“No, Tony. I do not want thrusters in my braces.” You moved as quickly as you could on the crutches. It wasn’t enough.
“Just hear me out-“
“No, Tony. Didn’t Pepper have you doing something?” Keeping your best straight face, you watched Tony quickly descend into panic. He rushed off without another word, the debate about possible prosthetics forgotten.
Not that you needed prosthetics. The injuries from the blast had severed some nerves. You tried not to remember waking up from your two-week coma not being able to feel your legs. No pins and needles, no ice, not even phantom limb. Nothing. One Steve had calmed you down, Clint was able to talk you into trying the pod that saved his life during Sokovia. In theory, it should have instantaneous to walk again. Instead, it led to months of therapy while the team continued to work. Between missions, Steve was always by your side giving you a hand when you needed it and hanging back when you wanted to walk on your own.
“Who won the battle?” Steve walked in and dropped some files in a nearby table.
“I did by distraction. Steve, honey, the next time I’m spouting nonsense about wanting to chop my legs off instead of having to go through therapy, please make sure Tony’s not in the room. He can take things too literally when he’s itching to build something.”
Steve chuckled. “I think the ‘real’ ideas came later. At the beginning, Tony was just being…”
“Tony,” you said together.
You worried your bottom lip. “Are you busy?”
“No. What do you need?”
The deep breath did nothing to calm your nerves. “I want to try.”
He sighed. “Are you sure? You’ve made great progress, and there’s no need to rush anything.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as you nodded. “Okay. Goal to beat?”
“Ten steps.”
Steve nodded and took his position a few feet away. You steadied yourself, then put your crutches to one side. The first step was always the hardest. He was always close enough to catch you if you stumbled but stayed just out of reach. You tried not to think about how much you hated having to learn how to walk again. You couldn’t count either. Steve said that was his job. You didn’t look behind or to either side to see how far you moved. Only at Steve.
“Come on, Y/N,” he mumbled under his breath, “keep coming, baby. You’re doing so good.” He bumped into a table and had to redirect your course around it. It was the first curve in the therapy, so you had to move slower. “Good, good. You’ve got it.”
Your knees wobbled, and Steve rushed forward to catch you.
“How many?”
“Fifteen,” Steve beamed. “And a curve. That’s good, Y/N. Really good.” He picked you up and sat you in the Segway-chair Tony got you for when you tired of the crutches.
“Can we get ice cream now?” It was easy to sway him. A twinge of whine in your voice and a slight pout. Not much at all.
Steve huffed with a smile. “And you accuse me of puppy-dog eyes. Let’s go.”
The glare from your bedside lamp cast long shadows across your bedspread as Steve tucked you in. You fiddled with the top hem.
“If you keep biting your bottom lip like that, you’re going to lose it one day.” Steve sat on the bed next to your hip and took your hands. “What’s on your mind?”
“Can you stay? Tonight?” You gave his hand a squeeze. “I miss… you.” Puppy dog eyes were not necessary, but you tried anyway. It sent a thrill through you to see his eyes darken and glisten.
He placed your hands over each other on your stomach, then placed his hands on top. “You’re still healing.”
“Please, Steve,” you whined. You leaned up to kiss him, but he pushed back on your shoulder until you were reclined on the pillow. “I took fifteen steps today. By myself! Well, with you guiding me.” You bit your bottom lip and dipped your head. He tipped your gaze back up to him and stroked his thumb across your bottom lip.
“Are you sure?”
“Mhmm.”
“But are you really?” Steve rubbed up and down your arms before taking your hands and placing them on either side of your head. “Because we really need to talk about-“
“I was supposed to have back-up before doing anything dangerous. But, if I recall, I did call for back-up and nobody came. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just let the-“
“Device go off and destroy the world. I know. There wasn’t time.” Steve sighed. “You did what you had to. It’s just… I… I was so scared I was going to lose you.” He released your hands to cup your face.
You placed your hands over his. “You were never going to lose me.” You turned your head to kiss his palm. “Now this discussion is all well and good, but I believe you still owe me a reward for topping my best score.” A giggle escaped you, accompanied by a sly smirk. “So, what did I win?”
Steve chuckled. “The world. If you can handle it.” Any reply you could have made faded into whimpering. His fingers worked through the fabric of your tank top to bring your nipples to attention. You arched further into his touch, but he pulled back the sheet and pressed down on your stomach to keep you level. If you weren’t supposed to move, that was going to be difficult as his touch grazed across your stomach. Your top was soon gone and his focus moved to teasing the top of your sleeping shorts. Instead of pulling them down, he trailed his fingers across your thighs making your skin break out in goosebumps. You waited with baited breath as his ministrations inched closer and closer to the heat building between your thighs. You swallowed a triumphant moan as he finally reached under and grazed your slick folds.
With a matching groan, you hummed his name and smiled while Steve nuzzled his nose against yours.
“Nothing underneath, Y/N? How long were you planning this?”
“Since I woke up.”
He had to press down on your stomach again as he eased in one teasing digit. With the second, once it was equally coated, he spread your arousal up to your clit. You closed your eyes, focusing on not moving. You even kept them closed as he pulled down your shorts and spread your thighs further apart. Lost in the sensations, you missed all the signals that Steve was positioning himself between them. The first kiss on your pelvis made you jolt. The second kiss was on your inner thigh, followed up by the light scrape of his teeth. The third kiss hovered over your sex while you held your breath, stealing it completely away with contact. His fingers began to curl in and out of you. He sucked at your clit, alternating the rhythm opposite of his fingers.
You were teetering on the edge. Skin aflame. Breathing shallow. Eyes half-lidded. You forced your eyes open in time to see Steve’s wicked grin right before he sucked hard on your clit while curling his fingers into the perfect spot. He watched while you fell apart calling his name. You heard clothes hitting the floor. He hummed against your skin as he crawled up your body. You turned your head so he had more access to your neck. He licked the shell of your ear, then sucked his fingers clean. You shivered.
With a growl he rolled onto his back, taking you with him.
“That was your reward. Now, about the mission.”
“Steve, baby, I’ve said all… ooh.” You fell forward to brace yourself on his chest. His hips rolled up to yours while his warm hands blazed against your hips. “That wasn’t fair,” you said. You gasped as he pulled you forward along his length. You wanted to do it again, Steve made sure you couldn’t.
“We’re just getting started, doll.”
He lifted you up and teased the head of his cock through your folds. Despite your death grip on his wrist, he maintained his own plan and kept the pace of his choosing. He moaned as you scraped your nails down his chest but stayed in control. When you were fully seated, he held you down and panted as your walls adjusted.
Whimpering, you begged. “Please-“
You cried out as he thrust. Your world dissolved into the hard strokes, the wanton noises coming from both of you, and the strong desire to move as quickly as possible. Yet still, Steve maintained the pace. Neither speeding up nor slowing down.
“You feel so good, doll,” he murmured. The praise made your skin flush. “I’ve missed seeing you like this. Blissed out of your mind. All mine.” He grounded you down on his pelvis again, making you blubber weakly. “You’ve been doing so good. But I’m afraid you won’t be able to walk much tomorrow.”
He began again. Thrusting as fast and relentless as you could handle. When he started to spin lazy circles into your clit as well, your body went rigid down to your toes. You couldn’t relax as Steve kept moving.
“Keep coming. You’re doing so good. One more.” Steve’s thrusts were becoming erratic. The frenzy of him sent you quickly into another spiral that sent your eyes rolling back. He caught you as you fell forward and pulled out to shoot his load between you.
Any other night you would have loved to clean him up, but tonight you settled for the lazy kiss he gave you. Hazily you felt him wipe of your stomach and tuck you back in. A minute later he shimmied under the covers next to you.
“No more putting yourself into danger?”
“I dunno,” you rolled to face away from him. “I can’t say I’m convinced not to if my punishment is that enjoyable.”
Before you could reach for the light, Steve wrapped his arm around your waist and tugged you back against his torso. “Then I guess I’ll have to try again and really drill it into you.”
Dean and Y/N let loose the lost history that Y/N had tried so hard to conceal. The other two members of the Shield gain momentum as Money in the Bank draws near while Dean wrestles himself towards more problems.
Pairing: None
Warnings/Promises: Sassy Owens and Zayne, wrestling violence
Word Count: 2200
Note: The story I’ve built is based on one of Dean’s early promos: here. It’s a bit longer, but there’s a lot of information to get through. I’ve been planning this particular chapter for months, so please let me know what you think. This exchange was what started the whole thing, so reblogging and comments will be greatly appreciated. As always, tag lists and requests are open. I hope you guys like it!
Sitting in the ring, waiting for you and Dean, was Kevin Owens and Sami Zayne. Dean was bouncing next to you calmly. You felt like your insides were twisting their way past your spine.
“Hey,” Dean got your attention, “we’ve got this.”
You didn’t have time to reply before his music hit. He went out first, did his thing, then looked to his left. When you weren’t there he came back to the curtain and motioned for you to follow him. He booped your nose. It made you smile like it always had. The walk down the ramp was faster than you were expecting. He sat on the rope so you could get in without having your skirt lift up too much.
You could have worn pants. You should have worn pants. And not heels. No jewelry was a good idea. Couldn’t blind anyone in the audience that way. Maybe you should have done something…
“Ambroses,” Kevin said, breaking your rush of thoughts. “Welcome to the Kevin Owens and Sami Zayne show.” Kevin smiled at you, but all you could see was the arrogance practically glowing underneath the surface.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Sami hummed. “And how is the happily reunited family today?”
Outnumbered. Not that Dean couldn’t take them, you just wouldn’t be able to help much.
“Fine, thank you.” Your voice wasn’t very strong, and Kevin noticed.
“That can’t be the same Y/N that’s stood toe-to-toe with Baron Corbin.” His smirk dared you to shoot back.
“I’m trying to reserve my sass. Besides, it wouldn’t be good to cause an incident this early in the show. Don’t want to be rude.” You smirked back. Kevin nodded and shared a proud look with Sami.
“We appreciate that,” Sami twittered. He made a big show of taking out his glasses and preparing his notepad. “Now, the world wants to know, what happened? You two were separated or something?” Sami ruffled through the pages, which you noted were empty, and looked back at you expectantly.
Dean watched you swallow hard and nodded. “Guess I better start. Y/N was just five when it happened. She is my cousin through my dad’s brother. They were living with us in Cincinnati, though it was rough. They were barely home, so we were left to get into all sorts of trouble.” Dean snickered. He leaned towards you. “Pigeons and Doritos.”
You busted out laughing. “It’s amazing you didn’t go into football with how many times you had to carry me out of trouble.”
Sami waved to get your attention. “Are we going to get that story?” He huffed when you shook your head.
“We had it figured out,” Dean continued. “She was in school; the neighbor took her with her kid. I was dropping out of high school to start wrestling. Or to try anyways.” He absently tapped his collarbone. “By then Dad was in jail, my uncle and his wife had bounced out, and my mom was no longer with us. Nobody seemed to care about us until I was dropping out. I was old enough to claim guardianship, but child services didn’t like that.”
“Y/N, you’re still being really quiet,” Kevin interrupted.
You breathed yourself back into the moment. “This is new information to me. Life was life. Dean made sure there was food on the table and helped me with whatever kindergarten homework I had.” You ignored Kevin’s snark of ‘how cute.’ “The adults weren’t around for me to miss them. Then one day I came home from school and… and left forever. I didn’t want to go, but I was five. They weren’t going to listen to me.” You turned to look at Dean. “The last thing I saw was Dean standing between two cops and trying to fight past them.” You swallowed again, this time to get rid of a lump.
“Welp, that sounds traumatizing.” Sami made a note and nodded pseudo-sagely. “Then what? How did you end up here?”
The words didn’t want to come. But they did when Dean smiled at you. Encouraging you. “I was adopted quickly. I’m cute after all. Moved to North Carolina. Then Georgia. Then went back up to Cincinnati for college.”
“You went to college?” Dean asked with a grin.
It was getting easier. “Yeah. Majored in classics, minored in sports journalism. Went looking through Dean’s old haunts and found a few jobs. Caught the eye of some influential people and found myself here.” You blushed as the crowd applauded and cheered.
Kevin made them pipe down. “That’s all well and good, but you must have been a terrible journalist if you couldn’t find your cousin.”
“How do you know I didn’t?”
“Come again,” Kevin sputtered. Dean was surprised too.
“Come on, it’s an easy Google search. Earlier attempts were harder because I was only looking local to Cincinnati. But then I found you in the WWE. And you had a new family too, in Seth and Roman.” You bit your lip and shrugged. “I was in high school. What was I supposed to do? If I had tried to talk to anyone, nobody was going to believe me.”
“Yep. Them’s the breaks kid.” Sami made another note. “It’s tragic. And inspiring. Separated during a terrible childhood. Reunited after finding success in your own ways.”
Kevin stood. Aggressive. Dean did the same while you and Sami watched on. “Why didn’t you look for her, Dean? The way you tell it, you cared so much. What changed?”
“Might I suggest you watch your mouth, Owens?” Dean was nearly nose-to-nose with Owens, though one foot was slightly behind the other. His free hand clenched and unclenched by his side.
But he kept going. “We know you’re unhinged, but how far back does that go? Did one too many concussions in the ring give you amnesia?” Kevin stumbled into the table with the following punch. He came back up ready to defend himself, but Dean hadn’t moved.
“They sealed her records. Said I was dangerous. And I couldn’t go into any of the court things because I was in jail for two weeks for beating up on those cops that kept me from running after the car.”
Gingerly, you stood and came up behind Dean, tapping his shoulder to make sure he knew you were there and wouldn’t spring. “Two weeks?” Dean looked back at you to nod, but Kevin moved to use that as a weakness. You didn’t think. It hurt, but Kevin’s head snapped back in a satisfying way as you punched him in the nose. You didn’t have much training, so you knew it couldn’t have hurt him too much.
Dean just beamed.
You gave him a flirty and taunting wave. He sputtered tossed his glasses and notepad to the canvas. Dean again sat on the ropes. You hopped to the floor and turned just in time to see Sami running his way. Dean followed your gaze and caught Sami, quickly dropping him in Dirty Deeds next to his trouble-making friend.
You couldn’t stop smiling all the way back up the ramp.
Seth Rollins bumped into you two backstage. He gave you a quick congratulations then continued to the ring. By the time he made it there, the ring was clear of the Kevin and Sami show and ready for his open challenge. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have too. The chants of “Monday Night Rollins” were enough.
The chants shifted into pure cheering as Bobby Lashley’s music came through the speakers. He grinned at Seth all the way down the ramp. He paused outside of the ring while the ref entered from the other side and took the Intercontinental belt. Seth motioned for the bell to ring as Lashley slid under the ropes.
Rollins was showing off, which spurred Lashley to do the same. It was a match that showcased the mutual respect between the opponents. Even so, Seth was finding it hard to keep up with Lashley. He found himself in trouble when Lashley was able to hold him high in the air with the hold.
But then Sami emerged from his hiding spot next to the bell and jumped up onto the apron. Lashley let Seth drop, ignoring him as the champion bounced off the canvas and fell to the outside.
“What makes you think you deserve that title?” Sami shouted. “You just got back and you haven’ done anything worthy.”
Lashley fired back, “and you have? You have done nothing but complain since you moved to Raw. And you missed your chance. I’m here. Rollins is done, and I’m-“ He couldn’t finish as Seth came up from behind him and rolled him up for the pin. Lashley’s anguished look was only met with Seth’s shrug and Sami’s sneering smile.
The ref gave Seth back the belt. Sami made a big deal of pointing at it.
“Next week, Seth. I’m coming for that.”
“You’re welcome to try, man. But this week, you’ve got more pressing matters.” Seth nodded for Sami to look behind him, where Lashley was waiting.
Sami scrambled through the ropes to scurry across the ring to tumble out the other side. Lashley followed him in but stopped by Seth to watch Sami run up the ramp. He gave Seth a strong handshake, then left the Kingslayer to collect his adoration from the crowd.
Elias glared at the crowd from under his spotlight. He cajoled and threatened them towards silence, but it remained far out of his grasp. Irritated, he began to play anyways. But instead of his acoustic chords, harmonica came through the speakers.
The lights filled up more of the ring to reveal Dean sitting on the apron at the bottom of the ring. He was leaned against the corner post lost to the world outside of the ear-piercing ditty he was trying to play on a harmonica. A microphone was balanced between his knees. Dean stopped as the crowd laughed, turning to look around in surprise.
“Oh hey, Elias. I’ve been working in some Pearl Jam. Have you looked up their stuff yet?”
The guitarist bypassed gracing Dean with an answer with fuming instead. He shuffled to one side as Dean came to join him in the ring.
“Do you mind?” Elias growled. “I’m trying to give these rotten people a concert.”
“Um, I think the concert is rotten, not the people. But yeah, I care. I’ve got a match with Baron, so…” Dean wiggled his fingers towards Elias. “If you could leave, that would be great. Though I wouldn’t mind some ring-side music if you wanted to stay for the match.”
Elias was about to retort when Baron’s music cut in. He left in a huff, staying clear of the Lone Wolf so the match could get started. It was just like old times. Same tricks from Baron, same evasions from Dean. But faster. Wittier. And with a bright Ambrose smile that sent Baron’s temper through the roof. It eventually cost him the match. Dean saw the Deep Six coming and reversed it into his second Dirty Deeds of the night.
Corey grumbled from commentary. “Congratulations to Dean. He won his first fight back from injury. But if he’s not careful, he’s going to end up with more problems than he can handle.”
“Well, I’m glad to see Dean Ambrose. WWE has missed him,” Coachman said.
“I didn’t say I didn’t miss him.” Corey led the bickering as the Houston crowd fully welcomed Dean back into the wrestling world.
In the main event, there was another respect match. Roman and Finn kept the other on their toes, practicing in front of the whole WWE universe what could happen at Money in the Bank. They were almost done when Braun’s roar filled the stadium. He made quick work of Roman and Finn. The crowd was enthusiastic about the catching of hands that he threw around. They were uncaring of the disqualified match, and of the battered athletes in the ring.
It was a lucky break, but a break none the less when Roman was able to spear Braun. Finn jumped off a corner post with a Coup de Grace. Together they were able to hold him off for a while. Then Finn made the mistake of turning on Roman. He made a show of standing with one boot on Roman’s chest and looking up at the briefcases hanging overhead.
He should have been looking behind.
Braun caught Finn by the back of the neck and tossed him across the ring. He bounced into the turnbuckles and collapsed off his feet. While Braun stalked Finn, Roman made it to his feet to stalk Braun. He stunned the monster among men on the turnbuckles above Finn before pulling him back and hoisting him up for a Samoan drop. Ignoring the boos, he rolled out of the ring.
Roman walked backward up the ramp, shouting at the two bodies in the ring and pointing at the briefcases. “That contract is mine. And mine alone. I’ll finish what you made me start tonight. The only thing you’re going to see at Money in the Bank is me standing on top of that ladder. Me.”
When a cursed piano needs playing, the Winchesters find out more about the reader than she wanted them to know.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: secrets revealed, half-mention of loss of family, Supernatural-normal violence, SMUT, some spanking, FLUFF, implied further smut
Word Count: 2040
Note: Saw a cute prompt and came up with this hot mess. One of my more sensual smut writings. Reblogs and comments are fantastic ways to let me know you liked it. Tag lists and requests are open. Please enjoy!
“It’s just a hunt, Sam. I don’t need to learn to play the piano.” You stormed into the library. “Besides, where are we going to find a piano?” You turned to glare at Sam, closely followed by Dean. “Is there one hiding in the bunker?”
Dean pursed his lips. “Um, actually-“
“You can’t be serious.”
He shrugged and nodded his head for you to follow him. He led you to a back room that you could have sworn was filled with more shelves and boxes and dust.
“Sam was looking for some files, like we do, and while I was going through this room,” he opened the door and let you walk in first. “I found… yeah. Cleaned her up.”
It was a baby grand. Dark wood with a healthy shine. Gracefully carved legs. The golden inlays on the backboard caught the light. Under the fall were ivory keys slightly yellowed with age. You ran your fingers over them, smiling at the clear notes they sang with.
“She’s beautiful.” You sat down and looked over the music on the stand. Fur Elise. “Dean, I don’t know.”
He sat down next to you. “You won’t have to play much.” He bit down on his bottom lip and swallowed. “I… I could teach you. Just enough for the hunt.” He waited for your response, but it was caught in your throat. “If you wanted too. I mean, there’s always YouTube, or there’s an app for everything.” He waited with baited breath as you tried to keep your breathing even. Dean sighed and moved to leave.
“No, Dean, wait.” You licked your lips and tried to find the words. “I would… um… appreciate it if you could teach me a little.”
“Sure. Great.”
“Great.”
Sam stood watch by one door. Dean stood at the other. You were by the bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks, drinking away your nerves. The piano sitting a few feet away was cursed. But, in a good way? If the person played what the piano apparated onto the rack, then any children of Eve (ie. monsters) would lose their ability to hide their forms from hunters, or anybody. This had led to a string of murders of pianists, in various ways meaning various monsters. Usually, the artists had been killed before the show before music could be played, but the last had been killed during an evening party. Her sister had helped get you as the replacement.
And now you had to play and hope that the guys could spot the monsters before they got to you.
Your employer for the evening gave you the signal. You walked up the few steps and sat on the bench. Under your breath, you cursed. The music on the stand changed from Fur Elise, what the last victim had been prompted to play, to Sonata Pathétique. Dean had skipped lessons on reading notes and had gone straight for memorizing the keys to play. You didn’t know this music. You shared a look with him, letting him know the situation.
All eyes were on you. They felt like icicles colliding with your skin from all directions. So, you took a breath.
The Winchesters almost forgot to watch the room as you played. Your hands glided across the keys, filling the room with the mournful tones dancing across the pages. It had been a while since you had to read sheet music, maybe it was like riding a bike, maybe it was the piano. The pages turned themselves, keeping up perfectly with your hesitant-to-practiced tempo.
Dean was so enraptured that he almost missed the vampire standing right next to him. Sam saw the teeth lower out of the man’s gums before either the man or Dean had noticed. When the shifter behind the bar began to shed his skin, the room suddenly emptied with screaming and plenty of pushing and stumbling. You kept playing, keeping the monsters visible. A few of them seemed surprised to see each other. The longer there was music, the less proportionate the room became between hunters and hunted. Thankfully during the bunker’s piano room cleaning, Dean had found a bomb-like item. The pages faded away and you dove behind the piano while the brothers hid behind the bar. When the dust settled, that was all that remained of the creatures.
“It was a shame we had to leave the piano,” you mused, dropping your heels on the library desk. Dean had called some other hunters with a large cursed object storage. It was probably never going to see the light of day again, much less be played. “It was such a beautiful instrument.” Sam went on a mental tangent, wondering if the piano in the bunker and that one were sisters. He left to do research. You cracked your knuckles and avoided looking at Dean.
“How long?”
“Hmm?”
“How long have you known how to play?” Dean’s voice wasn’t hard. Or teasing. More… confused.
You braced yourself on the table. “My mother taught me. I was about to have my senior concert when… I haven’t even looked at a piano since then. Until the other day.” You flinched, surprised when Dean laid his hand over yours. His fingers lightly pressed on your fingernails like he had to ‘teach you.’ “I didn’t mean to hide. I didn’t think I could do it.”
Dean stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “But you did.”
It was getting harder to breathe. To think. “It must have been the piano. It knew, Dean. It knew my last recital piece.” He tensed behind you as what you said registered. “We got the monsters, though. That’s what matters.”
“We did.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He kissed your temple and went to step back. You stopped him by entwining your fingers in his. “Sam’s going to be back in a minute.”
You chuckled. “I doubt it. Research?” You turned to face him. “That could take all night.”
He nodded in agreement. “True. But there’s something I wanted to do first.” He took your hand and took you back to the piano. Before you could sit down, he fumbled around in the bench and found some music. “Close your eyes.” You did and let him guide you to sit down. His shoulder bumped into yours as he joined you. The first few notes he played confused you. By the chorus, you recognized Hey, Jude. Dean started singing on the second stanza.
“Hey Jude, don’t be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better. And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders. For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder.” You opened your eyes for the nahnah’s and saw him looking at you with a small smile. “Hey Jude, don’t let me down. You have found her, now go and get her. Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better.”
You joined in for the nah’s and the yeah’s and the ‘hey Jude’s’ that filled up the rest of the song. Dean really got into it and sang the high shouting yeah’s like he was in the recording studio with the Beatles. You smiled and laughed, encouraging him to get wilder with it. By the time he finished, his lips were close to yours and your heart was thundering so heard you could barely feel it.
Dean lightly tapped the tip of his nose against yours. His shallow breathing puffed over your lips. You closed the last distance between you before either of you could change your mind. Everything you didn’t say over the years went into that kiss. It felt natural, giving it all to Dean. To have him listen in such a way where words weren’t needed, and to tell you in the silence that if you ever found the words that he would be there too.
Fingers fumbled with buttons and layers until your fingernails could rake down his torso and leave tiny red welts behind and he could do the same all the way down your back. He reached up under your skirt and made you buck when his fingers brushed over the soaked fabric covering you. You moaned into his mouth as he pushed it aside and began to stroke you, thrust into you, and open you up. Both of you were quickly covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He kissed across the curves of your face down to the hollow of your throat while he thumbed at your clit. You lost sight of his bright green eyes as your thighs tightened around his wrist, shivering and sending ripples through your body.
You closed the cover over the keys while Dean pushed down his slacks and briefs. His fingertips dug into your skin, controlling how fast you sank down onto him. It was a slightly awkward position, straddling him on the bench while he leaned back against the piano, but you were too focused on bringing back the earlier high to care.
He groaned as you tugged on the short hairs at the base of his neck. You whined, begging him to let you move but he adamantly held you down. He chuckled as you pouted against his lips. When you wouldn’t let him in, he smirked and gave you just enough of a thrust to make you gasp. He swallowed your cries as he continued to hold you right where he wanted. Finally, he had his feet planted firmly enough on the floor. You gripped his shoulders tightly for stability while he gave you what you wanted.
The edges of the bench dug into your shins, but you didn’t care. The room was stuffy and if felt like every particle of dust was collecting on your skin, but you didn’t care. You could tumble onto the floor at any second, but you didn’t care.
Dean could take you on the floor if he wanted too, as long as he kept moving.
Soon you had control and was bouncing with reckless abandon. Your eyes were heavy, and you fought to keep them open, so you could watch Dean. His lips were parted, panting, and perfectly pink like the tint in his cheeks. Your skin was probably equally flushed. To you it felt like ice, so cold it burned and sparked where ever Dean touched you. You jolted again. His touch trailed down your stomach, bypassing your sex to cross over your thighs and work back to your ass. You yelped shortly after the loud crack. Dean sputtered as your walls clamped down on his cock.
“You like that, Y/N?” He gasped and pressed his forehead into the valley of your breasts as you squeezed again. “I’ll save that info for later.”
“Please…” you begged. You reached down towards your front, but Dean beat you to it. Stars spotted your vision. You were so close. So. Close. The ringing in your ears barely let you hear what he was saying.
“Let go, Y/N. Cum for me, darling.”
With a short scream, you grappled at any of Dean that you could reach. He quickly followed you, pulling out to shoot onto your stomach. Some landed on him, dribbling down his soft stomach as it flexed. He waited for you to catch your breath before helping you off his lap to sit beside him.
You wanted more, whether your body could take it or not.
“When do I get round two?” you hummed, bringing Dean’s hand up to eye level and intertwining your fingers.
“My room or yours, sweetheart?”
“Hmm. Shower. We’re both sweaty and dusty.” You tried once to stand but almost fell over. “Then I’ll pick.” You braced yourself on his shoulder while your legs wobbled underneath you.
He chuckled at the sight. “I’m just going to get you all sweaty again if that’s what you want.”
“Deal.” You grabbed your clothes off the floor and stopped at the door. “Are you going to help me conserve water?”
Y/N’s past meets her face-to-face. The reunion is not what she expected.
Pairing: None
Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence
Word Count: 1215
Note: Another week closer to Money in the Bank! I hope you guys are ready for crazy, because in this chapter heavy connections are made that rule the series. Please let me know how you are enjoying it, and what you think is going to happen next. Tag lists and requests open as always. Happy reading!
Seth Rollins opened the show. He swaggered his way down to the ring and basked in the glow of the adoring audience.
“Thank you, guys! With all the excitement last week, I’m hoping to get tonight started and…” he broke off with a smile as a ‘Monday Night Rollins’ chant started. It died down as he raised the mic back up. “If I want to hold up to that promise, there’s one thing I have to do. I’m a fighting champion after all. I’m issuing an open challenge for the Intercontinental Championship. For right here. And right now.” He dropped the mic and waited for whoever’s music while the ref entered the ring.
Face the Facts started to play. Seth grinned widely as Curt Hawkins entered the arena and made his way down the ramp. Hawkins motioned for the bell the second he entered the ring and attacked Seth before he could drop the title. That was all of the upper-hand Hawkins had for the rest of the match.
It ended quickly, with Hawkins out cold after a Blackout.
“We need to check some records,” Coachman said. “That might be Rollin’s fasted title defense, if not the fasted defense of any WWE title.”
“I doubt that,” Corey said, interrupting Coachman before he could continue. Corey jumpstarted the rest of the night. “And we should go to Y/N to get a word with the Lunatic Fringe. Unless it’s actually Renee. Or Charley.” He harrumphed when you showed up on the screen. “Good to see the cue sheet is right this week.”
You put on your game face and hoped for the best as your first red brand interviewee walked out of the hallway. A glint of recognition flickered across his face. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.
“Hey, Dean.” You took a shallow breath. “Long time no see.”
Dean’s eyes widened. He inched closer to you, his hand inches away from checking to see if you were real. You jumped as he called back down the hallway. “Renee! Roman! Seth!” He stared at you, fighting even blinking in case you disappeared before his eyes. You gasped and went rigid as he pulled you in for a hug. With a sigh, you relaxed and hugged back. By the time they arrived, you were caught in an Ambrose bear hug you never wanted to escape from. It was the most ‘home’ you had felt in almost twenty years.
“Oh my gosh,” Renee breathed. “You’re the cousin.”
You pulled away to see Roman and Seth’s confused faces. Your cheeks were wet and, looking up, so were Dean’s.
“Yes. I’m the cousin.”
Dean sputtered, “where have you been? They took you away, and then your records were sealed, and I got good at wrestling, and things took off but I could never find you.” He stopped to take a breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
You wiped away a tear and avoided eye contact. “I never blamed you. And you came into town a few times on tour.” Dean moved to ask more questions, but you waved him off. “We don’t have time for this right now. Seth’s got to catch his breath, Roman’s got a match, and you’ve got to get to commentary.” You laughed. “I’m supposed to be asking you about Baron and No Way Jose.” When Dean didn’t move you gave his chest a slight push. “You should get going.”
He pulled your head towards him for a forehead kiss that you melted in to. Renee left with him, their hands tightly entwined, leaving you with Roman and Seth. You gave them a hesitant wave. They shared a look that would send Rollreigns fans into a gif tizzy.
Roman nodded to you. “Welcome to the family, Y/N.”
In the ring, No Way Jose made his entrance with his Congo line. At the tail end of it, Dean was having the time of his life. He broke off and took the extra chair and headset next to Coachman. He was barely situated before Corey was asking questions.
“Since when do you have cousins, Ambrose?”
“Since I was about ten years old. I’ve talked about her before, but it was a long time ago and nobody was really listening. Past that, I haven’t seen her in almost twenty years and we’re gonna have a lot of catching up to do after this. Whatever this is.”
Michael Cole did his best to keep the focus on the upcoming match. “We know you know Baron Corbin, but his opponent, No Way Jose, is new to the red brand.”
“I like ‘im,” Dean said, leaning back in his chair, “he knows how to party.”
Jose was still dancing in the middle of the ring when Baron’s music started. The Lone Wolf glared at Dean on his way down the ramp.
“I haven’t missed him,” Dean muttered.
“I don’t think he’s missed you either,” Cole said as the bell rang.
Dean made several comments through the match, for and against each of the wrestlers.
Corey was disgusted. “Dean, whose side are you on? You’re speaking good about No Way Jose now while Baron’s got him caught in a corner. But two minutes ago when Baron was on the ropes, you were talking him up.”
“I just like encouraging the little guy, no matter who that is at any given moment.”
Cole was confused. “But Dean, they can’t hear you from back here.”
Dean snorted. “That’s what you think.” The next thing the team knew, he was standing on the announce table and waving at the ring. He laughed loudly as Baron went to yell back at him and was immediately rolled up for the pin.
No Way Jose made a quick exit and rushed to the stage where Dean joined him. They mockingly danced their way out of the arena while Baron fumed.
The Main Event for the night was a tag-team match made up of four of the five Money in the Bank wrestlers from Raw. Finn Balor and Roman were paired up against Braun and Bobby Roode. Dean brought you with him to watch on the backstage screen with Seth. They both made little comments naming moves for you or reacting to your reactions, which were mostly flinching.
Roman had Braun stumbling around in the perfect position for a spear. He roared and tackled Braun to the canvas. Finn was waiting on the top turnbuckle, and Roman rolled out of the ring to ensure Bobby did not interfere. Braun barely groaned under the Coup de Gras, but Finn was successful in pinning him. Roman joined him in the ring while Roode made a quick exit; he didn’t want to be there when the monster among men woke up.
The ref stood between the victors and raised their hands. Finn turned to shake Roman’s hand, but Roman wasn’t there.
Braun was.
Roman was tangled up in the ropes at the bottom of the ring where Braun had bumped him. Finn was lifted over Braun’s shoulder and dropped. In the background, the crowd started chanting ‘get these hands’, which made Braun smile wickedly over his victims. The same drop happened to Roman moments later.
Raw ended with Braun standing alone, roaring with the WWE universe.
Prompt: “Hey, I wondering if you were interested in doing a part 2 of the Elias fic I originally requested, ‘Learning the Ropes’? [Smut, plot, both?] Surprise me!”
Pairing: Elias Samson x TransMale!Reader
Warnings/Promises: suggestive wrestling positions, FLUFF, SMUT, Italics = Elias POV
Word Count: 1270
Note: Thanks for the request, hun! I hope you all have enjoyed this week of answered requests, and continue to send them in. I’m sorry they take a bit to do, but I’m looking for grad schools; wish me luck! Let me know if you guys have any ideas for fics, or would like to be added to any tag lists. Have fun reading!
In the three months since your first sparring lesson with Elias, you had really tightened up your move set. There had been a few more team-ups, and one or two scripted collisions backstage. The crowd’s cacophony every time your stepped out into the ring really made you feel like you the world was going in all the right ways.
The fist flying towards your face abruptly brought you back into the present. You rolled out of the way and backed up against the ropes.
“Hey, earth to Y/N?” Elias asked. His brow scrunched in worry, but you smiled brightly at him.
“Sorry. Just got lost in…” you looked off into space trying to find the words. “You. How far we’ve come. How far I’ve come. Everything feels… right. Like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be,” you sighed.
Elias nodded in agreement. “Do you need to take a break? It’s been a-“
“No. I’ve got this.”
You were working on a double finisher. It was your job to set the opponent up in the corner, then Elias would pick them up and halo powerbomb them. Between the two of you, there were a few options for the setup. The biggest problem was doing them to Elias when he knew you so well. You bit your lip in concentration as he stood in one corner waiting for your next attempt.
It was funny to watch him. Y/N was brilliant, and he had been getting much better since his arrival. Elias’s only regret was that Y/N didn’t get a chance to kick Miz’s face in before the shake-up. It didn’t show often, but Miz’s words from Y/N’s first match were still strong in his mind. It didn’t matter how many superstars he’d beaten up since then, nothing was ever enough.
When does healthy hunger cross over into unhealthy obsession?
Y/N’s eyes flickered with realization. Like watching an incandescent light bulb come to life. Elias squared his shoulders and prepared myself for the ‘attack.’ Y/N spun and feigned a roundhouse kick. Once Elias had reacted, he found himself lying on the canvas. He was hauled to his feet and guided to sit unsteadily on the top turnbuckle.
“Good. Good. I think that one is the most effective so far.” Gingerly, he slid back to his feet and braced himself against the ropes.
Y/N turned away, deep in thought. “But how early can we use it? Whoever we use this on is going to have be pretty out of it already.” Y/N growled. “It’s only going to be effective if we’ve been wrestling for twenty minutes at least.”
Never enough.
Elias let out a deep breath and pushed out of the corner. He made sure the room was empty, then slid up behind Y/N and wrapped his arms around his torso. “You know, if we train for about ten more minutes, the last of the others will have gone home.” He smirked as Y/N slightly turned his head to look at him.
“And if I say yes?”
Elias nodded.
Then tossed Y/N over his shoulder and dropped him to the canvas.
You rolled a little ways away, gasping in surprise. “You suplexed me.”
Elias grinned. “So? We’ve still got nine minutes of training to do.”
“You suplexed me!” You eased to your feet and paced the outside of the ring. Elias spun in the middle, never giving you access to his back. You ran at him, purposefully bypassing him so you could bounce off the ropes. With a sling blade, you had Elias on his back. He kicked out before you could count to three and flipped you to your back.
Oh, this could get dangerous.
Elias leaned down almost nose to nose. Y/N had confessed to being… intrigued by his eyes. All is fair in love and war, right?
Apparently, Y/N picked up on what he was trying to do and licked his lips. It was enough of a distraction for Elias to soon find himself on his back. This time Y/N counted much slower.
“One,” he breathed. “Two.”
Elias kicked out and moved to stand in a corner. Y/N huffed and was making to his feet when Elias rushed by with a clothesline. Y/N reversed it into a pin. He sat on Elias’s waist with his hands on his shoulders, grinning. This time Elias counted, matching Y/N’s smirk.
“One.” He rolled his hips, making Y/N shudder. “Two.” Another thrust. Another shudder.
Elias rolled out from under him.
“Seriously?” you gasped under your breath. As annoying as that was, the results were racing through your veins as you felt your skin flush under the training adrenaline. Your heart was pounding, and you wanted nothing more than for the locker rooms to be empty.
Elias looked off towards the doors and saw the last people leave. Before he could offer, you grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the ring. You had him shirtless and shoeless before you’d even made it to the locker room. He helped you out of your shirt while you unbuckled his belt. While he wriggled out of the new jeans he’d been stretching out, you fought to get out of your boots. He caught you in a kiss against the wall and worked his thumbs into the last pieces of your ring gear to get them out of the way.
He broke away with a curse and fumbled around for his wallet. You quickly grabbed the small bottle of lube from your bag. It was hard not to giggle as Elias triumphantly held up the metallic packet before working it onto his length. You pulled him closer by his hip to stand in front of you. When you reached to give his lengths a few pumps, and while Elias prepared his fingers for you, you let out a contented puff of breath.
“Y/N?” Elias’s worried voice broke through your haze. You looked up with him and hoped your eyes said everything your voice could not.
Familiar.
It felt familiar. Relaxed. Like puzzle pieces fitting together in a puzzle that had been done a hundred times before. Perfect.
Y/N leaned his head on Elias’s chest as he began to work him open. The little whimpers and sighs that come out made his cock twitch in Y/N’s hand. When they were both ready, Elias slowly eased in Y/N, watching his face as his head fell back into the wall.
His eyes were closed. Lips parted. Hands gripping his shoulders.
Adrenaline from training combusted with the awe of belonging to each other. Y/N met his thrusts. He found the rhythm that made them both see stars. He felt hot. And shivered with something more than cold. Their mix of groans and skin slapping against skin kept Elias chasing giving everything to Y/N. He watched his face contort in bliss.
Trusting. Radiant. Unbelievable. Everything.
Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.
Already you were at the precipice. Elias wasn’t far off either by the faltering of his thrusts. You dug your fingers into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.
“I’m right here, Elias. I’m right here.”
He smashed his lips into yours, swallowing your cries as your legs flexed and blood rushed in your ears. You swallowed his cries as well as he thrust one more time and stilled. His head fell to the wall behind you, putting your shoulder just in reach for a soft kiss. Your chests met as you both heaved. It was in these moments that you loved to learn the rythm of his heartbeats. Elias managed to speak first.
“Shower?”
“Shower.”
He eased out of you then led you to the showers for was destined to become round two.
Prompt: “I wanted like….another wrestlers manager costing him a title kinda like Zelina does for Andrade? and Angry sex with maybe some choking.” – @crossfit-princess-sethie-boo
Pairing: Samoa Joe x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, angry Joe, SMUT, choking, orgasm denial, orgasm bribing, implied further smut
Word Count: 1430
Note: I’ve never written Samoa Joe before, so please take pity. I hope this is what you wanted sweetie, and I hope you all like it. Comments and/or gif reactions are greatly appreciated. Tag lists and requests are open as always. Now please enjoy!
You had met in NXT. It was a dance: bumping into each other backstage, distracting each other’s promo’s, sitting silently across from one another in catering. Nobody seemed to notice. And Joe was patient. It was months of setting your skin ablaze with just looks before he cornered you in that dark hallway for the first time. The dance changed from flirting to secrecy. When you got left behind with his call-up, you thought it was over.
It wasn’t. Far from it.
The scheduling was difficult, but you made it work. You took turns showing up at each other’s shows, even if a few months apart. There was sex, yes, but you also helped each other. Joe was the one to suggest two months ago that you should try your hand at valeting.
Little did he know it would lead to his downfall.
He was in the middle of the ring, threatening anybody who thought they were ‘man enough’ to fight him for the opportunity to challenge Jeff Hardy for the US Championship. He froze as Sanity’s music began to play. The crowd went wild as Killian stepped out. You hovered close behind, effectively hiding from Joe. Once Killian had his attention, he moved to one side so you could step forward dressed in a business suit jacket and skirt. For a split second his face lit up, then he played it off as mock surprise. Joe tossed his mic away and called for a ref. The bell rang as soon as your ‘client’, one of three, entered the ring.
Both large men kept the other on his toes. Joe wasn’t used to being thrown around like Killian was capable of. Killian was not used to the quiet rage that Joe was capable of. It was beyond Roman or Aleister’s skills. For all of the mutual frustration, you could read admiration on their faces. But you could not stand back and enjoy the match as you wanted. You had a job to do.
Killian argued with the ref over the near five-count of strikes. Joe was recovering on the apron. You grabbed his ankle and attempted to sweep his legs out from under him.
Joe did not budge.
In the background, you heard Corey make some remark about your relationship in NXT, but all you could think about was the fire in Joe’s eyes. You were in trouble and a lot of it. Thankfully, Killian finished with the ref and pulled Joe back into the ring. But for the rest of the match, Joe kept an intense gaze on you. When he lost the match due to another one of your distractions, hot rage flashed in his eyes.
Killian saw the wrath burning in your direction. He stood in front of you the whole way up the ramp to backstage. When he offered to walk you to your dressing room, you declined and said you could handle Joe yourself. You didn’t actually feel that way, but it was the only way you could be alone to see him.
You don’t know how he did it, but Joe was waiting for you in your dressing room. He was leaned against the desk in the room with his arms crossed. His face was impassible, even for you, and he said nothing while you flustered through half-formed sentences that died once they hit the air. You shed your jacket. He nodded towards the door. You locked it. Though it was probably unwise, you kept your back towards him.
“Welcome to Smackdown, Y/N.” His voice made you shiver.
Turning, you flattened your back against the door. “Thank you.” You swallowed dry air. “How much trouble am I in?”
Joe let out a long, slow breath. “I have to say, this is not what I had in mind when I suggested being a manager.” He stood and took a few meandering strides towards you. “And definitely not with Sanity. What about Nikki Cross?”
“We have an understanding. And why are you so angry? It was your idea.” You gasped and smiled as Joe wrapped his hand around your throat.
“I meant me when they finally moved you up.”
“You?” You searched his face for the truth. “Since when do you need me?”
Joe loosened his grip. “I always need you.” He looked at you like it should have been obvious.
You wet your lips. “Then why didn’t you say that? Then we wouldn’t have been in this mess.” It became harder to breathe as Joe’s grin widened and his grip tightened.
“Speaking of… I believe I owe you something for your… help tonight.” He released your throat, chuckling at your gasp for air, and switching his grasp to your wrists. He stole your oxygen next by kissing you hard and ravenously. You moaned into his mouth every time he rolled his hips into yours. “That’s it, Y/N,” he whispered, “make it up to me.”
With one hand he controlled both of your wrists, with the other he reached up under your skirt. You bucked down into his touch, spreading the juices already leaking through your bottoms onto his fingers. He tugged them to one side. You grit your teeth and hissed as he used two fingers to pull your essence up to your clit. Joe tightened his grip on your wrists as you thrashed under his touch. He spread your slick to your clit, thumbing it harshly enough to make you cry out. Joe nosed your head to one side so he could nip at your neck while his fingers worked torturous magic bringing you to the brink. Your breathing shallowed and you closed your eyes, ready for release.
Joe withdrew with a chuckle that made you whine. “What, did you think I would let you come so quickly, baby girl? You should know better.”
“Please, Joe. I’m sorry. I can’t guarantee that it won’t happen again, but I’ll-“
“Oh no. I have a different deal in mind.” He pulled you away from the door. He helped you out of your clothes and had you lay on the desk. You did your best to keep your legs open, though each drag of his fingertips across your skin made you want to close them with a shiver. Joe trailed his fingers closer to your sex. His chest heaved with resisting taking you immediately. “If I could make another suggestion,” he bypassed your heat and splayed his large, warm hand over your lower stomach, “perhaps you should shift your loyalties.” His hand continued traveling up to your breasts. You gasped as he dug his fingernails into the valley between them. “Take your time. I’ve got all the time in the world to work an answer out of you, baby girl.”
Frantically you licked your lips. “There’re other people to convince than me.” You squeaked as he tweaked your nipple. “I’ll consider it?”
“Close enough. For now.” He moved his ring gear and other obtrusive fabric out of the way just enough to bring his ready length into your line of sight. It made your mouth water, but you knew that would have to come later.
Joe was seconds away from running out of patience.
With those last seconds, he eased into you with a series of deep breaths. He braced himself on the desk on either side of your hips while you adjusted to him. You gave him a small thrust.
Patience ran out.
You screamed as he pulled nearly all of the way out before thrusting fast and hard in again. Again. Again. Again. Your vision failed, and your eyes closed. Your mouth fell open to freely give Joe all of the sounds that spurred him on. And on. And on. The denied orgasm from before came rushing to the surface. Joe growled as your walls clamped tighter and tighter. You were both right there. You opened your eyes as Joe rubbed your thigh.
“You keep screaming like that baby girl, and I won’t be able to hold back… much longer.”
“Then don’t. Joe, I’m almost… please.”
Joe reached up and took control of your breathing. Darkness danced along the edges as you watched Joe thrust closer to coming. He let go of your throat. The rush of oxygen sent you careening over the precipice, pulling Joe down with you. He helped you ride out your high, then eased out.
“Technically,” he panted, “I didn’t get the answer out of you that I wanted.”
In your haze, you let your heart take over instead of your rational mind.
“Oh, no. Then I guess you’ll have to try and convince me again.”
Prompt: “Hello 🙂 Can you pls do a fluffy Jey Uso where reader is an actress (she’s Latina lol) they’ve been dating for years and the Usos are having another rap battle w/ the new day and one of them says something bad about you and he gets all defensive and when he comes home the next day you mention it and he gets all blushy and can it end with implied smut if you can pls”
Pairing: Jey Uso x Latina!Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: FLUFF, implied smut
Word Count: 1030
Note: I am not someone gifted with the ability to rap/rhyme, so please accept a battle of wits. I think this came out super cute, so if you guys could confirm that I would really appreciate any comments/reblogs you could send my way. Thanks to the anon for requesting Jey; I don’t think I would have ever written for him otherwise. I hope you guys like it!
You smiled listening to Jey’s laugh. Kofi had made some joke, sending both Usos into a fit of giggles. The New Day couldn’t keep a straight face either.
“Man,” Jimmy sang, “you keep passing the same jokes in new ways.”
“All day, every. New. Day!” Xavier picked up. “We can’t help it when its oo-so easy.” He grinned wildly as Kofi and Big E bumped at his shoulders.
“You can pun around all you like.” Jey had a lightbulb moment and snickered. “But like Wood’s trombone, you can only play the one unsatisfying tune, no matter how much you change the tempo.”
The other two members caught Xavier as he reeled back. You couldn’t help but giggle out loud at how offended he looked. His next words made Jey’s face fall and made your breath hitch in your throat.
“My girl sounds lovely no matter what I play. While your lovely lady is stuck with your un-awed ass. Speaking of Y/N, how is she faring? You keeping her… satisfied? Or do you believe her poor acting skills?”
Jimmy moved quickly to hold Jey back as his brother leapt for Xavier. He had dropped his mic, but you saw him say “don’t be talkin’ ‘bout my girl. Leave her out of this.”
Everyone dropped their mics while inching closer to one another. E spoke up. “Leave her out of this? You’re the one who brought the girls into this in the first place.” Surprisingly it was Jimmy and Kofi trying to keep everyone from losing their heads. But the once friendly banter had morphed into something more fueled by honor and ego than fun.
The following match did nothing to disperse the warm tingling between your legs. Jey was intense. It kept ringing in your head that in a way he was defending you. The way he would growl at Xavier or Big E made you rub your thighs together. You groaned seeing those big shoes of his whack either of them in the face. There was a similar reaction every time the camera would zoom in on his outstretched hand waiting to be tagged in. When the match finished, you turned off the TV and had a nice hot bath.
You sent Jey a picture of you half submerged in the suds with a message.
I can’t wait to thank you for defending my honor.
Jey’s reply was pretty much illegible with his flabbergasted fingers.
The buzz under your skin had not diminished in the next twenty hours or so. Should you dress up? Should you dress down, normal? Should you dress at all? You wanted to be wearing more than your pj’s.
Your question was answered when he arrived a lot sooner than you were expecting. Despite the surprise, you rushed to meet him at the door, barely giving him time to drop his bags before you were flying into his arms. Nor did he get a word of greeting out before your lips were on his. Needless to say, you had missed him.
“Damn,” he breathed when you finally broke away, “if I didn’t want to be with all the time, I’d be gone more often just so I’d get that.” He hummed in delight and gave you quick peck on the lips.
“What are you talking about? You could be gone for five minutes to get pizza and you’d get this welcome.”
Without missing a beat, Jey grinned and said, “then can I step out and back in again?”
You laughed and cupped his face. “No.” This time you nibbled on his bottom lip, making him rumble and hold you tighter. You stepped back, giggling when he leaned forward to follow you. “You know, I had to turn off the TV last night and be alone after your match.” You grabbed both of his hands and pulled him further into the apartment.
“Oh really?”
“Mhmm.” You pulled him to sit on the couch. “The way you stood up for me? Defended my honor? Made me all tingly inside.” Jey gasped as you straddled his waist. You tilted your head when he didn’t look up at you. “Jey?”
He rubbed his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. If I hadn’t brought Wood’s trombone-“
“Francesca?”
“The second, yes. If I hadn’t brought her into it Woods couldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry if he offended… you… or anything.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes flitted around the room.
You rested your arms on his shoulders. “Xavier has no such power over my feelings. That pobre alma solitaria is only words and ring tricks. You on the other hand,” you ran your fingers up along the back of Jey’s neck, “are an electrical storm on the senses.” You bit your lip, now fully holding his attention, and wiggled your hips. Jey bucked up to meet you and let out a stifled groan. His suppressed smile was practically glowing under his skin.
“Baby, you keep moving like that and…” he bit down on his bottom lip and gripped at your hips. Then his grip loosened and his shoulders slumped. He seemed deep in thought, so you kept silent and reassuringly stroked your thumbs over the curve of his neck. “Woods did speak out of turn. You are an amazing actress, there’s no denying that. But…” Jey sighed and started again, “Have you ever-“
“Faked it?” You smiled as he looked up sheepishly at you. “Honey, I have never had to act or pretend or fake anything with you. It’s one of the many reasons why I love you.” With a dip of your head, you nosed across his cheekbones. “Now how about you let me slip into something more comfortable-“
“Than your pajamas?” Jey teased.
You nipped at his lip. “I was thinking about something more along the lines of… nothing?”
Jey’s eyes lit up, then darkened promisingly. “Oh, really?” He flexed his shoulders under your touch. “Mind if I join you for that?”
There was nothing to reply except with a wink. You left him on the couch and swayed your hips on the way to your bedroom. Just outside the door, you turned and encouraged him to follow you.
He was off like a shot.
pobre alma solitaria = poor lonely soul (I know its not true, but it felt right in the fic)
Again, Y/N is filling in on Raw, which turns out to be a whirlwind of crazy. Due to her combined actions last week and this week, she receives some unfortunate news.
Pairing: None
Warnings/Promises: some wrestling violence
Word Count: ~1800
Note: Welp, didn’t call New Day/Bar outcome correctly, but now I can write it how I would and not have to worry about keeping up here. Though it would have been funny/amazing had I been right. Please let me know what you think will happen next, who is Y/N afraid of, and what you think of the fic as a whole. Any and all feedback makes me giddy and makes me write faster. Now please enjoy!
There were about two seconds of Roman Reign’s music before the crowd erupted into boos. Because of the orders of Stephanie McMahon, he was going to have his rightful chance at the Money in the Bank Match. Apparently, he had made a good case. Since he and Jinder had denied each other their opportunity, then it was only fair that they should both get the match they deserved. Tonight’s opening match was going to be Reigns versus Jinder for the last space in the contract match.
Roman posed on the ropes, his fists raised in the air. He was mid-roar when Sunil Singh began Jinder’s entrance. The Big Dog stepped off the ropes and waited for his opponent to make it to the ring. He couldn’t help but grin as Jinder winced and held his bandaged waist. If last week’s spear was even a smidgen of what Roman had planned, the modern-day Maharaja was in for a world of hurt.
They fought for a while. Both of them began to get increasingly frustrated when the other kept kicking out. Roman staggered into the ropes, and Jinder motioned to Sunil. The crowd tried to warn Roman, but Sunil slid into the ring behind him while Jinder distracted the ref with his injury. Sunil kicked into the backs of Roman’s knees until he lost his balance. Then the smaller man was gone, even as Roman tried to swing at him. Instead, he turned just in time to catch Jinder and have his back bounce off the turnbuckles.
Jinder showboated around, unaware that the Big Dog had made it back to his feet. He bounced off the mat after a clothesline. Roman backed into a corner and readied a spear. But Sunil was there again, who dangled his whole body weight from Roman’s neck from the other side of the ropes.
Roman was frantically clawing at his throat when a cameraman hopped up on the apron for a better angle and accidentally bumped the Singh brother. You watched the same cameraman walk around to the other side of the ring while the fight continued. Again he stepped up onto the apron and was too close when Jinder came flying into the turnbuckles. Jinder’s head bounced off of the machinery instead of the padding; he fell like a log. The cameraman stepped into the ring to get close-ups of Roman as he celebrating winning the final Money in the Bank spot.
But they never used the cameraman’s footage.
Roman turned to him and held out his hand for a firm shake. The man sat down his gear and took off his hat and glasses. Your blood ran cold as the audience went wild.
It was Dean Ambrose.
The Shield brothers left for backstage, ignoring injured Jinder and Sunil. Charley was still out, or you wouldn’t have been in this mess. You turned to Renee, who was watching the match with you.
“Hey, sweetie? I’m feeling a little… ill. Can we trade interviews?”
“Sure, Y/N.” She watched you rush away, calling thanks back to her.
As Corey directed the tv audience backstage, “and now to Y/N,” Dean and Roman emerged from Gorilla and Seth nearly slipped running around the corner to meet them. Corey was confused. “Or, to Renee Young I guess.”
Renee waited for a moment while the Shield reunited. “Congratulations on your placing in the Money in the Bank match, Roman. And welcome back Dean. Aren’t you a little early in your return?”
Dean smirked. “Yeah. Just a little. I told the docs I would take it slow for a bit…” Dean tapped at his collarbone. “Then I found that extra camera and came out to help my brother.”
“Yeah, and didn’t tell either of us he was coming, you jerk.” Seth’s smile was bright as he lightly ruffled Dean’s hair. “Glad to have you back.”
“Hey, sweetheart?” Dean said. “We’ve got some catching up to do. But I can tell ya that the Shield is back and better than ever.” He looked up at Roman expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, Dean poked him in the ribs.
“Ow.” Roman gave him a peeved look then rolled his eyes. “And you can bo-lieve that.” He wrapped his arms around the shoulders of his teammates and led the way, leaving Renee alone in the corridor.
Your new interview was scheduled with whoever won the Baron Corbin vs. No Way Jose match. Baron won with a Deep Six, but after several near pins from the fiesta friend. He was angry that the match had lasted so long, and his win was cut short by Kevin and Sami attacking him on the stage. He was able to get away and was headed in your direction.
Again, Corey directed the tv audience to your location. “Renee Young can check to see if… or Y/N. Whoever. What is going on?”
Baron stumbled out of Gorilla and began to stomp down the hall. You were on edge. The sudden appearance of Dean would have been enough to rattle you, but now there was Baron to deal with.
“Baron…” you started.
“What!” he shouted at you. Seriously?
“Could you tell us…” you tried again.
“I don’t have time to talk to anyone or a shorty like you about anything. Now get out of my face.”
Oh hell no.
“Mr. Corbin!” You grabbed a nearby box and stood on it to come eye to eye with him. “My lack of height has nothing on your lack of manners. You may think you are some Big Bad Wolf, and you can huff and puff all you like, but I am not letting you move from that spot until you answer my question. Now, are you going to or not?”
He took a step back and thought for a minute. “Did you just…did you even?”
“I would have if you’d given me time for it. Now can I do my job?”
Baron stuttered for a bit, then flailed his arms for you to continue.
“Thank you.” You took a breath to settle yourself and smoothed out your skirt. “Although you are going to miss out on the ladder match in a few weeks, you seem pretty occupied with several new enemies since arriving to Monday Night Raw. Should you end up in a match in Chicago, which opponents would you most look forward to… um… battling?” Your formerly boiling blood froze over as your anger lost its momentum. Leaving you with a confused lone wolf.
Baron looked down the hall in thought. “Well, miss…?”
“Y/N.”
“Y/N. At the moment I owe Kevin Owens and Sami Zayne a good pair of punches in the mouth. Although, Jose should have lost tonight a lot quicker than he did. And as for Titus World Wide… well. Maybe they aren’t worth the effort,” Baron ended with a smug smile.
“Thank you.” You gave him a curt nod. “Good luck with the rest of your evening.” You stepped off the box and walked down the hall, heels loudly clacking all the way and not looking back.
May 22 – Smackdown Live – Worchester, MA
Billie Kay jumped around the ring as the referee finished counting to three. She was officially going to Money in the Bank instead of Lana, who looked heartbroken at the outcome of their match. You waited backstage with Charlotte Flair who had watched the match on a screen.
“Ms. Flair, Billie Kay has now joined you in the Money in the Bank Match against Ember Moon and Alexa Bliss and others. If it comes down to the two of you…”
“It’s Charlotte, and Billie does not ignite a spark of thought in my mind,” she interrupted. “Once the bell rings, it’s every woman for herself. We both know that, and we are aware of the consequences.” She gave you a kind smile, telling you that was all she was going to say on the matter. “Thank you, Ms. Flair.” You closed your eyes and sighed. “Sorry. Force of habit for people I really respect.”
“Thank you, Ms. Flair.” You closed your eyes and sighed. “Sorry. Force of habit for people I really respect.”
Charlotte’s smile brightened if that was even possible. “I appreciate that. And I appreciate what you said to Alexa the other day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone stand up to her so quickly.”
“Yeah,” you dragged out. “That had the opposite effect than what I was expecting. Mr. Angle talked to Ms. Paige, and this is my last night of the Smackdown journalism crew. It seems he liked I stood up to Alexa last week, and then to Baron yesterday. Which is unfortunate, because I was really looking forward to becoming friends with you guys.”
“Awe,” Charlotte pouted. “I think you’re already friends with a bunch of us. And there’s all the dual-branded pay per views this year.” She patted your shoulder. “Don’t fret. You’re going to be great where ever you are.”
“Thanks… Charlotte. And good luck at Money in the Bank.” You blushed as she held out the ‘teacup’. You held up your pinkie and imaginary cup and toasted her.
Your night was not done. You still had one last interview to do with the Bar after their match against the Bludgeon Brothers. Since Cesaro was going to be in the ladder match, he and Sheamus weren’t really on their hitlist. More like practice.
“Worst night ever,” Sheamus grumbled, leaning on Cesaro as they came down the hallway. “And what’s this about you leaving already?” They stopped in front of you.
“Them’s the breaks. I don’t really want to leave either, but I’ve got college to pay off. Paige hasn’t said anything about it, but are you guys worried at all about the Bludgeon Brothers possibly interfering with the Money in the Bank match? If Cesaro wins the match, it’s very possible that you guys could use it to take the tag team championships away from them.” You held out your mic.
The guys were stunned. They must not have thought about that.
“Huh.” Cesaro tilted his head. “That might explain why they seemed extra angry tonight.” He waved his hands, clearing the air. “If that’s their plain, then let them try it. We’ve got your heads up now and can plan accordingly. So, thanks.”
“No problem. Any last thoughts until I have to say goodbye until then?”
Sheamus wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave you a quick squeeze. “Nah. We’ll just miss seeing you around. Though I have to admit,” he side-eyed Cesaro, “I look forward to you sassing everyone on Raw.”
You inflated our cheeks and then let the air out. “I don’t know about everyone. But we’ll see how it goes. Good luck to you guys.” They did their pose, making you giggle, then left you to your last thoughts as a journalist for Smackdown.
Y/N, known to the world as Starhawk, and Nightwing help save the live of a pathologist. Life is going well and her niece is visiting, but finding the truth of who hired the assassin leads to some frightening developments.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: some fluff, heck of a lot of angst, deadly influenza threat, violence, blood, needles
Word Count: 3900 (longer than usual, more to say this time)
Note: Oh my God, you guys are going to hate me. Besides the obvious, please let me know what you think about the fic. Requests open. Tag lists open.
Blair Bones shoved the second magazine into his gun. The lab was covered in broken glass and leaking chemicals. He avoided bumping into anything as he stepped closer to his target. The scientist was huddled in the last available corner.
“I’ll give you anything you want,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.
“But you don’t have anything I want.” Bones cocked the gun.
“Then why are you doing this?”
Bones smirked. Always that question. “Because someone wants you out of the way.”
Nightwing smirked as the last set of handcuffs clicked into place. The would-be robbers were barely conscious. One was snoring.
“Is that the last of them?” You rightened the last file cabinet and straightened the pencils on the desk. The scientist who belonged to the office had called you several days ago about a possible break-in. And that another might occur. Which it did, but this time you and Nightwing were ready.
“Yes.” Nightwing signaled on his com, “Robin, order ready for pick-up.”
“Cops there in two. See you when you’re done.” Tim left the coms.
You leaned against the wall. “Two minutes. Topic or front door delivery?” Nightwing shook his head back and forth considering.
“As much as I would like to shoot the breeze, why don’t we-“ Both of you froze as gunfire filled the air. “Speaking of shooting… you guys, don’t go anywhere.” The robbers groaned. Nightwing lead the way towards the source of the shots. He slid along the tiles into a lab, you close on his heels. It was nearly completely demolished. A broad-shouldered person had their back to you, while a smaller man huddled on the floor, pleading for his life.
The huddled man attempted to squeeze himself further into the corner. “Please, don’t!”
Nightwing drew his batons. “Hey!”
The broad-shouldered man turned, and you instantly recognized Blair Bones. Gun for hire at a cheaper rate than his skills were worth, you’d never seen him in person before. Nightwing leapt into action, engaging Bones. You ran to the scientist’s side; he was shivering, and his eyes were beginning to glaze over. Staring death in the face usually had that effect on people. You hauled him to his feet, forcing him to hurry as the sparring between Blair and Nightwing escalated. Glass shattered over your head as Bones’ attempt to shoot your partner was redirected in the scuffle. The scientist stumbled, falling behind a table. Out of the way. Safe.
You joined the scuffle, giving Nightwing time to take a breather. In the haste to get away once he realized he was outnumbered, Bones stumbled back into a window weakened by earlier gunfire. You tried to grab his vest to keep him from falling, but he fell with a cry. Nightwing rushed to your side. Below, Bones rolled to a stop. Your goggles zoomed in on a flash-drive drive that fell out of his pocket. The assassin was more focused on getting away than the evidence he left behind and ran off into the night without it. A few seconds later, blue flashing lights rounded the corner and Gotham’s best swarmed into the building to collect the earlier sting.
“Are you alright,” you asked, turning to the scientist. He nodded, shivering. Nightwing helped him to his feet. “Can you tell us why you think you were targeted?”
“I am Doctor Daniel Havran, and I’m one of the pathologists here. I’ve been developing a cure for an H6N1 influenza virus.”
While Dr. Havran continued his story, you went back to the window and shot one of your smaller grappling hooks. Soon you had the dropped flash-drive in your pocket.
Dr. Havran accepted the fire blanket Nightwing used to combat his shock. “A few weeks ago I started to receive threats to stop my work. Such threats are pretty usual for this line of work, so I thought nothing of it. Until now.” He leaned against a lab table. You and Nightwing shared a look. If the threats had been going on for a while, then the threatener had plenty of time to hire Blair Bones. And plenty of time to plan an alternate if Bones couldn’t finish the job.
Nightwing gently took the scientist’s arm. “We can have you in a safe house in five minutes. Right this way.”
Later in the Batcave, you had started to rummage through the files on the disk.
“Bones wasn’t searching for one specific thing, or he didn’t have time. Pretty much the whole office is on here.” You gestured at the screen. “Schedules, RNA strands, a list of everyone’s favorite snack. If he was there to kill Dr. Havran, why take all this too?” Dick, fresh out of uniform, stood behind your chair and rubbed his hands down your back. “And I keep seeing files for the H6N1 virus, but another one stored under that called ‘Thunderbird.’ But that’s encrypted.”
“You can worry about that one tomorrow. Right now you have a visitor about to come through the front doors.”
You were off like a shot, shedding the last of your uniform as you went. By the time you caught up with Alfred in the atrium, you looked like any other young woman your age lounging in your home. You caught your breath and waited for the doorbell. Alfred smiled at you and opened both doors as dramatically as possible to let in a little girl no taller than three feet.
“Auntie Y/N!” She ran straight into your arms, squealing as you lifted her into the air and spun her around. “This place is so big! Do you really live here? Why is the driveway so long, and how come you don’t have a mailbox? I’ve missed you much!”
“And I’ve missed you too, Wiggle Bug.” You put her down and kneeled beside her, looking up at Alfred. “Isi, this is Alfred. If you can’t find me, he’s available for all questions and raids of ice cream.” She gave him an adorable tiny wave. “Alfred, this is my niece, Isi.”
Ne kneeled down to your level and took her small hand in his for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Miss Isi. Do you have a favorite flavor?”
Isi curled into your shoulder, suddenly shy. “Strawberry. Please.” She looked up at you.
“It’s a little late for it tonight, but…”
“Perhaps at lunch?” Alfred finished. When Isi smiled in agreement, Alfred nodded and lifted her luggage to take to her room.
She met the family next. She took to Bruce the most. How could she not? He was like a giant teddy bear around children. Tim promised to show her the best hiding places in the mansion, and Jason let her see his tattoos. She seemed to like one of the black and white ones the best, asking if she could color it in for him with markers one day. Damian helped her disappear in order to show her his new kittens for a few minutes while you filled Bruce in on the night’s events.
“Keep looking through the files. See if there is anything in an earlier, more personal folder about who might have hired him.” He nodded at Dick, who walked in on the end of the conversation, then left for the cave to start his shift.
Isi came bouncing back into the den, just in time to see Dick kiss the back of your neck. “Is he your lover, Auntie Y/N?”
Dick chuckled and buried his head into your hair. “Am I your lover, Y/N?”
“He is my boyfriend, yes. Where did you get ‘lover’ from?”
She crawled up onto the couch to fiddle with a tassel on a pillow. “Mom’s neighbors call each other that. Do you guys hug a lot too?”
“It’s getting kind of late, so let’s show you your room.” You sat Isi on your hip, who drowsily rested her head on your shoulder. You walked by Dick and rolled your eyes. The questions of a child.
While you pulled down her covers, Isi finished brushing her teeth. On her way out of the bathroom, the door closed faster than she was expecting, catching her fingers. You rushed to her side as she began to cry. She quieted down to whimpers as you blew cold air across the injured fingers. You sat her on the bed.
“I’m sorry that big door got you, sweetie.” You wiped away her tears and kissed across her knuckles. “Are you going to be okay?” She muttered something close enough to a yes. The pain must have receded a bit if she could rub her eyes with her injured hand.
“I’d be better if I could have some ice cream.”
If she wasn’t your niece she could have been your child.
“Tomorrow for lunch. I promise. Now,” you kissed her forehead and eased her back into the pillows, “it is time for you to go to sleep. Sweet dreams, Isi.”
Isi yawned. “Sweet dreams, Auntie.” She was asleep before you left the room.
Dick brought you a cup of coffee the next morning as you continued pouring over the flash-drive. “How’s it going?”
“Bruce was right. It was called ‘music money,’ but I found the list of clients. He had a few targets to go after, but Dr. Havran was supposed to be the easy one. I’ve already alerted the other targets and gotten them some protection. Oh, and” you took a sip of the coffee, humming at it’s perfection, “I talked to Havran this morning. Took me ten minutes to get off the phone for all of his appreciation.”
Dick chuckled. “He did almost die.”
“Yeah.” You scrunched up your nose in thought. “But this other virus… Thunderbird… it’s super encrypted.” You continued observing the client list, smiling when you found what you were looking for. “And look at this.” You leaned back so Dick could read the screen.
“Falcone? Seriously?” Dick opened the recording of the video agreement. Seems Bones liked keeping good records in case someone wanted to backpedal on their contract. Dick whistled. If Falcone found out that Bones had a taped hit order of his, there wouldn’t even be bones left of him. “But why a pathologist? That doesn’t sound like him.”
You nodded your head in agreement. “Let’s go and ask him. Tonight.”
The rest of the day was consumed by entertaining Isi. There was indeed ice cream at lunch, and after a private and quiet tour of Wayne Tower, there was a pizza dinner in Bruce’s office. By the time you made it back to the manor, Isi was exhausted. She also complained about her stomach hurting. You figured that last slice was too much for her small stomach. Alfred carried her to bed so you and Dick could get ready for the night’s mission.
For all of Carmine Falcone’s mob boss bravado, it was laughably easy to sneak into his office. There was one tripped signal on the way in, but you made sure the camera only saw a stray cat. You and Nightwing waited in the shadows for only a few minutes before you heard voices approaching.
“I do not want to be disturbed,” Falcone said, pushing the double doors open. “And if that buffoon Bones shows up at our door, shoot him.” He slammed the doors shut and eventually collapsed into his desk chair. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyebrows to his temples. “I know you’re in here. You’ve used the cat before.”
“Damn,” you partner grumbled under his breath. He tapped your shoulder and followed you out into the dim light provided by the desk lamp.
“Why did you hire Blair Bones?” There was no use making small talk, so you cut to the chase.
Falcone shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I’d been paying that little lab weasel to create a new virus and antidote. I take it you’ve met?” He nodded as you both remained silent. “He became… erratic. Kept talking about a New Gotham. A new start. Originally, I was in it for the money, and for once didn’t want to kill anybody. He told me he’d found an influenza strain that was weak enough to do what I wanted: create a panic for a cure without wiping out all of my future customers.”
“That sounds a little out of the box for you, Falcone,” Nightwing said.
Falcone got up and took a small case from his bookshelf. “Agreed. But I have learned my lesson. I’ve come to believe there are more psychos in lab coats than in Arkham.” He opened the case where you could see there wasn’t a gun. Instead, there were rows of pills. He picked one, rubbing it between his fingers.
“Wait-“
Falcone swallowed the pill. For a few seconds, none of you moved. You were confused when Falcone gave a sigh of relief.
“Havran told me he had another virus. Thunderbird. Lethal and quickly spreading. I made sure he had an antidote as a stipulation for the funding. These are a few of the test trials, good for emergencies but not for duplication. Also,” Falcone sighed, “Thunderbird was going to be most dangerous to the elderly and to children.”
“A new start,” you whispered.
“Yes. The weasel infected himself the night Bones showed up. The goal was to kill him before then, though after would have worked too. Unfortunately, Bones failed in both. Because of you two.”
Nightwing stepped closer to Falcone. “How long until he is infectious?”
“You two are probably already infected. Carriers of Thunderbird.”
You swallowed hard and grabbed Nightwing’s shoulder. Children. Lethal.
Isi.
Nightwing nodded and called the safehouse from coms. Falcone shook his head when nobody answered. You walked further away and called the manor. Alfred’s words froze your blood.
“You need to get here. Now.”
You left Nightwing to deal with Falcone, racing home.
Isi’s labored breathing stopped you in your tracks. You leaned heavily against the doorframe and did your best not to cry.
“Auntie?” she rasped.
“I’m here, sweetie. I’m here.” You forced yourself to walk on solid feet to her bedside. All the way home you had replayed the incident with the smashed fingers last night. Wiping away her tears. Blowing on her fingers, which she used to rub her eyes. You fell to your knees and took Isi’s hand.
You had infected your niece with Thunderbird.
“How’s my wiggle bug feeling?” You could be strong. You could be there for her. You could fix this.
Alfred tucked in the comforter around her on the other side of the bed. “Fever. Chest pains. She was a little confused when she woke up as to where she was, but we’ve got that sorted out now.” He gave you a small smile and left you too alone.
“Alfred won’t let Damian bring me any kittens,” Isi pouted. She gave your hand a weak squeeze and let out a shuddered breath.
You tried to smile. “You don’t want to get him or the kittens sick, do you?” Isi shook her head no and closed her eyes. You placed your hand on her forehead, terrified when it was so warm. You could fix this. Isi was going to be okay. You can do this. Your ignored tears sank to make your chest hurt. As quietly as you could, you left the room. Alfred was waiting outside.
He spoke before you could get a chance. “She’s stable. And I will call you with any change.” He patted your shoulder and sent you on your way to come up with a plan.
Batman gave his blessing to you and Nightwing to finish the case. He stayed in the cave with some of your infected blood and a list of everyone either your or Nightwing came into contact with. If all else failed, perhaps he would be able to make a few calls and come up with an antidote.
The safehouse was empty and cold. That wasn’t unusual from the outside, but inside? Inside was… terrifying.
Nightwing had sent for someone earlier to check on the guard. He was alright but was being held in quarantine. The atrium showed the struggle from where Dr, Havram attacked him after inviting him in for coffee. There was glass from a shattered vase, a tangled rug that tripped the guard, and an empty injector gun. You audibly gasped at the sight of the kitchen. Crystalline glasses and hot plates had been transformed into make-shift chemical equipment. Papers obliterated with writing covered every other available surface. Where Dr. Havran had run out of paper, more formulas and ramblings were written on the walls.
“Here,” Nightwing said, pointing out a line of text. It was written in larger letters and seemed to be burned into the wall. “With death comes rebirth.” Nightwing grit his teeth. “I am really starting to not like this guy.”
In one notebook you found addresses of other labs scattered between other ramblings. The whole notebook was written backward to only be read while standing in front of a mirror, like Da Vinci’s notes. But that’s what the high-tech goggles were for. With a quick check on a map of Gotham, you found the one that was closest to the safehouse location. It was dying apartment complex across the road from a school that taught almost all of Gotham’s underprivileged children.
Your body vibrated, your nerves hovering between checking every nook and cranny for anything about how to save Isi and rushing to the lab to take from the source. The stay was only a few minutes, though it felt longer. You were glad to be off when the apartment complex came into view. A man sleeping by the stairs said that a ‘crazy dude in a white coat’ had kicked everybody out a month ago by claiming the building was condemned. Technically it was, but the ‘imminent threat’ of collapse seemed to convince everybody this time around. The man even knew what floor he was on.
Once inside the building, it was not difficult to find the spare lab. Dr. Havran had taken over what had been a promising renovation for a community study hall. Most of the 80’s computers had been thrown into the hallway, their broken screens illuminated by the harsh lights freed from their lampshades. The desks had been pushed together to similarly resemble the kitchen at the safehouse.
In the center of it all, Dr. Havran was peering through a glove-case finalizing a vial. While the exterior was being disinfected by a small motor mist, he freed himself of the gloves and stepped back with a chuckle.
“So Falcone tipped you off that I’m unstable? You wouldn’t have been here for another few hours at the earliest if he hadn’t.” He unlatched the side of the case for the vial. Swinging it back and forth, threatening to drop it, he tutted at your attempts to rush him. “I wouldn’t if I were you. This is the only collection of a viable antidote. If I drop it, it won’t survive outside of the glass. You’ll need an injector gun, much like this one. Oops.” Dr. Havran held up the tool with a grin, then smashed it onto the floor. The delicate muzzle shattered on impact.
A shiver of anger crawled up your spine. There had to be another way to use the antidote. You had to keep him talking.
“Then what?” you asked. “You infect the school. The children take it home to their parents who take it to their coworkers who take it home to their children.” Stepping around a table, you moved slowly towards him. “You wipe out a generation, all for nothing.”
“No, not for nothing,” he cooed. “Like mushrooms from dead trees or fresh fields from volcano ash, with death comes rebirth. Gotham will be an example to other cities that it must care for its children more than they are doing now. Make new laws, cast old ones out. Gotham will be the epicenter of rebirth.”
You growled, “innocent children. Did you lose someone? A son or daughter, or a niece or nephew?”
Dr. Havran shook his head in confusion. “Why do I need to be connected with the persecuted to see the need? To help them?”
It was twisted. You had heard enough. And had distracted him enough for Nightwing to circle behind him. He grabbed the vial and sent the scientist to his knees with a flick of his baton. Nightwing placed the vial in the belt clip-on made exclusively for vials to keep them from breaking. He turned to rush back to the manor, but Dr. Havran grabbed his ankle. Nightwing cried out as he fell and found himself under the doctor’s mad attack.
Rushing forward, you kicked Dr. Havran’s claw-like hands away and descended on him yourself. He reached back under the desk and pointed the found gun at your face. You rolled away barely evading the bullets that impeded themselves in the furniture around you. When you fell out of sight, Dr. Havran turned his attention back to Nightwing, shooting at him too.
For a scientist with terrible aim, he had both of you pinned down pretty well.
“How desperate are you for the cure, Starhawk? Nightwing? Who did I infect through you? A son or daughter? A niece?”
Your rage boiled over. With a scream that revealed that he had hit his mark, you flipped over the cabinet covering you. Arms outstretched and hands ready to claw out his throat, your anger blurred your vision too much to see the handful of long-needled syringes aimed at your chest. You gasped as the needles pierced through your suit and snapped off from their shafts. They stuck out of your chest like darts in a bar.
Dr. Havran took your pause of shock to break away. He almost made it to the door when Nightwing’s grappling rope wrapped around his ankles. Nightwing was on him in a second, handcuffing his wrists tightly. He broke a glass pill filled with sleeping smoke under his nose ensuring that he would asleep long enough to transport him to Arkham.
“Havran secured, Batman. Send in the blues and we’ll be home soon.” He rounded the corner with that smile he always wore when a crisis was averted. It fell away when he saw the needles. “No, no, no, no. Hang on.” He moved to kneel by you, but you waved him off.
“Isi. Get to Isi.” One or more must have pierced deep enough to your lungs because each breath felt like you were being stabbed over and over again. “Please. Isi.” You pleaded with your eyes, not trusting your voice not to betray the pain you were in.
He nodded. With one more glance to the blood seeping over your suit, he ran out of the building. Over the coms, you heard him tell Batman he was on his way. Faintly you heard Batman promising to meet him halfway to take the antidote to Isi. Then Nightwing could come back to you.
The windows reflected with flashing blue. The icy hot in your chest seeped further into your torso.
Isi was going to be okay. She was going to get the antidote. Isi was going to live.
Dick’s voice called you out of the sleep threatening to overtake you.
“I’m coming, Y/N. I can save you. We can fix this. You’re going to be okay. You can do this.”
The reader won’t tell Sheamus what’s bothering her.
Pairing: Sheamus x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: angst, talk of non-smut
Word Count: I have no idea, wrote this on the fly
Note: Wrote something I needed to hear. Thought maybe a few of you out there could benefit from it too. Reactions and feedback much appreciated.
Through the dark in the room, you could hear every puff of your breath, every rustle of the trees outside your window, and every squeak of the bed as you tried to find a comfortable position.
Never enough. Always in the way. I can’t give him what he wants.
The pillow beneath your face was wet where it had once been cool. There wasn’t even a point to wipe away a single tear. Not that you had the energy anyway.
When the door creaked open, you shut your eyes feigning sleep. The sound of stride let you know it wasn’t Alexa, who had agreed to be your roommate.
“Y/N? Are ya asleep, lass?” He waited for your reply. If you hadn’t forgotten to breathe in your attempt to remain absolutely still, maybe he would have just gone to bed. “Y/N,” he sighed. The bed dipped beside you and his large warm hand rubbed over your back where it was uncovered by the sheets. He lightly tugged on your shoulder until you rolled over to look at him. The light he turned on blinded you for a second, then all you could see was him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
How could you?
Everything you could say about how inadequate you felt for him, or how your blood froze and burned when he touched you, or the all the blinding fear about your future, it would only make him blame himself. For every time he wasn’t there to comfort you. To make you smile. To hold you. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. But your fears would only solidify his blame.
“I’m just tired.”
Sheamus shook his head. “That may be true, but that is not everything.” He cupped your face and ran his thumb up and across your cheekbone. “You can tell me anything.”
You bit your lip. It was all there. At the tip of your tongue. Waiting. Maybe if you drew blood it would wash away what he deserved to hear.
“Y/N?”
“I can’t,” you finally blurted. “I can’t hurt you.” You tried to roll back over, but Sheamus’s gentle grip on your shoulder made it so you could only turn your head. “Let’s try in the morning.”
“You are always going to say that.” Sheamus looked off into the darkness outside the window. “What is that verse your dad quoted at me the last time we met? ‘Don’t let the sun set on your anger.’ Whether or not if you’re mad at me or you think I’m mad at you, it’s already night. And I’m not going to sleep until I know what is tumbling around in your mind.”
You swallowed the dry taste in your mouth.
“I can’t give you what you deserve.”
His brow furrowed.
“You deserve,” you tried again, “you deserve someone who can take care of your… needs.”
His eyes closed as he realized. “I don’t need anything like that. You told me on our very first date that sex was off the table. Unless I liked you so much that I put a ring on ya,” he chuckled. He sighed when you didn’t even smile. “You laid your boundaries. And I am not going to cross them.”
“But I want to,” you choked out. “In that pause when we are standing so close to one another and I can almost feel your heart beating, I want to. I get so close and my heart feels like it’s soring and crashing all at once. But something always keeps me back. At this point, I don’t know if it’s my faith or my fear. Or both. If I give you that piece of me and something breaks down the line, will I lose you and myself?” The tears were running freely now. Hot and blurring your vision. “There’s like an unshakable weight every time we’re out together. When we smile at each other in our way and everyone shares that look with each other.”
“Then don’t look at them,” Sheamus said. “I stopped looking a long time ago. All I see when we share those looks is you. All I see right now… is you.” He gave your hand a squeeze.
Your chest hurt so tight you almost wished it would burst. When the sob finally ripped from your throat you curled up into his chest. You twisted the fabric of his shirt around your fingers. Breathed deeply to feel his hands on your back better.
“I can’t give all of myself to you.”
“Then don’t. I am perfectly, blissfully over the moon with what I have right now.” He angled your face up towards his. “You. In my arms. Telling me your worries so I can do what I can to show you how much I love you.”
You pulled his face down to kiss you. You didn’t want to breathe; you wanted to tell him how thankful you were that he was listening even though you had no more words. He rocked back and forth with you. His warm hands cupped your face, wiping away the tears that had turned to ice on your flushed skin. Your fingers worked their way under his sleeves, feeling how his shoulders flexed under your touch. You shivered and retracted your touch to stay only over the fabric.
Sheamus leaned back and removed his shirt. “You can feel me, lass. You can leave your clothes on, and if it makes you uncomfortable I can put mine back on.” He pressed his cheek against yours and whispered into your ear, “it’s okay, Y/N.”
“My nails are long. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
When you were finished making out several minutes later, you curled into Sheamus’s chest. His breathing steadied, steadying you. He ran his fingers through your hair, muttering soothing things in Irish. Before long, you were asleep.
The next morning he left you asleep and met Seth in the hotel work-out room.
“Damn, Sheamus.” He nodded at the bright red hash marks on his shoulders peeking out from under his tank top. “How hard did you guys go last night?”
“We didn’t. You know we’re not like that.”
Seth shook his head and continued prepping the weights. “You know, even if you would ask her father for permission next week it’s going to take six months at least before the wedding is done. And it’ll probably be closer to a year.”
“I know. I’m not worried.” Sheamus grunted as he started some bicep curls. “It doesn’t matter if I ask him in a month or in another year.”
Seth waited for him to say more. “And why is that?” he prompted.
Sheamus grinned. “When she’s ready, then I’m ready. Until then, I can wait.”
Our Deepest Desires 