Chapter 1: Gargoyle - Tyler Breeze/Seth Rollins/Samoa Joe
Summary:
Joe just wanted to go to dinner.
A cute drabble about the shenanigans Seth and Tyler get up to when they're home alone.
Chapter Text
“SETHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Seth Rollins, as any normal person would, jumped at the sound of his name being shouted across the house. He glanced up at the sound of footsteps.
Tyler came running into his room, leaping onto the bed and tackling Seth into the covers. The raven-haired male went down with a muffled screech.
Tyler giggled, wriggling off of Seth and sitting up proudly. He pointed to his face. “Look!”
Gasping for air, Seth rolled onto his back and sat up. He glanced at Tyler and nearly had his second heart attack of the day.
Tyler’s face was nearly unrecognizable. He had it covered in extensive FX-style makeup. His skin was painted a dark grey, and he’d changed his features by adding clay and sculpting new shapes from it. The face of a (frighteningly realistic) gargoyle stared back at him.
“What the hell is that?!”
Tyler beamed, grinning widely. This did not help the gargoyle’s appearance. “I’m a gargoyle! Isn’t it awesome?”
Seth looked him over. “Did you do that?” When the blonde nodded, he broke into a soft smile. “It looks amazing, Ty.”
The younger male squealed and hugged him tight, then pulled away to cup Seth’s cheeks. “Now you!”
Seth blinked in surprise. “Me?”
“Mhm! I wanna make you a scary gargoyle, too. Or we could do a zombie. Or a skeleton!”
He grinned at Tyler’s excitement - it was infectious. “Y’know Joe’s gonna kill you, right? We’ve got dinner in like… two hours.”
Tyler’s nose scrunched cutely. “If he doesn’t wanna kill me, I haven’t done my job right! C’mon, pleaseeee?”
Seth chuckled, pinching Tyler’s cheek affectionately. “Brat. Alright, make me into a gargoyle.”
The blonde squealed and immediately leapt out of bed, running down the hall to fetch his makeup supplies.
“Whoa,” Seth said, looking in the mirror.
“I told you! Pretty crazy, right?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t even recognize myself under all this stuff.”
Tyler wavered. “Do you… not like it?”
Seth glanced up at him, breaking into a smile. “Are you kidding? It’s incredible!” He lightly kissed Tyler’s warped, painted nose. “You’ve got such talent.”
Tyler melted under the praise and hugged Seth happily as the front door opened. “Boys!” A low voice boomed from the hallway. “I hope you’re ready for dinner!”
Seth and Tyler looked at each other, then at themselves in the mirror, bursting into a fit of laughter.
Moments later, Joe would receive his own heart attack, courtesy of his two very scary gargoyles.
Chapter 2: Suit - Roman Reigns/Triple H
Summary:
Roman Reigns looks entirely too good in a three piece suit.
Chapter Text
Roman looked good in a suit. Too good, if you asked Hunter. Especially on the nights they went out in public, or when they had interviews or red carpet events. The Game could practically smell the sex drive coming off the fans as they watched Roman go by.
The Samoan felt confident in a suit, so Hunter never complained. And if it was something private, there was nothing Hunter would rather see him in. Roman Reigns in a tight, navy blue suit that fit him just right, curly black hair slicked into a perfect bun, beard trimmed and well-kept. It drove Hunter wild. But in public?
Fuck.
And unlike the fans, he wasn’t allowed to react to it in any way. Professionalism was important, something the COO knew better than anyone. He’d had his toys in the past, of course, Seth in particular was one he’d grown fond of. But Roman was something else entirely. The only man - the only person that had The Game sneaking hidden hands under tables and around corners, palming himself to ease the near animalistic desire to take Roman where he stood.
And when they returned to the hotel. Oh, when they finally returned.
Hunter had to give Roman props for how well he knew the routine at this point - though he’d just as soon take points away for how often the Samoan tried to deviate from it.
There would be days where Roman was desperate for his touch, desperate to tear the clothing from his skin and fall to his knees in front of Hunter with a silent plea. Red carpets, meet and greets, long-winded interviews always wore him out, and he would crawl to Hunter like a puppy, needing to be held. Or, far more often, to be torn apart. Torn into a million pieces like only Hunter could. And Roman would lay there and let him, completely trustworthy in the knowledge that only Hunter could perfectly put him back together.
Then there were the other days. The better days, when whatever event had excited Roman and filled him with energy and fire, rather than draining him. And for as much as Hunter loved seeing Roman in a better mood, it led to an infuriating evening.
The door would slam shut; Hunter would deadbolt it. Finally. Every muscle, every nerve in his body would be on fire, itching to get his hands on Roman after an impossibly long day.
And there Roman would stand, innocent as could be, cuffs unbuttoned and rolled halfway up his forearms as he leaned against the bed. “What?” He’d grin and say. “You like me in the suit so much, why would you want it off?”
On average it would take about thirty seconds for Hunter to have Roman bent over the bed, showing him exactly why he’d wanted it off.
Chapter 3: Bat - Rhea Ripley/Dominik Mysterio
Summary:
Dominik Mysterio wants to be just like his Mami.
Too bad he's never touched eyeliner before.
Chapter Text
“What on earth are you doing?”
Dominik Mysterio glanced up in the mirror, looking at the figure leaning against the door frame behind him.
What he was trying to do was makeup. Eyeliner, specifically. Nothing fancy. But he’d fallen in love with Rhea’s little drawings on the skin below her eye. The scales of justice were perfect for their group. But, keeping with the spirit of the season, he’d wanted something a little more festive. Something like-
“A bat,” he said quickly, then inwardly cursed at his lack of a sentence. “I-I was trying to draw a bat.”
What he’d actually done is succeeded in getting makeup all over his cheeks and fingers and, inexplicably, his nose. He didn’t even want to look at the counter.
Rhea raised an eyebrow, looking him over for a moment before walking over to him. “Look at me.”
Dom bit his lip and slowly turned around, head lowered in embarrassment.
The raven-haired woman grinned softly. “Y’know,” she said, grabbing a makeup wipe, “the red in your cheeks really brings out those… ah, abstract splotches.”
He turned a deeper shade at her comment, but her smile wasn’t unkind as she began to clean his face, chin held delicately in her nails. Dom swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.
“So… why a bat?” she mused. She tossed the wipe and grabbed another one, rubbing his nose clean.
He scrunched it at the feeling, eyes taking in every inch of her appearance. “Cause it’s October, Mami. Wanted- I wanted to do something for Halloween.”
Rhea smiled at this, moving to clean his hands. “You’ve never shown an interest in makeup before.”
Dom glanced at her. “H-How do you know?”
“Please, baby, what’ve I told you? We’ve had our eye on you for longer than you realize. Am I wrong?”
He slowly shook his head, looking down again. “I just wanted to be like you,” he whispered.
The older woman paused, setting the wipes down and looking up into his eyes. “Is that right?” she asked softly. When Dominik nodded, she gave him a smile and winked, reaching for the eyeliner. “Why didn’t you say so, Dom?”
Dominik blinked, face still a soft pink. “Well I- I wanted to surprise you,” he mumbled sheepishly.
Rhea laughed softly and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Oh, don’t worry. You did that. Now why don’t you leave the makeup to me, yeah? At least for tonight?”
“Can you teach me?” he blurted out, face still red from the kiss.
Without missing a beat, Rhea uncapped the eyeliner and nodded. “Sure can, baby. First thing tomorrow.”
Dom’s features immediately softened and relaxed, a small smile coming over his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Rhea said, smiling as she leaned forward. “Now then… what kind of bat?”
Chapter 4: Knot - Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins
Summary:
Dean is just as sweet in putting Seth back together as he is cruel in tearing him apart.
Chapter Text
Seth yelped as Dean continued to tighten the rope, wincing and shifting in pain. “O-Ow, ow, Dean!”
The taller man growled, yanking the knots tighter. “Quiet- almost there…”
He whimpered. “I-It’s too tight, it hurts!”
Dean continued to ignore him, energy coursing through his veins as he listened to writhing male’s sounds. Seth always made such delicious sounds…
“OW, Dean, red!”
He froze, fire immediately dying from his eyes. The surge in his veins evaporated; he glanced up at Seth to see tears shimmering back at him.
Fuck . He hurriedly undid the ties binding Seth’s wrists together, pulling the rope free and letting it drop to the floor. “C’mere, baby.”
When Seth began to protest, he grabbed him by his upper arms and gently, carefully, pulled him down the hall. He took him into the bathroom, sitting him down on the side of the tub. “It’s alright,” he said quietly, half to himself. He grabbed a tub of ointment and crouched down in front of Seth, opening the lid.
Seth sniffled quietly. His wrists were red, rubbed raw from the harsh friction. Dean’s gaze softened. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I thought you were just having your fun, y’know I know how you like it.”
The split-dyed male shook his head jerkily, small tears rolling down his cheeks as he hugged himself.
“Alright, it’s alright. It’s okay. You did real good for me, yeah? You know how good you were?” Dean’s stomach flipped at the sight of Seth’s eyes widening, pupils dilating ever so slightly as he quickly nodded. The man’s lips were parted, drinking in Dean’s words like they were oxygen. He gave a soft smile. “Such a good boy, always a good boy for me, baby.”
Seth practically mewled, more pliant now as Dean took his hands and guided his wrists down to be level with him. He took a small scoop of ointment and began to rub it into the raw skin. Soft, slow circles as Seth gasped at the coolness.
“There we go… feels better, huh?” Dean grinned as Seth nodded. He took another small scoop, bringing the same refreshing relief to his other wrist. He ended this with a firm, gentle kiss to each wrist. “All better.”
Seth’s eyes fluttered; he swayed slightly at the touch.
“Hey, baby, look at me-” Dean cupped his chin, tapping his jaw and tilting his head. “Eyes open, there we go. What’s my name?”
The smaller man shifted, eyes distant and roaming for the answer.
“You’ve got it. What’s my name?”
“D-Da… Dad-Daddy…”
“Shhh… c’mon Sethie.” Dean placed a sweet kiss on his forehead. “Right, here, tell me.”
Seth’s brow furrowed with effort, brain searching as his lips moved silently for a moment. Then - “D-Dean…”
“That’s right, that’s good,” he breathed. He stood up, gathering Seth in his arms and lifting him off of the tile floor. “Now… how’s my baby feel about a movie?”
Brown eyes met blue sleepily as Seth leaned into Dean and pressed his cheek to Dean’s chest. “Cuddles?”
“Mm, always. Best cuddles for my best baby boy.”
Seth stirred, smiling tiredly, eyes half closed. “An… scary movie?”
He grinned, patting Seth’s thigh. “Of course, Sethie. Whatever you want. Blankets and popcorn, too.”
“Candy corn,” he corrected in a mumble.
Dean chuckled, keeping him close as he carried him back down the hallway. “Naturally,” he replied.
Chapter 5: Flame - Finn Balor/Seth Rollins
Summary:
If only the world knew how much the man with the phrase "Burn it Down" liked fire in the bedroom.
Chapter Text
“Deep breath, angel. Come on.”
Finn’s voice was like honey, warm and soothing as it washed over Seth’s ears. He was stretched out on their bed, arms and legs cuffed with soft but secure leather straps, wearing only shorts. His eyes were closed, wrapped in a silky black blindfold.
“Breathe,” Finn said again. “In…” Seth inhaled deeply; he could hear the Irishman do the same. “Good, and out..” He exhaled slowly, and Seth followed suit.
“That’s very good… are you ready?”
Seth gave a quick nod, heart rate quickening. He’d never done this with a blindfold before - well, he’d never done it at all. But in all the times he’d imagined it, he was always comforted by the idea that he’d be able to see what was happening.
Finn wasn’t one for staying in the comfort zone.
He heard the click of a lighter, followed by a moment of silence. “It’s lit. Let it warm.” Finn’s hand came up to rub Seth’s hip reassuringly, and the Architect nearly started to cry.
Finn Balor was the most wonderful man on the planet, and there wasn’t a day that went by where Seth didn’t praise the heavens for sending Finn his way.
Who else would have looked their partner in the eye, after listening to them talk for at least twenty minutes straight about how their biggest fantasy was being tortured by having hot wax dripped onto their skin, and said, “okay.”
And not in a judging way, not a concerned way, but Finn’s way. The way of a dom, where his eyebrows furrowed and Seth could tell at just a glance what his brain had jumped to - not talking Seth out of it or calling him names, but figuring out the safest way to give Seth exactly what he so desperately craved.
A surprised gasp escaped his lips as the first drop of wax hit his skin, eyes fluttering open beneath the blindfold. Through the darkened fabric, he could see the glowing flame of the candle that had just spilled its contents onto his arm. He shuddered at the feeling. It had hurt for only a moment before drying.
“Are you alright? I said I was tilting it.”
Seth squirmed softly on the bed, voice slightly sheepish as he whispered something about zoning out.
“Seth…” Finn’s tone was soft but firm, warning. He didn’t take these sorts of things lightly - he always wanted Seth to get what he asked for, but Seth had to follow the rules. The raven-haired male knew it, and Finn knew he knew it.
He shook his head quickly in response, shifting.
“You’ll pay attention?” A nod. Finn hummed and stroked his hair. “Very well. Ready for more?”
Seth gave another rapid nod, perhaps a bit too quick. But moments later the hot wax was dripping onto him again. It burned his arms and chest as Finn moved the candle around, letting it fall. And Seth sunk into the stinging sensation, eyes closing as the man who burned it down allowed himself to be burned by someone else's hands.
Chapter 6: Bouquet - Liv Morgan/Rhea Ripley
Summary:
So maybe they were Walmart flowers, and maybe they were dying, and maybe Rhea's heart felt like it was exploding each and every day because of what she'd done to Liv.
Chapter Text
Rhea quickly put the flowers in the vase, tapping the drooping petals and trying to get them looking alive. This is what I get for buying flowers at Walmart , she thought. The bouquet, once beautiful, was now sad and deteriorating. In her defense, they’d looked much better when she had first bought them… three days prior.
It wasn’t her fault, it was the scheduling, their scheduling never worked out, and Tuesday was the only chance she’d had to go to the store.
But now it was Friday night, and she was waiting in her hotel room for Liv to get back from SmackDown, and the dying flowers beside her did nothing for her hopefulness about how this was going to go.
The lock on the door began to jiggle; Rhea looked up to the sound of the handle turning. It opened, revealing Liv with several heavy bags, talking on the phone.
“Yeah. Yeah, no, I’ll handle it. I’ll handle it, I swear! Yes! Thank you, you too. Goodnight.” She hung up with a groan and looked up, freezing in the doorway.
Rhea gave an awkward half wave and a small smile. “Hey, Liv-”
The blonde swallowed, setting her bags down by the door and letting it swing shut behind her. “Rhea… I’m going to give you one chance. What’re you doing in my hotel room?”
“Our- hotel room. Remember?” Rhea scratched the back of her neck, looking away. “Hunter wanted us to reconnect.”
Liv stared at her for a moment. “Right. Well, I’m gonna hit the showers. There’d better be two beds.”
Rhea glanced at the two twin mattresses and back to her. “Hey, wait! Uh- I… I got these for you.” She gestured to the wilting bouquet.
“Dead flowers,” Liv said, nodding. “Appreciate it.” She turned to head towards the bathroom, but Rhea blocked her again. “Rhea-”
“Just hear me out. Please?” Rhea looked at her pleadingly. “I don’t want tonight to be miserable.”
Liv eyed her for a moment before sighing. “Fine. What’s up?”
Her shoulders relaxed, muscles slightly less tense at the knowledge that she would, at the very least, be heard out. “I’m sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Good start.”
“I’m so sorry, Liv. I never meant to hurt you, and I never meant for it to go this far. I was stupid, and selfish, and I turned on you to further my career, but I never thought-” Rhea broke off, swallowing hard. “This whole Judgment Day thing, I- I never wanted you involved. I didn’t know how angry you still were.”
Liv was silent for several moments. “You didn’t know how upset losing my best friend made me?”
Rhea looked away, a tear falling from her cheek. “I know how big of a mistake I made. But I still want to be here for you. Please. I want my best friend back.”
More silence. Rhea’s heart was pounding so loud she was surprised the whole hotel couldn’t hear it, let alone Liv.
The blonde exhaled slowly, looking into Rhea’s eyes, examining her expression for a long while. When she spoke, it was in a whisper. “So your way to make this up to me… was to buy some grimy, dead flowers from Walmart and give just about the lamest apology ever at midnight on a Friday? In a hotel room, no less?” Her voice was quiet, but Rhea could see the tiniest hints of a smile curved on her lips.
The raven-haired woman dipped her head, giving her own hint of a sheepish smile. “...Yeah, I guess so. Did… did it work?”
Liv bit her lip, looking Rhea up and down before suddenly running and jumping up into her arms. Rhea gasped, catching her just in time, holding her waist as those familiar legs wrapped around her hips.
The blonde grinned. “Perhaps. But I’ve got my eye on you, understand?”
Rhea dipped her head, holding her close. “I’d never do such a stupid thing again.”
“Good,” Liv said, leaning towards the beds. “Seriously, though, Walmart ?”
Rhea rolled her eyes but smiled, walking them both over to the plush sheets and starting to fall back. “In my defense,” she said as she landed on the mattress with a grunt, arms still wrapped around Liv, “I bought them on Tuesday.”
Chapter 7: Trip - Tyler Breeze/Samoa Joe
Summary:
Tyler loves fall but hates the great outdoors.
Joe has too much love for Tyler and too much money to spend to show it.
Chapter Text
Tyler ran into the room, suitcase half open and zooming down the hall behind him. He fell onto the couch with a squeak and beamed, turning to look back at the trail of clothes he’d left behind. “Oops-”
Heavy footsteps sounded from down the hall. A rumbling, low voice called out. “Tyler…”
“I see it, I see it. I’m coming!” He huffed and leapt up again, running and face planting in a large chest.
Another rumble, one that sent shivers down Tyler’s spine. “I hope that’s not disrespect I hear…”
He shook his head quickly, pulling away to peek up at the large Samoan sheepishly. Joe smiled down at him, eyebrows raised. “Good. Now, go pick up your clothes, we’re going to be late.”
Tyler stood on his tip toes and planted a kiss on Joe’s cheek before darting past him and gathering his things.
It was fall time, and the leaves had just started to change into their brilliant shades of red, yellow, and orange. The perfect time, when the only leaves that had fallen had yet to truly die, and still retained their beautiful colors as they lay on the pavement and grass.
Fall time was Tyler’s favorite time. And this year Joe had surprised him with a trip to New York City. The choice warmed Tyler’s heart because of its demonstration of how well Joe knew him. He loved fall, everything about it. Pumpkins, scenery, candy, Halloween, ghosts, corn mazes, warm drinks. But he hated the outdoors. Not all the time, necessarily, but the idea of spending a week in a tent in some park just to see some pretty leaves was, in Tyler’s mind, less than ideal.
But New York?
Spending the week in a fancy hotel (Joe only provided the best for his princess), buying hot pumpkin coffee at every corner café, and taking in the spirit with the millions of others there - all while still being able to go to the parks and pumpkin festivals and enjoy the beautiful scenery? Now that was his idea of a perfect fall vacation.
He grabbed the rest of his clothes and stuffed them back into the suitcase, zipping it closed.
“All packed?” Joe spoked behind him, looking with some amusement at the six full-sized suitcases Tyler had.
The blonde’s cheeks flushed; he nodded.
“Alright, princess. Get your coat and your water bottle, let me take these out to the car.”
Tyler beamed and went to run off before a sound from Joe stopped him. He turned, running back over and leaping into Joe’s arms. The larger man caught him with a grunt, chuckling. Tyler smiled, wrapping his arms around Joe’s waist. He kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Joe hummed and patted his thigh, kissing his lips sweetly. “You’re welcome, baby. Now go on.” He set the blonde down, watching fondly as he scurried off again.
Chapter 8: Match - Dominik Mysterio/Rhea Ripley
Summary:
Rhea's latest match didn't go well and she's less than thrilled.
At least she has her own personal cheerleader to help her through it.
Chapter Text
Rhea stormed into the backstage locker room, teeth gritted in frustration. What a nightmare. Her first match in months, months , and it just had to be with some klutz like Shotzi that didn’t know the first thing about fighting. Sure, Rhea had kicked her ass anyway, but the match had gone over like bringing steak to a vegan cookout. The crowd was the worst she’d ever experienced - not that it was their fault.
What an embarrassing match . She was fairly certain she wouldn’t be seeing action for quite a while after that. Her one chance, and Shotzi had blown it for her.
“FUCK!” She turned and flipped a small table near the door, watching with satisfaction as the contents of it spilled and shattered on the floor.
“Mami?”
That voice - fuck, that voice. Dom’s small, timid voice, quiet but always genuine, sweet but always with just a touch of mischief and that ache for the new and unfamiliar.
Rhea fell apart at that voice.
She turned around to see Dominik standing in front of one of the couches, face plastered with concern. His phone was sitting on the couch, his duffel bags too, and it was clear to Rhea that he’d just witnessed her entire outburst.
Her chest was heaving; she forced herself to calm as she put her hands out reassuringly. “I’m okay. I’m okay, Dom.” Her tone didn’t even convince herself - she sounded like she was telling herself the mantra more than anything.
Dom bit his lip and slowly came over, looking her up and down. “Would you like to sit?” Before she could even open her mouth, Dom had already gently taken her hand in his, leading her over to the couch and helping her to sit back on it.
She slowly exhaled, leaning back against the cushions.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
Rhea curled her lip, gesturing to the tv monitor that was now blaring the next promo. “That was the worst match of my life.”
Dom blinked, glancing at the screen then back to her. “What’re you talking about? I loved watching you.” His eyes were big and round and truthful - the sincerity made Rhea’s chest ache.
“It was a shitty match, Dom. I looked awful.”
“Shotzi looked awful,” he corrected. “That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it? How she botched those moves? Her own moves?”
She scoffed and looked away. “It doesn’t matter. She made a joke outta that match, and now I look like a joke too.”
“That’s not true!” Rhea looked back with wide eyes at the tone, and Dom ducked his head, shifting softly. “I-I just- you looked amazing, I’m not just saying that. Don’t let Shotzi’s mistakes reflect badly on your match. I didn’t see it that way, and I’m sure no one else did either.”
She curled her lip. “The crowd did.”
“Well, then who cares? The crowd is stupid. Audience is stupid. You know that. They don’t give a damn about the quality of true wrestling, they get mad if any one thing is out of place. It’s not your fault.”
“And what if I care? Huh?” She looked up at the young Mysterio. “What if I’m not proud of that match?”
“You should be. But if you’re not, that’s okay . It won’t be your last match.” Dominik smiled at her softly, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it softly. “I still think you did amazing.”
Rhea smiled faintly, looking him over. “And you aren’t biased at all, are you?”
His cheeks flushed, head still bowed as he kissed her hand again and again. “Guilty as charged,” he breathed.
Reaching around to cup the back of his neck, Rhea tugged Dominik forward and kissed him deeply.
Chapter 9: Nest - Tyler Breeze/Seth Rollins & Finn Balor/Seth Rollins
Summary:
In the midst of a beautiful season all about death, Seth and Tyler discover new life beginning.
Chapter Text
“Tyler! Seth!”
Both perked up at the sound of Finn’s voice. Tyler jumped up. “Coming!”
Seth grinned at the speed with which Tyler booked it from the room. He hopped out from his bed and followed the blonde quickly, looking for the location of his boyfriend’s voice.
“There you both are.” Finn was standing in the living room, smiling at both of them. “Hey baby,” he said as Seth approached. He wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close and kissing his lips sweetly.
Seth happily kissed back. “How was work?”
“Oh, it was wonderful, thank you for asking.” Finn smiled widely at Seth, arm still holding his waist as he smiled at Tyler as well. “I found something in the backyard that I think you’ll both quite like.”
Seth tilted his head at this, glancing at Tyler. The blonde looked back with equal curiosity. “What is it?” He asked Finn.
The Irishman grinned, turning and gesturing for them to follow as he led the way down the hallway and out into the backyard. He paused in the doorway, inhaling the fresh air deeply.
Tyler ducked under his arms with a roll of his eyes and huffed, tugging Seth along. He gasped, narrowly avoiding a collision with Finn.
“I swear, he’s worse than Joe,” Tyler snickered. “Outdoor lovers.”
“Hey, I love the outdoors!” Seth protested, crossing his arms.
“Mhm! You’re all a bunch of nuts. At least Daddy knows not to spend money taking me somewhere nature-y.”
Seth shook his head, turning back to Finn as his boyfriend stepped out into the lawn. “So? What did you wanna show us?”
Finn winked. He took Seth’s hand and led both boys over to the lone tree in the backyard, small one with low hanging branches. He pointed at the crook between two of them, where a small bundle of sticks lay. “Check it out.”
Seth perked up. “A bird’s nest!” He walked over carefully.
“A bird’s nest? That’s what you dragged me out here for?” Tyler hugged himself, teeth chattering slightly. “It’s cold !”
Finn smirked softly. “Surely you own a coat?”
Before Tyler could retort, Seth gasped. “Hey, Ty? I think you’re gonna wanna see this.”
Still glaring at Finn, Tyler trudged over, leaning into Seth for warmth and standing on his tiptoes. Seth smiled and wrapped his arms around the blonde’s waist. “I can’t believe they’re here so late in the year.”
He could practically feel Tyler melt in his arms as the younger male saw the contents of the nest - three baby robins, identifiable by their classic blue eggshells that still littered the nest.
“They’re so CUTE!” Tyler squealed softly.
Finn walked up behind them, taking another peek for himself as he smiled. “Thought you didn’t like nature, Ty?”
The blonde was too distracted to be annoyed. “Yeah, but- but babies!” He squealed again.
Seth rested his chin on Tyler’s shoulder. The birds were ugly in the most adorable of ways - all wrinkled and featherless, eyes not yet open. He had no idea baby birds could come this late in the year. They probably weren’t supposed to, and yet… here they were. Alive and moving and full of potential. Something about it made Seth’s heart flutter.
There was a message there, one too covered by a fall breeze and a chattering blonde, but that was okay.
Seth was happy where he was.
Chapter 10: Pick - Roman Reigns/Seth Rollins & Dean Ambrose
Summary:
Roman and Seth haven't been to a pumpkin patch in years, but now they have a reason to go again.
Notes:
For those of you that have read my Snow Angel series, this will soften the blow that I haven't updated it in months. Enjoy!
Chapter Text
“Alright Dean, you ready?” Roman parked in the grass and looked in the rearview mirror. He smiled as the babe nodded, squealing and looking outside with bright eyes.
“Are you ready?” Roman turned back to look at Seth, sitting in the passenger seat and eyeing him with some amusement.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” The Samoan asked with a huff.
His cheeks flushed as Seth snorted. “When was the last time you went to a pumpkin patch?” He opened the door in Roman’s silence, grinning. “That’s what I thought.”
“When’s the last time you went to one?” Roman shot back, but Seth was already out of the car.
He rolled his eyes, turning off the car and stepping out to stretch. Seth was already at the backseat door, unbuckling Dean from his car seat and lifting him into his arms. Roman couldn’t help but smile. Seth was so good with Dean; they were like best friends. and the way they’d immediately clicked had always made Roma’s heart ache.
“Come on, you two.”
Seth winked at Dean and placed him on his hip, walking towards the entrance of the farm. “This place is beautiful,” he remarked.
Roman dipped his head in agreement. “I’ve never been. Only found out about it last year, but I just ended up not going.” He smiled, reaching over to stroke Dean’s curly hair. “I have a reason to now.”
Seth smiled, following Roman through the entrance and peering around. “So… do we just go?”
“I think so.” Roman took in his surroundings. The pumpkin patch was fairly empty; it was early in the day. In front of them was a long stretch of full-sized pumpkins, still attached to the vines. To their left were several large baskets, filled with funky pumpkins, white pumpkins, and other large gourds. To their right was an outdoor shop-like set up, where people paid. He could just make out smaller bins and trays filled with baby pumpkins underneath the awning - a chance to get people to add to their purchase at the last moment. They were pretty cute pumpkins.
He turned back to Seth. “Yeah, looks like it.”
Seth grinned and nodded, looking at Dean. “Ready to go look at some pumpkins?” The babe nodded, and Roman smiled as Seth lowered him to the ground, holding him just inches from the dirt. “Ready… set…”
Dean’s little legs (Roman had chosen some blue plaid overalls for him to wear) were already running in the air, his arms moving back and forth to try and gain traction. The two played this game often.
“Go!” Seth set him down, and Dean immediately took off, waddling at a fast and rather efficient pace down one of the rows of pumpkins. He was giggling loudly; the bright sound made Roman’s smile widen even more.
“He’s so damn adorable,” Seth sighed, watching him go. “I’m glad he has you.”
Roman blushed softly, head turning to the younger male. “Me? I’m glad he has you . I dunno what either of us would do without you.”
Seth’s cheeks flushed. He placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder, smiling reassuringly. “You’re his father,” he reminded him. “And you’re doing a fantastic job.”
“I hope so,” he murmured in response. “Sometimes I worry-”
“Da! Da-da!” Roman was interrupted by a squealing voice, and he turned to see Dean a few hundred feet away, trying to tug a pumpkin the size of him from the vine. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.
“See?” Seth nudged him and smiled. “He knows. Don’t worry, Deano, Uncle Seth’s gotcha!” He called out, jogging down the row.
Roman watched as Dean continued to tug the pumpkin, even looking up at Seth and shaking his head when the raven-haired male went to reach for it. “Da-da,” he said firmly.
Seth stood up in amusement, turning to look at Roman. “I’ve been denied. Better get over here.”
The Samoan grinned softly. He walked down to meet them, crouching down and grasping the pumpkin in two large hands. A firm tug broke it from the vine and led to a happy squeal from Dean. “This the one you want, baby?”
When Dean nodded, Roman lifted it up and placed it on his shoulder, patting it. “Good choice.”
“Course it is, it’s Dean’s choice.” Seth winked at him, glancing down at the babe and offering his hand. “C’mon, Deano, let’s go look at the baby pumpkins. Spend more of your Daddy’s money.”
Roman rolled his eyes, but smiled as he watched Seth and Dean run towards the checkout awning together, Dean’s bubbling laughter filling the air all the while.
Chapter 11: Sour - Dominik Mysterio/Rhea Ripley
Summary:
Rhea may have Dominik under her thumb, but Dom has his own possessiveness burning.
Chapter Text
Something about Damian Priest left a sour taste in Dominik’s mouth.
He couldn’t figure out what it was for the life of him, but from the very first time Dom saw him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something about Damian was very, very wrong. And once he’d joined the Judgment Day, the feeling had only grown.
Rhea and Damian were extremely close. That alone was enough to make Dominik’s blood boil - Rhea was his . Not… that he’d ever be bold enough to say that aloud. It was less of an ownership and more of a possessiveness, anyway. Dom was simply ridiculously jealous of the kind of attention Rhea gave to Damian. He hated it.
He liked when Rhea’s attention was on him and him alone.
That’s why standing on the ring apron, watching as Rhea knelt down to check on Damian after a clothesline, made something curl in Dominik’s stomach. He hid his expression from his team and from the crowd, brain buzzing to block out the jealous voices until the match was over.
“Dom Dom!”
The young Mysterio glanced up when he heard that voice - Rhea’s voice - calling him from down the hall. He jumped up, running over to the door and opening it.
Rhea was leaning up against the door frame, grinning up at him. Her eyes glinted devilishly. “Hey, baby. Been looking for you.”
His cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I- I came back here right after the match.”
“Mmm… and where’d you have to be that made you scurry off in such a hurry, eh?”
Dom swallowed, looking away without reply.
The raven-haired woman tsked, brushing past him and snapping her fingers as a sign to follow her. She pointed to the couch. “Sit.”
He did so quickly, looking up and blushing deeply as she slid into his lap. She placed one hand on his chest, the other coming up to slide through his hair. His eyes fluttered pleasurably, then he winced as she tugged his head back.
She hummed, twirling a strand in her fingers. “Now then,” she said, piercing eyes meeting his, “what’s going on?”
Dom squirmed under her gaze. He gave a half shake of his head. “It… It’s nothing, I swear.”
Rhea looked him over, sighing softly. “You always were a bad liar, Dom. Even before you joined your family, I could smell your disloyalty to your father a mile away. Now-” Her fingers walked slowly up his chest, lifting his chin up with a pointed nail- “what’s. Going. on.”
He looked up at her nervously for several moments, that same feeling in his stomach bubbling and rising to the surface. “Y-You just spend so much time with Damian and pay him so much attention and sometimes I- I feel like you don’t care about me anymore!” He stared at her with wide eyes, chest heaving when he had finished speaking. Did he really just say all that?
The dark haired woman was silent. Finally, she glanced at him, expression unreadable. “Is that really how you feel, angel?”
He gave a hesitant nod.
She frowned, bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks with surprising gentleness. “Why are you just telling me this now, love? All this jealousy, burning a hole in your heart…”
Dominik took a shaky breath. “I thought… I thought you’d be angry. You’re not angry?”
“Of course not,” she reassured him. Her thumbs stroked Dom’s cheeks firmly, causing his eyes to flutter pleasurably. “Look at me.”
He did so, eyes round and large, reading to drink in whatever she said like it was water he needed to survive. It was water. He sustained himself on Rhea’s words.
“Damian and I have been friends for a long time. We’re close, I won’t deny it. But you and I?” She smirked, knuckles brushing against his jaw. “You’re my darling, hm? My baby. No one else’s. And I don’t have anyone else. You got that?”
Dominik closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and soaking in her words with a nod. A soft tap to the cheek had his eyes opening once more. “Hey," she breathed, face inches from his, "you know how much you mean to me, yeah?"
He gave a quick nod, and she smiled. "Yeah? Okay, that's good, baby, that's real good. Now... tell me my name."
“R-Rhea.”
Her hand gripped his chin, nails digging into his cheeks and lightly squishing his lips together. “Ah ah ah. What’s my name, Dom?”
He met her eyes, taking in her steady gaze, feeling the sensation in his stomach still for the first time in weeks. He relaxed in her hold, exhaling slowly.
“Mami. ”
Chapter 12: Forget - William Regal/Dean Ambrose
Summary:
William Regal is not a doctor. He's not a psychologist, and he's certainly not a home. But he's there. For whatever that's worth.
And it's worth a lot to Dean.
Notes:
This has a mature rating for language (more than I usually write) and severe depression and alcoholism. It's emotional and dark (not extremely, but it is) - this is your content warning.
Chapter Text
Dean Ambrose drank to forget. What he wanted to forget these days, he didn’t know. Or maybe he couldn’t remember. Maybe the liquor was working. The thought amused him.
When he started drinking, many, many years ago, it’d been a coping mechanism. A safety blanket, something that protected him from the horrors of his past and the difficulties of his present. Like that piece of shit, Seth Rollins.
Damn.
When he first met Seth, back in FCW, he hated him. Entitled little prick. At least, that’s what he exuded. But the closer Dean got to him, the more he realized just how similar he and Seth really were. And then they’d gotten on the main roster together, them and Roman Reigns.
Roman. Fucking Samoan god that he was. A powerhouse, too. They’d torn up WWE together, taken down everyone in their paths and left nothing in their wake. They ran the damn place for nearly two years.
And then that side of Seth just had to wiggle its way to the surface again. That part that he tried so desperately to hide, but Dean had sniffed it out from the moment he’d first laid eyes on him. He never should’ve lowered his guard.
Triple H (that bastard) had seen it too, that fire inside of Seth. He swooped right in and exploited it. And Seth became a corporate puppet. Handed everything. And Dean’s drinking worsened.
He and Roman stayed friends, of course. Dean was too attached to the oaf, and Roman knew Dean too well to let him out of his sight in the months after the Shield’s destruction.
It didn’t help.
Dean got sneakier, hid his alcohol better, and showed up to work with a doped up grin on his face and a spring in his step. “You’re drunk,” Roman would say, pulling him aside.
“I’m better,” he always replied.
It wasn’t until one night, after Dean’s particularly battered body was limping itself back to the hotel room, that something changed.
His torso was a mess of bruises from being ragdolled by Lesnar; he was three bottles of bourbon deep. An easy kinda night for him. He’d almost returned to the room - Roman was expecting him, he’d promised a fifteen minute walk - when a firm hand had grabbed him and dragged him the other direction.
He was shoved into a room and straight into his past, turning to see William Regal’s glowering figure looming over him.
The first time he’d met Regal… well. He’d thought Seth was a prick. Regal made Seth look like a humble association’s golden child. Regal was dark. He was nasty. He was fucking evil.
It was like looking in a mirror.
Dean hadn’t seen Regal in over three years. He didn’t even know the man was still in the company. He tried to speak, but Regal shushed him. Tried to leave, but Regal stopped him. Eventually, he’d given up, wandering over to the bed and sitting on it with a pained grimace.
Regal began some speech, some lecture about how Dean was killing himself. Dean found it hard to pay attention. He found it hard to give a damn.
As if his life was worth caring about. No one else seemed to. Not his family, not the company, definitely not Seth. Roman said he cared. He just wanted Dean to quit drinking.
He was in a daze for some time, till Regal seemed to catch on to his lack of focus. The Brit had dragged him up, eyes glinting as they pierced straight through Dean. It was the thing that finally had his attention, those eyes. They made him remember, at least in part, the role Regal had played in his life during those years in FCW.
Regal took on that role again that night. And the night after, and after, and after. He didn’t make Dean quit drinking, didn’t yell at him, didn’t do anything like anyone else in his life had ever, ever done.
Dean Ambrose drank to forget.
William Regal made sure he remembered.
Chapter 13: Kind - Damian Priest & Rhea Ripley
Summary:
Damian was intimidating, if you didn't know him. People were scared of him.
Rhea Ripley knew him. And those people couldn't have been more wrong.
Chapter Text
Rhea had known Damian for years. She loved Damian. Not like that , of course, but there’d always been speculation. And once they both became members of the Judgment Day? Forget about it.
For as much as the rumors were false, though, she didn’t mind them much. It honestly made her happy to see fans reacting and theorizing about something as sweet as the idea that they could be a couple. It made them see Damian in a different light.
Damian was intimidating, if you didn’t know him. A 6’5 giant with dark eyes and darker clothes. People were scared of him. They called him names, booed him, jeered when he came out to fight. Rhea could understand to an extent, but those that thought that way couldn’t be more wrong.
He was tough, that’s for sure. He’d been through things in his past that not even those closest to him knew. Not even Rhea, though she knew more than most. He was loyal, fiercely so. The things he’d done for her… loyal wasn’t a strong enough word for it.
A damn hard worker, and a great comedian. He would push her each and every day to be better, and then they’d sit for hours and laugh about all the stupid shit they had to put up with that week. They went to the gym together, drove together, ate together. Laughed and cried together. Hell, the week Rhea had a clothing malfunction and needed pants, Damian had given her his. And told her she looked damn good in them, too. He was dependable.
But above all, Damian Priest was kind.
Rhea had seen him stopped for a fan’s high five, ducking behind the cameras when he wasn’t supposed to be seen like that as a heel. Giving up his spot in a match and offering no complaints, a team player. He gave freely and openly of his time to everyone. Rhea had seen him donate money, clothes, food, everything.
She’d felt his arms around her, strong and safe as they held her while the world caved in. Listened to him banging around in the kitchen, making food for her while she was too far gone to do anything but sit numbly on the couch and watch tv. Smelled his cologne in his hugs and the soap on his hands as he helped her wash her hair. It’d been a week.
That man was everything to her. They were soulmates. Not in the way you’d expect, but something more. That quiet kind of love, that persistent, never give up, always gonna be there kind of love. And if Damian’s loyalty, his love, his pure and decent heart, could only be perceived by fans as a romantic attraction towards Rhea Ripley, then that was something she was on board with.
Anything to make the world understand just how good he could be. To break that tough exterior and reveal everything that spilled out from underneath. Even if they could never know what he’d done for her - or even if they could. Anything to make them see him just how Rhea saw him.
How kind they would be after that.
Chapter 14: Empty - Damian Priest/Finn Balor
Summary:
He was nothing.
But he'd be damned if Damian didn't make him feel like everything.
Chapter Text
Finn stood outside of Damian’s hotel room, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. He rocked back and forth on his heels.
It was late - too late, really, to be pulling something like this. A Monday night, or Tuesday morning, depending on how you looked at it, meaning they’d both just finished a grueling night on RAW. It had been a particularly rough one, a tag match that both Finn and Damian had been involved in that ended with Finn getting hit over the back with a chair. Rhea and Dominik had watched on from the outside.
He winced slightly at the memory, grimacing as the ache in his back once more came to the forefront of his mind.
He felt bad for knocking on Damian’s door at three in the morning. But he couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing and turning for hours, restless.
It’d been a long time since he’d been able to sleep. There was something going on with Finn, something he wasn’t entirely aware of and didn’t want to face. He hid it deep down within himself. He didn’t tell a soul.
He hadn’t even really told Damian. But somehow, he got the sense that the taller male knew. There was something empty in Finn, and Damian was always there to fill that missing piece.
Empty. Was that the right word? This depth in the pit of Finn’s stomach, a deep ache that stole the air from his lungs and the passion from his heart. It clawed at his insides, threatening at any moment to break free and spill out into the world, wreaking havoc on the people closest to him.
He likened it to the demons that previously resided there; the ones that came out when he wrestled. The ones that formed his alter ego. The Demon King.
But this was different. Last time it was anger, burning, bubbling rage that spilled over in violent tendencies and some of the best matches of his career. This… this was pain. Aching, scratching, desperate emptiness, a hollowness, a pit in his stomach that dragged him down with each passing day. When he wrestled now, it was a front. He was nothing .
But he’d be damned if Damian didn’t make him feel like everything.
He could feel his lips curving into a smile as his mind replayed memories with Damian at top speed. The way the bigger man cared for him was like no other. He felt important. He felt comforted, cared for. With Damian, he felt safe. He didn’t ever want to lose that again.
Finn looked up at the door in front of him opened. Damian stood there, wearing only boxers, hair tied back in a messy bun. His eyes were tired, but they met Finn’s steadily, looking him over with some mix of concern and knowing. They were kind.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” Finn replied.
Chapter 15: Helmet - Dean Ambrose/Roman Reigns
Summary:
Dean values motorcycles more than his head.
Chapter Text
Dean was $800 poorer without a care in the world. On this chilly night in mid-October, he was now the proud owner of a 1980 Indian Scout Sixty. It was a gorgeous little cruiser motorcycle, vintage but in great condition. A perfect Halloween gift.
For himself, that was.
He climbed onto it and started it up, practically groaning at the sound it made. “Listen to you purr, pretty girl.” He patted the metal in front of him and flipped up the kickstand, driving off into the night.
Wow .
So this was living. He’d never felt like this, and he loved it. The cool fall air whipping through his hair, hitting his face at an almost stinging speed. The sound of the motor under him and the wind in his ears sent him into a sort of euphoria. He felt free .
He couldn’t wait to get home and show Roman.
The seller lived in another town, about a half hour away. It wasn’t dark yet, but growing close - Dean could see the sun just peeking through the trees as it dipped down. He was almost home. Less than five minutes.
He had a green light, an arrow in fact, and he moved to make the turn onto the neighborhood road.
Next thing he knew, he was on the pavement.
His ears were ringing, back slowly aching, and he was vaguely aware of a stinging sensation on the top of his head. Dazed, he reached up to feel through his tangled hair. His fingertips came back red.
“Dean, wake up,” A soft shake of his arm had his eyes rolling back down to his face. He groaned, body becoming acutely aware of the pain it was in as he looked around.
A tall, dark haired Samoan was standing over him. “C’mon, get up-" Roman grabbed his hand and carefully pulled him up, looking him over.
Dean looked around, rubbing his head. There were sirens, an ambulance and a police car. That was the only car in sight, save for Roman’s. His motorcycle - Dean’s insides twisted - his beautiful cruiser was lying mangled in the middle of the road.
“What… happened?” he whispered.
Roman swallowed, glancing back at the scene. “Hit and run… stupid driver blew through a red light. Never stopped. According to the police, anyways... Are you okay?”
He frowned through the daze, trying to make sense of it. “I… yeah. Yeah, I just… fuck . I just got that cruiser.”
The Samoan curled his lip and pulled the dirty blonde into a tight hug. “That guy could’ve killed you.”
“Eight hundred dollars,” Dean groaned into his chest. “I can’t believe it. And I was so excited to show you.”
“I’m just happy you’re safe, Dean,” Roman murmured. “Let’s get you checked out, okay?”
He grunted, pulling away. “I ain’t going to no hospital. Be there an hour and they’ll make eight hundred dollars look like pocket change.”
Roman rolled his eyes and kept his arm around Dean. “At least let them look you over? I see blood.”
Dean glanced at him, sighing after a moment and nodding. “Fine. Then I’m going home so I can find another bike.”
The older man looked at the top of Dean’s head, parting the hair carefully to look at his wound. “I know you won’t be talked out of it, but damn it, Dean, get a helmet next time.”
Dean grumbled and leaned into Roman’s side, walking with him over to the ambulance. “Guess that wouldn’t be the worst idea.”
Chapter 16: Compass - Roman Reigns/Triple H
Summary:
Hunter was Roman Reigns' compass, and he always pointed him home.
Chapter Text
Roman first met Triple H when he joined WWE’s developmental brand, FCW, before it had transformed into NXT. He was intimidating, but reliable.
Roman could see through his tough exterior and see its purpose - this was a tough business. Hunter was preparing them for it, but he was their support system, too. Or at least that’s what Roman saw. He attached to it.
Several of his peers complained constantly about the COO, arguing that he was too difficult and too hands-off. They weren’t learning anything from him, might as well be teaching themselves.
Roman was so far to the opposite side of seeing things that he couldn’t even begin to understand their reasoning. Didn’t they understand, didn’t they see what Hunter was trying to do? He saw it - and Hunter took notice.
From his earliest days on FCW, Roman knew he had someone to fall back on in this company.
Hunter was the reason Roman had gotten to meet Seth and Dean, had gotten to work with them as part of the Shield stable. And after they split, after Seth’s injury where they really, really tried to push Roman - Hunter was there behind the booing crowds.
The first time they booed him, Roman couldn’t believe it. Just last week they’d been cheering him on. Why now? What changed?
“They don’t like you on the mic,” Hunter told him one night, packing up his things. “They can hear how scripted it is. Sounds fake.”
“It is fake,” Roman protested. “What do they want me to do, go off script?”
“Yes.”
“Vince won’t let me.”
“He doesn’t think you have the chops,” Hunter agreed.
“So what am I supposed to do?” he asked.
Hunter sighed, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and shaking his head. “Sell the hell out of what you’ve got. And hang on tight.”
Those few years were miserable. Roman could barely stand it, listening to them every week. It was impossible not to be affected, it was constant.
But Vince wouldn’t let up. Roman was a star, his star. Perfectly crafted, down to word-to-word scripts and segments and matches every single week. Hunter was there for all of it, all the screams and the jeers and the cuts and bruises. Every week - every night - was spent picking up the broken pieces of Roman Reigns and gluing them back together. Healing him, metaphorically, physically, and emotionally. Only to have him thrust back into the spotlight and broken all over again the very next night. But he stayed.
He always, always stayed.
It wasn’t until the Shield reunion that Roman found himself good and truly free from the horrors of the crowd. The reunion had taken forever. Seth had been suffering injuries and Dean was on a different brand. Then Dean hurt his arm. When everything was finally in place, Roman was on top of the world.
This - this was where he belonged. Not at the top, alone, with a world title. But here, with his brothers.
“Your cancer returned. I’m so sorry, Roman.”
Rock bottom again. “You what?” Roman had never seen Hunter so shaken. It scared him. He tried to explain, to tell that this had happened before and he’d beaten it, and Hunter was hugging him before he’d finished.
“Please don’t pity me,” Roman whispered hoarsely. “I don’t want that from you.”
The older man cupped his cheek, looking him over with a firm gaze. A soft smile played across his lips. “Do you really think so little of me?”
Roman teared up and hugged him again.
Announcing to the world that his leukemia had returned was one of the hardest things Roman had ever done, but it was the right choice. The worst part wasn’t the speech, or the silence of the crowd, but the tears in eth’s eyes when he’d come out to meet him.
It made Roman’s heart ache; he knew Seth was desperately trying to hold himself together for him and failing miserably.
When they walked backstage, Hunter was there to give him a bone-crushing hug and a hotel key, slipped into his hand.
Roman stayed with Hunter during those long months. He was there for every treatment, every doctor’s appointment, every bad day. Hell - he was there for every bath, every meal, every damn sleepless night. And he was there, five months later, when the doctor looked up from his clipboard and smiled.
“You’re in remission.”
With tears in his eyes, Roman turned immediately to Hunter, chest heaving as he lost himself in the older man’s arms.
His compass.
His home.
Chapter 17: Salty - Rhea Ripley & Damian Priest
Summary:
Rhea's world is split between two men and she does her best with both of them.
The other side of the coin of "Sour", where it's Damian's turn to be jealous.
Chapter Text
“I’m dead. Pay for my funeral.” Rhea collapsed on the bed, pretending to pass out. She glanced at Damian, one eye open, and grinned.
He snorted. “Too expensive. Pay for it yourself.”
She gasped. “Cruelty! How am I supposed to do that? I’m dead .”
Damian shook his head, heaving a large sigh. “Suppose you’ll just stay here forever, wasting away.” She threw a pillow at him, and he caught it with a chuckle.
A knock sounded on the hotel door; they both glanced up.
“Expecting anyone?” Rhea shook her head as Damian got to his feet. “Bet I know who it is.” He smirked and went over to the door, disappearing behind the wall as it creaked open.
Rhea heard a scoff. She could almost see Damian’s eye roll at the person at the door. “Alright, alright, c’mon.”
She sat up in bed and waited, watching Damian return inside. He was closely followed by a meek looking Dominik Mysterio.
Damian took his seat back on the chair in the corner, picking up his book, and Dominik turned to face Rhea.
“Hey baby,” she said, patting the mattress beside her. “What’s going on?”
He fidgeted, glancing unsurely at Damian before crawling onto the sheets. She opened her arms for him, and he laid down, head resting in her lap.
Rhea stroked his hair. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Couldn’t sleep?”
He slowly shook his head, arms hugging her waist. “Had a nightmare,” he whispered.
Damian made a sound but Rhea ignored him, focusing on Dom. “I’m sorry, baby. Was it bad?”
He gave a jerky nod, hold tightening.
“Alright, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” She continued stroking his hair, running her fingers through it with a hum. “You can stay right here for however long you need.”
He shifted, peeking up at her with large eyes. “C-Could… Can I stay the night?”
Rhea blinked, surprised, then cupped his face and smiled. “Of course you can, darling.” She could see the relief flood into his face, and her heart twisted. “I’m right here,” she murmured, rubbing his cheek. “Let’s get some rest, hm?”
Dom’s eyes fluttered. He gave a soft nod and settled back down in her arms. He was out in minutes.
“Maybe he can pay for your funeral,” Damian said, breaking the long silence that had signaled the younger male’s sleep.
Rhea glanced down at him to check, but he didn’t move. He was out. She huffed. “Alright, what’s your problem?”
“My problem? I don’t have a problem.” Damian flipped a page in his book absentmindedly.
A lightbulb went off in Rhea’s head. A wide grin spread over her lips. “You’re jealous.”
Damian outright laughed at that. “Jealous? Of what?”
Rhea raised a brow, glancing down at the younger male in her lap.
“You gotta be joking. You think I’m jealous of him?”
“Are you?” She asked, still grinning.
“No,” Damian said firmly, setting his book aside. “He just seems to be taking up a lot of your time.”
“Mmm… time away from you?”
“Just time,” he repeated, looking away. “He’s high maintenance.” He glanced back at Rhea, curling his lip at her expression. “What?”
Rhea carefully slid out from under Dom’s head, rubbing his back for a moment before standing. She came over to Damian and kissed his forehead. “My boys… so possessive.”
“C’mon,” Damian grunted, but he didn’t deny it.
“Y’know… he had a similar grievance with you just the other day.” She sat on the edge of the armchair, leaning in Damian’s side. “He thought you were trying to steal me away.”
“Hey, I was here first. I’m not the one stealing anything. Besides, I don’t see you like that. And F-”
Damian cut himself off, but Rhea smiled knowingly, closing her eyes. “I know about Finn. I’ve got a pair of eyes.” She shifted to look up at him. “You know you’re not gonna lose me right? You’re stuck with me.”
He grunted and glanced down at her. “Good. You’re my best friend, got that? I put a lot of time into this relationship.”
“Mhm, me too. But,” she added, nudging him teasingly, “I’m not gonna stop what I have with Dom just because you’re salty.”
“I’m not-” He began to protest before seeing her smile. “Alright, alright, I get it.”
She leaned up to peck his cheek. “He needs me. And I like what I’ve got with him. I love what I’ve got with you. You’re both my boys, and I ain’t picking favorites.”
Damian wrapped his arms around her in a hug, leaning his head back on the chair. “Not even if I pay for your funeral?”
Rhea laughed at that, leaning back into his chest and closing her eyes. “Love you, Damian.”
His hold remained protectively around her. “Love you too, Rips.”
Chapter 18: Scrape - Cody Rhodes/Seth Rollins
Summary:
After Hell in a Cell, Seth confronts Cody about his intentions.
Chapter Text
The second they were backstage, Seth whirled around to Cody, eyes flashing. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.
Cody swallowed the lump in his throat, gently cradling his side. “I wanted to fight.”
“Are you kidding me? Look at yourself!” Seth snapped.
“It’s just a scrape,” he protested, wincing.
“Just a scrape?”
The crowd was hot. They were on freaking fire. This main event was highly anticipated; it’d had a great buildup, and even Seth was pumped for it.
When he heard Cody had injured himself, he was disappointed, but he pushed his own emotions to the side to help the other. And then Cody said he still wanted to fight.
Damn.
Seth’s respect for Cody - and perhaps something else as well - lit a fire in his stomach. He found himself even more excited for their match. He stood in that ring, watching Cody stride toward the cell, watching him grin at the crowd and soak it all in. His heart twisted at the sight.
Seth was thrilled Cody had returned, was even more thrilled at how over he was with the crowd. But he knew the blonde would most likely need a few weeks off to rest up and repair.
Cody climbed into the ring, the cell was locked, and his gaze went cold, slipping into his character as he stared at Seth. He undid his robe and let it fall from his shoulders, and the wound Seth saw made him lose his own character momentarily.
You could hear a pin drop in the crowd. They saw it too - a mess of red and dark purple bruises that covered Cody’s chest and pec and upper arm, and in that moment Seth realized that Cody had lied to him, to everyone , about just how severe this injury really was.
He quickly recovered - they had a show to put on - and fell back into his role, laughing knowingly about his opponent’s clear disadvantage. But as the bell rang, as Cody charged him and was quickly put down, as the crowd’s roar rang in his ears, Seth only felt sick.
Cody seemed taken aback by Seth’s response. “It was the main event. I didn’t want to let everyone down. Didn’t we have a good match?”
Seth stared at him incredulously. “Didn’t we - that’s not the point, Rhodes! You just got back here and you’re already injured. You should be home resting, not wrestling and making it worse!”
Cody raised a brow. “Well that’s a little hypocritical. Think I remember a certain Wrestlemania match where your knee was definitely not healed. Not to mention you had the flu.” Seth flashed back to his 2017 match with Hunter; great though it was, it had been hellish to go through. Before he could retort, Cody continued, “I was going to need surgery anyway, Seth. I wanted to go out with a bang, not let everyone down.”
Seth was silent for a moment. It was hard to argue; like Cody had said, anything Seth fought against would be rather like the pot calling the kettle black. “I’m just worried you hurt yourself worse,” he said finally.
Cody smiled slightly, taking a step closer. “Funny, that’s what I always used to say to you.”
Seth couldn’t help but grin. “I’ve really missed you,” he admitted.
“I’ve missed you too,” Cody said softly.
He sighed, looking him over. “At least let me help you out? While you’re recovering?”
Cody dipped his head. “I could be okay with that,” he chuckled softly.
Seth smiled and nodded to the locker rooms, starting to walk with him. “And Rhodes?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t ever lie to me about an injury again.”
The blond glanced at him, seeing the seriousness in his gaze, and nodded. “I won’t.”
Chapter 19: Ponytail
Summary:
Seth figured the ponytail would be a good look on him. He figured it would get the job done.
It got several jobs done.
Chapter Text
There was something about a ponytail that Seth just liked. He didn’t know what. He looked good in it, of course, but he looked good in everything, especially thanks to his stylist. He just found the idea intriguing, something new. He’d never tried it before. Buns, yes, and he wore his hair down all the time for matches and promos these days.
But this seemed exciting.
In a match meant to imitate the style of “real” fighting, as Riddle so eloquently put it, Seth figured the ponytail would be a good look for him. Something simple, sleek, and practical. It would keep his hair out of his face as he beat Riddle to a pulp. That sort of thing. He figured it would get the job done.
What he hadn’t figured was how sexy a certain Samoan superstar would think it was. He certainly hadn’t figured, above all else, that he would be pinned to the wall of the hotel room getting his ass drilled by the Undisputed WWE Champion.
Things happen.
When they’d finished, Roman was exceedingly gentle with Seth, brushing the hair from his face and looking him over. It’d been years since they went at it, and their relationship had looked different to say the least. Seth knew the drill.
“Mm fine, Ro. Don’t need anything.”
He looked unconvinced, continuing to stroke his cheek and stay close.
“Promise, I’m fine.” Seth pushed himself into a sitting position, shaking his head to clear it. “Hot damn, sure made me acknowledge the Tribal Chief.”
Roman snorted, face drenched in sweat. “Shower?”
Seth, spent and covered in sweat and… other things, nodded in reply.
The Samoan picked him up and took him into the bathroom, turning on the hot water. He laid his head on Roman’s shoulder and slowly closed his eyes.
“So… the ponytail is a yes?”
Roman grunted, keeping a firm hold on him as he waited for the temperature to get just right. “Think that goes without saying, don’t you?”
He let out a breathy chuckle. “Just making sure. Gonna have to start wearing it up more often.”
The older male raised a brow. “I’m warning you now, it’ll end the same way.”
“And you think that’s gonna dissuade me? Hell, Reigns, I’ll tie my hair back right now.”
Roman grinned. “Your funeral. Do me a favor though and actually tie it next time. Damn thing fell out five minutes in, haven’t been so frustrated since the Shield days.”
“You’re just mad you couldn’t keep jacking off to it,” Seth teased, but Roman didn’t deny it, and he blushed. “Fine. I’ll make it tighter next time.”
The Samoan champion smirked, stepping into the shower and letting the warm water hit them both. “Ah… that’s what he said.”
SweetScorpio on Chapter 14 Mon 23 Jan 2023 03:12PM UTC
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