Issy Writes WWE

Huge thank you to @southerngirl41 for sending me instructions on how to make a Master list.

Unlikely love

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Pt1

Pt 2

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Expect the unexpected -

Part 1

Part 2

Love you from dusk till dawn

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Miniseries.

The bloodline affair-

Part 1: Roman and Alyssa - The beginning.

Part 2: Jey and Alyssa - His Comforter.

Part 3: Jimmy and Alyssa - His Peace.

Part 4: Solo and Alyssa - His Angel.

Part 5: Alyssa and the Bloodline - The Confessions.

Part 6 : Alyssa and the Bloodline - The aftermath.

Deadly Secrets-

Part 1

Part 2

Finale

One- shots

Cody Rhodes -

There for you

If you were mine?

The man who cared

The man who cared 2

The man who cared 3

CM Punk -

The Handyman

The Handyman 2

Damien Priest -

Truth or dare?

Baby shower surprise.

Jey Uso-

My Beloved

Loving you was complicated.

Loving you was complicated 2

Is there life out there?

Is there life out there? 2

Heal your broken champions heart.

Submission.

Beauty isn't skin deep.

JHEA -

Comfort and care

Cody and Jey-

An unconventional love story.

Jimmy USO -

professor professor

Professor professor finale

A rouge is my mate?

Healing through art

Dads' best friend

The USOS -

The boss's wife Part 1

The boss's wife part 2

Who Do You Love? Part 1

Jacob Fatu -

My friends a ...

My friends a.... Part 2.

Safe Haven

Safe Haven Part 2

Missing you

Zilla Fatu -

My sister's boyfriend 1

My sister's boyfriend 2

Roman Reigns-

Save me

Solo Sikoa -

I will always protect you.

Forbidden attraction.

Forbidden attraction 2

It's a girl

Your husband wont love you but I will.

Sami Zayn-

My love.

Tonga Loa-

The queens forbidden love

The Queens forbidden love Part 2

Tama Tonga -

Babysitter love

An unlikely pair.

The single dad's nanny.

The Tongan's-

Dear Diary

Tala Tonga-

Our love has no bounds.

Our love has no bounds 2

My exes daddy.

My exes daddy 2

Pair: Liv Morgan X Roman reigns 

Plot :Fresh off her shocking Money in the Bank win and first night as champion, Liv Morgan is still overwhelmed by the reality of holding the SmackDown Women’s Title. Backstage in Fort Worth, a chance encounter with Roman Reigns leads to an unexpected moment of calm, support, and connection. What begins as a nervous champion seeking reassurance becomes the quiet spark of something neither of them planned — a bond that starts with one conversation and grows into something deeper. 

I wrote this one‑shot with “First Times” by Ed Sheeran playing in the background — a song that feels soft, steady, and perfect for a moment that ends up meaning more than anyone expects.

This story came from wanting to explore the quiet side of Liv’s first night as champion in Fort Worth — the nerves, the adrenaline, and the unexpected comfort she finds in someone she never imagined would be the one to calm her down.

It’s a small moment, a simple conversation, but sometimes that’s exactly where the biggest things begin. 🥺💕😊❤️

This was a request by @uconnlover5 I hope you enjoy 😊

MITB  July 2nd 2022 Las Vegas Nevada 

The arena was chaos — ladders crashing, bodies flying, screams echoing off the rafters. Liv Morgan’s ribs ached, her knee throbbed, her breath came in sharp bursts, but she kept moving. She had to. She’d been “almost” too many times. Tonight couldn’t be another almost.

She climbed.

Becky Lynch was already halfway up the taller ladder beside her, fingertips brushing the briefcase. Liv’s heart lurched — she couldn’t let Becky take this moment. Not again. Not after everything.

Liv reached out, grabbed the side of Becky’s ladder, and shoved.

Becky’s eyes widened as her ladder tipped. She scrambled, trying to steady herself, but Liv didn’t hesitate. She kicked — hard — catching Becky in the chest.

Becky fell.

The crowd exploded.

Liv climbed faster, hands shaking, lungs burning. She reached the top, reached out, and for one terrifying second she thought she wouldn’t get it — that someone would pull her down, that she’d slip, that she’d fail again.

But her fingers closed around the briefcase.

And she unhooked it.

The bell rang.

Liv Morgan had done it.

She was Miss Money in the Bank.

Backstage, Roman Reigns watched the monitor with a rare flicker of interest. He didn’t smile — he didn’t react much at all — but something in his expression shifted. Respect. Recognition. Acknowledgment.

Someone else had climbed their mountain tonight.

2 hours later 

Ronda was hurt. Everyone could see it — the limp, the grimace, the way she clutched her knee. Natalya had pushed her to the limit, and Liv knew this was her moment.

She sprinted down the ramp, briefcase in hand, adrenaline drowning out every doubt she’d ever had.

The crowd lost their minds.

Liv slid into the ring, handed over the contract, and the bell rang.

Ronda tried to fight, tried to lock in a submission, tried to muscle through the pain — but Liv countered, rolled her up, hooked the leg, and prayed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Liv Morgan was the SmackDown Women’s Champion.

She collapsed to her knees, overwhelmed, emotional, clutching the title she’d dreamed about since she was a kid. The crowd roared. The lights flashed. Her music hit. Everything felt unreal.

Backstage, Roman watched again — this time with a deeper, more thoughtful expression. Champions recognized champions. And Liv Morgan had just earned her place.

Friday Night Smackdown - July 8th Fort Worth Texas 

Liv walked into Dickies Arena with the SmackDown Women’s Championship resting on her shoulder, fingers curled tight around the strap like she was afraid it might disappear if she let go. Every few steps she glanced down at it, still not fully believing it was real.

She was the champion.

She actually did it.

And yet… it still felt like a dream she hadn’t woken up from.

She turned a corner backstage, distracted, staring at the gold again—

—and bumped straight into someone.

Hard.

Liv stumbled back. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Then she looked up.

Roman Reigns stood in front of her, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. Not mocking — amused. Warm. Surprised.

Liv froze.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

Her grip tightened on the title.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t looking— I’m sorry—”

Roman let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“Liv,” he said, voice calm, deep, easy. “Relax. Seriously.”

She swallowed, cheeks burning. “I just— I didn’t expect— you were right there and—”

Roman laughed again, softer this time.

“You know how the Bloodline rolls IRL,” he said, tapping his chest lightly. “We’re chill. Totally not evil like on TV.”

Liv blinked, then let out a tiny, nervous laugh of her own.

Roman nodded toward the title on her shoulder. “Looks good on you.”

Her breath caught. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “You earned it.”

Liv didn’t know what to say. She just stood there, clutching the championship, feeling her nerves melt into something warm and steady. Roman wasn’t intimidating here. He wasn’t the Tribal Chief. He wasn’t the guy who ran the entire company.

He was just… Roman.

And he was being kind.

“Welcome to the champion’s side of the building,” he added with a small grin. “You belong here.”

Liv’s heart fluttered.

And for the first time since she won the title, she actually believed it.

Liv shifted the title on her shoulder, still buzzing from bumping into him, still trying to calm her heartbeat. Roman noticed immediately — the way her fingers fidgeted with the side plate, the way she kept glancing toward gorilla like she was walking into a storm.

“You good?” Roman asked, voice low and steady.

Liv hesitated. “I’m… nervous.”

Roman tilted his head. “About what?”

“My first promo as champion,” she admitted. “I don’t wanna mess it up. I don’t wanna sound stupid. I don’t wanna—” She stopped herself, cheeks warm. “I just don’t wanna let anyone down.”

Roman let out a soft laugh — not mocking, just understanding.

“Liv,” he said, stepping a little closer, “you already did the hard part.”

She blinked. “Winning?”

“No,” Roman corrected gently. “Believing you could.”

Liv’s breath caught.

Roman nodded toward the curtain. “A promo? That’s nothing. You walk out there, you hold that title, and you talk like the person who earned it. Not the person who’s scared she didn’t.”

Liv swallowed. “But what if I freeze?”

Roman shrugged. “Then you smile. Crowd loves you. They’ll carry you through it.”

She let out a tiny laugh. “You make it sound easy.”

Roman smirked. “It is. You’re thinking too much. Don’t perform. Just talk. Be Liv. That’s what got you here.”

Liv looked down at the title again — but this time, she wasn’t clutching it out of fear. She was holding it like she deserved it.

Roman tapped the center plate lightly. “Champions don’t wait to feel ready. They walk out and make everyone believe they are.”

Liv’s eyes softened. “Thank you.”

Roman gave her a small nod. “Anytime. And hey—”

She looked up.

“Bloodline IRL?” He grinned. “We hype people up. Go kill it.”

Liv smiled — a real one — and for the first time all day, she felt ready.

Liv stood just behind the curtain, clutching the SmackDown Women’s Championship so tightly her knuckles turned white. The crowd was loud — louder than she expected — chanting her name, buzzing with excitement, waiting for her.

Roman’s words echoed in her head.

“Don’t perform. Just talk. Be Liv.”

She took a breath.

The music hit.

Liv stepped through the curtain, and the arena erupted. She blinked, overwhelmed, but she forced herself to smile — a real one — and lifted the title high. The crowd got even louder.

She walked to the ring, heart pounding, nerves buzzing, but Roman was right: the fans carried her.

Liv raised the mic, trying to steady her voice—

But Natalya’s music hit.

The crowd booed instantly.

Natalya marched down the ramp, smirking, pointing at Liv’s title like she was the one who deserved it. She climbed into the ring and got right in Liv’s face, talking over her, dismissing her, claiming Liv only won because she “picked the bones” after Natalya softened Ronda up.

Liv’s stomach twisted — the nerves came back hard — but she held her ground.

Then Ronda’s music hit.

The arena flipped. Cheers, shock, noise everywhere.

Ronda limped down the ramp, knee wrapped, eyes locked on Natalya. She didn’t look angry — she looked focused. Dangerous. She stepped into the ring, and suddenly Liv was standing between two women who wanted to tear each other apart.

Natalya shoved Ronda.

Ronda shoved back.

Natalya swung first.

Ronda tackled her.

Liv didn’t think — she reacted. She grabbed Natalya by the arm and yanked her out of the ring, sending her tumbling to the floor. The crowd roared. Liv’s chest heaved, adrenaline surging.

Ronda looked at her — not angry, not annoyed — just… acknowledging her.

Liv swallowed hard.

This was her first night as champion.

And she was already in the middle of a storm.

Roman watched the whole thing from a monitor backstage, arms crossed, expression unreadable. When Liv pulled Natalya out of the ring, his eyebrow lifted — impressed.

“She handled it,” he murmured.

Jimmy and Jey glanced over.

“She’s got fire,” Jey said.

Roman nodded once. “She’s got heart.”

He didn’t say anything else, but the look on his face said enough.

He was proud of her.

Liv stepped through the curtain, adrenaline still buzzing in her veins, the SmackDown Women’s Championship clutched against her chest. She was breathless, overwhelmed, still processing everything that had just happened in the ring.

Before she could take another step, Roman was already there.

He didn’t say anything at first — just gave her that calm, steady look that made her feel like the room wasn’t spinning anymore.

Then he nodded once.

“You did great.”

Liv blinked, surprised. “Really? I… I felt like everything was happening so fast.”

Roman smirked. “That’s how you know you handled it. You didn’t freeze. You didn’t panic. You reacted. That’s what champions do.”

Liv felt her chest warm. “Thank you. For earlier. For the advice.”

Roman shrugged like it was nothing. “You listened. That’s why it worked.”

She smiled — small, soft, grateful.

Roman gestured down the hallway. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Liv’s heart skipped. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said, already starting toward the exit. “But I want to.”

Liv followed beside him, the title still on her shoulder, the Fort Worth crowd still roaring faintly behind them. Roman didn’t say much — he didn’t need to. His presence alone made her feel grounded, steady, safe.

They reached the parking lot, the warm Texas night settling around them. Liv stopped beside her rental car, turning to face him.

“Roman… seriously. Thank you. For everything tonight.”

He gave her that soft, knowing smile — the one that wasn’t the Tribal Chief, wasn’t the character, wasn’t the champion. Just him.

“Anytime, Liv.”

She opened her car door, hesitated, then looked back at him one more time.

Roman tapped the roof lightly. “Go get some rest, champ.”

Liv nodded, slipped inside, and closed the door — still smiling.

Roman watched her drive off, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable but warm.

Neither of them knew it yet, but that quiet night in Fort Worth — a walk to a rental car, a few honest words, a shared breath of calm — would be the beginning of something real.

Something steady.

Something strong enough to change both their lives.

The End

TAGLIST

Pair: Jevon Evans X Sol Ruca

Plot: After losing her title in a heartbreaking match, Sol Ruca struggles with doubt, disappointment, and the pressure of the main roster spotlight. Je’Von Evans refuses to let her face it alone — guiding her through the aftermath with quiet support, unexpected surprises, and the reminder that her worth isn’t defined by a championship. Surrounded by love from Je’Von and her NXT sisters, Sol learns that even without the gold, she’s still a champion to the people who matter most. 

I wrote You’re Still My Champion with “Tenerife Sea” by Ed Sheeran playing in the background — the soft, steady kind of love that feels like someone holding you together when everything else falls apart.

This idea came straight from Sol’s loss last night. I’m still upset about how it happened and how she never got the chance to defend the belt the way she deserved. She fought so hard for that championship, and it hurts seeing her robbed like that on RAW.

So this one‑shot is for every Sol Ruca fan who felt that same sting — who knows she’s still a champion even without the gold.

Thank you for reading, and I hope this brings you a little comfort too.🥺❤️😊💕

Sol stood just behind the curtain, arms crossed tight over her chest, eyes locked on the monitor. The arena lights flashed across Je’Von’s face as he squared up with Rusev, and every impact made her flinch like she was the one taking the hit.

She should’ve been warming up for her match later.

She should’ve been stretching, breathing, focusing.

But she couldn’t look away.

Rusev slammed Je’Von into the barricade and Sol’s jaw clenched. “Come on, baby… get up.”

The crew member beside her glanced over, but didn’t say anything. Everyone knew how she got during Je’Von’s matches — laser‑focused, protective, tense.

Je’Von flew over the barricade, crashing into Rusev, and Sol’s heart jumped. “That’s it. That’s it.”

Then Rusev caught him mid‑air and slung him into the timekeeper’s area.

Sol’s stomach dropped.

She took a step forward like she could run out there and help him.

“Don’t you dare,” she muttered at the screen. “Don’t let him lock it in.”

But Rusev did.

The Acolade.

Deep.

Sol’s breath caught. She knew that look in Je’Von’s eyes — the panic, the pain, the fight. She’d seen him tap to that move before. She’d held him afterward, ice packs and quiet words, trying to keep him from spiraling.

“Come on, Je’Von… come on…”

He fought.

He clawed.

He reached the rope.

Sol exhaled so sharply she had to put a hand on the wall to steady herself.

Then Je’Von hit the Matrix dodge — the stunner — the top rope OG counter.

One.

Two.

Three.

Sol didn’t cheer.

She didn’t jump.

She didn’t smile.

She just closed her eyes for a moment, letting the relief wash over her.

He won.

He was okay.

He was safe.

But her chest still felt tight.

Because she knew what was coming for her later.

She knew Raquel.

She knew Judgment Day.

She knew how dirty they played.

And watching Je’Von fight through hell only made her more aware of how alone she might be out there tonight.

Sol opened her eyes, staring at the monitor as Je’Von celebrated.

“Good job, baby,” she whispered.

But her hands were still shaking.

Sol barely had time to step away from the monitor before Je’Von came barreling through the curtain, sweat still on his forehead, grin stretched ear to ear.

“BABY!!”

Before she could react, Je’Von scooped her up by the waist and twirled her in a full circle.

Sol squealed — loud, unfiltered, the kind she only ever made around him. “Jevon! Put me down, you goof!”

He laughed, spinning her once more just to hear her squeal again. “I won! You saw that, right? You saw me cook Rusev?!”

“Put me down!” she said, swatting his shoulder. “You’re gonna drop me before my match!”

He set her down gently, hands lingering at her waist for a second longer than necessary. Sol smoothed her gear, trying to hide the way her heart was racing — not from the twirl, but from everything she was carrying.

Jevon’s smile softened.

He saw it immediately.

“Hey,” he said quietly, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “You’re tense.”

Sol tried to shrug it off. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

Jevon didn’t buy it.

He leaned in and pressed a small, soft kiss to her lips — quick, grounding, the kind that made her shoulders drop just a little.

“Baby,” he murmured, forehead resting against hers, “you got this.”

Sol swallowed hard. “Jev—”

“You beat Raquel once,” he said, voice steady, warm, certain. “You can do it again.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, and for a moment, the noise of backstage faded. It was just him. His hands on her arms. His breath steady. His confidence wrapping around her like armor.

“You’re Sol Ruca,” he whispered. “You don’t back down from anybody.”

Sol exhaled, tension easing from her chest. “I needed that.”

“I know,” Je’Von said, giving her a gentle squeeze. “And I’m right here.”

Sol nodded, finally letting herself breathe.

Sol’s fingers curled lightly into Je’Von’s shirt, her breath uneven. She didn’t want to say it — she hated admitting weakness — but the words slipped out anyway.

“Jev… I’m nervous.”

He didn’t tease her.

He didn’t smirk.

He didn’t brush it off.

He just cupped her cheek, thumb stroking gently. “I know, baby.”

Sol swallowed. “Raquel’s strong. And Judgment Day… they’re gonna try something. I can feel it.”

Je’Von leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips — quick, warm, grounding. “Listen to me.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

“I’ll be in gorilla,” he said, voice low and steady. “The whole time. I’m not leaving. I’m not walking away. I’ll be right there watching you.”

Sol’s shoulders dropped, tension easing just a little.

“You beat Raquel once,” Je’Von continued. “You can do it again. You’re Sol Ruca. You don’t fold.”

Her breath steadied. “You promise you’ll be there?”

Jevon nodded. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

Before she could respond—

Her entrance music hit.

The speakers backstage rattled, the crowd roaring on the other side of the curtain. Sol jumped slightly, adrenaline flooding her system.

Je’Von squeezed her hand. “Go show them who you are.”

Sol nodded, pulling herself together, rolling her shoulders back. She stepped through the curtain, the lights hitting her instantly. The crowd erupted as she walked down the ramp, title over her shoulder, confidence building with every step.

She climbed into the ring, lifting the belt high.

The camera zoomed in on her face — determined, focused, ready.

And just as the show cut to commercial, Je’Von stood at gorilla, watching her with pride written all over him.

Sol stood in the ring with her title held high, the crowd roaring around her. She tried to breathe, tried to steady her hands, tried to remember Je’Von’s voice telling her he’d be right there in gorilla watching her. She wasn’t alone. She kept repeating that to herself.

The bell rang.

Raquel came out swinging, but Sol was faster — climbing the ropes, flipping through the air, crashing down with a moonsault that sent Raquel stumbling. The crowd erupted. Sol felt a spark of confidence.

Uppercut.

Reversal.

Leap over the ropes — land on her feet.

Raquel didn’t see it.

Sol swept her legs, elbow to the neck, dropkick to the spine. Raquel’s nose was already busted from earlier, and Sol didn’t hesitate — she targeted it again, forcing Raquel to clutch her face.

The crowd was behind her.

She could feel it.

She could feel Je’Von’s pride from backstage.

Sol hit a running knee that folded Raquel in half. She covered, hooking the leg, praying it was enough.

It wasn’t.

Raquel kicked out.

Sol slapped the mat, frustration boiling. She could feel the nerves creeping back in — the fear, the pressure, the weight of the title on her shoulders.

And then Judgment Day arrived.

Roxanne Perez walked down the ramp, smirking, calling out to Sol. Sol’s stomach dropped. She took her eyes off Raquel for half a second — and Raquel grabbed her from behind, squeezing tight around her waist.

Before Sol could break free, Liv Morgan sprinted down the ramp, yelling at Iyo Sky — Sol’s backup — who had just arrived. Chaos exploded around the ring. Barricades. Ring posts. Apron brawls. Sol tried to stay focused, but it was too much happening at once.

She caught Raquel with a Codebreaker — the crowd roared — hope sparked again.

But Liv and Iyo were still fighting on the apron.

Perez climbed up again.

Sol’s head whipped between all three.

She couldn’t keep track.

Sol went for the Sol Snatcher — her finisher — but Perez grabbed her ankle from the outside. Sol stumbled. Raquel caught her instantly.

Sol’s heart dropped.

Raquel lifted her.

Tejana Bomb.

Impact.

Lights.

Noise.

Pain.

Sol felt the world tilt as Raquel stacked her up for the pin. She tried to kick out — she really did — but her body wouldn’t respond.

The ref’s hand hit the mat.

Three.

The bell rang.

Raquel held the title.

Judgment Day celebrated.

The crowd booed.

Sol lay on the mat, staring up at the lights, chest tight, throat burning, everything inside her collapsing. She lost her title. She lost everything she fought for.

And she knew Je’Von had watched every second.

Sol walked backstage slowly, every step heavier than the last. The noise of the arena faded behind her, replaced by the low hum of production equipment and the distant chatter of crew members. But she didn’t hear any of it. Her ears were ringing. Her chest felt tight. Her title was gone.

And Je’Von was waiting for her.

He stood in a quiet corner, away from everyone, hands clasped in front of him, eyes locked on the hallway she’d walk through. The second he saw her, his expression broke — all worry, all softness, all love.

“Sol…” he whispered.

She didn’t make it two steps before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. Sol melted into the hug instantly, burying her face in his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like she needed him to stay upright.

Her voice came out small, cracked, barely audible.

“I didn’t tell you…” she whispered. “I knew I was gonna lose it.”

Je’Von’s arms tightened around her, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head.

“Baby…”

Sol swallowed hard, breath shaking. “I just… I just wish I got to defend it more.”

Je’Von rested his cheek against her hair, holding her like she was something fragile and precious.

“You should’ve,” he murmured. “You earned that. You deserved that. And what they did out there wasn’t on you.”

Sol’s shoulders trembled, but she didn’t cry. She just held onto him, letting herself be small for a moment, letting herself feel the hurt she’d been trying to swallow.

Je’Von didn’t rush her.

Didn’t tell her to shake it off.

Didn’t tell her to be strong.

He just held her.

“You didn’t lose because you weren’t good enough,” he whispered. “You lost because they cheated. And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sol breathed out slowly, her forehead pressed to his chest.

For the first time since the bell rang, she didn’t feel alone.

Sol didn’t even make it ten steps down the hallway before her chest tightened and her eyes burned. Je’Von didn’t say a word — he just reached out, gently grabbed her hand, then scooped up her gear bag with his other hand like it weighed nothing. He guided her toward the exit, away from the noise, away from the crew, away from the cameras.

She tried to hold it together.

She really did.

But halfway to the parking lot, her breath hitched.

Then another.

Then she broke.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just a soft, painful crack in her voice as she whispered, “Jev…”

He stopped immediately, turning to face her. “I’m right here.”

Sol shook her head, tears finally slipping free. “Why does it feel like… like main roster titles don’t get defended as much? I don’t get it.”

Je’Von stepped closer, hands on her shoulders, grounding her. She wasn’t sobbing — she was hurting. Deeply.

“You remember when I was NXT North American champ?” she said, voice trembling. “I defended it every week. Every single week. I fought for it. I earned it. I… I don’t understand why it’s not the same here.”

Her voice cracked again.

This time she didn’t try to hide it.

“I just wanted to be a fighting champion,” she whispered. “I wanted to prove I deserved it.”

Je’Von pulled her into his chest, one arm around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. She clung to him, fingers gripping his shirt like she needed him to keep her from falling apart completely.

“Baby,” he murmured, voice low and steady, “none of that is your fault.”

Sol pressed her forehead into him, tears soaking into his shirt. “I barely got to defend it. And now it’s gone.”

Je’Von kissed the top of her head, slow and soft. “You didn’t lose because you weren’t a fighting champion. You lost because they cheated. And because this place plays politics with titles way more than NXT ever did.”

Sol sniffed, shoulders shaking. “I hate it.”

“I know,” Je’Von whispered. “But listen to me — you didn’t fail. You didn’t drop the ball. You didn’t let anyone down.”

He tilted her chin up gently so she’d look at him.

“You were a better champion than half the people holding belts right now.”

Sol’s breath caught.

“And you’re gonna get another one,” he said. “I promise you.”

She leaned into him again, letting herself cry quietly as he held her, guiding her toward the car, toward the hotel, toward somewhere she could finally breathe.

“Come on,” Je’Von whispered. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

The hotel room door clicked shut behind them, and Sol didn’t say a word. She just walked straight to the bathroom, shoulders slumped, eyes tired, heartbreak written all over her face.

“Take a shower,” Je’Von said softly. “I’ll be right here.”

Sol nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

The water turned on a moment later, the sound echoing through the quiet room. Je’Von waited until he heard the shower curtain slide closed… then he grabbed her phone off the nightstand.

He didn’t hesitate.

He opened her contacts.

Zaria.

Kelani.

Izzi.

Lola.

Her girls.

Her NXT family.

The ones who loved her before the main roster politics, before the chaos, before Judgment Day stole her joy.

He called Zaria first.

“Hey,” he whispered. “It’s Je’Von. Sol lost the title tonight. She’s hurting bad. Can you get to LA tomorrow morning?”

Zaria didn’t even pause. “Say less. I’m coming.”

Kelani answered on the first ring. “Is she okay?”

“No,” Je’Von admitted. “She’s trying to be. I want her to have you guys here.”

“We’ll be there,” Kelani said immediately.

Izzi and Lola said the same — no hesitation, no questions, just love.

Je’Von coordinated everything quickly, quietly, making sure they all knew the hotel, the time, the plan. He wanted Sol to wake up surrounded by the people who made her feel strong.

The water shut off.

Je’Von hung up instantly, tossed her phone back onto the nightstand, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV like he’d been watching the whole time.

He leaned back against the headboard, casual, relaxed, pretending nothing had happened.

Sol stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, eyes tired, wrapped in a towel. Je’Von looked up from the TV, giving her a soft smile — the kind that made her chest loosen just a little.

Her gaze drifted to his open duffel bag.

“Can I…?” she asked quietly.

Je’Von already knew. “Baby, you don’t have to ask.”

Sol grabbed his hoodie — the big black one she always stole — and pulled it on over her towel. It swallowed her completely, sleeves past her hands, hood falling over her eyes. She tugged it close, breathing in the familiar scent, letting it calm her.

She climbed onto the bed beside him, curling into his side. Je’Von wrapped an arm around her shoulders, thumb brushing her arm in slow circles. Sol’s breathing softened, her body relaxing for the first time all night.

Within minutes, she was asleep on his chest — small, quiet, safe.

Je’Von didn’t move.

Didn’t shift.

Didn’t even change the channel.

He just held her.

Morning light slipped through the curtains. Sol stirred, blinking slowly, still wrapped in Je’Von’s hoodie, still tucked against him. He brushed a hand over her hair.

“Baby,” he whispered, voice warm. “Turn around.”

Sol frowned sleepily. “What…?”

She turned.

And froze.

Zaria.

Kelani.

Izzi.

Lola.

All standing in the hotel room, smiling at her, arms open, eyes full of love.

Sol’s breath caught. Her hand flew to her mouth. “What—? How—?”

Je’Von squeezed her waist gently. “They came for you.”

Sol’s eyes filled instantly — not with heartbreak this time, but with something soft, overwhelming, healing.

Her girls rushed forward, wrapping her in a massive group hug, talking over each other, telling her they loved her, that she didn’t deserve what happened, that she wasn’t alone.

Sol looked back at Je’Von through the tangle of arms.

He just smiled.

And she knew.

He planned all of it.

Sol was still wrapped in Je’Von’s hoodie, sleeves past her hands, hair messy from sleep, eyes still a little puffy — but she looked lighter. Softer. Safe.

Her girls were buzzing around her, hugging her, hyping her up, telling her she didn’t deserve what happened and that they were proud of her no matter what. Sol laughed — actually laughed — for the first time since she lost the title.

Zaria nudged her. “Come on, we’re taking you to breakfast. You need pancakes and girl talk.”

Kelani grabbed her hand. “And we’re not letting you pay for anything.”

Izzi added, “And we’re ordering mimosas.”

Lola smirked. “And we’re dragging you out even if you try to hide in Je’Von’s hoodie all day.”

Sol rolled her eyes, smiling. “You guys are ridiculous.”

They started heading toward the door, but Sol paused. She turned back toward Je’Von, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with that soft, proud look he only ever gave her.

She walked up to him slowly.

The girls noticed — and immediately pretended not to notice.

Sol reached up, grabbed the front of Je’Von’s shirt, and tugged him down just a little. She stood on her toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips — soft, grateful, lingering just long enough to say everything she couldn’t put into words.

When she pulled back, her voice was quiet.

“Thank you.”

Je’Von brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Always.”

Sol smiled — a real one, warm and bright — then turned to join her girls.

As she walked out the door with them, laughing, Je’Von watched her go with that same proud, steady look.

She wasn’t alone.

She wasn’t broken.

She wasn’t defeated.

She was loved.

And she was going to be okay.

The End

TAGLIST

Pair: Bayley X Finn Balor 

Plot: In the aftermath of an unexpectedly intimate morning, Bayley and Finn each find themselves wrestling with feelings they’ve tried to ignore. Bayley’s embarrassment gives way to a deeper confusion, leading her to confront emotions she’s never dared to name. Finn, meanwhile, is forced to revisit a moment from years earlier that still lingers in the back of his mind. As both of them navigate dreams, memories, and the quiet spaces between their words, Part Two deepens the connection that neither of them is ready to admit — and sets the stage for the choices they’ll have to make next. 

Part Two turned into a quiet, emotional chapter about everything Bayley and Finn won’t say out loud yet. I wrote it with “Slow It Down” by The Lumineers playing, and the song’s soft, aching vibe fit perfectly — the dreams, the memories, the almost‑moments they’re both scared to face. This chapter is all about that gentle realization that the feelings aren’t going away. Thank you for reading, and get ready — Part Three is where things start to shift. ❤️😊🥺💕

Bayley was standing in the doorway, hair messy, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, eyes wide and horrified.

She looked at Finn.

Then at the book in his hand.

Then back at Finn.

Her face went bright red.

“Finn… what are you doing?”

Finn’s mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. He set the book down immediately, like it was burning his fingers.

“I—Bayley, I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—”

She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. Not angry. Just… mortified.

“You were in my room,” she said quietly.

Finn swallowed hard. “Your dad asked me to watch the house. You fell asleep working on your paper. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Bayley blinked, cheeks still flushed. “Okay. But why were you touching my bookshelf?”

Finn exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t snooping. I swear. I saw the book and… I didn’t expect you to read stuff like that.”

Bayley covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God.”

Finn felt his stomach twist. “Bayley, I’m not judging. I promise.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, voice small. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“I know,” Finn said softly. “And I’m sorry.”

Bayley lowered her hands, letting out a shaky breath. She walked past him, gently picking up the book and sliding it back into its hidden spot on the shelf.

She didn’t look at him right away.

He didn’t move.

Finally, she turned, eyes softer now. “I’m gonna… get dressed. And maybe pretend this morning didn’t happen.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

But neither of them moved.

The air between them felt different now — heavier, warmer, charged in a way neither of them had ever acknowledged out loud.

Bayley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly shy in a way she hadn’t been in years. “Finn… please don’t tell my dad.”

Finn let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Bayley, I would never.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Okay.”

Finn stepped back toward the door, giving her space. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Bayley nodded again, but her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than they should have.

And Finn felt it — the shift.

The one he’d been trying to ignore.

The one she’d been avoiding.

The one neither of them could pretend wasn’t real anymore.

Bayley came into the kitchen about ten minutes later, hair brushed, hoodie swapped for a clean T‑shirt, trying very hard to look like a person who had not just been caught with a hidden book collection.

Finn was already there.

He stood at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping eggs like he’d been doing it his whole life. He didn’t look flustered. He didn’t look awkward. He looked… calm.

Which somehow made Bayley more flustered.

Finn glanced over his shoulder. “Morning.”

Bayley cleared her throat. “Hi.”

He slid a plate toward her. “Eat.”

She blinked. “You made me breakfast?”

Finn shrugged. “You fell asleep working on your paper. Figured you’d be starving.”

Bayley sat slowly, like she wasn’t sure if the chair was safe. “Thanks.”

Finn leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her with that soft, steady expression that made her stomach flip.

She took a bite.

And Finn waited exactly three seconds before saying, casually:

“So… about your books.”

Bayley choked.

On air.

On food.

On existence.

She grabbed her water, coughing. “Finn, don’t start.”

Finn bit back a smile. “I’m just saying—”

“No.” She pointed her fork at him. “Absolutely not.”

Finn held up his hands. “I didn’t know you read stuff like that.”

Bayley groaned, dropping her forehead onto her arms. “Please stop talking.”

Finn laughed softly — warm, gentle, teasing. “I’m not judging. I swear.”

“You weren’t supposed to see them,” she muttered into her sleeves.

“I figured,” Finn said. “They were hidden behind a stack of journals.”

Bayley lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “Because they’re private.”

Finn nodded. “I get that.”

She took another bite, cheeks still pink.

Finn tilted his head. “You’re flustered.”

Bayley’s face went bright red. “Finn…”

He stepped closer, teasing lightly. “It’s cute.”

Bayley froze.

Fork halfway to her mouth.

Eyes wide.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

Finn softened. “Okay. I’ll stop.”

But he didn’t stop smiling.

And she didn’t stop blushing.

And the mood didn’t go anywhere.

It settled between them — warm, awkward, undeniable.

Bayley took another bite of breakfast, cheeks still pink, trying desperately to act normal. Finn leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her with that soft, teasing smile that made her heart do things she didn’t want to admit.

She pushed her hair behind her ear.

He raised an eyebrow.

She blushed harder.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she muttered.

Finn smirked. “Like what?”

“Like you’re—” She cut herself off, flustered. “Just stop.”

Finn laughed under his breath. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Bayley froze.

Fork halfway to her mouth.

Eyes wide.

“Finn…”

He softened. “Okay. I’ll stop.”

But he didn’t stop smiling.

And she didn’t stop blushing.

And the mood didn’t go anywhere.

It settled between them — warm, awkward, undeniable.

And then—

The front door opened.

“Bayley! Finn! I’m back!”

Bayley nearly dropped her fork.

Finn straightened instantly, like he’d been caught doing something illegal.

AJ walked into the kitchen, keys jangling, completely oblivious to the emotional meltdown he’d just interrupted.

“Morning, kiddo,” AJ said, kissing Bayley’s head. “You sleep okay?”

Bayley squeaked. “Yep!”

AJ blinked. “You good?”

“Yep!”

Finn coughed into his fist, trying not to laugh.

AJ turned to him. “Thanks for watching the house, man.”

Finn nodded, voice a little too steady. “Anytime.”

AJ looked between them — Bayley red‑faced, Finn suspiciously quiet — and narrowed his eyes.

“What’s going on in here?”

Bayley panicked. “Breakfast!”

Finn nodded too fast. “Breakfast.”

AJ stared at them for a long moment.

Then shrugged. “Alright. I’m gonna shower.”

He walked out.

The second he was gone, Bayley dropped her face into her hands. “Oh my God.”

Finn tried not to smile. “That was close.”

She peeked at him through her fingers. “Don’t ever bring up the books again.”

Finn grinned. “No promises.”

Bayley groaned.

Finn laughed softly.

And the tension — the real tension — didn’t go anywhere.

Bayley lay down on her bed after fleeing the kitchen, pulling the blanket over her head like she could hide from her own feelings. She didn’t mean to fall asleep — she just closed her eyes for a minute.

But sleep came fast.

And with it… a dream.

She was older.

Maybe thirty.

Standing in a backyard that looked like her dad’s but wasn’t. There were toys scattered in the grass. A swing set. A tiny pair of shoes on the porch.

And Finn was there.

Not younger Finn.

Not the Finn she saw backstage.

Older Finn. Softer. Laughing. Holding a toddler with her eyes and his smile.

Bayley felt warmth bloom in her chest — the kind that scared her.

In the dream, Finn walked toward her, child on his hip, sunlight catching in his hair. He kissed her cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said.

She smiled back.

She felt married.

She felt loved.

She felt safe.

And it terrified her.

Because she wanted it.

Because she didn’t want to want it.

Because she didn’t know what to do with the feeling.

The dream shifted — the child laughing, Finn’s hand brushing hers, the quiet domestic softness she’d never let herself imagine.

Then she woke up.

Heart pounding.

Face flushed.

Hands shaking.

“Oh my God,” she whispered into the dark.

She sat up, grabbed her journal, and opened to a blank page. She didn’t know what she was writing yet — she just knew she had to get it out before it swallowed her whole.

She wrote the first line:

Finn, I don’t know why I dreamed about you like that.

She stared at it, breath uneven.

Then she kept writing.

Across town, Finn was asleep on his couch, TV still on low volume. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep either — he’d been thinking about Bayley, about her blush, about the books, about the way she looked at him before AJ walked in.

He drifted off.

And he dreamed too.

Not about the future.

About the past.

Three years earlier.

The night they almost kissed.

It wasn’t dramatic — just a quiet moment after a cookout. Bayley had been washing dishes, Finn drying them. AJ had gone outside to talk to a neighbor. The kitchen was warm, soft, quiet.

Bayley handed him a plate. Their fingers brushed.

She looked up at him.

He looked down at her.

And something shifted.

She stepped closer.

He didn’t step back.

Her breath hitched.

His heart stopped.

They weren’t going to kiss — they shouldn’t kiss — but they almost did. That tiny, electric almost that lived in the space between them.

In the dream, Finn saw it clearly.

The way she leaned in.

The way he wanted to.

The way he didn’t.

He woke up in a cold sweat.

Breathing hard.

Heart racing.

Hands shaking.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. But the memory wouldn’t fade. The almost‑kiss. The tension. The way she looked at him then… and now.

He didn’t know what it meant.

He didn’t know what to do with it.

But he knew he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Back in her room, Bayley stared at the half‑written page. Her dream still clung to her, warm and terrifying.

She took a breath.

Then another.

And she finished the note.

Not perfect.

Not poetic.

Just honest.

She folded it carefully, tucking it into the back of her journal — hidden, safe, waiting.

She wasn’t giving it to Finn yet.

Not until her dad left. 

Not until she found her courage.

But she kept the note close.

Just in case.

To Be Continued 

TAGLIST

Pair: Bayley X Finn Balor 

Plot: Six years after their first meeting, Bayley returns home for the summer and Finn finds himself drawn into her orbit more than ever. What started as harmless familiarity has quietly grown into something neither of them knows how to name. Between cookouts, backstage moments, and the kind of accidental closeness that keeps happening no matter how hard they try to avoid it, Finn begins to realize that the line he promised himself he’d never cross is getting harder to see. When AJ asks Finn to watch the house, a simple favor turns into a moment that changes everything — revealing just how much tension has been building beneath the surface. And for the first time, Finn has to face the possibility that the feelings he’s been trying to ignore might not be one‑sided after all.

Okay so… hi. I don’t even know how this part ended up being the most accidentally intimate thing I’ve ever written, but here we are. I had San Luis by Gregory Alan Isakov playing the entire time — that soft, warm, quietly emotional vibe that feels like something shifting before anyone says it out loud.

This chapter is all about the slow burn finally catching fire. We start with the past, jump to the present, and suddenly Finn is standing in Bayley’s room holding a book he absolutely did not expect her to own. The tension is ridiculous, the timing is terrible, and the universe clearly hates them both.

I wanted this part to feel like that moment when you realize you’ve crossed into new territory without meaning to — when something innocent becomes something charged, and you can’t pretend you didn’t feel it. Finn’s panic, Bayley’s embarrassment, AJ’s suspicion… it’s all simmering right under the surface.

Thank you for reading, thank you for loving this messy little slow burn, and thank you for letting me emotionally torment these characters in peace.💕❤️😊🥺

Flashback Six Years Ago 

Bayley was twenty‑one the first time Finn really met her.

Not the backstage glimpses.

Not the quick hellos when she was younger.

Not the polite nods when AJ introduced her in passing.

This was the first real meeting.

It was after a house show in Georgia — one of those long, sweaty nights where the boys were exhausted and AJ insisted Finn come over for “a couple beers and real food.” Finn never said no to that.

AJ’s house was warm, loud, lived‑in. Finn walked in still wearing his hoodie, hair damp from the shower, expecting to see AJ’s wife, maybe one of the boys running around.

He didn’t expect her.

Bayley came down the stairs with her hair in a messy bun, wearing an oversized college sweatshirt and shorts, holding a textbook under her arm. She looked half‑asleep, half‑annoyed, and completely unprepared for company.

AJ grinned. “Bayley! Look who’s here.”

She blinked at Finn, then smiled — small, polite, shy. “Hi.”

Finn nodded. “Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to crash your study night.”

She laughed softly. “Trust me, you saved me. I needed a break.”

AJ clapped Finn on the back. “She’s home for the weekend. College is kicking her ass.”

Bayley rolled her eyes. “Dad, please.”

Finn watched the exchange, amused. She was cute — in that young, earnest way. Not a kid, but not fully grown into herself yet. Just… Bayley.

She walked past him into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. Finn followed AJ, but his eyes drifted back to her without meaning to.

She caught him looking.

He looked away fast.

AJ didn’t notice.

Bayley did.

She smiled again — a little bigger this time. “You want something to drink? Dad never stocks anything normal.”

Finn cleared his throat. “Beer’s fine.”

She handed him one, their fingers brushing for half a second. Finn felt it — stupidly, unexpectedly — and pretended he didn’t.

AJ kept talking, loud and animated, but Finn’s attention kept drifting toward the girl leaning against the counter, sipping her water, watching him with quiet curiosity.

She wasn’t magnetic yet.

She wasn’t the woman she’d become.

But she was something.

And Finn felt the first flicker of trouble right then — small, harmless, easy to ignore.

He didn’t ignore it.

Not really.

He just didn’t understand it yet.

Time skip 3 years later 

Three years later.

Bayley pulled into the driveway with the same beat‑up car she’d had since freshman year, but everything else about her was different. Twenty‑four now, home for the summer, sunglasses perched on her head, hair longer, posture straighter, confidence settled into her like she finally knew who she was.

She grabbed her suitcase from the trunk, humming to herself as she walked up the porch steps.

She expected her dad to open the door.

She expected AJ’s loud voice, his laugh, his “Bayley! You’re home!”

But when she pushed the door open, the house was quiet.

Except for him.

Finn was sitting on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, phone in his hand, boots kicked off. He looked up the second he heard the door.

And froze.

Bayley blinked. “Finn?”

He stood a little too fast. “Hey. Uh—hey. You’re early.”

She set her suitcase down, confused but smiling. “Where’s my dad?”

Finn rubbed the back of his neck. “He got called to the school last minute. Something with the boys’ team. He asked me to… watch the house until you got here.”

Bayley laughed. “Watch the house? What, did he think I’d get kidnapped walking through the front door?”

Finn shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You know AJ. He worries.”

She stepped fully inside, closing the door behind her. And Finn saw it — really saw it — the way she’d changed. The way she carried herself. The way her smile wasn’t shy anymore. The way she looked at him like she wasn’t a kid and never had been.

His stomach dropped.

I’m in trouble.  

Again.

Worse this time.

Bayley kicked off her shoes, brushing past him on her way to the kitchen. “Did you eat? I’m starving.”

Finn followed without meaning to. “Uh, no. I was waiting.”

“For me?” she teased.

Finn swallowed. “For AJ.”

She smirked, opening the fridge. “Sure.”

She grabbed two waters, tossing one to him. He caught it — barely — because he was too busy staring at her. She didn’t notice. Or maybe she did. It was getting harder to tell.

Bayley leaned against the counter, sipping her drink. “So… you’re babysitting the house.”

Finn exhaled. “Something like that.”

She smiled — warm, older, knowing. “Well. Thanks for being here.”

Finn’s pulse kicked up. “Yeah. Anytime.”

And that was the moment — the real moment — when everything shifted.

Not the first meeting at twenty‑one.

Not the polite smiles.

Not the harmless crush.

This was the moment Finn realized she wasn’t just AJ’s daughter anymore.

She was Bayley.

Twenty‑four.

Grown.

Magnetic.

And standing in the kitchen with him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And he knew — with absolute certainty — that he was in trouble.

Present Day 

Not for Finn.

Not for Bayley.

She was twenty‑seven now, finishing her graduate program, splitting her time between campus and her dad’s house. She’d grown into herself fully — confident, warm, grounded, the kind of woman who walked into a room and made people look twice without even trying.

And Finn?

Finn was still in trouble.

Worse than before.

AJ’s cookouts had become a summer tradition. Big ones. Loud ones. The kind where Finn always showed up early to help and always stayed late without meaning to.

And somehow — always — he and Bayley ended up together.

It happened every time.

Finn would be helping AJ grill, and Bayley would slip inside to grab more plates. Finn would follow to get more drinks. And suddenly it was just the two of them in the kitchen again, moving around each other like they’d practiced it.

Bayley would laugh. “We always end up in here.”

Finn would pretend he wasn’t flustered. “Coincidence.”

But it never was.

Every cookout ended the same way: Bayley gathering empty cups, Finn helping without being asked. AJ would be outside talking to someone, and Finn would be inside rinsing dishes while Bayley wiped down the counters.

“Thanks for helping,” she’d say.

Finn would shrug. “Just being polite.”

But he wasn’t just being polite.

He liked being near her.

He liked the quiet moments.

He liked her.

And he was starting to think she liked him too

It happened on a random Friday night show.

Finn took a bad bump — nothing serious, just a scrape along his forearm that wouldn’t stop bleeding. AJ had a match right after, so he rushed off, leaving Finn in the trainer’s room.

Bayley appeared in the doorway, still in her hoodie, hair in a loose braid. “Dad said you got hurt.”

Finn blinked. “It’s nothing.”

She walked over anyway, grabbing a disinfectant wipe. “Let me see.”

He held out his arm. She cleaned the scrape gently, focused, careful. Her fingers brushed his skin, light and warm, and Finn felt his breath catch.

She didn’t look up.

He didn’t look away.

There was a moment — a real one — where the air shifted. Where Finn wondered if she felt it too. Where Bayley’s hand hesitated on his arm, her cheeks flushing just slightly.

Finn swallowed. “Bayley…”

She froze.

Then she pulled her hand back fast.

“I—um—I should go. Dad’s match is starting.”

And she walked out.

Quickly.

Too quickly.

Finn stared at the door long after she left, heart pounding.

Does she like me back?

He didn’t know.

But something had changed.

Bayley didn’t talk to him for a week.

Not in a dramatic way — just in a “I’m suddenly very busy” way. She left cookouts early. She stayed backstage with her dad. She didn’t linger in the kitchen. She didn’t help clean up.

She didn’t look at him too long.

She didn’t let him look at her at all.

Finn felt the absence like a bruise.

AJ didn’t notice.

But Finn did.

And he knew — with absolute certainty — that whatever was happening between them wasn’t one‑sided anymore.

It was real.

It was mutual.

It was dangerous.

And it was getting harder to ignore.

Bayley had been avoiding him for days.

Not dramatically — just quietly. Softly. The kind of avoidance that hurt more because it wasn’t angry. It was nervous. Careful. Intentional.

Finn felt it.

AJ felt it too.

They were in AJ’s garage, the door cracked open, the summer heat drifting in while AJ sorted through old gear bags. Finn sat on a stool, taping his wrist out of habit, trying not to think about the way Bayley wouldn’t even look at him lately.

AJ sighed, tossing a pair of old gloves aside. “Man… I don’t know what’s up with her.”

Finn’s stomach tightened. “Bayley?”

AJ nodded. “Yeah. She won’t talk to me. Barely answers texts. Leaves the house early, comes home late. She’s never like this.”

Finn swallowed, keeping his face neutral. “Maybe school’s stressing her out.”

AJ shook his head. “Nah. I know my kid. This isn’t school.”

Finn’s pulse kicked up.

AJ leaned against the workbench, arms crossed, eyes narrowing slightly. “Finn… you’re around her a lot. You notice anything?”

Finn forced a casual shrug. “She seems fine to me.”

AJ didn’t look convinced. He studied Finn for a long moment — too long — and Finn felt the air shift.

Then AJ asked the question Finn had been terrified of.

“Finn… do you have feelings for her?”

Finn froze.

Just for a second.

Just long enough for his heart to stop.

Just long enough to know AJ saw something.

But Finn recovered fast — brilliantly, smoothly, like he’d rehearsed it.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “AJ… no. Come on.”

AJ didn’t look away. “I’m serious.”

Finn met his eyes, steady and calm. “Bayley’s your daughter. I respect that. I respect her. But there’s nothing like that going on. Not from me.”

AJ exhaled, shoulders relaxing just a little. “Good. I just… I don’t want her getting mixed up in anything complicated.”

Finn nodded. “I get it. You don’t have to worry.”

And the thing was — Finn didn’t sound defensive.

He didn’t sound guilty.

He sounded exactly like a man who had no reason to lie.

AJ believed him.

“Alright,” AJ said, grabbing another gear bag. “Just needed to make sure.”

Finn nodded again, keeping his expression easy, casual, friendly.

But inside?

He was spiraling.

Because AJ had seen something.

Because Bayley was avoiding him.

Because the tension backstage wasn’t one‑sided.

Because Finn had just lied to one of his closest friends without blinking.

And because he knew — more than ever — that he was in trouble.

Bayley had been holed up in her room all night, working on her final paper for her social work program. AJ checked on her once, saw her typing furiously, and left her alone. Around midnight, her laptop was still open, cursor blinking, but Bayley had fallen asleep sideways across her bed, hoodie half‑on, hair a mess, textbook open beside her.

AJ peeked in early the next morning, sighed, and whispered, “Kid’s exhausted.”

He closed the door quietly.

Then he found Finn in the kitchen, already drinking coffee.

“Hey,” AJ said. “I gotta run to the school again. Can you watch the house?”

Finn didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, of course.”

AJ clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks. Bayley’s still asleep. Just make sure she doesn’t burn the place down if she wakes up hungry.”

Finn laughed. “I’ll check on her.”

AJ left.

The house went quiet.

Finn waited a few minutes, then headed down the hallway. He wasn’t trying to snoop — he just wanted to make sure she was okay. She’d been avoiding him for days, and even though he didn’t want to admit it, he missed her.

He knocked softly.

No answer.

He cracked the door open.

Bayley was still asleep, curled up on her side, laptop glowing faintly. Finn stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him. He picked up her laptop, set it safely on the desk, then grabbed the blanket at the foot of her bed and draped it over her.

He should’ve left.

He really should’ve.

But something on her bookshelf caught his eye.

A row of books — not textbooks, not novels — tucked behind a stack of journals. He recognized the covers instantly. Romance. Dark romance. Spicy romance. The kind of stuff he absolutely did not expect Bayley to read.

Finn blinked.

Then blinked again.

Bayley reads this?

He stepped closer, curiosity getting the better of him. He pulled one book out — just one — flipping it over in his hand. The summary made his eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh… wow,” Finn whispered.

He wasn’t judging.

He was just… surprised.

And maybe a little flustered.

He turned the book over again, thumb brushing the spine.

That’s when he heard it.

A soft inhale behind him.

Finn froze.

He turned slowly.

Bayley was standing in the doorway, hair messy, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, eyes wide and horrified.

She looked at Finn.

Then at the book in his hand.

Then back at Finn.

Her face went bright red.

“Finn… what are you doing?”

To Be Continued 

TAGLIST

Pair: Liv Morgan X Roman Reigns 

Plot: After a night apart, Liv and Roman wake to the weight of everything left unsaid. Liv seeks comfort and clarity from Rhea, while Roman turns to Jimmy and Trinity, each trying to understand how things spiraled so quickly. When morning comes, both know they can’t avoid the conversation any longer. Liv returns home, still nervous and unsure, only to find Roman already waiting — determined to fix what was broken. What follows is an honest, emotional reckoning between two people who care deeply but fear hurting each other. Through vulnerability, truth, and the courage to listen, Liv and Roman finally begin to rebuild the trust shaken the day before, discovering that sometimes the hardest conversations lead to the strongest connections.

Part Two is me crawling out of the emotional grave I dug in Part One and handing you a blanket and a warm drink. I wrote this entire section with Gregory Alan Isakov’s “Stable Song” playing in the background — that soft, hopeful, aching vibe that feels like healing after a long night.

This finale is all about honesty, vulnerability, and the terrifying relief of finally saying the thing you were scared to say. Liv and Roman get to breathe here. They get to talk. They get to choose each other again, even after everything.

It’s gentle. It’s emotional. It’s messy in a softer way. And it ends exactly where it needed to — with warmth instead of hurt.

Thank you for sticking through the angst to get to the healing. I love you for it. 💕🥺😊❤️

Roman sat forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white. Trinity stayed beside him, one hand on his back, steady and warm. Jimmy stood in front of him, arms crossed, expression serious.

Roman drew in a shaky breath.

“I messed up,” he said quietly.

Jimmy nodded once. “Alright. Start from the top.”

Roman swallowed hard. “I went to the World Cup with Joelle and… Galina.”

Trinity’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

“It wasn’t planned,” Roman continued. “Joelle wanted me there. Galina texted me that morning. I thought it’d be fine. Just co‑parenting. Nothing more.”

Jimmy sat down across from him. “And Liv didn’t know?”

Roman shook his head. “I called her. We talked. I didn’t tell her Galina was there.”

Trinity exhaled softly. “Ro…”

“I know,” Roman said, voice cracking. “I know. I should’ve told her. I just… didn’t want her to feel insecure. I didn’t want her to think anything was happening.”

Jimmy leaned forward. “But something happened?”

Roman rubbed his face. “We argued. Me and Galina. Joelle went to the bathroom, and Galina started in on Liv. Said Joelle shouldn’t get attached. Said Liv wasn’t family. Said she wouldn’t last.”

Trinity’s eyes softened. “And you defended her.”

Roman nodded. “Of course I did. I told her Liv was different. I told her Liv mattered.”

Jimmy sighed. “And someone took a picture.”

Roman’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. Right when Joelle came back. We looked like… like a perfect family. And Liv saw it.”

Trinity’s hand paused on his back. “Oh, Roman…”

“She thought I lied,” Roman whispered. “She thought I hid it. She thought I didn’t want her to know.”

Jimmy shook his head. “You didn’t lie. But you didn’t tell her the truth either.”

Roman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “She left, Uce. She walked out. She went to Rhea’s. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

Trinity squeezed his shoulder gently. “You fix it by telling her everything. No holding back. No protecting her from the truth. She’s strong enough to hear it.”

Jimmy nodded. “And she loves you, man. She wouldn’t be this hurt if she didn’t.”

Roman closed his eyes, breathing out slowly.

“I just want her back,” he said. “I just want her to understand.”

Trinity exchanged a look with Jimmy — the kind of look only people who’ve been through their own storms can share.

“Then go to her,” Trinity said softly. “But go honest.”

Roman nodded, wiping his face with his palm.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I will.”

Liv pulled into Rhea’s driveway with her heart still pounding, her chest tight, her thoughts tangled. She sat in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, trying to steady her breathing.

Then she got out.

She walked up the porch steps and knocked. It wasn’t gentle — it was the kind of knock that carried everything she was feeling.

Rhea opened the door almost immediately.

Her expression softened the second she saw Liv’s face. “Oh, babe… come here.”

Liv stepped inside, and Rhea shut the door behind her. Liv didn’t even try to hold it together — she fell into Rhea’s arms, her voice breaking.

“I’m so stupid,” Liv whispered.

Rhea hugged her tighter. “No you’re not. Sit down. Tell me what happened.”

They moved to the couch, Liv sinking into the cushions like she was collapsing. Rhea sat beside her, legs tucked under her, giving Liv her full attention.

Liv wiped her cheeks. “He called me this morning. He sounded happy. Sweet. Normal. And he didn’t tell me he was with her.”

Rhea’s brows lifted slightly, but she stayed quiet.

Liv swallowed hard. “I saw a picture. At the World Cup. Him, Joelle, and Galina. Sitting together. Looking… comfortable. Like a family.”

Rhea nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“And he didn’t tell me,” Liv whispered. “He didn’t tell me she was there. He didn’t tell me they were sitting together. He didn’t tell me anything.”

Rhea tilted her head. “So what did you do?”

Liv looked down at her hands. “I left.”

Rhea blinked. “You left?”

Liv nodded, voice small. “I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t… I just felt stupid.”

Rhea exhaled, leaning back slightly. “Liv… why did you leave instead of talking to him?”

Liv’s eyes filled again. “Because I didn’t want to hear something that would hurt worse.”

Rhea’s voice softened but stayed firm. “But you didn’t give him a chance to explain.”

Liv swallowed hard. “I know.”

“You didn’t ask him anything,” Rhea said gently. “You didn’t let him tell you what happened. You just reacted.”

Liv’s breath shook. “I was scared.”

Rhea reached over, taking her hand. “I know. But running doesn’t protect you. It just delays the hurt.”

Liv looked up, eyes glassy. “What if the explanation is bad?”

“What if it’s not?” Rhea countered. “What if it’s simple? What if it’s something you can fix together?”

Liv’s voice cracked. “I didn’t want to look like I cared too much.”

Rhea squeezed her hand. “You do care too much. And that’s not a weakness.”

Liv’s shoulders slumped, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Rhea pulled her into another hug. “You love him. So you have to talk to him. Not run from him.”

Liv nodded slowly, her voice barely a whisper.

“Okay.”

Rhea had gone quiet, letting Liv breathe, letting her sit with everything she’d just spilled out. Liv wiped her face again, staring down at her hands, her chest still tight but her mind finally slowing.

Her phone buzzed.

She froze.

Rhea glanced at her. “Go on. Check it.”

Liv swallowed and picked up her phone.

Roman:  

Can we talk tomorrow? At your place.  

Please.

Liv’s heart thudded once — hard.

Rhea watched her expression shift. “What did he say?”

Liv handed her the phone.

Rhea read it, nodded once, then looked at Liv with that blunt, big‑sister honesty she was known for.

“Well,” she said, “you wanted space. He’s giving it to you.”

Liv’s throat tightened. “He wants to talk.”

“Of course he does,” Rhea said. “He loves you. And you owe him a conversation.”

Liv looked down at the message again, her thumb hovering over the screen.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

Rhea leaned back, arms crossed. “You don’t have to say anything tonight. Just answer him.”

Liv nodded slowly, fingers trembling as she typed.

Liv:  

Okay. Tomorrow.

She hit send before she could overthink it.

Rhea exhaled softly. “Good. Now breathe. Tomorrow you two figure this out.”

Liv set her phone down, pulling her knees up to her chest. She didn’t feel better — not yet — but she felt steadier. Like the storm had paused, waiting for morning.

And somewhere across town, Roman stared at her message, relief washing over him like he could finally breathe again.

Tomorrow, everything would come to a head.

Liv lay on her back in Rhea’s guest bed, staring at the ceiling like it might give her answers. The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that made her thoughts louder instead of calmer.

Her phone sat on the nightstand, Roman’s message still open.

Tomorrow. At your place.

Her stomach twisted.

Rhea had given her space, closing the door gently and telling her to rest. But rest felt impossible. Every time Liv closed her eyes, she saw that picture again — Roman, Joelle, Galina. The three of them looking like they belonged together.

She hated that it hurt.

She hated that she cared so much.

She hated that she’d left instead of talking.

Liv rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Her chest felt tight, her breathing uneven.

What if tomorrow makes everything worse?  

What if he says something I can’t handle?  

What if I’m overreacting?  

What if I’m not?

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could turn her brain off.

Rhea’s words echoed in her head:

“You didn’t let him explain.”

Liv swallowed hard.

She wasn’t ready for tomorrow.

But she knew she needed it.

She just hoped she wouldn’t break before then.

Roman sat on Jimmy’s couch long after the conversation ended, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly. The house was dim now, the baby asleep in the next room, Trinity cleaning up quietly in the kitchen.

Jimmy sat across from him, watching him with that steady, brotherly patience.

Roman exhaled shakily.

“I can’t lose her,” he said, voice low.

Jimmy nodded. “Then you go in tomorrow honest. No holding back.”

Roman rubbed his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I know,” Jimmy said. “But she’s hurt anyway. So fix it.”

Roman leaned back, staring at the ceiling. His chest felt heavy, like every breath was a struggle. He replayed the day in his head — the stadium, the argument with Galina, the picture, Liv’s face when she said she saw it.

He wished he could go back.

He wished he could tell her everything sooner.

He wished he could erase the look in her eyes.

Trinity walked over, sitting beside him. “Ro… she loves you. That’s why she’s scared.”

Roman swallowed hard. “I’m scared too.”

Trinity rested a hand on his arm. “Then tell her that.”

Roman nodded slowly.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he would go to her house.

Tomorrow he would explain everything.

Tomorrow he would fight for her.

He just hoped she’d still want him when he did.

Liv woke up slowly, the kind of slow where her body felt heavy before her eyes even opened. Rhea’s guest room was quiet, sunlight slipping through the curtains in soft stripes. For a moment, Liv forgot where she was.

Then everything from yesterday hit her at once.

Her chest tightened.

She sat up, rubbing her face, trying to steady her breathing. Rhea knocked lightly on the door before poking her head in.

“Morning,” Rhea said gently. “You okay?”

Liv nodded, even though she wasn’t. “I’m… trying.”

Rhea stepped inside, handing her a mug of coffee. “You’re seeing him today.”

Liv swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“You ready?”

“No,” Liv admitted. “But I have to be.”

Rhea squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”

Liv got dressed slowly, grabbed her bag, and headed out. Rhea walked her to the door, giving her one last hug.

“Talk to him,” Rhea whispered. “Really talk.”

Liv nodded, then left.

Roman arrived early.

He stood on Liv’s porch, hands in his pockets, heart pounding harder than he wanted to admit. He’d barely slept. Every hour felt like a countdown to this moment.

He didn’t know what she’d say.

He didn’t know if she’d forgive him.

He didn’t know if she’d still want him.

But he knew he had to try.

He paced once, twice, then stopped when he saw her car pull into the driveway.

Liv parked.

She sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel.

Then she stepped out.

Their eyes met.

Roman’s breath caught.

Liv walked toward him slowly, nerves written all over her face. Roman didn’t move toward her — he stayed still, giving her space, giving her control.

“Hi,” Liv said softly.

“Hi,” Roman replied, voice just as soft.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside. Roman followed, closing it gently behind them.

The house felt too quiet.

Too still.

Too full of everything they hadn’t said.

Liv turned to him, arms crossed lightly over her chest — not defensive, just… bracing herself.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Talk.”

Roman swallowed hard, stepping closer but not too close.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything. For not telling you. For hurting you. For making you feel like you weren’t part of my life.”

Liv’s eyes flickered, but she didn’t speak.

Roman continued, voice low and honest. “I didn’t tell you Galina was there because I didn’t want you to feel insecure. I didn’t want you to think anything was happening. I didn’t want you to worry.”

Liv’s throat tightened. “But I did.”

“I know,” Roman said. “And that’s on me.”

Liv looked down, blinking fast. “You looked like a family.”

Roman’s chest clenched. “We’re co‑parents. That’s all. But you… you’re the person I come home to. You’re the person I want. You’re the person I love.”

Liv’s breath hitched.

Roman stepped closer, voice cracking. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you with the truth. I should’ve trusted us.”

Liv swallowed hard. “I was scared.”

Roman nodded. “Me too.”

Silence settled — heavy, emotional, but not hopeless.

Liv finally looked up at him, eyes glassy. “I didn’t want to leave. I just… didn’t know how to stay.”

Roman’s voice softened. “Then let’s figure out how to stay. Together.”

Liv’s breath shook.

Roman reached out slowly — giving her every chance to pull away — and Liv didn’t move.

His hand brushed hers.

She let him.

And for the first time since yesterday, something inside her loosened.

iv’s hand stayed in Roman’s, small and trembling, but she didn’t pull away. Roman held it gently, like he was afraid too much pressure might break her.

They stood there for a moment — quiet, breathing the same air, hearts beating too fast.

Liv finally whispered, “I don’t want to fight with you.”

Roman shook his head. “Me neither.”

She swallowed. “I just… I didn’t know where I fit. Seeing you with them… it made me feel like I was outside your life.”

Roman stepped closer, voice soft but steady. “You’re not outside anything. You’re part of it. More than you know.”

Liv looked up, eyes glassy. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Roman exhaled. “Because I didn’t want you to think Galina being there meant anything. I didn’t want you to feel threatened. I didn’t want you to hurt.”

Liv’s voice cracked. “But I did.”

“I know,” Roman whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

Silence settled again — but this time, it wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t heavy. It was soft, waiting.

Roman hesitated… then said the thing he’d been holding onto.

“Liv… Joelle wants to meet you.”

Liv’s breath caught.

Roman watched her face shift — surprise, confusion, hope all flickering at once. “She does?”

He nodded. “She asked me. More than once. She likes you. She wants to know you.”

Liv’s eyes widened, her posture straightening, her whole expression softening. “She… really said that?”

Roman smiled — a small, tired, honest smile. “Yeah. She thinks you’re cool.”

Liv let out a tiny laugh, wiping her cheek. “I didn’t think she even noticed me.”

“She did,” Roman said. “She does. And she wants you in her life.”

Liv’s chest loosened, her shoulders dropping as the tension she’d been carrying finally cracked open. “Roman…”

He stepped closer, gently cupping her cheek. “I want you in my life too. All of it. Not just the easy parts.”

Liv leaned into his hand without thinking.

Roman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you. And I’m sorry I made you doubt where you stand.”

Liv’s eyes filled again — but this time, not from hurt.

She reached up, fingers curling lightly around his wrist. “I love you too.”

Roman’s forehead pressed to hers, their breaths mixing, their hands still intertwined.

And then Liv whispered, “Come here.”

Roman kissed her — slow, soft, careful, like he was afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast. Liv kissed him back, fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him closer.

It wasn’t desperate.

It wasn’t rushed.

It was healing.

When they finally pulled back, Liv rested her forehead against his, smiling through her tears.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered, “we can talk to Joelle.”

Roman smiled. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

And for the first time since everything fell apart, they both felt steady again.

The End

TAGLIST 😊

Pair: Liv Morgan X Roman Reigns 

Plot: Roman’s day begins with a simple plan: meet his daughter Joelle and her mother Galina before the World Cup Final. What should be an easy co‑parenting morning slowly turns tense, revealing old wounds and unspoken boundaries that still linger between them. Meanwhile, Liv starts her day with quiet comfort — breakfast, her animals, and a sweet phone call from Roman that leaves her feeling loved and steady. But as the day unfolds, a single moment at the stadium shifts everything, pulling Liv into a spiral of doubt she never expected. By the time Roman returns home, both of them are carrying emotions they don’t know how to express. A conversation meant to bring clarity instead cracks open something deeper, leaving Liv overwhelmed and Roman desperate to fix what he never meant to break. When Liv leaves to find space and Roman turns to family for support, both are forced to confront the distance between them — and the truth neither of them wanted to face.

Okay so… hi. I don’t even know how to explain the emotional damage I put into this part except to say that I was fully in my Gregory Alan Isakov feelings while writing it. “Second Chances” was basically the backbone of Part One — that soft ache, that quiet hurt, that feeling of something slipping through your fingers before you even realize it.

This chapter is messy in the way real emotions are messy. Liv spirals, Roman panics, and everything feels heavy and sharp and too close to the surface. I wanted Part One to feel like that moment right before a storm breaks — the tension, the silence, the breath you hold without meaning to.

Thank you for reading, thank you for hurting with me, and thank you for loving these two idiots as much as I do. @ambreignsfan4life I hope you like the first part the second part will be out soon. 🥺❤️💕

Roman woke up early that morning, the kind of early where the sky was still pale and quiet. He checked his phone and saw the message he expected:

“We’re downstairs. Joelle wants to see you before we head to the stadium.”  

— Galina

He exhaled slowly. Things between him and Galina weren’t messy anymore. They weren’t romantic. They weren’t dramatic. They were simply two parents doing their best for their daughter.

Roman threw on a hoodie, grabbed his keys, and headed downstairs.

Joelle spotted him first.

“Dad!” she shouted, running straight into his arms.

Roman scooped her up, kissing her forehead. “Morning, baby girl.”

She grinned. “Mom said we’re going to the World Cup Final! You’re coming, right?”

Roman nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Galina approached, hands in her pockets, offering a polite smile.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning,” Roman replied, calm and respectful.

Roman buckled himself in the backseat beside Joelle — she insisted he sit with her — while Galina drove. The morning sun was bright, traffic already thick with fans heading toward the World Cup Final.

Joelle swung her legs excitedly.

“Dad,” she said suddenly, “how’s Liv?”

Roman blinked, surprised but smiling softly. “She’s good, baby. She’s been busy with work, but she’s good.”

Galina’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. She didn’t say anything, but Roman noticed the way her shoulders stiffened. She didn’t dislike Liv — she just didn’t know her, and the topic always made her visibly uncomfortable.

Joelle kept going anyway.

“I wanna go see her one day,” she said, leaning her head on Roman’s arm. “Like… actually meet her. She seems nice.”

Roman’s heart warmed. “She’d love that.”

Galina cleared her throat quickly, eyes fixed on the road.

“So,” she said, voice a little too bright, “Joelle, did you bring your jersey? You said you wanted to get it signed.”

Joelle perked up instantly. “YES! It’s in my bag!”

Roman knew exactly what Galina was doing — changing the subject. He didn’t blame her. Their boundaries were delicate, and Liv was a new part of his life. But he also wasn’t going to pretend Liv didn’t matter.

He rested his hand on Joelle’s back.

“We’ll figure out a day,” he said gently. “When everything’s calm.”

Joelle nodded happily, already distracted by the excitement of the match.

He didn’t know it yet, but something waiting for them at the stadium would change the rest of his day. 

Liv woke up slow, the kind of slow where she stayed under the covers for an extra minute just listening to the quiet. Sunlight warmed her face through the blinds, and her dog was already sitting beside the bed, tail thumping softly.

“Okay, okay, I’m up,” she laughed, rubbing his head.

She padded into the kitchen, still in her oversized sleep shirt, and started her morning routine. Eggs sizzling in the pan, toast popping up, her cat weaving between her ankles like she owned the place.

“Breakfast for you two first,” Liv said, grabbing their bowls.

Once they were fed, she finally sat down with her own plate. She took one bite before her phone buzzed on the table.

Incoming call: Roman

Liv smiled instantly and answered, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“Good morning, baby,” Roman’s voice came through, warm and deep.

Liv melted a little. “Morning. You sound awake-awake.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, had to get up early. Big day.”

She took another bite of her breakfast. “Where are you?”

Roman hesitated for half a second — just long enough for someone who knew him well to notice, but Liv didn’t catch it.

“Just out,” he said lightly. “Running around. Wanted to call you before things get crazy.”

Liv smiled, leaning back in her chair. “That’s sweet.”

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“Good,” she said. “Animals woke me up, but that’s normal.”

Roman laughed. “I miss them.”

“They miss you too,” Liv teased. “Especially the cat. She’s obsessed with you.”

“Smart girl,” he said, voice warm. “I’m gonna see you later, okay?”

Liv nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

Roman’s tone softened. “I love hearing your voice in the morning.”

Liv’s cheeks warmed. “Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.”

He laughed again, low and fond. “Good. I’ll call you later, baby.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Be safe.”

They hung up, and Liv set her phone down, still smiling. She finished her breakfast, fed her animals, cleaned up the kitchen, and went about her morning feeling warm and loved.

She didn’t know yet.

She didn’t know what Roman wasn’t telling her.

She didn’t know who he was with.

She didn’t know what she’d see later.

For now, she just felt happy.

The stadium was electric — chants echoing, flags waving, cameras flashing. Roman, Galina, and Joelle moved through the VIP section together, settling into their seats with the kind of ease that only comes from years of co‑parenting.

Joelle dropped into the seat between them, pulling out her phone.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom before kickoff,” she said, already standing. “Be right back.”

Roman nodded. “Text me if you need me.”

Joelle rolled her eyes playfully. “Dad, I’m literally fifteen.”

He smirked. “Still my kid.”

She headed off, disappearing into the crowd.

The moment she was gone, the air between Roman and Galina shifted — quieter, heavier.

Galina adjusted her sunglasses, eyes fixed on the field. Roman watched her for a moment before speaking.

“Why do you always shut down when Joelle asks about Liv?”

Galina didn’t look at him. “Roman, not here.”

“No,” he said, voice low but firm. “Here. Because it keeps happening.”

Galina exhaled sharply. “She’s a teenager. She doesn’t need to be dragged into your new relationship.”

Roman’s jaw tightened. “Liv isn’t dragging her into anything. Joelle asked on her own.”

Galina finally turned her head, expression cool. “Joelle doesn’t need to get attached to someone who might not be around in a year.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Liv isn’t temporary.”

Galina scoffed softly. “You’ve said that before.”

Roman leaned closer, voice dropping. “Liv is different.”

Galina raised a brow. “Different how? Because she’s younger? Because she’s fun? Because she makes you feel good?”

Roman’s chest tightened. “Because she’s good to me. And Joelle likes her.”

Galina shrugged. “Joelle likes everyone. She’s a teenager, Roman. She doesn’t understand the long‑term consequences.”

Roman shook his head. “You’re being unfair.”

Galina’s voice sharpened. “I’m being realistic. I don’t want Joelle thinking Liv is some new mother figure.”

Roman’s tone softened but stayed firm. “Liv would never try to replace you.”

Galina didn’t budge. “Maybe not. But she’s not family.”

Roman’s jaw clenched. “She could be.”

Galina froze — that one hit her.

Her eyes flickered, something wounded and defensive flashing through them.

Before she could respond, Joelle returned, sliding back into her seat with a bag of snacks.

“Okay, I’m ready!” she said brightly. “Did I miss anything?”

Instantly — instantly — Roman and Galina straightened, smiles snapping back into place like nothing had happened.

“Nope,” Roman said warmly.

“All good,” Galina added, brushing Joelle’s hair off her shoulder.

They leaned in together as Joelle started talking about the players, the match, the energy — the perfect co‑parenting picture.

Completely unaware that a fan a few rows down lifted their phone…

…and snapped a photo.

Later that afternoon, Liv was curled up on the couch, half‑watching some random show, half‑scrolling through her phone. Her animals were asleep around her, the house quiet, calm, warm.

She wasn’t expecting anything.

She wasn’t looking for anything.

But then she saw it.

A picture.

Posted by a fan at the World Cup.

Roman.

Joelle.

Galina.

All three sitting together in the stands.

Roman leaning slightly toward Joelle.

Galina smiling at something on the field.

Joelle laughing, mid‑sentence.

They looked…

comfortable.

close.

familiar.

Liv’s stomach dropped so fast she actually sat up straight.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, her breath catching.

Why didn’t he tell me he was with her?  

Why didn’t he mention she was there?  

Why did he call me and act like he was alone?

Her chest tightened.

She zoomed in on the picture — Roman’s arm resting behind Joelle, Galina leaning in slightly, the three of them looking like a perfect little unit.

A family.

Liv swallowed hard.

He didn’t lie, she told herself. He just… didn’t tell me everything.

But that didn’t make it hurt less.

Her thoughts spiraled fast:

Does he still care about her?  

Did he not want me to know?  

Am I just… outside of that part of his life?  

Am I stupid for thinking I fit anywhere?

Her eyes burned, her throat tightening. She set her phone down, pressing her palms to her face.

She wasn’t angry.

She wasn’t jealous.

She was hurt.

Deeply.

Because she trusted him.

And he didn’t tell her something that mattered.

She curled her knees up, trying to breathe through the ache in her chest.

That’s how Roman found her.

He walked in hours later, still smelling like stadium air and travel, expecting to see her smiling, expecting to kiss her hello.

Instead, he froze in the doorway.

“Liv?” he said softly. “Baby… what’s wrong?”

She didn’t look at him.

She didn’t move.

She just whispered, voice cracking:

“I saw the picture.”

Roman’s heart dropped.

Roman’s heart sank. He crossed the room slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.

“Okay,” he said gently. “Okay. Let me explain.”

Liv shook her head immediately. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Liv—”

“No.” Her voice cracked. “Roman, you called me. You talked to me. You acted like you were alone.”

Roman swallowed hard. “I wasn’t hiding anything.”

Liv finally looked at him — hurt, confused, spiraling.

“You didn’t tell me you were with her.”

Roman stepped closer. “I told you I was at the World Cup.”

“That’s not the same,” Liv whispered. “You didn’t tell me she was there.”

Roman exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Liv, it wasn’t planned. She and Joelle were already going. I met them there. That’s all.”

Liv’s chest tightened. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Roman hesitated — just long enough to make it worse.

Liv’s voice broke. “Why didn’t you tell me, Roman?”

“Because I knew you’d overthink it,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want you to feel insecure.”

Liv’s eyes filled instantly. “So you lied to protect me?”

“I didn’t lie,” Roman said, voice rising slightly. “I just… didn’t mention it.”

Liv laughed once — a sharp, painful sound. “That’s the same thing.”

Roman stepped closer, reaching for her hand. “Liv, listen to me—”

She pulled away. “No. I don’t want excuses.”

Roman’s jaw tightened. “It’s not an excuse. It’s the truth.”

Liv shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You looked like a family.”

Roman froze.

Liv’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You looked happy.”

Roman’s chest clenched. “Liv, that’s not—”

“And you didn’t tell me,” she said, wiping her face. “You didn’t tell me she was there. You didn’t tell me you were sitting with her. You didn’t tell me anything.”

Roman’s voice cracked for the first time. “Because it didn’t mean anything.”

“It meant something to me,” Liv whispered.

Silence.

Heavy.

Thick.

Breaking.

Roman stepped closer, desperate now. “Liv, please. Let me explain. Let me fix this.”

Liv backed up, shaking her head. “I don’t know if I can hear it right now.”

Roman’s voice dropped to a pleading whisper. “Baby… don’t shut me out.”

Liv looked at him — hurt, scared, overwhelmed.

“I’m not shutting you out,” she said softly. “I’m protecting myself.”

Roman’s face fell.

The argument hung in the air like smoke — heavy, choking, impossible to ignore.

Liv wiped her face, grabbed her keys, and stood up.

Roman’s heart dropped. “Liv… where are you going?”

She didn’t look at him. “I need space.”

“Baby—”

“I’m going to Rhea’s,” she said quietly. “I just… I need to breathe.”

Roman stepped forward, panic flickering across his face. “Liv, please don’t leave like this.”

She shook her head, voice trembling. “I can’t stay here right now. I’ll talk to you later.”

Roman reached for her hand, but she pulled away — not out of anger, but out of hurt.

That hurt cut deeper than anything.

She grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and walked out the door. Roman followed her to the porch, but she didn’t turn around. She got in her car, started the engine, and drove off.

Roman stood there long after her taillights disappeared.

He didn’t go back inside.

He didn’t sit down.

He didn’t try to distract himself.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the one person he knew would understand.

“Yo,” Jimmy answered, voice casual. “You good?”

Roman’s voice cracked. “No. I’m not.”

Jimmy’s tone shifted instantly. “Come over. Now.”

Roman didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his keys, locked the house, and drove straight to Jimmy and Trinity’s place.

When he walked in, Trinity was in the living room, rocking the new baby gently against her chest. She looked up, saw Roman’s face, and her expression softened immediately.

“Oh, Ro…” she whispered. “What happened?”

Roman didn’t trust his voice. He just shook his head.

Jimmy came over, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and guided him inside.

“Sit down, Uce,” Jimmy said quietly. “We’ll figure it out.”

Roman sank onto the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly.

Trinity handed the baby to Jimmy and sat beside Roman, rubbing his back gently.

“Talk to us,” she said softly. “Start from the beginning.”

Roman exhaled shakily.

Roman drew in a shaky breath, knowing the next words out of his mouth would decide everything.

To Be Continued

TAGLIST ❤️

Pair: Sol Ruca X Jevon Evans 

Plot; Sol prepares for her SOWK midterm with help from her boyfriend Jevon, who brings her coffee, snacks, and quizzes her on key terms. She falls asleep studying, and Jevon finishes her notes for her. The next morning, she takes the midterm, using everything he taught her despite her test anxiety. After a tense grading period and a cliffhanger announcement, Sol returns to her dorm and excitedly tells Jevon she passed, and they celebrate together. 

Okay sooo… hi everyone, it’s Isabella 💛 I wrote this little one‑shot while listening to Best Years by 5SOS because honestly… I’m super nervous about my own midterm this week. I’ve been reading nonstop, and I get really bad test anxiety, so writing Sol and Je’Von being soft and supportive kinda helped me calm down a little.

I’m working toward my BSW, so um… yeah… school is kicking my butt right now. But this fic made me feel better, and I hope it gives you a little comfort too.

Thanks for reading, and wish me luck on my midterm 😭💛

@ambreignsfan4life , @uconnlover5 and @teamchasezwrites your requests will be out later in the week when I get ahead of this midterm, I promise I have not forgotten about you. 🥺❤️

The hallway was buzzing with students, backpacks slung over shoulders, everyone half‑awake and half‑stressed. Sol walked beside Jevon, clutching her notebook to her chest while he carried her iced coffee like it was part of his job description.

“You look tired,” Jevon said, nudging her lightly.

Sol groaned. “I am tired. SOWK 270 is actually trying to kill me.”

Jevon laughed under his breath. “You’ll be fine. You’re smart.”

Sol rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed anyway. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he said, bumping her shoulder again, “but I’m still right.”

They reached the classroom door, students already filing in. Sol paused, turning to him.

“You going to the gym?”

“After I walk you in,” Jevon said simply.

Sol smiled — soft, grateful — and stepped inside. Jevon followed her to her seat, placing her iced coffee on the desk before leaning down to whisper:

“You got this.”

She felt her heart flutter.

Before she could respond, the professor walked in, dropping a stack of papers on the desk with dramatic flair.

“Alright, everyone,” he announced, “midterms are this week.”

The entire class groaned.

Sol’s eyes widened. “This week?!”

Jevon smirked from the doorway. “Told you you’d be fine.”

Sol shot him a look that was half panic, half affection.

The professor continued, “Study guides are posted online. You’ll need to review crisis intervention, ethics, and all the models we’ve covered so far.”

Sol sank into her seat, already overwhelmed.

Jevon tapped the doorframe to get her attention.

He mouthed: I’ll help you study.

Sol exhaled, shoulders relaxing just a little.

She mouthed back: Thank you.

Jevon gave her a small smile — the kind that made her feel like everything might actually be okay — before heading down the hallway.

And Sol opened her notebook, already knowing she’d be calling him the second class ended.

The second Sol stepped out of the classroom, she was already scanning the hallway for him. Students poured out around her, complaining about midterms, clutching notebooks, stressing loudly — but she was only looking for one person.

And there he was.

Leaning against the wall, backpack slung over one shoulder, scrolling his phone while waiting for her.

He looked up the moment she approached.

“Hey, baby,” Jevon said, pushing off the wall and walking toward her. “How’d class go?”

Sol groaned dramatically. “Midterms are this week.”

Jevon laughed softly. “Yeah, I figured. You looked stressed when the professor said it.”

She nudged him lightly. “You saw that?”

“I see everything you do,” he said with a little smile.

Sol’s cheeks warmed — but before she could tease him, Jevon’s expression shifted, a tiny hint of apology in his eyes.

“Baby… I said I’d help you study tonight,” he began gently, “but I’m gonna be a little late.”

Sol blinked. “Late? Why?”

Jevon rubbed the back of his neck. “Coach said basketball practice is running longer than usual. We’re prepping for the tournament.”

Sol nodded, trying not to look disappointed. “Oh… okay.”

Jevon stepped closer, hand brushing her arm.

“Hey,” he said softly, “I am still coming. I promise. I’ll be there as soon as practice ends.”

Sol looked up at him, eyes softening. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Jevon said. “I told you I’d help you study. I meant it.”

She exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll start reviewing the study guide.”

Jevon leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“You’re gonna crush this midterm.”

Sol smiled — small, warm, grateful.

“Text me when you’re done?” she asked.

Jevon nodded. “Always.”

He squeezed her hand before heading down the hallway toward the gym, and Sol watched him go, already feeling a little less overwhelmed.

Because even if midterms were this week…

She wasn’t facing them alone.

The campus courtyard was still buzzing when Sol stepped outside, clutching her notebook and trying not to think about the word midterm. She needed caffeine. Immediately.

Her favorite coffee cart sat under a big oak tree, the same one she stopped at almost every day. The barista looked up and smiled when she approached.

“Caramel iced coffee?” he asked, already reaching for the cup.

“You know me too well,” Sol said, handing over a few dollars.

She took the first sip and sighed — sweet, cold, perfect. Exactly what she needed to survive the next few hours.

She headed across campus toward the dorms, weaving through groups of students sprawled on the lawn, some studying, some pretending to study. Her phone buzzed once — a text from Jevon.

I’ll be there as soon as practice ends. Promise.

Sol smiled softly, typing back:

Okay. I’ll start getting everything ready.

She reached her dorm room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The quiet hit her immediately — peaceful, warm, familiar. She set her coffee on her desk and dropped her backpack with a thud.

Then she got to work.

She spread her notes across the desk — pages of crisis intervention models, ethics frameworks, strengths‑based perspective, systems theory. She laid out her highlighters in a neat rainbow line. Her notecards were stacked beside her laptop, ready to be filled.

Her study guide sat open, half‑finished, waiting.

Sol pulled her hair into a messy bun, took another sip of her caramel iced coffee, and whispered to herself:

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

She clicked her pen, opened her laptop, and started highlighting key terms — micro practice, mezzo practice, macro practice, trauma‑informed care, NASW ethics principles.

Her dorm room slowly transformed into a full‑on study zone.

And even though she was nervous…

She felt a little better knowing Jevon would be there later.

Sol was halfway through highlighting her strengths‑based perspective notes when she heard a knock on her dorm door.

She didn’t even have to ask who it was.

Jevon stepped inside, hair still damp from practice, backpack slung over one shoulder. In his hands?

A fresh iced coffee.

A small bag of snacks.

And his favorite hoodie draped over his arm.

Sol’s face lit up instantly.

“You’re here,” she said, relief washing over her.

“Told you I would be,” Jevon replied, setting the coffee on her desk. “Extra caramel. And I got you pretzels and those little chocolate bites you like.”

Sol’s heart melted a little. “You’re actually the best.”

Jevon smiled, then held out the hoodie.

“Here,” he said. “You always get cold when you study.”

Sol looked at it — soft, oversized, warm — and then shook her head quickly.

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

Jevon blinked. “What? Why?”

“If I put that on,” Sol said, pointing at the hoodie like it was dangerous, “I will fall asleep in two minutes.”

Jevon laughed, dropping the hoodie onto her bed instead. “Okay, fair. You do knock out every time you wear it.”

“It’s too comfy,” Sol insisted. “It’s a trap.”

Jevon leaned down, kissed her cheek softly, and whispered:

“Then stay awake for me. We’ve got studying to do.”

Sol smiled, cheeks warm.

He pulled a chair next to her desk, grabbed her stack of notecards, and said:

“Alright, baby. Let’s start with crisis intervention. What’s the first step?”

Sol straightened her posture, took a sip of her fresh iced coffee, and whispered:

“Establishing safety.”

Jevon grinned. “Good. See? You’re already killing it.”

And with her notes spread out, her coffee cold and sweet, and Jevon beside her — she felt like maybe this midterm wasn’t so scary after all.

Jevon pulled his chair closer, flipping through her notecards with one hand while sipping his own coffee with the other. Sol sat cross‑legged on her bed, highlighter tucked behind her ear, caramel iced coffee in her hand.

“Alright,” Jevon said, tapping the first card. “Let’s start with crisis intervention. What’s the first step?”

Sol straightened. “Establishing safety.”

“Good.” He flipped to the next. “Strengths‑based perspective. What’s the main idea?”

Sol smiled tiredly. “Focus on what the client can do, not what they can’t.”

Jevon nodded. “Exactly. You’re killing this.”

He shuffled the cards again.

“Okay… micro, mezzo, macro practice. Go.”

Sol rubbed her eyes. “Micro is individuals… mezzo is groups… macro is communities and systems.”

“Perfect.” Jevon grinned. “See? You’re ready.”

But Sol’s eyelids were already drooping.

He noticed.

“Baby,” he said softly, “you tired?”

“No,” she mumbled, blinking slowly. “I’m fine. Next question.”

Jevon bit back a smile and held up another card.

“Trauma‑informed care. What’s the focus?”

Sol opened her mouth… then closed it… then leaned sideways until her head landed right on Jevon’s shoulder.

He froze for a second, then whispered:

“Yeah… you’re done.”

Sol didn’t respond — she was already asleep, breathing soft and steady.

Jevon set the notecards down, slid an arm under her knees and another behind her back, and gently lifted her. She barely stirred as he placed her under the blankets, tucking them around her shoulders.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispered.

Then he grabbed her laptop, pulled her notes closer, and slipped on his glasses — the ones he only wore when he was focusing hard.

He cracked his knuckles.

“Alright,” he murmured, “let’s get you ready for this midterm.”

He started typing:

Clean, organized definitions

Highlighted key concepts

Crisis intervention steps

Strengths‑based perspective summaries

Systems theory breakdown

Micro/mezzo/macro practice examples

Ethics principles she kept mixing up

Trauma‑informed care reminders

He rewrote messy sections, added vocabulary lists, and even made a “Key Things to Remember” page at the end.

Every few minutes, he glanced over at her — asleep, peaceful, safe.

Jevon smiled softly.

“You’re gonna crush this,” he whispered, turning back to her notes.

And he kept working — quietly, carefully — until everything she needed was ready for her in the morning.

Sol blinked awake slowly, the morning light slipping through her dorm curtains. Her blanket was tucked around her shoulders, her laptop closed neatly on her desk, her notes stacked in perfect order.

For a second, she was confused.

Then she saw it.

Her study guide — completely finished.

Her vocabulary list — rewritten neatly.

Her “Key Things to Remember” page — highlighted and organized.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Jevon…?”

Right on cue, her door opened.

Jevon stepped inside, wearing sweats and a soft smile, carrying a small tray with breakfast — a warm bagel, fruit, and a fresh iced caramel coffee.

“Morning, baby,” he said gently. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Sol’s heart melted.

“You… did all of this?” she asked, voice still groggy.

Jevon set the tray on her desk. “Yeah. You were exhausted. I figured you needed sleep more than anything.”

Sol looked at the notes again — the clean handwriting, the organized sections, the highlighted terms she kept forgetting.

“You fixed everything,” she whispered. “Jevon… this is perfect.”

He shrugged lightly, sitting beside her on the bed. “I just wanted you to feel ready.”

Sol leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. He held her just as gently, rubbing her back once before pulling away to hand her the coffee.

“Drink,” he said. “You’ve got a big day.”

Sol took a sip — sweet, cold, perfect — then looked up at him with soft eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

Jevon brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Always.”

She leaned in and kissed him gently — soft, quick, warm — the kind of kiss that said I appreciate you more than you know.

Jevon smiled, thumb brushing her cheek.

“You ready?”

Sol grabbed her backpack, her notes, and her coffee.

“I think I am,” she said. “Because of you.”

Jevon walked her to the door, squeezing her hand once before she stepped out.

“Go crush that midterm.”

Sol smiled — confident now, steady — and headed down the hallway.

Sol walked into the classroom with her backpack slung over one shoulder, her caramel iced coffee in hand, and Jevon’s words replaying in her mind:

You’re gonna crush this.  

I’m proud of you.  

You’re ready.

She sat down, heart already pounding. Test anxiety always hit her hard — the tight chest, the shaky hands, the feeling like every answer she ever learned suddenly vanished.

The professor handed out the midterms.

“Remember,” he said, “no one leaves until all tests are graded.”

Sol swallowed hard.

She flipped her test over and started with the questions she knew immediately:

Crisis intervention steps

Strengths‑based perspective

Micro/mezzo/macro practice

Trauma‑informed care

NASW ethics principles

Her hand moved quickly, confidence building with each answer.

Then she hit the harder ones.

She paused…

Closed her eyes…

And remembered everything Jevon highlighted last night.

His handwriting.

His notes.

His voice telling her she could do this.

She took a deep breath and kept going.

Her anxiety spiked halfway through — her chest tightening, her leg bouncing under the desk — but she pushed through, answering each question carefully, slowly, just like Jevon told her to.

Finally, she finished.

The professor collected the tests and sat at his desk to grade them while the entire class waited in tense silence.

Sol’s heart hammered.

Her palms were sweaty.

She kept replaying her answers, second‑guessing everything.

After what felt like forever, the professor stood.

“Alright,” he said, “I’ve finished grading.”

Everyone leaned forward.

“The highest grade goes to…”

The room held its breath.

Sol’s stomach dropped.

Her heart stopped.

And—

Sol practically sprinted down the hallway, her backpack bouncing behind her. She burst into her dorm room, breathless, eyes wide.

Jevon was already there — sitting on her bed, hoodie on, scrolling his phone while waiting for her.

He looked up immediately.

“Baby? How’d it go?”

Sol’s face broke into the biggest smile.

“Jevon,” she said, voice shaking with excitement, “guess what?”

He stood, stepping closer. “What?”

“I passed,” she said, practically glowing. “I passed my midterm.”

Jevon’s entire face lit up.

“Baby—” he grabbed her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground in a tight hug, “I KNEW you would!”

Sol laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You helped me so much,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jevon set her down gently, hands still on her waist, forehead resting against hers.

“I’m proud of you,” he said softly. “So proud.”

Sol kissed him — gentle, warm, grateful — the kind of kiss that said thank you for believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.

They spent the rest of the afternoon celebrating — snacks, music, laughter, and Sol finally relaxing for the first time all week.

And Jevon?

He never stopped smiling.

The End 

TAGLIST

i would love to see you write there first interaction with each other

like you know how liv wins money in the bank then wins the smackdown title.

i was thinking that both liv and roman have always know each other but maybe the first smackdown after she cashed in and won they have like there first real conversation.

it’s just an idea! and i love your writing!!

Pair: Damien Priest X Cathy Kelly 

Plot: At Fanatics Fest, Cathy Kelley finds herself hanging out with a chaotic mix of WWE stars when a giant snake unexpectedly becomes part of the fun. Despite her fear, she pushes through with the group’s encouragement — and one person’s reaction catches her off guard. Later that night, Cathy visits Damian Priest for casual drinks, only to discover the evening isn’t nearly as casual as she expected. A flustered confession, a surprising truth, and a perfectly‑timed interruption leave both of them with more to think about than they planned. 

Okay sooo… this one‑shot is literally me being unhinged at Fanatics Fest in my brain and then @teamchasezwrites dropping the idea that sent me spiraling into “oh wait… I HAVE to write this.” So huge shoutout to them because without that spark, this whole chaotic snake situation would not exist.

Cathy Kelley + a giant snake + the WWE crew reacting like absolute menaces? Yeah, I had way too much fun with this. And yes, I wrote the entire thing while listening to “Crush” by Tessa Violet because the vibes were too perfect for Cathy’s flustered meltdown energy.

Anyway, enjoy the chaos, the awkwardness, and the soft little moments sprinkled in 🥺❤️😁💕

Cathy Kelley wandered through Fanatics Fest, just enjoying the chaos. She spotted a whole cluster of wrestlers hanging out near one of the booths:

LA Knight leaning on a table like he owned the building

Rhea Ripley sipping an energy drink

Damian Priest arms crossed, looking effortlessly cool

Kevin Owens and Royce arguing about something dumb

Solo Sikoa, arms folded, trying to look intimidating

Cathy walked over, smiling. “You guys look like trouble.”

Knight: “YEAH. Always.”

Rhea: “Come hang with us, Kel.”

Everything was normal… until a handler walked over holding a huge snake.

Cathy froze.

Rhea lit up. “Oh hell yeah, bring it here.”

Knight: “YEAH, Mami ain’t scared of nothin’.”

Damian smirked, watching Rhea handle the snake like it was a puppy.

And Solo?

Solo took one look at the snake…

His eyes went wide…

And he took three steps back like the snake had a gun.

Kevin Owens: “Solo, where you going?”

Solo: “Nah. Nope. I’m good.”

Rhea laughed. “Big scary enforcer, terrified of a noodle.”

Solo pointed at the snake without looking directly at it. “That thing is unnatural.”

Knight: “YEAH, Solo’s tapping out.”

Cathy watched Rhea hold the snake with zero fear… and then Damian turned to her with that teasing smirk.

“You scared?” he asked.

Cathy swallowed.

She absolutely was.

But she also absolutely did NOT want to look weak in front of Damian Priest.

And that’s where the trouble starts.

Rhea was still letting the snake drape across her shoulders like it was a fashion accessory. Cathy watched her with wide eyes, trying to convince herself she could do it too.

Solo stood a full six feet back, arms out like he was keeping an invisible barrier between himself and the reptile.

Solo: “I’m telling you, that thing is unnatural.”

Kevin Owens: “It’s literally just a snake.”

Solo: “Exactly.”

LA Knight stepped forward, grinning.

Knight: “YEAH, hand that thing over. Let me see what all the fuss is about.”

The handler placed the snake across Knight’s arms.

Knight lit up like a kid at Christmas.

Knight: “This is COOL, dude.”

He turned in a slow circle so everyone could see.

Knight: “YEAH, look at me. I’m basically a Disney villain.”

Rhea snorted. “You wish.”

Royce stepped forward next, curious.

Royce: “Alright, my turn.”

Knight carefully transferred the snake to him.

Royce held it like he’d been doing this his whole life.

Royce: “It’s actually kinda soft.”

Solo: “Stop talking to it like it’s a pet.”

Damian watched all of this with that slow, amused smirk — then his eyes slid back to Cathy.

“You’re up,” he said.

Cathy’s stomach dropped.

Everyone else had done it.

Even Royce.

Even LA Knight.

Solo was the only one refusing — and she was NOT about to be in Solo’s category.

She straightened her shoulders, trying to look braver than she felt.

“Okay,” she said. “I can do it.”

Damian stepped closer, voice low.

“You sure?”

Cathy nodded, even though she absolutely wasn’t.

The handler lifted the snake toward her.

Cathy reached out—

And the snake moved.

Just a tiny shift.

Barely anything.

But Cathy jumped like she’d been electrocuted.

“NOPE—NOPE—NOPE—NOPE—NOPE—”

Rhea burst out laughing.

Knight doubled over.

Kevin Owens clapped once like he’d just seen the funniest thing in his life.

Damian tried — and failed — to hide his smile.

Cathy, flustered and red‑faced, pointed at the one person she thought might save her.

“Hey, uh… Solo. You do it first.”

The entire group froze.

Solo’s eyes went wide with betrayal.

“Me?” he said, voice cracking. “Why me?!”

Knight: “YEAH, Cathy just sacrificed Solo to the snake gods.”

Rhea: “Kel, he’s the LAST person who’s gonna touch that thing.”

Solo backed up another three feet.

“Absolutely not. I’m not going near that demon rope.”

Cathy groaned, covering her face.

“Okay, fine, I panicked!”

Damian stepped closer, gently lowering her hands from her face.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “Just breathe.”

And Cathy tried — she really did — but the snake was still right there, and Solo was still hiding behind Kevin Owens like a child.

The handler lifted the snake toward her again.

Cathy reached out—

The snake shifted.

She flinched, but this time she didn’t jump away.

She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaled sharply, and forced herself to keep her hand steady.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay… okay, I’m doing it.”

The handler smiled. “You’re braver than you look.”

Cathy’s eyes snapped open.

“Wait—what does that mean?!”

Rhea cackled.

Knight slapped his knee.

Kevin Owens muttered, “Oh he’s smooth, look at him.”

Solo: “I hate this. I hate all of this.”

The handler gently placed the snake across Cathy’s arms.

She froze.

Her shoulders locked.

Her breath caught.

But she didn’t drop it.

She didn’t scream.

She didn’t run.

She held the snake.

Everyone cheered.

Rhea: “Look at you, Kel!”

Knight: “YEAH, Cathy Kelley conquering her fears!”

Royce: “She did better than Solo.”

Solo: “I DIDN’T EVEN TRY!”

Cathy was still frozen, staring at the snake like it might suddenly start talking.

The handler leaned in with a grin.

“See? You’re a natural. Snakes like calm people.”

Cathy blinked. “I’m not calm.”

The handler winked. “You look calm.”

Cathy’s face went bright red.

And that’s when she noticed Damian.

He wasn’t laughing.

He wasn’t teasing.

He wasn’t smirking.

He was watching her with this… look.

Not romantic.

Not flirty.

Just… surprised.

Impressed.

Curious.

A look that made Cathy’s stomach flip.

She swallowed hard.

What was that?  

Why did he look at me like that?  

Did he notice I was trying to impress him?  

Oh no oh no oh no—

Damian finally spoke.

“Good job, Kel.”

Just simple.

Soft.

Genuine.

And Cathy nearly dropped the snake.

Cathy held the snake for a full ten seconds — which, in her mind, felt like ten years — before she finally exhaled and said:

“Okay—okay—please take it back now.”

The handler gently lifted the snake from her arms. Cathy stepped back so fast she nearly bumped into LA Knight.

Rhea threw her arms up.

“YASSS QUEEN!”

Knight: “YEAH, Cathy Kelley conquering her fears!”

Kevin Owens: “Honestly? I didn’t think you’d do it.”

Royce: “Way braver than Solo.”

Solo: “I DIDN’T EVEN TRY! Stop comparing me!”

Cathy laughed, cheeks still pink, adrenaline still buzzing through her veins. She felt proud. She felt shaky. She felt like she might pass out.

And then the handler — still smiling — said:

“You did great. Most people don’t handle their first snake that well.”

Cathy blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really. You’ve got a steady touch.”

Cathy’s face went red again.

Rhea elbowed Knight. “Oh he’s flirting.”

Knight: “YEAH, he’s shooting his shot.”

Solo: “I hate this entire situation.”

Cathy was about to say something — anything — when she felt someone step closer.

Damian.

He didn’t say anything out loud.

He didn’t make a scene.

He didn’t tease her.

He just leaned in slightly, voice low enough that only she could hear:

“Hey… you wanna swing by my place for drinks later?”

Cathy’s heart stopped.

Her brain short‑circuited.

Her crush went into full meltdown mode.

She turned her head just enough to look at him — and he wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t teasing.

He looked… casual.

Normal.

Like he asked her that all the time.

But he didn’t know.

He didn’t know she liked him.

He didn’t know she was spiraling.

Cathy swallowed hard.

“Uh… yeah,” she said softly. “Sure.”

Damian nodded once, like it was no big deal, and stepped back into the group.

But Cathy?

She was already replaying that whisper in her head a thousand times.

Cathy practically speed‑walked to the nearest restroom the second she handed the snake back. She shut the door behind her, leaned against the counter, and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her heart was still racing.

Her cheeks were still pink.

Her brain was still replaying Damian’s whisper on a loop.

“You wanna swing by my place for drinks later?”

She covered her face with both hands.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t. He couldn’t. He doesn’t know. He can’t know.”

She splashed water on her face, trying to calm down, trying to breathe, trying not to pass out from sheer crush‑induced adrenaline.

Meanwhile, back with the group—

Rhea watched Damian with narrowed eyes.

Knight was still hyping Cathy up.

Kevin Owens was teasing Solo.

Royce was scrolling through photos.

But Rhea?

She was locked in on Damian.

Finally she stepped closer, arms crossed.

“Okay, Priest,” she said. “What was that?”

Damian blinked. “What was what?”

Rhea tilted her head. “Don’t play dumb. You never look at anybody like that.”

Damian frowned slightly. “Like what?”

Rhea pointed toward the direction Cathy had gone.

“Like you were about to murder that handler for flirting with her.”

Knight turned around. “YEAH, you did look kinda mad, brother.”

Kevin Owens nodded. “You definitely glared.”

Solo peeked from behind him. “I saw it too. It was scary.”

Damian scoffed, looking away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really?”

Damian shrugged, trying to look casual.

“Really.”

But Rhea didn’t buy it.

Not for a second.

She smirked.

“Uh‑huh. Sure. Whatever you say.”

Damian didn’t respond — just folded his arms and stared off like he wasn’t thinking about Cathy at all.

But Rhea knew better.

And Cathy?

She was still in the bathroom trying to convince herself she hadn’t imagined everything.

Cathy stood outside Damian’s apartment door for a full ten seconds before knocking. She had spent the entire drive over trying to calm herself down, but her brain was still replaying that whisper from earlier.

“You wanna swing by my place for drinks later?”

She knocked lightly.

Damian opened the door almost immediately.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “Come in.”

Cathy stepped inside, trying not to look like she was about to pass out. Her cheeks were warm, her hands were fidgety, and she could feel her heartbeat in her ears.

Damian noticed instantly.

“What’s wrong, Cathy?” he asked, closing the door behind her. “You flustered or something?”

Cathy froze.

“I—uh—no—I mean—yes—maybe—kind of—”

Damian raised an eyebrow, amused but gentle.

“You sure?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her brain was a blank screen. Her crush was screaming. Her nerves were doing cartwheels.

Damian watched her for a moment, then exhaled softly.

“You know what I think?” he said, voice calm, not teasing, not smug — just matter‑of‑fact.

Cathy swallowed. “What?”

Damian leaned back against the counter, arms crossed casually.

“I think you’ve had a little crush on me for a while.”

Cathy’s entire soul left her body.

Her eyes went wide.

Her breath caught.

Her face went bright red.

Damian didn’t look mocking.

He didn’t look flirty.

He didn’t look smug.

He looked… knowing.

Like he’d put the pieces together a long time ago and was only now saying it out loud.

He shrugged lightly.

“I’m not stupid,” he said. “I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to start showing it.”

Cathy’s heart dropped straight into her shoes.

She had no idea what to say.

No idea what to do.

No idea how to breathe.

She just stood there, staring at him, completely undone.

Her entire brain shut down.

She blinked once.

Twice.

Then she turned toward the door.

“I—uh—I should go,” she blurted, already reaching for the handle. “I didn’t mean— I mean— I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry—”

Damian stepped forward quickly but gently, reaching out and catching her arm — not tight, not forceful, just enough to stop her from running out the door in full panic mode.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly. “Cathy… just come in.”

She froze, staring at his hand on her arm, then up at him.

Damian’s voice stayed calm, steady, warm.

“We can talk, okay?”

Cathy swallowed hard.

Her cheeks were burning.

Her thoughts were a mess.

“I just— I didn’t want you to think I was weird,” she whispered.

Damian shook his head.

“I don’t think you’re weird.”

Cathy looked down, embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Damian gently guided her back inside, closing the door behind her.

“Cathy,” he said again, softer this time. “It’s okay. Really.”

She didn’t know what to say.

She didn’t know what to do.

She didn’t know how to breathe.

But she let him lead her further into the apartment, her nerves buzzing, her crush screaming, her mind spinning.

And Damian?

He looked calm.

Patient.

Like he wasn’t upset.

Like he wasn’t confused.

Like he wasn’t bothered at all.

Just… ready to talk.

Cathy let Damian guide her further into the apartment, but her nerves were still buzzing. She sat on the edge of his couch, hands twisting together, eyes fixed on the floor.

Damian sat across from her, elbows resting on his knees, voice soft.

“Talk to me, Cathy.”

She swallowed hard.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want you to think I was… I don’t know. Being unprofessional. Or awkward. Or—”

Damian shook his head immediately.

“You’re not awkward.”

Cathy’s cheeks warmed. “I just… I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what?”

She hesitated, breath catching.

“That I… like you.”

The words came out small, fragile, terrified.

Cathy looked away, embarrassed. “I didn’t want to ruin anything. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I didn’t want—”

Damian gently cut her off.

“Cathy.”

She looked up.

He wasn’t teasing.

He wasn’t smirking.

He wasn’t confused.

He looked calm.

Warm.

Honest.

“I have a crush on you too.”

Cathy froze.

“What?”

Damian leaned back slightly, giving her space but keeping his voice steady.

“I’ve liked you for a while. I just didn’t want to push you. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Cathy’s breath hitched.

“You… you did?”

Damian nodded once. “Yeah.”

The room felt suddenly smaller.

Quieter.

Softer.

Cathy’s heart was pounding, but she wasn’t panicking anymore. She was just… overwhelmed in the best way.

Damian shifted a little closer — slow, gentle, careful — giving her every chance to pull back.

She didn’t.

Their faces were close now.

Close enough that Cathy could feel his breath.

Close enough that her eyes flicked down for half a second.

Damian’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Cathy…”

She leaned in just a little—

And then her phone lit up loudly on the table.

RHEA RIPLEY — CALLING

Damian blinked.

Cathy groaned, dropping her forehead into her hands.

“Of course it’s Rhea,” she muttered.

Damian laughed softly, leaning back but still close enough that Cathy felt warm all over.

“You gonna answer it?”

Cathy peeked up at him, flustered and smiling.

“I really don’t want to.”

Damian’s smile widened.

“Then don’t.”

The phone kept ringing.

The moment lingered.

And Cathy’s heart kept racing — for a completely different reason no

The End

TAGLIST

Pair: Charlotte flair X Cody Rhodes 

Plot: In the chaotic lead‑up to SummerSlam, tensions between Cody Rhodes and CM Punk reach a breaking point on SmackDown. When Charlotte Flair unexpectedly steps into the feud, the night spirals into a storm of alliances, betrayals, and brutal consequences. As the violence escalates in the main event, loyalties are tested, lines are crossed, and one shocking return changes everything. Backstage, emotions run high as Cody, Charlotte, and Brandi confront the fallout — only for Hunter to warn that the worst is still to come.

Okay so… this entire one‑shot was powered by “Way Down We Go” by Kaleo because that song has the exact sinking, dramatic, “oh things are about to get BAD” energy this storyline needed. I swear the second the beat dropped, my brain said yes, Cody shielding Charlotte from chair shots, that’s the vibe.

Also, I fully blame Charlotte Flair at Fanatics Fest for this idea. She said one little thing — ONE — and my imagination took off like it had somewhere to be. So this is what happened when I let my brain run wild with that quote and the current WWE chaos. No spoilers, but just know… it gets messy.

Hope you enjoy the drama. 💕🥺❤️

Fanatics Fest 2026 was buzzing, cameras everywhere, fans packed shoulder‑to‑shoulder — and Charlotte Flair sat at her table like she owned the entire building. When someone asked her, “What are three things you haven’t done in your career that you still want to do?” she didn’t even hesitate.

She smiled — that confident, knowing Charlotte Flair smile — and said:

“Number fifteen is definitely on the list. I’m coming for that. But honestly? I’ve never been part of a romantic storyline. I’ve never been paired opposite a male character, and I think that could be… interesting. Something new. And I’ve never led a group. The Four Horsewomen were iconic, but we were individuals. I mean, I was number one, obviously.”

She laughed, but the room felt it — she wasn’t joking.

She was manifesting.

Charlotte Flair arrived at the arena with her usual confidence — sunglasses on, coffee in hand, already mentally preparing for whatever SmackDown chaos she’d be thrown into.

She didn’t even make it ten steps before a production assistant rushed up to her.

“Charlotte? Creative needs you. Now.”

She blinked. “I just got here.”

“Yeah. They said immediately.”

That was never a good sign.

Charlotte followed the assistant down the hallway, past crew members whispering about the escalating Punk vs. Rhodes feud, past monitors replaying last week’s confrontation, past talent who looked like they were bracing for a storm.

The assistant opened the conference room door.

Cody Rhodes was already inside.

He looked… stressed.

Like “I haven’t slept in three days and I think everyone is plotting against me” stressed.

Charlotte stepped in slowly. “Um… hi? What am I doing here?”

Hunter was at the head of the table, arms crossed, expression tight.

“Charlotte,” he said, “we’ve got a situation.”

Cody let out a humorless laugh. “Understatement.”

Hunter continued, “Punk and Cody is escalating faster than we expected. Cody’s convinced everyone is turning on him—”

“I’m not paranoid,” Cody snapped. “I’m cautious.”

Hunter ignored him. “We need someone on his side. Someone who can balance this out on TV.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “And that’s… me?”

Hunter nodded. “We need a woman in this story. A strong presence. Someone who can stand next to Cody without getting overshadowed.”

Cody rubbed his face. “This is insane.”

Hunter leaned forward. “AJ Lee is coming back. Nobody knows yet. And when she shows up, this feud is going to explode. We need you in place before that happens.”

Charlotte stared at him. “So you’re telling me the next two weeks before SummerSlam are going to be the craziest of my career?”

Hunter didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

Cody groaned. “Fantastic.”

Charlotte crossed her arms, smirk tugging at her lips. “Well… I did say I wanted a romantic storyline.”

Cody’s head snapped up. “Wait—what?”

Hunter sighed. “Oh boy.”

Cody looked at Hunter like he was begging for a lifeline.

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Hunter didn’t even blink. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, completely confident.

“Absolutely it’ll work.”

Cody stared at him like he’d just heard the worst news of his life.

Hunter continued, “Rhodes, come on. Your whole character right now is paranoid. You think everyone’s turning on you. You’re unraveling on TV.”

Cody opened his mouth to argue — Hunter cut him off.

“And you know what people LOVE?” Hunter said, tapping the table for emphasis. “When a woman can calm her man down. Seriously. It’ll work.”

Charlotte raised a brow, amused. Cody looked like he was about to pass out.

Hunter pointed between them. “You two together on screen? Instant balance. Instant story. Instant heat.”

Cody rubbed his forehead. “This is insane.”

Charlotte smirked. “I think it’s fun.”

Hunter nodded. “Exactly. And with AJ Lee coming back — which nobody knows yet — this feud is about to blow up. We need you in place before she hits TV.”

Cody groaned. “This is going to be the craziest two weeks before SummerSlam ever.”

Charlotte shrugged, smiling. “Guess we better make it good.”

The SmackDown crowd was already electric, buzzing with SummerSlam energy, when CM Punk’s music hit. He walked to the ring with that slow, deliberate swagger — the kind that meant he was about to start trouble.

Joe Tessitore: “Punk looks like he’s got something on his mind tonight.”

Wade Barrett: “When doesn’t he?”

Punk grabbed a mic, pacing like a man winding himself up.

“Cody Rhodes,” he said, voice sharp. “Get out here. Now.”

The crowd roared.

Cody’s music hit.

He walked down the ramp tense, jaw tight, eyes locked on Punk.

Punk didn’t wait.

“You wanna talk about ego?” Punk said. “You wanna talk about paranoia? You think everyone’s turning on you? You think the world revolves around you?”

Cody’s nostrils flared.

Punk stepped closer. “Sami Zayn said it best — you’re the golden boy. The chosen one. The guy who thinks he’s owed everything.”

The crowd gasped.

Joe Tessitore: “Punk is not holding back tonight.”

Wade Barrett: “He never does.”

Punk smirked. “Nobody in this company has a bigger ego than Cody Rhodes. Nobody.”

Cody opened his mouth to respond—

And then—

WOOOOOOO.

Charlotte Flair’s music hit.

The arena EXPLODED.

Joe Tessitore: “Wait—WHAT?!”

Wade Barrett: “Why is Charlotte Flair out here?! What does she have to do with Punk and Cody?!”

Charlotte walked out like she owned the entire building, chin high, eyes locked on the ring. She didn’t look confused. She didn’t look lost. She looked like she had a purpose.

Punk turned toward the ramp, eyebrows raised.

Cody looked stunned.

Charlotte stepped into the ring, heels clicking, staring down both men like she was about to rewrite the entire storyline.

Joe Tessitore: “I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Wade Barrett: “If Charlotte Flair is involved… this just became a whole different fight.”

Punk stared at Charlotte like she’d walked into the wrong fight.

“What are you even doing out here?” he asked, voice dripping with condescension.

Charlotte didn’t hesitate. She stepped right beside Cody, slid her arm through his, and lifted her chin like she owned the entire arena.

“Well,” she said, “I’m out here to tell you that at SummerSlam… I’ll be in my man’s corner.”

The crowd LOST IT.

Joe Tessitore: “CHARLOTTE JUST SAID WHAT?!”

Wade Barrett: “Cody Rhodes has a Flair in his corner? Punk is gonna explode.”

Punk blinked, then laughed — sharp, mocking.

“Oh, that’s cute,” he said. “Cody Rhodes needs a Flair to hold his hand.”

Charlotte smirked, leaning in just enough to make it sting.

“No, Punk. Cody doesn’t need me. I chose him. Something you’re not used to — people choosing you.”

The crowd GASPED.

Punk’s smile vanished.

He stepped forward, jaw tight, eyes locked on Charlotte like he was ready to snap.

Cody moved instantly — stepping in front of her, blocking Punk’s path.

“Back up,” Cody warned.

Punk didn’t. He shoved Cody hard — a hit meant for Charlotte — sending Cody stumbling back into the ropes.

Charlotte reached for him, steadying him.

Punk pointed at her, breathing hard.

“You’re gonna regret getting into this.”

He dropped the mic and slid out of the ring, never taking his eyes off her.

Joe Tessitore: “Punk just made this personal.”

Wade Barrett: “And Charlotte Flair does NOT back down from personal.”

Charlotte stayed beside Cody, arm still hooked in his, staring Punk down as he walked up the ramp — the entire arena buzzing because everyone knew this feud had just become something completely different.

Cody and Charlotte were walking down the hallway together — close, comfortable, very much selling the new storyline — when Cathy Kelley stepped into frame with a mic.

“Cody,” she said, “can I get a quick word?”

Cody stopped, Charlotte beside him, still linked at the arm from earlier.

“What’s up, Cathy?” he asked.

Cathy nodded. “I wanted to get your thoughts on your match with Punk later tonight.”

Cody blinked. “My match with Punk?”

Cathy nodded again, a little apologetic. “Yeah. Acting GM Adam Pearce just made it official. You and Punk in the main event.”

Cody turned to Charlotte immediately, instinctively.

“Are you gonna be out there with me, babe?”

Charlotte didn’t miss a beat — she leaned in, kissed his cheek (exactly as scripted), and smiled.

“Yeah,” she said. “You know the Queen’s got your back… and a few tricks up her sleeve.”

Cody smirked, tension easing just a little.

Cathy raised her brows, clearly intrigued. “Well… good luck tonight. Looks like things just got even more interesting.”

Charlotte squeezed Cody’s arm, guiding him down the hallway as the camera followed them for a moment — the new pairing already buzzing through the arena.

The bell rang and the crowd was already electric.

Joe Tessitore: “This is a massive main event — Cody Rhodes versus CM Punk!”

Wade Barrett: “And Charlotte Flair is at ringside. Punk hates that.”

The match started clean — chain wrestling, stiff strikes, near falls.

Every time Cody stumbled, Charlotte slapped the mat and rallied the crowd.

Then Punk rolled out of the ring…

And grabbed a steel chair.

Joe Tessitore: “Oh come on!”

Wade Barrett: “Punk’s about to get himself disqualified!”

Punk slid back in, chair raised—

Charlotte stormed onto the apron, ripped the chair out of his hands, and SCREAMED:

“I’m the QUEEN, bitch!”

The crowd LOST IT.

Joe Tessitore: “CHARLOTTE FLAIR IS UNHINGED TONIGHT!”

Wade Barrett: “Punk is about to snap!”

Charlotte raised the chair to swing—

And then—

AJ LEE appeared out of nowhere behind her.

No music.

No warning.

Just pure chaos.

AJ grabbed Charlotte by the hair and SLAMMED her face‑first into the ring post.

The crowd SCREAMED.

Joe Tessitore: “AJ LEE JUST ATTACKED CHARLOTTE! NO MUSIC! NO ANNOUNCEMENT!”

Wade Barrett: “She came out like a ghost!”

Charlotte crumpled to the floor.

Cody screamed, “HEY!” and ran toward her—

But Punk grabbed him, hit GTS, and covered.

1! 2! 3!

Punk won.

Joe Tessitore: “PUNK STOLE IT! AJ LEE JUST CHANGED EVERYTHING!”

Wade Barrett: “Charlotte Flair never saw her coming!”

AJ dragged Charlotte by the hair and threw her into the ring like a trophy.

Punk picked up the chair Charlotte had taken from him…

And cracked Cody across the back.

AJ grabbed a second chair and hit Cody too, laughing.

Joe Tessitore: “This is disgusting!”

Wade Barrett: “Punk and AJ are dismantling Cody Rhodes!”

Cody crawled toward Charlotte, dazed, desperate.

AJ smirked, circling Charlotte like a predator.

She lifted the chair—

And aimed it directly at Charlotte’s bad leg.

Joe Tessitore: “NO—NOT THE LEG!”

Wade Barrett: “AJ LEE IS TARGETING CHARLOTTE’S INJURY!”

AJ swung—

And Cody THREW HIMSELF OVER CHARLOTTE, covering her body with his, taking the full chair shot across his spine.

The crowd ERUPTED.

Joe Tessitore: “CODY RHODES IS SHIELDING CHARLOTTE FLAIR!”

Wade Barrett: “He’s taking the beating FOR her!”

AJ hit him again.

And again.

Punk stomped him while he covered Charlotte, refusing to move.

Charlotte screamed his name, trying to push him away — he wouldn’t budge.

Finally Punk and AJ backed off, satisfied.

Punk pointed at Charlotte beneath Cody’s arms.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he said coldly.

They left the ring, leaving Cody bruised, Charlotte shaken, and the entire arena buzzing because the feud had just become personal.

Cody and Charlotte limped through the curtain, both bruised, both shaken, both still buzzing from the chaos AJ and Punk unleashed.

Crew members rushed toward them, but Cody waved them off, keeping one arm around Charlotte’s waist to steady her.

Brandi Rhodes hurried over, eyes wide with worry.

“Cody!” she said, grabbing his face and checking him for damage. “Are you okay?”

Cody pulled her into a hug, kissing her quickly — a real, grounding moment after the chaos.

Charlotte stepped back, giving them space, suddenly unsure if she should even be there.

Brandi turned toward her.

And smiled.

“Well,” Brandi said, hands on her hips, “if you two are gonna keep throwing yourselves in front of chairs, I’m gonna need hazard pay.”

Charlotte let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding — the joke hitting exactly where she needed it.

“Sorry,” Charlotte said softly. “I didn’t mean to—”

Brandi waved her off. “Girl, please. It’s wrestling. And you looked like a badass out there.”

Charlotte actually laughed — tension melting off her shoulders.

Cody squeezed Charlotte’s arm. “Told you she’d be cool with it.”

Before Charlotte could respond, Hunter walked into frame, arms crossed, expression tight.

“Good,” he said, looking between all three of them. “Because it’s about to get worse.”

Charlotte’s smile faded.

Cody straightened.

Brandi blinked. “Worse how?”

Hunter didn’t answer.

He just stared at them — the weight of whatever was coming hanging in the air like a storm.

The End

TAGLIST

Pair: Liv Morgan X Roman Reigns 

Plot; After the SummerSlam Kickoff Show leaves Liv Morgan jumpy and convinced the Minihaussens are still lurking, she and secretly‑dating Roman Reigns head back to their hotel. But when the elevator breaks down, the lights go out, and the whole thing lurches, Liv panics hard — and Roman does everything he can to steady her. As they wait in the dark, the elevator drops again, forcing Roman to pull Liv up and keep her safe. When the doors are finally pried open, Jimmy Uso — the only one who knows about their relationship — finds them tangled together and immediately cracks a joke, leaving Liv and Roman trying (and failing) to act normal.

Okay so this one was pure chaos and vibes. I had “Stuck With U” by Ariana Grande and Justin Bieber stuck in my head the whole time, and it just FIT Roman and Liv getting trapped in an elevator way too perfectly. Liv freaking out, Roman trying to act like he’s not secretly her boyfriend, Jimmy being the only one with a brain cell… yeah, that’s my brand. Hope y’all enjoy this little elevator disaster. 🥺😊❤️💕

Liv Morgan was still muttering under her breath as she stormed through the hotel lobby, hoodie half‑zipped, eyes darting around like she expected a Minihaussen to leap out from behind the decorative ficus.

Roman Reigns followed behind her, hands in his pockets, wearing the exact expression of a man who’d spent the last hour watching his girlfriend get chased by tiny gremlins on live TV.

“Liv,” he said, voice low and amused, “they’re not here.”

“You don’t know that,” she hissed, spinning around so fast her ponytail smacked her shoulder. “They were everywhere tonight. Everywhere. I swear one of them crawled under the announce desk.”

Roman raised a brow. “Crawled?”

“Crawled, Roman. Like a little demon.”

He chuckled — quietly, the way he only did when it was just the two of them — and pressed the elevator button. “You’re dramatic.”

“I’m traumatized,” Liv corrected, crossing her arms. “There were too many of them. They multiply. Like those foam dinosaurs you put in water.”

Roman stepped closer, leaning down just enough that only she could hear him. “You know… for someone who kicked three of them away like soccer balls, you’re awfully scared.”

Liv glared. “I wasn’t scared.”

“You screamed.”

“I yelled.”

“You screamed,” he repeated, smirking.

Liv shoved his arm. “Shut up.”

Roman’s smirk deepened — the one he only ever gave her. “I’m just saying… I’ve never seen you run that fast.”

Liv pointed at him. “You weren’t the one being hunted.”

Roman opened his mouth to tease her again—

The elevator dinged.

They stepped inside, Roman hitting their floor.

Liv exhaled. “Okay. Safe zone. No Minihaussens.”

Roman leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “If one shows up in here, I’m breaking up with you.”

Liv gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” he said, deadpan. “I’m not fighting a gremlin in an elevator.”

Liv shoved him again — but she was smiling now.

The doors slid shut.

The elevator jolted.

Hard.

Liv grabbed Roman’s arm instantly. “Roman?!”

The lights flickered.

The elevator stopped.

Roman looked at the ceiling, then the control panel, then at Liv — who was already spiraling.

“Roman,” she whispered, “tell me a Minihaussen didn’t cut the wires.”

Roman closed his eyes. “Morgan… please.”

The elevator hummed for a second… then everything went black.

Not dim.

Not flickering.

Black.

Liv’s breath hitched so sharply Roman heard it.

“Roman?” she whispered.

He didn’t even get a chance to answer before Liv launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his torso like she was bracing for impact. Roman staggered back a step, hands instinctively coming up to hold her steady.

“Liv—”

“Nope. Nope. Nope. I’m not doing this,” she said, voice already climbing. “I’m not dying in an elevator. I’m not being found by a Minihaussen in the dark. I’m not—”

Roman tightened his grip on her waist, grounding her. “Morgan. Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” she snapped, burying her face in his chest. “I’m just breathing aggressively.”

Roman couldn’t help it — he laughed. Quiet, low, the kind of laugh he only let out when she was pressed against him like this.

“You’re fine,” he murmured, one hand sliding up her back. “It’s just the power.”

Liv clung tighter. “I can’t see anything.”

“I know.”

“I hate elevators.”

“I know.”

“I swear if a Minihaussen crawls out of the ceiling—”

Roman shook his head, even though she couldn’t see it. “Liv. If a Minihaussen crawls out of the ceiling, I’ll throw it.”

Liv froze. “You’d throw it?”

“Absolutely.”

She let out a shaky laugh, still glued to him. “Okay… that helps.”

Roman’s thumb brushed her hip — a tiny, comforting gesture he’d never risk if the lights were on. “Good. Because you’re shaking.”

“I’m not shaking.”

“You’re shaking,” he repeated softly.

Liv didn’t argue this time. She just held onto him, fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, breathing against his chest while the elevator sat in complete darkness.

Roman lowered his head, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Liv swallowed hard. “I know.”

Roman shifted Liv just enough so he could reach the control panel. He kept one arm around her — because she still hadn’t let go — and slammed the bright red EMERGENCY CALL button.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again.

Still nothing.

Liv’s voice cracked. “Roman… why isn’t it doing anything?”

Roman stared at the dead panel, jaw tightening. “Because this elevator hates us.”

Liv made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whine. “Roman, don’t joke right now.”

He sighed, softened, and tugged her gently down with him. “Come here. Sit.”

Liv practically collapsed beside him, knees pulled up, hands still fisted in his shirt like she was afraid he’d disappear if she let go.

Roman reached into his bag — the one he always carried because he was Roman Reigns and prepared for everything — and pulled out a massive, tactical flashlight. The kind that looked like it could double as a weapon.

Liv blinked. “Roman… why do you have that?”

He clicked it on, flooding the elevator with a warm beam of light. “Because I’m smarter than you.”

Liv swatted his arm. “Not funny.”

Roman angled the flashlight so it lit both of their faces. “It’s a little funny.”

Liv huffed, leaning into him despite herself. “How long are we gonna be here?”

Roman didn’t answer right away. He looked at the ceiling, the dead panel, the unmoving doors… then at Liv, who was staring at him with wide, anxious eyes.

He lowered his voice. “Long enough for you to calm down.”

Liv groaned. “Roman…”

He nudged her shoulder with his. “We’ll get out. Someone will notice we’re missing.”

Liv’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. What if it’s a Minihaussen who notices?”

Roman closed his eyes. “Morgan… please.”

The elevator let out a long, low creak — the kind that sounded like metal shifting under pressure.

Liv froze.

Then she grabbed Roman again, fingers digging into his arm. “Roman. Roman. ROMAN. What was that?”

Roman steadied her instantly, one hand on her shoulder, the other keeping the flashlight pointed upward. “Relax. It’s just the cables adjusting.”

“That’s what they say in horror movies,” Liv whispered, eyes huge. “Right before the elevator drops.”

Roman gave her a look — the calm, steady one he only used when she was spiraling. “Morgan. Look at me.”

She did.

Barely.

“You’re okay,” he said, voice low and grounding. “I’m right here.”

Liv swallowed hard. “I… I don’t like this.”

“I know.”

“I’m not good with the dark.”

Roman’s brows lifted. “Oh really? You weren’t last night.”

Liv’s jaw dropped. “Roman!”

He smirked — that quiet, private smirk he only ever gave her when no one else was around. “What? You were fine then.”

Liv shoved his shoulder, flustered. “Stop. Someone could find us. Our secret would be ruined.”

Roman leaned back against the wall, flashlight still steady, voice still soft. “Liv… if someone finds us, they’ll think you’re scared of elevators. Not dating me.”

Liv huffed. “I am scared of elevators.”

“I know,” Roman said, nudging her knee with his. “That’s why I’m here.”

Liv looked at him — really looked — and her breathing finally slowed.

Roman tilted the flashlight so it lit her face gently. “Better?”

Liv nodded. “A little.”

Roman’s voice dropped even softer. “Good. Because I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

Liv’s shoulders relaxed, her grip on his arm loosening but not letting go. “Okay… okay. I trust you.”

Roman smiled — small, warm, the kind he never showed on camera. “I know.”

Liv rested her head against Roman’s shoulder, the flashlight casting a warm circle around them. For the first time since the lights went out, she was quiet.

Roman nudged her gently. “You good?”

Liv nodded, but her voice was small. “I just… hate the dark. I always have.”

Roman tilted his head, giving her that soft look he only ever used when they were alone. “You should’ve told me.”

“You already tease me enough,” she muttered.

Roman smirked. “Oh really? You weren’t scared last night.”

Liv’s face went hot. “Roman…”

He chuckled under his breath, brushing his thumb across her shoulder in a way that was comforting, familiar, and absolutely something they’d never risk if the lights were on.

“You’re safe,” he murmured. “I promise.”

Liv opened her mouth to respond—

And the elevator dropped.

Not far.

Just a sharp, sudden lurch downward.

Liv screamed and slipped off the bench, her hands scrambling for anything to hold onto. Roman lunged, grabbing her wrist with one hand and bracing himself with the other, pulling her up before she could hit the floor.

“Liv! I’ve got you!”

She clung to him, shaking, breath coming fast. “Roman—Roman—Roman—”

“I know,” he said, voice steady even though his heart was pounding. “I know. I’ve got you.”

The elevator groaned again.

Roman tightened his grip, pulling her fully into his arms, holding her upright against him. Liv buried her face in his chest, trembling.

“Don’t let go,” she whispered.

“I’m not letting go,” Roman said, low and certain. “Not ever.”

Before Liv could answer, a loud metallic bang echoed from above them.

Then—

A sliver of light.

Someone was prying the doors open from the outside.

Roman shifted Liv behind him instinctively, shielding her with his body as the gap widened.

A hand reached in.

Then a voice.

“Yo… you two good?”

Liv’s eyes widened. “Jimmy?!”

Jimmy Uso stared at them — Roman holding Liv, Liv clinging to Roman, the tactical flashlight, the dead elevator — and let out the longest sigh of his life.

“Man,” he muttered, “I knew y’all were together, but I didn’t think I’d be rescuing you from a whole elevator date.”

Liv groaned. “Jimmy, please don’t—”

Jimmy held up a hand. “Nah, nah, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe. But you owe me for this.”

Roman exhaled, finally letting Liv stand on her own. “Just get us out.”

Jimmy grinned. “Already on it, Uce.”

The second Jimmy got the doors pried open enough, Roman helped Liv step out first, keeping a steady hand on her back until her feet were safely on the hallway carpet. She was still shaking a little, still clinging to Roman’s sleeve, but the moment she saw open space again, she tried to stand up straight like nothing had happened.

Roman stepped out behind her, flashlight still in hand, looking way too calm for someone who’d just been stuck in a dead elevator.

Jimmy stared at them — Liv’s messy hair, Roman’s protective stance, the tactical flashlight, the way Liv kept drifting closer to him like a magnet — and shook his head.

“Aight,” Jimmy said, “y’all gotta stop lookin’ like you just survived a whole lifetime movie.”

Liv cleared her throat and immediately stepped two feet away from Roman. “We’re fine. Totally fine. Normal. Very normal.”

Roman nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Just… elevator malfunction.”

Jimmy raised a brow. “Uh‑huh. And the way you were holdin’ onto him like the floor was lava… that was part of the malfunction too?”

Liv’s face went red. “Jimmy!”

Roman tried to play it cool, slipping the flashlight back into his bag. “She tripped.”

Jimmy snorted. “Bro, she was wrapped around you like a backpack.”

Liv groaned. “Jimmy, please.”

Jimmy held up both hands. “Hey, hey, your secret’s safe. I ain’t tellin’ nobody. But I am gonna laugh about this forever.”

Roman gave him a look. “Can we just go to our rooms?”

Jimmy started walking ahead of them, shaking his head and muttering. “Man… stuck in an elevator with your girl and y’all still tryin’ to act like coworkers. Couldn’t be me.”

Liv covered her face with both hands.

Roman sighed.

Jimmy turned back with a grin. “Next time, maybe pick an elevator that ain’t possessed.”

The End

TAGLIST

Pair: Cm Punk X AJ Lee X Cody Rhodes 

Plot: After a chaotic SmackDown brawl leaves Cody Rhodes limping and CM Punk bruised, the two men retreat to their hotel to regroup before Saturday Night’s Main Event, where their SummerSlam match hangs in the balance. Waiting for them is AJ Lee, armed with a first‑aid kit and zero patience, determined to patch them up and chew them out for their reckless night. When Brandi Rhodes arrives, the scolding doubles — and so does the chaos. Between injuries, lectures, and a joke that nearly sends Punk and Cody into cardiac arrest, the four of them end the night in a rare moment of calm: two couples, two bruised wrestlers, and one massive match looming over tomorrow. No matter what happens at the Garden, they’re facing it together.

Song: Brother — Kodaline

This fic follows the aftermath of a chaotic night on SmackDown, where Cody Rhodes and CM Punk find themselves bruised, limping, and barely holding it together. Back at the hotel, AJ Lee steps in with tough love, a first‑aid kit, and the kind of honesty only she can deliver. What unfolds is a mix of scolding, humor, patch‑ups, and the quiet comfort that comes from people who care enough to keep you grounded.

Inspired by the emotional weight of Brother, this story focuses on loyalty, support, and the softer moments that happen when the cameras are off — the ones that remind you that even the strongest need someone to lean on.🥺💕😊

PS: I hope my boys win tonight I really do I know it would be more interesting to people in a fatal four way but I want it to be a one on one match. 💕

Cody was backstage lacing up his boots, jaw set, eyes sharp — the kind of look he got when he’d already made up his mind. The match with Gunther was minutes away, and everyone knew it wasn’t smart. Not with the stipulation for tomorrow. Not with Gunther’s reputation. Not with everything on the line.

Punk found him anyway.

He didn’t storm in.

He didn’t yell.

He didn’t cut a promo.

He just stepped into the room, hands on his hips, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what Cody was about to do.

“You really gonna do this?” Punk asked, voice low.

Cody didn’t look up.

“Yeah. I have to.”

Punk moved closer, dropping the attitude, dropping the bravado — just speaking like a friend who cared way too much.

“Cody… Gunther’s not going out there to wrestle you. He’s going out there to hurt you. And if he does? Tomorrow’s done. Saturday Night’s Main Event is done. Our match is done.”

Cody paused, fingers tightening around his wrist tape.

Punk softened even more.

“I don’t want you getting hurt. Not like that. Not tonight.”

Cody finally looked up at him — stubborn, determined, but touched.

“Punk… I can’t back down. Not from him.”

Punk sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Then I’m gonna be out there. I’m not letting you walk into Gunther alone. I’ve got your back tonight. Whether you want me to or not.”

Cody blinked, surprised.

Punk shrugged.

“I’m not losing my SummerSlam match because you’re too damn brave for your own good.”

Cody huffed a laugh — small, grateful he says.

“ Fine okay but stay back here until I need you,” 

Saturday Night’s Main Event was less than twenty‑four hours away, and Cody Rhodes knew exactly what was at stake. Gunther hadn’t even stepped into the ring yet when Cody charged him from behind, fueled by adrenaline and stubborn determination.

He slammed Gunther into the barricade.

Then into the steel steps.

Then across the apron.

Punch after punch landed with sharp, echoing cracks.

Finally, Cody grabbed Gunther by the head and bounced his skull off the announce table, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

But once Cody dragged Gunther into the ring, everything went south.

Gunther dropped him hard.

Cody’s knee buckled.

Pain shot through him like fire.

Gunther smelled blood.

He grabbed Cody’s injured leg, yanked him toward the corner, and slammed Cody’s knee into the ring post. Cody screamed, clutching at the ropes, agony ripping through him.

That’s when CM Punk’s music hit.

The crowd erupted as Punk walked down the ramp, not showboating, not posing — just heading straight to ringside, eyes locked on Cody, trying to give him encouragement.

Joe Tessitore’s voice cut through commentary:

“Now the Undisputed Champion is making his presence felt on SmackDown.”

Wade Barrett added, tense and serious:

“Punk looks aggrieved right now, knowing full well the physical position Cody is in — and the consequences for tomorrow night.”

Cody clawed his way toward a vertical base. Gunther mocked Punk’s signature GTS, hoisting Cody up — but Cody slipped out and hit a lariat. Gunther answered with one of his own, both men crashing to the mat.

And then all hell broke loose.

Cody almost had the match won. Punk was cheering him on, urging him to finish it — when Sami Zayn came flying out of nowhere. He slammed Punk into the ring post, then hurled him over the announce table.

Cody dove out of the ring, crashing into Sami and sending him sprawling. But when Cody tried to climb back inside, Sami grabbed him and slammed him into the ring post, knocking him limp. The referee threw the match out.

Punk saw Cody in danger and launched himself off the announce table, crashing into Sami and Gunther as the fight spilled back into the ring.

Joe shouted:

“Oh! CM Punk from off the announce desk!”

Wade followed:

“We’re gonna need security — this one officially thrown out! Gunther going for the eyeballs of CM Punk…”

Joe’s voice rose with the chaos:

“This is wild — an all‑out brawl! Tomorrow at Madison Square Garden, they put it all on the line to determine what the championship match will look like at SummerSlam!”

Wade added:

“Thankfully reinforcements are on the way — but is the damage already done? Good luck separating these four.”

Joe closed the show:

“Absolute madness here on SmackDown!”

Wade echoed:

“Absolute mayhem, Joe — imagine how bad it’s gonna be tomorrow at the Garden… if we even make it that far.”

Joe delivered the final line as security swarmed:

“They cannot hold them back! Cody is all over Gunther, Punk and Sami are brawling — in twenty‑four hours they meet at Madison Square Garden, and the entire SummerSlam dynamic could shift in one single result on Saturday Night’s Main Event!”

SmackDown ended in pure, unstoppable chaos.

Security finally pulled the four men apart, but the damage was already done. Cody was limping, his knee screaming every time he put weight on it. Punk had a dark bruise forming around his eye — the kind that would look even worse in the morning.

They pushed through the curtain into gorilla, both breathing hard, both still buzzing from the fight.

Cody winced as he tried to straighten up.

Punk glanced at him, shaking his head.

“I told you Gunther was gonna try to take you out.”

Cody huffed a laugh — small, tired, grateful he wasn’t alone.

“Yeah, well… you were right.”

Punk raised an eyebrow.

“Say it again. Louder.”

Cody rolled his eyes.

“Don’t push it.”

They walked down the hallway together, trainers trying to flag them down, but Punk waved them off. Cody just wanted to get out of the arena. Punk wanted to make sure he didn’t collapse on the way.

Cody pressed a hand to his knee, grimacing.

“Brandi is gonna kill me.”

Punk snorted.

“Oh, absolutely. She’s gonna roast you alive.”

Cody shot him a look.

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” Punk said, smirking despite the bruise swelling under his eye. “I’m just telling the truth.”

They reached the exit, both moving slower than usual — Cody limping, Punk blinking through the sting in his eye. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind pain, exhaustion, and the reality of tomorrow’s match.

Punk unlocked the rental car.

Cody eased himself into the passenger seat with a hiss.

Punk glanced over at him.

“You good?”

Cody exhaled.

“Define good.”

Punk nodded.

“Fair enough.”

He started the car, pulling out of the arena parking lot. The city lights blurred past the windows as they drove toward the hotel, both men quiet, both replaying the chaos in their heads.

Cody finally broke the silence.

“Tomorrow… we have to win.”

Punk didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah. We do.”

They didn’t say anything else.

They didn’t need to.

They were bruised, battered, and barely holding it together — but they were in this together.

And waiting for them upstairs, in the hotel room, was AJ Lee…

with a first‑aid kit

and a look that said she already knew they’d done something stupid.

Punk swiped the keycard and pushed open the door. Cody limped behind him, both of them looking like they’d crawled out of a demolition site.

AJ Lee was already inside.

Arms crossed.

Foot tapping.

First‑aid kit open on the bed.

She didn’t even let Punk speak.

“No. Shut up. Sit down.”

Punk sat instantly.

Cody tried to back out.

“Uh… I’m just gonna go—”

AJ pointed at him like she was casting a spell.

“Oh, no. Brandi gave me permission to chew your ass out while she puts Liberty to sleep. Sit.”

Cody sat.

AJ grabbed the ice pack and pressed it gently to Punk’s cheekbone. He winced, but she held his chin steady with her thumb.

“Phil, you dove off the announce table. Why?”

Punk shrugged weakly.

“…I stuck the landing.”

AJ glared.

He shut up.

She cleaned the cut near his eye, dabbed antiseptic on the bruise, taped the swelling area, and muttered under her breath the entire time.

Then she moved to Cody.

She knelt in front of him, carefully unwrapping the trainer’s brace and re‑wrapping his knee properly. Cody hissed every time she tightened the bandage.

“Gunther tried to snap your leg like a breadstick,” AJ muttered. “I swear, you two have no survival instincts.”

Cody opened his mouth to defend himself—

The door swung open.

Brandi Rhodes walked in, looking like she had sprinted straight from Liberty’s bedtime to the hotel room.

She took one look at Cody’s knee.

One look at Punk’s eye.

One look at AJ’s first‑aid kit.

Her expression dropped into pure, righteous fury.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Cody straightened like he’d been caught stealing cookies.

Brandi pointed at him.

“Cody Garrett Rhodes, what did I JUST tell you about fighting Gunther before Saturday Night’s Main Event?”

Cody swallowed.

“I—well—he—”

“No excuses.” Brandi marched right up to him. “You jumped him before the bell even rang! You’re lucky your knee isn’t in three pieces!”

Punk snorted.

Brandi turned on him instantly.

“And YOU! Why is your eye purple?! Why did Sami Zayn throw you into a ring post?! Why did you dive off the announce table like you were trying to impress my husband?!”

Punk blinked.

“I wasn’t trying to impress him.”

AJ raised an eyebrow.

Brandi and AJ exchanged a look.

A smirk.

A dangerous smirk.

Brandi crossed her arms.

“Oh, and what was that last week, babe? Trying to kiss Phil on national TV?”

Cody’s entire soul left his body.

“WHAT?!”

AJ whipped her head toward Punk.

“Phil… is there something you wanna tell me?”

Punk’s eyes went wide.

“What—NO—WHAT?! I wasn’t—CODY leaned in!”

Cody pointed at Punk.

“YOU leaned in!”

Punk pointed at Cody.

“YOU leaned in!”

They both looked horrified.

AJ and Brandi burst out laughing — loud, unfiltered, chaotic laughter that filled the room.

AJ wiped a tear from her eye.

“Oh my God, you two are so easy.”

Brandi nodded, still giggling.

“One little moment on TV and the internet thinks you’re running a romance storyline.”

Cody groaned.

Punk muttered something about never showing affection again.

AJ finally calmed down, stepping closer to Punk.

He reached out, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her gently into his lap.

She settled against him, fingers brushing his jaw, checking the bruise again with softer eyes.

Cody watched them, then tugged Brandi into his lap too.

She let out a tiny laugh, curling an arm around his shoulders, careful of his knee.

For the first time all night, the room felt calm.

Two bruised idiots.

Two wives who loved them enough to yell first and patch them up second.

Four people tangled together in a quiet hotel room, the chaos of SmackDown finally fading.

AJ rested her head on Punk’s shoulder.

Brandi squeezed Cody’s hand.

Punk exhaled.

Cody leaned back.

Tomorrow would be war.

But tonight?

They had this.

The End

TAGLIST

Pair: Damien Priest X Rhea Ripley X Finn Balor 

Plot: When an unexpected announcement shakes SmackDown, Finn Bálor and Damian Priest rush through the chaos of the night to get home to the one person who needs them most. Injured, frustrated, and overwhelmed by the noise of the outside world, Rhea Ripley finds herself breaking in ways she never lets anyone see — except them. As the three navigate hurt, comfort, and the quiet safety of their shared secrecy, they’re reminded that some battles aren’t fought in the ring, but in the moments where love becomes the only thing strong enough to hold someone together.

Song: Shatter Me — Lindsey Stirling ft. Lzzy Hale

This story explores the quiet, vulnerable moments that happen far away from the arena lights — the ones where strength falters and the people closest to you become the only anchor left. After a chaotic night on SmackDown, Finn Bálor and Damian Priest return home to find Rhea Ripley hurting in ways she never lets the world see. What follows is a blend of comfort, frustration, and the fierce loyalty that binds the three of them together.

Inspired by the emotional intensity of Shatter Me, this fic focuses on healing, connection, and the battles fought behind closed doors — the ones that matter most. ❤️💕🥺

The show opened cold with Adam Pearce standing in the ring, the crowd buzzing under the lights.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an update regarding the Women’s Champion, Rhea Ripley.”

The arena quieted instantly.

“Rhea has been recovering from a torn meniscus for several weeks. She’s been working nonstop with WWE Medical, and she’s close — but not close enough. She will not be cleared to compete at SummerSlam.”

A wave of shock rolled through the audience.

“With her return date still uncertain, WWE will crown an interim Women’s Champion. Starting tonight, five women will compete for spots in a ladder match at SummerSlam. The winner will hold the interim title until Rhea returns… and when she does, we’ll find out who the true, undisputed Women’s World Champion is.”

He lowered the mic.

“That decision is official.”

The crowd erupted as the opening music hit.

Backstage, the monitor flickered with Pearce’s announcement

Finn Bálor stood in front of it, already in his gear for his match with Talla Tonga — wrist tape half‑finished, boots laced, jaw tight. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared at the screen like the words hadn’t fully hit him yet.

A few feet away, Damian Priest stood with R‑Truth, going over cues for his solo segment with CM Punk later in the show. Truth was talking, animated as always, but Damian wasn’t hearing a word.

His eyes were locked on the monitor.

Truth finally noticed.

“Dawg… you good?”

Damian didn’t answer. His jaw flexed once, slow.

Finn muttered under his breath, low and sharp:

“…Interim champion. They’re really doing it.”

Damian exhaled hard through his nose.

“She didn’t relinquish the title. She didn’t.”

Finn shook his head, still staring at the screen.

“They’re acting like she did.”

Truth looked between them, confused but concerned.

“Y’all look like somebody just told you Santa ain’t real.”

Damian ignored him.

“She’s gonna lose her mind.”

Finn finally tore his eyes from the monitor and looked at Damian — that quiet, loaded look only people who love the same woman understand.

Finn: “We need to get to her.”

Damian: “After your match. After my segment. We go straight home.”

Truth blinked.

“Home? I thought y’all were just—”

Damian cut him a look that shut him up instantly.

Finn finished taping his wrist, movements sharp and angry.

Damian grabbed his gear bag, shoulders tense.

They didn’t stand close.

They didn’t speak again.

They didn’t make it obvious.

But both men were already planning the same thing:

Get through the show.

Get out of the arena.

Get home to Rhea.

Before either man could say another word, a stagehand called out that Finn’s entrance was in thirty seconds — forcing him to tear his eyes from the monitor, shake off the anger, and head toward gorilla for his match with Talla Tonga.

Finn didn’t even get a full minute to breathe after Pearce’s announcement. He was already in his gear, already taped up, already pacing, trying to shake off the anger before heading to the ring.

The moment he stepped through the curtain, the Tongans were waiting.

Talla Tonga stood in the ring like a wall — seven feet of fury, power, and bad intentions.

Tama Tonga circled at ringside, eyes locked on Finn, still seething from last week’s embarrassment.

The bell rang.

Talla came at Finn immediately, using his size to bully him into the corner, crushing him with heavy body shots that echoed through the arena. Finn tried to slip out, tried to use his speed, but every escape just made Talla angrier.

On the outside, Tama paced like a shark.

At one point, Talla lifted Finn and dropped him jaw‑first onto the edge of the announce desk. The crowd groaned. Finn’s head snapped back violently, and he staggered, dazed, barely able to stay upright.

The referee was distracted for half a second — and Tama took it.

He grabbed Finn by the skull and drove a forearm into him, vengeance for last week’s loss. Finn’s leg got caught awkwardly on the barricade, twisting, leaving him vulnerable.

Talla dragged Finn back into the ring and dominated him — slamming him, tossing him, crushing him with sheer power. Every time Finn tried to fight back, Talla shut him down.

But Finn is Finn.

He slipped out of a chokeslam attempt, sent Talla crashing into the turnbuckle, then sprinted outside and hit a Slingblade on Tama that took the ringside threat out completely.

The crowd exploded.

Finn rolled back in, hit a shotgun dropkick that launched Talla into the corner, then climbed the ropes.

Coup de Grâce.  

The big man didn’t stay down.

Finn climbed again.

Second Coup de Grâce.

He covered him.

One. Two. Three.

The bell rang.

Finn’s music hit.

And commentary called it exactly what it was — a brutal, chaotic win over both Tongans, and a massive statement for Finn’s SmackDown run.

Finn slipped out of the ring the second his music hit, adrenaline still buzzing under his skin as he made his way through the curtain. The moment he stepped backstage, the noise of the arena faded into the hum of production crews and rushing stagehands. He didn’t stop to talk, didn’t celebrate, didn’t even grab a bottle of water—he just found an empty spot off to the side near the monitor wall, dropped onto a crate, and fixed his eyes on the screen. Damian’s segment with Punk was coming up next, and Finn needed to see it. Needed to know how Damian was holding himself together after Pearce’s announcement. Needed to be close, even if nobody else understood why.

The monitor flickered, switching from commercials to a live backstage shot.

Punk had just got done talking to Adam Pearce, and Damian Priest was standing there waiting.

Punk said,

“What’s up big man, we good?”

Damian replied,

“Oh, we’re good. Honestly appreciate the shoutout last week. I hope you understand — if you’re still champ after SummerSlam, I’m gonna be standing right here waiting for you.”

Punk smirked.

“I hope you are. And you know what? I hope you’re still champ, because me and Cody are gonna go on a tear. We’re gonna beat Gunther and Sami tomorrow… and then who’s to say we won’t come after you? Double champ CM Punk sounds good to me.”

Damian nodded once.

“Alright. Sounds good to me, bro…”

They fist‑bumped, the segment ending on that respectful, dangerous promise.

Finn exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping as the screen faded out. Damian looked calm, collected, professional — but Finn knew better. He knew exactly what was boiling under Damian’s skin after Pearce’s announcement. And he knew they both needed to get home to Rhea as soon as the show was over.

The second the segment with Punk faded off the monitor, Finn pushed himself up from the crate, rolling his sore shoulder once before grabbing his bag. He didn’t need to say anything—Damian was already heading toward him from down the hall, gear bag slung over his shoulder, expression tight but focused.

They didn’t make a scene.

They didn’t rush.

They just walked with purpose, side‑by‑side but not too close, slipping through the backstage traffic like two men who had somewhere important to be.

Truth called something after Damian, but Damian only lifted a hand in acknowledgment. Finn didn’t even look back.

By the time they reached the parking lot, the adrenaline from the night had worn off, replaced by the same quiet urgency they’d both felt since Pearce’s announcement. Damian unlocked the car, tossed his bag in the back, and Finn slid into the passenger seat without a word.

They knew exactly where they were going.

SmackDown played softly on the TV in Damian’s living room, the volume low enough that the commentary blended into the background hum. Rhea sat curled on the couch, her injured knee wrapped neatly in fresh bandaging. She had on Finn’s Balor Club sweatpants—too big on her, hanging loose at the hips—and one of Damian’s hoodies, sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

Her title sat on the coffee table in front of her, close enough to touch, far enough away that she didn’t have to look at it.

She wasn’t crying.

She wasn’t breaking down.

She was just… quiet.

Focused.

Watching every match, every segment, every moment like she was studying a battlefield she couldn’t step onto.

When Pearce’s announcement replayed during the recap package, she exhaled slowly, jaw tightening, fingers curling into the fabric of Damian’s hoodie.

She hated being sidelined.

She hated being replaced.

But she hated being alone even more.

And she knew they were coming home

The drive to Damian’s house was quiet, the kind of quiet that wasn’t awkward—just heavy. Heavy with Pearce’s announcement. Heavy with everything they couldn’t say out loud in public. Heavy with the need to get home to her.

Damian unlocked the front door, Finn right behind him, both stepping inside like they’d done it a hundred times.

Rhea looked up the second she heard them.

She didn’t say a word.

She didn’t pretend to be fine.

She didn’t try to act tough.

She just held her arms out toward Finn.

Not Damian.

Not both of them.

Finn.

Because according to her, Finn gives the best cuddles, and tonight she needed that more than anything.

Finn dropped his bag instantly and crossed the room in three steps. He slid onto the couch beside her, letting her fold herself into him—her head tucked under his chin, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, her knee carefully resting across his lap so he wouldn’t bump it.

He wrapped his arms around her like he’d been waiting all night to do it.

Damian watched them for a moment—soft, fond, protective—before heading straight to the kitchen.

Salt & Vinegar Chips rheas favorite 

So Damian grabbed the bag from the pantry, popped it open, and brought it over without saying anything—just setting it on the coffee table beside her title.

Rhea didn’t reach for it yet.

She just tightened her hold on Finn, breathing him in, grounding herself.

Damian sat on her other side, close but not crowding, one hand resting gently on her wrapped knee.

The three of them sat there like that—quiet, warm, together—while SmackDown continued playing softly in the background.

Rhea didn’t let go of Finn for a long moment. She just stayed tucked against him, breathing slow, steady, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Damian set the salt & vinegar chips on the table, then sat beside her, one hand resting gently on her wrapped knee.

Finn rubbed slow circles on her back.

Damian waited, patient, quiet.

Finally, Rhea exhaled — a shaky, frustrated breath.

“...I’m upset at myself,” she whispered.

Finn’s arms tightened around her automatically.

Rhea swallowed hard.

“I shouldn’t have gotten hurt. I shouldn’t have let it happen. And I should be healing faster. I should be back already. I should be out there. Not sitting here watching someone else fight for my title.”

Damian leaned in a little, voice low and steady.

“Rhea… you didn’t choose this.”

She shook her head, eyes stinging, fingers curling tighter into Finn’s shirt.

“I’m supposed to be unstoppable. I’m supposed to be the one carrying the division. And instead I’m sitting here with my knee wrapped like some rookie who didn’t know how to land right.”

Finn rested his forehead against the top of her head.

“Hey. No. You’re allowed to be human.”

Rhea’s voice cracked.

“I don’t want to be human. I want to be champion. And I feel like I’m letting everyone down — you two, the fans, myself…”

Damian reached over, gently cupping the side of her face so she’d look at him.

“You didn’t let anyone down,” he said softly. “You got hurt doing your job better than anyone else. And you’re healing as fast as your body can. That’s not failure. That’s reality.”

Finn nodded, his thumb brushing her shoulder.

“And we’re not going anywhere. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not when they crown an interim champion. We’re here. With you.”

Rhea’s eyes finally softened, her body relaxing between them — held, supported, safe.

Rhea stayed tucked against Finn’s chest, breathing slow and shaky, Damian’s hand warm on her knee. For a moment, it felt like she might settle — like the worst of the storm had passed.

But then her breath hitched.

Finn felt it immediately.

Damian saw her shoulders tense.

Rhea pulled back just enough to look at them, eyes glassy, lashes wet. She swallowed hard, trying to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her phone on the coffee table.

“...I didn’t want to show you this,” she whispered.

Finn’s brows knit with concern.

Damian leaned in, quiet, steady.

Rhea unlocked her phone with shaking hands and turned the screen toward them.

Comments.

Hundreds of them.

Scrolling fast, ugly, relentless.

“She doesn’t deserve to keep the title.”  

“Interim champ is better than her anyway.”  

“Good. She’s injured. Maybe someone worthy will take over.”  

“She’s faking it.”  

“She’s scared to defend.”  

“She should’ve been stripped.”  

“Hope she never comes back.”

Her voice cracked.

“I don’t… I don’t understand what I did. I gave everything. I wrestled hurt. I pushed through everything. And they’re happy I’m injured. They’re happy I’m gone.”

Finn’s face softened with heartbreak.

Damian’s jaw clenched, fury simmering under the surface — but not at her.

Rhea’s breath broke entirely, a sob ripping out of her before she could stop it. She covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking, the phone slipping from her grip onto the couch.

Finn pulled her into him instantly, arms wrapping around her tight, protective, grounding.

Damian shifted closer, one hand on her back, the other gently brushing her hair away from her face.

“Rhea… sweetheart… no,” Finn murmured, voice low and warm. “Those people don’t know you. They don’t know how hard you fight. They don’t know how much you give.”

Damian nodded, leaning in so she could hear him through her sobs.

“They’re not the ones who matter. They’re loud because they’re miserable. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t fail. You got hurt — and that happens to every single wrestler alive.”

Rhea shook her head against Finn’s chest, tears soaking into his shirt.

“But they hate me. They’re glad I’m gone.”

Damian’s voice dropped to a soft, steady rumble.

“They don’t hate you. They hate that you’re strong. They hate that you’re champion. They hate that you’re everything they wish they could be. And they’re wrong. Every single one of them.”

Finn tightened his hold, rocking her gently.

“We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. Cry as long as you need. We’ve got you.”

And she did.

She cried — hard, messy, shaking — for a long time.

Finn held her the whole time, arms never loosening.

Damian stayed right beside her, rubbing slow circles on her back, whispering quiet reassurances whenever her sobs spiked.

Eventually, her breathing slowed.

Her shoulders relaxed.

Her fingers curled into Finn’s hoodie and Damian’s hand at the same time — holding onto both of them like anchors.

She wasn’t okay yet.

But she wasn’t alone.

Not for a single second.

It took a long time for Rhea’s sobs to fade.

Finn held her through every single one, arms wrapped around her like he was shielding her from the whole world.

Damian stayed close, rubbing slow circles on her back, grounding her with quiet reassurances.

Eventually, her breathing steadied.

Her shoulders loosened.

Her fingers unclenched from Finn’s shirt.

She wasn’t okay — not fully — but she wasn’t drowning anymore.

Damian brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb, gentle in a way only she ever saw.

“Good girl,” he murmured softly. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

Rhea nodded, wiping her face with the sleeve of Damian’s hoodie.

Finn kissed the top of her head.

“You’re doing so good, love.”

She exhaled shakily.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”

Damian shook his head.

“You’re allowed to fall apart. Especially with us.”

He stood, grabbed his phone from the counter, scrolled for a moment — then tapped a song.

The soft, haunting intro of “Shatter Me” filled the living room.

Rhea’s eyes widened.

“You remembered…”

Damian held out his hand.

“Come here.”

She hesitated — knee wrapped, eyes still red — but she took his hand. Damian pulled her gently to her feet, careful of her leg, guiding her into his arms.

He rested one hand on her waist, the other on her back, swaying slowly with her in the dim light of the living room.

Rhea melted into him, forehead against his chest.

Then Finn stepped up behind her, sliding his arms around her from the back, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder.

She was held between them — safe, warm, loved — the world outside completely gone.

Damian whispered against her hair,

“You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever.”

Finn tightened his hold, voice low and soft in her ear.

“We’ve got you. Always.”

Rhea’s eyes fluttered shut, tears slipping down her cheeks again — but this time, they weren’t from pain.

They were from relief.

Damian leaned down, kissing her temple.

Finn kissed her cheek from behind.

And then Damian said it — the truth they’d never say outside these walls:

“The world will never know you’re ours. And that’s a good thing… because we’d have to beat everyone’s ass who ever said a bad thing about you.”

Finn nodded, lips brushing her ear.

“Every single one of them.”

Rhea let out a tiny, broken laugh — the first sound of joy she’d made all night — and held onto both of them tighter.

Between them, she wasn’t the injured champion.

She wasn’t the target of cruel comments.

She wasn’t the woman being replaced by an interim title.

She was theirs.

And she was safe.

The End

TAGLIST

Pair: Roman Reigns X Liv Morgan 

Plot: WWE Superstars Liv Morgan and Roman Reigns secretly spend a quiet morning together before being invited to meet a young fan named Jace through Make‑A‑Wish. At Fanatics Fest NYC, Jace’s bright, bubbly personality instantly wins them over. Liv and Roman share a fun, heartfelt afternoon with him — taking photos, laughing, and giving him a moment he’ll never forget. After saying goodbye, Liv and Roman head home together, the day leaving them closer than ever. 

okay so um… this one was honestly so special to write?? like it just felt warm and sparkly the whole time. jace’s energy, liv’s laugh, roman being all soft and protective — it just hit different. i wanted the whole fic to feel bright and happy, like that moment when everything lines up and your heart kinda glows.

the song i had in my head while writing this was A Sky Full of Stars because that’s exactly what jace feels like in this story — just pure light. and liv and roman together? yeah… they shine too.

thank you for reading, ily, enjoy 💖

Roman was stretched out on Liv’s couch, one arm behind his head, the other lazily resting on her thigh. Liv was curled beside him, scrolling TikTok, her head on his shoulder like it belonged there.

Nobody knew they were dating.

Nobody even suspected it.

And they liked it that way.

It was quiet, soft, domestic — the kind of moment Liv wished she could freeze.

Then both their phones rang.

At the same time.

Liv jumped. “Oh—!”

Roman sat up, grabbing his phone. “Hold on, baby.”

Liv answered hers first. “Hello?”

Roman stepped into the hallway, answering his own call, lowering his voice just enough so the person on the other end couldn’t tell where he was.

“Yeah, this is Roman.”

Liv frowned, listening to her call. “Yes, this is Liv Morgan.”

They both went quiet at the same time.

Because the voice on the other end said the same thing to both of them:

“We were wondering if you’d be willing to grant a Make‑A‑Wish together.”

Liv’s eyes softened instantly. “Oh— absolutely. Of course.”

Roman’s voice dropped, gentle. “Yeah. I’m in. What’s the kid’s name?”

Liv listened on her end.

Roman listened on his.

And both of them heard it:

“His name is Jace. He’s eight. He has cerebral palsy. And he loves both of you.”

Liv’s heart melted. “Oh my God… yes. Yes, of course.”

Roman swallowed, his voice warm in a way only Liv ever heard. “Yeah. Whatever he needs. I’ll be there.”

The coordinator continued, “He asked specifically for you two together. He said you’re his ‘dream team.’”

Liv covered her mouth, emotional.

Roman closed his eyes, smiling softly.

They both agreed to the date, the time, the location.

Liv hung up first.

Roman hung up second.

He stepped back into the living room, leaning against the doorway, watching Liv wipe her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Liv nodded, smiling. “He asked for us.”

Roman walked over, cupping her cheek. “Yeah. He did.”

Liv leaned into his hand. “Roman… this is gonna mean everything to him.”

Roman kissed her forehead. “Then we’re gonna make it perfect.”

Liv looked up at him, eyes warm. “We have to be careful, though. We can’t let them know we’re—”

Roman smirked. “Baby… I can act professional for one day.”

Liv laughed. “You? Professional?”

Roman pulled her into his chest. “For you? And for Jace? Yeah.”

Liv wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight.

And Roman held her even tighter.

Liv woke up slowly, blinking against the soft morning light spilling through her curtains. She didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch — but she definitely remembered the warmth wrapped around her.

Roman’s arms.

She was tucked against his chest, his hand resting on her hip, his breathing deep and steady. He looked peaceful, softer than anyone ever saw him on TV. Liv smiled, brushing her thumb lightly over his ribs.

Roman’s eyes opened, slow and warm.

“Mornin’, baby.”

Liv melted instantly. “Morning.”

He kissed her forehead — lazy, gentle, the kind of kiss that made her toes curl — and stretched just enough to pull her even closer.

“Big day,” Liv whispered.

Roman nodded. “Yeah. For Jace.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other, enjoying the quiet before the world needed them again.

Eventually, Liv sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Breakfast?”

Roman smirked. “Only if you let me cook.”

Liv laughed. “You? Cooking? I’m scared.”

Roman nudged her playfully. “Watch your mouth.”

But he did cook — eggs, toast, fruit, and coffee — and Liv sat on the counter in one of his shirts, watching him move around her kitchen like he lived there. Because honestly? He kind of did.

They ate together on the couch, legs tangled, Liv stealing bites off Roman’s plate, Roman pretending to be annoyed but secretly loving it.

After breakfast, they got ready.

Liv pulled on comfy black joggers, a cropped hoodie, and her sneakers. She grabbed her Women’s World Championship, slinging it over her shoulder.

Roman wore sweats, a fitted tee, and his chain. He grabbed his Undisputed Championship, letting it rest against his hip.

Liv looked him up and down. “You look cute.”

Roman smirked. “You look cuter.”

Liv rolled her eyes, blushing. “Stop.”

He didn’t.

They headed out together — careful, quiet, making sure no neighbors saw them leave at the same time — and drove to Fanatics Fest NYC, where WWE had set up a private side room for the Make‑A‑Wish visit.

Liv’s heart fluttered as they walked down the hallway.

Roman glanced at her, voice low. “You ready?”

Liv nodded. “Yeah. I just… I hope he likes us.”

Roman squeezed her hand — quick, subtle, hidden from anyone who might walk by. “He’s gonna love you.”

Liv smiled. “He’s gonna love you more.”

Roman shook his head. “Not possible.”

They reached the door.

A coordinator stood outside, smiling warmly. “Roman, Liv… thank you for doing this. Jace is inside. He’s been talking about you nonstop.”

Liv’s heart melted.

Roman’s expression softened.

They exchanged one last secret look — the kind only people in love share — and stepped into the room together.

The door opened, and Liv stepped inside first, her Women’s World Title resting on her shoulder. Roman followed right behind her, championship in hand, towering but soft‑eyed.

Before either of them could say a word—

Jace practically exploded with excitement.

“OMG LIV! ROMAN! HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY— I’M JACE!!! HI!!!”

Liv jumped, then burst into the sweetest laugh. “Hi, baby!”

Roman blinked, stunned, then smiled so big it didn’t look like the Tribal Chief at all. “Hey, little man.”

Jace bounced in his wheelchair, hands flapping with excitement. “YOU’RE REALLY HERE! BOTH OF YOU! AT THE SAME TIME! OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH!”

Liv walked over immediately, kneeling beside him. “We wouldn’t miss meeting you.”

Roman crouched down too, resting his title on his knee. “You got a lot of energy, huh?”

Jace nodded so fast his hair shook. “YES! BECAUSE YOU’RE LIV MORGAN AND YOU’RE ROMAN REIGNS AND YOU’RE BOTH HERE AND I’M JACE AND HI!!!”

Liv giggled again, covering her mouth. “You’re adorable.”

Roman chuckled. “He’s got better crowd energy than half the roster.”

Jace gasped dramatically. “I DO?!”

Liv nodded. “You absolutely do.”

Jace squealed, kicking his feet under his blanket. “THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!”

Roman and Liv exchanged a soft glance — the kind that said this kid already owns our hearts — then turned back to Jace, ready to give him the happiest day of his life

Jace was still buzzing with excitement, hands flapping a little as he looked between them like he couldn’t decide who to talk to first.

Then he gasped.

“ROMAN! Roman! I have a question!”

Roman smiled, leaning in. “Shoot, little man.”

Jace bounced in his wheelchair. “Who’s your FAVORITE opponent ever? Like EVER EVER EVER?”

Roman chuckled, rubbing his beard. “Man… that’s a tough one.”

Jace waited, eyes huge.

Roman thought for a second. “I’d say… the ones who push me the hardest. The ones who make me better.”

Jace nodded seriously. “So… like… everyone?”

Liv snorted.

Roman laughed. “Pretty much.”

Jace grinned. “Okay okay okay— LIV! Your turn!”

Liv leaned closer. “What’s your question, baby?”

Jace lowered his voice like he was asking state secrets.

“Do you REALLY hate Rhea?”

Liv’s eyes widened. “Oh!”

Roman covered his mouth to hide a laugh.

Liv shook her head quickly. “No, sweetheart. I don’t hate Rhea at all.”

Jace blinked. “But you guys fight ALL THE TIME.”

Liv giggled. “That’s just wrestling, baby. Rhea’s amazing. She’s strong, she’s talented, and she’s actually really sweet backstage.”

Jace gasped. “SWEET?! RHEA RIPLEY?!”

Roman lost it — a full laugh, deep and warm.

Liv nodded. “Yep. She’s one of my favorite people.”

Jace sat back, processing this like it was the biggest plot twist of his life.

“So… you don’t hate her?”

Liv shook her head. “Not even a little.”

Jace pointed at Roman. “Do YOU hate her?”

Roman smirked. “Nope. Rhea’s cool.”

Jace threw his hands up. “THIS IS CRAZY. I THOUGHT YOU GUYS ALL HATED EACH OTHER!”

Liv laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “No, baby. We’re all friends. We just pretend to hate each other for TV.”

Jace nodded slowly, like he was learning the secrets of the universe.

“That’s… AWESOME.”

Roman nudged Liv gently. “He’s adorable.”

Liv smiled. “He really is.”

Jace beamed at both of them, happy as ever.

Jace was still buzzing, bouncing in his wheelchair, eyes wide as he looked between Roman and Liv like they were superheroes who just walked off the TV screen.

Then he gasped — loudly.

“ROMAN! LIV! I have a question!”

Roman leaned in, smiling. “What’s up, little man?”

Jace pointed at himself with both thumbs, proud as ever.

“AM I PART OF THE BLOODLINE?!”

Liv lost it — a full laugh, hand over her mouth.

Roman blinked, then grinned. “You? Part of the Bloodline?”

Jace nodded aggressively. “YES! Because I like Solo and Jacob and Jimmy and you and I watch all your matches and I cheer REALLY LOUD!”

Roman chuckled. “Well… cheering loud is definitely a requirement.”

Jace gasped. “SO I AM?!”

Roman tapped his fist gently against Jace’s. “Yeah. You’re in.”

Jace squealed, kicking his feet under his blanket. “YESSSSSSSSS!”

Liv giggled. “You’re adorable.”

But Jace wasn’t done.

He turned to Liv next, eyes huge.

“LIV MORGAN!”

Liv leaned closer. “Yes, baby?”

Jace pointed at himself again. “AM I PART OF JUDGMENT DAY TOO?!”

Liv wheezed. “Both?! You wanna be in BOTH?!”

Jace nodded proudly. “YES! Because I like Rhea and Damian and Dom and Finn— well he left but I still like him— and I watch ALL their matches too!”

Roman covered his mouth to hide a laugh.

Liv shook her head, smiling. “Baby, you can’t be in both teams.”

Jace frowned. “Why not?!”

Liv giggled. “Because they fight each other.”

Jace shrugged. “Well… I can still like everybody.”

Roman nodded. “That’s fair.”

Jace puffed his chest out. “So I’m in the Bloodline AND Judgment Day AND Team Liv!”

Liv hugged him gently. “You’re definitely on Team Liv.”

Roman smirked. “And you’re definitely Bloodline.”

Jace beamed. “I’M IN EVERYTHING!”

Liv laughed. “You’re the whole roster, baby.”

Roman nodded. “He’s got more alliances than half the locker room.”

Jace giggled, proud as ever.

Jace was still buzzing, bouncing in his wheelchair, when he suddenly gasped like he remembered something life‑changing.

“OH! OH! WAIT! I MADE YOU GUYS SOMETHING!”

Liv’s eyes widened. “You did?”

Roman leaned in, curious. “What’d you make, little man?”

Jace reached into the side pocket of his wheelchair — a little dinosaur‑patterned pouch — and pulled out two small items wrapped in crinkly blue tissue paper.

He handed one to Liv.

He handed one to Roman.

Liv’s heart melted instantly. “Baby… you made these?”

Jace nodded proudly. “YES! I worked SO HARD!”

Roman carefully unwrapped his first. Inside was a tiny bracelet made of red and black beads — uneven, imperfect, clearly made with love.

There was a little charm on it shaped like a tiny crown.

Roman froze.

Liv watched him, smiling softly.

Jace beamed. “It’s for you! Because you’re the Tribal Chief! And I wanted you to have a crown bracelet!”

Roman swallowed, voice suddenly thick. “Buddy… this is amazing.”

Jace giggled. “Do you like it?!”

Roman nodded. “I love it.”

He slipped it onto his wrist immediately — the massive size difference making it look even cuter.

Liv opened hers next. Inside was a bracelet made of pink, blue, and silver beads — sparkly ones mixed with little stars. The charm was a tiny heart.

Liv’s eyes filled instantly. “Oh my gosh… sweetheart…”

Jace bounced. “It’s for YOU! Because you’re my favorite girl wrestler and you’re strong and nice and pretty and you always smile and I wanted you to have a heart bracelet!”

Liv covered her mouth, emotional. “Baby… this is beautiful.”

Roman watched her, eyes softening even more.

Jace clapped his hands. “YOU GUYS MATCH NOW! YOU’RE A TEAM!”

Liv laughed through her tears. “We do match.”

Roman nodded, looking at his bracelet again. “We’re definitely a team.”

Jace squealed. “YESSSSSSS!”

Liv leaned in and hugged him gently. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m gonna wear this forever.”

Roman ruffled Jace’s hair. “Me too.”

Jace beamed, proud as ever — like he’d just given the greatest gifts in the world.

And honestly?

He had.

Jace had his tablet propped up on the little tray attached to his wheelchair, replaying the Raw highlights he’d saved. Liv and Roman stood behind him, watching him more than the screen.

The first clip was Liv’s match and run‑in.

Jace’s eyes went HUGE.

“OH MY GOSH LIV!!! LIV!!! YOU WERE SO COOL!!!”

Liv giggled softly. “You think so, baby?”

Jace nodded so fast his hair shook. “YES!!! You ran in and BOOM— you were like NOPE! And then you HIT her with your title and I was like ‘GO LIV GO LIV GO LIV!!!’”

Roman smirked behind her. “She gets fired up.”

Liv nudged him. “Stop.”

Jace kept going, bouncing in his seat. “And then Judgment Day came out and you guys were like RAWRRRR and I was screaming at my TV and my mom said I had to calm down but I DIDN’T!”

Liv laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “Baby, you’re adorable.”

Jace pointed at her bracelet. “And you STILL look pretty when you’re beating people up!”

Liv blushed. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Then he swiped to the next clip — Roman’s contract signing and fight.

Jace gasped so loud Liv jumped.

“ROMAN!!! YOU WERE SO MEAN!!!”

Roman blinked. “Mean?”

Jace nodded aggressively. “YES!!! You were like ‘blah blah blah number two blah blah blah I’m number one’ and I was like WHOA!!!”

Liv covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Roman rubbed his beard, trying not to smile. “I was… passionate.”

Jace pointed at him. “AND THEN YOU PUNCHED HIM!!! AND THEN HE PUNCHED YOU!!! AND THEN YOU GUYS WERE LIKE AAAAHHHHHH!!!”

Liv giggled. “That’s wrestling, baby.”

Jace shook his head. “NO THAT WAS CRAZY!!! You guys were fighting like you were in a video game!”

Roman chuckled. “It got a little heated.”

Jace slapped his tray. “A LITTLE? HE STOMPED YOU 

Liv burst out laughing. “He’s calling you out.”

Roman shrugged. “He’s not wrong.”

Jace looked between them, eyes sparkling.

“You guys are SO COOL. Liv beats people up and looks pretty. Roman beats people up and looks scary. You’re PERFECT.”

Liv blushed.

Roman smirked.

Jace bounced.

“AND NOW YOU’RE HERE WITH ME!!!”

Liv leaned in and kissed his cheek. “We wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Roman tapped Jace’s fist. “You’re the real star today.”

Jace squealed. “YESSSSSSS!!!”

The coordinator came in with a camera and Jace was practically vibrating in his wheelchair, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“ARE WE TAKING A PICTURE?! WITH BOTH OF YOU?!”

Liv giggled. “Yes, baby. Come on.”

Roman smirked. “Let’s make it a good one.”

They positioned themselves around Jace — him right in the middle, his dinosaur blanket tucked neatly over his legs, his bracelets shining on his wrists.

Liv took her spot on the left, her Women’s World Championship resting on her shoulder. She tilted her head, kissed the gold plate, and let out that signature little laugh — the one that always made the crowd scream.

Jace gasped. “LIV YOU LOOK SO COOL!!!”

Liv winked. “Only for you.”

Roman stepped to the right, lifting his Undisputed Championship high in the air with one arm — that classic pose, the one that made arenas shake. His other hand rested lightly on the back of Jace’s wheelchair, steady and protective.

Jace squealed. “ROMAN YOU LOOK SO AWESOME!!!”

Roman chuckled. “Gotta match Liv’s energy.”

Liv nudged him playfully. “You wish.”

Jace bounced in his seat. “THIS IS THE BEST PICTURE EVER!!!”

The coordinator raised the camera.

“Okay, ready? Three… two… one—”

Liv kissed her title again, laughing.

Roman lifted his championship even higher.

Jace threw up both hands in excitement.

Click.

The photo captured everything — Liv’s sparkle, Roman’s power, and Jace’s pure joy.

When the camera lowered, Jace looked up at them with the biggest smile.

“I LOOK SO COOL!!!”

Liv hugged him gently. “You look perfect.”

Roman tapped his fist against Jace’s. “You’re the star of the picture.”

Jace was still buzzing from the photo, cheeks flushed, bracelets jingling as he moved his hands.

Liv knelt beside him one more time, brushing his hair back gently. “Thank you for today, sweetheart. You made it so special.”

Jace grinned. “NO — YOU made it special!”

Liv kissed his cheek. “We’ll see you again, okay?”

Jace nodded so hard his dinosaur blanket slipped. “YES!!!”

Roman stepped forward next, crouching down so he was eye‑level with Jace. “You take care of yourself, little man.”

Jace held out his fist.

Roman bumped it. “Bloodline forever.”

Jace squealed. “YESSSSSS!”

Liv laughed softly. “And Team Liv forever.”

Jace bounced. “I’M IN BOTH!!!”

Roman and Liv exchanged one last warm look, then waved goodbye as the coordinator wheeled Jace toward the exit, still giggling and shouting, “BYE LIV!!! BYE ROMAN!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!”

Liv’s heart melted. Roman’s softened.

They walked out together, quiet, comfortable, slipping into Roman’s car with the kind of ease that only came from being in love.

Roman drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting palm‑up on the center console. Liv slid her fingers into his without a word.

The city rolled by outside the windows — soft lights, evening glow, the hum of traffic.

Roman glanced at her.

“You were really good with him,” he said quietly.

Liv smiled. “He was really sweet.”

Roman kept his eyes on the road, voice low. “Do you ever… want kids?”

Liv blinked, surprised. “Are you trying to tell me something, Roman?”

Roman’s thumb brushed her knuckles. “Maybe.”

Liv looked at him — really looked — the way he softened around Jace, the way he held her hand, the way he asked the question like it meant something.

The car stayed quiet for a moment.

Liv’s lips curled into a small smile. “Maybe… me too.”

Roman smirked, eyes still forward, but softer than ever.

And that’s where the moment settled — warm, quiet, full of possibility — as they drove back to Liv’s house together.

The end

TAGLIST