#theshieldimaginerequest

Pairings: Dean Ambrose x Reader

Warning: Language

Some Girls Like Simple

This morning had been a complete panic, jumping into jeans and t-shirt. While you knew he would never take your daughter, it was alarming when you got not even a ‘fridge note’ about where they were going and why. Then, you remembered his talk with an old buddy yesterday. You remembered that fond tone in his voice about pre-WWE days, and you wanted to puke. Did you hate his indy days? Of course not, but the permanent scars on his body were a reminder of just how crazy those shows could be.

You were going to kill him. You had pieced the whole thing together, and you were going to nail his ass to the wall with your evidence. You wanted to know if he would really deny taking her to the venue - to see things you couldn’t imagine. You pace the hardwood floor of your living room, barefoot in hopes that your skin against the cool surface will calm you; it does not. It only echoes, reminding you how much you want to strangle him once he comes home. One of the few days you all have off, he makes a crazy decision like this. He takes your child, still distant from five-years-old, to an indy show.

You yank your phone off the coffee table and begin to dial his number again; you shut it off, tossing the phone aside, when you hear the front door open and excited whispers follow.

“Remember, don’t say anything to mommy or she’ll be sad that she didn’t get to go with us.”

“Go with you where?” You know exactly where, but you want him to cope to it before you beat the shit out of him.

“Hey!” Dean stands straight, offering you a sneaky grin, and blocks your daughter, “Babe, I didn’t know you were up. It’s still early, isn’t it?”

“It’s actually late afternoon, but thanks for assuming I keep the sleeping schedule of a lazy housecat.” You push past him, immediately kneeling down in front of your daughter; her Mediterranean sea blues wide and sparkling – in a way that makes you nervous. Faint stains of mustard near her mouth and juice soaked into her pout. She was perfectly fine, even as she glanced up at her dad to help find words. You force a smile forward, smoothing the top of the messy ponytail Dean had put in her hair, “I’m glad you had fun with whatever, sweetie. Could you do mommy a favor? Head up to the bathroom, grab a baby wipe, and see if you can get your hands and face real clean.”

“Can daddy help me?”

“Oh no, baby,” You glare up at Dean, making your intentions clear, “Mommy and daddy have something really important to talk about.” You patted her shoulder as you got back up, “Go on.”

“Thank you, daddy!”

She hugs his legs once, tight, and races upstairs to do as told. Once she disappears around the corner, you grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him into the living room.

“I thought you’d be happy. I gave you a day off!”

“I’m only going to ask you once, and GOD so help me if you lie.” Your tone made it clear that he should panic, but he was cool as he removed his jacket and tossed it to the couch, “Where’d you take her?”

“I don’t know. You seem to be tracking my moves so let me know what you think.” Dean’s irritation adds fuel to your fire; as you cross your arms and tighten your jaw, he releases a heavy sigh, “It was a one time deal, (Y/N).”

“What the hell were you thinking!” You keep your voice down to an excited whisper, aware of the nosy child upstairs, “She is a baby, Dean!”

“She’s not a baby. She’s got more sense than half the people I work with.” His sarcasm causes you to shake your head; he sits, taking a moment rub his hands together, “Why don’t you ask me if she had fun? If she laughed or got scared? What about that, huh?”

“Of course she loved it, she was with you!” You unfold your arms, knowing you are being slightly overprotective; you can’t help it though, “She thinks you control the moon and sun.”

“That’s funny ‘cause that’s how I look at her.” Dean waits for you to turn towards him and extends a hand, “Come here.”

You hate the command especially as it leaves his beautiful mouth; he has the power to bring you down in seconds – something you love and hate him for. You do as he commands, placing your hand in his and following his tug. Sitting in his lap, you shut your eyes when he bumps his forehead against yours, the two of you remaining in that space.

“She’s our kid, (Y/N). She’s tough. She’s not glass…she won’t break.”

“I know that. I just…” You can’t tell him about the panic. How your stomach revolts when you think about your own child experiencing any of the past that you or Dean have lived with. You lift your hands up to his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, and push yourself to be honest, “I worry about the things she sees and hears. As fucked up as it sounds, I don’t want her to be like us.”

“I don’t want her to either.” He pulls back just a little, tunneling his stare into yours and stroking your back, “But she didn’t see or hear anything she hasn’t heard here or on the show. I took good care of her, Mama.”

His last word is accompanied with a playful pat of your backside, and you try to hide your smile, “I’m sorry for jumping down your throat, but I started to think about your scars and I—”

“I’m pretty proud of those.”

“I know and, don’t get me wrong, they’re kinda hot on you.” Your confession causes him to wiggle his eyebrows, “But I just want to keep her away from scars a little longer—metaphorically speaking.”

“Say no more, we will not go to another indy show until she’s ten.” You punch his shoulder, relieved when he laughs. Fixated on your uncertainty, he lightly shakes your position, “You trust me, right?”

“…with our lives.” You give in when his lips catch yours, tender and attentive; yet when he tries to deepen the joining, you cease all contact and leave his lap, “I have to go check on her.”

Dean becomes flustered, “What, wait, can’t you punish me or something? She can nap.”

Pairings: Dean Ambrose x Reader

Warning: Language

See, My Sun Won’t Shine

“(Y/N), you are not seriously considering what that crazy bat said!”

You ignored your friend’s words, stomping towards your car with your bag of crystals and books. All you could hear was the reader tell you, ‘It will end horribly. Just as it has in the past. You two are drawn to each other, but you are not meant to mix. It will lead to tragic ends.’

“(Y/N), I know you hear me!” Your best friend steps in front of you just as you are about open the driver’s door, “Okay, let me drive, while you try to breathe.”

You let her guide you to the passenger’s side, breathing in and out as though you are in Lamaze class. You drop into the seat, repeating the words mentally like a mantra. You’re going to lose him, and it’s going to be painful.

“You have to consider the source.”

“You’re going to tell me you didn’t feel her energy at all? That I’m hallucinating that we both got the chills walking by her!” There, you snap, and it feels good. It feels like a small release amidst an oncoming storm, “That’s right, we both felt it!”

“You’re nuts!” She presses the gas, thinking aloud, “I should’ve never agreed to go with you. Dean’s going to kill both of us.”

————————————————————-

You allow her to believe she’s calmed you down when she essentially drops herself off and gives you control of the wheel again. The truth is you just need silence, and you have to heavily consider the news you’ve received.

Dean understood the urge to know things outside of your control and knowledge, would readily listen as you discussed anything supernatural. There was no way to tell how he would react to this news.

You cell phone pings again, and you know it has to be him. You have not been able to move; you parked in this lot hours ago – it was deserted now. You swallow hard, reaching for your phone, and your screen informs you of three missed calls and twice that amount of text messages. You unlock the screen to see Dean’s last message to you.

Are you not coming home?

Not back, not here, but home – he knows you feel at home with him. You rub a hand over your face, starting the car and heading towards the apartment. You have no idea what you’re going to say; how do you break this kind of news?

When you’re aligned in your designated spot, you shut down the car and yourself. Maybe a day to process would be better.

————————————————————-

“No, man, I’m telling you she hasn’t called or anything. I don’t know what the fuck is going on.“

You wince at his words, knowing he has to be talking to Roman as you try to shut the door with no sound; you know it’s impossible to escape when his elevated voice announces, “Never mind, she just walked in.”

You set your clutch and keys on the table, moving towards the bedroom.

“(Y/N), what the hell!” Dean is on your heels, preventing you from crossing the threshold; his hand roots itself to the door frame, forcing you to either stare into his eyes or at his bicep. Either one is going to kill you, “Why didn’t you answer me? You were supposed to be gone a couple hours tops. It’s almost midnight.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” You maintain an even tone and meet his eyes with your own, blank as you can possible be, “I just had some stuff to get done.”

“That’s it? That’s all the explanation I get?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

You attempt to duck under his arm, only to have his hands lock onto your hips and force your body into the space of the door frame. Whether you want to or not, he is going to press this issue.

“Tough.” Dean stands inches away, a hint of anxiety in his darkened stare, “You’re going to talk to me now. Not tomorrow, not at the end of the week, not any second but now.”

“It’s stupid, okay!” He isn’t sure what you mean until you tug on your evil eye bracelet, “This! All of this stupid!”

“You love that shit. We both do.”

“Yeah, well not after today…”

“Why? What happened?”

“I got a reading today when we were at the stupid fair today.” You throw your head back against the frame, now needing to avoid his eyes, “And I can feel in my heart that it was accurate, but I didn’t—don’t want to believe a word of it.”

“Okay,” Dean stars to caress your arms, moving his fingers soothingly along your skin, “What was said that was so accurate?”

You can barely say the words as they are backed by bile; you swallow hard before whispering, “We aren’t supposed to be together.”

His eyes struck yours, nearly knocking you over with the hurt you saw – a similar reaction to your own. Dean stops his touch, backs up to the opposite side of the frame, and begins the nervous habit of tapping his collarbone.

You decide to continue, pinching your hands together, “She said this wasn’t our first go round. When we’ve met in past lives, we couldn’t stay away from each other. That we would always end up in some tragic situation. She said it would never work because our attraction doesn’t change the fact that we shouldn’t mix together.”

“And you believed her?”

You both did. Why would he act so surprised? You take a deep breath, “Dean, think about it. We’re great in the bedroom. That is phenomenal. But besides that? This interest in things beyond us is the only possible thing we have in common. We don’t like the same music. You hate my television shows, and I hate your movies. We argue whenever we feel like it, with little resolution outside of sex. We’ve never discussed marriage or children despite being together for almost two years. Her words make sense!”

Dean shakes his head, tucking his arms behind his neck, “I hear the things we do wrong, not hearing you say one thing we do right besides sex.”

‘’That’s part of the issue.”

“What about what we do for each other?” He invades your space again, his arms slithering along the walls on either side of you and creating another barrier to trap you, “You make me think before acting. I make you take chances. You make me laugh when I wanna punch a hole in the wall, and I make you feel safe.”

You can’t resist the urge to give him a sad, thoughtful smile.

“I get why you got scared by her. I might have been too. But it wouldn’t have lasted.” Dean takes your hands and rests them against his chest, crouching slightly and forcing you to become hypnotized by his gaze, “This lets me know that we’re beyond anything that anyone could ever tell us. No one else could be mine, not like this, and I could never belong elsewhere.’‘

“We are a ticking time bomb.” You poke at him, slightly relieved and still stressed, “Just waiting to blow everything up around us.”

“I like explosions, baby.”

A/N: I loved this idea! I hope you like the outcome!

Pairing: Dean Ambrose x Reader

Warning: Language

Everything’s on Me

“We’re about an hour away.”

Your announcement only amplifies your anxiety about the trip; not only did you have to worry about Thanksgiving with your nosy family, but your cousin planned to announce her pregnancy during the weekend from hell.

“It can’t be that bad.” Dean keeps his eyes on the road, well aware you are giving him a death stare, “It’s two days, (Y/N). Everything will be fine by the time we leave.”

You yank down the visor, continuing to check your image in the mirror, “The fact that I have to ask you, not only a friend but a co-worker, to pretend to be my boyfriend as everyone goes nuts this weekend should tell you something. And, trust me, they will interrogate you during the holiday hideaway from hell. You will probably ask me for a large a sum of money in return for your generous donation of time.”

Dean leans back in his chair, eyes still focused on the empty road, “Okay, so let’s get our stories straight. How long have we been dating?”

You slap the visor up, blowing out a breath, “Let’s keep it small. That way they won’t ask too many ‘history’ questions of us. Like funny couple stories that neither of us would be good lying about.”

“You think I can’t lie?”

“Not well. I’m already worried about how this is going to go without them seeing through your adorable dimples.”

He flashes them in response, glancing over at you, “You think they’re adorable, huh?”

“Shut up, and pay attention.” You tap your hands on your knees, “We met at work, and things progressed naturally. We only started dating a few weeks ago. Since it’s so new, I could probably get the questions to you cut in half.”

“Wait, wait, you know what else this means, right?” Dean’s question causes you to shake your head and shrug, “We have to be into each other. Hand holding, stupid jokes, a bunch of crap that newbies have to pretend to do…”

“Oh, you mean like each other?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, just do your best to be attracted to me, Deano.” Your comment caused him to narrow his eyes at you before they return to the road, “We can make it work.”

“Okay, so since we have time, let’s talk about our hypothetical relationship.” He scratches his chin with one hand, steering with the other, before setting it on the arm rest, “What kind of girlfriend are you?”

“An amazing one obviously.” You laugh at yourself, suddenly self-conscious. Thinking back to the last relationship you had, you tried to focus on the beautiful beginning and not the disastrous ending. You hang your head a little, beginning to think aloud, “I like to cook for you, and you love it. I care about how your day’s gone, and I’m as happy about your success as I would be for mine. I hate to admit it, but I love it when you let me do things for you.” You fail to notice how quiet the car is as you voice your ideals, “I love it when you hold me at night and kiss me in the morning. Stuff like that.”

Dean waits for you to be silent for a moment, your eyes wandering out the window, before asking, “And what kind of boyfriend am I?”

You grin, resting your head against the seat and rolling it in his direction, surprised to see his stare awaiting you, “Aren’t you supposed to answer that?”

“I’m curious what you think.”

“Okay, basing this solely on our friendship,” You chew your lip for a minute, considering the ways he already makes your life better, “I think you would make it your job to make me laugh when the world was getting on my last damn nerve. You’d hate being affectionate in front of everyone, but you’d love it when it was just the two of us. You’d tell me how you felt about everything, even it might hurt me, and I’d appreciate your honesty. You’d make sure I knew I had someone watching my back at all times.” When you see a crooked grin emerge on his lips, you look away – bothered by the slight twitch of your heart, “Stuff like that.”

He licks his lips, voicing his own thoughts, “So what kind of couple are we?”

“…the epic kind.” You conclude, the two of you smiling your way to silence.

—————————————-

When you get to the large cabin, the place rented out by your cousin’s new in-laws, you feel more intimidated than ever. Dean gathers your two bags, one slung over his shoulder and wheeling the other, and uses a free hand to take yours. You thank him with a squeeze of your fingers and lead him into the weekend of people in his business.

Dean claimed it was fine, mainly because he assumed the food would be better at your family’s place rather than in his fridge. Crossing the threshold, you are bombarded with hugs and awkward kisses – consistently announcing Dean as your man as you work the room. When he asks who’s who, you have to admit you don’t even recognize half of them. The headache is building from the back of your head forward, until your cousin offers to show you two to your guest room. You jump on the opportunity, relieved when you two find you are at the end of the hall on the first floor. You two are away from most of the family, as they’ve got huge rooms upstairs.

The room is a little small, mainly because of the huge bed, and you thank God that Dean’s a simple man; he just needs a spot to sleep, a full belly, and he’ll be fine. You wait for your cousin to disappear, her eyes lingering a little too much over Dean’s frame, and your shoulders slump in relief when she leaves the two of you alone.

Dean puts your things down, falling back onto the bed and bouncing up; you follow his lead, occupying the space beside him, and you can’t help yourself, “Have I told you how much I appreciate you doing this?”

“Yeah, you can stop now.”

—————————————-

You did not dream last night, exhausted after a blur of a dinner and the long car ride. As you hear the low rumble of people waking up and filling the downstairs, you become aware that you’ve made it through the first day.

Smiling to yourself, you adjust a little in your space and feel a heavy weight around your waist. You open your eyes halfway, looking down to see his arm curled around you, and roll over with caution. He’s still asleep and his warm breath grows a little heavier at your movement. You have seen him like this before, but it’s different when it’s right beside you – not accidently on your couch. You hate yourself for staring but can’t help it. He looks so damn at peace that you’re jealous, and you vaguely wonder when he had gotten this close last night.

He had handled everything perfectly yesterday, questions with ease despite his private nature. It was doubtful that you could ever repay him for his work this weekend, for saving your sanity and from embarrassment among all the fools of your family. You are racking your brain, trying to figure out what kind of huge gift you can get him as a thank you. You draw a blank.

Dean intakes a deep breath, slowly blinking his blue eyes open, and seems pleased to find you staring back at him. You open your mouth to say something, but the knock at your door interrupts your thought process.

Apparently, it doesn’t do the same for Dean as his lips are immediately pressed to yours; you react without thinking and hear the door creak open.

“I’m so sorry!” She’s not. Your cousin is one of the nosiest people in the world, and you know she was hoping to see more, “Um…we’re getting breakfast together whenever you two are ready…take your time with—whatever.”

Once you hear the door snap shut again, you tear your lips away from his and stifle a laugh, whispering, “That was perfect! She’s going to go flap her gums!” You are distracted until you feel his hand reach up to your cheek, his fingers somewhat tangling in your hair. Facing him again, you lose all sense of humor as you note his look. Curious, you lay your head on your pillow, “What’s wrong?”

Dean continues to stroke your wild strands, sighing, “Nothing, I was just…thinking about what you said yesterday.”

“What about it?”

“Maybe there’s some truth to it.” He moves his fingers down to your shoulder, massaging your muscle, “Maybe we would be good together.”

“Dean, don’t get confused by my bulldozing family.” You had thought about it too after watching him interact with them. The way he smiled some things off, honestly answered other questions, and the warmth of his hand in yours or his arm around you…it felt better than you wanted to admit. But the last thing you wanted was to push your good friend into some bullshit, “We have less than twenty-four hours to deal with them.”

“You haven’t thought about it?”

You gaze into his eyes again, too hypnotized to lie, “…I’ve thought about it.”

“And?”

“That line gets crossed…you can’t uncross it.”

“I’m aware.”

“And?”

Pairings: Seth Rollins x Reader

Warning: Suggestions?

Keeper

“They always do too much.” You pout, trying to find room for the food your family sent you home with, “Why did you agree to take all this, again? We have three days here anyway!” As you stand straight, eyeballing him over the refrigerator door, you see that he’s completely ignoring you, fidgeting with the iPod and sound system, “Don’t answer me that just tops our family dinner from boredom hell.”

“Come on, you didn’t like anything about tonight? Seeing your family? Your nieces and nephews?” Seth stops messing around, finally looking your way, “If we have to toss it, we can. I just didn’t have the heart to tell your mother we weren’t going to take anything.”

You blow out a breath, tossing the Tupperware onto the counter and moving around to the dining room where he stands, “Should I be mad that you do everything my mother says and still talk back to me?”

“Come here…” He ignores your comment with a slight smirk, extending his hand, “Dance with me.”

“Seriously?” You pout, removing your heels before taking his hand, “Those were killing me.”

“The reason you had to wear heels to a family dinner…?”

“This dress needed a pop of color, babe. Just accept that I have fashion sense. You don’t.” You let out a soft chuckle as he uses one swift movement to bring your body to his, “Although, you are looking pretty damn fine tonight. Jeans and button ups look good on you.”

“My girlfriend has a preference for me in jeans.”

“She’s sounds brilliant.”

“I think so.” Seth uses one hand to cradle one of yours against his chest; his other hand sits firmly at the base of your spine. He nuzzles your neck before adding, “She can also wear a black dress like no one else. Quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Now, you just sound like a lucky guy.” You tilt your head, allowing him better access to the curve of your neck, “You better appreciate her.”

Seth breathes heavily against your skin, “More than anyone else.”

When his lips kiss and suck at the pulse of your neck, you moan with the last of your strong breaths and give him the permission to work his magic. It isn’t long before your fingers are fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, his fingers are pulling the zipper down your back, and your lips are connecting of their own accord – a mixture of sweet and aggressive meetings.

You know this is a way to thank him for tonight. What other man asks for a family get together with his girl’s family for no real reason? He just wants to give you a chance to reconnect while you’re in town, and he lives to see you smile.

The mattress catches you both with a soft bounce and you share a laugh as he fidgets with your bra as you reach into his boxers, beginning to stroke him with a firm grip. Seth’s probably been ready for you all night as you both had a tough time keeping hands to yourself, unless in the company of others.

You stop when he tries to rip your bra off, way too happy with the fabric to let him ruin it. Once the material has been tossed aside, you and Seth take a minute to do the last part of undressing yourselves. Not a word is spoken until he’s inside of you; both of you letting out a groan at the feeling of connection. You meet his thrust with your own, smiling when the sounds he releases grow a little louder – daring you to challenge him and you do.

You manage to roll on top of him, riding him with a confident grin, as his hands cup your breasts; it becomes too much for him when you begin to pick up your pace, signaling that you’re on the verge of release. The second he’s regained his position, his hands have yours pinned beneath your bed pillows, and he thrusts into you, beginning to lose his calculated rhythm. Your fingernails dig into his skin, your fingers laced so tightly with his that they’ve lost color, as you two find and ride out the wave in unison.

You want to hold him, embrace him with a vice grip, but he begins to move his lips against yours in a tender motion, his body refusing to leave yours. Accepting this, you feel his fingers claw at the sheet and wonder if he’s already contemplating round two. That is until he parts his lips from yours and slips his fingers around yours. Without letting you see what he’s done, his bedroom ebony eyes find yours, “I love you, (Y/N).”

You submit under his stare, remaining still, “I love you, too.”

“Tonight…I had an agenda.” His announcement is shaky as he’s still slightly out of breath, “Maybe I needed this to go through it.” Licking his lips, he is nervous in a way you’ve never seen before, “I haven’t been this sure about anything in a really long time. I haven’t thought about anything outside of my career or been so positive I was doing the right thing…feeling fearless about just about everything because I have you.”

You blink, misty eyed at his proclamation and waiting for his conclusion.

“I don’t ever want to lose you or your crazy family…” Your mutual laughter interferes slightly with his speech, “or the life we have together. I can’t—won’t give up this feeling that I have. I have to keep it. Forever.” Seth drags your still joined hands from beneath the pillow, revealing the diamond on your ring finger, “So, tell me you’ll be my wife.”

Your jaw drops, too stunned to verbalize a damn syllable. His proposal was the last thing you expected tonight…maybe ever.

Seth knows it is a lot, his body departing yours as he helps you to seated position. With your legs still on either side of him, he releases your other hand to stroke your cheek, “I want to marry you. I want to have our own crazy family. I want to make you happy. All of that, it will make my life complete…please say yes.”

“But—wha—are you sure?”

“You’re not?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” You find courage by looking away from the ring and into his eyes, “You don’t have to do this. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t need anything from you to stay. I know you love me, and I love you. I trust you. If this is coming from some place of—”

“I want this, (Y/N).” Seth watches you carefully, kissing each of your fingers to linger along your ring finger, “Marry me.”