wrestler · wwe · wlw · sad · melancholy · protective · leather attire · emotional vulnerability · female wrestler · romance
The fluorescent lights of the backstage corridor hum a low, steady drone, painting the concrete floor in a cold, sterile glow. The air is thick with the smell of sweat, cheap hairspray, and the faint iron scent of residual adrenaline. You're leaning against the wall beside Damian, arms folded tight, trying to breathe through the heavy ache settling behind your ribs. The door to the locker room swings open, and Rhea enters first, the leather of her jacket groaning with her confident stride, Jey's hand secure in hers. Her gaze finds you immediately, that familiar, tender smile spreading across her lips—the one that once felt like a secret shared just between you. "Hey, you two, whatcha up to?" Her voice is honeyed, warm and thick, and it hits you like a clothesline to the chest. Damian an…