Work Text:
Wrassle Island Champions group chat: SVR 2011 version
Disclaimer: It's only a work of fiction, and I only ship the characters, not the people. Thanks for understanding.
Ships: CodyPunk & Shena
Characters: John Cena, Sheamus, Cody Rhodes, CM Punk, Jericho, JoMo, Maryse, Michelle
Wrassle Island VIP Champions WhatsApp Group Chat created by john_cena_HLR.
john_cena_HLR has added CelticWarrior_OS, the_shaman_JoMo, american_nightmare_3xchamp, BITW_434, break_tha_wallz_jericho, french_canadian_beauty, and flawless_OG_divaschamp.
All of them are online.
CelticWarrior_OS
😂 Drew thinks he’s got the measure of me. The man couldn’t outmatch me if I gave him a three-count head start and a map. United States Championship stays right here where it belongs.
john_cena_HLR
Babe. One minute. Just… one. You’re obsessed with him. 🙄🙄
Breathe. The belt’s on your shoulder, not his. Chill.
CelticWarrior_OS
I’m just sayin’....
john_cena_HLR
You’re sayin’ it every day. Anyway. Change of subject before you start shadow-boxing the group chat.
Backyard beach-view party. Tonight. My place on the island. Sunset side. Bring the gold. All of it. Photoshoot table, proper lighting, the works. The girls are gonna lose their minds.
french_canadian_beauty
Oui. Already packing the belts and the good lingerie for under the robes. Do it. 😉
flawless_OG_divaschamp
Say less. Diva's title is polished. I’m in. Beach, belts, chaos. Perfect.💕
american_nightmare_3xchamp
We’re in. Intercontinental and World Heavyweight will be present and accounted for.
BITW_434
Wouldn’t miss it. Especially if the American Nightmare is wearing that look he gets when the cameras come out.
break_tha_wallz_jericho
Fur coats. I’m already seeing it. JoMo and I are walking in like we own the shoreline. Championship gold under the fur. Iconic.
the_shaman_JoMo
Smirking so hard right now. Black fur, white fur, belts over the shoulders. We make the entrance, the rest of you just try to keep up.
CelticWarrior_OS
The pool’s heated. Bring swim trunks or don’t. I’m not responsible for what happens after the second round of shots.
john_cena_HLR
Titles stay on the big table under the cabana. Away from the splash zone. No damaged gold on my watch. Be here by seven. Don’t be late. And Sheamus, for the love of star bits, please stop talking about Drew for five fucking consecutive minutes. That’s an order.
CelticWarrior_OS
…Fine. For five minutes.
See you lot tonight, love. ☘️
Hours later, the backyard of the beach house on Wrassle Island was already glowing. String lights hung between palm posts. A long white table sat under the cabana, far enough from the infinity pool that no stray wave could kiss the gold.
Every championship belt in the group rested there in a neat, gleaming row: Intercontinental, World Heavyweight, Women’s, Tag Team, United States, WWE, Divas. The ocean breeze carried salt and the low thump of music.
Sheamus and John Cena were the first ones in the water. The Irishman cannonballed hard enough to send a sheet of water over the edge. Cena followed a second later, laughing, tan skin flashing under the lights. When they surfaced, the US Champ hooked an arm around Cena’s waist and raised the other hand high.
“Off-screen proposal’s official now, lads and ladies,” he announced, voice carrying across the yard. He lifted Cena’s left hand so the Celtic engagement ring caught every light. The thick band sat heavy on Cena’s finger, unmistakable. “He said yes. Obviously.”
Cheers rolled out from the deck: Maryse and Michelle whooping, Jericho and Morrison clapping, even a few sharp whistles. Only two people missed it entirely.
Under the wooden pier that stretched out over the darker water, Cody Rhodes had his back against a support post. CM Punk had him caged in, one hand in Cody’s blonde hair, the other already working the collar of his lover's open shirt. They kissed like the rest of the island had ceased to exist: slow, deep, possessive.
Punk dragged his mouth down the side of his lover's throat and bit just hard enough to leave a dark mark. The younger man's breath hitched. The world champion pulled back only long enough to take the thin black collar necklace from his own pocket, fasten it around Cody’s neck, and press a final kiss over the new bruise.
“Mine,” Punk murmured against the American Nightmare's skin. “Everyone else can look. They don’t get to touch.”
His answer was another kiss, harder this time, fingers curled in the fabric of Punk’s shirt.
Back at the pool, Sheamus and Cena climbed out dripping, still grinning. The group migrated toward the title table. Someone adjusted the portable lights. The first set of photos came easily.
Cody and Punk stood side by side, Intercontinental and World Heavyweight belts crossed over their chests. Punk’s hand stayed low on Cody’s back the entire time, thumb brushing the edge of the collar, where the other champions' eyes remained locked to the collar, murmuring to each other that he is Punk's bitch. The cameras caught the fresh mark on Cody’s neck and the quiet intensity between them.
Next were Sheamus and Cena. The United States and WWE titles draped over their now-dried shoulders. Sheamus kept Cena’s left hand in his so the ring stayed visible in every frame. John rolled his eyes once for the camera, but the smile never left.
Jericho and Morrison went full entrance mode: fur coats shrugged on over bare chests, tag titles held high, both of them smirking like they were already halfway down a ramp.
Maryse and Michelle took their turn last, Women’s and Divas belts centred, posing with the kind of easy confidence that made the rest of the group step back and let them have the light.
The sun finally dropped. Orange bled into deep purple across the water. Someone poured wine into stemless glasses. The eight champions gathered near the edge of the deck, belts still gleaming on the table behind them.
Glasses lifted.
“To the summer that just ended,” Cena said.
“To the gold that stays,” Sheamus added.
“To whatever comes next,” Punk finished, eyes still on Cody.
Glass touched glass in a soft, clear ring. The ocean kept moving. The lights stayed on a little longer. On Wrassle Island, the champions of both brands closed the season the only way that felt right: together, loud, and completely themselves.
End <3