Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15*, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18
     Stiles speeds through multiple different alleyways in Beacon Hills as Scott and Fallon stick their heads out of his windows. The brunette closes her eyes, trying to concentrate her hearing on the particular sounds of the Kanima. She hears the loud, ear piercing screech and she shouts, âTake a left!â
Stiles does as instructed, but he almost launches his two best friends out of their seats as he roughly slams on the breaks. There are tire spikes lined on the concrete below, preventing the Jeep from moving any further.Â
Theyâre wasting time. Fallon is quick to scramble over the seats, following after Scott as they scurry out of the Jeep. Stiles doesnât even have time to process that his friends have already left the vehicle. âWhat do we do now?â His jaw hits the floor when he sees both of them already on the other side of the large fence in front of him. The human boy throws his hands up in defeat, even more angry that heâs now the only non-supernatural one in the friend group.
They bolt through the darkness, Fallon following the sound of growling and grunting. She smells something familiar. Derek. Of course heâs already here. But it hasnât been long. Scott and her have to be only a few minutes, maybe even seconds behind him.Â
Her eyes widen as she watches Derek flip before kicking the Kanima into a stone pillar. Itâs not dazed for long though as he climbs up another one of the support beams, taking out one of the many light bulbs hanging above. Sparks fly causing a blinding light to block their vision. The Kanima grabs Derek by the collar of his jacket before tossing him across the pavement.
Two headlights appear in the distance, pulling the creatureâs attention away from Derek. Fallon can already tell that itâs the Argentâs based off of the silhouette of the black SUV. The girl runs over to Derek, pulling him off the ground before running a safe distance away where Chris and Gerard wouldnât see them.Â
âWhat the hell are you doing here?â Derek seethes, his eyes still bright red, not bothering to shift back.Â
âSaving your stupid ass apparently,â Fallon snaps back just as angrily. His wolfed out form doesnât faze her. Personally, she thinks the way she looks when transformed is ten times scarier than Derek. But that might just be her own personal bias.Â
âI donât need your help,â he grunts out, getting ready to walk away.
âReally?â She scoffs, crossing her arms. ââCause from what I just witnessed you were getting your face bashed in. And if I didnât show up when I did, you mightâve ended up getting murdered by the Argentâs too.â She grabs his wrist, stopping him from moving away from her. âYou donât have to go after Jackson alone,â she tells him. âWe can help you.âÂ
âNo, you canâtâ he shakes his head stubbornly. His eyes finally turn back to their gorgeous green as they bore frustratedly into hers. âYouâll only help me if I agree to let him live.âÂ
âI donât really think thatâs too much to ask, Derek,â Fallon exclaims. âHeâs a human being who just happened to take an unfortunate supernatural shape. Iâm not exactly Jacksonâs biggest fan, but he doesnât deserve to die. We need to at least try and save him.âÂ
The brunette huffs, âI know.â She runs a hand through her hair, âBut he canât control it. Iâm not trying to justify his behavior, but itâs not fair to hold him accountable for something when heâs not in his right mind. Itâs not his fault. He doesnât know what heâs doing.âÂ
âI thought Scott was supposed to be the annoyingly noble one,â Derek snarks. Heâs not trying to be rude to the girl, but he knows if anyone can sway him away from this mission, itâll be her. She has a way of calming him down, of preventing him from being angry. It scares him. Anger is something heâs held onto. Itâs been a constant, and she somehow makes it dissipate. He canât let that happen. Not right now.Â
The harshness of his words do leave an impact on the girl. She doesnât flinch, but her expression does harden. âIâm not being annoyingly noble. Iâm expressing empathy and trying to be a good person. You should try it sometime.âÂ
That hits Derek where it hurts. Sheâs one of the only people who ever considered him to be good. The way her heart rate increases, he knows she doesnât mean it, sheâs just upset. But it still stings nonetheless. âIâm protecting innocent people from getting hurt. And if killing Jackson makes me the bad guy, then so be it.âÂ
âWhy canât saving everyone be an option?â Fallon asks him genuinely. âI get there are some cases where that isnât possible, but this isnât one of them. We can save everyone.âÂ
âHow do you know that?â Derek challenges her. âDo you have some great plan that none of us know about? Where you know how to stop Jackson while also saving him? Because if you do, please enlighten me.âÂ
âYou donât have to be such a dick all the time,â the girl scoffs.Â
âDo. You. Have. A. Plan?âÂ
âNot right now!â She says, frustrated with not only him, but herself. âBut weâre trying. Thatâs why weâre out here catching him. Which, again, is something we should all be doing together, not alone,â she reminds.Â
âIâm not going to waste my time trying to save someone who isnât worth saving.âÂ
âWell, what if it was me?â Fallon raises her eyebrows, taking a step forward. Derekâs face is still stoic as ever as she gets closer. âWhat if I was the Kanima? Would you still kill me? Even though Iâm not in full control?âÂ
He looks away from her, the muscle in his jaw ticking. Thatâs all the answer she needs. He wouldnât. Thatâs why he canât answer her, because he knows sheâs right.Â
âWould you?â She eggs on, wanting to hear him say it.Â
âNo,â he replies shortly. âI wouldnât.âÂ
âThen why canât we give Jackson that same grace?â Fallon asks exasperatedly.Â
âBecause this is different!â He exclaims.
Fallon looks at him incredulously, âHow?!âÂ
âIt just is!â Derek stares at her, more than frustrated. He doesnât understand why she always feels the need to challenge him.Â
âOh yeah, âcause that explains so much,â the brunette remarks sarcastically. âIs there ever a time where youâre not so damn cryptic?! Why canât you just give me a straight answer? Why is it different?â She demands.
âBecause heâs not you!â Derek finally snaps. âI know you. I wouldnât kill you. I couldnât kill you.âÂ
Fallon freezes. Thatâs not the answer she was expecting, but the aggressiveness on her face fades. Her eyes soften as she stares at him. Itâs different when he said he wouldnât kill her compared to couldnât. Derek looks almost embarrassed for a moment, but heâs quick to cover it up. His tense posture returns, âThatâs why itâs different,â he says stiffly.Â
Fallon shoves her hands in her pockets, âOkay⊠I get it,â she says quietly. Her surprise at his answer, stops her from fighting him as much. In his own odd way, this is his way of confessing how much he cares about her. âBut once we do come up with a plan, will you at least hear us out?âÂ
âIf I think itâll work, sure,â he shrugs. âBut donât expect me to go along with it.âÂ
Fallon nods her head in understanding. She sends him a small, toothless smile before turning on her heel to walk away. Derek furrows his eyebrows, âWhere are you going?âÂ
âTo find Jackson.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Fallon runs as fast as she can, quickly approaching the night club Scott told her to meet him and Stiles at. She figured Scott caught the Kanimaâs scent or saw which direction it went in. She wishes she couldâve been more helpful, but Derek proves to be a pretty good distraction.Â
She finally notices Scott hugging the wall at the corner of the building. Heâs hiding in the shadows, trying to avoid being spotted. She carefully approaches him, keeping her own eyes peeled for the scaly creature. As she gets closer, she watches as Stiles also scrambles up to where Scott is hiding.Â
âWhere did you go?â Scott asks her with furrowed brows. âYou disappeared after we jumped the fence.âÂ
âSorry,â Fallon apologizes with a sigh. âI got a little preoccupied making sure Derek didnât get himself killed.â
âDerek was there?â Stilesâ jaw drops.Â
âYeah, he found Jackson first,â Fallon reveals. âHe was in the middle of fighting him when the Argentâs showed up. So I pulled him to the side to make sure he wasnât seen,â she explains.Â
âWell, did either of you guys see where he went?â Stiles questions.Â
Fallon shakes her head, âI only saw him briefly before I went to get Derek.âÂ
âI lost him too,â Scott says, peeking around the corner.
âWhat?â Stiles looks at him in disbelief. âYou couldnât catch his scent?âÂ
âI donât think he has one,â Scott tells him thoughtfully.Â
âAll right, any clue where heâs going?â Stiles asks his two werewolf friends, hoping they have some sort of idea.
âTo kill someone,â Fallon scoffs out humorlessly. âSeems to be his staple.â
âAh. That explains the claws, and the fangs, and all that,â Stiles nods his head sarcastically. âGood. Makes perfect sense now.â Fallon and Scott narrow their eyes at him, silently telling him that now is not the time. âWhat?â Freckles says, starting to feel the need to defend himself. âGuys, come on. I'm one hundred and forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile boneâ sarcasm is my only defense!âÂ
âJust help us find it,â Scott huffs out, turning away from Stiles, not wanting to address his comment.
âOkay, the Kanima isnât an âit,ââ Fallon corrects. âItâs a he and he is Jackson.âÂ
âYeah, I know,â Scott eyes her briefly before turning back to the line of guests filing into the club.Â
Stiles leans forward to look with them, âAll right, but does he know that?â
âNo,â Fallon answers him, her eyes carefully scanning over the crowd. âJackson thinks he hasnât turned into anything. He told Derek that nothing happened to him on the full moon. If he knew he was turning into a scaly lizard monster, Iâm sure heâd be acting a lot more cocky.âÂ
Stiles nods along with her statement before turning back to Scott, âDid anybody else see him back at your house?â He presses on.
âI mean, I donât think so,â he shrugs. âBut he already passed Derekâs test anyway,â the boy glances back at his friends, confused.Â
âYeah, but that's just the thingâ how did he pass the test?â Stiles presses.Â
âI don't know,â Scott says unsurely.Â
That's when the two boys glance at Fallon. She can feel their eyes drilling holes into the back of her head, but she ignores them. Her eyes stay trained on the growing line of men entering the club, but Scott and Stiles make it practically impossible to focus. Scott sighs, trying to get her attention. Then Stiles goes one level louder. Cue Scott once more, and finally Stiles overdramatically throws his hands up, doing a mix of a grunt and a sigh.Â
âWhy is it always me?!â She finally turns, slapping her hands on her thighs with a huff. âWhy do I always have to have the answers?âÂ
âBecause Derek tells you these kinds of things!â Stiles exclaims.Â
âNo, he doesnât!â She yells back. âItâs very rare that he feels generous enough to tell me whatâs going on. And even if he did, I wouldnât tell you guys because you would just get mad at him for not telling you first,â she whisper-seethes.Â
Scott blinks, âSo he does tell you things?âÂ
Fallon sucks in an annoyed breath, âDerek said a snake canât be poisoned by its own venom. Now, I know this is asking a lot of you guys, but I need you to use your brains for a second,â the boys glare at her for the slight insult. âWhen is the Kanima not the Kanima?âÂ
The boys look at each other with an expression of realization, âWhen itâs Jackson.âÂ
âExactly,â Fallon nods. âTherefore, Jackson can be poisoned by the venom because he isnât the Kanima at that point.â She huffs before looking at them, âSo now that we got that out of the way, why donât we head back home and we can jump Jackson when we go to school? Since we clearly have no idea where he is.â
When neither of them answer, her eyebrows furrow. Stilesâ eye line goes up as he throws his hands in the air. Fallon squeezes her eyes shut, âWhat now?â She asks.
âUh⊠do you see that?â Stiles manages to get out. They all look to the roof to see a small snippet of the Kanimaâs tail creeping into the club.
âDamn it,â the girl grumbles. âWell, now what? I mean, why would he even want to go in there?âÂ
Thereâs a small pause between them before Scott speaks up, âI know who heâs after,â he says, breaking out of his daze.Â
âWhat?â Stiles looks at him confused. âHow? Did you smell something?âÂ
âArmani.âÂ
Fallon crosses her arms, âOkay, Scott? Youâre gonna have to be a little more specific than that. Iâm pretty sure every dude whoâs walked into that club probably uses Armani.â
âItâs Danny,â Scott tells her exasperatedly, pointing over to the line where said boy struts into the club. âHe told me he wears Armani. Itâs his aftershave.â
Stiles brushed past both of them and tried to open up the back door to the club. The door handle doesnât even budge. The boy sighs frustratedly before examining the area around them, trying to find a way in. âAll right, maybe there's, like, a uh-like, a window we could climb through, or some kind ofââ
Heâs cut off by the sound of metal clanging, and a cold door handle being put in his hand. He turns around to see Fallon walking into the club with a smug smirk while Scott just stands there, watching his girl best friend in awe. Scott and Stiles make eye contact, the former shrugging with a dopey grin before he follows after Fallon.Â
Stiles blinks, ââŠHandle that we could rip off with supernatural strength? How'd I not think of that one?â He asks himself before turning to walk in behind his friends.
The club itself is practically buzzing with the nightlife that fills it. The techno pop plays loudly as multicolored lights flash in every direction. Itâs dark and difficult to see, unless the lights are shining in just the right places. Fallonâs head moves back and forth analytically as she tries to pick up on any sign of Jackson. She takes in her surroundings, fully focused on making sure no one dies tonight.
The one thing she notices is that every patron of Jungle seems to be a guy. That's when her eyes widen in realization. No wonder Dannyâs here. Theyâre in a gay club.Â
âGuys, everyone in here is a dude!â Scott tells her the music, a little late in deducting their situation. âI think weâre in a gay club.âÂ
âMan, nothing gets past those keen Werewolf senses, huh, Scott?â Stiles remarks sarcastically, making both Scott and Fallon turn to face him. The latter places a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from snorting as three fabulously dressed drag queens surround him, the one on his side slowly stroking his ear.Â
âAt least you got the answer to your million dollar question,â Fallon smirks. âYou are attractive to gay guys.âÂ
Stiles laughs sarcastically before walking over to her and smacking her upside the head. âArenât you just so funny?âÂ
âI like to think of myself as the comedian of the group,â She keeps the same cocky grin on her face. Stiles hates that he loves her sometimes.Â
The two of them follow after Scott who beelines it towards the bar right as Danny leaves. The brunette girl shakes her head as Stiles and Scott practically scramble into their seats. âTwo beers,â Stiles requests, his demeanor in no way giving off that heâs twenty-one.Â
The bartender raises a skeptical eyebrow at Stiles and Scott, âIDâs?âÂ
Fallon plasters on her best confident face before smoothly sliding up to the bar. She smiles softly before nodding to the boys, âTheyâre with me,â she says, handing him the fake ID Lydia helped her get a year ago. Sheâs never really had an opportunity to use it, so this is a very big moment for her.Â
The bartender looks at it and nods his head before handing it back to her. âHow about two cokes for your friends?â He suggests, still not believing the boys are of age.Â
Fallon shrugs, âI think that would probably be best.âÂ
Stiles and Scott watch with dropped jaws as the bartender walks away before returning to Fallon with an ice cold beer and two cups filled with coke. They both slowly turn to look at the girl as she tips the bottle back, a satisfied sigh leaving her lips. Again, Fallon isnât much of a drinker, but she does enjoy the taste of beer every once in a while. Besides, now that sheâs no longer able to get drunk, thereâs no harm in it,Â
âOkay, there is no way you look older than us,â Stiles says to her in disbelief.Â
âItâs all about how you carry yourself, Sti,â Fallon tells him with a wink. âConfidence is key, yâknow.âÂ
âHow did you even get a fake ID that good?â Scott asks, looking at the card in her hand. âOurs suck.âÂ
âBeing friends with Lydia has its perks,â she puts simply.Â
Suddenly another bartender slides up with an extra drink, putting it in front of Scott. The man smiles charmingly, âThat oneâs paid for,â he reveals, nodding over to another man who sits across the bar. He raises his cup up to cheers with Scott. Fallon grins as Scott looks a little over excited at the prospect of getting attention.Â
Stiles rolls his eyes at Scottâs smile, âOh, shut up,â he grumbles, now being the only one with a coke in his hand.Â
âI didnât say anythingâŠâ Scott says with a bashful expression.Â
âYeah, well, your face did,â Stiles remarks.Â
âHey, look on the bright side,â Fallon pats Stilesâ back. âThey used to put cocaine in coke. So that's something...âÂ
Stiles goes to say something else snarky but heâs cut off when he notices Danny dancing across the way. He pats Scottâs shoulder, âHey, I found Danny.âÂ
A beat of silence passes, â⊠I found Jackson,â Scott replies, eyes wide as he watches Jackson move through the rafters on the ceiling. They all swallow thickly, moving backwards slightly at the golden slitted eyes staring at them harshly. Scott regains his composure, âStiles, get Danny. Fall, come with me.âÂ
âWait, what?â Stiles turns his head towards his two best friends with an almost offended look on his face. âWhat are you two gonna do?âÂ
Scott whips his hand down to his side, his claws emerging in a threatening way. At the same time, Fallon flashes her purple eyes, a small grin on her face. Stiles nods in understanding, âThat works,â he says before turning on his heel. He maneuvers his way through the club, eyes solely focused on Danny.Â
Scott nods in the direction Jackson went, âLetâs goâŠâÂ
Jackson slowly crawls through the ceiling, his eyes trailing menacingly over the crowd. Scott and Fallon follow after him, never looking away from the ceiling. The music makes Fallonâs head thump wildly. Out of nowhere, an ungodly amount of fog starts to fill the large club. Fallon coughs into her arm as some of it makes its way into her mouth. This must be Jacksonâs perfect hunting ground. His prey canât see a thing, but he can.Â
Scott and Fallon both turn on their heels, trying to spot where the Kanima went. The brunette girl grimaces as she feels bodies grinding on her as she walks. She tries her best to ignore it, knowing theyâre in a club so it's to be expected. âI donât see him!â She yells over the music to Scott.Â
Suddenly bodies start dropping one by one. No one seems to notice right away because itâs all happening in one concentrated area. âNevermind!â Fallon shouts again before her and Scott dart over to that part of the club.Â
Scott and Fallonâs eyes widen when they watch Dannyâs body hit the floor. âJackson!â Scott calls out, hoping he can appeal to the very little humanity the blonde has in the first place.Â
Fallon rushes forward, her eyes flashing purple as she tries to get to Jackson before he can hurt Danny. Scott launches forward, trying to pull her back, âFall, stop!â He yells, but itâs too late. Sheâs already on her way to the scaly creature.Â
As Fallon goes to strike, the Kanima spins around, a loud screech leaving its mouth as he raises his claws up to the brunette. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a pair of familiar red eyes appears in front of her. Sheâs pulled out of the way and into the muscular chest of Derek. His eyes are blazing red, his fangs fully bared.Â
âAre you okay?â He rushes out, his eyes scanning her face.Â
âDerek?â Fallon looks at him confused. âWhaâ yeah, Iâm fine. What are you doing here?âÂ
âDoing what I said I would,â he replies before pushing her safely behind him and beelining it for Jackson.Â
Fallonâs eyes widen as she realizes heâs going to try and kill the blonde boy. They just had this conversation. âDerek, donât!â She screams, but his claws have already slashed through the Kanimaâs throat by the time the word âdonâtâ left her lips.
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     âWhat the hell were you thinking?â Fallon seethes to Derek as they stand on the outside of the club. Theyâre hidden in the shadows by Stilesâ jeep as Stiles and Scott try to keep Jackson contained in the backseat. âYou said youâd let us handle it.âÂ
âNo, I said Iâd hear you out once you had a plan,â Derek corrects, his arms crossed. âAnd as far as Iâve heard, you donât have one yet. So Iâm going to continue with what I was doing.âÂ
Fallon throws her hands up in exasperation, âAre you kidding me?! Derek. You havenât even given me twenty-four hours.âÂ
âAnd if I had, from the looks of it, Jackson wouldâve killed you,â he says matter-of-factly. âSince you apparently have no common sense and decided to go after him on your own.â
âScott was right behind me!â Fallon justifies.Â
âNo,â Derek takes a step forward. âNo, he wasnât. You get tunnel vision and think you can handle everything on your own. You canât.âÂ
âThatâs really funny coming from you,â she replies with no hesitation. âDidnât you just go after him by yourself less than two hours ago?âÂ
âIâm an Alpha.âÂ
âIâm an Alpha,â Fallon mocks him, making a ridiculous face along with the shift in her tone. âShut up. I donât give a rat's ass if youâre the Alpha. Youâre being a hypocrite.âÂ
Derek rolls his eyes, âI have certain skills you havenât even learned about yet,â he points out. âItâs different.âÂ
âI have never wanted to smack you harder,â she deadpans.Â
âIâd like to see you try,â Derek challenges, his expression almost amused.Â
Fallon frowns, her fists clenching as she truly debates hitting him. But ultimately she decides against it. An annoyed groan leaves her lips and she blows out a dramatic puff of air. âCanât you at least give us a day to figure out what to do with him?â She pleads. âIf we donât come up with something, then itâs free game.âÂ
Derek glances back at the jeep and watches as Stiles and Scott whisper-yell at each other as they try to get Jackson to stop moving in the backseat. In his mind, thereâs no way theyâll come up with anything worthwhile. He doesnât want to waste any time. But the way Fallon is looking at him, her eyes begging for just one shot.Â
âJust trust me,â she says in an almost whisper.Â
The muscle in his jaw ticks, but anyone could see on his face that he was giving in. âI do trust you,â he admits quietly. He sighs begrudgingly before nodding at her to head back to the boys, âGo. Figure something out before I change my mind.âÂ
Fallon smiles and moves to go around him but stops herself. She pauses, making Derek furrow his eyebrows. The only thing he can compare to what she looks like is a robot short circuiting. His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as he suddenly feels her arms awkwardly wrap around his shoulders. Itâs brief and lasts about half a second before she takes off towards Stiles who is now talking to his father.
Derek blinks, not fully processing what just happened. Thereâs a certain coldness that covers him now that the warmth of her body isnât there. He scowls at the odd feeling before disappearing into the shadows.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â Noah sighs exasperatedly as he looks at his son.Â
âWhat do you mean, what am I doing here? It's a club,â Stiles flails his arms around. âItâs a club. We were clubbing, you know⊠at the club.âÂ
âStop talking,â Fallon whispers into his ear as she walks up to them. Stiles jumps slightly, not having seen her coming, but he covers it up with a cough.Â
Noah glances back at Jungle, âNot exactly your guysâ type of club,â he comments. âEspecially since Fallonâs a girlâŠâ
Stiles rubs the back of his neck, âUh, well, Dad, there's a conversation that weââ
âYouâre not gay,â Noah cuts him off matter-of-factly.
Stilesâ jaw drops, almost offended by his fatherâs words. âWhaâŠ? I could be.âÂ
âNot dressed like that,â Fallon chimes in, giving his flannel and t-shirt a once over.Â
Noah nods along in agreement, âSee?â He points to the girl. âSo why donât you try telling me whatâs really going on here? This is the second crime scene that you just happened to have shown up on. And, at this point, I've been fed so many lies, I'm not sure I know the kid standing in front of me.â
âDad, Iâ IââÂ
âOne of you needs to tell me the truth. Now,â Noah demands, shooting them the disappointed look that Fallon absolutely hates. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from revealing every supernatural secret sheâs acquired over the past few months.Â
âThe truth?â Stiles swallows thickly as he looks at Fallon for help. âAll right... Well, the truth is that we were hereâŠâ he pauses not having a lie fully formulated.Â
âWith Danny,â Fallon finishes, pointing to the boy whoâs being loaded into an ambulance. âHeâs one of my closest friends and he just broke up with his boyfriend, so, you know, I told him Iâd take him out, and Stiles and Scott wanted to come so we could get his mind off things,â she explains, making Stiles let out a relieved breath. He doesnât understand how she can naturally come up with the most believable excuses.Â
Noah narrows his eyes and for a moment Fallon doesnât think he believes her. She has to fight off the wince that wants to cover her face, but thankfully the sheriff grins approvingly. âWell, that's really good of you guys. You're good friends.âÂ
After Noah lets them go, the two teens climb into the jeep, Fallon groaning as she realizes sheâs going to be stuck in the back with Jackson. She glowers at her two best friends, âYou both owe me⊠big time,â she huffs, buckling her seatbelt, careful not to disturb the freshly knocked out Kanima.Â
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     âOkay, when you said you had a plan I didnât think kidnapping would be a part of it!â Fallon seethes as she glares at Stiles. âI just got Derek off our asses because I told him weâd come up with a viable solution. Thisââ she gesticulates wildly to the prison van where they are holding Jackson hostage, âis not a solution!âÂ
âAt least I did something!â Stiles scoffs. âItâs not like Iâm trying to actively kill him like your new best friend is,â he says, referencing Derek. âI even bought the asshole food. You know, he should be grateful weâre the ones who kidnapped him.âÂ
âOh no. No, no, no, no. There is no we,â Fallon states, her voice calm despite how angry she looks. âThis is a you and Scott thing. I will not be going to jail for a felony I didnât agree to.âÂ
âWill you just come in with me?â Stiles huffs out frustratedly. âI need a witness just in case he tries to kill me. Besides, if he turns into the Kanima, if youâre in there maybe heâll leave us alone since he canât kill you.âÂ
Fallon glares at him but ultimately gives in. She grumbles a plethora of profanities under her breath making the tips of Stilesâ ears turn pink, having never heard her use some of those words before. He opens the doors to the van, easily sliding in across from Jackson who looks ready to strangle the spaz in front of him. Fallon follows in shortly, sending Jackson an awkward nod as she sits down next to her best friend.Â
âOkay, I bought you some fooââ
The chains wrapped around Jackson rattle loudly as the blonde tries to escape their hold. âLet me out now!â He yells loudly, his jaw clenched tighter than Fallonâs ever seen it.Â
She honestly wants to let him out. Locking him in a stolen van was never something she planned on doing. She thought they wouldâve at least pulled him aside and tried to talk to him about the Kanima before kidnapping him. Jacksonâs not in control of himself. Itâs wrong to blame him for something he isnât even aware of.Â
âYou know, I put those pants on you, all right, buddy? One leg at a time. Being all up-close-and-personal with your junk wasn't exactly a highlight of my day.â Fallon cringes at the thought as Stiles continues, âSo, don't think this is fun for me, either. You know, we're actually doing you a favor?â
âIâd just like to clarify again, there is no we. I did not agree to holding you hostage in a van,â Fallon chimes in. âI thought we were going to take you to one of our houses to explain whatâs going on. Not commit a felony.âÂ
Jackson looks between the two of them, âI donât care!â He yells loudly, yanking the chains once again. âDo you dumbasses really think this is doing me a favor?â
As much as Fallon wants to deny it, there is some real morality behind holding him hostage. Itâs either get arrested for kidnapping and stealing a prison van or let the Kanima run free. The former option is definitely the lesser of two evils.
âYes!â Stiles exclaims. âYouâreâYouâre killing people⊠to death.â
Fallon pats his back, âThatâs what the word killing usually implies, Sti.âÂ
âShut up,â he grumbles before looking back at Jackson. âAnd, until we can figure out how to stop you, you're gonna stay in here. I'm sorry.â He shrugs remorselessly before pulling out two sandwiches, âNow, you want the ham and cheese, or the turkey club?â
âYou actually think my parents wonât be looking for me?â Jackson asks them incredulously, his eyes narrowed.Â
âUh, well, not if they don't think anything's wrong.â Stiles pulls Jacksonâs phone out of his pocket with a victorious smile plastered on his face. âYeah.â He sighs when Jackson still doesnât make a move for either sandwich, âWell, if youâre not gonna pick, Iâll take the club,â he shrugs, leaving the ham and cheese next to Jackson before maneuvering out of the van.Â
Fallon goes to follow after him but pauses to look back at Jackson, âIf you want, I can go pick you up a pb&j from Mrs. Ellisâs bakery if you want? I know you liked it when we were kids.â
Jackson tilts his head, his interest piqued. His stomach growls lowly at the thought, âYeah. Least you could do for keeping me locked up here,â he covers up his surprise of her kind offer by being a jerk.Â
Fallon grins slightly, âAll right. Iâll be back in twenty.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Jackson bites into the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that Fallon holds in front of his mouth. He hums quietly, appreciating the perfectly toasted bread hitting his tongue, complimenting the mix of raspberry and blackberry jelly quite nicely. âScales?â He scoffs, narrowing his eyes at Stiles as he swallows the rest of his food. âLike a fish?âÂ
âActually, itâs more reptilian than anything,â Fallon chimes in, offering their temporary hostage a drink of water. He takes a sip from the straw inside of it as Stiles nod along.
âUm, and, uh... your claws have this liquid that paralyzes people, and you have a tail,â he adds.
Jacksonâs eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, âI have a tail?!â He looks at Fallon as he doesnât trust Stiles or anything he says.Â
She nods with a small shrug, âUnfortunately⊠Itâs actually pretty cool when you think about it,â she adds absentmindedly.Â
âMmm,â Jackson purses his lips sarcastically. âDoes it do anything?âÂ
âNo,â Stiles shakes his head earnestly. âNot that we know of.âÂ
Jackson smiles sarcastically. He lets out a half laugh, half scoff, âCan I use it to strangle you?âÂ
Stiles sighs defeatedly at Jacksonâs aggression, slumping further into the wall. âYeah, and you still don't believe us. All right.â He sits up, coming up with a way to try and make him believe, âThe night of the semi-final gameâ what did you do right after?â
âI went home,â Jackson shrugs.
âAre you sure about that?â Stiles presses making Jackson huff loudly in annoyance.Â
âYes, you idiot!â He exclaims frustratedly. âWhat the hell else would I do?âÂ
âYou attacked me, Derek, and Fallon at the school, and you trapped us in the pool!â Stiles waves his hands around exasperatedly. âYou also killed a mechanicâ right in front of me, by the way, that was lovely. And, one of Argent's Hunters. Oh, and last night, you tried to kill Danny,â he lists off with a high sense of urgency. They need him to believe them so he can understand why they kidnapped him.
Jackson furrows his eyebrows, âWhy would I want to kill my best friend?âÂ
âThatâs what Scott is trying to figure out,â Fallon answers calmly. She takes a napkin and wipes the corner of Jacksonâs mouth to clean it from the jelly. âHeâs probably talking to Danny now.âÂ
âMmm. Well, maybe, what he should be trying to figure out is how he's going to pay for a lawyer when I prosecute your asses all the way to jail!â The blonde yells, making Fallon roll her eyes at his dramatics. Anyone would think that after all the trouble she went through to keep him comfortable that heâd be a bit more grateful.
âOkay, well, you can prosecute us all you want. Doesnât change the fact that youâre still a killer lizard man,â Fallon tells him, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. âSo riddle me this, on the night of the full moon after Derek bit you, what happened?âÂ
The muscle in Jacksonâs jaw twitches. Heâs angry, she can smell it on him. âNothingââ he grumbles. âNothing happened.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     âWhy are you being so nice to him?â Stiles asks Fallon as they make themselves comfortable in the front seat of the van. âGoing out to get him a special sandwich, giving him water, wiping his mouth like heâs a little baby bird,â he rambles off, taking a bite of his own sandwich. âI thought you didnât like him anymore.âÂ
âIt has nothing to do with liking him,â Fallon replies, closing her eyes as she leans her head back on her seat. She kicks her feet up on the dash with a relaxed hum. âBut we did kidnap him and are currently holding him against his will. The least we could do is try to make him comfortable so he doesnât actually send our asses to jail.âÂ
âWeâre not going to jail,â Stiles shakes his head.Â
âI donât know if you realize this, but weâre currently committing like three or more different felonies right now,â she deadpans. âAnd this also isnât going to reflect very well on your dad. Having a son and his two best friends stealing a prison transport van and kidnapping someone isnât going to make the county sheriff look good.âÂ
Stiles pauses, mulling over her words. He chews his sandwich slowly. Sheâs right. He didnât even consider how his actions would affect his father. Heâs really only been worried about keeping people safe from Jackson while also keeping Jackson safe from Derek.Â
Fallon sighs, realizing the way she said that might have come off a bit more harsh than intended. âLook Sti, Iâm not saying youâre gonna single-handedly make him lose his job, Iâm just saying we have to play our cards correctly. We need Jackson to listen to us and taking the aggressive route is just going to make things worse.âÂ
He pauses, nodding slowly after a moment, âItâs just hard, yâknowâŠ? Especially since heâs an astronomical asshole.âÂ
Fallon reaches over, patting his thigh comfortingly. âI know, freckles. Heâs not the easiest person to be around. But heâs confused and angry about a lot of things. Like youâve always said, he could use some anger management classes.â She smiles jokingly at him, evoking a small chuckle to erupt from his chest.Â
âClearly he doesnât hate you as much as he pretends to,â Stiles jokes back, jabbing her side. âEven as the Kanima he canât seem to hurt you.â
âYeahâŠâ Fallon trails off, tilting her head. âThat is weird,â she admits thoughtfully. âWhy do you think he didnât try to attack me? We both know he had plenty of opportunities.âÂ
âI donât know,â Stiles answers, mid-chew. âMaybe the Kanima has a thing for pretty brunetteâs,â he chuckles, clearly messing with her.Â
An eerie feeling fills Fallonâs chest at the thought. She knows heâs just kidding, but something about that theory feels off. Thereâs no way the Kanima has a type. Especially since itâs Jackson, and Fallon knows sheâs not Jacksonâs type. Â
âFall,â Stiles calls out for her. âI was kidding.âÂ
âYeahâyeah, I know,â she forces out a breathy laugh. âI knowâŠâ
Suddenly a loud knock on the window causes both teens to jump, Fallon cursing rather loudly at the sudden intrusion. They both glance out the passenger side window and see a wide-eyed Allison staring at them with a worried expression.Â
âOh, my GodâŠâ Stiles lets out a shaky breath before both he and Fallon climb out of the vehicle.Â
âThey know,â Allison reveals.Â
âWhat?â Stiles asks with a slack jaw.Â
âThey know Jacksonâs missing,â Allison elaborates, gesturing towards the van.Â
Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. âNo, they can't. I've been texting his parents since last night. They don't have a clue.âÂ
âMy grandfather told me his parents went to the policeââ Allison says urgently. âThey know.âÂ
âI told you saying âI love youâ in every message was going to set off some alarm bells,â Fallon crosses her arms as she looks at Stiles.Â
Stiles growls frustratedly before turning on the police radio. The sound of a dispatcherâs voice echoes around the forest around them, âAll available units, proceed to Beacon Hills Preserve as instructed. Proceed with caution until Sheriff Stilinski's arrival. Proceed with caution.â
Without a moment's hesitation, Stiles grabs Jacksonâs phone, chucking it across the clearing before rounding the vehicle to hop into the driver's seat. Fallon and Allison squeeze into the passenger seat. âWhere are we going?â Allison rushes out.Â
âSomewhere very far from this.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     âIf Jackson doesn't remember being the Kanima, he's definitely not gonna remember stealing Danny's tablet,â Scott says to his friends and girlfriend as they all stand outside next to the van. Stiles had driven them to a more secluded part of the woods, much further away from their previous location to avoid being caught. Scott was slightly annoyed by having to run further out of the way after talking to Danny, but he got over it.Â
Stiles furrows his eyebrows, âWhy would he steal the thing if he doesnât even know whatâs on it?âÂ
âWhat if he didnât steal it?â Fallon proposes. âMaybe someone else did.âÂ
âThen somebody else knows what he is,â Stiles replies, a brief flash of fear overcoming his face. If someone else knows about the supernatural that could mean a potential ally for them or a potential threat. And truthfully, neither of those options sound very good at the moment.Â
âUh, which could mean someone is protecting him,â Scott brings up.Â
Allison nods along, âLike the Bestiary says, âThe Kanima seeks a friend,â right?âÂ
âAre we sure thatâs really what it said?â Fallon questions unsurely, crossing her arms over her chest.Â
âWell, unless you can read Archaic Latin, Ms. Morellâs translation is all weâve got,â Allison shrugs.Â
âI studied Greek over Arhchaic Latin,â Fallon huffs. âWho wouldâve thought that choice would come back to bite me in the ass.â She glances back at the van, listening as Jacksonâs heartbeat increases the more the moon rises. âItâs just⊠a creature like that âseeking a friendâ doesnât seem plausible to me. Something that viscous needs control.âÂ
âSo what are you saying?â Scott tilts his head.Â
âI donât knowâŠâ the brunette mumbles. âSomething just feels off,â she admits. âWeâre missing a very important piece of information and we have no idea what it is.âÂ
âOkay, hold onâ so, somebody watches Jackson make a video of himself turning into the Kanima, and then just erases part of it so he wouldn't know? I mean, who would do that?â Stiles asks.Â
âThatâs what Iâm saying,â Fallon glances at her best friend. âThatâs not exactly âfriendâ behavior. It sounds like someone who wants to control him. A friend would show him what he is.âÂ
âThere's something else,â Scott says as he looks to Stiles. âYou said the only thing you found online about the Kanima is that it goes after murderers. What if that's actually true?â
Freckles shakes his head, âNo, it can't be. It tried to kill all of us, remember? I don't know about you three, but I haven't murdered anybody lately.â
âBut, I... I don't think that it was actually trying to kill us,â Scott shakes his head. âRemember when we were at Isaac's the first time, it just went right by us, didn't it?â He says to Allison.Â
She nods, âYouâre rightâ it just ran off.âÂ
âAnd it didnât kill you in the mechanics garage,â Scott points at Stiles as they continue trying to solve what is going on.Â
âWell, yeah, but it tried to kill me, Fallon, and Derek in the pool,â Stiles argues, still convinced that the Kanima is going after people at random.Â
âDid itâŠ?âÂ
Stiles splutters, âIâI mean, maybe not Fallon. But he definitely wouldâve killed Derek and I. It was waiting for us to come out.â
Scott sends them a look that he just discovered something revolutionary, âWhat if it was trying to keep you in?âÂ
Stiles groans, both him and Fallon being enveloped in full body chills. âWhy do I feel so violated all of a sudden?âÂ
âBecause thereâs something else going on,â Fallon insists. âAnd we have no idea what it is.âÂ
Scott sighs in agreement, âWe don't know anything about what's going on with Jackson, or why someone's protecting himâŠâ
âKnow thy enemy,â Allison mumbles, making the trio look at her oddly. She shrugs realizing she said it out loud, âJust something my grandfather said.âÂ
Stiles throws his hands up, âAll right, I got itâ kill Jackson!â He exclaims. âProblem solved.âÂ
Fallon narrows her eyes at him, âYou do realize weâre in this mess because Iâve been trying to keep Derek from killing him right?â She scoffs exasperatedly, âIf I wouldâve known our endgame was just to off him, then I wouldâve let Derek do it when he wanted to.âÂ
âWeâre not offing anyone,â Scott says pointedly before looking at Stiles. âHe risked his life for us against Peter. You remember that?âÂ
âYes, but what did we just find out? He got the bite from Derek. It's funny how he just got exactly what he wanted by supposedly risking his life for us. It's funny.â Stiles seethes with more venom in his voice than the Kanima could ever posses in its entire body.Â
âBut heâs still a person, Sti.â Fallon says. âHeâs still worth saving despite him being a jackass.âÂ
âItâs always something with him though.âÂ
âHe doesnât know what heâs doing,â Scott tries to defend the blonde.Â
âSo what?â Stiles scoffs, not caring.Â
âSo, I didnât either,â Scott brings up, his voice filling with emotion. âYou remember when I almost killed you, and Fallon, and Jackson?â He reminds him. âI had someone to stop me. He had nobody.âÂ
Stiles shrugs, âThatâs his own fault.âÂ
âThat doesnât matter,â Fallon cuts in. âIf we have the opportunity to save him, we need to try. We might not love him, or even like him by any stretch of the means, but if he needs someone, it might as well be us. Because I donât know about you, but I donât want to have another random person's blood on my hands because we failed to help him.â
âThe one time I need you to be morally gray and you choose to be righteous,â Stiles grumbles, fake annoyance laced in his voice. âFine⊠save him it is.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Fallon stands outside the prison van, arms crossed, as she watches the back of the surrounding area. Scott and Allison are cuddled up in the front, talking lowly in a way that makes the brunette want to profusely vomit. Stiles left to go check on Lydia, leaving Fallon with the overly touchy couple. Her eyes flicker with unease. This plan, kidnapping Jackson and holding him until they could figure out what to do, still feels like a temporary fix. Derekâs voice echoes in her mind. Heâd made it clear he wasnât willing to wait much longer.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket, breaking her from her thoughts. Pulling it out, she sees Derekâs name and a terse message: âMeet me. Now.â Fallon glances at the van, her mind already made up. With a deep breath, she slips away from the van and heads into the woods, her feet moving quickly, driven by a mixture of anxiety and determination.
She doesnât make it far before Derekâs figure emerges from the shadows, his face set in a serious expression. He steps forward, gripping her arm gently but firmly as he pulls her behind a tree, out of sight.
Fallon lets out a startled yelp, then her shoulders relax as she meets his eyes. âGod, Derek,â she mutters. âIâm starting to think you like scaring the crap out of me.â
His hand lingers on her arm before he lets go, his expression softening for a brief moment. âHad to make sure you werenât followed,â he says, his voice low. âDid anyone see you?â
âNo,â she says, glancing back in the direction of the van. âScott and Allison are still with Jackson. Theyâre watching him. Stiles went to check on Lydia.âÂ
Derekâs gaze sharpens. âAnd? Have you come up with something yet? A real plan, Fallon. Because waiting around is only putting more people at risk.â
Fallonâs lips press together, her posture straightening. âIâm working on it, alright?â she says, her voice edged with frustration. âLook, I donât like this any more than you do, but killing him isnât the answer.â
Derekâs jaw tightens. âWe donât have the luxury of keeping him alive if we canât control him. Heâs a threat.â
âThatâs why Iâm trying to find a way to neutralize him withoutâŠwithout doing something we canât take back,â she argues, her voice softer but firm. She can see Derekâs patience wearing thin, and she steps closer, meeting his gaze intently. âJustâŠgive me a little more time, Derek. Weâre not giving up on him yet.â
His eyes bore into hers, intense and unwavering. Thereâs a long silence before he exhales, shoulders relaxing just slightly. âFine. But if he hurts anyone elseââ
They stand in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation hanging heavily between them. Finally, Derekâs lips quirk in a faint smirk. âDidnât expect you to be the kidnapping type.â
Fallon raises an eyebrow, a hint of humor breaking through her serious expression. âYou kind of forced my hand. Had to keep you from killing him somehow.â
Derek huffs a low, dry laugh. âGuess I should be grateful?â
âYeah, maybe you should,â she replies, crossing her arms and smirking back at him. âI mean, where would you be without me? In jail? Probably still out here, brooding alone in the woods.â
Derek rolls his eyes, though thereâs a glint of amusement in them. âI donât brood.â
âOh, you definitely brood,â Fallon teases, taking a step closer, her voice lightening. âYou and brooding? Kind of a package deal.â
For a moment, the serious edge between them fades, replaced by something lighter, almost playful. Derek shakes his head, a reluctant smirk pulling at his mouth. âIf anyoneâs forcing my hand, itâs you. Showing up, talking me out of thingsâŠâ
âWhat can I say? Iâm persuasive,â Fallon replies, shrugging. She leans back against a tree, crossing her arms, a playful glint in her eye as she looks at Derek. âAdmit it. Youâd be lost without me.â
He snorts, casting a sideways glance. âI donât know if âlostâ is the right word.â
âOh, come on,â she replies, nudging him with her shoulder. âWho else keeps you from making impulsive, regrettable decisions?â
Derek raises an eyebrow, tilting his head in amusement. âI thought thatâs what you were for.â
She rolls her eyes, but thereâs a smile playing at her lips. âExactly. See? You need me.â
He shifts slightly, and for a moment, thereâs a spark of something more in his expression, though he masks it quickly. Fallon catches it, though, and her heart skips a beat as she meets his gaze, holding it a little longer than necessary.
Derekâs voice softens, almost reluctant. âYou do have a way of⊠getting under my skin.â
Fallonâs eyes widen slightly, taken off guard by his admission. She tilts her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. âGood. Someone has to keep you grounded.â
Derek shakes his head, but he canât hide the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. âYou think pretty highly of yourself.â
âOnly because someone around here has to,â she retorts, giving him a cheeky grin. âYouâre a tough guy to keep up with.â
He huffs, his gaze flickering over her face. âYou donât exactly make it easy, either.â
They stand there, the playful tension between them building as they hold each otherâs gaze. Fallon feels a strange warmth spread through her, and she catches herself wondering what it would be like to just let go of all the walls she keeps up around him. But she quickly shakes off the thought, breaking eye contact as she clears her throat.
She shrugs, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. âI mean, I canât be easy if I have to deal with you. If Iâm not a bit of a hardass, how else can I talk sense into you?â
Thereâs a momentary pause, and Derekâs gaze softens, almost as if heâs considering something. âMaybe youâre right,â he says quietly, and for the briefest moment, his guard seems to slip, letting her see a side of him that he rarely shows.
Fallonâs smile fades slightly as she realizes heâs serious, and she finds herself caught in the warmth of his gaze, feeling her heart quicken in response. But then he looks away, and the moment is gone, replaced by the familiar distance he so often puts up.
âYouâre impossible, Hale,â she mutters, shaking her head.
âYouâre the one who came running into the woods just because I texted,â he counters, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Fallon narrows her eyes, refusing to let him have the last word. âOnly because you sounded like you were about to do something reckless. I have a reputation to protect.â
âIs that what you call it?â he asks, his voice teasing, though thereâs a softness in his eyes that belies the sarcasm.
âAbsolutely,â she says, crossing her arms. âThe famous Fallon Donovan, keeper of reason and savior of impulsive werewolves.â
Derek laughs, the sound low and unexpected, and Fallonâs smile widens, feeling a sense of victory at getting him to laugh. Itâs a rare sound, and she canât help but enjoy it, especially knowing she was the one to bring it out.
They fall into a comfortable silence, and Fallon realizes sheâs still standing close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. Thereâs a strange energy between them, something thatâs been building for a while but always left unspoken. She clears her throat, forcing herself to look away.
âSo, are we done here, or are you going to tell me I need to come up with a hundred more plans to keep you from going off the rails?â
Derek shakes his head, his expression softening as he watches her. âJust⊠keep doing what youâre doing.â
She raises an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the sincerity in his tone. âThatâs almost a compliment.â
âDonât push it,â he replies, though the smirk on his face says otherwise.
For a brief moment, Fallon wonders if she should say something, bring up the tension between them. But the timing feels wrongâtoo much going on, too many threats to face. So she keeps her mouth shut, letting the silence settle between them as they stand there, side by side, both knowing thereâs something unspoken lingering between them.
Eventually, Derek clears his throat, stepping back as if heâs remembered himself. âGo on. Get back to them before they manage to mess things up even more.â
Fallon rolls her eyes but doesnât argue. She starts to turn away, but something makes her pause, glancing back at him. âYou know⊠youâre not as scary as you think you are, Derek.â
He raises an eyebrow, slightly taken aback. âYou think so?â
âYeah,â she says, giving him a small smile. âSometimes youâre actually⊠kind of decent.â
He scoffs, though she catches a flicker of something vulnerable in his expression. âDonât get used to it.â
With a final smile, Fallon turns and heads back toward the van, her heart still racing from the conversation. As she disappears into the trees, Derek watches her go, his expression softening once sheâs out of sight. He lets out a quiet breath, glancing down at the spot where theyâd stood together, a faint smile tugging at his lips before he turns and disappears back into the shadows of the woods.
When Fallon arrives back at the van, her eyes widen in shock and her jaw falls to the floor. The doors that were separating Jackson from the outside world have been ripped off their hinges, the paint completely scraped off the metal. And the blonde himself is nowhere to be found. Her heart pounded loudly. Heâs out.Â
Stiles, Allison, and Scott are all standing outside, panic written on all of their faces. Fallon storms over to them, âWhat the hell is going on?âÂ
âHe escaped,â Scott tells her.Â
âYeah, no shit, I can see that,â Fallon runs a hand through her hair with a humorless laugh. âHe's literally a huge scaly creature. How did neither of you hear him trying to get out?â She narrows her eyes at Allison and Scott.Â
âWell, Iââ Scott stutters, briefly glancing at Allison. âIâ whereâ where were you then?â He asks her. âYou were the one supposed to be standing outside.âÂ
âI had a call to make,â she lies. She doesnât know why the falsified information falls from her lips, but it does. Itâs not like they donât know she hangs out with Derek, but she doesnât want them to start getting suspicious of how much time sheâs been spending with him recently. âBut donât try to flip this on me. You guys were the ones inside the van.âÂ
âScott,â Allisonâs lip quivers, âI have to tell my father,â she says worriedly. âHeâs going to kill someone.âÂ
Scott huffs, realizing theyâre all in over their heads. âOkay,â he nods. âTell him. Tell him everything.âÂ
âScott,â Stiles gets his attention, a defeated expression on his face. âI gotta tell mine too.âÂ
âThis is all my fault,â the teen wolf groans frustratedly.
Allison places her hand on his shoulder comfortingly, âItâs not. But, we have to tell them. Weâre just a bunch of teenagers. We canât handle this.âÂ
Thereâs a brief pause, âYouâre rightâŠâ
Allison looks over to Stiles, âHow are you gonna make your dad believe all this?âÂ
âI donât know,â he answers with a sigh.Â
Scott looks up, his eyes flashing their unique yellow, âHeâll believe me.âÂ
Fallon smiles softly, moving to stand next to him. She flashes her purple eyes as well. âUs. Heâll believe us.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     The trio walks into the Sheriffâs station in search of Noah. Fallon can see Stilesâ hands visibly shaking at the thought of exposing his father to the supernatural world. She doesnât blame him. Putting his father in danger isnât high on anyoneâs priority list, but they need his help. And things might start making more sense for Noah once he gets the full picture.Â
They get buzzed in by one of his deputies and thereâs a certain wave of tension that fills the station. Itâs eerily quiet until they opened the door to the sheriffâs office. Noah stands there, his arms crossed over his chest with a disappointed expression. Sitting next to him on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders is Jackson Whittemore. A smug smirk is plastered on his face as he waves tauntingly at the trio.Â
Thereâs a cocky aura that surrounds him as heâs viewed as the victim by not only the Sheriff but by his own father. He has all the power in this situation and he knows it. Fallon can practically see his ego growing by the second. Soon enough his head is going to be too heavy for his neck to hold up. But she would be cocky too if she had the entire Beacon County Police department on her side.Â
âScott, Fallon, Stiles⊠Perfect timing,â Noah moves towards them, a stern conversation with his son brewing behind his irises. âHave you met Jacksonâ father, Mr. David Whittemore, Esquire?â
Jackson leans forward in his seat, his nose scrunching up to rub in their misfortune, âThat means lawyer.âÂ
The unfortunate part about someone like Jackson is that one minute heâs the perfect golden boy. Perfect smile, bright blue eyes, amazing at sports, but behind all that beauty is a steel death trap waiting to sink its sharp teeth into its victims. Maybe thatâs why he turned into the Kanima. He took the shape that truly fit his personality.
     Walking into Beacon Hills High school, the last person she was expecting to see walking through the hallways was Issac Lahey. After being a suspect in his dadâs murder case, she didnât think the police would let him go so soon, especially since they havenât âcaughtâ who did it. Not that they ever would. Considering itâs not a who but a what.
âIssac?â Fallon calls out to the curly haired boy making him turn around with his newly developed confident smile. He slowly saunters up to her, his smile morphing into a smirk. He looks her up and down, making the girl feel a bit flustered. Sheâs not used to this behavior from Issac. He used to be this shy kid that had a hard time asking her to formal, now heâs something⊠entirely different.Â
âHey,â he drawls out, stopping in front of her.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â Fallon asks, genuinely curious. âI mean, not that itâs an unwelcome thing, I just didnât think youâd want to be out and about with the police looking for you and stuff.â She rambles.Â
He shakes his head before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to continue their walk, âLetâs just say Iâm no longer a person of interest.âÂ
âDid you convince Jackson to retract his statement?â She asks, baffled. Issac shrugs nonchalantly making her scoff, âHow did you manage to do that?âÂ
âHe owed me a favor,â Issac answers with a smirk. âThatâs all.âÂ
âAnd he actually followed through with it?â Fallon asks in disbelief. âWhat did you do? Beat him up?âÂ
Issac simply sits in silence and Fallon takes that as her answer, âYou didnât!â She slaps his chest. Truthfully, she missed talking to Issac. They havenât had much one on one time together since the dance, so this is a nice change of pace.Â
âI didnât beat him up technically,â he tries to justify. âIt was more like the looming threat of being harassed by Erica and I that got him to do it.âÂ
Fallon sighs, âI guess thatâs not as bad,â she grins softly, leaning into his side. âBut itâs really nice having you back. I missed you.âÂ
âDonât get all sentimental,â he playfully nudges her. âYou act like we didnât just see each other the other day.â
âYeah, but it wasnât just us talking,â she points out. âIt was just me kicking your ass before Derek chucked you across the train station.â The smirk on her face makes Issac roll his eyes.Â
âOkay, you did not kick my ass,â the blonde denies. âI just wasnât ready.âÂ
âEver?â She quips back wittily.Â
âWhy donât you just shut up and let me walk you to class?â The boy flicks the side of her head making Fallon giggle.Â
âWhy donât you make me?â She flicks his chest back.Â
âI would,â he stares at her, blue eyes softening slightly. âBelieve me, I would never throw away such a⊠tempting offer, but Derek would have my head on a stick.âÂ
âWhat?â Fallon furrows her eyebrows, âWhy?âÂ
Issac shoots her a deadpan look, but once he realizes sheâs serious he simply chuckles breathily. For as smart as she is, sheâs the most clueless person heâs ever seen. âNothing. No reason,â he shakes his head with a knowing grin before stopping directly in front of Coachâs class. âBut I believe this is your stop.âÂ
Fallon pouts playfully, âOr we could ditch and go get ice cream,â she proposes.
âItâs nine in the morning,â Issac chuckles. âPlus, youâre too much of a bookworm to actually follow through with that.âÂ
She frowns but nods, âYouâre right,â a small sigh leaves her mouth. The brunette reaches forward to hug him, âAll right, well Iâll see you in chemistry. Try not to get arrested for murder while Iâm gone,â she teases playfully.Â
âI wonât,â he tells her as heâs walking away. âAt least not today.âÂ
Fallon watches fondly as he retreats down the hallway. She smiles to herself before finishing her journey into Coachâs class. She goes to take one of the empty seats in the front row but is suddenly yanked backwards. She lets out a little yelp until her butt hits the seat of a chair near the back of the classroom. She glares at Stiles who was the one who dragged her all the way to the back.Â
âDid you really just let Issac walk you to class?â He asks her with narrowed eyes.Â
âYeahâŠâ she trails off with furrowed brows.Â
âDid you know he was gonna be here today?â Scott questions her.Â
âNo,â she replies, getting irritated by the accusatory looks in their eyes. She can tell they think Derek told her something and now sheâs keeping it from them. âI ran into him this morning and he walked me to class. Thatâs all.âÂ
âWhy would he walk you to class if it wasnât for something evil?â Stiles says overdramatically, making Fallon roll her eyes.Â
âMaybe because Issac isnât evil,â she mocks him. âJust because you guys have this weird feud going on with Derek and his pack, doesnât mean I have to participate.âÂ
Stiles scoffs, âItâs not a feud. Itâs us preventing them from recruiting more people into their weird little misfit wolf pack. And also stopping him from trying to kill anyone that tells him âno.ââ He remarks sarcastically.Â
âHey, Testicle left, right, and their ball fondlerââ Jacksonâs voice calls out from behind them making the trio roll their eyes at his vulgarity. âWhat the hell is a Kanima?â
The argument the three of them were having suddenly stops as they whip their heads around to stare at Jackson in shock. Before they even have the chance to pick their jaws up off the floor, Coach starts the class. âAll right, listen up! A quick warning before we begin our reviewâ some of you, like McCall, might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficultâ I'm not even too sure I could pass it!â The class stares at him blankly, but all Fallon, Scott, and Stiles are worried about is how Jackson couldâve possibly figured out what the new threat in Beacon Hills is. âOkay, I need a volunteer at the board to answer the first question. Who's got it, huh?â He holds the marker out towards his volunteer. âCome on, let's go, buddy.â
âParalyzed from the neck down,â Jackson seethes as if it were their fault he got kidnapped by Derek. âDo you have any idea what that feels like?âÂ
âIâm familiar with the sensationâŠâ Stiles rolls his eyes, annoyed that Jackson thinks heâs the only one to go through it.Â
âWaitâ why would Derek test you?â Scott furrows his eyebrows. âWhy would he think that it's you?â
âCause heâs the only other new person to get bit who doesnât know what he is,â Fallon answers like itâs obvious. âIâm a wolf, Issac, Erica, and Boyd are wolves. Him and Lydia are the only two we donât know about.âÂ
âWait, does that mean they think itâs Lydia?â Stiles asks worriedly.Â
âI donât know!â Jackson narrows his eyes. âAll I heard was her name and something about chemistry.âÂ
âJackson!âÂ
Coachâs booming voice catches all their attention. They whip their heads around, eyes blown wide. âDo you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?â He crosses his arms tauntingly, waiting to see what crappy excuse he comes up with.
Jackson folds his hands together, âUmmâŠâ he wracks his brain for something to say. âJust an undying admiration for myâ my coach.â
âThatâs really kind of you,â Coach nods with a fake smile before it falls and he looks at the blonde with a hard glare. âNow shut up!â he yells. âShut it!â He glances around the room challengingly, âAnybody else?â
When Coach finally looks away, Scott glances at his two friends, âHow do we know itâs not her?âÂ
âBecause I looked into the eyes of that thing, okay? And what I saw was pure evil. And, when I look into Lydia's eyes, I only see fifty percent evil.â Scott and Fallon give him a pointed look. âAll right, maybe sixty. You know, but no more than forty on a good day!â
âStiles, that's not exactly a convincing argument,â Fallon huffs.Â
âIâm aware of that,â Stiles grumbles. âBut I swear itâs not her. It canât be, all right? Lydiaâs fine.âÂ
âIâm not saying I think sheâs a homicidal lizard person, but thereâs definitely something going on,â Fallon whispers. âSheâs been acting a bit off since the dance, and not in a regular trauma kind of way.âÂ
Almost as if on cue, their eyes travel up to the board and stare in horror as Lydia writes things rapidly that are definitely not economics related. Fallon narrows her eyes at the writings. It looks like itâs another language, but not one sheâs ever seen. Thatâs when she pulls out her phone, taking a photo of the board as Coach gets the strawberry blondeâs attention. Lydia spins around with a gasp, tears forming at her waterline. Fallonâs heart clenches. Thereâs something wrong that she hasnât told anyone about.Â
âOkay, then. Anybody else want to try answering? This time in English?â
âWhat is that, Greek?â Scott asks his friend.Â
âNo,â Fallon shakes her head, showing them her phone. âI know Greek. Iâm actually pretty sure it is English,â she says, flipping the photo around to show the words âsomeone please help meâ written across the board in all capital letters.Â
Once the bell rings, the trio is quick to rush out of the room to get to the chemistry classroom before Issac and Erica do. Fallon knows Issacâs last class is further from Harris than they are, so they should have thirty extra seconds to come up with a game plan to somehow protect Lydia.
âDerekâs not gonna kill her without proof,â Scott says as they round the corner to approach the chemistry room door.
âAll right, so he tests her like he did with Jackson, right? But when and where?â Stiles asks as Fallon slaps her hand across both their chests. They stop inside the room, noticing Erica and Issac rushing in as well with determined looks on their faces.Â
ââŠI think here and now.â The brunette girl answers.Â
The three of them rush towards Lydia, unfortunately Scott and Stiles get to her first, taking up the two seats next to her. They shoot Fallon a sympathetic glance, knowing she has to find her own seat now. The girl waves them off, knowing Lydiaâs life is more important. To her dismay, the only open seat left is the one next to Issac. Normally, she would be thrilled to sit next to the curly haired boy, but with how theyâre kind of working for opposing sides, it might make things a bit awkward.Â
Harris walks around the classroom and up to his desk, âEinstein once said, "Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity... And I'm not sure about the universe. I myself have encountered infinite stupidity,â he pats Stilesâ back in passing, making Fallon roll her eyes. âSo, to combat the plague of ignorance in my class, you're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments! Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one. Or, in Stilinski's case, less than one.â
âWell, would you look at that?â Issac smirks as he turns towards Fallon. âTurns out the universe seems to think weâre the dream team.âÂ
âIâm not helping you test Lydia.â Fallon deadpans, making Issac smirk.Â
âReally?â he scoots his stool closer to her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He leans forward to whisper, âEven if Derek is watching?âÂ
Her eyes travel over to the window and chills run down her back as she makes eye contact with Derek whoâs standing near the tree line. His icy eyes bore into hers even from that far away. She clears her throat, âIâm still not gonna help you.âÂ
A small hum escapes his lips as he wraps his arm around her shoulder, âWeâll see.âÂ
âErica, you take the first station. You'll start withââ Every single guy in the class, minus Scott, Stiles, and Issac, raise their hands, desperate to be partnered with the beautiful girl. Fallon doesnât blame them. Sheâd want to be partnered with her too if her personality hadnât gotten vain along with the rest of her. âI didnât ask for volunteers,â Harris sneers disgustedly. âPut your hormonal little hands down.â He nods towards the boy in front of her, âStart with Mr. McCall. All right, next two!â
Issac and Fallon were quick to start on the experiment, but there was still a crackling tension between the two of them. Fallon shifts uncomfortably as Issac continues to stare at her, his arm that was wrapped around her back now sliding down to her thigh.Â
âYou're really beautiful when youâre all focused like that,â he compliments, but it sounds almost like a taunt.Â
Fallon tenses under his touch, but doesnât move his hand away. She drops another one of the ingredients into the beaker carefully. âWhat are you doing?â She asks through clenched teeth.Â
âAdmiring you,â he answers simply. âIt really is a shame youâre so close with Scott. Youâd be a real asset to us.â His cocky smirk returns, âWeâd be able to spend more time together too.âÂ
âI know what youâre doing,â she whispers. âAnd Iâm not that easily manipulated. Plus, Iâm not interested.â She turns her attention back to the experiment.Â
Issac laughs breathily, âNo, of course not. Why would you be? Iâm not exactly what youâre into.â His eyes become slightly hooded as he traces shapes on her thigh, âYour type is older, brooding Alphas with control issues.âÂ
Fallonâs eyes widen and her face flushes red. She whips her head towards Issac, an incredulous expression on her face. Her jaw hits the floor and she tries to deny the claim but Mr. Harris cuts her off. âSwitch!âÂ
Fallon finishes what she was doing, but anger simmers in her chest as she looks at who her next partner is. Ericaâs grin is much more venomous than Issacâs as she slides into the seat next to Fallon. The brunette decides to not make contact with the blonde. They havenât exactly had civil conversations the last few times theyâve interacted. She doesnât even bother waiting for her to help, continuing to add the ingredients written neatly on the board. However, Erica doesnât take too kindly to being ignored. After receiving all this new attention recently, being disregarded isnât what sheâs used to.Â
âWhatâs wrong, Fallon?â The blonde bats her eyelashes at the girl, breaking the silence between them. âI thought you and I were supposed to be best friends? Donât tell me all this hostility is about that little kiss with Derek.âÂ
âIs that what that was?â Fallon remarks sarcastically, using the pipette to drop liquid into the flask. âCause from where I was standing it looked a lot more like desperation.â She shoots Erica a fake smile, âAnd last I checked he took me out after letting me throw you around for three hours like a ragdoll.âÂ
The muscle in Ericaâs jaw ticks as she clutches the edge of the desk. Fallon watches as her claws emerge slightly. âWhat are you gonna do, Erica? Hurt me?â She taunts, flashing her purple pupils in her direction. âBy all means, Iâd love to kick your ass again.âÂ
âYou do realize heâs doing this to protect you right?â She snaps. âAnd you repay him by letting that thing live.â
âItâs not her,â Fallon glares.Â
âAnd switch!â Harris calls out one last time.Â
As Erica gets up to walk away, Fallon calls out to her. âAnd Erica, I will admit, you are very pretty.â She compliments, making the girl smirk. âBut that doesnât make you a good person. Remember, our insides will reflect who we are on the outside eventually.âÂ
Her face falls but she simply moves onto her next station. Suddenly, Stilesâ body slides into the seat next to Fallon. He looks at her with a concerned gaze, âYou okay? That looked⊠intense.âÂ
âIâm fine,â Fallon mutters, trying to finish catalyzing the reaction. âJust Erica being Erica.â Her eyes widen as she looks up and sees Issac sitting directly next to Lydia, âBut I think we have bigger problems than that.âÂ
âCrap,â Stiles tries to scramble out of his seat and go after Issac, but Harris stops him by slapping his chest with a rather long stick.Â
âIf you're trying to test my patience, Mr. Stilinski, I guarantee it will be a failing grade.âÂ
Their teacher walks away and Stiles looks at Fallon begging, âCanât you convince him not to do this? Issac trusts you.â
âThat doesnât matter,â Fallon shakes her head. âI already tried to get through to him. The only person heâs listening to right now is Derek.âÂ
âCanât you convince Derek?â He asks exasperatedly.Â
âI donât think heâs listening to anyone but himself right now either,â Fallon says, pointing out the window to show Stiles that Derek is already there, and very convinced of his own theory.Â
âSheâs not a monster. Sheâs not the one killing people!â
âStiles, I know that,â Fallon huffs breathily, realizing that sheâs been the only person out of all her groups to do this experiment. âIâm not the one you need to convince.âÂ
âTime!â Mr. Harris stops them all, drawing their attention to the front. âIf you've catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal.â Fallon happily pulls out the crystal she created over the process, trying not to laugh as she glances up a few rows to see that Scott had failed miserably. âNow, for the part of that last experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy... You can eat it..â
Fallon barely has time to be proud of the work she has done as Lydia picks up her own crystal and puts it near her mouth. A clear liquid drips off of it, no doubt some Kanima venom that Issac sneakily coated it with. She, Stiles, Scott, and Allison all share concerned looks. Fallonâs breath catches in her throat as the liquid almost hits Lydiaâs tongue.Â
âLydia!â Scott yells.Â
Everyone in the class turns their attention towards him. Fallon fights the urge to cringe from how embarrassing the moment is. Lydia narrows her eyes at him, waiting expectantly for him to explain why he needed her attention so badly. âWhat?âÂ
Scott finally notices the unwanted attention on him. He swallows thickly before clearing his throat and sitting down. ââŠNothing,â he says awkwardly.
They all watch nervously as Lydia drops the crystal in her mouth. Fallon and Stiles clutch hands, the latter practically cutting off Fallonâs circulation. The brunette anxiously bites the inside of her cheek as she waits for something bad to happen to Lydia, but nothing does. Sheâs fine. She wipes her hands like there wasnât just Kanima venom on the candy crystal. And by that display, it confirms to Derek and his pack that it is Lydia. Fallon glances back out the window, watching as Derek makes his decision then and there.Â
Heâs gonna kill her.
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Scott ushers Stiles, Fallon, and Allison into a secluded classroom, the four of them still reeling from the events that went down in chemistry. They tested Lydia, and the poison did absolutely nothing to her. She didnât even flinch. No part of her body was paralyzed.Â
âDerekâs waiting outside for Lydia,â Scott reveals to them.
âWaiting to kill her?â Allison looks at him nervously.
Scott nods his head, âIf he thinks she's the Kanima, then yesâ especially after what happened at the pool.â
Stiles runs a hand through his buzzed hair, âItâs not her,â he insists.
Scott sighs, sending his best friend a sympathetic look, âStiles, she didn't pass the test, man. Nothing happened.âÂ
Stiles huffs irritatedly, âNo, it can't be her.â
âIt doesn't matter, because Derek thinks it's her,â Allison crosses her arms, a frown etching its way onto her face. âSo, either we can convince him that he's wrong, or we've got to figure out a way to protect her.â
âHe wouldnât hurt Lydia at school,â Fallon chimes in. âI donât think he would hurt her at all if we could just show him sheâs not the Kanima. There has to be a reasonable explanation for why the venom didnât work on her. If we can figure it out, heâll listen. Heâs not some monstrous guy.âÂ
âYou really think we can prove Lydiaâs not the Kanima by three oâclock,â Stiles narrows his eyes skeptically.Â
âThere could be something in the Bestiary,â Allison suggests.
Stiles scoffs, âOh, you mean the nine-hundred-page book written in archaic Latin that none of us can read? Good luck with that.â He tells her sarcastically.
âLook, I can read regular Latin, but I havenât exactly spent much time looking at Archaic Latin,â Fallon crosses her arms with a frown. âI tried.âÂ
Allisonâs eyes light up, âActually, I think I know someone who might be able to translate itâŠâ
âUh, Fallon and I can talk to Derek, maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove that it's not her?â Scott suggests, looking at Fallon to make sure sheâs okay with it. She nods her head in agreement, knowing theyâll get further if she helps him. âBut, if anything happens, you guys let me or Fall handle it, okay?âÂ
âWhat does that mean?â Allison furrows her eyebrows, slightly offended.
âIt means you guys canât heal like we do,â Scott answers simply. âI just donât want you to get hurt.â
Out of nowhere, Allison digs through her backpack and pulls out one of her many crossbows. It clicks, indicating sheâs ready to shoot at any coming threat. Fallonâs eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. How does she have any room for her school stuff when sheâs hiding lethal weapons?Â
âI can protect myself.â Allison reassures. Scott sighs, looking away from his girlfriend. He looks like he wants to say something, but is refraining from it. The girl tilts her head, âWhat? Did something else happen?âÂ
âI just don't want you getting hurt. Seriously, if anything goes wrong, you call me, okay? I-I don't care if your dad finds out. Call, text, scream, yell, whatever. I'll hear you and I'll find you as fast as I can. We have until three.âÂ
Allison nods in agreement. Scott finally turns around, him and Fallon heading towards the door to try and find Derek. Both of them hear this loud whirring, causing them to turn around. Fallon gasps loudly, her hand instinctively shooting up to catch an arrow that was heading straight for her face. Stiles stares at her in shock, his eyes wide. He immediately puts the crossbow on the ground.Â
âI am so sorry,â he rushes out. âSensitive trigger on that thing.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Scott and Fallon make their way out to the lacrosse field where they previously saw Derek. Scott keeps close to his best friendâs side, not wanting anything bad to happen to her. She and Derek might be on good terms now, but that doesnât mean they always will be.Â
Boyd stands in the distance, his hands shoved nonchalantly in his pockets as the two werewolves approach him. He looks relaxed, not intimidated by them at all. âWe want to talk to Derek,â Scott tells the boy.Â
Boyd shrugs, stepping up to Scott. âTalk to me.âÂ
âBoyd, we donât want to fight,â Fallon sighs, sensing an upcoming argument.Â
âGood,â he nods his head. ââCause Iâm twice the size of both of you.â
âTrue,â Scott concedes, growing slightly nervous as he finally takes in Boydâs full stature. âReally, really true. But do you wanna know what I think?â Boyd smirks with an expectant look. âIâm twice as fast.â Suddenly that smirk falls as Scott speedily tackles him to the ground making Fallon roll her eyes.Â
âWas that really necessary?â She questions.
Out of nowhere, Derek appears only a few inches away from Scottâs side. Fallon blinks just to make sure her eyes arenât playing tricks on her. He really is good at this whole sneaking up on people thing. âShe failed the test,â the older man says ominously.
âYeah,â Scott scoffs. âWhich doesnât prove anything. Lydiaâs different.âÂ
âI know!â Derek nods. âAt night, she turns into a homicidal walking snake.â
âWeâre not going to let you kill her,â Fallon tells the man. âJust give us a chance to prove to you sheâs innocent. Lydia can be a little scary sometimes, but not scary enough to be the Kanima.âÂ
âYou donât have to convince me of anything,â he tells her. âAnd who said I was going to be the one to kill her?â Scott and Fallon share a concerned look as they realize heâs sending Erica and Issac after the strawberry blonde. âI don't know why you think you have to protect everyone now, Scott... But, even so, Lydia has killed people, and she's gonna do it again. And next time, it's gonna be one of us.â
âWhat if youâre wrong?â Scott challenges him.
âShe was bitten by an Alpha!â Derek yells exasperatedly. âItâs her!â
âDerek, we saw that thing up close,â Fallon tries to reason with him. âItâs not like us.âÂ
âBut it is!â He counters, his tone less aggressive than it was with Scott. âWe're all shapeshifters. Neither of you know what you're dealing withâ it happens rarely, and it happens for a reason.â
âWhat reason?â Scott questions.
Derek sighs, trying to find the best way to word it. âSometimes, the shape you take reflects the person that you are. Even Stiles calls her cold-blooded.â
âOkay, but what if sheâs immune or something?â Fallon suggests, moving closer to the Alpha werewolf. âWhat if she has some sort of enzyme orâor something in her blood that prevents her from being susceptible to the bite? Maybe thatâs why she didnât get paralyzed.âÂ
Derek looks frustrated, but for whatever reason when she talks him down, it makes sense. He canât let Scott or Boyd see that though, âNo ones immune,â he denies. âI've never seen it or heard of it. It's nâ It's never happened!â
âWhat about Jackson?â She brings up, making the man fall into silence. He doesnât have an answer to that. âYou bit him didnât you? So why hasnât he turned?â
âFallonââ
âNothing happened to Jackson,â she cuts him off. âHis body didnât reject the bite or else heâd be dead. Heâs alive, yet hasnât shifted or turned into anything. And you have no idea why, do you?âÂ
Scottâs suddenly very grateful he decided to bring Fallon with him. Derek sighs in defeat, âNo.â
âWell,â Fallon glances at Scott, âwe have a theory. Lydia is immune and somehow passed that onto Jackson. Now if youâd give us a couple of hours, weâd be able to find a way to prove that to you.âÂ
âNo.â
âYou cannot do this!â Scott exclaims, getting tired of Derekâs inability to see when someone else is right.Â
âLook, I canât let her live! You should have known that!â Derek says, beginning to get overwhelmed. All Scott sees is Derek looking for control, but Fallon knows thatâs not it. The poor man has lived his entire life trying to protect the people he cares about, only for them to either leave or die. Heâs just trying to keep Beacon Hills safe. It might not align with the way Scott thinks it should be done, but they both want the same thing. For no more deaths to occur.Â
âI was really hoping one of us would be able to convince youâŠâ Scott glanced up at Derek, not as bothered as he should be. âBut then again⊠we werenât counting on it.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     After the confrontation with Derek, Scott insisted that Fallon head to his house without him to meet with everyone. He wouldnât say it out loud but he trusts her to protect them more than anyone. She could see how serious he was, so she listened. Her feet carry her out of the school as she sends Stiles a quick message to tell him sheâll be there soon.Â
The girl yelps as she runs into an unknown person. Her phone flies to the floor with a small thud. She looks up, getting ready to profusely apologize for not watching where she was going, âIâm so sorry!â
Matt shifts awkwardly, readjusting the camera strap on his shoulder. "No, no, itâs my fault. I wasnât paying attention at all. Are you okay?â He rushes out genuinely.
Fallon rubs her shoulder, quickly glancing around to make sure no one saw the collision. She locks eyes with Matt and feels a twinge of embarrassment. âYeah, Iâm fine. Again, Iâm so sorry about that. I genuinely wasnât⊠watching where I was going.â
Matt shakes his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. âNo, no, itâs on me too. I was distracted. Looking at my camera⊠or, well, pretending to.â
Fallon raises an eyebrow at that, bending down to pick up her phone. She checks for cracksâthankfully, itâs still intact. âPretending?â
Matt lets out a soft chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. âYeah, I guess I wasnât really looking at anything. Just⊠thinking.â His gaze flicks back to her. âYouâre in a hurry, huh?â
âYeah,â Fallon says, her voice coming out a bit rushed. âIâve got to get to Scottâs. Something⊠uh, came up.â
Matt nods, still smiling, though thereâs a faint flicker of something else in his eyes. âOf course. You three are always on the move, arenât you?â
âSomething like that,â Fallon mutters, already feeling the pressure of the clock ticking in her mind. She steps to the side to get moving, but Matt doesnât seem as off-putting as usual. Actually, he seems... almost relaxed. It throws her off.
âI feel terrible,â she adds quickly. âI didnât mean to run you over.â
Matt waves it off. âHey, if I had to get run over by someone, Iâd prefer it be you.â
Fallon snorts despite herself, unable to help the small grin that breaks through. âReally? Thatâs the line youâre going with?â
Matt shrugs, clearly pleased that he got a laugh out of her. âIt worked, didnât it?â
She shakes her head, the smile lingering even as her brain reminds her to keep moving. She has to admit, her cheeks did slightly heat up from his words. The brunette isnât used to getting attention from maleâs in this context. âYeah, I guess it did.â
They fall into an easier rhythm for a moment, the tension from the collision gone. Matt adjusts the camera strap on his shoulder once more and looks at her, his expression softening. âI know youâve got somewhere to be, but... itâs good to see you smile, Fallon.â
She freezes for a split second, the weight of his words throwing her off. It's strange hearing him talk like that. Sheâs used to the awkward, slightly creepy Matt who lingers too long, but this version? Itâs different. It feels... genuine. Almost like he's a normal guy.
âWell, Iâve got to run.â Fallon moves past him but canât resist tossing a quick, âTry not to get flattened by anyone else today.âÂ
Matt laughs, mock saluting at her retreating form, âWill do.âÂ
The boy watches after her as she bolts out of the schoolâs doors. He glances back down at his camera, an image of her and Scott with the same glaring flash in both of their eyes. The mystery of why that is happening leaves his mind as he recalls the encounter that just happened. She laughed. I made her laugh. Itâs not much, but itâs progress. He tucks the camera closer to his chest, his eyes following her for a moment longer before he forces himself to look away. There's still that pull, that obsession, but for now, itâs hidden behind his easygoing façade. One step at a time.
Fallon doesnât notice. Sheâs already texting Stiles again, too wrapped up in everything happening to think much of the encounter. For now, Matt's just another guy at school.
But to him? Sheâs everything.
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Fallon finally reaches Scottâs house, she pulls her motorcycle into the driveway, careful not to park in Melissaâs spot. She darts into the house, knocking on the door with the secret code Stiles told her to use when she got there. The boy is quick to swing the door open after unlocking the many locks he used as a precaution.Â
âFinally!â He exclaims. âI was starting to think you were gonna let us fend for ourselves.âÂ
âI got here within ten minutes,â Fallon narrows her eyes at him.Â
âTen minutes too long for someone with werewolf super speed,â he claps back.
Allison emerges from the other room, a look of relief passing over her face. âOh thank God,â she breathes out. âScott said you were on your way, but I wasnât sure.âÂ
âYeah, Iâm here,â she glances around the house. âWhereâs Lydia and Jackson?âÂ
âIn Scottâs room,â Stiles answers. âWe figured it would be better to keep her in a separate room, yâknow with Derek trying to murder her and all.âÂ
âIs the sarcasm really necessary?â Fallon quirks an eyebrow.Â
âIâm stressed, okay? Sarcasm is my go to when Iâm feeling any other emotion besides neutrality! So deal with it.âÂ
âYou might need to be a lot more sarcastic then,â Allison mumbles as she glances out the window. Her eyes are wide with worry, âBecause we have a problem.âÂ
Stiles and Fallon follow her line of vision and see Derek, Issac, Erica, and Boyd all standing menacingly outside of Scottâs house. They all swallow thickly before closing the curtain once more so they canât see inside their fortress.Â
âFallon, when did Scott say he was gonna be here?â Allison looks at the brunette worriedly.Â
âCoach told him he needed to scold Danny âcause his pads were ripped or something. Thatâs why he told me to come without him,â she explains. âHe should be here soon.âÂ
They all stand around nervously, peeking through the windows periodically to see if Derekâs pack plans on making a move. They don't, which only makes them become more on edge. Stiles and Fallon share a concerned look when Allison pulls out her phone and begins to type.
âWhat are you doing?â Stiles asks her.Â
Allison sighs anxiously, âI think⊠I think I have to call my dad.âÂ
Stilesâ eyes widen, âBut if he finds you here, you and Scottââ
âI know,â Allison cuts him off, her lip trembling. âBut what are we supposed to do? They're not here to scare us, okay? They're here to kill Lydia.â
âMaybe if I go out there, I can stall them?â Fallon suggests, wringing her hands nervously. âI can maybe keep them talking to give you guys enough time for an escape plan.âÂ
âThey would know,â Stiles shakes his head. âDerek wouldnât buy it. He knows youâre here to protect Lydia.âÂ
âCanât you go out there and fight them?â Allison asks genuinely. âYou have a different kind of strength, right?âÂ
âDerek has taught me everything I know so far,â Fallon huffs. âI could handle Issac, Erica, and Boyd, but thereâs no way I could take Derek by myself. Not yet anyway.âÂ
âIâve got another idea,â Stiles suggests as he looks at Allison. âWhy donât you just shoot one of âem? Yâknow arrows do good from a distance.âÂ
Allison scoffs, âAre you serious?âÂ
âWe told Scott we could protect ourselves, so let's do it! Or at least give it a shot, right?â Stiles tries his best to be inspirational.
âI can try to handle Derek if you guys think you can take on the other three,â Fallon whispers. âIf you can hold them off, I should be able to do some damage before he completely kicks my ass.âÂ
âLook, they don't think we're gonna fight, so if one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off. So, just shoot one of 'em.â Stiles nods.
âWhich one?â Allison questions unsurely.Â
âAny of them,â Fallon answers. âStrategically, probably Boyd since heâs not as fast as the others.âÂ
Stiles agrees, âYeah, just shoot one of the three betas.âÂ
âYou mean two,â Allison corrects.Â
Fallon furrows her eyebrows, âNo, he means three. Derek has three betaâs.â She peeks out from behind the curtain, her eyes narrowing when she notices a missing head of blonde curly hair. âWhere the hell is Issac?âÂ
âHeâs not there?!â Stiles whisper-yells. His hands suddenly become rather sweaty when he realizes that one of the werewolves is probably already somewhere in the house.Â
A small yelp catches Fallon off guard as Allison is tossed to the floor. Issac roughly shoves her to the ground before turning his attention to Stiles. Fallon wastes no time in grabbing Issac by the collar of his jacket and chucking him into Scottâs wall. The blonde grunts but is quick to bounce back, swiping at Fallonâs face. Luckily sheâs fought Issac enough times to be able to predict his movements. She ducks underneath his hand before tackling him to the ground.Â
âGo find Lydia!â Fallon screams at Allison and Stiles who both scramble to stand up as the brunette continues to decimate Issac.Â
The curly haired boy uses his strength to flip her over, âYou know, I really donât mind seeing you underneath me,â he smirks. Unfortunately for him, his victory is only momentary as Fallon digs her claws into the side of his neck. He screams in pain as she uses her legs to kick him clear across the house. He hits Melissaâs coffee table with a loud thwack making Fallon cringe. Thatâs definitely not fixable.Â
âStiles! Fallon! Itâs here!â Allisonâs voice echoes from the second floor.Â
âGreat,â Fallon mumbles, standing up from the floor as she walks over to Issac who is struggling to stand. Now she not only has to fight Derekâs minions, but now she has to watch out for the blood thirsty lizard who wonât hesitate to kill everyone she cares about.Â
Fallon growls lowly as Isaac tries to tiredly swing at her again. She grabs him by the nape of his neck, putting enough pressure on it to make him wince, but not enough to fully hurt him. Her head shoots to the right when she hears footsteps clambering down the stairs. She doesn't know when he managed to sneak in, but Scott is currently walking down the stairs, dragging Erica by her hair with Allison in tow. The latter having a very satisfied grin on her face.Â
Fallon shakes her head with a small chuckle, âGlad you could join us.âÂ
âSeems like I didnât need to,â Scott points down at Issacâs limp body. âYou guys apparently had it handled.â
They walk over to the door, flinging it open with a loud creak. It was more than satisfying watching the cocky look on Derekâs face fade as Scott and Fallon throw his two betaâs back at him like taking them down took no effort at all.Â
The older man huffs angrily before glancing back up to the porch where Scott, Allison, Fallon, and Stiles stand proudly. Derek and Fallon lock eyes for a moment, the girl trying to keep her head held high, but she does feel slightly guilty for fighting against him. She just doesnât believe whoever the Kanima is has to die. Not if they can help them.Â
âI think I'm finally getting why you keep refusing me, Scott. You're not an Omegaâ you're already an Alpha of your own pack. But, you know you can't beat me.â The smile on Derekâs face is taunting. Not the gentle one Fallon is used to seeing when itâs just them. Itâs almost unsettling how different he looks right now. Itâs not necessarily in a bad way, just different.Â
âI can hold you off until the cops get here,â Scott says angrily.Â
Police sirens wail in the background causing Derekâs face to fall. He looks off into the distance, but his attention is quickly pulled by another noise. Thereâs loud footsteps scurrying above them. That's when Fallon remembers that the Kanima did decide to make an appearance at tonightâs standoff. Her claws shoot out of her fingers, surprising her slightly at how easy it came. Normally she has to try a lot harder when itâs not the full moon. The brunette shakes her head, not bothering to worry about that now. Her eyes travel up to the roof to see the same yellow slitted eyes from the night at the pool.Â
She protectively steps in front of Stiles while Scott does the same for Allison. The creature screeches loudly, baring its rows of razor sharp teeth at the people below before taking off into the night. Fallon can hear Derek fuming behind them. He missed his chance.Â
âGet them out of here,â he tells Boyd, referring to his incapacitated trainees.
None of them get the chance to move or even react when the sound of furious high heels clicking pulls their attention. A small bit of relief floods the teens' systems when they realize that itâs Lydia walking towards them. They were right. She isnât the Kanima.
âWould someone please tell me what the hell is going on?!â The strawberry blonde exclaims.Â
But that means thereâs only one other person it could be.
     It took a while for the effects of the sedative to wear off of Fallon. She managed to make it home with the help of Stiles. Scott called him to pick her up so he could find a way to heal himself. The poor brunette girl was too weak to protest, so when Stiles practically carried her up to her room, she was more than embarrassed. It took a sedative to knock her on her ass. She thought she was stronger than that.Â
So she currently stands in her room, working through her frustrations by beating the crap out of the punching bag she strung up after being turned by Peter. She just canât seem to wrap her head around why Derek continuously chooses to betray her trust. Sheâs made it clear she would never condemn him for his choices. All she wanted from him was to be included, to know what he was thinking. But he has a knack for shutting people out.Â
Her fists slam into the punching bag over and over, the rhythmic thuds filling the dimly lit room. It's late, and exhaustion weighs heavy on her muscles, but she canât stop. Not yet. Not after everything thatâs happened in the last few days. Her arms burn, her knuckles scream in protest, but the physical pain is the only thing keeping her grounded. Itâs a distraction from the anger and betrayal gnawing at her insides. The memory of Boyd sedating her, taking her out of the fight before she could even defend herself, plays on repeat in her mind.
Derek planned it. That much is clear. She doesnât care what his reason wasâ he lied to her. After everything, he told her heâd keep her in the loop, that the next time he turned someone, sheâd know. Instead, he blindsided her. Worse, he rendered her powerless. Sheâs furious, but underneath the rage is something else, something she doesnât want to admit to: hurt. She trusted him, and he trampled that trust.
With one final punch, the bag flies off its hinges, the insides of it spilling all over her floor. She exhales sharply, an annoyed expression taking over her face as she realizes she not only has to clean up this mess, but now she has to buy a new punching bag.Â
The sound of a window creaking open behind her breaks through the haze of her thoughts.
âYouâve got some nerve,â she mutters, her voice low, tinged with exhaustion. She doesnât bother turning around; thereâs only one person who would sneak into her room uninvited, especially after the past few days.
Silence stretches for a beat before Derek steps fully into the room, his presence a weight in the air. Fallon hears the soft scuff of his boots on the floor, the steady rhythm of his breathing. Itâs infuriating how calm he always is, how little he seems to be affected by anything, even now.
âI had to,â Derek says finally, his voice low and measured, though thereâs a hint of something softer beneath it. âIt wasnât an attack against you. I was trying to protect you.â
âProtect me?â Fallon whirls around, her eyes flashing with anger. Sheâs tired, but the adrenaline surging through her veins keeps her on her feet, keeps her from backing down. âYou knocked me out, Derek. You had Boyd drug me so I couldnât fight and then proceeded to beat the crap out of my best friend. How is that protecting me?â
His eyes meet hers, and for a second, thereâs something in his expression that almost looks like regret, but itâs gone as quickly as it appears. He crosses his arms over his chest, his jaw tight. âYou wouldâve gotten involved. Scott and Iââ
âScott and you what?â Fallon snaps, taking a step closer to him, her frustration bubbling to the surface. âYou think I couldnât handle it? You donât think I can fight?â Her voice rises slightly, the hurt slipping into her words despite her best efforts to keep it hidden. Sheâs not supposed to be weak, not supposed to let things like this get to her. But thisâ being sidelined, being treated like sheâs fragileâ it cuts deeper than she wants to admit.
âI didnât want to fight you.â Derekâs voice is quiet, but thereâs an edge of honesty in it that catches her off guard. His gaze softens, just a fraction, and Fallon falters, her anger wavering for a split second.
âThatâs not the point, Derek,â she mutters, her shoulders slumping slightly as the exhaustion finally starts to creep in. âYou lied to me. You told me youâd keep me informed.â
Derek runs a hand through his hair, looking away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. âI didnât think Iâd need to explain turning Boyd. You werenât supposed to be involved. I was trying to keep you safe.â
âSafe from what? I am so tired of you using that as an excuse!â Fallonâs voice cracks, and she hates it. Sheâs not supposed to be this vulnerable, not with him. But the frustration, the betrayal, the hurtâitâs all too much. âYou donât get to decide what Iâm safe from, Derek. Iâm not some fragile little thing you need to protect.â
Derek steps forward, closing the distance between them. His presence is overwhelming, and Fallon can feel the heat radiating off him, the intensity in his eyes making her heart race despite herself. âI know youâre not,â he says quietly. âBut youâre important. And I canât⊠I wonât risk losing you.â
Fallon blinks, caught off guard by the weight of his words. For a moment, they just stand there, staring at each other, the tension between them palpable. Her fists clench and unclench at her sides, and she feels the sudden urge to hit him again, just to get some sort of reaction, to break through whatever wall heâs putting up.
âI can handle myself,â she whispers, her voice softer now but no less fierce. âIâve been doing it for a while.â
Derekâs gaze flickers, something unreadable passing over his face before he steps back, giving her space. âI know,â he says again, and this time, thereâs no hint of doubt in his voice.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air between them is heavy with unsaid things, emotions that neither of them is willing to fully confront. Fallon feels the weight of it pressing down on her, but sheâs too tired to push anymore. Too tired to keep fighting.
Derek shifts, breaking the silence. âYou were right,â he admits, his voice gruff. âI shouldâve told you about Boyd. And I shouldnât have had him sedate you.â
Fallon glances up at him, surprised by the apology. Itâs not exactly what she expected. Derekâs never been one to admit when heâs wrong, but thereâs something in his tone, something genuine, that softens the edges of her anger.
She exhales slowly, running a hand through her hair. âYeah. And youâre really stupid for both of those things,â she says, her voice quieter now, the fight slowly draining out of her. âBut I guess⊠I understand why you did it.â
Derek watches her carefully, as if trying to gauge her reaction. âDoes that mean youâll help me?â
Fallon raises an eyebrow. âHelp you with what?â
âTraining them.â He pauses, then adds, âIsaac, Erica, Boyd. I trust you to help.â
Fallon blinks, caught off guard by the request. She expected Derek to push her away again, to keep her at armâs length like he usually does. But thisâ this is something different. It feels like a small olive branch, a way of mending the cracks in whatever this is between them.
âYou want me to help train your new pack?â she asks, crossing her arms and tilting her head slightly.
Derek nods, his expression serious. âYeah. Youâve been training with me longer than any of them. I trust you.â
The words hang in the air for a moment, and Fallon canât help but feel a flicker of warmth in her chest despite everything. Trust isnât something Derek gives easily, and the fact that heâs asking for her help... it means something.
Fallon lets out a small, tired laugh. âI guess I canât say no to that, can I?â
A small smile tugs at the corner of Derekâs mouth, and for a moment, the tension between them eases. Itâs not a full reconciliation, but itâs a start.
âJust donât sedate me again,â Fallon mutters, punching him lightly in the shoulder as she walks past him, heading for her bed.
Derekâs smile widens slightly, and he nods. âWonât happen again⊠Unless you force my hand.âÂ
As she sits on the edge of her bed, Fallon watches Derek for a moment, the weight of the past few days slowly lifting off her shoulders. Sheâs still upset, still hurt by the way things went downâbut maybe, just maybe, they can figure this out together.
âTomorrow, then?â Derek asks, turning toward the window, ready to leave the same way he came in.
âYeah,â Fallon says, her voice a little lighter now. âTomorrow.â
He pauses for a moment, glancing back at her, something unreadable in his eyes. Then, without another word, he slips out the window, disappearing into the night.
Fallon sits there for a moment longer, staring at the empty space where heâd just been. Sheâs still tired, still sore, but for the first time in days, she feels a little less weighed down.
Tomorrow, she thinks, maybe things will be different.
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Watching Derek toss Erica and Issac around wasnât necessarily Fallonâs idea of training them. They have been in the railway depot for the past four hours and itâs been the same pattern. Issac and Erica charge at Derek, and he tosses them across the room. Boyd had put in effort in the beginning but once he realized that Derek would just toss him to the side, he took to watching from the wall. Heâs smart. Some may view it as less determined, but Fallon sees it as him knowing when to choose his battles.Â
She watches curiously, tilting her head as Issac jumps over the different obstacles in the train station before launching himself forward to tackle Derek from behind. Of course, that didnât work. Derek grabs him by the collar of his shirt and chucks him across the room, the blonde boys body cracking loudly as he hits the floor. She sighs. This isnât the correct way to teach them how to fight. Fighting is a dance of some sort. When Gerard and the hunters come for them, they arenât going to be standing, waiting for an attack. Theyâre going to be fighting back. It takes two to fight and so far all sheâs seen is Derek standing in the center of the room, not attacking.Â
Fallon has sparred with all three of them intermittently, but itâs been mostly Derek. Boyd is strong and calculated, he tends to work smarter not harder which she admires. Itâs a tactic she tends to use. Erica over compensates. She wants to prove how much stronger she is due to being underestimated her entire life because of her epilepsy. Issac on the other hand is strong but his moves arenât calculated. He tends to charge before thinking. His swings can be sloppy when he starts to get angry. Fallon could feel his anger when they sparred, thatâs how she knew how to beat him. But the difference between her and Derek is she actually fought them.Â
She shakes her head as Derek throws Erica in the same direction he did Issac, the girl groaning as she collapses to the floor. âDoes anyone wanna try not being completely predictable?â Derek huffs irritably.Â
Fallon fights the urge to sweep out his legs from underneath him. She shouldnât embarrass him in front of his betas. Thatâs why they have their own personal training sessions. Sheâs here to help and observe, not challenge his authority⊠even if she desperately wants to.
Fallonâs eyebrows shoot up into her hairline as Erica pounces up from her spot, wrapping her legs around Derekâs torso. She slams her lips to his, and without much thinking, Fallon is quick to run over and rip the girl off of him. She doesnât even realize sheâs doing it until her chest is heaving heavily and Erica is clear across the train station. Derek wipes his mouth, his own uncomfortableness showing after Ericaâs intimate invasion of his space. But he is slightly amused by how fast Fallon acted. Her jealousy is becoming more and more blatant every time they interact, and Derek is kind of enjoying it.Â
âThatâs the last time you do that,â his eyes glaze over Fallon who canât seem to make eye contact with him. Sheâs not embarrassed of her actions, heâd be able to sense it. Itâs almost like sheâs nervous.Â
âWhy?â Erica snaps. âBecause Iâm a beta?âÂ
âNo,â he states matter-of-factly, growing more annoyed with her attitude the longer theyâre together. âBecause I have someone else in mind for you.âÂ
âOr maybe because he has someone else in mind for himself,â Issac mumbles, glancing in Fallonâs direction. She fights off the blush that threatens to rise on her cheeks as she looks in the other direction. âLook, are we done?â The blonde boy rolls his eyes. âI got about a hundred bones that need a few hours to heal.âÂ
A fake look of sympathy crosses Derekâs face as he crouches down, âCome hereâŠâ he gestures for Issac to get closer. A rookie mistake. Derek grips Issacâs arm roughly, bending it backwards causing a loud snap to echo through the space. The teen cries out in pain, clutching his now broken forearm. âA hundred and one,â Derek snarls. âYou think I'm teaching you to fight? Huh?â Issac cowers backwards from his aggressive tone. âLook at me! I'm teaching you how to survive!â
âIf they wanted us dead, why arenât they coming for us now? What are they waiting for?âÂ
Derek sighs before standing back up and taking a step back, âI don't know. But, they're planning something. And you especially know that's not our only problem. Whatever that thing is that killed Isaac's father, I think it killed someone else last night. Until I find out what that is, you all need to learn everything that I know... As fast as I can teach you.â Without another glance in his betas direction, he disappears into the beat up train car behind him.Â
Fallon frowns, sharing a look with the other three betas in the room. By the pleading look in Issacâs eyes, she can already tell they want her to talk to him. She nods and follows after Derek. Entering the car, she watches as he begins to put things away and organize different tools. She leans against the doorway, crossing her arms. The brunette would announce her presence, but she doesnât need to. He already knows sheâs there.Â
âIf you came in here to tell me I was being too harshââÂ
âDo you wanna go get pizza?â Fallon cuts him off.Â
Derek pauses. Did she really just ask him that? He turns around, his eyebrows furrowed as his brain processes what she just said. âWhat?â He asks.Â
Fallon chuckles lightly, âDo you want to go get pizza?â She repeats herself. âI know a pretty good place in town,â she flashes her bright eyes at him.Â
âYou really came in here to ask me to get pizza?â He asks, his tone a bit amused. He was truly expecting her to tear into him for being too rough on Issac.Â
âYeah,â Fallon bites her bottom lip, a tad bit nervous that he might turn her down. âI mean, weâve been at this pretty much all dayâŠâ she points out. âI can see youâre frustrated and I donât know about you, but when Iâm frustrated, it usually means Iâm hungry. And food makes everything better, soâŠâ she gazes at him hopefully. âPizza?âÂ
Derek canât hide the smile that creeps up on his lips. He has to cough to try and cover it up, but she definitely already saw it. He rolls his eyes at her already teasing expression. He grabs his jacket before walking over to her, âLetâs go.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     âWas this a good idea or what?â Fallon smirks, swallowing the clump of pizza thatâs in her mouth. Derek sits across from her in the booth theyâre in, the two of them enjoying the dim light the pizza joint is providing them.Â
Derek takes a bite of his own slice. He reluctantly nods, sitting back slightly, âYeah, itâs good.âÂ
Fallon folds her hands together, leaning on the table. The low lighting catches in her eyes making tiny sparkles shine around her irises. âAnd you seem to be in a better mood,â she grins. âTold you pizza would fix everything.âÂ
Derek raises a brow, âReally? I agree to come out with you and the first thing you say is âI told you so?ââ
âCause I did,â Fallon chuckles. âCome on, Derek. Youâre sitting here with me, eating pizza like a normal person. Youâre allowed to admit youâre having fun.â She teases him.
Derek takes a deliberate bite of his slice, eyes locked on hers. âIâm having pizza,â he corrects, his tone as dry as ever, though thereâs a hint of amusement lurking in his gaze. âThatâs not the same thing as âhaving fun.ââ
Fallon leans back in her seat with a scoff, crossing her arms, eyes sparkling as she locks onto him. âOh, please. Youâre totally having fun, and you know it. Youâre practically glowing.â
Derek raises an eyebrow at that. âGlowing?â
âYep.â Fallon grins smugly with a confident nod. âYouâre positively radiant, Hale. You should probably start a skincare routine or something to tone it down.â
Derek lets out a short laugh under his breath, shaking his head. âYouâre ridiculous.â
Fallon shrugs. âYeah, but youâre still here. So what does that say about you?â She smirks, sipping her Dr. Pepper.
Derek pauses, his eyes narrowing playfully as he leans back in the booth, studying her. âIt says Iâve made some questionable decisions.â
Fallon gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. âWow, thatâs rude. Iâll have you know, pizza with me is never a bad decision.â
Derek glances down at his half-eaten slice, then back up at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. âIâll give you that one.â
Fallon beams, feeling oddly triumphant. Itâs not often she gets Derek to play along, even just a little, and seeing him like thisâ almost relaxedâ is rare. And she canât help but enjoy it.
âYâknow, not to kill this great time that weâre having, but we should probably talk about what happened at trainingâŠâ she brings up.
âWhat about it?â Derek asks, taking another bite of his pizza.Â
âThe whole tossing your betas across the room thing,â she smiles teasingly. âI wouldnât exactly call that âteaching them how to survive,ââ Fallon mocks his words from earlier.Â
Derek raises a challenging eyebrow, âHow so?âÂ
Fallon looks up at the sky, a small sigh escaping her lips as she tries to find the best way to explain her opinion. She leans forward again, âFighting is likeâŠâ she struggles for a moment, âa dance.âÂ
âA dance?â Derek fights off the urge to laugh.Â
âYes,â she insists seriously. âItâs like a tango of some sort. It takes two to tango, the same way it takes two to fight,â she explains reasonably. âYouâre doing them a disservice by just standing there waiting to toss them aside. I guarantee that when Gerard and the hunters, and whatever new creature is out there tries to attack, theyâre not going to be waiting around for you guys to strike first. Theyâre going to fight back. So if you want them to survive, you have to fight with them, not just them fighting you.âÂ
Derek takes in her words. While he finds the dance analogy a little ridiculous, sheâs right. âThatâs why Iâve gotten so good,â she grins cockily. âCause we fight collaboratively.âÂ
âCollaboratively?â He tilts his head, amused.
âYes,â she enunciates with a playful eye roll. âYou have to remember that youâre not just their Alpha, youâre their teacher too. Now, Iâm not trying to tell you how to handle your betas or scold you by any means, but they look up to you. They trust you. So itâs important to continue to build on that. Trust means respect, and I know how much you value that.âÂ
He didnât think she paid attention to him that much, but what was he expecting? Fallon Donovan has to be one of the most perceptive people he knows. Perhaps thatâs why sheâs so in tune with other peopleâs emotions. âI do,â he nods his head. âBut if fighting is like a tango,â he mocks, âthen youâre going to need to help me teach them from now on.â He presents the condition. âSince you apparently have such a great understanding.âÂ
âIâm choosing to ignore the sarcasm because I am just so flattered you asked me to be your permanent co-trainor,â she smiles. âBut just know, I donât take being bossed around very well.âÂ
âTrust me, I know,â he nods his head, scrunching his face up.Â
Fallon scoffs, still with a grin on her face, âYouâre mean.â
âYet youâre still sitting here with me,â he counters with a cocky shrug.Â
Her smile softens into something more delicate as she stares at him, âYeah, I am.âÂ
They fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, Fallon sipping her drink while Derek finishes his pizza. The buzz of the restaurant hums around them, but it feels distant, like theyâre in their own little bubble. Fallon catches Derek watching her out of the corner of her eye, but when she glances up, he quickly looks away, busying himself with his drink. Fallon smirks.Â
âSo,â she starts, leaning forward again. âDo I get a prize for dragging you out of your cave and into the real world?â
Derek raises an eyebrow. âA prize?â
âYeah, you know, for being an amazing friend,â she teases. âLike, maybe next time you owe me a night out. Or, I donât know, a thank-you would suffice.â
Derekâs lips twitch, and he leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing. âI already said youâre right. Donât push it.â
Fallon feels a little shiver run down her spine at the way his voice drops, but she doesnât let it show. âIâm just saying⊠pizza wasnât the worst idea, was it?â
He holds her gaze for a second longer than necessary, and Fallonâs heart skips a beat before she quickly averts her eyes, pretending to focus on her drink.
âDefinitely not the worst idea,â Derek says, and thereâs something about the way he says itâ low and almost softâ that has Fallon biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling too wide.
Before she can respond, the waitress suddenly appears, interrupting the moment as she sets down a milkshake with whipped cream and two straws. âThis oneâs on the house for the cute couple,â she chirps with a wink, leaving before either of them can get a word in.
Fallonâs eyes go wide, her brain scrambling to catch up. âWaitâno, weâre notââ
But the waitress is already gone, leaving the two of them sitting there, frozen, with the milkshake between them. Fallon chances a glance at Derek, who looks just as thrown as she is. His usual composure cracks for a split second, and itâs enough to make her cheeks flush with heat.
âUh⊠well, that was⊠something,â Fallon mutters, her voice higher than usual.
Derek shifts in his seat, clearing his throat. âYeah. Definitely⊠something.â
Fallon fiddles with the napkin in front of her, feeling the sudden awkwardness settle between them. The words âcute coupleâ keep echoing in her head, and the longer the silence stretches, the more flustered she feels.
After a moment, she forces herself to look up, trying to play it cool. âSoâŠshould we?â Fallon asks, gesturing to the milkshake, her voice still tinged with amusement.
Derek raises an eyebrow. âWhat, share it?â
âWhy not?â Fallon rubs the back of her neck, trying not to let the butterflies in her stomach get too out of hand. âI mean, we wouldnât want to waste it, right?â
Derek gives her a sideways glance, and for a second, Fallon swears heâs suppressing a smile. âYeah⊠sure.â
They both reach for a straw at the same time, their fingers brushing against each other for the briefest moment. Fallon quickly pulls her hand back, her heart doing an embarrassing little flip. She silently scolds herself, but the damage is done.
They each take a sip from the milkshake, neither of them making eye contact. Fallon is hyper-aware of the fact that theyâre both drinking from the same glass, from two straws just inches apart, and her mind keeps circling back to the comment the waitress made.
She pulls back after a few sips, crossing her arms over the table and letting out a soft chuckle. âYou know⊠if anyone else heard that, theyâd totally believe we were a couple.â
Derek smirks, setting his straw aside. âYeah? Whyâs that?â
Fallon shrugs, trying to play it off casually. âI donât know. We hang out a lot, we share food⊠and now apparently milkshakes. Itâs not a huge leap.â
Derek leans in slightly, his voice teasing again. âSo you think people think weâre a couple?â
The way he says it catches her off guard, and she swears thereâs a flirtatious edge to his words. Her pulse quickens, but she tries to brush it off. âI mean, clearly that waitress did.â
Derekâs eyes gleam with amusement, and he leans back in his seat, arms crossing over his chest. âMaybe sheâs onto something.â
Fallon freezes, her mouth going dry as she tries to figure out if heâs joking or not. But before she can respond, Derek takes another sip of the milkshake, completely unbothered, as if he didnât just make her heart do somersaults in her chest.
She narrows her eyes at him, realizing heâs messing with her now. âYouâre enjoying this, arenât you?â
Derek meets her gaze, his smirk growing slightly. âMaybe.â
Fallon rolls her eyes, but she canât help the small smile tugging at her lips. âYouâre impossible.â
âYouâre the one who invited me out,â Derek points out, finishing off the last of his pizza slice.
âYeah, yeah, whatever,â Fallon mutters, though sheâs secretly glad she did. Thatâs when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She furrows her eyebrows, pulling out the device to see who would be messaging her. It canât be her dad because heâs on the night shift tonight.Â
A small gasp leaves her mouth when she reads the text message from Scott. Derek looks at her concerned, âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
âItâs StilesâŠâ she says worriedly, rapidly grabbing all of her stuff. âHe-he was getting his jeep fixed at the mechanics and the thing thatâs been killing people showed up. It killed the guy fixing his car and paralyzed Stiles. Scott just picked him up.âÂ
Derek stands up immediately, âHere, Iâll take youââ
âNo, itâs okay,â she rushes out. âIâI just gotta go.âÂ
Derek stops her from running out by grabbing her shoulders, âFallon⊠I drove us here,â he deadpans.Â
She realizes that she doesnât exactly have a choice. Her mouth falls into an âoâ shape. She nods her head, âOkay, yeah. You take me.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Walking into the high school, Fallon hurriedly looks for her best friends. Derek had dropped her off at the crime scene where she was able to climb into Scottâs car to check in on Stiles. They both were visibly confused watching her leave Derekâs Camaro, but they had more pressing issues to talk about. She knows theyâre going to have a lot of questions, hence why sheâs strutting through the hallway with both of their favorite coffee orders.Â
She grins when she notices them sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Sheâs careful not to spill any of the drinks, but has to hold back a laugh when she hears the words leaving Stilesâ mouth. âI'm so sorry about the other day. I'm trying. We'll get through this. Uh, I know, because I love you. I love you more thanââ
âShould I come back later?â Fallon interrupts the sentiment with a small smirk. âSeems you're making progress with the whole making out with Scott thing, Sti.â She chides playfully before plopping down on Scott's other side, handing the two boys their drinks.Â
Stiles takes it gratefully, taking a fast sip. He shakes his head definitively at Scott, âYeah, no, I-I canât do this. You and Allison just have to find a better way to communicate.âÂ
Fallon shoots Scott a pointed look, âHe got attacked by a crazy monster last night and you have him running around being a messenger pigeon for you and your girlfriend?âÂ
âCâmon,â Scott begs his best friend. âYouâre the only one we can trust. Iâd ask Fallon but as we just saw, we all know sheâs a hard no.âÂ
âI never said I wouldnât do it.â She scoffs.
âWould you?â Scott quirks a brow.Â
A beat of silence. âNo.âÂ
âExactly,â Scott nods triumphantly. He glances back to Stiles, âDid she say if she was coming to the game tonight?â He asks hopefully.Â
âYes,â Stiles rolls his eyes, desperately wanting to shift the conversation to something more important. âOkay, message complete. Now, tell us about your boss.âÂ
âHe thinks that Allison's family keeps some kind of, uh, records of all the things that they've hunted, like a bookâŠâ Scott tries to explain.
Stiles nods his head, âHe probably means a bestiary.âÂ
Knowing the Argents, they probably do have some dusty old book they keep locked up in their basement or something. It would definitely help them out if they could get a hold of it. And a little selfishly, Fallon hopes they have something documented about what she is. That way adjusting and learning control might be a little easier.Â
âWhat?â Scott asks, a small chuckle leaving his lips.Â
âA bestiary,â Stiles repeats himself, not understanding what's so funny.Â
Scott giggles like a little girl, âI think you mean bestiality,â he says, trying to correct Stiles.
Fallon blinks, âNo, Iâm pretty sure he meant bestiary,â she deadpans. âItâs like an encyclopedia of mythical creatures. What they are, their powers, how they came to be, all that jazz.â She explains, slightly disgusted that Scottâs mind went so far in the other direction.
The boy's jaw falls slack, âHow am I the only one who doesnât know anything about this stuff?â He asks exasperatedly.Â
âConsidering that both of my best friends are now creatures of the night, itâs kind of, like, a priority of mine,â Stiles waves his hands in the air to emphasize his point.Â
Scott looks up at Fallon, waiting for an answer. She shrugs, âI read a lot⊠And weâve also been spending a hell of a lot of time trying to figure out your crap, so. Iâd say us being prepared for stuff like this isnât exactly the most outlandish thing in the world.âÂ
Scott sighs, silently admitting that theyâre right. âOkay. If we can find it, and it can tell us what this thing isââ
âAnd who,â Stiles adds.
The three friends make eye contact, âWe need that book,â they say simultaneously.
For the rest of the day, Stiles is forced to run back and forth between Scott and Allison, delivering messages for the two since they canât be seen together. Fallon offers to tag herself in once she notices Stiles starting to sway back and forth when he runs. He agrees to the much needed break until she comes back and then he has to go back at it again.Â
Fallon sits back down at their table with a small laugh as she watches Stiles sprint. She shakes her head and turns her attention back to the uneaten almond butter and jelly sandwich in front of her. She takes a bite of it, noticing Scott staring at her.Â
She wipes the corner of her mouth, âWhatâs up?â The brunette asks, confused as to why heâs looking at her.Â
âDo you wanna talk about how Derek dropped you off at the crime scene yesterday?âÂ
There it is. Fallon winces at his bluntness. She shouldâve guessed that eventually they would need answers. She just assumed it would be both of them asking rather than just Scott. âHe asked me to help train Erica, Issac, and Boyd,â she admits shyly, trying to not make it a big deal. âSo I had been with him all day and he took me to get food when you texted. I didnât really have time to go back for my bike because I wanted to make sure Stiles was okay, so he just took me.âÂ
âSo youâre helping him train his betas now?â Scott furrows his eyebrows. âFall, youâre barely even trained yourself.â
âI know that,â she says, getting a bit snippy. âI might not have all my werewolf senses down, but Iâm still good in combat,â she points out. âThatâs what he was training them in. I donât know if you remember, but I was the most physically fit one in the group before any of us got the bite. So I think Iâm qualified enough to show them how to do hand-to-hand combat.âÂ
Scott sighs, realizing how offensive his previous statement came off. âFall, I-I know you can fight,â he nods. âIâm sorry. I just donât want you to end up getting sucked into Derekâs trap. I mean, it starts out with him just asking you to help him train, and then it turns into him forcing you to be in his pack. I justâŠâ he exhales, looking at her worriedly. âDonât want you to get hurt.âÂ
Fallon reaches across the table and grabs his hand. Sheâs touched by the sentiment. Scottâs always been protective and she canât be mad at him for wanting to keep her safe. She is getting tired of hearing that from both him and Derek though. âI can handle myself, Scotty.â She smiles softly, âI promise. And heâs not gonna force me to join his pack. He knows Iâm with you.âÂ
His shoulders visibly relax at her words. He squeezes her hand gently, feeling reassured. As long as he has his friends, thatâs all he needs.Â
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Fallon huffs loudly as another one of the members of the Beacon Hills lacrosse team gets run over by this monster of a kid on the opposing team. Sheâs scored a few times against them, but this guy has to be at least ten feet tall and three hundred pounds. Heâs a beast. Fallon isnât even sure heâs an actual high school student.Â
She would resort to her werewolf abilities, but with Gerard in the stands, it wouldnât be smart to reveal her unnatural strength. So tonight sheâs back to relying on her original lacrosse abilities, which is better than what most could say.Â
âMcCall! Donovan!â Jackson seethes as he walks over to them. âWhat the hell are you idiots waiting for? This is the semi-finals! Run that âroid-head into the ground!âÂ
âUs?â Scot scoffs at him. âYouâre the one whoâs been saying weâre cheaters!â
âI never called Donovan a cheater,â he clarifies condescendingly. âShe could play before. But one of you needs to do something. âCause that freak of nature being on the field isnât fair either!âÂ
âWe canât,â Fallon whispers, glancing at the bleachers. âNot while Allisonâs grandfather is here.âÂ
She notices Stiles snagging the keys to Gerardâs office and smirks. Unfortunately itâs short lived as the guy she just passed the ball to is plowed over by the absolute abomination on the field. She winces as she hears the guy's bones breaking. Some of the sports med kids come out and load him onto a stretcher, escorting him off the field.Â
Returning back to the game, Fallon weaves in and out of the opposing players. She doesnât even notice Matt walking over to Melissa, camera in hand. âHe belong to you?â He asks the mother who watches her kid and kid-by-proxy run around the field. She tries not to bite her nails, silently praying that neither of them get hurt.Â
She glances up at the strange boy, but she relaxes seeing his lacrosse uniform. âNo, both of mine are still on the field,â she answers, classifying Fallon as her own. Noah, her, and Michael have all accepted the fact they are all parents to the trio. âWhile Iâm here wishing he wouldâve stuck with tennis and she wouldâve just stayed with theatre.â Thatâs when her eyes travel to the camera in his hand. He nods to it, âYou the yearbook photographer?âÂ
Matt shakes his head, looking back out to the field. âNo. I, uh, I just take pictures.âÂ
âJust lacrosse, or other things?â
Matt glances down at his camera with a small smirk on his face. âAnything that catches my eyeâŠâ he mumbles admiringly as he scrolls through the many photos of a certain brunette on the field. The only thing he canât figure out is why thereâs a purple glare near her eyes in every photo heâs captured over the last few weeks. She still looks beautiful nonetheless.Â
Fallon chucks her stick onto the ground as Abramovitz crashes into Danny, no doubt giving him a concussion. At this rate they're not gonna have enough players to finish this game out. Scott runs over to her, âYou need to relax, Fall.âÂ
âThe plan isnât going to work if we donât have enough players,â she whispers. âI have to find a way to sneak outta here without Coach noticing. And if we only have half the team left out here, heâs definitely gonna notice.â She says frustratedly.Â
âWeâll figure it out,â Scott pats her back before his eyes light up with an idea. âActually⊠how against are you getting an injury?âÂ
Fallon swallows thickly as she notices Scott glancing at Eddie. âI guess Iâm not completely opposed⊠As long as I can heal fast enough to go help Stiles.âÂ
He tilts his head, âLetâs just see how this goes, yeah?âÂ
Once everyone spris back into action, Fallon watches Scott with careful eyes, trying to put together his plan to get her off the field. Sheâs a little late in realizing when he chucks the ball at her. She catches it with ease but not before being sent flying in the other direction by the man whoâs been terrorizing the Cyclones. Thereâs no audible crack, but she definitely does hit her head too hard to be considered okay to play. She hears audible gasps and Coach yell a certain swear word as sheâs assisted to her feet. The world spins for a moment before her supernatural healing kicks in. This is the plan. She acts injured enough to stay off the field and then sneaks off.Â
As soon as sheâs sat down on the bench, she squeezes her eyes shut and groans in order to really sell it. Coach bites his knuckles to prevent himself from freaking out as he lost one of his best players. He turns his attention to Danny and thatâs when Fallon takes her opportunity. She stands up to her feet like absolutely nothing is wrong and bolts towards the school.Â
She zooms through the parking lot, but stops suddenly when she hears small muffled cries coming from nearby. She frowns and turns to where the noise is coming from and thatâs when she notices a very distraught and upset looking Lydia. The brunette walks over to her car, the strawberry blonde quickly wiping her tears away so Fallon wouldnât see them.Â
âLyds?â Fallon tilts her head. âAre you alright?â She questions softly, not wanting to come off as nosey or pushy.Â
Lydia forces a smile onto her lips, âIâm fine,â she lies. Fallon gives her a pointed look and thatâs when she crumbles. She canât hold it in anymore, âBesides the fact that I feel like Iâm losing my mind.â She sighs, squeezing her eyes tightly as she leans against her headrest.
âWhy do you feel that way?â Fallon questions with pinched brows.Â
âIt started the night at the video storeâŠâ she whispers. âThen what happened at the dance,â her breathing is shaky as flashes of each event goes through her mind. âIâve been seeing things. I-I canât even explain it, I justââ her voice cracks and her breath hitches, âI donât feel safe in my own mind anymore.âÂ
Fallon reaches through the window and rubs her arm comfortingly, âDo you wanna talk about it?âÂ
Lydia shakes her head, a small yet embarrassed smile etching its way onto her lips. âIâm actually waiting for Stiles to come backâŠâ She trails off making Fallon smile brightly.Â
âWell, alright then,â she tries not to make her excitement for Stiles obvious.Â
âShouldnât you be out on the field?â Lydia queries suspiciously.
Fallon looks down at her grass stained uniform and realizes she needs to come up with a believable lie. âUh Iâ uh⊠I⊠had to use the restroom,â she finally spits out. âYeah, really bad. Like if I got hit on the field Iâd probably pee my pants bad.â Lydia gives her a weird look from the rambling so Fallon takes a step back. âWhich reminds me, I should probably go do that. If I see Stiles, Iâll be sure to send him out.âÂ
Without another glance back at the crying girl, Fallon darts into the school. Sheâs quick to run over to Gerardâs office, frowning when she notices the door is still ajar⊠with no Stiles. The keys he used to unlock the room are still lodged in the door which tells her he didnât leave out of his own free will.Â
âDammit,â she grumbles before running through the halls once more. The brunette looks through the halls, trying to see if Stiles is calling for her. Using her werewolf hearing, she listens for his familiar voice, or just any sound he would make. Eventually the faint sound of arguing meets her ears and she rounds the corner to run straight down the hallway. The sound increases the closer she gets to the pools. She furrows her eyebrows, wondering why the hell Stiles would be here.Â
âStiles?!â Fallon calls out, as she pushes the door open. She stops in her tracks when she comes face to face with an unconscious Erica and a waterlogged Stiles and Derek. The boys are struggling to take a breath in the large pool where it appears Stiles is holding Derek up. Or at least trying to. Itâs hard to tell since Derek's head doesnât stay above water for more than fifteen seconds.Â
âWhat the hell is going on?â The boys stare at her with wide eyes, her voice pulling them from whatever argument they were previously having.Â
Derekâs attention is solely on her, completely forgetting Stiles was even talking. âFallon, get in the pool now!â He yells at her, his voice reverberating off the walls.
âWhat? Why?!â She asks, confused, taking a step closer to the poolâs edge. Unfortunately, something beats her to it.
Her breath catches in her throat as a scaly monster with yellow slits for eyes jumps in front of her. Itâs the creature that killed those people and paralyzed Stiles. She freezes, but doesnât miss the way her claws extend. Her body is ready to fight before her mind has even caught up. Derek and Stiles watch in horror as the beast circles Fallon like its prey. They all collectively hold their breaths as its claws move up as if itâs going to scratch her. Fallon squeezes her eyes shut, bracing for the sting, but it doesnât come.Â
Her eyes shoot open as the creature runs its hand along her cheek, vaguely reminding her of the way Peter did. She tries not to grimace as the beast simply admires her. It makes no move to hurt her, seemingly distracted by her presence.Â
Stiles takes this as an opportunity to lug himself and Derek towards the edge of the pool where his phone lies. While Fallon provides them with a distraction, this could be their way out. That, of course, would be too easy. Whatever that thing is takes note of Stilesâ sudden movement, diverting its attention from Fallon to where her spastic friend is splashing about. As soon as the beast runs to stop Stiles, Fallon takes this as her chance to jump in the pool, not wanting to give the creature another chance to get close to her.
Stiles takes Derek and quickly swims away from the edge of the pool where his phone is. Fallon is quick to meet them in the middle making Stiles look at her exasperatedly, âWhat the hell did you jump in for?â He yells. âYou couldâve went and got us help!âÂ
âAs far as Iâm concerned, Iâm the only help coming!â She yells back, moving to take some of Derekâs body weight off of Stiles. âIf Scott were to take off in the middle of the semi-finals it would raise suspicions. Only one of us could.âÂ
âAnd just because it didnât hurt her doesnât mean it will let her leave,â Derek defends her, getting some reprieve from having two people holding him up instead of just Stiles. He glances back at the brunette, âYou okay?âÂ
Fallon nods, pumping her legs as hard as she can to keep them afloat. âYeah, Iâm fine.â She spits some water out of her mouth, âWhat is that thing? And what did it do to you?âÂ
âIt paralyzed him,â Stiles answers. âSame thing it did to me,â he tries to suck in a deep enough breath to ease the stitch in his side. âWe donât know what it is, just that itâs scary and definitely will kill us the second we step out of the pool.âÂ
âAnd youâre not healing?â She asks Derek. âWouldnât you be able to move sooner since your immune system recovers faster?â
âI donât know,â Derek bites out, starting to get frustrated at his own impotence.Â
Even with her werewolf powers, helping Stiles keep Derek up is a grueling effort. The man has to be all solid muscle which only makes him that much heavier. She has to hold onto him tightly in order not to lose her grip. The three of them constantly look around the pool trying to keep an eye out for the terrifying creature. It somehow manages to vanish into thin air, most likely hiding in the rafters far above their heads. Thatâs what most predators do. Find the high ground to stalk their prey.Â
âYou both get me out of here before I drown,â Derek commands as he struggles to keep his head above water. Fallon tries to take as much of his weight as she can, and he notices because Stiles is bobbing much higher than he was before.Â
âYou're worried about drowning?â Stiles snaps incredulously. âDid you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of razor sharp teeth?â He shoots the man a pointed look for his complaints.
âDid you notice Iâm paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water?â Derek snaps back, much more irritable than Stiles.Â
âWould you both shut up?!â Fallon says breathily, feeling like sheâs holding up both Derek and Stiles at this point. âYou two arguing isnât going to help us get out of here.âÂ
Both of them narrow their eyes at her. She simply returns the glare causing Stiles to huff, âIt likes you, canât you get out and fight it or something to give us enough time to get out?âÂ
âNo, she canât,â Derek responds for her in a snippy manner. âSheâs not going to go out there and risk her life for something that might not even work. She can fight, but she doesnât have full control yet. Iâm not gonna put her in a situation thatâs gonna get her killed.âÂ
âIâm not trying to get her killed, Iâm trying to come up with an idea that gets us all out of here safely!â Stiles yells at him. âAnd donât tell me things I already know. Sheâs my best friend. I know what she can do.âÂ
Fallon is confused by the way theyâre indirectly fighting over who knows more about her. She shakes her head, âIt wouldnât even work. I was up there with it and the second you started moving, it stopped paying attention to me. It seems more focused on keeping you guys in here than it does on me.â She glances around the room once more, looking up and behind them for good measure. âOkay, I donât see it. Which is either really good or really bad.âÂ
âThatâs good, thatâs really good,â Stiles gasps. âHelp me move him over to the edge so I can grab my phone.âÂ
Fallon does what her best friend asks, lugging Derek over to the edge of the pool. Her head goes under for a split second until she comes up with a small cough. âWait, wait, wait!â Derek yells at them. âStop! Stop!âÂ
Both teens halt their actions, freezing when they see the shadow of the lizard-like creature creeping along the wall. A loud hiss slips across the water, ruining any plans they had at getting Stilesâ phone. It tilts its head before resuming its mission of circling around the pool. Its yellow, intimidating eyes never leave the three people who are frozen under its powerful glare.Â
âWhatâs it waiting for?â Stiles questions as they watch it carefully.Â
âProbably to kill you both,â Fallon mumbles, causing both of the men next to her to give her a pointed look. She shrugs her shoulders, a remorseful expression crossing her face as she realizes that probably wasnât the most appropriate joke to make. âI mean, at least we know Iâll get out of here, right?âÂ
Stilesâ jaw drops in offense, âYou know what? I originally was planning on saving you over Derek, but now⊠Iâm not so sure. Maybe Iâll leave your little werewolf ass for dead this time,â he remarks sarcastically, making Fallon mumble a small apology. Both of them wave it off, not taking her words to heart.
The trio watches with curiosity as the monster keeping them trapped tries to get close to the water. It dips its hand into it only to flinch roughly and hiss. The thing jumps backwards and pushes itself as far away from the pool as it can.Â
âWait, did you guys see that?â Stiles gets their attention. âI donât think it can swim.âÂ
âI donât think thatâs what we should be worried about,â Fallon gurgles as chlorine fills her mouth. âThe real test of whether we live or die is how long we can swim, not whether or not that thing can.â She mentions as her leg begins to cramp up. She didnât realize how stupid it was to jump in with her full lacrosse gear on. Her pads are getting heavier and heavier by the second. âAnd judging by how weâre doing now, I wouldnât say we have very long left.âÂ
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     An hour or so has already passed of Stiles and Fallon trying to keep Derek above water. Itâs gotten to the point where theyâve been below the water more times than theyâve been above. Even with her werewolf abilities, Fallon is starting to get exhausted. She canât imagine how Stiles is feeling, considering heâs been doing this since before she even walked in.Â
âOkay, okay⊠I donât think I can do this much longerâŠâ Stiles exhales, completely exhausted and depleted of any energy.Â
Fallonâs head goes under once more and she barely has enough strength to pull herself up. âMy shoulders hurt,â she whimpers, the pressure from her equipment becoming way too much.Â
Stiles eyes his phone which is still laying on the concrete surrounding the pool. âCrapâŠâ he mumbles. âI forgot youâre still completely dressed out.âÂ
âMy body feels like jello.âÂ
âHow much longer do you think you can last?â The boy asks his brunette friend.
âLike maybe a minute,â she huffs out. It was supposed to sound sarcastic, but the water filling her mouth garbled it a bit more than she intended.Â
âThatâll be enough,â he turns his attention back to his phone, ready to take off towards it.Â
âNo, no, no. Donât even think about it!â Derek stops him, disliking the plan Stiles concocted in his head. Itâs not that he doubts Fallonâs strength, but with how sheâs already been holding up most of his weight for Stiles this past hour, thereâs no way she could do it all by herself. Not even for as little as sixty seconds.Â
âWould you just trust me this once?â Stiles exclaims, begging for some leeway.
âNo!â Derek yells at him furiously.Â
âIâm the one whoâs been keeping you alive this entire time, okay? Have you noticed that?â
âRight,â Fallon says snidely. âCause Iâm not here⊠drowning as I hold seventy percent of his body weight.âÂ
âWhere were you the first hour of this whole mess?â Stiles chirps back. âIf you really wanna make it even, then you shouldâve been holding him on your own.âÂ
Derek rolls his eyes, annoyed, âLook, when the paralysis wears off, who is gonna be able to fight that thing-- you two or me?âÂ
âI would be just fine, thank you very much,â Fallon replies frustratedly.Â
Derek fights the urge to drown himself. He looks directly at Stiles, âYou don't trust me. I don't trust you. You need me to survive, which is why you are not letting me go.â
Stiles hesitates before sending Fallon a sympathetic look. Her eyes widen as Stiles practically throws Derekâs body onto her. âStiles!â Derek screams as he falls directly on top of the brunette girl. His weight on top of the clothing sheâs wearing causes both of them to sink, and fast.Â
Fallon barely has enough time to close her mouth before sheâs plummeting to the bottom of the pool, Derekâs body pushing her faster. It takes a tremendous amount of strength for her to roll out from underneath him. The second sheâs free, she grabs Derekâs torso and tries to swim up with him, but it all just feels too heavy.Â
Her heart stops when she watches Derekâs face turn into an unnatural shade of blue. The air bubbles around his nose begin to disappear and she panics. Heâs so gonna hate me for this. She grabs his face gently, pressing her lips flush to his. She slowly breathes a puff of the minimal air she has into his mouth, hoping itâs enough to keep him conscious. There is a moment though where she feels his lips moving in sync with hers, but she brushes it off. He canât even breathe for himself right now.Â
Suddenly Stiles appears in front of Fallon, his eyes blown wide at what he just witnessed. The girl rolls her eyes, wanting to yell at him saying the man wouldâve died if she hadnât done that. But obviously she canât open her mouth right now. Fallon simply grabs Derekâs right arm, Stiles grabbing his left before they struggle to kick back up to the surface.Â
They all gasp for air, Fallon and Derek coughing from how long they were stuck underneath the water. The change in pressure gives her an automatic headache. Derek glares at Stiles, âTell me you got him,â he says irritably, because if he didnât, he might genuinely drown the boy.Â
Stiles stays silent, not able to make eye contact with either of them which gives them their answer. âIâm going to castrate him,â Fallon growls roughly, panting as she tries to catch her breath.Â
They continue to tread water and hold Derek up for a few more minutes until fatigue hits them roughly again. âI canât stay up any longer. I need something to hold ontoâŠâ
âTheâthe diving board,â Fallon manages to point a few feet in the other direction to the small board which appears to be a Godsend for them. Stiles nods as he and Fallon try to drag Derek towards it. Any kind of relief from holding him up would be greatly appreciated. Stiles tries to grab onto it, but his hand slips, making him let go of Derek. Fallon is once again trying to hold him up alone and just as sheâs about to slip under the water, sheâs yanked out of the pool and gently placed on the concrete.Â
The brunette sits up, watching as Scott growls at the beast, fully wolfed out. The creature screeches at Scott but before it can attack, Scott grabs a glass shard from the floor. He holds it up, intending to use it as a weapon but for whatever reason it makes the beast stop. It tilts its head as it stares at its reflection before screeching again and taking off through the glass ceiling.Â
âGet me the hell out of here,â Fallon grumbles.Â
       · · ââââââ ·đ„žÂ· ââââââ · ·
     Fallon was more than happy with herself when she remembered she had an extra pair of clothes in her locker. She happily grabs the pair of sweats and the tank top she keeps stored in there for days where she accidentally stains her clothes. After changing, the girl is still freezing, especially when she walks outside to meet Scott and Stiles who have already opened a computer to look at the bestiary. Which was a hard drive on Gerardâs key ring, not a dusty old book.Â
Her hands run up and down her arms as she joins her two friends who are engrossed in the information in front of them. âIs that even a language?â Stiles furrows his eyebrows.Â
âHow are we supposed to figure out what this thing is?â Scott sighs exasperatedly.Â
âItâs called a Kanima,â Derek responds, walking towards the three friends with Erica by his side and a jacket in his hand.
Stiles looks like he wants to punch Derek, âYou knew the whole time?!â He asks incredulously.
âNo. Only when it was confused by its own reflection.â
âIt doesnât know what it is,â Scott realizes, piecing together everything that has happened.
Derek nods in agreement, âOr who,â he adds.Â
âWhat else do you know?â Fallon lifts an eyebrow, but not before shuddering from the cool chill in the air.Â
He shrugs, âJust stories. Rumors.âÂ
âBut itâs like us?â Scott interrogates.Â
âA shapeshifter? Yes,â Derek nods. âBut itâsâitâs not right. Itâs like aâŠâ he struggles to find the right word.Â
âAn abomination,â Stiles finishes grimly.Â
Before anything else can be said, Derek wraps the jacket he brought around Fallonâs shoulders. Her hair flows lightly in the breeze and she looks up at him, slightly startled by the blatant act of kindness. She accepts his offer, allowing him to put it around her. It fits like how a warm hug feels. This will be jacket number two sheâs taken from Derek.Â
âIâll take you home,â he whispers to her. He places his hand on her back, albeit a little hesitant, but he does it. Fallon fights off the blush that threatens her cheeks, but she nods. She turns to walk away with him and Erica before Scott calls out.Â
âDerek?â They all turn back around to face him. âWe need to work together on this. Maybe even tell the Argents.â He suggests.
The Alpha werewolf stands there, appalled. âYou trust them?âÂ
âNobody trusts anyone!â Scott exclaims frustratedly. âThat's the problem! While we're here, arguing about who's on what side, there's something scarier, stronger, and faster than any of us, and it's killing people, and we still don't even know anything about it!
âI know one thing,â Derek corrects. âWhen I find it?â He turns back around to continue walking to his car with Fallon and Erica, âIâm gonna kill it.âÂ
Stiles and Scott watch after Fallon who makes her way to the passenger side of Derekâs car. She glances back at them and gives them a reassuring smile. âIâm okay,â she mouths to them. They look reluctant, but eventually turn away and head to their own vehicles. Itâs a slow process, but theyâre learning Fallon can make her own decisions.Â
The car ride is silent, the only thing humming in the background is the smooth A/C of the Camaro. Derek drops Erica off at home first, which slightly surprises Fallon as she lives closer to the school than the blonde does. She also figured after spending over an hour almost drowning in a pool with her, Derek would be trying to escape the brunetteâs company much faster.Â
He puts his car in park right outside their driveway. Michael isnât home so they wonât be raising any suspicions. Fallon twiddles her thumbs, finding it rather difficult to look Derek in the eye after everything that happened. A sudden surge of embarrassment flows through her as she remembers the way she saved him in the pool.Â
âIâm sorry,â she finally breaks the silence.Â
Derek whips his head towards her, giving her an odd look. âFor?âÂ
Fallon internally smacks herself, âYâknow, the wholeâŠâ she trails off, gesturing to her lips in an awkward fashion.Â
Derek blinks, âItâs fine,â he shrugs. âI wouldâve died if you didnât.â He somehow remains unfazed, but thereâs a small twitch in his eyebrow that Fallon misses. It doesnât say much, but it shows he was affected by it too. Especially after the amount of time theyâve been spending together recently. Being mistaken as a couple, the way her lips brushed against his seemed to feel like more than just a life saving measure to him. To both of them. But why would they ever admit that out loud?Â
She clears her throat, âYeahâŠâ She nods rapidly, feeling very self conscious now that she made a big deal out of something he clearly didnât care about. âWell, uh, anyway, umââ she reaches for the door handle, trying to collect herself. âThanks for the ride.âÂ
She swallows harshly when the sound of the lock goes off, trapping her in her seat. Her face goes pale white before she slowly turns around to face him, almost comically slow. His green eyes bore into hers, âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
âIânothing,â she tries to shake her head, fidgeting with her hands once more.Â
âFallon,â Derek stops her, surprising both of them when his body reaches out to grab her restless hands. He looks just as shocked as she does. Almost like his body didnât communicate with his mind before committing to the action. In order to not draw too much attention to it, he moves on. âDon't lie to me. Friends donât lie.âÂ
Friends. Why does that sting? She wants him to be her friend, always has. So why does it suddenly hurt to hear him say that? âItâs just kind of been a rough day,â she breathes out with a humorless laugh. âI mean, I kind of felt useless out there,â she opens up. âI walked into that room, and did absolutely nothing to help. I couldâve tried to fight it or grabbed Stilesâ phone, but all I did was make life harder,â she shakes her head, recalling the events of the last hour. âAnd it touched me, Derek. I donât understand why itâs always me. First Peter, and now whatever the hell this thing is. I donât understand why every psychotic supernatural creature has a freakinâ fascination with me.âÂ
âI mean, can you blame it?âÂ
Fallon looks at him shocked, âCareful, Derek,â she warns him. âThat almost sounded like a joke.âÂ
âThatâs because it was,â he rolls his eyes. His annoyance turns into genuineness, âBut you werenât useless in there. If you hadnât come in when you did, there was no way Stiles would have been able to keep me up for that long. You kept both of us afloat.âÂ
âI donât know what to do with all this praise,â Fallon tries to be playful. She glances around the car, âAre we sure the real Derek didnât actually drown and get replaced by some weird positive doppelganger?â She asks to the invisible ghosts who will never answer her. Derek scoffs, removing his hand from hers as he pretends to be offended. Fallon pouts, âNo, no, no. You already held my hand. Now youâre stuck.â She reaches across the center console and takes his hand back. Itâs calloused yet soft, warm against her usually cold skin. The two of them lock eyes for a brief moment.Â
After a moment of silence, âYou did good tonight,â Derek nods. âYou put your survival training to good use.â He mindlessly rubs her hand with his thumb. He doesnât understand whatâs come over him. He would never touch anyone like this. But thereâs this urge, this pull inside of him that is forcing him to stay as close in proximity as possible. âAnd I donât want you to worry about its sudden interest in you. Iâm not gonna let anything hurt you, or touch you again. I promise,â he reassured her. âIâll be here to protect you.âÂ
âWhat if Iâm the one who protects you?â She challenges him with a raised brow. They both donât notice how the distance between their faces has become a lot smaller.Â
âYou will be,â he admits nonchalantly. âYouâre the only one that doesâŠâ the last part comes out as a whisper, but Fallon still hears him.Â
Fallon bites the inside of her cheek. After everything thatâs happened, she doesnât want to be alone. Truthfully, she doesnât want to be away from Derek. âDo you wanna come inside?â she asks him boldly. Not that he hasnât been in before, but sheâs never blatantly asked him to accompany her. âWe could watch the Harry Potter movies. Yâknow, since I got you to read the books,â she says with a triumphant tone.Â
She expects some sort of witty comeback, but all she gets is him swiftly turning the car off before walking over to her door and opening it for her. She stares at him with wide eyes as he extends a hand out to her, wanting to assist her out of the seat. Fallon looks like a deer in the headlights making Derek smirk cockily. He didnât even have to say anything to win this round.Â
TW: enemies to lovers, both Drew and reader are mean, regular wrestling violence, disrespectful language, I think that's it.
Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling
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     Friday Night SmackDown. The lights felt much brighter than what Y/N was used to in NXT. She had a detailed background in karate and kick boxing, those skills pushing her forward when it came to learning the craft of pro-wrestling. Backstage smelled like lingering pyro and burnt coffee, the exact scent that made her blood start pumping. Itâs her debut match on the main roster. After losing the NXT title to Stephanie Vaquer, the higher ups decided it was about time they gave her a permanent home in the big leagues.Â
She waves politely at some of the crew members she recognies, a few of them having previously worked some NXT shows. The amount of talent whirring past her is overwhelming, but she doesnât let it show. Sheâs here to make an impression. Show no fear and people will respect you.
âY/N?!â A loud and excited voice calls out to her.
The woman spins around and her smile grows wide as she watches Jessica, more popularly known as Tiffany Stratton, darting towards her. She laughs happily as Jessica swoops her up in a hug, âOh my gosh, I didnât know you decided to sign with SmackDown!â She exclaims, slapping her arm playfully. âWhy didnât you tell me?â
âI wanted to surprise everyone,â Y/N explains, giggling as Jessica takes in her appearance. âBesides, itâs no fun if my decision gets leaked. So I kept it close to my chest.âÂ
Jessica rolls her eyes playfully, âWell, Iâm super excited youâre here. Definitely gonna cause some trouble.âÂ
Y/N smirks playfully, âDamn straight. So you better keep an eye on that title,â she says teasingly.Â
Jessica scoffs but she canât help her smile, âOkay, okay⊠I see how it is. Hopefully you keep that energy in the ring.âÂ
Y/N throws her a wink before squeezing her arm fondly, âOh you know I will.âÂ
She adjusts the strap of her gear bag and keeps moving down the bustling hallway. She made a point to nod or smile at whoever crossed her path, camera ops, producers, even the makeup crew she didnât know by name yet. Every nod returned, every subtle glance of curiosity reminded her she wasnât invisible. Her debut was already making waves.
A familiar voice cut through the noise. âWell, well, well⊠look who finally joined the land of the giants.â
Y/N turned sharply, her face breaking into a grin. âPriest?â
Damian Priest leaned casually against a road case, arms folded across his chest, his usual smirk pulling at his lips. His presence radiated the kind of cool confidence that made rookies nervous, but to Y/N, it was just Luis, the guy sheâd shared late-night NXT training sessions and banter with.
âThought Iâd have to wait another year before seeing you up here,â he said, pushing off the case and walking closer.
âYou got called up early,â Y/N countered, tilting her head. âDonât act like you didnât rub it in every chance you got.â
He chuckled, deep and warm. âWhat can I say? Raw needed me. Guess SmackDown got lucky tonight. Now theyâve got both of us in the same place. Almost like nothingâs changed.â
She rolled her eyes, but her grin didnât fade. âAlways so full of yourself.â
âHey, confidence pays the bills,â Luis teased, his eyes flicking over her attire. âBesides, I knew youâd make it. Youâve got that⊠spark.â
The compliment hit heavier than she wanted it to, but she just smirked and nudged his arm. âCareful, Priest. Keep talking like that, and people will think youâre soft.â
Damian leaned in just a little, lowering his voice in that way he always did when he wanted to get a rise out of her. âSoftâs not the word anyoneâs ever used to describe me.â
Y/N laughed, shaking her head, but before she could fire back, a sudden burst of cheers broke out down the hallway. Cody Rhodes had just rounded the corner, carrying himself with the weight of a man who was everywhere all at once.
âY/N L/N,â Cody greeted warmly, extending his hand. âWelcome to SmackDown. Big night for you, huh?â
Y/N shook his hand firmly, masking her nerves with a grin. âBiggest night of my career. Hoping I donât trip over the ropes or something stupid.â
Cody laughed, the kind of laugh that immediately put her at ease. âTrust me, youâll be fine. Everyoneâs excited to see what you bring up here. Just do what you always do â fight like hell, and youâll fit right in.â
âAppreciate that,â she said genuinely, nodding.
As Cody moved along, Y/N caught Damian still watching her, an unreadable look in his eyes. Before she could question it, a low rumble of conversation quieted when Triple H appeared.
The air shifted.
âY/N,â he said, his gravelly voice carrying weight as he stopped in front of her. âGlad I caught you. Got some news for you.â
Her stomach tightened, but she straightened her posture. âWhatâs up?â
âWeâre going to slot you into Tiffanyâs segment tonight,â he explained. âSheâs out there jawing with Nia, so we want you to make an impact. Hit the ring, take them both out. Leave the crowd wondering who the hell you are and why you just flattened two stars in your first five minutes.â
Her lips curled into a slow smirk. âSo⊠chaos. My specialty.â
âThatâs the idea,â Hunter confirmed with the faintest grin. âThen, Cathy Kelleyâs going to catch you backstage for a quick promo. Nothing too heavy â just fire, intensity, a little edge. Show the people who Y/N is.â
Y/N nodded without hesitation. âGot it. Iâll make it count.â
âGood,â he said, clapping her shoulder before moving on. âDonât overthink. Just do what got you here.â
As he disappeared down the hall, Y/N looked at Luis, her smirk still playing at her lips. âLooks like I get to steal the show tonight.â
He leaned closer, his voice low again. âTry not to forget me when youâre running the place.â
Y/N grinned, brushing past him with a playful glance over her shoulder. âNo promises, Priest.â
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     The crowd inside the arena was buzzing, the kind of restless energy that only happened when two women with egos too big for one ring stood face to face. Tiffany Stratton, flawless in pink sequins and her Womenâs Championship glinting on her shoulder, was nose-to-nose with the towering force of Nia Jax.
âYou think youâre championship material?â Tiffany sneered, her voice dripping with arrogance as the crowd booed. âYou couldnât lace up my boots, sweetie.â
Nia smirked, stepping in closer. âThat title looks real comfortable on your shoulder, blondie. Shame it wonât be there much longer.â
The tension crackled, the audience hanging on every word. Wade Barrettâs voice cut through from commentary. âThese two are about to explode, Joe. You can feel it. Tiffanyâs ego, Niaâs temperâitâs a recipe for chaos.â
Joe Tessitore jumped in, âWait a minuteâhold on, whoâWHO IS THAT?!â
The camera panned to the ramp. A figure in a black hoodie had vaulted the barricade with catlike precision, sliding under the bottom rope before either woman even realized what was happening. The arena erupted, half in shock, half in wild cheers.
Wadeâs voice rose, his words stumbling. âWho the hellâwho just hit the ring?!â
The hooded stranger struck first. Nia barely had time to turn before she was yanked into a brutal Muay Thaiâstyle clinch, the strangerâs knee driving up into her gut once, twice, three times, each one echoing through the arena. Tiffany swung wildly, but the figure ducked low, catching her by the wrist and whipping her into the ropes with a snapmare so crisp it drew an audible gasp from the crowd. Tiffany hit the mat hard.
Joe yelled over commentary, âWhoever this is, they know what theyâre doing in there!â
Nia tried to rally, storming forward, but the intruder spun under her lariat attempt, snatching her into a judo-style hip toss that slammed the powerhouse flat on her back. The crowd was now roaring, the chants already breaking out: âHoly Shit! Holy Shit!â
The hooded figure stood tall, chest heaving, and slowly⊠deliberately⊠pulled the hood back.
Y/Nâs face was revealed, and the camera caught the smirk pulling across her lips. The roof practically blew off.
âItâs Y/N! Itâs Y/N from NXT!â Joe shouted, disbelief in his voice. âSheâs here on SmackDown!â
Tiffany crawled toward her title, but Y/N stomped her hand down, forcing her to recoil in pain. Y/N bent, snatched the title belt clean from the mat, and raised it high in the air. The crowd reaction was deafening, cheers, chants, phones flashing everywhere.
Wadeâs voice was almost a growl. âThat is a STATEMENT. Y/N hasnât even had her first official match here, and sheâs already laying waste to the champion and the challenger.â
Y/N tilted her head, smirk deepening as she lifted a microphone from where Tiffany had dropped it. She rested the belt on her shoulder, pacing like she owned the ring.
âThisâŠâ she lifted the mic, her voice calm but laced with venom, ââŠthis is what Iâve been waiting for. My time.â She tapped the title with her finger, eyes flicking between Tiffany and Nia sprawled on the mat. âSee, whether itâs a rookie trying to make a name for themselves, or one of you vets who think youâve got this business on lockâŠâ Her laugh was sharp, condescending. ââŠyouâre all about to find out real quickâ youâve got nothing on me.â
The arena popped again, the mix of cheers and gasps fueling her grin.
âSo hereâs your warning, step up, or get stepped on.â She raised the belt one more time, holding Tiffanyâs championship high above her head as if it already belonged to her.
The camera caught the fury on Tiffanyâs face and the rage in Niaâs glare as Y/N dropped the mic with a loud thunk and threw her hood back up. She mouthed the words âmy timeâ one last time before sliding out of the ring, leaving chaos behind.
The fans were still chanting her name as she disappeared back up the ramp, the commentary team stunned into silence.
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     Y/N shoved past the curtain, her chest still heaving from the rush of the crowd. The noise out in the arena bled faintly into the hallway, a low roar chasing her footsteps. Before she could even pull her wrist tape loose, Cathy Kelley slipped in front of her, mic already in hand, a cameraman scrambling to keep up.
âY/Nâ just a quick word?â Cathy asked, breathless but eager.
Y/N smirked and tilted her head. âSure. Why not?â
The red light on the camera blinked alive. Cathy straightened her shoulders, voice shifting into her on-screen polish. âY/N, tonight was your first night on SmackDown. What does this moment mean for you?â
Y/N leaned into the mic, her eyes cutting sharp into the lens. âIt means SmackDown just got flipped on its head. Everyoneâs been walking around here like theyâve got this division on lock, like theyâre untouchable. Well, Iâm here now, and I donât play by the âwait your turnâ rules. I donât care if youâre the flavor-of-the-month rookie or someone whoâs been here forever. I didnât come here to fall in line. I came here to run it.â
Cathy, quick as ever, followed up. âYou sound confident. Some might say over-confident. Do you really believe no one in the womenâs division can stop you?â
Y/N laughed softly, not breaking eye contact with the camera. âNo one. Not even just the girls in the womenâs division. That applies to everyone. Not a soul in that locker room can outwork me, outfight me, or outshine me. Some of these so-called âvetsâ have been coasting on reputation for years, living off what they did back then instead of proving who they are now. That ends tonight. Iâm not here to kiss rings. Iâm here to take crowns.â
Cathy blinked, thrown just slightly by the edge in her words, but managed to keep the interview rolling. âSo whatâs next for you? Whoâs the first target?â
Y/N arched a brow, that same cocky grin tugging at her lips. âWhoeverâs brave enough to step up. Doesnât matter who. The endâs gonna look the same.â
She brushed past Cathy and the camera like she was brushing off the entire division, the faint echo of her boots on the concrete fading with her.
Off to the side, Drew stood in front of a monitor, arms folded tight across his chest. Heâd been listening since the first word left her mouth, and that line, coasting on reputation, hit harder than a claymore. She hadnât named him, but the sting landed anyway. His jaw flexed, eyes narrowing as her cocky grin filled the screen.
âShe thinks sheâs clever,â he muttered under his breath, the words clipped and heavy. âWeâll see how far that mouth gets her.â
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     Y/N had barely made it a hallway away from Cathy when she felt the tension shift. The hum of production crew chatter, the chaos of road cases being wheeled by, all of it seemed to fade the second she spotted him. Drew McIntyre, arms crossed, a storm brewing in his expression as he watched her like sheâd just insulted his mother.
âAh, there she is,â Drew muttered, stepping into her path. His voice had that low, rolling growl to it, each word deliberate. âThe rookie with the mouth. Thought Iâd come say hello since you couldnât keep mine and every other veteranâs name out of yours.â
Y/N arched a brow, tightening her grip on the towel around her neck. âFunny, I donât remember saying your name at all. Mustâve struck a nerve though, huh?â
His jaw flexed, a muscle twitching. âYou think youâre clever. You think this business owes you a damn thing just because you can string a few cocky lines together on a microphone. But respectâ respect is earned. Not demanded.â
âRespect is a two-way street,â Y/N shot back without missing a beat, smirking. âAnd last I checked, I donât need a lecture from the self-proclaimed locker room dad. You want me to curtsy too, or just kiss the ring?â
Drewâs nostrils flared. He stepped closer, towering over her, voice sharp. âYou want to make it here? Youâd better learn to keep that smart mouth in check. Because the veterans youâre mocking? They paved the road youâre walking on.â
âAnd yet here I am, already lapping a few of them.â The words rolled out of Y/N like venom, her grin widening at the flicker of anger in his eyes.
For a split second, it looked like Drew might snap, his shoulders squared, his voice dropping into that dangerous calm of his. âCareful, lass. Keep talking like that and youâll find yourself flattened before you even get started.â
âBig words for someone picking fights with a woman half his size,â a smooth voice cut in. Both Y/N and Drew turned. Damian Priest had arrived like a shadow, sliding between them with that calm, almost lazy swagger that made him seem untouchable. He rested an arm loosely against Y/Nâs shoulder, not shielding her, but staking his claim.
âReal gentleman move, Drew,â Damian added, his tone deceptively light. âGoing after someone who was just doing her job. You upset because sheâs got more bite than most of the guys in your little veteransâ club?â
Drewâs eyes narrowed at him. âStay out of it, Priest. This doesnât concern you.â
âIt does when youâre barking down at her like sheâs some trainee who spilled your coffee.â Damianâs voice stayed calm, but there was an edge there now.
Y/N smirked again, leaning just past Damianâs shoulder. âDonât worry, Drew. Iâll send you a thank-you card when Iâve got that title around my waist. You know, since Iâm apparently standing on your precious road.â
That sharp grin stayed plastered across her face as she raised her hand and flipped him off, deliberate and bold. Drewâs face darkened, his voice a warning rumble. âYouâve got no idea the storm youâre calling down on yourself, lass.â
âGood,â Y/N shot back, her eyes glinting. âI love the rain.â
With that, Damian pulled her with him, the two of them disappearing down the hallway. But not before Priest threw Drew one last smirk over his shoulder. âBetter hope she doesnât run you over.â
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     Creative had seen the spark immediately. The second Y/N made her SmackDown debut, the audienceâs reactions werenât just loud, they were electric. Pairing her with Damian Priest wasnât just smart, it was inevitable. The sly chemistry between them, that mischievous edge in her smile when she stood at his side, and the added wrinkle of Drew McIntyreâs growing resentment created the perfect storm. The writers wanted fire, and this trio gave them a blaze.
The main event of the night: Damian Priest versus Drew McIntyre.
The arena was already buzzing before the bell rang, the energy thick in the air. âThis is gonna be a war,â Wade Barrett muttered over the live broadcast, but inside the arena it was even louder, the fans split right down the middle. Some were bellowing Drewâs name with pride, others chanting for Damian, the chants overlapping until the entire arena became a wall of sound.
From the opening lock-up, Drew and Damian matched each otherâs intensity. Drew used his sheer power, shoving Damian back toward the ropes with a grunt, flexing his size advantage. Damian, however, countered with fluidity, rolling under Drewâs arm and snapping a quick kick to his ribs. The crowd reacted instantly, roaring as Damian smirked and motioned for Drew to âbring it.â
The two men went move for move. Drew hitting a stiff clothesline that nearly took Damianâs head off, only for Damian to kick out at two and roll straight into a chokehold attempt. The crowd ate it up, cheering every near-fall, groaning at every close kickout. Both men were fighting like this was personal, and in a way, it was.
Halfway through, Damian had the clear upper hand. He stomped down hard on Drew in the corner, leaning into him with vicious forearms. âPriest is all over him!â Joe Tessitore shouted as Damian launched Drew into a Broken Arrow that shook the mat. Drew kicked out at two, and the audience erupted, chanting âThis is awesome!â
But Drew wasnât going down without a fight. He pushed himself up, jaw tight, sweat running down his face as he glared at Damian like heâd just made a grave mistake. He rallied with sharp, punishing offense: belly-to-belly suplexes, a thunderous neckbreaker, and finally that spine-tingling â3âŠ2âŠ1âŠâ countdown from the crowd as Drew retreated to the corner, stomping his foot against the mat, lining Damian up for the Claymore.
The energy peaked, fans were on their feet, the chants deafening. Drew sprinted across the ring, ready to end itâ
And thatâs when the roof nearly blew off.
Y/N appeared out of nowhere, sliding under the bottom rope in a black leather jacket, hood down, eyes burning with defiance. The referee had no time to see her, Y/N moving faster than anyone thought she could. Before Drew even registered it, she grabbed his boot mid-run, halting his momentum. He stumbled forward, breaking stride, fury flashing across his face as he looked down at her.
The crowd roared, some cheering wildly, others booing, but no one sat still. Y/N only smirked up at him, daring him to say something.
That split-second distraction was all Damian needed. He surged forward with a choke slam, throwing Drew roughly into the mat. The Scotsman gasped, eyes up at the lights, stunned. Damian hooked the leg.
âONE! TWO! THREE!â
The refereeâs hand hit the mat, and the bell rang as the arena erupted in shock and noise. Damian had pinned Drew McIntyre.
The ex-Judgment Day star rolled to his feet, chest heaving, and immediately turned to Y/N. She slid into the ring with fluid confidence, grabbing his wrist and yanking his arm into the air like she had just claimed the victory herself. Her smug grin locked directly onto Drew, who was propped up on his elbows, glaring daggers through the hair matted to his face.
The tension in the ring was white-hot. So much so that the audience could feel it, practically taste it in the air. Y/N tilted her head, raising her brows at Drew like sheâd already beaten him without ever stepping in the ring. Then Damian leaned down, brushing his lips against the side of her head in a quick, deliberate kiss.
The crowd popped again, some gasping, others screaming, the mix of cheers and boos echoing off the arena walls. Drewâs expression twisted even further, disbelief and fury carving across his features. His jaw clenched, his fists slammed against the mat, but he couldnât do a damn thing.
Y/N only tightened her grip on Damianâs raised hand, her eyes still locked on Drew like this was only the beginning. And truthfully, it was. Y/N had no idea what she just started with the Scottish Warrior, but she was about to find out.
Creative had barely waited for the dust to settle before pulling the next card. They wanted to strike while the iron was hot. And so, the very next week, Y/N found herself pacing in gorilla position, rolling her shoulders, shaking out her wrists, her eyes narrowed on the monitor. Chelsea Green was already in the ring, taunting the crowd with exaggerated pouts and cocky waves.
âRemember,â one of the producers said, clipboard in hand, âthis is your showcase. Go out there and remind them why youâre here.â
Y/N smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. âOh, donât worry. Iâll make sure they never forget it.â
Her music hit. The crowd erupted, not the polite, cautious cheer of a newcomer, but genuine excitement. She was already becoming must-see. Walking down the ramp with her signature swagger, she played to both sides of the arena, pointing at a group holding up a âSmackDownâs New Queenâ sign, before sliding smoothly into the ring.
The bell rang.Â
From the start, Y/N owned the pace. Chelsea tried to stall, ducking between the ropes with a dramatic squeal, shaking her head at the ref. The crowd booed, and Y/N leaned against the ropes, smirking. âWhatâs the matter, Chelsea? Scared already?â she mouthed.
When Chelsea finally stepped in, Y/N was relentless. A chain wrestling sequence showcased her crisp technique; headlock takeover, quick wrist control, rolling seamlessly into a snapmare. The crowd popped for every transition, and when Y/N popped up to her feet with a playful bow, they roared.
Chelsea tried cheap shots, raking the eyes, yanking the hair, but Y/N countered with fluid reversals, her athleticism undeniable. A sharp dropkick sent Chelsea sprawling into the corner, and Y/N strutted across the ring, cupping her hand to her ear as the fans rallied behind her.
âSheâs really got them eating out of her hand already,â Wade muttered from commentary. âAnd letâs be honest, itâs not just hype. Sheâs backing it up.â
âSheâs arrogant,â Joe countered. âConfidence is one thing. This? This is poking a hornetâs nest. You donât walk into SmackDown and act like you own the place.â
âTell that to the people cheering,â Wade counters sassily.Â
Momentum built. Y/N hit a running knee strike, then climbed the turnbuckle, pointing to the crowd before launching into a missile dropkick that flattened Chelsea. She hooked the leg.
One⊠twoâChelsea kicked out.
No problem. Y/N rolled to her feet, adrenaline pumping, the fans clapping in rhythm now. She circled Chelsea like a predator, signaling her finisher. This was it. She hauled Chelsea upâ
The crowd suddenly erupted in boos. Y/N froze mid-movement, her eyes darting to the ramp. Drew McIntyre.
The Scottish Warriorâs theme blasted through the arena, and there he was, striding down the ramp with that smug grin plastered across his face. He wasnât storming, wasnât charging, just walking slowly, deliberately, sword in hand, eyes locked on the ring.
Y/Nâs heart sank.
âWhat the hell is he doing out here?!â Wade's voice nearly cracked over commentary.
âHeâs returning the favor,â Joe said smugly. âFair is fair.â
âFair?!â Wade snapped. âThis isnât about fair, this is about ego. He couldnât stand her stealing his spotlight, so now heâs here to ruin hers.â
Y/N yelled from the ropes, pointing at Drew. âWhat the hell are you doing?!â
But in her distraction, Chelsea seized the opening. Rolling Y/N up into a tight schoolgirl, the ref dropped to countâ
One⊠two⊠three!
The arena gasped. Shock, cheers, and boos all tangled together as Chelsea squealed, scrambling out of the ring, hands over her mouth like sheâd just won a title. Y/N sat in the ring, stunned, hair falling in her face. Her chest heaved as reality sank in, her big showcase, stolen right out from under her.
And Drew? He stood halfway up the ramp, laughing. A deep, mocking laugh that carried over the jeers. He pointed at her, shaking his head, as if to say welcome to the big leagues.
Y/N gripped the ropes, her knuckles white. Her glare couldâve cut through stone. Then she screamed at him, voice raw, fury echoing through the arena: âYou think this is funny?!â
The camera caught every second, the rage in her eyes, the disbelief, the unfiltered venom. She pounded the ropes, flipping him off with both hands as Drew smirked, turned on his heel, and walked away.
The crowd was split down the middle, half booing Drew mercilessly, half eating up the feud they knew was brewing. But one thing was clear. Y/N wasnât just a flash in the pan anymore. She was in the middle of a war.
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     Y/N stormed through the curtain, her chest still heaving from the match. Sweat slicked her hairline, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles had gone white. She ripped the wrist tape from her arm and tossed it to the floor, muttering curses under her breath. She was beyond pissed, this wasnât just losing. This was her match, stolen out from under her, and no one had the decency to even tell her that the outcome had changed.
And she knew exactly who was behind it.
Drew McIntyre stood a few feet down the hallway, laughing with two producers, his massive frame still radiating arrogance after what heâd just pulled.
That was the last straw.
Y/N marched right up to him, shoved him square in the chest, and snapped, âWho the hell do you think you are, huh? You had no right interfering in my match!â
Drew barely stumbled, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her. His jaw flexed before he tilted his head, voice low but cutting. âIt became my right the moment you decided to stick your nose in mine. You wanted to play games out there with Priest? Well, congratulations, sweetheart. Now youâre in my game.â
âSweetheart?â she spat back, her eyes blazing. âDonât flatter yourself, Drew. I wasnât playing games, I was doing my job. Something you clearly donât understand.â
His lips curled into a humorless smirk. âYour job? Your job is runninâ your mouth and hidinâ behind Priest every time you get in over your head. Donât act like youâre the one carryinâ the weight around here.â
The camera crew had noticed the scene brewing, their red lights blinking as they recorded every word. The footage was already rolling across the arena screens, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as the fight outside the ring began to spill into reality.
Y/N jabbed a finger into Drewâs chest, her voice like venom. âYou think youâre Godâs gift just because youâve been here longer? Because youâre 6â5 and got your little sword? Newsflash, McIntyre, Iâve done more in a month to get this crowd behind me than youâve managed in the last year.â
That one hit. Drewâs expression hardened, his nostrils flaring as his thick accent cut through.
âCareful, lass. Youâve got talent, Iâll give you that. But talent doesnât equal respect. You donât just take it, you earn it. And right now? Youâve earned nothinâ but a broken reputation for stickinâ your nose where it doesnât belong.â
She stepped even closer, her forehead nearly touching his chest, refusing to be intimidated by his size. âRespect isnât something you can demand, Drew. You might scare everyone else backstage, but not me. You want respect? Try not acting like a bitter caveman every time someone else gets the spotlight.â
The crowd watching on the screens roared at the exchange, sensing just how real it was getting. Drewâs eyes burned down at her, his voice dropping into a growl. âYouâve got a sharp tongue, but sooner or later, itâs gonna write a cheque your body canât cash. And when that time comes, donât say I didnât warn you.â
Her laugh was sharp, mocking. âFunny. You sound just like every man whoâs been afraid of me since day one. Guess itâs trueâ biggest guy in the room, smallest ego.â
The crew nearby glanced at each other nervously, stepping closer as if ready to intervene. Drew took half a step forward, his shoulders squared, his voice nearly a roar now. âKeep pushinâ me, and youâll find out firsthand what happens when respect is forced!â
âBring it on, Braveheart!â she shot back, shoving him again. âIâll end you faster than your sword entrance does!â
That was when two crew members finally rushed in, separating the two before Y/N actually swung on him. She strained against their hold, still shouting over their shoulders. âYou think this is over? Youâve just started something youâre not man enough to finish!â
Drewâs glare stayed locked on her as the men kept them apart. He gave a low, dangerous chuckle, shaking his head. âWeâll see about that, lass. Weâll see.â
The crowd in the arena was eating it up, the tension palpable, the feud now lit on fire.
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     Y/N was still muttering under her breath as she stalked down the hallway, every step echoing like the crack of a whip. When she reached Paul Levesqueâs office door, she didnât bother knocking, just shoved it open.
Her eyes immediately narrowed when she saw Drew McIntyre sitting there, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed like he owned the place. âOh, hell no,â Y/N said, already turning on her heel. âNot doing this, not sitting in the same room as him.â
âSit down,â Paul said firmly, holding up a hand before she could storm out. The authority in his voice froze her in place. âNow.â
Y/N clenched her jaw, exhaled sharply through her nose, then stomped over and dropped into the chair beside Drew like the seat had personally offended her. She crossed her arms tightly, refusing to look his way. Drew smirked slightly, his thick accent dripping with mockery. âAw, whatâs the matter? Donât like sharinâ the spotlight with the big bad Scotsman?â
Her head snapped toward him. âSpotlight? Please. If anything, Iâve been carrying your overgrown ass in relevance these past two weeks.â
Paul raised a brow, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. âYou two done? Or should I give you a cage to settle this in before we get to business?â
Neither of them answered, just glared at each other. Paul sighed, shaking his head. âLook. Normally, I donât let personal drama spill outside of kayfabe. If this was any other situation, Iâd shut it down before it got out of hand.â He paused, locking eyes with both of them. âBut the truth is, the fans are eating this up. Your tension, your animosity, the way you canât even breathe the same air without sparks flyingâ itâs money. And weâd be idiots not to capitalize on it.â
Drew snorted. âSo what, you want us to claw each otherâs eyes out on TV until one of us snaps? Sounds brilliant.â
Y/N leaned forward, eyes blazing. âIâd be more than happy to snap if it meant shutting you up.â
Paul raised his hand again, cutting her off. âEnough. Hereâs the dealâ youâve both got the Euro tour coming up. A lot of press, a lot of eyes on the company. And thanks to this little feud of yours, you two are hotter right now than half the damn roster. So congratulations, youâre going to be handling those events together. As partners.â
The silence was deafening for a beat, then Y/N shot up out of her chair. âYouâve got to be kidding me.â
Drewâs head jerked toward Paul, his face tightening. âNo chance. Absolutely not. Put me with literally anyone else.â
Paulâs smirk returned, calm but unyielding. âYou think Iâm asking? This isnât optional. Youâre both adults, youâre both professionals, and if you want to keep cashing those paychecks, youâll figure out how to coexist. At least for the next few weeks.â
Y/Nâs hands were balled into fists at her side. âYouâre basically putting me on babysitter duty for the Scottish psychopath over here.â
Drewâs eyes narrowed. âWatch your mouth, lass, or Iâll give you a real reason to be scared of me.â
âOh, trust me,â Y/N fired back instantly, âIâve seen scarier in my bathroom mirror first thing in the morning.â
Paul chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. âYou twoâŠâ He leaned forward, voice sharpening. âHereâs the bottom line: you either make this work, or you can kiss your contracts goodbye. Your call.â
The room fell into a thick, tense silence. Finally, Drew stood up, glaring down at Y/N. âFine. Iâll play along. But if she gets in my way, donât blame me when I stop beinâ polite.â
Y/N stood as well, stepping chest-to-chest with him, refusing to back down. âTry me, big man. I dare you.â
Paulâs voice cut through like steel. âGood. Glad weâre clear. Now go get yourselves prepared for the next few weeks before I change my mind.â
The two of them turned sharply toward the door, still glaring daggers at each other as they left, the tension thick enough to choke on.
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     The flight was long-haul, the kind that stretched hours into eternity, and of courseâ of courseâ theyâd been seated right next to each other. Y/N dropped into her aisle seat with a sharp sigh, already bracing herself when Drew lowered himself into the seat beside her, his massive frame practically swallowing the row. His elbow immediately claimed the shared armrest like it was his birthright.
âUnbelievable,â Y/N muttered, shooting him a glare. âDo you take up this much space on purpose, or is it just a talent you were born with?â
Drew turned his head, lips twitching into that insufferable smirk. âIâm six-five, lass. I take up space by existing. Not my fault yeâve got arms like twigs.â
Her jaw dropped. âExcuse me?â
He leaned in just enough for her to feel the warmth of him, his voice a low murmur that sent unwanted goosebumps along her arms. âNothinâ wrong with twigs. They bend easy.â
She scoffed, crossing her arms. âKeep talking like that and youâll find out how easy they snap, too.â
That earned a chuckle from him, low and rumbling, and damn if it didnât curl somewhere deep in her stomach. She hated that sound. She hated that she liked that sound. He didnât move his arm from the armrest when she shifted in her seat, forcing her to press closer than she wanted. His scent, clean, sharp, a little musky, hit her. Then the warmth radiating from his body. Then the fact that, annoyingly, the muscles in his forearm looked even more defined this close. She hated herself for noticing, and hated him more for making it impossible not to.
âYou always this grumpy, or is it just me that brings it out of you?â Drew asked casually, like he hadnât just made her pulse tick faster.
âItâs definitely you,â she shot back, buckling her seatbelt. âAnd youâre not as charming as you think.â
âCharming?â His eyebrows lifted, smug. âDidnât realize that was on the table. Sounds like youâve been thinkinâ about me more than youâd like.â
Her head snapped toward him, eyes flashing. âDonât flatter yourself, Braveheart. Just because youâve got the size advantage doesnât mean youâre carrying your weight in the ring. Half the time, your opponentâs making you look good.â
That jab landed, she could see it in the way his jaw tightened. But then his gaze flicked to her, slow and heavy, and lingered a second too long on her mouth before he dragged it back up. His lips curved.
âFunny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.â
She almost choked. âExcuse me?â
âPlenty of flash, sure. Youâre quick, youâre clever. But when it comes to grit?â His voice dropped, the rumble curling around her in the confined space. âYouâve barely been tested. One rough night, and I wonder if youâd crack.â
Her breath hitched, but she leaned closer, fire in her eyes. âTry me. Iâll last longer in this business than you ever will.â
For a moment, they just stared, too close, too tense, and too aware of how much heat buzzed between them. She hated the way her stomach flipped at the way he looked at her, like she was a fight he was eager to lose himself in.
âPerfect,â Y/N said sweetly, tearing her glare from Drew.
âCouldnât be better,â Drew echoed, voice dripping with something that sounded too much like challenge.
When the attendant left, Y/N crossed her arms and muttered, âNightmare.â
âDonât act like youâre not enjoyinâ it,â Drew replied, smirk tugging at his mouth.
She refused to answer, but her cheeks burned hotter than she wanted them to.
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     The convention hall buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the snapping of camera flashes. A long row of autograph tables stretched across the floor, banners hanging above each one. Drew McIntyreâs was crowded, fans in kilts and replica Claymores, some shouting his name like they were at ringside. Just a few feet away, Y/Nâs line was just as long, people holding signs, t-shirts, and Funko Pops, eager for her autograph.
It was easy enough to stay in character. The feud was hot right now, and every fan seemed desperate to see it play out live, even here.
âDrew, man, youâve got to admit, Y/Nâs been giving you hell lately!â one fan shouted as he slid a glossy photo across the table.
Drew gave a dark laugh, signing the photo with a flourish before glancing over at Y/N. âAye, lad, sheâs been a thorn in my side, Iâll give ye that. But donât confuse persistence for power. Sheâs loud, not lethal.â
From her table, Y/N looked up, pen paused mid-signature. âYou sure about that, Braveheart?â she shot back, smirking at the crowdâs laughter. âBecause last I checked, Iâm the one still standing every time we go toe to toe.â
Fans howled with approval, loving the jabs. âKeep dreaminâ, lass,â Drew muttered, though he kept smiling at the kid in front of him. âNightmares donât last forever.â
It went on like that for a while, autographs, banter, trading insults like they were passing a ball back and forth. No one noticed how much of it wasnât just for show.
The event rolled on like that until she noticed a small commotion near Drewâs line. A boy, maybe ten years old, walked up with his parent by his side. His little frame swam in an oversized Drew McIntyre t-shirt, the kilt from a costume store wrapped proudly around his waist. His mom smiled nervously as he tugged her hand and practically bounced toward Drew. The volunteer at the front whispered something in Drewâs earâMake-A-Wish. Y/N froze, realizing instantly.
Drewâs expression softened in an instant. His whole presence shifted from performer to protector. âWell look at ye,â Drew said warmly, crouching slightly so he wasnât towering so high above the boy. âDressed better than I am. Bet yeâve been practicinâ the claymore too, aye?â
The boy beamed. âYouâre so big and strong! Do you ever get scared?â
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. The boyâs voice was small, but it carried enough weight to cut through the buzz of the event.
Drew paused. His eyes flicked briefly toward Y/N, maybe instinct, maybe habit, but when he looked back at the boy, his face was open, unguarded. âAye, lad,â he said, lowering his voice to a soft burr. âI get scared all the time. Iâve spent years tryinâ to prove myself, tryinâ to earn respect. It wasnât always easy, and it wasnât always fun. But yâknow what I learned? Beinâ strong isnât about how big yer arms are or how high ye can lift someone over yer head.â He reached out, steadying the boyâs shoulder gently. âItâs about gettinâ back up when life knocks ye down. And youâŠâ He smiled, eyes crinkling. ââŠyouâre stronger than I could ever be.â
The boyâs mom wiped her eyes quietly as the boy threw his arms around Drew. The big Scot hugged him back carefully, tenderly, as though he were made of glass. When the boy finally pulled back, his eyes went wide as he looked over Drewâs shoulder toward Y/N. âC-can she be in the picture too?â he asked, shy but hopeful. âSheâs funny. And really tough.â
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. âMe?â
The boy nodded earnestly. She smiled, an unguarded, real smile, and stood, crossing over. âOf course, kiddo. Scoot over, Iâll be right here.â She crouched beside him, throwing up a playful mock-fighting pose. The boy mimicked her, sword raised proudly, while Drew crouched down on the other side with his own fierce scowl.
His mother snapped the picture, the boy glowing between them. When the kid finally skipped off with his mom, Y/N glanced at Drew. For a moment, the walls theyâd built cracked, the look in his eyes wasnât mocking, and hers wasnât combative. It was⊠something else. Something that neither of them liked to acknowledge.
Drew broke it first, a smirk tugging at his mouth. âDidnât think ye had it in you, sweetheart. Almost looked human there for a second.â
Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. âOh, please. Donât get all sentimental just because you found your mini-me. The only reason that pictureâs worth anything is because I was in it.â
He chuckled under his breath. âYou keep tellinâ yourself that, lass.â
She crossed her arms, leaning closer with a sharp smile. âI will. Because unlike you, I donât need a claymore or a funny accent to stay relevant.â
Fans within earshot laughed, eating it up. Neither of them broke character, but under the noise and the smiles, that lingering softness from a moment ago stuck like a thorn neither could quite pull out.
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     The backstage monitor had already been buzzing with chatter. A mixed tag: Drew McIntyre and Y/N versus Montez Ford and Bianca Belair. The crowd was alive before they even stepped through the curtain, energy pulsing in a way that promised either disaster or magic.
Drew adjusted his wrist tape as they waited by the gorilla position, glancing down at Y/N with that same mixture of disdain and something else heâd never admit out loud. She was stretching, rolling her shoulders, utterly focusedâexcept for the smirk she caught him with when she noticed him watching.
âTry not to cost me this one, big man,â she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear over Montezâs entrance music blaring through the curtain.
Drew arched a brow, his Scottish burr laced with dry humor. âFunny, I was about to say the same to you. Donât worry, lass, Iâll carry the weight.â
She scoffed. âPlease. Youâd be on your back within three minutes without me.â
The music hit, their names announced, and the two stepped through the curtainâside by side but not touching, the reluctant team that nobody thought would gel. The crowd roared regardless, sensing the tension, the possibility.
Drew started things off with Montez. He towered over him, locking up with sheer power, forcing Montez into the corner with ease. The crowd erupted with Drewâs dominanceâuntil Montez ducked low, used his speed, and came flying off the ropes with a slick dropkick that staggered the Scotsman.
Y/N slapped Drewâs back, tagging herself in before he could react. âStep aside, Braveheart,â she taunted, slipping between the ropes.
Drew shot her a glare, muttering, âPatience clearly isnât your strong suit.â
She ignored him, eyes locked on Bianca as the EST hopped into the ring, ready. The two women went at it fastâchain wrestling to start, counters and reversals, until Bianca launched Y/N into the ropes. Y/N ducked a clothesline, springboarded off the middle rope, and hit a flying back elbow that popped the crowd. She smirked as she glanced back at Drew, mouthing: See? Carried.
Bianca rallied, forcing Y/N into the corner, and Montez sneaked a tag, stepping back in. Before Y/N could react, Drew smacked her shoulder hard enough to tag himself in.
âGet out,â he ordered, stepping past her.
Her jaw dropped. âYou just tagged me out?!â
âCorrect. Youâre welcome.â
The crowd laughed at their bickering, eating it up.
Things shifted when Montezâs athleticism caught Drew off guard. A running enziguri, then a frog splash that had the crowd convinced the match was overâ1âŠ2âŠDrew just barely kicked out.
Drew was still down, clutching his ribs, when Y/N suddenly hopped the ropes, breaking the pin. The referee scolded her, but she didnât care.
She crouched down beside Drew, glaring at him. âGet up. Donât you dare make me carry your ass alone.â
He blinked at her, stunned, not at the words, but at the fire in her eyes. For a second, she looked like she actually cared.
She yanked him up by the wrist before he could process it, then spun and drilled Montez with a brutal snap DDT. The arena went wild.
Drew, still catching his breath, stared at her. She just shot him a sharp smirk. âYouâre welcome.â
Bianca stormed the ring to even the odds, charging straight at Y/N. But Y/N ducked, sent Bianca flying over the ropes, and turned right back to Drew.
âTag me!â she barked, slapping his chest hard enough to echo.
Drewâs lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk. âBossy.â But he obliged, stepping back to let her fly.
Y/N vaulted off the ropes, taking Montez down with a flying crossbody. The two traded near-falls, but soon Drew reached out a massive hand. Y/N glanced at itâhesitated just a beat too longâthen slapped it.
From there, something clicked.
Drew scooped Montez up for a suplex, but instead of dropping him, he held him vertical. Y/N ran in, leapt, and dropkicked Montezâs chest mid-air, sending him crashing down harder than ever.
The crowd roared. Moments later, Y/N whipped Montez toward Drew, and Drew blasted him with a Claymore that nearly took his head off. Bianca tried to rush back in, but Y/N met her halfway, cutting her off with a wicked superkick that sent her tumbling through the ropes again.
The crowd was on fire, chants breaking out from every direction. Drew covered Montez, Y/N standing guard. 1âŠ2âŠ3. The bell rang.
The place erupted. Their music hit, echoing through the arena. Drew pushed to his feet, sweat dripping, chest heaving. He turned to find Y/N already standing in the middle of the ring, hand outstretched, not in insult, not in mockery, but as if daring him.
For once, he didnât overthink it. He smirked, took her hand, and together they raised each otherâs arms high in victory.
The crowd popped so loud it shook the rafters. And for the briefest of moments, amidst the cheers, the lights, the heat of the win, they both felt it. Not hatred. Not rivalry. Something else.
They dropped each otherâs hands quickly after. Neither spoke. But the smirk they shared said enough.
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     The adrenaline from the match still hummed in the air as Y/N followed Drew backstage. Sweat dripped down her temple, and her chest heaved from the final sequence theyâd just pulled off. The crew parted around them, some nodding, others clapping them on the back. A few still looked shocked that the two of them had managed to function as a team at all.
Drew dragged a hand through his damp hair and let out a low chuckle, still catching his breath.
âNever thought Iâd say this,â he said, glancing sideways at her, âbut we actually pulled it off.â
Y/N smirked, tugging at the tape around her wrist. âDonât sound too surprised. I am good at this, you know.â
He gave her a look, that dry, Scottish patience only he could pull off. âOh aye, youâre good. Doesnât mean I expected you to save my arse out there.â
She cocked a brow. âWhat, you think Iâd just let Montez pin you? Please. I couldnât ruin my record. Iâve got bigger things to worry aboutâ like Tiffanyâs title.â
That earned her a short laugh, his shoulders shaking. âSo it wasnât about me at all, then?â
âNot even a little,â she shot back with a grin. âYou were just⊠collateral damage I had to drag along with me.â
Drew leaned against a crate, towering as he tilted his head at her. âFunny, because from where I was lying, it looked an awful lot like you cared.â
She scoffed, refusing to let the flicker of warmth in his tone land. âDonât flatter yourself, big guy. I just donât like losing. Especially not to Montez and Bianca. Do you know how long Iâd have to hear about it from them?â
His mouth curved, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. âFair enough. Still, Iâll admit⊠you surprised me. Didnât think you had teamwork in you.â
âAnd yet,â she said, tugging at the cap of a water bottle before tossing it to him, âwe won.â
He caught it easily, twisting the cap open. He took a long drink, then extended another bottle toward her. Their fingers brushed as she grabbed it, barely a touch, a fleeting graze, but it lingered in the air longer than it should have. Neither of them moved to pull away too quickly.
Y/N cleared her throat first, breaking the moment with a quick smirk. âCareful, Galloway. Keep talking like that, and people will think you actually like teaming with me.â
Drewâs eyes narrowed, though the amusement was clear beneath the weight of his stare. âDonât push your luck, lass. Tonight was a one-off.â
She tilted her bottle toward him in mock salute, her grin tugging wider. âSure it was.â
And for the first time since theyâd been thrown together, the silence that followed wasnât sharp or hostile. It was⊠strangely easy.
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     The crowdâs roar still echoed in Y/Nâs ears as she pushed through the curtain, adrenaline humming in her veins. Sheâd just put Nia Jax down in the middle of the ring, clean, decisive, and in style. Sweat clung to her temples, her chest still rising and falling as Cathy Kelley appeared with a cameraman in tow.
âY/N!â Cathyâs smile was bright, microphone raised. âCongratulations on your victory tonight. Beating someone as dominant as Nia is a huge statement for your main roster run. How are you feeling right now?â
Y/N dragged a wrist across her forehead, grinning like she owned the place. âHow am I feeling? Like I just reminded the entire womenâs division that Iâm not here to fill space. Iâm here to take it over. Nia was step one.â
Cathy nodded, clearly impressed. âItâs no secret the fans are buzzing about you. Your popularityâs skyrocketed since your debut, and a lot of people say that being paired in segments with Drew McIntyre helped boost that momentumââ
The smirk on Y/Nâs face twisted sharp, cutting. âWith all due respect, Cathy, my momentum comes from me. Not from standing next to some guy who swings a sword and broods into the camera. I didnât need Drew to beat Nia. I donât need Drew to make a name for myself. And I sure as hell donât need him to validate what I can do in this ring.â
The words hung in the air like a slap. Cathy blinked, eyebrows arching at the pointed remark, while the crew nearby went silent, listening. That silence broke with the sound of heavy boots. Drew McIntyre stepped into frame, towering over Y/N, his eyes glinting under the harsh backstage lights. Heâd clearly been watching from a monitor, and he didnât look amused.
âYouâve got a sharp tongue, lass,â Drew said evenly, voice edged with steel. âBut youâre forgetting something. The reason folk are talking about you at all is because of the company youâve kept. A little gratitude might not kill you.â
Y/N tilted her head, refusing to back down. âGratitude? For what, Drew? For you showing up and pretending like I need saving? I just proved I donât. Iâm climbing this ladder with or without you, and if that bruises your egoâ well, that sounds like a you problem.â
His jaw flexed, shoulders squaring as he stepped closer, the air between them suddenly suffocating. âCareful now. You might think youâre above learning respect, but the veterans you mock? Theyâll chew you up and spit you out.â
Y/Nâs smile only widened, taunting, dangerous. âGuess Iâll just have to chew harder, then.â
The two were nearly nose-to-nose now, Cathy frozen between them, eyes wide as if she wasnât sure whether to cut the camera or keep rolling. Drewâs gaze drilled into hers, chest rising with slow, simmering breaths. âYouâre going to regret underestimating me.â
âAnd youâre going to regret ever thinking I needed you.â Y/Nâs voice was calm, but the venom in it cut like glass.
Cathy hurriedly tried to close the segment, her nervous voice barely covering the tension sparking between them. Crew members shifted, ready to step in if things escalated. But even when a small step pulled them apart, their eyes stayed locked â both furious, both stubborn, both too aware of the pulse hammering in their chests.
Neither of them said it, but they both felt it: this wasnât just rivalry anymore.
This was something dangerous.
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     The hotel room was thick with silence. Y/N sat on the bed, massaging her thigh and trying not to wince, though every movement sent pain rippling through her legs. She hated showing weakness, especially here, with him.
Drew leaned against the desk, scrolling through his phone like he couldnât care less. But his eyes flicked up every few seconds, catching the way she shifted, the way she bit back a hiss.
âYouâre makinâ it worse,â he said finally, voice low and gravelly.
Y/Nâs head whipped toward him. âI didnât ask for a medical opinion.â
âYou didnât have to. Itâs obvious.â He set the phone down, his arms crossing over his chest. âYouâre stubborn enough to work yourself into a wheelchair, and for what? To prove a point no one asked you to?â
Her mouth fell open, incredulous. âA point? That was a match against Piper freakinâ Niven. If I didnât give it everything, she wouldâve steamrolled me.â
He shrugged, maddeningly calm. âSometimes living to fight another day is the smarter choice.â
âOh, right, because youâre so full of wisdom.â Her voice sharpened, eyes blazing. âTell me, Drew, do you hand out advice because you actually care, or because it makes you feel better to remind everyone youâve been here longer?â
His brows lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching. âCareful.â
âWhy?â she shot back. âHit too close to home? You donât like it when someone calls you out for being old and obnoxious?â
His nostrils flared, his accent deepening with his rising temper. âObnoxious? Lass, Iâve bled in more rings than youâve had birthdays. You think youâre the first brash young thing to come in screaminâ about changing the business? Youâll burn yourself out before you even begin.â
âBetter to burn out than fade away!â she snapped. âAt least Iâm fighting. At least Iâm making people notice me. You think Iâve got ten years to find myself like you did? I donât. I either prove I belong now, or Iâm gone.â
Drew stepped closer, towering over her now. âYou think respectâs earned by breakinâ yourself in half every night? You think I wanted to start over in bingo halls with fifty people watchinâ? No, but I did, because I had to earn back every ounce of respect I lost. Youâre playinâ with fire, and one day youâll get burned.â
âAnd whatââ she bit out, rising to her feet despite the painâ âyouâll be there to say âI told you soâ?â
Her knee buckled suddenly, pain lancing through her leg. She staggered forward with a gasp. Before she could hit the floor, his arms wrapped around her, strong and steady. The sudden closeness made her breath catch, the fury in her chest colliding with something far more dangerous.
âBloody hell,â he muttered, his voice rougher now, less angry, more⊠worried. âYou tryinâ to kill yourself out there?â
âGet off me,â she snapped, though her hands clutched at his arms, grounding herself.
He didnât let go, easing her back onto the bed with surprising gentleness. His big hands stayed firm on her arms, anchoring her. âYou think this is strength? Pushinâ until your legs give out? All I see is someone too proud to admit sheâs hurtinâ.â
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes locked with his. âAnd all I see is someone pretending he doesnât care when he clearly does.â
That stopped him. His jaw tightened, eyes flickering like sheâd struck a nerve. He didnât move, still close enough that his breath brushed her cheek. âOf course I care,â he said finally, his voice low, almost reluctant. âYouâre my partner, whether I wanted it or not. You think I enjoy watchinâ you throw yourself to the wolves? You think I donât respect the fire youâve got? But fire uncheckedâŠâ His hand shifted to her injured leg, holding it carefully. ââŠburns everything in its path.â
She swallowed hard, heart racing. The way he said it, the way his hand lingered just enough to steady her, it was more intimate than anything theyâd ever let slip between them.
âYouâre infuriating,â she whispered.
His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. âAye. And yet youâre still sittinâ here, lettinâ me patch you up.â
Her mouth curved into something between a glare and a smile. âDonât flatter yourself. I just donât want to hobble into SmackDown like Bambi on ice.â
âWhatever you say, lass,â he said, grabbing the first-aid kit. But when he wrapped her leg, his touch was impossibly careful.
They talked as he worked, snapping at first, then easing into quieter truths. Drew admitted how long it had taken him to shake off the shame of losing everything once. Y/N confessed how badly the pressure was crushing her, how much she needed to prove she wasnât just a flash in the pan.
By the time he tied off the bandage, the anger had burned down into something heavier, quieter. Their eyes met again, lingering too long. The tension was different now, softer but sharper all at once. Drew leaned just slightly closer, like the weight between them pulled him in. Her breath caught, lips parting without thought.
For a second, it felt inevitable. But then he blinked, jaw clenching, and pulled back abruptly. âYou should rest,â he muttered. But the heat in his eyes betrayed the restraint in his voice. And for the first time, silence between them didnât feel like avoidance. It felt like possibility.
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     The crowd was still buzzing from the electric finish as Y/N and Drew pushed through the curtain backstage. Both were flushed with adrenaline, sweat glistening under the harsh arena lights. Crew members clapped shoulders and shouted praise as they passed.
âBloody hell, that spot with the double suplexâ genius,â one producer grinned, shaking his head. âCrowd ate it up.â
âAnd the synchronized kip-up? Chefâs kiss,â another added.
Drew just smirked, shrugging like it had all been easy. âAye, light work.â
Y/N barked out a laugh, tugging at the tape on her wrists. âLight work? You were huffing like a steam engine two minutes in.â
His head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing. âExcuse me? Lass, I carried Bo halfway across that ring like he weighed nothinâ. Youâre welcome for settinâ you up with the easiest hot tag of your life.â
Her jaw dropped, mock-offended. âEasy? Please. Who saved your Scottish ass when Nikki was about to put you in the Sister Abigail?â
He tilted his head, lips curving in that infuriating smirk. âSaved me? You just wanted the spotlight back. Admit it.â
Y/N stepped closer, chin tilted defiantly. âIf I wanted the spotlight, Drew, I wouldnât have let you steal half my thunder out there.â
His low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and before she could move past him, he nudged her shoulder with his own, playfully rough. âThunder, huh? More like a drizzle.â
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. âDid you just call me drizzle?â
He leaned down, deliberately lowering his voice so only she could hear. âAye. Cute drizzle.â
Her cheeks heated, and she shoved at his arm with a scoff, though her lips betrayed her by twitching into a grin. âYouâre ridiculous.â
He straightened, smirk firmly in place. âAnd yet, youâre smilinâ.â
Before she could come up with a comeback, he gave her a final nudge. âIâm headinâ to catering before you decide to pick another fight. Donât go breakinâ your legs again while Iâm gone.â
She rolled her eyes, waving him off. âGo eat your chicken breast and pretend it has seasoning, old man.â
He chuckled as he walked off, tossing over his shoulder, âBetter than whatever nonsense you eat.â
The moment he disappeared around the corner, a voice piped up behind her. âWell, well, well. Look whoâs suddenly besties with Scotlandâs finest.â
Y/N turned to see Jessica leaning against a crate, arms crossed and a mischievous smirk plastered on her face.
âDonât start,â Y/N warned, tugging at the towel draped over her neck.
Tiffanyâs brows shot up. âWhat? Iâm just noticing things. Like how you were smiling at him. And how he was definitely checking you out when you flipped Nikki into that headlock takeover.â
Y/Nâs mouth opened, then closed, flustered. âHe was not.â
Tiffany tilted her head, clearly amused. âUh, yeah, he was. Girl, everyone could see it. You two had, like, a whole moment out there.â
Y/N scoffed, defensive. âItâs called chemistry. In the ring. You know, for the crowd.â
âMm-hmm.â Tiffany drew out the sound, clearly not buying it. âChemistry, sure. Totally nothing to do with the way you two were practically flirting when you came back here.â
âI was not flirting!â Y/N snapped, maybe a little too quickly.
Jessica just smirked, unbothered. âWhatever you say. But if you start showing up to the gym with a tartan scarf, Iâm calling you out.â
Y/N groaned, covering her face with her towel. âI hate you.â
âLove you too,â Tiffany sang, sauntering off, leaving Y/N standing there, cheeks warm, replaying Drewâs stupid smirk in her head.
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     The crowd was still electric after Drewâs match with Damian Priest. Sweat soaked through his hair, his chest heaving as he raised his arm in victory. He snatched the mic, pacing the ring with that usual fire in his eyes.
âYou see that? Thatâs what it means to fight like a warrior!â Drew roared, his accent thick, his voice booming. âThatâs what it means to stand toe to toe with the very best and come out on top. Damian Priest is no easy man to beat, but Iââ
The chant cut him off.
âY/N! Y/N! Y/N!â
He froze, lips pressing into a thin line. The chant rolled louder, drowning out his words, feeding off itself. Drewâs nostrils flared. He gripped the mic tighter, pacing harder. âYouâve got to be bloody kidding me,â he muttered into the mic, drawing boos and cheers. âI give you a war, I give you a win, and instead of chantinâ for meâ you chant for her?â
The crowd doubled down. âY/N! Y/N!â
Drewâs voice sharpened, the bitterness seeping out. âShe didnât fight this match. She didnât spill her blood tonight. I did. But no, youâd rather sing for the rookieâ because sheâs shiny, sheâs new, sheâs got a couple of flashy moments under her belt.â
Boos. Gasps. A few cheers from the diehards.
âYou all need to hear this. Sheâs not me. Sheâs not tested. Sheâs not proven. Sheâs just a rookie ridinâ hype, and the dayâs cominâ when all that noise fades away. But me?â He jabbed a finger at his chest. âIâll still be here. Iâll still be the one carryinâ this brand while you all chase your next favorite.â
The boos were deafening now, but Drew just hurled the mic down and stormed out, jaw locked, eyes dark.Â
Backstage was a blur of noise, but the second Drew walked through the curtain, the tension was different.
Y/N was waiting. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest, jaw set, but her eyes, there was something in them he hadnât seen before. Not fire. Not defiance. Something heavier.
âWhat the hell was that?â Her voice was sharp, but thin, like it was stretched too far.
Drew frowned, still riding the high of the promo. âItâs called doinâ business, lass. Workinâ the crowd. You know that.âÂ
Her laugh was bitter, brittle. âDonât. Donât stand there and tell me that wasnât personal.â
He straightened, his own temper prickling. âYou think I care enough to make it personal? I said what needed to be said. Youâre the one whoâs been struttinâ around like you built this place after five minutes on the main roster.â
Her arms dropped to her sides, hands curling into fists. âYou donât respect me.â
âRespect is earned,â he shot back. âNot handed out like free merch at the door.â
Her breath hitched, barely audible, but he heard it. And when she spoke again, her voice cracked. âI thought⊠I thought maybe you did. After everything. Even just a little.â
Something twisted in his gut. The usual fire in her was dimmed, replaced by something raw, and it knocked the wind out of him.
âLassââ he started, but she cut him off, her chin trembling.
âYou humiliated me out there.â Her eyes shone, though she blinked hard, fighting it back. âYou made it sound like I donât belong. Like I havenât bled and trained and clawed my way here. You made me sound like a joke. On live TV.â
Drewâs chest tightened, his words catching before they left his throat. He hadnât expected this, her shoulders tight, her voice breaking, her face trying and failing to hold itself together.
For the first time, she wasnât spitting fire at him. She was breaking. And heâd done it. âY/NâŠâ His voice softened despite himself, his accent thick with something almost like regret. âThat wasnâtââ
âNo.â She shook her head, jaw set even as her eyes brimmed. âDonât. I canât trust you. Not if youâre willing to cut me down just to make yourself feel taller.â
Before he could move, before he could find the right words, she turned and stormed down the hallway, shoulders stiff, wiping at her face.
Drew stayed rooted to the spot, his chest tight, replaying the crack in her voice.
Heâd fought wars in this business. Heâd broken bodies, cut promos that gutted people. But this? The look in her eyes as she walked away? This one felt different. And for the first time, Drew McIntyre wasnât sure if he liked what heâd just done.
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     The arena was buzzing before the bell even rang. Anticipation hung in the air like static, every fan on their feet for what could be the match that defined Y/Nâs career. Jade Cargill stood across the ring, her sculpted frame gleaming under the bright lights, every movement radiating power and dominance. Y/N rolled her shoulders back, adjusting her wrist tape with steady hands, but her jaw was tight, eyes never leaving Jade. Tonight was hers to win or lose.
Backstage, Drew McIntyre had been pacing for twenty minutes, running a hand through his hair until it nearly stuck up on end. He knew he didnât belong out there. Not tonight. Not after what heâd said.
But the guilt ate at him. The look on her face after his promo, the cracked voice, the way sheâd stormed off like heâd just ripped something vital out of her, it had been gnawing at him every night since. Heâd replayed it over and over, hearing himself sneer the words, âjust a rookie ridinâ hype,â and hating himself more each time.
He didnât want to interfere again, didnât want to take anything away from her. But he also couldnât sit in the back and do nothing. Not when she had the biggest fight of her career standing right in front of her.
So when the time came, he made his decision. The lights shifted. A ripple ran through the crowd. Then his music hit. The audience erupted instantly, the kind of roar that rattled the rafters. Drew appeared at the top of the ramp, not in gear, not storming toward the ring with sword in hand. Just jeans and a black shirt, arms folded across his chest. No mic. No theatrics. Just him. Watching.
A deliberate choice. He wasnât here to steal spotlight. He wasnât here to overshadow. He was here to show her the one thing he hadnât before: respect.
Y/Nâs head snapped toward the entrance. Her stomach twisted sharply the moment she saw him. Of course heâd be here. Of course heâd pick tonight, the most important night of her career so far.
Her lips pressed into a hard line. She turned back to Jade, jaw clenched, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
The bell rang.
Jade came out swinging, scooping Y/N up and slamming her down hard enough to shake the mat. Then another. Then a suplex, rattling through Y/Nâs sore legs, pushing her endurance to its limits. The crowd groaned with each blow.
Still, Y/N kept getting up.
And every time she rose, Drewâs eyes followed. He gave a small nod from the ramp, silent approval that only sharpened the knife twisting in Y/Nâs chest. She didnât need him there. She didnât want him there. But she couldnât ignore the way his presence set the arena buzzing, how his nods fueled the crowd into chants of her name.
The match built to its fever pitch. Jade hooked Y/N up for Jaded, the finisher that had ended so many others before her. But mid-air, Y/N twisted, flipping into a desperate hurricanrana that sent Jade crashing to the mat. The crowd exploded.
Y/N hit the ropes, wild energy driving her. She launched with a sharp, clean kick, then dropped her finisher with precision born of pure grit.
One. Two. Three.
The refereeâs hand slapped the mat.
The noise was deafening. Y/N rose slowly, clutching her ribs, sweat running down her face as the referee lifted her arm in victory. The crowd screamed her name, chanting it in waves that shook the building.
And yet her eyes were pulled, unbidden, up the ramp. Drew was clapping. Slow. Deliberate. His expression unreadable, somewhere between pride and regret.
Her heart ached. She wanted to let herself feel it, to soak in the validation. To believe the respect was real. But she couldnât.
Instead, she slid out of the ring, her boots hitting the floor hard as she stormed up the ramp. She brushed past him without a single glance, disappearing backstage before the crowd could even process the moment.
Drewâs applause faltered, hands lowering slowly. He exhaled hard, jaw tightening as guilt burned through his chest. He deserved that. Every bit of it. But he wasnât going to stop trying. Not until she believed him.
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     The cameras were rolling, the Impaulsive set buzzing with energy as Logan Paul leaned across the table, grinning ear to ear. âLadies and gentlemen, sitting across from me right now is a man who needs no introduction, The Scottish Warrior, DrewMcIntyre.â
The crowd off-camera popped, and Drew gave a small smirk, nodding toward Logan. âCheers. Happy to be here.â
âBig fella, youâve done it all. Royal Rumble winner, multiple-time world champ, carried WWE through the pandemic era⊠I mean, thatâs legendary shit.â Logan slapped the table for emphasis. âHow does it feel knowing youâre one of the pillars of this company?â
Drew leaned back in his chair, folding his massive arms. His voice carried that trademark Scottish grit. âIt feels like a lot of pressure, truth be told. But pressureâs good. Means the company trusts ye, the fans believe in ye. I wouldnât trade it for anythinâ.â
Logan nodded, impressed. âAlright, so what about the current landscape? Lot of people say WWEâs in a renaissance. New stars rising, vets holding it down. Where do you see yourself fitting in right now?â
âRight where Iâve always been,â Drew replied evenly. âAt the top of the mountain, fighting off anyone tryinâ to take my spot.â He smirked, the competitive edge in his eyes clear. âThat partâs never changed.â
Logan chuckled. âFair enough. Speaking of fighting people off⊠youâve had some wild rivalries lately. Damian Priest, CM Punk, Roman Reignsâ the list is stacked. But I gotta bring this up, man, because the internet is obsessed.â
He leaned in closer, grinning mischievously. âYou and Y/N. People call you the weirdest tag team that shouldnât work, but somehow does. The tension, the banter⊠whatâs the real story there?â
The studio fell just a little quieter.
Drewâs smirk faltered. He shifted in his chair, his jaw tightening for a brief second before something softer flickered across his face. It was so subtle, but enough to make Logan blink in surprise.
âThe real story?â Drew repeated, his accent low, deliberate. He hesitated, then leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. âSheâs⊠one of the most stubborn, hard-headed, fiery people Iâve ever met in this business. And I mean that as a compliment.â
Logan raised a brow, picking up on the change in tone immediately. âCompliment, huh? Thatâs not what it sounded like last week on SmackDown.â
For the first time since the cameras started rolling, Drewâs expression dropped the bravado. He exhaled through his nose, the guilt behind his eyes unmistakable.
âAye,â he admitted. âI said somethinâ in the heat of the moment that I regret. Deeply. Thatâs on me. I let my ego get in the way when it shouldâve been about givinâ credit where itâs due.â He looked directly into the camera now, voice steady. âThe truth is⊠Y/N is one of the fastest rising stars weâve got. She doesnât need me, or anyone else, to validate her. Sheâs earned every bit of what sheâs gettinâ right now. And anyone who doesnât see that?â He gave a faint smirk, but it didnât reach his eyes. âTheyâre blind.â
Logan blinked, taken aback. âDamn. That was⊠respectful. Not what I expected.â
Drew gave a soft chuckle, rubbing his jaw. âShe deserves respect. Always has. And Iâll make sure she gets it, even if itâs not me she wants to hear it from.â
The room was silent for a beat, the weight of his words settling. Even Logan, the king of chaos, seemed momentarily at a loss.
âAlright,â Logan finally said, grinning again but clearly thrown. âThat was⊠not the savage Drew McIntyre I thought I was getting today. But hey, respect where itâs due. Y/Nâs gonna see this, man.â
Drewâs lips quirked faintly. His gaze didnât leave the camera. âGood. Thatâs the point.â
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     Later that week, the backstage corridor buzzed with the usual chaos, crew wheeling production carts, wrestlers heading toward gorilla, agents barking into headsets. Drew walked with his usual measured stride, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, mind already focused on the night ahead.
And then he heard it.
Two lower-card guys, barely blips on the roster, leaned against a crate just ahead. Their voices carried over the noise.
âCrazy how quick hype fades,â one of them snickered. âY/Nâs nothinâ special. Just another pretty face theyâll feed to Tiffany.â
The other barked out a laugh. âYeah, exactly. Fansâll get bored of her real fast. Doesnât matter how much they chant her nameâ she ainât built to last. Sheâs just the flavor of the month.â
Drew froze. His body locked up like a predator catching a scent. Slowly, he set his duffel down on the floor. His fists curled so tight his knuckles cracked. His chest rose and fell, every inhale sharp, every exhale heavier.
He turned. His boots echoed against the concrete as he stalked toward them. âWhat,â Drew said, voice low, guttural, dangerous, âdid you just say?â
The two men straightened, startled. One tried to laugh it off. âJustâjust talkinâ, man. Donât get allââ
Before he could finish, Drew exploded forward. His hand shot out, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him back against the wall so hard the crates rattled. A forearm pressed into his throat, cutting his words to a strangled cough.
âYou think youâre funny?â Drew snarled, his Scottish brogue thick with rage. âYou think you can stand here, run your mouths about her, like she hasnât bled for what sheâs got?â His face was inches from the manâs, eyes blazing.
The second wrestler backed up, hands raised. âWhoa, Drew, chillââ
Drewâs glare snapped to him, lethal. âDonât you tell me to chill.â His voice thundered down the hallway, drawing eyes. âSheâs fought harder than either of youâve ever fought in your worthless careers. Sheâs earned every damn chant she gets! Sheâs got more heart in her pinky than youâve got in your entire bodies!â
The man against the wall choked, squirming, his face red as Drewâs forearm pressed harder. Drewâs free hand curled into a fist, veins standing out along his forearm. He was seconds away from swinging, from unleashing every ounce of rage pounding in his chest.
And deep down, he knewâ it wasnât just about their words. It was about him. About the fact that once upon a time, he had stood in front of thousands and said things not too different. Heâd dragged her down when he shouldâve lifted her up. And hearing her name spit out with that same venom from someone elseâs mouth made him sick.
âDrew! Drew, stop!â
Crew members swarmed in, trying to wedge themselves between him and his target. A road agent grabbed his arm, another tugged at his shoulder. âEnough, man, enough!â
Drew resisted, body trembling with fury, his fist still cocked. He wanted to break this guy in half. He wanted to make sure he never said her name again. It took three people to pull him back, and even then, Drew shoved them off, chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead.
The wrestlers scrambled away like frightened rats, muttering apologies, heads down. They didnât even look back.
Drew stood there, breathing hard, hands shaking with adrenaline. He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply, trying to ground himself. He knew heâd nearly lost control. He knew if heâd landed that punch, it wouldâve been ugly.
But for once, it wasnât about his pride. It wasnât about proving himself. It was about her. About defending her the way he shouldâve all along.
For Y/N, he realized, he was willing to fight every single person in that locker room, from the curtain-jerkers to the main eventers. Heâd burn every bridge, take every fine, throw away every ounce of goodwill.
Because the truth, slamming into him harder than any claymore heâd ever thrown, was that he cared about her, more than heâd ever let himself admit. More than he even wanted to.
And now? He couldnât turn it off.
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     Drew had spent the better part of the day wrestling with himself. He knew heâd crossed a line with his promo on SmackDown, tearing down Y/N in front of thousands of fans. Heâd been proud, frustrated, even competitive, but seeing her crushed afterward? That had shaken something loose inside him.
Heâd gone to extreme lengths to find her tonight, bribed a stagehand, negotiated with security, done whatever he needed just to get her room number. And now he stood outside her door, knuckles hovering, heart hammering.
âY/N?â His voice was careful, quiet, almost vulnerable.
No answer.
He pressed his forehead to the door, eyes closing. âIâm not gonna yell. I just⊠I need to talk to you.â
Inside, her hand hovered over the doorknob. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she opened it just enough for him to see her. Drew froze. Oversized Stone Cold hoodie, black spandex shorts. Hair messy, strands falling around her face. And a large, angry bruise creeping up her leg. She looked soft, unguarded, and impossibly beautiful. âCan I come in?â he asked, voice low, controlled.
She stepped aside without a word. He entered slowly, like he was stepping into enemy territory. She moved to the far side of the room, arms crossed, eyes glued to the carpet. Normally, sheâd be fire, sass, sarcasm, always ready to bite back. Tonight? Nothing. Just cold silence.
Drew sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. âTalk to me. Please. Tell me how youâre feeling.â
Her head snapped up, eyes flashing. âYou donât deserve to know how I feel,â she spat, voice trembling. âAfter everythingâ after tearing me down in front of everyoneâ why the hell would I let you in now?â
He swallowed hard, nodding. âI know,â he admitted, voice rough. âI donât deserve it. But I had to see you. Had to say⊠Iâm sorry. And I need to make it right.â
She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. âMake it right? You think a half-assed apology erases that? You made me feel small, Drew. Like everything Iâve bled for in this business meant nothing. And it was you. Not some rival, not some stranger. You.â
Her voice cracked. She looked away, biting down hard on her lip. He took a careful step closer, chest tight. âYou donât understand. When I said those things, I was⊠projecting. I pushed you away because Iâ because I was scared. Scared of how much I actually care about you.â
Her eyes widened, anger and shock clashing inside her. âCare about me?â she whispered. âThatâs what that was? You think ripping me apart is how you show you care?â
Drewâs jaw clenched, his voice breaking. âNo. Thatâs not caring, thatâs cowardice. I didnât know how to handle the fact that youââ He stopped, struggling to force it out. âYou mean more to me than I ever wanted to admit. I thought if I pushed hard enough, I could convince myself you were just competition. Just another fight. But youâre not. You never were.â
Her lip trembled. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she cursed under her breath, turning away. âI hate crying,â she muttered. âI hate feeling like this. I hate feeling weak.â
He reached out, gently tilting her face back toward him. His hands cradled her cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears. âYouâre not weak,â he whispered, reverent. âYouâre the strongest person Iâve ever met. And God help me, youâre even more beautiful when you let yourself feel.â
Her breath hitched, chest rising and falling quickly. Weeksâ monthsâ of tension swelled between them, thick and combustible.
âY/NâŠâ Drewâs voice was rough, breaking.
And then she closed the distance.
Her lips crashed against his, fierce and desperate. It wasnât gentle, it was messy, heated, like they were trying to take back every moment wasted in denial. She fisted his shirt, dragging him closer, like she was afraid he might slip away. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him, anchoring her in place.
The kiss was fire, anger, longing, need all tangled together. Every insult, every staredown, every almost-touch exploded in this one moment, and neither of them wanted to let go. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, foreheads pressed together, Drew let out a ragged laugh. âBloody hellâŠâ he whispered, voice shaking. âIâve wanted to do that for longer than Iâll ever admit.â
Y/Nâs chest rose and fell sharply, eyes still glistening. âDonât think this fixes everything,â she whispered, lips brushing his.
âI know,â he said, thumb stroking her cheek. âBut itâs a start. And I swear to you, Iâll never tear you down again. Not you.â
Silence stretched between them, but it wasnât empty, it was thick, heavy, full of everything they hadnât said. Drew finally pulled back, taking a shaky breath. âI should let you sleep,â he murmured, starting to step away.
But her hand shot out, gripping his shirt. Her eyes were softer now, but fierce. Vulnerable. âStay.â
His chest tightened. âY/NâŠâ
Her lip caught between her teeth, her voice barely above a whisper. âPlease. Just⊠stay.â
Drew hesitated only a moment before nodding. He kicked off his boots, then let her tug him down onto the bed beside her. She curled against him, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist. For the first time in weeks, the tension eased, not gone, but transformed. No longer poison. No longer enemies. Something new. Something fragile, but real.
And as she tucked her head under his chin, her hand fisting lightly in his shirt to make sure he wouldnât slip away, Drew pressed a kiss into her hair and whispered, âIâm not going anywhere.â
             â§Ëâê·êŠïž¶ïž¶ïž¶ïž¶ïž¶ê·êŠïž¶ïž¶ïž¶ïž¶ïž¶êŠê·â§âËâč
     The crowd inside MetLife Stadium was deafening.
SummerSlam. Mixed tag. All eyes were on them.
Drew stood in the corner, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his brow as the chants rattled the arena. Across the ring, their opponents regrouped, clearly shaken. But it wasnât just Drew carrying this fight.
It was her.
Y/N had just taken the hot tag, exploding into the ring like a lightning bolt. She ducked a clothesline, hit the ropes, and delivered a picture-perfect dropkick that nearly knocked her opponentâs head off. The crowd roared. Drew leaned against the ropes, jaw tight, watching her. Watching the way she moved, confident, fearless, commanding the ring like sheâd been born in it. Heâd seen it before, but under the SummerSlam lights, it hit him differently.
God, she was incredible.
Her opponent scrambled to the corner, tagging in the other half of their team. Y/N didnât hesitate, she launched herself off the top rope, twisting in the air, and landed a crossbody that sent the arena into chaos.
Drew couldnât hold it in, he roared with the crowd, pounding the turnbuckle in approval. His chest burned with something deeper than adrenaline. Pride. Awe. And something else heâd been fighting for weeks.
When Y/N finally tagged him back in, Drew cleared the ring with a Claymore like a man possessed. The final three-count was almost a blur, the refâs hand slapping the mat as the bell rang and the announcer screamed their victory.
The building shook. His theme blasted through the speakers, fans on their feet. Y/N rushed back into the ring, colliding with Drew as they threw their arms up together. Theyâd done it. SummerSlam. Victory.
She turned to him, grinning, hair sticking to her forehead, chest rising and falling. âWe actually did it!â she shouted over the roar.
Drewâs heart thudded in his chest. He nodded, his smile softer, more personal. âAye. We bloody did.â
And then she did it, something small, something only for him. Y/N reached up and grabbed his wrist, raising his arm higher for the crowd. Not her arm. His. A deliberate show of respect, of partnership. Her way of saying, I see you. Iâm proud of you too.
It broke him. Drewâs face shifted, gone was the usual stoic grin. His eyes softened, the mask slipping. He didnât care about cameras, about kayfabe, about keeping their fire under wraps. Not anymore.
Before she could process, his hand slid around the back of her neck, pulling her in. Y/N gaspedâ then his lips were on hers. Right there in the middle of the SummerSlam ring. The crowd exploded. A shockwave of sound rolled through the arena, fans screaming, cheering, some even shrieking. The commentary team lost it, shouting over each other in disbelief.
Y/N froze for a heartbeat, but only a heartbeat. Then she melted into him, fingers gripping the front of his gear as if to anchor herself. The kiss was hot, unyielding, weeks of tension and frustration and buried feelings igniting under the stadium lights. When they finally broke apart, breathless, Drew pressed his forehead to hers. His voice was low, private, meant only for her. âThatâs for the world to see.â
Her lips curved into a dazed, giddy smile. âGuess thereâs no going back now.â
He chuckled, brushing his thumb across her jaw, his voice steady, certain. âWouldnât want to.â
The crowd kept roaring, their names chanted in unison, a sound neither of them would forget. And as Drew held her close, one thing was clear, this wasnât just a victory in the ring. It was the hard launch of the two of them. Together.
Backstage, the air still crackled with leftover electricity from the arena. Staff and wrestlers alike passed them, grinning, clapping them on the back, muttering things like âabout timeâ and âhell of a moment out there.â Everyone had seen it. Everyone knew.
But Drew could only look at her.
His large hand rested low on her waist as he guided her into a quieter hallway, away from the bustle. Even here, with only the hum of fluorescent lights and their own footsteps, the adrenaline pulsed between them. Drew stopped, turning her gently toward him. That teasing glint sparked in his eyes as he leaned down. âYouâre a pain in the ass, you know that?â
Y/N arched a brow, her lips twitching. âOh really? Thatâs your follow-up after kissing me in front of sixty-thousand people? Pain in the ass?â
His grin widened, boyish and wolfish all at once. âA stubborn, mouthy pain in the ass.â His accent thickened as his voice dropped lower, rough with affection. âButâŠâ His hands tightened on her waist, tugging her flush against him, his breath brushing her ear. ââŠI wouldnât have it any other way.â
Heat crept up her cheeks, though she masked it with a roll of her eyes. âSmooth, McIntyre. Real smooth.â
He smirked, tilting his head, lips grazing just beneath her ear before pressing to her neck in a slow, deliberate kiss that made her shiver. He felt her body tense, then melt against him. âYour ring work tonightâŠâ he murmured against her skin, ââŠwas flawless. You were flawless.â
Y/N let out a soft laugh, tilting her chin at him with mock arrogance. âIf it took all this just to get you to admit how good I am, I shouldâve seduced you sooner.â
Drew threw his head back with a full, unguarded laugh. It echoed off the walls, deep and warm, and when his gaze fell back to her, it wasnât teasing anymore. His eyes softened in a way they never did with anyone else. He pressed his forehead to hers, voice low and reverent. âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd yetâŠâ she teased back, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, ââŠhere you are.â
His lips curved in a smile, softer now, full of quiet devotion. âAye. Here I am.â
They stood like that for a beat, the world around them fading into nothing. Just two people whoâd clawed and fought and bickered their way into something neither of them had expected, but both of them had wanted. Finally, Drew kissed her again. Not the desperate heat of their first kiss, not the shocking spectacle of the one in the ring, but something deeper. Slow. Intentional. His hands cupped her waist, thumbs tracing circles against her hips like he never wanted to let her go.
When they broke apart, Y/N was smiling, really smiling, that mischievous, fire-in-her-eyes grin heâd fallen for without meaning to. âGuess weâre not enemies anymore,â she whispered.
Drew brushed his knuckles along her jaw, his voice steady, certain. âNo. Not anymore.â A pause, his lips twitching into that crooked smile she knew too well. âBut donât think that means Iâll stop callinâ you a pain in the ass.â
Her laugh rang out, light and teasing. âAnd donât think Iâll stop proving you wrong every chance I get.â
He kissed her temple, lingering, before sliding his arm firmly around her waist. As they started walking back toward the locker rooms, whispers and knowing smiles trailed them like shadows. For the first time, there was no pretending. No hiding. No question.
The world knew. They knew. And Drew, sneaking one more glance at her glowing face as she leaned into his side, knew he wouldnât trade a single fight, insult, or bruise that had led them here. Because thisâ herâ was worth every bit.
In My Corner is one of my fav stories atm!! ur such a good writer đ€ as a cm punk girlie im hoping for them to be endgame!! but i was wondering, if not one ending will you make alternate endings for each guy ? love ur writing !đ
Heyyy!! I appreciate this so much. I swear yall make me cry all the time đ. But since the story is so complex and weaves back and forth, there is only going to be one ending. If I made multiple endings Iâd have to write multiple alternate chapters just to make it make sense. So there will only be one ending with one of the guys đ«¶đ€
                â§ïœ„ïŸ:*᎔âá” á”á”á”á” á”ᶊᶠá”ËĄ (ê êł êâż)*:ïŸâ§*
     The ride to the airport was quiet aside from the gentle thrum of the A/C. Y/N didnât know what to say, and frankly, neither did he. It wasnât common that the two mouthiest stars in the WWE were at a loss for words. Both of their phones had been on silent since the post of them att he game blew up. It only got progressively worse at three in the morning when the video fthem on the kiss cam emerged on the internet. Someone posted the footage and it was only a matter of time before they had to face the music for their actions.
Y/N had to call Colby. She knows he was sleeping when the video was posted, but he had to have seen it by now. But she couldnât call him when she was with Phil. It wouldnât be right to either of them to have that conversation. As soon as sheâs in the airport, she plans on calling. She doesnât know what to expect. Well, she has an idea⊠and itâs not gonna be pretty. And no matter how many times sheâs ran through the conversation in her head the past few hours, nothing she says seems to be good enough. The only thing that seems to have stuck is just a desperate Iâm sorry.Â
Phil glances in her direction, watching as the wheels behind her eyes turn to the point of combustion. His green eyes canât seem to look away from her for long, knuckles turning white as he grips the wheel. He knows exactly why she looks so broken. He knows sheâs thinking about Colby. It stings. It does. Knowing after the moment they shared, she still canât seem to get him out of her head.Â
But he doesnât have time to be mad or bitter. If he wants to win her back, he has to cover as much ground as possible. He exhales softly, reaching over the middle console to grab her hand. Y/N finally is pulled from her thoughts, eyes snapping up to meet Philâs brief stare. He glances at her, then back at the road, then black at her. She didnât expect the tenderness of his callused hand, but even though she should, she doesnât pull away.
âYou need to stop overthinking,â Phil tells her quiet yet firm. âLike you said at the game, it was a kiss cam. Itâs not that big of a deal.â
Thereâs a long pause, Y/N inhaling sharply. â...Maybe that was me trying to convince myself it wasnât,â she admits, hating how weak her voice sounds. âClearly to the rest of the world itâs a big fucking deal. And Iâm sure Colby wont react as nonchalantly about it as we tried to.â
Phil can hear the edge in her tone, but sheâs more tired than angry, more disappointed. She couldnât believe she tried to brush it off. âIf he cares about you the way he says he does, heâll listen to you.â
âThat doesnât mean he wonât be angry, Phil,â she points out upsetedly. âI can talk in circles for hours about what happened, but he still has every right to be pissed off at me.â
âWhy would he?â He hears himself growing frustrated. He tries to keep his emotions in check, but trying to calm her down over the man who practically stole her from him made it difficult. âYou said yourself you didnât think it meant anything.â
âI said I didnât know what it meant,â she bites out. âIt obviously meant something, asshole. It meant more than I wanted it to or I wouldnât be here. I wouldnât be freaking out over everyoneâs reaction. If it didnât mean anything, i wouldnât have even done it in the first place. I wouldnât have felt the need to kiss you if I didnât feel something.â
Silence.Â
Phil isnât quite sure what to say. In her angry rant, she just admitted more than he thought she would. She just fessed up to everything he wanted to hear. That thereâs still something between them. He canât help the way the corner of his lip twitches up at her confession, and also because of the fact she never pulled away when he held her hand. Y/N watches the way his eyes scrunch up in that infuritatingly cute way whenever he smiles. She has to fight off her own grin, focusing on why sheâs still upset.
âWIpe that stupid smirk off your face before I do it for you,â she grumbles, looking out the window so she doesnât feel the urge to actually smile back. However, she still never removes her hand from his.Â
Phil just chuckles softly, shaking his head as he pulls into the parking lot where her gate is located. He throws he car in park, âNo need to get so aggressive sweetheart,â he leans back in his chair, head tilting so he can stare at her. She doesnât understand how he can look so at peace, how he can grin like they just got back from a honeymoon in Greece. Like they didnât just do something that is going to implode their lives. âJust nice to hear that you still havenât gotten over me.â
He almost cackles at the heavy glare she sends him. She shifts in her seat, looking away. An easy tell to him that sheâs flustered. She always did this. But he loves watching the way she canât help but smile awkwardly as her face heats up.Â
âI hate you,â she grumbles. âAnd I am over you. Maybe this was just unresolved tension from when you dumped me for April.âÂ
Punk scoffs, âOkay, I didnât dump you,â he counters sassily. âIf my memory serves me correctly, it was your idea to end things.â His memory is perfect. It was Y/Nâs idea to call things off as soon as she saw the way he acted with April. She wasnât interested in being a secret side piece when he obviously wanted to be with someone else. If he wanted he he would come back eventually, and thatâs what she told herself.Â
âAnd you act like I didnât fuck you in the broom closet at that arena in Wisconsin the week after.â He adds bluntly.
Y/N chokes on her own spit, startled by his brashness, but she does remember that day very vividly. Everyone thought her mach with Trish is what caused her limp, but if anyone saw the smirk on Punkâs face, they wouldâve known the truth. He ws never subtle in his claims of her.Â
She clears her throat, looking back out the window, âYou still ended up choosing her.âÂ
Phil can hear the undertone of hurt in her voice, no matter how hard she tries to mask it with indifference. Itâs still there. That sting of losing something she had thought was a constant. They remained friends, of course, but after having the⊠special relationship they had, it was odd having to shift back to just friends. And most would say they never actually got back to that platonic place. April was the first one to call it out. That the two of them were just biding time until they found their way back to one another.Â
Phil stares at her, eyes softening. âDid I?â He questions.
Y/N looks back at him, eyebrows furrowed, âWhat do you mean?â
His lip is twitched up in an almost sad smile. Reflecting on everything that has transpired between them makes the mood almost bittersweet. âDid I really choose her?â
Y/N blinks, âI mean, it sure as hell felt like it,â she scoffs out a laugh. âYou guys were together for years Phil. She literally left the company right after you did. You guys moved in. Got a damn dog together. You stopped talking to me. Iâd say that was a pretty finite decision.â
Thereâs a brief pause, âBut where am I now?âÂ
Y/N stared at him, blinking in stunned silence at his words. But where am I now? The question echoed in her chest, bouncing around her ribcage in a way that was almost suffocating. Because he was right. He came back. He was sitting here. With her. Not with April. Not with anyone else. But even still, she couldnât stop that voice in her head from whispering that maybe this wasnât real, that maybe this was just circumstance. Maybe he was only here because everything else fell apart.
Phil noticed the hesitation in her eyes instantly, like he always did. He leaned back against the driverâs seat, still holding her hand, his thumb tracing over her knuckles. âThereâs a reason Iâm here with you and not her,â he said finally, his tone lower, less teasing now. âThereâs a reason that shit didnât work out. Becauseâ truth isâ I made my decision a long time ago. I was just too dumb, too stubborn to admit it. The happiest Iâve ever been was when I was with you. And I didnât even realize it until it was gone.â
Her throat went dry, her chest tightening. She shook her head, almost laughing bitterly. âPhil⊠youâre only saying that because it didnât work out with April. You wouldnât be here saying this if it had.â
He smirked, but it wasnât cocky, it was tired, honest. âNo. You donât get it. I could never hate April. No matter how bad things got, no matter what we disagreed on, she was never someone I could hate.â
Y/N blinked, confusion flashing in her eyes. âHow the hell does that prove anything? That literally backs up what I just said.â
Phil shook his head slowly, his hand tightening around hers. âNo, sweetheart. Indifference? Thatâs when you know you never really gave a shit. Thatâs when itâs over. But hate?â His green eyes locked on hers, sharp, unflinching. âThe line between hate and loveâs so goddamn thin you can barely see it. And thatâs how I knew. âCause I could hate you. I did hate you sometimes. But it was never clean. Never final. Itâs because I never actually wanted to let you go.â
The air in the car thickened, neither of them able to look away from the other. Y/Nâs heart pounded so hard she swore he could hear it. His face was so close, his voice so raw, and before she could even think, they were leaning in, too close, too dangerous.
It was another one of those moments. One of those âif you move an inch, Iâm done forâ moments. She could feel his breath ghosting across her lips, her pulse racing at the familiar pull between them. And god, she wanted it. She wanted to let herself fall back into the ease of him, back into the chaos that somehow always made sense when it was just the two of them.
But Colbyâs face flashed in her head. His laugh, his warmth, the way he always made her feel steady. Safe.
Her chest constricted. She couldnât. No matter how much she wanted to.
Instead of kissing him, Y/N leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder. It was the only thing she could give him without breaking every promise she had made to herself. Phil froze for a second, surprised. Then his arms came around her, strong and grounding, holding her like he wasnât ready to let go. He exhaled softly against her hair, disappointment flickering in his chest, but understanding too. He wasnât going to push.
âGuess thatâs my answer, huh?â he muttered against her temple, a sad smile in his tone.
Y/N pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes glossed over. âIâm sorry.â
He shook his head, brushing a strand of hair from her face before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. It lingered, warm, final in its own way. âDonât be sorry, sweetheart.â
The silence between them said everything else.
Phil got out first, slinging her carry-on over his shoulder before she could argue. He walked her through the automatic doors, through the noise of the terminal, right up until the security checkpoint where he couldnât go any further. The weight of their history followed them, hanging heavy in the air. Neither of them wanted to say goodbye, not really. But they also knew they had to.
âIâll see you at work,â he said finally, stuffing his hands in his pockets like if he didnât, heâd reach out and hold her again.
âYeah,â Y/N replied, her voice quieter than she wanted it to be. âSee you at work.â
She lingered, just staring at him for a long moment like she wanted to memorize him standing there. He gave her that small half-smile, the one that had always undone her, and it nearly broke her. Finally, she forced herself to turn and head toward her gate. She didnât look back. Not until she was far enough away that he couldnât see her falter.
But Phil stayed there. Watching. Until she disappeared from sight.
                 â§ïœ„ïŸ:*᎔âá” á”á”á”á” á”ᶊᶠá”ËĄ (ê êł êâż)*:ïŸâ§*
     Getting through security went a lot smoother than Y/N originally anticipated. Truthfully, she wished it took longer to avoid the phone call sheâs about to make. Her hands shake with anxiety as she bypasses a Starbucks on her way to find her seat to wait for boarding. She canât have caffeine now, itâll just make it worse. She finally finds an empty seat in a rather quiet corner. The only person near her is eight seats over and passed out with headphones lodged in his ears.Â
She exhales shakily, pulling her hoodie further over her head to hide her face. She can already feel herself getting emotional and she hasnât even called him yet. She pulls her phone out of her sweatpants pocket, unlocking it with ease. Her heart beats faster and faster with every swipe of her finger. She opens up the phone app before Colbyâs profile picture pops up. Heâs her first favorited contact. She swallows thickly, throat bobbing from the force.Â
She can already feel the familiar sting behind her eyes. She fucked up. She knows she did. And thereâs nothing she can say to excuse her behavior. Heâd be completely in the right to tell her not to come home. She wouldnât blame him if he did. Heâs stood by her all these years, through everything, and she went behind his back and kissed the man who broke her into a million pieces.Â
She betrayed the man who put her back together.
Reluctantly, she presses call and puts her headphones in. She sucks in a deep breath as it rings. Once⊠twice⊠three times⊠and thenâ
âHello?â
The sound of his voice nearly knocks the air from her chest. Itâs deep, rough, but not in the way she loves, itâs clipped, restrained. Like heâs holding a snarl in the back of his throat. She canât tell if itâs anger or if heâs been crying, but either option makes her stomach twist violently.
âHey,â she breathes, trying to keep her tone light, normal, but it cracks at the edges.
âDonât,â he cuts in sharply. One word, firm, and it shuts her down instantly. Thereâs no warmth, no ease, none of the usual soft teasing that comes with his hellos.
Her throat tightens. âSo⊠Iâm guessing you saw.â
âI saw.â The words are bitten off, sharp as glass.
She swallows, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her hoodie. âColbyââ
âY/N, donât,â he interrupts again, harsher this time. âDonât sit there and act like this is something we can just⊠chat about over the phone. I trusted you.â His voice raises slightly before he reins it in, but the strain is evident. âI trusted you to go on this trip, keep it clean, keep it professional, and instead what do I get? I get to watch you kiss the guy you swore to me, swore to me, didnât have a chance in hell.â
The words slam into her, every syllable weighted. Her chest heaves, breath shaking. âIt wasnâtâit wasnât like that,â she stammers, but even she knows how weak it sounds. âI donât even know why Iââ
âExactly.â His voice cuts through hers, sharp, frustrated. âYou donât even know. And Iâm supposed to sit here and what? Just accept that?â His anger drips heavy through the line, but thereâs a break underneath it, a fracture she knows is pain.
Her voice drops, barely audible. âI messed up. I know I did. Iââ
He exhales, the sound rough, strained, like heâs dragging his hands down his face. For a second, she thinks she hears his breath hitch, but then it hardens again. âIâm not doing this on the phone. Not like this.â
She freezes. âSo⊠what does that mean?â
âIt means,â Colby says slowly, tightly, âweâll talk when youâre back in Davenport. Face to face. Iâm notââ his voice cracks just barely, then steadies, ââIâm not giving you some half-assed fight through a phone line. You deserve better than that, and I deserve better than that.â
For the first time in days, something flickers inside her. Small. Fragile. Hope. âSoâŠâ her voice shakes, afraid of the answer, âIâm still welcome?â
Thereâs silence on the other end, and she swears her heart is going to stop from the weight of it. When he finally speaks, itâs softer, but still wounded. âJesus, Y/N⊠of course youâre welcome. Itâs your home too.â He exhales again, this one sounding like it hurts. âItâs not about me wanting you there. Itâs about⊠if I can look at you the same when you are.â
Her lips tremble. She wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out except a broken little âokay.â
âIâll see you when you get home,â he says firmly, and just like that, the line goes dead.
The sound leaves her hollow. She pulls her headphones out, staring down at her phone screen until it blurs with tears. Quiet, muffled sobs shake through her as she curls in on herself, face hidden by her hood. People move past her in the terminal, luggage wheels rolling, announcements echoing overhead, but sheâs frozen, her chest aching, her heart breaking, and her world tilting in the middle of an airport chair.
                 â§ïœ„ïŸ:*᎔âá” á”á”á”á” á”ᶊᶠá”ËĄ (ê êł êâż)*:ïŸâ§*
     The Uber pulled away from the curb, leaving Y/N standing in front of Colbyâs house with her hood pulled low over her face. Her backpack hung heavy on one shoulder, but not nearly as heavy as the exhaustion pressing down on her. She hadnât slept on the flight. Couldnât. Her eyes burned, her throat ached, but there werenât any tears left in her. She just felt hollow.
Her fist hovered over the door for longer than it should have before she finally knocked. She didnât even feel right walking in anymore.
When the door swung open, Colby stood there, hair pulled back, sweats hanging low on his hips. The surprise that flashed across his face was unmistakable. They just stared at each other for a long beat, both of them frozen.
Finally, he stepped aside, opening the door wider. âYouâre back.â His voice was quieter than usual, controlled.
Y/N shuffled past him, tugging her hoodie strings tighter as though they could hide her. âYeah.â
The door shut behind her, the sound echoing in the silence. She didnât dare look up.
âWhy didnât you tell me you landed?â Colby asked, still standing behind her. âI wouldâve come and got you.â
Her voice came out hoarse, cracked from hours of crying. âI⊠I didnât wanna bother you.â
That did it. His tone sharpened instantly, frustration cutting through the exhaustion on his face. âJesus, Y/N. Just because weâre fighting doesnât mean I donât give a damn. Donât ever think that. Of course I wouldâve came to get you.â
She flinched, shoulders hunching further. âSorry,â she whispered, so quiet it almost disappeared into the air.
Colby let out a long breath, running a hand down his face. He could see how broken she looked. Puffy eyes, red nose, hoodie drawn in around her like armor. It killed him, but he forced himself to keep steady. He couldnât just fold. Not this time.
They finally made their way to the couch, sitting down with a space between them that felt like a canyon. Colby leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. âSo.â He paused, jaw clenching. âWhy?â
Y/Nâs throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. âIt was the kiss cam. They put us on it, and we tried to brush it off, but they wouldnât move on. People started booing, yelling⊠it justâ it got overwhelming. So I kissed him. Just to shut it down.â
Her eyes flicked up briefly to his before dropping again. âIt didnât mean anything.â
Colby let out a harsh laugh, but there was no humor in it. âDidnât mean anything. Right.â He leaned back, shaking his head. âYou been on my ass for monthsâ monthsâ about being jealous, about âlosing my shitâ whenever Punk was around. You made me feel like I was crazy. Like I was insecure for no reason.â His eyes finally snapped to hers, sharp and burning. âBut then you go and kiss him in front of thousands of people. So tell me, Y/Nâ was I wrong? Was I outta line, or did I have every goddamn right to be pissed?â
Y/N stayed silent, her chest rising and falling unevenly. She didnât even try to argue. âYouâre right,â she murmured finally, barely above a whisper. âYou had every right. And Iâm sorry. Iâll do whatever I need to do to make it up to you. And if youâŠâ her voice cracked again, ââŠif you donât wanna do this anymore, I get it.â
Colbyâs jaw worked, like he was chewing on words he wasnât sure he wanted to let out. Finally, he leaned forward again, voice low but steady. âDonât be ridiculous. You think I donât want you anymore? You think Iâd be sittinâ here, feeling like my chest just got ripped open, if I didnât want you?â
Her head snapped up, eyes wide.
He nodded slowly, firm. âYeah. At first, I didnât know if Iâd even be able to look at you the same. Felt like I lost everything in one damn second. But even now? Even with all that? I still want you. More than anything. I donât wanna lose you, Y/N. Youâre still mine.â
Her lips trembled, but no words came. He rubbed his hands together, shaking his head like he was trying to convince himself as much as her. âI just⊠I need time. I need some space to figure out how to get past this. âCause right now, I donât know how.â
She swallowed hard, nodding. âOkay. I can go home for now. Give you space.â
But Colby was already shaking his head. âNo. I donât want you leaving. I gotta head out for Raw tomorrow anyway. You wonât be there, so weâll use that time apart. Youâll be here when I get back, and weâll see where weâre at.â
She let out a shaky breath. âOkay.â
Colby leaned back into the couch, running both hands over his face again. The silence that followed wasnât comfortable, but it wasnât hostile either. It was something in between raw, fragile, but maybe still salvageable.
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     The apartment still felt like him. His jacket was draped over the back of the couch, his coffee mug still sitting upside down on the drying rack. Even Kevin was moping by the door like he half-expected his owner to walk back through at any second. Y/N caught herself thinking about the way he left that morning, replaying it like it was stuck on a loop.
Colby had been quiet when he zipped his bag up, his eyes darting to her every couple of minutes like he wanted to say something but couldnât find the right words. He lingered in the doorway longer than he had to, hand flexing at his side, like he wasnât sure if reaching for her was the right move.
He wanted to kiss her. She knew it. She could feel it in the way he stalled, the way his jaw twitched, the way his chest rose like he was fighting himself. But instead of making him choose, Y/N reached out first. She laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a firm squeeze.
âItâs okay,â she told him softly. âYou donât have to.â
The words nearly cracked her chest in half, but she meant them. She didnât want him to force something he wasnât ready for just to make her feel better. And the way he stared at her in that moment, like he could see the truth written all over her face, almost broke him too.
She wanted the kiss badly. He could see it. But she was willing to swallow that want, just to make sure he felt valid in his feelings. It made it damn near impossible to stay mad at her.
So he compromised. He leaned in and pressed a kiss against her cheek. Not the lips. Not yet. But it was something, and she held on to it like it mattered more than it probably should have. Then he walked out the door, and the place had felt emptier ever since.
Now, hours later, sheâd been trying to keep busy. Sheâd run herself ragged around his place â vacuumed, mopped, did the dishes, fed Kevin, even scrubbed down the counters. Busy hands meant she didnât have to sit with her thoughts. She finally collapsed onto the couch with a plate of food, flicking on the TV for background noise.
The phone rang.
Demi.
Y/N instantly perked up, smiling as she answered. âHey, stranger.â
âWhere the hell are you?â Demiâs accent cut through immediately, blunt and sharp as always.
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. âUh⊠home?â
âYeah, I figured that much,â Demi said dryly. âBut why? You should be here. They didnât book you or what?â
Y/N leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. âNope. Nothing for me tonight. Iâve got the kickoff show in Vegas on Thursday. So I figured Iâd stay back. Save myself the hassle of traveling for once.â She hesitated, not adding the and because Colby and I are a mess right now part.
âLaaame,â Demi shot back immediately. âWe couldâve gone out for dinner. Youâre killinâ me here.â
Y/N laughed. âIâll make it up to you next time. Promise.â
âYeah, you better.â Demiâs tone softened a little before shifting. âAnyway, theyâve got me runninâ Nia at Chamber. They want you to stir some trouble in it. Some kinda revenge angle after last week.â
Y/N smirked, propping her feet up on the coffee table. âOh, that sounds fun. But hear me out, what if we pitched a handicap match instead?â
There was a beat of silence before Demi barked out a laugh. âYeah, good luck with that. You try sellinâ that to creative and lemme know how it goes.â
They both giggled, the easy flow of their friendship pulling some of the weight off Y/Nâs chest. Until Demi casually added: âBy the way, you seen social media at all today?â
Y/N froze. ââŠno?â
âThe Blackhawks game,â Demi clarified, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. âYou and Punk. Internetâs eatinâ it up. Everyone hereâs been mumblinâ about it.â
Y/N groaned, dragging her hand down her face. âGod. Does that mean everyone knows?â
âAnyone with access to Wi-Fi,â Demi deadpanned. âSo⊠yeah. Thatâd explain why Colby looked ready to chew through steel tonight.â
Y/Nâs chest tightened, her heart thumping harder. But she couldnât tell if it was Colbyâs name or Philâs that did it. Flashes of both of them cut through her head like static, and the worst part was⊠she missed them. Both of them. But Colbyâ Colby was her priority. He had to be.
âYeah,â Y/N said finally, her voice small. âWeâre just⊠trying to figure out where weâre at.â
Demi hummed low. âProbably a good thing Punk wasnât here tonight then. Colby mightâve actually swung on him.â
Y/N let out a nervous laugh, though her pulse spiked again. âYeah⊠glad he wasnât around. We donât need any more drama.â
Thatâs when Demiâs tone shifted, sharper, more probing. âSo whyâd you kiss him?â
Y/N closed her eyes, trying to put the storm into words. âThe kiss cam wouldnât move on. The crowd started booing. It was all just⊠so much. I panicked. I just did it without thinking.â Her voice cracked a little. âAnd now Iâm dealing with the fallout.â
A long exhale came through the line. âLoveâs not easy, mate. Especially not in this business.â Demiâs voice was gentler now, but still firm. âIf you really only did it âcause you felt pressured, then itâs fixable. Colbyâll come âround. ButâŠâ
Y/N swallowed hard. âBut?â
âBut if you did it âcause you still have feelings for himâŠâ Demi let the weight of the words hang. ââŠthatâs a whole different conversation.â
Silence stretched between them. Y/Nâs stomach turned.
âDo you?â Demi finally asked, blunt as ever. âStill have feelings for Punk?â
Y/Nâs answer was barely a whisper. âI donât know.â
Another pause. Y/N could almost hear Demi running a hand over her face on the other end. Finally, she spoke. âHereâs what I think,â Demi said, tone steadier now. âYouâve got stability with Colby. He grounds you. But Iâve seen you around Punk too. You light up different. More⊠alive. Only you know what you want, but you canât drag this out forever. It ainât fair to either of âem. Or you.â
âI know,â Y/N murmured.
Demi softened, a smile threading through her words. âListen, if you ever need to talk, Iâm here. Weâll do a girlsâ night in my hotel room, or weâll hit the gym and smash some weights. Whatever you need, yeah?â
Y/Nâs lips curved despite herself. âI might have to take you up on that.â
âGood.â Demiâs grin was audible. âNow quit mopinâ and eat somethinâ. I love ya.â
âLove you too, Dem.â
The call ended, leaving Y/N staring at her phone, her food forgotten. Her chest ached with all the things she couldnât say out loud.
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     Colby came home later than usual, the kind of late that made the house feel heavier than it shouldâve. He kicked off his boots by the door, set his bag down with a thump, and waited for Kevinâs nails to start clicking across the hardwood toward him. Nothing. That alone stopped him cold.
He rounded the corner quietly and found the reason why. Y/N was in the kitchen, hair tied up in a messy bun that looked like itâd been fighting gravity all day, one of his old Blackcraft shirts draped over her frame with a pair of spandex shorts. There was a dusting of sugar smeared across her cheek, and she was muttering to herself as she wiped down the counter, checked the oven, wiped again. Kevin was curled up by her feet, head on his paws, keeping watch.
Colby leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, and just took it in for a second. She looked⊠domestic. Too domestic. Like she was trying to anchor herself to something while he wasnât here.
He cleared his throat.
Y/N jumped like sheâd been shot. Her head whipped toward him, eyes wide, cheeks flushing instantly when she realized he was watching her in this state. âColby, IâI didnât hear youââ
Her gaze darted to the clutter of bowls, the dusting of flour across the counter, the sink piled with dishes. Her chest tightened. God, it looks like a disaster. Heâs going to hate this. Heâs already mad, and now it looks like I canât even keep the place cleanâ
âIâm sorry,â she blurted, hands flying to grab the nearest dish rag. âI was justâ I didnât mean for it to get so messy, Iâllâ Iâll clean it up right nowââ
Her words started tripping over each other, coming faster and faster as her breathing picked up. âI shouldâveâ I wasnât thinking, I justâ I thought youâd maybe like the pie and I wasnât trying toâ I swear I wasnât trying toââ
âHey,â Colby said softly, taking a step forward.
But she didnât hear him. Her chest heaved, breaths shallow and ragged, as she shoved plates around with trembling hands. The room tilted around her, closing in. It was like drowning, every inhale tighter than the last, lungs straining as if someone had cinched them shut. Her throat burned. Her fingers shook so badly she dropped the rag.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorryââ she chanted, tears pricking at her eyes as her voice cracked. Her whole body trembled, panic crawling like fire under her skin.
Colbyâs heart plummeted. âBaby, stopââ His voice broke as he crossed the space between them, reaching for her wrists. She tried to pull away, still babbling through sobs, âI messed everything up, I kissed Phil, I hurt you, I hurt you, I ruin everythingââ
âStop.â This time it was sharper, desperate. He caught her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to his. âY/N, breathe.â
Her chest stuttered, air catching like it physically hurt.
âYouâre not listening to me,â he whispered urgently, pulling her against him and pressing her face to his chest. âRight here. Feel me. Right here.â
He exaggerated a slow inhale, then a steady exhale, chest rising and falling against her cheek. His palm rubbed circles on her back, grounding her. âMatch me, baby. Just match me.â
For a few terrifying seconds, she couldnât. Her body shook violently, sobs clawing up her throat, but slowly, painfully slowly, her breaths began to line up with his. Still ragged, but deeper. The drowning started to ease, inch by inch, like her head was finally breaking the surface.
Colby kept his lips pressed to the crown of her head, murmuring between breaths. âYouâre okay. Iâve got you. Youâre okay.â
The dam broke. She sobbed into his shirt, shaking like she was made of glass. âIâm sorry,â she choked again, words muffled against him. âFor the kitchen, for kissing him, for everything. Iâm sorry, Iâm so sorry.â
His chest cracked open at the sound. He lifted her effortlessly onto the island, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her tears streaked down, blotchy and raw, and it damn near gutted him. His hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing tears away.
âBaby⊠stop apologizing for making dessert. You didnât murder anybody.â His tone softened, but he held her gaze. âAs for the rest⊠look. I canât sit here and say Iâm over it. Not yet. You crossed a line, and it cut me. Butââ He exhaled, shoulders loosening. âIf youâre telling me it didnât mean anything, then Iâll believe you. Thatâs enough for me to try.â
She nodded, lip trembling. âIt didnât. I swear it didnât.â
âI know.â His thumbs smoothed over her damp cheeks again. âBut thereâs gotta be a boundary, alright? I canât have you alone with him. Not after that. Iâm not trying to control you, I justâ thatâs where I draw the line.â
Her heart sank, and it showed in her eyes. But she still whispered, âOkay. If thatâs what it takes⊠okay.â
Colby leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose, then the damp corner of her mouth. âWeâll figure it out. Donât think for a second I donât still want you. Youâre still mine.â
That cracked something in her, and she grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. âIâm so sorry.â
âI know.â He kissed her temple. âItâs gonna be alright. One step at a time.â
Thatâs when the oven beeped.
Y/N jumped, swiping at her face. âShit.â She scrambled off the counter, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling out the pie. It was golden, perfect. She set it down and turned with a sheepish smile, cheeks still blotchy. âSurprise.â
Colby smirked, that signature Rollins smirk, cocking his head. âYou made this for me?â
She shrugged, suddenly shy. âI made it becauseâŠI missed you. I missed your warmth. This was the only way I could stop crying long enough to feel you close.â
Something inside him twisted, aching and tender all at once. It made sense now why Kevin didnât rush to the door when he got home. Heâd been protecting her. It killed him to think of her having a panic attack like that without him home. But at least Kevin was there to keep her steady when he couldnât. Heâd bonded to her. He was comforting her like a young child would their mother.Â
He leaned in, kissing her lips, soft, unhurried. Her eyes widened, startled, before he pulled back just enough to whisper, âThank you.â
Then he grabbed forks, a knife, and the whipped cream. Minutes later, as the pie cooled, he finally cut himself a slice. One bite in and he groaned out loud, dramatic and unfiltered. âGoddamn. Thatâs the best pumpkin pie Iâve ever had. And you know how picky I am with this shit.â
Y/Nâs face bloomed into a smile, the first real one in days. For the first time since everything fell apart, it felt like they had a piece of their groove back.
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    Thursday came a lot quicker than Y/N anticipated. It was finally time for the WrestleMania forty kickoff event. She and Colby caught a flight Thursday night, the travel being nonstop for them. Y/N has gotten to the point where she doesnât believe she can get jet lag anymore with how frequently theyâre in different time zones.Â
Her hand is laced through Colbyâs as they walk into the venue. Cameras are immediately on them as they walk forward, prerecording for when they go live later. He glances down at her, a small grin on his face as she looks up at him. He doesnât even think before leaning down to kiss her softly. She smiles against his lips, happy that theyâre at a point where he feels comfortable enough to kiss her again.Â
The arena was already buzzing with that distinct pre-WrestleMania energy, voices bouncing off the high ceilings, camera lights flashing every few seconds, production assistants rushing past with clipboards in hand. Y/N adjusted her grip on Colbyâs hand as they walked deeper into the venue, the cameras that had followed them finally peeling off once theyâd gotten the prerecorded footage they needed. She leaned closer to him, lowering her voice with a grin.
âFeels like a zoo in here.â
Colby let out a small laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching as he glanced down at her. âYâknow how it is during WrestleMania seasoned, babe. Controlled chaos.â
Before Y/N could respond, she spotted a familiar blonde head across the room. âCody!â she called out, breaking into a grin as she slipped out of Colbyâs grasp just long enough to cross the floor and pull Cody Rhodes into a quick hug.
Cody let out a soft laugh, squeezing her back tightly before pulling away to look her over. âWell, look who finally showed up. You ready for tonight, or am I gonna have to carry you in our segment too?â
Y/N smirked, nudging him in the ribs. âPlease. You should be thanking me. Iâm the reason this thingâs about to turn some heads.â
âOh, I donât doubt it,â Cody chuckled, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. âBetween you stirring the pot and Colby always running his mouth, itâs basically must-see TV.â
Colby finally caught up, hands in his pockets, his own smirk tugging at his lips. âHey, my mouth pays the bills.â
âYeah, and Y/Nâs the one making you tolerable,â Cody fired back with a grin.
Colby barked out a laugh, giving Cody a light shove to his shoulder. âDonât inflate her ego any more than it already is. Trust me, she doesnât need it.â
Codyâs smile softened as his gaze flicked between the two of them. âSo⊠does this mean things are good now? You guysâ back on track?â
Y/N glanced at Colby, the answer in her eyes before she even said a word. Colby tilted his head, then gave a small nod. âWeâre good. Not perfect, but⊠better. Getting back to normal.â
âGood,â Cody said simply, clapping Colby on the back in that firm, brotherly way. âThat makes me happy. Seriously. You two belong raising hell together, not apart.â
âAw, look at you being sentimental,â Y/N teased, rolling her eyes.
Cody chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. âDonât get used to it. Iâve got a reputation to uphold.â
Colby smirked faintly at that, and the three of them exchanged a few more pleasantries before Cody excused himself to prep for his segment. As they started walking again, Y/N slipped her hand back into Colbyâs, letting the comfortable weight of it ground her. They were headed toward the makeup area for quick touch-ups, nothing extravagant, just part of the routine. But as they rounded the corner of the hallway, her steps faltered.
Her eyes caught on him immediately. Phil.
He was standing with a small group near one of the producers, his arm snug in that familiar tricep brace, though the sleek cut of his navy suit distracted from it. The fabric fit him perfectly, sharp lines accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. His dark hair was slicked back, neat in a way that made him look both polished and dangerous, and his smileâ God, that smileâ lit up his face as he laughed at something the producer said.
Y/Nâs heart stuttered in her chest. He looked⊠incredible. For a second, she couldnât look away. She hated herself for it, hated the way her chest felt warm and fluttery, hated that her lips almost curved into a grin just from the sight of him. She tried to remind herself that Colby was right beside her, that she shouldnât even be thinking these things. But Phil had always had this effect on her, like gravity, pulling her in whether she wanted it or not.
As though he could feel the weight of her stare, Philâs head turned. His eyes locked onto hers, and the hallway seemed to still. Time stopped. Neither of them moved. Philâs gaze lingered, deliberate and heavy, and Y/Nâs breath caught in her throat. He didnât look away. Instead, a slow smirk spread across his face, sharp and knowing. And then, just to twist the knife, he sent her a wink.
Heat rushed up her neck, blooming across her cheeks. She felt the flush betray her as she forced herself to look away, biting the inside of her cheek to fight off the grin threatening to break across her face. God, she hated him. Hated him for still managing to make her feel as giddy as she had in her twenties, when everything between them was reckless and burning.
Colby, oblivious, tugged gently at her hand, guiding her down the hallway. âCâmon,â he murmured. âLetâs get this over with before they decide we need full glam.â
But Y/Nâs pulse still thrummed in her ears, her thoughts tangled and dangerous. Phil Brooks still had her number. And she knew it.
                 â§ïœ„ïŸ:*᎔âá” á”á”á”á” á”ᶊᶠá”ËĄ (ê êł êâż)*:ïŸâ§*Â
    Y/N smirks as Colby struts out onstage after Michael Cole and Pat McAfee introduce him. She stands comfortably backstage, Joe on her right, Paul on her left. Her outfit is a dark emerald green, coincidentally matching Sethâs sparkly suit as he revels in the audience singing his song. She smoothes over her glittery top, adjusting the leather pants that make her quads look huge.Â
âI dunno if I should be offended they made you match with him or not,â Joe mumbles with a teasing tone. âStartinâ to question if youâre planning on leaving me for Raw or somethinâ.â
Y/N freezes for a moment. She hasnât mentioned leaving to Joe yet. Sheâs obviously been thinking about it for a while, but she hasnât talked about it with any of the guys. Besides Josh, of course. She just smiles, looking up at him as Colbyâs music cuts out.Â
âDonât be jealous,â she lightly shoves him. âIâm still standinâ by you arenât I?âÂ
He rolls his eyes, âYeah, yeah.â He wraps an arm around her shoulder. âThatâs one thing Iâll always be grateful for.âÂ
Thatâs when Colbyâs cackle fills her ears. She glances at the monitor as he says a petty, âStill a pretty big pop, Iâd say.âÂ
She canât help but chuckle, Joe rolling his eyes. She slaps her best friend's chest, still laughing. âYou walked into that one after talking your shit last week,â she chastises. âDonât roll your eyes.âÂ
âThen tell your man to stop beinâ so damn dramatic,â he fires back as they walk closer towards the entrance, their cue coming up.Â
âYou tell him yourself,â Y/N fires back. âYou guys had a bromance going on way before I was in the picture.âÂ
Thatâs when one of the producers nods their head at them. Colby says his line, calling Cody out there, and thatâs when Romanâs music hits. Colby throws his head back, completely annoyed at the interruption. His title is slung over his shoulder as he waits for the arrival of the Tribal Chief. Y/S/N and Roman walk out from backstage, aura oozing out of them with every step. The crowd goes crazy, ones shooting up in the air as well as some chants for Y/S/N circulating around the room.Â
Paul holds Romanâs title close to his chest, Y/N clutching hers as itâs draped over her shoulder as well. They absorb the crowd reaction for a moment before Roman sticks his hand out, waiting for Paul to hand him his championship. The Wise Man does his job, handing Roman what he requests. Roman raises the title high in the air, Y/S/N joining him, earning another loud pop from the audience.Â
Roman hands his title back before taking the microphone from Heymanâs hand. Y/N places her title safely back on her shoulder, briefly looking at Colby who even with sunglasses, anyone could tell he was staring directly at her. The heat of his stare never failed to make her forget what sheâs doing.Â
âLas Vegas!â Romanâs booming voice pulls her back to the present. She plasters on her cocky smirk, confidence exuding from every pore in her body. âAcknowledge me!âÂ
Her finger shoots in the air, Roman nodding in approval at her. A mix of cheers and boos echoes around the room. Seth simply grins evilly before raising the microphone to his lips, âHey guys⊠he showed up for work once.â The crowd gasps and applauds the dig. âI love to see it. Good to see you, big brother.â He says mockingly.Â
Roman doesnât hesitate, looking out to the crowd, âAnd he showed up to work in my right hand womanâs shoes.âÂ
Everyone shouts a loud âOHâ, and Seth revels in it. He shimmies around in his shoes, which Y/N would never actually wear, but she can appreciate the humor. He grins, looking her up and down as he and Roman start talking over each other like two siblings in a rivalry would. Roman finally manages to sound louder than him, âLetâs talk about someone who actually matters right now.âÂ
Thereâs a mixture of Rocky and Cody chants in the audience. Roman waits a moment before saying, âLetâs talk about Cody Rhodes!â Another mixture of boos and cheers. âThe man who canât make his own decision.â Y/S/N sends an odd look her Tribal Chiefâs way, hoping the audience picks up on her distaste. This long term storytelling is going to feed generations.Â
âMr. Hesitation. Hereâs a life lesson kids, if you hesitate, your momentâs gonna move on. And thatâs whatâs happened to Cody Rhodes. Itâs no longer his decision. Itâs now your Tribal Chiefâs decision.â Now that is met with more boos than anything. Seth stares at him with disbelief, Y/S/N sharing the same look. Almost as if she doesnât approve of this tactic. She may not follow all the rules, but sheâs always honored those who have earned their spot. âThatâs exactly how it works, thank you.â He says in response to the haters.Â
âSo tonight, I choose who faces me at the main event of WrestleMania.â He soaks in the reaction before glancing over at Seth with a look of pure disdain. He waves him off like he means nothing, âHey, get this bum outta here. Jusâjust get this bum outta her already, huh?âÂ
Y/S/N subtly shifts away from Roman, taking a step closer to Seth. Only those really paying attention would pick up on it. Roman lifts his head up arrogantly, âI chooseââ He pauses, allowing the crowd to voice who they think he should face between The Rock and Cody. âI chooseâ The Rock!âÂ
The crowd goes berserk in both a negative and positive way. Some people love the decision, others hate it. Seth starts shouting thatâs not how this whole process works. Y/S/N takes a step towards Roman, in an almost defiant manner. She tells him that he canât just pick his opponent. Cody won the Rumble. However, Roman doesnât get to respond as the Rockâs music hits, making the crowd get even louder.Â
Dwayne walks out, microphone already in hand. His presence is just so powerful that it takes everything in Y/N not to geek out along with the rest of the crowd. His entrances never fail to turn her into a fan girl. He walks to each side of the stage, raising his iconic eyebrow before going right back to the middle, between Roman and Seth.
He raises the microphone to his lips like heâs going to say something, but stops when the crowd grows louder. He glances over at Seth who puts his hands up, claiming he wasnât saying anything bad about The Rock. Thatâs when he raises the mic back up, âFinally!â His gravelly voice announces. âThe Rock has come back to Las Vegas!â Some people in the crowd scream it along with him, others trying to boo over him. Either way, the man is doing his job.
âNow, let The Rock ask you a question,â he starts. âDo you think that Roman Reigns is going to beat The Rock at WrestleMania?â Some people scream yes, others no. Thereâs not a lot of times where anyone in the WWE fandom agrees on anything, and this is no exception. Thereâs a large group of people who donât even want The Rock versus Roman. They want Cody. And truthfully, Y/N does too.Â
âOr do you think that The Rock is going to beat the Tribal Chief at WrestleMania?â Thereâs more boos in response to that, Roman crossing his arms with a smug shrug. The Rock clearly doesnât like that response as the crowd starts chanting âWe Want Codyâ as well as âRocky Sucks.âÂ
âOr do you think that The Rock and Roman Reigns will be the biggest Main Event in the history of WWE?â
No one would be able to dispute that. People boo out of their love and want for Cody. Y/N agrees and respects that, but truth be told, The Rock versus Roman would be a killer match. Everyone would watch. It wouldnât only bring in wrestling fans, but it would also intrigue the fans of his outside of the WWE. It would also be huge watching two generational Superstars from different eras go at it.Â
âAll right,â Dwayne raises his hand. âI love the passion. The Rock loves the passion. So to members of the press, welcome. Glad youâre here. To the WWE universeââ heâs cut off again by more âWe Want Codyâ chants, stopping his sentence. âTo the WWE universe, welcome. To everyone watching around the world, welcome. And certainly, to the millions of The Rockâs fans, welcome.â The people in the crowd add their own and millions to his statement. âAnd on top of that, to the members of the press, world watching, I introduce you to⊠the Cody Crybabies.âÂ
All of Codyâs fans cheer loudly, proud to show their support for the American Nightmare. Y/N has to fight off her smile. Cody worked for this. He earned this fanbase through blood, sweat, and tears. Through Dashing, Stardust, and so much more, he finally found his home. He found who he is and heâs the most beloved Superstar in all of WWE right now.Â
Roman and Paul Heyman laugh at The Rockâs words, Y/S/N keeping her face straight. She watches as the camera catches her reaction, displaying it on the large screen behind them. This whole acting thing gets to be pretty fun in situations like this.Â
âNow,â Dwayne continues. âLet The Rock show you all, and everyone around the worldâ Iâm gonna show you something right now that is very important. Itâs very cool. And I think youâre gonna like it a lot. But regardless whether you like it, or you donât like it, you love it, or you hate it, one thing for damn sure, you are gonna respect it.â He raises his hand to the tron behind him, âTake a look.âÂ
The Bloodline family tree appears on the screen behind them. Everyone stares in awe at the amount of people in this family. Y/Nâs seen the family tree, in fact sheâs met a good portion of them during the holidays, but seeing the sheer size of this tree never ceases to amaze her.Â
âWhen you look at this incredible family treeâ and I want you to take a look at the very top of the tree.â He points up. âAt the top of that tree, The Rockâs grandfather and Romanâs grandfather made a blood oath and our family in Samoan said âAiga. Aiga forever.â And if you cannot see that, if you canât see the fact that this is proof that there is only one dominant and powerful royal family in professional wrestlingâ if you canât see that, and if you think that The Rock and Roman Reigns isnât the biggest main event in the history of wrestlemania thenâ thenâ save your boos, save your boos.â He taunts the audience. âThen, if thatâs what you think, in simple Rock speak: It doesnât matter what you think.âÂ
The crowd boos him, but that type of reaction has never phased The Rock. âWrestleMania Forty. Philadelphia. The Rock and Roman Reigns, the Universal champion versus the Peopleâs champion. Whether you like it or you donât like it, the Peopleâs champion, in the biggest main event in the history of professional wrestling. Bound by blood.â He raises his hand in the air, prompting Roman to link his hand with his. The two men hug, sharing a nod of mutual respect.Â
Y/S/N runs a hand over her face, Seth pacing in disbelief not even a foot away from her. Itâs clear sheâs not happy with what just transpired. She can hear the faint cheers of her name from her fans down below. They want her to say something. They can see her holding back. But sheâs biding her time. They have no idea what theyâre in for yet.Â
âHold on, hold on,â Codyâs voice cuts through the tension like a hot knife through butter. The crowd goes wild when they see the Nightmare stroll out in his perfectly tailored gray suit. Seth throws his hands up in a âfinallyâ motion, irritated it took him this long to finally come out here. âThis. This right here is bullshit!âÂ
The crowd goes crazy, the use of profanity not as common in WWE as it once was. Y/S/N smirks as she watches Codyâs anger grow. She hosts her championship up a little more, hip cocking to the side as she watches this all unfold. Colby raises a hand to his head, scratching it as the curse word flies from Codyâs mouth.Â
He points at The Rock and Roman, the crowd chanting his name. âRoman!â He walks over to the Head of the Table. âRoman, youâre out here calling the shots, dictating WrestleMania forty. And as the Tribal Chief, as the Undisputed Champion, you have a lot of stroke. But it is not your right, it is not your distinction to determine the main event. It is mine. I won the royal rumble!âÂ
The audience shouts in agreement. Y/S/N also voices her agreement to Roman, telling him itâs not right to take away what Cody fought for. But his eyes are solely zeroed in on Cody. The American Nightmare turns his attention to The Rock. âAnd Rock, we had a wonderful conversation. I had many conversations. I have made my decision.â Thereâs a long stretch of silence as Cody looks between Seth and Roman, allowing the suspense to build.Â
âAt WrestleMania forty in the Main Event⊠I choose you, Roman Reigns.â Cody points directly at the Tribal Chief.Â
The audience starts cheering loudly. Roman looks completely bewildered. Seth is clearly disappointed. But Y/N just stands there with that same smirk on her face, head titled as she chuckles quietly.Â
Roman lifts his mic, âYou must be crazy,â he insults. âYou must be stupid or somethinâ, huh? This is a done deal,â he gestures between himself and The Rock. âYouâre old news. Go over there with the number twoâs. The number two table will have you now,â he waves dismissively over to Seth. âLoser bracket. Right there with in dummy in green. Just go. Leave. Youâre embarrassing yourself now. Last year was your year. That was your moment. You were only a chapter in my book. Nobody cares about your story, nobody cares about you finishing the story. Youâre embarrassing your entire family now. Youâ just understand thisâ youâre irrelevant.âÂ
Cody tries to cut in, but Romanâs next words stop him cold. âJust like your dad.â
Codyâs smile is dangerous, biting. He narrows his eyes at Roman, âHere you areâ here you are talking about family. Is that what the Bloodline is?â He questions mockingly. âLet me ask you a question⊠Howâs Jey?â The crowd screams at those words. Y/S/N raises her eyebrows, looking between Roman and Cody as the tension starts to rise. âItâs not a family. Youâre a meal ticket. And they are nothing but lackeys, but yes men. Theyâre goons!â He points between Roman and The Rock, âAnd what is this match all about right here? Who sits at the head of the table? What does it matter when neither of you have been doing any of the cooking for the past two years?!âÂ
More cheers from the crowd. Cody is on fire. Itâs always a treat getting to see him do his thing on the mic. One of the only men in WWE who could almost hold a light to John Cenaâs mic skills. The other is in the green suit a few feet away, and the next is up with the rest of the commentary team in his arm brace.Â
âEarlier we had that family tree up there,â Cody points to the tron. âAnd youâve invoked my father before, so let me go and do the same. If your grandfather was here,â he looks to Dwayne, âif the High Chief, his grandfather was here⊠theyâd be ashamed of you.âÂ
Romanâs jaw tightens. Triple H watches carefully, as does everyone else in the venue. Thatâs when The Rock drops his microphone and takes a step towards Cody. Cody looks in between him and Roman, almost confused as to why heâs stepping up to him. However, what no one in the audience was expecting was for Y/N to step in between Dwayne and Cody Rhodes.Â
Y/N didnât think twice as she stepped forward, heels clicking against the stage floor as she slid between Cody and Dwayne. Her emerald-clad figure cut the tension like a knife, her championship glinting under the lights as she lifted a hand toward The Rock. âWhoa, whoa, whoaââ Her voice rang clear over the crowd noise, even as their roar swelled. âWe donât need to do this.â
The audienceâs reaction shifted, buzzing with curiosity as she planted herself in front of Cody, her free hand pushing lightly against his chest to keep him from lunging forward. She tilted her chin up, eyes sharp as she addressed The Rock. âYou want to talk about family? Fine. But letâs not get selective about it.â Her gaze flicked toward Roman, her tone sharp but steady. âHe brought up Codyâs dad first. That door was kicked open and splintered. That line in the sand was blurred. So if we wanna call it an even playing fieldâthen itâs even now. No need to stoop lower than we already have. This is supposed to be civil.â
The crowd reacted loudly, half cheers, half boos, loving the tension but hanging on her every word. Cody stared down at her in disbelief, protective but grateful, while Seth smirked faintly from the side, almost proud she had the guts to stand up in this moment.
Y/N turned her focus back toward Roman, then The Rock. âCody won the Rumble. He earned the right to pick. Whether you like it or not, thatâs the reality. And if weâre gonna stand here, on this stage, in front of the worldâ then letâs show the world what it means to actually represent this company.â
The crowd popped hard at that, an unusual moral high ground from someone often so cocky. But Dwayne didnât budge. His eyes narrowed, the electricity in his presence shifting from playful to dangerous. Roman stepped forward, frustration flashing across his face. Without warning, he reached out and yanked Y/N back by the arm, pulling her out of the way.
She stumbled, catching herself before falling, the championship sliding against her shoulder. The crowd exploded, boos crashing like thunder at the sight of Roman manhandling her.
That was when The Rock struck. He closed the space in two steps, his voice booming into the microphone as he stared straight into Codyâs eyes. âLet me make something perfectly clear to you.â His words rolled heavy, dripping with venom. âWhen you talk about his familyâŠâ He jabbed a finger toward Roman. ââŠyouâre talking about my family. When you talk about his ancestors, youâre talking about my ancestors. And when you talk about his blood, youâre talking about my blood.â His tone sharpened into a growl. âSo now we got a problem.â
And then, before anyone could reactâ SLAP! The sound cracked across the mic, Codyâs head snapping to the side. The arena erupted. Screams, boos, chants, chaos. Cody staggered, fury flaring in his eyes.
Thatâs when all hell broke loose. Seth lunged at Roman, shoving him back with both hands, shouting obscenities that the mic barely caught. Roman shoved him right back, the two nearly coming to blows before security and officials swarmed the stage. Adam Pearce was barking orders, Nick Aldis grabbed Roman by the chest, and Triple H himself stormed in, immediately getting between Cody and The Rock.
Y/N was frozen for half a second, eyes wide as she tried to process the slap. Then something in her snapped. She surged forward and swung, a fake but convincing shot that connected with The Rockâs jaw. The crowd went wild, the sound deafening, disbelief and exhilaration mixing into one roar.
Her mic picked up her voice, fierce and sharp: âI donât know where youâve been the last eight years, but this isnât how The Bloodline represents!â
Romanâs head whipped around at her, fury etched across his face. âWhat the hell are you doing?â he shouted, shoving past Nick Aldis to get to her.
He grabbed at her wrist, but before he could yank her again, Seth slid in between them, chest puffed out, arms wide like a human shield. His shades had fallen askew, his smirk gone, he was dead serious now.
Roman snarled past him, pointing a finger at Y/N. âFall in line, Y/S/N.â His voice was thunder. âYou hear me? Fall in line.â
Y/Nâs chest heaved, her emerald-green outfit sparkling under the blinding lights as she raised her mic with trembling hands. Her voice didnât waver. âNot until you straighten up whatever the hell is wrong with you right now.â
The crowd lost their minds. Romanâs face contorted with rage, but before he could lash out again, Seth wrapped an arm around Y/Nâs shoulders and tugged her back, his glare locked on Roman the whole time. âCâmon,â Seth muttered low, voice rough but steady, his hand protective on her back as he guided her offstage.
Y/N didnât look back. She clutched her title tighter against her chest, her chin raised defiantly, walking out at Sethâs side as the arenaâs noise swelled to an uncontrollable peak. The last shot the cameras caught before cutting was Roman seething, The Rockâs jaw clenched, Cody standing tall despite the sting on his face, and Y/N exiting with Seth, emerald green flashing under the lights, leaving the Bloodline shaken in her wake.
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     The camera cut back to ringside, where the commentary team sat, the roar of the crowd still refusing to die down. Pat McAfee was leaning so far forward he looked like he might launch himself onto the table.
âSomebody pinch me, because there is no way we just saw Y/S/N knock the taste out of The Rockâs mouth!â Patâs voice cracked with laughter, one hand clutching his headset. âOf all peopleâ the Great One himself!â
Michael Cole shook his head, still trying to piece the chaos together for the audience at home. âIt wasnât just The Rock, Pat. Letâs not forgetâ Cody Rhodes took a shot too. And all of this chaos, itâs starting to feel like weâre building toward something bigger. Weâve got Roman Reigns, weâve got The Rock, weâve got Seth Rollins, Cody Rhodesââ
âSay it plain, Michael,â Big E cut in, grinning so wide it was infectious. âYouâre talking about a tag match. Cody and Seth versus Roman and Rock. Thatâs where this train is headed. You can feel it.â
Cole gave a half-nod, half-sigh. âIt certainly seems that way.â
Before he could continue, Punk finally leaned into his microphone, his voice low but cutting through the noise like a knife. âYeah, yeah, yeah, thatâs all fine and good, but can we stop pretending anything tonight is bigger than the fact Y/S/N just punched The Rock?â
The crowd, still fired up, gave another loud cheer as if on cue, and Punk tilted his head toward the ring, grinning for the first time all night. âYou donât understand. Iâve waited my whole career to see somebody do that. I wouldâve done the exact same thing in her shoes. Maybe harder.â
Pat slapped the table. âYES! YES! Finally somebody said it!â He was nearly doubled over laughing. âShe decked The Rock. Nobody does that! NOBODY.â
Big E couldnât stop shaking his head. âAnd it wasnât even some cheap shot. No hesitation, no fear. She looked him in the eye and swung like she meant it. Thatâs⊠man, thatâs legendary.â
Cole tried to bring the conversation back on track. âLook, letâs not get carried away. Roman Reigns is already calling the World Heavyweight Championship the âsecond-place title.â Heâs mocking Seth Rollins, heâs mocking everything that championship stands forââ
Punk cut him off, his tone snapping sharp again. âYeah, well, letâs talk about Seth Rollins for a second. He went on national TV and said he hated my guts. No love lost there. But if Seth actually wants to shut Roman up? He needs to stop playing fashion week on Monday nights and take his balls out of his purse long enough to punch somebody in the face.â
The table erupted, Pat slamming his hands down, Big E throwing his head back laughing. Cole groaned, burying his face in his notes. âCome on!â Punk barked, jabbing a finger toward the hard camera. âTell me Iâm wrong. Tell me Romanâs not daring him, begging him, to hit back. And instead, whoâs the only one throwing punches tonight? Y/S/N. Not Seth. Not Cody. Y/S/N. And she did it to The Rock.â
Patâs voice cracked again, half-yelling, half-laughing. âShe did what half the locker roomâs been DREAMING of doing for years!â
Big E leaned into his mic, chuckling. âMan, she just skyrocketed into another stratosphere. I donât know if she knows what sheâs started, but I do know one thingâ people are never gonna forget tonight.â
Punk smirked again, eyes flicking to the ring. âGood. They shouldnât.â
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     Paul Levesqueâs steps echoed off the concrete hallway as they moved quickly, weaving through production staff and crew. He didnât slow for anything, not even her occasional sideways glance or half-grin. âKid,â he said, voice low but firm, âthat punch you just threw? Money. Perfect execution. Everybody loved it. The crowd is eating it up.â
Y/N smirked, tugging her hoodie a little tighter around herself. âThanks, Paul. I was nervous itâd look⊠weird or like I overdid it.â
âOverdid it?â Paul barked a short laugh. âYou? No chance. But we canât just leave it at that. We need momentum. Social media, viral clips, stuff that spreads faster than wildfire. Thatâs where you come in.â
Y/N tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. âYouâre saying I need to do what exactly?â
Paul slowed for just a fraction, leaning in. âWe want you and Roman outside. Confront him, be loud, be furiousâ make it so a fan can catch it. Somebodyâs gonna record. Somebodyâs gonna post. And itâs gonna blow up.â
âOutside?â she asked, skepticism in her voice. âYouâre sure thatâll work?â
Paul nodded firmly. âWeâve got to have hope. You meet him out back, make noise, get in his face, and let the scene sell itself. Fans will do the rest.â
Y/Nâs lips pressed together, a spark lighting in her eyes. âGot it.â
Without another word, she turned and stormed toward the exit. She inhaled the cool night air, letting it sharpen her senses. Every step put her deeper into her character, her mind already replaying the anger and frustration she was about to unleash.
The crunch of heavy boots echoed behind her, and she knew before she saw him. Roman Reigns emerged from the corner, hoodie shadowing his eyes but not hiding the glare that could cut steel.
âWhat the hellâs wrong with you?â he growled, voice like rolling thunder. âYou think you can just walk out here, defy me? Put your hands on my blood, on my cousin, and then stroll around with one of my sworn enemies? Who the hell do you think you are?â
Y/N squared her shoulders, tilting her chin up. âYou know exactly who I am, Roman. And donât try to act like this is about loyalty or family. Youâre scared. Youâre scared of Cody, so you hide behind your title and your mouth instead of actually earning respect.â
Romanâs jaw tightened, nostrils flaring. âI am the Head of the Table. I make the rules. You donât walk out here and lecture me on honor. You donât touch my family and talk back. You donâtââ
âI did what I had to,â she snapped, cutting him off. âIâm not here to cower, not here to play second fiddle. The Bloodlineâs always held themselves to higher standards, which is why weâve run this company for as long as we have. Bayley won the Rumble. I face her at WrestleMania because thatâs the rules. I didnât ask for it. I didnât complain. I didnât try to run around and take someone elseâs shot. You? Youâre using your power like a shield, not like a crown.â
Romanâs lips curled, venom creeping in. âAnd your precious little relationship with Rollins? That makes you feel brave enough to talk back to me?â
Y/Nâs gaze hardened, fury burning in her chest. âThatâs none of your business. And you know it. Keep your jealousy to yourself.â
Roman stepped closer, the heat of him almost physical. âYou think you can just talk to me like that? Walk out here like youâre my equal? I made you.â He sneers. âYou hit my cousin, you walk with my enemy, and you think that gives you the right to lecture me?â
âYou didnât make me,â she barks back. âI created every ounce of my career with my own blood. You were just lucky enough I chose to stand by you,â she hissed, âYouâve called me your right hand for years, so that gives me the right. The right to call out power when itâs abused. You donât get to run everything because youâre afraid. You donât want to fight Cody? Thatâs too damn bad. He won the Royal Rumble, so he gets to call his shot. So why donât you grow a pair and actually fight for that title you parade around. Donât hide behind your intimidation and your history.â
His voice dropped, low and dangerous, each word a blade. âYouâre not even blood. So what the hell do you know about how the Bloodline should represent itself?â
The words hit her like a punch. Not Joe, Joe had made it clear she was family since day one, but Roman? Romanâs gaze was ice, sharp, unwavering. Her chest tightened, every muscle in her body screaming, but she forced the anger into action.
She leaned in, shoulder ramming into his chest, hard enough to stagger him a step. âBlood doesnât make family, Roman. Actions do. You want respect? Earn it. Not with fear, not with threats, not with thisââ She gestured between them, âthis charade of entitlement.â
Fans from nearby corners whispered and fumbled with phones, capturing every second. âHoly shit,â one muttered. âShe just shoved him!â âPost that, post that now!â âThis is insane.â
Y/N didnât look back. She stormed inside, boots clicking on concrete, the night air fading behind her. By the time the door swung shut, her face was set, her chest still heaving, but the damage was done. Phones were out, whispers were loud, and within minutes, the clip was already viral. And Roman? He was left standing under the streetlights, chest heaving, jaw tight, and pride stinging.
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     The locker room had the buzz of after-show adrenaline, laughter bouncing off concrete walls, talent weaving in and out, still sweaty from the lights onstage. Y/N leaned against the doorframe with Colby at her side, the two of them getting pulled into quick handshakes, hugs, and congratulations from everyone who passed. The air smelled faintly of hairspray, coffee, and that sharp tang of pyro smoke that always seemed to stick to the walls.
Cody came strolling up, still grinning ear to ear, his forehead shining under the fluorescent lights. He slapped his palm into hers with a loud clap before drawing her into one of those half-hug, half-handshake things that had long since become their thing.
âHell of a night,â Cody said, his voice warm and proud, almost brotherly. âBut I gotta knowâŠâ He tilted his head at her with a little smirk. âDid you actually punch Dwayne? Because the way the place poppedâ I swear, it sounded like you just knocked the absolute hell outta him.â
Y/N laughed, holding her hands up like she was innocent. âNo, no, no. Come on. You think Iâd actually break my fist on The Rockâs jaw? We went over it earlier today. Whole thing was plannedâ timing, angle, all of it. We just wanted to make it look cool without him actually eating a shot.â
Codyâs grin widened as he gave her shoulder a squeeze. âYou pulled it off. That was picture-perfect. I talked to Demi, apparently everyone back here was losing their minds. Hell, I was trying not to lose my mind out there.â
She beamed at the praise, feeling a rush of pride, and went into their ridiculous handshake routine that ended with them both snapping their fingers and pointing at each other like complete idiots. Cody laughed, shaking his head as he headed off down the hall. âStar of the damn show, as always. Donât forget that.â
Colby had been leaning against the wall during all of this, arms crossed over his chest, but the fond look he gave her was impossible to miss. His eyes followed every laugh she gave, every bounce of excitement in her movements. He didnât say a word until Cody disappeared down the corridor. Then, as naturally as breathing, he slipped his hand into hers and tugged her gently toward the exit.
They made their way out of the building, weaving through the last few stragglers in production headsets, until a familiar figure caught them at the loading dock.
Joe leaned against the barricade, phone in hand and a big grin plastered on his face. âWe trending already. Our little standoff outside? Number one on X, baby.â
Y/Nâs eyes went wide before she burst into laughter, slapping his hand in a quick high five. âNo way!â
âWay.â Joe pulled her in for a quick hug. âDramaâs officially kicked off. We killed it tonight.â
She practically bounced in place, hugging him back. The energy of it all, the fact that it was working, that their story was sparking fire already, it made her chest buzz with adrenaline.
Colby just stood back with that quiet smile of his, letting her soak in the moment before Joe waved them off. âGo celebrate, you two. You earned it.â
They walked hand in hand toward the rental car, the cool night air brushing over them, the noise of the arena fading behind. Y/N felt Colbyâs eyes on her, heavier than usual, burning a hole into her side profile. She tilted her head, suddenly self-conscious, nerves tickling the back of her neck.
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. âNothinâ. Just⊠proud of you.â He tugged her closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. âYouâre killinâ it out there, like always. Itâsâ hell, itâs amazing getting to watch it up close.â
The words shouldâve made her heart soar. Instead, guilt coiled tighter in her chest. She hadnât been able to shake the weight of what sheâd done, the kiss with Phil lingering like a bruise. His praise made it sting sharper.
Colby felt her shift beside him, the way her energy dipped. He frowned, glancing down. âHey. Whatâs goinâ on in that head of yours?â
âNothing,â she deflected too quickly.
He snorted. âDonât give me that. You think I donât know you by now?â His grip on her hand tightened. âTalk to me.â
Her throat burned. Finally, she let the words out. âI hate what I did to you. Standing here, having you be so nice, so lovingâ it just makes me feel worse. I donât deserve it.â
Colby stopped walking, turning her to face him fully. His voice came low, steadier than she expected. âStop. You made a mistake. Doesnât mean I stopped lovinâ you.â
Her breath caught. Theyâd never said it before.
Her eyes lifted slowly. âYou⊠love me?â
For a second, panic flashed across his face like he wished he could rewind the words. But there was no way back. He swallowed, squared his shoulders, and said it without a flinch. âYeah. I do.â
The admission made something bright and unstoppable burst inside her. She smiled so big it almost hurt. The words tumbled out before she even thought about them. âI love you too.â
Colby let out a ragged laugh, pure relief in it, like heâd been holding his breath for months. He leaned in, kissing her hard, then pressed his forehead to hers. âGood,â he muttered, grinning against her lips. ââCause now we got even more reason to go celebrate. Dinnerâs on me.â
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      The restaurant was low-lit, warm, tucked far enough away from the Vegas strip that it felt almost private. Y/N and Colby were still in their matching green fits from the kickoff, a detail the waitress noticed immediately, grinning as she set down their menus. âYâall look like you just stepped out of a magazine,â she teased.
Colby smirked, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. âOh, we know. We planned it.â He shot Y/N a wink that earned him an eye roll.
They ordered drinks, and by the time the cocktails hit the table, the nerves from the chaos earlier had started to settle. Colby reached across the table, dragging his thumb along her knuckles. âI gotta say, babe⊠Iâm hyped to see where this thing goes. You standing up to Roman? Thatâs some big-time stuff.â
Y/N smiled, a spark of pride warming her chest. âYeah, it feels good to finally incorporate a spicier side of me into the mix like that. Iâm excited too.â
âExcited?â Colby leaned in, dropping his voice to that smug lilt he always carried in promos. âCâmonnn, thatâs underselling it. Youâre about to light this whole place on fire. Tribal Chief better watch his back.â
She laughed, shaking her head. âYouâre impossible.â
They ordered food, joking back and forth, Colby throwing out ridiculous impressions of Roman until she nearly spit her drink out. At one point he rested his chin in his palm, watching her laugh, and his smirk softened into something gentler. âHey,â he said, quieter now. âFor real. I appreciate you. Weâve had⊠our bumps this week, sure. But the fact youâre willing to work through it with me?â He shrugged, grin tugging at his mouth. âMeans the world, Y/N.â
She tilted her head, touched by the honesty. âColby, if anyone should be grateful, itâs me. I donât even know what I did to deserve you, but Iâm damn glad I have you.â
âGood,â he teased, spearing an appetizer and popping it into his mouth.
She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in his gaze lingered. When he finally stood, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, her chest ached. âBathroom run,â he murmured. âDonât miss me too much.â
The second he disappeared, her phone buzzed on the table. Her stomach dropped. The screen lit up with one word that made her pulse stutter.
Punker.
Her throat went dry, but her thumb betrayed her, swiping before she could stop herself.
âSweetheart,â Punkâs voice came through, low and familiar, tinged with a smirk she could hear without seeing. âThat kickoff was insane. You â punching Dwayne? Highlight of the night.â
She laughed softly, forcing normalcy. âIt looked good, right? We worked it out ahead of time.â
âLooked more than good,â he countered. âLooked like you actually rocked him. Not gonna lie, I popped. Hard.â
Her cheeks flushed despite herself. âWell⊠mission accomplished then.â
There was a beat, then his voice dropped lower, sly. âStill hate the matching thing with Rollins, though. ButâŠâ he exhaled, almost like he was picturing it. âYou in that green? Damn. You wore the hell outta it.â
Her lips curved, unbidden. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âRidiculously honest,â he shot back. But then his tone shifted, catching something in her clipped answers, her too-fast laughs. âWhy do you sound like youâre whispering? Whereâs Loverboy?â
Her breath hitched. âHe just went to the bathroom. Weâre, uh⊠weâre at dinner.â
âDinner,â Punk repeated flatly. Then quieter, more dangerous: âAnd youâre rushing me off the phone like last time when you were sequestered to his hotel bathroom. Whatâs going on?â
Y/N closed her eyes. The guilt weighed heavy, pressing into her ribs. ââŠColby doesnât want me talking to you alone anymore.â
Silence. Then a sharp laugh crackled through the speaker. âOf course he doesnât. Figures.â
âPhilââ
âNo, no,â he cut her off, voice rising. âHe doesnât get to control who you talk to. What the hell is that?â
She winced, glancing toward the bathroom, heart hammering. âAfter what we did⊠after the kissâ his reaction makes sense. I canât blame him.â
Punk scoffed so hard it made her grip the phone tighter. âMakes sense? Sweetheart, come on. He doesnât get to put a leash on you because you slipped once.â
Her throat burned. âItâs not just a slip, Punk. I care about him. I canât keep hurting people I care about.â
For a moment, neither spoke. Then his voice came back, quieter but cutting. âSo what is it? You hurting him⊠or him hurting you?â
The question hung between them like glass, sharp and fragile. Her lips parted, but no words came. She couldnât answer.She ended the call instead, setting the phone face down on the table. Her chest heaved, guilt and confusion clawing up her throat. Just as Colbyâs hand brushed her shoulder on his way back to his seat, she forced her best smile.
Colby lowered himself down to one knee in front of her, not dramatic like a proposal, but steady, deliberate. His hands reached for hers, warm and a little rough, his thumb brushing over her knuckles like he needed the contact to keep himself grounded.
âHey,â he said softly, searching her face with those sharp brown eyes that usually carried arrogance in the ring but, right now, carried nothing but vulnerability. âI donât think you realize how much it meant to me when you agreed not to go around Phil on your own.â
His mouth twisted a little at the name, like it tasted bitter just to say it.
âIt wasnât about control, or me trying to be some asshole laying down rules,â he went on, his voice low, almost pleading. âItâs justâheâs got this way of⊠digging into people, you know? Twisting things, making everything about him. Thatâs who he is. And I canâtââ he shook his head, exhaling hard through his nose. âI canât let him be some kind of parasite on what weâve got. I donât want him anywhere near us. Near you.â
He squeezed her hands a little tighter, leaning in closer, like he needed her to feel the truth in his words. âI donât want casual with you,â Colby said, his tone firm now, conviction cutting through the nerves. âI donât want to mess around, or explore, or figure out if thereâs something better out there. I already know. I just want you.â
Y/Nâs breath caught in her throat. The sincerity in his voice, the way his thumb kept circling against her skin, the way his eyes softened when they locked on hers, it pulled at something deep inside her. Something dangerous. For a moment, she let herself get swept up in it. âI just want you too,â she whispered back before she could stop herself, the lie slipping out so smoothly it almost sounded true.
Colbyâs lips parted in relief, a shaky smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closing like heâd been holding his breath for weeks and finally let it out.
But Y/N felt the weight of it, the sting in her chest. Because while the words felt right in the moment, a part of her, one she couldnât kill no matter how hard she tried, still wanted someone else. Still wanted Phil.
Hey! How's it going? I'm just checking up on you... Are you doing alright? Remember to drink water and stay safe! Also, Happy Friday! I hope you have an amazing weekend!
Youâre just too sweet! Iâm doing okay. Iâve been extremely busy recently and have had like no time to write. Iâm hoping to get the next chapter of âIn My Cornerâ out this weekend. Make sure youâre also taking care of yourself, okay? Have a great weekend đ«¶đ€
TW: This is my first time trying out a darker themed fic. Colby is obsessed with reader in this one. If it makes you uncomfy please donât feel like you have to read. SMUT! MDNI!!! Oral (f receiving), public sex, pnv, creampie, choking, etc. it gets dirty yâall.
Edit: Iâm very sorry for removing this story. I reread it and found that I didnât like a few sections. So I went back and rewrote them/added a few things. Thank you all for your patience đ
The hotel room was quiet except for the muted hum of the air conditioner. Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling absently through her phone while Bron leaned back in the desk chair, spinning it lazily side to side. Theyâd already burned through the usual road talk, flight times, rental cars, catering complaints, and now they were just⊠existing. Comfortable silence filling the gaps.
Bron tossed a protein bar in the air, catching it with one hand before ripping it open. âI swear, if I gotta eat another one of these on the road, Iâm gonna lose it,â he muttered around a bite.
Y/N smirked, not looking up. âThatâs rich coming from Mr. Six-Chicken-Breasts-a-Day.â
âHey,â he shot back, mock offense in his voice, pointing the bar at her, âfuel is fuel. You donât get to look like this,â he gestured down at himself with a cocky grin, âby eatinâ fries and milkshakes every night.â
Finally glancing up, she tilted her head. âYeah, but you also donât get to be fun at parties eating like that.â
Bron laughed, a deep, easy sound that filled the small room. âIâm plenty fun. Iâm just the guy carrying everybody else to their rooms when theyâve had too much.â
It was banter that felt effortless, warm, like home. The kind of back-and-forth that didnât need an audience, didnât need to mean anything. They drifted into talking about road storiesâshowers that never worked right, the fans that always seemed louder in Chicago, the time Josh fell asleep mid-flight and drooled on Bronâs shoulder. It wasnât glamorous. It wasnât heavy. It was⊠normal.
Eventually, though, the chair stopped spinning. Bron leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, staring down at the floor like he was trying to find the right words hidden in the carpet. His tone shifted. âCan I talk to you about somethinâ?â
Y/N set her phone aside, giving him her full attention. âOf course.â
He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. âIâm⊠kinda worried about you.â
Her brows pinched together. âWorried? Why?â
Bronâs jaw flexed. He was trying to be careful, trying not to say the wrong thing. âItâs just⊠Colby, man. I know heâs the top guy, I know heâs our mentor and all that. But it feels like⊠heâs got you stuck in his orbit. Like you donât really talk to Demi or Syd anymore. Me and Josh barely get time with you unless itâs business. Itâs likeâŠâ He hesitated, voice dropping low. âLike youâre not allowed to leave.â
The words cut deeper than she expected. Her instinct was to defend Colby, to argue, to push back, but when she looked at Bron, she saw it plain on his face. No judgment. No jealousy. Just worry.
âBronâŠâ Her voice softened as she slid off the bed, crouching down in front of him. She rested her hands on his knees, grounding him. âIâm still me, okay? Iâm not trapped. Colbyâs just⊠heâs teaching me. Things I wouldnât learn anywhere else. And I want to soak it up while I can, before it all changes. Before we all split.â
He wanted to believe her. She could see it in the way his eyes flicked between hers, searching for the truth. But he still shook his head slightly, unconvinced. âI just⊠I donât like the idea of anybody makinâ you feel like you donât got options. You deserve to breathe, Y/N. You deserve to be happy. Thatâs all I care about.â
Something about the way he said it, simple, blunt, no strings attached, made her chest ache. She stood up from the floor, climbing into his lap to wrap her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Bron didnât hesitate. His big arms came around her instantly, strong and steady, holding her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And for him, it was.
Her cheek pressed against his chest, her heartbeat syncing with the steady thrum of his. He smelled like soap and clean laundry, not cologne that clung to your skin for hours. He was warm. He was solid. Safe. For Bron, this was exactly how it was supposed to feel. No games, no tension, no power struggle. Just⊠right.
âYou donât have to worry about me,â she whispered, her voice muffled against him. âIâm okay.â
He squeezed her a little tighter, his chin resting on the top of her head. âYeah, well⊠Iâll probably still worry. Canât help it. You matter too much not to.â
She smiled against his shirt, eyes slipping shut. It wasnât fireworks. It wasnât dangerous. It was soft, grounding.
Neither of them noticed they werenât alone.
They hadnât realized they left the door slightly ajar, Colby stood half-hidden in the shadows, his gaze locked on the sight of Y/N in Bronâs arms. His busted knuckles flexed at his sides, jaw tight, eyes burning. What Bron saw as right, as safe, Colby saw as a threat. His girl wasnât supposed to feel safe with anyone else.
And in that moment, Seth Rollins made a silent promise: Bron Breakker had just crossed a line.
The lights painted the ring gold and white as Seth Rollins prowled across the canvas like a king surveying his kingdom. His coat shimmered, his laughter sharp and unhinged as he lifted the mic to his lips. The crowdâs energy swelled, cheers, boos, chants all crashing together, but Seth thrived in it, soaking it up like oxygen.
âThisâŠâ he spread his arms wide, twirling once in the center of the ring, âTHIS is my house! My people! My kingdom! And nobodyâand I mean nobodyâis gonna take it from me!â His voice rose, bouncing off the rafters. âI took care of Sami Zayn, I took care of Jey Uso⊠hell, Iâll take care of anyone else who thinks theyâve got the guts to step up. Line âem up, and Iâll knock âem down, bay-bay!â
The arena roared. His cadence was hypnotic, the kind of rhythm the crowd couldnât resist. He strutted, pacing, his coat swishing behind him as Heyman clapped from the corner, his face lit with calculated glee. Y/N stood just off Sethâs right shoulder, all sharp poise and smolder, while Bron Breakker held his place on the left, his arms folded across his chest.
For a moment, it was business as usualâuntil Sethâs energy shifted. His strut slowed. His grin twisted into something narrower, sharper. His gaze cut sideways, locking on Bron.
âButâŠâ Seth let the single word dangle, drawing it out until the arena quieted in anticipation. His voice dropped lower, more deliberate. âSometimes though when it comes to leadership⊠the real challenge doesnât come from the outside. Sometimes⊠the biggest threat comes from within.â
Bronâs jaw flexed, his chest rising heavier with each breath. He didnât flinch, didnât moveâbut the heat crawling up his neck told Y/N he already knew where this was headed.
Seth circled closer, his laugh bubbling up again, but it was colder this time. âYou see, some people think they can just ride the wave. Stand next to me, bask in the glory, smile for the cameras⊠and suddenly, theyâre a star.â He turned sharply, jabbing a finger at Bron. âBut letâs get one thing straight, big manâyouâre good. Youâre strong. Youâre fast. But youâre not me. You will never be me.â
The crowd gasped, a ripple of shock cutting through the noise. This wasnât on the script. Heymanâs brows ticked upward, his smirk faltering for half a second before settling back into place.
Bron clenched his fists at his sides, every instinct screaming at him to fire back. To grab Seth by the collar and shut him up right there in front of the world. But he forced himself still, chest tight.
Seth leaned in close, his smirk curving into something more dangerous. His voice dropped so only ringside mics and the faction could catch it. âYou think hanging around me makes you somebody? You think⊠spending a little extra time where you donât belong makes you more than what you are?â
Bronâs breath hitched. His fists flexed, knuckles bone-white. Y/Nâs eyes widened, she knew exactly what Seth meant. The hotel room the other night. He mustâve somehow seen them together. And now he was calling it out, here, now, in front of everyone.
Bronâs body tensed, a second away from snapping. Without thinking, Y/N slid her hand over his. Her palm pressed against his fist, her fingers weaving through his knuckles, holding him down. It wasnât just comfort, it was an anchor, keeping him from blowing everything up.
Seth straightened, pacing again, laughter spilling out like a crack of thunder. âBron Breakker! The so-called next big thing. And yeah, Iâll admit it, youâve got the tools, kid. Youâve got the body, the pedigree, the fire. But without me?â His grin widened as he threw his arms wide. âWithout me holding your hand, without me giving you this platform, without me letting you stand in this ring beside greatnessâyouâre nothing. Youâre just another rookie whoâd drown in the deep end!â
The crowd booed, a chant of âSETH! SETH! SETH!â cutting through, the fans buying into every barb. They thought this was business as usual. But Y/N could feel the venom hidden under his words, the truth tucked in the corners where only she and Bron could hear it.
She squeezed Bronâs hand harder. His chest heaved like a caged animal trying to break free, but he stayed locked in place. Stone-faced. Silent.
Seth turned once more, eyes flicking to Y/N with a flash of something darker, possessive, hungry. The smirk curled higher, a silent dare. Then he turned back to Bron for the final dagger.
âYouâre not competition. Youâre not my equal. Youâre a burden. And the only reason youâre standing here is because I allow it. Donât forget that.â
The words hung heavy, suffocating. Bronâs throat tightened, rage pooling hot under his skin. But he didnât move. He didnât speak. Y/Nâs grip on his hand was the only thing keeping him grounded, her nails biting into his skin as if to say: donât. Not here. Not like this.
Colby laughed again, soaking in the chaos, the crowdâs noise fueling him. To the world, it was just another savage Rollins promo. But to them, Bron, Y/N, and Colby, it was something else entirely.
Y/N stormed through the narrow hallways backstage, every step hot with fury. Her hands were shaking, not with fear but with the sheer force of how angry she was. Sheâd seen Colby do some manipulative, egotistical things before, but what he had just pulled out there, in front of thousands in the arena and millions watching at home, wasnât just business. That was personal. That was vindictive.
She didnât even knock. She shoved the locker room door open so hard it banged against the wall, making Colby look up from where he sat unstrapping his boots. He had moved fast after the promo, avoiding the boys in the back, avoiding Heyman, avoiding her. Which told her everything she needed to know: he knew exactly what he had done.
The door slammed shut behind her, echoing in the tense silence that followed.
âWhat the hell was that out there?â Y/N snapped, her voice sharp and cutting. âWhat the fuck was that, Colby?â
Colby tilted his head, slow and deliberate, like he was measuring her. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, like heâd been waiting for this. âYouâre gonna have to be a little more specific, sweetheart,â he drawled, voice low and gravelly. âI say a lot of things out there.â
âDonâtââ she stepped closer, pointing a finger at him. âDonât play dumb with me. That wasnât a promo. That wasnât about Sami or about proving youâre the top guy. That was you humiliating Bron. You destroyed him in front of everyone, and for what? Some cheap pop? To hear yourself talk?â
Colby leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his smile spreading wider. âYou think I do anything for cheap pops? Nah. See, thereâs always a reason.â
Y/N folded her arms, heart hammering. âThen enlighten me. Because from where I was standing, it looked like the most immature, petty bullshit Iâve ever seen.â
Colbyâs eyes darkened at that, his smirk fading into something sharper. âImmature?â He laughed under his breath, a low, dangerous sound. âNo, no, no, baby girl. That wasnât immature. That was a warning.â
Her brows furrowed. âA warning? To who?â
âTo Bron.â He stood now, closing the space between them in two long strides. âBecause Bron Breakker seems to think you belong to him. That he can sneak into my hotel, into my territory, and put his hands on whatâs mine. But you donât belong to Bron.â His voice dropped lower, eyes boring into hers. âYou belong to me.â
The words hit her like a physical blow. For a moment, Y/N couldnât even breathe. She shouldâve been furious, disgusted, something. And she was angry, yes, but it tangled with something deeper, something she hated to admit. The possessiveness in his voice made her stomach twist, her thighs press together instinctively.
âThatâs what this is about?â she snapped, shoving against his chest. âYou publicly humiliate him because your prideâs hurt? Because youâre jealous? Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?â
He grabbed her wrist before she could shove him again, not painfully, but firm enough that she couldnât ignore the strength in his grip. His eyes glinted with that wild, dangerous energy he carried both in and out of the ring. âI donât take kindly to people trying to take whatâs mine,â Colby said, voice steady, deliberate. âAnd Iâll put down my own guard dog if it means keeping you all to myself.â
Colbyâs eyes searched hers, molten and sharp, disbelief twisting into something darker when he realized she wasnât recoiling. His hand slid up from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair like a snare, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
âYou really donât get it, do you?â he rasped, forehead resting against hers, his laugh low and humorless. âYouâre mine. Always have been. Always will be. And you can lie to yourself all you wantâ but your body?â His thumb dragged across her lower lip, tugging it down slightly. âYour body already knows it.â
Y/N swallowed hard, heat prickling down her spine. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, and that tiny movement was all he needed. His grin spread slow, wicked, like heâd just won a war she didnât know she was fighting.
âOhhh,â he murmured, almost taunting, eyes flicking down to catch the subtle shift of her hips. âThere it is. I felt that. You think I didnât notice? That little tell of yours?â He tilted his head, studying her with a mixture of hunger and something unhinged. âYou like this. You like me tearing down anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way. You like when I lose control over you.â
Y/Nâs breath hitched, shame and arousal tangling in her chest, but she didnât deny it. She couldnât. Colbyâs smile sharpened. âAnd you didnât run. Not when I told you youâre mine. Not when I promised Iâd put Bron in the dirt if he stepped out of line. You stayed.â He pressed closer, chest flush against hers now, his voice dropping to a growl. âSo tell me, sweetheart⊠why are you still here?â
Her lips parted, trembling with a truth she couldnât swallow back. âBecause I donât want to be anywhere else.â
For a second, something flickered in his expression, satisfaction so raw it was almost feral. Then he surged forward, crashing his mouth against hers, this kiss nothing like the first. This one was brutal, claiming, desperate. His grip in her hair tightened as his other hand slid down to her hip, jerking her against him like he couldnât stand even an inch of distance.
The locker room, the show, the world outsideâit all blurred away. There was only the sharp taste of him, the scrape of his teeth, the intoxicating burn of finally giving in. Colby broke the kiss only long enough to whisper against her swollen lips, âThatâs my girl.â
And then his mouth was on hers again, hungrier, rougher, daring her to keep up, daring her to prove she really wasnât going anywhere. Y/Nâs hands lace through his hair, Colby groaning at the feeling. Heâs been biding his time for this very moment. Waiting to see when she would finally succumb to her dark desires the way he did.
He taps her ass twice, Y/N taking it as a hint to jump. She wraps her legs around him as he guides them over to one of the benches in the locker room. He eases them down onto it, Y/N whimpering into his lips as she feels herself growing wetter from his attention.
She couldnât stand the distance between them anymore, ripping the shirt he was wearing off his head. She wasted no time in peppering kisses along his jaw, down his neck, and across his shoulders. The toned muscle makes her feel the urge to bite, but she refrains. She knows better than to do things without him giving her permission to.
Colby lifts her head, reconnecting their lips before repaying the favor. He starts kissing down her neck, leaving marks and nibbling wherever the hell he sees fit because sheâs his. âI couldâve killed him,â he mumbles against her skin. His hands squeeze her hips tightly, âHeâs been walkinâ around here, talking, acting like he has a chance with you.â
Y/N whines quietly as he bites the soft spot connecting her neck and collarbone, and Colby drinks it up like heâs been without water for days. âHe doesnât,â she whimpers. âHe never did.â
Colby grins against her skin, something dark, hungry⊠obsessed. Itâs that same look she knows is reserved just for her. The one she loves, knowing he only looks at her like that. One of his hands travels from her hip up to the waistband of her pants, toying with the fabric there.
âI know,â he mumbles. A beat passes and then he leans up to her ear, whispering. âBut I think itâs time for me to give you a little reminder of who owns you.â
Y/N gasps quietly as he flips their position. Suddenly sheâs the one sitting on the bench and heâs kneeling before her, eyes dark and waiting. He doesnât wait to ask permission before sliding her pants off, hooking her lace panties through his fingers and dragging them off too.
The cold air of the locker room hits and a shiver runs down her spine. Colby tilts his head, almost memorizing the way her soaked heat looks sitting in front of him. The way her clit pulses with need. He smirks, never taking his eyes off her as he raises her panties to his mouth, licking a long stripe of where her arousal had seeped through the cloth. Y/Nâs own pupils dilate as she watches him shove them in his pocket.
âLook at youâŠâ he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss on her inner thigh. His tongue dances along the skin before biting softly. She whimpers quietly, more of her juices threatening to spill out as she watches him leave a mark on her. âAll of this is mine,â he says with almost disbelief.
She tries to look away from him, not used to being this vulnerable with anyone. The heat of his gaze is almost too much for her. However, it doesnât last long as he grabs her chin. His expression is serious, eyes staying locked on hers. âDonât look away from me,â he commands.
Y/Nâs lips part with a small exhale. She doesnât know how to respond. He looks almost heartbroken over the fact she looked away from him. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, guilt starting to creep in. So to apologize, she presses her lips against his, kissing him softly to make up for it. He kisses her back with a tender softness she wasnât expecting.
Then he moved back just slightly before burying his head between her thighs. Y/N couldnât help the wanton sound that escapes her lips as she curls her fingers through his hair. His tongue is firm between her legs, eating her out at a pace that shows how long heâs been waiting for this. Itâs his first time getting a taste of her and he wasnât going to waste it.
His eyes never closed, maintaining that burning stare at all times. It made it impossible to look away from him. Every time she felt the need to throw her head back from the pleasure, she couldnât. She could only look at him. Every moan, gasp, and tug at his hair, he took it in stride.
She canât contain herself anymore as she slowly starts moving her hips to meet his eager tongue. Her eyes finally roll back into her head as she feels him groan into her heat. âPleaseâŠâ she begs quietly.
Colby smirks, barely removing his head from between her legs, âPlease what, baby?â He taunts. âTell me what you want.â
âWanna come,â she gasps out as he uses his tongue to play with her clit.
He lets out that dark chuckle, âYou wanna come?â Y/N nods in response, needy and ready. âThen do it sweet girl. Come for me. Lemme see how good I make you feel.â
Her legs start shaking as he dives right back in. His large hands wrap around her thighs, massaging the skin there to only increase the pleasure sheâs feeling. His tongue is absolutely relentless, fucking in and out of her like a man starved. And from what sheâs seeing, he might as well have been. With one more strong flick of his tongue, the coil inside her belly snaps. Y/Nâs head flies back into the lockers, a small thud from the impact reverberating around the room. She can feel the ache in the back of her head, but it barely crosses her mind as she rides out the wave of her orgasm.
Colby continues lapping up the mess she made, enjoying it way more than he probably should. He loves the way her legs shake, unable to even sit still as he coaxes her out of the land of ecstasy sheâs currently staying on. When she opens her eyes, theyâre fogged but glowing. He slowly rises up, careful not to hurt her.
Sheâs still trying to catch her breath when she sees the way his beard glistens with her essence. She canât help herself as she reaches forward, hands gripping the back of his neck as she pulls him in for another heated kiss. Their tongues clash wildly, her moaning against his mouth as she tastes herself on his tongue.
âWho do you belong to sweet girl?â He mumbles against her lips, a small growl in his voice. âTell me.â
In that moment, there was only one correct answer. She knew it, and so did he.
Colby had been watching her from the second she walked into the arena that night. Ever since what happened in the locker room, something in him had shifted. He couldnât let her out of his sight for long, and didn't want to. It was like heâd finally sunk his teeth into something heâd been craving for far too long, and now he wasnât about to let anyone pry her away from him.
She was his.
From his spot near the production table, his eyes followed the curve of her back, the little tilt of her head as she chatted with another wrestler in the hallway. She smiled and Colbyâs chest tightened with something almost feral. That smile wasnât for them. It should never be for them. It should be for him.
And she knew it, too. Ever since the locker room incident, the way he got to taste her rearranged the air in his lungs. She hadnât pulled away. She hadnât run. If anything, she was leaning into him more, a subtle shift in the way she stood closer, the way her gaze lingered longer, the way her body instinctively tilted toward his. She wasnât scared of his claim. She liked it. He could see it in every flicker of her expression.
Heâd only looked away for a secondâ one damn second when a producer came over with notes about his segment. But when he glanced back across the hall, she was gone. Vanished.
His chest tightened, almost painfully, and he fished his phone out of his pocket, thumb flying over the screen.
Whereâd you go?
She didnât answer right away.
Answer me.
The second bubble appeared before he could stop himself. Obsession wasnât something he usually allowed to show so blatantly, but with herâit was impossible to hold back. When her reply finally came, his pulse slowed just enough to let air back into his lungs.
Iâm okay. I just got hungry.
Hungry. That was it. His jaw ticked as he shoved his phone back in his pocket and strode down the hallway. If she was hungry, then she wasnât going to do a damn thing about it herself. That was his job now.
By the time she reached the catering table, her plate still empty, Seth stepped in beside her. He didnât announce himself. He didnât need to. His presence was heavy, unmistakable.
She looked up at him, startled for half a second before her mouth curved in a knowing smile. âYou followed me?â
âI didnât like you just disappearing on me,â he said lowly, voice gravel edged. âDonât do that again.â
Her brows lifted, teasing. âI told you I was hungry.â
âYou couldâve told me before you walked away.â He plucked a plate from the stack and started filling it with food, her favorites, every single one. She blinked, realizing she hadnât ever mentioned half of them aloud. He just knew.
When he finished, he set the plate in her hands. His gaze pinned hers, dark and unyielding. âYou donât have to do anything on your own. Thatâs why Iâm here. Let me take care of you.â
Something in her chest cracked open at the words, heat rushing beneath her skin. She couldnât even come up with something witty to deflect with, not when his sincerity was this raw, this bare. So instead, she set the plate down on the nearest counter and grabbed his wrist, tugging him down the hallway without a word.
âY/Nââ he started, but the urgency in her grip stopped any protest. He didnât resist. He followed, silent and coiled, until she shoved open the first empty door and pulled him inside.
The second the door clicked shut, she spun, closing the space between them. Her lips crashed against his, fierce and hungry. For a moment, he froze, startled, not at the kiss itself, but at how reckless, how desperate it was. Then his hands were in her hair, pulling her closer, answering her heat with his own.
When he finally broke the kiss, breathless, he pressed his forehead against hers. âThought you were hungry,â he rasped, voice rough with something more than amusement.
âI am,â she whispered back, lips brushing his jaw. Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him down to her. âJust not for food anymore.â
His laugh was low, almost disbelieving, like he couldnât quite wrap his head around how much she matched him now. His thumb traced her jaw, tilting her face so he could see her eyes. The way sheâs staring at him makes his stomach twist. Desire. Gratitude. Something that went deeper than either.
And Colby knew, without her saying a single word, that she was about to show him exactly how much she appreciated the way he cared for her.
He blinked and suddenly she was on top of him, bottoms and panties discarded somewhere in the empty room. She barely managed to get his own pants and underwear to his ankles before she was sinking herself down on him. She knew they wouldnât have much time, being at work runs the risk of everyone hearing what theyâre up to, but that didnât seem to deter them in the slightest.
Her hands were everywhere. Worshipping and praising every part of him as she impales herself on his length. Colby groans into her hair, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she increases the pace. He can feel the way her walls squeeze him, almost like sheâs trying to milk him for everything heâs got.
He meets her bouncing with one particularly harsh thrust causing a rather loud moan to leave her lips. He laughs cockily, âGotta be careful, babyâŠâ he teases, not genuinely caring if she gets any louder. âDonât want anyone else to hear how grateful you are for me, do you?â
Y/N lets out a shaky breath, continuing to ride him like itâs the only thing she knows how to do. âDonât care,â she admits, the words broken up between each bounce. She loves the way he practically bruises her cervix, reaching depths no man has ever been able to touch. âWant them to know.â
Colby raises an amused eyebrow, growling momentarily as she leans down to kiss his chest. She feels so fucking perfect around him. It almost makes him forget heâs the one in control whenever he sees the way her pussy swallows his cock. âYeah?â He teases, sinking his fingers into her side a little deeper. Without warning he starts pummeling into her, stopping her movements all together. Y/N gasps as he quickens the pace, his dick hitting that spongy spot inside of her over and over and over. âYou want everyone to know that I fucking own you? That you like getting fucked where anyone could walk in and see how much you need me?â
Y/N moans his name soft, needy, like itâs the only thing sheâs been programmed to say. She can feel herself approaching the finish line. Colby snaps his hips harshly forcing her to cry out once more.
âAnswer me,â he commands, starting to lose control himself.
âYes,â she cries out, falling into his chest. She places desperate kisses along his jaw, trying to distract herself so she doesnât make any more loud noises. She can hear producers and other talent walking around outside, completely oblivious to whatâs going on behind this door. âFucking need you so bad,â she babbles. âLet them know. See how good you fill me up.â
She sucks a mark into his neck, one of many, that makes him growl lowly. He smacks her ass roughly causing her to grind into him. He laughs at how well he knows her body. Sheâs always tried to act like this innocent, sweet girl. But he always knew. He knew the depths of her depravity long before she did. Thatâs why sheâs his.
âNo one ever gets to touch you like this,â he tells her, Y/N arching her back as his thrusts begin to falter. âYouâre mine. Forever. Do you understand me?â
Y/N nods her head, a broken yes leaving her mouth as her climax finally hits. His name is the only thing leaving her lips as her pussy clenched around him. Colby curses, the feeling of that vice-like grip sending him over the edge. He spills inside of her, his seed mixing with her arousal. He continues thrusting in and out of her, guiding them both through their high. She buries her face into his neck, breathing in his signature scent like itâs the only thing keeping her alive.
He holds her there, eyes trained on the way his seed spills out of her. Watching the collective mess they made is enough to make him ready for a round two. But he knows better. He wonât push his girl further than what sheâs capable of right now. He can see how tired she is and she still has a match later on tonight. So he simply runs a hand through her hair, placing a soft kiss to her forehead.
âThank you,â she mumbles against him. âFor taking care of me.â
Colby grins softly. She finally understands. Why heâs done everything he has⊠it was all for her. âThatâs all I ever wanted to do, sweet girl. Take care of whatâs mine.â
Y/N sat on one of the production crates backstage, her gear still clinging to her skin with that post-match stickiness. Her body was tired, but her mind buzzed in that restless way it always did after a fight. For once, she wasnât with Colby. Heâd been pulled into a production conversation across the arena, and sheâd relished the sliver of freedom to just⊠breathe. She tugged on the cap of her water bottle when a voice pulled her attention. âY/N.â
Bron stood there. Not the explosive, cocky Bron Breakker the crowd cheered for, but a quieter version. Shoulders slumped, eyes dim, like the life had been drained out of him. She blinked. âHey. Whatâs up?â
âCan we talk?â His voice cracked a little, raw in a way that instantly pricked at her chest.
Her first instinct was to shut it down. To shake her head, to tell him no. She could already feel the heat of Colbyâs disapproval if he found out. And there was the other side of it, protecting Bron himself. He didnât deserve the kind of storm that came with standing too close to her now. But then she saw his eyes. That desperate, begging look that made him seem younger than he was, stripped down to something human and hurting.
âYeah,â she murmured. âOkay.â
They slipped down one of the quieter hallways, away from the noise of crew and wrestlers, until it was just them in the dim light. Bron leaned against the wall, arms crossed like he was holding himself together. âI canât keep doinâ this,â he admitted, shaking his head. âWatchinâ you like this. Pretendinâ Iâm fine with it.â His voice was low, husky with exhaustion. âIâm still scared for you, Y/N. Every damn day.â
She swallowed hard, unsure what to say. He let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. âHell, even Punkâs been cominâ to me. Askinâ me if youâve said anything about needing an escape. Or an out. A way to leave him. You got Punk worried, and that ainât easy to do.â
Her chest tightened. Sheâs seen Punk when sheâs talking to Colby. Always on the outskirts, lurking with those sharp eyes that saw more than she ever wanted him to.
âI barely even see you anymore,â Bron pushed on. âUnless itâs in the ring. Colby doesnât do the group meetings, doesnât let us be in the same room. He tells us stuff one-on-one now, just so we donât cross paths. You donât think thatâs messed up?â
She wanted to argue. To say it wasnât like that. But deep down, she knew he was right. She had noticed it. Colby wasnât careless; every step he took was deliberate. Heâd built this little cage around her piece by piece, and somehow, she hadnât fought him. Bronâs jaw flexed, his voice softer now. âHeâs keepinâ you from your friends. From me.â
Her throat went dry. Because it wasnât like she didnât miss him. She did. Bron had been a constant, someone whoâd known her before all this had gotten so complicated. And seeing him standing there, his heart written all over his face, it chipped away at her happiness in ways she didnât want to admit. But then there was Colby. Colby, who consumed her, who made everything feel so terrifyingly real. With him, she didnât just feel alive, she felt like she couldnât breathe without him. It was dangerous, maybe even wrong, but it was what she wanted.
She dragged her gaze back to Bron, and he was watching her, searching her face like he could find the truth buried there. Her eyes softened. âBronâŠâ she whispered, stepping closer. âI know it doesnât look good. And I know youâre just trying to look out for me. But when Iâm with himâ it doesnât feel like a cage. It feels⊠real. Like this is where Iâm supposed to be.â
He let out a harsh exhale, dragging his hands down his face. âThatâs crazy, Y/N. You hear yourself? You know it sounds crazy.â His voice cracked with frustration, not anger. âHeâs cutting you off from everyone who gives a damn about you, and youâre calling that love.â
She swallowed hard, tears pricking her eyes. âMaybe it is crazy. But I want it. I want him.â
Bronâs jaw clenched. He looked at her like sheâd just ripped his heart out. For a moment, he didnât say anything, just stared at her, trying to memorize her face like this. Then he shook his head slowly. âYou know, if it wasnât for him,â he murmured, voice low and pained, âyou and me⊠we probably wouldâve had a shot.â
The words gutted her. She reached out instinctively, laying her hand on his arm. âDonât say that.â
âItâs true,â he said, eyes shining with something raw. âI care about you, Y/N. More than Iâve said. More than you probably even realized. And watching him sink his claws into you, watching you disappear into his world⊠itâs tearing me in two.â
Her lips parted, but the words caught in her throat. She did care for him. Deeply. If Colby hadnât gotten there first, if things had been different⊠maybe, yeah, she and Bron could have been something real, something steady.
But she couldnât let go of Colby now. Not when every cell in her body screamed for him. âIâm sorry,â she whispered.
Bron gave a tight, broken nod. His shoulders sagged in defeat as he pulled her into a hug, holding her like it was the last time. She clung back, tears threatening to spill. When he finally pulled away, he didnât look at her again. Just shoved his hands in his pockets, jaw tight. âI guess thatâs my answer.â
And then he walked away, leaving her in the stairwell with her heart split clean down the middle.
The car was quietâ too quiet. Normally, Y/N couldnât get a word in edgewise when she and Colby were together. Heâd interrupt with some smart remark, tease her about whatever tangent she was going on, or counter with an opinion so ridiculous it made her laugh until her stomach hurt. But tonight, the silence was pressing in.
She sat in the passenger seat, curled toward him with her knees pulled up, chattering on about some silly moment from her match, filling the space because he wasnât. Her words fell into the quiet like pebbles dropped into deep water. No splash. No echo. Just silence.
Finally, her smile faltered. âColb?â she asked softly, peeking over at him. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, the tendons in his forearm flexing with every small adjustment he made to keep them steady on the road. âWhatâs wrong?â
He didnât answer right away, jaw ticking. He shook his head slightly, muttering, âItâs nothing.â
But she knew him better than that. His whole body was tense, like a rubber band stretched too far. Y/Nâs voice gentled, low enough to slide beneath his guard. âHey. Talk to me. Please.â
The way she said please cracked something in him. His shoulders stiffened, then he exhaled hard through his nose. âI saw you,â he ground out finally. âBack there. With Bron.â His voice was low, sharp. âSaw you two tucked in the hallway like it was some big secret. Saw the way you looked at him. Likeââ His hands tightened on the wheel. âLike you were breakinâ in half just beinâ around him.â
Y/Nâs lips parted, heart lurching. Sheâd known he mightâve noticed, but hearing the raw edge in his voice made her chest ache. Colby let out a humorless laugh, finally glancing her way with wild, golden-brown eyes. âI leave you alone for thirty seconds and then suddenly heâs got his arms around you like I wonât rip him in half for doing it.â His tone rose, a flare of anger laced with desperation. âSo what the hell was that about huh? What did he say to you?â
She didnât flinch, didnât look away. Instead, she leaned across the console, closing the space between them with a steadiness that cut right through his fury. Her lips brushed his cheek in a soft, grounding kiss.
Colby froze, his breath catching. Her hand found his arm, the one not gripping the wheel, and squeezed gently. âHe just asked me if I was happy,â she said quietly. Honest. Solid. âAnd I told him I am. Because I am, Colby.â
He flicked his gaze to her, searching her face, suspicion and need warring in his eyes. She smiled, small but certain. âBeing with you⊠it makes me happy. It scares him, and it probably doesnât make sense to anyone else. But to me? It feels right. It feels real.â She swallowed hard, thumb brushing over his tense forearm. âSo Bron and I⊠we probably wonât talk anymore outside of work. Because I donât need him. I donât need anyone else. Iâve already chosen.â
The words landed like gasoline on a flame. He hadnât expected thatâher cutting Bron off on her own, giving herself to him without him even asking. It knocked the air out of him, left his possessiveness burning but satisfied.
Colbyâs grip loosened on the wheel as he let out a slow breath. His smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were still blazing, softer now, molten instead of fire. âYeah?â he muttered, his voice husky. âYouâve chosen, huh?â
âI have,â she whispered.
He chuckled, shaking his head, but there was no humor in it. Just relief, disbelief, and that dangerous edge that always came with him. âGod, you drive me insane, yâknow that?â He finally reached over, dragging his hand from the wheel just long enough to lace his fingers with hers. His palm was warm, solid, claiming. âBut⊠Iâm happy too. Happiest Iâve ever been.â
Y/Nâs chest swelled at the admission. She let her head fall lightly against his shoulder, and for the first time all night, the silence wasnât heavy. It was full.
The set was all lights, laughter, and polished charm, the kind of place where Seth Rollins thrived. He had one arm draped across the back of the couch behind Y/N, his other hand casually tangled with hers like he had no intention of letting go. Every time she shifted, he followed, thumb rubbing across her knuckles in a way that looked effortless but very deliberate.
Jimmy leaned forward with that trademark grin. âAlright, Iâve got to sayâ you two are on fire right now. Seth Rollins wins Money in the Bank, Y/N L/N wins the Intercontinental Championship, and both Bron Breakker and Bronson Reed are on their way to great things. Thatâs a lot of power under one roof. How does it feel holding all the cards?â
Seth threw his head back with a laugh. âJimmy, it feels like destiny, baby! Thisâ this right here, look at usâ itâs not just power, itâs dominance. Weâre not just collecting gold, weâre collecting history.â He leaned forward, hand slicing through the air, then tilted his head toward Y/N with a grin. âBut hey, sheâs the one walking around with that shiny new championship, why donât you ask her how it feels?â
Y/N smiled, shifting the belt on her shoulder so it gleamed under the lights. âHonestly? It feels surreal. I worked my ass off for that moment. Lyra pushed me harder than anyoneâs pushed me in a long time, but walking out with thisâŠâ She tapped the faceplate with her nails. âThat made it worth it. And now, Iâve got Becky Lynch knocking at my door, so clearly, the work doesnât stop. But thatâs the way I like it.â
The crowd broke into cheers at Beckyâs name, and Sethâs grin widened like he was feeding off the noise. âOoooohhh, Becky Lynch! You hear that, Jimmy? Thatâs the kind of fight people pay to see. Thatâs main-event level right there.â
Y/N nudged him with her elbow, laughing. âYouâre not wrong. But hey, youâve got LA Knight breathing down your neck now, so donât act like Iâm the only one with problems.â
The crowd laughed as Seth clutched his chest theatrically. âYeah, yeah, LA Knight thinks heâs slick, thinks he can just walk into my business? Well, let me tell you, Jimmy, money in the bank means Iâm walking around with a target, but it also means Iâm holding the key. Any time, any place, I can flip the script. Thatâs pressure for everybody else, not me.â
Jimmy chuckled, glancing down at their hands still locked together. âYou two are very⊠close, huh?â
Y/N raised a brow, playful. âWhat are you implying?â
âWell, I canât help but notice something shiny on your finger.â Jimmy leaned in, pointing at her hand. The crowd gave a collective gasp when the camera zoomed in on the unmistakable ring.
Sethâs laugh came out like a bark, sharp and delighted. âAh, wellâ looks like the catâs outta the bag, huh?â
The cheers shook the studio, but Seth barely seemed to hear them. His eyes were locked on Y/N, hand tight around hers like he didnât even notice he hadnât let go once. His grin curved sharp, but his voice dropped low, softer, more grounded than the showy bravado he usually carried. âYou see this?â he lifted their joined hands, the ring flashing under the lights. âThis isnât just for show. Thisâ this is forever.â
The audience roared, some fans shrieking, some gasping. Y/N laughed, shaking her head, but the way she leaned into him betrayed her smile. She tits her head. âI guess the secretâs out,â she said, her voice warm but firm, carrying over the crowd. âWe didnât plan to say anything yet, but⊠here we are.â
Jimmy tried to cut back in, rattling off a question about timing, but Seth didnât let go of her gaze. His grin softened at the edges, tilting almost tender. He dipped his head just close enough that their foreheads brushed, his mic catching just enough of the words meant mostly for her.
âSheâs mine. Always.â
The crowd erupted again, and this time Y/N kissed him first, quick, but certain. The cameras caught it, the glint of gold from their championships, the ring flashing between their hands, the chaos of fans screaming in disbelief.
No explanation. No justification. Just the two of them, locked together against the noise of the world.
wwerollins
liked by bronbreakkerwwe, itsmebayley, archerofinfamy, and 66,987 others
tagged: y/s/nwwe
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beckylynchwwe: âCongrats, champ. Keep your head up.â đ„
| wwerollins: She always does.
reallaknight: âYEAH, big win. Just remember, itâs your belt, not his.â đ
| wwerollins: Funny, coming from a guy with no gold to his name.
bronbreakkerwwe: âProud of you. You earned that moment.â
| wwerollins: We know. Sheâs a star.
itsmebayley: âChamp đ€âšâ
carmelo_wwe: âAll Iâm saying is, donât let nobody take credit for your shine.â
| wwerollins: Donât worry, Melo. Iâm the one making sure she shines.
archerofinfamy: âCongratulations, hermana. Big things coming for you.â
TW: This is my first time trying out a darker themed fic. Colby is obsessed with reader in this one. If it makes you uncomfy please donât feel like you have to read. SMUT! MDNI!!! Oral (f receiving), public sex, pnv, creampie, choking, etc. it gets dirty yâall.
Also, this is part 1. This fic is too damn long to make into one part lol
Edit: Iâm very sorry for removing this story. I reread it and found that I didnât like a few sections. So I went back and rewrote them/added a few things. Thank you all for your patience đ
Y/N never expected to be called into Paul Levesqueâs office the Monday Night Raw after WrestleMania. She hadnât had a match at the biggest event of the year for their profession. When things had started out, she was supposed to win the Royal Rumble but Charlotte Flairâs return had gotten in the way of that, so Y/N and Tiffanyâs feud had to be postponed until after Mania season. Sheâs had storylines here and there but nothing dramatic enough to carry over to WrestleMania. She had a tiff with Liv, but she was already set up for the tag match with Raquel against Lyra and Becky. This took precedent because it was going to lead to Beckyâs heel turn. Her and Rhea had an alliance going on up until this point, but there was no way to include Y/Nin the triple threat, so she had no choice but to sit out.
It wasnât terrible. She didnât mind watching her friends succeed. Sheâs young and has already been in every WrestleMania since being called up from NXT three years ago. Missing one wonât kill her, even though it did sting slightly watching from the boxes rather than being in the ring.
So when one of the producers said Paul needed her, she couldnât think of what for. She had a match later that night, she knew that. But the arena opens in about four hours and heâs calling her in. Perhaps a change in the story, a different outcome of who would win, but she wasnât sure. She just hoped she wasnât being taken off the card all together.
âHey kid, have a seat,â he gestures to the chair in front of his desk. He takes a seat in his own chair, looking at her with a slight smile on his face. Y/N was one of the lucky ones. She got to see that warm grin on his face more often than not. She didnât know if it was because he saw something in her or if he just found her entertaining, but she was grateful for whatever caused it.
âMark said you wanted to talk to me about tonight?â Y/N says, her voice slightly wary as she takes a seat across from him.
âYeah, just a quick change in the program, nothing to be concerned about,â he waves off, organizing a stack of papers on his desk. âWe decided to cut your match.â
Y/Nâs heart sinks. She knows her facial expressions betrayed her, the smile she had been sporting suddenly fading away into a disappointed frown. She didnât get a match at Mania, and now she doesnât even have one on Raw.
Paulâs smile only grows, âRelax, Y/N/NâŠâ he assures. âYouâre still on tonight, just not in the way you think.â
Y/N furrows her brows, âWhat do you mean?â
âWe have a plan for you,â he begins, voice resembling an ominous movie villain. âItâs big, important. And tonight is the night everything comes together.â
Y/N patiently waits for him to continue explaining. Her foot bounces up and down, her nerves growing by the second. Clearly itâs big if heâs making this much of a deal out of it. Sheâs never been one to say no to anything. Whatever storyline they hand her, she accepts it with grace, and she plans to do the same here.
âWeâre introducing a new faction,â he reveals. âOne that weâre hoping propels your career to new heights.â
Y/N tilts her head with intrigue. She never really pegged herself as the faction type. Ever since joining WWE, her character has always been a solo player. She had alliances and worked with others when necessary, but she held her own. She liked it better that way, leading herself through the fire, not following someone else.
âWhoâs faction?â She finally asks.
âSeth Rollins,â Paul tells her, gauging her reaction.
He can tell heâs caught her off guard by the way she shifts in her seat. She wasnât expecting it. Good⊠that will keep things interesting. The more sheâs enticed by the idea, the more likely sheâll say yes.
âIâm assuming you saw everything that happened night one, correct?â He asks and she nods. âWell, now that heâs aligned with Paul, both of them have a vision for the future. Of course, itâs going to be a major push for him, but Colby and Paul have always been focused on propelling this business forward. So they want this to be an opportunity for the people they view to be the future of the company.â
Y/N connects the dots, her eyebrows going into her hairline. âMe?â She points to herself in a shocked manner.
Paul canât help but chuckle at her shock, âYeah, you,â he confirms. âThey see something in you. They see your potential. But donât worry, theyâre not recruiting just you.â He pushes a file with the story laid out in front of her.
Y/N pulls it closer and reads the other name, âBron?â She looks back up to Paul curiously.
âThey want both of you. Think you guys could end up main-eventing WrestleMania, being the quarterbacks of the company when all of these old dogs are gone,â he continues on. âAnd personally, I agree. Which is why both of you are interfering in him and Punkâs segment tonight.â
Y/N leaned back in the chair, still processing everything Paul had just laid out for her. âI mean⊠wow. Thatâs huge. Butââ she hesitated, chewing on her lip. âPaul, Iâve spent the last three years building me. My character, my voice, my style. If I suddenly just⊠join a faction, especially Sethâs, wonât it undo all that work? I donât wanna become someoneâs sidekick.â
Paul chuckled quietly, leaning forward, forearms resting on the desk. âKid, listen to me. Youâre not losing anything. Youâre not getting watered down, youâre not getting shoved in the background. Youâre still you, weâre just adding gasoline to the fire you already lit. You with Seth and Bron? Thatâs not you being overshadowed. Thatâs you standing next to two guys who can help push you into an even bigger spotlight.â
She frowned, still not totally sold. âAnd I still get to wrestle like normal? Fight my own matches, go for title shotsâŠ? Because if this turns into me just walking to the ring behind Seth like a glorified hype womanââ
Paul raised his hands in mock surrender. âYouâve got my word. You still work singles programs, you still go after gold, you still cut your own promos. Hell, Seth wants you talking. Your mic workâs one of the reasons youâre in this position. The only difference now is when you walk out there, youâve got more danger, more presence, and a faction that makes every opponent think twice about messing with you.â
Y/N sighed, tapping her fingers against her thigh. âAnd I still get to have a say in my promos? Iâm not reading someone elseâs words?â
Paul smirked. âIf I ever tried to hand you a script, youâd throw it back at me before I finished talking. Youâll still have freedom. Youâll just be aligned with a vision thatâs gonna make you look like a killer.â
She studied him for a long moment, searching for any hint that this was just another corporate pitch. But his expression stayed the same â confident, steady, certain.
Finally, she let out a long breath and shrugged. âAlright⊠fine. Iâll do it. But if I end up stuck in the background while Seth plays fashion show, Iâm walking.â
Paul grinned, the kind of grin that said he already knew she was going to kill it. âDeal. Now go get ready. Big night for you, kid.â
Y/N kept her head down as she wove through the crowd, hood pulled so low it shadowed most of her face. The smell of popcorn and spilled beer clung to the air, blending with the faint bass thump of the theme music echoing from the ring. Security didnât give her a second glance, to them, she was just another fan heading back from the merch stand.
Her chest buzzed faintly, the way it always did before a cue. Somewhere out there, Seth was already in the ring. She could almost hear his laugh through the noise of the crowd, the kind of sharp, unbothered sound that somehow still carried confidence even when he was trying to be a thorn in someoneâs side. She shook her head, pushing the thought away.
She kept moving until a voice cut clean through the hum. âY/N L/N, sneakinâ around like youâre tryinâ to rob the place.â
She turned her head just enough to catch a broad-shouldered figure leaning against the barricade, hood pulled low. Bron Breakker.
A small, involuntary smirk tugged at her mouth. âGuess Iâm not the only one.â
Bronâs grin was quick, teeth flashing under the shadow of his hood. âNah, Iâm just here keepinâ a low profile. ButâŠâ His gaze swept over her, not in a way that lingered too long, but enough that she caught it. ââŠIâm not mad I ran into you.â
She raised a brow. âThat supposed to mean something?â
He shrugged, casual, like he wasnât even thinking about it. âJust sayinâ. Havenât seen you in a while. Youâve been makinâ some noise lately. Itâs hard not to notice.â
Y/N let out a short laugh, shaking her head. âYou make it sound like Iâm a headline.â
Bron tilted his head, watching the ring crew across the way move into position. âYou kinda are. Not everyone gets crowds as loud as you do this fast. Youâve got âem.â
She glanced at him sideways. âYou always give compliments this easy?â
âNot really,â he admitted, a corner of his mouth quirking. âBut I figure, since weâre gonna be workinâ together for a bit⊠I might as well let you know when youâre killinâ it.â
It wasnât heavy-handed, but it left her with a little grin she tried to hide.
Before she could answer, the arena lights shifted and CM Punkâs music hit. The pop was deafening. In the ring, Punk came out swinging, no hesitation, no buildup, just a straight charge at Seth. The two collided like theyâd been waiting all night to tear each other apart, fists flying, boots slamming into the mat. Seth fought back with that signature defiance, but Punkâs rage was relentless, backing him into the corner and unloading a flurry of stomps and punches.
Bron muttered under his breath, âLook like our guyâs gettinâ worked over.â
âLooks like itââ she started, but the words caught when Seth shoved Punk off him, hair coming loose from its bun in the scuffle. A wild strand clung to the sweat on his jaw, and damn if he didnât look⊠good. Too good, maybe. She kept her eyes forward, pretending she wasnât noticing.
Punk turned on Paul Heyman, stalking him into the opposite corner. Heymanâs hands flew up, voice high as he tried to redirect the blame, but Punk was in his space fast.
Then Seth was there. A yank on Punkâs shoulder, a rake to the eyes, and a brutal stomp that had the older manâs head snapping to the mat.
Y/Nâs stomach did that little twist again as Seth stood there in the center of the ring, hair completely loose now, chest rising and falling. That dangerous glint in his eyes made it hard to look away.
Heyman scrambled for the mic. âLadies and gentlemen⊠the NEW number one starâSETH! FREAKINâ! ROLLINS!â
The declaration barely left his lips before Roman Reignsâ music shook the building. Sethâs expression shifted instantly, a muttered curse, a flash of irritation, and he shoved Punk out of the ring to clear space.
Roman took his time coming down the ramp, but the moment he hit the apron, he exploded forward. Seth swung first, Roman ducked, and the spear hit so clean it looked like it knocked the wind straight out of him.
Seth rolled to the outside clutching his ribs. Heyman wasnât so lucky. Superman punch. Heyman hit the mat like a dropped sack of bricks. Roman paced back, eyes locked on his next target, a spear lined up for the kill.
Bron glanced at Y/N. âThatâs us.â
They vaulted the barricade in unison. Bron hit Roman first, a spear that sent the crowd into chaos, and Y/N followed immediately, planting her boot in a spinning stomp that drove Roman to the mat.
The noise was deafening. They tore off their hoodies, the reveal electric. Bron shouted loudly, patting on his chest for emphasis. Y/N simply smirked, eyes taking over the audience with that signature attitude thatâs gotten her so far. Everyone was screaming. Some in disbelief, others in anger, even some excitement.
Thatâs when Seth slid back into the ring, low stance, ready for anything. His eyes flicked between them, but they kept coming back to Y/N. A second too long. Just enough for her to notice.
The air felt thicker. She didnât move. Neither did he. It was like they were waiting to see who would blink first.
Then she sprinted, straight past him, and caught Punk who had silently climbed back in the ring with a swinging neckbreaker. The thud was sharp, and Punk sprawled across the mat.
When Y/N turned back, Seth was already watching her. Really watching her. His tongue slid across his bottom lip in thought before a slow grin curved his mouth. He stepped closer, leaning down just enough to press a kiss to her temple. His hand caught her waist for half a beat longer than necessary.
âNice work, sweetheart,â he said, voice low enough for only her to hear.
He waved Bron over, looping an arm around his shoulder too. âYou both just made my night.â
Bron grinned, and thatâs when Seth pointed to Roman was who was struggling to his feet outside the ring. He instructs Bron to take care of him, the young Superstar all to eager to do his part. But before he could get very far, Roman cracked him with an uppercut at ringside. Bron recovered quickly, circling the ring at the speed of sound before flooring Roman with a massive spear.
âGet him in here!â Seth barked, and Bron dragged Roman back into the ring. âGet his ass in here!â He shouts.
Bron does as heâs told. He drags Romanâs limp body into the ring, holding his head up so he can see and hear everything Seth is about to do. The Visionary cackles, talking his smack to the Tribal Chief. Suddenly he turns back to Y/N again, that smirk curling like a dare. âAll yours.â
She didnât hesitate. Her own wicked smirk forms as she spins on her heel. Punk was just sitting up, and she drilled him with another vicious stomp.
Sethâs cackle rang loud enough to be picked up on the hard camera before he stepped in and stomped Roman himself.
He dragged both rising stars to the center of the ring, raising Y/Nâs and Bronâs arms high as the crowd roared.
The hallway backstage buzzed with the muffled roar of the crowd, a constant undercurrent that neither of them could escape. Y/N moved through it like a shadow, hood pulled low over her face, shoulders straight, every step measured. Colbyâs eyes had been on her the moment the ring emptied, and he hadnât been able to look away since. At first, he told himself it was about her skill, the way sheâd executed that stomp like it belonged to her. But the truth was, it was her. Her.
He stepped closer, closing the space until the subtle brush of their arms made his chest tighten.
âNot bad out there,â he said, voice casual, even a little teasing, though his stomach churned with something sharper. âAlmost makes me worry you mightâve done the stomp better than me.â
Y/N turned her head slightly, the faintest hint of a smile playing on her lips. âPlease,â she said, shaking her head. âNo oneâs ever gonna outdo you. Iâm just lucky you let me even use it.â
Lucky? That word hit him harder than any punch heâd thrown in the ring tonight. He kept pace with her, careful not to stumble over his words, or the fact that every time she moved, every slight tilt of her head, it felt like gravity had shifted.
âLet you?â he echoed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. âI donât let anyone do anything like that. You make it look⊠good. Too good.â
Her lips twitched in amusement, but she didnât back down. She licked her bottom lip unconsciously as she glanced over at him, and his chest tightened. God, she doesnât even know what she does to me.
âYou think Iâm trying to distract you using your own moves, huh?â she asked, voice light, playful.
Colby laughed softly, a low, almost feral sound that didnât quite fit the casual tone. âDistracting? Maybe. But in a good way,â he said, eyes tracing the line of her jaw, the way her hair fell just so. âYou know, watching you hit something I tried so hard to perfect⊠makes it hard to focus on anything else.â
Her smirk softened, slower now, teasing replaced with something more deliberate. She didnât pull away. Didnât even blink. And Colby felt like he could stare at her forever. Every step, every subtle glance, felt like a countdown he didnât want to end.
âY/N!â
The sound of her name snapped them both out of it. Bronâs voice was coming from a few steps behind, and when they turned, he was already catching up. âYou heading back to the hotel?â he asked, tone easy and friendly, though his eyes flicked briefly between the two of them. âGot room if you wanna ride together.â
She hesitated for half a second, just enough for Colby to notice, before smiling. âYeah, thatâd be great.â
Bron nodded and fell into step beside her, the shift in formation forcing Colby to slow just a fraction. Y/N glanced back at him over her shoulder, her smile still warm, but her expression a touch unreadable. Colbyâs jaw tightened, but he forced a smile, because thatâs what he had to do. Polite. Cool. But inside, everything else was a storm. Sheâs mine. Not like this⊠not yet. But soon, sheâs mine.
âSee you later,â he said, voice steady, though his eyes lingered a second too long on her retreating figure.
As they walked off toward the elevator with Bron, Colbyâs jaw tightened. His thoughts ran faster than he could process. Every tilt of her head, every laugh, the way she brushed her hair from her face, it all pressed against him, made it impossible to act normal. She was dangerous, but not in the ring. Dangerous in the way she claimed his attention without even trying. And damn it⊠he was all in.
Just keep it together, Lopez. Sheâs not yours yet. But she will be.
The gym smelled of sweat and metal, the low hum of treadmills and the clank of dumbbells filling the room. Y/N stood at the deadlift station, bar loaded ridiculously heavy. Every movement was precise, effortless, she looked like she was barely trying, but Colby couldnât stop noticing every flex of her arms, every controlled breath. He had been watching from the doorway for several minutes now, debating how to walk over without looking like a creep, when he saw her smile.
Bron Breakker was beside her, hands hovering near her as he spotted her lifts, occasionally nudging her gently with encouragement. They were laughing, light, easy laughter that didnât belong in the tense, competitive world they shared. And Y/Nâs laugh⊠it hit Colby like a fist.
âWow, you really do make that look easy,â Bron said, adjusting his grip on the barbell. âI mean, seriously. I thought I could lift heavy⊠then I watched you, and suddenly I feel like Iâve been training with plastic weights my whole life.â
Y/N grinned, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. âYouâre not bad yourself, Breakker. But if weâre being honest, Iâm still gonna outlift you.â
Bron laughed, that deep, easy laugh that seemed to shake the air between them. âYeah, yeah, but youâre ridiculously good-looking while youâre doing it. Makes me almost think you missed your calling to be a personal trainer.â
Colbyâs jaw tightened. He leaned more heavily against the doorway, pretending to stretch, but his eyes never left them. Bronâs voice was low and teasing, his hand brushing against hers as he guided her form. Colbyâs chest tightened every time she laughed at something he said.
âYouâre always this smooth?â Y/N asked, smirking as she re-racked the bar.
âSmooth?â Bron tilted his head, mock offense in his tone. âNah, Iâm just honest. Someoneâs gotta point out when a machine like you is making the rest of us look bad.â
Y/N laughed, shaking her head. âHonest, huh? Well, I suppose I canât argue with that. But just so weâre clear, I donât let anyone show me up⊠even someone like you.â
Bron grinned wider, leaning a little closer. âSomeone like me, huh? Dangerous, unpredictable, and apparently ridiculously strong?â
âDonât get too full of yourself,â she said with a smirk. âIâve been in this company a while. I know how to handle people like you.â
âYouâve been here for like two years longer than me,â he rolls his eyes playfully.
âStill longer and more seasoned,â she quips in an almost sing-song voice.
Bron chuckled. âGuess weâll see about that.â
Colbyâs blood boiled. Every casual touch, every laugh, every tilt of her head toward Bron was a spark in the kindling of something he couldnât ignore. He wanted to storm over, to remind her exactly whose faction she was in, whose presence mattered. Instead, he turned to the weights, pretending to focus, though he could still hear every word.
Bron moved with her to the bench press, guiding her, joking about their upcoming segment. âYou excited about tonight? I mean, Paul Heyman and Seth Rollins of all people have this weird look in their eyes when they talk about us. Like weâre supposed to be the future or something.â
Y/Nâs brow lifted, eyes shining with a mix of excitement and disbelief. âItâs flattering⊠terrifying, honestly. I mean, Heyman sees something, sure, but Colby? The guyâs basically a legend. If he thinks weâre ready, then⊠wow. Itâs a lot to live up to.â
Bron nodded, chuckling. âYeah. But youâre not just ready, youâre one of the best Iâve ever seen. And letâs be honest, you make this all look too easy.â
Colbyâs fists tightened around his dumbbells. Too easy. Too easy for Bron to flirt, too easy for Y/N to laugh. His eyes never left her, tracking the curve of her jaw as she laughed, the way she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, the faint blush on her cheeks. He saw it allâthe admiration in her tone when she spoke about him, the pride she tried to hide when she mentioned him to Bron.
âI just hope I donât mess this up,â Y/N said softly, almost to herself. âI mean⊠Colby trusts us to make this work. And I donât want to let him down.â
Colby froze. She wasnât looking at him, but she was thinking about him. He could practically feel the pulse of her respect, the slight weight of her admiration, and it sent a rush through him. Bron, of course, didnât catch it, laughing again at something Y/N said.
âAnd you know,â she added, âseeing him trust us like this⊠itâs kinda inspiring. Makes me want to prove him right.â
Colbyâs lips twitched, half a smile, half a growl. Sheâs thinking about me. Sheâs noticing me. She doesnât even know what that means.
Bron clapped her on the shoulder, smiling wide. âWell, whatever happens, Iâm glad weâre doing this together. Canât wait to see what kind of chaos we unleash.â
Y/N laughed again, nodding. âYeah. Letâs make them remember our names.â
Colby dropped the dumbbells a little harder than necessary, the echo ringing in the gym. He moved to start his own set, but every rep was slow, calculated, his gaze locked on her. He could hear them joking, teasing, laughing, and each laugh made him grit his teeth, and smile just a little despite himself.
He knew one thing for certain: he was going to make sure the only man she felt the need to talk to was him.
Y/N sat cross-legged at one of the catering tables, nursing a bottle of water while her plate sat mostly untouched in front of her. Demi was leaning across the table, telling some ridiculous story about a fan at last weekâs house show, her hands moving wildly as she talked. Sydney was already laughing so hard she had to wipe at her eyes, while Rami shook his head like he couldnât believe any of it. Joshua was leaning back in his chair, grinning, and Bron sat at Y/Nâs side, his arm draped lazily over the back of her chair like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âIâm telling you,â Demi said between laughs, âwe need to run back our tag team. With everything going on, it could be you and me against Roxanne and Giulia. Imagine the chaos.â
Y/N grinned, shaking her head. âOh, youâre just saying that because you want to see me try to kick Roxanneâs head off again.â
Demi pointed at her, nodding with exaggerated seriousness. âExactly. And I wanna see your face when you realize Giulia doesnât care if she breaks your jaw.â
âShe wonât,â Y/N shot back, smirking. âBecause Iâll get her before she gets me.â
Bron chuckled beside her, low and easy. âThatâs my girl.â
It wasnât even anything over the top, just four little words, said in a way that made her cheeks heat, and she caught the way Sydneyâs brows lifted slightly, her mouth twitching like she wanted to say something but didnât. Rami and Josh traded a look that wasnât subtle, but they both kept their attention on their food.
Before Y/N could think too much about it, a familiar voice broke through the chatter.
âY/N.â
She turned, and there he was⊠Colby, standing just inside the doorway, his eyes not leaving her even once. There was something unreadable in his expression, but the sharpness in it softened slightly when her gaze met his.
âWalk with me,â he said. It wasnât a question.
Her chest tightened, her heart rate spiking so fast she swore he might be able to hear it. She didnât even think about saying no, she just nodded, muttering a quick, âOkay,â as she pushed back her chair.
Bronâs arm slid away from her shoulders, his eyes narrowing just slightly at Colby, but nothing was said. She followed Colby out of catering and into the quiet of the hallway, the hum of the arena in the distance. He didnât speak right away, and for some reason that made her more flustered.
âSoâŠâ she started, glancing sideways at him. âEverything okay?â
Thatâs when he glanced at her, really glanced, and the smile that curved his mouth was the exact one sheâd seen a hundred times on TV. âYeah. Better now.â
Her brow furrowed, the corners of her mouth tugging upward despite herself. âBetter now?â
âMhm.â He slowed his pace just slightly, enough so their steps fell into sync. âI want you to talk in our segment tonight. When we open the show.â
Her steps faltered. âWaitâ seriously?â
Colby nodded, eyes flicking over her like he was already picturing it. âI want you to talk back, use your mic skills. Donât hold back.â
She blinked at him, her brain stuttering to keep up. âYou⊠want me to talk?â
âIâve seen your promos,â he said, voice dipping low like it was meant just for her. âAll of âem. Youâre good. Really good. Youâve got that thing people canât teach. I just wanna see you let loose.â
The compliment landed somewhere deep, warming her from the inside out. She tried to play it off with a small shrug. âI didnât think youâd trust me with that so soon.â
His smirk widened, and it wasnât the one for cameras, it was softer, more dangerous. âIâve trusted you from the start.â
Her stomach did an unhelpful little flip. âIs Bron gonna say anything?â
Colbyâs expression flickered, just for a heartbeat, before settling back into something cool. âNope. Iâm trusting you to talk, thatâs all that matters.â
They rounded a corner, their shoulders brushing, and she became hyperaware of how close they were walking. He glanced down at her like he was cataloging every expression she made.
âYouâre seriously unfair,â she muttered without thinking.
His brow quirked. âUnfair?â
She waved a hand. âYou⊠you say stuff like that and then expect me to just be normal?â
He chuckled, low and warm. âWho says I want you to be normal?â
She scoffed lightly, looking ahead. âI think you enjoy making people nervous.â
âOnly you,â he said easily.
The words hit harder than she expected, but she told herself he was just being Colby, smooth, charming, saying whatever sounded good in the moment. Still, her cheeks heated and she looked away before he noticed.
âThank you,â she said finally, voice softer now.
Colby reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear, his fingers lingering just long enough to make her forget where they were. âStick with me tonight,â he murmured. âYouâre my right hand, and I donât wanna do much without you.â
Her breath hitched, but she nodded, leaning into his touch without even thinking about it. âOkay.â
Colbyâs smirk widened as he leaned just a little closer, his voice low enough that it felt like it belonged only to her. âYouâve been turning a lot of heads, you know. Paulâs impressed⊠Iâm impressed.â
Y/N blinked, trying to play it off with a shrug. âYouâre just saying that because you have to.â
He chuckled, slow and deliberate. âNo, sweetheart, I donât have to say a damn thing. Iâve been watching you.â
Her pulse spiked, and she hated how much she liked the way that sounded. She raised an eyebrow. âWatching me, huh? Thatâs not creepy at all.â
He tilted his head, dark eyes never leaving hers. âDepends on how you look at it. I call it⊠evaluating potential. Making sure no one wastes it. Youâve got more than potential, though. Youâve got that⊠edge.â
Y/N laughed, trying to keep it light even as heat crept up her neck. âEdge? Thatâs a new one.â
âMm.â Colbyâs gaze dipped briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. âItâs rare. And once I see something rare, I donât like sharing it.â
Her stomach flipped. âI didnât realize I belonged to you like that.â
âNot yet,â he murmured, and there was something in the way he said it, quiet, certain, that sent a shiver down her spine.
Y/N broke eye contact, fiddling with the strap of her gear bag to distract herself. âYouâve got a lot of people in your⊠whatever you call it. Iâm just another rookie.â
âNo,â Colby said, stepping in just enough to close the space between them, his cologne mixing with the faint scent of leather from his gloves. âYouâre the one who stood out. Youâre the one I noticed. And when I notice someoneâŠâ He let the words hang, slow and dangerous. ââŠI keep them close.â
Her breath caught, and she hated how much she didnât want to move away. âSounds like you collect people.â
He grinned, sharp and knowing. âOnly the ones worth collecting.â
And before she could come up with something smart to say back, he leaned just a fraction closer, not touching, but close enough that his presence wrapped around her like a hand at her back, guiding her where he wanted her to go.
âYouâll figure out soon enough,â he said, almost a promise, âitâs a lot better being in my pocket than anywhere else.â
Y/N cracks her neck as quietly as possible as she, Bron, and Paul stand behind Seth to wait for his music to hit. Bron is wearing a black suit, the spray on tan make up put on him before this being a shade too dark to look natural, but she wasnât going to tell him that.
The Unpredictable Badass glances at her, smiling softly in her direction. She smiles back, reaching over to squeeze his hand with hers. They might have not been friends for long, but she already trusts him immensely. Heâs sweet, cares enough to check if sheâs okay, tells her how great sheâs doing even when sometimes it doesnât feel like she is.
She opens her mouth to say something, but thereâs a burning sensation that makes the hairs on her arm stand up. She turns her head slightly to see Colby looking directly at them. He doesnât look angry, just stoic as always when heâs trying to get into character.
Colby clenches his fists, trying his hardest not to show the irritation he feels seeing her hold Bronâs hand. He wanted the kid in his faction, needed him to make this business great. But the more time Bron spends with Y/N, the more Colby wishes he wouldâve just feuded with the man instead.
But suddenly all of his anger dissipates as he watches the woman walk towards him. She has a small grin on her face, completely disregarding the fact she was holding Bronâs hand. She stops directly in front of him and Colby swears he stops breathing for a moment. Especially when he noticed the way her gold eyeshadow matches the the shimmering top she has on while simultaneously complimenting the engraved pattern on his jacket. He wonders if their outfits matching was intentional. He remembers picking out his jacket⊠perhaps someone guided her to pick something similar. Heâd have to thank them later if they did.
âYou okay?â She asks in a whisper, careful to listen for their cue. âYou look a little lost in your head.â
Colby just smiles back at her, shaking his head. âIâm okay, sweetheart. Just getting into character.â
âThatâs what I thought you were doing,â she admits, almost proud of herself for already being familiarized with his pre show routine only a week in. âBut I just wanted to check. Yâknow⊠as your right hand and all.â
He watches as her cheeks tint slightly, the bashful smile on her face growing. She likes it. She likes being his right hand. Itâs a step in the right direction. Because with a few gentle nudges, eventually sheâll like belonging to him all together.
Colbyâs eyes soften, his hand moving up, thumbing brushing against her cheek affectionately. He never realized how intoxicating her scent was until just now. It takes everything in him not to just lean his head down and nuzzle into her neck. âThank you,â he says gratefully. âBut donât worry your pretty little head about me. If somethingâs ever wrong, youâre the first person Iâll tell.â
Y/Nâs heart stutters, âYou mean that?â
âOf course,â Colby nods earnestly. âYouâre my girl, remember? Gotta tell my girl everything.â
Those words would naturally make anyone look at him funny. Calling her his girl after only being in his faction a week seemed a bit excessive. But Y/N couldnât help the desire to hear him say it again. She likes the fact he wants to tell her things. That sheâs this valuable to him this soon.
Thatâs when his music hits. He sends a playful wink her way as she walks back to her position. She and Bron plaster on their smug smiles, Heyman flanking Sethâs other side as they walk out to the loud crowd in the arena.
The energy was electric. Y/N couldnât believe how loud the fans were. She and Bron shared another quick grin, not expecting this reaction. Her smile only widens when she sees the amount of fans with some form of her merchandise on. She waves at a younger boy whoâs holding a sign in the front row with her logo on it.
The four of them walk to the ring after being announced by Alicia Taylor. Each of them take up a side of the ring, Seth dancing to his own music. He walks over, patting Bronâs chest. His music starts to die down and thatâs when he moves to grab a mic before waltzing right back over to where Y/Nâs standing, placing a nonchalant arm around her waist. Almost like he had done it a million times before.
Seth holds his microphone in the air, silently commanding the audience to continue singing his song. The patrons in the arena happily oblige, screaming at the top of their lungs to appease the Revolutionary that is Seth Freakinâ Rollins. But through all of this, his arm still stays wound around her waist.
âKansas City!â He screams into the microphone, being met with the enthusiastic cheers of the people around him. âWelcome to Monday Night Rollins!â Thatâs when he finally lets go of her, shrugging his shoulders as he bounces around the ring. âI am your host, I am a visionary, I am a revolutionary, I am Sethââ
FREAKINâ ROLLINS!!
The audience finishes for him. Y/N watches in awe, hoping one day that big of a reaction will be for her. That the fanbase she builds is as passionate as the one Seth built for himself. They adore him, and truthfully, she doesnât blame them. She was a fan of Seth when she herself was still rocking it on the indies.
âAnd in case you didnât know, youâve been living under a rock, you are looking at the winner of the main event of WrestleMania!â The cheers are even louder now, everyone thrilled to see how this story has played out. âAnd I knowâŠâ he takes off his sunglasses to hand them to Paul. âItâs a little difficult out there who still want to chant for CM Punk.â
A chorus of boos echoes throughout the arena. The reaction surprises everyone in the ring, none of them expecting the crowd to be against the Best in the World. They all assumed everyone would be supporting him, seeing as he was betrayed by Paul who was supposed to be in his corner. Seth has to stop himself from laughing. But once the boos quiet a bit, thatâs when the CM Punk chants start rolling through.
âI knew there were still a few of them out there. And I know it might be painful for some of you who want to put your fingers in the air for Roman Reigns,â he puts his one in the air mockingly. The crowd then starts chanting OTC. âBut what you are looking at in this ring right now is the future of our industry!â He claims confidently, the crowd cheering in agreement.
âThe future runs through one man. That man is not CM Punk. That man is not Roman Reigns. Hell, itâs not John Cena. Itâs not Jey Uso. Itâs not Cody Rhodes,â Seth rants passionately. âThe future of this industry, with Paul Heyman to my left, and Y/S/N and Bron Breakker to my right, the future of this industry runs through Seth Freakinâ Rollins!â
The pop from the crowd however doesnât last long for them as the familiar chords to Sami Zaynâs music starts playing. All four of them glance towards the entrance, feigning confusion and almost disbelief that Sami out of all people has the audacity to come out here and interrupt Seth.
He walks down to the ring, a serious look on his face. He doesnât dance around with the crowd like normal, clearly only here for business. He stares at the new faction before sliding into the ring and grabbing a microphone from one of the stagehands. Seth grins from ear to ear, assuming his long time friend has came out to celebrate with him.
âLadies and gentlemen, Sami Zayn!â Seth introduces.
A small shiver runs down Y/Nâs spine at the small growl in Sethâs voice. She mentally scolds herself. She needs to focus. Colby is providing her with an opportunity to cut a promo, to prove she can run in this faction, she needs to keep her head in the game. Her attraction to Colby is merely an obstacle. Something sheâll have to get over. Heâs a seasoned veteran. Someone who could get the attention of any woman he wanted. He believes in her to carry this business when heâs gone. Sheâs his protege, nothing more, nothing less.
âWelcome back, my man, you were out for such a long time.â Seth greets happily. âIt is good to see you back on Monday Night Raw!â He places a hand on Bronâs shoulder like an owner would his dog. He looks back at Sami, âI assume uhâ I assume you caught WrestleMania⊠right?â He grins, taking a step closer to Sami, his tone a humble brag.
Sami exhales disappointedly, âYeah⊠Yeah, Seth, I saw the main event of WrestleMania, very good.â He commends.
Seth canât help but get giddy, âAh, yeah.â He dances around a little, still waiting for that praise.
âHow long have we been friends? Long time, right?â Sami asks.
Seth nods, âLong time, long time.â
âOkay, I feel the need to come out here as a friend, as someone whose known you a very long time, and tell you to your face that thisââ he gestures between Heyman, Bron, and Y/N, âthis is a load of crap, man.â
Seth looks bewildered, glancing back at his newly formed group. âWhat are youâ Hey, hey. No, no, no, no, no. What are you talking about? What do you mean?â
Sami scoffs, âWhat do I mean?â
Seth shakes his head, âThis isnâtâ What are you talking about?â He asks, completely flabbergasted. He was expecting a friendly celebration and all he got was a confrontation.
âHow manyâ howâ how much time did you spend talking about CM Punk, talking about Roman Reigns, and then the one thing that those two guys have in common happens to be standing over your shoulder now?â Sami says logically, pointing over to Paul. The crowd cheers in agreement. Seth glances back and forth between Sami and the Oracle. Sami continues, âSo how are you any different?â
Seth puts his hand up, âWait, wait, wait a minute, youâreâyouâre not seriously comparing me to CM Punk and Roman Reigns,â he shakes his head. âHow can this not be different? Come on now.â
Sami laughs but thereâs no humor behind it, âFor the longest time, I really started to believe that you just had this deep anger, thisâ this deep hatred for CM Punk. And you sounded so self righteous when you were talking about Roman Reigns. But now Iâm starting to see that maybe⊠you were just jealous.â
Y/N knows itâs all part of the promo, but part of her canât help but feel angry on Sethâs behalf. Heâs worked hard to get here. She knows how he feels personally about CM Punk, so the fact the accusation of him being jealous of that man is even out in the world pisses her off immensely.
âMaybe you just wanted to be in the position that they were in.â Sami calls out.
Seth still canât believe this is what the conversation has devolved into. âSâSami, look, I am not CM Punk. I am not Roman Reigns. This is the vision for the future. You and me, weâve gone back many, many years talking about what that future would look like. This is ourââ
âOhâohâ oh, well isnât thatâ what a coincidence that is!â Sami cuts Seth off exasperatedly, throwing his hand in the air. âThat the vision for the future of the WWE, the vision of the future for this entire industry, for years to come, it all revolves around Seth Rollins being front and center.â
âItâs not a coincidence,â Seth denies, sure of himself, âIâm the best man for the job. You know this.â
âYeah, thatâs my point, Seth,â Sami talks over him bitterly. âThatâs my point, itâs not a coincidence⊠itâs hypocritical.â He points his finger directly in Sethâs face and Y/N can feel her time coming. She can feel her need to speak boiling over like a fiery sea. âAnd you spent all this time talking about The Bloodline this and The Bloodline thatââ
âThis is not the Bloodline!â Seth screams, his frustration finally reaching a fever pitch. âQuit comparing me to them!â
âHâhow is it different?!â Sami exclaims. âYouâve got the Wise Man right over there,â he gestures to Paul. âAnd then youâve got your little puppet and dog right over there,â he points to the other side towards Y/N and Bron. His eyes narrow on the Badass, âWho by the way if he keeps looking at me like that, is gonna get his face kicked in!â
Bron starts to lunge forward, the veins in his forearm tightening under his suit sleeve, but Y/N steps in before he can so much as take a step. She plants a firm hand on his chest, holding him back with a quiet authority that surprises even him.
âEasy,â she mutters, not breaking her glare from Sami. Her touch is steady, grounding him, even while she herself looks like sheâs about to explode.
The crowd is buzzing, waiting for something to happen. Sethâs smirk falters into something darker, curious, as he watches her step forward and lift the microphone to her lips.
âYouâve got some nerve, Sami,â Y/N starts, her voice sharp enough to cut through the noise. The crowd roars just from the bite in her tone. âComing out here, disrespecting himââ she jerks her thumb back toward Seth, âlike he hasnât carried this entire industry on his back when people like you couldnât hack it.â
Thereâs a rumble from the fans, split down the middle, some booing, some cheering. Sami raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised sheâs cutting in, but Y/N doesnât give him a chance to respond.
âYou wanna call me a puppet? You wanna call Bron a dog?â she sneers, pacing closer until sheâs toe-to-toe with him. âLet me make one thing crystal clear, Sami. Weâre not pawns. Weâre not charity cases. We are the vision for the future. And you?â She jabs her finger into his chest. âYou can either be smart enough to join us, or you can be stupid enough to stand against us.â
The crowd pops at the venom in her words, and Sethâs lips curl into something between pride and hunger. He leans against the ropes, watching her work, that arm-around-the-waist territory claim from earlier now feeling prophetic.
âSee, Seth might still love you like a brother,â Y/N continues, her voice rising. âHe might care about you enough to want whatâs best for you. But me? I donât care how long you two have been friends.â She shakes her head, her tone ice cold. âYou come at him like that again, and Iâll fight you myself. Because no oneâ and I mean no oneâ disrespects Seth Freakinâ Rollins and gets away with it.â
A wave of cheers crashes over the arena. The camera cuts to Sami, his jaw tightening, but Y/N doesnât flinch. She paces a slow circle around him, her presence commanding the entire building.
âThis is bigger than you. Bigger than me. Bigger than all of us,â she declares, passion dripping from every syllable. âSeth is building something thatâs going to outlast every single one of us standing in this ring right now. And if youâre not on board, then youâre not just an enemy to him, youâre a target to me.â
The audience gasps, eating out of the palm of her hand now. Seth exhales a low laugh into the corner of his mic, shaking his head, like he canât believe how effortlessly sheâs killing it. But his eyes never leave her, following every movement, every gesture, every ounce of fire sheâs putting out there.
She stops pacing, planting herself square in front of Sami. âNow, Iâm not unreasonable. There doesnât have to be a fight. We donât need to destroy whatâs left of this friendship, right?â she tilts her head, her words mocking but smooth. âThe Wise Manââ she gestures to Paul, who smirks knowinglyâ âcan pull a few strings. Get you moved to SmackDown. Fresh start. New stories to tell. No blood spilled.â
She leans in just close enough for her words to hit like venom. âBut if you stay here, Sami⊠if you choose to stand in our way? Then youâre going to be our next victim, and that isnât a threat.â She pauses, the crowd hanging on her every word. âThatâs a promise.â
The arena erupts, the noise deafening. Sami glares at her, mic halfway raised, but Y/N doesnât give him a chance. She lets the microphone slip from her hand, the thud of it hitting the mat punctuating her words like a gunshot.
And then, shockingly, her music hits. Her eyes widen for just a split second before she schools her face back into confidence, holding her head high as if it was always part of the plan. The fans lose their minds as her own theme hits rather than Sethâs, her own identity within this faction showing.
Without hesitation, she turns and walks out of the ring, her stride purposeful, commanding. Seth, Paul, and Bron fall in step behind her, Seth lingering just a heartbeat longer to cast one last look at Sami before following.
The camera catches Sethâs expression as he trails after Y/N. That smile of his is gone, replaced by something more dangerous, more predatory. Heâs always seen her as the sweet girl he picked up, but watching her tear Sami apart on the mic, watching her command a crowd like that? It lights a fire in him. Something he didnât know he wanted until now.
The curtain fell behind them, and Y/N felt like her heart was still sprinting even though her body had finally slowed. Her hands trembled as she ran them down her gear, the adrenaline still burning hot in her veins. Sheâd cut promos before, sureâbut this one? This one felt different. It felt like sheâd actually said something that mattered, like her words had landed the way they were supposed to. She was still trying to catch her breath when a familiar voice broke through the fog.
âWell, well, well.â Paul Heyman stepped forward, his eyes gleaming in that sly, calculating way that always made people lean in closer whether they wanted to or not. He adjusted the fold of his jacket with the same reverence he used when he talked about greatness. âThat⊠was spectacular. You didnât just talk out there, my dear, you commanded. You had that entire arena hanging on your every syllable, desperate for the next word to fall from your lips. Do you know how rare that is? How few Superstars in this business have ever possessed that kind of presence?â
Y/N felt her cheeks flush, trying not to shrink under his piercing stare. âI mean⊠thank you. I just said what I felt.â
Heymanâs smile was almost paternal, though sharp at the edges. âAnd that is precisely why it worked. Authenticity. Passion. You, my dear, are the brightest future this industry has seen in a very long time. The brightest. Remember this night. Mark it in your mind. Because twenty years from now, youâll look back and know that tonight was where it all began.â
Before she could even process that, he turned on his heel, already moving down the hall with a flourish, muttering to himself about destiny.
She exhaled, her chest heaving. âWow.â
âWowâs right.â
Her head snapped to the side where Bron Breakker was casually crossing over to her after talking with a producer, arms crossed, watching her with that boyish grin that always seemed to melt some of the roughness off his sharp features. His admiration wasnât slick or smothering, it was easy, genuine.
âYou killed it out there,â he said, coming closer. âLike, seriously. I could listen to you talk forever and never get tired of it. Youâve got this fire in you that just⊠man, itâs something else.â
The heat in her face spread faster than sheâd like to admit. âBronâŠâ she laughed nervously, shaking her head. âYouâre just saying that.â
He shrugged, smiling softer now. âI donât say stuff I donât mean. Youâre special, Y/N. I knew it before, but tonight proved it.â
She chewed her lip, glancing down at her boots. His sincerity made her stomach twist in ways she wasnât prepared for. Before she could think of something else to say, another voice cut in.
âWell, isnât this sweet?â
The tone alone made Bron stiffen. Colby approached with that confident, deliberate gait that always seemed to own whatever room he walked into. His smirk was sharp, his eyes glittering with something far less innocent than Bronâs admiration.
âBron, I think some people from makeup were lookinâ for ya,â Seth said casually, though his stare never left Y/N. âSomethinâ about that tanning product they used. Might wanna go clear that up before you start glowinâ in the dark, huh?â
Bronâs jaw tightened. âReally? Right now?â
âHey, donât shoot the messenger,â Seth chuckled, spreading his hands innocently. âIâm just sayinââthey asked for ya. Wouldnât wanna leave âem hanginâ.â
Bron looked back at Y/N, hesitation flickering in his eyes. He didnât want to leave her here, not with him. But he also couldnât exactly challenge Seth Rollins without a damn good reason. âAlright,â he muttered reluctantly. âIâll catch you later, Y/N.â
âYeah,â she said softly, smiling up at him. âThanks, Bron.â
Once Bron disappeared down the hall, Seth finally shifted his attention fully to her. The playful smirk didnât fadeâit deepened. He stepped closer, and before she knew it, his hand slid lightly across her lower back as he guided her down the corridor with him. She didnât even think to resist.
âYou were somethinâ else out there,â Seth murmured, his voice low and edged with something primal. âGod, the way you stood your ground, the way you looked Sami dead in the eye like you were ready to rip his head off⊠beautiful. You didnât have to do that, yâknow. You didnât have to step in. But you did. For me.â
Her breath hitched. âIâyeah, well, I wasnât gonna just stand there and let him run his mouth.â
âThatâs what I love about you.â He leaned in, his nose brushing against her temple as he pulled her closer. âYouâve got claws. Youâll fight for somethinâ that matters to you. For me.â
Her pulse jumped, her body locking up for a second when his beard grazed against her cheek and then lowerâhis nose dipping into the curve of her neck. The sensation made her knees weak, and without thinking, her hands clutched at his shirt tighter.
Seth chuckled against her skin, the sound dark, knowing. âMmm, yeah. You feel that, donât ya? You like me holdinâ you like this. You like knowinâ youâre mine.â His voice was velvet and gravel all at once, dripping with that possessive edge he didnât bother hiding anymore.
Her brain was fogging, every nerve lit up from the scratch of his beard and the warmth of his body pressed so close. She swallowed hard, trying to will herself to say something, anything.
âDonâtâdonât say things like that,â she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.
âWhy not?â His smirk widened, his thumb brushing circles into her hip like he was staking his claim. âBecause it scares you? Or because itâs true?â
She pulled in a shaky breath. âYou⊠you donât mean it the way it sounds.â
âOh, sweetheart,â he purred, tilting his head so his lips hovered dangerously close to her ear, âI mean every single word. I donât say anything I donât mean. And when I say youâre mine? Thatâs exactly what I mean.â
Her stomach twisted, heat rising to her cheeks. She tried to convince herself it was just playful teasing, that Seth Rollins, the man everyone called cunning, arrogant, untouchable, wasnât serious. But the weight in his voice, the intensity in his eyes, told her otherwise.
âYou shouldnâtââ
âShouldnât what?â he interrupted smoothly, pulling back just enough to pin her with that burning stare. âShouldnât claim you? Shouldnât make it obvious? Too late for that.â His grin was sharp, predatory. âIâve been watchinâ you since the day you walked in, and every time you prove me right. You belong right here. By me. With me.â
Her chest tightened. Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. âColbyâŠâ
âWhat?â he asked softly, almost gently, though the fire in his gaze didnât dim. âTell me you donât feel this. Tell me you donât like me pushinâ you up against the wall like this. Tell me you donât crave it.â
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The words were tangled in her throat, betraying her.
Colbyâs smirk returned, satisfied. He leaned in again, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear as he murmured, âThatâs what I thought.â
Her knees wobbled, and her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his shirt, hating how much she needed the anchor.
Colby lowered his voice, softer now, almost intimate. âDonât overthink it, sweetheart. Just remember⊠you were perfect out there. And the best part? That fire? That fight? Itâs ours now. Me and youâ weâre unstoppable.â
He said it like a promise. Like a claim. Like a vow heâd carve into stone if he had to. And deep down, she knew he meant every word. The scariest part wasâshe realized she wanted him to.
Y/Nâs pulse was still out of control. Her skin tingled where Colbyâs hand had burned against her, and she hated that she couldnât shake the phantom feel of his beard grazing her neck. It had been five minutes, maybe ten, and she was still flushed, walking down the corridor like she was trying to outrun her own thoughts.
She slowed her steps, taking in the chaos of backstage. Crew members bustled around, wrestlers passed in and out of locker rooms, and everything felt so normal. But she didnât. Not anymore.
âHey.â
The voice stopped her cold. She turned to find CM Punk leaning casually against a wall, arms crossed over his chest. His sharp eyes didnât match his easy stance; they flicked over her like he was trying to read every inch of her expression.
âUhâhey,â she said, blinking. âYou good?â
âShould be my line,â Punk replied. He pushed off the wall, closing the space between them in a few measured steps. âYou look like you just stepped out of a furnace.â
Her cheeks flared hotter. âIâuh, no. Iâm fine. Just⊠hot back here.â
Punk arched a brow. âHot back here? Youâre talking to somebody whoâs been sweating under arena lights for twenty years. Donât feed me bullshit.â
Her stomach twisted. âOkay, then⊠why are you asking?â
He studied her for a beat, then jerked his chin toward the hallway sheâd come from. âBecause I saw you with Colby. And I know that look.â
Her breath caught, a flash of nerves sparking. âWhat look?â
âThe one he gave you.â Punkâs tone was flat, matter-of-fact, like he was stating a law of gravity. âThat laser-focus, nothing-else-matters glare. Iâve only seen it once before. Right before his first title shot. He wanted it so bad it didnât matter who was in front of him. Didnât matter what it cost him. He took it. Wouldnât stop until it was his.â
She shifted uncomfortably, folding her arms like she could shield herself from the weight of his words. âOkay, butâ thatâs wrestling. Thatâs competition. Itâs not the same thing.â
Punkâs gaze sharpened, cutting. âYou think youâre an exception?â
Her lips parted, the defensiveness bubbling up before she could stop it. âIâm saying Colbyâs not dangerous. Not to me. Heâ he cares about me. Heâs been good to me.â
âGood now,â Punk said dryly, tilting his head. âBut obsession doesnât always stay good. Trust me, kidâ Iâve seen enough locker rooms and enough egos to know when someoneâs gone all in on something. Or someone.â He took a step closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. âAnd Colby? Heâs all in on you. Whether youâre ready for that or not.â
Her chest tightened. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but the words stuck. She thought of Colbyâs hand on her hip, his beard scraping her skin, the way his voice had wrapped around her like a chain.
Still, she forced a smile. âI appreciate it, really. But I can handle myself. I donât need an escape plan.â
Punk didnât smile back. âNot yet.â His eyes locked on hers, steady and unblinking. âBut if you ever do⊠donât be too proud to ask. Got it?â
For a second, the chaos of backstage fell away. It was just him and her, the weight of his warning sinking deep. Finally, she nodded. ââŠGot it.â
Punk gave a small grunt, satisfied enough, and stepped back. âGood. Then Iâll shut up.â He smirked faintly as he turned to leave, throwing one last line over his shoulder. âJust rememberâ obsession may win titles. But it wrecks people.â
Y/N stood frozen, her skin still flushed, her heart pounding in her ears. She wanted to brush it off as paranoia. But the way Punk had said it, the certainty in his voice, lodged in her chest like a hook she couldnât shake.
The Performance Center was quieter than usual, just the faint hum of the lights above and the soft thud of Y/Nâs boots against the mat as she ran through her set. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and exhaled, muttering the sequence under her breath. Dropkick, kip-up, into the ropes, clotheslineâ spin it into the sling blade. She hit it clean, the impact snapping through the ring. The sound echoed in the empty space, a satisfying crack.
She didnât notice him at first.
Colby leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a sly grin tugging at his lips. He just watched. The coil of her body, the way her movements werenât stiff or rehearsed anymore but fluid, sharp, hers. When she vaulted to the top rope and sprung off into a flawless tornado DDT on the crash dummy sheâd set up, he let out a low whistle.
The sound sliced through the silence.
Y/Nâs head whipped toward him, cheeks heating instantly when she saw him. Colby sauntered forward, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers. He looked like trouble in sweatpants and a fitted tee, hair loose, damp from his own workout earlier.
âDamn,â he drawled, voice low but carrying. âYou tryinâ to make the rest of us look bad, sweetheart?â
She rolled her eyes, but her blush betrayed her. âI didnât see you standing there.â
âThatâs âcause I didnât wanna interrupt.â He stopped at ringside, tilting his head, watching her catch her breath. Then, with that wolfish grin, he slid under the ropes. âBut now? I gotta see this up close.â
The air shifted instantly. He circled her in the ring, slow and measured, like a predator sizing up prey. His eyes raked over her in a way that wasnât subtle.
âYou wanna run through it with me?â he asked, voice pitched casual, though the way he prowled around her made it feel anything but.
âYou donât have to,â she stammered, brushing her hair from her face. âLivâs supposed to be here soon to help me go over it.â
He smirked, stepping closer, close enough she had to tilt her chin up. âForget Liv. Iâd love to run through it with you. Câmon. Show me what you got.â
She swallowed, then nodded, her nerves fizzling into adrenaline. âOkay⊠uh, start with a lock-up.
They clashed, tying up at the collar and elbow. Colby gave her just enough resistance to feel real, but let her maneuver. She slipped into a headlock, he shoved her off, and she hit the ropes, coming back with a flying forearm that staggered him.
âNice,â he muttered, grinning as he shook it off.
She didnât stop. She ran the ropes again, leapfrogged over his duck, spun on her heel and caught him with a dropkick square in the chest. He stumbled back, laughter in his breathless curse.
âShit, alright!â he barked, pride glinting in his eyes.
She kept the momentum, calling her cues under her breath as they moved. Sling blade. Step-up enzuigiri. A quick snap suplex that had him hitting the mat with a grunt. He let her guide, impressed at how tight her timing was, how she adjusted to his counters without hesitation.
But it was the finish that did it.
âAlright,â she panted, swiping sweat from her temple. âEnd spot.â
She ducked a swing, hooked his waist, and drove him down into a fluid, snapping DDT. The mat rattled. Before he could even register it, she flowed into a cover, one knee planted by his ribs, her body leaning over his, forearm pressing against his chest as her other hand pinned his wrist above his head.
It wasnât just a pin. It was a statement.
Her breath came fast, chest heaving. She glanced down at him, strands of hair sticking to her damp forehead. For the first time since heâd slid in, she realized how close they were. Her thighs bracketing his torso, her hand holding him down like she owned him.
Colbyâs grin faded into something darker. His hands, resting on the mat, shifted â then slid up, curling over her hips. He didnât push her off. He anchored her there.
âDamnâŠâ His voice was rougher now, the cocky tone stripped away. âYouâre really tryna kill me, huh?â
Her throat bobbed, words tangled in her chest.
Then, slowly, Colby sat up just enough that their faces hovered a breath apart. His nose brushed against her jaw as he dipped lower, lips grazing down the column of her neck. Not rushed, not greedy. Just deliberate, featherlight kisses trailing along her collarbone, each one pulling a soft gasp from her throat.
âColbyâŠâ she whispered, her hands threading into his damp hair without thinking, tugging him closer. She tilted her head back, exposing more of her neck to him like instinct, like surrender.
His grip on her hips tightened. He murmured against her skin, voice low, vibrating. âYou have no idea what you do to me, sweet girl.â
The tension was molten, sparking and building, threatening to break into something they couldnât undo. Her pulse hammered under his lips, the heat of his breath branding her.
Then the door to the PC swung open with a heavy slam.
âHey! Sorry Iâm late!â Livâs voice rang out, chipper and oblivious.
Y/N jolted back, scrambling to her feet, cheeks flaming. She smoothed her shirt, forcing a bright smile. âHey, Liv! No worries, I was justâ uhâ warming up!â
Colby lingered on the mat for a moment, eyes still locked on her with that dark glint. Finally, he stood, brushing his hair back with a smirk tugging at his lips. He moved to leave, but as he passed her, he leaned down, lips brushing her ear.
âMatch looks great,â he whispered, voice velvet and dangerous. Then lower, rougher: âBut donât forget⊠you belong to me when the bell rings.â
And with that, he slipped out, leaving her knees weak and her stomach in knots.
Backstage was its own storm before a show â cords coiled like snakes across the floor, ring crew yelling over each other, producers rushing talent to hit promos or get in place. Y/N slipped through the noise with her headphones around her neck, breathing slow, trying to keep her nerves level. Tonight wasnât just another match. Tonight was a chance to prove she wasnât just someoneâs girlfriend. She wasnât Seth Rollinsâ project. She was her own wrestler.
She hugged her jacket tighter around herself as she walked, eyes flicking between the chaos and the thoughts churning in her head. She almost didnât hear the low voices coming from around a corner near a stack of flight cases.
At first, it was just background chatter. But then her name came up.
ââyou see the card? Sheâs in there with Liv now. I mean, what are they gonna give her the title from Iyo next? Unreal. Like, whatâs she done to deserve that spot except sit in Rollinsâ lap?â
Y/N froze mid-step, heart lurching up into her throat.
Another voice chuckled, sharper, meaner. âExactly. I bust my ass on house shows for months, and she gets a push because she bats her eyelashes at the locker room leader. Thatâs the only reason creative even looks her way. Sheâs not even trying to be humble. Sheâs milking it.â
The first guy laughed, a low, humorless sound. âHell, if I so much as glanced at a girl like how Rollins does her, Iâd be interviewed on Dateline the next day.â
Their words crawled under her skin, stinging like cuts she didnât ask for. It wasnât loud, it wasnât public, but it was enough. The quiet cruelty of it, the casual dismissal, as if everything she worked for was nothing more than being âRollinsâ girl.â
She backed away before they saw her, pulse thrumming in her ears. She couldnât confront them, not now, not when she was minutes away from prepping for her match. Y/N moved through it quietly, headphones looped around her neck, jacket tugged tight as she tried to breathe past the nerves.
She barely noticed when Colby appeared in her path, fresh from his own prep. His shirt clung to his chest, hair damp, eyes sharp as they landed on her. But then his expression shifted. He stopped. Tilted his head.
âYouâre quiet,â he said, voice low, searching.
She forced a little smile. âJust focused.â
His gaze didnât waver. He stepped closer, blocking the hallway traffic, hand brushing her arm like an anchor. âNo. Somethingâs eating at you. I can see it.â
âIâm fine, Colby,â she tried again, softer this time.
His jaw worked. He leaned down until his forehead nearly touched hers, voice dropping into something more commanding. âDonât lie to me. Tell me whatâs bothering you.â
Her chest tightened. His stare was relentless, like heâd peel the words out of her no matter how hard she tried to bury them. Finally, she sighed, shrugging half-heartedly. âI just⊠overheard some guys back in that hallway talking. Saying I donât deserve my spot. That Iâm only here because of you.â She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. âIâve been grinding for years, and it justâsucks. To hear it torn down like that.â
Colby stilled, every muscle in his body going taut. His eyes darkened in an instant, that flicker of something primal flashing across his face.
âThey said that?â His voice was steady, too steady, like a storm about to break.
âColbyââ she started, reaching for his arm.
But he shook his head, jaw clenched. âNo. No. You deserve to be here more than half this locker room. You earned it. Donât you ever let anyone make you think otherwise.â
Her heart fluttered at the heat in his tone, at the sheer conviction behind it. But before she could answer, he released her arm and turned on his heel.
âWhere are youâ?â
âStay here,â he snapped, not looking back.
Her stomach sank. She knew that tone, knew exactly where he was going. âColby, wait!â But he was already moving â a storm cutting through the hallway, shoulders squared, each step fueled with something dangerous.
She hesitated only a moment before following, weaving through crew members until the sound of raised voices hit her ears.
By the time she rounded the corner, it was too late. Colby had one of the men pinned against a stack of cases, his fist slamming into the guyâs face over and over, each hit punctuated with snarled words.
âYou think she doesnât deserve this?!â Crack. âYou think sheâs just riding my coattails?!â Crack.
The other man tried to pull him off, but Colby swung his elbow back, sending him sprawling. Staff rushed in, yelling, trying to drag him away, but Colby fought like a man possessed, teeth bared, eyes burning.
Y/Nâs breath caught, frozen at the sight. His knuckles were split open, bloodied, but he didnât even seem to feel it. His gaze snapped up for just a second â found hers across the chaos.
And that was when the anger in his face shifted. Just for her. From rage to something rawer, protective, desperate.
She shouldâve been furious. Shouldâve been scared. But all she could think, as her chest tightened, was: He did this for me. He bled for me.
The med bay was quieter than the chaos outside, but the tension still hung heavy in the air. Y/N stepped inside slowly, her chest tightening when her eyes landed on him. Colby sat on the exam table, shoulders hunched, dark hair sticking damp to his temples. His right hand was split and bruised, knuckles raw and angry red under the harsh fluorescent lights. The sight of it made her heart ache so deep it nearly stole her breath.
She crossed the room, her voice coming out softer than she intended. âWhat the hell were you thinking?â
Colby lifted his eyes to her, bloodshot and burning. For a moment he didnât answer, just clenched his jaw like he was trying to wrestle the words into something calm. Finally, he shook his head, voice rough. âI wasnât thinking. I just⊠I heard what they said about you and I saw red. They thought they could talk about you like that, like you were some object they had the right to tear down. And I wasnâtââ His nostrils flared. âI wasnât gonna let it slide.â
Y/Nâs throat went dry. She moved closer, looking down at his battered hand as if it physically hurt her to see it. Her own hands trembled as she reached for the medical kit on the counter. âColbyâŠâ she whispered, pulling out gauze and antiseptic. âYou canât do this. You canât just destroy yourself because some idiots canât keep their mouths shut.â
âThey donât get to speak about you.â His voice cut through her words, low and hard. He caught her gaze, eyes sharp even as pain flickered behind them. âNo one does. Except me. Youâre mine. And Iâm not gonna let anybodyâ anybody âmake you feel like youâre less than what you are. Because youâre not. Youâre one of the best in this whole damn business, Y/N, with or without me. And if they donât see it, Iâll make them see it.â
Her hands stilled on his knuckles, her chest aching at the raw conviction in his voice. She dipped her head, muttering, âYouâre gonna get yourself suspended, Colby. Youâre gonna end up leaving me here to do this alone. Do you even get how terrifying that is for me? Coming to work and not knowing if youâre here? Not having you in my corner?â Her voice cracked, sharper than she meant it to. âDonât you dare put me in that position.â
The fire in his eyes softened instantly, guilt slipping across his features. âSweet girlâŠâ His voice gentled, almost breaking. âI didnât think about it like that. I justâ I couldnât stand hearing them disrespect you. But Iâd never wanna scare you. Iâd never wanna risk leaving you on your own.â
She pressed the gauze against his split skin, hissing softly when he flinched, but her hands were gentle. Every time she wrapped the bandage, she muttered soft thank youâs under her breath, like the words were slipping out without her control. When she finished, she leaned down and brushed her lips against his knuckles, lingering there for a moment as though kissing the pain away.
âDonât do that again,â she whispered.
Colbyâs chest tightened, heart thundering at how much of herself sheâd just bared. He reached out, tugging her against him until her forehead rested against his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her in a hold that was more vow than comfort. âI wonât,â he promised against her hair, voice steady now. âI wonât ever scare you like that again.â
Y/N closed her eyes, breathing him in. The wild part of her brain knew this was obsession, knew it was dangerous to need someone this badly. But the rest of her? The rest of her couldnât breathe without him.
The lights dimmed as Y/Nâs music hit, the opening notes immediately drawing a huge reaction from the crowd. The pop rolled through the arena like a wave, people jumping to their feet, some holding signs with her name, others chanting before she even stepped through the curtain. She appeared with her usual confidence, her hips swaying deliberately as she stepped onto the ramp. The spotlight caught her perfectly, highlighting the shimmer of her gear, the curve of her smirk. Her eyes flicked straight into the nearest camera lens, narrowing as she tilted her head and gave that slow, almost taunting stare, the kind of look that felt like a challenge, like a promise. The crowd roared even louder.
She raised her arms before strutting down the ramp, letting the adrenaline eat away at the lingering ache from earlier â Colbyâs split knuckles, the sight of him in medical, the way it had nearly broken her. She shoved it all down, burying herself in the character. Tonight, she wasnât the woman terrified of losing the one person who matched her fire â she was her. Untouchable. Dangerous. Desired.
Sliding into the ring, she popped up fluidly to her feet, leaning back against the ropes with her arms stretched wide as if daring anyone to take the moment from her. The camera zoomed in again, catching the glint in her eye as her tongue darted across her bottom.
Liv Morganâs music hit next, drawing her own cheer. She skipped out onto the stage with her bubbly energy, slapping hands along the ramp, but Y/N stood still in the ring, watching her with a cool, steady stare. The contrast was electric, Livâs lighthearted playfulness against Y/Nâs sharp, sultry confidence.
The bell rang, and immediately Y/N and Liv circled one another. The crowd clapped in rhythm, anticipation buzzing. They locked up, and Liv took control first, wrenching Y/N into a headlock. Y/N pushed her off into the ropes, and when Liv came back, Y/N dropped down, popped up, and caught her with a sharp arm drag. Liv rolled through, popped back to her feet, and smirked.
They collided again, this time Liv getting the advantage with a springboard dropkick that sent Y/N stumbling back into the corner. Liv charged, but Y/N side-stepped, hooking her arms around Livâs waist and hitting a snap German suplex. The crowd erupted as Livâs body arched across the mat, Y/N flipping her hair back before crawling toward her with a predatory slowness. She pressed a forearm into Livâs jaw for a quick pin attempt, her face angled toward the camera with a sly smirk, but Liv kicked out at two.
Liv fired back with a flurry, running forearms, then a step-up enziguri that cracked against Y/Nâs temple. Y/N staggered but countered with a spinning back elbow that dropped Liv in her tracks. She covered again, hooking the leg deep. Liv still managed to kick out.
The crowd stayed hot, split between them, chanting both names. Y/N pulled Liv up by the hair, whispering something sharp in her ear before whipping her hard into the corner. She strutted after her, swaying her hips again before slamming a knee into Livâs ribs. Liv collapsed forward, only for Y/N to hook her head and nail a swinging neckbreaker. She rolled across the mat into a fluid cover, her body stretched across Livâs chest as she tilted her chin toward the hard camera again, every inch of her oozing control. Liv kicked out.
The pace picked up. Liv caught Y/N with a codebreaker out of nowhere, the crowd popping. Y/N rolled to the apron to recover, but Liv was relentless, running the ropes and hitting a suicide dive that sent both of them crashing against the barricade.
They both climbed back into the ring before the ten count, trading strikes as the crowd fired up. Y/N landed a stiff forearm, then a sharp kick to Livâs thigh, doubling her over. She hooked Livâs head quickly, lifting her just enough before snapping her down into a devastating DDT. The crack of it echoed through the arena.
The audience jumped to their feet. Y/N didnât waste a second, she slithered across Livâs body, draping herself over her opponent with a seductive pin. Her body pressed flush against Livâs, her forearm lazily resting across her chest as her eyes locked on the nearest camera. Her lips parted in a smirk, a dangerous little curl that made the crowd scream louder.
One⊠Two⊠Three.
The bell rang. The announcer declared her the winner, and her music blasted through the speakers. Y/N rose slowly, brushing hair from her face as the referee raised her hand. She let her smirk widen, staring into the sea of fans, sweat glistening down her neck, her chest rising and falling with the effort of the match. She was electric, untouchable.
But then Seth Rollinsâ music hit.
The arena exploded into noise. The crowd lost it, the scream of thousands drowning out the music itself. Y/Nâs head snapped toward the stage, and there he was, Colby, walking out with his signature swagger, the cocky strut and the rolling shoulders. His hands, though, were still taped, knuckles bruised and split. The sight sent a sharp twist through her chest.
He walked slowly down the ramp, his eyes never leaving her. The grin on his lips was dangerous, but his gaze was darker, hungrier. He climbed into the ring and circled her once, his chest heaving slightly, before stepping closer.
The crowd roared, sensing it, the tension, the heat between them. Sethâs gaze dragged down her body, the curve of her gear, the rise and fall of her chest, every detail glistening under the lights. He stalked toward her, towering over her as the noise of the arena hit a fever pitch.
He leaned down, their faces just inches apart. The audience collectively held its breath, waiting for it, the kiss, the break, the inevitable fire. Her lips parted ever so slightly, her eyes locked on his.
But Seth chuckled, that trademark, wild, unhinged laugh rolling out of him as he turned at the last second. He grabbed her wrist and lifted her hand high in the air, his grin sharp, his cackle echoing. The crowd went insane, a wall of noise.
Y/N kept her smirk on, forcing her expression to stay in character, but her chest burned, her heart hammering. She was utterly captivated, trapped in his gravity, unable to think beyond the fact that he was right there. And together, standing in the middle of the ring, hand raised, sweat-soaked and untouchable, they looked like they owned the world.
wrestlingupdates
liked by visionaryfanclub, y/s/nlover13, and wwenews_4, and 30,502 others
wrestlingupdates: Nah⊠you canât tell me Rollins doesnât move DIFFERENT around Y/S/N đ The stare-downs, the way he circles her in the ring, the way he raised her hand after her match tonight⊠thatâs not the same guy we see with anyone else. He was straight up possessive out there. Idk if this is storyline or something deeper but the tension is UNREAL đ„ #WWERaw #Y/S/N #SethRollins
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shieldera4life: The way he looks at her? Thatâs a man obsessed. Itâs kinda hot ngl.
livmorganarmy: Itâs giving âmineâ energy đł I canât decide if itâs hot or terrifying.
MondayNightMessiahFan: Notice how he never acts like this with Bron? Bron gets respect. Y/S/N gets intensity. Feels like heâs barely holding back.
RingsideQueen: He was circling her like prey in the ring. Yâall can romanticize it but I saw straight up possession.
WrestleTalker99: Nah this isnât normal. This isnât âprotective,â this is controlling. If I was her, Iâd be worried af.
BlackAndGoldForever: The hand on her back, the whispers, the stares⊠I donât think he wants anyone else even looking at her.
TW: Lowkey emotional yâall. Itâs basically Y/N avenging Punk losing his title at SummerSlam. Regular wrestling violence. SMUT!!! MDNI!! Oral (m & f receiving), pnv, creampie, use of nicknames (slut, whore, etc.), praise kink, choking kink, rough sex, fingering, hair pulling, marking, just lots of smut lmao. Also, I had a request that was somewhat similar to this, but I forgot to add it. So Iâm so sorry to the anon that requested it đ
Y/N watches on from backstage nervously as Phil continues on with his match against Gunther. Her match isnât until tomorrow, a triple threat against Naomi and Rhea for the Womenâs World Championship, but she wasnât going to miss her manâs match against the Ring General.
Phil hadnât told her anything about the match. She has no idea what the outcome will be, but just watching the first few minutes, she knew it was going to be brutal. She watches as Phil gets his hits in, the match clearly in the shine stage. However, when the cutoff comes, she flinches as Guntherâs chop echoes off Philâs chest.
Theyâre both professionals. They wouldnât sandbag each other on such an important match. But that still doesnât mean Y/N doesnât get squeamish seeing him get hit so roughly. Sheâs taken her fair share of chops, but none of Guntherâs caliber.
âCâmon babyâŠâ she mutters under her breath, biting her nails.
âI donât think Iâve ever seen you this nervous,â Pam says teasingly as she walks up to Y/N, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. âNot even for your own match.â
âI just donât want him to get hurt,â Y/N admits, her eyes never leaving the screen, but she does lean into her friend.
âWell, I canât promise he wonât,â Pam says softly. âBut I know his main goal is to get back here to you in one piece,â she rubs her shoulder reassuringly. âYou scare him more than anything, and you were very adamant about him making it back to you.â
Y/N laughs softly, looking down briefly before glancing back up to the screen. Phil lands a good strike making her grin. It was one she remembered running through with him. âI trust him. I know heâll be okay. ButâŠâ she exhales loudly, âDoesnât stop me from worrying about him.â
âYouâve always been a worry wart,â Pam chuckles. âYou should try relaxing every now and again. Itâs good for ya.â
âIâll relax once this match is over,â Y/N huffs out.
Pam pats Y/Nâs back, âWell, donât give yourself wrinkles. At least not before tomorrow.â She pats her back before taking off towards production, one of the writers calling out to her.
Y/N zeroes in back on the match. She watches her boyfriend and Gunter climb on top of the announce table. A gasp leaves her lips when Punk takes Gunther down, the man hitting the table face first before falling down behind it. Phil falls to the floor, crawling across slowly. She knew he was selling, but part of her knew some of him was hurt.
Thatâs when Gunther emerges from behind the table, blood cascading down his face. Y/N covers her mouth, feeling terrible for the Ring General, but mostly just grateful it wasnât Phil in that position. If she saw him emerge with that amount of blood on his face, she wouldâve lost her mind.
Punk slides over to the corner of the ring, wincing as he catches his breath. Y/N can feel her heart rate increasing, waiting and hoping this match is nearing the end. She despises the fact he wouldnât tell her the way this match was going to go. What was going to happen.
Punk scrambles to pull himself up the side of the ring. Gunther manages to stumble to his feet, rushing into the ring before Punk can. Eventually, Phil gets to his feet, pulling himself inside. The sweat matted his hair to his forehead. He winced once more before cornering Gunther at the turnbuckle. He throws a few strikes before hitting him with a running knee. Y/N holds her breath as Punk climbs up to the top rope before delivering a flying elbow to the Ring General.
Heâs tired, she can see it. But he uses the crowd to his advantage, taking their cheers and morphing it into energy. He makes his âgo to sleepâ hand gesture before turning his attention back to Gunther. He tries to pick him up, but the larger man manages to slip off Punk's back before locking in the sleeper hold.
âDamn itâŠâ Y/N mumbles, foot bouncing rapidly. Theyâre nearing the end, she can feel it. But Punk has never been the type to tap. He wouldnât lose this match to the sleeper. Itâs not in his blood. Creative would never book him that way.
Punk claws at Guntherâs hands, the blood on the Austrian manâs face blocking whatever sight he had. She exhales loudly as Punk makes it to his feet, fighting out of the hold. Her jaw drops slightly as Phil gets Gunther on his shoulders before delivering a perfect GTS.
She shakes her head when Gunther remains on his feet. He staggers, clearly not fully present in the moment. Punkâs chest heaves with each difficult breath before he finds the strength to hoist him up and hits him with a second GTS.
Gunther falls to the floor, allowing Punk to dive in for the cover.
1âŠ
2âŠ
3âŠ
CM Punk is the new world champion.
Y/N feels her heart practically leapfrog out of her chest. She smacks a hand over her mouth, eyes welling with tears. âHe did itâŠâ she mumbles. Thereâs a short pause before she laughs joyously. âOh my fucking gosh. He did it!â
She feels her feet carrying her to gorilla before she can stop herself. She can see in passing monitors the emotions on her boyfriend's face. The way tears fill his eyes as he clutches the title he so desperately wanted to win. He hugs it towards himself like if he were to hold it any looser, it might disappear from his grasp. He deserves this. Out of everyone she knows, he deserves this win. Over ten years heâs waited for this moment, and now he finally got it.
Sheâs about to run out there to celebrate with him in the ring, kayfabe be damned, when the familiar scream of Seth Rollins music hits. Y/N pauses, her blood running cold as she sees the back of Sethâs man bun disappear from behind the curtain.
Thereâs no way. Heâs hurt. Thatâs what he and Becky have been telling people. Thatâs why he hasnât shown up to work. He wouldnât be cashing in. He couldnât be. Not when Punk just won. Not when he just fought like hell to get a title he deserved. After losing to John Cena at Night of Champions, this had to be his moment. They wouldnât take it away from him.
Y/N slows, her footsteps bringing her to the edge of the curtain as she peeks out from behind. She can hear people whispering for her to move away, but she didnât care. She had to see for herself. Seth strolls out with his crutches, Paul holding his money in the bank briefcase. Punk looks gutted for a moment before covering it back up with his tough facade. For a moment, Y/N thinks itâll be okay as Seth turns back around to head backstage. Itâs just a warning. That heâs still lingering in the background.
âŠUntil he drops the crutches.
âNo,â She shakes her head in disbelief.
Before she can even blink, Rollins is darting down the runway, knee completely fine. Punk grips his title as tightly as he can, crouching down to prepare himself for the fight of his life. Heâs beaten down, broken, emotional from finally winning the world heavyweight championship. Of course Seth would cash in now.
Y/N feels her blood boil, grinding her teeth together. She canât interfere. She canât do anything. Not now. Maybe if she had known before, she couldâve pulled some strings with creative. Thatâs why Phil hadnât told her. Thatâs why he held the title as close to him as he could because he wouldnât have it for long.
Seth slides into the ring, Punk dropping the title to punch him at full capacity. He tries to lift Rollins up for a GTS, but Seth elbows him in the perfect spot, causing Punk to drop him. Seth manages to get Punk down on the mat, landing haymakers on the back of his head. He grasps his briefcase before slamming it onto the Voice of the Voicelessâ back. One after the other. Y/N watches in anger as Rollins spins around and hands his briefcase to Jessica, officially cashing in.
Seth Rollins is cashing in his money in the bank contract.
With Punk practically defensless, Seth lines up in the opposite corner, gaining momentum before stomping his head into the ground. Phil falls face down, selling the hell out of the move. Seth drops to his knees, rolling Punk over before hooking his arm under Philâs leg and pinning him.
1⊠2⊠3.
And just like that, Punk is no longer the champion.
Watching Seth celebrate killed Y/N. She wants nothing more than to run out there and kick his ass for what he just stole from Phil. She understands itâs part of the business. But after all this build up, all of the âalmost timesâ creative gave Punk, they took it away again.
Itâs like every time Phil gets close, itâs taken away from him. And ninety percent of his failures have been caused because of Seth. She knows that Seth has say in his storylines. He has pull with creative. He didnât have to do this. He chose to.
Seth sits down right in front of Punkâs limp body, title slung over his shoulder while Bronson and Bron continue to rub it in. Eventually, the camera cuts and the show ends. The fans in the audience are all reeling. Seth and his faction are the first to stand up, sauntering backstage with all the power they could want.
Y/N doesnât move away from the curtain, her feet planted firm as everyone goes about their business. She continues staring at her boyfriend who is just now struggling to his feet, leaving the ring completely deflated.
Her jaw clenches as Seth and the rest of his posse push past the curtain. Seth stops abruptly, coming face to face with the ball of fury standing in front of him. Sheâs not showing it, her outward appearance remaining composed, but being the manipulative man he is, he can see exactly how sheâs feeling.
He tilts his head, smirk ever so present. He pats the title on his shoulder, âDo me a favor Y/N/N⊠thank your man for keepinâ it warm for me while I made my way out. Really appreciate it.â
He lets out that obnoxious cackle, nodding for his henchmen to follow after him. She inhales sharply, fighting every urge to turn around and get herself suspended. The only thing that stops her is when her boyfriend stumbles through the curtain, practically almost falling into her arms. She wastes no time in pulling him close to her. If this hurt her as much as it did, it mustâve felt like torture for him.
Phil stumbles into her arms, his weight heavier than she expected. His chest is heaving, the sweat on his skin still warm from the lights and the fight. Up close, she can hear how ragged his breathing is, not from the match alone, but from everything that just happened. His hands clutch at her sides like heâs trying to ground himself.
She doesnât say anything at first. She just wraps her arms around him tighter, resting her chin on his damp hair as people walk past, crew members, talent, agents, all of them casting sympathetic glances his way but saying nothing. This wasnât their moment to intrude on.
âLetâs get you out of here,â she murmurs finally, her voice low, meant only for him. She shifts, hooking her arm around his back, guiding him away from gorilla and deeper into the maze of hallways. He doesnât resist. His head is down, shoulders rounded, the championship dream slipping further behind with every step they take.
She keeps walking until she finds an empty corner near one of the unused dressing rooms. Itâs quiet, just the faint hum of a vending machine and the muffled chaos of backstage somewhere far away.
âPhilâŠâ she says gently, stepping in front of him. She takes his face in her hands, thumbs brushing the damp strands of hair off his forehead. His eyes meet hers, and itâs like looking at a man who just got the air punched out of his soul.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â she asks, not accusing, but pained.
His jaw works, but no words come out at first. She can see him swallow hard, his throat bobbing. Finally, he exhales, voice cracking on the edges.
âBecause I didnât want to disappoint you,â he admits, eyes darting away like he canât bear to see her reaction. âI came back to win. To prove I could still do it. And tonight⊠I had it. I finally had it.â His voice breaks on that word. âAnd the second I did, they told me I wouldnât keep it for longer than five damn minutes.â
Her stomach twists. Sheâs angryâwhite-hot angryâbut her first instinct is to wrap him up in her arms again. So she does, pulling him against her chest, her hand stroking the back of his neck. âIâm not disappointed in you,â she says firmly, pressing her cheek to his temple. âIâm pissed for you. Youâve fought like hell to get here. Youâve eaten more crap from this business than anyone else wouldâve survived, and youâre still standing. If anyone deserves that title, itâs you. Not Seth. You.â
His arms tighten around her, like her words are the only thing holding him up. He breathes out slowly. âI know Iâm closer to the end than the beginning. And the time to win titles⊠itâs running out.â His voice is quiet now, almost a confession. âEvery time I get close, it gets ripped away. Makes me wonder if itâs ever gonna happen.â
She pulls back just enough to cup his face again, forcing him to look at her. âIt will. And Iâll be here every damn time it does or doesnât. But donât you ever think youâve got nothing left. Not to me.â
He tries to smile, but itâs faint, like the muscle memory is there but the joy isnât. She leans in, pressing her lips softly to his. Itâs not a heated kissâitâs steady, grounding, a promise she canât quite put into words yet.
When she pulls back, her mind is already working, already sparking with an idea. Something he doesnât need to know yet. âIâll be right back,â she whispers, brushing her thumb over his cheek.
Confusion flickers across his face instantly, and his hands tighten at her waist. âNo. Please⊠donât go. Not right now.â
She smiles, leaning in so her forehead rests against his. âFive seconds. Thatâs all. And when I come back, Iâll still be yours.â
Itâs the way she says it, soft, certain, that makes him reluctantly let his hands fall away. She kisses him again, slower this time, before stepping back. He watches her go with tired, wary eyes, still not sure what sheâs about to do.
Y/Nâs boots hit the concrete with purpose, every step echoing in the narrow hallway. The buzz of backstage chatter, the crackle of radios, the distant thud of someoneâs theme music, it all blurs into white noise behind the pounding in her ears. Sheâs not walking so much as cutting through the space, weaving between production crew and talent like a blade through fabric. Her jaw is locked, and her hands are fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.
Philâs face, defeated, exhausted, trying to hide how much it gutted him, is burned into her mind. It fuels every ounce of her anger, stoking it into something sharp and focused. Sheâs not just mad for him. Sheâs furious at the system that keeps doing this to him.
She spots Paul Levesque a few feet ahead, leaning against a road case while talking with a stagehand. Without hesitation, she calls out, her voice cutting through the noise.
âPaul.â
The way she says his name, low, firm, edged, makes him turn instantly. His brows lift slightly when he sees her expression. The stagehand mutters something about getting back to work and quickly disappears, sensing the shift in the air.
Paul holds his hands up slightly, like heâs already trying to head off whatever is about to happen. âAlright, kid, slow downââ
âNo.â Her voice cuts clean through his. âYou donât get to âslow downâ me right now. You owe me.â
That gets his eyebrows up. âI owe you?â
âYes.â She closes the distance between them in a few quick strides, staring him down like sheâs daring him to deny it. âRoyal Rumbleâyou remember? I was supposed to go over. But you wanted Charlotteâs big return to be the thing everyone talked about. So I waited. Then Elimination Chamberâyou kept me out of the win because the Bianca, Rhea, and Iyo story needed another month of oxygen. And I waited again.â Her voice sharpens with each word. âIâve been patient, Paul. That patience is gone.â
Paul exhales slowly, running a hand over his face. He does love her. Hell, heâs the one whoâs always said sheâs money for the business, and yeah, he owes her. He knows it. But her eyes right now? Theyâre dangerous.
He inhales sharply, long and slow, rubbing his beard like heâs stalling for time. âYouâve had good spots, Y/Nââ
She cuts him off with a look that could slice steel. âDonât. Donât give me the company line right now. You know damn well youâve been holding me in place because it suited the board, the booking, the storylines. Fine. I played the game. But you promised me a favor. And Iâm cashing it in.â
He shifts, arms folding across his chest. âAlright⊠what is it you want?â
âI want to interfere in Becky and Lyraâs match tomorrow.â She says it like sheâs dropping a grenade at his feet.
His brows furrow. âThatâs after your triple threat with Naomi and Rhea.â
âI know.â
âYouâre gonna go out there twice? Right after wrestling?â
âYes.â Her tone is so even itâs unsettling.
He shakes his head slowly. âBeckyâs supposed to win, Y/N.â
âI donât care.â The words are quiet, but they hit harder than if sheâd shouted them. âYouâll figure out how to fix it. Bayley can challenge Lyra after for the title. Hell, Iâll challenge her if I have to. But Iâm not asking you, Paul. This is the favor you owe me. And Iâm calling it in now.â
Something in her expression makes him pauseâitâs not reckless rage, itâs cold, calculated certainty. He studies her like heâs trying to figure out what the hell could be worth her burning her one piece of leverage.
âYou sure you want to use it on this?â His voice is quieter now.
Her gaze doesnât waver. âIâve never been more sure about anything.â
He sighs, heavy, dragging a hand over his face. âYouâre gonna make my life hell, you know that?â
âProbably.â Her lips twitch, but thereâs no humor in it. âBut youâll thank me later.â
He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, before finally meeting her eyes again. âAlright. Weâll figure out the right angle.â
âGood.â She doesnât wait for him to say anything else before turning on her heel, her mind already assembling the moment sheâll make it happen. She doesnât need him to know why sheâs doing this. He wouldnât understand anyway.
Y/N had barely said a word the entire walk back to the hotel. She didnât need to. Her hand stayed looped through Philâs arm, her thumb brushing absently over the inside of his wrist in a rhythm that was more about grounding him than guiding him. When they reached their room, she quietly pulled out the keycard, pushed the door open, and gave him a soft nudge inside.
Phil moved on autopilot, shoulders still hunched, his jaw tight. She could feel the tension radiating off him, the way he was still replaying the loss in his head.
âSit,â she murmured, pressing her palm to the center of his chest and guiding him to the edge of the bed.
He didnât argue, but he didnât look at her either. Y/N crouched down in front of him, tugging at the laces of his boots. âYou donât have toââ
âYeah, I do,â she interrupted quietly, glancing up at him. Her voice was gentle, but there was no room for debate. âLet me.â
One boot, then the other, sliding them off with care. She reached for the jacket next, easing it from his shoulders, and then peeled away the black tank top heâd thrown on over his bare torso. She folded each item and set them aside neatly, not because it mattered, but because she knew the orderliness might help him breathe easier.
He huffed out a small, humorless laugh. âYou treating me like Iâm a hundred years old?â
âNo,â she said simply, brushing her fingers through his hair. âIâm treating you like I love you.â
That shut him up for a second.
She took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom, twisting the knobs until the water came out hot enough to fog the mirror. Phil leaned on the doorframe, watching her. âYou seriously donât have to do this, sweetheart.â
Her nails grazed his scalp as she scratched the back of his head. His breath hitched â not in a way he could control. He felt that familiar sting behind his eyes again, and it pissed him off because it meant he was gonna cry.
âYouâre right,â she said softly, âI donât have to. I want to.â
Phil just let her undress him the rest of the way, the steam curling around them, and when she stepped in behind him, it wasnât about anything physical, it was about keeping him upright when the weight of the night was threatening to crush him.
She lathered shampoo into his hair, her nails scratching lightly, and for the first time since the match ended, his shoulders dropped. âGod, that feels good,â he mumbled, closing his eyes.
âI know,â she said with a faint smile. âYou always tense up after a loss. Like you think youâre gonna carry it forever if you donât keep it in your muscles.â
âI am gonna carry it forever,â he muttered, voice low.
She didnât argue. Instead, she rinsed the suds from his hair and reached for the body wash, her touch steady and deliberate as she worked over his chest, arms, and back. âYou donât have to win every title for me to be proud of you, you know.â
âI know,â he admitted, leaning into her hand as she washed his neck. âDoesnât mean it doesnât piss me off.â
âIâd worry if it didnât,â she teased, and he almost smiled.
When they stepped out, she wrapped him in a towel, drying his hair with another before pulling him into clean sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. He made a face when she reached for the moisturizer.
âSeriously?â
âSeriously,â she said, dabbing it on his cheeks before he could escape.
âFeels like Iâm in a damn spa.â
âYouâre welcome,â she shot back, and that earned her the smallest of smirks. âMaking sure you donât look like a leather belt by the time youâre sixty.â
She got him into bed, tucking his water bottle on his nightstand. Itâs freshly filled with ice because she knows thatâs how he prefers it. As soon as she slid in beside him, he pulled her into his chest like he couldnât stand the space between them any longer.
They stayed quiet for a while, just the hum of the AC filling the room. Finally, he spoke. âWhatâd you have to do before we left?â
She tilted her head up to look at him, kissing the tip of his nose. âItâs nothing you need to worry about. Youâll see tomorrow. Tonightâs about you.â
His voice was hoarse when he said, âWhat I need is you.â
Her chest tightened. âWell, itâs a good thing youâll always have me. And not just tonight. Until the I take my last breath.â
He pressed his forehead to hers. âI hate losing. I hate watching opportunities slip. But⊠Iâm not stupid. I know how lucky I am to have you in my corner. Hell, half the time you are my corner.â
She smiled, brushing her fingers through his damp hair. âAnd youâre mine. Which is why I know your timeâs coming, Phil. Because youâre you. Not because youâre CM Punk. Because youâre Phil Brooks â the most stubborn, determined, amazing man in the world.â
He chuckled quietly. âCareful, youâre making me sound like a Hallmark movie.â
âThatâs fine,â she said. âThen maybe youâll remember it.â
Phil kissed her temple, lingering there. âI donât forget things like that.â
âGood,â she echoed, and they stayed wrapped together, the quiet settling into something soft and safe, a place neither of them needed to win to deserve.
Y/N stood in front of a mirror in the bustling backstage area, tugging her gloves tight as she checked her gear one last time. The black-and-gold ensemble hugged her in all the right places, glinting under the fluorescent lights, her hair pulled back in a sleek style that screamed confidence. She smiled at a passing production assistant, exchanging a quick âgood luckâ with another wrestler who slapped her arm as they walked by.
But then her smile shifted when she caught sight of him.
Phil.
He was moving slower than usual, hands in his hoodie pockets, shoulders slouched, still carrying the weight of last nightâs loss like it was chained to him. But the moment his eyes landed on her, his entire face softened. Pride replaced the heaviness, his lips twitching into the faintest smile as if the sight of her knocked the air right out of him.
âYou look⊠Jesus,â he breathed as he stopped in front of her, eyes dragging from head to toe. â...You are not walking out there looking like that,â he said finally, voice low, a little rough.
She raised a brow. âWhyâs that?â
âBecause, sweetheart,â he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot, âif you do, Iâm gonna end up jumping that barricade, dragging you backstage in front of twenty thousand people, and finishing what this outfitâs already starting.â
Her mouth twitched into a smirk, but she didnât flinch when he got close â close enough that the heat from his body cut through the cool air of the locker room.
âYou know the cameraâs gonna be right in your face,â he went on, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. âAnd all Iâm gonna be thinking about is how fast I can get you out of this when itâs over.â
She fought the shiver that ran down her spine. âIâve got a match to win, Brooks.â
âI know,â he murmured, thumb skimming along her hip. âAnd Iâll be out there cheering for you, like a good boyfriend⊠but donât think for a second Iâm not gonna be picturing you in that gear under me the whole damn time.â
Her breath caught before she shoved his chest lightly. âYouâre disgusting.â
He leaned into her touch, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment. âI mean it. You look ready to steal the whole damn show. Hell, they might as well not book the rest of the card after you go out there.â
Her grin was warm, but her eyes searched his face. âYou okay?â
âIâm better than I was,â he admitted, rubbing her hip. âStill pissed about last night, still wanna punch a wall about it, but⊠seeing you like this? Knowing youâre about to go out there and own it? Makes it a little easier to swallow.â
âGood,â she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. âBecause I need you supporting me. I need you loud.â
âLoud is my specialty,â he said with a smirk. âYou know Iâll be yelling my lungs out for you.â
âPerfect.â She straightened his hoodie, her voice dropping just for him. âWhen this is over, weâll figure out how to get that damn title around your waist. One way or another, itâs gonna happen.â
His hands slid down, gripping the back of her thighs just enough to make her laugh. âDonât go making me promises Iâm gonna hold you to.â
âOh, I know you will.â
For a second, they just stood there, locked in their little bubble while the chaos of SummerSlam prep swirled around them. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes locked on hers like he wanted to memorize her face before she went out.
âYouâve been patient,â he said quietly, like it was something only she deserved to hear. âToo patient. You deserve this win tonight, Y/N. And I hope to God you get it. Not because Iâm biasedâwell, okay, I amâbut because youâve earned it ten times over.â
Her chest tightened, and she pulled him in for a slow kiss, not caring who saw. âYouâre my favorite thing in this business, Phil. Win or lose.â
âYeah?â he murmured, brushing his nose against hers.
âYeah.â
He smiled, that rare, real smile that only came out when she got past all the walls. âGo out there and make âem remember why youâre the best. And, uhâŠâ he squeezed her butt, earning a playful swat from her, âkick their asses for me, too. At least one of us should come home with gold.â
She was still smiling when Rheaâs music hit, the bass thundering through the arena. She kissed him once more, quick but full of intent, before pulling away.
âBe right back,â she promised. âDonât blink or youâll miss it.â
He watched her walk toward the curtain, pride radiating off him even as that ache from last night lingered.
âGo get âem, champ,â he called after her, his voice low but firm.
And she didnât even have to look back to know heâd be right there, front row, making good on his promise to be loud.
The arena was already buzzing from the last match, but the lights suddenly cut, plunging the crowd into darkness. A heartbeat thumped over the speakers, slow, steady, then built into a rapid pounding as golden spotlights swirled through the arena. A wall of smoke rolled across the stage, and a giant LED screen lit up with Y/N L/N in bold, metallic gold lettering.
Then her music hit. The first beat sent the entire crowd into a frenzy â chants of âY/N! Y/N! Y/N!â echoing from the rafters before she even stepped through the curtain.
She emerged slowly, bathed in golden light, draped in a dramatic floor-length jacket that shimmered with rhinestones and metallic threads. A championship-caliber entrance without even holding the belt. Her hair was perfect, makeup sharp, and her ring gear matched her larger-than-life presentation, sleek, black-and-gold with intricate designs that glittered under the lights.
Y/N paused at the top of the ramp, smirk tugging at her lips as she looked over the roaring crowd. She lifted her arms, fingers splayed wide, as pyros exploded from both sides of the stage, golden sparks raining down behind her. The smoke curled around her boots as she began her walk.
This wasnât a walk. This was a strut.
Every step said I own this place.
Fans leaned over the barricade to reach for her, some holding handmade signs with her catchphrases, others just screaming her name like it was a prayer. She tossed her head slightly, smirking at the camera that panned low, catching her gear sparkle with each stride.
Halfway down the ramp, she stopped, turned to face the hard cam, and pointed directly at it with a devilish smile. The camera zoomed in just enough to catch her mouthing: Watch closely.
When she reached the ring, Y/N grabbed the middle rope, leaned back in a teasing stretch, and then slid under the bottom rope in one smooth motion â straight into a kneel. She popped up fluidly, discarding her jacket, and locked eyes with Naomi and Rhea, who were already waiting.
Naomi leaned against the ropes with a cocky smirk, tilting her head as if to say, cute entrance, but it wonât help you. Rhea cracked her neck, pacing like a predator waiting to pounce.
The three of them began to circle. The energy was tense, the crowd buzzing, each woman looking for the slightest opening.
DING DING DING.
Y/N and Naomi lunged first, locking up. Naomi tried to overpower, but Y/N transitioned instantly into a deep arm drag. Naomi popped back up â only to be met with a spinning heel kick from Y/N that dropped her to a knee. Rhea came charging, looking for a clothesline, but Y/N ducked under, springboarding off the middle rope to hit her with a flying forearm.
The crowd roared.
Rhea rolled to her feet, smirking like she appreciated the fight. She swung wide with a lariat â Y/N ducked again, grabbed Rhea by the arm, and launched herself into a tilt-a-whirl headscissors, sending the eradicator sprawling into the corner.
Naomi took advantage, yanking Y/N down by the hair. The boos from the crowd only made her grin wider. She stomped Y/N into the mat, then dragged her up for a snap suplex, following with a quick cover.
1! Kickout.
The match quickly turned chaotic. Rhea bulldozed both women with a double clothesline. She hoisted Y/N up for a delayed vertical suplex â holding her there long enough to let the crowd count â before slamming her hard to the mat. She went for Naomi next, driving her into the corner with shoulder thrusts.
Y/N came flying in from behind with a running knee strike to Rheaâs back, sending her stumbling forward. Y/N grabbed Naomi and hit her with a flawless rolling German suplex, bridging into a pin.
1! 2!
Rhea broke it up with a boot to Y/Nâs ribs.
From there, the momentum swung wildly â Y/N countering Rheaâs Riptide into a DDT, Naomi countering Y/Nâs springboard crossbody with a mid-air dropkick, Rhea catching Naomi out of the air and throwing her like a ragdoll. The crowd ate up every reversal, every near-fall.
Then came the final sequence.
Rhea had Y/N in her sights, charging for a big boot â and connected. Y/N went down hard, the crowd gasping. Rhea tried to drop into the cover.
However, Naomi slid in at lightning speed, using her momentum to push Rhea into a roll up pin. Normally, Rhea would kick out of that easily, but Naomi grabbed Rhea by the waistband of her gear and yanked it just low enough to force her to stop kicking out or risk giving the crowd a full moon. The crowd erupted in a mix of shocked laughter and boos as Naomi stacked her up.
1! 2! 3!
DING DING DING.
Naomi popped up, smirking like the devil as she clutched her title to her chest. The boos rained down, but she just held the belt high and mouthed âStill your champâ into the hard cam.
Meanwhile, Y/N sat up slowly, huffing, one arm wrapped around her ribs. Across the mat, Rhea was glaring daggers at Naomi, but when her eyes shifted to Y/N, something unspoken passed between them.
Rhea had never pinned or submitted her. Not once. Tonight was supposed to change that. It hadnât.
Y/N gave her a slow, knowing smirk, like sheâd just silently reminded Rhea: You still canât beat me.
Rheaâs jaw clenched. The war between them wasnât over. Not by a long shot.
The second she stepped through the curtain, the roar of the crowd still ringing in her ears, Y/N was met with a line of crew members, producers, and fellow wrestlers, all throwing her smiles, fist bumps, and quick congratulations.
âHell of a match out there,â one of the camera operators said as he passed, still shaking his head like he couldnât believe some of the spots she pulled off.
âYou looked like a damn superstar,â one of the makeup artists chimed in.
Y/N offered a polite nod and a small smile to each person, slowing only when she reached Paul Levesque.
Paulâs arms opened before she could even speak, pulling her into a solid, fatherly hug. âIâm proud of you,â he said in that gravelly tone, giving her shoulder a pat before pulling back. âYouâve got the TLC match to get your bearings before you head back out for the Becky and Lyra match. You good?â
She nodded. âYeah, Iâm good. Thanks, Paul.â
He gave her a knowing look, like he was reading between her words, then let her go. She continued down the hallway, her ribs aching from that brutal whip into the turnbuckle earlier. All she could think about was getting some ice and a moment to breathe.
But when she rounded the corner toward the locker room, she froze. Phil was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the hallway like a hawk. When his eyes landed on her, his expression shifted instantly, softening into that rare, unguarded smile he saved just for her.
He pushed off the wall and walked straight to her, pulling her into his arms before she could even say hello. His hand slid up the back of her neck, holding her close. âIâm proud of you, kid,â he murmured, his voice low but firm, the kind of tone that didnât invite debate. âAnd⊠Iâm sorry you didnât get the title.â
She shook her head, pressing a kiss to his cheek like it was nothing. âPhil, itâs all storyline. Iâm good with it. Honestly? Iâd rather build the suspense.â
He smirked faintly but his eyes softened. âYeah, well, suspense or not, you just put on the match of a lifetime. People are gonna be talking about this for years.â
That pulled a genuine exhale of satisfaction from her. âHope so.â
It was then that he noticed the deep purple marks already beginning to bloom along her ribs. His brow furrowed instantly. âJesus, babe, youâre already bruising. How hard did she hit you?â
âPhilââ she chuckled, resting her hand on his arm, ââIâm fine. A little banged up, sure, but thatâs nothing new after a big match like that. You know that.â
âI know it doesnât mean I have to like it.â He eyed her like he was considering wrapping her in bubble wrap before every match.
She laughed, cupping his jaw in her hand, her thumb brushing along the edge of his scruff. âTell you what⊠after this is all done and over with, weâll grab dinner, go back to the hotel, and just⊠relax.â
His expression softened immediately, his shoulders loosening. âYeah⊠I like that idea.â Then his eyes narrowed as she stepped toward the locker room door. âWaitâ what are you doing?â
Her smirk was borderline mischievous. âGot something to take care of.â She opened the door halfway, glancing back over her shoulder. âYou might wanna hang out by a monitor.â
His brow shot up, arms folding across his chest. âShould I be worried?â
She just winked. âAlways.â
He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. âYouâre trouble, you know that?â
âAnd you love it,â she shot back before slipping inside, leaving him in the hall with a grin tugging at his lips despite himself.
The arena air buzzed with electricity, the steady roar of the crowd mixing with the faint metallic scent of pyros long burned out. Under the shadow of her black hoodie, Y/N moved like a phantom through the narrow backstage corridor, every step fueled by a dangerous cocktail of focus and fury. She kept her head low, strands of hair peeking out just enough to disguise her features from passing crew members.
From somewhere up ahead, she caught Philâs voice, loud, tense, and scanning the area like a man who had already been searching too long.
"Hey, have you seen Y/N?" he asked a stagehand, the irritation under his words barely restrained.
The guy shook his head. âNah, man. Not back here.â
Phil swore under his breath, his footsteps moving off in the opposite direction.
Y/N didnât slow. She couldnât. The pounding of the crowd beyond the curtain was calling to her. But before she could hit the opening that led to the arena floor, another voice cut in, sharper, cockier, and laced with that infuriating arrogance she could recognize anywhere.
ââŠIâm telling you, it was worth it,â Seth Rollins was saying, his tone smug and conversational as if he were discussing what brand of coffee he liked. He was leaned casually against a road case, talking to Bron and Bronson Reed, both of whom looked entertained. âFaking the injury? Oh yeah, absolutely no regrets. It was never about the title for me, boys, it was about making sure Punk didnât get it. That was my mission.â
Bron chuckled. âPretty ruthless, man.â
Seth smirked wider, the glint in his eyes pure malice. âYeah, well⊠if keeping him down means keeping his little girlfriend out of the spotlight too?â He gave a little shrug, feigning innocence. âThatâs just a bonus. Why should she get her moment if it kills him to watch?â
The words hit Y/N like a match to gasoline. Heat surged in her veins. Her fingers flexed at her sides, itching to grab the nearest object and smash it over his head. She didnât. Not yet. Instead, she let that fire simmer, let it curl through her chest until her pulse matched the deafening thrum of the crowd outside. Thisâ this was the fuel she needed.
By the time she stepped through the curtain, the noise doubled, wrapping around her like a tidal wave. The match outside was chaos. Becky Lynch and Lyra Valkyria brawling on the floor near the timekeeperâs area, the referee distracted, the crowd rabid for every hit.
And then it happened. Becky grabbed a steel chair, raising it high above her head, about to crash it down on Lyraâs ribs. Y/N didnât think. She ran. Charging down through the audience, weaving between stunned fans, she vaulted over the barricade just as Beckyâs arms began their swing. Her hands shot out, snatching the chair mid-air.
The crack of metal stopping echoed.
Beckyâs head whipped around, fiery hair swinging, her brows furrowed in confusion. âWhat theâ?!â
She didnât get to finish. Y/N yanked the chair from her grip and slammed the edge into Beckyâs gut, sending her stumbling back into the barricade. The crowd exploded into a chorus of shock and cheers, camera flashes strobing across the chaos.
Corey Gravesâ voice rang out from commentary. âWhat the hell is Y/N doing here?!â
Becky shook her head, still processing, but Y/N was already on her. A swift forearm to the jaw snapped Beckyâs head sideways, and then Y/N was unloading. Kicks, punches, a vicious elbow that sent Becky sprawling to the floor. She didnât stop. She grabbed a kendo stick from under the ring, the hollow rattle of bamboo promising pain, and cracked it across Beckyâs back once, twice, three times, each hit more brutal than the last.
The stick splintered in her hands.
The audience was on their feet now, the roar deafening.
Michael Coleâs voice cut through, speculative and sharp. âI donât know whatâs going through Y/Nâs head right now, but this⊠this could be revenge for Seth Rollins lying about his injury!â
Y/N grabbed a steel chair again, unfolding it just enough to slam the seat into Beckyâs spine. Lynch let out a guttural cry, collapsing to her knees. Y/N didnât hesitate, she hooked Beckyâs arm, spun her around, and drove her down onto the chair with a snap DDT that left Becky motionless.
With Becky down, Y/N turned to Lyra, who was still slumped near the barricade. She reached down, grabbed a fistful of Lyraâs gear, and hauled her up with surprising ease. âCâmon, champ,â Y/N muttered, almost taunting. She shoved Lyra under the ropes, then physically dragged her over to Beckyâs prone body.
âCover her,â Y/N ordered, voice low but picked up by the camera mics.
Lyra blinked in disbelief, but her instincts kicked in. She hooked Beckyâs leg. The referee slid into position.
One. Two. Three.
The bell rang, the crowd going ballistic as Lyra was handed the championship. Becky rolled onto her side, groaning, her eyes glassy with disbelief.
Y/N stood outside the ring, chest rising and falling with adrenaline. A slow, almost unhinged laugh rolled from her throat. The camera zoomed in on her face just as Beckyâs realization sank in⊠she had lost the title, and Y/N was the reason why.
Y/N started walking backward up the ramp, her gaze locked on the nearest camera. She leaned in, pulling her hood back just enough for her smirk to show. âOh,â she said, her voice dripping venom, âwas some of my passive behavior misleading?â
The crowd roared at the callback to Beckyâs words from the night before.
Y/N took a few more steps up the ramp, then glanced back at the lens one last time. âTell your husband, Big Time BecksâŠâ she said, her smirk widening, âIâm just getting started.â
With that, she disappeared backstage, leaving destruction, confusion, and the echo of her laughter behind.
The second Y/N stepped through the curtain, the energy backstage was a live wire. Heads turned. People stopped mid-sentence. Agents, production crew, even the camera ops had that what the hell just happened? look on their faces. No one had been told. No one had seen it coming.
No one except Paul Levesque.
He was standing off to the side, headset half off, that small smirk tugging at his mouth when her eyes found him. They didnât say a word, didnât have to. Just one sharp nod from him, one from her, and the silent acknowledgment hung between them: Yeah⊠we pulled that off.
She kept walking, chin high, the chaos swirling around her like a storm sheâd just set in motion.
She was three steps from clearing gorilla when it hit â the stomping, rapid sound of someone coming fast.
âHEY!â
Seth Rollins, with Bron Breakker and Bronson Reed flanking him like muscle, stormed toward her. Sethâs eyes were wide, jaw tight, the kind of furious where you canât even blink without it shaking through you.
âYou outta your damn mind?â he barked, voice already loud enough to pull attention from everyone nearby. âWho the hell do you think you are, getting involved in my wifeâs match?!â
Y/N stopped mid-step, slowly turning toward him. Her smile was thin, razor-edged. âI think Iâm the woman whoâs man you screwed over when you decided to lie your ass off just to keep him from holding his title.â
âOhhh, here we go,â Seth laughed, except it wasnât amused, it was sharp, mocking. âYou really wanna play the victim here? Your boy got outplayed. Simple. You donât get to come sticking your nose in MY business because you canât handle it.â
âThis became my business,â Y/N shot back, taking a step toward him, âthe second you made it personal. You couldnât screw him out of a championship clean, no, you had to try and drag me down with him.â
Seth tilted his head, grin curling like he was daring her. âOh, Iâll drag you down any day of the week, sweetheart. You wanna play in the big leagues, you better be ready to get knocked on your ass.â
Her voice dropped lower, dangerous. âSay âsweetheartâ again. See how quick I put you on your ass right here.â
The air between them went tight.
Bron and Bronson shifted, ready to step in if this went sideways, which, by the way Y/N moved in closer, nose almost brushing Sethâs, it was about two seconds from happening.
âYou think youâre some kind of hero for this?â Seth sneered. âNewsflash â you just painted a target on your back so big, I could hit it from the parking lot.â
Y/N didnât flinch. âGood. Makes it easier when I swing back.â
The tension spiked. Sethâs smirk faded into that slow burn glare, and his shoulders squared up. Y/N mirrored it, neither willing to break eye contact.
Thatâs when Phil appeared.
It was like he came out of nowhere. One moment Seth was in her face, the next, a hard shove sent Seth staggering back a step.
âYou wanna fight somebody, Rollins?â Punkâs voice cut through the shouting. âTry me. Iâm not hard to find.â
Now everyone was yelling. Agents moving in, Bron barking for people to calm down, Paul stepping forward to keep things from boiling over. Seth was still jawing, trying to get around the people holding him back, while Y/N stood there breathing hard, eyes locked on him like sheâd finish this right now if they let her.
Finally, someone managed to herd her and Punk out of gorilla.
They stormed down the hallway in matching, wordless anger. Her hands were still clenched. His jaw was still tight. By the time they hit an empty stretch of hall, Punk stopped, dragging a hand down his face before running it through his hair.
âYou are gonna give me an ulcer,â he said finally, voice still sharp but laced with something almost â almost â like laughter. âI canât get any more gray hairs, Y/N. Iâm maxed out.â
She smirked. âYou love it.â
âNo,â he corrected, stepping closer and pulling her into his chest. âI love you. You stressing me the hell out? Not so much.â
She shrugged against him like this was nothing. âI couldnât just sit there and watch him brag about screwing you over. Not happening.â
âI meanâ Y/N what the hell were you thinking?â He pulled back enough to look at her. âHow the hell did you evenâŠ? Paul doesnât just hand people a green light for something like that.â
Her grin was pure mischief. âI cashed in my favor.â
He blinked. âWhat favor?â
âThe one from Rumble. And Chamber.â
Punkâs face went slack. âNo. You didnât.â
âYeah,â she said lightly, like sheâd just told him she bought milk on the way home. âGuess Iâm fresh out now.â
His hands dropped from her shoulders in disbelief. âY/N, thatâs⊠you couldâve used that tonight for the title. For literally anything. Why would you burn it onââ
âYou,â she cut in simply. âBecause I donât care about a title. I care about you. And it was worth it to wipe that smug look off Sethâs face.â
He opened his mouth to argue â but she kissed him before he could. When she pulled back, she was smiling. âThey wanted to screw with you, so I screwed with them. Simple math.â
That fire in her eyes hit him like a freight train. It made his chest tight, and, if he was honest, his pulse a little faster for entirely different reasons. âYouâre insane,â he said finally, smirking despite himself.
âYouâre welcome.â
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he leaned in and kissed her, slow, lingering, because yeah⊠she was insane, but she was his.
âCome on,â he said finally, voice low. âLetâs get the hell outta here before I start a fight I canât finish.â
They barely made it halfway down the hallway before Philâs fingers found hers again â not the casual, fleeting brush they sometimes shared, but a deliberate grip, threaded tight like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go. His hand was warm, solid, the kind of hold that tethered her to him no matter how many people they passed. The corridor stretched on, but the air between them was heavier than the carpet under their boots. He didnât even try to disguise it â the way his gaze stayed locked on her profile like a predator who had already decided the kill was his.
They passed a couple of people in the hallway to their room. One offered Phil a quiet nod. He didnât return it. He wasnât looking at anything but her.
By the time they reached the room, that look had only deepened. The second the door shut behind them, the quiet was deafening. Y/N turned, half ready to speak, but froze. That stare rooted her to the spot.
It wasnât anger. It wasnât the kind of heat you saw in the ring. It was quieter. More dangerous. His hoodie was still unzipped, hair a little mussed, eyes darker than theyâd been under the arena lights. âYou know,â he murmured, stepping forward at a pace that forced her to back up a fraction, âI still donât get you.â
Her brow arched. âDonât get me?â
âYeah,â he said, head tilting slightly, gaze dragging over the curve of her mouth like he was memorizing it. âHow someone like you could love someone like me this much. After⊠everything. The messes, the screw-ups, the nights Iâm more of an asshole than I am a boyfriend.â
Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. âYou think Iâm just here for the highlight reel?â
âI think youâre here because youâre out of your damn mind,â he shot back â but there was no bite, just a strange mix of disbelief and raw awe that she could feel in her chest.
She stepped closer, fingers catching the lapels of his hoodie and tugging gently. âIâm here because youâre mine. Good nights, bad nights⊠win or lose, youâre it for me, Phil.â
Something in him flickered, like sheâd just touched a locked part of him no one else had ever gotten near. His hands slid onto her waist, fingers curling over her hips as though anchoring himself.
âCareful,â he warned, voice low, almost gravel. âTalk like that, Iâm gonna forget why I was pissed off.â
âMaybe I want you to forget,â she teased, leaning in until her lips brushed his but didnât close the gap. âMaybe I like you better when youâre only thinking about me.â
A breath of a chuckle escaped him, dark, quiet, before he closed that space, catching her mouth in a kiss that was slow but bruising, the kind that left no question about who she belonged to.
When he pulled back, he stayed close enough for his breath to mingle with hers.
âYou know,â he murmured, thumb tracing her jawline, âweâve been at this for years. No titles. No rules. Just us. But every time Iâm with you⊠it feels like we already own the place.â
She smiled against his lips. âWeâre not stopping until we actually do.â
His eyes burned hotter. âAnd when we do, every single personâs gonna know you made me a king.â
âAnd you made me your queen,â she said without hesitation.
That snapped the last bit of restraint in him. His grip on her hips tightened, pulling her flush against him. âYou have no idea,â he murmured against her ear, his voice dropping into that gravelly tone that made her skin prickle, âhow many times Iâve thought about you like this. No cameras. No crowd. Just you telling me Iâm the only one who gets to put their hands on you.â
Her smirk was a slow burn. âWhy tell you⊠when I can show you?â
His jaw tightened. She could feel it under her lips as she kissed along his jawline, lingering just under his ear. He swore softly, catching her mouth again, the kiss rougher this time, the kind that stole every ounce of air from her lungs.
âYou love me like Iâve never been loved before,â he muttered against her lips, his hand sliding under the hem of her shirt to splay against warm skin.
âGood,â she whispered, eyes locked on his. âBecause no one else is getting the chance.â
That was the breaking point. His hands roamed higher, slow but certain, his mouth finding the line of her throat while she leaned back just enough to let him. The world outside their room didnât exist anymore. Every touch, every breath, was him claiming her all over again, and her letting him.
Phil pressed her back until she felt the wall behind her, his mouth slanting harder over hers, his tongue teasing at the seam of her lips until she opened for him. She tasted faintly of the powdered pastry she snaked from catering earlier, but underneath was just her. The taste he knew better than his own damn name.
When his hands slid down, gripping her hips and pulling her flush against him, she gasped against his mouth. He didnât let her pull away; he chased that sound like it was the only thing keeping him breathing.
âYou drive me insane,â he murmured against her lips, each word brushing hot over her skin. âAnd I swear you fucking love it.â
âI do,â she whispered back, her smirk barely there before he kissed it away.
His hands roamed â over her waist, up her spine, back down to the curve of her thighs. He lifted her without breaking the kiss, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The wall supported her, but it was him that held her there, solid and unshakable.
They were both breathing harder now, heat curling in the space between them. His mouth trailed from her lips to the line of her jaw, then lower, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot beneath her ear. She bit back a moan, but he caught it anyway, smiling against her skin.
âYeah,â he murmured, his voice rough. âThatâs mine.â
Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. âYouâre awfully sure of yourself.â
âDamn right,â he said, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. âYouâve been mine since the day you walked into my life. And nothing â nothing â is ever gonna change that.â
The way he said it made her chest ache in that dangerous, beautiful way. And when he kissed her again, slower this time, there was no mistaking it, he wasnât just claiming her body, he was laying his whole heart out in the open.
Y/N laces her hands through his hair, the unmistakable feeling of his erection grinding directly against her core. She gently massages the back of his head, a small moan escaping his lips. She swallows it with a need one could only consider primal.
She reluctantly pulls her lips from his, Phil opening his mouth to protest but is cut off as she maneuvers her way across his jaw and down his neck. Each kiss she leaves sends a round of chills down his spine. His chest rises and falls rapidly as his girlfriend skillfully traces shapes with her tongue along his perfectly salty skin. He gasps when she bites the connecting point between his neck and collarbone before marking him as hers.
âMakeups gonna have fun with that tomorrow,â he murmurs, not able to stop the way his hips continue grinding into her.
She hums before looking up at him and sucking another mark on the opposite side in the exact same spot. âGood⊠let it serve as a reminder.â
Without much warning, she unwraps her legs from his waist. Phil canât bring himself to do anything besides watch his girl as she drops down to her knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact. Her fingers trail up to the waistband of his pants before dipping below, just barely, but itâs enough to make his dick twitch behind the fabric. She licks her lips, tugging at the clothing.
âI know this weekend was hard for you,â she says, barely above a whisper. âBut if you let me⊠I wanna take care of you. Make you forget all about the sting of what happened. Show you that youâre the real champion. And that everyone else is just existing on borrowed time.â
Seeing the way sheâs so willing to do whatever it takes to stroke his ego, makes his cock grow even harder. Y/N licks her lips at the wet spot forming at the crotch of his pants. She doesnât wait for permission, the needy look in his eyes communicates it enough for her. She hooks her fingers through the waistband of both his pants and his underwear, sliding them down his legs with ease. Punk helps her out, stepping out of the leg holes before discarding them to some random corner of the room.
He tilts his head with a smug smirk as he watches his girlfriend salivate over his dick. The tip oozing with precum, bright red and ready for whatever she wants to do with it. Her lashes flutter as she looks up at him, leaning forward ever so slightly. Her tongue pokes out of her barely parted lips as she kitten licks his aching tip.
âFuckâŠâ he exhales shakily, the minimal contact still feeling like everything he could ever want.
Y/N smirks before trailing her tongue from the base to his tip, taking her sweet time, relishing in the way his toned stomach clenches from the sensation. He tilts his head, hand lacing through her hair as she leans forward and takes the whole length of him in her mouth. He tries not to yank her hair from the sudden wave of pleasure, but Y/N pulls back off of him briefly.
âDonât be gentle,â she commands. âI can take it.â
Phil raises an eyebrow, âSweetheart, I donât think thatâs a good idea.â
âI can take it,â she reiterates. âUse me. I know youâre still angry.â She grips the base of his cock with her hands, pumping slowly as she leans forward to suck on the part of his dick not covered by her hands. She bobs up and down, speaking when she can. âTake it out on me.â
Phil stares at the beautiful woman below him, moaning softly as she takes his entire length, drool pooling at the corner of her lips. Her bright eyes are begging him, pleading with him to lose control. His grip on her hair tightens, âIf I do this⊠thereâs no turning back,â he warns, voice dropping an octave. âNo begging me to stopââ
âFine,â Y/N nods, pulling off of him with an obscenely pornographic pop. âDeal. No begging. I can do it.â She nods, never more determined to do anything. âJust wanna make you feel good.â
She surges forward once again, his tip hitting the back of her throat. Philâs eyes roll into the back of his head as she manages to take him deeper, forcing herself to gag on his length. âJesus,â he praises. Thereâs nothing hotter to him than his woman forcing herself to gag on his cock. Not because sheâs forced to, but because she wants to.
He wastes no time after that. He fully grips her hair in his hand, holding her head in place as he pounds into her mouth at a relentless pace. She uses her tongue, working it around him like a professional. Like she was made to suck his dick. All of the anger he felt, the frustration thatâs been building up is all coming to a head, and sheâs taking it like a champ.
He feels himself twitch in her mouth as he sees a small bulge at the bottom of her throat. Her eyes are watering, mascara leaking down her cheeks, but sheâs never looked so damn satisfied. She likes this. Her nails are digging into his thigh as she silently begs for more.
He pulls her head backwards, âGet up,â he commands.
The gravelly tone of his voice shoots a jolt of arousal straight to her core. She stares at him, never breaking eye contact as she maneuvers to her feet. Thatâs one thing sheâs always killed him with, the way she can always keep her focus solely on him. He smashes his lips to hers, bruising and a lot less controlled. She wants him to let go, to use her, thatâs what sheâs going to get.
Y/N moans into his mouth, his tongue sliding past her lips and intertwining with hers. He can taste his own residue on her mouth and it makes him all the more impatient. He swats her ass, telling her to jump. She does as sheâs told, only removing her lips from his so he could see where he was going. She continues kissing down his neck, leaving another mark or two in her wake. There was no getting around this tomorrow night for Raw. Everyone is going to know. And truthfully, he doesnât care.
He tosses her on the bed, Y/N wasting no time as she scoots her way up to the pillows, her smile the most tantalizing thing heâs ever seen. He hadnât even realized sheâd been fully clothed the entire time. He can still see the way her gear pokes out from underneath her sweatpants and tank top. The image of the gold and black fabric clinging to her skin making him more turned on than before.
âStrip. And do it slowly.â
Y/N just grins all innocently as she reaches for her top first. The way she looks at him, all cute and soft, acting as if she isnât the filthiest woman heâs ever met. She does as he asks, slowly pulling the top of her head to reveal that same gear piece heâd been thinking about all night. She loops her hands behind her, untying the back which allows the entire thing to fall off her body. His attention is suddenly only focused on the perked nipples staring directly at him. His tongue darts across his lips, and before she can even start at her sweatpants and bottoms, heâs lunging forward.
Y/N moans, hands shooting up to his hair as Phil sucks her right nipple into his mouth. The sensitive peak causes another wave of arousal to crash over her. She knows sheâs soaked through her gear and most likely her pants. Thereâs no way the cloth has been able to hide how hot and bothered she gets by this man.
Her head flies back as he sucks a mark into her breast before moving over to the next and repeating the same process. She enjoys the way his teeth graze the flesh. She gently massages his head like she always does, hands running through his hair. It only spurs him on more as he starts grinding his still thick erection against her thigh.
âYouâre fucking crazy, you know that?â He mumbles against her skin, kissing down her stomach until he reaches her sweats. He slides them off, leaving her just in her gear bottoms. âGoing out there and getting involved in Lynchâs match. All for me.â
Y/N nods, âAll for you,â she agrees. âWanted everyone to know I did it for you.â
Punk laughs, dark and almost evil. He moves a hand up, cupping her pussy with his hand. He can feel the heat radiating off her, the way sheâs dripping and begging to be fucked. âYouâve always been a cock slut, havenât you? I knew you were wet before, but after you get my cock in your mouth, you turn into a fucking drinking fountain.â
Y/N moans at the words. Some nights she adores it when they make love, but other days, she really does need it rough. And quite frankly, so does he. He slowly pulls her bottoms off, loving the way her pussy clenched around nothing when itâs exposed to the air. Once he gets them fully off, he lifts the fabric up to his face, shoving his nose into the wet spot where she had been dripping for God knows how long.
âSo fucking sweet,â he mumbles. He glances at her, watching as she tries her hardest not to move without his permission. Sheâs always been such a good girl. He grins, looking directly into her eyes as he sticks his tongue out, licking the remnants of her juices off the bottoms.
Y/N moans at the sight, growing more and more needy. He doesnât make it any better when he groans lowly, closing his eyes as he relishes in her taste. She doesnât have to say anything though as heâs suddenly crouching down, grabbing her thighs forcefully. âThat was good, but I think I want it directly from the source.â
Without warning, he shoves her legs further apart, diving face first into her aching heat. Y/N arches her back without prompting, careful not to close her legs. Sheâs learned the hard way not to move unless he tells her to. His tongue probes in and out of her perfectly, he knows her body better than she does. She whines as his finger finds that rosy bud that makes her see stars. âThatâs right whore,â he chuckles against her core. âLet me hear how good I make you feel.â
He was relentless with his ministrations. Y/N couldnât keep quiet even if she wanted to. She knows their neighbors can hear exactly what theyâre doing, but the thought of people hearing how good Punk is with his mouth turns her on even more. âShit,â she says in a breathy whisper. âFeels so fucking good.â
Her pleasure only intensifies as he buries a finger inside her pulsing core. His tongue moves up to her clit as he starts pounding into her with his finger. He wastes no time before shoving a second and then third finger inside of her. He lifts his head, beard drenched in her juices. Seeing her this fucked out just from his tongue and fingers is enough to make him cum on its own. âYouâre such a good girl. Goinâ out there and getting even for me,â he praises her. âAnd now youâre letting me use you how I please. How did I get so lucky?â
Y/Nâs always been a sucker for his praise. Phil simply groans into her core when he feels more of her arousal gush around his fingers. He knows her inside and out. Sheâs never been able to resist how he talks to her. She always said her favorite thing about him is his mouth.
âIâm the lucky one,â she finally manages to gasp out as he starts pistoning his fingers in and out of her. âSo lucky.â The next sound that comes out of her is a mix between a scream and a moan. âFuck! I love you.â
Phil licks one more stripe up her pussy, pulling his fingers out as he crawls up to her. He smashes his lips to hers, Y/N moaning as her own arousal spills into the mouth. She loves the burn his beard leaves on her face. âI love you too,â he mumbles against her lips.
Y/N loses all sense of the world around her as he slides his dick inside of her. Phil curses lowly, enjoying the way she encases him perfectly. âYouâre so tight fâme,â he whispers against her jaw. âFitting me like a fucking glove, princess.â
She can feel every part of him splitting her open. Heâs buried to the hilt inside of her and she knows what sheâs in for. She feels him slowly pull out, both of them watching his dick slide out of her, coated in her slick. Both of them are entranced by the sight until suddenly heâs shoving himself back inside with no remorse.
Y/N gasps but itâs cut off by Philâs hand curling around her throat. Itâs not enough to hurt her, but itâs enough to make her feel lightheaded, amplifying the pleasure sheâs getting from the man above her. âStupid fucking Rollins,â he growls. âThinkinâ he can take my championship.â He leans down, sucking a ready nipple into his mouth, biting down slightly. âHe has no idea whatâs coming to him, does he? Has no idea how crazy my girl is. How far sheâs willing to go to get me what I want.â
Y/N tries to nod her head, eyes hazy. Phil just smirks at the blissed out look on her face as he plows into her. His pelvis practically meets hers with how deep heâs going. She knows sheâs going to bruise, and part of her wants them to be the deepest and most colored bruises sheâs ever had. She wants people to see how he owns her.
âIâll do whatever you want,â Y/N mewls, voice raspy from the way heâs still constricting her airways. âIâll burn it all down for you.â
Punk chuckles, leaning down to kiss her once more. âThatâs my girlâŠâ
He pummels her pussy, finally removing his hand from her throat so he can place it on her lower stomach, amplifying the pressure his cock is providing her. Y/Nâs mouth falls open in a silent scream. Her hands shoot up towards his back, her nails raking perfect lines down his skin. Punk groans, loving the way it feels.
âGod, Iâm obsessed with you,â he grumbles, each thrust hitting her cervix harder. He nuzzles his nose into her neck, breathing in the aroma thatâs so specifically her. He kisses the sensitive spot behind her ear, a rush of chills forming on her skin. âYou donât even realize what you do to me. What runs through my mind when I see you walking backstage in the skimpy shit you call gear.â Y/N cries out as he hits that spongy spot inside of her over and over again without stopping. âMy perfect slut.â
Y/N rolls her hips back into him, moaning into the now humid air. She pulls him closer to her, his chest now pressing against hers as he continues thrusting into her. âYou like that?â He asks mockingly. âYou like knowing how fucking crazy you drive me?â He sucks another mark on her neck this time, the fingerprints from how he was choking her still present. âAnd that sometimes I just canât help myself. Iâll go back and watch some of your old matches just to jerk off at how fucking sexy you look.â
And just like that, the coil inside her snapped. Her entire body shudders, pussy clamping around his cock as if it was trying to suck all the life out of it. However, he didnât lighten up. She said he could use her how he pleased, and he planned on it.
Punk curses, pounding into her faster now. The overstimulation makes tears brim at the corner of her eyes, but she knows better than to beg him to stop. She wanted this and he needs it. He reaches up, groping her breast roughly as his thrusts become sloppy.
âIâm gonna cum inside this pussy,â he pants, sweat forming at his brow. Y/N arches her back, nodding frantically. âThatâs what you want, huh? Want my seed so fucking deep that everyone will know who you come to bat for?â
Y/N gasps, silently affirming everything heâs saying. She can feel her second orgasm building as he pounds into her a few more times. It only takes one more look at her completely undone form for him to explode inside of her. He yells out a string of curses before leaning down to kiss her bruisingly, hips stuttering. He barely pulls away, glancing down at where their bodies are joined, his cock covered in cum, glistening in the light like the most holy thing heâs ever seen. She winces slightly as he starts pulling out, but part of him canât resist. He slowly brings his hand up, fingering her clit thatâs still pulsing between her folds.
Y/N flinches, another wanton moan escaping her lips. Her pussy lips are puffy and perfectly coated in the cum thatâs slowly dripping out of her. He doesnât let much escape though before shoving his finger back inside of her, not letting a single ounce of his spunk go to waste.
Y/N pretty much falls limp, her body sinking further into the mattress beneath her. Her chest rises and falls with every bated breath. Sheâs been in a lot of taxing matches before, but none of them have taken her out more than this.
The roomâs still thick with heat, the sheets a mess of tangled fabric and flushed skin. Punkâs breath fans against her neck as he slowly pushes himself up, bracing his forearm against the mattress while the other stays lazily draped over her stomach.
"Jesus," he murmurs, still catching his breath, his voice rough but threaded with amusement. "Youâre gonna be the death of me, yâknow that?"
Y/N smirks, eyes still half-lidded. "Youâve been saying that for years. Still kicking though."
Punk chuckles low in his chest, brushing damp hair from her forehead before pressing a kiss there. "Barely."
He sits back, taking a long look at her like heâs trying to burn the image into his brain. She doesnât flinch from it, sheâs long past shying away from the way he watches her.
"Yâknow⊠you might think youâre slick, getting off on my ring gear," she teases softly, fingers dragging down his arm. "But I always knew. I just liked it too much to call you out."
That earns her a lopsided grin. "Shouldâve known youâd turn my creepy into romantic."
"You make it too easy." She leans up, brushing her lips across his jaw before pulling back. "Now help me up before I actually melt into the mattress."
He rolls his eyes but slips an arm under her legs and one behind her back, lifting her with an ease that makes her roll hers right back. "Show-off."
"Shut up and let me take care of you."
In the bathroom, steam curls up from the tub heâs already started filling. He lowers her in slowly, like heâs afraid she might bruise if he moves too fast. The water laps against her skin, and before she can tease him again, he steps in behind her, settling so her back rests against his chest.
"Comfy?" he murmurs against her ear.
"Mhm. Could get used to this."
"You should," he says, like itâs a promise.
For a while, they just sit in the quiet, the only sounds the water shifting when he drags his hands lazily along her arms. "So," he starts, breaking the stillness, "about the whole Becky thing. Interviews, fan questions⊠whatâs the game plan?"
She tilts her head back enough to meet his eyes. "Easy. I tell them I did it because it was fun, and because messing with people is one of my hobbies."
Punk snorts. "Cute. But you know theyâre gonna try to spin it into some big dramatic storyline about me not being able to fight my own battles."
"Let âem," she says, without missing a beat. "You donât need to prove anything to them. And for the record? Iâd do it all over again. Ten times. Just to watch their faces when I walked out there."
Something shifts in his expression then, softer, almost reverent. He kisses her temple, lingering a little longer than necessary.
"I love you⊠more than anything," he murmurs.
Y/N smiles, her cheeks flushing from how soft he sounds saying it. âI love you too.â Her fingers find his under the water, tangling together. "I hope you know youâre stuck with me forever, Punker. No matter what.â
He doesnât say it, but the thought hits him like a freight train. Yeah⊠Forever sounds about right.
The crowd was still a roar in her bones when she stepped through the curtain. Signs with her name and Punkâs blurred together in a neon sea, some praising her, others cursing her, but all of them loud. Y/N didnât rush. She let the reaction breathe, soaking in the split of cheers and boos like they were oxygen.
Her and Paul agreed for her to cut a promo about why she did what she did. It was a perfect way to set up a feud and explain storyline wise why she did what she did. While it was more personal than it was for work, they had to find a good way to intertwine the two.
She slid under the bottom rope, straightened to her full height, and leaned against the ropes with the mic in hand. The noise swelled again.
"YâknowâŠ" She took a deep breath, letting her gaze drift over the arena. "Iâve never liked liars. Not in my personal life, not in this ring, not anywhere. And lucky me, I work in a place where the biggest liar of them all holds the World Heavyweight Championship."
A fresh wave of boos rained down at the not-so-subtle shot.
"Seth Rollins," she said, pacing the ring now. "A man who spent months⊠no, years⊠talking about hard work, about earning your spot, about fighting with honor. A man who loves to preach about being the standard in WWE."
She stopped dead center, smirking without humor. "And yet, the second CM Punk claws his way back to the top after ten damn years⊠the second he earns his shot fair and square⊠Rollins throws every word heâs ever said into the trash because heâs too bitter, too jealous, to let someone else shine."
The crowd roared again â some agreeing, some trying to drown her out. "Punk deserved that title more than anyone in this company," she continued, her voice sharpening. "And Seth couldnât take it. Couldnât handle that maybe, just maybe, someone was better than him. So he cheated. He played dirty. He took something he didnât deserve."
She paused, adjusting her grip on the mic. "And when someone like Seth wants to fight dirty? Well⊠I can do that too. I didnât get revenge. I got even. And you can cry about it on Twitter, you can chant about it in this arena, but the fact isâ"
Cult of Personality hit like a thunderclap. The crowd exploded.
Her head snapped toward the stage, expecting Becky, maybe Seth â definitely not him. Punk stepped out in his classic tee and jeans, hair damp, smirk carved across his face like heâd just won the lottery.
"What the hellâŠ" she muttered under her breath as he started down the ramp, slapping a few outstretched hands along the way.
When he slid into the ring, she leaned toward him, mic lowered. "What are you doing out here?"
He just grinned wider, like he was in on a joke she hadnât heard yet. Punk took the other mic from the timekeeper and turned to face the crowd. "I wasnât gonna come out here. Figured this was your moment to talk your talk. But, uhâŠ" He glanced at her, eyes glinting. "Turns out Iâve got a couple things to get off my chest."
The arena quieted just enough for him to start pacing. "First of all⊠yeah, I lost. Seth Rollins beat me. You can call it skill, you can call it strategy, you can call it whatever helps you sleep at night. But hereâs the thing â I donât stay down. Iâm not done. Iâm getting that title back, and when I do, thereâs not a damn thing Seth can do about it."
The crowd popped. He pointed toward Y/N. "And Iâve got her to thank for reminding me what kind of fight Iâm capable of. âCause she didnât just watch from the sidelines. She didnât let someone she loves get screwed over and shrug it off. She went out there and made sure they knew there are consequences for screwing with us."
Y/N smirked a little at that, but before she could respond, Punkâs voice shifted. Lower. More deliberate. "But thereâs something else," he said, stepping closer until they were just a foot apart. "Something Iâve been thinking about for a long time. Because the truth is⊠Iâve had a lot of fights in my life. In this ring. Outside of it. But the best fight Iâve ever been in was keeping you."
Her chest tightened. This was not where she thought this was going.
"Iâm not an easy guy to love," Punk went on, eyes locked on hers. "Hell, Iâve spent most of my life convinced I didnât even deserve it. But you⊠for some reason Iâll never understand, youâve been here. Through every high, every low, every self-inflicted mess Iâve made. And not only did you stay⊠you made me better."
The arena was pin-drop silent now, thousands of people watching a private moment unfold under the brightest lights. "You make me want to be the guy you already think I am," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "And you make me feel like maybe⊠just maybe⊠Iâve got more to fight for than titles or glory or proving people wrong. Maybe the whole point was just⊠finding you."
Her eyes burned, and she shook her head slightly, trying to blink it away. And then Punk reached into his pocket, and the crowd lost it.
Y/Nâs hand flew to her mouth as he dropped to one knee, mic still in hand, holding out a ring box. "I couldâve done this last night, or in a hotel room, or somewhere quiet where it was just us," he said over the deafening noise. "But I want this on record. I want this on tape so we can play it back when weâre old and cranky and yelling at kids to get off our lawn. I want every single person here to see what you mean to me."
He flipped open the box. "Y/N⊠will you marry me?"
The pop from the crowd was deafening. She was laughing through the tears now, shaking her head like she couldnât believe it. But she was nodding before she even realized it. "Yeah," she breathed. "Of course I will."
Punk stood, sliding the ring onto her finger, and they kissed dead center in the ring while the place absolutely erupted.
When they finally broke apart, she grinned at him through glassy eyes. "You are such a sap."
"Yeah, but Iâm your sap," he shot back without missing a beat. "And now everybody knows it."
cmpunk
liked by y/nwrestles, americannightmarecody, roxanne_wwe, and 150,456 others
tagged: y/nwrestles
cmpunk: She said yes đ
View all 10,125 comments
y/nwrestles: about damn time, old man. 08.04.25 â€ïž
619iamlucha: Congrats, you two! Couldnât be happier for you both đ
charlottewwe: Finally!!! Love this so much. Youâre perfect for each other đ
uceyjucey: Happy for you, Uce. Lock it down. đ
biancabelairwwe: This is the CUTEST đ so happy for yâall!!
tripleh: Congratulations! Now letâs get this wedding booked before your next match. đ
mikethemiz: Congrats! Canât wait for the bachelor party. đ»
roxanne_wwe: my parents are finally getting married đđđ
rhearipley_wwe: This is actually adorable. Congrats.
wrestlingfangirl93: this is literally my roman empire đđđ
cmpunkspromos: NO WAY?? THE POWER COUPLE IS ENGAGED đđ„
wrestleobsessed: Iâm crying in the club rn.
straightedgearmy: Congrats to my fav wrestler and the only person cooler than him đ
lariatlover88: the way he looks at her >>>
heartbroken_hogan: Damn, was really hoping Iâd be the one marrying Y/N. Guess Iâm screwed đđ
cmpunk: Damnnnnn, nice try though. Sheâs. mine, but keep practicing.
wrestlingwithmyfeelings: CM PUNK⊠SOFT?? never thought Iâd see the day
steelcagequeen: Iâd let y/n suplex me any day but sheâs taken now đ congrats tho
crowdpopmaster: this better be the wedding of the decade
Taking a red eye to Chicago right after a show had to have been one of the worst ideas Y/N has ever had. Sheâs used to the exhaustion, but this is a different level. A loud yawn escapes her lips as she debarks from the plane, grabbing her small carry-on and walking towards the front of the plane. While sheâs tired, she doesnât regret her decision. Sheâs excited. She hasnât seen a live hockey game in years.
Phil was the one who originally got her into the sport. First person to bring her to a game, first person to show her the excitement it brings. She loves the violence of it all, the competition. So sheâs more than thrilled to be able to go see the game.
A few weeks ago if someone wouldâve told her sheâd say yes to seeing a hockey game with Phil Brooks, she wouldâve laughed and probably slapped whoever implied sheâd do such a thing. But things change. They might not be back to where they were before things went to the crapper between them, but theyâre healing. And this is another great step in the right direction. A hockey game between friends.
Friends.
Right?
Y/N shakes the thought from her head before finally reaching baggage claim. Sheâs grateful no one has approached her in the airport. She doesnât mind taking photos or signing items, but with how she looks right now, sheâd feel terrible for the poor fan whoâd be subject to that photo.
âDamn, you sure you wanna see a hockey game?â A sarcastic voice fills her ears. âYou look like you might need a nap instead.â
Y/N turns on her heel as she grabs her suitcase, seeing Phil standing not even five feet away. His hands are shoved into his own merch hoodie pockets, sweats hanging loosely around his legs. Heâs got a baseball cap on that manages to make his angular features look even sharper. His bright eyes are accentuated by the little crows feet embedded in his skin.
Y/N canât help the small smile that stretches across her lips. Itâs tired, but still the most beautiful thing Phil has ever seen. It always has been. âGood thing the game isnât for another ten hours,â she replies with just as much sarcasm. âIâd say I can get a quick hour in.â
âYouâre really gonna spend the fleeting time we have together on a nap?â He teases, taking his hands out of his pockets as she walks closer.
âHey, itâs not my fault you asked me the night before to go to a hockey game,â she smirks. âYouâre lucky I missed it enough to say yes.â
Phil raises an eyebrow at her, mouth twitching in amusement. âSo basically, Iâm your enabler. Good to know.â
Y/N rolls her eyes, but itâs accompanied by a quiet laugh as she steps in closer. The exhaustion still lingers under her skin, but seeing him like thisâlooking like himself, like homeâit softens something inside her.
âYouâre lucky I like you,â she mumbles, and before she can register the movement, his arms are around her.
The hug isnât rushed or awkward like it might be with someone else. No, this is the kind of hug that feels lived-in. Familiar. Like muscle memory. He smells the sameâclean laundry, leather, and the faintest bit of his cologneâand it hits her so hard that her throat goes a little dry. Her body molds against his without hesitation, her cheek resting briefly against his shoulder as her fingers tighten in the soft fabric of his hoodie.
She forgot what this felt like. Not just the embrace, but the comfort of being seen by him. Of being known.
Phil doesnât say anything. He just holds her. And it lasts longer than either of them probably meant it to. Finally, he pulls backâjust enough to look at her.
âYou gonna pass out on me mid-hug?â
She chuckles softly, brushing a hand through her hair as she steps back. âNo promises.â
Heâs already reaching for the handle of her suitcase, effortlessly tugging it from her grasp.
âYou donât have to carry that,â she protests, though the edge in her voice is more playful than serious.
Phil shrugs, already turning toward the exit. âYou took a red-eye and look like you lost a fight to TSA. Least I can do is carry your bag.â
âWow, chivalryâs not dead. It just has tattoos and a resting bitch face.â
âAccurate.â
They walk side by side toward the parking lot. The rhythm of their footsteps syncs up the way it always used to. Itâs easy like that with him. Always was.
As they step out into the warm haze of early morning Chicago air, Y/N inhales deeply. The scent of car exhaust, fried food from a nearby stand, and the unmistakable weight of city life rushes into her lungs. Her lips part in a soft smile.
âGod,â she says. âI missed this.â
Phil looks at her sideways as he unlocks his car. âThe pollution?â
âNo,â she laughs. âThe chaos. The noise. The character. I missed walking down these streets, yâknow? Back when we were tagging, weâd always have a day or two to just run around. Grab breakfast somewhere that looked good, climb up to the roof of a parking garage for no reasonâŠâ
âYou made us do that twice,â he reminds her, smirking as he tosses her bag into the trunk. âThe second time there was a raccoon.â
She grins. âHe was part of the experience.â
They both slide into the car, the familiar creak of the doors filling the quiet between them. Phil starts the engine, fingers drumming briefly on the steering wheel before his voice cuts in, softer this time.
âSo, uhâŠâ he pauses like heâs not sure if he should askâbut does anyway. âYou stopped doing all that. The wandering around. Was that⊠because of me?â
Y/Nâs smile falters. Not in a bitter wayâjust thoughtful. The air shifts slightly. Her hands rest in her lap as she looks out the windshield at the awakening city.
âI think⊠yeah,â she admits. âIt just hurt. Walking the streets we used to own without you beside me felt weird. Like I was playing dress-up. Pretending nothing changed. So, I just⊠stopped.â
Phil doesnât reply right away. Just nods slowly, eyes still on the road. Thereâs something heavy and quiet about the way he processes itâlike heâs adding it to a list of things he regrets but canât quite fix.
She breaks the silence after a beat. âBut today feels different.â
Phil flicks his eyes toward her, one brow raised. âThat because youâre too tired to care, or because you missed me?â
Y/N meets his gaze, deadpan. âCould be both.â
He grins. âFair.â
She leans her head back against the seat, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
âYou hungry?â he asks after a moment, adjusting the mirror.
âStarving.â
âThereâs this place Iâve been going to lately. Little hole-in-the-wall joint. You cool holding out for another hour before that nap you keep daydreaming about?â
She hums thoughtfully. âMmm. Depends. Are you going to carry me in there if I collapse?â
Phil smirks. âOnly if you tip me.â
âIâll tip you in sarcasm and trauma bonding.â
His laugh rumbles low in his throat. âPerfect. You always were generous.â
They pull out into traffic, the city beginning to stretch and wake around them, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like things might be okay again.
Maybe not fixed. But maybe⊠familiar enough to start over.
The bell above the door gave a tired little jingle as they stepped inside. The place smelled like maple syrup and melted butter â one of those hole-in-the-wall diners that had seen better days but still cooked like the gods. Mismatched mugs clinked behind the counter, and a waitress in an old Blackhawks jersey barely looked up as she called out a lazy, âSit wherever.â
Y/Nâs eyes lit up instantly. âOkay, yeah. Iâm about to demolish a stack of pancakes the size of my head.â
Phil chuckled low beside her, sliding into a booth near the window. âYou say that like itâs a challenge. You forget Iâve watched you take a powerbomb through a table and walk it off. Pancakes donât stand a chance.â
She gave him a smirk before sitting across from him, shedding her jacket and shaking out her hair. The sunlight caught her just right, warm and golden, and Phil found himself watching a little longer than he meant to.
The years hadnât dulled her spark. If anything, it made it sharper.
She caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. âWhat?â
âNothinâ,â he muttered, grabbing a menu. âJust wondering if youâre still the same menace who used to steal my fries when I wasnât looking.â
âI didnât steal your fries,â she said sweetly, opening her own menu. âI sampled them. Big difference.â
He looked up at her over the top of his menu. âYou sampled half the plate.â
She shrugged. âShouldâve ordered more.â
The waitress came by, chewing gum and barely waiting for them to finish their order before heading back to the kitchen. Y/N leaned back in the booth, stretching her arms with a small, content sigh.
âI missed this,â she said quietly. âPlaces like this. The ones you find on accident at midnight, after a show. They always smelled like grease and freedom.â
Phil tilted his head. âMissed Chicago too?â
A beat passed. Her gaze flicked out the window, thoughtful. âYeah. A lot more than I expected.â
âBecause of me?â
Her eyes slowly returned to his, and something raw flickered between them. âYou already know the answer to that,â she says, face softening as she keeps her gaze on him.
He nodded once. Didnât push, didnât probe. Just accepted it.
âYou ever think about a change in scenery?â he asked a moment later, casual as anything.
Y/N looked up, suspicious. âWhat does that even mean?â
He smirked. âNothing really. I guess Iâm just wondering how long youâre gonna keep running SmackDown with the Bloodline. That angleâs been going forever.â
âWeâve already talked about this,â Y/N laughs softly. âYou say that like Iâm not the backbone of the whole operation.â
âOh, you absolutely are,â he said, picking up his water. âYou carry that entire faction on your back. Roman should be sending you flowers weekly.â
Y/N grinned, proud. âHe sends me custom gear instead.â
Phil laughed, shaking his head. âOf course he does. Tribal Chief knows whatâs up.â
Then, a beat of quiet. Her voice softened. âWould you think Iâm crazy if I said I was thinking about Raw?â
His eyes flicked to hers. For a second, no sarcasm â just sincerity. âIâd think youâre finally making the right call.â
Their food arrived, steaming and glorious. Y/Nâs pancakes were indeed massive, and Philâs skillet looked like it could feed a family of four. He was barely three bites in before she forked a piece of his hash browns and popped it into her mouth.
He gave her a flat look. âYou literally just got done defending your pancakes.â
She shrugged, mouth full. âTheyâre good, but yours smell better.â
âUnbelievable,â he muttered, pushing the plate slightly in her direction anyway.
Their knees brushed under the table. Neither moved. It wasnât deliberate â at least not at first â but neither of them pulled away either. Something warm sat between them, unspoken but tangible.
âI think I forgot how easy this was,â she said after a while, quietly.
He looked at her. âBeing around each other?â
âYeah.â
Phil smiled, soft and slow. âYou didnât forget. You just tried to.â
She didnât answer that â didnât need to. Instead, she stole another bite of his food and kicked his shin under the table, and he couldnât stop grinning even if he tried.
As soon as the door opened, Y/Nâs face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. She barely took a full step inside before dropping to the floor with a loud, joyful gasp.
âLarry!â
The dog came bounding out from around the corner, paws scrambling across the hardwood, tail wagging so hard it looked like it might fall off. He launched into her arms without hesitation, and Y/N caught him with a laugh that bubbled up from somewhere deep in her chest. She hugged him tight as he licked at her face, whining excitedly.
Phil leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a crooked smile tugging at his lips. âJesus, heâs obsessed with you.â
âI know,â she said, unapologetic, giggling as she wiped slobber from her cheek. âYou should be jealous.â
âI am jealous,â he replied dryly, âIâve never seen him lose his shit over me like that.â
Still on the floor, she gave Larry another affectionate squeeze. âThatâs because I have a soul.â
Phil snorted. âDebatable.â
Eventually, she stood, still holding Larry like he was some overgrown stuffed animal. She followed Phil into the main part of the house, letting her eyes wander. It was clean, sureâimmaculate, even. But it was alsoâŠbare. Lacking warmth. The furniture was modern and minimal, the walls mostly empty. A few guitars leaned against the wall in his office space, a title belt sat in a display case by the TV, but beyond that⊠it didnât say much about the man who lived there.
Y/N raised an eyebrow. âOkay, whereâs all the personality? No photos? No cheesy art prints? No weird souvenirs from obscure comic shops?â
He shrugged, tossing his keys onto the counter. âNever saw the point.â
She gave him a look. âYou live here, donât you?â
âTechnically.â
âYou technically live here?â she repeated, giving Larry a scratch behind the ears as she took another slow look around. âI mean, itâs nice. It just doesnât feel like⊠you.â
Phil rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing over at her. âItâs just been me and Larry for a long time. Iâm not big on throw pillows and fake plants, if thatâs what youâre fishing for.â
She grinned. âI love throw pillows. And youâre absolutely the kind of man who needs a fake plant or two.â
âIâll pass,â he said. âBesides, when Iâm not home that often, why bother? Larry comes on the road with me half the time anyway. Itâs just⊠easier to keep things simple.â
Her smile faded just a little, her voice softening. âYou deserve more than simple, Phil. Everyone deserves to feel like they have a home. Not just a crash pad between shows.â
He didnât respond right away. Just gave her a small nod, one that almost looked like it hurt a bit. But she didnât press it. She just walked over to the couch and flopped down with Larry curled up next to her. Phil joined her, grabbing the remote and flipping through the streaming apps until he landed on something familiar.
They didnât talk much once the movie startedânot because they didnât have anything to say, but because it felt nice not to fill every silence. They still teased each other, nudging knees, playfully pushing shoulders. At one point, she stole the blanket he was using. He retaliated by stealing it back. Larry eventually settled right between them like a living, breathing barrier they both reached over to pet from time to time.
And even with the television humming in the background, and the quiet city just beyond the windows, it felt strangely still. Peaceful. Like a moment suspended in time.
Y/N glanced over at Phil a little later, noticing the way his head was starting to tilt, his breathing slowing. His eyes were half-lidded, body slack with exhaustion. She smiled, her chest tightening in that annoying, familiar way it always did around him.
âSoftie,â she whispered under her breath.
Carefully, she slid off the couch, trying not to wake him. Larry cracked one eye open but didnât move. She grabbed her shoes by the door and slipped them on silently, casting one more glance back at the two of themâPhil half-asleep, Larry guarding his spot.
She didnât leave because she wanted to be gone. She left because she had plans. Throw pillows, a few framed photos, maybe even a plant. She was gonna make his house feel like a home. Whether he liked it or not.
The Uber ride wasnât long, but Y/N still stared out the window like it was a life-changing trip. Maybe it kind of was. Her heart was beating fast in her chestânot from nerves, but something warmer. Like a bubbling joy she wasnât used to. Her phone buzzed with a new message, but she ignored it. Her thoughts were tangled up in Philâs quiet smile and the way Larry had practically leapt into her arms like theyâd known each other forever.
She hadnât planned on doing this. Hell, a few weeks ago, if someone told her sheâd be in Chicago shopping for home goods for himâfor Philâshe wouldâve laughed in their face and probably thrown in a sharp insult for good measure. But now? Now she was walking through the glass doors of HomeGoods like she was on a damn mission.
The smell hit her first. That strange combination of wood polish, faux lavender, and whatever candle scent corporate thought screamed âcozy.â She grabbed a cart, the metal wheels squeaking as she pushed it forward with a purpose.
Her first stop was the throw pillows. She ran her fingers over a fewâmost of them too bright, too soft, too not Phil. Then she saw it. A burnt-orange pillow with âItâs Clobberinâ Timeâ stitched across the front in blocky letters. A cartoon version of The Thing from Fantastic Four was embroidered into the corner, his rocky fists raised like he was ready to fight God himself.
Y/N snorted and picked it up, hugging it to her chest for a second before tossing it into the cart. âAlright, thatâs a little on the nose,â she muttered to herself, but she was already grinning. It was ridiculous, and maybe even tacky, but it was him. She could already imagine it on that too-clean couch of his, like a small rebellion against the sterile vibe of the place.
She moved through the aisles with a focus that surprised even her. A dark wool throw blanket, the kind that looked like it was made for brutal Midwest wintersâgray and understated, but warm. A set of deep navy-blue ceramic mugs that looked like they belonged in a noir film. She pictured Phil sipping coffee out of one in the morning with Larry curled at his feet and her beside him, maybe. Just maybe.
She added a framed black-and-white photo of the Chicago skyline, one that didnât feel corny or touristy, but like it belonged in his place. Something that nodded to the roots he was so fiercely proud of. She passed on anything too rustic, too modern, too farmhouse. She wasnât trying to turn his place into a Pinterest board. She just wanted it to feel like him. Like home.
She found a small wooden sign tucked behind some cluttered endcap, and the quote on it stopped her in her tracks.
âI never dreamed about success. I worked for it. The script was simple, no glitter or nonsense. It wasnât flowery. It was raw. Honest. She didnât even thinkâjust added it to the cart with a quiet breath.
And then came the candle aisle.
âOh boy,â she whispered, dragging her fingers across the rows of glass jars. Most of them were awful. One smelled like overly sugared bourbon and instant regret. Another made her gag and question if anyoneâs home should smell like âforest musk.â But then she found one labeled âLeather & Smoke.â She popped the lid, and her eyes fluttered closed.
âGod,â she mumbled, âthis smells like him.â Like worn-in jackets, long nights, and the subtle kind of danger that pulled her in no matter how many times she swore she wouldnât fall. Into the cart it went.
She was halfway to the checkout line when she passed a small section for dog toys and treats. Larry. She backtracked so fast the wheels squealed. She knelt, grinning as she picked out a ridiculous stuffed taco with a squeaker inside, then a plush wrestling belt that made her snort out loud.
âAlright, champ,â she whispered to herself, âyouâre getting spoiled today.â
Y/N stood in line, her cart full of warm, meaningful chaos, and caught her reflection in a nearby mirror. She looked different. Not in a dramatic way, but something in her eyes was softer. Lighter. She wasnât shopping to impress him. She wasnât trying to manipulate or force her way in. She was doing this because she wanted to. Because something about being in his space, around him, felt right. It felt like the beginning of something she didnât even realize sheâd been craving.
And no, she definitely did not hate Phil Brooks.
She smiled down at the âItâs Clobberinâ Timeâ pillow again.
Y/N unlocked the door as quietly as possible, her arms full of bags, balancing a small framed piece between her pinky and thumb. The apartment was still, bathed in that soft morning light that streamed through the partially open blinds. She poked her head inside cautiously.
Phil was out. Full-on sprawled across the couch, one arm over his face, the other dangling off the edge where Larry had clearly been laying before getting up. His socked foot twitched slightly. A soft snore followed.
But Larry?
Larry was wide awake.
The moment he saw her, his tail thumped excitedly against the floor. Y/N knelt with an exaggerated shush and opened her arms. Larry, to his credit, trotted over with a quiet happy whine, his whole body vibrating with excitement as he shoved his face into her chest.
âI missed you too, buddy,â she whispered, scratching behind his ears and laughing silently as he tried to climb into her lap despite the bags surrounding her. âBut we gotta keep it down. You and me? Weâre on a mission.â
Larry seemed to understand, falling into step beside her as she moved through the apartment.
First stop? The couch.
She set the âItâs Clobberinâ Time!â pillow carefully in the corner, smoothing the fabric with reverence. It was ridiculous. It was him. And it made her grin like an idiot.
âYou like that one, huh?â she whispered to Larry. âI saw it and I was like, âYeah. Thatâs definitely your dad.ââ
Larry gave a soft huff of approval.
One by one, she pulled out her finds. A couple of warm-toned throw blankets she folded and draped over the edge of the couch. A subtle burnt orange one that reminded her of fall in Chicago, and a dark grey one that felt like himâsimple, grounded.
She padded quietly into the kitchen, laying down a matte black âCOFFEE IS FOR CLOSERSâ sign against the backsplash, and beside it, a little framed photo sheâd found online of Punk at one of his earliest indie matchesâyoung, wild-eyed, drenched in sweat and defiance. It wasnât posed. It wasnât perfect. It was real.
Back in the living room, she found the perfect spot on the wall for a small collage of photos. Sheâd found a few online, a couple from old matches, one from when heâd met Stan Lee, and one sheâd taken herself, years ago, of him with Larry asleep in his armsâmatted, framed, and hung like a relic. The final touch? A small wooden plaque that read âYou Donât Have to Be Perfect to Be Home.â
She was humming under her breath, standing on a small foldable step stool, reaching to hang the last frameâa black-and-white shot of Phil and Kofi laughing backstage at a show. The frame shook just slightly in her fingers when she heard the familiar sound.
A sleepy, gravelly mumble.
â...The hell?â
She turned on the stool, one hand still holding the frame against the wall. Phil was upright now, blinking at her like she might be a mirage. His hair was tousled, his grey sweatpants slightly twisted from the way heâd passed out on the couch. Larry padded over to him and sat like a perfect gentleman, little taco squeaky toy already in his mouth.
âSurprise,â Y/N said with a small, sheepish grin, her eyes sparkling.
Phil just⊠stared.
His place looked different. Not overdone, not cluttered. Just⊠lived in. There were colors now. Textures. Warmth. His eyes traveled slowly from the couch to the framed photos, then to the kitchen where that coffee sign leaned smugly above the counter. Then back to her. Still balancing a frame, still smiling nervously, still on that little stool like sheâd been doing this for hours.
He cleared his throat.
âYou uh⊠you break into peopleâs homes often to redecorate âem?â
She shrugged as she stepped down, adjusting the frame one last time and dusting off her hands. âOnly the ones that need serious intervention.â
He blinked. âYou think my place needed intervention?â
âI think,â she said gently, âthat everyone deserves a home. Not just a place to sleep.â
Phil was quiet.
She tilted her head toward him, a little hesitant. âIs it okay? I didnât mean to⊠like, bulldoze your space or anything. I justââ
Before she could finish, he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. It wasnât tentative or overly sappy. It was just⊠firm. Like the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat and this was the only way to get them out.
She let herself sink into it, eyes closing briefly, her arms wrapping around his waist as Larry circled their feet with the taco toy in tow.
âThank you,â he murmured after a beat. His voice was quiet. Sincere. âYou didnât have to do all this.â
âI know,â she said softly, not pulling away. âBut I wanted to.â
He chuckled against her shoulder and then pulled back with a smirk. âYou put this on my couch?â He pointed to the clobberinâ pillow.
âDamn right I did,â she said, poking him in the chest. âWhat, too on the nose?â
âNah.â He looked at it again, then shook his head. âItâs perfect.â
And it really was. The entire place felt different now. Like someone cared. He caught sight of the candle flickering quietly near the TV and sniffed the air.
âIs that⊠leather and vanilla?â
Y/N raised an eyebrow, impressed. âYou really do know your candles.â
âI got standards.â
âClearly.â
He ran a hand through his hair, still a bit groggy but clearly overwhelmed in the best way. He looked at her again, really looked. âDid you even sleep? Or was the plan always to sneak off and go full Martha Stewart on my ass?â
Y/N grinned, unapologetic. âThis felt more important than a nap.â
Phil exhaled, a tiny, amazed laugh leaving his mouth. âYouâre insane.â
âMaybe,â she said, stepping closer. âBut Larry approves. And I think he has good taste.â
Phil looked down at the dog who had already plopped himself on the couch right in front of the new pillow, taco toy tucked under one paw.
He looked back at her.
âYeah,â he said quietly. âHe really does.â
And for the first time in a long time, it felt like home.
The apartment buzzed with a lazy hum as Y/N paced the small bedroom, a pair of jeans discarded on the bed and half her duffel bag spilled open. âBro, I have nothing to wear,â she groaned, pulling her shirt over her head and yelling through the cracked bathroom door. âLike, I wasnât planning for this trip. I packed sweatpants, a hoodie, and like, two shirts Iâve already slept in. Nothing I have fits the vibe.â
From the other side of the wall, Phil chuckled. âYouâre being dramatic. Just wear whatever. Itâs a game, not the freakinâ Met Gala.â
Y/N poked her head out, toothbrush hanging from her mouth. âSays the man who owns six of the exact same fitted shirts like it's a cartoon uniform.â
Phil, seated on the couch lacing up his shoes, smirked. âThatâs because I make them look good. You could wear a trash bag and still look better than half the people there.â
She rolled her eyes and shut the door again. âThat was almost a compliment. Mark the calendar.â
âWouldnât dream of it,â he called back. âNow hurry up! Kickoffâs in an hour and I want snacks before we get to our seats.â
Inside the bathroom, Y/N stood in front of the mirror, settling on what she hoped was cute-but-casual. She tugged on a soft, ivory-colored ribbed topâcropped just enough to be flattering but still cozy. It had thumb holes in the sleeves, which she always liked. She paired it with high-waisted, faded black leggings with a tiny slit at the ankle and stitched detailing along the thigh that gave them a bit of edge. Around her wrist she stacked a few mismatched silver and beaded bracelets, one of them Phil had complimented once before. A heather-gray beanie sat snug on her head, taming her hair, and she threw on a lightweight, olive green windbreaker that cinched slightly at the waist. Socks, some white crew ones with a red stripe, and her black-and-white sneakers finished it off.
When she finally stepped out, pulling the jacket sleeves down over her wrists, Phil looked up from his phoneâand completely stopped mid-scroll.
His mouth opened just slightly, his brow furrowing in that familiar âholy shitâ kind of way. She glanced down at herself. âWhat?â she asked, confused. âIs there something on me?â
âNo,â he said too quickly, then cleared his throat. âNo. You justâyou said you didnât have anything, butâyeah, you lookâŠâ He blinked a few times. âGood. Really good.â
She snorted. âThat the best you got, Phillip?â
He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to play it cool. âJust⊠wasnât expecting a fashion show in my hallway.â
âWell,â she shrugged, grabbing her phone and shoving it in her small crossbody bag. âConsider yourself lucky. I charge extra for backstage passes.â
Phil laughed, reaching for his keys and a hoodie. Larry, still curled up in the fluffy gray throw blanket Y/N had bought and draped over his dog bed, peeked up with sleepy eyes, tail thumping gently as they bustled around. âYou ready, fluffball?â she asked him, crouching briefly to boop his nose. âHold the fort down while we go scream at sweaty dudes.â
As she straightened up, she shoulder-bumped Phil, who nudged her back. She grabbed a granola bar off the counter, he snatched a hat off the hook. They were both grinning, talking over each other about player stats, their seats, the food they wantedâuntil Y/N spun around to jokingly push him again.
But this time, Phil caught her wrist.
The movement was fluid, casual evenâbut once his fingers wrapped around her wrist, neither of them moved. Her breath caught in her chest as he gently pulled her toward him. Not rough, not urgent. Just there.
She ended up inches from him, her chest brushing his as she looked up at him.
His eyes scanned her face, lingering on her lips for just a moment too long. She didnât say anything. Didnât pull away. Her cheeks flushed, but she didnât move.
Then he reached up, slowly, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
âWe should go,â he said softly, his voice lower than usual. âWeâll be late.â
She nodded, blinking once to break the tension. âYeah. Right.â
Phil grabbed his wallet, Y/N threw one last glance toward Larry. âBe good, little man,â she whispered, and the dog gave a small huff, his nose buried in the blanket.
Phil held the door open for her, and as she stepped through, he looked at her again, his expression unreadable.
Whatever this thing was between themâit was real. Unspoken, but thick in the air. And maybe tonight wasnât the night for answers. But it sure as hell was getting harder to ignore the questions.
The wind off the Chicago river had nothing on the chill that hit them as soon as they stepped into the arena. Y/N's eyes went wide the second they walked through the doors, the cold air wrapping around her like an old friend she hadn't seen in years. She practically bounced on the balls of her feet, inhaling dramatically with a huge grin.
âOh my God, do you smell that?â she asked, voice half a gasp, half a laugh.
Phil raised a brow. âWhatâsweat, bad beer, and nacho cheese thatâs not legally allowed to be called cheese?â
Y/N turned to him, beaming. âExactly. Itâs beautiful.â
He chuckled under his breath, watching the way her eyes sparkled with the overhead lights, the excitement in her step as she tugged his sleeve. âCâmon,â she urged, âI wanna see the ice.â
âSeats first,â he started, but she was already dragging him down the concourse like a kid on Christmas morning.
Before they could even start heading to their section, though, she stopped at a concessions stand. âOkay wait, I need nachos and a pretzel and probably a hot chocolateââ
Phil stepped up beside her, pulling his wallet out of his jacket. âRelax, Nacho Queen. I got it.â
Y/N reached into her back pocket instinctively. âYou donât have to do that.â
âI know I donât,â he replied, tone dry as he slid his card across the counter before she could argue again. âBut then Iâd have to watch you juggle seven things and somehow blame me when you drop the cheese on your shoes.â
She narrowed her eyes, a grin playing on her lips. âOne time. One time I dropped cheese on my shoes and you still bring it up.â
âItâs because you blamed me!â he said, voice lifting in protest as he grabbed the tray of food. âLike I manifested gravity or something.â
Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing too loudly as they moved down the aisle. âYou kinda did. You were distracting me.â
âYeah, with my good looks and charm, I know,â he quipped.
They finally reached their section, and Y/N came to a dead stop. Her eyes widened as she stared at the seatsâfront row, right against the glass. She looked back at him, completely dumbfounded. âAre we... these canât be ours.â
Phil held up the tickets with a little shake. âThey are.â
âPhil,â she breathed, still not moving, âthese are, like... legit seats.â
âI pulled out all the stops,â he said casually, as if it were nothing. âYou told me you hadnât been to a game in years, so I figuredâwhy not go big?â
She stared at him, the din of the arena blurring into the background. For a moment, she didnât have anything to say. Just him, with his smug little smirk and smug little eyebrows and smug little bleached-blond head. Her heart gave a traitorous little twist.
âWhat?â he asked, noticing her staring.
She shook her head, her voice a little softer. âNothing. I just canât believe how happy I am right now.â
He looked at her for a beat, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. But he masked it with a crooked smile, handing her the tray of nachos. âWell, donât cry into the cheese.â
She huffed a laugh, bumping her knee against his as they sat down. âIâll cry wherever I want.â
He looked at her sideways. âGod help me.â
As they settled into their seats, Y/N leaned back with a content sigh, letting their knees touch without pulling away. She took a chip, scooped some suspiciously orange cheese from the side, and popped it into her mouth.
Punk glanced down at her, the corner of his mouth twitching. âYou gonna give me any of those or just pretend I didnât pay for them?â
âMm,â she said, fake thinking with her mouth full, âweâll see.â
He grinned, then turned his gaze to the rink as the lights dimmed and the teams started to file out. âBlackhawks by two. Calling it now.â
âYouâre insane,â she scoffed. âTorontoâs hot this season.â
Phil leaned back, smug as ever. âYeah? And Iâm freezing. So letâs see who wins.â
She nudged him again, warmth blooming in her chest despite the chill. And for the first time in a long while, it felt easyâlike nothing had ever changed.
The game was halfway through the first period, and the Blackhawks were on fire. The roar of the crowd was electric, buzzing with a fever only a packed arena and a well-matched rivalry could produce. Y/N was practically vibrating in her seat, body leaning forward like she could will the puck across the ice faster. Every time the Blackhawks went on the offensive, her entire face lit up, and Phil couldnât help but look at her more than the rink.
She screamedâloud, wild, and unfilteredâwhen a fast break turned into a sharp pass and then a snap of the wrist that landed the puck right in the back of the net.
âYES! LETâS GO!â Y/N shot to her feet, arms in the air, her nachos nearly tipping from the cupholder. Her beanie shifted slightly on her head, cheeks flushed with adrenaline, and she spun to Phil with a gleaming grin that damn near stopped his heart.
âYouâre gonna lose your voice by the second quarter,â Phil shouted over the noise, a smug grin tugging at his lips.
Phil was just⊠watching her. Watching the way she glowed with this kind of joy. She was alive in this chaos, in this city, in the cold rink air and scent of fake butter and overpriced beer. This was her. And maybe that had been the problem all along â he hadnât realized how much he missed this version of her until he got her back.
A few players slammed into the glass right in front of them, the impact rattling the barrier. Y/N jumped and laughed, eyes wide.
âGod, I love this game,â she grinned, turning to him with flushed cheeks and glimmering eyes. âIf wrestling didnât work out, Iâd have found my way here.â
Phil chuckled, lips twisting into a smirk. âWoulda made a damn good enforcer.â
She raised a brow, amused. âYou callinâ me violent?â
âIf the skate fits, sweetheart.â
She nudged him playfully with her elbow, the grin still lingering on her face as she sat back in her seat, breathing out the kind of content sigh you only let go when something feels right. Like home.
As the first period ended, the jumbo screen lit up with âLOOK-ALIKE CAMâ followed by clips of fans that vaguely resembled celebrities. A guy with a bushy beard got dubbed âZach Galifianakis.â A little kid with oversized sunglasses got âElton John.â Y/N cackled at every one, pointing out how badly some of the comparisons were. Phil just shook his head beside her, arms crossed, smirking.
Then it switched to âKISS CAM.â
âOh God,â Phil muttered under his breath, already bracing for it.
They laughed at a few couples. An older man dramatically dipped his wife into a cheesy smooch. A young couple shyly leaned in, red-faced but giddy. Then the camera cut to a random pair that clearly didnât know each other. Awkwardness ensued. The crowd roared with laughter.
Phil relaxed, ready for it to move on againâuntil the camera flicked suddenly, too suddenly, to land on them.
Y/N and Phil. Right there. Dead center. Front row.
It took a second to register.
Phil blinked.
Y/N froze.
Their faces appeared huge above the rink, projected for the whole arena to see. There was a beat of silence before the crowd collectively caught on.
Then came the chanting.
âKISS! KISS! KISS!â
Phil leaned closer to her, whispering out of the corner of his mouth, âJust look away. Pretend we didnât see it.â
But she didnât move. She didnât blink.
She was staring at him, eyes locked like heâd said something she couldnât ignore. And there was something in her eyes â something he hadnât seen in a long time. That quiet pull. The undercurrent of something unspoken.
He swallowed.
The camera lingered.
She broke the silence first.
â...Might as well give the people what they want, right?â
Philâs heart stuttered.
She leaned in slow â not teasing, not playful, but with that look like this meant something. Like she meant something. Phil didnât move at first. He couldnât. He just stared, frozen in the moment, until her lips brushed his.
Soft at first.
Testing.
A whisper of a kiss.
But it felt like static shot through his veins.
And suddenly he was kissing her back, leaning in, catching her bottom lip with his and deepening it. One of his hands found her cheek, then threaded into her hair like instinct, like he never forgot how. Her fingers curled into the collar of his jacket, anchoring herself to him.
It was slow. Unrushed. Heavy with tension and history and everything theyâd never said aloud.
It didnât matter that twenty thousand people were watching. The chants had faded into background noise. The flashing lights didnât exist. It was just them â just her mouth on his, her breath warm against his skin, her thumb brushing his jaw.
They stayed like that longer than they shouldâve.
Long enough that the camera definitely moved on.
When they finally broke apart, neither of them spoke.
Y/N stared at him, her chest rising and falling, lips still parted. She didnât look like she regretted it â not completely â but something flickered behind her eyes. That guilt. That line they both knew she had just crossed.
Phil opened his mouth to say something, but he didnât know what.
So he didnât say anything at all.
And neither did she.
They just sat there, knees touching, pretending they werenât both still reeling from a kiss that shouldnât have happened â but felt so inevitable, it might as well have been fate.
The buzz of halftime surrounds them, a low thrum of chatter and movement, but neither Y/N nor Phil says a word as they file out of their row. The crowd around them is loud and colorful, jerseys blurring past, but there's a strange silence suspended between the two of them.
Y/N walks a little ahead, arms folded tightly over her chest. Phil trails behind her, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his brows drawn together like heâs trying to untangle some sort of cosmic riddle. Itâs not that the kiss ruined anything. If anything, itâs the opposite. Thatâs the problem.
They didnât talk.
Not on the walk down the stairs, not when they pushed through the crowd of fans flooding the concourse, not when she mumbled something about needing to use the restroom or get more snacks or whatever else passed as a decent excuse. Phil just continued to follow, hood still up like it could shield him from the aftermath of whatever the hell just happened.
Everything felt different.
Which was saying something, considering how drastically their dynamic had changed over the past few months. But this? This was a shift neither of them could laugh off. Not easily.
Y/N stopped in front of a merch stand, lips tight as she scanned the racks of team jerseys. She pulled two downâone her size, and one that was Colbyâs. It had her favorite team member's number and last name branded on the back. Her fingers were steady as she handed them to the worker behind the booth.
Phil stayed back, watching her with narrowed eyes. Like he was waiting for her to crack. Or maybe just to look at him.
She didnât. Not until her card was already tapped, the beeping of the reader confirming her purchase.
Phil cleared his throat. âSo are we just not gonna talk about it?â
Y/N exhaled slowly, not bothering to look at him. âTalk about what?â
He tilted his head, a humorless huff escaping him. âReally?â
âIt was just the kiss cam, Phil. Itâs tradition. Crowd eats it up.â
âYeah?â His voice sharpened, the edge unmistakable. âThat why we were still kissing after the damn camera moved on?â
Her jaw twitched.
âAnd for the record,â he added, stepping closer, âgrabbing my sweatshirt like you were trying to pull me on top of you doesnât exactly scream âcrowd-pleasing fun.ââ
Y/Nâs eyes finally flicked to him, and she crossed her arms. âSays the guy who grabbed my hair like we were in a goddamn music video.â
âExactly,â he snapped, eyes dark. âWhich is why I think maybe we should stop pretending it didnât mean something.â Her silence was an answer in itself, but Phil wasnât in the mood to let it slide. âEspecially since youâre over here buying matching jerseys,â he added, voice dropping into something bitter, âfor you and the guy youâre supposedly so happy with.â
That stung more than sheâd admit. She grabbed the bag of merch off the counter and stepped toward him. âCome on.â
âWhatâ?â
She didnât give him time to question it. Just grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the crowd, weaving around booths and beer carts and fans until they found a hidden corner between two maintenance doors, dim and quiet.
Y/N dropped the bag to the floor. âFine. You want to talk? Letâs talk.â
Phil crossed his arms. âIâm all ears.â
âIt was a kiss. It was good. Iâm not denying that. But I donâtââ She dragged a hand through her hair. âI donât know, okay? I donât know what it meant.â
He studied her, the tight set of her shoulders, the flicker in her eyes. âYou donât know.â
âIt was nice,â she said quietly. âFamiliar. I liked it. But I donât know what it means. Especially now.â
âWith him,â Phil said flatly.
âWith everything,â she shot back.
He fell silent, jaw working. Then he ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his movements. âI donât know where that leaves us.â
âNeither do I.â
Phil looked at her again, really looked at her, voice lower now. âWould you do it again?â
The question hit harder than she expected. Y/Nâs pulse thundered in her chest. She swallowed. âDo what?â
âKiss me.â
There was no mockery in his voice now. No sarcasm. Just a raw, stripped-down question.
She hesitated, eyes searching his. Then finally, voice barely audible: âYeah. I would.â
Philâs expression didnât change, not at first. But something shifted in his eyes. Heat. Hope. Something dangerous. The silence stretched between them like a wire ready to snap.
Phil sat beside her, not watching the ice so much as seeing it. His eyes followed the blur of jerseys, but his mind was still back in that narrow corner hallway, where her breath was warm and her words were even warmer.
"Yeah. I would."
He exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to reset his focus, but it was impossible. His leg bounced restlessly, his fingers tapping against the armrest once, twice, then curling into a fist. She hadnât said it to be cruel. She hadn't even meant to say it. It just came out. Like truth had been itching to claw its way out of her.
Next to him, Y/N held her drink with both hands. No snide comments. No sarcastic jabs. No eye-rolling. It was quiet between them. Not angry quiet â something else. Something... heavier.
Phil stole a glance at her.
She was watching the game, but her brows were slightly furrowed, the same way they used to when she was overthinking things. She'd kissed him. She said she'd kiss him again. And now she was just sitting there like she hadnât detonated a live grenade in his chest.
He blinked.
And suddenly, he was shot back to the past.
Heâd always loved dragging her to hockey games â it was a Chicago ritual whenever they were there. Loud, fast, borderline violent? Yeah, it checked every one of her boxes.
Phil had picked her up after they both barely slept off the match they worked the night before. They were running on pure stubbornness and caffeine, but she'd insisted.
âYouâre limping,â she said as they made their way to their seats, beers in hand.
âYou speared me off the apron last night,â he grunted. âBe amazed Iâm walking at all.â
She grinned. âYou agreed to it. It was to add to the dramatics, make the audience think weâd lose.â
âBecause you guilt-tripped me like a manipulative gremlin.â
âA cute manipulative gremlin.â
He didnât argue that. He just grumbled and followed her up the stairs, a bruise purpling across the ridge of his cheekbone, his elbow bandaged. She wasnât in much better shape, sporting tape around her ribs and a gash near her collarbone that tugged when she laughed. Which she did. A lot.
They dropped into their seats â close to the glass, because of course she always somehow landed those â and she propped her boots on the bar in front of them like she owned the entire United Center.
She wore an oversized Patrick Kane jersey that drowned her frame. Phil had on a black Hawks hoodie with the sleeves shoved up, showcasing half a sleeve of ink and a couple bruises he hadnât even noticed yet.
âTell me again why you get to steal my favorite playerâs jersey?â he asked, nodding at the number on her back.
She took a sip of her beer without looking at him. âBecause I look better in it.â
He scoffed. âDebatable.â
She turned her head, arching a brow. âYou wanna go?â
Phil grinned. âAlways.â
âYouâd lose.â
âYouâd like that too much.â
She smirked and shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth, then threw one piece at his face. âIâm gonna end you,â he muttered.
âYouâve tried.â
The buzzer sounded, the puck dropped, and the crowd roared like thunder. They didnât shut up the entire game â yelling at the ref, screaming over each other, throwing popcorn back and forth like children. Heâd scowl whenever she booed a fight getting broken up. Sheâd hiss at him for texting during a break in play (âYouâre missing the damn game, Phil!â). Heâd mock her jumping up like a lunatic when the Hawks scored, and sheâd flip him off without looking.
âYou were definitely a goalie in a past life,â he said at one point.
âWhy?â
âBecause youâre aggressive, underappreciated, and probably full of unresolved trauma.â
She snorted so hard her drink came out of her nose. âI hate how much that makes sense.â
âSee? Iâm insightful and charming.â
âDonât push it.â
But between the yelling and the chirping, something else hung in the air â always did with them. That pull. That unsaid thing between them that neither one dared name. Between plays, she leaned closer to yell over the roar, âTell me you donât love this shit!â
Phil didnât look at the ice. He looked at her. At the sparkle in her eyes under the lights. At the red creeping up her cheeks. At the way her whole face came alive when she was wrapped up in the moment. âI love you loving this shit,â he said.
She blinked. Just for a second. Like the air caught in her lungs. âJesus,â she muttered. âYouâre such a sap when youâre full of secondhand adrenaline.â
âYou say that like itâs a bad thing.â
Then, almost lazily, like it was nothing at all, she leaned in â nose brushing his. âYou know if we werenât in publicâŠâ
He arched a brow. âYouâd what?â
âIâd probably be on your lap.â
He froze. She pulled back, grinning wickedly, and screamed at the next faceoff like she hadnât just scrambled his brain with ten words.
Before they could even register, the game flew by in the blink of an eye. The BlackHawks pulled out another victory in a great season, some of the players skating by to say goodbye to their fans who are filing out of their seats. The two of them were walking out with the crowd, shoulder to shoulder, hands jammed in their pockets. Her cheeks were still flushed from yelling, and he could still feel the echo of her thigh bumping into his during the game.
Phil glanced over. âYou ever gonna give me that jersey back?â
âNope.â
âYouâre a thief.â
âIâm a trendsetter,â she shot back, brushing her fingers through her hair. âBesides, it smells like you. Itâs kinda nice.â
He blinked. âYouâre drunk.â
She raised her brow. âIâve had two beers, old man.â
âMaybe Iâm drunk, then.â
âOn what? Seltzer water?â She quips sarcastically, calling on his straight edge lifestyle. One he never forced upon her, but she neded up adopting slightly just by being around him,. In fact, this is eh fris time sheâs drank in almost seven months.
They paused at the street corner, the buzz of the game still in the air around them. He turned to her, something quiet slipping into his expression. That soft kind of look he didnât wear often â like his armor had dropped without him realizing it.
âThanks for coming,â he said, voice a little gentler than before. âI know youâre exhausted.â
She shrugged. âYou love it.â
âYou couldâve stayed at the hotel and flown home.â
âDidnât wanna miss this.â She smiled â a real one.
And maybe it was the way the streetlights hit her. Maybe it was the leftover adrenaline still in his blood. Maybe it was just them. Because without thinking â He kissed her. Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk. It wasnât perfect or slow or movie-scene beautiful. It was fast and impulsive and a little rough â like both of them. Like someone lighting a match and dropping it into a dry field. She kissed him back just as fiercely for a moment â teeth and tension and everything that had been simmering since they met.
But then she pulled back first, eyes wide, breath short. âPhilâŠâ
He blinked. âYeah?â
ââŠYouâre an idiot.â
And then she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and walked ahead of him like nothing had happened. It stays between them â that first kiss. The one that changed everything and nothing all at once. He just stood there for a beat, watching her go â heart racing, blood hot, completely unsure if heâd screwed up everything or not.
But one thing was for sure. Heâd never forget it.
The roar of the crowd pulls Phil back to reality like a snap of cold water to the face. The Hawks have scored. Fans leap to their feet, cheers echoing through the arena like a rising tide. Y/N is one of them, standing just ahead of him in her oversized jersey, hands in the air, a bright grin stretching across her face.
Phil stays seated. He doesnât even hear the goal horn. He doesnât care who scored. All he can do is look at her. The soft buzz on his lips from only a half hour ago still lingers like a secret he canât stop replaying. That kiss â their first kiss in years â had felt so impossibly familiar, so natural, it was as if no time had passed at all. He can still taste the faint flavor of her ChapStick â something citrusy with just a hint of vanilla. It makes his chest ache.
Sheâs laughing, celebrating, and yet he sees her in layers â standing in front of him now, and layered over the memory of her from so many years ago. That first kiss. A night just like this one. Same team, same energy, same smile. He remembers how her hand had curled around his hoodie, tugging him down into the kiss like sheâd been thinking about it for weeks. He hadnât known what to say after â heâd just looked at her, stunned, dumb, already falling. And now?
Heâs falling again.
He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees like heâs just trying to stretch â like heâs not seconds away from losing his mind entirely. She kissed him. Tonight. And not because she was drunk, or lonely, or nostalgic. Not because he made a move or backed her into a corner. She kissed him. She wanted to.
He tries to keep a straight face, but the edges of a smirk betray him. God, he wishes he could see Colbyâs reaction if he found out. The dramatic bastard would probably write a speech about betrayal and perform it under a spotlight. Phil snorts quietly to himself.
But thatâs not his style. Heâs not going to say anything. Not because he couldnât â but because he knows better. Y/N said she was happy with Colby. Sheâd said it like she was trying to convince herself.
Philâs not going to play the villain. Not outright.
Still⊠heâs not above interfering subtly.
He'll be patient. Heâll wait. Because people donât kiss their exes â not like that â if everythingâs fine at home. Somethingâs cracked. Somethingâs shifting. And heâll be there, waiting, chipping away at the cracks with a quiet persistence until she realizes what he already knows.
Sheâs still his.
And heâs still hers.
He doesnât even realize heâs been staring until she turns, blinking at him, a bit flushed from cheering. âWhat?â she asks, half-laughing. âDo I have mustard on my face or something?â
Phil blinks, shakes his head, and forces himself to sit up straighter, smoothing the smirk from his face. âNo. Just⊠enjoying the game,â he says, voice calm, unreadable. Almost too casual.
Her eyes linger on him a moment longer, brow slightly furrowed, but she lets it go. She turns back to the ice, and Phil exhales slowly, slumping back into his seat again. Yeah. Enjoying the game. Sure. But mostly? He's enjoying being this close to her again. And the kiss? Heâll be thinking about that for days.
The final buzzer blared, and the United Center erupted.
âHell of a game,â Punk muttered as he clapped his hands once before slipping his jacket on. Y/N was still riding the high, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. The Hawks had clinched it in overtime â her voice was wrecked from yelling, her cheeks hurt from grinning, and it was easily one of the best nights sheâd had in a long time.
They started toward the exit with the rest of the crowd, Philâs hand casually resting on the small of her back to guide her through the flow of people. âWaitâparkingâs that way,â Y/N pointed over her shoulder, tugging his sleeve.
âYeah,â he said vaguely, still steering her in the opposite direction.
âWhat are weââ
The door ahead cracked open, and a rush of cold air and bright hallway lights spilled throughâfollowed by the unmistakable clatter of skates on concrete. She froze. Jonathan Toews, Seth Jones, Connor Bedard, and several more of the 2024 Chicago Blackhawks walked through in full gear, grinning. It took her a full second to process the fact that they werenât just passing by. They were walking toward her. And they were smiling. âY/S/N?â Bedard said with a grin. âNo way, dude. You came to the game?â
âIâwhat?â she said eloquently, blinking like a deer in headlights. âWaitâhow do youââ
âWeâre huge fans,â Seth Jones cut in, offering a handshake she only barely managed to accept. âOf you. And of courseââ He turned to Phil. âThe Voice of the Voiceless himself.â
âPlease donât call me that in public,â Punk replied dryly, shaking his hand anyway. âDraws too much attention.â
That made a couple of them laugh. Bedard was practically vibrating, like a rookie meeting his idols. âDude, this is insane,â Y/N mumbled under her breath to Punk. âAre you kidding me right now?â
âI figured youâd want to meet the team,â he said, as if it were no big deal. âTook a couple strings. Bribed a guy with backstage passes. You know, the usual.â
âYou bribed someone?â
âAllegedly,â he said with a shrug. âCanât prove it.â
She gave him a look, torn between awe and exasperation. âPhil.â
âYouâre welcome,â he added, biting back a smile.
More players had gathered now, and a few were talking to her about her matches â a recent one in particular seemed to have made the rounds in the locker room. They were genuinely fans. One of them even quoted one of her promos verbatim. âCan we get a photo with you two?â a PR rep asked, already holding a team phone. âWeâd love to put it on our socials.â
âOh my god, yes,â Y/N said without hesitation.
Phil sighed, dramatically. âThis better not end up with me photoshopped in goalie gear.â
âNo promises,â one of the players said.
They lined up for a group shot â Y/N right in the middle, Phil beside her, arms crossed and a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips. Y/N was lit up like the scoreboard in overtime. The photo went up on the Blackhawksâ Instagram a half hour later:
nhlblackhawks
Liked by wwe, y/s/nwwe, cmpunk, and 87,563 others
nhlblackhawks: Still buzzing from tonightâs OT win, but even more hyped to meet these legends â thanks for coming out cmpunk & y/s/nwwe! đđ€â€ïž #Blackhawks #WWE #ChampsMeetChamps
View all 30, 789 comments
wwe: Two icons. One arena. What a night.
beckylynchwwe: Y/S/Nâs living every fanâs dream and Iâm jealous. Also cmpunk looks like heâs being held hostage đ
wwe_trickwilliams: Ayo, not Punk out here doing softy things. This the same guy who roasted me for liking Taylor Swift?
jonathanfatu: ayo, so glad sis got to live out her dream!
dominik_35: Y/S/N looks great. Whoâs the old guy?
roxanne_wwe: Legit just screamed. I love my parents <3
fansgirl55: This confirms it. Heâs still down BAD for her.
blackandbruised: this gotta be a PR stunt. ainât no way sheâs actually giving Punk the time of day again.
Cmpunkfan1978: Seeing Punk smile like that??? This man is IN LOVE and I fear itâs not kayfabe.
burnitdowntotheground: Punk treated you like dirt when he came back and now youâre suddenly watching hockey with him?? You were smiling with Colby last week.
Wrestlebabe90: Imagine watching your team win and then meeting them because your ex set it up. Y/N is THRIVING.
heelqueen45: girl pick a man and STAY there đđđ
cmpunk4ever: theyâve always had something real. yâall just mad heâs not playing nice.
kayfabekween: Seth doesnât deserve this fr. Heâs always in your corner. Punk shows up and you forget all that??
cagedheartclub: Punk had his chance. And he BLEW it. Dude fumbled and now heâs crawling back after seeing her happy with someone else. Lame.
rollinsroyalty: Punk is a grown ass man acting like a high school ex. Youâre better than this, Y/N.
burnitdownfanxx: The way Punkâs playing the long game is so manipulative. He doesnât actually care. You were glowing with Seth. Now itâs just confusion.
superkickwhore: Youâre losing fans over this. You canât keep playing both sides.
The late-night streets are quieter now, the buzz of the arena behind them as they walk side by side in silence. Phil glances down every now and then, trying to read her body language, her expression â anything â but she gives him nothing. Until he risks it.
He slides his hand toward hers, fingers brushing lightly. Itâs tentative, unsure, like he half-expects her to recoil.
But she doesnât.
Her hand curls into his, soft but steady, and for a while, thatâs all the conversation they need.
The elevator ride up was silent too, heavy with something unspoken. By the time they stepped into his apartment, their fingers were still laced â not in the romantic, showy way like teenagers sneaking kisses behind bleachers, but something quieter. Something that didnât need explaining. At least, not yet.
Phil let go first. âGuest roomâs already made up for you,â he said, shutting the door behind them. His voice was low, steady, like it had been sitting on standby for a few hours and finally got the green light.
Y/N nodded, her voice quieter. âThanks.â
âWhenâs your flight?â
âOne p.m.,â she said, sliding her phone out of her back pocket. âNeed to be there by eleven.â
âIâll take you.â
Her thumbs hovered over the phone screen as it lit up with buzz after buzz. She didnât say thank you this time. She just looked at it. Her expression changed â subtle but sharp. Her whole posture shifted, like someone had just pulled a string in the center of her chest and left it hanging loose.
Phil noticed instantly. âWhat?â
She shook her head and gave him a practiced smile. âNothing.â
âBullshit.â
âItâs justââ She sighed and handed him the phone without a word. That alone said everything.
He looked down at the screen. It was her latest Instagram post â the one with the photos from tonight â the one with him.
And the comments⊠they were brutal.
âGuess she downgraded.â
âSheâs just clout-chasing now.â
âThirsty much?â
âHeâs a washed-up joke and sheâs just trying to stay relevant.â
Philâs jaw tightened. He kept scrolling. Kept reading. Each new one was worse than the last. He didnât even realize how hard he was gripping the phone until his knuckles turned white. He scoffed bitterly, the sound almost too soft to catch. âI swear to god,â he muttered, pulling out his own phone from his hoodie pocket, already going to his notes app. âLet me just say something. Just one fucking thing.â
âNo,â Y/N said quickly, reaching out. âDonât make a mountain out of a molehill.â
âMountain?â Phil snapped. âTheyâre coming after you for spending time with me. Like youâre some opportunist â like they know a goddamn thing about you. Thatâs not a molehill, thatâs a fucking landslide.â
She stepped closer, trying to intercept his thumb before he could start typing. âPhilââ
He looked at her, eyes flashing. âYou think Iâm gonna sit here and let people drag your name through the dirt like youâre some... attention-hungry rookie? Like you havenât busted your ass every single goddamn day to get where you are?â
She froze for a moment, her expression softening. âThey donât get to say shit like that,â he continued, quieter now but no less angry. âNot when they werenât there. They werenât backstage all those nights watching you work when you were hurt, or when you had to tape up your ribs just to get through ten minutes. And they sure as hell werenât there when we wereââ He stopped. The sentence hung like a loose thread neither of them was brave enough to pull.
She looked up at him then, something flickering behind her eyes. A warmth. A memory. A soft ache. And for the first time in a long time, she looked at him the way she used to. Not with caution or bitterness or guilt â but with that same spark he used to know. The one heâd seen in flashes before she ever said she loved him.
That same look sheâd reserved for someone else. For Colby.
But now, even if it is just for a moment, itâs his.
Phil swallowed hard.
âThings are complicated⊠you know that,â she said softly, like she wasnât sure she was allowed to admit it.
His breath hitched. âI donât care,â he said, eyes locked on hers. âIâll still fight every last one of those keyboard warriors if they lay one finger on your name. Complicated or not.â
The air between them thickened, slow and heavy like molasses. Y/N stepped closer. His phone was still in his hand, but she reached out and gently wrapped both her hands around his, lowering it between them. Her fingers grazed his â familiar, comforting â and when he didnât pull away, neither did she.
They stood close now. Close enough he could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Close enough her scent wrapped around him again, that same mix of citrus and something warm he never could quite name. His heart pounded, and suddenly the apartment felt too quiet. Too still. He glanced down at her lips, just once. It wasnât intentional, but it was obvious. She looked up at him. And for a moment, just one breathless, hanging moment, it felt like gravity shifted â like they were both teetering at the edge of something they couldnât take back. Her chest rose with a deep inhale. He leaned in slightly â just enough that he could feel her breath brush his lips. Her eyes flicked to his mouth, and Phil thought, This is it. Sheâs gonna kiss me.
But she didnât. At the last second, she tilted her head and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. A ghost of a thing. Gentle. Painful in the way it pulled his hope out by the root.
âGoodnight,â she whispered, her lips close to his skin. âAnd⊠thanks. For everything.â
She stepped back, but not too far. Just enough to leave him standing in the wake of something unspoken and unfulfilled. Phil watched her walk toward the guest room, his hands still buzzing from her touch. And all he could think was how badly he wanted her back â not just tonight, not just to spite the assholes online â but fully, wholly. Like before. Like when it had been good. Like she was his.
@ellswritings Hi! I know I requested this a while back, and you've already said yes to it, but is there a possible eta of when Tricky Situations Part 2 will arrive? I'm sorry to bother you with this, but Part 1 was AMAZINGLY AWESOME, and I can't wait for what you put in for Part 2 with your talented writing.
Hey so I donât really have an eta on that. Iâve been very busy recently and havenât had much time to just sit down and write. Iâm currently working on two multi chapter fics as well as some others. And Iâm having a hard time finding the inspiration for a part two of that fic because it was supposed to be a one parter when I created it đ . So Iâm just not really sure what to add from there, yâknow what I mean? I tried but nothing really clicked for me creatively. If you had an idea of what you want to see you could send it my way. But no, I donât have an eta. Iâm very sorry.
Deciding to move in with Colby had to have been the best decision Y/N has made in a long time. Itâs been a pain trying to gather enough things to stay with him for a prolonged period of time, but ultimately so worth it. It feels nice, calm, like where sheâs meant to be. It also soothes whatever worries she originally had about his physical therapy. Now that sheâs here to help, thereâs nothing to worry about.
Y/N smiles at Colbyâs sleeping form, his curls plastered across his face, forearm draped over his forehead, and lips slightly parted as he snores quietly. His chest rises and falls with every breath he takes. She stares at him with a certain fondness in her chest she couldnât put into words even if she tried.
She leans down, placing a kiss on his forehead before heading out into the kitchen. She only had a few days with him before having to fly out for SmackDown, so she figured the least she could do was make him breakfast before physical therapy.
The smell of sizzling eggs and turkey bacon fills the air as Y/N moves around the kitchen with a confidence that makes it look like sheâs lived here for years instead of just a few weeks. She hums along to the faint music coming from her phone speaker â a mellow acoustic version of some early 2000s pop song she probably used to burn onto mix CDs. She's in one of Colbyâs oversized shirts, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, legs bare, hair tied up in a messy bun. The sun peeks through the kitchen windows, bathing her in golden light as she flips an egg and stirs a small pot of oatmeal.
She barely needs to think as she moves â pulling a protein shake out of the fridge, dicing up avocado, checking on the toast â like her hands already know where everything is. Her hips sway slightly to the beat as she mumbles lyrics under her breath.
What she doesnât know is that Colby is standing quietly in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame. His leg is strapped up in its brace, and heâs still a little groggy, but none of that matters. He just watches her â the way she exists in his space so naturally. Like this isnât new. Like this isnât temporary. Like sheâs always been here.
His chest tightens, overwhelmed by how damn easy it is. How natural. How terrifyingly right this all feels.
He grins.
âIâm not saying you should stop,â he rasps, voice still heavy with sleep, âbut if this is your plan to butter me up for something... itâs working.â
Y/N jumps slightly, letting out a little squeak before spinning around, spatula in hand like she might defend herself with it. When she sees him, her face softens instantly into a playful pout. âColby!â she scolds, moving toward him to take some of his weight. âI was trying to make you breakfast in bed, you jerk.â
âYeah?â He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as she guides him gently to the barstool at the counter. âWell, Iâm glad I caught you in the act. Think I like it better this way.â
Y/N narrows her eyes teasingly. âWhy? Because you got to see me nearly have a heart attack with a spatula?â
He snorts. âNo,â he says, settling in with a wince but smiling anyway. âBecause I got to see this. You. Here. Moving around like itâs your kitchen too.â
Thereâs a beat of silence, and then she looks down, the tiniest flicker of emotion crossing her face before she smirks it away. âWell, I have been rearranging your spice cabinet. So Iâd argue it is my kitchen now.â
Colby pretends to look horrified. âYou touched the spice rack?â
âI organized the spice rack,â she corrects with a flourish, sliding a plate in front of him. âIn alphabetical order. Because I love you, and because I couldnât find the cumin to save my life.â
He stares down at the plate â scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, avocado toast, a side of oatmeal with some protein powder probably mixed in, and a tall glass of water beside his morning vitamins. Itâs basic. Thoughtful. Perfect.
âYouâre ruining me, you know that?â he mutters, grabbing a fork.
âWhy, because Iâm domestic and high-protein?â she teases, sipping from her coffee mug.
âBecause Iâm gonna get used to this,â he says, voice low but honest, eyes locked on her. âAnd then what am I supposed to do when you go back to living back at your place and leaving me here with the mess I call a spice cabinet?â
She pauses, something flickering in her gaze â maybe guilt, maybe longing, maybe that love she hasnât quite said out loud yet. But then she smirks again, playful as ever. âGuess youâll just have to marry me so I legally have to come back.â
Colby nearly chokes on his egg. âDonât play like that,â he wheezes.
She laughs, setting her mug down and walking behind him to rest her chin on his shoulder, arms gently wrapping around his chest. âIâm not playing,â she murmurs, but before he can react to the weight of that, she adds, âAlso⊠youâre almost out of oat milk. I made a grocery list.â He exhales through a smile and reaches up to touch her arm, grounding himself in the moment. She takes a bite of her oatmeal before looking back at him, âI figured we could make a quick stop at the store after PT. If youâre up for it, of course,â she clarifies. âIf your knee is bugging you, I can always go later.â
Colby just shakes his head, that same dumb grin on his face. âMy knee will be fine,â he leans forward and kisses her softly. âWe can go to the store⊠if you can walk that is.â
Y/N lifts a brow, âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
His eyes suddenly go from their regular brightness to a dark mischievousness. âIf the last time we did physical therapy at an empty gym was any indication⊠you might not be able to walk through the store.â
Her face turns bright red as she recalls how great it felt having his head buried between her thighs. She slaps his chest, âDonât say that shit,â she scolds playfully.
Colby catches her wrist, âOh come onâŠâ he grins, pulling her closer to him. He kisses her once more, their lips meshing perfectly together. âI was just kidding,â he mumbles against her lips. ââŠUnless you wanna run it back.â
Y/N just shakes her head, amused, before pecking him again. âNice try, Casanova. But weâve got too much to do and only two days to do it.â
Colby groans childishly, but the grin on his face is still there. âFineâŠâ he grumbles. âI suppose I can wait.â
âIâm glad youâve finally learned patience,â she teases, grabbing their empty plates and moving to the sink to clean them.
She doesnât hear Colby coming up behind her until his hands are gripping her hips, pulling her back into him. She gasps softly as his sculpted chest meets her back. He leans forward, peppering kisses along the side of her neck all the way up to the sweet spot behind her ear. She shudders at the contact.
âTrust me, sweetheart, itâs not patience,â he whispers. âI just know the reward will be much sweeter after the wait.â
And with that he lightly pats her ass before cracking up at the way she completely froze. He peeks at her just as he goes to round the corner back to his bedroom. Sheâs glaring at him, body tense and clearly wanting him. He winks at her, âWell what are you waiting for? We gotta get goinâ don't we? Busy, busy day.â
Y/N inhales sharply, rolling her eyes with endearment as she hears him still chuckling at his own behavior. She canât help but crack a smile at the sound of his laugh. Even being a gremlin he still manages to be one of the most attractive men she knows. He mightâve just teased her and left, but she wouldnât have had it any other way.
The gym was quieter than usual, the early hour lending it a sort of sleepy humâmachines still cold, overhead lights buzzing softly, the occasional clank of weights from across the room. Y/N stood at the stretching mat beside Colby, one brow arched as he sluggishly unzipped his hoodie and muttered something under his breath.
âWhat was that?â she asked, tightening her ponytail as she glanced over.
âI said I hate this already,â Colby grumbled, adjusting the brace on his knee before slowly lowering himself to the mat with a huff. âEverything about this sucks. Especially being up this early.â
Y/N snorted, crouching down beside him. âYou werenât complaining earlier when I made you breakfast.â
âYeah, well, I was clearly delusional.â He cracked a grin as he reached for the resistance band she handed him. âYou were supposed to stop me from making stupid decisions.â
âI thought dating me was your first stupid decision?â
Colby gave her a flat look as he started one of his stretching routines. âYouâre lucky I canât chase you right now.â
âYouâre lucky I donât record your old-man grunts every time you do a hamstring stretch.â
âDon't test me, sweetheart,â he said, struggling through the first round of movements with a dramatic wince. âIâll leak footage of you snoring during that flight to Houston.â
âThat was one time.â
âIt was loud.â
âI had a deviated septum!â
The two of them dissolved into laughter, the kind that echoed off the walls and warmed up the cold space. Y/N knelt behind him to help guide his leg through the extension. She was gentle but firm, fingers steady against his shin.
He winced slightly. âToo much?â
âNope. Youâre just a big baby,â she teased, but her thumb did brush across his knee with soft reassurance. âYouâre doing great, though.â
He glanced at her, his dark eyes still tired but shining with something familiar. Something grounding. âIâd rather be deadlifting with you.â
She paused for a second, then smiled. âI know. But weâll get back there. You just gotta stop being dramatic for like⊠twenty-five minutes.â
Colby let out a long-suffering sigh. âImpossible. Iâm a performer. Drama is in my blood.â
Y/N stood, stretching her arms overhead. âFine. Be dramatic. But be dramatic while doing your quad sets.â
He groaned but obeyed, switching to the next stretch. âYouâre lucky you havenât been wrong enough for me to question you.â
âYouâre lucky I havenât been wrong,â she fired back, dropping to her knees beside him again to adjust his position.
They worked through his exercises like thatâbickering, laughing, her making dumb noises to distract him through the pain, and him throwing a towel at her after every set.
Once they finished the required PT portion, Colby grabbed a water bottle and took a breath on the bench. He watched as Y/N crossed to the other side of the gym, rolling out her shoulders as she prepped for a more intense workout. She wasnât in the best shape either, but she was already healing up fine. The bruising around her ribs was still faintly visible through her tank top, but she moved like it barely phased her.
He watched her do a clean overhead press and sighed audibly. She glanced over. âWhat?â
âYou know what.â
She smiled softly, setting the bar down with a clang. âI can bench less if it makes you feel better.â
âDonât patronize me.â
âThen donât pout,â she quipped, grabbing a resistance band and heading toward him. âWant me to coach you through something light?â
He shook his head. âNah. Iâll just sulk and dramatically resent your strength from over here.â
She walked over to him, leaned down, and kissed the top of his head. âYouâre still the strongest person I know. Even with the busted knee.â
He looked up at her, expression unguarded for a moment. âThat actually helped more than any stretch.â
She grinned. âTold you I was a healer.â
âYouâre also a tease.â
âDuality, baby.â
They sat in silence for a beat, her still standing, him resting his elbow on his good knee. He looked around the gym and then back up at her. âWanna get outta here?â
She blinked. âYou done?â
He nodded. âI think Iâve reached my limit of you making me touch my toes and calling me âold man.ââ
âI only said it once.â
âOnce too many.â
She reached out a hand and he took it, rising carefully to his feet. His knee ached and his brace clicked slightly with the motion, but her hand was warm and steady.
âAlright,â she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. âLetâs get you outta here before you pull something trying to wrestle me in the parking lot.â
âYouâd like that too much.â
âYouâd lose.â
He leaned into her as they walked out together, a slow, comfortable pace. He didnât care that the brace was heavy or that his pride still took a hit every time he couldnât lift what he used to. With her by his side, laughing and chirping him the whole way, he felt like he had something better than peak physical form.
He had thisâher, them, whatever they were becoming.
The TV glowed in front of them, casting soft, flickering light across Colbyâs living room. A series of matches played on mute, closed captions dancing across the bottom of the screen. Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, her back slightly hunched as she scribbled notes into a spiral notebook resting on her thigh. Her brows were furrowed, lips moving silently as she mouthed observations to herself. Occasionally, she'd whisper something like, âShe sets that up off the reversal,â or âShe favors her right when sheâs setting up for the Rose Plant.â
Her hair had fallen forward over her face from how often sheâd pushed it back, and she hadnât noticed. She was too dialed inâeyes glued to the screen as she watched one of Pamâs old PLE matches with razor-sharp focus.
Colby sat beside her, reclined comfortably with his leg stretched out and resting on a pillow. His eyes werenât on the TV, though. They hadnât been for a while. He was watching herâsmiling faintly as she shifted positions without even realizing it, one hand absently reaching for her drink, the other underlining something quickly in her notebook. He could see the wheels turning in her head, could practically hear the internal monologue. She was relentless when it came to prep. He liked that about her.
More than he should, probably.
She didnât even flinch when he shifted beside her, didnât look up when he cleared his throat. He smirked, then grabbed the remote and pressed pause.
The silence broke like a snapped rubber band. âWhat the hell?â Y/N blurted, blinking at the frozen image on the screen. âWhyâd you pause it?â
âYouâve been watching tapes for three hours,â Colby said, amused. âThree. Hours. I timed it.â
Her eyes went wide. âSeriously?â
âDead serious.â He gestured to the mostly empty snack bowl in front of them. âYou even ate trail mix without realizing. Thatâs some kind of trance.â
She leaned back against the cushions, exhaling a disbelieving laugh. âDamn. I didnât even notice. Iâm losing my mind.â
âYouâre obsessed.â
âIâm prepared.â
âSemantics.â
They both laughed, the kind of laughter that came easily after long days and familiar company. Colby shifted closer, their shoulders now brushing. The energy between them shifted with the momentâless focused, less tense, more relaxed now that the match was paused and the work could wait.
Y/N stretched her arms over her head, a soft groan escaping her as she felt her spine crack in response. âMy back just cracked in like five different languages.â
Colby grinned. âI think it said something in French.â
She rolled her eyes but didnât move away when he leaned a bit more into her space. âSo⊠Thursday morning, right?â he asked after a moment.
She nodded, letting her arms fall back into her lap. âYeah. Flight leaves at eight fifteen. I should land around ten unless something gets delayed. Rental carâs already booked. Iâm staying at this boutique hotel near Legacy. Two-minute drive, if that.â
âWhatâs it called?â
âSomething stupid. The Reverie?â she said, making a face. âSounds like a perfume ad.â
Colby chuckled. âFancy.â
âI booked it because it has blackout curtains and decent room service. I couldnât care less if it smells like lavender and lost dreams.â
A beat of silence passed before he said it.
âYou sure you donât want me to come with you?â
His voice was casual, almost breezy, but she could hear the weight behind it. She looked over at him, her expression softening. He wasnât trying to invade or cling. He just wanted to be there. âYou should stay,â she said gently. âYouâve got your doctorâs appointment that morning anyway, and the last thing your knee needs is airport security lines and bumpy Uber rides.â
âI can push through.â
âColby.â Her voice was firm now. âRest. Please. I need you good for Elimination Chamber. And weâve got that ridiculous WrestleMania kickoff thing next week. Do you really want to hobble into a media scrum while Corey Graves makes jokes about it?â
âI mean, if Iâm gonna be mocked, it might as well be on camera.â
She laughed again, shaking her head. âJust stay. Watch dumb movies. Take the day to do nothing.â
âIâll consider it if you promise to call me every five minutes,â he joked with his signature smirk.
Y/N turned toward him, face serious again. âIâm not messing around, Colby. I want you to rest and focus on PT. This appointment is the first step in getting you back to one hundred percent. So just relax, go to the appointment, and call me. I want to know what they say. Whether they clear you, whether you need more rehab timeâ I donât wanna find out through some backstage rep.â
He nodded without hesitation. âYouâll be the first person I call. I swear.â
She believed him. Colby mightâve had his moments, but when he promised her something, he always followed through. A quiet pause lingered between them, the air suddenly a little heavier. Colby leaned his head back against the cushion, staring up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words.
âThis whole⊠thing,â he said after a long moment. âSometimes I forget weâre not actually dating.â
That made her still. She didnât respond right away. Her heart beat a little faster, her fingers curling into her lap. The worst part was that she knew what he meant. The lines between them had blurred months agoâmaybe even longer than that. Somewhere between the goodnight calls and the shared hotel rooms and the way he looked at her like she was gravity itself⊠it had all become harder to define.
âYeah,â she said quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. âMe too.â
He turned his head just enough to look at her. Her eyes were on the paused TV screen, but he could tell she wasnât watching it anymore. âDo you⊠ever think about where this is going?â he asked.
âIâm thinking about surviving WrestleMania season first,â she replied, voice light. A defense mechanism. But then, after a beat, she added more seriously, âI donât know. I think Iâm still trying to figure it out.â
He nodded. She didnât owe him anything more than that. Still, the vulnerability in her honesty made his chest tighten. Outside, a breeze rattled the branches of the tree just beyond the window. Inside, the air between them hung heavy, tinged with the weight of things unsaid.
Colby finally broke the silence with a grin. âOkay, but for real, are we gonna finish that match or are you gonna start talking to yourself again like a weirdo?â
Y/N let out a mock gasp. âExcuse you, thatâs called tactical observation. You wouldnât understand, old man.â
He rolled his eyes and grabbed the remote again, unpausing the video. âJust for that, Iâm gonna switch this to that Raw fight you guys had a couple years ago where she wrecks you with a knee to the face.â
âOh, so youâre siding with her now?â
âIâm siding with entertainment value.â
She leaned into him with a playful glare, pressing her shoulder against his. He didnât move away. And neither of them noticed how easily they stayed like that, closer than friends, but still something shy of more. For now.
âLook what the wind blew in,â Trinity beamed, arms already open as Y/N approached.
Y/N let out a joyful laugh, dropping her bag on the pavement to throw herself into her friendâs hug. âGod, I missed you.â
Trinity hugged her tight, rocking her side to side. âGirl, Iâve been counting down the days.â
The second she pulled back, Bianca was already there, wrapping her in another warm embrace, her long braid bouncing behind her. âYou look good, even after getting yeeted into the barricade on Monday.â
Y/N snorted. âYouâre not wrong.â
The three women stood there on the sidewalk for a moment longer, just taking each other inâcomfortable, familiar, safe.
âIâm not gonna lie,â Trinity said, stirring oat milk into her coffee. âThis place makes me feel like I never left. Everybodyâs been so damn welcoming, itâs wild.â
âOf course weâre welcoming you back,â Bianca said. âYouâre family. And if anyone had a problem with it, you know Y/N wouldâve already suplexed them into the announce desk.â
Y/N raised her cup in a mock toast. âThatâs true. No regrets.â
Y/Nâs smile faded a little, but she nodded. âIâm alright. Just banged up. Took a couple ice baths, popped an Advil. You know the drill.â
âIt looked like that annihilator hit you the worst though,â Trinity muttered, frowning. âYou and Demi looked all messed up afterwards.â
âIt was actually my bad,â Y/N admitted. âWhen Nia dropped me on top of Rhea, I was supposed to be a bit further over so when she dropped it hit more of my lower stomach. But I ended up landing wrong. Honestly, I think it helped Demi not take as hard of a hit though. But itâs my own fault for missing my spot. Rookie mistake.â
Bianca leaned in, brow raised. âYou? A rookie? Come on now.â
Y/N shrugged, cracking half a grin. âOkay, a little dramatic. But still. Iâve been around long enough to know better.â
Trinityâs expression softened. âYou good for tonight though?â
âMore than good,â Y/N said, a spark flickering in her eyes. âItâs the night Pam announces sheâs coming for me at Mania.â
Biancaâs eyes lit up. âFinally! You two are gonna tear the house down. Thatâs a match Iâve been waiting for since this whole feud started.â
âYou and everyone else.â Y/N leaned back in her chair, smiling. âWeâve never faced off at a PLE. Weâve fought a few times on Raw and SmackDown over the years. But now itâs real. And itâs gonna be so good.â
âYâall better main event night one,â Trinity said, pointing her coffee cup at her. âAnything less is criminal.â
âIâm not saying itâll be the main, but itâs gonna steal the damn show. That I can promise.â
Bianca reached for her phone, opening up the camera app. âOkay, but before we head out, we need to make it official.â
Trinity gasped like she already knew what was coming. âYou mean a TikTok reunion?â
Y/N smirked, already brushing crumbs off her hoodie. âLetâs do it.â
Bianca hit record, the three of them immediately falling into rhythm like theyâd choreographed it the night before. They laughed, they posed, they added a few steps to an old dance trend theyâd once nailed backstage during WrestleMania week two years ago. Trinity held the camera as they hit their final poseâBianca flexing, Y/N popping her hip with a smirk, and Trinity in the middle, arms wide like a proud big sister.
The caption wrote itself: âREUNITED. You already know weâre about to take over. đ đŸâš #SmackDown #WrestleManiaSeason #GlowESTY/S/Nâ
They laughed the whole walk back to the car. As they piled into the SUV, Y/N glanced out the window at the city rolling by. Her body still ached from Mondayâs ambush. Her brain was still juggling strategy notes for her match with Pam. And part of her heart was still tangled up in the complicated mess that was Phil Brooks and Colby Lopez.
But here, right now, with her girls in the car and the night ahead of them full of electricity and meaningâY/N felt grounded. Supported. Seen.
Not just as a wrestler. Not just as someone caught in the crossfire of old and new love. But as herself. And that meant more than anything.
The SUV pulled up slowly behind the arena, tires crunching over the gravel lot. The second the production crew spotted her arrival, cameras were already rollingâphones and red dots blinking as she stepped out onto the pavement like sheâd been dropped straight from the heavens.
No music. No words. Just presence.
Y/N climbed out of the car, one hand adjusting her oversized sunglasses, the other holding the strap of her title slung casually over her shoulder. She didnât need pyro or a runwayâshe was the damn show.
And today? Today, she looked every bit the problem.
She wore black leather pantsâlow-rise, hugging her hips like a second skin, the waistband cut in a sharp V at the front to show just a sliver of toned stomach. Her boots were combat style, heavy-soled and buckled halfway up her calves. Her top was cropped and sleevelessâmatte black with thin straps that crossed over her chest and wrapped behind her neck, her collarbones on full display. A silver chain dangled around her neck, glinting as she moved. The Undisputed Womenâs Championship sat high and proud on her shoulder, gold catching every light the sun offered.
No makeup. Just lip balm. Just attitude.
Someone nearby whistled low. âDamn.â
The camera crew followed as she walked, sunglasses never slipping, title never shifting. She didnât acknowledge the camerasâdidnât need to. She walked like she belonged. Like the whole place belonged to her.
And in a way⊠it did.
Once inside, she passed by staff and crew who greeted her with nods and shoulder taps. She returned some with a half smile, but her feet never slowed. There was one place she always went first when she arrived at the arena. And today was no exception.
She took a sharp turn and walked down a hallway marked âPRIVATE â BLOODLINE ONLY.â
The second she knocked, the door cracked open and a voice called out from within.
âAbout time you showed up,â Joe said, already smirking.
Y/N pushed open the door and stepped inside, the atmosphere instantly shifting from serious champion energy to family-level chaos.
âAw, look who finally took off the sunglasses,â Joe said with a grin, leaning back on the black leather couch like a king on his throne. âYou tryna keep the mystique, or hide the bags under your eyes?â
âOh, I donât hide my bags,â Y/N replied, tossing her sunglasses onto the table and plopping down next to him. âTheyâre designer.â
Roman barked a laugh, tossing an arm over her shoulders as she got comfortable. âSee, this is why youâre the only one in this room who can talk to me like that and not end up in a chokehold.â
âMust be the honorary sister privilege.â
âMust be.â Joe chuckled, giving her a hug and immediately stealing the sunglasses off her head.
âAlright,â he said, spinning them around his fingers like a villain in a bad soap opera. âYou, me, and about twenty minutes before anyone else comes back here. Thatâs enough time to ruin someoneâs day.â
Y/N raised a brow. âWhose?â
Jon was the first name that popped into both their heads.
âPerfect,â she smirked.
âWhat do we got?â Joe asked, already sitting back down with a dangerous twinkle in his eye. âGive me something stupid.â
Y/N grabbed a protein bar off Soloâs stash and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Joe, like a little gremlin ready to scheme. âOkay, hear me outâclassic saran wrap across the bathroom doorway.â
âOld school,â Joe nodded. âI like it.â
âBut hereâs the thing,â she continued, leaning in. âWe put his phone on the other side, like it fell out of his pocket. So when he goes to grab itâŠâ
ââŠWHAM,â Joe finished, cracking up. âStraight into the invisible wall of doom.â
Y/N grinned. âIâll distract him.â
âIâll get the wrap,â he said, standing up like a man on a mission.
It was executed flawlessly. Jon was in the hallway FaceTiming his Josh, laughing about some meme he sent him, completely unaware of the plot unfolding just behind him. While Y/N lured him toward the locker room with a fake conversation about âlast-minute creative changesâ and âsomeone saw your gear got moved,â Joe worked like a craftsmanâstretching a near-invisible sheet of plastic across the bathroom entrance, low enough to catch him right in the face.
Jon didnât stand a chance.
He walked directly into it, let out a choked sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a bark, and stumbled backward while Y/N doubled over laughing behind him.
âYOUââ he started, ripping the wrap off his face as Joe casually walked out of the bathroom, whistling like he had no idea what had just happened.
âSomething wrong, Uce?â Joe asked innocently.
âYou both SUCK,â Jon snapped, but even he was grinning now, trying not to laugh.
Joe held out his hand to Y/N for a high five, and they smacked palms with loud satisfaction. âOne down,â she said. âOne to go.â
They both turned toward Solo.
He sat quietly in the corner with his headphones in, sipping water. When he looked up and noticed their matching evil grins, he narrowed his eyes. âNo,â he said flatly. âIâm not doing this with you two.â
âLetâs go subtle for him,â Joe said. âHeâs not a screamer. We need psychological warfare.â
âSticky note?â Y/N offered.
Joe pointed at her. âYes. But it has to be perfect.â
The two of them crouched behind a wall divider, scribbling ideas on scraps of paper like middle schoolers at summer camp. After a heated debate between âHug me, Iâm shyâ and âAsk me about my unresolved issues,â they landed on a winner.
âI growl when Iâm touched.â
Y/N crept up behind him with the precision of an assassin, eyes locked on his hoodie as he leaned forward to tie his boot. One smooth motion and the sticky note was placed dead center between his shoulder blades.
Joe had to shove his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.
They waited.
And waited.
Ten minutes passed. Solo walked through catering. He stood in line for a coffee. He spoke to two referees.
No one said a thing. Until Paul Heyman entered the locker room, took one look at Soloâs back, and turned to Joe and Y/N with the slowest, most disappointed dad stare in existence. âI assume this is your doing,â he said dryly.
âI take offense to that,â Joe replied, over-exaggeratedly placing his hand on his chest. âYou think I would prank one of my own blood?â
Paul didnât say anything. Just held up the sticky note like it was a crime scene photo and walked out.
Solo walked in a few seconds later.
âWho did it?â he asked, already knowing.
Y/N pointed to Joe. âHim.â
Joe pointed to Y/N. âHer.â
Solo shook his head, muttering under his breath as he peeled off his hoodie. âYou two need help.â
âGroup therapy,â Joe suggested, plopping back down on the couch. âBloodline edition. Weâll prank the therapist too.â
Y/N collapsed beside him, still breathless from laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. âGod, I needed that.â
Joe looked at her, his laughter fading into something softer.
âYeah,â he said. âMe too.â
For all the weight of titles, cameras, and crowd expectations, these momentsâthe stupid, chaotic, sibling-coded onesâwere the ones that made it all bearable.
For a few minutes, they werenât The Undisputed Champions. They were just Joe and Y/N. Plotting the next disaster.
The couch in the Bloodline locker room had never felt more like home. Joe and Y/N were sprawled out on opposite ends, legs tangled in the middle, shoes long discarded, the energy in the room warm and lazy after the high of their prank spree. The Bluetooth speaker hummed quietly in the background with some mellow Afrobeats playlist Solo had accidentally left playing earlier, but neither of them had bothered to turn it off.
Joe took a long sip from his water bottle, draping his arm over the back of the couch. âSo,â he said, cutting through the silence. âHowâs Colby holding up?â
Y/N let her head fall back against the armrest. Her sunglasses were pushed into her hair now, eyes soft. âHeâs doing better. The swellingâs gone down a lot. Weâve been doing physical therapy every dayâwell, the days Iâm home, anyway. He had a follow-up appointment today.â
Joe tilted his head in mock concern. âLook at you, all nurse energy.â
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed against her thigh. The screen lit up with Colbyâs name and a contact photo of him in his gear, smug smirk and all.
Speak of the devil.
She grinned, answering the call and immediately putting it on speaker. âYouâre on speaker, babe. Joeâs been pacing the room like a worried housewife.â
Joe scoffed. âIâm just trying to keep the teamâs insurance premiums low, alright?â
Colbyâs voice crackled through the speaker, dry and amused. âWow. Touched by your concern, Joe.â Y/N bit back a laugh, eyes flicking to Joe, who was already rolling his eyes. âBut Iâve got good news,â Colby continued. âStill not clearedââ
Joe interrupted with a sarcastic âShocking.â
ââbut the doc said the healing is ahead of schedule. PTâs been helping a lot. He was impressed.â
Y/N let out a breath she didnât realize sheâd been holding, a genuine smile pulling at her lips. âThatâs amazing, Colb. Iâm really proud of you.â
âYou just like bossing me around with those resistance bands,â he teased.
âOh, absolutely. Nothing gets me going like yelling at you to stretch your quads.â
Joe groaned dramatically, flopping over the arm of the couch. âI did not survive years in the ring just to listen to this.â
Y/N grinned. âWeâll keep it PG, Grandpa.â
âBarely,â Colby said, the smirk in his voice unmistakable.
There was a pauseâshort but loadedâand Joe squinted like he could feel the tension buzzing through the call. Y/N looked down at the phone, lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something. Colbyâs silence mirrored her own. It was the kind of beat that felt suspended in timeâtoo long for casual, not quite long enough for someone to jump in and break it.
Eventually, Colby spoke first. âAlright. Iâll let you get back to it. See you later?â
âYeah,â she murmured. âSee you later.â
Joe waited until the call ended before tossing a pillow at her with pinpoint precision. âYouâre so soft now. Itâs disgusting.â
âOh, shut up.â
âNo, really. I used to think youâd die in the ring before you let anyone in. Now look at you. Playing nurse. Making heart eyes over FaceTime. I feel like Iâm watching a Lifetime movie.â
Y/N snorted and sat up, tossing the pillow right back at his face. âItâs not settling down.â
Joe raised a brow.
She shrugged. âI just found someone to live in the chaos with. Thatâs different.â
Joe grinned, nodding slowly. âOkay. Thatâs fair.â
They fell into a comfortable silence again, the kind only family sharedâreal or chosen. The room felt less like a locker room and more like a safehouse, padded by years of respect, trust, and stupid prank wars. Joe leaned back and closed his eyes, and Y/N looked down at her phone one last time, thumb brushing across the screen where Colbyâs name still glowed in the recent calls list. Maybe she didnât say it aloud. But she didnât have to. Not yet.
After getting ready, Y/N walked over to Nick Aldisâ office with Bianca. They have a segment with Shotzi and Michin to welcome Trinity to Friday Night SmackDown. The two girls converse quietly, waving to the production crew that are setting up for the shot.
âAll right ladies,â Danny, one of the producers, calls out to the four of them. âJust stand right where you are, look natural, and just congratulate her when she comes out okay? Keep things simple and remember to react accordingly to whatever happens.â
Y/N furrows her brows, leaning to Bianca, âSince when do they tell us to react accordingly?â She whispers.
Bianca narrows her eyes, âUsually when they added somethinâ we donât know about,â she whispers back.
Y/N sighs, knowing sheâs right. However, there isnât much time to discuss as Dannyâs already counting down from five. And before they know it, the red light is on and Naomi is walking out of the office.
She comes out with a bright smile on her face and a signed contract in hand. She raises it in the air, âCheck me out, ladies!â She squeals in excitement.
All four women waiting jump up and down for joy, most of their reaction being totally genuine as they are thrilled to have Naomi back in the locker room. Shotzi and Michin start chanting welcome back as Bianca and Y/S/N go to hug their best friend, saying their own form of congratulations.
âUm excuse me!â
There it is.
Y/N has to hold back the laugh sheâs about to let out when Jessica, better known as Tiffany Stratton also walks out of the office. She knows Jess from some of the times she went down to mentor at NXT, and seeing the difference between her character and who she is as a person is crazy.
All five women stop, their smiles falling at being interrupted. âYeah, Iâm sorry, uhâ I am the center of the universe, and Iâve also signed a SmackDown contract,â she looks at them expectantly. âUm, whereâs my applause?â
They all share the same look, snickering at Tiffanyâs behavior. Shotzi claps for the girl with her finger tips, causing Michin to laugh even louder. Y/N doesnât bother hiding her chuckle as she lightly slaps Biancaâs arm, cracking up completely. Tiffany scoffs as the womenâs undisputed champion. She waves her hand, trying to stop her laughter, âIâm sorry, I justâ Iâm sorry.â
Bianca snorts quietly at Y/Nâs reaction. Thatâs when Naomi starts getting worked up. At this point, their laughter is completely genuine. And itâs not because of Tiffany, itâs because they managed to crack themselves up more just by laughing.
Tiffany suddenly steps up into Y/S/Nâs face, a scowl being the only thing present as she looks the champ up and down. âYou know what? Iâm not afraid to step up to the baddest woman in WWE.â Y/S/N sticks her chin up, hand resting comfortably on her belt as she doesnât back down. âAnd youâre gonna remember me.â
With a swift shift on her heels, Tiffany spins, slapping Michin in the face. The women gasp. âOh hell no!â Y/S/N screams before handing her title to Naomi and going to charge after Tiffany who takes off in the other direction.
She almost grasps the girl's extension when Nick Aldis stops her, putting a hand on her arm to pull her back. âWhoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Ladies, ladies, ladies, ladies.â He guides them backwards a few steps, trying to diffuse the situation as best as he can.
However, Michin is having none of it. âUh uh, uh uh, uh uh! Youâre gonna make me stand on business tonight. Right?â She demands. Nick sighs but nonetheless nods his head. âYeah. Bet!â
As Michin goes to take her hoops out and hand them to Bianca, Y/S/N grabs her title from Noami before grabbing Nick. He turns around as the camera zooms in on their interaction. âI don't tolerate disrespect,â she warns. âNot in my locker room. Not on my show. Get her under control, Nick. Or Iâll do it for you.â
Nick inhales deeply, standing up straight, âI assure you, Y/S/N, that wonât be necessary. But if I were you, Iâd keep my focus on figuring out which locker room I actually wanted to be in,â he warns just as edgily as he did. âYou canât play both sides forever.â
Y/N watches from Gorilla, water bottle clutched in her hand as she takes a swig from it. Damage CTRL is currently making their way to the ring. This is where Bayley announces who sheâs going to challenge at WrestleMania. They had been teasing to the audience that she might change her mind and choose Rhea due to manipulation from Iyo, but Y/N already knew the plan. Besides, her and Pam wanted this fight. If anything, they deserved it.
As soon as Bayley gets into the ring, chants resound around the arena, people giving her flowers for her Rumble win. They wanted Y/N in the back so they could catch her reaction to the full segment. The only thing she knew was Bayley was challenging her. So she sat there, in character, and waited for whatever storm they were gonna throw at her.
The Kabuki Warriors and Iyo stand behind her as she grabs a mic from one of the stagehands. âNow, when I think about WrestleMania, yâknow Iâve really done it all,â she says, glazing herself. âAlmost,â she raises her pointer finger. âIâve defended the Raw womenâs title, the SmackDown womenâs title. Iâve gone out there with the womenâs tag titles. Iâve even hosted the damn thing!â The crowd responds with a mix of cheers and boos. âBut this year, this year is different, and this year is special.â
She pauses for a brief moment, looking back at Kairi, Askua, and Iyo. âThis year is different because I didnât get here on my own, and I could admit that. I had a lot of ups and downs. More downs, if you know what Iâm talking about. But I wasnât in it alone because I had my girls,â she gestures to the three women behind her. âI had something that I never had before going into WrestleMania. They were there for me. They supported me. They were there for the car rides. They were there when I came back crying in the locker room because this wasnât working out the way that I thought it did. But Damage CTRL was there for me, because Damage CTRL is more than just the best womenâs faction of all time. Damage CTRL is family.â
Y/N tilts her head, lips pursed as she watches the camera catch her expression. Internally, sheâs wondering what exactly is about to happen as the three women behind Bayley start snickering at the mention of being a family. But it suddenly stops when the Rumble winner turns around to look at them.
âSo when I think about WrestleMania, I think about moments, I think about magic! I think about being the best. And for me to be the absolute best, I have to beat one of the best. And that brings me to Rhea Ripley.â
Y/N smirks, almost letting a chuckle out as she readjusts her title on her shoulder. She stares at the screen mockingly, acting as if she knew Bayley would chicken out. âOr I can go a different route,â she continues. âI can fight a different fight. Because sometimes itâs not all about having a championship or holding a title, sometimes itâs more personal. Sometimes it comes down to whatâs in your heart. And proving people wrong, about proving doubters wrong that didnât think you had what it took to go all the way. And sometimes the people that you thought were your biggest support system, the people that you thought were your friendsâŠâ she trails off, glaring at her Damage CTRL girls. âSometimes you have to prove them wrong.â
Thatâs when Y/N leans forward, her interest piquing as Bayley steps closer to them. âYou guys done laughing?â She confronts before saying something in Japanese that clearly catches everyone off guard. The entire audience gasps loudly, not expecting her to pull that out. âYeah, thatâs Japanese,â she rubs in. âI picked that up from all the times you guys talked about me behind my back.â
Y/N covers her mouth with her hand. She saw the cracks in the faction storyline wise a while ago, she just wasnât expecting them to break up now. âYou guys think I donât see all around me? Do you know how long Iâve been in the WWE? Iâve done it all. Iâve seen it all. You guys talk about me constantly. Why?â She begs, looking directly at Iyo for answers. âAll I wanted was for Damage CTRL to be the best. All I wanted was to take this to the top. To WrestleMania, and I wanted to do that together.â
She shakes her head, heartbroken. âBut you guys see nothing in me do you? Huh? Iyo what happened?â Thatâs when the Bayley chants resurface. âWhen you, me, and Dakota started this we were like this,â she crosses her fingers. âEver since they came around, you turned your back on me.â She points to the Kabuki Warriors. âWhat happened?!?â
Bayleyâs scream is cut off by Kairi and Askua attacking her from behind. Y/N forces herself to look smug and not show her shock as they stomp Bayleyâs midsection before kicking her to the corner of the ring. However, Bayley doesnât stay down for long, reaching beneath the ring to grab something. Suddenly she stands up when she feels Askua try to grab her again, and she reveals the steel pipe she just grabbed.
She wastes no time in defending herself, hitting both Kairi and Askua with no mercy, the two women rolling out of the ring. She winds up her makeshift bat, going for Iyo, but she ends up turning back around with a steel chair she managed to grab during all the chaos. The two stare at each other, whatever friendship they had shattering to pieces before Iyo rolls out of the ring, dropping the chair.
Bayley grabs the mic once more, âAnd about that announcement⊠Iyo Iâm done letting you get in my head about who to choose.â She turns to look directly into the camera, âSo Y/S/N⊠Iâll see you at WrestleMania."
The cameras switch back to Y/S/N, the womenâs champion nodding her head with a determined fire in her eyes. The crowd goes crazy as Bayley finally chose who everyone wanted her to. She hugs the title belt closer to herself, showing everyone she wasnât going down without a fight. And without her little friends to help her out, this fight was finally going to be fair.
Her night was almost over. Y/N always hated the feeling of the show ending, but she longed to sleep even if it was just in a hotel bed. She planned on putting the black out curtains to use before having to fly back to Davenport.
She smiles over at Jimmy as the rest of the Bloodline wait for Romanâs music to cue. She has her title slung over her shoulder as always, her low rise leather pants still showing just the perfect sliver of skin. She can feel the anticipation from the crowd, and thatâs when his song plays.
They wait for a moment before strutting out in all their Bloodline glory. Y/N has that easy yet intimidating smirk on her face as they stop at the top of the ramp. She flanks Roman on his right, Paul on his left, Jimmy and Solo behind them as always.
âLadies and gentlemen, please welcome special counsel, the Wise Man Paul Heyman. Jimmy Uso, Solo Sikoa, and the Undisputed WWE men and womenâs Champions, Y/S/N and Roman Reigns!â
Y/S/N and Roman raise their titles simultaneously. She still hasnât gotten used to the pop they receive when walking out. After all these years, it still hasnât registered to her that people really do come to shows just to see her. Itâs humbling yet an ego boost all at the same time.
The five of them walk down the ramp and towards the ring. The camera closes in on Roman and Y/S/Nâs faces, the two of them looking at each other before smirking at the camera. Paul holds Romanâs title up the entire way down. They stop at the bottom of the walkway, taking in the atmosphere of the Legacy Arena before finally climbing into the ring.
Once inside, Roman holds his hand out, silently asking for his title. Paul hands it over with enthusiasm, Roman taking a step forward to hold his title in the air. His pyro goes off simultaneously, only adding to the aura of the Tribal Chief. He hands it back over to Paul, glancing over the large crowd. Almost like a king admiring his subjects.
The crowd is a mix of boos and cheers as always. Y/S/N has to hide her smile when she sees a small boy in the front row, sporting a hell of a lot of her merch. His mother is always wearing a design she had debuted a few years ago. Seeing fans like this always made it hard not to interact.
Paul walks over, handing both Roman and her a microphone. Roman doesnât spare him a glance, Y/S/N muttering a small thank you to the Wise Man who smiles at her in return. Thatâs when the crowd starts chanting for Cody Rhodes.
Roman scoffs under his breath, âOh well get to him in a minute,â he assures snarkily. âBut first⊠Birmingham Alabama!â The crowd cheers for their cityâs name. âAcknowledge me!â
Ones go up all over the stadium. Y/S/N raises her finger as always, nodding her head in respect for her Chief. âNow the Wise Man will tell you, I donât like to recap. I would prefer to move forward, but there were some things said on Monday⊠that we just canât let slide.â
Y/S/N shifts on her feet, trying to look uncomfortable but not enough to be noticed. She knew what he was calling out. âMy little brother, Seth Rollins,â he pauses when no one reacts. âExactly, no pop.â The crowd boos at his diss and Y/S/N rolls her eyes, hoping the camera catches it. âHe said heâs got the title. The title.â Roman laughs mockingly at the thought. âSo I had to think about, Iâm like: didnât I beat everybody competing for that title? Doesnât that make them all my number twos?â More cheers and boos. âShouldnât we call that the loser bracket title? And then he had the audacity to say that he was the guy.â He laughs even louder. âYou canât be runninâ around here for two years in my right hand womanâs clothes and say youâre the guy!â
Everyone laughs at that and Y/S/N pushes her tongue to the side of her mouth. Anyone could see she was holding back. The crowd was eating up the drama about to blossom. âAnd then he wants to say heâs the workhorse. But three months in, he broke his back trying to carry that show. And lemme ask you this⊠do workhorses walk like this?â He hunches over, imitating how Seth walked after his injury. âHell no! And then he wants to attack my schedule? Oh, come on, this is simple. I work less than you. Yes, thatâs true. Actually, I work like, ten times less than you. And I make ten times more than you.â He narrows his eyes at the camera, âSo Iâll ask yâall⊠You want Seth Rollins money⊠or Tribal Chief money?â
The crowd pops at Romanâs final line â loud boos from the loyal Rollins fans, laughter from others. Roman soaks it all in like he always does, smirking smugly as he slowly lowers the mic from his lips.
Y/S/N shifts her weight, adjusting the title on her shoulder. Sheâs been holding back, letting him cook, but now⊠heâs crossed a line.
She raises her mic with a dry smile. âOkay,â she starts, tone cool but firm. âLetâs relax before you pull a muscle patting yourself on the back.â
A collective âooooh!â rolls through the arena, the crowd sensing the shift in energy. Romanâs head tilts slightly, his brows arching in interest.
Jimmy and Solo exchange looks behind them. Even Paul turns a fraction, lips parting like did she justâ?
Y/S/N keeps going.
âI get it. Youâre the Tribal Chief. You beat everybody. You built the island, planted the flag, yada yadaâbelieve me, no one hereâs trying to take that away from you.â She gestures between them casually. âBut maybe ease up on the stand-up routine when youâre talking about Seth.â
The mention of his name now gets a pop from the crowd.
Roman raises an eyebrow, the smirk twitching into something sharper. âOh⊠So weâre doing this? We defending boyfriends on company time now?â
She shrugs. âNah, Iâm just sayingâif youâre gonna go off like that, at least keep it true. You said he broke his back three months in? He carried that show on a broken back. And he still showed up every week and put on matches no one could follow.â
That gets a big cheer.
Roman steps closer, just enough to loom. âYou done?â he asks lowly, mic still raised.
She mirrors the step, head tilting. âYou gonna listen?â
Another oooooh from the crowd.
âWowâŠâ he mutters. âWow. I give you everything. I made you. Youâre the top of the womenâs division because of me. And when your little boyfriendâs out there runninâ his mouth every Monday night, disrespecting my nameâour name.â He lets it hang. âYou donât say a damn thing.â
The arena reacts immediatelyâgasps, boos, a few stunned cheers. Y/S/Nâs face hardens. Roman presses. âWhere was all that loyalty then, huh? Too busy making heart eyes backstage to step up and check your man?â
Y/S/N doesnât flinchâbut her jaw ticks. The camera catches it. The shift. The hurt. For half a second, itâs like she might back off. But then she steps right into his space, the titles between them, and her voice drops just enough to be dangerous.
âYou wanna question my loyalty just because I didnât throw hands over a trivial promo?â she asks quietly, mic still up, but her voice sharp like a blade. âYou think I got this farâstood next to you this longâbecause I donât know when to speak up?â
Roman doesnât answer. The crowd is dead quiet. She glares at him. âI didnât say anything Monday⊠because I knew you would. I didnât need to fight that battle for you. I trusted you to handle it.â
The crowd starts to cheer.
Sheâs right in his face now, eyes locked. âYou wanna be acknowledged? Fine. I acknowledge you. But donât forgetâI earned this title on my own. With or without you.â
Romanâs jaw tics. His nostrils flare slightly, and for a âsplit second it looks like he might say something elseâbut instead, he steps back. He stares at her for a long beat before speaking again.
ââŠAâight,â he says simply, mic low. âThen act like it.â
And just like that, he turns back to the hard cam, motioning for Paul to bring the segment back around. Jimmy shakes his head like heâs just watched a car crash. Solo keeps his arms crossed, unreadable. Paul is sweating.
âBut see, now, Cody⊠heâs an idiot,â he presses on. âHeâs got values and all that crap. He donât really care about the money, I donât think. So Iâm going to break it down to him very simple. This is simple math here, CodyâŠ. Iâm not gonâ beg you like the other guy.â Y/N sends him a glare, wanting him to watch his mouth.
âYou can either be the very best number two in this industry⊠Or, you can take a crack at number one again, itâs your choice.â
Thatâs when the familiar drums to Codyâs entrance theme go off. The lights go down, the red, white, and blue covering the whole arena. The Bloodline watches as Cody makes his entrance, the boys looking a lot more irritated than Y/S/N as the Nightmare interacts with the audience.
He approaches the ring rather quickly, climbing up the ropes to âwhoaâ with the audience. He climbs into the ring, jaw tense as he stares at Roman with narrowed eyes. He asks Paul for the microphone in his hand, the Wise Man handing it over without much prompting.
He raises the mic to say something, but he canât as the crowd is still going wild for him. He looks out to the people, his pearly whites practically blinding the people in the front row. âSoâŠâ he begins, the growl in his voice reverberating around the room. âBirmingham, Alabama!â More loud screams from his loyal fans. âRoman ReignsâŠâ he points at the champion. âWhat do we wanna talk about?â
Thereâs a short pause before he continues, âYâknow, I imagined this conversation a little bit more private,â he admits. âIf youâll indulge me, perhaps we can have the ring to ourselves.â He looks at the rest of the Bloodline, indicating he wants them gone.
Roman crosses his arms, but he ends up waving his family off. They look hesitant for a moment, but realize heâs being serious. Y/S/N goes to follow after Jimmy, but is stopped when Roman grabs her arm. He looks at her, eyes ablaze, âYou wanna prove you still loyal? You stay right here,â he says, the words barely being picked up by the mic. He looks at Cody with a smug smile, âHope you donât mind. But she stays.â
Cody just grins back, but itâs not the warm one Y/N is used to. Itâs cold, biting. âOh, I donât mind if she stays. She seems to be the only one of you with decency these days anyway. And as long as Iâm not LA Knight, I donât think I have to worry about her attacking me.â
The crowd screams a loud âYEAHâ at the mention of Knight. Y/S/N huffs, but stays in place. Not without sending a glare to Roman though. The rest of the Bloodline leaves, climbing to stand on the outside of the ring.
âSo I took a great deal of counsel this week,â Cody admits. âI talked to friends, family, legends. You know, you cheated me,â he says angrily. âI had you more than anybody youâve ever been in the ring with. I had you, and I think you know it.â
Roman simply laughs at the thought. But Cody doesnât relent, âSeth Rollins, heâs made a lot of amazing points this week, but one of them that I disagree with, he called that,â he points to Romanâs title, âthe Hollywood title.â He swallows thickly, âYou can call it whatever you want, thatâs still the title that Bruno Sanmartino held. Itâs still the title that was put into my fatherâs hands in Madison Square Garden and then swiftly taken away. Again, call it whatever you want. I still want that title.â He declares.
Roman rolls his eyes, lips pursed together as he listens to Cody drone on. But the crowd loves him whether Roman does or not. And thatâs true power. âLet me ask you, what is finishing the story? Because Iâve heard you say that all of this, all of it, is yours. This ring, the canvas, the ropes, that camera, the announce desk, all these people, you guys belong to Roman Reigns, apparently.â
The people boo at that. âSo⊠is finishing the story, taking that championship from you? Or is finishing the story taking everything from you?â Cody licks his bottom lip, pausing to let it sink in. âLet me make it abundantly clear, I want that title. Matter of fact, Iâm moving my own goal post. I want that title, I want everything, and I am coming for it. I am coming for you, Roman Reigns.â Roman laughs, finding Codyâs monologue over dramatic. âBut not at WrestleMania.â
The crowd goes bananas, and not in the positive way. Y/N furrows her eyebrows, not Y/S/N, Y/N. She hadnât seen this in the scripts she read over before tonight. Roman seemed completely composed. Did he know?
âI mentioned taking counsel⊠Roman, one of the individuals I talked to. He knows you very well.â Cody reveals, furthering Y/Nâs confusion.
CAN YOU SMELL?!
Y/N has to fight off the urge to scream with excitement, her inner fangirl about to make an appearance. Roman looks more annoyed by his cousinâs appearance than anything. Y/N looks back at Jon, the cameras not on her as she mouths âwhat the fuck?!â The biggest smile on her face.
Thatâs when The Rock walks out from backstage in all his electrifying glory. He walks towards the ring, and she truthfully doesnât know what her face looks like, but itâs definitely not as nonchalant as it should be. She watches in awe as he climbs up the ropes of the ring, eyes never leaving the crowd as he soaks in the moment.
The second they went off the air, Y/N didnât even try to play it cool.
Her boots hadnât even fully hit the floor before she was sprinting up the ramp and through the curtain like she had somewhere to be â because, oh, she did.
The Rock.
Dwayne freaking Johnson.
She turned a corner like her life depended on it, nearly taking out two stagehands and a monitor in the process, until she spotted him near gorilla, still surrounded by a small huddle of producers, headset-wearing suits, and whatever poor assistant was holding his phone.
âOh my God,â she whispered under her breath, hands fanning her face. âOkay. Okay. You are an adult. Youâve met him before. Donât be weird.â
Too late.
âDWAAAAAYNE!â
He turned at the sound of her voice â and laughed immediately. âUh oh!â he grinned, arms already open. âHere she comes.â
Y/N launched herself into a hug without hesitation, squeezing him with every ounce of energy she still had after a full show. âYou didnât tell me you were coming back tonight! What the hell!â
âI wanted it to be a surprise,â he chuckled, rocking them side to side. âAnd damn, girl. Youâve been killing it. Iâve been watching.â
Y/N pulled back just enough to beam up at him. âYou have not.â
âI have too,â he shot back, tapping her on the forehead. âIâve got eyes everywhere. You and Roman have been doing incredible work. And I appreciate how hard youâve gone for him. For all of them. My whole family.â
That part made her heart flutter in a different way. She bit her lip, grinning. âThat means a lot. Like⊠seriously.â
âMeans a lot to me too.â He gave her another squeeze. âWeâve gotta get a picture. Come on.â
They posed â one silly, one serious, one where she threw up the ones like she was still a Bloodline girl at heart, and one where he held her in a headlock and she pretended to die dramatically.
It felt light. Easy. Special.
But when they wrapped, and Dwayne was pulled away to do one of a dozen media things waiting for him, Y/N lingered near the hallway, adrenaline still high â until her eyes landed on a familiar silhouette a little ways down.
Cody.
He was standing alone, near one of the gear crates by the catering hallway, head low, hands on his hips like he was trying to work something out with himself. She walked toward him without thinking. âHey.â
He glanced up, smile tugging faintly at the corners of his mouth. âHey.â
âYou werenât gonna tell me he was showing up?â
âDidnât know for sure until today.â
âAnd why didnât you tell me you werenât making your announcement to challenge Roman tonight?,â she added, jabbing a finger into his arm.
Cody looked at her like heâd aged five years in five minutes. âBecause Iâm not.â
That stopped her. âWhat?â
He shrugged, leaning back against the crate. âThey want Rock vs. Roman. Thatâs what itâs been leaning toward. What theyâve been discussing, with him coming back and being on TKO. Iâm just the⊠scenic detour.â
Her brows furrowed. âBut⊠you won the Rumble.â
âYup.â
âYouâre supposed to be next.â
âI know.â
âSo⊠what, thatâs just it?â
Cody looked up at her, and for a second, she could see how tired he was. Not just physically. Not just from a long night. But the kind of tired that came from hitting a ceiling you didnât even know was there until your knuckles were already bloody.
âIâm just doing what creative tells me,â he said, quiet. âItâs what we all do. It is what it is.â
Y/N blinked at him, heart sinking. âThatâs bullshââ
âY/N,â he cut in gently, holding up a hand.
âNo,â she shot back, stepping closer. âItâs not right. Youâve worked for this. You earned this. You should still get to have a say.â
âI had my say,â he said, with a smile too small to be real. âThis is just⊠the business.â
She folded her arms, jaw tight. âThen the business is broken.â
He laughed at that, low and dry. âDonât say that too loud, youâll get us both fired.â
Y/N rolled her eyes and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his torso. âScrew them. You should be headlining WrestleMania.â
Cody hugged her back just as tightly, chin resting on her head. âI appreciate you, Y/N. I really do. But itâs out of my hands now.â
They stayed like that for a beat â two siblings, stuck in a world that didnât always make sense, but holding on to each other anyway.
When they pulled apart, neither of them said it â but they both almost did.
Y/N nodded instead, hand squeezing his arm. âIâm still rooting for you,â she said.
Y/N sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, the room dim except for the golden spill of light from the bathroom and the muted city glow through the curtains. Her suitcase was half-packedâgear thrown messily on top of folded jeans, a few airport snacks shoved into side pockets. Her post-show adrenaline still buzzed faintly in her limbs, but the solitude had begun to settle into her bones like a familiar ache.
Her phone buzzed beside her, screen lighting up.
Punker.
She smiled despite herself. She had changed his contact name a little while ago, tired of staring at his government name. With a lazy swipe, she answered. âIf youâre calling to insult my segment again, youâre gonna have to get in line.â
A low, gravel-laced chuckle echoed through the receiver. âInsult? Nah. I called to thank you for single-handedly resetting the thermostat on live television. Pretty sure half the arena needed water after you walked out in those pants.â
Y/N blinked, startled, then let out a short laugh. âWow. Bold opener. You always this smooth or am I just the lucky one tonight?â
âYou wore leather pants and a tank top, sweetheart,â Phil replied smoothly. âDonât act surprised when the entire male population of North America temporarily forgets how to speak English.â
She flushed, thankful he couldnât see it. âMaybe I was trying to distract the crowd from the fact that I forgot half of what I was supposed to say during that last segment and improvised.â
âDidnât notice,â he said, voice dipping just slightly. âI was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.â
Y/N paused, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity underneath the flirtation. Then she covered it with a smirk. âThatâs funny. You usually donât look breathless when looking at me ever. More like..: vaguely annoyed and maybe like your back hurts.â
âThatâs just me trying not to stare and covering it up. Iâm fragile, not blind.â
She snorted. âAnd here I thought you were calling to critique the way I held the mic.â
He laughed again, warmer this time. âYouâre lucky I like you. Otherwise, Iâd say your outfit looked like it was picked out by a horny raccoon with a leather budget.â
âOh my God,â she muttered, grinning. âYouâre the worst.â
âMaybe. But Iâm the worst who knows you well enough to know you still have that hoodie from our Vegas show twelve years ago shoved in your suitcase somewhere.â
She looked at the chair where said hoodie had, in fact, just been tossed into her bag. âStalker.â
âHistorian,â he corrected. âWith great taste in hoodies.â
They both laughed, the kind of easy, nostalgic rhythm that always felt a little dangerous when it came to the two of them. The pause that followed was familiar tooâweighty but warm.
She softened, tone gentler. âHowâs the tricep?â
Phil exhaled through his nose. âHurts like hell. Iâm trying to pretend it doesnât, but the Frankenstein shuffle gives me away.â
âNot to me,â she said quietly. âYouâve always walked like that.â
âI did not.â
âYou totally did.â
He chuckled, then said, âSurgeryâs cominâ up. Iâm over it already. Canât wait to start rehab.â
âIâd offer to help push your wheelchair but I charge per foot.â
âYou push me, Iâll just yank you into my lap and let you deal with the consequences.â
Her breath hitched just slightly, smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth. âSo the same dynamic as always.â
âExactly,â he said, voice low.
There was a stretch of silence that hummed with unspoken things. Memories. Regrets. Maybe a few still-simmering feelings neither had fully dealt with.
âSpeaking of consequences,â Phil added, trying for casual, âYou remember hiw you mentioned missing hockey?â
âYeahâŠâ she said slowly, suspicious at the sudden pivot in tone. âWhy do you sound like youâre about to lure me into a white van with promises of sports?â
âBecause I am luring you into a white van with promises of sports. Hypothetically. If there were an extra ticket to the Blackhawks game tomorrow nightâfront row, perfect view, maybe even the good nachosâwould you⊠wanna go?â
Y/N blinked. Her heart thumped.
Chicago. Phil. The Blackhawks.
There was a time when that trio had been everything.
Her mouth opened, then closed. âPhilââ
âNo pressure,â he cut in, voice softening. âJust figured⊠I dunno. I miss watching you light up over penalty kills and overpriced foam fingers.â
She laughed faintly. âYou used to steal my foam fingers.â
âI did. Still have one. Might bring it tomorrow.â
That drew a pause Colby flashed in her mind for just a secondâbut so did everything she and Phil had lived through. All the ups, all the downs. All the versions of themselves theyâd been and maybe still were.
And she really missed hockey.
ââŠYeah,â she said, more certain this time. âYeah, Iâd love to go.â
He smiled into the phone. She could hear it in the pause that followed.
âGood,â he said. âBook your flight. Iâll see you at the airport.â
âYou donât have to pick me up. I can Uber.â
âShut up. Iâm picking you up. Then weâre getting breakfast. Like old times.â
She smiled, unable to stop it now. âIâd really like that.â
Another pause. Longer. Heavier.
âAlright,â she said softly, heart thudding a little faster than it shouldâve. âBye, loser.â
âBye, traitor,â he replied, and the warmth in his voice lingered long after the call ended.
Y/N sat there, phone resting on her chest, fingers brushing against the fabric of that old hoodie. The moment felt heavier than it should haveâlike sheâd just stepped back toward something she wasnât sure she was ready for, but maybe always wanted. And the thing was? It felt good.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment before reaching for her phone again. She had to call Colby. The line rang twice before he picked up, his voice groggy but amused. âDidnât expect a call from you. Thought youâd be knocked out by now.â
âI should be,â she said, flopping back onto the bed. âBut I missed your voice.â
Colby made a low sound, one she could picture with his slight smile. âI missed you too. When you coming home?â
She paused. Her fingers tapped against the comforter. âActually⊠Iâm gonna be a day later.â
There was a beat. âWhy?â
Y/N exhaled. âPhil invited me to Chicago for the Blackhawks game tomorrow.â
Silence.
âColby?â she asked gently.
âYeah, Iâm here.â
His voice was different now. More guarded. She sighed, sitting up. âIâll cancel if you want me to. Seriously. You matter more than a stupid hockey game.â
He didnât speak right away. She could hear the flick of his controller being set down. âHow long ago did he ask?â
Y/N looked at the clock. âLike five minutes before I called you. I said yes, then I called you right after.â
There was a pause. Then, finally, he let out a small laugh under his breath. âYou called right after?â
âImmediately,â she said firmly. âIf you donât want me to go, I wonât. Thatâs not even a question.â
Colbyâs smile warmed through the line. She could hear him melting a little. âGet me a jersey.â
Her grin widened. âIâll get us matching jerseys.â
He groaned. âPlease donât make them hideous.â
âNo promises,â she teased. âLove you.â
âLove you more. Just⊠come home right after, yeah?â
i'm really tired of reading posts of people upset about Cody "paying tribute" to a racist.
he has a job. like most of us. he was relaying a script. and when your boss, your job, asks/tells you to do something, you do it. do you not? he's the face of the company, and he's been in the business for longer than a lot of people even realize, so he knew what he was getting into when he accepted the role.
would you all just so easily quit a job you loved that provided for you and your family over one fucking night? one fucking douchebag of a guy?
Cody is the hero here. he did something we all know he didn't wanna do, didn't believe in, but he did it because he had to. none of us even understand the decision-making or thought process or regret or whatever he must be feeling. how do we even know it's not stipulated in his contract that he be the guy for these things?
âYou totally cheated,â Stiles scoffs, offended. He narrows his eyes at Fallon who simply shakes her head with a chuckle. âI said no wolf powers.â He crosses his arms over his chest, an accusatory expression on his face.
âI didnât use any wolf powers,â Fallon laughs at his dramaticness.
âYes, you did,â Stiles insists. âI was ahead of you the whole time until at the last second you passed me,â he says, pointing up to the rock wall in the middle of the gymnasium. âI want a rematch. I wanna go again.â
âThen go with someone else,â she playfully shoves his shoulder. âI already climbed up that thing once. Thatâs enough effort for me for today,â she exhales lazily.
âOh, I get it,â Stiles nods mockingly. âYouâre just scared Iâm gonna kick your little werewolf ass,â he sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth. âThat Iâm gonna fly past you like the nimble man I am.â
Fallon lifts an unamused brow, âYes, StiâŠâ she exhales, feeding into his delusion. âIâm absolutely terrified that you will beat me at an activity that I donât care about in the slightest.â
Stiles frowns at her apathy. He rolls his eyes and growls lowly at the fact sheâs refusing to race against him again. âWhatever,â he bumps into her. âIâm gonna go tell Coach I wanna go again.â
âYou do that,â she sends him a thumbs up as he scrambles over to the man with a clipboard in his hands.
The two currently on the wall are Allison and Scott. Fallon watches amused as the two of them start getting cocky with each other. She finds it adorable how they make a competition out of it. Or at least she tries to find it adorable until Scottâs eyes travel to Allisonâs behind before he launches himself past her. She cringes but a small smirk makes its way onto her face as Allison kicks Scott when Coach isnât looking, sending the boy flying to the floor with a loud thud.
The room erupts with laughter. Coach moves to sit down next to Scott, his cackle louder than everyone elseâs. âMcCall, I donât know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joyâŠâ he chuckles again, pointing to his heart, âRight here.â He glances back up at his students and points towards Stiles and a girl Fallon knows as Erica. They had the same history class last year. âAll right, next two! Stilinski! Erica! Letâs go! The wall.â
Fallon suddenly gets rather dizzy as she watches Erica struggle to climb up the wall. Panic sizzles under Fallonâs skin, but itâs not her own. One thing she does remember about the girl is that sheâs epileptic. She only found out when she was told one of the jerk wads that posted a video last year of her having a seizure was on the lacrosse team. The two girls werenât friends, but she did beat the living crap out of the guy who posted it during practice. She got herself benched for a week because of it.
The dark haired girl tries to pay attention to the way Stiles climbs up the wall, but Ericaâs shaking form is the only thing that has her attention. She takes a small step forward, her supernatural hearing picking up the small whimpers leaving the girl's mouth.
Stiles pushes down from the wall, hitting the floor. He goes over to Fallon to brag about how fast he was, but stops himself when he notices sheâs not paying attention to him. âOh pleaseââ Erica cries out.
âErica?â Coach calls out for her. âDizzy? Is it Vertigo?â He questions, trying to figure out why sheâs frozen in place.
Lydia rolls her eyes snidely, âVertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear. She's just freaking out.â
âEricaâŠâ their teacher calls out again.
âIâm fine,â she yells back shakily. The blonde girl is anything but fine.
Fallon glances at their teacher, âCoach, maybe itâs not safe for her to be doing this,â she informs him quietly. âSheâs epileptic.â
The manâs jaw drops before he throws his hands up exasperatedly, âWhy doesnât anybody tell me this stuff?!â
Fallon furrows her eyebrows, âDo you not attend your mandated IEP meetings, orâŠ?â
The man ignores her, glancing back at the struggling teenager. âErica, y-you're fine. Just-just kick off from the wall. Th-there's a mat to catch you. Come on.â He encourages her, not wanting to fill out the paperwork that will come with her having a seizure in class.
The girlâs chest heaves up and down rapidly until she finally is able to convince herself to push off the wall. She clutches onto the rope holding her as she slowly comes down from the height she was just at. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Coach helps her remove the equipment. âSee? You're fine. You're on the ground. You're all right. Let's go. Shake it off. You're fine.â
A chorus of laughter and whispers follows Erica as she begins to walk away and Fallon absolutely despises it. âAre you kidding me?â She glares at her peers. âYou think this is funny?â She scoffs at their disrespect. âWell, you know what I think is funny? Me breaking the next person who decides to laughâs knee caps and using them as a lacrosse ball at practice.â Her nonchalant delivery causes the room to go silent. She realizes that perhaps that was a bit overkill, but someone had to stand up for Erica.
The brunette chases after the poor girl, following her all the way to the locker room. âErica!â She calls out, running in behind her. âAre you okay?â She asks genuinely.
âI donât need your pity,â the blonde snaps, trying to protect herself from the fake apologies and sympathy.
âHey, Iâm not here to pity you,â Fallon says softly, putting her hands up in surrender. âI really just wanted to come and check in on you. Seriously,â she nods, taking a step closer to the girl. âI know you donât need my pity. But I figured I could at least make sure youâre feeling all right.â
Erica senses the genuineness in Fallonâs voice. She slowly lets her guard fall down, âIâm fine,â she nods her head with a small smile. âThanks for what you said in there.â
âOf course,â Fallon grins gently. âAnd I meant what I said too. If anyone tries to give you a hard time, just say the word and Iâll make good on my threat. Ninety percent of the kids here are jerks anyway. I wouldnât mind spending a couple years in jail for assault.â She giggles at her own joke making Erica chuckle as well.
The laughter dies down and the two are left in silence. Erica sighs, sitting down to put her head in her hands. âI just feel so weak all the time,â she admits quietly. âAnd the fact I couldnât even make it a few feet up a rock wall just makes me looks even more pathetic.â
âYouâre not pathetic,â Fallon says strictly, taking a seat on the bench next to her. âYou are anything but pathetic. I mean, who cares that you canât climb up a rock wall? You are so great at so many other things. You're smart, witty, youâre super pretty, youâre kind, you have a gorgeous smile, youâre a lot more than some stupid activity Coach made us do.â
Erica looks at the girl gratefully, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. âIt kind of sucks this is the first time weâve ever spoken to each other.â
Fallon sighs, âYeah. Iâm sure if we had talked sooner, I wouldnât have been to the police station nearly as many times as I have in the past few years.â She jokes, making them both crack another smile.
Unfortunately, thatâs when the door to the girls locker room opens, revealing the flood of girls walking in from the gym. Some of them avoid eye contact with Erica and Fallon due to the latterâs threat, but others whisper quietly about the incident as they walk past, making Fallon roll her eyes. The stares eventually make Erica uncomfortable, causing her to stand up.
âIâm gonna go get a drink of water,â she mumbles towards Fallon before hanging her head low and scurrying out of the room.
Fallon sighs as she watches Erica make her escape. Allison walks over to her friend, a small frown on her face. She crosses her arms over her chest, âIs everything okay?â
âI wouldnât call being made fun of for having a medical disability okay,â Fallon answers honestly. âBut sheâs all right. I just wish there was more we could do to help.â
Allison rubs Fallonâs arm, âWhat you did is more than what most people do,â she smiles gently. âIâm sure she appreciates the way you came to her defense.â She moves to open up her gym locker which is right next to Fallonâs. âYouâre a good person for doing that.â
The girls begin to change back into their regular clothes, but Fallon notices that Ericaâs absence has been for a lot longer than just getting a drink of water. She runs a hand through her hair, glancing around the locker room to see if the blonde slipped back in without her noticing.
She furrows her eyebrows when thereâs no evidence of Ericaâs presence. She turns on her heel when sheâs suddenly hit with this impending feeling that something bad is about to happen. Her hearing zeroes in and all she can hear are the panicked breaths of who she was just looking for.
Erica.
Without thinking, Fallon takes off from the locker room and beelines it towards the gym. Allison runs after her, shouting as she tries to figure out what set the teen wolf off. Fallon bursts into the gym just as Erica begins to seize at least halfway up the rock wall. The brunette charges forward, catching the girl right before she hits the ground. Thatâs when Scott and Stiles also come running in.
Fallon is quick to put the girl on her side, holding her arms still so she doesnât accidentally hit herself. Scott, Allison, and Stiles stare at Fallon in both awe and confusion. âHow did you know?â Allison asks her.
âI could feel it,â Fallon answers, keeping Ericaâs hand in hers.
âSo could I, but you got here way quicker than I did,â Scott points out
Fallonâs body begins to shake the longer she holds onto Erica. Itâs almost like she can feel the girls seizure just by touching her. âI-I donât know,â Fallon says through gritted teeth. âBut someone needs to call 911. Now!â
One of the bystanders does as theyâre told. Stiles furrows his eyebrows, âIt must have something to do with you being more sensitive to strong feelings of distress.â
âI thought that was only gonna full moon,â she grunts out.
âNo,â Scott shakes his head. âNo. Remember, Derek said that if the feelings are strong enough that youâll be able to be in touch with them even when itâs not on a full moon.â
âThen help me get out of touch!â The girl growls as fangs begin to poke out of her mouth, her eyes blazing purple. Itâs the same feeling she had the night of the full moon in Issacâs house. Itâs too much.
âStop that,â Scott scolds her. âWhat are you doing?â
âI canât control it,â she whispers with struggling breaths. She closes her eyes tightly, begging herself to find some sort of anchor, to keep herself grounded.
The sound of heavy footsteps catches their attention. Paramedics are ushering kids out of the way in order to get to Erica. Stiles and Scott take this as their opportunity to pull Fallon away. Stiles lightly grabs her arm, and pulls her out of the gymnasium and into an empty classroom, Allison and Scott following closely behind. THey lock the door as Fallon collapses to the floor, clutching her head. Her body rises and falls with every breath she tries to take, her hands pull at her hair roughly as she whispers calming things to herself.
âFall-â Stiles tries.
âDonât,â she shakes her head, begging him. âI donât want to hurt you.â
He ignores her pleas, walking closer to her. He kneels down in front of her, Scott slowly stepping towards her as well. Stiles lifts her head gently with his hand. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut, but her fangs have retracted back into her normal teeth. âYouâre okay,â he whispers. âI know you wonât hurt me.â He reaches out and takes her now clawed hand in his. As soon as she feels the warmth, the calmness of someone she knows, the feeling of sheer panic she got from Erica subsides.
Her breathing evens out and she finally finds the strength to open her eyes. Stiles admires the flashing purple, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Scott kneels down beside them, taking her other hand in his. âSee?â Stiles says softly. âYou didnât hurt any of us.â
âBut I couldâve,â Fallon counters quietly, feeling more than stupid for the embarrassing display she just put on.
âBut you didnât,â Scott insists. âAnd as far as Iâm concerned, youâre doing a lot better than I was at this point,â he chuckles.
âI donât know if I can handle that all of the time,â Fallon huffs frustratedly. âIf I have a freak out like that every time someone else is in emotional distress, I might actually claw my own face off,â she admits. âItâs too much.â The boys notice how drained she looks after the experience. They noticed it too during the full moon, but they just chalked it up to the craziness of the night. They didnât think it had to do with how connected she is to the feelings and chemo signals in the air.
âHave you been working on trying to control it?â Scott asks her.
âHavenât exactly had time for that, Scotty,â she grumbles, standing up from the floor. âWeâve been a little busy breaking people out of jail.â
âThen thatâs what we need to focus on,â he nods his head. âHelping you control it.â
âWhereâs Stiles?â Fallon tilts her head curiously as she bites into the peanut butter and jelly sandwich thatâs in her hands. Sheâs sitting next to Scott, glancing around the filled cafeteria in search of the third member of their trio.
After the incident earlier, Fallon felt terrible about not going to the hospital with Erica. Sheâs been calling her dad ever since to get updates on her condition, even though he technically wasnât operating on the girl, he made it a point to include her in his rotation of check ins which put his daughter at ease.
âGetting the keys for the ice rink, remember?â Scott reminds her, stealing one of the barbecue chips from the bag next to her. In the midst of chewing, âAre you sure you donât want to come with us? It's supposed to be a friend thing.â
Fallon quirks a brow, âRightâŠâ she nods sarcastically. âA âfriendâ thing with you and your girlfriend along with Stiles and his lifelong crush.â She smiles fakely, pinching his cheek, âYeah, I think Iâll pass. Being a fifth wheel wasnât exactly on my agenda today. Thanks though.â
âYou wouldnât be the fifth wheel,â Scott insists, nudging her shoulder. âCâmon⊠what else are you gonna do tonight if you donât come?â
âAre you insinuating that I donât have a life outside of being friends with you and Stiles?â She asks, mock offended. âBecause I do, Scotty. And for the record, I do have plans for this evening, thank you very much.â
Her plans were to train with Derek. They had set up today to be an afternoon session after her incident at the Lahey house, but they havenât talked since that night. She just hopes the man remembers that he promised to help her.
âReally?â He asks curiously with a hint of surprise.
âGee, try not to act so shocked,â Fallon scoffs, shoving him lightly.
âHey, Iâm just curious,â he tries to defend himself.
âAll you need to know is that itâs gonna help me control my emotions,â Fallon reveals cryptically because she knows he wonât approve of the fact sheâs working with Derek, but Scott just assumes itâs her usual playful demeanor.
âWhy didnât you tell me you were gonna try and train?â Scott asks her. âI wouldâve rescheduled everything and came to help you.â
âScott, I donât want you or Stiles to put your lives on hold just because of me,â she shakes her head. âYou made sure Stiles and I could still do our own thing while you were navigating this crap. It wouldnât be fair of me to expect you guys to drop everything just to help me.â
âBut we would, Fall,â Scott insists. âIf you need us, say the word and weâre there. Youâre our best friend. And I know Allison would be there too.â
âI know,â Fallon shoots him a gentle smile. âAnd I appreciate it, but donât worry about me. If anything happens, Iâll call. Just go out and have fun.â
Scott reluctantly agrees as Stiles comes barreling towards their table, a small frown etched onto his face at the loss of money from getting the key. He slumps into his seat, throwing them in the center of the table as proof. âGot 'em. Pick you both up right after Scott gets off work tonight, and we'll all meet at the rink, cool?â
âIâm not going,â Fallon says and Stilesâ jaw drops.
âW-what?â He looks in between Scott and her, the former confirming Fallonâs statement. âNo, you have to go. Youâre supposed to be my wingwoman!â
âYouâll be fine,â Fallon shrugs. âIf youâre really that desperate, you can just call me.â
âSheâs gonna try to learn control tonight dude,â Scott tells him. âI think we can give her a pass on this one.â
Stiles grumbles lowly under his breath, âFine. But after this, you have to go to everything I tell you to for the next three months.â
Fallon chuckles, âDeal.â
Their conversation is cut short by all the noise in the cafeteria coming to a halt. They notice everyone in the room turning their heads towards the entrance door, and what they see comes as a shock to all. In walks Erica in a tight white tank top, covered by a gorgeous black leather jacket. Her skirt matches the jacket and is accompanied by leopard print high heels. She looks beautiful. Well, Fallon has always found the girl beautiful. What sheâs wearing now just doesnât seem like her usual style. Thatâs when it hits her like a freight train. She can smell it.
Sheâs a werewolf.
The girl bends down at a random table, taking an apple from a boy who was most definitely staring at her for a bit too long. She bites into it sensually, smirking as she does so. Two hands slapping the trioâs lunch table gets their attention. âWhat⊠the holy hell⊠is that?â Lydia narrows her eyes, scrutinizing Ericaâs suddenly stellar appearance.
âItâs Erica,â Scott mumbles, eyes wide from the display being shown to him.
The girl places the apple back down on the boy's lunch tray, that smirk still splayed on her face as she sashays out of the room. As soon as everyone returns to what they were doing, Scott, Fallon, and Stiles shoot up to chase after the newly transformed girl.
They burst out of the front of the school where she just exited, but stop in their tracks as she climbs into a sleek black Camaro. Derekâs Camaro. Fallonâs blood runs cold yet her body burns with rage as Erica smiles, cockily sliding into the passenger seat. Her seat. Both her and Derek grin widely, Derek appearing more than smug as he looks at the shocked expressions on the teens faces. He only falters slightly when he notices Fallonâs shock morph into hurt and anger.
She scoffs, shaking her head before storming back into the school. She shoves the door roughly, allowing it to slam behind her. Derek simply pulls out of the school parking lot, ignoring the gnawing feeling in his chest that convincing her not to bite his head off is going to be much harder this time.
Speeding through the woods on her bike, Fallon is fueled with a different type of anger. He shouldâve talked to her. He shouldâve told her he planned on biting Erica. Sheâs not judging him like Scott is, she just wants to be in the loop. The brunette bites the inside of her cheek as she pulls up to the abandoned train station where Derek has taken up residence. They either meet here or in the woods for training, but after his stunt today at the school, she figured confronting him here would be better. Theyâre less likely to be heard by any hikers or bystanders that way.
She barely parks her bike before chucking her helmet onto the floor and storming into the station. Sheâs seething. If Ericaâs here, things arenât going to pan out well for any of them. Her firsts are clenched, but sheâs managing to keep herself from shifting like she did at the school. When she walks in, sheâs met with the sight of Derekâs back. Heâs covered in a tight fitting blank tank top, blue jeans accompanying the outfit. His leather jacket is resting on a table nearby as he fidgets with whatever is in his hands.
Youâre late.â
Derekâs voice echoes through the abandoned train station as she storms inside. He finally turns around, moving to stand in the middle of the space, arms crossed and looking as impassive as ever. But sheâs not in the mood for his usual stoicism. Not today. Not after what had just happened with Erica.
She can still picture the look on Ericaâs face when she walked out of the school, transformed into a completely different person. The girl sheâd known as quiet, insecure, and struggling was suddenly confident and smirking, walking straight toward Derekâs car as if she hadnât just had her entire life turned upside down.
Derekâs eyes flicker to Fallon, catching the storm brewing behind her expression. âYouâre late for training,â he repeats, his voice calm, but thereâs something under the surface, something she can sense.
But Fallon isnât having it. âScrew training, Derek. What the hell were you thinking, biting her?â
Derekâs face doesnât change, though Fallon could tell by the way his jaw tightened that he knows exactly what she was talking about. He takes a slow breath, his arms still crossed as he spoke. âErica needed this.â
âNeeded it?â Fallon snaps, stepping closer, her fists clenched at her sides. âYou bit her, Derek. You turned her into one of us. Without telling me. Without even a damn warning!â
âI donât need to warn you,â Derek counters, his voice firm, though his gaze softens slightly. âI made the decision. Iâm the Alpha. She wanted the bite.â
Fallon lets out a bitter laugh, but itâs devoid of humor. âYou keep saying that like it makes it okay. Like you didnât just completely change her life. And you didnât think to maybe, I donât know, tell me before biting someone from my school?â
âYou werenât supposed to be involved,â Derek says, his voice lowering, as if that was the key to making her understand.
âWell, guess what? I am involved! You canât keep making decisions like this and acting like Iâm just supposed to be okay with it!â Fallon shouts, her frustration bubbling over. âWeâre supposed to be in this together, Derek. You canât keep shutting me out.â
âI was protecting you,â Derek says through clenched teeth, his own irritation starting to show.
âProtecting me from what?â Fallon demands, taking another step closer, her chest rising and falling rapidly with anger. âFrom knowing what youâre doing? From having a say in something that affects both of us?â
Derek doesnât back down, his eyes flashing as he steps closer too, closing the distance between them. âI donât want you to hate me for the choices I make.â
Fallonâs heart stutters for a moment at the admission, but her anger is still far too hot, too raw, to fully process it. âI donât hate you,â she bites out, her voice sharp. âI hate that you keep me in the dark. That you donât trust me. You want to make these decisions? Fine. But donât act like Iâm not part of this.â
âI do trust you,â Derek says, his voice hard but earnest.
âThen prove it,â Fallon shoots back, her voice rising again.
The tension between them is suffocating now, thick and heavy in the air. Fallon can feel her heart racing, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as the anger simmered just beneath the surface. Her mind is clouded, her emotions a whirlwind of frustration, betrayal, and something elseâsomething deeper.
Derek opens his mouth to say something, but Fallon doesnât wait to hear it. The surge of anger overwhelms her, and before she could stop herself, she lunged at him, shoving him hard in the chest.
Derek barely stumbles, his reflexes too quick for her to catch him off guard. His hands shoot out, grabbing her by the arms and holding her back as she tries to push him again.
âFallon, stop,â he growls, his grip tightening.
But sheâs too far gone. The anger has completely taken over, and all she can think about is how he betrayed her, how he made a decision without her, how he still doesnât understand. With a frustrated yell, she twists out of his grip, shoving him again, harder this time.
âIâm done being left in the dark, Derek!â she shouts, her voice cracking with the intensity of her emotions. âYou donât get to make decisions like this without at least talking to me!â
Derekâs eyes darken, and in one swift motion, he spins her around, slamming her back against the nearest wall. Fallon gasps as her back hits the cold, hard surface, but she isnât afraid. If anything, the physicality only fueled her anger more.
They were inches apart now, Derekâs body pinning hers against the wall, his hands still gripping her arms. Fallonâs chest heaves as she glares up at him, her heart pounding in her ears, her breath coming in ragged bursts.
âDonât,â Derek warns, his voice low, almost dangerous. But thereâs something else in his eyes now, something that mirrored the same emotions raging inside her.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them is electric, charged with the intensity of their argument and the unresolved tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. Fallonâs breath catches in her throat as she realizes just how close they are, how Derekâs eyes have shifted from angry to something else entirely.
Her mind screams at her to push him away, to keep fighting, to hold onto her anger. But her body has other ideas. The longer they stayed like this, the more the tension shifted from anger to something elseâsomething hotter, more dangerous.
Derekâs gaze drops to her lips for a fraction of a second, and Fallonâs heart nearly stops. Her breath hitches, and she curses herself for the way her body responds to him, for the way she feels drawn to him even in the middle of their fight.
âI donât need you to protect me, Derek,â she whispers, her voice barely audible, but she knows he heard it. âI need you to trust me.â
Derekâs grip on her arms loosens, but he doesnât move away. His eyes are still locked onto hers, and Fallon could see the conflict in them, the war heâs waging with himself. She could feel his breath on her skin, the heat of his body pressing against hers, and it was taking everything in her not to give in to the pull between them.
For a split second, Fallon thought he was going to kiss her. And maybe, just maybe, she wouldâve let him.
But then, as if they both realized what was happening at the same time, Derek pulls back, releasing her from his hold and stepping away. Fallon lets out a shaky breath, her chest still rising and falling rapidly as she tries to regain control of herself.
The air between them is still thick with tension, but the fight has dissipated, replaced by something quieter, something more complicated.
âI didnât tell you because I didnât want you to get hurt,â Derek says quietly, his voice no longer harsh, but there was still a rough edge to it. âErica⊠she was struggling. And I didnât want you to see me the way Scott does.â
Fallonâs anger slowly ebbs away as she processes his words. She shakes her head, her voice softer now, though still firm. âIâm not Scott. I donât judge you for what youâve done. I just want you to communicate with me. Thatâs all.â
Derek doesnât respond right away. He just stands there, staring at her with that same guarded expression, as if he was still trying to decide how much to let her in.
Finally, he nods, though itâs subtle. âYouâre right.â
Fallon exhales slowly, feeling the weight of the tension between them starting to lift, though it isnât completely gone. âJust⊠try to keep me in the loop from now on, okay?â
Derek glances at her, his expression softening slightly. âIâll try.â
Thereâs a moment of silence, and Fallon can feel the lingering heat between them, the way the fight had shifted into something different. She isnât sure what to make of it, isnât sure how to handle the way her heart still races when she looks at him.
But for now, the fight is over. Theyâd crossed a line, but they hadnât gone too far.
âGood,â Fallon says finally, her voice steady as she pushes herself off the wall. âNext time, just let me know. Weâre supposed to work together, right?â
Derek doesnât answer, but the look in his eyes is enough for her. For now, it was enough.
Without another word, Fallon turns and walks toward the exit, her heart still pounding in her chest. She didnât know where things stood between them now, but one thing was clearâthey couldnât keep pretending nothing was there.
As she reaches the door, Derekâs voice calls out behind her. âFallon.â
She pauses, turning to look at him.
His expression is unreadable, but there was something softer in his eyes now. âNext time, if you need to yell at me, you can. But donât ever try to lunge at me again.â
Fallon smirks, the tension finally easing between them. âNo promises.â
And with that, she leaves the train station, leaving behind the unresolved tension that would inevitably come back to haunt them both.
âHeâs going to bite someone else, Fallon,â Scott insists as they sit at their usual lunch table once again. Scott had just gotten done confronting Erica about who Derek is going to go after next, fully convinced that he needs three werewolves.
âI never said that he wasnât,â she responds. âBut he told me he would talk to me about it first if he does decide to.â
âYou really think heâs going to tell you?â Scott scoffs. âHe wonât, Fall. He only said that to get you off his back.â
âOr maybe he said it so it wouldnât cause a fight between us, like this.â She gestures in between them. âDid you ever think maybe the reason heâs not telling me is because if I know, heâs aware youâll get mad at me for not immediately turning around and telling you?â
âI wouldnât get mad at you.â
âReally?â She looks at him skeptically. âSo if I told you I know exactly who his next target is, youâre not gonna be mad that I didnât tell you sooner?â
Scott opens and closes his mouth. He wants to protest, but sheâs right. He would be upset with her if he found out she was keeping vital information about Derekâs pack from him. He doesnât really even agree with her being as close to Derek as she is. But if thereâs one thing he knows about Fallon itâsâ that nothing and no one can control her. He loves her more than anything. Theyâve been friends since they were kids after all. So he would never tell her who she can and canât hang out with, but that doesnât change the fact heâs still overly protective of her.
Suddenly Stiles appears out of nowhere, placing his hands on their shoulders. He has a panicked look on his face, âGuys, do you see that?â He points to the empty table a few feet away from them.
Fallon and Scott are pulled out of their brief argument to look at where Stiles is gesturing to. They furrow their eyebrows at the same time, âWhat? Itâs an empty table?â Scott says, confused.
âYeah, but whose empty table?â Stiles eggs on.
Fallonâs eyes widen in realization, âBoydâŠâ
She internally curses Derek out in her mind, realizing that he left her out⊠again. Did he know she and Scott would have an argument over it? Or did he truly just tell her what she wanted to hear to get her off his back? The three of them rush into the hallway as they try to devise a plan to find Boyd before Derek does.
âI'm going to the ice rink, see if he's there. And, if he's not at home, one of you call me, got it?â Scott instructs, his tone serious.
âNo.â Fallon shakes her head. âIâm going with you to the ice rink. Itâs more than likely heâs there anyway, and you can use some backup.â
âFallââ
âScott,â she cuts him off. âDonât argue with me. Iâm coming with you. Thatâs final.â
âGuys, maybe we should just let himâŠâ Stiles says, making Scott look at him incredulously. âBoyd, you know, ma? I mean, Fallon said Derek's giving them a choice, right?â
âHe is,â Fallon confirms once again. âAnd I already tried talking him out of biting more people, words donât really work that well with him,â she sighs. âHeâs not exactly the best communicator to begin with,â she mumbles that last part more so to herself than the boys.â
âWe canât,â Scott insists, continuing to speed walk down the hallway, pulling his friends along with him.
âYou gotta admit, Erica looks pretty goodâŠâ Stiles comments, careful not to anger Fallon who now has personal issues with the blonde. âYou know, the word âsensationalâ comes to mindâŠâ Fallon rolls her eyes at the mention of her name. One minute theyâre talking like best friends and the next sheâs climbing into Derekâs Camaro and trying to flirt with Scott.
Scott scoffs loudly, âYeah, how good do you think she's gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet in her head?â
Stiles lets out a sigh of defeat, âAll right. All I'm saying is, maybe this one isn't totally your responsibility.â He shrugs, trying to convince Scott that itâs not all on him.
âThey all are. And you know this thing's gonna get out of control. That makes me responsible.â
âAll right, weâre with you.â Stiles gives in as he sends a brief glance to Fallon, just tho he sure they truly are in. âAnd, I also gotta say... this new-found heroism is making me very attracted to youâŠâ
âShut up,â Scott scoffs, shoving Stilesâ shoulder as he shakes his head.
âNo seriously!â Stiles insists as he yells out after his friends who are now walking away from him. âDo You wanna just try making out for a sec? Just to see how it feels?â
âYâknow, Iâm kinda offended, Sti,â Fallon calls out playfully as she and Scott retreat further and further down the hall. âThought I was the only friend you wanted to make out with.â
âWhy canât I want to make out with both of you?!â
âLet me do the talking,â Scott whispers to Fallon as they pull up to the ice rink on Fallonâs bike.
âWhat?â Fallon looks at him incredulously. âNo,â she scoffs.
âYes!â He insists in a whisper-yell. âI know what to say to convince him. Plus, you can get a little⊠aggressive sometimes. Especially since you canât control your shifts right now. I donât want you trying to rip his throat out or something.â
âI wonât!â Fallon smacks him as they swing the door open and walk into the lobby of the ice rink. âBut Iâm not just gonna sit silently while you do all the work.â
âIâm not doing all the work,â he says with a shy shrug. âYou can be the muscle, how about that?â
She glares at him, âI hate you.â
The two of them step onto the ice, coming face to face with Boyd driving the ice resurfacer. Scott squares his shoulders, keeping his face serious as he calls out for the boy, âBoyd, I just want to talkâŠ.â He ignores their presence, continuing to clean and smooth over the ice.Watching the scuff marks disappear would be a satisfying thing to watch if they werenât worried for the boyâs life. âHey, come on. Boyd, please.â Scott begs.
Fallon shoves her hands into her pockets, biting the inside of her cheek. Scott told her to stay silent, so she will. Even though she knows exactly what to say to get his attention. She cracks her neck quietly as Scott scrambles for something more to say. âDid Derek tell you everything? And I don't just mean going out of control on the full moonsâ I mean everything.â
Thatâs when the machine stops. Boyd sucks in a deep breath, annoyed by Scottâs incessant need to save people. He turns to face them,â He told me about the hunters,â he informs.
âAnd that's not enough for you to say no?â Scott asks incredulously with wide eyes. âWhatever you want, there's other ways to get it.â
âI just wanna not eat lunch alone every day.â
Thereâs a heartbreaking silence that follows Boydâs statement. Fallonâs heart swells with empathy. Sheâs never had to worry about eating lunch alone because sheâs always had Scott and Stiles. Ever since moving here, theyâve been by her side. Boyd apparently has never had that and that makes a frown cover her face. She shifts uncomfortably, briefly blaming herself for never noticing how lonely Boyd truly was. She couldâve easily invited him to sit with her, Scott, and Stiles, but she never did.
Scott is taken aback for a second until he regains his composure, âIf youâre looking for friends, you can do a lot better than Derek.â
âThat really hurts, Scott.â
Both Fallon and Scott jump at the sound of Derekâs voice. They spin around and see him with Issac and Erica standing behind him. They are all wearing leather jackets, smug smiles on their faces. âI mean, if youâre going to review me, at least take a consensus,â he gestures towards the two teens behind him. âErica⊠howâs life been for you since we met?â
Erica tilts her head in pretend thought. She bites her lip, âHmm. In a word? Transformative.â
âIssac?â Derek smirks.
The boy shrugs with a small hum, âWell, Iâm a little bummed about being a fugitive⊠but, other than that, Iâm great.â
âAnd how about you Fall?â Derek says almost mockingly. Scott appears confused as he looks at his best friend. âOr have you not told him about how youâve been meeting me for training sessions for the past two weeks?â
Her chest tightens at the way he nonchalantly exposes their agreement. He promised her he wouldnât say anything. But he also said that he would tell her if he was going to bite another person. Like she said, words clearly donât mean much to him.
She clenches her jaw, her anger rising with every second she stares at his stupid face. Scott sighs, sensing her raising pulse. They can talk about the training sessions later. âOkay, hold on. This isnât exactly a fair fight.â
Derek shrugs, âThen go home.â
Suddenly hair grows out of the side of Scottâs face, his eyes shifting into their golden yellow. His fangs and claws stretch out of his body as a low menacing growl leaves his lips. âI meant, fair for them.â
Fallon allows her own shift to happen. Fueled by anger, her claws extend from her nails and her eyes turn bright purple. Her sights are set directly on Erica who charges at her. Fallon may be inexperienced compared to Scott, but considering Erica has only been a wolf for less than a week, Fallon definitely has the upper hand.
Fallon narrows her eyes, watching as Erica paces confidently across the ice, her newfound strength evident in every step. Fallon stands a few feet away, her feet planted firmly, waiting for the inevitable attack. Ericaâs movements are sharp, controlled, the cocky smirk on her face taunting Fallon, daring her to make the first move.
But Fallon doesn't. She knows better. Sheâs been training for this, for moments just like this one. Her focus is razor-sharp, her instincts already guiding her body as she braces herself.
Erica lunges, teeth bared, claws extended. Fallon sidesteps her with ease, gliding across the ice like itâs second nature. Erica spins around, determined, throwing a wild punch at Fallonâs face, but Fallonâs quicker. She ducks, dodging the blow and responding with a swift kick to Ericaâs midsection, sending her stumbling back.
Thereâs no hesitation, no second-guessing. Fallon moves in, closing the distance, delivering a punch that connects with Ericaâs jaw. The crack echoes across the rink as Erica reels, but Fallon doesnât stop. Her power as a lunar sentinel surges through her, controlled but devastating. She grabs Erica by the shoulder and slams her back into the boards, pinning her there.
Erica snarls, eyes glowing yellow, but Fallonâs grip is iron-tight. Erica claws at Fallonâs arms, desperate to free herself, but itâs no use. Fallonâs too strong, too well-trained.
With a grunt, Erica finally pushes back, attempting to break free, but Fallonâs ready. She twists, sweeping Ericaâs legs out from under her. Erica hits the ice with a heavy thud, the breath knocked from her lungs. Fallon stands over her, panting slightly, her eyes locked on Ericaâs, daring her to get up.
But Erica doesnât move. She knows sheâs been beaten.
Fallon straightens, her heart still racing, but her focus unbroken. She looks down at Erica, her face set in stone. She glances back up at Scott who has just sent Issac tumbling to the floor with a groan. The beta with golden eyes looks at the newly transformed werewolves with frustration, âDon't you get it? He's not doing this for you,â Scott seethes angrily. âHe's just adding to his own power, okay? It's all about him.â Derek watches from afar, a smirk still plastered on his face. âHe makes you feel like he's giving you some kind of gift, when all he's done is turn you into a bunch of guard dogs!â
Scott tosses Issacâs body across the ice, Fallon doing the same to Ericaâs. Derekâs betas slide to his feet, both of them disoriented from getting beat by the other two teens standing across from them. Derek gazes down at his pack, his confidence never wavering.
âItâs true,â Derek nods admitting, slowly walking across the ice towards Scott and Fallon. All the girl wants to do is kick the crap out of him, but heâs taught her everything she knows. âIt is about power.â
He flashes his claws in their direction, his irises shifting from their captivating green to a bright red. He continues to strut forward with a confidence that makes Fallon swallow her nerves. She gets into a defensive position when suddenly sheâs hauled backwards. She thrashes around in Boydâs arms, who just hopped out of the machine and wrapped her in a headlock at Derekâs silent behest. Thereâs no way the boy could hold her in this wolfed out state if he wasnât already bitten. She feels a sharp sting in her neck and thatâs when she notices the small syringe sticking out of Boydâs hand. A sedative?
The girl tries to break free, using as much of her strength as possible, but even with her body rapidly healing, whatever Derek told him to inject her with is strong. She watches helplessly as Derek beats Scott over and over again. Scott manages to get a few good hits in, but heâs no match for Derek. The Alpha knocks Scott in the face with his elbow, sending the boy flying to the ground. Her best friend spits blood out of his mouth before Derek steps on his chest in order to constrict his breathing.
âStop!â Fallon screams weakly. She manages to hit Boyd where it hurts, his grip releasing on her long enough to escape. She stumbles forward, her limbs still feeling like jelly from whatever was in the syringe. She runs into Derek, slamming her fists onto his chest. âGet off of him!â
The way her voice cracks makes Derek falter. He didnât want to be forced to fight her maliciously, thatâs why he had the syringe prepared. He knew she would be here, and he couldnât risk hurting her. Not that she would understand that with how hurt she is right now. He takes a step away, removing the pressure from Scottâs throat. Fallon falls to the floor, picking up Scott and letting him rest his head against her chest. She doesnât even bother looking back up at Derek, she canât. But heâs still looking at her. Maybe he did make a mistake.
But he wouldnât say that to her.
Derek turns to walk back towards his other two betas as Boyd turns on his heels in order to follow. Scott gasps and groans in pain as Fallon tries to nurse his wounds. âDont,â Scott begs Boyd. âYou donât wanna be like themâŠâ he says weakly.
âYou're right,â Boyd nods before lifting up his shirt to show where Derek had already bitten him. Fallon already had a feeling. Thereâs no way he couldâve kept her restricted like that without some supernatural assistance. âI wanna be like you.â
