cm punk x fem!reader enemies to lovers? in the mood for my fav trope lol
cm punk x reader
likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
‼️enemies to lovers, some angst, unwanted attention, touch without consent‼️
NOT SO BAD AFTER ALL
cm punk was insufferable.
everything about him got under your skin. the way he walked around like he owned the place, the smug smirk that always seemed permanently glued to his face, the way he always had something to say, especially to you. he had this aura, this energy, that made you want to roll your eyes every time you saw him.
and it wasn’t just you. everyone knew you and punk couldn’t stand each other. as if everyone could stand him either.
it had started the second he returned to the company. you were backstage, lacing up your boots, when he waltzed in like he had never left. he barely spared you a glance before muttering something like “they’re really letting just anyone into this business now, huh?”
you had clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm “and they’re really giving second chances to people who can’t play well with others, huh?”
you were tired already.
his smirk had deepened, like he enjoyed getting a reaction out of you “careful, sweetheart. you might not like what happens when you start playing with the big kids.”
from that moment on, it was war.
every interaction was a battle of quick glances and snide remarks. every glance was a challenge. he never let you breathe, always finding a way to get under your skin.
he’d critique your matches and your way of fighting.
“not bad out there. a little sloppy, but you’ll get there” he would say.
he’d scoff whenever you walked into a room, like your presence was an inconvenience.
“oh great, you again.”
and you gave it right back.
“don’t sound so excited, punk. wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle”
it got to the point where people backstage started betting on how long it would take for one of you to finally snap.
a lot bet on you first. you were the emotive one. and they didn’t know how much you could handle before you started screaming back at him.
“just give in and fight already” seth rollins had joked once, laughing as he watched you and punk bicker over god-knows-what “or, you know, just make out and get it over with.”
you had almost choked.
“yeah bad idea…” seth said “just fight then…hurt his ego, for me” he made you smile a little.
punk heard everything of course. earning a bad look from rollins too.
“she couldn’t handle me” he said as he watched you.
you had shoved him hard enough on your way out that he actually stumbled “in your dreams, old man.”
but no matter how much you hated him, you could never quite shake the feeling that he enjoyed this. like he liked having someone challenge him, push back, refuse to bow down to his bullshit.
and maybe, deep down, a part of you liked it too.
but you’d rather die than admit that.
but then everything changed.
it was after a long show. you were sore, exhausted, just trying to get back to the locker room and call it a night. the arena was quiet, most people already gone or wrapping up interviews.
smackdown had been amazing that night but your tired ass couldn’t wait to lay down for the night.
walking backstage you had just rounded a corner when you heard footsteps behind you.
before you could react, a hand grabbed your arm.
your heart stopped.
the grip was too tight, the voice behind you too familiar.
“where you off to in such a hurry?”
you froze. you knew that voice. one of the guys working backstage who had always made you uncomfortable, who always crossed the line with his comments, his stares, the way he seemed to linger whenever you were around.
you yanked your arm, but his grip tightened.
“let go” you said trying not to sound too scared.
he laughed.
“relax, sweetheart. just wanted to talk” he smirked.
your stomach turned. your pulse spiked.
you were about to shove him away, maybe even scream, when suddenly - he was gone.
ripped away from you so fast you barely processed what happened.
your breath came out in sharp, shallow bursts as you took a step back, heart pounding, adrenaline surging through your veins.
and then you saw him.
phil. standing over the guy, fists clenched, chest heaving, eyes burning with a rage you had never seen before.
the guy on the floor groaned, clutching his jaw, but phil didn’t even look at him. his eyes were on you.
“you okay?” his voice was sharp, but underneath it, there was something else, something almost gentle.
your throat felt tight. you nodded, but your hands were still shaking.
phil exhaled through his nose, stepping closer, just enough that his presence felt protective instead of suffocating.
“what the hell were you thinking?” his voice was low, tense “walking around alone like that?”
you swallowed hard “what? this is my workplace too…i-i wasn’t thinking…”
“exactly. you didn’t think” he ran a hand through his hair, jaw still tight “jesus, y/n.”
his mind was racing thinking about the things that could have happened if he got there too late or if he didn’t find you at all.
you had never seen him like this before. this was real. this was anger wrapped in concern.
he cared.
and that realization hit you harder than anything else.
“come on,” he muttered, his hand finally brushing against your arm, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him “let’s get you out of here.”
and you let him.
because for the first time in forever, punk wasn’t the enemy. he was something else entirely. and you weren’t sure what to do with that.
and from that day on punk didn’t leave your side after that.
at first, you thought it was just because he felt responsible like he had to make sure you weren’t going to crumble or do something stupid. but it wasn’t just that.
it was in the way he lingered a little longer than necessary whenever you were around. the way he always made sure you weren’t walking alone, even if he never admitted he was doing it on purpose. the way his usual snarky comments had softened, losing some of their bite.
you tried to ignore it at first, but it was impossible. especially when he started looking at you differently.
it was after another show, a week after the incident. you were sitting in catering, picking at your food, when he sat across from you.
“you eat like a bird” he commented.
you shot him a glare “you watch me eat quite often, phil.”
he smirked, but it wasn’t his usual cocky one. this one was softer, almost fond.
you hated that it made your stomach flip.
“just making sure you don’t pass out in the ring” he shrugged.
“how sweet of you” you sarcastically remarked.
“i know” he said but then he hesitated, his fingers tapping against the table “seriously, though… you doing okay?”
your eyes met his, and for the first time, you saw it - real concern.
you swallowed, looking away, feeling shy “yeah… i’m okay.”
he didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. instead, he just nodded “good.”
you weren’t sure why that made your chest feel warm.
things kept shifting between you after that.
the tension was still there, but it was different now. it wasn’t sharp, wasn’t full of irritation or frustration. now it was something else entirely.
you caught him staring at you more often, his eyes lingering, his expression unreadable.
he found excuses to be around you, even when he had no reason to be.
and then one night, after a show, it all boiled over.
you had been walking back and forth in the locker room, the same as always, but this time, there was something charged in the air.
his presence was there. back with his remarks and sneaky comments but this time it felt right.
you shoved him lightly, rolling your eyes “god, you’re impossible.”
his smirk didn’t waver, but there was something dangerous in his eyes “you love it.”
yeah you did.
you scoffed “i tolerate it…i barely tolerate it.”
he stepped closer. too close.
“sure you do” he murmured.
your breath hitched. you should have stepped back. should have said something. but you didn’t.
because suddenly, it all made sense.
the tension, the arguing, the way you couldn’t stand him but also couldn’t stay away from him.
it wasn’t hate. it had never been hate. and when he leaned in, his lips hovering just over yours, he smirked.
“tell me to stop” he whispered.
you didn’t because you didn’t want him to.
and when his lips finally met yours, when his hands found your waist, when he pulled you against him like he had been waiting for this all along you knew.
cm punk was insufferable but maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind anymore.
