Do You Know What A Protostar Is? Yes I Do Simon.

Reminders

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"After Hours" by @femdisa

"Bite Your Tongue" by @wallofchynax

"Closest To Heaven That I'll Ever Be" by @punkssavior

"Cult Of Personality" by @onlyangel4

"Harder To Breathe" by @onlyangel4

"I Get Off" by @eringobragh420

"I Got It" by @eringobragh420

"Tired Of You" by @punkssavior

"Baby Blue" by @fistsandfangs

"Clash of Royalty" by @there-goes-thefighter

"One PM Meeting" by @harmshake (unable to include link)

"Personal Best" by @femdisa

"Red, White, and Ruin" by @onlyangel4

"Suit and Tie" by @mytribalnightmare

"The Perfect Pair" by @eringobragh420

"Dirty Chai" by @fistsandfangs

"Good Boy" @acknowledge-reigns (unable to include link)

"I'm Only Sleeping" by @eringobragh420

"Mash" by @teamchasezwrites

"Off Script" by @onlyangel4

"Reasons" by @harmshake (unable to include link)

"Reina de mi Corazon" by @bijouxcarys

"I Believe In A Thing Called Love" by @onlyangel4

"Of The Night" by @fistsandfangs

"Save The Date" by @shes2real

“What the hell has gotten into you?” you giggled, Punk’s sharp beard grazing your cheek, neck, his lips wet and sucking, teeth clamping harder than normal. Your body quivered. His rugged, tattooed arms wrapped around your waist, pressing his front to your back, and he kissed along the back of your neck as he made his way to the other side, covering your skin in just as many kisses, sucks, and bites.

“Nothing,” he breathed, hands rising to grab your breasts through your bra, massaging, tugging the cups down through your shirt to flick at your nipples. Your hips thrust back instinctively.

“Bullshit,” you mumbled. “You haven’t been able to keep your hands off me since you picked me up.”

“So?” Punk countered. “I like feeling up my wife. Is that such a big deal?” His hands dipped slowly over your ribs, clutching at your sides for a moment before they slid forward, his thick fingers meeting at your belly button.

Oh, you knew what this was about.

“Well, you’re feeling up my stomach. Is there a … reason for that?” You asked, turning in his arms, your hands sliding up his soft t-shirt, feeling the muscles you memorized long ago as your arms snaked around his neck. He was flushed, pupils dilated, breath short and hot. You felt his growing cock against your hip.

“You know what it is,” Punk mumbled, kissing your lips before moving on to your cheek and neck once more.

“I do know,” you purred, hands on his neck so you could push him away and look into those feral emerald eyes once more. “I just like to hear you say it.”

Punk smirked, his fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. “I just …” His gaze fell, still smiling, and then he looked at you again. “Every time we see that girl and her … belly, I just wanna …” He raised a hand, clenching into a fist, and you couldn’t stop the giggle at his crumbling resolve.

“Say it, Daddy,” you pressed.

Punk’s eyes shifted, darkened, and his hands dropped heavily onto your hips. “Yeah? You want me to say it?” You nodded, combing your fingers through his silky hair. “You wanna hear how fucking sexy you would look pregnant with my baby?” You gasped, biting your lip, hands tugging at the ends of his hair. “Hmm? With your cute little bump.” You giggled, tucking your face into his chest, hands falling, wrapping them around his middle. “Everybody’s congratulating us, but you know what they’re really thinking, don’t you?” Your hands slid down to his ass, cupping his cheeks through his jeans, pulling him closer to you. “That you spread your legs for CM Punk so he could dump his load inside you—” Another gasp from you and you slipped your hands into his back pockets in an effort to get closer, but he gently pushed you away, cupping your face, nose grazing yours. “They’ll wonder what position.” He pulled your shirt over your head, your tits falling freely without the barrier of a bra.

“Was it missionary?” he went on, walking you backward down the hall toward the master bedroom. “Did I have you bent over and begging?” His beard scraped your cheek as his hot breath ghosted across your ear. Your pussy clenched, gushed, a promise of acceptance whenever Punk was done teasing you. “Were you riding me, begging me to make you a mommy?”

“Fuck,” you whispered, clawing at his shirt until he finally removed it. You kissed his chest, licked his tattoos, sucked his nipples, and the groan he responded with contained a hint of fondness.

“I know that’s what you want, sweet girl,” Punk breathed. He laid you back on the bed, instantly dining on your pebbled nipple, squeezing its twin, tenderly twisting that nipple as if he were controlling the volume on a radio. “You want Daddy to spend the rest of the night filling you with his cum.” Your thighs tightened at his hips, feet on his ass drawing him nearer. “So he can watch your belly grow, watch you carry what he gave you …”

“Christ, Punk,” your breath hitched.

He yanked your shorts and panties down your legs smoothly, somehow still leaving you in your sneakers. The tips of his fingers slipped along your soaking slit, dipping inside, circling your throbbing clit. Your spine bowed, legs falling open, bending your knees and bringing your sneakers onto the mattress with you.

“Say it,” Punk softly ordered, two of his thick fingers sinking inside you slowly, his thumb taking over the work on your aching nub. “You just have to tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

After a few deep breaths, with your eyes closed, you replied, “I want you to fuck me.”

“And?” His fingers pumped as deep as they could, scissoring, and an embarrassing whine of utter desperation escaped your lips.

“Come inside me,” you mewled.

“And?” Punk urged, almost angrily, bicep flexing as he fucked you with his fingers.

“Just! Jesus Christ!” you shouted, unleashing verbally your frustration and urgency, sobbing even louder when he removed his fingers without so much as a warning.

Your husband simply chuckled as he leisurely unbuckled his belt, your eyes drawn to the Vs at his hips, the glistening on the fingers that had just been inside you. You sat up on your elbows as he opened his gray jeans, reaching inside and pausing for dramatic effect—it worked, your brows furrowed as your bottom lip jutted out, a muffled hmph resonating from your nostrils. Punk guffawed, head falling back, and you were about to kick him in the thigh with one of your sneakers.

“Filthy mouth for a girl about to be someone’s mother,” Punk growled, crawling on top of you. “Maybe you don’t deserve my cum.”

“No!” you shrieked, grabbing his shoulder when he started away, happily playing along with his setup, his kink. “Please?” Punk again dropped his weight onto you, long, curved cock rocking along your dripping cunt. “Please come inside me, Daddy,” you begged, the yearning a little more evident than you would have liked.

Punk pressed his hot forehead to yours, his hands grabbing hold of yours, imprisoning them high above your head on the blankets. He shook his head slowly, skin rubbing yours, chunks of his hair caught in the middle, your eyes locked in a silent battle. “Do better,” he rumbled.

You gasped, pressing your lips to his, surprised when he allowed a quick kiss. “Please fuck a baby into me, Daddy.”

“Yeah?” Punk whispered, lining his cock up with your clenching hole.

You nodded. “Mhmm. And after I have it, I want you fucking another one into me …”

“Fuck,” Punk breathed, submerging his fat cock deep inside your pussy in one thrust, shoving you several inches up the bed. “God, you’re gonna be so fuckin’ sexy,” he mumbled, skipping the lead-up and starting immediately with a hammering pace. He kissed his way along your neck and collarbone before sitting up grabbing your hips, jerking your body to meet every thrust. “Everyone’s gonna know who you fuckin’ belong to.”

You grinned. “Not just that …” Punk’s sweaty brows rose, pupils blown, abdominal muscles working overtime. “They’re gonna know how much of a whore I am for your cum.”

“Ah, fuck, here it comes,” Punk panted. “Fucking take it.” One final pound and he released inside you. His hand was still on your belly as if he could feel his cock there, feel his cum filling your womb.

Once every drop was drained, he carefully pulled out and plopped onto his back beside you, “Fuck, that was hot,” he chuckled.

You rolled to face him, tucking yourself into his side as your kissed his neck, jawline, cheek, ear. “Someday soon this is gonna be real,” you mumbled, a lazy smile tugging at your lips as your felt Punk’s cum leaking out of you.

“Might be sooner than you think.”

You lifted your head, brows knitted together. “What?”

Punk shrugged, scratching at his chest. “I’m just saying … birth control pills are easy to replace with placebos.” Your eyes widened, heart pumping, and you started to sit up. “Shut up, I’m kidding!” Your husband said, tossing an arm around your neck and yanking you back to his chest.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile. “Asshole.”

the roar of the crowd rattled through your chest, a living heartbeat that seemed to pulse through the walls. you stood just behind the curtain, the familiar wash of adrenaline coursing through you even though you weren’t the one about to step out there. you never got used to this part, the waiting, the watching.

seth was already bouncing on his toes, rolling his shoulders loose, the faintest sheen of sweat shining on his temples. he always looked like he was born for this moment: the lights waiting, the music ready, the entire arena chanting his name. but you saw what no one else did. the way his hand lingered too long on the brace strapped around his knee. the brief flicker in his eyes when his weight shifted just slightly wrong. the ghost of a limp that he thought he hid well enough.

"last one before mania" he muttered, almost to himself, almost to you.

you forced a smile. "you’ve got this. like always."

he flashed you a grin, the one meant to reassure you, the one he’d perfected over the years, and then his theme music hit. the crowd erupted, and he was gone, swallowed into the light and smoke.

you turned toward the monitor, heart hammering. you’d watched him wrestle a hundred times before, maybe more. you knew every rhythm, every tell, every swaggering flourish he threw to the crowd. tonight, though, something was off. you saw it the moment he slid into the ring. the shift of his stance wasn’t clean. He favored the left leg.

the match was a blur of motion and noise. every stomp, every knee strike, every whip into the ropes made your stomach tighten. he was still seth rollins, the charisma, the fire, the stubborn defiance, but you could see the cracks spiderwebbing beneath the surface. the moment he climbed the ropes, you gripped the edge of the monitor stand so hard your knuckles ached. his landing drew a roar from the audience, but you saw the grimace he hid in a snarl. his hand brushed his knee.

your breath caught. he pushed through. of course he did. he always pushed through.

by the final stretch, sweat slicked his hair to his forehead, his chest heaving with exertion. the crowd screamed his name as he delivered the finishing move, covered his opponent, and took the three-count. victory. another notch in his belt. to everyone out there, it was just another seth rollins triumph.

but as the ref raised his arm, his leg buckled almost imperceptibly. you saw it. you felt it. and when he limped out of the ring, jaw tight, smile plastered in place for the cameras, your heart sank.

the curtain swallowed him again, the crowd’s noise muffled to a distant thunder. then came the sound you dreaded most, a sharp, bitten-off hiss of pain, the stumble of boots dragging against concrete.

you were already moving toward him.

by the time you reached him, seth was hunched against the wall, one hand braced on the concrete as if it might stop the world from tilting. his other arm clutched his knee, his face twisted in a grimace that he tried to bury the moment your eyes met his.

"i’m fine" he rasped, as if saying it would make it true.

"fine?" you slipped under his arm before he could argue, taking as much of his weight as you could. "you can barely stand."

trainers swarmed in an instant, voices overlapping, hands steadying him on both sides as they hurried him down the hall. you stayed pressed close, refusing to let go even when they urged you to give them space.

the trainer’s room smelled of antiseptic and sweat, too bright under the fluorescent lights. seth sat on the table while the doctor cut away the tape and peeled back the brace. his jaw was clenched, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if sheer willpower might keep him from reacting. but when the doctor pressed along the joint, a sharp hiss escaped him anyway.

"stability’s gone" the doctor muttered, shaking his head. "ligaments aren’t holding like they used to."

seth shifted up on his elbows. "so what are we talking? a few weeks? couple months?"

the doctor’s gaze softened in that way that never meant anything good. "seth you’ve had multiple tears, multiple repairs. the cartilage is wearing down. if you push it any further, you won’t just be risking your career. you’ll be risking your ability to walk without pain ten years from now."

the room went quiet. you heard the steady hum of the air vent, the distant roar of the crowd outside still cheering for a man who didn’t know his career had just been declared over.

seth gave a short, incredulous laugh, though his eyes were wet. "you’re saying i’m done?"

the doctor didn’t answer right away, and that was answer enough.

you pressed your hand to seth’s, fingers curling tight around his. he didn’t squeeze back. his stare was glassy, fixed on a point beyond the wall, as though maybe if he refused to look at you, refused to look at anyone, it wouldn’t be true.

when the trainers left, silence settled heavy and suffocating. seth sat with his hands folded in his lap, the ice pack strapped to his knee like an accusation.

he finally spoke, voice low and raw. "that’s it? after everything? i don’t even get to decide?"

you slid onto the table beside him, your thigh brushing his. he didn’t look at you, not yet, but he didn’t move away either.

your hand found the back of his neck, damp strands of hair curling against your palm. you didn’t tell him it would be okay, because you both knew it wouldn’t feel that way tonight. instead, you said the only thing that mattered.

"i’m here. whatever happens next, i’m here."

for a moment his composure cracked. his lips parted like he wanted to say something, scream, rage, beg, but all that came was a shuddering breath. he leaned forward until his forehead rested against your shoulder, his body heavy against yours.

and as the crowd outside cheered for a victory that suddenly meant nothing, you held him in the trainer’s room, knowing this night would mark the end of everything he’d built.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

by the time you left the arena, the crowd had already thinned, the last chants of his name echoing faintly in the distance. the night air hit sharp and cool, heavy with the smell of asphalt and rain. storm clouds had rolled in without warning, and now the sky opened above you, water pouring in sheets that plastered your hair to your face and soaked through your clothes within seconds.

seth limped beside you, hood pulled low, his arm draped over your shoulders for support. he hadn’t spoken much since the trainer’s room. not when you gathered his bag, not when you guided him through the labyrinth of hallways, not when security cleared the path to the lot. he was quiet in a way that frightened you, not angry, not even bitter. just hollow.

you tightened your arm around his waist. "car’s not far. just a little further."

he nodded, but his steps slowed, his boots scuffing against the wet pavement. at first you thought the pain had caught up to him again, but when you looked up, his expression was distant. the rain slicked down his cheeks, beading in his beard, darkening the strands of his hair until it clung to his face.

he stopped just short of the car, his weight sagging more heavily into you. his voice came quiet, almost lost beneath the storm.

"guess this is it."

the words lodged in your chest. you swallowed hard, searching for something to say, but nothing came. no speech could soften the blow of what he’d lost tonight. so you did the only thing you could. You shifted in front of him, pressed both palms to his chest, and leaned into the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingers.

his eyes finally met yours, wide and raw in a way that stripped away the bravado, the character, the performer. for a moment, he wasn’t seth rollins, the superstar. he was just a man in the rain, broken in places no spotlight could ever heal.

you slid your arms around him carefully, mindful of his knee, and held him close. his chest shuddered against yours, the breath leaving him like he’d been holding it for far too long. slowly, he bent his head until his forehead touched yours, his nose brushing damp strands of your hair.

neither of you spoke. the storm raged on, thunder rolling low in the distance, rain soaking through to your skin. but in that silence, wrapped in his arms, you let him lean on you, let him unravel just a little.

he didn’t need promises tonight. He didn’t need answers. all he needed was this, you, steady at his side, refusing to let him face the end alone.

and so you held him, in the rain, at the end of the road.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the house was too quiet.

you hadn’t realized how much of your life had been built on noise until it was gone, the constant travel, the echo of arenas through the tv speakers, the rush of fans outside hotels. now there was just silence, broken only by the low hum of the television in the living room.

seth sat on the edge of the couch, elbows braced on his knees, eyes glued to the screen. the replay of one of his old matches flickered in the dark room, the glow carving sharp lines into his face. he’d been watching for hours, flipping from one bout to the next, muttering under his breath at mistakes only he could see.

"footwork’s sloppy" he grumbled. "look at that, should’ve pivoted earlier."

you leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching him watch himself. his knee was propped on a cushion, the brace resting nearby on the coffee table, forgotten for the moment. his hair hung loose, damp from the shower, but his expression was anything but calm. his eyes tracked every movement on screen with a restless intensity, jaw tight, lips pressed into a thin line.

"maybe you should turn it off" you suggested gently.

he barely glanced at you. "i need to see what went wrong."

"seth" you crossed the room, lowering yourself onto the couch beside him. the commentary on the tv blared, but it felt far away compared to the strain in his voice. "you didn’t do anything wrong. your body just"

"i said I need to see it." his tone snapped sharp, louder than he meant, and the sound of it stung in the quiet room.

the silence that followed was heavier than before. he blinked, realization softening the hard lines of his face. his hand reached for you almost immediately, brushing over yours where it rested on your lap.

"sorry" he murmured, voice low, rough. "i didn’t mean"

you squeezed his fingers gently, cutting off the apology before it could spiral. his hand trembled faintly in yours, the tension still thrumming under his skin.

on the screen, the match ended. the crowd erupted into cheers, chanting his name. seth’s gaze stayed locked there, like he couldn’t look away from the ghost of who he used to be. His voice cracked when he finally spoke again.

"that used to be me."

you turned his hand in yours, threading your fingers together. "it still is."

for the first time that night, he tore his eyes away from the screen to look at you. the anger was gone, but in its place sat something heavier, grief, raw and unfiltered. and in that moment, you realized that for all the matches he’d fought, this was the battle he didn’t know how to win.

so you leaned into him, resting your shoulder against his, and let your presence speak louder than any words could.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the knock at the door came mid afternoon, just as seth was restlessly shifting through channels with nothing holding his attention. He barely looked up, muttering, "probably a delivery."

you crossed the living room to answer it, but when you pulled the door open, a familiar grin greeted you.

"hey" bron breakker said, all broad shoulders and boyish charm, his duffel bag slung casually over one arm. "hope i'm not intruding."

before you could answer, seth’s voice carried from the couch. "bron?"

bron stepped inside, his energy filling the room like sunlight. He looked every bit the rising star he was: fresh off tv, his hair damp from a workout, his movements radiating that effortless confidence of someone who hadn’t yet tasted true defeat.

"wanted to check on you" bron said, setting his bag down. "heard what happened. figured i owed you a visit."

seth pushed himself up straighter, forcing a grin that didn’t quite mask the tension in his jaw. "you didn’t have to do that."

"of course i did" bron said easily, dropping onto the armchair across from him. "wouldn’t be where i am if you hadn’t taken the time to push me back at the pc. all those extra drills, all that advice, i wouldn’t be half the wrestler i am without it."

you saw the flicker in seth’s eyes, pride, yes, but also something heavier. he leaned back, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. "you did the work. i just yelled at you a lot."

bron laughed, the sound bright, genuine. "you did more than that, and you know it." he leaned forward, animated, his hands gesturing as he launched into a story about his latest match, the roar of the crowd, the rush of hitting his finisher, the sheer thrill of standing in the spotlight at the top of his game. his voice brimmed with excitement, the kind of high that used to course through seth’s veins.

and seth smiled, nodded at the right moments, even threw in a teasing jab or two. but from your spot on the couch beside him, you saw the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his hand tightened around the edge of the cushion every time bron described a victory, a crowd reaction, the future wide open in front of him.

when bron finally stood to leave, he clapped seth on the shoulder. "you’re the reason i’m here. don’t forget that. and hey, once you’re ready, come by a show. i’d be proud to have you in the crowd."

seth’s smile was thin, but steady. "yeah. maybe."

after the door closed and bron’s footsteps faded down the walkway, silence settled back over the house. seth stayed frozen on the couch, staring at the blank tv screen.

"he meant well" you said softly.

"i know" seth replied. his voice was flat, his eyes distant. "that’s what makes it worse."

he rose abruptly, the limp in his step pronounced as he moved toward the kitchen. you stayed where you were, the echo of bron’s laughter still lingering in the air, and the hollow weight of seth’s grief pressing down heavier than ever.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the weeks crawled by, each one blurring into the next. seth moved like a man caught between rooms, never quite settling anywhere. some days he buried himself in the gym, training upper body until his muscles trembled. others he drifted through the house like a ghost, half-watching old matches, half-listening to the commentary he used to own.

you tried to give him space, tried to be gentle, but the weight of his restlessness seeped into everything, the silence over breakfast, the way he stared too long out the window, the tightness in his smile when fans online tagged him in bron’s latest highlight reel.

that evening, you found him in the living room again, slouched on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees. the glow of the screen painted his face as he scrolled through clips of a pay per view. the sound of the crowd poured from the speakers, deafening even at low volume.

"you’re watching again?" you asked softly, leaning against the doorway.

he didn’t look up. "just keeping up."

you crossed the room, careful, like stepping into a storm. "keeping up, or torturing yourself?"

his jaw flexed. he slammed the laptop shut harder than necessary. "don’t start."

"i'm not starting" you said, sitting down across from him. "i'm worried. you’re hurting yourself every time you watch this stuff, seth. you can’t heal if you keep living in the ring."

"i am the ring" he snapped, the words spilling out sharp and bitter. "without it, i’m nothing."

the air went still, the weight of his words hanging between you. your heart clenched, but you forced your voice steady. "that’s not true. you’re still you, with or without"

"don’t." his eyes blazed as he stood, pacing despite the limp. "don’t give me the whole ‘you’re more than wrestling’ speech again. you don’t get it. you’ve never had everything you are ripped away in one night."

you rose slowly, the hurt creeping past your ribs. "i get it more than you think. because i’ve watched you disappear since that night. you’re here, but you’re not here. and it feels like i'm losing you, seth, and i don’t know how to bring you back."

he froze, back to you, his shoulders tense. for a moment you thought he might soften, that he might turn around and finally let you in. Instead, his voice dropped low and cold.

"maybe you can’t. maybe you’re just here because you pity me."

the words sliced through you clean and merciless. you stared at him, the sting settling in your chest, and realized there was nothing you could say in this moment that wouldn’t make it worse.

so you grabbed your jacket from the chair and headed for the door. "i’ll give you space."

he didn’t stop you. didn’t turn. just stood there, breathing hard in the silence you left behind.

outside, the night was cool and quiet. and for the first time, you wondered if loving him through this storm would be enough or if he would let you love him at all.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you went about your morning routine quietly, making coffee, scrolling through your phone, trying not to notice the empty space on the other side of the bed when you woke. seth hadn’t slept beside you. You found him slumped on the couch instead, the tv still glowing faintly from the night before.

he didn’t say much as the hours dragged on. just grunts, half-nods, the occasional shuffle from room to room. you gave him the space you promised, even though it ached, each step of distance between you felt like another splinter driven into your chest.

it wasn’t until late evening, after the sky had darkened and the house had fallen quiet, that he finally came to find you. you were curled up in the bedroom, book forgotten in your lap, when you heard the hesitant knock on the doorframe.

"hey" he said softly, his voice rough from disuse.

you looked up. he lingered there, hair mussed, dark circles under his eyes, his posture sagging under the weight of something heavier than just a bad knee.

"can i?" he gestured toward the bed.

you nodded, moving your book aside. he crossed the room slowly, lowering himself onto the mattress with a stiffness that had nothing to do with his injury. for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

then, quietly, he said, "i’m sorry."

you exhaled, the tension in your chest loosening, though the hurt lingered. "for last night?"

"for all of it." he rubbed a hand over his face, sighing hard. "for snapping at you. for acting like you don’t understand. for making you feel like you’re here out of pity." his voice cracked on the word. "god, that was the last thing i wanted to say to you."

your throat tightened. "then why did you?"

he dropped his hand, finally meeting your eyes. and in them, you saw not anger but fear, raw, bone-deep fear.

"because i don’t know who i am anymore" he admitted, the words tumbling out like they’d been locked in his chest too long. "every day i wake up, and i’m not in the gym, not on the road, not in the ring. i feel empty. and i’m terrified that if i don’t have wrestling, i don’t have anything. that i’m nobody without it."

your heart ached, but you reached for him, curling your fingers over his hand where it rested on the sheets. "you’re not nobody, seth. you’re the man i fell in love with. the man who pushes himself, who believes in people even when they don’t believe in themselves. you’re still that man. with or without wrestling."

his jaw trembled. He turned his hand, threading his fingers through yours, gripping tight like he was anchoring himself to you. "what if i can’t believe that? what if i don’t know how?"

you squeezed his hand back, steady, sure. "then i’ll believe it enough for both of us. until you’re ready to see it again."

that broke something in him. his eyes brimmed, his breath shuddering as he bowed his head into your shoulder. you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as he shook, as all the grief and fear and self-loathing spilled out in the quiet of your room.

for the first time in weeks, he let himself unravel completely. and for the first time in weeks, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could start to put him back together again.

the storm between you had broken, leaving only the quiet in its wake. seth still clung to you on the bed, his breath ragged against your shoulder, his body heavy with exhaustion after letting go of so much weight he’d been carrying.

you smoothed your fingers through his hair, feeling the damp strands cling to your skin. "you’re not lost to me" you whispered. "not ever."

he lifted his head slowly, his eyes red-rimmed but soft in a way you hadn’t seen for weeks. "i don’t deserve you."

"stop" you said gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. "you deserve to feel loved. you deserve to feel wanted."

his gaze flickered, uncertain, as though he couldn’t quite believe you. so you took his hand, lacing your fingers together, and tugged him toward the bathroom. He followed without protest, too tired to argue, too raw to hide.

the shower filled with steam, the hiss of water rising as you helped him step inside. he leaned against the tiled wall, his movements careful, still favoring his knee. you joined him, your body pressing close to his beneath the cascade of warmth.

for a moment he stood still, his eyes closed, as though letting the water wash away what the past few weeks had carved into him. you slid your arms around his torso, cheek resting against his wet chest.

"you’re still mine" you murmured against his skin. "not seth rollins. not the man in the spotlight. just you. and that’s all i’ve ever needed."

his arms came around you then, pulling you tight, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. his breath trembled as though your words had cracked something open inside him again, but this time, it wasn’t grief. it was relief.

you tilted your head back, kissed the hollow of his throat, whispered softer truths against his ear. "you’re enough. you’re loved. you’re not alone.”

he shuddered, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him like he was afraid you’d slip away. "god" he whispered hoarsely, “how did i get this lucky?"

you smiled faintly, lifting his face so his eyes met yours through the haze of steam. "because you let me love you. that’s all."

and in that moment, with your bodies pressed together, the water cascading around you, seth finally believed, even if just for tonight, that maybe his life wasn’t ending. maybe it was only changing.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

later that night, the two of you curled up in bed, the sheets warm and the room quiet save for the faint patter of rain against the windows. Seth lay on his side, facing you, his damp hair falling across his forehead in soft waves. his eyes were heavy-lidded, calmer now, though shadows still lingered behind them.

you traced your finger along his jaw, slow and unhurried, just to feel the steady rhythm of his breath. he caught your hand halfway and pressed a kiss to your palm, his lips lingering like he didn’t want to let go.

"feels like the first time i’ve breathed in weeks" he murmured.

"feels like the first time i’ve breathed in weeks"

you smiled faintly, brushing his cheek. "that’s the point. you don’t always have to fight to survive, seth. sometimes you just let yourself be."

he exhaled, closing his eyes for a beat, before opening them again to study you. "and if i don’t know how to ‘be’ without the ring?"

you hesitated, then spoke carefully, the thought that had been tugging at you for days finally finding its voice. "maybe you don’t have to give it up completely. not in the way you think."

his brows furrowed. "what do you mean?"

"you love wrestling. it’s in your blood. but just because you can’t wrestle anymore doesn’t mean you can’t still be part of it. share it. teach it." you paused, squeezing his hand. "what if we opened a gym? something that’s ours. a place for the next generation to learn. from you."

seth blinked at you, the weight of your words settling over him. for a long moment he said nothing, only stared at the ceiling as if picturing it, imagining the space, the mats, the sound of training echoing against walls that belonged to him.

finally, he shook his head, though his grip on your hand tightened. "i don’t know if i'm ready."

"that’s okay" you said softly. "we don’t have to decide tonight. i want you to know there are still doors open for you. for us. life doesn’t end here."

his eyes softened, and he leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead. "you really think we could do it?"

you smiled into the dark. "yeah. i do."

for the first time in weeks, you fell asleep beside him not weighed down by fear or grief, but with the fragile beginnings of something else blooming quietly between you: hope.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

a month later, you finally got him there.

it hadn’t been easy. every time you’d brought up the gym, seth had dodged the subject, sometimes with a half-smile, sometimes with silence. you didn’t push, not when he was still piecing himself together, but you didn’t let it go either. little reminders, small mentions, a gentle someday tucked into quiet moments.

and now, here you were, unlocking the door to a dusty warehouse on the edge of town, your hand firm around his as you tugged him inside.

the air was cool and musty, carrying the scent of concrete and old wood. the space stretched wide and open, sunlight spilling through high windows and catching on floating motes of dust. it wasn’t glamorous, not yet. just four walls, a roof, and possibility.

seth stood just past the threshold, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed. "this place looks like it hasn’t seen life since the ’90s."

you grinned, walking ahead and turning in a slow circle. "exactly. which means it’s a blank canvas. picture it, mats here, a ring in the middle, a wall of mirrors there. and maybe an office in the back for paperwork. it could be ours, seth."

he followed you further in, his boots echoing against the concrete. his eyes scanned the room with cautious curiosity, but you saw the flicker there, the faint spark of imagination, of what could be.

you stopped near the center of the floor and extended your hand. "come here."

he hesitated, then stepped closer, slipping his hand into yours. you guided him into the middle of the open space, where the light was brightest.

"close your eyes" you said.

he gave you a wary look, but did as you asked.

"now" you whispered, "imagine the sounds. the thud of boots on canvas. the slap of bodies hitting the mat. kids laughing, learning, failing, getting back up. your voice, teaching them. believing in them the way you always have."

you squeezed his hand. "you can still be part of this world. just in a different way.”

his chest rose and fell slowly, his face softening as though the weight of the image pressed against him. when he opened his eyes, there was something different in them, not certainty, not yet, but the glimmer of hope you’d been waiting for.

"you really see it, don’t you?" he asked quietly.

"i do" you said. "and i think you do too."

seth looked around again, this time longer, deeper. he let out a slow breath, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "maybe this place isn’t so bad."

it wasn’t a yes. but it wasn’t a no, either. and for the first time, you felt like the future was finally shifting beneath your feet.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the warehouse didn’t transform overnight.

it started small, a broom in your hands, a mop in his, the two of you working side by side as you cleared years of dust and grime from the corners. seth grumbled the whole time, teasing that you’d tricked him into manual labour. but there was a lightness to his voice that hadn’t been there in months.

by the second week, you had paint cans lined up against the far wall. seth stared at the samples you’d picked, arms crossed, brows knit in exaggerated seriousness.

"you want to paint a wrestling gym" he lifted a swatch of pale blue between two fingers like it offended him. "this color?"

you rolled your eyes. "it’s not just a gym. it’s ours. and pale blue feels welcoming."

"it feels like a dentist’s office" he countered, holding up a deep red instead. "now this says power."

"or murder scene" you shot back.

he smirked, leaning in. "what, afraid of a little intensity?"

"afraid of scaring the children" you said dryly, snatching the swatch from his hand.

the argument spiraled into laughter, both of you ending up with streaks of paint on your arms, your clothes, and, at one point, seth’s beard, courtesy of your quick brush strike. he chased you across the room with a roller until you squealed and ducked behind a ladder.

later, when the laughter subsided and the walls slowly shifted from dingy beige to something brighter, you caught him leaning against the ladder, watching you. his hair was tied back messily, his shirt stained with color, but the way his eyes lingered on you made your chest ache.

"what?" you asked, smiling despite yourself.

he shrugged, that rare boyish grin tugging at his lips. "just thinking, this feels good. like i haven’t felt in a long time."

you set your brush down, stepping close until your paint-smeared hands rested against his chest. "that’s because we’re building something new. together."

he bent his forehead to yours, his voice low, intimate. "i don’t know what i did to deserve you."

"painted a wall with me" you teased softly, before kissing him, the taste of sweat and laughter between you.

the days blurred into weeks, borrowed trucks carrying in equipment, the clang of metal as racks were assembled, the echo of your combined voices singing along badly to the radio while you worked. there were arguments, sure, over mat placement, over the name, over whether the office really needed a couch. but each disagreement ended the same way: a laugh, a kiss, a reminder that you were in this chaos together.

and slowly, the warehouse shed its past life and began to look like something else entirely: a future neither of you had thought possible.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it was late, well past midnight, when you finally convinced seth to stop tinkering. the gym was nearly finished, mats laid, bags hung, the ring assembled in the centre like a crown jewel. he’d been pacing around it for hours, checking bolts, tugging on ropes, running his hand over the apron like he needed to reassure himself it was real.

"come on" you coaxed from the doorway, your arms folded. "it’ll still be here tomorrow."

he glanced back at you, hair falling loose around his face, and for a moment you thought he’d argue. Instead, he let out a long sigh, climbed through the ropes, and crossed the empty floor toward you. his limp was still there, a reminder of everything that had led him here, but it seemed lighter tonight.

the two of you ended up on the office couch, the one you’d insisted on and he’d grumbled about, but now claimed as his throne after long workdays. you curled against his chest, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders, the scent of paint and sweat still clinging to both of you.

for a while, you sat in silence, listening to the distant hum of the city outside. then he shifted, pressing his lips into your hair.

"you know" his voice was low, thoughtful. "i didn’t think i’d ever feel this again."

you tilted your head, looking up at him. "feel what?"

he glanced down, his eyes soft in the dim light. "like i belong somewhere. like i have purpose. for a while, i thought i’d lost everything that made me... me." he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "but building this with you? it feels like i've got a second chance. and i couldn’t have done any of it without you."

your chest tightened, warmth spilling through you at the vulnerability in his tone. you reached up, cupping his jaw gently. "you don’t have to do anything without me. that’s the point."

he smiled then, a real smile, not the half-hearted one he’d been wearing for months. "guess i’m finally starting to believe that."

you kissed him softly, lingering, and when you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. "i love you" he whispered. "more than i ever thought i could love anything after wrestling. and that’s saying something."

you laughed quietly, your thumb brushing across his cheek. "i love you too. always."

the gym stood silent around you, the future waiting just outside those doors. but in that moment, it wasn’t about what came next. it was about the quiet between you, the kind of peace seth hadn’t known he was capable of finding again.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the morning of the soft opening, you found seth already at the gym.

you’d woken to an empty bed, sunlight spilling across the sheets, and you knew before you even checked your phone where he’d gone. by the time you arrived, he was standing in the middle of the ring, leaning on the ropes with his arms folded, his head bowed as though he was listening to some echo only he could hear.

you climbed up onto the apron quietly. "you okay?"

he looked up, and to your surprise, there was no tension in his eyes. just a calm, steady glow. "yeah" he said, his voice low but sure. "just taking it in."

before you could reply, the front door creaked open. a small group shuffled inside, a handful of wide-eyed kids with gym bags slung over their shoulders, two nervous-looking teens, and one older guy who looked like he’d been waiting his whole life for a second chance.

their chatter echoed in the big space, their gazes sweeping over the equipment, the mats, the ring. the ring especially.

seth’s posture straightened. you could see the nerves flicker through him, the old performer’s instinct, the fear of judgment, but when the first kid waved shyly, he smiled. a real, easy smile.

"morning" seth called, hopping down from the ring with a surprising grace. "welcome to rollin stone"

you watched him step into his role seamlessly, greeting each person, shaking hands, crouching to meet a kid’s eye level, laughing when one of the teens asked if they’d ever seen him wrestle on tv. he didn’t shy away, didn’t flinch at the reminder of what he’d lost. instead, he leaned into it, telling them about long nights on the road, about lessons learned the hard way, about resilience.

at one point, you caught him glancing over at you. his eyes met yours across the gym floor, and you saw it, the spark you’d missed, alive again, but different this time. softer. rooted not in the roar of a crowd but in the quiet pride of giving something back.

later, when the trainees were warming up and laughter filled the air, seth came to stand beside you. his hand slipped into yours, fingers interlacing like they always belonged there.

"looks like it’s really happening" you said, watching the kids stretch awkwardly on the mats.

"yeah." his voice was quiet, full. he pressed a kiss to your temple. "and it’s because of you. you didn’t let me give up."

you leaned into him, your heart swelling as you watched the little community take shape around you both. for the first time, the future didn’t feel scary. it felt wide open.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

rollin stone felt alive in a way you hadn’t dared imagine months ago.

the mats were scuffed now from weeks of drills, the walls carried faint handprints of chalk and sweat, and the once-echoing warehouse thrummed with energy every evening. seth had found a rhythm as a coach, pacing the floor, correcting stances, clapping loudly when someone nailed a move, crouching beside trainees with the same fire in his eyes he used to bring to the ring.

watching him like this made your chest ache in the best way. he was still seth rollins, just different. softer around the edges, steadier, but still carrying that unshakable belief in people.

at home, things were simpler too. nights ended with tangled limbs on the couch, seth half-asleep with his head in your lap while you absentmindedly stroked his hair. mornings began with coffee mugs balanced on paperwork for the gym, the two of you arguing gently over scheduling and finances before dissolving into laughter. it was ordinary, imperfect, and more precious for it.

one evening, as the last of the trainees trickled out, the gym door swung open again. you glanced up from the desk and froze when bron breakker’s familiar frame filled the doorway.

"hope i’m not too late to the party" he said, his grin easy as ever.

seth turned from the ring, sweat dampening his shirt, and blinked in surprise. "bron?"

bron strode inside, duffel slung over his shoulder. "heard about rollin stone. figured I’d come check it out. maybe run the ropes a little, if you’ve got room for me."

for a moment, you held your breath, unsure how seth would take it. the last time bron had walked through your door, seth had nearly drowned in his own resentment.

but this time was different.

seth’s lips curled into a grin, genuine, warm, proud. he stepped forward and clasped bron’s hand, pulling him into a quick hug. "you’re always welcome here. hell, i should be thanking you, these kids won’t believe half my stories until they hear ’em from you."

bron laughed, setting his bag down. "then let’s give ’em a show."

soon, the two of them were in the ring, bron demonstrating moves while seth barked playful corrections, the students gathering around in awe. seth moved carefully, never pushing his knee too far, but his voice carried that old fire, the mentor, the leader, the man who refused to let the next generation fail.

you leaned against the ropes, watching as bron hit a flawless suplex and seth clapped, grinning wide. your heart swelled at the sight, not with jealousy, not with the ache of what had been lost, but with pride. He’d found his place.

and later, when the gym was quiet again and you walked home hand in hand, seth glanced at you, his smile soft in the streetlight glow.

"you were right" he said simply. "about everything. i thought my story ended the night i retired. turns out" he squeezed your hand, eyes shining. "it was just a new chapter. and i couldn’t have written it without you."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the house smelled like garlic and herbs long before the first knock came at the door. you’d insisted on cooking, though seth had tried to sneak in with his chef skills, which mostly amounted to hovering near the stove and stealing tastes whenever you turned your back.

"babe" he said as he licked sauce off his finger, grinning when you swatted at him with a spoon, "i'm just making sure it’s not poisoned."

"you’ll be poisoned if you touch it again" you warned, though your smile gave you away.

by the time the trainees started arriving, the kitchen was warm and loud, bowls and platters covering every inch of counter space. seth greeted each of them like family, ushering them in with easy laughter, teasing one about their footwork, clapping another on the back with pride.

and then bron appeared, ducking his head through the doorway with a sheepish grin and a six-pack of craft beer in hand. "didn’t want to show up empty-handed."

seth barked a laugh, pulling him into a hug. "you’re family now. you don’t have to bring anything but your appetite."

soon, the dining table was full, plates passed from hand to hand, glasses clinking, conversations overlapping. one of the younger trainees told a wild story about slipping on the mats their first day, and the table erupted with laughter. another shyly asked bron about his biggest match so far, and he launched into the tale with his trademark enthusiasm, complete with sound effects that had everyone nearly choking on their food.

through it all, seth sat at the head of the table, his face glowing in the warm light. he was in his element, not as the architect, not as the monday night messiah, but as something simpler, truer. a mentor. a leader. a man surrounded by people who looked at him with admiration and affection.

at one point, he leaned over, his hand brushing yours beneath the table. when you turned to him, he didn’t say anything, just smiled at you, soft and grateful, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

the noise swelled around you, laughter, clinking silverware, the hum of voices, but in that small touch, you felt it. the fullness of what you’d built together. the life neither of you had expected, but both of you needed.

later, when the dishes were stacked and the trainees spilled onto the porch to swap more stories, seth pulled you close, tucking you against his chest.

"this" he murmured into your hair. "this is everything i ever wanted. i just didn’t know it until now."

you smiled, wrapping your arms around him as the sound of your little found family carried through the night. "then it’s a good thing you’ve got it, isn’t it?"

he kissed your forehead, his voice a whisper only for you. "because of you."

the night wound down slowly, laughter fading into yawns, the last of the dishes clinking into the sink. the trainees trickled out one by one, calling goodbyes and thanks as they disappeared into the cool evening air. you lingered on the porch with one of the youngest students, making sure they’d text when they got home safe.

inside, seth and bron stayed behind to clear the empty bottles from the table. the room was quieter now, the chaos of dinner replaced by a comfortable calm. bron stacked a few plates, glancing over at seth with a grin.

"you’ve built something real here, man" bron said, his voice easy. "the gym, the kids, the whole vibe tonight. they look at you like you’re bigger than life."

seth huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he set bottles in the recycling bin. "bigger than life, huh? feels more like i'm just holding everything together with duct tape and dumb luck."

"maybe" bron said, leaning against the counter. "but you’re doing it. you’re giving them something to believe in. hell, you gave me something to believe in back then."

seth’s smile softened, his eyes distant for a beat. then he set down the last plate, wiped his hands on a dish towel, and reached into his pocket. "there’s one more thing i’ve been building toward."

bron raised a brow as seth pulled out a small velvet box, worn from being handled too often. he opened it with care, and the kitchen light caught the simple but stunning ring nestled inside.

bron blinked, then let out a low whistle. "damn, man. that’s beautiful."

seth stared at the ring, his thumb brushing lightly over the band. His voice dropped, softer than bron had ever heard it. "she’s everything. you know? i thought losing wrestling meant i lost myself. but she never gave up on me. she built me back up piece by piece. this gym, this life, none of it would exist without her."

bron nodded slowly, the grin on his face turning more serious. "then don’t wait too long. she deserves to hear that every day."

seth’s lips curved into a quiet smile, his eyes still fixed on the ring. "yeah. she does."

he closed the box gently, slipping it back into his pocket just as you stepped inside, brushing the cool night air from your arms. "everything good in here?" you asked, glancing between them.

"yeah" bron said easily, clapping Seth on the shoulder. "everything’s perfect."

seth met your eyes then, and though he didn’t say a word, there was a secret warmth there, a promise only you and he would share soon enough.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the days at rollin stone fell into their own kind of rhythm, messy, loud, exhausting, and somehow perfect.

mornings began with the two of you at the kitchen table, coffee mugs balanced precariously on piles of paperwork. you had your laptop open, squinting at spreadsheets and emails, while seth scribbled out training schedules on a notepad that was already half-covered in doodles of rings, ladders, and the occasional stick-figure suplex.

"you realize i'm the one keeping this place afloat, right?" you teased one morning, pushing your glasses higher on your nose as you scrolled.

seth leaned back in his chair, smirking. "oh, please. i’m the talent. you’re just my overworked, underpaid manager."

"overworked, yes. underpaid, absolutely."

he laughed and reached across the table, tugging your hand away from the keyboard to press a kiss to your knuckles. "worth every penny i don’t pay you."

by midday, the gym came alive. the slam of bodies hitting the mat echoed through the open space, mixed with grunts, laughter, and seth’s voice cutting clear above it all. he was a natural in this role, barking corrections with a sharp clap of his hands, crouching beside a trainee to adjust their footing, pacing the ropes like he was born to this.

"eyes up! keep your center tight! don’t think, just move!"

you watched from the office doorway, pride blooming in your chest as he guided a nervous beginner through a sequence. the old seth, the one who burned bright under arena lights, was still there, but here, he was gentler, steadier. every success his trainees had felt like his own.

still, he couldn’t resist finding you in the chaos. once, while the class was running drills, he jogged over, sweat dampening his shirt, his hair sticking to his forehead. he leaned down to steal a quick kiss before you could protest.

"seth!" you hissed, swatting at him. "you’re supposed to be working."

"i am working" he said with a wicked grin. "motivating the boss."

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away.

the days ended the same way they began, together. sometimes you lingered at the gym until the last trainee left, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the apron while seth recapped the day like it was a highlight reel. other nights, you collapsed on the couch at home, takeout cartons spread across the coffee table, his head heavy in your lap as you absentmindedly stroked his hair while the tv murmured in the background.

it wasn’t glamorous, and it wasn’t the road life you both once knew, but it was yours.

and more than once, as you drifted toward sleep with seth’s hand tangled with yours, you thought: this was the kind of happily ever after no fairytale had ever prepared you for.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it was rare for seth to be late leaving the gym. he liked to be the last one out, lights off, mats wiped down, door locked with a firm tug to make sure it was secure. so when he slipped out earlier than usual one evening, handing bron the keys with a quick, "cover for me, yeah?" it raised a few eyebrows.

bron just smirked knowingly. "yeah, i got you. go do your thing."

"don’t say it like that" seth muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as if he could hide from the weight inside one of them. "it’s nothing."

but it wasn’t nothing.

the small box felt like it burned a hole against his thigh as he drove downtown, headlights streaking across his windshield. he parked a block away from the jeweller’s, a little shop with warm lights glowing against the september dusk and sat for a long moment with the engine off, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

he’d wrestled in front of tens of thousands, flown off ladders, taken bumps that rattled his bones for weeks. none of that had made his heart hammer quite like this.

finally, he exhaled hard and pushed himself out of the car.

inside, the jeweller greeted him with a polite smile. "mr. lopez. Rrght on time.”

seth gave a quick nod, pulling the box from his pocket and setting it gently on the counter. "just wanted to make sure it’s perfect. for her."

the jeweller opened the box, inspecting the ring before sliding it onto a velvet tray. under the soft lights, the simple band gleamed, the stone catching fire like it was alive. seth’s chest tightened.

"she’s the kind of person who makes everything brighter just by being in the room" he found himself saying, voice rough. "i don’t want flashy. i just want something that feels like her. something real."

the jeweller adjusted the setting slightly, nodding. "it already does. but let’s make it fit just right."

while the ring was resized, seth wandered the shop restlessly, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. he thought about you at home, probably curled up with your laptop, muttering about spreadsheets. he thought about the way you looked when you laughed so hard your eyes watered, or when you fell asleep with your head on his chest, hand curled in his shirt like you were afraid he’d slip away.

by the time he left the shop, the box felt heavier than before. precious. terrifying.

back in the car, he opened it one last time, staring at the ring in the glow of the streetlights. his fingers trembled as he snapped the lid shut.

"soon" he whispered to himself, slipping it back into his pocket. "just gotta find the right moment."

and for the first time in months, he felt the same kind of nerves he used to feel right before his music hit and the curtain parted. only this time, it wasn’t about a match. it was about forever.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

by the time seth made it home, the sun had dipped low, the house glowing faintly in the warm lamplight you’d left on. you were sprawled on the couch with your laptop balanced on your knees, scrolling through emails with a furrowed brow.

"you’re late" you called without looking up. "everything okay at the gym?"

"yeah" seth said too quickly, hanging his keys by the door. his voice carried that slight pitch you knew better than anyone, the one he used when he was definitely hiding something.

you glanced up, narrowing your eyes. his hoodie was zipped up to his neck, hands jammed into the front pocket like he was smuggling contraband.

suspicious.

he crossed the room, leaned down, and kissed your temple before dropping onto the couch beside you. "long day" he said, stretching his legs out, his arm falling over your shoulders a little too casually.

"mhm" you murmured, watching him out of the corner of your eye. "funny. you look more nervous than tired."

seth let out a laugh that sounded like it had been pried out of him. "nervous? me? please nothing scares me."

"except maybe balancing the budget for rollin stone" you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

that got a real laugh out of him, and he pulled you closer, burying his face against your hair. "fair point."

still, you didn’t miss the way he checked his pocket twice when he shifted, or how he seemed distracted, his thumb tapping against his thigh.

you closed your laptop and turned to him, straddling his lap so you could look him in the eye. "seriously, what’s going on with you? you’ve been weird for days."

for a split second, panic flickered across his face. then he recovered with a grin, hands settling firmly on your hips. "weird? babe, this" he gestured between you, smirking "isn’t weird. this is premium couple time."

you rolled your eyes, but his arms around you softened the suspicion. "you’re more stressed than when you were champ" you said quietly, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

his smile faltered, and something raw flickered in his gaze. he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, thumb tracing lightly over your skin. "i know. and i don’t deserve you for it.”

the words hit with unexpected weight, and before you could press further, he kissed you, slow, deep, the kind that melted every question off your tongue.

later, after you’d both showered and crawled into bed, he lay beside you in the dark, your head resting on his chest. his fingers toyed absently with yours, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

"i don’t know what i’d do without you" he whispered, so soft you almost thought you dreamed it.

you tilted your head up, pressing a sleepy kiss to his jaw. "good thing you’ll never have to find out."

he closed his eyes, clutching you tighter, the ring box hidden away in his bag across the room. and in the quiet, seth thought to himself that he’d never been more terrified, or more certain about anything in his life.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the gym was quiet on a rare afternoon off, the mats spotless, the ring ropes taut and gleaming under the overhead lights. seth leaned against the ropes, towel slung around his neck, his hair falling loose as he watched you pace around the apron.

"come on" he coaxed with a grin. "it’ll be fun. just a little spar. i promise, no crazy flips, no stomps, no" he waved his hand vaguely "suplex city disasters."

you crossed your arms, arching a brow. "seth, i’m not a wrestler. i’ll trip over my own feet."

"exactly" he teased, climbing through the ropes. "which makes it a fair fight for me these days."

you shot him a look, but his smile was so bright, so boyish, you couldn’t resist. with a dramatic sigh, you slipped off your shoes and crawled under the bottom rope. the canvas felt strange under your socks, springy and solid at the same time.

"alright, coach" you said, planting your hands on your hips. "show me what you’ve got."

he moved toward you slowly, deliberately exaggerated like a cartoon villain, hands up in mock menace. you laughed, shoving his chest, and he stumbled back with a theatrical groan, clutching at his heart.

"unbelievable!" he cried. "taken down in my own house!"

you tried to mimic the stance you’d seen a hundred times, knees bent, arms raised but seth just smirked. "cute. but maybe a little less ballet, a little more brawl."

you lunged at him, and he let you push him into the ropes, his laughter spilling into the quiet gym. In one smooth motion, he reversed the hold, looping an arm gently around your waist and spinning you back into the center. he moved carefully, always mindful of your balance, of his knee, of the line between playful and too much.

you wriggled against him, laughing breathlessly. "cheater! you’re not supposed to be good at this!"

"not my fault you’re a natural" he shot back, pinning your wrists to the mat as you both tumbled down in a heap. he hovered above you, breathing hard, his hair brushing against your face as he grinned.

and then, just like that, his smile faltered.

because looking at you there, cheeks flushed from laughter, eyes bright and trusting beneath him, seth realized something hit harder than any bump ever could. this, the laughter, the play, the way you never let him drown in what he’d lost, this was his life now. his future.

he pressed his forehead to yours, still catching his breath. "you have no idea what you mean to me."

you softened, your hands slipping free to cradle his face. "i think i do" you whispered.

but seth knew. he knew with absolute clarity, in the middle of that quiet gym, that he was ready. 100 percent ready. to stop waiting. to give you the ring tucked away in his bag. to ask you to stay by his side not just in love, but in every moment to come.

he kissed you then, soft, reverent, sealing a silent promise only he understood.

soon.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

seth had been carrying the ring around for weeks. too long.

it lived tucked in the bottom of his gym bag, wrapped carefully in an old wrist tape roll to keep it hidden. he checked on it constantly, between classes, before bed, even once in the middle of the night when you stirred and asked if he was okay. he’d muttered something about needing water, heart hammering as he slipped back under the covers.

he wanted the moment to be right. he’d thought about dinners out, about surprising you at home with candles and music, even about flying somewhere special. but none of it fit. none of it felt you.

and then you’d agreed, without hesitation, to spar with him. just to make him smile. just to meet him where he was, even in a ring that was never supposed to be yours.

that was when it clicked.

the proposal had to be here. in the gym you built together, the place where you’d turned heartbreak into something new. In the ring that wasn’t about his career anymore, but about your life, both of your lives, moving forward.

that night, after the trainees had gone home, seth lingered. he walked the ring in slow circles, running his hand over the ropes, imagining how it would look under softer light.

"you really gonna do it?" bron’s voice broke the silence as he appeared from the office doorway, leaning against the frame.

seth chuckled low, raking a hand through his hair. "yeah. i think i am."

bron crossed the floor, smirking as he clapped seth on the back. "took you long enough."

"i just" seth hesitated, staring down at the canvas. "she deserves more than some half-assed speech and me fumbling around with a ring. i want it to be" he trailed off, struggling for the words.

"real?" bron supplied.

seth’s mouth tugged into a smile. "yeah. real."

together, they dug through the storage room for strings of lights leftover from a fundraiser, draping them along the posts. bron fetched a couple of candles from his truck, setting them near the steps. slowly, the gym transformed. the harsh fluorescents gave way to a warm glow, shadows stretching soft across the mat.

seth climbed into the ring, standing dead center. he could already see it, you stepping through the ropes, him trying not to cry before he even got the words out. his hand brushed against his pocket, feeling the outline of the box.

"looks good, man" bron said from the apron, watching him. "she’s gonna love it."

seth nodded, his throat tight. "i just can’t believe i get to do this. after everything, i didn’t think i’d have a future that looked this good."

bron grinned. "then don’t waste it. make it hers too."

seth laughed softly, shaking his head. "that’s the plan."

as bron left, locking up behind him, seth stayed in the ring a little longer, letting the silence wrap around him. he imagined your face when you saw it, your laugh, the way your hand would tremble when he slipped the ring onto your finger.

for the first time in a long time, seth didn’t feel nervous. he felt ready.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you frowned when your phone buzzed, seth’s name flashing across the screen.

"hey" you answered, tucking it between your ear and shoulder as you locked up the house. "everything okay? you’re at the gym late again."

his voice came back light, almost too casual. "yeah, uh bron left some gear. can you swing by? you’ve got the car tonight."

"bron can survive a night without his gym shorts" you teased, but you were already slipping on your shoes. "fine. but you owe me takeout tomorrow."

the gym looked strangely different when you pulled up, the windows glowing softer than usual, shadows flickering across the floor. You stepped inside cautiously, calling out, "seth?"

your breath caught.

the harsh overhead lights were off. instead, strings of warm bulbs wound around the ring posts, casting golden light across the canvas. a couple of candles burned near the steps, their soft glow pooling like stars against the dark. and standing in the centre of the ring was seth.

he looked nervous and sure all at once, dressed in simple sweats and a black tee, his hands resting on the top rope as he waited for you.

"what is all this?" you asked softly, your voice echoing in the quiet space.

"come here" he said, holding out a hand.

you climbed the steps slowly, your heart thudding in your chest. he helped you through the ropes, his palm warm against yours, and guided you to the middle of the ring.

for a moment, you just stood there, surrounded by light, staring at each other. then seth exhaled hard, like he’d been holding his breath for months.

"you know, i thought my story ended when i retired" he began, his voice low and unsteady. "i thought losing wrestling meant losing myself. but then you" he broke off, swallowing as his eyes searched yours. "you showed me i had more. that i could build something new. this gym, this family, this life, none of it exists without you."

your throat tightened as he reached into his pocket, pulling out the small velvet box you’d seen him fidget with but never asked about.

"i've carried this around for weeks" he admitted with a shaky laugh. "too scared to ask, too scared to get it wrong. but tonight, standing here with you, i know there’s no wrong way to do this."

he dropped to one knee, the box opening in his hand. the ring caught the soft light, gleaming like it had been waiting for this moment.

"will you marry me?" seth’s voice cracked, but he smiled through it, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "will you keep building this life with me? be with me at the end of every road?"

you couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up, half a sob, half a shout of joy. "of course i will."

the box tumbled to the mat as he slid the ring onto your trembling finger with clumsy hands, then rose to kiss you. it was messy, desperate, both of you laughing against each other’s mouths as you held tight, the glow of the lights wrapping you in warmth.

and for seth, it wasn’t just an ending. it was the truest beginning he’d ever known.

you were still kissing him when the sound of the back door creaked open. you pulled away, startled, but seth only grinned sheepishly, a guilty kind of smile.

"what was that?" you whispered, brows furrowed.

before he could answer, a loud cheer rang out, bouncing off the gym walls.

"about damn time!"

bron’s voice boomed first, and then the rest followed, the trainees filing in, clapping, hooting, and whistling like a crowd at wrestlemania. they carried pizza boxes, paper bags of takeout, even a sheet cake with uneven frosting that read congrats coach & (y/n)! in lopsided red letters.

you blinked in disbelief, clutching seth’s arm. "you planned this?"

seth’s cheeks flushed, but his grin stretched wide. "maybe i didn’t want it to be just us. not tonight. not after everything we’ve built here"

the ring was quickly surrounded by smiling faces. one of the younger trainees scrambled onto the apron and leaned over the ropes to hug you tight. "we’re so happy for you, coach!"

laughter filled the air. someone popped open a soda can that fizzed too much, and bron barked at them to clean it up while trying not to laugh himself.

before long, the whole gym smelled of pepperoni and garlic knots. music played low from someone’s bluetooth speaker, and everyone found a spot, on the mats, the benches, the office chairs dragged out into the main floor. It was chaotic, warm, and so perfectly imperfect.

at one point, bron pulled seth aside. they stood just out of earshot, but you caught the moment bron clapped a firm hand on seth’s shoulder, grinning like a proud kid brother. seth showed him the ring on your finger, and bron let out a whistle before saying something that made seth laugh, shaking his head in mock annoyance.

you stayed where you were, sitting cross-legged on the mat with a slice of pizza in hand, watching the people around you. these weren’t just trainees anymore. they were friends, family, the foundation of everything you and seth had poured yourselves into.

when seth finally came back to sit beside you, he didn’t say anything at first. he just laced his fingers through yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"this," he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your temple. "this is better than anything i ever dreamed about."

and as the laughter and chatter filled the gym, you believed him.

the party wound down slowly, like the last embers of a fire. empty pizza boxes stacked in the corner, half-finished sodas forgotten on the benches. the trainees lingered, laughing quietly as they slipped out one by one, offering hugs and handshakes before disappearing into the night.

bron was the last to leave, tossing his keys in the air with a grin. "don’t stay up too late, lovebirds. and don’t let him chicken out before the wedding" he teased, jerking a thumb toward seth.

"out" seth groaned, waving him off.

when the final door clicked shut, the gym was quiet again. the strings of lights still glowed around the ring, soft and golden, casting long shadows across the mats. you and seth sat side by side on the apron, legs swinging idly, your hand resting in his.

for a long while, neither of you spoke. you just leaned against him, his shoulder warm and solid against yours.

finally, seth broke the silence. "you know, i used to think the happiest moment of my life would be holding a championship. standing in the middle of that ring with a crowd screaming my name."

you tilted your head toward him, listening.

"but tonight" he looked down at your joined hands, the ring catching the light as he brushed his thumb over it. his smile was small, but steady. "tonight, i know i was wrong. the happiest moment is this. you. us. all of it."

your chest ached in that soft, overwhelming way it always did when he opened up like this. you pressed a kiss against his shoulder, whispering, "i’m glad you figured it out."

he laughed under his breath, kissing the top of your head. "took me long enough."

you stayed like that, quiet and content, the whole world narrowing to the glow of the lights and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

and just before you both slid off the apron to head home, seth whispered against your temple, voice low and certain: