Magnolia

WWE SmackDown - June 12th, 2026

WWE SmackDown - June 12th, 2026

Pair: Roman Reigns X Liv Morgan

Plot: On her birthday, Liv Morgan advances in the Queen of the Ring tournament in front of a roaring Paris crowd — but the one person she wants to see in the arena isn’t there. Roman calls before her match to tell her every flight to France was booked, and Liv tries to hide her disappointment behind a brave smile. Backstage, her friends celebrate her win, but Jimmy Uso catches the look in her eyes and hints that Paris is full of surprises. Liv rushes back to the hotel, expecting an empty room… and instead finds Roman waiting for her. Before he can say a word, she throws herself into his arms, overwhelmed that he came all this way for her. What follows is a night where the distance between them finally breaks — a birthday reunion in the city of love that neither of them will forget.

Hi guys, this one kinda took over my brain ngl. paris + liv morgan + birthday chaos?? yeah. also i had “Earned It” by The Weeknd on repeat the whole time, so if it feels a little intense… that’s why. hope you enjoy ✨

Liv was halfway through pulling her gear top over her head when she heard it — giggling.

Whispering.

Shuffling.

The unmistakable sound of women trying (and failing) to be sneaky.

She blinked.

“Uh… hello?”

The door burst open.

Roxanne.

Raquel.

Becky.

Sol.

Maxxine.

All crammed together, all grinning like they were about to commit a felony.

“Happy birthday, Liv!” they yelled in chaotic unison.

Liv’s jaw dropped.

On the counter:

A tiny pink cake with sparkles.

A handful of little wrapped gifts.

A card covered in glitter and questionable doodles.

Roxanne practically bounced. “We know you’ve got your match tonight, but we wanted to celebrate before you go out there and kill it!”

Raquel handed her a small bag. “Open mine first. It’s practical.”

It was socks. Very fluffy socks.

Liv laughed so hard she snorted.

Becky shoved a box into her hands next. “Mine’s not practical. It’s just cute. And don’t get used to me bein’ nice — I’m still gonna kick your arse out there.”

Liv grinned. “On my birthday?”

Becky smirked. “Especially on your birthday. Builds character.”

Sol gave her a friendship bracelet she braided herself.

Maxxine gave her a mini perfume.

Roxanne gave her a keychain shaped like a crown.

Liv’s eyes stung — the good kind.

“You guys… this is so sweet.”

Becky slung an arm around her. “Tonight’s your night, kid. Paris loves you. We love you. Now hurry up and eat cake so I can go beat you fair and square.”

Liv laughed, cheeks warm.

Then her phone buzzed.

She didn’t even have to look at the screen. Her heart already knew.

Roman.

She stepped away from the group, slipping into the quiet hallway.

“Hey,” she answered softly.

Roman’s voice came through low, warm, guilty — the kind of voice that always made her chest feel too small.

“Happy birthday, Liv.”

Her smile widened instantly.

“Thank you. I’m… I’m getting ready. The girls surprised me with cake.”

He hummed — that soft, approving sound he only ever made for her.

“I saw the card they posted. You look happy.”

“I am,” she whispered. “I’m excited. Nervous. But excited.”

There was a pause.

A heavy one.

Liv’s stomach tightened.

“Roman?”

He exhaled slowly.

“I’m not in Paris.”

Her heart dropped.

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t on the card tonight,” he continued, voice thick with frustration. “I tried to get a flight out anyway. Every seat was booked.”

Liv swallowed hard.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “Really. You don’t have to—”

“I wanted to be there.”

Her breath caught.

“I know,” she whispered.

“I’ll be watching your match,” he said. “Every second. You hear me?”

Liv nodded even though he couldn’t see it.

“Yeah. I hear you.”

Another pause.

Softer this time.

“Go win, birthday girl.”

Her chest warmed.

“I will.”

He hung up first.

Liv stood there for a moment, phone still in her hand, trying to breathe around the ache in her ribs.

She wanted him there.

She wanted him in the crowd.

She wanted him to see her shine.

But she pushed the feeling down and walked back into the locker room with a smile.

Tonight was still her night.

Even if he wasn’t here to see it.

The Queen of the Ring first‑round match was already chaos by the time Liv slid under the ropes. Paris was alive — loud, rowdy, chanting for her and Bliss every time either woman so much as breathed.

Alexa climbed onto the apron, lining up a cannonball to the outside. Liv barely had time to register it before she saw Becky charging in her peripheral vision. She moved — fast — and Becky’s baseball slide caught Liv instead.

The crowd gasped, then roared.

Cole’s voice echoed through the arena.

“Now Becky Lynch with a baseball slide!”

Corey chimed in.

“Bliss out of the way just in time!”

Alexa hit the cannonball on Becky instead, sending the Paris crowd into another wave of noise.

Cole kept going.

“Oh! Alexa Bliss cannonball to Lynch! And Chelsea Green now heading up to the top rope—Chelsea gonna fly!”

Chelsea did her dramatic “pledge your allegiance” pose before leaping, only to get slammed into the ring post by Becky.

The crowd booed loudly — Paris hated Chelsea tonight.

Cole laughed.

“How obnoxious would she be if she won Queen of the Ring? And—oh! Becky slams her into the ring post!”

Back in the ring, Liv sprinted toward the ropes, only for Chelsea to catch her with a stiff right hand.

Corey reacted instantly.

“Big right hand by Green! Rocks Liv Morgan!”

The crowd booed again — loudly — and Liv fed off it, firing back with a kick to Chelsea’s stomach.

Cole called it.

“Chelsea missed wild that time—Liv caught her with a kick to the midsection!”

Liv hooked Chelsea for the Three Amigos, and the Paris crowd exploded — they LOVED the Eddie tribute.

Corey couldn’t help himself.

“Look at this homage to potentially her uncle!”

Cole groaned.

“What are you talking about?”

Corey doubled down.

“I mean Liv Morgan, Dirty Dom—they’re in a relationship, Dom claims Eddie—”

Cole cut him off.

“Okay, I get it…”

Before Liv could finish the third suplex, Bliss and Chelsea grabbed her for a double suplex. Becky rushed in to help Liv counter, but it backfired — all three women got suplexed instead.

The crowd gasped again.

Liv and Becky leaned on the ropes, dazed. Bliss and Chelsea exchanged a look, then sprinted forward, hitting running knees to the backs of their necks.

Cole narrated.

“I guess this is an okay strategy… turn it into a one‑on‑one matchup!”

Chelsea shoved Becky into one corner while Bliss kicked Liv into another. The crowd booed Bliss for a second — then immediately cheered her again because Paris couldn’t decide who they loved more.

Cole tried to keep up.

“And—oh! Bliss now—”

Chelsea suddenly kicked Bliss in the face, dropping her. The crowd popped HUGE for that one.

Chelsea hit running knees to Liv and Becky once, then went for a second round — but Liv moved, sending Chelsea crashing into the corner. Liv hit an elbow, rolled out of Becky’s path, and elbowed both Becky and Chelsea again.

Paris roared for her.

Bliss recovered and unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks on Liv.

Corey shouted over the noise.

“A blitz of strikes from Bliss!”

Becky charged Bliss, going for the Manhandle Slam.

Cole called it.

“Now Bliss turns her attention to Lynch—looking for the Manhandle Slam—Bliss trying to get out of it!”

Becky tossed Bliss into the ropes and soaked in the Paris boos — she loved every second of it.

She didn’t see Chelsea on the top rope.

Cole yelled.

“Missile dropkick from Green to Lynch! Chelsea has looked great so far in this matchup!”

Bliss hooked Chelsea for a DDT.

Corey reacted.

“No doubt about it—as has Alexa Bliss! DDT!”

Then Bliss hit a blockbuster on Becky.

Corey again.

“Blockbuster by Bliss—but here comes Morgan!”

Liv went for Oblivion — Bliss blocked it.

Corey’s voice jumped.

“Uh oh!”

Bliss hit a Sister Abigail DDT, dragging Liv off the ropes.

Cole shouted.

“Sister Abigail! Drags Morgan back off the ropes—and Becky gonna save the matchup!”

Becky yanked Bliss into a Manhandle Slam. Chelsea dove in, hooking Becky for the Unprettier.

Cole was breathless.

“Cover by Becky—Chelsea Green’s turn to break things up! She’s got Lynch hooked for the Unprettier—cover by Green!”

Corey yelled.

“She’s gonna do it!”

But Liv twisted, rolled Chelsea up tight, and the crowd counted along.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Paris exploded.

Cole’s voice boomed.

“Morgan turns it into a pinning combination! Liv Morgan—happy birthday, Liv!”

Liv sat up, chest heaving, the crowd chanting her name so loudly it echoed in her bones.

She won.

She advanced.

She should’ve felt unstoppable.

But as she walked backstage, the cheers fading behind her, something in her chest felt strangely heavy.

Something was missing.

Someone.

The second Liv stepped through the curtain, the noise of Paris still ringing in her ears, the backstage area erupted.

Roxanne practically launched herself at her.

“SEMIFINALS, BABY!”

Raquel wrapped her in a bear hug next.

“You did it, birthday girl!”

Becky, still catching her breath from the match, pointed at her with a smirk.

“Alright, alright — you got me tonight. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Liv laughed, breathless, flushed, adrenaline still buzzing under her skin. She shifted the Women’s World Championship on her shoulder — she’d carried it to the ring, and now it felt heavier, more real, more hers than ever.

Everyone was smiling.

Everyone was cheering.

Everyone was proud.

And Liv smiled back — she really did — but something in her chest tugged downward.

Because she kept thinking about the call.

About Roman’s voice.

About him not being here.

She tried to shake it off.

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

Roxanne noticed first.

“Liv… you okay?”

Liv blinked, snapping out of her thoughts.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired. Big match. Big night.”

Raquel tilted her head, studying her.

“You sure?”

Liv nodded too quickly.

“Totally. I’m fine. Promise.”

They let it go — because they trusted her — but the worry lingered in their eyes.

And that’s when Jimmy walked by.

Towel over his shoulder.

Smirk already forming.

Eyes locked on Liv like he could see straight through her.

He slowed to a stop.

“Well, well, well… look at the birthday champion.”

Liv rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling.

“Thanks, Jimmy.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough so only she could hear.

“You wrestled your heart out out there. Roman would’ve loved to see it.”

Her breath hitched — just barely — but Jimmy caught it.

His smirk deepened.

“Don’t look so down,” he murmured. “Paris is the city of love. Anything could happen tonight.”

Liv’s heart skipped.

“What does that mean?”

Jimmy just winked, turned, and walked away like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in her lap.

Roxanne and Raquel exchanged confused looks.

Liv suddenly felt her pulse in her throat.

Something was happening.

Something she didn’t understand yet.

Something Jimmy definitely knew.

And suddenly, she needed to get back to the hotel.

Now.

Liv barely remembered the ride back to the hotel.

Her title was slung over her shoulder.

Her hair was still damp with sweat.

Her body ached in that good, post‑match way.

But her mind?

Her mind was on one thing.

One person.

Roman.

She kept hearing his voice from earlier.

“I’m not in Paris.”

“Every flight was booked.”

“I’ll be watching you.”

She told herself not to hope.

Not to expect anything.

Not to be disappointed.

But her heart didn’t listen.

She swiped her keycard, pushed open the door—

And froze.

Roman was sitting on the edge of her bed.

Head down.

Hands clasped.

Like he’d been waiting for hours.

He looked up.

And Liv didn’t think.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t speak.

She ran.

Before he could say a single word, she launched herself at him — full speed, full heart, full everything — and Roman barely had time to stand before she collided with his chest.

He caught her instantly.

Arms around her waist.

Her legs around his hips.

Her face buried in his neck.

His breath knocked out of him in a soft, stunned laugh.

“Liv—”

She didn’t let him finish.

Her arms tightened around him like she was afraid he’d disappear.

“You came,” she whispered, voice shaking.

Roman held her closer — one hand on her back, the other cradling the back of her head like she was something precious.

“I told you I wanted to be here.”

Liv pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining.

“You said every flight was booked.”

Roman smirked, brushing a thumb across her cheek.

“I didn’t say I stopped trying.”

Her heart flipped.

She rested her forehead against his.

“You’re really here.”

“I’m here,” he murmured. “For your birthday. For your win. For you.”

Liv’s breath hitched.

All night she’d been trying to fill the empty space he left.

And now he was here.

Filling it completely.

The silence in the room was thick, charged with the kind of electricity that only comes from months of being apart. Roman was still holding her, his hands steady on her waist, his eyes searching hers with that deep, quiet intensity.

But Liv wasn't in a quiet mood. The adrenaline from her win, the champagne in her veins, and the sheer, intoxicating sight of him standing in her hotel room made her feel bold. Dangerous.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear, her voice dropping into a sultry, teasing purr.

“Well…” she whispered, her breath hot against his skin. “Aren’t you going to do something special for me on my birthday, Tribal Chief? Mmmm?”

She felt the exact moment his composure fractured.

Roman didn't answer with words. He didn't even groan. Instead, his grip on her waist tightened until it was almost bruising, his eyes darkening into something primal and predatory.

Before she could even blink, he moved.

He backed her up with a sudden, forceful momentum, her heels clicking against the floor until her back hit the heavy wood of the door with a soft thud. The impact sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

Liv didn't flinch; she thrived. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him flush against her, wanting to feel every inch of the man the world was so afraid of.

Then, with a sudden, powerful surge of strength, he broke the tension. He didn't carry her to the bed he slammed her onto it.

The mattress dipped deeply under the force of her landing, and the breath left her lungs in a sharp gasp. Before she could even settle, Roman was over her, his heavy frame pinning her down, his hands bracing on either side of her head. He looked down at her, his hair slightly disheveled, his chest heaving, looking less like a king and more like a man possessed.

Liv looked up at him, a breathless, triumphant smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth despite the racing of her heart.

“Oh,” she teased, her voice trembling just a little. “So you’re not playing tonight, are you?”

Roman leaned down, his face inches from hers, his voice a low, dangerous growl that promised she wouldn't be getting any sleep at all.

“Playing?” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. “I’m done playing, Liv. Tonight, you’re mine.”

Liv laughed, a breathless, shaky sound, and reached for the hem of her shirt. She wanted to strip away the layers between them as fast as possible, her fingers fumbling with the fabric in her haste to feel his skin against hers.

But before she could even pull it over her head, Roman moved.

In one swift, commanding motion, he caught her wrists. He pinned them firmly against the pillows above her head, his large hands encircling her wrists like manacles. The sudden restraint made her gasp, her eyes flying wide as she looked up at him.

He was hovering directly over her, his muscles taut, his gaze burning into hers with an intensity that made her feel like she was the only person left in the world. A slow, dark smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth the look of a man who had finally decided to take exactly what he wanted.

“Nah,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvet growl that vibrated in the small space between them. “Not tonight, you tease. Let me.”

Liv’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She was used to being the one who took charge, the one who was fierce and unyielding, but under his gaze, she felt a delicious, heavy surrender. She couldn't help the way her breath hitched, and she could only nod, her eyes locked on his, her body humming with anticipation.

He didn't let go of her wrists until he had expertly stripped the shirt from her body, his eyes never leaving hers for a single second. The air in the room felt suddenly freezing against her skin, but the heat radiating from him was enough to keep her warm.

Then, it was his turn.

The movements were no longer slow or careful; there was a frantic, beautiful desperation in the way they shed the rest of their clothes, a silent race to get back to the feeling of skin on skin.

When the last of the fabric fell away, Roman moved back over her. He settled between her thighs, his heavy, muscular weight pressing her deep into the mattress. The sheer scale of him was overwhelming in the best way, pinning her down, grounding her, making her feel completely and utterly possessed.

As he lowered himself, his chest brushing against hers, Liv let out a long, shaky exhale. The world was gone. The titles, the fans, the secrets it all vanished. There was only the weight of him, the heat of him, and the beautiful, crushing reality that he was finally, truly, hers.

The air in the room felt thick, almost heavy, as Roman pulled back just enough to reach for the nightstand. Liv watched him through hooded eyes, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and sensitive to every tiny movement. She was a live wire, humming with a need so sharp it was almost painful.

As he prepared, the sound of his movement seemed amplified in the quiet room. Liv felt a wave of breathless anticipation wash over her, a dizzying sensation that made her want to reach out and pull him back to her, to end the torture of the wait.

When he finally moved back over her, the heat of him was overwhelming. He settled between her legs, his eyes dark and unreadable, watching her every reaction as if he were studying a masterpiece.

Then, he pushed in.

Liv’s head fell back against the pillow, a sharp, broken gasp escaping her lips. He was there filling her, grounding her and for a split second, she thought the ache would finally break. She arched her hips, desperate to find that rhythm, to feel the friction that would push her over the edge.

But Roman wasn't finished with her yet.

He slowed down. He stayed deep, but he didn't move. He stayed perfectly still, letting her feel the sheer weight and presence of him, letting the sensation build and build until she was practically vibrating under him. He was teasing her, holding back the very thing her body was screaming for.

“Roman…” she whimpered, her fingers digging into his biceps, her hips stuttering in a frantic, uncoordinated attempt to find movement. “Please… please.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice a low, commanding rumble that sent chills racing down her spine.

“Not yet,” he murmured, a dark, possessive glint in his eyes. He pulled back just a fraction, enough to make her feel the sudden, hollow emptiness of his absence. “If you want it that bad, Liv… you’re going to have to ask. You’re going to have to beg for me.”

The command hit her like a physical blow. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of pure, unadulterated want. The pride, the strength, the "champion" persona it all melted away. In this moment, she was just a woman who was starving for the man above her.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice cracking, her hips tilting up to meet him in a desperate plea. “Please, Roman. I need you. I need to feel you… please.”

A low, triumphant growl escaped his throat. The restraint he had been holding onto finally snapped. He gripped her hips, his fingers bruising her skin, and began to move with a fierce, relentless passion that finally gave her exactly what she had been begging for.

The restraint he had been holding onto finally snapped, and the shift in him was instantaneous. The slow, agonizing tease vanished, replaced by a fierce, primal rhythm that made the headboard thud rhythmically against the wall.

Roman wasn't gentle anymore. He moved with a heavy, relentless strength, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive force that left faint marks on her skin. He was driving into her with a raw, unbridled passion, his muscles rippling under her touch as he claimed her over and over again.

Liv was lost in it. She met every heavy thrust with a desperate arch of her back, her fingers digging into the corded muscle of his shoulders. She loved this the weight of him, the sheer, overwhelming power of him. She wanted to be consumed by him, to feel the full force of the man who usually held the world on his shoulders finally letting go of everything but her.

But even in the heat of the storm, Roman never truly lost himself.

In the brief, breathless lulls between his movements, he would lean down, his sweat slicked chest pressing against hers, his eyes searching hers with a sudden, intense clarity.

"You okay?" he’d rasp, his voice thick and rough, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw even as his body continued to move with a punishing intensity. "Liv… tell me."

It was a tiny moment, a split second of checking in, but it was everything. It was the anchor that allowed her to let go completely.

"Yes," she’d gasp, her eyes blown wide, her voice a broken, beautiful mess of sound. "Don't stop… please, Roman, don't you dare stop."

She was incredibly responsive to him, her body singing under his touch. Every time he tightened his grip, she let out a sharp, needy cry; every time he deepened the pace, she wrapped her legs even tighter around him, pulling him deeper, as if she could pull him into her very soul.

The tension built until it was a physical ache, a fever that neither of them could break. The world narrowed down to the sound of their synchronized breathing, the scent of skin and sweat, and the electric friction of their bodies.

When the end finally came, it wasn't a slow build it was an explosion.

Liv’s world shattered into a thousand points of light, a long, high cry escaping her as her body convulsed under his. Seconds later, Roman followed, a low, guttural roar tearing from his throat as he surrendered everything, his entire body tensing as he poured himself into her, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he finally, completely, let go.

As the world slowly stopped spinning, the only sound left in the room was the heavy, ragged rhythm of their breathing. Roman didn't pull away. He collapsed softly against her, his weight a warm, comforting anchor, his arms wrapping around her as if to shield her from the very world they had just escaped.

The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't the tense, hungry silence from before. It was soft, warm, and thick with the scent of skin and the fading echoes of their breathing.

Roman didn't pull away. He stayed draped over her for a long moment, his heavy weight a comforting presence that anchored her back to reality. Slowly, he shifted, rolling onto his side but keeping her tucked tightly against his chest, his arm draped over her waist as if he were afraid she might drift away if he let go.

He reached for the edge of the duvet, pulling it up over their tangled limbs, cocooning them in the warmth of the bed.

"You okay?" he whispered, his voice barely a breath against her hair. The roughness was gone, replaced by a tenderness so profound it made Liv’s heart ache.

"Better than okay," she murmured, her voice sleepy and satisfied. She turned her head slightly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. "I didn't think it was possible to feel this much."

Roman let out a soft, low chuckle a sound he rarely let anyone hear. He reached out, his large hand moving with incredible gentleness to brush a stray, damp lock of Blonde hair away from her face. His touch was light, reverent, as if he were handling something made of the finest glass.

"You're incredible, Liv," he said, his gaze fixed on her. There was no mask now. No stoicism. Just a raw, quiet adoration. "The way you… the way you let me in. It's everything."

He began to trace slow, soothing circles on her shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin he had just been gripping so fiercely. It was a silent apology for the intensity, a way of soothing the very body he had just pushed to its limits.

Liv felt a tear prick at the corner of her eye not from sadness, but from the overwhelming sense of being seen. In the ring, she was a fighter. In the world, she was a star. But here, in the quiet of a Parisian night, she was just a woman being cherished by the man she loved.

"Stay like this?" she asked softly, her eyes fluttering shut as his soothing touch lulled her toward sleep. "Just for a little while?"

Roman leaned down, pressing a long, lingering kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then the tip of her nose. He pulled her even closer, his chin resting on the top of her head, his heartbeat a steady, rhythmic drum beneath her ear.

"As long as you want," he promised, his voice a solemn vow in the dark. "I'm not going anywhere."

And as the lights of Paris twinkled faintly through the window, Liv finally drifted off, feeling safer, more loved, and more whole than she ever had in her life.

The End

TAGLST

Pair: Roman Reigns X Liv Morgan

Plot: On her birthday, Liv Morgan advances in the Queen of the Ring tournament in front of a roaring Paris crowd — but the one person she wants to see in the arena isn’t there. Roman calls before her match to tell her every flight to France was booked, and Liv tries to hide her disappointment behind a brave smile. Backstage, her friends celebrate her win, but Jimmy Uso catches the look in her eyes and hints that Paris is full of surprises. Liv rushes back to the hotel, expecting an empty room… and instead finds Roman waiting for her. Before he can say a word, she throws herself into his arms, overwhelmed that he came all this way for her. What follows is a night where the distance between them finally breaks — a birthday reunion in the city of love that neither of them will forget.

Hi guys, this one kinda took over my brain ngl. paris + liv morgan + birthday chaos?? yeah. also i had “Earned It” by The Weeknd on repeat the whole time, so if it feels a little intense… that’s why. hope you enjoy ✨

Liv was halfway through pulling her gear top over her head when she heard it — giggling.

Whispering.

Shuffling.

The unmistakable sound of women trying (and failing) to be sneaky.

She blinked.

“Uh… hello?”

The door burst open.

Roxanne.

Raquel.

Becky.

Sol.

Maxxine.

All crammed together, all grinning like they were about to commit a felony.

“Happy birthday, Liv!” they yelled in chaotic unison.

Liv’s jaw dropped.

On the counter:

A tiny pink cake with sparkles.

A handful of little wrapped gifts.

A card covered in glitter and questionable doodles.

Roxanne practically bounced. “We know you’ve got your match tonight, but we wanted to celebrate before you go out there and kill it!”

Raquel handed her a small bag. “Open mine first. It’s practical.”

It was socks. Very fluffy socks.

Liv laughed so hard she snorted.

Becky shoved a box into her hands next. “Mine’s not practical. It’s just cute. And don’t get used to me bein’ nice — I’m still gonna kick your arse out there.”

Liv grinned. “On my birthday?”

Becky smirked. “Especially on your birthday. Builds character.”

Sol gave her a friendship bracelet she braided herself.

Maxxine gave her a mini perfume.

Roxanne gave her a keychain shaped like a crown.

Liv’s eyes stung — the good kind.

“You guys… this is so sweet.”

Becky slung an arm around her. “Tonight’s your night, kid. Paris loves you. We love you. Now hurry up and eat cake so I can go beat you fair and square.”

Liv laughed, cheeks warm.

Then her phone buzzed.

She didn’t even have to look at the screen. Her heart already knew.

Roman.

She stepped away from the group, slipping into the quiet hallway.

“Hey,” she answered softly.

Roman’s voice came through low, warm, guilty — the kind of voice that always made her chest feel too small.

“Happy birthday, Liv.”

Her smile widened instantly.

“Thank you. I’m… I’m getting ready. The girls surprised me with cake.”

He hummed — that soft, approving sound he only ever made for her.

“I saw the card they posted. You look happy.”

“I am,” she whispered. “I’m excited. Nervous. But excited.”

There was a pause.

A heavy one.

Liv’s stomach tightened.

“Roman?”

He exhaled slowly.

“I’m not in Paris.”

Her heart dropped.

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t on the card tonight,” he continued, voice thick with frustration. “I tried to get a flight out anyway. Every seat was booked.”

Liv swallowed hard.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “Really. You don’t have to—”

“I wanted to be there.”

Her breath caught.

“I know,” she whispered.

“I’ll be watching your match,” he said. “Every second. You hear me?”

Liv nodded even though he couldn’t see it.

“Yeah. I hear you.”

Another pause.

Softer this time.

“Go win, birthday girl.”

Her chest warmed.

“I will.”

He hung up first.

Liv stood there for a moment, phone still in her hand, trying to breathe around the ache in her ribs.

She wanted him there.

She wanted him in the crowd.

She wanted him to see her shine.

But she pushed the feeling down and walked back into the locker room with a smile.

Tonight was still her night.

Even if he wasn’t here to see it.

The Queen of the Ring first‑round match was already chaos by the time Liv slid under the ropes. Paris was alive — loud, rowdy, chanting for her and Bliss every time either woman so much as breathed.

Alexa climbed onto the apron, lining up a cannonball to the outside. Liv barely had time to register it before she saw Becky charging in her peripheral vision. She moved — fast — and Becky’s baseball slide caught Liv instead.

The crowd gasped, then roared.

Cole’s voice echoed through the arena.

“Now Becky Lynch with a baseball slide!”

Corey chimed in.

“Bliss out of the way just in time!”

Alexa hit the cannonball on Becky instead, sending the Paris crowd into another wave of noise.

Cole kept going.

“Oh! Alexa Bliss cannonball to Lynch! And Chelsea Green now heading up to the top rope—Chelsea gonna fly!”

Chelsea did her dramatic “pledge your allegiance” pose before leaping, only to get slammed into the ring post by Becky.

The crowd booed loudly — Paris hated Chelsea tonight.

Cole laughed.

“How obnoxious would she be if she won Queen of the Ring? And—oh! Becky slams her into the ring post!”

Back in the ring, Liv sprinted toward the ropes, only for Chelsea to catch her with a stiff right hand.

Corey reacted instantly.

“Big right hand by Green! Rocks Liv Morgan!”

The crowd booed again — loudly — and Liv fed off it, firing back with a kick to Chelsea’s stomach.

Cole called it.

“Chelsea missed wild that time—Liv caught her with a kick to the midsection!”

Liv hooked Chelsea for the Three Amigos, and the Paris crowd exploded — they LOVED the Eddie tribute.

Corey couldn’t help himself.

“Look at this homage to potentially her uncle!”

Cole groaned.

“What are you talking about?”

Corey doubled down.

“I mean Liv Morgan, Dirty Dom—they’re in a relationship, Dom claims Eddie—”

Cole cut him off.

“Okay, I get it…”

Before Liv could finish the third suplex, Bliss and Chelsea grabbed her for a double suplex. Becky rushed in to help Liv counter, but it backfired — all three women got suplexed instead.

The crowd gasped again.

Liv and Becky leaned on the ropes, dazed. Bliss and Chelsea exchanged a look, then sprinted forward, hitting running knees to the backs of their necks.

Cole narrated.

“I guess this is an okay strategy… turn it into a one‑on‑one matchup!”

Chelsea shoved Becky into one corner while Bliss kicked Liv into another. The crowd booed Bliss for a second — then immediately cheered her again because Paris couldn’t decide who they loved more.

Cole tried to keep up.

“And—oh! Bliss now—”

Chelsea suddenly kicked Bliss in the face, dropping her. The crowd popped HUGE for that one.

Chelsea hit running knees to Liv and Becky once, then went for a second round — but Liv moved, sending Chelsea crashing into the corner. Liv hit an elbow, rolled out of Becky’s path, and elbowed both Becky and Chelsea again.

Paris roared for her.

Bliss recovered and unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks on Liv.

Corey shouted over the noise.

“A blitz of strikes from Bliss!”

Becky charged Bliss, going for the Manhandle Slam.

Cole called it.

“Now Bliss turns her attention to Lynch—looking for the Manhandle Slam—Bliss trying to get out of it!”

Becky tossed Bliss into the ropes and soaked in the Paris boos — she loved every second of it.

She didn’t see Chelsea on the top rope.

Cole yelled.

“Missile dropkick from Green to Lynch! Chelsea has looked great so far in this matchup!”

Bliss hooked Chelsea for a DDT.

Corey reacted.

“No doubt about it—as has Alexa Bliss! DDT!”

Then Bliss hit a blockbuster on Becky.

Corey again.

“Blockbuster by Bliss—but here comes Morgan!”

Liv went for Oblivion — Bliss blocked it.

Corey’s voice jumped.

“Uh oh!”

Bliss hit a Sister Abigail DDT, dragging Liv off the ropes.

Cole shouted.

“Sister Abigail! Drags Morgan back off the ropes—and Becky gonna save the matchup!”

Becky yanked Bliss into a Manhandle Slam. Chelsea dove in, hooking Becky for the Unprettier.

Cole was breathless.

“Cover by Becky—Chelsea Green’s turn to break things up! She’s got Lynch hooked for the Unprettier—cover by Green!”

Corey yelled.

“She’s gonna do it!”

But Liv twisted, rolled Chelsea up tight, and the crowd counted along.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Paris exploded.

Cole’s voice boomed.

“Morgan turns it into a pinning combination! Liv Morgan—happy birthday, Liv!”

Liv sat up, chest heaving, the crowd chanting her name so loudly it echoed in her bones.

She won.

She advanced.

She should’ve felt unstoppable.

But as she walked backstage, the cheers fading behind her, something in her chest felt strangely heavy.

Something was missing.

Someone.

The second Liv stepped through the curtain, the noise of Paris still ringing in her ears, the backstage area erupted.

Roxanne practically launched herself at her.

“SEMIFINALS, BABY!”

Raquel wrapped her in a bear hug next.

“You did it, birthday girl!”

Becky, still catching her breath from the match, pointed at her with a smirk.

“Alright, alright — you got me tonight. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Liv laughed, breathless, flushed, adrenaline still buzzing under her skin. She shifted the Women’s World Championship on her shoulder — she’d carried it to the ring, and now it felt heavier, more real, more hers than ever.

Everyone was smiling.

Everyone was cheering.

Everyone was proud.

And Liv smiled back — she really did — but something in her chest tugged downward.

Because she kept thinking about the call.

About Roman’s voice.

About him not being here.

She tried to shake it off.

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

Roxanne noticed first.

“Liv… you okay?”

Liv blinked, snapping out of her thoughts.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired. Big match. Big night.”

Raquel tilted her head, studying her.

“You sure?”

Liv nodded too quickly.

“Totally. I’m fine. Promise.”

They let it go — because they trusted her — but the worry lingered in their eyes.

And that’s when Jimmy walked by.

Towel over his shoulder.

Smirk already forming.

Eyes locked on Liv like he could see straight through her.

He slowed to a stop.

“Well, well, well… look at the birthday champion.”

Liv rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling.

“Thanks, Jimmy.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough so only she could hear.

“You wrestled your heart out out there. Roman would’ve loved to see it.”

Her breath hitched — just barely — but Jimmy caught it.

His smirk deepened.

“Don’t look so down,” he murmured. “Paris is the city of love. Anything could happen tonight.”

Liv’s heart skipped.

“What does that mean?”

Jimmy just winked, turned, and walked away like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in her lap.

Roxanne and Raquel exchanged confused looks.

Liv suddenly felt her pulse in her throat.

Something was happening.

Something she didn’t understand yet.

Something Jimmy definitely knew.

And suddenly, she needed to get back to the hotel.

Now.

Liv barely remembered the ride back to the hotel.

Her title was slung over her shoulder.

Her hair was still damp with sweat.

Her body ached in that good, post‑match way.

But her mind?

Her mind was on one thing.

One person.

Roman.

She kept hearing his voice from earlier.

“I’m not in Paris.”

“Every flight was booked.”

“I’ll be watching you.”

She told herself not to hope.

Not to expect anything.

Not to be disappointed.

But her heart didn’t listen.

She swiped her keycard, pushed open the door—

And froze.

Roman was sitting on the edge of her bed.

Head down.

Hands clasped.

Like he’d been waiting for hours.

He looked up.

And Liv didn’t think.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t speak.

She ran.

Before he could say a single word, she launched herself at him — full speed, full heart, full everything — and Roman barely had time to stand before she collided with his chest.

He caught her instantly.

Arms around her waist.

Her legs around his hips.

Her face buried in his neck.

His breath knocked out of him in a soft, stunned laugh.

“Liv—”

She didn’t let him finish.

Her arms tightened around him like she was afraid he’d disappear.

“You came,” she whispered, voice shaking.

Roman held her closer — one hand on her back, the other cradling the back of her head like she was something precious.

“I told you I wanted to be here.”

Liv pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining.

“You said every flight was booked.”

Roman smirked, brushing a thumb across her cheek.

“I didn’t say I stopped trying.”

Her heart flipped.

She rested her forehead against his.

“You’re really here.”

“I’m here,” he murmured. “For your birthday. For your win. For you.”

Liv’s breath hitched.

All night she’d been trying to fill the empty space he left.

And now he was here.

Filling it completely.

The silence in the room was thick, charged with the kind of electricity that only comes from months of being apart. Roman was still holding her, his hands steady on her waist, his eyes searching hers with that deep, quiet intensity.

But Liv wasn't in a quiet mood. The adrenaline from her win, the champagne in her veins, and the sheer, intoxicating sight of him standing in her hotel room made her feel bold. Dangerous.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear, her voice dropping into a sultry, teasing purr.

“Well…” she whispered, her breath hot against his skin. “Aren’t you going to do something special for me on my birthday, Tribal Chief? Mmmm?”

She felt the exact moment his composure fractured.

Roman didn't answer with words. He didn't even groan. Instead, his grip on her waist tightened until it was almost bruising, his eyes darkening into something primal and predatory.

Before she could even blink, he moved.

He backed her up with a sudden, forceful momentum, her heels clicking against the floor until her back hit the heavy wood of the door with a soft thud. The impact sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

Liv didn't flinch; she thrived. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him flush against her, wanting to feel every inch of the man the world was so afraid of.

Then, with a sudden, powerful surge of strength, he broke the tension. He didn't carry her to the bed he slammed her onto it.

The mattress dipped deeply under the force of her landing, and the breath left her lungs in a sharp gasp. Before she could even settle, Roman was over her, his heavy frame pinning her down, his hands bracing on either side of her head. He looked down at her, his hair slightly disheveled, his chest heaving, looking less like a king and more like a man possessed.

Liv looked up at him, a breathless, triumphant smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth despite the racing of her heart.

“Oh,” she teased, her voice trembling just a little. “So you’re not playing tonight, are you?”

Roman leaned down, his face inches from hers, his voice a low, dangerous growl that promised she wouldn't be getting any sleep at all.

“Playing?” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. “I’m done playing, Liv. Tonight, you’re mine.”

Liv laughed, a breathless, shaky sound, and reached for the hem of her shirt. She wanted to strip away the layers between them as fast as possible, her fingers fumbling with the fabric in her haste to feel his skin against hers.

But before she could even pull it over her head, Roman moved.

In one swift, commanding motion, he caught her wrists. He pinned them firmly against the pillows above her head, his large hands encircling her wrists like manacles. The sudden restraint made her gasp, her eyes flying wide as she looked up at him.

He was hovering directly over her, his muscles taut, his gaze burning into hers with an intensity that made her feel like she was the only person left in the world. A slow, dark smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth the look of a man who had finally decided to take exactly what he wanted.

“Nah,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvet growl that vibrated in the small space between them. “Not tonight, you tease. Let me.”

Liv’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She was used to being the one who took charge, the one who was fierce and unyielding, but under his gaze, she felt a delicious, heavy surrender. She couldn't help the way her breath hitched, and she could only nod, her eyes locked on his, her body humming with anticipation.

He didn't let go of her wrists until he had expertly stripped the shirt from her body, his eyes never leaving hers for a single second. The air in the room felt suddenly freezing against her skin, but the heat radiating from him was enough to keep her warm.

Then, it was his turn.

The movements were no longer slow or careful; there was a frantic, beautiful desperation in the way they shed the rest of their clothes, a silent race to get back to the feeling of skin on skin.

When the last of the fabric fell away, Roman moved back over her. He settled between her thighs, his heavy, muscular weight pressing her deep into the mattress. The sheer scale of him was overwhelming in the best way, pinning her down, grounding her, making her feel completely and utterly possessed.

As he lowered himself, his chest brushing against hers, Liv let out a long, shaky exhale. The world was gone. The titles, the fans, the secrets it all vanished. There was only the weight of him, the heat of him, and the beautiful, crushing reality that he was finally, truly, hers.

The air in the room felt thick, almost heavy, as Roman pulled back just enough to reach for the nightstand. Liv watched him through hooded eyes, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and sensitive to every tiny movement. She was a live wire, humming with a need so sharp it was almost painful.

As he prepared, the sound of his movement seemed amplified in the quiet room. Liv felt a wave of breathless anticipation wash over her, a dizzying sensation that made her want to reach out and pull him back to her, to end the torture of the wait.

When he finally moved back over her, the heat of him was overwhelming. He settled between her legs, his eyes dark and unreadable, watching her every reaction as if he were studying a masterpiece.

Then, he pushed in.

Liv’s head fell back against the pillow, a sharp, broken gasp escaping her lips. He was there filling her, grounding her and for a split second, she thought the ache would finally break. She arched her hips, desperate to find that rhythm, to feel the friction that would push her over the edge.

But Roman wasn't finished with her yet.

He slowed down. He stayed deep, but he didn't move. He stayed perfectly still, letting her feel the sheer weight and presence of him, letting the sensation build and build until she was practically vibrating under him. He was teasing her, holding back the very thing her body was screaming for.

“Roman…” she whimpered, her fingers digging into his biceps, her hips stuttering in a frantic, uncoordinated attempt to find movement. “Please… please.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice a low, commanding rumble that sent chills racing down her spine.

“Not yet,” he murmured, a dark, possessive glint in his eyes. He pulled back just a fraction, enough to make her feel the sudden, hollow emptiness of his absence. “If you want it that bad, Liv… you’re going to have to ask. You’re going to have to beg for me.”

The command hit her like a physical blow. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of pure, unadulterated want. The pride, the strength, the "champion" persona it all melted away. In this moment, she was just a woman who was starving for the man above her.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice cracking, her hips tilting up to meet him in a desperate plea. “Please, Roman. I need you. I need to feel you… please.”

A low, triumphant growl escaped his throat. The restraint he had been holding onto finally snapped. He gripped her hips, his fingers bruising her skin, and began to move with a fierce, relentless passion that finally gave her exactly what she had been begging for.

The restraint he had been holding onto finally snapped, and the shift in him was instantaneous. The slow, agonizing tease vanished, replaced by a fierce, primal rhythm that made the headboard thud rhythmically against the wall.

Roman wasn't gentle anymore. He moved with a heavy, relentless strength, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive force that left faint marks on her skin. He was driving into her with a raw, unbridled passion, his muscles rippling under her touch as he claimed her over and over again.

Liv was lost in it. She met every heavy thrust with a desperate arch of her back, her fingers digging into the corded muscle of his shoulders. She loved this the weight of him, the sheer, overwhelming power of him. She wanted to be consumed by him, to feel the full force of the man who usually held the world on his shoulders finally letting go of everything but her.

But even in the heat of the storm, Roman never truly lost himself.

In the brief, breathless lulls between his movements, he would lean down, his sweat slicked chest pressing against hers, his eyes searching hers with a sudden, intense clarity.

"You okay?" he’d rasp, his voice thick and rough, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw even as his body continued to move with a punishing intensity. "Liv… tell me."

It was a tiny moment, a split second of checking in, but it was everything. It was the anchor that allowed her to let go completely.

"Yes," she’d gasp, her eyes blown wide, her voice a broken, beautiful mess of sound. "Don't stop… please, Roman, don't you dare stop."

She was incredibly responsive to him, her body singing under his touch. Every time he tightened his grip, she let out a sharp, needy cry; every time he deepened the pace, she wrapped her legs even tighter around him, pulling him deeper, as if she could pull him into her very soul.

The tension built until it was a physical ache, a fever that neither of them could break. The world narrowed down to the sound of their synchronized breathing, the scent of skin and sweat, and the electric friction of their bodies.

When the end finally came, it wasn't a slow build it was an explosion.

Liv’s world shattered into a thousand points of light, a long, high cry escaping her as her body convulsed under his. Seconds later, Roman followed, a low, guttural roar tearing from his throat as he surrendered everything, his entire body tensing as he poured himself into her, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he finally, completely, let go.

As the world slowly stopped spinning, the only sound left in the room was the heavy, ragged rhythm of their breathing. Roman didn't pull away. He collapsed softly against her, his weight a warm, comforting anchor, his arms wrapping around her as if to shield her from the very world they had just escaped.

The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't the tense, hungry silence from before. It was soft, warm, and thick with the scent of skin and the fading echoes of their breathing.

Roman didn't pull away. He stayed draped over her for a long moment, his heavy weight a comforting presence that anchored her back to reality. Slowly, he shifted, rolling onto his side but keeping her tucked tightly against his chest, his arm draped over her waist as if he were afraid she might drift away if he let go.

He reached for the edge of the duvet, pulling it up over their tangled limbs, cocooning them in the warmth of the bed.

"You okay?" he whispered, his voice barely a breath against her hair. The roughness was gone, replaced by a tenderness so profound it made Liv’s heart ache.

"Better than okay," she murmured, her voice sleepy and satisfied. She turned her head slightly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. "I didn't think it was possible to feel this much."

Roman let out a soft, low chuckle a sound he rarely let anyone hear. He reached out, his large hand moving with incredible gentleness to brush a stray, damp lock of Blonde hair away from her face. His touch was light, reverent, as if he were handling something made of the finest glass.

"You're incredible, Liv," he said, his gaze fixed on her. There was no mask now. No stoicism. Just a raw, quiet adoration. "The way you… the way you let me in. It's everything."

He began to trace slow, soothing circles on her shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin he had just been gripping so fiercely. It was a silent apology for the intensity, a way of soothing the very body he had just pushed to its limits.

Liv felt a tear prick at the corner of her eye not from sadness, but from the overwhelming sense of being seen. In the ring, she was a fighter. In the world, she was a star. But here, in the quiet of a Parisian night, she was just a woman being cherished by the man she loved.

"Stay like this?" she asked softly, her eyes fluttering shut as his soothing touch lulled her toward sleep. "Just for a little while?"

Roman leaned down, pressing a long, lingering kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then the tip of her nose. He pulled her even closer, his chin resting on the top of her head, his heartbeat a steady, rhythmic drum beneath her ear.

"As long as you want," he promised, his voice a solemn vow in the dark. "I'm not going anywhere."

And as the lights of Paris twinkled faintly through the window, Liv finally drifted off, feeling safer, more loved, and more whole than she ever had in her life.

The End

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WWE SmackDown - June 12th, 2026