Took photos from @rollins4eva
It was a humid Saturday morning, and the smell of chalk and effort clung to the walls of the downtown CrossFit gym. Seth Rollins sweaty, bearded, and looking unfairly good in his black Superman tee and striped pastel shorts was already deep into his workout. He was grunting through sets of rope climbs while casually tossing playful glances at Y/N, who sat perched on a plyo box with her iced coffee like a proud but puzzled spectator.
Y/N was no stranger to the gym. She could spend an hour on the treadmill, breeze through a Zumba class, and still look like she walked off a skincare ad. But Seth’s kind of gym? It was another world entirely sledgehammers, battle ropes, weighted vests. She called it “the land where cardio goes to die.”
Seth, catching his breath and wiping his brow, strolled over with that grin. The one that meant mischief. The one that melted resolve.
“Babe,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead, “you ever thought about trying a real workout?”
Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying my cardio isn’t real?”
Seth laughed. “No, no just saying there’s a whole world beyond elliptical machines. Come on, do a few sets with me. Just try it.”
“Absolutely not.”
But somehow maybe it was the grin, maybe it was his sheer enthusiasm she found herself lacing up her sneakers and walking toward the rig.
Seth was gentle at first. A couple of bodyweight squats, some modified push-ups. Y/N powered through them with only minimal grumbling. She was even starting to enjoy it… until the burpees started.
“Who invented these? Why do you people do this to yourselves?” she wheezed, halfway through her fifth one.
“You’re doing great!” Seth cheered from behind a loaded barbell. “You’ve got this, baby!”
Y/N shot him a look that could have set off the fire alarm. “If I die here, tell my mom it was your fault.”
The rope climbs were the final straw. Y/N stood at the base of the thick, coiled monster like it had personally offended her. She jumped. Slid. Tried again. Nope. Gravity won every time.
Seth, still hyped and supportive, jogged over. “Alright, alright. Maybe we save that one for next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” she muttered, flopping dramatically onto a mat like she was auditioning for a soap opera. “I am not built for CrossFit. I’m built for playlists and incline walks.”
Seth dropped beside her, laughing. “Fair. But hey you tried. That’s what counts. And you looked amazing doing it.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You owe me brunch.”
“Deal. Pancakes. And maybe a little yoga afterward?”
She raised a brow. “You just can’t stop, can you?”
Seth leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Not when I’ve got the cutest gym partner in the world.”
Y/N was certain she’d never walked slower in her life. Her legs were jelly, her arms felt like they’d been borrowed from someone much weaker, and her sports bra had made a vow to never forgive her. She leaned heavily on Seth’s arm as they exited the gym and headed toward their favorite brunch spot a couple blocks away Sunny Side Up, a cozy little cafe with mismatched mugs and miracle-level mimosas.
Seth, of course, was bouncing with post-workout energy. He looked like he could climb another rope, do twenty more deadlifts, and still run home. His pastel shorts swung smugly with each step.
“Can’t believe I survived,” Y/N groaned as they walked in and slid into their usual booth. “That was barbaric.”
“You crushed it,” Seth said, practically glowing. “Even your dramatic collapse was elite-level.”
“Please,” she deadpanned. “I collapsed in style.”
A waitress came over, smiling knowingly at them. “The usual?”
“Yes,” Seth nodded. “And extra whipped cream. She earned it.”
Y/N slumped into the booth like it was a cloud. “Make that two mimosas. One for me and one for the ghost of my quads.”
Moments later, the table was full of food: a tower of protein pancakes for Seth, with peanut butter and banana slices artfully stacked; for Y/N, a breakfast burrito the size of her forearm and a pile of golden hash browns glistening in the sun.
Seth dug in with the enthusiasm of a man who just squatted a small car. Y/N picked up her mimosa first, sipping it with the air of a woman who had been through things.
“I hope you know,” she said between bites of hash brown, “this doesn’t mean I’m joining your crazy workouts now.”
“Of course not,” Seth said with a smirk. “I just wanted to see you in gym shorts and a headband. Mission accomplished.”
She kicked him lightly under the table.
“But,” he added, reaching across to steal a hash brown, “I gotta admit it was nice having you there. Even if you gave the rope climb a death glare.”
Y/N grinned, setting down her fork. “You’re lucky I like you, CrossFit King.”
Seth leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, eyes full of that soft sparkle he saved just for her. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it, baby. I just picked the best brunch partner in the world.”
They toasted with their mimosas his a polite sip, hers a triumphant gulp and for a moment, the soreness, sweat, and rope trauma faded into a quiet, syrupy happiness.
By the time they got home, the food coma had fully settled in.
Y/N padded into the apartment and immediately peeled off her sneakers with a groan so dramatic it could’ve won an Oscar. She left them by the door like abandoned soldiers from a fitness war. Seth followed behind her, still humming a tune he’d picked up at the gym, acting as if he hadn’t just burned a thousand calories before brunch.
“I’m never moving again,” Y/N announced, collapsing face-first onto the couch. “This is my final resting place. You can bury me with an ice pack and a bottle of ibuprofen.”
Seth chuckled, tossing a blanket over her and plopping down beside her. “Told you I’d go easy on you.”
She peeked at him from beneath the throw. “Easy? That was CrossFit Lite? What’s the full version, a Spartan race through lava?”
He leaned over and kissed her temple. “You’re tougher than you think.”
“I’m also smarter than I look,” she muttered. “Which is why I’m never doing that again.”
“Fair,” Seth said, kicking his feet up and pulling her into his lap. “But you earned all the post-workout snuggles. That’s the real reward.”
Y/N sighed as she curled into him, her head resting against his chest. He smelled like his cologne, faint sweat, and the faintest trace of maple syrup. She would’ve stayed in that exact spot forever if her thighs didn’t remind her of every squat she foolishly agreed to do.
Seth ran a hand gently through her hair, slow and soothing. “You really did good today.”
“I did medium,” she murmured sleepily. “At best.”
“That’s more than enough for me.”
The TV played quietly in the background—a nature documentary neither of them was really watching. Outside, the afternoon sun peeked through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the living room.
Y/N shifted slightly to look up at him. “You know I love you, right?”
Seth smiled, eyes warm. “Even though I made you burpee?”
“Especially because you didn’t laugh when I fell doing one.”
“Oh, I absolutely laughed. I just did it on the inside.”
She smacked his chest lightly, but the grin never left her face. She closed her eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull her further into comfort.
And just like that, surrounded by warmth, soreness, and syrupy satisfaction, the cardio queen and the CrossFit king fell into the softest kind of silence the kind that says, this is home.
