#pat mcafee

                ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

     The ride to the airport was quiet aside from the gentle thrum of the A/C. Y/N didn’t know what to say, and frankly, neither did he. It wasn’t common that the two mouthiest stars in the WWE were at a loss for words. Both of their phones had been on silent since the post of them att he game blew up. It only got progressively worse at three in the morning when the video fthem on the kiss cam emerged on the internet. Someone posted the footage and it was only a matter of time before they had to face the music for their actions.

Y/N had to call Colby. She knows he was sleeping when the video was posted, but he had to have seen it by now. But she couldn’t call him when she was with Phil. It wouldn’t be right to either of them to have that conversation. As soon as she’s in the airport, she plans on calling. She doesn’t know what to expect. Well, she has an idea… and it’s not gonna be pretty. And no matter how many times she’s ran through the conversation in her head the past few hours, nothing she says seems to be good enough. The only thing that seems to have stuck is just a desperate I’m sorry. 

Phil glances in her direction, watching as the wheels behind her eyes turn to the point of combustion. His green eyes can’t seem to look away from her for long, knuckles turning white as he grips the wheel. He knows exactly why she looks so broken. He knows she’s thinking about Colby. It stings. It does. Knowing after the moment they shared, she still can’t seem to get him out of her head. 

But he doesn’t have time to be mad or bitter. If he wants to win her back, he has to cover as much ground as possible. He exhales softly, reaching over the middle console to grab her hand. Y/N finally is pulled from her thoughts, eyes snapping up to meet Phil’s brief stare. He glances at her, then back at the road, then black at her. She didn’t expect the tenderness of his callused hand, but even though she should, she doesn’t pull away.

“You need to stop overthinking,” Phil tells her quiet yet firm. “Like you said at the game, it was a kiss cam. It’s not that big of a deal.”

There’s a long pause, Y/N inhaling sharply. “...Maybe that was me trying to convince myself it wasn’t,” she admits, hating how weak her voice sounds. “Clearly to the rest of the world it’s a big fucking deal. And I’m sure Colby wont react as nonchalantly about it as we tried to.”

Phil can hear the edge in her tone, but she’s more tired than angry, more disappointed. She couldn’t believe she tried to brush it off. “If he cares about you the way he says he does, he’ll listen to you.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t be angry, Phil,” she points out upsetedly. “I can talk in circles for hours about what happened, but he still has every right to be pissed off at me.”

“Why would he?” He hears himself growing frustrated. He tries to keep his emotions in check, but trying to calm her down over the man who practically stole her from him made it difficult. “You said yourself you didn’t think it meant anything.”

“I said I didn’t know what it meant,” she bites out. “It obviously meant something, asshole. It meant more than I wanted it to or I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be freaking out over everyone’s reaction. If it didn’t mean anything, i wouldn’t have even done it in the first place. I wouldn’t have felt the need to kiss you if I didn’t feel something.”

Silence. 

Phil isn’t quite sure what to say. In her angry rant, she just admitted more than he thought she would. She just fessed up to everything he wanted to hear. That there’s still something between them. He can’t help the way the corner of his lip twitches up at her confession, and also because of the fact she never pulled away when he held her hand. Y/N watches the way his eyes scrunch up in that infuritatingly cute way whenever he smiles. She has to fight off her own grin, focusing on why she’s still upset.

“WIpe that stupid smirk off your face before I do it for you,” she grumbles, looking out the window so she doesn’t feel the urge to actually smile back. However, she still never removes her hand from his. 

Phil just chuckles softly, shaking his head as he pulls into the parking lot where her gate is located. He throws he car in park, “No need to get so aggressive sweetheart,” he leans back in his chair, head tilting so he can stare at her. She doesn’t understand how he can look so at peace, how he can grin like they just got back from a honeymoon in Greece. Like they didn’t just do something that is going to implode their lives. “Just nice to hear that you still haven’t gotten over me.”

He almost cackles at the heavy glare she sends him. She shifts in her seat, looking away. An easy tell to him that she’s flustered. She always did this. But he loves watching the way she can’t help but smile awkwardly as her face heats up. 

“I hate you,” she grumbles. “And I am over you. Maybe this was just unresolved tension from when you dumped me for April.” 

Punk scoffs, “Okay, I didn’t dump you,” he counters sassily. “If my memory serves me correctly, it was your idea to end things.” His memory is perfect. It was Y/N’s idea to call things off as soon as she saw the way he acted with April. She wasn’t interested in being a secret side piece when he obviously wanted to be with someone else. If he wanted he he would come back eventually, and that’s what she told herself. 

“And you act like I didn’t fuck you in the broom closet at that arena in Wisconsin the week after.” He adds bluntly.

Y/N chokes on her own spit, startled by his brashness, but she does remember that day very vividly. Everyone thought her mach with Trish is what caused her limp, but if anyone saw the smirk on Punk’s face, they would’ve known the truth. He ws never subtle in his claims of her. 

She clears her throat, looking back out the window, “You still ended up choosing her.” 

Phil can hear the undertone of hurt  in her voice, no matter how hard she tries to mask it with indifference. It’s still there. That sting of losing something she had thought was a constant. They remained friends, of course, but after having the… special relationship they had, it was odd having to shift back to just friends. And most would say they never actually got back to that platonic place. April was the first one to call it out. That the two of them were just biding time until they found their way back to one another. 

Phil stares at her, eyes softening. “Did I?” He questions.

Y/N looks back at him, eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?’

His lip is twitched up in an almost sad smile. Reflecting on everything that has transpired between them makes the mood almost bittersweet. “Did I really choose her?”

Y/N blinks, “I mean, it sure as hell felt like it,” she scoffs out a laugh. “You guys were together for years Phil. She literally left the company right after you did. You guys moved in. Got a damn dog together. You stopped talking to me. I’d say that was a pretty finite decision.”

There’s a brief pause, “But where am I now?” 

Y/N stared at him, blinking in stunned silence at his words. But where am I now? The question echoed in her chest, bouncing around her ribcage in a way that was almost suffocating. Because he was right. He came back. He was sitting here. With her. Not with April. Not with anyone else. But even still, she couldn’t stop that voice in her head from whispering that maybe this wasn’t real, that maybe this was just circumstance. Maybe he was only here because everything else fell apart.

Phil noticed the hesitation in her eyes instantly, like he always did. He leaned back against the driver’s seat, still holding her hand, his thumb tracing over her knuckles. “There’s a reason I’m here with you and not her,” he said finally, his tone lower, less teasing now. “There’s a reason that shit didn’t work out. Because— truth is— I made my decision a long time ago. I was just too dumb, too stubborn to admit it. The happiest I’ve ever been was when I was with you. And I didn’t even realize it until it was gone.”

Her throat went dry, her chest tightening. She shook her head, almost laughing bitterly. “Phil… you’re only saying that because it didn’t work out with April. You wouldn’t be here saying this if it had.”

He smirked, but it wasn’t cocky, it was tired, honest. “No. You don’t get it. I could never hate April. No matter how bad things got, no matter what we disagreed on, she was never someone I could hate.”

Y/N blinked, confusion flashing in her eyes. “How the hell does that prove anything? That literally backs up what I just said.”

Phil shook his head slowly, his hand tightening around hers. “No, sweetheart. Indifference? That’s when you know you never really gave a shit. That’s when it’s over. But hate?” His green eyes locked on hers, sharp, unflinching. “The line between hate and love’s so goddamn thin you can barely see it. And that’s how I knew. ‘Cause I could hate you. I did hate you sometimes. But it was never clean. Never final. It’s because I never actually wanted to let you go.”

The air in the car thickened, neither of them able to look away from the other. Y/N’s heart pounded so hard she swore he could hear it. His face was so close, his voice so raw, and before she could even think, they were leaning in, too close, too dangerous.

It was another one of those moments. One of those “if you move an inch, I’m done for” moments. She could feel his breath ghosting across her lips, her pulse racing at the familiar pull between them. And god, she wanted it. She wanted to let herself fall back into the ease of him, back into the chaos that somehow always made sense when it was just the two of them.

But Colby’s face flashed in her head. His laugh, his warmth, the way he always made her feel steady. Safe.

Her chest constricted. She couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to.

Instead of kissing him, Y/N leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder. It was the only thing she could give him without breaking every promise she had made to herself. Phil froze for a second, surprised. Then his arms came around her, strong and grounding, holding her like he wasn’t ready to let go. He exhaled softly against her hair, disappointment flickering in his chest, but understanding too. He wasn’t going to push.

“Guess that’s my answer, huh?” he muttered against her temple, a sad smile in his tone.

Y/N pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes glossed over. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, brushing a strand of hair from her face before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. It lingered, warm, final in its own way. “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart.”

The silence between them said everything else.

Phil got out first, slinging her carry-on over his shoulder before she could argue. He walked her through the automatic doors, through the noise of the terminal, right up until the security checkpoint where he couldn’t go any further. The weight of their history followed them, hanging heavy in the air. Neither of them wanted to say goodbye, not really. But they also knew they had to.

“I’ll see you at work,” he said finally, stuffing his hands in his pockets like if he didn’t, he’d reach out and hold her again.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice quieter than she wanted it to be. “See you at work.”

She lingered, just staring at him for a long moment like she wanted to memorize him standing there. He gave her that small half-smile, the one that had always undone her, and it nearly broke her. Finally, she forced herself to turn and head toward her gate. She didn’t look back. Not until she was far enough away that he couldn’t see her falter.

But Phil stayed there. Watching. Until she disappeared from sight.

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

     Getting through security went a lot smoother than Y/N originally anticipated. Truthfully, she wished it took longer to avoid the phone call she’s about to make. Her hands shake with anxiety as she bypasses a Starbucks on her way to find her seat to wait for boarding. She can’t have caffeine now, it’ll just make it worse. She finally finds an empty seat in a rather quiet corner. The only person near her is eight seats over and passed out with headphones lodged in his ears. 

She exhales shakily, pulling her hoodie further over her head to hide her face. She can already feel herself getting emotional and she hasn’t even called him yet. She pulls her phone out of her sweatpants pocket, unlocking it with ease. Her heart beats faster and faster with every swipe of her finger. She opens up the phone app before Colby’s profile picture pops up. He’s her first favorited contact. She swallows thickly, throat bobbing from the force. 

She can already feel the familiar sting behind her eyes. She fucked up. She knows she did. And there’s nothing she can say to excuse her behavior. He’d be completely in the right to tell her not to come home. She wouldn’t blame him if he did. He’s stood by her all these years, through everything, and she went behind his back and kissed the man who broke her into a million pieces. 

She betrayed the man who put her back together.

Reluctantly, she presses call and puts her headphones in. She sucks in a deep breath as it rings. Once… twice… three times… and then–

“Hello?”

The sound of his voice nearly knocks the air from her chest. It’s deep, rough, but not in the way she loves, it’s clipped, restrained. Like he’s holding a snarl in the back of his throat. She can’t tell if it’s anger or if he’s been crying, but either option makes her stomach twist violently.

“Hey,” she breathes, trying to keep her tone light, normal, but it cracks at the edges.

“Don’t,” he cuts in sharply. One word, firm, and it shuts her down instantly. There’s no warmth, no ease, none of the usual soft teasing that comes with his hellos.

Her throat tightens. “So… I’m guessing you saw.”

“I saw.” The words are bitten off, sharp as glass.

She swallows, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her hoodie. “Colby—”

“Y/N, don’t,” he interrupts again, harsher this time. “Don’t sit there and act like this is something we can just… chat about over the phone. I trusted you.” His voice raises slightly before he reins it in, but the strain is evident. “I trusted you to go on this trip, keep it clean, keep it professional, and instead what do I get? I get to watch you kiss the guy you swore to me, swore to me, didn’t have a chance in hell.”

The words slam into her, every syllable weighted. Her chest heaves, breath shaking. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t like that,” she stammers, but even she knows how weak it sounds. “I don’t even know why I—”

“Exactly.” His voice cuts through hers, sharp, frustrated. “You don’t even know. And I’m supposed to sit here and what? Just accept that?” His anger drips heavy through the line, but there’s a break underneath it,  a fracture she knows is pain.

Her voice drops, barely audible. “I messed up. I know I did. I—”

He exhales, the sound rough, strained, like he’s dragging his hands down his face. For a second, she thinks she hears his breath hitch, but then it hardens again. “I’m not doing this on the phone. Not like this.”

She freezes. “So… what does that mean?”

“It means,” Colby says slowly, tightly, “we’ll talk when you’re back in Davenport. Face to face. I’m not—” his voice cracks just barely, then steadies, “—I’m not giving you some half-assed fight through a phone line. You deserve better than that, and I deserve better than that.”

For the first time in days, something flickers inside her. Small. Fragile. Hope. “So…” her voice shakes, afraid of the answer, “I’m still welcome?”

There’s silence on the other end, and she swears her heart is going to stop from the weight of it. When he finally speaks, it’s softer, but still wounded. “Jesus, Y/N… of course you’re welcome. It’s your home too.” He exhales again, this one sounding like it hurts. “It’s not about me wanting you there. It’s about… if I can look at you the same when you are.”

Her lips tremble. She wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out except a broken little “okay.”

“I’ll see you when you get home,” he says firmly, and just like that, the line goes dead.

The sound leaves her hollow. She pulls her headphones out, staring down at her phone screen until it blurs with tears. Quiet, muffled sobs shake through her as she curls in on herself, face hidden by her hood. People move past her in the terminal, luggage wheels rolling, announcements echoing overhead, but she’s frozen,  her chest aching, her heart breaking, and her world tilting in the middle of an airport chair.

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

     The Uber pulled away from the curb, leaving Y/N standing in front of Colby’s house with her hood pulled low over her face. Her backpack hung heavy on one shoulder, but not nearly as heavy as the exhaustion pressing down on her. She hadn’t slept on the flight. Couldn’t. Her eyes burned, her throat ached, but there weren’t any tears left in her. She just felt hollow.

Her fist hovered over the door for longer than it should have before she finally knocked. She didn’t even feel right walking in anymore.

When the door swung open, Colby stood there, hair pulled back, sweats hanging low on his hips. The surprise that flashed across his face was unmistakable. They just stared at each other for a long beat, both of them frozen.

Finally, he stepped aside, opening the door wider. “You’re back.” His voice was quieter than usual, controlled.

Y/N shuffled past him, tugging her hoodie strings tighter as though they could hide her. “Yeah.”

The door shut behind her, the sound echoing in the silence. She didn’t dare look up.

“Why didn’t you tell me you landed?” Colby asked, still standing behind her. “I would’ve come and got you.”

Her voice came out hoarse, cracked from hours of crying. “I… I didn’t wanna bother you.”

That did it. His tone sharpened instantly, frustration cutting through the exhaustion on his face. “Jesus, Y/N. Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I don’t give a damn. Don’t ever think that. Of course I would’ve came to get you.”

She flinched, shoulders hunching further. “Sorry,” she whispered, so quiet it almost disappeared into the air.

Colby let out a long breath, running a hand down his face. He could see how broken she looked. Puffy eyes, red nose, hoodie drawn in around her like armor. It killed him, but he forced himself to keep steady. He couldn’t just fold. Not this time.

They finally made their way to the couch, sitting down with a space between them that felt like a canyon. Colby leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “So.” He paused, jaw clenching. “Why?”

Y/N’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. “It was the kiss cam. They put us on it, and we tried to brush it off, but they wouldn’t move on. People started booing, yelling… it just– it got overwhelming. So I kissed him. Just to shut it down.”

Her eyes flicked up briefly to his before dropping again. “It didn’t mean anything.”

Colby let out a harsh laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Didn’t mean anything. Right.” He leaned back, shaking his head. “You been on my ass for months– months– about being jealous, about ‘losing my shit’ whenever Punk was around. You made me feel like I was crazy. Like I was insecure for no reason.” His eyes finally snapped to hers, sharp and burning. “But then you go and kiss him in front of thousands of people. So tell me, Y/N– was I wrong? Was I outta line, or did I have every goddamn right to be pissed?”

Y/N stayed silent, her chest rising and falling unevenly. She didn’t even try to argue. “You’re right,” she murmured finally, barely above a whisper. “You had every right. And I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever I need to do to make it up to you. And if you…” her voice cracked again, “…if you don’t wanna do this anymore, I get it.”

Colby’s jaw worked, like he was chewing on words he wasn’t sure he wanted to let out. Finally, he leaned forward again, voice low but steady. “Don’t be ridiculous. You think I don’t want you anymore? You think I’d be sittin’ here, feeling like my chest just got ripped open, if I didn’t want you?”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide.

He nodded slowly, firm. “Yeah. At first, I didn’t know if I’d even be able to look at you the same. Felt like I lost everything in one damn second. But even now? Even with all that? I still want you. More than anything. I don’t wanna lose you, Y/N. You’re still mine.”

Her lips trembled, but no words came. He rubbed his hands together, shaking his head like he was trying to convince himself as much as her. “I just… I need time. I need some space to figure out how to get past this. ’Cause right now, I don’t know how.”

She swallowed hard, nodding. “Okay. I can go home for now. Give you space.”

But Colby was already shaking his head. “No. I don’t want you leaving. I gotta head out for Raw tomorrow anyway. You won’t be there, so we’ll use that time apart. You’ll be here when I get back, and we’ll see where we’re at.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Colby leaned back into the couch, running both hands over his face again. The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t hostile either. It was something in between raw, fragile, but maybe still salvageable.

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

     The apartment still felt like him. His jacket was draped over the back of the couch, his coffee mug still sitting upside down on the drying rack. Even Kevin was moping by the door like he half-expected his owner to walk back through at any second. Y/N caught herself thinking about the way he left that morning, replaying it like it was stuck on a loop.

Colby had been quiet when he zipped his bag up, his eyes darting to her every couple of minutes like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. He lingered in the doorway longer than he had to, hand flexing at his side, like he wasn’t sure if reaching for her was the right move.

He wanted to kiss her. She knew it. She could feel it in the way he stalled, the way his jaw twitched, the way his chest rose like he was fighting himself. But instead of making him choose, Y/N reached out first. She laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a firm squeeze.

“It’s okay,” she told him softly. “You don’t have to.”

The words nearly cracked her chest in half, but she meant them. She didn’t want him to force something he wasn’t ready for just to make her feel better. And the way he stared at her in that moment, like he could see the truth written all over her face, almost broke him too.

She wanted the kiss badly. He could see it. But she was willing to swallow that want, just to make sure he felt valid in his feelings. It made it damn near impossible to stay mad at her.

So he compromised. He leaned in and pressed a kiss against her cheek. Not the lips. Not yet. But it was something, and she held on to it like it mattered more than it probably should have. Then he walked out the door, and the place had felt emptier ever since.

Now, hours later, she’d been trying to keep busy. She’d run herself ragged around his place — vacuumed, mopped, did the dishes, fed Kevin, even scrubbed down the counters. Busy hands meant she didn’t have to sit with her thoughts. She finally collapsed onto the couch with a plate of food, flicking on the TV for background noise.

The phone rang.

Demi.

Y/N instantly perked up, smiling as she answered. “Hey, stranger.”

“Where the hell are you?” Demi’s accent cut through immediately, blunt and sharp as always.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… home?”

“Yeah, I figured that much,” Demi said dryly. “But why? You should be here. They didn’t book you or what?”

Y/N leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. “Nope. Nothing for me tonight. I’ve got the kickoff show in Vegas on Thursday. So I figured I’d stay back. Save myself the hassle of traveling for once.” She hesitated, not adding the and because Colby and I are a mess right now part.

“Laaame,” Demi shot back immediately. “We could’ve gone out for dinner. You’re killin’ me here.”

Y/N laughed. “I’ll make it up to you next time. Promise.”

“Yeah, you better.” Demi’s tone softened a little before shifting. “Anyway, they’ve got me runnin’ Nia at Chamber. They want you to stir some trouble in it. Some kinda revenge angle after last week.”

Y/N smirked, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “Oh, that sounds fun. But hear me out, what if we pitched a handicap match instead?”

There was a beat of silence before Demi barked out a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that. You try sellin’ that to creative and lemme know how it goes.”

They both giggled, the easy flow of their friendship pulling some of the weight off Y/N’s chest. Until Demi casually added: “By the way, you seen social media at all today?”

Y/N froze. “…no?”

“The Blackhawks game,” Demi clarified, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. “You and Punk. Internet’s eatin’ it up. Everyone here’s been mumblin’ about it.”

Y/N groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “God. Does that mean everyone knows?”

“Anyone with access to Wi-Fi,” Demi deadpanned. “So… yeah. That’d explain why Colby looked ready to chew through steel tonight.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her heart thumping harder. But she couldn’t tell if it was Colby’s name or Phil’s that did it. Flashes of both of them cut through her head like static, and the worst part was… she missed them. Both of them. But Colby– Colby was her priority. He had to be.

“Yeah,” Y/N said finally, her voice small. “We’re just… trying to figure out where we’re at.”

Demi hummed low. “Probably a good thing Punk wasn’t here tonight then. Colby might’ve actually swung on him.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh, though her pulse spiked again. “Yeah… glad he wasn’t around. We don’t need any more drama.”

That’s when Demi’s tone shifted,  sharper, more probing. “So why’d you kiss him?”

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to put the storm into words. “The kiss cam wouldn’t move on. The crowd started booing. It was all just… so much. I panicked. I just did it without thinking.” Her voice cracked a little. “And now I’m dealing with the fallout.”

A long exhale came through the line. “Love’s not easy, mate. Especially not in this business.” Demi’s voice was gentler now, but still firm. “If you really only did it ‘cause you felt pressured, then it’s fixable. Colby’ll come ‘round. But…”

Y/N swallowed hard. “But?”

“But if you did it ‘cause you still have feelings for him…” Demi let the weight of the words hang. “…that’s a whole different conversation.”

Silence stretched between them. Y/N’s stomach turned.

“Do you?” Demi finally asked, blunt as ever. “Still have feelings for Punk?”

Y/N’s answer was barely a whisper. “I don’t know.”

Another pause. Y/N could almost hear Demi running a hand over her face on the other end. Finally, she spoke. “Here’s what I think,” Demi said, tone steadier now. “You’ve got stability with Colby. He grounds you. But I’ve seen you around Punk too. You light up different. More… alive. Only you know what you want, but you can’t drag this out forever. It ain’t fair to either of ‘em. Or you.”

“I know,” Y/N murmured.

Demi softened, a smile threading through her words. “Listen, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. We’ll do a girls’ night in my hotel room, or we’ll hit the gym and smash some weights. Whatever you need, yeah?”

Y/N’s lips curved despite herself. “I might have to take you up on that.”

“Good.” Demi’s grin was audible. “Now quit mopin’ and eat somethin’. I love ya.”

“Love you too, Dem.”

The call ended, leaving Y/N staring at her phone, her food forgotten. Her chest ached with all the things she couldn’t say out loud.

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

     Colby came home later than usual, the kind of late that made the house feel heavier than it should’ve. He kicked off his boots by the door, set his bag down with a thump, and waited for Kevin’s nails to start clicking across the hardwood toward him. Nothing. That alone stopped him cold.

He rounded the corner quietly and found the reason why. Y/N was in the kitchen, hair tied up in a messy bun that looked like it’d been fighting gravity all day, one of his old Blackcraft shirts draped over her frame with a pair of spandex shorts. There was a dusting of sugar smeared across her cheek, and she was muttering to herself as she wiped down the counter, checked the oven, wiped again. Kevin was curled up by her feet, head on his paws, keeping watch.

Colby leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, and just took it in for a second. She looked… domestic. Too domestic. Like she was trying to anchor herself to something while he wasn’t here.

He cleared his throat.

Y/N jumped like she’d been shot. Her head whipped toward him, eyes wide, cheeks flushing instantly when she realized he was watching her in this state. “Colby, I—I didn’t hear you—”

Her gaze darted to the clutter of bowls, the dusting of flour across the counter, the sink piled with dishes. Her chest tightened. God, it looks like a disaster. He’s going to hate this. He’s already mad, and now it looks like I can’t even keep the place clean—

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, hands flying to grab the nearest dish rag. “I was just— I didn’t mean for it to get so messy, I’ll— I’ll clean it up right now—”

Her words started tripping over each other, coming faster and faster as her breathing picked up. “I should’ve— I wasn’t thinking, I just— I thought you’d maybe like the pie and I wasn’t trying to— I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

“Hey,” Colby said softly, taking a step forward.

But she didn’t hear him. Her chest heaved, breaths shallow and ragged, as she shoved plates around with trembling hands. The room tilted around her, closing in. It was like drowning, every inhale tighter than the last, lungs straining as if someone had cinched them shut. Her throat burned. Her fingers shook so badly she dropped the rag.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” she chanted, tears pricking at her eyes as her voice cracked. Her whole body trembled, panic crawling like fire under her skin.

Colby’s heart plummeted. “Baby, stop—” His voice broke as he crossed the space between them, reaching for her wrists. She tried to pull away, still babbling through sobs, “I messed everything up, I kissed Phil, I hurt you, I hurt you, I ruin everything—”

“Stop.” This time it was sharper, desperate. He caught her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to his. “Y/N, breathe.”

Her chest stuttered, air catching like it physically hurt.

“You’re not listening to me,” he whispered urgently, pulling her against him and pressing her face to his chest. “Right here. Feel me. Right here.”

He exaggerated a slow inhale, then a steady exhale, chest rising and falling against her cheek. His palm rubbed circles on her back, grounding her. “Match me, baby. Just match me.”

For a few terrifying seconds, she couldn’t. Her body shook violently, sobs clawing up her throat, but slowly, painfully slowly, her breaths began to line up with his. Still ragged, but deeper. The drowning started to ease, inch by inch, like her head was finally breaking the surface.

Colby kept his lips pressed to the crown of her head, murmuring between breaths. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

The dam broke. She sobbed into his shirt, shaking like she was made of glass. “I’m sorry,” she choked again, words muffled against him. “For the kitchen, for kissing him, for everything. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

His chest cracked open at the sound. He lifted her effortlessly onto the island, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her tears streaked down, blotchy and raw, and it damn near gutted him. His hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing tears away.

“Baby… stop apologizing for making dessert. You didn’t murder anybody.” His tone softened, but he held her gaze. “As for the rest… look. I can’t sit here and say I’m over it. Not yet. You crossed a line, and it cut me. But—” He exhaled, shoulders loosening. “If you’re telling me it didn’t mean anything, then I’ll believe you. That’s enough for me to try.”

She nodded, lip trembling. “It didn’t. I swear it didn’t.”

“I know.” His thumbs smoothed over her damp cheeks again. “But there’s gotta be a boundary, alright? I can’t have you alone with him. Not after that. I’m not trying to control you, I just— that’s where I draw the line.”

Her heart sank, and it showed in her eyes. But she still whispered, “Okay. If that’s what it takes… okay.”

Colby leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose, then the damp corner of her mouth. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t think for a second I don’t still want you. You’re still mine.”

That cracked something in her, and she grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He kissed her temple. “It’s gonna be alright. One step at a time.”

That’s when the oven beeped.

Y/N jumped, swiping at her face. “Shit.” She scrambled off the counter, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling out the pie. It was golden, perfect. She set it down and turned with a sheepish smile, cheeks still blotchy. “Surprise.”

Colby smirked, that signature Rollins smirk, cocking his head. “You made this for me?”

She shrugged, suddenly shy. “I made it because…I missed you. I missed your warmth. This was the only way I could stop crying long enough to feel you close.”

Something inside him twisted, aching and tender all at once. It made sense now why Kevin didn’t rush to the door when he got home. He’d been protecting her. It killed him to think of her having a panic attack like that without him home. But at least Kevin was there to keep her steady when he couldn’t. He’d bonded to her. He was comforting her like a young child would their mother. 

He leaned in, kissing her lips, soft, unhurried. Her eyes widened, startled, before he pulled back just enough to whisper, “Thank you.”

Then he grabbed forks, a knife, and the whipped cream. Minutes later, as the pie cooled, he finally cut himself a slice. One bite in and he groaned out loud, dramatic and unfiltered. “Goddamn. That’s the best pumpkin pie I’ve ever had. And you know how picky I am with this shit.”

Y/N’s face bloomed into a smile, the first real one in days. For the first time since everything fell apart, it felt like they had a piece of their groove back.

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

    Thursday came a lot quicker than Y/N anticipated. It was finally time for the WrestleMania forty kickoff event. She and Colby caught a flight Thursday night, the travel being nonstop for them. Y/N has gotten to the point where she doesn’t believe she can get jet lag anymore with how frequently they’re in different time zones. 

Her hand is laced through Colby’s as they walk into the venue. Cameras are immediately on them as they walk forward, prerecording for when they go live later. He glances down at her, a small grin on his face as she looks up at him. He doesn’t even think before leaning down to kiss her softly. She smiles against his lips, happy that they’re at a point where he feels comfortable enough to kiss her again. 

The arena was already buzzing with that distinct pre-WrestleMania energy, voices bouncing off the high ceilings, camera lights flashing every few seconds, production assistants rushing past with clipboards in hand. Y/N adjusted her grip on Colby’s hand as they walked deeper into the venue, the cameras that had followed them finally peeling off once they’d gotten the prerecorded footage they needed. She leaned closer to him, lowering her voice with a grin.

“Feels like a zoo in here.”

Colby let out a small laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching as he glanced down at her. “Y’know how it is during WrestleMania seasoned, babe. Controlled chaos.”

Before Y/N could respond, she spotted a familiar blonde head across the room. “Cody!” she called out, breaking into a grin as she slipped out of Colby’s grasp just long enough to cross the floor and pull Cody Rhodes into a quick hug.

Cody let out a soft laugh, squeezing her back tightly before pulling away to look her over. “Well, look who finally showed up. You ready for tonight, or am I gonna have to carry you in our segment too?”

Y/N smirked, nudging him in the ribs. “Please. You should be thanking me. I’m the reason this thing’s about to turn some heads.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Cody chuckled, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. “Between you stirring the pot and Colby always running his mouth, it’s basically must-see TV.”

Colby finally caught up, hands in his pockets, his own smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey, my mouth pays the bills.”

“Yeah, and Y/N’s the one making you tolerable,” Cody fired back with a grin.

Colby barked out a laugh, giving Cody a light shove to his shoulder. “Don’t inflate her ego any more than it already is. Trust me, she doesn’t need it.”

Cody’s smile softened as his gaze flicked between the two of them. “So… does this mean things are good now? You guys— back on track?”

Y/N glanced at Colby, the answer in her eyes before she even said a word. Colby tilted his head, then gave a small nod. “We’re good. Not perfect, but… better. Getting back to normal.”

“Good,” Cody said simply, clapping Colby on the back in that firm, brotherly way. “That makes me happy. Seriously. You two belong raising hell together, not apart.”

“Aw, look at you being sentimental,” Y/N teased, rolling her eyes.

Cody chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. “Don’t get used to it. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Colby smirked faintly at that, and the three of them exchanged a few more pleasantries before Cody excused himself to prep for his segment. As they started walking again, Y/N slipped her hand back into Colby’s, letting the comfortable weight of it ground her. They were headed toward the makeup area for quick touch-ups, nothing extravagant, just part of the routine. But as they rounded the corner of the hallway, her steps faltered.

Her eyes caught on him immediately. Phil.

He was standing with a small group near one of the producers, his arm snug in that familiar tricep brace, though the sleek cut of his navy suit distracted from it. The fabric fit him perfectly, sharp lines accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. His dark hair was slicked back, neat in a way that made him look both polished and dangerous, and his smile— God, that smile— lit up his face as he laughed at something the producer said.

Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest. He looked… incredible. For a second, she couldn’t look away. She hated herself for it, hated the way her chest felt warm and fluttery, hated that her lips almost curved into a grin just from the sight of him. She tried to remind herself that Colby was right beside her, that she shouldn’t even be thinking these things. But Phil had always had this effect on her, like gravity, pulling her in whether she wanted it or not.

As though he could feel the weight of her stare, Phil’s head turned. His eyes locked onto hers, and the hallway seemed to still. Time stopped. Neither of them moved. Phil’s gaze lingered, deliberate and heavy, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. He didn’t look away. Instead, a slow smirk spread across his face, sharp and knowing. And then, just to twist the knife, he sent her a wink.

Heat rushed up her neck, blooming across her cheeks. She felt the flush betray her as she forced herself to look away, biting the inside of her cheek to fight off the grin threatening to break across her face. God, she hated him. Hated him for still managing to make her feel as giddy as she had in her twenties, when everything between them was reckless and burning.

Colby, oblivious, tugged gently at her hand, guiding her down the hallway. “C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s get this over with before they decide we need full glam.”

But Y/N’s pulse still thrummed in her ears, her thoughts tangled and dangerous. Phil Brooks still had her number. And she knew it.

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧* 

    Y/N smirks as Colby struts out onstage after Michael Cole and Pat McAfee introduce him. She stands comfortably backstage, Joe on her right, Paul on her left. Her outfit is a dark emerald green, coincidentally matching Seth’s sparkly suit as he revels in the audience singing his song. She smoothes over her glittery top, adjusting the leather pants that make her quads look huge. 

“I dunno if I should be offended they made you match with him or not,” Joe mumbles with a teasing tone. “Startin’ to question if you’re planning on leaving me for Raw or somethin’.”

Y/N freezes for a moment. She hasn’t mentioned leaving to Joe yet. She’s obviously been thinking about it for a while, but she hasn’t talked about it with any of the guys. Besides Josh, of course. She just smiles, looking up at him as Colby’s music cuts out. 

“Don’t be jealous,” she lightly shoves him. “I’m still standin’ by you aren’t I?” 

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder. “That’s one thing I’ll always be grateful for.” 

That’s when Colby’s cackle fills her ears. She glances at the monitor as he says a petty, “Still a pretty big pop, I’d say.” 

She can’t help but chuckle, Joe rolling his eyes. She slaps her best friend's chest, still laughing. “You walked into that one after talking your shit last week,” she chastises. “Don’t roll your eyes.” 

“Then tell your man to stop bein’ so damn dramatic,” he fires back as they walk closer towards the entrance, their cue coming up. 

“You tell him yourself,” Y/N fires back. “You guys had a bromance going on way before I was in the picture.” 

That’s when one of the producers nods their head at them. Colby says his line, calling Cody out there, and that’s when Roman’s music hits. Colby throws his head back, completely annoyed at the interruption. His title is slung over his shoulder as he waits for the arrival of the Tribal Chief. Y/S/N and Roman walk out from backstage, aura oozing out of them with every step. The crowd goes crazy, ones shooting up in the air as well as some chants for Y/S/N circulating around the room. 

Paul holds Roman’s title close to his chest, Y/N clutching hers as it’s draped over her shoulder as well. They absorb the crowd reaction for a moment before Roman sticks his hand out, waiting for Paul to hand him his championship. The Wise Man does his job, handing Roman what he requests. Roman raises the title high in the air, Y/S/N joining him, earning another loud pop from the audience. 

Roman hands his title back before taking the microphone from Heyman’s hand. Y/N places her title safely back on her shoulder, briefly looking at Colby who even with sunglasses, anyone could tell he was staring directly at her. The heat of his stare never failed to make her forget what she’s doing. 

“Las Vegas!” Roman’s booming voice pulls her back to the present. She plasters on her cocky smirk, confidence exuding from every pore in her body. “Acknowledge me!” 

Her finger shoots in the air, Roman nodding in approval at her. A mix of cheers and boos echoes around the room. Seth simply grins evilly before raising the microphone to his lips, “Hey guys… he showed up for work once.” The crowd gasps and applauds the dig. “I love to see it. Good to see you, big brother.” He says mockingly. 

Roman doesn’t hesitate, looking out to the crowd, “And he showed up to work in my right hand woman’s shoes.” 

Everyone shouts a loud “OH”, and Seth revels in it. He shimmies around in his shoes, which Y/N would never actually wear, but she can appreciate the humor. He grins, looking her up and down as he and Roman start talking over each other like two siblings in a rivalry would. Roman finally manages to sound louder than him, “Let’s talk about someone who actually matters right now.” 

There’s a mixture of Rocky and Cody chants in the audience. Roman waits a moment before saying, “Let’s talk about Cody Rhodes!” Another mixture of boos and cheers. “The man who can’t make his own decision.” Y/S/N sends an odd look her Tribal Chief’s way, hoping the audience picks up on her distaste. This long term storytelling is going to feed generations. 

“Mr. Hesitation. Here’s a life lesson kids, if you hesitate, your moment’s gonna move on. And that’s what’s happened to Cody Rhodes. It’s no longer his decision. It’s now your Tribal Chief’s decision.” Now that is met with more boos than anything. Seth stares at him with disbelief, Y/S/N sharing the same look. Almost as if she doesn’t approve of this tactic. She may not follow all the rules, but she’s always honored those who have earned their spot. “That’s exactly how it works, thank you.” He says in response to the haters. 

“So tonight, I choose who faces me at the main event of WrestleMania.” He soaks in the reaction before glancing over at Seth with a look of pure disdain. He waves him off like he means nothing, “Hey, get this bum outta here. Jus–just get this bum outta her already, huh?” 

Y/S/N subtly shifts away from Roman, taking a step closer to Seth. Only those really paying attention would pick up on it. Roman lifts his head up arrogantly, “I choose–” He pauses, allowing the crowd to voice who they think he should face between The Rock and Cody. “I choose– The Rock!” 

The crowd goes berserk in both a negative and positive way. Some people love the decision, others hate it. Seth starts shouting that’s not how this whole process works. Y/S/N takes a step towards Roman, in an almost defiant manner. She tells him that he can’t just pick his opponent. Cody won the Rumble. However, Roman doesn’t get to respond as the Rock’s music hits, making the crowd get even louder. 

Dwayne walks out, microphone already in hand. His presence is just so powerful that it takes everything in Y/N not to geek out along with the rest of the crowd. His entrances never fail to turn her into a fan girl. He walks to each side of the stage, raising his iconic eyebrow before going right back to the middle, between Roman and Seth.

He raises the microphone to his lips like he’s going to say something, but stops when the crowd grows louder. He glances over at Seth who puts his hands up, claiming he wasn’t saying anything bad about The Rock. That’s when he raises the mic back up, “Finally!” His gravelly voice announces. “The Rock has come back to Las Vegas!” Some people in the crowd scream it along with him, others trying to boo over him. Either way, the man is doing his job.

“Now, let The Rock ask you a question,” he starts. “Do you think that Roman Reigns is going to beat The Rock at WrestleMania?” Some people scream yes, others no. There’s not a lot of times where anyone in the WWE fandom agrees on anything, and this is no exception. There’s a large group of people who don’t even want The Rock versus Roman. They want Cody. And truthfully, Y/N does too. 

“Or do you think that The Rock is going to beat the Tribal Chief at WrestleMania?” There’s more boos in response to that, Roman crossing his arms with a smug shrug. The Rock clearly doesn’t like that response as the crowd starts chanting “We Want Cody” as well as “Rocky Sucks.” 

“Or do you think that The Rock and Roman Reigns will be the biggest Main Event in the history of WWE?”

No one would be able to dispute that. People boo out of their love and want for Cody. Y/N agrees and respects that, but truth be told, The Rock versus Roman would be a killer match. Everyone would watch. It wouldn’t only bring in wrestling fans, but it would also intrigue the fans of his outside of the WWE. It would also be huge watching two generational Superstars from different eras go at it. 

“All right,” Dwayne raises his hand. “I love the passion. The Rock loves the passion. So to members of the press, welcome. Glad you’re here. To the WWE universe–” he’s cut off again by more “We Want Cody” chants, stopping his sentence. “To the WWE universe, welcome. To everyone watching around the world, welcome. And certainly, to the millions of The Rock’s fans, welcome.” The people in the crowd add their own and millions to his statement. “And on top of that, to the members of the press, world watching, I introduce you to… the Cody Crybabies.” 

All of Cody’s fans cheer loudly, proud to show their support for the American Nightmare. Y/N has to fight off her smile. Cody worked for this. He earned this fanbase through blood, sweat, and tears. Through Dashing, Stardust, and so much more, he finally found his home. He found who he is and he’s the most beloved Superstar in all of WWE right now. 

Roman and Paul Heyman laugh at The Rock’s words, Y/S/N keeping her face straight. She watches as the camera catches her reaction, displaying it on the large screen behind them. This whole acting thing gets to be pretty fun in situations like this. 

“Now,” Dwayne continues. “Let The Rock show you all, and everyone around the world— I’m gonna show you something right now that is very important. It’s very cool. And I think you’re gonna like it a lot. But regardless whether you like it, or you don’t like it, you love it, or you hate it, one thing for damn sure, you are gonna respect it.” He raises his hand to the tron behind him, “Take a look.” 

The Bloodline family tree appears on the screen behind them. Everyone stares in awe at the amount of people in this family. Y/N’s seen the family tree, in fact she’s met a good portion of them during the holidays, but seeing the sheer size of this tree never ceases to amaze her. 

“When you look at this incredible family tree– and I want you to take a look at the very top of the tree.” He points up. “At the top of that tree, The Rock’s grandfather and Roman’s grandfather made a blood oath and our  family in Samoan said ‘Aiga. Aiga forever.’ And if you cannot see that, if you can’t see the fact that this is proof that there is only one dominant and powerful royal family in professional wrestling— if you can’t see that, and if you think that The Rock and Roman Reigns isn’t the biggest main event in the history of wrestlemania then– then– save your boos, save your boos.” He taunts the audience. “Then, if that’s what you think, in simple Rock speak: It doesn’t matter what you think.” 

The crowd boos him, but that type of reaction has never phased The Rock. “WrestleMania Forty. Philadelphia. The Rock and Roman Reigns, the Universal champion versus the People’s champion. Whether you like it or you don’t like it, the People’s champion, in the biggest main event in the history of professional wrestling. Bound by blood.” He raises his hand in the air, prompting Roman to link his hand with his. The two men hug, sharing a nod of mutual respect. 

Y/S/N runs a hand over her face, Seth pacing in disbelief not even a foot away from her. It’s clear she’s not happy with what just transpired. She can hear the faint cheers of her name from her fans down below. They want her to say something. They can see her holding back. But she’s biding her time. They have no idea what they’re in for yet. 

“Hold on, hold on,” Cody’s voice cuts through the tension like a hot knife through butter. The crowd goes wild when they see the Nightmare stroll out in his perfectly tailored gray suit. Seth throws his hands up in a “finally” motion, irritated it took him this long to finally come out here. “This. This right here is bullshit!” 

The crowd goes crazy, the use of profanity not as common in WWE as it once was. Y/S/N smirks as she watches Cody’s anger grow. She hosts her championship up a little more, hip cocking to the side as she watches this all unfold. Colby raises a hand to his head, scratching it as the curse word flies from Cody’s mouth. 

He points at The Rock and Roman, the crowd chanting his name. “Roman!” He walks over to the Head of the Table. “Roman, you’re out here calling the shots, dictating WrestleMania forty. And as the Tribal Chief, as the Undisputed Champion, you have a lot of stroke. But it is not your right, it is not your distinction to determine the main event. It is mine. I won the royal rumble!” 

The audience shouts in agreement. Y/S/N also voices her agreement to Roman, telling him it’s not right to take away what Cody fought for. But his eyes are solely zeroed in on Cody. The American Nightmare turns his attention to The Rock. “And Rock, we had a wonderful conversation. I had many conversations. I have made my decision.” There’s a long stretch of silence as Cody looks between Seth and Roman, allowing the suspense to build. 

“At WrestleMania forty in the Main Event… I choose you, Roman Reigns.” Cody points directly at the Tribal Chief. 

The audience starts cheering loudly. Roman looks completely bewildered. Seth is clearly disappointed. But Y/N just stands there with that same smirk on her face, head titled as she chuckles quietly. 

Roman lifts his mic, “You must be crazy,” he insults. “You must be stupid or somethin’, huh? This is a done deal,” he gestures between himself and The Rock. “You’re old news. Go over there with the number two’s. The number two table will have you now,” he waves dismissively over to Seth. “Loser bracket. Right there with in dummy in green. Just go. Leave. You’re embarrassing yourself now. Last year was your year. That was your moment. You were only a chapter in my book. Nobody cares about your story, nobody cares about you finishing the story. You’re embarrassing your entire family now. You— just understand this— you’re irrelevant.” 

Cody tries to cut in, but Roman’s next words stop him cold. “Just like your dad.”

Cody’s smile is dangerous, biting. He narrows his eyes at Roman, “Here you are— here you are talking about family. Is that what the Bloodline is?” He questions mockingly. “Let me ask you a question… How’s Jey?” The crowd screams at those words. Y/S/N raises her eyebrows, looking between Roman and Cody as the tension starts to rise. “It’s not a family. You’re a meal ticket. And they are nothing but lackeys, but yes men. They’re goons!” He points between Roman and The Rock, “And what is this match all about right here? Who sits at the head of the table? What does it matter when neither of you have been doing any of the cooking for the past two years?!” 

More cheers from the crowd. Cody is on fire. It’s always a treat getting to see him do his thing on the mic. One of the only men in WWE who could almost hold a light to John Cena’s mic skills. The other is in the green suit a few feet away, and the next is up with the rest of the commentary team in his arm brace. 

“Earlier we had that family tree up there,” Cody points to the tron. “And you’ve invoked my father before, so let me go and do the same. If your grandfather was here,” he looks to Dwayne, “if the High Chief, his grandfather was here… they’d be ashamed of you.” 

Roman’s jaw tightens. Triple H watches carefully, as does everyone else in the venue. That’s when The Rock drops his microphone and takes a step towards Cody. Cody looks in between him and Roman, almost confused as to why he’s stepping up to him. However, what no one in the audience was expecting was for Y/N to step in between Dwayne and Cody Rhodes. 

Y/N didn’t think twice as she stepped forward, heels clicking against the stage floor as she slid between Cody and Dwayne. Her emerald-clad figure cut the tension like a knife, her championship glinting under the lights as she lifted a hand toward The Rock. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—” Her voice rang clear over the crowd noise, even as their roar swelled. “We don’t need to do this.”

The audience’s reaction shifted, buzzing with curiosity as she planted herself in front of Cody, her free hand pushing lightly against his chest to keep him from lunging forward. She tilted her chin up, eyes sharp as she addressed The Rock. “You want to talk about family? Fine. But let’s not get selective about it.” Her gaze flicked toward Roman, her tone sharp but steady. “He brought up Cody’s dad first. That door was kicked open and splintered. That line in the sand was blurred. So if we wanna call it an even playing field—then it’s even now. No need to stoop lower than we already have. This is supposed to be civil.”

The crowd reacted loudly, half cheers, half boos, loving the tension but hanging on her every word. Cody stared down at her in disbelief, protective but grateful, while Seth smirked faintly from the side, almost proud she had the guts to stand up in this moment.

Y/N turned her focus back toward Roman, then The Rock. “Cody won the Rumble. He earned the right to pick. Whether you like it or not, that’s the reality. And if we’re gonna stand here, on this stage, in front of the world— then let’s show the world what it means to actually represent this company.”

The crowd popped hard at that, an unusual moral high ground from someone often so cocky. But Dwayne didn’t budge. His eyes narrowed, the electricity in his presence shifting from playful to dangerous. Roman stepped forward, frustration flashing across his face. Without warning, he reached out and yanked Y/N back by the arm, pulling her out of the way.

She stumbled, catching herself before falling, the championship sliding against her shoulder. The crowd exploded, boos crashing like thunder at the sight of Roman manhandling her.

That was when The Rock struck. He closed the space in two steps, his voice booming into the microphone as he stared straight into Cody’s eyes. “Let me make something perfectly clear to you.” His words rolled heavy, dripping with venom. “When you talk about his family…” He jabbed a finger toward Roman. “…you’re talking about my family. When you talk about his ancestors, you’re talking about my ancestors. And when you talk about his blood, you’re talking about my blood.” His tone sharpened into a growl. “So now we got a problem.”

And then, before anyone could react— SLAP! The sound cracked across the mic, Cody’s head snapping to the side. The arena erupted. Screams, boos, chants, chaos. Cody staggered, fury flaring in his eyes.

That’s when all hell broke loose. Seth lunged at Roman, shoving him back with both hands, shouting obscenities that the mic barely caught. Roman shoved him right back, the two nearly coming to blows before security and officials swarmed the stage. Adam Pearce was barking orders, Nick Aldis grabbed Roman by the chest, and Triple H himself stormed in, immediately getting between Cody and The Rock.

Y/N was frozen for half a second, eyes wide as she tried to process the slap. Then something in her snapped. She surged forward and swung, a fake but convincing shot that connected with The Rock’s jaw. The crowd went wild, the sound deafening, disbelief and exhilaration mixing into one roar.

Her mic picked up her voice, fierce and sharp: “I don’t know where you’ve been the last eight years, but this isn’t how The Bloodline represents!”

Roman’s head whipped around at her, fury etched across his face. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, shoving past Nick Aldis to get to her.

He grabbed at her wrist, but before he could yank her again, Seth slid in between them, chest puffed out, arms wide like a human shield. His shades had fallen askew, his smirk gone, he was dead serious now.

Roman snarled past him, pointing a finger at Y/N. “Fall in line, Y/S/N.” His voice was thunder. “You hear me? Fall in line.”

Y/N’s chest heaved, her emerald-green outfit sparkling under the blinding lights as she raised her mic with trembling hands. Her voice didn’t waver. “Not until you straighten up whatever the hell is wrong with you right now.”

The crowd lost their minds. Roman’s face contorted with rage, but before he could lash out again, Seth wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders and tugged her back, his glare locked on Roman the whole time. “C’mon,” Seth muttered low, voice rough but steady, his hand protective on her back as he guided her offstage.

Y/N didn’t look back. She clutched her title tighter against her chest, her chin raised defiantly, walking out at Seth’s side as the arena’s noise swelled to an uncontrollable peak. The last shot the cameras caught before cutting was Roman seething, The Rock’s jaw clenched, Cody standing tall despite the sting on his face, and Y/N exiting with Seth, emerald green flashing under the lights, leaving the Bloodline shaken in her wake.

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧* 

     The camera cut back to ringside, where the commentary team sat, the roar of the crowd still refusing to die down. Pat McAfee was leaning so far forward he looked like he might launch himself onto the table.

“Somebody pinch me, because there is no way we just saw Y/S/N knock the taste out of The Rock’s mouth!” Pat’s voice cracked with laughter, one hand clutching his headset. “Of all people— the Great One himself!”

Michael Cole shook his head, still trying to piece the chaos together for the audience at home. “It wasn’t just The Rock, Pat. Let’s not forget— Cody Rhodes took a shot too. And all of this chaos, it’s starting to feel like we’re building toward something bigger. We’ve got Roman Reigns, we’ve got The Rock, we’ve got Seth Rollins, Cody Rhodes—”

“Say it plain, Michael,” Big E cut in, grinning so wide it was infectious. “You’re talking about a tag match. Cody and Seth versus Roman and Rock. That’s where this train is headed. You can feel it.”

Cole gave a half-nod, half-sigh. “It certainly seems that way.”

Before he could continue, Punk finally leaned into his microphone, his voice low but cutting through the noise like a knife. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s all fine and good, but can we stop pretending anything tonight is bigger than the fact Y/S/N just punched The Rock?”

The crowd, still fired up, gave another loud cheer as if on cue, and Punk tilted his head toward the ring, grinning for the first time all night. “You don’t understand. I’ve waited my whole career to see somebody do that. I would’ve done the exact same thing in her shoes. Maybe harder.”

Pat slapped the table. “YES! YES! Finally somebody said it!” He was nearly doubled over laughing. “She decked The Rock. Nobody does that! NOBODY.”

Big E couldn’t stop shaking his head. “And it wasn’t even some cheap shot. No hesitation, no fear. She looked him in the eye and swung like she meant it. That’s… man, that’s legendary.”

Cole tried to bring the conversation back on track. “Look, let’s not get carried away. Roman Reigns is already calling the World Heavyweight Championship the ‘second-place title.’ He’s mocking Seth Rollins, he’s mocking everything that championship stands for—”

Punk cut him off, his tone snapping sharp again. “Yeah, well, let’s talk about Seth Rollins for a second. He went on national TV and said he hated my guts. No love lost there. But if Seth actually wants to shut Roman up? He needs to stop playing fashion week on Monday nights and take his balls out of his purse long enough to punch somebody in the face.”

The table erupted, Pat slamming his hands down, Big E throwing his head back laughing. Cole groaned, burying his face in his notes. “Come on!” Punk barked, jabbing a finger toward the hard camera. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me Roman’s not daring him, begging him, to hit back. And instead, who’s the only one throwing punches tonight? Y/S/N. Not Seth. Not Cody. Y/S/N. And she did it to The Rock.”

Pat’s voice cracked again, half-yelling, half-laughing. “She did what half the locker room’s been DREAMING of doing for years!”

Big E leaned into his mic, chuckling. “Man, she just skyrocketed into another stratosphere. I don’t know if she knows what she’s started, but I do know one thing— people are never gonna forget tonight.”

Punk smirked again, eyes flicking to the ring. “Good. They shouldn’t.”

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧* 

     Paul Levesque’s steps echoed off the concrete hallway as they moved quickly, weaving through production staff and crew. He didn’t slow for anything, not even her occasional sideways glance or half-grin. “Kid,” he said, voice low but firm, “that punch you just threw? Money. Perfect execution. Everybody loved it. The crowd is eating it up.”

Y/N smirked, tugging her hoodie a little tighter around herself. “Thanks, Paul. I was nervous it’d look… weird or like I overdid it.”

“Overdid it?” Paul barked a short laugh. “You? No chance. But we can’t just leave it at that. We need momentum. Social media, viral clips, stuff that spreads faster than wildfire. That’s where you come in.”

Y/N tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “You’re saying I need to do what exactly?”

Paul slowed for just a fraction, leaning in. “We want you and Roman outside. Confront him, be loud, be furious— make it so a fan can catch it. Somebody’s gonna record. Somebody’s gonna post. And it’s gonna blow up.”

“Outside?” she asked, skepticism in her voice. “You’re sure that’ll work?”

Paul nodded firmly. “We’ve got to have hope. You meet him out back, make noise, get in his face, and let the scene sell itself. Fans will do the rest.”

Y/N’s lips pressed together, a spark lighting in her eyes. “Got it.”

Without another word, she turned and stormed toward the exit. She inhaled the cool night air, letting it sharpen her senses. Every step put her deeper into her character, her mind already replaying the anger and frustration she was about to unleash.

The crunch of heavy boots echoed behind her, and she knew before she saw him. Roman Reigns emerged from the corner, hoodie shadowing his eyes but not hiding the glare that could cut steel.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he growled, voice like rolling thunder. “You think you can just walk out here, defy me? Put your hands on my blood, on my cousin, and then stroll around with one of my sworn enemies? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Y/N squared her shoulders, tilting her chin up. “You know exactly who I am, Roman. And don’t try to act like this is about loyalty or family. You’re scared. You’re scared of Cody, so you hide behind your title and your mouth instead of actually earning respect.”

Roman’s jaw tightened, nostrils flaring. “I am the Head of the Table. I make the rules. You don’t walk out here and lecture me on honor. You don’t touch my family and talk back. You don’t—”

“I did what I had to,” she snapped, cutting him off. “I’m not here to cower, not here to play second fiddle. The Bloodline’s always held themselves to higher standards, which is why we’ve run this company for as long as we have. Bayley won the Rumble. I face her at WrestleMania because that’s the rules. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t complain. I didn’t try to run around and take someone else’s shot. You? You’re using your power like a shield, not like a crown.”

Roman’s lips curled, venom creeping in. “And your precious little relationship with Rollins? That makes you feel brave enough to talk back to me?”

Y/N’s gaze hardened, fury burning in her chest. “That’s none of your business. And you know it. Keep your jealousy to yourself.”

Roman stepped closer, the heat of him almost physical. “You think you can just talk to me like that? Walk out here like you’re my equal? I made you.” He sneers. “You hit my cousin, you walk with my enemy, and you think that gives you the right to lecture me?”

“You didn’t make me,” she barks back. “I created every ounce of my career with my own blood. You were just lucky enough I chose to stand by you,” she hissed, “You’ve called me your right hand for years, so that gives me the right. The right to call out power when it’s abused. You don’t get to run everything because you’re afraid. You don’t want to fight Cody? That’s too damn bad. He won the Royal Rumble, so he gets to call his shot. So why don’t you grow a pair and actually fight for that title you parade around. Don’t hide behind your intimidation and your history.”

His voice dropped, low and dangerous, each word a blade. “You’re not even blood. So what the hell do you know about how the Bloodline should represent itself?”

The words hit her like a punch. Not Joe, Joe had made it clear she was family since day one, but Roman? Roman’s gaze was ice, sharp, unwavering. Her chest tightened, every muscle in her body screaming, but she forced the anger into action.

She leaned in, shoulder ramming into his chest, hard enough to stagger him a step. “Blood doesn’t make family, Roman. Actions do. You want respect? Earn it. Not with fear, not with threats, not with this—” She gestured between them, “this charade of entitlement.”

Fans from nearby corners whispered and fumbled with phones, capturing every second. “Holy shit,” one muttered. “She just shoved him!” “Post that, post that now!” “This is insane.”

Y/N didn’t look back. She stormed inside, boots clicking on concrete, the night air fading behind her. By the time the door swung shut, her face was set, her chest still heaving, but the damage was done. Phones were out, whispers were loud, and within minutes, the clip was already viral. And Roman? He was left standing under the streetlights, chest heaving, jaw tight, and pride stinging.

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧* 

     The locker room had the buzz of after-show adrenaline, laughter bouncing off concrete walls, talent weaving in and out, still sweaty from the lights onstage. Y/N leaned against the doorframe with Colby at her side, the two of them getting pulled into quick handshakes, hugs, and congratulations from everyone who passed. The air smelled faintly of hairspray, coffee, and that sharp tang of pyro smoke that always seemed to stick to the walls.

Cody came strolling up, still grinning ear to ear, his forehead shining under the fluorescent lights. He slapped his palm into hers with a loud clap before drawing her into one of those half-hug, half-handshake things that had long since become their thing.

“Hell of a night,” Cody said, his voice warm and proud, almost brotherly. “But I gotta know…” He tilted his head at her with a little smirk. “Did you actually punch Dwayne? Because the way the place popped— I swear, it sounded like you just knocked the absolute hell outta him.”

Y/N laughed, holding her hands up like she was innocent. “No, no, no. Come on. You think I’d actually break my fist on The Rock’s jaw? We went over it earlier today. Whole thing was planned— timing, angle, all of it. We just wanted to make it look cool without him actually eating a shot.”

Cody’s grin widened as he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You pulled it off. That was picture-perfect. I talked to Demi, apparently everyone back here was losing their minds. Hell, I was trying not to lose my mind out there.”

She beamed at the praise, feeling a rush of pride, and went into their ridiculous handshake routine that ended with them both snapping their fingers and pointing at each other like complete idiots. Cody laughed, shaking his head as he headed off down the hall. “Star of the damn show, as always. Don’t forget that.”

Colby had been leaning against the wall during all of this, arms crossed over his chest, but the fond look he gave her was impossible to miss. His eyes followed every laugh she gave, every bounce of excitement in her movements. He didn’t say a word until Cody disappeared down the corridor. Then, as naturally as breathing, he slipped his hand into hers and tugged her gently toward the exit.

They made their way out of the building, weaving through the last few stragglers in production headsets, until a familiar figure caught them at the loading dock.

Joe leaned against the barricade, phone in hand and a big grin plastered on his face. “We trending already. Our little standoff outside? Number one on X, baby.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide before she burst into laughter, slapping his hand in a quick high five. “No way!”

“Way.” Joe pulled her in for a quick hug. “Drama’s officially kicked off. We killed it tonight.”

She practically bounced in place, hugging him back. The energy of it all, the fact that it was working, that their story was sparking fire already, it made her chest buzz with adrenaline.

Colby just stood back with that quiet smile of his, letting her soak in the moment before Joe waved them off. “Go celebrate, you two. You earned it.”

They walked hand in hand toward the rental car, the cool night air brushing over them, the noise of the arena fading behind. Y/N felt Colby’s eyes on her, heavier than usual, burning a hole into her side profile. She tilted her head, suddenly self-conscious, nerves tickling the back of her neck.

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Nothin’. Just… proud of you.” He tugged her closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “You’re killin’ it out there, like always. It’s— hell, it’s amazing getting to watch it up close.”

The words should’ve made her heart soar. Instead, guilt coiled tighter in her chest. She hadn’t been able to shake the weight of what she’d done, the kiss with Phil lingering like a bruise. His praise made it sting sharper.

Colby felt her shift beside him, the way her energy dipped. He frowned, glancing down. “Hey. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” she deflected too quickly.

He snorted. “Don’t give me that. You think I don’t know you by now?” His grip on her hand tightened. “Talk to me.”

Her throat burned. Finally, she let the words out. “I hate what I did to you. Standing here, having you be so nice, so loving— it just makes me feel worse. I don’t deserve it.”

Colby stopped walking, turning her to face him fully. His voice came low, steadier than she expected. “Stop. You made a mistake. Doesn’t mean I stopped lovin’ you.”

Her breath caught. They’d never said it before.

Her eyes lifted slowly. “You… love me?”

For a second, panic flashed across his face like he wished he could rewind the words. But there was no way back. He swallowed, squared his shoulders, and said it without a flinch. “Yeah. I do.”

The admission made something bright and unstoppable burst inside her. She smiled so big it almost hurt. The words tumbled out before she even thought about them. “I love you too.”

Colby let out a ragged laugh, pure relief in it, like he’d been holding his breath for months. He leaned in, kissing her hard, then pressed his forehead to hers. “Good,” he muttered, grinning against her lips. “’Cause now we got even more reason to go celebrate. Dinner’s on me.”

                 ✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧* 

      The restaurant was low-lit, warm, tucked far enough away from the Vegas strip that it felt almost private. Y/N and Colby were still in their matching green fits from the kickoff, a detail the waitress noticed immediately, grinning as she set down their menus. “Y’all look like you just stepped out of a magazine,” she teased.

Colby smirked, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. “Oh, we know. We planned it.” He shot Y/N a wink that earned him an eye roll.

They ordered drinks, and by the time the cocktails hit the table, the nerves from the chaos earlier had started to settle. Colby reached across the table, dragging his thumb along her knuckles. “I gotta say, babe… I’m hyped to see where this thing goes. You standing up to Roman? That’s some big-time stuff.”

Y/N smiled, a spark of pride warming her chest. “Yeah, it feels good to finally incorporate a spicier side of me into the mix like that. I’m excited too.”

“Excited?” Colby leaned in, dropping his voice to that smug lilt he always carried in promos. “C’monnn, that’s underselling it. You’re about to light this whole place on fire. Tribal Chief better watch his back.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

They ordered food, joking back and forth, Colby throwing out ridiculous impressions of Roman until she nearly spit her drink out. At one point he rested his chin in his palm, watching her laugh, and his smirk softened into something gentler. “Hey,” he said, quieter now. “For real. I appreciate you. We’ve had… our bumps this week, sure. But the fact you’re willing to work through it with me?” He shrugged, grin tugging at his mouth. “Means the world, Y/N.”

She tilted her head, touched by the honesty. “Colby, if anyone should be grateful, it’s me. I don’t even know what I did to deserve you, but I’m damn glad I have you.”

“Good,” he teased, spearing an appetizer and popping it into his mouth.

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in his gaze lingered. When he finally stood, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, her chest ached. “Bathroom run,” he murmured. “Don’t miss me too much.”

The second he disappeared, her phone buzzed on the table. Her stomach dropped. The screen lit up with one word that made her pulse stutter.

Punker.

Her throat went dry, but her thumb betrayed her, swiping before she could stop herself.

“Sweetheart,” Punk’s voice came through, low and familiar, tinged with a smirk she could hear without seeing. “That kickoff was insane. You — punching Dwayne? Highlight of the night.”

She laughed softly, forcing normalcy. “It looked good, right? We worked it out ahead of time.”

“Looked more than good,” he countered. “Looked like you actually rocked him. Not gonna lie, I popped. Hard.”

Her cheeks flushed despite herself. “Well… mission accomplished then.”

There was a beat, then his voice dropped lower, sly. “Still hate the matching thing with Rollins, though. But…” he exhaled, almost like he was picturing it. “You in that green? Damn. You wore the hell outta it.”

Her lips curved, unbidden. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously honest,” he shot back. But then his tone shifted, catching something in her clipped answers, her too-fast laughs. “Why do you sound like you’re whispering? Where’s Loverboy?”

Her breath hitched. “He just went to the bathroom. We’re, uh… we’re at dinner.”

“Dinner,” Punk repeated flatly. Then quieter, more dangerous: “And you’re rushing me off the phone like last time when you were sequestered to his hotel bathroom. What’s going on?”

Y/N closed her eyes. The guilt weighed heavy, pressing into her ribs. “…Colby doesn’t want me talking to you alone anymore.”

Silence. Then a sharp laugh crackled through the speaker. “Of course he doesn’t. Figures.”

“Phil—”

“No, no,” he cut her off, voice rising. “He doesn’t get to control who you talk to. What the hell is that?”

She winced, glancing toward the bathroom, heart hammering. “After what we did… after the kiss— his reaction makes sense. I can’t blame him.”

Punk scoffed so hard it made her grip the phone tighter. “Makes sense? Sweetheart, come on. He doesn’t get to put a leash on you because you slipped once.”

Her throat burned. “It’s not just a slip, Punk. I care about him. I can’t keep hurting people I care about.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Then his voice came back, quieter but cutting. “So what is it? You hurting him… or him hurting you?”

The question hung between them like glass, sharp and fragile. Her lips parted, but no words came. She couldn’t answer.She ended the call instead, setting the phone face down on the table. Her chest heaved, guilt and confusion clawing up her throat. Just as Colby’s hand brushed her shoulder on his way back to his seat, she forced her best smile.

Colby lowered himself down to one knee in front of her, not dramatic like a proposal, but steady, deliberate. His hands reached for hers, warm and a little rough, his thumb brushing over her knuckles like he needed the contact to keep himself grounded.

“Hey,” he said softly, searching her face with those sharp brown eyes that usually carried arrogance in the ring but, right now, carried nothing but vulnerability. “I don’t think you realize how much it meant to me when you agreed not to go around Phil on your own.”

His mouth twisted a little at the name, like it tasted bitter just to say it.

“It wasn’t about control, or me trying to be some asshole laying down rules,” he went on, his voice low, almost pleading. “It’s just—he’s got this way of… digging into people, you know? Twisting things, making everything about him. That’s who he is. And I can’t—” he shook his head, exhaling hard through his nose. “I can’t let him be some kind of parasite on what we’ve got. I don’t want him anywhere near us. Near you.”

He squeezed her hands a little tighter, leaning in closer, like he needed her to feel the truth in his words. “I don’t want casual with you,” Colby said, his tone firm now, conviction cutting through the nerves. “I don’t want to mess around, or explore, or figure out if there’s something better out there. I already know. I just want you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The sincerity in his voice, the way his thumb kept circling against her skin, the way his eyes softened when they locked on hers, it pulled at something deep inside her. Something dangerous. For a moment, she let herself get swept up in it. “I just want you too,” she whispered back before she could stop herself, the lie slipping out so smoothly it almost sounded true.

Colby’s lips parted in relief, a shaky smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closing like he’d been holding his breath for weeks and finally let it out.