Super Psycho Love | Nikki & Brock |

[1]

Something lately drives me crazy

Has to do with how you make me

Struggle to get your attention

Calling you brings apprehension

| Brock |

My eyes dart to the screen where the Divas Champion has Naomi firmly on her shoulders, setting up for the Rack Attack. She hits the finisher, laying Naomi flat out in the center of the ring.

One.

Two.

Three.

"Here is your winner, the Divas Champion, Nikki Bella!"

She celebrates her win in the ring, now joined by her twin sister, Brie. Nikki runs a hand through her hair and holds up her title with the other. Swiftly exiting the ring, title now perched over her shoulder, she makes her way backstage.

There's my cue.

I approach the champ backstage near her locker room. But with Brie at her heels, I won't be able to do what I had originally planned.

"Nicole, nice work out there," I compliment. I try to look her in the eye, but as you know, it's pretty difficult.

"Leave me alone," she tries to push past me, not succeeding. I shift my body to entirely block the door.

"What's the password?" I smirk, earning a glare from both twins.

"Get the hell out of my way, Lesnar," Nikki warns, danger in her voice. Brie folds her arms across her chest and nods.

"Nope," I answer.

"Don't make me get Triple H," she reacts quickly.

"Babe, I'm not afraid of our boss, he's afraid of me," I tell her. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

"Do not call me 'babe'," Nikki attempts to push my arm out of the way, again, failing miserably.

"I call you whatever I want to call you," letting her know who's in charge.

Brie gets fed up about this conversation, and picks up her phone. Both Nikki and I focus our attention on her.

"Hello, It's Brianna."

We hear some faint mumbling.

"Yeah, uh, can you get over here and tell Brock Lesnar to get out of our way? He's blocking our locker room."

More mumbling.

"Great, thanks," Brie hangs up and slips the phone in her pocket, grinning.

Within minutes, Paul Levesque pops up out of no where and has a scowl across his face.

"Lesnar," the CEO of the company booms, "move, the ladies need to get in the locker room and change up. You have a match next, too."

I give him an annoyed look, and walk off, leaving the ladies standing in front of the locker room, staring at me.

| Nikki |

"What a freak," Brie mutters, before opening the door and entering the locker room. I follow her and silently agree.

"What did you ever see in him?" Brie asks, disgusted by his strange behavior.

"I have no idea," I really don't.

What did I ever see in him? He's Brock Lesnar. The Beast Incarnate. The Conqueror. The One in 21-1.

"Nikki?"

Yes, Brock and I used to be an item. And yes, the ending of our relationship wasn't the most usual one.

"Nikki!"

I snap my head to face Brie, shocking me back to reality, "What?!"

"Are you okay?" she speaks with concern.

"Yeah, I'm good. Can I be alone?" I say, trying not to offend her. She doesn't seem much affected by it, because of the way she nods her head and exits. I'm alone in the Bella locker room.

The television is on, and the infamous music of Lesnar blares. I quietly take a seat on the leather couch and face the screen.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Paul Heyman," the shorter fellow announces through a microphone.

Brock and Paul stand in the ring, Brock is pacing back and forth.

"My client, Brock Lesnar-"

I pick up the remote and mute the T.V., not wanting to hear his long and boring speech.

Leaning back, I shut my eyes and start the flashbacks in my mind. Maybe this isn't such a great idea.

I'm tossed violently on the bed, but I'm loving it. He knows that I like it rough. He climbs on top of me, practically ripping my shirt and shorts off at the same time. Off go his clothes, and what's left of mine. He gets his protection on, and I am immediately introduced to the Beast. Hard and fast thrusts cause me to scream and moan.

"Brock!"

"Louder," he insists, and louder I get.

Thankfully, I shake myself out of my flashback. Ugh, why did my mind go back to that moment? Why?

Another memory flows through my brain.

"Ziggler's nothing," Brock puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder, kissing my forehead lightly. Who knew that someone that scary could be so compassionate.

I cry on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his neck. He rubs my back and holds me close.

Nick (Dolph) and I broke up the night before, me catching him sneaking around with Alicia Fox. Brock was there for me after Nick and I broke up, but I wouldn't quite consider him a rebound. He and I didn't start dating until months after that incident.

Another flashback begins,

"Nicole," he grabs my hands and looks me in the eye. "let me be your man, I want you to be mine. Will you be my girlfriend?" I nod slowly, smiling ear to ear.

"Yes," my voice cracks, "of course." Under the huge oak tree behind his house in Minnesota, he leans down and kisses my lips. I kiss back, and leap into his strong arms.

I was 27 years old when we first started dating, our relationship lasted for a little bit over a year. It's been about four years since the break up. All of these memories are flooding through my head, making my head spin, but none of them compare to this one;

"Marry me, Nicole," he has my hand in his, he's on one knee, and pulls out the diamond ring. "Make me become the luckiest man alive and be mine forever, I love you."

I can only bob my head up and down, because I am absolutely speechless. Tears flow and I don't try to hold them back. This was our first year anniversary, at the exact spot where we first kissed three hundred and sixty-five days before. Right under the oak tree behind his house. The future Mrs. Nicole Lesnar.

Engaged. Brock Lesnar and I were ENGAGED.

Where did it all go wrong?

. . . . . . . .