One shots || WWE

Cm punk - old allies, new wars

The locker room was eerily quiet for once, a stark contrast to the usual chaos of backstage. Y/N sat on the bench, lacing up her boots with sharp, jerky movements. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to have this conversation with him.

CM Punk—Phil—was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with that frustratingly calm expression he always wore. He knew she was upset. He knew exactly why, too.

"You're being quiet," he finally said, his voice low and steady.

Y/N didn't look up. "I don't have anything to say."

"Bullshit," Punk shot back, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "You always have something to say."

Her hands stilled for a moment before she sighed, finally meeting his gaze. "Fine. You want to hear it? I think it's a terrible idea."

"You don't even know the whole story," he said, folding his arms again.

"I know enough," Y/N replied sharply, standing up and crossing the small distance between them. "You're joining Roman for War Games. Roman."

Punk didn't flinch under her glare, but his jaw tightened slightly. "It's not just Roman. It's a team decision."

"Don't," she warned, pointing a finger at him. "Don't try to spin this like it's some strategic masterstroke. You know what he's like. You know what he did."

"And I also know that this is business, Y/N," Punk countered, his voice rising slightly. "I don't have to like him to work with him. This is about winning."

Y/N scoffed, taking a step back. "Winning. Right. Because that's all that matters, right? Forget the fact that Roman and I were supposed to have each other's backs. Forget the fact that he dropped me like I meant nothing the second it suited him. Forget the fact that—"

She cut herself off, swallowing hard. Her chest ached with the weight of the memories she tried so hard to bury.

Punk's expression softened, and he took a cautious step toward her. "Y/N..."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "You don't get to defend him. Not to me."

"I'm not defending him," Punk said quietly. "I'm trying to make you see that this isn't personal. It's about the bigger picture."

"Well, it sure as hell feels personal to me," Y/N muttered, crossing her arms.

Punk sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked at her for a long moment, as if trying to find the right words.

"Look," he said finally, "I get it. Roman hurt you. He broke your trust. And I hate that. I hate seeing you like this. But you know me, Y/N. I wouldn't have agreed to this if I didn't think it was the right move."

She frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly. "So what? You expect me to just smile and cheer you on while you stand side by side with him?"

"I expect you to trust me," Punk said simply. "The same way I trust you, even when I don't always understand your decisions."

Y/N's frown deepened, but she didn't say anything.

"And for what it's worth," he added, his voice softening even more, "I'm not doing this for Roman. I'm doing it for us—for our future here. You and me, we've got a lot of ground to cover. This is just one step."

She hated that he was making sense. Hated that his calm, rational tone was chipping away at her anger.

But more than that, she hated the idea of him being dragged into Roman's orbit, into the toxic web of control and manipulation she'd barely escaped.

"I don't like it," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," Punk replied, stepping closer and gently taking her hands in his. "But you don't have to like it. You just have to believe in me."

Y/N looked down at their joined hands, her resolve wavering. She wanted to stay mad. She wanted to scream and fight and make him see how much this hurt. But deep down, she knew he was right.

She sighed, leaning her forehead against his chest. "You're lucky I love you, you know that?"

A small smile tugged at Punk's lips as he wrapped his arms around her. "I do know that. And I'm lucky as hell."

They stood there in silence for a moment, the tension slowly melting away.

"Just promise me one thing," Y/N said, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

"Anything," Punk said without hesitation.

"Don't let him get in your head," she said, her voice firm. "Roman doesn't play fair. He's always thinking three steps ahead."

Punk nodded, his expression serious. "I know. And I promise, I've got this."

Y/N searched his eyes for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

"Okay," he repeated, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

As they stood there, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unease in her chest. She wanted to believe him—she did. But she also knew Roman better than most.

And if there was one thing she'd learned, it was that nothing with Roman Reigns was ever as simple as it seemed.