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Beauty Loses

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Being the Raw women’s champion was the best three months of my life. Three glorious months of me being at the top of the women’s roster, three months of me going out to the ring and putting on the best matches of my life with Braun, my lovable Beast by my side.

But just as quickly as good things can happen to you in this company, the switch can be flipped and terrible things can come towards you just as quickly.


Wrestlemania: the biggest pay-per-view of the year. I had a match to defend my title against Nia Jax, and Braun had a title match earlier in the night. He was up against Roman Reigns for the Universal Title, something we had been building up toward for the past month and a half.

“Oooohh, it’s the most powerful couple in the WWE,” Bayley joked, sitting next to me and Braun in catering. Braun was calm and collected. I, however, was a mess of nerves and fear. This was his first title match and I had no idea how it was slated to go.

“We’re not the most powerful couple yet,” Braun laughed, rubbing circles on my back.

“But you will be. You’ll put Steph and Trips to shame,” Bayley sighed wistfully.

“If I win tonight, that is,” Braun replied.

“You’ll win. You have to win. Right? You’re gonna win,” I said, leg bouncing furiously under the table.

“Someone’s nervous,” he said to Bayley, hand falling to my knee to keep it still.

“I am not nervous,” I defended, leg still shaking underneath Braun’s hand. “Because you’re gonna win. You have to win. You have to.”

“I’m sure he’ll win,” Bayley told me, nodding. “He’ll win and you’ll retain and you two will be the cutest championship-wielding couple this company has ever seen.”

“The cutest championship-wielding couple,” I agreed, nodding. My hand gripped onto Braun’s still on my knee, squeezing as my leg finally stopped shaking. Braun smiled, fingers tightening around mine before turning back to Bayley, starting up a conversation about something. I couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying, my brain only concerned with how his match was going to pan out.


I was banned from ringside during Braun’s match, so instead I stood in front of the monitor in gorilla, watching intently. I was all ready for my match, makeup done and in my gear. There was only one match between mine and Braun’s, and I didn’t want to miss any time to spend with Braun after his match. Sparing a glance at the time, I realized his match was nearing the end of its time limit. I was panicking, the match going back and forth, no clear winner, until finally Braun got Roman pinned, hooking his leg. Time seemed to slow down as the ref hit the mat to count, my hands twisted together in front of me. When the ref counted to three, I dropped my hands to my sides, mouth agape.

On the monitor in front of me, Braun was handed the title as the crowd went crazy. He didn’t waste much time in the middle of the ring, opting instead to come backstage, finding me almost immediately.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, running up to him. He encased me in his arms, lifting me and swinging me around in the middle of gorilla. “I’m so proud of you! My Beast with the title!” Before he could reply, I had crushed my lips to his, ignoring the wolf whistles coming from our coworkers. When he finally put me down, I checked the clock on the wall. “We have about 25 minutes until I’m up,” I whispered. “If you were interested in a personal congratulations.”

Braun cocked an eyebrow at me, adjusting his belt over his shoulder. I smiled up at him, reaching for his hand and moving through the crowd.

“Don’t take too long, your match is soon!” Sasha called after us, bursting into laughter. I rolled my eyes, still tugging Braun down the hallway to our locker room.

“What are you doing, Beauty?” Braun asked as I shoved him into the room, closing the door behind us.

“I’m so proud of you,” I said, fingers dancing across his chest. “So, so proud.” I stood on my tiptoes, urging him down so I could kiss him again. He nipped at my bottom lip, his tongue slipping into my mouth as I busied myself with the fastenings on his pants. I broke away, pressing another small kiss to his lips before dropping to my knees in front of him, pulling his pants with me.

I looked up at him, smile on my face, as I stroked his length through his underwear, feeling him harden under me. “Baby, you don’t have to-“ he began, taking in a deep shuddering breath as I sucked lightly on the tip of his cock through his underwear.

“I’m proud of you, and I don’t think I could wait until after my match to do this, to show you how happy I am for you,” I said, fingers hooking into the sides of his underwear, pulling them down to free his cock.

Braun groaned, title belt falling to the ground so his hands would be free to tangle in my hair as I sucked the head of his dick into my mouth, my tongue swirling around it. “Fuck,” he whispered, hands tightening in my hair as I flicked my tongue against the slit, collecting the bead of precum gathered there.

I pulled away momentarily to say, “I don’t have long, because I have a match I have to kick ass in, so…” before I took him in as far as I could, the tip of his cock hitting my throat. The sound that came from his throat was inhuman and I looked up at him, his eyes meeting mine as I kept bobbing my head. My tongue swirled around his length as I moved, groans falling from his mouth continuously. When I deep throated him, swallowing around him, he growled, hands stopping me from moving. He held my head still, thrusting his hips into my mouth, head of his dick hitting the back of my throat each time. I supported myself on his thighs, feeling his muscles tense as he came in my mouth, head thrown back.

I swallowed it all with a smile, feeling very pleased with myself as he yanked me to my feet, pulling me into his chest. “If we had more time…” he trailed off, an obvious promise in his voice.

The clock behind him showed me I had five minutes until my match. Just long enough to swing by makeup to get a lipstick touch up before getting to gorilla in time for my entrance. “We can do whatever it is you have planned after my match,” I promised, pulling him down to me so I could kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you after the match, okay? I’ll be the one with the pretty white belt over my shoulder,” I told him, kissing his cheek once more before rushing out of the room.


I was nearing the end of my match when it happened. I did a flip from the top rope and immediately knew something was wrong when I landed. My leg was on fire, but I refused to stop in the middle of what was one of the best matches of my career. I had about seven minutes of the match left, my leg screaming at me for each step I took. I knew I didn’t look good, limping across the ring, but I still managed to correctly land two more flips, pinning Nia on the last one.

I tried to stand, propping myself up on the ropes as the ref handed me my title, the one I knew I wouldn’t get to keep much longer. I held in the tears as I sat on the apron, trying to explain to the medical staff what I felt when I landed wrong. When they tried to help me stand, they were shoved out of the way, Braun taking their place. He picked me up bridal style, careful of the bad leg, and tucked me into his chest, walking me up the ramp.

“Braun, it hurts.” I was finally crying, my head tucked into his neck as the tears fell. “It hurts so bad. I messed up, I messed up. I’m gonna have to relinquish the title. It hurts.” I was rambling and I knew I was nearly incomprehensible, sobs racking my body as we finally made it backstage.

“Shhh, Beauty, you’re okay,” he soothed, taking me to the doctor backstage. He sat me down gently on the examination table, taking my hand as I started crying harder.

“Tell me what happened,” the medical examiner said. And so I launched into my story, still sobbing. Braun’s hand around mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand, calmed me slightly, but I was still panicking. I knew how terrible this was going to end up being for me, and I wasn’t ready for this to come to an end so quickly.


“I wish I could be there, but I promise I’ll get there as soon as I can after Raw, okay?” Braun told me as I was loaded into a car. I was to be taken to the airport as soon as possible to be flown to Birmingham for surgery. I had torn my ACL, meniscus, and my patella tendon. No one knew how long I was going to be out until after my surgery, but I knew it couldn’t be good. Mick took the belt from me before we made it to the hospital, and the look on his face was not one of confidence.

At this point, I had stopped being upset and started being angry. Angry at myself for not landing properly, angry that this had to happen in the first place, and angry that Braun wasn’t coming with me. I understood why, of course. He’s the newly crowned champion and has media to do before Raw, but I was still upset about the fact I’d have to go into surgery without him by my side.

“Whatever,” I grumbled, finally in the car. There was ice taped to my knee, forcing me to sit sideways in the seat.

Braun’s face fell, an obvious frown hiding beneath his beard. He shrugged it off, leaning in to kiss the top of my head. “Call me when you get to the hotel, okay? I wanna hear you made it safe. I’ll see you after your surgery tomorrow.”

I nodded, face stoic and he stepped back, sighing. The door closed and off we went to the airport, to the end of my title reign.


I opted to text Braun instead of calling him. I didn’t want to have to deal with an actual conversation. And when he tried to call me 30 minutes after I sent the text, I feigned sleep. I didn’t want to hear the sadness in his voice, the pity. I hated being on the receiving end of pity, and I knew that was all I was going to get from him, from anyone.

When I woke up the next day, my phone had blown up with texts and missed calls and messages, all from coworkers and Braun, wanting to talk to me, to see how I was. I rolled my eyes at all of them, ignoring them in favor of getting ready for my surgery.

Upon reaching the hospital, Dr. Dugas walked me through the procedure, giving me an approximation of the time it would take for him to fix my knee. I just nodded along, ready to get the surgery over with. I didn’t want to suffer for any longer than I had to. I just wanted the surgery so I could go home, be by myself and process this for a while.


The first thing I saw after waking up from surgery was Braun, head propped up on his hand, snoring softly. He jerked awake as I tried sitting up and he was at my bedside in a second, kissing my forehead.

“How are you feeling, Beauty?” he asked, small smile on his face.

“Peachy,” I replied, pulling my hand away from his. He stepped back, scrubbing his face with his hand, eyes tinged red. “What did they do with my title?”

“Baby, we don’t have to – “ he began, reaching for my hand again.

“I have to know,” I interrupted, moving my hand back.

Braun let out a heaving sigh, hand dropping to his side. “Foley put a tournament in place. We’ll see where it goes from here.”

Before I could reply, Dr. Dugas returned, chart in hand. He droned on and on about the procedure, most of which I ignored. When he told me how long I would be out, however, I paid attention. He gave me a number and I scoffed. “Excuse me? How long?”

And he repeated it. Six to nine months. I would be out of the ring for six to nine months. And then I broke down. Broken sobs escaped me, incoherent ramblings leaving my mouth. Braun wrapped his arms around me, stroking my hair as I cried.


Braun followed me home, making sure I had everything set up and to my liking before he had to go back on the road. I had gotten even angrier as time progressed, however, and the prospect of being stuck at home made me sick.

I just laid on the couch, ignoring Braun running around to make sure I would be okay while he was gone. He had tried to talk to me earlier, finally giving up when he realized I wasn’t planning on talking to anyone. My attention was completely on the tv in front of me, and I refused to change that.

“Beauty, you have to eat something,” he begged, crouching down on the ground in front of me, blocking my line of vision to the tv.

“I’m not hungry,” I told him, turning my face so I was staring at the ceiling.

“Beauty,” he sighed, hand reaching out to run through my hair.

I pulled away from his touch, flinching back against the back of the couch. “Braun, just let me sit here. I don’t want to eat, I don’t want you to touch me. I just want to be left alone. Just let me be alone,” I snapped.

Braun didn’t say anything, not moving as he stared at me. He finally sighed, standing up from in front of me. I heard him tinkering around in the kitchen when I finally let out a deep breath I had been holding, tears escaping with it. I knew I wasn’t really angry at Braun. I was mad at the situation, and he was the only one I could take it out on. I knew it, and yet I couldn’t stop myself.


“I’ll call you after the show, Beauty. And everyday I’m on this leg of the tour. We’ll talk at least once, okay?” Braun told me, kissing my forehead.

He was scheduled for a two week tour of college towns, starting tomorrow with Raw. He turned away from me, grabbing his bags, when I finally replied. “Don’t bother.”

“What?” he asked, incredulous.

“You’ll be busy. You don’t need to waste your time calling the former women’s champion,” I snapped, arms crossed.

“Beauty, please,” he begged, walking back towards me. “Listen. This isn’t the end of the world, alright? You’ll be back. You’ll be champion again sooner than you know.”

“You’ll be late,” was all I said back, gesturing to the door.

Braun sighed, grabbing his bags and heading for the door. “I’ll call you.”

“Don’t bother,” I repeated, flipping through channels on the tv.

“Beauty, are you serious?” his voice was lower, more serious than I had ever heard before.

“Braun, just go. I’ll call you if I need to. But you’ll be busy. Don’t worry about calling me,” I told him.

“Then I’ll see you in two weeks?” Braun asked, voice hopeful. I hummed in response, finally settling on a show to watch. “Please call me, whenever you need to,” he begged. He stood in the door, looking back at me. When I didn’t reply, his shoulders dropped and he left the apartment, leaving me on the couch.

I didn’t call. And neither did he.