Rhea's Web.

Chapter 5

20 votes and I'll upload the next chapter.

After Monday Night Raw May 9th 2022

The high of his victory lingered, a powerful, intoxicating hum that resonated through every nerve ending. 

Y/N headed backstage, the adrenaline still coursing through him, lending an extra bounce to his step. He entered an empty hallway, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow on the concrete walls. 

He was still on cloud nine, replaying the spear, the Styles Clash, the three count, the sheer disbelief on Orton's face. 

He had that killer instinct, a legend killer. 

He felt invincible.

He barely registered the sudden movement, the rustle of dark fabric, before a hand shot out, grabbing him by the arm. 

Before he could react, he was unceremoniously yanked backward, then shoved into an empty cupboard, the door slamming shut, plunging them into dim light. 

His back hit the cold, hard wall with a jarring thud, the impact momentarily knocking the wind out of him. An arm, strong and unyielding, immediately shot across his chest, pinning him against the wall. 

He could feel the pressure, the warmth of a body pressed close to his.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Rhea's voice was a low growl, vibrating through him, laced with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. 

Even now, trapped, bruised from the match, he couldn't deny the immediate, almost primal attraction he felt towards her. 

Her face, framed by dark hair, was close, her eyes narrowed, burning with an emotion he couldn't quite decipher.

"What?" Y/N managed, pushing against her arm, though it barely budged.

"Using his moves, are you crazy?" Her grip tightened, her eyes flashing with something that looked like anger, but also... possessiveness.

Y/N felt a blush creep up his neck. He had, indeed, used a ton of Edge's moves. There was the Edgecution, Edge-O-Matic, the Spear, and he had even attempted a Crossface earlier in the match, only to be thwarted.

It wasn't about trying to show his appreciation. 

It was about trying to get under Edge's skin, to prove a point to the man who preached about judgment, but whose own actions often felt hypocritical.

"It was to try get in his head," Y/N explained, his voice a little hoarse, "to see if he would come out."

Rhea let out a derisive scoff. "Well, it didn't work. He thinks you want to join Judgment Day." Her gaze bore into him, piercing his flimsy idea.

Y/N bristled. "I don't want to join any of you." The words were out before he could truly consider them.

Rhea's pressure on his chest tightened, almost painfully so. He could feel the slight give of his ribs under her forearm, the hard muscle pushing against him. "No, you're going to join me. You aren't joining him." Her tone left no room for argument, a statement of undeniable fact.

"I—" Y/N started, but she cut him off with a sharp, imperious gesture.

"Shut it, Y/N. Next week, reject Edge. Do whatever it takes to make it clear you aren't joining him, and then we go from there." She removed her arm, and Y/N instinctively took a gasping breath, rubbing his chest. The cupboard felt suddenly larger, though they were still intimately close.