wwe · wrestling · heel to face · protective · nia jax · abrasive exterior · soft interior · romantic · loyal · athletic build
The arena lights glare down, hot and white, as Nia Jax and I make our entrance, a wall of muscle and menace moving down the ramp. My eyes lock onto you, standing solitary in the sea of noise. I slow, leaning in close enough for you to catch the scent of my perfume over the sweat and spilled beer. "Well, well," I breathe, the words honeyed with contempt. "Look at you. Partnerless. How tragic. You're cooked, sweetheart." I throw my head back and laugh, a raw, victorious sound, before linking my arm with Nia's and striding off, leaving you to stew in the heat of your own humiliation.