idaisyy

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

Chapter 72

Punk barely had a chance to hit dial before his phone buzzed in his hand. Daisy's name flashed across the screen.

He sighed, already bracing himself. Shit. He knew she'd be pissed.

He answered immediately. "Hey—"

"What the fuck was that, Punk?!" Daisy's voice came through sharp and furious. "I had to sit here, sick as hell, watching that bitch rub her hands all over you? Twisting your hair? Are you kidding me right now?"

Punk ran a hand over his face, already exhausted. "Daisy, I swear to God, I didn't—"

"Oh, I saw," she cut him off. "I saw you stand there and let her feel you up like you're some kind of—"

"I didn't fucking let her!" Punk snapped, his frustration boiling over. "I shut that shit down! Did you even watch the rest of the match? I was a dick to her the whole time—"

"Oh, good for you, Punk," Daisy shot back sarcastically. "You shut it down eventually. Meanwhile, I had to sit here and watch her run her hands all over you like you were hers to touch."

Punk groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He knew this was bad, he knew she was upset, but fuck, did she really think he wanted that?

"Daisy, you know I wouldn't do that shit to you." His voice was lower now, calmer, because he needed her to believe him. "You know it. You think I wanted her touching me? You think I liked that?"

Daisy was silent for a second. He could hear her breathing, could hear the way she sniffled like she was trying not to let this get to her, but it was.

"It just fucking sucked to watch," she muttered.

Punk exhaled, his chest tightening. "I know, baby." The word slipped out before he could stop it, but he didn't take it back. "I know. But I swear to you, I told her to fuck off the second we got backstage. I made it clear—you are who I'm with. No one else."

Daisy stayed quiet again, but this time, it wasn't out of anger. Punk could picture her now, curled up in the hotel bed, still feeling like shit, trying to decide if she believed him.

"You really told her off?" she finally asked, voice softer.

Punk let out a short, humorless laugh. "I told her to stay the fuck away from me. And I meant it."

Another pause. Then finally, Daisy sighed. "Okay."

Punk nodded, relieved. "Okay."

"But if she tries that shit again, I'm ripping her fucking extensions out."

Punk grinned, shaking his head. "Fair."

Punk barely had the door shut behind him before Daisy lit into him.

"Oh, look who finally decided to come back," she snapped from the bed, arms crossed over her chest. She still looked pale, her hair messy from laying down all day, but the glare she was giving him was deadly.

Punk sighed, already exhausted. He dropped his bag near the door. "Daisy, don't start."

"Don't start?" she repeated, eyes narrowing. "You're the one who took your sweet time getting back here. What, did Trish hold you up?"

Punk's jaw clenched. "Are you serious right now?"

"I don't know, Punk, am I?" She threw the blankets off her lap and sat up, staring daggers at him. "You're late as hell, and after what I saw tonight—"

"Because of traffic, Daisy!" Punk cut her off, voice rising in frustration. "Jesus Christ, what do you want me to say? I left the second I could. I wasn't with fucking Trish."

"How do I know that?" she shot back. "I wasn't there, Punk, I—"

"Because I just fucking told you!" Punk ran a hand through his hair, trying to breathe, trying to be reasonable, because he knew she was sick, he knew she was upset, but fuck, she was really pushing it right now.

Daisy's lip trembled, but she wasn't backing down. "You let her touch you."

Punk groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I told you already—I didn't let her do shit. I told her off. I told her to stay the fuck away from me. I don't know what else you want me to do."

Daisy was breathing hard now, her fists clenched in the sheets. But Punk wasn't mad anymore. Not really. Not when he could see the way her eyes were glassy, the way her shoulders were tense. She wasn't just mad—she was hurt.

Punk exhaled, his voice softening. "You're mad at me because you feel like shit, and because you had to sit here and watch that, and because I wasn't here when you wanted me to be." He stepped closer. "But, Daisy, I'm here now. I wasn't with Trish. I was in traffic, losing my fucking mind because I knew you'd be mad when I walked through that door. And I still came back to you, didn't I?"

Daisy blinked, her bottom lip wobbling just slightly before she bit it.

Punk sat on the edge of the bed, watching her carefully. "You know I wouldn't do that to you," he said, quieter now.

Daisy swallowed hard, looking down at her lap. Her voice was small when she muttered, "I just hated watching that."

Punk nodded. "I know." He reached for her, his hand finding her thigh under the blanket, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry you had to."

Daisy finally looked up at him, her face still twisted in frustration, but there was something else in her expression now—something softer.

After a long moment, she sighed heavily. "You really told her to fuck off?"

Punk smirked. "You should've seen her face."

Daisy let out a tiny laugh—barely there, but he caught it. She still looked like she wanted to be mad, but it was fading.

Finally, she reached for his hoodie, gripping the fabric weakly. "You still suck."

Punk chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Scoot over."

She did, and as soon as Punk crawled into bed next to her, she curled into him, her body still burning up from her fever. He let out a deep breath, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Next time, I'm fighting her myself," Daisy mumbled against his chest.

Punk grinned. "I'd pay to see that."

MORNING

Daisy groggily opened her eyes, stretching out in the bed before realizing something was off. The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets slightly cool where Punk had been. She frowned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. That's when she heard it—water running in the bathroom, the door locked.

She blinked, still half-asleep. "Punk?" Her voice was rough with sleep as she shuffled out of bed, padding over to the door. She knocked. "Hey, you okay? You never lock the door."

"I'm fine," he called back, but his voice sounded weird. Off.

Daisy's stomach dropped. "Oh my god," she said. "I got you sick, didn't I?"

"What? No," Punk said quickly. "Just—do me a favor. Close your eyes."

Daisy furrowed her brows. "What? Why?"

"Just do it, Daisy. And don't open them until I say."

Now she was even more confused, but with a huff, she crossed her arms and closed her eyes. "Fine. But if you're about to pull some dumb shit—"

She heard the door unlock, then soft footsteps approaching. The air shifted in front of her, and then—

"Okay. Open."

Daisy's eyes fluttered open.

And her jaw dropped.

Punk stood in front of her, arms crossed over his chest, looking—different. His hair, which had always been long enough for her to run her fingers through, to grab during their fights, to pull when she really wanted to piss him off—was gone.

Well, not gone, but short. Buzzed at the sides, the top a little longer but still cropped close

Daisy just stared.

Punk shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know you told me you liked it long," he said, his voice softer now. "But I—" He exhaled. "Trish was all over it last night, and I saw how much that pissed you off, so..." He shrugged. "I cut those parts off."

Daisy still wasn't breathing. She couldn't.

Punk mistook her silence for something else because his face twisted slightly. "You hate it, don't you?"

And that snapped Daisy right out of it.

"I love it," she blurted, and Punk's brows shot up.

Her hands twitched at her sides because—fuck, she wanted to touch it. She wanted to run her fingers through the shorter strands, wanted to tug on it while he was between her legs, wanted to see what it felt like against her thighs when he—

"Daisy?" Punk was watching her now, wary, like he wasn't sure what was going through her head.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Punk, you don't understand." She took a step closer, her eyes roaming over him—over the sharp angles of his face that the haircut only highlighted, the way his eyes looked even darker now, the way his smirk would probably look a thousand times cockier with this new look.

"I've never wanted to fuck you more in my life."

Punk choked.

"Jesus Christ, Daisy—"

She grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer, her fingers brushing against the newly buzzed sides of his head. "You look so fucking hot right now, I'm actually gonna lose my mind," she admitted, breathless. "This is the best decision you've ever made, I swear to God—"

Punk let out a strangled laugh. "You liked my long hair—"

"I thought I did," Daisy corrected. "But this? Oh my God, Punk, I don't even know what to do with myself right now."

Punk was staring at her now, his lips parted, his eyes flicking between hers and her mouth. "You're still sick," he reminded her, but it sounded weak.

Daisy's grip on his wrist tightened. "I feel a lot better now."

Punk groaned, tipping his head back. "I knew this was gonna backfire."

Daisy smirked, her fingers now carding through the short strands at the top of his head. "Or maybe it worked too well."

Punk sighed, grabbing her wrist to stop her. "You're still burning up, Daisy. Lay your ass back down before you pass out."

Daisy rolled her eyes but obeyed, flopping back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. She watched as Punk grabbed his bag, shaking his head like he couldn't believe her.

"Seriously, Punk," she said, her voice teasing. "Be honest. Did you do this just because Trish touched it? Or did you do it because you knew I'd want to climb you like a fucking tree when I saw it?"

Punk threw a pillow at her face.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

Chapter 71

Daisy spent the whole night running back and forth to the bathroom, her stomach refusing to settle. Every time she thought she was done, another wave of nausea would hit, forcing her back over the toilet. And every single time, Punk was right there with her.

It didn't matter that it was past midnight or that he had barely slept himself—whenever she got up, he got up. He sat on the cold tile floor with her, rubbing her back, holding her hair, passing her a glass of water even when he knew she wouldn't keep it down.

"You don't have to stay up," she mumbled between dry heaves, forehead resting against her arm as she crouched over the toilet. "I feel bad."

Punk let out a short, dry laugh. "Yeah? Imagine how I feel watching you puke your guts out every five minutes."

She groaned, too exhausted to argue. "Seriously, Punk. Go to bed."

He ignored her, standing up to wet a washcloth before crouching beside her again. Gently, he pressed it to the back of her neck, the coolness a welcome relief against her burning skin.

"Nah," he muttered. "Not leaving you like this."

Daisy closed her eyes, the weight of his hand against her back grounding her. As miserable as she felt, she knew she wasn't alone.

Eventually the morning comes and they have to get on the road , Daisys stomach selts a little but she still has a fever and feels like shit

Punk was already loading their bags into the rental car when Daisy sluggishly shuffled toward the driver's side, still looking pale and exhausted.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Punk asked, stepping in front of the door before she could open it.

"Driving," she said weakly, her voice rough from the night before. "You barely slept, and I feel bad—"

"Not happening," he cut her off, grabbing the keys from her hand before she could protest. "You look like you're about to pass out, and the last thing we need is you throwing up behind the wheel."

Daisy groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. She was still warm, and the lingering headache wasn't making things any easier. "I just... I hate that I kept you up all night."

Punk sighed, his expression softening as he gently guided her toward the passenger seat. "Don't apologize for being sick, dumbass. It's not like you did it on purpose."

She pouted as he buckled her in, and he rolled his eyes before reaching over to press the back of his hand against her forehead.

"Still burning up," he muttered, shaking his head as he started the car.

Daisy frowned, pulling her hoodie tighter around her. "I'll be fine. Just wake me up if you get too tired to drive."

"Yeah, yeah," Punk said, but they both knew he wouldn't wake her up for anything.

As they pulled onto the road, Daisy leaned her head against the window, the hum of the car lulling her. She felt like crap, but there was something comforting about knowing Punk had her back

Daisy sat on the edge of the hotel bed, her phone pressed tightly to her ear as she listened to Vince McMahon's gruff voice on the other end.

"Daisy, you were off last night, and from what I hear, you're still sick. I don't think you should wrestle tonight."

Her stomach dropped. She knew she felt like absolute crap—her fever hadn't fully broken, and her limbs felt weak—but the thought of sitting out a match, especially when she and Punk had been building momentum as a team, made her stomach churn worse than the flu.

"Vince, please," she begged, her voice raspy. "I can do it. I'll push through. It's just a little bug, I swear."

Punk, who had just set their bags down, raised an eyebrow as he overheard her side of the conversation. His arms crossed as he leaned against the dresser, already looking unimpressed.

"Daisy," Vince warned, "this isn't up for debate. I don't need you going out there and getting worse, or worse, messing up in the ring because you're sick. Take the night off."

She squeezed her eyes shut, frustration burning behind them. She hated feeling useless. "But—"

"No buts. I'll check in tomorrow. Get some rest."

The line went dead.

Daisy pulled the phone away from her ear and let out a groan, flopping back on the bed. "Dammit."

"So, what'd the old man say?" Punk asked, his voice annoyingly even, like he already knew the answer.

Daisy threw an arm over her eyes. "He won't let me wrestle tonight. He thinks I'm too sick."

Punk shrugged. "Because you are too sick."

She lifted her arm just enough to glare at him. "I could've wrestled."

Punk let out a scoff, pushing off the dresser and walking toward her. "You could barely stay awake in the car. You really think you could've gone out there and put on a match without collapsing?"

Daisy huffed, turning her head away. She knew he was right. She just hated it. "I don't wanna sit out."

Punk sat down next to her, shaking his head with an amused smirk. "You're the most stubborn sick person I've ever met."

She nudged him weakly with her foot. "Shut up."

He chuckled, then leaned back on his elbows. "Look, just take the night off. Sleep, drink some water, do whatever sick people do. I'll handle our match."

Daisy frowned, the idea of him going out there alone not sitting well with her. "You sure?"

Punk rolled his eyes. "What, you think I can't handle myself without you?"

She gave him a small smirk. "I mean, you do need me."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just rest up, alright? I got this."

Punk stayed with Daisy for as long as he could, making sure she was comfortable before he had to leave for the arena. He had ordered her some soup from room service, despite her weak protests that she wasn't hungry.

"You need to eat something," he told her firmly, setting the tray on the nightstand. "You've barely had anything all day."

Daisy groaned, turning her head on the pillow to look at him with bleary eyes. "I'll eat later."

Punk shot her a look. "You say that, but I know your ass is just gonna pass out and not eat at all."

She let out a small, tired laugh. "You're annoying."

"Yeah, well, you're sick and stubborn, so it evens out," he shot back.

Daisy sighed but pushed herself up just enough to reach for the bowl of soup. Punk watched with crossed arms as she slowly took a few bites, satisfied that she wasn't completely ignoring her needs.

"There. Happy?" she muttered after a few spoonfuls, setting the bowl back down.

"Ecstatic," he deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes, but before she could tease him, he checked the time and sighed.

"I gotta go," he said reluctantly.

Daisy hated the thought of being left alone, but she knew he didn't have a choice. "I'll be fine," she reassured him.

Punk lingered by the bed, like he didn't fully believe her. Then, without saying anything, he leaned down and pressed a quick, warm kiss to her forehead.

"Rest up," he murmured before grabbing his bag and heading to the door.

Daisy blinked in surprise, her heart doing an unexpected little flip. By the time she could even think of something to say, Punk was already gone.

Punk barely made it two steps into the arena before Trish Stratus appeared in front of him, arms crossed and smirking.

"Guess what?" she said, her tone way too smug for his liking.

Punk, already in a shitty mood from leaving Daisy sick back at the hotel, just exhaled sharply. "Not in the mood for games, Trish."

"Oh, but you're gonna love this," she teased. "I'm your tag partner tonight."

Punk's expression went blank. He blinked once. Twice. Then, "You're fucking joking."

Trish grinned. "Nope. Vince made the call when Daisy got pulled. You and me, best buddies for the night."

Punk dragged a hand down his face, already exhausted. "I'd rather wrestle solo."

"Yeah, well, you don't have a choice," Trish said with a wink. "Try to keep up, punker."

Punk scowled as she sauntered off, leaving him standing there, already regretting every decision that led to this moment.

Punk didn't waste a second. The moment Trish walked off, he was already looking around for his phone. He wasn't about to let Daisy find out from someone else—or worse, from watching the damn show.

Finally, he dug his phone out of his bag and quickly dialed her number. It rang a few times before her groggy voice came through.

"Mmm... hey," Daisy mumbled, still half-asleep. "You at the arena?"

"Yeah," Punk said, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, I need to tell you something before you hear it from anyone else."

That got her attention. He heard shuffling, like she was sitting up in bed. "What? What happened?"

Punk exhaled. "Since you're out tonight, Vince put me in a tag match with Trish."

Silence. Then, "Oh."

Not the reaction he wanted. "I didn't ask for this shit," he added quickly. "You know that, right? I'd rather be teaming with you. Hell, I'd rather be doing literally anything else than teaming with her."

"No, I know," Daisy said, but her voice was quieter now.

Punk hated that. He didn't want her to feel weird about this. "Look, if it was the other way around—if you had to team with Cody or Jeff—I'd wanna know. So I figured you'd want to know too."

Another pause. Then, "Thanks for telling me."

He could still hear it in her voice. She wasn't mad, but she wasn't thrilled either. He sighed. "You sure you're good?"

Daisy huffed. "I mean, I feel like shit, but yeah. I'm not mad, Punk. Just... I don't know. Probably overthinking."

"What are you overthinking?"

"Just... everyone already assumes there's something going on between you and Trish."

Punk groaned. "Yeah, well, everyone's fucking wrong. You know that."

"I do," she admitted. "But it still sucks."

Punk clenched his jaw. He hated this. Hated that she was sick, that she was feeling like this, and that he had to go team with Trish fucking Stratus of all people.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised. "And you know I'd rather be in that hotel room with you than in this damn match."

Daisy let out a small, tired laugh. "I know."

"Alright. Get some rest. I'll call you when it's over."

"Okay. Be safe."

"Always."

Punk hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket with a deep sigh. This night was already gonna suck—but at least Daisy knew where he stood.

Punk clenched his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might crack. The deafening "WE WANT DAISY!" chants filled the arena, wave after wave, and he couldn't blame them. He wanted Daisy too—wanted her next to him, wanted her in this match, not Trish.

And then Trish had to take it too damn far.

She reached up, fingers curling into the ends of his hair, twisting them playfully. Her other hand? Bold as hell, sliding across his chest like she had any right to touch him.

Punk jerked away immediately, stepping back with a disgusted scowl. "Are you serious?" he hissed under his breath, barely hiding his irritation.

Trish just smirked, batting her lashes like she wasn't deliberately trying to piss Daisy off—like she wasn't trying to get a reaction out of both of them.

Back at the hotel, Daisy sat up so fast she got dizzy. Oh, hell no.

She had seen Trish flirt with him before, but this? This was blatant. This was in front of thousands. And Punk—she knew he wasn't playing into it, but God, just seeing Trish's hands on him made her stomach twist.

As she gripped her phone, her thumb hovered over Punk's contact. She was this close to calling him the second the match was over. No, actually—she was this close to texting Trish right the hell now and telling her to back off.

In the ring, Punk rolled his shoulders, making a point to keep all distance between him and Trish. He could already feel Daisy's fury from miles away.

This was gonna be a long-ass night.

The match was a mess from the start. The crowd refused to let up, still chanting "WE WANT DAISY!" so loud it was almost drowning out the bell. Punk wasn't playing into Trish's flirting—not even a little. In fact, he was actively shutting it down, and the commentators definitely took notice.

"Punk doesn't seem too thrilled about his new tag partner tonight," one of them noted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Can you blame him? He's been teaming with Daisy for weeks, and now he's stuck with Trish—who, by the way, looks way more interested in Punk than this match," the other commentator added.

And they weren't wrong. Trish was trying. She kept getting up close, brushing against him when she didn't need to, even going for unnecessary tags just to get her hands on him. But Punk? He wasn't having it. Not even a little.

At one point, she smirked at him and said, "Come on, Punk, don't be shy."

Punk glared. "Shy? Nah, I just have standards."

The crowd ate that up. A loud "OOOOH!" rippled through the arena, followed by more "DAISY! DAISY!" chants.

"Yikes! I don't think Punk wants anything to do with Trish tonight," one commentator laughed.

"Are you surprised? I mean, have you seen how he and Daisy look at each other? It's no secret everyone—including Punk—misses her tonight."

Back at the hotel, Daisy crossed her arms, watching the TV with a smirk. Damn right he missed her.

Backstage, as soon as they were out of the cameras' view, Punk snapped.

"What the fuck was that?" he barked, whirling around to face Trish. His chest was still rising and falling from the match, but his anger burned hotter than any exhaustion.

Trish rolled her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Relax, Punk, it was just some fun—"

"No," he cut her off sharply, stepping in closer. "You don't fucking touch me like that again. You hear me? I don't know what the hell you thought was gonna happen, but I know exactly where I stand. I know exactly who the fuck I'm with. And it's not you."

Trish's expression darkened, the fake flirtatiousness dropping completely. She had expected him to push back a little, sure, but not this. Not shutting her down this hard. Not acting like he was already spoken for. Like Daisy owned him.

She clenched her jaw. "Right. Got it."

Punk didn't wait for a response. He shook his head and stormed off, already pulling out his phone to call Daisy.

Meanwhile, Trish stood there, seething. She had never been so publicly rejected before, and by him? Over her?

Her eyes narrowed. If Punk wanted to humiliate her like that, if he wanted to act like Daisy was untouchable, then fine. She'd just have to remind Daisy that nothing was untouchable.

And she already had the perfect plan forming in her head.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

chapter 70!

NEXT DAY TIME SKIP

Daisy hadn't felt good all day , earlier on she had a fever and she's been feeling like shit and it was showing in her match

As Daisy struggled through the match, Punk couldn't help but notice how off she looked. Her movements weren't as sharp, her usual fire seemed dimmed, and every time she hit the mat, she was a second slower getting up. He'd heard her all day, telling him she wasn't feeling great, and now it was clear as day in the ring.

Then, from the apron, he caught wind of the commentary team's discussion.

"Daisy just doesn't seem to have it tonight," one of them remarked. "Maybe she's off her game, or maybe Punk carrying her for the past few months is finally catching up to her."

Punk's head snapped toward them, his jaw clenching. He glared at the commentators, then at Daisy, who was still doing her best in the ring, pushing through whatever was weighing her down. That was it—he wasn't letting them run their mouths.

Without a second thought, he hopped off the apron and stormed toward the announce desk. The commentators barely had time to react before Punk grabbed a headset right off one of their heads, shoving it on.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Punk's voice crackled through the speakers, laced with irritation.

The commentators exchanged looks. "Punk, what are you doing—?"

"What am I doing? No, what the hell are you doing? Sitting here talking trash about my partner while she's in there busting her ass? You wouldn't last two minutes in that ring, but here you are, running your mouths like you could do better."

Daisy, in the ring, barely caught what was happening, but she could hear the crowd's reaction shifting. She glanced over to see Punk standing at the desk, headset on, absolute fire in his eyes.

"You wanna talk about someone carrying this team? Fine. Let's talk about how many times she's carried me. Let's talk about how she's out here, clearly not feeling her best, and still putting on a show for these people. But no, instead, you'd rather sit here and make stupid comments, huh?"

The crowd popped loud, rallying behind Punk's words, and even the commentary team was at a loss.

"That's what I thought," Punk scoffed, tossing the headset back onto the desk. He turned and marched back toward the ring, hopping onto the apron just in time for Daisy to look up at him. Even though she was out of breath, even though she was pushing herself through whatever sickness was dragging her down, she still managed a small, tired smile.

As soon as Daisy tagged out, she didn't roll out of the ring like usual. Instead, she slid under the bottom rope and walked straight toward the commentary desk, her expression set in determination. The crowd started buzzing, unsure of what was happening, but Punk—still in the ring—glanced over, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he took notice.

The commentators tensed as Daisy approached, still catching their breath from Punk's outburst just moments ago. She leaned against the table, catching her own breath, before pulling one of their microphones closer.

"I don't know if you guys realize this," she started, her voice slightly hoarse from exhaustion, "but I can hear you. I hear every word you say when I'm in that ring. And if you think I'm just gonna let you sit here and disrespect me while I'm sick and still showing up to fight? Think again."

The crowd roared in approval, and even Punk, who had his opponent in a headlock, smirked slightly at her fire.

"Next time you feel like talking about me? Be careful what you say. Because I'm not some rookie you can brush off. I'm Daisy. And I've earned my damn place here."

She slammed the mic down onto the table and turned back toward the ring, rolling onto the apron while Punk finished the match. The commentary team sat in stunned silence, knowing they had just been put in their place—twice.

Punk, still holding his opponent in a headlock, let out a low chuckle before wrenching it tighter. Yeah, that was his girl.

MATCH OVER

As they walked up the ramp, Punk had his arm draped over Daisy's shoulders, keeping her close as the crowd continued to buzz from the match and her bold confrontation at commentary. He turned his head slightly, smirking.

"I loved that, by the way," he said, voice filled with admiration. "The way you stood up for yourself? Fucking perfect. You put them in their place. You were—"

"Punk."

Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper, and he immediately turned his full attention to her.

"What?" he asked, brow furrowing slightly.

"I'm gonna throw up."

He stopped in his tracks, blinking. "Oh, ha ha. Real funny, Daisy. You're making a joke because I'm being too nice—"

She abruptly yanked away from him, bolting toward the nearest trash can. Punk's smirk immediately vanished as realization hit.

"Oh, shit."

He followed quickly, placing a hand on her back as she hunched over, heaving into the bin. His usual cocky demeanor dropped in an instant, replaced by concern as he rubbed slow, careful circles against her spine.

"Alright, okay, just breathe," he muttered, crouching beside her. "Damn, you weren't kidding."

Daisy groaned, resting her forehead against the cool metal of the trash can. "Why would I joke about this?" she mumbled miserably.

Punk winced. "Yeah, okay, fair point."

Just then, a few other wrestlers and crew members passed by, their faces etched with curiosity and mild concern.

"She alright?" one of them asked.

Punk shot them a glare. "What do you think?"

They wisely took that as their cue to keep moving.

Daisy groaned again, and Punk sighed, adjusting his grip on her back. "Come on, let's get you back to the hotel. You're done for the night."

She didn't argue. She just let him support her as they made their way toward the car his hand never leaving her back.

As soon as Punk unlocked the hotel room door, Daisy barely made it to the bathroom before she was hurling into the toilet. Punk followed right behind her, shutting the door behind them and immediately kneeling beside her.

"Jesus, Daisy," he muttered, gathering her hair in his hands to keep it out of her face. He used his other hand to rub slow circles against her back, trying to offer whatever comfort he could.

She groaned in between heaves, gripping the sides of the toilet like her life depended on it. "This is so gross," she mumbled miserably.

"Yeah, well, you're not the one holding someone's puke-covered hair, so—"

She weakly swatted at his arm, and he huffed out a quiet laugh despite the situation. "Okay, okay, I'll shut up," he said, adjusting his grip on her hair.

A few more miserable moments passed before her body finally stopped betraying her. She slumped against the cool porcelain, eyes squeezed shut as she took slow, uneven breaths.

Punk sighed. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up." He reached over, grabbing a washcloth from the counter and running it under some cool water before pressing it gently to the back of her neck.

Daisy hummed at the sensation, too exhausted to do much else.

"You good now?" he asked, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

She opened her eyes slightly, looking up at him. "I think so."

Punk didn't look convinced. "You sure? Because I'd really rather not have you puking on me in the middle of the night."

Daisy groaned. "You're so dramatic."

"I'm just saying—"

"Punk."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and help me to bed."

Punk smirked, but without another word, he slid an arm around her waist and helped her up, keeping her steady as he led her to the bed. Once she was tucked in, he sat down on the edge, watching her for a moment before muttering, "Guess I'm on nurse duty tonight."

Daisy cracked a small, tired smile. "Lucky me."

Punk came back into the room a few minutes later, setting a bottle of medicine and a glass of water on the nightstand before placing a trash can right next to her side of the bed. Daisy, curled up under the blankets, blinked at him in disbelief.

"You really thought of everything, huh?" she mumbled, voice hoarse.

Punk scoffed, kicking off his shoes before climbing into bed beside her. "Yeah, well, I'd rather not have to clean up puke at three in the morning."

Daisy snorted, then winced when her stomach twisted again. "Ugh. Don't make me laugh, it hurts."

Without a word, Punk slid an arm around her waist and pulled her into him, settling her against his chest. Daisy tensed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, peeking up at him. "Aren't you scared I'm gonna throw up on you?"

Punk rolled his eyes. "Shut up and go to sleep."

She stared at him for a second before shaking her head with a small smile, relaxing into him. His hand slowly slid over her stomach, rubbing soft circles over the fabric of her shirt. The motion was soothing, comforting in a way she hadn't expected.

"That actually feels kinda nice," she murmured sleepily.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a fucking saint," Punk muttered, but there was no bite to his words.

Daisy hummed in amusement, already drifting. "Thanks for taking care of me."

Punk didn't say anything at first. Then, so quiet she almost didn't catch it, he murmured, "Always."

[idaisyy]

HEY GUYS!!! sorry I’ve been off and disappeared I literally just got burnt out lol, butttt thank you all for so many kind messages and support I love it ! I will continue my tag ur in story and will upload some new chaps tonight!

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-Chapter 69

As soon as they stepped into their hotel room, the overwhelming scent of lilies filled the air, surrounding them in a floral haze. Daisy sighed happily, kicking off her shoes and looking around at the sea of flowers.

"I still can't believe you did all this," she murmured, running her fingers over one of the petals.

Punk shut the door behind them and watched her for a moment, a quiet satisfaction settling in his chest. He had one more thing for her—one last surprise, the one he'd been holding onto for weeks, waiting for the right moment.

"Close your eyes," he said, stepping up behind her.

Daisy turned to look at him, curious. "Why?"

"Just do it, birthday girl." His voice was softer now, a little more serious.

She huffed playfully but obeyed, shutting her eyes. Punk reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box and opening it, revealing the delicate necklace inside—the one she had seen weeks ago, the one she had loved but ultimately walked away from because it was too expensive. Five hundred dollars. She had sighed, shaken her head, and said, It's beautiful, but I can't justify spending that much on myself.

Punk had gone back and bought it that same day.

And now, as he unclasped the necklace and carefully placed it around her neck, he watched as she shivered slightly at the cool metal against her skin.

"You can open your eyes now," he murmured as he fastened it.

Daisy's fingers instantly reached up, touching the pendant—and then she froze.

For a few seconds, she just stared down at it, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Then, slowly, her wide eyes lifted to meet his.

"Punk," she whispered, voice shaking slightly. "This is—this is the necklace."

He smirked, just a little. "Yeah. Figured you should have it."

She gaped at him. "But you—I mean, when—how did you—" She suddenly gasped. "Oh my god. That day. When you left the café and wouldn't tell me where you went. This is what you were doing?"

Punk shrugged, trying to play it off, but she could see through him now.

"You waited weeks to give it to me?" she asked breathlessly.

"Had to make it special, didn't I?"

Daisy let out a choked sound, somewhere between a laugh and something deeper, and suddenly, her arms were around his neck, pulling him into a tight, desperate hug.

Punk hesitated only a second before wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her just as tight.

"You asshole," she mumbled into his shoulder. "You perfect, infuriating asshole."

Punk smirked, resting his chin on her head. "You're welcome."

Daisy pulled back just enough to look up at him, her fingers still curled around the pendant like she was afraid it might disappear.

"Punk," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "This was five hundred dollars."

"So?" He shrugged like it was nothing, but the way he was looking at her—like she was worth every cent and more—made her stomach flip.

"So?" she echoed incredulously. "That's so much money! I can't believe you actually—Punk, I can't take this."

His smirk faded, and his brows furrowed slightly as he grabbed her wrist, gently prying her fingers away from the necklace. "Yes, you can," he said firmly. "And you will."

She shook her head, overwhelmed. "It's too much."

Punk scoffed. "You kidding? Daisy, you deserve so much more than this." His thumb absentmindedly brushed against her wrist where the small X was stitched onto the jacket he had gotten her. "You deserve to have nice things. You deserve to be spoiled. And if you think I give a shit about the price tag, then you really don't know me at all."

Daisy swallowed hard, her heart slamming against her ribs. He was so matter-of-fact about it, like it was the simplest truth in the world.

She blinked up at him, her eyes shimmering. "Why are you so nice to me?" she whispered.

Punk snorted. "I'm not nice to you."

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You are. You pretend you're not, but you are."

Punk rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. "Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and take the damn necklace, Daisy."

She exhaled shakily, looking down at it again, running her fingers over the delicate metal. Then, finally, she looked back at him and nodded.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll take it."

Punk smirked, satisfied. "Damn right you will."

And when she hugged him again, even tighter than before, he didn't hesitate for a second before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her in like she was his.

She stood there, wrapped up in him, her arms locked around his waist, her face buried in his chest. "Don't let go just yet," she murmured, her voice small but certain.

Punk didn't.

His grip stayed firm, his chin resting lightly on top of her head as he let her hold onto him for as long as she wanted. He felt the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the way she clung to him like she didn't want this moment to end.

Then, in the quiet, she whispered, "This is the best birthday I've ever had." She tilted her head up, her eyes soft and shining. "And it's all because of you."

For once, Punk didn't brush it off, didn't crack a joke to push away the feeling settling deep in his chest. Instead, he let his fingers trace gently up and down her spine and said, "Get used to it."

Daisy blinked up at him, like she wasn't sure she heard him right.

He smirked, but it was softer than usual. "Yeah, you heard me. Get used to it, sweetheart."

Her face lit up, and she hugged him even tighter. And this time, Punk held on just as much as she did.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, his hands still resting on her waist. There was something different in his eyes—not just the usual heat, but something deeper, something steady.

"I got one last gift for you," he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing.

Daisy tilted her head, curious. "Oh yeah? What is it?"

Punk smirked as his fingers trailed up her arms, then back down, slow and deliberate. "Me."

Her breath hitched as he leaned in, kissing her softly, taking his time. There was no rush, no roughness—just the warmth of his lips against hers, the way he held her face like she was something fragile and precious.

His hands slid down her sides, finding the hem of her shirt, lifting it inch by inch until she raised her arms, letting him pull it over her head. His eyes roamed over her, admiration written all over his face. "So fucking beautiful," he murmured, running his hands over her bare skin.

Daisy shivered at his touch, her heart hammering in her chest as he guided her toward the bed. She sat, watching as he kneeled in front of her, his hands spreading her thighs gently.

"I want you to just feel good," he whispered, pressing soft kisses along the inside of her thigh. "No distractions. No bullshit. Just me taking care of you."

Her breath hitched as his mouth moved closer, the warmth of his lips ghosting over her skin. And then, without hesitation, he began—slow, deep, and deliberate, his tongue working against her in ways that made her arch off the bed.

It wasn't just hunger this time. It was something more. Something that made her feel completely and utterly adored.

He kissed the inside of her thighs, slow and lingering, like he had all the time in the world to savor her. His stubble scraped lightly against her skin, adding just the right amount of roughness to contrast the warmth of his lips.

Daisy exhaled shakily, her fingers threading through his dark hair as he moved closer. He pressed a kiss right where her thigh met her hip, teasing, before he finally dragged his tongue over her, slow and deliberate. She gasped, her grip on his hair tightening, and he let out a low hum in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through her.

"You always taste so fucking good," he murmured against her, his voice thick with want.

She could barely form a response before his tongue was on her again, flicking and curling in a way that made her toes curl against the sheets. His hands slid up her stomach, pushing her back onto the bed, pinning her there as he worked her over like it was his sole purpose.

He was taking his time, using slow, deep strokes that had her hips lifting off the bed, chasing the pressure. Punk smirked against her, gripping her hips firmly and pressing them back down. "Stay still," he muttered. "Let me do this for you."

Daisy whimpered, her chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths as he sucked at her clit, rolling it between his lips before flattening his tongue against her, dragging it through her folds like he was savoring every second.

Her thighs started to tremble, her entire body tightening as heat coiled low in her stomach. Punk noticed instantly, the way her breathing changed, the way her grip on his hair became desperate. "That's it," he muttered, looking up at her with hooded eyes. "Let me feel you fall apart."

And then he flicked his tongue just right, slipping two fingers inside her at the same time, curling them against that spot that had her seeing stars. She cried out,

Daisy trembled as the aftershocks rolled through her, her breath ragged as she slowly came down. Punk didn't move away, didn't wipe his face, didn't do anything except let his tongue lazily clean her up, swallowing everything she gave him like he enjoyed every second of it.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were slick, his pupils blown wide as he looked up at her. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but the smirk on his face was unmistakable. "Fuck, you're perfect," he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction.

Daisy tried to catch her breath, blinking down at him as she processed what had just happened. But then, as soon as her body stopped trembling, she reached for him, intent on returning the favor.

But before she could even touch him, Punk grabbed her wrist, shaking his head. "No."

She frowned, confused. "What? But—"

"It's your birthday," he said simply, tugging her forward until she was against his chest. "Just let me hold you."

Daisy hesitated. "But I want to—"

"Daisy," he cut her off, his voice softer now, thumb brushing against her wrist. "You don't have to. Just lay here, okay? It's your day."

She swallowed hard, something about the way he said it making her chest feel warm. Slowly, she let him pull her down onto his chest, her cheek resting against his skin. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close like it was second nature, like he wanted her there.

For a while, neither of them spoke, just listening to the sound of each other's breathing. Then, quietly, Punk murmured, "You really had a good birthday?"

Daisy smiled against his chest. "The best."

She felt him exhale, like he'd been holding his breath waiting for her answer. His fingers traced lazy circles on her back, grounding her.

"You better get used to it," he said, the same words he'd told her earlier, but this time, there was something different in his tone—something softer, something real.

Daisy closed her eyes, letting herself relax into him. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe him.

Daisy felt the warmth of Punk's hand as it rested on the small of her back, his fingers drawing soft patterns against her skin. They lay there in comfortable silence, her heartbeat slowly syncing with his, when she heard him exhale, almost like he was working up the nerve to say something.

Then, barely above a whisper, he said, "Thank you."

She lifted her head slightly, resting her chin on his chest as she looked up at him. "For what?"

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tense like he was trying to hold something back. But then, after a moment, he finally met her eyes, and for once, there was no sarcasm, no teasing smirk—just honesty.

"For choosing me." His voice was quieter than she'd ever heard it. "No one's ever done that before."

Daisy felt her heart clench at his words. She knew Punk wasn't the type to open up easily—he built walls around himself, kept people at arm's length, acted like nothing could touch him. But right now, in this moment, he was letting her see a piece of him that no one else got to see.

Without thinking, she reached up and brushed her fingers through his hair, the same way he always did to her when he thought she was asleep. "Of course, I chose you," she murmured. "I'd do it again."

Something flickered in his eyes—something vulnerable, something raw. He swallowed hard, like he wasn't sure what to do with her words, and then, in a voice so soft she almost didn't hear it, he whispered, "Yeah?"

Daisy nodded. "Yeah."

For a long moment, he just stared at her, like he was memorizing every detail of her face. Then, without another word, he pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair as he held her even tighter, like he was afraid to let go.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-chapter 68

As soon as they stepped into the arena, it was like everyone had been waiting for her arrival.

"Happy birthday, Daisy!"

She barely had time to set her bag down before she was bombarded with well wishes from crew members, wrestlers, and staff. A huge grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up as she thanked each person.

Punk hung back, watching.

She loved this.

Every single "happy birthday" seemed to make her happier, her face practically glowing with excitement. She wasn't just being polite—she genuinely loved being acknowledged, loved that people remembered.

And he had spent all week pretending like he forgot.

A weird feeling settled in his chest. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but he knew one thing—he wanted to be the reason she smiled like that.

"Daisy!"

She turned just in time to get pulled into a tight hug by lita. "Happy birthday, girl! You look amazing. Did you do anything fun yet?"

Punk expected Daisy to complain about still having to work on her birthday, but instead, she beamed. "Actually, yeah. Punk took me to breakfast."

Lisa's eyes widened. "No way."

Punk just rolled his eyes. "What, like I'm incapable of feeding her?"

Lita smirked. "You? Doing something nice? Willingly? Yeah, it's a little shocking."

Daisy giggled, and Punk couldn't even be mad. It was nice seeing her like this—happy, carefree.

As they walked through the halls, more and more people greeted Daisy, wishing her a happy birthday. She thanked every single one of them, her smile never once fading.

Punk stayed quiet beside her, just observing.

She was so easy to please. So grateful for the simplest things. He'd spent so much of his life not giving a damn about birthdays, brushing them off like they didn't matter.

But to Daisy?

They did matter.

And if they mattered to her...

Maybe they should matter to him, too.

Everywhere they went, Daisy was beaming, practically skipping through the halls as she gushed to anyone who would listen.

"Oh my god, look at this jacket Punk got me," she told Molly holly , stretching out her arm to show the little embroidered X on the wrist. "It's so nice, right? And he got me a first edition of my favorite book—first edition, Molly ! Do you know how hard that is to find?"

Molly raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. "Damn, Punk. You really went all out."

Punk just shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, well. She's annoying. Figured if I spoiled her, she'd shut up for a day."

Daisy rolled her eyes but was too happy to even snap back. Instead, she turned to John Morison , who had just walked up.

"John! You'll never believe what Punk did," she said, eyes glowing. "I woke up, and our whole hotel room was covered in lilies. Like, completely covered. I thought I was dreaming. And then he took me to breakfast and brought out a ton of gifts."

John s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. "CM Punk? Doing something romantic? Did I wake up in a different timeline?"

Punk rolled his eyes again, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You guys are acting like I don't have a heart."

Sami snorted. "You don't."

Daisy just giggled, looping her arm through Punk's. "He does. He just pretends he doesn't."

Punk glanced down at her, her hand resting on his arm, her whole face glowing with happiness.

His heart squeezed.

God, she was so cute when she was happy.

And she was bragging about him.

Every single person she ran into, she couldn't wait to tell them what he did for her. Like it was the greatest thing in the world. Like he was the greatest thing in the world.

And fuck if that didn't make his heart swoon.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

"Alright, enough," he grumbled, nudging her arm. "You're making me look soft."

Daisy just grinned. "I like when you're soft."

Punk huffed. "Well, don't get used to it."

Too bad he was already planning exactly what he was gonna do to make her smile like this again next year.

POST MATCH

The match went as planned, fast-paced and electric, the crowd fully engaged. Punk and Daisy worked in perfect sync, despite their usual banter and competitiveness, and when the final bell rang, signaling their victory, Punk immediately turned to the referee and made a quick request.

As Daisy caught her breath, brushing damp strands of hair from her face, she suddenly noticed Punk stepping toward the ropes, motioning for a microphone.

Her stomach flipped.

Oh god, what was he doing?

The arena hummed with curiosity as Punk grabbed the mic, his chest rising and falling from exertion. He turned back toward Daisy, smirking at the wary expression on her face.

He brought the mic to his lips.

"So, uh... I don't usually do this kind of thing, but I figured, what the hell." He turned to the crowd. "You guys feel like helping me out with something real quick?"

The crowd roared in response, and Daisy covered her face with her hands, already mortified but also so damn excited.

Punk's smirk widened. "See, today isn't just any regular day—it's my partner's birthday." He let that sit for a second, then added with a casual shrug, "Or, y'know, my girl's birthday."

The crowd erupted. Cheers, whistles, and loud aww's filled the arena, while the commentators reacted exactly as expected.

"Did he just say what I think he said?!"

"Well, I mean, we all saw the kiss last week—this just confirms it!"

Daisy, completely overwhelmed, pressed her hands over her mouth, her face burning as the crowd's cheers intensified.

Punk turned back to the audience. "So, what do you guys say? Can we give her the loudest damn birthday song she's ever heard?"

The crowd lost it.

Daisy laughed, shaking her head in disbelief as the entire arena—thousands of people, plus everyone watching at home—began singing Happy Birthday to her.

Her heart could have burst.

She turned to Punk, tears in her eyes, and he just grinned, letting the moment sink in.

As the song ended, Daisy launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug so tight he stumbled back a step.

The crowd loved it, cheering even louder as Punk, despite pretending to be put out by the sudden affection, hugged her right back.

She pulled away just enough to look up at him, her face still flushed, her eyes still shining. "You're unbelievable," she said breathlessly.

Punk smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Yeah, well. You bragged about me all day—I had to make sure I earned it."

Daisy laughed, her heart so damn full,and , Punk didn't feel the urge to fight it.

Not when she was looking at him like this.

As they made their way backstage, the energy from the crowd still buzzing in their ears, everyone they passed had something to say to Punk.

"Aww, that was actually really sweet," one of the production assistants gushed as they walked by.

"Damn, Punk, didn't think you had that in you," one of the referees joked, clapping him on the back.

"That was adorable," a female wrestler added, giving Daisy a knowing look. "You've officially domesticated him."

Daisy beamed, still glowing from the entire experience, while Punk rolled his eyes, shaking his head like it was nothing.

"Alright, alright, everyone relax," he grumbled, though the slight smirk on his lips betrayed him.

Drew McIntyre strolled up with an impressed nod. "Didn't peg you as the grand romantic gesture type, mate," he said, arms crossed. "Guess there's a soft side under all that attitude."

Punk scoffed, adjusting the tape on his wrist. "Yeah, don't get used to it."

Daisy, still grinning, nudged him. "You loved it."

Punk exhaled through his nose, giving her a sideways glance. "Maybe."

Just as Daisy was about to tease him more, Cody walked by, shaking his head with a smirk. "Damn, Punk. First, you steal my girl, now you're out here making every other guy look bad."

Punk didn't even hesitate. "Wasn't hard, considering you forgot her birthday."

The group exploded with laughter while Cody's smirk dropped, and Daisy grabbed Punk's arm, half laughing, half groaning. "Oh my god, Punk!"

Punk just shrugged, looking smug as hell. "What? It's true."

Daisy shook her head, trying to fight her smile, but she loved this. All of it. The teasing, the way everyone had been so surprised by Punk's grand gesture, the way he didn't even deny it.

And most of all, the way he kept stealing glances at her—like he was just as caught up in this as she was.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-chapter 67

For two weeks they stayed in the same routine , match , travel match , travel that they have been in since they first started tagging , the usual  , shared moments in a new city every week , a bit of harmless bickering and arguing here and there , and a ton of sex and has the weeks went by punk slowly started to realize it was almost time for Daisys birthday in a couple days

Punk hadn't thought much about birthdays in years. He barely acknowledged his own, let alone someone else's. But as the days blurred together in the same exhausting cycle of matches, travel, and stolen moments with Daisy, he suddenly realized hers was coming up in just a few days.

At first, he tried to brush it off. It was just another day, right? Daisy didn't seem like the type to make a big deal about it. But as he watched her—how she always made time for everyone else, how she never expected anything in return—something gnawed at him.

She deserved more.

The thought annoyed him at first because he didn't know how to do this. He wasn't the guy who planned surprises or gave sentimental gifts. But he wanted to do something for her. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to see her smile.

Lying in bed one night in another random hotel room, he glanced over at Daisy, who was already asleep in the bed next to his. The soft glow from the streetlights outside cast a warm hue over her face, and for a moment, he just watched her.

She had chosen him. Over Jeff. Over comfort. Over everything she had known before.

And now, he wanted to show her—even if he wasn't great at it—that he saw her. That she mattered to him.

The next morning, he woke up with a plan forming in his head. He wasn't sure how he was going to pull it off yet, but one thing was certain.

Daisy's birthday was not going to be just another day.

Punk spent the entire day running around, making calls, and slipping away whenever Daisy wasn't looking. He had never put this much effort into anything that wasn't wrestling, and it was honestly exhausting. But every time he thought about how surprised she'd be, how her eyes would light up, it kept him going.

He made sure to get her personal gifts—things he knew would actually mean something to her.

Then came the decorations. He wasn't the "party planning" type, but he still managed to get enough to make the hotel room feel special. Streamers, balloons, even a stupid little banner that said Happy Birthday, Daisy—which he almost didn't buy because it felt too cheesy, but in the end, he did anyway.

The hardest part? Keeping it all a secret.

By the time he finally got back to the hotel, it was late. He figured he could sneak in, shower, and act like nothing was up.

Wrong.

As soon as he walked in, Daisy was sitting on the bed, arms crossed, looking pissed.

"Where the hell have you been all day?" she demanded.

Punk froze for half a second before forcing himself to play it cool. "Around."

Daisy scoffed, standing up. "Around? You disappeared this morning and didn't answer a single one of my texts. I barely saw you at the arena. You didn't even ride back with me."

"I was busy," he shrugged, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it on a chair.

"Doing what?" she pressed, eyes narrowing.

Punk hesitated. He could lie, make up some excuse, but that wasn't really his style. At the same time, he couldn't tell her the truth. Not yet.

"Stuff," he said vaguely, moving toward the bathroom.

"Wow, okay. Stuff," Daisy repeated, throwing her hands up. "Good to know."

"Jesus, why are you so mad?"

"Because you just ditched me all day! We literally do everything together, and now you're just—off, doing God knows what, not telling me anything? You're acting weird, Punk."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hated when she was upset with him, but if he gave in now, it would ruin everything.

"Look, can you just drop it? It's not a big deal."

Daisy's expression faltered for a second, hurt flashing across her face before she masked it with frustration.

"Fine. Whatever," she muttered, shaking her head as she grabbed her bag and walked toward the bathroom.

Punk exhaled, rubbing his temples. He felt like an asshole, but it would all be worth it soon.

At least, he hoped so.

As soon as Daisy got out of the shower she didn't has much look at punk , he wanted to keep secrets and act weird , fine she didn't care

But she was also upset that tomorrow was her birthday and she knew punk didn't do stuff like that , and he hadn't even mentioned it being her birthday tomorrow

She knew tomorrow she would just have to act like it was another normal day , so that way she could hide how much it hurt that he truly forgot

And with that she went to sleep , sad and angry at the man beside her

Daisy blinked again, just to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Lilies.

Everywhere.

The floor, the desk, the nightstands—every single surface of the hotel room was covered in her favorite flowers. Soft white petals, delicate and overwhelming all at once. The scent filled the air, warm and sweet, wrapping around her like a hug.

For a moment, she just sat there in bed, staring in disbelief.

No way.

Punk had spent the entire week pretending like he didn't have a clue about her birthday. Not a single mention, not a hint that he remembered. She had convinced herself that he forgot—or worse, that he just didn't care. And she told herself it didn't matter, that it was fine, that she wasn't disappointed.

But now, looking at the absolute insanity of the scene in front of her, she realized just how much it did matter.

She barely had time to process it before the bathroom door opened, and Punk walked out, rubbing a towel through his damp hair.

"Oh," he said, like he hadn't just turned their hotel room into a goddamn floral wonderland. "You're up."

Daisy whipped her head toward him, still trying to comprehend. "Punk—"

"Happy birthday," he said, completely casual, like this wasn't the most ridiculous, over-the-top, sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her.

Daisy threw the blankets off and stood up, still stepping carefully because there were literally flowers everywhere. "Are you—what the hell is this?"

Punk shrugged, but there was a flicker of something smug in his expression. "You like 'em?"

"Like them?" she echoed. "Punk, I—" She looked around again, still stunned. "You knew?"

His lips twitched, as if he was trying not to smirk. "Of course I knew."

Daisy stared at him, all the emotions from the past week crashing into her at once. "You asshole," she said, but there was no heat behind it—only shock, disbelief, and something dangerously close to affection.

Punk chuckled, finally stepping toward her. "I had to sell it, didn't I?"

"You made me think you forgot," she accused, smacking his arm. "I was so mad at you! I—I was sad!"

Punk caught her wrist before she could hit him again, smirking. "Yeah, but this makes it better, right?"

Daisy opened her mouth, ready to argue—but then she looked around again, at all the care, all the thought that had gone into this, and she felt something catch in her throat.

She swallowed, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."

Punk's smirk softened. "Yeah, well. You like ridiculous."

She did. God, she did.

Punk sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "I tried to get us the day off, but Vince is being a dick, so... we still gotta wrestle tonight."

Daisy groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "Of course we do."

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that." He smirked before sitting beside her. "But I wanna take you out to breakfast before we head to the arena."

She raised a brow, turning her head to look at him. "You? Wanna go out to breakfast? With me?"

Punk rolled his eyes. "Yes, with you, dumbass. It's your birthday."

Daisy narrowed her eyes. "You hate going out in public if you don't have to."

"Yeah, well..." He exhaled, looking a little sheepish. "I figured you deserve at least one good part of the day before we have to deal with... all that." He gestured vaguely, obviously meaning the chaos of the locker room, the match, and probably Jeff and Matt, too.

Daisy sat up, watching him closely. "You really planned all this, huh?"

Punk huffed. "Don't make it a thing."

She grinned, unable to help herself. "Oh, it's absolutely a thing."

Punk scowled, but there was no real heat behind it. "Get dressed, brat. We're leaving in fifteen."

Daisy laughed, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at him. "You're such a romantic."

"Yeah, yeah," Punk muttered, standing up and dodging the pillow. But as he grabbed his shirt, she saw the way his ears were just a little pink.

And damn if that didn't make her heart ache in the best way possible.

Daisy sat across from Punk, stirring her coffee absently as she picked at her food. She still couldn't believe he was doing all this. The lilies, the breakfast, actually acknowledging her birthday—it was so unlike him, and yet, it wasn't.

Punk suddenly cursed under his breath, patting his pockets. "Shit, I think I left my wallet in the car. Be right back."

Daisy snorted, rolling her eyes. "Smooth."

He flipped her off as he walked out, making her laugh. She went back to her coffee, not thinking much of it—until he came back a few minutes later.

With ten gift bags in his hands.

Her jaw nearly hit the table. "What the fuck, Punk?"

He set them down beside her, shrugging like it was nothing. "What? It's your birthday."

She blinked, looking at the bags and then back at him. "I—You—You lied about your wallet."

"Yeah, and?" He smirked. "You gonna open these or just sit there looking dumb?"

Daisy huffed but reached for the first bag. The moment she pulled out what was inside, her heart stopped.

A first edition of her favorite book.

She stared at it, wide-eyed, her fingers trailing over the cover. "Punk... this must've cost—"

"Doesn't matter," he cut in, waving off her concern. "I saw it and knew you had to have it."

Her throat tightened. She swallowed and set it aside carefully before reaching for another bag. Inside was a black jacket, sleek and perfectly her style. She pulled it out, admiring it—until she noticed the sleeve.

Her initials, stitched neatly into the fabric. And just beside them, on the wrist—

A tiny X.

She looked up at him, stunned. He just watched her, his expression unreadable.

"Punk..."

"Next one," he said quickly, gesturing to the bags.

She did as he said, pulling out gift after gift. More little things that showed just how well he knew her—a candle in the scent she always wore, a rare vinyl from one of her favorite bands, a necklace with a pendant shaped like a tiny wrestling ring.

And at the bottom of one bag, a card.

Her hands shook as she picked it up. She glanced at him, but he just crossed his arms, nodding toward it.

Taking a breath, she opened it.

Inside, in his unmistakable messy scrawl, was a simple message:

"I don't do birthdays. But I do you. Happy birthday, Daisy."

Her eyes burned. She shut the card quickly, pressing it to her chest before she could get too emotional.

"Punk, I swear to god—"

He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "If you start crying in this diner, I'm leaving you here."

Daisy let out a watery laugh. "You're such an asshole."

He smirked. "Yeah, but I'm your asshole."

She shook her head, biting her lip. "Not officially."

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. But before she could call him on it, he reached for his coffee. "Eat your food, birthday girl."

She watched him for a moment longer, then smiled to herself.

For a guy who didn't do relationships, he sure was making it hard to believe him.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-Chapter 66

As soon as the pair made it backstage after their declaration of partnership... yeah partnership , Jeff and matt stood directly in front of them , Jeff immediately throwing his feels of betrayal and hurt at Daisy

Jeff's words cut through the air like a knife, the weight of them settling heavily between the three of them. Daisy felt her chest tighten, her heart pounding so hard she swore Punk could hear it.

"Jeff, stop," she pleaded, her voice shaking. "Not here. Not now."

But Jeff wasn't backing down. His jaw was tight, eyes burning with betrayal. "No, Daisy. You don't get to run from this. We were a family. Me, you, Matt—we had each other's backs, always. And now you're choosing him over us?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "What the hell happened to you?"

Punk, standing just behind her, crossed his arms but stayed quiet—for now. He wasn't one to back down from a fight, but this wasn't his battle to start. Not yet.

Daisy swallowed hard, looking between Jeff and Matt, desperation in her eyes. "Jeff, please. Just drop it, okay? We can talk later. In private."

Jeff let out a bitter laugh. "You don't want to talk about it here? Why? 'Cause you don't want him to know the truth?" He jabbed a finger toward Punk, his voice dripping with frustration. "Fine, I'll say it for you."

Daisy's breath hitched. She knew what was coming.

"You left me, Jeff," she finally said, her voice cracking, emotion raw. "You left me because you couldn't stay clean." Her words landed hard, the truth of them hanging heavy between them.

Jeff flinched, his face twisting with hurt, but Daisy pressed on, voice thick with emotion. "You know what that did to me. You know what my biggest fear is, and you still—" she exhaled sharply, looking away, her hands trembling. "I'm not trying to throw that in your face, but you hurt me. More than anyone ever has."

Jeff ran a hand through his hair, frustration and regret battling in his expression. "I'm clean now, Daisy," he said, softer this time. "I swear to you."

She let out a bitter laugh, tears threatening to spill. "That's what you said last time, Jeff."

Silence.

Then, Jeff's gaze flickered past her, landing on Punk. His expression darkened. "And you think he's not gonna hurt you?" he snapped, voice laced with disbelief. "You think just because he's straight edge, that means he won't leave you?" He shook his head, letting out a sharp breath. "Wake up, Daisy. He's already hurting you. For God's sake, he kisses you in front of the world, takes you on dates, but he won't even call you his girlfriend."

Punk stiffened.

Daisy felt her stomach drop.

She had no response—because Jeff wasn't wrong.

Daisy's heart raced as she looked at Jeff and Matt, the weight of their words crushing down on her. She could feel Punk's presence behind her, but in this moment, it felt like they were all too far apart. She had to fight for him. She had to defend him.

"Look, I get it," Daisy said, her voice trembling but strong. "I get why you're mad. But this isn't about me choosing Punk over you. It's not like that." She stepped closer to Jeff, her gaze never leaving his. "I love you, you know I do. You were like family. But Punk..." She paused, trying to find the words. "Punk doesn't want to be in a relationship. And I understand that. You have to understand that, too."

Jeff's eyes darkened, his anger not fading. "You're defending him? After everything we've been through? After what he's put you through?"

Matt stood silent, his arms crossed, clearly disappointed but not saying a word.

Daisy's hands balled into fists at her sides, frustration bubbling inside of her. "You think it's easy, Jeff? You think I don't want more? But he's not ready. He's never been ready for a relationship. He's honest about that. And I respect it. Just like I respect the fact that he's never tried to force anything with me."

Jeff scoffed, shaking his head. "You're just going to let him walk all over you, Daisy?"

"No!" she snapped, her voice louder now, the sting of his words hitting her harder than she expected. "I'm not letting him walk all over me. I'm choosing myself—and I'm choosing to trust that Punk is being honest with me."

She turned to Punk, who hadn't spoken yet, still standing behind her, tense and unreadable. "He's never promised me anything he can't give, Jeff. And I'm okay with that."

The room felt heavy with silence. Jeff's face twisted with confusion and hurt, but Daisy kept her gaze steady. She wasn't backing down.

Punk finally spoke up, his voice low but firm. "I'm not here to play games, Jeff. I'm not here to hurt her. She's not a pawn in some damn battle. She's been through enough of that." His eyes met Daisy's, softer now. "She's not a choice for me. She's just... she's her."

Daisy felt a rush of warmth in her chest at his words, though she didn't look back at him. She couldn't let this be about her and Punk, not when she knew what Jeff needed to hear.

"Jeff," she said softly, her voice cracking just a bit, "I'm not trying to replace you. You've been a part of my life, but things change. I've changed." She swallowed thickly, hoping they could understand. "I need to let go of the past. I need to let go of all the old promises that weren't kept."

Jeff clenched his jaw, stepping forward as if he was about to argue again, but Daisy held up a hand. "Please, Jeff. I've made my decision. And you can't keep holding onto me like this. Not if it's just going to tear me apart."

Matt, silent the entire time, finally spoke, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Daisy, I don't want to see you hurt again. Just... think about what you're doing."

Daisy nodded, her heart aching as she looked at the two men she once considered family. She didn't want this confrontation to be about them anymore. She had her own path to walk, and for once, she wasn't going to let anyone dictate it.

"I have thought about it," she said, her voice a little more composed now. "And I'm not asking you to understand, Jeff. But I'm asking you to respect it."

There was a long silence, thick with unspoken words. Then, Jeff let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I can't respect this, Daisy. Not yet."

With that, he turned away, Matt following quietly behind him.

Daisy let out a shaky breath, her body feeling like it was finally able to relax. She turned slowly to Punk, who had been standing quietly behind her, his expression unreadable.

"You okay?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Punk gave a small, tight nod. "I'm good." His eyes softened slightly as he added, "You're a hell of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Daisy gave him a tired smile, reaching out to take his hand. "Thanks for sticking with me."

He squeezed her hand in return. "Always."

As they walked into the hotel room, the weight of everything that had just happened began to settle on Punk's shoulders. The kiss in front of everyone, the choices Daisy had made, and his own refusal to give her what she probably needed. He had done so many things that were more than just casual acts—things that were reserved for someone who mattered to him. Yet, he still couldn't bring himself to say the words, to call her his girlfriend. The fear, the vulnerability, the possibility of hurting her... it was too much.

He stood by the door, his back slightly hunched, lost in his thoughts. He could hear Daisy moving around the room behind him, probably getting ready for bed, but he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of guilt. It wasn't that he didn't care about her—he did, more than he'd ever admitted to himself—but that was the problem. Punk was scared that by giving her what she wanted, he would only end up pushing her away. He couldn't keep being the guy who kept his walls up. And yet, every time he thought about lowering them, his fear took over.

Daisy could sense the shift in the room. She'd been watching him, catching the way his shoulders seemed tense and how he avoided making eye contact. It wasn't like him to be so quiet after everything that had happened.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice gentle as she walked over to him. "What's wrong? You've been quiet since we left."

Punk's head dropped, his mind racing. He knew he couldn't keep lying to her, but he also didn't want to hurt her by saying the truth—the fact that he was terrified of messing things up, of giving her a label and it all crashing down.

He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. "I'm not mad at you, Daisy. It's just... everything's moving fast, and I don't know what to do with all of it."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "What do you mean? I don't get it."

He let out a frustrated breath. "I mean... I'm scared. I did all those things today. Took you on a date, kissed you in front of everyone, and... I don't know. I haven't even asked you to be my girlfriend, and I just... I don't want to mess it all up. You deserve more than me just being scared of that."

Daisy's eyes softened as she stepped closer to him. "Punk... I'm not asking you to be perfect. I'm not asking you to change overnight. I just... want you. Whatever that means. Whether it's a label or not, it doesn't matter to me. But I want you to know you can have me."

Punk looked up at her, the vulnerability in her voice touching him more than he expected. "But what if I screw it up? What if I can't give you what you deserve?"

Daisy gently placed her hand on his chest, looking up at him with steady eyes. "I've never needed perfection, Punk. I've been around long enough to know that. All I need is you—whatever that looks like. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to be scared of that."

A knot in his chest loosened as her words sank in, and he felt a small, vulnerable part of himself start to believe her. She was right—he didn't have to be perfect, and he didn't have to figure everything out right away. She was giving him the space to take things at his own pace.

"I care about you, Daisy," Punk whispered, his voice rough. "More than I've ever cared about anyone."

Daisy smiled softly, her eyes full of understanding. "I know, Punk. I know."

He let out a breath, the pressure easing from his chest as he pulled her into his arms. "So... what does that mean for us?" he asked quietly, still unsure but feeling the pull to finally admit it.

Daisy looked up at him with a grin, her arms wrapped around his neck. "It means we take it one step at a time, together. I'm not in a rush. We don't need a label to know what this is. We just need each other."

Punk held her a little tighter, feeling the weight of his fears lift as he realized that this, whatever it was, felt right. He didn't need to rush into anything. As long as they were in it together, he could breathe.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-chapter 65

As they sat in the locker room, Daisy lacing up her boots while Punk leaned against the bench beside her, he ran a hand through his long, black hair and sighed.

"I'm thinking about cutting it off," he muttered, almost casually.

Daisy's head snapped up so fast he thought she might give herself whiplash. "What?"

Punk smirked at her reaction, but she looked genuinely distraught. "Yeah, I don't know. I've had it long for years. Kinda feels like it's time for a change, y'know?"

Daisy stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "No, I don't know. Why the hell would you want to do that?"

Punk shrugged, clearly amused. "I don't know. Feels like a fresh start or some shit."

Daisy scoffed, grabbing his wrist to stop him from absentmindedly tugging at a loose strand. "That's insane. Your long hair is—" she hesitated, searching for the right words, before blurting out, "perfect."

Punk raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded firmly. "Yes! It's your thing. The long, messy, kinda greasy rockstar-looking hair. It works for you."

He smirked, leaning in slightly. "You just like pulling on it."

Daisy rolled her eyes, but the way her cheeks flushed gave her away. "I mean, yeah, obviously. But that's not the point."

Punk chuckled, tilting his head at her. "So you'd be upset if I chopped it off?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "Very."

Punk pretended to consider it, rubbing his jaw. "Hmm... maybe I should do it then, just to piss you off."

Daisy smacked his arm. "I swear to God, if you cut it, I will fight you."

He grinned. "You fight me every day."

"Yeah, but this time, I won't hold back," she warned.

Punk laughed, reaching out to wrap a lock of his hair around his finger. "Alright, alright. I'll think about it."

Daisy eyed him suspiciously. "No, you'll not think about it. You'll keep your hair exactly the way it is."

Punk smirked. "We'll see."

Daisy huffed, still glaring at him. But deep down, she had a feeling she might have just saved his hair—at least for now.

As they stood in the hallway, waiting for their cue to head to the ring, a couple of wrestlers walked up to them, striking up a conversation.

"Man, I forget how many tattoos you have until I actually stop to look," one of the guys said, nodding at Punk's ink-covered arms. "You ever counted how many you have?"

Punk smirked, glancing down at his arms like he hadn't already memorized every single piece of artwork on his skin. "Lost track a long time ago."

Daisy, standing beside him with her arms crossed, scoffed. "That's a lie. You know exactly how many you have."

Punk shot her a look. "Fine. Maybe I do. But I'm not gonna say it now just to prove you right."

One of the wrestlers laughed. "Daisy, you got a favorite one?"

Daisy perked up at the question, glancing at Punk's tattoos before pointing at one near his wrist. "This one. The 'Straight Edge' one with the X. It's classic, and it's him."

Punk arched a brow. "Out of all my tattoos, that's your favorite?"

She shrugged. "It's the most you. Plus, I like the meaning behind it."

One of the guys nodded. "Yeah, that one's pretty iconic."

Daisy tilted her head, looking at Punk curiously. "You ever gonna get any more?"

Punk considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "Maybe. If I find something that means enough."

Daisy smirked. "What, like a big portrait of my face on your back?"

Punk snorted. "Yeah, let me get that in between the Pepsi logo and the cobra. Real tough guy move."

Daisy laughed. "Hey, it would be an honor."

One of the wrestlers chuckled. "If he ever does, we'll know he's really caught feelings."

Punk rolled his eyes. "Yeah, don't hold your breath."

Daisy just grinned, nudging his arm. But deep down, she couldn't help but wonder what kind of tattoo would mean enough to him to get permanently inked next.

POST MATCH

As Daisy and Punk stood victorious in the ring, catching their breath after a hard-fought match, the sound of No Chance in Hell blasted through the arena speakers. The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and boos as Vince McMahon strutted onto the stage, microphone in hand, a smug expression plastered across his face.

Daisy exchanged a confused glance with Punk, who furrowed his brows, already sensing that whatever was coming wasn't good. Vince didn't just show up unannounced unless he had something dramatic planned.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Vince's voice boomed through the arena. "Let's give a round of applause to your winners tonight—CM Punk and Daisy!"

The audience cheered, but Daisy remained wary, gripping the ropes while Punk stood beside her, arms crossed.

"But you see," Vince continued, pacing across the stage, "I couldn't help but think back to a time when Daisy wasn't standing next to him." He gestured toward Punk, his tone taunting. "No, no, no. I remember a different Daisy. A Daisy who stood by the side of two other men. Two men who made her who she is today—Jeff and Matt Hardy."

The mention of their names sent a wave of nostalgia through the crowd, chants of "Hardy! Hardy!" rippling through the arena.

Daisy's stomach twisted. She hadn't been with the Hardys in a long time, but Vince had a way of digging up the past and using it like a weapon.

"Now, I've been watching," Vince continued, stroking his chin as he took a few more steps forward. "And I see you running around with Punk like you two are some unstoppable force. But let's not forget, Daisy—before CM Punk, there were the Hardys. Basically Your brothers.

Daisy tensed. "Vince, what are you getting at?" she asked, gripping the mic Punk handed her.

Vince smirked. "I'm getting at the fact that it's time for you to make a choice." He let the words hang in the air, the tension thickening. "Do you stand by the side of CM Punk, or do you go back to where you truly belong—with Jeff and Matt?"

The crowd gasped.

Daisy's eyes widened as she turned to Punk, who clenched his jaw, his body stiff. She could see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression, but he didn't say anything. This was her battle.

"You want me to choose right now?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

Vince nodded. "Right here, right now. The world is watching. No more playing both sides. You're either with the Hardys... or with Punk."

The entire arena buzzed with anticipation. Jeff and Matt hadn't even been around lately, but Vince was making this an ultimatum. Daisy swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her ears.

She turned toward Punk, who still hadn't moved. His dark eyes met hers, something unreadable behind them. He wouldn't beg her to stay with him—she knew that. But she could also tell that, despite his usual cocky demeanor, he cared what she would say next.

Daisy took a deep breath. This was her choice. And she was about to make it.

The entire arena held its breath, waiting for Daisy's answer. She felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the building locked onto her, waiting for her to make her choice.

Her mind raced. She thought back to the conversation with Jeff the other day—how he had pulled her aside in front of Punk, how he had tried to convince her to come back and tag with them again. She remembered the way Punk had stood there, tense and brooding, his fists clenched at his sides as he tried to act like he didn't care. But she knew better.

Then came the memories—the years she had spent with Jeff and Matt, traveling together, wrestling together, being a family. Jeff was her best friend. Losing him had hurt. She missed him. She missed the wild, carefree energy of being part of the Hardys. Being with them had shaped her career, had made her who she was.

But then... she thought about Punk.

She thought about how much had changed since she started tagging with him. How much he had changed. How much she had changed. The way he had taken her to breakfast, found a theater playing her favorite movie, taken her to a fancy dinner—all without expecting anything in return. The way he had pushed the bill toward her just to remind her that this was a date, that he had thought about her, had remembered what she had said all those months ago.

And then, for just a second, she let herself imagine what it would feel like to not be around him anymore. To go back to her old life, to stand beside Jeff and Matt again—but without Punk. Without his sarcasm, his stubbornness, his stupid smirks, his hands on her, his late-night confessions, his everything.

Her stomach twisted.

She looked up at Punk. He was staring at her, his expression unreadable, but she could see it—he was bracing himself. Preparing for the inevitable. Of course she would choose Jeff. That's what Punk thought. That's what everyone thought.

But they were wrong.

Daisy took a deep breath, then reached out and grabbed Punk's hand.

"I choose Punk."

The moment the words left her mouth, the arena erupted. Fans were on their feet, some cheering, some booing, but all reacting.

Punk's entire body went rigid. His eyes snapped down to their joined hands, then back to her face, like he didn't quite believe what he had just heard.

Vince raised a single eyebrow, clearly surprised. "You're sure?" he asked, testing her. "You're choosing him over—"

"Yes," Daisy cut him off. She squeezed Punk's hand tighter, her voice firm. "I'm sure."

Punk finally snapped out of his stunned silence, and in true Punk fashion, he turned toward Vince with a cocky smirk. "Well, there you have it, old man," he said, wrapping an arm around Daisy's shoulders and pulling her close. "She's with me."

Vince scowled but didn't argue. Instead, he let out a dismissive scoff and turned to leave, clearly not getting the drama he had hoped for.

As soon as Vince disappeared backstage, Punk turned to Daisy, still looking at her like he couldn't believe what had just happened. "You chose me," he muttered, almost to himself.

Daisy rolled her eyes, playfully nudging his chest. "Of course I did, dumbass."

A slow, satisfied grin spread across Punk's face. Then, without warning, he grabbed her by the waist, lifted her off the ground, and kissed her—right there, in the middle of the ring, in front of everyone.

As soon as Punk's lips crashed onto Daisy's, the entire arena exploded. The crowd erupted into cheers, a mix of shocked gasps, deafening screams, and playful "Ooooh!" reactions from the fans.

The commentators went insane.

"Oh my god! Did that just happen?!" one of them shouted.

"CM Punk just kissed Daisy in the middle of the ring! Are we witnessing the start of something bigger here?!"

"This is unbelievable! Daisy had the chance to reunite with her longtime best friend Jeff Hardy, and instead, she chose Punk—and now this?!"

The camera panned across the crowd, capturing the wide-eyed, open-mouthed reactions of fans losing their minds.

Punk didn't let up. He kissed her hard, his hand gripping the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. Daisy melted into it, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer. It was raw, messy, real—not some staged, overly dramatic wrestling moment. This was them.

When they finally broke apart, both of them slightly breathless, Punk smirked down at her, still holding her close. "Well," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear over the chaos of the arena. "Guess we just gave 'em something to talk about."

Daisy huffed a laugh, her forehead resting against his. "Yeah," she murmured. "I think we did."

The moment would be replayed for weeks. GIFs would flood social media within minutes. But in that moment, none of that mattered.

Because, for the first time, everyone knew—Daisy and Punk were undeniable.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-Chapter 64

As Punk hovered over Daisy, his body pressing her into the mattress, he teased her with slow, deliberate movements, dragging his length against her soaked folds. The heat between them was undeniable, their bodies perfectly in sync, the tension that had been simmering between them all day finally reaching its boiling point.

Daisy tilted her head, her lips brushing against his jaw before trailing down to his neck. "I've been wanting you all day," she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.

Punk let out a low, satisfied hum, his hands gripping her hips as he continued to tease her. "Yeah?" His voice was rough, dark with desire. "You should've said something earlier."

Daisy let out a breathy laugh, rolling her hips up against him. "Like you didn't already know."

Punk smirked, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, consuming kiss. "Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it," he murmured against her mouth.

Her fingers raked through his hair, tugging slightly, making him groan. "I don't think I've ever wanted anyone the way I want you," she admitted softly, her voice laced with honesty and lust.

Punk exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against hers as he took in her words. His thumb brushed over her cheek, an unusual tenderness in his touch. "You really know how to get to me, don't you?"

Daisy grinned, her hands roaming over his back. "I think you like it."

Punk chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips before whispering, "Yeah, I really do."

Punk hovered over her, his breath warm against her lips as he slowly guided himself against her slick heat, teasing her with just the slightest pressure. His hands roamed over her body, tracing every curve like he was memorizing her, like he wanted to take his time—like he needed to.

Daisy's fingers curled into his shoulders, her nails dragging lightly over his skin as she arched into him. "You're teasing me," she whispered, her voice already breathless.

Punk smirked, pressing his forehead to hers. "I thought you liked it when I took my time." His voice was low, rough, and full of something almost dangerous—something that made her shiver. "You've been squirming for me all day, Daisy. Thought you'd be a little more patient."

She let out a small, desperate whimper that only made him harder. "I don't want patience," she admitted, kissing his jaw, his neck, anywhere she could reach. "I want you."

His resolve cracked. With a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, he finally sank into her, inch by inch, groaning at how tight and warm she was. Daisy gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even deeper.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," Punk murmured against her lips, his hands cradling her face as he started moving, slow and deep, making sure she felt every inch of him. "So soft. So wet. You love this, don't you?"

Daisy moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair as she nodded. "Yes—" Her voice hitched as he pushed in deeper, grinding against her just right.

Punk smirked, watching her face, watching how every slow thrust made her fall apart beneath him. "Say it," he coaxed, his lips brushing over hers but never quite kissing her. "Tell me how much you love it."

"I love it," she gasped, tilting her head back as pleasure flooded her veins. "I love the way you—" Another slow, deep thrust stole her breath. "The way you fill me up. The way you move."

"Yeah?" Punk's voice was thick with desire, his own restraint wearing thin. "Then take it, baby. Take all of me."

He gripped her hips, holding her in place as he moved a little deeper, a little harder, his pace still slow but deliberate. Every thrust was meant to make her feel him everywhere, to make her remember this, to make sure she knew he wasn't just fucking her—he was claiming her in a way that neither of them had words for yet.

Daisy met his gaze, her pupils blown wide, her lips parted, her entire body responding to him in a way that made his head spin. "Punk—" Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried weight.

"Shh," he murmured, kissing her softly, tenderly, a contrast to the intensity between them. "I got you, Daisy. Just feel me."

And she did. Every slow, deep thrust. Every breathy moan against her skin. Every whispered, dirty word that made her shudder beneath him.

This was different. They both knew it. Neither of them wanted to admit it. But in this moment, in this bed, there was nothing but them.

And Punk wasn't ready to let her go.

Punk could feel Daisy tightening around him, her body tensing, her breath coming out in shaky little gasps. He smirked against her lips, never breaking his rhythm, keeping his thrusts slow and deep, making sure she felt every inch of him dragging along her walls.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with hunger. "I can feel how close you are. You gonna come for me?"

Daisy whimpered, her nails sinking into his back as she arched against him. "Punk—"

He reached between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles. The moment he did, she cried out, her body shuddering under him.

"God, you're so fuckin' sensitive," he groaned, his thumb pressing just right. "You love this, don't you? Love when I take my time with you, make you lose it."

Daisy was barely able to respond, overwhelmed by the way he was working her body, the way he was pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel the pleasure building so intensely it was almost unbearable, a coil tightening deep in her core.

Punk leaned down, nipping at her jaw before whispering against her ear, "Come for me, baby. Let go."

And then he thrust deep, grinding his hips against her as his fingers worked her clit, sending her tumbling over the edge.

Daisy's entire body locked up, her breath catching as the orgasm ripped through her. A high, broken moan escaped her lips as a sudden rush of release soaked both of them, drenching his thighs, his stomach, the sheets beneath them.

"Fuck—" Punk groaned, his eyes widening slightly as he felt the way she gushed all over him. "That's it, Daisy. That's my fuckin' girl."

She was trembling, gasping, her thighs shaking as she rode out the aftershocks. But Punk wasn't done. He slowed his movements, rolling his hips against her overstimulated core, dragging out every last drop of pleasure.

And then, because he couldn't help himself, he slid his fingers through the mess she'd made on him, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean.

"Fuckin' love that," he muttered, his eyes never leaving hers.

Daisy's breath hitched, her body still twitching from the aftershocks.

"You're so gross" Daisy giggled out

"Only for you"

As they lay tangled in the sheets, Daisy still trying to catch her breath, Punk propped himself up on one elbow, smirking down at her. His other hand lazily traced circles on her bare stomach, his fingers teasing along the curve of her waist.

"You know," he started, his voice thick with satisfaction, "I think that's, what? The third time I've made you squirt?"

Daisy groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Oh my God, shut up."

Punk chuckled, prying her hands away so he could see her flustered expression. "Nah, I don't think I will," he teased. "I mean, I should be keeping count at this point. It's actually impressive."

She rolled her eyes, but he could see the way her lips twitched, fighting back a smile. "Oh, so now you're keeping score?"

"Damn right," he said smugly. "I mean, not every guy can say they've made a girl completely soak them multiple times. But me?" He flashed a cocky grin. "I've got a streak going."

Daisy playfully shoved his chest, but he barely budged, laughing as he caught her wrist and pressed a slow, teasing kiss to the inside of it. "You love it," he murmured against her skin.

She huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but the warmth in her gaze gave her away. "You're so full of yourself."

"And whose fault is that?" he shot back, arching a brow. "You keep reacting like that, what am I supposed to do? Not enjoy it?"

Daisy bit her lip, shaking her head at him. "You're impossible."

Punk leaned in, brushing his lips against hers, his voice dropping lower. "And you're incredible."

For once, there was no teasing in his tone, just honesty. And that—more than anything—left Daisy completely speechless.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-Chapter 63

As they ate, the conversation flowed like it always did—filled with teasing, inside jokes, and playful bickering. Punk complained about how she took forever getting ready, and Daisy rolled her eyes, pointing out that he was the one who dragged her all over the city without telling her why.

The waitress kept lingering at their table, her smiles just a little too flirty, her attention on Punk just a little too obvious. Daisy noticed it immediately.

"Oh my god," she whispered once the waitress walked away again. "She totally has a crush on you."

Punk snorted. "What? No, she doesn't."

"Are you blind?" Daisy laughed, leaning in. "She's been over here, like, ten times and keeps touching your arm."

Punk smirked. "You jealous, sweetheart?"

Daisy scoffed. "Jealous? No. Entertained? Absolutely."

Punk rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the way his lips twitched in amusement. It was easy with them—effortless. It didn't feel forced, didn't feel complicated. She felt comfortable, happy. She couldn't even remember the last time she had this much fun with someone without worrying about what it meant or if there was some unspoken expectation behind it.

When the check finally arrived Punk casually slid the bill across the table toward her.

She blinked at him. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"You're paying," he said simply, leaning back in his chair.

Her brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Punk smirked, tilting his head. "You said it yourself, months ago at the diner. You told me that you'd pay for our first official date."

Her brain stalled. "Wait... what?"

"This was a date, Daisy," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The realization hit her like a freight train. The arboretum. The paddle boats. The rare Fight Club screening. The fancy dinner. He had planned all of it—for her. And he had called it a date.

Her chest tightened, emotion bubbling up so fast she didn't have time to stop it. No one had ever done anything like this for her before. Not a single person in her life had put this much thought and effort into making her feel special.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. "I..." She let out a small, shaky laugh, shaking her head. "I don't think anyone's ever done something like this for me before."

Punk's smirk faltered, his face softening in a way she rarely saw. "Daisy..."

She exhaled, her fingers toying with the edge of the napkin in her lap. "Nobody has ever thought about me like this. Not like... this."

Punk shifted in his seat, looking like he wasn't sure what to do with the weight of her words. "Well, yeah. Most people are fucking idiots."

She laughed—a real, genuine laugh—and he smirked, clearly pleased that he'd made her smile. But she could still feel the lump in her throat, the overwhelming gratitude swirling in her chest.

She hadn't even processed the fact that he had called this their first official date. Not just a date, but the first. Like there would be more. Like this wasn't just some random nice thing he did but the start of something.

She sniffled, wiping under her eye before any tears could fall. "Seriously, Punk. Thank you."

His smirk twitched, something softer flickering behind his eyes before he quickly looked away. "Don't mention it."

And she still didn't even know about the necklace.

Punk rolled his eyes as he grabbed the bill off the table, slipping his card into the holder before Daisy could protest.

"Punk—"

"What kind of asshole makes a woman pay for dinner?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "That's insane. You really thought I was gonna let you do that?"

Daisy crossed her arms, giving him a knowing smirk. "You were pretty convincing."

"Yeah, well, I like messing with you," he admitted. "But I'm not that much of a dick."

Daisy couldn't stop smiling, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. "You just took me on an entire date and called it that out loud. I think you might be catching feels, Punk."

Punk let out a dry laugh, sitting back with his arms crossed. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" she teased. "Because if I recall correctly, you swore you didn't do relationships. You swore you wouldn't catch feelings. You swore up and down that this was just us having fun. But now?" She leaned in, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Now you're taking me on dates and getting all soft on me."

Punk gave her a flat look. "I took you out so you'd shut up for a day."

Daisy gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Wow. You know, for someone who just did something so sweet, you really suck at admitting it."

"I didn't admit anything," he said stubbornly, signing the check before standing up. "Now, are you coming or what?"

She laughed as she followed him out of the restaurant, walking side by side through the cool night air.

As they made their way back to the hotel, Daisy kept sneaking glances at him, unable to hide the amusement on her face. "So, what's next? Flowers? Love letters? Are we gonna start holding hands in public?"

Punk groaned. "You're so fucking annoying."

"And yet, you keep taking me on dates," she singsonged.

"It was one date," he grumbled. "And it doesn't mean anything."

Daisy smirked, nudging his arm. "Keep telling yourself that, loverboy."

Punk shot her a glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched—just enough for her to know that, deep down, he knew she was right.

Daisy was mid-sentence, still teasing him about catching feelings, when Punk suddenly closed the space between them.

"Oh, so what's next? Matching outfits? Maybe a—"

He cut her off, his hands gripping her waist as he pushed her back against the wall of the hotel hallway. His mouth crashed onto hers, silencing any more of her teasing.

Daisy barely had time to process it before she melted into him. His lips were rough, demanding, but there was something else—something deeper, something almost desperate. Like he was trying to prove something, to her or to himself, she wasn't sure.

Her hands slid up his chest, grabbing onto the collar of his hoodie as he pressed himself flush against her. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her in place like he didn't want her to go anywhere.

She let out a breathless laugh between kisses. "So I was right, huh?"

Punk groaned, his forehead dropping to hers. "Shut up, Daisy."

"Make me," she whispered, a smug smirk on her lips.

And he did.

His mouth was back on hers instantly, kissing her harder this time. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't soft. It was a fight—just like everything between them.

Punk didn't break the kiss as he guided her backward, his hands firm on her waist as he walked her toward the bed. Daisy barely had time to breathe before the backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she tumbled onto it with him right on top of her.

"In a rush, are we?" she teased, smirking up at him.

Punk's response was a low chuckle, his fingers threading through her hair as he tilted her head back. "You're the one running your mouth, sweetheart." His voice was rough, his breath warm against her lips before he kissed her again—slower this time, deeper.

Daisy's hands slid under his hoodie, feeling the hard planes of his stomach, the heat of his skin. Punk groaned softly at her touch, pressing himself closer, his weight settling against her in a way that made her stomach flip.

His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then lower, pressing slow, deliberate kisses down her neck. "You still wanna talk?" he murmured against her skin, his smirk evident even as he kissed just beneath her ear.

Daisy's breath hitched, her grip tightening on his hoodie. "M-maybe..."

Punk laughed, shaking his head before nipping lightly at her neck, making her squirm beneath him. "That's what I thought."

Punk's hands roamed over Daisy's body as he kissed her deeply, his fingers working at the hem of her top. He tugged it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head before tossing it to the floor. His hands immediately returned to her, running along her bare skin as his lips found her neck again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to her collarbone.

"You know," he murmured between kisses, "for someone who swears they're not in love with me, you sure didn't argue about this being a date."

Daisy let out a breathy laugh, her nails digging lightly into his back. "You didn't exactly give me time to argue before you were shoving your tongue down my throat."

Punk pulled back just enough to smirk down at her, his hands already working at the clasp of her bra. "Oh, sweetheart," he teased, "you could've stopped me anytime."

"And miss out on this?" Daisy arched a brow, feigning innocence. "That would be a tragedy."

Punk chuckled darkly, finally getting her bra undone and sliding it off her shoulders. His eyes dragged over her exposed skin, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he took his time admiring her. "Fuck, Daisy," he murmured, his hands sliding up her sides. "You're fucking unreal."

She felt heat rush to her cheeks but didn't have time to respond before Punk's lips were back on her, his mouth moving down, kissing along the curve of her breast before taking her nipple into his mouth.

Daisy gasped, her back arching as she tangled her fingers in his hair. "Shit—Punk—"

"Mmm?" He hummed against her skin, his teeth grazing her lightly before he pulled away to smirk up at her. "Thought you liked running your mouth?"

Daisy tried to glare at him, but the way his hands were trailing down her stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of her jeans, had her losing focus. "You're so—ah—smug," she breathed as he unbuttoned her pants, sliding them down her hips.

"And you fucking love it." Punk smirked before pressing a hot kiss to her stomach. "Now be a good girl and lift your hips for me."

Daisy swallowed hard but did as he said, letting him peel the rest of her clothes away until she was bare beneath him. He took his time, his hands roaming, his lips following, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touched.

"You're staring," she murmured, shifting under his gaze.

"Yeah?" Punk's smirk softened just slightly. "Can you blame me?"

Daisy bit her lip, her heart flipping at the way he was looking at her. "Your turn."

Punk chuckled. "Oh? You gonna undress me, sweetheart?"

Daisy smirked, pushing herself up enough to grab the hem of his hoodie. "You got a problem with that?"

"Not at all." He let her tug it up, lifting his arms so she could pull it off him.

Her hands trailed down his chest, her fingers tracing the tattoos along his torso. "You really are pretty, you know that?"

Punk scoffed, rolling his eyes even as his lips twitched. "You trying to ruin the moment?"

"No," she said simply, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "Just stating facts."

Punk exhaled sharply, his hands gripping her hips. "You're gonna fucking kill me, Daisy."

"That's the goal, sweetheart." She grinned before reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric. "Now, are you gonna let me return the favor, or are you just gonna keep talking?"

Punk let out a sharp breath as Daisy's lips moved lower, pressing slow, teasing kisses down his stomach. His hands curled into fists at his sides, watching as she inched closer, her fingers slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Daisy," he groaned as she tugged them down, his cock springing free.

She looked up at him through her lashes, a smirk playing at her lips. "Relax, Punk. I just wanna make you feel good after today."

"Today was about you," he tried to argue, but his words faltered as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking him slowly.

"And now," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his tip, "I want it to be about you."

Punk let out a ragged exhale, his head falling back for a moment as she licked a slow stripe along the underside of his cock. "Fuck, Daisy..."

She hummed in response, taking him into her mouth inch by inch, her tongue swirling around his head as she hollowed her cheeks. Punk's hands instinctively found her hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he let out a low moan.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned, his hips twitching as she took him deeper. "You're so fucking good at that."

Daisy pulled back just enough to smirk up at him. "Yeah?"

"You fucking know you are," Punk muttered, his grip tightening slightly in her hair as she dipped back down, bobbing her head at a steady pace. "Shit—just like that, sweetheart."

As she worked him over, her own arousal was building, the heat pooling between her legs becoming unbearable. She squeezed her thighs together, shifting slightly, but Punk noticed immediately.

"Yeah," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "I fucking knew it."

Daisy blinked up at him, her brows furrowing slightly in question.

"This gets you off, doesn't it?" Punk smirked, his free hand moving to her cheek, brushing his thumb along her skin. "You love this—sucking my cock, making me fall apart for you."

Daisy whimpered around him, her eyes fluttering shut as his words sent a fresh wave of heat through her.

"Go ahead, baby," he urged, his voice dripping with authority. "Touch yourself. I know you want to."

Daisy hesitated for only a second before slipping a hand between her legs, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against her clit. The sensation sent a shudder through her, a soft moan vibrating around Punk's length.

"Fuck—yeah, just like that," Punk groaned, his eyes locked on her as she pleasured herself. "Such a good fucking girl."

The praise sent a thrill through Daisy, and she moaned again, picking up her pace as she took him deeper, letting the tip of him hit the back of her throat.

"Shit—fuck, Daisy," Punk cursed, his hips jerking slightly. "Watching you get off while you suck my cock? That's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Daisy whimpered, lost in the moment, her fingers working faster as her arousal built to a fever pitch. Punk could feel the vibrations of her moans, the way her body was trembling, and it sent him dangerously close to the edge.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he rasped, his jaw clenched as he fought to hold back. "Gonna come while my cock is in your mouth?"

Daisy moaned again, her movements becoming desperate as she chased her release.

"That's it, baby," Punk encouraged, his grip in her hair tightening. "Come for me. Let me feel it."

A sharp cry left her, muffled around him, as she finally tipped over the edge, her body shaking as pleasure tore through her. The sensation sent Punk spiraling, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as his own release followed, his hips stuttering as he spilled into her mouth.

Daisy swallowed around him, savoring the taste, before slowly pulling back, licking her lips as she looked up at him with a dazed, satisfied expression.

Punk stared down at her, his chest rising and falling heavily, before letting out a breathless chuckle. "You're fucking dangerous, Daisy."

She smirked, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "You love it."

Punk let out a low, amused hum, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, sweetheart. I fucking do."

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-Chapter 62

As they strolled through the charming streets of downtown, stopping in and out of little shops, Daisy was in her element. She loved places like this—quaint, personal, filled with hidden treasures. Punk, on the other hand, mostly trailed behind her, hands in his hoodie pockets, pretending to be indifferent. But in reality, he was watching her, taking in the way her eyes lit up when she found something she liked.

When they entered a small jewelry boutique, Daisy gravitated toward a glass display case near the front. Inside, delicate gold and silver chains shimmered under the warm lighting, each one adorned with small charms and pendants. She stopped in front of one necklace in particular—a thin gold chain with a daisy-shaped pendant resting at the center.

Punk watched as she hesitated, biting her lip in thought. After a moment, she leaned down and softly asked the clerk for the price. The woman behind the counter told her, and Daisy's expression barely changed—just a small flicker of disappointment in her eyes before she nodded, carefully setting the necklace back down.

Punk didn't say anything, but he filed the moment away.

They left the shop, Daisy making some offhand comment about how cute everything was in there, but Punk could tell she was still thinking about that necklace.

A few minutes later, they found themselves at a small café down the street. It was a cozy little place, filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries. They took a seat by the window, and Daisy excitedly flipped through the menu.

"You have to try their croissants," she told him. "I read online that they're supposed to be amazing."

Punk smirked. "You and your baked goods obsession."

"It's not an obsession. It's an appreciation," she corrected, grinning. "There's a difference."

Before Punk could fire back, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and immediately stood up.

"I gotta take this," he said abruptly. "Be right back."

Daisy blinked up at him. "Who is it?"

"Nobody," he replied quickly.

Her eyes narrowed. "Nobody? You just jumped out of your seat like your life depended on it."

"Just order for me. I'll be back."

Before she could question him further, he was already out the door.

Daisy sat there, suspicious. Punk was not the type to suddenly need to answer his phone, much less leave the café just to take a call. Something was up.

Meanwhile, Punk was making his way back toward the jewelry shop. The moment he stepped inside, the woman behind the counter smiled, recognizing him from earlier.

"Changed your mind?" she asked knowingly.

Punk sighed. "Yeah. Just ring it up before I change it again."

The woman chuckled, pulling out the necklace Daisy had admired and carefully placing it in a small gift box. Punk handed over his card, not even thinking twice about it. He didn't know why he was doing this—well, actually, he did. He just didn't want to admit it.

Once the transaction was complete, he stuffed the tiny box into his pocket and made his way back to the café.

When he slid back into his seat, Daisy immediately fixed him with a look. "Who was that?"

"Nobody," he said, picking up his coffee like nothing happened.

"Okay, but 'Nobody' doesn't usually make people leave the table like they're on a mission," she pointed out. "You're acting weird."

Punk smirked. "Wouldn't be the first time you said that."

"You're deflecting."

"You're paranoid."

Daisy huffed, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Fine. Keep your little secret. But I'm onto you."

Punk just took a sip of his coffee, the small box in his pocket pressing against his leg. He smirked to himself.

She'd find out soon enough.

As they left the café, Daisy stretched her arms above her head, sighing contently. "That was so nice," she said. "Downtown is so cute. I didn't expect to have this much fun today."

Punk glanced at her with a smirk. "You think we're done?"

Daisy turned to him with a curious look. "We're not?"

He shook his head, motioning for her to follow him as they continued walking. "Nope. One more stop."

"Where?"

"You'll see," he said, keeping his voice purposely cryptic.

Daisy groaned dramatically. "Why are you so secretive today?"

"Maybe I just like messing with you," he teased.

They walked for a few more blocks until they arrived in front of a small, old-school movie theater. The marquee above the entrance listed several classic films, but Daisy didn't even bother to read them—she was too busy staring at Punk in confusion.

"A movie?" she asked. "You're taking me to a movie?"

"That's what people do in their free time, Daisy," Punk said dryly. "They eat, they shop, they see movies. Welcome to normal human activities."

"Okay, but what movie?" she asked, squinting at him.

Punk just smirked. "Guess you'll find out when we sit down."

Daisy sighed but followed him inside. The theater was small, vintage-looking, with a cozy atmosphere. Punk bought their tickets while Daisy grabbed some popcorn, and soon enough, they found their seats.

As the lights dimmed and the film started, Daisy's heart nearly stopped when the title appeared on screen.

"Fight Club."

She gasped, immediately turning to Punk with wide eyes. "No fucking way."

Punk just smirked, acting nonchalant. "What? It's just a movie."

"It's not just a movie!" she whisper-shouted, gripping his arm. "It's my favorite movie of all time! And it's 2006—how the hell did you even find a theater showing it?"

He shrugged. "Got my ways."

Daisy turned back to the screen, still in shock. "I can't believe this. I've only ever seen it on DVD. Seeing it in a theater? This is insane."

Punk didn't say anything, just watched as she practically vibrated with excitement, her eyes glued to the screen.

Halfway through the movie, she leaned over and whispered, "This is the best surprise ever."

Punk glanced at her, and for a second, he felt something tighten in his chest. He quickly shook it off, muttering, "Yeah, yeah, just watch the damn movie."

But Daisy wasn't fooled—she saw the tiny, pleased smirk he was trying to hide.

Without even thinking, Daisy reached over and pressed a big, sweet kiss to Punk's cheek. It was soft, lingering for just a second longer than necessary, and when she pulled away, she found him staring at her with wide eyes.

"What was that for?" he asked, clearly caught off guard.

She shrugged, grinning. "For being the best. Seriously, this is amazing, Punk."

For a moment, he just looked at her, like he was trying to process what had just happened. Then, he scoffed, shaking his head as he turned back to the screen. "You're such a sap," he muttered, but the tips of his ears were red.

Daisy just smirked, leaning back into her seat, feeling warmer than she had all day.

Punk couldn't help but watch Daisy more than the movie. Every time a big scene happened, her eyes would light up, her lips parting slightly as she mouthed along with some of the dialogue. She'd shift in her seat, completely engrossed, her excitement radiating off her in waves.

When Tyler Durden first appeared on screen, she grabbed Punk's arm, squeezing it as if she were seeing it for the first time. "This part is so good," she whispered, her voice filled with anticipation.

Punk just smirked. "You've seen this a million times, Daisy."

"Yeah, but it never gets old!" she shot back, her eyes never leaving the screen.

As the movie went on, Punk found himself enjoying it in a way he never had before—because he was seeing it through her eyes. The way she reacted to the twists, the way she leaned forward slightly, completely lost in the story, made it all worth it.

At one point, she glanced over at him, catching him staring. "What?" she asked, playfully suspicious.

Punk just shook his head, turning back to the screen. "Nothing. Just... you really love this damn movie."

Daisy grinned, nudging him. "And you love that I love it."

Punk rolled his eyes, but he didn't deny it.

As they walked out of the theater, Punk casually slipped his arm around Daisy's shoulders. "You hungry?" he asked, glancing down at her.

Daisy thought for a second before realizing, "Shit, yeah. I've barely eaten today. Just that croissant at the cafe."

Punk gave her a look. "A croissant? That's it?"

She shrugged. "I got distracted with everything we were doing. But now that you mention it, I'm starving."

Punk smirked. "Good. I know a place."

Daisy expected him to take her to some hole-in-the-wall diner or maybe a food truck, but when they pulled up to an upscale Italian restaurant with soft lighting and valet parking, she looked at him in shock. "You're taking me here?"

Punk just smirked as he tossed his keys to the valet. "Yeah, why?"

"Because this place is, like, super fancy," she said, looking down at her casual outfit. "We're not even dressed for this."

Punk rolled his eyes, taking her hand and leading her inside. "We'll be fine."

Once they were seated at a candlelit table, Daisy picked up the menu and gasped. "Punk, this place is expensive!"

"And?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You deserve a good meal. Eat whatever you want."

Daisy stared at him for a moment, her heart flipping at the unexpected sweetness. "You're being really nice today," she teased. "What's your angle?"

Punk smirked. "No angle. Just shut up and order, Daisy."

She laughed, shaking her head as she looked at the menu, feeling ridiculously touched by the gesture.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-chapter 61

Daisy stared out the window as Punk drove, watching the city pass by. She kept glancing over at him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?"

Punk, keeping one hand lazily on the wheel, just smirked. "Nope."

She huffed, leaning back into her seat. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here you are, trusting me anyway," he teased, throwing her a quick glance.

Daisy rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself. They drove in comfortable silence for a bit before Punk finally pulled into a parking lot.

She looked out the window, her brow furrowing. "The arboretum?"

Punk put the car in park and stretched, acting like it was no big deal. "Yep."

Daisy blinked at him. "You brought me to a damn botanical garden?"

He shrugged. "You said your favorite flowers were lilies, but I didn't know what kind. Figured you could show me."

Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Out of all the things he could've done—out of all the ways he could've annoyed or messed with her—he brought her here?

She swallowed, trying to ignore the way her chest suddenly felt tight. "That's... surprisingly thoughtful of you."

Punk scoffed, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Don't get used to it. Now, c'mon."

Daisy sat there for a second, just looking at him. And then, without another word, she followed him out of the car.

As they walked through the arboretum, Daisy pointed excitedly at different flowers, stopping every few feet to admire them. "Oh, look at these! These are Peruvian lilies. I love how delicate they are."

Punk, hands in his pockets, just smirked as he watched her. "You really love flowers, huh?"

Daisy shot him a look. "Well, duh. My name is literally Daisy."

Punk chuckled. "Fair point." He paused, looking at a patch of daisies nearby. "So... that means daisies should be your favorite actually"

She made a face. "God, no. They're cute, but it feels weird picking my own namesake as a favorite. Like, 'Wow, I love myself so much.'"

Punk snorted. "I mean, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you did."

Daisy rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth in her chest at his words. They kept walking, the sun filtering through the trees, the scent of flowers surrounding them. It was peaceful—something she didn't get often in her life.

Punk, usually restless and always looking for something to argue about, was just... here. With her. Letting her enjoy this moment.

She glanced over at him, watching as he lazily trailed beside her. "You're actually being kinda sweet right now," she noted. "Who are you, and what have you done with Punk?"

Punk smirked. "Don't get used to it, Princess. This is a one-time thing."

"Uh-huh," she said, unconvinced. But instead of pushing, she just linked her arm through his and kept walking, letting herself enjoy whatever this was.

As they made their way toward the lake, Punk casually mentioned, "They've got paddle boats you can rent. You wanna go out on the water?"

Daisy's eyes lit up instantly. "Oh my God, yes! Please, please, please?" she begged, grabbing his arm and shaking it dramatically.

Punk rolled his eyes but smirked. "Alright, alright, calm down. You're acting like I just told you I got you a puppy or something."

"Well, I've never done this before," she admitted as they approached the dock.

"Seriously?" Punk looked at her like she'd just confessed to never seeing a classic movie. "What kind of childhood did you have?"

She shot him a look. "One where my mom would rather me sit still and be 'ladylike' instead of doing fun shit."

Punk frowned but didn't push it. Instead, he stepped onto the boat first, reaching out his hand to help her in. "Alright, well, let's fix that then."

Once they were both seated, they started paddling out onto the lake, the water calm and reflecting the afternoon sun. It was peaceful, just the occasional sound of birds and the light splashing from their paddles.

At some point, Daisy turned to say something to Punk but stopped, blinking. Behind his ear, tucked neatly into his dark hair, was a daisy flower.

Her lips parted in surprise before curling into a smile. "Where the hell did you get that?"

Punk smirked. "Picked it when you weren't looking."

Her heart did a weird little flip. "You're seriously just walking around, picking flowers now?"

He shrugged, acting nonchalant. "I figured if anyone should wear one, it should be you. But you were too busy being a menace, so I kept it for myself."

Daisy laughed, shaking her head. "It actually looks kinda cute on you," she admitted before reaching out and adjusting it slightly.

Punk gave her a dry look. "Don't get any ideas, Princess. I'm not turning into some flower-loving soft guy."

"Mmmhmm," Daisy hummed, clearly not believing him.

Punk just rolled his eyes, but he didn't take the flower out. Instead, he leaned back slightly, stretching his arms out behind him as they floated further onto the lake, a rare, comfortable silence settling between them.

Daisy tilted her head, staring at the small white and yellow flower behind Punk's ear. "You do realize that's a daisy, right?"

Punk smirked, pretending to be oblivious. "Oh yeah? Didn't notice."

She scoffed. "Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing."

He turned his head to look at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. Who's to say?"

Daisy narrowed her eyes at him. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet," Punk leaned in just slightly, just enough to make her heart race, "you're still here on this boat with me."

Daisy rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. "Only because I begged."

"Right. Because you just had to be on a boat today," Punk teased.

"And because you actually like me," she shot back.

Punk's smirk faltered for just a second—just a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. Then, just as quickly, he scoffed and looked away, paddling a little harder. "Don't push your luck, Princess."

Daisy bit her lip, watching him. The daisy flower behind his ear bobbed slightly with his movements, and something warm spread through her chest. He could play it off all he wanted, but she knew. He was full of shit. And she kinda loved it.

As they reached the car, Daisy stretched her arms above her head, sighing happily. "That was so fun," she said, glancing at Punk. "I didn't think you had it in you to actually plan something nice."

Punk rolled his eyes but smirked. "Glad to know the bar is set so low for me."

She laughed, nudging him playfully. "I mean, you do hate everything."

"Not everything," Punk muttered, barely audible.

Daisy raised a brow. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, opening the car door. But before she could hop in, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "Fun's not over, Princess."

She tilted her head. "Oh?"

Punk smirked. "We're gonna walk around the city for a bit. Thought you might like it."

Daisy blinked in surprise. "Wait... you planned a whole day for me?"

He scoffed. "Don't get all emotional about it."

"Too late," she teased, grinning. "Lead the way, Mr. Romantic."

Punk groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets as they started walking. "You really know how to ruin a moment."

Daisy just laughed, linking her arm through his without thinking. "And yet, you keep planning them."

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-chapter 60

As they stepped out into the parking lot, Punk kept his hand on the small of Daisy's back, keeping her close. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, her posture heavy, and the last thing she needed right now was another reason to feel less than.

Of course, Trish was waiting near the rental cars, leaning casually against the hood of her own, eyes flicking straight to Punk like she had a plan.

"Hey, Punk," she purred, twirling a strand of blonde hair between her fingers. "Hell of a match tonight. You looked real good out there."

Daisy tensed beside him, her shoulders pulling in tight. Normally, this was where he'd play into it, let Trish get under Daisy's skin just enough to push her buttons.

But not tonight.

Not when Daisy was barely holding it together as it was.

So instead, without missing a beat, he tightened his arm around Daisy's waist and shot Trish an unimpressed look.

"Not interested." His voice was sharp, cutting, leaving no room for argument.

Trish blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Oh, come on. You're really gonna pretend like you don't love a little attention?"

Punk scoffed. "Not from you."

Trish's lips parted slightly, her ego visibly bruised, but Punk didn't give a damn. Without another word, he turned away, steering Daisy toward their car.

As they walked, he felt her glance up at him, still quiet but a little less tense.

When they reached the rental, she finally spoke, her voice small. "You didn't even entertain her."

Punk pulled open the passenger door for her. "Not in the mood."

Daisy climbed in, watching him carefully as he shut the door and walked around to the driver's side. When he slid in beside her, she studied him for a long moment before murmuring, "Thanks."

Punk kept his eyes forward as he started the car, gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Anytime."

The road stretched long ahead of them, the hum of the highway filling the quiet space between them. Punk glanced at Daisy every so often, noticing how quiet she was, her arms crossed as she stared out the window. He hated seeing her like this.

So he did what he always did when things got too heavy—he made a joke.

"You know, I think your mom likes me," he said, keeping his tone light. "She didn't yell. Didn't throw anything. That's a win, right?"

Daisy let out a small breath, but it wasn't quite a laugh. He tried again.

"Hell, I even played the perfect boyfriend all night. You should start paying me. I don't come cheap, you know."

That got a reaction. Daisy huffed a short laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah? How much do you charge for pretending to tolerate me?"

Punk smirked, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "For you? Special discount. I'll only charge in coffee and maybe a few back rubs."

Daisy snorted. "Back rubs?."

"Excuse me, they help a lot with muscle tension ," he corrected, tossing her a glance. "And for that, I'm upping the price. Coffee, back rubs, and..." He tapped his chin as if in deep thought. "A weekly reminder that I'm your favorite person in the world."

Daisy rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the smile that crept onto her face. She turned toward him fully now, studying his profile as he kept his focus on the road.

And then, without really thinking, she said it.

"You have a really pretty smile."

Punk nearly missed his next breath. "What?"

Daisy rested her cheek against the seat, eyes still on him. "Your smile," she repeated softly. "It's really pretty. It makes my stomach flip a little."

Punk felt his grip on the wheel tighten. His ears burned. His jaw clenched like he was trying to ignore how his own stomach did a little flip at her words.

"...Shut up."

Daisy grinned, eyes glinting with something new. "No, really. I mean it."

Punk exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head, but he didn't argue. Didn't brush it off like he normally would.

He just let her words replay in his head over and over , they tend to do that

As they kept driving to the next city Daisy had finally stopped looking so heartbroken, and Punk was determined to keep it that way.

They had fallen into easy conversation, teasing each other about their match, about how the commentators wouldn't shut up about them, and then somehow, the topic shifted.

"You know," Punk said, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, "you're the first girl I've ever met the parents of."

Daisy turned her head toward him, brows lifting in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal. "I don't do the whole relationship thing, remember?"

Daisy let that sit between them for a second, then smirked. "Yeah, but you were pretending to be my boyfriend."

Punk scoffed, shifting in his seat. "Details."

Daisy let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "I mean, I guess it doesn't count if it was all an act."

Punk kept his eyes on the road, tightening his grip on the wheel slightly. "Yeah," he muttered, a little too quick. "An act."

Daisy watched him carefully, her smirk softening just slightly. It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself. But she let it slide—for now.

By the time they finally got to the hotel, Daisy was exhausted. The weight of the night still lingered, but Punk had done everything he could to keep her distracted, to keep her from sinking too deep into it.

They barely spoke as they got to their room, both too drained to do anything but fall onto the bed. Punk kicked off his boots, lying back against the pillows, arms crossed behind his head. Daisy settled next to him, her body finally feeling the exhaustion settle in.

A beat of silence passed before she turned her head toward him. "Hey."

Punk cracked an eye open. "What?"

"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything tonight."

He scoffed, shifting like he was about to brush it off, but then—he didn't. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, turning his head to look at her.

"Yeah, well... whatever," he muttered, voice lower than usual. "Don't get all emotional about it."

Daisy just smiled sleepily, watching him for a moment longer before her eyes drifted shut. Punk stayed awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, feeling something tighten in his chest that he wasn't ready to acknowledge.

Eventually, he turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at her, before finally letting himself fall asleep too.

MORNING

Daisy woke up to an empty bed.

She blinked a few times, rubbing at her eyes before turning over, only to confirm what she already knew—Punk was gone.

A small pang of disappointment settled in her chest. She shouldn't have been surprised. The past few days had been too much for him, too intimate, too close. He probably needed space, needed to remind himself that they weren't actually together.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she forced herself out of bed and headed for the shower, trying to shake the feeling off. The hot water ran over her as she tilted her head back, letting it soothe her. She needed to get a grip—he wasn't hers to be upset over.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even hear the hotel door open.

Didn't hear the rustle of clothes being tossed aside.

Didn't notice anything at all—until the glass door of the shower slid open and Punk stepped in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Daisy nearly jumped out of her skin. "Jesus Christ, Punk!" she shrieked, clutching at her chest as she spun to face him.

He just smirked, standing under the water like it was his shower she had rudely interrupted. "Mornin'."

She gaped at him. "You—you can't just—" She huffed, trying to regain some composure. "Where the hell did you go?"

Punk ran a hand through his wet hair, completely unfazed. "Nowhere important."

"Punk—"

"Don't worry about it," he cut her off playfully, reaching for the soap. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

Daisy narrowed her eyes. "You're so annoying."

"And yet you keep letting me in your shower," he teased, lathering up without a care in the world.

Daisy had half a mind to shove him out—but instead, she just sighed, rolling her eyes, a tiny smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

As they shower together it's not awkward, it feels almost ... natural , both of them humming quietly and casually washing together

Once they finish and get out punk is standing behind Daisy and he barely lets out "Got a surprise for ya" as he walks past her to get the toothpaste , he was so quiet she wasn't even sure she heard him right

Daisy paused mid-brush stroke, narrowing her eyes at Punk through the mirror. "A surprise?"

Punk leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest, smirking. "Yeah. So hurry up."

She turned to face him fully, skeptical. "But we have the day off. What exactly are we going to be late for?"

His smirk only grew. "You ask too many questions. Just trust me."

Daisy huffed, setting her brush down. "That's not reassuring."

"Good," he quipped, pushing off the frame and stepping closer. "Now get moving, princess. Clock's ticking."

Her eyes scanned his face, searching for any hint of what he was up to, but he gave her nothing. With a sigh, she turned back to the mirror, applying the last touches of her makeup. "Fine," she relented. "But if this is some elaborate scheme to annoy me, I swear to God—"

"Relax," Punk cut in, his voice softer this time as he reached for her wrist, giving it a light squeeze. "You'll like it. Promise."

That threw her off. His tone. The warmth of his touch.

For a second, she forgot what she was even supposed to be doing.

Clearing her throat, she nodded, quickly finishing up. "Alright, alright. Let's go before you have a meltdown."

Punk smirked again but said nothing, leading her out the door and toward whatever surprise he had planned.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-Chapter 59

Daisy stood in the living room, her hands clasped in front of her as she addressed her family. "So... I pulled some strings, and I got you all ringside tickets for the show tonight."

Her little cousins immediately cheered, jumping up and down with excitement. Her uncle nodded approvingly, and her aunt smiled, saying, "That's so sweet of you, Daisy."

Her mom, however, just crossed her arms. "Ringside?" she repeated, like Daisy had offered her a seat in the nosebleeds. "Isn't that a little... close?"

Punk, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, muttered just low enough for Daisy to hear, "Jesus Christ."

Daisy shot him a look before focusing back on her mother. "Yeah, well, I thought it'd be nice. You know, so you could actually see me wrestle up close. See what I do."

Her mom pursed her lips. "I guess I'll be there." She then glanced toward her younger nieces and nephews, sighing dramatically. "For the little ones, of course. They seem so excited."

Daisy felt Punk shift next to her, and she instinctively nudged him before he could say anything smart. Instead, he let out a deep breath and muttered, "Can't wait."

Daisy gave her mom a tight smile. "Great. See you guys there."

As they turned to grab their bags and head out, Punk leaned in and whispered, "You know she's gonna pick apart everything you do in the ring, right?"

Daisy sighed, rubbing her temple. "Yeah. But at least now I have an excuse to beat the shit out of someone in front of her."

Punk smirked. "That's my girl."

Daisy sat on one of the production crates backstage, her knee bouncing as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. She knew she was being ridiculous. It was just another match—she'd done this a thousand times before. But this time, her mom would be watching. Judging. Picking apart every mistake, every misstep, every flaw.

Punk leaned against the wall beside her, arms crossed. "You know, for someone who literally fights people for a living, you sure do get rattled by one woman."

Daisy shot him a glare. "You don't know my mom."

He scoffed. "I've met her once, and that was enough."

She let out a heavy sigh, gripping the edge of the crate. "I just... I want her to see me. Not criticize me. Not make snide comments. Just—just see me."

Punk uncrossed his arms and nudged her knee with his knuckles. "Hey." When she looked at him, he softened—just a little. "You're gonna go out there and do what you do best. And she can either shut the hell up and appreciate it, or she can keep being miserable while the rest of the world loves you."

Daisy exhaled slowly, his words grounding her more than she wanted to admit. "You really think I'm loved?"

Punk smirked "oh trust me , I know you are" ."

Her breath caught for a second, but before she could respond, a familiar voice cut in.

"Daze!"

She turned just in time to see Jeff Hardy approaching, his usual easygoing energy immediately making her feel a little lighter. He wrapped her in a hug, and she melted into it.

"Matt told me your mom's gonna be here tonight," Jeff said as he pulled back. "You holding up okay?"

Daisy sighed. "Barely."

Jeff nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I figured. I actually called her last week."

Daisy's eyes widened. "You what?"

Jeff held up his hands. "Relax! I just wanted to tell her about my sobriety. Thought maybe she'd see how good I'm doing and lay off you a little."

Daisy blinked. "And how did that go?"

Jeff gave her a wry smile. "Well, she said she was happy for me, but then she started talking about Cody, so I hung up."

Punk snorted. "Smartest thing you've ever done."

Daisy groaned, rubbing her temples. "Of course she did."

Jeff patted her shoulder. "Hey, doesn't matter what she thinks. You're killin' it out there, Daze. And you're not alone, alright?"

She gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Jeff."

Punk, however, cleared his throat loudly, eyeing Jeff like he was overstaying his welcome. "Yeah, yeah, it's all very touching, but we've got a match to get ready for."

Jeff smirked, catching Punk's attitude immediately. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you two alone. But, Daisy," he said, squeezing her hand one last time, "you got this."

As Jeff walked off, Daisy turned to Punk with a pointed look. "Was that really necessary?"

Punk shrugged. "What? I let him talk, didn't I?"

Daisy rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "You're impossible."

Punk smirked. "And yet, here you are."

As Daisy and Punk made their way down the ramp, the crowd erupted, their cheers deafening. Daisy fed off the energy, hyping them up even more as she moved toward the ring. She glanced toward ringside, searching for her family.

Her little cousins were on their feet, cheering excitedly, but her mother? Not even smiling. Arms crossed, expression blank, as if she wasn't impressed in the slightest.

Daisy's stomach twisted, but she forced herself to ignore it, turning her focus back to the match. She wasn't going to let her ruin this. Not tonight.

Punk noticed the way Daisy's expression faltered when she spotted her mother's reaction—or lack thereof. He leaned in as they reached the ring, whispering just loud enough for her to hear over the crowd.

"Don't let her get in your head," he murmured. "You know you're a star. Who cares what she thinks?"

Daisy exhaled sharply, nodding, but he could tell it still weighed on her.

As she bent over to step through the ropes, Punk smirked and, without thinking, gave her a playful smack on the ass. The crowd erupted in even louder cheers, and the commentators immediately jumped on it.

"Whoa! Did you see that?" one of them laughed. "The rumors might be true !CM Punk and Daisy might be more than just tag partners after all!"

"I don't know, but that sure didn't look like a simple teammate interaction," the other added.

Daisy's head snapped around, eyes wide as she shot him a glare. Punk just shrugged, completely unapologetic, his smirk widening.

"Focus, sweetheart," he teased. "We've got a match to win."

Daisy's glare deepened, but before she could say anything, Punk took it a step further—bringing his fingers to his lips and dramatically blowing her a kiss.

The crowd lost their minds.

"Oh, come on! Now he's just playing into it!" one commentator exclaimed.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say CM Punk is having way too much fun messing with Daisy tonight," the other chuckled.

Daisy's face burned, half from embarrassment and half from sheer frustration. She turned to fully step into the ring, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But Punk, still smirking, leaned casually against the ropes, enjoying every second of it.

"You're so annoying," she muttered under her breath.

"Yeah?" he said, tilting his head. "Then why are you smiling?"

She immediately schooled her expression, but it was too late—he'd caught it. And worse? So had the cameras.

As the match got underway, the commentators kept the conversation going.

"You know, last week during that tag team challenge, Punk did call Daisy his girl," one of them pointed out.

"Oh, you're right! He slipped up and said, 'Me and my girl got this.' Think that was just in the heat of the moment, or is there more to it?"

Punk, who was standing on the apron waiting for a tag, overheard them loud and clear. Instead of ignoring it, he turned toward the commentary table with a smug grin and shouted, "I meant what I said!"

The crowd erupted.

Daisy, mid-motion in the ring, froze for half a second before whipping her head around to stare at him. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, but Punk just winked at her.

The commentators laughed.

"Well, there you have it! CM Punk doesn't just talk trash—he owns it."

"Daisy doesn't look too sure about that, though," the other commentator noted as Daisy shook her head, turning her focus back to the match.

But no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, her face was burning. And Punk? Punk was having the time of his life messing with her.

As the referee raised their hands in victory, the crowd erupted in cheers. Daisy, adrenaline pumping, turned excitedly toward ringside, looking for her mom's reaction.

But the moment she looked over—her heart dropped.

The seats where her mom and family had been were now empty.

Her chest tightened, excitement instantly fading into heartbreak. She had pulled strings to get them there, hoped that, for once, her mom would show some kind of pride in her. But instead, she had left before the match even ended.

Punk, still smirking from their win, caught the shift in Daisy's expression immediately. The way her shoulders dropped, the light in her eyes dimming as she stared at the vacant seats. His smirk faded.

He stepped closer, placing a hand on her lower back. "Daisy," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear over the crowd.

She blinked a few times, trying to shake it off, trying not to let it ruin the moment. She forced a smile, nodding toward the crowd as if everything was fine. But Punk saw right through her.

He leaned in slightly, voice lower, just for her. "She left, didn't she?"

Daisy swallowed hard, nodding once. "Yeah." Her voice was small, defeated. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised."

Punk clenched his jaw, anger bubbling beneath the surface—not at her, but at her mom. At the way Daisy had lit up before the match, hoping for her approval, only to be let down. Again.

He wanted to say something, to curse her mom out for being such a shitty person, but he knew this wasn't the time.

Instead, he squeezed her waist, grounding her. "Fuck her," he muttered. "Look at them." He nodded toward the roaring crowd, chanting their names. "They love you."

Daisy let out a shaky breath, nodding again, but Punk could tell it still stung.

So he did the only thing he could think of—he grabbed her wrist, yanked her toward him, and threw her arm in the air dramatically, hyping the crowd even more. And then, before she could react, he pulled her into a hug.

A real one. Right there in the middle of the ring.

And then he placed a kiss on her forehead

The crowd went nuts.

Daisy stiffened at first, caught off guard, but then, slowly, she relaxed. She gripped the back of his shirt, squeezing just a little tighter than she meant to.

Punk wasn't one for public displays, but fuck it. If her own mom wasn't going to show up for her, he damn sure was.

As soon as they stepped through the curtain, the deafening cheers of the crowd were replaced by the buzzing energy of the backstage area. Wrestlers, crew members, and producers clapped them on the back, offering congratulations.

"You killed it out there!" someone called.

"That was a hell of a match, Daisy!" another voice added.

She smiled, nodded, muttered, "Thanks," but her voice was tight. Forced.

Punk, walking just a step ahead of her, felt it. Felt the way her energy had shifted the second they were out of sight.

She was holding on by a thread.

He ignored everyone else, his focus locked on her. Her breathing was uneven, her steps shorter, like her body was tensing up. He could see the way she was biting the inside of her cheek, trying not to let anything slip.

She wasn't fine. Not even close.

Punk didn't say anything—didn't call attention to it in front of everyone—but his hand found the small of her back, guiding her through the hallway faster.

"C'mon," he muttered under his breath, just for her. "Let's get to the dressing room."

Daisy swallowed hard, nodding slightly, keeping her eyes forward.

He kept his hand on her as they weaved through the crowd. Every few feet, someone stopped to congratulate her, and she managed to get out a tight-lipped "thank you," but Punk never let her linger too long.

He knew if she stopped for even a second, if she let herself breathe too much—she was going to break.

So he got her to the dressing room door, pushed it open, and as soon as they stepped inside, away from the eyes of everyone else, he shut it behind them.

Daisy stood in the middle of the room, staring at the floor, arms stiff at her sides. Her breaths were shallow, rapid.

Punk didn't say anything at first. He just waited.

And then, just like he knew she would—her shoulders started to shake.

Her hands clenched into fists.

Her chest heaved as she sucked in a sharp breath—trying, fighting—to keep it together.

But she wasn't going to win that fight.

Punk took a step closer, voice soft. "Daisy..."

And that was it.

She let out a choked breath, eyes squeezing shut as the tears finally broke free.

Punk didn't hesitate. He was there in an instant, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in. She crashed into his chest, fists gripping his shirt, her whole body trembling.

She wasn't sobbing—wasn't making a sound—but he could feel how hard she was crying.

Punk wrapped his arms around her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other rubbing slow, firm circles on her back.

"It's okay," he murmured into her hair. "Just let it out."

Daisy shook her head against his chest, like she didn't want to, like she shouldn't.

But she didn't pull away.

And Punk wasn't going anywhere.

Daisy clutched at Punk's shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded, her body shaking with every silent sob. He felt every tremor, every shaky breath, and it made something tighten in his chest in a way he wasn't ready to unpack.

Between ragged breaths, she whispered against his chest, "I—I need to sit down."

Punk didn't hesitate. He guided her toward the small couch in the dressing room, but when she moved to sit beside him, he tugged her gently onto his lap instead.

She didn't fight it.

Didn't even hesitate.

She just curled into him, her legs draping over his, arms still clinging around his torso like she needed to hold on to something.

Punk rested his chin against the top of her head, his hand rubbing slow, steady circles on her back. He wasn't good at this. He didn't do this—comfort, softness, any of it. But right now? She needed him.

And somehow, he hated that she needed him for this.

Hated that it was her own family that made her feel like this.

Between uneven breaths, she muttered, "She just—she didn't even—" She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head against his chest. "She just left, Punk. Didn't even stay to say anything."

He exhaled slowly, biting his tongue before he said something too blunt, too harsh. "She's an idiot."

Daisy let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but not quite. "That's my mom."

He ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing it down. "Yeah, well... she's still an idiot."

Daisy sniffled, burying her face deeper into his chest. "She never wanted this for me. Wrestling, I mean."

Punk hummed. "And yet, here you are. Killing it in front of thousands of people who love you for it."

She swallowed hard, her grip on his shirt tightening. "Why can't she just be happy for me?"

Punk sighed. "Because she doesn't get it. And maybe she never will." He rested his cheek against the top of her head. "But that's her loss, Daisy. Not yours."

She was quiet for a long moment, her tears slowing but her body still pressed close against his.

And then, so quietly he almost missed it, she whispered, "I really wanted her to be proud of me."

Punk closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose.

He could've given her some bullshit line about how she should be proud, how Daisy didn't need her approval—but that wasn't what she needed to hear.

So instead, he hugged her tighter.

And then, voice softer than he thought himself capable of, he told her the only thing that mattered right now.

"I'm proud of you."

Daisy let out a shaky breath, pressing her forehead against his collarbone.

And she didn't say anything.

But the way her fingers curled into his shirt like she needed those words?

That said everything.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-Chapter 58

Punk wasn't rushing. Not tonight.

He had her laid out beneath him, her body still tense from everything her family had put her through. He could feel it—the way her breathing was uneven, the way her hands fisted in the sheets like she was still holding everything in.

He wasn't going to let her.

Punk pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, slow and deliberate, before trailing his lips higher. "Relax," he murmured against her skin. "Just focus on me."

Daisy exhaled shakily, but she didn't argue.

When his mouth finally met her, she let out a muffled gasp, her back arching slightly before she bit her lip hard, desperate to stay quiet.

Punk smirked against her, but he didn't tease. Not tonight. Instead, he took his time, licking into her with slow, deep strokes, his hands keeping her spread open for him.

She was trying so hard to be quiet, her fingers gripping the sheets like a lifeline, her thighs trembling as she fought against the sounds threatening to spill from her lips.

Punk pulled back just enough to murmur, "Don't hold back on me, Daisy."

She shook her head desperately. "They'll hear," she whispered, her voice barely there.

Punk exhaled a quiet laugh before pressing a kiss right against her clit, making her whole body jerk. "Then you better be good at keeping quiet, huh?"

She gave him a desperate look, but he didn't give her time to argue. He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking just enough to make her hand fly up to cover her mouth, a muffled whimper escaping into her palm.

Punk groaned against her, loving how she was already trembling under him, how hard she was trying to hold it in. He didn't stop—he kept going, slow but relentless, pushing her closer and closer until her whole body tensed, her hand barely able to muffle the sounds spilling from her lips as she came apart beneath him.

As she came down, her chest still rising and falling rapidly, Punk pressed one last kiss against her, then moved up to hover over her.

He smirked. "Still thinking about your family?"

Daisy let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. "No."

Punk brushed a hand over her cheek, something soft in his touch before he pulled the covers over both of them. "Good," he muttered, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep, Daisy."

Punk laid next to Daisy, watching as her breathing evened out, her body still trembling slightly from the release he'd just given her. She was exhausted—he could see it in the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, the way she barely moved except for the slow rise and fall of her chest.

He wanted her again. Badly.

But he knew she was sore from previous times Knew she was spent. , and knew today was too much mentally on her And as much as he wanted to take her, to sink into her and let himself go, he wasn't going to push her.

So, he carefully slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake her as he padded into the small bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Leaning against the sink, he let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face before glancing down at himself—hard, aching, throbbing from everything he'd just done to her.

With a quiet groan, he shoved his sweatpants down just enough and wrapped a hand around himself, his mind immediately flashing back to the way she looked beneath him.

How she'd tried so hard to stay quiet. How her thighs had trembled as he pushed her over the edge. How wrecked she'd sounded when she finally let go.

Punk bit his lip, his hand moving steadily, his breath coming quicker as he imagined her again—imagined her waking up, pulling him back to bed, wrapping those thighs around him and letting him take what he needed.

The thought alone had him right on the edge.

With a quiet grunt, he came, his free hand gripping the sink as he let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to gather himself.

After cleaning up, he glanced at himself in the mirror, shaking his head slightly before smirking.

Fucking pathetic, he thought.

He'd never done this before—not left a woman satisfied and taken care of while he handled himself. But Daisy was different. She always had been.

With one last deep breath, Punk turned off the light and slipped back into bed, pulling her into his arms.

Even in her sleep, she curled into him, her body instinctively seeking his warmth.

Yeah. He was fucked.

MORNING

Daisy stirred awake, the early morning light barely creeping through the curtains of the spare bedroom. She blinked, her body still heavy with exhaustion, but the dull ache between her thighs reminded her of last night—of Punk, of his hands, his mouth, the way he'd taken care of her after the disaster of dinner.

She sighed, stretching slightly before realizing she really needed to pee. Carefully, she tried to slip out of bed, moving slowly so she wouldn't wake him.

But as soon as she started to pull away, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her right back into the warmth of his chest.

"Mm-mm. No," Punk mumbled sleepily, his voice rough and low.

"Punk," she whispered, stifling a small laugh. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Don't care," he grumbled, burying his face against her shoulder. "Too early."

She huffed, trying again to wiggle free, but he just tightened his hold, one of his legs tangling with hers.

"Punk," she whined, though there was no real fight in her voice.

"Five more minutes," he murmured, pressing a lazy, half-conscious kiss to the back of her neck.

Daisy froze at the gesture, her heart skipping a beat. He wasn't even fully awake, wasn't thinking—he was just holding her like it was second nature, like they did this all the time.

She swallowed, unsure of what to do with that realization.

But then he let out a content sigh, his breathing evening out again, and Daisy sighed too, giving in.

She could hold it.

For five more minutes.

Daisy barely made it down the stairs before her mother started in on her again.

"So, you're finally up," her mom commented as she set a plate of eggs on the table. "Figured you'd be exhausted after sneaking around last night."

Daisy's stomach dropped. "What?"

Her mother gave her a pointed look. "Walls are thin in this house, sweetheart. You think I don't know what was going on in that room?"

Punk, who had been pouring himself a cup of coffee, nearly choked. He coughed into his fist, quickly recovering, but Daisy could already feel her face burning.

"Jesus, Mom," she muttered, rubbing her temples.

Her aunt, sitting at the far end of the table, let out a little snort. "Well, at least we know this one's not as useless as Cody was."

Daisy clenched her jaw. "Can we not?"

"Oh, come on," her mom continued, completely ignoring her. "I mean, I get it. It's been a while since you had a real man around, hasn't it?"

Punk's entire demeanor shifted at that, his grip tightening around the coffee mug. Daisy could feel the tension radiating off of him, but before he could say anything, she quickly spoke up.

"Mom, seriously, enough."

Some of her other family members tried to change the subject of her mothers uncomfortable words as they all sat down to eat breakfast

As the conversation carried on, her uncle suddenly leaned forward, squinting between them. "So, you two are really together?"

Punk barely looked up from his coffee. "That's what we said, isn't it?"

"Well, forgive me if I don't believe everything that comes out of a pro wrestler's mouth," her uncle chuckled. "You two are tag partners. How do we know this isn't just for show?"

Daisy tensed. "Why would we fake a relationship?"

Her cousin smirked. "I don't know, Daze. Maybe for the business. For a storyline."

Daisy opened her mouth to argue, but her aunt cut in, tilting her head at Punk. "If you really like her, name some things you love about her."

Punk, for the first time all morning, actually looked caught off guard. He blinked, sitting up straighter. "What?"

"You heard me," her aunt said, crossing her arms. "If you're really with her, tell us why."

The word love , that seemed all too serious, punk didn't like that, as he tried not to freak out and run right out the door he knew one thing

He wasn't going to embarrass Daisy , he wasn't going to let her family know this was a "fake" relationship

Daisy held her breath, glancing at him. He was clearly annoyed by the sudden interrogation, but after a beat, he sighed and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"Fine," he muttered, then looked at Daisy, his expression unreadable. "She's stubborn as hell. Never backs down, even when she probably should."

Daisy blinked.

"She works harder than anyone in that locker room, doesn't take shortcuts, and never expects things to just be handed to her." He twirled his fork between his fingers, glancing at her mom. "You might think she's a mess in the morning, but I've never seen someone make rolling out of bed look that good."

Daisy felt her face heat, heart pounding in her ears.

"She doesn't take shit from anyone, including me, and she always—" He exhaled, shaking his head with something like fond exasperation. "She always tries to see the good in people, even when they don't deserve it."

The table was dead silent.

Punk cleared his throat, sitting back. "That enough, or you need a PowerPoint?"

Daisy could barely process what just happened before her cousin grinned at her. "Alright, your turn. What do you love about him?"

She suddenly wanted to crawl under the table. She swallowed, hesitating before shifting in her seat. "Uh... well, he's—" She glanced at Punk, who was now watching her expectantly, and she looked away quickly. "He's... smart. Like, annoyingly smart. He always thinks he knows everything, but the worst part is, he usually does."

Punk smirked.

"He's loyal. If he gives a shit about you, he'll go to war for you." She hesitated, then admitted, "And... he's been there for me in ways no one else ever has."

The teasing energy at the table faded, replaced by something more serious.

Punk didn't say anything. He just stared at her, like he wasn't expecting that answer.

Her aunt pursed her lips. "Well, I have to say, I didn't expect that. You two are..." She waved her hand. "Interesting together."

Daisy exhaled. "Yeah. We know."

Her cousin leaned in. "So, why are you guys really together?"

Daisy froze.

Punk shifted, voice calm but firm. "Because we want to be."

And for the first time, Daisy let herself wonder if maybe, just maybe, that was actually true.

As the conversation went on Punk clenched his jaw so tight it was a miracle he hadn't cracked a tooth. Daisy's mom just would not shut up about Cody. It was Cody this, Cody that, Cody was so wonderful.

Meanwhile, Daisy was practically vibrating next to him, whispering urgently under her breath, "Don't say anything, please don't say anything."

And he was trying. Really, he was. But when her mom scoffed and said, "Has this boy even ever bought you flowers? Because Cody did."—that was almost his breaking point.

Daisy, without missing a beat, straightened up and said, "Yes. Yeah. He buys me my favorite flowers all the time."

Punk's head snapped toward her so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

What?

Her mom raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? And what are your favorite flowers, Daisy?"

Daisy opened her mouth, then shut it. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap before she blurted, "Lilies."

Punk didn't know shit about flowers, but he was willing to bet that wasn't true.

Her mom hummed, clearly not convinced. "Well. I'd love to see that sometime. A man who brings his girl flowers just because—that's love."

Punk bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from blurting out something that would start a war at this breakfast table. But when he glanced at Daisy, saw how tense her shoulders were, how she refused to look at her mom, he exhaled through his nose and forced himself to stay quiet.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, casually slinging his arm around the back of Daisy's. "Yeah," he said smoothly. "I'll bring some next time we visit."

Daisy's head snapped toward him.

Her mom gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I'll be looking forward to it."

As the conversation shifted, Daisy finally looked at him, her expression somewhere between grateful and are you seriously playing along with this?

Punk just smirked, leaning in to whisper, "Lilies, huh?"

Daisy groaned under her breath. "Shut up."

Yeah. He was definitely getting her some damn lilies.

[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-chapter 57

As soon as the front door swung open, Daisy barely had time to plaster on a polite smile before her mother's voice rang out, dripping with that familiar condescending tone.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to come home," her mother said, her sharp eyes scanning Daisy up and down. "And you brought ... him."

Daisy forced a tight-lipped smile. "Hi, Mom."

Her mother barely acknowledged the greeting before shifting her focus to Punk, her eyes narrowing as she took him in. "So, this is the boyfriend that people have been talking about you being with?"

Punk, ever the professional at masking his emotions, simply smirked, wrapping an arm around Daisy's waist in an easy, possessive way that felt way too natural. "That'd be me."

Her mother arched a perfectly manicured brow. "Hmph. I expected someone... different."

Daisy bristled. "Different how?"

Her mother ignored the question entirely and stepped back. "Well, don't just stand there. Come inside before the neighbors start talking."

Punk leaned in slightly, just enough for only Daisy to hear, and murmured, "Charming woman."

Daisy shot him a warning look, and he held his hands up in mock surrender as they stepped inside.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, the interrogation began. Her mother, never one to waste time, turned to Punk with a scrutinizing gaze.

"So, what exactly do you do?"

Punk barely blinked. "I'm a wrestler."

Her mother sniffed, unimpressed. "Yes, I know that much. But do you have any real plans? Something stable?"

Daisy clenched her jaw. "Mom."

Punk, however, just smirked. "I'd say being one of the best wrestlers in the world is pretty stable."

Her mother let out a forced, insincere laugh. "Oh, I'm sure. But that's not exactly a long-term career, is it?"

Punk shrugged, completely unfazed. "Guess that depends on how long you plan to stay on top." He tightened his grip around Daisy's waist and added, "And I don't plan on going anywhere."

Daisy felt her stomach flip. She knew he was just saying it for show—for the sake of playing boyfriend for the night—but damn if it didn't sound good.

Her mother didn't seem convinced, but before she could fire off another condescending remark, the rest of the family started filtering in, and the night of forced smiles and gritted teeth truly began.

Dinner was exactly as miserable as Daisy expected.

The dining room was uncomfortably pristine, the kind of clean that felt staged, like her mother had spent all day making sure every little thing was perfect just to make Daisy feel small in comparison. The tension was thick, and the forced conversation wasn't helping.

"So, Phil," her mother started, cutting into her steak with calculated precision. "How serious are you about my daughter?"

Punk barely reacted, simply pausing mid-chew before swallowing his bite and smirking. "Pretty serious."

Daisy could feel him watching her, but she didn't dare look up. She just focused on her plate, pretending she wasn't waiting for her mother's next move.

Her mother hummed. "That's nice. And what exactly does serious mean to you?"

Punk leaned back in his chair, effortlessly cocky. "Means I put up with this without running for the door."

Daisy's grip on her fork tightened, and she had to bite back a smile. Her mother, however, was less amused.

"Well, I just hope my daughter knows what she's getting herself into," her mother said, voice dripping with judgment. "I mean, after everything with Cody—"

Daisy stiffened.

Punk did too.

Her mother pretended not to notice, taking a delicate sip of wine. "It was such a shame, you know. Cody was so sweet, and he really cared about you. We all thought he was the one—"

Punk let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Yeah? That the same 'one' who cheated on her?"

Daisy's head snapped up, eyes widening. Punk's expression was blank, but his fingers were gripping his knife a little too tightly.

Her mother scoffed. "That was complicated—"

"No," Daisy finally cut in, her voice firm. "It wasn't."

The table went silent.

Her mother's gaze hardened. "I just don't want you to make the same mistakes."

Daisy exhaled sharply, pushing her plate away. "Trust me. I won't."

Punk draped an arm over the back of her chair, casual but possessive. "Yeah," he added, voice low and edged with something dangerous. "She won't."

Her mother opened her mouth to respond, but Daisy wasn't interested in whatever she had to say next.

She was done.

And if the way Punk's fingers brushed against her back was any indication, so was he.

The conversation didn't get any better after that.

Her mom kept going, nitpicking every little thing about Daisy's life—her career, her choices, even the way she was sitting. The rest of her family wasn't much better, either chiming in with backhanded comments or staying silent as her mother took jabs at her.

Punk could feel Daisy tensing beside him, her nails digging into her napkin as she forced herself to stay calm. He hated it. Hated seeing her sit there and take it like she was used to it. Like she thought she deserved it.

His hand found her thigh under the table, squeezing gently. It was meant to be reassuring, grounding. He felt her stiffen at first before slowly relaxing under his touch. She didn't look at him, but the way her fingers lightly brushed over his hand told him she appreciated it.

He bit his tongue when her mother made another passive-aggressive comment about how wrestling isn't a real career.

He clenched his jaw when her aunt asked if she'd ever consider settling down with someone normal.

And when her uncle muttered that Cody was always polite at the dinner table, Punk nearly snapped.

Instead, he inhaled deeply, forcing himself to be strategic. If Daisy wanted to make it through this dinner without a fight, then fine. He'd play along. But he'd do it his way.

"Daisy," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the conversation. "Want some dessert?"

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the abrupt change. "Uh—what?"

"Dessert," he repeated, already pushing his chair back. "I'll go get you some."

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "She can get her own."

Punk ignored her completely, standing up and leaning down to press a firm, lingering kiss to Daisy's lips. Not just a peck—a statement.

Daisy barely had time to react before he pulled back, smirking at her dazed expression. "Be right back, sweetheart."

Then he walked off, leaving the entire table stunned.

Her mother looked livid. Daisy, on the other hand, was fighting back a smile as she touched her lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss.

For the first time that night, she felt like she could actually breathe.

Punk returns shortly with a nice strawberry shortcake on a plate , with extra whip just how he knew Daisy would like it

Just as she was about to take a bite , her mothers voice agin took control of the room

"You guys don't even need a hotel tonight ! , you two would be fine here , right sweetie?" She question with false sweetness in her voice , testing daisy's limits

Daisy immediately wanted to say no. She wanted to blurt it out, make an excuse, anything to get them out of there. But before she could, her mother was already smiling sweetly—too sweetly—waiting for her response.

"That way, you don't have to waste money on a hotel," her mom added, feigning innocence. "It's just one night."

Daisy swallowed hard, looking at Punk, hoping he'd come up with an excuse, but he just shrugged. "Your call, babe."

Babe. He was still playing the doting boyfriend role, and she could kill him for it.

Daisy hesitated, knowing if she said no, her mom would make some kind of comment about how rude she was, or worse, about how she and Punk must need their privacy.

She sighed. "Fine. Just one night."

Her mom beamed. "Perfect! I'll go set up the guest room."

As soon as she left the room, Daisy turned to Punk, her voice low and sharp. "You were supposed to back me up."

He smirked. "Nah, this is more fun."

She groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Nah," Punk said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close. "You'll survive. And if not—" He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "At least we'll have some fun in that guest room."

Daisy elbowed him hard in the ribs, making him chuckle.

One night. They just had to survive one night.

As soon as they shut the door behind them, Daisy let out a deep breath and flopped onto the bed. "I can't believe we survived that," she muttered, rubbing her temples.

Punk leaned against the door, arms crossed, watching her with that amused glint in his eyes. "Wasn't so bad," he said. "Your mom's a piece of work, though."

Daisy groaned. "Tell me about it." She sat up and looked at him, softer now. "But... thank you. For not being an asshole tonight. For playing along." She hesitated before adding, "You were... really good at the boyfriend act."

Punk smirked as he kicked off his boots. "Yeah? Almost like it wasn't an act."

Daisy's breath hitched, but before she could say anything, he shrugged.

"Don't let it go to your head, though," he added. "I'm just that good at everything."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Right. Of course."

Punk moved to sit beside her, their shoulders brushing. "Seriously, though," he said, glancing at her. "You okay?"

She swallowed, nodding. "Yeah. Just exhausted."

He didn't say anything, just reached over and squeezed her thigh gently. It was comforting, grounding.

Daisy exhaled and let herself lean against him, just for a moment. "One more night," she murmured. "Then we're out of here."

Punk hummed in agreement. "One more night."

Punk watched as Daisy's jaw tensed, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. She was holding it all in, refusing to break, but he could see it—the way her eyes were glassy, how she was swallowing too hard, forcing herself to stay composed.

"You don't have to do that," he said quietly. "If you need to cry, just do it. I'll be here."

Daisy shook her head immediately. "No," she said firmly. "I'm not giving them that. I refuse."

Punk sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to be strong all the time, that letting it out didn't mean they won. But he knew her. Knew how much pride she had, how much she hated feeling weak.

"Alright," he finally said. "Then tell me what you need."

She hesitated for a second before turning to look at him. "Take my mind off of them," she whispered. "Off tonight. Please."

His eyes darkened slightly as he studied her, understanding exactly what she was asking. He could see the way she was shifting, trying to distract herself, desperate for something to make her forget.

Punk exhaled, then tilted his head. "You sure?"

Daisy nodded, a silent plea in her expression.

He reached for her then, his fingers curling around her jaw as he pulled her in, his lips meeting hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn't rushed or aggressive—it was deep, grounding, something for her to focus on besides the pain her family had caused.

He felt her exhale against him, her body relaxing just slightly as she let herself get lost in him. And if he held her just a little closer, touched her just a little softer than usual, he wouldn't acknowledge it.

For tonight, he'd just give her what she needed.