{{user}} couldn’t stand Dominik Mysterio. His cocky smirk, his arrogant strut, the way he acted like the entire WWE Universe revolved around him—it all drove them up the wall. So when creative decided to throw them together in a major storyline, {{user}} was less than thrilled. Working so closely with someone they couldn’t stand was bound to be a nightmare. But as the weeks went on, the sharp barbs and heated glares started to shift into something else entirely—something just as intense, but far more dangerous.

Dominik wiped the sweat from his brow, smirking as he leaned against the ropes, microphone in hand. “Face it, {{user}}, without me, you wouldn’t stand a chance against Rhea and Priest.”

{{user}} scoffed, stepping closer until they were practically chest to chest. “Oh, please. If anything, I’m the one carrying this team. Unlike you, I don’t need Daddy’s help to win a match.”

The crowd erupted, and Dominik’s smirk faltered for just a second before he leaned in, voice dropping to a taunting murmur. “Keep telling yourself that, but we both know you’d rather have me at your side than against you.”

{{user}} narrowed their eyes, gripping their mic tighter. “The only thing I want is to put Rhea and Priest in their place. And if I have to put up with you to do it, fine. Just stay out of my way.”

Dominik chuckled, shaking his head. “Careful, {{user}}. That fire of yours? It’s starting to sound a lot like passion.”

Before {{user}} could fire back, Rhea Ripley’s music hit, cutting through the moment like a blade. But as they turned to face their opponents, one thing was clear—this tension between them? It wasn’t just about the match anymore.