~*~Big Girl Dreams~*~
O’Connell Home
The sound of an electric drill whirred through the baby monitor long before it should have.
Bella stood in the doorway of her daughter’s room, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a small Allen wrench, "You know, someone could’ve waited for me to finish reading the instructions before starting.”
Mal glanced up from where he was crouched on the floor, half of the new toddler bed assembled, a smug grin tugging at his lips, "Instructions are just suggestions, love. Between libraries, your crazy Ninja Warrior set up, out in the barn. I've built whole sets backstage faster than this.”
Bella arched her brow, "And how many of those fell apart halfway through the show?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again with a sheepish shrug, "Ok so I didn’t work alone on those but the point still stands.”
The room around them was in that perfect kind of chaos that came from trying to grow up too fast, paint swatches taped on the wall, a new “big girl” comforter waiting to be unwrapped, and Máire’s stuffed animals piled like a mountain in the corner. Luka had claimed the pile as her throne for now, curled up on top of a headless unicorn plush, her one brown and one blue eyes lazily tracking her humans.
Bella knelt beside her, running a hand through the husky’s thick fur, "You’d better get used to this, Luka. She’s not gonna stay in one place anymore.”
As if on cue, a loud thud echoed down the hall, followed by the unmistakable patter of bare feet.
Mal groaned, "And that would be the escape artist herself. She must of decided to wake up from her nap.”
Bella turned just in time to see Máire peek around the corner, her dirty blonde curls wild, clutching her favorite stuffed dinosaur that was given to her by her Auntie Si and Uncle Lach, by the neck. Her wide eyes lit up when she saw what her parents were doing.
“Bed!” she squealed, barreling into the room, "My bed?”
“Yes my pretty girl, that’s your new bed,” Bella confirmed, scooping her up, "Since someone learned how to climb out of her crib in the middle of the night.”
Máire giggled, tucking her face against Bella’s shoulder, "I big girl now.”
Mal set the drill aside and grinned, "That you are, peanut. Big enough for your own bed, big enough to give your old man a heart attack every time you sneak down the hall.”
“She doesn’t sneak,” Bella said dryly, "She stomps like a baby elephant.”
“Elephaaaant!” Máire repeated gleefully as she squirmed out of her momma’s arms and reenacted the stomps. Luka barked once, tail thumping, as if joining in on the chaos.
For a moment, the room was filled with laughter and movement, Bella helping Mal line up the last slats, Máire “supervising” from her new mattress, Luka refusing to move from her plush pile.
Once the bed was done, Bella stood back, brushing a smear of sawdust off her jeans. The sight of it, small but sturdy, with soft pink sheets and a crescent moon nightlight on the wall, made her chest tighten.
She remembered when the crib first arrived. Mal had assembled it while she sat, eight months pregnant, arguing that the mattress was too firm. Now, here they were again, same couple, same laughter, same stubborn arguments, just with a toddler who could open doors and climb out of cribs like it was an Olympic sport. Thankfully they managed to install the gates at the bottom and top of the steps after the first time she snuck down a couple of weeks ago. That was enough of a heart attack to last them both a lifetime.
Mal slipped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple, "Hey,” he murmured, voice softer now, "She’s growing up, huh?”
Bella nodded, eyes lingering on their daughter as Máire arranged her stuffed animals on the bed in meticulous chaos, "Too fast,” she whispered, "Feels like I blinked and suddenly we’re here.”
Mal chuckled quietly, "That’s parenthood for you. Blink, and she’s already running the place.”
Bella exhaled a laugh, but her eyes stayed warm, a quiet ache settling in behind them.
Máire climbed up onto her bed, proudly bouncing once before flopping backward, hair fanned across the pillow, "I sleep here!” she announced.
Bella smiled through the lump in her throat, "Yeah, baby. You sleep there.”
Luka hopped off the pile of toys and padded over, circling once before curling up at the foot of the bed, her chin resting on her paws.
“See?” Mal said softly, "She’s already got security covered.”
Bella smirked, "That dog’s gonna hog the covers before bedtime even starts.”
But as she watched her little girl stroke Luka’s fur, eyelids already drooping with contentment, Bella knew this was the kind of night she’d remember. The kind that didn’t need bright lights or roaring crowds, just sawdust on the floor, laughter echoing down the hall, and the tiny heartbeat of a new chapter starting in their home.
It was supposed to be a simple night.
Dinner, bath, bedtime.
Three steps. Easy.
At least, that’s what Bella told herself....and maybe the universe heard her because it immediately decided to make a liar out of her.
“Máire, no, not the dog’s water bowl again!”
The toddler turned with that trademark grin, the one that made her look exactly like her father, as her chubby hand hovered over Luka’s dish, "Luka thirsty!”
Bella groaned, scooping her up before she could dump it, "Luka’s always thirsty, baby, but that doesn’t mean we take a bath in her water.”
From the hallway, Mal’s laugh echoed, low and amused, "To be fair, she did try to give Luka a drink.”
Bella shot him a look over Máire’s curls, "You’re not helping.”
He held up his hands in surrender, "Just saying...she’s resourceful.”
“She’s trouble,” Bella muttered, setting Máire down and guiding her toward the freshly assembled toddler bed, "Come on, big girl. Bedtime.”
“Big girl bed!” Máire squealed, climbing up with a little hop. Luka immediately followed, leaping onto the mattress with a thud that made the whole bed bounce.
Bella pinched the bridge of her nose, "And now it’s a party.”
Mal chuckled from the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms folded, "She’s gotta break it in.”
“Not if she breaks herself first,” Bella shot back, moving to shoo Luka down, "Off, girl. Bed’s for babies, not fluffy chaos gremlin machines.” Luka gave her a dramatic sigh before hopping off and curling up on the rug instead, though not without giving Bella one last wounded look over her shoulder.
When Máire was finally settled, surrounded by her plush army of animals, a sippy cup of water within reach, and her nightlight glowing soft amber, Bella sat at the edge of the bed. She brushed her daughter’s hair back, watching those heavy lids blink slower and slower.
“Mommy?” came the small, sleepy voice.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“You stay?”
Bella smiled, "For a bit.”
Mal came in quietly then, crouching beside the bed, "You get some sleep, peanut. Luka’s right outside if you need her.”
“’Kay,” Máire mumbled, already half-dreaming.
Bella and Mal waited there for a long moment, just listening, the hum of the nightlight, Luka’s quiet breathing, the rhythmic suck of a toddler thumb.
When they finally tiptoed out, closing the door almost all the way, Bella leaned back against it and exhaled, "That went better than I thought.”
Mal grinned, "You say that now.”
It took precisely thirty-eight minutes.
Thirty-eight minutes before the pitter-patter of bare feet echoed down the hall, followed by the tiny creak of their bedroom door.
Bella lifted her head from the pillow, blinking in the dim light, "...Mal?”
“Not me,” he murmured sleepily, "We’ve been infiltrated.”
Sure enough, a shadowy figure stood in the doorway clutching a blanket and a stuffed unicorn.
“Mommy,” came the small voice, "Luka snore too loud.”
Mal snorted into his pillow. Bella bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Come here, baby,” she said softly, lifting the blanket. Máire scrambled up between them, snuggling into her mother’s chest with a content sigh. Luka padded in seconds later, tail wagging, and flopped down at the foot of the bed as if reclaiming her post.
Mal rolled onto his side, one arm draped over both of them, "Told you she’d break it in,” he whispered.
Bella smirked against his shoulder, "Yeah, well, maybe she just needed a trial run.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, voice low and warm, "You did good, Bells. You both did.”
Bella’s eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion tugging at the edges of her thoughts, "Yeah...she’s growing too fast, Mal.”
He nodded against her hair, "That’s how you know you’re doing it right.”
In the silence that followed, Bella could feel her daughter’s tiny hand clutching her shirt, the gentle brush of Luka’s fur against her feet, and Mal’s steady heartbeat under her palm.
This, this was what she fought for every time she stepped into that ring. The bruises, the pain, the chaos, they all led back to moments like this.
Her family. Her world.
The Hardcore Queen of SCW and the softest heart in the room.
~*~Iron and Fire~*~
O’Connell Barn Gym - Late Afternoon
Rain whispered against the roof of the barn, soft but steady, the kind of gray drizzle that made the world outside feel small and quiet. Inside, though, there was nothing quiet about the rhythm of Bella Madison’s training.
Thud.
Thud-thud.
Each hit landed heavier than the last. The heavy bag swayed with each impact, a steady, violent metronome to the thoughts crashing through her mind.
Her hair clung to her face, sweat tracing lines down her neck. The skin across her knuckles burned beneath her wraps, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not yet.
It wasn’t just a workout, it was a war being fought one punch at a time.
Because in less than a week, she’d be standing across the ring from Victoria Lyons, the so-called Queen of SCW, the woman who had dominated the Bombshells Roulette division for over a year.
Victoria wasn’t a stepping stone. She was an Everest.
And if Bella wanted that shot at Frankie Holliday, that one shot at the SCW Bombshell World Championship, she’d have to climb her and then keep on climbing.
“Push harder,” she muttered under her breath, the words rough between clenched teeth, "Come on, Madison. Don’t you dare slow down now.”
Her body screamed for a break. Her mind told her to ignore it.
When the barn door creaked open, Bella didn’t even look up, "I’m not done.”
“I can see that,” came the voice, calm, measured, and unmistakably her mother’s. Laura Phoenix stood framed in the doorway, rain jacket still half-zipped, a thermos in her hand. She looked around the barn, taking in the scene: the sweat, the bags, the faint tremor in Bella’s arms from fatigue.
Then she sighed, "Jesus, Bells. Are you trying to train yourself into the hospital?”
Bella grabbed the swinging bag, breathing hard as she wiped sweat from her brow, "No. Just trying to make sure I don’t walk into the tournament unprepared. You should recognize it, I learned it from you and dad.”
“Unprepared?” Laura raised a brow, stepping inside, "You’ve been in here three hours. I should know, I tried to catch you before you started training and Mal told me you were already out here. The only thing you’re unprepared for is a nap.”
Bella didn’t smile. She turned back to the bag, hitting it again, just once, hard enough to make the chains rattle, "Victoria Lyons isn’t some rookie, Mom. She’s a monster, a monster that is attempting redemption but a monster. You know it. Everyone knows it. She’s been running over the Bombshells roster for a year, and nobody had been able to stop her until just recently. You really think I can just half-ass my way into that match?”
Laura watched her for a moment, expression unreadable. Then she set the thermos down on the bench, "No. But there’s a difference between being ready and burning yourself out.”
Bella rolled her shoulders, jaw tight, "You sound like Mal.”
“I sound like your mother,” Laura corrected, "Who’s been in this business long enough to know what happens when you let obsession drive the car.”
That made Bella pause....just long enough for Laura to step closer.
“I get it, Bells. I really do. You’ve got the fire back. You want to win this whole damn tournament and finally get the match you’ve been chasing. But you don’t have to kill yourself to prove you’re good enough.”
Bella turned then, eyes flashing, "Don’t I? Because every fucking time I’ve been this close, something happens. I get in my own way, or somebody else does. And you know what everyone whispers when I lose, Mom? That I’m just your kid. Or Mal’s wife. That I’m always almost there, but never the one who finishes the job.”
Laura’s expression softened, but her voice stayed steady, "You think I haven’t heard worse? You think I didn’t spend years being somebody’s daughter, somebody’s tag partner, somebody’s afterthought? You fight long enough, Bella, and you learn something....people will always talk. Some of them will never ever shut the fuck up. But what matters is what’s left when the lights go down and the crowd goes home.”
Bella exhaled, her breath shaky, "And what if what’s left isn’t enough?”
Laura stepped in, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Then you go back to work...you work smart, not desperate. You’ve already proven you can take a hit and keep fighting. You don’t need to prove it to anyone again.”
Bella looked down at her taped hands, "Victoria’s not just anyone.”
“I know,” Laura said quietly, "That’s why you fight her with your head as much as your heart. She’s not unbeatable, Bella. Nobody is. But you can’t beat her if you go into that match running on fumes.”
Bella swallowed, throat tight, "I don’t know how to stop.”
“I know,” Laura said softly, "That’s what scares me.”
The silence that followed was heavy, only the rain tapping against the roof and the low creak of the bag’s chain filling the space.
Then, almost as if on cue, Luka barked outside the barn, a sharp, cheerful sound that cut through the tension. Bella looked toward the open door, and for a second, she smiled.
“She’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long,” Bella said quietly.
Laura smirked, "Smart dog. Knows when to rest.”
Bella’s smile lingered, small but real, "Yeah....maybe I’ll try that. After another round.”
Laura gave her a look, one of those mom looks that said everything without a word, "Jesus you are worse than Nick at times. Okay, one more. Then you come inside, clean up, and eat something before you pass out. Deal?”
Bella nodded reluctantly, "Deal.”
As Laura turned to leave, she paused in the doorway, "And, Bella?”
“Yeah?”
Her mother smiled, proud, fierce, and maybe just a little misty-eyed.
“Victoria Lyons doesn’t know what she’s walking into and if she thinks she does, she’s a fool. You’re not the same woman she fought before. You’re stronger now, not because of the grind, but because you’ve got something she doesn’t.”
Bella tilted her head, "What’s that?”
Laura’s smirk turned knowing, "A reason.”
The words hung there long after she was gone.
Bella turned back to the bag, her reflection catching in the mirror opposite.
Her breath steadied. Her stance set.
And as she threw another punch, sharp, explosive, echoing through the barn, she whispered to herself,
“Let’s make her remember who I am.”
~*~Hardcore Queen~*~
Later that night
The rain hadn’t stopped. It came down in steady sheets, the sound echoing softly against the barn’s tin roof. The heavy bag still swayed from earlier, but now the space was dim, just the soft glow of a single work light overhead, the camera set up in front of it.
Bella Madison stood in front of that lens, hoodie zipped halfway, hair still damp from the shower, tape still clinging to her wrists like battle scars she hadn’t earned the right to remove yet.
She stared into the camera for a long moment before speaking, letting the silence stretch, letting the weight of her presence fill the space. Then, finally, she smirked.
“You ever notice how, every time a tournament like this rolls around, it brings out the best and the worst in fucking everyone?”
Her voice was calm, almost conversational, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable.
“People talk about destiny, about legacy, about what it means to be a champion. And then there’s me. I don’t talk about destiny. I don’t talk about legacy. I will talk about survival. Because that’s all I’ve ever done since the day I set foot in SCW...survived.”
She took a step forward, the light catching the fire in her eyes.
“I’ve been knocked down so many times. I’ve been bloody. I’ve been told I wasn’t enough. And every single time, I’ve gotten back up. Because that’s what I do. Because that’s who I am. The Hardcore Queen of SCW. The woman who’s walked through glass, through blood, through doubt and came out the other side still swinging.”
A small, bitter laugh escaped her lips.
“And now here we are. Semi-finals. Victoria Lyons.”
The smirk faded, replaced by something sharper, colder.
“Victoria, I’ll give you this, you’re a freakin’ machine. You ran the Bombshell Roulette Division for over a year. You made people plead for mercy, bleed, you broke spirits, and you didn’t apologize for any of it. You carried that championship like it was forged out of your own spine, and nobody...absolutely nobody... could take it from you until recently. You did more for that damn division than any of us could.”
She paused, letting the acknowledgment sink in before her tone shifted, darker now.
“But I’m not coming into this to admire your record. I’m going to make it extremely interesting. Because while you have finally started to climb that proverbial ladder....for me, this isn’t just another match. This is the line in the sand. The moment where I stop being ‘almost there’ and start being the one nobody can overlook anymore.”
She reached up, tugging at the tape around her wrists, the sound of it tearing sharp in the quiet.
“You have called yourself a Queen for over a year. In fact, you took being named Queen for a Day and you attempted to rule over the entire place like you were the fucking owner. I remember exactly what you attempted to do to Miles and Carter and you better believe I’m still fucking bitter about that. You ruled through pain, intimidation, dominance and now you’re looking across the bracket at someone who’s not afraid of any of that. I’ve fought you before, Victoria. I remember what it felt like to get hit by you, to lose to you. I remember every bruise you left, every scar that reminded me I wasn’t ready then.”
Her voice dropped, low and deliberate.
“But I’m ready now.”
The camera caught the twitch in her jaw, the defiant fire building behind her eyes.
“Because while you’ve been reminding the world who you were, I’ve been rebuilding who I am. Every loss, every bloodied match, every night I came home and had to look my daughter in the eye and tell her mommy’s okay, it’s all led to this. To you. To this moment.”
A flash of the old Bella surfaced, the defiant, sharp-edged one.
“You want to talk about pain? I’ve lived it. You want to talk about pride? I’ve bled for mine. You want to talk about fire, Victoria? I am the goddamn wildfire that doesn’t go out.”
She stepped closer to the camera, too close now, her face filling the frame, her breath fogging the lens.
“And when we walk into that ring at Climax Control, I’m not coming to survive you this time. I’m coming to beat you. To prove that the Hardcore Queen doesn’t just endure, she conquers.”
Her voice softened, but her words hit harder than any scream could have.
“You had your reign. You had your throne. But it’s my turn now. My time. And when it’s all said and done, when they raise my hand and call my name, it won’t be because I got lucky...”
A faint, dangerous smile curved across her lips.
“It’ll be because I finally became everything you warned the rest of the roster about.”
She reached forward, stopping the recording — the screen going black just as her voice whispered, almost like a promise:
“Long live the Queen.”
