mrsnorrizz - Tumblr blog

mrsnorrizz · 14 days ago

Text

i don't believe this (i'm in love again!)

cm punk x reader

You don't watch wrestling. You don't know why you even agreed to go to this wrestling show. However, you DO know that whoever the cutie that's in the ring right now seems to be looking directly at you.

CM Punk sees you in the crowd and falls in love.

WORD COUNT: 3007 TAGS: gender neutral reader, meet-cute, ecw/roh punk, punk is in luvvvv TITLE INSPO: hit by the sugarcubes

(cross-posted to ao3, read here !!)

You don’t really watch wrestling. Like, at all.

On a Saturday night, you normally would be staying inside and watching a crappy movie while barely awake, but instead, you’re sitting inside of a venue watching a match all because your friend begged you to go with her. She promised she’d pay for a meal afterwards, and it’s not like you have anything to do, so you begrudgingly went.

Despite your hesitance, you were having a good time watching, even though you didn’t have a clue what was happening. Maybe the Ancient Greeks were onto something with Gladiators, because every single move that happened in the ring made the whole crowd erupt like animals.

As you asked something to your friend about how much longer this is gonna be on for, the entrance music of a new wrestler suddenly filled the room, making some of the more dedicated wrestling fans start cheering. You looked around to see who was entering until you saw him.

Oh my god, he’s cute.

While you watched this wrestler you had no clue about sauntering out into the ring, you shamelessly ogled at him. He came out in a black zip-up jacket with a white stripe across the chest, along with some red shorts and some generic black boots. As he combed his taped-up hands through his bleached hair, you could make out a piercing on his lip with the silvery metal glimmering from the light upstage. Despite his more alternative look, his face looked full of energy, which says a lot considering you weren’t sitting close to him in the slightest.

Not to mention he had a great build… You probably had no chance, but it doesn’t hurt to stare.

“Who is that?” you yelled while leaning over to your friend. The room was so loud that your yell was equivalent to a whisper. Your friend looked over at you and shouted back, “CM Punk!”

You were about to ask her what the hell CM meant, but as you were glancing back at this CM Punk guy, you noticed it felt like he was looking at you.

Okay, don’t be delusional.

You blinked a couple of times to make sure you weren’t being crazy, but the more you looked at him, the more it felt like he was truly staring at you. You gave a smile in case he truly was looking, and maybe you’re truly insane, but you could’ve sworn he smiled back.

“Okay, okay, maybe you were right,” you started, walking out of the arena with your friend. “Wrestling is fun to watch. I was wrong. Happy now?”

“Now I am!” your friend replied, snickering. You were about to ask her where she parked, but suddenly your friend stopped walking and said, “Oh, shoot, would you mind if I run to the bathroom really quickly before we go?”

“Go do your thing, I’ll wait here,” you assured, waving her off. She gave you a little “I’ll be quick” before she scurried back into the arena, leaving you standing in the cold outside. The parking lot was full of people shuffling into their cars and talking amongst themselves about the different matches.

As you looked around and fiddled with the hem of your shirt, you heard a voice behind you.

“Uhm, hi, hey,” the voice started. You turned around, shocked when you realized the voice was CM Punk. He looked tired and less… well, half naked, with him sporting a grey shirt under his jacket and some regular blue jeans.

Was he really looking at you during the match after all?

“I, um.. I saw you in the audience,” CM Punk started, fidgeting with his hands as he spoke. “I knew I'd be mad at myself if I didn’t try and talk to you.”

He seemed to be nervous, but his eyes remained fixed on you, which gave you the opportunity to admire their hazel-green color. God, he looked even cuter when face-to-face with you. You must’ve been a saint in a past life because karma had to be the only reason he would even notice you.

As you guys exchanged your hellos and formalities, he asked, “Do you, umm… have any plans right now?” You might’ve accidentally given him a funny look at his question, because he immediately started to backtrack and say, “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a creep, I just… would you maybe wanna go grab a bite with me?”

You were about to say yes in a heartbeat before you remembered your friend. Crap, she was your ride home…

“Um.. I’d love to, can I just call my friend super quickly?” you say, trying to smoothly pull your phone out from your pocket. CM Punk nodded and said, “Sure, sure, take your time.” If you didn’t end up going out to eat with him, at least you know he’s nice.

You stepped away and quickly sped through your contacts to find your friend, silently pleading for her to pick up for every ring. The second you heard her voice, you immediately started speaking.

“Hey, sorry this is sudden, but you know that CM Punk guy that just wrestled, like, 20 minutes ago?” you said quietly, trying to seem casual about how excited you are over this.

Your friend said on the other line, “Uhm, yeah, duh, what about him?”

You paused. “Okay, so… He may have just asked me out.”

“…Lying is a sin, you know that, righ-”

“I’m not lying!” you argue. “He just asked me if I wanna go get food with him, but I didn’t want to abandon you since that’s kind of a crappy move-”

“If you’re telling the truth and he seriously just asked you out, I’d be pissed if you didn’t go!” your friend interrupted you. “Go get that man!” You gave a sigh of relief and said, “Okay, okay, see you tomorrow then!”

With that, you hung up and turned back to CM Punk. “Well, where to?”

“I know there’s a diner nearby,” he said, seeming way more relieved at you officially accepting his offer. “My car’s somewhere in this area, except I can't see shit in the dark…” He muttered that last part, but you still caught it and giggled at his annoyance.

The two of you walked around the parking lot until he pointed to a grey car in the distance, picking up his pace. When the two of you reached the car, he quickly unlocked the car and hopped into the driver’s seat while you opened the passenger side door. His car wasn’t anything fancy, and honestly, the inside was pretty cluttered, but you didn’t care in the slightest. He could’ve had Fred Flintstone’s car, and you would still be gushing.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said, picking up some of the random receipts and junk lying on the passenger seat.

“Don’t worry, my car’s not any better,” you assured knowing damn well you clean your car regularly, sitting down and closing the car door. He grabbed the steering wheel, tapping on it with his fingers before saying, “Um… I don’t do this often. I don’t, y’know, normally ask out people after matches.”

He looked over at you. “..and I wasn’t even expecting you to not reject me from the get-go. You’re really gorgeous. Out of my league by a mile,” he said earnestly, gazing at you in a way that made you know he wasn’t just trying to flatter you.

You gave him a bashful smile and said, “You’re not giving yourself nearly enough credit.” You couldn’t see his face very clearly in the dark, but you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks turn ever-so-slightly redder.

Punk turned his key on the ignition and started slowly pulling out of the parking space, scanning around for the exit in the dark lot.

You and Punk arrived at a small diner near the area that seemed to be aiming for a 50s vibe, but then again, all diners have that “sort-of-vintage-sort-of-given-up” decor. He pulled into the parking lot and rummaged through his center console until he pulled a beat-up leather wallet.

Taking the key out of the ignition, he turned to look at you again and said, “Okay, ready to go?” You nodded and opened the door, moving over to his side and walking into the diner together.

After sitting down and ordering your meals from the waitress, you turned your attention back to your date. In the diner’s artificial light, you could see him way clearer compared to in the dark outside. His eyes looked more visibly tired, probably because he just got pummelled by a grown man not even an hour ago. As he shrugged off his jacket, you noticed his tattoos more clearly. Sure, you saw he was tattooed when he was out in the ring, but it’s hard to pick up detail when you aren’t face-to-face with the guy. As his hand pulled on the sleeves of his jacket while taking it off, you noticed the tattoo on his hand that said ‘NO GIMMICKS NEEDED’, not to mention his knuckle tattoos that spelled out ‘DRUG FREE’… You barely had a conversation with him so far, but his tattoos seemed to tell a story in themselves.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Punk jokes, grinning at your obvious staring. You yanked your gaze back to his eyes, slightly embarrassed, saying, “Sorry! I just – I really like your tattoos.” “Oh? Thank you,” Punk looked down at his arms as if he forgot he had ink on him. “You got any yourself?”

You shook your head. “I wish. I just don’t have any good ideas for what I’d wanna put on my body, like, permanently.” As you spoke, you aimlessly admired the heart tattoo he had near the inside of his arm. “Trust me, if I had a good idea, it’d be on me already.”

“If it makes you feel any better…” Punk lifted the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing to reveal his large Pepsi tattoo resting atop his shoulder. “I don’t have the most meaningful tattoos ever.” As he let go of his sleeve, he rested his elbows on the table and leaned closer to you. “I think you’d look great both with and without tattoos, though.”

Just as you were about to compliment him back, the waiter came strolling over with your guys' drinks and plates of food. After taking a bite from your surprisingly good burger, you looked back up at Punk, who must have been starving after his match because a good third of his burger had already been scarfed down.

“So, how’s it like being a wrestler?” you asked, making him perk up. “Sorry, that’s probably a lame question,” you backtracked, taking a sip of whatever soda you ordered. Punk shook his head and replied, “No, no, it’s not lame, wrestling’s… a very weird career, to say the least.”

“Weird?”

“Well, for starters, I get paid to get beat up and beat up other guys,” Punk jokes, making you stifle a laugh. “It’s definitely fun, though. Not for everybody, but I’m not everybody,” Punk quipped while stuffing his face with the fries he ordered.

“Do you only do wrestling?” you followed up. “Like, for work, I mean.” Punk nodded, swallowing before continuing, “I used to work at a comic book store, but once my wrestling career took off, I just stuck to this.”

“That’s enough about me, though… what do you do for work?” Punk asked, sipping his drink. You still feel like you don’t know nearly enough about this guy, but if he’s asking you questions, who are you to not like the attention?

“I’m in school right now,” you say, “I’m getting my bachelor’s, but I work as a receptionist part-time.” You pause, trying to get through your words without seeming like such a bore. “It is not as cool as wrestling, that’s for sure.”

Punk chuckled at your own self-deprecation before adding, “–way less injuries, though.”

“If injuries are your dealbreaker, I think you might be in the wrong line of work,” you jokingly counter.

Punk laughed at that, sipping his drink before saying, “You think?”

“Wait, wait, wait.. now I need to ask,” you start, “What is the worst injury you’ve ever gotten?”

Punk thought to himself for a moment – okay, if he’s thinking, then at least he didn’t get something crazy – before answering, “I once fractured my skull.”

Wow, nevermind.

“Okay, I was gonna explain, you can pick up your jaw,” Punk chastised, smiling at your shock. “It was… I wanna say it was near the beginning of my career. I tried to do a neckbreaker move, and I thought I broke my neck while the match was going on, which, y’know, that’s still–” Punk furrowed his brow and winced, “– but whatever. Anyways, once the match was over, it felt like the biggest challenge just walking from the ring to backstage.”

“Other than that… maybe a broken nose,” Punk finished, acting like he just told you a mildly infuriating anecdote, meanwhile you were still trying to envision how the hell a fractured skull probably feels like. You shook your head and commented, “I don’t know if I’ve ever even gotten, like, a fraction of that level of pain.”

“Trust me, you’re not missing out,” Punk noted, stuffing his face with some of his fries.

The two of you talked casually about your guys’ lives and interests as you ate – or, in the case of Punk, inhaled – your meals. When the waiter came back to ask about dessert, Punk raised an eyebrow at you as if to silently ask if you were still hungry, but it was getting late, and you unfortunately had work the next morning. Once Punk – who insisted on paying for your food despite you telling him you were definitely capable enough to pay for your own $8 meal – covered the bill, the two of you walked back out into the cold and into his car.

While Punk turned the car on and adjusted the heating, you looked over at him. A nearby light pole was casting a halo around his silhouette, making him look otherworldly despite his unassuming look. The light against his jet-black hair made him look like a solar eclipse you can’t seem to look away from.

“What?” Punk asked you, noticing you staring. “Do I got somethin’ on me?” He brought his hands up to half-hazardly wipe whatever he assumed was the reason for your gawking. Instead, you just shook your head and said, “You just look really good right now.”

“You know, it’s unfair how nervous you make me,” Punk teased while starting his attempt to pull out of the parking lot.

As Punk merged onto the nearby road, he glanced over at you and asked, “Where do I turn?”

“Keep going down this road,” you signaled, all while digging in your pocket for your phone. All your most recent messages have been your friend begging for details on your date, so you sent a quick ‘on my way home’ text to hopefully satisfy at least her craving for how long the date was.

As Punk drove, the two of you mostly sat in silence, only broken up by your directions. The lack of conversation wasn’t awkward; if anything, it felt comforting being able to sit in each other's presence without feeling an obligation to keep speaking. As the two of you reached closer and closer to your house, you told him to make a turn at the Circle K nearby.

“Just drop me off here,” you said, pointing to the convenience store’s neon sign. Punk turned into the lot, but he furrowed his brow and asked, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I wanted to pick up a few things anyway.” Punk parked at the front of the lot before proceeding to rummage through the center console of his car for a pen and an old receipt for CVS.

“I have another show here tomorrow,” he started, flipping the receipt over to the back while scrawling something on it, “but in case you can’t make it…”

After he finished writing, he held out the receipt with his phone number on the back. “Give me a call sometime. I really enjoyed hanging out with you.”

You grabbed the receipt from his hands, giving him a bashful smile. “I enjoyed it too.”

You held the receipt, but your hand didn’t move away from his. Instead, the two of you just held onto it while staring at each other. He had a soft expression, but the fiery glint he always seemed to have in his eyes made you feel like you were all he was focused on right now. You noticed his eyes seemed to be bouncing from your eyes to your lips.

“Can.. can I ki–”

You cut him off by answering his question before he could even get all the words out, closing the distance between you two with a soft kiss. His lips felt soft against yours, and although you could’ve stayed in his car and kissed him senseless for eternity, your body was aching to go back home as fast as possible.

You pulled away and looked at his astonished expression. His hazel eyes looked so blown out you would’ve assumed they were black if you didn’t know their true tone, slightly widened just looking at you like you’re an angel descended from the heavens. You tried not to giggle at his expression, instead moving some of the stray hairs out of his face before grabbing the receipt.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” you say. Punk nodded, seemingly still starstruck and saying “yeah, yeah” while you opened the door and stepped out. You waved goodbye at him before closing the door and scurried over to the front of the Circle K. You watched him reverse out of the lot and drive off as the wind blew against you.

You just met him, but somehow it felt like you’ve been wanting to know him your whole life.

(let me know if you enjoyed reading!!! im new to posting on tumblr so lord knows i need all the interaction i can get LOL)

366 notes · View notes