#samoa joe fan fiction

[thlayli-ra]

Stray (part 12)

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Samoa Joe, Gunther, Ludwig Kaiser

Pairing - CM Punk/Drew McIntyre, CM Punk/Samoa Joe (past)

AU - Stray AU

Rating - Mature (18+)

Warnings - Depictions of violence, injury detail

Words - ~3,500 words

Summary - Was it all worth the risk?

Panic!

Terrible, all-consuming panic!

It gripped every piece of Drew and refused to let go. From the moment he heard that voice, he'd lost all feeling in his body, every sense driven right out of him with blinding fear at the arrival of the man who had caged and tortured him relentlessly.

'How very touching,' the General stated, still clapping his hands menacingly. 'The damsel in distress has fallen for his knight in shining armour - how sweet! Cliched, but sweet.'

A sudden movement to his left and Punk was standing between himself and Gunther. Drew's mind screamed at him to grab the cage-fighter and stop him but his limbs refused to move, stuck fast like rusted tin. Unable to do anything but watch Punk straighten his battered body out, chin up and brows furrowed. His feet were planted, cuffed hands raised to shield his face, shoulders slightly stooped and it was then that Drew realised this was Punk's fighting stance.

Despite being bound, beaten and broken, the warrior was still ready for battle. The Scot felt dizzy all of a sudden. This man who had already sacrificed so much for him, who bore bruises and bandages for him, who's tender fingers had been snapped one-by-one for him, and yet, he refused to back down. What little breath he had left in his lungs, he was willing to put on the line for a man he barely knew.

A stabbing pain ached in Drew's chest.

'I hoped you would come back for him,' Gunther's piercing eyes found Drew and he cowered back. There was no hiding from the General - he could see him clearly over the top of Punk's head. His terror took over and he shuffled closer to Punk, curling the tips of his fingers over the waistband of the black briefs and holding on tight. Punk let out a small grunt, as if in pain but did not lower his fists.

'And even if you didn't,' Gunther went on, 'it did not matter. I had a new toy to play with. Isn't that right?' He sneered at Punk who flared his nostrils in reply, fire blazing behind his hazel eyes. 'We've had a lot of fun together, haven't we?'

Punk jerked, about to make a move when a deep voice boomed across the room.

'Hang back, Phil.' Joe appeared at Punk's side, cracking his knuckles. 'I've got this.'

Far from looking threatened, Gunther seemed more perplexed. Tilting his head at the large-set man, he uttered, 'I don't remember inviting you.'

'Get Drew out of here,' Joe ordered his ex.

'Not a chance,' Punk spat back. 'I'm not leaving you, fuck that!'

Joe placed a solid hand on his shoulder. 'For once, don't argue with me. Please?'

Punk hesitated, hopping irritably from foot-to-foot but before he could act, Gunther interrupted the moment.

'Nobody is going anywhere.'

Opening the lapel of his military coat, he unleashed a loaded handgun, pulling back the safety with his thumb. All three men froze, rabbits caught in the headlights of a speeding car. 'At least, not without my saying so' Gunther smiled ruthlessly at his prisoners, aiming the gun directly at Punk. Drew yanked back on his saviour's briefs, trying to pull Punk away, a pitiful attempt to save him from harm but it was useless. Where could they go? What could he do? They were all trapped, cornered deep underground where nobody could hear their screams or the blast of gunfire. Fish in a barrel, waiting for their turn on the chopping block.

'Ludwig?'

The General's lackey appeared behind him, similarly armed. He'd been hidden away, blocking their only exit this whole time. They truly never stood a chance.

'I don't need this one,' Gunther said, pointing at Joe. 'Take him upstairs and... deal with him.' Ludwig gave a sharp nod of his head and advanced towards Joe with his pistol up. The large-set man raised his hands, his face pensive. Calm and cool as he was marched out of the room by the blonde.

Punk on the other hand...

'Hey, wait! What's happening? Where are you taking him?' He lunched forward, tried to grasp Joe's hand before he disappeared from sight but Gunther thrust the gun towards him, forcing him back.

'Don't worry about your friend,' the General sneered, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. 'He won't feel a thing. You should worry more about yourselves.' Punk shoved Drew backwards in order to put some distance between them and their capturer. 'Now, the question is...' Gunther waved the gun between his two prisoners. '...what to do with you both? I'm sure that, with enough persuasion, we could squeeze both of you into that cage. What do you think? You could be together at last?'

The cage-fighter had planted his feet again, fists raised, putting his body on the line to shield Drew. The Scot held tighter onto his waistband, afraid to let go.

'Or should I look at this in a more practical way? Two slaves, two mouths to feed. And with Vinci gone, our numbers are even. No, now that I think about it, two is too many. But the question is; which one do I dispose of? You?' He focused the gun right between Punk's eyes. Before lifting it up to Drew's height. 'Or you...?'

In a flash, Punk was gone, torn free from Drew's grasp. He gaped at the cage-fighter's rippling shoulder blades rushing away, right towards Gunther. His cuffed hands grabbed the larger man's gun hand by the wrist and threw it up to the sky. The gun fired, the whizz and clang of the bullet's ricocheting off the concrete walls screeched in all three men's ears.

'DREW!' The Scot heard Punk's cry and found him tussling with Gunther's arm, fighting to keep it raised up out of harm's way. 'GET OUT OF HERE!' But it was a hopeless battle and before Drew could move a muscle, Gunther wrestled back control. A deafening chop swiped Punk off like an annoying fly. The tattooed man hit the floor hard, landing nastily on his front. He cried out as a boot stamped into his lower back, keeping him down, vaguely aware that he was the target of the handgun's crosshairs again. Closer this time. Dangerously close.

Above him, Gunther snarled at Drew, stuck fast like his feet were embedded in dried concrete. 'Get into your cage. Now!'

'DON'T LISTEN TO HIM, DREW! RUN FOR-' The cold, steel muzzle of the gun pressed into the back of his skull. Punk froze, afraid to even breath, one wrong move away from death.

The horror was mutual. Drew let out a strangled wail of desperation.

'Get in your cage. NOW!'

What could he do but obey? If that's what it would take to save Punk? His vision turned blurry, a film of tears locked tight behind the membrane. He lowered his head, turned and started to shuffle towards the dreaded cage in the corner.

'No... Drew, no...'

'SILENCE!' Gunther rammed his boot into Punk's cheek. A splatter of blood ripped from his splintered lips across the filthy floor. 'You have been fun, little fighter, but you are too much trouble. Why waste my time training you when I already have a good, obedient slave to play with, hmm?' Punk's whole body jerked at a sharp click right beside his ear. The General chuckled viciously; he had only put the safety back on.

'Shooting you is too quick. Too painless. Let's string you back up again and finish what we started yesterday, only this time, your 'lover boy' can watch.' Gunther bent down to grab Punk, Drew turning slightly to spy the huge man ripping the bandages away from Punk's stomach. He nearly threw up when strips of tattered, raw flesh were revealed beneath. Red, wet ribbons where once there had been soft, lightly tanned skin.

And words!

It suddenly dawned on Drew what they had done. He dreaded to think how, but they had scraped away the 'straight edge' tattoo that had arched over his naval.

As soon as Gunther had torn away the last of the bandages he socked Punk right in his flayed abdomen. The cage-fighter crumpled with a cry. The General grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him towards the hook hanging from the ceiling.

'Yes, he can watch,' he said again with a heartless sneer. 'Watch as I strip every last piece of flesh from your bones. Watch his saviour scream and beg, watch him die slowly and painfully right before his-

'NO!'

The room went still.

A look of furious shock twisted Gunther's face as he looked down at his captive.

But Punk had not been the one who'd spoken.

Two pairs of wide, shocked eyes turned to Drew who stood tall in front of his cage. Fists clenched at his side, shoulders heaving. Every inch of him shook but there was a determination in his eyes that would not waver.

Gunther was the one to break the silence. 'Did you just-'

'No!' Drew returned, his voice croaky but firm.

Both Gunther and Punk stared back, stunned with disbelief. 'Drew...' Punk hushed out, his hazel eyes turning watery. But then he was tossed to the ground.

'You will not utter another word,' Gunther's heels clicked as he walked towards Drew, his voice low and threatening like a growl. 'You will do as I say and get back into your cage.'

'No,' Drew shook his head defiantly. Staring down his tormentor, he pawed at his throat. His legs wobbling like jelly as he unfastened the collar and pulled it away from his neck. Brave, quivering hands threw it at Gunther's feet. The General gawked at the discarded collar while Drew lifted a finger and tapped it against his chest, right over his heart. 'N-not... y-yours!'

The General's features darkened at the disobedience of his prisoner and he thumbed the safety back on his pistol again. 'I will not repeat myself a third time. Get. Back. In. Your-'

Drew pounced, shoulder low, tackling Gunther to the floor. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he stumbled up to straddle the man who had tortured him for so long and pulled back his fist. The first punch slammed hard into Gunther's mouth, cracking against his teeth through the soft flesh of his lips, the second's aim was poor and hit his cheekbone. It didn't matter; the seal was broken. Old habits and muscle memory flooding back into the ground-down Scot, and he may as well have been in a seedy warehouse, surrounded by baying men, fighting for his life.

He remembered all the pain and humiliation that he'd been subjected to, first from Regal, then from Gunther and his henchmen. He thought of his beautiful, brave and selfless saint, Punk, who'd shown him nothing but kindness, imagined the horrors they had inflicted on him and the fury exploded out of him like flames finding several canisters of gasoline. Drew attacked his hated foe with a barrage of punches and forearms, breaking skin and teeth and bones until their face turned into a mask of hideous red..

But his target was not just anyone. He was a seasoned fighter too, a champion, a cut-throat killer and he bucked under Drew's hips, using the Scotsman's weight to unbalance him and toppled him onto his back. Suddenly it was Drew pinned down on the floor, the General on top and he beat the Scot mercilessly. Each chop to his chest cracking against his sternum, breaking it apart.

The murderous demolition of his body felt all too familiar to Drew. Brining him back to that time when he'd first thrown his collar at his new master's feet. Back when he had felt the fingers of death briefly grab hold. He could feel them again now, digging their claws in and even though he tried to block the fists pounding down on him, he knew he would not survive a second time.

Two huge hands grabbed the sides of his face, thick thumbs boring against his eyes, gouging their way in. Gunther spat at him in German, harsh, barking words that tore holes in his ear drums. The thumbs dug in deeper and Drew opened his mouth to scream when a large hand squeezed around his tongue and pulled, trying to yank it right out of his mouth.

'GET OFF OF HIM, YOU FUCKER!'

The hands suddenly released him and Drew blinked up to find Punk on Gunther's back, bare legs wrapped tight around his wide waist, and his hands on either side of the larger man's neck. The short chain of his cuffs pressing against his jugular. Punk heaved back with everything he had, holding on tightly with his locked legs as Gunther writhed beneath him like an enraged bull. The cage-fighter grit his teeth, closed his eyes, pulled tighter but it was no use. Gunther was too strong. His hold was slipping-

Drew leapt up and wrapped his huge arms around the behemoth, pinning Gunther's arms to his side in an anaconda grip. His legs went limp, weighing down the large-set man like an anchor to the floor. Gunther squirmed and struggled against his grasp, face turning a heated red with rage. Punk arched his back, every muscle and vein bulging from his forearms as he wrenched on the chain, jamming it deep into Gunther's jugular.

'Go to sleep, you motherfucker. Sleep! Sleep!'

And Drew clung desperately, holding his tormentor down and Punk kept applying the pressure and finally, finally the monster started to weaken. Dry, shallow gasps as his windpipe was cut off, a floppiness setting into his limbs.

His knees buckled, he fell forward. Drew let go and he collapsed against the floor, Punk falling with him, still attached to his back like a spider monkey. But even when his battered body collided with the ground, Punk reset his shoulders and pulled on the chain, not taking any chances. Drew watched as the General's terrible face turned purple, lips going slack, eyes lolling.

'Is he-?' Punk glanced up at him.

Cat paw.

Punk relaxed his arms, left them dangling around Gunther's neck as he tried to will some breath back into his spent body. Bu Drew never once removed his gaze from his tormentor, watching his chest, looking for any signs of life. Once upon a time he would have silently willed his opponent to 'breathe... breathe' but this time he did not care. Did not care if the sadistic man lived or died.

The barrel chest began moving. He lived. Drew fought back the disappointment.

Punk couldn't move. Drew had to help him thread his bound arms over his defeated foe's head and up to his shaky feet. He nearly keeled right over again and Drew held him close, being mindful not to graze the gruesome wounds on his stomach. 'We need to get out of here,' Punk said through his rapid pants. 'We have to find Joe before they-'

'Before they what?'

The two men snapped around at the sound of a welcoming voice and saw Joe walk in with Ludwig's pistol in his hand. Punk huffed out a laugh, smiling wide as he stumbled over to his ex and threw his arms around him. 'You son-of-a-bitch!'

'Oh, come on, you didn't really think that scrawny twink could take me, did you?' Joe looked down at Gunther's unresponsive body. 'Can't believe you two finished that asshole off before I had a chance to kill him myself.'

'You were taking too long,' Punk teased.

'Yeah, about that...' Joe heaved a sigh, catching Punk's worried eye. 'I was calling the cops. They're on their way.' He glanced between the two lovers, catching their collective panic. 'Get Drew out of here.'

'W-what?' Punk gaped at Joe.

'I'll deal with the police. Now go, get Drew out of here while you can.'

But Punk faltered. Looking up, he caught sight of the Scot, trembling from head to foot, a line of fresh blood lining his cheek. He glanced over the scars marring his body, his big blue eyes full of trauma and pain. The unconscious body of the man who'd imprisoned him, tortured him, assaulted him lying at his feet.

'No...' Punk replied, resigned.

'What?' Joe spluttered.

'Those bastards have to be put away,' Punk said, his voice small and pained, 'if not, they'll keep coming for him again and again. They need to pay for what they did to him.' He spread out his tattooed arms, exposing the gruesome wounds covering his body. 'I'm a walking piece of evidence. Drew's their main witness. We need to be here, to talk to the cops.'

'But Phil,' Joe stepped in close, cupping his large hand around the back of Punk's head. An old gesture that comforted the stricken cage-fighter. 'He's an illegal immigrant. They might send him-'

'You were right before,' Punk cut in, scrubbing his tongue backwards and forwards over his lip to stop his emotions bursting free, 'I was being selfish. I have to do what's best for Drew, even if...' he looked up, caught those blue eyes watching him and he nearly broke down, '... even if it tears me apart.'

Drew rushed for him, pulled him in tight and stroked a hand through his hair. It felt good, being the one comforted for a change, being cared for.

From the sidelines, Joe ignored the sinking feeling in his chest. 'Go outside the pair of you,' he said to them. 'Get some fresh air and look out for the cops. I'll keep an eye on this piece of shit.' Waving his stolen gun to emphasise his point, Joe took up position over the fallen General while Drew helped Punk out the door and up the stairs.

Dawn was breaking outside. Not the spectacular kind but the quiet, sullen kind that usually preceded a wet, grey Chicago day. To Punk, however, it was the most welcome, beautiful sight. He breathed in the air of freedom greedily, for even though his capture had only been a matter of hours, he had truly believed he would never make it out of that cold room again.

The wind lifted and Punk began to shiver against its chill. Warm fabric engulfed his shoulders and he discovered the royal blue jacket he'd given to Drew. The tall Scot pulled the lapels in tight and zipped it up, ensuring the embers of his body heat didn't escape and kept the frozen cage-fighter warm.

With some difficulty, Drew helped Punk down the ladder to the ground and the two of them walked to the gates of the compound. There, they found the splayed body of Ludwig, bruised and battered with his hands tied to a metal post with a belt. Joe's handiwork, obviously. The blonde was starting to stir. Punk gave him a fierce kick to the head to put him back under again.

'That's for breaking my fingers, asshole!' Punk spat.

Prompted by his words, Drew reached for the cage-fighter's injured hand and gently lifted it up, placing a kiss on each digit. 'They'll heal,' Punk tried to comfort the Scot but he continued lavishing his affection on both of Punk's tattooed hands. His busted knuckles, his strapped fingers, his chafed wrists. Every part of those wondrous, miraculous hands.

He crossed his own hands over each other, went to place them against his chest but paused. Rapid thoughts whirred behind his blue eyes as he smiled softly and gently grasped Punk's hands again. 'L-lo-v-ve,' he stuttered out, huffing a laugh at the welcoming sound of his long-lost voice. He pointed to the first of Punk's fingers, counting them down as he went, 'love, love, love, love...' each repetition growing more confident and clear. Ten in all, one for each finger until at last, he hesitated. Blue eyes flickered up to catch hazel. 'Love,' he said at last, circling his thumb around his chest in a figure of eight.

Punk gasped, his words failing him.

Drew's brows quirked upwards, questioning, as he pointed a finger at his own chest. '... love?'

He felt numb all of a sudden, on the verge of floating away on the wind itself, as light and as fragile as a feather.

'You know what...' the corner of his mouth curled, '..I think I might. Fuck...'

Drew's perfect pink lips spread wide in a dazzling smile as he grabbed Punk's face, the cage-fighter hopping up onto the tip of toes again and their lips met. No more hesitation, no more doubt. They were taking the chance while they could. Red and blue lights began to flicker around them, the wail of sirens breaking the silence of the night, but the neither of them noticed, too engrossed in their lover's sweet embrace.

And when they finally broke apart, Punk nuzzling against the glow of Drew's hand, his thumb gently stroking back and forth over his swollen lips, he knew he had made the right choice that dark, stormy night.

He had risked it all for Drew.

And he would gladly do it again.

To be continued…

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[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Wages of Sin

Before I found tumblr, I seriously believed I was the only person on Earth whose pulse went up when Samoa Joe appeared. He just broadcasts pure dominant energy and power. I miss seeing him in the ring but I’m glad he’s still on my tv on a (mostly) weekly basis. 

Pairing: Samoa Joe x reader

Word count: 3,732

Content advisory: BDSM smut

It was all you could do not to roll your eyes at his expression when you came in the door. It was always the same with men: they called to have a computer technician come over and when a woman showed up, they looked at you like there had been some mistake. Some would even be so gauche as to ask if you were qualified to do this sort of work. This guy wasn’t that bad but when he saw you, his eyes swept up and down over your body, lingering on your breasts longer than he should have before he waved you inside with nothing more than a grunt. 

“The computer’s in the office,” he informed you. “First door on the left back there. Off the kitchen. It’s been slowing down for a while and now it won’t even start up.”

“Ok. Other than slowing down, have there been any other problems you’ve noticed, Mr…” 

“Joe,” he grunts. “Joe is fine. And yeah, there have been a bunch of programs crashing.”

“Well, Joe, why don’t we have a look and see what the problem is?”

You head in the direction that he’s indicated and enter a neatly organized office space. There’s a desk in one corner, but the room is dominated by a large section coach flanked  by a couple of odd looking benches. It’s strange, because there’s no television in the room, no books, nothing that would indicate this was a place where one would sit and relax. You shrug it off. Maybe he likes to take a nap after he’s done working. Maybe this is where he takes women to seduce them.

Immediately, you try to push that image from your mind. You hate to admit it, even to yourself, but when he gave you that once-over, you’d felt a shiver run through your whole body. He was massive and while at first glance he’d appeared fat, you quickly saw that he was just powerfully built. As he stood behind you and watched what you working, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt, pushing them up and revealing forearms like iron girders, the kind of arms you could imagine holding you down with ease, choking you, forcing you to do whatever he wanted. 

You try to shake those thoughts out of your head and focus on the task at hand. You boot up his computer in safe mode and, once you’re able to get a look around, it’s clear that the problem is a large number of files that have taken up so much space that the computer barely has any available memory to launch or run anything. On top of that, there are multiple malware programs that are deviously working away. You’ll have to work on those right away in order to get the computer stable enough for you to see the files and try to clear out some space. 

He stands behind you as you start to untangle the electronic knots, his breath heavy and incredibly distracting. 

“This is gonna take me a while,” you tell him.

“Well I’ll leave you to it then.” His tone is friendly but there’s a dark undertone to it, like he can see inside your mind and know that he’s having an effect on you. 

Once he’s gone, you settle down and focus on the task at hand. He pokes his head in a couple of times but leaves you alone otherwise. It’s just as well because what he’s got is a real mess and it takes a lot of work to identify and then scrub the malware. Normally, you could run a program to deal with the majority of the work but his computer is so unstable that it can’t run anything, meaning that you have to do everything manually. 

Thirteen programs. It takes two and a half hours but you’re finally able to remove all traces of the thirteen programs that have contaminated his hard drive. The early winter light is already starting to fade and now you have to start isolating files. Protocol is that you identify duplicates and separate them onto a second drive without ever looking but everyone takes a peek to see what secrets a client has. Nine times out of ten it’s porn, usually varying flavors of vanilla. It’s never happened to you personally, but a couple of the people you work with have found photos or videos of kids, something that immediately gets reported to the cops. (Peeking at a client’s files is unethical but not illegal, meaning that what the technician sees is fair game.)

When you see that the files are almost all videos, you figure you pretty much know what you’re in for. The nature of the videos, though, is more than you bargained for. This is hardcore stuff, all women getting flogged and bound and taken roughly in every hole as they scream in pain and ecstasy at the same time. There are dozens if not hundreds like this and mixed in among them are videos of Joe himself, proudly displaying his naked body and a thick cock that you can imagine would be rough to take even under normal circumstances.   

Watching all this, you feel your breathing grow faster and that familiar wetness in your core soaking your panties within minutes. The fact is that you’ve desperately wanted a man who’d take you like this, who’d use you and brutalize you, but you’d never found one. You’d eventually had to dump your last boyfriend because the sex was so boring you found yourself repulsed by it. You’ve watched plenty of videos like these at home, but knowing you were only a couple of rooms away from a man who clearly indulged in these activities a lot makes you squirm in your seat, trying to get some friction against the seam of your jeans to relieve a bit of the pressure. 

Your eyes flicker towards the benches you’d noticed when you came in and now you know what their purpose is. You open another file, Joe again with a woman tied up and bent nearly double, his hand wound around her pony tale as he pounds mercilessly into her. 

Looking once again at the benches, you imagine him strapping you to one and whipping you, making you beg for him. 

The woman in the video is screaming non-stop about how good he feels, how she deserves what she’s getting, welcoming every vile slur he hurls at her. 

You’re so caught up in what you’re seeing and in what you’re imagining that you don’t notice that the sound on this video is a fair bit higher than in the others, and are caught totally off-guard when you hear the voice behind you. 

“See something you like?” he drawls. 

Right away, you feel not just your face but your whole upper body grow hot with humiliation. It’s one thing for you to be fantasizing but this is you getting caught invading a customer’s privacy. Even if it’s understood that everybody does it, you’ll be lucky to keep your job if and when he complains. 

“Not really my scene,” you lie. “But I don’t judge. I just need to sort through stuff to free up some space. I’m going to install an external drive and move your videos there. It’s an extra charge but it’s not too much. You can call the office to find out the exact amount if you want.”

Joe gives a noncommittal sound and walks away without another glance. Your cheeks are still burning an hour later when you’ve dutifully moved the files onto the external drive, careful not to open a single one, even though you’re dying of curiosity. Trembling, you pack up your stuff and prepare to make a shame-faced exit. You’re wondering if you should just apologize to him, maybe say that you opened one of the files by accident and just started poking around, not quite believing what you were seeing. You’re unable to decide if that would be better than saying nothing and trying to pretend that nothing had happened. He’s standing in front of the door with an unfriendly look on his face. 

“Well,” you begin unsteadily, “you haven’t lost any files. There wasn’t any permanent damage, so other than moving some stuff to an external drive, everything will be exactly the way it was, but it’ll run a lot faster.” 

He folds his arms and looks down his nose at you without speaking. It takes you a few seconds to figure out what to say next under the weight of his stare. 

“There were a bunch of malware programs I had to remove. That was what was causing most of the problem. There are certain sites that tend to… have… lots of those things. Anyway, I installed newer antiviral software that should block them.”

You sound completely lost and you are. You feel like, rather than registering a complaint with your employer, Joe is preparing to kill you and eat you for violating his privacy. In the interest of getting out before you’re made into a main course, you opt to stop speaking and to leave the subject of your intrusion out of the conversation. 

As you reach for the doorknob, though, Joe presses his arm against the door and his scowl deepens. 

“You lied to me,” he seethes. 

“Excuse me?”

“Before. You were lying when you said you weren’t interested in those videos. I can always tell.”

“Oh,” you murmur, “about that. Look, I’m really sorry that I was going through your-”

“Yeah, that’s not what we’re talking about little girl.”

“It isn’t?” You feel yourself shrinking back from him and he leans closer as you do, until your back is pressed into the doorframe.

“No,” he purrs. “We’re talking about you and how you were turned on by what you saw. We’re talking about how your panties are probably still soaked because you were so excited.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you fight to think of something to say. His broad chest is just inches from you, heat radiating from him and clouding your thoughts even more. 

“I have to go,” is what you’re eventually able to croak. 

“Is that so?” he hums. “Well I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna go get into something more comfortable. If you want to go, you go. I won’t stop you. But if you want to find out what I can do to you, what I can make you feel, then you get back in the office and wait for me.”

He steps back and heads up the stairs without another syllable, leaving you with a decision to make. There are assuredly better ways for you to find a man to dominate you. But you’ve seen what this man can do and you’ve felt the power and confidence roll off him, leaving you quivering inside and out. You take a deep breath and head back down to his office. 

He makes you wait. It’s a good fifteen or twenty minutes before he reappears wearing nothing but boxers, a towel over his shoulders and an arrogant expression that says he never had any doubt you’d be here. 

“Eyes down.” It’s an order, you know, even though he speaks as quietly as ever, and you immediately comply. 

You’re able to see him toss the towel on the sofa and you hear him opening something- a drawer?- and then close it again a second later. Whatever he was looking for, he knew exactly where it was. 

“Top off and hands behind your back.” His voice is behind you, even as ever. 

You comply right away, stripping yourself of your sweater and t-shirt, hesitating a little at the thought of removing your bra. 

“Everything off,” he whispers, much closer than he was before. 

Keeping your eyes on the floor, you remove it and try to steady your breath. You feel a light line traced across your back by something you can’t identify. It’s thin and pliable, but has some strength to it, like the branch of a sapling. It makes you shiver as he continues to move it softly back and forth across the widest part of your back. 

“So you like snooping around in other people’s things, do you?”

“No,” you stammer, “I don’t usually do that, I don’t know what I was-”

Immediately, there’s a sharp crack as he brings the branch-like thing, a riding crop, you guess, down on your back with force. You give a short scream and your breathing speeds up as you feel the pain leak from the narrow band of impact across your skin. 

“You’re lying to me again,” he taunts. “We both know you do that kind of thing all the time, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, trying to focus on anything but the pain and at the same time feeling the juices pooling between your thighs.

“What a bad girl you are.” You flex your muscles, anticipating another strike but he does nothing. You let yourself exhale and relax just a little and that’s when the second blow comes, even harder than the first. The scream you give is louder and tears spring to your eyes. Behind you, you hear him hum in satisfaction and it reverberates in your core. 

“You were watching quite a few of those videos. I saw you,” he continues, to your shame. “Tell me, what did you like the most about them?”

“I- I don’t know…”

This time, the strike hits the flesh of your inner arm, exposed because you have your hands clasped behind your back, the way he told you. 

“If you’re not going to be honest with me, this is going to be a very rough night for you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” And there’s a sharp impact on your other arm that draws a sob and a long whine. 

“Get to the point, little girl.”

“I liked seeing you. I got turned on by what you were doing to those women because I’ve wanted someone to do those things to me.”

He presses himself against your back, running his thumb roughly along one of the whip marks he’s made there. “Now was that so hard?”

You shake your head, struggling to keep your eyes fixed on the ground as he circles around you. He presses the handle end of the riding crop- you were right about that- under your chin. 

“Look at me.”

You do as you're told, more tears dripping from your eyes as you lift your head. 

“Already crying? Are you sure you want this?”

“I do,” you assure him, nodding your head vigorously. 

“It only gets rougher from here,” he warns you. “So if you want it to stop…”

“I want to keep going.”

“So you think you deserve to be punished.”

“I do.”

“You know what you did was wrong. And you know that you’re a filthy girl for liking what you saw so much.”

“Yes.”

“That’s ‘yes, sir’” he corrects you sharply. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you think about doing things like that when you’re by yourself? About big, mean taking whatever they want from you? About them hurting you and using you?”

“Yes.”

You hear the sound of the riding crop cutting through the air, but not in time to brace yourself for the impact. It hits right across your nipples and if you had thought that the blows to your back and arms hurt, they were nothing compared to this. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” you sob. 

He snaps the riding crop across the same point, the center of both nipples, making you shriek. 

“Show me your hands.”

You lift them for his inspection and he whips your palms repeatedly, like you’re a misbehaving child. 

“Now take off the rest of your clothes,” he instructs. “And give me your panties.”

You move to follow the order, flinching in pain at having to use your wounded hands. He paces in front of you, seeming impatient but letting you take the time you need to get fully undressed. When you’re done, you offer him the garment he requested, which he snatches away from you. 

He smirks as he rolls them around in his hand. To your relief, he places the riding crop on the desk behind him before he approaches you. 

“What’s this?” he sneers, wiping the soaked cotton over your face. “Is this because of what you saw?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You liked it even more than I thought. You really are a dirty little slut. Do you think you deserve to be punished more?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ask me.”

“Please, sir,” you stammer, “I want you to punish me because I’m a dirty slut who got turned on watching your videos.”

He gives you a smirk that carries just a hint of approbation. “Very good, slut. Go kneel on the sofa, ass out, arms on the back.”

You scurry over and do exactly as you’ve been told. Once you’re in position, he follows you, hovering over you. 

“Your eyes stay straight ahead,” he cautions. 

He kneels on the sofa beside you and reaches down, producing a pair of handcuffs already attached to the old-fashioned heater, obviously installed for the purpose of chaining women in place. You let him take your wrists and manacle them, flinching because the metal is actually hot on your skin. Once again, he disappears behind you. 

His hand comes down on your ass with a thunderous noise and you swear you can feel the reverberations in your skeleton. You let out a half-gasp, half-cry but before you’re able to regroup, he smacks your other cheek just as hard, if not harder. He continues this, increasing the pace as he does until you’re screaming and crying. 

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“I… I think so?”

“I don’t know,” he muses, “your pussy is dripping. I think we might need to look at punishing you another way. I think I might have to pound that slit with my cock to show you what happens to dirty sluts who go looking at things they’re not supposed to.”

“Yes, sir, you should.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Yes, please, sir, I want your cock.”

“What’s that?”

“Please fuck me, sir. Show me how bad I am.”

He bends over you, pushing his boxers off, and whispers harshly in your ear, “Well as long as you’re absolutely sure.”

You nod and he accepts that, grasping your bruised ass tightly and ramming into you like a jackhammer. He pounds relentlessly, leaving you with nothing to do but take what he’s giving, gasping and mewling in ecstasy as each brutal thrust seems to increase the sensitivity of your cunt, the sensation of pleasure flooding through you. 

“Is this what you needed?” he snarls, panting. 

“Yes, oh god, yes!” You’re a little shocked at the volume of your own voice but all you want to do is scream because what he’s giving you is what you’ve fantasized about for so long, what your body has always known it needed but could never get. You can feel every nerve rushing towards climax and just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, he pulls out, pressing the tip of his dick against your tailbone, just above the crack of your ass, and he comes, the hot liquid trickling down between your ass cheeks and your swollen lips in streams. He traces the flow with his thick fingers, up and down, making you whine in need. Finally, he grabs the towel he brought with him and wipes you off. You’re still whimpering, moving your hips all around, searching for any kind of contract. 

He gives a dark chuckle and you hear him walk away. You want to cry but he’s back in a moment, close by you. Immediately, he starts to wind a rope around your legs, soft like silk and strong. He binds your thighs to your calves, your ankles together and then he flips you over, the chain on the handcuffs pulling your arms taut. 

You could not be more vulnerable, spread open before him. He wipes his dick across your chest to remove the remaining mix of your juices. 

“I’ll bet you think you deserve to come, now, don’t you?” 

“Yes, please sir.”

“Why should I let you.”

“I’ve tried to be good for you, sir. I’ve done everything you asked. I’m sorry I lied to you before but I told you the truth after. And you just turn me on so much, sir.”

He smirks again and plants his tree trunk of a thigh on the sofa between your legs. 

“Like this,” he growls. “You want to get off? You fuck yourself on my leg like an animal who doesn’t know any better.”

Part of you wants to resist, but you’re so desperate for it that you press yourself against him and start grinding into his thigh. You can feel the powerful muscle beneath the flesh as he flexes, giving you a little more friction. It’s still slippery and the way that you’re bound makes it difficult to move the way you need to, but you’re able to make it work. 

“Are you close?” he rasps. 

“So close, sir!”

“And am I good to you, letting you cum on my leg like this?”

“Yes, thank you!”

You thrust yourself even harder against him to add just the little bit more pressure that you need, moving faster as you can feel your orgasm ready to burst through you. 

And with a nasty grin, he steps back. 

Your clit is so engorged that the sensation of air hitting it is actually painful. Although you’d like to remain composed and be angry, you just sob, tears welling up yet again. 

“Why?” you cry at him. 

“You don’t get to cum until I decide you’re ready.”

“Please, sir, I’m begging you, I need to.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He pulls his boxers back on and grabs the towel, heading towards the door. 

“Wait!” you yelp after him. “Where are you going?”

He laughs again, deep and almost demonic. “I’m a busy man. I’ve got a lot of things to do.”

“Aren’t you going to untie me?”

He smirks and throws the towel over his shoulders again. “Oh no. You’re gonna stay right there until I’m ready to use you again.”       

[wrestlersownmyheart]

His gaze was already fixed on her face as he continued toward her.  She noticed he had already removed his suit jacket and tie and had draped them over a kitchen chair. “I-I was just heating…  A-are you h-hungry,” she stuttered out.  He nodded with an intensity in his black eyes that made Ella shiver.  “It shouldn’t take long,” she prattled on.  “I just need to heat up the meatloaf and potatoes, and-” Joe was right in front of her then, and placed a finger over her lips.  A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he shook his head.  “I’m not hungry for food.

Blurb from Second Chances (Samoa Joe X OC: Ella Roberts)

[xfirespritex]

Ruin the Friendship - A Finn Balor Story

Ruin the Friendship

Prompt: First of all.... YAY!!!!! I am so happy that you're back to writing again!! I've missed you so much!!!! AND... I am dying for some Finn Balor angst smut!!! I've been listening to Demi Lovato's "Ruin The Friendship" and all I can think about is Finn. Let's say Finn and the reader have been friends for years and he starting crushing on her. But he sees her "flirting" with another superstar (Samoa Joe?) and gets jealous. They fight and don't talk for a while until she confronts him. Smut ensues.

Requested by @caramara3 I hope you love it dear! It’s a bit longer than I anticipated it being! <3

--

Tag List:

@wwesmutdonedirtcheap

@thedeboniardevistation @xxnobodyshero13xx  @speedilyghostlycloud

@fan-fiction-galore  @amaranthine-reign @lordoftheringsmyass  

@justtheaverageblog1 @alpha-american @aineslight @reigns420 @deajm2116

@redroseblackwolfpack96 @blondekel77  @shieldgirl95 @gelinas22

@vebner37 @banrioncethlenn  @moxtiel  @caramara3

@fmlallthewayup @breezy14fan @secretagentfangirl @crowleysqueenofhell

@abominablestrowman279 @laochbaineann @wrestlingnoob @logandemico

@calwitch @sleeplessandcynical @sjwrites22 @georgiadean37

@houndofjustice-imagines @squirrel666 @dorkyvillain @heeltothequeen @heelturn-timesten  @imnobodiesbitch @leteverythingexist @sonjashuterbugjohnson @serious-stressed-sparkles @andie01 @thegenericluchadora @thirstiswet @thedeboniardevistation

@wweburnitdown

--

I laughed as I leaned into Finn at the booth we sat in across from Becky Lynch and Luke, her boyfriend. Finn was laughing hard too at the joke Becky had made, his face and neck going red as he laughed. My eyes traced the blush under his skin and I knew my eyes were on him too long from the look Becky gave me when I looked back at her.

“Be right back,” Finn said, nudging me before sliding out of the booth and heading to the bathroom, a smile still on his face.

“Will you just tell him already?” Becky demanded as she leaned across the booth at me.

“No, Becky, we’ve talked about this,” I hissed, turning to make sure Finn was definitely out of ear shot.

Luke chuckled, used to this argument between us. “I think you should just tell him, Y/N,” Luke said. Picking up his drink he took a sip before continuing.  “You’re worried he doesn’t feel the same, right? How do you know he doesn’t?”

“Unless you and Finn had a heart to heart we don’t know about, stop messing with me Luke,” I said, sipping my water.

Luke sighed and looked at Becky who shrugged and leaned into her boyfriend as Finn walked back to us.

“What’d I miss?” Finn flashed his huge smile at each of us.

“Nothing, we were thinking of heading home,” Becky said.

“Already?” Finn grumbled.

“Yeah, well you know how it is, you all are on the road so much that I never get to see my girl,” Luke said, wrapping his arms around Becky. She laughed as the waitress came over and gave us our checks, splitting the bill between Luke and Becky on one and Finn and I on the other. I frowned and tried to call her back to split ours but Finn waved me off and pulled out his card.

“I got ya,” he said.

“Then I get the next dinner.”

“It’s a date,” Finn said, smiling at me. I laughed and rolled my eyes as he signed off on the receipt and we all left the restaurant. Walking out Finn and I got into my car as I had driven there to meet Becky and Luke.

“Home? Anywhere you need to stop?” I asked.

“Nah, let’s head home.”

I dropped Finn off about twenty minutes later and, as I watched him go after an awkward over the center console hug, I decided I’d have to let go of my crush. It had been going on for years and I’d watched Finn date girls and be lusted after for too long. Even though we were both single now it was clear we were perfect just as we were. As friends. I didn’t want to jeopardize that. I’d have to move on.

Just then my phone beeped, signaling I had a new text.

Joe: Hey, what are you up to?

I stared at my phone, smiling to myself. Samoa Joe. Always good for conversation and hilarious to hang out with. It was only seven at night and, in the spirit of enjoying myself I decided to text him back.

Y/N: Hey Joe. Just dropped Finn off, was gonna head home. What’d you have in mind?

Joe responded with the name of a local bar a bunch of us often frequented that had pool tables, foosball tables and dart board galore. I said I could be there in fifteen minutes and he sent back a smile.

Glancing at Finn’s home I felt my heart ache a little at the thought of finally trying to let him go but I knew that the first step to that was not letting it ruin my life. So, off to the bar I went.

--

“Y/N, come on, one more game,” Joe said, holding the pool stick in his large hands, a slow smirk on his face.

“Joe, the place is closing soon, we might not finish the game in time.”

He sighed, looking around at the place as the workers were wiping tables and upturning chairs, cleaning up. There were only a few other patrons there.

“Fine. I expect to be back here soon though, you owe me at least one more game of pool.”

“You’re just mad that I am up by one game,” I said.

Joe smirked as we put the sticks away, his eyes locked on me. “Not for long.”

--

 About a week later, once we were all back in Florida once more, I jumped as a pair of arms came around my waist. Joe.

“Jumpy much?” he asked.

I laughed and turned to face him, not missing the fact that he kept his arms around me as I did so. I put my hands on his chest for balance and felt a slight blush creeping up the back of my neck at our proximity.

“When large arms that could squeeze the life out of me come around me I think the situation calls for me to be jumpy.”

“I’d never hurt you,” Joe said, a small smile on his lips as he looked down at me.

I smiled back but jumped as a door on the far side of the room slammed open and someone stalked out of it. I saw the shape of the person and knew it immediately. It was Finn.

I looked at Joe who quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. I stepped back out of his embrace and looked towards the doors. “I’m gonna go check on him, I’ll be back,” I promised to Joe.

He nodded, looking a little disappointed as I walked away.

I rushed across the room and through the doors, looking around until I heard a frustrated grunt that could only be Finn. Following the sound down the hallway I rounded the corner and found him standing with his back to me, tense muscles as he gestured with his arms and mumbled under his breath.

“Finn?” I said, my voice soft.

He spun quickly, anger in his eyes. “What?” He snapped.

I frowned, trying to ignore the sting that caused. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“What’s wrong is you’re in my face right now,” he spat.

Okay.

That more than stung. That out right hurt.

“What the hell did I do?” I asked.

“Just, forget it, okay? Go back, alright. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. It’s not like you to storm out of workouts. Or snap at people like that.”

“Maybe I just want to be left alone for fuck’s sake!”

I blinked a couple times, stepping back from him a few paces.

Silence hung in the air between us and I could see the shame quickly taking over his face. I didn’t care though.

“No problem. Be alone,” I said, turning and heading back inside. I heard him call my name once but ignored him, fighting off the angry tears that had begun to burn in my eyes.

As I walked through the gym another voice called out my name. Hurriedly I brushed at my eyes, trying to wipe away the evidence but as Joe caught up to me I knew it was no use.

“What happened?” he asked, a spark of anger to his voice.

“Nothing, Finn and I just had an argument, it’s okay. We’ll make up later.”

Joe frowned and placed his hands on my shoulders. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, since our workouts are done for the day I think someone owes me a game of pool, you up for it?”

I sniffed once and nodded up at Joe. “Yeah, sounds good.”

--

A week passed and Finn hadn’t reached out. My anger faded to sadness then acceptance. I just had to let it go. Clearly our friendship wasn’t as good as I had thought it was and maybe now that I was trying to move on from my crush I could move on from that too.

As I tugged on the strap to my red dress, making it sit correctly on my shoulder I turned to look at the back of my dress in the mirror. Every inch of fabric was hugging my shape perfectly. My tall black heels made my legs look longer than normal given the shorter skirt.

I wondered briefly what Finn would think of my outfit but then my mind shifted to what Joe might think of it.

I couldn’t deny that Joe’s attention was great and he was handsome, without a doubt. However, I knew deep down that the spark I needed wasn’t there. I could tell Joe knew it too, no matter what his attentions had started as, his flirtatious nature had faded slightly and I was grateful for it. As handsome and fun as he was I didn’t feel toward Joe would I should.

Shaking my head and checking my hair once more I grabbed my bag and jacket and headed downstairs and out the door, getting into my car and plugging the address into my GPS.

Luke had asked everyone to come out as an early birthday party since we’d all be on tours, working house shows and doing press around his actual birthday. With the lounge address pulled up and directions pointing the way I decided to leave all my romantic drama behind tonight and celebrate Luke who had always been a friend and always been good to me.

Walking into the lounge/restaurant it was easy to find the group of wrestlers. We were a huge group after all, filled with larger than life people both physically and figuratively as most of us had over the top personalities to compensate for smaller statures.

As I walked up Luke saw me and let out a yell.

“Y/N! You’re here! You came!”

I laughed. “Of course I did! Couldn’t miss this,” I said, walking over and hugging him tightly. I squealed as he spun me once in his embrace before setting me down carefully back on my heels.

“Well damn,” came the voice of Karl Anderson, who slid in next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders in a half hug. “Who did you dress up for tonight?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Myself,” I responded, winking.

Karl and Luke howled their agreement at my answer and I was passed a glass of champagne. As more guests arrived I moved around the room, talking with my fellow superstars until I spotted Finn who was sitting on a couch. He was talking to Bayley but his heart wasn’t in it. His smile was halfhearted and his eyes kept flicking around the room. When our eyes met I nodded at him once and he nodded in return. It was the most contact we’d had since our argument.

“You trying to stop traffic or just someone’s heart in that dress?” Came Becky’s voice.

I turned around and laughed, hugging her hello before kissing Luke on the cheek. “It was the only thing I haven’t worn recently,” I explained.

“Yeah, yeah,” Becky chided. Luke walked off to get them drinks and Becky pulled me close to her so I could hear her. “Be honest. Is that dress for Joe or Finn?”

I sighed. “It’s for me. Finn and I haven’t talked in weeks. Joe and I…it’s just not there. We’re friends, he’s flirty but…”

“But it’s not right,” she finished for me. I nodded. “Does he know that?”

“Considering he’s got an arm around some blonde right now and she’s practically crawling into his lap, yeah, I think he knows,” I said, laughing. I wasn’t even hurt by the sight. Joe’s eyes met mine and I winked my approval at him. He laughed and raised his glass to me and I raised my champagne in response.

I laughed and Becky let out a laugh too, a smile on her face. “That oughta cheer Finn up!”

I quirked an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”

Just then Luke came over and gave Becky a drink and she took a big gulp of it.

“Becky…” I said, my voice low.

“Hey! Charlotte’s here! Let’s go!” she said, practically running away from me and to the safety of Charlotte. I sighed and followed, knowing she wouldn’t explain here and now. I made a mental note to harass her about it tomorrow. Still, when I next looked at Finn he did seem happier, still talking to Bayley, still with the same drink in his hand and still sitting where he was but much happier.

I frowned in confusion but went to talk with the girls and enjoy the celebration for Luke. It was, after all, his party.

--

As the night wound down I looked around and spotted Finn, finally standing alone and I took a breath, deciding I was over this silent treatment.

I walked over to him and, trying to act natural, bumped my hip against his in greeting.

“Hey there,” I said.

“Hey,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips but it faded quickly as his eyes danced over my shape. He took a sip of his drink as his eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape.

“So, still not gonna talk to me, huh?” I asked.

He frowned and turned to look at me, his body lining up with mine. “What?” he asked.

“You haven’t said a word to me since you bit my head off. I was going to try and bury the hatchet but I’m not even near you for five seconds and you’re looking to run away from me. What the hell, Finn?”

He looked around for a minute, at all of our friends around us and sighed, grabbing my hand and pulling me out onto the patio space, releasing me so he could turn and shut the double doors that lead outside. The noise of the party inside instantly faded and I crossed my arms as I looked at him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, okay I just…” Finn sighed and hung his head. He fell silent and paced a few steps in each direction before stopping and taking a deep breath. He raised his eyes to me and I felt my heart skip at the fire in his blue eyes.

“You what, Finn? You stalk out and I go check on you only to have my head bitten off and then you don’t even reach out to me. So what excuse could you possibly have to treat me like that?”

“Because I was jealous!”

I stared at him, his words ringing in my ears. We were the only people on the patio and I was grateful for it as I watched his face heat up and his chest rise and fall against the tight fabric of his shirt. I bit my lip as my eyes traveled over his form, black pants and a dark gray button up shirt fitting him perfectly and I felt his eyes traveling over my form as well but I did my best to shake it off.

“Why were you jealous?” I asked.

“Because I saw you and Joe.”

“Saw us what?”

“He had his fucking arms around you,” Finn said, taking a few steps closer to me, his hands raising in the air as if he wanted to grab me but he held back, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth for a moment before speaking. “He had his arms around you and you were leaning into him, your hands on his chest and I thought that I’d missed my chance. I thought I’d waited too long.”

“What do mean?” I asked, confusion slowly taking the place of my anger.

“You really couldn’t see it?” he asked.

“See what?”

Finn sighed and ran his hands over his face before looking around, his eyes finding the shapes of our friends through the glass doors before he looked back at me.

“Can we please…just, not here? Please?” he asked. I frowned. Finn looked frustrated but he also looked uncertain. The anger that had been coursing through him moments ago seemed to be replaced by his own uncertainty.

“Where?”

“My place is closer.”

I sighed. “I’ll get my bag. Let’s go say goodbye to Luke.”

Finn nodded and we walked back into the party. I grabbed my bag and said goodbye quickly to my friends, kissing Luke’s cheek before heading out to my car, Finn only a few steps behind me.

The car ride was silent. The radio off and my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly I pulled into Finn’s driveway and followed his lead as he got out of the car and headed inside. Gathering what little nerve I had left I got out of the car, fixed my dress and headed inside, closing the front door behind me.

Walking into Finn’s living room I saw him standing by the fireplace, staring at the pictures on the mantle.

“When did everything get so fucked up, Y/N?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked, walking over and looking at the pictures there too. Group photos but also pictures of Finn’s family. Next to the one of his entire family at their last reunion, from when he was injured, was one of Finn and I when I’d visited him in Ireland around the same time. I’d gone out there to see my friend, meet his family and see the beautiful country he called home. I’d hoped back then he’d see that if I was willing to fly that far for him that I might be worth looking at as more than a friend but time had moved on and nothing had changed.

“When did being in this business, having the amazing friends that we do get so fucking complicated? When did being friends with someone start…hurting?”

I stared at him. “What are you talking about, Finn?”

“It hurt. Seeing his arms around you that day,” Finn said, his voice softer now, quieter. Like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say the words.

It clicked then, what Finn was trying to say. Because I’d felt it too.

“Like when I saw you at the hall of fame with…whatever her name was.” I knew her name, of course, I was just afraid he’d hear the hatred in my voice if I said it out loud.

“What?” he asked.

“You said it hurt seeing me with Joe. How do you think I felt when I saw you with her? Or any of the other girls? We’ve been friends for nearly six years Finn and every time it’s been harder and harder to watch you with them.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You tell me why it hurt to see me with Joe.” Please. Please tell me.

He stepped closer to me, barely an inch of space between us. His hands came up my shoulders, resting there for a moment before, his fingertips dancing over my exposed skin, the strap on my left shoulder sliding off as his fingers caressed the skin there. I could feel myself starting to shake but kept my eyes on his.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

When his lips crashed onto mine I couldn’t contain the moan that escaped me and in response his hands gripped me to him, one burying itself in my hair, the other snaking around me to pull me flush against him. My hands shot up around his neck, my nails dragging along the back of his neck and into his hairline. He shivered and let out a small groan as the kiss broke, his eyes, blown out and darker now, raking over my face.

“I love you too,” I said, my voice shaking slightly.

“Yeah?” Finn said, his voice gaining some of the usual humor as both hands rested on my hips.

“Yeah,” I said, running my hands down his chest, fingers sliding over the buttons of his shirt but not undoing them.

Finn let out a breath, his hands running up and down my sides now. When our eyes met again the normal spark was there again in his blue orbs.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to hold you like this?” he asked.

I smiled up at him. “How long?”

“Years,” he sighed, one hand sliding around to my lower back, his fingers dancing over the fabric of the dress.

“You sure it’s not just this dress changing your memories?” I teased.

He groaned and tightened his grip on me and I could feel his length through his pants as we were pressed tightly together.  I gasped softly.

“This dress isn’t the cause of it, no, but you nearly fucking killed me when you walked through the door in this earlier,” he said, his lips ghosting over mine, tempting me.

“Yeah? How do you think it is for me when you walk around in shirts like this? Tight across your chest, tucked in so everyone can see how flat and perfect your body is,” I said, running my hands down over his abdomen over the top of the shirt.

Finn smirked and brushed his lips over mine.

“So what are we going to do about this situation, hmm?” he said, one hand coming up to brush the hair out of my face.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Finn licked his lips quickly, pulling back to look at my face a little better. “I mean, do I get to call you my girlfriend? Finally?”

I smiled and nodded at him, feeling my heart swell. His own smile broke over his face and he reached down, tightly wrapping his arms around my wrist and hugging me to him, lifting me and spinning once, slowly.

When he set me down I kept my arms around his neck as I looked up at him. His hands fell to my sides and he rubbed up and down them slowly as he pressed his forehead to mine.

I ran my hands up into his hair again and pressed our heads together more, biting my lower lip.

“What is it love?” he asked.

“I need you,” I whispered.

A smile took over his face and his hands slid around to my back, pulling me flush against him. “Yeah?” he whispered, bringing his lips to mine, letting them brush against my own as he spoke. “Need me to do what?”

“Whatever you want with me,” I whispered back.

Finn let out a growl and his hands slid down to my ass, lifting me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he turned, walking towards the stairs and carrying me easily up them, his eyes on me as he moved.

“You’re sure about this?” He asked as he set me down in his room. I looked up at him and bit my lower lip. Six years of friendship, of love, stood in front of me. I had wanted this man for so long that I never thought it would happen. Now that it was I was a little scared. What would happen to our friendship?

As if reading my mind Finn wrapped his arms around me and leaned down, his eyes locked on mine.

“You’re worried about something, what is it?”

“I didn’t think we’d ever get here. Now I just…I want this but what about our friendship? What if this ruins it?”

Finn brought one hand up to my face and cupped my cheek gently, his thumb running along my cheek and just under my eye softly.

“I don’t know, love. I’m not going to lie and say I know everything will be alright because we don’t know that for sure but you know what I do know?”

“What?” I asked.

“I have never been so in love with someone. And maybe it’s because you’re my best friend. But isn’t that what love is supposed to be? Aren’t you supposed to be in love with your best friend?”

I nodded, my heart still beating quickly.

“So, since we’re already best friends, since we know the good and the bad about each other I think it will be worth it. I think if having you as my girlfriend, having you in my life in that way is risking ruining our friendship it’s worth it. I never want to lose you but I know I can’t go forward without you as my girl now. I can’t wake up tomorrow and pretend like I’ve never kissed you, never held you. So, I’m willing to risk it if it means I never have to be without you again. If it means I get to have you as mine. If you’re not ready to risk it though, if that’s what is holding you back, I don’t want to force you to change your mind but I think everything is worth risking on this. For chance at really finding the person you’re meant to be with.”

“You think so?” I asked, my voice soft and shaky as my eyes stung with unshed tears at his sweet, loving words.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re worth the risk. I think we’re worth the risk. Please, Y/N, I am so in love with you.”

I tilted my head up and kissed him once, softly before pulling back. My lips brushed his as I spoke.

“Let’s ruin the friendship,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Finn’s mouth split into a smile before he captured my lips in his, his arms coming around me tightly and holding me against him. As we kissed he backed me up until my legs reached his bed. Pulling out of the kiss Finn motioned for me to sit and he kneeled in front of me, his hands going to my legs, sliding down to the ankle straps of my heels.

He undid them slowly and his eyes met mine as he tugged the shoes off, his fingers dancing along the tops of my feet and up my leg. I watched him, a smirk coming to his face as we locked eyes.

“You know, this dress really is dangerous,” he said, letting his hands run along the hemline of my dress which had ridden up slightly towards the top of my thighs.

“How is it dangerous?” I asked, smirking down at him.

His smirk grew and he reached one hand up, cupping the back of my neck so he could tug me closer to him, his lips pressed against my ear as his other hand slid under my dress, close to my core.

“Because all I could think about was pinning you to a wall and licking my way up these legs of yours,” he growled into my ear, making me gasp. Excitement pooled between my legs and I shivered as his fingers brushed along the edge of my panties and I could feel his smirk grow.

“Lace?” he whispered, one finger hooking in the waistband.

I nodded. “Yes,” I said.

“Were you hoping someone would see them?” he asked, the finger unhooking from them and sliding down over the front of them until he reached the area that was slightly damp. He sighed when he felt it and I felt my legs clench slightly, hoping for more friction.

“So excited for me already?” he whispered, looking up at me.

“Mhm,” was all I could mumble. The site of Finn, kneeling in between my legs in front of me was becoming too much, the devilish grin on his face combined with his bright blue eyes was turning me on more than I thought possible.

Finn kissed me quickly before sitting back on his heels and releasing my neck. I sat back slightly to watch him and gasped when both hands ran over my thighs, bunching the fabric of the dress up a little more. He lowered his head, eyes still on mine as he brought his lips to my right thigh, kissing lightly before his teeth grazed the skin and his tongue followed.

I whimpered as he continued to do this, over and over until I was sure I would come from this alone. Finally he looked up at me and quirked an eyebrow, an unspoken question. I swallowed and nodded and Finn stood slowly, taking my hand and helping me stand despite how unstable my legs felt after his ministrations.

He turned me slowly and his fingers found the back of my dress, unzipping it slowly and pushing it from my body. My strapless bra was next and once it had fallen from my body his hands came from behind me, sliding over my torso slowly before coming up and cupping my breasts gently as his lips came to the back of my neck.

I let out a soft moan and leaned back against him, feeling his length against me and I sighed, my head falling forward for a moment.

“Finn,” I whispered, turning to face him slowly. His hands fell to my waist, teasing the top of my panties as I faced him.

“Yes?” he asked, his head turning slightly.

My fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt quickly and I began to kiss the skin beneath as it was exposed to me, tugging it from his pants. Pushing the fabric from his shoulders I kissed along the skin of his chest, my hands running down over his abdomen and to the top of his pants, my fingers finding the buckle of his belt and his button. Undoing both quickly I looked at him as I lowered the zipper slowly, my hand running along the bulge there.

Finn stepped out of the pants carefully and one hand came around to rest on my lower back, keeping me close to him. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled before kissing me. I returned the kiss with fervor, letting my hands tease along his skin, thrilled at every twitch and shiver it sent through his body.

Finn backed me up carefully and laid me down gently on his bed. His hands captured my face in between them and he kissed me gently before they began to travel down my body. Soon my panties were gone, as were his boxers, and I could feel the tenseness in his muscles as he resisted pressing into me immediately. Instead, he kissed along my neck and chest, making me whimper and whisper his name. I could feel the need in me growing so I grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him up to me.

“Please, Finn,” I whispered. He nodded once and kissed me as he lined himself up at my entrance before pressing into me slowly. I gripped him to me tightly, gasping as he filled me. Once fully inside me he stilled, giving me a chance to adjust. He was gritting his teeth and breathing quickly and I took his face in my hands.

“Okay?” I asked.

He laughed and nodded once, his eyes traveling down out bodies to where we were joined before coming back to meet my face.

“You feel so fucking good, I’m just trying to not lose it already,” he said, chuckling lightly. I smiled and rotated my hips once and we both gasped at the feeling.

Catching on Finn began thrusting into me slowly, pulling out most of the way before sliding back in, and his body covering mine as our hips met. I gasped at each movement that set my nerve endings on fire and I moaned his name as he began going harder and faster.

I could feel my orgasm approaching quickly and I pulling him into a kiss, desperate to feel his lips against mine as I came. When my orgasm ripped through me Finn’s hand held my body tight to his as I shook, our lips and tongues battling each other as I gasped and cried out. He continued to thrust until his own release took over. We laid there, beside each other, gasping for air.

Finn pulled me until I was laying across his chest and I could feel sleep tugging at me. Finn chuckled and brushed hair from my eyes as I looked up at him to see what was funny.

“You said I could do whatever I want with you,” he whispered.

“And?” I asked.

“That was just round one, if you’re tired now I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep up,” he said, the devilish smirk back on his face.

Propping myself up on my elbow as I looked at him I smirked.

“Yeah? Okay, round two then,” I said.

“Yeah?” Finn asked, my sudden energy surprising him.

I smirked as I threw one leg over him and straddled him, feeling his hands slide along my legs to my hips.

“You, my friend, have no idea the challenge you just set,” I said, smirking down at him. Finn smirked up at me.

“Can’t wait to find out,” he said as his lips captured mine.

[d2kvirus]

30/10/19 Fact or Fiction

Statement #1: The WWE has done a good job of making their fights look realistic. FICTION - Some companies can make their brawls look realistic, for example the pull-apart brawls Samoa Joe had with Kurt Angle and Takeshi Morishima in TNA and ROH respectively both looked realistic (and also happened in around the same timeframe) - but the fights WWE put on not only don't look realistic, but their awful camerawork makes them look as bad as the endless jump cuts that Marvel call action scenes

Statement #2: With so many fans and critics using their own standards to give star ratings to matches, a 5-star (or above) match from anyone, including Dave Meltzer, is now meaningless. FICTION - While there's a hell of a lot about Meltzer's reporting that deserves the criticism it gets these days from anyone whose online handle isn't the name Trevor spelled backwards, getting a five-star rating from him still carries a lot of weight...although it does have to be said that Meltzer is diluting that accolade given so far this year he's handed out twenty, and he handed out less than that combined between 2000-15

Statement #3: If you were offered $50,000 US, first class accommodations and flights to travel to the next WWE Saudi Arabian PPV event to be part of an “authentic Western audience”, you would take it. FICTION - Can I have a beer as I'm sat in the audience? Then no, I'm not part of an "authentic western audience" - and even worse, I'll be at a show that I will definitely need a couple of drinks to get through given how shambolic the last few RiyadahMania shows have been, yet won't be able to have one. Now if you handed me the $50k to feel depressed by attending all three of ROH's shows during their UK tour last weekend...

Statement #4: You believe that a good wrestler should always beat a good boxer, and therefore Braun Strowman MUST defeat Tyson Fury at Crown Jewel. FICTION - While I do believe that Strowman needs to beat Fury, that has less to do with thinking wrestlers should go over boxers on principle (because...what?) and more to do with Braun needing to actually win one of his big matches at some point as he's been consistently booked to be WWE's largest choke artist

Statement #5: The pro-wrestling match between Brock Lesnar and Cain Velasquez at Crown Jewel will be more exciting and entertaining than their UFC Heavyweight Championship match in 2010. FICTION - I'm going to guess that the Lesnar/Velasquez match in UFC had something known as "wrestling" in it, rather than the usual German suplex spam that stopped being interesting about four years ago

https://411mania.com/wrestling/411-wrestling-fact-or-fiction-will-crown-jewel-be-an-exciting-event/

[wwelivestream247]

WWE SmackDown Live WTF Moments (11 September) | Samoa Joe Fan Fiction, Becky Lynch Cosplay Queen

WWE SmackDown Live WTF Moments (11 September) | Samoa Joe Fan Fiction, Becky Lynch Cosplay Queen

Click Here to See WWE Live Stream Event (SmackDown) Ross is back with all the WTF Moments from WWE SmackDown Live!

WWE SmackDown Live Results/Highlights: Jeff Sturdy d. Shinsuke Nakamura through DQ Charlotte Flair deb. Sonya Deville Rusev and Aiden English d. Cesaro & Sheamus Andrade ‘Cien’ Almas d. R-Truth Briek?se Bella d. Maryse through DQ

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[infinityknight25]

Lucha Underground: An Extreme Uprising part 1 (fiction)

Scene: Night time outside the Temple. A group of fancy, black generic rental cars pull up out front. The right rear door opens on the first car but you don’t see who gets out.

Scene: Dario Cueto’s office. Dario is sitting at his desk going over paperwork. He hears a throat clearing come from the other side of the desk. He looks up to see Paul Heyman accompanied by Samoa Joe, Rob Van Dam, Sabu, Raven, Bubba Ray Dudley, D'Von Dudley, Spike Dudley, and CM Punk.

Heyman: If you’ll excuse me but I think you are sitting in my chair.

Dario: You have some nerve coming in my building and….(Heyman cuts him off)

Heyman: See that’s where your wrong. Apparently your accounting department hasn’t kept up with the bills and the bank put it up for sale. I have REALLY good lawyers and they helped me pickup this….. warehouse

Dario: Well I will move out immediately.

Heyman: Oh no you will do no such thing. You see the temple is mine Dario. The temple is about to get an extreme makeover.

Matanza walks in the room. Heyman looks back at him. Cueto smiles.

Dario: Are you sure this is the road you want to go down? Catrina: Lest you forget Cueto. The temple belongs to US. Catrina and Mil Muertes walk into the room. Heyman: Hmm seems only my monster is missing. Brock Lesnar walks in the door way and leans up against the frame with a cocky smile. Heyman: My monster. My beast needs no introduction. So since you both think your monster’s can hold their own against mine. Well how about the second match on the card is a three way dance to face Pentagon Dark for the Lucha Underground championship. And under MY rule of the temple. All matches are no disqualification. Now if you excuse me I have to go see my loyal subjects.

Scene: Ringside in the temple. Fans are cheering and making lots of noise. Vampiro and Mat Striker are at the commentary table. Striker: Welcome back everyone to Lucha Undergound. It’s going to be a night of surprises. Just a few moments ago we were all notified the previous plans for this evening’s event were scratched and we would be notified at the top of the show as to what is going on. Vamp you have any ideas? Vampiro: Man I’ve been in the business along time and changes can mean many things. They all come down to one thing though and its good for some and bad for others. Hopefully it’s good for us. Heyman’s music hits and he starts coming out on the top floor behind the crowd much like the wrestlers do. He is followed by Brock Lesnar , Samoa Joe, CM Punk and Rob Van Dam. Vampiro: What the heck is he doing here? Striker: Can this be? THE Paul Heyman is in the temple? Vampiro: It sure looks that way and he is NOT alone. That’s some pretty good company that is coming down the stairs with him bro. Heyman get in the ring and is handed a mic. Heyman: (typical snotty tone) Ladies and Gentlemen…… I don’t need an introduction, you already know who I am and what I’m all about. (Points at the wrestlers) You know who they are and what THEY are ALL about. What you do need to know is that one Dario Cueto is no longer in charge here at Lucha Underground but yours truly most definitely is. I have big things set ahead for Lucha Underground. Things that are going to shake it up. More titles to come in the future? Perhaps. You will definitely see many many new faces. You will see luchadors square off with submission skilled athletes, hardcore brawlers, (Points at Lesnar and increases volume ) monstrous powerhouses! You will see many ethnicities here! Legends that made you gush in yesteryear and superstars of tomorrow that will have you talking at your water cooler of your pointless nine to five the next morning. Ladies and Gentlemen I AM Paul Heyman and this is MY Lucha Underground. Tonight you will see two of your prized monster’s take on my beast. THE Brrrrock Lllllesnar in a three way dance. Winner will then face Pentagon Dark for the Lucha Underground championship. But first your trios champions will face the Dudley boys in a tables match for the titles. You do not lose being put through a table. Pinfalls and submissions do count. The trios champions (Dante Fox, Killshot, and Mack) start coming out to the ring looking very flustered and are voicing their opinion and showing distaste as they approach the ring. The Dudleys music comes on and Bubba comes out in front of D'Von and Spike. Bubba is hyping the crowd up while the other two are carrying two tables. Vampiro: I don’t believe it. Tag Team royalty has just stepped into the temple. These guys have made so much wrestling history and I’m sure tonight won’t be any different. Striker: I wouldn’t doubt it bro. These Dudleys know two things very well. That’s tag team wrestling and tables. The three Dudleys get in the ring and line up across from the trios champions. Bubba across from Mack. Spike and killshot in the middle of the lineup. D'Von and Dante on the other side. Inaudible smack talk begins between the six. Vampiro: There’s another thing these guys are very good at and that is talking smack. They can get under even a seasoned veteran’s skin. Bubba spits chew on Mack’s boot. Mack stops talking and looks down at his boot. Everyone else stops and looks down at his boot. Bubba smiles. Mack throws a punch at the same time Bubba does as well. Striker: Oh man! Bubba Ray trying to get things started off on the wrong foot! Vampiro: That’s Bubba for you. These Dudleys can get away with things like that cause they’ve been around so long. They can be cocky. It doesn’t help that they are all buddy buddy with Paul Heyman. The group gets split up Bubba and Mack fight in one corner while Spike is being beaten by Killshot in the middle of the ring. D'Von and Dante trade punches back and forth outside. Dante tries to Irish whip D'Von into a barricade but D'Von counters. Spike gets tossed from the ring onto D'Von by Killshot. Vampiro: Man this is a great way to start things off in the temple. There is no doubt that Heyman can provide great violence….Almost as good as his lies and treachery. Striker: What’s your problem with him huh? He’s done so much good for the industry. He helped make… Vampiro: Blah blah blah. Look you can say whatever you want. I don’t like how he does things. I see it only spelling disaster for the Temple. The Dudleys turn the match around to their favor they are all inside the ring and Bubba smacks D'Von on the chest. Bubba: D'Von!!! D'Von looks at the crowd to hype them up. Bubba: Get the tables!! Vampiro: Matt, pain and anguish are about to beset the trios champions right here in the temple. Striker: When the Dudleys go for the tables it is certain that something EXTREME is about to happen. Vampiro: Would you quit with the stupid plugs for these lame punks man? I’m getting sick of it. They haven’t even been here a whole day and I can’t stand them. D'Von is grabbing a table from ringside while Bubba Ray punches on killshot while Spike rolls Dante outside the ring. D'Von comes back inside the ring with a table. He sets it up in the middle of the ring. Bubba whips Killshot to the ropes setting him up for the 3d. Mack baseball slides the table out of the way and Killshot lands on top of Mack. Striker: An incredible save by Mack to keep Killshot from the first to be put through a table. Vampiro: That was a heck of a sacrifice brother. Bubba Ray gets pulled out of the ring by Dante who begins punching Bubba. Bubba finally blocks a punch and tries to counter but Dante blocks it and catches Bubba with a punch who is now stunned. Dante jumped up and hurracanranaed Bubba Ray through a table on the outside. Vampiro: Boom! Dante putting one of the Dudleys through a table first. Score one for an LU original. Striker: I see what you did there. Killshot has Spike in an arm bar on the mat. D'Von comes over and breaks it up with a stomp. As he turns around Mack tries to tackle D'Von through a table that had now been setup in a corner. D'Von rolls out of the ring to avoid Mack. Mack goes through the table. D'Von and Dante start trading punches. Killshot comes flying from the ring. D'Von moves out of the way of the attack. Killshot ends up cross bodying Dante through a table. Striker: Oh man! The action never stops here in the temple! Spike tries to sneak a pin in the ring. Referee gets to two before Mack kicks out. Vampiro: Props to lil Spike for trying to bring the match to a quick close. What’s this?! Brother check it out! Mack picks Spike up off his chest from the pin into a over head press and throws into Spike into a table on the out outside. Striker: And yet again someone has fallen victim to a table! Vampiro: These guys are leaving it all in the ring….. well and outside the ring too. D'Von and Bubba begin double teaming Mack while the other three lay in broken tables. D'Von and Bubba do a double clothes line. Bubba inaudibly tells D'Von to get a table setup in the ring. Bubba goes back to work punching Mack while he lays on the ground. Vampiro: Here we go again man. The champs may be in trouble. Striker: They may be indeed as Bubba rolls Mack in the ring. Who is now being stomped by D'Von. Bubba throws Mack to the ropes and sets up the 3D. Striker: Here it comes! The 3D!!!! Mack welcome to extreme tag team wrestling. Vampiro: I hate to say it but at it’s finest my brother. These Dudleys man, they are hard to beat in a tag team match we may be seeing the end right here. Bubba goes for the pin. At one D'Von starts brawling with Killshot who was trying to break the pin. Dante breaks the count. Bubba and Dante begin exchanging blows. Bubba knocks Dante over the top rope. Striker: Again taking the fight to the outside. Vampiro: You can’t win this thing from the outside but if you have confidence in your partners. Isolating an opponent could prove to be a great strategy. Spike makes his way in the ring and begins fighting with Killshot again. Mack and D'Von are fighting in a corner on the other side of the . Striker: There’s so much action in this trios match it’s hard to keep your eye on everything. Vampiro: It may be important to note that Dante and Bubba Ray are fighting in the crowd now. Striker: They appear to be heading for the top of the office area. Spike and Killshot are fighting on the apron. Oh my gosh! Dudley dog through a table on the outside. An excellent use of the apron and the ropes leading to a big move on the outside. Vampiro: Man this is great. All these guys keep pushing themselves and each other. Hey look look. Dante is on the edge of the office. A table below. Bubba punching away. Dante is dazed.This could be it Matt. Dante suddenly appears to have his senses back and shoves Bubba’s arms to side and hurrcanranas Bubba off the roof through the table down below. Vampiro: Wow! That there Matt will be a move for the ages. Striker: No doubt a move that could turn the tide but Dante appears to be so tired that he has fallen down on the roof of the office. Back in the ring ANOTHER table has been setup in the ring. Mack on the shoulders of D'Von. Spike on the top rope. Boom! Dudleyville Device!!!! Vampiro: Through a table too man. This match has been gold from the start. Striker: And it would appear we are at the end as the brothers Spike and D'Von do a double team pin locking each others arms over Mack. One! Two! Three! New champs! Vampiro: I gotta say they earned it brother. What a match. I may have my issues with some of the new talent but dude this match was off the hook. Announcer: Your new Trios champions the Dudley Boyz! Scene: A dark anonymous locker room. Mil Muertes sits on a stool, looking at his fist. Catrina standing in the center of the room facing Muertes. Smelling a black rose. Catrina: (sounds pleased)mmmmm. Two more souls are laid at your Mil. And tonight. Heyman clears his throat and appears in the door way of the locker room. He proceeds in uninvited. Heyman: Now this is something I know all to well. I’ve spent alot and I mean ALOT of time in the company of the devil….. well in your case a cheap knock of the devil. Maybe a demon at best. You see my beast has been proven time after time after time. You see my monster. MY demon WILL lay waste to yours and when he’s done. He will rule over the temple in a way that over shadow Mil Muertes. He will be forgotten. He will be run out of this temple for being a fraud. Catrina stands tall. Almost defiant. There’s another in the room now behind Heyman. Pentagon: (in spanish)You have so much faith in Lesnar but does he have zero fear? Yes I will be out sized in the main event tonight but who ever steps in the ring with me will see me Pentagon Dark as a man who is pure zero fear. I’m not losing my belt tonight. (Brandishes belt) Heyman: Its noted Mister Pentagon and its good to be confident in yourself but remember there is such a thing as over confidence.

[thlayli-ra]

Stray (epilogue)

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Samoa Joe

Pairing - CM Punk/Drew McIntyre, CM Punk/Samoa Joe (past)

AU - Stray AU

Rating - Mature

Warnings - None

Words - ~2,500 words

Summary - New beginnings

Punk stared up at the blue sky above as another plane took off, the roar of its engine booming against his ears. His heart thrummed as noisily in his chest and he began to gnaw on his bottom lip.

Damn, he didn't expect the nerves to start this early.

'Is this it?' Punk was startled from his musings by Joe's voice behind him. His ex was pulling a small suitcase out of his trunk.

'That's it,' he replied, taking the suitcase from Joe when he noticed the reproachful look in his ex's eye. 'I travel light.'

'That's not 'light',' Joe corrected, 'that's practically empty'.

'I'm not going into the middle of the jungle,' Punk said with a shrug. 'I can buy whatever I need when I get there.'

'True,' Joe admitted then put on his old, familiar 'Mom' tone. 'Did you pack warm clothes?'

'Yes,' Punk said with a fond roll of his eyes.

'Plenty of socks?'

'Yes.'

'Underwear?'

'Don't wear any.' He tried to keep his poker face but Joe's brow deepened and he couldn't hold it. 'Yes.'

'Euros?'

'They actually use pounds over there,' Punk relished in the chance to correct his ex's world knowledge for once with a smug grin. 'And yes. But I've got credit cards too.'

'What about-'

'Joe,' he put his hand on the larger man's shoulder and looked him in the eye, 'I'm telling you. I'm good.'

'Ok, ok,' Joe shut the trunk and the pair of them began to walk towards the airport. 'Still can't believe you're fucking doing this.'

'Neither can I.' Punk looked up as another airplane took off and dragged in a stuttering breath. He changed the subject quickly. 'So how's your packing going?'

'Last of it will be shipped off on Friday,' he replied.

'That was fast,' Punk noted.

'Yeah, well, most of it was boxed already,' Joe rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 'And with you leaving town, I didn't see any reason to stick around.'

'Guess not,' Punk's shoulders slumped. 'I'm... gonna miss you.'

'Hey, I'll only be in SoCal,' Joe said. 'You know you can visit any time. Larry too!' Punk stiffened, biting down on his bottom lip. 'You wish he was coming with you today, don't you?'

'So bad,' Punk admitted.

'It'll only be for a week or two. Once you're settled in Anyway, I'm sure he'll be having a great time getting spoiled rotten by his Aunty AJ.'

'He's gonna be three times the size the way she keeps feeding him,' Punk groaned, finding it harder to keep on his straight face. By now, they'd arrived at the airport doors and he stopped in his tracks amongst the hustle and bustle of travellers rushing in and out of the sliding portal into the cavernous building beyond. 'What time is it?'

'2.16,' Joe replied.

'Shit, we're early! My flight's not for hours!'

'I'm the one who drove you here,' Joe scoffed. 'Of course you're early.'

The doors opened wide before him. Punk caught a glimpse of flashing boards and desks and queues and baggage racks and felt a fresh wave of panic!

'You wanna... go grab a coffee?' he asked Joe, suddenly.

The larger man mulled it over. But only for a second or two. 'Sure, I'd like that.'

Punk was staring out the coffee shop window, chewing on his thumbnail when Joe came back from the counter with their order; two large cups of coffee and a piece of pie. 'This to share?' Punk's eyes lit up at the sweet treat.

'Course not,' Joe shook his head wryly. 'It's all yours. A little 'farewell treat' from me.'

'Oh, well, thank you,' Punk replied and plunged his fork straight in.

'How's the hand doing?' Joe said, observing it cautiously, like it might burst into flames any second.

'Good.' Punk wiggled his fingers. Two of them moved more sluggishly than the others. 'Lost some of the range of movement in them but it shouldn't affect things too much.'

'Hmm,' Joe knew what that meant. 'Still eyeing up that one final run, huh?'

The fork stopped in mid-air. The larger man found Punk with his bottom lip pouting and his brows furrowed, contemplating. 'Don't know. Haven't really thought about it.'

Joe's brows rocketed up to the sky. 'Huh. Well how about that.'

Punk didn't even realise the significance of his words to his ex as he took another greedy bite of his pie. 'Did I tell you about the sentencing?'

Joe stiffened, the grip on his cup grew tighter. 'Twenty years each. A fucking joke.'

'Least they're locked up,' Punk noted with a sharpness in his tone. 'Least it's all over now and we can put it behind us.'

'Hmm.'

'Least now I don't have to stick around for the courts anymore,' Punk went on. 'I can finally leave and go be with Drew. This long-distance shit sucks!'

'I know it's been hard for you both,' Joe admitted. 'I'm glad you're finally gonna see him again. In person this time, not just on a screen.'

'Urgh, it was painful. Especially with Drew's crappy Wi-Fi!' Joe gave a small huff of laughter while Punk chewed thoughtfully on some pastry. 'And hey, at least you don't have to worry about me now.'

Joe lowered his cup and fixed his eyes on him. 'Phil, I'll always worry about you.' A warm glow pulsed in Punk's rib cage. 'If anything, I'll worry even more, I mean, you're gonna be in an entirely different country in an entirely different continent.'

'It'll only be for a year or two. Until Drew gets his visa sorted.' Punk heard Joe taking in a deep breath and knew something was up. 'What?' he eyed him suspiciously.

'It's just... the longest I've ever seen you leave Chicago was like a month and a half. And you got so homesick that we had to watch Ferris Bueller every night for a week.' Punk let out a loud laugh at the memory. 'And we were only in fucking Miami! This is... Scotland, we're talking about.'

'I'll miss Chicago,' Punk admitted, scraping some creamy frosting onto his fork, 'but I'll be fine. I'll be with Drew, and... I know it sounds cheesy as hell but when I'm with him, I feel... it feels like home.'

Joe absorbed Punk's words. His lips slowly wobbled into a content smile and he nodded his head.

'You know something,' Punk picked up the conversation again. 'I like this.'

'What, the pie? Yeah I thought it would be right up your-'

'No' Punk shook his head. 'I mean this.' He motioned with his finger between the pair of them. 'You and me. Going out for coffee. Talking. Like friends.'

'Phil, we're not friends.'

Punk's head shot up with a heartbroken squeak but Joe only grinned softly back at him.

'You were right when you said we could never be just friends. We've been through so much together, we mean too much to each other. We're something else.'

'Then what? What are we?'

Joe took a long, slow slurp of his coffee, eyes squinted in thought. 'We're... BFFs.'

Punk snorted a laugh then held up his cup. 'I'll drink to that. To BFFs.'

Joe clinked his own cup against his. 'To BFF's.'

The connecting flight from O'Hare to JFK was easy enough but the long haul over the Atlantic was gruelling. Punk tried to distract his over-active mind by watching the in-flight movie or reading but as the little plane icon edged further along the red dotted line on his screen, the butterflies in his belly manifested into a herd of flapping turkeys and he could only bring himself to stare out the window at the clouds and blue sea below and try to keep calm.

He'd never been bothered by a descent before but when the 'safety buckle' light pinged on and the turbulence kicked in, he began to sweat. Halfway through the landing, the old lady sitting next to him placed her hand over his.

'It's alright, dear,' she cooed, wrapping her warm, gnarled fingers around his. 'My husband was a nervous flyer too. We'll be safely on the ground very soon.' He wondered for a moment how she knew then noticed his fingernails were digging into the fabric of his armrests, his knuckles white.

'Thank you, m'am,' he murmured back.

'Are you coming over for a holiday?' the lady asked. She was British but he couldn't place where from exactly.

'No, m'am, I'm...' he could see fields of green coming into view out the window beneath them. Followed rapidly by grey square of houses, a city, tiny at first getting bigger and bigger. 'I'm... gonna be living here. For a while. With my boyfriend.' It felt strange saying it out loud. Like an out-of-body experience.

'Oh, how lovely,' the woman smiled sweetly. 'Will he be there to meet you at the gate?'

The turkeys in his stomach began pecking at his lining. 'Yeah. Should be.'

'If you ask me, that's the most wonderful thing about flying,' she squeezed his hand again and wrinkled the bridge of her button nose at him. 'Families and loved ones coming together again after being apart.'

Her words were like a salve, soothing some of the chaos inside. 'Y-yeah, guess you're right.'

'I'm sure your boyfriend will be over the moon to see you again.'

'Thank you, m'am.'

She held his hand the whole way down until they landed with a bump on the runway. Punk helped her take her suitcases off the conveyor belt at the baggage claim. 'You're so kind, dear,' she said, then beckoned him down to her height so she could kiss his cheek. 'Now you make sure and tell your boyfriend how lucky he is having such a gentleman as you.'

Punk huffed a laugh at that and waved as the old lady disappeared through the gate. Then he turned back to the conveyor, his eyes finding his own bag circling round and round and round. His hands remained in his pockets, standing, waiting until one-by-one the conveyor emptied out and he was the last one standing.

He tried to breathe, the way Joe had taught him but every drag stuttered and choked him. 'Come on, this is stupid,' he scolded himself under his breath. 'You've walked out in front of thousands, millions even. You can't get stage fright now!'

He lifted his case and trundled up to the gates, passed through security and border control and finally he started that long walk into the hub of the airport itself. Stepping through the open doors he glanced around timidly, scanning each face in the crowd.

Then let out an audible gasp.

Drew was right there! Leaning against a column with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair was tied back and he was wearing jeans with a blue sports top under his leather jacket. As soon as he spied Punk, he straightened up, his dimples popping into his cheeks with a smile and his dazzling blue eyes shimmering like the morning sun on the ripples of a mountain pool.

And in that single instant, all the nerves melted away. Punk wondered what the hell he'd been so nervous about. The hard part was over - this next step was easy.

The two lovers bashfully walked towards one another, their cheeks reddening. Punk let go of his case, left it standing alone as he lifted both hands in front of him.

A wave.

A thumbs-up.

First two fingers touching the side of his eye then swiping towards Drew.

Straight left index finger touching the curve made by his right thumb and forefinger.

Right index finger curled on his left palm.

Right index finger touching his left index finger.

All fingers interlocked, palms facing.

Punk finished and looked up expectantly at Drew who's stunning sapphires had grown twice their size. Then they softened. His lips parted.

'It's good to see you too, Punk.'

If Drew had been stunned at Punk's little surprise, the tattooed man almost fainted with shock at his! 'You... you can...'

The Scot gave a hearty laugh at the slack-jawed expression on his boyfriend's face. 'Aye,' he said, scratching his fingers through his beard, 'I've been seeing a speech therapist for a few months now. Sorry I didn't tell you before - I wanted to surprise ye.'

Punk just gaped back.

'But you did the same!' Drew pointed out. 'How long have you been learning BSL?' Nothing in reply. 'Punk?' He waved his large hand in front of his boyfriend's face. 'Anyone home?'

A soft smile wobbled onto Punk's lips. 'You do have the accent.'

Drew dipped his head, the bridge of his nose turning a deep shade of pink. 'Aye well. It's not as broad as it once was, but it's still there, at least. Here, I'll help you with your bags.' Drew grabbed hold of the small suitcase's handle then looked around, confused. 'Is this it?'

'Urgh, you sound just like my ex!'

Drew chuckled. 'How is Joe?' he asked while they made their way out of the airport. His free hand dropped to his side and found Punk's. The tattooed man beamed, enjoying the feeling of physical connection with Drew after being apart from him for almost a year and a half.

They chatted comfortably as Drew drove them out of the airport parking lot and onto the motorway. Punk was completely enchanted by the sound of Drew's voice, even if it felt so strange and almost unnatural falling from the Scot's lips. He closed his eyes to listen deeper to it; the rich bass, the rugged accent, the lilting intonation when he was telling a joke. The words themselves passed him by but the sound alone was such an opulent feast that he felt full to the brim.

Outside, the landscape skimmed past, changing from the tall city blocks to pretty flat fields, wooden fence posts, the odd weathered stone building. 'So, this is Scotland, huh?'

'This? Fuck no!' Drew scoffed. 'This is England. You'll know when we reach Scotland.'

'How will I know when-?'

'Trust me,' Drew arched a cheeky brow at his boyfriend, 'you'll know.'

Punk shrugged off the cryptic statement and they continued to chat, about Larry, about AJ, about all the pitfalls in visa bureaucracy when all of a sudden, Punk sat upright and pressed his face to the window.

'Holy shiiiii...'

It had happened so suddenly, like they had travelled through some magic veil into a whole new world. All around them, towering green hills loomed high like mighty sentinels, crowds of them holding the narrow road in their giant hands. Punk felt so small all of a sudden, gaping up at the majestic peaks, dotted all around with fluffy freckles of grazing sheep. Off to his right, a gap opened up between two of the giants, revealing an awe-inspiring waterfall rushing down the entire height of the jagged cliff, its clear waters sparkling with a million stars of sunlight.

'Told you, you would know,' Drew piped up, smugly. 'Pretty, huh?'

Punk tore his gaze away from the flawless masterpiece outside his window and found something even more dazzling, more breath-taking, sitting right there in the car next to him. He thought back to that fateful night in the storm, remembering the filthy, bedraggled, pitiful creature in a muzzle that he had scooped onto his back and taken home.

That creature had transformed into an angel. Celestial, unearthly.

Magnificent.

His grin hiked up his cheek making his crow's feet crinkle fondly.

'Beautiful,' he said, breathlessly.

The End

Previous Chapter

[thestanfordfiles-blog]

For all Mankind: Mick Foley

as a fan i have appreciated Mick Foley for quite a while. when i found this documentary on wwe network, i expected it to be entertaining but nothing much more than that. now that i have finished it i can say- it is a MUST WATCH for fans. Mick Foley is not just an amazing wrestler but is very clearly an amazing human being.

from how he got into wrestling, to the passion he infused into his wrestling career, the amazing matches, his successful writing career, the fact that he even worked as a stand-up comic, his philanthrophy-- which is not only admirable but literally has been inspiring to others. i am in awe. Foley (truly) is a god.

most of this will make no sense to anyone (but no one reads this anyway). its just the notes i took while watching. definitely going to hunt down a bunch of those matches to watch.

very athletic in his youth

ate worms off the field in front of opponents

took kevin James place as the heavy weight wrestler in hs

creative & entertaining-- wrote songs, shaved half his face

jimmy superfly snuka & magnificent don muraco madison square garden intercontenential steel cage match madison square garden

dude love- video with friends

dominic denucci

1986 jack foley, dynamite kid (wwe)

cactus jack manson vs the steiners 

wcw clash of champions cactus jack vs sting

wcw cactus jack vs vader

lost ear against vader in germany

ECW- promos

icw with terry funk

mankind wwe 1995---undertaker, boiler rm brawl

*****mind games- shawn michaels v mankind

jr interview on mankind

dude love interviews mankind and introduces cactus jack---cactus jack v hunter hearst helmsley

cactus jack and terry funk v dx

april/may 98 stone cold v dude love

hell in the cell with taker, “you have no idea how much i appreciate what you have done for this company  but i never want to see anything like that again.” put a governor (speed limiter) on him-- vince

mr. socko started when vince hurt his ankle

survivor series mankind v rock (recreated the montreal screw job)

mankind beats the rock for the wwe championship

rock and mankind i quit match

[tag with stone cold, 1997] tag with the rock

raw sept 27, 1999, this is your life

wrote his own books

Memoirs

(1999) Have a Nice Day: A Tale of Blood and Sweatsocks. ReganBooks. ISBN 0-06-039299-1. (credited as Mankind/Mick Foley) (2001) Foley Is Good: And the Real World Is Faker than Wrestling. ReganBooks. ISBN 0-06-103241-7. (2007) The Hardcore Diaries. PocketBooks. ISBN 1-4165-3157-2 (2010) Countdown to Lockdown: A Hardcore Journal. Grand Central Publishing. ISBN 0-446-56461-3 Children's fiction

(2000) Mick Foley's Christmas Chaos. ReganBooks. ISBN 0-06-039414-5. (2001) Mick Foley's Halloween Hijinx. HarperCollins Publishers. ISBN 0-06-000251-4. (2004) Tales From Wrescal Lane. World Wrestling Entertainment.ISBN 0-7434-6634-9. (2012) A Most Mizerable Christmas DK Publishing, Inc.ISBN 9781465403452.[113] Contemporary fiction

(2003) Tietam Brown. Knopf. ISBN 0-375-41550-5. (2005) Scooter. Knopf. ISBN 1-4000-4414-6.

with al snow v the holly (supposed to be last match)

v triple h (street fight), v triple h hell in a cell supposed to be last match...actual last match at wrestle mania (wished last match was hell in the cell)

commissioner- felt like he made the biggest impact as commissioner [“i lied about the beads”, Kurt angle]

(2003) Tietam Brown-- wanted to do a book completely on his own. has to be let go in order to be able to work there again.

kevin nash v hhh hell in the cell, ref

mick foley send off, madison square garden

tag with the rock vs evolution  (felt like he let himself down)

******v randy orten (would have been an opportunity for another perfect ending)

so charitable he got dee snider started and dee still feels like mick puts him to shame

pushed cm punk & samoa joe

wrestle mania against edge (another potential perfect end)

was in the movie animorph 

Year Title Role Notes 1999 Beyond the Mat Himself 2000 Big Money Hustlas Cactus Sac 2007 Anamorph Antique Store Owner 2009 Bloodstained Memoirs Himself 2015 Dixieland Himself 2016 Chokeslam Patrick

commentary on smackdown-- vince can be touch on the commentators (in the headphones)...im going to disney land in a few days and i can t have anyone ruin that for me

December 24 pre-taped edition of Monday Night Raw. Foley as Santa was run over by Alberto Del Rio. However, he managed to recover later in the night and help Cena defeat Del Rio in a Miracle on 34th Street Fight-- last match

stand up comedy

[wrestlersownmyheart]

Second Chances Ch. 30 (Book 1 In the "Chances" Series) *Samoa Joe X OC*

Pairing: Samoa Joe X Female OC

Summary:

Ella Roberts has led a traumatic life.

She witnessed her parents' murders at the age of eighteen, and narrowly escaped death herself, due to the intervention of Joe Seanoa, a close family friend. After she discovers she was the true target the night her parents were killed, she assumes a new identity and runs away with intentions of protecting her family and loved ones. Years later, she is pursued by a mysterious Ukrainian, and soon finds herself right back in the biggest nightmare of her life. Fate brings her back to Joe, and knowing Ella's still in danger, Joe vows to keep her safe. But can he succeed? Or will the danger that still threatens her freeze any second chance they have at a happily-ever-after?

Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.

Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings: Mild violence

Chapter 30

Two Years Later…

Seattle, Washington

AJ hooked Robert Roode's leg and rolled his opponent up for the pin as the crowd roared in anticipation. Earl Hebner fell to the canvas and slapped the rough flooring three times. The bell rang and AJ and Joe were declared the winners of the tag match. They both held their arms up in victory and posed for the fans as AJ's theme song boomed through the sound system.

AJ and Joe left Beer Money in the ring to sell their exhaustion and implied injuries. They then bumped fists as they walked up the ramp and headed backstage. Minutes later, they entered the locker room to get a shower and head back to their hotel.

Joe felt strange. He couldn't put his finger on what was making him feel that way.

Something is going to go down soon, he thought. I'm sure of it. The question is…what is it?

About a half hour later, he was showered, dressed and driving toward the Hilton.

The apprehension he felt wouldn't leave him.

What is going on, he wondered in frustration. I've never been one to have anxiety attacks, so why do I feel so much dread? He turned the radio on to try and get his mind off the feeling of doom, but the song playing brought him a new level of despair—"When Can I See You" by Babyface.

Tears burned his eyes as he recalled his seventeenth birthday when he danced with Ella. Only minutes later, Christy had walked up and inadvertently hurt Ella. The agony from the memory was almost enough to make him pull over and pray for the pain to pass. But he was approaching the Hilton so he simply turned the radio off, and pulled into the parking garage. He quickly took the first available space he found, pulled the car into it, and killed the engine. Grabbing his suitcase, he climbed out of the vehicle and strode to the elevator. The doors opened instantly and he hurried inside, punching the "L" button for the lobby so he could get checked into his room.

The elevator dinged seconds later and the doors opened. Stepping out onto the lobby floor, he heard the loud strumming of a guitar to his right.

His anxiousness returned with a vengeance.

I know that song, he thought, heading in the direction of the music. He couldn't place it right away however. Moving closer he began to hear the song more clearly. He closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate better.

"The path that I'm walking I must go alone I must take the baby steps 'til I'm full grown, full grown Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they? And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay…"

Joe's eyes shot open when his heart skipped a beat.

Ella. New Year's Eve. She was angry at me and then sang this song.

He listened closer to the female singing, and recognized the voice a mere instant later.

But it's impossible, he thought. Hurrying to the double doors of the auditorium he looked inside and stared at the woman on the stage.

"My God," he uttered, trying to stay composed.

It's her! Ella—She's alive!

He'd know her anywhere. Her hair had grown even longer—all the way to her hips. Her angelic voice reverberated through the hotel's sound system as she strummed a guitar.

She looks happy, he thought, anger settling heavy in the pit of his stomach. She is singing that song and looks happy! Does she not realize what she's put me through for the past twelve years—Does she even care?! How in the world did I ever think she loved me? If she could just run off and leave me for a music career… I'd never have left her for wrestling. I would've given up my career for her without a moment's hesitation. It occurred to him then that he was still married. He'd slept around and had numerous one-night-stands and he was married. I cheated on her, he thought, his anger escalating even more. She caused me to cheat on her! I would've never slept with another woman had I known she was alive. She was all I ever wanted.

"Sir? Sir, if you want to see the show, you'll need to buy a ticket."

Joe turned to face an usher who'd approached him from the auditorium's second set of doors. He gave him a slight nod. "I understand. Thank you." He turned then, and headed for the front desk to check in. When he'd arrived at the hotel, he had simply wanted to go up to his room and get some sleep.

But now, he had new plans.

There's no way Ella is going to get by without explaining her actions to me, he thought, his eyes darkening with fury. She will at least acknowledge how she hurt me and Jeff and all of our friends. She will NOT get away with this—not by a long shot.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Ella smiled at the audience as she finished strumming the last few notes of "When I See You Smile". The loud applause she received never ceased to amaze her.

"Thank you, everyone," she spoke into the vintage microphone in front of her. "Tonight is a night of some very special songs that mean a lot to me. The song I'm about to sing, I hold very dear to my heart. It's by Fergie. And I only hope I can sing it half as well as she did."

She strummed her guitar and prayed for her voice to make it through the song. The previous song was hard enough to get through—since she and Joe had danced to it at Jeff's New Years Party the night her parents died. But this song would be even more difficult because she'd actually sang it to Joe—or for his benefit, rather—on the same night.

As she sang through the opening of the song, Ella wondered why she was torturing herself in such a horrible way—but she quickly realized she needed to let go of her past. All of it. She didn't have a future with Joe—she had to accept that. It seemed logical to release the love she held for him through singing the songs she had connected with him. It was her way of finally saying goodbye.

As she approached the second verse her throat burned from the potential sobs that threatened to rip forth, but she managed to hold herself together and sang the verse perfectly despite the tears that slipped down her cheeks.

Ella somehow managed to miraculously finish the last notes of the song. Glancing up at the audience, she was shocked to find many of the people had tears in their own eyes. Applause—softer now but every bit as appreciative as with the previous songs she sang—rumbled throughout the auditorium.

"Th-thank you," Ella could barely speak above a whisper. "Thank you so much."

With that, she stood up from the stool she'd sat on, took a small bow, and then hurried backstage before succumbing to a harsh round of tears.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Miracle awoke from her sleep to hear the doorbell ringing downstairs. She turned slightly in the full-size bed and looked at her best friend, Kristen Hampton, whom she was staying the night with. She didn't need to look at the clock to know it was late. When she heard Kristen's parents' footsteps heading downstairs, she grew nervous.

"Kristen," she whispered, nudging her friend. "Krissy, wake up!"

The other girl jumped awake suddenly. "What is it, Miracle," she groaned sleepily. "Tomorrow's Friday… We still have to get up early for school."

"Your doorbell just rang. I heard your parents head downstairs. Do you guys normally get visitors this late at night?"

"Are you sure you weren't just dreaming," Kristen asked, yawning loudly.

"Yes, I'm sure," Miracle hissed. "Listen!"

Both girls quieted down and instantly heard multiple voices downstairs.

"What's going on," Kristen asked.

"You got me," Miracle answered. "I hope everything's-" She cut off as footsteps hurried up the stairs. A few seconds later, the bedroom door opened and the over-head light came on.

"Girls?" Kristen's mother, Janine, spoke softly to the soon-to-be teenagers. "You're awake?"

"Yeah, Mom. What's going on," Kristen asked, rubbing her eyes. "Who was at the door?"

"Um…" Her mother started, seemingly nervous. Her dark eyes shifted anxiously around the room. "Well, it's a police officer. He…" She looked at her daughter's friend then. "Miracle, honey… The officer says your mother was in a bad car accident. He needs to take you to the hospital."

"My mom," Miracle cried, already jumping out of the bed. "Oh, my God! Is she okay?" She quickly grabbed the clothes she'd worn earlier in the day and headed for the bathroom.

"He won't tell me anything," Janine answered. "He just says he needs to get you to the hospital."

Within a couple of moments, Miracle had pulled on her jeans and t-shirt along with her tennis shoes. Then she hurried back out into the hallway. "Can you hold onto my overnight bag and stuff till I can come by and get it," she asked Janeen.

"Of course, honey," Janine answered. "Get going. We'll be praying everything turns out fine."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hampton," Miracle said, swallowing past the lump forming in her throat. "Thank you so much." Then she was running down the stairs and meeting the officer in the living room.

"My mother," she cried, stopping in front of a tall, uniformed officer. "Is my mother okay?"

"I haven't been informed of her condition, I'm afraid," the cop answered quietly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I have just been instructed to take you to the hospital where she's being treated. I'm sorry, that's all I can tell you."

"Can we leave now," Miracle asked frantically.

"Of course. I'm parked right outside." He led the girl out of the house and to his patrol car parked in the driveway. He opened the passenger door for her and made sure she was safely inside before shutting the door. He hurried to the driver's side, got in and was driving away a few seconds later.

"Which hospital is my mom at," Miracle asked, shakily fastening her seat-belt.

When the cop didn't answer, she looked over at him. He was nervously checking his rear-view and side-view mirrors.

"Officer, please," she tried to gain his attention. "Where is my mother?"

He failed to answer again, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him. Apprehension clouded her senses then. Something's wrong, she thought. Something's not right here. She slowly slithered her hand up to the door's handle, trying to keep her actions discreet while the cop continued nervously checking his mirrors and looking over his shoulder. She tugged on the handle, but nothing happened. She watched in horror as the cop turned to glance at her and grabbed for her hand—pulling it away from the door handle.

"No," Miracle yelled, trying to free her wrist. She yanked it free and jerked on the door handle again. "Let me out," she screamed, beginning to slam her hands against the window in an attempt to break it out.

"Stop!"

The cop finally spoke up and grabbed a fistful of Miracle's long, black hair. Before the girl could even scream, he propelled her face forward and smacked her forehead against the dashboard. Miracle cried out in pain and held her head in her hands, completely dazed. She lightly trailed her fingers over the source of the pain, and found blood across them when she looked at her hand. The next thing she knew the car came to a sudden stop and she was dragged across the driver's seat. Taking a quick glance at her surroundings, she saw they were in a deserted alley—save for a dark van parked next to the cop's car.

Several men stood before her—one of who reached out and grabbed her, yanking her over to the other men. The cop hurried into his car and quickly drove away as one of the other men stepped forward. Slowly gazing upward, Miracle saw nothing recognizable about his face.

Till her eyes fell on his.

"Oh, God…" she whispered, and struggled against the man's hold on her. "No…"

"You know who I am," the man's voice came out softly, despite the cold harshness in his ice-blue eyes.

Miracle trembled in fear and nodded slightly.

"Oh?" He stepped up to Miracle and latched onto the back of her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. She cried out and tried to shrink away from him, but the grip he held on her hair wouldn't allow her to move. "And who am I?"

"Y-You're Jacques F-Fournier."

"You look much like your father," Fournier said, tilting the girl's chin back with his free hand. Her eyes lit up for a brief instant before her foot reared back and kicked him in the shin. He grimaced in pain but kept his grip on Miracle. He backhanded her across the face and she crashed against the van's side door. "But you have your mother's spirit." He heard the girl's sobs and picked her back up. "You are going to die, and there's nothing you can do to change that." He smirked then. "You weren't even supposed to happen. You're just a mistake—only born because of some oversight on my part. Now, you will help me get to your mother, and then when you are of no more use, I will kill you with my bare hands

Miracle swallowed hard, and tasted the metallic flavor of blood in her mouth. However, she still mustered the courage to say, "My dad will find you. And when he does, you will die." She didn't know how she knew such a fact about her dad, but she knew it nonetheless.

For an instant, the girl saw something resembling fear pass through Fournier's icy eyes. But then he shoved her back into the hands of one of the men from the van. "Shut her up," he growled and then climbed into the back of the van. "Hurry up! We need to get going!"

Too busy wondering what 'shut her up' would entail, Miracle had no time to protest as one of the men clapped a cloth over her nose and mouth. She struggled for only a few seconds before having to breathe in the sweet smelling drug, and collapsed limply against the man who held her.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Sighing sadly, Ella stepped inside her house, locking the door behind her, and tossed her keys onto the hallway table. Then she headed upstairs and quickly changed into a satin robe till she was ready to take a shower. Pinning her hair up into a messy up do with a clippie, she went back downstairs to fix a late meal.

She stared into the refrigerator for what seemed ages before simply grabbing one of Miracle's Lunchables. "I'm not hungry anyway," she muttered, taking the food to the sofa and turning on the television. She flipped the channels till she came to The Mummy playing on the AMC channel.

Her heart jolted as the movie brought back bittersweet memories to her. She and Joe were watching the movie the night he explained what 'lo'u alofa' meant and then proceeded to bestow her with some passionate kisses. She had wanted the term of endearment to stay alive with her, so she had made it a pet name for Miracle. Thinking of her daughter made her even sadder.

It just isn't fair, she thought. Why couldn't Miracle have known Joe? I hate this. I know life isn't fair. I know we're not promised a perfect life, but I feel like I'm-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. With her mind still on the pain and anguish she was experiencing, she didn't think before she opened the door. Her gaze instantly fell on the person who'd knocked and she gasped sharply. She couldn't believe her eyes.

The last thing she saw before she sank into a black abyss, was Joe's angry face glaring at her.

Author's Note: I realize that most likely neither TNA or WWE stays at a Hilton, lol. But in order for this to work, I needed them to stay at a glitzy hotel (only the fancy ones have entertainment as far as I can tell). And since that was how Joe and Ella meet up again (his hearing her singing), this is just how I had to write it. So yeah…not very realistic, but necessary. Oh well, it's fiction! :)

[junker-town]

5 can’t-miss sports events to watch this weekend

End your holiday week with these great events.

This has been such a weird week, right? That Tuesday holiday just threw everything off a little. There’s only one way to settle everything down, re-center yourself and just watch some sports.

It’s going to be a little more relaxed this weekend than last, and that’s okay. Sometimes it’s nice to take some time and smell the roses — instead of just the pizzas that have been delivered to your house.

WHAT TO WATCH

All times Eastern.

TENNIS

It’s been a disastrous week at Wimbledon with players dropping out, horrific injuries and flying ants swarming the courts to breed. That makes this weekend a chance to start anew and get everything back on track.

Most of the top seeds are still in action and the Grand Slam moves into its fourth round over the weekend. Despite the early setbacks it’s shaping up to be a good event and it’s here where we’ll get a better sense for how the finals will shape up.

Coverage begins daily at 7 a.m. on ESPN.

MLB

The Tigers and Indians meet on Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN starting at 8 p.m.

Detroit are in dire need of a win in the AL Central if they hope to keep any playoff chances alive, while Cleveland are riding high atop the division.

SOCCER

The USMNT plays Panama in their first Gold Cup game this weekend, and it's the only one in the group stage likely to give them any trouble. Likely easy wins against Martinique and Nicaragua await, but to avoid a difficult quarterfinal match, they'll need to win.

The last time these teams met, the USMNT battled to a 1-1 draw in Panama City, but was arguably outplayed. They also had their best players for that game; the USMNT's stars are sitting out the Gold Cup group stage. Saturday's game will be a serious challenge for the American B-squad.

Saturday, 4:30 p.m., FOX

MMA

The women's bantamweight championship will be on the line at UFC 213. Champion Amanda Nunes will try for her second title defense against the tough Valentina Shevchenko on pay-per-view. UFC 213 begins at 10 p.m.

WWE

In what might be the most ridiculous name in WWE history, Great Ball of Fire is taking place on Sunday beginning at 6:30 p.m. on the WWE Network. The WWE Universal Title is on the line when Brock Lesnar aims to defend the belt against Samoa Joe.

This is a matchup wrestling fans have wanted to see for YEARS and these two big men are two of the most athletic in the business for dudes their size. They will put on a show. However, the most exciting match could be the WWE Women’s Title between Alexa Bliss and Sasha Banks. Their styles clash super well and it’s going to be a ton of fun.

WHAT TO READ

What is the future of football in the year 17776? Jon Bois takes you on a journey that’s as much science fiction as sports.

The first week of Wimbledon sucked. Here’s why.

Jim Harbaugh is building something special in Michigan.

Zach Randolph meant so much to the Grizzlies that he’s getting his number retired — even though he’s still playing.

Petra Kvitova’s Wimbledon story was a triumph, even though she didn’t win.

What was the golden age for every position in baseball history?

[xfirespritex]

Masterlist

Tye Dillinger:

Falling For The Perfect 10:  Told from the point of view of an original female character we follow the ups and downs of dating, and falling in love with, Tye Dillinger.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  

Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7 Chapter 8 

Chapter 9  Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 

Chapter 13  Chapter 14 Epilogue

Tyler Bate:  

Falling Slowly: A Tyler Bate X Reader story.  You meet Tyler while working in a restaurant/bar not far from Full Sail University and, without knowing it, both of you are slowly falling for the other. Some cute awkwardness, some chivalry and some smut for good measure.

Butterflies:

Prompt: *evil laugh* This is so much fun!! So… how about a Tyler Bate fluff fest where the reader is Pete’s little sister and is backstage for Pete and Tyler’s match at TakeOver. Tyler is immediately smitten with reader but doesn’t say or do anything out of respect for Pete. But as he and YN become closer, it’s getting hard for both of them to hide their feelings from Pete???

Requested by: @caramara3

Boy: A Tyler Bate X Reader story. Reader is older than Tyler and is concerned with the age difference. insecurities arise, bad communication and a massive misunderstanding make everything come close to falling apart. Can it be fixed?

Sami Zayn:

Freckles & Seashells: A beach day with a bunch of wrestlers turns into much more. Fluff and smut. 

I Can’t Stay Away: Sami and the reader are in a friends with benefits situation but it isn’t enough for the reader. What happens when they have a huge misunderstanding and both are left brokenhearted?

Part 1 Part 2

Confessions in the Dark: Reader is invited to a Halloween Party by Jose. There she learns a lot more than she bargained for about her friend and crush.

My prompts are:

Quote: “ are you shivering cause you’re afraid or…”

Location: party in the woods

Situation:  stories around campfire

Supernatural element: werewolves

Part 1 Part 2

Time to Heal: Y/N meets Sami at physical therapy and while both of them are healing from different injuries they end up falling for one another. A little angst, lots of fluff.

Finn Balor:

Home Alone Tonight: Told from the POV of the reader, what happens when the reader and her ex are at the same bar and Finn Balor comes to the rescue. Fluff and smut.

Part 1 Part 2  

Ruin the Friendship:  Request by @ caramara3: 

First of all.... YAY!!!!! I am so happy that you're back to writing again!! I've missed you so much!!!! AND... I am dying for some Finn Balor angst smut!!! I've been listening to Demi Lovato's "Ruin The Friendship" and all I can think about is Finn. Let's say Finn and the reader have been friends for years and he starting crushing on her. But he sees her "flirting" with another superstar (Samoa Joe?) and gets jealous. They fight and don't talk for a while until she confronts him. Smut ensues.

Mistletoe and Eggnog:  Requested by @lclb13

may I request a Finn Balor one shot where Y/N goes to see her cousin Karl during the Christmas Raw event and she bumps into Finn , her long time crush? The feelings after so long come rushing back and the two just finally get together? Maybe some angsty smut between them?

A Warm Embrace: Requested by @blueblazezz

I would love a Finn fluff where he is being so sweet and helpful around the house even making you a bubble bath due to you being in crappy achy mood from your period.

A Confession: Requested by @caramara3

Soooo I know you have like a billion fic requests already, but.... I had an idea that only you could possibly bring to life!! It's a Finn piece with angst, fluff, and smut!! Y/N is OGBC and has had a huge crush on Finn since the beginning. When Cathy dumps him, she decides to finally tell him how she feels, but he doesn't really respond the way she expected. It's not until she, Gallows, & Anderson are moved to SD that he realizes just how much he truly does love her.

Mojo Rawley:

Let Her Go :  When the reader gets an unexpected visitor one night in the form of her longtime friend Mojo Rawley they hash out their feelings.

Trent Seven:

Wildfire :  A year after their breakup Trent Seven comes to the reader, hoping for a reconciliation. Still friends but still feeling burned she has her doubts. Will she let him redeem himself? 

A Glass with Dessert: Requested by @ellothelongwaydown

Can I request this prompt “Why should we date?” “Because we are attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.” With Trent Seven? (Is this an okay format?) 😘

Stay the Night

This is my submission to the lovely 2K followers challenge by @theworldiscolorful

My Prompt: #53 “Will you stay the night?”

Adam Cole:

Love Me Harder: Based on an unofficial request from @hiitsmecharlie​after I posted about maybe opening requests. If this goes well I’ll consider opening requests.

"He falls for (y/n) and he’s flirty towards her but she’s a shy girl and she doesn’t open up easily, and is nothing like the women he’s used to, only one night stands, so he needs to step up his game and fight for her."

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3

Seth Rollins:

Comeback: A barbecue at Roman’s house causes old flames to run into each other. There’s a lot to sort out before they can move forward.

Tell Me You Love Me: So.... I have another idea. I don't know what it is about Demi Lovato, but she is just giving me great ideas! "Tell Me You Love Me" and ANGST ANGST ANGST!!! Seth and the reader are fwb's and while he wants to make it more, she is scared to make it official. They're all out one night and he sees her dancing with some guy and gets pissed. They fight and it ends with him saying "tell me you love me..."Requested by: @ caramara3

Part 1 Part 2

More than Friends:

OMG YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Seth Rollins. Seth and (Y/N) have been best friends for years, he has had feelings for her all that time and is just so sweet and cute to her. He gets jealous when she accepts to go out on a date with Baron. Roman tries to enter some sense into him. Angsty/fluff (you know me haha), maybe smutty. Hope this is clear. Thank you! Requested by @heeltothequeen

Corey Graves:

Leave Your Mark: A visit to the tattoo shop in Corey’s hometown leads to the reader and Corey growing closer. But, how close is too close and when will the truth come out?

Sunshine and Sugar:  Hello!! If you wouldn't mind I'd like to request a story!! I can't make up my mind between Aleister Black and Corey Graves, but I think something cute and fluffy for either would be nice!!! Thank you so much!! Oh! I really like cuddles and head kisses!!! Early mornings just waking up and tracing tattoos... I'm looking forward to seeing what you create!!! I'm sure it'll be spectacular!! Thank you!!!

Requested by: @vampire-kitty13

TJ Perkins

More Than a Game: Reader and TJ are friends but when he sees her in a new light he decides he wants to know more. Will this work out or ruin their friendship?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Pete Dunne:

This Means War:  Pete and the reader run into each other a year after you had a fling that was both intense but neither of you had put a label on it. You’d let it die slowly, no real closure but no real wounds. Pete approaches the reader for another chance.

Jealous: The reader has feelings for Pete but he seems to like things the way they are. What happens when jealousy rears its ugly head and it makes both parties confess things they didn’t dare to previously?

Safe:  Ok so I have another idea but I don't know if you would write it though. It deals with the reader being in an abusive relationship and Pete Dunne sorta rescuing her from it. How about if the reader is getting back into the whole dating scene after getting out of an abusive relationship and Trent and Tyler set her up on a blind date with Pete? And say maybe one night they're all out and she sees her ex and Pete goes into full protect mode followed by some fluffy smut? 

Requested by @caramara3

Tommaso Ciampa:

New In Town: Based on an unofficial request from @sonjashuterbugjohnson

“Y/N is at a bar and this guy won’t leave her alone, keeps trying to buy her drinks. She goes up to Tommaso and his group, asks him to pretend to be her boyfriend, things go from there”

The Road Less Traveled: Requested by @ sonjashuterbugjohnson

Hello! I have a request hopefully it’s not a rambling mess. Y/N and Tommaso Ciampa have a love hate relationship. They are forced to ride together and get snowed in at the hotel. Sharing a room/Bed confessions of feeling all the hits! As smutty as you are comfortable with.

So In Love With Two:

Story Summary:

Prompt: Y/N and Tommaso used to date but had a bad break up. They still have feelings for each other Y/n decides to move on he does not take that well. Jealousy Angst arguing and Make up sex......... (And with further elaboration and discussion) Yes! She and Tommaso used to date but she starts to get close to Johnny over the loss of him. She realizes that there are feelings for both poly for everyone!  (She moves in with Johnny after the breakup). 

Johnny X Reader X Tommaso

Requested by @sonjashuterbugjohnson​

Dean Ambrose:

Weathering The Storm:

Part of the Dog Days of Summer Fic Writing Challenge by @sammiielli and @fan-fiction-galore

Summary: Dean Ambrose x Reader.  Prompts below:

Quote: “I will go through you if I have to- I am leaving.” 

Location: Lakefront cottage

Situation: Power outage and stranded

 Baron Corbin:

Dancing with The Wolf:

Story Summary: Baron Corbin and the reader are sort-of friends. What happens when they grow closer and Corey is all for his friends getting together?

Part 1 Part 2

Neville

Need You

Story Summary: Set the night Neville loses the title to Enzo. Reader goes to comfort Neville. 

Elias Samson

Eye on You

Story Summary: Anon Request -- Hey! Could you write a fluff where Elias has had his eyes on you ever since you came up to the main roster. And that he seems to be there when all the other wrestlers would flirt with you but they would stop as soon as he got there. And then he confesses his feelings to you. Yikes. This sounded better in my head. I understand if you don’t want to write it. But thanks anyway 😘 you’re an incredible writer.

A Gentleman’s Invitation

Prompt:  Hey! I love your writing so much! Could I request an Elias story where y/n (plus size if you can) has a huge crush on him and all her friends know about it and they always try to push them together but they never succeed until one day there’s a long plane ride where the only empty seat is next to Elias and while at first flustered they have a great conversation but y/n falls asleep on his shoulder and he wakes her up at the end and she’s embarrassed about it but he says she looked cute sleeping.

Requested by Anonymous

Beautiful on You

Prompt:  I just thought of an Elias fic, if this is up your alley. I’ve noticed he wears a lot of floral scarves so maybe the reason he wears them is his signal to his girl that he’s thinking of her? Or maybe it started as a joke between them and now she just keeps getting him floral scarves and he just wears them because she got them for him? And if you care to make it smutty instead of just fluffy maybe they can use one of his scarves as a restraint or a blindfold? Sorry if this idea is a mess.

Requested by @secretagentfangirl

Andrade Cien Almas

My Champion

Story Summary: Can you try writing for Andrade? l know you haven’t written him yet but I’m sure it will come out great if the inspiration hits. l was thinking a fic that’s fluffy and angsty (smut optional or even implied) that takes place just after he won the NXT championship and the reader is feeling a little threatened by his working relationship with Zelina Vega (because she’s gorgeous and was there for him immediately after winning and there was that time he was “known” for being a party boy/player) 

Requested by @secretagentfangirl

Johnny Gargano

So In Love With Two:

Story Summary:

Prompt: Y/N and Tommaso used to date but had a bad break up. They still have feelings for each other Y/n decides to move on he does not take that well. Jealousy Angst arguing and Make up sex......... (And with further elaboration and discussion) Yes! She and Tommaso used to date but she starts to get close to Johnny over the loss of him. She realizes that there are feelings for both poly for everyone!  (She moves in with Johnny after the breakup).

Johnny X Reader X Tommaso

Requested by @sonjashuterbugjohnson

Drew Gulak

Take Me Home

Story Summary: 

Y/N and Drew Gulak have been friends for a long time and while her crush lingers she is glad to be his friend and by his side through all the ups and downs. After his loss to Mustafa Ali in Dallas on March 20th Drew is brokenhearted. Even more so when the flight home to Philadelphia to see his family is canceled. Y/N sees a chance to help her friend so she alters her plans to help him out. How will this change their relationship?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Kyle O’Reilly

Strong and Faithful

Prompt: Hey! I was wondering if you could write me something?  I would love a Kyle O’Reilly one because there’s hardly anything on here for him. I was thinking maybe she’s dating Adam but she’s always been in love with Kyle and he’s always been in love with her but neither of them know that and then she finds out Adam cheated on her and goes and gets really drunk or something with a bunch of other wrestlers and her and Kyle are dancing really sexy with each other and maybe leads to smut and a confession. If you don’t wanna write smut that’s okay I can try and think of something else? I love your writing by the way!

Requested by: @shieldgirl95

Roman Reigns

Someday

Prompt: Hmm... let me think. I'm kinda thinking about maybe some angst fluff smut with Roman Reigns. Only if that's ok with you. Maybe he and the reader broke up a few years ago because he couldn't commit to her. Now she's started a 'fling' with Jason Jordan. RoRo gets jealous seeing them, makes a scene, and the reader goes to his room to confront him about it. Feelings are revealed, fluffy stuff followed by smutty things maybe???

Requested by: @caramara3

Ricochet

Remember When

Prompt:

I need some Ricochet fics in my life like you have NO IDEA!!!! Ok so here's the idea: both the reader and Ricochet had a thing way back in the indies but it ended once the reader got signed to WWE. So when they see each other again for the first time since at TakeOver: War Games, he meets up with her back at her hotel room to talk about them and why they ended it. Things escalate quickly and smut ensues back at reader's hotel room.

Requested by: @caramara3

[tialovestelevision]

Onward and Upward

I’ve decided to devote some time to something wildly different from the other shows I’ve been talking about. It’s not a drama, or an anime, or even, in the traditional sense, a fiction series. It is something of a hybrid of documentary and reality show, focused on the production of something of a hybrid of dramatic series and athletic display. The show I’m writing about this time is called Breaking Ground, and it’s available on the WWE Network subscription service.

It’s a show about the process of going from a newcomer at WWE’s Performance Center training facility to wrestling weekly shows on SmackDown and Raw for a worldwide audience. It’s narrated by William Shatner, and follows a few of the members of the roster of WWE’s NXT developmental brand (think the minor leagues in baseball, except that there are writers and NXT gets the best ones somehow) as they try to get to the point that someone promotes them to the main roster and they can start collecting those substantially larger paychecks.

The show is produced by WWE itself, which is… kind of a mixed blessing. WWE is a fascinating company, a near-monopoly in a relatively small part of the entertainment industry yet still, even at a low point, able to command massive cable ratings for its flagship shows. It has spent most of its history literally built on lies - they sold it as a legitimate, competitive sporting league for decades before acknowledging under oath during a trial that the matches were staged and the results predetermined. It’s only in the last few years that they have allowed any real access by fans to their production and training systems, and what’s come out of that has been really interesting, but it’s also always just a little suspect. This is a company whose fans want to be lied to, to honestly believe something they know isn’t true for just one more moment. To believe that a man can fly, a woman can overcome all obstacles, that a blue-collar working guy can take his boss down on national television, that heroes and villains exist and want to be loved or hated by them.

So I’ll be talking about this as television. It’s all almost certainly true, but there will always be that doubt. That same doubt that lets those chills still pass down our spines when the Undertaker’s gong sounds, or puts us on the edge of our seats when Sami Zayn sets up for his Helluva Kick.

Wrestling is a week-to-week thing and doesn’t lend itself to this blog. But a show about wrestling? That’s television.

Come on. Let’s see what we see.

1. We open with Triple H, Executive Vice President of WWE, head of Talent Relations, and twelve-time world champion, sitting in the yellow-roped NXT ring. Triple H is played by Paul Levesque, but nobody calls him Paul Levesque when talking about him as either a performer or an executive. That’s kind of just how wrestling works. Triple H is the son-in-law of Vince McMahon Jr., the current chairman and CEO of WWE. He’s talking about what it takes to be a WWE superstar. He’s talking about how someone can have talent and strength and charisma and a great look and passion and drive and still fail, because they’re missing “it.” It took him years, in terrible conditions for terrible pay, to make it to the WWE. We’re going to be watching a show about a group of elite athletes and entertainers who want to be WWE superstars, who are one step away, but for some, that one step might as well be a mountain. “Some will make it. Some won’t. This is WWE Breaking Ground.”

2. William Shatner: “This is not a job. It’s a lifestyle. No one here is guaranteed a thing. And they all want to make it to the top.” Opening credits.

3. The first of our trainees we meet is Bayley. She’s talking about her love of wrestling, starting at ten years old, and about watching Lita and Trish Stratus, the two most popular women wrestlers in the early to mid 2000s, and being inspired. She’s driving while she talks. She likes looking at the other cars and wondering what the dreams of the people in them are.

4. New guy is here signing a contract. He’s met by Matt Bloom, the head trainer. Matt Bloom has been wrestling for a very long time, usually under names that are some variant on “Albert.” Albert, Prince Albert, the A-Train. Though he also spent time as Tensai, Lord Tensai, and Dancing Tensai, which I imagine he’d rather forget. Still, good wrestler and knows the business. We see clips from the most recent (at the time of filming) WrestleMania, the biggest show in wrestling. Matt Bloom is telling us about the intensity and drive needed to be successful, and we get a training montage. William Shatner is telling us about the Performance Center, and about Tino Sabatelli, who is on his second opportunity at the PC. He was drafted in the NFL, but got hurt. He’s currently sidelined with a concussion, which is something WWE takes very seriously. He took a hit to the neck during his second-ever match at a show with an audience. He has to pass the concussion protocol to resume wrestling.

5. Now we meet Baron Corbin, who rides a motorcycle. He’s also a three-time Golden Gloves champion and a college football star. He played in four consecutive college championship games. He also played in the NFL. He talks about the difference between a team sport like football and an individual endeavor like wrestling. He’s also huge. He’s been at the PC for three years.He does have a main event slot at the next show.

6. Now we meet Sara Amato, the lead trainer. Very intense woman. She’s slamming some woman recruits. And now we meet Nhooph al-Areebi, the youngest woman at the PC. 19 years old. She’s been having a rough time. Her parents originally didn’t want her to wrestle, so she hid her training from them. She’s looking forward to working an NXT show, but the coaches don’t think she’s ready. We see Sara Amato about to do a hip toss on Nhooph. She’s having a hard time taking the move right.

7. Matt Bloom is talking about how hard it can be to stay motivated when things aren’t going well. And we meet Devin Taylor, who’s a backstage interviewer but wants to be a wrestler, and is struggling to learn the trade. She’s been doing backstage interviews for two years. She thinks Sara is her biggest advocate. She’s had a few injuries, though, which means other women have passed her in skill. She wants to get on a live event, but I don’t think Sara thinks she’s ready.

8. There’s a live event in Gainesville. Baron Corbin is main eventing it. Matt Bloom wants him to do abs. Corbin doesn’t want to do abs. Matt thinks Baron is a great, hard worker, but that he might get frustrated if someone passes him. Baron has a burn on his face from messing up a standing somersault.

9. Now we meet Apollo Crews, who is the son of an immigrant from Nigeria. He can also do that standing moonsault Baron burned his face messing up. He’s talking about his father’s inspiration, and his work at the big independent wrestling promotions, where he made a name for himself but didn’t make any money. Now, though, he’s making money and working NXT shows.

10. Tino is back on screen, talking about it being everyone’s goal to get called up - to get a slot on the main roster, touring. He’s doing his concussion protocol for Matt and Sara. Coming off the ropes, falling on his back (“bumping”), Tino hasn’t been able to take any bumps for three weeks because of the potential concussion. Matt is very impressed with Tino’s ability and football career, but thinks it’s been harder to transition to wrestling than Tino expected. He’s doing jumps onto a four-foot-tall stack of pads. He wants to go to six. Matt doesn’t think he should do so. So he’s going to lift tires and throw medicine balls instead. And pull things.

11. Now they’re going to practice promos - talking segments. This training is led by William Regal. He’s telling them about eye contact and telling us about how he teaches. Then we see his old entrance song, which is funny. He’s been a British nobleman, a Blackpool brawler, and, for some reason, a lumberjack. Also, sadly, a transphobic cross-dressing joke, because WWE has a habit of occasionally doing something awful. Nhooph is doing a promo, but it’s not great. Tino’s is better. Mojo Rawley is an NXT wrestler, and he’s doing his usual promo about being hyped, which is his character. William likes Mojo’s promo.

12. Time for the Gainesville event. Norman Smiley is riding to Gainesville with Baron Corbin and his girlfriend. Norman is another veteran wrestler. He’s also one of Baron’s few confidants. Baron doesn’t know when he’ll be called up. He wants Norman to tell him, which doesn’t seem to make Norman happy.

13. The wrestlers are setting up the ring. We see Bayley bringing in chairs. Baron isn’t setting up the ring. Mojo is giving him trouble for it. He’s eating. Baron likes the people he likes and doesn’t really want to be around other people.

14. Still setting up the ring. There’s Tino working on it. The ring is set up now. The wrestlers are called to ringside. The card is Apollo vs. Solomon Crowe, Mojo Rawley vs. Elias Samson, a main event of Finn Balor and Samoa Joe vs. Tyler Breeze and Baron Corbin. Plus other matches they don’t tell us about. Dana Brooke is on the card, but Devin is not working the show at all. She is sad about that. Depressed. But she says her time will come. Carmella is also getting ready. She’s Bayley’s best friend.

15. It’s raining outside, but it’s dry inside, and the show starts. Bayley is NXT Women’s Champion. She’s tagging with Carmella against Emma and Dana Brooke, which sets the mood well for the rest of the show.

16. Here’s Baron Corbin coming out for his match. Finn Balor, one of his opponents, is NXT Champion. The other is nearly a legend of the business. Baron is pinned at the end of the match by Finn Balor.

17. Nhooph is meeting with Sara. She was supposed to be on the Gainesville show, but got bumped from the card. Now, Sara and Matt are talking about Devin. Sara thinks Devin can make it, but Matt is worried about her injuries.

18. Tino’s doing more of his concussion protocol stuff. He’s doing agility and strength tests. Trying to prove he’s ready. He’s taking bumps. We meet Canyon, who’s a recruiter and who also has the job of firing people. And the episode ends.

Overall: I’m not really sure what to offer in analysis here - in a lot of ways, the show is its own analysis. I don’t like them cutting the episode off right when Canyon shows up?

This show made me a fan of Nhooph al-Areebi and Tino Sabatelli. It’s also a bittersweet thing to watch, now, since I know who has, in the time since it was made, gone on to immense success, who has gotten stalled out or lost their jobs, and who’s gotten called up to the main roster simply to be misused and pushed down the card.

I’ll have more analysis on future episodes.

[d2kvirus]

27/9/19 Fact or Fiction

Statement #1: Starting in October, every week the WWE will air 5 hours of live wrestling on cable TV and 2 hours on national network TV, and AEW will present 2 hours live on cable TV while IMPACT, MLW, ROH, NJPW, WOW have tapped nationally televised programs all featuring contracted wrestlers. This is bad for independent wrestling. FACT - Putting aside WWE's signing any indie talent in the top half of the PWI 500 of any given year, the more companies that are on TV means that the available talent pool gets shallower and shallower. Case in point, look at the period between 2002-7 where the same talent would appear in both TNA and ROH, which was possible as somebody like Samoa Joe appearing for both TNA and ROH didn't step on anybody's toes - but when ROH signed their first PPV contract in 2007, then they were stepping on TNA's toes and the immediate fallout was the likes of Austin Aries and Homicide being held to their pre-existing TNA contracts. That was the landscape when there were just two companies competing to be the alternative, but when you factor in AEW, New Japan and MLW, while also stirring in the continued headache that is Lucha Underground's contracts, putting together a show becomes a lot more complicated due to having to juggle who they can book against who without receiving an angry phonecall for it

Statement #2: Beyond Wrestling started out 10 years ago intentionally putting on shows in an empty venue with only the other wrestlers on the card in the audience, but then just recently held their annual Americanrana event in front of a rabid audience of more than 1,000 fans. Live audiences are an important part of a pro-wrestling show. FACT - While WWE are content to follow the Premier League's lead and make the people sat in the stands borderline insignificant in terms of the company's finances, for every other company the live crowd is important to their product not just in terms of the money they bring in when buying a ticket, but also to how the company presents itself as a sold-out building with an invested crowd makes the product look so much better than a half-empty arena or a crowd sitting on their hands

Statement #3: Pro-wrestling should be more like a sport and NOT a narrative battle between good and evil. FICTION - As somebody else has said in the comments, why can't it be both? Plenty of other sports manage a balance the two, the most obvious example that springs to mind is when a non-league team is drawn against a Premier League team in the FA Cup and the press get behind the plucky underdog and pretend they likely won't get hammered by the Premier League team's reserves. The important thing is to get the balance right, otherwise you end up with something hokey like every single boxing weigh-in of the past 25 years

Statement #4: Classic ROH was better than classic ECW. FACT - Call me a heretic, but if we compare ECW's golden period of 1995-7 to ROH's golden period of 2005-7, my personal preference is ROH as that was the company I was watching during their golden period while shows from ECW's golden period that have been given a UK release were drip-fed out after the 1997-2001 PPVs, so for me it was the fact I was scouring the internet for news and eagerly awaiting the shows to hit DVD that make the ROH shows of that period mean more to me...and also make the company's current status utterly depressing

Statement #5: The age of the “dominant big man” in pro-wrestling is gone forever (at least in our lifetime). FACT - The monster heel has long been a relic of the territory days. Back then it was simple: monster heel shows up, bulldozes the roster for a bit, before eventually being vanquished by the top babyface before moving on to another territory to repeat the cycle. For the past twenty years the monster heel cycle has been more along the lines of show up, bulldoze the roster for a bit, get vanquished by the top babyface...and after that they're just there even though their aura of invincibility has long gone. Some people can transcend this, such as The Undertaker or Brock Lesnar, but for every one of them there's five Great Khalis or Vladimir Kozlovs

Statement #6: Beyond Wrestling’s weekly live online streaming show Uncharted Territory is a must watch. FACT - Variety is important to the wrestling scene, because 100 companies putting on an identical product is just going to leave 99 companies worse off than the market leader - but 100 companies offering 100 different products is important, as if a fan gets jaded with one company they can find another one and, you never know, they might just embrace that new company when they do

https://411mania.com/wrestling/411-wrestling-fact-or-fiction-is-the-busy-wrestling-tv-schedule-bad-for-the-indies/

[thesnootyushers]

We like our fan casts here at Snooty Ushers Towers, and now for the first time we jump into the majestic world of Warhammer.

Given the sources that have been mined over the years in order to provide material for films, in particular fantasy. It strikes me as odd that the Table Top Games produced by Games Workshop have never been adapted to a more visual medium. I am not sure if this is a choice on the part of the company , so as not to risk a film/televison vehicle flop like say Warcraft did. It could also be their just hasn’t been anyone willing or able to do it justice, given the scope and scale of the products range from high Fantasy to bleak war torn space and everything in between.

Whats more in 2001 the company even worked alongside New Line Cinema to bring A Lord of The Rings dice based games into their stores. Given the success of LOTR and now the popularity of shows such as Game of Thrones it’s just unusual that Games Workshop haven’t entered the proverbial cinematic battlefield.

The Games Workshop’s lore and worlds are phenomenal. Everything is backed up by incredible art, miniatures, clever gameplay and also its Fiction. Games Workshop have an immense collection of short stories, Novella, character bios and army books all designed to enhance the world of the game. This collection is dubbed the Black Library.

I am a collector and player of the Games workshop products. Mainly playing fantasy and have for years. When I was twelve and very much just getting into it I read and played as much as I could, building my knowledge of the world in which the game was set. Then I was recommended a Novel called Trollslayer….as you can guess it started something.

From then I followed the series and still do. I have now read everything save the last two publications which I have just started. Given my love for these two over the years and how I have been invested in them made me think that if anything could work as a film this could. So for about seven years I have considered this fan cast and now am finally going to give it life.

The Series

Gotrek Gurnisson, a Dwarf Slayer, and Felix Jaeger, his Human chronicler, are a duo of warriors traveling throughout the length and breath of the Old World, battling Dark Forces and stopping complots in Gotrek’s quest for a heroic death against a terrible foe. The adventures of these warriors have been written down in the series of books: “My Travels with Gotrek” by Master Felix Jaeger, which outlines Felix’s many adventures with his maniacal comrade throughout many of their endeavours, recording everything till the day Gotrek finally met his doom, and will finally be allowed to enter the halls of his ancestors.

The skills of these two heroes is near unequal in the known world, their deeds becoming near legendary in the eyes of many of their own people. Their exploits have led these two warriors to places only heard of in whispers and legend. Though sometimes considered vigilantes of the law, and sometimes having themselves locked up from the very people they tried to protect, such is the deeds these two have fulfilled in their twenty long years of battles. The forces of evil they encounter during their journeys will always be stopped, for these two are unrivaled in combat, and are considered one of the worlds most powerful heroes of the age, and many ages since.

The stories are violent action adventures, they encompass most of the different races and places within the World of Warhammer Fantasy. Tell me this wouldn’t be an incredible film and or TV series. The duo are an odd couple, but one that is pretty effective against the forces of evil.

The time they spend together they grow and change and their friendship is  believable. Mainly in the sense that it develops over 20 years and some horrendous moments of violence, loss and peril. It is very understated, no declarations of brotherhood or bombastic speeches. Just respect built over time and familiarity.

A major theme in the novels is the tension within Felix between his desire to settle down in peace and comfort, away from the danger of being Gotrek’s companion, and his longing to escape the banalities of civilized Imperial society for a life of heroism and adventure. It is this conflict that shaped much of his relationship with Gotrek.

There is so much depth and narrative meat you can sink your teeth into..it’s just amazing.

Backstory of Dwarven Slayers (as quoted in the Lexicanum) 

Dwarves in most fantasy lore are a proud race and do not cope easily with failure or dishonour. Should a Dwarf suffer some terrible personal tragedy like, the loss of his family, his hoard, or failure to uphold a promise can seriously unhinge the mind of any Dwarf. Whatever the cause, Dwarves who have suffered what they perceive to be a serious loss of honour and great shame will often forsake the Society for a life of self-imposed exile. These Dwarfs become Slayers.

Slayers seek death in combat in order to atone. Although they seek death, Dwarfs are incapable of deliberately fighting to lose, and so always enter the fray to win. Therefore Slayers spend as much time as possible improving their warrior skills.

Slayers deliberately seek uneven combat, for example by entering an Orc stronghold alone. The greater the odds, the more dangerous or numerous the enemy the more glorious the death. Their way of life weeds out all but the toughest and most determined warriors, so that those Slayers who survive for any period time are invariably exceptionally tough, violent, and extremely dangerous. Slayers are almost famous for dying their hair orange and shaping it into Large Crests. It’s one of the most identifiable features of a dwarf slayer.

Now before we start let me say these are just my thoughts and opinions, and what I would do if money were no option.

Gotrek Gurnisson

Gotrek is morose, taciturn and gruff. Even after years of travelling and fighting side by side he still refers to Felix as ‘manling’, though he respects him in other ways and values him more than any other human. Completely obsessed with finding his doom Gotrek is fearless in the face of any danger and actively seeks it out in order to fulfil his vow. He is a heavy drinker, able to consume amounts of alcohol that would kill a human. Though outcast from dwarven society he retains many dwarven qualities, including a lust for gold, mistrust and contempt for other races. The exact nature of Gotrek’s crime has never been explicitly revealed; like many Slayers, Gotrek considers his transgressions an intensely personal shame, and has threatened to kill those nosy enough to pry. However, some hints have been revealed over the course of the novels, though the authenticity of these sources is somewhat questionable.

His signature weapon is a battleaxe imbued with powerful rune magic called the Runemaster’s Axe and supposedly previously belonged to the dwarven deity Grimnir.

 Samoa Joe (Nuufolau Joel “Joe” Seanoa)

I know this will probably enrage the zealots and purists but just hear me out.

Gotrek is a Dwarf like no other he is bigger than an average dwarf, more powerful and he is unstoppable knot of fury and violence. With the Weta workshop magic, used in the hobbit to make Thorin’s Company, he is physically right for the part. Now having no real acting experience could be a setback, he has never really been tested on screen. That being said it hasn’t stopped Batista or the Rock, so it can work.

Not only this but sometimes less is more. Gotrek isn’t a talker, he is surly and gruff so maybe speaking less and using his body language and facial expressions etc could be equally as effective. Especially when he is alongside someone who is more of an experienced actor.  Look at a raging Samoa Joe with that ferocious snarl on his face as he is challenging or choking out an opponent. That’s Slayer right there.

Felix Jaeger

In contrast to Gotrek’s taciturn and absolutist mentality, Felix is a much more romantic, pragmatic figure. He frequently serves as the voice of logic and moral reason of the duo in order to remind Gotrek of the long-term consequences of his actions, and guide him towards greater heroism. He also finds himself serving in a more diplomatic role, helping to soothe bruised egos after Gotrek’s anti-authoritarian nature provokes people. Felix is also something of a womanizer, and forms several romantic relationships over the course of the series, most prominently with the Kislevite noblewoman (and eventual vampire) Ulrika Magdova.

Felix is a human with a swordman’s physique and long blond hair.  Over years of following Gotrek, Felix has become an accomplished swordsman and duellist. His own weapon is the rune sword Karaghul, a blade with a dragon hilt recovered from the fallen hold of Karak Eight Peaks

After a night of heavy drinking, Felix swore a blood oath to follow Gotrek on the Dwarf’s quest to find his doom in battle, promising to record it in an epic poem. The two have been companions ever since.

Domhnall Gleeson

Mandatory Credit: Photo by Startraks Photo/REX (3095555ac) Domhnall Gleeson ‘About Time’ film premiere at the 51st New York Film Festival, America – 01 Oct 2013

Versatile and off kilter,  this could be a different role for the talented young actor to play. He may need a  slight bit of training for the physicality but he can do commanding, funny, weird, awkward, nervous and evil without effort. He would be fantastic as Rememberer Felix.

This man starred in Richard Curtis Comedy Drama About Time, as Tech specialist in Ex Machina, a drug addict criminal in Dredd and a sociopath in Calvary.

It would be a nice anchor for Samoa Joe who would be very green but they could create that unusual chemistry and characterization that the story is built on. I reckon you could hit some hilarious comedy spots. Even if just for the fact you play off Joe as the Straight man.

Yes this is an unusual pairing but so are the characters they are playing and I think you could get a lot of mileage.

Now the supporters.

Snorri Nosebiter

Snorri Nosebiter is a long time friend of Gotrek, a Slayer who is also on his quest to seek his death in battle. Snorri was a friend of Gotrek long before they became slayers. Snorri’s personality is almost the opposite of Gotrek, while Gotrek is mostly serious and gloomy and has little respect for others, Snorri is always in a cheerful mood, slow to anger. But when he does he is a very formidable foe. He charges into battle swinging his axe and hammer. He is also much more ugly, having a cauliflower ear, a very broken nose, many scars and his most notable feature, three massive nails, painted orange, nailed into his bald head instead of a crest. He too is an unholy consumer of alcohol and a little mentally unbalanced.

Joseph Gilgun

Actor Joseph Gilgun on the red carpet of ‘Preacher’ during the 2016 SXSW Music, Film + Interactive Festival at Paramount Theatre on March 14, 2016 in Austin, Texas. Suzanne Cordeiro for American-Statesman

Now again I am thinking you would need that Weta Workshop Magic but I think there is no one better to play Snorri. This man is quirky, witty hilarious and another very talented actor have a solid resume. This is England, Misfits, Preacher, Pride and Harry Brown. He would bring something novel to the role and would work nicely against the unconventional leads.

Ulrika Magdova

Ulrika was Felix’s lover, and arguably his most beloved one. She first appeared during  the dwarven expedition through the Chaos Waste. She is the daughter of a Kislevite  Noble.  She is described as having close cropped hair, with furred and leather armour. She travels with  Gotrek and Felix on their jouney for a while. It was during this time that she was herself turned into a Vampire, due to the Vampire, Adolphus Krieger. Once he is stopped she leaves to follow her own path and was spun out into her own series.

Choice 1 – Melanie Laurent

Actress Melanie Laurent poses for photographers upon arrival for the screening of the film Inside Out at the 68th international film festival, Cannes, southern France, Monday, May 18, 2015. (Photo by Arthur Mola/Invision/AP)

Melanie is a beautiful, dynamic and sophisticated actress, she has a number of great French and American films Including Dikkenek, Days of Glory, Inglorious Basterds  and Je vais bien, ne t’en fais pas. Although she is slight she could readily handle the action and fit the role of warrior woman turned creature of the night. I also feel she could match wits and bounce off the other cast members especially Domhnall. 

Choice 2 – Katheryn Winnick

Having an extensive martial arts background and playing a viking warrior in the series  Vikings. Katheryn is more than ready for a part like this.

There are several more characters that could fit such as Max Schreiber, Malakai Makaisson and Grey Seer Thanquol. For now however I decided to just cast who I think would be the most important four. I may come back and cast other characters later on, who knows

There it is readers. If you agree tell me. If you don’t agree I am sure you will also let me know. Until next time. Stay Cool.

Warhammer Fan Cast – Gotrek and Felix: The Slayer Saga We like our fan casts here at Snooty Ushers Towers, and now for the first time we jump into the majestic world of Warhammer.

[thlayli-ra]

Stray (part 8)

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Larry, Samoa Joe, Ludwig Kaiser, Giovanni Vinci, Gunther

Pairing - CM Punk/Drew McIntyre, CM Punk/Samoa Joe (past)

AU - Stray AU

Rating - Mature

Warnings - Graphic depictions of violence and torture, blood

Words - ~4,700 words

Summary - Punk gets in over his head

(To celebrate bloodied CM Punk, here is some... bloodied CM Punk! 😁)

'PHIL! PHIIIIL!!!!'

Joe yelled into the blackness of the night but Punk was gone. His feet felt like they were stuck in quick-drying cement, trapping him in place while his mind whirred with what to do. Call the cops, it was screaming at him. If he won't do it then you do it. Call the damn cops!

They're all I have.

Joe hitched a breath at Punk's voice filtering through his thoughts. Words he had said to him just moments before. They're all I have.

Suddenly it made sense. Why he wouldn't get the police involved. A quick search would be all it took to find out that Drew was in the country illegally and they would pack him off home. Punk couldn't let that happen. He wanted to keep him. 'You selfish, selfish prick,' Joe muttered under his breath.

Just... watch them for me, ok? ..then I'll never ask for anything else again.

'Fine,' Joe acquiesced the phantom voice in his head. 'I'll watch them, but you'd better come back soon or else.'

Heading back inside, Joe started at the sight of Drew in the sitting room, looking around him in alarm. He circled his palms out in front of him then did the figure of eight on his chest. Where's Punk? Joe didn't answer straight away, instead closing the door behind him and locking it tight. Drew tried again, with more urgency this time.

'He's gone out, I'm not sure where exactly but-'

Drew barged past Joe towards the door and tried to haul it open. Panic gave him unspeakable power and he almost yanked the entire thing off its hinges in his desperation to follow Punk outside.

'Hey, woah, woah,' Joe tried to calm the frantic behemoth he had been tasked with babysitting, lost at how to soothe it. 'He's coming back. He said he'll be right back.'

But Drew wasn't buying it any more than Joe had. He shook his head and began banging the side of his palm against his temple, like he was a broken toy soldier wildly saluting his commander.

'I... I don't understand.'

Drew grabbed at his collar, practically choking himself as he displayed it to Joe then went back to saluting. Yet still, Joe wasn't catching on, all his usual logic blinded by the whole bizarre, frightening situation he found himself in.

'Just... come back in, Drew,' he tried to steady the ship, allow himself a chance to think straight. 'Sit down and we'll wait for him together and-'

Drew grabbed him, iron grips on his upper arms that even made a man-mountain like Joe wince. Their eyes locked, faces close as Drew furrowed his brows in deep concentration.

And his mouth began to move!

'D... d....'

'Holy shit...' Joe hushed out as Drew forced his neglected lips to try and form the word he needed.

'D...d-d-d....'

Joe knew. Knew what he was trying to say because the same word was blaring in his own ear like an air raid siren.

Danger!

Punk's apartment was dark. Carefully, he stepped over the mess at his feet, trying not to disturb anything with his cautious tread. The whole time ignoring the voice berating him at the back of his head, a voice that sounded exactly like Joe's. What are you doing? Are you crazy? What the hell are you doing?

They had to come back. He knew it in his gut. That's what they always did, come back to the scene of the crime. Everybody knew that. But looking around, he found no sign of change or disturbance, everything was still.

He passed by his kitchenette, purposefully ignored the dining table to his left with its gruesome shrine upon it. He thought he could hear the blood still drip, drip, dripping off the edge onto the floor but that might have just been his overactive imagination, high on adrenaline. It had been a lot of blood. He wondered who or what had donated it.

Thnnk!

Punk crouched down low. It had come from upstairs. He stalled his breathing to listen. No doubt about it, there was footsteps coming from the floor above.

He was right!

They were here!

The wraps around his hands creaked as he balled his fingers up into tight fists, holding them in front of him like a shield. He passed by his sofa-bed where Drew had slept peacefully the night before, passed the coffee table where Drew had kindly left him his last muffin towards the staircase. Deliberately lowering each sole down silently as he twisted his way up and up.

It had clicked back in Joe's garden. The house had never been Drew's sanctuary - it was Punk himself! He had been his fingers that had freed him from the muzzle, his arms that had held him close when he'd been afraid and now his fists would rid him of his captors forever.

Reaching the upper level, Punk followed the muffled sound of voices to his master bedroom. Inching his way towards the door, he suddenly wished he had a baseball bat or something to use as a weapon but it was too late. He had to make do with-

The door opened! And a man walked out!

The two of them jumped at the sight of each other but Punk recovered sooner and swung. His right. A savage hook. The man went down. Out cold. Muttering a curse under his breath, Punk shook out his arm, trying to ignore the slight ache that radiated from his recovering tricep. Still got it!

He looked over the intruder and immediately recognised him as one of the men who'd knocked on his door earlier. 'Knew you guys weren't fucking cops,' he muttered icily to the unresponsive blonde. That meant the other was around here somewhere.

'Ludwig?' The voice came from inside Punk's bedroom. Flattening himself against the wall, he listened as heavy footsteps lumbered towards the door. He had enough time to spit out the word 'merda' before Punk lunched, aiming another right hook. Horrific flashbacks to his championship loss came flooding back as the bald man ducked low, Punk's fist skating harmlessly over his head.

But Punk was wiser these days, knew what was coming next and changed his body position in an instant to defend against the tackle to his gut, thwarting the take-down. Snaring his opponent's head in a choke-hold, Punk rammed his elbows into the man's spine, trying to force him to his knees. Ground and pound, you know this routine, ground and pound.

Unfortunately, the man was no rookie to combat and managed to slam his own fist into Punk's gut. Doubling over, Punk tried to ignore the terrible cramps in his stomach as yet another blow pummelled his abdomen. When another caught him right on the diaphragm, winding him badly, he had no choice but to relinquish the hold and back off to regroup.

Too late, he realised that Joe had been right. Joe was always right. This wasn't a cage fight. There no rules, no relegations, no officials. And no respite. The bald man came charging for him again and Punk had no option but to meet him head-on despite the agony flooding his guts. Locking horns, the two men tussled, ramming one another into walls and doors, trying to dislodge the other.

Punk was forced back against the bannister, his foe's hand pushing down on his face and bending his spine painfully over the handrail. Out the corner of his eye he could see his living area far below, pooled in murky darkness like the mouth of the abyss itself. The hand drove down ruthlessly. Punk nearly lost his footing but caught hold of the wooden balusters to stop himself falling over and plummeting to the floor below.

The struggle continued, Punk's hope dwindling as the ache in his injured arm became unbearable. It was then he spotted their stances and saw his chance. Driving his leg up, he whacked his opponent square between his open legs. The man squealed, falling like a sack of bricks and Punk was freed from his peril.

With his foe on his knees, the cage-fighter attacked. Jabbing and punching until blood spilled freely down the bald man's face. Yet still he would not surrender. Fighting back with his own strikes, Punk was forced to retreat when the man successfully managed to wrap his arms around Punk's waist.

Quickly, Punk widened his stance to stop the take-down and both men wrestled for dominance. Fuck! This guy is strong! Punk cursed, aware that his own body was running out of adrenaline and starting to fail. You stupid, stupid old man!

Punk hammered his fist into the other man's kidneys, his blows becoming slow and sluggish, but he put what strength he could behind them. The fake cop responded by ramming his shoulder into Punk's gut, squishing it against the unforgiving surface of the wall. A pocket of something wet and metallic leapt up Punk's throat and began to drip from the corner of his mouth. At first he was convinced it was vomit but when he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand and saw the red smear on his wraps, his worst fears were confirmed.

That's not good!

His foe bulldozed into him again and Punk's knees gave out. His opponent wriggled free and without his support, Punk fell onto all fours, coughing up frothy bubbles of bloody saliva. Come on! Get up! GET UP!

He did. Wobbled up onto his feet like a drunk, swaying from side-to-side, blood pouring down his shirt. His opponent was enraged. Furious at Punk's defiance, he let out a roar and rushed for him. But Punk did not fight back. Instead, he ducked down out of harm's way. The man hit thin air and tripped over Punk, losing his balance.

Right at the top of the staircase!

Punk looked back and saw the panic in the man's eyes as he failed to right himself, feeling the momentum pulling him backwards into nothing. Reaching out, Punk tried to grab him but it was too late and the man fell. Sickening crunches tore throughout through the silent apartment as he tumbled the entire length to the bottom.

Punk ran to the banister and peered down below. He could see his foe, lying face-up on his sitting area floor. He wasn't moving.

'Sssssshit!' Punk cursed and rushed down the staircase, carefully stepping over the man's legs which were splayed on the bottom-most rungs. 'Shit! Shit! Are you alright?'

No answer fell from the man's lips. Hanging as loose as his eyelids, his pupils large and black as they stared up into the void. His chest still while a grisly pool of dark liquid spread out beneath him.

Punk grabbed his own hair by the roots, glanced back up at the spiralling grey structure of wood and steel. Joe had been right after all. 'Fucking death trap stairs!'

What did he do now? He'd just killed a man! Or at least, there was a dead man in his apartment. That he'd just killed. Or had he? He kinda killed himself. It was an accident, he'd been acting in self-defence but would anybody believe that? Did it matter? He couldn't just leave a dead guy on his sitting room floor. He had to do something, he had to call somebody, but... he couldn't call the cops because they'd ask why the intruders were here and then they'd find out about Drew and take him away and-

'Eh-hem!'

The sound of somebody loudly clearing their throat directly behind him made every drop of Punk's blood grind to a halt in his veins. Turning around, he faced down one of the largest men he'd ever seen. As wide and as thick as Joe but taller. Big! Too big!

The man sharply cried out in a foreign language, some kind of command and swiftly folded his hands behind his back. Punk blinked like a little minnow hypnotised by the anglerfish's lure.

He never even saw the strike coming. So quick was the blow to his head that he was knocked out long before his body collided with his own coffee table.

'Drew, I understand you're scared. I am too. But Punk said he would be right back.'

The Scot was refusing to back down, kept tapping his forehead over and over. 'D-d-d-d-d-d-' But he couldn't get the word out. Drew began smacking the butts of his palms against his forehead in frustration.

'Danger, I know!' Joe cut in, letting the taller man know he understood. 'Those men hunting you are dangerous, I get that, but Punk's only going to the convenience store.' Joe felt terrible using the same feeble lie that his ex had given him earlier. 'He's getting some supplies then he'll be back. He promised.'

Drew put down his hands, his large barrel chest heaving up and down with panicked breaths. He swallowed noisily before raising his right arm again. Making the figure of eight on his chest with his thumb, he followed it with the shape of an 'x' using his finger. Punk promised?

'Yeah,' Joe tried to mimic the two signs. 'He promised.' The tide was starting to turn, Drew was calming down. He was nearly there. 'Drew... do you trust him?' The Scotsman's blue eyes blinked, thick dark eyelashes fluttering as he glancing up sheepishly at Joe.

Cat paw.

'Do you believe him?' Another long, hard stare.

Cat paw.

It suddenly hit Joe how well he knew that look in Drew's face. The fear and anxiety that always seemed to go hand-in-hand with a certain tattooed cage-fighter. He found himself feeling a fresh pang of concern, something altogether more wicked in its nature.

Drew... do you... love him?

He didn't dare ask aloud. In case he got an answer he sorely did not want to hear.

'Come on then, come sit down,' Joe motioned back towards his sitting room. 'I'll make us some fresh coffee and we can wait for him to get back. He shouldn't be long.'

Now, he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Drew or convince himself. After coaxing the large Scotsman down onto his couch, Joe disappeared into the sanctity of his kitchen. He went through his breathing exercises, old, familiar routines that had become second nature to him by now but at that moment, they weren't working. His hands were still shaking. His mind replaying that moment he'd seen Punk go down in the cage. Only when Joe rushed to his side, his eyes were still shut. His hair was short and speckled with greys, the wrinkles on his face more pronounced. And blood began flowing from his nose and mouth...

Joe rapidly made the coffees and returned to Drew. With someone else to take care of, he could occupy his anxiety. The pair sat quietly, the coffee turning cold in their untouched cups.

'I should have moved out of here months ago.'

Joe didn't know what prompted him to speak. Perhaps just a need to break the stifling silence before it suffocated him completely. 'Told myself it was only for a little while. A month or two. Just to make sure he was alright.'

Drew's blue eyes were on him, still large with worry. He couldn't bring himself to look at them. 'I just... never did. I'm still lingering on... still stuck. Like I was when we were together.

'We both agreed that when we got older, started to wind down, we'd retire and move back to SoCal. Punk was champion at the time but he told me that once he lost the belt, we'd talk again. He loses it. We don't talk. We spend two years together in semi-retirement, two amazing, blissful years... then he says he wants another shot. I'm disappointed but, I love him, I support him. So yes, go for it. I've got your back.

'He gets injured. I'm devastated for him but I'm also hoping, deep down, that maybe this time, we could look into new places. He says not now. His doctor is here, his surgeon is here, his PT is here. Fair enough, his foot was badly broken and I want him to heal so...

'He gets better. He says he had unfinished business. He needs to win his championship back. We fight. I give in and say ok. So he enters the cage. Tears his tricep. I say now, come on, this is a sign. You're over. You're done. He walks out. He's gone all night and I'm frantically calling the cops thinking he's done something stupid but he it turns out, he was just at Ace's and I'm so fucking angry with him. I call him a selfish motherfucker and every other curse under the sun. I get it all out of my system and I calm down. I tell him we'll stay until his tricep is healed. He says ok. And that's that.'

Joe sniffed loudly. He had no idea he'd been crying. Drew was looking at him with so much pity it hurts.

'Then he starts talking about one last chance. He just needs one last run and... it suddenly dawns on me. He was never gonna leave. Fighting is all he's ever cared about, it's all he's ever had. Nothing else will ever compare to it.' Joe took a deep gulp, wet tears spilling down his cheeks. 'Not even me.'

Drew dipped his head, levelled his eyes to the ground to give Joe some space to release his grief.

'So I left him. He didn't take it well. He was angry at first but when he realised I wasn't joking, he spiralled into this black hole. I've never seen him so bad. So I got this place, said I'd be around if he needed me, help him get back on his feet. And here I am, nearly eight months later and I'm still just sitting here in limbo. Still waiting... for him.'

Punk awoke to a world of groggy pain. His head felt like it was on the brink of bursting like a gory balloon, the swelling pushing into the back of his eyes. There was a ringing in his ear, a high pitched screech like the kind he'd have after seeing a local punk rock band play, the terrible noise adding fuel to his throbbing headache.

His vision was blurry but he recognised his sitting room, which was a small comfort, even if he was viewing it from a unfamiliar angle. However, the fear started up when he spied the stranger pacing in front of his large windows. Not the tall, dark-haired angel with the blue eyes that he'd scooped up off the street but one with a fierce grimace and a long, dark military coat that snapped every time he turned around.

He didn't seem to notice Punk in the room with him, so the cage-fighter took the opportunity to slink away but found to his horror that he was stuck fast. Looking up, he discovered both of his arms were tied firmly to the balusters of his staircase. A loud sting on his brow bellowed, making him wince against the stickiness of dried blood smearing his face from forehead to jaw.

His heart kicked up several notches, finally understanding the terrible danger he was in. A plight that only got worse when another figure entered his apartment - the blonde cop from earlier, now sporting an impressive black eye that Punk guessed was his own handiwork. The blonde began talking in a foreign language (it sounded European, German perhaps?) when the huge man cut him off.

'In English, Ludwig.' Then he looked directly at Punk. He wanted him to hear!

The blonde - Ludwig - cleared his throat and started over. 'I've wrapped Giovanni's body in the tarpaulin and stored it in the van, General. Thatcher is on his way to dispose of it.'

'Good,' the other man said, never taking his eyes off of Punk. The cage-fighter tugged weakly at his bonds, trying to break free but they had no give at all.

'Do not struggle,' the large man ordered, his voice punching right through Punk's aching skull. 'Do not fight, or you will join Giovanni at the bottom of the lake.' Punk stopped, but only because he could see it was useless. He would have to think of another way out of this predicament. 'Ludwig?'

The blonde took over, stepping smartly towards Punk with his hands behind his back and a smug air of superiority. 'You will answer my questions. Once you do, we will leave and you will never see us again.'

Yeah, right! Punk wasn't buying it.

'Where is the Scotsman?'

Punk glared back with gritted teeth and was punished with a brutal back-hand to his cheek. His head snapped to the side as Ludwig repeated the question again. 'Where is the Scotsman?'

'Don't know,' Punk said, running his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all still there, well, except for the one that was already missing. 'Guy took one look at the mess you made in here and took off. Haven't seen him since.'

Another blow, a harsh slap to his other cheek. 'I know you are lying.'

'You don't know shit.'

A punch this time and fuck, that hurt! Almost knocked Punk's jaw right out of joint.

'No more to the face, Ludwig,' the larger man warned with a growl. The blonde replied with a 'yes, General' and continued his interrogation.

'We know you left together early this afternoon. Where is he now?'

Punk allowed himself a small glimmer of hope that they hadn't seen them going to Joe's place. 'I told ya already, I don't know,' Punk retorted.

Ludwig punched Punk right in the gut. The bruises from his earlier fight with Giovanni exploded like cluster bombs, spreading bursts of pain throughout his abdomen. With his arms pinned above him, Punk couldn't bend over to relieve the pressure and had to endure the horrific cramping in his gut, trying to breath through the agony in short, jagged pants.

'I expect the truth this time. Where is the Scotsman?'

'Fuck you,' Punk croaked. Another gut punch and Punk started coughing up blood again. That was the least of his worries. Ludwig had turned his attention to Punk's left hand. One-by-one, he tapped each of the cage-fighters inked digits, all of them turning blue from the tightness of the rope wrapped around his wrists.

'Ene mene miste,' Ludwig muttered under his breath. 'Es rippelt in der kiste, ene mene meck, und du bist weg.' He settled on Punk's pinkie finger and held it taut in his fist. Punk only managed to grab a breath before his finger was bent back fiercely, breaking the fragile joint with a loud snap! Punk screamed, his face twisted with the shock and pain while neither of his captors blinked an eye.

'Where is the Scotsman? Or I break another.'

'Ok, ok,' Punk hissed between his teeth. 'I get it. Look.' He motioned upwards with his head, Ludwig followed his gaze. 'You see this one?'

Punk stuck up his middle finger.

Unamused, Ludwig snagged it in his fist.

Snap!

'AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!'

'Where is the Scotsman?'

Punk spat at his captor in reply, hurling a large, wet glob of blood and spit that splattered across his face and dripped down his cheek. The smug, calm mask evaporated, a tight snarl took over and Ludwig grabbed Punk by the jugular, cutting off his air supply.

'I still have eight of your fingers left to break then I will move on to another piece of you and break it too. Now, tell me. Where is the Scotsman?'

Punk struggled to gasp in a breath, his face turning scarlet.

'Ludwig!'

The blonde stood down at the order and stepped away, keeping his cold, hard stare on Punk who coughed and spluttered, trying to heave some oxygen into his empty lungs. Clawing dread tore down his spine when the larger man stepped forward and he knew his dire situation was about to get far, far worse.

'I knew you would be a tough one to break,' the so-called 'General' said in his brash accent. He was holding something in his hands, large and shiny. Punk recognised his old championship belt in its glass case. 'You're a fighter? A champion. Me too, back home in Austria. I defended it all over Europe. Retired unbeaten.'

Before Punk could blink, the man rushed at him, glass case raised above his head like a club. Holding his breath, Punk braced himself for the blow, stuck fast as the titan thundered towards him. Punk yelped as the case smashed directly above his head and shards of glass fell like hail onto his bloodied face and shoulders, getting stuck in his hair.

But there was no pain. It hadn't touched him - just a ploy to scare him.

And it had worked!

Punk trembled from head to foot, creaking his eyes open again to find the General looming over him, blood dripping from the hand where the glass had sliced his skin. He didn't even seem to notice.

'Now tell me where my slave is?'

'Your... your what?'

The bloodied hand grabbed Punk by the chin, smearing fresh blood through his beard. 'The Scot. Where is he?'

Something about hearing that word being used to describe Drew, confirming the fears that Punk knew deep down but was loathe to admit, ignited the cage-fighter's rage and he stared down his tormentor with his brow furrowed and teeth bared.

'Fuck you, you son-of-a-bitch!'

The General stared back stoically, unmoved by Punk's outburst. His gruesome hand trickled down from Punk's jaw to the collar of his shirt and shredded the fabric, slicing it down the middle like he was gutting a wriggling fish. The painted skin of Punk's chest was exposed and examined expertly, the General placing his finger right on the centre between Punk's pecs.

Then he drew back his hand...

Every single muscle in Punk's body tensed up.

The blow sent him crashing against his own staircase, his spine colliding with the hard wood. Any air he had gulped back into his lungs were flushed out and Punk felt himself begin to suffocate. He was given no opportunity for respite, blow after blow pounding against his battered torso, cracking a new rib with each brutal strike.

By the time the onslaught finally came to an end, Punk hung like a mangled piece of meat from the butcher's hook, mouth drooping open as his shattered chest tried to catch air. Each raspy breath stung like a knife slicing between his ribs. His chin was grabbed again, fingers digging into his jawbone.

'How about now? Now, will you tell me where my slave is?'

Despite the fear, despite the pain, Punk laughed. A loud, obnoxious laugh. 'You empty-headed fucking dumb fuck!' he sneered in his tormentor's face. 'You really think this is working? You have no fucking idea. I'm from the cage. I know pain! I've broken my fucking fingers during a fight and kept on punching. Whatever you dish out, I can take.'

The General tilted his head back, narrowing his eyes.

'But the more you hurt me, the more you convince me...' a glob of blood dribbled from Punk's lips, sticky crimson staining his teeth, 'that I'm never gonna let your ugly ass take him again.' He paused to grab a strangled breath, letting his words sink in. 'So I guess, you're just gonna have to kill me, because I'm never gonna tell you where he is.'

The hold on his chin became unbearable and Punk tried to calm his stampeding heart, waiting for the end to come.

But then... his captor began to chuckle. 'You hear that Ludwig? He said to kill him. He makes the orders now.' The blonde gave a snide grin but nothing more. 'No, no, no, no,' the General shook his head. 'No, I am the one in charge here.' He pulled Punk in close, so close the cage-fighter could smell his foul breath. 'And I don't want to kill you. I actually quite like you. You're a lot of fun. I think we should have more fun together, do you agree?'

The General placed his thumb against Punk's lips, pressed them through and into his mouth. Punk could taste the acidy tang of the other man's blood on his tongue as the strange digit hooked itself around his bottom teeth.

'You won't tell me where I can find my slave? Fine! Then you will take his place.'

To be continued...

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