Hi there! My name is Kayleigh, but most call me Kay. I write fanfiction and drabbles for mostly AEW and Impact Wrestling, with a heavy emphasis usually on original character interaction. I am open for requests that I feel comfortable for, depending on the character and the universe! Feel free to ask if I write a character if requesting pieces!
MASTERLISTS:
26 Days of Author's Birthday (Complete)
Kinktober 2024 Masterlist (Incomplete)
Whumptober 2024 Masterlist (Incomplete)
Fluffvember 2024 Masterlist (Complete)
12 Days of Christmas 2024 Masterlist (Complete)
Whumpuary 2025 Masterlist (Incomplete)
Fluffbruary 2025 Masterlist (Complete)
I do have a list that I will not write for that includes:
Jimmy Havoc
Jack Sexsmith
David Starr
Sammy Guevara
Joey Ryan
Michael Elgin
Dave Crist
Marty Scurll
Jay Lethal
Jack Gallagher
Jordan Devlin/JD McDonagh
Matt Riddle
El Ligero
Velveteen Dream
Saraya
Austin Theory
Blair Davenport
Brian Pillman Jr
Chase Owens
Kimber Lee
Logan Paul
Logan Stunt
Nia Jax
Rhonda Rousey
Teddy Hart
Tessa Blanchard
Travis Banks
It was supposed to be a good night, Archer Harrison told himself as he ducked behind one of the concrete support pillars that helped to hold up the ceiling of the innermost part of the press box at Titan Stadium. The sun had long since set, the bright stadium lights illuminating the green astroturf of the field. A night game was just what he had needed to set the rest of the weekend on the right path. He had planned to drink an ice cool ballpark beer and eat a warm ballpark frank as he enjoyed taking notes on the Titan City Shockwave versus Silverdale Steelhawks game so that he could finish his write up for the Titan City Gazette, the paper he worked for. It was 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 to be a good night.
As yet another explosion rocked the arena, Archer Harrison realized that he was never going to be able to finish the write up for the game.
The game had been just fine at the start, nothing too out of the ordinary. The first sign that something was wrong had been the whispers that one of the players in the visiting teams dugout was feeling physically sick. Even then, Archie had heard about people getting sick in the box. As the game went longer and longer, there had been more stories of members of the visiting Silverdale Steelhawks coming down with something. Archie wondered when the game would get cancelled, but after an inning passed with no news, Archie chalked it up to something that the visitors had eaten instead. That was until the top of the seventh inning.
Jacari Ball, the second baseman for the Steelhawks, had stepped up to the plate to anticipate the pitch from Titan City hometown boy Dorian Van Dux. The first pitch had been straight down the center, a solid strike from Van Dux. Jacari tapped the end of his bat against the home plate, pointing it out towards the crowd as he called his shot for a homerun. The large stadium screen that hung above the audience showed Jacari's face and Archie noticed the wince that passed over the young man's face. In fact, there seemed to be an unnatural amount of sweat covering his face as the second strike sailed safely past the young man's bat. The hunk of wood hit the dirt at home base as it was dropped, the form of Jacari Ball following it into the dirt. The knees of his eggshell pants hit the dirt, the young man's hands spread out shoulder width apart in front of him. He was going to throw up, Archie was sure of it.
Dear god, as Archie peeked out from his hiding spot he wished that all that had happened was Ball had gotten sick.
One of the umpired tossed his mask off, rushing over to check on the downed young man. Archie leaned forward in his seat as the umpire placed his hand on Ball's back, only to pull it away just as quickly as something seemed to be very, very wrong. Archie's eyes cut from the small figures on the field to the large screen to try and figure out why. The young man's face waivered for a moment before the skin split down the center with a spattering of both blood and bile. From the wound, a new head emerged, one that was neither human nor any sort of animal Archie had ever seen in his life. The head was almost apelike in its shape, long and slender, until the area of the mouth. There was no nose, just a flat where two slits acted as nostrils. The mouth extended on either side like the mandibles of an ant, lined with sharp barbs that Archie could only assume were teeth.
"H…how many players were sick?" one of the reporters in the seat in front of him asked as the rest of the monster pushed its way forward from the shell like body that had once been one of the best baseball players in the country. The thing that sat there on haunches like those of a grasshopper in the way they bent, but if the grasshopper were the size of a horse, was grotesque. The body was just as massive as the rest of th it, with the smoothness of a seal if it had been given the spines of a spinosaurus.
"Six," Archie answered in a hushed tone, "there were six of them…"
As the being lunged at the umpire, the stadium exploded into complete chaos. It's massive legs propelled the beast onto the umpire, mandibles curling around the man's midsection to snap him in half. Blood sprayed across teh green astroturf as the other beings bounded from the area that had once been the dugout. Two leaped into the stands, biting and snapping their jaws as the stadium was thrown into a state that could only be described as a stampede. Pushing, shoving, screaming as people tried to leave the stadium before they were able to become victims to whatever these things were. As Archie's heart pounded hard in his chest, pushing himself away from the desk and the laptop he knew his work would replace, he at least felt solace that it was only six members of the away team who were turning into monsters.
As one of his fellow reporters also doubled onto the ground, Archie felt stupid in his hope. Whatever was going on with Silverdale was going on with 𝐚𝐥𝐥 of Silverdale, and they were now making it all of Titan City's problem. Archie was the first to push himself away from the desk, ushering the others towards a safe exit. Footfalls were heavy from the masses as the concourse, the scent of fear was as palpable in the air as popcorn and the scent of body over body. He knew he couldn't make it as quickly as the others, the injury he had sustained to his leg during his time on the soccer pitch that had sent his career to behind the sports desk instead of on the pitch made movements slower these days. The last of the reporters, save for himself and the creature that was breaking through skin, managed to rush onto the concourse as Archie ducked behind the support beam.
"This is it, Archer Harrison," he muttered to himself as he hid, hand clamped over his mouth to stop any sound from escaping as the beast began to shuffle around the cramped room. The low clicking sound of pincers clacking against one another seemed to grow louder, even amidst the screams of the panicked crowd. It was times like this that Archie wished he had been born extraordinary. If he were anything like either of his best friends, born with wings like that of the osprey or with the ability to draw the very stars themselves from the sky to shoot their concentrated light like an arrow, Archie knew he could stand up to a being like this. In his mind, he would have had superstrength, durability to withstand monsters like these.
Yet here he was feeling both helpless and hopeless as the head of the massive beast poked itself forward past the concrete support beam. Archie could see his reflection in one of the beasts large black eyes, the feeling of dread filling his chest as he realized that his final moments had been spent at a stadium for a game that he wasn't even particularly fond of. His final moments were being spent behind a pillar hiding from a creature he couldn't even really name was spent silently begging whatever deity would listen to spare his life in the chaos.
On pure instinct, Archie pushed himself away from the wall in an attempt to run from his impending doom. He expected to be pulled in half much as the umpire had been, not expecting the monster to propel itself forward on powerful legs to land in front of him. Archie cursed out loud when his leg gave out, sending him sprawling to the concrete floor. Breathing caught in the pit of his chest as the point of one of the insectoid legs pressed itself into his stomach, the monstrously grotesque face leaning in close. The rancid smell of the beast's breath loomed closer and closer until, finally, with a passing sense of warmth and light, it was over.
With a shower of blood the color of dark sapphire, the monster shuddered as it fell to the side in defeat.
Archie blinked in surprise, propping his elbows up on the concrete and pushing himself into a sitting position to try and catch a glimpse of his savior. Eyes scanned the area above the diamond, a small smile crossing his face as he saw the source of his salvation. The only way to describe the being was that of an angel. "𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆," Archie murmured to himself as he took in the form of the other, "𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒈𝒆𝒎 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒔." The figure was small and feminine in frame, small enough that Archer would have otherwise wondered how such a small woman could have caused damage so big if not for her skin. The whiteish blue hue shone in a pearlescent blue in the stadium lights, as radiant as a diamond that had just been pulled from a mine. In fact, as Archer studied it longer, he realized that her skin was diamond. The outfit she wore could only be described as a body suit, strapless and form fitting, its rosy-pink color offsetting the diamond pearlescence of her skin in both her outfit and the mask she wore around her eyes that concealed her identity.
"Are you okay, sir?" the woman flitted like a hummingbird into the small room, eyes coasting from the monster she had somehow slain to Archie, who was very shakily pushing himself from his sitting position into a standing one. Her high heeled pink boots clicked as she touched down onto the concrete, but they didn't seem to make her any taller. The top of her head hit just above Archie's stomach if he was being a bit more than fair about her height. After a moment, when he hadn't responded, the woman asked again, "Sir?"
"How in the bloody hell did you…what the bloody hell are…" Archie could feel his hands shaking at his side, knee burning with pain. His chest beat hard, eyes welling up with scared tears. He didn't understand, he didn't think he wanted to understand in truth. "Who the bloody hell are you?!"
The woman looked down at her appearance, giving a small chuckle as from the top of her hands, her skin began to change from that of the living diamond to that of a human. She let the change take hold before pulling on a pair of pink gloves that matched her body suit, "Crown Jewel. You're welcome, by the way."
Archie's shaking hands planted themselves onto her hips, trying to catch his breath from the entire ordeal as he tried to remember his own manners, "Archie. Archie Harrison. Thank you, for saving my life."
"Are you alright, Archie?" the blonde asked, head cocked to the side with a small smile. It made her long blonde hair, curled towards the bottom, touch her pink shoulders, "Other than obviously shaken. Did it hurt you?"
"I…uh…my knee, but that's a pressing issues," Archie ran his hands over his face, instantly regretting it as the beast's blood was smeared across his face. He might have been saved by the diminutive diamond dynamo, but the screams of terror reminded him that there were plenty of these things ruining what could have been a perfect night, "People are…there are more of these things…you should…"
"I have a team helping me, they're on it," Crown reassured as she put a hand on Archie's arm. It wasn't until then that he could feel the warmth emanating from her, as warm as the overhead lights that illuminated the stadium, "Are you going to be okay?"
"Light concentration," Archie murmured to himself, as if he couldn't hear the second half of the question, looking at the monster with the sizzling hole in its rough body, "that's how you…"
"Saved your life?" she giggled in return, "Don't act so surprised, loverboy. Now, I'll ask again. Are you going to be safe if I let you walk out of here?"
Archie turned his head, looking out over the empty area of concourse, noting that for all its panic, whomever her team was comprised of had been swift on obtaining order, "I'll make it. I'll…are you going to…I need a fucking shower…"
There was that giggle, bright and shining like the brilliance of a diamond, "I mean, i wasn't going to say it."
Archie couldn't help the sharp bark of a laugh that left his lips, despite the shakiness to his body and the hot tears still in his eyes, "I'll be fine. I'll be bloody fine. Go, miss. Save the world."
From her standing position, the woman rose into the air in flight, hovering off the ground in front of him. A gentle smile took Archie's lips as he watched her fly off into the night, brightening as she looked over her shoulder at him, blowing a kiss, before her skin once against changed into its diamond form. It was then Archie made a decision. Sports? Who needed bloody sports?
His article for tomorrow's edition would be much more interesting.
There were only two nights that Lillie Cueto could remember the exact configuration of the stars as she gazed up at the cosmos above.
The first was the night that she had been forced to unmask from the position she loved as a hero to the people. The gold and purple luchador style mask that had been passed down to her from the mentor who had become more of a father to her than her own had ever been meant everything to Lillie Cueto. The moniker of El Enganador was one that afforded Lillie more freedom than ever before, even if it did come with a mask. That mask had simply meant that no one could judge her as the daughter of one of the most notorious crime bosses the world had known. Enganador gave Lillie the ability to be judge for her actions instead.
Every time that Lillie felt her shoulder click she was reminded of the night that the mask had been forcefully ripped from her face. The spot in the center of her back still ached when she thought about that night, as if she could still feel the point of the brute's knee as he held her tight. Her faced burned in shame as she thought about the thick, masculine fingers that slid underneath the fabric of the gold and purple mask, yanking it up and over her head. As she had glanced up through her long black hair that had been freed from the confines of the mask that had become her solace, Lillie had caught the way her captor had looked silhouetted against the night sky. It was as inky as the shadows that covered her mouth to stop her screams at the man she called her mentor over the com system inside of her mask, as cold as the fact that her unmasking would mean that she could never go into the world as Enganador ever again.
Later on, when Lillie searched for any semblance of hope to hold on to about that night, she would find out that the collection of stars that shined down on her was called the Andromeda constellation. It felt almost fitting, knowing that the stars that gazed down at her as the Devil ruined her life were named for a princess who was chained to a rock to be eaten by a sea monster. Both she and the Grecian princess knew the horror of being restricted by men, used as a bargaining chip for the whims of those who claimed divinity. Both of their lives changed on the day that they were rescued. Andromeda, after being saved by Perseus from the rocks she was chained against, was able to marry the man and become a queen in her own right. When The Devil and his minions had gotten what they wanted, the mask of her mentor the original Enganador, they had simply set her free. Lillie supposed, in a way, they had both become queens in their grief and trauma. Andromeda had gotten her own kingdom, Lillie had taken over the legitimate side of her father's business.
Tonight was the first time in a long time that Lillie had managed to care what the night sky looked like, and that's what let her know that something life-changing was going to happen.
Lillie wasn't sure what she had noticed first about tonight, when she was leaving the subway station. It could have been the way that the streetlights all seemed to flicker on at once. It had been a long time since she had watched the city come to life as the sun set. Work kept her busy in the office, tucked away in her corner of the world for far longer than sunset on most days. The streetlights and the lights from the windows of buildings were the only lights that illuminated the world around her on her way home most days. There was a simple sort of joy to seeing the night come to life, a light that had long since been lost from her eyes.
Just like the light that no one else seemed to notice glowing from a nearby alley. Her time as a hero had taught Lillie that the world often chose not to pay attention, and she would never understand why, but she supposed if they did heroes would no longer be needed. Lillie knew she should ignore the glow. She wasn't a hero anymore. It wasn't up to her to do anything to protect the people passing through. Yet, there was a familiar twitch in her fingers that seemed unable to go away. That light was accompanied by a thrum, barely audible under the rhythm of the city as she stood at the mouth of the otherwise darkened alley. She ignored the little voice in the back of her head that screamed out that every inch of this seemed to be a bad idea, feet moving slowly to propel her into the alley.
After all, if she needed to run, it wasn't as if the ability to access her super speed had left her body. She simply did not use that talent to pull of any feats of heroics anymore.
The light was brighter in this alley than it should have been for this time of day, Lillie noted as her chocolate eyes glanced up at the sky above her. The sun had disappeared behind the tall skyscrapers, blacking out any of the beams that would have cast their rays on the ground. The purple hues of the sky were slowly starting to bleed into an inky blackness and, for the first time in a long time, Lillie's already rapid heartbeat began to pick up its pace. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒑 that little voice at the back of her brain asked again, sounding very much like Rafael's had once sounded in the commlink hidden in the fabric of her mask.
"Stop," she muttered out loud to herself, eyes glancing around for the source of the light, "It's light, not darkness. It isn't them."
It wasn't long until Lillie realized that the light shining down was in fact a concentrated beam, reaching from behind one of the large metal dumpsters straight into the air. There was an ethereal gleam, as if a moonbeam from a moon that was just starting to rise had fully concentrated into one singular beam. Motes of silver swirled within the light blue, no different in visual than dust swirling in the early morning sun. Even as every inch of her brain screamed that it was a bad idea, Lillie walked to reach out her hand to bathe it in the beam before her, to see if it felt as beautiful on her skin as it looked in the darkness.
Her footsteps echoed as she tentatively approached the dumpster, trying to control her breathing as she tried to assess the situation. There was a rustle of sound from inside of the bin and every accelerated cell in her body seemed to be preparing to run. Instead, she planted her feet as she stood on the side of the large metallic box. Her head peeked over the top of the bin, trying to see what was making the noise. Best case scenario was that it was a rat or a pigeon. Animals weren't out of the question in the city, even if they weren't as common as in the suburbs. Worst case scenario…well…it wouldn't have been the first time that Lillie had wandered across a person needing their own privacy.
Nothing would have prepared Lillie for the sight of the woman who laid on the ground in that purified beam of light. At least Lillie assumed that the figure who laid there was a woman. It presented as a woman, more importantly it presented as a 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 woman. It hadn't taken Lillie long to put two and two together to realize exactly what she was looking at. The beam of light, the womanly form sprawled across the pavement of the alleyway. This was a visitor that came from somewhere far, far from earth. And if she had been a slower woman, had she been less observant?
The area around the figures eyes was a dead giveaway that the creature laying on the ground was not human.
Reptilian had to be the best way to describe the way that Lillie could see her barely moving, half-animal half-man as the knitting of pale human skin attempted to cover the deep green that was otherwise exposed. The expanse of green reminded Lillie of the emerald tree boa she had once seen at the local zoo. Instead of the white streaks that covered the scales of the tree boa, this being had six black dots above her thin eyebrow. Lillie knelt next to the womanly figure, reaching out to attempt to touch the skin before it was gone. The tips of her fingers had just grazed against the cool green scales before, in a flash, the creatures eyes quickly shot open just as a cold hand shot out to wrap its own fingers around Lillie's own wrist. Those eyes were also reptilian in nature, a thin slit of black against an almost golden iris. The speed in which the creatures hand moved was, in truth, an impressive display of quickness considering Lillie knew how quickly her own hand had shot away.
"Sorry! I don't mean you any harm!" Lillie shouted in surprise, holding her hand up to show her palms to the stranger. There was a twinge of fear just underneath her voice.
The sounds that left the other beings mouth were not in any way, shape, or form words that Lillie understood. Low, like the bellow of an alligator before fading into a higher pitched hiss. Lillie wasn't surprised that the woman she was certain now had come from beyond her own galaxy didn't speak English. A row of razor sharp teeth were bared as a threat, and Lillie was certain for a moment that these moments were her last. Her wrist was still in a grip that was painfully tight, the joins that connected her wrist to the radius of her arm popping. It had been years since Lillie had fought anyone, and she wasn't quite sure what she could do against a being like this.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," Lillie tried to keep her voice calm as she met the womanly beings gaze. Words weren't going to be the savior here. Words were nothing but sounds this being didn't seem to understand. The way to prove her innocence, in Lillie's mind, was to treat the being like a wounded animal. Was eye contact the right move? Or would eye contact have the same effect as it did with creatures like the chimpanzee, a sign of a challenge? Lillie made sure to hold her gaze, to show she wasn't afraid and that she wasn't a threat.
An act she hoped wouldn't go sideways.
The stranger cocked her head in a way that reminded Lillie of a bearded dragon, as if some part of her understood what that look in Lillie's eyes was trying to convey. She blinked once, twice, before her head cocked to the side again. She sat up, movements slow as she never once looked away from the woman kneeling next to her, until she was kneeling in a facsimile of the exact same position. One of the creatures hands rose to flex its fingers slowly, watching to see if Lillie did the same. Slowly, Lillie raised her own hand to mirror the movements. Flex, relax, flex.
Flex. Relax. Flex.
The stranger plastered a smile on her face, a gesture that would have been less terrifying if her teeth didn't seem to be too sharp, and her hands suddenly reached out to touch Lillie's face as she dropped the grip on the other woman's wrist. For a moment Lillie wanted to pull away, but she let the stranger's fingers roam her skin. Either of the beings thumbs placed themselves firmly against either of Lillie's temples, the flats of her the beings hands resting on Lillie's cheeks as the being brushed away the black hair that hung loosely. If there was any force behind the pressing, Lillie wondered if she'd be able to fight the being off. She wasn't expecting to feel the surprisingly cool skin of the newcomers forehead against her own as they shared the same breath as a blinding fog entered Lillie's mind.
It wasn't unpleasant in a physically painful way. No, instead it was as if every memory in her brain was unlocked at the exact same time. Her skin felt electric, as if every neuron were firing off at the exact same time. Lillie couldn't pull her head away, as much as her hands tried to find purchase on the being's arms to break the hold on her head that seemed to hurt more and more as the memories flew faster and faster. Tears welled in dark eyes as she felt a trickle from her nose, realizing that it was a thin stream of blood. As the woman let go of her, Lillie lost her balance from her kneeling position and fell into a seated one weakly. Her back hit the brick wall behind her as she watched the new being, terror in her eyes as her voice hoarsely asked, "You…what did you…"
"Sorry," the being spoke its first human words, head still cocked to the side in the manner of a bearded dragon, "I don't mean you any harm."
It was a repeating of her own words, in a voice that was much more human that the previous hisses and bellows. Lillie felt weak, head swimming, and as if every bit of energy had been sapped from her normally energetic body. It hadn't always been able to speak. No, the pressing of heads had to be a transfer of knowledge as the creature flickered through her mind as if it were its own private library. It truly was amazing, Lillie could notice that even in her weakened state. Even more stellar, in her mind, was when the being stood on legs that it had undoubtedly never used and took off from the alley with a speed that was proceeded by a sound like a nearby thunderclap. That was a familiar sound, an all too familiar sound.
That was the sound her own power made before each and every run.
Lillie leaned against the wall behind her, trying to catch her breath and regain some semblance of energy, running the back of her hand over the blood that had left her nose. Her dark brown eyes glanced up at the sky above with a small chuckle, almost incredulous at the sight that met her, "Hello, old friend."
The dark expanse of the night sky glanced down at Lillie, the collection of stars staring down at her a welcome sight. The queen, Andromeda, stretched out above Lillie in a wine-dark sky over a world that had just gotten much more interesting.
Being soft was not a liberty that Ilyiana Dragunov had ever been able to afford herself. As a young girl her will to fight had come from a need to protect her older brother. Ilja was the softer of the two, a boy with a poet's heart when everything came down to it. Ilyiana had thrown her very first punch in defense of Ilja, in order to protect Ilja from the words of some of the other boys in the neighborhood. It had been her first punch, yes, but it had also been her first broken nose; a lesson in how the world always gave consequences to those bold enough to act.
The inability to show softness was why Ilyiana had been surprised to have the attention of a man like Everett Martyr.
There was an ease to Everett that Ilyiana did not usually see in the men she found attractive. Most men that caught her eye were stone, rigid and set in their routine. The man that Ilyiana often found attractive were strong, physically imposing men who seemed to be as without emotion as Ilyiana liked to portray herself as to the rest of the world. Everett Martyr was not stone. No, Everett Martyr was water. The man who proudly called himself member of a team known for being rapscallions in nature was adaptable and ever changing. His emotions ruled him long before any set of rules and reason did. Everett wasn't worried about letting the rest of the world know the kind of man he was.
That bravery, that self-assuredness in who he was in the face of the world, was why Ilyiana found Everett absolutely breathtaking. That bravery was why, on the night after Ilyiana had made her return to the business that she loved so dearly, Everett Martyr had decided to flirt with Ilyiana Draguno. And frankly? That bravery was the only reason Ilyiana had not turned him away before he could even get started.
The fitness center of the Las Vegas Horseshoe, the hotel and casino that the company Ilyiana had made her return at was using to host the collective of other wrestling shows for WrestleMania weekend, was quiet during the day. Ilyiana liked that. Those who weren't wrestling were doing things that most tourists would be doing. Ilyiana was not interested in getting to know the city of vice and indulgence, instead she wanted to be prepared for the second show she would be making her appearance at that weekend. Her long black hair, a new shade instead of the fiery red that she had once preferred, was pulled high into a loose bun on the top of her head. Her muscles were noticeable even underneath the white tank top she wore, hands curled around the padded handlebar of the rowing machine in front of her. With each pull backwards, she let out the deep breath that had been pulled into her lungs on the step before.
"Absolute badass," came a muttered voice from somewhere else in the gym. Ilyiana's head shot up, eyes scanning the mirror in front of her for the answer to who this might be like a prey animal knowing that it was cornered. Eyes the color of cognac, honeyed but a gaze that kept strong, finally found the source of the sudden intrusion to her privacy when they found the form of Everett Martyr sitting on one of the weight benches, not working but simply staring at her. His lithe frame leaned forward to rest his elbow on his thighs, hands clasped in front of him. The corners of his lips turned up into a smile as Ilyiana's eyes met his own. This man was not dressed to work out in the gym, Everett was dressed as if he were going out to visit Vegas with his friends, his tag team partner Sage if Ilyiana were to guess.
She let go of the handles of the rowing machine, the flat of her hand pressed against her chest in question, "Me?"
Everett gave a goofy gin, locs bouncing as he nodded his head, "Yeah, you!"
Thick black brows knitted together in confusion as she watched him, as if at any moment Everett would rush her with an attack, "I do not understand."
"I watched your match last night! Everything about you screams badass in the best way possible. I couldn't take my eyes off of you," Everett beamed again, hands gesturing where she sat. Honeyed words flew from a mouth that seemed so excited, as if he couldn't hold back everything that he was failing inside, "I do think you always look fantastic if I can be honest. Sorry if this is all a bit sudden! I didn't mean to blindside you or anything!"
Ilyiana did not look any less confused after his ramble than she had looked at his admission of infatuation. Last night had indeed been a special night, her return to the world of professional wrestling after a hiatus that had been brought on by the betrayal of a woman she once loved deeply. When McKenna Fleming, the closest thing to a best friend that Ilyiana would ever claim to have, had called her about a return to her career, that had finally made Ilyiana come back to what she had sorely missed. Yes, that was it. The match that had seen herself and McKenna face off against the duo of Beau Sawyer and Waylon Hickock, two strong men who Ilyiana did begrudgingly respect, was the real thing Everett respected, "McKenna was also there. She is also a badass. It must have been our in-ring ability," there was only a beat of hesitation, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her shirt as her brain finally processed the rest of the statement, "…you think I look fantastic?"
"McKenna's dope too!" Everett agreed, the look on his face never faltering. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no hint of mockery or cruelty, "Absolutely. 100%."
Ilyiana could not let her guard down, even if there seemed to be no reason to be so guarded. The sound of the drums beating in her heart were almost as loud now as they had been when she stood on the ring turnbuckle the night before, audience roaring for her. "..what trick are you trying to pull?"
"Nah, no tricks," Everett denied, his eyes still not breaking what Ilyiana believed to be an intense gaze, "I ain't smart enough for that, even if I wanted to. Just a guy who can appreciate a beautiful woman who fears nothing."
That statement wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't something that Ilyiana would admit to. Fear was something that she would never admit to feeling, but over the last few years she had felt more than ever before. It had started the year that she had left Impact Wrestling, unaware of where her career would go next. There was a fear about falling in love again after the heartache that had occurred at the hands of a woman Ilyiana once called her maiden. Allowing Everett to get any closer was something Ilyiana could not abide. "I know what you and your friend, your Sage, are capable of. I have seen what hijinks ensue when the two of you are together."
"Yeah. I also know our hijinks are usually harmless unless you're an asshole," Everett's grin looked just a tad sheepish for a moment, until his lips pursed tightly together for a moment. The buzz of the fluorescent lights was the only sound between the two before he admitted, "I don't joke about feelings or anything like that. I know what getting played with emotionally feels like. It ain't fun."
Many of those words stuck somewhere between Ilyiana's ribs, a weapon to be used against her heart. Used. Played. Those feelings were what Ilyiana had felt at the hands of her maiden, and suddenly a sharp pang filled her chest. Who had hurt such a kind soul in such a harsh way? It took a moment for the truth of the rest of his words to ring true. 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥. Everett thought she was 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥. The drums of her heart returned to thrum loud enough that she could feel them reverberating through her head. "It…it has been a long time since someone called me beautiful. Especially someone as handsome as you."
If she didn't think it to be true, Ilyiana wouldn't have complimented Everett in a way like that, but she had eyes and he was indeed a very handsome man. Maybe it was purely aesthetic, chestnut skin making his dark and yet mischevious eyes sparkle in a way that even gods the most capable of trickery would be proud of. Ilyiana didn't believe it was purely aesthetic, even as she stood to her diminuative height and gathered the black metal water bottle she had brought with her. The rest of her workout would have to wait, her mind was no longer focused. No, Ilyiana believed her attraction to the man came from the pure warmth that seemed to radiate from every pore. Against her better judgment she stopped in her tracks, the words leaving her lips before she could even stop herself, "Are…are you busy? Now?"
For the first time since the conversation had begun, Everett looked truly apologetic, "Sage and I are going out to do a few things around the city. You have a booking at Big Gay Brunch, right?"
Ilyiana gave a small nod, though she lingered at the door to the gym, mouth open slightly in realization. Everett had come solely to the gym in order to see her? To flirt with her? The smile that crossed her face was well-hidden, head bowed so that Everett could not see how giddy the fact of the matter made her. "I still have some obligations today, but…maybe…we could see each other between them?"
Everett stood, crossing the room to stand beside Ilyiana. One of his hands placed itself on the side of her face, raising her head so that they stood face to face, "I would love to."
The drums began once more as she blinked up at him, "…good."
HIs lips looked soft, even as his tongue darted out across them. Ilyiana wondered what they tasted like. If she were going to guess, it would have been of the mint in the gum he chewed. She inhaled a sharp breath, trying to calm her racing nerves at being so close to him, drawing in the earthy tone that was uniquely his. It seemed as if he were watching her lips as well, every bit as nervous as she was, "I couldn't agree more."
Ilyiana felt her chest thump, brushing an errant strand of her raven hair behind an ear, "It…I will see you then."
Everett winked playfully as he moved past her, confident in his stride as she stood unmoving in the doorway of the gym, "I can't wait to see you, gorgeous."
Ilyiana finally let out the breath that she had drawn in, a blush taking over her pale cheeks as she cupped her hand and called out towards him, "You are a charmer, Everett."
The tall frame of the man who she felt stronger emotions for than she had felt towards anyone turned to face her, walking backwards down the busy hallway with a playful shrug of his shoulders as he called back, "I try!"
Ilyiana tried to hide the smile, the blush, the feeling that she held deep within her chest. Part of her wanted to deny that this was happening, that she wasn't able to falling in love with someone who was so completely…different. Why was he so different than any other man she had found attractive? That's right. She was used to feeling emotions towards those who were truly emotionless, men who she wasn't even sure could feel that way. The words she whispered to herself were low, her lips barely moving as she watched Everett disappear into the throng of people, "I did not say that was a good thing."
Eddie Edwards wasn't sure that his body was still capable of things like this. Professional wrestling was one thing. Professional wrestling was something that came second nature to him at this point in his life. After twenty-four years, the art of professional wrestling came just as easy to him as breathing. There were very few new tricks that he, as the old dog of TNA could learn, and even when one of the younger members of the roster did teach him a new trick it was still within the wheelhouse of things he was already capable of. Be it the speed that fighting against the talents that were Ricky Sosa and Leon Slater or the strength of men like his new teammate Bear Bronson, there were things he had either forgotten or was still in the shape to learn.
As he bent over on the trail that had been chosen for his morning run, hands on the sleek material of his gym shorts and the yet to reach midday sun beating down on his bare back, Eddie Edwards wasn't sure that the tricks he was supposed to be learning were entirely possible.
The crunch of a twig underneath a heavy boot caught Eddie's attention as he pulled in another deep breath, trying to regain his composure leaning against the truck on one of the massive trees with its branches reaching high towards the sun, leaves rustling in the light breeze, was the man responsible for the fact that Eddie was pushing himself this hard this early in the morning. With a gentle gruffness that Eddie had realized very recently that only he was blessed enough to see, his partner Ryley Brannigan stood with his strong arms crossed over his broad chest. Stubble decorated a face hardened by both time and the time of work in which he participated outside of the ring, Ryley seemed to be the one person in the world that Eddie believed could have been hurt as deeply as he himself had been. "You doing good, Ed?"
"It is too fucking early to be on a run like this," Eddie panted, running a hand over his face. He took a deeper breath, as the ability to breathe finally filled his lungs yet again. The sun filtered through the branches, casting warmth where the suns beams touched. "I'm getting too old for this."
"Contrary to the popular belief, vampires do operate at all hours," the chuckle that left Ryley was a low one, "might be a good idea to get used to the heat."
"It's that fuckin' skin cream, isn't it?" Eddie muttered, not meeting Ryley's gaze as he ran a hand over his bottom jaw. He didn't need to be reminded of the way creatures of the night worked, having known the cruelty of more than one. There was a cream that those beasts he didn't think should be able to roam the world used, stopping the sun from doing any real harm to their skin. If not used…
Memories of the daughter whose side he had sat by during her final moments floated through Eddie's mind. Eddie could still remember the first sunrise that he and Lyra had shared together in many years, the final sunrise that the woman that he and Davey had taken under their wing as their daughter would ever see. It was more beautiful than any sunrise had been since the day Davey had been taken from him. A soft pink faded into a pale gold, the moment ruined by the smell of burning flesh and a flurry of ash. It was a horror that Eddie would never forget he bore witness to and one that indicated just how well he knew the dangers of the sun.
"Ed…" Ryley roused the man from his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder, giving him a soft squeeze of support. There was a kindness that was just as gruff as the rest of Ryley, "You in there?"
"I know they 𝒄𝒂𝒏 survive in the sun with that ointment…lotion…whatever the hell it is," Eddie pulled away from the other man, blinking away the memory he had never wanted to be playing in the first place, "but I also know how deadly the sun can be to them."
Ryley put his hands up in a defensive manner, not wanting to push Eddie any farther than he seemingly already had. If there was anyone that knew the pain Eddie felt, at least about the forces of the night stealing away those that he truly cared about, and knew the reasoning behind why Eddie was willing to push himself past his comfort zone, it was him. "I don't wanna push you too hard, okay? I just want…if you're sure that you want to learn how to do this, to hunt, then you have to be prepared for a fight at all times."
Eddie regarded him with soft blue eyes before he glanced out at the trail ahead. Ryley was right, and even worse than that, Ryley knew he was right. The hunting that Ryley did was either a young man's game or for people who had been trained since birth. Ryley was lucky enough that he was both. He had grown up with a father who made sure that he knew how to handle the beasts that lurked out of sight of most of humanity, creatures that Eddie had only been made aware of within the last few years. It was going to be harder for Eddie to get the hang of everything under his belt, "I…I know. I know. I'm snippy. I'm sorry."
Ryley offered up a little smirk, "Snippy? That the official term for all of this?"
"What do you want me to say? That I'm an old man who hasn't had his coffee yet? I don't ask for much, Ry, just enough room to spread my wings," Eddie rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. The faintest traces of a true smile tugged at the corner of his lips, "You wanna head on back? Get something to eat?"
Ryley was more playful in demeanor, though his exterior was still gruff, "Gotta get some coffee in you to make sure you're good for our other lessons?"
"Other lessons? After our run?"
Ryley clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder before he headed forward on the path, calling out over his shoulder, "We got some heavier training to do. Gonna teach you to do some real fighting."
As the toe of her black boot found its place in one of the holes on the chain link fence, eighteen-year-old Dia Banks had never been gladder to have chosen a pair of her boots that lacked their typical heels. This was hard enough to do in the black mesh top and pleather mini-skirt she had chosen, but when her best friend had told her there was something going on in a local concert venue that the two liked to visit when work and life permitted, she had jumped at the chance. It didn't matter if neither had money, a few well-placed footholds on the chain link fence behind the building and an attitude like you had simply gotten lost while looking for a bathroom and it was easy enough to like your way into anywhere.
With a little oof, Dia landed on the right side of the fence, hands and knees scraping hard against the pavement before she quickly got to her feet. Scrapes were a normal part of the punk scene, so someone who saw her wouldn't think anything of it. Dia was just thankful that it came from a fall of her own and not fists thrown by someone who meant her any real harm. She brushed the palms of her hands against the cool pleather of her skirt before turning to make sure Lina had also made it over to join her. "So, who's playing tonight? Screaming Eagle? Rise Against?"
"Not a concert," Lina grinned toothily, voice low as she took the lead towards one of the back entrances. She pulled the bag she carried with her closer to her body, "Bunch of us went to the Liar's Club last night. I met this guy who works in the company here. He invited me."
"Company? Like, the arena?" Dia rolled her eyes, not surprised that her best friend had decided to lie their way into an event just in order to get laid, "We're here because you're gonna get laid by, like, a janitor?"
"No, not the arena. He's an athlete," Lina rolled her eyes, "c'mon. You think I would sleep with anyone who works in the building?"
"Sports? Like, basketball player or hockey player? They're not exactly the same kind of guy," Dia prodded her friend, following Lina in her stride.
"Wrestling."
The sounds of Dia's boots echoing over the pavement behind the red-head stopped and she scoffed, placing her hands on her hips. She pulled in the piercing on her lower lip with her teeth, "You mean to tell me we're doing this so we can watch a bunch of roided up dudes in spandex and baby oil roll around on the ground together? Man, I'm going home."
Lina turned around, jogging back over to Dia, taking a gentle and guiding hold of her arm, "No, c'mon! This guy is really cute, Di. Besides, you don't want me out here meeting a stranger alone, do you?"
Dia rolled her dark brown eyes in utter annoyance. Lina was right, there was little chance she was going to leave her friend alone to meet with some random man she barely knew, that was too dangerous. "It's not even like you're alone out here. You got all these people."
"Yeah, but I don't have my favorite guard dog, do I?" Lina pursed her lips into a playful pout, "please, Di. Don't abandon me here."
Dia let out a deep sigh and continued her walk to the side door. Of course she wasn't going to abandon her friend, no matter how many people were actually in the arena. The sounds of fans cheering poured through the door as she and Lina made their way in past the side door, the set up much different than she was used to. There was no stage, no guitars or microphone to be seen. Instead in the center of the room was a four-sided ring, red ropes linked to one another through steel posts at every corner. There was fabric on each of the sides, the letters ROH in printed across the black fabric in red and white lettering. Dia assumed it was the name of the company they had just snuck their way into.
Three of the sides of the ring were surrounded by the crowd, and Dia pushed her and Lina's way through the throng of sweaty men to the front of the crowd who seemed excited to see the action that had yet to start before them. Dia had never been a fan of professional wrestling. The boys in the orphanage where she had grown up had always enjoyed Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage, but the bright colors of white men with arms bigger around than their heads had never seemed appealing to her. There was something inside of her that could never get into it in the way that horror movies did. No, wrestling was something that did not capture her attention simply for the fact that this world of violence did not strike her in the way that the violence in other things did.
"So, who is this guy you-"
The opening bars of a song played over the loudspeaker, cutting off the rest of the question Dia was getting ready to pose as the first of one of the competitors made his way to the ring. He was dressed in a black singlet with lines of deep purple coming up the sides, heavier set in a way that was not unattractive. It wasn't that of a man who was on anything to enhance the way he gained muscle. Dia wasn't even sure that this baby-faced young man had any true muscle. His black hair was cropped close to his head, no trace of facial hair on his clean-shaven face. He was entirely unremarkable, Dia noticed as he circled the outside of the ring, slapping the hands of fans who were very excited to see the young competitor.
That was when he looked at her, giving a smile to show off gleaming teeth and deep dimples. It wasn't the smile that won her over, boyish and gentle in a way that seemed to want to worm its way underneath skin that she suddenly felt a little too warm in. No, it was the stranger's eyes. The eyes of this man, a deep blue that seemed flecked with lots of green. Those warm pools of cerulean enveloped her in a way that she wasn't sure that she could vocalize. The young man slapped his hand against one of her own that she hadn't expected to have outreached. What was wrong with her? She wasn't into this! She wasn't into this no matter how loudly her heart seemed to be beating in this moment.
"Making his way to the ring and hailing from Deerborn, Michigan, Colt Cabana," the gentleman who was dressed in a plain black shirt and a pair of jeans announced, gesturing to the man who had her heart soaring for some damned reason. 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒕. For some reason it sounded like the man who stood in the corner, fidgeting with the elbow pad he wore for protection. Almost shyly, almost coyly, he lifted his eyes to glance in her direction again, a small smile crossing his lips as he glanced down at his black booted feet almost just as quickly. Was he flirting?
𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒑.
The second theme song that played was one that Dia was not only aware of, but she was fond of, in AFI's Miseria Cantare. The man that made his way to the ring felt very much more attune to someone that Dia would have brought into her small apartment to spend the night with. Stringy black hair that reached the top of his shoulder, a little soul patch on his chin, tattoos up and down a lithe body. Dia would have assumed that this was the man who Lina had met the other night at the Liar's Club, were it not for the X's on the back of the white wrist tape he wore. Dia assumed it meant the same thing to this young man that it would have meant at the Liar's Club, this man didn't drink or do anything else of the sort. As loud as the crowd had been for Colt, simply because he was the first wrestler to make his way out to the ring for the night, the crowd seemed even more excited for the long-haired punk who now made his own entrance. Yet, there was no interaction with the fans who desperately wanted to get his attention. His ice blue eyes were cold as they stared down the man who was already in the ring.
"And his opponent, from right here in Chicago, Illinois, CM Punk!"
𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, Dia mused to herself as the two men met in the center of the white canvas ring, standing toe-to-toe and face-to-face. 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒐𝒚.
As soon as the bell rang, it was like the secrets of the world had finally decided to reveal themselves to Dia.
Colt Cabana began to clap, trying to get the audience behind him Dia assumed as the few people in the audience did start to clap. Punk seemed to be less than enthused about the man he was facing trying to hype up his hometown crowd, and as the two began to circle one another, Punk slid along the canvas to try and take out one of Colt's legs. For a man of his size, Dia was surprised that Colt moved quickly enough away from the attempt. Punk stood and the two men moved into the center of the ring, hands finding their places in each other as they tried to gain power over the other. Punk used his quickness to move behind Colt, wrapping his arms around the bigger man's waist.
Colt's arm moved to try and elbow Punk in the head, but when they didn't work, he tried to work his fingers at Punk's clasped hands. Colt broke the hold, linking arms with Punk and using that leverage to wrench Punk's arm behind his back. A cheeky grin took his lips as he realized that hold wasn't doing what he needed to, and with a shrug he let go of the hold and took out Punk's leg from behind. 𝑶𝒉, 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆. 𝑯𝒆'𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆, Dia couldn't help but smile, 𝑯𝒆'𝒔 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚.
But the eye-opening thing about all of this to her, Dia realized, was that she wanted that to be her. Dia had always had a knack for physicality, a want to get her hands dirty. As Colt tossed Punk into a corner, the smaller man landing with a solid grunt, Dia couldn't help the wide smile that crossed her crimson painted lips. This? This was something she could see herself doing for the rest of her life. She could see herself standing on the corner piece as Punk did now, raising blows down on an opponent's head. This wasn't the wrestling that the boys she had grown up with had loved, oversized super-heroes with larger-than-life personalities. This? This was raw, physical in a way that she had never imagined the act of professional wrestling could be.
"C'mon, Colt! Fight back!" Dia found herself shouting through cupped hands towards the ring, trying to urge on the one of the two that she had picked as her own. The momentum of the fight seemed to shift, seemed to lean more towards the favor of the singlet wearing soft boy than the hometown crowd wanted. 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅. Dia had always liked the underdog in a movie, leaning more towards kinship with the often maligned and put upon than the hero who thought he could do it all.
Dia gave a gasp as Punk jumped onto Colt's back from behind, legs wrapped around Colt's head as he drove the other man onto his neck and head in the center of the ring. Colt flopped onto his back as Punk crawled across the canvas in an attempt to pin him. Colt's arm shot up, shoulders lifting off of the mat much to the chagrin of the rest of the crowd. Punk rolled onto his side, hands threaded into his hair. Punk was to his feet first, his hands digging against Colt's scalp to pull the man to his feet. Punk scooped Colt up, Colt's head between his thin thighs and Colt's thicker thighs around his head. He was going to drop Colt, until the other man kicked his legs and using his weight to reverse the position. Colt then lowered himself down, driving Punk's head to the mat. Instead of pinning his opponent, Colt moved into the corner and reached out on either side of him. He turned to face Punk, lifting himself to the second and then third ropes. Colt's arms circled as if he was trying to gain air in order to fly, before throwing himself onto Punk with a splash. This was it. It had to be it.
Punk kicking out made Dia yell out in frustration as she realized that this was not yet over.
Colt pulled himself to his knees, his soft eyes once again matching with hers. There was a moment in which she wondered what it would be like to fight alongside him, what did they call it in wrestling, a tag team? Her heart thudded wildly before she watched Colt push to his feet and turn around to face Punk's downed form. He picked Punk up, taking a hard hold of his arm and tossing Punk hard into the corner nearest her. He backed up enough to lift Punk to the second rope. He circled his hands together in a sort of roll, before climbing to the top rope himself. Thick legs wrapped around Punk's neck, tossing him to the mat and following him down. Punk's momentum allowed him to roll through for the attempted cover, only for Colt to push him away. The two traded pin attempts back and forth and back and forth until with his weight, Colt pinned Punk for a three count.
Dia found herself pumping her arm in excitement, happy to see the man that she had chosen had managed to win. His arms rose in triumph, in conquest, as he stood in the center of the ring. His lips turned up into a proud smile, even as fans booed the success. Colt exited the ring, making his away around without the support of the fans. For a moment more, one dazzling moment, Colt tapped his fist against hers again before making his way through the curtains he had made his entrance through.
"He liiiiikes you," Lina teased loud enough to be heard over the music for Dia to hear her voice. She glanced over at her friend, noting the way that her lips began to break into a grin. "You gotta come out to the bar with us tonight! Meet him!"
"Thanks, but no thanks," Dia tried to deny with a roll of her eyes, "why would a boy like that be going for a girl like me?"
"Oh, Diamond," Lina rolled her eyes as she playfully shoved at Dia's shoulder, "you went from not liking wrestling to liking it reaaaal quick."
"Just cause it's cool," Dia argued back as if to defend herself from an accusation that she didn't quite want to face, "Just cause I enjoy it."
"The truth is just a rule that you can bend, Diamond, and you have always been reaally good at bending the rules," Lina rolled her own eyes as she focused back in the young Punk as he decided to leave. "You'll come with me cause you like me. Cause you don't want me to go alone."
Dia would admit that was partially the truth, that a part of her was going to end up at whatever her time and the wrestler had had dragged Dia out of the apartment to this show to be with ended up at. A part of her did hope that Colt would be there. Was it for romance? Maybe, partially. But getting to meet Colt that could lead her to what she now considered her destiny. Meeting Colt would bring her to the world of professional wrestling.
The memory of the flying forearm that Tyler had hit him with after bouncing off the white ring ropes brought Archie crashing back to the world around him, blinking back the cobwebs that had seemingly took over his mind. That match had been a long time ago, seven years ago to be exact. Archie knew he looked like an entirely different man today as he walked into the Gordon Craig Theater to make his return to RevPro than he had been walking into the Cockpit as a fresh-faced rookie. The one quick and peppy gait he had used to practically dance down the entrance ramp to the Celtic Punk fiddles of Flogging Molly had slowed, thanks to the leg injury that had once taken him out of action for over a year. The plumpness that he once possessed had only grown, though not by that much. He worked too hard in the gym to let his body completely fall to pieces. His hair was longer, shaggier, and with a few more graying hairs to match his similarly unkempt facial hair. Where he had once been more boyish, even with his facial hair and kind eyes, life had certainly made sure that he earned the nickname of the Welsh Wildman.
It wasn't just the way he looked that had changed.
"Arch?" came the soft voice of the woman he was sharing the private locker room that RevPro had afforded Archie as a member of the All Elite Wrestling roster. That was another change for himself, he had gone from a fresh-faced rookie to an accomplished superstar in several promotions. A former Ring of Honor Television and World Champion, those accolades meant nothing in comparison to the diminuative blonde who wrapped her thing arms around his waist from behind, resting the smooth of her cheek on his bare back, "You okay in here?"
Archie turned in the grip of his Charity, beaming down at her. If there was one good thing in his life right now, it was her. Bringing her to the UK, specifically to this company where he felt as if his story had begun, was important to Archie. It gave him the same sense of pride as staring down Tyler in their first match had. 𝗧𝘆𝗹𝗲𝗿. The smile that reached ear from ear faded from his face, even as Archie stared down at his wife. It still didn't feel right that he was no longer speaking to the man he had once considered his brother. "Oh…Char…I…"
"You're in your head," there was no sound of doubt in her voice. Charity knew what was playing in the mind of the man who she loved, but she wasn't going to call Archie on his thoughts, "Nervous?"
"Nervous? Why would I be nervous? I've been doing this for far, far longer than the Banks kid has been doing all this," Archie chuckled in dismissal, giving a shake of his head.
"Louis Banks if the Progress World Champion," Charity seemed to challenge, a playful smile crossing her pink pointed lips. "This challenge could give you that championship, and you're not even a little nervous?"
The truth of the matter was, yes, he was nervous. It wasn't because he had a chance to win the Progress World Championship, even if that was a championship that he had wanted since he began his career. No, these nerves that filled every hidden cavity and pit in his chest weren't the same sort of nerves that he got during a championship challenge. This was the same budding sense of dread he had developed since the day he had declared that he was done being in the back pocket of people who may have once cared, but had let their own selfishness and greed blind themselves to who they once were. The buzzing he felt underneath his skin was the same buzzing he had felt the day his own meaty forearm had smashed hard into Tyler Statlander's face as Archie declared that he was no longer a soldier to be used as collateral for a cause he did not believe in and a leader he wasn't sure that he had ever believed in.
"In my heart, I have but one desire," Archie gave a playfully dramatic sigh, holding his hand to his chest, "and that's to show you around my old stomping grounds. RevPro, it's where I got my start. It's where…"
"It's where you and Tyler got your careers started," Charity's voice was gentle as she revealed she knew the truth, "No matter where you are on your paths, this company was where it all began."
"Yeah," Archie let out a measured breath, glancing down at the woman who wore his ring with tender eyes, "Yeah, we both got started here. Before the bullshit, before the betrayal, it was just us. Me and him against the world."
There was a beat of silence as Charity looked up at him, trying to gauge his emotions. "Kneel," Charity clucked her tongue at him.
"What?" Archie's bushy eyebrow raised in surprise at the word, "What do I-"
"𝑲𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒍, Archie," Charity's voice had a tone that let him know he was no longer being asked, this had verged into the territory of a command. He rolled his eyes playfully, his massive frame lowering down to the linoleum of the private bathroom floor with a gentle oof. A small twinge of pain radiated down the leg he had bent towards his own chest, reminding Archie that this wasn't a position that he could hold for too long. Charity took one of his cheeks each in either of her petite hands, nails painted green to match the color of the bodysuit that she wore to match Archie's own ring gear, "Do you know what I see when I look at you? At this place?"
"A giant of a man knelt on a dirty bathroom floor?" Archie tried to joke, eyes glancing around the lower level of the room. The edges of his eyes crinkled as he looked back up at her, a throaty chuckle leaving him, "Is this how you see the world all the time?"
"Ass," Charity playfully scratched at Archie's bearded cheeks with a playful roll of her baby blues, "no. When I see you, I finally see the man who I fell in love with again. I don't see the man that Tyler and Kris forced you into being. You finally have that pride back in your step."
Archie couldn't help the genuine smile that crossed his lips, replacing the smirk that had been there, lips partially obscured by his wild beard, "I know I wasn't the best to you, Char, but-"
"But you weren't yourself," Charity cut Archie off before he could continue the apology that was about to leave his lips, "but you aren't the man that Ty or Kris wanted you to be. You are 𝒚𝒐𝒖, Arch. And you? You are one of the best things to come out of this company. I saw, like, at least three people watching you as if you were the second coming in that hallway. They invited you back for a reason, not Tyler. You're the pro that has the respect around here, the elder statesman. Keep it up and you'll be the Progress World Champion by the end of the show."
"I love you, mumsy," Archie pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, "Walk me to the ring tonight?"
Charity leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his forehead, "Knock 'em dead, loverboy. With me by your side."
The scent of heather and honey was carried in through the white wooden window, filling the almost stifling warm room when Alarick Bane laid his head on a soft pillow with what should have been a calming aura. The moonlight that filtered in between the slats of the blinds, casting her light on the side of the bed where his beloved Reese slept with one of his legs sticking out from under the light blanket that covered his half of the bed. By all right, everything should have been peaceful and calm. It should have been prime condition for a peaceful night of sleep, yet Alarick Bane laid staring at the ceiling, hands spread across the soft but hair covered expanse of his stomach, paralyzed by thoughts of the upcoming anniversary that always drew these feelings of dread into his rapidly beating heart.
With a low growl, Alarick rolled over to watch the sleeping form of the man laying next to him, breath catching low in the pit of his chest when the warm and loving face of his poet, his own personal Orpheus, that met his bleary-eyed gaze. As his eyes adapted to the darkness of the room, Alarick tried not to move lest the specter that laid next to him realize he was awake. The face that stared back at him sported a long, graying beard standing stark against a face that had long turned blue, the whites of its eyes stained red. With a wheeze, as if whatever apparition who shared his bed were trying to catch a breath it knew was never coming, it lifted its hand as if to implore Alarick for help. With a pained whimper, as if the figure he had once believed to be the body of his beloved had struck him, Alarick jerked his massive frame away from the outstretched and pleading hand of his father. His elbow smashed into the wood of the nightstand, sending his black digital alarm clock clattering to the floor just moments before he lost his position on the bed and his own body came crashing down with a loud thump.
"Alri?" came a sleepy voice from the other side of the bed, accented heavily with the gentle Welsh lilt that could only belong to his poet. Alarick pushed himself up from his position on the floor, hands resting against the cool white flannel of their sheets that covered their bed as the bedside lamp on his side of the bed flashed on. Sitting with his back to the wooden headboard, blinking tiredly in the low light of his bedside lamp was Reece, the mortal man who knew the truth of what exactly Alarick was. The long and gray beard was now shorter and brown, patchy in spots as his Reece didn't have the benefit of Alarick's own penchant for growing hair. The cool, blue, decaying skin that had come from an act so violent that Alarick often still could not believe it had come from his own hands was not soft and pale, so very pale despite Reece's love for being outside in his garden or with the bees that he tended to. Most importantly were the eyes, the soft brown eyes that regarded Alarick with love and affection that he still did not believe that he had earned.
"Sorry…ah…nightmare," Alarick muttered as he pushed himself to his feet, turning to pick up the alarm clock on the floor before climbing back into bed. His chest felt tight, his larger body hunched over to wraps his arms around his knees in his seated position. He couldn't face Reece for fear that the next time he looked over at his lovers face it would be the cold-hearted stare of the dead. Even as Reece planted a soothing hand on his back, rubbing small circles into the hairy skin, Alarick refused to look at him, "Go back tae sleep."
"I've never seen you have a nightmare this bad," Reece tried to comfort, voice soft as he watched the beefier yet not taller man that he had opened his home to, "Do you want to speak about it?"
Alarick wasn't sure he did want to speak about it. There were few things that Alarick thought could change the Welshman's mind on the power of their love. Even when Alarick had lost his mind thanks to an attack from a woman who was no longer alive, Reece had been patient and gentle with him until he were able to recall that, yes, he loved Reece with as much ferocity as he had once loved his Maeve. But patricide? Patricide was definitely something that he could see Reece leaving him for. Alarick did allow himself to lean into the side of the man who he shared his bed with, "It's…we dinnae…"
"Wolfie things?" Reece didn't let Alarick stammer over his own words for too terribly long, knowing that Alarick was usually better with actions than he was with his words. Reece knew more about what lay beyond the veil of the world he had been taught to believe in than most mortals ever would. Reece had seen Alarick at his most vulnerable, while his bones shifted and cracked and elongated to reveal his truest form. "You know I don't mind. You know I can keep your secrets."
Alarick allowed himself to take a long breath, the warm night air filling his lungs and reminding him that he was still alive, "There are laws tae our people, yeah? The Garou have our own society, the things we're allowed to do."
"The Litany, aye?" questioned Reece, trying to clarify what little information he remembered from Alarick's lessons.
"Aye," Alarick nodded as he let out the breath, slow and measured, glancing over at Reece, "There are punishments for breaking parts of the Litany. Take an eye for an eye and a life for a life sorts of things. When I was a lad…no…I was old enough tae know tha' I should nae have done it…something I did if found out by the other packs…it would precedent for…"
There was a silence between the two before Reece asked, "Your father?"
The silence only deepened as Alarick felt his chest grow tight again, eyes clenched shut as he realized what he might have done as he fell. Had he shouted? Had Reece heard the exclamation of fear as he fell onto the floor? Alarick's meaty hands scrubbed over his face, the feeling of hot tears mixing with the whiskers of the beard he had not grown as a young man, "Did I-"
"Not now, love," Reece confirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to Alarick's temple, "but…you have in your sleep. I've heard you whine in your sleep about him."
Alarick cleared his throat, the threat of a soft howl burning the back of his throat as he tried his hardest not to wake the rest of the household. Reece's daughters Olive and Willow, the girls that Alarick had accepted as the pups that he had always wanted but had never been able to have with his Maeve, may have been deaf and hard of hearing; but Alarick knew if he let out a true and honest howl it would shake the house, "I know you-"
"You don't have to tell me," Reece cut Alarick off before he could speak yet again, something that the Garou was thankful for, "Will it keep you safe not to tell me or do you need to get it off of your chest?"
Alarick thought about it for a moment before shaking his head in denial, "Not now. I cannae tell ye jus' yet. Do you detest me fer tha'?"
"Oh, my beloved pup, no," Reece pulled Alarick closer into his side, "when you need to tell me, you will. For now, just let me hold you."
After such an emotional and tumultuous results in their first matchup, it is an understatement to say the second round is just as explosive. From the very moment the bell rang, Noah and KAT took the fast and furious route—trading stiff shots and putting on a technical performance to showcase their diverse skill set.
Angle has the advantage with his technical prowess, often slowing Karisma down with a beautiful counter into a submission. Still, the strength of the latter shows itself brilliantly as she uses her power to muscle out of each hold with sheer tenacity. To say they are evenly matched would be completely accurate. It would take one mistake, one second too long to recover or counter to make or break this match.
Chaos ensues as the two struggle for complete control. A drop kick from KAT sends Noah spilling to the outside. She sees her chance for a high stake move, rebounding off the ropes for a beautiful suicide dive to take them both down. The count starts and the crowd is eager to see who stands first. KAT uses the announce table to steady herself as Noah uses the barricade. She rushes in with a front drop kick, but he sidesteps just in time. The brunette eats the barricade and lands on her neck and shoulders.
The count continues and Noah wastes no time dragging the hair to stand her up. Karisma is tossed into the ring for the cover.
One…
Two…
She kicks out, survival mode turned on. Desperation starts to eat at Noah as he looks to grab the ankle for an ankle lock. Karisma claws towards the ropes, but he drags her back to the center. Refusing to tap, she rolls through to send him forward, but catches him around the waist immediately for a roll up pin.
One…
Tw-…
Noah escapes and reverses into a pin of his own.
One…
Two…
KAT escapes and they both stand. Noah goes for the infamous eye rake once again, but KAT sees it coming. She fights off his efforts with a boot to the chest. He flies into the referee, sending the latter into the ropes. As soon as Noah recovers, the woman spits a terrifying spray of red mist into his eyes. A vengeful rage reflects in her eyes as they darken.
Noah’s vision is still intact, but the burning agony is more than enough for Karisma to take advantage. She springboards from the ropes and strikes with a flying forearm for the Second Kataclysm to put him down. She drapes herself over his frame for the pin just as the referee recovers.
One…
Two…
Three!
It’s over and the scoreboard is now even. As the referee checks on Noah, Karisma showcases two rows of blood red teeth—twisted grin revealing that if he is willing to go low, she’ll take it all the way to Hell in response.
Tori Thompson couldn't help the low whistle that left her pink painted lips as she entered the lobby of the hotel that was certainly outside of her typical price range. She popped the wintergreen gum in her mouth, eyes scanning without knowing where to look first. This was a far cry from any roadside motel with their plain lobbies that somehow smelled of cigarette smoke despite public smoking being illegal for quite some time now. Tori couldn't imagine anyone in this hotel even considering taking a smoke break. Her eyes traveled to the high ceiling, golden hues serving as the backdrop for frescoes of Greek mythology that looked like they belonged in the Louvre more-so than they looked like they belonged in a hotel lobby. At the center of the room stood the landing of a travertine staircase decorated in a peacock carpeting, the railings just as gilded as the ceiling. A bar with a hexagonal bar sat on one side of the room while the check-in counter, or at least Tori assumed that rich people still needed check-in counters. As she shouldered her baby blue duffel bag, Tori silently wondered what exactly she was doing in such a beautiful hotel.
It wasn't until her eyes landed on the beautiful woman standing on the stairs that Tori felt as if her brain had been set up to jumper cables and shocked back into working order.
If there was anyone on this planet that Tori had never seen herself able to get along with, it was the woman who stood on that grand staircase: Carmen Evergreen. Carmen was as different from Tori as this hotel was to the sorts of places Tori often stayed at. Carmen was the definition of sophistication and grace, a velvet wrapped stick of dynamite who had proven herself to be capable enough to become the AEW Women's World Champion. Tori had heard whispers backstage that Carmen couldn't be trusted and had largely bought into them, even if Carmen's in-ring ability and the women's division was far from Tori's interest. While she had been in the ring on the more independent scene, she wasn't a wrestler in the grand scheme of things. Tori took pride in being a manager for the two men she considered her brothers, Truth Magnum and Turbo Floyd. Her place was trying to reign in the Youngest Men Alive, the men who she had made sure had her location before she ever dreamed of coming here, not acting on self-serving opportunities.
It was why she had been so surprised the first time Carmen bumped into her in the hallway at an arena. Tori had thought it was an accident that first time, the two exchanging barbs before storming off. Both Turbo and Magnum had heard all about how much Tori 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 Carmen. She hated Carmen for her beautiful long blonde hair that always seemed to smell of roses and honey. Tori 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 Carmen's soft skin that felt like velvet every time Tori brushed her hand against Carmen's skin when passing each other in the hall. Tori certainly didn't imagine spending her every waking moment curled into the side of the Woman's World Champion or Carmen's hand threading through her hair as Tori laid with her head in Carmen's lap.
Tori couldn't help the dreamlike sigh that left her lips as he bright red Chuck Taylor's crossed the peacock printed carpet, standing on the landing two steps down from where Carmen stood above her. Her hands brushed over the black skirt of the tennis dress she wore, feeling very inadequate in the one dress she had packed into the bag she used during travel days. Carmen looked as elegant as the lobby surrounding them in a little black dress, the top a sleeveless cross halter that fit Carmen perfectly. "You made it," Carmen seemed to suppress a wide smile, instead letting a demure one cross her bright red lips.
"You called," Tori tried to sound cooler and more self-confident than she actually felt. It would surprise her if the rest of the lobby, or more importantly, Carmen couldn't hear the thudding of her heartbeat. "You…um…you look so pretty. So, 𝐬𝐨 pretty."
A light chuckle left Carmen's lips, and Tori wasn't sure if the color in her cheeks was her own doing or the work of Carmen's excellent makeup skills, "Thank you, Tori. You look very good yourself. Follow me."
Tori let the command stand for a moment, fingers trailing up the golden railing as she followed behind Carmen. The feeling of being completely out of her element didn't leave Tori when the duo had left the magnificent lobby to grab an elevator up to Carmen's room. In the center of the elevator bay sat a bronze statue of a young man on a winged horse, the base surrounded by seats decorated with the same print as the carpet. Tori felt Carmen press in close to her side as they waited for one of the opulent golden elevators. "It's gorgeous. Everything here is gorgeous."
"You're right," Carmen agreed as she slid one of her dainty hands into one of Tori's, "𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 here is gorgeous."
Tori felt her cheeks flush as a small ding alerted the duo to the arrival of their elevator, Carmen guiding Tori inside their own private car. The ride to the room where Carmen was staying, where Tori had agreed to stay with her, was quiet. Tori wasn't sure what to say to break a silence that she wouldn't say was uncomfortable. Tori was suspecting a normal hotel room, a singluar bed sitting in the center of the room, a tv sitting in front of it on an old dresser. All she wanted was a nice, warm bed where she could lay with the woman she was breaking all the rules she had set in place for herself. After all, the invite to the hotel had come from a text message from a number she had never seen in her life. It had taken her a long time to decide she was going to take the offer and even longer to send the message to Turbo that meant she wasn't going to be joining them at the small place just outside of Chicago that they had found. This meeting, while not being done in secret, wasn't being done with the knowledge of what exactly she was getting herself into.
She wasn't surprised when the door to the room opened and she was greeted by something grander than any hotel room she had ever seen in her life.
"𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 is a hotel room?" Tori marveled as she dropped her bag in the front hallway of the suite Carmen was calling her own while AEW was in Chicago. The front part of the hallway stretched out to the left and right, the left leading back to what Tori assumed was both the bedroom and the bathroom while the right part of the hallway led towards what could equate into a living room and small kitchen. Tori followed Carmen's lead, stepping out of her high tops just as Carmen did with her red bottom high heels.
"Well, yeah," Carmen chuckled again as she looked over her shoulder, headed into the living room. A bottle of champagne sat on the dark wooden table in front of the pale-yellow couch, which Carmen used to fill the two glasses that sat beside it. She offered one to Tori before stretching out on the dark red chaise lounge near the windows curtained with what looked like sheer white gauze. Tori couldn't help but take in the way Carmen's long legs stretched out in front of her, the way that the fading sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains shimmering off of Carmen's platinum blonde hair. "You don't usually stay in places like this?"
"Places the boys and I stay don't have gilded ceilings and statues by the elevators. Usually we're lucky if they have an open lobby and pool that's indoors," Tori laughed as she sat on the couch, bare feet tucked underneath her, "I could get used to this though."
"It's easier to get used to when you have people to help you," Carmen assured as she sipped from her champagne flute, though her passionate blue eyes never left Tori. There was a knowable look in Carmen's eyes, one Tori was feeling for herself. Just as Tori was hoping to impress Carmen, her host was hoping to impress her. "I could help you get used to places like this, sweetheart."
Tori ducked her head, her cheeks reddening even more, "You…uh…why invite me here, Carmen? I'm not…there are plenty of girls in the back who…"
"I like you, Tori," Carmen assured with a gentle nod, "No matter how different we are. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't have invited you to stay with me. It doesn't matter to me if you're used to the things I like any more than it matters if I'm used to the things you like."
"I…I guess you're right about that," Tori admitted with a shy smile. She raised the glass to her mouth, making a face as the bubbles from the champagne tickled her nose. The smell wasn't good, and the taste was sweet enough that Tori found herself closing her eyes to try and regain her bearings. When she opened her eyes, she realized that Carmen had moved from the chaise lounge to sit next to her on the couch. Tori could feel the heat radiating off of Carmen, trying to repress the giggles that threatened to take over.
"Are you good?" Carmen raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, surprised at Tori's sudden fit of giggles.
"You're hot. Twice hot." Tori sat her drink down on one of the coasters on the table, putting her head in her hands as she broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. She bent over, palms of her hands pressed tight against the sockets of her eyes as her elbows rested on her knees. "I'm sorry. It's so stupid."
Carmen's hand placed itself on Tori's back, chin resting on the crook of the other woman's shoulder with her own giggles, "This? This is why I find myself falling in love with you."
Those words seemed to sober something up inside of Tori and she sat bolt upright, eyes wide as she looked over at Carmen. 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆.ᐣ That was such a strong word, but even then, Tori knew that it was the right word for what she was feeling. There was so much love inside of her heart to give that Tori could very easily share it with Carmen. The wide grin hadn't left her face, as one of her hands came up to cup Carmen's cheek, "I…I think I love you too."
Carmen leaned forward, pressing her lips gently to Tori's. Time seemed to slow down around the two, Tori finding that her free hand came over to rest on Carmen's knee. Carmen softly placed both of her hands in Tori's hair, her nails resting gently and pleasantly against the back of Tori's scalp. Carmen's lips tasted like the champagne both women had been enjoying, but Tori realized she liked it a lot more when the taste was on Carmen's lips than when it was in the glass. "Let me be your secret sin, Tori," Carmen whispered against Tori's lips.
The words stopped Tori dead in her tracks, and she pulled way from Carmen, "Secret? Sin? Is that how you view this?"
Carmen looked confused for just a moment, as if she didn't know exactly what she had said to stop their kiss, "Is…is this not…"
"No," Tori had never sounded so sure of anything as she raised her other hand to cup Carmen's other cheek. She held Carmen's face lightly between her hands, resting their foreheads together, "If I'm yours, I'm going to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone. If we go through with this relationship, which I really really wanna, I want the world to know you're my girl. I'm not gonna hide who I am, and I certainly hide the love that I feel for you."
"You…you won't hide me?" Carmen sounded surprised at the very thought of someone loving her so out in the open. There was a sadness in her eyes, one that told Tori everything she needed to know about the sorts of relationships that Carmen had pursued before her.
"Never," Tori couldn't help the sadness in her own eyes as she placed a chaste kiss to Carmen's forehead, leaving behind a bright pink lip print that made Tori feel proud. She wondered who could ever hide someone as wonderful as Carmen, why they would ever dream of hiding her in the first place. "You're mine now, Carmen Evergreen. And everyone is gonna know it."
=𝖠𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗈𝗇, 𝖳𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗌: 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝟤𝟪𝗍𝗁, 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟨=
Nine years should have given Sylvia Hargensen enough time to find forgiveness in her head towards a man that her husband certainly had long since forgiven, and yet there was a part of Sylvia that couldn't. Tommaso had become another part of her life as he once had been before the betrayal, without any thought to that moment that had torn DIY apart. Whereas Johnny now laughed alongside their friend, Sylvia would always see the apathetic stare in the moments before Tommaso had mercilessly driven his knee into Johnny's head. Her husband might have trusted the goodbye hug from Tommaso when he had announced he'd be leaving the bright lights of their current company for greener pastures, but as he had tried to embrace Sylvia, all she could think of was that his grip of affection could just as easily turn to one of rage and desecration. As much as she would like to forgive Tommaso for what he had done, Sylvia had so far been unable to do so.
AEW Dynamite was a rarely missed show in her and Johnny's household, especially now that both were becoming more and more disillusioned with the company they currently wrestled for. "𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙," she though to herself as she began folding the laundry to be put away in their bag for the upcoming travel days, "𝐽𝑜𝘩𝑛𝑛𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡. 𝐽𝑜𝘩𝑛𝑛𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔." Sylvia missed the independent scene she had once come from, missed when the world respected the bubblegum horror as she once called herself. Her fingers itched for a fight even now as she wrapped them around the cotton fabric of one of Johnny's shirts, folding the material gently as her blue eyes raised to watch as Mark Briscoe stood in the ring talking impassioned about something.
Sylvia liked Mark Briscoe. He was warm, especially in his most excitable moments like this where he asked for and begged for a challenge for his TNT Championship. The arena lights cut off, a low gravel of a voice reciting the words, "𝑴𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚…" throughout the darkness. It was enough to send a small chill through Sylvia's chest, lowering the shirt in her hands to set it on the cream-colored couch. This song was new. This environment was new. Yet the moment the words Psycho Killer erupted onto the LED screens at the top of the entrance ramp in a fiery font, Sylvia knew what she was being faced with. Soon enough, Tommaso Ciampa stepped forward from the darkness into the spotlight. His once brown beard was now a snowy white, a look that didn't deflect from his aura and had instead added to it. In fact, this moment frozen in time was nothing but a cool and foreboding aura.
But no moment could stay completely frozen in time.
Sylvia leaned forward in her seat, cerulean eyes trying to take in every inch of movement that she could. Would there be a call for another betrayal of someone Tommaso called a friend? Would this challenge be considered a betrayal unto itself? And yet as she stared at the visage of her husband's best friend, the man who she had loved against better judgment, there was a look in his eyes that Sylvia had not recognize in a long time. Any sense of rage, of apathy, had been replaced by a cooly hidden mirth. There were the faintest traces of a smile, a true and comfortable smile, playing at the edges of his lips. This was the man Sylvia had once found her heart falling so completely for, the man she and her husband had once, in a wine-soaked haze as they lounged together on the same couch that she sat on now, admitted that they loved as deeply as they loved one another. This version of Tommaso Ciampa was not one that Sylvia could believe would ever turn his back on those that he truly loved and cared about.
And yet…
Underneath the cool, casual demeanor of the man who stood soaking in the adoration of the fans, there still seemed to be a darker feeling in the pit of Sylvia's stomach that just wouldn't go away. There was something unspoken, unmoving, bubbling just under the surface of the new challenger for Mark Briscoe's TNT Championship.
And maybe it was time to take a trip to find out just what that something was for herself.
The gold that Spike Trivet wore around his waist was not the most important thing in his life, and at his core he knew that. At the very core of Spike's cold, black heart there were only three things that kept it beating. The first two, side-by-side in their importance were his beloveds, Elijah and Sadie. They kept him going with their wit and charm and strength. While they stood linked arm-in-arm and side-by-side, there was one person who pushed his way to the very front of Spike's reasons to keep going, no matter how small he was. Spike knew that even if Elijah and Sadie asked him to refrain from returning to the life of cruelty and debauchery that he often still found himself wanting to return to, it wasn't the two of them that Spike had been willing to change for.
No, that honor went to his two-year-old son who currently slept with his thumb in his mouth, his plump little fist curled around the upper edge of the little blue baby blanket he was snuggled tightly into.
Arthur, the rightful heir to Spike Trivet's bloodline and much more importantly his heart, had long since graduated from the brown wooden crib that had been passed down through the Cullen family in the bedroom that had once been the nursery. Despite the dark forest green of the walls being against the typical rules of a Montessori bedroom, the two sized mattress of the wooden framed floor bed was supposedly one of the best of its kind. The light wood surrounded the mattress with a slated railing while in the back was a simply shelving unit decorated with Arthur's favorite stuffed animals ranging in size and species from a little possum given to him by Sadie's older brother to the little vulture Spike had been insistent upon in order to make sure that his son was not afraid of the gimmick that he used in his professional life. The changing table against the opposite wall had been switched out for an open wooden wardrobe the same color as the bed, small enough that Arthur could help in the decision to pick out his own clothing as a part of the morning routine. Even the rocking chair by the window had moved to a different section of the room, to one of the corners where two low wooden bookshelves with all of Arthur's picture books created a perfect little reading nook.
The moon filtered in through the curtains, casting its gauzy beams over the bed where Arthur snuggled closer to the blanket as Spike stood in the open doorway watching his son with a soft smile. Arthur had truly changed his life in more ways than Spike could have ever imagined. There were no thoughts of moving his career forward or the ways that he could live up to his professional monikers when he was in the presence of the little lad. The only thoughts in Spike's mind when he was around his son were what snacks his little prince wanted or how he could see the smile widen across his son's face. It was moments like these that reminded Spike that he was, in fact, not his father. He couldn't imagine sending Arthur off to Eton to be another man's problem as his own father had once done to him. He couldn't imagine doing anything that would separate the precious time that he had with the proof that he was indeed capable of goodness and caring for another. With a warm smile, Spike left the door to his son's bedroom cracked open slightly as he moved down the hall to the master bedroom, quiet as a mouse to make sure that the sound of his feet crossing the soft carpet didn't wake the graceful dancer who currently slept in his bed.
The soft smile didn't budge from Spike's face, if anything, he found it deepening as he took in the sleeping form of his Sadie. Since his time in a new company, these nights had become rarer. Video calls between the two were how they kept in touch when Spike's career on the road as a wrestler clashed with the timing of Sadie's career as the prima ballerina of the New York ballet scene. His cold, ice blue eyes watched the gentle curve of her body with every soft and slow breath. His hand moved to brush a strand of her chestnut brown hair out of her slender face, trying not to wake her and cursing silently as her breathing changed and her soft brown eyes fluttered open, "Wha…Simon?"
"Sorry, love," Spike apologized, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her forehead, "I didn't mean to wake you."
Sadie snuggled closer to Spike, pressing a gentle kiss to his thin lips, "Why are you still awake, Simon? You should be resting."
"Was just checking on the little lad while I couldn't sleep," Spike assured, one of his arms draping over Sadie underneath the large white comforter they now rested beneath together. Spike could feel the warmth she radiated, even through the silk pajama set she wore, "He's out like a rock with that blanket of his."
"He's not got his thumb in his mouth, has he?" Sadei hadn't even been up for five minutes before snapping into mothering mode, something Spike admired about her. Sadie always tended to be very studious, very serious, about everything in her life. And yet, there was a roguish playfulness to her that Spike knew he needed in his life, "The books say-"
"Let him suck his thumb for now," Spike chuckled, "I did when I was his age. I turned out just fine, yes?"
Sadie pursed her lips for a moment, but let out a gentle sigh of relief as Spike's hand rubbed circles into her back, "If you say so, Simon. I dunno wha' I'd do if I did nae have ye."
Spike couldn't help the little chuckle of wonder that left his lips, even as Sadie turned into his arms so that her back was pressed against his front. He loved the gentle lilt of her Irish accent, thick in moments of sleep or moments of extreme emotions. He pressed a gentle kiss to her collar bone, voice low as his lips pressed against the shell of her ear, "You have that backward, my dancer. It was you who saved my life. You. Elijah. Our Arthur. This family made me a better man. I'm a bunch of broken pieces. It was you who made me whole."
Even before Spike had finished the statements, he could feel Sadie's breathing settle into a state of sleep yet again. It didn't matter to him, Spike decided as he closed his own eyes to settle into slumber. This was a sigh of her comfort, and lately, that was all he found himself truly wanting.
When Kat had come to Noah about wanting this match after some playful, and yet not so playful, banter between himself and Justin Starr; Noah had been looking forward to a match between himself and a woman he respected both in the ring and outside of it. Kat was one of the best women in the business, specifically in Ring of Honor, and Noah had always wanted to test his mettle against the woman. After all, he couldn't say that he was the best if he hadn't beaten the best. The problem had come with the change in Noah after his attack alongside Ethan Page on the Young Bucks. He had grown more ruthless, more willing to do whatever it took to get the things he wanted. And the main thing he wanted now?
Oh, Noah wanted to 𝘸𝘪𝘯.
Noah wanted to win so badly, that he had dragged Kat by the hair to the announcers table, glaring down at her with a snarl in his throat. She couldn't beat him. If Noah had anything to do with it, Kat 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 beat him. There was a slight moment of hesitation before Noah wrapped his arms around Kat's middle, slamming her hard through the table with a German Suplex. The wood collapsed with their weight, both competitors collapsing onto the floor. It had to be time. This had to be the way he would beat her. Noah was the first to his feet, although very unsteady. He grabbed Kat from her prone position on the mat, tossing her into the ring, before attempting a hasty pin.
A pin that only lasted for two.
With an angry growl, Noah shot up to yell at the referee, shouting in Bryce Remsberg's face before turning around to realize that somehow, Kat had stood. She had fight in her. She had a lot of fight in her, judging by the fierce forearm she threw Noah's way. It smashed across his face, sending Noah stumbling backward into the corner of the ring. A hard sweeping kick caught Noah in the cut, keeping him in the corner as he attempted to surge her away again. Kat didn't let up as she chopped him across the chest with a chop that Noah swore up and down was stronger than any her husband had ever thrown his way. Had Noah been thinking clearly, had he been less angry, this wouldn't have frustrated him so deeply.
That Noah had died the moment he decided to reform The North.
One of his hands came up to take a hard swipe at her face, the referee getting between the two in order to stop Noah from taking another swipe. Kat staggered backward and Noah wasted no time in charging her, hitting a hard spear to send the woman to the mat. He hoisted her up to her feet again, wrapping his arms around her waist for yet another German Suplex, before rolling her up into a second pin. That time, it was enough to do the job. Was it a cheating win, technically, yes.
There was a slight ache in the muscles of Noah Angle's neck as he turned his head to glance over his shoulder, the sound of the small bell over the doorframe of the diner's door letting him know someone else other than himself and his wife had entered the small roadside diner. That ache was a reminder of why this meeting had to happen in the first place. That ache was a reminder to Noah of his own mortality, of the match where he had not only lost his Unified Championship, but had almost lost so much more.
It was why Noah now knew what choice had to be made if his career was going to go anywhere other than remaining stagnant.
"Ethan! You made it!" Noah grinned as he pushed himself out of the red vinyl diner booth, standing to embrace his friend. He couldn't count how many places like this, little slices of Americana strewn throughout small towns in the heart of the country where he was born and raised, the two had been to together while making towns for the companies they worked for together. Breaking the hug, he gave a small gesture with his hand, "Kenna's sitting next to me. Take the spot across."
Ethan's wide trademark grin was nowhere in sight as he slid into the vinyl booth, mirroring Noah's own silence as McKenna moved in from the hallway at the side of the white marble countertop. She gently took Noah's hand that rested on the space of the seat between them, giving it a confirming squeeze. McKenna knew how important today was, why the meeting between two best friends was so important. Noah hadn't even dared to try and make this decision without her support first, "You told me not to bring Nolee, but you brought McKenna?"
"Figured Nols was busy with working to make it to the finals of the Owen Cup," Noah shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, even if it was a little bit of a lie, "We want her to be at her best, yeah? Aly's looking forward to that match too much for Nolee not to be at her best."
Ethan gave a warm smile, placing an order with the waitress for a Diet Coke, "So. Um, Your neck? How are you? We were all…that moment with Bridon was scary, man."
"I was scared too," McKenna admitted, giving an assuring smile to Ethan, "we just had his doctors appointment yesterday. Noah…well…we decided it was time to talk about…"
"Doc says I'm good to go," Noah let out an easy breath, relishing in the fact that he was able to make that announcement. It felt good after a month away from the career he loved so much to be told he could return to action. Any other man would have gone straight for the man who injured him, but Noah had no intention on going for the title he once held. No, if Noah was being honest with himself he hadn't been happy holding the mid-card title on his own. If he was going to stay out of the World Title picture, Noah was going to do it alongside the people he cared the most about. "We talked about reforming The North once, Ethan. Would that still be something you were interested in?"
There it was. There was the wide smile, dimples in reveal and a warm light in Ethan's cool blue eyes, "You mean that, Noah? It's time?"
"Told you he'd be excited," McKenna's warm chuckle flooded through Noah's ears, settling on his soul in a way that let Noah remember it always belonged there. He cut his steel gray eyes toward his wife, letting her know that they weren't in the clear just yet, "You boys deserve to be back on top."
"We've talked about this for a while," Ethan draped his arm over the back of the booth behind him, at ease with this newfound revelation, "The North deserve a chance to show the world just how good we are."
"Good," Noah nodded as he took a sip of his own drink, having treated himself to a chocolate milkshake instead of a soda or water. He sucked the liquid through the straw hard, smirking deeply in satisfaction with his choice as he pulled away, "I guess the North are back together."
"I'll tell Nolee-"
"Actually," McKenna cut him off with a tap against the table, shaking her head, "See…that's not a great idea…"
"Kenna's right, as usual," Noah leaned back against the back of the booth, drumming his own fingers on the table, "If we're going to be the best, Ethan, we have to be tag team champions. You know that's going to be a problem for her."
In that moment, Ethan's smile fell as he realized why he couldn't tell the woman he loved about the team that they had built their early careers inside together. "Matt and Nick…Matt and Nick understand. They'll give us the match that we want."
"We dont' need handouts, Ethan," Noah seemed annoyed at the very prospect of being handed a title match, sniffing with indignance, letting in the uniquely greasy aroma of the diner cut only by the vanilla essence of the wife that sat next to him. "I have a plan for this. I have a plan to do what needs to be done. All I'm asking is we don't tell Nols just yet, and that you trust me."
The brow of his best friend furrowed, dark eyebrows knitting together as he looked down at the smooth tabletop in front of him, "Promise…promise me she won't get hurt."
"I won't let her get hurt," McKenna promised on behalf of her husband, "You know she's one of my best friends. We promise she'll be invited as soon as we do this one thing."
Once again the silence that momentarily fell over the table was uncomfortable, enough to make Noah's skin itch underneath. This entire plan, his entire world, hinged on Ethan's agreeing to reform The North. To Noah, he didn't know how to move on if the answer was no. His steel blue eyes watched Ethan's hand flex and unflex around the cool glass in front of him, before watching the expression on Ethan's face for any hint of his decision. "So? What's the answer?"
"I…I'm in," Ethan gave a quick nod, as if only making up the decision for himself, "I'm in. This is good for us, right? This is good for you. We can do this."
Noah playfully slapped the table, the grin cracking across his face finally crinkling the edges of his eyes, "There we are! I knew you'd be down for this!"
Ethan's smile was less ear to ear brimming white, and more simple and soft as he watched the excitement in his best friend, "There's no team that can beat us. I…uh…I'm gonna step out for a minute. If the waitress comes back, get me that Cobb salad."
Ethan pushed his way out of the booth, headed down the small side hallway that McKenna had entered from, the smile on Noah's face dropping as soon as Ethan was out of ear shot, "Am I coming out of left field or did he hesitate?"
McKenna squeezed her husband's hand again, "You knew this was going to be a hard sell, Noah. Let him have a moment. We'll be ready if he's not."
"And if it gets too bad? If he falters?" Noah raised an eyebrow, though he was certain of the answer that stood before him.
"We'll handle it," McKenna answered with a sure nod, leaning over to press a kiss to Noah's cheek.
"You're damn right we will," Noah turned his head to press his lips to his wife's, "Together."
With a low gasp of a breath, the man known to very few as Austin Matelson bolted upright in the king-sized bed in the quiet of his dark bedroom. This wasn't the forest of a long forgotten primeval world, far from it in all actuality. The closest thing in his home to one of the massive conifers with their sharp needle-filled branches were the few houseplants he had managed to keep alive. HIs skin wasn't rough at all, in fact thanks to his warm shower earlier taken in an effort to lull him into a peaceful sleep, his skin felt soft with the rose-scented exfoliating scrub he used, the floral scent making him feel even more at ease. No, no the dream of a world that was terrified of him was in no way the truth, no matter how very real it had seemed. His large hands scrubbed over his face as Austin tried to catch his breath, not wanting to wake what was supposed to be his sleeping partner next to him.
When he felt a small, feminine hand on his too warm shoulder, Austin knew that his partner was indeed not sleeping.
"Grace," he turned his head to look at the woman behind him with a gentle fondness in his darkened brown eyes, still heavy from lack of a peaceful sleep, "did I-"
"Nae, nae," the gentle Scottish lilt was soft in the darkened room, shining green eyes bright even in the darkness behind him, "I just finished doing some reading. Trying tae work on some personalized lesson plans for some of the older students."
A small smile took Austin's lips, eyes cutting down to his lap covered by the thick black bed covers. It was no surprise to Austin that he'd ended up falling in love with a woman who was not only well aware of the world of professional wrestling, but someone who loved literature just as well as he did. Grace had been that woman. While Austin would have loved to have had a chance meeting, a one off interaction that led to more, that was far from it. Long before he had stalked the halls of AEW, there had been another company that Austin had hoped would be his forever home, a company he had only spent a few years in as he toiled away in the Florida heat to prove how worthy he was. Grace had been visiting a friend of her and her brothers, an Englishman who considered himself bad news, but had always been willing to have a brilliant conversation with Austin about the books he had been reading. In the beginning, Austin hadn't been interested. He hadn't wanted anything more than a friendship, but Grace had a way of making herself comfortable in the hearts of those around her.
His personal reading might have fallen by the wayside after…well…the less that Austin had to think about the time had had spent under the oppressive thumb of Christian Cage, the better. Austin's throat still ached when he tried to speak, as if he could still feel the electricity buzzing through the flesh at its center and spreading down into the upper parts of his shoulders. He struggled to find words, trying hard to say anything to show his support for Grace, only to let out a small and frustrated growl when he couldn't produce any.
"Shh, shh," Grace protested to stop Austin from trying to speak up if he wasn't ready. She wrapped her arms around Austin's tree trunk esque torso, her long legs wrapped around his thick waist. She pressed a gentle kiss to the crook of his shoulder, before resting her pointed chin on the smooth flesh. "You haven't got tae talk. You never have tae talk if ya dinnae want tae."
"Words. Hard," Austin growled, the dream he had of…he didn't want to call it a life before, but it was starting to feel as if there was no other way to describe it other than as a life he had once lived in a much different world. The dream felt even more real in this moment, as if his fingers would extend painfully with cracks and snaps into the long and pointed black claws he could feel in his dreams. He cracked his lower jaw, moving it from side-to-side, almost waiting for the sharp teeth to press through his gums.
"We don't have to talk," Grace tried to assured with a gentle hum, her fingers splayed comfortably against his stomach, feeling the little bit of fuzz that covered his stomach. "If words are hard, we never have to talk. Not until you're ready."
Austin could feel the angry tears starting to fill his eyes as he blinked into the darkness of the bedroom. How was he supposed to explain that he no longer felt like himself, that he hadn't felt like the well-read master's level college graduate since long before his run alongside Jack and Christian had ended. While a part of Austin knew it was different now, that he no longer geared the man he worked alongside and had gone back to being a parental figure to the Perry twins he had come to the company with, there was still a part of Austin that felt so fundamentally changed by he didn't know how to be the man he was. With a growl, he managed to utter only one monosyllabic word, "Why?"
"Why? Why what, Austin?" Grace seemed confused for just a moment, trying to knit together the question in her beloved's low growl.
"Why. Can't. I-" he growled low again, one of his large hands covering one of her much smaller ones, dragging it past his chest until her fingers sat at the bottom of his throat, "Why?"
"Oh, lovie…" Grace's voice was full of a sudden sadness, almost veering into pity, and to Austin there was nothing worse than pity, "You went through a large trauma. Christian wasn't good to you. This? All of this? It's only cause you're human."
Human. That almost felt wrong to Austin. Did humans have the sort of dreams that left them feeling so viscerally scared of who they once might have been? Was he scared of what he could feel himself doing in that dream? Picking something small, something helpless, up in overly large claws and tearing it asunder? The hot, heavy tears that splashed against the covers bunched up around his waist revealed that he was, deep in his core, scared to be anything like that monster. Even worse, Austin was afraid that in the eyes of the Perry Twins, who he had once betrayed in order to try and make his career go further, the monster who had stabbed them in the back with long claws to get what he wanted. Austin relaxed into her arms, letting Grace guide him back into laying back down. She quickly manuevered so that her red-hair fanned out over Austin's tattooed chest, listening to his heartbeat. One of his hands moved up to stroke her hair, as if using it to calm down the nerves that he felt inside.
Did he feel human? Not particularly.
Did he feel a little more human in the arms of a woman he loved? Absolutely.
Never in her life did Kelani Johnson think that she would be booked on the sort of independent show where a man would take a straight razor to another's head, but here she sat with her back against a back hallway wall and her knees pulled all the way up to her chest honey brown eyes wide as she watched in abject horror as the shiny metal blade dug straight into the flesh of Matt Tremont. This wasn't the sort of career that Kelani had always imagined that she would have once she started her career in the world of professional wrestling. It was in her last name, after all. Her father had never stepped through the ropes of a company like this, and a part of Kelani had never imagined she would be making these first few steps. She wasn't as strong as her cousin Jacob, nor was she as willing to commit such strong acts of violence. Kelani was only herself, and right now?
Right now, as she watched the straight razor of Otis Cogar carve into the flesh of Matt Tremont, Kelani Johnson felt as if she should have never accepted the only booking she had been offered during WrestleMania weekend.
Kelani scrubbed her hands over her round face, trying not to feel as if she were going to gag. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. She was too soft and squishy for a company like Game Changer Wrestling. Part of her wondered why she had even told her childhood best friend, GCW stalwart Wyatt Foley, yes when he asked if she wanted to take part in a match. Wyatt had promised it was a comedy match, something called The Clusterfuck. The opening match made her seriously doubt what would happen during the course of the supposed comedy match she had agreed to.
"Lani, can I get a few words about…woah…you don't look so good…"
Kelani didn't need to pull her hands away from her face where her palms were pressed so tightly against the area around his eyes that she felt that her honey brown orbs would be pushed violently all the way back into the very back parts of her skull. That voice belonged to Brandon Cutler, her Brandon, as he hid behind the camera that he almost always held in his hands during a show so that he could get the most perfect shots for Being the Elite. It was the preferred shield of her perfect Ser Galahad, a Galahad that she currently wanted to strangle on camera for the BTE fans to enjoy, "I wanna go home…"
"Oh, babe," Brandon sat down on the floor of the hallway with her, his knees pulled up to his chest in a position that mirrored Kelani's. He sat the handheld camera down across from the duo gingerly, Kelani knowing that he hadn't bothered to turn it off before doing so. His thin lips turned into a deep frown, almost hidden in his beard, "You know we can't go home. What's really going on?"
"Did you know if we left the arena and got in the rental car right now, we could be in Anaheim in four hours?" Kelani questioned, meeting Brandon's question with one of her own. Plump hands pulled at one of her thick black curls in an almost nervous way. "If we go now. Right now. Can we please go right now?"
"Nervous, huh?" Brandon reached a hand over to stop her from tugging his hand at her curls, "Not use to being in places like this?"
"Did you not see what happened!?" Kelani sounded exasperated, gesturing towards the curtain with the ring laying just down the steps and short ramp, "That man cut into that other man's head! There were light tubes and barbed wire and…and…"
"And it's a death match, Kelani," Brandon attempted to reassure his partner, one of his hands laying calmly on her upper back, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple. "Those two are supposed to be beating the hell out of each other. Tremont and Cogar can't stand each other. You're not gonna have to worry about it."
There was a moment as Kelani sniffled, trying to get her emotions under control. Even if she wasn't going to be sliced up or cut or maimed by people like the two mad men in the ring, there was still fear pressing against the lowest chambers of her too soft bleeding heart. "Wh…what if they don't like me?"
Brandon shook his head, looking at her with such warmth in his soft eyes, "Whatever could you mean by that? Who could hate you?"
"You know why they'd hate me," Kelani protested with a dramatic sigh, though she leaned into Brandon's side. "I'm a 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒏. My dad has been one of the biggest targets in professional wrestling over the last few years, rightfully so. What if…you know what they could chant at me…"
For a long moment, there was a heavy silence between the two. Brandon knew all too well what Kelani was afraid to hear every single time that she headed down to the ring, as if the very words from the audience could break her down into nothing. The words 𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒆 had haunted the Johnson family since before Kelani had been born, when her father had been the same sort of bright eyed and bushy tailed face that Kelani found herself as now. Brandon had only ever heard the audiences boo Kelani during one part of her career, when she had joined the Jericho Appreciation Society, but even then they had never gone as far as to chant those three awful words at her. "Babe…I don't think…"
"And what if they do?" Kelani pushed again, brow furrowed in frustration.
"Well…" Brandon thought about it for a moment, "if they want to be awful to you? You give them a reason to be. If they wanna make you into the villain, show them a villain! Beat all of their indie darlings really good."
Kelani looked up at Brandon through thick, long lashes; adoration in her own eyes as Brandon rubbed small circles against her back over the top of her black sports bra like top that was meant to pair with her red shorts to make her look like Mickey Mouse. "I dunno what I'd do without you here with me."
Brandon shook his head almost sheepishly, "Oh, it's not…"
"No, no," Kelani tutted in an effort to admonish Brandon, "you have to take credit for who you are if I have to treat myself with more confidence."
"You know what, fair! That's fair!" Brandon laughed as he picked up the camera, turning its lens to focus only on a shot of Kelani, who had pushed herself into a standing position. Large hands were placed on either side of her hips in an imitation of the typical Wonder Woman power stance, "Now! Kelani Johnson, what do you have to say?! How are we feeling before our GCW debut?"
Kelani beamed at Brandon, wrapping her arms around his neck, face close up to the camera, "All this for content, camera man? Cold. Real cold."
Brandon laughed, shaking his head, "For content, Lani? Nah, I wouldn't do that to you. This is to make you feel as good as you should. One push is all it takes."
Whispers in the hallways mocked Lillie Cueto as she made her way through the winding halls of the Louis Armstrong Stadium. The loss wasn't supposed to happen. It 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 have happened. Of all the people that Lillie Cueto had found herself managing over the years, from Adam Cole to Sammy Guevara, the only person Lillie had ever truly believed to be the greatest was Kris Statlander. Seeing the AEW Women's Champion losing on her home turf in New York against a woman so much more inferior like a manager had not been something that Lillie truly wanted to see on the schedule, even if there was a part of her that knew why it had to happen. Kris was supposed to be infallible, strong enough to throw her talents at any opponent. Losing was never meant to happen with her. That was why the whispers followed Lillie from her office to the private locker room that her beloveds used.
The locker room that revealed itself to be in shambles as Lillie pushed over the door told the young woman everything that she needed to know.
The floor length mirror near the door for the private bathroom had been shattered, the reflective shards littering the carpeted floor underneath in a mess that would be a nightmare for janitorial to clean. Their surface only made the flickering fluorescent lights above reflect even more, their low thrum sounding over the otherwise quiet room. One of the rooms benches had been turned over, denting the nearby lockers from the sheer force of whatever- or whoever- had thrown it in their anger. In the center of the chaos, her head in between her forearms as her hands clenched deep in her hair, elbows resting on her knees that had been drawn up to her chest, was Kris Statlander. Her makeup was streaked, the steel blue face paint she had decorated underneath her eyes mixing with the blood-like tears that her kind produced down her cheeks. Her dark lipstick was smudged over her mouth, past the corners of her lips. Lillie could practically feel the rage radiating from her partner, from the woman she loved so dearly.
Lillie smoothed out the skirt of the black dress she wore, kneeling on the floor across from where Kris was having her mental break. One of her hands reached out to take a gentle hold of Kris' arm in an effort to calm her down, "Love…please…"
Kris withdrew from Lillie's grasp as if the fingers on her arm burned her, scooting backward on the carpet until her fingers and palm were splayed in the shards of glass. Lillie recognized the pattern on Kris' knuckles as how the mirror had gotten broken, a shard still lodged in the cut on her knuckles. The skin around the cuts hadn't begun the healing process yet, letting Lillie know that Kris would need to feed to close up the wound. Kris' eyes seemed full of rage, but there was also a hint of fear just beneath the surface, "I lost…"
"I know," Lillie pursed her lips, folding her hands in her lap. Her honey brown eyes didn't break from Kris, referring to look away, "To a flying elbow. Commentary called it the Heartseeker."
Kris downcast her eyes, as if locking eyes with Lillie would bring something to light that she wasn't able to reveal, "I know. I know I could hear them."
Lillie attempted to reach another hand out to Kris, slowly, to try and see if Kris would react just as negatively as before, "You could hear commentary from where you-"
"Heightened senses," Kris reminded Lillie, letting the other woman place her hand on Kris' leg, "I could hear every word they said about me, about that match."
"Your power is growing," Lillie remarked, scooting closer to Kirs until the woman's knees were pressed up against her own chest, "Extraordinary, really."
"I 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡, Lillie," Kris ran the back of her hand across her cheeks, "I lost to a manager. Why aren't you angrier about this?"
That was a very loaded answer. How was she supposed to tell Kris that the loss was what Lillie had been told to plan on? Kris losing was going to lead to the scorched earth for the rest of the industry that had been foreseen by those with more power than she held. Kris losing would lead the woman's champion to becoming the woman that would bring herself so much more fame than anyone could ever imagine. At least that was what Lillie had been told by the expert she had hired to assess the situation. So, on one hand, the reason Lillie wasn't angry about the loss was the fact that the lass was simply necessary.
On the other…
"Because I love you," Lillie gave a simple shrug, a soft smile across her lips. The hand that didn't rest on Kris' leg reacted up to push a strand of Kris' dark hair from her face, fingers trailing along her jaw, "That doesn't change if you win or lose. I love you, mi hermosa estrella."
Kris pressed her cheek, cold as ice, against the warm skin of Lillie's tanned hand. There was a comfort in the skin to skin contact, in the nearness of one another. "I could have won. I 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 have won. If I can't beat that twerp then how do I…Devin is worse. You know Devin is worse."
Lillie did indeed know that Devin Heraldry was capable of far worse than Tori Thompson would have ever been able to even begin to fathom. For starters, Devin possessed the same supernatural abilities that Kris did, perhaps even more severe since Devin was her sire. On top of that, Devin was an established death match wrestler. He would always be able to withstand Kris' onslaught far more than Tori should have been able to. With a deep breath to calm her nerves, Lillie gave a shake of her head, "I know. I know. But we don't have to worry about that, si? That's a problem for a later date. Right now, we sit. We wait. We regroup."
"We?"
There was an air of heartbreak to Kris' voice, as if she were seeking some sort of reassurance. Lillie rubbed her thumb across Kris' cheek, "We. Always."
Kris drew in what was a mockery of a breath, pressing a kiss to Lillie's palm before she pushed herself to her feet. She didn't wince or flinch as the palm that was pressed hard into the glass shards created a crunching noise, even as Lillie watched a few more of the shards dig into her skin. Kris glanced down at her palm, brow furrowing as if she were trying to decide how she should feel. Her eyes glanced around the room, taking in the destruction she had wrought to their private room, "I…I did this?"
"Never seen anyone create quite a miss," Lillie clicked her tongue as she pushed herself into a standing position, hands on her hips as she surveyed the room, "Janitorial will need a few extra payments for sure."
"Nova and Cass are-"
"Fine," Lillie cut her off with a small nod, "She's walking Cass to the ring for his fight with Gargano tonight. By the time they come back with that title, we'll be ready to go back to the suite."
Kris stretched her fingers out without so much as a wince, even as the very act of stretching created a loud popping sound, "Glass needs removing."
"I don't know if my hands are steady enough tonight," Lillie admitted as she moved to wrap an arm around Kris' waist, "but we can get you to Charlie. For all her faults, she is both adept and discreet. We need her given…everything."
Charlotte James, the head of the medical department, might have been firmly against both Kris and Lillie give her ties to the coward Kris once called a friend in Will Ospreay, but she was the only professional who understood the complexities of what Kris was, "And then?"
"I'm not entirely sure about you, but I'm famished and need to 𝑒𝑎𝑡," Lillie hope that Kris would understand the implications of her statement, "We can get nice and cozy in my office, enjoy a nice meal together."
"Together?" Kris reiterated, one of her hands squeezing one of Lillie's.
"Together," Lillie pressed a gentle kiss to Kris' temple, "After all, there is no me without you."
