Piledriver Waltz: A Fem!Reader (Y/N) x CM Punk long form slow burn
(Roughly inspired by, but a loose interpretation of, the real time line, kayfabe lines a little blurred here and there, mentions of other WWE Wrestlers) (Y/N is canonically around the same age as CM Punk for story purposes, but otherwise fairly vaguely described)
~*~ CW: Language, brief alcohol mentions, eventual smut in later chapters, but its a slow, slow burn with a lot of angst and tension until then.~*~
"If you're gonna try and walk on water, make sure you wear your comfortable shoes"
After a tumultuous run in AEW and a redemption in TNA, you have just gotten the call up to join WWE. Except, you haven't spoken or seen your long time friend CM Punk since one particularly scandalous press release in AEW. Is two years too long to fix what was said? Or what was left unsaid?
Chapter 1
"I heard an unhappy ending, it sort of sounds like you leaving,
I heard the piledriver waltz, it woke me up this morning"
You undressed and inspected yourself in the mirror, looking over bruises and scrapes from your match, a small hiss escaping your lips as you pressed a particularly dark bruise on your thigh. You'd live, but you wish you could also ache less while you did it.
As the steam from the shower clouded the mirror and blurred your view, you sighed and stepped under the hot, streaming water.
"I'm hurt, I'm old, I'm tired. And I work with a bunch of children."
His words echoed like you'd just heard them for the first time. 4 years ago he brought you in to AEW and then 2 years into it, he left. Insulting you like the rest of them on his way.
You rolled your eyes and shampooed your scalp a little more aggressively.
"You are old, of course you're tired. Of course everyone seems like a child when you're so old. You callous old fuck."
You growled to yourself, trying to block his echoing words in your head as you rinsed the suds from your hair, combing conditioner through with your fingers.
"That's why you went back. You needed to be around other old fucking creeps." You grumbled, switching to scrubbing your legs, ignoring the sting of soap in your scratches.
These one-sided arguments were what kept you angry at him, instead of letting yourself sink into the feeling of being abandoned by your closest friend of almost 20 years.
You had joined AEW with him, then left AEW after him, of course. You tried to stay for a while but The locker rooms at AEW were too empty, catering was too quiet. Then the traveling was miserable. Everyone looked at you like you had an untreated broken leg all the time, so riding for 8 hours with someone quickly became either an extended pity party or an investigative interview, either way, Punk was at the center of the conversation. He always had been. So you left, did your time in the indies and Japan, and now you were making a name for yourself at TNA. Successful for where you were in your career.
You redressed and sighed as you looked down at your make up bag, its contents strewn across the hotel sink. Begrudgingly, you started applying eyeliner, mind still arguing with a man who hadn't been there for the past 3 years.
You sprayed finishing spray over all of it and sighed again, steeling yourself in the mirror as you fanned the mist dry with your hands.
"You are going to go and have fun. You are going to enjoy yourself. It's going to be easy. He won't be there. You won't get asked about him. You're going to have fun."
Your face in the mirror didn't look any more convincing than you sounded. With a sigh, you pushed your hair back off your face, took a slow deep breath, and pushed off the edge of the counter to put on shoes so you could leave.
You stepped into the club and looked around. You saw a handful of familiar faces crammed into a booth, laughing and carrying on together. You sighed softly and went and sat at the bar. The bartender nodded towards you, his hands filling a pint glass. "Ginger ale, please, when you get a second." You asked loudly, holding out your credit card. He nodded again and took it before getting to work. You absentmindedly rolled the edge of your napkin. "Tab?" He asked, sitting the drink in front of you. You thought about it for a moment and shook your head instead. "Nah, just close me out. Thank you." He nodded again, slid you the receipt and your card and stepped away to help someone else. You scribbled a tip and your signature, put your cards and wallet away, then slipped off the edge of the bar stool and into the edge of the crowd. You sipped your drink, eyes scanning for anyone that wasn't already occupied, but was still enjoyable to be around.
Your drink splashed out of your glass as someone bumped into you from behind. "Oh shit, shit my bad." Came the low draw. You opened your mouth to reply, only to be surprised to see AJ Styles as your assailant.
"Oh, it's you." He said with a friendly smile.
"That doesn't make it okay." You replied with an arched eyebrow, your own smile fighting it's way out. He grinned more broadly. "Then let me make it okay. C'mon." He put a gentle hand on the small of your back and started guiding you towards the bar. AJ was no stranger to the TNA roster, not even to you. He was one of the few people that still talked to you like you had a career beyond Punk. You appreciated how casual he could make professional talk. It disarmed you and let you exhale so you could actually enjoy the conversations.
You swallowed the remainder of your drink, leaving the cherry and orange slice in the bottom of the glass, before setting it towards the back of the bar.
"Let me get two fingers of bourbon, something top shelf, neat. And a-" he surveyed your glass. "Ginger ale." You offered. The bartender nodded and quickly got to work. "Thanks." You added, bumping your shoulder into his. He smiled down at you. "Yeah man, I spilled your drink. Least I could do." The bartender handed him both drinks and he handed yours over. "You got a minute?" He asked, a little more serious than before.
You nodded before taking a sip from your cocktail straw. "Yeah, I've got time." He nodded towards the smoker's deck. "C'mon." He started off and you immediately followed. Both of you exhaled as the cool night air swept over you, neither one had realized how warm it was inside and you both welcomed the refreshing breeze.
After a beat of comfortable silence and untensing of shoulders, he looked over at you.
"You did good tonight. Real good." You raised an eyebrow. "You watched? You didn't have work?" He looked back up at the lights above the two of you. "I did. Both." You squinted at him, not following. "Listen," he started. "WWE is working to sign a deal with TNA." You inhaled, but he held out a hand to stop you from saying anything. "But, I was asked to come survey and see if there was anyone I thought could make the jump instead of just using the door, y'know?" You nodded and he continued. "I think you should come out to the PC and give it a couple days. See how you fit in. See if you like it." You started to sigh and he held his hand up again. "If you get there and you hate it, it won't burn your bridge. They're still going to make the deal, you'll still be able to try again in the future. But I think we both know you're ready for more. AEW didn't have the pull, ROH is too underground, TNA, as much as I love it, it's no WWE when it comes to publicity." You begrudgingly nodded as you sipped from your straw again. He watched you digest what he'd said, sipping his own drink. You looked down at your feet then back up at the sky before finally turning back to AJ. "Yeah. Thank you, I think I'd like that." He grinned. "Hell yeah, man. I'll let them know in the morning." He clinked his glass against yours and you laughed softly before taking another drink.
You rolled your neck as you walked up to the Performance Center, clutching the strap of your gym bag hanging on your shoulder. You took a steadying breath and pushed through the doors.
The lobby was almost clinical, all white and silver and glass, like the 2000's version of the future.
The secretary smiled broadly at you. "Good morning! Welcome to the Performance Center! You must be (Y/N), right?" You nodded, surprised by the personal greeting. "Yeah, that's me." The secretary held up a beige folder with Y/N L/N on the tab, smile still firmly in place. "I just need you to do some paperwork, follow me back and I'll get you all set up." You nodded and followed the secretary back to a small office, the sounds of bodies crashing into rings echoing through the hallways. You stopped and craned your neck to try and see through the double doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of any sort of ally waiting beyond them. "Miss?" The secretary called, her head poking out of an open office door. Y/N shook her head slightly and smiled sheepishly, an embarrassed blush coloring your cheeks. "Right, sorry." The secretary smiled fondly as she closed the door behind them. "Oh, everyone's always so eager to get in there. You just have to sign a couple things with management and you'll be on your way." She gave an encouraging smile and slipped out of the room, presumably to get the so called Management.
You looked down at your thumbnails, paint chipping, edges unfiled. "Unimportant. You're here to wrestle." You chided yourself, choosing to ignore that you had purposefully dressed in some of your more accentuating gym clothes. A tight, brightly colored sports bra that fit more like a bustier than sports equipment, under a black tank top that was open and knotted in the back to show off the neon straps stretching across your muscles, then tight shorts that fit like a second skin, underneath a pair of black Adidas warm ups with a tapered leg that clutched the muscles in your calves.
"Hullo!" Came a friendly male voice as the door opened. You looked up and couldn't hide your surprise as Shawn Michaels walked in.
"Oh! Hel- Good morning, sir." You bumbled out, shaking his extended hand. He chuckled. "Shawn, please." He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat down behind the desk. You nodded, fighting your nerves. It felt real now. You could feel the weight of your decision, what the cost might be if you went forward.
He finished reading over the papers and looked up at you.
"I'm gonna be honest," he started. You swallowed nervously. "I can't believe it's taken this long to get you in here." He finished with a charming, almost boyish, grin. You let out a relieved laugh.
"You want a coffee or an energy drink or something? There's a mountain of Prime in the back I can't seem to get rid of that you're more than welcome to." He joked, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb, making you laugh again, the tension finally starting to loosen. He opened a small fridge next to his desk and gestured towards the options. "Help yourself." "Thank you." You said, sincerely, taking a canned energy drink and cracking into it. The cold drink helped soothe your frayed nerves. He gave you a minute as he looked over your file again.
"I'll level with you kid. You're impressive. No doubt AJ told you about the deal we're working on. I, we, the WWE, think you could have a solid run to usher in the TNA/WWE Era. Like an appetizer to a main course."
You nodded, surprised and flattered.
"I know we've got lots of friendly faces, hell TNA's the house AJ Styles built, but you'd be coming in hot off your TNA run, that'd prime you for a run here. I can't promise gold right away, but I can get you on screen, and we can make your name known."
You nodded again, all of this swirling in your head.
He held up a hand, a very understanding look on his face.
"No pressure. You don't have to decide right now, but I do still need you to sign some waivers and healthcare stuff, but that's just so you can get in the ring and bump while you're here. Just go have some fun, get a feel for it, and let me know. Sooner rather than later, ideally, but, again, no pressure." He added, with that same cheeky grin.
You let out a relieved laugh. "Thank you. I'll definitely think about it. You make it hard to say no, I'll be honest."
His grin grew. "Then don't. Sign on, give it a try, if you want to come to NXT I can lobby to get you a belt in a few months, but if you want to go straight to main roster we can certainly work towards that as well, it'll just be a little more development before you're launched." He laid a contract in front of you to look over. "You got a lawyer?" You blinked. "I have...input." He chuckled. "Take that home with you, read it, get your input. If you want it, sign it, bring it back. You don't, bring it back blank so I have it for the next time I ask." You smiled. "Okay." He nodded and slid some more papers over to you. "Good. Now get those all signed and you're free to get started." You skimmed the healthcare forms, filling them out as you went, making sure you weren't accidentally signing up for anything or agreeing to anything serious.
"I think that's it." You said finally, double checking the back of one of the forms before holding them back out to him. He smiled and took them back, after a quick once over he nodded again, slipped them back into your folder, and stood up. "Let's get you out there then, kid."
"This one is on the Submarine soundtrack although I didn’t write it specifically for that. I had a couple of things lying around that were too quiet to be Monkeys tunes – well, that’s what I thought, anyway. So I said, what about these and Richard [Ayoade] liked them. But then we were putting this together and I really thought it might fit in with ‘Thunderstorms’ and ‘Suck It And See’. So we thought why not just do another version [recorded with the full band] because the one on Submarine is just me and James, he played drums and there’s some strings and stuff on it. I think doing that Submarine album did lead me into some of the songs on this album too.”
