diskaywrites

[diskaywrites]

You're One Bridge I'd Like To Burn

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐍𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐎𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚, 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐊𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐀𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖𝟔𝟎

Nick Jackson was the biggest mistake that Nolee Angle had ever made. It was a fact that she could look at without the heartbreak that the initial breakup had brought. Had she not been so wrapped up in the glamor of being a member of the Elite, of following in the footsteps of the Impact World Champion Kenny Omega, then Nolee could have seen the red flags laid out before her. The truth of the matter was until she had gotten that title match against Kenny where duel superkicks from Matt and Nick Jackson had revealed the truth, the rose-colored glasses had hidden everything from her.

Four years and while her own life had changed, it seemed to be the only that had.

Nick and Matt were as duplicitous as ever, only this time it was against Kenny instead of for him. The new target of their loyalty seemed to be Kris Statlander, who had turned her back on her brother Tyler as well as the fans. The trio, under the leadership of a man named Jake Torres, the group had started to focus their attention on taking every championship they could, be it an AEW championship or not. Nolee had refused to join their ranks, even after Kris had tried to play on Nolee's fears of not finding her footing in the company she had been debuted in only months ago. At one point in time, Nolee would have backed down without a fight.

But Nolee had been changed over the last few years. She no longer wanted to follow the ideas of others. Her lengthy run as TNA World Champion had strengthened her resolve. All she wanted now was revenge against Kris and Nick and Matt, a revenge she had decided to begin by making sure Kris couldn't get her hands on the Ring of Honor Women's Championship. She had shown up to Collision, bag on her shoulder and determination in her eyes, only to be met by a familiar sight at the talent door.

Nick Jackson stood with his arms crossed over his chest, and Nolee lost herself to the memory of how things had once been Gone were the boyish good looks, replaced by a mature sophistication. It was no wonder the last time she and Kris had spoken, Nolee accidentally called him Nicky, despite having two partners in her Ethan and her Alyssa. The smirk on Nick's face let Nolee know he had been waiting specifically for her to show up to the arena. "I figured I'd tell you, you're banned from the arena, Nols."

Nolee felt as if she had been hit by one of the production buses, blinking at Nick as she pulled her bag in tighter, "Unreal! Un-fucking-real! I work here too!"

"We have precautions for things that could affect our main event, and we can't risk it," Nick's words barely sounded like his own words. She wondered if it was Matt or Kris, or even worse JT, who had coached Nick to say that. Technically, it was true. While she hadn't been booked the show tonight, her entire plan was to sabotage Kris against Athena. Nick was just doing her job, which was probably why the next word stuck to her so deeply, burrowing its way in between her ribcage, "Sorry."

Sorry? It was a word that she had longed to hear leaving the lips that had both whispered praise and left kisses that made her weak. Now here it was, and even though it was not directed towards the situation she had always wanted, it echoed throughout her mind, "You've never been sorry for a thing in your life, Nick."

"That's not true!" Nick protested. For a moment, Nolee thought that she saw a flash of sadness in those soft blue eyes. She hated those perfectly soulful eyes. Her chest pounded with every erratic beat of her heart, skin feeling hotter than the Chicago sun that beat down on the duo. Nick looked as if he wanted to say something, his tongue darting out over his bottom lip like it always did when he was thinking.

"That's the only truth that's ever remained about you, about Matt," Nolee let out a sharp bark of her laugh. She refused to look him in the eyes, unsure if she'd break or not. Her resolve had strengthened towards those she had been in the Elite with, but she wasn't entirely sure she was immune to those eyes.

Nick took a step forward, remorse in his eyes for a moment, "It really isn't."

Nolee let out a frustrated sound, stepping back, "I'm not arguing with you. I shouldn't even be talking to you!"

"Nols…I…"

Nolee pulled back from the hand he reached out to try and place on her own. For a moment the two simply stared at each other, as if both had something they wanted to say. Instead, Nolee turned on her heel and stormed back towards her rental car. She had to call Ethan and Aly. She had to let them know.

She had to get away from the feelings she was having for a bridge that should have remained burned.

[diskaywrites]

All This Time I Was Finding Myself

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐔𝐩 𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐢 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐎𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐓𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐎𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝟐𝟐

One Whirlybird and Archer Harrison had set the entire tone for All In weekend. It was a simple enough move, just a simple Airplane Spin, but it was the move that had won him the Ring of Honor Television Championship only months ago, before he had dropped the title to his fiancé's cousin, Oliver Copeland. The loss had broken him, but when faced with the chance to become World Champion, Archer had sworn he would do anything to capture his first World Championship.

One Whirlybird and the Ring of Honor Championship that now sat on his shoulder shone brightly, second only to the ear-to-ear grin that spread across his face. The moment was big for so many reasons and Archer knew exactly what it meant. If he could win the Ring of Honor Championship, then when it came to the All Elite Wrestling World Championship at All In, his best friend Tyler Statlander could do what needed to be done against their former friend who had been ruling AEW like a tyrant, Will Ospreay. The wrongs that the company had fallen into could be righted. If Archer Harrison could do what needed to be done, then Tyler Statlander could follow suit.

"It can be done," Archer grinned over the top of his beer bottle as he sat across from Tyler in the small lounge area on the top of the hotel they were staying at, an area decorated with chairs and fairy lights. "If I can win the big one, you can win the big one. We can do this."

Tyler ducked his head, shaking it for a moment, before he glanced back up at Archie with an amused smile, "You still don't get it, do you?"

"He's always been too hard on himself," chuckled a feminine voice that settled into the wicker chair closest to Archie, placing her manicured hand on Archie's knee. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦. The diminutive blonde had found a place in his heart, thawing out what he had previously thought permanently frozen. She sipped from the fruity drink that she had gone down to the hotel bar to retrieve, "You should know this by now."

Tyler laughed, "Since the day we first me."

"I'm serious, you two," Archie huffed as he settled back into his seat, "This is setting the tone for the weekend! This is-"

"Your moment you're trying to downplay," Charity's voice echoed in a sing-song manner, melodic in her chastising.

Archer rolled his eyes with yet another huff, sipping on his beer. Was she right? Technically, he supposed, but that didn't make him wrong. He watched Tyler for a moment, sensing that his best friend needed a distraction, "Guess you're right, Char. As the only champion at this little sit down, I should be much more self-absorbed."

"Oh great, we're gonna give him an ego," Tyler chuckled with an eye roll as he picked his own drink up off of the round table in front of him.

"The way I see it, he deserves to have an ego for a little big," Charity giggled as she circled the stir stick through her pink drink.

"So, loves," Archie let the corner of his lip turn into a grin that mirrored the one that had crossed his face when the referee had handed him the title that sat down in his hotel room on the bed, "I propose a toast!"

"To Archer Harrison, the valiant and strong champion," Charity mocked, raising her drink with a giggle.

"To Archie, the dickhead who still owes me a fiver for these drinks," Tyler raised his own drink with a playful snort.

"To a weekend full of change, ya knobs," Archie downed the rest of his drink, "to the three of us."

[diskaywrites]

If I Stand On My Own, So Be It

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐱 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐎𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐊𝐨𝐭𝐚 𝐈𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢, 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐉𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐱𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖𝟐𝟓

The cheers of the Texas crowd as Hangman Adam Page unlocked the briefcase that Jon Moxley and the rest of his cronies in the Death Riders had kept locked for the last nine months should have felt like he had ascended into godhood. He had saved AEW from the darkness that had threatened to tear the entire company asunder. Hero was the word so many had started to use in the buildup to this death match. Holding the AEW Championship high in the air as he stood on the turnbuckle should have felt like nothing could make him happier.

All Adam could focus on was that for the second time in his AEW career, Adam had climbed to the top of the mountain on his own, standing across from Matt and Nick Jackson as he challenged for a prize he always wanted to capture while standing side-by-side with the rest of the Elite. Adam certainly never would have seen himself standing alongside Swerve Strickland in a moment like this, but people could change. Men like Swerve Strickland could let bygones be bygones, and men like the Jackson brothers, well, they could lose themselves to greed and fear.

The changing nature of men, however, could still not prepare Adam Page for the first person he saw once he pushed past the curtain leading to the gorilla position. Kenny Omega stood, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of Kota Ibushi, and smiling at him like Adam was the sun.

"I tried to tell him," Kota huffed, giving Adam an exasperated look.

"And I told you," Kenny chuckled, trying to hide the way that his face scrunched up in agon. Adam couldn't help but move to try and help support Kenny to help Kota. The match between Okada and Kenny had not gone in his former friends way.

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒓.ᐣ

No, former wasn't exactly the right word. Kenny and Adam had reconciled since the moment that it was Kenny's defeated frame that Adam was standing over, holding the big gold belt that now rested on his shoulder. Kenny was the only member of the Elite, former Elite, that hadn't attempted to stop him on his way to this moment. If anything, Kenny understood the monsters that their former friends were now. Even worse, Kenny was the main recipient of their new brand of cruelty. "Stubborn ass," Adam huffed as he helped Kenny sit down. He glanced over at Kota, "He been to medical yet?"

"Yes," Kota gave a huff, crossing his arms over his chest, "Long enough to tell them he's fine and leave!"

Adam narrowed his eyes, "𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒚."

"𝑨𝒅𝒂𝒎," Kenny tried to sound as cross with Adam as he was being treated, "I told Kota I wasn't going to miss you freeing us from The Death Riders."

"Tell ya what," Adam sat across from Kenny, their knees touching, "if you don't get checked out, I'm not gonna get checked out either."

"You're actively bleeding!" Kenny incredulously exclaimed, before holding his arm against his stomach, head bowed when he saw the looks on both Kota and Adam's faces, "Fine, fine. Point taken."

Kota watched the two before a gentle, but knowing smile crossed his lips. He knew the feelings between the two, even if both men refused to tell each other. He gently squeezed Kenny's shoulder, "I'm going to tell them then. I will be back."

Adam watched Kota scurry down the hallway, his chest tight. It had to come from the ferocity of the match, from the tears he had already shed. Yet as he sat with Kenny, the One-Winged angel whose grace and favor he had always sought out, something in his chest finally opened up. Blood mixed with tears fresher than the ones he had spilt in the ring, and he wondered what everyone in the back would think now. Kenny reached one of his hands out, squeezing Adam's hand, "You deserve this. You always deserved this."

"Wouldn't have been what ya said in the past," Adam chuckled, sniffling gently, "Like this side of ya better."

"I was wrong about you…well…back then I was wrong about you," Kenny laughed and gave Adam's hand another squeeze, "But now? Now I know. You are the heart and soul of this place, Adam. You-"

"Don't talk like this," Adam cut Kenny off, his nose wrinkled in disgust. It sounded like the words of a dying man, reaching out to someone on his death bed for forgiveness. "I don't wanna hear you talk about this, like you're…no. No. You gotta keep fighting. Just like I did."

"Fighting alo-"

"Fuck off," Adam gave a little shake of his head, "you've never been alone. So neither one of us have Matt and Nick! We never needed them! Besides, you got Kota and-"

"And you?" Kenny's voice sounded hopeful, his eyes looking like they needed confirmation.

Adam gave a soft smile, bringing Kenny's hand up to his lips, "Yeah, Ken. You got me."

[diskaywrites]

Oh My God, She's Insane

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐁𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖𝟎𝟎

Progress Wrestling Chapter 73: Fourth Shade of Green seemed like ages ago to Flash Morgan Webster. The scene had changed exponentially since 2018 in a lot of ways. So many of the men he had once considered friends had turned out to be nothing but monsters. Morgan had changed since that moment too, becoming less and less like the man he had allowed the husband and wife duo turn him into. Morgan had found himself falling back into kindness and trust the more time he spent in the company of Mark Andrews, his Mark, and Dani Luna.

Seven years. Seven years and seeing the match up of "Wild Boar" Mike Hitchman, the man who had joined Morgan Webster in destroying the same man he now went against in Burning Heart World Champion Mark Haskins, brough something back to Morgan. Was it a twinge of guilt for the woman who managed Mark, the woman who Morgan had once also loved, Vicky Haskins once again? Was it a need for true forgiveness from a woman Morgan knew he had wronged now that time had healed that wound?

The blood red roses Morgan clenched to his chest as his knuckles wrapped against the heavy wooden door bearing the Haskins name proved that it was a moment he still thought about often. The door opened and there she stood, still beautiful enough to make Morgan lose his breath and his words when he saw her. Time had been so very kind to her, even if Morgan barely recognized her at first. Gone were the crimson tresses of hair that Morgan would bury his face in during their more private moments, replaced with a blonde color he had always thought to be too common for her. Age had still not decided to catch up with her face and body, giving a beauty that seemed timeless.

And those hazel eyes that seemed to bore a hole into the center of his heart, one that Vicky had crawled inside a long time ago and not once climbed out of. He was so lost in those eyes, he never noticed the brief smirk that crossed her lips before she spoke, "It's you."

"Vicks…" Morgan gave a soft smile, extending the hand that held the flowers almost mechanically, "I wanted to…well…I thought that I…"

She took the flowers, closing her eyes as she pressed her nose in to their soft petals. Morgan couldn't help but think of how angelic she appeared, the color popping against the paleness of her skin. She pulled them back, "All this time and my bumblebee still gives me flowers."

Bumblebee. It was a nickname that Vicky had given him years back, due to his gentle and nervous nature that he tried to hide beneath an exterior that packed a sting. "I was…I wanted to apologize for…well…it's been seven years now and…"

Vicky stepped to the side, allowing Morgan to move into the room. For a brief second, he thought he heard the click of the lock on the door as she shut it behind them, but he dismissed it as the sound of Vicky's long black nails on the wood. "Seven years is a long time, isn't it, Morgan?"

"Changed us, didn't it?" Morgan chuckled as he glanced around the room. It was better than some of the venues he had been in, better than the rooms that he and Mark and Vicky would share before that fateful betrayal. He turned to smile at her, "Well, all it did was change your hair."

Vicky let out a soundless chuckle as she stepped forward, placing her hand on his bearded cheek, "You grew into yourself. Andrews and Luna seemed to have changed you."

Morgan leaned into her hand, the feeling of her nails scratching his beard gently a pleasant one. It was soothing, calming, as if her feelings had never changed, "They're good to me. I can't complain about that."

"I can't help but notice," she mused, "that you're still friends with the Boar."

The entire room seemed to chill with the statement, Morgan noticed that her nails had stopped their gentle scratches, just waiting there. "Well…yes…Boar and I are still friends."

"Do you remember that day, Morgan? Do you remember when you turned your back on Mark and I for Boar's company?" Vicky's voice was calm, but those hazel eyes seemed to flash with an underlying malice, "Because I do. I remember what I told you very clearly. 𝐃𝐨. 𝐘𝐨𝐮?"

Morgan wanted to pull away, licking his lips as he tried to remember what Vicky had said, "I…Vicks I…"

Her nails dug into Morgan's cheek, drawing thin lines of blood, "I warned you not to make an enemy of me, bumblebee. It's only taken me seven years to finally get my hands on you."

[diskaywrites]

And I'm About To Break

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐞 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐞 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐇𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐂𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐎'𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐫 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖𝟑𝟎

Alarick Bane had always had a soft spot for mortals. Sometimes he believed it came down to the fact that he was more his mother's son than he was his fathers. His older brother Malcolm had always taken after their father, strong and willing to jump into a fight like it came as naturally as the air he breathed. Alarick wasn't a coward by any means, he fought to protect the pack just as often as his brother, but he took after his mother's peacekeeping ways more often than not. instead of training to fight, he would rather listen to the stories his mother told as he helped her with creating her poultices and potions.

In his youth, that fascination with humans had led him to falling in love with one of the women in his mother's coven, Maeve O'Connor. It was a relationship that Alarick knew could only end one way. That was one of the regrettable side-effects of being human, he supposed. Garou aged slowly once they hit their maturity and by falling in love with a human, he had doomed himself to witness their final fate. The other regrettable thing about mortals were that they were not supposed to be privy to the way of his people. The change, the rituals, were only to be known to those of the blood. Between falling in love and letting Maeve witness the change, Larick had broken the tenants once.

And now, many years later, he had done it again with Reece Lawrence.

Reece lived as quiet of a life as someone in the modern age could, raising two girls in seclusion in the Welsh countryside. Alarick had always found it charming that his current partner also loved the gentle nature of the country. The garden they maintained, the bees that Reece kept, the two children that Alarick took care of as if they were his own. The two kept nothing separate from one another, no secrets, and after one fateful night, that included the truth of Alarick's nature. Reece had watched Alarick transform and, in turn, Alarick had begun to teach Reece about his people.

That had not sat well with Malcolm once he had found out.

"Yer lying tae me, Alarick," Malcolm paced in the small kitchen of the farmhouse that his brother and Reece shared, letting out a sharp hiss. The man's massive frame dwarfed that of Reece, who none-the-less sat unafraid in his chair, despite the anger that radiated from Malcolm. "He does nae know. You've barely fookin' known him…"

"He didn't mean for me to see," Reece began, his voice calm as he watched Malcolm.

The large beast of a man rounded on the mild-mannered Welshman, "I was nae talking tae you, sheep! I was-"

In the blink of an eye, Alarick pushed his way from his chair to stand between his elder brother and the man he loved. One meaty hand wrapped around Malcom's wrist, stopping his brother from jabbing an accusatory finger in Reece's direction. His upper lip peeled from his teeth in a snarl, eyes flashing emerald green, "If ya value yer life, Malcolm, ya won't yell at Reece."

Malcom wrenched his arm away, though he made no other effort to move. His burly chest heaved with his rage, "Ya told him our secrets, Alarick."

"He saw me change withou' alerting me was there," Alarick's low rumble was like steel wrapped in lace, a hidden danger behind a calmness he tried to put on for his beloved, "He means the world tae me. Just like-"

"Maeve, Maeve, Maeve," Malcolm snarled, rolling his eyes, "you invoke her name so much bu' she-"

"Watch yer tongue," Alarick hissed, hands slowly clenching into fists, "if ya value yer life, ya will watch yer tongue."

"She never should have known our secrets either," Malcolm finished his statement, an almost triumphant look in his eyes," She never should have been around us at all."

With a snarl, Alarick's hand curled into Malcolm's shirt and he shoved Malcolm into the wall with a sickening thud. The wall rattled, one of the intricate wooden carvings of the moon clattering to the ground. "𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑," Alarick thought to himself, "𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝐿𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝐿𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼'𝑚 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑛."

It was a softer hand on Alarick's shoulders that stopped him from attacking his brother even worse. Alarick didn't have to look over his shoulder to know that Reece stood behind him, trying to stop Alarick from doing something he might regret. A slow growl left Alarick's lips as he let go of Malcolm's shirt, taking a step back into the waiting arms of his partner. "This ain't over, Al," Malcolm brushed off the front of his shirt, "you can't just-"

"If you value your life," Reece spoke, his voice still as calm as he had been while Alarick had attacked, "you should go. I held him off once. I will never do so again."

[diskaywrites]

So Much Better When You're Mad At Me

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐯 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐒𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐢 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐒𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕𝟕𝟎

Combat was the true test of a person's mettle. It was a lesson that had been important in Ilyiana Dragunov since the early days of her training. Emotions were to be kept under wraps, suppressed in order to make a person stronger. These emotions could be shared after, but in the moment? In the moment, all love did was to weaken ones strikes and all anger did was distract one from their true purpose. Timothy Thatcher had made sure that Ilyiana Dragunov had learned to bury all emotion before releasing her on an unsuspecting world with pride.

That's what confounded Ilyiana when faced with the woman who she watched in the locker room with a more than curious fascination.

The whole world was aware of just how good Kitari Suzuki was. Ilyiana had expected to see someone closer in both style and personality to her father, the legendary Minoru Suzuki, and while her in-ring work did reflect her family name, her personality did not. She was bright, almost bubbly, instead of the stoic woman that Ilyiana had expected. "𝑁𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟," Ilyiana thought to herself as she watched the woman interact with others in the locker room, "𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝑛 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒."

That was until Kitari had caught sight of the Russian-born but German-raised dynamo. A wide grin crossed the black painted lips of her opponent as she practically skipped over to where Ilyiana sat. Ilyiana allowed her eyes to rake over the woman's form, feeling only a little underdressed. The black bralette Kitari wore left nothing to the imagination and Ilyiana had to glance away, feeling no better than the men who would be jeering and catcalling the duo later. Not men, Ilyiana snorted to herself, dogs. Ilyiana's tongue swiped over her lower lip and Kitari looked proud, planting her hands on her hips, a swell covered by black belts into a pair of skinny jeans that dipped low, "So you do have emotions!"

Ilyiana's cold blue eyes shot up to meet those of her opponent, surprised as she met their mischievous brown gaze, "Izvinite? What do you mean by this?"

"The whole locker room said you were a blank slate," Kitari shrugged her shoulders, a smile tugging at the corner of her lip, "but you seem to be staring."

Ilyiana let out a slow breath through her nose, casting her eyes down to her lap. Of course the other girls spoke of her in hushed tones, as something to be feared. She was known as the Baba Yaga for a reason, a cautionary tale whispered to those who would stand across from her in the ring. "I was not staring, Suzuki. I was seizing you up. I must know about my opponents."

"I mUsT kNoW aBoUt My OpPoNeNt," Kitari's voice echoed back in a mocking tone, bringing a hand up to mimic a mouth. She didn't seem to take this seriously. Even worse to Ilyiana, as she wound tape around her hand, Kitari didn't seem to take her seriously, "Do you always lie to yourself?"

Ilyiana sat the roll of white tape next to her on the bench, planting her hands on her thighs. Her eyes glanced at Kitari, jaw clenching and unclenching as she watched the other woman. Was this woman, as beautiful as she was, trying to rile her up? "You are pushing me, Suzuki. I would not recommend doing so."

"I'm not pushing you," Kitari shook her head, the frizzy pigtails at either side of her head moving, "would you like to see pushing you?"

Ilyiana stood, shorter than the other woman but not intimidated, "Suzuki. I said-"

Kitari put one hand on Ilyiana's shoulder, giving it a gentle shove. Ilyiana glanced down at where the woman's hand rested on her shoulder, before glancing back up at Kitari. "That would be pushing you."

"I warn you, do not do it again," Ilyiana hissed, hand balling into a fist.

"Do what again?" Kitari was still playful in tone and something inside of Ilyiana was both angry and impressed. There was something brave to this woman, beautiful as she was, that proved she was not afraid. "This?"

As Kitari pushed her again, Ilyiana reached up and took a grip of Kitari's arm, pulling her in closer. The smell of jasmine and rose invaded her senses and Ilyiana inhaled deeply. How perfect she was! Her nostrils flared and she growled, "You anger me."

"Good!" Kitari beamed triumphantly as she pulled away from Ilyiana, "I don't want you to go out there with nothing to your attacks. Bring me your anger, Yaga. It brings a better match."

[diskaywrites]

I Beheaded All The Men Who Said They Loved Me

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐎𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚, 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐚𝐱 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏,𝟎𝟒𝟐

Matt Jackson wasn't even aware that Daily's Place had a bar until he had been told that's where his Adam had been spending most of his time. Sure, things hadn't been perfect in the Elite since November. Adam and Kenny seemed to be at each other's throats more often than not, even as they held the tag team championships. At the end of a show, Adam would come back to his and Matt's hotel room with the sickly-sweet scent of beer clinging to him, which always made Matt a little sick to his stomach as his cowboy pressed against him at night. But at the end of the day, Adam was still his and he could forgive a few mistakes.

What he couldn't forgive was Adam costing him and Nick an opportunity to face off against Adam and Kenny for the AEW Tag Team Championships again. Those belts meant the world to him, to Nick, and to watch that opportunity slip through his fingers broke something inside of Matt Jackson. Adam needed to know the mistake he had made, and so with his little brother by his side, Matt had gone off in search of Adam.

"Of course you're at the bar!" Nick shouted as soon as they had tossed the heavy door to the private room open. Matt wished he hadn't divulged to Nick the way Adam returned to the hotel most nights, but he hadn't known where else to turn to in search for help. That's what Adam needed, after wall, was help with his problem.

Adam, who looked every bit of a perfect disaster in the low bar light. His golden hair held curls that Matt wanted nothing more than to run a hand through and whisper about how they'd be okay, how this nightmare would end, how he forgave Adam for the loss. Matt felt the anger flow inside of him, meaning that the closure he wanted was nowhere near happening.

"You waiting for someone?" Nick gestured to the other two glasses of pale amber liquid that sat on the bar counter.

Matt knew the accusation Nick was making and tried to swallow down his anger. Cash and Dax, FTR, had been friends with Adam for a while. Matt had felt off since the three grew closer, and the loss to Dax and Cash because of Adam only made it feel worse. Was Adam always drinking late with the two Southern boys he had more in common with? Had he done more with those boys? "Yeah, Hangman, you waiting for someone?"

"You cost us a title match! Why?!" Nick shouted in Adam's face, "Are you afraid to face us again, is that why?"

Matt put a hand on Nick's shoulder, trying to calm his little brother down. He wanted to try and de-escalate the situation, but his anger, his hurt, his pride, wouldn't let him. "He's insecure. Who are you? Who the hell are you? This is your own insecurities that have pushed you to this! God, this entire time, Hangman! We wanted a friend, but you never thought you were good enough! You were good enough the entire time, Hangman! All we wanted was a friend!"

Matt could feel the pain rising and falling in his chest, building to something as he ran a hand through his long, black hair. Adam knew what he wanted. Hadn't they talked about it for a long time? A nice little place of their own, a fenced in yard where Adam could have his garden and Matt could have his pool? Matt wanted that wedded bliss, to hold and to cherish Adam for life. Yet here his cowboy…no…the cowboy was refusing to speak up.

"One time I called you a jobber, a long time ago, but tonight," Nick jabbed a finger into Adam's chest, "you decided to be a jobber."

Matt's eyes landed on the glass of alcohol that Adam held like a shield. He hated the stuff, God how he hated the drink that was pulling his Adam further and further away. "You know what it's about? It's about time someone actually told you the truth. You're nothing but a drunk."

Matt's actions overrode his emotions, anger overriding the love he felt in his heart. Later, the act would hit him in the chest like a bullet fired at high noon. His hand acted on his own accord as he took the drink from Adam's hand, and splashed it directly into Adam's face.

"Since November, you've been asking for it," matt shouted, rage in his eyes as Adam closed his own, sputtering in surprise at the act, "and I've…we've…been clinging onto something that doesn't even exist anymore! You didn't want to be our friend! You didn't want to be in The Elite! We were too stupid, we were too naive.! We were just clinging onto something that didn't exist! Hangman, this is what you wanted, right?! Well fine. We're done! You're out of the Elite!"

Matt couldn't help himself as he fled the room. Adam was going to fix this. Adam was going to follow him into the hallway, those cowboy boots creating an echo in the hallway. He'd grab Matt by the shoulder, spin him around and take him in those strong arms of his. Adam would kiss him, apologize for the way he'd been acting and put all of Matt's fears to rest. Matt would apologize for the drink to the face, would apologize for calling his Adam a drunk.

The further the duo got into the hallway, the more Matt realized that wasn't going to happen. Adam wasn't coming after him. Adam was probably downing another drink. Matt let out a sob, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes to try and stop the tears that had finally started falling. He felt two arms wrap around him and, just for a moment, Matt hoped it was Adam.

"I know, Matty, I know," Nick soothed, before pulling away from the hug, his hands holding onto Matt's shoulders, "but he's gotta change on his own time. He's gotta wanna change. Maybe this will help."

"It has to," Matt murmured, casting a sad glance over his shoulder in the direction of the bar, "I want my partner back."

[diskaywrites]

The Proof Is In The Kodak

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐲 𝟑𝐎𝐇𝟑 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐲 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝟏𝟕

He didn't want to believe what he was seeing as he opened his email to make sure that he was up to date with everything in his life, but the proof was right in front of Dalton Castle. The email had been sent by an email account he didn't recognize, something about the Yellow Brick Road, and the subject line had simply been a kissy face emoji and a pride flag. He had almost ignored it completely, dismissing it as something from a fan who had somehow gotten his email. Now that he saw the contents of the email, simply a photograph, he was glad to have opened the email.

The picture was proof of his husbands betrayal.

"Babe? You gonna come on out to the pool?" came a voice from the top of the stairs leading from the upper floor of the home they had filled with so much love to the living room where Dalton was suffering through his greatest betrayal. He glanced from the screen in front of him to the stairway. Dakota Heraldry looked as good as ever, bare-chested and his black swim trunks leaving nothing to the imagination. A hand coursed through his mint-green dyed hair, glancing at Dalton over the top of his black heart-shaped sunglasses. Oh, Dalton wanted to pull him in for a kiss and never let him go.

𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑎𝑙…

"When were you going to tell me?" Dakota questioned, biting down on his lower lip. "Were you even going to tell me about all this?"

"Tell you what, baby boy?" Dakota leaned against the back of the couch, realizing what Dalton had been looking at. He swore under his breath, glancing away, "I can explain…"

"Explain? Explain how you broke my trust?" Dalton shook his head, brown hair moving on his shoulders. He couldn't believe how casually Dakota was taking this situation. The smiling faces in the photograph mocked him, the bearded face of his worst enemy especially, "This is…"

"Exactly what it looks like," Dakota admitted, not even wanting to deny what his husband was looking at, "but you're being dramatic."

"𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜ⵑ?" Dalton gasped, clapping a hand over his heart and looking hurt, "I get a photo of you and 𝐡𝐢𝐦, and you call me 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜?ⵑ"

Dakota rolled his eyes, "Well, if you liked to do things like that more often, I wouldn't have to do it with 𝐡𝐢𝐦."

Dakota sat dumbfounded for a moment, blinking numbly at the photo, "I told you, it makes me gag! I can't handle it!"

"Look at that picture and tell me what's wrong with it," Dakota sat next to Dalton, placing his hand on top of one of Dalton's.

Dalton wrenched his eyes closed, "I can't…I…"

"Look at it Dalton."

He opened his eyes to glance at the picture. On one side was his Dakota, a blue baseball jersey with the Superman logo over a black tank top paired perfectly with a pair of daisy duke denim shorts. His arm was wrapped around 𝐡𝐢𝐬 shoulders. Effy. The man's baseball cap was on backwards, dressed in a bright pink tank top and black gym shorts. Effy's own arm was wrapped around the shoulder of Dakota, Dalton's own Dakota. Dakota's free hand held onto an almost offensively green drink, topped with a pickle. Behind the duo shone the bright lights of a carnival midway. Dakota and Effy had gone to the county fair.

Without him.

"This isn't faaaair," Dalton whined, pouting his lip at Dakota, "you went with EFFY! And not me!"

"I got Frollie pops in the cooler," Dakota tried to charm as he pressed a kiss to the top of his partner's head, "will that make up for it?"

[diskaywrites]

Running Through The Night

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐲 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚, 𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐟 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐑𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓𝟗𝟓

Selene Bishop's hand gripped the steering wheel of the black pickup truck, her eyes set on the horizon of the otherwise quiet desert road she found herself traversing. The full moon hung between the mountains that jutted out from the flat landscape, bathing the long stretch of black tar in a pale light. There was no music to be heard, just the sounds of the Texas night, crickets screaming and the low cry of a coyote that hunted somewhere in the night. She could have allowed herself to believe that she was alone, if not for the gnawing feeling of dread that seemed to claw a hole in the back of her skull.

Texas was supposed to be better than this.

The man who sat next to her in silence, her Devin, had come face-to-face with the man who a little under a year ago he had attempted to strike down, Atticus Malone. It should have been an easy enough feat. Devin had already proven that he was stronger than Atticus, more cunning than Atticus. That had been proven when Devin had first wrapped the man's head in a plastic bag, and if not then, it had been proven when Devin had convinced Wheeler Yuta to do the same. Atticus was a thorn to be removed, nothing more and nothing less.

But when the fourth man in their team, Josef Belmont, had hit Devin across the face with a set of brass knuckles dusted with garlic and holy water, everything had changed. In the moment Selene had simply been surprised, rooted to the spot in her confusion. Atticus had capitalized on the moment, pinning Devin to secure the win. Even now as the two sat in the truck, there was an aura of shock to the silence. Selene caught Devin's reflection in the darkness of the truck before casting her eyes back on the road. Across Devin's face were the markings the knuckles had left behind, a temporary burn that would rest across his face as a reminder of the nights event until he was able to feed and heal. It was a reminder of a bond of brotherhood that had been broken by Josef Belmont.

"So," Selene broke the silence of the truck, "what now?"

Devin ran his tongue over his protruding canine teeth. Selene knew that if the man were mortal, there would have been a shark intake of breath accompanying the act, "Whatever it is, we do it together."

The statement was softer than she had imagined it would be, devoid of the anger she had thought the betrayal would bring. The anger she had thought was there instead was replaced with a vulnerability. Her hands lightened their white-knuckled grip on the wheel, her shoulders rolling back and her jaw unclenching. Devin's own vulnerability was a sign that she could also be vulnerable. "Is…is there a together?"

Devin reached out a hand, placing it on her upper thigh, "Absolutely, of course there is. You really think I'd abandon you?"

Selene's mind raced to the thought of her ex-husband, of Roderick Strong and the way he had tossed her aside during one of the hardest moments of her life. Tears dotted the corners of her eyes, but she didn't move to dry them, "I don't deserve you. I failed you. I-"

"And I don't deserve you," Devin cut her off with a gentle squeeze, "but we're forever, even through a massive low like this."

"Soul mates," a kind smile crossed her lips.

"Soul mates," Devin agreed as the truck grew quiet yet again.

[diskaywrites]

I Suffer More Now Than Before

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚, 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟖𝟏𝟐 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐃𝐢𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫, 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨, 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧, 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐚, 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓𝟖𝟗

Dia Banks gave a long groan as she fell backwards onto the hotel room bed with a small plop. Pain radiated throughout her neck and shoulders, courtesy of a piledriver from Shane Taylor earlier in the night. That match had been one of three in a two-day span and, even though she was used to working the death match circuit, something about more than one match in a day had her feeling even more sore than taking a light to the back.

"You good, Di?" her partner, both in life and in the ring, Sebastian Ryland asked as he sat his half of the Ring of Honor tag team championships on the dresser by the television. He put his hand on her lower back with his own wince, cursing the back injury that had once taken this career away from him. He crossed to the easy chair by the window, resting in it and kicking his feet up on the small ottoman nearby. Dia could only imagine how he felt, putting a sheepish look on her face.

"I should be asking you that," Dia rolled onto her side to glance at her husband, a pop sounding as she did so. She could feel the joints in her left shoulder and closed her eyes for a brief moment, "How's your back?"

"Same as your shoulder," Sebastian laughed as he leaned his head back, long blonde hair cascading over his thick shoulders, "Why'd we agree to all this?"

"Well, Supercard we had to," Dia recalled the show on Friday night with fondness. Friday hadn't been a terrible match. The Infantry, comprised of Carlie Bravo and Shawn Dean, had proved themselves to the Ring of Honor faithful. Dia had been more than impressed with everyone involved, especially Trish Adora. Dia wished she could have gotten into the ring with her one day, and while there was still a chance, Supercard of Honor had needed a defense from the tag team champions. Just like when she and Sebastian had won the titles, one knockout punch to the temple from Bash to Carlie had secured their win.

After the match, when Shane Taylor Promotions had jumped the duo, Tony Khan decided that Dia and Bash would team with the two men who had saved them in former opponents Sammy Guevara and Dustin Rhodes to combat the stable.

"And agreeing to take place in that four man for the title?" Bash raised an eyebrow, hoping Dia had a justifiable answer to that question.

Dia didn't like the situation that had led to the four-way for the TNT Championship, but she hadn't said no to being put in the match. Not winning the title wasn't an issue, the issue came from the pain three matches had accumulated in her body. "I fear we might be stupid, Bash."

He let a sharp bark of a laugh leave his lips, stretching his arms over his chest, bringing his hands together to crack his knuckles, "Imagine how bad this is gonna hurt tomorrow."

Dia let her own bitter laugh leave her lips at the mere thought of what Sunday morning would bring. "Can we focus on today's pain? It's always worse the day after."

There was a silence between the two, an agreement not to talk about the pain, "Do you regret it? Working the matches we did?"

That answer was easy.

"Nah," Dia rolled with her back on the firm mattress again, another audible pop emanating from her shoulder, "always thankful to do this just one day more."

[diskaywrites]

Hear The Sound and The Fury

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐥 𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐂 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐚 𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐜𝐤 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐬 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝟑𝟎

The tip of his cigarette burned bright as Waylon Hickock leaned against the brick facade of the building behind him, exhaling a puff of smoke on an angry breath. It wasn't fair. His daddy had always told him that the phrase it ain't fair was a stupid one. Life wasn't fair, not a single aspect of it. So why would a match be fair, even if it was against two people that Waylon considered to be much more than his friends.

Well, had considered much more than his friends.

"They fuckin' rolled you up," hissed Waylon's actual friend, his tag team partner Beau Sawyer, as he lit up his own cigarette. The two had come up together from the early days of their training to now, and while most people including himself called Beau a psychopath, there was no one under the sun that Waylon trusted more, "Barnes rolled you up and-"

"I 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 to kick out, Beau," Waylon tried not to clench his teeth as he stared out at the parking lot, the taillights of those leaving the arena for the night blinking back at them. He truly had tried to get out of the rollup, but the referee being distracted moments before by Heath Hayes so that Scott Barnes could hit the low blow meant that it was almost impossible. That's why the loss had hurt so badly. Scott and Heath were two men that Waylon trusted, a part of him could even say that he loved both men. To be cheated out of his and Beau's televised debut by two men who claimed to care about him burned in the pit of Waylon's chest like a branding iron.

Beau ran his free hand over his face, "I know, Waylon. Fuck, I know. Don't this piss you off?"

Waylon took a drag off of his cigarette before putting it out against the brick wall behind him. He pushed off of the wall behind him with his cowboy boot, "More'n ya know."

"So how are we gonna fix this?" Beau dashed his own cigarette out, pulling the pack from his jean pocket and putting the half smoked cigarette back into its pack for later. He followed after Waylon as the two men crossed the dark parking lot, pulling their bags after them. It was a good question, one that Waylon wasn't exactly sure how to answer. In his mind, he wasn't exactly sure 𝒉𝒐𝒘 to get back at Heath and Scott. The two certainly deserved a taste of their own medicine for the pain they had put him and Beau through. The duo who had cheated him certainly weren't going to be talking to him any time soon. But this was a one-off showing in AEW, Waylon wasn't sure when he and Beau would be back.

"I dunno," Waylon admitted with a defeated sigh, "I-"

"You don't know?" Beau tossed his bag in the back of the pickup truck before turning to face Waylon, "The hell do ya mean ya don't know, Waylon?"

"Goddammit Beau!" Waylon snapped at his best friend, shoving him back gently, "I said I dunno! Do I gotta fuckin' spell it out for ya?"

Beau's jaw tensed and he stepped closer to his friend in the cowboy hat, the two men standing face-to-face as a breeze blew through the warm June night air. As close as the two were, they weren't strangers to trading punches when tensions were high. "You feel that, Waylon? You feel that fuckin' anger?"

"Yer doin' a great job at pissin' me off!" Waylon agreed with a snarl.

A smile crossed Beau's face and he put the palms of his hands flat against Waylon's chest before giving a little shove of his own, "Then use it and let's get fuckin' even!"

[diskaywrites]

To Seek Revenge May Lead To Hell

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 (𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞) 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐋𝐲𝐫��� 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭:

"You know what revenge can do to a man," Sami Callihan growled out as he leaned against the dresser in the bedroom, watching as his partner packed a book bag in a hurry, "You've done this before. Why do this again?"

Eddie Edwards hands shook as he pulled the zipper to the black backpack closed, knelt at the side of the bed, "You know why I have to. You know what they took from me."

"The last time you tried to fight her, she almost killed you and Alarick," Sami watched how reverent Eddie seemed to be. He knew all too well that Eddie had every right to seek the revenge that tempted him so. Losing someone was never easy and, unlike most, Eddie had tangible names and faces to press his misery into. For Eddie, those people just so happened to be that daughter he had once adopted with the love he had lost and her partner, the man who had started it all. Eddie had been peaceful for a while, letting the knowledge that Lyra Dawn and Cassidy Cabana were simply existing lay like water under the bridge. Something that had happened had set in him, those waters rising until it promised to flood and drown everything else in his life. "Why now, Ed?"

Eddie's chocolate brown eyes glanced over at Sami, but just as quickly, he looked away. There was something on the tip of his tongue, but instead he simply swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, "It's nothing. I just have to-"

"It isn't nothing if it has you willing to pack a bag, to go after that violence," Sami knelt next to him on the floor, hands pressed into his black jeans. The light of the nearby window cast a glow over Eddie's cherubic face, catching the scar that sat along his eye in just the right light. Sami couldn't help but be reminded of the last time Eddie pursued revenge so doggedly, when Eddie had pursued him for the injury that caused the scar that had almost taken Eddie's eye. He glanced away, instead focusing on the threads of the white bedsheet, "Usually I'd say fuck it and pack you a few weapons to use. This is something else."

"It's not fair…" Eddie closed his eyes, still fidgeting with the zipper on the bag.

"I know, Ed, but-"

"It's not fair that I'll never get to see the love of my life ever again," Eddie's voice sounded defeated as he glanced over at Sami, tears brimming in those surprisingly gentle eyes, "It's not fair that they can come apart and fall back into each other again and again, but I'll never get that. I'll never feel his face against the crook of my neck when we're in bed together. We'll never hold hands or train in the gym or…or see the goddamn sunrise…"

So that's what this was about. Lyra and Cassidy had a habit of falling in and out of their relationship, but this had been the first time that the two had been back together since the incident. There was a part of Sami that understood the need for revenge, ye there was something darker that covered his mind in darkness.

"I'm never gonna be that for you, am I?" Sami's hoarse voice seemed to echo throughout the quiet of the room.

Eddie winced, eyes casting themselves away from Sami, "Sam, you know I-"

"No, no I get it," he let the bitter laugh leave his lips, "you focus on that revenge, on that loss, but-"

"Don't do this to-"

"But you can't face the good you have," Sami took Eddie's lower jaw in his cupped hand, fingers squeezing ever so slightly as he forced Eddie to look at him, "You love me, Ed? Cause I know you do. 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘. Problem is, you can't reconcile with yourself. You can't let yourself be happy for five fuckin' seconds."

Eddie's hands gripped Sami's arms, not his grip just as tight as Sami's, "And if I am?! If I am afraid to let myself be happy because every fucking time I am, something goes wrong and I lose everything!?"

"You ain't gonna fuckin' lose me," Sami pulled his face in, pressing a kiss to Eddie's lips, "Forget that revenge for a bit. Just stay with me."

[diskaywrites]

Count It As A Blessing

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐔𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐜𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐀 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭/𝐄𝐥𝐢 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝟓𝟒

The message that had left his lips in front of the Smackdown faithful had left LA Knight with his chest feeling tight and his mouth feeling dry. It was a message that everyone needed to hear, especially the men in the audience. Crying was okay. It didn't change how manly a person was, nor did it affect how they should be seen by the people in their lives that loved them. It was a message that had taken him so long to realize himself.

And it was all because of the woman who had sat her camera aside to wrap her arms around him as soon as he arrived backstage that LA 𝒉𝒂𝒅 realized the truth of that message.

When the two had met, LA Knight hadn't been the most stable of men. The world has known him as Eli Drake, the man who had betrayed Drew Galloway in The Rising. Running his mouth to anyone who would listen had been his favorite past time, so fate had tried to even him out by setting in front of him a woman like Jenna Darling. Jenna was everything Eli looked for in a woman. She was beautiful, smart, and oh so successful as the head of the TNA photography team. She was also deaf, the one woman in the company who couldn't hear Eli when he ranted about just how good he was at all aspects of life.

Eli had fallen in love with her because of her inability to hear his own cockiness, not in spite of. Not only did she make him feel like no one else in his life ever had, Eli found himself pushing himself hard to learn sign language just so that he could talk with him. It was hard work, yes, but that hard work had impressed Jenna. It seemed like eons ago that the two had stood before their family and friends, that Eli had used the ASL he practiced and practiced to tell Jenna just how much he would always love and care about her. It had been the happiest day of his life, one that even in the darkest moments he clung to like a man lost at sea would cling to the wreckage of a ship.

The dark days came fast and frequent after LA had lost his job with Impact Wrestling. It had led to fights, to nights where Eli slept on the couch and Jenna slept in their bed. As it got worse and worse, Eli's darkness manifesting in problems with both alcohol and a little white powder, Jenna had given him an ultimatum. Either her go to therapy, get help for the darkness that had him consuming a bottle of wine a night while he searched for a place in the profession that he loved, or lose her. As hard as losing the job with Impact, a company he truly did care about, had been; losing Jenna would have been a fate worse than anything he could imagine.

Therapy had been the easy stop.

Jenna ran a hand through LA's short brown hair with one hand as the other spelled out one simple word, "P-R-O-U-D."

Eli pulled away from her, so that he had access to his own hands, trying to ask a question, "Where's-"

A small tug at the sleeve of LA's bright yellow shirt answered the question before he even saw the figure behind him. He turned, looking down slightly to see the second half of his damaged heart: his son. The bright eyed boy beamed up at his father, and LA couldn't help the feeling of pride deep in his chest. The thirteen-year-old, adopted after Jenna and Eli had struggled to conceive, had given LA an entirely new lease on life. "Hey bud," LA signed with a smile, "how ya doin'?"

Bobby grinned at his dad, signing back, "Learning how to be a good man from a good dad."

[diskaywrites]

Think of It As My Despair For You

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐍𝐨𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐛𝐛 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐀𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐋𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐭 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞, 𝐖𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐲 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐑𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕𝟎𝟎

It was never going to be a routine tag team match, Noelle Webb had known that the moment that Patrick Foyet had set his eyes on her GCW Championship. The man had already targeted one of her partners, Louis Banks, and his family since the madman's resurgence into professional wrestling. Putting Louis into a position where he would have to stand across from Patrick and his trained monster in Slade was not something Noelle wanted to have to do. Louis would never admit it, but he was afraid. Noelle could see that as plain as the smile he always wore across his face.

She was thankful, then, to have another partner in Akira Tanigawa.

It hadn't made the match any easier, however. Patrick and Slade had no remorse in their bodies. Broken tables, smashed light tubes, while all of it was expected did not hurt any less. By mid-match, the blood that covered the match was a mixture of her own and Akira's just as much as it was Patrick's and Slade's. Seeing that the man who wanted to take everything from her was capable of bleeding was assuring. It meant Patrick could be stopped. It meant that Patrick could be beaten.

The man who had caused Noelle so much pain knelt on the mat, hands raised as if to plead with her as somewhere in the crowd Akira and Slade brawled, "You know…you know I never meant anything by this…"

"Bullshit," Noelle seethed, raising the barbwire baseball bat in her hand to lift his chin, "You wanted me at my best! Now you have it!"

She raised the bat high with the intent to crack it over Patrick's hand, an act of mercy before she picked up the win. The fans booing didn't register with Noelle until something cracking over the blonde's back made her drop to her knees. Noelle expected to see Slade as she looked up. Instead, she was greeted by two men in black hoodies with their faces covered with green bandanas. Noelle tried to stand, but another shot from the long, thin weapon knocked her completely to the mat. She knew who these men were the moment she processed exactly what sort of weapon was being used: a shillelagh.

Rory Cullen was the first to remove his hood, while Wyatt Foley was the first to remove the green bandana. Both men refrained from glancing over where Patrick laughed like the madman he was. Rory picked Noelle up, locking his arms under hers to restrain her. Noelle struggled, trying to free herself as Wyatt pulled the familiar wooden skewers from his pocket. Noelle's blue eyes scanned the crowd for Akira, hope leaving them as she saw the broken table that Slade put him through. She prayed silently that Louis would stay in the back, that he would have a selfish bone in his body for once.

Even as Louis ran from the back to try and help her, Noelle prayed that he would be selfish for once.

Patrick lunged at Louis, wrapping his forearm around her neck from behind, cutting off the young man's oxygen as he struggled, "Watch! Watch what happens to the little spider!"

As if on cue, Wyatt drove the skewers in his hand straight into Noelle's forehead. She let out a shriek at the blinding pain that spread throughout her head, sagging in Rory's grasp before he tossed her to the mat. Louis had passed out from the lack of oxygen, a line of drool leaking from the side of lips. The gold of the GCW Tag Team Championship he had intended to use to fight off the aggressors cluttered to the mat next to his prone body. Rory bent to pick it up, a smirk on his face as he tossed it over his shoulder. Slade had retrieved Akira's half of the tag team championships as well as Noelle's GCW Championship from ringside, handing Wyatt the tag team belt and Patrick the GCW.

Patrick knelt by Noelle, tenderly brushing her blood-soaked blonde hair from her face as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "I told you, little spider, that I would take everything from you. And I meant it."

[diskaywrites]

Wide Awake

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐈'𝐦 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐀 𝐊𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐎𝐫𝐥𝐚 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐭, 𝐑𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝟏𝟓

It wasn't the first time Orla Cullen had woken up in the dead of night to the sound of a child crying. Over her years on the Earth, sixty to be exact, she had been lucky enough to have three wonderful children of her own. Her Rory was in the States working to be a death match wrestler, while her Delaney had moved to Japan to take on the challenge that New Japan provided. That left Sadie, her only girl and the only one not in the professional wrestling career, whose child was crying down the hallway and who had invited Orla to move in with her and her long-term partner Spike Trivet.

Orla tossed back the heavy quilt she wore to guard her from the cold London nighttime air, making her way into the nursery of her grandson, Arthur. The oak crib, handmade and passed down through the Cullen family line, was pressed against one of the forest green nursery walls. Inside, Orla could see little Arthur, wailing for a reason she didn't quite know yet. He was a plump child, cherubic when not wailing his eyes out. His little fingers clenched and unclenched and as soon as Orla picked him up out of the crib, he clung to her.

"Oh, hush now, my little king," Orla tutted as she brought the baby over to the changing table by the door. She set to work on changing the diaper as he cooed. In the moment, Orla couldn't help but notice how the little one reminded Orla of his uncle, of her Rory, when he was just as little. As soon as she finished changing him, she stooped to get a premade bottle from the little refrigerator that was tucked under the table. She had never had so many things to help take care of her little brood. "Yer ma is lucky tae have all this. Changing table must feel better than a little couch, hm?"

Arthur gave another fussy whine as Orla cradled him close, sitting in the rocking chair by the window in the room. She brought the bottle to his lips, giving a satisfied nod when he latched on. Delaney had been bottle-fed, but in the beginning even getting him to eat that way was a struggle. She rocked gently in the chair, singing as softly as she could, "I see the moon, the moon sees me, shining through the trees of the old oak tree…"

"Mum?" came a soft voice from the doorway, "Wha' are ya doing awake?"

Orla cast her gaze to the doorway, where her daughter Sadie stood with a blanket around her shoulders. It reminded Orla of the days when Sadie had still been small, coming in to ask her mother if she could sleep in the bed or coming in for breakfast in the morning with her blanket around her shoulders. "Heard the wee one crying. Thought ya could use the help."

"I could have gotten him, mum," Sadie yawned, plodding tiredly into the room. She sat in front of the rocking chair her mother had taken up residence in, her back pressed to her mother's legs, "You shouldn't have t-"

"Nonsense," Orla tutted, "tha's wha' I came here for, didn't I? Tae help you and your Simon take care of my little grandmother."

"Still," Sadie stifled another yawn, closing her eyes as she rested back against her mother's legs, "You shouldn't have to-"

"Yer my gel, I came here tae take care of you just as much as I take care of him," Orla cut her off, relaxing into the chair with a smile, "Let me take care of both of my babies a little longer."

[diskaywrites]

Stars Are Falling All For Us

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐈𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫, 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕𝟒𝟓

Losing a championship while not being the one pinned almost hurt more than if he were to be the one pinned, Simon Miller thought as he sat on a lounge chair by the pool of the Vegas hotel that he was staying in. Progress Wrestling had been the first promotion to give a humble YouTuber his first shot at the in-ring career that he had always dreamed of. It made sense that the next person in line to hold the Proteus Championship would be an actual actor like Paul Walter Hauser.

It just didn't make the loss he had suffered hurt any less.

He let out a loud sigh, the twinkling stars above him seeming to move in response. It was a beautiful sight and one that was a form of beauty in the darkest of hours, all too literally. He grabbed the glass sitting on the wrought iron table next to him, bringing it to his lips to take a sip. The liquid inside was bitter, and Simon knew he was lying to himself to say that it was an adequate way to quell his sadness. "Ugh, Simon Miller, why are you like this?"

It had been a rhetorical question, not one he expected to hear a female voice from behind him respond to with the joke of, "Why? Here's why."

He turned his head to watch the woman maneuvering her rigid frame chair up the walkway that led from the outdoor pool back into the hotel lobby, thanks to the SmartDrive attached to the back of her chair. It wasn't quite an electric wheelchair that the woman who had suffered from a childhood cancer that took her left leg from above the knee used, but she managed to maneuver herself mostly on her own. Simon stood to pull the gate to the pool open, looking at the blonde with a fondness, "You know that's not your line, Cassie."

Cassie Irvine giggled, her body jostling as the chair crossed over the small bump in the pavement of the pathway. "Shouldn't have left yourself open for that."

Simon rolled his eyes playfully at the woman he had only met the year before when he had worked the Progress show in Philadelphia. Cassie had been visiting a few friends on the roster and Simon had considered himself lucky to have made her acquaintance, sharing messages and video calls ever since. She was certainly brighter and kinder than her father, working in the business not on camera but instead behind the scenes helping to translate promos and segments for various promotions, including Progress, in the various languages she was fluent in. "What are you doing up so late? Should be past your bedtime."

"Bedtime?" Cassie feigned being confused by the word, "Hm. Not sure one of those exists during WrestleMania weekend. Besides, I've got some translation work to do for GCW. You?"

Simon took his seat again, gesturing to his drink, "What is it the youths say? Coping? Barely, but coping."

"You were a really good champ," Cassie parked her chair and pulled her own drink from the bag hanging at its side, "No one can take that from you."

Simon gave an annoyed sigh, "I understand that, but-"

"No buts, Simon," Cassie wagged a finger in his direction, "You can't be the man who ended Paul Robinson's title reign and complain that you didn't have a good title run. That's a fallacy."

"When you're right, you're right," Simon conceded as he took another sip from his glass. In the light of the poolside lights reflecting off of the blue water, he couldn't help but notice how pretty Cassie looked. Even in just a tank top and sleep shorts, she seemed perfectly put together. He had to advert his gaze, feeling like he was staring for too long. "Beautiful night out here, isn't it?"

"Changing the topic, Simon? Fine, I can change the subject," Cassie gave a shrug of her pale, bare shoulders, though her gaze never left Simon, "Night is only as good as the company."

"You like the company>?" Simon raised an eyebrow, "𝑾𝒉-"

"Don't work yourself into another one," Cassie tutted before her own eyes fell on the night sky above, "wished for someone to talk to tonight. You ever wish on a star?"

It was Simon's turn to watch her with a smile, "For someone who could pull me out of my funk. What do you know? We both got what we wanted."

[diskaywrites]

I Wake With Your Memory Over Me

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐁𝐞𝐤𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓𝟓𝟖

Ethan Allen knew before he even opened his eyes that the night before could never happen again. No matter how right it had felt, the evening of bliss had been a moment of weakness on both men's accounts. He had hoped that by the time the first morning light filtered through the blinds of the hotel room he had found himself in, the other man would be gone and he could push his anger and feelings down with a few shots of the same liquid courage that had landed him in the hotel bed in the first place.

The arm that draped over his midsection and the warm breath ghosting over the nape of his neck let Ethan know that his tag team partner, his best mate, Luke Jacobs hadn't decided to run off just yet.

"You shouldn't have stayed," Ethan murmured, his eyes shut tight and his back still to Luke. He could feel Luke's larger fingers splayed against his stomach, the press of the others lips against his neck, "Luke, I'm serious…"

"Do you regret it?" Luke murmured against the shell of Ethan's ear, the lingering scent of the beers the two had consumed the night before hanging on his breath.

Ethan rolled over onto his other side in the bed, thought Luke didn't remove his arm from around his waist. Did he regret it? Since the day Chris Ridgeway had introduced them with the intention to form a new faction, Ethan had found himself pulled into Luke's magnetic orbit. He knew he couldn't be faulted for that. Luke looked like a statue chiseled of marble that Apollo himself decided to breathe life into. His jawline was as sharp as his skill for picking up on the lessons he was taught. Ethan had always been enamored with his married stablemate and tag team partner for as long as he could remember.

𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅.

The word was as cold as the metal band he could feel around the finger of the man holding him that was pressed into his bare flesh. That was the biggest regret he had in this entire situation. Ethan loved Luke's wife Beka. She was funny and kind, she had never once questioned when Ethan stared a little too long or his fingers lingered on Luke's. A part of Ethan 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 that Beka knew how he felt. He just wasn't sure how to approach her about the topic, so he had remained silent with no intention to ever tell Luke how he felt.

The beers they had indulged in broke that promise he had made to himself.

"We can't do this to Beka," Ethan denied, though he made no effort to leave the embrace of the other man, "She deserves to know…"

"We'll tell her," Luke swore, "I promise you we'll tell her, but…"

"But what?" Ethan asked, resting his forehead against Luke's, sharing his breath.

"You didn't say if you regretted it," Luke's hand rubbed small circles against Ethan's lower back, as if trying to coax the answer from his best friend, "Because I don't. I could never regret you, Eth-"

Ethan pressed his lips to Luke's, his tongue daring into the waiting mouth of the other. He didn't need to use words to express his truth. He would never regret it. He would never regret the love he felt for Luke Jacobs.