#njpw verse tbt.

[dmndvtt]

@biiigtime , [ CHAIR ]: the distinct lack of available chairs in a room results in the sender having no choice but to sit in the receiver's lap.

the room was an absolute uproar with people moving about, a flurry of both japanese and english as all the bullet club filed in. another meeting, another upcoming show. but it appears as if his bride to be had no place to sit. no matter, he'd gladly let her use him as her rightful throne. a pat of thigh, a soft smile. " c'mon, my love. " an arm snakes 'round her after she sits, admiring the new jacket he'd had custom made for becky. he leans in to whisper in ear. " leather looks good on ya, "

[dmndvtt]

( 📱 ) contact name / ` love of my life 🧡☘️🔥

* cue finn looking at his phone, chuckling absurdly *

🗨️ : you never fail to make me laugh, love.

🗨️ : are you a charger? because i'm dying without you.

🗨️ : god, i miss you. i should be home soon. how are you feeling? our little girl craving anything today? i can stop by the store after i get out of the dojo. everyone sends their love and says they miss their iwgp women's champ.

10. a cheesy text @dmndvtt

⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ saved as ⠀ / ⠀ * ⠀ finn ♡.

💬 : are you a camera ?

💬 : cause all i do when i see you is smile.

[dmndvtt]

@biiigtime , visions.

the night air spills in through open window, and with it came the sounds of the japanese city life which carries on in the streets below. in the low apartment lighting, all which could be seen is the glint of the brass plates of their straps proudly displayed on nearby table. they had grown accustomed to the change in scenery, having made waves in the country's wrestling promotion. it's a far cry from competing in the european indies. in a way, he'd felt like they'd made it. they'd touched some semblance of success. here, prince devitt had been made to feel like a king, and the irishwoman a queen.

just hours ago, the iwgp junior heavyweight champion had been doing a devil's dance they'd done a thousand times over, but something about it had felt significantly different than times before. this felt momentous, an unknown, unspoken weight to it which he couldn't even come close to quantifying. the witching hour was upon them, and while becky slept peacefully beside him, his slumber had been anything but. heart pounds at an erratic rhythm, sweat begins to slick skin which had been freshly showered only hours prior. there's only one reason for this. the visions were back, and with a vengeance. like usual, they're choppy flashes like a poorly edited video.

an image of a baby he'd never seen before, bearing blue eyes that suddenly filled with red, merging to make an eerie violet hue. sudden jump to the dojo, small pale feet running around on the mats. static - like transition to a red sky, thunder almost drowning the screams of an anguished becky. a brief flicker of her reddened, sweaty face. a phantom pain of his hand being squeezed. another flash of lightning to see the symbol of wwe on a ring's apron, a small auburn - haired girl landing firmly upon it. again, another splice of memories yet to be had shows a little girl coming up to him with a bright red universal title belt. the concerned sound of a tiny irish cadence screaming for her father. was she talking to him?

no, no, it couldn't be.

a blip of an image of a teenaged version of the woman wrestling, begging for the chance to be trained. a flash of an image depicting the demon king, balor, in an image on book's page in what appeared to be the girl's grimoire. dad, wake up ... wake up ... dad!

with a sudden jolt and a grunted exclamation, the visions end, leaving him a drenched, panting mess in the bed. a familiar ache in his temple, one that's eluded him for some time. fingertips move to put pressure there, no relief. a slight turn of head reveals that his actions had roused his wife from her rest. an apologetic smile graces his face as he reaches towards her, brave expression in the wake of pure panic. all the while, questions plague distraught mind: why did this happen now? who was this child which seemed to haunt him? what did it all mean?

it would all become painfully obvious in the coming months, but until then he'd be experiencing flickers of his darling daughter finleigh in TORMENTING VISIONS he couldn't make sense of. he remains silent aside from slowly settling breaths. a singular digit reaches towards the pale cheek of becky. it's followed by a heavy sigh, hand moving to gently rake through fiery strands. " sorry, sweetheart ... " his voice comes in soft bravado, a slight tremble to it still. " didn't mean to wake ya. "

[dmndvtt]

there are a number of qualities in becky which he admired greatly, found himself adoring, even ones considered not so endearing. one was her patience. she, like himself to her, never rushed him in any aspect of their relationship. this included. a soft sigh as he leans into her thumb. eyes slip shut, love almost tangibly radiating off the demon in spades. " god, becks, i love ya. " he thinks out loud. despite this, there's a darkness, a heaviness in the air that even he can't put a name to. cerulean hues flicker once again to meet her own coffees. that immaculately beautiful countenance makes him practically swoon like he had back in their beginnings. yet, this feeling is met with a pensive expression wrought in hesitation. " mo chroí, you're so good t' me and understanding ... " he continues his musing, not quite certain of how really to explain himself.

suddenly, finn is hit by not a vision but the thought of how absolutely perfect it would be to have a daughter with her face, and the devil in her eyes. that's all him. wait! why is he thinking about that? this is maddening. " i hope. just 'as m' head in a fog. " it feels like a half baked explanation, but it's the truth nonetheless. he can feel her worry, practically seeps through his skin. he never really fully explained the visions, never had to. but this ... this felt like it needed an explanation. even if he doesn't have the words for it right now.

the minute she wrapped her arm around him, he's pulling her into his lap with a hum of contentment. even in times of great confusion, uncertainty, and turmoil she made him abundantly happy. becky was everything to him. he holds her against his frame, regarding her like a precious treasure. and all the while, the beginning stages of conception of another treasure is unwittingly coming to fruition. their entire lives are soon to change forever.

" that's ... understandable that ye' wouldn't. " a response met with fingers carding through her hair. her ministrations feel pleasant. he decided she needed soothed as much as he did. " yes, " he finally admits after a long time of silent contemplation as tender kisses are placed to her head. he might as well bite the bullet. " sometimes, visions don't really make sense until later on but this, lass. at least with the others, there's t 'ings i can make sense of tiny pieces but this one ... it couldn't possibly make any kind of sense. it felt like the girl didn't exist. i just don't know what t' t' ink about any of it. but, i'm sure it'll all sort itself out. " he doesn't want to cause further worry. she's already incredibly concerned. " just shook me a bit, lasted longer than usual. i'm so sorry t' make ye' worry, love. everything will be just fine though, i swear it. " it's not a false reassurance. it will. it's just as the next weeks unfold, more visions would continue to plague and confound him.

" are ye' okay, sweetheart? " he cradles her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. no matter what was going on with himself, he would always make sure his wife was alright. " do ya want to try and lay back down? we can stay up for a bit too, it's up to you. " his voice is gentle as the breeze coming in from the nearby window. hands fall to minor bruises left behind from earlier, hungry lustful mouth having left its mark. " guess i was quite passionate, huh? "

it's the hint of sleepiness behind familiar, brash accent that goes straight to his heart. it reminds him once again of one of many reasons why he positively adored her. even the ginger caresses of fingertips made him melt for a brief flicker of time, alleviates some turbulent anxiety ravaging him. but what doesn't leave him, what remains is the image of that child's face, and the haunting screams of her voice. a stubborn shake of head as if doing so would erase them. he can't help the slight upturn of lips, he can't help the urge to lie when she asks if he's alright.

" i ... " voice trails off, shaken still. uncertain if he should say. of course, he doesn't like telling her anything not true, but he likes worrying her less. much less. his sweet little girl. no matter how old they got, that's what she would always be, that sweet fifteen year old girl with puppy dog eyes full of love and the surface shine ambition provides. a breath of a laugh, and a long lingering silence between words spoken as he's watching her sit up and the dim lighting making her auburn locks look like flames cascading down becky's back. she's so beautiful, and even the sight of her hair provokes sonnets. that's not all it serves to do.

a brief flicker of the young woman he'd seen in the vision, the very same hair, a perfect match in shade. this time, he sees her looking at him with his eyes.

back to the present, and finn realizes he cannot get this one past her. she won't allow it. who could blame her? he looks like a drowned rat from sweating so profusely. and he's sure his face wears the confusion, the anxiety as plain as day. he leans into her touch, soft contact keeping him anchored to the earth. how did she manage to make everything better? okay, so maybe he ought to be honest? eyes slip shut, audible breath. " i don't know, love. but, i will be, i t' ink. i hope. "

static in the mind's eye gives another flicker, like that very word triggers the second's long revelation of a piece of paper, a legal document with the word HOPE contained on it. the rest unclear.

and just as abruptly as the visions began, the aftershocks cease and his head begins to feel normal. " it wasn't a bad dream, no. i - i ... it didn't make sense. " they were always difficult to explain. dismissive shrug, arms moving to pull her closer. hand clasps gently upon head, holding it to his chest. heart rate finally slowing. breathing at a smoother pace. " ya ever seen someone in ... well, it wasn't a dream but ... someone in your dreams that ye'd never met before? someone ye'r not entirely sure even existed? " to anyone else, he'd probably sound absolutely insane.

[dmndvtt]

the addition of her weight is not only a welcome sensation of pressure, but no matter what it was they were doing, having her in his proximity had always provided a comfort he'd gotten nowhere else, from anyone else. being the leader of the bullet club came with certain responsibilities which he found less than pleasant, but it was work which needs to be done. a piece - a large piece - of himself was glad for limited spaces to sit. this gave them the serendipitous opportunity to be oh so close, will undoubtedly make this much more bearable. " of course, " there's a glint of mischief behind devilish hues the minute he takes note of blushing cheeks. by the gods, how was this girl real? they'd been together for a couple years now and he still questioned it. " i know, i happened to t' ink y'are testament of that. "

@biiigtime , [ CHAIR ]: the distinct lack of available chairs in a room results in the sender having no choice but to sit in the receiver's lap.

the room was an absolute uproar with people moving about, a flurry of both japanese and english as all the bullet club filed in. another meeting, another upcoming show. but it appears as if his bride to be had no place to sit. no matter, he'd gladly let her use him as her rightful throne. a pat of thigh, a soft smile. " c'mon, my love. " an arm snakes 'round her after she sits, admiring the new jacket he'd had custom made for becky. he leans in to whisper in ear. " leather looks good on ya, "

[dmndvtt]

it's the hint of sleepiness behind familiar, brash accent that goes straight to his heart. it reminds him once again of one of many reasons why he positively adored her. even the ginger caresses of fingertips made him melt for a brief flicker of time, alleviates some turbulent anxiety ravaging him. but what doesn't leave him, what remains is the image of that child's face, and the haunting screams of her voice. a stubborn shake of head as if doing so would erase them. he can't help the slight upturn of lips, he can't help the urge to lie when she asks if he's alright.

" i ... " voice trails off, shaken still. uncertain if he should say. of course, he doesn't like telling her anything not true, but he likes worrying her less. much less. his sweet little girl. no matter how old they got, that's what she would always be, that sweet fifteen year old girl with puppy dog eyes full of love and the surface shine ambition provides. a breath of a laugh, and a long lingering silence between words spoken as he's watching her sit up and the dim lighting making her auburn locks look like flames cascading down becky's back. she's so beautiful, and even the sight of her hair provokes sonnets. that's not all it serves to do.

a brief flicker of the young woman he'd seen in the vision, the very same hair, a perfect match in shade. this time, he sees her looking at him with his eyes.

back to the present, and finn realizes he cannot get this one past her. she won't allow it. who could blame her? he looks like a drowned rat from sweating so profusely. and he's sure his face wears the confusion, the anxiety as plain as day. he leans into her touch, soft contact keeping him anchored to the earth. how did she manage to make everything better? okay, so maybe he ought to be honest? eyes slip shut, audible breath. " i don't know, love. but, i will be, i t' ink. i hope. "

static in the mind's eye gives another flicker, like that very word triggers the second's long revelation of a piece of paper, a legal document with the word HOPE contained on it. the rest unclear.

and just as abruptly as the visions began, the aftershocks cease and his head begins to feel normal. " it wasn't a bad dream, no. i - i ... it didn't make sense. " they were always difficult to explain. dismissive shrug, arms moving to pull her closer. hand clasps gently upon head, holding it to his chest. heart rate finally slowing. breathing at a smoother pace. " ya ever seen someone in ... well, it wasn't a dream but ... someone in your dreams that ye'd never met before? someone ye'r not entirely sure even existed? " to anyone else, he'd probably sound absolutely insane.

@biiigtime , visions.

the night air spills in through open window, and with it came the sounds of the japanese city life which carries on in the streets below. in the low apartment lighting, all which could be seen is the glint of the brass plates of their straps proudly displayed on nearby table. they had grown accustomed to the change in scenery, having made waves in the country's wrestling promotion. it's a far cry from competing in the european indies. in a way, he'd felt like they'd made it. they'd touched some semblance of success. here, prince devitt had been made to feel like a king, and the irishwoman a queen.

just hours ago, the iwgp junior heavyweight champion had been doing a devil's dance they'd done a thousand times over, but something about it had felt significantly different than times before. this felt momentous, an unknown, unspoken weight to it which he couldn't even come close to quantifying. the witching hour was upon them, and while becky slept peacefully beside him, his slumber had been anything but. heart pounds at an erratic rhythm, sweat begins to slick skin which had been freshly showered only hours prior. there's only one reason for this. the visions were back, and with a vengeance. like usual, they're choppy flashes like a poorly edited video.

an image of a baby he'd never seen before, bearing blue eyes that suddenly filled with red, merging to make an eerie violet hue. sudden jump to the dojo, small pale feet running around on the mats. static - like transition to a red sky, thunder almost drowning the screams of an anguished becky. a brief flicker of her reddened, sweaty face. a phantom pain of his hand being squeezed. another flash of lightning to see the symbol of wwe on a ring's apron, a small auburn - haired girl landing firmly upon it. again, another splice of memories yet to be had shows a little girl coming up to him with a bright red universal title belt. the concerned sound of a tiny irish cadence screaming for her father. was she talking to him?

no, no, it couldn't be.

a blip of an image of a teenaged version of the woman wrestling, begging for the chance to be trained. a flash of an image depicting the demon king, balor, in an image on book's page in what appeared to be the girl's grimoire. dad, wake up ... wake up ... dad!

with a sudden jolt and a grunted exclamation, the visions end, leaving him a drenched, panting mess in the bed. a familiar ache in his temple, one that's eluded him for some time. fingertips move to put pressure there, no relief. a slight turn of head reveals that his actions had roused his wife from her rest. an apologetic smile graces his face as he reaches towards her, brave expression in the wake of pure panic. all the while, questions plague distraught mind: why did this happen now? who was this child which seemed to haunt him? what did it all mean?

it would all become painfully obvious in the coming months, but until then he'd be experiencing flickers of his darling daughter finleigh in TORMENTING VISIONS he couldn't make sense of. he remains silent aside from slowly settling breaths. a singular digit reaches towards the pale cheek of becky. it's followed by a heavy sigh, hand moving to gently rake through fiery strands. " sorry, sweetheart ... " his voice comes in soft bravado, a slight tremble to it still. " didn't mean to wake ya. "

[biiigtime]

she’s not upset about ‘ having ’ to sit here. being close is never a bad thing when it’s him. no such thing as ‘ too close ’ when you want to be as close as possible. with anyone else, she might feel a little embarrassed for being slightly intimate in front of bullet club. but since it’s him, becky doesn’t care. and since it’s him, she doesn’t care about eyes that are or aren’t on them. her nails scratch gently over his forearm, mostly out of habit, as her eyes scan over the room then back to him. “ stop it, ” a soft laugh from her lips, almost to let him know she doesn’t want him to stop, “ your sweet talking just doesn’t get old ”

the addition of her weight is not only a welcome sensation of pressure, but no matter what it was they were doing, having her in his proximity had always provided a comfort he'd gotten nowhere else, from anyone else. being the leader of the bullet club came with certain responsibilities which he found less than pleasant, but it was work which needs to be done. a piece - a large piece - of himself was glad for limited spaces to sit. this gave them the serendipitous opportunity to be oh so close, will undoubtedly make this much more bearable. " of course, " there's a glint of mischief behind devilish hues the minute he takes note of blushing cheeks. by the gods, how was this girl real? they'd been together for a couple years now and he still questioned it. " i know, i happened to t' ink y'are testament of that. "

[biiigtime]

his words do little to make it easier to digest what was happening. that she didn’t know what was happening was one thing, that he wasn’t sure he was going to be okay was a whole other. she doesn’t move her hand from him, not yet. has to make sure he’s going to be okay before she even considers letting him go. she’s patient — or trying to be, anyway. she lies waiting, thumb still running gentle circles on his temple. she won’t push anything, won’t make him feel the need to speak to her quickly or pressure things on him. he can take as much time as he needs to get words out. she’s well awake now, anyway. has all the time in the world for him. “ you think ? ”

other people would think he was crazy, but becky was not other people. had known him long enough to know that sometimes he woke up in a cold sweat. nothing she could do to prevent them from happening, certainly not when he couldn’t do it. she was only human. but, she could offer a soft touch and a gentle word. like always.

she tries to stop her own anxiety level from rising, that sinking feeling the something much worse was going on. something that she had no way of understanding. her arm wraps around his lower stomach, cheek pressed against his chest as he grasps the back of her head. the covers to the bed are left behind, chest pressing to side. it’s relieving to hear his heartbeat, having it be normal. or, as normal as it could be in a scenario like this. he didn’t sound insane to her, he couldn’t. this, though, this was definitely different than it had been before. she chooses honestly, “ i can’t say i have. ” her hand soothes over his chest, thumb moving back and forth. “ is that what’s happening now, then ? someone you don’t know if they exist ? ”

it's the hint of sleepiness behind familiar, brash accent that goes straight to his heart. it reminds him once again of one of many reasons why he positively adored her. even the ginger caresses of fingertips made him melt for a brief flicker of time, alleviates some turbulent anxiety ravaging him. but what doesn't leave him, what remains is the image of that child's face, and the haunting screams of her voice. a stubborn shake of head as if doing so would erase them. he can't help the slight upturn of lips, he can't help the urge to lie when she asks if he's alright.

" i ... " voice trails off, shaken still. uncertain if he should say. of course, he doesn't like telling her anything not true, but he likes worrying her less. much less. his sweet little girl. no matter how old they got, that's what she would always be, that sweet fifteen year old girl with puppy dog eyes full of love and the surface shine ambition provides. a breath of a laugh, and a long lingering silence between words spoken as he's watching her sit up and the dim lighting making her auburn locks look like flames cascading down becky's back. she's so beautiful, and even the sight of her hair provokes sonnets. that's not all it serves to do.

a brief flicker of the young woman he'd seen in the vision, the very same hair, a perfect match in shade. this time, he sees her looking at him with his eyes.

back to the present, and finn realizes he cannot get this one past her. she won't allow it. who could blame her? he looks like a drowned rat from sweating so profusely. and he's sure his face wears the confusion, the anxiety as plain as day. he leans into her touch, soft contact keeping him anchored to the earth. how did she manage to make everything better? okay, so maybe he ought to be honest? eyes slip shut, audible breath. " i don't know, love. but, i will be, i t' ink. i hope. "

static in the mind's eye gives another flicker, like that very word triggers the second's long revelation of a piece of paper, a legal document with the word HOPE contained on it. the rest unclear.

and just as abruptly as the visions began, the aftershocks cease and his head begins to feel normal. " it wasn't a bad dream, no. i - i ... it didn't make sense. " they were always difficult to explain. dismissive shrug, arms moving to pull her closer. hand clasps gently upon head, holding it to his chest. heart rate finally slowing. breathing at a smoother pace. " ya ever seen someone in ... well, it wasn't a dream but ... someone in your dreams that ye'd never met before? someone ye'r not entirely sure even existed? " to anyone else, he'd probably sound absolutely insane.

[biiigtime]

new his & hers bruises littered their bodies, and she’d be lucky if she stood on anything more than wobbly legs tomorrow. truly, a devil’s dance. something was different, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. it’s a moment that should be normal, nothing extremely spectacular had happened throughout the day to mark this as significant, it was more so a feeling than anything. something she couldn’t quite get passed. becky had been sleeping awfully peacefully, all things considered. body turned towards that of her husband’s, and while they usually slept bodies pressed together, that was not the case tonight.

“ that’s alright, ” voice is still sleepy, but the tension she feels coming off him fills it with worry. becky was asleep, she’s not now. she’s quick to turn over to her side, arm extending for her fingers to rub slow, soothing circles along his shoulder. she didn’t know all the details of what had happened, didn’t need to if he didn’t want to tell her. “ are you okay ? ” it feels like a question she shouldn’t have asked, like the answer was obvious in front of her. she rubs her eyes free of any lingering sleep with her non occupied hand, sees that almost fearful look behind his eyes.

he can put a brave face on all he’d like, she knew him better than to believe it. she sits up slightly, letting go of him for a moment so covers can come with her. “ don’t tell me you’re okay if you’re not, ” her hand reaches over to his face, thumb applying light pressure to where his was minutes ago, “ what’s wrong ? bad dream ? ” she worried, of course she did. it wasn’t often he got like this, and that concerned look in his eyes was something she just couldn’t get passed.

@biiigtime , visions.

the night air spills in through open window, and with it came the sounds of the japanese city life which carries on in the streets below. in the low apartment lighting, all which could be seen is the glint of the brass plates of their straps proudly displayed on nearby table. they had grown accustomed to the change in scenery, having made waves in the country's wrestling promotion. it's a far cry from competing in the european indies. in a way, he'd felt like they'd made it. they'd touched some semblance of success. here, prince devitt had been made to feel like a king, and the irishwoman a queen.

just hours ago, the iwgp junior heavyweight champion had been doing a devil's dance they'd done a thousand times over, but something about it had felt significantly different than times before. this felt momentous, an unknown, unspoken weight to it which he couldn't even come close to quantifying. the witching hour was upon them, and while becky slept peacefully beside him, his slumber had been anything but. heart pounds at an erratic rhythm, sweat begins to slick skin which had been freshly showered only hours prior. there's only one reason for this. the visions were back, and with a vengeance. like usual, they're choppy flashes like a poorly edited video.

an image of a baby he'd never seen before, bearing blue eyes that suddenly filled with red, merging to make an eerie violet hue. sudden jump to the dojo, small pale feet running around on the mats. static - like transition to a red sky, thunder almost drowning the screams of an anguished becky. a brief flicker of her reddened, sweaty face. a phantom pain of his hand being squeezed. another flash of lightning to see the symbol of wwe on a ring's apron, a small auburn - haired girl landing firmly upon it. again, another splice of memories yet to be had shows a little girl coming up to him with a bright red universal title belt. the concerned sound of a tiny irish cadence screaming for her father. was she talking to him?

no, no, it couldn't be.

a blip of an image of a teenaged version of the woman wrestling, begging for the chance to be trained. a flash of an image depicting the demon king, balor, in an image on book's page in what appeared to be the girl's grimoire. dad, wake up ... wake up ... dad!

with a sudden jolt and a grunted exclamation, the visions end, leaving him a drenched, panting mess in the bed. a familiar ache in his temple, one that's eluded him for some time. fingertips move to put pressure there, no relief. a slight turn of head reveals that his actions had roused his wife from her rest. an apologetic smile graces his face as he reaches towards her, brave expression in the wake of pure panic. all the while, questions plague distraught mind: why did this happen now? who was this child which seemed to haunt him? what did it all mean?

it would all become painfully obvious in the coming months, but until then he'd be experiencing flickers of his darling daughter finleigh in TORMENTING VISIONS he couldn't make sense of. he remains silent aside from slowly settling breaths. a singular digit reaches towards the pale cheek of becky. it's followed by a heavy sigh, hand moving to gently rake through fiery strands. " sorry, sweetheart ... " his voice comes in soft bravado, a slight tremble to it still. " didn't mean to wake ya. "