#or did he say something crude because rook walked into the room? like that one banter with emmrich where lucanis goes

[emmavakarian-theirin]

what did he DO

[suwundae]

Rook YandereXReader (Pt. 1)

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“Everything’s felt weird now that I have to share Ramshackle. Of course there was always the ghosts and Grim but they felt like family. Now there’s just a bunch of strangers here every single day… Having Deuce and Ace live here hasn’t been…awful…at the very least? We’ve basically been joint at the hip (ignoring how gross that felt to write) since I got here so with them it’s just feels like a sleepover. I’ve sort of known Epel because Jack would invite him to sit with us at lunch but we wouldn’t talk to each other. Jamil is��another story entirely. Everytime I see him I just… It’s like I’m back there. I see glimpses of that day. It’s been happening with all of them, not just him. Leona, Riddle, Azul… Even sometimes with Jade and Floyd. It’s not like I’m afraid of them or anything. At least I don’t think I am? I’ve just been avoiding them, y’know to be safe. Anyways, then there’s Rook and Vil- I think his name was. Vice Housewarden and Housewarden of Pomefiore respectively. Vil kinda makes me uncomfortable… He’s really pretty but he tends to take the “tough love” approach, something I’m not always in the mood for… Rook is alright. He’s been pretty nice to me since we met (not counting the time he shot an arrow at me) so that’s cool. I like his haircut. I will never not be entertained by the way his hair moves.” 

You had tried to ignore it as you wrote but the feeling that someone was watching you kept growing. You weren’t saying you were paranoid, but it’s not as if this was the first time you thought you were being watched and found nothing, so you assumed this was the same…

…

…

Letting the feeling get the better of you, you turned around and flinched. You were not prepared for the very man you were writing about to manifest himself behind you. 

“Bonjour petite fleur.” 

“Holy sh-ugar…” You gasped. The wonderful thing of living with Vil was that you now got lectures on your “crude language”. 

Ripping one of your earbuds out, you stared at him for an explanation. When he clearly wasn’t going to give you one, you simply asked, “How long have you been standing there?” “Not long.”

He smiled but it didn’t ease your mind in the slightest. Instead, it made you more tense, which caused the sudden new voice that appeared farther back to make you jump. 

“Is it okay if we use the living room to practice for a bit?” 

You turned from Rook to see Epel with Deuce following closely behind him yet standing A comfortable distance away. You wished he could learn a thing or two from their example.  

“Oh yeah, go for it.” 

You didn’t mind much, anyways. Ramshackle was more than big enough for you to find a new space to put off your schoolwork while they practiced their complex routine. You were just glad you didn’t have to be a part of it. 

“Thank you.” Epel said, his tone shifting once he caught sight of the blonde in the room. 

You quickly gathered your things from the coffee table, shoved your phone in your pocket, and headed for the stairs. 

“You don’t plan on staying?”

Looking at Deuce’s now red cheeks you already knew your answer. That was, until you traced Epel’s gaze and noticed he wasn’t actually looking at you, but the person behind you, Rook. Somehow he had followed you from the couch to the stairs and you didn’t hear a single footstep. 

“Oh? Is there something you need Monsieur Cherry Apple?” 

“Me and- er… Deuce and I were having trouble with this part of the dance…” The message was not received as Rook showed no signs of heading down the stairs to join them. “You think you could walk us through it?” 

Now his attention was finally on Epel and off of you. 

While they talked, you took this opportunity to make your way to your room. You closed the door behind you and flung your body onto your bed, listening to the century old bed frame creak under your weight. A sigh left your lips before you pulled out your phone and checked its volume level. 

“Damn, how loud did I have this?” You wondered, trying to piece together how Rook was able to sneak up on you so perfectly twice in a row tonight. As you continued to think about it, you realized that this wasn’t the only time he just seemed to appear out of thin air. Nine times out of ten any time you turned a corner at school or in this house he’d be around it waiting to escort you to your next destination. 

“Maybe Vil was right. My music is making me go deaf.” 

You rolled your eyes at the thought as if it was an impossibility. Bringing your attention back to your phone, you scrolled through any new text messages you received. Random texts in group chats, videos Cater would send throughout the day, that recipe you asked Ruggie for (and had a feeling you’d regret later), and a few texts from Rook. Nothing too important but it did remind you of the song he said you should listen to. 

Opening the link sent you to some song in French and listening to it transported you. It was calming and gentle. The woman’s voice made you want to hold someone and dance under the moonlight. The instruments felt like a breeze, swaying the flowers in a meadow to move with you- dance with you and your faceless love throughout the night. You could almost even feel the midnight air kiss your skin as you laid there in your bed, dreaming up the perfect scene. Then thunder and light rain which confused you because you could actually feel it. Looking up, another droplet landed right between your eyes. 

“Shit, is that another hole?” You groaned, quickly getting off your bed to avoid any more unwanted water. Once your stomach growled again you realized that the thunder wasn’t in your head either, so you went downstairs to at the very least grab a quick snack. It seemed like the trio that was once down here had cleared the area a long time ago, which made you wonder how much time you spent listening to that song…

“Oh, hello.” 

◌‧₊ *:･ﾟ彡 ◌ ☽︎ ◌

◌ ✩彡 ･ﾟ *:◌

◌ ◌

◌

♡

(\_(\  /)_/)

(    ) (    )

★do good ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙ → ૮/ʚɞ |ა ૮| ʚɞ\ა ← ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙things★

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[lolzcollz]

F R A I L

You always remember the first call when you’re a rookie. If you’re lucky you get a normal first call, nothing too out of the ordinary. If you’re an unlucky bastard, like me, you get something…else. I’ve heard of some pretty far out there calls; don’t get me wrong, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, this was one of those calls you don’t forget easily. No matter how hard I’ve tried. It was pretty straight forward as to what happened and who did it kind of thing but the circumstances. God, the circumstances. I���ll never forget.

It was my first week on the force. I was a young and spry twenty something year old with pep in my step. I couldn’t believe I had actually done it. Ever since I was a little boy I’d wanted to be a police officer and twenty years later there I was, standing in the station, wearing my uniform and nothing could have gone wrong. At least, I didn’t think anything could have gone wrong.

That first week went by without any issues. I was getting my footing around the place and feeling it all out. I was informed that starting the week after I’d be moved to the graveyard shift. One, because I was the rookie and two, because hardly anything major ever happened during those hours. I wouldn’t be alone, I’d have a couple other more veteran cops with me should anything happen. I didn’t mind, I was stoked to just be there.

The next week, I started my graveyard shifts. It wasn’t all that bad. It took a couple days to get used to the change in schedule but by Thursday I was golden. They were right, not too much happened during those hours. It was a lot of us standing around trying to stay awake. There was the occasional drunkenly misconduct but when that happened I stayed behind while the other cops handled business. A few weeks in I still hadn’t gone on any actual calls.

“When am I going to go with you guys?” I asked my superior one night.

“Soon, rook, don’t worry.” He assured me.

One night the week after, we got a call around three in the morning. I was working on my third cup of coffee of the night. I sat at my desk and was reading through some old files when I felt a hand smack my back.

“Well, kid, you ready?” My superior asked me with a smile on his face.

“Really?” I asked him.

“Really, let’s go.” I followed him to the car and jumped in the passenger side. I could hardly contain my excitement.

“What kind of call is it?” I asked.

“We got a disturbance. Someone heard screaming coming from the next door where an elderly woman lives.” He guided the car down the road with ease. I wondered what could have happened at this house. Could it be a home invasion? My mind started racing with the possibilities of what we were about to walk into. Nothing could have prepared me for what it actually was.

We pulled up to the house only ten minutes after the call was made. I followed my superior’s lead and we walked up to the front door. He knocked firmly on the door three times and called out, “Police.” We waited and waited but there was no answer. He knocked again and called out once more that we were police and we were coming in. He jingled the front door knob and found it to be open. We looked at each other with raised eyebrows. The door creaked open and we both stepped inside.

The house was dark. We both pulled out our flashlights and clicked them on. When my beam of light came on it was pointed directly at a smear of blood on the stairs. My heart started to hammer in my chest so loudly I was worried my superior would hear it.

“What the fuck?” I heard him whisper when he noticed the blood. He took his flashlight and also pointed it towards the stairs. We both swept the stairs with our lights looking up and down. To me, it seemed like someone had dragged someone else up the stairs while they were bleeding. I realized then that this was not a normal call.

“Shouldn’t we get back up or something?” I asked. I didn’t want to sound like I couldn’t handle whatever this situation was but the amount of blood on those stairs…It didn’t feel right.

“Not yet.” He said, “Come on.” He slowly started to walk up the bloody stairs. “Careful not to step in the blood.” He advised me. My gut really did not want me to follow him up the stairs. All I wanted to do was turn around and walk right out that door and let people who knew what they were doing handle this situation. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem like an option I was being given so I followed him up the stairs.

We got to the landing on the top of the stairs when I heard a noise. It sounded like someone smacking their lips in an over exaggerated way. Like when someone is chewing and they really can’t keep the noises to themselves. My arms broke out into chills as soon as I heard the noise. I had no idea what it could have been.

“Do you hear that?” I whispered to my superior. He shushed me quietly. He crouched down low and started to walk towards the sound. I had to fight with my body to continue. My legs were frozen in fear. My mind was screaming and yelling at my legs to start working and get a move on. Finally, it worked. I, too, crouched down and started making my way towards that noise.

We came to a room with a door that was shut. We listened closely and determined that was definitely where the noise was coming from. My superior looked back at me with a question in his eyes. Was I ready? I paused for a second and asked myself the same question. I was definitely not ready but I had no choice. I wanted to be a cop so badly and now here I was and I was freezing up, not able to perform. I needed to get my head in the game and shake these nerves. I looked at my superior and I slowly nodded.

My superior reached up for the door handle and when he grasped it, he turned the knob ever so slightly. I couldn’t believe how calm and steady his hand was. I looked down at my own and it was shaking. He turned the knob fully and it made a click. He waited. The noise was still happening. Whatever was going on in that room didn’t hear the door knob turn and didn’t know we were outside the room. That was a good thing, I told myself, we have the element of surprise on our side. Once the door opened wide enough I caught my first glimpses inside the room.

The bedroom was dark. There was only a little bit of light shining in through the windows from the streetlamps outside. I leaned over to my right to I could see what was happening and I froze. There was a man straddling a woman on the bed. The man seemed young, probably around my age, and he was completely naked. The woman he was straddling was old. I could see the wrinkles on her arm and hand. The man was bent over the woman so his face was covering her face and I couldn’t make out either of their features. The door opened more and more until it made a slight creak. The man quickly turned his head to look over in our direction. He looked at me directly in the eyes and I could see better now what was happening.

The man had blood all over his face. It was smeared on his lips like poorly applied lipstick and there was some dripping out of a puddle in his mouth. I looked down at the woman and saw that half her face was gone. It was crudely ripped out so the pieces of her flesh were jagged. I felt my dinner start the rise from my stomach. Before I could comprehend what was happening, the man jumped off of the woman and rushed towards us. I heard a loud bang and the man fell to the ground. My ears were ringing and my mind was completely blank. I was seeing what was in front of me but no part of my brain comprehended it. I scooted myself to put my back against the hallway wall and stared at the opposite wall for a long time.

I don’t know how long it was before someone was saying my name. The voice felt too far in the distance like it was calling to me from half a mile away. When I snapped back into my consciousness I saw a person standing in front of me waving their hand in front of my eyes.

“You in there?” They asked me. I looked up and saw it was a paramedic who was talking to me.

“Huh?” I asked.

“Can you stand up and come with me?” He asked and waited patiently as I tried to find my feet. I eventually planted my feet firmly on the ground and stood up straight. The paramedic started to walk and I started to follow. We went down the stairs which were still covered in blood and walked out the front door. He led me to an ambulance and indicated for me to sit down. I did. He put a blanket over my shoulders and asked me to tell him my name. I opened my mouth to answer but no words would come out. He stood waiting for a minute until I closed my mouth again and looked down, embarrassed. How could I not be able to tell him my name?

“It’s okay. You’re in shock right now. It might take a little bit before you start to feel okay.” He explained. I nodded. He told me I could lie down if I wanted and so I did. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

That was almost three decades ago but I still wake up in the middle of the night sweating when I think about that man running towards us. My superior put a bullet right through his forehead. Since then I’ve seen some fucked up shit but that lady with her face eaten…I won’t ever get that image out of my mind. I’ve tried therapy, self-medication, shit I’ve even tried hypnosis but she always finds her way back. I thought the whole experience would make me not want to be a cop anymore but if anything I think it just revamped my want. It was no longer a matter of wanting to be a cop anymore. I needed to be a cop after seeing that.

     10.11.2019

Colleen Burke

[winedwords]

Pete| Bloodsport |Dunne

Title; Bloodsport

Words; 4310

Pairing; Pete Dunne/Reader

Summary; It’s too late, you gave up your last chance to walk away.

Warnings; NSFW. Crude and suggestive language, UST, biting, some depictions of violence, smutty smut smut smut, latex free

A/N: repost from the old blog

Babe, you’re a hard game to catch. You fight and refuse, oh, you’re a wild little bruise.

“Ya look like shite.”

That’s it. I’ve been travelling for ten hours with little to no sleep direct from Orlando and I did not have the patience for this at seven in the morning. I still felt gross from the flight, the quick shower I had at the hotel had done nothing to refresh me, and the scowl on my face certainly didn’t help my appearance any. All I wanted was a proper meal and a nap, as I hadn’t slept in twenty hours, and I had been fueled only by protein bars and overly sugary coffee . Smart ass comments from one of my best friends lent nothing to better my mood.

“Finn, you ass, if you do not have a giant cup of coffee in your hand for me, I’m going to ruin your good shoulder.”

The Irishman further down the street from me just laughed at my acerbic words, still marching towards me. He’d been around me too long to be affected by my sometimes acidic tongue and he knew me too well, based off of the cup in his hand.

“Already got ye covered, love.”

I quickly closed the distance between us, making grabby hands all the while. I snatched the almost comically large cup of coffee out of his hands and took a deep swig, barely feeling the scalding liquid in the bitter English cold.

“I see where I stand, the coffee is more important than me.” He was still laughing, his head thrown back and eyes bright. I made a face, before wrapping him up in a deep hug. I hadn’t seen him in a solid three weeks and I was craving some time with my favorite nerd. He’d looked to be doing great, arm out of the sling and his face line free from stress. I could feel the soft smile creeping onto my face as he returned my hug.

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass, Bálor. Where are Regal and Hunter?”

Finn wrapped an arm around my shoulder, having noticed my shiver at a particularly strong gust of wind, and we started into the Empress Ballroom.

“Their flight was delayed from Hartford to London. They’re another two hours behind ye.”

I groaned, leaning into my friend as we neared the venue.

Finn and I were… a bit of an odd duo. It confounded people how we were friends. He was almost universally liked, sweet and nonthreatening. He was quick to smile, always willing to lend a hand, and he built stuff with Legos as a damn hobby. I, on the other hand, am a pretty divisive individual.

When I had come to the WWE, I was a bright eyed and idealistic intern ready to help make magic happen. I hadn’t been ready for the politics and the double crosses, the backstage drama and the gossip. That year long internship had taken a happy-go-lucky sorority girl and molded her into what some would say was a ruthless and shrewd harpy. Looking back, I wasn’t inclined to disagree. The talent I worked with was lovely, but the other members of the backstage staff was an entirely different beast.

It was all about power. First it was seizing it, through whatever means necessary and regardless of the cost. I will not lie, I did discreetly sabotage coworkers to get ahead. I played with their emotions and preyed on their insecurities. Then it was a game of using that power and keeping it by any means necessary. Influence and currying favor was how you got ahead backstage. We didn’t have the luxury of being in front of a camera and rallying the support of the audience behind us. We had to grind our competition to dust. Regal had noticed the change and approved, to a degree. I got results. I kept the personal entanglements to a minimum. I solved problems before they became problems and had shown promise in playing the backstage games.

I don’t know what I did to deserve Finn and his friendship. He’d shown up to NXT several months after I had started and he’d made it his mission to befriend me almost immediately. It had taken him weeks of near constant annoying me with his attempts at friendship before I relented and I didn’t regret it. I’d questioned him on why me multiple times. Each time he gave the same small, almost sad smile and simply stated that he saw a little of who he was in Japan in me. He never did elaborate after and I never pressed him for details.

“They were supposed to be the big welcoming committee. Is Nigel going to be there at least? We could always flip the order of things and have you two run them through drills?”

Finn shrugged next to me.

“We could? I know more than a couple of these lads and they’re damn good. Dunno how they’ll feel about being made to run drills like some rooks.”

We paused at the rear entrance to the Ballroom and I turned with a raised brow to my friend.

“What do you mean?”

Finn dragged a hand down his face.

“What I mean is that most of them will be fine, but there’s a couple that are concernin’. Ya don’t need ya any additional help makin’ any enemies in these two weeks, love. Not with that charmin’ personality.”

I scowled and went to bite back a retort, when Nigel McGuinness opened the door to beckon us in from the cold. The older man just looked at us knowingly, before guiding us to the locker room where all the talent for the tournament were.

I did really like Nigel. We’d only met a couple of times, but the Englishman was sweet with old school manners. Daniel Bryan had nearly died laughing when I had told him my opinion of Nigel. I didn’t understand until I was shown old footage of their battles back in Ring of Honor and to be honest, it only made me feel even warmer towards the older man. He presented himself as a charming member of the old guard, but that sweet countenance disguised a cunning nature and a keen mind for this business.

I wasted no time pushing the door open and announcing myself, heels clicking loudly.

“Good morning gentlemen, my name is (Y/N). I’m the executive assistant to William Regal.”

I had begun moving through the veritable sea of large men in the locker room, heading towards what appeared to be a makeshift podium. My voice carried, the tone clipped and authoritative, and the room hushed to a murmur.

“Bet that ya assist him with a lot of things.”

The heavy innuendo in the loudly spoken words that came from behind me caused all motion and noise to cease in the room. You could have heard a pin drop.

I had stopped when the man behind me spoke, my back rigid and one hand tightening around the coffee cup, the other forming into a fist. I took some deep breaths and counted backwards from ten, trying to keep from flying off the handle. This was far from the first time this particular insinuation had been made, but it got no less frustrating every time. I was entirely too sleep deprived and cranky to deal with this.

I turned with a flourish on my heeled boots to face the speaker, a brilliant smile on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Finn grab Nigel’s arm, the Irishman shaking his head with a small, crooked smile. The vote of confidence was definitely appreciated as I sized up the man who’d implied that I was fucking my boss.

Dirty blonde and broad, the man in front of me was indeed attractive, but the shit eating smirk was what really lit the fire in my blood. I was quick to saunter into his personal bubble, using the hand not holding my coffee to straighten his suit jacket.

“What’s your name, handsome?” My words were so sugary sweet that they made my gums ache, teeth bared in what barely passed for a smile.

His chest puffed out at my attention and I could feel the tensing on his muscles wherever my hand trailed.

“It’s Pete Dunne love.” He was so self satisfied and practically preening knowing that every eye in the room was on him. Even on four inch heels, I still had to tilt my head upwards to hold a gaze with his blue-gray eyes. I measured my next words carefully, my tongue wetting my lower lip thoughtfully. His eyes trained on my mouth for a brief moment, pupils dilating and nostrils flaring, before the blue-gray eyes flicked back to mine.

Curious.

“Ohhh… So  you’re the one that we took because we couldn’t get Scurll. It’s good to put a face to the name. Well, Petey boy, I’m glad you said something so I only have to say this once.”

The smirk dropped from his face faster than a stone at my words and the subtle raising of my voice. The echoes of my words reverberated around the locker room and I could feel a crackle of electricity between the Englishman and myself. There was a fire that sparked in his eyes and his lips curled into a snarl. The look on his face made something heat in my stomach and emboldened my next words.

“I am Mr. Regal’s eyes, ears, and right hand. When I speak, you are to assume that I speak with Mr. Regal’s full authority, because I do. I control the schedules, I control the flow of the work day, I control the access.  I am the goddamn gatekeeper. My opinion is important to Mr. Regal, and his opinion is important to Mr. Helmsley. You all would do well to remember that.”

I paused for a moment, before continuing, “I’m not saying that I’m the tiebreaker, but I have… influence.”

It felt like the room took a collective intake of breath at my impassioned speech and I could have sworn I heard Finn snort from behind me. The wrestler in front of me wisely kept his mouth shut, the muscles in his jaw rapidly clenching, and his eyes dark and heated. There was an electric energy between the two of us that would have warranted further investigation, if our surroundings were different. I gave a couple pats to the lapels of his jacket before removing my hand and speaking again, never breaking eye contact.

“Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted. The big boss men had their flight delayed and they are going to be two hours late. In the meantime, you’ll be running drills with the two men at the back of the room, Finn Bálor and Nigel McGuinness. Any questions?”

I don’t know what possessed me to toss a wink at the intense man in front of me, but I did before turning to survey the room. There was no movement and the men were purposefully avoiding my eyes.  I could feel Pete inching closer into my space, trying to crowd me into being intimidated by his size. I turned back to him, eye contact unflinching.

“And Mr. Bálor? Do me a favor. Make sure you have Mr. Dunne here run extra drills. It appears he needs to let off some steam.”

Dunne and I were practically nose to nose, the smell of his cologne and something pleasantly unidentifiable surrounding me. I was thankful for the long sleeves, because I could feel gooseflesh breaking out across my arms not because of the cold, but because of the energy crackling between us. The scowl on his face smoothed and stretched into a challenging smirk, his gray-blue eyes sharper than flint. He’d opened his mouth to say something, but Nigel interjected before Dunne could get a word out.

“Go change, young man. Drills start in ten.” The older man bit out, with a hand gripping Dunne’s elbow. The younger wrestler didn’t even look the least bit put out, his smirk widening to Cheshire levels.

“You best come watch us run drills, love. Would hate for you to miss the best the UK has to offer.”

He pursed his lips at me in a crude imitation of a kiss, shook off Nigel’s hand, and strutted off to change.

The older Englishman turned to me with an arched brow and an inscrutable look on his face.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. Dunne has a rep-”

I held up a hand,  my face sour.

“He’s not the first to challenge me. It’s fine.”

Nigel looked unimpressed and his stare was almost enough to make me fidget. I felt like an ant under his eyes and I knew he didn’t believe me one bit. There was still some fresh meat lingering in the makeshift meeting room, so I couldn’t let on that the encounter and really, the mere presence of Pete Dunne had left me rattled and strangely invigorated. Nigel studied me a minute more before herding the stragglers out of the locker room, leaving me alone with my coffee and my thoughts.

The rest of the day, and indeed the next two weeks, passed by like a whirlwind. William Regal and Hunter Hearst Helmsley arrived that first day roughly two and a half hours after that initial confrontation with Dunne. The coffee had kicked in and I was on my game. Offices were set up, schedules were put out, and the backstage hands, though new to me, were running like a well oiled machine. Once Regal and Mr. Helmsley had entered the building, it felt like we were in Florida, not chilly Lancashire.

Everything had its place. Everything had its order.

We’d do a daily inspection around the facility, daily tests of the electrical and sound systems, and daily meetings with marketing and production. It was after those meetings that we’d meet the talent out in the ring, where they were running drills and sparring.

Dunne would always search for my eyes and give a little smirk when our eyes met.

I’d notice a pattern start to emerge, starting with that first day.

He’d do things to catch my attention.

He’d run the ropes harder and faster than the others if I was nearby. He’d lift heavier and spar more viciously with his partners in the ring if I was watching. Trent Seven had nearly had his head taken off with a particularly nasty lariat when I had spoken with Finn and Finn’s protégé of sorts, Jordan Devlin, too long for Dunne to tolerate.

It wasn’t just during training either.

He’d learned my routine and had made sure to be around when there were scarcely any other bodies. He’d pick little fights, about how I conducted business, about the other competitors in the tournament. Dunne would get just close enough to whisper or growl things into my ears that made me give just the barest of shivers. He’d smirk at my reaction, satisfied that he’d gotten to me.

I couldn’t let that stand. I wasn’t about to be felled by a cocky little shit that didn’t know his place.

The first time I had palmed his ass, he’d damn near jumped out of his skin. The sixteen wrestlers had been packed into one of the many makeshift conference rooms, for William Regal to speak to them about expectations for the tournament. Pete had been at the back of the crowd, his arms crossed across his chest, and paying full attention to my boss. It had been easy to come up next to him and sneak a squeeze across what I found was a firm cheek.

He’d turned and stared at me with something akin to wonder on his face before a mischievous grin broke out across his face.

Pete and I then began a very… curious game of cat and mouse, where we would do pretty much anything to rattle the other. I wasn’t positive on who was the cat and who was the mouse. Maybe we played both roles. What I did know, was there was this palpable tension between us. I didn’t know where it came from or when it had ratcheted up to unbearable levels, but something was going to give soon.

There will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

I’d spent a solid twenty minutes tracking this son of a bitch down across the theater. Regal was in a mood and had spent a ten minutes following Dunne’s attack on Sam Gradwell verbally tanning my hide. He had later apologized for taking it out on me, but shit rolls down hill. Finn had seen me storm out of the office I shared with Regal and had tried to cool me down, to no effect.

FInn was too intuitive and good at reading me. He knew  I was going to go attempt to collect a pound of flesh from Pete Dunne and after trying to cool me down, made no further attempts to stop me. Finn knew I would need this. I hadn’t been scolded by Regal like that, for something I was not responsible for, ever. The humiliation of being shouted at had screamed through my veins and I wanted, no, needed to take it out on Pete.

Pete turned around, with a smug look on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about love.”

I snorted derisively, and wasted no time crowding into his face, like I wasn’t significantly smaller than him, even with my customary sky high heels on.

“You know damn fucking well what I’m talking about Dunne. I have spent too much time, too much effort for you to fuck this up.”

His entire face brightened at my anger, but his eyes darkened with something that would have normally made my insides shudder if I were not so blindly livid.

“Don’t know why you’re havin’ a go at me, I’m just taking your advice. Make an impression by any means, right? At least that’s what I remember a bird that looks a hell of a lot like you saying.”

He was practically laughing at me, throwing words I had spoken a week before into my face. It felt like someone had poured lava directly into my veins and my sight had tinted red. I don’t know why I did what I did next. Maybe it was the toxic cocktail of my embarrassment, anger, and the attraction I refused to admit to the man in front of me.

I slapped him.

Pete’s head snapped to the right and he froze. The palm of my hand stung something fierce and the temperature of the room we were in ratcheted up about ten degrees.

“You’re a fucking idiot Pete. You’ll be lucky if they don’t disqualify you from the tourn-”

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to get into Pete’s face shortly after my boss had a go at him. I was in the middle of verbally dressing him down when he grabbed the sides of my face, fingers curling into my hair, and slammed his lips against mine. I lost my balance on my heels and fell into him, gasping. I could feel him smirk before he took advantage of my parted lips, swiping his tongue against mine. The anger that had heated the blood in my veins shifted to lust so quickly that I was left dizzy. It took a moment to recover from the sudden shift in passions, but soon enough I was kissing him back just as violently.

There was nothing gentle or soft about our embrace. Our teeth had clicked together painfully and my hands gripped the straps of his singlet tightly. His fingers were beginning to grip my hair in the most painfully pleasurable way and the tiniest of moans escaped my throat.

It felt like time had sped up because I couldn’t tell you how I ended up pinned against the wall and Pete’s body, with my pencil skirt pushed up to my waist and a thick thigh pressed against my now uncomfortably wet panties.

“Been wanting to fuckin’ do this since the first fuckin’ day…” He muttered against my lips, his thigh rubbing in the most delicious way against my core. I shuddered and my hips began to move of their own accord against his thigh. He began to press rough kisses and bites along my jaw line and neck and I was helpless to my body’s response to crane upwards into his touch. It was with one particularly hard bite that I let out an embarrassingly loud mewl.

“God if I’d known you were this fuckin’ desperate for cock, I would have done this so much sooner.”

Two could play this game.

Faster than he could react, I’d tugged a fistful of his dirty blonde hair and with the other hand, cupped the sizeable bulge that was most definitely not hidden by the spandex singlet. His hips stuttered against mine at the pinpricks of pain in his scalp and the sudden touch against his length.

“You talk a lot of shit Dunne. Can you back it up?”

His nostrils flared at my lusty challenge and a crooked grin swept across his face. He looked like a devil and damned if that didn’t do things for me.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

He’d stepped away for just a moment to push his ring gear down and I took the opportunity to step out of my black lace panties. I moved to step out of my heels, but I was stopped by his gruff words.

“Leave those on.”

His body was soon back up against mine, his velvety cock pressed up against my abdomen, as he pressed a thick finger between my folds. The insistent press of his finger against my wetness made me gasp and squirm.

The grin on his face could only be described as predatory at the amount of slickness that coated his finger as removed the finger from me. I was enraptured as he put that same finger into his mouth to lewdly lick off the liquid there. His eyes were dark as he grabbed my left leg and hoisted it up across his hip.

I felt the blunt head of his cock pushing into me and my head fell back against the wall at the sensation. The Englishman let out a muttered curse, before snapping his hips and driving the entirety of his length into me. My lips parted into a silent scream at the sudden intrusion and Pete muffled his own groan by biting hard into the juncture where my neck met my shoulder.

There was just a moment for my body to attempt to adjust to Pete’s girth, before he set out on a punishing pace. I was left balancing on one leg, pressed between a wall and his driving hips. The angle we were at had his pelvis pressing against the taught bundle of nerves just above where we were joined at every press of his hips.

The room was filled with the sounds of our coupling. My gasps and moans were intermingled with the slaps of skin together and his mumbled curses.

“You fit me so perfectly Jesus…”

There was no way I was going to last long, given the relentless pace he had set and the way my insides quivered at every thrust and grind of his hips.

“Oh fuck Pete, right there. I’m about - ”

He’d reached underneath my dress shirt and bra with his free hand to roughly roll a nipple between his fingers while his hips picked up speed at my desperate words. His hips picked up speed and then there it was.

My vision went white and I shuddered around him. My blood was singing and my head was fuzzy and I’m sure I was babbling what passed as encouragement.

His thrusts became sloppy not long after, and then I felt a rush of liquid as ropes of his cum filled me.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.”

The night was spent with minimal sleep. I had woken up the next morning to Pete wrapped tightly around me, my body pleasantly sore and covered in a disturbing amount of love bites. The man slept like the dead, so I was able to sneak my way out of his embrace. I quickly dressed to head back to my hotel room for a quick shower and to strategize how to cover the perfect bite impressions on my neck. I took a fond look back at Pete’s slumbering form, before exiting the hotel room.

But not before making sure to leave my black lacy panties hanging from the hotel room door knob.

I could feel Pete’s eyes on me as I was working to get the night’s show set up. There was no time for us to talk between matches. I didn’t get to express my disapproval after Pete attacked Tyler Bate after the latter’s match with Wulfgang.

I didn’t even get to tell him good luck before his match with the young Tyler Bate.

The match had me on the edge of my seat and it was impossible to tell who was going to win.

It was an even exchange, even if Pete’s opponent was hurt.

Pete hit the Bitter End I could have sworn that was it. Pete was the new UK champion.

But Tyler had kicked out.

It was another moment or two of back and forth, then Tyler did it.

The younger wrestler hit the Tyler Driver ‘97.

One.

No, no, no.

Two.

Damn it Pete, kick out.

Three.

Oh fuck. This wasn’t going to be good.

So don’t fight me now cause you might need me later