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thlayli-ra · 1 month ago

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The Spider and the Fly

Characters - John Cena, CM Punk

Pairing - John Cena/CM Punk

AU - Winner's Room AU

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - Winner's Room, blood, concussion, choking, rape/non-con, dubcon, Heel!Cena

Words - ~3k words

Summary - Cena claims his Winner's Rights from Punk... and sends a message!

Wanted to get this out before Raw tonight will probably ruin it 😅

For @stripeydani , @d-lanx , @selamat-linting and @are-we-really-doing-this and all the other Punkena shippers out there. Umm but.... I'M REALLY, REALLY SORRY ABOUT THIS!!!! FORGIVE ME FOR I HAVE SINNED!!!!

*** Please note the tags! You have been warned!***

He found Punk in his private locker room, sitting slouched on the far bench with his head in his hands. As soon as he noticed John enter however he slowly straightened up, swiping his hand back over his hair. Cena noted the subtle curl on Punk's lips, the slight softening of his red, puffy eyes, like he had been expecting him. Or hoping he would.

'Hey,' Punk said and a heavy silence hung between them, a membrane as fragile as a bubble, one finger poke away from popping. Punk moved first, the tattooed man getting to his feet with a groan as his aching bones creaked and hobbled towards him. John tensed, readying himself for a confrontation. Instead he was offered a single taped hand. 'Congratulations... Winner.'

Winner! The word sounded strange on Cena's tongue, like a bitter pill he had trouble swallowing. Not that he was unaccustomed to winning; he had enjoyed the lion's share of victories throughout his storied career and was a sure-fire entrant for the Hall of Fame one day.

No, the issue was that he'd won... against Punk!

For over a decade now, Punk had been his banana-peel opponent. The last time he'd defeated him on a Premium Live Event was back when they were still called Pay-Per-Views. Elimination Chamber 2011 to be exact when, just like tonight, he'd eliminated Punk last to become the overall winner. After that, they'd wrestled five times on major events yet Punk had emerged victorious each and every time. He had John's number, could see every one of his Five Moves of Doom coming and counter them effortlessly. No matter what John did, Punk had a knack of running rings around him, all while wearing that unbearably smug grin on his pierced lips.

But things were different now. They were older, slower, balding and greying and that lip ring was now a sad distant memory. But that wasn't all.

Cena stared down at the open palm, thinking back to that moment in the ring when he had extended the same olive branch to Punk, remembering the way the younger man had shook his head, hushed out a 'no', then embraced him in a hug. Now, with the roles reversed, the message was still the same. 'No,' John said at last then rushed forward and wrapped Punk up in a hug of his own. The tattooed man sighed contently, sinking into his Winner's arms he pressed his face against Cena's shoulder.

They lingered there, wrapped up in in each other's warmth, the rest of the world melting away until there was only him and Punk, only them, only this moment. Whatever else existed beyond that door ceased to matter.

'I'm sorry.'

Another echo from the chamber. Punk didn't so much as flinch. 'Don't be,' he said, 'I missed you.'

The ghosts were surrounding them, both men haunted by what had transpired before, but then, hadn't it always been this way? Punk and Cena. Cena and Punk Their legacies entangled, tethered together with unbreakable chains. 'I missed you too,' Cena replied and went to lift Punk's chin with his hand-

But it only broke the spell, the younger man blinking back to reality when he caught sight of red smears marring John's fingers. 'You're bleeding!' Punk exclaimed and in that moment it reverted back to what it used to be. Punk taking charge. 'Sit down. I'll fix you up.'

Cena smiled, enjoying the welcome taste of familiarity. They'd always had this kind of dynamic between them with Punk opting to be the one handling the reigns. Everybody believed Punk was a sub, and for the most part they were right; he got off on being dominated and beaten down. They all witnessed how sweetly the tattooed man writhed with pain, the way he would open his legs as he lay face-down on the mat, suffering beautifully as blood poured down his twisted features.

But how easily they forgot that other side of CM Punk. The one that liked to dangle a hapless victim on the end of a string then twitch his little finger to make them dance. His theme music was 'Cult of Personality' for a good reason; he liked to take poor, broken souls under his charred wings and mould them into his latest devotees. People went insane for Punk - look at Drew, look at Seth - whether they wanted to or not and very few were ever aware of the demon's curse until it had already devoured them whole.

That included Cena. Their first match together, when John had tried to call the plays and Punk had scoffed before putting John in his place quicker than a whipped dog, had changed something in the older man's brain chemistry. Before, he thought Punk was a scraggly misfit, petulant and difficult but after that match, he rapidly became one of John's favourite opponents. He liked Punk being in charge, he liked being able to switch his brain off and let himself be lead for once.

'I said 'sit'.'

John obeyed and took a seat on the bench while Punk grabbed up a towel and headed through to the showers. Left alone for a brief spell, John felt the mask slip from his face. His lips stiffened, his eyes darkened, losing that sparkle of innocence they once held. Yes, things were different now. This time when Punk came to gleefully gnaw on John's soul like a chew toy, the way he always did, he would find nothing there but a festering hole.

'What am I gonna do with you, John-Boy?' Cena swiftly put the mask back on, smiling sweetly at the tattooed man as he wrung the excess water from the towel in the doorway of the shower room. 'Didn't even think I was that rough with you this time.' Punk look up and returned the soft smile, a cheeky light dancing in his gentle hazel eyes.

'You weren't,' John replied, his voice sounding gruff and course in the peace of the locker room. He cleared his throat to sand off the rot. 'Trust me.'

'I do,' Punk said, setting off an invisible spark in the older man's chest, exciting him, 'but if I was man-handling you like you say, then how the hell did you get the pin on me?'

Pin? He hadn't won by pinfall. How did Punk not know that...

Cena thought back to the closing moments of the Chamber. The stomp from Rollins had been brutal, smashing Punk's skull right into the thinly padded steel on the outside of the ring. The worst part was that the tattooed man didn't even see it coming and didn't have a chance to protect himself as his brow collided hard. Now, scanning his eyes over the other man, Cena noting the large welt bruising Punk's forehead, the way he leaned too heavily on the doorframe for support, how sluggish and clumsy every one of movements were.

And in that moment, a wonderful realisation broke on him like a radiant dawn. Punk was concussed, his brain entirely scrambled. He couldn't even remember the end of the match!

'I guess I just wanted it more,' Cena said. Careful there, John. Don't give the game away just yet.

Punk snorted with derision as he stumbled closer. 'Not a chance,' he rebutted, 'I wanted that win more than anybody else in that cage.'

Oh Punk, you're really not that naive, are you? To think that just because you were the only one (that mattered) in the Chamber who's never main-evented Wrestlemania that you were the only one who cared? Punk moved in close to grab up Cena's soiled hand and rub it clean with the damp towel. John watched him, his gaze locked tight as a sniper's rifle. Punk's hazels flicked up briefly, caught him staring and paused, their faces inches from each other.

John's fingers found Punk's dishevelled hair, his hand gliding through the sweaty strands until it clasped the back of his head and pulled him in. Their lips found one another, both men opening wide to welcome their dear friend in. Punk's mouth was warm and moist albeit empty without the tongue bar and even though he'd stopped chewing gum in the ring, it still tasted as sweet as cherry pie, the rich red tang bursting with juices beneath its buttery outer layer.

While they kissed, Cena artfully closed his powerful thighs around Punk's slender waist, locking him in. The Venus flytrap closing its mighty jaws around the fly after luring it in with its nectar.

You wouldn't know, Punk. You wouldn't know because you've never tasted it but closing the Showcase of the Immortals once, twice, five times? It was never enough. It's an urge, a need, a hook that fastens itself deep into a person's lip and hauls them in, much like what I'm doing to you right now.

His other hand trailed down Punk's back, feeling each droplet of sweat catching in the folds of his skin, until it came to rest at his hip, delicately teasing the waistband of his trunks.

Punk pulled away from the kiss abruptly. 'Cool your jets, John-Boy,' he scolded the older man in his best commanding tone, the one that once turned Cena's insides to putty. 'First, we deal with the bleeding then we can have fun.'

John watched as Punk grasped his hand again to wipe the last of the blood off, his expression unchanging, a being made of granite, grey and cold. He had grown tired. Tired of the posturing and the constant need to pander to the masses. His whole career he'd been a victim to the whims of the crowd. They loved him, they hated him. If Cena won, they rioted. He was a boring do-gooder who couldn't wrestle and buried other talent. Then, in that Chamber, when he and Punk had finally come face-to-face, they started to chant.

Let's go Cena! CM Punk!

Memories came flooding back. To times when he was despised by anybody over the age of ten, to when he was seen as a corporate stooge selling out. To when they all put their adoration on a skinny runt from the indies with slicked back hair and a Pepsi tattoo. Punk was a damn dirty heel back then and they revered him, raised him to become the biggest babyface in the company overnight to where he even began outselling Cena's merchandise. He understood why, he'd been there and heard the Pipebomb live, the words spilling from pierced lips like venom. He could see the appeal of CM Punk - the rage, the fire, the danger. It had sucked him in just as easily.

The hand stroking back and forth along Punk's waistband refused to relent until it needed to do more than tease. Without warning, John pushed his hand inside, under the trunks, under the speedo, to grab his trophy between his legs. Punk let out a loud yelp and froze. The fly now paralysed by the spider's bite, ready to be bound up tight and devoured.

'Fuck John, I told you to wait until I'd finished.'

'Then finish,' John rolled his fist along Punk's already semi-hard dick, lavishing in the whimpers it drew from the tattooed man.

'Fine.' Punk grit his teeth, fighting against the sensations wracking his senses. Fighting his basic desires. Fighting. Just like out in that Chamber when he'd kicked out from a Pedigree, kicked out from a Stomp, kicked out from an AA. Again and again. Always fighting.

Never give up, right?

John watched the lines in Punk's face crinkle with every sloping pull of his large hand, spied the crow's feet deepen as his eyes lazily blinked, getting hazy with lust. Just a little more...

Punk wiped the last of the blood, then examined John's hand. Knotting his brow he turned it over, inspecting the back. 'I can't find it,' he said, and John let the sickness take hold, the darkness creeping into his features. 'John, where's your wound?'

Cena smiled. Not that poster boy, all-American smile that made the girls swoon and the kids cheer. Not the cute, dimply smiles he often shared behind closed doors with Punk whenever they found themselves in each other's company. No, he sneered, like a python that finally had its coils wrapped taut around its prey.

'It wasn't my blood,' he said.

The knot deepened. Punk trying to solve the conundrum after only hearing half the riddle. 'Then... who's was it?'

Cena just stared back, quirking his brows.

'John?' He tried that commanding voice again, utterly oblivious to the switch happening between them, how their roles were rapidly reversing. 'Who's blood was it?' Cena refused to answer beyond his vicious sneer. Watching as it all clicked into place in the other man's foggy mind. '...Cody? What did you-? CODY!'

Punk tried to get away but John's legs were locked tight around him like a snare, tightening the more the rabbit struggled. The hand that was only moments ago being tended to so gently by the tattooed man now grabbed him by the throat. Using his superhuman strength, Cena spun Punk around, sending his spine crashing hard into the wall. Punk struggled, beating his fists against the arms that held him. Always fighting. But the more he writhed like an insect stuck on flypaper, the more he became trapped, Cena squashing him tight into the small recess.

'It's too late, Punk,' John informed his prize with a face now devoid of human emotion.

'GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!'

'Stop yelling.'

'FUCK YOU!'

'Fine. I know exactly how to shut little punks up.' The fingers on Punk's throat pressed tighter, pushing into his windpipe. The shouting stopped instantly as Punk's face began to turn a deep pink. Their gazes met and Cena admired the way Punk's red-rimmed, tear-bitten eyes struggled to focus on him. His head injury raging inside his skull. Would he remember this moment too?

He'd make damn sure of it!

It was too easy to rip Punks' flimsy little trunks down, freeing his rock-solid cock. John suppressed a chuckle at the sight as he unbuckled his belt and jorts with his free hand and let them fall to his ankles. 'Sit,' he ordered the younger man, shoving him down by the grip at his neck until he was slouched against the bench, his erect cock standing like a flagpole. Never once releasing his grip on his trophy's throat, Cena mounted him, pushing himself down onto Punk's dick until it broke through his ring of muscle. Punk grimaced, his inked fingers weakly digging into Cena's wrist as he brutally ground his hips down onto him, forcing him further and further in until he was buried deep.

'You surprised?' Cena taunted his prize, who squinted up at him pleadingly, trying to gasp in air. 'This is always how we do it, right?'

John started to bounce, feeling Punk's cockhead rub up and down his passage. And every so often while he rode his trophy, he squeezed Punk's neck a little tighter. See, the problem with the STF is that his opponent was always facing away so he never got to see their expression as he applied the pressure and in the Chamber, when Punk was being cruelly crushed beneath Cena's weight, his little porcelain body going limp as he passed out, the sensation had felt so delicious that Cena wished with all his heart he could see the life fade from Punk's eyes himself.

Now here, in his Winner's Room, he got his opportunity. His eyes never once leaving Punk's face. Watching as his eyebrows steepled up pleadingly, meeting in the middle like two hands touching in prayer. His eyelids drooped over his glassy hazels while his mouth hung open. Cena hooked his finger in, dragging it across his slack lower lip.

Yes, things had changed and this was how it was meant to be. With Cena on top, the king on his throne and everybody else firmly beneath him. He'd understood the moment he'd witnessed Punk, dazed from Seth's vicious final stomp, hanging limply, half-suspended by the bottom rope with his ass up, begging to be bred like a prize bitch in heat. He had relented to this little slut for too long and it was time to finally stamp his authority on him like a brand.

He punctuated that sentiment with another savage drive onto Punk's cock. His trophy was failing now, going under, so Cena grabbed his own throbbing cock and pumped it urgently, pushing himself over the edge. He came with a grunt, soiling his trophy's stomach and thighs with his red hot cum. After catching his breath for a moment, he stood up, yanking himself free of Punk's dick. It flopped, his erection wilting like a flower in the frost.

Then finally, Cena released the hold on his neck. Punk fell, collapsing to the floor at John's feet. The older man admired the view as he pulled his pants back up and buckled them securely. Once dressed, he nudged the lifeless corpse at his feet with his toe, laughing as he placed his sneaker against Punk's head and shoved it into the dirt, just like he had done with Cody only moments before.

'Well Punk,' he spoke aloud, his voice booming against the eerie quiet of the locker room, 'while you lay there, hopefully as uncomfortable as you can possibly be, I want you to listen to me.' He bent down low, closer to Punk's ear. 'I don't hate you Punk. I don't even dislike you. I like you a hell of a lot more than I like most people in the back. I just hate this idea that you're the Best in the World.'

Grabbing a fistful of hair, he lifted Punk's heavy head off the floor, watching as a line of drool ran from his lips to the tiles below.

'Because you're not. I'm the best!'

He let go, heard the crunch of Punk's face hitting the ground then stood up. Grabbing one of Punk's towels he wiped himself clean as he left the carnage behind in his wake.

'And I'm gonna remind each and every one of you.'

#Thlayli-writes #cm punk #john cena #punkena #winner's room au #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fan fiction #cw noncon #cw dubcon #cw choking #cw blood

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jinxedshapeshifter · 3 months ago

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I don't even need to know Eustace's backstory to get the vibe that his behavior is a result of trauma tbh. Like I DO know what his dad is like, and I'm sure Excelsius will move up a few spots on the "I want to throw them into the Thames" list when I finish Prosecutor’s Gambit, but I cannot help but notice Eustace asks for Gavèlle's reassurance a lot. It's making me really sad honestly. Like this poor kid acts SO confident but seeks reassurance too much for his confidence to be completely genuine. Eustace deserves a hug

#ace attorney #jinx plays aai #ace attorney investigations #aai #aai2 #ace attorney prosecutors gambit #aai2 spoilers #eustace winner #i feel like a therapist every time i post something like this lol. alas i am just a nerd who finds analyzing fictional characters fun #actually though this makes the fact that everyone finds him annoying really sad #like if im right and his behavior is a response to trauma. that trauma response is making it harder for him to make connections #i NEED TO HUG HIM.

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drewharrisonwriter · 1 year ago

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Well-deserved!!!

Congratulations to our daddy/Papi/bbgurl 🤍🎉🥳😍 Have y'all seen his speech? It had me bawling and bursting into laughter. Such a beautiful chaotic man.

#pedro pascal #pedropascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #joel miller #pedro pascal fan fiction #Pedro Pascal Best Actor #sag aftra #SAG Awards #Best Actor #Best Actor Winner

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slightlydraconic · 3 months ago

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I'm very excited to start @batmanisagatewaydrug's 2025 book bingo! This is such a fun variety of categories. I haven't decided what I'll read for most of the spaces yet, but I have a few ideas to start:

Reread a Childhood Favorite: Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke was my absolute jam as a kid and I've been meaning to revisit it for awhile.

Sequel: Recently learned that Dragon Rider has a sequel, The Griffin's Feather, which I've never read! Amazing!

Published Before 1950: I've never actually read all of Dracula by Bram Stoker, and I really want to this year.

Bookseller or Librarian Rec.: One of my friends is a librarian, and in the past he has highly recommended The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, which intrigues me.

I'll be looking for more titles to fit the other categories, and am definitely taking recommendations if anyone has them!

#so sad that the bad sex in fiction award was cancelled a few years ago #that would have been an amazing 2024 award winner pick #fantasy will probably be a Robin Hobb book #oh yeah the rules under the book sheet are just for me personally to remember. i know they're not official

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feketeribizli · 3 months ago

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WAIT super important marci question i just thought of. when was his first podium? first gp win? has he had any of those already? (thinking about 2024 aston performance....no.....but it can't hurt to ask lmao)

LMAOOO bro still dreaming... bro got a handful of points to his name at best... 😔 love that for realism reasons i have two teams to pray for to have a decent fucking car this season

data could still change but i was thinking his first race was spain (which would mean i killed lance off at his own home race babygirl please forgive me) so that makes his second race (austria) be his first points race (another benefitter of the norstappen attempted murder). might rewatch those last handful of races and make up stats for him...

marci when he gets promoted to f1 but the team is in shambles the team is shite

#in the beginning i was gonna make a multiply race winner guy but i was like. nah thats not. eeeeh #love keeping it realistic 🫡#if aston gets better this season (PAWPAW PODIUM PLEASSSEEEEEE ID KILL FOR THAT...) i might make up smth for him. we shall see #fictional hun f1 driver cant fade into irrelevancy without at least one podium 🙏🙏🙏#ask #marci #f1 oc #this is the ocs tag

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pharawee · 10 months ago

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Tag Game - Poll: 5 Fav Characters

Challenge: Make a poll with five six of your all time favourite characters, and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

I was tagged by @pickletrip (thaaaank you! 💜) so I decided to do it again, only this time with my favourite thirdwheelers/pathetic little meow meows (many thanks to @zhouxiangs for reminding me that I made a grave mistake by not including Wahl in the last poll).

For your consideration:

Tagging another five six people because this tag game is fun as heck: @tortibomb @markmybirds @befuddledcinnamonroll @leonpob @singto-prachaya @scarefox (only if you want to of course 💜)

#tag game #poll #making the poll 1 week this time bc 1 day feels too short #honourary mentions go to sol (my stand in) and guy (bake me please) and saint (Our Days) and nont (Love Area)#if i included sol he'd win #he's too perf #i smuggled in two winners bc i could #but the fictional winner is so pathetic the only thirdwheeling he does is on the racetrack #i know this and i love him #winner of my heart #also why do i have so few gifs of wahl what is wrong with me #also also i feel like winnerjumper would work beautifully together #and by beautiful i mean it'd be a whole basketball court full of squeaking clown shoes

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lezarus · 9 months ago

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i cant be a multishipper. trust me ive tried. fundamentally my brain is wired in a way where if i like a character a lot i need them to beat the ass of anyone else who’s interested in their partner emotional and/or physically. i need them to WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!

#this is why i cant do poly couples in fiction either like ok but whos the winner

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luvinaeverdene · 2 months ago

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The Shape of Water (2017)

Directed by Guillermo del Toro

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heroictoonz · 2 months ago

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Broken Reflections [ @feystivus @musashi @pixiestickie ]

Ships: Franziska & Eustace|Sebastian , Franziska/Eustace|Sebastian (can be read platonically or romantically)

Warnings: N/A

AO3 L!nk in Comments!

When Franziska opened the office door she truly was not expecting to see Eustace with his head laid against the desk in what could only be described as pathetic defeat. If she looked closer she could almost make out the wet shine of the wood indicating loose tears had fallen upon it.

She was beginning to regret her choice to come here. She was constantly annoyed by her internal need to care for this fool. Eustace Winner was the sort of person that in any other circumstances Franziska would have very quickly lost her patience with and condemned to hell with a fiery flick of her whip. And where she had most definitely given the younger prosecutor a few lashes Franziska still found herself coming back to his side.

She wondered some days if maybe it was due to that case in the past. Franziska had seen every emotion under the sun in his eyes when he stood up before his father. Ranging from fear and sorrow to determination and justice. She wondered if she were in his position, if she too had been given such an opportunity to stand before her father after the reveal of his crimes, if she too would hold a similar look in her eyes.

Maybe that was why she never left the foolish fool to his own pathetic devices.

When Eustace lifted his head to look up at her she realized pathetic was truly an understatement.

His face was red and wet with tears and snot, lip quivering in the most disgusting manner. He rubbed his sleeve against his face and tried to sigh himself into a calmer disposition.

“M-Miss Von Karma,” he whimpered out. “I didn’t hear you come in. Did you need—”

“What is wrong with you?” she hissed out. She tried to keep back as much venom from her words as she could but seeing him reduced to such a state brought that familiar burning fire to her fingertips. The fact that he didn’t have that only infuriated her more.

“Oh… um…” he muttered and mumbled nothings as he averted his gaze to anywhere that wasn’t the monolith of prosecution before him. But she didn’t let him avoid her for long.

Franziska walked closer and stood before the desk. She threw her hands against the wood with duel, loud, SLAPs. The sudden sound grabbed Eustace's eyes back to hers where she made sure to lock them in place. “You lost.”

He cowered back into his seat with another pathetic quiver of his lip. “I-I… um…”

“Do you understand why you lost?”

His obnoxious stammering finally subsided to silence at her question. He was clearly grasping internally for whatever he believed Franziska wanted to hear that would save him from her wrath. Instead he was left opening and closing his mouth like a fish on land, begging for the water to bring it oxygen.

Franziska decided she would be merciful and be the water for once. She stood up straighter and kept her gaze locked in with his own. “It is because the defendant was innocent.”

“Wh-what?” he chirped with a raised brow and a sniffle.

“Get up,” Franziska suddenly hissed out at him. She didn’t even give him time to process her words before she turned on her own heel and started towards the office door. “Follow me.”

She could hear him tripping over himself and everything in the room as he stumbled after her. The door shut behind them after she was already halfway down the hall. She led him into a room of filed away court records. She knew exactly which one she wanted to find. The transcripts still sent chills down her own spine when she read it over. A disbelief that she’d never felt in her blood settled in when she’d first realized what had happened that day.

It didn’t take her long to rummage through the cases and pull the file out, handing it over to Eustace.

“What… what is this?”

“The fool speaks in full foolish sentences,” she mumbled with her arms crossed. “That is an old case from a few years ago. I had worked as its prosecutor until I was injured and Miles Edgeworth took over.”

As she spoke Eustace flipped through the files, reading the pages of evidence and court proceedings. He frowned down at one of the pages. “This is the man Mr. Edgeworth speaks highly of isn’t it? He was the defense?”

Franziska nodded. “He was. When I came to America I had dedicated myself to ripping that fool to shreds. I wanted vengeance to be bloody and humiliating for him. Public and under the eyes of the court.”

“Vengeance?” Eustace questioned.

“It was misguided,” she admitted. Her eyes fluttering over the mountains of lettered and organized boxes. Boxes that she had let herself be filed away in along with her father, her brother, and everyone she’d ever known. “I had taken him as a rival with the sole purpose of defeating him in a feat of perfect prosecution.”

Eustace frowned next to her. Defeat evident in his expression.

“I lost to him. Multiple times.” She let the sigh flutter within her chest a bit before it silently left her lips. “When he was finally defeated in court it wasn’t even by me. It was before Miles Edgeworth. And even then… I’d never seen a defense attorney smile with so much joy after losing.”

“He smiled?”

“Damn near cheered into the heavens like he had found the cosmic secrets of life and the universe.” The image of his expression was burned into her mind like a scar. His face turned up towards the sun as the confetti of his defeat fell around him. Haloing him in the rainbow of his loss. He smiled wide and a deep laugh full of relief and heart fell from his lips at the same time a single tear had from his eye. He’d never looked so exhausted and drained, yet so full of life and hope in the entire time Franziska had known him back then. It cut into her that day like a blade against her throat. It cut through her like a bullet through skin.

“Every time you lose,” she started again, turning to look at Eustace. “You foolishly run and hide in your foolish office to cry.”

He frowned up at her like a kicked puppy. But she did not let up. These words were needed. She knew they were.

“Prosecution is not a science of perfection,” as true as her words were she still felt the need to bite her lip as she spoke them. But she kept her teeth at bay. She reminded herself what she was in the moment; water to a drying fish, fire to a dying candle. “It is one side of Lady Justice’s scale. But both sides must be together to have perfect balance.” She turned to fully face him with her body. “You will lose as much as you will win. Your success must be focused in the pursuit of truth and justice not in the defeat of some foolishly arbitrary rivalry.”

Eustace’s eyes left her gaze for the first time only for his hand to follow and land on her own. She hadn’t even realized she’d gripped her shoulder in such a vice. It was a nasty habit she’d tried often to drop. She let go of her own arm and let Eustace pull her hand down between them.

“Stop crying like a foolish child.”

His eyes stayed on their hands.

“You will never move past him if you keep his foolish words in your mind.”

A tear fell down his cheek. He was quick to pull up his free hand to his eyes. When another tear fell he dropped her hand to push a second fist to his face. He was silent as his shoulders shook.

She grabbed his hands and ripped them away from his face. She once again took hold of his gaze in her own. Forcing him to show her his tears as he continued to sob in choked silence.

“If you do cry, at least have the gaul to show the world. Do not cry for some foolish reason.” Her grip tightened. “Do not cry because you lost. If you cry it better be in relief that an innocent man was not foolishly punished for the sins of another. We are not to make a second coming of Jesus Christ in these sacred halls. Do you understand me?!”

Eustace didn’t respond with words. Instead, he let out a wail of anguish. His sobs finally forcing out sound with their intensity.

Franziska didn’t expect herself to do what she did next. However, she did it with no hesitation. She grabbed Eustace by the arms and pulled him into a hug. As he cried in her arms her mind drifted off to the past. That same trial after the fact in an airport. Miles before her as she sobbed as Eustace was then.

Did he even realize how similar they were? Did Eustace have any idea that when she looked at him it was like looking into a threatening mirror. The reflection was distorted for sure, there were many differences and emotions that they could not understand of each other. But there was still a reflection in their souls that clearly showed the other.

After his wailing sobs had subsided to quiet sniffles she pulled him off and looked down at him. He looked disgusting. “Alright that’s enough. You have already lathered my top with your foolish snot.”

Eustace started to wipe his arm against his eyes to dry them as he handed the court file back to Franziska.

She took it and put it back in its home. She then pushed Eustace towards the exit and locked up behind them. She gently took his arm and started their walk out the prosecutor's building.

The moment they stepped out the door the cold January air hit them both with a bite. It felt good in its own way, Franziska hadn’t realized how hot she’d gotten in the file room. It was pretty stuffy in there at times. The 2020 air was crisp and fresh with new beginnings and freedom.

“You understand what I was trying to get through to you, yes?”

Eustace looked over to her and nodded. “I… yes. I believe so.” He looked down the street at the bustling life that thrived within its habitat. “Can I ask you a question? It’s a bit personal.”

“If I don’t like it I will whip you. Take that chance into your own foolish hands.” She let go of his arm and crossed her arms. When she looked down at him again he had continued to stare off into the distance around them.

“Did you feel lost… after everything with your father, I mean?”

She didn’t whip him. Instead, she took a moment of silence to debate how to answer. She didn’t speak of those days openly with anyone. Not even with Miles, himself. But she decided that the truth would be the best for him. “Yes,” she sighed. “It was not an easy thing, to have everything you ever knew and believed for your whole life ripped from its roots and thrown before your feet. But I grew and continued. You will do the same, I’m sure.”

He finally looked at her again. “Could I sit in on one of your trials one day? I would… like to see how you conduct them.”

Franziska gave a proud smile. “Of course. Who better to show you the perfection of prosecution at its finest than a von Karma. But for now I would like to actually eat something,” she said with annoyance as she realized just how late in the day it had become. “Come. You will pay.”

She started walking down the sidewalk and smiled as she heard the sound of Eustace’s stuttering and stumbling following after her.

#ace attorney #ace attorney investigations #franziska von karma #sebastian debeste #eustace winner #fan fic #fan fiction #writing #toonz writing

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suzy-queued · 10 months ago

Text

You Are Pure Beside Me as a Sleeping Amber

I love this amazing art by @deedala for this week's @galladrabbles. Congrats on fooling the most people with your art, Deanna!

Previously on No Sleep 'Til Nashville ... Mickey brushed his ex off and finally felt free.

---

I hear Keith stammering behind me. I don’t care what he has to say or what a clusterfuck this’ll be after the dust settles and we return home.

Ian and I shuffle down the sidewalk arm-in-arm.

The pizza ain’t Chicago style, but it tastes amazing. The hotel Ian picks for us ain’t fancy, but the sheets are clean.

We kiss against the wall. He peels off my clothes.

25 hours. 475 miles. One motherfucking Elvis. One round of drowsy sex.

I’m comfortable tangled in Ian’s gangly arms.

We do the thing I’ve been dying to do for an eternity … sleep.

#galladrabbles #galladrabble #no sleep til nashville #100 words #gallavich fan fiction #no129 #gallavich fanart masquerade winner

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thlayli-ra · 6 months ago

Note

Whump Prompt - Shock Collars, Gunther/Cody with references to Randy and background Cody/Randy, please? ❤

I'll give you some puppy eyes of my very own!

(Also I'd definitely owe you another fic in return 👀)

How could I resist (and YES! I'll definitely send another fic prompt your way at some point!) Enjoy! 😙❤️

I'm also tagging @paladinofmoonlight as this will tie in slightly with your request fic.

Trick - 'Shock Collar'

Characters - Cody Rhodes, Randy Orton, Gunther, CM Punk (cameo), Drew McIntyre (cameo), Ludwig Kaiser (mentioned), Giovanni Vinci (mentioned)

Rating - Mature

Warnings - Winner's Room, non-con/extremely dub-con (implied), shock collar, pet play, trauma

(This fic is based in my Winner's Room AU)

The only man that Cody Rhodes avoided in the back was Gunther. And that was because Randy himself told him to.

He could still remember the night after Crown Jewel had wrapped when he'd sat up waiting for Randy, growing more worried with each passing hour until at long last his husband returned. Cody knew something wasn't right the moment Randy shuffled onto the bus, noting how his hoodie was zipped right up to the neck, his head bowed and feet heavy, like they were dragging great iron chains behind him.

'Randy?'

His husband stumbled back with fright, suddenly realising that he was not alone. 'You're here?' he gasped, meaning to say 'awake' - he'd been hoping Cody would be asleep. The blonde rushed to his husband and cupped his face in both hands. Randy flinched at the touch and Cody's alarm spiked when he saw his husband's eyes. He looked... haunted.

'Where have you been?'

Randy turned his face away with shame. 'With Gunther,' he replied.

A stone sank into the pit of Cody's stomach. He knew, of course he knew. It was a PLE night and Randy had lost, of course Gunther would come to collect his winner's rights. Yet even so, hearing it drip like acid from his husband's mouth made it sting all the more.

But something didn't sit right. Usually it wouldn't take this long for a quick fuck or a blow job. A winner would only need maybe half an hour, an hour tops with their prize to reap their rewards. Why had Randy been gone for close to six? 'Tell me what happened?' He was answered with silence, not even a flicker of eye contact. 'Randy? What did he do to you?'

'I'm worn out, he'd replied and Cody's shoulders slumped with defeat. 'I need some rest. We can talk in the morning.'

But they didn't.

Cody thought it best not to pry. Until Bash at Berlin. He'd been as surprised as anybody when Randy had challenged Gunther for another match for the World Heavyweight Championship. In the weeks leading up to the event, he brought up his concerns with his husband.

'What if it ends up like last time?'

'It won't be like last time,' Randy protested as he knotted up the laces of his boots. 'I know what I'm doing.'

'I don't doubt that,' Cody sighed. 'It's just... when you got back, you were so... traumatised and I just can't stand to-'

Randy cut Cody off by slamming the heel of his boot against the bench, the wood colliding with the metal locker door with a great clang. Cody glared up at his husband, who refused to meet his eye. 'It won't be like last time,' Randy said again, except his voice was weaker than before. Fragile, like a whisper on the wind.

To his credit, Randy was right; the match was nothing like the last time. Cody watched it on the monitors in gorilla, cradling the aches and pains in his own body from his match with Kevin Owens, as his husband fought bravely against the Austrian behemoth. Two bulls battering one another in the arena, each taking turns to gore the other, their skin turning red and breaking from the brutal onslaught. Randy managed to disable Gunther's hand, his greatest weapon, then, when he dumped the Champion through the announce desk, a spark of hope shone bright. Cody watched his majestic husband pose to the crowd and began to imagine the gold belt glistening around his waist. The pride and glory of his victory.

But then, back in the ring, right when Randy was poised to deliver an RKO that would end it all, Gunther locked on a sleeper hold, and no matter how the Viper tried to snake his way out of his opponent's clutches, it was not enough. The blood drained from Cody's face as Randy's arm went slack, stopped breathing as the ref lifted up the lifeless limb and let it drop to the mat.

'No...' he shook his head at the screen, his bad knee almost buckling under him as he turned and hobbled towards the curtain. Just as he got there, it was tossed aside and the towering frame of Gunther walked through. He took one ice-cold look at his fellow champion and sniffed, walking past Cody towards the back. Shortly after, the curtain twitched again and this time, a ground down, exhausted Randy shuffled through.

'Randy!' Cody wrapped his arms around his husband, never heeding the sweat and grime of the ring as he held his husband close. Their moment was cut all too short by a shrill whistle and they both turned to find Gunther waiting on his trophy.

'I have to go, Codes,' Randy sighed, his voice breaking as he forcibly prised the blonde off of him.

'NO! No Randy, you can't!' Cody fought back, grabbing at any part of his husband's body and clinging on for dear life. 'Please! Don't go with him! I'm begging you!'

'Cody,' Randy lifted his lover's chin. His fingers were trembling. Cody choked at the sight of his husband's face, the fear and terror in his grey-blue eyes. 'Don't wait up for me this time.'

'Randy, please... no!'

'I have to,' he uttered and softly placed a kiss on Cody's lips. 'I love you.'

Then he left. Left with that monster, who leered at Cody when he wrapped his hand around the small of Randy's back and lead him away. And Cody just had to accept it. Just had to shower and dress and head back to the bus like it was all ok but the dread gnawed at the pit of his stomach and he felt like throwing up and he couldn't eat and he couldn't sleep but Randy told him not to wait up for him so what could he do? He sat on the bed and he tried to read and tried to look at his phone and tried to watch tv but he couldn't focus at all.

At some point in the night, the exhaustion of waiting took over and his eyes fell shut, only to be woken up again some time later to a strange noise coming from the living area of his bus. Shuffling off the bed, Cody limped over to the bedroom door and opened it, hobbling past the bunks and the kitchen area until he found a figure hunched over in a chair, its face hidden behind his huge palms as it wept fitfully.

He said nothing, just placed his arms around Randy's shoulders and held him tight. Once again, Randy flinched at the sudden contact but when he realised there was no danger, he coiled his own large arms around Cody's waist and cried into his chest like a scared little boy.

'I'm so s-sorry, Codes,' he hushed out between sobs. 'I'm s-supposed to be strong-'

'You have nothing to be sorry about,' Cody told his husband sternly, a spark of flame lighting up in his blue eyes. 'It's Gunther who's going to pay for this.'

'Cody!' The blonde was pushed back, Randy grabbing his upper arms in a vice grip. 'Don't you ever go near that bastard, you hear me? You stay the hell away from him. Promise me!'

'Randy, I can't just let him get away with what he did to-?'

'PROMISE ME!'

The once proud warrior's face was wet with tears, his eyes blood-shot and frayed by a thousand and one traumas. He suddenly looked so... small. So vulnerable. The snake had had his venom sapped from his body, his fangs yanked out with rusty pliers.

Cody shook his head from side-to-side sorrowfully. 'Just tell me what he did to you.'

The grey eyes shimmered with fresh tears, Randy's face scrunched up with despair. 'Please Cody,' his voice was hoarse, on the brink of falling apart again, 'please don't make me say it.'

His heart broke in two at that and he couldn't bear to torture his cherished lover any more. 'Ok,' he said and pulled Randy into another bruising hug, one that he hoped chased away the demons. 'You don't have to tell me. And I'll stay away from Gunther. I promise.'

He may not be able to ask The Ring General what had transpired, but there were other ways to skin a cat and one possible lead as to what had happened after Bash in Berlin was the very man that Cody found himself catching up with during Raw the following Monday. CM Punk should have been in high spirits after winning both his match and his bracelet back but he seemed a little on edge around the blonde. Cody's suspicions were confirmed when Punk, pretending to swipe through his phone, softly uttered, 'and how's Randy?'

Cody narrowed his eyes at his friend. 'What do you mean, "how's Randy"?'

Punk looked up, fidgeting in his chair. 'Well he lost his match on Saturday, right?'

The two men eyed one another, Punk feeling the noose tighten around his neck, Cody the one pulling the rope. 'You know something, don't you?'

The veteran cast his eyes down. 'I dunno what you're talking-'

'Punk,' Cody crouched down, not allowing the tattooed man to escape. 'If you know something then tell me. I need to know what happened, I have to know what Gunther did to him.'

The mere sound of Gunther's name sent a visible shudder up Punk's spine and his hazel eyes lost focus, staring away into the middle distance. Just like Randy's had done. 'That's not for me to say,' he replied at last. 'You have to ask Randy about that.'

'I tried but he won't talk to me,' Cody heaved a frustrated sigh, 'and he told me to stay away from Gunther.'

'Good!' Punk shot back. 'He's right! You stay the fuck away from him, Cody, you hear?'

The blonde scrunched up his face. He was getting real sick of hearing this. Like he was some withering flower, some princess in a tower who needed protected. 'You don't understand Punk, you didn't see the way Randy was afterwards. That rat bastard hurt the man I love! How am I meant to ignore that?'

'You have to,' Punk ordered him. 'It's for the best. Anyway...' Punk got to his feet, 'I'm the one gunning for Gunther next. Now that Drew is in my rear-view mirror, I'm gonna go out there and lay down the challenge.'

'And let me guess, did Randy put you up to that?' Cody caught the older man's eye, noting how Punk dragged his tongue along his bottom lip.

'We're only looking out for you, Cody,' he said before heading to gorilla.

Punk was a dead-end but Cody had one more possible lead. If Punk had been hanging around the arena on Saturday night, it was likely with his own winner's trophy. Cody found Drew McIntyre leaving the men's locker room, looking nervous as if he was running late, which was odd because he wasn't dressed for a match. In fact, his attire was a bit strange in general for Drew - blue jeans, walking boots and a black zip hoodie.

Cody called his name and the large Scot paused for a moment, glancing up at him. 'Drew, you got a minute?'

'Make it quick, Rhodes,' Drew warned, twitching impatiently.

'Why? You got somewhere you need to be?'

The Scotsman didn't appreciate being interrogated. 'Spit. It. Out.'

'Fine,' Cody didn't see any point in angering the already cantankerous Scot. 'I need to know what happened after Bash in Berlin.'

The blue eyes flashed, growing large for a split-second, betraying the startle at the mention of the PLE's name. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared again and Drew pulled his lips back, baring his teeth.

'Out of my fucking way,' he snarled, shoving Cody aside, and that was that. He had exhausted all of his leads and was no further forward in finding out what had happened to Randy. Slumping back against the wall, Cody bumped the back of his head against the hard brick and tried to fight down the disappointment.

There was one last witness he could try, one final lead. He knew for certain that Gunther would be there here tonight.

But he couldn't do that to Randy, not after seeing the fear in his eyes. He couldn't add to his pain. He had made a promise and he was going to stick to it.

However, in this business, promises are so frequently broken.

With Punk on the shelf after Drew's ambush at Raw and their subsequent Hell in a Cell match, Gunther was in need of a new opponent so Hunter made the announcement at Bad Blood, that Cody would be facing him at Crown Jewel. Randy went ballistic, but no amount of yelling and debating would change the trajectory. With a heavy heart, Cody was forced to break his promise to his husband.

And come the day of the PLE, he would discover the horrors that Randy had faced first-hand.

The only thought that ran through the blonde's head as he lay on his back staring up at the bright lights above was of his husband kissing him before the match, holding him tight. 'Win, you hear me,' he'd said, unable to hide the croak in his voice. 'You must win!'

Cody had fought hard. Had given the Austrian as good as he got. But Gunther was bigger, stronger and more sadistic. He had worn the blonde down to the ground and still kept on kicking. Cody was certain he had a cracked rib or two from the vicious chops, every breath he dragged in stung like a knife plunging into his chest. He was only vaguely aware of the ref's hand smacking the canvas for the one, two, three, hardly noticed the victor get to his feet to have his arm raised.

It was only when the boards swayed beneath him as two chunky knees crashed down beside him and a fat finger tenderly trace a line of sweat down his brow and cheek that the implications of his loss hit him.

'You are mine now, welpe.'

Gunther didn't wait for him to stand on his own. He hauled the dazed blonde onto his shoulder and carried him out of the ring, but instead of heading up the ramp to the back, Gunther marched towards the announce desk and left through the stunned crowd. Cody slumped like carrion on the hunter's back, trying to make sense of the pattern of strange hallways and doors. Through the lifting haze, he could hear something, a booming voice yelling his name over and over.

'Randy...?' He tried to lift his thumping head, finally shaking the cotton wool in his brain loose. 'Randy, where-'

He was dropped down from Gunther's shoulder and thrown into a dark room. The light was flicked on and he saw a couple of neatly packed bags on the benches realising that Gunther had not taken him to his designated locker room, but somewhere else instead. Bunching up his fists, Cody turned and found the Austrian locking the door tight behind him.

'Alone at last,' Gunther said, walking calmly across the room to lay the key to the door on a bench, easily within Cody's reach. A test, the blonde surmised, the games have begun already. 'No crowd. No officials. Just you and me.'

'Good, I've been hoping for a chance to talk,' Cody puffed out his chest defiantly. He was not afraid of the Ring General.

'Well then,' Gunther gave a wry chuckle, clanking his brand new, diamond-encrusted belt down pride of place for his defeated opponent to see. 'As you say, "what do you want to talk about?"'

Cody took in a steadying breath. 'Crown Jewel. Bash in Berlin. What did you do to Randy?'

'Hmm.' Gunther ran a finger along the gold edge of the championship then straightened up, Cody stepping out of harm's way as the Austrian moved past him towards his possessions. 'You want answers.' Glancing back over his shoulder, Cody saw the key, sitting right there on the bench, a fingertip away. He could grab it, rush for the door, get out.

But the pull for answers was too strong, too important. He stayed put.

Behind him, Gunther was rummaging through one of the bags. 'You see that beautiful belt, right there?' Cody's blue eyes moved from the key to the Crown Jewel Championship. 'That belongs to me, to prove that I am the better champion. A king of champions.'

Suddenly, something wrapped around Cody's neck and jerked him backwards, choking him. His hands went to his throat, fingers grasping at a leather strap and he tried to pull it away but it tightened even more, almost lifting him off his feet.

Then he was let go, landing awkwardly on his bad knee and almost crumbling to the floor. Both hands grasped the garrotte around his neck, finding what felt like a dog's collar.

'And as King of Champions,' Gunther went on, his voice booming directly behind him, 'you belong to me now too. You want answers? You want to know what I did to Randy?' Heavy footsteps thundered around him, Gunther walking into his line of sight. Cody spotted what looked like a remote in his large hand. 'I will show you, welpe.'

'What does that mean?' Cody hissed at the Austrian, but Gunther didn't seem to hear. Or care.

'Dogs don't talk,' he said, cryptically, confusing the blonde. 'Now, let's start with a simple command, shall we? Sitz.' He looked expectantly at Cody who glared right back, not understanding this bizarre situation at all. 'Sitz!' Again, Cody refused to move. 'I said sitz.'

'I don't under- AAAGHHHH!!!!!' A bolt of electricity screamed across Cody's head and down his spine. Every one of his muscles were momentarily paralysed and his legs fell out from underneath him, sending him crashing to the tiled floor. He sat panting on the ground, gasping with shock.

'That's it, braver hund.'

Cody's mind was whirring, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened. Shock collar, his mind cried out in panic. He put you in a shock collar!

'Let's try another,' Gunther's frame seemed even larger now as it loomed over Cody like a great, terrible beast. 'How about-'

But before he could finish, the moment was interrupted by the shrill sound of a cell phone ringing. Gunther went searching for it, allowing Cody a moment to draw breath and assess his dire situation. He could stall no longer, he had to get the key, it was right there and-

'Randy.'

Randy?!

'Yes, I have your bitch right here with me,' Gunther sneered down the phone, his cold eyes finding the fallen champion at his feet. 'A fine specimen he is too. A pure-bred pedigree, from a distinguished lineage, same as you, Randy.' The Austrian trailed his fingers up between Cody's shoulder blades, making the blonde shudder as his captor playfully ruffled the platinum bristles at the back of his neck. 'Such a beautiful creature.'

For the first time that evening, the fear began to claw at him. He looked up at Gunther, reaching for the cell in his hand. 'Please, let me-'

'Do you want to speak with him, Randy? Here.' Gunther held the phone close and the tears almost rushed in when he heard his husband's terror-laced voice.

'Cody? Are you there?'

'I'm here, Randy,' he said, swallowing down his anguish. 'I'll be fine.'

'I'm coming for you. Just hold on.'

'Randy...' Cody took in a quick breath, steeling himself. 'Don't wait up for me, ok?'

'Tell me where you are!' Randy's panic cranked up several notches. 'I'll come find-'

Gunther pulled the cell away, cutting the conversation off. The two men locked eyes as the Ring General took several steps back and placed the phone down on the floor. Cody could hear the small, tinny sound of Randy's voice calling his name frantically and it tore his hear to shreds.

But then, Gunther walked away to the other side of the room, leaving the cell behind. Cody sensed another game, feeling his skin prick with nerves when his captor brandished the control in his hand. A threat. 'No more distractions,' he boomed, his thumb hovering over the large red button on the remote. 'Let's continue with our training. Next command; steh.'

'You want me to stay?' Cody scoffed up at the huge gargoyle. 'Is that it?' Gunther said nothing, only stroked his calloused thumb around the edges of the red button. 'Well, I say, over my dead body!'

Cody leapt forward, arm stretched for the cell when another bolt shot through him, fiercer and longer this time. He fell on his side, his whole body turning as stiff as a board, stretching out like a piece of taffy on the hook.

Then it released him.

He was closer now, he just had to reach up and-

Another bolt, even stronger than the last. It went on for close to ten seconds before it let him go.

The pain was unbearable, his body felt like was being roasted from the inside out. But he gritted his teeth, lowered his brow and heaved his trembling hand from the tiles to grab the-

'AAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHH!'

He was on fire! His blood boiling in his veins! The pain convulsed through him, making his helpless frame judder like a fish caught on dry land. He screamed until his lungs collapsed.

Gunther released his hold on the button. Cody's tattered breaths filled the air, trying to breath through the agony.

'I expected you to be difficult,' Gunther muttered. 'What else could I expect from Randy's bitch. But I broke him eventually, and I will break you too.'

A pocket of bile threw up into Cody's mouth. He spat it out with contempt.

'I am nobody's bitch!' he declared, struggling up to one elbow, a feat which took every ounce of strength and spirit he possessed, 'and I am nothing like Randy.'

Tilting his head slightly, Gunther chewed over Cody's brave words. 'We'll see.'

He slammed his thumb over the button.

'AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!'

Droplets of tepid water broke Cody from his stupour. He found his face pressed down on the tiles and feared for a moment that the rivulets rushing down his face were piss but fortunately it didn't taste like it. It was only water.

'Wake up, Cody,' Gunther's deep, menacing voice vibrated into his skull. 'I didn't give the order to rest.'

His arms were numb, dead to any feeling. So were his legs. Only his neck creaked slowly up to allow him to turn his head and find his captor. He was settling back down onto the bench, taking a swig from the water bottle he had used to rouse Cody from unconsciousness. He looked tired. They had been at this for hours now.

'You are one stubborn little scheiße, I'll admit that,' Gunther said, leaning back against the wall, dribbling the last dredges of water on his brow. 'I had Randy fully trained by now.'

'M'said before,' Cody's clumsy lips tried to form words. 'M'nothing like... Randy...'

'Yes, I see that now.' The Austrian paused for a moment, sitting as still as a grim sculpture. After a while, he leaned over and reached into a bag beside him, pulling from it something long and strange, with a tangle of leather tails dangling from one end. A flogger! 'You actually remind me more of someone else.' He inspected the item, holding in his hand like a precious bar of gold. 'Of Ludwig. Or, to be more precise... of Marcel.'

Cody blinked at that. Trying to find the connection between himself and Gunther's snivelling lackey. Or why his previous name was so significant.

'Marcel was a difficult dog to train too,' Gunther went on, teasing the thick strands of leather though his fingers. 'Stubborn, resilient, intelligent. Too intelligent. Just like you, he absorbed all the pain I inflicted on him and gave me nothing in return.'

Some feeling finally returned to Cody's body. Merely a flicker, but enough for him to draw his quivering arms underneath him and push himself up. He slumped against the wall behind him, keeping his chin up to observe his captor as he spun his tale.

'But just like you, he had a weakness,' Gunther's cruel, evil eye found his and held on, like a locked jaw. 'He had Fabian.' Giovanni, Cody realised. Ludwig's long-time tag partner and another of Gunther's lackeys. Former tag-partner and lackey. Not anymore. Not after his teammates had turned on him and violently exiled him from Imperium.

'I made a bargain with him,' Gunther went on, 'if he submitted to me, then no harm would come to Fabian. He didn't care about his own welfare but the man he loved... that was a different story. He finally gave himself over to me, unaware that his lover had already sold him out for his own worthless life.'

Cody's chest tightened, overwhelmed with empathy for his fellow victim.

'You see, there is a certain finesse with dog training. It's not always about getting quick results. Sometimes, it takes a little time, patience. All it needs is a single break-through, one moment for a bond of trust to be forged between a master and his pet. And over time that bond grows, link by link.'

He had lost him. Cody couldn't follow the logic or why it related to him, but he could sense the danger growing closer every second. He flinched when Gunther stood up and took a step towards him, but he did not tread any closer. Instead, he placed the flogger on the ground between them then returned to his spot on the bench, his mammoth arms resting on his open thighs.

'From this day on, I promise never to claim my winner's rights over Randy again.'

Cody hitched a breath. Had he just heard him right? This couldn't be true. There had to be a catch!

'If...?' He locked his blue eyes onto Gunther's.

The Austrian smiled broadly, letting out a laugh like the rumble of thunder. 'You are a smart one,' he grinned, proudly. 'Letting Randy go means I have a space in my kennels that needs filling. Perhaps you know someone willing to take his place...?'

There it was!

Cody's gaze sank to the floor. He understood. The dog-catcher had the cunning stray cornered and had looped the leash slip around his throat. He looked at the flogger lying there, waiting.

And he knew what to do.

Letting out a wince of pain, he fell onto his hands and knees. His body was numb but he forced it to crawl on all fours across the tiles, grunting with each pain-filled, hard-fought inch, until he reached the flogger and bent his face down to it. Opening his mouth wide, he wrapped his tongue around it and pulled it in, his teeth crunching down into the worn leather of the handle to keep it secure as he lifted his head back up.

That was the easy bit.

Cody hesitated, fighting that last piece of him that demanded he drop the flogger and grab the key still sitting there on the bench and make a dash for the door. But he remembered Randy, remembered that haunted look in his eyes and the tears on his cheeks and he couldn't bear a repeat of his husband's torment.

So he crawled over to Gunther.

'Braver hund,' his master smiled triumphantly, putting out his palm for Cody to drop the flogger in. He was rewarded with a gentle ruffle of his master's hand through his hair, trembling at the touch. Discovering that he hated Gunther's tenderness far more than he hated his brutality.

'Now,' Gunther leered, stroking his hand all the way down Cody's bare back until it hit the waistband of his wrestling tights. Cody suppressed a gasp when the strange fingers slid right in. 'Let's see if you're ready for breeding.'

Randy broke his promise. He was waiting for him.

Cody jumped when he opened the door to his tour bus and found his husband there on the steps, on the brink of sleep. As soon as he saw Cody though, he jumped back to life and grabbed him up in a bruising hug.

'Cody! Are you-? Did he hurt you? Talk to me.'

But what could he say? How could he begin to explain?

'I feel dirty,' he said at last.

Randy understood. 'Let's run you a shower.'

His husband took great care with him, letting Cody strip himself then helped him into the small shower unit on the bus, turning the water up good and hot. Cody didn't have enough energy in him to stand, instead sitting on the floor with his knees bunched up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them protectively while Randy gently scrubbed away the filth of Gunther's winner's room with soap and a sponge. He asked no questions, knew better than that. Knew better than anyone.

Even now, Cody could see that trauma in his husband's grey-blue eyes and wondered if he now looked that way too. Now that he had endured the same torture. But he had only received it once, Randy had lost to that monster twice in a matter of mere months.

Cody reached out and grabbed his husband tightly by the wrist. Randy gave a start and stared wide-eyed at his lover who used his other hand to cup the Viper's bristly cheek.

'He told you you were weak,' Cody said, his voice steady as a rock in stormy waters, bashed and buffeted yet standing firm. 'You're not, Randy. Don't believe him. You are the strongest man I know.'

The Viper's jaw fell slack, hanging open as words tried and failed to come out. His brow furrowed and his eyes blinked, each time manifesting more spots of light which blurred out the grey-blue. He gave a wobbly nod and tried to look away.

But Cody grabbed his chin with both hands and lifted his head back up proudly. Pulling him in under the hot spray, he brought their lips together and kissed him passionately. And when the kiss was over, he rested his forehead against Randy's, drinking in the warmth and love from his husband, filling his empty soul back up to the brim again.

'We both are,' he said. 'We're both stronger. Together.'

#Thlayli-writes #cody rhodes #randy orton #candy #gunther #imperium #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fan fiction #fic request #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw torture #tw pet play #Thlayli's Trick or Treat #winner's room au

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