#winner fiction

[moonlight-records]

And The Winner Is... | T. Wolff (Part I)

pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

summary: you love sabrina carpenter and your icon is giving one lucky audience member pink fuzzy handcuffs before 'Juno'. the catch? she's picking men more then females. it's a great thing that your boyfriend is really hot

warning: besides age gap (reader is in her 20's), none!

fc: none!

wc: 916

current | part 2

“On a scale from one to ten, how much do you tolerate me?”

“What?”

Toto looks up from his paperwork and stares at you, “do you mean how much do I love you?”

“No, I know what I said.”

Toto can’t help but stare at you. He glances away then back, not really sure how to respond to the question that is still lingering in the air. Finally, Toto rubs his face slowly as he drops his hands gently on the table, “I love you a lot therefore on a scale of one to ten, I would fall past ten.” Tilting his head slightly, “Why?”

“I bought concert tickets and I want you to go with me.” You admit smiling sheepishly.

“And do I know this artist?”

“Probably not. Unless you’ve always secretly listened to Sabrina Carpenter,” you make your way over to him. “It’s okay if you do, I don’t judge.”

Toto’s brow comes together in thought, “is that the small blonde you’ve been listening to?” Toto watches you confirm and he slowly nods. “So, you bought concert tickets?”

“Yeah.the company working with Team Sabrina released some VIP tickets so I got them actually and it’s a pre-show party with foods and merch and I get to be in the pit and all.” you start and shift slightly, “though…I did buy two tickets and sadly my friends are pretty busy that night so…”

"You want me to go to a concert with you?” Toto starts, “to a…pop? Yes, pop artist concert?” Toto puts his hands together while resting his forehead against them, “I understand why you asked me how much I tolerate you.” He can’t help the ghost of a smirk forming on his face when you make some noise before looking up and sighing gently, “When is it?”

“Next week from today.”

Toto brings his gaze to his computer as he starts to look through his calendar. He sees that he is free that day and he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, “Okay, be honest with me. Why do you want me to come with you?”

“For a date night, obviously,” you start as you round the corner and sitting on his desk, “we haven’t had one in forever and the break is almost done and it would be fun!” You smile at Toto before seeing the pointed look you give and you sigh, “Okay, maybe that’s not the only reason that I want you to come with me.”

“Obviously,” Toto remarks and smirks slightly, “so please. Explain why you want someone like me to assist you at this concert.” He raises a brow

“Because I really want to be the lucky winner of some pink fuzzy handcuffs that Sabrina gives out to a lucky person in the pit,” you whine softly as you lean forward, “pleaaaaaase.”

Toto is taken aback, surprised at the information you just told him, “Wh—pink fuzzy handcuffs? Why is she…” he shakes his head. This is not the time to ask about that, there are more pressing issues at hand. “How do I play into that?”

“Because she typically picks men over women and you just stand out and you are just so hot babe you’d be a shoo in for these cuffs.” You beam a smile to your boyfriend before you stand up and grab Toto’s shoulders gently, staring him dead in the eyes, “please, you would make me the happiest girl already if you got me these cuffs.”

Toto stares at you and sighs softly as he weighs his options, “Well, what’s in it for me?”

“Well,” you lean back, “free food. Free drinks—”

“Being stuck in an arena that is going to be extremely hot,” Toto interjects, “and loud, and probably result in a headache from the music and the people. Not to mention my ears ringing.”

���You get earplugs,” you pout slightly before leaning in a bit, “Toto. Listen to me. If you end up winning those cuffs, I will not only let you use them on me all night but I will drag you to the bathroom the moment the show is over and blow you into next year, okay?”

You weren’t very vocal when it came to being intimate. It’s not that you weren’t, you and Toto had a very healthy sex life, you just had never been one to really be into dirty talking or anything really vocalize outside of closed doors but this was different. You had been a long time Sabrina Carpenter fan and how many times could you win pink fuzzy handcuffs from your favorite artist to sing one of the horniest songs known to man while being able to handcuff your boyfriend?

Yeah, you had to make sure Toto knew what was on the line for these handcuffs. 

You watch the gears turn in Toto’s head as you take in his wide eyes and mouth open silently. You slowly nod when it finally clicks for Toto and he starts to slowly nod, “so, do you wanna come to this concert with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, good.” You smile and cup his face before giving Toto a gentle kiss. You pull back and kiss his cheek. “Okay! I have to go buy us matching outfits, I’ll be back!” 

“Okay Schatz,” Toto takes a moment, “Hey! No! Do not buy me an outfit!” He shouts and you laugh softly but manically because you are buying him an outfit that he’ll secretly love when the shock is over.

[gothamite-rambler]

"My mother sense are tingling." Talia said, calmly.

Talia isn't a bad mom in this btw. I think she is a great mom, but she's being depicted as a goofy villain. That is it, I know crazy I make her that well according to that one dude I blocked. Hm, either way this is for my microfiction series 😊

Talia sat in her room, reading from a book called 'Tiger Mom' when she felt the urge to call Damian. She quickly dialed his number and was elated when he answered.

Talia: Hi, my sweet baby boy. How is life? Is school going well? Are you friends with that little girl? Are you brothers treating you well? I've never loved calling them your brothers, but are you being treated well by them or does mommy need to deal with them?

Damian looked at the phone, annoyed.

Talia: Has that rash gone away? You said it was itchy on your-

Damian: I. Am. Fine!

Talia: You sure my precious gift from the man I will win back?

Damian: Mother! Life is good here and father is with Selina. Who is sitting next to me!

Talia: Oh, am I on speaker?

Damian: Yes.

Talia: Selina, you're getting fatter I imagine.

Damian: God damn it.

Selina (biting back): And your brain is deteriorating from dipping yourself in the Lazarus Pit like a potato chip.

Talia: Mm, keep your eye on her, tifl. If she hurts you, one bullet for my baby. Mm-kay?

Damian: Uh-huh, bye. Love you.

Talia: You love me? Yes! Love you too, sweetie pie.

Damian ended the call, sighed then rested his head on Selina's shoulder.

Damian: You get why I want to call you my second mom at times?

Selina: Definitely. She's a... She loves you.

Damian: Thankfully, I care about her, but she's a smother mother for sure.

Selina giggled, patting Damian on his cheek.

[drewharrisonwriter]

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.

[thlayli-ra]

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.'

[pharawee]

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 💜)

[suzy-queued]

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.

[lezarus]

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!!!!!!!!!!!!

[daddytonysgirl17]

Tony, I love you ❤️

[i-cast-zone-of-truth]

Ok but to take the idea of the Kingdom in botw-totk seriously for a second. “Kingdom” means different things in botw vs totk:

In botw, an actual State existed with government and systems etc and when ppl sigh wistfully over it, they’re thinking of the protections offered by that hegemony, but it’s been a hundred years and they don't remember everything that that meant. they can only imagine that world— but it must have been very great! Just look at the mess it left behind!

Totk’s Kingdom refers to “the place where all Link’s friends live.” still bounded by the canyon, the desert, and the ocean…. but the return of one princess does not a unifying government make. The different peoples clearly govern themselves, and look kindly on Zelda who after all only shows up to help (accompanied by 1-5 hylians max). She doesn’t need an army, because she’s not threatening to re-subjugate anyone; she’s just here to study the local insect species, please.

Link losing his memory has more than one upside, because not only did he not immediately have to remember everyone he would feel he’d personally failed in the Calamity, but 100 years ago he was Fully Bought In to the whole Kingdom thing, and it would have been incredibly rough to throw him directly from that into this disordered, emptied place and expect him to see something beautiful.

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

EVENT POLL: 30-MAN ROYAL RUMBLE FOR FICTIONAL CHARACTERS TIME! (part 11: And the winner is…)

We’re down to only 3 competitors left; #18 Ash Ketchum (Pokemon), #19 Apollo Justice (Ace Attorney), and #27 Gregory House (House MD). After the three of them catch their breath, they charge at each other to finally end this Royal Rumble.

The struggle lasts for a few minutes, complete with several close calls as each man nearly falls over the top rope. But eventually, one does fall. That man…is Ash Ketchum! Ash is eliminated by Apollo Justice after Apollo stuns Ash with his finishing move, the Spear of Steel!

Example of what Apollo did to Ash:

Now it’s down to Apollo vs. House. Lawyer vs. doctor. The young rookie vs. the old veteran. It seemed like Apollo had it. He nailed House with another Spear of Steel, which should’ve been enough to clinch the victory.

But just as Apollo ran at House to push him over the top rope, House used Apollo’s forward momentum to throw him out instead!

Example of what House did to Apollo:

And the winner of the 1st Fictional Men’s Royal Rumble is…Dr. Gregory House!!!

(Tomorrow, I’ll do a complete write-up of the results of the Royal Rumble. Thank you everyone who followed along and participated in the voting!)

[thatsofic]

#FICTITIOUSCORE WINNER !

Find our lovely hosts at … @chloekwon + @yrmycrush + @urmykrushhh

Faint cheering and screams of excitement filled the arena as the curtains revealed the star-studded stage. Standing in the respective order that they performed in were the contestants as they anxiously awaited the results and occasionally leaned over to speak to themselves or the other groups. In front of them, side by side and in the center, stood the hosts; Chloe Kwon to the left, Ansel in the middle, and Kaleina to the right in an attempt to let her stand closer to her group.

"Hello, FICTITOUSCORE! Tonight, after watching these several talented idols take on the stage and wow the crowd, it's time we finally reveal who the winner of the first FICTITOUSCORE trophy is!" Ansel eagerly takes the mic first as Chloe holds up the award and shows it off to the everyone.

Kaleina nods along with his words. "That's right! Behind us stands the first winner to kickoff the music show and we couldn't be more thrilled to see who you guys-" She then pointed at the cameras, "Voted for!"

"The idols behind us did an amazing job at giving us a taste at what to expect from here on out. I hope you all know you did a great job and that we're looking forward to more performances from you guys in the future," Chloe peaks back at the contestants and then back to the crowd with a smile.

"Without further ado..." Kaleina starts, exchanging a look with her fellow hosts before they all faced the same direction towards the camera in front.

"Here's your FICTITOUSCORE winner!" They all cheer together.

The jumbotron showcases all the artists on stage before the screen widens, showing off the victors of the night.

"Krush!" Chloe and Ansel say it together while Kaleina looks stunned. Chloe hands her the trophy and bows alongside Ansel.

"Congratulations to Krush for taking home the first trophy of the season. We're looking forward to your future activities and cannot wait to see you return on the show!" Chloe claps for her co-host as does Ansel takes the mic to begin the closing.

"Thank you for watching! Tune in for next month's performance! Goodbye for now!" All three hosts smile and bow to the cameras, the last few moments seen being Chloe and Ansel patting Kaleina's back and giving her side hugs.

Congrats to @urmykrushhh for being the winners of this month's music show award! If you'd like, you can post your encore stage and acceptance speech and tag us when you're done so we can reblog it! Thank you all so much for participating! We're looking forward to the next episode already!

[wordshaveteeth]

History is a silent record of people who could not leave, it is a record of those who did not have a choice, you cannot leave when you have nowhere to go and have no way to go there, you cannot leave when your children cannot get a passport, cannot go when your feet are rooted in the earth and to leave means tearing off your feet.

- Paul Lynch, Prophet Song

[dove-da-birb]

Yeah, I turned comparing my favs into a damn slideshow and MADE IT INTO A VIDEO

Characters;

Twisted Wonderland; Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Rook Hunt, Trey Clover

Ikemen Series; Clavis Lelouche (ikepri), Osamu Dazai (ikevamp), Johann Georg Faust (ikevamp), Roger Barel (ikevil)

Obey Me; Mammon, Leviathan

Assorted Games; Julian Devorak (the arcana), Jaehee Kang (mystic messenger)

Assorted Anime; Grell Sutcliffe (black butler), Sugawara Koushi (haikyuu!), Bokuto Koutarou (haikyuu!), Hermes (record of ragnarok), Buddha (record of ragnarok)

*if I see anyone misgender Grell, I am having your kneecaps. Grell uses she/her pronouns and is a trans woman

Da list

Glasses; Azul, Trey, Jaehee, Faust, Buddha, Roger, Grell, Mammon

Eyepatch; Julian, Buddha

Tall an' goofy (*tall being 5'10 and over); Floyd, Trey, Julian, Clavis, Hermes, Buddha, Bokuto

Mole; Azul, Clavis, Sugawara, Hermes

Should not be trusted near food; Jade & Faust (experiments likely), Buddha (munchies), Clavis (actual bad cook)

Butler aesthetic; Jade, Grell, Hermes

Mom friend & needs a nap; Trey, Jaehee, Sugawara

On a watchlist; Azul, Jade, Floyd, Rook, Leviathan, Dazai, Clavis, Faust, Julian, Mammon, Buddha, Roger, Hermes, Grell

Has been arrested at least once (canon or not); Floyd, Clavis, Mammon, Julian, Grell, Roger

Green eyes; Rook, Grell

Blue eyes; Azul, Buddha, Mammon

Yellow/Gold eyes; Jade, Floyd, Trey, Faust, Clavis, Bokuto, Jaehee, Roger, Dazai

Dark hair; Trey, Clavis, Faust, Roger, Leviathan, Hermes, Dazai, Jaehee

Light hair; Azul, Mammon, Sugawara, Bokuto, Rook, Buddha

Red hair; Grell, Julian

They look similar; Tweels (twins), Trey & Roger

Shark teeth; Tweels, Grell

Fangs; Leviathan, Mammon, Dazai, Faust, Buddha (top and bottom, yes, I'm specifying)

Not human; Azul, Tweels, Grell, Faust, Dazai, Leviathan, Mammon, Hermes, Buddha

Human; Rook, Trey, Clavis, Roger, Jaehee, Julian, Bokuto, Sugawara

Huntsmen from Snow White (if I had a nickel...); Rook, Roger

Malewife; Jade, Rook, Trey, Hermes, Sugawara

Wet cat; Azul, Leviathan, Mammon, Julian, Roger

Gremlin/menace; Azul, Tweels, Rook, Mammon, Clavis, Julian, Dazai, Grell, Buddha

Girlboss; Jaehee, Grell (Azul solely for his business schemes)

Himbo; Bokuto, Mammon, Buddha (debatable)

IRL I'm punting them; Azul, Clavis, Julian, Leviathan

IRL I would be terrified of them; Tweels, Rook, Faust, Roger, Hermes, Buddha

Melodramatic; Azul, Jade, Rook, Clavis, Dazai, Julian, Grell

Special interest go brrrrr; Fish bastards & Leviathan (ocean/fish), Rook (archery/poetry), Dazai & Faust (vampires), Hermes (Greek mythology)

Bakes; Trey, Jaehee

I forget to add that both Clavis and Julian have HORRENDOUS handwriting in the slideshow, but I'm not editing it <3

Most points; Jade Leech (11), Clavis Lelouche (11), Buddha (11)

Second place; Azul Ashengrotto (10.5)

Third place; Roger Barel (10), Julian Devorak (10), Grell Sutcliffe (10)

[thlayli-ra]

Can you do the kissing away their tears with drew and punk

Since Bad Blood, I have had a few requests for another instalment of the Winner's Room AU, then @afterdarkprincess inspired me with her post and I had this perfect little prompt for my Trick or Treat event sitting in my askbox, so I've mashed the whole lot together to write the final chapter of the Winner's Room AU. Enjoy!

Treat - 'Kissing Away Their Tears'

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre

Rating - Mature

Warnings - Blood, angst, smut, religious imagery

They say that dogs often find a quiet place to be alone when they know they're going to die.

Perhaps that was why Drew wanted to be by himself right now. He may not have been literally dying but he felt like he was, the pain in his head and body so visceral he could hardly stand. But the greatest pain of all was in his chest, off-centre, slightly to the left. In his heart. For when his blood and sweat had run out of him in great gushing rivers, something else had left him too, a piece of his soul, leaving behind a black hole like a decayed crust.

He sat bunched up on the floor, the room around him pitch black and silent. Pulling his knees up tighter to his chest, he set his forehead upon them, wincing at the anguish that wailed from the gruesome gash on his crown and let out a fresh surge of tears, coating his already damp and sticky cheeks.

No, he may not literally be dying. Yet, it felt like the end.

He never heard the door opening or the shuffling of booted feet stepping into the room. It was only when the room around him became drenched in cold, hard light that he even realised his solitude had been shattered. He peeked through his intertwined arms, blue glassy eyes trailing up the black boots, past the black and white kick pads, over the black and white trunks with the single heart among the six-pointed stars, panels of white on either side mirroring the white checked panels on Drew's own trunks, all finished off with a decorative silver lining. Ring gear as filthy and as soiled as his own attire.

Drew's gaze did not venture any further. Not up past the black gothic writing arched over the naval, or the twisting skull and serpent tattoo, and certainly not up past the greying beard and the thin, harsh lips and the crooked nose and definitely not into those two cruel pools of olive green that shimmered whenever they hit the light.

He didn't want to see the look on Punk's face. He knew why he was here, had even hid in the desperate hope that he wouldn't come for him. These past months, he had discovered first hand the depths of cruelty that this man was capable of and in only the past hour had been the ill-fated victim of the worst of it. For nearly forty-five minutes he had been beaten and maimed and tortured, busted open and made to bleed like a blessed statue of the Virgin Mary.

But with Punk, it was always a given that he could raise his game up another level, and Drew trembled at the prospect of what the older man would do to him now that he had a solid victory under his belt and they were completely alone with no interference this time.

'Please don't hurt me,' his quivering lips uttered quietly.

A nasally sigh permeated the air and another soft shuffle of boots as Punk made his way towards him. The Scot drew his large legs in tighter, rolling up into himself like a frightened hedgehog who's spines had been torn out, one-by-one. Vaguely aware of the demon crouching down in front of him.

Craggy fingers teased their way under his chin and coaxed it back. Drew flinched at the tenderness of their touch, softly guiding his blurry gaze up, but the Scot would not be tricked and locked his eyes instead on the swirling pattern of waves across Punk's chest, boxed in on either side by a white towel draped over his shoulders.

Another sigh. Punk sounded tired, but not the kind of exhausted tired he had been last time. More like mentally tired, emotionally tired, like a man who had been on the run his entire life and was now getting sick of running.

'Look at me,' his voice was deeper than usual, raspier. Drew wondered if his brief stint with the oxygen mask had affected it. Or perhaps, something else...? Had he also been-?

Drew wanted so much, so very much to look up but he was too afraid of what he would find, or worse, not find.

'Ok...' Punk's fingers slipped out from under his chin again and the fear dug deeper into Drew's chest. His hand moved on its own accord, wrapping around Punk's wrist and snaring it tightly.

'Shhh, it's ok,' Punk placed his own fingers gently around Drew's, stroking them with a feathery touch. 'I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.'

That should have terrified him yet the thought of him leaving terrified him even more.

Drew watched Punk's other fist, the fight tape circling it dyed a rich red, almost hiding the pencilled-on stigmata in the centre of his palm, as it clumsily found the edge of his towel and unfurled it from around his neck. The Scot gasped as it was pressed down onto the top of his head, directly above the horrific crevice cutting through his skin. As Punk applied more pressure, Drew's entire six foot five frame gave an almighty shudder and his lips parted enough for a fragile whimper to escape.

'Yeah, it's a real bad one,' Punk hushed out. 'Must have caught the edge of the tool box or something. You'll need to see the medic afterwards to get it stitched up.'

His words offered no comfort to Drew who gritted his teeth and tried to fight off the pain in his skull. Another whine sounded in his throat.

'Shhh, I know, I know.' The older man gave a little tug on his wrist but Drew grunted and refused to release it. 'Can I have my hand back, please?' There was a slight joviality in his tone. It helped put some of Drew's fears to rest. Surely he wasn't going to hurt him that much if he was making jokes and tending to his wounds? Eventually his fingers unclamped, and Punk pulled his wrist free. The sudden loss of connection panicked the Scotsman and he fumbled around for another part of Punk to hold, finding a spot on the older man's thigh and curling his fingers into the muggy, moist seam of his knee pad.

'You're a mess,' Punk noted aloud, using his newly freed hand to pick up the corner of the towel and wipe at the bloodstains on Drew's face.

Something sparked inside of Drew, a knee-jerk reaction that he couldn't contain. 'Because of you,' he spat back at the other man, albeit feebly.

'I promised you I would make you bleed.'

'And you did.'

'I did.'

'And now it's-' Oh no! No, no, please. Not here, not right in front of him! But his gates had been kicked in by this very man until they were destroyed completely, hanging off of their hinges all warped and mangled. Drew could no longer hold back the welling tide inside of him. 'I-it's over!'

Huge, fat tears poured from his eyes. His shoulder began to quake, wracked with his heart-wrenching sobs. And Drew had nothing left, no energy or defences, however small, remaining to stop it. So he sobbed like a lost child, clenching his fingers even tighter around the edge of Punk's knee pad, not a single shred of light to help guide him through the suffocating darkness.

'Hey, now.' The towel was removed from his head and dropped to the floor. Now both sets of inked hands were cupping Drew's bearded cheeks and he gave no more resistance as his jaw was tilted back and finally, finally he looked up.

He looked at Punk.

The older man didn't just sound tired, he looked tired. The ever-present bags under his eyes were swollen and puffy, coloured a deep pink. His scruffy, silver-speckled cheeks were drawn, his hair a tangled mess and the area around his eye sockets sunken in.

But it was his eyes themselves that grasped Drew's heart and squeezed it mercilessly. The way they gently shimmered like the quiet ripples of a lake in the moonlight. The delicate tenderness in them that struck Drew as viciously as the heavy metal wrench had in the cell.

Punk's white lips parted slightly, a warm breeze ghosting on Drew's face.

'Please don't cry.'

Drew shook his head with despair. Defeated, and not because his shoulders had been pinned to the mat for the one, two, three. 'First, I lost our bracelet and now... now I'm losing you too.'

Punk sighed again, pulling in his bottom lip to rake it with his teeth. 'I was never yours, Drew,' he said at last, and the Scot eyes filled again, weighted by the pull of the concrete slab chained to his feet dragging him beneath the waves to drown. 'But...' a sliver of Punk's tongue appeared at the corner of his mouth, stroked timidly across his lips.

Drew blinked up expectantly.

'.. but for tonight, you are mine.'

He leaned in, placing those same lips on Drew's cheek. The Scotsman froze, paralysed by Punk's taser lips brushing his skin. Unable to do anything, not even breathe, as one-by-one Punk kissed away every single wet droplet trickling down his face. His kisses were tranquil and sweet, each one dropping a piece of serenity back into Drew's soul, helping to repair some of the fractures left by the brutality of their match.

After chasing away the last tear, Punk pulled back every so slightly, finding the crystal blues of Drew's eyes, pausing, thinking. Then mentally saying 'fuck it' and lunging in to capture Drew's lips. At first, the Scot didn't know what to do but when he felt Punk's tongue tease his own, a simmering tang bursting on his taste buds, he returned in kind. Both of their mouth opened up, allowing the other in and they enthusiastically explored one another, probing deep into each crevice and fold. Drew's tongue found the empty groove of Punk's missing molar and swirled in the gap until his lips curled with mirth and a thought suddenly popped into his head.

This is the first time we've ever kissed!

All the vile, cruel, sadistic crimes they had inflicted on one another and they'd never so much as shared a single kiss. It seemed bizarre under the circumstances.

But they were more than making up for lost time, growing greedy and sloppy with one another's lips until at last Punk let go, a misty look in his eyes and a lopsided smirk on his lips. Lifting himself up slightly on his knees, his blood-splattered fingers went to the waistband of his trunks and pulled out the knotted ties holding them up. Drew looked on as Punk slowly and deliberately untied the chords, savouring the show being played out for him, especially relishing the part when Punk hooked both of his thumbs in the slackened waistband and slipped them down his thighs, over his kick pads and off, leaving him naked from the knees up.

Punk's busy hands set to work, clutching at Drew's ankles to tempt his gigantic legs down in order to straddle the larger man's lap, then seized his wrists and guided Drew's hands to his hips. The Scot readily obeyed, holding his holy relic steady as he nudged in closer. Punk's own fingers were fiddling with the studded waistband of Drew's bloodied trunks, yanking it down enough to free the Scot's cock. He gasped loudly when Punk looped his fist around it and gave it several delicious strokes from root to tip.

Closing his eyes, the Scotsman tipped his head back against the frigid wall, every other sensation suddenly numbed bar the glorious one between his legs. This was an entirely new side to Punk that he had never imagined possible. This man, who had shown him nothing but hatred and spite all these months, all these years, was now being so loving, so affectionate, so gentle, caressing him with all the tenderness of an angel's wing. It was like a religious experience, a vision, a revelation, and suddenly he realised this this was all he'd ever wanted and had been so blind to it this whole time simply because he had no idea it even existed.

Somehow, some way, there was enough blood left in Drew for it all to rush south. Punk eyed the bulging appendage, mesmerised. His fingers found each side of Drew's head and delicately slid his foreskin back, lifting the veil to admire his blushing bride beneath. Drew let out a shaky breath, his cock bobbing with delight.

No more words needed to be said between them. They had put everything out there in the open, they had traded barbs on the mic, they had flogged the skin from one another's back, they had beaten each other until they had painted the canvas with their blood. There was nothing more to give.

Except one thing. One last gift that Punk had to offer Drew; and as he lifted himself up onto his knees and lined himself up with his throbbing cock, placing his forearms on Drew's broad shoulders to lock on tight to his gaze, he readily gave that gift.

His undying attention. At long last.

And Drew accepted it gleefully, never once wavering from his intense hazel stare as Punk pushed down onto him, piercing himself with the spear. His hole opened wide like a flower in the sun, welcoming Drew's warmth in and he slipped in easily. It was nothing at all like that time after Summerslam, in the showers. It felt right, as if it was their natural state, a habit, like putting on his wedding ring every morning. Or perhaps not, perhaps more like, when he used to put Punk's bracelet on, after the elastic had stretched loose to accommodate Drew's meatier wrist. Within only a couple of pushes, Punk had taken him in all the way to the hilt and it felt so incredible that Drew nearly cried again.

They began to move, Drew thrusting his eager hips into Punk while the older man squatted down onto him, both finding a perfect rhythm easily and settling into it. Both starting to blush and bead with sweat, the dried blood on their faces staining the dewdrops scarlet to look like fresh clots skimming off their brows. Both of them keeping their eyes trained on each other and only each other.

And in that moment, Drew saw the lines of blood on Punk's face, saw his short hair spiked out like a crown of thorns and as he bobbed up and down, he would catch the single light in the room directly behind him, and the Scot gasped aloud when the vision manifested into reality.

He had been wrong. Punk was not a succubus or a demon. He was a saint, with a halo shining around his head.

Punk's words from a week ago crashed into him. It had been more than a threat - it had been a prophecy. One that had come to fruition;

'You will look up,

and I will wipe the blood from your eyes so you see me,

And it's not a god you're praying to,

It's not the devil you're praying to.

You will be praying to

CM Punk!'

[espresso-ships]

Commission for @thepenguinandthefiend!

For the art raffle/give away I did!

Thanks for participating and I'm glad you liked it! :3

Klaus Hargreeves from The Umbrella Academy and Killian!

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

In this month’s bonus chat, Ariel and Christina discuss Nebula-award-winning short story “The Year Without Sunshine” by Naomi Kritzer – the first winning story that is being labelled solarpunk! Your hosts consider questions such as: what makes this short story solarpunk, actually? What makes it so compelling? If it’s supposed to be solarpunk, why is there no mention of climate change whatsoever?

These questions (and much, much more) are addressed here - but make sure to read the story first, if you don't want spoilers! It's free and takes about 20 minutes all told and is a genuinely excellent piece of short fiction.

Links:

Link to the story - https://www.uncannymagazine.com/article/the-year-without-sunshine/ The historical Year Without a Summer - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Year_Without_a_Summer Episode with Jenny Kerber - https://youtu.be/uSz6YvhVsLI?si=hnjAPYUHGkDXUmc4 An analysis of the significance of "nature red in tooth and claw" - https://interestingliterature.com/2016/01/a-short-analysis-of-canto-lvi-from-tennysons-in-memoriam/ Soylent Green - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soylent_Green Day of the Triffids - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Day_of_the_Triffids