#DICK IS ASKING FOR WRESTLING MATCH WITH HIS BROTHER WITH STATEMENTS LIKE THIS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlinrogue · 3 years

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Matt Hardy

For me because I can’t write an actual analysis

I-Con (ˈīˌkän) noun

1. One who is the object of great attention and devotion; an idol

2. A person or thing regarded as a representative symbol of something

3. An entity that will not die

4. A being or force that is stronger than death

5. MATT HARDY

The Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City was a scene set in Adam Page’s dreams. The stage had hosted acts like Brittney Spears, Avenged Sevenfold, David Bowie, Paramore, All Time Low, Guns N’ Roses, Korn, Iron Maiden, and two farm boys from the rural south who somehow sneaked in before the curtain fell. The wrestling fans in t-shirts, jeans, and bawdy signs, didn’t match the elegant balconies they crowded. The ring was a jagged piece of metallic architecture placed on an old warn, wood floor. Adam Page, twenty-two years old, settled in the far corner with his heart in his throat and his childhood idol adjacent to him. The microphone lifted to Matt Hardy’s lips like he intended to speak. At that moment as Matt Hardy looked over the crowd, it was like a fantasy. Something he spun-up while he bounced on the trampoline with his sister and begged her to let him try the Twist of Fate one more time.

In the 1970 census, a few years before his birth, Matt Hardy’s hometown of Cameron, North Carolina had a whopping population of 204 individuals. In 1990, when Matt and his brother Jeff were mimicking the moves they learned off TV on the trampoline, the population was an impressive 215. Cameron was a small town in the heart of tobacco country, Virginia and Carolina being one of the few places in the United States to grow the desired plant. Running down to the coast, once out of the foothills of the Appalachians and Grandfather Mountain, North Carolina was flat and balmy. Unlike the dense red clay of the Piedmont region, the soil was silty and perfect for farming. Matt probably never saw more than a few inches of snow a Winter. A few hours to the East and he’d stand at the edge of the Atlantic. Along the cat’s claw thin barrier Islands, he’d watch the waves wash over white sand. Hear the whispers of shipwrecks the vicious coast of North Carolina claimed.

A stupid kid like Adam Page, eyeballs glued to the TV screen as WWF played Monday Night Raw or later Smackdown, heard these stories of the Hardy Boyz and looked at his own life. Aaron's Creek, Virginia, made Cameron look like a metropolis. Adam’s hometown was so small it didn’t even deserve a Wikipedia page. His family had deep roots in Virginia because it was a state for lovers. His father also raised tobacco and Adam grew-up amongst the viridian fields, laid out for acres around the house he grew up in. There wasn’t a lot of money for Christmas most years and Adam knew more about the intricacies of cattle farming than he sometimes cared to admit to his classmates. Yet, while his best friends extolled the Hardys for their daredevil stunts, ladders, and chairs. Adam idolized them because they were a proof of concept. That it was possible for a hard-working, farm working, Virgin-lina boy, to grow-up and be hot shit.

In 2013, Adam was starting to warm-up, with a brand new Ring of Honor contract and some neon green trunks. At Final Battle, the crown jewel event of the promotion he just signed-to, Adam had no choice but to laugh as Matt Hardy was almost booed out of the arena the moment he got a mic in his hand. It made Adam feel like a hero. Of the two, the audience preferred Adam Page to Matt Hardy, just incredible. Of course, Matt Hardy, the iconic, was a manipulative and arrogant son of a bitch, who claimed more than was his to take. Never meet your heroes, they say, and when Adam met his, he was kind of a dick. Yet, when Matt Hardy clasped his hand and gave him a firm handshake, that felt like a small victory. An inner ten-year-old in Adam promised to never wash it again.

It was also a statement. A statement that even if Matt Hardy thought he was better than this everybody, he still had to treat Adam with some measure of respect. Never once did Adam allow the stars in his eyes to blind him. There was no point in fighting a legend if it was only half the legend— Adam was going to get all of Matt Hardy, or nothing. So, he slapped Matt Hardy across the cheek and dragged out the old champion.

A year later, when Adam worked under Hardy’s personal brand, OMEGA, Matt would talk up the youthful Adam Page. Call him the future of wrestling, with his impressive moonsaults, clever counters, fearless attitude, and ‘never say die’ mentality. It was a good showing that night. Adam showed a lot of heart. Surely, he impressed someone upstairs— but he didn’t win. And Adam didn’t know what the point of having ‘heart’ was if he couldn’t win with it. Having ‘heart’ is the wrestling equivalent of a participation trophy.

In the Hammerstein Ballroom though, in 2013, a Twist of Fate would plant Adam on his head and the match would end at seven minutes and twenty seconds. That same night, just a couple of months after their New Japan debut, the Young Bucks defeated ACH and TaDarius Thomas. In due course, the Jacksons would join the Bullet Club with one Kenny Omega. Next month, Jimmy Jacobs, Roderick Strong, and BJ Whitmer formed the Decade, then called Adam out in the same breath, all for daring to dream bigger than the East Coast that Ring of Honor frequented. That night, in New York City, in the heart of Manhattan, the Hammerstein ballroom became a pivoting point for Adam’s life. Matt Hardy was Adam’s first breakpoint.

Through the course of 2014, Adam followed Matt’s invitation into OMEGA and crisscrossed central Carolina in search of his next break. Alongside his then tag-partner, Corey Hollis, Adam wrestled one more match in the ring with Matt Hardy. With the addition of his equally strange brother: Jeff Hardy. An eight-man tag where for a bizarre moment Adam was in the corner with the Hardy Boyz. Twenty years on from WWF ladder matches and the two men, closer to forty than thirty, could still go. Go with the speed and intensity of their youth. With the reckless abandon that defined their careers. These were the type of guys who looked at a wrestling ring and asked, “ you know what needs ?” Then answered: “More hardware.” Watching Matt Hardy, Adam learned when to slow, when to hasten, when to wait, when to press the advantage. Little tricks of the trade. He absorbed all of it like a sponge and held it tight to his chest. Treasure and gold to spend a little farther down the road.

Adam learned that Matt Hardy ran equal parts hot and cold. He was a little off, in a way that wasn’t healthy, but Adam blamed that on a history of concussions and injuries. Arrogant but in a way that was condescending and so he was always willing to groom a newbie to greatness. In fact, Matt Hardy took great pride in taking some young kid and making them a ‘star.’ In a way, every OMEGA recruit was some pet project of Matt or Jeff Hardy. No better way to pat yourself on the back than to make someone. It was never about the protege, though, it was about Matt Hardy. It was about his ego trip, to be able to say—

‘Look what I did for Adam Page.’

And he could cash in his ‘good person’ chip for the week.

Oh, and how Adam knows how it goes. Like, a favorite catchy tune.

BJ Whitmer ruffled his hair and a stupid twenty-four-year-old, hoping for approval, construed it as affectionate. Unaware that the gesture was more like the way a man polishes the rearview window of his new SUV. Yeah, he likes the vehicle, it’s expensive, he’s invested a lot, and he’d get really pissed if someone keyed the paint, but it was nothing but an object. A thing that he owns. A possession to be used and thrown away when it was no longer interesting. Adam was a good boy though and he’d do anything to be wanted, needed, useful. Even pick-up a chair and go against his better nature. The waves of frustration, internal conflict his own actions created, broke him until all that was left was a defensive, angry man biting at any hand that came too close. So, Adam no longer recognized who he was in the mirror. BJ Whitmer didn’t want to see ROH Champion Adam Page, he just wanted someone to carry his bags.

Falling in line with Cody was like falling into an old groove, well worn and well-trodden. When Cody handed that chair to Adam, he knew exactly what to do with it. How to hold Kenny fast and to twist his head so he’d see his incoming braining. Years ago Adam had been wounded and he had never healed. The blood festered and boiled, a slit through his throat hemorrhaging down his bruised chest. Cody stuck his finger in Adam’s festering resentment and anxiety, dug out his trachea. Weaponized Adam’s unspoken fear that Kenny Omega thought he was better than Adam Page and he was using Adam like BJ did two years ago. When Kenny ripped the US title from Adam’s hands and handed it back to Jay White —who he thought they all hated anyway— it was like a slap in the face. That was his moment, Cody declared, he ruined, he stole it. It took a couple of drop kicks from Kota Ibushi and a V-trigger he couldn’t technically remember, for Adam to realize he’d been played. Cody brought Adam no closer to his moment and Adam had ruined his closest friendships. All for a stupid belt.

Kenny never remarked on all of it, probably because he thought Adam too pitiful to deserve admonishment. Or, that his loyalty could be bartered for with games of Mario Tennis. So long as Adam stayed in line and kept his mouth shut, they were fine. Or, maybe Kenny was more forgiving than Adam gave him credit for. That was too much logic for his brain to handle these days, though.

His family once owned a gentle Paso Fino gelding. A sweet boy with soft brown flanks and soulful black eyes. While riding with his father Adam asked if he could cross a field with the horse, if the Paso Fino would canter. Could he persuade this gentle creature to do such a thing? His father chuckled and waxed, “of course you can, he aims to please.” And sure enough, Adam and the Paso Fino flew across the field, in the long smooth gait of the breed. It was beautiful and for a second it was like they shared a mind, but he wished his father never said those words to him. Because every so often, “he aims to please,” applies better to Adam than the horse.

FTR put a bit in Adam’s mouth and led him by the bridle for three months. Somehow their inevitable betrayal came as a shock. It had just been that drinking and joking with Kenny was nice, but the tension in the EVP room was like poison. While the Bucks sat easy, Adam was dying, and FTR, in their caring familiarity was like a breath of fresh air. He wished he could’ve been there for Kenny but he had been there for Kenny and didn’t he deserve a chance to unwind? Unwork the knife from his gut and enjoy an evening with old friends? Stupid, stupid, stupid, so stupid, so blind, so eager to please, that he’d trade real friends for fake friends. FTR played Adam’s fragile ego like a fiddle and left him in the aftermath of his own decisions. Alone and with just Kenny, who no longer wanted anything to do with him.

And after all those lessons, it was painful to realize that Adam Page was just another trinket for the Young Bucks to marvel over. A living, breathing camera stand to film BTE bits and then do the complex editing, giving a polish to the final product. That was the deal, he understood and agreed to it walking into the Bullet Club. He was to be the problem solver. The replacement big guy now that Gallows was gone. Adam beats up the enemies of the Bullet Club and he stays out of the title shot picture, good deal. A jobber they can hand a trio belt to and smirk over because the Bucks are such good guys. Adam really thought they were his friends and Adam wished he could say he used the Bucks like he used BJ but he never loved BJ like he loved Matt and Nick. It was the first time he was ever happy being a prop but it still hurt, especially the outrage in their eyes when he started thinking for himself.

How dare he become a tag-team champion when that’s what they wanted?

That was the deal though with Matt and Nick, that he stayed out of the way. Adam violated the terms and their friendship crumbled around the broken covenant.

Kenny though, out of all of these betrayals and losses which had left Adam numb to the idea that he was better off alone—

Kenny fucking hurt.

Some of the ideas lacked foundation. Some floated in the bottoms of bottles of whiskey. Some were inklings from years of standing behind a man he was never going to beat. Most of them made Adam feel like an asshole. The ideas went along the tune of:

That Adam was a shitty replacement for Kota Ibushi, the golden lover trapped on the other side of the pacific. When he was in Japan and had unwedged his head from his ass, Adam liked Kota. Kota was brilliant, a true star, and he understood, totally, why Kenny loved him. There was nothing personal or even resentful in this uninspired realization. It wasn’t jealousy. It was the truth and it was a truth Adam had to bear when Kenny let him collapse in the middle of the ring at All Out. Kota Ibushi could win a G1. Become the intercontinental and IWGP heavyweight champion all in one night. Adam couldn’t even beat Chris Jericho. Kota Ibushi was the God of wrestling and Adam Page was the dirty sinner kicked down to the dust where he belonged.

That Adam was a useful tool for Kenny. Just good enough in the ring to carry a tag-team when Kenny was at the far end of a losing streak. A good bolt of confidence, standing on the shoulders of a younger guy. Before he launched off and took the world title belt he so rightfully deserved. The gleam in Don Callis’ eye when Adam shook his hand told him that this was all part of the plan. Adam was written into the script and hit every line he was supposed to. Adam wondered if he was chosen because he was volatile and insecure, and Callis knew that would just push Kenny away. Away and towards Don Callis, and his machinations. Don used Kenny and Kenny used Adam— maybe, it was just Don all along.

That Adam was a pretty thing Kenny could flirt with. Soft, yielding, supportive, loyal, and eager to put his energy towards someone willing to take it. Like a fucking dog, or something. Hope told him there was something to the way Kenny murmured ‘cowboy’ to him in their private moments. That Kenny’s interest went beyond physical and a desire to be topped by a handsome guy like Page. The bitter reality, the pessimist and realist in him, told him it was hollow, fake, that he was being played again. Damnit, though, if he wouldn’t take those crumbs. Because he couldn’t say ‘no’ to Kenny when he smiled. Because he loves Kenny and he can't stop loving Kenny.

He truly was eager to please.

“Well, it’s okay. You can’t be number one forever anyway, right? Sometimes you gotta take a back seat, and I don’t mind taking a back seat, if it’s to you, buddy.” And Kenny had smiled and nudged his elbow, and Adam hadn’t thought about it as he fiddled with his silly little action figure. When Adam thought back on that interview and thought back on all his twisted thoughts about Kenny, he had almost broken down crying. Because he didn’t know what was true. Kenny was high-up there in his mind and Adam wasn’t sure he could ever shoot him down.

The second Adam Page snatched the title from Jay White’s hands he had known the truth. The light had shone in his eyes and he had flinched. He realized the cost of fame and fortune. The crossroads he stood at, paralyzed in fear and trembling to make a choice. Maybe, he was grateful when Jay defeated him and he could return to the darkness. However, the taste, the warmth of the light, the way his chest swelled and his heart rose, pure, innocent, like a child seeing his first snow, was addicting. Adam knew that he had to step out of the shadows. Out from behind Kenny, Cody, and the Bucks, or he would perish there in the dark. They were never going to turn around and dredge him out of the abyss.

Adam had never realized there was a choice, though: his friends or his soul. And he wonders how many times those friends had made it. How many times the Bucks chose some merch sales over him. How many times Kenny chose a title over him. He knows Cody had chosen his ego over him. Was there a balance? Someplace where you can stand in the light and have those you love with you? For flashes of moments, he sees it, in the Golden Elite, or when the Bucks flanked Kenny in the ring. The balance was called love and it could overcome all trials, or so he’s told. It could mediate the choice between yourself and others.

Yet, Adam knows he’s chosen wrong once or twice, already. So, he’s not sure that kinda love is for him.

John Silvers was on one knee, hand extended, with a goofy grin that Adam had come to appreciate. For the first time in a year, he had felt light and free. It had been nice to exist in a bubble of appreciation and warmth. Yet, there was no room to wiggle, and like a caged, fearful animal, Adam lashed-out. The wording got to him, on the following night when he was thinking about it. He said: ‘I can’t,’ and not ‘I won’t.’ Like, he was physically incapable of saying ‘yes,’ and yet the Dark Order seemed to think ‘no’ was an impossibility. How did they get so screwed-up?

Friendships come with obligations and Adam was aware he’d been shirking his. Not because he felt entitled but because he wasn’t sure he could bear the weight. That he wouldn’t take a stumbling step and collapse on his fractured bones. And that would just be a different kind of a disappointment for the Dark Order than just hearing ‘no’ right out the gate. It’d be his failure with the Bucks and Kenny all over again. Anna was right, Adam had to move on, so they could move on, and maybe it left him bitter that he couldn’t utter an apology, but that’s how things shake-out these days.

The Bucks didn’t want his apology either.

And now, that brought him back to Matt.

Matt Hardy reappeared like a literal ghost in the Summer and Adam still wasn’t sure if the whole Damascus thing was a bit or not. Just that while he sat in a warm bath, water up to his knees and bubbles floating around his elbows, he looked up Benjamin Franklin on his phone. “Franklin was a leading writer, printer, political philosopher, politician, Freemason, postmaster, scientist, inventor, humorist, civic activist, statesman, and diplomat.” Given that Adam Page’s passion since childhood was professional wrestling and throwing his delicate body through tables, none of that resonated with him. And he wasn’t sure if Matt meant he really was the reincarnation of a founding father, or if it was just an apt comparison, but something about the phrase:

‘Join or Die.’

Felt like the story of his life.

Adam’s father kept records of all the songs he listened to when he was growing up. On a rare lazy Sunday, he’d put on the vinyl and let it spin so the music filled the house. Marty Robbins sang of quick finger rangers with big irons on their hips. Waylon Jennings and Lee Greenwood, dreamed of something lost, something mournful, as they rode alone. There was a cost to independence, and beneath the wide brim hat were tired, dark eyes, haunted by those the cowboy left behind. He rode into town looking for a lost love or a home, or just some water for his horse. He’d leave as soon as the plot finished and the town was saved but while the townsfolk rejoiced their salvation, the hero slipped from the jubilee. He was looking for a place he belonged and this was not it, and Adam wondered if he kept looking because there was no place he belonged.

After Dynamite, he took shots in his living room with his dogs laid over his legs and he thought about his wording. ‘I can’t,’ he told John, because, reasons he couldn’t justify in front of an audience of five thousand. So, it seemed fitting that this odd friendship he developed, with another group looking to use him and throw away, began with Matt Hardy. Began when he eliminated the iconic legend from the ring and ended with Matt Hardy, in the ring, begging Adam not to change in the hallway.

Adam didn’t believe a single word Matt said.

He didn’t believe he was a good person who deserved to be happy. He didn’t believe that the Dark Order was awkward — it was, and that’s why he wept with whiskey last week. He didn’t believe that there were no strings attached. He didn’t believe that Matt’s intentions were good or genuine, or even kind. Hell, he never believed John Silver when he called Adam handsome and amazing because that kinda flattery was useless.

He did believe that Matt was going to use him. He did believe that when Matt Hardy brought down the other shoe it was going to hurt like hell. He did believe that by this point, Adam was so calloused, scarred, and numb, that the pain wouldn’t even register. He did believe that he was so desperate, alone, and miserable, that he’ll take any bone thrown at him. He did believe that whatever plan Matt Hardy cooked-up for him was going to end up with him back in the dirt. He did believe that he no longer cared enough about himself to care. He did believe that all he wanted was a place to hang his hat and to lace his boots.

He did believe Tony Schiavone when he said, “you should take him up on that.”

Because, shit, who wants to change by catering?

#‘The Hangman’ || Adam: IC #‘Deals with God’ || Adam: Verse #this is rock bottom ya'll #this has gotta be it

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softmoxymuffin · 5 years

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“Keeping up Defenses”

chapter 7, again just forgot to upload this here but it’s already uploaded on ao3 i’m thinking of writing 2 more chapters of this then an epilogue and maybe a collection of ficlets from deans perspective i dont know yet let me know if anyone is interested

Chapter 1: Check Please

Chapter 2: Airplanes and Automobiles

Chapter 3: Tellin’ the Folks

Chapter 4: Hot Cocoa and Surprise Hugs

Chapter 5: Breakfast Sandwiches

Chapter 6: Learning Experience

Chapter 7: Keeping up Defenses

Chapter 8: Confessions in the Bitter Cold

After their successful afternoon at the Black and Brave Wrestling Academy, he and Dean had gone home with big bright smiles on their faces. During the ride back home, Seth was sorely tempted to ask a couple of questions about the things Dean had shared with his students, but seeing the satisfied look on Dean’s face, he was not willing to be the reason to change that.

They had gone home to a semi-busy house. The drive way had been newly shoveled. The garage seemed a lot more roomier than that morning, and the kitchen was far cleaner than how they had left it earlier. The boys had walked into the living room where Hector and Brandon were both helping themselves to a couple of beers. Holly and Dd were on the floor wrapping up some Christmas presents. The TV was on to a brand new game which seemed to have gotten everyone’s attention.

“Hey, how was school?” Brandon had asked with teasing in his voice.

“I had a blast.” Dean answered as he plopped himself down on the couch right behind the female members of the Rollins family. “Best day in school I’ve ever had.” He added with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah?” Seth’s older brother just smiled before he took another sip of his beer.

“Yeah, you would say that after you scared those kids shitless.” Seth added as he got two bottles of beers, one for himself and another for Dean. He gave one to the other as he sat on the couch right next to him.

Holly with a shocked and worried face had playfully smacked Dean on the calf and asked him “What did you do?” her little smirk betraying any actual scolding from the matriarch.

“Nothing,” Dean replied innocently but his blue eyes sparkling with mirth which he tried to hide behind taking his first sip of his beer.

“He rolled out like 10 feet of barbed wire and threatened to wrestle them with it.” Seth countered with a matching smirk on his face.

“Dean!” Holly now a little more outraged and gave the older man another smack on his calf, which only made Dean laugh a little harder. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” he denied. “I never threatened them. I just thought I would give them a… unique learning experience.” He explained, even adding the air quotes on the last statement. “I doesn’t hurt to know as much as you can in this business.”

“Dean, it’s barbed wires!” the middle Rollins child pointed out. “It hurts no matter what you do with it.” He added.

But Dean only sank into the couch further as he drank his beer and quietly mumbled to himself. “You get used to it.”

Though Seth knew what Dean meant. Though Seth had seen more than his fair share of matches that showed a bloody Jon Moxley taking barbed wires, fluorescent lights, and countless other weapons to his body, and all with a giant smile to his face. Though Seth knew exactly what Dean was capable of, hearing that verbal confirmation of how numb to pain Dean had gotten to be over the years made the younger man’s chest tighten with an ache. As much has he wanted to just shake his friend from those types of thoughts, he didn’t think calling him out on it would really help. Thankfully, Seth’s stepdad had interjected before the temptation got too much.

“You got 10 feet of barbed wires to scare a bunch of kids?” Hector asked disbelievingly. “That’s a lot of dedication for a prank.” He added before raising his beer in mock toast to his houseguest.

“Finally, some appreciation.” Dean joked as he raised his own glass to the older Rollins. “But seriously, the barbed wires there for when you need it. I saw your fence getting a little rusted on the far end there. Thought you could use the replacement.” He added simply before he took another sip of his beer.

“I had been meaning to buy that-” the genuine surprise clear in Hector’s voice. “Thank you Jon. I owe you.” He raised his beer in a simple toast towards his house guest.

A toast Dean had raised back from his seat as he replied “Don’t mention it.” Before taking a drink himself.

Seth raised his eyebrows at the revelation. He like his stepfather had assumed the barbed wires were purely for the prank on the kids. That just seemed like something Dean would do. He was a prankster and doing something like making the effort to buy unnecessary hardware for a prank just seemed like him. Now knowing that his friend actually went out of his way to, again, buy something his family had unknowingly needed was made his chest warm with affection.

The warm camaraderie of the living room was broken with the sudden and somewhat loud ringtone of Taylor Swift’s ‘Never Getting Back Together’ coming from the phone on the coffee table. The phone Seth recognize to belong to his younger sister Dd. Dd who then made an annoyed sigh as she tried to ignore the ringing phone and continue with her gift wrapping.

“D, come on pick it up or put it on silent mode. We’re trying to watch the game.” Brandon had complained.

Mumbling a curt ‘fine’ under her breath, Dd took her phone only to reject the incoming call and put her phone on silent before putting it down and going back to her work. The Rollins family, with Dean, enjoyed another 5 minutes of watching the game before the phone began to rang again. This time vibrating incessantly on the glass counter top. The whole family seemed to clearly made a collective effort to ignore the ringing until the youngest member could make a decision on what to do with it.

This collective agreement was either lost on Dean or he had actively disregarded for putting his beer down and grabbing the phone in his hand. Dd to her credit tried to grab it before the other man could take it, but was too slow to do anything. Everyone was on the edge of insisting Dean to not do anything and just give it back, but again no one was quite fast enough to stop the man.

“Hello,” Dean had answered casually with a thick and over the top Texan accent. “This here’s Zeke for Sex and Sound, your number one source for all-male erotic voice play. How may I help you darlin?” Dean had drawled out so effortlessly the whole Rollins family could not decide how to react.

Brandon practically shot beer out his nose. Hector, for all his stoicism, just seemed both confused and disturbed by what he was hearing. Holly was scandalized but seemed to be curious about what was going to unfold. Dd went from being upset and embarrassed had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop herself from laughing her head off. Seth froze in his seat. His jaw dropping at Dean’s audacity to not only pick up his sister’s phone, presumably presumedly intercepting a call from her ex, and then to pretend to be a phone sex operator in front of his whole family like he was just ordering pizza.

“Oh hello Ryan, what can I do you for?” Dean drawled sexily with a smirk on his lips and twinkling in his eyes. He had winked for a split second towards Dd before he continued. “Nope. No Dd here Ryan… But you know what I got a big D right over here just for you.” He had teased which forced everyone in the room to suppress giggles. “Oh calm down sugar… no need to get all testy. Unless you’re into that sort of stuff then well…” Dean’s smile just seemed to get bigger as he played the role. “Well you know what, with an attitude like that sounds even a good ole’ fucking ain’t gonna cure that. Scumbags like you give dick a bad name… so unless you want me to bill you for the filth you’re spewing in my direction right now, then I suggest you quit calling this number or you’ll be expecting a whole different kind of fucking going your way, sugar.” He made an exaggerated kissing sound before he hung up the phone and handed it over to a stunned Dd.

Now the whole Rollins family was frozen. None of them knew how to process what they had just heard. Even Seth was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact his best friend had made up some ridiculous sexed up Matthew McConaughey accent to scare off his sister’s asshole ex. It was fucking glorious.

“Goddamn…” Hector was the first to break the silence. His eyes fixated on Dean as if he had just grown a second head or something.

“That was amazing!” Brandon had finally spoke up after recovering from choking on his beer. “Holy crap!”

“Brandon! Language!” Holly had called out before lightly patting Dd on her shoulder and motioned towards Dean. “Dd do you have something to say?”

“Oh my God, thank you so much!” she said excitedly as he quickly got to her feet and surprised Dean by giving him a tight hug.

Seth was still kind of frozen on the spot after what had happened, but the way his sister too easily wrapped her arms around Dean’s neck made the warmth in him started to chill. He could only stare as his best friend awkwardly tried to return the hug without leaving his sitting position on the couch. A shy tight lipped smile on his face as he leaned forward on to Dd’s shoulders just before she let go and went back to the floor.

“He’s been driving me insane since yesterday. Couldn’t get rid of him.” Dd explained. “You really didn’t have to do that Dean.” he added.

“Don’t sweat it kitten. Assholes like that need to be put in their place. Let me know if he tries to call you again, I’m sure I can get Zeke out for another round.” Dean said with a flirty wink towards the girl.

That chill in Seth now ran cold. Oddly enough he doubted it was the fact that it was his sister that was getting his friend’s attention that made him feel that way. It was something else Seth couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew he didn’t like how it felt.

It was fairly quite for the rest of the night. Holly and Hector went to make dinner while the rest of them stayed in the living room to continue watching TV. After the game Seth decided to leave, thinking he might just need to rest before dinner started. He had turned back before going upstairs, his invitation for Dean to hangout dying on his lips as he watched his sister take his place on the couch as the rest went ahead and started to choose a movie for all of them to enjoy. Seth bit his tongue and quietly went to his room. That weight in his chest just seemed to only get heavier.

That night Seth had another dream. Again they were at the steakhouse. Again their had their steak and eggs. Again their waiter had assumed they were a couple, but this time the mention only made Seth smile. They fast forward to being in their room. Their clothes excitedly taken off each other. Their hands never getting enough of each other’s skin. Lips so insistent but soft kissing each other breathless. Seth found himself pushed to the bed as he stared up watching Dean standing over him. His body looking so strong and warm and inviting. Heat practically radiated off of him. Then dream Dean spoke, or was it Zeke?

“Sugar, you’re the prettiest goddamn thing I had ever seen…” he drawled before climbing on the bed and crawling towards him.

All that heat Seth had felt suddenly dissipated. A sense of dread overcoming him. It was Dean’s face inching closer towards him. It was his body. It was him. Seth wanted it to be him, but it wasn’t. Seth tried to crawl away, only meeting the headboard. His face coming closer and closer for a kiss. This dream Dean slowly growing more and more unfamiliar to him. This Dean being all show and nothing more. Exaggerated expressions and over the top voice. Dream Dean was not his Dean. He was not Seth’s Dean. He was not his. Not his. Not his. Not his…

Seth shot out of bed that morning. His body covered in sweat. His lungs aching for breath. His chest even heavier than he had felt the night before. He tried to lay back down and go back to sleep but every time he closed his eyes he only got visions of the Dean in his dream, or nightmare. Those last words ringing through his head again and again. Seth forced himself out of bed and took a much needed shower. All he needed was to start his day. That’s all he needed. It’s what he needed.

After hurriedly got dress and much like how he started the day before he made his way towards Dean’s room. He knocked on the door like yesterday, and like yesterday he heard nothing back. He opened the door then once again welcomed by the sparse look of the room; desk hardly touched, the bed made. Nothing in the room suggested an occupant other than a neatly packed bags in the corner. Seth quickly left and made his way downstairs.

“Hey mom, where’s Dean?” the question like déjà vu to his ears.

“Good morning sweetie, you missed breakfast.” Holly answered as she was putting away the last dish she had just washed.

“Huh?” It was only then that Seth looked up at their wall clock; 10:34am. He hadn’t realized how much he overslept. “Oh, sorry mom.” He apologized and gave him mom a quick peck on the cheek before getting himself a cup of coffee.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked innocently.

Quick flashes of his dream ran through his head. Dream Dean’s flirty smile mocking him from deep in his subconscious. To be honest he hadn’t slept well, but his mom didn’t have to know about that.

“Good.” He lied.

“Well, I had put some of the leftovers in the oven” she motioned towards the food.

“Oh, thanks mom.” He replied as he made his way towards the oven and took a quick look inside. A nice little spread was left in front of him that made his stomach grumble. Before he took anything he asked his mom again “Hey mom, have you seen Dean?”

“Oh, he already left.” She answered as she folded the dishtowels. “He went out with Dd.” She added.

Seth suddenly lost his appetite.

“They went out?” he asked and was only answered with his mom’s curt nod. “Where’d they go?” he asked.

“Well Dd said she was headed to the mall for some last minute shopping.” She explained. “Dean had forgotten about shopping altogether and asked if she could join her.”

Dean asked if he could join her.

Seth closed the oven door abruptly at that. The sight of the food making his stomach feel worse. He opted to get himself a cup of coffee and hoped the hot beverage would be enough to ease his gut.

“Not hungry sweetie?” she asked.

“Nah, I’m good.” He lied again, hiding his face behind his coffee mug. “Hey, where’s dad and Brandon.”

“Oh they went out to fix that whole in the fence Dean had spotted.” She answered. “That was really sweet of him to buy that for us. Think your dad wants to offer to pay him back for the wire.”

Yeah, Dean was sweet, Seth thought as a smile slowly creeped to his lips. A smile he quickly erased with another sip of scalding coffee, wanting it to replace the that bloom of warmth in his chest.

“I’m gonna go and lend them a hand.” He quickly said as he went to put on his boots and jacket before leaving.

“Oh ok, are you sure sweetie?” she asked worriedly. “You didn’t eat anything.”

“I’m fine mom.” He lied for the third time before he opened the door and walked out.

Dean asked if he could join her. Those words made the pit in Seth’s stomach feel even worse. It really shouldn’t though. Dean wasn’t his to keep. The other man was not obligated to stay by Seth’s side. He certainly didn’t need to ask permission to leave. He definitely could leave with just about anyone, including Seth’s sister.

Should Seth really be surprised though? Ever since he’s been friends with the other wrestler his younger sister had an embarrassing crush on the other man. Seth had always thought it was just her way of irritating him; mentioning how hot people he had to work with were. Dean wasn’t exactly the first guy his sister set her eyes on. Why should he worry either

Like, yes he has seen Dean flirt. He had seen him charm the pants on many a women. Dean had always had this cool cockiness about him. He’d give them that bright smile, show off his dimples, and use those baby blue eyes of his. Dean was incredibly attractive. Seth was not blind to that fact. He had just never considered it until now.

Even if they went out. It didn’t mean anything. They went to the mall for gods sake. They went out to buy Christmas presents. Of course Dean had not gifts prepared, this whole trip was unplanned. It was obvious he’d need to buy stuff. Who else better than his sister to bring shopping with. Who else should have Dean brought shopping with? Really who?

Dean was not his. Words from his dream seemed to creep up on him and took a hold of his heart. The ache he had felt I the pit of his stomach spreading all over. Seth wished the bitter cold of winter and maybe the strain on his muscles from hard work would be good enough to distract him from the confusion in his head and the ache in his middle.

He finally reached the far end of their back fence. His stepdad and Brandon working on the old barb wire had rusted through. Though Dean had only spotted one area that really needed the repair, Hector had decided to go from one end of the fence to the other and fix what needed to be fixed. They had the extra wire, they might was well used it. The prospect of finally fixing their whole fence made the patriarch smile, while it made Brandon groan. He more than once mentioned how this was not something he was expecting for his Christmas vacation. It was fair to say Brandon did not get any sympathy from either Hector and Seth.

They had ended up working until mid-afternoon. Following the fence and making sure they had fixed everything right up. Seth could feel the cold soaking through his skin. The ache seeping through his bones. But it was better than how he had felt a couple of hours earlier. He actually had the chance to forget about what was bothering him. He thought that was enough to calm his nerves for the rest of the day.

That plan shot out of the window when the first thing he saw walking back into their house was Dean and Dd sitting down at the dining room table having a couple cups of coffee. That ache in his gut came back in full force.

“Hey man,” Dean greeted. “How goes the repair?”

Before Seth could say anything, Hector had jumped in and answered for them. “It was great. All that barbed wire you bought had really helped Dean. Thank you.”

“Well I’m glad it helped.” He smiled to the older man. “Was worried I bought too much, but can you believe they sell that stuff in 10 feet coils now? Couldn’t get anything less than that.” He complained.

“It was more than enough, went out and fixed the fence end to end.” Hector announced happily before getting a cup of coffee himself.

“Yeah Dean, thanks a lot.” Brandon said sarcastically, but clearly just fooling around with them. “Hadn’t realized how damn long our fence was until today.”

“Quit whining! It’s good for you to actually get yourself working.” Seth replied to his older brother.

Seth took his time and waited for his turn at the coffee machine, all the while staring at the Dean and Dd seated somewhat close to each other talking low about something that made Dean smile.

“So!” Seth may have said a little too loudly. “How was the mall?” he asked more towards Dean.

“It was great.” Dd was the one who answered. “Hadn’t realized they added so much to the place. It was really great. Got a ton of stuff for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Seth asked dumbly.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” Dd answered, and when her brother didn’t seem to get the hint she elaborated. “The Christmas party. For the guys at the wrestling school. At your café. Mom’s been prepping for it for weeks. Did you forget?”

Seth completely forgot. Since starting Black and Brave they’ve had a yearly Christmas party celebrating the past year. This year he had actually added a new venture of starting a small café near the academy. A nice little coffee shop for their community. It wasn’t an official opening, but it was his mom’s idea to have a soft opening just for them to celebrate the holidays as well as the new business. Seth felt like an asshole for forgetting, and he was sure it had shown on his face.

“Wow, and here I was thinking you just forgot to invite lil ole’ me.” Dean teased as he took another sip of his coffee. When Seth hadn’t smiled at the teasing Dean backtracked and said. “Don’t sweat it man. You’ve been really busy and worked up over stuff. Everything’s going to be fine. Go grab a coffee and a doughnut here.” He said comfortingly as he motioned to the small spread of sweets they must have gotten from the mall.

Seth did his best to calm down. After everything that’s been going on he couldn’t believe he had forgotten about the Christmas party and the coffee shop. He had been so distracted he forgot. He finally got the chance to take a cup of coffee for his own. He took the free seat right next to Dean and was just about to get a doughnut for himself when Dd squealed.

“You will not believe how many people are commenting on my post right now. It’s insane.” She said as she shoved her phone towards Seth.

“Still have no idea why anyone would be interested in that.” Dean said before taking a bite of his doughnut.

“Because my friends are freaking out about who my mystery date was for today.” She said with a big smile.

It wasn’t until Seth had actually taken a good hard look at the Instagram post his sister was referring too. It was generic Instagram picture for sure. It had the soft filter and the non-descript background. It was the subject of the photo that really got Seth’s attention. It was Dd’s hand clasping another. Though there was hardly any hint to the man attached, Seth knew instantly. It was Dean’s hand. In the caption below it said ‘shopping with someone special’ followed by a few emojies of red and pink hearts and yellow smiles.

For the second time that day, Seth suddenly lost his appetite to eat. He resided himself to quietly finishing his coffee and saying goodbye to everyone before heading back upstairs. If he thought his body felt heavy right after fixing the fence, it was nothing compared to how down and out he felt at that moment as he practically dragged his feet back to his bedroom.

He landed on his bed with a disappointed whoosh, letting the weight of his limbs and everything he was feeling just pull him to bed. Seth felt like all that hard work was for nothing. He was glad to be of helped. He was glad to have spent the afternoon with his family. He should be glad for the somewhat productive day he’s had, but he can’t. The ache in his chest just wouldn’t let him.

He just felt defeated by his emotions. Logically he knew it most likely meant nothing. Just another ploy for Dd to get back at her ex. He knew that it was just a shopping trip to the mall. He knew that if anything was going on Dean would be the first one to tell him. He knew that it was nothing. He knew. Did he?

A knock at the door startled him from his overthinking. He didn’t even have the energy to angrily shout at whoever was at the other side. He knew deep down that no matter how shitty he was feeling right now, he shouldn’t be taking it out on anyone.

He slowly got out of bed and made his way to open the door only to be met with the one person that he really could not stand to look at right now.

“You ok?” Dean asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” Seth needed to get better at lying. “Just not feeling well. Must be from all the work.”

“-Or it might be from the hunger.” The other wrestler countered as he got out a plate of goodies for him. “Your mom said you hadn’t eaten anything since this morning.”

It was only then that Seth really felt the emptiness in his stomach. He had been much too upset to even realize it until now.

“Thank you,” he said sheepishly as he took the plate offered to him.

“You’re welcome.” Dean replied, and before he turned to leave he asked. “Are we cool?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” another lie.

“I mean, you haven’t really talked to me all day. Just wanted to make sure.” He answered.

“I mean you’re the one who left with Dd.” Seth said without thinking, the hurt look on Dean’s face making him regret his words instantly.

“Is that what this is about? Seth, seriously?” He answered exasperatedly. Seth looked at him with a somewhat clueless but sad expression. “Seth it was just a shopping trip to the mall. I needed help to buy stuff and Dd was already heading there so I decided to ask for her help.” He explained.

Seth looked at him suspiciously, he already knew all of this even without Dean saying it. He knew, but he still felt the need to hear it from Dean. “And that photo was what?”

“That was just to mess with her ex.” Dean answered. “It didn’t mean anything. Hell even she knows that.”

“You sure?” he just had to ask.

“Yeah Seth, I’m sure.” Dean’s irritated tone ringing through more strongly now, but when Seth didn’t seem to budge from the issue he added “I’m not interested in your sister Seth.”

“Well maybe you’re not.” He countered.

That made Dean fold his arms to his chest and asked “What are you trying to say?”

“I mean…” What was Seth trying to say, he stuttered with his words. “I- well- I just mean, you might. You know. Give her the wrong idea.”

Dean raised both eyebrows with surprise, his blue eyes clearly showing his hurt and confusion. “You think I could do that to her? -Wow, didn’t realize how much of douche you thought I could be.” The blond fidgeted in his place, not able to look at Seth in the eye.

Seth didn’t understand until now how accusatory he had been sounding towards Dean. Of course he would never have thought Dean would take advantage of his sister, but it was too late it had already been said.

“Dean I-” Seth tried to explain himself.

“Save it Seth,” he turned to walk away but before he did he added. “You know what, she’s a lot smarter than you give her credit for. Might actually learn a thing or two from her.” He said condescendingly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Seth asked.

“Nothing,” he answered. “Should I leave now?” he asked.

Somehow deep inside him Seth knew Dean was not asking to leave the hallway, nor leave his sight. Seth had a overwhelming feeling that he meant leave for good and no matter how bad he was aching before, the thought of Dean leaving was worse.

“No,” he answered. He had put his plate down on the nearest flat surface in his room and carefully approached the other man. Carefully he wrapped his hand around Dean’s wrist. “Stay.”

“You sure? Coz it sounds like you don’t want me here.” He replied.

“I do.” You have no idea how much. He thought but could not say. “I want you to stay… please.”

Dean seemed to soften right before his eyes. The tension from his body seemed to fade away. The anger on his face making way to calmness. It was only then that Seth realized how close he was to losing him.

“You sure?” he had to make sure again.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He answered with a soft smile. “Plus my mom would kick my ass if I kicked you out. Especially before the Christmas party.” He joked.

“Well, you’re mom can totally whip your ass.” Dean agreed with a chuckle. “You still want me there?”

“Of course I do.” Seth wasn’t sure if he ever wanted him to leave. “I want you there.”

Dean shrugged it off simply as if making the decision final in his head before saying “Ok,” then made the move to walk away but before that had to ask. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Just hungry I guess.”

“Well eat up,” Dean replied. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll go get it for you.” He added as he started to talk back down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Seth stood there dumbly wishing he knew how to tell Dean exactly what he wanted, but just could not risk the possibility of never having it, or worse losing what little he has now.

How do you tell someone they are all they have ever wanted without making them run for the hills?

#blagamuffin writes stuff #check please series #ambrollins #ambrollins fic #i like seeing them fall in love #who can blame them #again seth is still overthinking shit up #dean is just trying to be himself #plus i think dean's got a wickedly sexy voice #hmmmmmmmmmm

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omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 5 years

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NSFW #19: The Collected

The room was very dark and unfamiliar, windowless. A single light, harsh in contrast, was illuminating the disturbing sight of NSFW, unconscious and tied up back to back while seated on a pair of rather uncomfortable looking wooden chairs. The scene was quiet, the only sound the occasional drip of water, or perhaps the squeak of a scurrying rat. A moment passed, and our heroes began to come around, looking a rather concerned at their predicament. Mike spoke first, her cap slouched at an angle- it appeared that whoever kidnapped the two of them had the decency to put it back on her head. “Nnnngh… Church? You okay, bud?” John opened up his eyes slightly. His mind felt like mush. He mumbled his response. “Not really.” “Don’t worry. I’m right here, we’ll find a way out of this.” She was taking a brave stance, it seemed, for the sake of her partner if nothing else, but her own expression was a bit wide-eyed and nervous looking. She glanced around, trying to glean anything about their location from what little she could see. There were vague shapes in the dark, but nothing beyond the boundaries of the single light was anything that Mike could make out for certain. Suddenly, a door opened and slammed shut, a cascade of footfalls echoing down an unseen stairway, a long shadow falling over the captive Tag Team Champions. “Michelle McGuire. John Bishop Church. I see you’re awake. Good. I only slipped the two of you a mild sedative. I wouldn’t want any harm to come to my newest acquisitions… yet.” The voice was a rich, warm baritone, the sort that sounded as if it belonged to a well known gay rights activist. Or perhaps a legendary sci-fi actor. Or perhaps both assumptions were only coincidental. “But I am being rude. Allow me to introduce myself. I… am The Collector.” The pair stared at him blankly. Then back at each other best they could manage. Back to their captor again. “...I’m sorry, who?” “The Collector! The greatest mastermind that professional wrestling has ever seen!” Mike looked thoughtful, lips pursed into a ‘hmmm’ of concentration. Then she shook her head. “No, seriously, who are you? I’ve never fuckin’ heard of you.” The shadow threw its arms up in frustration, the voice taking on a distinct edge of indignation. “You mock the Collector? The most feared manager in the world? I have traveled this entire sorry planet, assimilating the best fighters into my personal collection. From the arid deserts of Mexico, to the flowering cherry orchards of Japan, to the frozen tundras of Canada. I have taken the best from them all, and now I have come for America. All of the best Earth warriors will belong to me!” He cackled richly. John, for whatever reason, was nodding along. “He seems nice.” “Church. He wants to keep us as pets, or fuckin’ eat us, shit, maybe he wants to make us part of some weird concubine, I don’t know.” “Oh.” With their kidnapper’s clear lack of niceness clarified, Mike turned her attention back to the sinister man casting his shadow over them. Her brows knit, and suddenly a look of recognition dawned over her. “Wait a fuckin’ sec, I know who this guy is! … Dude, didn’t your team just lose? To a team containing Emma Louise? I mean, granted, she’s on a real fuckin’ hot streak lately. Maybe that’s what happens when one of your clients is a misogynist dickhole and the other won’t shut up about food porn.” “Oh, these guys.” Mike’s face paled a bit. “Church, shit, it’s even worse than I thought. We ain’t just been kidnapped… we’ve been kidnapped by losers!” There was a deafening thwack on a wooden surface in front of them. The veiled man trembled with anger. “Silence, fools! I didn’t forcefully invite you to my palatial estate in Boca Raton to discuss the past. We are here to discuss the future. Your futures, particularly.” “Shit! We’re still in Florida? We gotta be in North Carolina by Monday, dude!” “If we don’t show up we’re gonna be in big trouble.” A thoughtful pause. The bigger man raised his eyebrows in mild concern. “Look what happened to the Volsung Death Squad.” “Enough! You no longer need to worry about any of the Carolinas. You see, The Criterion has done exactly what we’ve been asked to do and that is eliminate our opponents.” Mike smirked a bit. “Hang on a sec. You’re the Collector, yeah? And your little group, you call ‘em Criterion. … Does that make them the fuckin’ Criterion Collection?” “Oh, that reminds me. You know that movie we watched the other night?” “...the weird arthaus-y thing?” There is a glimmer of appreciation in John’s eyes and he began to speak in a tone that lended to fond memories. “Did you know that the inspiration for Cries and Whispers was Ingmar Bergman’s very own mother? Anyway, that family. They went through so much. They could have learned a lot from Agnes and maybe they did after the fact.” “Wait, wait, this was the one with the three sisters, and the dying one was cuddling the maid’s boobs, and one of them cut the shit out of her own hoo-ha to turn off her husband?” Another thwack! “Shut up! So, you enjoyed watching a little sisterly bonding, eh? Then perhaps you’ll enjoy…this!” The lights to the left of the room suddenly clicked on, revealing two large glass tubes, the frozen, terrified forms of Aimee and Ruby Clifton within them. The glass was just frosted enough to obscure the details of their features but easily revealing their palms against the glass, their wide eyes, their parted, screaming lips. Mike herself didn’t scream, but she did gasp, her expression both horrified and slightly nauseated. The Collector’s maniacal laugh filled up the dank basement like black balloons. “You crazy fucker, you killed them! What the fu--- oh my fucking God!” John’s eyes were wide and full of a bleak terror. Mike voiced that abject reaction for the both of them until he could only mutter in a breathless voice. “Oh my.” “Indeed! The Clifton Sisters stand before you as monument as to why I, The Collector, am not to be trifled with! And soon enough, when the time of the Criterion’s victory is nigh, you will join them!” Mike stared at the encased bodies of the two women, speechless for a time before, very unlike her, bursting into wild sobbing. “Son of a bitch! You fuckin’ monster! They had their whole careers ahead of them! They never even got to win a match!” John was in so much shock that he didn’t really react. “And what about the rest of them? Lynx Boyd. She’s a Clifton, too. Except she’s not. I think?” “And what about Paul? Their big brother is going to be so fuckin’ sad!” “And their parents in Ohio. I mean, they’re already in Ohio, and this happens?” “And their other siblings! Joanie, and Chachi, and Melvin, and Gunter, and Lucy, and Ricky, and Richie, and Potsie, and Donder, and Blitzen, and Gilligan, and the rest…” “Melvin Clifton already passed away so he’s been spared of this horrible news.” “They’re never going to be Tag Team Champions now!” John’s shoulders shrugged, the ropes loosening just a little as his frame went inwards. “They were never going to be Tag Team Champions anyway.” “Oh, I agree, John Bishop Church. That is why they had to go. But you heard my Yeshwa. Just like Curtis Mars and Emma Louise, The Clifton Sisters were mere stepping stones to our greatest achievement. Becoming Tag Team Champions.” “But you lost.” “So this plan’s kind of already been whizzed down your leg. I mean it’s kind of refreshing to see some real ambition, but ambition only takes you so far if you don’t produce. Ambition without production just makes your boys a pack of arrogant dicks. And you. You’re just as fucking bad. I’ve seen dozens and dozens like you. You’re probably some has been or never was, looking to soak up glory from young guns more talented than you ever were, like some overgrown sponge. What are you going to do when the guys you’re living vicariously through don’t go fucking anywhere? Get new guys? Or perish like a fucking dog?” The Collector’s voice became hysteric with umbrage at Mike’s newfound hostility. “You are in no position to speak to me as you are right now, you pathetic wretch! You think one loss derails our master plan?” “No, of course not. If it did, we wouldn’t be where we are now.” John looked around. “Figuratively. Anyway, Yeshwa made all of these promises that he failed to keep. He couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain. You threw two guys together who had probably just met each other and expected positive results? The big guy? He seemed like he didn’t even know what type of match he was in.” “No matter! My collection is vast and Yeshwa will be paired with a more suitable partner this time. A man who captured a glorious first victory. NSFW, you will suffer greatly when my samoan destroyer tears you limb from limb.” “Your tall, handsome drink of water, huh? I’ve seen better. But I’ll give you that he’s got more on the ball than your other big guy, that’s for sure. Least, that’s what I thought till I heard him run his yap about Joe Doe. I mean, shit. What kind of chump dumps on a guy who puts in the work week after week, and every week gets just a little bit better?” Mike’s eyes flashed as if finding this oversight insulting. John interjected his feelings into the matter. “Antoni won. But Joe will be back. That’s the kind of young man he is. Now Antoni has to come to a realization. He teams with a man who couldn’t pull it together after all of those grandiose statements about destruction and remembrance. And he faces a team that since they have debuted have only been pinned but one time. That has ran through every challenger and would-be challenger to those so desired tag team championships through hard work and sheer determination.” “He’s got that on his own. I see that in him under the thick level of jerkassitude. But the thing is, he’s one guy. And Yeshwa, he may have lost, but maybe he’s got some spark in there we haven’t seen yet. But the truth still stands. These are two guys. Two guys who just got smacked together by you, Mister Collector. What prayer can they possibly stand against us? Two people who’ve spent almost a year now backing each other up and learning everything about each other? Your boys can’t say that. But you know who can? The team you’ve already written off.” John bucked slightly against the ropes, feeling the desired result come through. “We faced The Clifton Sisters and in their eyes we saw a hunger to become the best. Mike and I weren’t just going to give way to them. And unfortunately for them, they fell short. But they only had one thing to say afterwards.” “Ruby goes and says, ‘You haven’t seen the last of us. I promise you that.’ without skippin’ a fuckin’ beat.” “And considering our present company, we could blow that off as the cartoony words of a villain that is always meant to lose. But I believe them.” “I wasn’t blowing smoke up their asses when I told them they were welcome to try again anytime, and here they are, answering it like true fucking challengers. Are they gonna beat us? Not if we can help it, but they can sure’s fuck try, as many times as they want. And long’s they do? We’ll respect them for it.” Suddenly, John stood up. The ropes fell to his feet nonchalantly. “To be honest, not sure we should afford your team the same respect. I’m sure they’re capable enough. But collectively, their views on this business are toxic.” Giving a twist of her wrists, Mike knocked her own ropes away and followed suit. “And the absolute last thing this industry of ours needs is more goddamn toxicity.” “What? How did you two escape? My knots are impeccable! You two were to be the pinnacle of my glorious collection! Eliminated by my greatest warriors!” Mike scoffed. “Between us? We got those things undone like five minutes ago. Your traps suck and so do you. Now where’s your bathroom? I gotta piss like a racehorse.” The Collector faded back into the darkness, resigned in his humiliation. “Up the stairs and to the left.” “Good. Thanks. Now get outta my way!” The Bronx brawler charged up the stairs, her partner following, footsteps heavier and more deliberate. The Collector was left alone with his sad collection of papier mache trophies, and the yelling from upstairs. “Fuck, man, this place is nice! Can see the beach and everything! You gotta finish that basement, it’s gotta be bringing down your property values. … Church, you need to check out this crapper, it’s got a fucking bidet!” “No thanks. This place smells like menthol candies.” The sound of a flushing toilet echoed through the basement plumbing as the picture faded to black.

#archive

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ghostofviperwrites · 4 years

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The Ungovernable Ones - Chapter 11 - The Tranquillo One

Featuring: Los Ingobernables de Japon

Category: Smut

Warnings for the series: explicit language, explicit sexual content, dubious consensual encounters, manipulation

The past two days you had felt like you were in the twilight zone as Naito’s uncharacteristic behavior continued. On time. Dressed appropriately. Studying film at night. No women. It was strangely unsettling preventing you from enjoying his compliance. The only thing that convinced you that you hadn’t stepped into an alternate dimension was the rest of LIJ acting as usual. Evil was a complete dick. Bushi pretty much stayed away from you. Hiromu continued trying to play mind games with you. Sanada continued the silent treatment.

This morning was different. They were all missing. There was nothing on calendar, so you weren’t panicking yet, but as you came up empty in Evil’s room, the final room you had to check you were getting worried. It was the morning, so it wasn’t like they were off at some club. Running your fingers through your hair you paced around Evil’s room trying to figure out where your wayward charges had disappeared to. They had all been present and accounted for last night. Hiromu the last to wander in just after two in the morning. This morning, vanished. If their belongings weren’t still present, you would have assumed they had ran off on you.

Heading down to the lobby you decided you would head to the arena and try to get caught up on some much overdue paperwork. You enjoyed the quiet ride by yourself. It had been so long since you had been without at least one of them in the car. Even Sanada’s silence was oppressive. You couldn’t relax with him in the car, feeling like he was constantly judging you and finding you lacking.

Arriving at the evening’s venue you parked in the talent garage and headed inside. The last thing you expected to find when you walked into LIJ’s designated locker room was the entire stable gathered around Naito who had multiple computer monitors hooked up to his laptop. Each of them had notepads, or in Sanada’s case an IPAD he was using with a stylus, taking studious notes as Naito spoke rapidly gesturing towards one screen then another.

They didn’t even glance in your direction as you entered mouth agape at the detail Naito was spouting with the others chiming in periodically. You sank onto the couch, paperwork forgotten as you witnessed for the first time outside of the ring Los Ingobernables being entirely focused on wrestling. You found yourself staring at Naito as he talked, animation in his face as he gestured and explained moves and it captured your attention. You had never seen him so passionate and it struck a chord in you. Shaking off those fanciful thoughts you turned your focus on your papers every so often found your gaze drawn to the leader of Los Ingobernables. You smiled as Hiromu pulled Naito’s ever present black LIJ cap off his head only to have it snatched back and put on backwards. Naito’s smile in that moment had to be the first genuine smile you had seen on him and you honestly felt tingles in your stomach as he indulgently ruffled Hiromu’s hair.

It was a rare unguarded moment for the men and you almost felt like you were intruding. You were pretty sure they had forgotten you were even in the room, even Sanada laughing as Hiromu pushed him playfully. Your suspicions were confirmed when your stack of papers slipped off your lap as you watched, landing in a mess on the floor. Immediately their attention was on you, all joviality sucked from the air. You hated the way Sanada’s face transformed back into his ever-present mask. Now that you had seen him just being with his brothers you weren’t satisfied with the cold countenance.

“I’m so sorry,” You muttered getting on your knees to gather up the papers, cognizantly aware of the attention you still had focused on you. You cursed your clumsiness as you scrambled. Sensing he had lost their attention Naito dismissed the guys for a break. They had already been holed up for hours. He knew they had pent up energy they needed to go let out.

You backed out of the way as Evil and Sanada grabbed their gear deciding to head down to the ring to work on some new tag moves. Hiromu and Bushi decided to make a run to the corner café, taking Naito’s order to bring him back lunch when he declined their invitation to join.

Sitting back at the table, Naito began writing notes once again sinking into his work. You had this newfound fascination with him as you watched his hands flow across the paper, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he narrowed his eyes in concentration.

“You really enjoy this don’t you?” You had to ask, your curiosity driving you to interrupt him. You were treated to the all too familiar glare of Naito as he raised his head to look at you.

“Yes.” He said shortly looking back down at his pad of paper.

“Your passion is just amazing,” You gushed once again regaining his attention. This time he looked at you differently. Shrewdly as if delving into your mind.

“It is amazing,” He said with a smirk that had you blushing before he effectively dismissed you by turning his attention to the laptop and turning up the volume on the match they had been watching.

“Do you do this often?” You asked loudly to be heard over the match shrinking back as another irritated glance came your way.

“Once or twice a month.” He replied. “Now, I’m working. Can you shut up?”

You didn’t know what had come over you. Studious quiet Naito had captivated you. As had the brief glance of playful older brother Naito you had gotten a glimpse of earlier. You had never really thought him your type. You recognized he was attractive, but you hadn’t been drawn to him. Until now.

“I’m sorry, I’m just curious.” You said receiving a loud sigh of irritation.

“What’s your definition of shut up? Cause it doesn’t seem to be matching mine.” Naito snapped tossing down his pen in irritation. “go on, spit out all the questions so I can get back to what I’m doing.”

“I’ve just never seen you so intense about something.” You said with a shrug. “I just kind of assumed you were in this for the paycheck. But watching you the last few days I’ve realized you really love this.”

“I wouldn’t dedicate my life, my body to this for a paycheck.” Naito said sounding offended. “I don’t struggle to walk in the mornings for a paycheck. You think these are a fashion statement.” He waved a hand over the ever-present bandages on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Once again you found yourself apologizing to him. “I just had a different impression of you. And then I saw you tonight with the guys and I saw another side. Why haven’t you shown that side to me?” You asked.

“Simple.” Naito said rising to exit the locker room. “You’re not family.”

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