🅷🅴🆁🅂🅃🄾🅁🅈 🅸🅸: The 🅷🅴🆁🄾 versus the Zero
Oct 30, 2022 13:54:15 GMT -5
Addy A and Alice Gemini like this
Post by Lissie Hope ♥ on Oct 30, 2022 13:54:15 GMT -5
“I like number ten.”
“Wait… how do you expect me to count these when you’ve got my brain scrambled in mush in anticipation??”
“I mean… we could just do them all.”
“God dammit, J.”
I tugged on the back of his shirt, feeling the collar choke around his neck. In his eyes, I saw urgency, even as we skidded through the aisles of the local Spirit store.
“I don’t really wanna shop for one here,” I admitted, not only finding the costumes pretty generic, but the sounds of the excited teenagers and squealing toddlers weren’t the best environment for my perverted thoughts. “I’d rather do it myself.”
“You don’t need to do it yourself -” he said, with a confident, sly grin. I bit my lower lip as I felt his hand slide along the small of my back, his fingers inching under my jeans.
“Is there a dressing room around here?”
“Pick a costume first.”
I grabbed an arbitrary one off the shelves and led the way. Wandering eyes surely picked up our intentions, but I didn’t really care. And it didn’t even matter which one I selected to begin with.
I wasn’t ever going to try it on.
I remember - so long ago - being scared shitless to stand across the ring from Oblivion. Of course, he went by Jakob Lister at the time, and I remember thinking:
“This is the guy that terrorized WCF?”
“This is the guy I was warned about?”
“This is the guy who sends shivers down spines?”
I couldn’t believe it. Here I was, thinking this man was going to tear my womb from my body, and instead – I beat the shit out of him. Quickly and easily.
The chatter that I heard about Oblivion is the exact same chatter that I hear about you, Holden. Twitter might think you’re some king of violence, but I’ve seen you in action, here in Action, and I know the truth. Your behavior backstage and your inadequacy in the ring doesn’t justify and validate this persona you’ve convinced all of them that you are.
You are not a champion of violence under the banner that matters, Holden.
We all see how transparent you are.
We all know you’re a pussy-whipped Corey Black fangirl who will never quite earn the skins on the wall needed to be accepted by the people you idolize. You can dick around with CCPE - but we all know Page fucking clowns you after he makes you fetch him a sandwich. There’s a custom pocket in Serenity’s purse for your nutsack, and you can make yourself useful by carrying it as her little glamorous ass poses for photos - but you’ll always be in the background, Holden.
You’re the guy the photographer tells to get the fuck out of the frame.
You think you can be the CBS Champion?
The television gods don’t like ugly, Holden.
And you’re fucking hideous.
We arrived back to the hotel room with our hands empty.
“What are you gonna wear to Swalloween, J?? I felt like that was a wasted trip!”
“Was it? I thought it was mutually beneficial actually.”
“Well, I certainly got what I needed out of it.”
I leaned in and pressed my lips against his, our tongues moving together as we swayed in rhythm. He pushed me up against the railing, feeling weightless as his hands moved south - I gripped my fingers around his biceps, feeling the muscles contracting as he lifted me with ease.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I whispered in his ear, as his mouth careened down my neck. I could feel his breath on my flesh, and my scent began to overshadow his cologne.
“Thank you for moisturizing my face,” he said with a grin, and I could feel myself exploding as his finger ran the inside of my jeans.
I remember - so long ago - being afraid to stand across the ring from Corey Bull.
This is a man who fucking KIDNAPPED me - but he worshipped the ground I walk on, to the point where he made a fucking effigy of me - and yet?
I would still fuck Corey Bull before I ever gave you the time of day, Holden.
Because under that traumatizing mask, there was a heart. There was no ulterior motive, and no false pretense. I knew exactly what he wanted - but you?
You sought me out, when I was most vulnerable. You shot your shot, and for a person who lives by the mantra that “you miss 100% of the joints you don’t smoke,” then why wouldn’t you? But n a state of emotional turmoil, alone in a city of demons, you thought you could be be my angel. But I saw right through you then, Holden. And I see through you now.
Andre Holmes sees through your bullshit.
Corey Black and Johnny Bacchus see through it, too.
You have so many people convinced that you’re the good guy in this story, but anyone that hasn’t killed all of their braincells sharing a room with you knows that you’re bad news, Holden. Serenity might be oblivious to how cancerous you are, but I’m not.
This locker room isn’t.
And you should know better.
You’re almost 30 fucking years old and you’re fucking around with a literal teenager.
How do you not see what we see?
I would say you’ve smoked yourself stupid, but for anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with you can attest, you already were this moronic to begin with.
And I get it. Blazing up and getting zonk’d before a big match could give someone superhuman strength. Make ‘em impervious to pain, and have the mental clarity to focus on the prize. And this is a big match, Holden. Not only is a title that you don’t deserve to even compete for on the line, but you finally get to stand across the ring from me - a two-time World Champion and future Hall of Famer - so I can understand why you want to hot-box the suite Andre pays for.
But in your case, you won’t be a superhero.
You trip over your own shoelaces and struggle counting to three, which is why you often find yourself - on your back - staring up at the lights for a second longer than needed.
That’s your story, Holden.
You’re a perpetual loser.
Under the covers, I watched his inked arms slithering around my waist, and I adjusted myself underneath, feeling his warm body take shape with mine.
“You’re incredible,” I managed to choke out, feeling my eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. He pressed his lips against the back of my shoulder, tracing his finger along my back. I felt a jolt of electricity from his touch, my heart skipping a beat.
“Is it nap time?” he teased. I could feel his heart beating through his chest, reverberating on my naked back. He wasn’t as tired as I was - my God. How could he not be?
“We have a long day ahead of us,” I said, glancing over at the clock. I knew he was just hours from taking on Holden Ross himself at the Tara Fenix Charity event.
“Are you gonna stay here tonight?” he asked. I nodded my head, leaning back into the caverns of his chest, the strands of my hair tickling his flesh.
“I’m gonna watch from here,” I told him, not wanting to be a distraction in the audience or backstage. I wasn’t on the greatest of terms with Tara Fenix, and I felt like if I made an appearance, the chatter would be about Lissie versus Holden, detracting from what all those competitors - especially Johnny - were there to do. “And I’ll be waiting for you after.”
Everyone is tired of you, Holden.
And the reason nobody in Action Wrestling will defend you is because we are the people who have seen this disturbing relationship live and in living color.
It’s… gross…
All of it…
All of you…
Nobody, not the fans at home, not the people backstage - absolutely nobody wants to hear the rattling of Serenity’s chastity belt when you dry hump her leg, just sweating chicken grease all over her.
Fucking yuck.
Fucking yuck.
You seriously give me the ick, man.
Everything about you.
And yeah - I’m done.
I can’t with you anymore.
I can’t with you anymore.
“So you’re not coming to Swalloween?”
“I… can’t.”
I stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the marquee for the Tara Fenix show. I felt a tear form when he wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“I can’t with them anymore.”
“I know,” I said with hesitance. “I just wish things were different.”
“Besides… there’ll be enough clowns competing for belts anyway.”
“You would’ve won the contest,” I said with a giggle. “Easily.”
“Just like you’re going to retain the title, tiger,” he said, pressing his lips on my shoulder. “Easily.”
