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Hate the Sinner (Never Hate the Sin) by aistic
Fandoms: Act Series - The Dear Hunter (Albums)
01 Jan 2023
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Half-hearted truths hanging in the air with the Holy Ghost
I'm singing hymns with the devil in confessional- Cascade, The Dear Hunter
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I Have to Know Your Name (Where Have I Seen Your Face Before?) by aistic
Fandoms: World Wrestling Entertainment
29 Jan 2022
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”Where’s mom and dad?” Dean says, voice sharp with contempt.
Are they family? It feels right and wrong at the same time. Seth remembers a kiss, or he thinks he does, skin against skin and a hand tangled in his hair, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. He hopes Dean’s not his brother. Hopes that whatever else is wrong with him, that one isn’t on the list.
”I... don't know?” Dean glares and it makes Seth's guts twist. He's the only familiar thing in a sea of strange and Seth feels like his life depends on his ability to appease him. "I'm sure they'd be here if they could."
It's apparently the wrong thing to say, because Dean gives a harsh, mocking laugh. "Sure they would."
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Break the Back of Love For You by aistic
Fandoms: World Wrestling Entertainment, All Elite Wrestling
03 Jan 2022
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Five years later, on the anniversary of the Shield's destruction, Dean brings a steel chair into the ring.
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Darby Allin wrestles like sombody Mox used to know, if that somebody had been ten years younger and into death matches. It's all high-flying, flippy shit, liquid speed and crazy stunts, and Mox hadn't planned on tying the kid up, but he wanted to see what Allin would do with his wings clipped. He wasn't expecting a springboard moonsault, that's for sure.
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Like Faded Photographs, Forgotten Songs by aistic for APgeeksout
Fandoms: World Wrestling Entertainment
04 Aug 2018
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Of course, it's nothing like before. Some of the old paranoia is gone, or maybe it's just changed into something subtler and more insidious. It's not them against the world anymore. In the ring it’s easy. Out of it… not so much. It’s not bad, just tense. The old familiarity is gone, replaced with something new and edged and fragile that feels like it might shatter if he looks at it the wrong way.
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That night they celebrate. Orton's eyes are splinters of ice, his knife-slash smile unimpressed, and Seth, tipsy halfway through his second glass of wine, can't tell what the pecking order is in this new faction and if he still has any leverage now that the deed is done. There's a hairline tremble in his hands that he can't shake. He blames it on the adrenaline crash.
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Embrace the Gifts of Life Unarmed by aistic for Moonspeak
Fandoms: World Wrestling Entertainment, Exalted
29 Aug 2017
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Braun Strowman picks him up and throws him into the steel steps and Roman thinks, with a flare of panic: He's not human.
He thinks: I'm going to die.
When he staggers out of the ring, bloodied and broken in ways he can't let the trainers see or they'll pull him out of action, strap him down to a gurney and send him off on another extended medical leave, his mind is reeling with it.
Nothing human hits that hard. Nothing human hates that much.
What is he?
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He wakes up alone in a hospital bed, every part of his body aching, including muscles he's not sure he could even name, and his first thought is What if I can't wrestle again?
He doesn’t know where that came from, who he is, or what happened to put him here. Car accident? Mugging? Plane crash? A fall from a four story window? Nothing rings a bell. He's relieved to find that he can move, at least. The pain is familiar, somehow, like he’s been hurt before in much the same way, and that should probably be distressing if it wasn’t for the fact that right now, he’ll take any familiarity he can get.
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Afterwards Seth laughs, shocked disbelief giving it a hollow ring. ”I always thought it’d be me.”
It’s the first words he’s spoken since the chair hit him.
Dean curls in on himself and says nothing.
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Finally he steps back and allows himself to look, to see. Roman Reigns, like fucking Prometheus, chained to the rock. So beautiful it hurts to look at, all smooth, tanned skin and perfect abs, his sleeve and chest piece accentuating the muscles underneath, a glistening pattern to lick and bite and scratch your nails along until you get lost in it. He’s half hard already, and Seth has missed his cock, as perfect as the rest of him, missed it enough that he’s tempted, for one moment, to just forget about his plans and see how many times he can make Roman come using only his mouth.
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He knows other things too. Like where Dean will be. Still sweaty, hair a mess, driving Roman up the wall with his after-show jitters as he shimmies and twitches and throws punches at the air rather than getting into the shower like he ought to. Dean, with his obnoxious grin and offensive jokes and low gravelly come-fuck-me voice and the way he spreads his legs in catering when he thinks Seth is watching (which he isn't), his hand sliding towards his crotch, deliberately and provocative, showcasing everything Seth's not allowed to want.
And he doesn't want Dean Ambrose. That'd be pathetic and he's not. That's not what this is and not why he's heading straight for the out-of-the-way locker room where he knows they'll be.
They're sitting down, face to face on the low bench, Roman helping Dean remove the tape from his hands. It looks casual and intimate at the same time, sparking another wave of, of fury, and it's gratifying to see them jump when he slams the door open, sending it crashing into the wall.
Roman looks him up and down. "Is that glitter?"
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Roman had no idea this was a thing he wanted and now he wants it so bad he's afraid he'll spend the rest of his life chasing this feeling, whatever it is. He wants it to last forever and he wants it to be over now, so he can sneak off to the bathroom and release the pressure that's been building ever since Seth looked him in the eyes and said "I want to whip you" like that's a thing you can say, Jesus Christ.
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There's a powerful symmetry to it, late night phone calls, stolen moments, a thickening web of deceit around him, tainting everything he touches. You'd think he'd learn. He thought he had. But it’s an addiction, their hands on him. It’s fucked up, but what he said that first night holds true. He wants everything. He still hasn't figured out how to make his want smaller and more manageable, how to turn his ambitions decent and his desires bite-sized and harmless.
Series
- Part 2 of break my fall
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"Please don't hang up.”
The words come out rushed, all in one breath, as if Seth's scared he won’t get to finish the sentence otherwise. It’s a near thing. Roman’s fingers tighten around the phone and his first instinct is to end the call. But there’s a desperation in Seth’s voice that stops him.
"You've got thirty seconds," Roman says.
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- Part 1 of break my fall
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Back when he was with Marek, Seth used to love Valentine’s Day. But that might as well have been a lifetime ago and if the string of failed relationships after has taught him anything, it's that he's a pretty shitty partner. Valentine's is a couples' holiday, and Seth doesn't see himself ever being part of a couple again. If he can't be good at it, what's the point of even trying?
Mostly he's fine with it. It's not like he sits around moping, but he's still relieved when Valentine's sees him on another tour with the final stop in Abu Dhabi, sun and sand and glittering water and not a fucking rose in sight. Then Dean gets the pin on him after hooking him with a Dirty Deeds and his day takes an instant turn for the worse.
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"I know why you did it."
Seth doesn't bother to raise his head. "Just keep walking, Ambrose."
Of course he doesn't. Because when in his life has Dean ever done what anyone told him to do?
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There was a promise in the way they looked at him, Stephanie's lingering touches, the weight of Hunter’s gaze, all pride and ownership. It assured him that the celebrations would continue beyond this dinner. It was rather unheard of for Stephanie to join in on their extracurricular activities. She'd watched, once or twice, or stopped to give him a kiss or ruffle his hair on her way out the door, but whatever he had, he had it with Hunter.
Except tonight, it seemed like. Apparently threatening to commit murder on live television counted as the kind of above-and-beyond that warranted even Stephanie McMahon's personal attention.
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"Just try it, they said. It'll be fun, they said," Seth Rollins mutters as he skulks through the mercifully abandoned concrete hallways of a annoyingly familiar yet nondescript arena. "Just a short jump, Capt'n. Just a brief stop back to fix what went wrong."
He was supposed to be in Dublin, Ireland, November 4, 2015, a few hours before the house show that would tear his right ACL, MCL and medial meniscus, lose him his title and put him out of commission for months. No, strike that. He was supposed to be hanging out with Xavier Woods, Big E and Kofi Kingston at an UpUpDownDown-tournament in August 2016, giving them shit, because time machines aren't supposed to be an actual thing.
Instead, he's somewhere that’s neither Dublin nor 2015. He knows this, because he's already had to dodge Ryback in the hallway, and Ryback hasn't been signed to the WWE for ages.