#excellentexecution

TRUTH BE TOLD, neither had she. becky lynch was always one to go for broke, do things that are considered high risk, even at this stage of her career. the women's intercontinental champion, former inaugural smackdown women's champion, former double champion didn't elevate her career by playing it safe. even when it's not an official match, even when it's in the performance center. then again, look who had trained her! but still, she hadn't anticipated getting up on the turnbuckle. still, she hadn't planned on hitting the somersault suicide senton she'd borrowed from her mentor, a modified BECKY BOMB reserved for special moments typically. standing from her position atop partner outside the ring, sweaty and breathless, the redhead smiles at bret. it's a remark seen as high praise coming from the best there is, was, and ever will be.

" thanks, mate! don't really break that one out very often ... " she retorts with a soft laugh. hands find homes upon hips, chest rising and falling rapidly. she can't help her own piqued curiosity about his presence there, however. " wasn't expecting t' see ya 'ere! "

~*~ Carried over from Discord ~*~

She couldn't help the little whimper that left her as the gentleman pulled away from her, promising to come back with nourishment and tuck them away as requested…

Standing there in a daze as he walked away, it took her a moment to really gather her wits and bring herself somewhat rooted in reality as she had gotten lost in his eyes. She had gotten lost in the feeling of his body just barely pressing against her, his hand holding her own in…gods, was she just imagining it or was he reveling in the warmth that her touch gave? That he, too, did not want to let her go. That he didn't want the moment to end that was transpiring between them. And she knew, she knew that he knew. She noticed how he seemed to lean slightly forward, how he inhaled just a little longer. She had saw how his eyes had swept across the room as if he knew the greatest secret and he wanted to make sure that no one else was keen to it. What he knew was just for him, that was what the look in his searching eyes had told her before they settled upon her again as he excused himself in the most traditional of ways. Never had she been bowed to like she was someone of high importance, royalty.

She found herself breathless as he walked away, her heart racing within her chest and the beat thrumming in her ears that it almost drowned out the whispers she heard around her. Those same whispers had helped to bring her back to her wits even though it was so hard for her to dare take her eyes away from Bret. She was afraid of what she would see if she looked around in that moment. Would they be mocking her? Would there be others who would suddenly be more interested in her because of the Hitman's attentions upon her? Those type that always wanted what someone else had seemingly taken interest in… You are getting ahead of yourself, Niccola. He is just being nice. You are the one getting flushed and bothered by someone just being nice to you. Humoring you. Do get ahold of yourself!

Is he really…gather food for the food? Only him…

…such a fool. Doesn't he know he shouldn't stoop so low? He's the superior being.

My, my…doesn't she look like such a tasty morsel? She does smell so good. Maybe I can have the leftovers!

It was the shout of 'go get her, brother' that had pulled her out of her spiral, keeping her rooted in place just when she felt her resolve not to run and hide dwindle to nothing. Her violet orbs scanning the room to find the person responsible seemingly beaming at Bret as he had his way back to her; Sarah, who looked quite embarrassed, right beside him as well as a few others that seemed to have looks of hope in their eyes as they watched him close the distance. There really wasn't much time to process the moment as he apologized to her, looking absolutely shy as he explained why he had been gone so long. Had it really been that long? No, nothing unreasonable she felt though a part of her felt like it had been a lifetime. She felt…safe with him close by again. And she gave a relieved, warm chuckle at his mention of dessert preferences.

"You are so considerate, Mr. Hart. Thank you so much for gathering something up for me to eat. I really could have done it myself. And, wouldn't you know it, guess what my favorite dessert ever is? Mmmm love me a big slice of creamy cheesecake, especially with fresh or lightly dressed fruit on top. Especially cherries or strawberries!" she explains as she allows him to guide her out of the main ballroom and out onto the terrace. It was a gorgeous night. A breeze coming up from the coastline. The moon full and bright with sister stars dancing around it to match. Centerpieces of candles & flowers giving extra light while setting the mood, keeping nighttime bugs at bay with their scent. Outdoor sitting area was empty as everyone else was still inside, enjoying the dancing and socializing within the protected walls. Those who had travelled outside had continued on their way, down the stone steps that lead out onto the private strip of coastline and were off to seek their privacy closer to the waves.

It seemed a fitting setting to enjoy a bite to eat while getting to know more of the man that had somehow riled up her physically as much as he had comforted her mentality. This duality…was a bit maddening. She was still trying to determine where things would land by the end of the night, especially when he was complimenting her so yet seemed to be…the Irishwoman didn't quite know the word for it. Distant? But he was being so open with her. So he said but those eyes. Those eyes were telling of things left unsaid. Those were the thoughts she wanted to be privvie to soooo badly!

"My Mum always wanted me to be more social. My Papa was more than happy that I didn't want to deal with people, especially boys. He was a bit pouty when I told him with all honesty that I seemed equally attracted to women just as much as men but just hadn't found anyone who made me want to…come out I guess? Well, come out as in actually leave the house and go and do things. Again, Sarah fusses with me all the time that I could never meet anyone if I am never out to meet anyone and I do understand her point. It is why I try to fight her less and less about going to events that she finds that she thinks I won't be 'too uncomfortable' at. Though, as I mentioned, she has this tendency to leave me to my own devices," she relays as she settles down at the table, looking over the treats that he has brought her. Niccola cuts into the lamb, bringing a piece to her mouth to chew and savor. Her eyes flutter for a moment as a soft moan escapes her, warm smile curling her lips as she continues to chew until the bite is gone. Taking a sip of her lemonade, she gazes over his features for a moment before she speaks again. "You give me such compliments. I am sure you have seen many women in your lifetime and to know you feel I am worthy of being called beautiful among them is a honor. Especially from someone who, from where I am sitting, is quite handsome and definitely someone I would say is out of my league. So. Thank you so much for the compliment. I…"

There's a renewed flush to her cheeks as she tries to control her nerves. She had no clue where this…boldness was coming from. Maybe it was the thought that she could always escape, fly back to her city, and never hear about the fall out of her failed attempts of being 'presentable' ever again that had her taking such chances with her words. This night just kept coming with the firsts. "This lamb is really good. I, um, wish you could have a bite and try it but, I don't know, I am sure it would make you sick or the like. Tell me more about yourself. About your vampiric culture. About your stories of being a late bloomer and fighting grizzlies and becoming the man that is sitting across from me. I haven't felt so, well, comfortable speaking with another. You have been nothing but kind to me as well. I want to keep building upon that. This, um, friendship?"

in the end, they had all got what they wanted, hadn’t they? the nexus had been a thorn in the side of the roster for months now, making their presence felt through carnage and mayhem. the message had been simple enough: fall in line or get crushed beneath their boot, and not many among them had been so lucky to come out of those attacks unscathed. for one night only, they were the vanguard set to rewrite the script and alter the landscape that had become fraught with danger. they had won, those aligned with john, and though adam knows he should feel some sense of pride in righting the wrongs of those who had stepped out of line, the only feeling that he could seem to conjure up was… emptiness. they weren’t friends — they were common allies and nothing else, and there was no sense in pretending otherwise.

after the final bell rings and cena’s hand is raised in victory, the mood in the locker room is far too jovial for adam to bear. not bothering with packing up his gear for now, he’d come back for it once most of the boys had cleared out. he needed some space to clear his head and allow the adrenaline rush to crash and bring him back down to earth. he’d fought well tonight, he knows that, but there was a part of him lately that kept being drawn back to the same question: how much was he leaving on the table every night, and why?

it was surprisingly cool in LA that night… or maybe it was just that the venue was stuffy, or his blood was running a little too hot — whatever it was, the fresh air was an instant relief to the inner turmoil he suddenly found was trying to force its way out. was it selfish of him? this business, this life — it was everything he had worked and sacrificed for, had given him so much in return for his blood, sweat, tears, and soul, but he couldn’t help wondering how much he had left. chris would tell him that everyone has these thoughts, but they’re stupid and there was no use in dwelling on them, and perhaps he was right.

from behind him, a door opens at the same time the statement leaves his mouth. of course someone would’ve come looking for him; it had only a matter of time, and if he had to, he would simply brush off the existential feeling as emotion getting the best of him, even if that wasn’t quite the truth. dropping his chin to his chest, adam’s shoulders slouch forward slightly, as if in preparation for whatever was coming next. chris unleashing his pent up frustration over being taken out so early, probably, or maybe if he was really lucky, it would be the nexus to put his face through the windshield of stephanie’s rental car.

it was neither, and adam wasn’t sure if that was better or worse; the violence was easy, and he had learned how to tune chris out. bret… well, that was far more difficult. when bret spoke, he listened, even if it wasn’t always what he wanted to hear. realizing that bret had actually heard him, adam looks over his shoulder with a curious gaze before allowing his attention to drift back to the night sky. “friends, family, lovers… they all come and go, but this is always waiting for us like a cruel mistress, knowing we’ll come crawling back for more because we can’t help ourselves.” there’s a sad smile ghosting along his mouth, and he wants to ask bret if maybe it would’ve been easier to leave if he hadn’t gone out with a chip on his shoulder…

but he hesitates, and instead, concern fills the space between them. just listening to bret, adam works his teeth against the inside of his cheek for a moment, brow furrowed as his stare settles on twinkling lights off in the distance. he knew what chris was and he wasn’t blind to it. that partner of his had shown his true colors time and time again, and only a fool would allow themselves to get wrapped up in him and fall for false promises like loyalty. he knew the type of monster chris was, because he was so much worse.

turning his head to look at bret once again, adam works his fingers through sweat-dampened hair, subtle amusement lighting up his features. “how do you know i’m not manipulating him?” the question comes out gentle; bret wasn’t a target of his hostility and he’d done nothing to draw his ire. besides that, bret might be the only person who could speak to him this way and actually knock some sense into his thick skull. respect was a funny thing like that. “eleven years, he and i—“ he starts, then stops, shaking his head to himself. “i know what chris is capable of, hitman. first opportunity he gets, he’ll be there to put a knife in my back.”

steve is incredulous. it wasn't as if the hart foundation hadn't had it coming. he'd done the world a favor. bret could call it senseless american violence until he turned blue in the face, but he figured himself a hero. most weren't brave enough to stand in the way of such an unstoppable force. steve austin was not most people.

you put one guy in a wheelchair and break another guy's ankle and suddenly you're the bad guy... how unfortunate. 

fingers flex around the microphone in his grasp and a menacing smile cracks through his features. he wouldn’t hesitate to lay hands on bret again if it seemed that the odds weren't in his favor. hell, he'd lay hands on bret if he just got bored enough with this little dog and pony show. he didn't need much of a reason to bust his knuckles across the canadian's face. he'd bust bret's head open in a box, he'd bust bret's head open with a fox. it didn't matter.

"well, if that don't just break my heart. goddamn, son, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"

@excellentexecution​:  ⭐️ + Bret

Send me ⭐️ + a name, and I’ll write a drabble between that person and my muse! 

Bret had wanted cake but she had wanted cookies. Logan had wanted cookies and little Brianna had wanted cake. And so Niccola was tasked to come up with a compromise that would satisfy everyone’s craving while not giving the matriarch, herself, too much work during the busiest baking season of the year. 

Truly, had it had been any other time of year, she would have pulled out all the baking dishes and supplies needed to bake a cake and a few batches of cookies but she was already making several pies, batches of cookies, and cakes that weren’t for her family to consume. And as much as she loved appeasing her own family, she also knew she was limited in energy to spend in that moment even with help.

So while she worked through her baking chore list, preparing treats that would be given out as gifts to other homes, the Irishwoman thought over the recipe in her head. A tweak here, an addition there, an adjustment in size here, and then some added time there...it might work? It should work!

What was to come out of the experiment would become one of the Hitman’s absolute favorite holiday treats. It ate like a cookie though had a texture similar to a cake with fluffy frosting to match. He craved it so much that several times during the year he would beg and plead for her to make him a batch to enjoy though she swore she would only make them during the holidays. 

“I have to give the kids something to look forward to. You as well! If you know it will only come during the holidays, it makes it that much more special when you have it,” she would explain, though that wouldn’t stop the sweets lover from continuing on his mission to seduce her into making him some.