Post by Nate Harris on Jul 6, 2024 6:15:57 GMT
Nate Harris lay in bed, feeling the warmth of his boyfriend Jack beside him. The celebration had been grand, marking his victory as the new gladiator champion, but now, in the quiet of their room, it was just the two of them. He turned to Jack, his eyes reflecting both joy and a hint of vulnerability.
"Winning the championship... it's incredible, Jack," Nate said softly. "But it doesn't change how I feel about you. You're the constant in my life, the one who keeps me grounded. No title or victory can ever change that."
Jack smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Nate's forehead. "I know, babe. And I'm so proud of you. But I'm even prouder of the man you are, championship or not."
Nate leaned in, kissing Jack tenderly. "Thank you for always being there for me," he whispered. "I love you more than anything."
"I love you too, Nate," Jack replied, pulling him closer. "Now and always."
"Winning the championship... it's incredible, Jack," Nate said softly. "But it doesn't change how I feel about you. You're the constant in my life, the one who keeps me grounded. No title or victory can ever change that."
Jack smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Nate's forehead. "I know, babe. And I'm so proud of you. But I'm even prouder of the man you are, championship or not."
Nate leaned in, kissing Jack tenderly. "Thank you for always being there for me," he whispered. "I love you more than anything."
"I love you too, Nate," Jack replied, pulling him closer. "Now and always."
What's good, IWF?
Nah, I want you to take a second and ask yourself that question: what's good? What's REAL good? 'cause the answer? That shit might surprise you. 'cause where I'm sittin', what's good is being a merch-mover, being a crowd-pleaser, being the Gladiator’s motherfucking champion. And that, folks, that's what I am all about.
Maybe I’m feeling a little self-centered but let your boy talk about himself for a minute. No one saw me walking out that ladder match with the belt. The hates hated real good. And that’s okay.
Nah, fuck that. And fuck you.
I got that fucking belt. I give respect and I still think J-Tv got mad fucking skills. But sometimes shit just doesn’t work out and I got lucky. But this is the first gold I ever got my name on. Do you know how fucking sweet this feels?
I feel like I could bitch slap a motherfucker.
That’s what’s good.
But that don’t mean I forgot about my boys.
Did I want this belt? Shit, you know I fuckin’ did. I wanna get a little bit more of that bread, y'know? I don't come from an individual sport kinda world. I know you think this broke ass ex-stripper don’t know nothing bout sports, but that’s stereotyping and makes you look ignorant as hell.
Basketball. Football. Shit, baseball. Team effort wins. Team bonds can make everything work. Ain't gotta have a single star when you got that grit and grind mentality, that going to work mentality, you ain't gotta be LeBron. You just gotta do your job. Hustle right.
We succeed as a team. We rise and fall as a team. Pax is a singles man, he's been a wrestler since he could clasp his hands, and he's our boy makin' waves with HTTT. Jack is a tag team man and I ain’t ever gonna leave him out. Me and the man I love and adore more than anyone who aint family? He's my boy. He's my ride-or-die. Jack Ferriman, the truest of real ones. I would take a fuckin' bullet for him, and he'd do it for me. Book the motherfucker, if you don’t got space on the tag circuit fine, just give my man some screen-time.
if I'ma succeed in wrestling, I don't want it to just be for me. I want them right there with me. I'd turn down that big belt at the top if my trade was getting gold around my boys' waists too. In a heartbeat. Ain't even a thought, ain't even a thing.
I know where I stand. I got mine.
I know this match is meant to be a hype-up for me. I’m meant to be talking that good shit about Billie. And Billie ain’t a punk-ass bitch. He works his ass off. He got a whole-ass legacy he feels like he’s letting down by not making the big time. It’s okay, we gonna fuck it up.
Trust.
Nah, I want you to take a second and ask yourself that question: what's good? What's REAL good? 'cause the answer? That shit might surprise you. 'cause where I'm sittin', what's good is being a merch-mover, being a crowd-pleaser, being the Gladiator’s motherfucking champion. And that, folks, that's what I am all about.
Maybe I’m feeling a little self-centered but let your boy talk about himself for a minute. No one saw me walking out that ladder match with the belt. The hates hated real good. And that’s okay.
Nah, fuck that. And fuck you.
I got that fucking belt. I give respect and I still think J-Tv got mad fucking skills. But sometimes shit just doesn’t work out and I got lucky. But this is the first gold I ever got my name on. Do you know how fucking sweet this feels?
I feel like I could bitch slap a motherfucker.
That’s what’s good.
But that don’t mean I forgot about my boys.
Did I want this belt? Shit, you know I fuckin’ did. I wanna get a little bit more of that bread, y'know? I don't come from an individual sport kinda world. I know you think this broke ass ex-stripper don’t know nothing bout sports, but that’s stereotyping and makes you look ignorant as hell.
Basketball. Football. Shit, baseball. Team effort wins. Team bonds can make everything work. Ain't gotta have a single star when you got that grit and grind mentality, that going to work mentality, you ain't gotta be LeBron. You just gotta do your job. Hustle right.
We succeed as a team. We rise and fall as a team. Pax is a singles man, he's been a wrestler since he could clasp his hands, and he's our boy makin' waves with HTTT. Jack is a tag team man and I ain’t ever gonna leave him out. Me and the man I love and adore more than anyone who aint family? He's my boy. He's my ride-or-die. Jack Ferriman, the truest of real ones. I would take a fuckin' bullet for him, and he'd do it for me. Book the motherfucker, if you don’t got space on the tag circuit fine, just give my man some screen-time.
if I'ma succeed in wrestling, I don't want it to just be for me. I want them right there with me. I'd turn down that big belt at the top if my trade was getting gold around my boys' waists too. In a heartbeat. Ain't even a thought, ain't even a thing.
I know where I stand. I got mine.
I know this match is meant to be a hype-up for me. I’m meant to be talking that good shit about Billie. And Billie ain’t a punk-ass bitch. He works his ass off. He got a whole-ass legacy he feels like he’s letting down by not making the big time. It’s okay, we gonna fuck it up.
Trust.
Well howdy there pardner.