Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.
A/N: This is my first ever fanfic, so please be gentle! I'm excited to put it out into the world, and would love to hear feedback.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at our final destination, Orlando, Florida. Your luggage will be available for collection at carousel number three. If you have any further queries, our ground staff will be happy to assist you. Once again, thank you for flying American Airlines."
Iseult Collins rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck from side to side as she watched the first passengers begin to disembark. It had been a full eighteen hours since she had left her home in Dublin, Ireland, and she was more than happy to have reached her final stop at last.
Her original flight had brought her to New York, and was followed by a lengthy layover, before she took her ultimate journey to the Sunshine State. It was the ultimate journey in many ways – she was about to finally set foot on American soil, Visa in hand, and her wrestling dreams within reach.
Having spent the last number of years grinding out a living as a waitress, and refining her craft at the evenings and weekends, she had now at age twenty five succeeded in snagging a contract with the world's best sports entertainment company – the WWE.
If it was difficult to make it as a female wrestler in the United States, it was near on impossible when you came from a tiny island on the edge of Europe. Granted, Stephen Farrelly had recently paved the way for upcoming talent, but there was still a vast difference between the male and female divisions.
The WWE promoted a limited aesthetic of women, which mostly involved a flawless physique, tight outfits and ample cleavage. As a little girl, Iseult had watched Raw and Smackdown every Saturday morning (time differences sucked!) in breathless wonder. Her eyes never left the screen as her heroes and heroines battled it out, disregarding their own personal safety in favour of scintillating contests of strength and bravery. The Divas had been beautiful, yet completely fierce. They didn't bow down, and they most certainly did not give up.
Lately though, it seemed as if a lot of the spark and danger had been strangled out of the Divas division. A significant chunk of the talent had been recruited for their good looks and toned bodies, rather than their passion for the sport.
It irked her that other women saw this opportunity as a meal ticket to money and fame. To her, it was the chance to live her dream and showcase her skills to a global audience. She was on a mission to realise all of her wildest dreams and change the women's game at the WWE.
Nothing too major, then…
Iseult spent the next three months working in developmental - slamming every opponent placed before her, spitting venom in her promos, and adding extra idiosyncrasies to the character that she had worked on for years.
In a somewhat unusual move, she had been allowed to keep her own name. Despite it being of Irish origin, and the difficulty that fans might initially have with it, the powers that be believed that it would catch on, and was a perfect fit for her icy warrior princess persona. If the WWE Universe could handle Sheamus, then surely they could grasp Iseult. She could already imagine them yelling it phonetically "Iz-ult! Iz-ult!"
It wasn't until the end of her third month that she finally made it to a taping of RAW in Arizona. She wandered through the maze of corridors backstage wordlessly, taking in every little detail. The air buzzed with competition, hunger and excitement. It felt so good to be surrounded by similar minded individuals – those who strove to be the best, and would do whatever it took to ensure that they reached the apex of this industry.
She had been instructed to report to the Creative team, so that her look could be refined and shaped to better reflect her character. Her in-ring persona was a fearless woman, who reveled in battle and showed no mercy. This edge had appealed to the Creative team, who had typically worked with beautiful Divas who played along with the expected standard for their division – conventionally attractive women who charmed the crowd and took part in three-minute matches.
Iseult was something different, in that her fearless in-ring rage would have to be aligned with her physical appearance. The WWE perception of women had become somewhat limited in the PG era, so she now presented an interesting challenge as a fierce competitor, who happened to have an extremely curvy body.
She had been self-conscious as her breasts began to grow during her teenage years, filling out to a voluptuous D-cup. Similarly, her body had taken on an hourglass shape, meaning that her tight-fitting wrestling outfits were eye-catching to the hetero-normative male gaze. Lecherous comments from the crowd had been a part of her career from the very beginning.
As she got older, she had embraced her natural shape and simply learned how to watch out for wardrobe malfunctions during matches. She wasn't opposed to caring for her physical appearance as best she could, and was curious as to how the company intended to combine her personality with the expected Diva aesthetic.
She hoped to change the Divas game, but knew that change would be slow to appear, so in the meantime, it was best to work as hard as possible, while complying with the requirements of her role.
"Iseult! It's so wonderful to meet you," a short woman with beautiful auburn hair greeted her warmly. "I'm Alison, the head costume designer here. Are you ready to see what we have prepared for you?"
Iseult shook Alison's hand and eagerly followed her into the dressing room. "It's lovely to meet you, too." She silently prayed that the outfit wouldn't be too horrendous, or involve an excessive amount of spandex.
Alison disappeared behind a curtain, before popping her head out and smiling at Iseult, "Okay, close your eyes. Open them again on my count of three."
Iseult did as she was told, a small smile creeping across her lips. Alison's enthusiasm for her job was infectious, and kind of adorable.
"One…two…three!"
Iseult's eyes immediately popped open and she found herself letting out a little gasp of wonder. Her gaze fell upon the most beautiful and intricate outfit that she could ever have imagined. The top consisted of clingy dark emerald material that would bind to her shape and reveal the exquisite line of her chest. It resembled a bra more than a top, and left her midriff bare.
An additional piece of the same material would wrap around her upper arm, in keeping with her warrior theme. A small, sparkling Waterford crystal heart hung between the breasts, glinting as it caught the light.
The bottom half was equally skimpy, as she expected, and consisted of dark shorts that would snugly fit her butt. They had been embellished to feature rows of more sparkling crystal, which would create a shimmering effect with every movement of her body.
Catching herself, Iseult moved toward the outfit, fingering the rows of crystal gently. "It's perfect," she whispered, looking at Alison with appreciation in her eyes. "You get it. This is exactly who Iseult is supposed to be – fierce, feminine, and a total showstopper. I love it! Can I try it on?"
"Knock yourself out," Alison smiled, holding back the curtain as Iseult stepped behind it.
Moments later, she re-appeared, practically glowing with delight. She had feared that the company would push her in a stereotypically Irish direction, with tacky gimmicks, but they had completely understood her vision. The outfit clung to every curve, and was surprisingly comfortable, allowing for a full range of movement as she swung around in front of the mirror.
She stepped up on to a circular podium, as Alison knelt down to note the fit and mark down any required adjustments in a little notepad. "Okay, honey, now turn around to face the wall while I have a look at the back," Alison instructed as she scribbled down a few thoughts. Iseult did as she was told, only to hear Alison let out a gasp of her own.
Iseult frowned, wondering about the dramatic reaction. She knew she had a pretty fantastic ass, as a result of thousands of hours of training, but surely Alison had seen her fair share of perfect derrieres in her line of work. She was about to make a joke about it, when she glanced at her back in the mirror.
Alison's eyes were focused on the area beneath her right kidney. A dark scar marred Iseult's otherwise porcelain skin, extending along to the base of her spine. The bra and short shorts exposed so much of her abdomen and back that it was impossible to miss the imperfection.
Iseult, unaccustomed to this extreme level of skimpiness in her wrestling outfits, hadn't had a reason to think about the scar in a long time. In that moment though, her thoughts were drawn back to its genesis. She trembled as the memories hit her with violent, unexpected forcefulness.
She opened her mouth to speak, but could only push out a few shaky breaths. Alison, taken aback by the deep mark and Iseult's powerful response, quickly rushed to reassure her.
"Do not even worry about it. I can extend the straps to interlink once down your back, and wrap the remaining material around your waist. It will keep the lines clean and offer additional support for that gorgeous chest of yours that will be the envy of millions."
Alison smiled as she wrapped the material around Iseult's slim waist, trying to remain upbeat and carefully layering the material so as to cover up the dark line. It was obviously a sensitive subject for Iseult, and Alison was not about to push her on it.
It was hard enough for women to wear tiny outfits in front of a global audience on a weekly basis, without having to worry about every flaw and imperfection being commented upon while they did it. Social media was a particularly vocal form of torture for female wrestlers these days.
Iseult was grateful for Alison's quick and comforting words, as she tried to steady her breath. She was unnerved by the sudden reminder of her past, but determined to push past it.
This is your job now. It's time to act like a professional, not a scared child. Iseult is a kickass warrior, remember?
She obliged as Alison told her to turn this way and that, with the dressmaker deciding to add slim strips of gauzy material to the waistband of the shorts, so as to sway and enhance Iseult's ethereal image as she moved.
The Irish woman quickly changed back into her previous outfit of a red and white striped tank top, skinny jeans and a pair of black Converse. She thanked Alison for her hard work and ducked back out into the hallway. Rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms so as to quell the goosebumps that had broken out, she walked aimlessly, her mind pre-occupied by the past and how she could not afford to let it affect her so obviously again.
After a few minutes of admonishing herself, she looked up to figure out exactly where she was. The show was due to start shortly, and management had kindly gifted her a ringside seat. She didn't want to miss one second of the action.
The frame of a tall, muscular and rather well oiled man soon caught her eye.
No way! It's Randy fucking Orton!
The fan-girl inside of her was squealing and only short of doing cartwheels. On the outside though, Iseult the professional, (and grown ass woman), maintained a neutral expression.
The appearance of this third-generation WWE Superstar was enough to make her forget the events of the past half hour. She managed to catch a glimpse of his back (and ass - God, what an ass), as he strode toward the gorilla position.
He suddenly turned around to grab a water bottle from a nearby table and threw back his head to take a deep slug. Iseult felt a newfound appreciation for the muscles in his neck as she watched on.
Wiping his arm across his mouth, Randy's electric blue eyes suddenly fell upon Iseult, who was frozen to the spot a few metres away. A small smirk crossed his lips as he looked her up and down, before winking slyly and heading for the gorilla.
Suppressing a smile, she decided that it was about time to head to her seat, and enjoy this prime opportunity to ogle that god-like creature in closer quarters.
Little did she know just how close she would get to him that night…