#blackpool (fic)

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Wild Thing

Jon Moxley x fem reader

A young Jon Moxley meets Y/n somewhere in CZW in 2009 (inspired by Mox’s book)

Mentions: of blood, drug use, swearing, fighting, kidnapping

Main Masterlist

Tonight was my first match in CZW’s Tournament of Death. I stood pacing back and forth in the locker room mentally preparing myself for the events that would occur when I could hear Eddie Kingston yelling at someone in the hallway. He sounded mad. The other men in the locker room exchanged looks and oos before one of them said “She sure is a feisty one isn’t she” to which the men all began to laugh. ‘Who is this she?’ I thought to myself. Eddie then stormed into the room and slammed the door behind him, preventing whoever was behind him from entering the room. He leaned against the door and I could hear angry knocking from the other side. “What does she want now?” said Danny Havoc. (But I just call him Grant) .“She wants to be in TOD, Jon won’t let her” Eddie explained. I didn’t know who this girl they were referring to was but she seemed pretty badass to me. A female wanting to participate in the tournament of death?! “Of course she does! Let me talk to her” said Grant with his thick Jersey accent. Eddie then opened the door to reveal a tall blonde in a Juicy Couture tracksuit. I was not expecting that. 

The gorgeous blond stormed into the room before running into the arms of Grant. “Tell Jon Zandig that I should be in TOD!” she yelled “Now doll, why do you want to be a part of TOD? You know I love ya but you’re too pretty to be doing this kind of shit,” he told her. 

“I want to prove that I can do the same thing you guys can do. Why is it that there are never any women wrestling in these shows? You know I can wrestle! I train my ass off and what do I get back? Nothing, because no one wants to hire a girl. They only want female wrestlers for swimsuit contests and dog food fights. I’m sick of doing that shit! I want to go out there and taste my own blood. TOD or not I want to show these people that I know how to wrestle!” The room was silent. I felt like an outcast, everyone seemed to know about this situation but me. 

Eddie was the first to break the silence. “Let me talk to Jon again. You know he likes you Y/n. I’m sure if you promise not to do anything stupid he will put you in the opener without TOD stipulations” 

Sure enough, Y/n got her match. I watched the match backstage with Grant, both of us hypnotized by what we were seeing. “Who is she?” I asked him, he almost looked shocked that I didn’t know of Y/n. “That’s Y/n, she’s the most badass bitch I have ever met. They call her the Hardcore Barbie because she looks like a Barbie doll and lives off death match wrestling. She’s really nice if you don’t piss her off. She also has good weed.” he told me 

I was so fascinated with her. I needed to know more about her. “Anything else I should know about her? She seems young?” I asked Grant. “Well, she started wrestling when she was 16 and she just turned 20. I know what you’re thinking, she won’t sleep with you, everyone here has tried. It’s so funny that these freaks think she would get with them. She travels with Kingston and me, so don’t you dare try nothing. I will kill you with my bare hands” 

Grant and I watched the rest of the match. I had never seen such a beautiful match. Y/n did in fact know how to wrestle. The man she stood across the ring from was twice her weight yet she picked him up with such ease. The fans loved seeing a pretty girl like herself beat up a sweaty dude. Y/n had beat the man to a pulp, she pinned him 1..2..3 and it was over. I thought it was funny how Grant watched on as a proud parent, that was his girl. I thought about what he said, how she rode with him and Kingston. Why did Eddie never mention Y/n before?

After the show, Y/n officially introduced herself to me. I felt like I was hypnotized by her beauty. She noticed how nervous I was around her and she used it to her advantage, inviting me to hang out after the show with Grant and Eddie. I had to accept, how could you not? 

Eddie explained to me why he hadn’t introduced me to Y/n before. He told me she was known for using her looks to her advantage. “So like she sleeps with people for matches?” I asked him “That’s gross, she would never do that. She mentally fucks you. If you look her too long in the eye you’ll fall right into her trance. She hypnotizes you and manipulates you. She looks all sweet but trust me she has a bad attitude” “So why do you hang out with her then?” I asked him 

“Because she’s fucken wild. She’s so fun to hang out with and she always has weed. Someone needs to look out for her. There are creeps out there man. For god sake she’s a skinny tall blond who lives in Juicy Couture, what do you think will happen?” he told me. Eddie had a good point. 

That night Y/n and I became good friends. Eddie was right when she said she was wild. Once she had a few drinks in her and some of the good shit she was the life of the party. I didn’t understand why Eddie kept Y/n a secret, sure you could tell that she had a few screws loose but don’t we all? For fucks sake if someone willingly wants to participate in TOD you know there’s some form of mental issues going on.

Just then a man approached Kingston and me. He had a fresh buzz cut, was covered in tattoos, had what seemed like a freshly broken nose and looked like the kind of guy who would have women chained up in his basement. “Where is she?” he spat, in a thick Russian accent. I could tell that he and Kingston knew each other, the tension was thick in the air. “Where is who?” Eddie spat back, his New York accent being more noticeable when he was mad. “You know who, stop playing dumb, bum” he responded. “You’re a real fucking idiot, Sasha, she left hours ago. I have no idea where she went but even if I did there’s no way I would tell you” Kingston spat. The men stood chest to chest, eyeing the other down. I did nothing, even I knew not to get involved in whatever this is. Now I didn’t know who the ‘She’ was that they were referring to but by now I think I had an idea. Then Grant came into the mix yelling “I told you if you ever showed your face here again I would fucking kill you” Just then an all-out brawl began. The two men began beating Sasha to a pulp. That’s when I noticed Y/n had vanished into thin air.

I let Kingston and Grant take care of Sasha and went looking for Y/n. In the distance, I heard the sound of broken glass. I followed the sound and found Y/n smashing the windows of a beat-up junk car with a baseball bat. She was mad, she looked evil. Now I knew why Eddie had warned me. “Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here? What are you doing Y/n?” She turned to face me and I made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Her once bright green eyes had turned a deep forest colour, the whites of her eyes now red. Her makeup was smudged and her cheeks were stained with fresh tears. I was scared. I felt like she was staring into my soul, being able to read my every thought, know all my secrets. “What do you want, Mox?” she said through gritted teeth. “I just want to know what’s going on here. Why are Grant and Eddie beating the snot out of a guy named Sasha?” Her face dropped at the name, that told me what I needed to know.

Just then I heard someone yelling and honking a horn in the background. I turned to find Grant and Eddie yelling at us to get in the car! Y/n and I jumped in the car and sped off. The car was deathly silent. No one dared to say a word. I looked at Grant’s hands that gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles were bloody and bruised, that’s when I noticed the blood on Eddie. The silence was broken when Y/n began to laugh, Grant and Eddie began laughing as well. “What the fuck happened back there?” I asked with genuine concern in my voice. “That jackass back there Sasha, I broke his nose after he followed me home after the show last week. I don’t even want to think about what his intentions were, "she said. “Not to mention 'someone' stole $500 out of my purse at the show today” “If he ever showed his face around here again I said I would kill him” Grant responded. “I smashed his windows because that’s what he gets for trying to kidnap me and stealing my $500” I was honestly speechless. “ I found a bunch of money in his car so it’s only fair I split the reward with all of you,” Y/n said. I watched her pull the fat wad of hundreds out of her pocket and began counting it. “$500 for Grant, $500 for Eddie, $500 for Mox and $1,500 for me. Thank you, Sasha” “Thank you Sasha the rest of us chimed in” From that moment I knew Y/n and I would be best friends. 

[daddyhausen]

• kinktober day one : innocence kink — blackpool combat club { jon moxley, wheeler yuta, claudio castagnoli } •

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{ masterlists } | { kinktober 2023 }

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{ commissions info } | { like my work? buy me a coffee — kofi — dxddyhxusen }

{ summary } — they’ve been teasing and tormenting you for months, now upon the discovery that you were a virgin, they make it their mission to claim you

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }, cnc, hatefuck, group sex, innocence kink, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, praise, double penetration, oral sex { male receiving }, throat fucking, throatpie, spanking, tit slapping, pussy slapping, degradation, sexual humiliation, filming, blackmail, anal sex, rough sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, male + female orgasms, squirting, internal cumshots, vaginal creampie, anal creampie

{ word count } — 2.9k

{ pairing } — fem!reader x jon moxley + wheeler yuta + claudio castagnoli

{ genre } — smut

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{ taglist } — @cosmoholic13 @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @adamjf @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @elsteenerico @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @violetmacher

{ beta readers } — @allelitesmut + @legit9thlunaticwarrior

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

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their fingers clawing, kneading at your flesh. no matter how hard you tried to swat their hands away

they kept tugging, toying, with your clothing

teasing as they would pry upward small pieces of fabric, exposing little canvases of your bare flesh

ready for them to paint with their desire

jon stood before you, keeping your body firm against the concrete wall of his basement

the room had been converted into some sort of training room

a basic, dreary one at that

a single mat in the centre of the room, maybe about two or so inches thick

definitely not enough to support the weight of a body slammed into it at full force

there was barely any light, only a small lantern dangling above your head from a short chain

his figure flickering in and out of the darkness with a grimey yellow hue.

yuta stood to your left, head buried into the crook of your neck, nipping the top of your shoulder with some force

enough to make you whine when he bit down especially hard

his lanky fingers locked into the belt loops of your jeans, tugging impatiently, with the absence of a belt

revealing the axis of your hip, growling into your skin upon noticing the exposed flesh.

claudio stood to your right, not as close as yuta, but close enough to keep you on edge

his large palm slid under your shirt, groping your breasts, interchanging between the two with just one hand

your whimper only fueled their desire, fueling their lust to corrupt you

jon leaned in, his tongue barely ghosting your lips as he wet his own

his breath had the faintest scent of menthol, evident by the cigarette he’d been smoking a mere half an hour before

“a little birdy told us that you were still a virgin” jon smirked nipping your notting lip quickly despite your resistance

“is that right, doll?”

you could feel yuta grin into your neck, just at the mere thought of being the one to corrupt you first sent pulses of arousal to his cock

he bit down slightly harder than previously, a sharp sting ran through your shoulder

his spit leaking down your skin as you groaned through your next words

“that’s none of your damn business-“ your attempt at being intimidating was weak, pathetic, laced with fear

claudio’s fingers traced over your perky nipples, pinching the left one

a small squeak of pain left your lips, effectively making the three of them grow in their shorts

“a fiery little thing isn’t she?” jon mentioned to the other two, yuta pulled away from your skin to nod in agreement

claudio reciprocated the same nod

“we’ll have fun with this one” jon stuck his hand down the front of your jeans unannounced upon finishing his sentence

despite your protests, attempts to kick them away but their strength proved too much

jon’s fingers, danced against your clit, gathering the wetness in the pads of his fingertips

the three of them smirked, watching the heat rise to your cheeks in an unnatural shade of red

“so the rumours are true, huh?” claudio chimed in, thick accent ringing in your ears, with a deep, sinful bass

“you’ve never been touched, toyed with until you’re begging for release” he added, his words dancing across your earlobe with faint breaths

“i bet she’s never even fucked herself” yuta remarked, his teeth now leaving an imprint in your skin, a bruise soon to follow in splotches of red and purple, you were surprised that he didn’t draw blood

“oh angel, it’s true? my my you really are innocent” yuta’s tongue trailed up against the side of your neck until he reached your earlobe, nipping lightly at the flesh.

jon’s fingers dipped past your folds, feeling how tight your walls clenched around him

“god she’s fucking soaked…” jon announced to his brethren who where quick to anoint their fingers with the scent of you

feeling a combination of all their fingers spreading your folds, dipping into your warmth and teasing your clit

it was all too much for your mind to take in

“fuck, you’re right” claudio was the first to pry his fingers from between your thighs

bringing his large digits to your lips, allowing you to sample your sweetness,

the taste foreign on your tongue

it left you with an incredibly vulgar, almost nauseating pit in your stomach

this was wrong on so many levels, but you could not bring your lips to pry away from his fingers until he moved them,

a subtle pop following after he’d removed them

yuta offered you no such decency

savouring your warmth for himself, not hesitating to lick his fingers clean

shuddering with arousal at your taste

jon was last, quickly prying his fingers from your panties

without any chance for you to react, he smeared your sweetness across your lips before kissing you harshly

he pulled away breathlessly, taking a second to admire your flustered form

“strip her. then bring her to the mat”

jon instructed, stripping himself as he made his way to the centre of the room, haphazardly throwing his clothes to the edge of the mat

you could not help but stare at his length. how hard he was, how his tip leaked with precum and twitched with arousal.

you felt claudio’s fingers pull at the hem of your shirt, attempting to pry it over your head

“don’t fear, little one. we’ll take good care of you”

his words were accentuated with a smug smirk, your body paralyzed, unable to fight them off no matter how hard your mind attempted

yuta tugged your jeans down with haste, far more impatient than jon or claudio had been

the youngest of the three noticing the wet spot in your panties

how your sweetness pooled onto the fabric as he pried them down your legs

“god, i can’t wait-“ yuta grew feverish, his hands groping your now naked frame.

“hold it.” jon demanded “don’t want to scare her off”

jon pondered for a moment, smoothing down his beard

“bring her to me”

claudio and yuta hooked their arms under yours, practically dragging you towards jon.

yuta’s hand fell to your shoulder, pushing you down to your knees before jon while claudio stripped himself

you winced as your knees came in contact with the mat

still feeling the concrete beneath it

“open her mouth” jon continued to bark instructions though a relaxed monotone.

claudio cupped your face, having replaced yuta’s hands as the youngest of the trio rid himself of his clothing.

jon lazily began to stroke his cock, bead of precum leaking from his tip

you made eye-contact with it, unintentionally, quickly peering down at the mat

avoiding his gaze all together, in your peripherals, you could have sworn you saw a smirk cross jon’s lips

claudio’s fingers fell to your jaw, prying your mouth open

noticing, despite your previous attempts at restraint

were now rather accepting of the fact that they were going to use you

and rather eager at the fact.

jon’s tip traced soft lines against your bottom lip, pushing against the flat of your tongue, holding himself there for a moment, getting used the the feeling of your warm, wet mouth before allowing himself to fully succumb to the sensation

yuta had joined you on his knees, his fingers returning to their position between your thighs

tracing delicate shapes into your aching clit, his cock prodding at your hip, swollen and leaking with warmth.

claudio had taken his position behind you

both large palms now fully cupping your breasts

groping and squeezing the supple flesh

his own size, much larger than yuta or even jon, pressed firmly against the small of your back

jon remained stoic, silent. it was as arousing as it was frightening

you could not plan for his next move, unsure of what exactly he had in store for you

anxiety rose in your chest, feeling like a stone being pressed against your lungs

“so fucking wet…” yuta mumbled under his breath. “i’ll have you gushing like a fountain in no time, angel”

you whimpered at the sensation, trying to instinctively close your legs but claudio was quick

grabbing your right thigh, he held them open,

allowing you to feel the full range of yuta’s fingers

jon soon snapped his hips forward, his entire length filling your throat

the sensation made your eyes widen in shock, throat forcefully closed and clenched around his size

making you gag and sputter, gasping for breath around the appendage

but jon would not relent, keeping himself firmly buried in your throat, ordering the others with their next movements

“get underneath her” he ordered yuta. the youngest obliging in quick time

prying his fingers from your warmth, licking them clean as he had done previously,

claudio lifted your hips with ease, allowing yuta to make his way beneath you.

his cock teasing your entrance, tip gliding across you clit, smearing your wetness across your slick folds

if jon’s cock wasn’t stuffed down your throat you might have been able to voice your pleasure

“oh fuck-“ yuta slipped inside of you with ease, holding you down on his cock, already beginning to feel the gentle pulses of your cunt.

“claudio-“ jon spoke up. the swiss man gazed at his brother in arms with an attentive stare

“you know what to do”

claudio only nodded with a sickening smirk

it was only then did jon release himself from your throat to readjust himself, even only for a moment, you were grateful that he allowed you to regain your breath

“relax, little one” claudio’s voice flooded your ears with odd reassurance. “you’re so tense”

claudio’s hands smoothed down your shoulders, down the midline and small of your back

“relax for us. we won’t hurt you”

you couldn’t help but take his words as some form of mockery

“all you gotta do is obey us”

yuta added, having a particularly rough thrust, one that left your mind reeling

“fuck you” you spat, an ironic choice of words given your predictiment

yuta only chuckled, hand reaching up to slap your breast, causing another wince on your part

jon had stepped away for the moment, fishing around in his duffel bag for something unknown

your mouth free to shout all the obscenities and expletives their way.

claudio remained silent behind you, still tenderly smoothing shape into your flesh

although the feeling felt more predatory than it did comforting

jon returned phone in hand, the camera already set to record

he poised it on you, making sure your face was fully in frame

“now dollface…” he began, claudio’s cock now prodding against your ass, slick and wet as he had just lubed it up with his own spit

“you better behave and do everything we tell you to” your blood ran cold at the thought as jon forced you to meet the camera’s gaze, tilting your chin up to look at him through the lens

“don’t want this indie film going mainstream now do we?”

you shook your head no, in response, agreeing with him. lord only knows what would become of your life and career if this were to ever get out.

yuta began to move under you, impatient and eager to get himself off, soft grunts left the youngest’s lips as he filled you to the brim with his length.

jon had re-entered your mouth, this time with a much more intense, brute force than before,

feeling the burn and sting of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

claudio gathered the spit that dropped from the corners of your lips, re-lathering his cock before pushing into your tight, untouched hole

“so tight for me, little one”

he held a tight grip on your hair, pushing your head down onto jon’s cock

you hollowed your cheeks for added effect, peering up from behind his phone to notice jon’s head thrown back in pleasure

his phone fixated on your features, making sure to capture each intimate moment

yuta, from beneath you, groped your breasts, squeezing the pillowy mounds of flesh in his palms

the calloused pads of this thumbs tracing over your hard nipples, still swollen slightly from claudio pinching them beforehand

“ain’t no way she was a virgin before this, this cunt feels too good to be left untouched”

yuta monologued through breathless pants, increasing the force of his thrusts

jon gave a small exhale in response, zooming in on the site of yuta’s cock slamming deep into your cunt.

the three of them adored the way you gripped his size, clenching and squeezing around him before releasing unexpectedly

your thighs shuddered, crying and sputtering around jon’s cock

sweetness coating yuta’s stomach as you came down from your high.

“oh little one, you came so quickly, we’ve barely started with you” claudio mocked, tugging your hair roughly, jon’s cock slipping out of your mouth, allowing you air for the moment

slapping the tip of his cock on the flat of your tongue

jon slapped your cheek, sending your mind reeling with pleasure, a thrum of arousal made your cunt clench around yuta’s size.

the youngest of the three still on a high from the reaction of your orgasm, holding your hips down so you had little room to move.

“we’re not done with you yet, dollface.” jon handed his phone to claudio, who promptly began filming you from behind

“you ain’t leaving until we’re satisfied”

you gulped thickly, feeling the three of them close in on you.

claudio started moving again with a particularly rough thrust

his tongue drawing circles against the carotid artery in your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin

jon entered your mouth once more, making sure to fill your throat fully

pressing his cock down your throat until your nose was nestled in the scraggly mound of pubic hair

adoring the choked gulps and gags that tried to escape from your throat

claudio kept the camera poised on your ass

so intricately filling the way he slipped in and out of your tight hole with ease.

“so good for us little one” he murmured against your skin

poor yuta was on the brink of release, the sheer grip of your cunt about to send him over the edge

“fuck, i’m so fucking close…” he grunted, the veins in his throat becoming present.

“gonna fill this pretty little pussy up. you’d like that wouldn’t you, angel? you wanna be left dripping with my cum?”

“our cum…” jon corrected, hinting at the definite conclusion to this scenario

you could not help but nod in response, frantic gasps and moans left your throat whenever jon would pull back

“look at her, she’s practially begging for it” claudio chimed in

now handing the phone to yuta, ready to film his cum dripping from within you

“oh shit-“ yuta grunted, warm threads of his seed filling you to the brim as he fucked you with full force

capturing the way his cum seeped from your void around his cock

your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, clearly enjoying this foreign feeling

completely unaware of your second orgasm rushing through you.

“good whore…” jon praised you, pushing your shoulders down so that yuta’s cock was nestled deeply in your cunt

you effectively cockwarming the youngest

claudio remained silent as yuta continued to film

the swissman’s length pushing deep into your tight hole, groping and squeezing your breasts as he came, remaining to stay inside you, just like yuta until he fully emptied himself

jon on the other hand, was frantic in his movements, holding fistfuls of your hair as he fucked your throat

“god, i’m gonna make a mess of you, doll” his groans reverberated against the concrete walls of his basement

quickly retrieving his phone from yuta, whose stomach was drenched in your spit and cum

jon continued to film through his orgasm, pumping his seed down your throat as you choked and sputtered around his length

quickly pulling out of you to drench your face in the last few spurts of his cum.

yuta and claudio pulled out of you breathlessly

a sigh of content and relief on your part, body exhausted and overwhelmed from their work

your knees were weak as claudio helped you to stand, a single hand wrapped around your waist while yuta took your wrists

“enjoy yourself, angel?” yuta mentioned after a moment of silence

your throat still raw and red from jon’s abuse, you could only muster a small nod, to which yuta responded with a chaste kiss to your lips

claudio followed suit, his kiss lingering just a second more.

you turned your attention to jon, placing his phone back into his bag

“y-you’re not gonna do anything with that…are you?” you mentioned to the recording, feeling a song of anxiety in your stomach

“oh god no, doll” he reiterated, eyes widening slightly. “that was just to scare ya a bit, trust me it’s for our eyes only”

jon pet your head, almost mockingly. but there was a genuine playfulness behind it

“why don’t we get you cleaned up, little one?” claudio suggested, his chin resting atop your shoulder, you gave another nod as yuta went to retrive your clothes

“hey jon?” you questioned, his eyes popping up to greet yours

“could you send me that video?”

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[faggotmox]

title: eyes wide shut, i promise not to fall awake rating: explicit pairing: Wheeler Yuta/Jon Moxley, Wheeler Yuta/Bryan Danielson, Wheeler Yuta/Claudio Castagnoli, background Yuta/Mox/Claudio/Bryan/Regal word count: 11,526 warnings: rape, past rape, abuse, non-consensual drug use, drugged sex, non-consensual bondage, delusions, drug abuse, budding drug addiction to be clear, mental health issues, inability to distinguish reality from not reality, fantasizing, distant partner, come play, blood play. blood kink, arousal from rape, topping from the bottom, daddy kink, domestic issues, dirty talk, free use (kinda), William Regal Haunts the Narrative, post-traumatic stress disorder, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat notes: shout out to sarah for helping proof this :D more notes under the cut, more tags on ao3 link summary: There's a match Saturday on Collision against Anthony Henry, but Yuta can't even remember what day it is anymore. series: the ancient art of quiet rape, part two

[link to ao3] [ao3 series page] [part one on tumblr]

more authors notes: I strongly urge anyone with issues reading about the experience of not being able to distinguish reality from not reality may not want to read this fic. Through out the work Yuta will be unable to remember a lot of things, and struggles with figuring out whats real and what isn't.

To be clear about some of the above tags: Yuta will be drugged during part of this fic. In other parts he will be popping pills. Yuta does not remember the events of the hospital, or that he was raped. He thinks its just a nightmare. During certain parts of this fic Yuta will fantasize about raping another character, and have dreams about being raped. Mox will mention his past with being raped in an erotic way. Yuta will be aroused by being raped.

I do feel it necessary to explain all of this since this is sensitive. I want people to enjoy this work about erotic rape and erotic abuse, not be hurt by it! (cringe shit I say but mean even though it's cringe).

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"Learning to perfect the ancient art of quiet rape, You've always been so warm and calculated, I owe you a thanks, Eyes wide shut, I promise not to fall awake, Lick the guillotine and tell you how the gasoline tastes, The grass is always greener on the other pesticide." --Eyedea & Abilities, 'Burn Fetish'

The house was always quiet. It never used to be like this, but then again there used to be a few more people around. Instead it’s just Yuta, living like a ghost in Bryan’s house. That’s what it is now. Just Bryan’s place. None of them had ever officially moved in but for some reason everyone mostly gravitated to staying there. Yuta just felt like a guest now.

Mostly Bryan was resting. Especially the first few days. There was a lot on his mentor’s mind as he tried to recover, there was a title to defend after all, but they weren’t really speaking. Sure Yuta asked what Bryan needed, how he was doing, what they would have to eat, and so on. Bryan answered. Sure they spoke here and there, but they didn't talk.

The thing was, Yuta knew he was acting strange. Lately everything made his skin crawl, every sound made him jump. Anything salty was likely to tip him into an anxiety attack. He felt like a shell of a person, terrified of nothing he could understand. Most of the time he was barely present. All day he spent checking on Bryan or training, at night he couldn’t sleep so he watched matches.

In the mirror Yuta could see the toll of sleeplessness. The nightmare plagued the young man even when he was awake. Every reiteration left Yuta with less memory, but more of a vivid feeling. Something that couldn’t be shaken off. Clinging to him like plastic, suffocating and uncomfortable.

There was so much Yuta couldn’t hide, and while he knew Bryan was recovering as well as dealing with his own trauma, the man never seemed to notice. For Yuta’s own health he had to write it off as Bryan just dealing with his own stuff. Sure, that was understandable. After all, it was Bryan who actually went through something.

“Hey, Wheeler?” Bryan’s still hoarse voice asked over the sound of cooking.

“Hm?” Yuta wasn’t actually listening, he was paying attention to the pan as he made dinner. Not really, he was actually completely zoned out.

“Why haven’t you been staying in the bed with me?” Bryan asked but he wasn’t looking at the younger man. There was a slight uncomfortableness to him even bringing it up.

“Hm.” Yuta just shrugged, not hearing the question.

“Yuta.” Bryan’s voice was louder, a little mad now. It snapped the other out of it.

“What? Sorry. My head’s somewhere else, Bryan,” Yuta admitted, glancing over to see how much he pissed his mentor off.

“Yeah. I noticed.” The slight snark to it made Yuta wince. “I just asked why you hadn’t been staying in the bed with me.”

“I…” Yuta put the spatula down so he could lean on the counter. “Just figured you needed space while you recovered.”

“Thoughtful of you,” Bryan mumbled sarcastically.

There was something that just snapped in Yuta. Hands balling up into fists as he tried to control himself. A few deep breaths until he was able to turn off the stove. Yuta turned sharply to face Bryan sitting at the breakfast bar.

“Honestly, I can’t fucking sleep, Bryan. I didn’t want to be keeping you up. So fuck you.” Yuta made sure he didn’t raise his voice, forcing the rage boiling inside of him to a simmer.

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry.” Bryan got up to come hold Yuta. Normally it’d be sweet but today it made Yuta want to scream. “You are being thoughtful. I just…missed you in bed.”

“Oh…” Yuta shrank into the hug, putting his arms around the shorter man. “Sorry.”

“It’s a two way street, right?” Bryan kissed the younger man’s cheek. “Have you tried taking your Xanax before bed? They make you really sleepy.”

“Not really. They’re for panic attacks so I didn’t think about that,” Yuta admitted, realizing he could do that. “Fuck it. Haven’t slept since you were released. I’ll take one after dinner and we can go to sleep.”

“Only if you think it’ll help. It was just a suggestion.” Bryan finally let go.

“Yeah. I do think it’ll help.” Yuta nodded, sure that it couldn't hurt at least.

Right after they ate, Yuta took a pill before cleaning up the kitchen. Bryan said he had a little headache so he needed to lay down. That was fine, Yuta wasn’t too worried about it. For a while he’d work on the dishes and when he got too tired he’d go upstairs.

The slow ascent up the steps exhausted Yuta. Each foot weighed down by dread. Despite this being what he wanted from Bryan, wanting to be noticed in his own suffering, it just felt bad. Anxiety and worry were overpowering even the medication the closer he got to the bedroom.

It felt strange, almost dreamlike to walk into the bedroom. Everything was practically how it was the last time Yuta was here. Like a time capsule of before. The sheets were different than they had been before the weekend. It was jarring to see that none of Mox or Claudio’s scattered things weren’t thrown out or even put away.

Yuta was too exhausted to think about it as he sat on the edge of the bed, opposite where the sleeping Dragon laid. House shoes kicked off, Yuta slid into bed fully clothed. The room was cool but not cold enough for a hoodie, sweatpants, or even his socks. He made sure to stay out of the covers, pushing them over towards Bryan who was already asleep.

Even with the Xanax sleep was elusive. Every so often he’d nod off but he wouldn’t sleep. As the minutes ticked by, Yuta lost more and more patience. The room was too quiet; the sound of Yuta’s racing thoughts were loud like bumps on the mat. The temperature of the room seemed to fluctuate between way too hot and slightly too cold.

In an act of frustration Yuta fished the pill bottle out of his pocket. Shaking out two more light blue pills to go into his mouth. There had to be relief somewhere, right now it looked like it might be at the bottom of the bottle. Yuta remembered Mox half jokingly telling him that if he chewed the pills up they’d hit faster, so he did that.

To balance out the advice from the other man, Yuta started doing some of the breathing exercises Bryan taught him. Slowly things started to even out as the combination of breathing and chewing the pills sent the tingling of calm. Closing his eyes, Yuta was finally met with darkness instead of ghosts.

+++

As soon as Yuta woke up he knew something was wrong. This wasn’t the same bedroom he had fallen asleep in. As he looked around, heart beating out of his chest he realized that he was at…Claudio’s place? It was the guest bedroom that nobody really used. Except most of Yuta’s things were there. Everything that was important to him seemed to be in the room.

Panic was flooding the young man as he got out of the bed, the covers were thrown back violently. Yuta ran towards the door, but his heart sank when the handle didn’t move.

“What the fuck, what the fuck.” Yuta rushed around the room but couldn’t figure out what he was looking for.

It felt like hours went by, but Yuta ran out of steam early. It seemed impossible. Everything was surreal. Like the fact there was a bathroom he didn’t remember from before. The door was heavy and he knew he wouldn't be able to get it open. He thought there was a window in this room but it was nowhere to be found.

A loud knock came at the door finally. The silence had lulled Yuta into a dreamlike state and the noise made him jump up to his feet, stumbling slightly. The hinges to the door didn’t make any noise as it opened. On the other side was Mox, a big grin on his face as he strolled inside. Jeans slung low with a sway to his hips. No shirt for some reason, giving Yuta a glorious view of his hairy chest.

“Hey, kid. Glad you’re up. Feeling okay?” Mox didn’t seem to mind the door latching behind him as he got closer. “Gave you a bit to cal--”

“What the fuck is this, Jon?!” Yuta shouted, so much anger welling up.

“Um…it’s the thing you wanted, man. I didn’t decide on this. I didn’t come up with it, or let myself be here. You wanted this.” Mox frowned, a look of hurt coming across his face. “Remember? At the hospital when we talked about this?”

“What? What hospital? I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about, Jon!” Yuta snapped. “Why are my drums here? Why is my computer here? All my clothes, books, movies, what the hell is this! Answer me!”

“Fucking christ. You gotta calm the fuck down. We got your fuckin’ pills too.” Mox pointed towards the nightstand. “If you relax, I’ll refresh your damn memory.”

“Calm down? You’ve got me locked in some damn room--” Yuta’s fists balled up as he contained his rage at being cut off.

“Just shut up for a minute.” Mox waved him off. “When we were at the hospital in Chicago we talked about how we wanted to keep you locked up, free to use whenever we wanted, the only time we let you out is to go wrestle.”

“Wha…” Yuta’s brain was flooded with all that memory. “We didn’t agree-- I didn’t--”

“We all know this is exactly where you want to be.” Mox sighed as he glanced back at the door. “I’ll go, if you still need to adjust. I just wanted to get my dick wet, honestly.”

“You just wanted to get your fucking dick wet? Do you hear yourself?!” Yuta took a step closer.

“I hear myself, kid. I know exactly what’s going on.” Mox’s face darkened as he stepped closer too. The threatening action made Yuta pause. “This is the whole reason you’re here. It’s what you’re good for. So I can go, give you more time to relax, but the longer you make me wait the worse it gets.”

The hospital came to mind as the threat set in. The violent violation by his fellow faction mates allowed cracks to form in Yuta, hairline fractures that weakened him as a whole. Mox knew that, even if Yuta didn’t. A little pressure on the right part would cause him to shatter. Being blindsided by his own mental state, Yuta just stared. How could this be real? Surely Bryan would notice he was missing or something?

One large hand landed on Yuta’s shoulder, moving around to the back of his neck. Gripping, holding tight but it wasn’t rough. Mox wasn’t hurting him, just pulling him closer and closer.

“Bryan ain’t coming to find you. You’ve already been gone for three days, kid.” Mox spoke quietly, slowly like he was breaking bad news.

“No, no. That’s…Bryan wouldn’t…” Yuta started to shake his head but he knew it was true. He knew that Bryan may not even notice he was missing because his mentor didn’t really care.

“I could give you your phone right now and there wouldn’t be a missed call or text from daddy.” Mox tacked on the last part just to be cruel, to really drive it home. That broke Yuta more as he started crying. “You don’t got a match for a while either, so no one at work is wonderin’.”

“Jon, please,” Yuta begged as everything inside of him crumbled.

“So, is it now or later? I’m getting impatient here.” Mox sighed as he let go, finally looking away.

Yuta stared at the older man as the gravity of the situation started to sink in. This was his new world. It felt insane to just drop to his knees but what other choice did he have? Eventually they’d just take what they wanted from him; that much Yuta learned the night at the hospital. At least he could save himself some pain maybe if he just sank to his knees now.

+++

The bedroom was bright and sunny, a window open to hear nature’s tune. Light sparkled through the currents. Sheets and comforters cocooned Yuta in the empty bed. It was hard to orient himself but Yuta focused on slowing down his breathing. Something was making the bed shake, it took a moment for Yuta to realize it was him.

Shaking like a leaf would be an understatement. Yuta was trembling. Even being all wrapped up, with the addition of his heavy choice in pajamas, didn’t stop it. In fact Yuta could feel himself sweating profusely, his heart jackhammering like he’d just spent an hour running the ropes.

As everything eased back into reality, Yuta was able to slowly get out of the bedding. The clothes he wore to bed were drenched in sweat, but at least it wasn’t on the bed. Cool air ran past his body but did little to quell the heat.

Once Yuta was up on his feet he noticed how bad he felt. Maybe he’d caught something. His throat felt raw and scratchy, all his joints were aching, and he had a headache despite just waking up. The clothes were sticking to his skin uncomfortably.

The hoodie was stripped first, tossed to the side as socked feet took Yuta to the bathroom. It was too bright but Yuta couldn’t do anything about it. His balance had yet to even out so he held onto the sink as he walked by, glancing at his ghostly form in the mirror.

Cold water ran into the sink, swirling down the drain as Yuta started at himself. He looked awful. Even though he slept his eyes still had bags under them, he was pale, and looked vaguely sick. Yuta could admit the look in his eyes was bad, he looked like he’d given up. Something was broken inside of him but he had no idea what.

At this point Yuta couldn’t remember basically anything from the nightmare he’d had at the hospital. Now he could barely recall the one that had just happened. It was starting to really piss him off that he just had no recollection of the things haunting him, he couldn't see them so he couldn’t deal with them.

“Stress, huh.” Yuta rolled his eyes, remembering the nurse expressing concern about his stress.

Finally, Yuta bent down to wash his face off. The cool water added a refreshing relief. Everything else started cooling down too. Getting all the grime and sweat off his face made Yuta feel significantly more human.

“Where is Bryan?” Yuta muttered to himself as he dried off his hands.

It wasn’t like Bryan was supposed to be anywhere. Bed rest had been prescribed for nearly a week. The first thing Yuta did was find his phone on the bedside table. The battery was low since the night before he hadn’t cared much if his phone was charged. The display didn’t have any messages, nothing from his mentor.

There was the possibility that Bryan was somewhere downstairs but after a quick sweep there was no one. Not even in the garden. Both of their cars were there, which was good since Bryan wasn’t supposed to be driving.

It annoyed Yuta to wake up alone. No message or indicator of where his injured partner was at. Of course Bryan just took off, that was just what he was good at. Yuta groaned to himself as he tried to back track that line of thought. After all, Bryan probably just didn’t want to wake him up since he knew Yuta hadn’t been sleeping. Not that it was even good sleep. Yuta felt more tired than he had the day before.

After some contemplation Yuta decided to just go take a shower. That would probably do him some good, right, and he’d find some fresh clothes too.

+++

The hot water cascaded over Yuta’s body while he ducked under the spray. It was probably too hot, his skin already taking on a pink tone. Something needed to be washed away, even if Yuta couldn’t articulate what it was that he needed to clean off himself.

Ever since the PPV it was like a layer of filth was stuck to Yuta’s skin. Each shower did nothing to rid him of the disgusting feeling. Something was weaving its way through his skin, sewing patches of filth over the cracks. Every pore felt like it was seeping and oozing.

Without looking, Yuta reached over to the shelf to grab body wash. A few bottles clattered over, one even rolling off. It stayed at the bottom of the shower; Yuta was too preoccupied to care. The faded red washcloth was lathered up quickly, and taken to his own skin like sandpaper.

Every inch of tan skin was scrubbed red raw. The strong smell of sandalwood emanated from the suds, a tiny hint of vanilla. It was hypnotic, and Yuta paused with his chest and arms done. The bubbles were washed off patches of raw skin as the smell lingered, assaulting Yuta’s memories like a punching bag.

“Fuck, Mox.” Yuta’s moans echoed in the tiled shower.

Yuta could recall the scent well. Even during training, all sweaty and wet, Yuta could smell the lingering notes of sandalwood and vanilla on Mox. It was one of the things he loved when Mox would cuddle up to him or sit too close. Comfortable and safe, until a few days prior.

Looking down, Yuta saw himself getting hard at the memories of Mox. Strong muscle, coarse hair, and the smell. Cigarettes, sandalwood, and just a little vanilla. As Yuta’s cock filled out his mind brought up images of Mox, but he fixated on a memory he had of the other man.

Hand on his cock Yuta envisioned Mox, in some nondescript hotel room with sheets to match. Sometimes if Mox was tired enough he’d fall asleep in his towel after a shower. Laying face down on the bed, Mox’s back glistened, still damp and warmed from the water. Yuta thought about all the details.

The way Mox’s scars caught water, how his body hair dried. The way the sleeping man had both arms under his head as a pillow. One foot slightly off the bed. Peaceful slumber painted his face as Yuta stepped closer and closer. One hand undoing his belt, quietly pulling it through each loop.

The tantalizing scene in Yuta’s head played out as he stroked his throbbing cock. A light hand worked his shaft so he didn’t get too excited. This was a fantasy he wanted to actually experience instead of rush through. It wasn’t something he’d ever indulged with before now, and he didn’t know why that changed.

In his mind Yuta started undoing the button and zipper of his jeans as he got to the hotel bed. One knee planted between Mox’s legs as he reached up to bring the other man’s hands down. It took a few seconds to thread his belt around Mox’s wrist until he was tied up.

“Yoots?” Mox muttered, his tired face turning towards the younger man.

“Yeah, Mox?” Yuta started to peel the towel back to reveal one of the best asses he’d ever seen. Thick muscles sculpted into two beautiful globes. “So hot.”

“Wha’s up?” Mox shook his wrists, sleepiness still affecting his judgment.

“Don’t worry about that, baby,” Yuta assured the other as he moved around.

“‘Kay.” Mox let his head fall back onto the bed, eyes closing because of the trust he had in his young boy.

Yuta mounted Mox with ease, his cock slipping between the other’s cheeks. The rush of power and euphoria made Yuta’s head spin. There was a slight grunt from Mox as the weight settled down and the rough material of jeans scratched his skin. It didn’t matter, not to Yuta, and neither did the uncomfortable position his prey was in.

Below him there was some shifting from Mox as he realized how uncomfortable the position felt. A slight strain of the back and tensing of muscles let Yuta know the other was exactly where he wanted. Hands started tracing the damp scars, finding nonexistent patterns and shapes.

“Hm?” Mox tried to look back.

“Ready for me, baby?” Yuta grunted as he sat up on his knees, pushing the other’s legs further apart.

“No? I don’t…wha?” Mox shook his head as he felt the pressure against his hole.

No lube or prep went into it. It took a lot of effort to push in, and when he did Mox howled in pain. The belt was tugged and pulled but kept Mox immobilized as Yuta fucked into him. It felt so good, Yuta thought, as he slammed into the man below him.

“Fuck! Wheeler!” Mox cried out. “Please!”

“Please what, bitch?” Yuta was breathless, losing all composure.

“Stop!” Mox cried. “It hurts. Please?”

“Stop? You want me to stop?” Yuta breathlessly spoke as he leaned over Mox’s back. “No. I’m taking what’s mine.”

The hot water of the shower washed the seed away as Yuta came hard into his hand. It was good, even satisfying, Yuta realized as he came down from the euphoria. The fantasy stayed there, playing more even after Yuta finished. Thinking about the way Mox would fight back, wiggling to get away maybe. The violence of the situation made Yuta feel like he could go again.

Before he could delve more into this newly uncovered fantasy, the bathroom door opened. Yuta jumped, turning to look even though the glass of the door was fogged over. The place was filled with steam from the too hot shower, even wiping the glass didn’t help. For some reason Yuta’s anxiety ramped up thinking it was maybe Mox or Claudio, he wasn’t exactly sure why that also made him even more horny.

“Wheeler?” Bryan’s voice called. “You better be in there. That’s a lot of water to wa--”

“I’m here. Yeah.” Yuta squeaked, quickly reaching out to turn the temperature down. “Are you okay? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

“I’m good.” Bryan’s cheerful voice played over the rushing of water. “I went for a run af--”

Yuta threw the door of the shower open frantically.

“You went for a run? Bryan, you’re not cleared!” Yuta shouted, suddenly unreasonably angry. “What the hell is wrong with you? After what happ--”

“Wheeler, Wheeler. Relax.” Bryan frowned. “I went this morning while you slept after I got medically cleared to start training again. I’m fine.”

“That was today?” Yuta looked the other man over. Seeing his boyfriend in running gear made his stomach knot up. “I-I was supposed to go with you.”

“It was just a doctor’s appointment. You were asleep finally so I didn’t wake you up. Wheeler, you’ve got a match soon and you’ve not slept at all.” Bryan cocked his head to the side. “You don’t even know what day it is.”

“I-I-” Yuta closed his eyes tightly as he tried to focus and figure out what the fuck was happening.

“You’re wasting water, Wheeler,” Bryan pointed out with disappointment.

“Sorry.” Yuta turned to get back in so he could turn the water off completely. “I just wanted to be there, Bryan.” The fluffy blue towel wrapped around Yuta’s waist as he hung his head.

“You leave tonight for Ohio,” Bryan sighed as he finished undressing.

“I do?” Yuta considered the days, frowning at the mirror. When had he lost so many days? “Uh, wh-who am I--?”

“Fuck. You don’t even know? I need you to focus, Wheeler, okay? Do you understand me?” Bryan’s stern voice felt like a cheese grater. “You’re wrestling Anthony Henry in Ohio on Collision.”

“Okay. Well.” Yuta shrugged, finally standing up right. “I can beat Henry.”

“Not if you’re going to be this distracted. Not knowing what day it is, who you’re matched up against, not training, not sleeping. You’re going to forget your boots too.” Bryan rolled his eyes.

“Fuck you. I’ve been--” Yuta paused, unable to articulate anything.

“You’ve been what, Wheeler?” Bryan shook his head. “You’ve been distracted. Figure it out. You can’t let what happened distract you. Got it?”

The nerve of Bryan saying that struck something in Yuta. For a moment he just stared at the other man, trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe Bryan was in denial or something, Yuta couldn’t just ask. Neither one of them was ready to talk about it. Clearly.

“Got it.” Yuta nodded curtly before exiting the bathroom.

+++

Traveling alone, to Ohio no less, was a tough experience. Even though Yuta had traveled by himself before this felt different. This was alone. There wasn’t going to be anyone waiting for him here or on the connecting flight, not at the hotel or even the arena. Even Bryan couldn’t do the drop off since he wasn’t supposed to be driving yet.

Not that Bryan seemed to want to take his prodigy. That was something Yuta had to just chalk up to Bryan still being messed up from Chicago. That was what he had to keep telling himself about a lot of things.

The whole trip was numbing. No excitement or anxiety bubbling up. Granted that could have been the excess of pills he had been taking. By the time Yuta got into his hotel room he was ready to pass out. At least he hoped he was, because he still hadn’t slept. The night before didn’t count because he woke up still exhausted.

In the morning Yuta had to get up to work out, something he promised his mentor. Now he was thinking about just skipping it. No one would notice. Sleeping was probably more important. Another pill was popped while the rest sat on the bedside table.

Despite best efforts, Yuta tossed and turned unable to fully rest. There weren’t any vivid, unrememberable nightmares this time. Small things to be thankful for, he thought while staring at the shadows passing across the ceiling. Yuta tried not to think about how the morning would come soon, leaving him unrested for his match.

Yuta let his mind wander since nothing else was working. Slowly his eyes drifted closed to the fantasy he had about Mox while in the shower. The way Mox looked while struggling, the sounds he was making. It was easy to conjure up the scene, after all Yuta knew Mox pretty well at this point.

It had never occurred to Yuta he may have a rape kink, but here he was fantasizing about just that. Yuta also didn’t take long, just thinking about Mox begging him to stop sending him over. Come spilled over into his hand with a grunt, still thinking about forcing Mox.

Getting up was out of the question so Yuta just cleaned himself off with his t-shirt. The smear of come across the old BCC logo wasn’t lost on him. Settling back in Yuta realized he was still thinking about it. What would it be like to force such a strong man? Make him beg and cry?

As Yuta pondered just those things he started to drift off, finding peace as he fell asleep. Actually fell asleep, and the sleep was good. Relief and recovery flooded Yuta, he was sure he could have slept for days if not for the courtesy call from the front desk. The one Bryan made him set up just to be sure Yuta got some training in and didn’t oversleep.

Training was the last thing the young man wanted to do. The hotel gym was empty since it was so early. Yuta tried to motivate himself through the workout by telling himself he could go straight back to bed until it was show time. There just wasn't anything there. No drive or focus.

“I can beat Henry,” Yuta mumbled to himself.

The reflection from the mirror caught the haunted look. The stress, pain, and disconnection all etched into his face. Exhaustion stayed creeping around the edges, threatening to reinvade. Breaks in the mask that Yuta put on for everyone else, little fractures that would soon become a serious threat.

Considering how he had been eating lately, which was nothing at all, Yuta realized he needed to eat if he was going to wrestle tonight. Even though Yuta wasn't hungry he figured that could be why he looked so terrible. There wasn’t much he had been eating lately. Once up in his room Yuta called for room service, ordering a decent sized breakfast and coffee. The likelihood of him eating everything was slim but at least there would be coffee.

By the time the bell boy came by with Yuta’s breakfast he was showered and watching some movie. After handing off the tip Yuta sat down as the guy left the room. None of the food looked that good to him as he stared down what he ordered. After heavy consideration the coffee and the waffles were taken first. Settling back on the couch to watch the movie, so he had a distraction while he ate.

“Nothing?” The head FBI agent asked in the movie.

“Nothing,” the main guy responded.

“Go home, kid. Get the hell outta here. Get some sleep. You look like shit. They get anything even resembles your guy, I'm on your beeper. Here. You like feta?” The boss agent was offering food to the main guy.

“Feta. My favorite.”

Yuta wasn’t paying much attention, but he realized he’d seen this movie a lot. Like a lot. Enough to remember most of the lines.

“Johnny…” the boss agent said as Yuta finally looked up at the screen, drinking his lukewarm hotel coffee. “All I wanna know is one thing, why didn't you just take the shot?”

“I don't know,” Johnny responded.

“I see why Mox thinks this movie is hot,” Yuta mumbled against the ceramic edge of the cup as the next scene rolled around.

Most of the coffee was gone so quick, Yuta figured it was time to dive into the food. Nothing looked good, but nothing had for days now. The first bite of waffle was actually fantastic. Yuta moaned softly as he started eating quicker. The sweet fluffiness filled Yuta up. New life came over him as he felt warmer and happier as soon as the food hit his stomach.

Even Yuta’s anxiety and depression were lifting. The slow, deep ache he was constantly feeling started to recede. Weight was taken from his shoulders allowing him to actually relax, sinking into the couch as the movie flashed interestingly in front of him. Food practically forgotten about, his entire existence changed.

The couch was breaking away leaving Wheeler feeling like he was floating in water. Gently drifting along the surface in the calm, cool currents. Waves gently rolling onto the beach. A liquid lull that nearly pulled Yuta into blessed sleep. Eyes and body getting heavier like sand washing up on the shore.

The movie played on regardless of Yuta’s state. Mesmerizing colors traced across the scene. As the weight of exhaustion dragged Yuta down he finally drifted off for a moment, thinking about how he needed to set an alarm. Just in case he overslept, but he couldn't will his body into action.

Just as the last bit of consciousness left Yuta he could have sworn he heard the mechanical lock whirling to life on the door. Someone was coming into the hotel room. Even the threat of an unknown person in the room couldn’t motivate Yuta into doing anything more than tip his head to the side to try to see.

“Hey, you’re watching my favorite movie, prince.” Mox’s voice floated through Yuta’s psyche.

+++

Stress. It was all the stress. Like the nurse had said back when Bryan was in the hospital, stress is a very serious thing. This was another stress nightmare. That was the only way Yuta could accept what was happening. Even everything felt the same as that night, as fleeting as Yuta’s memory was of that event.

Slowly waking up to a much darker hotel, it was difficult for Yuta to adjust. The TV was still playing the movie, the food was still out, and he was still on the couch. Somehow it felt different, even looked a little different. Like a dream.

Just like a dream Mox was standing there. Beautifully basked in the glow of his preferred movie, attention captivated by the moving frames. The three quarter profile really showed Mox off to Yuta as he scanned over the shirtless frame of his boyfriend (yes, ex). The trim waist made Mox’s ass pop. Yuta’s eyes hovered over the thick muscles of the other man’s backside before moving up to examine his abs and the way muscle flexed around Mox’s ribcage, and perfectly defined pecs covered in wiry hair.

On screen the final fight between the two guys played, Mox’s eyes locked onto the image. While Patrick Swazye and Keanu Reeves backdropped each other, Mox started undoing his jeans. There was an audible sigh from the pseudo king at the relief. The light blue jockstrap peeked out from under the jeans slipping down his hips.

“This has gotta be a dream,” Yuta muttered as he let his head fall back.

“There’s my prince.” Mox easily tore his eyes away from the screen to smile at his young boy, preferring Yuta to his own favorite movie.

“Wha’s goin’ on, Jon?” Yuta hated not being able to speak well, his words bleeding out at the ends.

“You have a match tonight,” Mox mentioned as he walked around to stand over the other. “You almost done?”

“Wha?” Yuta blinked a few times before he heard another voice.

“One minute and I’ll be finished, King.” Claudio’s voice came from behind the couch.

“Wha’ the fuck?” Yuta jumped, trying to move but nothing moved. In fact something pulled.

“Don’t start that, sweetheart.” Mox reached out to run his fingers through Yuta’s hair, pacifying the panic with affection. “Claudio’s just making sure you’re secure, then it’ll be just the two of us.”

“Jus’ t’two of us?” Yuta blinked up at the other man. Feelings came back to him as he remembered the hospital, instead of being afraid he was confused and horny. Just like now.

“Finished.” Claudio’s voice came over the room once more.

“That was exactly one minute.” Mox grinned over the couch at the other.

“I know,” Claudio acknowledged as he walked around to look at the young man on the couch. “We didn’t want you to strain yourself before your match.”

Mox nodded along, hand coming up to cup the back of Claudio’s head to pull him down for a kiss. Just as they had at the hospital the pair bit more than kissed. Mox did all the biting as he bit into Claudio’s mouth until the larger man bled. There wasn’t as much red as there had been but Claudio wore it proudly, stars lighting up his eyes as he looked down at Mox.

“You’re good,” Mox muttered against the other’s lips.

“I am?” Claudio’s whisper made Yuta feel like this was a moment he wasn’t supposed to experience. It felt odd, out of place. It kind of made the younger man feel even more like he was in a fever dream.

“You are.” Mox placed the larger man’s hand over the tacky cross necklace he had been wearing.

“Thank you, King.” Claudio bowed his head to the other man before starting to step back, but the ‘King’ stopped him.

“If you’d like to say anything to him, give him a little something.” Mox nodded towards Yuta. “Want him to remember who cares about him after all.”

“It is your night--” Claudio shook his head humbly as if he couldn’t even consider taking this time away from his king.

“Remember when it comes to the prince, he’s ours,” Mox insisted.

Yuta was sure he was in some sort of fever dream now. It wasn’t just the fog in his brain. It wasn’t often Claudio was vulnerable like that, in so few words. To Yuta that wasn’t something his old boyfriend would do. Or maybe he was just in denial about what was happening? Thoughts raced back and forth until Claudio came over.

“Sweetheart.” Claudio knelt down, one knee on the carpet just like a knight paying respect.

“Claudio?” Yuta felt teary eyed for some reason.

“I want you to know something very important.” Claudio made sure they kept eye contact, making sure their young boy was listening. “You are an incredible wrestler. Accept your violence. I can tell no one has been taking care of you during this time.” There was a pause where the Swiss giant had to collect himself. “I know you must be exhausted, but you have tonight under control.”

“Wha’?” Yuta recoiled at the faithful trust the other still had in him.

“You can beat Henry any day of the week, under any conditions. I know you can because I trained you.” Claudio bowed his head. “Do not let anyone make you believe you can’t handle what you’re doing tonight. You’ll win, sweetheart.”

“I-I-” Yuta felt himself start to cry a little. Crisp, high emotions soared through every space in his body as the words being directed towards him. “--love you.”

“I love you too.” Claudio leaned forward to catch the other’s lips in a sickeningly sweet kiss sealed in the older man’s blood. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

The tall man stood up from his place kneeling in front of Yuta. Walking away towards the door like a ghost leaving the scene of a haunting. Every weird, strange feeling Yuta had been grappling with welled up like a tsunami, crashing against the sides of his skull. Yuta felt like he might drown in it.

Suddenly it all stopped. Calm waters washed over the shores. Yuta felt himself coming back down from the emotional high. The strange confessional left Yuta heartbroken and motivated in what he previously considered wrong directions. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back.

At some point it permeated Yuta that Claudio had been tying him up. The crafty freak was able to tie him down. Arms stretched over the back of the coarse hotel couch, wrists tied. There was just enough slack to not strain him. Both ankles were tied in some web Yuta couldn’t figure out. Probably anchored to the feet of the couch, but he wasn’t exactly sure.

What Yuta was sure about was that he was naked. All the clothes he had been wearing seemed to have vanished when he woke up. Not only was he nude, but his cock laid half hard against his thigh. Clearly interested in whatever this was, after all he had been jerking off to the reverse of this not long ago. (Maybe it was a wet dream, Yuta tried to convince himself).

“Hey, baby.” Mox smiled fondly as he walked over to his young boy. “How’re you doing?”

“Don’ know.” Yuta admitted as his eyes honed in on the other man’s crotch. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“I just wanted to see you before your match,” Mox admitted, a little shrug. “Been thinkin’ about you.”

“Huh.” Yuta couldn’t think of much more to say because Mox looked genuine. The cute puppy quality to the man’s eyes was there. It was the first hint Yuta really saw of his old boyfriend.

“I know you’re going through a lot right now. Everything seems too big and terrifying, I’m sure. Just trust us, okay?” Mox was in nothing but the jock that Yuta was pretty sure he got for the pseudo king. “I wanted it to be just the two of us right now.”

“Trust you?” Yuta laughed at that, maybe that wasn’t fair in such a tender moment but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Yeah. Trust us.” Mox frowned, reaching out to stroke Yuta’s beard. It was untamed at the moment. “Same way you trust Claudio to do your beard on match days.”

“I donno,” Yuta admitted, his eyes growing soft and heavy until he let them close. It was nice to feel affection again that didn’t make his skin crawl.

“That’s okay. I know. Claudio knows.” Mox let his hand drop to the back of the couch so he could move onto the couch himself, settling right on top of his young boy’s lap. “You’re ours, Wheeler. You belong with us. Sooner you realize that the better.”

There were too many words swimming around so Mox leaned in to kiss Yuta softly. Easy and calm, nothing like Yuta was expecting. Their lips danced together, tongues meeting. It was so good, lighting everything up for the younger man as he gave himself over. Slowly Mox started rocking his hips, allowing Yuta to rub his cock against the exposed ass on top of him.

Soft moans were exchanged as they both got into it. The ropes tugged when Yuta tried to move to touch the beautiful body above him. Mox snickered a little at Yuta’s whine. Large hands started to explore since the younger man clearly wanted to. Some kind of denial torment that made Yuta’s pulse quicken. Just the right kind of touches to really stir his appetite.

The hands stayed gentle as Mox’s mouth descended on his young boy’s neck. The rough bites and nips were playful. It felt good enough that Yuta tipped his head to the side so that the other had more skin. Mox was easily entertained, much like a puppy with a new chew toy, just gnawing at the hard muscles.

“Been worried about ya.” Mox finally stopped the oral assault to speak. “Like our big guy said, no one’s been taking care of you.”

“M’fine,” Yuta muttered, his hips rolling as his aching erection called for more attention.

“Don’t lie to me.” Mox cupped the younger man’s cheek, making them see eye to eye. “You don’t have to.”

“I--” Yuta’s head was so foggy he had no idea what he was thinking. “Dreamed o’you?”

“Asking or telling me that, kid?” Mox sat up, shifting back on the lap he was perched on.

“Tellin’.” Yuta blinked a few times, willing the haze to go away. “Oh fuck, Mox.”

A wet, warm hand wrapped around Yuta’s aching dick, a light squeeze that sent sparks all over his body. He felt heightened. Just that touch nearly had Yuta ending prematurely. The gentle glide of Mox’s hand was all he could focus on anymore.

“Feel good, baby?” Mox grinned, leaning in for another kiss. This time it was quicker. “Tell me your dream.”

“Ah. Dreamin’ righ’ now.” Yuta shrugged, or at least attempted to.

“That what it feels like, Wheeler? You’re dreamin’?” Mox questioned.

“Yeah. It’s ’ll warm an’ soft.” Yuta moaned at the skilled way the other knew his way around the cock in hand. “Feels good.”

“Tell me about your dream, sweetheart.” Mox returned to the topic at hand.

“S’not very nice,” Yuta admitted.

“Good. I like it when you’re mean.” Mox let go of his young boy’s cock.

“No,” Yuta whined and opened his eyes.

“Relax. Tell me the dream anyways.” Mox pushed as he repositioned himself over the hard dick he just had in his hand.

“Fuck, Mox.” Yuta was paying more attention as he felt the head of his cock press against Mox’s wet hole. Slight pressure. “Please, please, Wanna fuck you again…”

“You will, sweet prince. You will.” Mox groaned loudly, totally unashamed as he slowly took Yuta’s cock.

“It-- I--” Yuta could’t focus but he wanted to answer. Actually wanted to reveal himself to his tormentor.

“That’s it, Wheeler, fuck. You fill me so fuckin’ good.” Mox let out a sigh of relief as he seated himself fully on the younger man.

“R-Raped you,” Yuta confessed as they looked into each other’s eyes, deeply connected via each other’s bodies.

It wasn't just that Yuta saw how much that turned on Mox. He could feel it too. The insanely tight passage clenched around Yuta’s cock. There was a slight swivel of hips too. The aggressive hunger on Mox’s face pried more details out of the younger man.

“T-Tied your hands…up.” Yuta bit his lip as the man in his lap started moving. “W-With…my belt.”

“Fuck, Wheeler, I’m--” Mox shook his head as he started to really fuck himself. “I wish you had.”

“Fucked,” Yuta said breathlessly, not able to put the phrase together without a pause. “Dry.”

“Bet you did.” Mox groaned, one of his hands lacing through Yuta’s locks at the back of his head. “Fucked me dry until I cried, huh?” The hand tightened, pulling the younger man’s head back hard. “That’s so fuckin’ hot, you don’t even know.”

“It is?” Yuta couldn’t believe that but he thought it was hot obviously.

“Fuck, yeah. You wanna rape me, Wheeler? Make me your bitch? Maybe pay me back for all the shit I did?” Mox grinned at the wide eyed look directed at him.

“Yes!” Yuta nearly found himself shouting, trying to thrust up into Mox but finding little room.

“I want you to too,” Mox confessed right in Yuta’s ear.

Yuta felt his eyes roll back in his head. It was too much. Everything was too hot again. There was a burning inside of the young man, a need to take something back. All he wanted was to be able to break free of the ropes and throw Mox onto the floor. Hell, it seemed like even Mox wanted that. But the ropes didn’t budge. Of course not, Yuta thought to himself, this was exactly where he wanted to be after all.

For some reason Mox started to slow down. A slow, gradual rocking of the hips. It was good, teasingly tender and Yuta wanted to cry. This soft side was too reminiscent of before. Mox’s head was practically resting on Yuta’s shoulder, so the younger man tipped his head in to nuzzle Mox. There was a soft hum of approval that made Yuta smirk as he bit down hard on whatever he could find.

Mox growled in pain as he stopped moving. One rough hand landed on Yuta’s neck while he latched onto the underside of Mox’s jaw. The hand started to squeeze. At first Yuta thought Mox was about to choke him, but that wasn’t it. There was pressure at the bottom of Yuta’s jaw making him slowly unclench his jaw. The way one would do to a dog.

“Disappointing.” Mox grunted as he set up but kept a hand on his captive’s neck. Checking his own neck he touched the bite mark only to find saliva. “No blood?”

“I--” Yuta tried to say something, what he wasn’t sure of, but thankfully Mox stopped him before he needed to think of more words. The hand on his neck moved to tightly hold his chin. “Huh?”

“If you’re gonna hurt me, Wheeler,” Mox grunted as he wiped the spit off his neck onto his hand, “At least make it worth it. Make me bleed. I know you’re better than this.” Mox wiped the bit of spit across Yuta’s face. “You’ve made me bleed plenty of times. C’mon.”

“Fuck…you.” Yuta growled, tugging again at the ropes. “If--If not-- I’m tied down!”

“And I gave you the perfect opportunity to rip my throat out. Take it.” Mox growled.

Something inside Yuta woke up, a fire rekindled. Mox was right. He was capable of hurting the man on top of him, even bound, there were plenty of times Yuta was able to inflict violence. The first thought was to headbutt but they were too far apart with too little slack. Instead Yuta worked up all the spit he could. The medium sized glob landed on Mox’s cheek, catching in the ginger beard hairs.

“Atta boy.” Mox grinned down at his captive. “That’s what we want outta you.”

“Little closer,” Yuta said as he bared his teeth. “I’ll show you more.”

“You better, kid.” Mox winked.

Their lips met suddenly, a hard crash of teeth that pushed Yuta’s head back. The wet spot on the other man’s cheek smeared across Yuta’s darker beard. Tension amped as Mox prepared himself for whatever the younger man was going to do, but Yuta just kissed back.

Slowly Mox untensed, his body going slack as he started to ride his young boy again. The hand on Yuta’s jaw went lax too. An opportunity happened the moment Mox gave up on there being some sort violence. Without hesitation Yuta bit hard into the other man’s lip.

The taste of rich copper was well known to the both of them. Mox gave an initial jerk but Yuta didn’t let go. Sharp teeth dug in deeper the louder the older man moaned. It was hard but Yuta tried his best to buck his hips too. The little bit of room was just enough to send his message.

Blood was in Yuta’s beard now. Instead of pulling away Mox tried to lean in, less tension but it just gave Yuta the opportunity to latch onto another part of the torn lip. For a brief moment Yuta wished he would be able to inflict enough damage to cause stitches, but he doubted he could do that in his current state. Still he tried. His cock throbbed each time he heard the pained whimper from Mox.

One of Mox’s hands was on his own dick, while the other was pushing on Yuta’s shoulder again. Trying to create space or end their bloody kiss all together. It wasn’t going to be on Mox’s terms though. The more the older man tried to get out of the kiss the more Yuta kept his hold firm.

The static electric pleasure was bouncing off the both of them, wiring them together. Against his stomach Yuta could feel how rough Mox was being with his own dick. Hips moving up and down in quick, little motions that were driving Yuta insane but probably did wonders for Mox. Finally Mox dragged his hand over to Yuta’s throat and started to squeeze. A warning to let go.

Yuta did not let go. There was no warning he was willing to heed at this point. He snarled as the hand gripped tighter. The throb of Yuta’s pulse rushed in his ears, keeping time with the ache in his cock. Buried deep inside the man choking him, that man’s blood between them. They fucked as they fought, struggling in a strange display of parallel dominance.

Stars started sparkling in Yuta's vision as darkness carved out the edges. Carefully breathing through the choking was ingrained in the young man, but it was eventually too much. Mox’s bloodied mouth was released, Yuta’s head falling back as he searched for air. Once released Mox let go of his young boy’s neck.

The entire time Mox had his hand on his dick. After a few seconds Yuta could barely open his eyes, looking up at the pseudo king. Red smeared, some even dripping. Mox looked so pleased, so turned on. Finally the hand on his dick stopped only to come up to collect some blood and reach back into his jock.

“Fuck,” Yuta muttered, opened-mouth breathing because of all the blood and spit.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Mox smirked like he had achieved something but the younger man just shook his head.

“It’s hot,” Yuta admitted, his eyes trying to catch sight of the inside of the jock. “Lemme see your hand.”

“Sick fuck.” Mox once more brought his hand out, presenting it to Yuta.

All of the mixed fluids gathered in Yuta’s mouth were spat into the awaiting hand. It wasn’t going to be good lube; there was something disgusting and hot about Mox smearing his spit and blood all over his dick. The look of pleasure that came over his face made Yuta moan too.

“S’hot. H-Hard--” Yuta tried to encourage. “Harder.”

“Hm. Demanding brat.” Mox’s tongue stuck out a little as he kept the pace and depth he was at.

“Fuck you,” Yuta grunted, trying to hold onto the anger in the sea of pleasure. “What’d’you wann’ from me?”

“Tell me you’re gonna win. Tell me you’re going to fuck Henry up.” Mox looked sternly down at the other, their eyes staying locked. “All I want is you to win and keep winning.”

“Weird…way’o showin’ it,” Yuta muttered, trying to shake off the hand.

Something dark took over Mox’s face. It wasn’t anger, but Yuta had a feeling he was in trouble. The hand returned to the younger man’s neck, holding him still as Mox leaned in. Slow tantalizing rock of their hips kept the pleasure heightened. Blood-wet lips pressed against Yuta’s ear.

“You have no idea.” Mox’s husky voice echoed through his young boy’s ear. “Think I haven’t been where you are right now? Where do you think we learned it all from, kid? You’ll understand, soon. Just enjoy it, like you have been.”

“Don’ wan’ this.” Yuta tried again but his dick was still rock hard inside the other.

“Neither did I,” Mox admitted, his teeth nibbling on his young boy’s ear. “It was still hot as fuck. It didn’t matter what I wanted, it was about giving me what I needed. I had no choice in the matter because Lordship knew best.”

“Jon, please.” Yuta tried to shake his head.

“It’s okay. You can imagine it,” Mox teased, deciding to pick up the pace now. Powerful thighs working to bring him further up and back down. They moaned together.

“Fuck.” Yuta’s broken sob came from his chest. Somehow Mox knew that he was getting off to this. His brain conjured up the exact images he needed to imagine the scene Mox was telling. It made an intense guilt pool with the horniness.

“The first time was in the locker rooms. It was fucking insane. We fought, but of course I couldn’t win.” Mox kissed down Yuta’s neck. “Not when my head felt like yours.” Teeth scratched at Yuta’s pulse. “We’re different, Wheeler.”

“Different.” Yuta had closed his eyes long ago, violent pornographic scenes playing for him. There was something that needed to be reconciled deep within, some sort of split that Yuta needed to stitch together.

“Fuck me. You remind me so much of Claudio.” Mox panted, really working himself up now. “You just think you have to be such a nice guy, baby, but you don’t. It took so much to break that nice guy act down, but once you get underneath? There’s so much more. He just never knew it either.”

“Mox?” Yuta grunted, pushing against the hand. “Mox?”

“Hey, relax.” Mox let go of his young boy’s face, and pulled away so he couldn’t be attacked. “What?”

“I’m gonna win. I’m gonna fuck Henry up. Doesn’t matter-- forgot my boots or not. Fuckin’ win.” Yuta forced the words out as he looked up into the king’s face.

“God damn right,” Mox growled. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, Wheeler.”

Their foreheads came together, nuzzling at each other as if this were the ring. They shared each other's air and space. Despite being joined they weren’t close enough. Mox scrambled, grabbing and pressing himself fully against his young boy, blood and sweat allowing their skin to slide together.

Tears caught in the corners of Yuta’s eyes. There wasn’t anything wrong, he wasn’t hurting or upset. Were they were happy tears? Yuta had to admit they were. The emotion welling up inside him at Mox calling him perfect stitched the broken parts of Yuta back together. He felt so raw and new, like a freshly healed wound.

The rough way their bodies were moving together was countered by the soft kisses Mox laid across his young boy’s cheek. Their lips ended up together again, rough but normal aside from the blood. A shaky half moan, half sob wormed its way out of Yuta’s chest.

“Let it out. No one else’ll know,” Mox spoke, still lip to lip, muttering in barely audible words. “Want us to come together, baby.”

“Please, Mox, please.” Yuta begged for release as the tears started to slide down his face.

“Fuck. Good boy. Look at you.” Mox watched the tears slipping down Yuta’s face, he hadn’t stopped really working his hips but he was finally starting to ride his young boy properly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.”

The more Mox said the more of Yuta’s tears slipped out. More compliments, soft words following. The unshakable faith Mox had in his young boy, what he saw in his young boy, all the while riding Yuta to the breaking point.

“Ah, fuck. Come on. Be a good boy, and come with daddy, yeah?” Mox growled, his hand being shoved back into his jockstrap.

“Daddy,” Yuta hiccuped between his moans and crying.

“Yeah, baby, c’mon. You’re all pent up.” Mox was breathless as he sweet talked. “Ain’t no one been takin’ care of you, huh? And I’ve been playing with you far too long. Fill daddy up, Wheeler. Be a good boy.”

The words were going straight to Yuta’s cock. Sure there were plenty of times Mox begged to be bred, but this time he wasn’t begging. Practically ordering his young boy in the nicest way. Yuta felt his balls tighten as Mox purposely squeezed around him, making himself tight.

Yuta snapped at the tight feeling squeezing his cock, coming deep inside the tight passage. They shared more fluid as Yuta felt his seed flood Mox. Somehow Mox managed to shoot off at the same time causing senstational spasms through him to Yuta’s cock, massaging and milking him. They slumped together but Yuta could still feel his cock twitching and leaking.

Despite not wanting this Yuta was desperate for more, he even wished Claudio was there to take a turn. His cock was aching for more action. Mox was slowly rocking on his hips in Yuta’s lap.

“You’re a good boy, Wheeler,” Mox muttered. “But you’re only a good boy for us. Understand?”

“Yeah.” Yuta responded automatically as he floated through his post orgasm bliss. At this point he'd agree to practically anything.

“You belong with us.” Mox reiterated as he slowly kissed up Yuta's neck.

“You sure?” Yuta moaned softly at the teasing kissing.

“I'm sure.” Mox kissed the shell of his young boy's ear. “Been sure since those first forty seconds, baby.”

+++

Brrring. Brrrring.

A calamity of noise loudly rang out in the near empty hotel room. Cold food sat out since the morning, but the TV had turned itself off after a few hours. Everything was nearly pitch black.

Brrrrring. Briiiiing.

There was a heavy fog settled over Yuta’s mind, even trying to wake up in panic didn’t work. A clammy, cold sweat took over his entire body as he laid on the couch, slumped over from sitting up while he fell asleep. Everything moved like a washing machine so Yuta laid back down on the couch for a moment. The noise continued but Yuta was finding himself drifting back to sleep.

Brrriiing. Briiiiing. Briiiiing. Briiiing.

Finally it stopped so Yuta closed his eyes completely to let himself go back to sleep. There were thoughts swimming around that he couldn’t make heads or tails of at the moment. It was too much to try to decipher currently as words and images played out. And just as Yuta shoved those things out of his mind enough to sleep another noise started.

Knock. Knock.

That was at the door. It dawned on Yuta that the weird sound before had been the hotel phone and now there was knocking on his door. Slowly he started to get up, the rushing world around him blurred as he tried to get upright. A coffee cup was knocked over on the table but Yuta didn’t pay any mind to it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Comin’.” Yuta finally found his raspy voice. It sounded like he’d slept with his mouth open, scratching his throat.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Coming!” Yuta stumbled step by step to the door, using the wall to help him. The door was finally opened. “Hi?”

“Mr. Yuta.” A woman about Yuta’s age stood on the other side with a concerned smile. “Our front desk attempted to call 3 times for your wake up call,” she informed him as she took a look at him. “So I came up to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh. Fuck.” Yuta rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’m okay. My sleeping has been messed up a lot from all the traveling. Thank you for coming up.”

“It’s no problem, sir. Can I get you anything?” she asked as he gave the young man another look over.

“Um.” Yuta froze for a few seconds but then nodded. “Coffee?”

“Sure. I’ll have it sent right up, sir.” She smiled, gave a little bow, and took off.

The door clicked shut, the auto lock turning with a whirl. Alone, Yuta stood there for a moment with his forehead pressed against the cold metal door. Flashes of what he could only assume was another stress nightmare plagued his eyes. Slowly he turned around to slump back against the door.

Resting against the door Yuta looked down at his hands. There were no marks from fighting back. No rope burn or bruising on his wrists like he expected from being tied to the couch. Nothing. Not even irritation or muscle strain. The young man forced himself off the door too quickly, everything swam around his vision as he stumbled back towards the cold food on the coffee table.

Frantically Yuta started stacking the plates to put the room service cart in the hall. Secretly he was searching for some hidden clue that the dreams he was having were real. Nothing. Again there wasn’t anything abnormal about the coffee table. Attentions were turned towards the couch, but there wasn’t any evidence there either.

Vaguely Yuta could remember blood and come during his dream. Blankets of craziness started to suffocate him as he rushed into the ensuite bath. The bright lights bounced off the shiny mirror while Yuta’s eyes took too long to adjust. Most of his weight bared on the sink counter as he stared the reflection down.

Other than the horrible bags under Yuta’s eyes there weren't any other signs of distress or activities. It was hard to fish for pieces but Yuta tried remembering. No bite marks or bruises. Hell, Yuta didn’t even feel like he had some freaky sex.

“It was just a nightmare,” Yuta muttered to his reflection.

All those movie scenes where a character punched their mirror all made sense in that one moment. Everything about the reflection was something Yuta hated. The exhaustion in his dark eyes, the palness, the waning muscles. It all made a rock of self hate settle in the young man’s stomach. The reflection wasn’t who he truly was, but every day he was feeling more and more like the ghost before him.

“Fuck you,” Yuta growled at the man in the mirror. “You’re weak. You wouldn’t be able to beat Henry.” He narrowed his eyes, anger and pain starting a fire. “But I can.”

The lights were cut off sharply as Yuta left the room. Whatever fog was lifting as he came out of the bathroom to get dressed. Everything was coming into sharp focus, something inside him shifted into the right place. There was a sense of confidence that was back.

All Yuta needed was his bags and he went to leave. Along the way he passed the hotel employee bringing up the pot of coffee, but Yuta didn’t have time to lament the lost coffee. He pulled the hood over his head as he got out to his car to leave for the arena.

+++

Once at the arena Yuta was hit by a wave of longing for his team. Hesitantly he pulled his phone out to check the messages he knew Bryan hadn’t sent. There was nothing new. As he opened up the message field to type something out a text came in at the top. Yuta blinked a few times as his blood ran cold.

It took a moment to build up the courage. As the screen with Bryan remained unchanged, a text from Claudio awaited. Closing his eyes Yuta took a deep breath before pulling up the new message.

“You’re going to win tonight. Remember Anthony Henry isn’t someone to be taken lightly, but you are the better competitor. You are stronger, more violent, and technically sound. Remember your training. Good luck, Wheeler. Not that you need it.”

This was the message that Yuta carved from Bryan. The advice and support that could be easily given. All of the earlier clarity was receding, leaving a void of emotion as everything settled in. There was no reason for Yuta to be getting supportive texts from Claudio but not Bryan. This couldn't just be about Bryan being hurt right now, even though he’d gone running and to doctor’s appointments.

With a scowl Yuta returned to his message with his mentor. The letters appeared under his thumbs as he let his emotions drive his actions. Hitting send without even considering otherwise. There was something deeply wrong and it was breaking inside Yuta.

“I’m going to fucking win tonight.”

The car door slammed. Anger and confusion swirling around in Yuta’s head as he made his way inside. Everything was feeling numb and far away. Just before the corner that led to the locker rooms Yuta felt his phone go off, he stopped to open the message. A small smile spread when he saw it was from Bryan.

“I’d hope so, Wheeler. It’s Anthony Henry.”

That was all. Yuta closed his eyes, counted to ten and put his phone away. Being immediately accosted by the media team made Yuta shut down. He could hear words but they didn’t make much sense. Expect the word Bryan. Somehow he found himself talking, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying either. The words weren’t anything.

The jab Bryan made about forgetting his boots played over and over in his head for some reason. Even as he spoke quietly about Bryan’s condition. As the zipper came apart Yuta instantly realized he somehow did forget his boots. They weren’t tucked away in the under pocket of the gear bag meant for them.

Panic set in as Yuta walked away from the conversation. The one thing. The stupid one thing that he just couldn’t forget. Once in the empty locker room still labeled BCC Yuta paced around as he tried to remember if he just left them in the hotel or all the way at Bryan’s place. There was a memory Yuta had of packing the boots but not taking anything out at the hotel so nothing was forgotten. It wasn’t like Yuta’s memory was super reliable.

“Fuck, fuck.” Yuta shook his head. Anything else could have been forgotten but not this. “Maybe uh…the tailors?”

Without much thought Yuta went along to find the costume, wardrobe, and tailor people. It wasn’t a fruitful journey. Wrestlers were too particular so they didn’t keep any kind of boots on hand or shoes for wrestling in general. Too many varieties, they said as Yuta walked off in a semiconscious state.

The lonely, cold locker room was depressing. A lot of ideas were running through the young boy’s head, like did he have to wrestle shoeless? Rage was washing up on the shores of Yuta’s emotions until he noticed something sitting by his gear,

“What the actual fuck?!” Yuta screamed as he saw a pair of his boots tossed near his bag. “I don’t fucking--”

Deep heavy breaths started to help there be some level of calm. Enough to go look at the pair. They were just some random pair of his boots, but not the ones he thought he packed. Leaning down Yuta realized there was a piece of paper tucked inside the right boot.

Heard you were missing boots. You left these in my truck last time we were in Ohio together. You’re gonna fucking kill Henry tonight. --MOX

Upon closer inspection Yuta could remember leaving these. They weren’t his favorite, for some reason the instep was too narrow on the right foot. Last time these boots were on his feet was in Ohio, he remembered tossing them in annoyance in the back and refusing to get them as a joke. If Mox was in the building, he would have driven here in that truck and saw Yuta’s interview moment. It made sense, it made perfect senses.

But Yuta was pretty sure he packed his fucking boots.

[0dahv11ng]

and what if i told yall im trying to write a prohibition era the elite/bcc fic. then what.

[sheinthatfandom]

Forged By Love Bound By Soul

In a world where the first words your soulmate hears you speak appears on their arm, Wheeler Yuta waited all his life to meet his soulmate. He dreamed about what would be the first words he said to them, what their first words would be to him. No one could have ever foreseen that Yuta would meet his soulmate at the end of their life. A broken bond could usually lead to madness and Yuta has no time to worry about that risk when he has a funeral to plan and a body to carry across the world. He had assumed he would be doing it all alone but maybe William is still protecting Yuta from the other side because three of his soulmates exes just showed up.

Relationship: Wheeler Yuta/William Regal, past william regal/Jon moxley/Bryan Danielson, past William Regal/Claudio Castagnoli, Wheeler Yuta/Claudio Castagnoli/Jon Moxley/Bryan Danielson

Words count: 9,657

Not beta read

[seriousbrat]

Bring On the Night, chapter 4 Read on Ao3

THE DARKEST DAYS, a multi-part, canon-compliant series spanning from 1975 to 1981, covering the events of the First Wizarding War. Follows Lily, Severus, and the Marauders through their final years at Hogwarts to the end of the war, as friendships are put to the test and the Wizarding World crumbles around them... READ FROM THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER 4: The Dark Mark --------------------------------------------

“Come on,” Moody growls, and they pile into the lift. Instead of pressing the button Moody jabs his wand at the console— immediately the lift shoots upwards at incredible speed, and they burst from the building. Beyond the wide glass windows of the lift the metal struts of the tower rush past in a red blur, through which they can see the sprawl of the city, and the endless grey expanse of sea and sand peppered with little black dots that grow smaller, smaller as they rise…

Lily lets out another soft noise of fear and James grips her tightly. He’s used to heights, but standing in this flimsy box as they rocket into the air makes him feel much less in control than he normally does on a broomstick.

Finally the lift slams to a halt and opens onto a closed observation deck, a steel structure with wide glass panes. Empty.

“Fabian!” shouts Lily.

James sees the tail of Fabian’s cloak disappearing up a spiral staircase that leads to the upper deck— they follow him, their feet clanging on the steps.  Already the wind is unbelievable, buffeting their faces with stinging force.

“Protego!” James shouts, just in time as a curse sails towards them through the metal beams on the opposite side of the viewing platform. They find Fabian crouching behind a wide central pillar— the entire platform is shuddering and creaking dangerously in the relentless wind, and the silvery paint coating the steel beams is flaking off to reveal the original red beneath, while the Dark Mark bathes it all in ominous, sickly green light.

[wammbam]

Letting it Happen

yuta lets a lot of things happen. mostly because he doesn't know what else to do, doesn't want to fight against a lot of it, and craves a whole lot more.

he lets mox clean the blood off his face and neck and chest. lets him hold a hand up to his forehead so the water wouldn't pound on the cut there and lets him cup water over his face and scrub at the sweat and grime over his chest. lets mox hold him up as the water beats against his back and lets hands tangle in the back of his hair and feels small trails of thin blood down his face and over his mouth. feels mox's tongue against his chin and cheek and breathes in the dark, full scent of mox.

~

finally finished this fic, have it my lovelies :)

read more here

[catch-needed-hobbies]

Chapters: 12/12 Fandom: All Elite Wrestling Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Hook & Blackpool Combat Club, Orange Cassidy & Hook, Hook & The Best Friends, Donovan Danhausen & Hook, Hook & Taz | Tazz, Hook/Wheeler Yuta Characters: Hook (Professional Wrestling), Wheeler Yuta, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley, Daniel Bryan | Bryan Danielson, Claudio Castagnoli | Cesaro, Orange Cassidy, Donovan Danhausen, Chuck Taylor, Trent Barreta, Taz | Tazz (Professional Wrestling) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Somewhat Kayfabe Compliant, in that this is a made up storyline within kayfabe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Worlds End PPV, Unconventional Recruitment Tactics, The BCC has no chill, Hook is tired, Not Beta Read, The Author Regrets Nothing, Author had a vague idea and a dream, Title from a Radiohead Song, wow that’s not a tag?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing, Out of Character, possibly I can’t tell, The Ghost of Jack Perry is Haunting the Narrative, The BCC Group Chat, the real update schedule was the friends we made along the way, Ruining Hook’s Winning Streak for the Drama, I’m putting that man through the wringer and I’m not sorry, Bad Puns, Teaching Someone your Finisher as a Love Language Summary:

In the wake of his Zero-Hour match against Yuta at Worlds End, Hook wants nothing more than to move onto bigger things. Unfortunately, the Blackpool Combat Club has decided they’re not done with him.

[valkyrie-night-103]

WIP GAME (Take II)

Pick a WIP from my list, and send a word along with it. If I have the word in that WIP, I’ll post the first instance I can find of that word. If the same word and WIP are resubmitted, I’ll try to find another example, so don’t worry about repeats.

If I don’t have the word I’ll try to find something close to it! This didn’t work so well last time because I ended up not being able to find a word. If I can’t find anything close enough, I’ll try to work it in!

Anons are welcome! Assign yourself an emoji or nickname, and I’ll tag the ask with that emoji or nickname so that any answers are easy to find without the need to scroll.

Tagging a couple mutuals!

@old-no7 @daphne-minor @booboo-eyedbambi

Current WIPs -

StrickPage OneShots with canon-typical insane behaviour, and an only slightly less canon-typical E Rating. Oh boy I’ve written a lot for this one. I’m aiming for about 5 oneshots totalling over 10k words, but who knows what’ll happen

Golden Triad (Hangman/Kenny/Kota) Film-Noir inspired AU, featuring Hangman as a grizzled Private Investigator/investigative journalist, and Kenny and Kota the mysterious and handsome inside sources that end up saving his life.

Wheeler Yuta finding his place in the BCC, featuring Mox being totally unable to be normal about a trio faction, Bryan being mean and Yuta liking it a little too much. Regal is Regal, as per the usual.

Canon Divergent AU in which Kota comes to AEW with Kenny, and Hangman may just be a teeny bit in love with them both. Set during the early days of AEW, a few months before the pandemic era really began.

[nagdabbit]

remember when you said you had a BCC BDSM au in your WIPS? And now you're concentrating on the bookshop au? Any, you know, chance you can slide a lil of that this way?

you were both very patient thank you for not actually being pushy, here have this thing that may never get expanded upon <3

rating: m

warnings: impact play/spanking, wrestling, obedience

pairing: bryan/yuta, mentions of: bryan/mox, yuta/mox, bryan/regal

words: 7.3k

in the now mostly scrapped bcc bdsm club au that exists in my sea of wips, the full bryan/yuta scene from this ask game snippet with way more plot and feelings than i had originally intended when i started cleaning it up

.

Bryan remembered the first night Wheeler had set foot in the club. 

He should've been the belle of the ball, looking as eager and nervous as he did. Pretty, dark eyes and enough dark hair to grab a good handful of. He'd kept to the outskirts, out of the way, like he was torn between seeking attention and blending into the wall as he watched everything happening around him. He hadn't approached or been approached, hardly even been noticed, before he'd caught Mox's attention. 

He hadn't expected to get a chance to play with Mox's pretty, new plaything any time soon. Mox was absolutely taken with him. He'd caught the kid's eye, gave him an easy little smirk, and nodded toward a booth tucked away into a private little corner. He'd had the kid in his lap, a tongue down his throat, and a fist full of his hair before the hour was even out. Bryan would be lying if he said he wasn't a little jealous, though he didn't know if he knew who he was jealous of—not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

He didn't think Mox would let Wheeler out of his sight, not for anyone or anything. But then the kid had crashed through the club door like he was looking to hold the place up, all twitchy and wild eyed. He'd damn near collided with Bryan, looking harried, just on the edge of losing his cool. There had been a twitch to his lip, like he wanted to pull back into a snarl and a snap and a growl, like he wanted to bare his teeth and rip and rend.

He hadn't known Mox to ever be shy about hurting someone when they asked for it. He was good at it. Hell, when Bryan needed his ass caned to ribbons, he went to Mox. So why would Mox trust anyone else with his Wheeler?

But that's what the kid had said, looking desperately into Bryan's eyes. Mox said you would. 

Who would he be to let either of them down?

"Alright. What do you need from me?" he asked, leaning back against the door, thinking over plans as he watched Wheeler pace the small room. There was a square of a napkin burning a hole in his pocket, from those few moments he'd left Wheeler to himself to go sort out a room for them to use. He'd returned to find a neat, bulleted list waiting for him. Impact play. Bruising. Wrestling. "You're angry, you want to fight, you want to hurt. But do you want to be good?" He watched the shift of Wheeler's jaw, the tense line of his shoulders, the restless flex of his hands as he sifted through his thoughts. "Do I need to make you be good?"

He shivered a little, then nodded. "Yeah, a little bit."

Bryan lifted an eyebrow. "A little bit."

Wheeler ducked his head a little, relaxing for just a moment as he laughed to himself. "Mox said you could be a real shithead when you want to be." 

"And that's what you want?" There were other things he wanted to ask, other questions tugging at his mind. What does Mox do to you? What could possibly be so different that you need this? What could you possibly need me for? Instead, he lifted his eyebrows and asked, "You want me to be mean?"

"I think what he really meant was that you could be annoying," he chuckled. He met Bryan's eyes again, not retreating from the questions. "But, yeah. I really, really do."

He didn't know what to do with that, either. Mox could be mean, meaner than Bryan, even—and Bryan sure liked it when he was. He didn't know what he could do, that Mox wouldn't. Except, apparently, be annoying. "If I wanted you to stay still, stay exactly where I put you, for just five minutes, would you?"

"Eventually." Wheeler's expression turned a little toward challenging. A little more wicked. He met Bryan's gaze head on. "Depends on how much of a prick you are about it."

He smirked, "I think I'm gonna enjoy this."

The kid's cheeks went warm and red, but he didn't break away from Bryan's eyes.

"Stoplights alright for tonight?"

"That's perfect. I don't really want to have sex tonight, if that's okay. I, uh, would prefer it if you didn't call me names, not yet." His expression went a little more thoughtful, gaze shifting off to the side, somewhere, as he sorted through his words. "I mean, call me a good boy if I am, but not much more than that. Not tonight."

"Alright, and you don't have to call me sir. I expect you to show me respect, but we don't know each other that well, yet," he said, shifting to catch Wheeler's eyes again. "I expect you to let me know if you need me to slow down, stoplights exist for a reason. You wanna fight and wrestle, that's good. But we're not trying to injure each other, right? Accidents happen, but something feels wrong, you tell me."

He nodded, all his attention once again on Bryan. He couldn't possibly not know, not understand the very basics of risks, but he didn't look bored. Didn't roll his eyes or huff out a petulant I know. He paid attention to every word that Bryan said. "You can leave marks on me, though. I like them. That's—I meant it, when I said I wanted bruises. I want to feel it."

"Where?" He'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined leaving marks over every inch of Wheeler that he could reach. He wondered if Mox had left any marks, any smudges of handprints or fading bruises for him to cover up with something darker. 

"Not my face, no blood. Beyond that, I'll leave it up to you," he answered, easily. Not dismissive, just comfortable. "I think the words I used with Mox, earlier, was 'beat my ass black and blue.'"

"That'll come later—if you can be good. I'm not intending to mark you up while I'm wrestling you down," Bryan murmured, reaching out to gently tap Wheeler's nose. "Don't be greedy."

He chuckled, relaxing a little. 

Wheeler was such a sweet thing. Good natured, with a protective streak a mile wide. Mox had said there was a fire in him, but Bryan wondered if it was more sunshine than anything else. A patch of sun on a summer day, the warmth of a bonfire. He had a great big smile, one that bunched up his cheeks real tight. Cute as hell, Bryan could see why Jon liked him so much. Kind of addictive, being on the receiving end of a smile as sweet as that.

Bryan shook himself from his musings, and nodded toward the corner of their room. "There's a toy chest, just there. Go pick out what toys you want me to use, and then jeans and shirt off."

As Wheeler picked his way through the toys on offer, Bryan turned away to make sure everything else was set. He was certain it would be, it was part of his job, after all, but he liked to double check all the same. He hated to think what Mox or Regal would do if he didn't.

He turned the lights low enough to not be harsh, made sure the temperature was warm enough that neither of them would shiver. The first aid kit was stocked, though he had no plans of needing it. Each room in the club had a mini fridge tucked into the corner, filled with water and treats, and he poked through the offerings to make certain any of Wheeler's tastes would be met. There were freshly clean, soft blankets in the cupboard, extra cushions and pillows for afterward. He pulled the fluffiest cushion free, and tossed it onto the narrow, velvet couch—right next to a pile of neatly folded clothes and an assortment of toys.

A folded strap, a heavy wooden paddle, a braided thumper. All for Bryan to play with. He glanced back up at Wheeler, eyebrows raised. "You sure?"

"Yes, please." He nodded eagerly, a little more sure of himself, settling into place. He'd expected Wheeler to be shy, but he looked comfortable standing before Bryan in just his briefs. "If you wanted to just bend me over and beat me 'til I cried, that'd be nice, too."

He tilted his head and studied Wheeler for a moment, a few pieces  settling into place. "I think if that's all you needed, Mox wouldn't have sent you all the way here."

Wheeler huffed out a little laugh, "Maybe, but you know him. He doesn't like doing what you expect him to."

And wasn't that the truth? It was hard to pin him down—literally and figuratively. "Anything I need to watch out for or stay away from?" He asked, thinking of all the places he wanted to leave marks. Also those miles of smooth skin he could batter away at. "Anywhere you don't like to be touched? Old injuries to work around?"

"Not that I've found. I'm a little ticklish, which I'm not in the mood for, so no light touches. Slapping, hitting, pinching, that's all good though." His expression shifted toward teasing. "Harder than just a smack would be preferable, but I suppose that's up to you, isn't it?"

"And you're good, leaving that in my hands?" He had to duck a little to catch Wheeler's eye again. "We don't know each other, I understand if you don't trust me with that yet."

He nodded, no hesitation in the movement. "Mox trusts you," he said, like that was all the assurance he needed.

And that was certainly something. He knew, of course he did—but he'd never had to hear it out loud before. What a dangerous thing, trusting someone.

"You're going to stand there for five minutes," he murmured, taking a seat on the soft couch tucked against one of the walls. "Feet shoulder width apart, back straight, head up, eyes forward, hands at your sides. You will not move. You will not speak unless I ask you to, or if you need to. And when those five minutes are up, I'll bruise you up, just the way you want."

Wheeler clenched his jaw to keep from speaking, but settled into position without even the slightest hesitation.

"Every time you move, every time I have to reprimand you, the timer restarts. Do you understand?"

He didn't nod, didn't even shift his gaze toward Bryan. "Yes."

"Good. Timer starts now."

He made it three minutes before his hand twitched. Not much, just a slight movement. Easily missable, but Bryan was watching for it. 

"That's five minutes on the clock, Wheeler." 

Three minutes, another twist of his hand. Four minutes and a shift of his stance. Two minutes and a roll of his shoulders. Another three minutes, and another twitch of his hand. Like he wanted to clench his hand into a fist, only to stop himself just in time.

"Ah, I saw that. Five minutes back on the clock," he said, smiling as Wheeler's lip twitched like he wanted to snarl. "Why don't you lace your hands behind your back? Might take away a little temptation."

His jaw ticked, but he didn't say a word, just dutifully moved his arms back. Didn't shift his posture or shuffle his feet, ever the good boy he wanted to be.

It was another three minutes, and Wheeler shifted his shoulders a little. A slight stretch, trying to ease some of the stiffness out.

"Five minutes. Fold your arms together, wrist to elbow, grasp your forearms," he instructed, pleased to see Wheeler follow the order, stiffly adjusting his posture. He wasn't happy about it, visibly, but he did so wordlessly. Bryan couldn't wait to watch him rip free.

He stood when Wheeler passed the two minute mark, circling his form. Credit to him, he didn't move immediately. Didn't even grind his teeth in annoyance, not even when all that built up rage was so clearly simmering just below the surface. He stared forward, breaths even and slow.

He leaned in close enough he could watch the prickle of goosebumps across Wheeler's shoulders. It was mesmerizing, just a little. Didn't have to even touch him. When Wheeler shifted his arms again, like he was trying to suppress a shiver, Bryan reached out to adjust his stance. "Another five," he sighed, hand just brushing Wheeler's arm before the kid moved.

He spun whip-quick, hand striking out to grip Bryan's wrist. He looked mean, almost dangerous, as he leaned in close to Bryan's face. He had an inch or two on Bryan, and he used it.

But he wanted to be good for Bryan, too. He'd said so, proven it over and over. He wouldn't give up so soon. "You want to let go of me," he said, lowly. He pressed forward, face right up against Wheeler's. "Now."

His lip lifted in another snarl, grip tightening for just a moment, before he threw Bryan's wrist away. He wordlessly turned his back on Bryan, shoulders tense. Drawn tight, ready to snap.

Bryan forcibly adjusted Wheeler's posture, prodding him back exactly into place, crossing his arms at the wrists against the small of his back. He kicked lightly at an ankle, nudging Wheeler's stance a few inches wider. "You keep this up, we'll be here all night."

Wheeler sucked in a breath, like he was about to speak, but he bit it down with everything else. One more bit of tension ready to burst out of him, one more pound of weight threatening to topple him. 

Wheeler made it just two minutes before he moved again. He watched the kid shift his feet, his stance widening just slightly, and gave another disappointed tsk. "Come on, Wheeler. You're better than this."

He gave a sharp slap to the back of Wheeler's thigh, just enough to sting—not nearly enough to destabilize him, but he buckled like it was, dropping down to a knee. The young man clenched his fists, but managed to hold them still as he finished lowering himself to his knees. He was getting restless, about to burst, and he still tried and tried and tried to be good. 

"I think you're getting bored, getting lost in that pretty head of yours. You're losing focus, forgetting what you need to do. We got to keep your attention here, where it should be," he murmured, crouching next to Wheeler, close enough to be visible just in his periphery. "Why don't we make this a little more interesting, hm?"

He didn't move when Bryan delivered a sharp smack to his chest. Oh, he wanted to. A muscle in his jaw ticked, his eyes tightened, he drew in a sharp breath through his nose—but he didn't move. Didn't so much as snarl. A slap between his shoulder blades didn't move him, nor the one to the soft flesh of his inner thigh. He made a sound, a high, quiet whine in the back of his throat, but he didn't move.

But he gave a full body jerk when Bryan tweaked his nipple, a bitten off cry dying in his throat as it was swallowed up in a growl of frustration.

Bryan tsked, "That's five."

Wheeler gave him a little snarl, but settled back into stillness. His posture got stiffer by the second, coiled and ready. 

With each sharp smack and sharper reprimand, Wheeler grew tighter and tighter, a bowstring drawn back too far. Until he was practically vibrating in place, all that fight just ready to burst out of him.

In the end, it wasn't a strike that did it. Bryan had simply brushed a hand over his head, through his soft hair. Just to see what would happen, just to see if the gentleness would be enough to break him.

He was quick, so much faster than Bryan expected. He pivoted beneath Bryan's hand, pulled one of Bryan's ankles out from under him, shoved a forearm forcefully into his hip. He landed on the padded floor with a heavy thud, and he had barely any time to catch his breath before Wheeler was on him, hands trying to pin Bryan down 

When Wheeler had said he wanted to wrestle, Bryan had expected a messy scramble of flailing limbs; no finesse, just frustration and determination. A school yard tussle, a few seconds worth of struggle before it was over.

He didn't expect Wheeler to immediately wrench him up into a guillotine. He didn't expect to have to fight.

Bryan twisted his body away to Wheeler's left, before those long, clever legs could cinch in around his waist, and they were off. 

It was work trying to counter everything Wheeler threw at him, leaving him sweaty and panting as the young man wriggled and struggled in his grip. He should've shucked his jeans at the start, tugged his shirt off, should've let himself indulge just a little and feel those miles of smooth skin a little bit better. He was wily, and he was fun, weaseling his way out of Bryan's grip at every turn. 

And through all of it, he was careful. His movements were precise and neat, never striking hard enough to do damage. He didn't twist Bryan's limbs to the point of pain, not once. When he clawed at the arm Bryan had around his throat, he pulled with the blunts of his fingers, never digging his nails into the skin there. He wasn't fighting to win, not exactly. Just as Bryan wanted him to earn that beating he'd come in begging for, he wanted Bryan to earn every single sliver of his submission.

Bryan got his forearm locked securely up under Wheeler's chin, legs cinched around him before he could even think of rolling up and out of the hold again. Bryan leaned back, just a little, stretching the man in his hold until he whined so prettily. 

"Come on, Wheeler. You know how to end this," he murmured, trying to sound unaffected, to not let him hear the strain in his voice. It was hard to do after a fight as good as that, sweat beading across his brow and sticking to his shirt. "You know how to get what you want."

He growled and thrashed, hips bucking as he tried to get his legs free, but Bryan held firm. His movements were growing sluggish, struggles turning to stutters as he finally began to wear himself out. He gave one last desperate whine, and went limp, all that bright red fury draining out of him in an instant. He sank into the hold for a moment, let Bryan pull his head back even further, before there was finally a gentle tap tap tap against Bryan's forearm, as Wheeler turned into nothing but a panting, trembling puddle in his hold.

"There you are, that's better," Bryan murmured, nuzzling against the shell of Wheeler's ear. He dropped one hold in favor of another, maneuvering them both up until he could settle the young man into his lap, face pressed into Bryan's throat. "Knew you were in there somewhere."

Wheeler hummed an affirmative little noise, warm and pliant in Bryan's grip. 

This was the Wheeler that Bryan had expected from the start. Soft skin and an easy smile, as he molded himself to Bryan's chest. He'd been right, and he'd have been lying if he said he didn't like having to work for it. 

He pulled the cushion down onto the floor, and carefully nudged Wheeler into place, settling him back onto his knees. He was relaxed, though—finally. Cheeks bright with a healthy flush, shoulders low. Wrestled down loose and easy, just the way Bryan wanted.

"Five minutes."

He gave a violent, full body flinch. His expression shuttered and shattered into something broken, "But—"

"Hey, where are you right now?" he asked, keeping his tone gentle. 

He whimpered, a tiny sound that made Bryan want to bundle him up safe and sound, almost as much as he wanted to drag more pathetic little noises out of him. But that would come later. He was fuzzy and floating, and looked close to crying—and for all the wrong reasons.

Bryan took pity on him, reaching out to gently smooth his thumb over the confused crease between his brows. "You're where I put you, Wheeler. You're right where I want you," he murmured. "And I know you can be good for me, I know you can stay, can't you? Just five minutes, Wheeler, just like I asked. I know you can do it," he promised, and watched that broken expression light up in pride and determination. What a fucking beautiful sight. "Show me."

He took a couple deep breaths, and then settled into position. He kept his back straight, chin raised, eyes forward, just the way Bryan had first instructed. He pressed his palms flat to his thighs, practiced and easy. 

This time, though, he was lax. He wasn't coiled with fight, wasn't stiff with tension, his shoulders weren't threatening to raise toward his ears. All that rage had dissipated into quiet calm. It was quite something, how sweet he could be once all that tension had drained from his shoulders, once his just let go.

He was lovely. He spared a thought, just a quick moment, to wonder if he was like this for Mox. 

Bryan could've ended it early. Could've cut the time at Wheeler's usual three minutes, and he wouldn't have known the difference. But Wheeler could do it, just as he'd told Bryan at the start. And he would do it, and he wanted to.

As the clock ticked over the final seconds, Bryan slipped off the couch and sat himself on the floor, legs parted around Wheeler's still kneeling form. "There you are," he murmured, and clasped Wheeler's hands to pull him forward. "I knew you could do it, my good boy."

He all but collapsed into Bryan's arms, all graceless dead weight and pretty, purring sighs. "Told you I could," he mumbled into Bryan's cheat, the words sounding heavy and slow.

"Never doubted you, not for a second," he promised, scuffing a kiss across Wheeler's forehead as he pulled back. "Okay, you have a choice," he murmured, gently cupping Wheeler's scruffy cheeks. "I'm going to pay special attention to one area, okay? Across your shoulders with the thumper, or your ass with the paddle?"

He blinked slowly at Bryan, fuzzy and unseeing as he rifled through all the information. But Bryan didn't repeat himself, and Wheeler didn't ask him to. "I still get both?"

"Of course you do. You did so well for me, this is your reward," he promised, gently brushing back some of the hair from Wheeler's forehead. "Where do you want me to hurt you the most?"

"My ass, please." 

"Perfect, thank you Wheeler. Can you get undressed on your own?"

He gave an easy little nod, looking up at Bryan with another of those bright, easy smiles. "Yessir. Can I have one of the fuzzy blankets after?"

"Of course you can."

"And chocolate?" He gave Bryan's the most imploring look he could, eyes wide and liquid. "Please?"

"You're too cute for your own good, you know that?" He gently chucked Wheeler's chin as he the kid laughed, "You can have whatever you want, promise. Get undressed and kneel on your cushion again."

He grinned, "Yes, sir." He might've given a cheeky salute if he hadn't suddenly become a mess of uncoordinated limbs in his rush to finish getting nude.

Bryan left him for a moment to grab the two fuzziest blankets on offer, and made sure there were a few candy bars to choose from. He'd asked so sweetly, after all, and he had to take good care of Mox's boy. 

When he glanced back, Wheeler was waiting for him with a fuzzy, eager smile. He looked so pretty there, in the low light. Dark eyes glittery and shiny, the few smudges of bruises from their tussle standing out vividly on his bare skin. His cock was hanging heavy between his thighs, and Bryan hoped there'd be a repeat in their future, just to get to play with each part of Wheeler that he'd missed.

"I'm going to start on your shoulders," he began, crouching in front of the kid. "You had all that practice staying still, and I need you to keep it up so I don't accidentally miss where I'm aiming. Will you be able to stay upright for a little while?"

Wheeler took a dutiful moment to think about it, to take stock of himself. "Right now, I can. Yellow or tap out if I feel like I can't?"

"That's perfect, I'll be watching. And when you're loose enough, we'll lay you down and start with the paddle. Maybe the belt, if you're real good," he murmured, standing and reaching for the thumper. He circled the kneeling man, dragging the rubber baton across Wheeler's shoulders. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, yeah." Wheeler gave a jerky nod, breath quickening just a little, "Please."

He gave him a few seconds, before he pulled back and swung. 

The hit landed with a loud, thudding impact, punching a breath and a curse out of Wheeler. Something low and warm, from deep in his gut  He swayed a little, an almost imperceptible movement, and then settled again. A shivering little shudder ran through him, a little aftershock of pleasure. 

The second strike was harder, the third harder still, and each one punched another, more desperate noise out of Wheeler. He really made such pretty sounds.

The fifth hit pulled a long, low groan out of him, something that rumbled around his chest like a purr. The seventh made him dig his short nails into his thighs with the effort to keep himself still. Keep from swaying, maybe to keep his back from arching, keep his hands from reaching for his filling erection. Nine and ten wrung high, broken whines out of him, left him whimpering. 

Twelve was the strike that knocked him over, sending him lurching forward with a gasp, hands skidding across the floor as he tried to hold himself upright. "Fuck, fuck fuck," he hissed, and lowered himself to his forearms, head hanging low. His shoulders were a pretty mess of red.

Bryan crouched next to him, hand brushing over the warm, abused skin. God, he would bruise so prettily. "Too much?"

He cursed low and long, like it was being dragged out of him, "No, no, fuck, that's good, that was perfect."

He smiled to himself, hand trailing down Wheeler's back to gently knead at the globes of his ass. There wasn't much meat on him, built more for speed than power, but he'd already proven there was more to him than whatever Bryan had imagined at the start. "Are you going to be able to keep your ass up for me? Or should I lay you out over the bench, let you float for a little while?"

He didn't know if it had been a lesson learned from Mox, or if he'd learned it long before, when Bryan asked him to take stock of himself, he did. He carefully pushed himself back upright, rolling his shoulders and giving his back a slow, arching stretch. He was all lithe, pretty lines. But not delicate, not really, not in the way Bryan had thought. 

"I wanna be over your lap, I think," Wheeler muttered with a satisfied sigh, and let himself fall back into Bryan's arms, like he knew they'd be there to catch him. He looked up, a fuzzy sort of smile on his face, and Bryan could imagine deep dimples beneath the scruff of his beard. He liked a man with dimples. "That okay?"

"I said you could have whatever you wanted." He slipped a forearm up under his chin, but didn't press down, even when Wheeler gasped and pressed forward into the touch. "Still want me to bend you over and—what was it you said? Beat you until you what?"

He made a little keening sound, eyelids fluttering. "Until I cry, sir, please."

"You still want that?"

He nodded, eagerly. "Yes, yessir."

"That's my good boy," Bryan praised, quitely, and dragged a hand through Wheeler's hair. He released the kid for the few seconds it took to push himself back up onto the couch, gave him a few seconds to breathe—or whine in dismay, as it happened, the little brat. Bryan rolled his eyes and reached down to snag an arm around his waist and gut wrench Wheeler up into his lap.

He landed with an oof, a gangle of limbs and a hard cock against Bryan's thighs. He squirmed, trying his damnedest to wriggle into position, making eager, desperate sounds. 

It was almost harder to manhandle Wheeler around when he was nothing but shivering dead weight. Might've even been faster just to direct him into place, but he much preferred the breathy sounds that Wheeler made while Bryan shoved him this way and that. Quite gasps and whines, begging for something.

He got Wheeler up onto his knees, bracketed between Bryan's legs. He maneuvered one thigh up over Wheeler's calves to hold him in place, keep him from thrashing and squirming too badly. He kept his over thigh pressed up against the top of Wheeler's, a little support to keep his hips held aloft, caging him in just a little bit further.

Wheeler shivered and melted against the cushions, back arched in a long, curving slope. His arms were stretched out over his head, hands kneading at the cushions like a cat. He may as well have been purring, the very picture of comfort. He'd have looked more at home in a sunbeam, than bent down over Bryan's lap, ready and waiting to have his ass bruised. 

Bryan dragged the edge of the paddle up one of Wheeler's thighs, leaving another little shiver in its wake. "Will you be able to tell me the moment it's too much?"

"Yellow, red, or tap out," he recited, without even needing to be prompted, like the good boy he was. Then he wiggled his hips impatiently, "Please, I'm ready."

Usually, Bryan didn't like to use paddles in such close quarters. The angle wasn't what he preferred, and he didn't quite have the room to get a really good backswing, to bring it down with as much force as he wanted. Paddles always seemed too unwieldy for so little space, but the one Wheeler had chosen was fairly small, especially for how heavy it was in Bryan's hand.

He dragged the smooth edge slowly up the back of Wheeler's thigh, just to watch him shiver, and then pulled his arm back as he waited for the right moment.

Just like the first go around, Wheeler really tried to stay still and be patient, be good. He knew what was coming, and he sincerely tried to wait for it. But he was antsy, and he wanted, and he'd said he wanted Bryan to be mean—or maybe just annoying.

He made it about thirty seconds before he began to shift, hips giving a little wiggle. Another twenty before the legs pinned beneath Bryan's shifted and flexed.

Fifteen seconds, and his fingertips began to tap impatiently on the soft, velvet cushions, arms still stretched out over his head.

Ten seconds and he sighed, unhappily.

Ten seconds, another sigh, and another little wiggle.

Another ten seconds and Wheeler pulled his arms back, like he meant to push himself upright, and made a frustrated, impatient little noise—and then Bryan swung the paddle down. As Wheeler was pushing himself up to his hands, no doubt to turn his head and give Bryan an annoyed and pleading look, the paddle landed with a crack against the meat of his ass.

His shout was more startled than pained, but he dropped his chest back down into the cushions all the same. He turned his head enough to give Bryan a narrowed-eyed look. "Harder."

"If you keep being demanding, I'm less likely to give you what you want." He swatted the paddle against his left cheek a couple times, not even hard enough to leave a flush of pink, let alone rattle Wheeler's gritted teeth. "Come on, where's my good boy, huh? Got a little treat, and suddenly you forgot all your manners?"

Wheeler grumbled, pointedly wiggling his hips again. "Harder, please."

Bryan smiled. "That's much better."

The crack of the next hit bounced off the walls of their little room, just a second before Wheeler's curse did.

"That what you were after?" he asked, dragging the paddle slowly over the welt he'd just left. He settled a hand on Wheeler's back, dragging up and down his spine, so he could feel the muscles ripple with each impact.

"Yes yes yes, thank you, sir." 

He brought the paddle down with another crack, and then another, giving just enough time for Wheeler to catch his breath between strikes. Just enough to begin to catch his bearings before Bryan knocked another pretty sound loose from him. 

Wheeler didn't hide his face the way Bryan expected, didn't even try to bite back or muffle his shouts. He was just as loud as each smack Bryan layered over his backside, his curses and pleas warbling and cracking with each hit. Bryan had expected him to be shy, unsure, the way he had been that first night he'd stepped into the club. 

Usually, Bryan hated being proven wrong. But tracing the long slope of Wheeler's spine, he found he actually quite liked the feeling. 

He jerked beneath Bryan's hand, rocking forward with the force of another strike. His toes curled and his back arched and he said, "Please, Bryan."

And who would Bryan be if he didn't give him everything he wanted?

He hissed and shuddered and whined with each quick, stinging smack across the backs of his thighs, but he liked the heavy, thudding hits best. He'd beg after those, a long, groaning fuck, sir, more tumbling out of him. Those were the hits that had him trying to rut against the thigh Bryan had bracketing his knees in, had him damn-near digging holes into the velvet with his finger nails. 

When he'd first set eyes on Wheeler, that night, before Mox had squirreled away all his attention, Bryan had wondered what it would be like. To guide him, to teach him, to watch him blossom under the attention.

Bryan didn't need to wonder. Stretched out in front of him—all his miles of smooth, bruising skin—Wheeler was in full bloom.

He laid down another heavy strike, and Wheeler went slack across his lap. Every ounce of strength he was using to keep from toppling over left him in a rush, and his long, low groan ended in a whimper. He left a smear of tears across the velvet, moisture glinting off his thick eyelashes. 

He didn't wait for Wheeler to tap, didn't push hard enough past the first hitching breaths to try and wring a safe word out of him. Not yet, anyway. Bryan dropped the paddle to the floor the moment any and all the remaining fight and tension drained out of him. Everything he had left just drained away, like there was nothing left but the pain and the heat.

Bryan gently soothed a hand over the angry, bruising skin. Wheeler was smooth and hot beneath his palm, barely even enough left in him to shiver and whine at the touch.

"Oh, there you are," Bryan murmured, taking a chance to drag a kiss against Wheeler's hip and got a choked sob for his trouble, such a pretty sound. His cock was still hard, still leaving a damp trail where it dragged across the rough denim of Bryan's jeans, still leaving him shuddering. "That's my good boy, just perfect," Bryan promised, and pressed another kiss to the bend of his hip. "My perfect boy."

His breath hitched a little, and he clumsily turned his head to smile, warmly, up at Bryan. "Hmmph, thank you, Bry."

He carefully disentangled their legs, freeing Wheeler to gracelessly flop over onto his side with a tiny, sniffly giggle. "How are you feeling? Anything feel wrong?"

"No, s'good. All of it. Feels good." He gave a halfhearted stretch, and squirmed a little closer so he could snag a hand on Bryan's shirt and give him a pleading grin. "Cuddle me."

It would've been too much to ask for Wheeler to be just a little less interesting. A little less sweet and endearing, a little less wily, a little less tough. A less fascinating puzzle for Bryan to pick apart. It would've been easier if Mox hadn't found himself someone that Bryan wanted to steal.

"Yeah, come on up here," he murmured, curling his arm beneath Wheeler's shoulders. He hauled this kid up against his chest, and dragged over one of the soft blankets that Wheeler had asked for, gently draping it over his mottled shoulders. "Let's get you nice and comfy."

He hummed and uselessly tried to help tuck the blanket around himself. "M'already comfy."

Bryan gently batted Wheeler's clumsy hands away. Kid was dead weight where he was still draped across Bryan's lap, and he still tried to help. "Stop, just relax, Wheeler," Bryan chuckled, pinning Wheeler's arms to his chest with a layer of soft, fuzzy fleece. "Just let me take care of you, now."

Cheeks wet and eyes still glassy, Wheeler just smiled up at him. "You already took pretty good care'a me," he muttered, squirming and curling a little further toward Bryan. 

And what did Mox expect him to do with that, with him? How could he expect Bryan to give him back?

Bryan carefully gathered Wheeler up against his chest, sinking back into the soft cushions. He stroked his fingertips over Wheeler's temple, and the kid tilted his wet cheek into Bryan's palm with a pleased little sigh. Bryan wanted to keep him. "God, you are gorgeous," he murmured, nose pressed down into Wheeler's soft hair. "Absolutely perfect, you took that so well."

He purred, nuzzling his face down into the crook of Bryan's neck, sniffling. Just a puddle in his arms, all soft and sweet. "Th'nks."

"Oh, you are more than welcome," he murmured, rocking them gently. He wondered, briefly, if he was just as polite with Mox. Or if he was simply putting on a show for Bryan, if that was the difference, if that was why he'd been sent to Bryan instead. A need to play a different role. "So polite, aren't you? Thanking me like a good boy should. You really are wonderful, can't believe Mox would ever let you out of his sight."

Wheeler hummed, hands worming out of the blankets and beneath. Bryan's shirt, clinging to him. "Di'n't want you to feel forgotten about," he said, simply, rubbing his cheek against the dip of Bryan's clavicle. "Thought he was leavin' you out."

He frowned. What was he being left out of? "What do you mean?"

"Mox thought he was bein' a bad boyfriend," Wheeler said, as if that made all the sense in the world. Bryan, on the other hand, felt like he'd been slapped in the face.

He and Mox had been tied together, sure, for a long damn time. Almost as long as he and Regal—as Mox and Regal, even. But it wasn't anything more. They didn't do labels, save for he and Regal, and even that wasn't half as concrete as Bryan would've liked. They weren't—anything, they just were. Weren't they?

He must have gone tense as he waded through the minefield that Wheeler had just dropped him into, because the kid shifted around to look up at Bryan, questioningly. He thought he'd get the sweet, cuddly kid a little bit longer, get to keep floating him long enough to burn the night I to his memory. But whatever he saw, his eyes went from soft and fuzzy and glittery with tears, to bright with delight in an instant. "Oh my god."

He winced. "Please, don't."

"No, no, oh my god!" He laughed and sat up, then hissed and settled back onto his hip—but not once did he stop giggling at Bryan. There were tears still wet on his cheeks, tears that Bryan had beaten out of him, and he was giggling. "I asked! I literally asked him if you were a thing, and he said yes!"

"We are not."

"You have dates!"

"No we don't, we just—"

"Watching MMA together is only not a date if it's at a sports bar, there's no ice cream shop for dessert, and no one gets head."

He glared down at Wheeler, as mean as he could muster. The kid only laughed harder, legs kicking at the blanket wrapped around him. "Can we go back to five minutes ago? When you were cute?"

"Oh, fuck you. I'm always cute." He rolled his eyes, still grinning. "I can't believe you thought—"

"Well, maybe I would've thought differently if he'd said anything," Bryan grumbled. "Not like I had any hints."

"Bryan, he shares with you. Like, everything. He's nice, and he gives things away all the time, and he's bad at math so he tips really well, but—he tends to give without much thought." He'd been tangled up with Mox for weeks, not much more, and he'd already had him nailed down. "But with you and me—and with William and Claudio and Eddie—he shares. And sometimes it's the food off his plate, or the shirt off his back, but most of the time it's just, you know, him. His thoughts and his ideas, and even just his enthusiasm."

Bryan shook his head, "It's just who—"

"It's just nothing. How often does he just, out of the blue, give you something just because it made him think of you?" Wheeler asked, pulling back a little further, arms crossed over his chest. "Sometimes it's books, or a treat, or a funny shirt. Sometimes it's just a seemingly useless fact he read somewhere that he thinks you'll find interesting. Sometimes it's a joke he thinks you'll laugh at. He does that with us, with his people. No one else."

He stared down at Wheeler, at a loss for words. Because he was right. He was, the little shithead. Bryan had never really clocked it like that. Never thought it anything more than Mox being Mox. 

Wheeler poked him in the chest. "You get his effort, and his care. He doesn't share that with just anybody."

"You're too smart for your own good," Bryan said, before he could stop himself.

"And you're too stupid." He looked stern for a moment, but then he just smiled again. "He practically delivered me to you and said, 'I saw this and thought of you.'"

"Well maybe it would've been more obvious if he'd told me that," Bryan grumbled and reached out to flick Wheeler's nose. He reached for the pile of chocolate he'd set to the side and practically threw it at Wheeler, just to get him to shut up. "Here, have your stupid chocolate."

He didn't seem to mind one bit, though. Didn't flinch away from him or roll his eyes or do much more than make a pleased little noise and lean himself back into Bryan's chest. "Oh, thank you!"

"You don't have to keep thanking me, but it's cute as hell," he murmured, nudging his nose against the top of Wheeler's head as he tried not to get used to the weight and warmth of him. It was hard, though, having that grounding heat to concentrate on, to distract him from his new, strange thoughts about Mox. But it was hard to separate the two when they were already so intertwined. "I bet I could layer bruises up and down your back," he said, instead, "so deep that wearing a shirt would hurt, and you'd thank me so sweetly. Wouldn't you?"

Wheeler shivered, cheeks ruddy and warm where he pressed tighter into Bryan's shoulder. "Well, maybe you'll just have to try that next time."

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Single Mother

Blackpool Combat Club X Fem Reader

The Blackpool combat club’s reaction to you becoming a single mom

Main Masterlist

I woke up in the morning feeling like absolute garbage. This whole week I had just been feeling off. I thought it might be stress with everything going on lately but I knew what stress felt like. I was sick, not sick as in I have a cold, just sick. Tony hadn’t been booking me TV due to my sickness and I was grateful for that. However, being a part of the Blackpool Combat Club meant I would still have to be at every show and be ringside for the boy’s matches. Currently, I sat on the large couch in our private locker room eating crackers since it was the only thing I could hold down. I had never felt so sick in my entire life, this was unlike me. I never was sick, I was always ready for a fight. I needed to be. I know this frightened the BCC, they didn’t know what to do. Alone with my thoughts, Bryan entered the room with a concerned look in his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked nervously. “Like shit” I responded. I could see the gears turning in his head, I wondered what he was thinking. “What are your symptoms again?”  “Nausea, dizziness, some morning sickness. I just feel horrible. Why do you ask?” Bryan knew my symptoms, he and Mox were dealing with my sick ass all week. “I’m just thinking. Do you think that you could be pregnant?” Bryan oddly calm. “Why would you think I’m pregnant?” I asked him confused. “I’m just trying to think why you have been so sick recently. I also have two kids, ya know. I think I know pregnancy symptoms when I see them” This whole conversation between Bryan and I made me uncomfortable, yet he had a point. The more I thought about it, maybe I was pregnant. I didn’t even realize that I missed my period. 

It felt like the longest five minutes of my life as I awaited the results from the piece of plastic I held in my hand. This couldn't be happening right now, no way I could be pregnant. I paced around the small washroom as I awaited the results. The entire BCC stood on the other side of the door, guarding it like their lives depended on it. “What does it say?” yelled Mox through the door. “Nothing yet” I responded. After a few more moments of panicking the five minutes were up. I was too scared to look at the results. I wasn’t ready to be a mother, let alone a single mother! How would I explain this to everyone?

I looked at the test and felt my stomach drop. Two lines, I was pregnant. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what to say. “Is everything okay in there?” Bryan asked carefully. I said nothing as I opened the door. They could tell by the tears that I was pregnant. I was greeted by a big group hug as I sobbed. We were the most badass faction in this company, what would people say about this? “It’s okay, It’s okay Y/n,” They told me as they ushered me back into our locker room. “No, it’s not okay. How the fuck am I supposed to raise a child!” I confessed 

“We will all help you” Bryan assured me “You don’t have to make a decision right now but whatever you do we will be there for every second” Claudio explained “We are family. You have nothing to worry about Y/n” I didn’t know what would happen, this was a lot to take in but I was grateful I had these guys who would be there for me for every second of it. 

[mjfass]

Twice. Bryan Danielson really slapped Wheeler Yuta TWICE, while Yuta just put his hand behind his back and let him it happen.

[faggotmox]

title: I Won't Last A Day Without You rating: general pairing: Wheeler Yuta/William Regal (former), Bryan Danielson/Wheeler Yuta word count: 530 warnings: all hurt no comfort, villains being villains, like abuse honestly summary: Yuta's internal crisis waiting to see Bryan in the hospital. (Directly Post All Out 2024)

[link to ao3]

There’s no one else.

The halls are quiet this time of night, the white walls screaming silently at Yuta as he waits and waits. Knots of anxiety and fear fighting it out in the pit of the young man’s stomach. There’s no one else. Is there anything left? Why did this happen? The silence of the hospital did little to quiet Yuta’s thoughts as he questioned everything he held dear for the last few years.

There aren’t many contacts in Yuta’s phone anymore. Let alone people he could actually talk to, no one else that knew the situation. Briefly Yuta wondered if he texted Eddie to concede about Claudio, if that would get him anything. It didn’t seem fair. Eddie warned him many times, but it always fell on deaf ears. Just like what happened before with the Best Friends.

Tucked away at the back of Yuta’s mind, in a locked box adorned with dust, was the possibility of contacting someone he swore he’d never speak to again. The screen of his phone stayed black as Yuta tried to steal his will against temptation. Self control and discipline were exactly what was expected of him right now. Except, Yuta thought, if he contacted this person then at least he might get some insight into what happened.

Before the young man could make sense of his own feelings around the idea, his phone lit up. Illuminated on the display was the name. The fear in the pit of Yuta’s stomach won the fight. The melancholy soft rock of the Carpenters played the ringtone Yuta never had the guts to change. The sickeningly happy image of two smiling men drenched in sweat after training that also stayed the same. Yuta didn’t expect to ever be contacted again so he kept the personal touches to comfort himself.

Eventually the song stopped playing, no longer bouncing down the empty halls. The haunting image disappeared from the screen, like the ghost of the man pictured. As the fear eased out of Yuta’s gut, the voicemail notification popped up. A cold sweat broke out across his skin as the implication hung in the air.

The phone was left on top of the hard hospital seat as he started to pace in short little strides that grew longer into chaotic routes up and down the hall. Everything in his brain screamed ‘danger! don’t listen to the message’ over the gullible naivety of his heart. After all, there was the smallest possibility that the message could help, right?

After ten long minutes worth of pacing, the worn out Yuta finally broke down. The phone was retrieved, unlocked, and the voicemail played. As the recording started the young man realized he was holding his breath and exhaled loudly. The voice of his old mentor, his former family, came through the speaker.

“Sunshine, I know you’re not going to want to hear this.” No pleasantries, no fondness, no kindness. The nickname sounded like a formality or maybe a jab. “He deserved it. As did you.” The devastating click that signaled the end of the call broke what was left inside Yuta.

There was no one else. There was nothing left.

[blackpoolcombatwriter]

Laptop: new

Plot bunny: present, for now

Me: writing

Story: turns sad

FUCK!

[sheinthatfandom]

For whatever reason the transparent background I had on it wouldn’t stay but I finally finished my BCC as the van helsing brides in honor of the amazing fic “the Gods of spiders and flies” by @old-no7

Marishka - Jon Moxley

Verona - Bryan Danielson

Aleera- Claudio Castagnoli

Thank you to @pepper-ika for always being open to giving advice and my wifey @icecream-and-gadreel for cheering me on and keeping me hyped

[nextstopwonderland]

Farmers Market AU graphic based on the concept I posted here.

Little more not-ficced plot under the cut:

Local farmer Bryan. He’s got a stall at the Farmer’s Market. Eddie drags Mox there one weekend all “it’s my ma’s bday I gotta get her some flowers”. is like “that’s what a fuckin florist is for” while Eddie rambles on about eucalyptus & lavender.

So there’s Mox at 10am on a Saturday in his leather jacket browsing stalls with disinterest when he sees this long-haired hippie motherfucker laughing as he rings up an old lady. The smile drops from his face when he sees Jon, looking him up in down with a raised eyebrow. “That used to be a an animal, you know” nodding at his jacket. Queue vegan environmentalist judgmental bickering that feels more like flirting. 5 minutes later Mox is walking away with an arm full of melons and a name: Bryan. As he approaches the flower stand, Eddie takes one look at his arms, then glances over his shoulder in Bryan’s direction and says “aw HELL no”.

He doesn’t stop ribbing Mox in the car later. “You don’t even like watermelon, man. Getting your eye turned by some hippie of all people, what the fuck you gonna do with 5 pounds worth of that shit?”

Mox flips him off and blows smoke out the window.

He goes back the next Saturday.

(Someone who isn’t me write this for real, I’m lazy)

ETA: I wrote the futurefic here