#my writing; hangman page

[junglemax]

hangman has to babysit.

[mini drabble]

“-dinner is in the fridge, you just have to pop it into the oven,” Christian says, putting his coat on. “Thanks for doing this for me. I owe you one.”

“No problem,” Hangman says. He doesn’t understand why two adults need babysitting, let alone two adults that aren’t even actually related to Christian, but he’s getting free food and another favor added onto his title shot, so it’s not the worst thing in the world.

“If they cause any problems, text me.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Hangman assures. “Go.”

~

It really isn’t a problem, thankfully. Nick and Kip mostly keep to themselves, and Hangman just sits on the couch, reading the book he brought.

Nick leans over the couch next to Hangman. “When’s Father going to be back?”

Hangman pauses his reading, comprehending the words that were being spoken to him before he turns and looks at Nick. “You actually call him ‘Father’?”

“Yeah? What else would I call him?”

Christian, Dad, turtleneck guy- Hangman can think of a bunch of better names other than Father.

“I don’t call him Father,” Kip says matter-of-factly, stepping next to Nick with a smirk. “Christian does fine. Or Daddy works, too.”

Nick immediately pushes Kip away and attempts to kick at him. “Don’t be gross.” He turns to Hangman. “Can’t you do something about him?”

Hangman looks over at Kip, and is frankly at a loss, because what is he supposed to do? He’s never been in the position to have to discipline a grown adult.

“What is he gonna do, ground me?” Kip scoffs. “Oh, I’m so scared. Quit being a baby.”

“Hangman,” Nick whines, pointing at Kip.

“Quit it, both of you,” Hangman says, “or I’ll tell Christian you weren’t behaving.”

It works, miraculously, as Kip raises his hands in surrender and sulks off.

“I don’t know why I had to be part of that,” Nick grumbles, pushing off the couch.

Because you’re being annoying, Hangman wants to say, but doesn’t, and instead turns back to his book.

[kennyyomega]

you can play the wolf but you can't escape the woods: a hangmatt drabble

title: you can play the wolf but you can't escape the woods characters: hangman adam page, matt jackson summary: it's this promo except matt's the only one at the locker room and there's angry kissing :) word count: 963, just a quickie

BANG BANG BANG.

Three loud knocks at the locker room door startle Matt, the sole occupant of the locker room. Nick and Okada are at gorilla and Jack is—wherever it is Jack goes when he’s not needed. Everyone else knows to stay out of The Elite’s way. 

BANG BANG. 

Except for whoever is on the other side of the door. 

There’s impatience in the knocks. Anger. Desperation. Someone really needing his attention. Someone who really wants something—or someone—that he has access to. His eyes flicker to the television in the room, live feed from the show showing Bryan throwing his hands up in celebration, the belt in one and the trophy in the other. 

The knob of the door rattles sharply. 

Taking all the time in the world, Matt attempts to suppress a smile as he crosses the room, but when he swings open the door to see his tall, glowering, blonde cowboy, he struggles to bite it back. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, offhanded, casual, like he wasn’t anticipating this very thing the moment Bryan got the three-count. His eyes slowly drift up Hangman, unafraid to meet the anger in his eyes. He lets his hands drop from across his chest to his pockets. “Anything I can do for you, Hangman?” 

There’s a snarl on Hangman’s face and Matt can see his anger, so white hot he seems to be struggling to get any words out. In lieu of those words, he shoves Matt stumbling back into the room. Scrambling for balance, Matt reaches out to Hangman, but his hand is forcefully swatted away. 

“Hanger, hey! You don’t have to come in so”—Hangman grabs a fistful of Matt’s shirt, twisting up the fabric, his pearl necklace catching in his fist at an awkward angle—“so hot. Ow.” 

Hangman ignores him, a little sting to Matt’s ego that makes his shaky grin turn into a bit of a grimace. The cowboy’s grip on him is tight. 

“I want us to be clear on one thing, Matt, alright?” he says, breathing hard, sweat from the matching still dripping down his brow. “I am not doing this for The Elite. I am not doing this for you. I am doing this for me. There is no game here and you are not winning.” 

“Well,” Matt drawls, unable to stop a little laugh carrying a nervous edge from bubbling up his throat. His eyes are glued to Hangman’s lips and he tries to recall the last time they were this close. Close enough to kiss. “I think I’m winning a little bit.” 

Hangman growls under his breath, a warning, and Matt squirms a little even as a thrill races up his spine. He’s seen Hangman through a lot over the years, but he’s never seen him quite like this—manic, obsessive, oozing desperation underneath all that angry bluster. 

Tentatively, like reaching out to a feral animal, Matt waggles his fingers, then wraps his hand around Hangman’s wrist and clears his throat. 

“But I’d never dream of playing games with you,” he says, lying through his teeth with another bright smile. Matt tilts his head just so, catching Hangman’s eyes, watching the flames burn behind green irises. “Never you, Hanger.” 

“You suspended me,” Hangman snarls, leaning down, closing the already small gap between them. “You suspended me and let him walk free. He ruined my life and you only bring me back now that he’s part of your little problem. You call that not playing games?” 

“Nooooo,” Matt draws the word out, waving a hand side-to-side. “I call it quid-pro-quo. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. It’s all—for mutual benefit.” 

“You little—” Hangman’s fist tightens and he shoves Matt roughly up against the wall, directly underneath the television where Bryan is giving his post-fight interview, and then Hangman’s lips are on his. 

The kiss is four months of anger and desperation. Teeth catch against Matt’s lips hard enough to draw blood, Hangman’s hand at his neck sits here with enough pressure to tease the promise of more, and a moan slips past Matt’s lips because he does want more. He craves more. Needs this side of Hangman like he needs air to breathe. He grabs the lapels of Hangman’s leather jacket, pulling him close until there’s no space left between the two of them. 

Hangman growls, his hand slipping up to Matt’s hair and pulling. Another moan spills past Matt’s lips as he knocks his hips forward, his hands slipping lower on Hangman’s torso, tracing the familiar planes of his body. 

And then, just like that, Hangman breaks the kiss with cheeks flushed, chest heaving, and his red hot anger still burning.  

 “I’ll do it,” he growls. “You asshole.” 

Matthew, dazed, blinks, runs his tongue over his lips and cheekily says, “Do what?” Hangman’s eyes darken further with an obsessive hunger for revenge. It’s a look Matt is intimately familiar with, but it’s usually one he sees in an old friend’s blue eyes, not Hangman’s green. 

Hangman lets his hand drop from Matt’s neck to his chest, his palm splayed out across his shirt.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Matt,” he says, leaning down by his ear. “It’s not as cute as you think it is.” 

And with that he’s gone. The locker room door shuts behind Hangman with a loud slam, leaving Matt in the room alone, breathless and disheveled. A moment later Nick walks in with Okada behind him, one eyebrow arched at the state his brother is in. 

“What was that—”

Matt holds up a hand and shakes his head, a slow smile spreading across his face as he smooths out the wrinkles Hangman left in his outfit. 

“Gentlemen, I think we’re going to be just fine.” 

[milk-crater]

Hey!

For fic prompt - Strickpage, can't think of a word but I feel like the picture gives enough of an idea 😁

This was fun! For this prompt, Hangman has to be the little dog who thinks he's being smooth, right? Right? ***

Swerve knew Hangman followed him on all his socials: trading romantic barbs online was kind of their thing. Swerve sometimes wished it wasn’t, wished that rather than tagging each other on borderline sexually graphic fan art they could cross that line IRL, but his cowboy was seemingly too shy, too skittish. Would take a staple gun to Swerve’s chest but his ducked his head at the hint of a kiss. So whatever.

But then a user liked an old thirst trap photo of Swerve’s from two years ago. Swerve had lots of fans and haters which meant a lot of notifications. It wasn’t uncommon for folks to troll through his social media to either drool over him or try and dig up shit. But for some reason this ‘like’ caught Swerve’s eye. It had all the hallmarks of someone slipping up and clicking ‘like’ when they meant to be lurking: they had only liked this single pic, late at night.

And then there was the user name. ‘V-Lover.’ Yeah, sure that ‘V’ could stand for a lot of things. One of them might be ‘Virginia.’

After that V-Lover got bolder, liking just about everything Swerve posted. And fast. He even left a few comments. On a pic with Swerve covered in blood, he’d commented ‘You never looked better.’ And then on his rope bondage pic ‘I was wrong, you look better here.’

And then, on a pretty normal shirtless pic, any plausible deniability dropped: ‘God you’re so hot.’  

“I looked into his user profile like you asked, Boss,” Nana reported. “No name on file, but there is an email. It’s a school email from a teacher’s university. The same one that...”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Swerve said, happy to have his suspicions confirmed but not wanting all the mystique gone by having Nana say it aloud.

So Hangman was not only following him outright on social media, he had a little sock puppet liking all his spiciest pics.

Should he call Hanger out? Or ignore him and let him have his fun?

Swerve opted for a middle ground. He did his makeup and lay in bed and took selfie after selfie. In the end he chose one that looked sexily but also somewhat natural like Swerve had just woken up from a nap next to a lover.

He posted it with a caption: This ones for you, V-Lover.

He waited, curious to see if this would scare Hangman off.

V-Lover liked the post a minute later.  

[adampage]

Rapport Growth & Decay

Link to Ao3 (Ch. 1)

Pairing: Hangman/Renee (don't yell at me please i'll cry)

Word Count: 3,246

Summary: Cowboy is lonesome, on'ry, and mean.

[hangmatts]

just the tip

nsfw drabble!! 🌶️ [also on ao3!]

Ship: hangmatt (2021 heel matt)

Word Count: 600

—

How did they end up here? One minute they were arguing and the next, Matt was on his knees, mouthing at Adam’s pants. So, what exactly happened?

Adam doesn’t know, but he’s not complaining. Matt stormed into his room, talking about how pissed off he was at Adam. Hangman didn’t really pay attention to it. He talked back, having rebuttals at certain points. He doesn’t remember what was said when Matt was suddenly on his knees. He decided to play into it.

“That’s why you’re here? You wanted to talk all that shit just so I could shut you up?” Adam moved back, tilting Matt’s chin up.

Matt nodded. “Please?”

“Alright. We’re gonna do it a little differently this time.”

—

Matt undid Hangman’s belt, roughly pulling his pants and boxers down at the same time.

He took in all of Adam in one swift movement before immediately being pulled off. Matt whimpered at the loss. He looked up at Adam with a pout.

“Just the tip. You haven’t earned all of it yet.”

Matt continued looking up as he took the tip in. He started lightly sucking on it, taking in the sight of Adam throwing his head back.

“Fuck, just like that darlin’” Adam ran his fingers through Matt’s hair.

Matt preened at the nickname.

He pulled back, licking a stripe up Adam’s dick. He kissed the tip while looking up at Adam. Matt thought that move would allow him to get more. He was wrong.

“That felt good but it wasn’t what I asked. Don’t do it again, okay?” Adam asked.

Matt nodded.

“Good girl.” He replied, brushing Matt’s hair away.

Matt started licking at the tip before going back to sucking on it. He hummed around it which caused Adam to grip his hair tighter. Matt smiled to himself knowing he could get Adam like that. He pulled back to kiss the tip and swirl his tongue around it, looking up as he went right back to sucking it.

“Fuck, baby.” Adam mumbled.

He doesn’t know how Matt does it but soon enough, he’s close to finishing.

“Keep doing that. So fucking close.” Adam’s grip got even tighter on Matt’s hair.

Matt followed those exact instructions. Adam’s moans grew louder with each movement as he felt himself grow close. He quickly pulled out, beginning to stroke himself. Matt initially whined from the loss but got in position. He stuck his tongue out and got ready to take all of what Adam gave him.

Adam let out one final moan as he finished on Matt’s face. Most of it landed in Matt’s mouth. Matt kept his tongue out, making sure to show it all off. He let Adam take in the sight before swallowing it all.

“Shit. You got some-” Adam brought his thumb down to swipe at Matt’s cheek, which had a bit of his cum on it.

Before Adam could pull his thumb back, Matt took it in his mouth. He sucked it clean while keeping eye contact with Adam. He pulled off and batted his lashes as a finishing touch.

—

Adam quickly realizes why Matt’s here. Matt wants more. He needs more. And fuck, he doesn’t wanna give Matt the satisfaction, but he does. He’s just as desperate, so he gives in.

“Meet me after the show. I’ll text you my room number.” Adam said, putting his belt back on.

Matt wiped his mouth as he got up. He nodded at Adam before leaving.

Adam could only think about one thing as he watched Matt leave. “What the fuck did I just get myself into?”

[miserablecreachur]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: All Elite Wrestling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: "Hangman" Adam Page/Swerve Strickland | Isaiah Scott Characters: "Hangman" Adam Page, Swerve Strickland | Isaiah Scott Additional Tags: hate blowjobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Kayfabe RPF Summary:

“And if you get there first, you know that I’m going to be there to just take it from you.”

Hangman snaps at that, pushing Swerve hard against the wall, his hands bunched up in the hoodie he’s wearing under his jacket. “No. You will never have it. Never.”

“Never like you never think about me?” Hangman pushes him harder into the cinder block concrete wall. “If that’s how you define never, then I like my chances, Page.” 

[fortjester]

post to announce my tlt bre fic title, now that we're two days out from posting day :)

as far as the mad libs game goes...

prolly shoulda gone w my gut and made the amount of underscores equal to the amount of letters in each missing word, since i seem to have accidentally given the impression that each word was only four letters long. apologies, folks, next time i'll play it more like hangman.

anywho, shout out to these guesses specifically

[heelkenny]

there's an interview right before revolution 2020 where kenny and hangman talked about their action figures. kenny brought up the barbed wire broom as being his weapon of choice in the Mox fued.

then in bte 204 Hangman talked about teaming up with a broom and cleaning his house better than anyone ever had, as thinly veiled metaphor for tagging with kenny (who he was tag champs with at the time)

and of course Hangman talked about looking for brooms in his conversation with Dark Order about how they just want him to be happy and for him to find what makes him happy

so to Hangman, kenny handing him the barbed wire broom is about coming home and finding what makes him happy. to Kenny it's a way of saying to hangman that their fued against the bcc is their shared fight.

[himbos-hotline]

For the lil writing game, the word hug!

Send me a word and I'll put a line from what I'm writing as a response. If there is no word, I will write two sentences and share those.

Nope!

two lines:

He digs his nails slowly into his hardening cock and in his mind Kenny promises that even pleasure becomes soaked in pain. "All love must hurt." Kenny whispers from the deepest corner of his mind and Adam nods, nervous and frantic as he turns to press his forehead against the wall behind him.

[sychosid]

I've prayed enough, I rolled the dice

"Hangman" Adam Page/Swerve Strickland

[Ao3 link]

Swerve Strickland's forgotten, until he's reminded, and now he has to follow the chain into the unknown, way out there.

(Lord Huron inspired AU)

Ancient Names, Pt. I.

It was by a roadside stop.

A young woman, with ochre tinted skin and green eyes sat there, at a table just outside the entrance to the brown brick building. She had jet black hair, a thick curtain of bangs covering her forehead. Her clothes were unremarkable: a purple and red hoodie, ripped black jeans, and black converse shoes. More notably were her various black piercings and tattoos. Industrials, conch, multiple lobe piercings. A septum piercing, a labret piercing, snake bites, and an eyebrow piercing on her right eyebrow. All black, either small hoops or simple studs. Around her wrist, just barely peeking out from her hoodie sleeve was a tattoo of barbed wire that seemed to go up her arm.

By all means, nothing was flashy about her to Swerve. Some girl into alt culture.

Her feet tapped along to an unknown beat, as she shuffled cards and aimlessly laid them down on a taffeta tablecloth. The cloth was red, embroidered in a rainbow of different celestial shapes. Stars, moons, ringed planets, suns. There was a clear handmade quality to the embroidery job. She would pick up the cards, roll some dice, lay cards down, and pick them up after looking them over. Her face changed from apathetic, to amused, to something adjacent to excited. Intrigued, even?

Swerve had been watching her for a while from his seat in his car. Ditching the sports car at home, he rented an SUV with some reasonable mileage. It still was a nice car, a deep red and only a year or so old.

He had been traveling alone. Leather jacket, fur lined around the neck covered his torso. He wore a hoodie, black, under the jacket, and tight fitting jeans with basketball shoes. His own scheme was reds and blacks. It amused him, the overlapping color scheme between himself and the young woman. The smirk on his face wouldn't exactly go away. Something was tempting him to humor the young lady. He had been observing as people walked by her, either ignoring her like she didn't exist, or whispering to each other and avoiding her like she was toxic to the touch.

There was a plastic fold out chair across from her, tucked into the table. In the twenty or so minutes he observed, not a single person sat down.

It wasn't a surprise. Normally these booths were set up to sell things like honey or local fruits. It wasn’t like there were any prices or things like that written down. Just…this young lady dealing cards and rolling dice to herself. 

Eventually, she stood up and went inside the rest stop building. That was when Swerve made his move. He exited his car, and walked to the folding table. Curiously, he looked over the set up, before pulling the plastic chair out and sitting down in it. There was a slight creak, the hard plastic bending a little under him. He leaned back, taking a photo of the table in front of him.

“That'll be five dollars.” The girl was next to him, silent like a stalking cat, holding a cup of something. Hershey's Ice Cream, with a straw in it. A milkshake.

Swerve hadn't even heard her come out but he didn't jump when she spoke. Still, a chill ran down his spine that he ignored, before looking up at the girl. He could better see her makeup too. Red around her eyes, thin black eyeliner, and black lipstick.

There was something about her dark green eyes; the amused smile on her face. It left another chill down his spine. This girl was cold.

“I’m kidding. I do everything for free. Sort of. I don’t take cash.” She moved around the table, sitting down across from the dark haired man. “I’m Caroline Cain.”

“Swerve. Strickland.” He introduces himself, leaning back in the plastic chair. He keeps up the unphased demeanor, despite the skin crawling sensation that wouldn’t get away.

Caroline hummed in response. “You’re looking for something, aren’t you?”

“Looking for something? Little lady, I'm not looking for anything.” Swerve knew he was lying, to her, and to himself.

“You’re searching. Wandering. Aimless. You forgot, and you need to remember.”

“Listen–”

“YOU listen.” Caroline snaps, squinting her eyes. She has the cards in hand, shuffling them and putting them down before grabbing the handful of dice. She holds them out, right in front of his mouth. “Blow.”

He follows the command as if compelled by her words.

She rolls the dice, the sound against the taffeta soft.

And then again,

And again.

Swerve looks over at the dice. A skull, a six, a four, and two twos.

“You’re looking for the Dead Eye. Your luck has been set back. You don’t even realize it. There’s much in your life you don’t even know you’re missing, you’re not seeing.”

Swerve stared down at the dice. At the skull.

“It counts as one. You’re real lonesome. A lone cowboy, hm?”

“I’m not the cowboy.” The response was automatic, Swerve snapping his head up. Caroline looked…smug? Curious? Her face was unreadable to him. It unsettled him.

“Mmm…no you’re not.” She nodded, putting the dice aside and grabbing the deck of cards. They were playing cards, simple enough. 

The joker. And two twos. Three cards. 

The joker, a dancing skeleton. One of the two cards was a skull, and the other was two moons. He’d never seen cards with suits like this. 

“You’re looking for him. The joker, and you’re walking parallel paths. He and you, you’re undergoing a great change. You both have to follow your intuition. The ■■■■■ is broken, but you can fix it. Follow the ■■■■ ■■■■■. You need to–”

“That’s it. Whatever bullshit scam this is, it’s over.”

“Scam?” Caroline hummed, looking to the side. “If you say so.”

He pulls out his wallet, taking out a twenty dollar bill and throwing it on the table before walking away. She waves a little, smiling.

Swerve doesn’t look back.

The sky had been clear, but there was thick cloud coverage moving in from the southeast. It was dark, gray clouds. A storm was rolling in while Swerve got in his rental car. He drove away, turning his headlights on as he exited the parking lot. Something was harrowing about that interaction.

There was a chill in his bones as he drove into the storm, his head drowning in thoughts, flashes, memories that he couldn’t remember.

Hail hit his car, small pellets, 

before driving into rain, 

into snow. 

The roads were winding,

up and down,

unfamiliar to Swerve.

His car drove into the mist, descending into the valley of a hill. 

He was driving for hours. 

He was driving for minutes. 

Through decades, through eons, through nothing, through everything. 

His younger self, somewhere on the streets of Seattle. His veins, filled with void. He didn’t know, but he did. He wanted to be somewhere, he had to be.

Where did he have to be?

A familiar face, familiar dirty blonde hair, blood spilling out. Choking on it. Gurgling up, uncanny taste of metal as he can’t breathe anymore, his neck is chained, he can’t breathe–

Swerve sits up with a start, in a motel room. Cold sweat drips down his forehead, the hum of the radiator and his own breathing filling the room. A car passes by, headlights briefly illuminating the room. There’s the shadow of a man, tall and broad. His hair is to his shoulders, and that’s all Swerve can tell. He’s familiar as much as he’s unfamiliar. 

At the edge of the bed, there it is. The chain from his dream. The chain that was wrapped around the shadow’s neck.

He reaches out, and it’s colder than ice, and it hurts, but he reaches out and holds it and brings it up, and sees it, sees the rust and the dried blood, flaking off, and something compels him, draws him in, and he brings his lips to the blood and it’s sweet and it’s warm and it’s like everything he’s needed and it’s like nothing he’s ever had.

He knows now, his soul does, that this was what he needed to find. What Caroline had said. What she was saying. This chain was binding, and it had been broken, and now he had to follow it to way out there to find what he needed.

He had to follow the chain.

To him.

[junglemax]

hangman has a question for christian.

[mini drabble]

“Christian.” Hangman doesn’t knock, just enters. “Can I ask you something?”

“I don’t see why not,” Christian says. “What do you need?”

“Do you ever miss how it used to be?”

“Do I miss how it used to be?” Christian repeats. “I’m going to need you to elaborate.”

“With…with your old family. Your first family. Do you ever miss that?”

Christian chuckles. “Hangman, I’m going to tell you something from personal experience, okay?”

Hangman nods once.

“I do miss it, but I miss what it could’ve been, had I not been disappointed time and time again. I did everything I could to keep things together, and you know what happened? Everything was wasted away in the end. Right now, I have a family that does not disappoint me.” Christian gets up and places a hand on Hangman’s shoulder. “I’m more than happy to help you find those right people.”

Hangman’s mouth twists. “I’m okay,” he says. “I’ll be going now.”

Christian nods and removes his hand. “Take care.”

[kennyyomega]

title: getting drunk on your antidote  word count: 528 characters: hangman adam page, matt jackson notes: first kiss takes place during the hangmega tag run. second takes place post-reunion. third is sometime just before blood and guts 2024. summary: three times matt and hangman kiss.

One of the first times they kiss is the first time Matt tastes whiskey.

It fills his mouth, strong, with the ghost of a burn; a hint of caramel. He hates it, the taste—and he hates everything else that comes with the liquor, too, but the taste is notably gross. None of that stops him from kissing Hangman back, though. One hand on the back of his neck, fingers pressing hard into Hangman’s skin, their lips clashed together, desperate and a little angry with each other. Hangman’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip, drawing a moan from him, and Hangman tugs him closer roughly by the lapels of his vest. The taste is almost overwhelming. It tastes like watching Hangman lose himself.

A loud crash from somewhere nearby backstage is what breaks them apart, the both of them breathless.

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff. It tastes horrible,” Matt says. It’s somehow easier to say that than ask him why he’s drinking at all.

Hangman wipes his lips with the back of his hand while Matt watches him with dejected annoyance.

“Shut up.”

And that’s that.

—————

The second time they kiss, there’s not a hint of whiskey on Hangman’s lips. He tastes like mint, and the arena’s bad coffee backstage a little. Again, Matt doesn’t care. This kiss is more tender than their last. It’s relief, it’s coming home, it’s i missed you so much and i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry .

Hangman kisses him with a smile on his lips and Matt sinks readily into the embrace Hangman pulls him into, like he’s been waiting forever for this moment. And, truthfully, he has. It felt like a lifetime. Matt breaks the kiss to lean back and look up at Hangman, arms still threaded around his neck.

“You taste good,” Matt says.

Hangman laughs. “What, like bad coffee?”

Matt leans forward, pressing his forehead to Hangman’s, a rare, soft smile on his lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

—————

The last time they kiss, the whiskey is on his lips again. It’s not nearly as strong as it was that first time it filled his mouth, but unmistakably there. It softens the sharp edge of his kiss, but Hangman doesn’t notice. He has Matt pressed up against the locker room wall, his lips rough and teeth sharp, four months of anger and resentment pouring out of him into the kiss.

All Matt can focus on is the whiskey—its burn, the familiar hint of caramel, just like the first time Hangman lost himself. He thinks about the four months the cowboy spent alone in his own head most likely with a bottle of liquor in his hand. All because of the choices Matt made.

He allows Hangman to drag his teeth sharply across his lips and dig his hands into his hips hard enough to leave bruises, little reminders, one to represent each of his sins against the Hangman.

When they break apart, he mirrors Hangman’s anger. It’s easier to be angry than to be vulnerable. “The whiskey still tastes horrible.”

Hangman looks like he wants to tear into Matt, but instead he says, “Shut up.”

And that’s that.

[milk-crater]

Sorry to keep asking request

Diva

Adam Cole/ Adam Page

This fic kind of got away from me ;_;. Adam-squared but Kenny Omega haunts the narrative. Hope you like it.

***

“Oh, and sir, someone left a message for you,” the hotel clerk said after Hanger checked in. Hanger felt a soft ping of dread: who knew he had a reservation here? He’d been lucky and avoided the paparazzi so far. He’d arrived a day early. He wore sunglasses and a surgical mask. He wore a denim baseball cap, eschewing the cowboy hat that so many other country music stars wore. He didn’t even travel with an entourage, feeling it was easier to slip through a crowd incognito that way.   

But someone had left a message for him. Someone who knew he’d come a day early before the Grammy’s, even knew what hotel he’d be staying at.

The clerk slipped a small envelope across the desk. Hanger took out the small note card.

Hey cowboy,

Sorry about what I said before. Let me make it up to you. Room 409, 8PM.

There was no signature on the note but Adam already knew who’d written it.

Kenny.

Kenny Omega. The biggest pop star in the world. One of his oldest pals. His mentor. His one and off again…boyfriend? Well, whatever they were, they’d been ‘off-again’ ever since the nominations for Album of the Year had come out and Adam Page’s album Anxious Millennial Cowboy had gotten a nom.

Kenny had always been so supportive when Adam had been struggling to get his music heard. Paid for studio time, produced his first album, had him as guest vocals on a surefire hit. But now, now that Hanger was finally getting some recognition on his own, Kenny had changed. Instead of being happy for him, Kenny had sent Hanger some texts. Some really mean texts.

Congrats on the nomination. For such a shy guy you really worked your connections well.

People only know who you are because they know ME.  

You gonna to thank me first when you win?

Never mind that Kenny’s album, One-Winged Angel, was also nominated for Album of the Year. Never mind that it was the front runner to win. Now that Adam was finally getting some respect in the industry, Kenny had gone from sweet to sour, from caring to caustic so fast that it made Adam’s head spin.

Kenny had followed up with some apology texts, but Hanger had left them on read.

Now though, Adam felt his resolve weakening. The thought of seeing Kenny in person was just too tempting. Surely they could work through their shit if they were in the same room. Could get back on the same page before one of them (probably Kenny) won Album of the Year tomorrow. Could just fuck away any tension that words couldn’t resolve.

Adam tightened his grip on his rolling suitcase. It was 7:45. He’d just go right to Kenny’s room now. No need to drop his own stuff off.

He went up to room 409, and took a couple of deep breaths.

When he knocked on the door Adam Cole answered.

Adam Cole was the front man for Undisputed Era, a rock band whose self-titled album was also up for AotY. Cole was outgoing, charismatic, well-spoken, confident. Basically all the things that Hanger wasn’t (“Yeah, but you’re talented,” Kenny had told him when Hanger had confessed his Adam Cole-related insecurities. When Kenny was on your side it was the best feeling in the world). Somehow Hanger and Cole had gotten in the habit of hooking up whenever they were at the same music festival. The man was always a good lay, and he didn’t seem to want to be anything more than fuck buddies, which was a relief to Hanger who already had something deep and complicated in Kenny.

Still, though he more or less liked Cole, Adam was disappointed to see him in the doorway. Why had Kenny asked Adam Cole there?

Cole winked at him.

“Well, don’t just stand there, cowboy. Come on in.”

Adam stepped into the suite. Cole gestured with his arms and smiled wide as he gave a tour of the hotel suite, pointing out each feature like they were on some house hunting reality TV show. The jacuzzi, two separate bedrooms, the large common area with kitchenette. Adam took it all in, the whole time wondering where Kenny was.   

“Big place for one man,” Hanger commented, wondering why Kenny would want all this space. He was a bit of a diva, sure, but this was overkill.

“Yeah, well, Kyle and Bobby’s plane were delayed so they’ll arrive first thing in the morning. Roddy’s flight also got bumped so he’s arriving at, like, 1AM,” Cole explained with a hint of irritation. He brightened when he looked to Hanger. “But that just means you and me have the place to ourselves till then.”

Oh.

This was the Undisputed Era’s suite, not Kenny’s.

Cole stepped in for a kiss but he paused when he saw the look on Hanger’s face.

“What?” Cole asked. His grin was wry but there was worry in his eyes.

“Sorry, it’s just, uhh...” Hanger tried to figure out what to say. “I think I got the wrong idea from the note at the reception desk.”

Cole laughed, leaning in to place a kiss on Hanger’s neck. “What did you think we’d do up here? Play checkers?”

“It’s not the ‘what’ I got wrong but the ‘who,’” Hanger admitted. Cole leaned back to look at his face.

“The who…? But…” The penny dropped. “You thought Kenny left the note.”

Hanger shrugged. Cole looked at him with a mix of emotions: pity, disdain, and unexpectedly, hurt. Then Cole hunched over as he laughed.

“Wow, Adam! You’re really pathetic, you know that? Sooo hung up on what Kenny Omega thinks about you. You should hear the things he says about you behind your back.”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same to you, Cole,” Hanger replied hotly. His own words gave him pause: maybe it said something about Kenny that he felt all right bad-mouthing one Adam to another, keeping them on this emotional teeter-totter with him as the fulcrum.

“You came running so fast,” Cole said. His voice and face were gleeful and Hanger knew Cole grew malicious like this when his feelings were hurt. And the man was oh-so easily hurt. “Like a little lapdog who still comes when he’s called even after being hit. Hey, if Kenny told you to jump off a bridge, would yo--”

Cole didn’t get the question fully out of his mouth before Hanger stepped forward, hand in Cole’s long hair to yank his head back. Hanger cut off any further words with a kiss.

When he stopped to breath, Cole blinked at him.

“What?”

“It’s what we’re here for, right?” Hanger said, pushing Cole down onto the couch. Cole got over his surprise to reach up and pull Hanger down onto him.

***

“Hey, you need to go. Roddy’s plane just landed.”

Hanger had been dozing off in the bed, Cole next to him on his phone.

Hanger blearily pushed himself to a sitting position. “What? Don’t want him to find me here? I thought you lived for drama like that.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “We’re all on edge enough with the Grammys tomorrow. I don’t need Roddy giving me a lecture about sleeping with the enemy on top of that. Plus, I want to take a shower.”

“Fine, fine.” Hanger got to his feet and started getting dressed. He had to admit, while Cole did grind his gears, he always felt chilled out after they fucked. He didn’t have the usual worries and thoughts running around his head, the personal recriminations on repeat. He always felt weirdly at peace, the absolution of the afterglow. Maybe it was way he kept falling into bed with Cole despite not thinking about the man much otherwise.

Cole put his phone down but didn’t look up at Hanger.

“Hey, I meant what I said in the note.”

“What?” Hanger said, mind still pleasantly numb from sex and sleep.

“I’m sorry about what I said last time we saw each other.” When Hanger just looked at him blankly. “At Coachella. You know, what I said then. It was a low blow and I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Right, ‘Sorry about what I said before’ the note had said.“Honestly, Adam, don’t worry about it. I don’t even remember it.”

Now Cole looked at him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Hanger said easily. “You talk so much shit I’ve just learned to pay it no mind.”

Hanger thought he was being kind, that it would be a relief to Cole to know that Hanger didn’t bear him any ill will. But Cole looked like a kicked puppy.

“Oh. Great. Cool.” Adam picked up his phone and started typing.

“Um, good luck at the Grammys,” Hanger said weakly.     

Adam snorted at that, then seemed to reconsider. He glanced at Hanger.

“Hey, we’re planning on having a big victory part here tomorrow night. If you’re not too sore about losing, you should come.”

A victory party. As if Undisputed Era has already won Album of the Year.

You know Kenny’s winning, right? Hanger wanted to ask. But he didn’t, because as much as he hated Cole’s confidence he also kind of admired it.

“Thanks for the invite,” Hanger said, nodded to Adam with a half-smile, and left.

[adampage]

Post-Elite Reunion

Characters: Hangman Adam Page, Adam Cole, the Elite. Dark Order mention.

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Hangman needs a moment. Cole can't help himself.

Author's Note: Reunion highs are short-lived and the angst is fucking real.

It had been a night of epic highs. The pop of the crowd when Hangman returned, the swelling in his chest when he affirmed himself as a member of the Elite again for the first time in four years. The sweet moment when they went off the air and it was just him, his boys, and the crowd, for the first time in a long time.

He was happy, again. He felt whole. Complete.

It didn’t hit him until he’d taken a piss break - come back, realized Kenny knew about the Nod, forgave them - just how much he’d gone through in the past four years without them. How much pain and suffering and heartache he’d dealt with, not just in their absence, but in his own.

The high began to crash down around him, and he knew he needed a moment alone.

Nick and Matt were chattering happily to each other, backpacks and suitcases in tow, ready to find the nearest Wendy’s and fuck shit up, when Hangman held back. Kenny was a few paces ahead of him, and he stopped immediately when Hangman stopped walking. He gave him an inquisitive look, but he didn’t ask.

Softly, Hangman spoke. “I’ll…catch up with you guys in a few. I need a few minutes.”

“You sure?” Nick said. “We can wait up if you want.”

Matt watched him like a momma bear. Worried. Unsure. His hands held tightly to his backpack so he wouldn’t reach out to touch Hanger’s arm. He wondered silently to himself if Hangman was already regretting his decision to come back to them. Wondered what, in the span of an hour or so, he’d done to screw this up.

Hangman forced a small smile. “I’m good, really. Just. Need a second. Go on.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Kenny’s voice pulled Matt out of his silent panic, the gentle nudge at his arm careening his legs forward to walk away.

They hopped in the rental, Brandon meeting them with a happy grin. “Right, let’s go fuck up a Wendy’s!”

Matt looked out the window, watching Hangman’s shoulders sag deeply as he walked back inside the arena.

Hangman found a dark corner and sat there, head between his legs. He tried to breathe, in through his nose, out through his mouth, but it was getting more and more difficult with the tears threatening to flow from his eyes. (Er, his one good eye.)

He was so caught up in his own head that he didn’t even realize that someone had appeared in the dark and sat down next to him, until he felt the heat of the stranger’s warmth next to his body.

Adam Cole was the warmest person he knew.

Which was. A genuine surprise, given how he’s died before.

“So…back in the Elite, huh?” he asked, and somehow, it made Hangman shiver. It was baffling to him how warm Cole could be, and yet every word out of his mouth always felt like a numbingly cold dagger to his heart. Maybe the only symptom of Cole’s death was that his words could kill.

“Yeah,” Hangman choked out, wiping at his eye before pulling himself from between his own legs. “Yeah, sure am.”

Cole let a long pause play out between them. Hangman leaned his head back against the wall, looking as far up as he could.

“Are you happy?” Cole asked, when the silence had grown very deep and Hangman had almost gotten used to it.

The smile that spread across Hangman’s lips was real. It was real because it happened without him even knowing. Cole’s blue eyes watched it for any sign of weakness, and he couldn’t find any.

“I am happy,” Hangman whispered, pulling his legs a little closer and settling his head on them, so he could look at Cole and show him he meant it. Because he did, and he wanted someone to know. Cole was here, and he knew him better than most. “More than I’ve been in…a while.”

Cole looked away from his smile, finally. Ran his tongue across his lips and bit down on his lower lip. He ran a hand through his hair, and Hangman noticed him take a deep breath.

“That’s really too bad,” Cole started, and these were not the words Hangman was expecting at all. “Because you being happy…it came at a price, you know.”

A deep, heavy stone settled in the pit of Hangman’s stomach, and his mouth went dry. Confused, he searched for an explanation. “What - what does that even mean-?”

“You’re not a very good friend, are you?” Cole asked. Dagger. “You can’t ever be friends with more than one group of people at the same time, huh?” After dagger. “You always find a way to unburden yourself so that you only have to worry about a few people at a time.” After dagger.

Hangman couldn’t even breathe. Every nerve in his body had tensed.

“You always find a way to do the least amount of emotional work.”

Hangman swallowed.

“When are you going to learn?”

His nose flared at the words. Familiar to him. When are you going to learn, Hangman? When are you going to learn?

Cole scoffed. “You hurt the Dark Order, man. They're upset.”

That stung.

Cole continued. “Have you even texted them? Talked to them?”

Hangman couldn’t say anything. Because he hadn’t. Hadn’t said a word. But he was beginning to feel something else, as well. Because who was Adam Cole to tell Hangman what being a bad friend was?

“I guess the Elite is still the same. Selfish assholes who don’t give a shit who they hurt. And they’re gonna bring you down with them. Again.” Dagger through the heart.

“You know what? That’s enough,” Hangman started, “because who the hell are you to tell me what a good fucking friend is?” He gazed at Cole with his good eye, the wrath clear upon his face. If Cole was going to hurt him, he wasn’t going to be the only one.

Cole looked away, jaw set.

“You tried to kill Nick, keep Kenny out of the country, and for what? So you could be the de-facto leader?” Hangman rolled his eyes. “And when you couldn’t do it with us, you went somewhere else and did it with another group of people who would follow you to the ends of the earth because they couldn’t see how fucked up you really are.”

He couldn’t believe Hangman would say that. That’s not true, Cole wanted to say. They knew how fucked up I was. How fucked up you made me. They didn’t care. They loved me anyway.

Cole began to protest, but Hangman cut him off. “And then they followed you here, you tried to do the same thing with Matt and Nick, and when you realized they were never gonna trust you the way they trust me, you got rid of them.”

“At least I know what to do with people who won’t ever trust me,” Cole said, calmly as he could. His entire body was vibrating with anger, but he wouldn’t let Hangman see it. “At least I know who to drop. I know who’ll have my back no matter what, but you choose to surround yourself with snakes.” Cole got up, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation.

Hangman was looking down at the floor, irate.

Cole kicked at Hangman’s boot, forcing the cowboy to look at him. “If you think they trust you, you’re wrong.” He glared at him. “But that wasn’t what I came to say. You have some apologies to make.”

At this, the cowboy’s eye softened. His brow dipped low.

“You better make them, before it comes back to bite you in the ass.”

As Cole walked away, Hangman cleared his throat. It didn’t help, because his words came out like gravel. “Say hi to Roddy for me.” He’d meant it to hurt. Cole didn’t feel it.

“Apologize. Before they become your next problem.”

It was after midnight before Hangman walked through the doors of the nearest Wendy’s.

The boys popped when they saw him, and a grin broke out over his face.

“Hanger, we didn’t know what you wanted, so we kinda got you a little bit of everything.”

He sat down, dropped his backpack on the chair next to him.

Matt was the first to ask. “Everything good?”

“What?” Hangman said, before understanding the question. “Uh, yeah, I’m good, just. Got a little overwhelmed.” He pulled a fry from Matt’s pile. “Fuck, I miss carbs.”

He listened to the sound of the boys’ laughter, but all he could think about was the burning on his thigh. The phone in his pocket.

When he finished his first chicken sandwich, he pulled it out. Looked at his Dark Order group chat. All the gray bubbles that he’d missed. That he didn’t answer.

Goddamn it, Cole.

He typed out a reply.

I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you guys. I have a lot to say. Hopefully I see you soon.

He thought about it. But it was stupid.

Hangman deleted the text.

He looked up to find Matt watching him with his deep brown eyes.

Unfortunately, now, Matt’s eyes reminded him of someone else’s, too.

[hangmatts]

matt has two boyfriends, which means they both need to hold his hands in public.

[ hangmatt/jack drabble | read on AO3 ]

—

The Elite all decided to go shopping at the mall once they finished their segments on Dynamite. Hangman was back with them and they wanted to celebrate. Matt wanted to buy him new stuff then take him out to dinner. He figured everyone should tag along so they can discuss their plans for the group.

Nick was driving, Okada next to him in the passenger seat. Hangman, Matt, and Jack were in the backseat. Matt was sitting in between both of them. He was a bit squished but he didn’t mind. He was just happy to have Hangman back.

Once Nick parked, they all exited the vehicle. Nick grabbed Okada’s hand, pulling him towards the entrance. Adam and Jack started walking behind. Matt stayed put. Nobody noticed until he spoke up.

“Ahem!” He loudly proclaimed.

Adam and Jack stopped to turn around. Adam tilted his head, a confused expression on his face. Matt held his hand out. Adam immediately got the signal. He walked back over, taking Matt’s hand into his own. Matt stayed put.

“Jack?” Matt asked, holding out his other hand.

“You want me to hold your hand?” Jack walked over to Matt, hesitantly taking Matt’s hand into his own.

“Duh. How else is everyone gonna know you’re mine?”

Adam laughed and pulled Matt towards the mall. Jack felt the blush creep up on his cheeks. He tried staying behind Matt so nobody noticed. That plan quickly failed.

“Aww. Baby, look! I made Jack blush!” Matt proudly said to Adam.

Adam looked back and laughed. Jack’s face was 10 times more red than it first was.

“Y’all are adorable.” Adam said, looking at Jack

“Thanks?” Jack responded awkwardly.

Adam turned back to Matt.

“We’re gonna have so much fun with him, aren’t we?” He asked.

Matt smiled and nodded in response. Jack stood there confused until Matt began pulling him into the mall.

[miserablecreachur]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: All Elite Wrestling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ibushi Kota/Kenny Omega/"Hangman" Adam Page Characters: Ibushi Kota, Kenny Omega, "Hangman" Adam Page Additional Tags: Kayfabe RPF, Hotel Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Threesome - M/M/M Summary:

It was then that Kenny came to sit down across from them, holding a phone that Adam could only assume was Kota’s as the case wasn’t his or Kenny’s… And Kota’s hand landed on his knee, fingers lightly clutching at the inside of his thigh. Almost immediately, Adam felt his head swimming. He had thought of this, or rather moments that could have been this, since his days in New Japan. His eyes stayed locked on Kota’s, and after a moment he realized that Kenny was speaking.

“- with you.”

“Sorry.” With some effort, Adam would drag his eyes from Kota’s face to Kenny’s, shaking his head lightly in hopes of clearing it. “I uh, missed that.”

Kenny was grinning, and he would hold up the phone, tilting it onto its side in his hands. “Ibutan wants a picture with you.”