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of-twilight-and-moonshadow · 2 years ago

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Worried - Best Friends/Orange Cassidy x Emery

Part of my Dark Angel of the Bullet Club series

I wasn't planning on this being a thing, but it's kinda cute. We'll see where it goes.

I allude to the conversation between Yuta and Emery from this fic here during this one.

Word Count: 4,706

Tag List: @blxxckheart @katries @summertimefun1982

(divider by)

Emery stood backstage, leaning on one of the walls as she subconsciously chewed on her lip. With everything going on between BCC and her Elite boys—and things happening with other friends of hers—she was stressing badly. The worst was between Blackpool and Elite, though, and everything considered, Emery needed a distraction. Her mind went to another group she was close to—or rather had been close to.

Best Friends.

While the thought brought a smile to her face, it also pained her. Running around with the Best Friends is where she met Yuta. And now? Yuta was almost a complete stranger to her. She didn’t recognize him, the person he had become since joining BCC.

Shaking her head, Emery pushed herself off the wall and made her way through the backstage area before she came upon the room she was searching for. As she swallowed the lump in her throat, Emery gently knocked on the door, unsure of how her presence would be taken.

“Come in,” Trent’s voice rang out. Slowly, she pushed the door open and slid into the room, and left it ajar behind her. Instantly, all three guys had their eyes on her.

Trent narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out her intentions.

Chuck sitting there, surprised that she was even in the room with them.

And Orange. As stoic as ever, not even his eyes giving away his emotions. His signature sunglasses were resting on his leg as he leaned back in one of the folding chairs with his arm slung over the back.

“…Hey guys…”

“What are you doing here, Emery?” Trent questioned, his voice low and dark.

“I’ve seen what’s been going on… between you guys and House of Black,” Emery told them, looking at each as she spoke, “I’m worried about you guys. Elite has had their fair share of run-ins with the House, I know how dangerous they can be…”

“We’ve seen,” Chuck said, giving a single nod.

“We’ll be fine,” Trent bit out, “I’m not worried. We’ve faced tougher.”

“Toughness isn’t what I’m talking about,” Emery frowned, her eyebrows knitting together, “House of Black is tough, yes. But they’re cold and calculating, and that’s what makes them most dangerous. I’m worried that—”

“It’s a bit late to be worried about us, don’t you think?” Trent interrupted coldly.

“Trent, dude.”

“What?” Trent asked, looking at Chuck, “She all but stopped talking to us months ago and acted like we didn’t exist. Now her boys are getting their asses kicked, and suddenly she comes to us, worrying about us?”

“Things just got busy—I still care—”

“Just save it, all right?” Trent told her, “Besides. It’s three on three, us versus the House. We’ll be just fine without you.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and the silence stretched for what seemed like eternity as Emery let his words sink in. Chuck looked like he wanted to say something to ease the mood but kept quiet after a look from Trent. Orange sat there, just wordlessly staring at Emery as everyone waited for her next move.

“Just fine, huh?” she quoted Trent, her eyes narrowing at him; the guys could all tell she was hurt just from how she stood, “You know what? Fine. Three on three, sure. Until Julia Hart gets involved, and none of you want to lift a finger against her.”

Emery looked around the empty room for effect as she added, “Too bad Statlander’s still out.”

Looking back at Trent, she scoffed, “Whatever. Fine. You guys go out there and get your asses handed to you. Don’t say I never tried.”

Without a further glance at Chuck or Orange, Emery spun around, yanked the door open, letting it slam against the wall behind it, and disappeared down the hall.

A part of her was angry—but more so, she was hurt by Trent’s words and the fact that neither Chuck nor Orange had stood up for her. Back in the room, Chuck looked over at Trent, holding his arms out wide, silently asking him ‘What the fuck?’ as Orange picked up his glasses and put them over his eyes.

“Not cool.”

-time jump-

Just two nights later, on Rampage, Emery watched from a monitor backstage as Orange rushed out onto the stage and tried delivering his signature Orange Punch to an unsuspecting Buddy Matthews.

However, Buddy calculated it somehow, maneuvering his Trios belt to block the attack, causing Orange’s already injured wrist to smack right into it. Her gut twisted, and she felt sick to her stomach as she watched Cassidy writhe in pain and officials rush to keep the two separated. Buddy just stared at Orange, a small smirk on his face as he knew the All-Atlantic champion was injured. One of the officials helped him up, careful of his wrist, and escorted him backstage, and the camera zoomed in on Buddy, who just watched as Orange disappeared from his sight, that smile on his face falling flat as the wheels in his head began turning.

She hated to think about it, but she was right. House of Black were calculated, organized, and methodical, which made them more dangerous than your typical faction – and Best Friends were severely underestimating them. Biting the corner of her lower lip, Emery quietly stepped back from the screen and made her way through the halls. Despite Trent’s harsh words the other day, she still cared about them. Some more than others, but that was beside the point.

Emery wanted to know how bad Orange’s condition was. She needed to know.

Luckily when she approached the medical room, there was no sign of the Best Friends. While she did find it odd that Chuck and Trent weren’t anywhere to be seen, she was relieved as well. Stopping just before the door, Emery listened as someone asked the doctor if Orange would be able to defend his title or not. Taking a risk, she slowly leaned forward and peered around the door frame, past the camera guy. The winces of pain were very noticeable from Orange as the doctor worked carefully, and as he was about to answer the question, Cassidy waved him off. He looked to the camera with a frown on his face and with his signature glasses nowhere to be seen, his brown eyes narrowed in determination.

Emery listened as he admitted that his wrist was screwed up but claimed Buddy had taken the easy way out by blocking him twice now. First with his mask and now the belt. Orange will face him on Dynamite, injured or not.

The cameraman and interviewer left, and Emery watched in silence as Orange was left alone, wincing as he tried bending his wrist some. She hated seeing him in pain—with all her friends, she was that way. With Cassidy, though, she felt close to him. They had become good friends since the start of All Elite Wrestling, hanging out on occasion. When Kenny had been out with his injuries and surgeries, Emery had gotten closer with all the Best Friends- but Orange made her feel calm. He helped her relax—and weirdly enough, he was funny and had his own charm.

She saw Orange tense up and slowly looked in her direction, seeing her peering around the door at him. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they just stared at each other before she quickly darted back, not saying anything to him. He gave a sigh, looking down at the ground as his hand tensed. The pain returned, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut again and breathe deeply.

They should have listened to her warning.

-time jump-

Five days had passed, and now it was time for Orange’s match against Buddy for his All-Atlantic championship. He stood near the go-position with Trent and Chuck, waiting for his turn to go out, gently moving his fingers. The pain had subsided, but only just barely—and Orange knew that any wrong move out there could be damaging.

“I don’t know, Cass, I don’t think she’s coming,” Chuck frowned, looking at the area surrounding them before glancing back down at his friend. Orange had told Chuck and Trent about Emery standing outside medical on Friday, and with their agreement, he sent her a text over the weekend.

“Watch my six?”

He knew she had seen the message, as it was marked as read, but she hadn’t replied to it and had not sought them out.

Orange kept his gaze on the floor, a calming feeling coursing through his body, one had hadn’t felt for a while – but the nervous feeling was also there.

“She will…” he muttered confidently, although a part of him was uncertain.

She had to be.

Trent frowned, his hands in the pockets of his tracksuit, “I don’t know, man. She ain’t here yet, and we haven’t heard from her.”

As they stood there waiting for Orange’s match, Emery slowly made her way through the building. Despite any hostility or negative feelings, despite the exchange she had with Trent, she still cared. What didn’t help was Yuta’s cutting words that kept ringing through her mind.

“You and the rest of the Elite and the VIPs think you deserve everything around here.”

“The Elite walk these halls like they’re Gods or something, but they’re not. Their pompous, ignorant assholes—”

“Where one goes—the others follow. Just look at you... Ringside with the Bucks… Kenny. Ringside for Page--- well, not recently. Right? No, no—because Kenny ousted him from the group, so suddenly, all of you act like he doesn’t exist. When was the last time you were ringside for him?! When was the last time you traveled with him?”

Was he right? Emery had been so focused on her Elite boys – had she blindly pushed others to the side?

Trent seemed to think so, according to his words from last week.

That wasn’t what she wanted, though. Emery didn’t want to lose her friends—and now, as she realized just how important Hangman was to her, she also realized how valuable other friends were to her. She was determined not to lose anyone else. Up ahead, she saw Best Friends standing near crates, waiting for Orange’s music to hit as Buddy and Julia slowly made their way to the ring.

Emery cautiously approached, coming to a stop when Trent looked over at her. Chuck followed his line of sight, staring at her as he gently nudged Orange’s arm. He slowly looked up from the floor, his brown eyes boring into her own.

“H-hey…” she said, looking directly at Cassidy. They could tell she was uncertain—uncertain about being there, about where they all stood, and about if they wanted her there or not.

“What are you doing here?” Trent asked her, crossing his arms across his chest as he stared at her, “Why now? You haven’t been around for… how long now?”

“A few weeks back… someone made me painfully aware of how I’ve…” Emery started, her words uncertain as she tried to find the correct ones, “… How I’ve unfairly neglected people I care about. I already lost Hangman due to it… I don’t want to lose you guys too… I just hope I’m not too late…”

“Yeah- don’t you have other things to worry about right now?” Trent questioned, raising an eyebrow, “Something to do with that lost friend. Your Elite boys, too.”

Emery pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing briefly as she stared at Trent. Enough was enough.

“Yeah. A problem that includes a feral Yuta—which I should be blaming you for,” she said, glaring at Trent, before taking a breath and calming down, “I’m trying… to get my mind off everything that’s going on… Come on, guys… I thought…. I thought we were friends?”

As she said the words, her mind flashed back to her conversation with Yuta, her heart tightening in pain.

“You thought wrong.”

Chuck exchanged a look with Trent and Orange before speaking up, his head slightly shaking, “Nah, not friends.”

It became difficult to swallow, her airway feeling as though it was constricting, and her heart felt as if it had shattered. Tears began to build in the corners of her eyes, and in a desperate bid to keep them from falling, Emery bit her tongue as hard as she could as her gaze dropped to the floor.

All three of them felt terrible. Chuck gestured with his head, encouraging Trent to do something; before Emery had a chance to walk away, he spoke up—his voice softer now, the harshness to it was gone.

“We’re best friends.”

Emery’s head snapped up, her eyes wide as she looked at them. Trent and Chuck were smiling at her, and when her eyes met Orange’s, he even gave her a small smile of his own. Wordlessly, Chuck took a few steps towards her and reached out, cupping her face in his hands as he wiped away the build-up of tears in the corners of her eyes. Afterward, the tall Kentucky man-child wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

“You’ve always got us,” Trent told her as Chuck let her go, reaching out and giving her a hug of his own. When they parted, Orange walked up to her and gently placed a pair of sunglasses on her head, sliding them towards her until they rested on the bridge of her nose. Slowly, his head lowered until it rested against her own, both closing their eyes to just take in the moment. Cassidy’s music began to play, bringing them out of their own little world as he stepped back to grab his backpack that held the title.

“Bring it in, guys,” smirked Trent as he put his hand down in the middle of the group. Chuck quickly followed suit, placing his down on top of Trent’s, and Orange used his shoulder to support the bag, placing his good hand down on the very top. His hand was face up, open palmed, as the three looked at Emery. With a smile, she placed her left hand directly onto Orange’s, and he gave it a small squeeze before Trent called, ‘Break!’ and then headed to the stairs.

Orange followed Trent and Chuck out onto the stage, and after a brief pause, Emery took a deep breath and walked out behind him. As soon as the crowd saw her, their cheers got louder. Chuck and Trent unlocked their hands before grabbing one of her hands each and extending the chain, causing her to laugh. With his available hand, Trent patted Orange on the back in encouragement as Chuck gently squeezed Orange’s shoulder. As Cassidy began walking down the ramp, they let go of her, and Emery casually followed along behind him, but Best Friends stayed on the stage before disappearing to the back. Spotting a mini version of himself, Orange carefully sat down on the ramp and bumped hands with him before continuing to the ring.

Emery glanced across at Julia and Buddy, shivers running down her spine. She had a bad feeling about this – but she was going to support Orange through the entire thing. He was determined to do the match, to be a fighting champion—injured or not. As Orange flung his bag into the ring and rolled in after it, Emery shook her head in amusement, opting to stay outside on the floor as Cassidy held the belt up for the audience. The referee, Bryce, took the championship from Orange, holding it up briefly before handing it off to the timekeeper as Orange took off his jacket, shirt, and glasses. Each one he would hold over the top rope and drop into the waiting arms of Emery, who watched him with a smile, shaking her head. As he lazily slid on his black elbow pad, Emery quickly folded his clothing before setting it down on the timekeeper’s table and turning her attention back to the ring.

At the very least, in her opinion, with Bryce being the official for the match Emery knew that Orange was in good hands. Bryce was close with Best Friends, Orange in particular, and wouldn’t let anything happen to him if he could help it. The bell sounded, signaling the beginning of the match, but neither individual moved from their spot.

Across the ring, Buddy stared at Orange, waiting patiently as he crouched in the corner. Julia stood near him on the outside, her face void of all expression. Emery watched as Orange crouched down against the turnbuckles, his arms supporting him on the middle ropes.

“What are you doing?” Emery questioned him softly, watching as he brought his left leg up across his right knee and propped his left elbow on the middle rope, resting his chin against it with a small smirk on his face.

Was he seriously trying to mock Matthews? Emery sighed, gnawing on her bottom lip in worry. As amusing as it was, it was still not the best idea.

Eventually, Buddy stood up from his corner, his eyes never once leaving Orange, as he followed suit and stood up. Slowly, they both walked to the center of the ring, staring at each other. Emery watched closely, her breath caught in her throat, as Orange lifted his arms up and aimed to put his hands in his pockets. Buddy wasn’t having it, however, grabbing both of Orange’s hands and tossing him into the corner of the ring.

Emery watched carefully as Buddy began to walk towards Orange before her eyes flickered to Julia on the opposite side. As long as Julia didn’t get involved, Emery wouldn’t – that was her stance. Quick movement caught her attention, and she looked back to the guys as Buddy went flying through the ropes, landing rather hard on the floor. She noticed he placed a hand to his jaw, holding it for a moment as Orange ran at the ropes, turning his back on Buddy to hit the other side for momentum. Buddy quickly slid into the ring, aiming to catch Orange unaware, but Cassidy quickly turned around and held his hands out in a ‘stop’ gesture as Buddy came to a halt in front of him. The House of Black member was still lying on the ring, his arms holding up his body as he watched in annoyance as Orange lifted his hands and put them in his pockets. In frustration, Buddy hopped up and continued the match.

The match continued, and the longer it did, the more worried Emery got for Orange’s safety. He sent Buddy to the outside of the ring once again, this time following him with a dive through the ropes. As Orange stands up, though, Emery sees him holding his wrist, pain written across his face causing her heart to sink. Orange seemingly shook it off, working through it as he got Buddy back into the ring and hits him with a thunderous Orange Punch. Buddy went down—but so did Orange. Emery’s eyes widened in worry as Orange instantly cried out in agony, rolling around on the matt, clutching his injured wrist. Slowly, he crawled over to the side of the ring where Doc Sampson and Emery stood and painfully clawed at the bandage until he finally tore it off his hand. As the doctor looked at it, Emery reached out and gently ran a hand through Orange’s hair, trying to soothe him as best she could. For now, Buddy was forgotten as Doc examined the damage to Orange’s wrist. He could barely clench his hand at all, the pain almost too much as his hand shook from even the smallest of movements.

Emery was about to ask Doc a question before loud footfalls neared them, and Buddy’s foot came out of nowhere, stomping on Orange’s hand. He screamed out in pain at the rough contact, rolling away quickly as Bryce backed Buddy away from him. Rolling under the bottom rope, Orange sat on the edge of the ring, delicately holding his injured wrist as Emery rushed around the ring to him. She wanted to reach out and hold his hand but didn’t want to cause him any more agony.

“Are you sure you want to keep in this match?” She questioned him, looking at him with a pained expression. He looked up from his hand, grimacing as he nodded to her.

“You don’t have to do this, Cass. You could seriously damage yourself if—” She couldn’t finish her sentence as Buddy stalked over and grabbed Orange, dragging him into the ring. Every time he went to attack, it was focused on the wrist; Buddy was hellbent on inflicting as much pain on Orange as he could—and Julia stood nearby, smiling at the damage being done. Orange’s face got more and more red the longer the match went on; the pain he was in was evident in his eyes. But he refused to give up.

Not when he’s finally got Emery back in his corner.

Orange gets the upper hand once more, bashing Buddy’s head into the turnbuckles a few times, but gets hit with a superkick—only to retaliate with a superkick of his own. They move to the outside of the ring, standing on the apron as Emery watched on from the side, yelling out words of encouragement each time he’d get going and trying to get the audience on his side. She watched as Orange set Buddy up for a DDT, wincing as Buddy avoided it, hitting Orange directly in the jaw with a high knee. Out of nowhere, Orange hit him with a Beach Break, and both fell to the floor, catching their breath. Emery watches closely as Julia walks closer and closer to them before getting too close to Orange for her liking. Quickly, Emery rounded the ring, walking right up to the guys and staring down Julia.

“Back. Off,” Emery warned her, voice low, as she narrowed her eyes. Bryce was administering the ten count, closely watching all four individuals to ensure neither lady got involved in the match. Julia stared at Emery wordlessly, her face void of emotion once again, eventually slowly backing away from the guys. Emery mirrored it, backing up a few steps but keeping her eyes locked on Julia.

By the time the referee yelled ‘9,’ both guys finally slid back into the ring and continued the match. Emery returned to her side of the ring, watching closely and noticing that Orange could barely put any weight or pressure on his injured wrist. He began to resort to forearms for his hits, and for a bit, they went back and forth, both using a forearm to attack their opponent. Eventually, Buddy got the upper hand once more, kicking Orange in the stomach and causing him to fall to his hands and knees. With a sick smile, Buddy jumped up and stomped on Orange’s hand, pressing his boot into the bones and flesh as much as he could before Bryce finally backed him off. Orange kneels up, holding his wrist as the pain flares through his body.

“Come on Orange… come on…” Emery whispered, leaning against the apron. Buddy began to mock Orange, using the weak kicks as a taunt against him, one foot and then the other, tapping it against Orange’s upper arms. A small sigh of relief followed by a slight smile graced her face as Emery saw Orange was starting to get mad; she knew that once he started, then he usually kicked it up a notch, and that could be exactly what he needed to do right now. As Buddy stepped back and went for the slow kick, Orange put his hands out in a ‘stop’ motion once again, causing Buddy to stop and narrow his eyes, watching him curiously.

Orange put his injured hand to the sky before lowering it and using his good hand to put it in the pocket of his loose jeans, grimacing in pain as he did so before adding his uninjured hand to the other pocket. Emery gave a soft smile at his antics as Orange gave Buddy a pained smirk of his own—only for Buddy to kick him harshly. As he went for another attack, Orange diverted it into an enormous DDT from the top rope. Buddy rolled to the outside of the ring to shake it off, but Orange quickly followed it with a torpe to the outside. He followed Buddy, climbing through the rope, and gave him a third DDT before pushing him into the ring and slowly climbing to the top rope, careful not to use his injured hand more than he had to. Diving off the top rope, Orange caught Buddy with a diving DDT and went for the cover.

“ONE!” Emery counted with the referee, “TWO! —” but Buddy kicked out at two, causing her to groan in annoyance.

“Come on, Orange, you got this!” Emery shouted to him, hoping to will him on, and saw Julia across the ring, calling out to Buddy with a worried look on her face.

Good. She should be worried.

Orange grimaced in pain as he grabbed his elbow pad, slipping it off and throwing it to the ground.

“Oh no…” Emery worried as she watched, knowing what was coming, “Orange… you really shouldn’t—”

Buddy evaded the Orange Punch, lifting him up only for Orange to roll him into a schoolboy but only got another two count. Shaking his hand as he stands up from the pin, Orange manages to pull a weak Orange Punch off, but again only gets a two count for his efforts.

Emery circled around to the side closest to Orange, reaching out her hand towards him with a sad look on her face. He was breathing heavily, grasping his wrist as the pain was getting worse and worse. He shot her a look, a smirk-like grimace to try to ease her worry before he stood up and turned his attention back to his opponent. Buddy was on his knees in the middle of the ring, and as Orange got closer, he taunted him, goading Cassidy into punching him—and he did. Or at least, he tried.

As Orange’s forearm got close enough to Buddy, he grabbed Orange’s wrist and twisted it as he stood up. Cassidy yelled out in pain the more Buddy twisted it to the side as he finally let go, lifting him up and delivering a knee to Orange’s jaw. Cassidy pushed Buddy away from him and demands him to hit him. As Buddy goes to, Orange falls flat to the mat; Buddy ran to the ropes to do a dive or kick of some kind, and Orange quickly hops up, but Buddy stops short, causing Cassidy to put on the brakes and falls back to the mat.

Emery watched in horror as Buddy hit the curb stomp on Orange, and went for the pin—but he kicked out at two. Buddy went for another move, but Orange countered it with Chuck’s patented move, the Mousetrap. As the ref counted, Emery held her breath, and time seemed to slow down.

One.

Two.

Three.

“YES!” Emery exclaimed, jumping up in excitement as she grabbed Orange’s bag, shoving the title and his shirt and jacket inside, slinging it over her shoulder before hurrying over to him. She placed herself under his arm, a smile on her face, and helped support him as they backed up the ramp a few feet. Emery was beyond worried about the status of his wrist but was happy for him getting the win. As she looked back at the ring, she saw Julia’s look of dismay and Buddy looking over his shoulder at them with a confused look on his face, not sure what the hell had just happened.

Emery smirked at them before turning around with Orange and walking up the ramp, and put them out of her mind as she focused on him. Sure, he was sweaty, grimacing in agony, and breathing heavily—but he was back in her life, and now? She wasn’t going to lose him again.

Any of them.

#aew #all elite wrestling #imagine #fanfiction #dark angel of the bullet club #OC #original female character #OC Emery #Orange Cassidy #Best Friends #Chuck Taylor #Trent Baretta #House of Black #Buddy Matthews #Julia Hart #Orange Cassidy x OC

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springgirlwaiting4fall · 2 years ago

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Wheeler Yuta Imagine:Jealousy

Idea and Request by: @sxmmarie

I’m sorry this took so long and full disclosure I wrote this on Day 5 of COVID Symptoms. And I really don’t love this, so I might eventually go back and fix this up.

Wheeler Yuta has had girlfriends before and while he held their hands and kissed them in public, he wasn’t too affectionate in public.

But than he met you.

It was like a switch went off inside of him, and he couldn’t stop until everyone knew you belonged with him.

His happy demeanor didn’t change. Wheeler was still kind, polite, funny and sincere to everyone he meet. He just made sure that everyone knew you were with him.

If you weren’t there, Wheeler couldn’t help himself your name would escape his lips. Then the explanation of who you were, how the two of you met, and how wonderful you were would follow.

He had hundred of photos of you on his phone and if it was someone non threatening like another person in a committed relationship or someone who wouldn’t be interested in you, he would show you off.

Of course any potential “threats” would never get access to any of his photos and in his conversation with them would always end with him referring to you as his.

When you were in public Wheeler made it clear to anybody that was looking could tell you two were an item. He would slow his pace down, so it was in rhythm with yours. His long arm curls around you waist, so he can pull you in as close as possible.

Wheeler loves the colder and rainy days, because you would toss on his jackets or hoodies out in public to keep warm.

In restaurants he sits on the same side of the table. At parties and when you visit him at work, he pulls you down on top of him, so your sitting on his lap.

At your work Wheeler makes sure everyone knows your taken. Whenever he’s home he stops by to take you out to lunch.

Of course the two of you can’t always be together though

When it’s getting too long in between those lunch dates, he makes sure flowers, chocolates, and adorable squishmallow are delivered and can be left on your desk.

He knows his career is still just getting starting and that wrestling is dangerous. Wheeler is careful with his money. But when he realized how much he cared about you he went out and got you a claddagh ring. He taught you to wear on your left hand ring finger with the heart facing inward, so everyone would know his heart was with you even when he couldn’t physically be with you.

Than there were of course times were Wheeler Yuta couldn’t help himself from getting jealous.

The first time it happened the two of you were just friends. Both at Chuck Taylors apartment who was having a party. Wheeler and you were sitting on the couch, playing video games. He had walked off to use the bathroom. When he came back Orange Cassidy was in his spot, making you laugh.

Insecurity hit him in a way he never felt before.. And very immaturely he forced himself in between you and OC. Took the controller out of Oranges hand and resumed playing like nothing had happened. Everyone was so surprised, that no one even mentioned it…Except for Trent who yelled out “aww Yuta has a crush!“

After the two of you started dating and Wheeler found you talking to anyone who he thought was better than himself or could take you away. He would casually walk up behind you and wrap both arms around you. His head resting on top of yours.

That usually worked but occasionally, his hands would lightly tickle your hip, distracting you from whoever you were talking about.

You were not free from the green eyed monster either. At his shows you would cheer louder than anyone else in the building, had custom Yuta’s T-shirts made, and was known for spotting any potential ring rats for a mile away.

If you saw him talking to someone you didn’t recognize you would be kind and introduce yourself, but you just couldn’t help but kiss Wheeler right under his ear, knowing that was his favorite spot.

Wheeler’s and your jealousy didn’t come out of anger or wanting to make others feel uncomfortable . They came from personal insecurities.

Luckily though one of the best parts of Wheeler and your relationship was your open communication. These bouts of jealousy were able to be discussed and be nipped out right away. You two were relationship goals.

#wheeler yuta #aew #aew fanfiction #aew imagine #jealousy

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dunkzillla · 2 years ago

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New Tricks for an Old Dog (7/10)

William Regal x Wheeler Yuta, Chuck Taylor x Wheeler Yuta

I think I’ve finally got the outline penned down for this, so the chapter count is my estimate that may change, not sure, so don’t be alarmed if it changes again. This is a smaller chapter but I hope you enjoy!

Title: New Tricks for an Old Dog

Pairings: William Regal/Wheeler Yuta, Chuck Taylor/Wheeler Yuta

Ratings/Warnings: Language, Eating Disorders/Disordered Eating.

Word Count: 2,478

Summary: Mr. Regal was right, Wheeler Yuta is wasting away.

Three months, five days, seventeen hours, thirty five minutes and a handful of seconds. The amount of time Wheeler’s been without Regal, and every single second he’s been more miserable than the last. It’s about as long as he was with him, and Wheeler thinks that it’s not fair that the time he had with him felt like the blink of an eye, while everyday without him feels like a long, laborious slog.

Wheeler’s life went to hell in a handbasket about halfway through the first month without Regal.

He already regretted it, knew that he would, but it was strictly because he missed the man that he wished he hadn’t done what he did. He knew he had to, the whole night at the gala he’d thought it over. If he couldn’t even bear to sleep with someone else, for money, for his job, then it had gone too far. He had to put a stop to it before it went any further. He had to leave, no matter how much it broke him when Regal was begging him not to, when he was telling Wheeler he loved him.

The first few weeks without Regal were hard, he missed the man more than words could ever say, and he felt the loss of going to see him every single night. He decided to quit selling himself on the street. He’d learned his lesson with Regal — that it was far too easy to fall into something he shouldn’t, that he was jeopardising his relationship with his boyfriend for money that he could make elsewhere.

The weeks were hard but he got through them. He told Chuck that he’d been let go at the gas station as cover for not being missing every night, and started looking for a better alternative. He made enough money that last week with Regal to be able to not worry about only having one job for a little while. They had groceries in the fridge, the rent had been paid for the month and he’d chipped away at the debt enough to breathe for a moment. He and Chuck did the date night they’d talked about, nothing fancy or expensive, just a stroll around the park, dinner at a cheap, greasy diner, and then home, where Chuck made love to him half a dozen times.

Despite what Wheeler told himself, the happiness he felt in those moments were nothing compared to the happiness he felt when he was with Regal, and it had nothing to do with the money. The way Wheeler felt when Chuck kissed him was nothing compared to the way he felt when Regal did it, and it only became more apparent the longer he spent away from Regal.

It was hard without him, it was horrible and there were some nights where Wheeler lay in bed looking at Chuck’s hand thrown over his waist and wished that it wasn’t so toned, that the skin was slightly wrinkled, that the arm hair wasn’t dark but slightly greying. But Wheeler had made his choice. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t leave Chuck. Not when he’d been cheating on him behind his back. Chuck didn’t deserve that. And he loved Chuck, he loves him.

Things fell apart when, halfway through the first month without Regal, a burst pipe in the floor above them flooded their apartment. Wheeler came back from his shift at Starbucks one evening to find total chaos on not only their floor, but in their apartment. It was a rare day that Chuck wasn’t glued to the PlayStation, instead out with Trent, helping him move his old couch out of his place and the new one in. Their entire place is filled with water, the TV, Chuck’s gaming setup, the couch, the fridge freezer, everything touching the floor is completely ruined, fried and water damaged. Trent was there, salvaging what he could while Chuck seethed on hold to maintenance.

The apartment building owners take care of the major damage, the hole in the ceiling, the damp walls and the sodden floor, and their landlord gets an insurance payout. They don’t see a cent of that payout, though, the landlord using it instead to pay off some of what Wheeler and Chuck owe him.

They’re left with an apartment that has nothing but water damaged furnishings and no working fridge, freezer or TV.

They argue about what little money they have should be spent on. Wheeler wanted to buy a cheap fridge from craigslist, maybe even find a free one. They get Trent’s old couch, which thankfully hadn’t been sold at Goodwill by the time they went back to get it, and Wheeler spent hours scrubbing at the rest of their furniture, the coffee table, the bed, the TV stand and nightstands to try and get the watermark from being so visible.

Chuck wanted to spend the money on a new set up. He can’t make money without a TV or a PlayStation, he said, it’s the most important thing.

That was the first time Wheeler lost it with him. He screamed at him, telling him to just get a job and pay for the damn thing himself.

By the time Wheeler had come home from Starbucks, Chuck had a new TV and PlayStation, blaring loudly as he screamed at Trent and Orange over the new headset.

It was like a kick to the gut. He hadn’t had to check their bank account to know that the last of their money was gone, blown on the fancy set up while their fridge sits not working, mouldy food still inside. That night, Wheeler had gone to bed and cried himself to sleep, the same way he did the night he left Regal. He cried and he cried and he cried, and Chuck didn’t hear him over the noise of the TV. He thinks about Regal’s words, he won’t look after you. He was right. And maybe Wheeler had always known he was right, but he couldn’t leave Chuck. He loved Chuck. He did. He does.

The next night, Wheeler came back from Starbucks, changed his clothes and then went back out again. He’d been thinking about going back to the street like before, it was quick, pretty easy money, and it would be able to let them get a new fridge. Daniel comes into Starbucks to see him most days, the first time to tell him about how Regal broke down the night he left, and then subsequently to check how he was doing, to make sure he was eating (he’s not, he can’t stomach anything) and he told him that no one had taken his place, he could still come back.

He’d almost given up hope and gone back, when he stumbled across a Chinese restaurant with a sign on the window, asking for a dishwasher.

Wheeler gets the job within five minutes of being in there, and he starts right away. It’s hard work, the kitchen is hot and the cooks shout at him to hurry up in a language he doesn’t speak, but it’s pretty good money and there’s no shortage of hours. The restaurant opens from five till midnight, and Wheeler starts on the dot and finishes around one or two in the morning, every single night other than Tuesdays, when the restaurant is closed.

So Wheeler starts a new routine. He works as much as he can at Starbucks during the day, and then the restaurant at night, sometimes going directly from Starbucks to the restaurant, barely even having time to go to the toilet before his shift starts.

It’s hard but it works. He makes enough by month two to get a second hand fridge on Craigslist, the thing is dented to hell but it works and that’s all that matters.

When he pays the rent that month, barely managing to scrape together the full amount, the landlord laughs at him and asks him why someone sent him a cheque to clear Wheeler’s debt. He knows right away that it’s Regal. Wheeler accepted the payment for the gala and then blocked his access to sending money to his bank account, as well as his number, and he keeps the black AMEX card hidden away in his wallet, where he’ll never, ever touch it. Regal was still trying to take care of him, even though Wheeler told him not to.

It doesn’t make a difference though, because the landlord tells Wheeler that he’s in debt too, that it’s just enough to put himself in the black out of the red. He takes Regal’s money for himself, and it doesn’t make a blind bit of difference to Wheeler’s balance. He pays the rent and cries himself to sleep again, too embarrassed to call Regal and ask for help, and he can’t tell Chuck, who will find out everything.

Three months on from leaving the most wonderful man in the world, Wheeler feels like there won’t be any sunlight ever again. Without Regal there is no light, and it’s his fault there is no Regal.

He starts resenting Chuck. Wheeler always thought that if he really asked Chuck to get a job, he would. That this was him just trying to reach his dreams and Wheeler supporting him, but it’s not. He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know if Chuck is truly blind to the situation they’re really in, or whether he just refuses to acknowledge it. Because he used the last of their money for a TV and a PlayStation, and when Wheeler told him he got another job at the restaurant all he said was that’s great news, babe, like it was normal for him to have to go out and get a second job just to maybe be able to pay all the bills this month. Like he was okay with Wheeler working himself to the bone.

He hears Chuck call Orange babe over the PlayStation headset one night, and he feels all his insides shrivel up to dust. Wheeler left Regal because he knew what he was doing was wrong, because he felt like he should have been loyal to Chuck from the start and should never have slept with anyone else, especially for money. And maybe it was wrong, but the way he felt about Regal. That was never wrong. It shouldn’t have ever been wrong. Regal wasn’t wrong. Chuck didn’t appreciate him, he did nothing to take care of him, and he was wasting away, while Chuck was having the time of his life, calling his best friend pet names usually reserved for Wheeler.

Wheeler doesn’t eat much these days, about as much as he did before he met Regal. He has crackers or dry toast in the morning with a lemon water if he has time before starting work, eats whatever sandwich is going out of date for his lunch break, and then a handful of noodles if there’s any left over at the restaurant, though there mostly never is. He works nearly eighteen hour days six days a week and he’s exhausted. He’s exhausted, he’s cold, he’s tired. He’s hungry but his stomach twists painfully anytime he thinks about food, and his whole body hurts.

They have a working fridge now, but little money for groceries. With Chuck’s updated set up he uses more electricity than he ever did before, and Wheeler makes nowhere near as much as he did when he was out working the street, so he can’t afford as much as he used to. Not that Chuck ever offers to cook for him, he’s often still gaming when Wheeler gets in from the restaurant, his own dinner — cup noodles, microwave burgers, bags of chips — strewn on the coffee table in front of him. Wheeler usually leaves him where he is, barely even responding to his hey babe, how was work? Questions, just trudging himself to bed, too tired to do much else. Chuck doesn’t even seem to notice Wheeler’s resentment. Lately Wheeler’s wondered whether there was any sign he was ever cheating on Chuck, was he just good at hiding it or did Chuck not pay enough attention to him to even realise? If he notices that Wheeler’s lost weight again he doesn’t comment on it, nor does he even try to stop himself from demolishing half of their cupboard stuck just after Wheeler has bought it.

He starts to weaken, and he tries to ignore it. The pots get heavier, somehow, taking him more and more energy to haul them up into the sink so he can scrub them clean. It takes him longer, and they shout at him more, but he can’t go any quicker. The hauling of the pots winds him, and by the end of the night he’s walking home with that painful feeling in his chest, like he’s been running a marathon and his lungs and limbs are burning. Some nights he gets into the apartment and it takes all of his strength to make it to the bedroom without collapsing. His vision often blurs and his head swims.

Wheeler looks at himself in the mirror when he wakes up and when he goes to bed. There are dark circles underneath his eyes and his skin is pale and pasty. His hair is dull and breaking. His hands are boney and bruised from knocking them against the pots and pans. His pants hang loose around his hips and his shirts gape at the neckline. He misses Regal more than he’s ever missed anyone in his whole life. It brings him to tears, staring at himself, what’s left of him, thinking about how Regal used to run his fingers through his hair and over his face and tell him he was beautiful. Looking at himself these days, Wheeler knows he never deserved a man as wonderful as Regal saying those things to him. People like Wheeler didn’t deserve people like him.

It’s a busy morning in Starbucks, and Wheelers been working for a few hours already, another six still to go, and he’s standing at the milk steamer, the jug held under the nozzle as it jitters and steams away.

In the distance, Wheeler swears he hears that deep, smooth British accent. He whips his head around, eyes frantically searching for the tall handsome man.

His eyes are unfocused, blurry. He can’t make anyone out. He blinks furiously as the room spins and people start turning into two. The milk steamer screeches in his ears, and there’s someone calling his name, but he can’t move. Wheeler’s whole body is tingling, and his hand is burning.

There’s a whooshing sound, like a rush of wind right next to his ear, and then the metal counter is cracking against the side of his face as his body crashes to the floor.

All Wheeler sees is black.

#writing #william regal x wheeler yuta #chuck taylor x wheeler yuta #wheeler yuta #william regal #regal #chuck taylor #blackpool combat club

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valkyrie-night-103 · 2 years ago

Note

Would love to hear more about something clever about wine, clementines, and the end of the world as we know it

I’m sorry this took so long!! I had to write most of this up, as it was largely abstract in my head. Yet again, I have more to say on this AU, so if you’re interested about what happened next, don’t be afraid to send an ask!

Directly follows on from the last instalment! I’ll tag it #wine and clementines so it’s easy to find. This probably won’t make much sense without context.

Same content warnings as the first part of this au applies.

While his guest clears his plate, Chuck opens a bottle of wine from the cellar. It’s good shit, it’s not like he has people over very often.

When he pours a glass for Orange and passes it over, a toothy grin is sent his way as he accepts it. Chuck can’t help his smile in return. He looks at the floor, can feel the heat in his face. From the wine, of course.

“You’ve got a good setup here.” Orange remarks. “Damn impressive for one guy.”

“Yeah.” He says, not giving anything away.

“Got a story?”

“Have you?” Chuck retorts, curt and sharp. Orange seems to mull that over, shrugging slightly as if to say that’s a fair enough question. Chuck is feeding him, so he supposes he owes him a story.

“I thought I’d gotten through the worst of it after the outbreak. I got into the QZ, got an apartment. It was okay for a while, but then someone got into the city, infected. It spread, mass hysteria ensued, the works. Then word got out amongst the Fireflies- rebels, essentially- that they were going to nuke the city to contain it.”

“Fuck.” Chuck sighed. He’d heard tales on the radio, back when Trent was still around to help him work it. They’d had people come through bearing stories of total devastation, so hungry that they would gladly trade guns, drugs, and alcohol for a meagre amount of food that would barely last 2 days. Even so, Trent had kept them outside of the fence. Desperate people do desperate things.

“I knew this girl, Kris, she was a firefly. We were close, I let her little brother crash on my couch when he was in hiding. I wasn’t considered suspicious, so he was safe with me. They took me with them.”

He doesn’t actually ask what happened, but his expression probably says it for him.

“We made it out before things went kaboom. We were probably about 10 miles away. We still felt it, the ground shook and everything. Must have stirred something, ‘cause we’re running for our lives from a clicker and then there’s five of them. Kris fell, and I begged her not to give up, to get back up, but it was too late. Yuta never forgave me, and when we got jumped by raiders a while later, he joined up with them and left me alone.”

“Shit.” He sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah. It is pretty shit.” Orange agrees. “So, now I’ve given you mine, you got a story?”

“Is the food not good enough?” He asks, smile wry. “I gotta talk to you too?”

“Not if you don’t wanna.” Orange replies. He’s smiling again, and it makes Chuck feel a little better.

“If you must know, my best friend was a paranoid nutcase. When everyone left for the QZs, he stayed put and I couldn’t just leave him behind, so I stayed. We built reinforced fences, set up vegetable gardens. He set up traps, and would check them. Blew himself up a year after the outbreak.”

“You’ve been on your own for two years?” Orange asks, putting down his cutlery.

“Yeah.” He says, swallowing thickly. He’s never actually stopped to think about how long he’s been alone. “Yeah, basically.”

“How have you not gone crazy?”

“Maybe I have, and I’m just waiting for you to get comfortable. Maybe I put something in the food or the wine, and I’m waiting for it to set in.” Orange looks at the dregs left in the wine glass, the gravy remaining on the plate, looking genuinely concerned. He’s trying to be subtle, but he’s not great at it.

Chuck holds the beat for a few moments, waiting for the tension to climb high enough, before cracking a smile. “Or maybe I’m just a loner with a sick sense of humour who likes seeing people squirm.”

“You ass! You can’t fuck with people like that!” Orange says as he laughs, long and loud with a slight honking quality, like an amused goose. The mental image of a goose in a denim jacket and mirrored sunglasses is so funny to him that he joins Orange in his laughter. It’s both at him and with him, and he knows Orange can see as much.

“You should have seen your face-“ he manages through his laughter.

“Seriously! You can’t do that, man!” Orange repeats, still indignant but not quite pissed off, and for some reason it just cracks him up.

“Well, I just did, so-“

“You are so annoying.” Orange says. The words are mean but his tone is warm, like he’s known Chuck for years. It makes him miss Trent, a tugging in his chest. He holds his breath until it goes away.

“I don’t mean to push my luck, but could I borrow some clothes?”

“Sure, I’ll put some out for you. I’ve got running water, so you can take a shower if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit. Thank you.” He says, and gives another genuine smile that makes Chuck feel like he’s got some snow down the back of his neck, startled and shivery.

“Eh.” He waves a hand dismissively, before rising to his feet and taking the plates and glasses into the kitchen. He can’t be in the room for another moment because he knows that if he does, he’ll tell Orange how he really feels.

Chuck wants him to stay.

#wine and clementines #aew #all elite wrestling #wrestling #aew ask game #fic ask game #chuck taylor #sexy chuckie t #trent beretta #kris statlander #orange cassidy

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unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin · 3 years ago

Note

Hi!

I was wondering if you could do a MJFxFem!reader where the reader is also a AEW star and basically (you can decide the reason) but theh get into a aguement and he cuts a promo simulator to the one he did about CM punk basically confessing. The reader has dq match later evening and she is to confused by MJFs promo she loses and gets hurt badly, if you do it I'll let you decide what happens next.

You Set Me Straight

Taglist: @fiskers7136 @kcloveswrestling @peachmango-kombucha @bellalutionn

Ask tagging @thebestintheworld so you can avoid it😉

Warnings: angst if you squint.

You knew you couldn’t keep it up forever. Word was Max had been looking for you all day, and you were doing everything in your power to avoid your best friend.

No one really understood why you were so close. You had grown up living right next to each other and had become best friends quickly, bonding over your love for pro wrestling. The only problem was that over time your feelings for Max had become something more, and Max found his type was whatever girl he found at the local bar. The one time you had asked him if he would ever want a normal relationship he had told you he preferred the one night stands, that he never saw them again which was perfect.

When you had finally got to your hotel room last night, you had found a girl picking her clothes up and the sound of Max in the shower. You had decided to spend the night in Kris’s room, only send Max a single text.

You were in the middle of stretching when the door slammed open, making you jump in surprise. The man responsible was the one and only salt of the earth. “Jesus fuck Max. Ever heard of nocking?” You had your hand over your chest as you tried to slow your heart rate.

“Why the hell are you ignoring me?” You were slightly taken back by how straightforward he was being. You had alway been the straightforward one.

“Who said I was ignoring you?”

“You haven’t answered any of my messages, haven’t called me back, and I haven’t seen you once all day.” He listed the things off, crossing his arms which caused the fabric of his shirt to be pulled right over his shoulders.

“I’ve got my own shit going on Max. I have my match against Penelope tonight, and I need to be focused.” You argued.

“So you blew me off last night for that?”

“Oh please, it’s not like you were all that lonely.” You mumbled, going back to stretching.

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means I’m sick of seeing some random women in my hotel room every week. I shouldn’t have to show your fling out while you showers.” You snapped at him. You had stood up fully to look at him.

“That’s fucking stupid.”

“Whatever Max.” You tried to walk out but he grabbed your arm.

“Don’t walk away from me.”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You yanked your arm out of his grip.

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a bitch.” The slap was quick, and if you weren’t so mad you were sure you would be as surprised as Max looked.

“I’m not some girl you picked up from the bar, don’t you ever talk to me like that. You want to sleep with a new girl I’m every town? Be my fucking guest, but get your own room and leave me the fuck alone for now on.” You stormed out of the room, leaving a surprised Max alone.

———————————————————————

You stared down at the cup in your hands, filled with tea. Your head just wasn’t focused, which was worrying you for your match. A no dq match took concentration, and that was one thing you were lacking. As you were in your head you felt rough hands cover your eyes, blocking your vision.

“Hey Cassidy.” You greeted with a small smile. The hands were pulled away, and all of best friends sat themselves down. Orange and Kris next to you, and Trent, Chuck, and Yuta across from you.

“How do you always know it’s him?” Yuta questioned, earning an eye role from Trent.

“That’s the only way he’s approached her ever.”

“What?”

“It’s how he introduced himself to me.” You clarified. Your cup was pulled from your hand as Orange took a sip, making a face.

“Green tea.” He mumbled.

“Oh no! What’s wrong?” Kris looked at you worried, and before Yuta could ask Chuck clarified,

“She only drinks green tea when she’s stressed.”

“My head just isn’t here today, and with my match later I really need it to be.” You explained.

“Is it because of him?” She asked. You had told her about Max last night.

“Me and Max also got in a fight.” You sighed.

“How do you possibly put up with that fuck face?” Chuck asked, making you chuckle a bit.

“Believe it or not, he’s not always an asshole.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“There he is.” Yuta spoke up, pointing to the screen behind you playing the show. You all turned to look at it seeing Max in the ring a mic in hand, ready to talk.

“I’m going to need you all to get over the fact that you don’t like me, which I get. I’m not an easy person to deal with.” He started, making your frown. Max never said anything negative about himself in the ring. Ever. That wasn’t who MJF was.

“I’m fact, very few people actually put up with me. However, 14 years ago, when I was only 11 years old, someone moved into the house next to mine.” Now this was really odd. Your family was the one who moved in at 11 years old.

“These people consisted of a couple, and their daughter. I didn’t think anything if it, just another person to ignore at school. And for a while that’s all she was, until one day. On this day I happened to be getting harassed, just like normal,”

“God, this story..” you mumbled, hiding your face in your hands.

“But unlike normal, the next door girl approached us. Not a word was exchanged, she just punched the bitch across the face.” He paused for a moment smiling, as though remembering the moment.

“I didn’t know it then, but I had just met my best friend. And as years went on we would get closer and closer, and she would stay just as tough as that first day. She has put up with me for 14 years, and no matter how stupid I acted she would set me straight. Y/n,”

The crowd seemed to loos its shit at your name.

“Tonight you are going to beat the shit out of Penelope Ford, because just like with that asshole years ago, you are one tough bitch. And everyone is going to find out that the women I love is better then them, and they know it.”

Your hands flew to cover your mouth in shock, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“Did you know he was going to do that?” Chuck questioned, watching as you shook your head slightly.

“Not at all…”

“Y/n!” You looked over to see Taz with Ricky, Hook, and Hobbs. “Did you know that little rat was going to do that?” He pointed at the screen we’re Max was walking back up the ramp.

“Nope.” You downed the rest of your tea and stood to meet the men you were on a team with.

“Come on kid, it’s about time for your match.” Taz ushered you away from the table and you quickly waved goodbye to those you had been sitting with.

“You ready to win for team Taz?” Ricky asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walked.

“You know it babe.” You winked at him, letting your arm to wrap around his back.

“Ok, MJF put us in a tough spot. I want you to completely ignore what he said, got it? Last thing we want them to do is throw you into some stupid love story with that bitch. Understand?” Taz asked you as you all arrived at the gorilla.

“I got it Taz. Don’t even worry.” You assured him. Taz had been a great mentor since you started in AEW and joined his faction.

“I know you do kid. Now go make us proud slugger.” The rest of them wished you luck as you walked over to the table where Tony, Kenny and the Bucks were sitting.

“Ready y/n?” Kenny asked, flashing you a smile.

“Let’s hope so.” You looked up just as your music started, and you walked out.

You threw your arms up before bringing them into a muscle pose, showing off the tap on your arm that said ‘Team Taz’. The wall down the ramp had a fair mix of cheers and boos. You and Penelope had the chance to do a heel vs heel story, so fans never really knew who to cheer for.

Soon the two of you were in the ring, and the announcement of who you were happened. Then the bell rang. You were immediately on each other, and soon had chairs, tables, kendo sticks, and anything else you could find out.

At one point you were laying outside the ring, trying to catch your breath. You didn’t know where Penelope was, and as you struggled to pull yourself up you found yourself looking right at a fan.

“You got this y/n. Your better then her, and you know it!” They cheered, calling back to wha max said. You have a funny look as you slid back into the ring. Your head was almost fully on Max when you felt some arms grab you. You turned as Penelope hit you in the side of the face with a clump of barbed wire. You let out a surprised scream as you felt it pull on the skin of your face, and you were sure you were bleeding.

“Bitch!” You yelled, slapping her so hard she dropped the clump. You both started throwing punches and she grabbed your hair to drag you to the turnbuckle. You both climbed it, and when you looked down you saw she had set up a table with glass, tacks, and barbed wire. The look in her eyes told you she didn’t intend to actually push you onto it, it was just for show.

As you both continued to hit each other you started to hear the fans chanting Max’s name. You were distracted for just long enough to not move out of Penelope’s strike. It was a little harder then normal, and you get yourself topple backwards. You felt like you fell in slow motion, but the moment you made contact with the table pain exploded through you. You didn’t screen, didn’t yell, and you were to afraid to move. You just laid there like a turtle on its back.

You made contact with Penelope, and did your best to beg her to end the damn match. She seemed to understand got out of the ring, grabbed you, and rolled you in. When she pinned you the pain in your back was going a bit numb. When the match was over you rolled onto your stomach, breathing heavily. Within a few minutes you felt a few people in the ding with you.

“Y/n?” You looked up to see Ricky knelling next to you. “Hobbs, help me get her up.” Both men grabbed one side and helped you to your feet. Once there Taz was in front of you holding your face.

“You killed it kid!” He promised. With Hook holding the ropes apart the guys helped you out of the ring. The crowed was cheering, and you have the camera the best smile you could before going backstage. Tony met you there along with a medic.

“How’d I do boss?”

“Amazing, but you need to get looked at.” He told you, his eyes a bit worried.

“Y/n!” You flinched a bit at the sudden noise. Max came jogging up, a deep frown on his face. “Oh my god, are you ok?” You were surprised to see so much emotion behind his eyes.

“Back off a bit man.” Hook tried to put himself between the two of you, but you pulled yourself away from Ricky and Hobbs to touch his shoulder.

“I’m fine guys. I’ll text you when this shit is out of my back.” You promised. Ricky made eye contact with you before nodding. They all said goodbye before Max wrapped your arm around his shoulder to lead you behind the medic.

The walk was silent and soon enough you had the glass and tacks removed from you back, blood cleaned from your face, and bandages all over. The medic had left to grab you some water, so it was just you and Max.

“Hell if a match.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled, staring at the ground. You really didn’t know what to say to him. On one hand you were pissed at how he had treated you, but on the other hand you couldn’t get his promo out of your head.

“Y/n-“

“Why would you say that stuff?” You interrupted, looking up at him. He bit his cheek lightly, something he did when nervous.

“I- after are fight, I knew I needed to do something. I didn’t want to loos you.” He confessed. You felt anger rise in you for some reason.

“And you thought moments before my match was the appropriate time?!” You snapped.

“I-“

“No Max! Do you realize how bad that was for me? I was distracted! Every time someone in the crowd said you name I got distracted! Did you notice I messed up and fell when they were chanting your name?” You had stood up and poked him in the chest. It seemed to dawn on him, and his face lost color.

“Fuck, I am so sorry.” He gentle set his hands on your shoulders. “Fuck, I didn’t think that through. Y/n, I am so sorry. I never wanted you to get hurt, I just- I love you.” He whispered the last part, like he was afraid you would hear him. You started up at him, seeing the boy who started at you when you moved in next to him. The kids who got bullied by everyone at school, your best friend, your date to Sinor prom because neither of you had dates. The boy you fell in love with a long time ago.

“I love you too Max.”

His hands moved to cradle your face. “Can I kiss you?” You nodded, and he moved to meet your lips. The kiss and his touch was soft, like he was afraid to break you. Your hands were gripping his suit jacket, afraid this moment wasn’t real. You pulled away to breath but he didn’t let go of you, holding you close to him. “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

“Nice of you to grow a pair.” You joked making him chuckle.

“I should have sooner.” He said, kissing your forehead.

“Ya, you should have.” You sighed. Resting yourself into his body.

#aew #fanfiction #request #mjf fanfiction #mjf fluff #mjf x reader #oneshots

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itjazzbicch · 3 years ago

Text

Seven Minutes In Heaven

Pairing: Chuck Taylor x Fem Reader

Summary: After admitting an intimate, personal secret during a party game, the reader's best friends are surprised. Disregarding the comment, the party lives on, but when Chuck gets in with the reader during a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, he lets her experience something new...

Warnings: SMUT (18 + ONLY!)

Requested by: @linziland13 (asked for some Chucky T! Sorry I took a bit love! I hope you enjoy it!)

Word Count: 1166

Tag List: @demonqueen29 @jessiebean00 @new-zealand-chic @crowleysqueenofhell @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @thatpanpal @hungmanhorsecarriage @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @linziland13 @xxx-jazz-xxx @writtingrose

I DO OWN THIS GIF

Being at this party, full of life, feeling like I was so young again. It was a blast, but then the one thing I wasn't so good at came along. Party games. Personal ones.

Beer pong? Better believe I could play. Darts, video games, anything I could handle, but when we all sat down and started playing, never have I ever, that's when all the hiccups came.

"I think you are just overthinking this," Trent laughed, "Literally just say something you have never done!"

"But don't be boring!" Chuck blurted, taking a sip of his drink, Orange agreeing:

"What they said."

"Okay," I smirked, laughing and admitting "Never have I ever had an orgasm."

Trent raised his hand along with them, then realized what I said; "Wait, what did you just say?"

"You heard me," I sipped, "What? You guys said don't be boring!"

"I know you're not a virgin," Trent laughed, shocked by what I said, "How is that possible?!"

"Faked it. Didn't want to make my ex feel bad," I confessed, trying to change the subject, "Okay, Yuta your turn."

Yuta was so innocent, making us all laugh when he slowly stood up and said, "Ight, I'm gonna head out."

Thankfully, I was able to change the subject and went back to the beer pong table, showing everyone how you truly play. After some more drinking and goofing off, one of my girls ran up to me, pulling me over to a circle on the floor.

"What's this?"

"Seven minutes in heaven," She had no good intentions, pointing to the small room that was going to be used for it, "I'm not sitting here alone."

"Only for you," I sighed, sitting down criss-cross, taking a big gulp of my drink.

"Spin that sucker!" Chuck laughed, letting Trent be the one to spin it.

They gave it a few spins and it didn't dare to come near me. I was still being lively and talked to some friends who walked past, having them bring me another drink, till my attention was finally caught:

"Ohhhhhh shit!"

I quickly looked to see the bottle.

Chuck and Me.

He had this little crazy smile that he'd always make, signaling to me. For shits and giggles, I stood up, grabbing his hand:

"If he comes back in pieces, don't say I didn't warn you guys."

"Take it easy on him! He's my best friend!" Trent joked, my friend scoffing:

"Like she would fuck Chuck!"

I dragged Chuck into the room laughing, shutting the door. Seven Minutes and counting.

"Wanna drink?" I offered, assuming that we weren't going to do anything until a kiss smacked me hard, about making me spill my drink till he took it, sitting it down, "Chuck-"

"What?" He giggled, "It is called seven minutes in heaven."

I couldn't believe that he kissed me, but at the same time, it was and I liked it, was craving more. This sexy look in his eyes made my heart beat faster, blood running hot and fast. For a moment, I listened to how loud the music was.

There was no way no one could hear us and that's when a mischievous smile appeared on my face, making Chuck's grow:

"I don't know how it's gonna be heaven when you're hotter than hell."

I took him by the face, kissing him hard, tongues dancing and exploring while my hands began to wonder, rushing when he said:

"Remember earlier when you said that you never had an orgasm? That you had to fake it?"

"What about it?" I giggled, hand slipping into his jeans and stroking his cock, hard as a rock, biting his lip while stroking it softly, "Think you can get me off that quick? You're crazy."

They set a timer by the door and there was still some time left and Chuck saw too, "Better hurry and let me have the chance."

Moving like lighting, I threw off my shorts and panties, sitting back on the couch with my legs wide open, inviting him, "Show me what you got."

Time was running out, so he didn't play around, taking a stance between my legs to hold himself properly, making me gasp out loud hard, cock pushing slow at first then slamming right in.

"You might want to hang onto something," He chuckled, truly working as hard as he could, holding my legs up by my ankles, pounding away.

"Oh my god!" I whined, overloaded with pleasure already, feeling adjusted only for my walls to clamp up tighter, handfuls of the couch cushion while my sweet spot was being hammered.

This was new and incomprehensible from how fast he was going. I've almost been to that point before, but getting this close to it for the first time, knowing it was going to happen, was a lot to process. Brain so fried that all I could was scream his name.

"Now I know you were telling the truth earlier," He acknowledge, smiling with dirtier intentions, "Look at you. Never seen you be such a mess before. Screaming my name already."

"You're just so-" I tried, ending up moaning louder, able to feel all of his cock so deep, getting a new angle when he leaned down to kiss:

"What? Didn't expect me to fuck you this good? This fast?"

"No," I admitted, holding the back of his neck, "But you're so damn good, Chuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

He looked back for another quick moment, seeing the time growing shorter, doubling his efforts. I was scratching at his neck, body losing control with sudden jerks. I didn't know what was happening, it was overwhelming but so good, blasted into lust and bliss when I cried:

"Chuck, I think I am cuming!"

He stood up straight to watch for himself, spreading my legs wider, groaning with a smile when I shook hard, gushing around him, breathless while he fucked me through it, making sure I felt every nerve, jerk, all the pleasure being dragged.

"Made you squirt on the first try," He spoke proudly, enjoying his last few thrusts, "Damn, Y/N."

"C-Chuck," I panted, legs sore when I finally let them down, "I don't know if I can go back out there."

"Sorry, but we only had seven minutes," He looked back at the time again, seeing there was a minute left, "Got done just in time."

"I really hope the music was loud enough to cover up that screaming," I laughed, sitting up.

Chuck offered me his hand, helping me take care of myself so we could hopefully, put on a show as if nothing happened. But I wasn't done just yet. Ten seconds were left and before he got to the door, I yanked him back, kissing him hard, growling:

"This isn't over. You got the better of me and I will get the better of you."

"You'll get the chance because after that," He kissed back, taking a handful of my ass, "This ass is mine."

#wrestling #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #wrestling smut #wrestling oneshot #aew #aew imagine #aew fic #aew smut #aew oneshot #chuck taylor #chuck taylor x reader #chuck taylor imagine #chuck taylor fic #chuck taylor smut #chuck taylor oneshot #request #read and enjoy

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crimsonmasks · 2 years ago

Text

(Call Me) Little Sunshine 1/?

BCC polycule monster AU where kayfabe is real and AEW is home to demons, sirens, werewolves, an alien, the undead, and in the case of the BCC, vampires.

“You don’t ever think about getting a leg up sometimes?” Yuta asks. “It’s a big decision, but–”

Danny straightens and grunts, putting the bar back into place. “Never. You think Jericho and his boys aren’t just beggin’ to get their teeth into all this?” He gestures to himself and Yuta snickers.

“I’ve told him no every single time. I ain’t like them. And neither are you.”

“I just think,” Yuta starts. “This isn’t, like, a bad offer.”

Yuta knows, logically, his job is weird.

Sometimes he tries to explain it to people, long winded explanations about how he arrived at the point of being in a televised fighting tournament meant for only the most gifted and exceptional athletes, and how some of them (most of them, he thinks, at least the more popular ones) have what Yuta might call an unfair advantage. He doesn’t hold it against them–far from it, Yuta takes pride in being one of the only regular, average humans in his line of work–but he does know, in the part of his brain that comes home at night to Chuck’s pull out sofa that’s long since stopped actually folding into a bed, that yes, his job is weird.

“This is so weird,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He’s certainly not talking to anyone else in the room, Mox and Bryan and Regal staring at him with unreadable expressions.

They’ve sequestered him in one of the conference rooms the executives keep for meetings, Yuta situated in one of the seats at the middle of the table. He wonders what it says about his confidence that he didn’t pick a chair at the head of the table even in a meeting solely about himself.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Bryan huffs. Mox rolls his eyes at the comment, seemingly hearing it before.

“Yeah, you do; come on, Wheeler, think about it,” Mox begs, his voice strained like he can make Yuta decide if only he’s passionate enough. “Just a couple of test matches, I know you’re gonna get over anyway, and that’s it, you’re in.” He stalks around the room like his legs won’t let him stop, veering to clap Bryan on the back.

“You trust us, don’t you? Two of the best guys in the business, we can make you so good, Wheeler, all you gotta do is say the word.”

Yuta wants to squeak, ‘am I not already good?’ but Regal speaks before he can, commanding the room with the accent light on Yuta’s ears.

“What my protégées are trying to say, dear boy, is that you don’t get opportunities like this often. Once, if ever, in a lifetime.”

“Several fuckin’ lifetimes, even…” Mox says under his breath. He continues to pace, occasionally crowding around Yuta like a shark might circle a seal.

“Take some time and consider it, Sunshine.” Regal squeezes Yuta’s shoulder and his breath hitches. Then they’re gone, all of them falling into step and leaving Yuta alone in an empty room with just his thoughts to keep him company, the sound of the door echoing through the empty hall.

Yuta lies awake that night turning over the ideas in his head. He likes being with the Best Friends–loves them, each and every one of them. However, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be at the same level as his friends without having to fight tooth and nail for it.

Kris isn’t normally allowed to use all her powers in the ring out of fairness, but even without the weird alien telekinesis she’s strong, so much stronger than any of the others and certainly stronger than Yuta. Yuta thinks about Danhausen, who’s only recently taken to following Chuck and Orange around, and how even as a bumbling, weird little freak he still has the kind of strength and power that leaves opponents quaking. Yuta walked in on him once accidentally, saw him talking in the mirror to some distorted version of himself, bigger and scarier and decidedly non-human, and promptly turned tail and left.

He thinks about Chuck and Trent and Rocky, the way they throw each other around when they train, too much for Yuta on certain days close to the full moon. Is that what Mox is like with every stable he’s been in? Too powerful for anyone else to handle?

If he took them up on their offer, what would he become? His entire persona would have to change, from Yuta-The-Human to… would he even call himself a vampire?

Mox doesn’t ever use that word. Yuta knows, watching Mox’s old matches from his couch-bed in Chuck and Orange’s living room, even back when he was a wiry little fledgling doing death matches in backyards, that Mox has never used the V Word. Sure, he’s played it up a little, his long hair falling in his eyes as he carves up another wrestler with a glass tube, licks the blood from his hands and smiles at the camera–Yuta’s dick gets hard and he tries desperately to ignore it, playing the next match on the laptop he got from Chuck as a hand-me-down.

It’s from a little later in Mox’s career, but still before he hit it big. He sways into the ring with the same signature gait he’s always had, each step powerful if not a little meandering. When he gets on the mic, the crowd boos; Yuta huffs a small bit of laughter at the incredible change in his popularity in just a few years.

His opponent blindsides him with a leap off the balcony before Mox can react, hitting him hard against the mat. Yuta groans as the man takes a belt to Mox’s back, the anguished, “ah, ah!” noises rising above the cheers of the audience. He whips him again, once, twice, before wrapping the belt against Mox’s neck, choking him against the ropes, and Yuta closes the laptop with a sharp crack.

He’s thinking about it. Just going over his options. That’s all this is.

There are a lot of regular people in the company, but they’re vastly outnumbered by everyone else, the real veterans of the scene, the inhumans. That’s why Yuta seeks out Danny for advice, rather than someone like Chuck or Orange: they don’t really know what he’s going through, not really. Danny would understand being a regular person, and what this offer meant, and give Yuta his no-bullshit opinion.

“Why would you wanna be one of those bloodsuckers anyway?”

He’s spotting Danny as he lowers three hundred pounds into a squat, his thighs flexing. Yuta hovers but doesn’t touch the bar.

“You don’t ever think about getting a leg up sometimes?” Yuta asks. “It’s a big decision, but–”

“I’ve told him no every single time. I ain’t like them. And neither are you.”

“I just think,” Yuta starts. “This isn’t, like, a bad offer.”

“Nah, none of that. That’s how they fuckin’ get you, man. You’re gonna be chained to them for life if you let one of ‘em bite you. No identity of your own; just another bloodthirsty little monster that’s riding a bigger guy’s coattails.”

Yuta lets the words wash over him and finds that they settle warm in his chest. “Just because you wanna be on your own doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I don’t know how the blood-bonds work but–”

“But what?” Danny laughs. “You think you’re not good enough on your own? You gotta be someone’s little pet to make it big?”

“Come on, man–”

“I’d never roll over for one of them like that. Not any of ‘em, no matter what they promise; not the vamps, or the demons, or the undead, none of ‘em.”

Yuta can’t help the snort that forces its way out of his nose. “Then why does Chuck say you smell like another wolf all the time? I think you have been rolling over–”

“Oh, fuck off, Wheeler.” Danny snarls, his face burning red. He leaves the gym so fast that Yuta worries he doesn’t catch the echoing, “Tell whoever is giving you that beard burn that Rocky’s told the whole roster you’re spoken for!”

Yuta turns over the pros and cons in his head for days before he finally gets the courage to text the group chat a simple, [can we talk soon?]

Trent responds first. [No.]

His phone luckily lights up with a text from Chuck right after.

[Yeah I’m almost done]

[Got steak for dinner]

[Is everything okay?]

[:((((((]

Yuta doesn’t answer. His phone buzzes again when Orange hearts the message about steak and the sound makes him anxious. He groans.

[yeah everything’s fine]

Trent dislikes the message and Yuta throws his phone into the couch.

“You guys know that I love you, right?” Yuta asks over dinner. There’s a basketball game on the TV that Trent and Orange are watching from the couch while the rest of them sit at the dining room table. Yuta stares at the steak on his plate, jabbing at it.

His appetite leaves him.

“‘Course we do,” Chuck says, cutting his own piece of meat into pieces. It bleeds a considerable amount more than Yuta’s does.

“And I appreciate all you guys have done for me.”

“We love having you,” Chuck says, beaming. “Best friends, right?” His smile is so earnest that Yuta feels sick.

“Fuck, okay, I’m just gonna–I’m just gonna say it. I got an offer from Mox to do a try out with his new faction, and nothing’s set in stone, but. But I just wanted to tell you.”

The sounds in the room grind to a halt. Yuta hears a fork clatter to a plate. Kris stops with a bite of food halfway to her mouth. Chuck stares.

Yuta watches in silence as Chuck’s face contorts, emotions leaving his features just as quickly as they come. He settles on a grimace, a pained attempt at a smile.

“You’re really thinking about leaving?”

Yuta wants to jump off a bridge. “Not, I mean, not right now–and I won’t, there’s like, a big chance they don’t like me. Or I’m not good enough, I won’t get in, or they decide not to–”

“But you want to?” Chuck asks softly.

“It’s–” Yuta pauses. Yes, he wants to. No, he doesn’t. He has to do this. He won’t leave his only friends. Yes, no. Yes, no. “It’s a good opportunity.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Trent says from across the room. “Are you fucking kidding me, Wheeler? Really? We take you in, put you up, teach you fuckin’ everything you know and what, the minute you get a better offer you fuckin’ pack up?”

“Hey!” Chuck tries, his pack leader voice, which Trent has evidently gotten very good at ignoring.

“No, you’re gonna let me fuckin’ talk. You gave the kid all your goddamn time and attention and this is how he repays you?”

“Trent, come on, let’s simmer down a little,” Rocky soothes.

“God, you all baby him because he’s young and breakable and he totally takes advantage of it and I’m the only one who saw it from the fucking beginning.”

“You never mentioned wanting to change,” Chuck murmurs, his voice measured amongst the raw emotion. “We could have helped you, you could have been pack–”

“I didn’t want to be anything, before this!” Yuta chokes. “I didn’t want a set path, I didn’t want to change, I didn’t want to be the third wheel while you and Orange tag. I wanted to–to win on my own.”

“Oh, boo fuckin’ hoo.” Within moments, Trent crosses the room to shove Yuta up against the table. “You know, Wheeler, you belong with those guys; they probably won’t even change you. You can be their pathetic little bloodbag fucktoy, whining about not being strong enough while they take turns–”

“Trent, that’s enough!” Chuck slams his hands down on the table as he rises to his feet. His lips are pulled back in a deep snarl and his face is red. Yuta eyes Kris for support but she resolvedly doesn’t meet his gaze, her hands raised in a clear approximation of “not my business.”

Orange makes his way around to Chuck’s side while he postures, his glare still pointed at Trent, who won’t take his hands away from where they’re knotted in Yuta’s shirt. “You’re just gonna let him betray us, then? Aren’t you mad?”

Chuck makes a noise that would be a sob if it wasn’t so choked down. “I’m fucking gutted, Trent. I know you are too, but this isn’t–”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me; I was just looking out for you fucking idiots.” Trent releases his shirt then, stepping back. He makes a show of placing his hands up and Yuta wonders why before Trent is very slowly letting his claws out. He takes a few more steps back and drops to the couch, running the very tip of the points over the cushions. With a sheer rip Trent claws through the fabric, the stuffing pouring through the gashes.

“Oops,” he whines, “now where will your little pet sleep?”

Yuta finally gets his senses back to him and turns on his heel, ignoring the overlapping concerned calls of his name.

“Don’t go,” he hears Orange say, as close to begging as the man can get. He doesn’t stop until the door is slammed behind him and he’s alone in his car.

No one walks out of the house to follow him.

Yuta doesn’t ask how or why Danny Garcia has Bryan’s address and is thankful he doesn’t feel the need to explain. He doesn’t want to text before showing up, a stupid, prideful part of him deciding that if Bryan turned him away he would just get a hotel and never show his face around work again.

The sun sets on his drive over, and Yuta worries briefly if he might be gone. He parks outside the modest place, a regular house in a regular neighborhood, turns off his car, and allows himself one small breakdown.

His hands hit the steering wheel and his head dips.

This was stupid. He’s stupid. He left the one stable thing in his life, people that love and care about him, on the single conditional offer of three inhumans he barely knows. He has to prove himself to them, has to impress them, show them he’s worthy of being their equal. Christ, they hadn’t even promised to bite him, he just assumed that was where this was headed–

He doesn’t cry, doesn’t let himself yell, just stares at his knees and whispers, “fuck, fuck,” as his head swims with dread. Yuta can feel it bubbling in his chest, his throat, curling around all his organs like smoke and taking form and strangling–

Someone taps on the window. His head snaps up.

“You okay, Wheeler?”

Yuta doesn’t expect genuine concern on Mox’s features but relishes it anyway. He scrubs a hand down his face and finally steps out of the car. “Yeah, man, doing great. My whole faction wants me gone and I have nothing but a single bag and I’m here to beg for a place to stay, so it’s going pretty good for me right now.”

“Oh, Bry’s gonna love that, he’s a sucker for strays.” Mox snorts, one hand coming to rest on Yuta’s back. “Bring your stuff inside and stop bein’ fuckin’ weird; sitting in your car skulking outside Bryan’s fuckin’ house, thought you were some kinda creep.”

Yuta laughs at that, a smile splitting his lips before he can remember all the things he should be upset about. By the time he’s settled on Bryan’s couch, the lights off as the other two men retire to some other part of the house, blanket draped over him and pillow borrowed from Bryan’s bed beneath his head, Yuta can almost pretend he’s at home.

#alright first fic for wrestling let's pull the trigger on this very long very meticulous au #bcc polycule #title is from the ghost song #(Call Me) Little Sunshine #<<<< fic tag

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hikarus-shida · 3 years ago

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KRIS STATLANDER: Being Best Friends with Kris

kris statlander x being best friends! headcanon

genre: platonic fluff

warnings: none

requested by: anon (hope you enjoy!)

tag list: @cutierocker202 @bec0m @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @elitehunter

headcanons masterlist

i had major writers block while doing this, so i hope you all enjoy the end product. i’m still kind iffy about it! :)

*i do not own this gif!*

Having an “alien” for a best friend seemed like the most unlikely companionship. However, Kris was actually one of the best friends you’ve ever had. Sure, she was too blunt sometimes and booped your nose way too often when she didn’t know what to say, but that was Kris for you.

Kris is super big on being affectionate. As your best friend, whenever you needed a cuddle or a hug, Kris had no problem wrapping her arms around you and holding you until you no longer needed it.

She also didn’t have a problem with taking matters into her own hands when you’d have a problem with someone. Kris was fearless and she’d do anything for you, especially if it meant tracking down a mean person and threatening them with Trent, Chuck, OC, and Yuta.

Kris would be great to talk to when you need to vent because she wouldn’t sugarcoat anything. Sure, she would make sure to comfort you and give you advice, but she would refuse to tell you want you want to hear and would tell you want you need to hear instead.

And if she didn’t know what to say, she’d wing it.

“On my home planet things like this don’t happen, but why don’t you try this instead?”

Being Kris’ best friend also meant helping her understand things she didn’t exactly understand about humans yet. Always at the end of the conversation, you’d both agree that sometimes humans were at fault for everything.

It also meant her telling you all about the Andromeda galaxy and other things about space, as well as her own stories from her planet. Of course, she knew everything since it was her home.

“And that’s how I almost got burned at the sun!”

“How you’re still alive is a mystery, Kris.”

All in all, Kris was a great best friend. She’d even have her moments where she would randomly tell you how grateful she was for you, which would worry you since she’d only do that when she was about to do something weird, but in her eyes, you had taught her to be way more compassionate and understanding, teaching her things she hadn’t fully understood before.

Every day it felt like you and Kris’ friendship would grow more and more. You soon realized that you couldn’t be without her antics and having Kris as a best friend was probably one of the biggest gifts you’ve ever gotten.

#kris statlander #kris statlander aew #kris statlander headcanon #kris statlander drabble #kris statlander imagine #aew #aew headcanon

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romegaketh · 3 years ago

Note

i'm utterly in love with your speculation fics, especially the ac/oc ones!! i'm super new to wrestling so a lot of the lore tm is still very unknown to me but man... the way you write them both is so good. especially adore orange's voice in ten seconds or less!! i was wondering if you were planning on writing more in this series... maybe even something about the blackpool combat club? anyway, thank you so much for your writing!!

ah thank you anon!! i love that verse and i def have some stuff in the works - i have been stuck on a moxbry forever, and i am of course endeared to yuta bc he is a BABY and i love him, but rn i am still fooling around with adam-related belt drama.

i was trying to do some orange pov bc i love his voice so much (thank you!!) but i think for lots of reasons it won't work out. i will throw a lil snippet under a cut tho! (speculation-verse, post-the chuck/yuta vs moxbry match.)

Orange hit his shoulder too hard at Revolution - "fucking ladder matches," Chuck hissed, as soon as he saw Orange in medical, "never a-fucking-gain, we are signing onto Mox's petition, no more ladders, I don't care what the Bucks say," - and since then he's been on the sidelines. That's how it goes in this business; he's not offended by it. That would be like being offended by a nature show where a leopard seal eats a baby penguin.

Obviously, this thing with Yuta would be a lot more manageable if Orange had both his arms. But he doesn't. Nothing to be done about it.

Chuck and Trent have returned to catering, coats folded over their arms. Yuta is at the other end of the room; he doesn't look away from Orange but he doesn't come over, either. Orange makes a fist with the hand in the sling, and then he releases it.

"Hey," Chuck says. He smells like cigarette smoke; he quit before they got married, and rapidly took it back up again. "You good?"

Orange nods.

Trent says, "I shouldn't have gone off at the kid without talking to you." The smoke is clinging to his clothes, covering his normal scent. Normally he smells like green grass.

"We were talking about it," Chuck says. "Like adults. Ugh."

"Gross," Trent agrees. But he holds out his arm and Orange steps in for a sideways hug. "Sorry I ripped on your ungrateful son before talking to you."

"Thanks," Orange says.

"I still think he's a fucking brat," Trent says.

"Okay, okay," Chuck says. "He's still our kid."

“Hey!” It's Kris, with Red in tow. Kris is different, thanks for nothing Leyla. But at least she got Red out of it. The smell of stardust is starting to fade.

Orange takes advantage of the distraction to put his hand on Chuck's elbow and steer him into a corner, away from everyone else. Chuck lets himself be steered. Good old Chuck.

"What's up?" Chuck asks.

“Hey,” Orange says. “You want me to come home tomorrow?”

Chuck looks - there are too many lines around his eyes; they are too deep. “No,” he says. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Chuck,” Orange says, quietly. He liked being married to Chuck. Whenever he was hungover Chuck used to bring him Advil. He still does that now.

"No, man. You should go. It'll be fun."

Orange waits.

"It's not fine," Chuck says. "It's obviously not fine. But you coming home with me won't make it any better. What are we gonna do, watch home video of our baby growing up and cry about it?"

"Better me than Trent."

Chuck laughs, hollow. “It was bound to happen one of these days,” he says. “It’s the biz, baby.” He shakes his head. “No, don’t worry about it. Have your - fuckin - sex weekend, whatever. You deserve one.”

“It’s not a sex weekend,” Orange says.

“Okay,” Chuck says. He hugs Orange gently. “I’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “And I’ll be just as ready to cry on your shoulder when you get back.”

“That sounds more like it,” Orange says. “You want a muffin?”

“Yeah,” Chuck says. “I want a muffin.”

Yuta is still watching them. Orange raises a hand when Chuck isn’t looking, so Yuta will know he isn’t being ignored.

#fic: mine #au: speculation #ask: anon

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elitehunter · 2 years ago

Text

Drabbles (250-500 words)

Malakai Black

“If that makes me a child, so be it.” [x]

“Do you ever stop smiling?” [x]

Trent Berreta

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” [x]

Christian Cage

“Be you. No one else can.” [x]

“This is a one time thing.” [x]

Jade Cargill

“Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.” [x]

Orange Cassidy

“Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?” [x]

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” [x]

Alex Coughlin

Author free-write [x]

David Finlay

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” [x]

Maxwell Jacob Friedman

“I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…" [x]

Daniel Garcia

“I’m not weird, you’re just basic.” [x]

“You did all of this for me?” [x]

Jamie Hayter

“I think you forgot who wears the pants in this relationship” [x]

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” [x]

Brody King

“Is that what you call an apology?” [x]

Eddie Kingston

“You’re not interested, are you?” [x]

“I’d kill for a coffee…literally.” [x]

“Just sleep with one eye open, that’s all I’m saying” [x]

Matt Jackson

“Enough with the sass” [x]

“Why’s there a pregnancy test in the trash?” [x]

“He’s dead, again” [x]

Nick Jackson

“The diamond in your engagement ring is fake.” [x]

“If I trip over one more of your shoes, I’m throwing them all away” [x]

“Are you just quoting song lyrics?” [x]

Angel Ortiz

“That SOOO classifies as a date.” [x]

“I don’t hate you” [x]

Jeff/Angelo Parker

“Enough with the sass" [x]

“What’s the biggest lie you ever told?” [x]

“In my defense, I really wanted to” [x]

Hangman Adam Page

“How could I ever forget about you?” [x]

“I had a dream about you.” [x]

“I’ll spend a thousand lifetimes coming back to you.” [x]

CM Punk

“Take your shirt off” [x]

Hook/Tyler Senerchia

“Are you going to talk to me?” [x]

Scorpio Sky

“Oh, what a shocker, you have an excuse.“ [x]

Shawn Spears

“Sit still, for the love of all that is Holy.” [x]

“I think I might be in some kind of love with you” [x]

Ricky Starks

“You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?” [x]

"You don’t hate me, quit lying to yourself.“ [x]

“You’re so fucking cute.” [x]

Chuck Taylor

“Don’t you ever do that again!” [x]

El Phantasmo/Riley Vigier

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” [x]

Cash Wheeler

“No. Regrets” [x]

Pick up lines only work when I’m drunk” [x]

“It could be worse.” [x]

Jay White

“I hope I’m never stuck with you on a deserted island.” [x]

“Stop being a fucking prick” [x]

Wheeler Yuta

“I never liked it, I lied.” [x]

#elitehunter fanfiction #elitehunter fic #elitehunter drabbles

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dunkzillla · 2 years ago

Text

(I don’t want to be) second best; jon moxley x wheeler yuta

title: (i don’t want to be) second best

pairing: jon moxley/wheeler yuta, mentioned and implied: bryan danielson/wheeler yuta, bryan danielson/daniel garcia, blackpool combat club polycule

rating and warnings: explicit, sexual content (thigh fucking, handjobs) descriptions of violence, language.

word count: 3904

summary: Yuta feels sick, and his hands are trying to scramble for purchase on a belt that’s no longer there.

authors note: I started writing this the day after dynamite on 3 hours sleep and ended up sharing a snippet for a fic meme. @slapofhonor wanted more so, here’s the rest of it!

ao3 link

Yuta feels sick, and his hands are trying to scramble for purchase on a belt that’s no longer there. They’re empty, empty and cold and his waist feels, well, naked.

Someone’s shouting at him from down the hall, but his mind is all fuzzy, his body sore and running on autopilot. He doesn’t turn around to see who it is. It’s probably not Bryan, he’s too focused on parading Daniel around the ring like his shiny new toy to worry about where Yuta’s going, and the way that Regal had looked at him when he walked away, well, Yuta doesn’t think the older man is going to talk to him for a while. He’d done everything that Regal had told him not to do. Don’t use any of your rope breaks, don’t lose your head, and don’t lose. Yuta did all of that in the match, starting with the rope break and then slowly descending into madness, he closed fist punched Garcia because it was all he could think to do upon seeing red, when he just wouldn’t quit, and then he lost, he tapped out. He knows Regal is disappointed in him, and Yuta doesn’t quite know how to deal with that yet.

It hasn’t been that long since Trent cornered him in the corridors after the tag match with Chuck and Mox, and screamed in his face about upsetting Chuck and Orange, about using Chuck’s pin, and about how the blackpool combat club are going to throw him away when he loses his title.

The thought has been stuck in Yuta’s mind since, like a nasty, poisoned dart stuck in his side, slowly releasing its toxins into him every time he thinks about it. And now, well now the losing the title part of it has come true, and with the way Regal looked at him, maybe the throwing him away will be true too.

It’s all Yuta can think about as he makes his way through the winding halls and back to the locker room. It’s empty, and he can’t decide whether that’s good or bad. Did he want someone to be in here, Mox, Claudio, or maybe even Eddie, someone to just put their arms around him and tell him it’s going to be okay? Or is it better that there’s no one here, no one to tell him hey, you gotta pack your stuff up, gotta give your place to Daniel Garcia. It’s probably the latter but Yuta doesn’t know how he’d react if that happened, though.

There’s a heaviness in his muscles that isn’t just from the beating he just took in the ring, and the thumping of his head isn’t just because Garcia stamped on it against the exposed turnbuckle.

His chest hurts from the slaps and the way his heart is thumping under his skin, his eyes are stinging from the sweat that got into them and the tears that are threatening to fall. Yuta strips off his things and throws them into a pile by his bag. He doesn’t quite feel like folding them neatly like Regal likes. He steps into the shower, turns it hot, and stands there. He stands there and lets his mind shut off while his skin burns. Tears run down his cheeks, getting lost in the water cascading down his face. Yuta knew his time would come, he knew he’d lose the belt eventually, he just didn’t think it would be now, this soon, or to Daniel Garcia. He thought maybe some ROH legend would show up some day, or maybe Joe or Bryan would take it from him, Yuta had planned for it in his head, knew it could happen, would have accepted that, but Daniel? The guy he’s essentially been on an equal path with from the start? The guy Bryan’s fucking obsessed with? That wasn’t part of the plan, that wasn’t okay. Because now Bryan, his mentor, a hero of his, a lover, who gave him the pure title upon his initiation into the Blackpool Combat Club and said this was mine once, but now it’s yours, like it was the highest honor he could be bestowed with, was giving it to someone else. Bryan Danielson giving you the pure title? It’s all people like he and Daniel dream of, their hero, proud of them, wrapping a title they held so honourably around your waist and saying hey, you’re good, this is yours. Yuta had felt proud, honoured, smug knowing that he was the only one Bryan had done that for. That he would be the only one Bryan did it for, because no one was going to take it from him, not anyone that Bryan would want to do it for, anyway.

But then he has, now, he lost his title to the one person that Yuta feels threatened by. He feels the sticky white hot fury inside of him. Bryan had come down to the ring, looked at him as if to say well, he beat you, shake his hand, like Yuta needed telling what to do, like Yuta was the disrespectful one, despite Daniel being the one who disrespected him the last time they had a match, Daniel being the one who let his team cheat for him to win his match against Bryan. Daniel Garcia is disrespectful, even to his hero, and yet, Bryan looked at Yuta like it was him. Like he wasn’t allowed a second to collect himself before he swallowed his pride and shook the winners hand. Then he’d watched Bryan parade him around the ring, like a father with his new born son, proud and beaming even as Jericho came out.

Yuta smacks his fist against the tiles, feels the crack of his knuckles and the splitting of skin but it barely registers. He’s not even in his own body anymore. He doesn’t want to be.

Mox finds Yuta standing under the running water of the shower when he gets into the locker room. It was stupid of him to think that the boy was going to be anywhere else, but at least the time spent looking for him had given Yuta a little time to cool off.

He’s in his own world, not hearing Mox come in, not hearing Mox stripping down so he can join him. Yuta’s whole body jolts when Mox presses up behind him, skin to skin and wrapping his arms around that soft middle of his.

“Easy tiger, just me.”

Yuta’s body is still a little taut, but he relaxes into Mox’s hold, and he tips his head back as Mox ghosts kisses across his wet skin, stroking the smoothness that is his hips and belly, tasting water and soap on his tongue.

“Moxie.”

“Yeah, Moxie. I’m so fucking proud of you.” He says, and he feels Yuta shake at the words the moment they’re out of his mouth. A bloodied hand comes to rest on Mox’s own, and Mox links their fingers. Yuta’s hands are shaking, wet and sticky and warm, they’re soft against Mox’s calloused own.

“I lost.” Yuta's voice cracks, wet and high.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not proud, Wheeler. You did so good, got so mean, just like me.”

A sob escapes Yuta, and Mox holds him tighter, pressing his chest against his back, squeezing his hands and his arms around his belly. The water rains down around them, a steady pounding on the floor tiles.

“Regal, he said—“

“I know. You did what you had to do. You were surviving, doing what you had to. Don’t ever feel bad for that.”

“But—“

“No buts, baby. How many times do I gotta knock it into your pretty head? He ain’t always right, and wrestling ain’t always about doing it the hard way. You’re not weak, or wrong for using a rope break on a submission that knocked Bryan out cold. You’re not. If it was easy to fight out of Garcia wouldn’t use it. Wrestlings not about how many times you get knocked down, it’s how many times you get back up. And my boy, my boy always gets back up, don’t he?” Mox turns his mouth, presses the words and kisses into his ear. Yuta shivers against him, pushes back against him. It’s a bi-product of having Yuta’s slick, warm body tucked against his own that his dick is hard against Yuta’s ass.

“Bryan’s—“

“An asshole. An asshole with an obsession. He’ll get over it, either he’ll get what he wants or he’ll get his heart broken and he’ll move on. No matter what, Garcia will never be you. Never. He took the easy route and shacked up with Jericho. Not you, tiger. No, you stepped right into the lion's den, didn’t you? Stepped into the cage wearing raw meat. You got eaten alive time and time again but each time you took it, you stood up,” Mox runs a hand up Yuta’s slick chest, his shaven chest is smooth, and his nipples are peaked and hard. Yuta’s got a sensitive chest, pushes into the hand on his skin, back arching and ass pushing right against Mox. He’s sinful, he’s a sick, dirty temptation that Mox can never resist. He slides his hand up to his throat, long, taut, the perfect fit in Mox’s hand. He doesn’t squeeze, just rests it there, his thumb on the curve of his jaw, fingers underneath his ear. He feels Yuta swallow.

“Garcia might have won, might have beaten Bryan once, but he never did it like you did it. He cheated against Bryan. He nearly cried when he bled in the cage at blood and guts. Not you. Not my Yuta. You give until you can’t anymore, even if that means losing. You are stronger than he will ever be, more of a man, more of a fighter. Bryan picked the wrong guy, I didn’t, I picked you. Cos’ I know you’re the best.” Mox strokes Yuta’s throat, skims his blunt nails against the soft pouch of Yuta’s tummy, kisses the base of Yuta’s neck, the expanse of his shoulders. Touching Yuta is like touching a cloud, or at least what Mox thinks it would be like touching a cloud. He’s soft, yielding, moulds against you no matter which way you turn. He tastes like fresh summer fruit, bright, sweet, fragrant. It’s addicting, maddening, and Mox has been hooked from the very first touch. The first touch in the ring, the first touch in the locker room, in a hotel, in a bed. Every single first time that he had with the boy Mox became more and more obsessed each time. Each touch, taste, each little smile, smirk, gasp.

The first time they sparred, their first training session, Mox pushed him hard. He didn’t hold back, he was angry at himself for being so infatuated, for being so obsessed. It felt like Seth all over again, and he couldn’t do it, so he tried to beat it out of Yuta. He pulled at his arms until he screamed, he choked him until he was red, punched his stomach until he was doubled over and wheezing. But then, at the end of it all, Yuta, covered in sweat, a bit of blood from an old scab that had been ripped open, Yuta pulled himself to his knees, and like a starved man asking for food, said, “Again.”

Mox had slapped him, a hard cracking sound had filled the room, a slight gasp from Yuta. But once Yuta had recovered, he looked back up at Mox, and motioned with his hand. Again. Mox slapped him a total of six times, his hand stinging, a red mark on Yuta’s cheek, eyes glossy and rolling into the back of his head. He still never gave up, but Mox couldn’t take it anymore. The boy was a sight, and Mox was hard. It was then that Mox fell head first into his obsession, his infatuation, with Wheeler Yuta. He let it consume him, history repeating itself be damned. Yuta wasn’t Seth. Seth couldn’t take a slap the way Yuta can. He liked pain for sure, but he had his limits, limits that didn’t take much for Mox to reach. Yuta, he’s sure Yuta has limits. Mox just hasn’t found them yet.

Daniel Garcia won’t ever be Yuta either. No matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he wraps Bryan around his finger, he won’t ever be the kid who knelt in front of him, half dead and bleeding asking for more. He won’t ever be the kid who got in Regal’s face and took the slap like a champ. Maybe he will be to Bryan, but that’s okay, because Yuta is his anyway. Yuta can sleep with who he wants, kiss who he wants, but he’ll never belong to them the way he belongs to Mox. He’ll never give himself to anyone the way he does to him. And that’s just the way Mox likes it, needs it.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Yuta gasps gently, tries to push and pull his body in different directions, back into Mox’s chest and up into the hand on his stomach. He’s hard like Mox, had been slowly stiffening as Mox petted at his belly above his cock and pressed his own against Yuta’s ass.

“Anything, just, something, anything — get me out of my head, Jon, please.” Yuta begs. His voice still cracks, is still wet with tears, but Mox can hear the desperation, the need simmering under the surface.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Don’t I always? I’m here.” Mox slides his hand down and wraps it around Yuta’s cock, warm and slick from the shower.

“Up,” He murmurs against Yuta’s ear. Yuta obeys, planting both hands against the shower wall and going up on his tiptoes. Mox squeezes Yuta’s throat and cock at the same time as he slides his own between his thighs, the water making it slick and easy. He doesn’t have lube, and he’s not leaving Yuta to go get it, and he’s not opening the boy with just water and spit, he likes pain but not like that.

Yuta pushes his thighs together, not tight, but enough that there’s a delicious friction against Mox’s cock as he thrusts between them slowly. “There you go, so good for me, such a good boy.”

Yuta makes a strangled noise, tips his head back onto Mox’s shoulder and turns his face to the side so he’s looking at him. His expression is open, unguarded, and pained. He’s looking to Mox for help, for anything, to make him feel better. Mox kisses him.

“Mox,” Yuta kisses him desperately, like he’s trying to get swallowed whole, like he wants to disappear into Mox completely. Mox would let him, if it was possible, he’d hide Yuta inside of him, protecting him from the world. The only person allowed to hurt him, make him bleed, is himself. “Please.”

“I know. I’m here, I’ve got you, just let it go. Let it all go. They don’t matter.” Mox bites at Yuta’s lip, tugs on it, gives Yuta the pain he needs to remind him who he is, what he can take. Yuta gasps, rocking back on his toes, fucking his thighs down onto Mox’s cock like he’s riding him for real.

“Moxie, please, I’m—“

“Come on baby, give it to me. Show me how good I know you are.” Mox tightens his hand around Yuta’s cock, fucks his cock between his thighs quicker. It’s not quite the tight heat of Yuta’s ass, but it’s velvety smooth, wet, and Mox can feel his own orgasm building.

Yuta shakes, his orgasm taking over him as he clutches at Mox, “I’m gonna, oh fuck I’m gonna— fuck!” He paints Mox’s fist, though it’s quickly washed down the drain by the running water.

Mox is right there with him, and the tight clamp of Yuta’s thighs as his orgasm rips through him pushes Mox over the edge, comes with a growl and a bite to Yuta’s shoulder. He makes a mess of his boys thighs, his release dripping down his legs. It’s filthy, but Mox watches in fascination as they come down together, breathing heavily. Eventually Yuta shifts, and the angle of the water changes, washing away the mess on his skin.

He turns in his arms, pressing his back against the wall and leaning in to kiss Mox. Fresh summer fruits burst in Mox’s mouth and clouds slip through his fingers as he lets his hands grope Yuta’s body. His muscles are still tense, most likely still sore from his match, but he’s better, not as taut or ramrod stiff like he was when Mox found him. He likes that. He likes that he’s able to uncoil him like a spring, put him right and back together, so that he can coil him right back up again ready to be let off on someone.

“Thank you.”

Mox smiles. Yuta’s voice is thick, arousal still coating his tongue, but his voice doesn’t crack, and it’s no longer wet with tears. His eyes are focusing, still a little red, but he’s there, his boy is in there, back from the brink, out of his head. “Don’t have to thank me. You know I’ve always got you.”

Yuta dips his head until he’s tucking his face into Mox’s neck, letting himself be cradled in Mox’s arms.

Mox holds him there for a little bit, running his fingers up and down his spine, whispering sweet little words to him that he can only just hear over the shower water. The water stays warm, but eventually Yuta starts to shiver and shake in his arms, so Mox turns the water off and gets him back into the main part of the locker room. He dries him off, kissing across his body as he does. It gets Yuta to smile; that beautiful, sunshine bright smile that he loves so much. Yuta’s eyes crinkle when he smiles like that, showing his teeth and all the lines in his face. Mox loves that smile, and he loves it more when he’s the reason for it being there.

He dresses him in a clean pair of sweats and one of his own hoodies, Yuta likes to wear them because they smell like Mox, likes the smell of his aftershave and cigarette smoke.

“You wanna stay and wait for the others or catch a cab back to the hotel?”

“We should stay… I don’t want them to think — you know, like I’m running away.”

“No one would think that, baby, but we’ll stay. I don’t got anything to do.” Mox says, and he sits down on the bench, pulls Yuta with him and helps him lay out, lets the boy put his head in his lap and slips his fingers through his wet hair, petting him gently.

The shows over, but the Rampage taping has probably already started, and Claudio’s got a match so they’re not going to be leaving any time soon. Yuta falls asleep with his head in Mox’s lap, curled up in a little ball and breathing deeply. Mox settles in, his own legs perched on a chair as he scrolls through his phone. They’re like that for around half an hour when he hears voices approaching, looks up curiously to see Bryan, still wearing his ring gear, pushing the door open. Daniel Garcia is following behind him, the pure title still wrapped around his waist.

“Get out.” Mox growls lowly.

“It’s not just your locker room, Jon.”

Mox growls again. Sometimes Bryan can be a right prick. He knows that Yuta is upset about the title, he knows that the last person he wants to see right now is Garcia, yet, here he is, bringing him into the locker room like he belongs here, like he deserves to be here. He doesn’t. He never, ever will.

“And I respect that, but considering he is the last person Wheeler wants to see right now, I’d say it’s a pretty dick move bringing him in here.”

Bryan’s face moves barely an inch, but his eyebrows furrow slightly, lips pursing momentarily, “He shook his hand—“

“Out of respect, don’t mean he wants to play god damn happy families five minutes after he just lost his title to him. You’re fucking lucky he’s asleep, go, before he wakes up.”

Bryan thinks about it for a moment, and then he’s turning, putting a hand on Garcia’s back and leading him out of the locker room. The kid had the sense not to say anything, because one wrong word out of his mouth would have sent Mox charging.

Mox makes the mistake of looking down at Yuta. His eyes are open, wet and red again, looking up at him through damp lashes. He wasn’t asleep.

“Baby…”

“Don’t — I just, keep, keep doing that.” Yuta’s voice is thick and wet again, sad, as he lifts Mox’s hand and puts it back on his head, nuzzles into his stomach.

“I got you.” Mox whispers softly, carting his fingers through the drying strands as he feels some of Yuta’s tears dampen his shirt. God he fucking hates Bryan sometimes. He can’t even see what he’s doing to the kid. There’s no harm in wanting another protege to train, they all want to be the best group they can be, safety in numbers and all that, but that doesn’t mean that their first protege has to be pushed out of the way to make room for a new one. That’s the problem with Bryan, he loves so fiercely, but it’s so laser focused, it’s almost like he can’t love more than one person at a time, like he doesn’t know how. There’s no doubt that he loves Yuta, Bryan made him soup when he was sick and stayed up all night finding the best way to unblock a nose without using chemical infused decongestant sprays. But right now, right now Bryan loves Garcia, or thinks he does, and he’s so focused on him that he doesn’t see that he’s forgetting Yuta, that he’s pushing him aside and hurting him. Yuta just wants to be loved, loved by everyone he loves. He hates being a disappointment, in anything, and he feels like he’s disappointed Bryan, and Bryan won’t give him the reassurance he needs because he’s too busy with someone else.

“Sorry.” Yuta whispers after a moment, and he sniffles, trying to dry his eyes with his fist.

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry. Just let it all out. I’m here, alright? I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours, you’re mine, fuck the rest.” He says, scratching his fingers at the base of Yuta’s scalp.

Yuta sighs softly, cuddling closer. Mox knows he can’t take away what Yuta feels with just words, probably not even his actions, either, only Bryan can do that, but he can help, he can make him feel better, happy, even, and if he can do that, well, it’s a start.

“Love you.” Yuta whispers.

Mox smiles, bringing a hand up to stroke his cheek and run his thumb over his lip. They’re wet with tears, and Mox knows that if he kissed him right now, he’d taste fresh summer fruit, but fresh summer fruit eaten by the sea, skin getting kissed by warm sun and clouds.

He wipes away a tear. “Love you too, tiger.”

#kind of got carried away with mox’s obsession with yoots but oh well #I love them too much #jon moxley x wheeler yuta #wheeler yuta x bryan danielson #bryan danielson x daniel garcia #blackpool combat club #jon moxley #bryan danielson #wheeler yuta #daniel garcia #mox #writing

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wrestlezon · 3 years ago

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aew rampage 4/8/22 liveblog containment post

YEAH WOO GO TRENT

CALLING THE BEST FRIENDS IMBECILES... HEY!! THOSE ARE HIS FRIENDS!!!!!

omg can u imagine how mad yuta would be if regal starts lookin at trent as a cool guy instead? what a recipe for rivalry. im rotating thoughts and ideas

i think trent is cool!!! he has a rough go of it constantly bein' out on injuries, but i think it'd be cool if the yuta vs trent thing escalated and became like. a whole thing

i knew this would be the outcome but it was a cool match regardless! woo

a hook segment! yes! and danhausen is-- NO NOT THE TRASH CHIPS-- anyway im really excited to watch a hook vs danhausen fight LMAO woo

oh dan lambert is on screen. and hes talking. great opportunity to rewind and get this screencap of trent i wanted to get but missed earlier

i am enjoying this swerve vs qt marshall match. its cool! love to watch qt marshall takin the hits. selling or whatever. swerve is also really good! so its a solid match

yay!!! willow vs red velvet!!!!!!!!!!! ooooo

tony nese wants to be a main character now!! tony nese please get a character besides being buff and built. ethan page is also buff and built and has charisma to boot. you have to step up. find a captivating way to be a lunatic

YEAH YUTA MOXLEY MATCH!!!! WOOOWOOOO!!!!!!!! IVE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS

i forgot about the commercials. nevermind. i will have to wait longer. look at this screen with me

oh!!!!!!!!!! yuta has his own music now!!!!!! cool guy alert!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

VIOLENT YUTA!!!!!!!!! HES UNHINGED!!!!!!!!

BLOODED YUTA

THIS MATCH RULES!! what a sick flip moxley did on him

oh my god he is POURING blood. dripping absolutely everywhere

BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! table

VIOLENT YUTA USING DANIELSON STOMP MOVES... hes learning!!! being influenced!!

JESUS!!! KICK OUT OF THE PARAGIDM...

TWO??? TWO KICK OUTS???????

LMFAO MY DUDE YUTA REALLY JUST WROTE BCC ON HIS CHEST IN BLOOD

#talkzon

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wrestlingisfake · 3 years ago

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AEW Fake Rankings, 9/25/2021

Men's singles division - babyfaces

CM Punk

Bryan Danielson

Jon Moxley (GCW world champion)

Chris Jericho

Cody Rhodes

Darby Allin

Christian Cage (Impact men's world champion)

Eddie Kingston

Orange Cassidy

Brian Pillman, Jr.

Men's singles division - heels

Kenny Omega (AEW men's world champion, AAA mega champion)

Miro (AEW TNT champion)

MJF

Malakai Black

Adam Cole

Andrade El Idolo

Matt Hardy

Powerhouse Hobbs

Shawn Spears

Daniel Garcia*

Unranked: Brian Cage, Dante Martin, Dustin Rhodes, Frankie Kazarian, Feugo Del Sol, Jake Hager, John Silver, Lance Archer, Lee Johnson, Matt Sydal, PAC, QT Marshall

* Not listed on official AEW website roster

A big talking point lately is that AEW's roster has gotten pretty huge. One effect of this expansion is that it's a major pain in the ass for me to keep track of all the wrestlers who mainly compete on the YouTube shows. Going forward, I'll be focusing on the performers who have wrestled in the past 30 days on television or pay-per-views.

There's concern that the big stars from other major-league companies (mostly WWE) will crowd out the wrestlers who came up from the minors. That issue became more clear to me when I put together the above list. Twelve of my men's top 20 came to AEW best known for their WWE runs, and Omega made his name in New Japan. So if you expected AEW to be "the best of the rest," you're left with Darby, Eddie, Orange, Pillman, MJF, Hobbs, Garcia, and a bunch of guys in the background.

We'll have to see if this becomes a problem. I'm optimistic that AEW knows what they're doing, and wrestlers will be regularly cycled into and out of the spotlight. But WWE has conditioned wrestling fans to think that if a wrestler only appears on the C-show, then the bookers have totally given up on them. So I don't blame fans for being skeptical that AEW can find a better way. It's on AEW to prove that guys like Brian Cage, Pac, John Silver, Dante Martin, and Lee Johnson will get their day in the sun. And that's not even getting into the dozens of wrestlers that aren't listed above.

Men's tag team division - babyfaces

Lucha Bros. - Rey Fenix & Penta El 0M (AEW tag team champions, AAA tag team champions)

Santana & Ortiz

Jurassic Express - Luchasaurus & Jungle Boy

Evil Uno & Stu Grayson

Chuck Taylor & Wheeler YUTA*

Men's tag team division - heels

The Young Bucks - Matt Jackson & Nick Jackson

Men of the Year - Ethan Page & Scorpio Sky

FTR - Cash Wheeler & Dax Harwood

The Butcher & The Blade

Private Party & Marq Quen & Isiah Kassidy

2point0 - Matt Lee & Jeff Parker

TH2 - Jack Evans & Angelico

* Not listed on official AEW website roster

At any given time, AEW has about 16-20 active tag teams, but a lot of them are mainly on Dark and Elevation. Limiting the rankings to teams that have been on real TV in the past month gives us just twelve men's teams. Then again, that's still more than you'll see on most other wrestling shows.

I think it's important that three of the heel teams (Butcher/Blade, Quen/Kassidy, Evans/Angelico) are in Matt Hardy's stable, so it feels like Matt is begging for one of those teams to break away and turn face. The Dark Order also features three teams (Uno/Grayson, John Silver/Alex Reynolds, Alan Angels/Preston Vance), but their storyline about internal problems could break up one or more of those pairings, if not the entire faction. Interestingly, they've started to set up a feud between the entire Hardy Family Office and the sort-of reunited Dark Order, which may be where they blow off a lot of these issues.

Women's division - babyfaces

Ruby Soho

Kris Statlander

Thunder Rosa

Anna Jay

Tay Conti

Hikaru Shida

Big Swole

Riho

Red Velvet

Leyla Hirsch

Women's division - heels

Britt Baker (AEW women's world champion)

Jade Cargill

Nyla Rose

The Bunny

Penelope Ford

Jamie Hayter

Abadon

Diamante*

Unranked: Emi Sakura, Kiera Hogan*, KiLynn King*

* Not listed on official AEW website roster

AEW doesn't do a lot of women's matches on Dynamite and Rampage, but because of the battle royale on the 9/4 pay-per-view some of the overlooked ladies managed to make the cut.

We've seen some alliances forming in this division, which has stoked talk of introducing a women's tag team championship. However, it looks like AEW has other plans, involving a new women's TBS title to complement the men's TNT title.

I don't think the women's roster is deep enough to support any new belts. That doesn't mean I don't want a secondary title or a tag title. I do. But I'm not convinced that introducing a new title will commit AEW to actually push more wrestlers and expand the roster. That commitment is what I really want; new belts are just gravy.

Part-time/semi-retired: Chavo Guerrero Jr., Homicide, Karl Anderson (Impact men's tag team champion), Luke Gallows (Impact men's tag team champion), Mark Henry, Minoru Suzuki, Rebel, Sting, Tully Blanchard, Paul Wight

I don't get the impression that Homicide and Suzuki will be sticking around for very long. Aside from them, all AEW is getting from the "forbidden door" these days is Gallows and Anderson, and all they do lately is stand in the back of Kenny Omega's entourage. These crossovers have been fun and all, but they've been more like Green Lantern/Silver Surfer than JLA/Avengers, if you get my drift.

The Dan Lambert/American Top Team storyline appears to be setting up some kind of match involving Junior dos Santos, Jorge Masvidal, Paige VanZant, and a bunch of other MMA jagoffs I can't be bothered to remember. We'll see if that actually happens, or if they just jerk around about it for another two months.

No TV or PPV matches in 30 days: Aaron Solo, Alan Angels, Alex Reynolds, Anthony Bowens, Austin Gunn, Billy Gunn, Colt Cabana, Colten Gunn, Griff Garrison, Joey Janela, Luther, Marko Stunt, Max Caster, Nick Comoroto, Peter Avalon, Preston Vance, Ricky Starks (FTW champion), Shawn Dean, Sonny Kiss, Wardlow

This doesn't include people like Julia Hart and Serpentico, who regularly appear for AEW but aren't on the official roster and apparently aren't under contract. Regardless, this gives you a good sense of which wrestlers would be the "AEW Dark roster," if we treated it like a separate brand or something. It'll be interesting to check in a few months which of these names are still stuck in this category.

No matches in 30 days: Anthony Ogogo, Brandi Rhodes, Brandon Cutler, Christopher Daniels, Leva Bates, Michael Nakazawa, Sammy Guevara, Yuka Sakazaki

As huge as AEW's roster is, it's impressive that only eight wrestlers are listed here. Guevara has a match set for 9/29, and Daniels is doing a little crossover thing on Impact Wrestling. Brandi just got back from maternity leave, and while I assume she plans to get back in the ring, that remains to be seen. As for the others, it's possible some of these people have injuries or are taking time off, and the details just haven't gotten out.

Inactive

Darius Martin (knee - unspecified ACL injury)

Hangman Page (paternity leave)

Kip Sabian (undisclosed injury)

Serena Deeb (left knee - unspecified injury)

Trent Beretta (neck - herniated intervertebral disc)

The big story here is Page, who was being set up for a major run for Kenny Omega only to suddenly lose his title shot and disappear from the show. That left everyone pretty anxious for Page to get back, especially since a wave of big new stars could crowd him out of his spot. I'm sure AEW knows when Hangman is scheduled to return, but there's no way for any of us to figure it out, which is frustrating.

Trent had neck fusion surgery, which has a notoriously slow recovery time; I don't expect him to be on TV until the middle of 2022. I haven't seen any kind of timetable for Sabian or Martin, probably because there are so few details available about the extent of their injuries.

Deeb had knee surgery in March, returned to the ring in May, and went back on the shelf in July. Evidently she came back too soon, and she's still rehabbing the original knee injury. I worry about that kind of thing when I see Britt Baker (or Impact's Chelsea Green) working through a broken wrist.

#aew #fake rankings

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