#jon moxley one shot

[justanoasisimagines]

You're injured

Hey lovelies back with another headcanon. My requests are open! You can find my request guidelines pinned to the top of the page! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

❀Mox doesn't like it when you're injured. He hates seeing you in pain and discomfort.

❀Mox attends every doctor's appointment possible. He wants to know what he can do, and how he can assist your recovery.

❀He's going to make sure you're as comfortable as possible. If you need to have your pillows fluffed, Mox will do it for you. He'll make sure you're warm enough etc.

❀Mox would also buy you all of your favorites to make you feel better. Favorite snacks, favorite movies, favorite dinner etc. Anything he thinks could help.

❀Mox would also reassure you as much as he could. Being injured is frustrating. Mox has experience with this. So he's going to help you through the bad days during your recovery.

❀Mox doesn't like to see you injured, however, he's always proud of your recovery. Observing the battle and the endurance Mox is an awe of you. He vocalizes this often.

[99bluntz]

the room was tense, you were mad at your boyfriend, i mean— how couldn’t you be?

his body, full of bruises after yet another overdone fight. you knew it was all part of the act; yet it still freaked you out to see him getting thrown onto steel chairs, steps, and ladders.

“im fine man, its all good.” dean mumbled.

“you sure?” you asked, your eyes dancing around his biceps that were always covered in random cuts.

“i’m sure.” a soft chuckle coming from his lips as he rubbed his shoulder.

“you’re mad at me, huh?” he softly added after a few moments of silence.

“i am.” you said, the slightest pout growing on your face.

“you’re pouting, babe.” he said, his voice reflecting the wide grin on his face.

“no im not!” you combated, looking away from him.

he laughed, before climbing over to where you were sitting on the corner of the bed.

“c’mere gorgeous.” he mumbled, gently holding your chin as he brought you into a tender kiss.

you broke the kiss after a few seconds, looking at the pretty face before you.

your eyes trailed down to the sweat-stained and ripped tank top he was wearing.

“take this off, you’re gonna get my bed dirty.”

“you just wanna see me shirtless, you perv.” dean joked, following your orders, and sliding his shirt off his torso.

“shut up.” you jokingly replied, dean making a “zip it, lock it, put it in your pocket” motion in response.

“jeez, you’re so dumb.” you laughed, dean smiling along with you.

after a moment, dean suddenly pulled you closer to him by your waist.

“you’re hot.” he muttered, before pulling you into yet another tender kiss.

your hands couldn’t help but snake along the smooth muscles of his back as you kissed him back, his soft lips dancing around yours.

before you knew it, dean started to tug on the seam of your t-shirt, giving you a signal that you knew all too well.

you pulled away from the kiss, licking the leftover saliva off your lips before speaking.

“you need to shower before you even think about doing anything.” you said sternly.

dean huffed “fine…”

“can we atleast shower together?” he smiled.

[usomads]

𝔲𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔰'𝔰 𝔞𝔢𝔴 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

◦ You Taste Better

◦ Dripping (tw: blood)

coming soon...

coming soon...

[danwhobrowses]

Okay so I've watched Dynasty, and I get that people are upset that Mox won again. But here's the thing;

Wrestling never lets lightning strike twice, Swerve winning 1 year after winning the title before at the same event already felt like there was the risk of fuckery to rain on the parade. Swerve was also mega protected in defeat and while Moxley's reign does lack in luster, the villain does have to win sometimes - it makes his defeat all the sweeter.

Swerve losing here however might just be a necessary evil. If Swerve won, the Owen would be locked for Hangman on the same night the first round began - at least now Ospreay is back to being considered as a potential winner too. And it's not to say that Swerve won't get a second chance, All In Texas is 3 months away; Spring BreakThru, Double or Nothing, AND Fyter Fest are in between that, there's still time to deal with the Bucks and use winning as stakes to get a second chance.

Are there places AEW still needs to improve? For sure, all companies have that; several talents are absent in all divisions, several talented wrestlers fall lower in the pecking order than their talent should allow, and several talent who are over are in need of something substantial even if it's feuds that'll lead into challenging for a title. But if you can endure 2 years of Bloodline main events you can endure a bit more of the Death Riders. Dynasty was still good, AEW is still good, don't let Moxley retaining make you forget that.

[icanbeyuoronewingedangle]

"i cut a distraction out of your life" okay. divorce combat club

[the-fandoms-georgie]

Groupie

Jon Moxley x Reader

Rating: 18+ NSFW

A/N: Might run with this, please let me know if you want me to write the steamy part.

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestible Actions, Implied Public Sex? Please don’t interact if you’re uncomfortable with forceful, dominant male behavior or implied smut.

Find part 2 here:

It’s warm outside the arena. You couldn’t get tickets to the show today, but you were hoping to see him. It’s the first time AEW has come to your city, and you’d be damned if you missed a chance to see Mox. He made your stomach flutter, along with other things. Watching him week in and week out, grabbing at the waistline of his pants with that smirk, the smug way he saunters through the crowd and squares up with his opponents, even him all covered in blood, everything about Jon’s mannerisms undeniably turned you on. And every part of your body ached for him. You couldn’t help but hope that just seeing him in person would help quell your desire.

You could only hear muffled cheers and music from where you were outside, but it had to be close to the end of the show. You’ve been out here for hours, pacing the building, scrolling through Tumblr on your phone. You had snuck around to the back where you assumed the doors were that led to the back of the arena. It’s then that you hear the opening and slamming of said door just around the corner. Your heart stutters. Is that the door from backstage?

“Fuck! Fucking bullshit.”

Oh my god. That’s him. You’d know his voice anywhere. You freeze where you stand. He comes into your field of view. He’s shirtless with his gear on, running his hands through his hair. He stops and places his hands on his hips, looking skyward. He’s mumbling to himself now, pacing back and fourth.

You step around the corner just a bit, your heart hammering. Moxley. He must have just finished a match, you could see the sweat glistening on his body and the marks on his skin from battle. Fuck me. You were gaping at him, in disbelief that he’s actually in front of you. He turns around and spots you.

“No shit. You some kind of fan? How’d you get back here?”

Keep reading

[bijouxcarys]

Prove It (Roman Reigns x fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Description: They work together, they travel together, they're around each other almost 24/7. So, why is it so damn hard for them to be alone when they need it? Oh, that's right... it's a secret.

Warnings: NSFW, MINORS DNI, smut, fingering, dirty talk, semi-public escapades, Roman being a lil menace, secret affairs, fluffy undertones...

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I have used everyone's real names (apart from where Sasha references Ambrose). The superstars included are Roman, Becky Lynch, Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose/Jon Moxley, Sasha Banks, and Liv Morgan.

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen (if you'd like to be added to the tag list for any future Roman fics, just let me know in the replies/reblog!)

The door to the hotel room swung open, a chorus of laughter and chatter spilling out into the hallway. It had been a gruelling week on the road, and the whole lot of them were ready for some much-needed relaxation. Thankfully, a majority of the rooms down that particular hallway were occupied by WWE Superstars, so noise complaints were a slimmer chance than usual.

Using her and Gionna’s hotel room as a gathering spot wasn’t on Y/N’s to-do list, but when conversation struck up in the car about having a night of relaxation, to let go a little, Gi was more than eager to offer up the room. That was Gi for you; more like her Liv alter ego than even she cared to admit.

Not that Y/N was mad of course; these people were practically family.

“Someone get the drinks?” Gi called out, scrunching her nose up to push her clear-framed glasses further up as she plopped down on one of the beds, her blonde hair splayed out behind her.

“I got ‘em, relax,” Colby replied, holding up two six-packs with a grin. He cracked one open and handed it to her, settling onto the floor next to Jon, who was already mid-story.

“So, there I am, right? Middle of this tiny-ass town, and I can’t find the damn gym anywhere,” Jon was saying, his voice animated. “GPS is telling me I’m there, but I’m lookin’ at a freakin’ cornfield!”

“Classic Ambrose move,” Mercedes laughed, shaking her head as she leaned against the wall. “A terrible sense of direction.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! Technology hates me,” Jon shot back, taking a swig from his beer.

Leaning over the group from her place on the bed, Y/N accepted a can from Colby, her eyes involuntarily capturing those she knew would be hard to refrain from the entire night. Gazes locked with the man standing just behind where Colby sat, arms folded; his tank top allowed for a perfect view of his tensing muscles under the gorgeous tan of his complexion. It was a look that spoke volumes—intense, secretive, and heavy.

Considering the close-knit nature of the wrestling world, it was an impressive feat that Joe and Y/N had managed to keep their affair under wraps.

“Who knew we’d all end up here tonight?” Mercedes said, her voice cutting through the din as she reclined on the floor, back pressed against the side of Gi’s bed.

“Yeah, thanks a bunch for lettin’ up the room, Y/N,” Becky added, raising her bottle of water in a mock toast.

“Don’t be thanking me, thank Barbie over there,” Y/N nodded towards Gi, who simply shot a thumbs up in her direction as a response. “But yeah, I mean it’s nice to have a moment to just… be.”

“Amen to that,” Joe said, his deep voice rumbling as he grabbed a drink from the pack Colby brought.

Jon snorted from his spot on the bed. “Yeah, because being crammed into a tiny hotel room is so much better than our own rooms.”

“Hey, at least it’s free entertainment,” Colby retorted, tossing a pillow at Jon, who caught it with a lazy grin.

“Free entertainment, huh? Guess that makes you the clown,” Jon shot back, eliciting laughs from everyone.

“Better than being the guy who gets thrown out of bars,” Colby quipped, throwing his arm around Becky with a cocky grin towards Jon. Colby and Becky were truly in the throes of a honeymoon period. It was a task just getting him to own up to the fact that he liked Becky in more ways than one, so when they finally decided to screw everything and officially become a couple—PDA and all—it was a relief. Finally, the two people who practically pined over each other for at least a year, had gotten their shit, and themselves, together.

The night wore on with more stories, jabbing at one and other, and moments over the last week that were becoming fond memories. At some point, pizza boxes were ordered and devoured, and the room’s occupants settled into various positions of comfort—or as close to comfort as they could get in the cramped space. Joe had claimed a spot on the floor near Y/N’s bed, leaning back against the wall with a relaxed posture that belied what was going through his head.

“Man, I could get used to this,” Mercedes said, stretching out on the floor. “Better than passing out alone in my room.”

“Yeah,” Becky agreed, earning an offended glance from Colby. “We should do this more often, is what I’m sayin’, babe, relax.”

“Just as long as he,” Jon pointed directly at Becky’s boyfriend, “promises to keep his snoring to a minimum.”

“I don’t snore!” Colby protested.

“You absolutely do!” Gi pointed out, honestly scaring the crap out of everyone since they all just assumed she’d passed out across her bed.

Y/N found herself increasingly distracted by Joe’s presence. Every laugh, every shift of his body, every low rumble of his voice seemed to pull her attention like a magnet. She could feel his eyes on her intermittently, a silent conversation playing out between them that no one else in the room could hear.

“Y/N, remember that time we got lost tryin’ to find that diner?” Becky asked, breaking Y/N’s reverie.

“Oh my God, don’t,” Y/N laughed, recalling the memory. “We ended up in the middle of nowhere, and you were convinced we were gonna end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries.”

“I was being cautious!” Becky protested, lifting her hands up. “You never know with those back roads, they’re frickin’ dodgy!”

“That’s why I always use GPS,” Joe interjected smoothly, and deeply, sending a wave of chills over Y/N’s body, though she did a damn good job at hiding it.

“Excuse me, did I not just tell you about my cornfield trauma as a result of GPS earlier?” Jon called out.

“You made it eventually, man, calm down,” Joe chuckled with a roll of his eyes.

As the night wore on, the energy in the room began to wane. Conversations quieted to soft murmurs and the occasional chuckle, as everyone started to feel the weight of the week on the road.

“Alright, I’m calling it,” Colby said, stretching out his arms and yawning. “I’m too beat to head back to my room. Mind if I crash here?”

“You can take the floor, Rollins,” Jon muttered from his foetal position in the armchair, his eyes half-closed. “Ain’t no way I’m movin’.”

“Yeah, me too,” Mercedes chimed in, curling up in a corner with a pillow Gi threw at her. “Too tired to move.”

Becky looked around at the group, her eyes landing on Y/N. “Looks like we’re all stopping in here. Hope you don’t mind, love.”

“Not at all,” Y/N replied with a smile. “It’s nice having everyone here, and I’m sure that one doesn’t mind.” She glanced over at Gi, who was already on the precipice of slumber.

“It is kinda nice,” Becky nodded. “Feels like a big ol’ sleepover.”

“Except with more muscles and less gossip,” Colby quipped with an amused chortle.

Joe had stuck to the spot on the floor near Y/N’s bed. He glanced up at her as she climbed into the sheets, their eyes meeting once again in the dim light.

As the others began to settle in, finding whatever space they could to lay down, the room slowly descended into a comfortable silence. The soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle were the only sounds that broke the silence.

Y/N laid back against her pillows, her thoughts drifting. She felt Joe’s presence nearby like a physical touch, a comforting and exhilarating reminder of their secret. She turned her head slightly, catching his eye in the dark.

“You okay?” Joe whispered.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, her lips curving into a smile. “You?”

“Better now,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her face.

Her pulse quickened. They were surrounded by their friends, all blissfully unaware of the silent conversation happening right under their noses. The thrill of the secrecy only made the moment more intense.

“Think they have any idea?” she asked in a hushed tone, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Joe smirked. “Not a clue. We’re good at this.”

“Guess we are,” she replied, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

A quiet laugh escaped Joe’s lips, and he shook his head slightly. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Y/N grinned. “You love it.”

“Damn right I do,” he said softly, eyes glued to her.

They shared a long, meaningful look, the best they could in the limited light. They both knew the risks of being discovered, but in that fleeting moment, it didn’t matter. They were together, and that was enough.

“Night, Y/N,” Joe whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Night, Joe,” she replied, equally as gentle.

With a final lingering look, they both turned away, settling into their respective spots. The room was filled with the quiet sounds of their friends, but for Joe and Y/N, the silence couldn’t be louder.

She woke up around 3am, the room shrouded in darkness save for the faint glow from the streetlights outside. She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, when she felt it—his gaze. Slowly, she turned her head and found Joe propped up on one arm with his phone in his hand. His face was illuminated only by the device.

Seriously? You couldn’t have just stayed asleep? She thought to herself, a mix of amusement and frustration bubbling up inside her. Here they were, in a room full of their sleeping friends, with Joe looking like a whole meal doing the bare minimum. The absurdity and excitement was so much for her to handle.

She gave him a pointed look when he finally took a peek over in her direction, her lips quirking up in a half-smile when he noticed she was awake.

“What are you doing awake?” she asked as quietly as she could.

Joe’s lips curved into a slow, lazy grin, with a bashful undertone. “Couldn’t sleep,” he practically mouthed, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes. “You just want to make this night more interesting.”

Joe shifted quietly on the floor, his movements careful and deliberate. He glanced around the room, ensuring everyone else was still sound asleep, then slowly moved to sit up. Y/N’s heart raced as she watched him, every nerve in her body on high alert.

Sliding onto the bed beside her, he moved with a careful grace that belied his size. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he settled beside her, his body warm and solid against hers.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a giddy giggle that threatened to escape. “We’re gonna get caught one of these days, you know.”

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But that’s what makes it fun, right?”

“Oh yeah, tons of fun,” she replied sarcastically. “Nothing like the thrill of getting caught by our friends to spice things up.”

Even the darkness couldn’t prevent her from seeing his pearly white grin. “Admit it, you love the risk.”

“Maybe I do,” she admitted with a gentle sigh, relaxing into his warmth as his hand slid up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

They laid there for a moment in the snore-filled room. The tension was palpable, a taut wire strung between them that could snap at any moment.

“So, what’s the plan?” she whispered up at him.

“Plan?” he echoed, feigning innocence. “I was just thinkin’ we could enjoy each other’s company.”

She rolled her eyes, positive that her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and despite the darkness, covered her face with her hand anyways. “You’re terrible.”

“And…? You love it, babygirl,” he shot back, his hand moving down to rest on her hip, fingertips teasing the space between her tank top and her shorts. “Remember that time we almost got caught in the locker room?” he asked with an audible smirk, his calloused thumb tracing circles on her exposed skin. “You nearly blew our cover with that yelp.”

“You’re the one who made me jump!” she protested, swatting him lightly on the arm.

He laughed softly, a rich hum that sent sparks straight to her core. “Sure, blame it on me.”

“You really don’t think anyone suspects anything?” Her question came as a small mumble, lost in the shadow of his form practically hovering over her at this point. And he was so close to her. She could feel light tickles from his beard on her cheek.

“Nah, baby,” he confidently reassured her. “We’re too good at this shit.”

“Famous last words,” she chuckled, though she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing delicately against the shell of her ear. “Don’t worry. I got this.”

“Yeah?” she challenged, sliding her hand up to rest on his shoulder. “Prove it.”

With a smirk, Joe shifted, rolling over so he could press his body entirely on top of hers. The bed creaked slightly, and they both froze, glancing around to make sure no one had woken up. Satisfied that their secret was still safe, they relaxed.

“What was that about ‘I got this’?” she lightly scolded, emulating his voice the best she could in her whispered tone.

“Shh…” With that, he pressed his lips down against hers, the hand that rested on her hip coming up to hold the side of her neck. He kissed her with a hunger that spoke of all the nights they had to keep their distance, the desire that had been simmering just below the surface finally boiling over. She returned it with equal fervour, trailing her fingers up to his man bun and feeling where the couple of hours being laid down had taken a toll on its usually pristine quality.

“Take this out,” she mumbled against his lips. “I like when your hair’s down.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. It was a relief to take it out, to let it fall down and create a protective shield around their faces as he went back in for another kiss. It deepened, tips of tongues prodding against each other until they were fully entwined in an intense dance. Her hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath his skin, the same way Joe traced the contours of her curves with a reverence that made her feel like a Goddess.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he breathed out in a gravelly whisper.

“Me too,” she admitted.

They were lost in each other, the world outside their bubble of desire forgotten. Joe’s hands slipped under her shirt, the heat of his touch against her bare skin making her gasp softly. He paused, his eyes searching hers in the small beams of light from outside, asking for silent permission.

She nodded, her breath hitching as his hands continued their exploration upwards. He pushed the fabric up, exposing her round breasts to the cool air and his heated gaze. Following the path of his hands, Joe’s lips made a tender journey down her neck, nipping and sucking lightly, before they stopped at her chest. Pressing kisses to her skin. Tip of his tongue tracing slow patterns along it until one of her hard nubs made contact. Thick lips wrapped around, kissing and suckling like he’d never get to again. Branding possession and desire.

“Joe,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

“Shh, we gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he reminded her, words muffled against the supple skin as he moved to pay the same exquisite attention to her other breast. “Don’t wanna wake the others.”

The reminder of their precarious situation only added to the intensity, causing her to unintentionally roll her hips up towards his. His hands were everywhere, mapping her body with a familiarity that was both comforting and thrilling. Her own hands were just as eager, exploring the hard planes of his chest. His heart pounding beneath her palm, a mirror to her own racing pulse.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin.

She smiled, a flush of pleasure spreading through her at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself, big guy.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her. “Glad you think so.”

Coming back up to her lips, she barely had time to readjust before his long, tepid fingers slipped under the fabric of her shorts and her panties. Another sharp gasp escaped her lips, internally cringing at how loud it was. God forbid, if anyone actually knew what they were doing…

“Easy, baby. Just let me take care of you.”

The pads of his fingers stroked over her slick folds, gently… teasingly. A moan rose in her throat, causing her to clamp her teeth down on Joe’s lower lip to suppress the sound.

“Damn, baby, you’re this wet already?”

“Yes,” she managed to breathe as he pressed heated kisses down the side of her neck. His middle fingers teased the smooth surface of her tiny, sensitive pearl, and she once again was forced to keep her noises to a minimum.

“Good girl,” he praised her efforts, rewarding her by pressing his fingers down firmer, further, until they slipped inside her with a smooth, practised motion.

The sensation was almost too much to bear. She clung to him, her nails digging into his bare shoulders as he began to move, digits sliding in and out in a slow and calculated motion. God only knew he wanted to finger fuck the shit out of her, but he knew that would cause unnecessary noise and a climax too short lived.

“God, how you always feel this good?” he groaned softly.

She whimpered, biting her lip to stifle it. His fingers curled upwards in their movements, pressing closer to her sweet spot. Driving her wild. Coiling her pleasure. Tighter. And tighter.

“Look at you,” he peered over her writhing form in awe. “So gorgeous… so ready for me, huh?”

Her response was a tight grip on the back of his head.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered hotly against her neck. “Tell me how you want it.”

“M-more…” She pathetically sighed. “Please, Joe…”

He chuckled softly, feeling a familiar twitch between his own legs. “Anything for you, doll,” he obliged happily, fingers picking up speed and his thumb finding her clit easily to glide against it in tandem with the rhythm he had curated on her body.

A gasp, an arch, a flutter around his fingers, and he knew. “Feel that?” he whispered in a seductive, dark purr. “Feel how close you are?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Oh, God, yes…”

“Atta girl,” he cooed down at her, propping himself up on his arm and pressing his forehead down on hers. “Cum, baby.”

Noticing her characteristic shudder, the way her eyebrows furrowed when a release was approaching, he took the initiative to manoeuvre his free hand to cover her mouth, baring down enough pressure for her to bite onto it as she rippled and arched into him. Her cunt throbbed and tightened around his fingers, and he watched with parted lips as she came so hard.

“That’s it,” he murmured in a soothing rumble. “Just like that…”

As she came down from her high, twitches and aftershock present, he carefully withdrew his fingers. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his hand smoothing over her hair. Another kiss came quickly, but not without Joe taking an expert taste of his own fingers, where Y/N’s honey coated him with a thick sheen. She tasted herself as he swirled his long tongue around hers, hand stroking back his hair to thread her fingers through the dark tendrils.

It was almost sad, kissing him in that moment. The way she gripped onto him as though she was solidifying how he felt in her mind, capturing the memory; they never knew the next time they’d get to be together.

“Joe…” Y/N whispered. “I need you… so bad.”

“I know, babygirl,” he sighed, peppering small kisses along her jaw. “But as much as I’d love for you to nut on this dick right now, it might be wiser to wait ‘til I can have you alone.”

She whimpered impatiently, making Joe stifle a laugh by burying his face in her neck. “Don’t make me laugh,” he murmured, clearly grinning.

“I’m not trying to…” she giggled softly, biting her lip. They really just did that, in the same room as their sleeping friends. Damn. “Fuck, Joe, we’re totally gonna get found out soon if we keep this up.”

“Yeah?” he asked, lifting his head to gaze down at her. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, baby.”

“Yeah, I’m sure everyone would love to know that you just fingered me a metre away from their sleeping bodies.”

“They will know if you don’t keep it down,” he chuckled. “That bein’ said, we should probably try and get some sleep, huh?”

Y/N frowned, but reluctantly nodded, knowing he would have to leave her bed and return to his spot on the floor. “Where are we heading in the morning?”

“Uh,” Joe hummed, carefully pulling himself back up into a seated position. “Atlanta, I think.”

“Sit next to me on the bus?” she half-asked.

“You sure you wanna do that? Y’know… considering we’re ‘totally gonna get found out soon’?” He sent her a cocky smirk, silently moving himself back to the floor. She rolled over to the edge of the bed so she could still see him. 

“I don’t care… I’ve missed you,” she told him earnestly. It was true; they really hadn’t seen as much of each other lately, which is ironic when you consider the fact they were currently on the road. It just meant eyes were on them more than usual. 

With an understanding exhale, Joe reached over and held the side of her face, stroking over her cheek with his thumb. “I’ve missed you too, baby.”

“So sit with me tomorrow, please,” she practically begged, leaning into his touch.

“I’m not sayin’ no, am I?” he answered with a soft laugh. “Now, go to sleep, ‘kay? It’ll be more suspicious if we’re both tired.”

“Yes, Dad,” Y/N playfully retorted, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll remind you you called me that, as well.”

“I’m sure you fucking will, Big Dog.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Morning crept into the room with the soft glow of dawn filtering through the thin curtains. The peaceful quiet of the night gave way to the gentle sounds of stirring bodies and muffled groans of discomfort.

“Ugh, my back,” Jon complained, rolling over on the cramped armchair. “Why did I think sleeping on here was a good idea?”

“Because you’re an idiot,” Colby mumbled, pulling Becky closer to him. “Pass me that pillow, will ya?” Becky groaned, grabbing the pillow that had fallen off Gi’s bed in the middle of the night, and flinging it back in Colby’s direction.

Gi, still half-asleep, rolled over and bumped into Mercedes, who let out a sleepy groan. “Move over, you bed hog,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow she hugged tightly.

“When did you get there?” Gi mumbled, squinting her eyes as she searched for her glasses somewhere in the bed, realising she must have passed out with them on. 

“When I decided the corner was too damn uncomfortable,” Mercedes bluntly responded.

Y/N slowly opened her eyes, the events of the night playing on a loop in her mind, extended into a pleasurable dream. She sat up, eyes adjusting to the daylight as she surveyed the room. No Joe, just a messy blanket and his balled up jacket from where he had slept. 

“Ahh!” Mercedes let out a yelp as the hotel door began to open, almost hitting her in the process. “Oh, it’s you—what the fuck, man?”

“Sorry, didn’t realise your stupid ass was standin’ in the way,'' Joe's sleepy, but cheery laugh echoed as he emerged, shutting the door behind him. He’d changed his clothes, now wearing his grey shorts and a hoodie, and his hair was back to its pristine nature, perfectly slicked back into a bun.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Colby strained his neck from the floor to look up at him.

“My room? We have rooms, guys, did you know that?” he nudged Colby with his knee as he attempted to sit up. His next stop was Y/N’s bed, where he placed her keycard down on the table beside it, giving her a small smile. 

“You took my key?”

“I’ve been awake for, like, two hours. Needed to get out for a bit, take a shower, y’know,” he shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed to collect his stuff from the floor. He made a point to brush against Y/N’s arm as he did, making her bite back a smile. “You sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” she hummed with a nod. “You?”

“Better than expected,” he said, sending a smirk over his shoulder.

Across the room, Colby struggled to stand, stretching his arms above his head with an exaggerated yawn. “Alright, who’s up for breakfast?”

“Count me in,” Jon said, finally rolling off the armchair and onto the floor with a thud. “As long as it’s not cornflakes.”

Gi sat up, her hair a wild halo around her head. “Can we get coffee first? I need coffee.”

“Coffee sounds so good right now,” Mercedes agreed, brushing her fingers through her hair and rubbing at her neck. “And a chiropractor.”

By the time breakfast was had and everyone had dispersed back to their own rooms, Gi and Y/N started the gruelling task of packing what little they took out of their bags and tidying the room of empty cans and pizza boxes.

“They could have helped us,” Gi sighed as she tried to clumsily shove a pizza box into a trash bag.

“Joe offered,” Y/N shrugged, working on picking up cans and any other scraps of trash. Gi glanced up at her, narrowing her eyes with a cheeky smile.

“Did he?”

Y/N met her gaze, raising an eyebrow at her friend quizzically. “Yeah, he did. But he still had a fuckload left to pack, so I told him we could handle it.”

“Oh,” Gi simply hummed, a grin spreading across her face, unbeknownst to Y/N.

Y/N tried her utmost hardest to avoid eye contact after that, knowing that if she looked at Gi for too long, it would be impossible not to spill everything that happened. And after complaining to Joe herself about the possibility of anyone finding out about them, it would seem somewhat counterproductive and ironic on her end.

When the pair was ready to leave, their WhatsApp group chat dinging with confirmations of the same, Gi leaned over to Y/N as she opened their door.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N, about last night,” Gi started.

“Yeah?” Y/N answered as she shut the door behind them, the two of them now standing in the hallway. She caught glimpses of fresh-faced superstars that weren’t in their room last night, who took more pride in their night routines on the road than anything else, greeting them from afar with a warm smile.

“The next time you and Joe fool about, make sure we’re all actually asleep before you do.”

[bloodlineee1]

˜”°•.˜”°• Masterlist •°”˜.•°”˜

✯Welcome to the master list. Here, you'll find all my fics of your favs, from one-shots to series (coming soon). I hope you enjoy them!!

Request are always welcome!!!!

✯you MUST be 18+ to interact with my work!!!

✧.*

Roman Reigns

✎Your Mine

✎ Bratty behavior

✧.* Jey Uso

✎Give me my towel

✎"you gonna let me fuck you with this championship on baby?"

✧.* Jimmy Uso

✎you belong to me

✧.* Zilla Fatu

coming soon

✧.* Solo Sikoa

✎Falling for the wrong one

✧.*Jon Moxley

✎To my bestfriend

✧.* Tama Tonga

coming soon

[kayfabe-is-king]

Highlights from my very first AEW live show (spoiler free):

Justin Roberts finding out it’s my first show, coming over to chat with me and then giving me both a high five and fist bump.

Fangirling over Bryce Remsburg and him offering to take a picture with me (he was insanely kind).

Staring Ricochet in the eyes and screaming that he was bad at his job (it got such a rise from him, I did it the whole match).

My husband going, “Oh that’s why the lady in line had all that toilet paper. I was worried she knew something about the restroom situation that no one else did.”

The kid next to me swearing like a fifth generation sailor and throwing out top tier insults at the heels.

Literally everything about Will Ospreay - from chanting his name at the top of my lungs to him chatting with fans post match.

Getting to see Brody King’s entrance live and barking my head off for him.

Chatting with other fans around me (everyone in our section was fun and friendly) and exchanging theories. Most of them agreed John has been regularly referencing both the Old and New Testament. One thinks the PPV title “world’s end” will have more meaning in the scheme of the Death Riders angle.

Orange Cassidy taking the time to do selfies with everyone who stayed after taping ended. He truly gives back to the fans and jumped the railing to pose with a fan in a wheelchair. I cannot say enough good things about him and Will.

MxM Collection - I finally get the hype. They were a blast live.

My husband asking me if OC was cosplaying as Johnny Cage.

Yelling out “you deserve better” to Kip Sabian and him laughing. He is somehow even hotter in person.

Chanting “shots, shots, shots, shots” with every single person in the ballroom (including some staff).

All the love for Big Bill and his dance moves.

Kyle chewing every piece of scenery in sight while putting on a damn fine match.

Speaking of chewing scenery, the hubs was positively giddy about every single women’s match. Not just for the brawling (although he was amazed at how brutal they can be) but also for their high caliber scene chewing.

Slapping hands with: Toni Storm, Thunder Rosa, Private Party (and Marq letting us touch his tag belt), Danny Garcia, Alex Abrahantes and Komander.

Beast Mortos standing right next to me and roaring. Seriously I could have touched him but refrained.

My husband being concerned about PAC going outside (it was very cold) with wet hair. “He’ll catch his death from pneumonia.”

Accidentally touching Jon Moxley’s head (and apologizing profusely to Cheesecake for doing it only for him to hug me and say it’s fine).

How we all collectively decided to chuck our inhibitions out the window and chanted like nobody’s watching.

Seeing first hand how much fun all of the wrestlers were having too. Especially when the cameras were off.

Last but not least, the hubs taking most of the photos and videos so I could simply enjoy the show.

[albawrestling]

If anyone has been paying attention to the death riders story, I have been one of them (and although I know that nothing will happen in the end), I bring evidence and theories as to why and how Wheeler Yuta should betray Jon Moxley:

EVIDENCES:

Do I need to remind you of the moment when Wheeler Yuta was talking about Jay White and Jon Moxley wouldn't let him speak? Their faces weren't exactly pleasant.

On the following Dynamite, Wheeler Yuta "coincidentally" appears in the gauntlet match, where the winner will have a shot at the title. We thought it was to get Jarrett out of the way, but it could have been Claudio or PAC. Why Yuta? Allow me to suspect...

We've also seen more than once that Yuta hasn't been treated well by the group; Moxley forced him to go after Cassidy, and slapped him when he didn't want to. Facing all of Moxley's future opponents.

Neither Claudio, Pac & Marina have treated Yuta well. Pac when Yuta accompanied him vs Jay, Claudio getting angry with him when they still won, Marina when he was attacked with the chair, or when Yuta was attacked by Jay by Hangman & no one did anything..

In the interview with Nigel, Yuta said that if he was with them it was because he had no choice, that he did it for his own good, if he hadn't done it, we all know how it would have ended for him..

Also in the interview with Renee he made it clear that if there was someone who never let him down and who brought out the best in Wheeler Yuta, it was Jon Moxley (which would increase with a rivalry between them). He also said that Moxley gave him something to live for and also something to die for, and that he was prepared to see it through and fulfill his mission no matter what it takes (that last sentence is important to me).

We also can't miss his performance when one of the death riders is giving a promo either backstage or in the ring, where apart from doing absolutely nothing, he remains completely motionless without speaking and is always the last to leave.

Obviously, we can't forget the collision where Moxley shows up, shows respect, gives him the briefcase, and Yuta hesitates to attack his opponent with it. He also puts pressure on him to beat Adam. The way he hugs the briefcase seems suspicious to me.

In a promo, we hear Moxley say that Adam went to sleep in 2011 and woke up in 2025 in a world where animals are bigger, faster, stronger, meaner, smarter. But (and looking at Yuta), there are a lot of weak and pathetic creatures out there. (yuta's look).

THEORIES:

1- Do you remember what happened in both Full Gear and Worlds End? Yuta came out of nowhere and attacked both Cassidy and Jay with the Busaiku Knee, okay, (this theory only works if Moxley's opponent is credible enough to defeat him, Swerve? Who knows..

So, what if when the match is coming to an end, Marina distracts the referee so Yuya can attack Swerve and ends up attacking Moxley?

2- They lose the titles in the normal way, after all this they show us a backstage segment where both Claudio and PAC blame Yuta for having lost, at that moment Yuta can make the biggest face turn making Moxley

3- The one I like the most of all: Yuta betrays Moxley (both in Dynasty), and that leaves me two options for DoN.

- Yuta betrays Mox causing him to lose the title, we have a match for DoN, Marina helps Yuta win by making Moxley turn face (although I'm not convinced about Yuta heel and Mox face)

- Yuta betrays Moxley but still retains, we have a match for DoN and they help Mox or Yuta loses.

What's my opinion on all this? Aside from the fact that I don't think anything I said will end up happening tonight (I hope so), I think it will end up happening sooner rather than later.. Maybe all in? I'm 100% sure that Wheeler Yuta is doing all this so that the Death Riders believe that they have him on their side, some attitudes and actions make it very clear to me, I also think that the fact that he lets his hair grow has a lot to do with it too. I also think that lets his hair grow has a lot to do with it too, I think he's doing it to hide his true features, and so that no one but him knows what he feels and that he will return to his true look once he separates himself from the Death Riders.

I know nothing will end up happening even though Dynasty is on April 6th (just when it marks 3 years since Wheeler Yuta joined the formerly known as BCC), and in his home, Philadelphia.

But a girl can dream.

[honeydippedfiction]

Bond Beyond The Ring

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Requested by @wrestlingbaby

The match was over, and the roaring crowd was a chorus in Y/N’s ears. She leaned against the ropes, chest heaving as she caught her breath, her body still vibrating with the thrill of combat. The spotlight warmed her skin as she glanced around the arena, taking in the sea of cheering fans. They chanted her name, a sound that filled her with pride and gratitude. 

Sliding out of the ring, Y/N slapped hands with the front-row fans, flashing her signature smile despite the ache in her muscles. The walk to the back was a familiar one, but it never felt routine. Every night in All Elite Wrestling was a new chapter, a new chance to prove herself. 

Backstage, she didn’t have time to dwell on the match’s highs or lows because she knew exactly what waited for her—a burst of laughter and camaraderie with her closest friend in the business, Anthony Bowens. 

Anthony Bowens was sprawled out on one of the benches in the locker room, his long legs stretched out in a way that made it clear he had no intention of moving anytime soon. His phone rested loosely in one hand, but the mischievous grin on his face gave him away—he was already planning some kind of retort or comeback. Y/N approached with the energy of someone who had too much adrenaline left after a match, her phone held high like a championship belt.   

“Alright, Bowens. TikTok time,” she declared with mock authority, dropping down beside him so forcefully that the bench creaked under her weight.   

Bowens groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Haven’t you humiliated me enough this week? My dancing is a public hazard at this point.”   

“Humiliated you?” she shot back, her tone dripping with mock indignation. “Please. I’ve made you go viral. You should be thanking me. You’re welcome, by the way.”   

She was already scrolling through her app, her face lighting up as she landed on a trending dance. “Oh, this is the one,” she said, pointing at the screen like it held the secret to eternal life. Her excitement was contagious, and Bowens couldn’t help but laugh.   

“Again with the dancing?” he said, slowly getting to his feet with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re gonna kill my knees before I’m thirty.”   

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” she quipped, standing next to him and pulling him into frame. “Now stop whining and hit this pose.”   

“Pose? What is this, modeling school?” Bowens teased, but he mirrored her stance anyway, a playful grin tugging at his lips.   

As they began stumbling through the choreography, their laughter filled the room, a perfect counterpoint to the sterile hum of the overhead lights. Y/N’s expression was a mix of concentration and exasperation as she kept pausing the music to critique Bowens’ steps.   

“No, no, no! You’re too stiff, Anthony. You have to loosen up!” she said, shaking her arms wildly to demonstrate.   

“Loosen up?” he repeated, attempting to mimic her movement but looking more like a malfunctioning robot. “This is as loose as I get, Y/N!”   

“You’re impossible!” she shouted through her laughter, doubling over as Bowens broke into a ridiculous freestyle, making exaggerated moves that were nowhere close to the choreography.   

Nearby, the Blackpool Combat Club sat, their presence heavy and still, like storm clouds gathering in a bright sky. Wheeler Yuta’s hands froze over the laces of his boots, his brow furrowing as he watched the scene play out. Jon Moxley leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set in a hard line. Bryan Danielson exchanged a glance with Claudio Castagnoli, whose expression was unreadable, though the tension in his posture spoke volumes.   

“Why don’t they just rent a comedy stage?” Mox muttered under his breath, his gravelly voice barely audible.   

Bryan shrugged, but his lips thinned as he looked away from the pair. “They’re at it again.”   

Wheeler glanced up, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’ve been at it for weeks.”   

Y/N and Bowens were too caught up in their antics to notice the simmering tension a few feet away. She clapped her hands in triumph as they finally nailed the last step, spinning to check their reflection in the camera.   

“See? Told you we could pull it off!” Y/N exclaimed, nudging Bowens with her shoulder.   

He rolled his eyes, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna need a chiropractor after this, but sure, we pulled it off.”   

The two dissolved into laughter again, their bond as easy and natural as breathing. But in the corner, the Blackpool Combat Club sat in heavy silence, their presence a shadow that loomed over the bright moment. None of them said another word, but their tension spoke volumes. 

Wheeler Yuta’s hands froze mid-lace on his boots, the rhythm of his movements interrupted as the sound of Y/N and Anthony Bowens’ laughter echoed across the locker room. His jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the laces as if the tension in his chest had traveled to his hands. He glanced toward them, his lips pressing into a hard line.   

A few feet away, Jon Moxley leaned back against the wall, his broad shoulders resting against the cold steel lockers. His arms were crossed over his chest, the veins on his forearms prominent as he gripped his biceps tightly. His scowl deepened with every burst of laughter that erupted from the pair. His ice-blue eyes flicked toward them briefly before darting away, as if the sight alone was an irritant.   

Claudio Castagnoli sat at the end of a bench, his massive hands resting on his thighs. The tension in his posture was evident—his normally relaxed demeanor replaced with a stiffness that seemed uncharacteristic. He caught Bryan Danielson’s eye, and the brief glance they exchanged was heavy with unspoken frustration.   

“They’re at it again,” Wheeler muttered under his breath, breaking the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried a sharp edge, the kind of bitterness that lingers after being sidelined one too many times.   

Bryan’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment, his lips twitching as if he were holding back something he’d regret saying out loud. His expression was thoughtful but tense, his brows furrowed just enough to betray his annoyance. Finally, he shook his head, exhaling slowly. “She’s been glued to him for weeks,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with a note of disappointment.   

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and loaded.   

Moxley, ever the one to cut through the silence, let out a low, gruff sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a growl. “Too busy making videos to remember who brought her into the fold,” he said, his tone sharp, cutting.   

His words hit the air like a thrown gauntlet, and Claudio shifted slightly, the bench creaking under his weight. His expression was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw and the flicker in his dark eyes gave him away.   

“She doesn’t see it,” Wheeler added, almost to himself, as if he were trying to make sense of it all.   

Bryan let out another sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the lockers. “She doesn’t see it because she’s too busy... laughing, dancing, being everywhere except here.”   

Jon pushed off the wall slightly, his presence as commanding as ever despite his stillness. “She’s one of us,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “She’s supposed to have our backs.”   

There was no response to that—not from Bryan, not from Claudio, not from Wheeler. Instead, the four of them sat in silence, their collective frustration and hurt simmering just beneath the surface.   

In the distance, Y/N and Bowens’ laughter echoed again, oblivious to the storm brewing in the corners of the locker room. To Y/N, it was another lighthearted moment, but to the Blackpool Combat Club, it was a painful reminder of what they felt they’d lost.   

I didn’t see it at first.   

When I look back now, I wonder how I missed the way the atmosphere shifted, how the weight of the room seemed to change as soon as I walked in. The Blackpool Combat Club—Jon, Bryan, Claudio, Wheeler—had always been my foundation. They weren’t just a team; they were my brothers. My safe haven. No matter what the day threw at me, I knew they’d have my back.   

But lately, stepping into the locker room felt like walking into enemy territory.   

It was subtle at first. Jon wouldn’t even glance in my direction half the time. The man who had been a gruff but constant source of support, who had always made a point of acknowledging me—even if it was just with a muttered “Good match” or a nod—acted like I didn’t exist. His icy indifference cut deeper than I wanted to admit.   

Wheeler was worse. He didn’t just ignore me—he avoided me. Conversations that used to flow easily between us now felt strained or nonexistent. If I tried to talk to him, he’d mumble something, barely looking up from whatever he was doing, his eyes fixed on his boots or the floor as if I wasn’t worth the effort.   

And Claudio... Claudio was the one I thought would never change. He was warmth personified, a calming presence in a world that was often chaotic. But even he had grown distant. Conversations that used to come with his easy, genuine smile were now brief and clipped, his tone neutral at best, cold at worst.   

Then there was Bryan. Bryan, who I had always seen as the glue that held us together, the one who could talk us through any conflict, had simply shut me out. No eye contact. No words. Just... silence.   

It stung more than I was willing to admit.   

At first, I told myself it wasn’t personal. They were just tired. We all were. The grind of wrestling wasn’t for the faint of heart. The endless matches, the brutal travel schedules, the constant pressure to improve—to be better, faster, stronger—it could wear anyone down. Maybe they were just overwhelmed.   

But then, the little things began to add up. The glares I caught from the corner of my eye. The way conversations stopped as soon as I walked into the room. The pointed silence that seemed to wrap around me like a cloak. And the worst part? The way they’d close ranks. It was subtle but deliberate, their body language shifting to make it clear that I wasn’t part of the circle anymore.   

It was like I’d been pushed to the outside, watching as they locked themselves away in a place I couldn’t reach.   

That’s when I knew something was wrong. This wasn’t just fatigue. This wasn’t just the wear and tear of the road. This was different.   

And it hurt. It hurt more than I wanted to admit, because no matter what, I still cared about them. They weren’t just my teammates. They were my family. Or at least, they had been.   

Now, I wasn’t so sure.   

Y/N tried to bridge the gap, but every attempt felt like throwing a pebble against a brick wall. No matter how hard she tried, nothing seemed to break through.   

One evening, after a particularly grueling match, she decided to try again. Claudio was sitting on the bench, his massive frame hunched over as he scrolled through his phone. He was always the most approachable, the one who could soften even the toughest situations. If anyone was willing to talk, it would be him.   

She leaned casually against the lockers, keeping her tone light. “Hey, Claudio, want to grab food after the show? I heard there’s a great spot nearby.”   

For a second, she thought he might smile or at least look up, but he didn’t. His eyes stayed glued to his phone, his thumb idly scrolling as if she hadn’t spoken at all.   

“No, I’m good,” he said finally, his voice flat, devoid of the usual warmth she had come to count on.   

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. She forced a laugh, trying to mask the sting. “Alright, maybe another time,” she said, her words hanging awkwardly in the air.   

Claudio didn’t respond, didn’t even nod. The silence that followed was louder than any rejection.   

Y/N swallowed hard, her smile faltering as she pushed off the lockers and turned away. She hadn’t made it far when she spotted Bryan Danielson walking down the hallway, his stride purposeful as always. If anyone understood the importance of communication, it was Bryan. He’d been the mediator in countless tense moments before.   

She quickened her pace to catch up with him. “Bry,” she called out, her voice a mix of hope and determination. “What do you think about—”   

“Not now,” he cut her off sharply, not even breaking his stride.   

Y/N froze mid-sentence, her words dying in her throat. She stood there, stunned, as Bryan disappeared around the corner without so much as a backward glance.   

Her heart sank, a dull ache spreading through her chest. She had always prided herself on being strong, on rolling with the punches no matter what. But this? This was different. This wasn’t an opponent in the ring, a challenge she could overcome with sheer grit or determination. This was her family, shutting her out without explanation, and it was tearing her apart.   

She stayed rooted in the hallway for a moment longer, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield against the cold indifference that had just been hurled her way. No matter how hard she tried to bridge the gap, it seemed to widen with every step.   

The breaking point came after a show in Chicago.   

It had been a long night—a sold-out crowd, an adrenaline-filled match, and a post-show buzz that should have left me on a high. Instead, I found myself pacing the hallways backstage, my frustration bubbling over with every step. I couldn’t take it anymore. These weren’t just coworkers—they were my family. The people who’d picked me up after losses, celebrated my wins, and stood by my side through the chaos of life in wrestling.   

If I’d done something to hurt them, they owed it to me to say it.   

Determined, I turned a corner and saw them in the locker room, just like always. Jon sat at the center, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his intense eyes fixed on the floor as if deep in thought. Bryan stood near the lockers, arms crossed, his face unreadable but tense. Claudio and Wheeler were seated across from each other, their postures stiff, their expressions a mix of discomfort and something I couldn’t quite place.   

The sight of them huddled in quiet conversation—so close-knit, so locked in—lit a fire in my chest. They looked like a fortress, impenetrable, and for the first time, I realized I wasn’t inside those walls anymore.   

I didn’t hesitate. I stormed into the room, the sound of my boots on the floor breaking their quiet.   

“Alright,” I said, my voice sharp and unwavering. “What the hell is going on?”   

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and all four heads turned toward me.   

Jon’s expression shifted immediately, his jaw tightening as his blue eyes narrowed. Bryan’s arms stayed crossed, but his posture stiffened, a flicker of unease crossing his face. Claudio glanced at Wheeler, who looked away quickly, his hands fidgeting in his lap.   

“What are you talking about?” Moxley asked, his tone flat but carrying that edge of irritation he always had when something—or someone—rubbed him the wrong way.   

I took a step forward, refusing to let them dismiss me. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I shot back, my voice rising. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. Acting like I don’t exist. Did I do something? Because if I did, I’d really like to know.”   

Jon leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable but cold. “Nobody’s ignoring you,” he said, the words clipped, like he was trying to shut the conversation down before it could even start.   

“Bullshit,” I said, the anger in my voice catching even me off guard. “Don’t lie to me, Jon. I’m not stupid. You’ve all been avoiding me, treating me like some outsider. And for what? If I did something, just say it. Don’t play this silent game with me.”   

The room went silent. The tension was so thick I could feel it pressing against my chest, making it harder to breathe.   

Bryan shifted, uncrossing his arms and exhaling slowly. Claudio looked down at his hands, and Wheeler wouldn’t even meet my eyes. Jon, however, stayed locked on me, his gaze unwavering, his lips pressing into a tight, thin line.   

“What’s it gonna be?” I asked, my voice softer now but no less firm. “Talk to me. Or is shutting me out the only thing you’re good at these days?”   

For a moment, no one said a word, the weight of my challenge hanging heavy in the air. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for someone—anyone—to break the silence. 

The silence was deafening, stretching across the room like a tangible force. It pressed against Y/N’s chest, suffocating in its intensity. Every pair of eyes seemed to avoid hers, save for Jon Moxley, whose steely gaze finally lifted to meet her.   

Moxley stood, his movements deliberate, his posture rigid as if his body carried the weight of unspoken words. His stare was piercing, cutting through the room with an edge that made Y/N straighten her shoulders instinctively.   

“It’s not about what you did,” he said at last, his voice low and gravelly, each word deliberate and measured. “It’s about who you’ve been spending all your damn time with.”   

Y/N blinked, the accusation hitting her like a slap she hadn’t seen coming. Her brows furrowed, confusion knotting in her chest. “What are you talking about?”   

“Bowens,” Wheeler Yuta muttered from his seat, his tone sharp, laced with bitterness. His hands fidgeted in his lap, but his eyes finally darted up to meet hers, his frustration clear. “It’s like we don’t even matter to you anymore.”   

The words sank deep, and for a moment, Y/N was too stunned to respond. Her jaw tightened as she struggled to process what he’d just said.   

Bryan Danielson let out a heavy sigh, his arms dropping to his sides as he stepped forward slightly. He wasn’t as blunt as Jon, nor as young and raw as Wheeler, but there was an unmistakable weariness in his voice when he spoke. “You’re always with him, Y/N. Always laughing, making videos, goofing off. Meanwhile, we’re over here—trying to focus, trying to keep this team together—and it feels like you’ve moved on.”   

Moved on?   

The words echoed in her head, stinging like an accusation she hadn’t prepared to defend against. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She stared at Bryan, at Wheeler, and finally at Moxley, whose intense glare hadn’t wavered.   

“You think I’ve moved on?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her tone a mix of disbelief and hurt. “You think I don’t care about you anymore?”   

“You don’t act like it,” Wheeler shot back, his voice quieter now but no less cutting. “You’re always with him. Every time we turn around, it’s Bowens this, Bowens that. TikToks, jokes, laughs—you don’t have time for us anymore.”   

Claudio Castagnoli, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke up, his deep voice calm but firm. “We’re not saying you can’t have other friends, Y/N. But... you used to spend time with us. Talk with us. Lately, it’s like we’re the last people on your mind.”   

Y/N looked around the room, her gaze moving from face to face. Each of them wore different expressions—anger, disappointment, frustration—but the common thread between them all was pain. They felt abandoned.   

“I can’t believe this,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “You’re jealous. All of you.”   

Jon’s jaw clenched at the word, his glare sharpening. “It’s not jealousy,” he said, his tone dangerous, his voice lowering even further. “It’s loyalty. We’re supposed to be a team. Family. But it feels like we’re the family you forgot about.”   

His words hit like a hammer, cracking through the remaining layers of her composure. Y/N stood there, her heart pounding, as the silence returned, heavier than before. 

For a moment, all I could do was stare at them, my mind struggling to catch up with what I’d just heard. Jealousy. That’s what this was.   

They were jealous.   

A disbelieving laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it, the sound sharp and brittle in the tense room. “You’re kidding me,” I said, my voice rising as I looked from face to face. “You’re mad because I’ve been hanging out with Anthony?”   

Jon crossed his arms over his chest, his glare unwavering, while Wheeler shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Claudio’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t respond. But then he spoke, his voice even but undeniably tense.   

“Not mad,” he said, though the clipped tone betrayed him. “Just... frustrated.” His dark eyes finally met mine, and there was something there—something raw and unguarded that made my stomach twist. “You used to be with us all the time. Now it feels like we’re the last people on your mind.”   

His words hit harder than I expected, cutting through the disbelief that had been building in me.   

I opened my mouth to argue, to fire back with something defensive—maybe even sarcastic. But the moment I really looked at them, the words died in my throat.   

Jon’s glare wasn’t just anger. It was layered with something deeper, something I hadn’t noticed before: hurt. Bryan, who always wore an air of calm rationality, looked away when my gaze met his, as if he couldn’t bear the weight of the conversation. Claudio’s expression was tight, his usual warmth replaced by quiet disappointment. And Wheeler...   

Wheeler looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. His hands fidgeted nervously, and his lips pressed into a thin, uncertain line. But it was the look in his eyes—an almost childlike mixture of frustration and sadness—that made my chest ache.   

Suddenly, it didn’t feel so ridiculous.   

They weren’t just mad. They weren’t just frustrated. They were hurt.   

And the worst part? They had a reason to be.   

Y/N took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she steadied herself. Her voice softened, no longer defensive, but filled with the sincerity she hoped they’d hear.  

“You guys are my family,” she said, her tone firm but warm, her eyes moving from one face to the next. “You’ve always been my family. That hasn’t changed, and it never will. Just because I’ve been spending time with Anthony doesn’t mean I care about you any less. You’re my people—always have been, always will be.”  

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. Y/N wasn’t sure what kind of reaction to expect. For a moment, no one spoke, the room still thick with the weight of unresolved emotions.  

Then, Moxley broke the silence with a low grunt. He leaned back against the bench, his posture relaxing slightly, the tension in his broad shoulders melting away. A smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he glanced up at her.  

“Well,” he muttered, his voice as gravelly as ever, “maybe next time, include us in one of those TikToks. Could use a little of that spotlight you’ve been hogging.”  

Y/N’s eyes widened in mock surprise, her lips twitching into a grin. “You? Dancing? Now that’s something I’d pay to see.”  

The tension cracked, like ice breaking under the warmth of the moment. Bryan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if the thought of Moxley dancing was too absurd to picture. Wheeler snorted, his fidgeting hands finally stilling, while Claudio let out a hearty laugh, his deep voice echoing in the small room.  

“Don’t underestimate me, Y/N,” Mox said, his smirk growing into a full grin. “I’ve got moves.”  

“You’ve got something,” Bryan chimed in, his voice teasing but light. “Not sure if it qualifies as dancing, though.”  

The room erupted into laughter, the sound genuine and full of relief. The air that had been so thick with tension just minutes ago now felt lighter, almost buoyant. It wasn’t perfect—there were still things left unsaid, moments to work through—but the rift between them had begun to mend.  

Y/N shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips as she took a seat on the bench beside them. For the first time in weeks, the distance she’d felt between herself and the Blackpool Combat Club seemed to shrink, replaced by the familiar camaraderie she’d missed so much.  

Because in the world of wrestling, bonds weren’t just forged in the ring. They were tested and strengthened in the moments in between—in the fights, the misunderstandings, and the reconciliation that followed.  

And no matter what, the Blackpool Combat Club always found their way back to each other. 

[south-of-heaven]

jon moxley x fem!reader and “ for the love of god, stop putting yourself in these situations!”?

Skewers || Jon Moxley x Reader

Summary: You're on the AEW medical team. Your boyfriend is a frequent flyer, so to speak.

Your day in the AEW medical room had been relatively ordinary until the door banged open, and there he was, Jon Moxley, AEW's resident daredevil, covered in blood and skewers sticking out of his head. For a moment, you were utterly speechless.

You quickly snapped out of your shock and rushed to his side. The training you had for moments like this kicked in as you began to carefully remove the skewers, examining him for any further injuries. Your hands were steady, your focus unwavering, but behind your professional demeanor, you were fuming.

Jon tried to chuckle, but it came out more like a pained grunt as you worked on him. "This didn't really go as planned."

Once the skewers were removed and Jon's wounds were cleaned, you finally let out a heavy sigh and couldn't contain your frustration any longer. "Jon, for the love of God, stop putting yourself in these situations! You're going to end up dead one of these days, or even better, giving me a heart attack."

He winced as you stitched up the small wounds, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I know, babe. But come on, usually I'm not even on the receiving end of shit like this."

You shot him a stern look. "It's not about wether it's on purpose or not, Jon. It's about taking care of yourself, and us."

He nodded, looking contrite. "You're right. I'll be more careful next time. I promise."

You finished tending to his injuries, satisfied that he was now patched up. "Good. I can't keep patching you up like this."

Jon leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft against yours. "Thanks, baby. I appreciate everything you do."

You smiled, leaning your forehead against his. "Just promise you'll take better care of yourself."

Jon chuckled, a bit of his usual swagger returning. "Alright, alright. I'll try to avoid skewers to the head."

As you looked into his eyes, you hoped he would keep that promise, not just for his own safety but for the peace of mind it would bring to both of you.

[livsbrutalitys-blog]

MASTERLIST AND RULES

Hi guys I’m a new writer here on tumblr and I already have some stuff written and I can’t wait to share them with you! Here are the things/people i write for so if you have any request lmk!

➰-smut ✔️- fluff ➿-angst

• WWE

- Rhea Ripley

homecoming✔️

series

Unfinished business ➿

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 part 4

one shots

rhea ripley x fem!reader ➰

ex!rhea x fem!reader ➿

homecoming ✔️

- Dominik Mysterio

- Damian Priest

one shots

damian priest x fem!reader ✔️

untitled w fem!reader✔️

enemies to lovers?Damian priest x fem!reader ➿

- Becky Lynch

- Bayley

- Sasha Banks/ Mercedes Moné

- Liv Morgan

- Dolph Ziggler

- Drew Mcintyre

- Roman Reigns

one shots

roman reigns x fem!reader

- Jey Uso

- Jimmy Uso

- Trick Williams

- Carmelo Hayes

- Wes Lee

- Roxanne Perez

- CM Punk

- AJ Lee

- Nikki Bella

- Brie Bella

- Dean Ambrose/Jon Moxley

- Baron Corbin

- Shayna Baszler

RULES

Here are some things I WILL NOT write about.

- p3dophillia

- n3crophilia

- inc3st

- non-con (cnc i will but nothing where one party is non-consensual/r@pe)

- any kind of bodily fluid play (bl00d is fine but no golden showers or anything like that)

[wrestlingisfake]

I've seen a lot of discontent about the main event finish at Dynasty, so let me put in my two cents.

Jon Moxley won the men's world title in October and right away I thought: 1) This is like the NWO, 2) Mox will hold the belt hostage for months, crushing all the babyfaces, 3) One babyface will rise up to finally defeat him, 4) That will be a huge moment for a big show, 5) AEW is running a stadium show in July.

I'm not saying that I know Moxley will drop the title at All In. The point is, the past six months have gone about like I expected. Mox started off indomitable and, slowly but surely, the babyfaces have chipped away at him. It's reached a point where he only retained against Swerve because the Young Bucks of all people made the save--essentially he's getting by on luck now. He's getting more and more vulnerable, and July 12 is closer and closer.

I appreciate people wanted Swerve to win. Hell, I like Swerve a lot, I would be fine with him being The Guy to shut down the Death Riders and win the world title. But I stopped thinking Swerve might be The Guy when he got the title shot in April instead of July. It'd be like building to Roman Reigns vs. Cody Rhodes at Wrestlemania, and having Roman drop the title two months before to LA Knight at the Royal Rumble. That wouldn't be bad, but it would only make sense if you just really fuckin' love LA Knight.

Obviously a lot of AEW fans just really fuckin' love Swerve (or Orange, or Jay, or Hangman, or Copeland, or Christian, etc.), so there's been a lot of disappointment over the past six months. I'm not saying you shouldn't get disappointed. We're supposed to get mad when the heel beats the babyface. But when you get mad enough to complain about it as a business decision (i.e., AEW's creative is bad, Tony Khan doesn't listen to fans) then you have to set aside your fan perspective and look at the business factors objectively. And from a business perspective, "heel world champion beats everybody, then loses at the biggest show of the year" is a very reliable strategy.

To be fair, we've seen "what's best for business" and "let it play out" used to justify a lot of terrible storylines. "Best for business" became a literal on-screen heel catchphrase during Randy Orton's WWE title run in 2013-2014. I complained a lot about that at the time, and I'll still argue every step of that story made no sense in terms of real-world storytelling or business decisions. So I think it's valid to apply the same kind of criticism to AEW, and I have. But it's silly to say Tony Khan doesn't know what he's doing, simply because I wanted something to happen and he didn't do it.

[thlayli-ra]

That list of whump prompts you’re using for the ficlet requests is so long and varied, I love it. I have so many evil thoughts swimming around in my head but the first thing that floated to the top for me was gunshot, beacause woah, that could be so interesting.

Then I tried to come up with a pairing and I immediately went to Dick Rick and Jon Moxley, HWA days you know, because god knows what they were getting up to in their spare time living together. I don’t have a preference for who is getting shot but I would prefer if it wasn’t shown or implied that they died. On all other fronts, go nuts. Do what you feel.

Good luck with the tricks and treats!!

I was SO excited to do this prompt!!! So thank you so much for sending it my way Tagz - hope you enjoy it!

(Note - I couldn't call him Dick Rick with a straight face so he's referred to as Shaun in the ficlet 😂)

Trick - 'Gunshot'

Characters - Shaun Ricker/Dick Rick, Jon Moxley

Rating - Teen and up

Warnings - Gunshot wound, threat of violence, internalised homophobia

The hour was late but the night still young. Shaun had a pleasant buzz going and a smug grin on his face. The pretty little thing at the bar he'd been working his charm on was giving him goo-goo eyes back, and who could blame her? Nobody could resist his boyish smile, his smooth-as-silk talk or, above all, the impressive pair of guns he had practically bursting out of his short shirt sleeves. So what, if he'd added a tiny sliver of baby oil to give him some extra shine? In these dingy nightclubs, he needed a little something to help his... personality shine through. In a literal sense.

'So,' the young lady tilted her head cutely to the side, sliding a finger down one of those very bulging biceps, 'you know, my place isn't far from here. You wanna come back, have a drink?' She leaned in close, may as well has sidled right into his lap. 'Get to know each other better?'

'Well, that sounds real nice, sweetheart,' Shaun placed his hand around her waist, coaxing her in, 'but I gotta warn ya. You're playing with fire but if you don't mind singeing those pretty, little fingers of yours then-'

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

'Oh, sorry about that,' Shaun picked his phone off the bar and cancelled the call from Moxley. Shoved it quickly into his back pocket. 'Now where were we?'

'You were about to give me an answer,' she fluttered her eyelashes cutely.

'Thaaat's right, I was,' Shaun grinned. 'How's this for an answer?' His large hand cupped the back of her head and tempted her towards him, their lips meeting in the middle. Soon, she was groaning against his tongue and he quirked his brows. He knew it, she knew it, everybody knew it. He was irresistible, like he had some kind of animal magnetism, some kind of... undeniable-

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Go away, Moxley!

He let it ring out. Turned his full attention back onto the cutie linking her slender fingers in his thick ones and guiding them to her upper thigh so he could-

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Goddamit, Moxley!!!

The pretty thing pulled back abruptly. 'Uh Shane?' she said with a cocked brow. Took him a beat to realise she meant him.

'Yeah, Jess?'

'It's Carly, actually. And you're buzzing.'

Yeah, yeah, don't I know it! 'I'll be right back,' he said with an apologetic grimace. 'Don't you dare go anywhere, alright toots?'

'I'll be waiting,' she replied breathily, stroking her hand down her stunning cleavage, making Shaun groan with want as he forced himself to walk away and call his irksome room mate. Jon Moxley answered within the first ring.

'Shaun...?'

'You'd better have a damn good excuse for cock-blocking me, man,' Shaun grumbled down the phone. He was answered by a pain-filled grunt. Shaun's brow furrowed. 'Hey, you alright? What's the matter?'

'I need you to come find me.'

He glanced around the club, trying to find his fellow wrestler. The pair of them had arrived together but now there was no sign of him. 'The hell are you?'

'Outside. Alley behind the hrrk club.'

'Right, hold on, hold on. I'm comin'.'

The pretty thing at the bar was immediately forgotten about as Shaun headed down the stairs, out the front doors, past the security guards, and the line waiting to get in, and the littering of patrons who'd had far too much and were now sprawled across the sidewalk - one nearly spewed on his shoes - and around the side of the building.

The narrow gap between the two buildings was dark and eerie. 'Mox?' Shaun called out timidly into the gloom. 'Mox? You there?' Nothing. So he made his way further in, ears pricked for any clues as to his roommate's whereabouts. 'Mox?'

'Over here.'

It came from around the corner. Picking up the pace, the wrestler followed the husky voice and eventually found the subject of his search. 'Holy shit,' he cursed, running towards his roommate who was sprawled against the far wall, panting and covered in bruises. 'The hell happened to you?'

'Ok, don't freak out on me here,' Moxley warned, 'but I've kinda, sorta... been shot.'

'Wait, WHAT?'

'I said not to freak out!'

'Where?' Shaun began to search over Moxley's limp body. 'Who the hell did this to-?' It didn't take him long to find it. One slight pull on his friend's jacket lapel and he found the gruesome trail of blood staining his white undershirt from his neck all the way down to his waist.

'Oh, shit...'

The creep had approached Moxley in the men's room. First red flag was that, despite there being plenty of free urinals, he chose the one directly beside him. The second was that he addressed him mid-flow.

'Hey.' The actual fuck? 'So that guy you came in with, you two buddies or something?'

Mox grunted a reply, finding his own prick suddenly lacking inspiration, leaving him hovering there awkwardly as the guy did not take the hint and kept on speaking.

'Cause he's who I think, right? I mean... I'm right, right?'

'The hell you on about, man?' he retorted, wishing for nothing more than the guy to shut the fuck up or at least for his piss to finally come so that he could get out of there.

'You know, the smug little shit? He's Dick Rick, right?' The mere mention of his roommate's ring name and Mox started to tense up, but then the guy added, 'from that porno wrestling website?'

Now he had the sandy blonde's full attention!

'Who's askin'?' he said with a snarl in his tone.

'Just a fan,' the creep replied cryptically, then leaned right into Mox's personal space and why the fuck was his prick suddenly acting like it was empty or blocked or something? 'So I am right? What's the deal then; you two fucking or what?'

'What?' He turned to face the stranger, his expression scary enough to make him back off an inch or two.

'Oh, no offence or anything, dude. I just saw you both and put two and two together.'

'I aint some queer!'

'Ok, ok, I'm sorry.' He turned back to his own stall and Mox hoped that was the end of it. Only it wasn't! 'But he is, right?'

'Far as I could see, he was flirting with some broad the whole night,' Mox bit back, failing miserably to hide the bitter edge to his words.

Oh, come on!' the creep scoffed. 'I know a 'beard' when I see one. I also know a twink when I see one! Those tiny little panties he squeezes himself into, just so he and some dude can get all hot and sweaty with one another, grabbing each other by the-'

Jesus fuck! I'll trade you my soul for just one single drop of piss right now so I can walk out that door! 'Look, man. Plenty of straight dudes do these kind of things. It's only another wrestling gig at the end of the day and it pays the bills.' Maybe, I should take him up on his offer some time seeing as I haven't got two cents to rub together.

'Yeah, yeah, man, whatever,' the guy gave himself a shake and Mox could finally see some light at the end of the tunnel. 'But you know, sometimes all these guys need is a little nudge to step out of the closet, know what I mean?'

No, now piss off! 'Sure guy, whatever you say.'

The creep finally left. The second the door swung shut and he was alone, his dick came to life. 'The hell happened to you?' he muttered down to his anatomy as it began to flow fast and hard, 'get stage fright or something? Jesus...'

But something about that guy in the men's room didn't sit well in his gut and for the rest of the evening he watched him closely. Good thing too, because the creep barely took his eyes off of Shaun the entire time, pretty much ignored the two other guys he was sitting with other than to point across at the wrestler sitting at the bar and whisper in his friend's ear. Once or twice, he even went up to the bar, practically brushed Shaun's shoulder with his own when he ordered his drink but the dark-haired man was too engrossed in his pretty lady friend to even notice and the so-called 'fan' walked away without saying a word.

Yet, the feeling of dread kept gnawing at Mox's gut and when he saw the guy whisper one last time in his friend's ear then get up to leave, he decided to follow him out, keeping a short distance behind him to not betray his intentions. Leaning against the wall outside to light a cigarette, the sandy blonde wrestler watched the creep out the corner of his eye as he walked a few paces down the street then ducked into an alley down the side of the building.

Mox narrowed his eyes, that gnawing in his gut biting in deeper. He dropped his untouched cigarette, squashed it underfoot then headed in the opposite direction, finding to his relief a similar alley down the other side of the nightclub. Carefully, he edged his way through the narrow, shadowy gap, an old familiar tightness in his lungs. The nerves of a pending fight, before the adrenaline had time to hit his system.

Peeking around the corner, he found the guy crouched in the darkest shadows, watching the door to the club like a hawk waiting for a mouse. The anger started blaring against Mox's eardrums right before he stepped out to sneak up on the creep. If he'd only waited a moment longer he would have noticed how the guy's hand was lodged deep into the lapel of his jacket...

'Is it bad?'

Shaun chewed the inside of his cheek, nervously, making Mox fear the worst. 'Take a deep breath,'he instructed.

Mox did as he was told and inhaled deeply, but it all came back straight out again though his gritted teeth when Shaun lifted his arm and tried to thread it through the sleeve of his jacket. His face twisted with agony, his lips turning the air blue until, after a lengthy struggle, his arm was finally freed from his sleeve and his roommate could properly inspect the grisly wound.

'Well?'

Shaun answered with a rush of air whistling through his lips.

'Well?'

'Just a flesh wound,' he answered, the relief shaking in his voice. 'Bullet caught you on your shoulder. Took a decent chunk out though, you'll need to go to the hospital so they can-'

'No!'

'Mox! You've just been shot in the goddamn arm!'

'No hospital. No doctors. I'm already behind on the rent, been eating boxed macaroni for weeks. I can't afford to get slapped with a huge medical bill on top of it all.'

As much as it didn't sit well with Shaun, he could understand the man's logic. He knew Mox had been relying on his paycheck from the show that night, but then the promoter had made some pathetic excuse, saying they would all get their cheques in the mail, which, all wrestlers knew, meant they wouldn't. Or, if by some miracle they did, then they'd just bounce.

'Fine,' he acquiesced. 'Then I'll take you over to Dave's - he could probably stitch you up.' Dave was a medic they knew from the circuit who lived in town. The kind of guy who never asked questions.

'Sounds good,' Moxley said and tried to get up when a firm hand on his chest pushed him back down.

'Nah-nah,' Shaun scolded, shaking his head.

'What? What's the big-' Suddenly, Moxley's snarky comment was murdered dead in his throat, his eyes nearly popping right out of their sockets at the sight of Shaun grabbing the collar of his own shirt and yanking it up over his head.

'I aint havin' you bleeding all over my car,' he explained, bunching the shirt up in his hands and pressing it down on the bloodied crevice. Mox went deathly pale, his whole body rigid as stone. All of a sudden, the pain no longer mattered. All that mattered was that his gorgeous room mate that he'd had a schoolboy crush on for several months now was virtually rubbing his Adonis-like, half-naked torso against him and he could smell the cologne Shaun was wearing, an intoxicating scent that made his eyes flutter with lust and he could feel his breath on his face and his fingers on his shoulder and, oh god, now he was looking right at him with those massive, blue eyes of his.

'So you gonna tell me how exactly you got yourself shot?' Shaun asked, raising a brow at the sandy blonde. Moxley shuffled awkwardly, lips and eyebrows twitching the way they always did when he got a little riled up.

'Got into a fight.'

'Well duh, I figured that much out. You wanna tell me why?'

More shuffling. More twitches. No, no he couldn't tell him. How could he tell him that he'd caught some pervert who'd seen his pornos waiting for him in a dark alley with a gun! The sight still haunted Mox and he couldn't stop imagining what might have happened if he hadn't listened to his gut.

And how could he explain that the thought of anybody hurting Shaun terrified him. Terrified him more than any other horror in the world possibly could and he didn't even really understand it himself because he hadn't lied in that men's room, he wasn't some queer. He wasn't! And even if he was, what did that mean? Didn't that change... everything?

Especially if the man he maybe, sorta, kinda, possibly loved wasn't some queer either? Just some straight guy taking on another wrestling gig to get another pay check?

'Guy was an asshole,' he mumbled out, eventually.

Shaun sighed with exasperation. 'You're an asshole! Now come on, take another breath.'

Getting to his feet sent a shockwave of pain down his whole body but it didn't matter, not when Shaun's arm wound tight around his waist to pull him in close to his warm, and still very much half-naked body. 'Keep applying pressure,' he instructed Mox as they began to hobble their way down the alley.

Before leaving, Mox kicked something away with his boot. A chunk of metal clanked its way into the hidden depths of the shadows. 'What was that?' Shaun asked.

'Nothing,' Mox shot back. 'Let's go.'

Least he'd taken that fucking gun off the creep, least he'd taught him a lesson he'd never forget, even after the bullet had taken a chunk out of his shoulder. Least that bastard would never even think of trying to hurt his roommate again.

For as long as he was here, by Shaun's side, he would do whatever it took to keep him safe.

[bisexual-kane]

One particularly obnoxious strand of bad AEW discourse is that Tony Khan is some kind of tyrant booker who forces wrestlers into spots/storylines/promos that are dangerous/uncomfortable.

(Kenny taking bumps Wednesday and Ospreay's shot at Triple H come to mind.)

I may be wrong, but at one time, AEW didn't really function like WWE where Vince dictated everything. Instead, wrestlers pitched their own ideas and Tony gave them a thumbs up or thumbs down.

It's kind of why a lot of WWE refugees like Andrade El Idolo felt like they didn't do much. Without Triple H/Vince dictating a story, what were they to do? Malachi Black in particular totally has the vibes of a guy who has really, really cool ideas--but they are ideas and not stories, so despite House of Black being heavily featured, it feels like they never do anything.

Meanwhile, The Elite (and all of their friends/hangers-on/dick riders) have spent a lot of time developing their own characters and improv skills through New Japan, ROH, PWG, and (I cannot emphasize this enough) BTE. Jon Moxley in particular when he bailed on WWE talked up a lot about how he wanted the freedom to improv promos and that he didn't need a script because that ain't wrestling to him. You can also see people like Christian Cage and Adam Copeland (and even Chris Jericho), who left WWE by choice who are really excited to be in AEW because they get a chance to flex creative muscles they didn't get to in WWE and they are doing really interesting and cool things.

(I mean, I know we are all sour on Chris Jericho right now in 2024, but Inner Circle Jericho was a really great heel champion.)

Again, I am totally just an outside fan who has no inner knowledge. But at least at one point, AEW was trying to be a more collaborative environment. Tony Khan has final say about what goes on the show, but the talent themselves are doing a lot of pitching the ideas about what ends up on it.

Like, Tony is not making Will Ospreay go out there and take shots at Triple H against his will. Stop making up a villain in your head, people. jeeze.