Request: Could you do an imagine where the reader is trying to help dean ambrose with his elbow since he got injured at raw but instead they have a fight with him being frustrated with his 9 month recovery ??
“Come on.” I pushed, “5 more babe, just 5 more. You got this.”
Using my body weight, i held on to one end of an exercise band while Dean pulled the other with his injured arm. I could see beads of sweat dripping down his face, his eyes glossy. He was frustrated. He could do this in his sleep and now it was the hardest thing in the world for him.
Dean had been in over 1000 matches. No sick days. No personal days. No medical leave despite desperately needing it. He’d had staples in his head. He’d had stitches all over. He’d been in chainsaw matches. Tacks. Glass. Barbed wire. 10 foot falls of cages. Cement. You name it, he never pussyed out.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t 20 years old anymore and he had finally pushed his body to the limit. Still, it wasn’t until he was told that it would be 9 months until he was back in the ring that it had hit him.
“I can’t.” He groaned deeply, still trying to get another curl in.
“Just like physical therapy.” I continued, holding my balance as he pulled the band.
When a tear slide down his cheek, he let go of the band, causing my to fall on my ass.
“I can’t. I can’t fucking do this. It’s useless!” He kicked over one of the chairs before sitting on the other, placing his head in his hands.
Sighing, I crawled between his legs grabbing his hand. I placed a soft kiss on it as I rubbed over the brace around his elbow.
“It’s not useless.” I reminded. “It’s making you stronger. Little by little every day.”
“Well it doesn’t fucking feel like it.” He stood again, pacing around the room. “It’s fucking impossible.”
“Dean you have to want this. You can’t just throw a fit because you’re not immediately back to 100%!” I replied, getting just as frustrated as him.
It had been two weeks since he’d started physical therapy. He was upset, yeah, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Everyone came back from this. He just had to trust his body.
“You think I don’t want this?!” He seethed, turning to face you. “You’re damn right I don’t want this! I don’t want to be out for 9 months. I don’t want to miss the rumble or miss Mania. I don’t want to sit in a fucking room struggling to pull on a band like some loser whose body is giving out on him. You’re fucking right that I don’t want this!”
“Listen to you!” I finally snapped. “Stop with all the woe-is-me! You’ve done so much fucked up shit to your body it was bound to happen. What? Did you think you were superman?! Did you think you were invisible? Did the cracks in your skull hinder your perception of reality?”
I knew I sounded harsh but he needed this reality check. He’d been moping around the house, cussing at everything, not listening to anyone. He had to get his shit together. For his own sanity, if not mine.
“You’re Dean – fucking – Ambrose. The man I fell in love with. That man won’t let something this small set him back. The man I know would push himself harder. The man I know would train himself smarter so that he did more damage to his opponent than himself. The man i know -”
“Well maybe you fell in love with the wrong fucking man!” He countered, yelling over me, his voice deep and face red with anger. “Maybe you should go find that man cause it ain’t me, anymore! I’ve got a bum arm. The hell am I supposed to do with this shit?!” He pointed at the brace. “What am I supposed to do if it never gets fixed huh? I don’t know anything else! Wrestling has been my whole life! What, I’m just supposed to become a GM? Or what – I’m supposed to train others? Fuck that!”
You sighed, lowering your head before looking at him with a smirk. “Well, if that fails, you look pretty good working with a hot dog cart.”
The statement caught him off-guard and a smile cracked his lips.
You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing small kisses across his chest. “Dean, baby – you’re going to get through this. I don’t want to fight with you, but I’m don’t let anyone talk bad about my man, and I’m not going to let you do it either.”
He smiled again, his body relaxing into mine, wrapping his good around around my waist, kissing the top of my head.
“You’re going to get through this babe.” You continued, reaching up on your toes to kiss him. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“I’ve never been out this long.” He sighed, sitting done on a bench, pulling you onto his lap. “I – I don’t know what to do with myself.”
You nodded, brushing his messy hair out of his face as you leaned your head over his. “You’re going to listen to your wife. You’re going to work your ass off. You’re going to go the physical therapy twice a day. You’re going to go back to ring training in two months. Then you’re going to make a badass comeback and kick that little Jason ‘Wanna-be Ambrose’ Jordan’s ass for thinking he could ever take your place.”
Finally he gave me a kiss, this time taking a more determined breath as he stood up again. “Alright, if that’s the plan than maybe, I do have 5 more in me.”
“That’s my lunatic.” You laughed, standing up to grab the band again.
Getting in position, he grabbed the other end before getting another curl in.
**GIFS not mine
Again – I’m sorry for the super long wait! I hope you enjoyed! As always – let me know if you have a request.