#aew fic

[sydsaint]

Slightly back from hiatus to post about my golden retriever boyfriend.

Summary: After getting cut open in his match against Kyle Fletcher, Will is confronted by his girlfriend backstage about his reckless behavior. But not even she is immune to his charms.

“You always have to push yourself.” You glare at your boyfriend while holding the bloody rag to his forehead. “Can’t just take a loss and let someone else win, can you?” You scold Will.

“And let a backstabbing twat like Kyle win?” Will scoffs at the very idea. “I had to beat him. And the cut isn’t even that bad, love.” He attempts to soothe your worry for him.

Not that it ever works.

You sigh and continue to press the rag to his forehead, waiting for the bleeding to stop. Ospreay’s face is already a sticky crimson mess. And yet, he’s still wearing that goofy grin that you fell in love with so long ago. It’s like nothing in this world can break that mans smile. And that’s why you love him so much.

“You look like a mess.” You sigh heavily at him, attempting to wipe some of the sticky blood away from his face.

“So no victory kiss, then?” Ospreay taunts you with a cheeky grin, waggling his eyebrows in an attempt to be seductive.

You scrunch your nose in disgust at his suggestion. “Wash your face first.” You demand. “Then you can have a kiss.”

“But, babe.” Will whines. “I want a kiss from my lovely girlfriend now.” He pouts, giving you those puppy dog eyes.

“No.” You cross your arms across your chest in defiance. “I am not kissing your nasty, sticky, bloody face.” You insist.

Will continues looking at you with those soft brown eyes of his, and like always, your resolve falters. “Ugh.” You sigh heavily and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before grimacing at the metallic taste it leaves in your mouth.

“Atta girl , lovey.” Will grins triumphantly.

“Jackass.” You grumble out a response, despite the smile breaking out on your face.

Will continues to grin smugly and wraps his arms around you, pulling you gently against his chest. “You love me.” He insists.

“Only a little.” You reply defiantly.

“A little?” Ospreay snorts. “Please, love. You’re obsessed with me. Almost as bad as all those fangirls.”

You scoff and flick his forehead, taking care not to hit the cut on it. “Am not.” You pout.

“Yes you are.” Will teases and kisses your cheek. “My beautiful, obsessed babydoll.”

“Your ego is getting too big.” You grumble and settle into his arms.

Will kisses your jaw gently before moving his mouth right next to your ear. “Ain’t the only thing above me that’s big, now is it, darling?” He teases

“Oh, shut up, Will.” You scoff to hide the light dusting of blush on your face.

“You love me.” Will grins “Come on, admit it, darling. ‘Ol Will Ospreay has captured your heart.”

You roll your eyes at his insistence, even though you know he’s right. You do love his annoying ass. Despite your protests.

“Yeah, I love you, moron.” You sigh and give in

“I love you, too, doll face.” Will kisses your cheek. “Now, clean me up before I have to go back out there and show that bloke, Okada, up.”

“Oh, so I’m your nursemaid now?” You scoff, already going back to wiping his face up despite your words.

Will chuckles and lets you clean up the blood remaining on his face for him. Once you’re done, he smiles up at you

“Well, do I look camera ready?” He asks you.

“You look like you need a bandage for your head.” You retort. “But your face is clean and camera ready, yes.” You sigh.

“Hey.” Will grabs your hand and brings it up to his face, lacing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll be careful. Promise.” He assures you.

You roll your eyes with a skeptical look. “Right I’ve heard that before.” You retort.

“I always came back to you, though. Don’t I, love?” Will counters.

“Yeah, yeah.” You sigh. “Be careful, But kick Okada’s ass, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Will salutes you teasingly. “Anything for my best girl.” He flashes a cheeky smile at you before heading off.

[cowboywritersworld]

Not a burden

General Masterlist | AEW Masterlist | Jay White Masterlist

Characters: Jay White, Reader, little girl, Renee Paquette

Plot: Reader is a single mother and a wrestler. She has a two years old little girl, who she has to bring always with her since the father has died when she was 5 months old and her family doesn't live in the States.

At work, when Reader has matches, Renee takes care of the little girl. That day, Reader's backstage segment runs longer, so Renee has to bring the little girl with her and when Reader finally comes back, Jay is entertaining her daughter.

A/N: divider by @strangergraphics.

@madhatterbri @5secondsofmoxley here we are, hope you enjoy it ❤️ I have more parts in mind for this.

Y/N gets off the taxi with her little daughter in her arms, taking then their bags and thanking the driver. Being a wrestler and a single mother sometimes is hard, but she has to do everything alone, given that the father is dead and her parents live in France.

"Mommy has an important match today, you are going to be a good girl with Auntie Renee, aren't you, little Peach?" She gently kisses her daughters forehead, putting her down when they get to security, to which she shows their badges.

"Will be a good girl!" Leonie smiled, holding her mother's hand with her tiny one.

"My perfect little peach."

Y/N takes her in her arms, walking to her locker room. The room is silent, no one is there and she sets her daughter down on a bench, starting to change into her ring gear and a sweatshirt.

Later she is set to win the Owen Hart Tournament and she is so excited about it. Sitting down, she starts to stretch to get warm, raising her head when she hears a knock on the door.

"I am sure it's auntie Renee. Can you please go open the door?" She asks her daughter gently, who nods enthusiastic at her.

"Sure mommy!" When Leonie got to the door she got on her tiptoes, carefully opening it. "Auntie Renee!" She hugs Renee's legs, which makes the woman giggle.

"Look who is here! My favorite little girl!" Renee takes her into her arms, smiling at Y/N.

"Hi Re. Thanks for helping me take care of her." Y/N stands up and gets Leonie's backpack to Renee.

"Oh, you know I love taking care of her! This precious little girl is so sweet and good." Renee ruffles Leonie's hair, chuckling when she protests.

"In case I should be late, you go with Re and sit still where she tells you, right Leonie?" Y/N kisses her daughter's forehead.

"Yes mommy."

Renee brings Leonie away, letting Y/N alone to finish getting ready and stretch a bit more. They both watch the match when it comes on, little Leonie cheering her mommy like her life depends on that. It is cute how much she loves wrestling and how supportive of her mother she is.

The little girl claps happily when her mommy wins, nuzzling tiredly against Renee. The interviewer kisses her forehead, looking at the clock for a moment: she had no more time and the celebration was going on longer that it should have.

"Leonie... I have an interview to make. You come with me and sit aside, waiting for Y/N, okay?" Renee asks very gently.

"Animals book?" At least she could do something while waiting.

"Sure!"

Renee rummages through her little backpack, from which she takes out the book. She walks hand in hand with Leonie, making her then seat on some crates at the side, making sure she wouldn't get filmed by the cameraman.

"Y/N will be here shortly, Leonie. I'll be where you can see me."

Renee smiles and opens her the book, before going to her spot to start the interview. Leonie sits there, looking interested at the little book, in awe. She loves animals and that one is her favourite book, even if she can't understand what is written on it. She lightly kicks her little legs, one of which hits the book and it falls on the ground.

The crate is high, Leonie tries to get down, but sighs frustrated and starts sobbing, making grabby hands towards it.

"Come on, you k-"

Jay White is walking by, talking with someone, when he hears someone sobbing. It seems like coming from a kid, but why would one be around there? He turns around and eyes the little girl, following where her little hands are pointing.

"Go ahead, I'll catch up with you later." He doesn't give any explanation as he reaches the little girl and bends down, taking the open book in his hands. "You like kiwis, little girl?" He asks, bending down enough so he is at her height, looking for a moment at the animal on the book.

"Yes!" She puts a hand on the book, smiling. "Thank you."

"What are you doing here? Where are your parents?" He lets her take the book back, deciding to sit down next to her.

"Auntie Renee." She points at the woman. "Mommy is out, match." She pats excited on the book, kicking her little legs once again.

"My name is Jay, what's yours, little girl?" Jay asks further, intrigued.

"Leonie!" She looks up at him and her eyes glow when she notices his necklace. For some reasons, that knife attracted her. "You like kiwis?"

"Do I like kiwis...?" He mutters to himself, scratching his beard thoughtful. "You want to know a secret? But you can't tell anyone." He smiles at her.

"Love secrets!" Her eyes sparkle as she giggles, waiting eagerly to know about it.

"Kiwis come from my home country. I come from New Zealand."He ruffles her hair." Pinky secret, right?"

"Yes! Pinky secret!"

When Y/N finally gets backstage, she isn't expecting to find her daughter with Jay. He has always been her crush ever since he came to AEW, but has never had the guts to tell him. She smiles as the two of them seem to go along so well, while they look together at her animals book.

She goes to sit next to her, motioning to Jay to be quiet, while Leonie is babbling something about the cat on the book.

Leonie is so focused on her babbling that she notices Y/N only when she decides to put her head against Jay's chest, starting to feel tired.

"Mommy!" She hugs her, while Jay takes the book, so it won't get broken.

"Hi little Peach. Have you had fun?" Y/N kisses her between the hair, purring.

"Yes! Jay is a very gentle man! And I was a good girl!" Leonie chuckles happily.

"Thanks for entertaining her. The segment after my win went longer than expected." Y/N says to Jay, who nods at her.

"It has been a pleasure. She was here alone while Renee did the interview, so I kept her company." Jay stands up, stretching his arms.

"Mommy, can we go to New Zealand one time?" Leonie looks up at her mom, eyes sparkling.

"Uh... Sure. Why, little Peach?" Y/N is confused, even more since Jay starts laughing.

"I wanna see the Kiwis!"

[marq-lynch]

#Strickpage Strikeout is Here!

It's a Connect 4 Bingo Challenge!

Pick one or more of the four themed StrickPage Bingo cards, and try to create four pieces that connect in any direction. Each card has sixteen spaces, with fifteen prompts and one free space for a wild card.

The WrestleDream card offers softer, more tentative new relationship prompts for a fluffier side or AUs.

The Full Gear card is your classic StrickPage horny violence with lots of vampire undertones.

The Revolution card pulls a lot of weight and no punches, shouldering the angst burden through the All In era.

The All Out card brings us full circle to our modern standing, with a complicated combo of fiery passion and threads ended but untied.

Of course if you get that competitive itch you can always try your hand at a second card. Or even combine prompts from multiple. The truly wild might try for a full card strikeout...

This is not just a fic challenge, and this is a great reminder that AO3 does work as repository both to embed media AND to link out to other sites on third parties.

Mix it and match it up if you want: do a fic drabble one day, a sketch the next, a video edit the third, and round out the last day with a lovely set of memes.

Expanded Cards with Posting Information & Links to TV Tropes Pages Below Read More.

You can add your works, anonymously or not, to the StrickPage StrikeOut AO3 collection beginning Midnight on March 3rd, Pacific Time, remaining open through the end of the month for inevitable 'life happens' straggling.

Please tag your works #StrickPage StrikeOut on social media with a space, and avoid tagging alternative ship name spellings.

We recommend imgbox.com for third party image hosting with ease of embedding and galleries and no sign up required, and Vimeo for the same with videos edits.

There are no real rules to this challenge other than to create StrickPage or Hangman & Swerve relationship fanworks in the spirit of the challenge. Take the cards and make your own challenges.

Please don't hesitate to reach out to me by DM on Tumblr, Discord, or Bsky if you have questions, but really the point of this is just to have fun and create as a fandom! Don't put too much pressure on it.

Card #1 - Wrestledream - (Softer/New Relationship)

Love is a Weakness - Love is regarded as a negative influence.

Cupid's Arrow - Falling in love personified by the love god, Cupid.

Rivalry as Courtship - A romance that stems from two characters' rivalry.

I Didn't Mean to Turn You On - Unintentionally making someone fall in love with you.

Laugh of Love - The tendency to laugh when in the presence of your love interest.

Unresolved Sexual Tension - Two characters are obviously attracted to each other, but they never act on their feelings.

Inconvenient Attraction - A character falls in love when they'd rather not.

No Challenge = No Satisfaction - I'm only happy when there's a challenge!

How Dad Met Mom - Come around, kids, this is the story of how your father and I fell in love.

Puppy Love - Romance between pre-pubescent children. [Note: This is on the list because of Swerve's famous playlist choice to include 'Awaken, My Love' for the Deathmatch, which includes the line 'So This isn't just Puppy Love'. Like all prompts on these cards, interpret as you see fit.]

Love at First Punch - Falling in love with somebody who beat you up.

Forgotten First Meeting - Forgetting that you first met your love interest long ago.

Best Her to Bed Her - A man must defeat a strong woman in combat if he wishes to romance her.

Crazy in the Head, Crazy in the Bed - A character is eccentric or outright insane, which makes them more appealing in the romantic and sexual sense.

Card #2 - Full Gear - (Violently Horny Vampire Vibes)

Stalker with a Crush - A character who follows the person they're in love with everywhere.

Stalker without a Crush - Whose obsession is unrelated to romantic or sexual feelings.

Too Much Alike - When applied to romantic relationships (or, less commonly, friendships). Two people break apart because they're too similar to each other; their shared traits clash and/or they have the same traits they don't like in themselves.

It's Personal - It sure is. You hurt someone dear to me. Now I'm gonna fucking kill you!

In Love with Your Carnage - A villainous or morally ambiguous character falls for someone because of their violent tendencies.

Breaking and Bloodsucking - Vampires break into bedrooms to attack women.

Hemo Erotic - A fetish for biting and drinking blood.

Must Be Invited - A supernatural creature cannot enter a dwelling without permission from the homeowners.

Yandere - They're so in love with somebody that they'll murder anybody who stands in their way.

Yandere Couple - Two people driven murderous with love end up together.

Combat Sadomasochist - Someone who enjoys both inflicting harm on (and also receiving harm from) other people.

I Hate You, Vampire Dad - Hating someone who turned you into a monster.

It's Not You, It's My Enemies - Being with your lover puts them in harm's way.

Consuming Passion - Cannibalism with sexy undertones.

Red String of Fate - Two characters are bound by fate to be together.

Arch-Enemy - The main villain of the story is usually (though not necessarily always) the primary nemesis of the main hero.

Interplay of Sex and Violence - Violence and sex happening around the same time as each other, or even using violence as foreplay.

Card #3 - Revolution Through All In - (Angst Vibes)

Came Back with a Vengeance - You ruined my life and sent me away to rot in exile, but I'm back with new skills, a new identity, and a meticulous plan to destroy everything you love.

The Mistress - A woman whom a married man cheats on his wife with.

I Gave My Word - May indicate Honor Before Reason.

Wanting Is Better Than Having - Once you've gotten all that you've wanted, life becomes boring and unrewarding.

Career Versus Man - A woman must give up her career if she gets married.

Awful Wedded Life - An unhappy and dreary marriage.

Reformed, but Rejected - A villain seeking redemption finds that no one trusts them.

Daddy Had a Good Reason for Abandoning You - A parent gives an excuse for why they left their child.

Descent into Addiction - A character's story arc involves them becoming dependent on a substance.

Am I Just a Toy to You? - A character confronts the other about how serious they think their relationship is.

Motive Decay - A villain gradually discards the reasons why they became evil in the first place, either losing their sympathy if they keep at it or give up their villainy after no longer caring about their Freudian Excuse

The Perils of Being the Best - Being The Ace has many prices to pay.

Success As Revenge - The best way to repay you for what you've done to me is by living a good life while you end up being miserable.

Accomplice by Inaction - You did nothing to save me from injustice even though you could. Therefore, I'm gonna end you!

Off the Wagon - A recovering alcoholic starts drinking again.

Card #4 - All Out - (Burning Romance)

Rationalizing the Overkill - My revenge ended up going too far/causing collateral damage, but it was well worth it!

Devoted to You - A character who inspires obsessive devotion in those around them.

Victory Is Boring - A character succeeds, but doesn't know what to do afterwards.

Destructive Romance - A deeply unhappy and dysfunctional romantic relationship (sometimes to the point of being abusive).

Fate Drives Us Together - If two people keep encountering each other, it means they're meant to be together.

Ignored Epiphany - A villain considers redeeming themselves, then decides not to.

Loving a Shadow - Falling in love with the ideal of someone rather than the actual person.

Vengeance Feels Empty - I've successfully gotten my revenge... now I have no idea what to do.

Fully-Embraced Fiend - Someone turned into a vampire decides to embrace their transformation rather than fight it.

Grand Romantic Gesture - A big, elaborate event done for someone to show your love for them.

Conducting the Carnage - So what if the world is ending? I'm just going to stand here and move my hands like a conductor. Whatever.

He Who Fights Monsters - Because of my goal for revenge, I've become just like the bastard who harassed me. Good.

Fanatical Fire - YOU SHALL BURN!!!!

Flames of Love - Fire represents the passion in a relationship.

Burn Baby Burn - Destroying something with fire for a dramatic disposal.

[skyesblue]

Hey I was wondering if I could have a hook imagine if your open for request

basically me and him have dated since 13/14& grew up together and now we’ve turned in our 20’s and he wins the title against Jericho and we all celebrate and he asks me to marry him/ I find out I’m pregnant and everyone is happy for us & stuff

Hook: Fated to You

Summary: Hook has been dating his childhood sweetheart since they were teenagers and tonight is the night he wins back the FTW championship back from Chris Jericho and him and Y/n celebrate by him proposing to Y/n, but little does he know Y/n has a surprise of her own

✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎

Masterlists | Aew Masterlist | Hook Masterlist

-ˋˏ [Word Count] ˎˊ : 936

-ˋˏ [Genre] ˎˊ : Fluff

-ˋˏ [TW] ˎˊ : Fluff, mistakes I might have, Chris Jericho, and this was not proofread before being published

-ˋˏ [Taglist] ˎˊ : @gecrgiagirl @nev-danielgarciawife

[Comment to be added to my taglist]

✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎

It's a few weeks before All In where Hook will face Jericho for the Ftw title, you and Hook watch from his locker room as Chris Jericho's interview starts; Renee puts the mic to her mouth "at this time I am joined by the Learning Tree" "Hey guys!" he yelled as he waved to the camera. Renee tried not to laugh as she continued "How do you expect to beat Hook at All In?" she asked as she moved the mic to his mouth."Hey guys!" he waved again. He continued "Renee as you know All In is in a few weeks and I will beat Hook because he forgot the lessons I taught him. But the rest is secret thanks, bye guys!" he said the last part enthusiastically and waved before he left with Big Bill.

Bryan Keith waited back for a few seconds looking at Renee then leaning in close to her as he yelled “You better respect Chris Jericho!” before walking away. When it went back to the commentary table I look over at Hook and we both laugh at how stupid Chris Jericho is. "Are you scheduled to fight tonight?" "No but I have a promo scheduled later though" "what time?" "9:30." I sat down with him on the couch watching the show until it was time for his promo, when the clocks hit 9:30 he got up walking to the door holding it open for me then walking out the door behind me shutting it behind him. He held my hand all the way to where we usually did the interviews but he let go as soon as when the camera started rolling.

"I am joined here by Hook with Y/n, now Hook you heard what Chris Jericho said earlier in the night do you care to respond?" "Chris Jericho I will get back my Ftw title and cut down all your branches on the way too. All In." he said the last part pointing at the camera. When the interview ended Hook and I went back to his locker room for the rest of the show, he looked over at me "I fight Big Bill next week and you will stay here during my match" "but-" "no, do you understand me Y/n?" "yes" "now at All In you can sit at the commentary table with Taz ok?" "ok"

skip to All in

You stood with Hook in his locker room while he got ready, he looked over at you "what color babe?" he asked as he held up blue shorts in one hand and grayish-silver in the other hand. "Do the gray" you told him as you was getting TV ready. You fixed his eye patch to waste time as the Learning Tree did their entrance. When it was Hook's turn you walked on the side as he walked down the ramp, You sat at the commentary table next to your soon to be father in law Taz as Hook got in the ring. You put the headset on as the match begun, You look over at Taz "hi honey" "hi" you replied happily.

Towards the beginning of the match Jericho put Cricked balls onto the mat which made you question it, but learning from wrestling some things are just better not asked about or left unsaid. Hook got out the ring grabbing a Cricket bat and 'oh no' was all you could think to yourself. He started smacking everyone with it then started picking up the Cricket balls and started flinging them at all three of them, you couldn't hold in your laughter anymore. After he did that he went behind Jericho choking him with the Cricket bat yelling "hey guys! Hey guys!" mocking Jericho as you laughed harder adding in "hey guys!"

"C'mon Hook!" you yell to encourage him to get up as he was getting jumped by Bill and Bryan. Hook got back in the ring swinging wildly missing as he got smacked on the head with the trashcan, Jericho missed the Judas Effect going straight into a T-bone suplex by Hook. Hook go up taking off the eye patch yelling "I can see!" pointing at his eye. Towards the end of the match Taz got up putting Bryan in his submission letting Hook get the win by Red Rum. Taz backed up so you could hug Hook first, Hook walked up to you kissing your head then hugged you for a few seconds as you took off the headset.

He walked over to Taz hugging him until he decided to take you backstage, he wanted to be alone with you in his locker room. Even though he is very public about kissing your head or his arm being around you, everything else is behind closed doors; he is a very private person. He wanted to do this next part privately, you turn around to look for something and you couldn't find it so you turn back around to face him to see him down on one knee with a small box; it had the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen. You nod nonstop before he could even ask you to marry him, he stood up putting the ring on your finger as he kissed you softly.

When he pulled apart you looked at him "then this is the best time to tell you I'm pregnant" you laugh through the tears. He looked at you smiling big; that cute smile that he hides from the public. You're marrying your best fried, now you have all you could ever ask for in life.

[mrsarcherofinfamy]

●Hook x Tattoo Artist Reader●

Summary: Hook discovers your tattoo art on Instagram.

_________________________________________

*Tyler's POV*

Sitting in the locker room with Orange, Kris, Willow, Trent and Chuck, I am scrolling through Instagram when I come across this tattoo artist page that catches my eye. I click on the page and start scrolling through the pictures. Trent comes over and sits next to me looking at my phone.

"Woah dude. Who's art is that? That is amazing!"

"Oh its this chick named Y/N."

Willow and Kris gasp and run over to the couch next to me.

"Oh my gosh! Y/N is so talented!"

"Yeah she did my tattoos!"

"Mine too! You have to go to her!"

"And I think Tyler would really like her if you know what I mean."

Willow nudges my side and I roll my eyes. The girls have been trying to get me a girlfriend for a long time and it hasn't worked out. Kris pulls out her phone and starts typing on it.

"I have an idea!"

She starts calling someone on speakerphone. I look over at her confused.

"Hellooo lady!"

"Hi Y/N!"

My eyes go wide looking over at Kris. Willow laughs at me.

"Is my other bestie there too?"

"Hi Y/N!"

"Hi Willow!"

"Y/N, we were wondering if you possibly have an opening tonight or tomorrow for someone new?"

"Is it a man? Better not be like the last one you brought me."

"Yes it is a man. And no nothing like that last one."

They are start laughing and I shake my head no at Kris. Kris smiles at me than looks at her phone.

"So I actually had a cancellation tonight so why don't you bring this mystery man with you at 6?"

"It's a date! See you than!"

"Bye!"

She hangs up the phone than looks over at me.

"Looks like you got a tattoo appointment tonight. Better figure out what you are getting."

"Thanks Kris."

I roll my eyes and go back to looking through her drawings to see which one I am going to get now.

_________________________________________

*Y/N's POV*

I am currently sweeping up the floor in my tattoo shop when I hear the bells on the door jingle. I look up seeing Kris and Willow walk in with two men walking behind them.

"Kris! Willow!"

I set the broom down against the wall and walk over to them.

"Y/N! How are you?"

"I'm good! How are you two?"

"Good! Good!"

"Awesome!"

I look over at the two men that came in with them.

"Who are these two?"

"Hi I'm Trent!"

He hugs me wrapping his arms around my head and I hug him back wrapping my arms around his waist. He pulls away keeping his arm around my neck.

"You are short."

I roll my eyes and push his arm off me walking up to Tyler.

"Hi. I'm Y/N."

"I'm Tyler."

"Oh, you are the one I am tattooing. Did you figure out what you want?"

I walk back to my section in the shop and he follows behind me as everyone else sits in the waiting area. He pulls out his phone and shows me the eyes that I posted on Instagram.

"Oh... you... you want one of my drawings?"

"Your drawings are incredible. I looked through all your pictures on Instagram. There is a couple of them that I wanna get."

"Thank you. I will go print out the stencil for you. Be back."

I grab my phone and walk over to my machine printing out different sizes. Kris and Willow walk up to me with big grins on their faces. I shake my head looking at them.

"Soooo whatcha think?"

Kris whispers to me and I look down blushing a little.

"He is cute."

I mumble still looking down at the floor and they laugh a little at me.

"And he said he went through all my drawings on Instagram and wants to get more later on."

"Oh he likes you already than."

Willow nudges my arm and I smile looking at her. I grab the stencils and look at them.

"Time for me to tattoo ladies."

"Go get your man."

I laugh walking back over to Tyler. I put the stencils on my little table infront of him.

"What size would you like?"

He looks through the sizes and picks out the middle size one. I take it from him and look at him.

"Okay. Next question. Where do you want it?"

He takes his hoodie off and I gulp seeing him not wearing a shirt underneath.

"I want it about here."

He points to below his neck on his back. I prep the area he wants than put the stencil on. I pull off the paper revealing the stencil on his back. I take a picture of it than walk infront him showing him the picture.

"How's that?"

"Looks amazing. Let's do it."

I get all my supplies ready and start tattooing him as he sits there playing on his phone.

_________________________________________

Finishing up the tattoo, I start wiping it down and cleaning it up.

"Mind if I take a picture?"

"Go ahead."

I pull my phone out of my pocket and snap a picture. I walk infront of him and show him the picture.

"Wow! That's amazing! You did a great job! Thank you so much!"

"Of course!"

I giggle looking at him. He pulls money out of his pocket.

"How much do I owe you for it?"

"A date."

"What?"

"You owe me a date. With you."

He stares at me for a minute than smiles. I giggle at him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"It's a deal!"

He stands up, kisses my cheek than walks over to Trent and they leave. Kris and Willow come running over to me.

"What was that?"

"Details!"

"He asked me how much I owe him for the tattoo. And I said he owes me a date. With him."

"Ooooo yes girl!"

"I think you two will be really good for each other!"

God I hope so!

[toriluvsnickwayne]

Totally Worth It

Hook x (Shibata’s sister) Reader

Requested : yes/no

Sequel to Worth It

Masterlist

Y/N prepares nervously for her date with Hook, with her brother Shibata offering reassuring words. When Hook arrives, looking dashing in his suit, Y/N feels a bit more at ease. They head out for a fancy dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant, where the conversation flows effortlessly. As the night progresses, Y/N becomes more comfortable with Hook, enjoying his humor and attentiveness. After dinner, they stroll through the city, stopping for ice cream and laughing together. As the sun sets, Hook suggests heading to the beach, making the evening even more magical.

Y/N’s POV

Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her hotel room, her heart racing with excitement and nerves. Her brother Shibata sat on the bed, watching her with a knowing smile.

"Hey, sis, you look amazing," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "Hook's a lucky guy."

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to calm her jitters. "Thanks, bro. I'm just really nervous. What if this date is a disaster?"

Shibata chuckled. "It won't be a disaster. Hook's a great guy, and you two have a connection. Just relax and be yourself."

Y/N nodded, taking another deep breath. She finished getting ready, her hands shaking slightly as she applied her lip gloss.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Shibata got up to answer it, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she saw Hook standing in the hallway, looking handsome in his suit and tie.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "You look stunning."

Y/N blushed, feeling a little more at ease. "Thanks, Tyler," she replied, using the name she knew him by.

Shibata gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll let you two lovebirds get going. Have a great time, sis."

Hook offered Y/N his arm, and they headed out to a fancy dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant. The food was exquisite, and the conversation flowed easily.

As the night went on, Y/N found herself feeling more and more comfortable around Tyler. She loved the way he made her laugh, the way he listened to her with kind eyes.

After dinner, they strolled through the city, enjoying the sights and sounds of the bustling streets. They stopped for ice cream at a popular shop, laughing and joking like they'd known each other for years.

As the sun began to set, Tyler suggested they head to the beach. Y/N agreed, and they walked hand in hand along the shore, watching the sky turn pink and orange.

Tyler turned to Y/N with a warm smile. "Y/N, from the moment I met you, I felt a connection that I couldn't ignore. I love spending time with you, and I feel like we have something special. Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Y/N's heart soared, and she nodded. "Tyler, I'd love to."

Tyler grinned, pulling her into a tender kiss.

After the beach, Tyler took Y/N back to his hotel room, clearing it with Shibata first. They fell asleep together, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts full of joy and happiness.

The next morning, Shibata texted Y/N, "How was the date, sis?"

Y/N smiled, snuggled up in Tyler's arms. "It was amazing, bro. I think I'm in love.

Shibata replied, "I knew it! Hook's a great guy. I'm happy for you both."

Y/N smiled, feeling grateful for her brother's support. She knew she could always count on him to be there for her, just like she knew she could count on Tyler to make her heart skip a beat.

Author’s Note: Hey lovely people of tumblr who read this this is the end of the mini series if u could call it that since it’s only 2 parts not rly anything to say for tonight. As usual, lots of love- Tori 💗

[coleskingdom]

Everyday

Adam Page x Fem Reader

NSFW 18+

Shes waiting up for me and is up and at the door as soon as my key hit the lock. “How bad is it?” her hand gripping my chin as she looks over me, my eyes not meeting her gaze. I feel her eyes on me , her thumb brushing my split lip, “Does it hurt?” She asks softly, as she takes me into the bedroom, and I see the ice packs, heating pads, lidocaine, and an assortment of other things she’s worried that I need. “Darlin, physically I’m fine. A little sore my backs got cuts , but I’m okay.. put the triage kit away“ I say kissing her forehead. She sighs, knowing I’m not telling her the whole truth, because if I do , she won’t let me have what I truly need, which is to be surrounded in her warmth, her light, her belief in me.

“Adam, I’ll put it all way but that lip needs ice.” as she hands me the ice pack, putting away the other items. “Do you wish it was the way it was before?” I ask her not sure that I want to hear the answer. “Everyday you wake up and make a decision on who you need to be. I wake up everyday and make a decision to take care of and choose you no matter who you choose to be. So no I don’t wish it was like before, but I wish you could find peace. To quiet your mind..to” I cut her words off with a kiss, it’s desperation, it’s my attempt to quiet my mind.

Her hands go to the hem of my shirt, her hands running up underneath toying with my chest hair. My hands go into the back of her hair needing to control the kiss, to soften and deepen. I feel her hands relax and her body soften against mine. I move from her lips to her jaw to her ear “You’re all I need.” Scooping her up and putting her on the bed her soft laugh of surprise, that I picked her up. “ I see you changed the bedding, you must’ve expected me to be a bloody mess.” as I slip her shorts off. “I , um, it’s cold I just put on the “ I drop to my knees her words failing her, as she she follows my hands as I take off my shirt , her satisfied smile an appreciation of my body but the lack of damage that it showed outwardly. “Adam, I need you, here with me.” her voice soft. “Darlin, let me take care of you.” she shakes her head and reaches for me. “ sweetheart, you’re sure” standing slipping off my jeans and boxers as she raises up to slip her shirt over her head. I groan at my darling girl naked before me, her hands teasing herself as if she’s showing me what she needs.

Im over her now my lips running over her curves as my hands find her perfect breasts before swirling my tongue over each. I take mouth again before dragging my teeth over her bottom lip. “I’ve been dreaming about being back inside you since I left you.” my eyes meeting hers. She brings her knees up to my hips cradle me between her thighs and then tilts her pelvis. “Same Cowboy Same” she smiles. I run my thumb along her bottom lip as my cock lies heavy between our legs, the tip teasing her hot wet center. "I fucking need you, sweetheart ," | growl and lace my fingers with hers, holding them against the bed on either side of her face.

Keeping her hands trapped beside her head, I tease her clit with my dick and drop my mouth down to one pale-pink nipple. Sucking the tight little bud between my lips, I groan as it grows even tighter.

Her breath hitches in her throat, and I slide through her pussy, teasing her clit. "You with me?”She whimpers, and I push in. Just the tip, barely moving. I pull back out. Teasing her. Building her up slowly. “Adam”she cries out as her tight pussy clenches around my cock in a fucking vice-like grip.

"Oh God, A..."I bring my face close to her and graze my teeth over her thrumming pulse. "I'm taking my time, darlin. I need to fucking worship you."The sound of my name on her pretty, swollen lips is like a drug.She's my drug, my home , everything I don’t deserve.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Adam." She wraps her leg around my waist and drags her wet pussy over me. "So, so good." Her nails dig into my shoulders as her hips slowly circle my cock.

"That's my good girl. Take what

you want."She buries her face in my shoulder and bites down on my neck.A loud moan echoes in the quiet room. My girl likes pleasure mixed with a little pain. “I need you Adam. I want to feel you for days. Every step I take, I want to feel you." She circles her hips and clings to me. I shift my hips and pick up speed, bottoming out in her.

My abs contracting with each

thrust.Her hips move in sync with mine. I drop my hand between us and press my thumb against her clit, wanting her to come for me. Needing it. Feral for her. My darling girl.

"I'm so close, Adam." She moves faster and gasps as she locks her legs behind my back and shakes.

"Oh God. Oh God. Yes."

"That's it, sweetheart . Come on my

cock. Fucking give it to me." she screams and shatters around me. I feel my own orgasm radiating a heat from the base of my spine as I come hard, her name a whimper on my lips as I gasp for breath. She adjusts herself. Her nipples rubbing against my hard chest. Her nails trailing over my shoulders. Aftershocks spark through us as she lies on the bed, her words soft soothing as the violence of my own orgasm ebbs.

I climb out of bed and walk into the bathroom to get her a warm washcloth. When I walk back in, she tilts her head to me. I run my hand over her thigh and open her legs. "I know, sweetheart . Just let me take care of you." I gently run the washcloth along her sex before I toss it to the floor, then climb on the bed next to her, dragging the blanket up over us.She rolls over and drapes herself over my chest. "Promise me, that when you’re choosing who to be each morning , that you choose to be mine.” her eyes a storm of emotion, “Darlin, there’s no choice your mine for as long as you’ll have me.” content now I stroke her arm until her breathing lets me know she’s asleep. I wonder if she’ll ever know that she’s my heart and soul, the reason I breathe.

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

Friends or More?

Pairing: Colten Gunn x female!reader

Category: Angst/Fluff

Word count: 1,467

Summary: Falling for your best friend is risky, even more so when he doubles as a coworker. After five months away, you return with a clear head, or so you thought. Will this turn into friends to lovers or will end in unrequited love?

Warnings: None

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve been on here and I’m excited to be back! This is my first time writing for Colten so bear with me! @ylenyasstuff I hope you like it ❤️

Masterlist

Taglist

Gif is not mine. Credit to owner

It’s been five months since you left your job at AEW and now here you are, back to give this another shot. Why did you leave in the first place? Because of Colten Gunn and it’s not in a bad way. You worked as a booker and little by little, day after day you noticed your feelings towards the oldest Gunn brother was changing.

You were on the verge of falling for him.

When you first arrived at AEW, you didn’t have any intention on falling for anyone but then came Colten Gunn knocking on your little makeshift office door. Austin was preset as well but, truthfully, you didn’t notice him at first.

“Welcome to AEW!” Colten beamed, arms outstretched as if to show off the place. “We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be the first to give you the grand tour.”

You were taken aback at how excited he was to be given this task. You didn’t know what to expect when you arrived, especially with Tony Kahn being busy with boss man duties. He assured you that you would be in good hands for your first day. You expected him to send The Young Bucks or Kenny Omega or Britt Baker or Willow Nightingale to be the welcome wagon and your guide for today but lo and behold, he sent the Gunns. You’re not complaining but it definitely surprised you.

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” you smiled. Movement from behind Colten caught your attention and that’s when you finally noticed his brother. Austin was standing back watching the interaction, a small smirk playing on his lips. What’s that about? You shrugged it off and introduced yourself to them.

The Gunns showed you around and before long it felt like you all had known each other for years. It was comforting to have an instant friendship so early into your career at AEW.

Fast forward a few months and things were still great. You were booking huge matches and doing your best to help tell stories that people would remember and connect with. Your friendship with Colten and Austin was going great, although you ended up being closer to Colten in the end. Maybe that wasn’t as good of a thing as you thought.

As time went on, you began to notice your feelings changing towards Colten. No. You cannot ruin this friendship with unrequited love. You tried to bury those feelings down and pretend they didn’t exist. You couldn’t fall for arguably your best friend. Unfortunately, those feelings became too hard to hide and you knew you were in trouble. You were at risk of losing your rock. Your anchor. Your best friend.

Why are you stressing out so much about this? What if he feels the same and all is well and good? Well, you have a rule — Do not date your coworkers.

That rule is why you asked Tony Kahn for time away. You needed space from Colten to clear your head and forget about those feelings. Surely it was just some weird ‘I like him because he showed me around and has been there for me’ kind of thing. Right?

Time will tell.

You pushed open the doors to the arena AEW was at this week and started tracking down Tony. You finally managed to find him talking to some crew members on the ramp way leading to the ring. The conversation wrapped up and you cheerfully greeted him. “Hi Tony! What do you have for me?”

Tony filled you in on what’s going on in regard to your job and the matches that will be taking place tonight. He showed you to a similar makeshift office that you had on your first day. That’s when the memories came rushing back. All the times Colten hung out with you when he wasn’t needed for backstage interviews or matches. It’s all going to be fine. It has to be.

Thankfully you didn’t see Colten at all or Austin either. Some of your friends came by to welcome you back and expressed how happy they were to see you again. All felt right, even when you were packing up some things to head out in the next ten minutes…. Until Colten popped up in the doorway. Oh no. Breathe. It’s fine. You’re just friends.

“Sorry I hadn’t been able to come by and welcome you back,” he noticed your bag on your desk and you sliding your laptop in its case. “I’m about to be heading out too. Want me to walk you out?”

You tried not to look nervous as you zipped up your bag. “Y-yeah. That would be great.” Just friends. You’re just friends despite the fact that your heart is doing flips and your hands are slightly shaky. You threw your bag on your shoulder and grabbed your phone. When you looked up at Colten, he was watching you with a look you couldn’t quite place.

The two of you walked and talked about what you’ve missed. You couldn’t help but laugh at a story Colten told about how badly Austin embarrassed himself in front of this girl at a bar. “It couldn’t have went any worse. I swear his face was as red as lobster.” Colten laughed.

His laugh. His contagious smile. His gorgeous eyes. They were not helping you convince yourself that you and Colten are just friends. Get it together!

“I have a question.” Colten said once you both had arrived at your rental car. You motioned for him to continue, not trusting your voice to be steady enough to answer. “Why did you leave? Did something happen? Did someone say or do something to make you feel like you didn’t belong?” His face was covered with concern and a small mixture of hurt and anger at the thought of someone being the reason you felt the need to leave. Little does he know, he’s the reason.

You thought about how to answer for a moment, searching for the right words. “I..” you paused, taking a breath, knowing that what you were about to say would change everything. “I left because of you,” you quietly replied. You saw the look on his face — confusion, hurt, a flash of anger even appeared on his face. “It’s not because of anything bad!” You were quick to reassure him. “It was because I have this rule and you were going to make me break it. And I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t ruin our friendship.” You rambled, hoping he heard it all.

“What’s the rule?” Colten asked after a moment to let the information you just gave soak in. “I swear I didn’t mean to do anything bad or wrong or upset you.”

You took another breath and knew your rule was absolutely about to be broken. You knew in that moment your feelings for Colten weren’t going away any time soon, if ever. “The rule is don’t date your coworkers. I always prided myself on following that rule at every job I’ve ever had but then I come here and meet you and then little by little feelings changed. I could feel myself starting to—“ you cut yourself off. You didn’t want to scare him away, but honestly, it didn’t look like he was going anywhere as you finally looked into his eyes. He had this look that you’ve seen in movies. Admiration.

“You left because you were falling in love with me?” Colten’s eyebrows raised and he couldn’t resist the smile that made its way to his face. “I’ll be honest. I was miserable when you left and I thought it was just because we were close friends but the longer you were gone, Austin and Jay and Juice were convinced it was because I had fell for you. And finally, I didn’t argue with them anymore about it because I knew they were right.” Never once did Colten’s eyes leave yours. In the middle of his confession, he had taken your hands in his.

No unrequited love? No rejection? You wanted to cheer but refrained. This moment was too perfect to ruin. “I left to clear my head but now that I’m back, I know you’re worth breaking my rule for. Especially after what you just said. I was falling for you then and I’m falling for you now.”

“I’m happy you’re breaking your rule for me. I’m just curious about something though.” A smirk played on his lips. You didn’t know what he was about to ask but it was clearly going to be mischievous.

“What’s that?”

“How many more rules are you willing to break for me?”

A blush crept up on your cheeks as you playfully smacked his chest, a laugh escaping your lips. It’s clear you’re in for a ride with this one.

General Taglist: @legit9thlunaticwarrior @magicalbuttertarts @1dluver13xx @sunshinevirus @wwenhlimagines @crowleysqueenofhell @jackson-nickthedate @omg-im-such-a-masochist @kmc1989

[99hook]

Confessions

Synopsis: Hook is having a bad day and just wants y/n’s attention, but so does someone else

Warnings: cursing

A/N: literally something that popped into my head nobody asked for. I hope you loveee it! Happy Forbidden Door day loves

Hook was going through it today. From the moment his eyes opened in the morning, anything that could’ve possibly gone wrong; went wrong.

That’s why he’s got attitude written all over his face, more than the usual. A shattered phone screen from dropping it on the concrete outside his hotel, a large stain on his shirt and sticky skin beneath from spilling his drink and not having time to shower before needing to arrive at the arena and to top it all off, he rounds the corner and finds you laughing at something Jack says.

Jack isn’t even funny.

He watched as the two of you were cutting up about something that was probably just a way for Jack to try and make a move on you. You were his friend, just like you were Hook’s but something about the look in Jack’s eye paired with the heartfelt laughs echoing down the hall made Hook’s ears burn. He didn’t like what he was seeing.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Jack discretely took a step closer to you. The two of you were way too close for comfort and it was taking Hook’s bad mood and tripling it. If anyone knew what Jack was trying to do, it was Hook. It was obvious he was trying to make a move on you. The lame joke he probably told you was his first little attempt and even though Hook had no grounds to be angry about it, he still was, and he didn’t care if he showed it or not.

His feelings for you were secretly bottled up and it has been that way for months now. He’s come close to confessing but every time he does he gets tongue tied. Nobody knows that but him, so it wasn’t like he told Jack and Jack still tried to get with you. But still, wasn’t okay to Hook.

In the midst of another eruption of laughter Hook clears his throat from behind Jack and earns your attention. There’s a look on Hook’s face that screams pissed off and he doesn’t try to mask it.

“Hey man” Jack slaps a hand on Hook’s shoulder making him tense up immediately. He knows he has no actual right to be mad at Jack right now but that doesn’t stop him from jerking his shoulder to get his hand off of him before he might actually break it off.

There was a look that crossed Jack’s face but he didn’t ask what was wrong. Hook ignored Jack’s stare and focused on you instead. He already knew you could tell something was going on with him like you always did. One thing that draws Hook to you like a magnet is the fact you can read him like a book, even when he doesn’t understand his feelings himself.

One look at his dark eyes and the way his lips were pulled in a thin, tight line and you could see that something was bothering him horribly.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Y/N?” Hook asked, emphasizing your name as a non suggestive way to get Jack to leave. He took the hint but not without shooting another questionable glare Hook’s way.

“I’ll catch you later, Y/N.” Jack muttered before he walked off, leaving just you and the boy glaring down at you for reasons you didn’t understand.

“You okay?” You asked, wanting to reach out and rub your hand down his arm, or something that could maybe comfort him in some way but your hesitation kept you from it.

Hook inhaled a deep breath and exhaled an annoyed sigh before he simply shook his head. Truth be told, all he wanted was to see you, be the one laughing in the hallway at some stupid joke with you because you always had a way of brightening his whole entire day no matter how horrible it might be, and now he’s realizing that he has to do something before someone else does. Whether that be Jack or anyone else in the world.

“Well, what’s wrong?” You asked, wanting to take a step closer to him, but feeling as though your feet were nailed to the ground. You weren’t sure how to act or what to say or do, because the way Hook is staring down at you with a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen from him before made you feel like he was angry with you, or something along those lines.

“Do you and Jack have something going on?” He mustered enough courage to ask, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He watched as your brows knitted together and a look of genuine confusion crossed your face. He didn’t expect that you would ever lie to him, but he searched for the signs anyway.

“What? No. Why would you think that?” You asked, noting the way he seemed to somewhat relax his clenched jaw and stiff shoulders.

“I saw y’all cutting up down here, so I just thought-“ he cut himself off, feeling both relieved and now unsure how to go about this conversation without seeming like a total dick.

“Is that why you’re acting weird?” You asked, unsure if you were piecing the puzzle together or not. Hook being jealous of jungleboy made no sense… unless.

“I’m not acting weird.” He deadpanned. “I was just gonna say hes my boy and all but I don’t really think he’d be a good guy for you, personally.”

You stared up at him, unsure if you believed anything that he was saying. Hook avoided your stare and instead averted his attention to the hallway as if he was waiting for someone to show up and save him from having to have this conversation that made him feel incredible vulnerable and nervous, which was unfamiliar and uncomfortable territory for him.

“Mm.” You hummed, and he heard the skepticism in your voice. He knew you didn’t believe the bullshit he was feeding you. You crossed your arms and he caught sight of the way you were squinting at him, which he knew was something you did when you were thinking hard about something.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, mimicking the way you were looking by squinting his own eyes and crossing his arms.

“I mean you’re obviously lying to me.��� You chuckled, noting the way his cheeks tinge red.

“I don’t lie. Especially not to you.” He replied, suddenly feeling extremely nervous and maybe even a little shaky. He tucked his hands tight into the folds of his arms so you couldn’t see if they were starting to tremble or not. An affect only you ever had on him.

“No?” You tested, taking a step forward. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed but he was doing his best to keep that poker face on.

“Nope.” He nearly mumbled, slicking his tongue over the dryness of his plump lips as he looked down on you, into your wide and round eyes he never seems to be able to get enough of.

“Mm.” You hummed again. Nothing but skepticism filling your voice and he acted like he didn’t notice it.

“Mm?” He mimicked. “Mm what?”

You couldn’t help but let a smile creep up to your lips, which confused him. “What?” He asked again.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, realizing that what everyone had been telling you was true.

“Tyler-“ the use of his real name suddenly had his heart hammering in his chest. It wasn’t often that you called him that, but he loved it every single time.

“Y/N.” His voice was a little shakier than he would have liked. He instantly cleared his throat and hoped you didn’t realize that he’s a ball of anxiousness because of you right now.

“Do you want to stop playing games and tell each other the truth now, or what?” You took another step closer, leaving you only mere inches apart. Hook was taken back by your sudden boldness and was left tongue tied like he always gets when he’s so close to finally, finally confessing his feelings for you.

Looking up into his round, dark eyes you can see that he was having all kinds of emotions coursing through him and it was likely you weren’t going to get a confession out of him first.

“You know what me and Jack were talking about before you showed up?” You asked, watching as Hook’s brows knitted and that tension returned to his face at just the mention of Jack’s name.

“Hm.” He hummed sternly.

“We were talking about you, and how you and I need to finally stop acting like nervous middle schoolers and finally admit how we feel about each other, because apparently we’re a hot topic around this place. Apparently we’ve been madly in love with each other from day one and everyone knows it but us.”

You laughed your way through the confession that wasn’t as much of one as you wanted it to be, and Hook wasn’t sure whether to take that and run with it or keep those feelings bottled up inside. As much as he wanted to admit everything to you, he still wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same way for him, and the last thing he wanted was to lose his best friend completely.

“That’s- damn. Didn’t know we were like, talked about so much.” He shifted on his feet as the nervousness crashed through him in another strong, unsteady wave.

“Me either.” You suddenly felt too nervous to look into his eyes. Your attention adverts to the floor where the tops of his shoes and yours were just a few centimeters from touching. Picking your head up you realize he was even closer now, and there was so much to be said but suddenly you couldn’t even fathom a single word.

Hook’s calloused hands cupped your cheeks gently. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, tell me now.” His raspy voice let out in a low, strong whisper. Your lips parted as if you were going to speak but nothing came out and as he moved in closer, you raised up on your tip toes and there was only a split second that passed before you felt his soft, plump lips land on yours, and as gentle as the kiss was, it ignited something extremely powerful within both of you instantly.

The taste of two types of mints lingered and intermingled between your mouth and his and it was going to be a flavor you craved from here on out.

Months. You both thought about this exact moment for months and finally it was happening and it was even better than your dreamiest fantasy. Hook was gentle and slow and the softness of his lips paired with the rough stubble prickling your skin was an experience all on its own. It was everything you never knew you needed and when he pulled away, you instantly craved him again.

His hands stayed cupping your cheeks as his thumbs gently dusted over your smooth skin, admiring secretly how silky smooth it was beneath the calloused pads. There wasn’t much you two could even fathom at that moment, both way too taken back to form words, and you were about to lean in again when you heard slow clapping from down the hallway.

You two immediately broke apart and put as much distance as possible between each other, Hook’s cheeks reddened deeply matching yours when you saw that the claps belonged to Taz.

“It’s about damn time.” He belted out with a hearty laugh that boomed down the hallway. “I hate to break up this love fest but Hook, your match is up next.”

That’s when Hook glanced at his watch and realized the time. He had two minutes to get to the gorilla. “Shit.” He muttered. “Can I meet you back here afterwards?” He asked, and you quickly nodded, unable to keep your smile from spreading widely across your face. Hook nodded back, then leaned in and placed a quick peck to your cheek before rushing off down the hallway to a waiting, smiling taz.

He threw his arm around his son as they headed towards the gorilla, and before they disappeared you heard the words, “You finally did it son. Fucking finally!”

[harmshake]

Midnight Snack

Your late night guest, Daniel Garcia, has a sweet tooth...but not for food.

Daniel Garcia x Fem Reader (1st person, black fem) | 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut | ~5k words

a/n: This story is based on a sexy lil dream I had about this cutie. 🤭

Happy reading! Read my other Danny fics and stuff here, if you'd like. ✨

Living in Manhattan was a luxury I never thought I would be able to afford. It's New York City and the penthouse apartment I rented would be almost impossible to afford with my salary alone. Since I lived by myself in a three-bedroom and two-bathroom loft, I learned to get resourceful and decided to sublet the spare space to whoever needed it. 

I usually attracted tourists who visited NYC for a few days. I always made my home inviting with a welcome tour; complimentary snacks in a special cupboard and shelf in the refrigerator in my kitchen; and a candle with the scent of their choice for their temporary bedrooms. It was a good gig that paid the bills and then some—and it suddenly got even better when I noticed two familiar names book a night for this weekend.

As I sat in bed with a glass of wine and scrolled through my reservations to gather a list of groceries and goodies to buy beforehand, my usual routine on Sunday nights, I nearly coughed up my Chardonnay when I saw Chris Jericho and Daniel Garcia appear as two upcoming guests. I was a huge pro wrestling fan and adored All-Elite Wrestling—especially Daniel, my favorite member of The Jericho Appreciation Society.

When I watched him wrestle (or "sports entertain" as he would rather people call it), my eyes would be glued to him and his handsome babyface, his lean yet toned body, and his adorable, little hip dances he would taunt his opponents with. He was hilarious, sexy, and a treat to watch on television…and he would be staying a night in my penthouse, oh my god.

I knew exactly why Daniel and Chris were in Manhattan: The AEW House Rules tour passed through NYC this weekend. I already had my ticket. I was a bit shocked that they hadn’t booked some fabulous hotel in town where the venue was, but I figured since they seemed to be traveling alone together they were trying to save money where they could—and I did have pretty great rates. Either way, I was thrilled, no, losing my ever-loving mind that they decided to bunk here.

I spent each day until they checked in agonizing over every detail of my apartment as it had to be perfect for them. Cleaned until it was spotless. Stocked the kitchen with an assortment of sweet and savory goodies. Extra soft linens for the bedrooms. By the time Friday night arrived, I was confident Daniel and Chris would enjoy their stay—but my heart was still trying to escape my chest as I waited for them to emerge from my private elevator. 

I couldn’t help it…Daniel Garcia was about to be here, in the flesh, and inside of my home. I tried and failed to not pace near the lobby as I checked my cell phone a dozen times. Chris gave me a heads up that they would be here late, like past midnight, and he apologized in advance for keeping me awake just to let them in, but I didn’t mind at all. It was only 12:12 am and I was wide awake and ready to greet them.

As the elevator's double doors slid open and two tall men carrying duffel bags strolled into my sight, I fought not to squeal in excitement. It was really them, like, actually Daniel Garcia and Chris Jericho ten feet away from me. They both looked slightly exhausted like they’d been riding in a car all day, but they both wore warm, friendly smiles as they spotted me. It made a stupidly big smile spread on my face, too.

I prayed I looked as decent as two hours' worth of teasing my afro into a puff ponytail atop my head; coordinating my burgundy, crop-top sweatsuit to match my furry slippers that showed off my cute, pastel-pink-painted toenails; and moisturizing every inch of my coconut-brown skin until I was soft and smelled like vanilla.

And when Daniel's deep brown eyes fell on mine before they dropped over my round, yet curvy body, I believed those two hours were well worth it...

It felt like he could see right through my clothes the way his gaze lingered before he looked into my eyes again and flashed the most beautiful smile. “Hey, thanks for waitin’ up. We promise we’re the nicest guests you’ll ever have,” Daniel said in an apologetic tone yet his deep voice was a bit teasing and flirty.

“Yeah, sorry again we got in so late,” Chris said, pulling his sunglasses to the top of his head as he came over to shake my hand. Both men towered over me and made me feel shorter than I already was, but I liked it…and I liked how Daniel looked down at me with a sexy, little smirk on his full, pink lips. 

“No worries, guys. Welcome in.” My heart was pounding hard again but I refused to be a Fangirl™ who couldn’t handle meeting her fave. I took a discreet, deep breath to steady my nerves before I touched my hand to his when he extended it for a handshake…and dammit, he had the biggest, softest, and warmest hands. It made me twitch and I knew he felt it when his lips twitched into another smirk as he let me go. 

“Lemme give you a lil tour before you crash. Y’all look tired,” I replied in almost one run-on sentence as I spoke a bit fast from my nerves, and Daniel’s hands, making me feel delightful yet jumpy. The lobby opened up to the kitchen, dining, and living room so the only spaces to guide them to were their bedrooms. As I led them through my penthouse and opened the door to the first bedroom, I said, “This is your room, Daniel.”

"Is that your room there?" he pointed to the door down the hall.

"No, that's Chris's. I'm in the master across the loft."

He nodded but there was something in his eyes that read like disappointment...

Not only could I read those eyes, I could feel them on my ass as I walked ahead of them to show them the rest of the place. It made my nerves want to act up again until he soothed them with his easygoing charm. The entire time he threw out little quips, making me giggle, and I teased him back, making him chuckle, too.

“What do we do if we need to get a hold of you for…emergencies?” he asked.

“For emergencies, call 911. For more toilet paper, you can just text me.”

“Hmm. I'll just knock on your door if you don’t mind...”

Afterward, both men retired to their bedrooms to shower and unwind. I wound up in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and Daniel showed up, too...and of course, we brushed past each other when he grabbed a red bag of Doritos from the snack cabinet. My ass accidentally grazing his thigh made us both give each other a heated look, but we pulled away…

I thought I would be sleepy after waiting all day for Daniel and Chris to show up, yet I was wired as hell and couldn’t shut my eyes. I'd threw on my pink tank top and Soffe shorts and crawled into bed, but I was just too excited to have one of my favorite wrestlers (and my pathetic crush) in my home. I laid there for an hour wide awake as my mind tortured me with visions of Daniel lying in his bed across the loft…under the sheets…in his pajamas…or completely naked.

It truly was torture so I pulled out my laptop and watched some old Botchamania episodes on YouTube, my favorite thing to do when I couldn’t sleep. While I could have stayed in my bed to do that, I decided to lounge in the dark living room, sprawled out on my sectional sofa with AirPods in my ears and my laptop as the only light source on the coffee table. I was hyper-aware that Daniel was only a few feet away and I kind of hoped he would pop out so I could see him...but I tried to be normal and just watch my silly, little wrestling botch web series.

Yet when I heard a nearby door creak open and saw light spill out that flooded the living room, it took everything in me not to crane my neck and watch him. I could see the silhouette of his shadow stretch across the living room when he opened my refrigerator, probably in search of another midnight snack. But then his shadow grew bigger as he approached the couch...

“Whatchu still doin’ up? Watchin’ a movie?” Daniel quietly asked behind me. I felt his weight shift the backrest cushions as he leaned his elbows on them. I took out my earbuds and put on the coffee table before I glanced up at him and his eyes shifting from my laptop to mine, making warmth spread through my chest. He had such gorgeous, brown eyes that had an impish glint in them, even in the soft, blue lighting from my laptop screen.

“If you must know, I’m watching Botchamania,” I said, trying to hide the impish smile threatening to grow on my lips at the fact that he chose to talk to me instead of going to bed at this hour—especially when I noticed his hands were empty after rummaging through the kitchen…

“Oh, you a wrestlin' fan? Ah, shit. Hope you don't catch me on there lookin’ stupid,” Daniel said with a smirk.

“I don’t think you don't need much help with that,” I teased him with a smirk, too. It made him laugh before he rounded the couch and loomed over me by my feet. He looked so good in his black tank top that exposed his bulky arms and hugged all of his other muscles. He had it tucked into matching sweatpants and I strained to keep my eyes away from his crotch where his bulge peeked through...

“Well, damn. Lemme watch witchu.” He went to plop down but then let out a grunt at my feet on the cushion under his butt. “Ay, you hoggin’ up the whole couch. Ain't this supposed to be the ‘living room?’ Scoot over and let me live, please.”

I giggled before I replied, “You can live it up over there on the armchair,” and pointed at it on the other end of my coffee table. Daniel shook his head like that just wouldn’t do.

“Nah, I wanna sit right here…” He dared to grab me up by my ankles and take a seat, throwing my legs over his lap. His sudden touch made that warmth in my chest move lower on me, the heat between my legs rising to feel his heat on me. Yet I did my best to hide my surprise as I playfully glared at him.

“So you just makin’ yourself comfortable in my space?” I said and he shrugged as a cute grin tugged at his lips.

“While I’m here, this is my space, too,” Daniel joked. He’d been cautious to keep his hands off my legs, tucking them behind his head after he sat down. But then he slowly placed them over my bare calves, his soft palms on me making me shiver. “Besides…I ain’t got comfortable yet.”

“Oh?” I breathed as his touch carefully massaged up to my knee.

“Yeah…if we cuddled, I think we’d both be more comfortable.” His fingers brushed along my thigh and I bit back a moan as this felt unreal. Daniel being a guest in my home was one thing…but flirting with me with his hands on me was a whole other thing. Yet the look in his eyes as he waited for my response let me know he had more in mind than cuddling…and I was down for that.

“Okay, but this is a small couch. How are we gonna cuddle comfortably?” I challenged him, licking my lips.

“It's simple. You put this thigh here…” He rolled onto his knees on the cushion and softly gripped my right thigh to put around his left hip. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest and my pussy as he spread my legs…

“And this one here…” He rested my left thigh on his right hip. Then he leaned down to gently rest his weight on top of me. My breath hitched to feel him between my legs, to feel his warm breath graze my face as he hovered a few inches away…

“My hands go here…” Daniel said in a hushed tone as his hands slid beneath me to hold me in his arms. “And my lips go here…”

He pressed his pillow-soft lips to mine for a kiss that made that warmth swallow my entire body. I closed my eyes and melted into him instantly, letting his lips lead the slow kiss that made slight smacking sounds as it grew deeper quickly. My hands reached for him, fondling both sides of his face and savoring his flavor, half minty from his toothpaste and half his natural taste, my pussy responding to both as I felt it throb from his saliva on my taste buds when he teased his tongue into my mouth.

The quiet moan I’d been fighting back escaped me as Daniel’s lips fell to my neck. I heard him breathe a chuckle as he kissed my collarbone, as well as my cleavage that peeked through my tank top. “You smell really good. That vanilla?” he murmured against my skin and I nodded with a shy grin. Then one of his hands found their way to the hem of my top that he lightly tugged. “May I…?”

“Yes, you may,” I whispered and he tugged it until my bare, big breasts spilled out. He scooped them into his bigger hands and covered them in kisses, his lips suckling my nipple before he moved on to the other one. I struggled not to moan again as I was acutely aware that we were not alone in my penthouse like I always fantasized…but my heavy breaths threatened to dip into groans as Daniel kissed his way down my stomach. 

And he kept going, scooting back on the couch to fit his head between my thighs that he kissed as he held them to his lips. He gazed up at me with that impish glint filling his eyes before his lips planted a kiss on my pussy behind my shorts. He felt me shiver again as he rubbed his cheek on my thigh. “Can I ask another question?” he asked.

“What's that?” I asked back, already willing to say yes...

“May I…get a taste?”

I nodded almost immediately and he moved just as quickly to pull my shorts to the side with his thumb. Feeling the cool air of my living room caress my humid heat compelled a desperate sigh from me…but that sigh rolled into a hushed moan when Daniel’s warm tongue gently caressed my soft pussy lips as he made them blossom like petals of a flower into his mouth. I slapped a hand over my mouth as I watched him cover me with long, slow flicks up to my clit and down to my little hole. Over...and over...and over. I already felt my body giving into hot tingles of pleasure as a long, raspy moan spilled out of me that was too much for my palm to catch, and I prayed Chris didn’t hear it.

“Oh, shit...that sounded sexy,” Daniel pulled back to tell me. “I need these off you so I can hear you moan like that again.”

He went to roll down my shorts and I nodded helplessly, craving more of his mouth. Once they landed on the floor, his mouth landed back on my pussy, lapping between my wet folds like he wanted them wetter. I couldn’t stop my fingers from wriggling into his hair to hold him right where I needed him: his warm, wet tongue dragging along my clit in sweet circles. I could feel my wetness starting to drip down my cheeks and onto the cushion, but I didn’t care…I was more concerned with that tingling, hot pressure building below his tongue on my clit that had me ready to scream.

“Unnhhh, I'm close…” I softly cried before I clapped one of my hands back to my mouth.

“Yeah? I wanna hear how you moan when you cum...” Daniel mumbled to my pussy as his eyes met mine. “Unh unh, now. Take your hand off your mouth. Lemme hear them sexy sounds you make.”

“But Chris might hear,” I complained.

“Fuck him,” he grumbled, and then I giggled.

“But he's trying to sle—”

Daniel shut me up by dropping his head back down and tracing my clit with those luscious circles until I moaned for him again. I felt his lips curl into a smile before they wrapped around my clit. “Whatchu was sayin’?” he asked and I couldn’t help but grin as I bit my lip. 

“Nothing…” I gave in and let him lick more of those circles around my clit until my chest heaved up and down, that searing hot pressure swelling inside me as he devoured me. And when he worked his thick, middle fingers into me, pushing them up on my g-spot that needed that stroke, my thighs trembled around his head as I moaned, “Mmmunhh, right there…I'm cumming.”

Daniel didn’t let up until my heated orgasm finished seizing my body which convulsed on the couch and in his grasp. Damn, I hadn't cum that hard awhile...

...And he was prolonging my pleasure as he didn’t seem to be in a rush to remove his fingers, instead studying me as his pretty eyes caught mine. I was embarrassed by how my attempt to stifle my moans turned them into squeaks and squeals, but he just smiled that impish smile at me when he felt my pussy throb in his hand as he gingerly rubbed his thumb on my tender clit. 

“Fuuuck,” I whined with another ripple of my afterglow that wouldn’t settle with his fingers still nudged up on my tender g-spot.

“I would pull out but your pussy is still grippin’ on my fingers...that nut was powerful, huh? Damn, I'm good,” Daniel goaded me as he licked me off his pink lips. He left teasing kisses on my thighs that felt as sensitive as my pussy and it tickled, making me giggle and moan at the same time.

“It was aight,” I teased him back and his cute face scrunched up as he feigned being hurt.

“Let me try again then…” 

He took his time sliding his fingers out that he then slid into his mouth to clean them of my sticky nectar. The sight made me want to moan again but I held it together…but then he sat up on his knees again to reveal his bulge that was hard and long as it twitched behind his sweats. It made my pussy twitch just looking at it as he laced his fingers around it to squeeze it and show off how thick it was in his right hand.

“Can I try with this?” Daniel asked quietly and I nodded, anxious to see it in the flesh. It flopped out over the hem of his boxers and sweats when he slowly pulled them down to show me. Thick, heavy, and chocolate-brown…I wanted to taste it.

“Yes…” I replied just as quietly before I leaned up to skim my fingertips along it, lifting it to my lips. He let out a sexy, breathy grunt when I let my tongue sweep across his tip, back and forth, keeping my rhythm along his shaft as I sucked him into my mouth. I got an inch beyond halfway before I realized I wasn’t going to be able to fit anymore without gagging. I thought about pushing myself to swallow him, especially when I could taste that he was close as his flesh grew saltier with his precum flowing onto my tongue. I wanted him to finish down my throat...but when I looked up at him he was looking down at me with lust for something else swirling in his eyes…

“You don’t wanna cum in my mouth?” I held his dick in my hand to ask but I licked along his length as I waited for his answer, making him moan to me.

“While you grind on me...”

“Oh okay...then hold on a sec,” I said with my coy yet impish smile and Daniel shot me a smirk before I shot off the couch and to my bedroom to look for the box of condoms I stashed in my closet. When I came back to the living room, he was sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide, his sweatpants on the carpet next to my shorts. The sight of him half-naked with his hard dick in his hand as he slowly stroked it made heat shoot through my body…

I fell to my knees and rolled the condom on him as he held himself still for me. He looked into my eyes as I stood up again and he asked softly, “You ready to sit on this dick?"

Another heatwave trickled through my body as I nodded, biting my lip as I climbed onto his lap to straddle his waist. It had only been a few months since my last hookup, but this felt like my first time as my heart thudded again to feel his lips on mine…and his blunt tip as it pushed inside me as I sat down on him slowly.

“Mmmm, shit,” I mumbled into our kiss. Daniel felt big and even with his hands on my waist to help me ease him inside, I was getting woozy from how drunk and full he had me already. His dick nudged on my every sweet spot as he took his time nestling himself inside of me. I hid my face in the crook of his neck and shoulder to hopefully hide my moans as he started to grind into me, slow swivels that made me grab at his tank top with both hands and nip at his neck with my teeth as fuck, that felt good…

“This must be your spot…right here…isn’t it?” Daniel whispered to me as he buried himself in me, grinding his dick on my g-spot. He was right as my body was heating up like I was catching fire, my pussy feeling warm and vulnerable to his every thrust. I couldn’t respond with words as I merely let out a soft moan in his ear, trembling against him. “Yeah, I can feel it…look how I got you shakin’ on me. I'm too good,” he answered for me and made me grin.

“Shut…up,” I managed to whine but it was quickly cut off by another moan as he held himself on my sweet spot.

“Nah, I like talkin’ while I'm in it and I think you do, too. Listen to how you moan for me…” Daniel said softly as he gripped my ass in his hands now, kissing my neck as I kissed his while he broke me down into another whimpering, panting orgasm. “Music to my ears…fuck, mmmn. I feel you grippin’ me again...go ahead and nut on this dick...”

I was at a loss for words again as I felt my body leave my control with those succulent heatwaves that matched the rhythm of my pussy spasming around his dick. I adored the breathy sounds that Daniel made as he moaned with me, squeezing me in his hands. I didn’t know when I came to and regained control of the pace, but somewhere within seeking every last drop of the intense pleasure he made drip from me, I wound up holding onto his shoulders and bouncing on him until our hips were slick and squelching with my juices and our sweat. I knew the sounds of our sloppy sex probably echoed throughout the silent loft at this point, but I couldn't...stop...

Not when pouncing on his big dick like this made him hit deeper, made it hurt so good. I was determined to take all of him—even as it made me feel damn near lightheaded. 

And not when the sultry look that seized his handsome face, his lips pouty and eyes squinted as he watched me fuck him, made me want to feel him cum…

“Goddamn…ride this dick. Mmmn, no pares...móntame. Just like that,” Daniel grunted with that sexy, breathy moan of his before he bit his lip. My pussy clenched around him to briefly hear his native tongue in my ear, making him moan and slap a hand to my ass before he grabbed at it again. That was loud yet the slight sting and the way he bottomed me out with each thrust made me nearly yelp louder. He covered my mouth with his as he grasped me in his big hands before he quietly gasped, “You're gonna make me cum…unnhh, shit.”

I couldn't help but sob and gasp, too, feeling him hold me still as he wedged himself into my stomach and came hard. It felt like my head was spinning to witness and feel something so beautiful from a man I never thought I’d meet, let alone have inside as his dick throbbed for me. It felt surreal but his hands, his mouth, and his body on mine felt so warm, so soft, and so hard at the same time as his muscles tensed while he crushed me in his arms, his lips crushed to mine.

I didn’t want it to end, but when I finally crawled off his lap and rolled the filled condom off of him, I could tell from his cute, droopy eyes he was satisfied and spent. A yawn flew out of me at the same time because so was I, but I didn’t want to go back to my room alone…

“Guess you're goin’ to bed now?” Daniel asked as he observed me as I went to throw the condom into the kitchen waste bin. I noticed the time on my microwave read 2:32 am. I came back with a couple of hand towels to clean up myself and handed one to him as he slowly stood to do the same.

“I think so...it's late and I am pretty sleepy now,” I replied with another yawn, covering my mouth and watching him wipe my juices from his groin as his face broke into a naughty grin. "What?" I asked as we pulled back on our pants.

“I wore that ass out, huh?” he said haughtily and I went to mock-punch him in the arm, but he snatched my fist into his and kissed my knuckles. “Come cuddle with me,” he added in a whisper and I felt myself shiver with a blush.

“That’s all we’re doing, right? Because I see how you like to 'cuddle' and I’m ready for bed,” I whispered back as he kissed my wrist and then my arm before he pulled me into his arms altogether. I blushed harder to feel his body surround me as I rested my head on his chest, feeling the soft pattering of his heartbeat on my cheek.

“Me, too. It’ll be innocent, promise,” Daniel assured me. And when we tiptoed to his room near Chris’s and fell into his bed, he made good on his promise. He snuggled up behind me as the big spoon, securing me to his broad chest again, our bodies so close, warm, and cozy under his comforter that I fell asleep before he could finish telling me good night.

He was a heavy sleeper as the next day I woke up before him and pried myself from beneath his hefty arm to sneak back into my bedroom across the loft. I would have loved to cuddle with him all morning, but I didn’t want Chris to realize I’d spent the night in Daniel’s room. I was a grown-ass woman but I rather he minded his business.

Yet as the three of us stood in the kitchen a couple of hours later, the men sipping on coffee I just brewed and munching on blueberry muffins from the glass cake stand on my island counter, Chris glared at Daniel from behind his steaming, beige mug. 

“Were you watching fucking porn late last night in the living room?” he asked him and my eyes widened. Thankfully Chris’s eyes were steadfast with disgust on his travel partner. “I was too exhausted to get up and tell you to turn that shit off, but I was like, ‘What the fuck is going on?’"

Daniel shot me a smoldering look of his own that made me tremble in my black, silk robe, a hint of a smirk on his lips, but the entire thing was so fast Chris didn’t seem to notice. But then he looked my way for validation about Daniel and I struggled not to choke on my bite of muffin in my mouth.

“Uh, yeah. I, um, heard it, too, and it woke me up. Very rude," I murmured after I swallowed, playing along and glaring at Daniel, too. I could tell he had to stifle his laugh when his lips quivered and he took another sip of coffee.

“My bad. I guess I shoulda worn headphones, but I didn’t think this place had crazy reverb like that…” he apologized, throwing me a phony, dejected pout with sad puppy eyes that made me bite my lip to keep from giggling.

“Jesus, I can't take this guy anywhere. Sorry about that," Chris then apologized and I nodded devoutly. Neither Daniel nor I could make eye contact after that unless we wanted to burst out laughing.

It wasn’t until they were packed up and headed out shortly afterward that we finally caught each other’s gaze. We stood in the lobby together as he let his smoldering eyes bore into mine, making that familiar warmth hug me all over before he dared to take a step closer to me and put his arms around me.

“You better hope Chris takes a while in the bathroom,” I warned as he leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips. Yet the way his mouth moved on mine as he tasted my tongue and held me close had me suddenly not giving a damn if he did catch us…

“What's he gonna do? Stop me from comin’ to see you? He ain’t my dad.” Daniel sucked his teeth and I giggled.

“When are you comin' to see me?!” I asked in an incredulous breath, my hands on his chest. I was fully prepared to savor the experience for what it was since what we did last night still felt wild, like once-in-a-lifetime wild…

“Next time I’m home in Buffalo…if that’s cool with you,” he replied and gave me another quick kiss that made my heart pound between my legs before we heard footsteps coming up the hallway. 

“It’s cool,” I purred, my eyelids a little low from his dreamy kiss and his strong hands slipping from around my waist. 

We were still standing awkwardly close when Chris appeared, yet he swiped up his duffel bags from the wooden floor and thanked me for a lovely stay. I had to convince myself that it wasn’t all a dream as they piled into my elevator with their luggage and waved goodbye.

Yet as Daniel locked those devilish, deep brown eyes on me and mouthed, “I’ll call you,” as the double doors closed, I knew he was going to bring my delicious fantasies to life again. I couldn’t wait for another taste.

.

.

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Thanks for reading! 💜

Hey, my first AEW fanfiction! And it had to be Daniel because that's my baby boy and I miss him on my screen. 🥹

Hope you enjoyed! 😈

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[honeydippedfiction]

The Burden of Greatness

Prologue of Revved Up To Fight

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Summary: The prologue introduces Y/N Griffin, the heir to a legendary motorsport dynasty, raised in a world where racing is not just a passion but an expectation. As she grows, she grapples with the immense weight of her family’s legacy, ultimately questioning whether she races for herself or simply to fulfill the world’s expectations, setting the stage for a journey of self-discovery.

WC: 9.4k (she's looong lol I got carried away sorry)

Warnings: themes of family pressure, high expectations, self-doubt, and identity struggles, a racing accident, injury, emotional weight of legacy, burnout, and self-discovery

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The Griffin family was more than a name—it was a dynasty. To the world outside, they were motorsport royalty, icons whose achievements were woven into the very fabric of racing history. But to Y/N, they were simply family. Her grandfather’s records in Formula 1 still stood as monuments of speed and strategy, his name etched in the sport’s annals as one of the greatest to ever race. Her father had turned MotoGP into a stage for breathtaking audacity, riding like a man possessed, rethinking the very essence of what it meant to push the limits of human endurance and mechanical precision. And her mother—her mother was a legend in her own right, a woman whose dominance in IndyCar was less about brute force and more about an almost spiritual connection to the track, a quiet master of strategy, timing, and grace under pressure.

The Griffins didn’t just race; they defined racing. Their triumphs had become part of motorsport folklore, told and retold at every track, in every garage, on every pit wall. They were pioneers—risk-takers who had turned the sport into an art form. They had shaped it. Molded it. Redefined it. 

From the day Y/N was born, the world had made up its mind. There would be no “if” about it; the question was always when. She wasn’t just another racer, another aspiring champion. She was the heir apparent to a legacy so great, it was almost impossible to imagine anything but the highest of expectations. Destiny, as far as the world was concerned, had already been written in the stars. 

But for Y/N, the weight of that legacy was something far more intimate. It wasn’t about living up to the stories told about her family’s triumphs. It wasn’t about proving anything to anyone. It was about something simpler, more profound: living up to the quiet, unspoken legacy that had been passed down to her in ways she had never truly understood until much later. 

Sunday nights at the Griffin house were never typical. There were no lazy meals or casual chats. There was always a blueprint spread across the table, a car engine in various stages of disassembly, and race footage flickering across the television screen, paused mid-turn as her father’s voice—deep and steady—talked through tire pressure and aerodynamics. “The car,” he would often say, “it’s not just a machine. It’s an extension of you.” 

Her mother’s words were quieter, precise, her voice a soft, calculated hum that cut through the air like the hum of an engine coming to life. “Perfection,” she’d whisper, “is in the details. Watch the line. Every millisecond matters.” There was no room for error. The world they inhabited was one of constant improvement, of never settling, of always pushing towards that elusive thing called perfection. 

To Y/N, these weren’t just lessons; they were a way of life. Her parents were more than just her mentors—they were the architects of her world. From the time she could walk, she was never handed toy cars or dolls. Instead, they put wrenches in her hands and showed her how to use them. They taught her how to take apart and rebuild an engine before she had even learned to properly tie her shoes. 

The house wasn’t filled with the usual memorabilia of childhood. There were no stuffed animals, no posters of pop stars or superheroes. Instead, the walls of the Griffin household were adorned with photographs of races long past, faded trophies gleaming in the corners of rooms that smelled faintly of gasoline and leather. Y/N’s childhood was a laboratory of sorts—a place where racing was the answer to every question, and family was the force that held it all together.

Her earliest memories weren’t of parks or playgrounds, but of race tracks. Of the smell of fuel in the air, the roar of engines, the metallic hum of pit crews in their choreography of precision. She was there, in the pit lane, wide-eyed and breathless, as her parents worked their magic, tweaking settings and adjusting valves with the kind of calm intensity only those born into racing understood. For others, the sound of a revving engine might have been deafening. For Y/N, it was a symphony. 

Her grandfather, sitting next to her with his weathered hands resting on the back of the pit wall, would often point out to the track. “Monaco,” he’d say, his voice gravelly but steady, “it’s about control. It’s about patience.” He’d recount the glory of his victory, detailing every twist and turn of the track as if it were etched into his bones. And Y/N, sitting on his knee, absorbed it all—each word, each piece of wisdom. 

Her father, always the adventurer, would take her up to the podium after his victories, lifting her high into the air as though the triumph was hers, too. And in a way, it was. He’d tell her, with a proud grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “You’re next. You’ll be up here someday. But remember, it’s about more than winning. It’s about making every second count.” 

And then there was her mother. Quiet, reserved, always with a plan. Before her first karting session, her mother had knelt before her, adjusted her helmet, and whispered the words that would stay with her forever. “You’re a Griffin, Y/N. You don’t just race—you set the standard.” 

The Griffin family wasn’t just supportive; they were all in. Their belief in Y/N was not a passive thing—it was active, deliberate, and persistent. Her father wasn’t just content to let her watch from the sidelines; he became her first teacher, guiding her hands as she turned the wrenches, his voice always calm but firm, explaining the physics of a turn or the importance of throttle control. Her mother, ever the strategist, was always the one to help her perfect her technique, breaking down complex moves into bite-sized, understandable bits. She could see the potential in Y/N long before Y/N saw it in herself.

When Y/N first raced, it wasn’t with an overwhelming sense of competition. It was with a deep-rooted sense of connection—connection to the car, to the track, to the generations of Griffins who had come before her. Her father, meticulously adjusting her kart’s bolts, would look her in the eye and say, “You’ve got this, kid. Just remember what I taught you: Feel the car. Don’t fight it.” Her mother, always composed, would be there at the starting line, helmet in hand, leaning in with the softest words of advice. “Breathe. Focus. Own the track.” 

The pressure of carrying the Griffin name, however, was something Y/N felt acutely. It was never spoken directly—it didn’t need to be. Every time she won, every time she stood atop the podium, the expectations of the world seemed to double. Every small mistake, every failure, felt magnified. Yet, in those moments of solitude, after the race had ended and the cheers had faded, her family was always there to remind her that the journey wasn’t about comparison. It wasn’t about matching the past—it was about creating her own future.

As Y/N grew older, the whispers started. Fans spoke her name with an air of inevitability, as if she were simply waiting for her time to emerge. Journalists speculated—often with more fervor than accuracy—about her future. T-shirts bearing her name began to pop up alongside those with her family’s, emblazoned with slogans like “The Next Griffin Legend.” Her family, it seemed, had become a measuring stick for all who came after.

Yet, despite the weight of these expectations, Y/N carried herself with a quiet, unshakable confidence. She didn’t feel the need to chase her family’s history, to prove she was worthy of the name she bore. No. She wanted something more—something deeper. She wanted to honor their legacy, to carry the torch forward, but she also wanted to carve out her own story, a story that was uniquely hers, even if it was still intertwined with the threads of her family’s past.

The world might have been watching, but Y/N wasn’t looking over her shoulder. Instead, she looked forward, her gaze set firmly on the track ahead. It was a daunting path, filled with expectations and pressure, but Y/N wasn’t afraid. After all, she was a Griffin. And Griffins didn’t just race—they set the standard.

Y/N's first race was a quiet affair—nothing more than a local karting competition in a forgotten corner of the world, tucked away in a dusty lot surrounded by bleachers that had seen better days. For most young racers, it would have been a humble start, a first taste of the sport that might not have amounted to much more than a handful of local bragging rights. But for Y/N, this was the beginning of something far grander, an opening chapter in the story of her destiny.

At just eight years old, she slipped into a custom-fitted racing suit, its fabric snug against her small frame. Her name—Y/N Griffin—was embroidered neatly on the back, a quiet echo of a legacy she hadn’t yet begun to fulfill. As she pulled the helmet over her head, the weight of her family’s history felt distant, almost irrelevant. Here, in the stillness of that moment, there was no roaring crowd, no cameras flashing, no family legacy pushing her forward. There was only the track, and only her.

Her father crouched beside her, adjusting the straps of her helmet with his usual precision. His hands were steady, but his eyes, focused and intense, betrayed the pride he was trying to hide. “The race isn’t won in the first corner,” he said, his voice calm yet knowing. “But that’s where you can lose it. Stay sharp. Trust yourself.”

When the flag dropped, everything around her faded. The world became a blur of asphalt, rubber, and the growl of a kart that vibrated beneath her, its engine alive with power. She gripped the steering wheel, her small hands steady as the nerves that had threatened to rise seemed to disappear entirely. There was no Griffin name, no family pressure—only the race.

She didn’t win that day. Her kart crossed the finish line a few places behind the leader, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was how she raced. Her control on the track, her ability to read the turns, and her cool-headedness in the midst of chaos stood out. She wasn’t just a kid trying to race—she was learning, adapting, and above all, she was growing. 

Her family saw it immediately. Her father’s sharp gaze never left the track, watching as his daughter took each corner with uncanny precision. Her mother, standing near the pit lane, gave a small, approving nod. Y/N wasn’t just racing. She was beginning her journey in the same way her family had—on her terms.

From that first race, Y/N was hooked. The world of karting was her crucible, the place where she began to refine her skills, her technique, and her understanding of the sport. It wasn’t just the adrenaline that fueled her; it was the pulse of the competition, the thrill of the chase, the dizzying rush of passing a rival by mere inches, and the split-second decisions that made the difference between victory and defeat. 

Karting, with its tight corners and rapid acceleration, taught her the value of patience and precision. Each race was an opportunity to perfect her craft, to peel away at the layers of her own abilities and uncover the racer hidden beneath. 

Weekends became a blur of travel and racing, the familiar hum of the kart's engine a constant companion. When the races were over, the work didn’t stop. Y/N spent her weekdays tinkering with her kart, adjusting carburetors, studying engine specs, and constantly pushing the boundaries of what she could do with the machines. And when she wasn’t hands-on with her kart, she was at home, watching race footage—her parents’ wins, her mistakes, the greats of motorsport who had come before her. Every turn, every maneuver, every hesitation—she dissected it all, her young mind hungry for improvement.

Her parents, always in her corner, took on their roles with dedication. Her father, the motivator, pushed her harder than anyone could. “You need to brake later, Y/N. Feel the track. Push it.” Her mother, the strategist, taught her how to outthink her opponents. “It’s not just about who’s fastest. It’s about how you race.” Their teachings were complementary, a perfect balance of instinct and intellect, the very foundation of her rise to prominence.

Y/N wasn’t just racing to win. She was racing to dominate. And it was clear to everyone—especially her family—that she wasn’t just a prodigy. She was a force.

By the time Y/N turned 12, it was evident that karting was no longer enough. Her talents had outgrown the circuit, and the world of motorsports beckoned with a myriad of opportunities. But Y/N wasn’t content to simply conquer one discipline—she wanted to prove herself across the board.

It was time to branch out.

Her first foray into rallycross was a revelation. The sport, with its wild slides and gravel-churning corners, required an entirely new set of skills. But Y/N adapted seamlessly, her karting precision translating effortlessly to the unpredictable terrain. The art of control, of mastering the slide, became a natural extension of the technique she had spent years honing.

Next came dirt bikes. This was where Y/N learned fearlessness. She took to the dirt with the same tenacity she had shown on the tarmac, launching herself over jumps with an ease that belied her age. The rough trails, the high-speed descents, the sense of weightlessness as she soared above the ground—it was all part of the thrill. And it was here that Y/N discovered a different kind of rhythm, one that didn’t rely solely on smooth lines and perfect corners but on the thrill of the unknown, the unpredictability of nature.

Her experiments with single-seaters—low-tier cars that mimicked the high-speed elegance of Formula 1—further proved her versatility. Y/N was no longer confined to one style or one genre of racing. She was a racer in every sense of the word, adaptable and able to excel in a variety of disciplines. By the time she was 14, her trophy shelf was full, each medal a testament to her adaptability and raw talent. In every category she entered, Y/N didn’t just participate—she dominated.

At 16, Y/N’s career hit a new high. She had moved beyond local competitions and into the national circuits, competing with racers who were often several years older and much more experienced. Her name—once whispered in garage corners and paddocks—was now shouted in headlines and echoed in sponsorship meetings. The media took notice. Sponsors flocked to her, eager to align themselves with the rising star who was not only talented but magnetic.

Her victories were no longer just about skill—they were about her style. Fans adored her aggressive but calculated approach. She wasn’t reckless; she was fearless. Her ability to balance strategy with speed, to attack the track with an unrelenting drive, earned her the respect of competitors who knew exactly what it took to win. Y/N wasn’t just winning races; she was setting new standards. 

The wins kept coming—one after another, each more impressive than the last. But it wasn’t just her on-track performance that drew attention. Y/N had an authenticity that resonated off the track as well. Her smile, her energy, her genuine love for the sport were evident in everything she did. Media outlets heralded her as “the future of motorsports.” Commentators couldn’t get enough of her. 

But Y/N knew that the path she was carving was about more than just collecting trophies. She wasn’t just carrying the Griffin name into the future—she was redefining it.

With the victories came the weight of expectation. The world was watching, and the whispers of her family legacy were always in the background. Yet, Y/N wasn’t interested in just being a successor to the legends who had come before her. She wasn’t racing for the recognition or the fame; she was racing because it was her passion, her dream. 

As she entered her late teens, Y/N’s name was becoming one of the most talked-about in the world of motorsports. Her legacy was only just beginning to take shape, and yet, beneath the accolades and the applause, a new question began to take root: Was she racing because she loved it? Or was she racing because she felt she had no other choice?

It was a question that would shape the trajectory of her career. Because the answer, she realized, would determine not just her future in racing, but the very way she would define herself in a world that had already decided who she was. The next chapter of her life, her career, and her legacy depended on it.

As Y/N’s career soared, so too did the mounting weight of expectation. What had begun as a promising start, a young prodigy following in the tire tracks of legends, had evolved into something much bigger. The Griffin name, a symbol of dominance and innovation in motorsports, now came with a new layer of pressure. With every victory, every podium finish, the comparisons grew louder. 

“Is she the next Derrius?”  

“Can she surpass her grandfather’s records?”  

“Will she become the greatest Griffin to ever race?”

These questions were as constant as the roar of engines. They were present at every press conference, whispered among fans, and often, she could hear them echoing in her own mind long after the crowds had gone home. To the world, it was thrilling, a new chapter in an ongoing saga that had captured the imagination of motorsport fans everywhere. But for Y/N, it became suffocating. 

The weight of her family’s legacy, once a proud foundation, now felt like an unshakable burden. The pressure to meet expectations—both her own and others’—became a constant companion. Every race was no longer just about the thrill of competition or the joy of racing. It was a test of her worth. 

If she won, it was expected. Her grandfather’s records, her father’s titles, her mother’s legacy—every success she achieved felt like a mere continuation of something already set in stone. But when she lost, it was scrutinized, analyzed, and dissected as if each mistake reflected a flaw in the Griffin lineage itself. The media’s gaze was sharp, always searching for cracks, for signs that Y/N wasn’t quite what they had hoped for. Every miss, every off moment, felt like a personal failure.

Her family, supportive as ever, tried to shield her from the relentless noise of the media. Her mother, who had always seen the fine details others missed, reminded her time and time again, “Comparisons are inevitable, darling. But they don’t define you. Not unless you let them.” Her father, ever the rock, urged her to remember why she raced in the first place. “Feel the car, Y/N. The joy of racing isn’t in the records—it’s in the ride. Focus on that.”

But no matter how many times they spoke those words, the voice inside her head never quieted. “Is this what I really want?” she wondered. Racing had been her life for as long as she could remember, but was it her dream? Or had it always been someone else’s?

By the time she reached her late teens, Y/N began to question everything. The trophies, the accolades, the endless lines of sponsors eager to bask in her success—they all felt hollow at times. She loved racing, there was no doubt about that, but was she racing because she truly wanted to? Or was she simply fulfilling a role carved out for her long before she was born? 

Her family’s legacy had been passed down through generations, and she had inherited not just the talent, but the weight of history itself. It was not enough to simply be a good racer; she had to be the racer, the one who carried the Griffin name into the future. But what if that wasn’t what she wanted? What if the very thing that had shaped her life was now suffocating her spirit?

It wasn’t just about winning races anymore; it was about carving out a new identity. She didn’t want to be defined solely by the greatness of those who came before her. Y/N yearned for independence, for a space where she could define her own success—not as another Griffin, but as Y/N, the person who had something unique to offer.

And yet, the road to independence was fraught with uncertainty. How could she step away from a legacy that had already been etched into the annals of motorsport history? How could she abandon a sport that had shaped every fiber of her being? 

In the quiet moments between races, when the rush of adrenaline and the roar of the engines faded, those questions became harder to ignore. Was it time for her to find her own way, to redefine who she was, or was she doomed to live in the shadow of expectations for the rest of her life?

Then, it happened. The moment that would forever alter the course of her career—and her life.

It was supposed to be just another race. She had prepared for it with her usual meticulousness. The track was familiar, the car fine-tuned to perfection. She was in the zone, focused and ready, but in motorsports, as in life, things don’t always go as planned.

The collision was violent, a crash that seemed to unfold in slow motion, yet happened in an instant. Her car slammed into the barriers, metal screeching against metal, and everything around her dissolved into chaos. Her vision blurred, her thoughts scrambled, and then—silence.

When she opened her eyes again, she was in a hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic in the air and the low hum of machines surrounding her. The pain was sharp and undeniable, but it wasn’t just the physical injury that hurt the most. It was the realization that something deep inside her had shifted. Racing had always been her everything—the heart-pounding excitement, the thrill of pushing herself beyond her limits—but now, in the quiet of the hospital room, that spark seemed distant, cold. The joy she once found in the sport felt like a distant memory, something she had once possessed but had now lost.

She spent days in that sterile room, alone with her thoughts. The questions that had plagued her for months now became impossible to ignore. Had she lost her love for racing? Had the weight of the legacy crushed something she could never get back? More importantly, what was the point of pushing forward if the joy had vanished?

It took weeks of recovery, both physical and mental, before Y/N made the most difficult decision of her life: to step away from racing. It wasn’t a resignation. It wasn’t giving up. It was a pause—a chance to reflect, to rediscover who she was outside the confines of the track and the overwhelming expectations placed on her.

When she told her family, she braced herself for disappointment. Her father, ever the stoic pillar, simply hugged her tightly, his words soft and reassuring. “You’ve already done more than enough to make us proud, Y/N. Whatever you choose, we’ll support you.”

Her mother, who had always known how to see the bigger picture, nodded with understanding. “You need to live your dream, not ours. Find your own path, darling. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

The motorsport world reacted with shock. Fans speculated endlessly, with many wondering if the pressure had finally broken her. Critics questioned her decision, sponsors scrambled to adjust their strategies, and journalists speculated about what went wrong. 

But for Y/N, the noise of the outside world faded. For the first time in her life, she felt free. Free from expectations. Free from comparisons. Free from the weight of a legacy that had never been hers to begin with.

In that moment, Y/N made a vow to herself. No matter where life took her next, she would no longer race to meet the standards of others. She would race—if she chose to race at all—on her own terms.

—

It wasn’t until I lay there in that hospital bed, staring up at the sterile, white ceiling, that I fully grasped the weight I had been carrying all these years. The pressure, the expectations, the constant need to live up to the legacy that came with my name—it had all built up inside me, layer after layer, until it felt like I was drowning under its suffocating heaviness. Every race was no longer just a test of my skill or my passion for the sport; it had become a test of my worth. Could I live up to the standards set by my parents, my grandfather, by a family whose name was synonymous with greatness?  

I had spent my entire life running toward that goal, toward the idea of becoming the next great Griffin in motorsports. I thought I loved racing, and for a long time, I did. But as I lay there in the stillness of the hospital room, it occurred to me that maybe I hadn’t been racing because I loved it at all. Maybe I was just running away from the truth: I was chasing the shadow of a legacy that wasn’t truly mine.  

For years, the sound of engines roaring, the rush of the track beneath me, had been my heartbeat. But now, in the silence of my mind, a quiet voice asked: What if I want something different? 

That question had never crossed my mind before. My life had been carved out for me, shaped by the stories of my parents' triumphs and my grandfather's legendary records. How could I step away from that? How could I turn my back on a legacy that had been a part of me since birth? The thought was terrifying. But there, in that sterile room, I realized something—something crucial. I didn’t have to become the next great Griffin. I just needed to become me. 

When the doctors finally cleared me to leave the hospital, I went home, unsure of what to do next. But I knew one thing: I had to face my family. I couldn’t keep pretending that I wasn’t questioning everything. That day, as I sat with them in the living room—my parents, both sitting across from me, eyes full of concern—I felt the weight of their expectations. Their love. Their pride. It was in every glance they shared, every word they spoke. I couldn’t carry it any longer. 

And so, with a voice that trembled more than I’d care to admit, I said, “I think I need to step away.”

For a heartbeat, the room was silent. My mother’s eyes softened, her hand reaching out to take mine. My father stayed quiet, his expression unreadable, though I could see the tightness in his jaw. I braced myself for the disappointment I feared would follow. But instead, my mother squeezed my hand and said, “Y/N, you’ve already proven yourself. Now it’s time to figure out who you are beyond the track.”  

And just like that, something inside me broke free. The relief that washed over me was overwhelming. It was the first time in years that I hadn’t been afraid of disappointing them. In that moment, I realized they hadn’t been pushing me toward a legacy for the sake of their own pride. They just wanted me to be happy, to find fulfillment beyond the expectations of the world. Not just to be successful—but to be me. 

Now, as I look ahead, it’s both exhilarating and terrifying. I don’t have a path laid out for me. The road is completely unknown. For the first time in my life, it’s mine to pave. One step at a time, I’ll carve my own way. 

I have no idea where this journey will take me. But there’s one thing I know for sure: I’m ready to find out. 

---

The months that followed my decision to step away from racing were some of the most challenging I’d ever faced. Physical recovery was only part of it—the real battle was internal. Every muscle, every bone, every ligament in my body screamed for relief during therapy. But it wasn’t the pain of healing that haunted me. It was the emptiness. The silence that hung in the air when I wasn’t on the track, wasn’t chasing another goal. I’d spent my life racing toward something. Now, I was racing away from everything I had known. 

I was no longer driven by competition. The one thing that had always defined me—pushing myself past the limit, fighting to be the best—was suddenly gone. There was no finish line anymore. The absence of that goal felt like the most deafening thing I had ever encountered. 

In the midst of this new, quiet life, I sought out small ways to heal. I started journaling, pouring my thoughts and feelings onto the page as a way to understand the chaos swirling inside me. My journals became a mirror, reflecting everything I had tried to ignore. My emotions, my doubts, my fears—everything came to the surface in a way I hadn’t expected. It was difficult. But it was necessary. 

I also returned to the things I had enjoyed before racing had consumed me—painting, hiking, watching movies with my cousins. One afternoon, we decided to binge-watch old wrestling matches, something I hadn’t really thought about since I was a kid. I didn’t expect it to spark anything, but as I sat there, watching the legendary Trish Stratus face off against Lita, something stirred deep within me. I couldn’t put it into words right away, but I felt it—an electric thrill, a rush, an undeniable pull.

---

Wrestling had always been in the background of my life, a casual interest that my family indulged in every year when we tuned into WrestleMania. But that was all it was—entertainment. Something fun to watch, a distraction from the demands of our everyday lives. I never really saw it for what it was—a sport, yes, but also a spectacle. A carefully choreographed story that was told with every slam, every turn, every dramatic punch thrown in the ring. 

For the first time, though, I began to see it through a different lens. As I watched the matches unfold before me, I saw the athleticism—the precision, the discipline, the risk-taking that mirrored what I had once loved about racing. The wrestlers didn’t just compete; they performed. Each match was a narrative, a story of triumph, of rivalry, of overcoming odds. And they did it all with an audience that was captivated, hanging on every word, every move.  

It was the charisma of the wrestlers that truly grabbed me, though. Legends like The Rock could command a crowd with a single line. AJ Lee had the power to defy expectations with her every action, and Becky Lynch? She had the ability to turn every moment into an iconic one. The ability to weave a story, to make people feel something—this was what drew me in. 

Wrestling wasn’t just about the competition. It was about the drama, the performance, the connection with the audience. It was a way to tell your story, to shape your own narrative. And in that moment, I realized something profound—I had a story of my own that I wanted to tell.

I could feel it then, the stirring inside me—the same excitement I once felt when I raced. This was new. It was terrifying. But it was exhilarating, too. The thought of stepping into the ring, of feeling the crowd’s roar, of telling my story on my terms, was a rush unlike anything I had experienced before. 

It was a whole new world. And it was calling me. 

Wrestling wasn’t something I could just try out casually. If I was going to pursue this, it had to be serious. I wasn’t looking for a hobby. I wasn’t looking for a replacement for racing. I wanted something new, something that could build its own legacy—my legacy. And I was ready to chase it. 

I started researching wrestling schools, watching match after match, familiarizing myself with the industry. I didn’t know where to start, but I knew one thing: I was done running. This was my next chapter, and it was time to turn the page.

—

The realization came to Y/N with the sudden force of a freight train, an overwhelming clarity that struck her deep in her chest: she wanted to wrestle. Not as a fleeting hobby or a passing interest, but as her next chapter. It wasn’t just a desire for competition. It was the pull of something far more profound—a chance to reinvent herself completely. Wrestling offered everything she had once loved about racing: the adrenaline, the discipline, the commitment to constant self-improvement. But with wrestling, there was a new element, a new opportunity—reinvention. Here, she could carve out a completely different legacy, one that was hers and hers alone. 

For so long, she had been defined by the legacy of the Griffins. The weight of that name had pushed her forward, but also bound her to a path that wasn’t entirely her own. Every race, every win, every loss had been part of a story that had been written long before she even had a say in it. But now, as she reflected on what she truly wanted from life, it became clear: this was the time for her to write her own story, from scratch. Wrestling was the blank page she had been waiting for. 

It wasn’t a casual decision. Y/N’s approach was always all or nothing—whether it was racing or this new dream she was chasing. Her determination burned hotter than ever before. She threw herself into research, studying wrestling schools, watching hours upon hours of matches, learning about the history and nuances of the sport. She read about the greats, from Stone Cold Steve Austin to The Rock, and the pioneers who had transformed wrestling into the cultural force it was today. The fire she thought had long since extinguished in her was reignited—stronger, fiercer, and brighter than ever.

---

It wasn’t just about the wrestling moves. Y/N understood that now. It wasn’t enough to simply be good in the ring; in fact, that was only part of the equation. What truly made a wrestler unforgettable was their persona—the character they portrayed to the audience, the story they told. And who better to teach her how to build a persona than Nikki and Brie Bella?

When she first reached out to them, Y/N had been nervous. The Bella Twins were icons in the world of wrestling, known not only for their in-ring abilities but also for their savvy business sense. They had successfully transformed themselves into global brands, with legacies that stretched far beyond the squared circle. Y/N wasn’t sure if they’d even respond, let alone agree to mentor her. But much to her surprise, they were more than willing. 

Their first session wasn’t in a gym or a ring. It was in a sleek, high-end studio, with glass walls and whiteboards, and an atmosphere that hummed with professionalism. The Bellas wasted no time, launching straight into the art of crafting a character.

“Wrestling isn’t just about what you do in the ring,” Nikki said, her voice full of conviction. She paced back and forth in front of a whiteboard, her hands moving with purpose as she outlined character traits, stories, and personas. “It’s about who you are. Your entrance, your promos, how you connect with the fans—that’s what makes people remember you.”

Brie, always the grounding presence, nodded in agreement. “But it has to be real,” she added, her eyes locking with Y/N’s. “Fans can tell when you’re faking it. Authenticity is key.”

Under their guidance, Y/N began the painstaking process of building her wrestling persona. Nikki encouraged her to tap into bold, daring aspects of herself, urging her to explore traits that would electrify the audience, leaving them wanting more. At the same time, Brie pushed her to stay true to her roots, to weave in elements of her motorsport legacy—her confidence, her drive, and the fierce independence that came with being a Griffin. 

The work wasn’t easy. Crafting a persona that would resonate with millions required self-exploration, introspection, and, at times, vulnerability. But with the Bellas’ mentorship, Y/N grew more comfortable in her new identity. They worked on her mic skills, running mock promo sessions where Y/N would deliver lines with the same passion and intensity she once reserved for racing. Each time she stood in front of the mirror, microphone in hand, she could feel the transformation taking place. She wasn’t just a racer anymore. She was someone new. Someone powerful. Someone unforgettable. 

---

Once Y/N had a clearer idea of who she wanted to be, the next step was to learn how to bring that persona to life in the ring. And there was no one better to teach her the fundamentals than Cody Rhodes and Seth Rollins, two of the most respected names in professional wrestling.

Cody’s approach was meticulous, almost philosophical. To him, wrestling wasn’t just about physical moves—it was about telling a story. Each match was a performance, a carefully choreographed dance between two athletes, and every move had to have meaning. “Every strike, every suplex, every hold, it has to matter,” he told Y/N during one of their early sessions. “It’s not just about beating your opponent—it’s about making the audience feel something with every move you make.”

His words resonated deeply with Y/N. She had always been a racer, someone who thrived under pressure, someone who could tune out the noise and focus on the task at hand. Now, she had to apply that same mentality to wrestling—only this time, she wasn’t racing against the clock. She was performing for an audience. Every move needed to tell a story. Every moment needed to be intentional.

Seth Rollins, on the other hand, brought a different kind of energy to their training sessions. Known for his incredible stamina and high-flying style, Seth pushed Y/N to her physical limits. He designed grueling drills that tested her agility, her conditioning, and her ability to think on her feet. “You’re going to get tired,” Seth warned her after a particularly brutal training session. “But the crowd doesn’t care. They want to see you perform—you have to make them believe that you can keep going forever, even when you’re running on fumes.”

The physical toll of the training was immense. Y/N’s body ached, her muscles burned with exhaustion, and there were times when she wanted to quit. But she didn’t. She pushed through, just as she had on the racetrack, because she knew that wrestling was no different from racing in one key way: it required every ounce of her heart and soul.

Under Cody and Seth’s combined mentorship, Y/N’s wrestling skills evolved rapidly. She learned the technical basics—lockups, grapples, strikes—and began to understand how to structure a match in a way that captivated the audience from start to finish. Wrestling wasn’t just about being the strongest or the fastest. It was about creating moments, telling a story with each move, and drawing the crowd into that story.

As Y/N’s body grew stronger, her mind grew sharper. The ring became her new track, and each session became another opportunity to push herself further, to break through barriers she didn’t even know existed.

With each passing day, Y/N felt herself stepping deeper into this new life, this new world of wrestling. The persona, the moves, the physicality—it all came together in a way that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. It was a path full of uncertainty, but for the first time in a long while, Y/N wasn’t afraid. She was ready to embrace her new identity, to face the challenge head-on.

And as the final lesson of the day came to an end, she stood in the center of the ring, drenched in sweat, but full of purpose. This was only the beginning. The crowd hadn’t yet seen what she could do, but soon, they would.

—

When I met Becky Lynch, it felt like meeting someone who already understood the depths of my struggle, the weight of my journey. In so many ways, she embodied everything I wanted to become—resilient, unapologetic, and undeniably real. She wasn’t just a legend in the ring, she was a fighter in life, and that was exactly what I needed.

I remember the first time we sat down together. It was over coffee in a small, quiet corner of a local café, far from the chaos of the gym and the constant grind. Becky was leaning back in her chair, sipping her drink like she had all the time in the world, but I could see the fire in her eyes, the sharpness that came from having fought for everything she had. 

"Your story is your strength," Becky told me, her voice calm but powerful. "You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. Use that. Let it fuel you."

The words hit me like a lightning bolt. She was right, of course. I had spent so much time running from the weight of my past—my racing career, the pressure, the burnout—but I never stopped to realize that all of it had shaped me into who I was today. The struggles, the failures, the moments when I thought I’d lost myself, they weren’t weaknesses. They were the foundation of my strength. 

Becky helped me see that. She wasn’t interested in the technical side of wrestling in our early conversations. Instead, she gave me something more precious: her perspective on life. The battles I’d fought off the track, the choices I’d made, the moments when I thought about giving up—these weren’t just parts of my past. They were the very thing that could make me stand out in the ring. Wrestling wasn’t about fitting into a mold, it was about breaking it. 

She taught me how to use my own experiences as a weapon. We worked together on promos, diving into the depths of my past. My motorsport background, my struggles with burnout, and the pivotal decision to leave it all behind. I hadn’t just walked away from racing—I’d stepped into the unknown, and that was my story to tell. It wasn’t the story of a champion who followed the script. It was the story of a woman who had fought, fallen, and risen again, carving her own path in the process.

“You can’t hide behind a gimmick,” Becky said one day while we were crafting a promo. “The fans will see through it. You have to be who you are. If you embrace that, they’ll follow you anywhere.”

It wasn’t just the moves that I had to master. It was learning to connect with my audience on a personal level, to make them feel what I had felt. The rawness of it all—my decision to walk away from my family’s legacy, the guilt, the fear, the hope for something better—it became my fuel. And every time I stepped in front of a camera, I carried that with me.

—

Learning from the best meant I had to confront not just my technical limitations but my understanding of what wrestling truly was. It wasn’t just physical. Wrestling was performance, psychology, and the kind of storytelling that left people on the edge of their seats. And no one understood that better than Booker T.

Booker was a master of showmanship. When we first started working together, he broke down everything I thought I knew about wrestling. “You don’t just wrestle with your body,” he said during one of our early training sessions. “You wrestle with your mind. Get in your opponent’s head. Get in the crowd’s head. Make them believe in every single thing you do.”

It wasn’t enough to simply execute the moves—I had to sell them. Every punch, every suplex, every slam had to make the crowd feel it. It was about timing, psychology, and, most importantly, presence. 

“You need to make people care,” Booker said as we rehearsed a sequence. "It’s not about the biggest move or the loudest hit. It's about what you make people believe. The moment you step through that curtain, you’re not just a wrestler. You’re a storyteller.”

I’d always been able to perform—racing required the same kind of mental discipline and the ability to create an atmosphere, to build tension and excitement. But wrestling was different. Every action had a consequence, and every moment was charged with meaning. Booker’s words stuck with me, and each time I practiced, I worked on pulling the crowd in, making them part of the story.

While Booker taught me to control the mental aspect of the match, Naomi helped me bring my in-ring style to life. Naomi had this incredible energy, a vibrant, acrobatic flair that lit up the room every time she entered. I was drawn to her dynamic style, how she blended strength with grace. I wanted to capture that same fluidity in my own wrestling. Racing had always been about precision, control, and bursts of speed, and I could apply that same mindset to wrestling. 

Naomi worked with me to choreograph sequences that played to my strengths. Together, we created dynamic moves that combined my athletic background with the rhythm of wrestling—quick, fluid transitions, sudden bursts of power, and sharp, controlled movements. She taught me to not just perform the moves but to feel them. To flow through the ring with intention.

“It’s about rhythm, Y/N,” Naomi said as we practiced a series of flips and transitions. “When you’re in the ring, you’ve got to move like you’re dancing, but the dance is all about who’s watching. If you’re not connecting with them, all the flips and spins in the world won’t matter.”

I could feel the rhythm in my body, the way the moves started to make sense. There was power in every swing of the arm, every twist, every step. I wasn’t just moving through the motions. I was creating something.

—

Working alone in the ring had always been the goal, but as I trained more and more, I realized that there was a whole new dimension to wrestling I hadn’t considered before: tag team dynamics. When I began training with Jey and Jimmy Uso, and their father Rikishi, I quickly understood that tag team wrestling was its own art form.

“Tag wrestling isn’t just about you,” Jey said during our first session together. “It’s about trust. You’re only as good as your partner makes you look.”

At first, the idea of tag team wrestling seemed simple. You and your partner take turns fighting, right? But it was so much more than that. Jey and Jimmy taught me how to communicate nonverbally during a match, how to read the subtle signals from a partner across the ring, how to move as one unit, anticipating each other’s next move. The timing, the synchronization—it had to be perfect. Every moment of the match was a shared experience. 

“And when you’re in that ring, it’s not just two people wrestling,” Jimmy added, grinning. “It’s four people telling one story. The chemistry between you and your partner is everything.”

Working with the Usos changed my whole perspective on wrestling. It wasn’t just about executing moves or telling my own story—it was about creating a narrative that flowed between the four of us. It was teamwork, trust, and understanding the rhythm of a tag team match. The crowd didn’t just see a solo performance—they saw a collaboration, a blend of personalities, and a battle of wills.

Rikishi, ever the wise patriarch, took me aside after one of our training sessions. His lessons went beyond the ring. “Wrestling’s about respect,” he said, his voice low but full of wisdom. “It’s not just about what you do in the ring. It’s about honoring the history of the sport, the legends that paved the way for you.”

His words stuck with me. I started to see wrestling in a new light—not as just a career, but as part of a legacy, a long tradition that I was now a part of. It wasn’t just about my story—it was about respecting the past while building something new. 

As I continued to train and evolve, the lessons I learned from Becky, Booker, Naomi, the Usos, and Rikishi became the foundation of everything I was becoming. I wasn’t just learning how to wrestle—I was learning how to be a storyteller, a performer, and a partner in every sense of the word. It wasn’t just about my next match or my next promo. It was about the journey—the long, hard path that had led me here—and the one that stretched out before me.

—

The first time I met Stephanie McMahon, I was overwhelmed with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. Stephanie wasn’t just a wrestling executive or a promoter; she was a force of nature in the industry—one of the few who had successfully navigated the power dynamics of the business while still maintaining her identity as a McMahon. She was wrestling royalty, and to be in her presence felt like standing in front of a living legend. 

When she extended her hand to greet me, there was no air of superiority. She wasn’t trying to intimidate me, but instead, she carried an unspoken confidence that immediately made me feel like I had a place at the table.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice smooth yet firm, “I’ve been hearing a lot about you. I have to say, I’m impressed with what I’ve seen so far.”

It was one of those moments where everything slows down, where you’re painfully aware of how much is at stake. I was sitting across from someone who had seen it all—the highs, the lows, the twists and turns of the wrestling world. And somehow, I was about to get a peek behind the curtain. 

But Stephanie wasn’t here to talk about my moves or my promos. She wasn’t going to teach me how to deliver a punch or sell a finishing move. She was here to show me how to navigate the most important part of this journey—the business side.

“Wrestling is a platform,” Stephanie said, leaning forward slightly, her eyes locking with mine. “How you use it will define your career. Stay true to yourself, but always think strategically. Protect your brand, and don’t be afraid to speak up for what you believe in.”

Those words stuck with me. In all my years of racing, I had always focused on performance—on being the best, on crossing the finish line first. But this was different. Wrestling wasn’t just about being great in the ring; it was about positioning myself for success in a world that operated on politics, media, and partnerships. I wasn’t just an athlete; I was a brand.

---

Stephanie’s mentorship wasn’t about teaching me how to wrestle—it was about teaching me how to thrive in an industry that didn’t just reward talent; it rewarded visibility, strategy, and timing. As she walked me through the intricacies of the business, I realized how much I had to learn.

“You need to think beyond the ring,” Stephanie continued. “It’s about building relationships with promoters, negotiating contracts, and understanding the market. Your value isn’t just in what you do when the lights are on—it’s in the image you project, the story you tell outside the ring, and how you build your legacy.”

I listened intently, absorbing every word. Stephanie explained how she had built the WWE brand alongside her family and how her role in the company evolved over time. She shared lessons about the importance of timing—how to capitalize on a moment when the crowd’s energy was at its peak, how to create buzz and make people care, not just in the ring but in every aspect of the industry. 

“I didn’t just get here because I was good at my job,” she said with a sharp, knowing look. “I got here because I knew how to position myself. You have to protect your brand, and you need to make sure people understand your worth. Don’t let anyone define your value except for you.”

---

I couldn’t help but think about my own journey—how I had spent years racing to live up to a family legacy, how I had felt the weight of expectations bearing down on me. Now, in this new chapter, I had the chance to create a legacy of my own. But that legacy wasn’t just going to be built on what I could do in the ring. It was about creating a persona that resonated with fans, and more importantly, protecting that persona in an industry where everything could change in an instant.

“Be careful with your image,” Stephanie warned, her voice steady. “One wrong move, one bad decision, and it can follow you. You need to stay true to yourself, but also know when to play the game. There will be times when you have to stand up for what you believe in. Don’t be afraid to speak up.”

Her words felt like a reality check. I had been so focused on my physical training and my promos that I hadn’t fully grasped the scope of what it meant to navigate the wrestling industry with intention. Being in the spotlight wasn’t just about shining in the ring; it was about controlling your narrative, managing your public image, and making sure that the story being told about you was the one you wanted people to hear.

It was a lot to digest, but it was exactly what I needed. My journey was no longer just about racing on tracks or learning wrestling moves—it was about becoming a multifaceted performer, a businesswoman who understood the value of her image, her story, and her voice.

---

I left my meeting with Stephanie feeling like I had just been handed the keys to a new world. Her advice had empowered me to think strategically, to protect my brand, and to own every decision I made. It was a different kind of confidence—the kind that came from understanding that I had control over not just my career but my legacy.

From that point on, I made it my mission to not only improve my wrestling but to learn everything I could about the business. I started studying the careers of some of the most successful wrestlers—how they built their brands, how they managed their public image, how they navigated the politics of the industry. I realized that wrestling wasn’t just a performance—it was a brand-building machine, a world of partnerships, sponsorships, and media opportunities that required a different kind of mindset.

I wasn’t just learning how to wrestle anymore. I was learning how to survive—and thrive—in an industry where the stakes were higher than I could have ever imagined.

Stephanie’s lessons became a touchstone for me as I moved forward. I learned how to position myself, how to use every platform available to me to create my brand. It wasn’t about being a carbon copy of anyone else. I didn’t want to be anyone but myself—authentic, bold, and unapologetic.

There were moments when I doubted myself, when I questioned if I was doing the right thing, but the lessons from Stephanie always rang in my ears: Stay true to yourself. Think strategically. Protect your brand.

I started seeing the industry differently. Wrestling wasn’t just about athleticism and performance; it was about crafting a story that would live long after the final bell rang. And my story was just beginning.

As I continued my journey through the world of wrestling, I kept one thing at the forefront of my mind: I was not just a wrestler—I was a brand, a story, and a force to be reckoned with. 

And with the guidance of people like Stephanie McMahon, I knew I had everything I needed to make my mark. The ring was mine to conquer, but it was the industry that I was truly ready to take on.

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35 @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @same1995, @hinamesgigantica, @fadingcloudballoon-blog, @laptime-deleted, @anamiad00msday

Series Taglist: ----

[sydsaint]

I'm a sucker for an enemies to lovers + forced proximity arc, what can I say?

Summary: Reader gets an unlucky break when she gets stuck traveling with Tyler for a couple of weeks for AEW's tour of the Pacific North West before Double or Nothing. She and Tyler have never bothered to get along. But truth be told, she doesn't quite know why.

You read the text from your wonderful AEW EVP's over again, making sure that you've read it right. And unfortunately you have.

Somehow, after some kind of vague mix-up or other, according to the message anyway, you've been stuck with the infamous HOOK as a travel partner for AEW's PNW tour.

Begrudgingly, you collect your bags from the hotel room you're staying at and decide to meet your new travel partner in the lobby. You check out of your room at the main desk and glance around for any sign of Tyler hanging around. You spot Taz's broody kid leaning against a far wall in the lobby and head over to him.

"Hey, Tyler." You attempt to be civil since you're going to be stuck with him all week.

"Hey." Tyler nods to you, an emotionless expression on his face. He pushes off the wall and slings his bag over his shoulder. "You ready to head out?" He asks you. "We're due for a house show in Portland tomorrow. Drive is a couple of hours."

You nod and adjust your bag hanging off your shoulder. "Yeah, I'm ready whenever you are." You step off to the side and let Tyler lead the way.

Tyler leads the way out into the parking lot and over to a black SUV he's renting for the week. He pops the trunk open and tosses his bag into the back before moving off to the side so you can do the same. You toss your bags down next to his, your brightly colored luggage a stark contrast to his black ones, and Tyler slams the trunk shut.

"I'm driving." Tyler fishes the keys to the SUV out of his pocket and flashes them at you.

"Fine by me." You shrug and walk over to the passenger side of the car.

Both of you climb into the car in silence, and Tyler pulls the SUV out of the parking lot and out into the hectic Seattle traffic. Neither of you bother to make conversation, so Tyler switches on the radio to some random hip-hop channel.

"If you're not into the station, I'll change it here in a bit." Tyler speaks up after a couple of songs pass.

"This one is fine." You reply with a shrug.

Silence falls over the two of you again as the SUV flies down the road in the dark. You grow bored pretty fast and hum along to the radio for a bit while you scroll through your phone. What you don't notice is Tyler glancing your way once in a while as you quietly sing along to the radio when a good song comes in.

A couple of hours into the ride, Tyler stops off at some gas station in some nowhere off-ramp town.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom and grab some food." Tyler explains as he turns the car off.

"Cool. I'll do the same." You nod and unbuckle yourself out of your seat.

You and Tyler head inside and he heads to the bathroom while you make a b-line for the snack aisle. You grab an energy drink from one of the fridges on the back wall, then start looking through the chips and other salty snacks on the shelf in front of you.

Tyler comes back from the bathroom a few minutes later and you see him grab the same brand of energy drink out of the fridge as you from the corner of your eye. You pick out a small bag of chips before moving to the candy aisle for something sweet.

Once you've collected a nice round-up of snacks, you head up to the check-out and set everything onto the counter. Tyler comes up from behind you and sets his stuff down as well, and you can't help but notice that your choices in snacks are almost identical.

You fish out your wallet from your pocket to pay for your snacks but Tyler shoulders in front of you before you can pull it out of the confines of your pocket.

"I got it." Tyler mumbles as he pushes past you.

You stumble back a couple of steps as Tyler hands a couple of bills over to the cashier. The cashier takes the cash and returns some change to Tyler who pockets the extra's and grabs his stuff off the counter.

"...Thanks." You give Tyler a quick thank you as he steps passed you with his food and drink in hand.

You grab your stuff off the counter and follow Tyler back out to the car in silece. Tyler sets his stuff inside the car and turns back around to pump some gas before the two off you depart. You stop in front of the car and frown.

"You should have let me at least pay for some gas." You complain, feeling like a leech.

"Nah. It's my rental." Tyler replies as he leans against the side of the car. "Don't worry about it." He assures you.

You huff out a breath and watch the screen on the pump climb in price. "Well do you at least want me to drive for a while?" You ask Tyler, tired of feeling halpless this whole trip.

"Nah." Tyler replies again nonchalantly. "We're more than halfway there. It's fine." He insists.

"Whatever." You grumble to yourself at Tyler's aloofness and climb back into the passenger side of the car.

You climb into the passenger seat and settle into your spot. You glance out the window at Tyler as he finishes up pumping gas. Your phone buzzes and you check your messages. You find a text from Skye waiting for you.

-How the trip going?

-fine I guess. hes just so cold. idk what to do

-hang in there babe! u got this!

-I'll try. wish me luck!

Tyler climbs back into the car and you put your phone back into your pocket. He switches the car back on and pulls back onto the road.

Tyler drives for about another hour in silence before you can't take it anymore. You glance over at him and muster up the courage to say something.

"Are you sure that you don't want me to drive?" You ask. "I'm more than happy to take over for a while." You assure him.

"I've got it." Tyler shakes his head. "Besides, we're almost there."

You nod and bite the inside of your lip. "Are you sure?" You speak up again. "You've been driving for like 4 hours straight." You remind him.

"I'm fine, Y/N." Tyler insists. "If you want to help with something you can do me a solid and crack open my drink for me." He suggests.

"Yeah, sure." You nod and crack open his drink for him. "You need me to hand feed you Dorito's too?" You quip.

Your eyes are fixed on the road so you don't see the hint of a smile crack on Tyler's face at your quip.

Silence once again overtakes the car ride until you and Tyler finally make it to the hotel at around 1am. You grab your bags and head inside to the front desk. You get checked into your shared room and are given two keycards, giving one to Tyler when he joins you in the lobby.

The two of you head up to the room in silence. You make it into the room first and set your bags down onto one of the queen beds in the room. Tyler takes the other bed and the two of you silently unpack.

"I'm going to grab a quick shower before I go to sleep." You inform Tyler as you fish your sleepwear out of your bag.

You grab your comfy oversized tshirt and the comfy underwear you like to sleep in and head into the bathroom. Tyler unpacks his bag and changes into some more loose-fitting sweats before setting his bags down onto the floor and climbing into his bed for the night.

Tyler plugs in his phone and scrolls through it for a while. He can hear you singing to yourself from the bathroom and cracks a small smile.

"There's still hot water if you want to rinse off." You come out of the bathroom a bit later, toweling off your hair.

"I'll shower in the morning." Tyler shrugs and looks up from his phone at you as you discard your towel into the bascket sitting by the bathroom door.

You shrug and climb into your bed. "Suit yourself. I'm going to bed." You plug in your phone to your charger and switch the bedside lamp off.

Tyler does the same and you both get some sleep.

Much later into the morning you are woken up by the sound of someone rummaging around the hotel room. You yawn and prop yourself up in bed and check the time on your phone. 7am.

"Please don't tell me that you're a morning person?" You groan and sit up in bed.

You rub the sleep from your eyes and find Tyler digging through his bags for his gym clothes. Your breath hitches in your throat when your eyes land on his bare back, muscles flexing and moving with every movement. His sweats hang low on his hips, and you can only imagine what they look like from the front.

"Always have been." Tyler answers your question. "I'm going to change and then head to the gym for a couple of hours." He explains.

"Okay." You nod and stretch your arms above your head. "I think I'm just going to hang out here for a couple more hours. Maybe grab some breakfast."

Tyler nods and you watch him walk off with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. You lay in bed for another hour or so before you decide to get dressed and grab something to eat. You pull a cute outfit from your bag and strip off your sleeping shirt in front of your bed.

You switch your underwear and bra and are in the middle of squeezing into a pair of jeans when the door clicks open.

"I'm back. You in here?" Tyler steps through the door as you move to grab something to cover yourself up with. "Oh, sorry. I'll just, step back out." Tyler see's that you're changing and retreats back into the hall.

You pull your shirt over your head and call for Tyler to come back inside the room. He cautiously comes back through the door and tosses his bag onto the floor.

"Sorry, YN. I didn't mean to barge in on you." He apologizes for almost catching you naked. "I guess I should have knocked." He muses.

"It's fine." You shrug and zip your suitcase back up. "My ring gear is way more provocative, right?" You joke. "I was just going to grab breakfast at that place across the street. You're welcome to come if you want."

Tyler nods and grabs a fresh hoodie from his bag. He pulls it over his head and gets the door for you. "Sure, I could eat."

You and Tyler head over to the diner and eat in a comfortable silence. You eventually get him to casually chat with you about some stuff and learn that the two of you share a few hobbies.

After your breakfast has finished you reach for your bag to fish your wallet out of it and pay the bill. Tyler spots your gesture and grabs your hand that's still on the table.

"Hey, I've got it, YN." Tyler insists.

"Again?" You look back up at him with narrowed eyes. "Are you sure? I'm kind of starting to feel like a mooch." You admit, but you can see that Tyler doesn't plan on changing his mind any time soon. "Can I at least get the tip?" You ask him.

Tyler cracks a small grin and nods, letting go of your hand. "Sure." He agrees to let you leave a tip.

You smile happily and pull a couple of bills out of your wallet. You leave them on the table and head out with Tyler back to the hotel room. The two of you have different schedules for the show so you part ways for a few hours.

Much later into the night you are packed up and getting ready to head back to the hotel. You stop outside the arena where there are some fans grouped up and waiting to see some of the people from the show. You run into them and agree to sign a couple of things and take a few photos with some of the girls hanging out.

"What about me, beautiful?" One of the guys with the group of girls breaks through the crowd and approaches you. "Can I get a picture too?" He asks you with a cocky grin.

Reluctantly, you nod and agree to a photo. Normally you'd never agree to take a photo with some tool like this. But you don't want to make a scene in front of the girls that were being polite and waited so long to have a chance at meeting you.

"Sure, why not. One wont hurt, right?" You gesture for the guy to step next to you.

The guy eagerly fishes his phone out of his pocket and steps over to you. You force a smile on your face as he slings an arm around you for the picture. The scent of his nasty colonge assaults your senses but you bear it and wait for the photo to be taken.

The fan pulls you into his side as close as he can get and goes to take the photo. His hand thats slung over the back of your shoulders slides down your back and stops dangerously close to your ass.

You grimace and step away from the fan, intent on telling him off. But someone beats you to the punch. "Hey! What the fuck? Get off of her!" Tyler suddenly appears and stomps towards you and the fanboy.

The fanboy scoffs and turns to confront Tyler. "Excuse me? Do you mind, man? I'm trying to get a picture!" He nods toward you.

"Looks more to me like you were trying to cop a feel." Tyler replies and steps between you and the fanboy.

"What it to you?" The fanboy sneers. "You her boyfriend or something?"

You grab Tylers arm thats posistioned toward you and catch his attention. "Ty, it's fine." You assure him. "Come on. Let's just get out of here." You tug gently on his arm. "He's not worth getting into a brawl over. He's a loser." You shoot a glare at the fanboy. "Who thinks that he's way cooler than he is. Trust me bro, these girls? They know you're a loser too." You nod toward the group of girls standing silently a few feet away.

"Whatever, bitch." The fanboy snarls at you and Tyler takes a step toward him.

"Ty, come on." You give Tyler's arm another tug and he backs off the fanboy.

Tyler turns back toward you and the two of you walk off. "Whatever man. Let's get out of here, YN. Before I change my mind." He lets you drag him off.

"You two make a cute couple!" One of the girls in the group shouts as you drag Tyler away from the crowd.

You and Tyler glance at one another and you let go of his arm. You turn away first to hide the blush on your cheeks and don't notice Tyler's sly little smile.

"Thanks for having my back, Tyler." You thank him. "You're not so bad after all, mister cold-hearted badboy." You knock into his side playfully.

"I got your back, YN. No sweat." Tyler knocks back into you with a grin.

[cowboywritersworld]

May I request a Will Ospreay x Reader, where Reader fem!/Will wife is angry at Don Callis, after she finds out that Callis eventually acknowledged that he sent Takeshita to attack Will and Ricochet last week and then all of a sudden Don callis goes after Will wife reader about how it’s her fault for getting involved in Will business and even says how their kids could possibly not be will? Fluff please

This is too much

General Masterlist | AEW Masterlist | Will Ospreay Masterlist

Characters: Will Ospreay, Reader, Don Callis

Prompt: May I request a Will Ospreay x Reader, where Reader fem!/Will wife is angry at Don Callis, after she finds out that Callis eventually acknowledged that he sent Takeshita to attack Will and Ricochet last week and then all of a sudden Don callis goes after Will wife reader about how it’s her fault for getting involved in Will business and even says how their kids could possibly not be will? Fluff please

You have just finished breastfeeding your little girl, setting her to burp, when you finally hear Don Callis acknowledge that he had sent Takeshita to attack your husband and Ricochet, the week before. You are relieved when Annie finally burps, setting her down in her bassinet, looking over at your four years old boy.

"Andrew, can you please take care of Annie for a bit? She is sleeping now and I'll send someone to take care of both of you, okay? Mommy and Daddy will be back soon though." You kiss him on the forehead, smiling when he nods eagerly.

"Of course, Mommy!" He kisses you on the cheek.

"Thank you."

You are not back on the roster, with Annie being born just a bit over three months ago, but you still follow Will around as much as you can. The little girl isn't accustomed to flying, you are introducing it slowly, when the places you need to be don't take too much hours by plane.

Now sure that both kids will be good, you leave the room, asking one coworker to please take care of them in the meantime. They are both very loved, so it is easy to find someone who will watch them.

As you reach Gorilla, you notice Don Callis getting back and shove him in the chest, really angry and pissed off at him. It seems to take him by surprise, the cameras are already rolling, but he smirks. You hate that smirk and if you could, you would slap it out of his face.

"So you were the one behind that all? You are an idiot! Do not ever touch him again!" You are fuming and Don just laughs at you.

"Why are you even blaming me, Y/N? After all, all this happened because of you. Ever since Will Ospreay met you, he changed, even more now that you gave him two kids." He smirks even more, knowing fully well how much you don't want him to mention them.

"Take our kids off your bloody mouth." You growl, trying to hold yourself back. "This has nothing to do with them!" You scream, shoving him once again.

"Getting involved in Will's business was the wrong move from you, Y/N. Getting involved in the Family's business was wrong too." He takes some steps towards you and you take two or three back. "Those kids sure are cute, but are we even sure they are Will's? He is always so focused on wrestling, when does he ever have time to make love to you?" His tone is so irritating...

You bite your lower lip, closing a hand to a fist and it takes all your willpower to not punch him in the face. "Annie and Andrew are his kids and you have no right to question such an important thing!" You are about to swing on him, but a hand poses on your shoulder and you smile, when you notice Will.

"Go back to our kids, I'll be there very soon, sweetie."

He whispers in your ear, giving you goosebumps, which thankfully are covered by the sweater you are wearing. You slowly calm down while you walk back to his locker room, taking a deep breath once you are in front of the door. You and Will both know that the kids are not someone else's, you have always loved him and never had sex with someone else, but it is difficult to stay calm. You purr when you feel Will's arms around your waist, sighing as you melt under his kisses on your neck.

"I talked to him, he'll never bring Annie and Andrew in this feud or any other, up ever again." Will whispers as he still kisses you, nuzzling into your neck.

"It was okay until he mentioned them. I don't care what he says about me, but there boundaries he shouldn't overstep." You say, turning in his hug, kissing him sweetly on the lips.

"It was hot seeing you step up to him, though." He chuckles, nodding serious then. "That's what I told him after the cameras went off. He apologizes for that." He smooches you on the nose. "Are you feeling better? I know it was hard for you to not punch him." He rubs his hands on your back, in a soothing way.

"I am feeling better. We should go now, I put Annie to sleep after feeding her and Andrew is surely tired." He would love to get intimate with him, but she is tired too. "Maybe we can order take-out and when we are at the hotel put Andrew to sleep. We can then have time for ourselves."

"That's a good plan. Let me order and then I can take Annie and drive us to the hotel. Love you, sweetie. You are a very special Mama and I am so glad you are our kid's mama. Thank you for choosing me to be at your side." He kisses you longer, both of you are panting when you finally part ways.

"Thank you too, Will. For being at my side, for our two beautiful children."

[hangmatts]

matt’s on the internet too much.

[ drabble. mentions of nsfw. ]

—

“Jack?”

“Hmm?” Jack replied, fingers running through Matt’s hair.

Matt was laying on Jack’s bare chest, scrolling through TikTok. Their sheets were barely covering them and they weren’t bothered enough to clean up after having sex.

“You’re my pookie.”

Jack’s face suddenly changed from tired to confused. He looked down at Matt.

“What?”

“You’re my pookie. Am I not using that word right?” Matt frowned. “I thought I was.”

“No, you are- that doesn’t matter. Where did you learn that?”

“TikTok.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Jack took Matt’s phone, immediately clicking on settings

“Hey! What are you doing? Give me my phone back!” Matt climbed over Jack, trying to reach for his phone. His attempts quickly failed as Jack was surprisingly fast at moving the phone out of Matt’s reach.

“You’re on the internet too much. I’m putting a time limit on TikTok.”

“What? That’s ridiculous, I’m not a child!” Matt crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m setting it to 30 minutes per day.”

“ONLY 30??”

“That’s me being generous. There’s also a password on the controls so you can’t change it, even if you tried.”

“You dick!”

“Really? Going to insults now?”

“I gave you a compliment and you changed the controls on my phone!”

“No, you called me a word you shouldn’t know and I changed the controls because you’re on the internet too much.”

“I am not!”

“Sure.” Jack handed Matt’s phone back. “Also, you passed the 30 minute limit.”

Matt looked down at his screen to see the TikTok app locked.

“Great.” He tossed his phone aside. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Well…” Jack looked at Matt, who was still on top of him. “…You are in a good position-”

“Unbelievable! You think I’d do all the work after what you just did?”

“You never do all the work.”

Matt wanted to protest but Jack was right.

“I am so mad at you right now.”

“Mad enough to not fuck?”

“…No.” Matt moved off Jack and laid back in his spot. “But you’re doing all the work.”

“Of course I am.” Jack sighed

[skyesblue]

girl i have been on a cm punk tear lately. i need some new fanfic (i’ve read all the others lol) can you do one with a male reader?

Ofc love here you go

✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎

CM Punk: Voice of reason

Summary: Y/n has a crush on Punk but he doesn't know how to say it so he tries to ignore it but it don't work, every time Y/n sees him talk to other people the jealousy feeling grows but being Punk's close friend Y/n has to keep his feelings under control before everything comes crashing down.

✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎

Masterlists | Wwe masterlist | CM Punk Masterlist

-ˋˏ [Word Count] ˎˊ : 2k

-ˋˏ [Genre] ˎˊ : angst

-ˋˏ [TW] ˎˊ : bxb, angst, mistakes I might have, this was not proofread before being posted

-ˋˏ [Taglist] ˎˊ : @gecrgiagirl @nev-danielgarciawife

✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎

You walked into the arena with Maxxine Dupri, she was the one who got close to you while you and her was training at the performance center together and now you guys made it to Raw together. She was the only one to your knowledge who knew about your crush on Punk, you and Maxxine went to the separate locker rooms to get ready for tonight's show then met up again in catering when you both were TV ready. You and her grabbed a water and a small plate sitting at a table together;

"So when are you going to tell him?" Maxxine asks

"Girl never, it's only staying between us"

“What if you want a relationship together?”

“Max, I know he’s straight he told me and I don’t want to ruin his and I friendship”

“But you also can’t ignore your feelings Y/N, they’re there for a reason” she told you before she left to go with Otis and Tozawa for a match that Otis had.

She was right, no matter how much you wanted to deny it one thing Maxxine did was tell you the truth.That’s why you always kept her around; she always told you what you needed to hear and not what you wanted to hear, that’s why she’s your best friend. You moved your seat closer to a backstage TV so you could watch them on the TV, but what Maxxine said stayed on your mind. You thought about it but is it worth losing your friendship with Punk? No it wasn’t so you stayed quiet and watched the match, after Otis beat Xavier Woods the group came backstage and they followed Maxxine as she came back up to you.

“Hi Y/N”

“Hey Otis and Tozawa”

Tozawa gave you and Maxxine space so y’all could talk, you sighed when you saw the look on her face because you could tell that she was going to lecture you. You looked over at her;

“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, I know I need to tell him”

“Good, but seriously Y/N you should do it. You never know you might get something good out of it”

“Like what?”

“Him atleast knowing”

Maxxine was right, at least he would know you liked him. You got up from where you was sitting because you saw Punk in the distance and you was determined to tell him. As you walked closer to him you saw he was talking to someone but you didn’t see their face, that’s when the jealousy took over. When Punk got done talking to the person he turned around to see you there so he walked up to you;

“Hey Y/N” he hugged you when he finally got to you

You didn’t hug him back you just stood there until he let go

“You ok Y/N?”

You don’t know what happened you just snapped, you didn’t yell because you didn’t want everyone else to hear but you did say what was on your mind;

“You know what Punk, Phill I’m done pretending, this whole time I liked you and I wanted to tell you but I know you don’t see me that way and it would ruin our friendship”

You didn’t even give him time to respond, you just walked away leaving him confused. You walked past Maxxine going straight to your locker room so she followed behind you after she heard the door slam. She knocked on the door;

“It’s me, Maxxine”

“Come in”

She walked into your locker room shutting the door behind her then she walked over to the couch that was in there and sat down waiting for you to speak.

“I told him Maxxine”

“How did it go?”

“Not so great”

“Tell me, I’m listening”

“So I went to go tell him like you encouraged me to do and when I went up to him I saw him talking to someone else and you know how I get”

“What did you do?” She sighed

“I told him how I felt but kind of went off on him but I didn’t yell”

“Y/N, why?”

“Max you know how I get when my jealousy takes over”

“How about you try and apologize to him?”

“I already feel bad about it and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to see my face right now” you groaned

“Try texting him”

Maxxine had a good idea, so you pulled out your phone and decided to text punk:

[Hey, I’m sorry about going off on you earlier and I just wanted to say sorry. I was just frustrated with how I feel about you and I took it out on you because jealousy got the best of me so I am sending this text to apologize, I’m sorry]

Maxxine proofread it as you send it and she gave it the okay, I mean at least you were being honest. You were anxious and Maxxine could tell because you was checking your phone every 5 seconds to see if he responded or even read the message; he didn’t. At around 9:30pm he finally read the message and by 9:45pm you got a response;

[Y/n I would’ve never looked at you differently because you had feelings for me, you know me better than that. We all have feelings I understand but you didn’t need to take it out on me because you were frustrated, you could’ve just taken a breather. This is something I would rather not talk about over text but something I’d rather talk about in person. So after the show I’d appreciate it if you came to my hotel room and we could talk this out]

Your heart raced as you read the message so you read it out loud to Maxxine to at least somewhat calm down. She looked over at you;

“At least you guys are going to talk it out”

“But what if it’s bad Max?”

“There’s nothing we can do about it Y/N, Punk has feelings too and they should be heard; they’re valid too”

It’s now been a few hours after the show and yiu Can’t avoid Punk anymore so you take your phone out your pocket and text him;

[Ok, what room are you in?]

[308]

You grabbed your key card and walked out your room and started up the stairs, it’ll take you longer to get there this way but you wanted to put it off as long as you could. When you finally arrived you knocked; there was no more putting it off.

“Who is it?” Punk asked from the room

“Me, Y/N”

He waited a few seconds before opening the door and letting you in but you stood there taking a few deep breaths before sitting down on the bed in the room. Punk locked the door and sat in the chair that was near you;

“Ok let’s get straight to the point and rip the bandaid off” he said as he looked over at you

He took a deep breath and scratched his head before he looked up at you to start talking, “Look Y/N you are an amazing friend but we both know I don’t feel the same way, that’s just not me. But to me you will always be my friend no matter if you have a crush on me or not because we both know I accept you for who you are and I always will. This you having a crush on me is not going to change anything between us so that means I’m not going to think differently towards you and I don’t plan on to anytime soon. But when you feel frustrated please don’t take that out on me please talk it out, it would be better for the both of us”

You nod to let him know you agreed.

“Deal?”

“Deal”

You were hurt that he didn’t feel the same way but relived that he still wanted to be in your life; even if it was just as a friend. At least you still have him. You made your way back to your hotel room and laid back on the bed to call Maxxine to tell her what happened;

“Hello?”

“Yes Y/N?”

“Punk and I talked about it”

“Tell me, I’m listening”

“So I went to his room and I sat down and he spoke first he said; that I was a good friend and he don’t feel The same way and that I will always be his friend that he wants in his life still”

“I’m proud of you for telling him, and like I said it’s going to be okay there’s other fish in the sea that will be perfect for you it just takes time to find the right one. At least he knows Y/N that’s the best you can get out of this and he still wants to be your friend which is good”

“Thank you Max I needed to hear that”

“That’s what I’m here for to help you when you need it”

“I really appreciate it”

“Do you need me to be there with you?”

“I’d really appreciate it”

Maxxine hung up going to your room to be with you, that’s another thing that you loved about Maxxine. She was always a phone call away when you need it and she’ll drop everything just to keep you company. She pulled the chair over to the bed and you guys talked about anything to keep your mind busy and off of Punk; there’s a reason why you call Maxxine your best friend. The next morning you and Maxxine met in the lobby to travel to the next state for the upcoming paper view, you and Maxxine always traveled together because she was the only person you were close to and the only one that you let get close to you. Maxxine and you stopped at The Capital Grille to get lunch since it was noon.

Maxxine already made the reservation before she came and got you so when you two walked in they escorted you both to your table. You both just got the Ribeye Steak Sandwich just to keep it simple, she looked over at you as you both waited for your food;

“How are you feeling after last night?”

“I mean it still hurts but I’m doing better”

“I can set you up with a friend” She joked to lighten the mood

“What are you Cupid now?” you chuckled

“I mean I try to be” she says as you two share a laugh

“But I want to know what he doesn’t see in me” you sighed

“Y/N you always know I’m honest with you so I’ll say this; when it comes to love you can’t force someone to be with you or love you it’ll make them miserable, and being miserable in a relationship never ends well for either person and I really do not want you to go through that on top of what else you are dealing with”

“True”

“You will find someone who will love you and cherish you, anyone will be lucky to have you as a partner”

You smile

“They’re not going to be Punk but sometimes you’ll find love with unexpected people and for you that’s better off. I don’t want you being upset over Punk forever, when you are ready put your self out there and give people a chance to get to know you and take it from there”

“True and you know what maybe I will, I’ll go out after the next show and have a night out”

“There you go” Max smiled

After you and Maxxine had lunch you took over the driving to Boston for the next show, you thought about what Maxxine said and maybe she’s right, when’s the last time you had a fun night out? I mean you do deserve it after all and why would you mope around over someone who don’t want you? It’s time to go out and show him what he’s missing but also having fun for yourself.

[mrsarcherofinfamy]

●Hook x Reader●

Request: Where the reader is sting daughter and they know each other since they were little and they only got together after Tyler was jealous that Nick wayne was hitting on her.

@autumntheblogger

________________________________________

*Tyler's POV*

Sitting in catering eating a bag of chips, I am watching Nick Wayne trying to flirt with Y/N. Me and Y/N have known each other since we were little having both of our dad's being in the business. Y/N being Sting's daughter also puts a big target and pressure on her. I turn down my headphones so I can try and hear what Nick is saying to Y/N.

"Cmon honey. Just one date."

He goes to put his hand on her face but she moves away pushing his hand back down on the table.

"Nick. I have told you three times that you are very sweet and cute but, I am not interested in you."

"Cmon Y/N. Just one date. Please. You won't regret it."

He goes to grab her hand and she pulls it away turning her head away from him. Her eyes land on me and she mouths "Help me". She turns back around looking at Nick with a fake smile.

_________________________________________

*Y/N's POV*

I turn back around looking at Nick with a fake smile. Nick goes to say something but stops as I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up seeing Tyler standing next to me.

"Hey Y/N. Umm my dad wanted to see you. Follow me."

"Oh okay. See ya later Nick."

I get up following behind Tyler and Nick huffs crossing his arms. Tyler leads me to his locker room and we go inside as he closes the door. I sit down on the couch and he sits down next to me.

"Thank you for helping me back there."

"Of course. I was watching Nick trying to flirt with you."

"You were watching?"

"I always watch you to make sure you are okay. To make sure nothing bad happens to you. Because I care about you a lot."

I shift a little facing him and look into his eyes smiling a little.

"You mean that Ty?"

"Yes I do. I really do."

"I care about you too Ty."

He looks at me and smirks a little.

"So you're not interested in Nick?"

"Not at all. I have someone else that I have been interested in for awhile now."

"Oh really? Who?"

Tyler looks at me with a curious face and I look over at him with a little smirk.

"I can show you."

I lean forward and slowly lock my lips onto his. I kiss him slowly and he kisses me back putting a hand on my cheek deepening the kiss. We kiss for a few minutes before I pull back leaving our foreheads touching and looking at him.

"So who is it?"

I roll my eyes and push him slightly, sitting back against the couch. He looks at me with a little smile on his face.

"Wanna go on a date?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah! Wherever you wanna go!"

"Let's go!"

I stand up, put my hand out and he grabs it standing up. We grab our backpacks and head out to go on our first date. First of many.