#hookhausen x reader

[honeydippedfiction]

Giddy Up Cowgirl {jh86}

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WC: 11k

Warnings: 18+ | semi public sex | fingering | light choking | light!dom Jack | finger sucking | oral (m receiving) | dirty talk | cream pie (wrap it up people!) | sexual tension |

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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 •

It was a crisp late evening in Nashville, the city still buzzing from the excitement of the game earlier that night. The Devils had just wrapped up a dominant victory, their first win on this road trip, and the team was in high spirits. The locker room hummed with laughter and chatter, the sound of lockers slamming shut and equipment bags being zipped up filling the air. Players clapped each other on the back, their smiles wide as they basked in the thrill of victory.

As the players trickled out of the locker room, some headed straight for the team bus, eager to return to the hotel for some much-needed rest. Others, like Jack Hughes, were a bit more eager to prolong the high of the win. He stretched his arms above his head and turned to his teammates with a mischievous grin.

"Who’s up for a little fun?" Jack asked, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of a few of the guys who were lingering near the exit.

"Fun?" Dougie Hamilton raised an eyebrow, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "We just won a game, Jack. What’s left to do except get some sleep?"

Jack’s grin only widened, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Nah, I’m thinking something a little more... Nashville."

The word hung in the air like a challenge, and a few of the players exchanged curious looks. Everyone knew Nashville had a reputation for its lively nightlife, its honky-tonk bars, and its wild, free-spirited vibe. But there was one place in particular that had captured the attention of the team during their short time in the city: the PBR Bar, known for its country music, cold beers, and—most famously—its mechanical bull.

A couple of players—Jesper Bratt and Miles Wood—snapped their heads toward Jack, both grinning. 

“I’m in,” Miles said quickly, tossing his bag into the corner and pulling his hoodie over his head.

Jesper nodded enthusiastically, his blonde hair still a bit tousled from the game. “It’s been forever since I’ve ridden a bull. Let’s go make some memories.”

With the decision made, the team’s energy shifted from the adrenaline of the game to the anticipation of a night out. As the players made their way to the hotel’s parking lot, the night was alive with the sounds of city traffic and the distant hum of music drifting out from the many bars that lined the streets. The air was cold, but the excitement in the players’ hearts kept them warm.

They piled into a few cars, with Jack at the wheel of one, his eyes glancing back toward his teammates with a grin. "Trust me, this place is legendary," he said, the headlights illuminating his face as he made a sharp turn.

“What’s so legendary about it, huh?” Dougie called from the backseat, clearly skeptical. “Is it the bull or the beer?”

“Both,” Luke answered, a confident laugh escaping his lips. “The place is known for its... competitive bull-riding scene. You get on, you try to stay on as long as you can. You don’t want to be the guy who gets thrown off in front of the whole bar. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

Miles chuckled. “Perfect. I love a good challenge.”

As the car cruised through downtown, the team’s mood shifted to something more playful and carefree. For these young men, the game was in the past, and the present was all about having fun. They were a close-knit group, a family on and off the ice, and nights like these—full of laughter and lighthearted competition—were what they lived for.

When they finally arrived at the PBR Bar, the lights outside blinked brightly, and the sound of live music mixed with the cheers of people inside. The smell of smoky barbeque and fried food wafted through the air as the team piled out of the cars and headed for the entrance.

"Welcome to Nashville," Jack said, throwing open the door and leading the way inside.

The atmosphere was electric. Music blared from speakers, and the scent of food and drinks filled the air. At the center of the room was the mechanical bull, its bright red body gleaming under the lights, waiting for the brave souls who dared to ride. The sight of it sparked an immediate sense of excitement in the group.

"Alright, let’s see who’s the real cowboy here," Jesper said, eyeing the bull as he slapped Jack on the back.

"You sure about that?" Luke grinned. "I’ve got some moves on that bull. Might take you down."

A round of laughter erupted as the team gathered around, ready to enjoy the night. For a moment, it felt as though everything outside of the rink had faded away. No pressures, no expectations—just a group of guys unwinding, excited to let loose after a big win.

It was the perfect way to celebrate.

The moment the Devils walked through the doors of the PBR Bar, the shift from the cool Nashville evening air to the electric energy inside was palpable. The lights hit them first—neon blues and reds casting vibrant hues across the room, reflecting off the polished wood and the metallic fixtures. The air was thick with excitement, the unmistakable sounds of laughter, chatter, and music filling every corner of the expansive bar.

The team moved through the crowd, their eyes scanning the space. In the center of it all, under a massive sign that read "PBR" in glowing red letters, was the mechanical bull. It was perched on a raised platform, its sleek, red-painted frame illuminated by spotlights. The crowd gathered around it, watching as some brave souls tried—and failed—to stay atop its bucking surface. Cheers erupted each time someone was thrown off, adding to the electric atmosphere.

The space itself was an interesting mix of the rustic and the contemporary. Wood-paneled walls, cowhide accents, and vintage Western décor created the atmosphere of an old-time saloon, but the music gave it a modern twist. Top 40 hits bounced off the walls, punctuated by classic rock and a bit of country here and there, creating an unexpected but exhilarating blend. The energy was high, the music a perfect backdrop for the revelers’ animated conversations and shouts of encouragement.

Their eyes immediately landed on the action. A group of girls were dancing on the bar, their movements fluid and synchronized with the rhythm of the music. They wore red cross-tied crop tops paired with matching red bottom shorts and stirrups that gave off a playful, daring vibe. The girls moved with confidence, their smiles wide, creating a captivating spectacle as they effortlessly slid across the polished surface of the bar.

It was hard not to notice them—especially for Jack. He couldn’t help but be drawn to the energy in the room, but one dancer in particular caught his attention. She was a Black woman, her beautiful sepia-toned skin glowing under the neon lights. There was something magnetic about the way she moved—an effortless blend of confidence, grace, and fun that drew Jack in almost immediately. Her every move seemed to flow with the beat, her body moving in perfect sync to the rhythm, like she had been born to dance. The way she held herself, so completely at ease in the spotlight, made her stand out from the others, and Jack found himself momentarily entranced by her.

Her smile was wide and infectious as she laughed with the other dancers, her energy lighting up the room. Jack noticed the way she moved with a playful intensity, her body expressing the music like it was a language she had mastered. Her confidence was undeniable, but it wasn’t cocky—it was something else, something that made her stand out in a way that was captivating, yet not overbearing.

He could feel the pull of her presence, something about the way she carried herself drawing him in, though he quickly tried to shake off the thought. He had just walked into the bar, and this was supposed to be a night for the team to let loose. But there was no denying the intrigue he felt as he watched her—a curiosity that he couldn’t quite push away.

Jack’s teammates had started to disperse, heading for the bar and scanning the crowd for a place to settle in. But Jack remained rooted to the spot, his gaze lingering on the dancer for just a moment longer than he had intended. He wasn’t sure why she had caught his eye, but there was no denying that something about her was magnetic.

Miles Wood, ever the instigator, caught Jack's distracted look. "Dude, what are you looking at?" he teased, nudging Jack in the side.

Jack blinked and quickly shook his head, trying to snap out of it. "Nothing, just… checking out the scene," he replied, giving his friend a half-hearted shrug. He was grateful for the distraction, but a part of him couldn’t help but steal another glance at the girl, her laughter filling the space around him, as if calling him in.

"Yeah, the scene’s got a lot going on," Dougie said, smirking as he grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him toward the bar. "But I’m pretty sure you’ve seen enough. Time for some drinks."

Jack allowed himself to be pulled along by his teammate, but his attention wavered once more as the girl on the bar flashed a smile in his direction. It was playful, but there was something behind it that made Jack’s heart beat a little faster. 

He couldn’t quite place it, but for some reason, he was fascinated. It was like she had a secret, a sense of mystery that pulled him in, though he couldn't even begin to figure out why. 

As the team found their spot at the bar, Jack’s mind was still a little distracted, the sound of the girl’s laugh and the sway of her movements lingering in his thoughts. There was something about her that felt like a challenge—like a puzzle that needed to be solved. And Jack Hughes was never one to back down from a challenge.

The music pulsed through the room like the heartbeat of the night, each beat sending ripples of energy across the crowd. The PBR Bar was alive, a whirlwind of laughter, clinking glasses, and people lost in the rhythm of the music. Among the crowd, the dancers on the bar had become the center of attention, their synchronized movements adding to the chaos of color and sound. But one dancer stood out from the rest, her presence undeniable.

She was the one who caught Jack’s eye the moment he walked in. She was the girl who made the chaotic energy of the bar seem like a carefully orchestrated show, her body moving with effortless grace, each movement filled with confidence and rhythm. Jack couldn’t look away, captivated by the way she owned the space around her, as if the world was hers to command.

Her skin, a radiant sepia-toned glow under the neon lights, seemed to draw all the light in the room toward her. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, moving with her body as she spun, twirled, and leaned into the music. There was a boldness in her movements, a confidence that made her seem untouchable yet completely approachable all at once. She didn’t just dance—she became the music, weaving in and out of the crowd with the kind of effortless charm that made her seem like she belonged to the very air she breathed.

Jack’s gaze lingered a little longer than he’d intended, but he couldn’t help it. There was something magnetic about her, something that made it impossible for him to look away. His heart skipped a beat as she moved—fluidly, playfully, with a grace that felt almost too natural for the setting. She smiled, flashing her teeth as she playfully interacted with the crowd, and Jack found himself frozen for just a moment, caught in the orbit of her energy.

That’s when their eyes met.

Her gaze was sharp and knowing, and in the instant their eyes locked, Jack felt a small jolt, like an electric charge passing through him. The corners of her lips lifted into a smile—playful, confident, like she knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t shy, wasn’t pretending to be anything she wasn’t. She was completely comfortable in her own skin, and there was a certain confidence in that which drew Jack even further into her orbit.

As she continued her routine, Jack couldn’t help but be aware of the others around him, but she remained the focal point of his attention. She danced effortlessly, working the bar like it was a second home, smiling at people, laughing, engaging them without ever missing a beat. She moved like she was born to do this, her energy contagious and impossible to ignore. Every time she spun or tossed her hair back, Jack’s gaze followed her, unable to look away.

When she finally finished her routine, she gracefully stepped down from the bar, the crowd giving her a round of applause as she smoothly walked off the platform. Her confidence didn’t falter for a second as she navigated through the crowd, heading straight toward the bar where the Devils were now settled, drinks in hand, talking amongst themselves. Jack watched as she made her way toward them, a smile still playing on her lips.

She approached the group, her eyes scanning the crowd before landing on Luke Hughes, Jack’s younger brother, who had his own mischievous smile plastered across his face. He had been watching her just as intently as Jack had, and now that she was near, he didn’t waste any time.

"Hey," Luke said with a grin, leaning across the bar toward her. "You were amazing up there. Think you could teach me some of those moves?"

The girl—Y/N, Jack finally caught her name from the bartender—laughed, the sound like music itself. There was no hesitation in her response, just a playful, teasing look.

"If you’re really that interested," she said, her voice light and flirtatious, "I’d say you should join me on the dance floor. But fair warning—you’re gonna have to work for it."

Luke’s grin widened. “I’m up for the challenge.”

Jack, overhearing the exchange, felt a small laugh bubble up in his throat, though he quickly tried to suppress it. He was still processing the whirlwind of his thoughts, his attention split between his brother’s banter and the undeniable pull of Y/N’s energy. There was something about her—something both confident and inviting—that made Jack want to know more. It was hard to ignore the playful chemistry that radiated between them.

Y/N flashed another smile, one that was a little less playful and a bit more knowing. "Alright, then," she said with a wink, before turning toward the dance floor. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

As she walked away, Jack couldn’t help but watch her go. There was a swagger in her step, a confidence in the way she moved that made it clear she was used to being the center of attention. But unlike most people who might be arrogant or self-centered with that kind of energy, there was something about her that felt genuine. She wasn’t playing a part—she was just herself. 

And that was what made her so captivating.

Luke, meanwhile, was already getting up, eagerly following her toward the dance floor. "You coming, Jack?" he called over his shoulder, clearly ready to show off some of his own moves.

Jack hesitated for just a moment before he shook his head, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll catch up later.”

His eyes followed Y/N as she weaved her way through the crowd, and he found himself wondering if this night—this random, chaotic, and spontaneous night in Nashville—was about to lead to something far more interesting than he had ever expected.

The Devils were finally settled in at the bar, each player nursing a cold drink in hand as the evening unfolded around them. The high-energy atmosphere of the PBR Bar continued to buzz with excitement, but now, it was more laid-back—a mix of good conversation and an easy camaraderie that came from having a few wins under their belts and a night off to unwind. The table was full of laughter, some playful teasing, and the sound of ice clinking in glasses.

Y/N, ever the professional, was moving around the bar with the same confidence that had drawn Jack’s attention earlier. She was back with a fresh round of drinks, balancing them effortlessly as she approached their table. Her presence was magnetic, and Jack couldn’t help but watch her as she set the drinks down in front of them. She flashed a smile at the group, her eyes glinting with that same playful spark that had caught Jack off guard earlier.

"Here you go," she said with a smile. "One round for the Devils." Her eyes met Jack’s for a brief moment, and he felt that familiar jolt of attraction. But it was Nico Hischier who broke his reverie, leaning forward with curiosity.

"So, I gotta ask," Nico said, lifting his drink. "What's the deal with the mechanical bull? You guys get a lot of brave souls trying it out?"

Y/N grinned, a mischievous glint lighting up her eyes. "Oh, you know," she said, her voice dripping with playful challenge. "There's always someone trying to show off. But if you're asking about me…" She winked, leaning in just a little. "I’m always happy to give the bull a spin. Might just show you all a thing or two."

Nico chuckled, shaking his head. "I’ll pass. I prefer not to embarrass myself." He raised his drink as if in salute.

Y/N’s lips curled into a playful pout as she straightened up. "Shame," she teased, her tone light but playful. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me." With that, she turned to look at the rest of the Devils players. "Anyone else want to try it? Or are we all too shy tonight?"

But before anyone could answer, the DJ’s voice boomed over the mic, interrupting the group’s conversation.

"Alright, alright, folks, we’ve got a real treat tonight!" The DJ’s voice was energetic, grabbing the attention of everyone in the bar. "This girl here is the best bullrider this side of the Mississippi! She’s our very own homegrown girl, and if you’ve never seen her work, well, you’re in for a show. Give it up for Y/N!"

The crowd cheered, and the energy in the room shifted, becoming even more charged as Y/N grinned and gave the crowd a little wave. Without missing a beat, she winked at the Devils as she stepped away from the bar as "Gotta Get Me Some' by Nickelback began playing.

"Excuse me, boys," she said with a playful glance at Jack. "Duty calls." And just like that, she was off, moving toward the mechanical bull at the center of the room.

Jack watched her go, his eyes following every step as she made her way to the bull. The inflatable pit surrounding it was filled with eager patrons, but Y/N was the one everyone had come to see. She made her way to the mechanical bull with a confidence that sent a ripple of anticipation through the crowd. The DJ introduced her one last time, and a cheer went up from the people around her as she climbed onto the bull like she’d done it a thousand times before.

In that moment, everything seemed to slow down for Jack. He could feel the electric energy in the room focus entirely on Y/N, as if the crowd was holding its collective breath, waiting to see what she’d do next.

With a fluid motion, Y/N slipped into position on the bull, her posture perfect, her legs wrapping around the inflatable beast. She flashed a smile to the crowd, her eyes gleaming with excitement. And then, without a second thought, she kicked the bull into motion.

The machine lurched beneath her, but Y/N didn’t falter. Instead, she leaned into the rhythm, moving with the bucking bull as though she had an intimate understanding of its every move. She adjusted her body, anticipating each jolt, her feet planted firmly as she worked the mechanical bull with a fluidity that stunned the room.

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she controlled the bull with such grace, the way she shifted her weight effortlessly—it was as if she were born to do this. Her body moved with confidence and precision, her hips swaying with the movement of the bull, and there was an undeniable chemistry between her and the mechanical animal. She looked like she could take on anything, and she was doing it all with that playful grin that had first captivated Jack when he saw her on the bar.

The crowd cheered as she pulled off a series of daring moves—one moment leaning back as the bull twisted beneath her, the next bouncing with the motion in perfect sync. Jack’s jaw was practically on the floor, unable to look away from her.

She spun around once, her body moving in tandem with the machine, then threw a teasing wink toward the crowd. As the bull jerked again, she adjusted her stance, gliding effortlessly with its motions, her hands gripping the ropes, but never losing that carefree energy. She had the whole bar watching her, and she knew it—her confidence was contagious.

Jack was completely star-struck, unable to believe what he was witnessing. She wasn’t just a good rider; she was extraordinary. Every twist and turn, every movement felt intentional, like she was showing off the kind of skill only a true professional could possess. And Jack… well, he was mesmerized. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she continued to wow the crowd with her daring moves.

His teammates had noticed too, but Jack didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was Y/N, her laughter and the infectious energy she brought with every movement. She wasn’t just playing to the crowd—she was the heart of it.

When she finally dismounted, landing lightly on her feet in the inflatable pit below, the crowd erupted in applause, and Y/N took a graceful bow, her smile wide and full of satisfaction. She glanced over at the Devils table and gave them a knowing, playful smile before heading back to the bar, where Jack’s gaze remained fixed on her.

As Y/N disappeared back into the crowd, the noise of the PBR Bar returned to full volume, but the Devils were far from distracted. Jack’s attention remained locked on her, his eyes following her every move as she returned to the bar. It didn’t take long before his teammates caught on—after all, Jack wasn’t exactly being subtle.

"Well, well, well," Nico’s voice rang out, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over their table. "Looks like someone’s a little smitten." Nico gave Jack a knowing grin, his eyes flicking between Jack and the bar, where Y/N had just settled behind the counter, exchanging banter with the bartender.

Jack blinked, finally pulling his gaze away from her and trying his best to look casual, though the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. "What? No, I—" he stammered, then tried to recover, "I’m not—what are you even talking about?"

Dougie Hamilton leaned in with a sly smile, his voice low but teasing. "Uh-huh. Right, Jack," he drawled. "You were staring at her like you’d never seen a woman before. Don't even try to play it cool now." He nudged Jack's shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Jack rolled his eyes, trying to mask his embarrassment. “I wasn’t staring. I was just—watching her ride the bull. That was impressive, alright?”

“Oh, we saw it. We all saw it,” Miles Wood chimed in, his grin wide and his voice full of teasing amusement. “You were practically drooling, man. I thought you were gonna jump on that bull yourself.”

Jack groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shut up, guys. She’s just... she’s really good at it. That’s all. You know, like any pro athlete is good at their thing.”

Luke, who had been listening in quietly, suddenly piped up with a devilish grin. “Sure, sure. You weren’t staring at her... just the bull, right? Because you definitely didn’t look like you were about to ask her for a private lesson.”

The rest of the guys burst out laughing, and Jack’s face turned a deeper shade of red. He took a long sip of his drink, hoping the conversation would just die down. But Nico, ever the instigator, wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“C’mon, Jack,” Nico said, leaning in with a grin. “You can’t fool us. You’re looking at her like she just stepped out of your favorite dream. You should go talk to her. She definitely noticed you watching.”

Jack shot Nico a glare, but deep down, he knew they were right. He had been caught. He was staring at Y/N—no denying that. And something about her confidence, her effortless charm—it was hard to ignore. The way she owned the room when she was on that bull had just fascinated him. But talking to her? That felt like a whole other level of nerve he wasn’t sure he was ready to tackle.

“Yeah, you should,” Dougie added, nudging him again. “Go up to the bar, strike up a conversation. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jack shook his head, half-amused and half-exasperated. "I’m not some rookie, guys," he said with a half-smile, trying to play it cool. "I’m just... enjoying the night."

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, just ‘enjoying the night.’ Sure. So why’s your face all red? I don’t think it’s from the drinks.”

“Yeah, tell us about that,” Miles teased, leaning back in his chair, clearly getting comfortable with the teasing. “You’re usually way better at hiding it when you’ve got a thing for someone. But this time? Buddy, it’s written all over your face.”

Jack groaned, and the guys continued to chuckle at his expense. His teammates didn’t miss a beat, continuing their teasing while Jack pretended to ignore them. But deep down, his mind was racing. They were right. He had noticed Y/N. He had been watching her, and for some reason, the whole thing—her confidence, her energy, her way of moving—had left him utterly captivated.

But of course, the team wasn’t going to let him forget it. They kept it up for a while longer, throwing in playful comments and nudges, until Jack was so red in the face he considered ducking out of the bar entirely. But he didn’t.

After a few minutes, Miles gave him a playful wink. "Alright, Jack," he said. "Go on and get it over with. Take the bull by the horns—or, uh, Y/N by the reins."

Jack looked at Miles, then around the table at all his teammates, each one grinning like they knew exactly what he was thinking. He sighed, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Fine. You guys win. But if I do this, it’s on my terms. No more teasing, got it?”

The guys cheered, the teasing dying down as they gave Jack an encouraging look, but there was a mischievous glint in their eyes. They weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

“Good luck, Jack,” Nico said with a wink. “We’ll be right here to watch it unfold. Don't forget to get a selfie with her!”

Jack rolled his eyes again, but with a smirk, he finally stood up, ready to face whatever conversation might come his way. As he made his way toward the bar, he could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, still teasing but oddly supportive in their own way. But none of that mattered as much as the fact that, for some strange reason, he had the feeling that this night was about to get a lot more interesting than he’d expected.

As Jack made his way toward the bar, his heart beat a little faster than he expected. He could hear the muffled chatter and music of the bar growing louder with each step, but in the back of his mind, all he could focus on was the reason he was heading in that direction in the first place.

Y/N.

When he reached the bar, he was momentarily distracted by the sea of people, all milling around, but there she was, standing behind the counter with a drink in hand, casually chatting with a customer. Her smile lit up the space, and for a second, Jack just stood there, watching her effortlessly move between the crowd, her energy magnetic.

Then, as if she sensed his presence, Y/N glanced over, her eyes locking onto Jack’s with a mischievous glint. She flashed a smile, and in a few steps, she was right there in front of him, leaning against the bar casually as if she’d been waiting for him.

“Well, well,” she said, her voice teasing but soft. “Look who finally decided to show up. You ready to ride the bull, or are you just another tourist passing through?” Her eyes sparkled with playfulness as she gave him a knowing look, her lips curving into a smile that made Jack’s stomach flip.

Jack felt his cheeks heat up at the mention of the bull, and suddenly, the confident, laid-back persona he’d had just moments ago felt miles away. His mind went blank for a second, and he found himself stammering, trying to find the right words.

“Uh, w-what?” He cleared his throat. “I mean… I—I wasn’t planning on riding it, but—uh… I guess it’d be… fun to watch.” He couldn’t help but notice how her gaze held his, her eyes locking onto his as if she was daring him to say something else, something more daring.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “Oh really?” she teased. “I thought you were the kind of guy who liked a challenge. I mean, you’ve seen me show you all how it’s done, right?” She leaned a little closer, her voice lowering just enough to make him feel like the room was suddenly smaller. “You sure you’re just here for the drinks?”

Jack blinked a few times, his throat dry. The way she spoke—so confident, so direct—was enough to send him spinning. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to talk to women, but something about her presence made his usual easygoing confidence evaporate in an instant.

“Uh… I, uh…” Jack stammered again, completely flustered by the attention she was giving him. “I mean, I’ve seen you ride the bull, and, uh, it’s... pretty impressive. But, uh, not sure if I’m quite ready to, uh, try it out just yet.”

Y/N’s smirk deepened, her eyes dancing with amusement. She was clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him, and Jack was too far gone to even try to hide it. He could feel his palms start to sweat slightly, the alcohol in his system doing nothing to help his nerves.

“Not ready for the bull, huh?” she teased, her voice almost a whisper now, like she was sharing a secret. “Tell me, Jack—are you always this cautious, or is it just when it comes to me?”

The words hit him like a wave, and Jack could barely keep himself from stumbling over his response. “I—uh—no, I mean—I'm not cautious!” he said quickly, his words tripping over each other. “I just... I mean, I just... didn’t want to make a fool of myself, that's all.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, light and full of teasing, but there was no malice in it—just fun. "Oh, Jack, you're far from making a fool of yourself," she said, her voice playful. "But, hey, if you're too shy, I totally get it. Not everyone’s cut out for the bull. But hey, you might just surprise yourself." 

Jack felt his pulse quicken at the way she looked at him—her gaze softened just a little, and he realized she wasn’t just teasing him. She was flirting, and maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to take the challenge. To prove something. To her.

He didn’t know what came over him, but suddenly, the idea of being cautious felt ridiculous. He’d come this far—he wasn’t going to back down now.

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, his voice now a little steadier than before, though the lingering nerves were still there. “I’ll give it a shot. But only because you made it sound like fun.”

Y/N’s grin widened, clearly pleased with his decision. “That’s what I like to hear,” she said, her voice still low and teasing. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me on that bull, Jack.”

Before he could respond, she gave him a playful wink, and then, without another word, she turned back to the rest of the bar, ready to prep another round of drinks for some eager patrons. Jack, still trying to collect himself, stood there for a moment, his mind racing. Was he really about to ride the mechanical bull? With her watching?

His teammates, watching from their table nearby, couldn’t help but notice the slight color in his cheeks and the distracted look on his face as Y/N walked away. 

“Oh man,” Nico chuckled, nudging Dougie with his elbow. “Looks like Jack’s about to face his biggest challenge of the night.”

Dougie grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Told you, Jack. No backing out now.”

Jack shot them both an exasperated look but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He was in it now. There was no turning back.

With a deep breath, he straightened up and made his way toward the inflatable pit, ready to take on the bull—and whatever else the night might bring.

Jack climbed onto the mechanical bull with as much confidence as he could muster, but the truth was, his legs were already starting to feel like jelly beneath him. He tugged at the straps on the bull, positioning himself as best as he could. His hands gripped the handles in front of him with white knuckles, his palms clammy against the synthetic leather. He could feel the vibrations from the bull beneath him, the mechanical beast waiting to spring into action.

He glanced around, trying to act cool, but there was no denying the fact that he was a little nervous. The cheers from the crowd were loud, almost deafening, as they eagerly awaited the ride. The rest of his team was gathered near the sidelines, teasing and shouting playful encouragements, but Jack’s focus was entirely on the bull and, more specifically, on the girl who had just told him he should give it a shot.

As the bull began to move, swaying beneath him in slow, deliberate motions, Jack’s heart rate increased. He hadn’t expected to be quite this nervous. He tried to settle into a rhythm, trying not to grip the handles too tightly, but the bull jerked suddenly, and he almost lost his balance. 

"Whoa—whoa!" Jack muttered under his breath, holding on even tighter, feeling like he was on the verge of being thrown off at any second. He couldn’t help but laugh nervously at his own awkwardness.

Just as he was beginning to doubt his decision, the crowd cheered again, but this time it wasn’t just for him. To his surprise, a familiar face appeared beside him—Y/N. Without missing a beat, she hopped onto the bull behind him, moving with a fluidity that made Jack feel like he was a complete amateur in comparison. 

The crowd erupted into even more applause, but Jack’s focus was completely stolen by the way she effortlessly adjusted herself behind him, settling into position with the kind of confidence Jack could only dream of having. 

Y/N’s body pressed against his back, her presence warm and undeniable, and she flashed him a grin. “Hold on tight,” she teased, her voice warm and playful, almost as if she was giving him a secret, inside tip. “I don’t bite… unless you want me to.”

Jack’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to laugh or just lose himself in the absurdity of the situation. He was already nervous about riding the bull, and now Y/N was practically pressed against him, her steady, fluid movements making him feel clumsy by comparison.

“Okay,” Jack muttered, trying to gather himself. “I got this.”

Y/N’s laughter vibrated through him, light and infectious. “You’re holding on like your life depends on it,” she teased, her voice close to his ear. “Relax, Jack. You’re not gonna fall. Trust me, I’ve got you.”

The way she said it—so confidently, with such easy familiarity—brought a wave of relief, though Jack still couldn’t shake his nervousness. He shifted slightly, trying to focus on staying balanced, but the more he tried to focus on the bull, the more aware he became of her proximity. She wasn’t just sitting behind him; she was with him, like they were a team, moving together in sync with the motions of the bull.

As the ride started to pick up speed, the mechanical bull bucked, throwing Jack off rhythm. His grip tightened again, but this time, Y/N leaned in a little closer, her body moving with the flow of the ride in perfect harmony. Her hands rested lightly on his waist, not pressing him into the seat but instead offering an unspoken support.

“Relax,” she whispered again, her breath hot against his ear. “You’re doing fine, but you might want to loosen up a little. I’ll keep you steady.”

Jack tried to focus on her words. He forced himself to relax his grip on the bull’s handle, feeling more at ease with each passing second. His nervous energy slowly started to drain away, replaced by a growing sense of exhilaration. The more he adjusted to the rhythm of the bull, the more he could feel his awkwardness melting away, replaced by a genuine confidence he hadn’t expected. 

The bull swerved to the left, then to the right, and Jack found himself following the motion without thinking. His body was no longer stiff and rigid—it was almost as if he was moving with the bull and with Y/N behind him, sharing the ride in perfect sync. He could feel her fingers brushing against the side of his waist as she shifted her position, her breath matching the movement of the bull. It was a strange kind of chemistry, born not just from the thrill of the ride but from their proximity to one another.

Suddenly, the bull made a sharp turn, and for a moment, Jack thought he was going to lose it. But before he could react, Y/N’s hands slid from his waist to his shoulders, steadying him, keeping him from falling.

“You’ve got this, Jack!” she called over the music, her voice full of encouragement. “Just a little more.”

He felt his heart race—not from fear of falling, but from the intensity of the moment, the fact that they were working together as a team, even if it was just on a mechanical bull. Her presence behind him was more than just physical—it was reassuring, playful, and a little daring all at once. It made him feel like he could actually do this.

With a final hard buck, the bull tossed them both to the side, and Jack, unable to hold on any longer, was thrown off and landed in the inflatable pit with a soft bounce. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, before finally sitting up, grinning despite himself.

From where he lay, Jack watched Y/N, who had managed to stay on much longer. She didn’t even look winded. In fact, she was moving with such ease, Jack couldn’t help but admire her control. She shifted, adjusting her position on the bull, and the crowd erupted into cheers as she performed a smooth roll off the bull, flipping backward in a move that was so graceful, it almost looked like she was part of a dance.

As she landed in the inflatable pit with a playful flourish, Jack couldn’t help but laugh, clapping along with the rest of the crowd. Y/N grinned widely, breathless from the ride but still full of that infectious energy.

The crowd roared with applause, and Jack couldn’t help but laugh, his nerves now completely gone, replaced by a rush of adrenaline.

He turned slightly to face Y/N, who was grinning from ear to ear. “See?” she said, her voice light and teasing. “Told you you could do it.”

Jack laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, I guess you were right,” he admitted, still trying to catch his breath. “You really do know how to ride this thing.”

Y/N’s grin softened into something a little more sincere as she slid off the bull and helped Jack down. “I’ve had a little practice,” she said with a wink, her eyes twinkling. “But you did pretty damn good for a first-timer.”

Jack couldn’t stop smiling, his heart still racing from the ride. As he slid off the bull, he realized that for once, he didn’t feel out of place—he was right where he needed to be. And for some strange reason, he had Y/N to thank for that. 

As the applause died down, the energy of the room shifted, but Jack didn’t mind. He was too busy trying to steady his pulse from the ride—and the effect she’d had on him.

Jack laughed, still catching his breath. “Yeah, well, I guess I had a pretty good instructor.” He looked over at her, the smile never leaving his face. "You were amazing. I don’t know how you make it look so easy.”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes glinting with the same playful mischief. “It’s all about confidence,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “You’ve got to trust the bull and trust yourself. And, well,” she added with a wink, “trust your partner.”

The night was in full swing now. The PBR Bar had transformed into an electric dance party, with the lights flashing in time to the music and the floor packed with people moving to the beat. The Devils’ players were a part of it all, but none more so than Jack, who had managed to find his rhythm after a few drinks and a mechanical bull ride. His teammates—Luke and Nico especially—had captured his entire bull-riding ordeal on their phones, giggling and mocking him as they relived the moment. Jack wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or amused, but one thing was clear: tonight, the team was in the mood to let loose.

As the beat pulsed through the air, the guys found themselves drawn to the dance floor. Some of the PBR girls were already moving, their energy infectious as they led the crowd through a series of fun, teasing moves. The bar was buzzing with excitement, and the atmosphere had an almost magnetic quality to it.

Jack, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time, was talking with his brother Luke and Nico, his usual nerves replaced by a certain boldness. He even found himself tapping along to the rhythm of the song, though he wasn’t quite ready to go all-in like some of the others. His attention was split between the conversation and the lively scene around him, but every so often, his gaze flickered toward the bar, where he noticed a familiar face.

Y/N was back at her post, filling out orders, chatting with patrons, but Jack noticed something—she was scanning the crowd. His heart skipped when he realized she was looking for him. 

Just as he turned back to talk to Nico, the music shifted, and an early 2000s hit blared from the speakers—“Up Down (Do This All Day)” by T-Pain. Jack barely had time to adjust to the change before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned, surprised to see Y/N standing in front of him, her smile playful and bright, as though she’d been waiting for this moment. 

“Need a dancing partner?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischievous energy, her tone inviting but full of that daring confidence Jack had come to admire.

Jack blinked, momentarily speechless, before he recovered, a grin spreading across his face. “Uh, sure. Why not?” He looked around at his brother and Nico, who were both giving him knowing looks. Nico smirked, while Luke whooped in the background, cheering for his older brother like he was rooting for a game-winning goal.

Before Jack could even second-guess himself, Y/N had already extended her hand, her fingers outstretched toward him in the middle of the crowded dance floor.

Without hesitating, Jack reached for her hand, the touch sending a rush of excitement through him. He allowed her to pull him into the sea of bodies, the beats of the song vibrating through the floor as the crowd around them moved with rhythm and energy. The space was packed, and the bodies were close, but in that moment, Jack didn’t mind. 

Y/N led him into the crowd with ease, her confidence setting the pace as she began moving fluidly to the beat, teasing the crowd with her effortless sway. Jack stumbled at first, trying to find his footing, but Y/N’s gaze never wavered from him. She was watching him intently, with a glint in her eyes that made him feel like they were the only two people on the floor.

Relax, Jack," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "Follow my lead."

Jack took a deep breath as he allowed her to move against him. There was no space between them, not anymore. His eyes fell to her lips, watching them move in time with the music. The music pulsed through him, the rhythm heavy and primal. She rocked back and forth, her hips moving seductively against his.

“Mmm,” he said, his voice low and husky. His hands settled on the small of her back as she ground against him, moving her hips in time with the beat. She felt warm under his touch, soft and inviting.

"Let the music do the work," she said, her mouth finding his ear again, her tongue brushing against his skin and sending shivers down his spine.

Jack couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him at the feel of her tongue on him. His grip on her hips tightened and she laughed, her breath warm against him as she turned her head to meet his eyes. Jack held her gaze, mesmerized by the bright glint of mischief that lit up the dark depths.

Y/N pulled back slowly, her hands finding their way back to his shoulders. The song’s chorus hit, loud and pulsing through the packed dance floor. They turned, swaying in time, her body pressed against his. Jack could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, could feel her hips moving against his. His eyes were locked on hers as she raised her arms above her head and turned, swaying back into him.

“Up down do this all day,” she breathed, turning again with the rhythm. Jack watched the way her hair moved, watched the way her hips rolled seductively, back and forth. His hands found her hips again, moving in time with her as she rolled against him.

She was the only one he saw. The only one he felt. Jack didn’t know what had come over him, but he couldn’t deny it. This girl had lit something in him.

The song shifted, the beat deepening and slowing. Y/N’s hands found their way to his shoulders again, and Jack pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together as they swayed in time. He felt her hand slide up his neck to tangle in his hair, her touch sending shivers down his skin. Her fingers slid along his nape, teasing the sensitive skin there, and he heard her low moan as she turned again and pressed herself against him.

Jack’s mouth found her neck, his lips ghosting over her skin. She tilted her head back and he took the opportunity to drag his lips up her throat and along the smooth line of her jaw. Her breath hitched as he nipped at the soft curve of her ear.

“You’ve got the rhythm now,” she whispered. “All day.” Jack smirked against her neck. He liked this girl. She made him feel good. She made him want.

“Want to find out?” Jack asked, his breath hot against her skin. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “What else I can do?” Y/N blinked up at him, her eyes dark and full of promise.

Y/N smiles and wraps her arms around Jack's neck, pulling him closer, her hips grinding against his as they sway to the music. Jack moans softly, feeling her warm skin against his, his body responding to her movements.

"Baby, I'm your best bet," she whispers in his ear, her tongue flicking along the curve of his earlobe.

Jack groans tossing his head back knowing how much trouble he is in. Y/N pulls away once the song ends and winks at him before returning towards the bar where it was her turn to be the bar dancer. Her moves hit with each beat of the next song. 

Jack was screwed and he knew it. He adjusted himself in his pants before going to find his brother and teammates. Y/N was trouble. And he was ready to get in. The night was still young, and so was Jack. He was ready to have the night of his life.

The Devils’ boys were the life of the party now. With their confidence boosted after their game, their usual antics returned to full effect. Jack settled in with his brother, Nico, and a few others for a round of shots. The bar had shifted gears and gone into full dance mode, the girls dancing on the bars now, and Jack found himself more than once looking toward the bar for the girl in red.

Y/N came back to their table to serve them all once again, Jack's gaze burning into her. He had to have her one way or another. Nico asks Y/N to stay and join them which she playfully pouts and says that she can't but secretly slides a paper into Jack's hand. Jack looks down and back at her and she winks, he reads it and tells the boys he's going to the dancefloor which they all nod.

Jack ends up walking to the bathroom where he finds Y/N perched on one of the vanities. His blood began to heat seeing her. Her back was arched, her breasts pushed out, her hair spread out in front of her as if waiting for him. His dick grew hard at the sight and he knew this was where the trouble started. He closed the door behind them and locked it knowing they would be here for a minute or two. His gaze never left hers. 

"You're so fucking gorgeous." Jack whispered as he moved towards her, his hands settling on her hips. She smirked and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down into a kiss. Jack moaned at the taste of her, she tasted like heaven. She had her hand on the side of his face as she kissed him, their tongues tangling together as Jack ran his hands up her thighs to settle on her ass, giving it a squeeze before he slid his hands under her ass and pulled her up off the counter.

He walked to the wall and pinned her against it, her legs wrapping around his waist as they kissed. Jack pulled away for a second and looked into her eyes.

"You're incredible," he whispered as he pulled her close. 

Y/N laughs softly, her hands moving to cup his face. "You're not bad yourself." She leans in to kiss him again before pulling away with a smirk. "We shouldn't be doing this here."

"Yeah? What's stopping you?" Jack asks, his lips finding hers again. She moans softly before pulling away again.

Y/N gazes into his blue eyes. She wasn't the type of girl to hook up with a guy she just met at her job but something about Jack made her core burn with want.  She wanted him. He felt like fun, and tonight she was in the mood for fun. Jack's eyes never left hers, his blue burning into her, full of heat.

"Fuck it." She muttered before she grabbed Jack by the collar of his shirt and pulling him to her, their lips crashing together in a kiss. Jack moans, his hips thrusting against her as he kisses her back.

She gasps as his hips hit her core and she pulls away from him, both of them breathing heavy.

"Giddy up cowgirl," Jack said as he ran his hands under her thighs and turned them. He pushed her up against the wall, her back to the glass wall. She nodded with a gasp as his lips met hers. Jack pushed her legs up to wrap around him again.

His hips thrust against her and she whimpered softly. She wanted him already. Jack chuckled against her lips and his hand trailed it's way down her body to her red bottoms and stirrups. Y/N pulled away and began kissing down Jack's jaw to his neck. He struggled to undo the clasps holding the stirrups to her hips. 

"Why do these have to be complicated." He groaned as Y/N giggled at his desperation. She replaces her hands with his and undos the clasps. The stirrups falling to the ground as Jack grabs Y/N's hips and pulls her off the vanity, spins her so her back is to his chest. He grinds into her and his hand finds it's way to her neck wrapping his hands around it slightly squeezing, "You feel what you do to me baby?"  He asks, his mouth finding her ear again. Y/N nods, moaning softly, the wetness between her legs growing. 

"Tell me you want it." Jack growled as he nips her earlobe, his hand on her thigh sliding up under the hem of her short shorts. Y/N gasped softly at the feel of his fingers on her sensitive skin.

Y/N moans and nods vigorously watching herself fall apart on the hockey player’s fingers. "I want to hear you say it." Jack groaned as he pressed his fingers against her, feeling how wet she was for him. He pressed his fingers into her, feeling her tighten around him. Y/N moaned and writhed on his fingers.

"Please, I want it." She moaned softly, his hand tightening on her neck as she writhed and moved against his hand.

Jack pushed his fingers into her harder and faster, hearing her moans in his ear, and that’s when he realized the wall opposite them was mirrored. He could see them. He could see himself playing with her pussy. Jack grins in the reflection, it was hot. He saw her writhing on his fingers, her head tilting back to rest on his shoulder and her breasts heaving with the quick breaths she was taking. Jack felt himself hardening more.

"Look at you," He said, his voice huskier. "Look what we're doing baby." Jack's lips found her ear again, his breath tickling his breath tickling her skin and she shivered. Y/N looked back at the reflection and she gasped softly. Jack's arms wrapped around her stomach and his free hand moved up to cup her breasts. They were heavy in his hand, full and hot as she moaned.

Jack found her nipple with his thumb and forefinger and he pinched it, his fingers moving in and out of her. Y/N gasps as she moans again. Jack smirked to himself. She looked incredible like that, writhing on his hand and fingers as he played her body. 

"Tell me I can take you," Jack muttered into her ear. Y/N gasped as he pinched her nipple again, she nodded as he slid another finger into her pussy.

"Fuck, I'm close." Jack could feel her pussy tightening on his fingers and he smirked into the reflection. He liked the sight of his hand playing with her pussy, he loved the look of her tits in his hands. Y/N whimpered. "Yeah?" he smugly asks, grinning down at her. "That's a good girl." He muttered as he picked up the speed. She gasps and nods again. Jack could see her watching the reflection, her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed.

"Come for me, Y/N." Jack demands and she moans as his fingers press into her g-spot, she comes apart on his hand, her orgasm hitting her hard and fast. Jack watched the reflection as her pussy clenched around his fingers before he pulled them out and brought them to her mouth. "Clean them like a good girl."  He muttered to her and she nods, her mouth falling open as his wet fingers slide into her mouth. She moaned as she tasted herself. She sucked them clean, licking them with precision, and Jack groaned at the sight. He pulled his fingers from her mouth and turned her to face him, he was about to kiss her when Y/N automatically dropped to her knees undoing the button to Jack's pants and pulling down his zipper. 

She couldn't contain herself. She needed to taste him and have him on her tongue. His pants fell to the floor with a soft thump as Y/N began mouthing at Jack's cock through his boxers. His soft groans fill the bathroom of the club. "Don't tease me babe." he mutters. Y/N hums as she pulls his boxers down and his cock slaps his stomach. Y/N moans, she knew he was big but goddamn. She felt herself grow even wetter just knowing he's going to stretch her out perfectly. He curved slightly to the right. His pink tip turning red and leaking precum. Jack moans and she begins placing open mouthed kisses along the base and licking the vein to the tip. She looked up at Jack to find him staring down at her, his eyes burning with lust. She proceeds to kitten lick his tip. She hums at the salty taste.  

Y/N felt Jack's hands find themselves in her hair. He was holding a fistful of her hair but not pulling yet. She took him into her mouth, sucking him in and swirling her tongue around him as she bobbed on his cock. Jack was breathing harder now. His breathing comes in sharp inhales and exhales. His hand tightens on her hair and she moans softly around his cock as he holds her head still and pumps into her mouth. The sounds of him fucking her mouth filled the bathroom. His hips thrusting in and out of her mouth, his breaths growing harsher. 

"Y/N," he muttered and she moans around him, loving how deep he was going into her mouth and down her throat. He was hitting her gag reflex, but she didn't care. She wanted this. She wanted him. Jack groaned, his hand cupping her chin and tilting her head up so she had to look at him as he fucked her mouth.

"I'm gonna come in your mouth if you don't stop." He muttered, his eyes meeting hers as she sucked him into her mouth. Y/N takes him down her throat once more and holds him there swallowing around him as he lets out a loud moan. He yanks her off and pulls her up before wrapping his hand around her throat and kissing her. The kiss was nasty.

"Only way I'm cumming is in this sweet pussy of yours." Jack muttered between kisses as he turned Y/N making her face the mirror. Her hands finding the granite surface.  

Jack's hand trailing down her back and settling on her ass, he gave it a squeeze and then slapped it hard enough to get her attention. Y/N moans at the slap as Jack trails kisses down her neck to her shoulder. Y/N's back arched slightly as Jack's tongue trails down her spine. "Oh god," She gasps, he kisses the base of her spine and moves down to kiss the top of her ass. She hears Jack spit and the squelch of him stroking himself fills the room before his hand slides up her inner thigh. She moans as she hears him rub the tip of his cock along her pussy lips. Jack growls softly and slowly pushes in making Y/N feel every thick inch. Y/N gasps softly, she was so full. He bottomed out in her with a groan as he settled there.

"You feel so fucking good," Jack muttered, he trails kisses up her spine. Y/N pushes back into him, silently asking to move. Jack obliged, his cock pulling out with a squelch before pushing back in. "Your cock feels so good," She muttered as Jack picked up the pace and he began thrusting into her harder. His hips slapping against her ass and thighs as his balls slapped her pussy with each thrust. 

They were both moaning and Jack's grip on her hips tightened. Y/N reached down and began rubbing her clit, the sensation building again and Jack watched her in the reflection. His blue eyes burning as he watched her. His eyes locked on hers in the reflection as he began thrusting harder into her. Their breathing became more labored.

"God, look how good you look taking my cock." Jack said as he grabbed a handful of Y/N's hair making her look at her reflection. She moaned at what she saw, she was pure filth and she loved it. Her face was flushed, her hair a mess as he fucked her, her legs shaking as she rubbed her clit. Her eyes were wide and blown, her cheeks burning. Jack let go of her hair as her moans picked up. 

Y/N felt like she could feel him her stomach, just rearranging her guts from how deep he was. Jack lifted her leg onto the vanity and Y/N damn near screamed. He was reaching spots in her she didn't know she had, but fuck did she love it. 

He wrapped an arm around her stomach as his other hand cupped her breast and he pinched her clit with his fingers and began rubbing it hard as he continued to fuck into her at a brutal pace. Jack leaned in close to her ear. "You like that baby?" He grunted into her ear before he bit it and Y/N came hard and loud on his cock, her pussy squeezing him in a vice as she came. Jack groaned softly as he kept fucking her until she was done, then he began fucking into her harder, chasing his own orgasm. Jack's hand tightened on her hip, his breaths growing more erratic. Y/N watched him in the mirror as he chased his orgasm.

"Fuck I'm gonna come, I need to come." He growled out. Y/N nodded. "Do it Jack. Fill me up so good." Jack let out a shaky breath, he moaned softly and pushed in one last time bottoming out in her as his cock pulsed and filled her with his cum. Jack gasped softly, leaning forward and pulling her against his chest, they watched the reflection of themselves as Jack fucked in and out of her slowly emptying his cum in her. Finally Jack pulled out and they both watched as his cum dripped down her thigh. Y/N felt full. Jack could swear he could get hard again at the sight. He shook himself out of his trance as he reached over for some paper towels and helped Y/N clean herself up before he did the same himself.  

They both redressed and Y/N tried to fix her appearance despite her curls being a bit frizy from Jack's grip. Her makeup was smudged. After fixing herself up she helped Jack fix his hair and Jack helped her put her stirrups back on.

His hands lingered on her hips as he looked at her. "What is my lipstick still smudged?" Y/N asks. He smiles and shakes his head. "I don't think this can be a one time thing." he said. She lifted an eyebrow, "Oh you get slutted out and now you're addicted?" Y/n teases . Jack growls as he pulls her close and kisses her. "Shut the fuck up before I decide to turn you around and fuck you again." She gasps at the kiss as Jack pulls away, his eyes dark and lustful. They stood there in silence for a moment.

"Well pull it out." Y/N spoke. Jack raised his eyebrows in shock, god she was insatiable. She smirked, "Your phone horndog. Give me your phone." she said. He reaches into his jeans and unlocks it before passing it to her. Y/N puts in her number and takes a selfie then hands it back. "Now whenever you're back in Nashville, call me and we can do this again." she said before pulling him down for another kiss and went to leave the bathroom. Jack stood there looking at her contact, he knew it was a great idea to come out tonight.

[alexablissmark]

hey look at me posting here's my painting

[lexi0widow]

Yk at AEW all in london during the hook vs jack perry match when hook slams him into the car but immediately grabs his head in pain.

Ive been thinking about that so heres a drabble of hook coming home to you with a pouding headache because of that moment 😛

The moment in question in case you need context

Hook groaned out again, he had been laying across the couch with his head in your lap for what felt like days but was more so about two hours.

His head had been pounding since his match earlier tonight and he had came to you in the hopes that you could help him feel better, and whilst your fingers running through his hair was soothing his migraine just wouldn’t go away.

‘Sit up for me hon.’ You said gently

He sits up slowly groaning out in pain whilst doing so he looks at you silently asking what you’re gonna do. Instead of answering you stand up, grabbing water and some of his favourite snacks, you turn the tv on so you two can continue the show you both are watching.

You drop the snacks and remote on the bed going back to where hes sat to grab his hand pulling him up and dragging him to bed. You lay down and open your arms allowing him to lay on top of you.

You continue to stroke his hair making sure he drinks plenty of water as you both eat some snacks. After about 30 minutes his breathing begins to soften and his eyes close.

‘Goodnight my love, Im so proud of you.’

Is the last thing he hears before drifting off to sleep.

[dagermanvampdanhausen]

You’ve given me everything, now I’ll give the Devil your due.

[heelbucks]

Being in a poly relationship with HookHausen hcs?

poly!hookhausen hcs

danhausen immediately threatening to curse anyone who hurts you two in the ring

hook likes being little spoon secretly

being the only people hook shares his chips with <33

they def fight over who gets to kiss you first when they get home

taz loving you and being so understanding of your dynamic

being middle spoon so you get to be held and hold one of your boys

they both love getting their hair played with and thank god you have two hands

head scratches are the only way to get them to danhausen to shut up sometimes, even though you love his ramblings.

trying to make them break character when you're helping them film promos

helping donovan do his makeup <33

as always my inbox is open for requests 🩷

[5secondsofmoxley]

✨ Masterlist ✨

Hook

Wrestling With Feelings: Part 1, Part 2

Jay White

Screwed: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4(Final)

Believe: Part 1, Part 2

Non Wrestling Fics

Jordan Catalano

Random Drabble

[mgnbnye]

master list!!

rules (please read before requesting!!)

intro abt the writer!! (Just a little get to know the writer!)

active since: feb 2025

REQUESTS R OPENED ‼️‼️

_______________________________________________

some ships I write for 😋

1. Timeless glamour

2. Rose gold

3. Brittjamie

4. cmjf

5. adamjf

6. willkyle

7. stathart

8. bluehart

9. hayterhart

10. tonijamie

11. hookhausen

12. strickpage

13. Danielnigel

feel free to request a ship that isnt on the list I'm just kinda listing down some ships I do know (it’s guaranteed I’ll say yes tho 😔

Also, I can do x reader and make a classic one direction x y/n story!! so yk if that’s interesting 100% you should request 😼 (make it as wattpad as you want like alpha ahh shit fr fr)

[danielgarcias]

❝Can i keep this?❞

Hook x Fem! reader

not requested i just thought of it

not my gif!!

hook masterlist ❀ masterlist

ꨄ english is not my first language! i apologies for any mistakes

Hook looked over at you, turning his attention away from his phone, cocking his eyebrow at you, the look going completely unnoticed by you as you bit your lip in concentration.

The weather had been awfully cold lately, you really didn’t expect it so you had barley bought any hoodies or sweaters. So you got up from the bed, your large blanket still covering your body as you rummaged through the insane amount of hoodies your lovely boyfriend had.

You spent a good 5-10 minutes looking through all of them before picking out the perfect one. A simple white one. To be fair, it looked very comfy, and fairly new. You put it against your body, realising it went just past your thighs. You completely disregard your blanket and quickly got into the hoodie.

You waddled over to your boyfriend who was laying peacefully on your bed, his back against the headboard as he kept his eyes on you.

“Can I keep this?” You asked, a wide smile on your face, already knowing the answer.

“Well you already have it on” He replied in his usual nonchalant manner.

“Sooo.. that’s a yes?” You said, climbing into the bed, cuddling up next to him.

He kissed the top of your head, ruffling your hair.

“Mhm, that’s a yes”

very bery very short but i like it so idc!!

[chvcklefvck]

Intimidation

[Hookhausen x AFAB!Reader]

Summary: Your best friend, Danhausen, has seemed to throw you to the wayside once Hook becomes his partner. You can't stand for this, so you do the only thing you know will get his attention: steal Hook's chips.

Word Count: 2,900+

Warnings: 18+! SMUT! MNORS DNI! Blowjobs, biting, PiV sex (please let me know if I happened to forget one)

A/N: While this is AFAB!Reader, i do not use pronouns in this specifically for people who want to read it and don't use she/her. AFAB is what I'm currently comfortable writing, but I'm trying to branch out towards male!Reader as well! I hope you all enjoy this! Also, my fics are written in Kayfabe!

Danhausen stands in front of you, his hands clasped together and a worried look on his face. You narrow your eyes at him, your hands behind your back, gripping the little bag of chips tightly.

“Please give those back,” Danhausen’s voice is filled with concern. “Before he finds out.”

You huff up at him and shake your head, “You don’t intimidate me, Danhausen.”

Danhausen’s eyes move behind you, and then back to you. You ignore the movement, chalk it down to nerves. He quickly reaches behind you and without thinking, you move as fast as possible, maneuvering around him and switching places. The chips are still behind your back, your eyes still on Danhausen.

Until you see why he looked behind you earlier.

Your eyes go wide when you see Hook making his way towards the both of you. You take a step back and your arms fall to your sides. Hook sees the bag of chips in your hand and you can see him inhale sharply.

Danhausen may not intimidate you, but Hook rocks you to your core. You do the only thing you can think of. Run.

You turn and hightail it out of there. You’re trying your best to not get caught and really trying to not bump into anyone. You slow slightly once you reach catering and bump into Britt, leaving you absolutely vulnerable.

“Why are you running?” Britt cocks a brow at you and notices the chips in your hands, the chips you could have dropped when you took off running to deter Hook. “Oh.” That’s her only response. Her eyes dart behind you and you turn around.

You see Hook walking towards you, his brows furrowed and his breathing heavy. You take a step back and turn in any and all directions, finding yourself stuck. As you turn away from the wall behind you, you notice Hook standing there. Menacingly.

Letting out a nervous laugh, you back into the wall and Hook corners you. The chips are pulled to your chest and you try to hand them to him, pushing them towards his chest. You give him a nervous smile and notice Danhausen in your peripheral vision. Your saving grace, perhaps your knight in shining armor. Until he sees Britt.

“Oh! Do you have any teeth for Danhausen?”

Your face drops. You look back at Hook with a pout and hope he takes the chips and leaves you alone. He doesn't budge though.

“Danhausen!” You call out in hopes of him getting Hook to get off of you. He looks at you and mouths an ‘oh’ and excuses himself.

“I told you to give them to Danhausen.” He scolds you, shaking his head. You swallow hard and look away from the two.

“I didn’t want to!” You snap at him, causing him to gasp. “You’ve barely even looked in my direction since befriending him.” You nod your head at Hook and huff. You muster up your courage and glare at Hook, before looking back at Danhausen.

“What?” Danhausen seems confused. “This is about-”

“It’s about being left in the dust! You’re my best friend!”

“You thought stealing Hook’s chips would get my attention?” Danhausen cocks his head at you.

“Well, I wanted attention from, uh, both of you.” Your statement catches them both off guard and Hook raises an eyebrow at you. “Anyway…You can have your chips back, I was just being childish…”

Hook doesn’t grab them. Instead he looks back at Danhausen and nods for him to come over. Your hands are still out towards Hook, waiting for him to grab the chips. You're lightly touching his chest. Hook’s arms bend and he inches closer to you.

“You can,” You almost trail off, “take these now…” Your voice is low and you’re nervously laughing. You’re stuck waiting for Danhausen to speak or for Hook to take the chips. When something is finally said, you are baffled.

“No,” Hook speaks, causing chills to run down your spine, “I don’t think I will.”

This is the first time Hook has actually said anything to you. Your stomach turns and you look at Danhausen, who is just as shocked as you are it would seem. You’re all nervous-laughed out and you can’t muster the courage to run, so naturally you stare at Hook with wide eyes.

“You wanted my attention, didn’t you?” Hook asks and you give him a nod. “Come to our hotel room tonight.”

He gently takes the chips from you and he walks off. You give Danhausen a look and Danhausen returns the expression. You take a step forward and peek around, seeing if any one was watching that. Britt seems to have disappeared and only Danhausen seems to have witnessed it. Which is honestly for the best, you think.

“Danhausen…” You say his name as more of a question than anything else. Once he nods, you continue, “What was that?”

He gives you a smile, “You will find out tonight!”

Danhausen walks off. You stand in the middle of the hall with more questions than answers and try to shake that weird feeling off. The main event is going and you have about thirty minutes before you have to be back at the hotel. You shut your eyes and suck in harshly.

“What was that?” Britt walks up, confusion written all over her face.

“Oh…��� You freeze, “I will find out tonight.”

Britt’s eyes widen and she can only nod, before walking away as if she knows something you do not.

____________

You’re pacing around your hotel room, looking down at your phone. You keep checking the time. Danhausen did not even tell you what room they were in. Your phone dings and you immediately check it.

‘Hook wants to know where you are.’

-Friendhausen

‘I dont know ur room number :(‘

You send the frowny face without thinking. Immediately you are worried you look desperate. You inhale slowly and calm yourself, but when your phone goes off again you freeze.

‘Oh, we are in room 234.’

You let out a groan, you know there is no excuse for you to not show up now. You decide to write a quick note for your roommate that you’d be back later and exit the room. You begin walking towards the elevator and inhale sharply through your nose, trying to calm yourself.

You go into autopilot as you enter the elevator. Thoughts of what is in store for you fill your mind and by time almost every option has entered and exited, you realize you’re standing at the room Danhausen sent you. You swallow hard and bring your hand up to knock. Before you can even hit the door, it’s being flung open.

“You made it!” You are pulled into the room and the door shuts behind you.

“Danhausen…” You narrow your eyes at him. “How did you know- How’d you know it was me?” Danhausen shakes his head at you and you snort, feeling yourself grow comfortable, “Did you open it anytime you heard footsteps?”

“Yeah,” Hook is sitting on the edge of the bed. Immediately you are tense again. You turn to him and he stands up and makes his way towards you.

“Uh, so,” you rub your palms up and down the sides of your thighs and look between Hook and Danhausen, “Sorry about the chips. If that’s what this is even about…”

“No,” Danhausen shakes his head again, “It’s not the chips.”

“Then… What is it? I mean,” You hug yourself, “If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, you could just say that-”

“It’s not that, Danhausen loves being your friend!”

“Then what is it?” You are focused solely on Danhausen, but when it isn’t him that replies, your stomach drops.

“It’s you.” Hook’s face is deadpan, his eyes boring into yours. You take a step back and bump into Danhausen, who gently grabs your biceps steadying you.

“Is this a joke?” Your voice is a whisper. Your eyes don’t leave Hook’s. When he shakes his head you can only blink at him.

“We both like you,” Danhausen’s lips hit your ear and your breath catches in your throat, “Hook has a proposition.”

You mouth an ‘oh’ and you can feel your chest heaving, anxiety taking over. Hook takes a step closer, and you are stuck in between him and Danhausen. Danhausen squeezes your biceps and you relax into his touch. You know he would not let anything happen to you.

“We want you to join us,” Hook’s eyes aren’t leaving you, and you’re too enamored to look away.

“Like,” Your words aren’t forming, you try to keep from blabbering though, “in the bedroom?”

“However you want to join us,” Danhausen is still holding you, still whispering in your ear. “Whether it’s out to dinner, or here now.”

“Well,” You look over your shoulder at Danhausen and then at Hook, “I’m not really hungry for food right now…”

Hook smirks at you, and for a moment there is only silence. What you said seems to be settling, Hook and Danhausen seem to be processing it.

“Oh,” Danhausen’s hands fall from your arms and to his sides, “do you want to leave? Go to dinner another time?”

“No,” You shake your head, “I want to be here… with the both of you.”

It seems to click and Danhausen lights up. Hook takes a step back, and it’s just you and Danhausen. You’re staring over your shoulder at him and he’s staring at you with wide, excited eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question causes your stomach to turn, butterflies making their home there, and you nod. Danhausen is quick to kiss you, and without hesitation, you are kissing back. You turn your body to his, letting him cup your face and pull you into a deeper kiss. Danhausen begins to move forward, slowly, causing you to back up with him. Assuming he’s going to the bed, you let it happen.

When your body hits Hook’s, you remember it isn’t just you and your best friend. Your best friend’s boyfriend is also in the room.

“Can I touch you?” His voice is low, his lips right below your ear lobe.

Danhausen is quick to move from your lips and to your jawline, nipping and kissing his way down to your throat. With his lips away from yours, you're able to answer Hook. You give a nod, too out of breath to answer. Hook is pressed to your back, his hands move around your waist and are quick to head south.

Your head rolls back and hits Hook’s shoulder. Your arms are wrapped around Danhausen’s neck and his hands are directly above Hook’s. Hook whispers how good you are in your ear and his hands make their way towards the waistband of your jeans. He is quick to undo the button and slide down the zipper and you begin to wiggle, letting the jeans fall to the floor.

Hook’s hands are now on your hips, Danhausen’s are on your waist, and you are sandwiched between the both of them. Danhausen, without thinking, begins to get a little bitey. You let out a whimper when his teeth collide with your collarbone and as soon as he realizes he bit a little too hard he is quick to kiss the spot.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against your skin, “So sorry.”

You have no time to respond. Hook’s hands are on your underwear now, and he’s in your ear again, “Can I take these off?”

You nod, “Please.” That’s all he needs. He is quick to pull them down and you step out of them. You realize you’re still wearing a top, and both of them are still fully dressed. Hook’s hands are quick to find the pooling heat between your legs. Without thinking, you slightly spread your legs for him.

Hook buries his face in your neck and smiles against your skin. His thumb is quick to find your clit and a couple of fingers push past your folds. He is eager to make you feel good, and you are eager for whatever the two of them have in store for you. Hook’s thumb circles your clit and he begins to pump two fingers in and out of you. You stand between them, a moaning mess, knees going weak. Hook and Danhausen are quick to hold you up, making sure you don’t fall from their grasp.

“Fuck,” seems to be all you can muster as Danhausen gets handsy with yout chest. His hands are under your shirt and he tweeks your niples, steady nipping at your collarbone and neck. Your moans fill the air, and you soon realize you aren’t the only one excited. As you’re rocking between Hook and Danhausen you can feel them through their pants.

You have zero time to confront this though, Hook is steadily making sure you cum and Danhausen seems to be fine biting the hell out of you. When you can feel the euphoria approaching you’re quick to let them know.

“I’m gonna-” You begin to stutter, “Fuck, please, let me cum.”

“Of course,” Hook does not slow down with his touches. His fingers pick up pace and you’re left a shaking, barely breathing mess between the two. Then it hits. You’re seeing stars and seem to be extra sensitive to the sudden bite from Danhausen. Your arms tense around him and you pull him closer to you. With Hook’s fingers still inside of you, you’re whining and trying to not cry out with pleasure.

“I want,” Your breathing is leveling out, but your brain still feels fuzzy, “I want to make you both feel good too.”

Hook’s fingers finally slow and he pulls away. Danhausen laps at the bite before also pulling back and looking at you with intense desire.

“What do you want?” Hook’s eyes are on Danhausen, but he’s speaking to you.

“Danhausen, get undressed and lay on the bed.”

He obliges, and Hook smiles against your neck, giving it a gentle kiss. You quickly take your shirt off and realize just how naked you are. You don’t let it stop you though, you are not going to quit.

You make your way to the bed, where Danhausen lays naked and bite your bottom lip. You inhale sharply and crawl on the bed in front of him. You look up at him with dark eyes, desire fully taking control. You’re in between his legs and bend down, ass in the air.

Thinking has completely gone out the window and you are running on pure lust. Danhausen watches you, your eyes cut up to him and you put his dick in your mouth. You’re slow to start, licking up and down his cock, your eyes staying on his.

As soon as you wrap your mouth completely around his dick, Danhausen bucks slightly. A loud gag makes its way from your throat and Danhausen moans. One of his hands involuntarily moves to your hair, helping you keep the pace he wants. You don’t argue.

“Mind if I join?” Hook sounds smug.

Your eyes cut to Danhausen and he answers for the both of you, “Come on, come on,” He waves Hook over. You let out a low laugh, causing Danhausen to buck into the back of your throat again.

Hook’s hands rest on your waist and you feel him shift. You aren’t too worried about what he’s doing, all you can focus on is Danhausen and his needs. Then you feel it. Hook is pushing inside of you. You let out a loud moan, eyes rolling in the back of your head and your hands grip at Danhausen’s thighs.

Danhausen guides you back down his cock and gives you praise while you take him and Hook so well. You’re quick to pick up the pace that Hook has decided to take, both of you moving in sync, leaving all three of you moaning messes.

Hook is thrusting into you, while Danhausen thrusts into your throat, keeping a hand on your head to gently guide you.

Danhausen is the first to cum, his groans getting a little louder. You don’t pull away, taking all of him in when he does cum. Danhausen rubs a hand through your hair, sighing heavily as he praises you more. You pull your mouth away from Danhausen, but you’re still leaning over him as Hook continues his thrusts.

“Harder,” You moan out, “Fuck, please harder!”

Hook, without question, begins to thrust a little more fervently. The both of you getting close to the edge. The noises both of you are making become more animalistic, and Danhausen can’t help but tell you how good you two are doing.

As soon as you feel his hand run through your hair again you lose it. You orgasm, hard. You’re tensing, and your toes curl, and you let out a loud cry. Hook is soon to come after you, he’s leaning over you and grunting and growling in your ear.

“Fuck,” He mumbles, “You feel so good-”

You fall on top of Danhausen, and sprawl out on him. Hook pulls out and walks off for a moment. You look over and see him throwing away a condom. He makes his way back to the bed and forcibly scoots Danhausen over. You let out a small laugh and crawl up between the two of them.

“You two don’t want me to leave do you?” When they shake their heads, you sigh, getting comfortable, “Good, I didn’t want to.” You pause and remember what Hook had said earlier, “Would you two like to go to dinner tomorrow? As, uh, as a couple? Um… Throuple?”

Without hesitation, they both answer you.

“Yes.”

[unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin]

yandere hookhausen PLEASEEEE ❤️🙏

Being Hookhausen’s Darling

An: I love you tk, but it was low key homophobic that you split these two up😶

Taglist: @fiskers7136 @peachmango-kombucha @kcloveswrestling @bellalutionn @xkennyxomegax @tummyyellin @cuzimacomedian @auburnwrites @damnnhausen @thesusbunny @blaquekittycat @writtingrose

They both are very obsessive, but in different ways

Danhausen believes you want to be there

Hook knows you don’t

Hook would always take control of punishments because Dan could never go through with them

But Dan is always there to comfort you after a punishment

Because of that dynamic you would automatically find yourself closer to Dan than hook

They do generally trust each other, so they don’t really get jealous

Although Hook get frustrated at how clueless Dan can be when it comes to if you want to be there or not.

Someone is always with you, so chance of running is slim to none.

Dan still won’t kill even though Hook would.

But he won’t let hook kill in front of you

He doesn’t want his baby to see something like that. 

[queenlegacyproductions]

Here's a little bit of HOOK content since there's only crumbs of it (😭 everyday I fight for my life looking) coming soon. Inspired by @daddyhausen headcannons, thought were thunked and ideas were made.

Interact with this post if you want to be tagged.

[honeydippedfiction]

Turning Point

Chapter I of Revved Up To Fight

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Summary: After working the indies for several years, Y/N finally receives the biggest match of her career against one of the rising stars in pro wrestling. With her family by her side for support, Y/N feels unstoppable but questions always linger regarding her legacy.

WC: 9k

Warnings: pro wrestling, mentions of bruises, sibling teasing, not a whole lot.

Taglist

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

I leaned back against the weathered brick wall of the community center, the hum of an ancient vending machine buzzing in the background. My hands quivered—not with nerves, but with the aftershocks of adrenaline still surging through me. The crowd tonight had been small—maybe fifty people, if I was being generous—but their energy had filled the room. For those brief fifteen minutes in the ring, I had felt invincible, like the world belonged to me. 

This was the grind. Cheap motels, endless hours on the road, and wrestling in venues that always smelled faintly of sweat and popcorn. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was mine. For once, I wasn’t "Y/N, daughter of racing royalty." I wasn’t walking in anyone’s shadow. I was forging my own path, creating my own identity.

When I first started wrestling, I made a vow to myself—I wouldn’t rely on my family name. Not out of shame, but because I needed to prove something. I had to know I could do this on my own terms, without shortcuts. I chose a ring name that felt like a statement—a declaration of my determination. When I stepped through those ropes, I became someone else, someone who wasn’t afraid of failure, someone who fought tooth and nail for every cheer and chant.

The indie circuit was brutal. My debut match had been in a rundown high school gym, the kind with faded lines on the floor and bleachers that groaned under the weight of every spectator. The spotlight overhead flickered erratically, and the applause was sparse—nothing but a smattering of claps from a crowd that had no idea who I was. I didn’t just want to prove myself—I needed to. The pressure to succeed felt suffocating.

And then the match began.

It was rough. Both the match and the learning experience. My opponent was a seasoned veteran, the kind who didn’t go easy on rookies. Every slam, every strike, felt like a test. By the end of it, I was battered, bruised, and exhausted—but I was still standing. When the referee raised my opponent’s hand in victory, something unexpected happened. Applause. Not for the winner, but for me—the rookie who’d taken every hit and kept fighting. It was that moment, that moment of respect, that solidified my place in this world.

From there, it was a slow burn. Each match was a lesson: how to take a hit, how to sell a move, how to read the crowd. The physical toll was harsh—my body constantly ached, my knees felt like they belonged to someone twice my age, and there were mornings I could barely get out of bed without wincing. But it was the mental battle that often felt like the toughest. There were nights when the crowds were silent, when it felt like I was giving everything, and yet, getting nothing back. Those nights were the hardest. But each time doubt crept in, I reminded myself why I was doing this.

The indie scene, however, wasn’t just about the struggle. It was a family. A community of wrestlers, promoters, and fans bound together by this chaotic, unpredictable world. Some of the veterans took me under their wing, offering words of wisdom and encouragement. One of them told me after a particularly brutal match, “You’ve got something. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

And then there were the fans. They were the heart of the indie circuit. They didn’t care about my family background or my past; they cared about the fight in that ring. One night, after a show, a kid—maybe 10—approached me, holding a sign that said, “Furiosa Rules!” His eyes lit up when I signed it. That moment made every bruise, every mile, worth it.

There were a few matches that stand out in my memory, moments I’ll never forget.

One was a no-disqualification match against a veteran who had been on the circuit for over a decade. The match became a war zone—chairs, kendo sticks, even a table were all part of the carnage. At one point, I was slammed onto a pile of thumbtacks. The pain was excruciating, but I refused to stay down. When the match ended, the crowd stood, clapping in unison. I didn’t win that night, but I earned their respect.

Another match that sticks with me was a regional tournament, bringing together the best indie wrestlers in the area. Three matches, two nights, each more grueling than the last. In the final round, I faced a much more experienced opponent. I didn’t win, but afterward, the promoter pulled me aside and said, “You stole the show.” That compliment felt like a win in itself.

And then there was the tag team match. My partner was a grizzled veteran with a reputation for being tough to work with. But somehow, we clicked. The match was electric, and by the end, the crowd was chanting both our names. It was the first time I truly felt like I belonged.

Each match, each road trip, each late-night diner meal molded me into who I was becoming. I learned to appreciate the small victories: hitting a move I’d spent weeks perfecting, the camaraderie in the locker room, the way the crowd’s energy could lift me even when I was running on empty. 

Most importantly, I learned to trust myself. This journey was never about proving anything to my family or living up to expectations. It was about finding who I was and discovering what I was capable of. And every time I stepped into that ring, I found a little more of myself.

I didn’t know where this path would ultimately take me, but for the first time, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be. And for once, that was enough.

I collapsed onto the lumpy motel bed, the springs groaning beneath me. The dim, yellow glow from the bedside lamp cast long, skeletal shadows against the walls. I glanced at my reflection in the cracked mirror across the room, taking in the sight of my unruly locs, half-tied and falling loose, the frizzy strands framing my face. Sweat clung to my skin, pooling at the edges of the bruise blooming on my left cheekbone—a reminder of the brutal match just hours earlier. My limbs were covered in similar marks, the battle scars from my relentless grind in indie wrestling. 

The silence in the room was oppressive, amplifying the ache in my muscles. The air conditioning unit sputtered weakly in the corner, its hum doing little to ease the tension in the air. I lowered myself gingerly onto the edge of the bed, wincing as the springs creaked beneath my weight. Every inch of me throbbed, each bruise pulsing in time with my heartbeat. 

I glanced again at the cracked mirror above the dresser. The image staring back at me was far from glamorous, but it was undeniable—battered, bruised, yet resilient. My locs had unraveled into a tangled mess from the hurried bun I'd thrown together before the match. Sweat mixed with the remnants of eyeliner, leaving dark streaks beneath my eyes like war paint. The bruise on my cheekbone was a constant reminder of the pain I’d endured, each strike, each fall, pushing me closer to something bigger. 

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I ran a hand through my damp hair. This life wasn’t glamorous. The dingy motel rooms, the creaky beds, the endless string of matches in forgotten corners of the country—it was a far cry from the bright lights and roaring crowds I had once dreamed of. But it was mine. Wrestling wasn’t just a job. It was a calling, a sanctuary, a purpose that filled every part of me. 

I reached for my phone, wincing as the frayed charging cord snagged free from its precarious position. The screen lit up with a missed call notification—an unfamiliar number. Probably a promoter, I thought, shaking off the exhaustion weighing me down as I swiped to return the call. 

The line clicked to life after two rings. "Y/N, it’s Mike Peterson from Chicago Pro Wrestling," came a gruff voice, familiar and reassuring. 

"Hey, Mike!" I answered, trying to muster more energy than I felt. "What’s up?" 

He didn’t waste time. "Got a big opportunity for you," he said, his voice steady. "We’re putting on a pre-AEW event leading up to Dynasty. It’s Thursday, April 18th. You’d be in one of the main matches, going up against Skye Blue." 

Skye Blue. The name hit me like a freight train. She was a rising star in AEW, a fan favorite from Chicago. This wasn’t just another match; this was the match that could change everything for me. 

"Are you serious?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly, betraying the excitement bubbling up inside me.

"Dead serious," Mike replied, almost as if he anticipated my reaction. "You’ve been killing it on the circuit, and we think you’re ready for this spotlight. It’ll set the tone for the weekend. You in?"

For a brief moment, I forgot about the bruises, the exhaustion, the stale air of the motel room. I clenched my fist, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. "I’m in," I said, the words flowing out with the force of a promise. 

"Good. We’ll finalize everything tomorrow. Rest up, kid," Mike said before the line went dead. 

I sat there in the silence of the room, the weight of the opportunity crashing over me in waves. This was it—the break I’d been waiting for, the one I’d been fighting for, the one that had kept me pushing through the pain. 

Without thinking, I opened my phone and dialed up FaceTime. There were two people who needed to hear this first—the ones who’d seen every step of my journey, who’d understood the sacrifices. My parents. 

The screen blinked to life, and my heart skipped a beat as the first ring echoed in my ear. It was late—really late—in Monaco, but I couldn’t wait. Not for this. 

By the second ring, my mom’s face appeared, her warm smile soothing the nerves twisting in my stomach. Her perfectly styled locs cascaded over her shoulders, and she adjusted her glasses, peering at me with concern. "Y/N?" she asked softly, her voice carrying the gentleness of a mother. "What time is it over there?"

"Late," I replied, swallowing hard. My fingers tightened around the phone as I steadied my breath. "But I needed to tell you something. It couldn’t wait."

From off-screen, I heard my dad’s deep voice rumble, protective and familiar. "Is everything okay?"

"More than okay," I said, and this time, I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face—a real smile, the kind that reached my eyes. "First off, congrats to Sterling on his win in Japan. Tell him I’m proud of him."

Mom laughed, the sound rich and musical, and I could see the pride in her eyes as she shook her head. "He’s impossible right now," she teased. "Red Bull’s golden boy is feeling himself, as usual."

"As he should," I agreed with a laugh of my own. "He earned it. But this isn’t about Sterling." My words caught in my throat for a moment. The weight of what I was about to share was heavy, but I pushed through. 

Mom leaned closer, sensing the shift in my tone. "What’s going on, baby?" Her concern was palpable. 

I took a deep breath and steadied myself. "I’ve got a match this Thursday. A big one. I’m going up against Skye Blue in Chicago. It’s the main event at the indie show before AEW’s Dynasty in St. Louis." I paused, letting the words settle before continuing. "I want you all to come. Salome, too. And Sterling, if he can make it."

Her face lit up instantly, and I could see the pride in her eyes before she even spoke. "Oh, baby, we wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Just then, my dad appeared beside her, his usually stoic face softer than I’d ever seen it. His dark eyes met mine, and he nodded slowly, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re really doing it, Y/N. You’ve made your own way, and we couldn’t be prouder of you."

A lump rose in my throat, and I couldn’t blink the tears away fast enough. They slipped down my cheeks, warm and unstoppable. "I wouldn’t be here without you guys," I said, my voice trembling. "Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve accomplished—it’s because of you. Your support. Your sacrifices."

Mom’s hand hovered just out of reach of the screen, as if she could physically comfort me across the distance. "We’ve always believed in you, sweetheart," she said, her voice gentle. "And we always will."

Dad’s steady voice broke through, grounding me like it always did. "We’ll be there, Y/N. All of us. And when you step into that ring, we’ll be the loudest ones cheering." 

The lump in my throat grew, but I nodded, locking eyes with both of them through the screen. For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. This wasn’t just my journey—it was ours. 

As the call ended and the screen went dark, I sat there in the quiet, the tears still drying on my cheeks. My family believed in me, and for the first time, I could see the end of this long road ahead of me. 

Thursday wasn’t just another match. It was my moment. And with them by my side, I was ready for it.

—-

The shrill chime of my phone sliced through the stillness of the room, yanking me out of a restless sleep. Groaning, I fumbled around for it, my hand grazing the nightstand until it finally closed around the cool glass of my phone. Squinting at the screen, I groaned again. Sterling.

I swiped to answer, already bracing myself to give him an earful. But before I could even speak, his grin filled the screen. His hair, as perfect as always, bounced slightly under his Red Bull-branded hoodie. He looked like he'd just stepped out of an F1 commercial, effortlessly stylish, but there was something in the background that caught my attention.

"Sterling," I said, sitting up so fast the covers fell around my waist. "Why does it look like you're on a plane? I thought you were supposed to be in China."

He leaned back, completely at ease in what was unmistakably a private jet, the kind of luxurious leather seat only reserved for the very wealthy. Behind him, sleek cabinets and soft lighting made it look like something out of a travel magazine. He looked so comfortable that if it weren't for the time difference, I'd have sworn this was just his normal day.

"I told the team I’d pay the fine," he replied with a casual shrug, a grin stretching across his face. "There’s no way I’m missing my little sister’s biggest match."

I blinked, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. My sleepiness evaporated, replaced by disbelief and a simmering frustration. "You’re supposed to be prepping for the Grand Prix, Sterling! Media day’s tomorrow! Do you realize how insane this is? What if the team finds out?"

"They already know," he said, unfazed, as if missing a major media event for his sister’s match was the most natural thing in the world. "Christian wasn’t thrilled, but he’ll live. And trust me, they’ll fine me enough to make their point." He waved dismissively, as if money were no object—which, for Sterling, was probably true.

I shook my head, trying to process the enormity of what he was doing. "You’re really doing this? Leaving everything—"

"For you," he interrupted, his tone firm, his eyes locking onto mine with a look of complete sincerity. "Y/N, this isn’t just any match. This is your main event. You've worked your ass off for this. If I can’t be there for you now, what kind of brother am I?"

My throat tightened, and I gripped the phone like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. "You're insane," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

"Maybe," he chuckled lightly, his grin softening into something more genuine. "But family comes first. Always." His expression turned serious as he leaned closer to the camera. "You’re going to walk into that ring and show the world what you’re made of. And I’ll be right there cheering you on. I’ll land in Chicago tomorrow morning, and no matter how tired I am, I’ll be at that arena."

I tried to respond, but the words caught in my throat. All I could do was nod, my eyes filling with tears as I blinked them away. 

"Get some sleep," Sterling said, his voice softer now. "You’ve got a big day ahead, and I expect you to wipe the floor with Skye Blue."

The call ended before I could say anything more, and the screen faded to black. I sat there in silence, staring at the phone in my hands. Sterling didn’t have to do this. He could have sent a quick text or a brief FaceTime before his preparations. But he wasn’t just sending well wishes from a distance. He was crossing oceans, defying his team, risking fines—all to be there for me. 

Suddenly, the ache in my legs and the bruises on my arms didn’t seem as heavy. The grueling hours of training, the sacrifice, the sleepless nights—all of it felt worth it. I wasn’t alone in this fight. When I stepped into the ring on Thursday, it wouldn’t just be my battle. It would be ours.

I sat on the edge of the bed long after the call ended, the soft glow of the phone still lighting the room. Sterling’s words echoed in my mind, grounding me: Family comes first. Always. I wiped away the last of the tears, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, a small smile tugged at my lips. 

This was it. My moment.

My eyes drifted to the half-packed suitcase in the corner of my room. I’d started packing earlier but had stalled, the weight of the upcoming match making it difficult to focus. But now, with Sterling putting everything on the line to be there for me, there was no room for self-doubt. 

I stood and crossed to the suitcase with a renewed sense of purpose, grabbing the first item that I knew I couldn’t leave behind: my ring gear. The black and gold outfit had become my signature, and I ran my fingers over the fabric, checking for loose threads, before carefully folding it and tucking it into the bag. Next, I packed my boots—well-worn but polished, their soles bearing the imprint of countless matches.

As I packed, my mind wandered to the upcoming fight. Skye Blue was no joke—quick, clever, with a natural ability to turn the crowd in her favor. But the thought of facing her didn’t make me nervous. It fueled me. I knew her strengths, her weaknesses. And I was ready. I’d earned my spot in that ring.

The last thing I packed was a framed photo of my family—me, Mom, Dad, Sterling, and Salome, all grinning like fools after one of Sterling’s early wins. I slipped it into a side pocket of the bag and zipped it up carefully, sealing it shut. 

By the time I finished, the first light of dawn was creeping through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. My flight wasn’t until later that morning, but sleep was a distant memory. Instead, I double-checked my bag, grabbed my carry-on, and headed out the door.

This wasn’t just another match. This was my moment. And with Sterling’s promise echoing in my heart, I was ready to make it count.

—

The flight to Chicago was smooth, a gentle hum of the plane's engines filling the quiet cabin. But for me, the hours felt stretched, each minute creeping by as my nerves twisted in slow, relentless circles. The weight of the moment sat heavy on my chest, and no amount of distraction could ease it. I slipped my headphones in, drowning out the background chatter of the other passengers, and opened my phone to scroll through match footage. I watched Skye Blue’s recent matches, studying every move, every counter, every moment where she’d turned a match in her favor. I took notes, my fingers tapping furiously against the screen, but the words felt like static in my mind. My thoughts were elsewhere, on the magnitude of what I was about to face.  

When the plane finally began its descent, my body tensed, the familiar rumble of the wheels hitting the tarmac offering some sense of relief. We had arrived. But it wasn’t until I stepped off the plane and into the crisp Chicago air that the full weight of it all hit me. The skyline loomed ahead, towering and imposing, and for a moment, I felt small against the backdrop of this giant city. This wasn’t just another stop on my circuit. This wasn’t just another match. Chicago—this city—was a proving ground. A chance to show the world, once and for all, that I belonged on the big stage. That I wasn’t just a fighter. I was a force to be reckoned with.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the cool air, and squared my shoulders. The nerves were still there, but they were becoming something else—something sharper. This was my moment.

Outside the airport, a car from the promotion was waiting for me. The driver, an older man with silver hair and a permanent twinkle in his eye, greeted me with a warm, “Welcome to Chicago!” His name was Joe, and he was as cheerful as they come. He helped load my bags into the trunk with the kind of quiet efficiency that only comes with years of experience. As the car pulled away from the airport, the city unfolded before me. Skyscrapers reached up like steel giants, their glass windows reflecting the pale afternoon sky. The streets below were a blur of movement—taxis rushing by, pedestrians weaving through the crowds, the distant hum of life that only a city like Chicago could sustain. 

I let my eyes drift over the scenes outside the window, taking it all in. The energy here was palpable, the kind of electric pulse that ran through the heart of the city. It was chaotic, yes, but there was a rhythm to it, a beat that I could feel in my bones. I could almost hear the crowd, feel the roar of the fans as they’d welcome me into that arena. This was the kind of place where dreams could be made—or shattered. And I was determined to make mine.

The hotel was a modest one, tucked away on a quieter street away from the hustle and bustle. Nothing fancy, but it had what I needed: a bed, a shower, and most importantly, silence. I checked in quickly, the front desk attendant giving me a polite smile as she handed over my room key. The elevator ride up to my floor felt longer than it should have. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, each thud a reminder of what was coming. The hotel room itself was simple—nothing extravagant, but comfortable. The bed, though, looked like heaven. The soft, inviting sheets promised a moment of rest that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take. But first, I forced myself to unpack.

I opened my suitcase, taking a moment to arrange everything just so. My ring gear, my boots, my toiletries—all of it went neatly into its place. My phone buzzed on the bed next to me, a text from Sterling flashing on the screen: “Make sure you rest up. Big day tomorrow!” 

I smiled, a wave of warmth spreading through me at the thought of my brother. He was already on his way to Chicago, despite all the commitments he had back home. He was the reason I could believe, for a brief moment, that this was all possible. Family always came first.

Once everything was unpacked, I sank onto the bed, the soft mattress cradling me like a cloud. I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing the exhaustion of the past few days to catch up with me. The muscles in my body, worn from travel and the previous night’s restless sleep, finally began to relax. But my mind wouldn’t shut off. 

Tomorrow was the day. 

I let out a breath and grabbed my phone again, scrolling through some more footage of Skye Blue’s matches. I couldn’t afford to stop now. I had studied her before, but I needed to be ready for every possible move. Every counter. Every advantage I could use to gain the upper hand. As I watched, I jotted down a few more notes. There were small things—subtle moves, things she liked to do when the match was starting to turn in her favor. But there was one thing I hadn’t considered. The crowd. I needed to think about the crowd. The way they reacted to her. They were as much a part of the match as anything else. 

I set my phone down and stretched my arms above my head, trying to shake the tension that had taken residence in my shoulders. Tomorrow, everything would change. I would step into that ring with Skye, and it wouldn’t just be about proving myself to her. It would be about proving myself to everyone who’d ever doubted me. The journey I’d taken—every grueling training session, every early morning, every match that had left me bruised and sore—would culminate in that one moment. The spotlight would be on me, and I wasn’t about to let it pass by without showing the world who I was. 

The quiet of the room settled around me again, and this time, instead of feeling the weight of the moment, I felt a calm determination settle in my chest. Tomorrow, I would rise to the occasion. It was no longer about the fear of the unknown. It was about seizing what was mine. 

I finally allowed myself to close my eyes, the exhaustion taking over. But even as I drifted off to sleep, I could feel the anticipation building in my gut, the promise of tomorrow hanging in the air, just beyond the reach of my dreams.

—

The next morning, I woke to the soft chime of my alarm, its gentle sound cutting through the stillness of the room. The golden light of the Chicago sunrise was already filtering through the curtains, casting long, warm beams across the floor. I blinked away the remnants of sleep, my heart thudding with anticipation. Today was the day. The day I’d step closer to my dream. The day I’d meet Mike, the AEW promoter, to go over every detail of the match that would define the next chapter of my career.

I swung my legs off the bed, feeling the cool air of the room against my skin. The quiet hum of the city outside was a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts in my mind. I stood in front of the mirror, letting the reality of it all sink in. I wasn’t just getting ready for a match; I was preparing for something bigger—something that would change everything. 

I dressed quickly, my mind still racing, but my hands moving with purpose. I chose black jeans and a fitted white tee, pairing it with my favorite leather jacket. It was a simple outfit, but it made me feel powerful—polished, yet grounded. Confidence wasn’t just about how I felt, it was also about how I presented myself. I wanted Mike to see someone who was ready for this moment, who wasn’t just there to fight, but to own the ring. 

After a quick breakfast, I grabbed my things and headed out. The hotel lobby was quiet, the early morning stillness lingering as I stepped into the car that would take me to the venue. The driver weaved through the streets of Chicago, the towering buildings casting long shadows on the streets below. The city was alive, even at this hour, the energy unmistakable. As we neared the arena, the size of the venue hit me like a punch to the gut. It loomed ahead, massive and imposing, like a cathedral built for competition. This wasn’t just any building—it was the arena where my future would unfold. The place where I would prove myself to the world.

The car pulled up to the entrance, and I stepped out, my heart racing in my chest. I could already feel the pulse of the crowd in my veins, the roar of the fans, the rush of adrenaline that would come with every single step I took in that ring. But today wasn’t about the fans or the fight—it was about laying the groundwork for everything to come.

Mike was waiting for me just inside the venue, clipboard in hand, his posture as straight as an arrow. His face was all business—no-nonsense, sharp focus. But when he saw me, his features softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was the first sign of warmth I’d seen from him, and it put me at ease.

"Y/N," he said, stepping forward and extending a hand. "Welcome to Chicago. Let’s make this one for the books." His voice had that confident, assured tone of someone who knew what they were talking about. It was impossible not to feel a flicker of excitement at his words.

I shook his hand firmly, matching his smile. "Let’s do it," I replied, my voice steady, even though my nerves buzzed beneath the surface. This was the moment I’d worked for, and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me.

We made our way to the small conference room just off the main floor of the arena, the sounds of distant construction and the hum of preparations for the night’s event seeping in through the walls. As we sat down, Mike began to go over the details of the match—timing, structure, key moments, and everything in between. His words were methodical, precise, but I found myself zoning in on one thing: the arena. The energy in the building, even in the stillness of the morning, seemed to vibrate in my bones. It wasn’t just the technical aspects of the match that I had to prepare for—it was the atmosphere, the roar of the crowd, the spotlight that would be shining directly on me.

As Mike continued, I let myself visualize the moment. The lights dimming, the crowd growing louder, the first step I’d take as I made my way to the ring. My heart beat faster, but it wasn’t from nerves this time—it was from anticipation. This was what I’d dreamed of, what I’d worked so hard for. And now, it was within my reach.

Mike paused, his eyes locking with mine. "You ready for this?" he asked, his voice laced with a quiet challenge, as though he was testing me.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the question settle on me. This was my time. There was no backing down now. "Absolutely," I replied, my voice strong and certain. "I’ve trained my whole life for this. I’m ready."

A small nod of approval crossed his face, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of respect in his eyes. We weren’t just talking business anymore—we were talking about something bigger than that. Something that transcended the usual talk of wins and losses. This was about legacy.

The rest of our meeting went by in a blur. Mike laid out the finer points of the match, but my mind kept drifting back to the arena. The sound of the crowd, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and the feeling of standing in that ring. It was all so close now, so real. I could almost taste it.

By the time the meeting wrapped up, the sun had risen fully, the light pouring in through the windows of the conference room. I shook Mike’s hand once more, a firm, assured grip. "Thanks for everything," I said, feeling the weight of the day starting to settle in. It wasn’t just a match—it was a career-defining moment.

As I walked out of the conference room, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down to see a message from Sterling: “How’s it going? You’re gonna crush it. I’m already on my way.”

A grin tugged at my lips as I typed a quick reply: “Thanks, bro. Can’t wait to see you tonight.”

The energy in the arena was starting to shift, the crew hustling to get everything ready for the night ahead. I could feel it in the air, like a current just beneath the surface, waiting to explode. I stepped outside, the cool breeze hitting my face, and took a moment to just breathe it all in. The city, the venue, the fight—it was all happening. And it was happening now.

I wasn’t just here to compete. I was here to make a name for myself.

And with Sterling by my side, I knew I was ready to take on whatever came next.

—

After the meeting with Mike, I made my way back to the hotel, my thoughts swirling with everything we’d discussed. The weight of the match was starting to press down on me, and I knew I needed to shake off the nerves that were beginning to settle in. I couldn’t afford to let doubt take root, not now, not with everything at stake. 

I stepped into my room and changed quickly, slipping into my workout gear—a simple black tank top and leggings. The familiar comfort of my sneakers felt grounding, and I tied them with a focused determination. As my fingers pulled the laces tight, a familiar sensation gripped me. The pre-match jitters were starting to creep in, tightening my chest like an over-wound clock, the anticipation of what was to come making it hard to breathe. But I knew exactly how to handle it. Movement has always been my best weapon against nerves. It steadied me, helped me regain control.

The hotel gym was small, tucked away at the end of a quiet hallway, but it was functional, with polished floors that gleamed under the bright lights. A wall of mirrors stretched along one side, reflecting the faint hum of treadmills and elliptical machines. A few early risers were scattered about, mostly business types in stiff shorts and branded shirts, their focus more on their phones than their form. The gym was quiet, almost serene, except for the low sound of the machines and the occasional clink of weights.

I claimed a treadmill near the back, positioning myself where I could see the faint reflection of myself in the mirror. Slipping on my headphones, I cranked up the volume, letting the music fill my ears and drown out the buzzing of my thoughts. I needed to block everything out—everything except the rhythm of my body moving, the steady pulse of the beat in my chest.

As my feet began to hit the treadmill with a steady cadence, the tension in my muscles started to unwind. The first few minutes were always the hardest, the nerves still clinging to my limbs. But then, as the music thumped and the world outside the gym seemed to fade away, my body fell into a rhythm. Each step was like a reminder, a mantra of all the hours I’d spent training, all the sacrifices I’d made to get here. Thirty minutes in, sweat was dripping from my brow, my breathing steady but purposeful. I pushed harder, letting the pounding bass of the music carry me forward, imagining the ring, the lights, the crowd. I saw the faces of my family and Sterling cheering me on, felt the energy of the crowd rising with each movement. The intensity built, not just in my legs but in my mind. 

I could do this. 

After cardio, I transitioned to the weights section, grabbing a barbell and carefully loading it with plates. I positioned myself on the mat, my focus now zeroed in on the routine I’d done a thousand times. The first lift of the deadlifts was always the hardest, the weight challenging my muscles, but I welcomed it. The burn was a sign of progress. It was a reminder that the hard work had paid off. Each movement was precise, each rep a step closer to what I needed to be. My muscles screamed in protest with each lift—squats, deadlifts, bench presses—but I pushed through, moving with the kind of relentless focus that had become second nature. My body had been forged in the fire of practice, and this was just another moment of testing it.

By the time I finished, the sweat was pouring down my face, my limbs feeling heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction. My muscles hummed with the good kind of pain, the kind that meant I’d pushed myself to the edge. I wiped down the equipment, my hands slick with sweat, and grabbed my water bottle. I tilted my head back, taking a long, satisfying sip, the cool liquid easing the dry burn in my throat.

The nerves were still there, lingering like an electric buzz just beneath the surface, but now they were different. More manageable. Less daunting. I could feel the storm on the horizon, but it didn’t scare me anymore. It was a storm and I knew how to handle the weather. It was the same kind of storm I’d faced in the ring, the same kind of tension that had once paralyzed me but now pushed me forward. 

I walked out of the gym, my body humming with exhaustion, but my mind clearer than it had been all morning. The path was set. Tonight, the match would come, and I would be ready. No matter what, I was prepared to face it. With every stride I took back to my room, I knew I was one step closer to what I’d come here for. And nothing, not even my nerves, was going to stand in my way.

—

The arena felt different when I returned. The vibrant buzz of activity earlier in the day had faded into a quiet stillness, replaced only by the distant clatter of equipment being moved and the occasional echo of footsteps reverberating off the concrete. The ring at the center remained unchanged—its ropes taut and unyielding, the canvas pristine and untouched. It stood there like a silent sentinel, waiting. And I couldn’t help but feel the weight of it—the place where everything I had worked for would come to fruition. Tomorrow, this ring would be my battleground.

But as I walked through the entrance, expecting the usual calm before the storm, I froze in my tracks. I didn’t expect to see her there.

Skye Blue stood in the center of the ring, her dark hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail. She wore her workout gear already—black leggings and a tight-fitting tank top, the kind of gear that suggested she had been there for a while. Her posture was casual, her arms folded loosely across her chest, but her eyes—bright, alert—were scanning the space, studying every inch of the arena. She was in full prep mode, visualizing tomorrow’s match, no doubt. And I found myself drawn to her focus, the way she moved with purpose despite the relaxed outward appearance.

She spotted me before I had a chance to approach, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "You must be Y/N," she said, pushing herself off the ropes with a fluid, almost effortless motion, and walked toward me with the kind of easy confidence that only comes with experience.

"That’s me," I replied, offering a smile in return. Up close, I realized she looked younger than I had expected, but there was something in the way she carried herself—a quiet maturity, a calm self-assurance—that made her presence undeniable.

"Mike told me you’d be here," she continued, her voice casual but with an underlying edge. "Figured I’d stick around and see what you’re about." Her arms crossed over her chest as she tilted her head slightly, studying me in return.

"Just seeing, or were you thinking something more hands-on?" I raised an eyebrow, the challenge instinctively rising within me.

Her grin widened, mischief flickering in her eyes. "Hands-on. A little sparring, nothing crazy. Just enough to get a feel for each other’s style. You game?"

I considered her for a moment, taking in the calm confidence she exuded. There was no hesitation. "Let’s do it."

We climbed into the ring, the ropes creaking under our combined weight as we positioned ourselves. As I faced her, I couldn’t help but observe how she moved—balanced, fluid, the way her weight shifted easily from foot to foot. Every step was measured, every motion deliberate. She had the poise of someone who knew exactly where they stood.

The sparring started light, almost like a dance. Skye came at me with a speed that caught me off guard at first. Her movements were sharp, quick jabs and feints that kept me on my toes. I countered with strength, grounding myself and using my power to push her back, though I knew this wasn’t about winning. It wasn’t about overpowering her. It was about learning—about finding that elusive rhythm that would define tomorrow’s match. We were both testing the waters, each move a way to feel out the other.

Minutes stretched on as we moved through a series of strikes and counters, pushing ourselves but never too far. After about fifteen minutes, we both paused, catching our breath. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, feeling the sting of exhaustion in my muscles, but also a growing sense of clarity. This was what I needed—this kind of challenge, this kind of focus. 

Skye leaned against the ropes, her chest heaving as she wiped the sweat from her brow. "You’re strong," she said, her tone more appreciative than competitive. There was a respect in her voice that I hadn’t expected, and it took me off guard.

"And you’re fast," I replied, grabbing my water bottle from the corner of the ring and taking a long drink. My throat was dry, but I could feel my heart rate slowing as the cool water settled in.

She chuckled, a sound that was equal parts mischievous and impressed. "Looks like we’re going to give them a hell of a show tomorrow."

The words hung in the air for a moment, and I found myself smiling, the tension that had been weighing me down lightening just a little. There was no animosity between us—just two people preparing for the same thing. I was beginning to feel that camaraderie, even if we were technically competitors. 

We sat down on the edge of the ring, the ropes pressing into our backs as we cooled off, our legs dangling over the side. We talked then, swapping stories about our journeys. Skye shared her early days in wrestling—the grueling, exhausting training, the long hours in small venues where the crowds were sparse but the passion was fierce. I listened intently, feeling the parallels between her experiences and my own. We had both worked hard to get here, and the weight of that shared struggle made the conversation feel more real, more genuine. 

I opened up too, telling her about my own journey—about the sacrifices I’d made, the sleepless nights, the moments of doubt. But also, the moments of triumph, when everything came together, when I felt unstoppable. 

After a while, Skye glanced over at me with a small, knowing smile. "Hey," she said, her voice softer now. "A few of us are grabbing food tonight, just to unwind before the big match. You should come. It’s good to relax, you know? Just… take your mind off everything for a bit."

I hesitated for a moment, the weight of the match still heavy on my mind. It would be easy to stay cooped up in my room, running over every detail of the match in my head. But the thought of unwinding for a little while—of not thinking about the pressure, the expectations—was tempting. 

"Sure," I said after a beat, nodding. "I could use a break." 

As we made our way out of the arena together, I felt a shift—like the tension had eased just a little bit. Tomorrow, everything will be different. But for tonight, it was nice to know that, no matter what happened in that ring, I wasn’t doing this alone.

—

Later that afternoon, I drove to the airport to pick up my family, the quiet hum of the SUV’s engine offering a temporary respite from the rush of adrenaline coursing through me. The terminal was buzzing with activity when I arrived, the usual chaos of travelers navigating the maze of gates, dragging rolling suitcases behind them, and muttering into their phones as they hurried toward their destinations. Amidst the cacophony, I felt my heart skip a beat when I spotted them in the crowd. 

Salome was the first to spot me, her face lighting up like the sun breaking through clouds. She broke into a run, her arms wide, and before I could say anything, she collided into me, her excitement palpable as she squealed, "Y/N!"

I laughed, a mix of joy and relief flooding through me as I returned her hug, holding her tightly. When we pulled back, I took a moment to study her, seeing the girl I’d left behind just a few months ago transformed. She was taller than I remembered, her wild curls bouncing with every movement, and her eyes were sparkling with the kind of excitement only a college student could possess. "Look at you," I said, grinning. "College is treating you well."

"Sterling cheated at Uno again," she said, her lips pouting dramatically.

Before I could respond, I heard a familiar voice from behind. "Sometimes you need to cheat to win," Sterling’s voice called out with that trademark nonchalance of his. He sauntered toward us, effortlessly cool, wearing his Red Bull hoodie like a second skin. His curls bounced with every step, and there was the usual quiet confidence in his stride.

I rolled my eyes but pulled him into a hug, smiling as I whispered, "Sterling, thanks for coming."

"You think I’d miss this?" he responded, his voice soft but carrying the weight of a promise. His eyes were filled with the same conviction I’d always known.

And then I saw them—my parents, walking side by side with the same grace and effortless cool they’d always had. My dad, Derrius, still exudes that MotoGP legend swagger, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd with ease. His salt-and-pepper locs were tied back in a low ponytail, and his sharp, ever-watchful eyes scanned the bustling terminal until they landed on me.

My mom, Xolani, wasn’t far behind. Her locs were longer now, perfectly styled to frame her radiant face, and her warm smile immediately washed over me like a wave, making me feel like I was still a little girl in her arms. 

"Baby girl," my dad’s rich baritone voice rang out as he stepped forward, pulling me into a hug that felt like home.

"Hi, Daddy," I murmured into his chest, holding on a little tighter than usual.

When my mom stepped forward next, her embrace was soft but no less comforting. "Y/N, you look amazing," she said, pulling back to study me, her gaze filled with quiet pride.

"Thanks, Mama," I replied, feeling a familiar swell of pride in my chest. It wasn’t just the match or the nerves—it was the comfort of being surrounded by the people who had always had my back.

The five of us piled into the SUV I’d rented, and the car came alive with chatter and laughter. Salome recounted stories from her college life, diving into tales of dance rehearsals, late-night study sessions, and the chaos of dorm life. Sterling added his own spin, sharing anecdotes about the rivalries and drama in the paddock, how his engineers were convinced he was too reckless on track, a claim that always seemed to amuse him.

"Too reckless?" my dad said, twisting in his seat to look at Sterling, his voice booming with that competitive edge. "Kid, you’ve got nothing on me back in my day."

Sterling smirked. "Maybe. But I’m racking up podiums, old man."

My mom rolled her eyes, reaching over to swat my dad playfully on the arm. "Don’t encourage him, Derrius."

I chuckled, my heart full as the familiar banter flowed effortlessly between us. It was moments like this that reminded me why I’d fought so hard to be where I was—to make them proud.

We chose a cozy, family-owned restaurant a few miles from the airport, and as we walked in, the warm smells of grilled meats and rich spices immediately made my stomach growl in appreciation. We were seated at a large booth by the window, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a warm light over our table.

The conversation soon turned to my match, and my dad was the first to ask the question that had been on his mind.

"Tell us about Skye," he said, leaning back in his chair, his hands resting casually on the table. He had that air of a seasoned competitor, the kind that came from years of analyzing opponents before a big race. 

"She’s fast," I said, swirling my water glass idly as I considered my words. "Her movements are fluid, and she’s got a real knack for counters. But I think I’ve got the strength advantage."

My mom’s gaze never wavered as she studied me. "Strength’s important, but don’t underestimate her speed," she said thoughtfully, her voice carrying the wisdom of years spent watching me train. "It only takes one misstep to lose momentum."

"She’s right," Sterling chimed in, his voice calm but encouraging. "But I’ve seen you fight, Y/N. You’ve got the instincts to handle her."

Salome leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands with a gleam in her eyes. "Can we talk about how cool it is that my sister’s the main event in Chicago? Like, I’m telling everyone back at school. You’re going to kill it."

Her enthusiasm made me laugh, and I reached out to squeeze her hand. "Thanks, Sal. That means a lot."

When the food finally arrived, the table grew quiet except for the sound of clinking utensils and the occasional hum of appreciation. As we dug into our meals, my dad launched into another of his legendary stories about his glory days in MotoGP. He recounted last-lap battles and hairpin turns with such vivid detail that even my mom, who had heard the stories a thousand times, couldn't help but roll her eyes and mutter something about how he’d aged her prematurely.

"You were reckless," she said, pointing her fork at him with a teasing smile. "You’re lucky I didn’t leave you after that crash in '99."

"And miss all this?" he replied, gesturing to the table with a wide grin.

Laughter filled the space, rich and full, and for a moment, everything felt exactly right. Here, in this moment, I wasn’t just the wrestler; I was their daughter, their sister, and their support. We had each other, no matter what.

The meal was winding down when Sterling pulled out his phone, ever the social media aficionado. 

"Alright, family photo time," he announced, scooting closer to Salome and draping an arm around her shoulders.

"Derrius, smile," my mom said, nudging my dad.

"I’m always smiling," he said with a sly grin, his eyes twinkling as he gave in.

Sterling held up his phone, angling it expertly. "Okay, everyone ready? Three… two… one." The flash went off, capturing all of us mid-laughter.

Sterling inspected the photo, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Perfect. This is going on the ‘Gram," he said, clearly proud of the shot.

He spent a moment editing before showing me the final post. It was a candid, warm shot—Sterling in the center, flanked by my parents, with Salome and me on either side. The caption read: "Family time before the big day 🖤" with tags for all of us, including my personal account.

"You’re tagging me?" I asked, surprised by the gesture.

"Why not? You’re the star tomorrow, Y/N," he said, his grin playful. "Let the world know."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped my lips. "Thanks, I guess."

By the time we left the restaurant, my phone was buzzing with notifications—likes, comments, and new follower requests. I glanced down at my screen, my eyebrows raising as I saw the names that were popping up among the new followers: Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, and Oscar Piastri.

"What the…?" I muttered, scrolling through the notifications in disbelief.

Salome leaned over to peek at my phone. "Wait, are those F1 drivers? Sterling, what did you do?"

Sterling smirked, unbothered as he slid into the driver’s seat of the SUV. "Just spreading the love, little sis. You’re trending now."

"You could’ve warned me!" I shot back, though I couldn’t hold back a laugh.

By the time we reached the hotel, speculation about my match was already running rampant online. Fans and gossip accounts were buzzing with theories about my relationship with the F1 drivers, and I could only shake my head at the chaos.

"Better get some rest," I muttered to myself, setting my phone aside as I climbed into bed. But as I lay there, a sense of anticipation stirred deep in my chest. Tomorrow, the world would see exactly who Y/N was—and why I was worth every ounce of this attention.

Tomorrow, I’d step into that ring not just for myself, but for them—for the family who had always supported me, and for the legacy of strength and resilience they had built. I wouldn’t let them down.

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: ----

[alexablissmark]

detention (part 1) [hook x female reader]

you get a detention and your least favorite person decides to join you. female reader.

warnings: angst, bullying, gossip, middle school trauma, shootings, manipulation, nudes, swearing, suicide, intimidation, bad puns, revoked privilege

this is slightly based on personal experiences and my own schools stupid attendance policy ♡

For the third time this week, you left the house too late. For the second time this week, your car wouldn't start. And for the first time this week, you received a detention.

What a stupid policy.

You'd think school would be the one place where being late is forgiven. People would be kind and empathetic towards you and understand that there are millions of factors going into being in class before 8AM, most of which are out of your control. Right?

Wrong.

Well, surely you'd only have to make up the five minutes of class that'd you have missed? It's not a big deal.

Also, wrong.

Fifty minutes for every tardy after the two "freebies" as they had called it. So there you were, sitting in detention. Detention started at 3:35. If you were late, they sent you home, and you had to serve a second one. You made sure you were there by 3:33, at the latest. There were a few people already there. You sat a table by yourself. Two to a table, please. There came in a few more kids after you. It was a busy day for detention.

"Julia?" The teacher, Mr. Regal, called.

"Here," she said.

"Brittany?"

"Here,"

"Adam?"

"Here,"

"Max?"

"Here,"

"Tyler?"

"Here,"

"Y/N?"

"Here,"

That's when you stopped listening to roll-call.

The aforementioned Tyler sat next to you. Not because he wanted to, but because it was the last open seat available, and he walked in last. Tyler was basically the embodiment of everything a dad wanted his son to be. Young, handsome, athletic, seemingly well-mannered. But to you, he was everything but well-mannered. He was nothing except a cold-hearted devil.

Even though you've been going to the same school your entire life, it'd been hard to make friends. The closed off community you had been forced to surround yourself with was filled with nothing but elitists.

(a/n: see what i did there? imso funny hahaha please laugh)

Your first run-in with Tyler was in first grade. He sat at your table. He took scissors to your hair. When the teacher came over, it looked like you were the one who did it. He never said sorry and was mean to you for the rest of the year. You got your scissor privileges taken away. His friends joined in on teasing you sometime during second grade.

After fourth grade, they stopped being mean to you in your face and spread rumors instead. It earned you a visit to the principals office with police officers waiting for you. A list had been found by a "concerned student" and was brought to the schools attention. The student said he believed it to be you. Except, the handwriting looked nothing like yours. It was messy and gross. Kindergartener-like. You thanked Ms. Aubrey for bringing it up during your visit. You were let go.

Eventually, the teasing and school shooter rumors turned into notes in lockers. Notes with lines of daring you to kill yourself and condemning you to hell. You never reported them. You didn't bother. You had other things to worry about, anyway. Better things, like the spelling bee. You won the spelling bee in 6th grade. Tyler was the other finalist. It felt really, really good. You smiled at him when you won. He just squinted his eyes at you, trying to intimadate you. But nothing could intimidate a world-class champion, such as yourself.

He didn't start bothering you again until the end of 8th grade. He asked you for pictures. You told him no. He still told everybody you sent them to him anyway. You were deemed "too slutty" for anyone to want to be friends with you after that. That was the consensus all the way up until now. Junior year.

Now you were sitting across from the one person who had made your life a living hell for the past 10 years. You didn't even know why. You've never done anything to him. Did he resent you for something? Or was he just trying to entertain himself with the shy kid with a different sense of style? Maybe it was none of the above.

Thoughts like this crossed your mind as you pretended to read a book. You looked at the clock. It was only 3:45. You looked at Tyler. He was already looking at you. You gave him a weird look and went back to fake reading. He slid you a note.

"why u reading that?" it said.

You quietly opened your pencil pouch so as not to draw attention to the highly punishable note-passing. Mr. Regal enforced rules by the book, and you did not want to spend another day here wasting your time. You could hear a pen drop in that room. Any sort of noise would mean certain death.

"i found it in the library," you wrote back.

Tyler was writing some sort of response until a hand snatched the paper away. You looked up with a hint of fear in your eyes.

"Passing notes?" Mr. Regal exclaimed. "You two know better. Especially as juniors. That's another detention for you both!"

If looks could kill, Mr. Regal would be dead on the floor. You had incredibly important napping plans for tomorrow. Tyler probably had lacrosse practice or something sporty like that. You and Tyler looked at each other, but you quickly went back to pretend reading. It was only 3:50 at that point. Could time go by any slower?

You actually started to find yourself interested in the book you were reading, and you quickly got lost in its world. But that was cut short when Mr. Regal said everyone could go. It was 4:25 by then.

You were walking to your car when you heard a voice call behind you.

"Hey!" it said.

You looked behind you.

Here we go.

"What, Tyler?"

"I just wanted to say that's my favorite book you were reading," he said with a slight smirk.

You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever," you said.

You began to continue your walk to the back of the parking lot. You didn't like to park next to others.

He followed you to your car. You checked your phone and the time read 4:32.

"What?" you said, annoyed.

Your back was to your driver-side door. He put his hands on either side of you.

"I just think it's impressive someone like you could read such profound literature," he said sarcastically.

"Shut the fuck up, Tyler. It's literally your fault we have to go back to detention tomorrow," you said.

"You didn't have to answer back," he said.

"You didn't have to talk to me in the first place," you snapped back.

"I wanted to talk to you," he answered.

"I didn't," you said while crossing your arms.

"I think you're a liar," he whispered.

"I think you should eat a dick, bitch," you said aggressively.

The tension was ever-rising between the two of you. Years and years of hate between you both had finally come to its peak. All the while, he had you pinned beneath him, and you had nowhere to go. Your faces were only inches apart. His eyes locked into yours. After a few seconds, you looked away. You'd die if anyone saw you like that with Tyler of all people. Luckily, no one did. He didn't seem to really care. He sighed and walked away.

You got into your car and went home.

The time was 4:56 when you got to your room.

You took a nap, which you didn't wake up from until 6:45 the next morning.

School went by really fast that day. And when you got to the detention room, luckily it wasn't Mr. Regal. It was the principal, Mr. Khan. He was nice and understanding, but a lot of times, he let things fly under the radar. He seemed to only punish people for small things - like being late and note passing.

Unluckily, it was just you and Tyler that day. He sat across from you again.

this got too long so part 2 will b out soon ♡

[itjazzbicch]

All That Matters

Pairing:  Dahausen x Fem Reader

Summary: The reader follows her fellow members of Team Taz, watching Hook's new partnership with Dahausen, but hiding the fact that she is actually attracted to him. During a night at the gym, Ricky, Hobbs and Hook find her journal, learning her true feelings about Danhausen and having emotions exploding everywhere...

Warnings: Bit of angst between Team Taz, Swearing (First time I ever wrote Danhausen, so I hope I did well!)

Requested by: @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch (I hope you enjoy it!)

Word Count: 1.4k

Tag List: @demonqueen29 @peachy-satan00 @new-zealand-chic   @crowleysqueenofhell @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @thatpanpal @damnnhausen @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @linziland13 @xxx-jazz-xxx @writtingrose @whenimakeitshine1234 @cuzimacomedian

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF: 

“I still can’t believe Hook is hanging out with that clown,” Ricky walked into the gym with disgust on his face, Hook standing next to Danhausen as he was doing ‘pull-ups’ and by pull-ups, I mean hanging by one arm, body twirling around slowly.”

“Clown?” I laughed while watching just to groan, “He’s the whole damn circus. A big ass joke.”

“You can say that again,” Hobbs followed, all of us putting our gym bags on the bench next to Hooks.

It was so hard not to laugh at Ricky and Hobbs’s faces when Danhausen, still hanging by an arm, waved over, smiling wide:

“Hookhausen is alone no more! Team Taz in full force, Danhausen loves to see it!”

I had to walk away, breathing hitched from holding my laugh, hearing Ricky mumbled:

“What the fuck is wrong with that man?”

I kept my distance from all the guys and started stretching, having a more unique workout compared to them. At one point I was so zoned out, upside down hanging from a bar, doing sit ups and startled when I heard next to me:

“Wow! Danhausen is impressed! That’s very impressive!”

Seeing that it was just Dahausen, I settled, stopping for a moment when I took the time to see how pretty his eyes actually were in the light, feeling a small smile starting to form, till I saw Ricky and Hobbs in the corner of my eye, looking in our direction.

All I did was nod, then went back to my sit ups, fighting that smile again and hearing Dahausen saying to Hook:

“Hookhausen should train with her! Look how impressive she is!”

There was tension all around me and I could feel its massive energy radiating from the guys, making me workout quicker with a racing heart. I was going to wrap it up after those sit ups, but I noticed them all going to the locker room and I needed to be away from them, so I went to the treadmill.

“Hey, we’re wrapping up,” Ricky scoffed, looking to me.

I had to have been going max speed, yelling to Ricky:

“Go then! I won’t be long!”

He walked off with an eye roll, finally having some peace to myself and having to run so hard, pushing myself, it made me focused on that solely and by the time I was done, I felt exhausted.

Popping out my airpods, I headed over to the bench to get my bag, but when I picked up my bag and opened it, it was all of Hooks stuff.

Hook accidentally took my bag instead of his. I instantly rushed into their locker room with Hook’s bag, saying quickly:

“Dude! Can’t you ever pay attention? You took my bag!”

Completely ignore what I said, Ricky alongside Hook and Hobbs, held up my journal, saying:

“What the fuck is this?”

My body went stiff when my heart dropped, staring at my journal and noticing where my bookmark was, Hobbs looking along and reading out:

“I even caught him without the face paint one day, so handsome, but I love that face of his regardless. Getting to see his tattoos was a woah too, being a sucker for guys with tattoos. He always makes me laugh and smile and it’s so hard to put on this show because of the guys and Taz. They would totally kill me if they knew that I liked him.”

“Are you talking about that fucking clown?” Ricky snapped, pointing back to the bathroom.

None of them turned around to look, but Danhausen actually took a step out of the bathroom, foot halfway out, but stopped and stood still, watching and observing the situation.

“You got one thing right, I’m ready to kill you for this!” Ricky was pissed, Hobbs also expressing:

“What happened to him being the whole damn circus and a joke, huh?”

I was on the verge of tears, going over to take back my journal, but Ricky held up it up high so I couldn’t reach it.

“We asked you a question, Y/N! Answer it!”

“It’s obvious how she feels,” Hook mumbled, glancing up to me then the journal.

Again, I didn’t answer, going to get my journal again just for Ricky to keep it away, snapping, “I’m not gonna sa-“

I was so infuriated that I slapped Ricky across the face, the smacking noise echoing in the room, all of them freezing while I snatched my journal back, throwing Hook’s bag in the corner like a football and taking mine.

“So, you all think it’s just okay to invade peoples privacy?!” I roared, feeling a throb in my neck that grew, “Learn how to mind your own fucking business!”

I stormed off, slamming the door shut hard and when I got outside, I realized that I rode with Ricky and Hobbs and there was no talking to them after I smacked Ricky like that. I went around the building, looking to the full moon, plopping down on a set of stairs and trying not to cry, but failed horribly.

Pissed off, upset, feeling a bit betrayed by them going through my things like they did; I just couldn’t believe it, wiping the tears away and looking up when I heard a soft voice:

“Is it okay if Dahausen joins you?”

Still in sweat pants and cape, he took the time to come check on me and there was no way I could reject him after all of that, nodding to him, keeping our gaze as he sat next to me softly.

There was a small silence that began to feel awkward and all of my feelings and thoughts were obvious now, going to speak but he said first:

“So, you actually like Danhausen?”

I wasn’t sure if he was nervous or just really needed to believe it; Either way, what was the point in lying or hiding anything?

“I do,” I whispered, looking down at my fidgeting hands, admitting, “I just- you’re really one of a kind. You’re always yourself, don’t care what people think, truly kind, and I can’t help but have this attraction towards you. I like you a lot actually.”

Leaning to my knees, I started to cry again, overloaded with emotion, but still listening when he leaned down along with me, expressing along with his hands:

“Danhausen knows how Starks and Hobbs can be, believe me, I’ve been wanting to curse them, BUT; Like you mentioned, I don’t care what people think of me. Maybe you should do the same.”

Reconnecting a gaze, I knew he meant that with his heart and good intentions, trying to help me in the best way he could, doing just that when he said quickly:

“Just do not ever smack Danhausen like you did Starks. Jaw still hurts watching, my goodness! Dahausen has never seen so much force in a slap before!”

I instantly started laughing when he rubbed his jaw at the same time, settling down and watching a pure smile grow on his face, placing his hand next to mine on the stairs.

“Is it okay if Dahausen tells you something?”

With a nod, I was watching his hand, heart beginning to race again when he took my hand carefully, soft in mine as they interlocked and he admitted to me:

“Dahausen likes you too. A lot.”

His smile was super contagious, all of that anger and sadness wiped away now knowing that we shared the same feelings, squeezing his hand and whispering:

“You sure? I know I’ve said some things and-“

“Oh those were lies,” He swatted his free hand in the air, squeezing my other hand back, “It was quite obvious you only did those kind of things in front of them.”

Man, he sure was observant, hitting that nail on the head, making me smile more:

“Never mind what they think. If Dahausen and Y/N are happy, that’s all that matters.”

For someone that people may have found goofy, weird, or plain crazy, he sure was smart and had a good way of thinking, keeping me smiling.

“Y/N agrees,” I giggled, hugging as he opened his arms up wide, then latched around with a little shake, keeping me snug and tight in his arms, a good hug that I needed.

“Y/N-Hausen, what do you think?” He suggested and when I nodded, his eyes lit up, “Ah! Marvelous!”

I went to speak on it, but was left speechless, having to lean his head down to press his lips into mine, not trying to just make me happy or anything, truly meaning it with his spirituous heart and did kiss back, a hot heat in my cheeks, obviously flustered when he pulled back with a small pop.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” His arm wrapped around my shoulder, laying his head on top of mine, truly believing every word he said, hand waving up and past all the stars and moon, “We can take on the whole world if we have to.”

[keysgrave]

Wrestlers I Write For

I write for both aew and wwe now!

* indicates my favorites to write for

Keep in mind I usually only write female or gender neutral reader as they are easiest for me

I'll also write certain ships(I added those at the bottom

AEW:

Kenny Omega

Hook*

Adam Cole

Adam Page

Chuck Taylor*

Trent

MJF

Danhausen*

Kris Statlander*

Cash Wheeler

Dax Harwood

Wardlow

Kyle O'Reilly*

Orange Cassidy*

Nick Jackson

Matt Jackson*

Ricky Starks

Eddie Kingston*

Powerhouse Hobbs

Kip Sabian

Ruby Soho*

Athena

Buddy Matthews

Malakai Black

WWE:

Daniel Garcia

Jamie Hayter*

Toni Storm*

Austin Theory*

Johnny Gargano*

Drew McIntyre

Roman Reigns

Jimmy Uso*

Jey Uso*

Shayna Baszler

Indi Hartwell

Seth Rollins*

Sami Zayn

Kevin Owens

Dominik Mysterio*

Rhea Ripley*

Damian Priest*

Finn Balor*

Bayley*

Dakota Kai*

Iyo Sky (Io Shirai)

Naomi (idk if she still counts as wwe tbh)

Alexa Bliss

Asuka

Liv Morgan*

WHO I WONT WRITE FOR:

I will not write for any of the following

Sammy Guevara

Tay Conti

Anna Jay (it depends tbh, I'm willing to just not alot)

Jake Hager

Chris Jericho

Bryan Danielson (I dont like writing for him sorry)

Sting

Darby allin (I dont like writing for him)

CM Punk

Max Caster

The Miz

Dexter Lumis

Ships

Hook x Danhausen (hookhausen)

Trent x Chuck (best friends)

Dax x Cash (FTR)

Orange Cassidy x Chuck Taylor

[mjfass]

Is there any Hookhausen x Reader fanfics out there, asking for a friend… 👀

I haven’t found any but…

MUTUALS, IF YOU KNOW ANY, LET US KNOW, PLEASE.