#aew x oc

[hookhausenschips]

Soft Launch

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Requested by @wrestlingbaby

Claudio Castagnoli had always been comfortable in the spotlight—after all, being a professional wrestler meant the world was constantly watching, critiquing, adoring, or jeering. He was used to the crowd, used to the cameras, the backstage banter, and the thousands of fans who would chant his name. But what he wasn’t used to was this slow, creeping sense of vulnerability that had begun to accompany him in a new, private part of his life. This was different. This wasn’t the spectacle of the wrestling ring. This was something… softer.

Y/N had slipped into his life quietly, without fanfare. They’d met months ago, at a mutual friend’s gathering in Brooklyn—a laid-back barbecue under a string of twinkling lights, the scent of grilled jerk chicken mixing with the hum of old-school dancehall music. She had that effortless presence about her—the kind that felt natural, like she was always meant to be the center of whatever space she occupied. Her dark, curly hair was tied up in a loose bun, her skin glowing under the summer evening, and her smile wide enough to make the entire backyard feel like it had just turned into an after-party.

Y/N introduced herself with a teasing smile. “Call me Y/N,” she said, as if it were some kind of inside joke, her voice carrying that soft Jamaican lilt that immediately made Claudio feel like he was in the presence of someone who had seen far more of the world than he ever would.

For a while, he wasn’t sure what it was about her. She wasn’t starstruck by him, which was rare. She didn’t care about his wrestling career; at least, she didn’t care in the way everyone else did. And that made all the difference. Their conversations drifted between everything and nothing—music, food, the ridiculousness of life on the road. Y/N had a wicked sense of humor, always teasing him about the ridiculous things he’d try to cook while living in various hotel rooms. “Are you sure that’s even food, Claudio?” she'd laugh when he'd send pictures of his latest culinary attempts.

But beyond that, she didn’t ask him about his matches or his fame. She didn’t need to. And that’s what drew him in. He didn’t need to perform for her. He could just be�� himself.

Their friendship was easy, and gradually, something else began to take root between them. Texts turned into late-night phone calls, calls into weekends spent together in between his shows. There were no grand declarations, no rushed admissions of affection. It was a quiet kind of connection, built on small moments and small gestures that seemed to mean everything. A slight touch on his arm when they stood too close, the shared look when they both knew something neither of them wanted to admit. But still, they kept it mostly off the radar. Y/N’s world, her brand as she called it, was her own. And she was careful—too careful—to let people in on the details of her personal life.

She had a thriving social media presence—an Instagram that was polished, curated, but always with a touch of authenticity. Y/N was a master at navigating the fine line between sharing and protecting. Her followers adored her for it. Her photos were a mix of high-fashion looks, self-empowerment captions, and daily snippets that made her feel like someone you knew—someone real. But when it came to who she was with, that was always a mystery. The occasional post would feature someone in the background, their face always blurred or out of focus, their identity never fully revealed. And yet, Claudio began to notice how often his shadow would appear in the periphery of her life. A hand on his shoulder here, a half-smile there—just enough to make their followers ask questions.

Who’s that with you?

Is that your man?

The soft launches were almost too perfect. Nothing too obvious. Nothing too public. But then again, they weren’t hiding either. Y/N was subtle. She knew how to control a narrative, how to tease her audience without ever giving them what they wanted. Her life was her own story to tell, and when she was ready to share it, she would. Or maybe she wouldn’t. It was her choice.

Claudio wasn’t immune to the whispers of her followers. He saw the comments, the speculation. People who followed her closely had started connecting the dots. Some even tagged him in her pictures—Claudio Castagnoli, is that you?—but Y/N always deflected, keeping her secrets just enough out of reach to keep everyone intrigued.

“Your fans are really trying to figure us out,” Claudio remarked one night as they were scrolling through Instagram together in his hotel room. His thumb hovered over a comment that asked directly, Is this your boyfriend, Y/N? She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made him feel warm inside.

“It’s cute,” she said, her eyes bright with amusement. “They think they know, but they have no idea.”

Claudio just shook his head. He’d never been one for drama, not the kind that came from people online. But with Y/N, it felt different. He was intrigued by her ability to keep the world at arm’s length while letting him in. He was fascinated by her. There was something magnetic about her quiet confidence, the way she could let the world look but never truly see.

Then came that night. The night it all shifted.

It was a humid, starlit evening in SoHo, at an art gallery opening neither of them had planned on attending but had somehow found themselves at, swept up in the chaos of an impromptu “night out.” Y/N had just posted a story, a behind-the-scenes look at the gallery’s installations. Claudio had been standing a few feet behind her when she’d glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye with a soft, knowing smile.

Without missing a beat, she snapped a photo—this time, no artfully angled crops, no oblique shots. Just them. Standing close, the glow of the gallery lights casting soft shadows over their faces, fingers lightly intertwined. A candid moment, genuine, unguarded. She didn’t caption it with the usual one-liners or vague references. No, this time, she simply wrote:

“He’s my favorite.”

It was simple. Elegant. And the moment it went live, the floodgates opened. Comments began pouring in:

“FINALLY.” “Y’all been lowkey for months, huh?” “I KNEW IT!! #PowerCouple”

Claudio smiled when he saw the post, feeling that familiar warmth flood his chest. He wasn’t surprised by the reaction—Y/N had known exactly what she was doing. But for the first time, the world could no longer ignore what was right in front of them.

Y/N wasn’t one to make grand gestures. She didn’t need to. She never played by anyone else’s rules. It was always on her terms. And Claudio respected that.

They didn’t need a press release or a public speech to define what they were. They didn’t need anyone’s validation. What they had was theirs, slowly unfolding in soft glimpses, never fully explained but always understood between them.

And maybe that was the most beautiful part. Sometimes, the story didn’t need a perfect ending. It just needed to keep going.

[dagermanvampdanhausen]

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

[breathewiththeswitchblade]

Came up with a whole idea for my AU with Jay White in the shower and now it’s taken over my brain and must. Finish.

[baybaysbaybay]

So, WIP Sunday?

New little something I’m working on below the break

Inspired by this picture

Arya’s eyes rolled back in her head as she sank down on Adam’s cock, a whimper leaving her lips. It had been too long, she missed him so much. Her eyes flickered down at the man below her, his arms under his head as he racked his burning blue gaze up her from where they were connected. Absorbing every inch of her skin. She bit her lip as she met his eyes, his pupils are blown wide but this was challenge for him.

No touching. He could only watch as she rode him. She lifted her hips, slowly, painfully slowly, before sinking back down. He groaned in his chest as he watched her. Adam bit his lip as she set her brutally slow pace, watching as his cock sank deep into her, bottoming out. He wanted nothing more than to slide his fingers over her skin, and dig into her hips and thrust up into her. But he promised he could do this. A little challenge they had between them. He grunted out of his thoughts as she clamped down on his cock, making his eyes shoot up to meet hers. She smirked slightly as she sped up her pace a bit,

“You’re doing so well���” she giggled before groaning herself.

[mamirhodessxox]

We’re getting very explorative here sooo..taking requests for Dean Ambrose 😋🙏

🏷️ List: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @mini-rollins @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @bones-rhodes @cococodysleevlesshoodie @edtomh @actuallydrew

[theworldofotps]

12 Days of Hickeys (Drabble)

Pairing: Adam Page x OC Melissa Word Counter: 617 Description: Reader has spent the last eleven days leaving hickeys on Adam leading up to Christmas.

Had this idea in the drafts since last Christmas and since today is the birthday of one of my favorite people ever I thought it was perfect for her birthday fic. @melissahausen Happy birthday babes I hope your day is fabulous and this next year is better than the last. Love you _____ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist​ @melissahausen @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose @99hook @madhatterbri @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @surdelcielo @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @terrortwinunicorn @alyyaanna @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456 @mcreignsera @auburnwrites​ @aews-four-pillars @thatnerdwriter​ @sjwrites22​ If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. ______ Melissa had made it her playful mission to keep Adam blushing and flustered over the past eleven days. It was her own way of counting down to Christmas, teasing and showing her affection in a way only the two of them understood. Every day leading up to Christmas, she’d leave a hickey in some hidden spot on his body. A little reminder of her love that he had to strategically conceal before stepping into the AEW ring.

Today was the twelfth day, the last in her mischievous streak. Adam was lying on their shared bed, scrolling through his phone while Melissa watched him from across the room. She couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly handsome he looked even in this moment. His messy hair and relaxed posture a far cry from the confident cowboy persona he donned in the ring.

“Adammm."

She called, her tone sweet and teasing as she tried to get his attention.

He looked up, one eyebrow raised a knowing smirk on his face.

“What’s up, babe?”

Melissa crossed the room, climbing onto the bed to straddle his waist. He set his phone aside, already grinning as he rested his hands on her hips.

“You look like you’re up to no good."

He remarked, though his eyes gleamed with fondness.

“I might be.”

She admitted, leaning down so her face was inches from his.

“It’s the last day of my little tradition so I have to make it count.”

Adam chuckled, his hands tightening slightly on her hips.

“You’ve been making it pretty hard to explain myself in the locker room, you know that? I think Max caught a glimpse of the one on my shoulder yesterday.”

Melissa smirked in amusement her eyes playful.

“Good. Let them wonder.”

Her fingers trailed up his chest, and she leaned in to press a soft kiss against his neck.

“Now hold still. I want this one to be the best one.”

He tilted his head slightly, giving her better access, a low hum of approval escaping his lips as she began her work. Her lips pressed against his skin with deliberate pressure, alternating between kisses and gentle nips that sent shivers through him. She took her time, ensuring the mark she left was bold and impossible to miss.

When she pulled back to admire her handiwork, a proud grin spread across her face.

“There we go it's perfect.”

Adam craned his neck to glance at the spot in the mirror on the bedside table. It was just below his jawline, a deep, unmistakable mark. He groaned playfully.

“You really went all out, huh? How am I supposed to hide this one?”

“That’s the point babe."

Melissa teased, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He laughed, pulling her down into his arms.

“As if there’s any doubt about that. You’re lucky I think your little game is cute.”

Melissa nestled against him, her heart swelling with affection.

“You love it, and you love me.”

“Can’t argue with that honestly."

He murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“But you know I’m gonna have to wrestle with a bandana or something now.”

She laughed looking at him in amusement.

“Then you’d better make it part of your gimmick. Call it the ‘Melissa Special.’”

Adam chuckled, shaking his head.

“You’re impossible you know that?"

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way we both know it.”

Melissa said, her voice soft but filled with conviction.

He held her close, the warmth between them a perfect contrast to the chill of the winter outside. No matter how much teasing and trouble she brought into his life, Adam wouldn’t trade Melissa’s love for anything.

[milesworld96]

At this point I just accepted the fact that I’m not funny or accurate with these shits and I’m just REALLY bored

[spine-buster]

portofino ft. kenny omega

gif credit @/stukky

Length: 23k Summary: You and Tyson have history.  Lots of it.  When you met, you could have never envisioned he would be in your life the way he still is.  But things get complicated, and tricky, and complex.  Things hurt – lots of things hurt.  And things can only get worse before they can get better, right? A/N: my first wrestling fic since 2017. The formatting and spacing on this is super fucked up and not idea and I apologize for that, but Tumblr's new and "improved" text editor is literally the fucking worst and glitches SO much that the most I could do was this. This will also be posted on my AO3 (@/spinebuster) if you prefer there!

10th May 2023

it only hurts this much right now was what i was thinking the whole time

You were crying again.

At this point, you were basically just leaking.

You didn’t want Tyson to find out, so you tried with all your might to stop yourself, rubbing away your tears with the back of your hand and trying to steady your breathing.  You breathed in and out, in and out, in and out.  You hoped no-one else around noticed.  But it was hard when there were so many people, hard when you were friends with practically all of them, hard when any little hint of water or redness of your eye could cause someone like Austin or Hikaru or Dustin to speak up and ask you what was wrong.  You almost wanted to hide in a closet until you calmed down, but that was childish. 

You went into one of the washrooms backstage anyway, not bothering to go into a stall but checking them all quickly anyway to ensure nobody else was with you.  When you knew you were clear, you stood in front of the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror.  Your cheeks were red, your eyes were watery.  You sighed.

“Get it together, Hazel,” you mumbled to yourself.  You so desperately needed to get it the fuck together.  “Stop crying.  You’re such a baby.”

The pep talk didn’t help much.

***

“Have you seen Hazel anywhere?” Tyson asked Nick as he unraveled the tape around his wrists.

“Nah,” he answered, shaking his head.  “Probably went back to the hotel a bit early.”

“Why would she do that?” Tyson asked.  Matt, from behind his brother, gave one of his best friends a look.  “Oh.  Right,” Tyson realized.

“Don’t think she wants to hang out here anymore than she needs to,” Nick commented.

“Can you blame her?” Matt asked his brother.

“Not in the slightest.”

***

You had the TV on for background noise as you went about your routines and wandered aimlessly around the hotel room.  It was pitch black outside in Detroit; you couldn’t even see anything out the window besides the lights from the hotel parking lot.  What a view.  You tried to distract yourself with the TV, sitting down on the suite’s couch, but you couldn’t even do that.  Your legs pushed you back up to wander more.  You’d check your phone and texted your mom back.  You texted Hikaru that maybe brunch would be a better idea tomorrow instead of meeting her in the lobby for the continental breakfast, knowing what tomorrow morning would probably look like. 

At some point, you heard some noise and voices from outside your room.  Not long after, the sounds of a key card swiping, and finally the turn of the doorknob.  You were greeted with Tyson – or, more so, Tyson was greeted with you, since you were the one in his room.  It wasn’t a surprise that you were there, but it was still a welcome sight.  It was better than being alone.

“Hey,” you greeted him.  It had been about an hour since you stopped crying, so you hoped your eyes and face had stopped showing it.

“Hazel, hey,” he said, smiling at you, despite what he had just been through.  He wheeled his bag in behind him before the door shut on its own.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied.  “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he shrugged.  He’d been saying that a lot lately.  You hated when he did.  “You left early.”

You nodded quickly, apologetically.  “I didn’t want to stick around.  Knowing that he’s lurking around, you know…I just didn’t want to have to deal with it.”

“I didn’t even see him, for what it’s worth.  If you stayed in our locker room you would’ve been good.”

The two of you didn’t even have to say his name for you to understand.  In some ways, you were glad he acted as a buffer, an excuse you could pull, that way you could hide why you really left early.  “I watched most of the match, I swear.  Until I couldn’t anymore.”

“When was that?”

“When you guys broke the cage,” you were finally honest, just slightly.

“So you didn’t see Don stab me with a screwdriver.”

You winced.  “No.  But you at least told me about that.  You didn’t tell me the cage was going to break.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice solemn.  “You know how these matches get put together.  Things get added.  Things get taken out.”

Did you ever.  But you still couldn’t get used to how…well, violent Tyson’s matches were getting.  Unnecessary violence.  Unnecessary risk.  There was no reason for Tyson to bleed, and now you felt he was bleeding every week.  You didn’t know how much longer you’d last.  “How’s your knee?” you asked, since you saw it get caught up in the cage when it broke, causing you to cry in the first place.  He’d just taken time off for double knee surgery; you were scared he was taking it too far.

“Knees are fine.  As good as they can be,” he assured you.  “Can you…can you help me with something else, though?”

“Of course.  What is it?”

“There’s, umm, there’s some scratches on my back.  I need someone to take off the big bandage, apply this cream the doctor gave me, and tape on a new bandage.”

“Okay,” you nodded slightly.  You’d done a version of this countless times before but it never got easier.  Just like watching him do these kinds of matches never got easier.  “Do you want to sit on the bed?”

He changed out of his gym shorts and into his pyjama shorts first so he could sleep right afterwards.  You watched as he sat on the bed, handing you the ointment.  When you unravelled the bandage, your stomach was in knots about how big it was.  “Ty…”

“It’s going to look worse than it feels,” he warned.  “It doesn’t feel that bad, Hazel.  I promise.”  He took off his shirt then, slowly, grunting slightly.  The bandage covered nearly half his back.  You held your breath, trying to keep your emotions in check.  “The tape that’s holding the bandage in place – it doesn’t hurt.  You can just peel it off,” he instructed.  “I have more for when you put the new one on.”

You started peeling away the tape, discarding it beside you as you.  When it was fully peeled, the bandage still stayed in place, which only meant to you it was sticking onto his skin because of the blood.  You held your breath again as you took the bandage off, but fully gasped loudly in horror, your breath taken away when you saw the state of his back.  “Oh Ty…” you cried.

“Hazel—”

“Tyson, what did you do?  What did you do?” you begged from him.  You brought your hand up, tracing the scratches and cuts delicately with your fingertips.  “Tyson…” he had to hear the pain in your voice.

“I’m sorry, Hazel.  I’m sorry,” he said.  “I’m so sorry.”

And that’s when it began again: the tears.  You grabbed the ointment and unscrewed the cap, taking in the full picture of his back.  You cried silently, tears falling down your face as you would apply small bits of ointment to your fingers before rubbing it along all the scratches.  You would do this for Tyson until the day you died, but you hated that it had to be like this.  The two of you had always looked out for one another – Tyson more so, for obvious reasons, but that was a whole other story – but seeing his body mutilated like this twisted something in you that you couldn’t kick.  It was one thing to see Kenny after a 60-minute match with Okada, body bruised and banged up but all in one piece; it was another thing to see barbed wire and nail scratches, cuts, and footprints on his face.

He winced in pain every so often and you’d keel, hating yourself for hurting him when you were supposed to be helping him.  You tried not to let him hear you cry, but you were sure the couple of sniffles gave it away.  When you finally asked for the tape for the bandage and your voice cracked, you were positive.

Tyson handed you the tape, but turned around slightly to see you.  “You’re crying.  Why are you crying?” he asked.

You shook your head to ignore him.  You unravelled the tape and began ripping strips to use.  “Turn around.”

“Hazel—”

“Sit still.”

Tyson stayed silent.  You positioned the bandage to cover all the scratches before taping it into place.  When you were done, you tossed the tape to the side, the rest of his back looking fairly normal besides the scars you already knew about.  Unable to control yourself, you leaned forward and pressed your cheek to his skin on his back between his shoulder blades, inhaling and exhaling deeply.  Tyson felt what you were doing, the skin-to-skin contact an instantaneous feeling, and breathed in and out along with you.  You savoured the feeling of the Tyson you knew on your skin.  Not mutilated Tyson.  Not banged up Tyson.  Just the Tyson you knew for twelve years, the Tyson who looked out for you, the Tyson who was your mentor.

“I’m sorry, Hazel,” he whispered, his words sincere.  He hated seeing, feeling you so upset.

“Can I stick around tonight?” you asked.

“You never have to ask.  You just can.”

When you crawled to step off the bed, Tyson grabbed your arm to prevent you from going anywhere momentarily.  You wanted to get the feeling of tears off your face, but he had other plans.  You were right at his side, so so close.  “I really am sorry,” he told you.  “I hate seeing you like this.”

Tears were coming again.  You didn’t try to stop them this time.  You still shook your head and tried to wipe them away.  “It’s just getting harder and harder for me to watch you put your body through these hardcore matches,” you admitted.  “Sometimes I just wish you’d stick to what you’re good at.  And that’s not to say you’re not good at the hardcore stuff, because you are – you’re good at everything.  I just wish I didn’t have to see your body be mutilated for the sake of spectacle.  I hate—I hate seeing what you have to do.  You, more than anyone, know how to put on a spectacle without having to do that shit.  I hate seeing you destroy your body, Ty.  I just hate it.  I’m sorry.”

He nodded his head in understanding.  “I know it’s hard.  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry,” was all he could say.

Tyson waited for you to wash your face and put on one of his t-shirts before the both of you got into bed.  You wondered if you should get close at all, possibly even touch him, and you were about to decide against him until he winced again, trying to get into a comfortable position.  It was at that point that your body physically moved towards his before your mind knew what it was doing.  It was like a fight-or-flight response.  He found a comfortable position sleeping on his side, and you curled up right against his back like the big spoon, despite being two-thirds his size. 

In the quietness of the room, with the low hum of the air conditioner the only noise, you placed a kiss on his shoulder.  He didn’t say anything, but you knew he felt it.

***

The next morning, you woke up still snuggled into Tyson.  You both had inevitably shifted throughout the night: Tyson was lying on his back, apparently able to do so without pain, while you were sleeping right up against him.  When you opened your eyes, you saw that he was still sound asleep, one arm draped over his chest.

“Haze?” you heard him mumble in a groggy voice.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t fully asleep.  “Hmm?”

“Thank you for last night,” he said.

You didn’t answer right away.  “I’ll always be there to help you, Tyson.  You know that.”

He moved so that the arm that had been squished against you was now around you, pulling you into his body even more than you already were.  The usual smell of him filled your airways; it practically made you drunk.  Drunk enough to fall back asleep, his body bringing you peace as much as it did pain.

***

11th May 2023

time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it i'd like to be my old self again, but i'm still trying to find it

When you were back in Orlando, you settled into the solace of your apartment, unpacking immediately and throwing your clothes in the washing machine.  You were called a psychopath more than once by Stephen for being that type of person – especially after it became a meme on the internet – but you couldn’t help it.  You had even packed Tyson’s shirt that you’d slept in last night, seeing it mixed in with your other clothes before you threw in a Tide Pod and closed the door.

After unpacking, you set your suitcase in your closet and resolved to have a bowl of lime tortilla chips as you sat on the couch and scrolled through Instagram and cuddled with your ragdoll cat, Zadie.  You needed to disconnect from wrestling for a bit, from flashbacks of seeing Tyson’s scratched-up back whipping through your mind every other minute.  But as you sat down on your couch, bowl or tortilla chips in hand, you couldn’t help but notice your most prized belongings: your wrestling accolades you had organized neatly on the wall and in the media unit that surrounded your TV.  Your Match of the Year plaques from 2014 and 2015.  Your Woman of the Year awards.  A women’s belt.  Framed photographs of you wrestling.  Frame photographs of you with your friends.  With your family.  With Tyson.

Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago and sometimes it felt like you had to retire yesterday.  You had enjoyed an amazing but short career.  You’d had a lot of ups, a lot of downs, a lot of heartbreaks, a lot of memorable moments.  There was the time you’d gone 20-minutes with Toni Storm in a match that ended up getting over a million views on YouTube.  You’d performed in infamous Reseda, in the PWG arena, to the most raucous crowd you’d ever performed in front of.  You had travelled to America, Japan, the UK, Germany, Italy, France, Mexico, and Ireland to wrestle.  You had hype.  You had respect.  People wrote about you.  People paid to see you.  People lined up for you at meet and greets.  People wanted your autograph and your t-shirts at shows, handing you wads of cash for two medium and two kids’ t-shirts so the whole family could match.  While you had made a name for yourself, you’d racked up the injuries too.  There was the broken wrist early on, which wasn’t that bad – from a show in Toronto where you just landed awkwardly.  You were able to finish the match, and thanks to the Canadian health care system you held so dear, it was in a cast just a few hours later.  There was a broken ankle that actually forced you to stay back from a tour of Ireland that many of your friends went on.

At one point in 2014, you were booked to wrestle against a women’s wrestler, fairly new to the scene, named Bea Priestley.  The both of you had gone over the match beforehand, but once in the ring, she did nothing you two spoke about.  That was fine – you were a professional – but Bea was wrestling stiff, and you were getting angrier every passing moment in the ring, even warning her to cool it.  When she actually did one of the sequences you’d called beforehand, she ended up breaking your sternum.  You had to be out for twelve weeks.  You never heard from Bea.  It was fine.  Whatever.

But the next time Bea Priestley wrestled you, she broke your neck.

You told her you didn’t want to take anything too risky.  “Why?  You don’t trust me?” she had the audacity to ask you.  During the match, when she picked you up and flipped you upside down, you knew what was coming, so you tried to get into a safe position.  But none of that mattered.  Nothing would have saved you.

You remembered dropping on you head, and you remember seeing a light, and you remember your whole body going limp.  It felt like you weight a million pounds; you were completely paralyzed from the neck down.  You couldn’t move, and it was the scariest seconds of your life.  Rick Knox immediately noticed.  You closed your eyes and willed your brain to wiggle your fingers, and after about five or six seconds, you felt them rubbing against each other, even just slightly.  You remembered seeing Bea try to kick you, but Rick Knox earnestly holding her back.  When he pushed her far enough away, he knelt down by your head.  “Haze, what happened?” he asked.  You knew your body.  You knew what this was.  You told Rick not to touch you, that you had broken your neck. 

You remember him throwing up one of the most emphatic X’s you’d ever seen and the whole crowd going silent.  Rick was screaming something, but you were focused on the worst pain you’d ever felt in your neck as you began feeling again in your extremities.  After that, so much was a blur.  You remember Austin somehow being beside your face too, telling you everything was going to be okay – you later learned he was watching from the back and ran out the second Rick threw up the X.  You remember Dustin being there too, doing much of what Austin was doing, giving Bea dirty looks – you later learned he was the one who called the ambulance.  Austin and Dustin were very likely the reasons things weren’t worse, the reason why you were still walking. 

At the hospital they ran x-rays and MRIs and other tests, as usual, and they put a neck brace on you.  Dustin had followed you to the hospital to explain everything to the emergency doctors, Austin and Kyle and Candice following close behind in a car.  When the results finally came back, it was even worse than you – than everybody – thought. 

“Your disc hit your spinal cord, which is why you saw the white light,” the doctor explained.  “That’s what caused the temporary paralysis.”

“So I broke it, like I thought,” you wanted the confirmation.  People had recovered from broken necks before.  So many had been able to get back into the ring.

The doctor sighed.  “Miss Fiore…” she began.  “Your disc hit your spinal cord.  You didn’t fracture your neck.  You didn’t break it.  What you suffered is what we refer to as a spinal cord concussion.  You don’t have to sever your spinal cord to be paralyzed for life, you could just touch it and be paralyzed for life.  This…what happened to you…is technically worse.”

You remember feeling as if the blood drained from your body.  “Paralyzed?”

She sighed again.  “Miss Fiore…you have a very, very similar injury to Christopher Reeve.  Your C2 is what controls your breathing.  The truth is, when it hit your spinal cord, you should have suffocated to death in the ring.  Out of the five percent of people that survive this injury, ninety-nine percent are paralyzed.  It’s quite literally a miracle that you are still able to walk.” 

You had emergency spinal fusion surgery less than 24 hours later.  Four screws, a rod, and sixteen staples created a gnarly, awful scar on your neck that was still visible whenever you had your hair up. 

Your wrestling career was over.

Your phone buzzed loudly from your coffee table, breaking your train of thought.  At least it kept you from crying.  When you picked it up, you noticed Tyson’s name flash across the screen.

Want to come up and watch some Netflix or something?  We can even keep watching that German duchess show you like.  Promise.

He lived in one of the penthouses on the 34th floor, while you lived in a two bedroom on the 18th.  How embarrassing was that?  Even your living situations were inextricably linked.  You swiped your phone open and texted him back quickly. 

It’s okay.  I need some time alone.  Let’s go for coffee tomorrow or something.

It was Dustin who had to make the call to Tyson when you were in the hospital.  He was in Japan on a tour, and word hadn’t gotten to him.  Dustin told you he had freaked out on the phone, like completely freaked out.  After your surgery and after all your visitors had left, your room surrounded by flowers and get well soon cards, you FaceTimed him.  He picked up on barely the second ring.  It was the first time you’d ever seen him tear up, though you later learned he didn’t completely break down until after he hung up.  You tried to cheer him up, telling him the first thing you were going to do when you were cleared was go to Japan to see him.  He made you promise not to fly unless a doctor said it was okay.  He had two weeks off in about a month’s time and resolved to stay with you for the duration to help you.  You told him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted.

Those two weeks were when you realized Tyson would be in your life forever.

You’d still done well for yourself since then.  You ended up starting a variety of projects – a podcast, becoming a semi-influencer on Instagram.  But perhaps most successful, and what kept your memory alive in the hearts and minds of wrestling fans worldwide despite not fighting in the ring anymore, was your YouTube series.  Kick Out in the Kitchen.  A series you started, inspired by the memory of your dad who was a chef, where you invited wrestlers to help you cook increasingly complex dishes.  You’d interview them along the way, teach them how to properly cut an onion, and make sure they didn’t slice off a finger in the process.  It was hysterical, and it was a hit.

Your life was good.  It really was.  You had amazing friends, you had your career, you had your mom in Winnipeg, you had an apartment, you had Tyson.  But sometimes you ached for the past; sometimes you wanted to still be in the ring, winning championships and changing the wrestling landscape just like your close friends were doing.  That just wasn’t in the cards for you, and that’s okay.  But it still hurt sometimes.

Your phone buzzed again, the badge rolling down from the top of your screen. 

Are you sure?  Need to talk?

I’m good.  Thanks Ty <3 see you tomorrow.

***

It all began with Portofino. 

Well, it all really began with Tyson making a remark about how you always carried a book around in your gym bag.  You were in Winnipeg then, training to become a wrestler, and he’d visited the school on a trip home from Japan in 2011.  “I promised my mom I’d graduate university before pursuing wrestling full-time,” you had explained to him.  “She wants me to have a degree.  It’s a non-negotiable.”

The book in question that he saw that day was An Artist of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro.  He was intrigued by the Japanese name of the author more than anything, although when you told him the synopsis, he perked up quite considerably. 

He was 28 at the time.  You were 20.

You were so, so young, but you were the only one that had spoken to him at length about your vision of what pro wrestling is and what pro wrestling could be.  You listened to him more intently than anyone else in your class when he spoke of his time in Japan.  You’d seen the match he had at his cottage.  You saw his match against nine-year-old Haruka and against Yoshihiko the blow-up doll.  Some of your fellow trainees looked at you weird.  You were the only one who had expressed any interest in travelling somewhere other than the United States for pro wrestling – maybe go to the UK, or do a tour of Europe, or, if you were lucky enough, do a tour of Japan. 

By the end of the week, Tyson gave you his number and said if you were ever in Japan to contact him.

You did more than that.  You didn’t just wait the two years between meeting him and graduating to speak to him again.  You actively kept in touch with him.  You became friends as you learned more about each other.  So much so that after local shows on weekends, travelling to Toronto, Calgary, Vancouver, and Pasadena in the summers to wrestle, and graduation, when you arrived in Japan for the first time he picked you up from the airport. 

He looked out for you.  He always did.

He always would.

***

PORTOFINO, 2014

i'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time

You found yourself squished in the backseat of a tiny Italian car between Matt Jackson and Kenny Omega, Tommaso Ciampa in the driver’s seat and Nick Jackson in the passenger’s seat.  That’s who they were last night, anyway, participating in matches and stealing the show in Genoa, Italy.  Today, you were just Matt, Tyson, Tommaso, Nick, and Hazel going to Portofino.

The promoter who had lured you all (and more) to Italy for a mini tour had mentioned the famous Italian Riviera town was only an hour away, so on the two days off you had between shows, you all decided to go.  Nick had found the hotel and booked the rooms.  Tommaso volunteered to drive.  A car with Austin, Kyle, Johnny, Candice, and Bobby were following close behind you.

“You’re not squished, are you?  D’you have enough room?” Tyson asked as he looked down at your frame, tiny in comparison to the bulk that surrounded you.

“I’ll live,” you assured him.  “Besides, you’re the one with your knees up to your chin.  Why didn’t you demand the front seat?”

“I couldn’t leave you in the middle between Matt and Nick,” he said, as if it was his moral obligation to protect you from two of the nicest guys on earth.  “Besides, Nick wants to learn more Italian.”

“Nick can barely speak English.”

“Whatja just say about me?” he hissed playfully from the backseat.  A smile spread across Tyson’s face.  “You’re gonna pay for that, Hazel.”

“I’m terrified.”

“You’re fearless, huh?” Tommaso joked from the front seat, looking at you through his rearview mirror.

“Not fearless.  I’m scared of a lot of things,” you clarified, being honest.  “But Matt and Nick aren’t one of ‘em.” 

When you all got into town, you checked into the hotel.  It was obvious that Matt and Nick would share a room together, just like it was obvious Johnny and Candice would, too.  After Austin paired up with Kyle (they were, technically, the other couple on the trip), and Tomasso paired up with Bobby, you and Tyson were inevitably the only pair left.  Was it normal for a young female wrestler to sleep in a room with her mentor during a trip to Italy?  Who knows.  You (and Candice) were used to being the only girls in the room a lot.  This was no different.  All you knew was that it didn’t matter to you: you knew Tyson, and everybody else, and it was the last thing on your mind because what really mattered was that you were in Italy.

Tyson unlocked the hotel room, the both of you pulling your bags in behind you.  There were two single beds placed together in the room, a window and a door out to the balcony providing the perfect cross breeze. 

“Okay, we’re not in a university dorm,” you commented, scoffing at the setup of the beds before pushing them together.  Tyson just watched.  You looked up at him.  “You need sunscreen?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded his head.

You found it in your bag and tossed it over to him.  You walked over to the small balcony and stepped out, taking in the view of the harbour from the room.  You guys got lucky, the way that this hotel was even available on such short notice – and five rooms at that.  The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.  That alone told you that it was going to be a great day. 

You had been admiring the view of the harbour so much that you almost didn’t hear Tyson step out and join you on the balcony.  It was so small that between your bodies and the two chairs, it was full.  “Matt and Nick texted to meet in the lobby in fifteen,” he said.  “Are you good with that?”

Your bathing suit was already on underneath your sun dress, so you nodded your head.  “Just need the sunscreen,” you mentioned, and he handed it to you.  You perched your leg up on one of the chairs to slather the sunscreen on your leg, bringing it all the way up to the tops of your thighs.  Tyson couldn’t help but stare at your legs and not the view of the harbour.  You tried not to smile about it and looked away instead.  “Do we know where we’re going, by the way?  Portofino doesn’t exactly have a beach.”

Tyson furrowed his brows.  “How do you know?”

“My dad was from around here, remember?”

Tyson nodded at your reminder.  “That’s right.  Sorry, I forgot.”

You’d told Tyson a lot of stories about your dad since you met him, and every time you told a story, mentioned a characteristic, an odd quirk your dad used to do, he’d always listened intently.  You’d lost your dad to cancer at fifteen years old, and you missed him every day since.  It left a hole in you.  Understanding how close you and your dad were, Tyson always made sure to remember the details.  You mentioned to him once how you actually liked speaking about him because it meant you were keeping his memory alive, and Tyson told you he thought that was the most touching thing he’d ever heard.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you said, moving on to your other leg.  “I remember coming here as a kid.  The beaches are really rocky.  Either we get lucky and there’s nobody, or we have to find our own private place.”

He watched your hands travel up your thighs.  “You should take the reins on that, then,” he said.  You could see his Adam’s apple bob in his neck.  “Tommaso’s Italian is shit.”

You did.  Eventually, when you and the group made it down to the harbour, you asked in your broken Italian where the best place was – you probably sounded like a caveman – and some delightful locals pointed you in the right direction.  Like you remembered, it was rocky, but you found enough spots on huge flat rocks for towels and bags.  The best part was you were right beside a climbable cliff, so you knew all the guys would be doing crazy jumps.  The entire afternoon was spent between tanning on the rocks and cooling off in the water.  You had jumped off the cliff with Candice, with Tyson, and with Austin.  You swam in the water and got your hair wet and let the sunlight hit your face.  You’d caught Tyson’s eye so many times you lost count.  You felt pure happiness.

There was a moment after you jumped off the cliff for the second time with Tyson – a good photo op, according to Matt taking them – where you held hands as your ran and plummeted into the water.  Even underwater, despite the pressure, your hands stayed clasped.  It was only when you got back to the surface that your hands separated.  You could see Tyson’s smile.  “You alright?” he asked.

You only nodded.  You paddled the small distance over to him and attached your whole body to his.  You don’t know what came over you, but you wrapped your legs around his torso underwater, and as you did you could feel his hands go to your thighs.  Your arms wrapping around his shoulders, attaching yourself to him piggy-back style.  He looked behind his shoulder to see you.  “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded again.  “I just feel like being close to you,” you admitted.  “Is that okay?”

There was a slight pause.  “Of course,” he said.  “You want to stay out here for a bit?”

“Yeah.  Just you and me for a little bit,” you said.  “Are you having fun?”

“I’m having the time of my life.”

“It sucks that we only get one day.  This area of Italy is so beautiful.  Have you ever been?”

“No.  This is my first time,” he revealed.  “I’m just happy I’m getting to spend it with you.”

You smiled, giving him as much of a hug as you could by squeezing your limbs around him tighter.  “You’re going to have to come back and spend a decent amount of time here.  I remember coming here when I was nine to visit my dad’s family, and, Ty—Portofino isn’t even the most beautiful town on the water.  And the food – the food!”

He smiled.  “We’re going to have to find a place tonight.  You’ll have to use your Italian again.  Find us the best restaurant in the town.”

There was silence between the two of you, the noise from the waves and from your friends and the other tourists filling the air instead.  You leaned your head forward so it was settled right into his shoulder.  “Hey Ty?” your voice was low this time.

“Hmm?”

“I’m happy I get to spend it with you, too.  Sometimes I feel like all I want to do is spend time with you.”

Tyson felt the same.  His breath caught in his throat.  All he could do was nod.  “Yeah…yeah.”

*

That night, after showering the salt water off and changing into another flowy dress, you all went out for dinner and had the best pasta and fish and wine you’d ever had in your life.  The waiter fell in love with your group and kept bringing you goodies: glasses of wine from the cellar, shots from the bar, extra plates of tiramisu or bombe.  Your stomach was full but your heart was fuller, and you didn’t want the day to end. 

Retiring back to the hotel meant you and Tyson would be alone again.  After the both of you packed away your things so you were already packed for tomorrow morning, you changed into pyjamas and got in to your pushed together beds.  Tyson browsed through his phone a bit before setting it on his beside and turning over to his side to sleep.

You, on the other hand, could not. 

You kept thinking of the feeling of his hands on your body.  It wasn’t like it was a new sensation – you trained with him constantly.  But there was something about the way he touched it when you were both in the water, the way nobody could see how his arms wrapped around you or how his hands went to your thighs to wrap your legs around his body as he gave you a piggy-back ride.  Even at dinner, sitting beside you at the table on the patio overlooking the water, his forearm rubbing up against yours underneath the table since your group was so squished together.

It was electric.  And now, all that electricity was in you with nowhere to go.

So much time had passed that you were 95% sure he was asleep.  If you were to say anything, you’d definitely be waking him up from his beauty sleep.  “Ty…” you mumbled out, still unsure if you even should as you stared up at the ceiling.

“Hazel?”

Well, at least you felt less bad about it now.  “Can you sleep?”

“Nah,” he said.  “Can you?”

“I think the sun today energized my body to the point where I can re-enact Shawn and Bret’s iron man match.”

You could hear Tyson giggle from his side of the bed.  “Are you Bret or Shawn in that scenario?”

“Both.”

He snorted.  You could feel him shift positions so that he could look at you now.  You turned over to your side as well.  “I’m dead serious.  I feel, like, buzzed.”

“I’m sure one of the guys has melatonin if you’re really worried,” he said.

You shook your head.  “I’ll be fine,” you assured him.  “Can I see all the pictures you took today?”

Tyson had learned a long time ago from his good friend Rami Sebei that he should be taking pictures of all the places he went and everything he saw and did (just as Rami did), so he made it a point since then to do just that.  He leaned over and unplugged his phone from the nightstand, and when he began to set back into his spot in bed, you didn’t let him until you had fit yourself into his side.  He didn’t even think twice as you did so, wrapping his arm around your body as you nestled your head against his chest.  You were so close he could smell the product you’d put into your hair.  You giggled through all the photos, at Austin’s terrified face the first time he jumped, versus Matt and Nick contemplating whether they could do a shooting star press into the water.  You saw the pictures he took of you and Candice hugging each other, and the pictures Bobby took of you and Tyson together on the rocks and posing in the shallow part of the water.  The more you laughed and smiled, the more he did too. 

When you’d seen all the photos, Tyson put his phone back on the nightstand but you stayed right where you were.  He laid back, savouring the feeling of your head on his chest, of your arm draped across him, how your fingertips had tip-toed and glided along his skin every time you laughed at a picture.

“Can I ask you a question?” you asked, moving to look at him.

“Of course.”

“How lame did you think I was the first time you met me?”

He giggled again.  So distinct in its sound; you’d be able to hear it from a mile away.  “I didn’t think you were lame at all,” he was smiling at you.  “I was actually shocked at how mature you were for your age, and how much you could talk about pro wrestling – more than anyone else in that class, that’s for sure.  You were a bit of a freak, but I liked you.  I don’t think you’re lame, or were lame.”

“I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying,” he assured you.  “I’d never lie to you.  Trust me on that one.”

“I’d never lie to you, either,” you said, butterflies in your stomach. 

You were looking right in Tyson’s blue eyes then, hyperaware of the feeling of his fingertips grazing over the skin on your arm.  His sunkissed skin, his eye crinkles, the scruff of his beard – it all added up in making you push yourself up so you could kiss him.  It was very soft at first, but not hesitant, and when you pulled away you looked into his eyes, only to kiss him again. 

He kissed back, moving his lips in perfect sync with yours as you continued, kiss after kiss after kiss.  You don’t know how long you’d been kissing for, but eventually, it was your tongue that grazed his lips first, and soon you were tasting each other.  After more time, he pushed back slightly so you were on your back, and gently, gently he got on top of you. 

“Is this okay?” was the only thing he mumbled between when you started kissing and that moment. 

“Please, Ty,” you nodded your head slightly and quickly.  “We’ve been waiting all day.”

You both took it slow, surprisingly, despite all the pent up energy from the day.  You wanted to make it last.  Tyson’s body loomed over yours for a while, kissing your lips and your neck with such expertise you hadn’t experienced from anywhere else.  You remembered cradling his face and running your fingers through his curly hair and thinking to yourself how lucky you were to be under him, to be with him like this so intimately.  It wasn’t just that he’d been kind to you from the beginning, or that he’d taken you under his wing and acted as your mentor, especially in Japan, or that he’d looked out for you anywhere you found yourselves.  It was that he was so considerate in his everyday life, so wise and so funny – God, did he ever make you laugh – and so passionate about his dreams and goals.  A translation of that was happening right now, on a twin bed in a hotel room in Portofino, Italy.

Tyson had already been shirtless in bed, so all you really had to do was push down his boxers.  You could feel the length and size of him against your body then, and your breath could only hitch in your throat in anticipation of what was to happen very soon.  Your breathing got heavier as he helped you pull off your pyjama top, and you didn’t feel an ounce of self-consciousness as he looked down at your nearly naked body.  He brought his kisses down your chest and along both your breasts before pulling down your bottoms. 

He kissed you as he entered you, but you broke it as you let out a soft “Oh Jesus” at the feeling.  His lips left yours and looked into your eyes then, making sure everything was okay without even saying anything.  He grabbed each of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers before pushing them above your head, looking deep in to your eyes without looking away.  You began moaning softly, involuntarily, at the pressure you felt of him holding you in that position as he moved in and out of you, your hips crashing together with every one of his thrusts.  His eyes were blue – so blue – but you knew they were filled with fire.  You were sure that your moans got slightly louder as the time passed, mixed in with your pants of his name every time he hit just the right spot.

At some point he let go of your hands and they immediately went to cup his face, pulling him down to kiss you so you could stick your tongue down his throat again.  You didn’t stop kissing after that, your hands making their way up and down his torso, gripping on to his sides before moving up and settling underneath his arms and scratching at his shoulders and back.  You were in heaven.  Everything felt like pure bliss.  The endless kisses, the moans from you and the moans from him.  You had never felt anything so incredible in your life.

You noticed when Tyson’s breathing became more laboured, and you knew he was close.  You were too.  You dug your nails into his shoulders and tried to arch your hips just right.  Hearing him grunt and let out a string of expletives under his breath was all you needed to do it again.  “I’m so close,” you whispered, looking right into his eyes.

“Hazel…fuck…” was all he could let out.

“I want you to come inside me, Tyson.”

He didn’t last much longer after that, but he made sure you got there first.  He looked into your eyes the whole time as he watched your orgasm overcome you, coursing through your body and making you moan out his name and dig your nails into his biceps.  Only then did he allow himself his release, coming inside you, a series of grunts and moans of your name leaving him as he had his head buried in the crook of your neck.

You stayed together for a while, relishing in every last bit of what had just happened between you before Tyson couldn’t hold himself up on his forearms anymore.  There was one last, long kiss before he pulled out of you.  He lay by your side, still so close to your body.  You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, and when you turned your head to look at him, he had an identical smile on his face, too.

Despite earlier complaints from the both of you of being unable to fall asleep, you had no trouble doing so now, your eyes feeling heavy and fluttering until you fell into a peaceful sleep.

*

The next morning was quiet except for the sound of birds chirping outside your window.  The light was shining through from the morning sun, and when you opened your eyes and finally came to at least semi-consciousness, you saw and felt Tyson’s body underneath yours.  He had an arm wrapped around you and were using him as a pillow.

Memories of what happened last night flooded your mind as you waited for him to wake up.  From looking at the photos of the day to kissing him and then being under him, you remembered everything in vivid detail.  You hadn’t been part of something so passionate in your life.  It could have only happened with Tyson, too – you couldn’t picture it being with anyone else. 

After a while, you felt him shift underneath you and groan, bringing his free hand up to rub his eyes.  You began to trace shapes on his chest so he knew you were awake too.  When he looked at you, a small, tired smile played on his lips.  “Mornin’,” he whispered.  “You good?”

“I’m good,” you nodded.  “You sleep okay?”

“It was perfect.”

You smiled.  “Even with me hogging the covers?”

“You actually didn’t this time.  I was surprised,” he said, pulling your body so you were anchored right on top of his.  He wiggled a bit to get comfortable, shifting the beds.  “You were right about what you said last night, by the way.  We’d been waiting for a while.”

You bit your bottom lip, nodding slightly.  “You felt it too then, huh?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.  “Of course I did.”

There was silence between you.  Suddenly, a feeling came over you like lightning, seizing your whole body.  You never used to be like this, but once you lost your dad, your emotions sometimes came in quick rushes – tsunamis, you sometimes referred to them – and you could never stop it from happening.  You just had to learn how to deal with it, how to verbalize the emotion to solve it so you could go back to normal.  This time, it wasn’t one of self-consciousness, or full-blown anxiety, or fear of the unknown, or anything major.  It wasn’t even hesitation.  It was just a nervousness; a nervousness of the soul.  “This isn’t gonna change anything between us, is it?” you asked, verbalizing the first thing you became nervous about.  Not having Tyson in your life wasn’t an option at this point. 

“No,” he shook his head.  “No it won’t.”

“And this won’t – I mean, you’re not gonna think differently about me, are you?” you continued.  “Because I don’t – I know what it’s like for women in this business.  I don’t want anybody thinking of me differently because of what we did—”

“Hey hey hey, shhhhh,” Tyson cooed.  “Nobody’s going to think differently about you.  Don’t think that.  Nobody’s gonna know.  It’ll stay between you and me, Hazel.  I mean it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.  Not having the career you worked so hard to build also wasn’t an option at this point.  People not respecting you wasn’t an option in general.  You knew that respect would be gone if people knew you’d slept with your mentor.  You could already imagine the things that would be said.  You’d never earn anything on your own merit anymore; it would always be because you slept with Kenny Omega. 

“Hazel, I would never,” he shook his head.  “Like I said, we’d been waiting for a while.  It happened.  I don’t—I mean, I don’t think either of us regrets it—”

“—I don’t.”

“—Neither of us regrets it, but I don’t want anybody to know either.  Nobody has to know, anyway.  It’s nobody’s business but our own.”

That had calmed you down considerably.  You were thankful he was so level-headed, thankful that he was so private in his dealings and personal life that you honestly didn’t have to worry.  He wasn’t like so many others who would say one thing and do another; lead you on and then get with another girl.  You had no worries that any of your friends or fellow wrestlers would ever know.  You were able to keep your mouth shut.  So was Tyson.  “This is like Take This to Your Grave.  You know, like the Fall Out Boy album?” you couldn’t help but quip.

Tyson snorted, rolling his eyes.  “Hazel, were you even alive when that album came out?”

“HEY!” you jolted up, causing the beds to wiggle again.  “I’ll have you know that was a seminal album in my life.  “I was twelve and—”

“Oh my God, please stop talking right there,” he stressed.  “Do not say another word.”

You smirked.  “Did I just make you feel really o—”

“—Oh shit.”

You paused.  “What?”

“—ohshitohshitohshit—”

“—What?!—”

“—Hold on!”

Tyson wrapped both his arms around you protectively, and before you knew it, you both had fallen through the beds.  You yelped during the drop, but once you realized what had happened, you couldn’t stop laughing.  Tears were falling from your eyes, rolling off of Tyson as he groaned from the impact – he took the brunt of it after all. 

“Christ Almighty,” he grumbled through your hysterical laughs.  He couldn’t keep the smile off his face.  “That was worse than some bumps I’ve taken in the ring.”

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you managed to get out in a high-pitched voice between your hysterical laughter.  “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this hard in my life.”

“Yeah, funny for you because I saved you!”

You propped yourself up on your forearm.  Your cheeks were red from laughing, wet from the tears.  “Let me kiss you one last time to make it better.”  Except you didn’t wait.  You just lowered your face and planted your lips on his.  You didn’t know what you meant the kiss to be, but it lasted longer than anticipated, only stopping when the alert from Tyson’s phone went off.  Only then did you pull away.  “That must be Nick or Matt texting about breakfast.  We should clean ourselves up and go.”

Tyson didn’t say anything as he watched you rise from the floor, not bothering to wrap the top sheet or comforter around your naked body.  He stayed on the floor in between the beds as he heard the shower turn on, closing his eyes. 

***

28th May 2023

criticize the way you fly when you're soaring through the sky shoot you down and then they sigh and say, "she looks like she's been through it"

You always found Las Vegas to be way too hot.  It was a decent enough city, and you’d had some fun there, but the heat was always something you could never get over.  Double or Nothing meant that there were so many people and personalities at T-Mobile Arena.  You hung out mostly in the women’s locker room.  At least there, you knew you were safe.

“You haven’t run into him, have you?” Hikaru asked discreetly, chomping down on a baby carrot. 

You shook your head.  “Nah.  But I’ve kinda just been laying low in here.  I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.”

“That’s impossible,” Hikaru said.  “You can stay in here the whole night if you have to.  I mean, he’s gotta talk to Tyson about what’s happening in a few weeks, right?”

“Yeah.  Worst case scenario I walk in on them during that.”

“Well, if you do, you call me so I can whoop his ass for you.  It’s been a long time coming for that punk ass bitch.”

You couldn’t help but snort at her words.  She had obviously been informed well about the transgressions that had been committed and she was firmly Team Hazel.  Not that it was ever any doubt – you and Hikaru had been great friends ever since your days in Japan.  But the main different between you was that Hikaru would follow through – if she said she was going to whoop someone’s ass, she’d whoop someone’s ass.  You’d mostly just cry about it in an abandoned washroom and in a hotel room afterwards.  It was your specialty.

“You’ve always been my girl, Hikaru.  What would I do without you?” you quipped with a smile.

Hikaru smirked.  “Don’t even go there, girl.  It all comes from here, by the way,” she said, pounding lightly on her chest where her heart was.  “I got you, Hazel.  You want me to grab you something from catering?”

You shook your head, standing up from your chair.  “I shouldn’t be afraid to go get food,” you said.  “You want more carrots?”

Your walk to catering was eventful, having a chat with Christopher Daniels along the way.  Once you got there, you grabbed a plate of food, some Gatorade, and a Greek salad.  You didn’t see Tony Schiavone creep up behind you, but he was a welcome partner to chat with as he picked up some dinner too.  The two of you walked through the halls together, chatting like old friends as your food got cold.  You didn’t really care, because every chat with Tony was so lively, and he expressed serious interest in appearing on Kick Out in the Kitchen.  When you said goodbye as Tony disappeared into one of the guys’ locker rooms, Greg left the one across the way.  The door was slow to close.  You’d think for all the money Las Vegas had, doors would close properly in their arena.

“Right, and so many people shat on her even though it wasn’t her fault,” you heard an all-too-familiar voice from the locker room.  “She got heat for it for months.  She’d be crying every night because all the shitty girls didn’t want to wrestle her.  And when she got to Japan, she already had a reputation.  Took a lot of convincing to get her into promotions.  Bea knew what she was doing in the ring but she got such a bad rap.”

“But you guys broke up a while ago, no?” said another voice.

“Mistakes happen in the ring all the time,” you heard one more voice.

“All the time,” the familiar voice said.  Then a giggle.  “It’d be much harder now to pick her up and drop her on her head, if you know what I mean.”

Everyone in the room, whoever they were, were giggling.  Snickering, even, at his comment about your body.  You froze in place, and by the time their conversation started up again, the door had finally closed, their voices gone.

Your body had inevitably gone through a change after you were forced to stop wrestling.  You had been in such great shape – you had to be, for heaven’s sake – and had worked out often.  But once you broke your neck and had to get the fusion surgery, most of it had to stop.  It might put too much stress on your neck in ways you never thought possible, your doctor said.  And truth be told, you were too scared to do anything too tenuous, because like the doctor told you, you should have suffocated to death in the ring and it was a miracle you were even walking in the first place.  This meant that you had gained weight – about thirty pounds, when all was said and done.  But because of your physique beforehand, it was noticeable.  You didn’t look like a wrestler with muscles and abs anymore, but you still looked like, well, a normal woman with some meat on her bones.  You weren’t unrecognizable.  Nobody cared, nobody commented on it.

Except, apparently, Will Ospreay. 

You don’t know what came over you, but you dropped everything but the Gatorade into the next trashcan you saw.  You felt that if you ate anything, it would just come back up.  That’s how much your stomach was in knots at his comment.  And the laughs.  God, you wished you had just barged in to see who was laughing at the comment, at your body.  Nobody had any idea what you went through, and how bad you took the news that you could never wrestle again.  It ate away at you for months, years even, and now these men were laughing about how your body had changed because of that life-altering event?  Fuck them.  And fuck Will Ospreay.

The same Will Ospreay that had endeared you when you were younger.  The same Will Ospreay that you fancied, that kissed you and made out with you and strung you along for months, always saying no to firm commitment but always calling you late at night to hook up or have fun.  The same Will Ospreay who told you that you could be clingy and overbearing despite not being clingy or overbearing.  The same Will Ospreay that led you on, letting you believe you were the only one.  The same Will Ospreay that sent you a simple text when you had broken your neck and never paid you a visit.  The same Will Ospreay that began hooking up with Bea so soon afterwards that you were sure there was overlap.  The same Will Ospreay that began to date her only a few weeks after your surgery, her smug smile on every uploaded picture only a reminder to you of what had happened in your personal and professional life.  The same Will Ospreay that you fucking hated with everything in you.

You escaped into a washroom, again, and checked every stall to ensure it was empty, again.  God, you felt like you were going to do this every show now.  You didn’t cry this time.  Instead, you began rubbing at your tattoo on the inside of your right wrist: a chef’s knife that you got in memory of you dad.  You made sure to breathe in and out, in and out, in and out.  Closing your eyes, you thought back to the first few months after your neck surgery.  The first few weeks were hard.  You had cried a lot, and you hated your neck brace.  You remember finding out the news about Will and Bea and basically becoming a vegetable in your bed.  The two weeks that Tyson came to stay with you made everything better, but there was one moment that stuck out, that you remembered so vividly.

Tyson had made lunch one day, some chicken thighs and vegetables and he plated some old pasta salad in your fridge.  You were excited to eat, but when you tried gripping on to your fork and knife, you couldn’t.  A common side effect after neck surgery, especially neck surgery like yours, but it hadn’t happened to you yet.  You thought you were over that hurdle, that it would have happened right after your surgery.  You tried again.  You couldn’t.  You tried just the fork, in your right hand, and you managed to keep it in your hand instead of having it fall on the table.  But when you tried to fork a piece of pasta, you couldn’t at all, and your fork fell loudly into your plate.  You started sobbing like a baby.  Tyson rushed over to you – he had been preparing drinks – and asked what was wrong.  You explained through tears and he could barely understand you.  You had lost your appetite you were so distraught.  But then Tyson – bless him – got you to calm down enough that you weren’t a sobbing mess.  He picked up your fork, got a couple of vegetables on it, and held it up near your mouth to feed you.

“Tys…” you remember being on the verge of tears again.  You felt like a fucking baby having somebody feed you.

“Eat, Hazel.  I got you.”

You almost didn’t, because you were too proud.  But when you saw the look on his face, and how he was looking at you, you opened your mouth and ate the food.  You chewed it slowly, embarrassed that it had come to this.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“You’re feeding me like I’m a baby.  This is embarrassing.”

Tyson shook his head.  “This is not embarrassing at all,” he said before forking some chicken.  “What would be embarrassing is if you made me do an airplane to get you to eat.”

He always knew how to get you to smile, even at your lowest point.  You opened your mouth again to eat the chicken.  “Hey Tyson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.  I mean it.”

Tyson cut up and fed you your entire meal, even gripping your glass for you to drink, before eating himself.  And a few days later, when it happened again, he did it all again without hesitation.  That’s what Tyson had done for you.  That’s what made you realize he would be in your life forever.  And those men in that locker room were laughing.

***

Tyson always made decisions for the good of his company – the company that he helped create and build from the ground up.  Whatever was good for the company was good for him.  Whatever made his friends money and got fans in seats.  That meant that despite his personal feelings towards Will Ospreay, he was working him again at Forbidden Door in Toronto.  They had faced each other earlier in the year at Wrestle Kingdom, for the good of New Japan Pro Wrestling.  Now he’d be facing him for the good of All Elite Wrestling.  Tyson was able to keep his feelings quite personal, never letting anybody know what he really thought or felt. 

Everybody except the two guys who could read him like a book.

Matt and Nick looked on as he spoke with Will about their match in Toronto.  Tyson would be dropping the title – he knew that already – but they were going over spots, storyline, and emotion.  Will focused on spots, but Tyson was focusing on emotion.  What was the story?  What story did Tyson want to tell?

“What do you think about a big spot, like—”

“Another big spot?  Haven’t we got enough big spots?” Tyson quipped.

“Listen, I was thinking of a Tiger Driver—”

“—Oh fuck—” a female voice exclaimed.

Everybody’s heads turned to the doorway to see Hazel popping in her head.  Tyson, Will, Matt, Nick, Austin, Chris Daniels – everyone looked at her.  Tyson noticed her stare fixed on Will before looking at him.  He knew that this was the one thing she didn’t want to happen.  Running into Will.  “Um, I’m sorry to interrupt—”

“—It’s okay sweetcheeks—” Matt offered.

“—I’m gonna, um, bring Hikaru back to the hotel when everything is over, so don’t worry.  Bye.”

She shut the door abruptly.  The men in the room stayed silent for a few moments before stealing quick glances at each other.  Austin looked over at Tyson first, but wasn’t able to read the emotion on his face.  Nick and Matt looked at Tyson too, but he was as stoic as a rock.  Will had already shrugged his shoulders and discounted the experience.  “Anyone else see how her eyes were watery?” Chris Daniels commented.

“Probably emotional because she knows we’re losing tonight,” Nick tried to cover quickly.  He didn’t want to speculate in a room full of men why Hazel Fiore looked like she was tearing up.  It was nobody’s business.  Especially not with Will in the room.

“She’s always been emotional,” Will commented, as if he was an authority on the issue.  Like he had the right to speak about her in any capacity.  “It’s like, you kinda feel bad, but you also understand why, y’know?  She’s got major daddy issues.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tyson’s response was literally automatic upon hearing the words come out of Will’s mouth, his tone scathing and unlike anything any of the other men had ever heard before.  Will looked at him, shocked, as if he hadn’t said anything wrong, even though Matt and Nick had also voiced their displeasure with words Tyson couldn’t hear through his anger and disgust.  “Seriously, what’s your fucking problem?” he followed up on a dumbfounded Will. 

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“Who the fuck says that about a girl who lost her dad at fifteen to cancer,” Tyson’s voice was still calm but full of disgust.  “It’s so fucking insensitive.  How could you even say that?”

“Ty, come on—”

“—Just fuck off, Will.  Seriously, fuck off,” he stood up from his seat and waved Will off, shaking his head.    “Get out of my fucking locker room.  I swear to God.  I know a lot of dumb fucks, Will, but you just might be the dumbest.”

“Ty—”

“You’re winning the belt in Toronto, so do however many spots you fuckin’ like.  Maybe now at least one of your five star matches will be memorable because I’m in it.  Now get out,” his tone was angrier and threatening.

Will left with a scowl on his face.  All the men in the room watched Tyson as he paced back and forth.  When he noticed Chris look at him, he stopped abruptly.  “What?”

“Nothing.  You did the right thing.”

***

“Please go away.  You’re going to think I’m a big baby.  That I’m still as lame as I was when you first met me,” you bemoaned, Tyson refusing to move from his heat on the edge of the bed.  “I’m serious.  Go to Wendy’s with the Bucks.  Get me a Frosty.  Be anywhere but here so you don’t have to see me like this.”

“Why?  Because I haven’t seen you like this before?” he countered, making you fall silent.  He had seen you like this many times before, but it was still unnerving, still a bit embarrassing to be a 31-year-old woman still emotional about something that happened seven years ago.  And to be like this over a guy you had actively – and successfully – avoided seeing for those seven years?  “C’mon, Haze.  Give me a little bit of credit.”

You sighed, taking a deep breath as you looked him in the eye.  “I don’t mean it like that,” your voice was small.  “I don’t mean to make you mad—”

“—You’re not making me mad—”

“—I just don’t want my problems becoming your problems.  You deal with enough shit already.  You got bit by an adult human male, Tyson.”

The both of you couldn’t help but snort.  The situation had to be lightened slightly.  “Come on.  Tell me.”

You sighed again.  “Something happened earlier in the night, before I walked in on you guys in the locker room.  I had gone to catering and was speaking with Tony and then when he went into his locker room, Greg was leaving the one across.  And while the door was open, I just…you know, heard some stuff.”

Tyson furrowed his brows.  “Stuff?  What stuff?”

“I kinda just overheard him talking.  I don’t know what his breakup with Bea was like, and I really don’t care, but uhhh, he was telling them some sob story about how much heat she got for what she did to me and how it affected their relationship, and he just made this comment, like, ‘It’d be much harder now to pick her up and drop her on her head, if you know what I mean’, and—”

Tyson didn’t even say anything, but you had to stop talking because he stood up at lightning speed and began making his way towards the door.  “Tyson—”

“—Do not stop me.”

Tyson was fast, but you were faster.  You slipped right by him and barricaded the door dramatically, like you were holding him hostage.  You kind of feel like you had to now, based on what you’d just told him.  “Nope.  You’re not leaving this hotel room—”

“—Yes I fucking am—”

“—No, you’re not, because that’s not even the worst part.”

He stepped back.  It was like he couldn’t comprehend what you’d just said.  “What do you mean that’s not even the worst part?” his voice got high pitched.

“Go back to the bed—”

“—Hazel—”

“Go back to the bed, now, or else,” you threatened.  You had nothing to threaten him with at all, but you were serious.  You didn’t want drama, or commotion, or anything of the sort.  Tyson had been through enough over the last year that you thought he should be done for the rest of his life.  There was no reason for him to take this on as his own, to defend whatever honour you had left – if you had any at all. 

You laid one of your hands on his forearm to calm him down.  “It got worse because once he said it, I heard people laughing,” you explained.  You felt him shift, his arm twitching in anger, but it was subtle.  “And I know you’re going to ask who it was, but I don’t know.  I didn’t go in there to see or to yell at them or whatever else.  I just took my dinner and chucked it into the closest garbage can and just…” you trailed off.  “You just…you can’t imagine how awful it feels to be a woman and have your colleagues, your supposed friends, whoever they were, laughing at a joke about your body.  It’s soul-crushing.  And I just…you know,” you shrugged, unable to find the words.  “After everything I’ve been through, I still let this bullshit get to me.”

Tyson pulled you into him to hug you, wrapping his giant arms around you just like he used to during your first visit to Japan, just like he used to after big matches after his shower, just like he always did, really.  Tyson gave the best hugs.  When he engulfed you, it was like all your problems just washed away and you were cleansed.  It was like you were back in the waters of Portofino holding on to him, not wanting to let go.  “D’you remember when I stayed with you those two weeks after your neck surgery and I had to feed you?”

“Of course, Ty.  I actually thought about it after I heard the laughing.  I’d never forget that.”

“Just remember that,” he encouraged.  “Just remember everything I’d do for you before you let anyone of those fuckers get in your head.”

You waited for Tyson to wash his face to put on your pyjamas before the both of you got into bed.  You wondered if he’d get close at all, possibly even touch you, but the second you were both laying down, your question was answered.  His body moved towards yours like a fight-or-flight response, one of his arm draping over your body.  He curled up right against your back, like the big spoon, your body nestling perfectly into his.  Memories flooded his mind.  Memories of the G1 Climax Tournament he won.

In the quietness of the room, with the low hum of the air conditioner the only noise, Tyson placed a kiss on your shoulder.  He didn’t say anything, but he knew you felt it. 

For him, it was getting harder and harder to control.

***

TOKYO 2016

i said remember this moment in the back of my mind the time we stood with our shaking hands, the crowds in stands went wild

You know you will remember the moment vividly as you watch it happen.  You will remember the finished move and how Tyson pinned his opponent.  You will remember the bell ringing after the referee’s hand hit the mat three times.  You will remember the roar of the crowd and the excitement in everybody’s eyes to see the first ever gaijin win the G1 Climax.  You will remember how gruelling of a month it was for Tyson, how emotionally draining it had been.  You will remember it all culminating in this moment.  Of him winning.  Of him making history.

You weren’t able to see him right away.  There were in-ring celebrations and post-match press conferences to be had, and various people from New Japan saw him first.  You had to be on standby, and you could have chewed your nails off waiting.  Even when the suits finished, the handler from New Japan made you wait an additional ten minutes just to see him.

You knocked lightly on his door before peeping your head in.  He was sitting on a giant production case, the tournament trophy beside him.  His legs were dangling off the edge, not touching the floor.  Not many things could make him look small.  He looked your way and when he saw you, the most tired of smiles appeared on his face.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he nodded quickly, and you slipped in before shutting the door behind you.  “What did you think?”

“I think you’re incredible,” you said, approaching him and standing in front of him.  Your eyes scanned over the trophy briefly before you focused your attention back on him.  “Has it sunk in yet for you?  That you just made history?”

He took a few breaths, shaking his head slightly.  “No.  I guess I did, didn’t I?  First gaijin to win the G1.  I can say that now.”

“Doesn’t it feel amazing?” you asked.

“I’m so tired and drained that I don’t know what amazing feels like right now,” he said, causing you both to laugh slightly.  “I think tomorrow morning as I’m eating breakfast it’s gonna hit me like a ton of bricks.”

You couldn’t help but smile, stepping closer to him so you were standing between his spread legs.  You don’t know what came over you, but seeing him the way he was – in his gear, beside the giant G1 Climax trophy, still trying to catch his breath, the weight of what just happened and what it meant looming over the both of you…you really don’t know what came over you. 

You kissed him.  You held his big, sweaty head in your hands and you kissed him.  Only a couple of seconds after it began, you realized what you were doing and you pulled away.  “Shitsorry—sorry—” you began mumbling and apologizing quickly.

“—It’s okay—”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry Tys—”

“—Hazel, it’s alright.  It’s okay.”

You put your fingers over your lips, as if that would stop it from happening again.  A physical barrier is what you needed, apparently.  Not a mental one.  You looked in each other’s eyes before one of his characteristic close-lipped smiles spread across his face.  “I’m very happy you’re here,” he whispered.  “I really—I really like you being here.”

“I think you’re just saying that because I act like an idiot and provide you entertainment,” you said, trying to make light of what just happened.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot at all,” he shook his head only slightly, not able to do much else with his body after what had just transpired in the ring.  “Please stop thinking that.”

“I bet you do secretly.”

“No,” he was firmer in his tone this time.  “I know a lot of dumb people, and you’re not one of them.”

Before you could say anything else, there was another knock at the door.  You stepped away from being so close to Tyson.  He looked extremely annoyed.  A man began speaking in Japanese from the other side of the door, and Tyson answered back while rolling his eyes.  The door closed before you even understood what was going on.  “Sorry.”

“What was that about?”

“Driver wanted to know how much longer.  I told him fifteen minutes so I could shower.”

“It’s okay,” you said, nodding your head once.  “Go shower.  We—I’ll meet you in the car.  I know you’re tired, so we’ll celebrate tomorrow.”

The driver drove you both to a local hotel near Ryogoku Kokugikan, the company deciding to put everybody up in the hotel since they wanted to film a press conference tomorrow afternoon.  You checked into your respective rooms, which were only down the hall from each other.  But as you were getting ready for bed, your phone buzzed on your bathroom vanity.

Neck hurts like a motherfucker.

Colour me shocked, Ty.  Are you okay?Do you want me to drop by?  I have some Rub A535.

What are you, my dad?

You rolled your eyes at his response.  He was the geriatric one.

Has neck pain, still acts like a pain in the ass.

You threw on a robe and made sure to grab your key card before making your way over to his room.  You knocked quietly and he opened not long after.  You let yourself in.  “Seriously, Rub A535?  You’re an old man.”

“I bet it’s like looking into a mirror then, eh?” you countered.

Tyson’s jaw dropped.  “You jezebel!”

You both broke out into laughter, making your way further into his room.  You threw your robe onto the extra bed.  He was wearing an old, stupid pair of shorts to sleep in.  “Sit,” you said as you got on his bed.  “Show me where it’s hurting.  I can try to massage it.”

“Are you licensed?  Can I claim you on my insurance?”

You gave him a look.  “Do you want my help or not!”

He giggled, sitting himself on the edge of the bed.  “Right up over here,” he showed you with his hand, “and over here.  Just be careful though, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” both of your voices were calm at this point.  There was no room for joking around.  “You have to tell me if I’m hurting you,” you warned, with Tyson nodding his head.

You began massaging the first place he showed you, and almost the second you applied pressure, Tyson groaned.  He encouraged you to keep going, that it felt good.  “You know, this wouldn’t be happening to you if you didn’t keep landing on your neck all the time,” you whispered.

“What fun would that be?” he asked.  You shook your head.

Your continued massaging, being as careful as you could, moving on to the other areas that he pointed out to you.  You could hear his little satisfied exhales, the little groans he let out when you hit a spot well.  You switched back and forth between the spots for a while, Tyson appreciating every minute.  You didn’t know if he could feel how close you got once you really got into it, or if he could feel your breath on his neck.  But you were happy you were making him feel better, happy you were with him and his beautiful soul on the biggest night of his career thus far. 

“Ah shit,” you almost didn’t hear him swear under his breath.

You pulled your hands back towards your chest.  “Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“No no, it’s okay, keep going,” he urged.

“Tys—”

“It wasn’t you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You stayed silent, exhaling slightly before continuing to massage over near his shoulder as you had been, being a little more careful.  You would never be able to forgive yourself if you had hurt him somehow.  He winced at some points and groaned in others, like he had been when you focused on his neck, but you could still tell something was up.  When you looked over his shoulder, you could see him trying discreetly to adjust his shorts, pulling some of the fabric forward as if he was trying to hide or cover something. 

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you kept massaging, garnering another groan from him.  You took your time getting closer and closer to him until you were positive he could feel your breath on his skin.  “Don’t worry about it, Ty,” you whispered in his ear in a knowing tone.  “It’s okay.”

He shook his head slightly.  You were positive the redness you saw in his cheeks wasn’t from the increased blood flow to his neck and shoulders.  “No it’s not.  It’s embarrassing.  This is, like, what happens with pervs.”

“It’s not embarrassing.  It happens.  Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize about,” you assured him.  By this point, you had stopped paying attention to your massaging and had no idea if what you were doing even helped.  You were too busy looking over his shoulder, trying to see through his shorts.  You inhaled quietly.  “D’you want me to take care of it?”

Tyson shook his head, still embarrassed.  “No no no.  Gosh Hazel, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’ll do it, Ty.  I don’t mi—”

“—Hazel…” there was a hesitation in his voice.

There was a pause as your back and forth hung in the air.  “Is it cause you don’t want me to?”

He shook his head.  “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” you asked, bringing your lips down to kiss his shoulder.

He stayed silent.  He was almost ashamed because he couldn’t say anything out loud.  How could he?  He knew what he wanted to say, he just couldn’t say it.  He couldn’t let you know; it had to stay inside him.  For his good.  For your good.  He felt you kiss his shoulder again and he inhaled.  “Hazel…”

“Remember Portofino?”

He couldn’t help the small smile that spread on his lips.  “Of course.”

You kissed your way from his shoulder to where it met his neck.  “Do you really not want to?  Cause I’ll stop,” you whispered in his ear.

Tyson shook his head.  He could do many things, but he couldn’t deny this right now.  “I just…I can barely move.”

“You don’t have to,” you assured him.  “I’ll take care of it.”

“Haze…”

“Shhhh…” you cooed, kissing his neck.  “Lie down.”

“Haze—you don’t—I don’t want you to think you have to do that.”

“I want to, Tyson.  I feel safest with you.”

He didn’t lie down just yet.  Instead, he pulled you on to his lap and began kissing you.  You straddled him as you kissed him back, feeling his hands go to your thighs and travel around to your ass, squeezing the flesh there.  You could barely let go of him as his tongue entered your mouth.  Your hands wandered between his toned body and his hair, gripping it at the nape of his neck.  He was so much bigger now, so much bigger than you remember him being.  You didn’t know how long you just sat there making out for, but your lips felt swollen when you stopped, even if it just was momentarily.  “Ty?” you breathed out, feeling his length between your legs.

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to be inside me or in my mouth?”

“Shit Hazel,” he swore underneath his breath.  The way you worded the question almost made him come right then and there.  “In—inside you.”

You gave him a quick kiss.  “Lie down.”

He listened this time, and you both moved to better positions on the bed, him lying down like you demanded.  You helped him out of his shorts, freeing his hard cock.  You took off your own pyjama bottoms, but Tyson raised his arms so he could slide your panties down your legs.  You kissed a trail down his chest before straddling him again.  You reached down between you and positioned his cock so he could enter you, and you lowered on to him slowly, having to adjust to his size.  “Fuck Ty,” you couldn’t help but breath out along the way.  When you bottomed out, a shiver ran up your spine.

“Jesus, Hazel,” he breathed out.  “Fuck, that feels so good.”

You knew he could barely move, and you knew you’d be the one putting in most of the work here, so you took a few more moments to adjust before you began rolling your hips back and forth slowly.  Tyson watched and his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the visual.

You took your time getting into a rhythm, wanting this to last as long as it could.  The last time, in Portofino, your body had been buzzed from being out in the sun all day.  This time around, the both of you were exhausted, but that didn’t mean there was any less energy between you two, or any less love.  You would do anything for Tyson, and Tyson would do anything for you.  So you were taking it gently, and you were taking it slowly, but you knew it would feel just as good as Portofino did two years ago, just as perfect as it did then too, despite nothing happening since.

Tyson’s hands were placed firmly on your thighs at first, before they moved to your hips and followed your movements loosely.  You placed your hands over his, intertwining your fingers slightly.  “Y’okay, Ty?”

“You feel fucking incredible,” he whispered.

“You want me to take my top off?”

“Yes please.”

You giggled at his request of please.  So polite.  You could take the boy out of Canada, but you couldn’t take Canada out of the boy.  You led his hands from your hips all the way up your body, dragging your shirt long with it, before he pulled it off entirely and tossed it to the side.  Your breasts were exposed then, and all it took was the sight of them to give Tyson a burst of energy, moving to sit up.  One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you down on his cock as he attacked your lips with his.  He cupped your breast, which overflowed even in his big hands.  You moaned into his kisses, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck again.  Your fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulder blades where you had been massaging earlier.  “Ty…” you whispered out as he moved from your lips to your neck.  “Ty, lie down.  I got you.  I told you I’d take care of you.”

“You’re so beautiful, Hazel.”

A shiver ran up your spine hearing those words.  You pushed him back down before placing your hands on his chest for leverage as you began to roll your hips again.  Your breathing got heavier; so did his.  You savoured every moment of being on top of him, having his amazing body underneath you as you worked to pleasure the both of you.  You were completely drunk on him, willing that this exact feeling could last forever. 

Tyson had gotten more vocal the longer you two went on.  Between the sight of you on top of him and the feeling of him inside you, he was close.  It didn’t help that he’d gotten a head start during the massage.  “You’re gonna make me come.”

You were desperate – you could admit that.  You didn’t want it to end.  He felt too good inside of you.  You felt too connected to him to have it be over, regardless of how long you’d been riding him.  You couldn’t even keep track or have any idea because you were so wrapped up in the feeling of him.  “No,” you shook your head, biting your bottom lip.  “No, not yet.”

Tyson couldn’t believe what he’d heard.  “What?”

“Not yet,” you repeated more emphatically.  “Want more.  Need more.”

A shiver ran up his spine hearing those words.  It took everything in him not to come then and there.  Instead, he began to move his hips along with yours, and you could automatically feel the difference.  Your moaning got louder.  Tyson almost couldn’t take it.  “You’re getting so deep, Ty.”

“Keep going, baby.”

You clenched when the words left his mouth.  Your hips kept rolling, your clit rubbing against his body as his cock was hitting you so deep and at the perfect angle.  After a while longer, you found yourself getting closer, as you were sure he was hitting your G-spot.  “Ty…oh fuck Ty—I—I—”

You couldn’t say anything else as the most intense orgasm you’d ever felt washed over your entire body.  Your entire body shook with pleasure – you could even feel it in your fucking toes.  You had never felt anything like it before and oh my God, was it glorious.  You swore you could see stars as you clenched around him, repeating his name over and over like a prayer.  At some point, it was all too much for you, and you felt yourself collapsing on to him.  Your breasts were between your bodies, pressing against him as he held you down with his arms.  As he pumped in and out of you, you could feel his release too, his groans and how you felt full from him. 

You felt empty when he slipped out of you, but you kissed him to make up for it, kiss after kiss after kiss.  Were you being sappy?  Both times this had ended up happening, it was truly spur of the moment.  But during both times, there had been so much pent up energy between you that it could only culminate in something like this.  And during both times, you didn’t want them to end.  You knew you’d remember every detail.

In between kisses, you couldn’t help yourself.  “Love you, Ty.”

“Love you too, Hazel,” he responded right after.  It was only then that you heard the true fatigue in his voice. 

He didn’t let go of you as you rolled off him and onto his side.  You were both on your sides now, and he pulled you up against his chest.  All of his muscles, tired and overused as they were, pressed into your back as he tucked his head against your shoulder.  Before the fatigue finally consumed him, he placed a kiss on your shoulder; you brought his hand up and kissed it too, finally drifting off to sleep.

*

The next morning, Tyson could barely move.  He’d need help getting out of bed.  But that was typical.  What really mattered wasn’t his pain or how stiff some of his joints were.  What really mattered was that he was still in bed, with you, looking into your eyes.  One of your hands was playing with his hair.  One of his hands was drawing circles along the skin on your arm.  You were both quiet.  You were both in the moment, since you didn’t have to be anywhere else for a while. 

“You’re career’s about to take off in ways we never would have thought,” you barely whispered.  You wondered if the weight of what he had accomplished last night had finally hit him.  “Are you gonna remember little ol’ me when you’re rich and famous?”

The smallest of smiles cracked on his lips.  “Duh.  You’re unforgettable.” 

“A lot of things are gonna change you, and I want you to know that I think you deserve all the good things coming to you.  Whatever they are,” you continued.  “You know that, right?”

“I do,” he said.  “But it’s not all about me.  You’re going to do some pretty big things too.  Stardom’s gonna shoot you to the moon because you deserve it.  And what’s happening in California when you go back?”

“I’ve got a match with Candice, and a match with Bea Priestley again.  Let’s hope I don’t walk out with another broken sternum.”

“You’re gonna knock both out of the park, because you always do.  Then everybody’s gonna be clamouring for you.  There’s going to be bidding wars over you,” he assured you.  “You’re just as good as I am.  If not better.”

“Oh stop,” you said, blushing and embarrassed at his words.  You buried your face into the pillow so you didn’t have to look at him.  You could feel him move, sticking his face into the crook of your neck as he kissed along it.

“I mean it, Haze,” he mumbled against your temple between kisses. 

When you raised your head back up, he peppered your face with light pecks before giving you quick kisses on your lips.  When you stopped kissing, you took in the silence between you.  “Hey Tys…”

“Hmm?”

Your hand moved to caress his face along his beard.  “I wasn’t—I didn’t just, like, blurt out the words last night and didn’t mean them,” you stuttered out.  “I do love you.  In my own way.”

“I know,” he said.  “I meant what I said last night too.  That I’m very happy you’re here.  That I like you being here with me.  And that I love you.”

“But you don’t…even after what happened in Portofino, we can’t do much more than this, can we?” you asked.  Secret little love affairs.  One-off passionate nights after emotionally charged moments that brought you closer together, closer than you ever thought you’d ever get with your mentor, your best friend, your person. 

His heart broke.  Again, he was ashamed because he couldn’t say anything out loud.  He couldn’t let you know; it had to stay inside him.  For his good and for your good.  “It’s not the right time,” he said instead.

Your heart didn’t break.  It had no reason to.  He was right, but you didn’t want to admit it.  “Not—not that anything would change but if—if—do you think it ever will be the right time in the future?”

He felt his stomach in knots.  He answered with the only answer he could give.

“I don’t know.”

*

A few weeks later, when Matt and Nick were back in Japan, they would watch intently as Tyson was glued to his phone.  They’d give each other a look that Tyson wouldn’t see, and then they’d go about their business, eating their ice cream or searching for directions to a coffee shop.  But one night, after they walked into Tyson’s hotel room at the tail end of an hour-long phone call, Nick made the executive decision.

“Sorry.  It was Hazel,” Tyson said once he hung up.

“Figured as much.  You don’t talk to anyone else on the phone that long but us and her,” Nick smirked.

Tyson shrugged.  “Yeah, well…”

“She doing okay?”

“She’s fine.”

“How was it when she was over here?” Matt piped in.

Tyson was avoiding eye contact.  “It was nice,” he kept his answers simple.  “Nice that I had someone here with me for winning the G1, you know.”  Despite being some of his best friends, they didn’t know what had happened in Italy, and they weren’t going to know about what happened after the G1.

“Mmmhhhmmm,” Nick nodded.  “Must’ve been.”

“Are you gonna tell her how you feel?” Matt asked, getting straight to the point.  “She’s gottta know, Ty.”

Tyson shook his head.  Those observant little fuckers.  “No.”

Nick grimaced.  “Why not?”

Tyson took a deep breath, sighing afterwards.  “It’s just easier if she doesn’t.  Even if it rips me apart.”

***

25th June 2023

you say, "i don't understand," and i say, "i know you don't" we thought a cure would come through in time, now, i fear it won't

You watched with tears in your eyes as the trainer attended to Tyson after his match with Will, going through concussion protocol and range of motion exercises to ensure everything was okay and that nothing was broken.  Tyson sat their quietly, complying with everything, moving his shoulders and legs, blinking once and then twice, maintaining focus then following a light, stretching his neck back and forth and side to side.  That was the most important exercise of all, after what had happened in the ring.  After he didn’t tell you one of the most important spots in the match.

“Everything looks completely fine, Mr. Smith,” the head trainer said, finally, much to everybody’s relief.  Everybody except you.

“God Ty, that Tiger Driver looked brutal,” Nick said.  “Helluva spot, but brutal nonetheless.”  Of course he would say that.

“I thought it looked incredible,” Matt pitched in.  “If anybody could have done it and taken it correctly, it was you.”  Of course he would say that.

“That’ll grab the headlines,” Christopher Daniels said.  Of course he would say that.

“Leave the really big spots for a Canada, huh?” Stephen joked.  Of course he would say that.

It was then that Tyson locked eyes with you – you, staying completely silent across the way of the room, though you knew by now your face was probably beet red with emotion.  You had so much emotion stored inside of you, from the beginning of the match until now, and you didn’t know when it was going to burst.  Forty minutes of your heart being in the pit of your stomach.

Tyson finally noticed.

“Can everyone just…” he began, sighing and trailing off before recollecting his thoughts.  “Just give me a couple of minutes – alone, please,” he ordered, albeit politely.  Everybody stood silent, awkwardly.  “Now guys.  Come on.  Everyone out.”

You didn’t move, but everyone else did.  When they were all out, and you were all alone with Tyson, that’s when all the emotion stored inside of you came out.  One of your tsunamis.  Now.  Of all times it could happen.

“What’s the matter?  What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

His tone meant that the first few tears escaped.  You shook your head vehemently.  “No—no—no—”

“—Hazel—”

“—No—”

“Hazel, c’mere…c’mere,” he cooed.  Even reluctantly, you went over to him, sitting across from him on the medical table.  He grabbed your hands in his.  You weren’t expecting that, but you were shaking, and he probably wanted to stop that.  “What’s the matter?”

“Your neck, your neck,” you kept repeating through your tears.

“My neck is fine—”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing this fucking shit, Tyson?” you demanded, tears fully streaming down your face now.  “Do you think I like seeing your body torn up by a cage?  That I like seeing you be dropped on your fucking head?  And by him?”

“Haze, I’m sor—”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it this time!” you exclaimed, pulling your hands away from his.  You wiped the tears from your eyes.  “You’re Kenny fucking Omega.  Your worst match is still ninety five percent better than everybody else’s best matches yet you still think you have to do this—this—this absolutely insane shit.  For what?  What’s it all for, Tyson?  You’re already the best in the world.  You’re already a legend.”

“I’m perfecting my craft, Hazel.  You know that.  We talk about it all the time.  This is everything to me.  I left my family, my friends – I moved to a foreign country and was fucking alone for years so I could be at the top.  Every sacrifice I’ve made has been in the name of pro-wrestling because there can’t be a question about whether or not I’m the best.  That’s it, Hazel.  That’s it.”

You absorbed his words, each one of them hitting you like a dagger.  You sat there silently, looking deep into his eyes.  “Is that really all that matters to you?  Is that it?”

You could see the look in his eyes.  You could see the change in his face.  He wanted to say something.  He was so close to saying something.  He was going to say something.  But you couldn’t hear how he would respond to your question – at least not right now.  The door handle being jerked loudly from the outside interrupted your conversation, and when you both looked the way of the door, you saw one person walking through it.

Will fucking Ospreay.

Okay, now you were livid.

“Don’t you know how to fucking knock?” you demanded, not caring how rude you sounded.  You stood up from where you were sitting across from Tyson.

Will’s face scrunched up.  “Who pissed in your cereal?”

“YOU!” you screamed.  “You, you fucking idiot!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?  I came in to see Tyson, not you—”

“Well you’re going to see me anyway!”

“Will you calm down—”

“—Do not tell me to calm down,” you warned.  “What is it?  Huh?  You want to do the same thing to his neck that your ex-girlfriend did to mine?”  Will’s brows furrowed with that rhetorical question.  You didn’t even bother to wait for him to retort.  You just kept going.  “You know what, actually?  This is a perfect opportunity.  Finally you can see it in the flesh,” you turned around, gathered your hair in your hand, and lifted it up.  Your scar was on full display for Will, who diverted his eyes the second he saw it.  “Four screws, one rod, and sixteen staples fixed your girlfriend’s mistake.  I should have suffocated and died in that ring and you didn’t even have the decency to check in on me.  And you want to know why I’m so upset?”

Will clenched his jaw.  “Listen, I’m sorry that happened, but—”

“You’re not sorry it happened,” you interrupted him.  “You want me to believe you’re sorry when you were joking with your friends in the locker room in Vegas about how it would be much harder now to pick me up and drop me on my head?”

It was the first time during your spat that you saw Will’s face drop – that he looked legitimately taken aback, almost even frightened, by what you said.  You had been stepping closer to him with every word, and had backed him up against the wall at this point.  “It must be so empowering to be a man…that you can just exist and be you whereas a woman has to apologize for her existence,” you said.  “If I ever hear that you’ve talked about me or my body again, I will kill you with my bare hands.  I fucking hate your guts.”

“I can feel it,” was all he could reply with. 

You took one final step closer, looking at him with all the venom in the world in your eyes.  “You can hurt me, Will, and you already have, but if you hurt any one of my friends, it’s over for you, and I mean that entirely.  I will fucking end you.  That’s a promise.”

He stayed silent then, looking down at you, because there was nothing for him to say.  You felt like kneeing him in the groin, but that would have been too much pleasure for one night after what you’d just said to him.  It would have been an indulgence.  As the words hung in the air, you backed up slightly before walking out of the room.  Only then had you noticed the door had been held open by Matt, who was watching you intently as you made your exit.

***

Just knocked on your room door and you didn’t answer.  Are you in the shower or something?

I went to the airport early Catching a red eye to Winnipeg

Hazel

Gonna spend some extra time with my mom

I need to talk to you

I know. I’m sorry I blew up at Will in your room. That wasn’t very nice of me and it put you in an awkward position of having to hear me yell seven years of pent up shit at him.

I couldn’t care less about that He deserved it

Am I still allowed to come to the cottage?

Obviously Hazel What makes you think you wouldn’t?

I don’t know The way I spoke to you

***

30th June 2023

all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation my hands are shaking from holding back from you

You bought Timbits.  It was the quintessential Canadian road trip item, and you couldn’t show up empty-handed, even though the drive to the cottage was only just over an hour.  With your suitcase loaded in the trunk, you hauled the bag of groceries into the backseat.  Tyson always insisted he had food, but protein bars and chocolate milk didn’t count.  When you slipped into the front seat, you held them up near your face.

“You wanna make me fat?” he asked as he shut the door behind them.  “Seriously, woman.  I have a strict diet to maintain this body.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Oh, right.  I forgot about that.  Your diet of energy drinks and Dave’s Doubles and junior cheeseburger deluxes is sooooo healthy.”

“You know it,” he winked.  “What’s with all the food, by the way?”

“You never have food.”

“I have food!”

“I also may have watched The Bear with my mom.”

Tyson giggled.  He put the gear in drive and signalled.  “Yeah.  That’ll do it.  What’re you gonna make?”

“Scallopini al funghi,” you said, eyeing him.  He stayed silent.  “You know, like a chicken marsala.”

“Oh, you mean like from the Cheesecake Factory?”

You chopped him across the chest.  As always he was overdramatic in his response, though he knew exactly what he was doing when he brought up the Cheesecake Factory.  “You take that back right now, Tyson.”

“Man, you still got it,” he rubbed at his chest where you chopped him.  “You been practicing without me or something?”

“Apologize!”

The smirk hadn’t left his face.  “I’m sorry I brought up the Cheesecake Factory when you mentioned making a fancy shmancy Italian dish,” irony dripped with every word that came out of his mouth.

“Thank you,” you smiled just as ironically.  “How was the rest of the time in Toronto?”

He shrugged.  “Just the usual.  Lots of media.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  I was able to go to a few places and get some gaming stuff, which was nice.”

You almost didn’t want to ask, but there was something in your chest that was making you.  “How’s your neck?”

“Neck’s fine,” he said, looking over at you quickly.  “And I’m not just saying that, okay?”

You nodded in understanding.  “I’m excited for this, you know,” you tried to lighten the mood back to where it was.  You didn’t want to talk about what had happened just yet.  It was the first time seeing Tyson in almost five days and you wanted to see him smile.  “I can’t wait to do a 630 splash off the dock.  The water will be warm, right?”

“We’ll see,” he said.  “I’m excited, too.  I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

***

Groceries were put away.  Scallopini were made.  Dishes were put in the dishwasher.

And then…

“BAH GAWD ALMIGHTY!” you could hear Tyson scream in a bang-on Jim Ross impression before you hit the water.  The cold temperature hit your skin like icicles, but you knew it would be only momentary.  You swam a bit underwater before you emerged back up, hearing Tyson finishing his yelling.  “Somebody stop the damn match!  That man has a family!”

You watched as he got a running start and completed a flawless tope con hilo from the edge of his dock right into the water.  You began to backstroke so you could get further into the lake as you watched him come up for air.  “Show off!” you yelled at him, a smile on your face.

He smiled and shook his head.  He began swimming over to you.  “I do that all the time!” he called out after you.  When he caught up to you, easily, he could see the playful scowl on your face.

“Now you’re just bragging,” you said.  You turned away from him and looked out onto the lake.  Streaks covered the sky, the sunset starting showing its beauty over the lake.  Whenever you came here with Tyson – not that it was often, but whenever it did happen – you always managed to get a beautiful sunset.  You didn’t know if it was the time of year, or the weather, or some other force of nature you had no power over.  Regardless, you were very lucky.  You could feel him behind you.  “You get the best sunsets out here,” you commented, your voice no longer yelling.

“I know,” he said. 

You were both quiet for quite a while, just letting the sound of the waves take precedent.  The lake wasn’t particularly lively – at least not at this time of day – but there were some boats still driving around the lake, some families down the coast clearly having their own Canada Day weekend celebrations.  You treaded water easily to stay afloat, but the cold water wasn’t getting any warmer.  You plugged your nose and dunked your head into the water to see if it would help, but when you came back up, it hadn’t.  “Think the water will be warmer tomorrow?”

“Just dunk your head a few more times,” Tyson suggested playfully.  You chuckled, but what you weren’t expecting was to feel his giant hand atop your head.  “Tyson!” you screamed, because you knew exactly what he was going to do.

It didn’t stop him.  He pushed you down and dunked you into the water.  He let you come back up quickly, but by the time you caught your breath, he pushed you back down again.  It was like he was baptizing you, for heaven’s sake.  Under the water, you kicked and punched at him.  If you were being honest, you were aiming for his dick, but when you were above water once more catching your breath, he wasn’t grovelling in pain, so it meant you missed.

“You asshole!” you half-yelled, half-giggled.  “You are seriously the worst, Tyson Smith.”

“Wow, using my full name?”

“You deserve it.”

“Nobody ever deserves that.  You were the one trying to hit me.”

“I was trying to punch your dick.”

“You were what?!” his voice raised three octaves.  “Hazel Ila—”

“—do not say my middle name—”

“—Ilaaarrrrria,” Tyson put on an extremely strong and dramatic Italian accent.

Big mistake.  You splashed a ton of water into his face, discombobulating him.  You couldn’t help but laugh as you kept splashing him, getting closer to him with each one.  When you were close enough, and with whatever vision he had left with tons of lake water flooding his eyes, he reached out and grabbed your arm to stop you.  He pulled you into his body, holding you against him.  Your arms wrapped around his shoulders. 

“You really are a jezebel, eh?” he said, using one hand to wipe the water off his eyes. 

“I always knew you stealing my passport in Japan would come back to haunt me one day,” you said.

“You’re lucky I’ve never told anyone.  Do you have any idea how long and hard Austin has begged?”

You both giggled.  Then silence.  You were close.

Tyson kissed you.  He leaned his head forward and in one swift movement he kissed you.  You kissed him back for as long as you could.  It had been seven years.  Tyson kissed you for as long as he could before he realized what he was doing and pulled away, turning his head to the side.  “Fucksorry—sorry—” he began mumbling and apologizing quickly.

“—It’s okay—”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry Haz—”

“—Tys, it’s alright.  It’s okay.”

Your hands were cradling his face by this point, and despite his tone and his apologies you continued to look deep into each other’s eyes.  You wondered what was next.  You always wondered what was next with Tyson.  You could feel lightning running through you, running deep in your damn bones.  And when you were sure Tyson would lean in again, a scream across the lake broke the moment.  You both whipped your heads to see a boat pass by, teenagers hanging on to a tube with every inch of their life responsible for the screaming.  The both of you watched as it sped across the lake, taking your moment with it. 

“You’re shivering,” Tyson finally said, filling the silence.

Considering your body was pressed up to his, you weren’t surprised he felt something.  But considering what had just happened, you hadn’t even noticed yourself.  “Guess I’m not used to the water just yet.”

“Let’s go inside.”

“No no, if you want to stay out we can stay out.”

“No way,” he shook his head.  “I’m not gonna make you stay out here shivering.  We’ll come back out tomorrow when the sun’s out.”

You made your way inside.  Tyson gave you space to change into comfortable clothes, and you went into the master bathroom to do something with your hair.  It would inevitably develop a curl, so you decided to brush through it and try to calm your bangs as much as possible before tying it back into a French braid.  The electricity that was in your body hadn’t left, and the moment between you and Tyson in the lake kept playing in your mind.  His blue eyes.  His stupid little giggle.  His voice raising three octaves.  You tried breathing in and out, tried thinking of something else, but nothing could get rid of the electricity or the thoughts.

When you made your way back out, Tyson was already in the kitchen putting a bag of popcorn into the microwave.  When he saw you, he couldn’t help but smile.

You noticed right away.  You thought you looked like a witch.  “What?” you asked him.  “Gosh, I bet my hair looks awful after the lake water,” you grimaced, playing with your bangs and pulling them down to frame your face at least somewhat.

“Nah,” Tyson said softly.  “You look beautiful.”

The electricity that never left had just been amped up to a higher voltage.  It was the electricity that made you act; the second you were close to him in the kitchen, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him, a reciprocal from what happened in the lake.  He immediately kissed back, his arms wrapping around your waist.  His hands went to your ass and he lifted you in his arms and set you down on the countertop, getting in between your legs.  But when you tried slipping your tongue in his mouth, he pulled away.  As if he were ashamed.  “Shitshitshit…” he muttered.

“Ty—”

“—I can’t do this.”

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.  “Why not?”

He was breathing heavily.  He shook his head.  “I can’t—I promised myself I couldn’t do anything until we talked about what happened in Toronto, and I’ve already broken that promise.”

Your sanity somewhat recovered.  “Can I ask you something first?”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s gonna happen in the ring anymore?”

Tyson paused.  He knew he’d have to answer for that one day, and it was apparently going to be now.  He knew they wouldn’t be able to have this conversation without his answer.  “I see how worked up you get, and how much it affects you and gets you worried.  I don’t want to put you in that position to, you know, worry about me.”

He was such an idiot.  Literally the dumbest boy alive.  You brought your hands up, your thumbs rubbing over the stubble of his beard.  “You’d think by now you’d realize it’s been having the opposite effect,” you said.  “When I told you that it’s getting harder and harder for me to watch your more hardcore stuff I meant it.  Leaving me in the dark is just doing more harm.  I’d rather know about it.  I’d rather be prepared.  It would make me less nervous for what’s coming.”

“But I can’t stand to see you cry,” he whispered.  “Every time I do I know it’s because of me and I can’t handle it.”

 “Please, Ty.  Just tell me,” you said, pausing afterwards.  “What are you gonna do at Blood and Guts?”

Fuck.  You could see Tyson visibly grimace, his eyes fluttering closed.  “There’s gonna be thumbtacks,” he began.  Your stomach was already in knots.  “And uh, there’s this thing…it’s a nail bed—”

“—a nail bed?!—”

“—and I’m going to take a body slam on to it.”

Your tears began almost instantaneously.  “Tyson—”

“—I know, I know—”

“Tyson,” you buried your head into the crook of his neck, resting it on his shoulder.  “Tyson, please,” you were desperate, desperate for him to listen to you. 

“Hazel, Hazel, don’t cry,” he cooed, rubbing your back.  “It’s gonna be okay.  Look at me, look at me,” he gently pulled away before placing a finger underneath your chin so you could look at him.  “You’re breaking my heart by making me see you cry.”

“I hope I am!” you said with more emphasis than normal.  “I get that you want to be the master of your craft but this isn’t it.  Say you’re injured.  Say you can’t do it.  Please.  I don’t want to see you ripped to shreds.”

“Hazel,” you could hear the heaviness in his voice, “you know as well as I do I can’t be the only guy not taking a spot during the match.”

You knew that, but your judgement was clouded right now.  If you had your way, none of the guys would be taking any spots on any damn nail bed, but it wasn’t like you could control these things.  You wished you could.  You knew you would have to suffer through it and there was nothing you could do about it.  You knew it would result in waiting for him to return to gorilla afterwards and having to see him aching.  You knew you’d be in the locker room with him as he got patched up, holding everything in (or, maybe this time, you’d let everything out, in front of everyone). 

You sighed, feeling Tyson wipe away the tears that had fallen from your eyes with the pads of his thumbs.  “You’re so adamant about this.  Why?” he asked.

“Because I’m selfish, Tyson.  I want you around for a very long time.  I’m selfish and I want you with me for a very long time.”

You finally verbalized, praying to God that it would finally get through to him as to why you were the way you were.  He looked into your eyes for any hint of uncertainty or ambiguity, but there wasn’t any.  “Hazel…”

“Don’t you want the same?”

You watched as he gulped, and you could feel his hands grab yours and hold them gently in his.  “You know before Will came in…and you asked me ‘Is that really all that matters to you?  Is that it?’ when we were alone in my room?” he asked.

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t get to…what I wanted to say was…” he trailed off.  “You matter to me, Hazel, a lot.  You’ve mattered to me for years.  I just—I should have—back in Portofino, and back in Japan, I should have said something, and I didn’t because I was too focused on wrestling, too focused on being the best.  And I thought I was old, and there you were, and you were so young and so good, and I just couldn’t do that to you.  But you do matter to me Hazel.  You do.  More than anyone.”

“Tell me what you want, Ty,” you were desperate to hear the words.

“I want it to be the right time.”

Memories of your time in bed together after the G1 Climax in Tokyo together flooded your mind like a tsunami.  You felt a shiver run up your spine, the electricity from deep within you igniting again.  You nodded slightly.  “It is the right time,” you assured him.

He kissed you again, just like he did in the lake earlier, and you responded right away to the feeling of his lips on yours.  Your hands escaped his hold so you could wrap your arms around his broad shoulders; his own arms wrapping around your waist.  You sat there on the counter with Tyson between your legs for what felt like hours, the taste of him so intoxicating you were running out of breath.  You didn’t know how to describe his kisses any other way except full – full of emotion, of passion, of love, of seven years of waiting and all the pent-up feelings that came with that.  So you took every moment and cherished it, burning it into the back of your mind.  Every feel of his curls as you ran your hands through them, every feel of the stubble of his beard rubbing against the bare skin of your face and your neck, every feel of his muscles tightening the more you squeezed your legs around his torso to bring his body even closer to yours.

You found your hands creeping underneath his shirt, his skin of his back so delicate underneath your fingertips.  He still had some scratches on his back from the cage match with Jon, and the scar from the gash he got at the G1 Climax tournament in 2016.

Tyson pulled away slightly, quickly.  “Do you still feel safest with me?” he asked.

You nodded quickly.  “Yes, God yes,” you rushed so your lips could be back on his.  “Always, Ty.”

His kisses travelled to your neck and clavicle.  His hands were squeezing at your thighs.  You were sure he was going to leave a mark somewhere, his kisses and bites becoming insatiable.  You were sure your breaths and moans were only fuelling him, but you knew you wanted more.  The slight impatience got the best of you.  You grabbed his hands before widening your legs.  “Touch me Ty,” you breathed out, placing his hand on your hot core over your leggings.  “I want you to touch me.”

That apparently flipped a switch in him, because he picked you up in one swoop and began carrying you through the cottage until he got to his bedroom, setting you down on the bed.  “Touch me, touch me,” you begged absent-mindedly, so desperate to feel him that you pulled off his shirt. 

His hand finally went where you wanted it to go.  Your hips immediately bucked at his touch, even though it was above fabric.  He moved his body to hover over yours as he did so, making sure he could keep eye contact you and watch all your reactions as he did what you wanted him to do.  “Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“You gonna let me taste you?”

Your breath got caught in your throat.  You wanted it, you wanted it so bad, but the possibility of it actually happening made you slip up.  He obviously hadn’t done it previously, with the two of you being the way you were getting in the way of it happening in Portofino and Tokyo.  “Y-Yeah,” you stuttered out, nodding.

Tyson gave you a few more kisses as his fingers drew circles and ran up and down the fabric over your core before he pushed himself back on his knees.  He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your tights before pulling them off in one full swoop.  Next, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulled them off too, exposing your whole bottom half.  He could hear your intake of breath, could see how you were watching his every move.  “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled out.  “Just nerves.”

He furrowed his brows.  “Why are you nervous?”

“I don’t know.  Just am,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he moved over your body to kiss you.  “I want to make you feel good, but if you’re nervous, I don’t have to.”

“No no, I really want you to.”

The two of you couldn’t help but giggle at your response, Tyson kissing you again – quick, little kisses on your lips – before pulling away.  “Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?  I’ll stop the second you want me to.”

You nodded in agreement.  Not that you’d have to tell him to stop.  If he was going to go down on you, there was no way in hell you’d ask him to stop.  There wasn’t a force on God’s green earth that would make you ask him to stop.  You closed your eyes as Tyson began slowly kissing his way down your body, pulling up your shirt to just underneath your breasts so he could kiss your soft tummy, dragging his tongue and lips along your skin before he got below your belly button.  His hands went to your thighs, spreading your legs apart for him. 

“You’re so beautiful, Hazel.”

A warmth washed over your body at the words.  You watched as he got between your legs, bringing his finger up to feel you.  You flinched slightly, already so sensitive.  You could see a smirk on Tyson’s face as he brought an arm around to keep your keep your hips down.

There was no precursor for Tyson – no tentative licks or little flicks of the tongue first to ease you into it.  He just went right in.  He’d waited long enough.  It made your jaw drop, a mewl leaving your mouth almost instantly.  And he didn’t stop from there.  He lapped at you like you were his last meal on earth the entire time he was down there, making you bunch the bed sheets into your fists, your knuckles white.  As your moans got louder, you couldn’t help but start writhing in bed.  But his arm across your hips was limiting your ability to move, which just made it all the better.  You reached down to grab on to some of his curls.  He looked up at you with his blue eyes and you almost came right then and there.

“You alright?” he asked quickly.

You nodded.  “I’m almost embarrassed to tell you how long I’ve dreamt of you doing this to me.”

You watched as the corners of his eyes crinkled.  “Am I better or worse than your little fantasies?”

“Better,” you said automatically.  “So much better.”

The vibration from his proud little chuckle just made the experience even more pleasurable.  After a short while, you could feel a warmth take over your body, and you knew you were close.  You verbalized this to Tyson, who kept doing what he was doing and didn’t change his rhythm at all – thank God.  Eventually, you felt your orgasm overcome you, your body writhing at the feeling.  You tried to stop your legs from coming together and squeezing Tyson’s head between your thighs, but he didn’t seem to mind when you couldn’t control it anymore.  He moved in tune with each buck of the hips, each squirm, never taking his mouth off your pussy, even for a second. 

When your orgasm subsided, and you tried to catch your breath after all the moaning and calling out of his name, Tyson kissed the inside of your thighs before moving back up your body.  You were desperate to kiss him and crashed your lips onto his when he was close enough.  “So sweet,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Christ almighty, Ty.”

He continued kissing you, slow and steady and full just like before, moving to pull your top off.  You played with the waistband of his sweatpants for a bit, just to tease him, before pushing them and his underwear down all in one go.  You could feel how hard he was then, his cock resting between you.  “What other little fantasies have you had about me?” he asked.

You were not prepared for that question.  And you were not prepared for having to think about answering as he was kissing his way down your chest.  “How much time do we have?” you tried to joke.

“Tell me,” his voice was firm, right before he took a nipple into his mouth.

“I’ve dreamt of it all, Ty,” you admitted, closing your eyes to savour the feeling of what he was doing.  “I’ve been dreaming about you since I was, like, twenty-one.  That’s a lot of time.  What about you?”

He stopped what he was doing, coming back up and bringing one of his hands up to move some hair out of your face.  “D’you know how many times I’ve replayed Portofino and Tokyo in my head?” he asked.

So you weren’t the only one.  What a feeling it was to know.  “Yeah?”

“When we fell between the two beds…” he began, his thumb gliding over your lips.  “You don’t forget things like that.”

You nodded because you understood.  You had never forgotten that moment either, mostly because it was one of the few moments in your life when you felt pure, genuine happiness.  “I love you, Tyson.”

He kissed you.  “I love you too, Hazel.”

You kissed each other for a while again, your nails digging into the skin on his arms and back.  It was only when he was biting down at the skin near your collarbone that he spoke again.  “Will you let me make love to you?”

“No.”

Tyson stopped everything.  He looked up at you.  “No?”

“I know you can go harder than that,” you said.  “I haven’t felt you in seven years, Ty.  I need it.”

He was like a man possessed after you said those words, his hands and lips all over you with zero abandon.  In one swift movement, he grabbed onto your hips and flipped you over on to your stomach.  You got excited at the new position.  “Is this okay?” he asked.

“You bet,” the excited grin grew on your face as you got on our hand and knees.

You positioned yourself and purposely crashed your ass into his hips, causing a groan to escape him before you could feel his hand between your bodies, stroking himself several times before using his head to tease your pussy.  You gripped onto the sheets, arching your back and biting your lip.  When he finally pushed inside you, you let out a cry.  He felt just as good as you remembered,  if not better.  “Jesus fuck, Ty,” you couldn’t help but swear as you felt him fully in you.  He was giving you a few moments – you knew that – but you were so desperate to feel him pump in and out of you that you almost resented the fact he wasn’t moving yet.  “Fuck me, Tyson.  It’s been seven years.  Let me feel all of you.” 

With every thrust, you could feel every inch of your body igniting on fire.  His moans and grunts, the way his hands were gripping on to your hips, the movement of your bodies, the song of the sounds you were making – it all came together in the most pleasurable experience.  You got louder and louder as he pounded into you just as you wanted.  “God Ty, you feel so fucking good,” you said, flipping your hair over your shoulder to be able to look at him. 

“Was this one of your little fantasies too?” he asked.

You nodded.  “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

You sighed out, unable to form coherent thoughts.  You knew this was only the beginning of the night.  If you knew Tyson – and you did – he’d be asking you about all of them, and you wouldn’t be able to get out of it.  Not that you wanted to.  “We were doing exactly this, but…”

“But?”

“But you pulled me up by my hair,” you said.

To your surprise, you could feel him wrap some of your hair around his hand before tugging on it and pulling you up so your back was flush against his chest.  He was gentle but still purposeful with his movements, knowing what he was doing to you.  “Then what?”

You gulped.  He had slowed his pace moving in and out of you, but the way you were positioned already made it feel so good.  Your body shivered at what it would feel like when he lost all control.  “You…you had one hand here to hold me up,” you said, grabbing on to his left hand and putting it at the base of your neck.  “Just don’t squeeze,” you added quickly.

“I won’t,” he gave you a quick kiss on your shoulder.  “What else?”

“Your…your other hand was here,” you grabbed on to his right hand, placing it on your pussy so his fingers were directly on your clit.  “You were fucking me so good I was seeing stars, Ty.  I woke up and started touching myself.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.  “Was there anything else?”

You nodded.  You took another deep breath.  “You were…you were leaving marks,” you admitted.  “All here…and here…” your hand moved over your neck and shoulders on both sides before settling back on top of his hand that was on the base of your neck.  “When I woke up, after I touched myself, I went to the mirror to see if the marks were real.  I was so sad I didn’t have them.”

Tyson’s lips began kissing at your neck and shoulder.  “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

“Yes please.”

Tyson’s lips went back to your neck and you could immediately feel him sucking at the skin there, no doubt leaving one of the marks you so wanted.  Without warning, he began pumping harder and quicker too, building up a rhythm that hit the most perfect spot in you and made you cry out in pleasure over and over again.  His fingers began massaging your clit, too, and it all truly felt like a dream, a dream you had dreamed for seven, eight, nine – maybe ten years now.

You could feel your throat dry up from how long Tyson had been fucking you.  You knew you were close to your second orgasm of the night – but it definitely wouldn’t be the last.  “Harder, Ty.  I’m so close.”

You cried out when you felt just how hard he started to go, and soon enough, you saw those stars you had once dreamed of.  The feeling was so intense, and just like the previous times with Tyson, you could feel the pleasure rush through your body from your head all the way to your toes, and down deep in your bones.  He was still holding you up, but you felt yourself collapsing, on account of your legs feeling like complete jelly.  But then you heard Tyson moan and felt him come inside you, and another rush coursed through your body – so intense that you had to put your hand over his and get him to stop teasing your clit or else you were sure you would explode and cease to exist.  Whatever you had ever dreamed previously wasn’t as good as this – it was impossible to compare.

Your heart was beating out of your chest.  You hung on to every last feeling of your orgasm until it passed, slowly.  “Shit,” you could hear Tyson curse behind you, his head still on your shoulder.  “Holy shit.  Holy shit.”

“God, Ty,” you breathed out.  His one hand left your neck, and the other hand left your pussy, and when they did, you felt yourself collapse onto the bed.  Apparently your legs were still non-functioning.  You began to giggle at just how fucked out you were, shifting yourself over to your back. 

Tyson smiled too, albeit nervously.  “I don’t know if giggling is the best reaction here.”

“It’s a good thing,” you let out as he sunk down beside you.  You turned your head to look at him, so he could see it in your eyes.  “Trust me.”

Tyson giggled too then.  “I’ll take it.”

“You’re gonna have to start getting used to it.  Especially tonight,” you said.  You rolled yourself on top of his chest, looking down on his face.  “I mean, I’ve had so many other little fantasies…”

“Baby, I’m just getting warmed up.”

***

19th July 2023

and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow and it's alright now

The nail bed wasn’t supposed to fall down Tyson’s back and arms, but of course Tyson couldn’t take the spot lightly.  And because Tyson couldn’t ever take a spot lightly, his back was now all scratched, gashes and little holes down his entire left side – the same side you’d had to bandage and put ointment on just seven weeks ago.  At least there were no thumbtacks. 

Once he had finished pulling said thumbtacks out of Kota’s back, he hauled himself onto a training table and a trainer began assisting him.  Cotton swabs, disinfectant – there was even a stitching kit ready to go.  Matt was on the phone with Dana, Nick was Facetiming with Ellen, and Kota was in his own world.  It was a good a time as ever to stand next to Tyson.

You weren’t crying this time.  This was already a huge success.

The trainer had cleaned his hands first, bloody from the wreckage in the ring.  You watched as the trainer wiped away the blood on his face, disinfecting the area and making him wince.  When the trainer moved to his back, Tyson looked at you.

“You okay?” he whispered. 

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly.  “I’m not crying, so we’re leaps and bounds better than where we were several weeks ago.”

“Does it look bad?”

“It looks like you got into a fight with a bear at the cottage.  But somehow, you won the fight.”

Tyson’s laugh was interrupted by a wince.  It was obvious the trainer was disinfecting an area.  He grabbed onto your hands, squeezing them at the next sting.  You squeezed back.  “I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you too.”

As quick as a lightning flash, he brought your hands up to his lips to kiss them.  Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Matt watching, his eyes bulging out of their sockets with his eyebrows raised in shock.  When he saw you looking at him, he smirked and mouthed only one word to you.  Finally. 

Everything was okay.  Everything was alright. 

[kyleoreillylover]

Tiffany Stratton x Fem!Reader

Summary: What’s it like dating the Center of the Universe?

A/N: Why does no one write for Tiffany? I love her 😭😭 Here are some headcanons of her, hope you enjoy!

She’s very possessive of you, not in a controlling way but so everyone knows not to persue or mess around with you because you are her girl.

Loves PDA. Not just because it wards off people who try to get with you, but because she loves touching you. Constantly has an arm around your waist, your shoulder, anywhere she can hold. Makes out with you anywhere and everywhere, and doesn’t care who's watching. Why would she? They are irrelevant in her eyes, and if it bothers them that much they can look away.

Brags about you all the time. Aside from herself, of course, you are the best thing to ever happen to NXT in a long time. To her, you were beautiful, talented, kind, and miles better than all other these wannabes in this company. Why wouldn’t she brag about you?

If it isn’t obvious from being the Center of the Universe, she is the passenger and pillow princess in the relationship. Your love language is acts of service, so you loved to take care of her both in and out of the ring, whether that is being the designated driver, massaging her shoulders and running her a bath after each match, and planning cute little getaways whenever Tiffany was really stressed out.

That's not to say she doesn't spoil you either. She spoils THE HELL out of you. Only lets her baby wear the best of the best. Versace, Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, you have a bunch of options as long as they are all designer. You feel bad because you don't want her to think you only are with her for her money. But she reassures you she'd never think that, and tells you that gift-giving is one of her love languages and it makes her happy to see you smile over something she got you. It was one of the first times in your relationship that she opened up to you, and your relationship became better because of it. After the talk, you put up less of a fuss about her buying stuff for you, feeling less guilty because you knew how happy it made her. Buys you gifts every week, sometimes it's something she knows you had your eye on or you'd love and is your style, but other times it's something like a new book collection or little trinkets that she knows you would love more than any designer brand. You are the only person she shows her soft side to, and you love that she feels so comfortable with you.

Definitely makes Shawn give you both your own private locker room because in her words, "We're the best wrestlers in NXT and deserve to be treated like stars instead of being in a room full of mouthbreathers and untalented hags."

You are not complaining when she drags you into the room after your promos to do some less than appropriate stuff ;)

But sometimes after a rough match you both just want to hold the other and cuddle for hours until you have to leave the arena.

She gets jealous very easily, and if anyone tries to flirt with you they better run away immediately if she tries to confront them. An angry Tiffany is not one you want to deal with.

Is very protective of you. Does not take anyone hurting you lightly, even if it is a joke. No lowlife trash should even have your name in their mouth. You’ve had to pull her apart from beating the hell out of the other girls after they kept running their mouths.

Loves having spa days with you on your days off and splurging on the best facility and skincare so the both of you can relax after hectic work weeks.

And also loves getting matching mani and pedi’s with you :)

You guys def have matching gear, not just ring gear but during promos too. Tiffany picks out the outfits, you’re just her beautiful model.

You give each other good luck kisses before one of you goes out for a match.

When Tiffany won the NXT Women’s championship, you were the proudest and the loudest one in the arena. You gave her the tightest hug ever, just so freaking proud of her, and the look you gave her made her heart melt. She waited until everyone was done hugging and congratulating her to let herself cry tears of happiness, picking you up and crying into your neck. She had the best thing in her life in her arms, and the second best thing around her waist, and she couldn’t be more happier.

You guys won the NXT Women’s Tag Team championships shortly after, which just made it all the more sweeter. You both were on top, had all the gold, and most importantly, had each other.

Tiffany may be an arrogant rich bratty girl to others, but to you she was the sweetest, softest, attentive and most loving woman you ever met and had the privilege of being with, and you couldn’t feel luckier knowing she was yours every single day.

[hookhausenschips]

Behind The Chaos

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Requested by @wrestlingbaby

Jon Moxley had long been an enigma to AEW fans. The rugged, unpredictable force in the ring, with his chaotic energy and blood-soaked intensity, often made it seem as though nothing could penetrate the hard shell he’d built around himself. But when he met Y/N, that shell began to crack in the most unexpected ways. 

Y/N wasn’t just another AEW wrestler—she was an unstoppable force of joy, with a contagious energy that seemed to light up every room she walked into. She had that rare ability to make people feel comfortable, to make them laugh even on their toughest days. It didn’t take long for her to catch Jon’s eye, but it took even less time for him to find himself drawn to her.  

At first, Jon was skeptical. He wasn’t exactly someone who gravitated toward TikTok stardom or prank videos. But when Y/N, with her infectious grin and mischievous sparkle in her eyes, asked him to join her in one of her ridiculous skits, he found himself agreeing—begrudgingly, of course.  

"Come on, Mox," she’d said, dragging him away from the locker room. "Just one video. It’ll be fun! I promise." 

Jon crossed his arms, giving her a side-eye that could have frozen lava. "I don’t do TikTok. I barely know what that even is. And no dances. I swear to God, if you try to make me do a dance challenge, we’re done." 

Y/N laughed, pulling out her phone and swiping through a list of viral pranks. "No dancing, I promise. Just... one little prank. That’s all I need. And then you can go back to your mysterious, brooding thing. Deal?" 

Jon hesitated. He could already feel himself getting roped in by her energy, despite his better judgment. "Fine. But I swear, if this goes south, I’m leaving you in the ring next time. Alone." 

"Deal," she said, her eyes practically sparkling. "You're gonna love it." 

--- 

I had no idea how this was going to go, but I knew it was going to be hilarious. Jon Moxley—the guy who could make grown men quake in their boots with just a glare—was going to help me prank some unsuspecting AEW talent. And, maybe, if I played my cards right, I’d be able to make a TikTok that’d go viral. I had the whole scenario planned out in my head. 

"Okay, here’s the deal," I told Jon as we slipped backstage to where the cameras were hidden, "I’m gonna pretend to be super mad at you, but I need you to look really, really upset. Like, you're about to go full-on angry Moxley mode. Can you do that?" 

He raised an eyebrow, his face a perfect mask of indifference. "Mad? At me? For what?" 

I shrugged dramatically, trying to keep a straight face. "Who cares? We’ll make it up as we go. Just... look mad at me. Real mad. You can’t break character, okay?" 

Jon let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I’ve got the ‘mad’ part down. Trust me." 

As I started the camera, I stormed up to him, face twisted in mock indignation. "Moxley! I’ve had enough of you acting like you're the only one who knows how to do this job! Seriously, do you even take me seriously? You’ve been walking around like the locker room’s your personal punching bag! What the hell is wrong with you?" 

He stood there for a moment, dead silent, his arms crossed over his chest. I could see the little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he wasn’t giving me the satisfaction of breaking character.  

"What the hell is this about?" he asked flatly, completely unaffected by my dramatic outburst. 

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. "I swear, Moxley, you’ve got to get it together. You’re impossible to work with!" 

Jon didn’t respond. He just stared at me, his expression stone-cold. 

I was barely holding it together. It was so hard to keep the prank going when his deadpan reactions were so perfect. Finally, I burst out laughing, dropping my angry persona entirely. "Gotcha! It was a joke. You should see your face right now!" 

Jon blinked, then, as if on cue, cracked the faintest smile—just enough to make the fans behind the camera lose it. 

"You’re unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head.  

"Yeah," I said with a grin, "but you love it." 

He didn’t answer. But when I checked the footage, I knew I had something gold. His expression had been perfect, like a stone wall, and when it cracked, it was only for the briefest moment. That was Jon Moxley: tough as nails, but you could never fully break him, not even with the silliest prank.  

--- 

Despite his initial reluctance, Jon found himself getting caught up in Y/N's world. The pranks, the playful banter, the ridiculous TikToks—it became a regular part of their lives. Jon didn’t talk much about it to anyone else, but when the cameras were on, and Y/N was coaxing him into another video, he couldn’t help but give in. There was something about the way she lit up whenever he played along that made it hard to resist.  

One day, Y/N had an idea for a viral dance trend—one that was way outside Jon’s comfort zone. It was a simple two-step with an exaggerated hip wiggle. She was all in, excited to get it perfect, but Jon was... less than enthusiastic.  

"Y/N," Jon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as she played the music in the background. "You do realize I’ve never danced in my life, right?" 

She tilted her head, giving him a sly smile. "You’re a natural, Mox. Just follow my lead. Trust me. We’re gonna make history." 

Jon narrowed his eyes, clearly skeptical. "I’m pretty sure history doesn’t need me looking like a damn fool." 

But when the beat dropped, and Y/N flashed him that mischievous grin, Jon found himself... moving. Reluctantly at first. Then, in spite of himself, he caught the rhythm. Y/N was right—he had that natural swagger, even if it was a little stiff at first. And the more they danced, the more he let go, until, for a fleeting moment, he wasn’t “Jon Moxley, the unbreakable wrestler.” He was just a guy in a goofy TikTok, dancing with his girlfriend.  

"See?" Y/N teased, twirling with a laugh. "Told you you had it in you." 

Jon gave her an exaggerated glare, his trademark smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You’ve got one more chance to pull this crap again, and I’m leaving you on the ring apron." 

"Uh-huh, sure," she said with a wink. "You love it." 

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to suppress his own grin as she filmed the final part of the dance. "But don’t expect me to do it again." 

As the video went live, it exploded across the internet. Fans couldn’t get enough of the big, tough Jon Moxley breaking down his tough-guy persona just enough to show a different side of himself—the one that let himself have a little fun, especially with Y/N.  

--- 

The thing with Jon is, he’s not just this tough, brooding guy who will stare you down and make you nervous. He’s also the guy who will help me prank a whole locker room, let me drag him into my latest TikTok idea, and get so invested in it that, by the end of it, he’s the one laughing. Sure, he pretends to hate it sometimes—he’ll claim he’s not cut out for it, that dancing and pranking aren’t his thing—but deep down, I know he loves the moments we get to just be ourselves, goofy and ridiculous.  

I can’t help but feel like we’ve created our own little world, a place where we balance out each other’s extremes. He brings that edge, that calm in the chaos, and I bring the chaos. And together, we’re unstoppable.  

So, yeah, Jon Moxley may never admit it, but he’s my partner in crime—and that’s a role he’s going to be stuck with forever. 

--- 

Despite Jon’s usual resistance to the chaos of social media, the TikTok videos continued to roll in, gaining more and more traction each time. The fans adored it. The sight of Jon Moxley, AEW’s resident wild man, doing a goofy dance or playing along with Y/N’s ridiculous pranks, was a breath of fresh air. It wasn’t just that people found it entertaining; there was something about seeing the tough guy loosen up, his walls coming down, that made the whole thing even more endearing. 

On any given day, backstage at AEW, Y/N could be seen with her phone in hand, buzzing with excitement, trying to convince Jon to join her for the next big video. And though he grumbled and acted like he couldn’t possibly be bothered, she knew better. Deep down, she knew he was just as hooked on their little world as she was. Their relationship—unconventional, unpredictable, and full of laughter—had grown to become something they both cherished. 

--- 

Somehow, I had totally underestimated how much fun Jon and I would have together. I mean, yeah, I knew he was funny in his own way—his dry, sarcastic humor was a hit with me—but I hadn’t anticipated him actually getting into the whole TikTok thing. Like, seriously, if you told me a year ago that Jon Moxley would be filming a goofy skit with me in the AEW locker room, I would've laughed in your face. 

This morning, though, I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was actually considering one of my latest ideas—a "prank wars" challenge, where we filmed ourselves pranking one another for a full week, and the loser had to do a ridiculous dare. He’d been quiet all morning, nursing his coffee, staring at me over the top of his cup like I was about to present the worst idea in history.  

I could feel the tension before I even opened my mouth.  

“Come on, Jon,” I pleaded, leaning on the table where he was sitting. "Think about it. We could totally make it hilarious! You’d get to prank me back, which I know you’ve been dying to do." 

Jon just gave me a look—one of those “Are you serious?” looks that made me laugh even harder. "I’m not gonna prank you, Y/N. You’re the one with all the tricks. I’m just here to watch you embarrass yourself." 

I pouted, crossing my arms. “You know you want to. How about this: If I win, you have to post a solo dance video. No excuses." 

His eyes narrowed at the suggestion. "Dance video? With me?" 

"Yep!" I said, completely unfazed. "You’ll have to do a challenge, just you. No ‘helping’ you, no ‘I’m too tired,’ none of that. It’s a solo gig. I’ll even help you pick the song!" 

Jon stared at me for a moment, the skepticism on his face so apparent that I nearly cracked. "You’re gonna regret that. The second I beat you, you’re gonna have to do two dares, and they’re gonna be worse than anything you can think of." 

I grinned, already plotting my revenge. "Deal. And if you lose, I get to pick your dare. And trust me, it’ll be something epic." 

Jon let out a low sigh, like he’d been suckered into something he couldn't back out of now. "Fine. But if you prank me with something ridiculous again, you’re dead to me." 

"You say that now," I teased, tapping the top of his head as I stood up. "But we both know you secretly love it." 

--- 

The pranks escalated over the next few days, each one more outlandish than the last. Y/N had a gift for finding the little things that made Jon tick—his dislike for cold water, his intolerance for spicy food, and his general preference for not being bothered. Each time, he played along, his gruff exterior hiding the amusement in his eyes. 

The pranks became a playful battleground. On the fourth day, Jon retaliated with his own bit of sabotage. Y/N was about to film a harmless dance challenge when she realized the music was gone. In its place was an audio clip—of her own voice, mocking herself, playing on a loop. 

“Wait—what the hell?” she exclaimed, looking around the room for Jon. 

Jon’s laugh rang out from the corner, where he was pretending to be busy with a phone call. “Thought you might like my remix,” he said, his smirk wide and unapologetic. “It’s a work in progress.” 

"You—" Y/N started, but she couldn’t hold it in. The laughter bubbled up uncontrollably as she lunged for him. "I swear to God, Mox, this is war. I’m picking the next prank. And you're gonna regret it." 

Jon just shook his head, feigning exhaustion. "I’ll be sleeping with one eye open, then." 

--- 

Jon had definitely upped his game with that prank, but I wasn’t going to let it slide. No way. I had a new idea in mind, something that would blow him out of the water. The thing was, Jon was relentless when it came to these pranks. He never seemed to tire of them, which only made me want to try harder. But as we approached the final day of our challenge, something shifted. 

We were getting ready for a big AEW show, and I noticed Jon looking unusually... calm. He wasn’t as excited to pull pranks anymore, and for a second, I wondered if maybe I’d pushed him too hard.  

“Hey,” I said, sliding into the seat next to him as he laced up his boots. “You okay? You seem... off today.” 

Jon glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "I’m fine. Just... focused." 

But that didn’t sound like the Jon I knew. Usually, he was all jokes, all laughs. Something was bothering him. “Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

He shrugged, still not looking at me. "I know. Just thinking about the match tonight. That’s all." 

I frowned, leaning forward a little, my voice softening. "You know, you don’t have to hide behind that... ‘tough guy’ persona all the time. You don’t have to be all business, Jon. Not with me. We can take a break from the wrestling world, just for a minute. Let’s enjoy this. Let’s enjoy us." 

Jon’s gaze softened when he looked at me, and I could tell he appreciated my words, even if he didn’t say it out loud. "I know. I’m just... trying to keep my head in the game, you know? I can’t turn it off when I need to." 

I smiled gently, brushing my fingers against his. "You don’t have to be perfect all the time. You’re already more than enough." 

His hand tightened around mine, his eyes locking with mine. There was a sincerity there, something raw and genuine that I didn’t see too often. “You really think so?” 

I nodded. “Yeah. You’re perfect to me.” 

He let out a breath, as if he’d been holding it in for too long, and for a moment, the tough exterior cracked—just for a second, but enough for me to see that underneath it all, he was just as vulnerable as anyone else. And that, I realized, was what made him so special.  

Jon Moxley might have been a warrior in the ring, but in my world, he was just Jon. And that was enough for both of us. 

[chaos-chloe]

A helping Southern Hand

Summary: Kris Statlander isn't available? Don't worry AEW's Southern Belle is always available to help.

OC: Dixie Fae/ Scarlette Price

TW: Descriptions of wrestling, country drawl, possible cursing (I don't remember) hook x oc {if I'm missing anything lmk}

I’m rushing, running my way to the curtain after Kris texted me that she got stuck in traffic, and needs a cover in the match. She definitely owes me a good dinner for working my night off. I catch my breath as I signal the sound guy to play my music to cut off Anna.

“Aw, did Orange and Hook not find a pretty enough partner?” Anna Jay teases while Angelo and Matt laughed.

“I guess it a handi-” Anna jay gets caught off by music

“I’m a Buckle Bunny

Drive my own truck, got my own money

Bangin' with the chaw, so I talk funny

Rhinestone hat says, "Kentucky"

I'm a buckle bunny.”

"AND THEIR TAG TEAM PARTNER, WEIGHING IN AT 126 LBS FROM FORT KNOX KENTUCKY, THE SOUTHERN BELLE DIXIE FAE!" Justin announces my name.

I come out around the corner with my hands holding my big buckle that is a floral background with a ribbon in pink text saying “COWGIRL UP”. I stopped at the top of the ramp, to tip my hat to the crowd while they were cheering. I sauntered my way down the ramp, slapping some fans' hands, to the ring. I started to climb the steel stairs, but Hook stuck out his hand to help me up the stairs gracefully, I grabbed his hand winking at him.

“Thank ya, Darlin’.” I greeted him and Orange with a small nod, Orange nodded back

“Well, Well, looky there Taz, your boy has some manners with our Southern Belle Beauty here.” Excalibur claims

“He knows how to treat the women roster.” Taz agrees.

I got behind the ropes, taking off my show buckle as Hook wanted to start the match with Matt. As they are circling around the ring Matt decides to scream in Hook's face.

“LOOK AT THIS IDIOT, HUH!? WHAT YOU GOT HUH?! WHAT YOU GOT? YOU WANT A SHOT? I DON'T THINK SO!” Matt has his arms raised taunting Hook, but he looks confused about where this little speech is coming from. Matt backs up to let Angelo tag himself in the match.  Angelo hops in to start circling around Hook, like a hunter scaring its prey. 

“He’s got this, doesn't he?” I inquired about Orange, he just nodded with a little smile.

“Alrighty darlin’, let's get this match started then.” I commented a little cockily.

Then, Angelo steps back to his corner and reaches his arm back towards Matt to tag in. Anna just stands there clapping to the crowd as Angelo tries to mess with Hook, but he turns things around with a hip toss to get Angelo off of him. Hook looks up to see Matt in the corner waiting to charge at him. Matt rushes him but Hook turns it to a drop sayanagi. Matt ends up with his back turned to Hook, redrum is in place but it's too weak to hold Matt up. Matt scrambles to his corner to tag in Anna, Hook backs off of Matt as Anna enters the ring. Hook starts walking backwards as Anna starts walking towards me. I sat on the second rope with my hand held out to Hook with a smile, he slapped my hand and now it’s time for some Cowgirl Chaos.

“Oh here comes our Southern Belle, entering the ring with Anna Jay.” Tony describes.

“Look at the wicked smile on her face, she is ready for something.” Excalibur wearily says.

As I got into the ring, Anna and I started circling each other waiting for something to happen.

“So you’re the pretty belle in the back, who's gonna get her ass kicked by me.” Anna taunted with a sneer.

“Oh, really now hun?” I questioned her.

Anna then kicks me in the stomach with her left leg, I bent down to play as that kick hurt. She grabs my right arm to try to launch me to the corner, I countered it by slamming my feet to the ground in a squatting position. I shake my head with a smile and then toss her in the corner behind me away from her corner accompanied by a yell of “NO!”. 

I show off my non-show buckle with my hip popped out to the side taunting Anna, I try to go for an elbow strike to her face but she moves out of the way. The funny bone part of my elbow ends up hitting the top turnbuckle, with that static fuzzy feeling going up and down my arm. Anna rushes at me hitting me with a spinning high heel kick to the chest over my breast. I winced and tried to leave that corner, from further damage happening. Anna grabs my right arm again looking for her Jay kick, but I grab her leg to reverse the move. I slightly panicked, reversed into a suplex, but without a struggle I held Anna for 6 seconds then let us drop hitting the mat in the middle of the ring. I got back up to my feet, looking out to the crowd waving my invisible lasso; I darted my eyes over to our corner seeing Hook and Orange clapping for me. The referee runs in front of me to the other corner, realizing that Angelo was getting in the ring, causing a distraction letting Jack Hager come out of nowhere and hit Orange in the face. 

I rush over to see if Orange is okay, grabbing the top rope and observing Orange on the floor holding his head. I turned around to Anna superkicking me to the face, I rolled over to our side trying to gain back awareness. I see that Orange is still down and Hook is walking threateningly over to Jack, who is walking backwards around the ring and Anna ends up getting a tag to Angelo. 

Matt jumps off the apron running towards Hook hitting him with a mean clothesline. I slump down off and out of the ring by steel steps. I watch in pain as Matt picks up Hook and throws him into the barricade. Hooks falls down to the ground only to get picked back up and thrown into the ring to Angelo. Angelo grabs his hair forcing Hook to get up, Angelo pulls Hook into a suplex. He tries to cover Hook, thankfully Hook kicks out at 2. 

I finally collected myself and had my arms on the apron watching Hook getting beat by Angelo with some forearms to the head. Parker then hits another suplex on a dazed Hook, holding his back in pain moving away from danger. Parker follows Hook and grabs his hair again with his right hand, dragging him over to their corner, slapping his left hand with Matt. Matt jumps in and hits a back breaker to Hook, letting Angelo rebound off the ropes running drive by to Hooks head with a god awful sound. 

Orange and I jump up on the apron watching this all go down wincing in sympathy for Hook. Matt goes for the cover, Orange preemptively getting in the ring, but Hook kicks out at 2 again. I cheer and whoop that Hook is still alive with us in this match. I see that Hook looked over to us, I reached my hand out to give him a little bit of encouragement to tag one of us in to save him from this onslaught. Matt slaps the back of Hooks head/ neck, he stumbles over to the ropes to gather himself. Matt then grabs Hook, but Hook is fired up now, he delivers a big knife chop to Matt's chest three times. Matt is tumbling backwards but he kicks Hook in the abdomen to throw him to the turnbuckles. Hook’s back smacks the middle turnbuckle so hard that he falls to the ground. 

“Come on Hook darlin! Let's go!” I yelled over Matt's “Yeah!”

Hook hears me and starts crawling over to Orange and I with help of the bottom rope, yet Matt kicks him down. Hook keeps crawling, but Matt decides to hit Orange with an elbow. 

“YOU ARE DEFINITELY GETTING THE PIG FARM NOW, HUN!” I threatened Matt 

Matt continues his annoying onslaught to Hook, keeping him away from me. I turned half of my attention to Orange to get a good look at him.  I turned my full attention to Anna Jay, and the ring.

“You ain't nothin’ darlin’, bless your heart!” I yelled over the ring to her with my full southern drawl. 

“STOP!” Anna banshees a response to me as Hook gets whiplashed into their corner.

“We are getting a whole new view of our Southern Belle tonight guys.” Tony Comments on my scream.

“I think we are just seeing her natural response to her new friends getting beat down.” Excalibur responds

Hook falls back down to the mat, as Menard slaps his left hand to Parker's right hand. Matt places his foot on Hook's neck and grabs his left wrist to keep him still , as Angelo gets in the ring. Angelo enters and kicks his left hip hard, I walk over to the left side of the ring trying to rally Hook to give him energy to get to our corner. I walk back to our corner and see that Orange is back, I give him a nod to greet him back. We watch as Hook holds on the bottom rope trying to gather some energy. Angelo then copies Orange’s kicks with his hands in his pockets. 

Orange and I try to start rallying the crowd with slaps to the turnbuckle and claps, most definitely out of beat. I tune back into the match as Hook gets thrown into the ropes, rebounding into a dropkick. We wince and cover our face in slight shock. Parker goes for the cover, I stand on the bottom rope looking over the referees shoulder as Hook kicks out for a count of 2. 

“GET DOWN!” I look up to Anna Jay giving me a look.

“Honey, I think you need to fix your face!” I clapped back and Anna made a noise of frustration. 

I step down off the ropes seeing Hook is in some type of trouble, he ends up doing a back body drop on Angelo Parker. It sends Hook to the ground holding his back in pain. Parker grabs his ankle dragging his whole body to their corner and tagging Matt back in, again. Matt starts delivering kicks to Hooks head, Hook is covering his head trying not to get injured from their vicious attack. Matt again throws into a corner and falls to the ground in pain after trying to get away. 

“COME ON DARLIN’! BRING IT ON HOME!” I try to scream encouragement to Hook. 

I start slapping my right hand to the top turnbuckle, rallying energy from the crowd for Hook to make his escape. Matt has a different idea and keeps his nasty attack going on Hook with Jack Hagers watching proudly from the floor. Hook delivers a surprise left hook to Matt's jaw, giving him some breathing room. Hook starts hitting Matt with out-of-nowhere forearms. Matt found a brief pause in Hook's attack to strike back with his own forearm, sending Hook back to the corner.

Hook ends up finding energy as Matt and Angelo are tag-teaming him in the ring, he takes both of them down with a lariat after rebounding off the ropes. Hook uses his last bit of energy tagging Orange in the match, while falling to the mat away from the match. I crouch down with a hand on his back, checking up on his well being after that awful onslaught. I caress his back till he is out of the ring, either on the apron or on the floor. 

“You gonna be okay, darlin’?” I check on his health 

“Yeah, I'll be okay in a few” Hook groans in pain.

I am slightly shocked that he spoke to me, knowing he has a reputation of being silent, not caring, and eating chips. I smile down at him letting him recover in peace while Orange is in the match. 

Orange takes control real easily of Angelo grabbing his arm then moving his hand to his neck and slamming his head to the top turnbuckle causing him to become slightly dazed. Matt tries to attack Orange as Angelo stumbles away but ends up with the same fate. Just like clockwork, they kept coming back for more and more like they were stuck in a loop. Orange climbs to the top rope ready to deliver a dropkick, but Angelo and Matt cowered away. Orange jumped down and the boys turned around to watch him put his hands up and stuff them in his pockets. Matt and Angelo rush him with a double clothesline but Orange dodges them with a ninja roll. 

Orange turns around to meet them both with a dropkick, to the upper body. I stand back up in our corner just as a caution or escape route for Orange. I see that Hook is struggling to get back up, using the ropes for leverage, I came over and grabbed his free arm to walk him over to post to lean on. 

“Thanks Belle.” I heard Hook whisper, I nodded back to him with a smile and an innocent wink. 

As Orange gets back up to his feet, Angelo rolls out of the ring, Matt is struggling to get back up to his feet; Orange makes a decision to rebound off the ropes and run to hit Suicide dive on Jack Hager. Orange, rushed back into the ring meets with Matt, tries for a tornado ddt but gets blocked by Matt as Angelo rushes back in and attacks Orange's left shoulder. Angelo and Matt go for a double suplex but Hook rushes in and pushes Orange's feet back down to the mat. Hook attacks both Matt and Angelos shoulders, to weaken them for a double suplex of their own. Anna tried to be smart and block Hook’s and Orange’s suplex. I rushed in with a hand on both Orange and Hook to find Anna, I wrapped my arm around her and counted to 3, delivering a suplex to all three of them. 

Hook and I hurried out of the ring with each other, I noticed that his hand was on his abc again. My mom-like instincts came over me and I wrapped my arm around his back, letting him lean on me until we got back to our corner. As I helped Hook back to our corner, I watched Orange take off his sleeve going for an Orange Punch. Angelo sidestepped and snaked his arm around Orange's abdomen letting Matt come over and take him down with a leg sweep. Angelo ran from the corner, stepped up on Matt's back delivering an elbow to Orange's back. 

Orange rolls out of the ring, as Hook runs in and carries through a T-bone suplex to Angelo, catching him off guard. Hook turns and launches Matt through a T-bone suplex as well. He then sees Angelo holding on the top rope in our corner, he inflicts another t-bone suplex, but he throws Angelo onto Matt. They both roll out of the way, out of the ring, just as Anna gets in the ring yelling nonsense towards Hook. 

This causes the referee to get distracted again, so Jack Hager hits Hook with a running clothesline over the top rope. Orange pops back up to hit Jack with his famous Orange punch, knocking him down to the ground with a nasty fall. I clap and holler “yee-haw” to my boys for taking control of the ring again.

“Now you know, think of your actions, hun.” I said menacingly to Jack.

Anna then jumps on Orange Cassidys back trying to lock in the queen slayer, but I come in behind Orange to get her legs behind my head and I hold onto her arms to keep her from hitting me. Matt tries to rush at orange but he side steps sending him to Hook, locking him in redrum. I planted Anna down with a new move called “Muck em”, Matt started fading in Hooks redrum. I pushed Anna and myself out of the ring as Angelo rushed in but was hit with the Orange Punch. Orange rushes to cover Parker and counts 3 as the bell rung.

“THE WINNERS OF THIS MATCH; FTW CHAMPION HOOK, FRESHLY SQUEEZED ORANGE CASSIDY, AND THE SOUTHERN BELLE DIXIE FAE!” Justin announced over the speaker system 

Orange, Hook, and I all gathered ourselves in the middle of the ring, Hook getting his title. Orange reaches for my hand, I let him grab my hand, bring it to his mouth, kissing the back of my hand and pulling me into a hug. 

“Thank you Southern Belle, for coming to our aid.” Orange thanked me as if I was a princess. I laughed and shrugged my shoulders stating that it was no problem. Hook walked over and grabbed my other hand doing the same gesture as Orange but kissing my hand twice. The crowd is going absolutely wild for both vacant emotion wrestlers thanking me in a very emotion based way. Hook pulls me in a hug that lasts way longer than Orange’s hug did.

“Thank you so much for covering Kris and coming to help us. Meet me in the back, in 30 minutes?” Hook asked as we were pulling apart looking into each other's eyes while I was smiling brightly at him. 

“Of course Darlin’, just come by my locker room then.” i invited hook with a wink

Hook and I pull apart so we can raise our hands together with Orange Cassidy, to celebrate our win.

“Look at what a celebration from a very surprising team that came together very easily.” Tony stating the obvious.

“The boys are just showing our Southern Belle the proper amount of gratitude and respect for her to come out and help them.” Taz explains to the world

“Will we see more romance in the future from them? Is the question, look at how Hook looks at her.” Excalibur points out too

“We don't know, but we will see how this builds in front of us.” Taz commented back. 

Would y'all like a Part 2? Y'all have idea? Let me know!! <3

I don't own AEW, the wrestlers, the music nor the pictures.

I own Dixie/Scarlette and my work of writing.

Re-blog, like. comment and etc.! No Hate please!

Do Not copy my work and repost it as your own.

[breathewiththeswitchblade]

Forbidden Fruit

Pairing: Will Ospreay x OC (Gweneth)

Warnings: Age Gap(Older Woman/Younger Man), May-December Romance, Step Relationship, Step Parent/Chid Sexual Relationship, Technically not incest, Smut

I apologize for this :'D

  Gweneth paused as she heard noise coming from downstairs, smiling small as she heard her son, well step son but he basically was her son at this point. She paused when she heard another voice though, he hadn’t mentioned bringing anyone over. Not that he needed her permission to or anything, he was 27. Staying here with his work schedule was cheaper and made more sense for the both of them. And thankfully, they haven’t had any issues yet which she was thankful for. She pushed away from her computer, her eyes were killing her from editing this picture for her next project anyway. She made her way downstairs, following the sound of laughter to the kitchen. She leaned on the door frame, arms crossed with an amused smile as the two boys talked as her son moved around the kitchen, snagging snacks while the other man sat at the table. 

“Hey Will, “ She pushed off the frame as she announced her presence as her son whipped his head to her with a grin, “Hey mum!” She smiled again as she grabbed a soda from the fridge and opened it, before gesturing to the other man. “And…?” Will blinked a moment before laughing and clapping the other man on the back making him grunt,

“This is Kyle, think I’ve mentioned him before?” She nodded, “Is it cool if he crashes here sometimes too? I told him you really wouldn’t mind.” His smile turned sheepish as she shook her head before peering at Kyle. She looked him up and down, with a raised brow before he stood quickly, moving in front of her. He was cute, built like a shit brick house too. Will was tall yet this man was taller than him still. She had to repress her own need to cringe at her inner dialogue, he was her son’s friend. And damn near 20 years younger than her based on his looks. He held his hand out to her, 

“If it’s not too much of a problem, I’d appreciate it.” She eyed him a moment longer, enough to make him squirm before smiling and pulling the taller man in for a hug. She pulled back, patting his arm, “Any friend, well most, friends of Will’s are more than welcome here,” She turned and grabbed her soda, taking a sip, “But Will,” he popped his head from the fridge where he was rummaging through, “Give him my number or something so he can let me know when he’ll be here,okay?” He nodded and she smiled at Kyle again, “There’s an extra room upstairs, make yourself at home. I’m sure Will will give you the tour eventually.” Gweneth smiled before making her way back up to her office. She set her drink down and leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. She needed to get laid or something. She was not seriously checking out her son’s friend. Said friend that now basically lived in her house……she groaned as she opened the photo editor on her computer again. Hopefully work would distract her brain from whatever this mess that brewing was.

~~~

Thankfully, for the most part, her thoughts abut Kyle were kept at bay. He’d essentially moved into the extra room and it was normal to see him around, he even pulled his own weight with helping out around the house. Which she was grateful for, albeit a little surprised but she wouldn’t be shocked if Will had gotten on his ass about it. Not that she minded. She honestly loved having them around, when they were both gone on the road the house almost seemed too quiet. Gweneth sighed to herself however, because she still found the Aussie man painfully attractive no matter how much she tried to push the thoughts away. It was like they came back ten fold when she tried. She stared at her screen and groaned, before running her hands down her face. She shouldn’t have even thought of him cause now her brain was wondering what his hands would feel like running down her body. She frowned and leaned back in her chair, head back as she looked to the ceiling. He could probably pick her up with ease…

She smacked her own face, “Stop that.” She murmured to herself. She needed coffee. Getting up quickly, she made her way to the kitchen and to the coffee maker. Yes she still had an old school drip coffee maker, it just tasted better okay? As she was putting the grounds in she paused. Was that music? She didn’t think either of the boys were home, apparently she was mistaken. Gweneth finished setting the coffee maker up before making her way to the makeshift gym that Will had constructed in a different room, he didn’t always like having to go to the gym and she couldn’t blame him. Plus honestly it was nice to have because she didn’t have to feel self conscious when she worked out.

Gweneth paused by the door a moment, it sounded like both of them were there. She must have really been focused on work to completely not hear either of the boys enter the house, let alone the gym. She grabbed the doorknob slowly, though there was no way that they’d hear it over the blaring of their music. This was a mistake on her part, well mistake. Her throat tightened and subconsciously she licked her lips. Kyle was facing away from her, Will was adjacent to him, he could see her if he glanced to his left. Her eyes slid up Kyle’s form, watching the way his back muscles flexed under his skin, god she was glad he didn’t have that stupid fake tan right now. She took a tentative step forward, her eyes never leaving Kyle. She bit her lip as he flexed his arms in the mirror, lord he could crush her like a watermelon if he wanted to. At this point she knew Will saw her and caught his burning gaze for a moment as she went back to looking at Kyle.

Will noticed her enter and, instinctually, held his head up a little higher. He couldn’t help but peacock a little bit, that was until all her attention was on Kyle as she entered the room. It shouldn't piss him off as much as it did. He felt the heat of anger build in his chest as Kyle finally noticed her in the mirror and turned to look at her, cheeks a little pink. She beamed at him, that just made his stomach turn even more. He grabbed his towel and tossed it on his head as she was reaching out and gave the Aussie’s bicep a squeeze. He had to refrain from glaring at the both of them as he finished wiping the sweat from his face,

“Was there something you needed, Mum?” Gwen looked at her son, stepson, with a furrowed brow. She had heard the edge to his tone and she crossed her arms as Kyle glanced at him with a sheepish, apologetic look on his face. It wasn’t Kyle’s fault. He knew that realistically but he was still pissed, 

“Didn’t know I needed permission to be in parts of my house, William.” He clenched his jaw as her eyes bore into him and he let a huff through his nose. She sighed and shook her head, looking at Kyle once again, who now was wiping the sweat from chest. She was unashamedly checking the other man out and Will gripped his towel tighter, 

“I’m ordering chinese, you guys want some? It’s on me.” Kyle glanced at Will, who shrugged in response, not trusting his tone. 

“Sounds good to me, “ Kyle shrugged and she nodded, raking her eyes up Kyle once more before moving back to the door,

“It’ll be here in like an hour then.” She looked at Will, giving him a pointed look. “Clean yourselves up before then.” And she disappeared through the door. Kyle raised a brow at Will as he stood up, towel back on his head. 

“I’m going to shower. Try not to hit on my mum in front of me bruv.” He ‘playfully’ shoved him as he walked back that, thankfully just made Kyle laugh, 

“It's not my fault she likes what she sees.” He shook his head as he put his weights away and once Kyle turned from him to clean his area, he rolled his eyes and dropped his happy facade. What the fuck.

~~~

Dinner had thankfully been uneventful and Gwen had snuck upstairs to finish her work as quickly as she could. Because while it was uneventful, the tension was palpable and she couldn’t stand it. She stared at the picture on her screen before groaning and pinching the bridge of her nose again. She absolutely couldn’t focus on her work at all. She leaned back with a soft sigh, taking a drink of her water. She stared just past her computer screen, her thoughts going back to the Aussie currently residing in her home and she sighed louder. She set her water down and jumped at the knock on her door, like her thoughts had been broadcast to the others in the house and she’d been busted. She frowned to herself, 

“Come in…” The door opened and Will stepped in, shutting it behind him. He took a few steps in the room and stopped, his gaze burning into her. She swallowed, looking him up and down. He was in a shirt and sweatpants, normal attire for him honestly, but damn were those pants fighting for their lives on his thighs. Her eyes snapped up to his when he cleared his throat, she leaned back and crossed her legs, holding his gaze.

“Do you need something…?” The question hung between them for what felt like forever before he cleared the distance between them, his hands going to the arms of her chair, trapping her there. She swallowed but a smirk danced at the edges of her lips at the look in his eyes. His blue eyes burned as he narrowed his gaze at her, 

“Something funny…?” She hummed, leaning up a bit, so they were barely apart, “It's cute when you’re jealous William,” She let the smirk grace her lips as his nostrils flared a bit at the notion. “Maybe you shouldn’t leave me alone so much. I was only looking, and it wasn’t like he was upset by that at all. In fact I think quite the opposite.” That succeeded in making the man in front of her even more angry, as a growl rumbled in his chest. He leaned closer, feeling her breath on his face, 

“Sorry, Mum. I didn’t know you were such a needy slut.” In a blink of an eye, one of his hands shot to the back of her neck as he crashed his lips to hers. She whined against his lips, her hands shooting to bunch the fabric in the front of his shirt. He squeezed the back of her neck, making her gasp enough for him to slip his tongue into her mouth. Gwen groaned against his tongue, everything about the kiss was primal and possessive. HIs free hand moved to her hip, ushering her to stand, never breaking the kiss. Will walked them back until the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss, kissing down her throat before pulling back, panting softly before they caught each other's eyes again. He smirked the way her pupils were blown and slightly glassy, pressing a kiss to her lips as he toppled them over. He groaned into the kiss as her fingers snaked beneath his shirt, nails scraping on his skin. He shuddered before helping her pull his shirt off and tossed it to the side. Her hands slid up his stomach and chest before one slid behind his head and her nails scraped at his scalp. The other arm slid down his arm, gripping his bicep. Gwen wrapped her legs around his hips, groaning against his lips as she felt how hard he was against her. He gripped her hip, unable to stop himself as he ground his hips against her core, making them both hiss against each other. His other hand slipped up her shirt and he growled, kissing up to her ear. He cupped one of her breast in his hand, 

“No bra? If I didn’t know better, you planned this…” She let out a puff of air as a laugh but it turned to a whine when he pinched her nipple and nipped her earlobe. He rolled the hardening peak between his fingers, relishing in her whimpers. He leaned back a bit, enough to tug her shirt off and toss it away. He groaned, his eyes raking up her torso as he licked his lips before dipping down, “Fuck…I missed this..” Gwen was about to say something, something about how it was his fault it had been this long but before she could, he sucked one of her nipples in his mouth making her brain static. All that came out of her mouth was a high pitched moan, making her buck her hips against him. He groaned against her nipple, making her shiver in response before he popped off, eyes flicking to hers before he kissed and nipped a trail across her chest before taking the other in his mouth after he flicked it with his tongue. Her head fell back as she shuddered while his hand went up to pinch her other nipple. He rolled his tongue over her nipple as he sucked, while he used his other hand to slip down her body. He paused at her waistband as she arched against him and his eyes glanced at hers before she nodded slightly. He slipped his hand under the waistband and had to repress the groan in his chest as he popped off her nipple, licking his lips as she panted, glassy eyed. The hand on the back of his head, slid to his hair as she buried her fingers in his curls and crashed their lips together in a feverish kiss. They pulled apart, staring at each other a moment, before she pressed a softer kiss to his lips that he chased,

“Good boy….” It took his brain a moment to register the statement and he moaned, burying his face against her neck, biting the skin of her pulsepoint. With her help, they tugged her pants and panties off, kicking them away. He sucked her skin between his teeth before pulling back to gaze down at her. She shuddered under his gaze, suddenly self conscious of the age difference, not that she was in bad shape because she wasn’t. But she wasn’t one of those tiny little pieces of ass that tried to get his attention all the time. Gwen bit her hip as his fingers trailed down her sides and stopped at her thighs, 

‘“Look at you, love….” She couldn’t help the pathetic whimper that left her lips as she stared up at him as he stepped back to tug his sweatpants off. Her mouth damn near watered as his cock slapped against his lower stomach. He couldn’t help but smirk as he stepped forward, sliding his hands down her thighs. One hand moved to her hip, he used the other to sink two fingers into her. She arched her hips and he licked his lips, 

“You’re so fucking wet, “ He thrust his two fingers before quickly adding a third and curling his fingers in just the right way, making her thrust back against his fingers as she moaned. He thrust them a few more times before pulling them out, and raising the hand to his month. Maintaining eye contact with her as she panted, he licked her juices from his finger before falling forward and crashing his lips against her hungrily. Gwen whined and her legs wrapped around his hips again, pulling him close. She ached as his cock rubbed against her, making them both groan, 

“Fuck, Will, I need you..” She let out a breathy whine against his lips and he leaned back, gripping her hip almost painfully as he lined his cock up with her entrance. He pressed the head of his cock against her opening, meeting her eyes, “Beg.” That made her eyes narrow as she tried to rock against cock, to no avail as his hand held her hips still. She took a deep breath before biting her lip and meeting his gaze,

“Please? I need your cock buried in my cunt.” His brain was hazy hearing that fall from her lips, but how was he supposed to deny her? He rocked his hips a moment before he buried his cock all the way in her. His head fell forward with a moan as one of her hands went to his shoulder, nails digging in there and the other wrapped around his neck, scratching the back of his neck. He groaned as he slowly rolled his hips, pressing himself as close as he could to her as he kissed the side of her neck while she whined with every roll of his hips. 

Gwen’s brain was foggy and the only thing that mattered was Will’s cock slamming in and out of her as she moaned and whined against his skin. He readjusted himself, hitting her at a new angle that made her see stars. She moaned, hips moving on their own to meet his thrusts. He pulled back to watch his cock move in and out and groaned, as he met her burning gaze. He pressed his lips to hers before pulling back just where the were barely apart, as he grabbed her jaw, 

“This cunt belongs to me. No one can fuck you like the way your son can,” Her eyes rolled back and he felt her clamp down at his words which made him smirk. He pressed kisses to her neck as he thrust harder, making her moan again as she clawed at his skin, “Dirty slut aren’t you? Getting off to your son's cock thrusting in and out of you.” She whined louder and shivered as she clamped down around him again. A pathetic

“ ‘m close.” Left her lips that just made Will chuckle as he thrust with earnest, knowing for sure she’d have a bruise on her hip from how he was holding her hip. He closed his eyes, focusing on the way she felt around him and the way she clenched and pulsed knowing she was close. He hungrily pressed their lips together as she clung tighter, moaning into the kiss as her orgasm crashed into her. She whimpered and shuddered as he thrust through her orgasm,

“Fuck…..mum….,” His eyes were shut as his thrusts got erratic, “Where…?” She tightened her legs around his hips and kissed up his neck, nibbling on the pulse point before whispering, 

“Inside, always inside Will.” He groaned and slammed himself as deep as he could into her, moaning as he spilled himself into her. He slumped against her, as they both panted and her fingers gently slid over his shoulders and back. Before sliding to his cheeks and taking them into her hands, making him look at her. She stroked his cheek with one of her thumbs before pressing a loving kiss to his lips and he chased her lips as she pulled back and put their foreheads together, 

“You always make me feel so good.” He suppressed a whine but kissed her gently before sliding himself out of her, making them both groan in longing. He moved to the attached bathroom and started the bath before coming back as she slowly sat up, looking up at him. He scooped her up, damn near effortlessly,“Let’s get cleaned up, Mum.”

[smolwritingchick]

Hi! Starting over again!

Idk how many people may remember this blog but hi! I'm Val aka Smolwritingchick.

I used to post The Bangtan Gal here on Tumblr. A BTS Jungkook love story about an 8th member of BTS, Jennie Walker.

I'm starting over. I have two stories I want to post on here that I deleted. A wrestling story called Forced To Believe which is about a female member of The Shield from WWE (I posted that on fanfiction.net many years ago) and my BTS story, Bangtan Gal. Currently editing chapters and will post them soon.

I took a long break from writing due to my mental health and just lack of motivation to write as I focused more on work and had other passions. But I miss it and would love to repost my work. I'm not a big fan of the fanfiction.net site these days so I will be posting my stories on Wattpad, Tumblr and Archive of our own for now on.

I'm hoping to continue The Bangtan Gal as I plan out new chapters after editing the old ones. For now, what matters is that I'm having all these chapters up from what has already been written so people can reread.

This blog will focus 95% on my K-Pop story The Bangtan Gal, so expect a lot of posts and asks regarding my K-Pop story and fewer posts about my wrestling story. I'm more focused on that, so sorry in advance.

I don't really care about the notes or views. I just want to post these up again and see where it goes.

I keep rereading my stories and I really miss it so why not?

Stay tuned.

Links:

I'm also on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own

Forced To Believe Masterlist

Bangtan Gal Masterlist

Bangtan Gal Masterlist PART 2

Bangtan Gal Smol oneshot/drabble Masterlist

[theworldofotps]

The Chase (Slight NSFW)

Pairing: Jay White x OC Bee Word Count: 2,468 Description: Jay finds himself hooked on the new backstage producer.

Normally don't write for Jay but decided he fit this idea perfectly. Specially written for @omg-im-such-a-masochist Wishing you the happiest birthday babes! I'm so thankful to know you and for the friendship we've created don’t know what I’d do without you. Never forget just how important you are to me and so many others. You deserve nothing but the best I love you so much, happy birthday baby enjoy your story!! 🖤 _________ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist​ @melissahausen @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose @hotgirlgraps @madhatterbri @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires​ @surdelcielo @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @terrortwinunicorn @alyyaanna @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456 @mcreignsera @auburnwrites​ @aews-four-pillars @thatnerdwriter​ @sjwrites22​ If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. _________ Jay White was a major flirt, everyone in the AEW locker room knew that. He was a sweet-talking ladies’ man, not unfamiliar with female company. When Bee joined the company as an assistant producer and right hand for Tony Khan, everyone was intrigued. She had a reputation for being a no-nonsense professional with a sharp mind and a sharp tongue to match. Jay’s interest was immediately piqued.

When he seen her for the first time, Bee was walking through the backstage area with her head held high, radiating confidence. She had an aura of authority and an unapologetic attitude that demanded respect. Jay knew this was his chance to talk with her, so excusing himself from his conversation with the Gunn Brothers he approached her. The usual smirk covered his face as he held out his hand.

“The name’s Jay White but I’m sure you already knew that, and your name must be angel because it looks like you just fell from Heaven.”

Bee looked up from her clipboard with an almost annoyed expression on her face that took him back for a moment.

“Yes I know who you are, and flattery will get you nowhere with me Mr. White now please move along. I have other places of importance to be.”

Walking past him she continued her way down the hall leaving a dumbstruck Jay in her wake. Austin and Colten laughed walking over both wrapping an arm around him, because since they became friends, this was a first.

“I never thought I would ever see the day where a woman would turn down Jay White.”

Colten chuckled watching as Bee made her way down the hallway away from them

“I heard it wasn’t possible that they just automatically all want to jump in bed with him.”

Austin smirked as Jay rolled his eyes shaking them both off him as they went into their locker room grabbing their bags.

“Will you two just shut up bloody hell maybe the fact you guys were around, is why she brushed me off.”

The brothers looked at each other before laughing, causing Jay to flip them both off. Leaving the room, the sound of their laughter followed him.  He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had brushed him off so effortlessly. It was... exciting.

From that moment on, Jay made it his mission to win her over. Whenever Bee was around, Jay would find a reason to be nearby, tossing her a wink or a flirty comment. "Your parents must be bakers because you’re a cutie pie.” or "You know, the ring isn’t the only place I know how to make magic happen."

Bee, however, wasn’t impressed. She remained focused on her job, rolling her eyes at Jay’s antics and refusing to give him the time of day. Her cool demeanor only made Jay try harder.

Jay did everything he could to get Bee’s attention. He hadn’t realized it yet, but he was hooked. Every time they were in the same room his eyes drifted towards her, one day he heard Mark Brisco make her laugh. And it was the best sound he had heard in his life, watching her head fall back slightly as her eyes lit up with happiness. No matter what he did Bee brushed him off, after their last encounter he knew he had to change.

Bee was trying to juggle a bunch of tasks and Jay’s failed attempts at flirting were the last straw.

“Jay, you’re a great wrestler and clearly good at what you do. But I’ve worked too hard to get here to be distracted by some pretty words and a handsome face. If you want to impress me, show me you’ve got more than just a silver tongue. Respect me as a person not just a possible piece of ass.”

For once, Jay was at a loss for words. He realized Bee wasn’t playing hard to get—she was just being honest. She wasn’t impressed by superficial charm, and if he wanted a chance, he’d have to dig deeper.

So, over the next few weeks, Jay dialed back the flirting and started paying attention. He saw how Bee managed the chaos of the production room, how she stayed calm under pressure, and how she treated everyone. The more he watched her the more he realized he wanted to know more than just the work side of her, he wanted to know the woman behind the image she showed everyone.

One day after working late Bee was crossing the parking lot. She hadn’t caught any of her coworkers for a ride and the closest uber was twenty minutes away.

“Need a lift? Maybe even go somewhere and stop off for a drink?”

Turning, she groaned internally when she saw Jay walking out of the building with a bag over his shoulder and keys in his other hand.

“No thank you I appreciate the offer, but I don’t mix business with… whatever this is. And besides, I’m not interested in being another notch on your belt.”

“Wait.”

He said catching up with her and stepped in front of her.

“Look I actually want to apologize.”

“What?”

She asked, completely confused by his words, that was the last thing she ever expected to hear from him.

“Apologize for what?”

“For chasing you and being so persistent while making you feel like I don’t respect you as a human.”

Jay shifted on his feet, for the first time in ages he felt vulnerable as he looked into her eyes.

“I realized that my behavior hasn’t been the best and I wanted to apologize. I just find myself fascinated with you and then to be turned down so many times has been well different.”

Bee looked at him, and for a moment, there was a hint of a smile on her lips. But it quickly faded.

“A woman doesn’t owe you anything Jay and I certainly don’t.”

“I know that and I’m sorry for my behavior I would like to give you a ride and that drink offer is still up. I promise no Switchblade charm will be involved, just Jay. Maybe we could be friends eventually? Or if you rather not I can just walk away after dropping you off wherever it is you’re going.”

Bee eyed him for a moment, weighing her options. She really didn’t want to walk all the way to her hotel, and she was thirsty.

“Alright fine, I’ll take the ride and drink but the first moment you try any funny business I’m gone and you will never get near me again outside of the work place.”

“Deal.”

Holding his hand out Jay smiled as she looked at his hand then held out her own, giving it a shake the two made their way to his car.

“Would it be pushing it if I suggested the idea of getting some food with that drink before I drop you off? You like Italian food?”

Glancing over at him slightly surprised she nodded her head.

“Yeah, I love Italian food it’s my favorite, I suppose food doesn’t sound bad after all you owe me for your terrible flirting.”

“Oi my flirting is top knotch thank you very much.”

Opening the passenger door for her then walking around to his side Jay got behind the wheel. Kicking off her heels Bee sighed, settling back into the comfortable seat, her eyes closing for a moment as she relaxed. Soon arriving at the restaurant, the pair made their way inside grabbing a table.

Jay and Bee's first meal together turned out to be more than just a simple outing—it was the beginning of something new for both of them. Over the course of their conversation while dining, Bee discovered that Jay White, the infamous flirt, was more than his reputation suggested. He talked about his journey from New Zealand to the wrestling world, the struggles of being away from home, and the constant pressure of staying on top. There was a genuine vulnerability in his words, something Bee hadn't expected.

From that night on, things began to shift between them. Jay still had his playful moments, but his approach was different. Instead of throwing around pick-up lines, he’d offer a genuine compliment, ask Bee about her day, or checked in on her when he saw her working late. He was serious when he said he wanted to try and be her friend.

Bee, in turn, began to appreciate these small gestures. She still had her guard up—years of dealing with overconfident athletes and the wrestling world's unpredictable nature had taught her to be cautious. But she found herself enjoying Jay's company more and more. She saw a side of him that wasn’t about bravado or flirtation, but rather a man who genuinely cared about those around him.

One evening, after another long day, Jay found Bee sitting alone in one of the empty stands, looking out at the empty ring. He could see the exhaustion on her face, but also a sense of quiet pride. He walked over and sat down beside her, not saying a word at first.

“You know, I’ve seen a lot of crazy things in my career.”

 Jay began, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

“But I think watching you run a show is right up there.”

Bee chuckled softly, glancing over at him.

“You’re just saying that because I didn’t kick you out of the production truck earlier when you tried to help.”

“Nah that’s not it.”

He chuckled sipping the drink he had in his bag and held out a fresh bottle of water to her.

“I mean it. You’ve got a way of keeping everything together. It’s impressive.”

Bee smiled, feeling a warmth in his words that she hadn’t expected to feel.

“Thanks, Jay. That actually means a lot coming from you.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both enjoying the peace of the empty arena. Finally, Bee spoke up again.

“You know, you’ve surprised me, Jay White. You’re not just the flirt everyone thinks you are.”

Jay looked at her, his expression serious for once but with a softness in his eyes.

“People see what they want to see, Bee. But you… you took the time to see more. And I appreciate that.”

Bee nodded, feeling a connection forming that was deeper than just friendship.

“I guess we’re both full of surprises.”

Jay leaned back, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

“I guess we are.”

“And from that moment on I knew my life would never be the same, now look at us married and enjoying our honeymoon in New Zealand.” Jay looked over at Bee as she adjusted her sunglasses wearing the same smile that captured his heart. They have been lying on the beach together reminiscing about the early days of their relationship.

“Feels like it was yesterday instead of four years ago now. You were so serious I thought I’d never crack that shell of yours.”

Jay mused, his voice low and gentle, not wanting to disturb the calm they had settled into.

Bee opened one eye and gave him a mock glare.

“Maybe I liked keeping you on your toes, White. Besides, you were insufferable back then.”

Jay laughed, a deep, warm sound that made Bee smile as he adjusted his sunglasses.

“I’ll give you that. But come on, admit it you were a little impressed with my persistence. Right?”

She rolled her eyes playfully as she reached out to poke his stomach.

“More like annoyed. But… I guess I was eventually a little curious. You were different from most of the guys I’ve met in the business. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

Jay chuckled, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face.

“I hoped I’d win you over eventually. Just had to show you the real me even if it took you turning me down a lot to do so.”

Bee’s smile softened, and she turned on her side to face him.

“Yeah, you did. And I’m glad you did.”

She paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.

“I was so focused on proving myself, on keeping things strictly professional while also making sure my walls I’d built didn’t crumble. I never thought I’d end up falling for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

He teased, raising an eyebrow as he wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her onto his chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bee laughed, a light, warm sound that Jay loved more every time that he heard it.

“You know exactly what I mean. Mr. ‘Switchblade’ Jay White, the notorious flirt, and ladies' man.”

Jay feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand on his chest as she smiled down at him.

 “Ouch. That’s how you see me?”

A smile crossed her face as she shook her head pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Not anymore. Now I see the guy who stayed up late to help me in the production truck, who took time to listen to my crazy stories, and who made me feel seen when I needed it most. I see the guy who’s got a bigger heart than he lets on.”

“And who is also incredible sexy and your new husband.”

“Yeah yeah sexy and my husband.”

She said as his hands continued to slide over her back as they listened to the waves hitting the shore for a bit longer until a smirk slowly crossed his face.

“You know something, it’s been a while since I’ve shown you how much I love you.”

“We literally did it twice this morning.”

“Yeah, but this is our honeymoon a third time won’t kill us.”

He chuckled standing up and lifting her in his arms as he made his way back towards their beach house. Bee couldn’t help but laugh again as she wrapped her arms around his neck pressing soft kisses to his sun heated skin. That was one of the things she loved about being so close to the water; it didn’t take them very long to get from the beach to the bedroom.

When Jay laid her on the bed, he quickly removed their swimsuits, placing hot wet kisses against her skin. Her hands tangled in his hair as he didn’t bother wasting time before parting her legs and sinking into her wet heat. Their soft gasps and moans soon filled the room as Jay sank into her repeatedly. His lips moving against hers with a hunger that still managed to make her insides quiver. His fingers pinched her nipples smirking as she cried out his name, that was a sound he’d never get tired of.

“Jay please.”

“Shh let go for me baby we’re just getting started.”

[spine-buster]

just friends, pt. 2

aka, another time it could have happened again

gif credit @/besthimbomachine

Length: 3704 words Summary: It's New Year's Eve. Tyson and Hazel's favourite holiday is New Year's Eve. A beautiful dress doesn't quite help any New Year's resolutions. A/N: This series is slowly taking over my mind. This is some more blue balls for you all before we finally get to a sequel.

31 December 2019

Hazel took time to get ready for AEW’s New Year’s Eve party; she took time shaving and exfoliating in the shower, lathering herself in lotion, curling her hair, applying her makeup, slipping into her dress.  She took time looking at herself in the mirror, happy with how she looked.  It took a while to get here, literally and figuratively, but judging by the colour of her dress and the slit that reached up her thigh, she was, firmly, here.  Happy.

The party was to be held in TIAA Bank Arena for the entire roster, and while she knew she wasn’t running late, she knew Tyson would be. 

Can you hurry your ass up?

Perfection takes time, hunny

You are the worst person alive

Hazel snorted to herself at Tyson’s text, if only because she could picture so perfectly him saying it in person, too – if he were ever on time.  Regardless, she waited out in the hotel lobby, scrolling through her phone.  She saw some personal stories posted from some other friends already at TIAA Bank Arena, seeing all the decorations, the bar set up, and the hors d’oeuvres already being served.  She was starving.  If Tyson made her miss the hors d’oeuvres, she was going to kill him.

Her instincts told her to look up, and when she did, she saw Tyson walking towards her wearing a nice button up shirt and a pair of pressed slacks that fit him perfectly.  He looked good, but to Hazel, he always did, even though she couldn’t say it out loud.  She thanked the Lord it looked like he scrubbed all the spray tan off too, and trimmed his beard so it wasn’t too scraggly.  Sometimes she thought it looked so, and she made sure to tell him.  ‘It looks better when it’s shorter, Ty,’ she’d tell him, and usually within twelve hours it would be at a length she loved.  It was kind of like when he told her how he liked her long hair, how he didn’t want her to cut it again after she had chopped most of it off into a long bob a few years ago now.  Hazel went for regular trims so her hair was healthy and grew it out to a length that cascaded down her back.

Okay, so maybe they did say it out loud from time to time.

“Did you order the Uber?” she asked when he was close, but he didn’t answer.�� She waited patiently for a response, but didn’t get one.  Tyson didn’t respond because his eyes were travelling from her face down her body, the dress accentuating every beautiful curve and line.  “Kenneth!”

He snapped out of it.  “What?!”

“You’re going to make me miss the hors d’oeuvres,” she said.

“No I’m not,” he said.  “The Uber’s two minutes away.  Let’s go wait outside.”

He walked behind her, watching her ass in the dress.  He had to think of the smell of his hockey team’s locker room from 20 years ago to prevent himself from getting a fucking erection in the lobby of a hotel.  He wanted to punch himself for thinking what he was; for thinking about what he wanted to do to her in that dress.  The things he could get away with.  The things she’d let him get away with.

If it was the right time.

“You look great by the way,” he said nonchalantly, barely making eye contact with her as they stood outside waiting for the Uber to pull up to the door.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hazel was almost bashful, running her hands down the fabric that covered the front of her thighs.  “You don’t—you don’t think it’s too m—”

“Nah, no way,” he cut her off, shaking his head vehemently.  “Everything…you just, you look incredible, Haze.”

“Thanks, Ty.  I mean it.”

He looked at her finally, a small smile on his face.  “If any of the guys hit on you tonight, you’ll know why.”

Before Hazel could say that none of the guys would hit on her as long as he was around (except for Austin, probably, and even then it would be as a joke), and before she could blurt out something stupid like “I wish you’d be the one to hit on me,’, their Uber rolled up in front of them.  She climbed into the back, trying to get her dress not to bunch up too much.  Tyson hopped in after her, staying behind the passenger seat.  “TIAA Bank Arena, please,” Tyson said to the driver before looking out the window to distract himself.

***

At the party, Tyson didn’t appreciate how he and Hazel were separated.  She had been whisked away early on and he watched her order gin and tonic with lime from the bar.  He hung out with some of the guys but the eye he kept on her in the dress was near constant.  New Year’s was his favourite holiday and he wanted to spoil himself by staring at her – sue him. He wanted to spoil himself in more ways, but he knew he couldn’t.  It was getting harder the more he saw her smile, the more he saw her laugh, the more he saw her cheeks flush red and her smile get wider as the night passed, taking pictures and laughing at jokes and singing along with the music.

For what it was worth, Hazel noticed.  She noticed Tyson’s eyes on her almost the entire night, stuck on her as she giggled and smiled and sipped her drink.  She could tease him all night if she really wanted to, and she knew it.  But instead of doing that – instead of teasing him more than she already was – she decided to whisk herself away to the bathroom, if only to cool herself down and reapply her lipstick. 

As she bent over the vanity to reapply her lipstick in the mirror, the door opened and in walked Tyson.  He stared at her through the mirror, smiling as he shut the door behind him and leaned against it.  “Hey,” his voice was soft.

“Hey you.”

“You okay?” Tyson asked quietly.

“Of course,” Hazel nodded.  She picked up her glass filled with ice and a lime.  “This is water.”

“It is?”

“I keep asking the bartender to fill it with just tonic water,” she revealed, smiling.  “You know how I always like to remember New Year’s.”

Tyson couldn’t help but smile at her little scheme, pushing himself away from the door and taking the few steps towards her.  “Yeah.  Of course.  Just like me.”

“We promised, didn’t we?” she maintained direct eye contact with him through the mirror.

“We did,” he said, remembering their conversation and promise in Tokyo all those years ago. His hand went to her waist, without warning. Then it snaked around, his hand resting on her lower belly. Hazel looked at him through the mirror. “Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” his voice was low.

A smile broke out on her face; one she could barely conceal. “Mhmm,” she nodded her head quickly. She placed her hand over his, intertwining their fingers slightly. “You’re getting real handsy, Ty.”

“Sorry,” he didn’t mean it.

“You don’t have to apologize. You just have to…be careful.”

“Of what?”

“Yourself,” she deadpanned, biting her bottom lip mischievously.  “You’re your own worst enemy sometimes, you know that?”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Smirking at each other through the mirror, Tyson slowly pulled his hand away from her, but didn’t step away from her body.  “Are you having fun?”

“The most fun,” Hazel closed her lipstick, turning around so she was finally facing him and not looking at him through a mirror.  “You know how much I love all these rapscallions.  Are you?”

“Now I am.”

***

When there was about five minutes to go, the waitresses and caterers began pouring the champagne into the flutes.  Hazel watched as each one filled up one by one, everybody gathering together to watch the final minutes.  As the champagne was passed around, Hazel accepted her flute graciously.  Tyson, of course, politely declined. 

“Can I have his?” she asked the waitress, who was more than willing to oblige.

With two champagne flutes in her hands, the final minutes were dwindling.  Tyson stood beside her, watching on, a smile on his face.  The excitement in the air was palpable.  The countdown was always the best part.  And when the last minute of the year hit, he watched as Hazel performed an excited jig. 

Then, thirty seconds left.  They both turned towards the TV again, counting down with the growing number of their friends shouting out the numbers.  Tyson grew more and more emphatic with his screaming of the numbers the closer they got.  Hazel screamed along, careful not to spill her champagne.

Five!...Four!...Three!...Two!...One!...Haaaaaappy New Year!

Hazel screamed along with everyone else, raising her hands with the champagne flutes up in the air for dramatic effect.  Tyson was screaming along with everyone and clapping his hands.  She could see Austin and Britt already sharing a New Year’s kiss, and a few others, too.  She brought the first of the champagne flutes to her lips to drink, to suppress what she really wanted to do.  Hopefully the moment would pass.

When she looked into Tyson’s eyes after downing the second flute, she saw everything she loved about him; everything she was so desperate to have but desperate to keep hidden, to keep locked away in some small compartment within her.  “Happy New Year, Ty.”

His smile was soft, but light, and genuine.  “Happy New Year, Haze.”

***

It was nearing two in the morning by the time Tyson and Hazel decided to call it a night.  There were still plenty of people at the party, and they were still all giggly and smiley, but they wanted to go back to the hotel.  Tyson ordered the taxi as Hazel said goodbye to everyone, kissing everyone’s cheek and hugging them tight.  When they left the venue, Tyson walked behind her again, watching her hips and ass move in her dress. 

The car pulled up in no time.  Hazel crouched into the taxi first, shifting all the way over to the other side.  She could immediately feel how cool the air was in the car, in such contrast to the humidity outside.  As Tyson climbed in after her, her body shivered.  “Hyatt Regency, please,” she said to the driver, watching as Tyson close the door behind him.

As the taxi driver signalled to rejoin the road, Tyson moved so he was in the middle seat, practically in her seat.  Then, his hand went straight to her thigh, where the slit of her dress exposed as much leg as it could.  Her eyebrows rose playfully.  “What d’you think you’re doing?” she asked playfully.

“What?” he asked non-chalant, the smallest of smirks building on his face.  “Not like my hand’s never been there before.  Plus, you shivered.  Body heat is paramount.”

Between training and matches, and between, well…he wasn’t technically wrong.  But he still knew he was pushing it, and Hazel knew he was pushing it too.  While she appreciated the physical touch – she always did with Tyson – she knew it wasn’t the right or the best thing to do.  “Oh Tyson,” she chastised him, leaning back against the window.  “You know what would be even better?” she asked as her hand went to lay on top of his on her thigh, their fingers slightly intertwining.

His hand attempted to go higher, closer to her core, but she stopped him.  “What’s that?” he asked.

“If you gave me a foot massage.”

He pretend gagged and she laughed out, knowing that he hated anything to do with feet.  “Now why the fuck would I do that?”

“Cause you love me,” she said.  “And these heels are awful.”

“They look great.”

“Beautiful but awful.”

“Why don’t you just take them off?”

She rolled her eyes.  Men.  “The first rule of heels is you can’t take them off until it’s the end of the night.  Your feet won’t fit back in them if you do, and it actually becomes more painful to walk in them again.”

Tyson shook his head.  “Beauty is pain, I guess.”

“So I guess I’m not getting a foot massage, huh?” she smiled.

“No chance.”

They chatted and joked for the short ride back to the hotel, wishing the driver a Happy New Year and tipping generously with cash so he didn’t have to claim it.  The second Tyson’s hand left her thigh and his body left her side, she felt the loss.  She hated admitting so.  She buried the feeling again as she stepped out of the car.  But before Hazel could even shut the door, Tyson’s hands were on her again.

Except this time, he lifted her up dramatically into a fireman’s carry.  She yelped loudly, acutely aware that despite her dress still being on and the fabric covering everything it needed to cover, her ass was in the air.  “Tyson!”

“Oh will you stop,” he mimicked Gorilla Monsoon perfectly.  “You said your feet hurt!”  He began walking towards the door and through the foyer.  Hazel could feel her body heat up from embarrassment as she saw the concierge look at them.  What a sight to see at two in the morning.  She was thankful that nobody else was lingering around.  “Better than walking, huh?”

“Can you at least carry me like a normal person so my ass isn’t in the air?”

Carefully, so as to not tear at her dress, they transitioned like they were in the ring in-between wrestling moves, and eventually, Tyson was carrying her bridal style.  She pressed the button for the elevator before looking into his eyes and cradling his face in her hand.  “Hey Tys?”

“Hmm”?

“Thanks for carrying me.”

“I’d do anything for you.  You know that.”

“I know that, but your back is bad.”

“Doesn’t matter.  Your feet hurt.”

Her heart swelled.  Tyson had always been so good to her, and her to him, but she revelled in this sweet moment as much as she could.  It was only when Tyson’s face started to get closer did her heart begin fluttering instead of swelling.  “Ty…” she whispered. 

“You smell delectable,” he mumbled. 

“That’s Jo Malone for you,” she tried to joke, even though she knew it wouldn’t hit.  Tyson’s mind was somewhere else as she dug through her purse for their room key.  She shoved it into the reader, the little light turning green before she opened the door for them.  Tyson carried her into the room without even looking where he was going, the hair on his beard tickling the sensitive skin on her neck.  She couldn’t help but smile and giggle.  “Ty…”

“Let me put you on the bed,” his voice was husky all of a sudden.  He placed her down on the bed but followed her down, his face still in the crook of her neck, his body looming over hers.  “Christ, Hazel…”

Even though she was smiling, and even though almost every inch of her wanted this and could have had so, so much fun with it, she couldn’t.  Trouble – that’s what this was.  They could get into a lot of trouble this way.  “That’s not the best idea, Ty,” Hazel whispered as she felt Tyson’s nose on her décolletage, on her clavicle, on her neck.  She knew his lips were next.

“Why not?”

She giggled.  “You already felt up my thigh in the taxi.  You just want to because you’re hyped from the party.  New Year’s has always been your favourite holiday.”

“Our favourite holiday.”

“Regardless,” she smiled to herself like a Cheshire cat, “you shouldn’t do much more, Ty.  It wouldn’t be right.”

He knew she was right, fuck he knew she was right, but he gritted his teeth and bit his tongue.  ‘Yes it would be right’ he thought.  ‘Anything we do is right.  Anything we’ve ever done has been right.  It’s been right because it’s been with each other.’  He dislodged himself from her neck and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room.  “It’s that dress, too,” he said to mask everything he was feeling, in a tone that covered any agony with humour.

Hazel’s smile didn’t leave her face.  “It’s always the dress, huh?”

Tyson stayed silent, continuing to stare at the ceiling, trying to collect his thoughts.  His arm was up above his head, the back of his hand resting on his forehead.  “Sorry Hazel,” his voice was soft and low.

“You don’t have to apologize.  I just don’t want you doing something you’ll regret later.”

‘But I won’t regret it’ he thought to himself.  “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded slightly.  “Thanks for always looking out for me, Haze.”

“You know I always will.”

Both of them took deep breaths, staring up at the ceiling as they lay in bed.  Tyson couldn’t get the images out of his mind of Hazel at the party posing for photos, laughing, her legs glistening in the light.  Her beautiful smile that took up half her face.  The shine of her hair down her back.   Fuck.

He felt Hazel shift beside him.  When he looked over, she had lifted her knee to her chest, stretching to grab the buckle of her heels.  The material of her dress rode up her thighs, exposing more of her skin.  They came off one by one, with Hazel haphazardly throwing them to the side on the floor.  He watched as she pushed herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, her back now facing him.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Hey Tys?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you unzip me?”

He shot up, but tried not to look too eager.  He moved so he was directly behind her, watching as she gathered her hair over one shoulder.  He grabbed the small zipper of her dress with his big hands.  He took his sweet ass time pulling it down; Hazel knew he would.  A part of her wanted to tease him so badly, only because she knew she had the power to at the moment.

When he was finished, he didn’t say anything.  Instead, Hazel sensed it and she stood up from the bed, not bothering to look back at him.  He watched her as she walked through the room, watched as she reached her suitcase and promptly dropped her dress to the floor, leaving her in only her underwear in front of him.  He caught glimpses of the curves of her breasts as she threw her hair up in a ponytail and dug through her suitcase to find her pyjamas.  His mind took him back to Tokyo and it was like a magic trick how he could remember the feeling of them in his hands when they made love.

Hazel went into the washroom and closed the door behind her, and Tyson knew it was so she could wash off her makeup.  The memories of the night they’d just had flooded his mind, interspersed with memories of Tokyo.  Her dress.  The first time she wore one of his t-shirts after crashing at his apartment in Shinjuku.  Her being backstage after the G1 Climax.  Her laughing at his dumb joke at the bar.  Her lips around the straw of her drink.  Her hand over his when he grabbed at her thigh inside the taxi.

When Hazel got out of the washroom, clean-faced and with her hair in a bun, she noticed Tyson laying back down on the bed, still in his clothes from the party.  When she moved closer, she realized that instead of using the time she was in the bathroom to change, he hadn’t.  Now, he sleeping in his pants and shirt, an arm draped across his chest.  He looked so peaceful in his slumber Hazel almost didn’t want to disturb him.  But she knew what she had to do.

She crawled onto the bed slowly, making sure not to disturb him, and began to pull his belt out of the loop and unbuckle it.  When she tugged slightly, he moved his arm, and it wasn’t until she unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them did he groggily open his eyes.  “Hazel?” he asked.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

Considering what he had been thinking of before he fell asleep, he wasn’t sure if this was reality or a dream.  The fact that her hands were near his crotch was enough to make him confused.  “What’re you—”

“You can’t sleep in your party clothes, Tys.  Lift your hips for me.”

He did as he was told, and felt Hazel pulling his pants down, all the way down, until he was left in his boxers.  She moved to his shirt and started unbuttoning it for him.  In his mental haze of still not knowing if this was a dream or reality, he bought his hand up and placed it over hers.  She stopped and looked at him.  “I’d do anything for you,” he whispered softly.

A smile spread across her face.  “I’d do anything for you too.  Let me take this off you now, okay?”

Her hands were soft as they glided across his chest and up to his broad shoulders to push his shirt back.  It came off easily.  Hazel noticed Tyson’s heavy eyes.  “Get your head on a pillow, Tys.  You’ll be more comfortable.”

He pushed himself back and settled himself; meanwhile, Hazel pulled back the covers, got underneath them, and pulled them over their bodies.  She snuggled into his back, his body heat radiating onto her.  She paused for a moment, her lack of judgement winning out against her better judgement as she placed three kisses along Tyson’s shoulder.  She dragged her lips along his skin between them, making sure her lips lingered on his skin when she was done.  “That okay?”

He groaned slightly in response, nodding his head.  “That feels so nice,” he sighed out.

Hazel couldn’t help but appreciate the sentiment.  “Let’s go to sleep, Tys.  Tomorrow when we wake up there’ll be a whole new year of memories we can make together.”

Always together.

[visionarystoryteller]

Executives Love Masterlist

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EVP Matthew Jackson — Matthew Massie

Valerie — Noa Kennedy (OC)

Angelo Parker — Jeffrey Parker

EVP Nicholas Jackson — Nicholas Massie

Ruby Soho — Dori Prange

Anna Jay — Anna Jernigan

Daddy Magic — Matt Menard

Chris Jericho — Chris Irvine

TK — Tony Kahn

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Warnings: Minors DNI, miscarriage, depressing thoughts, cheating, grief, smut

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*This is simply a work of fanfiction*

Summary:

After returning from personal leave due to a miscarriage with Jeff’s baby, Noa is finally back. While on leave, Jeff aka Angelo, had started a storyline with Dori aka Ruby. The pair quickly fell into routine but broke the one thing Jeff thought he’d never do. Struggling with the thought of losing his and Noas baby, he turned to Dori and the two began a dance of feelings, leading to Jeff cheating on Noa while she was away. The couple continued their rendezvous throughout their storyline, the world not fully picking up that he was cheating on his dear Noa aka Valerie.

The night of Noas return, Dori announced she was pregnant. At first Noa thought it was for the storyline, which hurt a little but then she saw the look on Jeff’s face and it was the exact one he gave her when she announced to him she was pregnant. All chaos broke loose when Jeff and Dori returned backstage hand in hand, looking at each other with love and adoration.

All the hurt was permanently written on Noas face and her heart. She walked away before things could get worse, hating real life confrontations, despite being a professional wrestler who was always in confrontations.

Upon her return to the wrestling world, rumors and speculation started about the nature of Noa, Jeff and Dori. If she had still been with WWE she had no doubt they would make her work with both of them to continue a highly emotional storyline, but with TK being like a brother to Noa, Jericho, a producer, being like a father to her and her close friends the EVPs Matt and Nick Jackson, they had decided it was to personal for their friend, their family.

Heartbreak, love, adventure awaits in Noas world as she returns. Read along and find out if Noa will ever be the same or if she’ll ever find that love again.

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Chapters:

1 — HERE

2 — HERE

3 — HERE

4 — HERE

5 — HERE