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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.

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