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desiredposion · 2 years ago

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Cap and Mrs. Cap will never get old 🥺

i want you to give in | nico hischier

summary: tension can only build for so long, eventually it will have to snap.

warnings: suggestive themes, swearing

wc: 2.6k+

You and Nico had only been friends a couple of months, but that didn’t stop the growing tension every time you were in the same room.

Becoming close friends with a bunch of professional hockey players was not on your bingo card for the year. Yet, here you are, knocking on the door of Jack and Luke’s shared apartment.

You had met Luke at a bar when your so-called “friends” dragged you out for the night, then proceeded to ditch you for some random guys they had run into.

Luke noticed your sunken form at the corner of the bartop, looking as out of place as he felt. He took the opportunity to introduce himself, buying you a drink in the process. After the two of you hit it off, he made sure to stay by your side the rest of the night. When you told him about your friend's leaving, he took it upon himself to integrate you into the tight-knit hockey crowd in the back of the wide room.

You immediately fell into a comfortable conversation with a shaggy-haired boy named Dawson. These boys, along with the select girlfriends and wives, welcomed you with open arms. Only about an hour or so had passed when he showed up.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you were drawn to him. Maybe it was the way he carried himself with such confidence, but not enough to seem arrogant. Or, perhaps, it was the way his tight shirt clung to the defined muscles along his torso.

Watching his movements grow closer, you saw a few of the other boys side-hug him, clearly excited by his presence. You leaned closer to Dawson’s side, trying to get a better view of the captivating brunette man. Dawson noticed your proximity, following your gaze to see where your focus had drifted to. He smirked.

“Whatcha lookin' at?” He asked smugly.

Your eyes widened as you realized you had been caught staring. Hard. A warm blush crept up your neck as you averted to look at anything else. “N-nothing, just people watching.” You had hoped he bought your excuse, but the look on Dawson’s face proved otherwise.

“Oh no, no, no. That was definitely not nothing. I saw you making goo-goo eyes at Cap over there.” This time it was your turn to make a face.

“Cap?”

Dawson nodded, “Yeah, that's Nico. Our captain.”

Nico.

Even his name was hot.

But what had you almost on your knees was when a pair of big, deep brown eyes met your own. Your breath hitched as Nico’s eyes raked down your body. If it was any other guy, you’d typically be bothered, but there was a strange feeling of comfort in his gaze.

His tongue darted out to wet his slightly-chapped lips and, if you weren’t so flustered, you could have sworn you saw Nico’s chest begin to rise quicker. Neither of you looked away from each other, not until Jack’s drunk form flung into Nico’s. The moment may have been fleeting, but the feeling Nico had left on you wasn’t.

❥.

You didn’t run into Nico again until Luke had invited you to a Devil’s function at the Haula household. You were nervous, staying silent the entire ride over.

“Are you alright?” Luke’s voice echoed in your ears, snapping you back to reality.

“Mhm, yeah. I’m okay, just a little nervous, I guess.” You bit your lip, looking back out of the window.

“Aw, c’mon, Y/n. You’ve already met almost everyone that’s gonna be there. They all love you.”

You just gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. You had failed to mention your little “encounter” with Nico the week prior. Simply because you felt it was too insignificant to bring up to your new friend, especially with the man in question being Luke’s captain.

When the car finally parked in front of the big house, you felt yourself hesitating. You knew Nico was already inside, as Luke had been running behind on his way to pick you up. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about Nico that made your heart race and knees wobbly, but it was hard to hide his effect on your body.

“You coming?” Luke walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for you.

It was now or never.

You followed Luke into the house, quickly being welcomed by familiar faces. Although the face you were most anxious to see was nowhere to be found. You felt your stomach drop a little bit at his absence but shook off the feeling as Dawson made his way to you.

“Hey, y/n/n! How ya been? I haven’t seen you in forever…” He whined, making you laugh.

“I literally saw you last week Daws, but I’m just fine.” You let your eyes drift over Dawson’s shoulder briefly, still not seeing Nico.

“Ah, I see,” Dawson drawled, making your eyes shoot back toward his, “You’re just concerned with finding “Mr. Pretty-Brown-Eyes.”

“Dawson!” You slapped him slightly, “I texted you that in confidence!” You looked around to make sure no one had heard the loud boy’s comment. Seeing as everyone was preoccupied, you let out a relieved sigh.

He threw his hands up in surrender, “Sorry, sorry! But, you can’t deny it. You’ve looked like a lost puppy since you and Luke stepped through the door.”

“Oh, whatever, I have not.” You pouted.

“Have to- Oh look! There’s Nico!”

You whipped your head in the direction Dawson was looking, only to be met with an empty wall. You turned back, stone-faced.

“Haha, very funny, Mercer. Very funny.” You rolled your eyes at his antics, genuinely starting to feel a little sad that you hadn’t seen Nico yet.

“C’mon, I can help you find him.”

You shook your head in protest, “No, no, absolutely not. Nope.”

Dawson’s brows furrowed, “Why not? You very obviously want to see him.”

“For your information, Dawson, I haven’t ever actually talked to him before.” You turned up your nose, rejecting the idea.

“So you’re delusional?” Dawson deadpanned.

Your jaw dropped, “Well, damn. Way to call a girl out.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m kidding..for the most part,” You gave him a pointed look, “Just come on, I’ll introduce you as my friend. I’ll even start the conversation. It’ll be fine, y/n/n.”

“Not happening. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find the bathroom.”

“Sure, sure, escape just when I give you the opportunity of a lifetime.”

You opted to ignore Dawson as you walked away, heading to the set of stairs that led to the second story. Having overheard someone ask earlier, you knew the bathroom was somewhere upstairs. Turning knobs, you eventually found the bathroom, walking in to do your business.

Once you had finished, you opened the door to leave, not really paying attention to your surroundings. You stumbled back as you ran straight into a hard chest.

“Shit!” Your hand flew to cover the slight red spot on your forehead, “I’m so so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going!” You apologized profusely, still not looking to see who you ran into.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty girl. It was my fault.” The sound of a thick accent made your skin heat up. You looked up slightly, meeting Nico’s eyes. You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t think we’ve met, properly. I’m Nico.” He flashed his dimples.

Oh god.

“I know who you are,” You panicked, “I-I mean, I’m Y/n.”

He laughed, “Well then, I know who you are too.”

“You do?” You peered up at him through your lashes, leaning your back against the door frame.

Nico nodded, eyes slightly hooded. “Yeah, I saw you with Luke at the bar last week. You were wearing that black dress.”

Your breath picked up at his statement. “You remember what I was wearing?” You silently cursed yourself for not being able to muster up any other words.

Nico’s arm rose to rest above your head as he leaned closer down to you, “How could I not remember? It’s kind of hard to forget someone like you.”

Before you could reply, you heard footsteps rushing up the stairs.

“Hey, cap! You up here?”

With your nerves getting the best of you, you took the chance to slip out of his bubble, quickly making your way back downstairs.

Holy shit.

❥.

Your encounters with Nico became more frequent, as you often were with the boys. The little flirty remarks only worsened, except now Nico took a liking to placing lingering touches on your body.

Grabbing your hips to move you over, or slightly pulling your hand to lead you through public places. It felt as if he would find any excuse to touch you. Not that you were complaining, but it left your mind hazy. You would like to think he was into you the way you were him, but you couldn’t be sure.

You knew hockey players had “conquests,” and you weren’t really in the market to be one. So, you kept your feelings to yourself, not ready to face the harsh reality of Nico not being serious about pursuing you, at least romantically speaking. Which led you to now, meeting at the Hughes’ apartment for the weekly movie night.

The whole ordeal started after a night out in which mostly everyone got too hammered to get home safely. Tonight’s movie agenda was the entire “Hunger Games” series since Luke has been wanting to go see the newest that just hit theaters.

After Jack let you in the apartment, you made a b-line to the side room off the hallway that held all the blankets. You made sure to get the same one every movie night, refusing to share with anyone else. Curling up in your usual corner, a knock at the door stilled the apartment.

“Who’s that?” Dawson asked Luke, who was making popcorn in the kitchen.

“It’s probably Nico. He wanted to start joining us for movie night.”

You felt your body perk up at the new information, you’d be seeing Nico weekly. Another knock followed after a minute.

“Could one of you please get that? I’m busy perfecting this popcorn.”

“It’s literally just popcorn, Luke.” Dawson remarked.

“No, there is the perfect butter-to-popcorn ratio that I have figured out. Now, please, let the captain inside.”

Dawson, who just sat down, turned to you, “Can you let Cap in, y/n/n?” He smirked, “I’m still trying to get comfortable.”

You narrowed your eyes in his direction, clearly picking up on what he was trying to do.

“Guys?” Luke called, “It’s gonna get awkward if you don’t let him in.”

Huffing, you rose from your spot, “I’m going, I’m going. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Luke.”

You gripped the cold metal doorknob, taking a deep breath before opening it.

Whoa.

You felt yourself shamelessly check out Nico’s attire, his muscular form clad in grey sweats and a simple black t-shirt. An action that did not go unnoticed by Nico.

He smirked, gently brushing past you, “Who’s panties are in a twist?”

Goosebumps rose upon your heated skin.

A man that hot should never be allowed to say panties so casually.

By the time you got back to your spot, a certain Swiss male had decided to occupy the once-perfect corner seat. Your shoulders slumped slightly, you felt a whine build up in your throat.

“Nico, you know I always sit there.” You pouted at him, sending a glare his way.

He chuckled, “Don’t worry, we can share. My lap still has plenty of room.”

You could have sworn you stopped breathing. The way his brown eyes shined into yours made you almost hopeful that his smooth words were more than just a ploy, but doubt still rang clear in your ears. Before you could respond, Jack and Luke entered the living room, both with bowls full of popcorn.

“Hey Y/n, would you mind going to grab some more blankets for everyone? We have our hands full with this popcorn.” Jack asked you, sending you a grateful smile.

You eagerly accepted the offer to escape. Opening the closet door, you quickly shut it halfway, taking a moment to compose yourself.

In and out, Y/n. In and out.

Once your breathing was semi-normal, you turned around grabbing an armful of random blankets. As you turned once more, this time to leave, you ran into a hard chest.

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this, pretty girl.” Nico’s voice echoed in your ears as he quietly shut the door behind him. You scoffed, placing the blankets on the shelf beside you. Crossing your arms, you looked into Nico’s eyes.

“And you really need to stop calling me that.” You slightly cringed at how harsh your words sounded through the small space. Nico’s face fell slightly.

“Why’s that? Hm?” He quirked his head to the side, slowly backing you up until you hit the wall. You did your best to control the raging fire in your chest or the way your skin crawled at his proximity.

“Because you don’t mean it, at least not seriously mean it.”

Nico placed his hands softly on your hips, gripping them into his own. “I mean what I say. I haven’t been playing with you, ya know.” His face now had a pink twinge as he looked down, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for weeks, but every time I say something you run away.”

You looked away from him guiltily. He wasn’t making it up, you did try and find any possible reason to avoid him when he started getting flirty. Only because you knew he wasn't truly into you, or at least thought he wasn’t.

Nico’s hand reached up to turn your head back towards him, your lips only inches apart. You could feel his shallow breaths fanning on your aching lips. It was tempting, being so close to him. He was a drug and you were trying so hard not to get addicted.

“I only ran because,” You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because why, schatzi?”

A whimper almost escaped your throat at his choice of name.

“Because I didn’t want to give in.” Your words hung around the both of you. You didn’t know where to look, nervous for Nico’s response.

“I do,” You darted your eyes into Nico’s at his low voice, “I want you to give in.”

“Nico-”

“No,” He cut you off, lips now brushing against yours, “Don’t pretend you can’t feel it.”

I just want to give in.

Your hand reached up to Nico’s jaw, finally pulling him down to crash your lips together. The kiss was desperate, both of you hot and needy for each other. Nico groaned into the kiss, pulling your hips deeper into him. His tongue danced across your bottom lip, begging for entrance. Letting him in, you whined at the taste.

You finally pulled away, breathless.

“Wow.” That’s all you could muster. You could feel Nico’s racing heartbeat under your fingertips where your hand rested on his chest.

He rested his forehead against yours, nodding slightly.

“Yeah, wow.”

You nudged his head up, his doe-eyes peering into yours. You opened your mouth to say something but were quickly cut off, once again.

“Before you say anything, just know that I’m serious about you. I think I have been since I saw you at that bar.”

You bit the inside of your lip, “Promise?”

Nico placed a sweet kiss on your nose, “Promise.”

The moment was temporary, being ruined by a loud voice, “Cap and Mrs. Cap! Get your asses out here and quit fucking each other. I am NOT in the mood to be an uncle.”

“Screw you, Dawson!”

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desiredposion · 2 years ago

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Book Tyson 🥺

“Oh no, there is only one bed, what will we do now?” Mmmm Tyson Jost perhaps?

A CLASSIC

PAIRING: tyson jost x reader

SUMMARY: tyson's girlfriend is always reading and one day, he decides to see what all the hype's about

WARNING(S): fluffy fluff, tyson being a cutie, me indulging in reader!josty fantasies i keep close to my heart, slightly suggestive ending

LENGTH: 603

from this prompt list

"Babe! Can you come here for a sec?" Tyson yells from the second floor of your shared home.

He'd made a beeline for your bedroom when he came home from the rink earlier, but you'd been too wrapped up in a few last minute tasks for work to investigate. Once you finished, you still gave him space, assuming he had something private he wanted to do. Now, a few hours later, you were being summoned.

The house is quiet as you climb up the stairs. Too quiet.

"Tyson?" you ask, confused.

The bedroom door's been left slightly ajar and light from inside streams into the darkened hallway. You knock lightly when he doesn't answer you. There's some shuffling and then he calls out, "Come in!"

When you step inside, he's standing at the edge of your bed, staring down at it like the pillows and throw blankets had done something unforgivable to personally offend him.

"Oh no, there is only one bed, what will we do now?" your boyfriend throws up his hands, feigning distress.

It's a good thing he's a great hockey player because there is not an Academy Award in his future.

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, looking from him to the book open and facedown on his nightstand - one of the high fantasy romance novels you were fond of, but he never cared too much about. "Are you mocking me?"

Tyson's face falls a little at the implication. "What? Why would I do that?"

"Because we have been together for four years and not once have you ever read something from my shelf," you say, gesturing to the overflowing bookshelf tucked against the adjacent wall. There's a gap where the book of his choosing had lived. "You are a strictly graphic novels and crime fiction kind of guy. What are you doing reading that?"

"Research," he says, smiling wide and bright.

"Research?" you ask, still skeptical.

"I wanted to know why you become a hermit once you start one of them," Tyson says and you roll your eyes. His face goes serious, but remains soft around the edges. "On my drive home today I realized how crazy it is that there's something you love that I know nothing about because I haven't put in the effort. I want to be able to ask you questions about magic systems and storylines, and I want to share your excitement when you come running into the garage screaming because two characters finally kissed after 800 pages of pining. So, I'm doing research."

Your heart swells. "No one has ever done that for me before."

"I know," his smile deepens, the ends kissing his eyes. "I'm the first, but I'm also the last. Will you marry me?" you boyfriend asks, looking up at you with nothing short of pure adoration.

You always knew you would marry Tyson Jost. It was never a matter of "if," only "when." But, never in a million years did you ever think he'd be down on one knee in the middle of your bedroom after announcing his commitment to reading more faerie porn. It couldn't be more perfect.

"It's always been a 'yes,' Tyson," you say, nodding.

He hums as he slides the ring onto your finger. He kisses your knuckle, the back of your hand, and then your wrist. When he looks up at you again, his eyes are glossy. "I know, but now it's official."

"So, did you get any ideas during your research?" you ask, voice light with flirtation and elation.

His eyes twinkle as he quickly stands and wraps his arms around you. "Oh, loads."

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desiredposion · 2 years ago

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Tyson home with a cold blurb! I too am home with a cold. We can all be unwell together

Noooo cold season is hitting us all hard :( hope you feel better soon

Tyson is literally the worst sick person in the world, I just know it

Not in an annoying, demanding, helpless way

But in a denying way. He will never admit when he doesn’t feel good, even if he’s at the point of physically shoving tissues up his nose to stop it from running and eating spoonfuls of honey just so he can chatter through his sore throat

Which is what he did for a whole week

The first day you noticed that he was just a little droopy in the morning, dragging his feet to practice and denying his usual cup of coffee from you

Odd since he’s such an early bird

The second day he’s still dragging but now he’s got red rimmed eyes and will only eat bananas, toast, or plain noodles. When he denies steak for dinner you know something is really wrong

On the third day he’s still as chatty as usual, blabbering to you about any and everything but he’s walking with a tilt, like it physically hurts him to move. You’d think he just got banged up in last night’s game but as the week had shown you, Tyson is succumbing to the winter cold.

He denies. Tells you he’s just tired, it’s been a busy week, back to back games, blah blah blah. Even so, you stock up on soup, tissues, and medicine.

The fourth day is when you really know he’s gone. You have to shake him awake after he sleeps through 3 minutes of his alarm. He’s curled up in a hoodie and has stolen all the blankets from you, squeezing them tight to his torso. But his body is not against yours, enough so that you didn’t even realized he’d robbed you of the covers.

And when he finally blinks his eyes open they’re dull and tired, his breath wheezy as he struggles to breathe through his stuffed nose

“Tys skip practice and rest please.”

He mumbles something through his raw throat, trudging into the bathroom to change for morning skate. You can’t force him to stay or let you take his temperature but he does choke down some fever pills and a vitamin C before leaving

Your asleep by the time he returns home that night but by then he’s fully accepted his fate after he was scratched from the game for illness.

He wakes you up with pouty eyes and flat hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, a thick blanket around his shoulder.

“Baby…”

“Yes Tyson?”

“I think I’m getting sick.”

“You are sick Tyson.”

Fully prepared, you tuck him into your shared bed, turning on a Christmas movie while you turn up the heat a bit for him. Then you’re stocking up his night stand with tissue boxes, bottles of water and Gatorade, cold medicine, Tylenol, and cough drops.

You bring him warm chicken broth to drink, stroking his damp hair as he sips his dinner. When he’s done you have him take night time medicine, turning down the lights and letting him curl into your side.

He fights sleep as long as he can, wanting to just lay with you all night but eventually he’s drifted off, lightly snoring through a stuffy nose.

Not that you mind. Because Tyson is an easy sick person. He does what he needs to get better, though it takes him some time to admit he needs it.

And he’s so snuggly when he’s sick you sometimes are glad. You get to have him at home for a few extra days, all to yourself to be dotted on.

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desiredposion · 2 years ago

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The way some of ya'll talk about the money that pro athletes make betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of how any of this works. Absolutely they're not living in poverty or paycheck to paycheck. But they are still people who exchange labour for capital, the vast majority of them are closer to being just like us than they are to being like the billionaires who pay them.

They spend their entire lives being very good at one thing at the sacrifice of education or a backup plan. They exchange their health and physical well-being for that paycheck. If their careers ended tomorrow, most of them would NOT "be fine". The ones on short term (comparatively to their peers) lower paying contracts do NOT have financial or job security.

This is a labour rights issue!! If you watch sports and are entertained by the labour these people provide it's actually insane to dismiss people who point out the relative lack of security that some of these people have! You're not being smart and you're not being progressive

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desiredposion · 2 years ago

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Content for Nils!!! I love it he’s such a sweet boy!

Pastries 'n Dessert

Hey y’all! Happy Halloween if you celebrate it! If not, that’s okay, and I hope you’ve had a wonderful day. I wrote a fluffy sweet fic for y’all about Nils Höglander, one of my favorite Vancouver Canucks besides Quinn. I hope you all enjoy this! Take care of yourself!

Pairing: Nils Höglander x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: None

—

Living, coexisting with Nils was one of the best things that she could list about her life. It was always a warm, relaxing, and calm moment whenever he was around her. He was the rock that grounded her. Whenever she was reading a book, relaxing with him on her couch, or making dinner for the both of them after a game, she was always content. And so was he.

He found it so peaceful when he was with her, a stark contrast to his life as a hockey player in Vancouver. She helped him whenever he needed to relax, or when he needed some support. Her smile was contagious, and it was evident whenever he was around her. She was a breath of life for him.

She moved to Vancouver for a job position that was being offered, and she met Nils on one of her first few days in the area.

“Oof—” she sputtered as she bumped into someone at the supermarket. “I’m so sorry.” She looked up at the man she accidentally bumped into.

His warm smile immediately caught her attention. “It’s okay,” he said gently, a slight accent in his voice.

Her face warmed up at how sweet he was, and she appreciated a friendly encounter for her first time in Vancouver. It was a slightly difficult transition from her hometown to here, getting groceries being a part of it.

“Excuse me, sir?” She turned to face him before continuing her question. His hand froze as he was about to grab something off of the shelf. “Could you help me grab that, please?” She pointed at the can of baking powder that sat high on the top shelf, out of her reach.

He looked at her and smiled, before reaching up and grabbing it for her. As he handed the can of baking powder to her, he noticed how her smile was radiant.

“Thank you so much, sir,” she said as she placed the item in her basket.

He nodded and smiled, “You’re welcome, and I like your dress,”

She looked down at her dress, noticing the simple floral pattern along the hem, and turned her gaze back to the man and blushed slightly. “Thank you,”

As she walked away, she turned back to look at him again, noticing how he smiled softly at her, his cheeks slightly rosy, and she smiled back. They both parted ways in the aisle, going in opposite directions, and she thought that she’d never see him again. Just a friendly guy at the supermarket.

Standing in the flower section of the store, she wandered around, looking at all the assortments of florals. Some were simple and elegant, like a bouquet of red roses, and others were more vibrant, such as a bouquet of tiger lilies. Carefully, she picked up a bouquet full of soft peonies, and held it in her hands as she walked to pay for her groceries.

She paid and bagged her groceries, and walked out of the supermarket into the warm late-summer sun. The breeze brushed past her gently, contrasting with the warm sun like a dance on the street.

Later that evening, she went to relax in her apartment, cozying up in her pajamas on the couch. She grabbed one of her favorite novels and started reading it, getting lost in the words and pages.

When the sun remained warm and soft in the sky, she decided to go out once more, but this time to a local bakery down Main Street. The walk there was peaceful, simple, and quiet. Summer was gently fading away, and she could tell from the cool breeze that was more frequent. Trees aligned along the sidewalk still stood tall and beautiful, the soft petals of blossoming leaves slowly fading away.

Stepping inside the quaint and small bakery, the scent of freshly baked desserts engulfed her senses. She peered into the clear displays that showcased each baked good, deciding on what to pick.

As she was lost in thought, she took a step back and bumped into someone mistakenly.

“Oh—” She cursed to herself before turning around to apologize. “Pardon me, I am so sorry—”

When she looked up, she didn’t expect to see the face of the man she had seen at the supermarket the previous day. “It’s okay,” he chuckled. “Nice to see you again.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake.

Gently taking his hand, she shook it, noticing how warm it felt in hers, and introduced herself.

“That’s a lovely name,” he said warmly. “I’m Nils.” He smiled.

“I like your name as well, Nils.”

His cheeks warmed up at the sound of how nice his name sounded when she said it, and he continued to smile. “What do you plan to get from here today?” he asked curiously. “If you don’t mind telling me of course,” he added.

She let out a friendly laugh, “I don’t mind, but I’m not sure what to get, actually,”

He nodded in understanding and looked at the displays with her, observing the baked goods that were set out. They stood next to each other, side by side in silence. It felt calm beside him, as if she could be beside him for quite a long time without discomfort.

“Should I get a blueberry scone? I’ve never tried it before,” he said, breaking the silence.

She turned to him in shock, “You’ve never tried a blueberry scone before?”

“Well, I’m not from here,” he laughed lightly, awkwardly rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Why don’t I order it and try it? I could get to know to know you as well,”

Her heart warmed at the idea of getting to know Nils a little better, even though she had just met him. “That sounds like a good idea, I’ll get a scone as well,”

They both waited for the bakery clerk to grab them their scones, and as they waited, the soft hum of music flowed through the air.

She looked over to him, noticing how angelic he looked, how his cheeks were strong, and yet soft, how his hair seemed to gently fall on his face, and how his eyes were warm and sweet.

When he noticed her looking, he gave her a smile, and she awkwardly smiled back when she realized that he had noticed.

“Is there something on my face?” he chuckled lightly.

“No, no,” she blurted. “You look fine, I mean good. You look good,”

A soft pink tint covered his face as he smiled, and she became flushed in embarrassment for tripping over her own words.

After a little while, the clerk came out and took their order of two scones and placed it in a bag for the both of them. Once they rang up their order, Nils quickly pulled out his wallet to pay, and put his other hand on her wrist, gently stopping her from reaching into her bag.

“It’s okay, I’ll pay for the both of us,” he said sweetly. She smiled and quietly thanked him.

The worker then handed the bag with their two pastries inside to Nils as he gave them the cash. “Anything else I can get for you lovely couple?”

Both Nils and her became rosy-cheeked in embarrassment for the clerk to mistake them for a couple, but they remained quiet and didn’t correct them. “That’s all for today, thank you so much,” she said kindly.

They then walked outside and sat at a small table underneath a canopy with two chairs across from each other. Nils reached into the bag, pulled out one of the scones, and handed it to her, which she accepted politely.

He carefully took a bite out of the blueberry scone, making sure not to leave crumbs everywhere, and he hummed in delight. “It’s tasty!” His eyes shone with brightness, amplifying his cheeks.

She smiled at him, enjoying his happiness over a scone. “I’m glad to hear that you think it’s good.” Taking a bite out of her own scone, she noticed the soft flavors of the blueberry within the scone and how it blended so well with the dough.

As they continued to enjoy their breakfast together, an easy conversation flowed between them like warm butter. Small talk about their morning and simple introductions seemed necessary for a proper first-time meeting.

“I remember you said you’re not from here, Nils.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin, removing any excess crumbs. “Where are you from? If you don’t mind telling me,”

He chuckled at how polite she was, but truly, he appreciated her manners. “I’m from Sweden,” he said happily.

Her smile expressed fascination, “That’s lovely!” she beamed. “How is it there?”

“It’s amazing! Where I’m from it’s usually colder in the winter and I can spend time outdoors.” He spoke with such a genuine smile that made her smile as well. “What about yourself?”

“Oh, well I’m not from here, but I came here for a job I was looking for,” she paused, “Actually, I just moved here a couple of days ago.”

His head tilted in interest as she talked with his face bright. “So you’re new to Vancouver?”

Nodding her head, she responded, “Yes, I am.”

“Well I’m here to help you around if you need it,” he said warmly.

She smiled at his kindness, and they both continued to enjoy the warm morning and their breakfast. It was a comfortable silence, not awkward, and they felt like they could get used to it quickly. Nils didn’t mind the silence, but he had a slight preference for her voice. And what he didn’t know was that she enjoyed him talking as well.

As they finished up their food, they both knew they didn't want to separate, despite their schedules forcing them to. He could tell that she wanted to stay a little longer, the way she slightly hesitated to get up and walk away from him, and how she seemed sullen to leave.

“I’m sorry if this is an—” he paused as she looked at him curiously, “—invasive question?” She tilted her head in slight confusion and hoped that he’d go on. “May I have your phone number? I’d like to spend more time with you,” he blushed.

She gave him a soft smile and nodded. “Of course, Nils. I enjoyed spending time with you today.” Her own face blushed, her heart slowly falling for him.

After she put her phone number into his phone, they both parted ways with a friendly hug, and to their sadness, walked away from each other in different directions. She looked back once more, and saw that he too was looking back. He waved at her, a simple gesture that seemed to mean so much to her. Waving back, she saw his smile, and her heart seemed to dance.

When she returned to her apartment, she realized that she hadn’t gotten Nils’ number, but he had hers. Disappointment slowly swirled around her, hoping that he was genuine about wanting to spend more time with her.

She slumped onto her couch, grabbing the book that she was reading to distract herself from the disappointment and worry that was simmering inside of her. After a few hours flew by past her, she was snapped out of her book by a call from an unknown number.

Picking up the phone, she answered with a slightly nervous tone. “Hello?”

“Hey, this is Nils by the way. I wanted to call you to check if you got home safe? I know it’s a little late, which I’m sorry for. I had hockey practice a few minutes after we left and I had just gotten home.”

She could tell that he was genuine, even through the phone. “I got home safe Nils, and you don’t have to apologize,”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he became silent for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts. “Oh, and I hope you had a nice time earlier today, I really enjoyed it.”

“I did enjoy it, very much so, and I’m happy to hear that you enjoyed it as well,”

Her heart seemed to fall for him quicker than she thought, but quickly, she pushed her feelings aside, justifying it as her being in a new place and finding someone she enjoyed.

They both continued to talk on the phone for a little while longer, but once again, they had to part ways.

“I really enjoyed talking to you again Nils,”

“I enjoyed talking to you as well,” he hesitated slightly before adding, “it’s always lovely talking to you,”

She blushed once more and smiled, “As for you too, Nils, I’ll see you again.”

As the call ended, she relaxed on her couch, a permanent smile on her face it seemed as she thought about him. He just seemed so sweet and kind to be around and to know as a person.

Over the next few months, she grew closer to Nils, spending more time around him, whether it be for lunch or coffee, and on some occasions, at his place relaxing. She felt like she had known Nils for ages, learning more about his family and personal life, as well as being able to feel comfortable and safe around him.

Winter came around, snow started to fall in Vancouver. Nils became busy on the ice, netting plenty of goals and assists, and she celebrated each and every one of them with him after his games.

“Nils! You did amazing tonight!” She pulled him into a hug as he walked into her apartment after the 5-2 win against Seattle, shaking the snow off of his boots.

He laughed as he hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

It was almost a tradition by now that he would come over to her place after a home game, win or lose, and enjoy some food that they prepared together. When he was gone for an away game, he’d call her from his hotel room and talk about his day with her, and she’d listen to him talk.

“Nils, could you pass me the cold butter, please?” She asked as she stirred the mixture of flour, baking powder, sugar, baking soda, and salt together.

He walked over to her fridge, opened it, and knew where she put everything by heart. As he grabbed the butter and walked over to her, he noticed how truly lovely she looked, illuminated only by the soft golden glow of the cooktop light.

“Do you want me to cube the butter?” His voice was quiet, almost shy even, and she caught on. Almost.

“That’d be lovely, thank you,” she said, looking over to him. “You know my recipe well it seems,”

He gave her a sheepish smile, before placing the butter down on the cutting board to cut it into small cubes. They continued to work together in silence, occasionally broken by her humming her favorite song or Nils asking a simple question on what to do.

After she finished kneading the biscuit dough with some buttermilk Cand placed it in the fridge, she started making the strawberries, first cutting them up carefully into smaller, bite-sized pieces. Nils watched her carefully, making sure that she would accidentally injure herself, although he knew she wouldn’t. When she finished slicing the strawberries, she coated them in a good amount of sugar, stirring it in to allow the flavors to be more sweet.

As she placed the bowl to the side, she started wiping down the counter, cleaning the flour and anything that spilled. Nils offered and tried to help her wipe down the counter, but she wouldn’t allow it. “Nils, please,” she looked at him with sincerity, “allow me to do it, you can go rest on the couch and relax since you’ve played such an amazing game tonight,”

The way she looked at him made him feel warm inside, his heart melting. He felt like he was in love, but he knew he had been for a long time now. It’s just that now, he realized it so clearly. He hummed as he nodded, walking over to her couch and resting on it, allowing his muscles to relax.

When she was done cleaning, she walked over to Nils resting on the couch, and sat beside him. He looked at her, vulnerable and almost worried, and she noticed. “Nils, what’s wrong?”

He knew he should just relax and enjoy the night, just like any other night he had spent at her apartment after a game. But when he looked at her again, he felt like he could barely speak.

“I’m okay,” he spoke quietly. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

She gently placed her hand on his forehead, checking if he felt hot to the touch in case of a fever. “Nils, you’re a little warm.” Her expression was slightly worried. “Here,” she said as she stood up from beside him. “I’m going to get you some water, you need to be hydrated,”

He watched as she got up and walked to the kitchen, grabbing him a bottle of water. When she came back, she handed him the bottle, gently grasping it in her hands. Grabbing the bottle, he quietly thanked her as he took a sip of it, hoping to make her less worried about him.

She smiled as he took a sip of water, and then got up to walk back to the kitchen. “If you’re feeling better Nils, you can always help me in the kitchen,”

“Of course, anything to help you.” His words were true, and more true than she knew.

Standing in the kitchen, she worked on making the whipped cream from scratch, mixing the heavy cream with some sugar and vanilla extract until it was fluffy. Nils got up from the couch and walked over to her, watching her make the whipped cream.

“Feeling a little better, Nils?”

He nodded his head, “Yes, thank you,”

“It’s no worry, I’m here if you need anything.” Her words seemed to flow sweetly, like a river of milk and honey when she talked.

One of his favorite things about her was how her eyes seemed to light up when she smiled. He adored her laugh and voice, as well as how beautiful she looked constantly. She was an angel and so much more in his eyes.

“Oh, Nils?” She turned to look at him, his gentle presence beside her. “Could you help me prepare the biscuits, please?”

“Of course, do you want me to place them inside the baking tin?”

“Mhm, that’d be perfect, thank you, Nils.”

He opened the fridge and removed the biscuit dough she had placed in there earlier. Setting it on the counter, he started to unwrap the foil that encased the dough, and then set it on the counter. He grabbed a knife and started to cut circles into the dough and arranged the pieces into the baking tin.

“I already preheated the oven, can you brush the tops of the biscuits with buttermilk if you can?”

“Yes I can,” he said as he grabbed a spoon and some of the buttermilk.

Carefully, he poured the buttermilk onto the biscuits and spread it with his spoon. She turned around and saw Nils trying his best. His hair stuck to his forehead, the golden light from the cooktop light shining on him like a halo. Her laugh couldn’t be contained and Nils had heard her.

“Nils, it’s okay.” She handed him a pastry brush to help him spread the buttermilk.

He took it from her and laughed lightly, “Thanks, you’re amazing.”

After he finished brushing the biscuits with buttermilk, he placed them into the oven and allowed them to bake. He then proceeded to help her clean the kitchen, wiping down the counters as she washed the dishes.

When they both finished, they stood in the kitchen together in silence, waiting for the biscuits to finish. He looked over at her, noticing how tired she was. She had no sharp features it seemed, she was all soft and fuzzy, gentle and warm.

“Are you alright? You seem a little sleepy,” he spoke softly. He always seemed to speak softly around her, never raising his voice in anger or even annoyance. Although, he was sure he had never experienced those emotions when he was with her.

“I’m okay Nils, I’m okay.” She looked up at him, a soft smile forming on her face.

He smiled back, his heart feeling fuzzy at the sight of her. “Okay, älskling,” he murmured the last part of his sentence that had slipped up, hoping she didn’t hear.

She turned to look at him again, “Hm? Did you say something, Nils?”

His face was now covered in a soft blush, “Yes, I uh—” he paused. “I said you’re beautiful,” He didn’t say that, but he wanted to. His heart felt beyond warm and he so badly wanted to have her hear the words he’d been thinking about the whole time.

Her face was now also covered in a blush, “Nils, c’mon,” she laughed lightly, unsure if he was serious.

“I mean it. I’ve been wanting to tell you since I’ve met you.” He turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. It was always her vibrant eyes, her sweet personality, and her in general that he thought was beautiful.

She rested her hand against his chest gently and looked at him. “Nils,” she spoke quietly, “you’re beautiful as well, so beautiful.” Her fingers delicately swept some of his hair that fell onto his forehead away and cupped his face.

His eyes moved to her lips, noticing how delicate and soft they looked. “May I kiss you?” His voice remained a whisper, afraid to break something that wasn’t there.

“Please, Nils,”

He gently pressed his lips against hers, a sweet exchange of their souls between them. He softly put his hand on her lower back, pulling her closer to him. It felt so perfect in that moment, just the both of them standing there together in comfort and peace.

They seemed to melt into each other, a mix of perfection and pure adoration. He’d hoped that time would freeze so that he’d be stuck here forever with her, his arms around her as he kissed her sweetly.

When they pulled away for a breath of air, their true beauty was revealed to each other. He saw her with such love and admiration that he felt like he was in a dream. She noticed every detail of his face, every freckle like a star in the sky, his eyes brighter than the sun.

“So,” she started to talk, her cheeks rosy, “what does älskling mean?”

He chuckled, his cheeks a shade of pink, “Darling, it means darling,”

“May I be your darling then?”

Looking at her, he knew that it was worth it to be with her, for as long as he could be. “Of course, but only if I’m yours.” He leaned into her, making sure she was okay, and kissed her lips again, gently, and sweetly.

44 notes · View notes

desiredposion · 2 years ago

Text

My heart broke and got put back together at the same time!! Such a beautiful story!

What Would This World Do? -> Tyson Jost

Summary: When your life flashes before your eyes after a sudden accident, you can't help but wonder, what would this world do if you didn't have Tyson?

Author's Note: As a part of @antoineroussel's Summer Fic exchange, this is for the ever-amazing @bqstqnbruin. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: car accidents; my rant on the Monsterverse movies; hospitals; mentions of alcohol; mostly proofread

Word Count: 9.3k (including song lyrics)

Note: Non-italicized texts are flashbacks

There's a billion stars in the midnight sky There's a million cars on the 405 Spinning like it will till the end of time

From the moment you first learned to drive, you never paid any attention to the deer crossing signs along the highway. The diamond, yellow signs never really meant anything to you because, after all, how many times did you actually see a deer in the vicinity after seeing that sign? Like, what were the odds?

This time, though, you barely noticed the sign out of your peripheral as you turned down the music, and it turned out to be one of the biggest regrets of your life.

As the final tunes to the old Justin Bieber song played through the speakers of Tyson’s car, you reached to turn down the music to continue the conversation you and Tyson were having just a few minutes prior when Tyson so rudely interjected by blasting the song.

“I’m telling you,” you continue, “Mac Jones is by far superior to anyone that might come out of your mouth.”

Tyson snorts. “Seriously, you’re still on this?”

“I refuse to rest until you acknowledge that I’m right,” you say, standing firm in your opinion. Because, truly, Mac Jones was your favorite, and you weren’t letting anyone’s opinion sway that, especially Tyson.

“Fine, then I think Josh Allen is the best, and I stand firm in that.”

“Yeah, okay, why is Josh Allen better?”

“Why is Mac Jones better?” he mocks, a smirk curling on his face.

“Because I like him; isn’t that enough of a reason to call him the best?” you ask.

He laughs. “That’s the exact reasoning I use for Josh Allen.”

“What do you say, agree to disagree?” you question.

“Sure, let’s agree to dis—”

“Tyson! Look out for the deer!” you interrupt. At that exact moment, Tyson swerved the car away from the frightened animal as it was too late to press the brake. Thankfully, there was no one else on the highway as it was late at night, but Tyson couldn’t regain control of the car. He tried as he might, but the wheels weren’t responding to the steering wheel, and the brakes, too, weren’t responding.

With fear coursing through your body, you place your hand on Tyson’s thigh as everything went dark. A loud crash was heard next.

Everything was dark when you opened your eyes which confused you because the highway was very well lit. You weren’t thinking about that, though. Your arm that was on Tyson’s thigh was throbbing with pain, but none of that mattered because one thought was echoing through your head.

What would you do—what would this world do—if that moment a few seconds prior was the last moment you ever had with Tyson?

But what would this world do without you? The leaves will turn when the air goes cold And the birds will fly to Mexico

Normally, when you made the trip back to Connecticut, you were less than pleased. Recently, whenever you’d head home, your parents and relatives would begin to question when you’d be planning on meeting someone and then getting married. Didn’t they get that dating was difficult? Didn’t they get that maybe everyone you’ve met just wasn’t someone you wanted to date? Didn’t they get that you were mostly okay with being single? Honestly, just to spite them, you might plan on being single for a lot longer than they’d appreciate. Serves them right for constantly questioning you.

You didn’t plan on traveling home for this cousin’s wedding, but she made you promise to show up. It was the summer, so you had more flexibility with your schedule, so you hopped on a flight from Minnesota and made your way to Connecticut. There were so many better ways you could have spent this weekend, but you were going to show up for your cousin and pretend you were okay with the probing questions about your dating life.

This time, though, everything was different.

You were seated next to someone named Tyson Jost. He, he was the one who changed family functions and everything for you. He was the one who you knew you’d want to bring home to your family. He was the one who you’d want to sing guilty pleasure songs with. He was the one who you’d want to sit and watch trashy reality TV with. He was the one who you’d want to get drunk with on a random Tuesday. He was the only one who seemed to make everything make sense. And you’ve only had a small glimpse at him.

When you took your seat and did a quick survey of the table, you realize most of the people there were other relatives who you’ve sat with at other family weddings. The person next to you, though, was someone you knew. He was way too handsome to be in your family. His back was to yours, talking to one of your aunts, so his head of curls you soon grew to love was facing you. You turned to glance at his name card and noticed the name. You recognized the name. Tyson Jost. He went to college with your cousin’s fiance. So, they were trying to set you up with Tyson, it seemed. As you realized this, you took a long sip of your drink and rolled your eyes. Of course.

You’re about to get up and grab another drink when Tyson turns to look at you. You glance at him for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. The intensity in his eyes shocked you but also warmed you. Who was he? Who was he to make your insides warm and bubbly? Who was he to make you feel like you were eight drinks in instead of four sips? Who was he to make your world kilter off its axis? You haven’t even technically met this man yet, and he was throwing you in for a loop.

“Hi,” he says, softly.

“Hi,” you reply. Well, you think you reply to him. You’re not really sure what’s happening. You’re on autopilot. Tyson has this effect on you, and it’s only been two minutes.

“Tyson,” he says, holding out his hands. You shake his hand while you tell him your name. “That’s a really nice name.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” you say, your attempt at flirting. Mentally, you face plant. That was the most awkward thing ever. Often, you wish for the world to swallow you whole while at these family weddings; normally, your cousins or relatives were embarrassing you. This time, though, you were embarrassing yourself, and it needed to stop. Who let you try to talk to this man when you could barely control your bodily functions?

He chuckles to himself quietly. “That’s why I complimented your name.”

“Oh,” you say, glancing at your empty drink. You really wished your drink was full right now. Maybe some liquid courage will cause you to take your head out of the gutter.

Tyson noticed you glance at your empty glass, so he asks if you want to accompany him to the bar. You nod your head and follow Tyson. Once you both have a few sips in your systems, it feels like all the gates have opened up. Now, you only wished you could stop talking. Tyson didn’t seem to mind, though. He listened to everything you said with an intensity you never knew existed. He was attentive and constantly asked questions about what you were talking about.

“And now I live in Minnesota,” Tyson says when he finished giving an abridged version of his life story.

“No way! I live in Minnesota, too!”

And just like that, everything fell into place. There was no question about the connection between you and Tyson. It was meant to be there. He was meant to be there. The tug and the pull between you two were there. It was tangible. It was present. It was pure. It was everything you’ve ever wanted. There was nothing else in the world that would or could relate to it.

It was you and Tyson. Only. Nothing else. And that’s the way it was always going to be, it seemed.

But there's answers I don't wanna know Like what would this world do without you?

“Are you going to murder me?”

Tyson laughs. “What?”

“You’re driving me out to the middle of nowhere it seems, and I don’t really know you, so like, are you going to murder me?”

He shakes his head. “Are you always like this?”

“I mean when a guy who is taking me on a date but doesn’t tell me where the date is, yeah, I am like this.”

“I apologize; I probably should have told you. Star gazing.”

“Star gazing? That’s very sappy of you.”

“Yeah, I like doing sappy things for people I like.”

“Oh, you like me?” you ask, half-teasing and half-flirty.

“Was that not obvious?” Tyson questions, worry in his voice. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his thumbs start to nervously tap the steering wheel.

You can’t help but laugh at his nervousness. “You’re really cute; you know that?”

“No?”

“I’m teasing, Tyson; I promise. I hoped you liked me considering you’re taking me on a date.”

“Oh, okay, good.” Tyson lets out a deep breath and continues driving. Silence overtakes his car, but you don’t mind. Although the conversation is enjoyable, it’s nice, sometimes, not talking all the time. Besides, it gives you time to observe and watch Tyson.

When you first met Tyson at the wedding, you knew he was attractive. Someone would have to be blind not to realize just how attractive Tyson truly is. You never knew someone could be cute, beautiful, handsome, and breath-taking all at the same time. Just moments ago when he didn’t get that you were teasing him and was questioning everything about himself, Tyson was cute. You wanted to kiss his cheek and nuzzle your face in his neck and breathe in his scent. At the wedding, in his suit, Tyson was handsome. He knew how to wear a fitted suit just the right way, and the way he styled his curls? Handsome, and he knows he’s handsome but doesn’t gloat about it. After a deep dive on Getty Images of Tyson, he was breath-taking in his hockey uniform and as he played. All around, though? Beautiful. He was just so beautiful from his curls to his eyes to his hands. He had it all. And when he blushed? He was cute.

From your experience, when someone was this good-looking, they didn’t always have a personality you could tolerate. Tyson, however? You could talk to him for hours and not get bored. Cute, funny, and a good conversationalist? Everything you could possibly want.

“We’re here,” Tyson tells you, taking you out of your thoughts.

Once you’re both out of the car, Tyson is leading you to a small clearing. He seems to know where he’s going, so you can’t help but ask, “Do you bring all the girls here?”

“You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here,” he admits. “I’ve come out here a few times since I got traded because the sky is the same regardless of where you are. Like, sure the stars you see might be different, but in reality, you’re still looking at the same sky.”

“Deep.”

He chuckles. “It took a sudden life change for it to happen, but yeah, I’ve got a few deep thoughts in my head.”

“Care to share anymore?” you ask, laying down on the blanket and staring up at the sky.

“Nope, I’ve got to save them for the next dates.”

“Oh, so there’s going to be more dates?” you ask, a teasing tilt in your voice.

“Obviously,” Tyson sassed. “Remember, I like you.”

“I’ve never had a guy tell me he likes me twice on the first date.”

“Were those dates the first time you’ve met the guy? Because we’ve met before and talked a lot at your cousin’s wedding.”

“Fair point,” you relent. “Now, shall we look at some stars?”

He chuckles. “Let’s look at some fucking stars.”

I know the sun will set into the ocean And I know we're gonna get to where we're going But I still got just one question that I can't work through

“Place the chairs with top of the legs at the edge of the blanket,” you direct. “It’ll keep the blanket semi in place if there’s a strong gust of wind.”

“Oh, smart,” Tyson remarks and moves one chair as you move the other. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“You have deep thoughts, and I have mostly good advice.”

“This is the first piece of advice you’ve ever given me, so I don’t think that can be your thing in this relationship.”

Your stomach flip-flops when Tyson says relationship. It’s been a couple of months since the star-gazing date you and Tyson went on, but things have been going steady. There weren’t any labels yet, but you’ve both had the “exclusive” talk.

With the hockey season about to start with training camp in a few days, Tyson figured it was apropos to have one more planned date, so it was a beach date on the slate.

“Hey, let’s go swimming,” Tyson proposes once you’ve both set up the chairs, beach blanket, and umbrella. “It’s warm, and the water is beckoning.”

You snort.

“What?”

“Beckoning?”

“It’s a fun word,” Tyson defends, meekly. “Not the point. Do you want to go swimming?”

“Sure,” you respond, shakily. As much as you love the beach, you should have proposed a different activity because you spent the past two days surrounded by your insecurities about wearing a bathing suit around Tyson.

Slowly, you take off your shirt, shorts, and sandals and take Tyson’s hand. He leads you towards the water, his warm hand squeezing yours in comfort. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and whispers in your ear, “you look beautiful.” His words send you into a happy haze that puts you on autopilot. You’re taken out of autopilot when your toes touch the water. The cold water cools your skin from both the sun and Tyson’s warmth.

“I’m going to stay here for a bit to get used to the water,” you tell him.

He gives you a curious look. “Seriously?”

You nod and gently push him towards the water.

He shakes his head with a small smile on his face and turns toward the water and walks to it. You watch as he submerges and emerges as the waves lap over the water. They were calmer today than most times you’ve been to the beach. Your eyes glance up from Tyson and stare at the horizon and the other swimmers.

You’re distracted, so you don’t see Tyson walking up toward you. You notice his presence, though, when you feel a pair of wet, muscular arms wrap you in a hug. “Come swimming with me, now?” Tyson asks, a pout on his lips.

“Okay,” you answer and let Tyson lead you out. You stop when the water hits your waist. “Here’s good.”

He nods and stands behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against his chest. Your bodies are sticking together as your dry back meets his wet chest. Tyson is placing soft kisses on your neck that, too, send you into a small haze. When the kisses abruptly stop, you turn your head to ask him to continue, but you don’t get the words out as Tyson pushes you into the water.

When you emerge and wipe the water from your eyes and fix your hair, you playfully glare at Tyson as he’s laughing at you.

“I had to!” he defends. “You were being difficult, and I wanted to swim.”

“Oh, you’re so dead,” you proclaim and rush over to Tyson. He’s quick to start moving away, so you decide to jump into his arms which causes Tyson to stumble backward which causes you both to fall into the water. Once you both take a breath, you both fall into a pit of giggles. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and his hands rest firmly on your waist. “That’s what you get.”

“Uh-huh?”

In one swift motion, Tyson scoops you up and walks deeper into the water.

“Tyson! Put me down!”

He shakes his head and proceeds to keep walking.

“Tyson!”

“Fine,” he says, a devilish smirk on his face. Instead of putting you down so that your feet can touch the sand, he drops you right into the water. When you emerge from the water, you find Tyson laughing. You wrap your arms tightly around Tyson’s neck and glared at him.

“Oh, you’re so dead; you know that?”

“Am I?” Tyson asks, still giggling.

“Like so dead to the point where no one will be able to identify your body, so you’ll just have an empty grave.”

“Morbid.”

“I did say you were dead.”

“Fine. How about a truce then?” Tyson proposes, resting his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“Okay,” you murmur and give Tyson a soft kiss. As you both deepen the kiss, you can’t help but think that you never want to let this man go. You never want to spend a day where you don’t have Tyson in your life.

What would this world do without you? What would this world do without you?

Where was this man? When he stepped out to go to the washroom, you assumed it wouldn’t take eighteen million hours. Granted, that was an exaggeration, and it’s probably been like five minutes, but you were getting angsty.

In the past few months following the beach date, you and Tyson have found a nice routine for the days and nights he was in town and not on a roadie. The evening routines were more solid because of your work schedule and the team’s practices and social calendar.

Most evenings where there wasn’t a game, you’d alternate who’s home you’d be spending the evening at. If you were going to Tyson’s apartment, you’d head straight to his place after work. Sometimes, he’d text you that he ordered some food and asked if you could pick it up. Other times, he actually had food in his house and cooked. After eating and cleaning up, you and Tyson always somehow made it onto the couch just in time for the 6:30 pm evening news. It was a nice way to rewind after the day. Once the first commercial break passed, you and Tyson would resume conversation because, at that point, the important news has been relayed.

If Tyson was going to your apartment, you’d alternate dinner. Sometimes, you’d cook, or you’d have Tyson pick up dinner on his way over. Similarly, you and Tyson would manage to sit for the evening news. Once the news was over, you’d either get some work done as Tyson sat next to you, or you’d both argue over a movie choice and watch the one you’ve both settled on.

It was an undisputed fact that cooking, eating, and cleaning had to be done by 6:30 because there was the unspoken tradition of watching the news together.

On this particular day, you were at Tyson’s apartment and were currently sitting on his couch watching the news. At one point, he excused himself to use the washroom. He went during a commercial break, but when the news resumed and Tyson hadn’t returned, you barely noticed until a news story began to be reiterated that you know that Tyson would like. Quickly, you reached for the remote, paused the news, and rewound appropriately. One minute more passed. Then two, then three. The minutes kept passing until Tyson was in the bathroom for eight minutes. The fan wasn’t on, so you assumed he wasn’t in extreme discomfort, but where was he?

You were about to get up and knock on the bathroom door when you heard it open and Tyson came and sat next to you.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask, concerned.

“Yeah, why?” Tyson responds, confused.

“You spent a lot of time in the bathroom.”

He laughs. “I didn’t know that my bathroom choices were going to get psychoanalyzed.”

“Well, I got worried.”

Tyson kisses the top of your head. “Don’t worry. I had to take care of some bathroom business.”

“No shit,” you murmur, moving in closer to Tyson.

“May I ask why the news is paused?” Tyson asks when he notices that there’s no sound coming out of the speakers and the video is still.

“Oh, they were starting this news story that I thought you’d particularly enjoy,” you explain, pressing play on the remote. Tyson gives you a small but grateful response as he settles into the couch and pays attention to the news story.

As the news story begins to play, you can’t help but think about things that make sense right now. People have always said that the little things are what make a relationship work. You never took that advice or mantra too wholeheartedly. However, seeing Tyson’s small smile in gratitude for your small action made you realize that relationships really are based on small things. And if those small things helped you to fall in love with the man in question, then you’d take those small things any day of the year.

They'd still run the evening news And the brides will walk the aisle in June

At first, the evenings you and Tyson spent together resulted in one of you going home close to midnight. It was understood that your relationship wasn’t at that point yet. That all changed, though, when Tyson was at your apartment in the middle of a blizzard. When Tyson told you it was time for him to head home, you walked him down to your building’s lobby and kissed him goodbye. You stayed down there and watched as Tyson walked to his car parked on the street and waited for him to turn on the car. When he didn’t and started the trek back to the lobby, you were confused.

“So,” Tyson begins, shaking off the snow, “my car isn’t starting. It’s probably too cold.”

“Do you want to spend the night, then?” you propose, nervous for his response. “I doubt there will be any tow trucks that can make it out here to help start your car.”

“Are you okay with that? I know we haven’t done that yet or discussed it, but if you’re comfortable with it, then I will. If not, then I’ll just stay here. Or, I can sleep on the couch.”

“You can stay with me. In my bed,” you add. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t comfortable with it.”

With that, you took Tyson’s hand and led him up to your apartment. From there, Tyson followed you into your bedroom as you pulled out a T-shirt you stole from him.

“I don’t have anything else of yours, but considering you’re in sweats right now, I’m sure you can sleep in those if you want.”

“What do you mean ‘if you want?’” Tyson asks, a small teasing tone in his voice.

You shrug, trying to hide how frazzled Tyson’s question is making you. Can he feel how warm your face just got? “I don’t know if you wear pants to bed, but if you do, then you’ll figure something out, but if you don’t and just want to wear your boxers, I’m okay with that. Either way, you pick what’s comfortable for you.”

“I’ll, um, go with the sweats,” Tyson responds, his face burning red.

“Okay, then,” you respond and walk into your bathroom.

After that first night, you and Tyson began to spend the nights at each others’ apartments when your schedules would allow it. At first, it was an adjustment to comfortably fit the new addition into your routines, but after a while, it became second nature, and it was weird if you didn’t spend the night together on a night when Tyson didn’t have a game.

Along with spending the nights together, you both began to slowly leave belongings in each others’ apartments. It started with a toothbrush. You left a toothbrush in Tyson’s medicine cabinet, and the next day, when he came over and spent the night, he, too, left a toothbrush. Then, you followed with a small bag of essential toiletries such as face wash, moisturizer, a hairbrush, etc. That was followed by Tyson leaving his own small bag of essential toiletries, too. Clothes followed with you both leaving pajamas and clothes for the next day.

Piece by piece, and very slowly, you and Tyson inserted each other into your apartments. Your lives were so heavily and safely intertwined that it was only time that your living spaces reflected that, too.

What shocked you the most was when you walked into Tyson’s washroom one night about to take a shower. You didn’t have any shampoo and planned on not washing your hair despite it going out of routine with your normal hair washing schedule. When you stepped into the shower, though, bottles of your shampoo and conditioner were sitting on a ledge. It was a shock, a pleasant shock, so you washed your hair despite not having any of your after-shower hair products.

Once you stepped out of the shower, you began to towel dry your hair and get it ready to air dry before bed. When you opened the drawer that Tyson designated to be yours, your heart warmed. He had bottles of all of your hair products. He had the products you use after your shower, in the mornings for when you got ready for work, and on special occasions or once in a while. It was all there. He took the time to document all the products you use and find them either online or in-store.

You didn’t have any doubts about what you meant to Tyson, but seeing the effort he put into getting your hair products erased all those doubts. It reinforced the feeling that’s been ruminating deep in your heart. You loved Tyson. You loved him more than you could put into words, and it meant everything to you to know that he prioritized your life even when he had many, many obligations and priorities. What would you do if you hadn’t ever found this man?

And there's strangers that won't have a clue What would this world do without you?

“Remind me of why we’re doing this?” Tyson whines as you’re holding up the polaroid camera.

“My grandmother got in my head about memories and how the digital world could rise against humans, so we need tangible sources of remembering stuff instead of everything in a cloud that could try to murder us all. You know, robots are bad.”

He snorts. “But can’t we just print photos instead of taking a whole set of them?”

“No, now smile, so I can add the first photo into the box of our memories.”

“You bought a box?”

“It’s black with gold stripes, and I think it’s pretty,” you say. “Ready? Smile.”

After that first Polaroid photo, many more began to fall into the box. Despite his wariness at first, Tyson was the one who was always pulling out the camera and adding new photos to the box. Following Tyson’s advice, you both sat down one Saturday afternoon and went through each other’s camera rolls and picked photos to send to Walmart to get them printed out and added to the box.

It wasn’t just photos that were added to the box, though. Receipts, postcards, and more found their way into the box.

Any time you and Tyson went on a movie date, the receipt and tickets were firmly put into Tyson’s wallet. He was very delicate and made sure not to bend or crease anything. Immediately upon returning to his apartment (he liked to keep the box at his apartment because he felt he was more invested), he’d staple the tickets and receipt together so as not to lose them and would drop them in the box. Sometimes, he’d make you both take a photo (either polaroid or digital to later be printed out) to be added, too.

Receipts were also saved from meals out. Even if you paid, Tyson insisted on taking the receipt when you were finished with it and made you rate what you ate out of 10. He wanted to savor the moment (pun intended). If it was a fancy meal where you were both dressed up, you and Tyson were taking a photo. There was no doubt about it.

Instead of saving receipts from take-out, Tyson would take the menu the restaurant normally would give. He’d write the date, circle what you both ordered, and then place the menu in the box. Thankfully, there was no photo taken on take-out nights.

At first, Tyson’s enthusiasm was a bit too much, and you asked him to dial it down a bit, and he did. Slowly, though, you let the practices ensure because it was nice to have him save so much. Whenever he was on a road trip and you were missing him more than normal, you’d use the key he gave you to his apartment and would go through the box. His messy handwriting was always a comfort as he wrote little notes here and there. The photos, both polaroid and printed digital, always put a smile on your face. The box was a comfort, but mostly, though, it was a comfort to have someone so attuned with the relationship.

You wouldn’t want to have this box full of memories with anyone else because it was Tyson. It was only Tyson, for you.

I know the sun will set into the ocean And I know we're gonna get to where we're going But I still got just one question that I can't work through

“What did you bring?”

“A box with stuff in it,” Tyson answers, a smirk on his lips. He hands you the box as he moves to take off his shoes. “Go ahead, open it.”

“Vanilla pasticiotti?” you ask.

“Mhm, it’s your favorite, right?”

“One of them yeah,” you respond, taking one out of the box and soaking your teeth into you. You moan in pleasure.

“Good?”

“One of the best.”

You and Tyson ended up finishing the box within the hour. By the time dinner rolled around, you and Tyson weren’t hungry. You didn’t regret it, though. The desserts were worth it.

A few days later, Tyson came over with another box of desserts—an assortment of biscottis.

“Aren’t you on some, like, strict diet because of the season and stuff?” you ask, taking a bite.

He shrugs. “As long as I’m careful and working it off, I think it’s okay. I mean, what’s the worst they could do?”

“Bench you?”

“That could be bad,” Tyson responds. “I’ll bring stuff every once in a while; will that appease you?”

“I mean, it’s your body and career. For me, though? I don’t care, and I’ll eat all the groceries you want to bring.”

Tyson shakes his head. “Anything for you.”

The next week, Tyson didn’t bring any desserts. The following he didn’t either. You felt bad at first, thinking you spooked him or freaked him out. Truthfully, though, with the amount of exercise Tyson did, he could eat all the sugar he wanted and wouldn’t gain a single ounce and his physique wouldn’t change.

Three weeks after he brought you a box of biscottis, Tyson brought you desserts, again. Rainbow chocolate cookies this time. This time, you and Tyson didn’t eat all the cookies right away. Much of the box was gone, though.

It continued. Tyson continued to bring you desserts. Different cookies, loaves, tarts, etc. Although you loved the desserts, you loved sharing them with Tyson. He seemed to know what your favorites were, so the fact that he made the effort to buy them and share them with you made you fall for Tyson even more.

Who knew all it took was a box of cookies for you to know that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Tyson?

What would this world do without you? I'll keep all your polaroids hanging on display And I'll drink all the wine you gave me on my wedding day

Just as you first started to add essential items such as a toothbrush, hair brush, or face wash to Tyson’s apartment, you began to add non-essential items, too. At first, the items consisted of a mug here and there or some clothes for work. You also added pajamas because those were needed to spend the night, but you did enjoy wearing Tyson’s clothes to bed.

The books came next. You didn’t mean to leave the first book at Tyson’s apartment, but it kind of just happened. You had the book in your purse to read during a break at work, so it was there. You were sitting on the couch reading the latest release by Alice Oseman while Tyson took a shower. When he came out, you quickly placed your bookmark in the spine and closed the book. The book remained on Tyson’s coffee table as you both got distracted by the evening’s TV show choice.

When you left for work the next morning, you weren’t concentrated on the book you left on the coffee table, so you left for work and paid no mind to the book. When you got to work and had a break mid-morning, you wanted to continue reading where you left off. When you searched through your bag and couldn’t find it, you were confused about why you didn’t have the book. Instead of fretting about the novel, you opened your phone and scrolled aimlessly through social media.

That night, you went home to an empty apartment with no plans of Tyson joining you. The team left on a road trip that afternoon, so you’d be spending the next couple of days at your own apartment. After settling into bed for the evening, you bundled under your blankets and grabbed a book off of your nightstand, Lessons in Chemistry. Although you didn’t want to be reading two books at the same time, you weren’t sure where the other book you were reading was, so you started this new one.

By the time the road trip ended, you finished Lessons in Chemistry. You went to Tyson’s apartment with a different book in your purse ready to spend the weekend with Tyson. He opted to go to the gym after arriving back in St. Paul, so you unlocked his apartment with the key he gave you. Once you were in his apartment, you took off your shoes and jacket and went to his bedroom to change into some pajama pants and one of Tyson’s sweatshirts. You then made your way to his couch and grabbed a throw blanket. On one hand, you had the other book you planned to read, but when you saw the Oseman novel sitting on Tyson’s coffee table. Oh, so that’s where the book went. Instead of reading the one you brought, you picked the Oseman novel and continued reading it.

That began a pattern.

The first time, it was unintentional. It was a lapse of judgment that left the book sitting on Tyson’s coffee table. The next few times it happened, though, it seemed to be unintentional, but deep down, you know you were leaving them on purpose. It was nice and comforting to see a few of your personal belongings littering Tyson’s apartment.

Whenever you’d take a seat on Tyson’s couch and would see the books you’ve left at his apartment, your heart grew three times larger. You wanted Tyson in every part of your life, so seeing the books neatly placed and remaining there made you realize that Tyson wanted you to be in every part of his life, too.

“Do you want me to just buy another bookshelf?” Tyson asks, eyeing the multitude of novels sitting on top of his coffee table and the shelf beneath it. “Or, at the very least, clear out a few shelves for you?”

“You don’t have to do that,” you reassure.

“As much as I love seeing all your books around the apartment, it’s starting to be a bit cluttered. The books are great reminders of you, but I’d like to have parts of my apartment back.”

“Do you want me to bring the books back to my apartment?”

Tyson vehemently shakes his head. “No, no way. I like them here. Just, you know, maybe we can declutter.”

So, Tyson bought another bookshelf. It was pretty identical to the ones that were already in his apartment.

Once all the books were added and a few knickknacks you brought from your apartment or purchased, the bookshelf was still pretty barren.

“Just think of it as a reassurance that there will always be space for your books here,” Tyson tells you after everything is shelved to your liking. “And you.”

Don't know what I would do if your tomorrow never came The only thing I'm sure of is that I'll never be the same

“Are you asleep?” you ask, prodding Tyson’s chest.

“Yes,” he grunts, turning over on his side.

“Well, wake up,” you push.

“What time is it?” Tyson sits up.

“5:15”

“Seriously?”

“Come on,” you continue, grabbing Tyson’s hand and pulling him out of bed. You then proceed to throw Tyson a sweatshirt and pull him out of his bedroom. After giving Tyson a minute to put on his sweatshirt, you drag him towards his balcony and take a seat on his outdoor couch.

“Please, I need some reason for why you have this much energy this early and why we’re up this early.”

“You’ll see,” you tell Tyson, a mysterious edge to your voice.

“No, please don’t make me wait in suspense.”

“The sunrise,” you answer. “I want to watch the sunrise with you.”

“Oh,” Tyson replies, softly. “If you wanted to watch the sunrise, you could have told me, and I would have gone to bed earlier last night.”

“Really? You wouldn’t have vetoed it?”

“I probably wouldn’t have vetoed it,” Tyson replies, a teasing tone in his voice as he pulls you against his chest.

“Okay, whatever, be quiet now, so we can watch the sunrise.”

That became a pattern, a sequence, a habit. Your apartment didn’t have a good view. All you could see from your windows were another neighboring building. Plus, Tyson’s swanky apartment had a balcony that your apartment most definitely didn’t. So, whenever you were at Tyson’s apartment and he didn’t have a game that day, you’d wake up early to watch the sunrise. Sometimes, he’d watch, but most of the time, he’d throw on a sweatshirt, grab a throw blanket, sit on the outdoor couch, and go back to sleep. You didn’t mind. The fact that after day one he didn’t get upset when you woke him at the crack of dawn surprised you. You thought he was going to be grumpy, but he wasn’t. Tyson was a good sport about the situation.

“I need you to promise me that you’re not going to wake me tomorrow morning,” Tyson asks one evening. “There’s snow all over the ground, and it’s going to be cold.”

“You know I can’t promise you that,” you say, feigning innocence.

“Come on, please? It’s more fun to stay in bed when it’s cold outside.”

Tyson had a point. “I make no promises, but I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that I’ll abide by what you ask. Is that fair?”

He sighs. “Fine.”

The next morning, you abided by his wishes and didn’t wake him up for the sunrise. You were going to get up on your own, but Tyson’s hold on you and his comforter enveloped you in warmth, so you decided to go back to sleep.

That night, though, you had a change of plans after dinner. Eating and cleaning up were done by 6:10 pm, so you and Tyson were sitting on the couch watching the news and discussing the movie you both should watch later that evening. When your phone went off at 6:15, you got up and went to put on your jacket and boots. Curious, Tyson followed you.

“What’re you doing?” he inquires.

“I’m going to watch the sunset,” you inform and make your way to the balcony.

“Wait, hold up.” Tyson grabs your wrist and pulls you against his chest. “It’s cold outside.”

“Duh, it’s winter in Minnesota.”

“Yeah, but you might get sick,” Tyson pouts.

“That’s why I’m wearing a jacket and boots.”

“Still.”

“When I’m done, I’ll come inside and take a hot shower, fair?” you propose, itching to get outside.

“Fair,” Tyson answers. He pushes you toward the door as he begins putting on his boots and jacket. He’s quick to follow you outside as you’re standing on the balcony and watching the sunset leave its final colors on the snow from the previous night’s storm. The colors in the sky and turning darker and darker.

Watching the sunrise with Tyson that night, too, started a new habit, sequence, routine. If you and Tyson didn’t wake up in the morning to watch the sunrise, then you’d both watch the sunset before returning to the couch to watch the news. This was when you and Tyson were at his apartment. When the two of you were at your apartment, you would both always watch the sunset. Tyson, actually, was the one who proposed that the two of you go to the roof of your building to watch the sunrise. That by far was the best way to watch the sunset, in your opinion.

Mostly, though, you liked doing it with Tyson. You didn’t want to ever watch the sunrise or sunset with anyone else.

You couldn’t really say why you loved watching the sun’s rising and setting patterns. It might have to do with the universe or something like that. For most people, staring up at the night sky and the stars and the constellations is what makes them feel small and put everything in perspective. Sure, the night sky and going stargazing with Tyson did that for you, but watching the sun’s morning and evening routines is what truly gave you that feeling. To watch something that happened every single day for millions of years was what made you feel small and made everything you were going through insignificant. It also puts life in perspective and helped you prioritize what was important in your life.

When you used to watch the sunrise/sunset on your own, you’d always end up having this empty feeling in your stomach. However, once you’ve started having the same routine with Tyson, you no longer felt alone or empty. As long as Tyson was right there with you, regardless of how insignificant everything was in the grand scheme of things, Tyson was the one who made everything significant. He was your everything, and to have him appreciate your routines meant everything. Tyson was the one who made everything worth it.

I know the sun will set into the ocean And I know we're gonna get to where we're going

“This movie’s got monsters and stuff,” Tyson tells you.

“Yeah, so?” you respond.

“That’s why I picked it,” Tyson explains. The movie to watch that night after the evening news ended was Tyson’s pick. He picked “Godzilla vs. Kong” because according to him, there are monsters. “The monsters are cool. Like, seeing how large those creatures are. Can you imagine seeing those things in real life?”

“No, because they don’t exist, and it’s fiction.”

“Imagine if Godzilla was swimming around the ocean right now,” Tyson begins. “Imagine if Kong was living on Skull Island if it exists.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“Oh, right, well, um, “Kong: Skull Island” is the origin story of Kong,” Tyson explains. “He was found on Skull Island, and that movie’s pretty cool.”

“Then why aren’t we watching that movie, instead?”

“Because there are more monsters in this one,” Tyson tells you. It was all about the monsters for him. “If you want epic monsters, we can watch Godzilla: King of the Monsters. In that movie, there are so many monsters; it’s crazy.”

“So, let’s watch the King of Monsters movie, then.”

“But the first movie I suggested has Kong and Godzilla, and they fight each other,” Tyson responds, a pouty tone in his voice.

You laugh at Tyson’s tone. “Then we’ll watch Godzilla vs. Kong.”

Tyson puts his head in his hands and groans. “You’re making this way too difficult for me.”

You snort. “How? You’re the one who’s questioning movies about monsters.”

“Really cool monsters,” Tyson adds. “I have an idea. We’ll just watch all four MonsterVerse movies.”

“Don’t I get to pick movies, too?”

“Sure, yeah, but on the nights I pick, we’re going to go through the monster movies.”

“So, what’s the first movie?”

“We’ll do the origin story, ‘Kong: Skull Island,’” Tyson explains. “There aren’t as many monsters in that one, but we have to get you educated.”

You shake your head, a laugh popping from your mouth. “You’re such a manchild with your talk about monsters.”

Tyson rolls his eyes and finds the movie. “You better pick a movie next that lives up to the monsters you’re going to see.”

The movie you picked, according to Tyson, didn’t live up all that much. For one, there were no monsters, and Tyson didn’t understand your fixation on Chad Michael Murray. Mostly, though, Tyson didn’t understand why there were remakes of the original Cinderella.

“Tyson, it’s not a remake,” you explain. “It’s a different story with a similar premise. It’s based on the original.”

“It’s literally called ‘A Cinderella Story.’”

“Exactly! A Cinderella Story. It’s a different version of the story. If you want a remake of the original, we can watch that one next time.”

“No, remember, next time is monsters again.”

You snort. Tyson and his monsters. “The next my turn. Besides, Chad Michael Murray is in this movie, and he’s dreamy. Way too dreamy.”

“Hey, what about me?”

“You’re pretty, too, but not Chad Michael Murray from his time during ‘A Cinderella Story.”

“Oh, I’m hurt,” Tyson teases. “Just play the movie.”

Movie nights were common between you and Tyson. Most of the time, though, you and Tyson would just go with the flow. Sometimes, you’d play movies that were on cable, but recently, you and Tyson had been picking movies that the other hadn’t seen yet and felt that the other must watch.

For you, Tyson insisted you needed to watch all the Monsterverse movies, and for Tyson, you felt that he needed to watch some of the Cinderella movies. Slowly, you made your way through all the monsters and different versions of Cinderella.

After watching the Cinderella movie with Hilary Duff and Chad Michael Murray, the remake of the original with Richard Madden and Lily James was next.

“He’s even more dreamy,” you point out. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but if Richard Madden asked me to marry him, then I’d leave you for him.”

“I’d leave you for him, too, so no offense taken.”

You laugh at that. Tyson truly was everything to you.

While Tyson was slowly relenting and enjoying the Cinderella movies you’ve slated, you began to take enjoyment to the monster movies. It was exciting to watch the monsters fight. As much as you tried to watch and pay attention to the plot, all you really wanted to see were the monsters. When you told Tyson that, he laughed.

“Yeah, I like the monsters more than the plot, too,” Tyson told you.

Despite the fact that the movies were out of your comfort zone, you’d watch them over and over again just for Tyson. Truly, though, you’d do anything for that man. He had a way of putting you out of your comfort zone in a way that still felt like your comfort zone. He had a way of always being the comfort you always needed. He was your rock, your wall, and your core. He was just about everything to you.

When it came down to it, you’d do anything for Tyson, and you hoped he knew how much he meant to you and how much you loved him.

But I still got just one question that I can't work through What would this world do without you?

What was the saying? Even when everything feels amiss, the world still spins. That might not be the saying, but it truly made sense. When someone dies, the world still continues. Everyone still goes to work and continues their day; everyone’s lives remain the same except for the family and friends of the deceased. No matter how happy or sad the change in one’s life is, everything keeps going.

That then begs the question of what dictates someone’s world? One would say that each person’s world depends on the individual person.

At the end of the day, the world still spins, people keep going in their daily lives, and everyone continues on as if nothing had changed.

If someone were to ask you what your world was, you’d say your family and job. That’s what made your world spin. That was your reason to keep going, and it was your motivation to get out of bed. The definition of your world changed, though, when you met Tyson. Slowly, he inserted himself in your life, and Tyson became your world. He was the reason that your world spun. He was the reason to keep going, and he was your motivation to get out of bed.

With each date, conversation, call, text, kiss, or hug, Tyson inserted himself into your life. He found your walls and slowly brought them. He opened you up to happiness you never knew existed. He took your insecurities and doubts and lifted you up. He took your interests and found a way to connect with you.

Even if the stars continue to shine, it won’t mean anything if Tyson weren’t right there next to you. Even if the cars continued to drive along the interstate highway, it would be pointless if Tyson weren’t in the car next to you. Even if the sun rises and sets each day, unless Tyson was watching it with you, it won’t mean anything to you. Even if the birds continue their migration patterns over the years, it will have no meaning unless you could complain about the noises with Tyson. When wedding season comes and goes each year, you’ll only ever want Tyson right by your side. No fancy glass of wine or tequila or bourbon will mean anything to you if you can’t enjoy it with Tyson.

After one conversation at your cousin’s wedding, Tyson Jost inserted himself in your life and was the reason your world spun. Tyson was your world, and your world would be nothing without him there with you.

Oh, out of everybody, I'll only have one you So, what would my world do without you?

One moment, you were in the car, darkness surrounding you and swallowing you, and the next moment, you were erratically blinking as you tried to adjust to the bright lights of a hospital. You always told yourself if you woke up in a hospital, you wouldn’t do the blinking thing like in the movies, but you did because it was a shock, those lights.

“Where am I?” you breathe out, but your voice was raspy. Really raspy. Like, you need some water or you might shrivel up and die.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tyson rushes out as he sits up from his seat. He’s blinking away tears as he looks down at you. “You’re okay; you’re okay.”

“My throat hurts, so I’m not really okay,” you force to leave your mouth. Tyson chuckles and reaches to grab a styrofoam cup. You greedily drink from the straw as you quench your thirst. When you’re ready to talk, you ask what happened.

“We hit a deer,” Tyson responds with a breathless chuckle. “Of all things, right?”

“How’s the deer?”

“Last I heard, it had a broken leg and a local animal recovery shelter is helping it to rehabilitate.”

“Oh, good,” you respond. You raise your left arm to scratch your forehead, but immediately, you scream out in pain.

“You broke your arm, by the way,” Tyson clarifies. “And had a concussion that knocked you unconscious.”

“How long was I out? Mostly, though, are you okay?”

“A couple of hours,” Tyson chokes. He begins to blink erratically as tears attempt to force themself out.

“Tys,” you whisper, gesturing for him to come closer. You scoot over in the hospital bed and let Tyson take a seat next to you. He gently wraps his arms around you and cries into your shoulder. Hearing Tyson’s sobs cause your eyes to water as you let the tears fall.

“I dislocated a shoulder and broke my wrist. My neck is a bit stiff, but I’m okay. Physically,” Tyson answers when the sobs have slowly subsided.

“Physically?”

“I thought I lost you,” Tyson admits. “After the impact and the car stopped moving, I called your name, but you weren’t responding. Your arm was limp in my lap, and it scared me. When the firefighters pulled us out of the wreck, you were unconscious and the paramedics were going on about how they had to rush you to the hospital. No one would tell me what was happening. I was so scared that you were gone. I wouldn’t even know what I would have done if you were gone.”

You rest your hand on Tyson’s thigh and squeeze it, tight. You had to remind him you were right there. Despite both of your fears, you were both present and right there. No one was going anywhere.

“It’s going to take a lot more than hitting a deer to get rid of me,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work because once the final words were out of your mouth, tears started to fall from your eyes. Gently, Tyson holds you tight against his chest as you let out your emotions.

“When I saw the deer, I thought I was going to lose you,” you recall. “I thought the last conversation we were ever going to have was going to be about Josh Allen and Mac Jones, who is by far superior.”

“No, Josh Allen is superior,” Tyson interjects, a smile on his face.

“Not the point, Tys,” you laugh.

“I know, but, hey, we both survived, so let’s take that as a sign. I’m not going anywhere, and you’re not going anywhere, so we’re stuck with each other.”

“Stuck?”

“A good stuck,” Tyson counters. “I wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else.”

You turn your head to Tyson’s and rest your forehead on his. You both close your eyes as you soak in the moment.

If everything went the opposite way after the accident, the world will spin, but yours wouldn’t. Tyson was your world, and if things went any different, then your world will have been pushed off of its axis because there was no meaning to life if you couldn’t share it with Tyson. What would this world do without Tyson? Continue spinning. What would your world do without Tyson? Absolutely obliterate.

There’s only one Tyson, and that’s the only person you’ll ever want to spend the rest of your life with.

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