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fleckcmscott · 3 years

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Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth. "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet @ralugraphics @iartsometimes

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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toplinetommy · 4 years

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You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part Five) - Tyson Jost

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Words: 7.3k

Warnings: mentions of injury

a/n: type of injury is purely speculation since the details were never released, also his injury happened at an away game but for the sake of the story let’s pretend it was a home game. im thinking there will be 3 more parts but dont quote me on that and ofc feedback is always welcome, i hope you enjoy!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

January 2019 - Loveland, CO

It was like the second you had Tyson back, he was gone again. The day they got back from their Eastern Canada road trip, he was on his way to Loveland to start working with the Eagles. He hadn’t been able to spend much time with you, his schedule being just as hectic as always. Especially with the additions of the extra workouts Tyson had started to partake in. You rarely saw his car in the driveway of the Rookie House when you were over at Caitlyn and Jack’s.

His hair had been extra messy the last night you saw him the day he went back down to Loveland for the first time this season. You assumed it was due to his hands continuously pulling at it from being stuck in his head about his new playing situation. Since then, the image of your best friend being down in the dumps hadn’t left your mind. Throughout the time of knowing Tyson, you only really knew him as the cheery guy with a smile on his face 24/7. He was the most strong-willed person you had ever known.

A week and a half later and he still hadn’t seen any NHL ice time, still working his ass off at the AHL level to earn his roster spot back. You’re sitting in one of the many conference rooms at your office, listening to an executive give their monthly project updates when your phone rings. You see Tyson’s face covering your screen, begging to answer his FaceTime. You hit the lock button on your phone, stopping the vibrations, and turn your phone over, turning your attention back to the presentation in front of you.

The vibration stops momentarily before it starts again, to which you ignore. The third time your phone rings, you know it must be important, so you excuse yourself as you push out of your rolling chair and leave the room.

As you slide to answer, Tyson’s face pops up onto the screen. His hair is wet and the lighting is terrible, so you assume he had just showered at the practice facility.

“What did you need? I was in a meeting.”

“Sorry, I’ll be quick. I know I was supposed to come over to your place later for my pre-game meal but I’m really tired,” He whines.

“And you couldn’t have just texted me that?” You ask a sharp bite to your tone. He knew you worked the third Saturday of every month. He had even admitted to you one time that he’d check your Snapchat location to see where you were when you weren’t answering, so you were even more confused when he called not once, but three times.

“I need a favor, I’m gonna take a nap on one of the guy’s couches. Can you bring me my game-day suit?”

“Sure, just text me the time you need it by and the address,” You agree. “I really need to go, though, so I’ll text you later.”

“Thank you, Y/n! Love you.”

You spit out a quick ‘love you’ before hanging up and shoving your phone into your dress pants pocket before walking back into the meeting and apologizing about the disruption.

You park your car in Caitlyn’s driveway before making a bee-line across the street towards the Rookie House. You lift your hand to knock on the door before you remember Tyson telling you that no one was home and you needed to find the spare key. You jog down the stairs to his bedroom in search of his game-day suit.

You look on his bed, which is a mess and un-made, causing you to roll your eyes, not seeing the suit he said he had laid out this morning when he left for practice. You move to his closet, hoping to see a suit in the front that had been previously picked out, but still no luck.

Instead of shooting him a text or calling him to ask where it is, you let your hands slowly pass over the multiple blazers he has hanging up. Your hand lands on a navy blue blazer with slightly exaggerated lapels, being unfamiliar with it you pull it out. Granted, you rarely say Tyson in suits, and even when you did you always noticed his love for different shades of grey. You smile to yourself as you pull it out and lay it over the bed smoothly before going back to his closet to find a dress-shirt to match.

A few minutes later you have a white-shirt with small polka dots on it picked out with his navy suit. Alongside that, you picked out his brown belt and grabbed his brown dress shoes, and started looking for a pair of socks. You pull open all of his drawers, finally finding the one that holds his socks and you end grabbing a pair of simple grey ones.

You set the suit and shoes in the back seat of your car once your back at Caitlyn’s before she’s walking out in a Colorado crewneck and jumping into your passenger seat.

“Can you look for a place we can get dinner after I drop this off to Tyson?” You ask of her as she buckled her seatbelt and you back out of her driveway. The two of you make banter and eventually find a wing place to eat as you drive down the highway to Loveland.

Once you arrive at the apartment Tyson had texted you the address of, you’re climbing up the stairs to the front door, suit, and shoes in hand, before rapping at the door. You kind of knew you were cutting it close with his suit delivery, so you were anxiously tapping your foot as you waited for the door to swing open.

Tyson opens the door a tired look on his face as he’s taking a bite of what you see is a home-made sandwich. “You’re a lifesaver.” He groans, stepping to the side to let you in.

“It’s not a problem,” You assure, folding over the suit over the tops of your arms. “Here’s your suit.”

“Where’s the one I had laid out?” He asked confused as he reaches for your outstretched arms to take his clothes from you. You knit your eyebrows in confusion as you think back to how you didn’t see a suit set out anywhere in his room.

“There was no suit laid out in your room, which is a mess by the way,” You point out quickly. “So I just picked one out from your closet, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” Tyson smiles, rubbing his thumbs over the lapel of the blazer. The image of you browsing through his closet popped into his mind, a rather domestic image that caused his smile to grow wider. The thought of you doing that without being asked to caused butterflies to slight erupt in his stomach and his cheek started to heat up with the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I think you need some new socks, all of them were so boring.” Tyson laughs at your statement. “Get some striped ones or ones with polka dots, I don’t know, just not plain grey and black ones.”

He nods his heads stifling a laugh at your odd request before the owner of the apartment appears from a hallway in his suit. Tyson quickly introduces the two of you before he’s pushing you out the door so he can get dressed and head to the game. As you turn your body to head back to your car, Tyson stops you.

“I have exciting news before you go.”

“Yeah?”

“This is my last game,” He beams, his eyes squinting from how wide his smile is. “I’m playing against Vancouver after the all-star break in a few days.”

You shriek at the news your best friend is sharing with you, “Oh my God! That’s amazing!” You open your arms welcoming Tyson in a congratulatory hug. “Told you you were a superstar,” you whisper as you pull away. The two of you share a soft look before you finally let go of your friend saying you’ll see him later.

You and Caitlyn are sitting in the lower bowl of the Budweiser Event Center, enjoying your beers and each other’s company while also focusing on the two teams in front of you. The both of you had agreed how nice it was to be back at a hockey game, both of you not being able to attend any in a little over a month with how busy you were. It was especially nice seeing Tyson play, you could see the jump in his body as he floated around the ice seamlessly.

It’s late in the game when it happens. Tyson’s skating down the far half-wall about to cross the blue line to enter the zone with the puck when an opposing player plows through his lonesome figure, sending him into the wall with a very loud thud. You gasp, leaning forward in your seat and reaching out for Caitlyn’s hand. You watch him as he stands up, grateful for the fact that he’s even able to do that quickly given the harshness of the hit, but watch him as he skates away back to the bench slowly.

He immediately walks down the tunnel to the locker rooms and you lean in your seat further, bringing your free hand to your face to bite on your cuticles out of nervousness. Caitlyn squeezing your hand combined with the loud voice over the arena speakers announcing the penalties brings you back down to earth. Your fingers stay at your lips for a moment longer until the sudden urge to scratch at your elbow envelops your mind.

“Hey, he’s probably fine and just got the wind knocked out of him.” Caitlyn reasons. You both know she has no idea what she’s talking about, but the thought behind it is welcomed. The remainder of the game feels like a lifetime as you anxiously check your phone for texts from Tyson, tweets from the team, anything that may give you insight on what’s happened.

At the same time as the final buzzer sounding throughout the arena, your phone vibrates in your hand where you’re holding it tightly. A text from Tyson pops up.

Tyson: im okay

Tyson: sorry it took so long to text you i was going through concussion protocol

Y/N: so you’re fine?!

Tyson: no

Tyson: i have a concussion

You groan at the response, showing Caitlyn your conversation before typing out a response saying you’ll meet him by the locker room shortly.

Tyson emerges from the locker room, holding an ice pack to his left shoulder. Upon seeing the ice pack, your shoulders drop out of sympathy for him and you feel a pang in your chest. As he approaches you, head down to avoid the bright, white, LED lights in the hallway, you let out a low ‘Tyson’.

“Hey.”

“You said you just got a concussion,” you point to the icepack on his shoulder.

“It just hurts.” He winces, eyebrows knitting in pain. You give him a side-hug, careful to not aggravate his shoulder.

“I, uh, I’m going to need a ride back to Denver,” Tyson starts. “I can’t drive.”

You rub his good shoulder, trying to comfort him as you look back towards Caitlyn. “Can you drive my car home and I’ll drive his car home? You can just park it at your house.”

Caitlyn agrees, the three of you walking out to the parking garage making small talk before you go your separate ways. The hour-long drive is spent in quiet, Tyson leaning his head against the window with his eyes closed for the most of it. He only lifts his head when he feels the car drive over the junction between the black asphalt of the street and the concrete of his driveway.

The two of you walk into his home, him instantly making way down the stairs to his bedroom while you opt to go to the kitchen to get the both of you glasses of water. Another few moments pass before you decide to venture down to his room.

He’s in the dark, only his bathroom light illuminating his vast bedroom. He’s laying on his back in the middle of the bed, his legs dangling off the edge. He groans a little at the noise of your feet padding along the hardwood before sitting up and leaning back on his hands.

“You feeling okay?” You ask, moving to sit down next to him and hand him the other glass of water.

“I’m fine,” He mumbles and you know he’s just processing the injury and everything going on with his career so you stay quiet, letting him be the one to decide when to speak. Instead, you too lean back on your hands, resting yours right next to Tyson’s, pinkies touching. His hand flinches at the touch but he doesn’t move away.

“I just can’t catch a break it seems,” He breathes out barely above a whisper. He lays back onto the bed, falling into the fluffy comforter and rubs his face with hands.

“Tys,” you drag out. You twist your body around, tucking your legs underneath you on the bed to face him. There’s a pull in your body that wants you to reach out and move his hands from his face or even put a reassuring hand on his thigh but something in you stops you. “Things like this happen to everyone, you just have to get healthy and play just like you were when you got the call saying you were going back to the Avs.”

“But if I would’ve just been skating with my head up I could’ve avoided the hit.”

“That guy absolutely blew into you, I don’t think much would’ve stopped him from doing that. It was a dirty hit and he knows it.”

Tyson mumbles out an ‘I guess’ before sitting up abruptly with a groan. “You want ice cream? I want ice cream.” He decides, standing up and reaching out for you. You grab his hand, standing up from his couch and following him up the stairs to the kitchen.

“I didn’t think you health nuts even knew what ice cream was.” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. Throughout the whole time you knew Tyson and his roommates, the most unhealthy thing you had seen them eat were chocolate almond butter cups and those were from Whole Foods so it barely counted as junk food in your eyes. Tyson pulls out a pint of ice cream and you look to inspect it, noting the words ‘dairy-free’ on it.

You roll your eyes, “I take that back because of course you have the ice cream that’s considered healthy.”

Tyson laughs at you as he grabs two spoons from the drawer across the kitchen from you. He smiles instead of responding right away, and your face mirrors him, a large smile now playing at your lips.

He places the two spoons on the island next to the pint, going to the edge of the kitchen and turning the light off so the only light in the kitchen is the light from the entryway and the light on off the back door creeping through the large kitchen windows. Tyson takes a seat next to you on the barstool opening the ice cream and digging his spoon in.

The two of you eat the first few bites in silence before Tyson sticks his spoon into the pint one last time. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course, I do have one request though.” You start, Tyson raising his eyebrows in curiosity. “Can I help pick out your suits more often? That was fun.”

“That just means me bugging you more about my colorblindness, ya know.” He jokes. “But, I’ll take it.”

“I think you need to incorporate more prints into your closet, all of your suits are so plain.”

“I have two striped ones, what are you talking about?” He asks incredulously with a laugh.

You put your spoon in your mouth, eating the bit of soupy ice cream that’s still left. As you chew you mentally go through his closet. “Yeah, but you need some plaids and checks.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You laugh at his inability to stray away from solids, even though you’ve seen him in some crazy printed t-shirts before. You dig your spoon in the ice cream for one more bite before clasping the lid back on. Tyson moves to put it back in the freezer, but you stop him and do it yourself, also placing the two spoons in the dishwasher.

“So, what’s next?” You ask, talking about the next steps of his concussion injury and training.

Tyson leans back in his chair, running one of his hands through the hair on the back of his head. “Pretty much just rest until it goes away, then play some more in Loveland, then hopefully get the call to come back to Denver full-time.”

You watch him as he speaks from across the kitchen, focused on the softness and uncertainty in his voice. He was not only in physical pain from the hit a few hours prior, but also clearly mentally beating himself up. Tyson was one of the hardest workers you had ever met. He was someone that went to practice early and stayed late if it meant more ice-time and reps, someone that put in those extra miles on his morning runs, someone that watched and studied game-tape until his eyes were strained from the blue light of the screen. Knowing how hard he worked day in and day out only made your heart ache more at the circumstances the brunette found himself in.

You walk quietly over back to Tyson, standing next to him where he’s sitting. He turns around to gaze up at your face before you begin speaking.

“You’re the hardest worker I know, I believe in you.”

Tyson, in a moment of both vulnerability and bravery, lens his head forward and rests his head on your chest. You’re surprised by his actions and your movements are stuttered before you wrap your arms around his neck and run a hand through his curls. He lets out a hum, his eyes fluttering shut at the newfound comfort you’re giving him.

The two of you stand for a few more moments, reveling in the contact and the quietness surround you due to the late night and emptiness of the home. Your eyes glance to the clock, noting how late it’s gotten. You want to pull away to tell him you should head home soon, your breathing starting to slow due to being tired. Your early work morning combined with the whirlwind events that happened over the past two hours pushed your mind to the point of exhaustion.

However, you don’t move away, knowing this is what your best friend needs most right now. The feeling of comfort and being with someone that knew him as deeply as you did being something he desperately needed. An itch on your elbow pulls you out of your thoughts and Tyson whines when you slightly pull away to scratch at it, to which you chuckle.

“I had an itch,” You pause, leaning back away from Tyson so he has to sit up straight. “And besides, it’s starting to get late. I should head home soon.”

Tyson doesn’t whine again but slouches his shoulders and puffs out his lower lip, giving you a puppy dog look that you haven’t seen much when he’s sober. “Please stay.”

The request surprises you. Sure, the two of you are insanely close, but the two of you never really had sleepovers due to your schedules and only ever stayed over on drunken nights when it was an easy decision to make. Come to think of it, the last time you guys even slept in the same house was before you dated Aiden, when you shared a hotel room at the Landeskog wedding.

You contemplate the thought, being one that usually didn’t mind driving home at the late hours of the night. His eyes were puffy, a sure sign from how tired he’s been lately, the scrape underneath it from his visor bright red, and his overall aura was screaming please, so you give in. “I need sweatpants then.” you motion to the jeans adorning your legs and he jumps up.

“You got it.”

You follow him down the stairs back to his bedroom and watch him move around his room, cleaning up some of the mess and tossing you a pair of sweats.

Once you reemerge from the ensuite bathroom, you see Tyson laying down in bed, covers up to his armpits. He turns his head towards you then pats the emptiness beside him, gesturing for you to lay down. He’s got this dopey look on your face that melts your heart and you smile, holding your jeans to your chest tightly.

“I can sleep on the couch, it really isn’t a big deal.”

“It isn’t but why sleep on the couch when there’s a perfectly comfy spot for you in a bed?” He jokes. You can barely see his facial features now that you’ve turned the bathroom light off and you flip the flashlight on on your phone, being careful not to shine it towards his face. You smile nervously as you set your jeans down by your shoes at the foot of the bed and carefully climb into bed next to him.

“Maybe leave a little room for a girl, jeez,” You comment, trying to maneuver around Tyson’s sprawled out body. You miss the way he rolls his eyes as he dramatically pulls his body into a plank-like position. You set your phone down on the dresser next to you before getting comfortable despite the anxiety you’re starting to feel. Your stomach shouldn’t be in knots right now, should it?

“I know I said it before, but I really appreciate you coming tonight.” Tyson starts, sighing out a large breath of air. He’s twiddling his fingers in front of him, occasionally bringing them to his lips to bite on his hangnails. “It means a lot having someone by my side through all of this. It can be hard talking to Kerfy and JT sometimes.”

You turn your body to face him, still leaving a substantial amount of space between the two of you in the expanse of his king-sized bed. “That’s what best friends are for, Tys. Don’t ever hesitate to talk to me. It can be about anything, hockey, family, music, whatever you want and I’ll listen. Just know that you can talk to JT and Alexander too, they’ve been in your shoes being in the AHL and they just want to see you back with them just as much as the rest of us. Well, maybe not more than your family and me. We’re your biggest fans.”

“Biggest fans, eh?” he quirks an eyebrow up.

“Yeah, didn’t you know? We’re all in a group chat and it’s called Tyson Jost’s Fan Club. We just send pictures of you back and forth.” You joke, causing a loud, boisterous laugh to escape from Tyson’s mouth.

“You’ve never even talked to any of them besides my Grandpa, shut up.” He lets out once he’s calmed down from laughing, a loud yawn following.

“We should go to sleep, it’s been an exhausting day for both of us.”

“But I’ve missed talking to you.” He admits. And honestly, the statement has you thinking. This probably is the most time the two of you have spent alone together in months, so you give in and talk with him about anything and everything until he suddenly stops responding and you see his mouth droop open with heavy breaths of air coming out.

Sleep didn’t find you as easily, though, as you gazed at your best friend across the bed, thoughts consumed your brain. The two of you had nowhere near a physically affectionate friendship and all of the small touches and long gazes that happened throughout the day have a smile forming on your lips as you continue to look at the brunette in front of you. Yeah, the two of you laid soft touches on the other but it was usually when you had alcohol in your system or when you were especially tired. The look he gave you in the kitchen moments prior is what stuck with you as you drifted off to sleep.

The next few days for Tyson were spent just like that night. You would go over there after work and stay until you headed home later that night. As the days passed those late-night drives were spent with more and more yawns but it was worth it if it meant seeing Tyson and keeping him company.

That was until today. You had gotten behind on your project at work from being at Tyson’s so much recently so you had told him last night when you left his house that you’d see him in a few days. As your phone rang during your lunch break with Tyson’s face filling the screen, you should’ve known what he was about to say was coming.

“Please come over later, I’m going insane being by myself. The guys don’t get back from the all-star break until Friday and I can’t look at any screen or sleep because of my concussion so I need you to entertain me.” Tyson rushes out.

“Aren’t you supposed to see the team doctors today?” You ask confusedly. It was barely 1:30 in the afternoon so you thought he would be at the training facility still.

“I already did, I still have a concussion,” Tyson confirms. “I just have to go back every other day to get checked. They said it’s looking better and it’s less serious than they thought which is good.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” you nod. You really do want to see him later, getting used to seeing him every day for the past few days. Part of you knows that one day won’t hurt either of you and that you know you’ll just be at his place tomorrow, but something in your mind is telling you to go over there after work. “If I come over later, I’m bringing my laptop, I need to get some stuff done to prepare for a meeting I have on Thursday.”

“That’s fine, I’ll order us food even, as a thank you.”

You want to argue with him, not wanting him to spend his money on you but the two of you have had that conversation a hundred different times all ending with the same result. You usually said you made ‘big girl’ money and were proud of it to which he said he was proud too, but he also made ‘big boy’ money and had enough leftover to comfortably spend it on his closest friends.

“Sounds perfect,” You smile. “My lunch break is about to end, so I have to go but I’ll text you when I leave later.”

Tyson says goodbye and the rest of your workday flies by and next thing you know, you’re pulling your car into Tyson’s driveway. You see the garage open so you walk thought it, closing it as you enter the door inside. Once your dinner is consumed the two of you migrate to the living room couch where you pull your laptop on your lap to start working on your meeting notes.

“What’re you doing?” Tyson inquires, leaning towards you to get a better look at your screen.

“I have a meeting to kick-off a project later this week so I’m just making sure I have all of my notes done.” You explain, typing away at the keyboard. “It’s a bigger one, so there are a lot more steps and handoffs and stuff you might not understand.”

“No, tell me, I wanna know.” He urges, scootching his body closer to yours so your thighs touch. As he stops moving, you think of how easy it would to just fall into him and rest your head against the broadness of his chest. You focus more on the screen in front of you, dimming the brightness so it doesn’t hurt Tyson’s eyes and explain it to him. Before long, his head plops onto your shoulder, snores escaping his slightly ajar mouth. You gaze at him, noticing the cut that was once bright red on his cheekbone is now just a scratch and you reach out to run your finger over it. He stirs at the touch, and you freeze out of panic before focusing back on your laptop and continuing to work.

The stillness around you makes your eyes start to droop and you slowly start to slouch more and more on the couch before resting your head atop Tyson’s and joining him in sleep.

Your phone ringing on full-volume next to you pulls you from your sleep. You see Caitlyn’s name as you grab it and slide to answer the phone.

“Are you still at Tyson’s? I was closing my garage and saw your car across the street.” She asked in way of a greeting.

“Uh, yeah, we fell asleep.” You say, voice groggy and laced with sleep. You open your eyes more, looking to Tyson’s still sleeping figure and noticing the movement the two of you have made. His head isn’t on your shoulder anymore, as it fell in his sleep to use your chest as a cushion. His hand that’s closer to you is draped across your thigh the other outstretched along the couch. “What time is it?”

“Almost 10:30. Wait, what do you mean we? Like, you and Tyson sleeping together?” She asks, almost in a shriek-like voice. Your body jumps awake at the notification of how late it’s gotten, Tyson sliding off your body from the movement.

“I was working and he fell asleep next, well on me, and then I fell asleep. Shit, I didn’t think I’d fall asleep for this long.” You curse. Tyson stirs next to you, slowing opening his eyes and groaning at the disruption in sleep. “I gotta go though, I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

“Who was that?”

“Caitlyn, she was confused since she saw that my car was still here.” You respond, sitting further up and moving your laptop to the coffee table in front of you. Tyson looks at his phone checking the time before letting a ‘holy shit’ seeing that it’s also pitch black outside.

“I’m gonna head out soon, I think.”

“You can stay, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t have any of my work stuff for tomorrow and I don’t want to have to rush around in the morning.” You explain, rubbing your hands along your thighs. You lean forward, pushing a hand through your hair to fix the mess that was caused from your nap and stand up. He sits up further on the couch before joining you in standing, a loud sigh coming from his mouth.

“I’ll still see you tomorrow though, eh?” He checks.

“Yes, I just have to make sure my work is all done since I clearly didn’t get much done here.” You laugh. He follows you to the front door of his house, unlocking and opening it for you. Once your coat is slipped on you open your arms to hug him, “Such a gentleman.”

“For you? Always” He jokes cheekily. You smile at the comment before pulling back, but Tyson doesn’t let go of you so easily. You look up at him, then back to your feet, then back up to Tyson once more.

“Okay, I really gotta go,” You yawn.

Instead of letting you go, Tyson moves one of his hands from around your shoulders to the back of your head and pulling you into him. His lips land on the curve of your forehead before he whispers out a bye. You smile and close your eyes in content at the gesture, before you walk down the sidewalk to your car, turning once to wave to your best friend. The smile didn’t leave your face the entire drive home, and you honestly probably fell asleep with the same glee-filled smile plastered onto your face thinking of the new addition of the physicality of your friendship and how you could really get used it.

February 2019 - Denver, CO

“Do you want to go get lunch together? I haven’t eaten out for lunch in so long.” Caitlyn asks, barging through your office door. You peer up at your friend, abandoning the email you’re working on in front of you.

“I actually have lunch plans with Tyson, we’re getting poke.” A slight frown playing at your lips, as you decline her offer. “What about margs sometime this week? It can be a girl’s night.”

She smiles at your suggestion nodding her head, “That sounds perfect! Do you want to go out for them or stay in?”

“Hmm,” you hum. “Let’s go out tomorrow? Taco Tuesday at Aztecas?”

“Ooo, yes! Meet there at 7?” She asks, moving further into your office and sitting in the chair on the opposite side of your desk. you nod your head in agreement, turning your focus into the computer screen in front of you again. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him haven’t you?”

“Who?” You ask, directing your attention back to her from where you started typing at your computer again.

“Tyson.”

“Oh, yeah.” You say, quickly typing out the details of your email so you can focus on your coworker in front of you. “I guess we kinda have. When he got his concussion two weeks ago I was one of the few people that were in town with the timing of it all and stuff.”

“Every time I looked out my window, your car was in his driveway.” She notes, eyebrow quirked.

“I would just go there, like, right after work and then I’d leave when I wanted to go to bed. We would just get food and hang out, just like we used to.”

“You mean like back before you had a boyfriend?” She asks. “Like last season when you guys were always getting dinner together or like all summer when he was constantly calling you?”

As Caitlyn concludes her questions, you lean back in your office chair thinking back on the past few months. You hadn’t really paid attention to your new habits with Tyson, but you were spending way more time with him than usual, but you just thought it was the extra free time the both of you have had lately. When you were with Aiden you only saw Tyson maybe once a week and most times it was in a group setting.

“I guess, yeah.” You smile. You had thoroughly been enjoying all the time you spent with him lately, all the laughter and banter was welcomed and the two of you knew exactly what to do to annoy the other one without ever crossing a line. “Do you think we were touchy before, me and Tys?”

Caitlyn crosses one leg over the other, “I don’t think so? Like you guys were just always with one another when we were in groups. When you were drunk, though? That’s another story.”

With Caitlyn answering the question the way she did, you knew you had to address the newfound physicality and affection between you and Tyson. Before you can get into more detail on why you chose to bring that up Caitlyn asks you,

“Have you guys been more touchy lately?”

“We take naps together now, which is like, kind of a lot in a way? I don’t know,” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath as you try to gather your words to describe the feeling. “You know me, I don’t take naps but it’s like, we’ll be watching tv or something and he’ll just fall asleep and it’s not like he’s on the other side of the couch, Caitlyn. He’s right next to me and then he’s asleep with half his body weight on me and the feeling like, lulls me to sleep and we’ll wake up in the same position and not talk about it.”

Caitlyn watches you as you avoid her gaze as you talk, unsure of what she’s going to say about the new information. Especially when she was the one friend you had that really made you dig deeper as to why you felt certain things. The two of you hadn’t spent much time together outside of work lately, with her and Jack living together and you spending so much time with Tyson after his concussion.

“I also spent the night when he got hurt, like, as in I spent the night in his bed.”

“What?” She exclaims, jumping forward to the edge of her seat. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Nothing happened,” You assure with a chuckle. “We fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed and woke up that way.” You think back to that night and how when you woke up, you would’ve assumed the two of you would’ve moved positions throughout the night, but you somehow didn’t and woke up face away from him, back inches away from his.

“How do you feel about those changes in your guys’ friendship?”

“I think I like it. Part of me kinda thinks I just like the extra attention I’m getting, but the other part just thinks that’s just how we are now, ya know?”

“I see what you mean about the just liking the extra attention part, but I think it’s just how you guys are. Even if the two of you weren’t being physically affectionate through your friendship, the two of you were still affectionate in other ways.”

What she says makes sense, as you think about all the small quirks your friendship consisted of. He was always getting you refills at parties and the bar, offering to be the one that drove, grocery shopping together, while you helped make sure he kept his room clean and urged to him to let loose with you every once in a while. He kept you young while you grounded him.

“All I know is that I haven’t even realized how much time I’ve been spending with him lately, which I’m really grateful for.” You smile softly. “He’s actually gonna be playing again in a few days I think.”

The two of you continue talking about Tyson being able to return to the team and solidify your plans for tacos and margs tomorrow before she’s bouncing out of your office.

A few days later, Tyson was thankfully cleared to play again. Spending the first few days back in Loveland before getting the call to return to Denver. A call you hoped, primarily for Tyson’s sake, that was a more-permanent decision the coaching staff had made. You hadn’t seen him much in those few days, letting him get acclimated to the pace of the NHL once again.

The three of you settle into your seats, feeling at ease from being back at the Pepsi Center for the first time since Tyson’s call-up. This time, however, you didn’t complain when Tyson offered to get the three of you tickets. You all hadn’t been able to go to any of the other games since Tyson’s call-up due to work events, Valentine’s Day, and your mom’s birthday, but as Tyson said the date didn’t matter as long as you’d come to one sooner rather than later.

It happens fast, you look from Caitlyn next to you to the ice in front of you due to an increase in cheering and you watch as Tyson catches as a pass on the edge of his blade before slapping a one-timer at the goal from the slot, goal horn sounding as the puck passes the goal line. You jump, arms thrusting in the air and loudly cheering ‘that’s my fucking best friend’ into the expanse of the crowd.

The next two periods flew by, Varlamov getting the shutout while Calvert and Agozzino added to the scoresheet. You all head out, walking towards the parking garage down the street you parked out as you send a great goal text to Tyson and telling him to call you when he gets a chance.

An hour later, when you’re back in you’re apartment getting your stuff ready for your workday tomorrow, your phone finally rings, notifying you of an incoming call from Tyson. When the facetime call connects, you see him, a wide-smile and wet curly hair all over the place.

“Hey! Great game!” You exclaim, the happiness behind your words coming though with the wide smile that’s filling your face.

“Thank you! I’m glad you guys were able to catch this game.” He smiles. His phone is shaking from him walking around his house, as you watch the background change from his kitchen to the stairwell to his bedroom before he’s plopping down onto his bed. “It was so good to score, y/n, I want to bottle that feeling.”

His eyes twinkle in the dim lighting of his room as he speaks, the sight of it making you feel more than elated for your best friend. “I’m really proud of you, I know I tell you that a lot, but you deserve feeling that way all the time, Tys.” You say softly, voice laced with sincerity.

“I just have to continue to play the way I did tonight, and then there’ll be no doubt I’m supposed to on the roster. I know my roster spot isn’t a given any night and it never will be, but I want everyone to be confident in the decision to put me in the line-up every night.” He rambles. As he speaks you’re making your way to your bathroom, ready to start your nightly routine.

You set your phone against your mirror as you put your hair into a low bun before grabbing a washcloth to wash your face. He starts talking your ears off about how happy he is to be back with the guys and the team chemistry as you finish getting ready for bed. You miss the way he looks at you as you brush your teeth since you’re too focused on the movements of your actions, but what you don’t miss is the ding on your phone with a new text message.

Once you’re done spitting out your excess toothpaste and wiping your mouth, you grab your phone and head to your bed before looking at the message. “Tyson, what did you just send me we’re literally on the phone.” You laugh before fully opening the text and seeing the picture attached. It’s a screenshot from your call taken only a few minutes ago. Tyson’s dark smiling face in the top right corner while your face fills out the screen. At first glance, it looks like an accidental screenshot but with closer examination as well as Tyson’s muffled laughs on the line, you see the toothpaste dribbling down your chin and your eyebrows are knitted with determination.

You groan loudly as you swipe back to your FaceTime call, “Tyson, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know that, maybe I’ll just hang up and stop coming to your games” you stick your tongue out.

“No!” Tyson interrupts. “You have to at least come to my games, you’re my good luck charm now.” He pouts, mouth quivering from trying not to smile.

“Fine.” You huff, a smile cracking on your lips. The two of you talk for a little while longer, both in bed, eyes drooping and words slurred with sleep. You’re not sure when you fall asleep and you’re more unsure if you even hang up your call before you’re snoring.

You end up going to his next game two days later against Winnipeg, where he scored once again and recorded two assists. After that performance, he continued to insist that you were his lucky charm, to which you laughed and brushed off the comment.

tag list: @reavenedges-lies @oilers2997 (let me know if you wanted to be added!)

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost #alex writes #nhl imagine #ybtmastm fic #hockey imagine #surprise!

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calciopics · 2 years

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FIFA World Cup 2022 - Budweiser Players of the Semi-final - Matchweek 4

#FIFA World Cup Qatar 2022 #Semi-final #Budweiser Player of the Match #Argentina NT #France NT #Lionel Messi #Leo Messi #Messi #antoine griezmann #Griezmann #football #fussball #fußball #foot #fodbod #futbol #futebol #soccer #calcio

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uswntpoc · 4 years

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Lynn Williams wins Budweiser Player of the Match!

#lynn williams

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momtrodi-official · 2 years

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🐐 The GOAT debate is settled. The ultimate prize is now part of the collection. The legacy is complete. On the day @Argentina won their third #FIFAWorldCup   , Leo Messi is your @Budweiser Player of the Match. 🐐 🇦🇷 #ARGFRA 🇫🇷 #POTM    #YoursToTake    #BringHomeTheBud @budfootball https://www.instagram.com/p/CmVd_P6s3u5/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#fifaworldcup #argfra #potm #yourstotake #bringhomethebud

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vawnn · 5 years

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The World Cup is over but the soccer/futbol doesn’t stop there.

New to Women’s Soccer and want to continue to watch the players your fell in love with? Well lucky you, club season isn’t over just yet....there’s another trophy on the line now. Watch national teammates hack at each other’s ankles in the NWSL.

How to watch: USA: Yahoo Sports International: NWSL Website

Some teams have broadcast deals with local networks. US fans who can’t get ESPN for specific matches can download a VPN and watch via the NWSL site.

Cost: Tickets are as low as $15~20[Or cheaper with promotions]

Take a friend, a family member, coworker,or go by yourself. Buy merch, drive that long commute, and get your a$$ in a seat because the league and players need you. Watch this ---> Budweiser Ad

****Below are the 9 clubs with their locations w/ USA & Internationals who played in the World Cup.**** Nwsl site isn’t the most accurate so forgive me.

National Women’s Soccer League - Twitter

Chicago Red Stars - Twitter

Plays out of: Bridgeview, IL (Seatgeek Stadium)

USWNT: Julie Ertz, Alyssa Naeher, Morgan Brian, Tierna Davidson Internationals: Sam Kerr(AUS)

Houston Dash - Twitter

Plays out of: Houston, TX (BBVA Stadium)

USWNT: [ No current players from the WC Roster BUT some don’t know it’s 100% possible to support a team regardless if your fav NTer is on it or not ;) ] Internationals: Rachel Daly(ENG),Clare Polkinghorne(AUS), Kyah Simon(AUS), Nichelle Prince(CAN),Sophie Schmidt(CAN), Allysha Chapman(CAN), Lindsay Agnew(CAN),

North Carolina Courage - Twitter

Plays out of: Cary, NC (Sahlen’s Stadium @ Wakemed )

USWNT: Crystal Dunn,Sam Mewis, Jessica McDonald, Abby Dalhkemper Internationals: Debinha(BRA), Stephanie Labbe(CAN), Abby Erceg(NZL)

Orlando Pride - Twitter

Plays out of: Orlando,FL (Exploria Stadium)

USWNT: Ali Krieger, Alex Morgan, Ashlyn Harris Internationals: Marta(BRA), Camila(BRA), Alanna Kennedy(AUS), Monica(BRA), Shelina Zadorsky(CAN)

Portland Thorns FC - Twitter

Plays out of: Portland,OR(Providence Park)

USWNT: Tobin Heath. Lindsey Horan, Adrianna Franch, Emily Sonnet Internationals: Caitlin Foord(AUS), Ellie Carpenter(AUS), Hayley Raso(AUS), Andressinha(BRA),Christine Sinclair(CAN)

Reign FC - Twitter

Plays out of: Tacoma,Washington(Cheney Stadium)

USWNT: Allie Long, Megan Rapinoe Internationals: Lydia Williams(AUS), Steph Catley(AUS), Elise Kellond-Knight(AUS), Adriana Leon(CAN), Celia Jimenz Delgado(SPN) Rumi Utsugi(JPN) Emma Kete(NZL)

Sky Blue FC - Twitter

Plays out of: Piscataway,NJ(Yurcak Field)

USWNT: Carli Lloyd

Internationals: Kailen Sheridan(CAN), Estelle Johnson(CAM)

Utah Royals FC - Twitter

Plays out of: Salt Lake City, Utah (Rio Tinto Stadium)

USWNT: Becky Sauerbrunn, Christen Press, Kelley O’Hara Internationals: Katrina Goory(AUS),Desiree Scott(CAN),Katie Bowen(NZL) Rachel Corsie(SCO)

Washington Spirit - Twitter

Plays out of: Boyds,MD(Maryland Soccer Plex) w/ games @ Audi Field in Washington,DC*

USWNT: Rose Lavelle, Mallory Pugh Internationals: Chloe Logarzo(AUS), Cheyna Matthews(JAM),Francisca Ordega(NGA)

FURT.

#womens world cup #nwsl #uswnt #soccer #football #wwc 2019 #sports #----whoops if there are errors/if I forgot someone

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imhereformysciencefriends · 5 years

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@allurashipweek

Day 1: Angel/Goddess

Rating: Explicit

Content warnings: sexual content, alcohol ment.

“Did it hurt, when you fell from heaven?” Matt joked, aiming to get a laugh out of the astoundingly beautiful woman at the bar.

“Oh I didn’t fall, I’m just visiting,” she said, looking up from her soda. He watched her give him a one over—his video game t-shirt but nice jacket, long hair pulled into a new ponytail in an attempt to make himself look a little less messy. She seemed to find him acceptable, which was the most he could hope for, in this kind of scenario.

“Visiting?” Matt asked, laughing himself, “How’s the weather down here?”

“Much more lively than in heaven; I like the wind we’ve been getting.”

Matt laughed again, well and deeply charmed, and held out a hand. “I’m Matt.”

“Allura,” she said, taking it. A fitting name, he thought.

“Game of pool?” Matt asked, jerking a thumb to the quarters-to-play pool table underneath a Budweiser lamp. Allura looked curious, perking up a bit, and nodded, picking up her drink.

“I’ve never played, but I know the gist of it,” she said, walking to the cue sticks while Matt plugged quarters into the slots and sent the balls rolling out. “You pick either stripes or solids, and try to get all of yours in the holes before your opponent gets theirs. But the eight ball has to go last.”

“Exactly,” Matt affirmed, setting the balls into the triangle. “You got a preference?”

“Hmm, stripes.”

“Sweet,” he said, grabbing a stick of his own. He dug out one more quarter and tossed it, then covered the coin with his hand once he’d caught it. “Call it.”

“I’ll call heads.”

Matt looked, and it was tails. As he got the cue ball into position for the break, he struck up idle conversation.

“So, Allura, what do you do?”

“I’m something like a mix between a secretary and a messenger. Never a dull moment. You?”

“I’m a microbiologist at NASA,” Matt said with pride, sending the balls skittering over the table, “Did a stint in mechanical engineering and software programming before I finally found what I wanted in microbio.”

“That’s quite impressive. I didn’t know NASA had microbiologists,” Allura said, leaning over the pool table in a way that was decidedly bad form. It was like she’d only seen people play pool in sexy pinup magazines; which on one hand was very nice for Matt’s eyes but on the other was not going to be good for her ability to win or Matt’s ability to keep his thoughts respectful.

“NASA has a lot of things,” Matt said, trying really, really hard not to look at the way her cleavage swelled in her dress, “You know, it’s easier if you, uh, don’t stand exactly like that.”

Allura stood straight again, but also removed her cue stick from the table. “You’re good at this?”

Matt shrugged a little, feeling kinda flustered. “I’m okay. My old man says a master pool player should know five moves ahead of his next turn but uh,” Matt laughed, somewhat nervous, “I’m no master. I’m decent, though. Win about as many games as I lose.”

Allura bit her lip, which was very pretty, and beckoned Matt over to her. “Show me how to do this, then?”

“Sure! So, you line up with your ball like so,” Matt said, demonstrating with his own cue stick. Allura eyed him with an unreadable expression for a moment, then grabbed him by the elbow.

“Here, help me. Like this?” she asked as she placed his hand on her waist, and then bent to aim at the cue ball. Matt felt his face heat up, but pressed boldly onward, guiding her in a hands-on way.

“Yeah, but hold your stick like this,” Matt directed, distracted by her thick hair and how nice she smelled and the fact that her skin was really, really soft where he braced her wrist. “There you go.”

Allura struck the cue ball and sank three stripes. Matt whistled. “Quick learner.”

“Thanks,” Allura said, “So, NASA?”

“It’s fun,” Matt said as he watched her line up again. He kept his eyes on her hair and not her very large breasts, which looked all but ready to fall out of her dress when she bent over, “I work pretty close to my mom, who’s the head botanist there. My whole family works at NASA, actually, dad’s one of the head engineers there, it’s how he and mom met. Now I’m recently employed and my little sibling is an intern.”

“Aw, that’s so nice!” Allura said, “A whole, family thing, that’s adorable.” She sounded genuinely charmed, and it made Matt smile.

“Yeah, it’s great. We’re all really close, and also really busy, so it works out well for us all to work together at the same place. I don’t think I’d ever see my parents, otherwise. Pidge drops in on my apartment randomly, though, so I see them around.”

Matt lined up for his turn and managed to sink one of his solids. “What’s your family like?”

“Hm. Well, I respect my father immensely, but don’t speak directly to him often. My siblings and I sometimes get along, sometimes don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“Matt, as much as I enjoy hearing you talk about your family, I’d prefer not to speak of mine.”

“Oh, sorry, okay,” Matt said, missing his next shot. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes. What are your hobbies?”

Allura brightened visibly, and Matt felt his heart ka-thump. “I love singing. I also garden a little, but singing is easily my favorite pastime.”

“Hey that’s awesome! Sing something?”

“Maybe later; I’d prefer not to draw a crowd,” Allura said with a wink. Matt laughed, watching her sink two more stripes.

“That good, or just cheeky?”

“What can I say? I’m a spectacle.”

“I’d say!”

Matt and Allura played the game, Allura doing very, very, very well, and Matt had a nice time, he did. He honestly did. Just. By the time Allura sunk the eight ball, he felt like he hadn’t actually gotten any solid information about her. She was charming, but all he actually knew was that she liked singing and gardened a little, meanwhile he’d spoken plenty about himself, at her prompting. It gave a pretty stark impression that she was maybe not that interested in him.

Which, okay, that was totally fine. A game of pool and a friendly conversation with a beautiful woman was not a bad way to strike out, as far as Matt was concerned. So he didn’t think he’d actually get her number, that was fine. It had still been a fun evening.

“So, any plans for tonight?” Matt asked, ever the optimist, but not with high expectations.

“Oh, nothing much,” Allura said blithely, smiling at Matt as she placed her cue stick back on the rack and propped her hip against the table. “My plans were just to come out to a bar, find myself a nice, deeply unthreatening man, and then get absolutely railed by him.”

Allura looked directly at Matt’s frozen, gaping face. “I found myself a highly suitable candidate. You?”

Not strike out. Not anything even close to striking out. Holy shit. When Matt gathered his jaw up off the floor, he begged, positively pleaded with his brain to say something even vaguely intelligent or witty. Please.

“My plans were to make a total idiot out of myself in front of a pretty girl,” Matt said with a nervous chuckle. “How’m I doing?”

Allura laughed, then got closer. “Not as badly as you could,” she assured. She placed her hand delicately on Matt’s forearm and he swallowed hard. “I like talking with you, Matt, and I liked playing pool with you. You’re just about the only man I’ve met that didn’t try to buy me alcohol or stare down my tits, despite my increasingly obvious attempts to get you to do so.”

“I mean, if you want a drink I can—”

“My tits, Matt. I want you to look at them.”

“Oh.”

So he looked. They were really, really nice breasts. His brain, the thing he was the most proud of out of all his attributes, was firmly shut down. Matt’s buffering, try pausing and coming back later. Call the factory, they’ll get back to you in five to seven business days.

“Matt?” Allura asked, and his eyes snapped back up to her face like he’d been doing something he wasn’t supposed to, despite the fact that she’d literally told him she wanted him to. “What would you like to do?”

“Uh, I think, maybe, take you home and,” he was bright red, “absolutely rail you?”

Allura grinned and Matt felt his heart thump loudly. He got to show her his car, an old escape that made kinda funky noises on long trips but was a pride and joy for him nonetheless. Allura liked that he had named his car Florence, after the singer, because Florence was an actual bona fide goddess.

“She does have a certain quality to her, doesn’t she?” Allura agreed.

Because she was lovely and brilliant and prepared, Allura had condoms with her, and Matt could hardly believe this was all actually, really happening. He had an astoundingly beautiful woman in his apartment, about to have sex with him? Holy shit.

Her bra even matched her underwear.

“Matt,” Allura said, and alluring wasn’t enough to even begin to describe it. She sat perched on his bed, which he—thank all fuck—had actually made that morning. “Come here.”

Matt held frozen with his fly undone and pants halfway down his thighs, then kicked them off entirely and lurched over to the bed. Allura laughed and cradled his face in her hands, and then kissed him. She took the lead, getting his boxers off and rolling the condom on while she kissed him. Meanwhile, it was everything he could do just trying not to make a total tool out of himself, hands fumbling and inexperienced as they touched her actual real life thighs and hips and even her breasts—after she took his hands and moved them there.

“Wow,” Matt breathed, staring starstruck at his own two hands on her pretty, pretty tits. He remained starstruck even as she leaned forward and started kissing his neck, her own hands expertly maneuvering her panties off. Then her hands were on his hips, and then the world was tilting, and she was on her back and his knees were between her legs and holy fuck it was actually happening.

In his defense, he really did try to absolutely rail her. But he wasn’t the most athletic and far from the most experienced, and she ended up having to guide him a lot. He was also really, really focused on not blowing his load two seconds in, because fuck Allura was one sexy lady.

“Matt,” Allura gasped, her head thrown back and gorgeous neck exposed, breasts heaving with her chest, “Matt, I’m going to come soon.”

Achievement unlocked said the goblin that lived inside his brain. “What can I do?” Matt asked around his labored breathing. Then the world spun again and he got the wind gently knocked out of him as his back hit the mattress, Allura now straddling his waist.

“Just like this,” she moaned, and that was about all it took for Matt to orgasm himself, gasping with hands on her extraordinarily gorgeous thighs. She rode him hard as he came, hair bouncing and fingernails digging into his chest, and with a cry she came not long after, her wings unfurling in a sudden rush and her halo beaming with light.

Matt was just a tiny bit too orgasm-blitzed to fully process that in the moments it happened, and when she was done coming the wings snapped back in and the halo blinked out of sight.

“What was…” Matt gasped out, blinking in confusion. Allura tilted her head, hair spilling messily over her shoulder and a lock of it in her face, which she tucked behind her ear.

“Never had an orgasm before?” she asked teasingly.

“No, no, I know what that is, I meant…” Matt gestured to where the wings had been, then realized how absolutely silly it would sound to say out loud. “Nevermind. Did you know that when you come you look really, uh, angelic?”

Allura laughed and got up on shaking legs, then flopped down at Matt’s side. “Mmm, thank you,” she said warmly, cuddling in. He wrapped his arms around her eagerly, wanting to be held, but also, just in case, rubbing his hands over the skin of her back. Flawless, smooth skin, without any bumps except for her spine.

“Wow,” Matt said, unable to get the hallucination out of his brain, but also coming down from a very excellent orgasm.

“I agree,” Allura hummed, her own hands stroking idly through Matt’s long hair.

“So, can I have your phone number?” Matt asked hopefully, and Allura laughed brightly before telling him yes.

#Allura #Matt #Mallura #VLD #allurashipweek2019 #lemon #my writing #haro writes #me #haro #VT #nonbinary pidge ftw

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