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toplinetommy · 3 years

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Kill My Lonely Nights - Tyson Jost

a/n: after plotting and replotting this fic for over a month its finally here. my baby and definitely my most favorite thing ive ever written. hope everyone enjoys it as much as i do.

tagging @bqstqnbruin thanks for being my beta and for bouncing ideas around with me and also my fav josty whores 😇 @justjosty @hookingminor @farbutnevergone

Synopsis: tyson finally meets jt’s neighbor — and he’ll stick by her side through her ‘i’m a single and independent woman’ phase as long as jt doesn’t find out

songs: im so tired - lauv, troye sivan; better than heaven - slander; cherry on top - olmos, kyle reynolds

words: 20k+

warnings: alcohol, smut, unprotected sex

“Tyson, you know my neighbor right?”

You roll your eyes at JT’s way of introducing the two of you, because, no, you did not know the curly-headed brunette in front of you. You had seen him in passing a few times when he was over at JT’s but you never learned his name. In fact, the only thing you knew about him was that they were teammates and you got that from deductive reasoning since he was always dressed in some sort of Avalanche merch.

“I’m y/n,” you smile, sticking out your hand for the stranger to shake.

“Tyson,” the no longer nameless stranger responds, a quirky smile on his lips.

“It’s nice to finally put a name to the face,” you respond, your cheeks heating up as you look over him. He’s cute in that quirky way where his head’s a mess of curls, his eyes full of joy, and his shoulders filling out the grey Avs hoodie quite nicely.

“Same here,” Tyson agrees, shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets. You continued to gather the few things in the living room that were yours before finding your phone charger and giving JT a hug.

“I’ll see you when you get back from Chicago yeah?”

“Yep, have a good birthday!” JT cheers, from his spot on the couch.

With that you bid Tyson and JT a goodbye, choosing to wave at Tyson instead of showing an outright affection towards the stranger. The door shuts behind you as you walk a few feet down the carpeted hallway to your own door.

“Dude,” Tyson starts, turning his attention back on his buddy from where it was lingering on the now-closed door.

“No-”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say!” Tyson incredulously interrupts.

“You’re gonna tell me she’s hot because, yeah, anyone can see that. She’s going through this thing she’s been calling a ‘guy cleanse’,” JT explains, putting finger quotes around guy cleanse. Tyson brushes the comment aside, not bothering to ask any more questions. If he’d want to get to know you, he knows he’d have to do it without JT’s help. JT always had this thing of being overprotective over the women in his life, especially being a guy that grew up in hockey with three little sisters.

Another week or so passes before Tyson sees you again. It’s when he’s getting into the elevator after getting dinner with his JT, and you’re just getting home from what Tyson presumes is work and maybe even the liquor store with the purse and lunch box hanging in the crease of your elbow as well as the case of Truly’s in your other hand.

“Hey, it’s y/n, right?” Tyson says in lieu of a greeting. He holds the elevator open for you as you step out, thinking of ways to keep the conversation longer than a simple greeting.

“Yeah,” you smile, warmly at him. He can see that your hands are full as you try to shovel through your bag in search of your keys as you take another step towards your door towards the end of the hallway. “Well, uh, have a good night Tyson.”

Tyson watches as you turn away with a small smile, and suddenly he’s stumbling over his words, trying to make the moment last longer. He’s rarely ever seen you around, most times in passing in this very hallway and the occasional time JT talked to you on the phone when they were on the road. You didn’t go to games, you didn’t hang out with the team, and you were never over at JT’s when Tyson would show up.

But when he had officially met you the other week when you were leaving JT’s apartment, he was transfixed and curious about the girl JT always talked about but never brought around.

“Do you wanna come in for a drink?” You ask, nodding to the case in your hand. You’re asking as more of a common courtesy than anything else, but you can tell that he’s waiting for you to make the next move regarding this run-in with him. The peachiness of his cheeks and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets are proof of that.

“You sure?”

“Any friend of JT is a friend of mine,” you smile, opening your front door and gesturing for Tyson to go in before you.

“Yeah, okay,” Tyson smiles, taking another step towards you and reaching out for the box of Truly’s. “Let me take that for you.”

Tyson graciously takes the case from you and steps through the doorway of your apartment, suddenly losing any train of thought he once had now that he’s in an apartment he’s never been in. He sees the fridge across the way and decides he’ll just stick the drinks in there. There’s thankfully space in the fridge for them and he watches you shred your raincoat and heels by the door. “So, uh, how do you know JT? Like, I know you guys are neighbors but he’s always referring to you as his best friend. I honestly didn’t even know that you lived next to him until the other week.”

You laugh, thinking back to how you even met JT. It was nowhere near being a typical introduction between neighbors, it was honestly pretty far from that. “So, whenever he first moved here like two years ago, I was sitting in my car in the parking garage on the phone with my dad, and this car parks next to me and the driver gets out and completely dings my car. I’m talking a paint scratch that’s starting to rust now.”

“He’s pretty unaware of his space,” Tyson laughs, knowing all too well that his friend did something like that.

“And so, I get out of my car, and I confront him about it, and he apologizes and whatever, not a big deal. But then he gets off the elevator with me and I’m thinking this guy’s gotta be a creep since he’s barely talking to me but then he pulls out his keys and is unlocking the door next to mine, and now he bugs me all the time,” you smile, Tyson making space for you to go into the fridge he’s currently standing in front of.

“You see that picture frame over there?” you nod your head to the wall your TV is mounted on. Tyson walks over to it, inspecting it and noting that neither of the people in it are you or JT. “There’s paint missing behind it because when he was helping me mount my TV he hit the wall with the drill. He got me the frame to cover it but I still haven’t gotten around to putting a picture there.”

Tyson’s eyebrows quirk up, “and how long has it been there?”

“Uh, maybe a year?” you answer, your tone making it sound more like a question as you blush. Tyson only laughs at you, fully understanding how something like that can slip from your mind. You offer him a Truly at that, him not missing an opportunity to chirp you since your flavor of choice was lime, even though his was black cherry, which in your mind was the most basic flavor there was.

He sits across from you at the island while you stand opposite of him, leaning on the granite in front of you. He can’t get enough of your laughter, finding it’s something you do quite often as the two of you share stories. You, on the other hand, have to stop yourself from blushing since he doesn’t break eye contact with you once. It’s starting to get late and you still haven’t eaten dinner, so with an empty Truly in hand, Tyson is reluctantly getting up to head home to prepare for his early practice and flight tomorrow. He doesn’t want to impose on you any further, considering you were essentially strangers an hour ago.

You wave goodbye at him as he walks down the hallway to the elevator, a smile on your face as he nearly runs into Mr. Harter, the man that lives at the end of the hallway. You laugh as he apologizes profusely, something you amount to his Canadian upbringing.

Tyson curses himself over the next few days for not getting your number, and there’s no way in hell he’s asking JT for it. He doesn’t know how he’ll go about getting it, and the possibility of him running into you to get it is slim, with the fact that the Avs have a nine-day roadie on the upper East Coast. He figures he’ll try to ask JT more about you over the course of the trip, and then hopefully weasel his way into getting it.

It’s three days into the roadie and they’re sitting next to each other on the flight from Ottawa to Toronto. JT is busy on his iPad, and Tyson looks around him, seeing Cale and Gravy reading books, and G is passed out behind him. Tyson nudges JT’s shoulder with his, JT pulls out his AirPod and looks towards his buddy.

“So, y/n, eh?” He jumps right in, watching as JT rolls his eyes and moves to put his AirPod back in. “You said she doesn’t date?”

“Correct.”

“Why’s that? She seems like she wouldn’t have any issue in that department.”

“First off, that’s gross. Secondly, even if she was dating, you aren’t allowed to try anything,” Tyson chooses to ignore that part but continues to listen anyway. “She’s just like focused on herself, I don’t know. She knows her worth and knows what she deserves. She’s been single for as long as I’ve known her. It’s no bullshit with her, in every aspect of her life.” JT shrugs his shoulders as he talks. He’s not an expert on the topic because it’s not one you really talk about with him considering it’s just not really a huge part of your life.

Tyson hums along as he listens to JT talk, trying his best not to show why he’s even asking these questions in the first place. He takes what his friend says in stride, not being one to have gone through a phase like the one you’re going through. In fact, Tyson’s never been someone to say no to a date, fully taking advantage of the pro-athlete lifestyle he’s been living for years now. JT knows this, knows what it’s like to be 22, and all eyes on you.

He was there once, but he’s been with Sydney for over two years now. JT knows the locker room talk that goes on within hockey teams, he’s been living it his whole life. Yeah, the Denver room has been the best and the calmest when it comes to comments about guys’ dating lives, but the occasional whistle and chirp is made when one of the single guys has a story to share. The last thing he wants is to hear your name in one of those scenarios.

He doesn’t get your number during that road trip, can’t even find you on social media so he puts his efforts on pause. He even went through the list of people JT followed, your name not coming up once. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know your last name.

Soon January is ending and February is starting, the season kicking into high gear as the all-star breaks ends and the playoff push truly begins. Tyson still hasn’t seen you around other than the occasional run-in, and you honestly haven’t given him much thought since that night in late January. Your life has always been chaotic, but still in the most organized way, and you’ve barely seen JT with the way his game schedule is laid out. But the middle of February brings Sydney to town and brings too many parties while she’s around.

It’s at Andre’s place where you see Tyson again, warm pleasantries shared between the two of you. He’s a little confused as he watches you chat with almost everyone there, the weird feeling coming from the fact that most people filling the apartment are on the Avalanche roster. He wonders if you’ve already met most of them or if you’re just that outgoing.

Tyson finally makes his way over to you, two cans in hand as he offers you the one with green lettering with a smile.

“A lime White Claw? That’s the way to my heart,” you joke, placing your hand over your heart before taking his offering.

“I was asking around to see if there were any Truly’s,” Tyson laughs, waving his hand around. “But I hope the White Claw is okay.”

“A White Claw definitely isn’t as good as a Truly but it’s a close second, thank you.”

“Right!” Tyson agrees, “People think they all taste the same but there’s a clear hierarchy of which seltzers are better than others.” You laugh along with Tyson at his comment in complete agreement. You tell him your own tier list of seltzers, starting with Truly’s and ranking the Bud Light ones as the worst.

“I’ve only had a few of them, but I’ll take your word for it,” The laughter between the two of you dies down before JT finds you, saying he’s been looking for you for a little bit.

“It’s not my fault I’m hidden by all these huge men,” you roll your eyes, pointing around the room that’s filled with men all over six feet tall.

“Did you know your neighbor was a hard seltzer connoisseur?” Tyson asks with a quirk of his eyebrow, causing you to scoff. You were nowhere being a ‘connoisseur’ of sorts.

JT takes a sip of his drink, “She’s an alcohol connoisseur period, bud.” WIth that JT disappears to go find his girlfriend, leaving the two of you alone. Tyson’s face is filled with confusion at JT’s comment, not entirely sure what his comment even meant.

“I used to bartend in college,” you answer his silent question. “Which makes me JT’s personal bartender most nights.”

“Maybe I’ll have to get you to make me a drink sometime then,” Tyson suggests. It’s a little too forward for his liking but it just slips out, and you giggle at his attempt at flirting. His tan cheeks have a pink flush to them, and you’re sure it’s not from the alcohol since most people have only been here for an hour or so.

“C’mon,” you nod your head in the direction of the kitchen. Tyson silently follows you, weaving between the people and the furniture. “I can get you that drink right now.”

Once you make it to the kitchen you look around the counters, taking note of the different types of liquors laid out. Tyson watches you as your hands move around, picking up and setting down various bottles. When you’re satisfied with your concoction, you hand him a shot glass, one in your own hand to match his.

“It’s a shooter,” you inform him. He puts trust in you, clinging your glass with his own and bringing the glass to his lips as he tips his head back. Your eyes stay on him as his tongue pokes out to swipe the extra liquid off his lips before you realize you haven’t even taken yours yet. His eyes stay locked on you as you throw your own shot back, your eyes reconnecting when you set the glass on the counter next to you.

A shiver runs through you as his eyes watch your every move. You hadn’t noticed it with any of your other previous run-ins with him but he’s intimidating in that way where his presence is radiating that good kind of confidence. You watched him, unbeknownst to him, as he made his way around the room before ever making it to you.

“So what was that you just gave me?” He asks, crossing his ankles and leaning further on the counter behind him. You move to stand next to him, your shoulder brushing his cotton-covered bicep.

“It’s called a lemon drop shot, it’s just vodka and lemon juice so nothing too special,” you shrug, turning to look up at him. “Maybe I’ll get around to making you more drinks.”

Tyson smirks lightly at your comment, his hands gripping the counter behind him. He remembers what JT told him not too long ago about you, and how you’re someone that doesn’t put up with bullshit when it comes to relationships and his heart deflates a bit. He’d much rather keep talking to you and eventually kiss you, but he knows deep down that’s not what he wants with you either. He can tell from your brief encounters that this could be way more than just a few dates, so he holds back and instead bites his lip before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He passes it over to you, and you hesitate taking it as you look between the black phone and his brown eyes, “so we can plan a time for you to make me drinks.”

“Ah, I see, I see,” you quip back, taking the phone from his hands and opening a new message and typing in your phone number. You respond back to him on your phone, showing that you got the text and opening up the contact to save his information. “Should I put in some funny name for your contact or is Tyson good enough?”

Tyson laughs fully at that, his chest rumbling for a moment before he calms down and tells you his name is just fine for now, “but I won’t complain if you find a better name for me.” Tyson scratches the back of his head for a moment as he places his phone onto the counter next to him, trying to find the words to keep the conversation going.

You leave not too long after that, catching an Uber with JT and Sydney back to your place. Tyson stays near your side most of the night, giving you a full hug as you leave and a promise of texting you soon.

You see Tyson the next morning at brunch with JT and Sydney, his strong, muscular thighs touching yours in the small booth. You get some fancy french toast, Sydney eyeing you from where she sits across from you. She’s been a close friend of yours ever since JT introduced the two of you whenever she first visited. Her eyes keep flicking between you and Tyson and you give her a stern look, silently telling her to knock it off.

“So, y/n,” she starts, a smirk forming on her lips. “How’s the dating life?”

You scoff with a laugh at her question. She knows well enough how that aspect of your life is doing considering you text her on a pretty regular basis. You choose not to answer, the scoff you let out being enough.

“Besides, no guy is good enough for her, right?” JT asks, looking over at you continuing his girlfriend’s train of thought. His eyes glance over at Tyson sitting next to you and Tyson ignores the look his teammate gives him.

“You mean the idiots you always try to set me up with? The ones that don’t live in Denver?” You quip back with a raise of your eyebrows. It’s more of a joke than anything else, but Tyson doesn’t quite understand your tone and mannerisms yet.

His heartbeat speeds up momentarily, thinking that if you hadn’t had any interest in any of JT’s other friends, you definitely wouldn’t have an interest in him. Besides, he may live in Denver now, but that’s not even the whole year when you account for traveling and the offseason.

You miss it, but Tyson changes the subject anyways, which is something you’re grateful for. Brunch passes by and when the waitress comes back with two checks, you knit your eyebrows.

“Actually, could I have my own check? We aren’t together,” you stumble, cheeks heating up at the misinterpretation of yours and Tyson’s relationship.

Tyson takes the check from your outstretched hand, “it’s fine, I got it.”

He’s talking more to you than to the waitress as he smiles warmly at you. You thank him quickly, but not before saying you have enough cash to take care of the tip. He doesn’t argue, following the three of you out of the restaurant and to your car. The two of you linger a little further back than JT and Sydney, both of you reveling in the comfortable silence.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” You ask.

“Not really, I was probably gonna call my mom and maybe do my laundry,” Tyson answers.

“Do you want to come over and hang out instead? I’m just gonna third wheel the two of them but maybe we can find something to do that’s more interesting than laundry.”

Tyson laughs at the third wheeling comment you make, being all too familiar with being the third wheel around most of his friends. “Sure, yeah, I’ll just follow you all then?”

“That sounds good. I’ll see you in a few,” you say goodbye with a smile and a shy wave, hopping into the backseat of JT’s SUV.

Once you get home, Tyson’s knocking on your door a few minutes later with the same warm smile he seems to always have. He sheds his winter coat as he enters your apartment, throwing it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He notes the change in clothes, as you’re now wearing an olive green crewneck instead of the wrap top with flowy sleeves you were wearing at the restaurant a few moments prior.

“You a big reader?” He asks, picking up and inspecting the book that’s laid out on the kitchen island. The Power of Now, it reads on the cover. He flips through the first few pages and goes to the back cover to read the reviews.

“Sometimes, it depends on what it is, but I usually just go through phases where I read in all of my free time and then I won’t touch a book again for the next few months,” you admit with a small laugh. “That one’s really good so far though. It’s just about how to live more presently and in the moment.”

Tyson nods his head as he listens, his eyes on you as you speak, “Cale really likes reading this kind of stuff, I should tell him about it.”

“Which one is Cale, again?” You ask, mentally going through the Colorado roster.

This causes Tyson to laugh, “JT really doesn’t bring you around much, eh.”

You laugh along with him, “not really, but that’s on me sometimes. I go to bed too early for my own liking.”

Tyson’s confused as to why he’s never really seen you before at anything. Guys on the team are always bringing their friends around if they can. At first he thought he just always missed you, but he knows he wouldn’t miss someone as carefree and beautiful as you. Nevertheless, he’s glad he’s sitting in your kitchen right now, and to top it all off, he didn't even have to ask you to hang out first.

“Do you read at all?” You ask curiously. You really knew next to nothing about the man in front of you other than that he was Canadian, played hockey, and preferred Truly’s over White Claws (his favorite flavor was still to be unknown to you).

Tyson chokes out a laugh at your question, “No. When we travel I usually play random games with Sammy and he’s been teaching me French. I still don’t know much so don’t go asking me to say anything.”

“Duly noted,” you nod. You move to the pantry, looking for a few things as you continue to respond. “Like I said, my interest in reading comes in waves and you barely speaking French is better than me only knowing English.”

You continue rifling through your pantry, pulling out everything you know you need. You’ve just finished setting all of the dry ingredients you’d need to make brownies when Tyson asks you what the hell you’re doing.

“I was thinking we could make brownies,” you respond, opening your fridge and pulling out the milk, butter, and eggs. You hear the island chair scratch against the hardwood, indicating Tyson getting up.

“Wait a second,” Tyson says causing you to turn around with a confused look on your face. “Are these the brownies Comph always bringing around that his friend makes?”

“They very much are,” you chuckle. He compliments the baked good one more time before you’re putting him to work. The two of you move seamlessly through your small kitchen, both of you sharing smiles and stories to fill the time. There’s a moment where you see a certain glimmer in his eyes paired with a small smirk and you think he’s about to pull one of his infamous Jost pranks that JT was always telling you about. He doesn’t though, and instead just nudges your hip with his. It seems like you’re looking more at him more than focusing on the flexing of his forearms as he mixes the dry ingredients.

Once it’s time to mix the dry and wet ingredients, Tyson all but misses half the bowl, causing a good chunk of it to land on your crewneck and jeans. The brown powder covered the ‘Disney World’ logo across your chest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Tyson rushes out, holding back a laugh, because of course he would embarrass himself in front of you and mess up something as simple as that. You move to the sink, shaking off the loose contents into it to help alleviate any sort of mess.

“You’re fine, I promise,” you reassure, turning around to give him a smile. He smiles nervously back at you, not fully knowing your statement was genuine or if you were trying to spare his feelings. He glanced at your chest, trying to see the damage he had done before realizing he was staring directly at your chest and his cheeks flushed. You walked back over to where he was standing, giving him another smile as you began mixing everything together.

“Would you, uh, ever wanna grab dinner with me some time?” He asks, voice higher than normal as he speaks, his heart beating nervously for your answer. Your face falls as you hear the question and you slowly turn around to face the curly headed brunette. Tyson is a great guy, it’s obvious to everyone, and you’re not oblivious to the fact that there’s physical attraction between the two of you. It’s that Tyson is best friends with your best friend who also happens to be your neighbor.

You laugh nervously at the question, the question seemingly coming out of nowhere, before you respond, “Sure, it’s not like it’s a date or anything.”

You brush it off, even though you’re pretty sure he was explicitly asking you out on a date. You turn your focus back to the brownies, popping them in the oven before wandering down your hallway to change into something clean. As Tyson walks over to take a seat on the couch, he sees your retreating figure as you pull your sweatshirt over your head. He stops in his tracks momentarily, seeing your bare back, the skin between your shoulder blades covered by your lacy bralette. He blinks a few too many times as he shakes any thoughts from his head and continues his path to the couch.

Your guys’ friendship quickly develops after that. The two of you starting a snapchat streak and having a long string of text messages involving various TikTok’s and memes alongside the more serious stuff. You seem to be spending more time at JT’s place when Tyson is also there and soon enough Tyson’s leaving JT’s and going the few extra feet to your place instead of home like he says he’s doing.

It’s one of those rare nights where it’s the three of you at JT’s place and you’re all catching up on the latest episode of Hell’s Kitchen. You’re pretty sure JT cheated and watched the new episode already with how quiet he’s being and how absorbed he is in his phone.

“JT, did you already fucking watch this?” You ask, whipping your head to look at the ginger in question. He’s sitting across the room from you in what he claims as ‘his chair’ while you’re sharing the sectional with Tyson, your feet in his lap. “And you wonder why I never watch shows with you. Tyson and I are going to start watching it without you.”

Tyson chuckles at that, his thighs rumbling under your ankles, his hands coming to rest atop of your shins. JT scoffs at you, unaware of your two’s newfound friendship. To him, the only time you ever saw or even talked to Tyson was when he was also around. Besides, he didn’t need to know the ins and outs of every single thing you did in a day, even if Tyson was involved in a good portion of those things.

You let JT’s previous actions of watching your show ahead slide since the episode was finally wrapping up. JT goes back to the Hulu home screen with an exaggerated yawn followed by stretching his arms above his head. It’s then he turns to his two best friends, letting them know he’s going to start heading to bed and that the two of you are more than welcome to hang out for a little while longer. He doesn’t think much of his offering, but it’s one Tyson’s thankful for if it means he gets uninterrupted time with you that isn’t revolving around the team or drinking.

It’s then he remembers how he never found you on social media, something that had bewildered him in the moment but one he forgot about once he got your phone number and snapchat.

“So, this is gonna sound totally weird but do you have an Instagram?” He asks, infliction in his voice and ears turning pink at the question. He remembers how not too long ago he did some heavy duty deep dives into JT’s social media to see if he could find your name only to come up empty handed. Your stomach tightens and the thought of him looking for you, and you definitely don’t take it the weird way he’s insinuating.

“No, I don’t,” you respond, sitting up further in the corner of the couch, Tyson bravely holding onto your ankles. “Which definitely makes me the outlier of our generation. I had it for a while but then I kinda just got sick of it and how fake it was starting to get, so I deleted my account. I have not missed even once, too.”

He nods his head in understanding, he’s been there, especially with being a professional athlete. “I’ve been there. I deleted my twitter a while ago because every time I got on there some nobody would be in my notifications about how I was playing. I really didn’t need that, ya know? Like, I play hockey for a living and I’m very aware of when I’m underperforming. So, it was hard when I would get on my phone and see other people telling me the same things.”

Tyson’s fingers began to brush comfortably over your shins and ankles as he spoke, causing you to start slouching back into the couch.

“I’ve gone back and forth with deleting Instagram but I just can’t seem to make a decision. Besides, I only follow my friends and musicians I like.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone,” you agree with a hum. “The biggest plus is that it gets me off my phone and I’m more absorbed with the real world. It’s all in that book I was reading a while ago that you asked about.”

Tyson remembers that conversation, a smile falling on his lips as he hands rub higher and higher on your calf. The movements are causing you to yawn not a minute later, but you try hard to keep your eyes open to continue to hang out with Tyson. “You a big music guy then?”

Tyson scoffs with a small, playful grip on your leg, “I get the aux in the locker room, so I’d say so. Not a big deal.”

You laugh at his joking manner, snuggling deeper into JT’s couch. Tyson notices how sleepy you’re becoming and he gives your leg another squeeze.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home,” Tyson suggests as he slips from underneath you to his feet.

You chuckle at that, considering you're more than capable to walk the few feet from JT’s door to your own. Before you can respond saying just that, Tyson’s reaching his hand for yours to help you off the couch.

“My mom raised me to be a gentleman, so I’m walking you home even if it is down the hall.”

You accept his offer, the two of you walking in silence until you’re pushing your key into the lock. You turn back to Tyson once you’ve cracked your door open, wanting to take in the silent, all-too-relationship-like feeling this scenario is. Tyson’s eyes drift from where they’re focused on your eyes to your lips, before he’s scratching the back of his head, a sign of nervousness you’ve quickly caught on to.

“Goodnight, Tyson,” you smile softly, leaning up on your sock clad toes to wrap your arms around his neck and give him a hug. His arms wrap around your middle; his back bending over at an awkward angle to properly reach you. You breathe in his musky scent as his hands spread out over the small of your back. The scruffiness of his beard against the side of your face has you giggling as you pull away.

“Goodnight, y/n,” Tyson reciprocates your smile, walking a few steps backwards before finally turning around and heading to the elevator. Your eyes linger on his toned thighs and maybe even his butt under the cotton of his joggers as he walks the all too familiar way hockey players walk, before finally entering your apartment.

JT’s sitting on your couch this time around, rather than you sitting on his, a too large glass of wine perched in his hand as the two of you catch up. He’s been busy with morning skates and a string of back-to-backs with a road game sprinkled in the middle. It’s getting to be that part of the season where it’s ‘all gas, no breaks’ as he likes to say. They had an earlier than normal game today due to it being a national broadcast on a Sunday, so the two of you ordered take out from one of your usual spots and parked your asses on your couch for the night.

“I feel like we haven’t had best friend time in so long,” JT groans, sipping down the remnants of his wine before standing up for a refill.

“Not all of us can travel the continent on a regular basis,” you chirp with a laugh, one JT matches. The tv show murmurs in the background, it’s one you completely forgot about as JT relates stories and updates on his sisters to you.

“I still can’t believe Jesse graduates soon,” JT starts. “Like, soon when we go to Boston it won’t be the annual family trip since two of the kids are actually in the same city for a change.”

“But that’s so awesome for her, you have to remember that. How’s her season going?”

“They’re doing good, winning games and taking names, she’s really stepped into her captaincy role.” The smile on JT’s face is contagious, causing you to mirror it. You had only met his family a handful of times, only whenever they made the trip out to Denver every now and then. His sister’s, even if you didn’t talk to them regularly, were like your own at this point. JT loved to joke that you were the third sister he never wanted but still somehow ended up with. It was part of the reason he was always trying to set you up with his friends, because to him, if he already knew them, then he knew he trusted them with you. It was more of a joke when it first started over a year ago, but the guy’s he mentioned started to become more serious considerations on your end before you ended up always telling him no.

You were more than okay with being single, being independent, being a woman that never looked for male validation and instead lived life purely for yourself and the people you choose to include with you in that life. JT understood that more than anyone else, that’s why the thoughts you consistently had about Tyson were being shoved deep down inside of you in fear that JT would laugh at the idea and tell you not a chance in hell. It’s why those times you caught each other staring you never did anything about it, or how JT was still unbeknownst to the close friendship you started with him.

It’s why now there’s a silence between the two of you as you take a too-long sip of your wine, a way to stall before opening your mouth and getting JT’s opinion on all of this. You set your glass down on your thigh, your spare hand running along the stem of the glass as you start to speak, avoiding looking over at JT as you do so,

“You know how I don’t date or whatever,” you start, your lip caught between your teeth. You glance over at the redhead on the other couch, seeing him knit his eyebrows as he sets his phone down next to him.

“Yeah,” he draws out, confusion laced in his tone

“Well, I was thinking of maybe getting back out there or something,” you shrug your shoulders, unsure of how to really continue this conversation so you end up on the topic of Tyson being that someone you get back out there with.

“Did someone ask you out?” JT immediately asks with a shake of his head, wondering where all of this is coming from. His full attention is on you now and there’s no way to avoid his eyes as you respond.

“No, I was just thinking about it, I don’t know.”

“Did you, like, have someone in mind?” JT asks, the definitive knit in his forehead still there.

You purse your lips in thought. This would be the time to drop his teammate’s name you think to yourself. His name is heavy on your tongue as you take one more sip of your drink, “Tyson’s kinda cute.”

You say it simply, with a shrug in your shoulders, hoping the ease of your posture radiates towards JT. It doesn’t, just as you expect, a choked out cackle leaving his lips, before he says a harsh ‘no’. The comment deflates you, the knot in your stomach only tightening, mainly because you weren’t really asking him a question and just trying to get that thought out into the open for the first time. JT doesn’t read that as you respond back, telling him was just a thought anyways.

You drop it at that, thoughts running through your head of your close friendship with his teammate, one that’s very close to blurring that line between just friends and something more. It's a problem for another day you think, shoving the thought to the back of your mind as Tyson’s name flashes across your phone screen.

A few more weeks pass of Tyson and you hanging out at JT’s apartment, only for Tyson to follow you to your own apartment before he’d leave for the rink for his game. He slowly began going through his pre-game routine at your place, only to leave with JT under the guise that they would carpool together since his apartment building was on his way to Ball Arena.

Tyson’s cooking his pregame meal in your kitchen, something he had yet to do but when you had told him you had never eaten squash the other day, he made a point to make it his favorite way, even if it meant eating dinner at 4:30. His game day suit was hanging by his coat in your coat closet, you wouldn’t tell him but it was your favorite suit of his. The navy cashmere made the highlights in his dark brown hair pop out and was a nice contrast to his tan skin. He was taking the squash out of the oven, laughing as you made yet another comment on not knowing that was how a squash was cooked.

“What does a squash even taste like?” You ask, peering over the kitchen table to watch him as he places the pan onto the oven to cool down. The bright yellow and oranges of the fruit freak you out a bit, but the smell of garlic and parmesan cheese brings a smile to your face.

“It’s like earthy and nutty, I don’t know. I’m not a Food Network chef.”

The comment has you rolling your eyes with a laugh as you stand up from your chair to retrieve plates and silverware.

“What are you doing?” Tyson asks with a whip of his head as his eyes follow your movements.

You look at him quizzically, pausing your movements on your tippy toes as you reach for the dinner plates, “setting the table?”

“I can do that,” Tyson starts, reaching out for the plates in your hand and setting them on the counter in front of you. “I’m the one cooking.”

“Exactly,” you reason, “And this is my apartment so I know where everything is.”

“I’m wining and dining you, well minus the wine since I have a game.” Tyson shrugs, tending to the squash on the pan and the veggies surrounding it. “That reminds me, the guys are going out after the game, you should come.”

You move around the kitchen as he speaks, filling up two glasses of water to set on the table. He plates the food as he finishes speaking and sets them on the table. It looks colorful and delicious and you’re shocked he can cook something that seems so complicated, especially since you know JT can only cook a burger and some random pasta dish.

“Well, I am going to the game so I don’t see why not,” you finally answer. You hadn’t gone out in weeks it seemed like, mainly due to your earlier than normal mornings and that you were the only single one out of most of your friends. All of your coworkers lived with their partners and were usually the type to bail on a night out so they could stay home. The few single friends you did have lived on completely different schedules than you, so they were either getting home late from work which was around the same time you’d need to call it a night, or were like you and too worried about early mornings to do anything.

But it was a Thursday, and you had taken the weekend off so it was a perfect time to catch your first Avs game of the season, even if it was already a few days into March and the season was halfway over. The both of you eat your dinner with a few laughs, Tyson telling you about how he forced himself to learn to cook over the past two years of living by himself. He even shared a few horror stories of when he lived with JT and Kerf, giving you plenty of dirt to use as blackmail if necessary.

“Dinner was really good, thank you,” you acknowledge standing up and grabbing his plate from him.

“You liked the squash, eh?”

“It wasn’t too bad,” you reply playfully. He knew you liked it with how quickly you scarfed it down and the profuse compliments you offered him. As you clear off the dishes and load the dishwasher, Tyson disappears down the hall only to reappear dressed in his suit, save for the jacket and tie.

“Who are you sitting with tonight? I never asked.” Tyson speaks, making the job of tying his tie look easy as he’s not even looking in the mirror to do so.

“Oh, my coworker, Amelia, and her girlfriend, Gabby,” you respond, leaning back against the counter as you watch Tyson finish up with the details of his suit like putting his cufflinks on and checking his hair in the mirror by your front door.

For a reason Tyson knows too well but ignores, a weight falling off his shoulders as he hears you saying you’re not going with a potential date. But then again, he knows you’re not dating and you more than likely would’ve declined his offer to go out afterward if that were the case. Tyson checks his watch for the time, seeing it’s about time to knock on JT’s door to grab him.

“So, I’ll see you after the game, yeah?”

“Yep, I’ll meet you and JT down by the locker rooms so we can all head out together. Maybe I’ll finally get to meet the infamous Cale.”

The Avs scoot by with a tough division win, one that’s needed to put them in first place in the Central by two points. You’re standing in the hallway of the locker rooms among the other WAG’s that you don’t really recognize due to your lack of knowledge on who’s who. Your nose is buried deep in your phone as you shoot off a text to Amelia telling her to let you know when she gets home safely when you recognize Tyson’s familiar Canadian accent followed by JT’s booming laughter. The two of them reach you, both of them giving you quick hugs before walking to the parking garage.

“Who’s jersey you got on there?” Tyson asks with a nudge of his shoulder into yours. You look down at the 19 stitched into your shoulder with a smirk.

“Only the best Av to ever play the game,” you respond, to which JT rolls his eyes. Tyson’s look of confusion doesn’t change as you answer, still pretty keen to the fact that you’ve never really talked hockey with him besides the stories about practices he’d share with you. “Never told you I didn’t like hockey, just said I never went to games.”

“I’ve tried to get her one of my jerseys and she literally told me she’d return it,” JT interrupts before Tyson can respond. You open your mouth to chirp him back but before you can, JT is calling shotgun once Tyson’s car is in view.

The bar isn’t as packed as you thought it would be, given half of the Avalanche roster was occupying more than a few booths. Andre takes a seat across from where you’re sandwiched between JT and Tyson - a seating arrangement you’re not sure how you got in.

The first round of drinks slowly turns into the third, and you’re no longer squished between two bruly hockey players since JT has found a home at the pool table with Nate and Naz. You had finally met Cale, the blush on cheeks matching Tyson’s description of them. You shared book recommendations with one another while Tyson had wandered off to the bar. It’s then you learn that Tyson’s kind of taken him under his wing, despite the very small age gap and that they live in the same building. Your eyes catch him as he chats with the bartender and a dirty blonde that’s close to his height that you very much did not recognize.

She’s all legs and has an award winning smile from what you see from fifteen away. Tyson’s turned away from you, his back facing you, and if you could see his face filled with that smile that’s showing he’s just trying to be polite to the stranger.

It’s then that you start to fully allow yourself to notice not only the physical attraction you feel towards your new friend, but the emotional one as well. It’s not overwhelming by any means, but the pit in your stomach can only be described as jealousy — a feeling you don’t have much experience with.

You see two new glasses being set in front of them at the same time, assuming that Tyson had bought the stranger a drink. That pit in your stomach only tightens, the smile on your face from Cale’s story falling as you continue to watch them interact.

The pair only talk for a few minutes before the girl walks away, a defeated look on her face. With he departure, you make your way across the hardwood floor to meet him at the bar, nudging his side lightly as you mirrored his stance. He smiled as you greeted him, noting that this was the first time in hours he got you all to himself. You were just as outgoing as he and JT were, always butting into conversations when you had something to say.

“I never asked if you had fun at the game,” he asks, voice somehow still soft even in the loudness of the bar. His voice raises goosebumps on your arms, as you hum before responding.

“It was fun, definitely a good game, just a little too much third wheeling for my liking but I’ll take what I can get.”

The comment is a nod to the feeling Tyson knows all too well, one the two of you seem to always share funny stories about with a dramatic use of eye rolls. You ignore the fact that not even a few minutes prior you were plotting that girl’s death, too busy and entranced with Tyson’s presence.

The night continues to pass with just the two of you in your own little world. You find yourself up on your tiptoes, an arm resting on his muscular bicep as you lean up to speak into his ear. His lips move alongside your temple as he speaks, the scruff of his beard against your forehead causing you to giggle. You’re not even sure if JT or any of the other guys are even still around, but your bubble pops as JT calls your name. You turn your body towards the ginger, your hand on Tyson’s bicep not moving as he says that you two should find an Uber soon.

“Okay, yeah, sure. I’ll be out in a sec, Tyson was just telling me a story,” you let him know. JT knits his eyebrows at the comment but walks outside with a few of the other guys all heading home.

“How are you getting home?” You ask Tyson once you’re face to face with him again.

“Cale and I are gonna Uber back, too,” Tyson answers, his tongue swiping over his lips slowly. Your eyes watch his movement as time seems to slow down as the two of you keep your eyes focused on the others. His eyes are squintier than normal from the alcohol and you’re yours match his in that regard. You’re pretty sure he’s about to kiss you and for once, you’re actually going to let that person kiss you.

Tyson’s eyes flick behind you momentarily before you see his body semi-deflate. He steps away, your hand falling off his bicep for the first time in at least an hour as he picks up his blazer that’s draped over the stool next to him and nods towards the door.

“I think JT’s looking for you.”

Sure enough when you turn around, JT is in the doorway waving his phone in the air and pointing at it, silently telling you that the Uber is almost here. Your shoulders fall as the moment you were sure was about to happen is ruined. Tyson walks you out of the bar, into the brisk start of Spring air. You’re too busy thinking about how you most definitely would’ve let Tyson kiss you and next thing you know, your foot is slipping on the ice and you’re yelping in surprise.

Tyson catches your waist before you can even hit the cold pavement, and again, you’ve found yourself in a compromising position as Tyson’s face is mere inches from yours. You blink away the embarrassment as JT’s comment about your almost accident goes unnoticed by the both of you. You regather your stance, muttering a quiet thank you to the brunette before hugging him and waving goodbye with a soft smile.

“Dude,” Cale chastises, “You like her don’t you?”

The comment made by his building-mate has him stuttering over his words, trying to figure out an answer that’s not a straight up lie. Cale takes that as his answer, though, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh as the two find their Uber.

“Does JT know?”

“No, because nothing’s going to happen,” Tyson answers curtly as he slumps his shoulders in his seat. “JT told me I couldn't try anything and I’m going to try and respect that. Besides, she doesn’t date so it’s not like I have a real shot or anything.”

“I don’t know, man. She seemed to jump out of her seat and end our conversation when she saw you talking to that girl.”

Cale’s comment silences the two of them for the remainder of the ride back to their building. Tyson hadn’t really paid mind to the fact that the second that girl left, you had appeared and stayed by his side for the remainder of the night. He brushes it off, blaming his inebriated mind for the overthinking before asking Cale how they’ll get his car in the morning.

Tyson wakes up to his phone dinging with a string of texts from you, a smile on his face when sees your name across his screen.

y/n: not sure what you did to me last night but this is the most hungover ive been in forever y/n: thank god i dont have work y/n: jt is still sleeping so im thinking of ditching him to go get breakfast y/n: you in? Tyson: im down Tyson: do you think we could swing by to get my car from the bar too? was gonna have cale drive me but if you can that’d be great

Getting ready for breakfast feels all too real as you do your hair and pick out an outfit before finally brushing your teeth. You tap your fingers an obnoxious amount of times against your steering wheel as you drive to Tyson’s apartment, your lip stuck between your teeth as you softly sing along to the songs flowing through your speakers.

Sitting across from him in the diner feels a little bit suffocating, the events of last night replaying in your mind. The path your eyes follow tends to keep going to his lips before you realize what you’re doing and snapping them right back up to his eyes or to the coffee in your hand. Those lips you sure you were close to kissing last night. He orders some obnoxiously healthy omelette bowl with enough eggs and potatoes on it to feed a house of four, while you get classic french toast.

You don’t miss that opportunity to chirp him, the weight finally off your shoulders as you lighten the mood. Tyson never really caught onto your weirdness, thinking it was some side effect of your hangover.

“Is french toast your favorite food or something?” Tyson asks, mouth a little full as he finishes chewing. You knit your eyebrows in confusion, partly because yes, it is your favorite breakfast food, but why would he think that if he’s only ever seen you eat it right now in this very moment? He sees your confusion, answering your question before you can even ask it.

“You got french toast that one time we went out with JT and Sydney.”

“Oh, it is, actually,” it dawns on you then, even though that morning was over a month ago at this point. It’s sweet that he remembers that, your neck warming at his comment.

“It’s not a big deal,” Tyson shrugs, shoving another forkful of egg into his mouth. And shit, did you actually say that out loud to him? That misstep has your neck heating up even further as you take a large swig of your coffee, mainly so the large mug blocks your face from him.

“Besides,” Tyson starts with a heavy laugh. “You just about inhaled that from what I remember, so it has to be your favorite.”

You drop your jaw in shock from his very true accusation, a slight laugh coming out, “You’re a dick.”

“Hey, at least I’m a dick that paid for your meal,” Tyson acknowledges in a lighthearted tone. You smile at him at that, him sending you one right back. “And before you say you can pay for this one, this is that meal I promised you a while back when we made brownies.”

It dawns on you then, was this a date? Did you accidentally on purpose ask Tyson out on a date? Tyson can sense the wheels turning in your head and drops that topic, instead telling you all about this new artist he’s found on Spotify.

That day’s a turning point for your relationship with Tyson. You end up following him back to his place then, a strange sense of deja vu coming through. The rest of the day is spent shaking your respected hangovers on his couch, your feet perched on his lap, his body naturally leaning towards yours.

Your head’s full of what ifs as you drive the short way back to your apartment, thoughts surrounding the feelings you’ve been ignoring when it comes to why Tyson looks at you the way he does or why he’s always sending you Tik Tok’s about your newfound inside jokes. Your friendship with him is easy, he’s an easy guy to catch feelings for and an even easier guy to fully allow yourself to do that with.

The thought of your friendship with JT clouds your thoughts, though. Unsure of what you should even do considering how quickly he shot you down when all you said was that his friend was cute. You don’t think much of it, knowing that the feelings that are starting to show need to be reciprocated for you to even face that next set of problems.

Soon you’re catching yourself focusing on the number 17 jersey skating around the ice instead of 37 when you have the time to watch their games. Tyson’s eyes are the ones you’re always finding in a room and he’s the one always refilling your drink without a thought. He’s the one you text after a particularly rough day, and he does the same when the Avs snap their eight game winning record. He’s slowly taking that spot as your best friend over from his teammate, a spot you’re sure is slowly turning into more.

It’s another one of those nights where he’s the one you're constantly looking for. This time back at Andre’s apartment with the guys and few significant others as you celebrate yet another Avalanche playoff berth.

You’re drinking far less than the crowd surrounding you, fully buzzed on the atmosphere that is clinching the number one seed in the division with still so much time left in the season. Unlike the group of people that have the day off the next day, you have work, but the thought of missing this night for your two best friend’s wasn’t an option when Tyson texted you as soon as he made it to the locker room after the game was won. Tyson’s hand seems to never be empty, but you soon learn he’s been nursing the same beer since he got to Andre’s. There’s a heavy feeling of contentment washing over him as he celebrates his fourth straight playoff appearance, alongside setting a Central Division record for the fastest team to clinch.

The air between you two has that same fuzzy feeling it’s had for a few weeks now, ever since you had gone out to breakfast with him hungover. The high from the win still filling his veins, that same high radiating towards you as you continually find your way back to his side throughout the night.

Tyson catches you slipping out the door as the sun is just about finished setting and follows you a moment later. You’re leaning against the railing with your arms folded atop of it. It’s the easiest thing in the world for Tyson to step in behind you and place his hands on either side of yours, bracketing you against the cool metal.

The wind blows through your hair, causing you to push some strands back behind your ears as you breathe heavily with Tyson’s new presence.

“You doing alright out here?”’ Tyson asks, one of his laying to rest on top of yours, you fingers interlocking with his.

“Yeah, just wanted to take advantage of Andre’s view,” you respond. Andre’s place had everything, the view of downtown Denver, the suburbs stretching outside of the skyscrapers, but he also had the best view of the mountains you had seen from a complex downtown.

The silence continues between the two of you, the sound of the Denver traffic beneath you filling it out. Tyson’s chest moves behind you with a heavy breath before breaking that silence,

“I talked to my mom this morning.”

“Yeah? How is she?”

“She’s good, but, uh, I called her to tell her about this girl,” he trails off, his chest inflating behind you again as the nerves start to tighten in his stomach. You remain silent, there’s an unspoken understanding that this is something he’s been wanting to get off his chest, something that you too feel the weight of.

“I wanted to tell her about this girl and ask her for advice because it’s complicated since she’s best friends with my best friend who’s also my teammate and I didn’t know if I should put my feelings aside for the sake of my friendship or if I shouldn’t let my friend telling me I couldn’t ask her out stand in the way of my feelings for her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, the sudden knowledge of the weight his words have. His grip around you had tightened as he spoke, causing you to turn around in his arms slower than you would’ve liked to as your eyes find his. His hands move from the railing to rest on your hips, his grip a little tight yet still soft. Your fingers toy with the hem of his cotton t-shirt, one that accentuates his arms more than you’d like to admit.

You’re not naive, you know that this is that tipping point in your friendship that you’ve been avoiding, yet at the same time anxiously waiting for. He’s right there in front of you, all wide eyed with that playful little glimmer in his eyes and that smile that’s always plastered on his face when he’s with you. It’s the confidence in his smile as he speaks that contradicts the doubt in his eyes and the understanding he has where he knows he needs to take this all slow. He’s not just trying to win you over or get you to bed, he’s trying to show you that he’s what you deserve, that the feelings brewing inside your stomach are two sided.

All of those things are conveyed in the little things and how he hasn’t made any unwarranted moves on you and how he’s always reading the situation before trying anything.

It makes you truly let the feelings you have bubble to the surface as you open your mouth to finally respond, “I don’t think you should ignore your feelings.”

It comes out as a whisper, one where the breaths of air hit Tyson in the chin from how close you two are standing. Nothing else needs to be said, your heart racing in your chest at that first admittance of feelings. Tyson searches your eyes for any sense of doubt, making sure he’s interpreting your words correctly. His hand moves to the junction of your neck, his thumb brushing against the hollow of your cheek. Your hands trail up his sides, brushing the stray curl that’s fallen onto his forehead back in place. He leans into your touch, his nose softly brushing against yours as you close your eyes. His breath fans over your mouth and the hair on his upper lip tickles you before his lips are landing on yours. It’s slow and soft and full of fire as you kiss him back.

You pull apart breathless a few moments later, a smile on your face as you bite your lip. His smile is wider than yours, a sense of smugness behind it. His lips find their way to your forehead, placing a soft, lingering kiss there as he wraps his arms around your body and pulls you tightly to him. A few more heavy breaths are shared before his fingers trail back to your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip before pulling you in for another kiss.

His touches are welcome and the chill you felt earlier is gone with his presence, your stomach tightening in a million knots at the man standing before you. Everything he feels is portrayed in his soft eyes and those several moments over the past couple of months where it was just the two of you, getting to know one another much more than you thought you ever would with one of JT’s teammates. The space he gave you as he let you explain your fascination with living the life you did, one with no obsession with social media or what other people thought and one where you carefully curated the people you choose to surround yourself with.

Tyson had slowly worked his way into your heart, one that now had his name written all over it. You smile at the thought, still lost in chocolatey, brown eyes and the way he’s looking at you like the gorgeous view of the Smoky Mountains isn’t right behind you.

“We should go back inside,” you say, breaking the little bubble the two of you had just created. Tyson understands, knowing where the two of you were, knowing who’s just on the other side of the door. Neither of you make any moves to go back inside, and you bask in the cool weather, enjoying the other’s warmth before finally opening the door to the rowdiness that is a bunch of professional hockey players.

JT beckons for you when he sees you come back inside, too drunk to ask where you’ve been for the past fifteen minutes. He’s dragging you to the kitchen, begging you with his eyes to make the room a round of drinks. Tyson smiles at you from a few feet away, silently telling you he’ll find you eventually. He does, making his way to you when everyone’s drink needs are met, his presence causing your stomach to tighten even if he is standing a few feet away from you.

Both of you lay off the drinks for the rest of the night, already tipsy enough from your drinks earlier and in a silent agreement that there’s more to talk about between the two of you once the crowd thins and everyone's on their way home. JT disappears into thin air it seems like until he’s practically yelling that he’s called an Uber for you two.

“I think I’m actually gonna stay for a little longer,” you answer, eyes drifting over to where Tyson is talking with Cale and Andre. He sees you glance over at him, sending a smile right back your way causing you to blush before telling JT he’s fine to head home and that you’ll text him when you get home.

The room starts to clear out after that, Andre’s front door opening and closing every few minutes as Uber’s are called and before you know it you’re in the back of a Kia Sorento, laughing at the lie Tyson told Cale that led to him getting an Uber by himself and your hands tightly intertwined on your lap.

You find out a few months later that he didn’t lie, he just told him that he had finally gotten the nerve to kiss you.

The elevator ride up to his apartment is full of giggles, those giggles only continuing as he fumbles through unlocking his front door. He tells you to stop making fun of him under his breath, a blush spreading from the tips of his ears to his nose.

He’s pulling you inside once the door is unlocked, causing you to lose your balance from the pull. Your laughs quiet down as he stares down at you, that smile you're familiar with nowhere to be found as he licks his lips. He’s pulling you in with those big, brown eyes of his and then you’re kissing him wildly, barely a few feet into his home.

“We should talk about this,” you mutter against his lips, not fully wanting to break away from him. He’s connecting your lips before you can continue, too addicted to the feeling of finally having his lips on yours.

“What is there to talk about?”

“Us, what this is,” you respond between kisses.

Tyson pulls away this time, resting his forehead against yours. He knows the logistics of all of this needs to be worked out, but right now he doesn’t want to think about how he’s making out with JT’s neighbor or his inevitable murder if JT finds out before one of you can tell him.

“Let’s worry about the consequences tomorrow, because right now I can’t keep my hands off of you,” he reasons, dipping his head down to place his lips right below your jaw. “And if the way you’re kissing me is any sign, then I’d say we’re on the same page about how we feel.”

You moan as Tyson’s teeth nip at the skin, his tongue poking past his lips out onto your neck and goosebumps are popping up all along your skin.

You give into him then, too intoxicated in his warmth and the taste of Bud Light on his mouth. It’s a conversation for you in the morning when you’re both nursing your hangovers over a cup of coffee. Your lips move along his hungrily, his hands gripping your face before sliding down your sides and squeezing your ass through your jeans. You tug your fingers through the long curls behind his ears, him pushing you against the nearest wall with a thud and a rattle of a picture frame.

Your lips move along his softly, the passion and fire laced in it enough to cause a wave of electricity through your veins and down to in between your thighs. He’s towering over you with his big personality and his wide shoulders and you feel like you need to get impossibly closer to him as you pull him in by the fabric of his t-shirt. His hands fall to the wall on either side of your head.

“God, I’m never gonna stop kissing you,” Tyson huffs out, causing a quick chuckle to run through your body. It’s quick because as soon as the words are out of Tyson’s mouth, his lips are already back on yours.

“You’re gonna have to stop kissing me if you want to fuck me,” you mutter out, a sly smirk on your lips as you watch Tyson’s eyes grow darker at the insuination. The hands that were bracketing you against the wall slide down to your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip again before pushing past your lips. You keep your eyes on his as you suck on the digit, your tongue swirling around it. His resolve slips away from you for a moment, before his other hand drags down your side until his fingers push under your top, the warm fingers ghosting over the skin of your ribs.

His breath is heavy against you, the growing bulge causing his jeans to tighten around him. You’re feeling bold then, as you feel him against your stomach with his thumb still in your mouth and his hand tight around your jaw. He’s frozen in front of you as he watches your eyes, that stupid smirk finally wiped off his face as your hands move under his shirt, your nails scraping against the tight muscles. You hold back both a comment about his abs and a moan at the feeling, all the hard work he’s put into his body clearly paying off as you push his shirt up his chest and over his head.

Your nails drag back down his chest and torso before looping in the waistband of the boxers peeking out from his jeans. His thumb falls from your mouth, the wet digit leaving a trail of your saliva on your chin as you work on pulling his jeans down. His head tips back with a low groan as his member springs free and you sink down to your knees, his hand finding purchase on the back of your head while the other is used to brace himself against the wall.

Tyson sucks in a breath as your hand reaches out to grip the base of his cock, tugging softly a few times as you lick the tip. His mouth waters at the sight of your lips wrapping around the head, your eyes looking right back up at him. You hum around him as you swallow him down, the vibrations causing a groan to escape from Tyson’s mouth. He feels euphoric, even if you haven’t had your mouth on him for more than 60 seconds. His hips involuntarily thrust forward at the wet feeling your mouth gives as you hollow your cheeks around him.

Tyson continued to moan above you as you moved your mouth along him, both of your hands digging into the flesh of his thighs. Tyson’s hand is heavy on the back of your head, not using it to push you deeper onto him, but to ground him as he starts to see stars embarrassingly fast in his eyes.

He pulls you off him then, pulling you up to your feet to stand in front of him once again. There’s a dribble of saliva mixed with his pre-cum on your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb before pulling you in for another harsh kiss. He pushes the two of them to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss as he sheds your shirt and pushes you down onto his bed. You giggle again, the hunger in his eyes all too real as he crawls over your body until he’s hovering over you.

“You’re so fucking beautfiul,” he whispers into your ear, causing shivers to shoot down your body. He runs his hands along your bare sides up to your breasts as he kisses down your neck. His hands brush along your lace covered nipples, making you sharply inhale a breath and arch your back against him. He pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, his lips still nipping at the skin on your collarbone. He looks down at you again, a sensual look in his eyes that you mirror. His lips attach to one of your nipples, the other being tended to by his fingers as twists and pulls the bud between his thumb and forefinger.

Your hands find purchase in the curls atop his head, pulling at the strands as he breathes a huff of cool air onto your npple before switching to the other one. He makes his way down your body painfully slow, a trail of kisses being left down your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He tugs them off just as quickly as he stripped you from your shirt, his eyes locking on the sage green thong you’re wearing and the very obvious wet patch between your legs. He’s impatient from the brief blowjob you gave him and the fact that he’s been imaging this exact moment for far too long now. His fingers dip into the strap of your underwear, his eyes finding yours and asking if this is okay. You respond with a resounding yes as he pulls the underwear off of you.

His lips leave kisses along your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as his mouth finally makes his way to your center. His beard is rough against the skin of your thighs, a sensation only causing you to whine as he breathes over your clit.

“Tyson,” you whine, causing him to smirk before pressing his tongue to your entrance. The cool, wetness of his tongue has you catching your breath and fisting the sheets underneath you. Tyson moaned against you at the taste as he licked over you a few more times. His lips wrap around your clit, this time causing a full, throaty moan to release from your mouth. One of your hands found its way to his head, holding him impossibly closer to you, the other finding his hand as he interlocks your fingers together.

His tongue dives into your opening, fucking into you as his other arm wraps around your thigh so he can rub his thumb at your clit. His tongue licked around you entrance, alternating between that and fucking into you. His thumb stayed on your clit, rubbing circles hoping to get you to that tipping point, the one you felt nearing with every pass of his tongue over you. Your back arched off the bed, your hips pushing further into Tyson’s face as you felt your high near. Tyson continued at the same pace, pushing you over the edge as you moaned out his name.

He continued to lick softly at you, his thumb slowing down on your clit as he lifted his head up to kiss at your collarbone. The kisses he leaves along your inner thighs gives you time to catch your breathing, your chest still heaving from your orgasm. It’s short lived as his thumb on your clit slides down to your entrance, spreading your wetness around before pushing a finger into you.

His lips make their way back to your clit with the same smirk he had on his face a few minutes ago, wrapping his lips around the bud as he moves he added another finger. You clench down him at the feeling, moans and heavy breaths of air escaping your mouth as Tyson worked his fingers against your g-spot and his mouth worked over your clit. Your hand squeezes his, the pressure becoming too much so soon after your first orgasm. It doesn’t take long for you to groan out his name again as you clench down on his fingers, your second orgasm rushing through you.

He stays down there a moment longer, but you pull him up by his hair, just wanting his lips on yours and his body hovering over you. His beard is wet from both his spit and your juices, and it has you licking your lips and craning your neck upwards. You pull him in with both of your hands, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself on him.

The kiss is heavy, his hands running along your body trying to memorize every dip and curve, the heavy weight of his member on your hip. His curls tickled your forehead, the kiss turning soft as he splayed a hand on your cheek to pull you in tighter. The head of his dick brushed over your mound, a shiver running through you at the feelings, your hips bucking up towards his with a small whine.

You reach your hand down between your bodies to tug on him softly, a whine leaving Tyson’s lips, one that’s swallowed by your kisses. It’s unspoken between the two of you as pulls away from you, only to push your hand away from him and give himself a few tugs as he settles heavily between your thighs.

You share a look, one that’s gleeful and full of smiles as he licks his lips and slowly pushes into you. You moan and whimper at the feeling of him inside of you, your hands clawing at his shoulder blades to pull his body flush against your own.

“You good?” He asks, referring to if you’re ready for him to start moving.

“Yeah,” you whine, looking into his eyes smiling, “I’m good.”

There’s a pause as you answer, both of you understanding the double-meaning behind your answer. It’s more than just telling him you feel good physically, but that you feel more than that when he’s with you.

He leans in to kiss you again, starting a slow pace as he thrusts into you. He moaned out at how tight you were, how well you were taking him as he kissed you. He picked up his pace, thrusting into you harder and faster, with more purpose as he rested on his elbows above you, looking into your eyes. You always got lost in those eyes of his, as he hit your g-spot you tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering closed. They weren’t closed for long as Tyson grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him once again.

“I wanna look at you,” he muttered as he leaned back down to kiss you. Your moans filled the room as the layer of sweat started to thicken on your bodies, his chest rubbing against yours. He lifted your thigh and pushed it against your chest, the new angle causing the knots to tighten in your stomach as you felt you high nearing. Your lips found their way to his neck and down to the dips of his collarbone. Biting down into the flesh as you moan out again, Tyson’s pace quickening as he feels you clenching around him.

“I’m so close,” you moan out, Tyson hitting you deeply. He could feel himself getting close too, his hips starting to stutter as he moved inside of you. Your breasts bouncing as he pounds into you, your eyes screwing shut as your orgasm starts to wash over you. Tyson swallows your moans as he kisses you through your third orgasm.

His breaths are heavy as his orgasm comes soon after yours, spilling into you as he slows his pace down and gently lowers his body weight onto yours. You two stay like that for a few moments, catching your breaths and basking in that post-sex afterglow. He removes himself once you’ve both settled, a whimper leaving your mouth at the newfound emptiness. He disappears to his bathroom, coming right back with a washcloth as he cleans you up. You thank him as he runs the cool, wet cloth over the insides of your thighs, pulling him back for another quick kiss before he disappears into the bathroom once more.

When he gets back, he lays down next to you, pulling your body snug against his. His chest is warm and still a little sticky from the sweat. Your fingers draw aimless patterns along his bare chest, his lips leaving a soft kiss on your forehead and you feel the upturn of his lips when he pulls away. You smile up at him then, leaning up and puckering your lips, asking for a kiss. He obliges with a soft hum and rubs your arm gently before you’re falling asleep against him, a few drops of drool falling onto his chest.

The morning rolls around too quickly for your liking, the curls on Tyson’s head ticking the back of your neck. Neither of you are in a rush to move as he smiles against the bare skin of your back, a few kisses being placed there as you hum and hold his arms tighter to your torso. He’s up from bed moments later, a sweet kiss lingering on your lips as you watch his naked form emerge from bed and pull on a pair of sweats. Your eyes watch over the ripples of muscles between his shoulder blades, down his back and over his ass before he’s running around his apartment in search of your thong.

He remerges with it draped over his finger, a smirk on his lips before he flings it at you, causing a giggle to erupt from your stomach. You pull them on, a large t-shirt being tossed your way to drape over your shoulders. You follow him out to his kitchen then, a small pit in your stomach at the realization of the conversation that needs to be had, the small bubble you’re in at its popping point.

You jump onto his island counter, the coolness of the granite sending shivers down your bare legs, his back to you as he starts the coffee pot. He’s just in a pair of sweats, bright red lines on display on his back. You squeeze your legs together as you cross them, the actions of your late night antics running vividly through your mind.

He presses the warm mug into your hands, his now free hand pushing open your legs to step between them. He’s so close then, probably the closest you’ve really been to him with a sober brain. The heat from his torso radiates towards you, warming not only your skin but your insides as well as you smile at him. He’s still got that wide, goofy smile plastered on his face, the one you’ve grown to love and to look forward to seeing.

Tyson’s hands move to rest on the counter on either side of you, the close proximity between your faces causes you to set your mug down and move your hands to his shoulders.

“What’s going through your mind, pretty girl?” The new pet name has you mentally squealing, your chest tightening as your cheeks heat up.

“Just how last night I was so adamant to talk about everything, but now I’m not so sure I want to break our little bubble,” you start, the huff of breath air coming out softly as you avoid his eye contact, even if he is a few inches away from your face.

It’s hard to concentrate on relaying your feelings to him and fully opening up to a man for the first time in a long time with him standing right there in front of you, in all his shirtless glory — the defined lines of his pecs and abs, the veins protruding from his arms, and the few purple bruises you’d left on the dips of his collarbones. It’s always been hard to think straight around him, you realize, with the way his presence gives you a comforting buzz and that warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

Tyson’s quiet as he watches over you, he licks his lips in thought, a silent hum of agreement coming out. He’s in the exact same boat, the outcome of this conversation not one he’s too scared of, knowing that the way he feels is reciprocated, but rather what the next step is with the best friend you two share. He’s leaning closer into you, a small smile as he places another soft kiss on your lips. It’s one you get lost in, gentle and blissful as your lips move slowly against his. He pulls away first, something he wasn’t able to do last night, before finally being able to put his thoughts into words.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page with this. We’re taking a big risk doing this behind JT’s back and I want you to know, no matter what, the risk is worth it with you,” he starts, voice soft and still scratchy from the morning. “And I know you don’t date because you put yourself first and if that’s what you want to do then I’m okay with that, too.”

Your heart melts at the words, your hands cradling his face. Tyson’s always been better with words and feelings than you have over your short friendship with him. The metaphorical door is already wide open in front of you, it’s just a matter of taking that one more small step through it with Tyson, or shutting it and never turning back.

“I don’t date because most people don’t like having independent girls as their girlfriend’s. I put time into myself to be the best person I can be, not only for myself but for others and they don’t like that stuff,” you start to explain, your hands falling from his face to hold both of his hands. “I like you, a lot, Tys, and I want to be with you.”

He smiles wildly at that, the doubt draining from his eyes as he opens his mouth to respond.

You interrupt him though, with a huff of air as you continue speaking, “But JT’s my best friend and I don’t want to hurt him either.”

And Tyson fully understands where you’re coming from, because he’s been struggling with that for the past few months ever since he met you. He thinks back to that conversation on the plane all that time ago and how JT firmly told him to not try anything, but now as he really thinks about it, he’s not sure he meant it because of him and that it was more so because he cared for you and didn’t want to see you get hurt in general.

You can see in his eyes that same wide open door you’re thinking about, the one where you get to explore a relationship with the quirky, optimistic, competitive guy in front of you. The guy that matches your level of confidence as you, the guy that lets you be stubborn and lets you live out that stubbornness because he’s the most patient person you’ve ever met.

The decision’s easy as he stands in front of you, putting the ball in your court, your lip caught between your teeth. He’s waiting for you then, waiting for you to walk through that door or close it and walk out of his apartment. He’s hopeful, knowing that last night wasn’t a fluke and that all the kisses you’ve already shared are real and full of passion and those feelings you’ve been dancing around.

That’s when you give in, wrapping your legs around his torso and pulling him into you with that toothy smile of yours as you place your lips on his hungrily. It’s a kiss full of teeth as he smiles against you, his hands coming to cradle your face as you kiss. It’s much more addicting now that you’re sober and you fully agree with Tyson’s comment from last night about how he’s never going to want to stop kissing you.

You decide later that day that there’s no rush in telling JT, instead opting to see how things go between the two of you for a few weeks. Those two weeks are full of plenty of quality time, a coincidental home stand falling during that time meaning you get him to yourself before facing the reality that is how much he travels. You’re sure you can handle everything the new relationship can throw at you, the honeymoon phase lasting long as the two of you skirt around how you’ll tell JT whenever that time comes.

“I need to leave now if I want to leave for the rink and not see JT,” Tyson warns, prying away from your warm body in bed. You whined in response, wanting to have his warmth for just a little while longer. You let him escape from your grasp, only after asking for one too many kisses. You follow him out into your kitchen, watching him as he pulls on his shoes and finds his keys.

“You sure I can’t get you to stay for at least a cup of coffee?” You muse, giving it one more shot to spend time with him before your work week starts. You make your way to where he’s lingering in your entryway, looking extra cozy with his hood over his messy head of curls. You wrap your arms around his middle, slipping your hands under the cotton of his hoodie to feel his skin against yours.

He leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips, giggling when you follow him as he pulls away, “I really need to get going.”

“Fine,” you hum. “I’ll see you when you get back from Dallas?”

Tyson nods his head with a hum in answer, finally pulling open your front door to get to his car downstairs in the garage without running into JT. But luck isn’t on his side this morning and he gives you one more goodbye hug and kiss in the doorway before shutting the door behind him and coming face to face with a certain redheaded teammate a few feet down.

JT’s eyebrows are knitted as he takes his key out of the lock. His mouth opens a few times in confusion before any words come out. “What was that?”

Tyson doesn’t think he’s ever been at such a loss for words as he is right now. He looks between the door he just shut and his friend a few times, trying to wrap his brain around what this scene looks like. It’s not even 8:30 in the morning on Sunday, and to anyone, this looks like the start of a walk of shame.

“Uh, y/n and I were hanging out and we fell asleep so she let me sleep in her guest room,” Tyson lies. He hopes it’s convincing, his voice didn’t waver but his hands flailed around a little more than normal when he talks and he scratched his beard, something he always does when he’s nervous.

“I’m pretty sure I just saw you kiss her,” JT explains, voice stern as he completely turns to look at Tyson. “And you don’t just kiss people goodbye.”

Tyson stumbles over an explanation for that, no logical reason coming to mind.

“You were just kissing y/n!” JT exclaims, a rise in his voice as he starts to fill in the blanks. Now he’s starting to connect the dots of your tendency to bail on him on the nights you’d normally hang out and Tyson’s lack of interest in guys’ night or after game celebrations with the team. The giggling he would hear through the wall late at night, the girly squeals, and the few times he remembered hearing the bedpost hit against your shared wall a little too hard for his liking. “You just fucking kissed my best friend after I told you to not get involved with her!”

Tyson moves to close the distance between him and his best friend, but JT takes one back, effectively cancelling it out. Tyson’s opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out the best course of action for this premature conversation. The two of you had just figured everything out in the past few days, telling JT about your newfound relationship hadn’t even come up in conversation yet.

“How long has this been going on for?”

“Barely two weeks,” Tyson stutters out, watching as JT’s face fills with more anger. “Comph, just let me explain,” he tries again, but JT just shakes his head and heads for the doorway for the stairwell instead of the elevator. It’s a huge flight of stairs given that he lives on the 11th floor of the building. He wants to follow his friend, but knows that space is what he needs and instead presses the button for the elevator and gets in, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

When he meets up with him at the rink, JT’s still avoiding him which is hard considering their stalls are only separated by one other in the locker room. Cale hadn’t even made it to the rink yet, so someone wasn’t even there to put up a wall between the two. Gabe takes notice as he walks around the room after taping his ankles, his eyebrows knitting at the fact that Tyson, who’s normally cheery even this early in the morning and bugging JT, is putting on his pads and skates with his mouth shut.

It’s something Gabe puts in the back of his mind, just thinking that Tyson had a rough night or morning. It’s during morning skate that Gabe, and almost everyone else, notices something is off between the pair. JT doesn’t chirp him like normal when they take face-offs against one another, he’s not by his side in between drills, and JT sticks his stick out a little too far during a one-on-one, sending Tyson to the ice during a drill that no one should be falling during. Bednar thinks nothing of it, just telling Tyson to stay on his two feet.

Practice eventually ends but the silent treatment between the two continues. JT’s uncharacteristically quiet to everyone that talks to him, something clearly on his mind. Meanwhile Tyson’s nerves are causing him to not shut up as Cale shares a story about his rough commute this morning.

As Tyson and Cale quiet down, Gabe steps in, pointing between the two of them, “What’s up with you two today?”

“Nothing,” Tyson lies quickly, not wanting anyone else to get involved in this. Even if their captain is just trying to help, Tyson’s not sure there’s anything Gabe can say to help.

JT scoffs, tying his shoes before standing up, “He’s fucking my best friend.” Cale, who was taking him leisurely time with getting dressed suddenly stands up and crosses the room to where Gravy was, avoiding any possible conflict.

Gabe’s eyes pop out of his head as Tyson responds, “we’re not fucking.”

“So the banging into my wall last night wasn’t you?” JT asks in an accusatory tone.

“Well, we’re not like,” Tyson starts, gesturing his hands in front of his body in a way to finish that sentence, soon realizing he doesn’t want to add fuel to fire by saying he was in fact fucking his best friend last night. “It’s not just that, we’re together.”

Gabe, who thought this was probably a misunderstanding of one of Tyson’s pranks or even just JT not winning a stupid bet, is just as shocked as JT was a few hours agao when he saw two of his best friends kissing. The captain isn’t entirely sure of how to navigate this situation, one that hasn’t really happened in any of his locker rooms. He doesn’t have much else to say to the two of them other than to figure it out and that a girl shouldn’t get between two friends that are as close as they are.

With that, Tyson’s trying to apologize to JT, tell him that there’s more to the story but JT wants nothing of it, and is throwing his jacket on and running out the door. Everything in Tyson’s being wants to follow him back to his place and beg for him to hear him out, but instead he’s racing back to your place, ignoring the fact that he still has to pack for their quick road trip.

Tyson all about sprints up the 11 flights of stairs to your door, knocking on your door with urgency until the door swings open. You move to the side as you let him in, clearly seeing how frantic he is with his flushed cheeks and the excessive knocking.

“JT saw me leave this morning,” Tyson lets out, a little out of breath from his run up the stairs. Tyson’s waiting for you to respond but you’re still not getting it. “He saw me kiss you goodbye and then didn’t talk to me all practice then when Landy confronted us he was just like ‘Tyson’s fucking my best friend’ and I tried to explain but-”

“Tys,” you interrupt his rambling, taking a step forward to reach out to him. Your hands grab his in an attempt to ground him, your thumbs rubbing back and forth on the back of his hands. “It’ll be okay.”

“He literally tripped me in practice today!”

“That’s because he can be a petty asshole. He doesn’t hate you, he probably just feels betrayed because he didn't know any of this was going on.” You try to console him, pushing all of your anxieties and paranoia aside to deal with the panicking boy in front of you.

“Let me talk to him, you need to go home and pack for your road trip since I know you haven’t yet.”

“But,”

“I’ll come over right after and update you, I promise.”

WIth that, Tyson kisses you goodbye as you push him to the elevator with a promise that everything is going to be okay before giving yourself a pep talk and bursting into JT’s apartment next to yours.

He spots you before you can greet him and you can see quite a few different feelings crossing over his face.

“Oh, God, are you here to also tell me that you’re not just fucking my best friend, too?” JT scoffs, causing your heart to plummet into your ass. “I really don’t want to listen to any excuses you may have about this.”

“Stop being an asshole for just one second and let me explain,” you reprimand him, already over the fact that your so-called best friend won’t even hear you out. “How is this any different from the countless times you tried to set me up with your friends? Is this not the same thing?”

It’s a genuine question that shuts up JT, because really, it’s not much different in your eyes. For over a year now, JT’s been showing you pictures of buddies he has from back home or from college or even friends of friends that he’d think would suit you. You had always turned him down because to you, dating wasn’t something you wanted other people to really interfere with, even if some of his friends were young, successful, bachelor types.

“Because it’s Tyson,” JT answers simply with a shrug of his shoulders. You look at him, hands clenching at your sides with the vague and uninterested tone. He’s barely even looking at you as he tidies up his kitchen, something he always did when trying to fill silence.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?” You ask incredulously. “You’ve told me a million times he’s one of the best people you’ve ever met.” You bite your tongue from adding a comment about how he is one of the best people you’ve also met.

“The other guys weren’t professional athletes, it’s pretty simple from how I see it.”

“But you could set me up with your friends from Chicago and New York and Michigan but I find one of your friends here in Denver then it’s off limits? Because he plays a sport for a living? If that’s the case then I shouldn’t be friends with you either.” It’s a low blow, you know that, but it finally catches his attention as he drops the cloth he’s wiping the counter with. His eyes finally connect with yours and it’s then he finally notices how hurt you are by the lack of emotion in both his words and his body language. There are tears in your eyes as you look up at the ceiling to try and even your breathing.

“It's an honor for anyone to have a place in my life JT and that includes you,” you continue. “Tyson understands that. He understands that I'm my own person before anything else but he’s still there when I'm stubborn. I've been single for so long and I truly know what I want, what I deserve to feel and I get that with him.”

You often don’t get this deep with the red head, but his lack of wanting to understand you has you emotional as you think of all the benefits of being with Tyson. The few months of being his friend were a perfect build up to the past few weeks of it being more, of sharing a life with someone else.

“You know him better than most people and if you can honestly tell me he’s no good for me right now then I’ll end it,” you suggest, your heart beating fast as you wait for an answer. JT has come to be one of your best friends in your life, even if he is just your neighbor, and at this moment it’s hard to think of putting a guy between you. Even if that guy is the first guy you’ve really felt this way towards.

“I’m not gonna tell you that,” JT admits with a heavy sigh. He makes his way across the room to you before continuing. “He’s my best friend, too, and if there’s anyone that knows everything about both of you, it’s me. I guess I just felt like you were hiding a secret from me and we don’t do that, ya know? I just wish you could’ve told me.”

You laugh snidely at that, “Do you not remember like two months ago when I told you I thought Tyson was cute and you shot that down before I was even done talking?”

The wheels turn and the light bulb goes off in JT’s brain as he remembers that conversation from a while back, “I won’t confirm nor deny that I said that.”

The both of you laugh lightheartedly at that, pulling him in for a much needed hug, both of you apologizing to the other. The weight on your shoulders is liften as he pulls away, thankful for the fact that you have such an understanding person for a best friend.

“You want to watch an episode of Psych? I think we can fit one in before I have to leave.”

You contemplate it, knowing that a few miles away Tyson is in his apartment panicking as he waits for some sort of update from you. You know you need to tell him how your conversation just went, but something inside you is telling you that JT needs you to spend time with him to normalize everything.

“Sure,” you smile, walking over to his couch and laying on it long ways, forcing JT to sit by himself in his chair. You pull out your phone to text Tyson, smiling as you type out an explanation.

y/n: just finished talking to jt y/n: everything’s good but i think i need to just hang out with him to make him feel better about everything tyson: you sure? y/n: yes, ill call you when he leaves for the airport💚

Everything gets sorted out when you call Tyson an hour later, calming his nerves as you give him a detailed play-by-play of everything that was said between you and JT. The comfortable silence before you hang up is almost filled with him telling you he loves you, but he knows he needs to talk to JT first and needs to tell you in person, and not over the phone as he boards a flight.

The flight was filled with awkward air as most of the guys saw what happened with Tyson and JT in the locker room when practice ended that morning, and even if they weren’t there for that, they felt the tension between them. It’s not until a few hours later when Tyson’s doing his hair before the game when he hears a knock on his hotel door.

He swings the door open to see JT, his hands shoved in his short pockets as he stares right back at Tyson.

“Can we talk?”

“Uh, yeah,” he responds nervously, stepping out of the way to let his friend through the door. The two of them awkwardly stand a few feet away, that meme about two straight guys sitting six feet away in a hot tub because they’re not gay going through Tyson’s brain.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize about everything earlier. I’ll admit, I overreacted a bit and I shouldn’t have tripped you in practice. It was just a lot to take in, especially because I didn’t really know that you two were that close. And I feel like a bad friend now for not knowing that.”

JT’s apology is way more than what Tyson thought he would get from his friend. He knew yours and his conversation went well, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t scared JT was going to punch him or yell at him or literally anything that wasn’t an amicable conversation between two adults.

“It’s fine, man. It’s on us for keeping you in the dark on this one and I’m sorry for that. I think we barely knew what was going on until it was all happening,” Tyson starts to explain. He’s trying not to look at his feet, knowing that JT needs to see the feelings in his face, those feelings that are very much real to him.

“And it’s real for you? It’s not a game? Because I swear to God, Tyson.” JT darts, voice stern.

“God, no, this isn’t a game to me JT,” Tyson answers quickly, head shaking in disgust at the thought. “I’m not just trying to bag her and call it some accomplishment or whatever you think this is. If that was the case I wouldn’t even be having this conversation with you and you’d already hate me,” he shudders at those words, unable to ever think he could do any wrong to you. “You told me a while ago that it’s no bullshit with her and I know that because it isn’t for me either.”

JT takes a seat on the bed in the room as his friend speaks, taking it all in. It’s a lot for him to take in, but Tyson really is one of the best people he’s ever met and he has little to no doubt that he’s telling the truth about how he feels. If the tears brimming your eyes earlier in the day said anything, you feel the exact same way. The room is silent once Tyson is done talking, his nerves causing him to be quiet for once as JT figures out his next move.

“I hear one bad bad thing from y/n, then it’s over,” JT warns, Tyson nodding his head along in agreement. “And if the guys start talking about your sex life I will be cutting your dick off.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, now that that’s out of the way, how’d you get her to go for you? I’ve been trying to get her a guy for forever.”

“Easy, have you seen my charming smile?” Tyson jokes with that crooked smirk of his, happy to see that JT is already moving on from that heavy stuff and onto best friend stuff. JT rolls his eyes heavily at the joke, a light ‘shut up’ coming out as he laughs.

Tyson explains everything then, the same wide smile on his face he had when he scored his first hat trick. He tells JT about how he wined and dined you on more than one occasion, how he learned those little, obscure things about you that you caught you off guard whenever he remembered them, and most importantly, just spent uninterrupted time with you, getting to know the ins and outs of your life. To Tyson, getting you to open up to him was difficult yet still a tranquil thing to do. The latter severely outweighed the former, as the sense of serenity he felt with you would always overpower any of those harder moments.

The team returns to Denver two days later, a quick road trip to Dallas and St Louis in the books with the regular season ending within the week. You can see that it’s that time of the year on both JT and Tyson’s face, their eyes a little more sunken in with the back half push, even if they’ve already clinched the playoffs. There’s only a few more games left to round out March and the beginning of April, the guys’ still waiting on their round one opponent.

Tyson heads straight for your place when the plane touches down late Wednesday night. You’d talked to him every day for the past few days, but not being able to see him much after JT finding out caused a lot of anxiety for the both of you. The problem may be solved with that, but seeing the other would just give you that little extra push that this was the right thing to do.

Tyson enters your apartment quietly, dropping his backpack and suit jacket down onto the nearby couch as he navigates his way through your apartment in the dark. The light of your string lights in your bedroom illuminates the hallway, soft sounds coming from your phone as Tyson walks in on you laying on your side.

“Hey,” he gently greets with a smile, pausing in the doorway to admire you. You set your phone down, turning around to face the man leaning against the door frame.

You smile just as wide as he does, responding with just as gentle of a ‘hey’. That anxiety you felt over the course of the last few days instantly dissolving at the sight of the man in your doorway.

“Why’re you standing all the way over there?” You ask with a pout.

“I can’t just look at you?” Tyson laughs, making his way over to you slowly. He joins you in bed, crawling over you like he’s still not dressed in one of his expensive custom suits.

“Not when I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you complain with a giggle, the same pout still glued to your face. He places a quick kiss on your lips in response, giving into your silent ask while also erasing that puppy dog look from your face. You’d only officially been with Tyson a few weeks now, the butterflies still heavily present in your stomach everytime your lips meet his.

“Do you not have clothes to change into?” You ask, referring to the crisp white button down he’s still wearing. He nods his head no against yours,

“Only what’s dirty from the roadie. Besides, I plan on being naked here pretty soon,” he smirks playfully. The comment has you shoving him off you with a roll of your eyes, only causing him to laugh loudly at your reaction. You know he’s partly kidding, using that as an excuse to get up from bed to go to the bathroom.

When you emerge from the bathroom, he’s finally shed his clothes and is under your covers. He opens his arms for you to snuggle into him. You do, resting your head on his bicep as he wraps both of his arms back around you.

“I missed you,” you let out. “Because I didn’t know what was gonna happen when you got back with everything going on with JT.”

“I missed you, too, but I’ve always missed you when we left for road trips,” he responds, letting you in on a little secret that clues you in once again to how real this is and how long it’s truly been going on for. “He’s fine with everything, he just told me we can’t act too much like a couple around him.”

You chuckle at that because of course that was the part JT focused on when they talked. As you look up at him, your heart is full and your head still has that same fuzzy feeling it always has when you’re around him. With him you’ve never really felt lonely, something you often felt even when you were around people before him. Those love songs you once heard on the radio that annoyed you no longer do, and instead you welcome them when they play spontaneously in the car or at the bar and parties or even at Avalanche games.

The thoughts swimming around in your head have you swinging your leg over him, straddling his hips with his hands on your waist and yours on his ribs. That doe-eyed smile he has is focused on you, a grin spreading over your face at the way everything’s worked out with him. Your heart flutters as he gently squeezes your side, a small squeak coming out. He leans up on his elbows then, admiring the view he has of you. He slowly yet full-heartedly fell for you over the time he’s known you and you can see it in the way his gaze turns soft and as the quirkiness drops from his expression.

You’ve slowly fallen in love with the man underneath you, too, and you lean down to kiss him one more time. It’s slow like they always seem to be with him in scenarios like this, where it’s just the two of you and the sounds of your breathing.

The playoffs fly by quickly with the pace they’re winning at, a WAG jacket wrapped tightly around your shoulders to every game you make it to. A new one is shoved into your hands at the start of the Stanley Cup playoffs, Mel telling you it’s a special occasion that calls for a new jacket, even if it is just for a series and even though you’ve just barely broken in your first one.

You go into that offseason with your newly crowned Stanley Cup Champion of a boyfriend, flying out to Chicago over the summer for JT’s day with the cup and spending a whole week in St. Albert when its Tyson’s turn with it.

And that picture frame you never found a picture for that’s hanging up on your wall by your TV? It’s been occupied now with a photo of you sandwiched between JT and Tyson on the ice after Game 6 against the Tampa Bay Lightning, the Cup on the ice in front of the three of you, faces full of glee with confetti falling around you.

Plus One

The pitter patter of small feet running along the hardwood floors of the hallway, followed by a squeal of ‘daddy’ has you setting your glass down and following after her. Your daughter’s giggle is heard through the house, the familiar sound of your husband dropping his bags by the front door following soon after.

“What’re you still doing up, baby girl?” Tyson chastises the four year old as you round the corner to find the two of them still by the door, your daughter in Tyson’s arms as he gives her a kiss.

“Sage said she wouldn’t go to bed until daddy came home for story time,” you answer for Sage. She only giggles in response.

“How about you go get in bed and mommy and daddy will come tell you a story in a minute?” Tyson asks, playing with her little fingers.

“Okay daddy!” She agrees instantly, running all the way up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. The brown curls she got from Tyson bounce as she runs, your heart warming at the heavy resemblance she has to her father.

“How are you doing, baby?” Tyson hums as you give him the usual welcome home kiss, his hand coming to rest on your protruding stomach.

“Good, the back pain is much more manageable now, but I’m still going to the bathroom every hour it seems like,” you shrug as you answer. He’d been on the longest road trip of the season so far, one that means the season is almost over. You’d tried extremely hard this time around to get pregnant at the right time so your next child would arrive during the offseason and not in the middle of the conference finals like your first did a few years ago.

“Soon enough we’ll have her running and occupying all of Sage’s free time,” Tyson muses, the two of you making your way to your bedroom so he could change into comfier clothes. You smile at the thought of Sage finally having a little sister to play with and hopefully become best friends with.

When you don’t get to Sage’s room fast enough, she’s racing into yours and Tyson’s room and plopping down onto your spacious bed. You join her, Tyson following, knowing that she’d much rather be sandwiched between the two of you than in her tiny bed in her own room. She leans into her dad’s side, something she’s always done, but you don’t mind — you love seeing them get so close.

“Did you bring a book, sweetie?” You ask her, taming some of her curls.

“No, tell me the story of how you met daddy again,” she proposes, causing you and Tyson to share a look. It’s her favorite story, one she asks you to relay to her at least once a week, and the one she asks for the most when Tyson’s been gone.

The two of you tell the story to her anyway, taking turns as you tell her how upset Uncle JT was about the two of you dating, all the way to the jokes he made sure to make when he gave a speech at your wedding six years ago now.

#tyson jost imagine #alex writes #nhl imagine #hockey writing #when i post this i’ll be at work lmao i’m really posting it then dipping

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cazimagines · 3 years

Text

Try not to forget me

Synopsis: Anon request: Can we have a reader who slept with Zemo when they were younger, they were basically each other’s first times. Reader was brought to the mission and when Sam mentions Zemo she only limits herself to saying that she knows him assuming she knows him from civil war. At some point, Zemo mentions it to Sam and since he can’t contain himself he has to ask reader to be sure. Maybe some smut, like ‘I don’t remember you being this good’

Word count: 8.5k

Author’s note: Welp it took me a while but it's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am such a sucker for the trope of seeing someone you once dated years after not seeing them again. Like give me all of that. Also I changed a little bit of the request but not much.

Warnings: Gun shots, SMUT (for mature audiences), Fingering, Vaginal sex, Stripping

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Fingers fumbled with the clasp, the feeling of lips trailing up your thigh, sweet whispers in the air,

‘My princess, my everything’

His kisses on your neck, the desperation in his voice

‘I need you, all of you’

His fingers dug into your hips, his body moving like waves on top of you.

You call out his name to the night, losing yourself in the passion that consumed you.

Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging roughly which elicited a moan from his lips.

His eyes sparkled as he reached his first climax with you, ‘You’ll always be mine’

You woke up still with the taste of his lips upon your mouth. You felt the ghost of him linger on top of you, clinging to that long-ago memory.

But all things fade with time and the cold reality pulled you from the once pleasant dream drenched in sorrow. Sighing you pulled yourself off the made-up bed on the floor, already grabbing a hair tie to pull the bird’s nest of your hair out of your face. You hop over to where your prosthetic leg laid and strapped it onto your thigh.

Grabbing your phone you notice a few miss call from an old friend, calls you must have slept through. Pressing the number you hold it up to your ear as you wander around the apartment preparing for your day.

On the third ring, he picked up.

“Sam?” you ask

“Y/n! I wasn’t sure if I would hear back from you, it’s been a while”

“Yeah, things have been keeping me busy. It’s not like how it was when we were in the army”

You could hear him chuckle down the line, “It’s strange, I would have thought my time in the army would have been the craziest part of my life, but it’s hard to beat all the stories I have of aliens”

“At least you have stories to tell, what do I have? I served for a few years as a new American citizen, almost died a few times till one day I got shot in the leg”

“I don’t know losing your leg is one hell of a story, but speaking of almost losing your life. You remember that time I was able to pull you away from a landmine and you told me, ‘oh Sam thank you so much, I owe you so much’” Sam says down the line in a squeaky voice

“Since when have I ever spoken like that Sam? And why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like where this is going”

“Well that’s because it is time for me to cash in that favour”

That’s how you found yourself arriving at an airport, searching around to find Sam. As you walked around the corner you could make out what seemed to be three figures in the distance. As you got nearer one of them noticed you, and started waving exaggeratingly making you chuckle.

You finally reach him as Sam pulls you into a firm hug. “It’s good to see you again y/n,” he says as you pull away.

“Yes, after all these years of avoiding me” you quip making him laugh

“You know I’d never avoid you! It’s you who has always found an excuse to get out of meeting up with old friends”

“Well I’m here now”

“Speaking of old friends, let me introduce to you this man, 106 years old, dermatologists hate him”

The man Sam referred to now stepped forward, holding out his hand, “Hi, I’m Bucky” he says, smiling slightly as you shake his hand.

“Y/n, you look good for your age”

“He moisturises” Sam buts in making Bucky send him a look, “It’s complicated” he mutters and you nod.

“I met Steve once, I understand,” you tell him, making his eyes light up at the mention of his old friend.

“Super soldier serum, the ability to be almost immortal, another reason as to why we have all gathered here to prevent it”

A shiver ran through your spine as you heard that long ago accent which you had removed from your voice. You focus on the man behind Sam, someone you should have noticed when you first appeared.

It had been over twenty years since you had last seen him yet you could still recognise the way his lips twitched up at the sides but dipped in the middle, the softness of his warm brown eyes, and the slight angular twist his eyebrows had. His hair was more well kept than when you had last seen him. Then he was still going through his rebellious phase, letting his hair grow unkempt but now he had a sense of refinement about him. He knew he was ageing like fine wine and now instead of trying to rebel from the prestigious life he had like when you knew him, he lavished in it, enjoying the money that was of so easy access to him and spent it on all the finer luxuries of life.

“Y/n, this is Zemo. You might remember seeing him on the news, he’s the one who framed Bucky”

You knew him more than that, more than any of them could ever know him. The dream from this morning swarmed your thoughts again, taunting you as if your brain knew what was to come.

Sokovia had been your home country, a place you had longed to forget, leave dead. Zemo, Helmut, was your childhood friend. You couldn’t remember the time when you first met as it felt like he had always been in your life. Everything you two did, you did together. Attending the same schools, going around to each other’s houses, exploring the wildness together. You two were closer than siblings. Your family had nowhere as near the same money as Zemo’s family had, yet that didn’t seem to matter, at least not when you were children. It was no surprise to people when eventually you two started dating. There had been bets on how long it would take for Zemo to gather the courage to ask you out. You and Zemo had been each other’s firsts, first partner, first kiss, first making love, which is where your dream had come from. It was cringy to say it but you felt like you loved him with every inch of your soul, and you knew Zemo was just as dedicated to you.

That’s why the break-up was so messy.

You were the one who called it. You had to. Zemo might have been blind to what it meant to be a Baron at that time but you weren’t. His parents allowed him to have his little indulges, allowed you two to be friends, to date. But at the end of the day, he would always be from the higher class and your family from the lower class. They would of never let you two marry so you had to call off the relationship before you got too deep, to save yourself some pain. You’d hoped that you two could still be friends, though it would have hurt, you still wanted to be around him but that was never meant to be.

At first, he didn’t believe you, he laughed it off as a good joke till he realised you were being serious. Then was the confusion, he wouldn’t let you leave. He needed to know what he did wrong, what could have happened for you to want to break up with him. Then was the obsession. He wouldn’t leave you alone, turning up to your house every day to beg for another chance, following you around trying to pick the relationship back up, threatening any guy that went near you. Then the heartbreak when he finally accepted it was over. He didn’t leave his house for months, you heard rumours he drank himself to sleep most nights, till one time at the dead of the night you found him pounding on your door, shouting to let him in. He was pissed and crying, imploring at you to give him a second chance, begging for you to tell him what he could do to get back with you. He would do anything, give you all his money, abandon his family and run away with you. You helped him back home and told him to leave you alone. And to give it to him he did because then came the anger. You would see him outside and he would pretend he didn’t even know who you were. You’d walk past and accidentally hit shoulders and he shouted at you to watch where you were going. Soon he would be seen with lots of different women, taking them to all the places he took you, dancing at parties. Whenever you looked over to them they were making out and it pained you deeply for what you had to give up. Eventually, you ran away. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself seeing Zemo move on with someone else while you were still suffering on the inside, not just for losing the boy you love but the person who had been your best friend for as long as you could remember.

You left Sokovia to live in America, completely ridding yourself of your whole past identity. There you decided to enlist in the Army which is where you had met Sam, served with him for a few years till you were forced to retire early due to losing your leg. You checked up on Zemo every once in a while, it wasn’t too hard with the Sokovian news constantly obsessing over him. He married the woman he moved onto, the one you always saw making out with him. You suppose he truly must have loved her because it was your birthday when his son was born. While he celebrated the happiest day of his life you spent the day at the bottom of a bottle drinking away the loneliness. You still remember the moment you found out what had happened to Sokovia. You hadn’t been back there in years but it was still your home, where you had all of your fond memories, now all gone.

You didn’t see anything in the news about Zemo after that, he and his family completely vanished so you had to assume the worst. Till you finally saw him on the news. It was hardly like the boy you once knew. The Zemo you knew was kind, empathetic, caring, beautiful in every way he could be yet the man you saw there was a murderer, cold-hearted, reckless. What had happened to the boy you once knew?

You could make guesses, his family was nowhere in sight and you could only imagine how losing the woman you love and your child could hurt you. You hated imagining all the pain Zemo has gone through.

“Yes, I remember seeing him on the news,” you tell Sam. Both you and Zemo stared at each other, your eyes unwavering.

He knew who you were. He knew from the moment you turned around that corner. As he watched you warmly greet Sam and shake hands with Bucky. He watched the person he never thought he would see again stand right in front of him, not even noticing him.

But now you stood there, staring him down. Both of you almost speaking through your eyes. Would the other one bring up the past? Try to acknowledge all that has happened between you or is that dead, left forgotten. Will you two pretend to have never met before, letting years of memories fade.

Zemo was first to speak.

“I see my reputation isn’t too favourable”

“That’s what you get for blowing up the UN,” you say scowling at him as you cross your arms

Zemo opens his mouth to say something but Sam gets here first, “Y/n served in the Army with me so you better be careful with what you say Zemo”

Zemo’s eyes then flicker back to you tilting his head, like he always used to do, in interest.

“Why is he even here?” you ask, finally pulling your eyes away from him to Sam and Bucky

Sam turns to Bucky with a plastered on a fake smile, “Why don’t you explain Bucky”

Bucky sighs as he glances over to you, “As Sam mentioned to you on the call we are trying to track down this group of super-soldiers called the Flag Smashers. We need Zemo here to help us track down where they got the serum and help us so no one else becomes a super-soldier”

“And you trust him?” you scoff, glaring back to Zemo who just smirked at you

“We have no other choice” Bucky mutters, scowling over at Zemo

“I can assure you, I won’t do anything to betray your trust. For once all of our goals are aligned that it would do us no good to go against each other.”

“I’ll hold judgment till later,” you reply bitterly.

Swifty Zemo swings on the heels of his feet, turning around to start walking away, obviously expecting all of you to follow him. Sighing in annoyance you trail after him.

As you had predicted both you and Zemo were pretending to not know each other, perhaps for the sake of the mission or perhaps for the sake of your well beings. You’re not sure if you could cope even acknowledging the past you two had. He’d been the person you had been closest to, someone you shared all your secrets, all your thoughts and feelings with. Someone who you would have taken a bullet for in the blink of an eye and to suddenly lose all of that, it wrecked you. You had finally managed to build yourself up again, to try and move on and then he comes straight back into your life. It’s as if there is some strange omnipotent god up there and it loved to torment every waking moment of your life.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asks and you all catch up with Zemo and see him walking towards what you assumed was his private aeroplane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam, my family was royalty till your friends blew up my country”

There was a slight change of tone for when he said ‘my’ not enough for Sam and Bucky to pay attention to it but enough for you to feel the slight twist in your heart as you thought back to the country that used to be yours, long ago.

As you got closer you observed a man standing by the plane, ready to welcome Zemo aboard and you felt your heart stop for a moment. Oeznik. The man had aged since you last saw him, he had fallen to the tolling of time but he still had those warm, caring eyes.

Memories swept over you of your childhood as you observed him. He has always been Zemo’s assistant, hired by Zemo’s parents when they were much younger. You could remember times when you and Zemo would be running down the corridors, not where you were supposed to be and Oeznik would find you two, not telling you off but smiling at you two, saying how Zemo’s parents were looking for him. He would sneak you two Turkish delights even if it was only an hour before dinner. Anywhere you two wanted to go he would drive you there. Whenever you slept over he would prepare your favourite meals, making sure everything was just how you liked in the room you would stay in. He was almost like another father figure to you and Zemo.

And now there he was, greeting Zemo. Zemo kissed him on the cheeks fondly before heading inside. Sam and Bucky both follow up but you take a moment to turn to look at him.

“Oeznik” you whisper

He smiles warmly down at you, placing his hand on the side of your arm. “It’s good to see you again madam”

You nod your head, unable to say anymore without letting your emotions get the better of you so you choose to head inside.

You could feel his eyes on you as you enter. You glance up to him and you know he knows why you took a little longer to get onto the plane. It was that knowing look in his eye, the slight twinkle of amusement but also sadness.

You frown realising you’d have to take a seat opposite Zemo, Sam and Bucky already choosing to sit on the other side, showing their dislike for him. You freeze for just a moment making Zemo gesture to the seat in front of him, smirking as he tilts his head. You huff, not bothering to hide your displeasure, taking the seat in front of him but refusing to even look at him.

A few minutes later Zemo chuckles as Oeznik brings out two drinks, a glass of champagne which he offers to Zemo, and a glass of rum which he offers to you. You’re favourite drink. After all this time he still remembered.

You kindly thanked Oeznik, taking the glass as you avoid the confused eyes of Sam who was wondering why you got a drink and he didn’t and the eyes of Zemo, which held an emotion you couldn’t quite recognise.

“The food is out but I will see if there is some good food in a gallery,” he tells Zemo and starts to turn away but then Zemo speaks.

“If it doesn’t pass the food test, give it to them,” he says, speaking in sokovian and gesturing to Sam and Bucky.

You weren’t prepared for the surge of pain in your heart as you heard Zemo use the language of your people. Though it had been over twenty years since you last heard it, you could still remember it perfectly.

Oeznik laughs, “It’s good to have you back sir,” he says, then nods to you before leaving again. Zemo smiles at Sam and Bucky, enjoying the notion of how they didn’t know what he said, before his eyes swiftly turn back to you, knowing you know exactly what he said.

He takes a swing of his drink before speaking again, “It’s kind of him to remember your go-to drink” he says in Sokovian.

And there it was. The first acknowledgement of the past between you two. Your eyes burn into his head as you realise just what he was doing. It was a test. He spoke in Sokovian for just you to understand, seeing if you were to take the bait and talk back in Sokovian. He wanted to see if you were willing to acknowledge the past between you two as well.

But Sam and Bucky had no idea where you were from. As far as they knew from your accent you were American and you planned to keep that secret. You weren’t going to play in Zemo’s little game, you refused to take your turn. Instead, ignoring what he had said to stare at the ground.

He waits for a few moments before accepting you weren’t going to reply. Sighing he turns to Sam and Bucky.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell” he starts “Oh, that’s right, you do” he then carries on, taunting them. If he can’t mess with you then he’ll mess with them.

“Why don’t you tell us about where you are going” Sam replies, ignoring Zemo’s attempt at taunting.

Zemo then instead turns to the book in his hand, thumbing through it. “Sorry, I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” he asks turning to Bucky

Instantly Bucky was out of his seat, his hand around Zemo’s throat pulling him back as he leans in towards his face.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you” he whispers

Zemo nods as Bucky lets him go, letting out a slight breath he had been holding in. Bucky glares as Zemo has he takes his seat again.

“I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“But you’re not sorry” you abruptly say, making all eyes turn to you. “Ever since we’ve sat down you’ve been taunting us, trying to stir up trouble. Soon your annoyance will outweigh any use you have for us”

“I’m sorry if I have caused you any offence, Princess, it is never my intention to upset any of you”

But it was. It fucking was. Because he knew just how much pain that nickname brought to your heart. Princess. That’s what he had always referred to you as when you dated. In his eyes, you were a princess, his princess. You clench your jaw, trying to stop the tears that swelled in your eyes. Something Zemo picked up on and himself felt pained seeing your reaction.

“Don’t call her Princess. Her name is y/n” Sam says, glaring at Zemo.

“My apologies, it was my fault to refer to your girl like that”

Instantly both yours and Sam’s eyes widen at his words.

“We’re not, that’s not-” Sam starts to say, fumbling with his words

“We’re just friends” you but in, glaring at Zemo for you knew why he said that.

“Y-yeah” Sam replies, looking between you and Zemo as you stare at each other. Zemo tilts his head slightly, the edge of his lips twitching up.

“I see”

“Now perhaps you could stop taunting us, Zemo, and answer Sam’s original question about where the hell we are going”

If you had blinked you would have missed it but just for a split second, as his last name fell from your lips, you could see him flinch. These days everyone referred to him by his last name, never his first name. And although in the past you had always called him by his first name, you, like them, were using his last name. That hurt more than he thought it would.

“I’m afraid I can’t say just yet, but all will be relieved in due time’

You just groan, rolling your eyes and then choosing to stare out the window trying to forget all about the man that sat in front of you.

Hoping to alleviate the conversation Sam nods to the book Bucky took back from Zemo.

“I’ve seen that book, it’s Steve’s book for when he came out of the ice. I told him about trouble man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What did you think?”

“I like 40’s music so…” Bucky grumpily replies

“You didn’t like it!?” Sam exclaims leaning forward

“I liked it”

“It’s a masterpiece James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African American experience” Zemo buts in, speaking with his hands as he looks over to Bucky

Sams’s eyes face moves from looking at Bucky, to looking at Zemo then back to Bucky.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody likes Marvin Gaye”

Inside your head, you scoff at Zemo as he talked as if he was sophisticated with music, ‘like you didn’t listen to Nirvana all the time’ you thought. From that point you ignored what they were saying, sipping your drink as you stare out the window. Today had taken a complete turn from what you ever could have imagined it would have turned out to be. And little did you know it was about to get a whole lot messier.

“No fucking way. You can’t make me do that”

“You have to if you want to blend in for the mission” Zemo explains

“She can blend in, in many other ways, she doesn’t have to pretend to be your partner,” Sam says arguing for you

“They will be suspicious of her though and it could risk the whole mission but if she was my partner they wouldn’t be suspicious”

“He’s right y/n” Bucky adds, “I don’t want to be doing this either but if we want to find out where the super-soldier serum has come from we need to”

Zemo nods to Bucky in thanks and then looks to you, the corner of his lip twitching up in amusement that Bucky was backing him up and seeing your anger.

He was deliberately trying to antagonise you. Making you pretend to be his partner for the mission, was his way to get back at you for the pain you caused him when you broke things off. You didn’t think you could cope with having to pretend to be his partner for it, it would just bring up all the pain of what had been lost between you two, what you had to let go of. But they were right. You had to do it for the sake of the mission. If Bucky could pretend to the winter soldier again for the mission the least you could do was this.

“Are you seriously taking his side Bucky, if she doesn’t want to be that then-” Sam starts to argue but you cut him off.

“It’s okay Sam, Bucky’s right I need to do it”

Sam opens his mouth in surprise and then moves over to stand in front of you, placing his hand on your shoulder. “No you don’t y/n, don’t listen to them”

You place your hand over Sam’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing it slightly. “I’ll be okay with it Sam. It’s not like I’d be dating him”

Your eyes flicker to Zemo who had been glaring at Sam now turned his eyes to you, his lips almost twitching into a frown but he stops them.

“I won’t wear that dress though,” you say, your eyes looking down to the short dress Zemo held in his arms.

He opens his mouth to argue against that as well but you stop him, “No Zemo, I won’t be wearing that, that is final”

He bites back his words, smacking his lips together as he nods, “If that is what you wish”

You weren’t ashamed of your prosthetic leg. It was a reminder to you for all you had given to people. But you weren’t about to walk around Madripoor with it being showed off to everyone. And a part of you wasn’t ready for Zemo to see you with it, though you don’t know why.

You hadn’t been to Madripoor before but it didn’t surprise you that Zemo knew the place well. It looked like the shady place you would find him in. As soon as you stepped out of the car Zemo’s arm wrapped around your waist. It fitted like nothing had changed in the time between. Your face instantly turned to him to tell him to let go but he held his finger up to your lips to stop you, “For appearance y/n, you are after all, for this evening, my partner”

Begrudgingly you accept it and don’t try to move his arm away as you walk together. Sam walks up beside you and as you turn to look at him he rolls his eyes. You chuckle at Sam then felt Zemo’s grip on your waist tighten.

As you walk into the bar Zemo takes a seat on the stool. You glance around but all the other seats had been taken. Smirking Zemo pats his lap, “Hop on princess”

You grasp onto his shoulder, pinching it harshly to cause him some pain as you position yourself on his lap, but he just chuckles at your reaction, his hand instantly going to rest on your tigh which was thankfully covered by your trousers.

“Don’t call me princess” you whisper angrily to him

He leans forward, his lips by your ear as you feel his breath, “We have to make it realistic princess, plus I think that would be the sought of a nickname I would give you if we were dating”

He presses a lip to your cheek as he pulls back from you, chuckling as he sees how your cheeks heat up and the glare you grace him with.

“Hello gentlemen and lady,” the barman says finally coming over to you, “I wasn’t expecting the smiling tiger”

“His plans changed, we have a business to do, with Selby,” Zemo says, trying to take over all conversation so no one gave themselves away.

“And she does as well?” he asks, nodding to you

“Anywhere I go she goes with me” Zemo replies, chuckling as he looks at you with a smile on his lips

“Isn’t that right princess?”

You try your best to push back the anger you felt, instead, forcing a smile as you look back at Zemo, “Of course my love” you tell him then leans forward to place a quick peck on his lips.

As your lips lightly brush against his you could hear the slight hitch in his breath and as you lean your head on his chest you wonder if he could feel how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

It’s just for appearances, that’s all you tell yourself but even though it was brief you could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that comforting feeling that you hadn’t felt in so long and it was as if all the buried emotions you had come flooding back. Here you were sitting on his lap, kissing him as if nothing had changed and for a moment you wondered if that could be the case. Could you two go back to what time was like before?

But you couldn’t. Not only was it down to the fact that Zemo was a wanted criminal, but he had moved on from you. He fell in love with another, he married her. Any feelings he had for you were long gone and this was just him messing with you, and you didn’t want to let him know the feelings you still had for him after all this time.

The barman seems to accept your display though, choosing to focus on Sam instead as he makes him his ‘usual’ drink.

Zemo orders you and him a drink which you thankfully take from his hand, hoping to drown your feelings away with the alcohol.

A man comes up behind you and instantly Zemo lifted you off your lap, pushing you behind him as he stands up to face the man.

“Got word from on high, you’re not welcomed here,” he tells Zemo,

“Hm” Zemo replies, nodding as he takes the man’s words, “I have no business with the power broker, but if he insists he can either come talk to me...” he finishes, nodding over to Bucky

“Or bring Selby for a chat”

The man leaves as Bucky looks over to Zemo. As Zemo turns around once again his arm wraps around your waist.

“A power broker, really?”

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar”

“Do you know him?” you ask and Zemo looks down at you amused by your question, “Only by reputation”

“In Madripoor he is judge, jury and executioner”

Zemo’s eyes focus now on another man coming towards him. Turning back around to the bar he speaks to Bucky in Russian just as the man places his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You all turn around to watch as Bucky grabs the man and starts to attack him. You’d seen violence before but it still made you wince knowing how Bucky didn’t want to do this.

After one particular nasty hit without thinking your hand grasps onto his hand, needing something to hold on to. As soon as you realised what you had done you swiftly try to pull your hand back but Zemo holds onto it tight, refusing to let it go. You could feel his gaze turn to you but you choose to ignore his cocky face and instead focus on Bucky.

You stand out of the way as Bucky slams the man onto the table and Zemo leans forward to let Bucky know not to take it too far. That was your ticket though as then you were being shown the way to see Selby.

The meeting itself wasn’t too bad. Zemo held onto your hand as he pulled you over to sit with him. He talked to Selby while you just sat on his lap. Selby didn’t pay any attention to you, which you were thankful for. Things were going smoothly until Sam’s phone ringed.

That’s how you found yourself running along with Bucky, Sam and Zemo avoiding gunfire. As you ran you heard one gunfire and felt your prosthetic leg move slightly as the bullet went straight through it.

Zemo must have seen what happened as well, but not knowing you had a prosthetic leg, he wrapped his arms suddenly around your legs, picking you up bridal style. He ran off to the side, leaving Bucky and Sam behind as he hid you down an alleyway.

“Zemo let go of me!” you hissed, hitting him in the chest as he stopped running. He instead places you on the ground, growling at you not to move as he starts to check all his pockets in his coats. Instead, you do move, getting up off the floor and he looks at you angrily. “I said don’t move! You’ll injure yourself more”

You lean down and jank up slightly the trouser leg, showing the fake metallic leg underneath.

“I’m fine Zemo! It’s fake. Now we need to go and find Sam and Bucky”

But Zemo was frozen, staring down at your leg in shock. Because at that moment was the realisation for him. All this time he had been teasing you, testing the waters of how far he could push you to admit to the past. Messing around with you as if you were two lovesick teenagers again. But you had both changed, and he was refusing to realise that until now. Because he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact you were no longer the woman he once knew. The one person he knew better than himself and he had still half-believed that was the case until now. You had a fake leg, lost in what he assumed was the army which you and Sam had been in. He didn’t know because the truth was you were almost a stranger to him now, and he hated that. He just wanted things to be the way they once were. That’s what he desperately craved but it couldn’t be.

“Okay,” he simply says and nods, finally pulling his gaze away from your leg and up to you. Following your lead, he chases after you to find out where Sam and Bucky had gone.

Sam paced around the main room of Sharon’s house. His mind was occupied with so many thoughts it was hard to concentrate but there was one that stuck out like a splinter in a thumb. What the hell was going on between you and Zemo? He wasn’t stupid he could pick up on something, the looks two you gave each other, the tension in the air, the way you reacted when you first saw him. Sam considered himself your best friend, though you two hadn’t seen each other in ages. So it bugged him how this was obviously something big to you, and he didn’t know what it was.

Zemo sat at the table by the side, quietly drinking some whiskey. Both you and Bucky had decided to retire for the night while Sam decided to stay up just so he could find out the truth.

“You look like you are trying to burn a hole through my head by the way you are staring at me Sam” Zemo says, finally looking up from his glass to Sam who was glaring at him.

“Is something the matter?” he asks

“You and y/n. What’s up with that”

Zemo chuckles, looking back down into his glass, “Ah that”

“I’m her best friend, I know everything about her, apart from this apparently”

Zemo’s eyes snapped back to Sam but this time there was no amusement in them, instead a angry glaze as he frowned, “Best friend?” he repeats, standing up and walking over to Sam. “You hardly know her at all”

Sam scoffs as he raises an eyebrow at Zemo attempting to get into his face. “And you do?”

“Yes” Zemo instantly replies, “I know she was born in Novia Grand, Sokovia. Just like me. I know which schools she attended, the same as mine, I know what her favourite meals are, we had them whenever she came round to my house. I know her favourite band, I took her to their first concert. I know everything little thing about her Sam, and you know nothing”

Sam’s eyes widen at Zemo’s confession, realisation dawning on him. “You were childhood friends”

“More than friends Sam, we were lovers. We were the first people we dated, we were each other first kiss, we were each other first time” Zemo claims as if bragging to Sam

“Yet you didn’t know she was in the Army, you didn’t know she had a prosthetic leg did you?” Sam asks and when he sees the slight fall in Zemo’s face he smiles, “You used to know her Zemo, but obviously, you don’t know the person I know now”

With a pair of tweezers lent to you from Sharon, you pull your trouser leg up and search around in your prosthetic leg attempting to find the bullet lodged inside and pull it out. You could see the bullet but you couldn’t quite get the right angle to pull it out making you groan in annoyance.

You were about to throw the tweezers across the room in anger when you heard a knock against the door. You were currently sitting in one of Sharon’s guest rooms as lot were staying at Sharon’s place for the night to rest up then go and find the scientist tomorrow morning.

“Y/n?” you hear his voice call out from the other side

You sigh rolling your eyes, “What do you want” you snap

“May I come in? We need to talk”

“I don’t want to talk”

You hear the click of the door and Zemo pushes it open to stare at you in a slight annoyance. His eyes then move down to the tweezers in your hand and your leg. He takes a few steps towards you, his hand out as he closes the door.

“Let me”

You hesitate for a moment but finally, give in and hand him the tweezers. He pulls out a seat beside you and gently puts the tweezers through the hole in your leg.

“How did it happen?” he asks as he concentrates on your leg while at the same time trying to create polite conversation.

“Like most injuries out there. One of the soldiers was on the floor, shot a round of bullets into my leg. The doctor there couldn’t save my leg so I had to get it amputated”

He nods, finally grasping the bullet with the tweezers and started to pull it out. “Serving in the army, it’s admirable. Something very like you. I was in the Sokovian armed forces. EKO scorpion”

You nod as you watch him pull the bullet out and place it to the side. “I remember reading about it in the news”

His eyes, flickering to you, glimmer with amusement. “So you kept track of me?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he caught you out. You glance away from his intense stare instead to the table. “Did you really expect that I didn’t? You once were my best friend Zemo. It’s hard to let that go. I saw you got married, had a child. I’m sorry about what happened to them”

It was Zemo’s turn to look away now, feeling the pain in his heart ignite as he thinks back to his previous family. “My son, he was born on your birthday”

“I’m surprised you remember my birthday”

He smiles slightly, finally turning his eyes back to yours, “Of course I do. Every year I’d drink a toast to you. You said that I was your best friend and hard to let go of that. Well, it’s the same both ways y/n. I couldn’t just forget about your existence.”

“I had to leave” you whisper

“I know. I know why you left, and I know why you broke up with me in the first place”

Your eyes flash to his in surprise and widen seeing how they were swarmed with tears. “Because of my family, they never would of let us marry because of your status. Y/n I would have left all of that behind for you, without a second thought”

Shaking your head you reply, “I couldn’t have asked that of you Zemo”

“And that’s one of the reasons why you are so perfect. You always put me before you, now this time I am asking you to finally let yourself choose. If you want me to leave say and I will leave. But if you don’t say I will stay with you, and I won’t let you leave again”

“We’re not who we once were, Helmut” you mutter, finally letting yourself use his first name and with that, he already knew your choice. His hand goes up to cradle the side of your face gently, moving it nearer to him.

“Then let’s discover each other, all over again”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his lips on you, fitting perfectly against yours as if they were made for you. He poised there, hoping he wasn’t being too forward but his lips smirked as you started to move your lips on him, crashing them on top of his for action, which he kindly gave.

His tongue poked your bottom lip, begging for entrance. One which you allow as you wrap your fingers behind his neck, getting tangled in his hair.

You could hardly believe this is where you were, once again with Zemo, his lips upon yours, desire between your legs. In the last twenty years, you had often dreamt of reuniting with Zemo, experiencing this moment again but you never thought it would happen. But here you were.

His hands travelled down your back, swooping under your butt as you wrapped your leg around his waist. Swiftly he lifts you off the chair and walks you over to the bed, placing you down on it and crawling on top of you.

His lips trail down your cheek, across your jawline and down onto your neck, sucking on that delicate pulse spot. A moan escapes from your lips and he pulls back chuckling. “For so long now I’ve longed to hear you moan for me Princess”

You just groan, your hand pushing his face back into your neck making him laugh but he quickly goes back to making a hickey on it. His fingers trail down to your shirt, slowly lifting it and once again he pulls away to be able to lift the shirt off you.

He holds back for a moment to admire your beauty. His hands move behind your back and swiftly undoes the clasps on your bra, tugging it off. He groans seeing you for all your glory and buries his head in your boobs. ‘Oh how I have missed these’

While his mouth latches onto your breasts, smothering them in kisses as his hands go to undo the buttons on your trousers. He starts to tug them down, with no sense of being gentle but rather a primal urge taking over him. He manages to tug them off you and then his lips move down even further. He trails his tongue from your breasts down your belly, leaving a trail of saliva. As he reaches your underwear, his teeth latch onto it. With a slight groan from his lips, he then pulls them off, sliding them down your legs and flicking them off to the floor along with your other discarded clothes.

He sighs in contentment as he buries his face into the side of your thigh as his fingers trail your prosthetic leg. Leaning forward he places a kiss on it, then trails upwards, littering it in soft kisses. The only softness you’ll be experiencing tonight.

As you feel him get nearer your core you let out a shudder in anticipation, as you shudder you feel his lips suddenly press against your core. He instantly latches into your clit, his tongue dancing on it, twisting it in circular motions. Your hands instantly grasp his hair, holding him close to your core, not letting him go. Not that he ever want to. Sandwiched between your legs is where he belonged.

“If I remember correctly, you always liked this part”

You let out a shocked gasp as suddenly a finger presses against your entrance and then slips inside of you, with ease from how wet you have become. He slides the finger all the way into the end, letting a moan rip out of your throat.

“It seems I do remember correctly”

“Instead of commentating everything why don’t you put that mouth to good use” you groan, pushing his face back into your crotch. His tongue instantly went back to your clit as he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, making sure it brushes against your walls. As you start to let more little moans he thrusts another finger inside, opening slightly to stretch you out.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening as he worked his tongue on your clit and his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. Then his fingers hit just at that right spot and your walls fluttered around him. You hardly got enough time to choke out a warning before you were gushing all over his fingers. When your climax started to edge away he pulled his face back from your clit, removing his fingers and while holding your eye contact he stuck his tongue out, lapping up your juices on his fingers.

He moans slightly as he licks it up, his eyes fluttering half close, ‘Mine Gott, I forgot just how good you tasted’

“Well let’s see if you are as good with that dick as you were in the past” you tease, pulling his face towards your to encompass in another kiss. As your hands hold his face to yours his fingers feel up the side of your waist, ghosting over your skin creating goosebumps.

You could sense when his fingers started to trail to his trousers though and you pull away from his lips making him whine.

“Strip for me”

He tilts his head smirking as he looks up into your playful eyes. “As you wish my princess,” he says as he climbs off you, standing at the end of the bed. Slowly he tugs off his large coat off, laying it on the side of the bed. Next, he works on his turtleneck, slowly tugging it up to his chest, then over his head. Soon it joins the steady growing pile of discarded clothes. Next, he quickly tugged down his trousers and boxers, his patience starting to wear thin.

As he pulled them down exposing his dick you hummed in approval. “Now isn’t that a sight for sore eyes”

“And you were complaining at me for talking” Zemo murmurs, stepping forward to crawl back onto you but your hold your hand up to stop him. “Put the coat back on”

“I see in our time apart you’ve become more demanding,” he says as he picks up the coat and slides it back onto his naked body. As he finally gets to crawl back on top of you, you grasp the fur collar and pull him closer to your face.

You run your fingers through his hair, making it even messier than it was before. Parts of it fell onto his forehead. His hands move down to hold his dick by your entrance, rubbing it against your folds. For a moment he hesitates, moving his head to rest against your forehead in anticipation.

“You’re still as beautiful as when I last saw you”

With that, he pushes into you, rather quickly because of how desperate he was to feel you around him. As he bottoms out he groans, pushing his face into the crook of the neck as you grasp the back of his head gasping. He stays still for a minute, treasuring the feeling of your walls clasping onto him. Then slowly he pulls mostly out of you, till just his head hung in your, and then thrust back into you.

He started to pick up speed, hearing the increase of your moans against his ear. His grunts and moans start to intertwine with yours as you both chase your pleasure.

“Gott, you are so perfect my princess. You feel so good around me” he’d groan into your ear as his hips thrust repeatedly into your, the sounds echoing on the walls of the room. His fingers sneak down your belly to your core, rubbing against your clit. Instantly your back was arched and your fingers grasped onto the coat.

“God Helmut, I don’t remember you being this good” you moan and with your words he speeds up, pumping inside of you. His head kept brushing up inside that perfect spot inside and with his fingers twisting on your clit you could feel your climax steadily approaching.

“H-Helmut, I’m going to, soon I’m-” you tried to get out between moans but there was no need to as Zemo could feel how close you were for the way your walls clung around him tightly.

“Come for me Princess, let me feel you. I need to feel you again my love, after so long”

And his words were music to your ears as you feel the knot within you snap and your wetness gushing over his dick. Zemo bites down on your neck, trying to be gentle, as he feels your walls grasp you even tiger as he thrusts into you. Not long after he felt his own release coming and as you lay there panting he thrusts in time to his release until he squeezed out every last drop.

He hovers over you for a moment, panting, wanting to remain in your warmth for just a moment longer but eventually he pulls out and collapse beside you.

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, burying his face in your hair.

“Thank you Helmut” you whisper

“No my princess, thank you for forgiving me for everything I’ve ever done to you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t deserve your love but I desperately need it. I won’t lose you again my darling”

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#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #i love zemo #zemo x you #zemo fluff #baron helmut zemo #sugar daddy zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo smut #zemo imagine #daniel brühl

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notnctu · 3 years

Text

POV | PART TWO

━ ❝ i’d love to see me from your point of view.❞

❀ lee donghyuck x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, fluff! angst, (optional smut is marked with ****) ❀ details - best friends to lovers!au, college!au, ft. best friend mark, slice of life?, inspo by pov by ariana grande ❀ word count - 6.1k ❀ warnings - swearing, dangerous reckless behavior, fingering, penetration, public?sex?, unprotected, slight dirty talk ❀ synopsis - Donghyuck gradually falls in love with you, his best friend, through unprecedented intimate moments that reveal more than what meets the eye and a drunken shared kiss on your birthday makes him realize how hard he’s fallen for you. You’re oblivious to it all, trying to indulge and seek a one true love through bad tinder hookups or men you meet at the club, all to only end in self doubt that Donghyuck has to reconcile. And he always tells you what you need to hear, while also leaving out the part where he so badly wishes you can love yourself the way he loves you.

❀ a/n - make sure you read the first part as it’s a continuation! please please leave me feedback, i would really appreciate it :) this is going to be my last long fic for the time being! thanks for dealing with my spam for the past few weeks after months no of writings <3

READ PART ONE

Donghyuck thought about that kiss every night since it happened, yet knowing you didn’t do the same. How unfortunate it was, when he panicked waking next to you in the morning and wondering if you were to confront him about it. However, there was nothing, no follow up. You didn’t remember it and he couldn’t tell if the sigh that left his mouth that morning was out of relief or despair.

Regardless, that became his epiphany and the more his love for you grew, the more he wished to be around you for all his days. Donghyuck jumped at every text message, picking up the phone to see if it was you and noting the disappointment in his heart whenever it wasn’t. He found himself smiling whenever your name was brought up, fondly thinking of how you make his heart race.

The moments that you were together, he swears on every universe that he’s the happiest he’s ever been. There’s something about you that makes him want to believe in love, and it’s not because of your unrealistic desires to find one. As selfish as he came to be, he wanted you all to himself and to be the sole reason behind your smiles.

“No Mark?” Asking as you hop into Donghyuck’s car, the clock on his dash reading the red digital numbers 2:12 A.M.

“Why can’t we just hang out for once?” He whines, but hopes that it’s playful enough to where you can’t tell that he’s actually serious. Donghyuck hears your melodic chuckle and everything inside him rumbles with glee and satisfaction.

He steals quick peeks over at you in the passenger seat, greedily taking in your appearance. “That’s not exactly how a throuple works, but I’ll let it pass. Mark never has time for us anyways.”

There is something so intimate about the late nights; the outside world is dead in its sleep and vulnerable to chaos. The streets are completely empty and it truly feels as if it’s you two against the city. It brings no regulations, easy escapes, staying up all night to feel something the day can’t give you.

You are the perfect person to spend them with. You’re the very definition of a good feeling, where he’s forgetting all his bad days and soaring through the heavens. The most accurate human form of excitement, the adrenaline and sweetest thrills that run throughout his body.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to do…” As Donghyuck pulls into a gas station parking lot, the small convenient store is brightly lit with a blinding white sign that reads a popular chain establishment.

Hyuck blinks at you curiously, head tilt and waiting for you to finish your sentence. Getting out of the car, you stand on your toes and rest your chin on the roof of his car to speak directly to him, “you know that big intersection over on 34th Boulevard?” He catches the mischievous twinkle that shines in your eyes and a grin so fearless fits your face perfectly.

He nods, spinning his car keys on his finger and walking up to the store. But he’s looking back at you with eyes that ask for you to proceed with him, and you’re running towards him with a sudden youthful energy and a jump in your step.

Your hand latches onto his arm and his gaze drops momentarily to follow it, “I’ve always wanted to just run down the middle of it. To run down a busy traffic area when it’s empty, knowing that this would be the only opportunity to do it without getting run over.”

“Is that what you’re suggesting we should do next?” Hyuck opens the fridge and grabs his favorite prepackaged ice cream cone. Your grip on his sleeve tightens, your dazzling eyes never leaving his.

He hands you a random popsicle and you take it mindlessly, your train of thought still trying to convince Hyuck to embark on achieving this new thrill of yours. “If you didn’t have anything else planned…”

“Am I some Fairy Godmother? Granting your wishes to come true?” Using sarcasm to hide his undying desire to scream yes! may be the best thing he’s learned to utilize. However, you don’t need to beg any more when a small smile curves at his lips. He’s more than convinced.

“Ah, a happy couple. You two look great together.” The rather talkative cashier compliments while he rings up the icey treats.

Just before Hyuck can clarify, you’re pulling him closer by the arm and using your fake saccharine smile. “The best boyfriend ever!” His throat freezes, but he’s following your lead closely. Confusion wandering his thoughts, but heart swelling at your usage of the word boyfriend to reference him.

The friendly stranger laughs wholeheartedly at your giddy act, completely falling for your overplayed nature of a lovey dovey girlfriend. “He always buys me what I want, like this ice cream. He knows it’s my favorite.” You blink innocently up at him, but he finally understands your malicious motive.

Shooting a glare at you, he complies silently and pulls out his card to pay for both of your treats. “Right. Anything my baby wants.” He says the pet name so easily that it shocks him a bit.

“Hey, you’re a good man.” The clueless cashier smiles even wider and prints the receipt. With a simple gratitude, you both exit the store and you’re laughing the loudest form of mockery.

Jumping into the car, Hyuck is quick to roll his eyes. “He always buys me what I want.” He imitates your previous statement with a silly voice. “I can’t believe you robbed me.”

The ridiculous scheme actually managed to work, leaving your stomach to hurt from the intense fit of giggles. “My baby? Where did you learn that?” You say between your spurts of laughter.

Heat rises up his neck, slightly embarrassed. “So what? Nicknames are cute.” He admits bashfully, while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

Your chuckles die down and you’re leaning over the middle console to get a closer look of his expression. “Really? Didn’t think you were the type. You never used them with your exes.”

“Around you.” A cringe runs down your spine when you witness Hyuck bite his ice cream, settling back in your seat with a grumble.

“Pet names in private.” Now, his palms grow a bit slick with perspiration. “That’s endearing.” Unwrapping your melting popsicle, you don’t probe him more about the subject. Instead, Hyuck turns up the stereo to drown out any more talk about romantic gestures.

After several rounds of finding street parking, Hyuck finally swerves into a spot situated just before the large six-way intersection. The traffic lights blink in view at the end of the street and in the darkness, there are no cars around. An unfamiliar scene, this place is nothing but a wide open road with five lanes that meet in the middle and lead to six different directions. The white painted lines that divide up the road are as chaotic as it looks during the day filled with traffic.

Nonetheless, you are right. There is no other chance to see it so dead, so empty, so free.

And you’re already hopping out of the car that Hyuck breaks his daydream and hurries after you. Standing the middle of the road is a dangerous scheme, yet these are the thrill seeking moments that you crave too well.

Extending your arm out and your palm facing the night sky, you grin enticingly at Hyuck to join you in the middle of the chaotic lines and the adrenaline picks up within him. He, too, matches your smile and lets every form of enthusiasm fuel him.

“Race you to the end.” Hyuck begins bolting down the long runway, causing you to scoff in disbelief at his sudden challenge.

The wind that takes flight against his body is crisp on his skin and driving his strands into a wild mess. Turning around, he sees that you’re quick on his tail. However, the one thing that catches his eye… the one thing that makes this moment another one of your most beautiful ones is the utter bliss and peace in your facial expression.

Eyes are closed and arms are spread out as if you’re letting the wind carry you away. The air slips between the spaces of your fingers and the night is filled with nothing, but your gentle out of breath giggles.

Donghyuck stops in his tracks right under the colorful traffic lights at your astonishing image. And if you are to open your eyes, you’ll see the marvelous image of your sun waiting for you in the middle of the largest intersection of the city with his mouth slightly agape and marked under a trance.

An exasperated sigh escapes as a puff of smoke and his heart works extra hard to pump oxygen in his veins. In his perspective, the excellent city skyline at the horizon remains your background and you’re running toward him with a breathless joy. Another splitting breathtaking image that will live in his mind for as long as he knows you.

So he throws caution to the wind and though it feels too good to be true, he loves his best friend more than anyone he’s ever come across.

By the end of your rendezvous, you two find a secret rooftop to fully enjoy your silent city. Standing side by side, you both lean with your elbows on the ledge.

There is something so unspoken and intimate about this very moment, where existing in each other’s presences becomes wholly more comfortable than anything in the world. And this safety allows for vulnerable secrets to spill, for questions that your heart has always been afraid to ask to fall from your lips.

But you’re not here with just anybody. Donghyuck probably knew what was already on your mind, he just needed you to speak them into existence.

“Hyuck, do you think I’m unlovable?”

Perhaps, it’s the intimacy that allows for him to talk more confidently about how he views you. Heart over mind, he scoffs in disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’re the most lovable person I know! From your happy giggles to your overall easy going aura. We’re not perfect people, but you’re worth every glance and every praise. I wanted to be with you the very moment you made me laugh.”

Donghyuck passionately rambles on about your attributes and everything you’ve allowed him to experience over the years of your friendship. While he’s always been there for you, you’re always by his side and making sure he’s living a memorable life. He thanks all his sweetest memories to you, that you are the most impactful person of his entire college experience.

“I came to college thinking I’d have my nose in textbooks all day long, but you fell into my life like an opportunity to escape. I love my nights trying to crush Mark on the leaderboards, but I’d give that up any day to run down a major intersection in the middle of the city with you.”

With a playful soft chuckle, you say something that practically makes his heart stop and regret oversharing. “You know, from how you describe me… it almost sounds like you’re in love with me.”

“Maybe I am.” He bites the inside of his cheek, unsure what suddenly overcame him. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and he’s anticipating your response, trying every way to decipher the quizzical look on your face. Nevertheless, your hesitation causes him to panic and he intercepts before you can respond. “I meant that as your friend.”

His heart drops into the pit of his stomach, gaze averting away from you. Lies. Lies. More fucking lies. He should’ve waited to see what you would’ve said.

Nodding knowingly, you lightly place your hand over his. The warmth of your touch soothes his aching and disappointment. Why is he hurting from a simple look? “I know.” He can’t tell what’s worse, the fact that you truly believe he only loves you as a friend or that you saw right through him and are trying to let him save face.

“Something happened the night of your birthday that I think I should tell you.” Hyuck sighs out all his frustrations.

He pulls his hand from underneath yours, “you asked me to kiss you as a birthday favor.” There is no confidence to watch your reaction, his eyes remain focused on the dark city.

Instead of a painstaking rejection, you laugh wholeheartedly and somehow, he feels much lighter. “And did you?”

“How could I say no to you on your birthday?” Peering over, your fingers softly graze your lips and a wandering look is present in your dazed stare.

“It’s not the first time we’ve kissed, Hyuck.” Smiling at him, Hyuck looks cluelessly at you and doesn’t recall another time. He would’ve remembered.

“Guess who I stole that same request from?” Your eye lashes bat firmly at him and he gulps at your implied question. There was no way.

“Me? When?” This all causes him to rack his brain of lost files, something he must’ve missed.

Sighing, you bid him a kind smile. “Your birthday party a few months ago. Drunk out of your living mind, you pulled me privately into the kitchen and asked if I could kiss you as a birthday gift.”

Fuck, no wonder why he couldn’t remember. He didn’t remember a single thing from that night. “It was right after my break up.”

Nodding, you affirm his realization. “You told me that you felt so lonely, and somehow…. someway… I’ve always made you feel seen. Perhaps, you do the same for me and my drunk ass was bold enough to ask for a similar request.”

But did you kiss him as if you loved him? With the same amount of love that he did the night of your birthday?

Nonetheless, you shrug off the topic and move on from it all. “We should go, the sun comes up in a few.”

Hyuck notes this odd detail. You’re not one to end the nights so abruptly, so it almost seemed as if you didn’t want to speak more about it.

Perhaps, you did kiss him like you meant it but every fear in your body about loving your best friend stops you from admitting it all.

Because you shouldn’t love your best friend, but something deep down has always wanted to.

How ridiculous he was to believe that you could ever possibly share the same feelings as him. How foolish he felt the moment you burst into his apartment announcing how you’ve finally found the one after another random Tinder date.

It’s as the night on the rooftop a week ago didn’t even exist or mean anything to you. But that night ate him up alive, to the point where he sought out love counseling from Mark.

“Oh dude, this is serious.” Mark watches Hyuck pace the room, double around the floorplan with his head in his hands with utter frustration and confusion. You’re the only thing that’s been running through his mind the last few days.

He grunts and rolls his eyes at how Mark’s face had fallen sullen. “I practically confessed everything I loved about her. It’s pretty serious.”

Mark stands and stops Hyuck by the shoulders, looking dead into his eyes. “I’ve liked her before too and would have done some dumb act to get her to like me back. I get it, Hyuck. So, what do you want to do?”

Donghyuck initially scoffs and tears away from his best friend’s intense stare, “of course you liked her too.” His voice fades out at the end of his sentence. “Mark, I like her so much it’s hard to look at anyone else. She’s…”

“Mesmerizing?” Mark finishes his sentence with a small proud grin on his lips.

Hyuck couldn’t hold the ridiculous laugh that escapes at how smug Mark looks, but then a silence falls over him. He realizes how perfect that word is to describe you. You are every dazzling trance he’d fawn under.

“It’s wrong, Mark. She’s our best friend, I can’t ruin us.” Hyuck slumps his shoulders forward and a pout extends. His eyes are wandering the ugly carpet but he’s thinking about every moment you’ve smiled.

“How did this happen in the first place? I thought you never would’ve liked her…” Mark’s question has Hyuck raking his brain to find his epiphany. “It’s not about your ex, is it? y/n is way too good to be a rebound.”

“No. This has nothing to do with my old relationships, I genuinely like her… so much.” Hyuck understands the implications in Mark’s sudden abrasive questions. Even it’s difficult for himself to say how it all started and so this has Donghyuck reflecting back on his entire friendship with you.

If only he had noticed your lively smiles sooner, a little earlier, it would have saved him all this time searching for someone who would last. You’ve lasted through every college relationship he’s had and that speaks louder than any confession.

“I never liked her because I never thought I had a chance. Have you seen her? Our best friend who has 400 matches on Tinder.” Though he blames himself for realizing a little late that he loved you, it was always hard to compete with everyone else.

“So, what changed then?”

Hyuck leans against the door to Mark’s room and crosses his arms to contemplate. “Not that I have a chance now, but I can’t hold these feelings back anymore. I want to kiss her until we’re out of breath, to love without any conditions, to be the reason behind her every beautiful moment.”

Mark raises a confused eyebrow, “but you are.”

“The only reason.” Hyuck speaks his truest desires and Mark coughs aggressively before composing himself. Right, he didn’t stutter one bit.

So, Hyuck had planned to confess, all until you gave him the very reason he couldn’t. When you showed up unannounced with one of those wide grins that has your eyes shimmering with hope, he just knew something was wrong. All his love and future aspirations were replaced with sheer disappointment and envy.

“I’m falling hard for him.” You begin and your hands are clasped together so innocently. “He brought me to this overlook on a cliff and we just talked for ages. It felt so right and then, he asked to see me again!” Your eyes are completely wondrous and distracted, like the one thought in your mind blocked out everything else. Jumping happily, you’re squealing with excitement thinking about this new person in your life and there is no consideration of Hyuck’s silence.

“That’s… great.” He barely stutters to fill the air and to replace the sound of his heart breaking. He lost you before even getting the chance to even have you.

“I know right!” You yell joyfully and though your smile is the biggest it's ever been, Hyuck refuses to see this moment as beautiful. He’s no longer looking at you objectively, his bias tainting it all and he sees it in an ugly light. As your best friend, he should be happy for you and rooting for you. He’s known more than anyone else that you have been waiting for someone like this your whole college experience.

However, he can’t feel a single good emotion as you ramble on about your alleged one true love.

“Did you need something?” He cuts you off, growing a bit irritated by your endless praise about a man who never wishes to meet.

Clearing your throat, you take Hyuck’s hand in both of your palms. With begging eyes, you say, “my sister is getting married this weekend and they invited you.

His hold escapes yours as he walks toward his bedroom, “shouldn’t you invite your new man to your family events now.” It’s difficult for him to hide the bitterness in his voice, but you run up to him and grip his arm.

“But they think I’m dating you, remember? Plus, my mom referred to you by name. She really likes you.” You snicker, clearly not understanding why Donghyuck seems to be rather distant at the moment.

His ears perk up at the compliment and though it’s a selfish thought, he feels content knowing that he was able to win over your family. So, his heart burns at how your hand slowly travels down to intertwine with his own and how your chin rests on his shoulder lightly. His head turns and he is met a few inches away from your tender lips. For a brief moment, he’s staring at them longer than he should.

“Come on, Hyuck. Be mine for one more time.” Your whisper is gentle and soft, your breath tickling against his cheek. Despite everything, he loves how you make him feel. It’s always a mixture of happiness and safety. There are no fears with you because you’re absolutely fearless. He can’t imagine how he would’ve opened up without you around, that he puts every form of trust into you.

So, every little thing that you do. every single passing look. every touch and every spoken word. He falls harder for you every time you simply see him, every time you bat your eyelashes at him. And this love that festers inside of him feels easy and genuine. Perhaps, you’ve been his one true love all along. He’s never felt remarkably seen, where every part is exposed and right at your fingertips.

And you… have been so patiently waiting for just anyone to steal your heart. How can he let just anyone love you?

“I’m yours for however long you want me to be.” He lightly ruffles the top of your hair before slightly shrugging you off, afraid that your hold will eventually have him saying other sweet implications. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it.” He smirks at your small chuckle, the roll in your eyes.

“At least pretend.” But he really doesn’t have to. He enjoys every moment being yours.

When the day finally arrived, the grand wedding may have been another day that Hyuck will never forget how beautiful you looked. Prancing out in your bridesmaid dress, you run towards him through the large field of fake grass. He catches you when you jump into his arms, practically failing all over and tripping over the ends of your chiffon dress. He hits the ground, cushioning your fall.

“Hey..” you grin down at him breathless, hand resting perfectly on his chest as it was the night of your 21st again.

Hyuck gulps and sends you a glare, “I should have dropped you.”

“That would have been very chivalrous of you.” Sarcasm bites back at him as you push up and off of him. He’s quick on his feet and brushing off any dust from the bottom of your expensive dress, avoiding the long open slit that runs down to expose one leg.

“Donghyuck, you’re looking ravishing.” Your mother steps out, tall and prideful, but with the most delightful expression as she opens her arms to invite him into a hug.

He leans into it, while cautiously making suspicious eye contact with you. You shrug back, also confused at why your mother has a sudden change in demeanor. “It’s been so long since the holidays.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He bids your mother a respectful smile when she pulls away, to which she absolutely fawns at and you’re tugging at his sleeve to drag him away.

“The pleasure is all mine. You make y/n a better person.” And there is no context that Hyuck understands this single phrase before he’s walking away from your force. Your mother waves a small sweet goodbye as she watches you two leave behind a cobblestone wall behind the large reception building.

It’s covered in long vines that grow up the old stones, a beautiful background for an outdoor wedding. “Rude.” He whispers when you finally stop pulling him away.

“She was starting to say odd things.” You laugh, quite nervously actually. Nonetheless, you shake out of your nerves and a beaming expression replaces your troubles. “So, guess what? I’m meeting my man afterwards.” Yet again, the curve of your lips at the thought of another rumbles his own yearning heart.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looks down while kicking at the loose pebbles on the ground. “Good for you.” grumbles Donghyuck mindlessly.

You don’t notice his low spirits again, you’re talking away about this man as if he’s all you’re consumed with nowadays. On and on, the same speech about how you’re practically ready to give it your all and how he fits someone unimaginable. Eventually, Donghyuck becomes fed up by how your eyes blink up to the sun with another reflection in them. “It’s like you forget who you are when you’re with someone new.”

And you’re in mid-ramble when you hear his harsh comment that picks aggressively at your skin. It stings, “what?” You cross your arms defensively and raise an eyebrow at him. The tone in your voice is jarringly upset and he opened a can of worms that he isn’t ready for.

Donghyuck swears underneath his breath, looking away at the tall trees behind the small parking lot. “Forget it.” He mumbles, rather frustrated at himself for ticking you off.

“What are you implying?”

“There is someone that actually makes you a better person rather than someone completely different.” He scoffs, his emotions fueling the worst of him. The words flow from his mouth full of anger and spitefulness.

Your eyes narrow at him, crossing your arms defensively. “Like you can give me the love you think I deserve? This whole fake boyfriend gimmick has gone too much to your head.”

And his heart is bursting at the seams and all he can see is your angry expression, so he says something he never hopes to regret. Every impulse beats his rationality and in the heat of the moment, Donghyuck confesses, “if only you can see yourself from my point of view and all the emotions I feel when I look at you.”

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re slightly shocked at his bold statement. You blink cluelessly at him, speechless and deciphering how to respond. The anger fades from the both of you, knowing that the connection you two possess is mutual. Somewhere deep down within you, a light switches on and you’re basking in your sun’s radiance in this moment.

“Tell me about it.” Your curiosity brings much confusion, but he doesn’t wait a second of hesitation.

“Happiness, you light up my nights in dark cars with your smile. Trust, there is no one else I’d run down a dangerous intersection with. Courage, being bold enough to dance in a crowded room like no one was watching. Love, when kissing you felt incomparable to anything else in the world. Vulnerability, looking at you and knowing everything about you.”

Donghyuck takes a cautious step forward toward you. A whirl of thoughts and emotions overwhelmingly flood your heavy mind, but fear no longer holds you back from the one person you’ve always wished to love, harder than any person you’ve ever encountered. “Donghyuck.”

He freezes at the call of his name, waiting patiently for your next words. “I want to love me the way that you love me... because nobody loves me like you do… even myself. So, I’d love to see me from your point of view.”

Donghyuck releases the sigh that suffocates him and every firework lights up in his chest. His eyes wander across your canvas and absorb everything wondrous about your features. Even though you’re not entirely smiling, you’re puckering your lips cutely out of embarrassment. And he reassesses how pretty you simply look in your expensive formal chiffon dress and the bold color on your lips that has made you feel good before.

He thinks aloud, the words leaving his mouth before they can be stopped. “This is your most beautiful moment.”

When you’re looking up at him to meet his dreamy gaze, a new enthusiasm washes over your entire body. Looking rather inexplicably attractive in his suit, Hyuck stares at you as if you’re all he can see. So, you pull him into the only source of gratitude you can give. A kiss that gives every emotion back to him, one that resembles closely to the one he gave you on your birthday and the one you gave him for his.

An emotional kiss that tells him more than he can see. He feels it on the tip of your tongue and every ounce of love that rushes over the both of you.

***********

Donghyuck’s wandering hands travel down your waist, over your hips, all until it reaches in between the slit of your dress. His hand instinctively grips at your naked thigh, the feeling of your raw skin driving him wild with impure thoughts. Your hands are quick on his tie, loosening it from around his collar and unbuttoning the first few as you’ve done once before.

“Can,-- Is it okay if--?” Hungry eyes search his face for confirmation, but you’re so lust driven that you’re a stuttering mess. “Do you want this?”

“Yes.” Says Hyuck without any hesitation. Taking his hand, you’re quick to lead him inside to a more secluded part of the venue. The lavish private bathrooms are brightly lit and he lifts you on top of the marble counters.

“The reception starts in 20 minutes.” You moan as Hyuck kisses down your neck hastily, a hand up the slit of your dress to push your panties aside.

“We’ll make it quick then. I’ll show you love another day.” His knuckle lightly grazes against your erect clit and your grip on his shoulder tightens. Whimpers fall from your lips as your hips mindlessly grind into his hand. “Never took you the type to be so loud.” Hyuck raises an eyebrow and tilts his head mockingly at you.

“This isn’t even close to how loud I can get.” Your statement causes him to swallow hard. Being your best friend, he has kept a rather clear mind from any sexual attraction toward you. He had to know he loved you in order to even see you in that way.

Gathering your slick, he rubs your clit with two fingers before dipping them into your hole. You lean back into the mirror and prop your feet on the counter to spread open for Hyuck to see. “You let all these idiots fuck your pretty pussy? They don’t deserve you, as a person or a potential partner.” He fingers you deeper and with flicking motions, he hits your sweet spot and causes you to jolt.

“Please, just fuck me. I’ve always wondered how good you’d feel.” His eyes twinkle at your bashful confession, but understands your lustful desires even for your own best friend.

“You think about fucking me?” He asks abruptly, taking his fingers out to suck your juices clean from them. A coined flattered smirk appears on his lips as he unbuckles his belt.

You’re averting eye contact, “well no, maybe just once. I get horny when I’m drunk sometimes.” You admit and he’s rushing to take himself out of his restrictive dress pants. His dick hits the air and he adjusts closer to your dripping core.

And he enters, slowly and slowly inching in so you can adhere to his size. You bite back every yell of pleasure and grip the ends of his dress shirt. Hyuck fills you up deliciously, and you two are connected through bodies beyond any way before. He leans in to give you a sloppy, yet passionate kiss before dragging out his hips and pushing them back in.

There is no guilt, no pain, no sorrows. Knowing Hyuck, he fucks you in the same way he wishes to love you. His hips drive into you passionately and quickly. The time crunch being something that causes him great distraction, but his heart is swelling simply feeling your warmth wrap around him so well.

“My baby is so tight.” Pet names in private. A small grin appears on your face at the sound of the sweet nickname and you pull him closer by tugging his shirt.

“Harder, Hyuck. Don’t hold back anymore.” Moan after moan, Hyuck relentlessly drills into you. His arm is hooked underneath your left thigh to keep it up, and your head keeps banging against the mirror.

Your eyes roll back when his thumb rubs circles on your aching clit. The mixture of both pleasures stimulate you until the build up tension in your stomach begins to reach its peak.

“Cum, I know you fucking want to.” He grunts, keeping the same rhythm that pushes you over your edge. Your walls squeeze around him tightly as your legs shake sporadically from your release. You’re smart to cover your mouth, knowing that the bathroom will only echo your erotic sounds. Your chest rises and falls from the momentum and adrenaline that Hyuck helped you reach, breathlessly trying to calm your heart rate down.

After a few more harsh bumps, he pulls out and motions you forward. Jumping off of the counter, you kneel on the ground and suck his tip lightly. Your swirls are enough for him to empty into your mouth, his hot streams of salty liquid hitting the back of your throat. He looks down at you and your wide eyed expression with his cock in your mouth drives him overboard.

And you swallow, getting up to lightly plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. A lip stain being worn proudly for just a moment.

“You amaze me.” Hyuck whispers, holding you against his flushed body and fast paced heart beat.

“Hurry out you two!” A voice startles the both of you with a knock on the door and you two are quick to readjust yourselves. He hopes to love you a little longer next time, without any interruptions.

***********

After the glorious and excruciating long wedding, you’re walking Hyuck to his car in the small parking lot. During the rest of the night, he held your hand the whole way through and the love that he looked at you with was more than real.

He talked with your distant relatives as if he’s always known them. Hyuck conducted the dinner table, always knowing what to say. There was no doubt in your head that seeing Donghyuck in the aftermath, he was always going to be someone who was going to make things better.

The love you long searched for, the love that you had been too afraid to touch, intertwined itself so lovingly underneath the white table cloth. Donghyuck is the one and it took needing to see him a bit more to realize. A little more acceptance from the both of you had to be the final straw.

Donghyuck sheepishly scratches the back of his neck when you reach his car, unsure where the path of your friendship will diverge to next. “Have fun on your date then…” His voice trails off, kicking the rocks at his feet again.

There goes your melodic laughter that soothe his aching heart and the familiar gentle grip on his fingertips. You lift his chin up, the both of you seeing each other clearly now.

From his perspective, you’re absolutely dazzling in the low light and butterflies swirl in the pit of his stomach. He can look at you forever, until months turn into years. He can love you until you two grow old. You’re his fearless, beautiful, inexplicably marvelous best friend. And he patiently waits for the day you’ll let him finally be yours.

From your perspective, Donghyuck shines even when the night overtakes the sky and possibly, the warmth in your heart bubbles across your chest. You can stay with him forever, until months turn into years. You can trust him like it’s you two against the world. He is your silly, charming, timidly benevolent best friend. And you’re slowly falling and hoping for the day you get to be his.

“I’m not going to see him anymore. He’s not the one.” Hyuck blinks at you, full of confusion and shock.

“But you sounded so happy.” His voice gets lost in the stillness of the intimate atmosphere.

“No, Hyuck. You make me happy and I’ll say it again for you to hear me. Nobody loves me like you do.” Reaching up, your hand caresses his cheek and he falls into your palm lovingly. His heart runs a mile, reaching the greatest high he’s ever going to feel. He hopes his eyes don’t deceive him, but the utter perfection on your face makes him feel whole.

You wish that Hyuck can teach you to love yourself the way that he loves you.

“Take me home?”

“How could I ever say no?”

thank you for being patient with me! its finally done and i will be going on a writing hiatus for a bit. housemating and ridin club will come out sometime soon, but i really need to step away from writing for a bit. please understand, thank you for reading :)

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #neosmutcollective #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct scenario #lee haechan #haechan scenarios #haechan smut #nct smut #nct imagines #nct #nct dream scenarios #nct imagine

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jujutsu-headcanons · 4 years

Text

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong.

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle.

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out.

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art"

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

#jjk #jjk spoilers #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons

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solarwonux · 3 years

Text

Sangyeon x f!reader

W.C: 6.2k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, arguing, mentions of cheating

For the 12 Months I Loved You Collab by: @sunlightwoo

Note: um...better late than never right?? This was supposed to go up in February but things happen. It’s one of my favorite ones that I’ve written, but I feel like I say that for every single thing I write lmao. I hope you like it plsssss let me know your thoughts. Thank you.xx

A long exasperated sigh left your lips at the sight of Sangyeon in the corner of the reception hall, chatting up a pretty redhead. His arm draped around their waist, clutching their body close to his, their faces close enough to smell the expensive champagne lingering in their breaths. A palm was placed on his chest as he leaned down to whisper something in their ear. Earning a flirtatious giggle from them, along with a sultry nod.

Their delicate fingers wrapped around his black tie as they pulled him close to whisper something against his plump lips. It was your cue to look away, but something inside of you—maybe the five flutes of champagne you had indulged in when the night was still young, prevented you from looking away.

Gripping the body of your sixth flute you prepared for what was to come, though when he smirked and unraveled their fingers from his tie, you let out a sigh of relief. Sangyeon still hasn’t broken rule number three of your friends with benefits arrangement.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstance you are to hook up with other people.

Though when he ran his fingers down the side of their arm teasingly making them shiver at the feather-like feeling. One you had relished in for many nights on end, you knew he would not only be breaking rule number three but rule number four as well.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to hook up with other people, especially when the other party is in the same room.

The anger flourished inside of you like an unwelcome weed. And you knew green was definitely not your color, but you couldn’t help but feel the jealousy take over, running along your veins like bitter poison. Your grip on your champagne flute got tighter. So much so that if you were destined with superhuman strength you would’ve shattered it into pieces, especially when his knowing eyes met yours. A glint of something sinister sparking behind them while his fingers laced with those of the red head.

He turned away before giving them a shy whisper and then tugged them gently towards the door of the reception hall. Leaving you behind in the middle of his best friend’s wedding reception, on your sixth flute of champagne, while you broke rule number six.

Don’t catch feelings for the other party involved.

To be fair when you and Sangyeon had agreed to the terms and conditions of your new no strings attached relationship. You were positive, even overly confident that you weren’t going to be the one to fall for your brother's asshole friend.

You had known him for years, grew up with him. He always made it his mission to make your life a living hell. Whether it was purple food coloring in your hair conditioner back in middle school (you had an odd mixture of purple and red that had somehow turned a nasty shade of burgundy in your hair for almost a year as you grew it out enough to cut off the damage,) or calling you ugly while simultaneously including all the the synonyms. He had made your life a living hell, he had been the reason for your tears whenever your insecurities took over. And he had been the reason for your newfound jealousy now as you sat on your couch a week after your brother's wedding still replaying the scene back in your head like a bad old timely movie.

It had started when two of you got drunk on Christmas Eve, laughing boisterously at your nonexistent love life’s.

“Who knew the reason we would be bonding is because we haven’t gotten laid in months.” He said, throwing his head back, gulping the remnants of his beer.

”For your information, I got laid last week. But I’m not bringing my one night stand to meet my family.” You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his.

He sets the beer bottle to his side, before leaning his elbows on his knees and gazing over at you. “How many people asked you where your date was tonight?”

“Too many.” You sigh, running your finger along the condensation of your own beer bottle. The memories of yours and Sangyeon’s family coming up to you asking you the million dollar question still prevalent in your mind. “You?”

“Not as many as I expected but still a lot. I just wish maybe they can back off.” He leaned back, placing his elbows behind him. He tore his eyes from your form and focused them on the night sky. “Maybe I should’ve hired a date or something.” He comments.

Your family's holiday party was still bustling behind the front door of your childhood home. Yet, the thought of ever going back in, earning judgmental looks from your single aunts was keeping you away.

He was right, maybe you should’ve hired someone as a date for the night.

Sangyeon bumped his knee against yours gently, “Want to date for the holiday’s?” The question came off as a joke, his sweet and gentle laugh following it. But as you sat there contemplating the idea, you realized that it wasn’t as bad. He was practically family. Your parents and his parents had been trying for years to set the two of you up. If you were to show up on New Year’s with your arm looped in his, no one would bat an eyelash. In fact you were willing to bet money that your mom and his would start crying pure tears of joy.

“Why not?” You shrug, “Our parents have been planning our wedding since we were kids, and as much as we don’t like each other. In some twisted sense of the word I do trust you.” Sangyeon did a double take, sitting up straighter and leaning in just enough to be in your line of sight.

“Are you sure?” Concern washed over his features. His bottom lip found its way in between his teeth as he waited for your response. “Like, you want to date me for the holiday’s?” He asked pleading for reassurance. Despite the relationship between the two of you not making sense to anyone outside your friendship circle, the level of trust and respect for each other’s boundaries was evident. You two pushed each other, got under each other’s skin, but you also knew when to stop. Which is why this plan was perfect. Foolproof.

“Yes.”

And somehow the two of you agreed that from then until further notice you would be each other’s dates for every holiday in the near future. Yet, if you had known the outcome of it you wouldn’t have agreed, especially not when the thin threshold had been crossed on your birthday.

He had showed up with a cheap bottle of vodka, all the romantic comedies he could find at the gas station and a boyish smile. His lips were on yours after five shots of the drinking game you had invented and you were naked underneath him after seven.

“I’m just saying, adding sex into the mix wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” He proposed with a shrug during a very awkward hang over filled coffee talk at the rundown cafe the next day. “We can even add some rules so it wouldn’t be so weird.”

“Adding rules is the weird part, Sangyeon.” You rolled your eyes before taking a sip of your herbal green tea and then cringing at the taste. “But they would help...you know to keep things from getting messy.”

“Then it’s settled.” He smiled widely grabbing the kids menu you had ordered from and a red crayon, scribbling down messily in his almost indescifrable handwriting:

Holi-date No Strings Attached Rule Book

Can I come over tonight.xx

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in annoyance, upon reading the text from Sangyeon. Of course, he hadn’t contacted you for over a week and the only time he decides to do so is when he’s in need of a good fuck. You throw your phone down on the table, resting your forehead against it. An annoyed sound falling out of your lips.

“Hello there negative nancy,” Kevin says, slipping into the seat in front of you. “I got you your favorite.” He sings, placing the iced matcha green tea latte in front of you and flicking the top of your head to get your attention.

You whine, lifting your head up a pout evident on your lips as you break the seal of the plastic lid with your paper straw. A poor attempt to reduce the consumption of plastic. Changing the straw wouldn’t do anything for the Earth when your whole cup is made out of non-biodegradable plastic. Maybe it’s the effort and the thought that counts, either way you take a sip from your drink, savoring the taste as it coats your tastebuds. Letting the false promise of a full six hour surge of energy run down your throat.

“Thank you for buying today.” You nod.

“It’s the least I can do for helping me with the web design project.” He smiles an award winning smile before bringing his hot mug of black coffee up to his lips. Hissing from the heat and cringing at the taste. Just like how he couldn't phantom how you liked the vibrant green liquid, you couldn’t understand how he drank five cups of black coffee daily. Indeed, he was not human, you concluded that a couple years ago.

You shrug, wrapping your fingers around the cup, “I had time to spare, but don’t get too comfortable with my help. It’s rare that I finish my work early.” You point an accusatory finger at him, furrowing your eyebrows before breaking into a wide smile.

“Ehh,” Kevin shrugs, “we’ll see about that when you’re begging me to buy you one of those nasty vomit colored drinks in a week.” He finishes sending you a wink that usually has all the girls and guys weak in the knees. You on the other hand have been so accustomed to his flirty ways after years of working side by side that it did nothing to you but annoy you slightly, yet in some odd way it comforted you.

Since day one everything between you and Kevin was comfortable and easy. He sat next to you in your digital marketing class Sophomore year of college and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. For a while you harbored a fat silent crush on him, his flirting being a point of confusion for you back then. It wasn’t until you experienced first hand what dating Kevin would be like that your crush dissipated into nothing but a platonic kind of love.

It was awful, the two of you had only gone on two dates. Two very disastrous and nightmare inducing dates, that sent shivers up both of your spines when just the mere thought of it entered the front lobe of your brains. It was then, while attempting to wash out a red wine stain out of your white dress in his and Jacob’s kitchen that you both agreed to just being friends. Eventually leading up to being coworkers as well.

It was a shame, you could always see yourself possibly loving Kevin and it would be easy too. And as much as you’d like to imagine it sometimes, he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted and vice versa.

“How’s the boyfriend, trouble in paradise yet?” He raises his eyebrow at you, hitting your calf lightly with the tip of his dress shoe.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, “Sangyeon is not my boyfriend, we just hang out sometimes.”

You quirks an eyebrow, smirking, “That’s what I said about Jacob and I, and look at us now.” He raises his left hand wiggling his ring ringer, letting the gold band catch the light of the setting sun. “Till death do us apart or something like that.” He shrugs, taking another sip from his coffee.

“Yeah but you two are perfect for each other, Sangyeon and I are like water and oil we don’t mix unless, well...you know.”

“Unless the two of you are fucking? Yes I am aware, the horror of me walking in on the two of you last month still keeps me up at night.” He shudders, pushing his half empty mug away from him. A disgusted look on his face.

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands in utter despair, “I thought we agreed to forget about that and move on.”

“Fine I won’t bring it up again,” He rolls his eyes and sits back, crossing his arms in front of him. “But I know there’s trouble in paradise, does it have to do with what happened at the reception?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t just the events that took place at the reception. It was everything before the reception, during the reception and after the reception. You swore to yourself and him the morning after the two of you first accidentally slept together that you would never fall for him. But as it turns out, you had fallen for him long before that, a moment lost in time. A moment you couldn’t pinpoint but you just knew that what you felt for him was more than platonic. It sucked.

“Maybe,” you shrug, stirring the contents of your drink with your paper straw, distracting you and avoiding Kevin’s look of concern. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s just so frustrating. We agreed to have rules to make this whole fucked up situation less of a mess, but he broke two of those rules that night, purposely. I could tell that he was enjoying it.” You let out a defeated sigh and push your drink out of the way, bringing your arms to rest on top of the table, crossing them and hiding your face in them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion you were feeling, but you just knew it was bad from the way your throat closed up and the tears that were brimming in the corner of your eyes.

Kevin hummed and leaned forward onto the table, ruffling your hair in the process. “And what rule have you broken?” He whispers.

“The one in which I wasn’t supposed to fall for him.” You lift your head, digging your palms into your eyes forcefully. “I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I can’t stop. It’s like he’s casted some kind of love spell on me. Maybe it’s part of his evil plan to destroy me once and for all.” You sigh, grabbing your phone and turning it over. The text sitting there unread, haunting you.

“Don’t answer it.” Kevin covers your screen with his hand. The sadness he held for you is evident behind his soft eyes. “I know you want to but don’t answer it. It’s only going to make you feel worse and frankly I still hate seeing you cry.”

He’s right. Answering him would only make you feel smaller than you already do. You didn’t want to see him, but you longed to have him hold you even if it meant nothing to him. You push Kevin’s hand away, swiping your thumb over the text, hitting reply. You know you should listen to your best friend, but there’s a reason why the two of you would’ve never made it far in a romantic relationship.

You were stubborn and never listened.

8pm, don’t be late. I have to wake up early tomorrow.

Kevin sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, falling back in his chair, scoffing. “Last time, tonight will be the last time and then we break it off.” You say, avoiding his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I said and I ended up having a shotgun wedding.”

Can’t wait, miss you.xx

“My job’s having an event for Valentine’s Day.” Sangyeon broke the silence, his chest still rising rapidly, matching yours. As you came down from your highs.

The second he had walked in through your front door he was pinning you against your poor excuse of a dining room table, without a proper greeting. He barely gave you a second to think before he was peeling your clothes off in a haste and carrying you off to your room.

“And you want me to go with you?” You turn your head to face him. He was laying down on his side, his head resting on his arm, watching you cautiously.

“Mhm,” He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you close. “I need a plus one, I have this annoying coworker that doesn’t leave me alone. I figured if I brought you along they would back off.”

“So I’m not just your date, but also your cockblock?” You tilt your head to the side, raising your eyebrow. “What happens when they find out we aren’t actually dating?” You poke his chest with your index finger. It was smooth and muscular and decorated with the beautiful marks you left behind a few minutes ago.

“They won’t.” He smiled leaving a light kiss against your neck, trailing his lips up and sucking on the spot he knew would have you moaning in seconds. “What do you say?” He bites your earlobe, pulling it before sitting up again.

You sigh and bring your sheets up to your body, sitting up. “I can't, I have plans already.” You lie hugging your knees up to your chest. You wanted to go, pretend once more that you and Sangyeon were more than holiday dates and fuck buddies. But you couldn’t put yourself through that anymore. You were getting used to being by his side, living out a fantasy in your head. When all he wanted was a quick fuck and an easy pass.

“I have a date, Kevin and Jacob’s friend.” You shrug, closing your eyes, mentally apologizing to the couple for dragging them into your problem’s once again. “We’re going out to dinner.” You finish, opening your eyes and looking over at Sangyeon who laid there, messy hair decorating his pillows, stunned. You knew what he was thinking and you were just waiting for him to say it. To get it over with so he’d leave as fast he came in.

He chewed on his bottom lip and then scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, what about rule number seven or whatever.” He quickly got up from your bed, letting the sheets covering his lower half fall down to your carpeted floor.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to date other people, until officially calling the deal off.

“Well, I don’t know. I like him. We’ve been talking for a while now and he’s sweet. He likes me.” You shrug, watching as he walks around your room looking for his discarded clothes. “And I haven’t broken the rule, yet. I was hoping we could talk about it and just call this whole thing off once and for all.”

“No but you broke rule number one or something.” He puts on his boxers fast and digs through your scattered clothes on your floor for the rest of his clothes.

You sat there silently watching him, running through your memory files as you recalled the rules and what rule number one consisted of which had nothing to do with what you had done. Or lied about doing.

As common courtesy for the other party, always use protection.

“That’s not what rule number one is, it’s -”

“Whatever, you broke a rule before calling it quits, you were basically cheating on me.” He yells, leaving his white washed jeans unbuttoned as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. You were floored, witnessing an angry Sangyeon wasn’t rare for you. In fact, growing up you had been the product of many of his angry outbursts while inducing your revenge, but it was never serious. This was different. This felt different. This was serious, he was accusing you of something you didn’t do. He was accusing you of doing the one thing you saw him do at your brother’s wedding reception. It made your blood boil.

“That’s fucking rich coming from you, when you cheated on me first, but I never brought it up because although you fucking did break a rule. We are not together so who am I to get angry at you?” You threw your hands up in the hair, before pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Who are you to get angry with me?”

“And they were a good fucking lay, much better than you in every single aspect.” He spits out, angrily putting on his shirt. His words hurt. He was hitting you where it hurts the most and he wasn’t even aware of it. You held his gaze, refusing to break down in front of him.

“Why not ask them instead, why didn’t you go to them tonight instead of coming here?”

He shrugs, looking around your room, focusing on the polaroid pictures you kept on your mirror. Anything was better than looking at you, and the tears pooling in yours in which he undoubtedly was the cause of. But he was hurt too, you let him come over, you let him in and he had given you everything. Poured out his unwarranted feelings into every kiss he left on your body and every pattern he painted onto your skin with his delicate fingertips, just like he always did whenever the two of you got together. He knew he had broken rule number six a long time ago. Back when the two of you were still in high school, when the rules didn’t exist and his crush on you was nothing compared to what he felt for you now. But he was scared of telling you, and it had gotten him nowhere.

His heart still broke just like he feared, and even worse he had broken yours too.

“Maybe I should, this was a mistake. Being with you in the first place was a mistake and I knew it was going to bite me in the ass one day.”

“Get out, I never want to see you again.”

“With pleasure.” Sangyeon turns around and walks out the door. It wasn’t until you heard your front door slam shut that you finally let yourself cry.

You should’ve listened to Kevin.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jacob pulls his scarf around his neck. Though, it was February it had snowed last night. The winter clothes that you had slowly started putting away, swiftly made their comeback when you woke up shivering that morning.

You shake your head, stuffing the heart shaped cake you had made for both him and Kevin the day before. Be mine inscribed in sparkly purple store bought icing as per request from Jacob, “It’s Valentine’s Day, you should spend it alone together.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively at the two men in front of you.

Kevin leans forward, one hand on his waist while the other one moves up and flicks your forehead, “get that pretty head of yours out of the gutter, Jacob and I are gonna romantically eat our weight in this beautiful cake you’ve made us, while watching the Bring it On series.”

“I’m trying to get him to realize why the third one is the best.” Jacob says pointedly, bumping his shoulder against his husbands. “Solange Knowles steals the show, but he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Kevin scoffs and turns to face him, “I love you and I love your love for the Knowles family but face it babe the best Bring it On movie is the first one, it sets the precedent for all the other movies.” He finishes painting the picture out with his hands in the air before kissing the others cheek.

You shake your head, silently giving Jacob a knowing look. Of course the third Bring it On was the best one, but you won’t ever say that out loud. At least not with Kevin present, he won’t ever let you live it down. Will go on and on about how both you and Jacob were wrong until he was repeating himself.

“It sounds tempting but I’m going to pass, I have my own date with my couch and heart shaped pizza and -”

“Your vibrator.” Kevin interrupts, raising his eyebrows, smiling smugly at you. The embarrassment taking over your body and rising out of your ears. Jacob rolled his eyes, hitting his husband’s upside the head, and a warning look. Kevin pouted, “What? I’m not wrong, that's what she does every Valentine’s day, I’m just stating the truth.” He complains rubbing the back of his head.

“We’re going to go now.” Jacob places both of his arms on top of Kevin’s shoulders, mouthing a sorry in the process. You brush him off, “the offer still stands, if you get bored you can join us.” He opens the door and pushes his husband through the door frame.

“I’m good, have fun and no Kevin you can’t sleep on my couch after Jacob’s kicked you out again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, last time, I walked in on you and San -”

Jacob covers his mouth with wide eyes as he continues to push him out of your front door, Kevin shrinks at the realization that he almost slipped. It had been three weeks since you last met him, since he last reached out to you. The only thing you knew of him was that your mom had called you to tell you that he had finally gotten the promotion he had been desiring for almost a year. Doting over him like she always did. It had gotten worse when the two of you showed up hand in hand at New Year’s last year. You were proud of him. You wanted to hug him and celebrate his achievement in every which way you could. But you meant it when you told him that you didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t trust yourself or your heart when it came to him.

“We love you, call us if you need anything.” Jacob said, sending you a kiss and shutting your front door. You smiled, listening to their bickering out in the hallway, standing there until they were far away and you couldn’t hear them anymore. They were characters, the two of them and even worse when they were together. It was why they were so perfect for one another, they completed one another in every sense of the word and it made you insanely happy, but also sad.

Sometimes you wished, whenever you were alone at night and staring up at your popcorn ceiling that you could have what they had with someone that loved you to the point in which they couldn’t live without you.

It will come, at least that what you told yourself whenever the tears stopped. You just had to be patient.

You were halfway through an episode of the Vampire Diaries, and your fourth slice of pizza when the knocking on your front door sounded. You rolled your eyes, quickly pausing your show and setting down your half eaten pizza slice in the box, before standing up. You obviously weren’t expecting anyone but you figured it was Kevin after getting kicked out again. It was never serious, this game both he and Jacob played. It was some form of twisted foreplay thing they did to keep things interesting. They had explained it to you once when you shared your concern for their relationship. Sometimes you wished you hadn’t asked. You could’ve gone living your life peacefully without knowing the details of their sex life.

“I’m going!” The knocking became more desperate the closer you got to the door, and it confused you. Maybe this wasn’t part of their roleplay fantasies and something had actually happened. It worried you. You could feel it all over your body as you grabbed hold of your doorknob. “Kevin is something wro-” You stopped mid sentence when you swung your door wide open revealing a very drunk and disheveled Sangyeon.

You brought your hand up to your chest, holding onto the necklace his family had given you back in highschool as a graduation present. You never took it off, it brought a sense of comfort whenever you were caught in situations that had your anxiety spiraling out of control. Situations similar to this one.

“What are you doing here?” You step aside to give him room to enter, inviting him in without a shadow of a doubt. You shouldn’t have done that, but the part of you that will always care for him was stronger than the part of you that wanted nothing to do with him.

“We agreed to be together every single holiday season and it’s Valentine’s Day.” He say, his voice slurring slightly at the end, evident that he had consumed more alcohol than what he could handle. “I can’t leave you alone on Valentine’s Day.” He finishes, his voice turning small at the end. He ran a shaking hand through his hair causing it to stand up in different directions as he paced through your living room.

You pressed your hands up to your cheeks, letting the coldness of your palms relieve the heat that had suddenly overtaken your body. “B-But we broke things off, we don’t have to do this anymore.” You drop your hands down and point at him and then at yourself, swallowing the lump that was forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t you have an event at work? What are you doing here?”

Sangyeon looks down, taking his lips in between his teeth, “I didn’t go.” He whispers before raising his head, his eyes welling up with tears as he stuffed his trembling hands into the pocket of his white washed jeans. You swore he didn’t own another pair. “I couldn’t go without you. I-I want to spend Valentine’s Day with you and the rest of upcoming holidays...But I also want to take you out on dates and binge watch shows with you and make love to you and hold you while you sleep. I want to wake up with you in my arms, and kiss you while you’re complaining about morning breath and make you breakfast.” He takes a shuddering deep breath before sitting down on the armrest of your couch, digging his thumb into the palm of his hands. “I just want to be with you forever.” He says, clearing his throat before letting the few tears he had been keeping fall.

“Sangyeon I-” You looked around your living room frantically. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The words that had fallen out of Sanyeon’s lips with ease were the last thing you had expected to ever hear him say. It was everything you had longed to hear him say for almost a year now and you didn’t know how to react. Should you tell him to leave to give you some space to take everything in? Or should you run up to him and kiss with all the love and passion you harbored for him? You were caught at the crossroads. was overwhelming.

Sangyeon scoffed, shaking his head before raising it again, turning his head to focus on your tv, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same way, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and I don’t know when you told me that you were seeing someone. I was so angry at myself for never being able to just confess and hurt that I had been too late.”

The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat. You walked towards him quickly crouching down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “Sangyeon look at me.” You swallowed, placing two of your fingers underneath his chin and guiding his head to face you, finally locking eyes with you. You felt so weak and full of energy, ready to kiss him until the two of you died from lack of air and you wanted to laugh. “We’re so stupid Sangyeon. This entire time I thought you only wanted me for sex while I slowly fell for you and now you’re telling me that you had the hots for me since we were kids...wow.” You smile, swiping your thumb underneath his eyelids wiping away his falling tears. “I’ve loved for a long time. I don’t know when I started to love you. Just that when I realized it I couldn’t stop.”

“‘I’m sorry.” He hiccups, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I’m sorry for what I did at your brother’s reception, but I swear on my grave that nothing happened between us. They were drunk so I called them an uber and walked them to their ride when it arrived.” He confesses, leaning down and circling his arms around your waist, guiding you to stand up.

He rests his forehead against your stomach sighing. “There’s never been anyone else for me other than you. You make me feel so stupid and frustrated sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did that night, like you said I had no right to bud into your love life and being angry is no excuse but I was scared of losing you.” He looks up, his bright eyes pleading. “I’m still scared of losing you.”

You sniffle, bringing your hand up to his head, letting your fingers thread through his already messy hair, “I’m sorry too for lying. Clearly I had no plans.” You laugh lightly, pointing around your living room. “I had somehow convinced myself that lying about seeing someone else would be an easier way to end things, but it hurt so much seeing you leave knowing that there was a possibility I would never see you again.”

Sangyeon laughs, his shoulders shaking gently before he leaves a chaste kiss against your clothed stomach. “Honestly, that would be impossible, we’ve been practically married since the minute we entered this world.” He stands up, towering a couple inches over you, “If I hadn’t come tonight our moms would have forced us to talk sooner or later, I just got a little too drunk and beat them to it.” He presses a kiss against your head before pulling you into a tight hug, sighing happily. “I never want to be without you.”

You nod against his chest, “Will you remember this tomorrow?” It was a thought that had been running through your mind since his confession hit you full force knocking the wind out of your body. Though the few times you had a drunk Sangyeon in your presence he remembered every single tiny detail the next day. This was just your fear taking full charge at the thought of him waking up next to you confused, and walking out again.

He hummed, smoothing his hands down your back. “I’ll write everything that happened down and in detail. I’ll even describe the look on your face when I told you that I loved you. Which by the way have I told you that I love you...a lot.” He teased, leaning back and wiggling his brows.

You leave a light kiss on his chin before pulling away, unraveling his arms from your body. “I love you too.” You walked around him and sat on the couch picking up the remote. “Want to join me?” You tilt your head, your thumb hovering over the play button.

Sangyeon pouts slightly, copying your movements and sitting down next to you. “I haven’t asked you to be my official girlfriend yet.”

“Ask me in the morning, I want you to ask me when you’re sober.” You smile, kissing his lips lightly and wrapping your arm around his waist, leaning your head against his chest.

He makes a sound of approval, placing his arm around your shoulder, “Okay but I have another confession before you press play.”

“What is it?” You press your cheek against his chest before looking up at him confused.

“I already watched this episode, Elena and Damon get into a fight.”

“Don’t they always.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to watch it again.”

You shrug and press play, “Unfortunately, you have infiltrated my Valentine’s Day plans so you’re stuck watching.”

“I did it in the name of love.” He groans, shifting and pulling one of your legs over his lap, holding you closer, as the snarky remarks between the two characters start, sounding loudly through the speakers he had helped install when you first moved into your place three years ago. He almost told you he loved you that day, but then you had put an ice cube down his back and his mind instantly started thinking of ways to get his revenge. His confession hiding away again.

But now it was out in the open and finally he could love you the way he knew he could. The way you deserved.

“And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

#kdiarynet #kpopscape #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz fanfiction #the boyz fanfic #the boyz angst #sangyeon imagines #sangyeon fluff #sangyeon scenarios #sangyeon blurbs

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yutahoes · 3 years

Text

Chances

characters: boyfriend! Yuta Nakamoto x Reader, Shotaro as Yuta’s cousin

word count : 2.5k words

summary : All you wanted was to be in his arms but the worst thing happened.

warning : cheating

genre : angst

This is an anon request where Yuta cheats on Y/N and I know this isn’t the idea you had in mind but it makes me uncomfortable to write a descriptive Yuta cheating scenario. So this deals with the feelings of catching him cheat and I do feel like this is somewhat lacking. I’m sorry and I love you, please don’t hate me. 😣

Being an in-demand photographer had its perks, you can travel to a lot of countries using the reason that you’re working. The downside is that you miss a lot of things, your parents, your friends, and your long-term boyfriend Yuta Nakamoto.

He had been there for you since the beginning, always supporting you and listening to your stories about the sceneries you see and wishing that you’re together. But he’s making his own mark in Japan, his hometown, where you two met years ago.

Now that you were given a week break, there’s only one destination you wanted to go to. Home. To Yuta’s arms.

You took the first flight to Osaka with just one luggage and a few things that you wanted to give Yuta’s family. The way to their home seemed different now but the tingling feeling of seeing him again isn’t new. It’s been months since you last saw each other and you wanted to surprise him. It’s been so long. You just want to be in his arms.

His younger cousin, Shotaro, opened the door and you beamed widely at his surprised face. “Why are you here, Y/N?” He asked and hugged you tight. “Why didn’t Yuta tell me you’re coming?”

“He doesn’t know either.” You whispered then handed him the things you shopped for. “Where is he?” Shotaro shrugged, looking at the bag. “Okaasan? Otousan?”

“They all left and I’m alone once again.” He said with a pout that made you smile. It was Shotaro who introduced you and Yuta together. You were helping him with his Math subject when he introduced his cousin and he acted as a wingman for the two of you. “Do you want to wait for them?”

You shook your head. You’re a bit sleepy. “Do you want to go get some coffee?” He nodded that made you smile, even claiming that there’s a famous coffee shop near town that is good to check out.

You were startled at first when he brought you to the red light district, a number of motels nearby scaring you but he just led the way and showed you a small Renaissance-inspired coffee shop that made you in awe. How can something this pretty be in this place? It wasn’t that full, maybe because of the weird placement of the shop, but it’s cozy.

He ordered for you and you eyed the interior of the restaurant, feeling really bad that you didn’t bring your camera. This will be a great magazine feature. Your gaze fell on the window outside, morning and there weren’t too many people around. You chuckled thinking that the only people you can spot are couples coming out from the motels nearby. Shotaro came back with a latte for you and a cappuccino for him, sitting opposite you. “I’ll tell Yuta that we’re here.” He said before getting his phone out.

A brown-haired guy in black clothes coming out of the motel caught your attention. Yuta? You can’t be mistaken. You knew his shadow, even the ends of his hair. A girl in skimpy clothes followed him outside, holding his arm as the other was holding a phone against his ear. You heard his voice asking Shotaro what it was, the same time the guy you were eyeing was talking to his phone. Even the car that honked in the background is the same one that made Shotaro turn around.

“Shotaro, I’m busy. I’ll call…” But it was Shotaro who dropped the call.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He asked and you nodded, stunned that you discovered him like this. Outside a motel with someone else? “Y/N, let’s go kill my…”

You shook your head. “I’ll get my things from your house. I’ll just call for a hotel.”

“Y/N.” Again, you shook your head. You can’t deal with this now. You wanted to cry but you can’t cry. Shotaro kept asking you if you wanted him to go with you to the hotel but you shook your head, thanking him for not asking about it. “Y/N, maybe Yuta has a reason. He loves you, you know?”

Then why? What was his reason? Why did he come outside the motel, with another girl in his arms? Your relationship is fine, although long-distance, he made sure that you know that he loves you. So why? Is he sick of you?

The cab came, Shotaro helped in putting your luggage inside, when you heard his voice calling out your name. He looked so happy, so relieved that you’re here. But his clothes were the same as earlier, the clothes that the girl held on to. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re coming? Taro, bring out her luggage…”

“No, I’m leaving.” You gave the younger guy a nod and he just smiled at you before heading inside the house. “Why Yuta?”

He gave you a curious expression. “Why what?” He asked, reaching out for your shoulder but you dodged him. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” The tears started welling in your eyes. “Why are you crying?”

Yuta stepped forward but you stepped back. Why isn’t he sorry? “Stop pretending. I saw you outside the motel with a girl. Even Shotaro saw you.” He looked surprised. You actually admired yourself for saying those things even if tears were falling from your eyes. “Why Yuta? Am I not enough?”

“Y/N.” He called, holding your arm. “I’m sorry.” But his voice was cold. All the warmth that was in Yuta’s voice is gone now.

What the others said is right. Relationships are like glass. Once broken, even if you put it together, you’ll still see the cracks. “You’re just sorry because you got caught.” He stared at the dirt on his feet that made you sigh. “Can I please at least know why?” It hurts but you demand to know the truth.

“I’m lonely.” He whispered. “You were far away and I’m stuck here. It made me really lonely, Y/N.” You covered your mouth with your hand to avoid making a choked sob. That’s it? He’s willing to throw away everything just because he’s lonely? “I’m sorry. Please give me another chance. I love you. I want to spend my life with you.” He held both your arms but you just shook him away. “Please. I won’t do it again. I’m stupid, please give me another chance.”

You slipped the promise ring from your finger, handing it to him. “Isn’t that enough reason to stop?” You swat his hand away then opened the door to the cab, sliding in the backseat.

In your hazy vision, you can see Yuta’s image from the rearview mirror getting smaller as the driver took you away from that place. “Are you alright?” He asked and you nodded, smiling while wiping your tears. And you knew, you're just lying to yourself.

It's been months, five months to be exact. You never returned to Japan, the memories hurt you so much to enjoy the scenery of Japan. But it was an in-demand country. A country that your magazine editor liked so much. So you're on the plane ride to Japan, nervous to bump into someone you actually know.

It was like the heavens hated you that the editor wanted you to go to Osaka to take pictures. Of all the places, why there? You're too scared. What if you bump into him?

You met with a local to discuss the booming coffee shops in the district. To your surprise, she suggested the renaissance themed coffee shop where you last went with Shotaro. The same coffee shop where you saw Yuta and another girl. The thing you wanted to do before, to take pictures of the said coffee shop, happened. You were still in awe at how it looked, nothing changed.

"Y/N!" Someone called that startled you. "You're here!" Shotaro hugged you and you smiled widely at him, he's always a ball of sunlight. "It was nice to see you again."

"You too." You whispered then bowed at the editor to excuse you for a second. "How have you been?"

The smile on his face is so contagious that you're suddenly thankful you bumped into him. "Good." You smiled, nodding at him. "It's my birthday tomorrow. You should go to our house and…" He stopped when you sighed. He knew you broke up with his cousin, why is he doing this? "Please. He never talked to me after you left." And that startled you. Yuta and Shotaro had been so close, like real brothers. "And grandma would love to see you again so please, Y/N."

You can't say no. Not when he has those pleading eyes and the wide smile. You nodded which made him cheer in delight. "I'll see you tomorrow Y/N." He said while waving goodbye to you. Once you returned back to your work, a heavy sigh escaped your lips. Damn it, you really can't escape him.

Their house didn't change, that was what you thought. The warmth of both Nakamoto and Osaki families are still reflected outside their home. You realized that this is rather awkward. You shouldn't have come here even if you promised Shotaro. Maybe you can just tell him that…

The door opened and you were startled that it was Yuta who was standing by the doorway. "Hi." He greeted and you gave him a timid smile, "Taro was waiting for you." He opened the door widely, helping you with your coat. "Heads up, they're excited to see you again." You nodded, suddenly feeling betrayed that you were the only one nervous about meeting him again. He seemed alright with all of this.

Anyways, it was you who left him.

He was right. The whole family is excited to see you. Their younger cousin was crying when you entered the dining room, saying that she missed you so much. Their grandmother kept on saying that you grew beautiful and all you could ever do is smile at them. They were attentive to you, even the birthday boy who even had other guests as well. Yuta was just sitting far from you on the table. You're used to having him near you whenever meeting his family so this is a new experience. A bitter reminder that you really end everything with him. "Are you dating someone now?" Shotaro's dad asked and you can see how his wife nudged him then stared at Yuta.

You smiled, shaking your head. "I'm too busy with work lately." They started asking about your job and even your family was brought up. Nothing changed except the fact that you felt that you shouldn't be here at all.

It was nighttime when you decided to leave. Shotaro was playing video games with his friends so you decided not to bother about him. His younger cousin and their grandmother are already sleeping so you thought you can now leave. "It's late." Yuta's dad noted. "Let Yuta walk you to the station."

You shook your head, claiming that it's a short walk but Yuta was already wearing his jacket, saying that he will walk you out since he had to buy Shotaro a present. Typical Yuta. You thanked his family then headed out but he stopped you then wrapped a scarf around your neck. You thanked him quietly, walking awkwardly.

This was the first time you were alone with Yuta after what you witnessed that time, something that you wanted to forget but cannot. "Can we stop by the store real quick?" He asked and you nodded, opening the door for you.

The store hasn't changed, the trinkets and accessories on display still captivating you. Even the owner welcomed you and claimed that it's been a long time since you returned. He was also happy that you're still together but you awkwardly shook your head that made him apologize. Your eyes feast on the hair clips as Yuta walked around the store to maybe get something. You thanked the owner when you left the store, Yuta holding two paper bags.

It was another awkward walk to the bus station which you can almost see. You breathed hard, "I'm fine here." You tried to remove the scarf but he stopped you, claiming that it's all yours now. He handed you the two paper bags, a gift for your parents who you were meeting tomorrow. Why is he even like this? “Yuta...”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You were startled. It held more emotions than the last time you heard the word from him. “I know I messed up. It’s all my fault and I deserve this. I don’t want you to forgive me but I dream of you every night and I hate that the last time I saw you, you were crying because of me.” You only stared. You wanted to say something, just so you can hold a conversation with him. But you honestly don’t know what to say. “When Shotaro said you’re coming, I knew I had to apologize properly.”

“I’ve been insecure. You’re doing so well with your job that I feel like you’re slowly forgetting about me. But that was just me. I masked it as loneliness and did unforgivable things to hurt you and I’m sorry.” You breathed hard when he looked at you straight in the eyes, apologizing once again. “You were right, I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry for saying mean words. I shouldn’t have ended things like that. And I’m glad we had this talk.” He smiled. That lovely smile which made you fall in love with him. But now, you’re not even feeling anything else. Have you fully moved on?

He removed his necklace, handing it to you. The promise ring serving as its pendant. “Please have this. I don’t think I can give this to any other.” You closed your palm and put the necklace inside your pocket, smiling at him. “I’m proud of what you have become. You deserve all the happiness, Y/N.”

His hand on your cheek is warm. “You too, Yuta.” Once again, he smiled then put down his hand on his side. “And please talk to Shotaro.” He chuckled, nodding at you.

The bus came and you watched as he sighed. “Can I hug you?” You nodded and you were enveloped in a warm hug. The hug that you once called your home. The hug that doesn’t belong to you now. “Next time you come to Japan, call me.” You nodded, thanking him for the gifts and the scarf. “Bye, Y/N.”

You smiled, “Bye, Yuta.”

Farewell. Your farewell to your first love. Your farewell to the right love at the wrong time.

You smiled at Yuta’s form watching you enter the crowded bus. A farewell to your true love with the wrong person.

The bus suddenly ran that made you stumble in your balance. You might have fallen down if not for a guy holding you by the waist, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, smiling. And now you knew, you’re not lying to yourself.

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta angst #yuta nakamoto angst #nakamoto yuta angst #cheating yuta

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truglori · 3 years

Text

Homebody (Ch.1)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Durkio Faceclaim

Alexis Faceclaim

Amiyah Faceclaim

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

Warning: language

Kicking off the covers from her legs for the fifth time that night Amiyah flipped over on the left side of the bed relieving herself from pressure that she felt on her right shoulder.

Picking up her phone she saw the time of 12:46 am. It wasn’t the discomfort she felt in her sleep or the extremely warm temperature of her room that woke her up. It was the blaring from her Durkio’s speaker that was gifted to him from himself as an early birthday present. She was cool with it the first couple of times, seeing as she used it as well to play music whenever she wanted to clean her room but this was starting to become annoying.

In the next five hours she had to be up early to open the clothing store she worked at. Durkio likes his music to be played loudly but for some reason tonight it was blasting.

Getting out of bed and slipping on her black UGG Tasman slippers Amiyah went to open the door and was met with the aroma of weed.

“Damn I guess the music isn’t the only thing that’s loud.” She tiredly giggled at her own humor.

Took Her to the O by King Von was the choice of song that woke her from her beauty rest. Shaking her head as she folded her arms she walked down the hall of their shared three bedroom apartment to see the dimmed living room foggy.

Swatting away the smoke she walked closer to the couch preparing to get onto her brother.

“Yo Durk, you know I have to get up for work in a few hours. Can you turn the speakers down or off please?”

Amiyah coughed through almost every word. She didn’t smoke so whenever she inhaled the air would hit her baby lungs causing her to react.

The music level turned down. Finally what seemed like forever the smoke was clearing the living room so she could see the face of her brother...or who she thought was her brother. It was Erik.

Leaning forward he put out his blunt on the ashtray, then he dusted off any remains of falling ashes from his dark grey Nike sweatsuit he rested his elbows on his knees.

Looking up at her with hooded eyes he licked his lips and the famous “sober up wipe” to the face followed after.

“Damn that’s my bad Miyah. I was in here just letting my phone play. I woke you up?” He asked with a small smile.

“Yeah a lil bit but it’s okay.” She spoke in a soft voice that was different compared to the tone she poke in before she found out it wasn’t her brother but her brother’s best friend and also..her crush.

Awkwardly standing there with her arms going back into their folding position making herself feel secured once she cover her tummy she decided to walk to the black leather recliner on the left side of him sitting down. She found herself being really close to him unlike any other times. Inhaling the air she could smell his cologne mix with the weed.

“Um, where’s Durkio?”

“He went out to the car to grab something real quick. He’ll be back.”

Erik got up putting everything that was laid out on the coffee table up. From the bags of weed by the pound to three glock 17s that was sprawled out everywhere. He knew this wasn’t new to her or anything but he wanted to be respectful to his partna’s lil sister. Even though he was the only child he knew that if he did had a baby sister he would want his boys to show the same respect.

Amiyah watched his every move. From the way he gave his sweats a tug around the inner thigh area giving him some room to breathe down there to then observing him pulling up the sweats before he sat down.

There she was doing it again, acting like a little stalker over this man. But she couldn’t help it. She found herself crushing on the best friend of her brother really hard. She was introduced to Erik at the age of seventeen. Just getting out of high school while her brother was already making a name for himself in the streets at twenty-three.

Durkio was coming up from being know for having the best exotics in the hood, some untouchable shit. He started to get more exposure and also more enemies. So along came his homeboy Erik, standing 6’3 and about 225 lbs solid. By the age of twenty-one he was already known to be a problem. Hot headed and a crazy mouth to match but also in a strange way quiet. It was like he knew when to turn it off and on. She notice that whenever she was around the duo he would be barely audible and sometimes completely quiet when she would walk into a room. Taking only glances at her and continued to keep it pushing.

Maybe that’s what she liked about him. Not only did they share the same characteristics when it came to not saying a lot while around others but he also didn’t try to put up a front in front of Durkio. His other homeboys did too much by just talking excessively to her about nothing while trying not to say the wrong thing too her to stay on the good side of her brother.

Amiyah wasn’t the only one doing some studying. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her from the moment she stepped into the living room. He watched the twenty-one year old face turn from hard to soft as soon as she seen it was him in the place of where her brother usually sits.

Even through his hooded eyes he caught her covering her stomach and setting herself up in a defensive position, something he notice she always did when he was around. To Erik it seemed as if she was doing it because she wasn’t comfortable around him so he stopped his eyes from wandering over her body and other times not acknowledging her other than a head nod.

He already knew how his mans Durkio felt about his little sister. He was going to kill whoever did her wrong, let alone even looked at her like they had a problem. In Eriks eyes Amiyah was considered hood royalty. It wasn’t all talk either. A few months ago there was a young recruit that tried to get Amiyah’s number, who clearly wasn’t interested turned him down in the most modest way. Youngin tried to show out in front of his friends and slipped up and called her a fat bitch.

Once word got to Durkio he had the whole hood searching for the kid and when he found him, not only did he have the dude friends jump him my nigga literally fed him a bag of dog shit and made him eat it. Swallowing every drop.

“Yeah nigga you like to talk shit so you gon eat this muthafucka! You lucky I don’t get one of ya own mans to pop yo ass folk!”

Erik shook his head inwardly laughing about how the whole situation unfolded in front of him. Durkio was one crazy ass nigga! That’s why they was best friends though. Their personalities just matched.

Even though Erik to himself wasn’t official in the game a lot of people seem to think so. But that wasn’t the case, to him he felt he was just heavily associated with the ones surrounding it. Guess you can say his name got caught in the wrong mouth and they titled him without knowing the facts. He didn’t care though, he figured people was going to think what they wanted about him anyways so why try so hard to prove them wrong.

“Erik.” Amiyah looked over to seem him leaning back into the couch with his hands in his hoodie pocket. He was smiling to himself about something. She wondered what.

“Wassup.” He answered nonchalantly giving her his undivided attention

“Do you know how long he’s been gone?”

“Oh I’m not sure, I think five minutes or so. You want me to leave or something?” Erik asked on edge ruffling up his dreads a bit not wanting her to feel guarded in her own home.

Truth was Amiyah didn’t care so much about her brother’s whereabouts. She wanted to use these few minutes alone with him to feed her fantasies. Imagining just them two in his home not worrying about Durk busting in on them.

“No of course not. You’re good. I-I was just being nosy.” She tried her best laughing the nerves away while mentally face palming herself for stuttering.

Erik smirk. He could see the quiver in her bottom lip when she spoke. She was trying to hide it but it wasn’t working.

“Nah I feel you. You work tomorrow?” Deciding to spark up some conversation to help her relax with him.

“Yeah I open the store. So I have to be out of here by six in the morning.” Pushing her back against the recliner lifting one leg under the other she made herself cozy.

“Bella Ella Boutique right.”

Her eyes flickering at the fact he knew where she worked.

‘So he must pay attention to me.’

Is what she thought. If it wasn’t for her golden brown skin complexion she would be sure that Erik would know that she is blushing.

Along with a head nod she gave a small smile answering quietly. “Yeah that’s right.” She shifted her eyes not wanting to keep to much eye contact.

“You like working there? How long has it been by the way?” Resting his elbows on his knees once again, facing her, he gave her all his attention.

Placing her hands between her thick thighs to help calm her nerves she put her eye back on him.

“It’s okay...it’s just I wish they would hurry up and hire some new people already. Like I’ve been working so many hours and-“

She stopped mid sentence once she heard him chuckle.

Lightly giggling herself she shook her head. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Erik swiping his bottom lip with his tongue before giving her a small smile.

This was the most he heard her talk this much in a while. Usually she would only say hi and bye and then every now and then ask about her brother but tonight she was keeping conversation like they were friends.

“Why am I funny? What I say?” Curious to know the reason.

“It’s nothing bad mama I just never heard you talk this much before. You be acting mad quiet around me.” Leaning back putting one arm at the top of the couch and resting the other on top of his crotch area.

Amiyah took in his form.

Did he just call me mama?

She couldn’t help catching his nickname.

Hit Different by Sza started playing softly in the background.

“Okay but you can talk to me too. I’m not the only one with a voice Erik.”

“You right and I’m a change that for you. When I come around I’ll start addressing you more. Is that good?” Staring into her soft brown eyes searching for an answer.

Playfully rolling her eyes trying her best to subdue her smile.

“Whatever-“

The front door open revealing her brother. Holding a bag of Burger King eating some fries.

“Aye my bad nigga I had to get sumn to smack on- Miyah fuck is you doing outta bed?” Durkio stop rummaging through the food once he saw her.

Erik scooting down further away from her towards the middle of the couch not trying to give his crazy ass any ideas.

“Uh Durk last time I checked I’m grown.”

He looked at her like she had four eyes.

“Girl you better quit acting like I ain’t raise damn near by myself. You bet get yo ass back in that bed fo’ yo ass miss work then you gon want me to pay you for the hours you miss.” He sat the bag of food down next to the ashtray that held about four roach blunts.

“Nigga she only out here cause I was blasting the music. I woke her up.” Erik winking at her defending her.

Her thighs clenched up at the small action.

I know he did not just make me wet by winking at me?

Of course this was only due to her inexperience. She never got pass kissing a guy and even that she felt needed some work.

Knocking her out of her thoughts her loud brother spoke again.

“Erik I don’t need you sticking up or lying for her and nigga where the fuck my weed at?”

He got up checking the cabinets pulling out a half ounce before looking back to see that his baby sister in the same spot.

“Miyah why you still here?” He asked breaking up the bud.

To people on the outside it may seem like Durkio was a mean brother but he really didn’t mean her any harm. That was just always how he was. He had a rough demeanor, so when he spoke it could come off offensive if you didn’t know him but both Amiyah and Erik knew that was just his mannerism. But all in all he loves his baby sister.

She smacked her lips. “I can’t hang out with y’all?”

“No. Hell is wrong with ‘dis girl?” He asked his friend chuckling.

Erik silently laughing at the bickering siblings. He unwrapped the whopper that he got from the bag before taking a bite while closing his eyes and savoring the grilled burger. Fast food always hit different when he was high.

Shaking her head she decided against arguing back and forth with her brother. She had to get up in a few anyways so it was time for her to head back to bed.

“Whatever I’m going back to bed. Night. Night Erik.” Getting up from the couch making her way out the living room area she turned to look at the duo one last time.

She caught Erik looking her up and down before giving her a head nod acknowledging her and mouthing a good night.

Disappearing in the hall and back into the room she sat on her bed replaying the conversation over and over which brought back the memory of his scent. Somehow she could still smell him as if he was right in front of her.

Smiling to herself she got up checking the time on her Apple Watch on her nightstand that read 1:34 am.

She had a few hours to get some sleep. Taking a last glance at herself in the mirror she realized she still had on her light blue silk bonnet the whole time in front of Erik.

Nooo.

Laughing at the embarrassing thought she shrugged it off before sleep took over her body again.

___________________________________________________

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

Hey guys this is my first story on here. Haven’t wrote in a while and so I just wanted to try it out again just to see if I still have it in me lol. I have a few ideas for this story but I’m not sure...anyways let me know what you guys think. Constructive criticism is allowed here.

P.s If I tagged you I probably read your work or I just want to see if you would be interested in this story. If you don’t like it I can take you off so sorry if you might not be interested.

Please excuse any mistakes if there are any. Thanks!!

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @artisticestheticreads @uzumaki-rebellion @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @thiccdaddy-mbaku @curls-and-crosses @madamslayyy @goddessofthundathighs @eriksjournal @erikslulbaby @wakandamama @wawakanda-btch @wakandas-vibranium @wakandaforeverwrites @ghostfacekill-monger @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink

#erik killmonger #erik stevens #Erik smut #black panther #Erik x plus size reader #Erik x thick OC #homebody #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #truglori

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themaribatpit · 3 years

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Saturday Challenge: Double Crossover

Written by: The Maribat Pit Prompt: Double Crossover Rated: M rating just to be safe (sexual references, mostly because of some very unsavory things Lila thinks and implies about Marinette.) Marinette x Jason Phantom of the Opera (specifically Hush Jason, from 2020′s Death in the Family).

A/N (Maribat fangirl): There is going to be a lot of class salt, Lila salt and some heavy duty character bashing. I’m going to be upfront, there’s characters being called harlots. A/N (DC fanboy): My S.O. and I pretty much did karaoke while writing this.

Paris, 1875. Marinette worked in her parents bakery, while she loved her family dearly, she was dissatisfied with her current lot in life. She wished to become a singer, and everyday as she walked in the streets of Paris to bring flour to the bakery, she would stop and stare at the Conservatoire de Paris. The enchanting music and singing could be heard even in the streets.

Listening to music always reminded her of her favourite fairy tale told by her father, the one about ‘Angel of Music’. She would sit on the street across the Conservatoire, close her eyes and listen to the beautiful music emanating from it. Once she tried to sing along, but passersby would be swift to yell at her to stop. They described her voice sounding like a rusty hinge.

Upon her 15th birthday, her parents presented to her a once in a lifetime opportunity. They had presented her with an approved application to the Conservatoire, they had saved enough money for tuition and would be sending her there to chase her dreams as an opera singer. Marinette held her parents tightly, thanking them constantly for the amazing opportunity.

That night, Marinette was unable to sleep, she was beaming with energy and excitement. She could not believe how her luck was changing, how she would be going to the musical academy of her dreams.

The next morning however she would be in a nervous panic for her first day of lessons. Running about the home, getting prepared, packing her bags. She even forgot to eat breakfast, she ran out the door with a croissant in her mouth, much to the chagrin of her parents.

However, her dream academy soon became a waking nightmare to her. She would be tormented daily by all her peers, especially one Lila Rossi, the prima donna of the academy. Every professor would sneer at her low birth, and did nothing when the others tried to sabotage her standing at the Academy. She tried to keep her head held high, even as everyone else looked down on her for being a baker’s daughter. Marinette ignored the comments and rumours about how she was able to attend the prestigious academy. Rumours that she dared not repeat, about how she and her parents must be criminals if they were able to afford to send her to the academy.

It wasn’t enough for her to be stuck in the chorus, Lila Rossi wanted to make sure her place as prima donna of the academy was ironclad. A couple of the teachers felt that she was growing more temperamental, more complacent, and their eyes began to wander for a dancer to take her place. The other dancers were unwilling to take her place, all except for Marinette, who saw it as a shining opportunity. For Lila, this simply would not stand.

The one time Marinette found a pair of scissors that had been used to cut the laces on her pointe shoes. The same scissors that were missing from her sewing box days earlier. She decided that the time had come to confront Lila once and for all.

Marinette confronted her just before rehearsals began, scissors in hand, in front of everyone. “Is it true?” she called, everyone turned to look at them.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Lila gasped. She looked down to see her wearing her worn out slippers, before looking back up at her face. “You do know you’re meant to be wearing your toe shoes now, right? The show is in a few days.” she reminded her.

“I do,” she breathed, “I also know it was you, you’re the one who cut the laces on my pointe shoes.”

Lila gasped and stepped back, everyone else was shocked by the accusation. She looked away for a moment, and squeezed her eyes shut. Marinette knew the trick well from their acting classes at the academy, she was getting ready to make it look like she was crying. “Why? Why would you accuse me of something like this?” she made sure her voice wavered as she spoke, “what reason do I have to sabotage a background dancer’s shoes?”

Marinette knew she had lost the battle before it had even begun, every dancer would move to protect Lila and her crocodile tears. Lila was the prima donna, the daughter of a diplomat, and she had the entire academy in the palm of her hand. “Perhaps there was some mistake,” she muttered, walking away from her classmates rushing to defend Lila’s fake tears. It was useless trying to explain that the scissors were stolen from her, and that this was an elaborate setup. It was her word against Lila’s, as the directors tried to command the dancer’s attention, Marinette ran.

Once again, she tried to keep her head held high, it wasn’t as if anyone would believe her when she told them about Lila’s machinations. She made a habit of keeping her costumes and pointe shoes hidden. On occasion bringing them home whenever she visited her parent’s bakery, somewhere that little saboteur would not even think to look for them.

Months later, tragedy struck again when she received a letter informing her that her parent’s bakery had been burned. Her parents, her hopes, her dreams all burned to ash in one night. It was made worse by the fact that one rehearsal, Lila snatched the letter out of her hands and read it aloud for the entire company of dancers and singers to hear. She assumed that it would be some kind of love note, probably preparing to spread rumours about Marinette sneaking off into the night with a mystery lover. Instead, Lila simply made a show of pitying Marinette, “poor thing, it’s worse than I thought. Unless you can find a patron to support you, your days at the academy are going to be numbered.”

Just as the theatre managers had arrived, Marinette fled, keeping her head down as tears were welling up in her eyes and blurring her vision. Since the day she arrived she had been mocked, humiliated, tormented simply so that one girl could have the adoration and sympathy of her fellow performers. Through all the salacious rumours and lies, she tried her best to ignore them and carry herself through it all. The loss of her parents, their bakery, and now Marinette’s hopes and dreams, it was all too much to bear.

Marinette ran to an empty music room to cry her heart out, she sat right against the wall, knees curled up to her chest and sobbed into her legs. In this state of absolute despair, she began to sing a song of her favourite fairy tale that her father would sing to her whenever she had a nightmare. She sang a soft, painful prayer for the Angel of Music and a farewell to her lost parents. “Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say goodbye…”, her singing was hoarse, off key, full of sorrow.

The more she sang, the harder she cried. Soon to the point that she could not complete the song. However, a disembodied voice sang the remaining verse for her. Marinette paused from her crying to look for the voice, it felt as if it came from everywhere and nowhere. It was hypnotising, elegant, enchanting. She walked out of the music room to try to find the source of the singing.

“Come to me, Angel of Music.” The voice sang, in a smooth tenor voice, luring Marinette as if she was a moth attracted to a flame. The voice led her to a musical hall, reserved only for the academy’s annual showcase. She turned the door knob, to her surprise, the door was unlocked. She peeked her head through the door to see a cloaked figure playing the organ, the source of the enchanting voice. “Insolent girl, this slave of fashion. Basking in your glory.” The figure angrily sang “Ignorant fool, this prima donna.”

“Angel of Music, is that you?” Marinette tentatively asked the figure. The figure stopped playing, and turned around to face her. Marinette was taken aback by the figure, he was a tall man, wearing a red mask on the left side of his face. Another distinctive feature other than his magnificent voice was the white streak of hair and piercing green eyes.

“You are unlike any of the fools in this academy. You did not join this academy for fame or fortune. No, you came here because of your love of music.” The figure told her. He took a deep breath and composed himself, straightening his jacket. Then he raised an arm, reaching out to Marinette. “I am your Angel of Music, come to me Angel of Music.” Marinette walks forward and accepts the Angel’s hand, thus beginning their first musical lesson together.

Marinette’s talent and ability in music skyrocketed with her extra-curricular lessons. Her mysterious patron was also the one continuing to fund her education at the academy. Meanwhile, no one else had the time to spread rumours about Marinette, not when there were rumours of a ghost haunting the Conservatoire.

Unbeknownst to Marinette, she was the key to establishing control over a very profitable endeavour for her mysterious patron. The managers were being extorted to the tune of 20,000 francs and requested that box five remain open. This money was nothing to them, especially when the sons and daughters of the wealthy and powerful were attending. Very few had seen Jason’s face, and if they did, they would draw back in fear. It was the result of a boyhood accident that left him changed and altered in more ways than one. Taking control of the Conservatoire was merely the first step in taking control of an entire city. This girl, Marinette, was the key to captivating their attention. She would hold their attention and adoration as the rising star of the academy, drawing their eyes away from his growing influence and power. Using talents and potential that they had cast aside, twisting their own hubris against them.

Months later, everyone in the academy worked towards its annual showcase for its patrons, the nobility and all family members of its students. Lila had grown bored of tormenting Marinette, and had moved on to other victims. She had her other dancers and singers wrapped around her little finger, and all eyes would be on her at the annual showcase.

At last the day of the annual showcase had arrived, Lila sat at her personal preparation room, after all she would be the star of the show. She walked over to her wardrobe and opened it, she then screamed in horror to see her dress tattered and in pieces.

In the days leading to the showcase the Director of Conservatoire de Paris had received threatening letters demanding 20,000 Francs, box 5 to remain vacant and worse of all to replace Lila Rossi with some baker’s daughter. Director Bourgeois scoffed at the threats, tossing the letter away.

The next day during the rehearsal for one of the ballet numbers, students and teachers paid no mind to the threats that were outlined in the letter. Until one of the dancers looked up and gasped in horror. The other dancers looked up to find the stagehand hanging from the rafters. The theatre soon bursts into screams of fear as they all see the dead body of the stagehand. Director Bourgeois ordered all faculty members and students present to remain silent of the murder. This prestigious institution could not afford such a scandal this close to such an important showcase. As the Director inspected the body, he found a letter titled to him attached to the corpse of a stagehand.

Director Bourgeois read the second letter with shaky hands, it read “Monsieur Bourgeois, good day to you. It seems you did not take my threat seriously. I present to you this corpse to show my sincerity. I see you have a young daughter, pray that no harm would befall her. I shall reiterate my demands, 20,000 francs, box five remain vacant and Mademoiselle Marinette shall replace the harlot Lila Rossi.”

Director Bourgeois collapsed into his chair, wiping his sweat. Until he heard a scream from outside his office. He ran out as fast as he could to see Lila Rossi confronting Marinette. Crocodile tears flowed from Lila’s eyes as she accused Marinette of sabotage, purposefully doing so in front of the Director's office.

“How could you Marinette?” Lila wailed, “Whatever your reasons, how could you do this to me? To the Conservatoire?”

Marinette merely said “Lila, don’t you stay in a private room with guards patrolling the hallway outside?” She shrugs, “I was in my dormitory last night. Besides, how could anyone sneak into your room at night, unless they were a phantom?”

Director Bourgeois goes pale at Marinette’s implication, he had to intervene quickly, before the situation got worse. He attempted to placate Lila, “Now now mademoiselles, I can’t punish anybody unless we have solid evidence. As the saying goes ‘the show must go on.’ Signora Rossi, as you are currently unable to perform, I’m afraid Mademoiselle Marinette will have to take your place.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the offer given to her, she could not believe it. Director Bourgeois himself offered her the star role for this year’s showcase. It is all as her Angel of Music said would happen. She accepted the role wholeheartedly and thanked the director profusely, she skipped back to the musical hall to begin rehearsals, now as the main lead.

Lila’s jaw dropped to see the director siding against her, how he gave away her role to that peasant without any hesitation. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, she stomped her way back to her bedroom to begin scheming the ultimate humiliation for Marinette. She was so distracted with her rage, she had not noticed a shadowy figure following her.

Lila planned to show the entire Opera house just who Marinette was, little more than a filthy peasant who got lucky. She was supposed to have packed her bags and left months ago, after her parents and their pathetic little bakery burned down. “This Opera Phantom had a lot of nerve calling me a harlot, when Marinette is probably his little harlot.” she muttered harshly in the darkness. She searched the costume room for the lead actress’ dress, a long flowing gown that brushed against the floor. It was made with the finest fabrics that money could buy, it almost broke Lila’s heart to sabotage it. She would rather die than see it worn by some peasant girl, a pretender, a talentless sham of a performer. Before she can lay hand on the dress to destroy it, a gloved hand reaches out and grabs her by the wrist. A voice interrupts her, “What do you think you are doing with that?”

Lila slowly turns around to see a grotesque figure staring at her. In the candlelight, she was horrified by the person she saw. The left half of his face was severely burned, almost completely disfigured. His bright green eyes flared with a fury that genuinely terrified Lila as the figure glared at her. She immediately drops everything and screams, as she runs out the door as fast as her legs would carry her, wailing and screaming how the ghost is trying to kill her. “He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera!” she wails as he chases her down. The Phantom pursues his prey. Just as Lila runs around a corner, the ghost is there waiting for her. She gives another horrified scream, falling to the floor and trying to crawl in the opposite direction. “No no no, please don't kill me!” She begged as tears blurred her vision.

Her howls and pleas of mercy attract nearby students, teachers and guards. They all arrive to see Lila screaming like a maniac on the floor, alone and raving about some ghost hunting her down. “The ghost is real! He is real I tell you! He’s going to kill me!” she sobbed. As Lila was being escorted out of the academy, gossip spread like wildfire. Within hours everyone would be talking about how Lila had lost all of her sanity because of the ghost.

They had no other choice at that moment, the show had to go on. If they wanted the night to go smoothly, with no one noticing anything strange or peculiar, they had to meet the Phantom’s demands. Marinette stood there, centre stage, with all of Paris’ most influential in the audience. She began to sing her show stopping aria.

As she glided across the stage and looked out into the audience, her eyes searched for the man in the red mask. She liked to imagine her Angel of Music beaming at her with pride, without him, she would still be that sad little girl crying in the music room. She sang as loudly and as clearly as she could, hoping that her voice would pierce the heavens clearly enough for her mother and father to hear.

As she reached her crescendo, she peaked with an E6. Her voice echoed across the entire hall with the sharpness and perfection of a veteran soprano singer. The audience collective dropped their jaws at the spectacle. Marinette ended her aria with a bow, and the theatre erupted with a thunderous round of applause.

Jason watched from his seat in box five, with a self satisfied smile on his face. From that day forth, he would see to it that all eyes were on her.

#maribat lila salt #jasonettejuly2021 #jasonette #maribat #ml x dc #maribat class salt

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buckyjamess-archive · 3 years

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𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 ❁ 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

chapter seventeen • a/n: thank the sudden burst of inspiration for these chapters coming out so fast. Feedback is appreciated! • wordcount: 1.5k+ • warnings: kids, parenthood, nothing more?

summary

going through rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.

masterlist

F O U R M O N T H S L A T E R

"I'm running a little late today, so I won't be home in time but I asked Steve to be there to open up–" a heavy sigh "for the love of god, try to be nice buck, that's all I'm asking, okay? Also, can you let me know if you're staying for dinner so I can pick up something extra on my way back– thank you. Okay..bye, love you."

love you. Bucky never expected to keep hearing those words falling from your lips but he does– after every call, every voicemail, every goodbye and see you soon. It makes him smile yet he doesn't deserve those two words.

you had assured him that morning after that you would always love him no matter what; that he's still the father of yet another gift in your life. The best months of your life after a shit show of years prior– you'd always love Bucky even if he broke your heart in a million pieces, he seemed to be the only one to put it back together..or steve. Steve did a pretty good job of glueing shattered parts of your heart back together.

It angered bucky. Coincidentally; Steve rogers marriage came to an end not two weeks after you'd moved into your own little place with the kids and for a split second Bucky had wondered if nothing ever happened between you and Steve during the time he suspected something. But he believed you. Nothing had happened, never and though Bucky still had to get used to Steve being around more and more each day, he knew he could trust the blonde.

You seem happy with Steve and unlike you and him, things between Steve went slow, taking time. No moving in three weeks after or by each other's side everyday and you certainly didn't let the man straight into Rosie and JJ's life.

A break..of sorts and maybe he'd gotten his hopes up and believed it actually could get better with time; get back together and be that little family again but as time passed by, it became all too clear– you really didn't plan on getting with him again and Bucky couldn't even blame you.

But you still let him into your life, let him be a part of your life. A part of Rosie's life..of JJ. You let Rosie stay with him whenever she wanted to, let her stay the night or a couple of days until the girl wanted to get back home again. Got to see his son nearly everyday and have him all weekends. 'I'd never take away your kids, buck'

Invitations to stay for dinner or spend the evening or to tag along with one of your day outs– all too eager to spend all the time he could with what once was his family, even if it meant spending time with Steve.

You still took care of bucky, you still loved bucky because the man who broke your heart made you believe in love again, pulled you out of your shell after years of wanting to be alone. Took care of you during your darkest days, stayed by your side when you needed him the most. Gave Rosie a father figure she never had the opportunity to get, gave you another little soul to take care of. Bucky Barnes stole, bruised and broke your heart and till this day manages to glue it back together.

It took you a while to forgive him, you're still not sure if you actually have. With the loan you got from your new part time job at the store around the corner, you managed to get yourself a small two bedroom apartment not too far away from bucky– following most classes from your new study online and still being able to be there for your babies; if you were being honest, life was good.

The family wilson being back in your life being the icing on the cake. Sam being to eager to apologise for everything he'd said and done although 'I told you so'– first flight to Brooklyn and before you knew it the family stood in your apartment, unpacked boxes and painted rooms as if their lives depended on it; be there for you like they were after riley– family. Hailey even spent the better part of her summer in Brooklyn by your side to catch up while in all honesty, she got tired of her dad and needed some time alone.

Life was surprisingly good after everything.

"Dad?"

Snapping out of his daydream, Bucky looks up and meets the eyes of the little girl in the rear view mirror. The braid bucky had managed to braid that morning an untangled mess, hanging from her shoulder. Left overs of a chocolate cookie still visible on the corner of her mouth. Yellow shirt covered in dirt, paint and what else she'd been playing in and with at school.

Bucky hums and types a quick text to you, telling you he'd stay over for dinner "What's up?"

"Can alpine come with me sometime?" Rosie asks seriously, a hint of hope in her voice.

"I wish he could sweetheart but mom's not allowed to have any pets," Bucky chuckles "He misses mommy, right?"

"I don't know, he can't talk silly."

"Really then why does alpine talk to me every night?" Bucky quips back "he tells me how you steal the last cookies from the cookie jar."

"That was JJ– when are mommy, me and JJ coming back home, I want my own bedroom again."

Bucky clears his throat and quickly gazes to the little boy fast asleep in his carpet on the backseat and back to Rosie, Bucky swallows the lump in his throat.

You tried to explain it all but the 4 year old never seemed to be able to understand any of it; the two times Christmas, two birthdays not working.

"I don't know princess," Bucky admits "whenever mommy is ready."

which is never

Heavy footsteps echo against the grey stone walls of the short hallway, doors with small white numbers glued onto the wood– Steve isn't much taller or shorter, maybe a bit broader but nothing to be afraid of and yet bucky finds himself tiny next to the man, intimidated to say the least- black leather jacket over a simple grey shirt clung around his biceps, long legs...intimidating but with the softest facial features, christ bucky didn't have any reason to feel this way around someone You deemed important.

If anything, Steve was as awkward as him.

Twirling around the hallway, her pink and purple colored bag bouncing up and down her back and her messy braid flying through the air, Rosie stills at the sight of the men walking their way

"You're late."

"I know, kid," Steve chuckles lowly "tried to be faster."

"Well, you should be faster next time." Rosie simply states.

Steve nods his head towards bucky with a slight smile which bucky returns and without another word, Steve twirls the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door with the faint 9 on it.

Rosie storms in, nearly tripping over her own feet as she pulls her backpack off and throws it in the corner with all other shoes, bags and umbrellas.

The man nods again as Bucky pushes the stroller with JJ through the door. The familiar smell of you lingering in the air and fills his nostrils. He ignores the footsteps behind him. Bucky pushes his son further into the kitchen where he picks JJ out and sets the little man on the floor. Bucky's not even able to say another word, his son zooming off on all fours, going straight to the box filled with toys near the couch in the living room.

"I was told to hand you the keys." Bucky's eyes shoot up to Steve, your keys dangling between his thumb and index finger– Steve clears his throat.

Casually folding the stroller back before standing up straight, bucky nods and holds his hand out.

Your keys, not Steve's. Great, he's not at that base yet.

"y/n asked if you wanted to bathe the kids," Steve clears his throat once again and shifts his weight from one foot to the other "so she can start with dinner when she's back."

"Yeah, sure." Bucky mumbles almost inaudibly, calm and collected, through his stomach drops as Steve nods and strides his way to your bedroom and comes back out with a black overnight bag hanging from his shoulder; rogers printed on the fabric.

so, he's at that base already

"So, yeah– I should head back out. Work and all." Steve breathes out a laugh.

Placing both hands on his sides, Steve looks back to the living room where Rosie and JJ crawled and played around the coffee table.

"Bye rosie," Steve waves awkwardly and with no answer back, he looks back at bucky with a slight smile and nervous chuckle "kids, right."

"Yeah," Bucky deadpans, not batting an eye at the men in front of him "kids."

Bucky doesn't have the right to feel jealous, he screwed things up and not you but he still loves you with all his heart and he'll be damned if he didn't at least try to gain back your trust and maybe even woo you back in his life– Steve stands in the way of just that.

Taglist: @farfromshawn @Nicollettemarie @wooya1224 @felicityofbakerstreet @agentmstark @sierrax023 @lilyevanswhore @qhbr2013 @buckybarnesobsessed @themaddies-obx @aloserwithoutacause @aanngie @sebby-staan @sweetth1ng @starrystarkey93 @libidinexx @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @gasly-kvyat @brown-bi-beautiful @peter-laufeyson @im-squished @meshlababy @lindseyrae20 @cb97skies @qwccrr @ssprayberrythings @yougottalovefandoms @jbcalway @realgaytrash @natyvwe @poetryazenth @winterberryfox @ahahafudge @okiegirl24 @0moondoodler0 @why-wait-4-eventually

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #rosie and i*

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

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three french horns -> three goal horns | n. mackinnon

a/n: and like clockwork, here is fic number three in my 12 days of christmas series! i wrote this one a while ago and i hurt myself re-reading it to proof it, so i hope you all like it! rest of the christmas series linked here.

word count: 4,037

warnings: alcohol, drinking

“Hey, Nate?” you called out from the living room when you heard the back door open, signaling his reappearance in the house after letting the dogs outside.

“Yeah, baby?” he asked as he stomped his boots on the mat, shaking the last bit of the early Denver snow off.

You asked the question you’d been asking him since two weeks after his birthday, the same question you’d been asking a variation of for the three months before his birthday. “Nate, what do you want for Christmas?”

The sound that left Nate’s mouth was barely human, a groan coming from deep within, from the place that never knew what he wanted for any major gift giving holiday of any kind. You tried to be original, get sentimental things, but it was hard to buy for someone who could literally buy anything they ever wanted. Nate didn’t have big, expensive wishes, so if he wanted something, he often just bought it on the spot and you were none-the-wiser until it showed up at his house. This penchant, this bad habit, carried throughout the holiday season; it was a perpetual state of being for Nathan MacKinnon. This meant that items Nate ordered for himself were as likely to show up December 24th as any other day of the year, which was eternally infuriating as a person in his life trying to buy him gifts on the semi-regular basis.

“I don’t know,” he answered you, like he did every other time. “I’ll like it because it’s from you.”

That response was sweet the first, second, and half-sweet the third time he’d used it on you. Now, that response was worn out like an old pair of jeans, with holes in the thighs and the knees hanging together by a thread, absolutely unusable at this point in time really. Yet Nate continued to say it, like that string of seven words didn’t light a fire in your stomach completely unlike the kind crackling under the stockings on the mantle right now.

“Nate,” you groaned, all too similarly to how he had when you asked your question. Spend enough time with a person and you pick up their habits. You and Nate were a completely unoriginal example of that. “You know I hate when you say that.”

Nate rolled his eyes and shrugged, “Well, I don’t really know. A hat trick? But you can’t get me that, I’ve got to get that for me.”

The infamous illusive hat trick. While it wasn’t those dreaded seven words, you were pretty sure you had heard about this hat trick that was alluding him every other day at this point. In all fairness to Nate, the amount of times he had scored twice in the first two periods of a game this season and been held off the scoreboard in the second was absurd. Commentators were joking about it, his teammates were chirping him over not one, not two, but three missed empty netters that would’ve sealed it, even though Nate liked to say those didn’t really count as hat tricks. Greater than all of that, Nate was starting to incredibly frustrated with himself and his performances. You knew Nate was a competitive guy before you even went on your first date with him, but his competitiveness ran deep and honestly you weren’t sure your relationship would work if you were even an ounce more competitive than you were. Nate had to win, he had to achieve his goals. This goal was quite simply just three goals, but it continued to be just out of reach this season and coming up on the holiday season, pushing the halfway mark, Nate was starting to think it might not happen this year.

“You’ll get one, Nate,” you sighed. “You’re so close and you’re too good not to get whatever you put your mind to.”

“I got a good feeling about the game tomorrow,” he replied, sliding up next to you on the couch to throw a Christmas sweater-covered arm around your shoulders. “My good luck charm is going to be there, right?”

Nate wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but he said he always scored more whenever you came. Statistically, a complete lie, but it made you feel special all the same. He kissed your temple softly as he relaxed into the couch cushions next to you.

“So, what are we watching? Classic or trashy Christmas?”

That question itself somehow encapsulated every single reason you loved Nathan MacKinnon, despite his pension for buying his own Christmas presents, his overly competitive nature, and the difficulty that came with trying to buy him a present. Nate didn’t love Christmas movies; he wasn’t a hater like some people you’d dated before, but you adored them, both classic and trashy alike. Nate jumped on board with whatever you liked, no questions asked. He always said you didn’t sign up to date all of his teammates that walked through the door scrounging for homemade food or the long hours alone, the least he could do was be as supportive of the things you liked as you were about hockey for him. Nate’s support came in casual, steady waves of constantly and consistently showing up, no matter how tired he was, no matter how long the day before had been. He might fall asleep twenty minutes into the movie, but Nate was here and active and present for as long as he could stay awake. He’d cross deserts and move mountains for an hour with you, and some days that’s what it took, but Nate showed up and jumped on board, which made him the easiest person in the world to love in spite of everything else. It made him the only person you wanted to spend this Christmas and every other one in the future with.

The next day, with his last name on your back and a Santa hat on your head, you found yourself in a position that felt all too familiar this season. You were watching the ice with eager eyes among the other wives and girlfriends. Your breath caught in your throat halfway through the first when you saw two seconds after him that there was nothing between Nate and the net but open ice and a goaltender. You slowly stood up, leaning forward as if those all important inches would help you see the ice better. You didn’t miss the puck sailing over the blocker’s side of the goaltender, or the eruption of cheers from everyone around you as the goal horn rang out, hopefully the first of three for Nate this evening. Mel hugged you, as if you had anything to do with Nate scoring. You adjusted your hat, pulling at the fluffy white edge until it sat a little less haphazardly on your head as you cheered.

“Two more, right?” Mel waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes.

“For my sake, I hope so,” you laughed.

Going into Christmas break without this elusive hat trick meant the next four days would be spent with Nate’s mind half at the rink, trying to scheme and plan and game his way into a hat trick, as if the part he was missing was anything other than luck. Maybe he didn’t need regular luck though, maybe just a little bit of Christmas would do the trick tonight. Your third beer in, a vain attempt to calm your nerves with alcohol, and five minutes into the second, on the power play, you watched as Nate easily sailed in his second goal of the game from the high slot, causing the ever familiar cheers and the ringing of the Avalanche goal horn to sound out across the arena.

Two down, and hopefully one to go.

“Hatty watch,” one of the other girls sang out from behind you, giving your shoulders a squeeze.

You let out a loud, long breath, causing a wave of laughter to ripple across the other women around you. Mel teased you about it; they all did. Nate’s quest was well known among the group, something they were equally supportive and teasing about.

“He’ll get one,” Mel assured you with a comforting pat to your leg. “He’s too good not to.”

You really thought he had it. You watched as Mikko and Nate peeled off from the defenders caught on an odd change, leading to a two-on-one with a lone opposing forward doing his best, but poor, impersonation of a defensemen. Mikko passed the puck to Nate, which Nate passed back easily and set himself up for the perfect slap shot on the return. The quick passing had sent the other team’s player sprawling over the ice. It was just Nate and the goaltender, who was frantically shifting his eyes from Mikko to Nate, tilting back and forth on the ice. Mikko’s pass was perfect, right on the middle of Nate’s tape and Nate was ready for the pass. It was tracking high glove side, exactly where Nate wanted it to go, right into the back of the net. The goalie was facing Mikko, two key seconds behind the actual action. Except out of nowhere, the Grinch stole Christmas and Nate’s hat trick when the goalie’s glove suddenly appeared in the path the puck was taking and wrapped around the puck, just on the wrong side of the goal line for Nate.

The referee blew the whistle and signaled no goal. Nate’s hands dropped down, stick hanging low. His head tilted up toward the ceiling of the arena and you could practically hear the groan rise from deep in his chest. It was absolute robbery at its finest and the entire arena knew luck wasn’t on Nate’s side that night. You slumped down into your seat, preparing yourself for yet another two goal game and a frustrated Nate waiting for you in the tunnel when it was over. There were another twenty minutes left in the game, but if the first half of the season had taught you anything, third periods weren’t where Nate racked up anything other than wins and assists, both of which he loved, but he just wanted a third goal, just once. Mikko and Gabe each having one already this season, all six goals involving Nate as either the primary or secondary assist, didn’t help either.

“I think you need to pray or something,” Mel told you with a laugh. “Pray to anything and anyone out there at this point.”

You cleared your throat and looked up at the ceiling of the Pepsi arena, “Santa, I know this isn’t how you take requests,” Mel and the girls around you were already laughing, “but please, pretty freaking please, can we just get some Christmas miracle magic vibes in here? It’s all he wants for Christmas. Please and thank you and I hope you have a Merry Christmas.”

“Are you supposed to say amen if you pray to Santa?” someone behind you asked.

“Look I’m not opposed to it,” you sighed. “It just didn’t feel like the right ending when I was asking for a Christmas miracle.”

The girls all laughed and you just stared up at the ceiling. Maybe Santa might grant your unorthodox request delivered via an even more unorthodox method. Maybe you should’ve written him a letter and dropped it into one of those charity red mailboxes at Macy’s. Maybe Nate just wouldn’t be getting the one thing he wanted for Christmas and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. You knew he was joking when he asked for a hat trick for Christmas, but joking or not, it was the only thing he even sort of mentioned wanting. If sending out a Christmas wish audibly in the middle of the Pepsi arena was what it took, you were more than happy to do it.

You grabbed your fourth and fifth beer together during the intermission, knowing full and well that you didn’t want to miss a second of one of Nate’s shifts in case something good happened. If after all of this time, all of this waiting, all of Nate’s back and forth debating, if you missed his hat trick goal because you were grabbing another beer, you would have to guess that higher powers didn’t exist and the hockey gods loved laughing at you and maybe Christmas wasn’t that magical after all.

The third period was half over when you finished your fourth beer. Your right leg had been bouncing on the concrete since the period started. Nate was getting some good looks, and added another assist to his point tally for the night, but you and everyone knew what he actually wanted tonight. A slashing call with eight minutes to go put the Avalanche back on the power play, and you knew Nate was going to fight to play every bit of those two minutes he could get, which meant you were about to be in for a mentally exhausting two minutes. Mel offered her hand to you, already knowing you would need her to ground you through this.

The first shot on the power play from Mikko ended up in the opposing goaltender’s glove. Nate lined up for the next face-off and you swore you didn’t breathe as soon as the puck left the referee's hand. Nate swept it back easily to a waiting Gabe. You gripped Mel’s hand hard, grateful you both did this for each other often enough that she didn’t mind. Nate slid up through the low slot and you saw the stars aligning as Gabe sent the puck perfectly in Nate’s direction. Nate was already ready for it when it came, the puck on his stick for less than a second. Your eyes went wide and you felt like you were about to break Mel’s hand as the goaltender shrugged his shoulder up to block Nate’s shot, but he came up short and the puck hit the back of the net.

You were screaming as you jumped to your feet, arms wrapping tightly around Mel as someone else hugged you from behind, again like you’d done anything other than practically give yourself a heart attack watching it. Nate was surrounded by his teammates on the ice, earning a swift pat on the top of the head from Gabe. A glance up at the Jumbotron showed you the wide, bright smile on his face, filling with relief and absolute joy. Mel grabbed your hat by the pom pom and chucked it down towards the ice, making you laugh and a smile that rivaled Nate’s come across your face.

“Finally,” you breathed out a sigh of relief as the arena calmed itself, calming you with it.

You plopped back down into your seat, hatless with half a beer and your pride in Nate left to coast you through the next ten minutes. You knew Nate was going to be in a good mood, and you just wanted to get through the next ten minutes of the game to get to him and congratulate him yourself. The score was heavy in favor of the Avs and they weren’t in any danger of losing this game, so you got to drink your beer and let out a long breath you’d been holding since Nate first came home after back to back two goal games in October without a hat trick in sight.

You were practically bouncing on your heels as you waited in the tunnel for him, fingers fussing with the frayed edge of your denim jacket to get out some of your anxious energy. The second he rounded the corner, a wide, gorgeous smile on his face, you ran toward him. Nate wasn’t the type for large public displays of affection, but satisfaction from your incredibly competitive boyfriend was a hell of an influencer and he opened his arms wide for you. You jumped into him and he stumbled a second before catching you easily, one hand guiding your legs around his waist, the other supporting the back of your thighs.

“Congratulations,” you mumbled in his ear as he laughed at your openly shared excitement for him.

“Thanks, baby,” he told you, the smile he was wearing evident in his voice.

“Proud of you always,” you reminded him as you untucked your head from his neck.

You said it after every single game, win or lose, five points or no points, goal or no goal, you told Nate you were proud of him after every single game. The stats sheet didn’t matter to you. You loved him and you saw the grueling work he put in every single day, every single second he was on the ice. You were proud of him no matter what, and it was one of the thousands of reasons he had come to love you for. Your support, your pride in him and the work he put in never wavered. It was steadfast, something hard to come by in a life as crazy as he lived. You were his rock, his home, and he felt it like the gradual, comforting warmth from sitting by the fire on Christmas Eve, when the world seemed a little more good than it actually was, when you told him you were proud of him.

Nate smiled as he pressed a soft, quick kiss to your lips before gently guiding your feet back to the ground. He pulled you in tighter, collapsing you into him as he let out a long breath that had been holding his tension for months, caught in the hollows of his chest, finally working its way out into the open air. It had been haunting him, like a ghastly Halloween hangover that dared to last until Christmas. Thankfully, it was December now and Nate felt lighter and freer than he had in months.

“You got what you wanted for Christmas,” you mumbled into his chest, causing his chest to vibrate with laughter.

“Guess I sort of did, yeah.” He kissed the top of your head softly. “Ready to go home?”

“Ready for four days of you and me time?” you teased him a little.

Despite your teasing, his response was entirely genuine, “Been looking forward to it for weeks now.”

Your smile in response to his words stuck with you the entire way home. Nate loved you in actions, but sometimes it was nice to hear words from him as well. You kicked off your shoes at the front door, just in the knick of time before the dogs could come and greet you both.

“Want me to crack a bottle of wine or champagne?” you asked Nate as he dropped his bag by the front door.

“Champagne,” he told you before dropping a kiss to your temple. “We’re celebrating tonight.”

You slid into the kitchen, dogs hot on your heels, as you made a beeline for the champagne in the fridge. You’d slid it in before you left for the game on the chance Nate finally got his hat trick tonight. You hadn’t wanted to drink warm champagne if that was the case and now, holding the cold bottle of champagne and two flutes, you knew you had made the right decision betting on your boyfriend tonight. He rounded the corner into the kitchen a few moments later, game day suit still on, jacket and tie lost back in your shared bedroom.

“Glad you got yourself what you wanted for Christmas, Nate,” you smiled teasingly at him as you started to fuss with the gold foil over the champagne cork.

“Before you pop that,” he told you, reaching a hand out to place over yours as you worked on the foil covering the cork, “I, um, I have something for you.”

“Nate, it’s December twenty-third,” you sighed, setting the bottle down on the cool stone counter. “Can’t it wait a couple of days?”

Nate smiled softly at you, a smile that seemed to mean he knew more than you in this exact moment, “I’ve actually been holding on to this gift for a long time and I think tonight is the perfect night to give it to you. Are you okay if I blow up Christmas a little bit?”

You sighed again and gave Nate a stern look up and down, but the softness in his blue eyes and the innocence in his lazy smile pulled you in and had you nodding in approval. Your nod caused nerves to dance in Nate’s eyes and his hands to slide into his pockets, fidgeting with their contents. He shifted softly from one foot to the other. His eyes dropped to the floor for a moment to watch his feet move before he slowly lifted his head back up in time with a bounce on his heels.

“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled softly to himself.

He cleared his throat before speaking, “I told you I don’t know what I want for Christmas. Hell, I told you that I didn’t know what I wanted for my birthday and that was back in September. The truth is I’ve known what I’ve actually wanted the whole time. The hat trick was nice and all, but it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

“Whatever it is, you could’ve told me,” you chided him a little.

Your words were met with an anxious smile and more shuffling of his feet across the floor. He shook his head softly and let out a tight breath before continuing.

“The only thing I want for Christmas is something you can give me, but you can get it for me,” he told you softly, his voice shaking as he spoke, the nerves in his eyes and his feet and his hands tightening and constricting his voice resonating in his chest.

Nate slowly pulled a hand out of his pocket before purposefully, and painstakingly slowly, dropping down on one knee in front of you. Your hands flew over your mouth on instinct and your eyes clouded over instantly. Nate smiled softly at your reaction, trying desperately not to let what he hoped your actions meant take over and make him too hopeful of your answer to his question to prevent him from asking it. He carefully opened the small black box in his hand to show you your early Christmas present, a beautiful ring nestled among the black velvet inside.

“For Christmas, I’d like for you to say you’ll be my wife,” he continued slowly and as steadily as he could. “The thing I’m most proud of, of everything I’ve ever done, is being your partner. I love you so much more than I say, but I hope I show it enough that you want to sign up for me forever because it’s just you. It’s just you forever, for every single day, every single holiday, every single moment. I want to spend every single Christmas for the rest of my life with you. So, what do you say? Will you be my wife? Will you make my Christmas wish come true?”

The cliches hung thick in his words, but the emotions behind them, the sentiment was so true you could feel it in the very core of who you were. Nathan MacKinnon saw you, faults and gifts and everything in between and loved you in the steadiest, most true way you had ever known. In the light of the Christmas tree, in the home you built together, with the life you build together palatable around you, Nate was asking you to build the rest of it together. You didn’t have to think about your answer.

“Yes, Nate. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Nerves gave way to relief which even more quickly gave way to joy on Nate’s face as he slowly slid the ring he’d had tucked in the back drawer for months onto your finger where it belonged. Nate let out a long breath at the sight of it finally on your hand before slowly standing up in front of you, his hands reaching out to cup your face gingerly.

“Best early Christmas present ever,” you told him with a wide smile on your face.

He smiled back just as widely and happily as you grinned at him, “Merry Christmas, my future wife.”

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