#not a sports person but i do enjoy the occasional hockey game | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miekasa · 3 years

Note

M-mie could we get some athlete boyfriend eren hcs too if you don’t mind, please and thank you😩

He is: my boyfriend, and I love him dearly. Perfect amount of himbo and athlete without being a jock, everybody give it up for Eren for being my dream boy <3

Eren plays sports year round, with the exception of maybe one or two winter seasons, just because his school/work/home life was too busy for athletics at those times. Otherwise, he’s always go something to practice for: soccer in the fall, hockey in the winter, and his choice of baseball or basketball in the spring.

He’s not a varsity athlete; that is, he’s not “committed” to any one team, so he’s not tied to playing one sport every year, nor are his academics linked to his athletics, or vice versa. He’s just a pretty athletic guy, and he’s got a lot of energy, and he enjoys sports, so naturally he plays whenever he can.

As it turns out, it does help him with his academics. Knowing he’s got practice the majority of the week forces Eren into building a schedule that prioritizes both schoolwork and sports so he can enjoy them equally. It teaches him to be independent in a way that he wasn’t expecting, but he’s come to really love.

And because he loves it, he doesn’t mind working hard for it. Liking the way he’s set it up for himself encourages him to do his best in both areas. It’s really just good for him all around: a good outlet fo his energy, a good way to spend his time, a good way to keep his grades in check, and a good way to keep himself comfortably happy and busy.

His appetite is insatiable, so it’s only dramatized when playing sports. He takes the all you can eat in all you can eat sushi a little too seriously.

The thing is… he’s a shit cook, too, so it’s not like he’s meal prepping to make sure he’s satisfying his appetite. He just buys a shit ton of food whenever he’s hungry. He’s always asking you if you wanna grab food, and part of it is to ensure that you’re eating—not as much as him, but eating nonetheless—but part of it is that he just likes sharing meals with someone.

He also doesn’t like to eat alone, so even if you only have your ten California rolls to his forty six spicy tuna rolls, that’s fine; he just wants the company.

That’s also why even if you say you’re not hungry, he’ll drag you out to eat with him anyway. And you’ll probably get fed some of his food even if you don’t order anything and insist that you’re not hungry because, “It’s really good, baby, just try it—just one bite, it’s okay I’ve got plenty left!”

He usually keeps a few granola bars and chips and other snacks of his liking on him. But because of Eren’s nature, he keeps them on you, too: in your car, in your backpack, in your apartment/dorm. You’ll meet him after class and he’ll kinda just start walking behind you, and you realize he’s opening your backpack, and you don’t even have time to question him before he’s pulling a bar out of the smallest pocket with a smile and munching on it.

Sometimes you come home and see his little protein shakes in your fridge. You definitely didn’t put them there, but you don’t move them, either. When you stock up on more when they’re running low, Eren contemplates marrying you.

If it’s been a hard week of practice or school, he tends to get sleepy when studying (usually when studying for his least favorite class, no coincidence there). He’ll close his laptop, put his hood up, and scooch his chair closer to yours before leaning his head on your shoulder.

He gets increasingly clingier the longer he naps; hand wrapping around your waist, nose poking at your neck. He’s not so subtly trying to hint that he wants you to quit studying and take him home to cuddle instead. If you don’t get the message, expect him to shut your laptop for you.

When you protest, Eren just looks at you with pouty lips and tired eyes, “Chemistry sucks anyway. Wanna nap, and also wanted you to do that thing with your hands when you massage my back for me.” (He then promptly falls asleep mid-massage on your bed).

He’s actually got a waiver to see a physical massage therapist because of how frequently he’s exercising. On occasion, he goes, but he claims he likes your massages much better. Also because he’s hesitant about a stranger touching him and once he moaned when the guy was working on his back and Eren swears it was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.

He doesn’t get upset if you can’t make it to every game, but he does like it when you show up. Gets all cheesy and cocky with his arm around your shoulder, going on about how, “You’re my good luck charm, baby. I play better when you’re watching, you know?”

He has so much team clothing, from sweats to hoodies to t-shirts to socks. All he asks is that you wear something on game days, even if you can’t be there to support him while he’s playing. And that you keep one or two things for yourself anyway. He’ll put them in your closet for your if you don’t take them yourself <2

Because seeing you in his hoodie is always great, but his team hoodies are extra special, because they’ve got his name and his number on them. Whenever you’re wearing one, he trails just a half step behind you so he can see JAEGER printed on your back while you walk. Something about you wearing his last name around is… enticing, to say the least.

Even if it’s not the clothes branded with his name, Eren’s got a thing for you in sweats and/or workout clothes, so he’ll toss them at you whenever you sleep over. He’s always handsy, even if you’re just wearing an Under Armour shirt with the school’s logo on it; the material of it, and knowing that it’s his just makes him want to keep his hands on you.

Truthfully, he doesn’t workout all that much outside of practice. Occasionally, he’ll go to the gym with some of his teammates if they need a buddy, or go himself to stretch or take one of the free classes, but he doesn’t have a strict schedule for it. If you go to the gym, he’ll follow you if you ask, tho.

Turns out something that he does like is yoga. He’s not particularly flexible lmfao, but the stretching helps with muscle pain and tension, and he kinda finds the whole atmosphere of it relaxing. He’s still not so great at the meditation part of it, but he’s getting there.

(Actually, it’s pretty cute because on Tuesday and Thursdays, the yoga classes at the gym on campus are open-level and beginner friendly. That’s when the majority of the athletes show up, and you see people like Eren, Jean and Connie holding tree pose in the back room).

This, of course, makes him think that couples yoga is a great idea. Let’s just say, you’re lucky that Eren is strong enough to catch you and has sharp reflexes, because he’s certainly not the most balanced partner for this activity.

Game days are fun for him, and usually even if his team loses, he’s still so pumped up on adrenaline that he’s pretty happy. He only gets moody if he thinks the other team is playing dirty, or the refs are unfair, or he’s just been in a bad mood because of something that happened in his personal life; sports are an outlet for him, not his drive in life, so losing a game doesn’t take a huge toll on him.

Usually, even if he is upset about something personal, he’s able to funnel it into his game play. Small things used to make his whole sportsmanship sour, but overtime, he’s really gotten better at using his energy to fuel the right things. However, one thing that makes him foul (emotionally and literally; as in he might foul out of a game), is if he’s been fighting with you.

Sometimes it works in his favor—using the game as outlet, like usual—but it goes south pretty quickly. Because instead of using his aggression in a productive way, he gets distracted and easily pissed off, and it’s no good for anybody, especially himself. Because if he fouls out, or the coach takes him out for doing too much, then he can’t play; and if he can’t play then all that pent up frustration has no where to go; and then he’s forced to just sit with himself and his thoughts, but usually he starts deflecting and telling everyone else to piss off. Truly a no good, very bad box he’s put himself in.

You guys don’t fight that often, and it’s rare that it drags out for an extended amount of time when you do; but as with any relationship, it can happen. And when it does happen, if Armin doesn’t get to you first, expect one of Eren’s teammates to come groveling at your feet.

Or, rather, two. Because when you and Eren were fighting for over two weeks about god knows what at this point, it was Connie and Jean who ambushed you in the library. Jean had some pride to keep, but Connie was practically begging you to make up with Eren: “Look, I know he’s probably the one who said or did something to piss you off, and I’m not saying you gotta forgive him, but please just talk to him. I can’t run anymore extra laps because of him, and it’s gonna be so embarrassing if we lose to a C-list team on Friday because Eren’s funking up everyone’s attitude. PLEASE!”

Jean is more interested in the tea between you guys, but he also wants Eren to go back to being his normal hotheaded self, and not his current moody self. “He’s been playing like a bitch baby all week, and I’m gonna knock his skull in if he doesn’t fucking get his act together,” Jean rolls his eyes, “So just show up on Friday, alright? Do it for me and Connie, at least.”

When Eren does see you in the crowd at the game, it’s not a Troy and Gabriella moment, but when he sees you he feels so much relief that he’s physically calmer and way more mentally relaxed—because at this point Eren wasn’t even mad, he was just scared you might break up with him, and that fear brought out the worst in him. Seeing you in the stands, even if you didn’t wanna speak to him, was reassurance that you still gave a damn about him, and that was motivation enough.

He rushes to you after the game, wanting to make sure you don’t get swept away or leave with your friends. He’s smiling and so happy to finally see you that he almost forgets that you’re mad with him; hugging you and grinning ear to ear. When the reality kicks in, he kinda steps back at bit and rubs at his neck, embarrassed, but at least he knows he still has a chance to make things right with you.

(When you do make up, you’re surprised to find flowers and $10 coupon for your favorite pizza place in your mailbox a few days later. They’re from Connie, and his poorly handwritten note thanks you for “saving the team” and “curbing Eren’s temper).

#anonymous #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot imagines #he is... my BOYFRIEND !!!!!!!!!!!!!!#MY FUCKEN BOYFRIEND !!!!!!!! MY BABEYYYYYYYYYYY #eren fluff #eren smut

455 notes · View notes

ohsolonelyghosts · 3 years

Note

what sports do you think the adam driver characters would be into or play

Oooh, I am SO glad you've asked because I do have ideas for this!

Kylo: I have a hockey AU for him, so that's definitely his sport.

Kylo plays a forward position, specifically a right-winger.

He was drafted by the Detroit Red Wings, but Tampa was lucky to pick him up in a trade.

"Babe, can you cook me some pasta?”

Pasta is his favorite pregame meal, he will eat it and then go rest for a few hours.

"I'm sorry, baby doll, it's the playoffs, Coach asked me to cut down on sex." Which would make you mad, but Kylo usually broke his celibacy for you.

When there are little Kylo's running around so to speak, he's putting them in hockey as well, no matter the gender. You personally disagree, but he knows you'll crumble when he asks with a sweet smile.

You show up to every game possible and you used to have a lot of anxiety when he would travel with the team, but you got told how giddy he gets to come home and see you.

Charlie: While he wasn't ever one for playing sports, he honestly loves a good rugby game. He doesn't mind watching football either but is insistent that college is way better than any professional league.

"What's even going on in this?" You ask, completely confused because you were never much of a sports person growing up.

He has to explain both sports to you every time he watches them.

Charlie isn't much of a yeller during football games, but lets out heavy sighs and could tell you that even he would have made that pass.

Maurizio: Definitely an avid skiing fan, and loves to ski himself in the winter.

He loves watching alpine skiing when the Olympics roll around and has taken you to the Olympics a few times.

You both go skiing every winter, and Maurizio chuckles at you when you inevitably struggle every year.

"Sweetie, it's just a little snow," Maurizio spoke out the first time you went skiing with him. Undoubtedly, you were miserable from growing up in a warmer climate where it hardly ever snowed.

Regardless, you enjoyed the time you got to spend with him, as he was always busy.

Adam: Let's be real, Sackler is a total football nerd.

"Can you keep it down? I'm trying to study!" You'd proclaim, walking with your arms crossed into the living room.

Sackler would in fact not listen to you protesting him being loud and continue to scream at the tv.

For his birthday, you got him tickets to go to a Bills game and you will never forget the sex he rewarded you with.

Superbowl is the loudest time you have ever heard Adam scream, besides the playoffs, but you can't really be upset because it's a weekend.

Adam never played football in high school, but he does recall when his parents put him in it at a young age.

Paterson: He's not really a sports guy, but he does the occasional college football game and enjoys watching some Sunday NFL games.

You respect how hardworking he is during the week, and you actually enjoy watching the game with him.

You grew up around boys and learned the game enough to talk about it, which impressed Pat more than you knew.

You would get him a beer from the fridge and bring him snacks without asking, then snuggle right up next to him.

Jude: Alright, Jude definitely played hockey in high school.

He wants to put your kids in hockey because he really believes that they could be super talented.

He was the captain of his high school team and is very insistent that he could have gone pro.

When you agree, he takes your kids playing very seriously and they are always on time to practices.

Jude becomes a coach for their team and is always very particular about everything the boys do.

75 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 3 years

Text

the himbo chronicles

part i | part ii

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: kissing, underage drinking, kissing with consent while under the influence, please let me know if i’ve missed anything else!

pairings: roman/logan, offscreen patton/virgil

word count: 8,877

notes: i simply could not resist writing about these good good boys for a moment longer. i love them. this work takes place in the late summer/early fall between logan’s freshman and sophomore year of college, or almost four years after the main storyline. if you need a quick rundown of the characters (i know seven new characters might be a lot to digest!) here’s a quick guide to each of the boys. please enjoy!

⁂

one had a certain expectation when it came to many college-aged boys living in the same house together. partying. general revelry. chaos. messy surroundings. the loud blaring of video games. more than just a touch of hedonism, certainly.

logan sanders is a rather atypical college-aged boy. in his past reveries when considering college, he'd thought of the libraries he'd spend hours in, the books he'd pore over, the professors that would come to mentor him. perhaps the occasional errant thought of a party he'd be dragged to, but then his brain had moved to college newspapers and their framing on pieces when it came to excessive drinking and how to interview fraternity presidents concerning their unsettling hazing rituals.

during his senior year, a fair amount of his fretting had transitioned into how to handle the distance from his father, patton, and pseudo-father, virgil, back home in sideshire, which proved itself solved quite handily; yale is close enough that it's not even a notably long drive. the other worrisome part, though, were how to visit his long-term boyfriend, roman, who was no longer even in the same state. but they'd made it work, over the past year, and logan is currently sitting in an armchair he'd dragged over to the front window of the house, trying and miserably failing to pay attention to some of his class reading.

once he'd gotten to college, though, those social expectations for the rest of his peers had certainly been proven, if simply by virtue of examining the rest of his classmates. his life, however, seems ill-contented to have left it at that; he can safely say that his social circle is not entirely like he'd expected his college friends to be.

for instance, as he hears the creaking of the old wood floors behind him—

"if you start making fun of me for waiting by the window for roman again i will take points from your good noodle chart," logan threatens, and adam scampers off with barely-contained snickering.

he had not expected to have to say that sentence during his college years at all.

there's a hastily-stifled laugh, and logan swivels around to see jordan, who is certainly paying very studious attention to his own class reading.

logan's eyes narrow at him.

"you usually study in the kitchen," logan says, just barely keeping an accusing tone out of his voice.

"more natural light in here," jordan says, nodding to the window, his lip caught between his teeth.

logan scowls.

"...okay," jordan relents, "and—"

"i knew it."

"c'mon, none of us have met him before!" jordan protests, even as logan is calculating the chances of being able to kick jordan out of here. they are not particularly good; he can hear andrew, derek, and edward loudly talking about their SQUH-SQUH-SQUH SQUAT CHALLEEEEEENGE! in the living room, which is open to the kitchen. the counting of the squats they can do is very noisy, not even factoring in the trash-talk.

"privacy would be appreciated," logan says.

"in this house?" jordan says skeptically, which is a fair point; there are nine of them crammed into five rooms. logan's room is technically a single only by virtue of it being an attic that can barely fit a lofted bed with a desk and a dresser warring for space underneath. logan is fairly certain that janus's shared room with matthew in the basement was never intended for long-term human habitation, either.

"i knew i should have met him at the station," logan says, ruffling the pages of his book.

"is logan talking about us?" matthew shouts from the living room. his feet pound against the hardwood as he poked his red head around the corner, his eyes going as teasingly pleading as jordan's. "you're not gonna make us miss meeting our step-daddy, are you, mom?"

the "mom" thing is somewhat new, too, and also an aspect of college life that logan had not foreseen. perhaps logan should have seen it coming when he started instituting a chore chart and a chart for good behavior with plastic dinosaur toys as rewards. for reasons that elude him, the boys named it the "good noodle" chart.

he had mostly started the chart after what might have been a joke from janus, in retrospect, but he certainly isn't going to stop now, not when it's been proven to be so effective.

what he says instead of respond to matthew's question is "have you finished the dishes?"

matthew hesitates, looking back over his shoulder to the countertops.

"...yyeesss...?"

logan arches an eyebrow at him. "if i walk in there, will there be dishes in the sink?"

matthew attempts to model his eyes after jordan, widening them and trying to look innocent. he isn't as gifted at it.

"it would be a shame if you had to be demoted on the good noodle chart because you didn't finish your chores and—" he glances at a notecard— "chirped me about roman."

a pause.

"was that accurate?" logan says. "is it 'chirped?'"

"cory!" matthew bellows over his shoulder.

"yeah?" cory shouts back.

"hockey trash-talk is chirping, right?"

"yeah!"

"thank you!" matthew shouts back and turns to face logan. "yeah, it's chirping."

"hockey," logan mutters, scrawling this onto the notecard. the influx of sports-related slang to his notecards is another unforeseen aspect of college life. "it's hockey-specific, that's what i was missing."

a beat.

"the sooner you can get them done you can pass it to the next person on the chart. do the dishes," logan adds severely, and matthew stumps off to the kitchen, grumbling something under his breath that sounds a lot like “ugh, mom.”

say what one will about the good noodle chart—it certainly is a successful motivator.

perhaps the plastic bag full of dozens of mini bubble-wands that the boys saw logan receive in the mail this week is doing more of the persuasion rather than the necessity of the chores, or logan himself, but it works.

“logan?”

“hmm?” logan says, distracted by wondering if derek vacuumed the living room or if he dragged around a dining chair make lines in the carpet again.

jordan, grinning, nods to the window, and logan whips his head around just in time to see a taxi pull into the driveway.

the sudden surge of excitement and happiness and eagerness is enough to make him stand up, because roman is right there, logan can distantly see him in a red shirt in the back of the taxi. logan hastily tosses his book onto the nearest table and goes for the front door as quickly as he can without running outright.

by the time he is near enough to roman to see the details of how he’s styled his hair that day, a piece of lint on his shoulder, the way he’s slung his bag on his shoulder, he’s paying the taxi driver.

he turns around to face logan, and logan loses his breath.

god he’s so handsome.

logan doesn’t know if it’s a month’s absence, or if roman has indeed grown more beautiful by the day, but roman is so lovely. his skin glows in the late summer sun, grinning at logan wide and bright, and logan can’t stand there and drink in the sight of him, chronicling every single miniscule difference that he can, because roman grabs logan in a hug, pulling him close.

logan wraps his arms around roman as tight as he can, burying his face into roman’s shoulder and inhaling; the familiar scent of his cologne, his floral body wash, the gel he uses in his hair.

“i missed you,” roman whispers, breath warm against logan’s ear.

“me too,” logan mumbles, squeezing him tighter. usually, roman hugs him even tighter back, but today, he falters.

“um.”

logan pulls back enough to see the quizzical look on roman’s face. roman nods at something behind him.

“i think we have a bit of an audience.”

logan glances back over his shoulder in time to see all seven of the boys—plus a peek of janus in the back, surely egging on the chaos—jostling for the best view at the window where logan had just been keeping vigil.

“it’s not too late to call the taxi back and go somewhere private,” logan says, turning to face roman again. “i could show you the library.”

roman grins at him. “are you kidding? i’ve wanted to see if you were exaggerating about them for ages.”

logan scoffs. “as if i’m the one prone to exaggeration in this relationship.”

roman’s grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “fuck, i’ve missed you so bad.”

what else can logan do but pull roman in by the waist and kiss him?

even muffled by the closed door and the thick glass of the window, logan can hear the boys hooting and hollering and yelling “GET IT, MOM!!!” and “ow OW!” and roman laughs against logan’s lips.

logan smiles into the kiss, and he thinks that roman’s weekend visit probably couldn’t have gotten off to a better start if he’d tried.

⁂

the first thing that someone says when logan and roman walk into the front door is “what the FUCK, mom, you didn’t tell us he was HOT!”

roman swivels to face logan, offended.

“of course i think he’s hot,” logan says, bemused. “i’m dating him. he’s obviously my type.”

“yeah, but,” adam says, and he gestures to roman’s body at whole. “he’s fucking hot, though.”

there’s a rumbling of agreement from the other boys—sans janus, who has obviously met roman before—and roman immediately preens at the attention.

because roman is undoubtedly hot. his brown skin is glowing—logan has seen him wearing facemasks on their video calls enough times that he knows it’s not incidentally clear, perfect skin—and he’s maybe not quite as bulkily built as, say, derek, who can pick up logan and janus simultaneously without breaking a sweat, but roman is strong by virtue of his profession and it shows.

“thanks,” roman says, grinning.

“i mean,” adam adds hastily, “all respect to you and logan, i mean this in, like, the bros-appreciating-bros way, not the i’m trying to steal your man way.”

“i figured,” logan says dryly, considering that adam, notably lacking in a sense of impulse control, has never offered any romantic inclination towards men before.

“well, roman, this is—everyone,” logan says, and points at each housemate as he says their name.

“adam rothschild—”

“hi,” adam adds belatedly.

“—matthew van doren—”

“'sup,” matthew says, with an upward nod of his red head.

“—cory hollingsworth—”

cory flashes a peace sign from where he stands beside janus.

“—jordan arlington—”

“nice to meet you, man, logan’s been looking forward to this for fuckin’ ever,” jordan says.

logan, refusing to blush, continues with, “edward morton—”

“shalom, bro,” he says.

“—andrew de loughrey—”

“hey, dude.”

“—derek carmichael, and you remember janus, of course.”

“nice to finally meet you all,” roman says, an arm wrapped comfortably around logan’s waist.

“you’re fucking yoked, bro,” derek says, appreciative. “what does your leg day look like? your quads are insane.”

“thanks, man,” roman says, extending a denim-clad leg with all of his typical grace. his legs are insane, to be fair. “part of the job—has logan mentioned i’m a ballet dancer?”

there’s a chorus of agreement, and so as they relocate, unspoken, to the living room. all of the other boys listen to some of the exercises roman discusses, and roman offers demonstrations of barre warm-ups upon request, his hand on the kitchen island, to great enthusiasm.

logan probably should have guessed that hearing about the workout regimen of a ballet dancer would go a long way in convincing this house full of “jocks” that roman was worthy of their adoptive, same-age mother. he’s pleased that by the time this line of conversation is winding down, it has been proven to be a very effective icebreaker.

even if he is a little grumpy to lose the warmth of roman’s hand where it had been resting on his knee.

however, once that conversation does trail off, logan gets to his feet.

“how about i take you on a tour of the house? i can show you my room.”

“ooh, mom, get it,” andrew says, to great whooping and a wolf-whistle which elicits more laughter from the other boys.

“remember, house rule, sock on the doorknob!” says someone who can surely only be adam.

“i’m making a bad noodle chart now,” logan says, attempting to fight the blush that’s surely creeping onto his face, “all of you have been demoted to the bad noodle chart.”

roman reaches out and takes logan’s hand. “you actually have a noodle chart? i thought you were kidding.”

“i am not kidding,” logan says sourly, directing a glare toward the boys.

jordan, mercifully, provides a very handy distraction by order of shouting out “MARIO KART TOURNAMENT I CALL ROSALINA,” which immediately descends into chaos as the boys fight over who gets peach, or yoshi, or else fighting over their “lucky” switch controllers.

janus meets eyes with logan, rolls his eyes, and promptly siddles his way into one of the four coveted spots to play as wario. somehow janus never has to engage in this arguing, even though logan, the house mother, has to fight with the boys to get to play with isabelle—

whatever. it’s fine. as adam launches himself at jordan to literally wrestle him to the ground for the honor of playing as rosalina, logan takes advantage of this to slip further into the kitchen with roman.

“we could probably make a getaway attempt now, it would be an ideal time,” logan says, a touch anxious; this is roman’s first time meeting the boys, and logan knows better than most people that being in the (boys-and-janus-dubbed) himbo house can be overwhelming.

“no way,” roman says warmly, squeezing logan’s hand, and logan’s heart flutters in its chest. “show me the rest of the house, c’mon.”

logan shows roman the good noodle chart in its place of pride in the kitchen, taking a moment to detract a gold star sticker from adam for tackling jordan, writing unnecessary violence (mario kart) on the line beneath specifically meant for the reason for the latest detraction in red dry-erase marker.

he adds a star for jordan without writing exactly why.

roman takes a moment to survey the chart and immediately barks with laughter at the bottom line.

“don’t,” logan grumbles.

“but c’mon!” roman says, delightedly pointing at the section of the chart that has special microscope stickers instead of gold stars.

it says logan workaholism

and then, in different handwriting and a different colored marker, (and drunk shenanigans).

“yes, well, you’ve seen the chart now,” logan says evasively, tugging roman along, and roman follows with a smile on his face that’s a bit too big for logan’s liking.

logan hadn’t even been on the chart. but no, he listened to adam’s recommendation for a drink one time (he should have realized that would turn out to be a horrible idea) and now he was on the good noodle chart, specifically so they could detract a sticker. he shouldn’t be on the chart, he runs it!

he still has the most stickers of anyone, though, so there.

logan shows roman their kitchen, which is more well-stocked than one would expect a stereotypical a college kitchen to be. there’s two mini-fridges so that edward can keep kosher. within the normal fridge, and in the cabinets, there’s an overwhelming supply of protein bars, shakes, and powders, in addition to plenty of fruits and vegetables.

he slips with roman up the stairs, unnoticed by everyone screaming at the four lucky players of the first leg of the mario kart tournament. from a glance at their ridiculously oversized flat screen, janus seems to be swiftly overtaking the lead due to taking advantage of a secret passage.

logan gestures vaguely to the rooms leading off the landing, telling roman who occupied which, as well as the communal bathrooms, but as there are no common spaces on either of the floors that roman has not already seen, he essentially leads roman straight up to the attic.

his room.

he tentatively opens the door for roman to look in and behold it, which roman immediately does.

logan’s lofted bed is crammed against the wall that divides the attic at the apex of the roof, as the opposite wall slants with the angle of the roof. everything is lit by the window opposite the door; logan debates flicking on the overhead light, and decides against it. the afternoon sun does just fine.

logan’s bed is made, his indigo duvet tucked neatly over his white sheets. his desk is pushed beneath the bed, with his laptop, a notebook, and a mug from remy’s café full of pens resting on it, the shelves above the desk that the boys had helped logan install nearly toppling under the weight of all their books. logan’s backpack sits in his desk chair, logan’s dresser shut. the rest of the floorspace is overtaken by a comfy rug and a pitiful excuse for a beanbag chair, which roman promptly sits on, wiggling to get comfortable.

“i like it,” he proclaims. “it’s cozy.”

logan tries to smile at him. the room is cramped and logan knows it.

all the other occupants of the house come from, to put it in plain terms, the same world of wealth and status that his grandparents occupy. as a matter of fact, his grandparents had been incredibly pleased that logan’s roommates had been “up to snuff,” a roundabout way of saying they’re of an appropriate caliber for our ivy-leaguer grandson.

logan knows that it was no coincidence that his roommates offered him his “cozy” room and therefore a lower amount for rent, all of them reasoning that as he had the smallest and least convenient room and if he was not there to supervise the house would surely explode, as part of this offer was surely due to the fact that they knew that his budget did not stretch as far as theirs did.

for one, he is the only roommate with a job. for another, he is the only one who knows how to budget.

well, janus would likely be able to figure it out, but he’s never needed to, which is the point.

derek hadn’t even recognized what “those little slips of paper” in logan’s hands were when logan attempted to discreetly coupon during a grocery outing.

educating them on what coupons were was... an experience, to be sure.

logan’s musings are interrupted when roman takes hold of his hand and gently tugs at logan. logan obligingly sinks onto the ground to join him, settling practically on roman’s lap.

“hey,” roman says, voice husky.

“hi,” logan says, in a tone that strikes him as strangely shy.

roman reaches out and makes a grabby hand, to which logan rolls his eyes and settles more decisively on roman’s lap, unable to keep the smile off his face, which roman can surely see, given the way that logan is now directly facing him.

“better?”

“much, thank you,” roman says graciously, settling his hands at logan’s waist and gently squeezing.

“i must agree,” logan says, resting his hands on roman’s shoulders and squeezing back. roman offers him a slanted smile.

“love, what a long way, to arrive at a kiss,” roman says, pausing to pick logan’s hand off his shoulder and press a kiss to his palm, achingly soft, “what loneliness-in-motion, toward your company!”

“you can’t just quote neruda off the bat, it isn’t fair,” logan complains, despite the fact that his heart has been sent aflutter, but he is cut off when roman’s lips meet his.

oh, how logan’s missed this. he’s familiar with the pressure of roman’s lips against his, the warmth and breadth of roman’s hands wrapping around him, the way logan’s hands fit perfectly on roman’s shoulders, and missing it has been like an ache.

languid, unhurried afternoons in the summers by the town’s lake; inexperienced hands slipping up shirts in their childhood bedrooms; illicit kisses in the gazebo when they were both meant to be at home; his memories seemed to pale in comparison to having the real thing, right now. roman’s heartbeat and the rush of logan’s pulse in his own ears and the sweet, perfect slide of their mouths. they break to breathe, staying forehead-to-forehead.

“but you and i, love,” logan murmurs, “we are together, from our clothes down to our roots: in the autumn, in water, in hips, until we are together—only you, only me.”

“you skipped a few lines,” roman teases.

“i editorialized,” logan says. “taltal is not particularly applicable to our situation, is it?”

“and i suppose it isn’t raining,” roman says, mock-thoughtfully. logan smiles and leans in for more.

roman responds, sliding his hands down logan’s back and eventually coming to grip at logan’s thighs, and logan arches into the touch—

—"ow!”

—and logan leans back, careful to avoid the slant of the roof he’d just hit his head against, putting a hand on where his head throbs in complaint.

“oh, i’m sorry!” roman says frantically. “i’m so sorry, c’mere, c’mere, let me look—”

“it was just a bump, it’s not so bad,” logan says, but he squirms and twists so that roman can see the point of impact.

roman cautiously runs his fingers through logan’s hair, paying close attention, and gently presses his fingers down. logan winces.

“tender?”

“a bit.”

“i’m sorry,” roman repeats, now running his fingers through logan’s hair, careful to keep his touch light.

“i hit my head getting out of bed and getting up from my desk for a full week before i got used to the angle,” logan says with a shrug. “kissing you is the most pleasurable way this could have happened.”

“well, now, still don’t like that clever little brain of yours getting bumped around,” roman says, frowning.

logan points to where, at this angle, roman can see the protective pool noodle secured to protect himself from hitting his head against his bed while standing up from the bed. janus had cut it for him with an exacto knife. logan is unsure where janus keeps this exacto knife. he hopes it’s hidden somewhere safe; sharp implements were just asking for trouble in this household.

“better now,” logan says, then, when roman’s still frowning, “i’m used to it, really. and besides, i’m the second-shortest in the house; no one else would take this room. well, janus would be the only other person who wouldn’t be constantly hitting his head, but i think he prefers the basement.”

“like an evil lair,” roman grumbles.

“precisely what he said,” logan says dryly. “can you imagine derek in here?”

they both take a moment to imagine derek, who stands at six feet and seven inches tall, slouched over at most points of the room.

“yeah, that’d be a bit of a tight squeeze,” roman acknowledges.

“besides,” logan says. “there are plenty of ways to be comfortable.”

he adjusts to sit on the comfy, fluffy rug—bought specifically for floor-sitting in mind—and pulls roman along. roman, getting the idea, moves the beanbag to use as a pillow, and lies back against it. logan curls up on the ground with him, resting his head over roman’s heart.

roman takes a moment to switch to scratching his fingernails against logan’s scalp, and logan tries not to shudder with pleasure too obviously.

“i like it in here,” logan says. “i like that i can go out of the window to sit on the roof, if i wanted. i like that i have the clearest view of the night sky. i like that i have a single room. and—”

he points to the side of the rafters that would not be visible to someone standing in the doorway of the room; only from within it are the stick-on, glow-in-the-dark stars surrounding the photographs of logan’s loved ones are visible. the one most visible from here is himself and roman eating lucy’s at the winterfest where they had their first kiss.

“—i like that there are unique decorating ideas i could only put into function in this room.”

roman kisses logan’s head, and, with that, curled up together on logan’s bedroom floor, they start talking about everything and nothing at all, and logan’s heart feels full and fit to burst with happiness.

⁂

look. matt’s fully aware that he’s cynical about love. it’s a bit hard not to when, growing up, his primary example of love was his dad and his revolving door of brides.

he’s pretty sure he’s on stepmom number eight, by now, he isn’t really sure, he hasn’t met the latest one.

(dad scheduled the wedding during peak crew season and matt’s dad, a yale alum himself, is all proud about him being on the team of the first rowing club formed at an american college. so matt didn’t go and his dad might have just assumed he had a regatta then. whatever. matt isn’t too fussed about it, seriously. he thinks her name might be tina? tara? fuck, he should probably work that out before thanksgiving break, shouldn’t he.)

(wait. goddammit. the last girlfriend was trisha. did he end up marrying trisha? he thought his dad dumped trisha because trisha got pissed at him for doing something in a dream of hers. fuck he seriously needs to do some googling before thanksgiving break.)

(wait. shit. it was tori who did the dream thing, because she was super into the astrology-dream-palm reading deal and she’d tried to figure out matt’s birth chart, so now he can flex that he knows he’s a leo sun taurus moon sagittarius rising to the girls he tries to pick up. that happened years ago, god damn it, who the fuck is his dad married to right now?!)

ANYWAYS. he doesn’t really have an optimistic view of love, especially at their age. so back when he’d first been getting to know logan, he’d been pretty surprised to hear that logan had a long-term boyfriend. logan didn’t really seem like the stereotypical college kid clinging to their high school sweetheart, like, at all.

there had been a girl on his floor freshman year who woke up half the dorm during her kicking-and-screaming fight with her high school boyfriend that she’d tried to long-distance with and ended up dumping after a month. he’d kind of been expecting to hear that logan was going to break up with his boyfriend, because, like, how many childhood sweethearts actually make it?

but no, no screaming fights for logan—honestly, matt’s pretty sure if he heard logan actually yell it would be the scariest thing ever—and now the boyfriend is here.

who is, like, not exactly what matt had expected? he’d thought roman would maybe be a copy of logan, someone else crazy smart and crazy dedicated to school, and, in the kindest way possible, a major nerd.

roman seems... cool.

like, first of all, he’d immediately understood and talked training routines with the rest of the house, which, like, respect to logan, who goes on runs and keeps his shit pretty tight, but he isn’t exactly the most gym-rat kind of dude.

roman’s routine sounded really interesting. matt’s got pretty good legs himself—you kind of have to, to be on the rowing team—but roman’s calves and quads and glutes look unreal. man could probably beat them all in a squat challenge tournament without breaking a sweat.

also, logan keeps himself looking like a eighteen-year-old tax accountant, with his polo and tie, but roman is dressed, like, suave. casual enough, sure,but his short-sleeved button down shirt looked like it was made of silk or satin or some fancy shit like that. it’s unbuttoned to show off the gold necklace he’s wearing. he’s wearing dark jeans at the exact right place on his waist.

logan has not exactly stepped into “going out” clothes, except for like combing his hair and wearing blue jeans. they’re going the pub that logan invariably picks on the rare nights he goes out with the rest of them—a coffee shop by day, a bar by night, and very unfancy.

logan is absently fixing roman’s collar so it sits straight as roman examines himself in his phone’s camera to check out his reflection. he flashes a smile toward logan in thanks.

logan smiles at him, something in his eyes going soft that matt’s never seen him do before, and—

and, okay, if anyone he knows is smart enough to figure out how love works this early on, it would probably be logan.

⁂

"you sure, bro?” andrew says, leaning against the open car door, not yet sliding into edward’s bmw. “’cause i can dd this time, i think it’s my turn anyway—”

edward’s already shaking his head. “shabbat’s tomorrow, dude. gotta get up early to go to temple anyway, gramps would derail the whole service if i turned up hungover.”

andrew shrugs. “if you’re sure,” he says, and at last he slides into the car that is absolutely filled up with people over the legal capacity.

usually, logan picks a fit about this, talking about things like seatbelts, but right now he’s perched on his boyfriend’s lap and doesn’t seem to mind at all.

janus, sitting beside them in the very back, is eyeing them like he’s ready to start elbowing them if they get too lovey. which like. logan, getting lovey? unlikely.

(however, the seven of them have made a pact to be as obnoxious as possible if the boyfriend gets too lovey. they didn’t include janus on this, because apparently janus and roman had a brief rivalry Thing in high school and it would probably piss logan off if they started fighting, but anyways. bros take care of bros.)

“are ya ready, kids?” edward asks as he starts the car.

“aye aye, captain!” the other six of his bros and, a little surprisingly, roman, call back. logan looks confused at this, as he usually does, and janus rolls his eyes, as he usually does.

“to the pub!” edward declares, and so they’re off as cory and jordan frantically play rock-paper-scissors to see who gets the aux cord.

jordan wins and as such immediately puts on his playlist, a few of the boys starting to sing along to nicki minaj—oh, sick, it’s the pump-up playlist. hell yeah, that means that beyoncé is coming up. edward fucking loves beyoncé.

edward peeks into the rearview mirror, and he sees roman pressing his face into logan’s shoulder, like he’s hugging him, and logan smiles, looking very pleased.

and as edward drives on, everyone joining in when “love on top” comes on, even over the raucous performance of ther rest of his bros, he could swear he hears roman’s voice, floating up to the driver’s seat even from where he’s singing in logan’s ear.

“baby it’s you, you’re the one i love, you’re the one i need...”

damn, edward thinks to himself, impressed. he’s got a good voice.

logan’s cheeks go a little bit pink, and he smiles, ducking his chin; roman takes a moment from singing into his ear to kiss him on the cheek.

also, that’s cute as fuck.

⁂

“shots?” cory demands. “shots, shots, shots?”

“we just got here,” logan says, usually the sole voice of reason and also being boring, but he doesn’t seem to be standing as firm as usual. that might have something to do with his boyfriend, who has an arm going over his shoulder, saying “hell yeah, dude!”

“getting shots my treat!” cory says, and he rushes into the scrum in front of the bar before logan can protest and try to pay for himself.

janus catches his elbow and allows himself to be pulled along with him, which is cool. janus is probably cory’s closest non-sports friend ever, because he and jan are, one, roommates, but two, kids adopted from other countries as symbols of their white parents’ supposed generosity (he’s chinese, janus is haitian, they handshake meme over white people misunderstanding the culture and history of their countries of origin) so they tend to get each other’s deal more often than other people in the house.

they’re already planning their “oh so sorry we’re busyyy” excuse and activities so they don’t have to go home over thanksgiving break.

cory leans down to talk into janus’ ear—it’s a friday night, so it’s as busy as it gets here—and practically shouts, “how long have they been dating again?”

“four years,” janus says back; cory has no idea how, but janus can always be heard in any crowd, he never has to shout.

“are they, like,” cory says. “i mean. are they like. i dunno what i’m even asking. is their relationship, like, nice, i guess?”

janus arches an eyebrow back. “do you happen to remember my previous relationship?”

mm, yeah. asher fleming, resoundingly shady, but very willing to dole out the cash whenever janus so much as pouted at him. which janus seemed to like, so good for him, cory guesses, even though asher fleming was sketchy as fuck, in his opinion. dude could rest in fucking pieces.

“what about that makes you think i am a good person to ask.”

cory opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again.

“hey, what can i get started for you?”

oh thank god. “uhh, nine—wait, ten—ten shots of vodka? boyd and blair, if you’ve got it. and open a tab,” cory adds, forking over his card.

“you got it,” the bartender says, taking it, and then pauses, taking a moment to take stock of cory.

cory flashes a smile at her. she smiles back, and turns for the bar, going to hunt down ten shot glasses and a tray, her brunette ponytail bouncing as she goes.

janus nods after her. “she’s cute.”

“yeah, but she’s working,” cory says, turning to lean back against the bar and scan the pub to see where the rest of his dudes have gone. “i’m like ninety percent sure not asking out a girl when she’s trapped at work is part of bro code.”

janus follows his lead, leaning against the bar.

“they’re adorable,” he says abrubtly, his eyes fixed on the table that the rest of their roommates have claimed, jostling each other for space.

“huh?”

“logan, when he’s with roman. they’re adorable. it’s disgusting. he gets all,” janus’ mouth twists. “sappy.”

“really?!” cory says, stunned. logan, sappy? the closest they’ve ever gotten to sappy logan is after running the full gamut of logan’s stages of drunkness.

“bet you fifty bucks logan initiates pda within ten minutes,” janus says.

“i’ll take that bet,” cory says immediately.

as he approaches the table with the tray of shots, logan reaches over to squeeze roman’s hand and then just hold it on the table. he realizes what he’s started to realize every time he makes a bet against janus, which is that he probably shouldn’t have made a bet against janus. cory literally never wins.

⁂

"hey, man, they made this wrong,” andrew lies cheerfully, setting the glass in front of logan. “you like peach schnapps, right?”

this is a thing he and the other dudes like to do, and logan gets into a snit when they do, but c’mon. andrew has literally unlimited access to cash, why shouldn’t he use it to spoil his friends?

and then logan usually says something about taking care of himself, but like, it’s covering your drinks, dude, it’s not a big deal.

logan gives him a look, a i know what you’re doing here look, a i am about to throw a fit because you paid for me look, but before he can say anything roman breaks into the conversation.

“oh, damn, i was gonna pay for logan’s next drink,” he says, sounding a little disappointed that he couldn’t treat logan to his drink of choice. “how much was that? i’ll cover it and you can get my next one, l, like we’re on a date.”

andrew, skeptical, waits, because this kind of tactic doesn’t work with logan, but—

logan relaxes back into the seat, turning his eyes to andrew.

“oh,” andrew says, and turns to crane at the menu. “uh, since it’s wells night, five or six bucks should cover it.”

“nice,” roman says peaceably, and forks over a ten. “just to cover my bases for my next drink on the tab—hey, who opened that, anyway, and what’s their venmo? i wanna be sure i have it so i can pay my share in the morning.”

“cory did—i’ll pull it up,” logan says, taking roman’s phone from his hand and searching for cory’s venmo profile.

huh. crisis averted.

andrew gives roman a thumbs-up over logan’s head, and roman grins back at him.

⁂

look. there are certain stages of drunkenness, right.

derek could be called a party—what was that word janus said? cone-is-sour?—connoisseur. like, he knows these things, okay. he knows that people have certain telltale signs of what they do when they start getting drunker.

for him, he gets all overheated and red-cheeked first, then he kind of stops having the concept of volume control, then everything sounds like the funniest thing in the world, there’s a bit about hugging his bros and singing along to whatever song the bar’s playing super loudly thrown in there most nights, and then he gets really sleepy, and after that his memory gets blurry. easy, simple way to tell how drunk he’s getting.

logan’s stages of drunkness are... pretty wild. like, holy hell is logan a lightweight. he got, like, very past tipsy after drinking two wine coolers once. they’ve all kind of taken it upon themselves to improve his drinking tolerance, gradually.

anyways. derek thinks he’s got logan’s stages figured out by now, along with the rest of the dudes, and the stages are as follows:

rambling when he talks

Science!

I Love My Friends

wandering off, most likely to fall asleep in a weirdass location

it turns out there might be a stage 1.5, but this stage might only be unlocked when his boyfriend is here.

stage 1.5 of logan drunkness is cuddly.

they’ve been playing the “who can pay for the most drinks for everyone but mostly for logan” game, which means that they’ve been mixing their alcohol (careful to steer clear of beer, though, ‘cause that could turn to beer before liquor during the next round, beer before liquor, never been sicker; liquor before beer, you’re in the clear, derek knows his fuckin’ booze) and trying drinks of what everyone else is trying, seeing if they can come up with a new favorite drinks combo before the night ends.

with one hand, logan’s currently stirring his plastic straw in a cocktail called a bramble. with the other, he’s got his arm flung across roman’s shoulders, occasionally adjusting his stance, and any time he catches anyone’s eyes during a conversation he beams, like, this is my boyfriend, isn’t this so great?!

and, like, look. he knows it’s basically dude code to kind of haze each other a little bit, whenever a new significant other comes around, just to make sure they’re up to snuff, but c’mon.

their uptight, workaholic house mom, drinking on a friday night like he doesn’t have a care in the world? practically unheard of.

derek’s pretty sure he can pin the sudden lack of tension in logan’s shoulders and jaw on the man that logan is currently staring at. roman is telling a story about a drag show he and his girl friends went to see in new york, and logan’s looking at him like roman hung all the stars in the sky, grinning whenever roman looks over at him.

like. come on. how is derek meant to haze that. it’s too fuckin’ cute.

⁂

logan is putting in an order for waters at the bar because while the boys are good at remembering to hydrate for sports reasons, no one ever remembers to hydrate for drinking reasons. a hand gently touches his waist, and, with a whiff of familiar cologne, roman slides in next to him at the bar.

“hey,” logan says, a little too aware that this is the closest they’ll get to a private conversation for the rest of the night.

“hey,” roman echoes, loose and easy with alcohol. something low in logan’s belly thrums pleasantly at the sound.

“check-in?” logan requests. “i know that this can be a—a lot.”

to put it delicately.

roman grins at him. “your friends are cool, this bar is cool. you’re cool. i love you so much.”

logan, who would later put this decision down to being plied with alcohol, pulls roman in by the collar and kisses him hard.

roman seems surprised, just for a moment, before he responds in kind, pulling logan in at the waist and kissing him back, equally enthusiastic.

his boyfriend is visiting, he’s making out with him in a bar like a normal college kid would make out with a significant other, and everything seems wonderful.

roman, looking thoroughly kissed, handles the ribbing and joking the boys start as soon as they get back to the table with good humor, grinning at logan like it’s a private joke between the two of them.

god, logan’s so in love with him.

⁂

"hey, babe?” roman says.

logan hums around his straw, looking at roman with half-lidded eyes. fuck he’s so hot.

roman shakes himself a little, trying to focus, before he asks, “on a scale of one to ten, how chill would the guys be if i suggested we go somewhere we can dance?”

logan swallows, and roman’s eyes follow the of his bobbing adam’s apple.

“probably very chill about it,” he says dryly.

roman smiles. “and how would you feel about going somewhere to dance with me?”

logan bites his lip, but still smiling.

“probably very enthusiastic about it,” logan says quietly.

roman grins at him. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

with a swiftness that probably belies how eager roman is at the very concept of holding logan close in his arms, roman calls out to derek, “hey, dude, is there a good club around here? i kinda wanna see y’all dance.”

derek puffs out his chest.

“oh, bro, you are not ready,” he says gleefully.

adam leans across the table.

“hey, wait, you’re, like, a professional dancer, right? maybe you can teach us a routine!”

oh, now roman has the perfect routine in mind.

⁂

adam has been known to get down at a party, okay. he’s a pretty decent dancer. his party trick is being able to swing around on poles installed into frat basements for “structural integrity.”

but, like, adam also knows that a literal professional probably has some tips, so he’d asked, right, which has now turned into—

“okay, again, from the start, ready?” roman asks, standing at the front of the group. janus and logan are at the edge of the room. adam’s pretty sure janus is recording this on his phone.

they’re also, like, in the center of most of the club’s attention, but roman seems very cool with it. which, likes, makes sense; dancing professionally, crowds come with the territory. the other six of his roommates are standing in loose lines, spaced out so they don’t kick each other in the heads.

“five, six, seven, eight,” roman starts, then, over the sound of six dudes who are all over six feet tall jump-kick then drop rapidly into what roman called a grand plié, which you would probably do slower for a stretch but this is CHOREO, sings, “now from the top, make it drop—”

⁂

logan, after trying so hard not to laugh at the sight of his boyfriend teaching tiktok dance choreography to what, ostensibly, looked like a group of typical frat boys, is attempting to catch his breath and hydrate at the bar.

well. dehydrate, technically. a vodka soda is certainly working to dehydrate him.

“hey,” roman pants, appearing from the crowd, flushed, with at least two more buttons popped than he’d had when they entered. “hot over there—can i—?”

before he can ask, logan offers his vodka soda, and roman says “thanks” before he gulps down a good portion of it, fanning himself.

“i love dancing,” he says happily.

“i know, dearest,” logan says, perhaps not as dryly as he would if they were not both intoxicated.

“oh! and i love this song!” roman says brightly, as the dj transitions into a new song.

logan smiles at him; the song is not a recent release, and logan thinks he might be able to place it.

“dance with me?” roman says, his eyes pleading. logan finds himself helpless to resist, and so he drains the rest of his drink.

roman smirks at him and takes hold of logan’s tie, gently leading him to a corner of the dance floor, rather than in the midst of the scrum of it, which logan appreciates; while he is perfectly willing to dance with roman, he is not so adept as to not make a fool of himself in the case of any impromptu dance circles.

there is, logan realizes once he listens to the lyrics, perhaps another motive of roman’s for dragging them into a less populated corner.

i’m telling you to loosen up my buttons, babe, but you keep frontin’, say what you’re gonna do to me, but i ain’t see nothing...

roman’s hands slide from logan’s tie to wrapping around logan’s shoulders, pulling logan so that they’re pressed up against each other, and logan grips roman’s hips, which are shifting sinuously to the beat.

“couldn’t dance like this at the chilton winter formal, could we?” roman says lowly into logan’s ear, and logan snickers.

“not unless we wanted to be lectured by mr. gardiner, no.”

“ugh, he was a fucker, i still haven’t forgiven him for being so strict about your math quizzes,” roman says, scowling. then, with a laugh, “no drawing lots to see who gets breathalyzed, no snooty rich kids to judge us—”

“i’m still surrounded by rich kids.”

“yeah, but your rich kids seem nice,” roman says thoughtfully. “‘cept for janus.”

“he’d take that as a compliment.”

“why did i bring up janus when i’m trying to grind on you,” roman mutters to no one in particular, and he then proceeds to handily distract logan by pressing impossibly closer.

roman’s hands slide up logan’s shoulders to briefly cup logan’s face, then slide back down to squeeze his shoulders, using the movement to roll his hips against him, and logan’s world narrows down to the heat of roman’s body, the scent of roman’s sweat and cologne, the beat of the song thrumming through to his very bones.

roman twists in his hands, leaning forward, then standing back upright to lean against logan, swaying his hips all the whlie. he reaches a hand lazily back, dragging it down logan’s face before cradling logan’s jaw.

logan twirls roman back to face him again, his grip on roman’s hips tight and possessive, and logan leans in to devour roman in a kiss. he can feel the pounding of hearts against his chest, and they’re so close he’s uncertain whose pulse is whose.

⁂

“—I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHO TALK BEHIND MY BACK ‘CUZ A BITCH KNEW BETTER THAN TO LET ME HEAR!” jordan screams at the top of his lungs, along with the rest of his bros. all ten of them have piled back into edward’s car, and roman has taken over the aux, which is actually a phenomenal move, he has put on banger after banger.

edward—the sole sober one in the car—is grinning to himself even as he turns into his parking spot near their house.

they all groan when he turns off the car, and therefore turns off the music.

“yeah, yeah,” edward says, good-natured. “everyone out, i wanna go to bed!”

everyone pours from the car, logan stumbling slightly when he jumps down from the suv.

“i’ve got you, my love,” roman says grandly, and squats before logan. logan snorts, slightly, but then proceeds to clamber onto roman’s back, accepting his piggy-back ride.

“onward!” roman declares, and jordan grins a bit, shaking his head, before he jogs ahead so he can open the front door for them. he watches logan giggle and mash his face into the side of roman’s neck, and he watches roman’s face glow.

the rest of the dudes kind of split off, from there. edward, true to his word, goes to bed; adam, derek, cory, and and andrew sit in front of the tv to start up a drunken game of mario kart; matt pours himself a glass of water and starts chugging it; jordan goes to grab his own water bottle from his room, because he has dish duty next and he doesn’t want to give himself too much trouble.

by the time he’s changed into more comfortable clothes and gotten his water, he runs into roman on the stairs.

“oh! hey, dude,” he says.

“hey,” roman says. “uh, hey, do you guys have spare blankets and pillows and stuff, and where do you keep them? i figured i’d probably crash on the floor or the couch or something.”

jordan surveys him.

“yeah?” he says, in a tone that’s carefully neutral. they continue down the stairs together.

“yeah,” roman says casually. “uh—i know he’d wanna cuddle, but we’re both a bit drunk, so. got him some water, got him into bed, he fell asleep pretty quick.”

jordan knows it’s the bare fucking minimum to take care of your drunk significant other, but he feels his respect for roman rise, even just a little bit. that’s a bro move.

“yeah, man,” jordan says. “uh—we’ve got blankets down in the living room, but some of the dudes are playing mario kart, so you might have a while to wait to free up the couch.”

roman brightens.

“oh, sick. does anyone play peach?”

jordan snorts. “you’re gonna have to fight someone for it.”

“bring it on,” roman says.

⁂

roman hums to himself, quietly, as he ascends the stairs. he has to take a couple minutes to juggle the plates in his hands to be able to open the door, but he succeeds eventually.

“rise and shine, nerdo,” roman sings, careful not to be too loud.

he sees logan stir, and, before roman can say anything in warning—

thump.

“fuck!” logan snarls, flopping back in bed with a hand to his forehead, glaring up at the ceiling that has grievously injured him.

“oh, baby,” roman says, setting down his plate on logan’s desk before he rises on tip-toes so he can see logan’s face. “lemme see.”

logan groans and pulls his pillow over his head.

“still a morning person, i see,” roman teases, before he nudges a plastic water bottle into the bed. “drink that, baby, it’ll make you feel better.”

“nerdo isn’t your best work,” logan grumbles, muffled by the pillow.

“yeah, well, i stayed up until three with the dudes playing mario kart,” roman says dryly. “birdo, nerdo?”

logan peeks out in time to grab the water bottle, squirm as upright as he can, and proceed to chug it as mechanically as possible.

“how’d you sleep?” logan says, once he’s drained about half of it.

“eh, fine,” roman says. “the couch is pretty comfy.”

logan frowns.

“it was couch or floor,” roman says, before logan can say anything. “i think we could maybe squeeze to fit up there, and considering we were, y’know—”

“i get it,” logan says.

“i was gonna make you a big breakfast, but,” roman says and hands over a plate with two pieces of toast sliced into triangles and slathered with crofter’s. “figured you’d like this better.”

logan smiles, taking the plate, and then leans wildly out of his bed in order to cup roman’s face and kiss him good morning.

the kiss is good. it’s very good. but—

“your breath stinks,” roman says, and logan chucks a pillow at him.

“you aren’t exactly a morning rose, either,” logan grumbles, and roman snorts, taking a bite of his own crofter’s with great fervor.

over their breakfast—logan in the bed, roman on the beanbag—they talk about their plans for the rest of the weekend; going on a walk around campus, going to see logan’s favorite spot in the library, getting tacos from the best little spot in town for lunch.

“granted,” logan says thoughtfully, “i have these ideas in place today, but we’ll see how the boys interfere with it.”

“i’d be fine if they did,” roman says.

“yeah?” logan says.

“yeah,” roman says. he grins up at logan. “wanna explain why they kept calling me step-daddy when i was making us toast?”

logan flops back on the bed with a groan, and, even with all of his theatrics, roman can tell logan’s very pleased that his boyfriend and his friends get along.

(they absolutely get along. roman has already promised to record a dance tutorial for them to “dancing queen” next.)

⁂

notes: major thank yous to @teacupfulofstarshine and @airiervessel for helping me flesh out the boys! songs in the order they’re mentioned: “love on top” by beyoncé, “wap” by cardi b. ft. megan thee stallion, “buttons” by the pussycat dolls, “thot shit” by megan thee stallion, “dancing queen” by abba.

#my fic #my fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #the sideshire files #wyliwf #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides

58 notes · View notes

slippinmickeys · 4 years

Text

Five Seconds (4/8)

If you’d like to read at AO3, you may do so here.

June 4, 2018

Mulder stood in the kitchen wearing only sweatpants, the rented house quiet around him. Scully had headed to the local Meijer for supplies of every stripe, and both kids had leapt at the chance to go with her, a rare occurrence the last few years, but a clear result of forced low profile and cabin fever.

He was nursing a rare cup of caffeinated coffee and watching a black squirrel make a nuisance of itself on the residence’s sole backyard bird feeder. When his new cell phone rang, he answered it out of muscle memory.

“Hello?”

“Hello Fox,” said the person on the other end of the line, “aren’t you a sound for sore ears.”

It took him a moment to place the voice.

“Lauren,” he said after a moment, smiling into the receiver, “it’s good to hear from you, too. I take it you got the information I sent you?”

Mulder had had Frohike send her their contact information as they’d previously agreed, and he assumed this was the first of her planned unplanned check-ins.

“It was a little cloak and dagger, even for the District,” she said, and Mulder could hear her smile over the line.

“And I always thought you lived for the drama,” he said companionably.

“Well, I got to wear my best Carmen SanDiego hat, so I guess I can’t be mad.”

Mulder chuckled into the receiver.

“How’s it going?” Lauren asked, her tone shifting to one of sober inquiry.

“It’s going.”

“Dana okay?” her question was sincere, and Mulder marveled how time could change a person.

“She’s good,” he said, “healthy. All systems go. I’m sure she’d want me to send you her best.”

“And the kids? How are they handling it all?”

Mulder sighed.

Will was adjusting, but Lily was miserable. Lonely and bored, unable to talk to friends back home and without the specter and excitement of starting school in the fall. She’d even begged to be able to get a summer job, even as just a waitress at the local Bennigan’s, but Mulder didn’t like the idea of her being away from the house for hours at a time, and Scully wasn’t sold on their borrowed Social Security numbers passing an employment check.

“The kids are… okay.”

“Going that well, huh?” she asked.

“Lil is pretty miserable,” he admitted.

“Of course she’s miserable,” Lauren scolded him, “she’s 18 years old and stuck in a house with her well-meaning parents. She should be at the beach with friends getting day drunk on Bud Light-”

“-she would never-” Mulder interrupted, to which Lauren outright laughed in his ear.

“-I assure you, she already has!”

Mulder sighed again. “Aside from dropping her off at the lake and buying her a rack of shit beer, you got any ideas?”

“College boys in tight pants,” Lauren said.

“Excuse me?” Mulder asked, taken aback.

“Take the family to a football game Fox, you’re in a Big Ten town for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s not football season yet.”

“Just take her somewhere with a lot of people. And give her a little bit of freedom. And when it is football season?”

“Yeah?” Mulder asked.

“Take her to see the tight pants.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

September 3, 2018

It had been months and they started to relax, maybe a bit too much. They were alert, but comfortable. Maybe complacent, Mulder couldn't tell. All he knew was that if he kept the kids in the house for much longer, they'd kill each other and possibly him and Scully in the crossfire, and it would defeat the whole purpose of their hiding out. That said, all was quiet on the homefront -- Darlene and the Gunmen, and to a lesser extent, Doggett, Reyes and Skinner -- had heard nothing with their ears to the ground.

He and Scully had discussed it, and decided that they would let the kids out of the house. They allowed them to socialize occasionally, if they promised to be careful. Will had made a couple of friends around the neighborhood, playing roller hockey in their cul de sac, but Lily hadn't had as much luck, or as much motivation. She had been quiet and keeping mostly to herself, and come September, Mulder had decided to finally take Lauren's advice. They were going to a football game.

William was beside himself with excitement which made up for Lily's lack of enthusiasm. Scully had opted out of attending, citing her increasing need of accessible bathrooms and the inevitable long lines at ladies rooms in sports arenas.

They took the bus to the edge of the MSU campus -- the first time any of them had been on it since moving to the town several months before. There were people everywhere -- most dressed in the hometown colors of green and white, but a rare few -- looking as lost on campus as the Mulders themselves -- in the brown and gold of the visiting team.

Mulder had ducked into the student union to get a campus map, whereupon William insisted he buy all three of them something supporting the hometown team. Lily opted out, but William and Mulder walked out each in a brand new ball cap, the brims stiff and flat -- in addition, William was carrying a big foam finger emblazoned with the number 1 and the gruff face of Michigan State's Spartan mascot, Sparty.

"It's this way," Mulder said, consulting his map and pointing south, and they set off following streams of people headed toward the stadium which sat in the middle of campus.

The day was delightfully mild, and while the sun shone, there were fat clouds everywhere that would cover it as soon as you were at risk of overheating. There seemed to be tailgate parties set up at increasing concentrations the closer they got to the stadium, the air thick with the scent of grilling meat and tinny stereos playing the home school's fight song.

There were frat boys throwing a football back and forth every thirty or so feet, and crowds of coeds sipping beer from green Solo cups, hovering around games of corn hole and beer pong, laughing while they clung to each other like the last few Cheerios floating in a bowl of milk.

Mulder stole a glance at Lily, who looked at them wistfully. School had just started here at Michigan State and the week before at UVA, and Mulder could tell his daughter was fairly heartbroken about not being able to attend.

Mulder pulled up short and Lily and William both stopped several steps past him and turned to look at him expectantly.

"One sec," he said and walked over to a large tent wherein an alumni organization was selling hot dogs and brats to raise funds. He bought three bratwurst and a couple of sodas and walked them back to his kids, hands full and pockets overflowing with napkins and little packets of ketchup and mustard.

He nodded toward a low stone wall that ran along the length of one of the sidewalks and they all sat down and ate sloppily, ketchup plopping to the sidewalk that they leaned over so as not to spill on their clothes. William was of course done first and snapped open his soda, slurping from it happily.

"They call it pop here," he said, raising his can and giving his father a cheeky smirk.

"No one cares, Billy," Lily said, wiping her lips delicately with a napkin and setting the last quarter of the brat on the wall beside her. "I'm stuffed," she declared.

Will happily scarfed the rest of her sausage and Mulder was about to suggest they start moving again toward the stadium when a frisbee glided through the air and scuffed to the ground at their feet. Lily jumped off the wall and picked it up, looking around to find its owner, who was trotting toward them in droopy cargo shorts and an overlarge school shirt that said "I BLEED GREEN."

Mulder shook his head as Lily pulled back and winged it back toward the guy, sailing it in a perfect arc into his waiting hands.

The kid smiled at her, teeth and all.

"Nice arm!" the kid said, giving her one more charming look before trotting back toward his friends who were waiting further across the Diag that cut through the center of campus.

Mulder glanced at Lily who was wearing a small but fading smile.

He stood, balling up the napkin and sausage detritus. He turned to Lily impulsively.

"You want a beer?" he asked her.

She almost blanched and gave him a queer look.

"A beer?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, "you're a college kid now, no reason you shouldn't enjoy a cold one before a football game like all these other coeds."

Lily gave him a suspicious look just as Will piped up, "I want a beer."

"No," Mulder said, cutting off any complaints with a sharp look and then he walked over to a fraternity tent and talked for a moment to the kid that was manning the keg. After a few words, he handed over a few bills of cash and returned to his kids, handing Lily a dripping plastic cup.

He took a sip of his own cup and inclined his head at his daughter.

"Not the best," he said, while she took a tentative sip.

She smiled over the rim of the cup but kept her eyes on the ground.

"Tastes like college," she said, and Mulder couldn't help but smile.

XxX

"Hey Frisbee," Lily heard from several feet to her right.

She stood up from the drinking fountain in a nook of the stadium in between lavatories, and used her wrist to wipe her mouth dry.

The guy who lost his frisbee at her feet while they were eating before the game was standing only yards away, a small cocksure smile on his lips. Lily tilted her head at him.

"I thought that was you," he went on.

She nodded awkwardly and stepped away from the drinking fountain so the person behind her could drink.

"I think you're in the wrong stadium," he said, and when she looked at him in confusion, he smiled kindly and pointed at her shirt.

She'd donned a UVA sweatshirt for the game out of a sense of loyalty or rebellion (she wasn't sure which, if she were being honest) and she only realized when they stepped onto campus how much it actually made her stand out.

"This isn't the UVA game?" she said mock seriously, "God, I took a left heading into Charlottesville and I guess I should have taken a right." The comment earned her a chuckle and a genuine smile. "Guess the extra ten hours in the car should have been my first clue."

The guy took a few steps toward her and held out his hand.

"Travis," he said by way of introduction, and she shook his hand politely. It was warm in hers, and his grip was firm but brief.

"Lillian," Lily said, almost forgetting to introduce herself with her cover name.

"That's pretty," Travis said, and Lily could feel herself blushing, feeling awkward that it wasn't really her name. "So you go to UVA?"

She nodded. "Deferred for a semester while my folks moved here." Her father had told her to stick as close as she could to their actual stories when telling people their covers in order to keep it all straight.

"Cool," said Travis. They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"I should get back to my seat," she said, "halftime's almost over."

People were streaming back into the seating areas, and she could hear the marching band keeping tempo as they marched off the field.

Travis shoved his hands into his pockets and for a moment looked slightly bashful.

"Yeah," he said, turning away and taking a few steps, before turning back. "Hey, you want to hang out sometime?"

Lily thought to herself that just about anything sounded better than having to spend one more night at home playing Hearts at the dining room table.

"Sure," she said, and Travis pulled out his phone and handed it to her.

She put in the number of the phone that Darlene had given her and felt only a little weird entering "Lillian" in the name box.

When she handed Travis back the phone, he used his other hand to lightly touch her arm.

"Hey, it was nice meeting you," he said.

"You too," she smiled and wandered back to her seat, trying very hard to keep a smile off her face.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"So..." Scully started, not sure how to broach the subject, other than just to spit it out, "Lily wants to know if she can go 'hang out with a guy.'"

She was sitting at the dining room table sipping on an iced tea, the dew of condensation slippery and cold on her fingertips. She was feeling pendulous and heavy, the high of the second trimester given way to the rolling agony of the third. Her husband, as she had suspected he would, looked suddenly aghast.

"She... what?"

"She got asked out, Mulder, and would like to know if it was okay with us if she went."

William came breezing through the kitchen then, opening up the fridge door and hanging in front of it, blankly staring at its contents, unimpressed.

"Pick something or don't, Will," Mulder said testily to his current youngest, "but please stop letting all the cold out of the fridge."

Will grabbed a soda and stood while the fridge door closed on its own behind him.

"That's Billy to you," he said, mocking insult, and made his way slowly out of the kitchen, staring at Mulder who affectionately reached out as he passed and messed his red curls into an orange soda froth on the top of his head.

"You need a haircut," Mulder said, and Will lifted his nose, shaking his hair out with dignified hauteur.

"So do you," the boy said and left the room.

Scully chuckled. "Don't take it out on him," she said.

Mulder shook himself and turned back to her.

"Take what out on him?"

"That your daughter is growing up and you're not ready. You look like you did the night she went to prom with Derek Smead."

Mulder looked completely affronted.

"He didn't even come to the house! He just had the limo honk and she ran out the door. You didn't get any pictures! Who does that? No self-respecting gentleman. I honestly still don't believe he's a real person."

Scully chuckled again. "And she left him at the dance after an hour and took the limo with five friends to the Sonic drive-in. She's got a good head on her shoulders, Mulder."

"I know she does."

"So what do you think? Is it safe to let her date?"

"I don't like it."

"I didn't ask if you liked it. I asked if you thought it was safe."

Mulder blew out a raspberry. Scully knew that he was thinking the same thing she was -- they'd let Will hang out with a few new friends so long as he was careful. Lily arguably had more common sense by nature of her age (and her gender, thought Scully). She would take precautions and employ the minimal tradecraft Mulder and Scully had taught her.

"What do you think?" Mulder asked her.

"I think she's 18 years old and we're lucky she even ran it by us. If she were away at school, she'd be making these decisions for herself."

Mulder's shoulders slumped.

"As long as she's careful," he finally said.

"I'll give her some condoms," Scully muttered, an offhand remark.

"Scully!" Mulder blanched.

"I just wanted to see the look on your face," Scully laughed.

Mulder shook his head and turned to walk out of the room.

Scully was still chuckling minutes later.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Hey Frisbee," said a voice from behind her.

Lily turned to see Travis standing several feet away in the middle of the footbridge. He was wearing black flip flops, a pair of long khaki shorts and a navy blue polo shirt. His hair -- dark tousled waves, cut short but shaggy -- was poking in all directions out of a university ball cap, which, she was relieved to see, was pristinely white without a yellowing band of sweat or scuzz. His face looked freshly shaved and he was smiling.

"Hey yourself," she said, and took a step toward him.

He reached into his pocket as she approached and pulled out a ziplock sandwich bag, filled with a gritty grey substance. She took it with some hesitation.

"Is this... a bag of oatmeal?" she asked.

He colored and put both hands up.

"Okay, so: I was going to bring your flowers, but then I thought you know what would be cute? Flour . So I went to our pantry and I'm looking at this giant bag of flour and I'm like what the hell is she going to do with a giant bag of flour? And then I saw the oatmeal and thought -- well, we're meeting on the footbridge, we could feed the ducks! ...So I brought you oatmeal. Bread is bad for ducks."

Despite the lengthy diatribe, Lily laughed. "It was nice of you to think of the ducks," she said.

"Well," he said, and walked with her to the railing of the footbridge, which crossed the Red Cedar River. "The bag itself is multipurpose. If you think it'd be fun, I thought we could rent a canoe later and go down the river?"

"What does that have to do with the bag?" she asked, leaning over the railing and looking down into the tannin-tinted water. A cluster of ducks, trained to anticipate food, swam quickly toward them.

"We can put our phones in it," he said, leaning into her shoulder a little. "I myself have been through the gauntlet of canoe training at Camp Quitcherbitchin as a young lad, but you're an unknown quantity, Frisbee. What if you dunk us? I aim to save our electronics."

Lily laughed again, charmed despite herself. She opened the baggie and threw a handful of oats to the waiting ducks below, which scurried as fast as they could swim for the feast. Lily offered Travis some, and he took a handful and cast it out. They fed the ducks for a minute or so of comfortable silence.

Finally, Lily asked: "Camp Quitcherbitchin?"

Travis smiled.

"Sleep-away summer camp up north. I went every year. It's actually called Camp Nageesh, but some of the counselors were somewhat less than tolerant of complaints, so the campers called it Quitcherbitchin.”

Lily chuckled. "Canoes, huh?"

"Plus sailboats, swimming and archery. I refuse to divulge which I have a higher level of competency in, in case you're some kind of polymath with a competitive bent."

"You aren't one of those guys who can't stand it when a girl is better than you at something, are you?" Lily asked.

“Are you a polymath with a competitive bent?” Travis grabbed another handful of oatmeal and threw it toward a mother with a brood of ducklings that were having trouble getting into the mix.

“I’ve got some game,” Lily said, arching an eyebrow that would have made her mother proud.

"In that case," he said, turning toward her. His eyes were a mossy green, like her father's. He gave her a small smile, “I look forward to being outmatched."

"Well," said Lily, intrigued. She scattered out the last bit of oatmeal and, blowing some of the grit from the bag, put her phone into it and handed it to Travis for him to do the same. "Let's see what you're made of, Paddles."

XxX

"We seem to be drifting a bit to starboard," Lily called over her shoulder. Travis had taken the backseat ("Do you mind if I steer?" he'd asked). They'd managed to board and push off okay -- the bored-looking livery attendant having given them minimal instruction, but held the craft as they both lifted themselves gingerly aboard.

"I'm aware of that," said Travis, his voice a little tense for the first time.

"You said you were steering," she teased him. They were rapidly making for the opposite shore of the river, the canoe swinging sideways with the current.

"I'm aware of that too," he said back, and then a moment later, she felt the canoe sway radically, followed by a splash. She grabbed the side of the craft for dear life and then swung her head to look behind her. Travis had jumped out of the canoe and was now holding it by the triangle at the stern with one hand, paddle in the other; halting their momentum, which had been about to take them into a bramble of cedar branches hanging low over the water.

"Oh my god!" Lily squeaked. "Are you okay? Did you fall?"

"I jumped," Travis said, "If you headed home with a rat's nest of cedar sprays in your hair, you might not go out with me again."

"And they say chivalry is dead," Lily said, setting her oar down on the bottom of the canoe.

"Will you go out with me again?" Travis said hopefully, and the smile he flashed her made her want to say yes, but instead she teased:

"Too early to make that call."

"This water is really cold, Lillian," he said, and turned, pulling the canoe behind him into the water upstream and back toward the livery.

"It looks it," Lily said. "If I do go out with you again, let's stick with something land-based, huh?"

Travis threw a grin at her and kept trudging, clearly trying his best to keep the craft steady so she didn't fall in herself. She checked her pockets briefly for their phones, which she'd offered to hold on to, and watched him. The river was relatively shallow -- he was a tall guy and the water was only soaking the cuff of his shorts.

"Your parents should call Camp Quitcherbitchin and get their money back, Travis," she said, canting her face up to the sun and closing her eyes briefly. She shrieked when the canoe suddenly lurched to one side. She grabbed the side and looked at her date, who had stopped and was wearing a mischievous grin. He was still wearing the dorky orange life jacket that they'd been required to don, and the whole situation made Lily start laughing.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball," Travis said, turning again to continue the trudge back to base. "I'll have you know that I learned how to canoe on a lake. I forgot to account for one variable."

"The current?" Lily asked.

"The current," he admitted.

They made it back to shore and he helped her out of the canoe, explaining to the still benumbed livery worker that they wouldn't be back, but still throwing a soggy five dollar bill in the tip jar. After retrieving his flip flops from the bottom of the small boat, he offered to take Lily to the campus Dairy Store for ice cream.

"Your campus has a Dairy Store?" she asked him curiously.

"This is Moo U, Lillian," he explained, steering her a few blocks from the river to a large brick building beyond the main engineering hall. "This street is Farm Lane. We have cattle."

Once inside they reviewed the offerings, and Lily noticed that they had a flavor for every university in the Big Ten conference -- even their arch rivals. About which he announced, "I'll buy you anything but the Maize & Blueberry. I like you, but even I have my limits."

Once they had their cones (she with Boilermaker Brownie and he with Hoosier Daddy ("basically strawberry," he explained)), they settled onto a picnic table in the shade.

"So," Travis said, licking a drop that had melted onto his knuckle, "why'd you end up deferring this semester?"

Lily swallowed the bite in her mouth without chewing. They had prepared cover stories but she hadn't yet needed to use hers. Stick with the truth as much as you can , said her father's voice.

"My dad got a job here and my mom is pregnant. She was on bedrest for a while and needed help."

Travis was looking at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to elaborate, but she didn't -- continuing to nervously lick her cone. After a long moment of waiting, he kindly plowed ahead, asking her about her major and telling her about his. He was a sophomore, from a town in the northern part of the state, and she found him inherently easy to talk to and interesting, and wondered, idly, if that was because he really was interesting or if she were just starved for company and attention.

When they finished up, they threw away their napkins in a nearby trash can and stood looking at each other, only a little awkwardly.

“So... “ Travis started, “still too early to make the call?”

She smiled, remembering what she’d told him in the canoe about going out with him again. “I like your chances.”

He smiled back and she felt a little thrill. “Lillian, will you go out with me again?” he asked.

“Dry land stuff?”

“The driest.”

“In that case, yes.”

She was still feeling the soft kiss he'd given her cheek hours later as she sat around the dining room table, fielding invasive questions from her father and trying to avoid her mother’s eye.

#MSR #AU #Sequel #Of the Eight Winds #X-Files #Fanfic #My fic

33 notes · View notes

dripkingpetey · 4 years

Text

love-e.pettersson

ive been working on this for a few days and im kinda proud of it! would love some feedback from you or requests for other story lines, i promise i’ll stop doing the friends to lovers storylines haha. i also accidentally deleted this and i was so sacred i couldnt get it back but here it is! i hope you enjoy.

*lowercase intended!*

2.2k words

he loves you, you know that right?

“why did you drag me here, i really don’t like hockey and you know that.” you said as you sighed to your bestfriend lucie while she pulls you down to your seats in rogers arena.

“i know you don’t.” lucie said with a bright smile on her face. “but, you’re gonna learn to like it.” you look at her in confusion. “so, this is your way of torturing me as if you don’t already torture me enough by bringing me to parties.” you said while sitting down and looking at the players who are starting to get on the ice. “maybe.” lucie said with a wide grin and a mischievous look on her face before puck drop starts.

you’ve never been big on hockey, which is surprising considering you have lived in vancouver your whole life and your family is super big hockey fans. you also aren't the most extroverted person. sure, you’d go out to bars sometimes but mostly just with your close friends.

“what part of this sport do you even like?” you said as the game is going into the third period the canucks are now up 4-1 against the opposing team which you don’t even really know who they are. “well, if I’m being honest some of them are really hot but mostly cause of the sport.” you scoffed at her response. “none of them are hot from where i can see.” lucie looked at you with a shocked look. “oh you’ll get it once you get to know the players more.” you give her a confused look and put your full attention back to the game.

canucks ended up winning the game 5-2, lucie was very happy about it and you could tell cause she wanted to go out for a couple drinks and you didn’t want to say no so you agreed to go.

you had been at the bar for about twenty minutes and lucie was already gone which isn’t surprising, she was probably sleeping with some guy right now.

you started to panic a little when a creepy old dude came up to you and started hitting on you. “hey pretty girl, want to come home with me?” he started putting his hand on your arm which was resting on the table. you look around for lucie in panic but she’s no where to be found.

you then feel a pair of arms sneak around your waist and you get even more freaked out.

“hey babe, sorry i was gone for so long.” elias says to you with a smile but then proceeds to give the creepy dude the alien death stare which worked. after the dude leaves elias faces you and starts speaking. “sorry i touched you like that, it looked like you were alone and that guy was creeping you out so i thought you could use some help.” he shoots an apologetic smile at you.

“its okay,” you give him a smile back. “thank you a lot actually, i have no idea where my friend went.” you take another look around the bar before looking back and him.

“i’m elias by the way.” he smiles at you while holding his hand out for you to shake it. “y/n.” you say before shaking his hand.

“so elias, what are you doing in this bar on a thursday night?” you gesture for him to sit down next to you. “if i told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” elias lets out a soft laugh while sitting down across from you. “tell me, i wanna know.” elias sighs lightly before he starts speaking again. “i’m with them,” he gestures over to brock, jake, quinn, thatcher and troy. you look over to see them all waving at you and laughing at elias, you laugh softly and wave back at the before turning your attention back to elias. “ah, so i’m guessing you’re on the canucks?”

elias lets out a nervous laugh. “yeah, why don’t we go somewhere else where the boys aren’t up my ass?” you take another sip out of your drink. “i would love to.” he holds out his hand for you and as you guys walk out you can hear the guys chirping, but when you look over to elias you can see him giving the death stare to the boys and it makes you laugh. “you have a scary death stare jeez.” elias leads you to his car. “that’s surprisingly what the fans love me for.” he smiles at you before opening the car

door for you.

“…and that’s all what led me to being on the canucks.” elias said to you while eating a chip out of the chip bowl you had prepared. it had been a couple hours since you guys left the bar and went back to your apartment, you don’t know why but it felt like you and elias had such a strong bond already that you both felt like you can talk for hours and hours and never get tired of each other, he felt the same way too. “jeez, i kinda sound like a douche. i’ve been talking about myself all night, please tell me more about you.” elias said to you while you laughed at his words.

“it’s all good, i’ve been the one asking questions anyways.” you smiled while responding to him. “no seriously, tell me something about you before i have to go which i really don’t want to by the way.”

you look at the time and realize its almost twelve am so you proceed to give him a quick response. “well, i’ve lived in vancouver my whole life. and i’m currently going to ubc as a nursing student.” you smiled at his now very amused face.

“see, that’s something i wouldn’t have known if you didn’t say it,” he laughs a little before he finishes his sentence. “can i get your number? i have practice early tomorrow morning but i’m free for the rest of the day if you want to hang out.”

you smile at his words and take his phone from him. “of course you can, i’m free tomorrow too just give me a call.” you said while handing his phone back to him after you’ve entered your number. elias gives you a wide grin and you both get up so you could walk him to the door. “goodnight elias.” you look up at him with a smile as he’s standing in the doorway. “goodnight y/n, sweet dreams.” he said and then started to walk down the hallway towards the elevator. “pettersson!” you called out at him and he turns around confused. “text me when you get home.” he gives you the thumbs up and you close your door and head to bed.

no ones ever shown this much attention to elias before, at least no one he’s truly cared about.

he smiled to himself on his drive home cause he was excited to text you again.

*contact name changed to “y/n<3”*

text message to y/n<3:i just got home, thank you for the awesome night :).

it’s been a couple weeks since you and elias had met at the bar, you basically hung out with each other anytime you could.

you were each others best friends at this point, sure the guys would make fun of elias for being in love with you but you couldn’t see it, elias knows he has some feelings for you but he wasn’t sure about it yet. he also didn’t want to risk the amazing friendship you guys had started.

“hey, are you coming to the game tonight?” elias asked over the phone to you.

you let out a sigh before you start speaking. “i’ll try, schools been really hard lately but i should be able to finish studying tonight.” elias could hear the tiredness in you voice and it hurt him to see you like this. “y/n, its okay. you don’t have to try and make it, focus on school its way important. you have many more games of mine that you can watch.” he left out a soft chuckle at the end of his sentence.

“i’ll still try though, i’ll give you a text if i can make it.” you said to him as you looked at the last large text book you had to read through and look at the giant pile of coffee cups surrounding your desk.

“okay, love you, i gotta go.” “love you too e, good luck.” you both quickly exchanged goodbyes as you started reading your last text book. you knew there was no way you were going to be able to make it to his game tonight and you felt really bad, you sighed it off as you put your attention back to studying and occasionally looking at the canucks game that was now playing on your tv.

the game had ended, canucks lost by one but petey is a sore loser so obviously he was sad, which made him show up at your apartment, he brought pizza from your favourite place downtown.

you were passed out on the couch though, which resulted in elias having to pull out his spare key and sneaking into your apartment.

“elias?” you mumbled out as you felt him sit next to where you were laying on the couch, he motioned for you to lay you head on his lap and you did.

“hey sleepy girl, i brought our favourite pizza.” he said to you with a smile. no matter how bad of a day elias was having, you could always make him smile.

you positioned your head so you’re now facing up at him and you give him a big smile. “thank you, can we snuggle and watch a movie?” elias starts rubbing your cheek softly. “of course we can y/n.”

the night ended with you and elias falling asleep on the couch together while watching a movie he had picked out, you both forgot about all the stress from today and just enjoyed the moment.

“he loves you, you know that right?” brock said to you as he came by and sat next to you.

it was the start of summer, tanev decided to host a little barbecue for the whole team before everyone left vancouver and went back to their home towns for the summer.

you were sitting in the backyard watching elias talk to huggy. “what?” you said to brock with confusion. “no he doesn’t.”

brock scoffed at your response. “dude, you can’t be serious. how do you not see it.”

you thought about what brock said for awhile before you gave him a response. “does he talk about me?” you looked at brock while taking a sip of your drink.

“does he talk about you? of course he fucking does y/n, all the time. especially when you don’t show up to our games, it’s worse when we’re on the road.”

you smile to yourself at what brock said.

you were quite tipsy by the end of the night and elias didn’t want to let you go home alone, so you spent the night at his place.

“elias?” you said in your sweet drunken tone as you both settled into his bed, and you faced your body in his direction.

“yes?” he said while playing with your hair softly.

“brock said something to me earlier,” you said while pulling your body close to his.

“of course he did,” he said with a sigh. “what’d he say this time?”

“apparently you talk about me a lot?” you said with a soft laugh and your fingers now tracing up and down his back.

“yeah, yeah i do. i talk shit about you all the time.” he says sarcastically knowing where this conversation was going.

“hey!” you said as you playfully punched him. “i was going to do something but i guess not anymore.” you said with a huff.

he lifts your chin up to face him. before you knew it you guys were kissing each other, it was a soft, long and sweet kiss.

elias pulled away with a big grin on his face and you did too. you talked to each other for the rest of the night, you ended up falling asleep before elias did but he did too shortly after.

you woke up to the smell of elias making waffles, you hugged him from behind and he didn’t even notice you were awake until you did that.

“it smells really good,” you said to elias before kissing his cheek and begging for him to hug you.

he pulls you into his grip and whispers in your ear. “do you wanna go to sweden with me for the summer?”

you look up at him with slight shock. “yeah, why not.” you said to him with a smile and he gets very excited and spins you around, you kiss for awhile until you smell something burning and you pull away.

“shit.” elias mumbles as he deals with the burnt waffles and you’re both laughing your asses off.

#elias pettersson #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson imagine #petey #pettersson #nhl canucks #vancouver canucks #canucks hockey #canucks #vancouver canucks x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl hockey

119 notes · View notes

doggernaut · 3 years

Note

couch to 5k because you+running+fic gives me hearteyes (@parvuls)

Oh, thank you! The premise of this fic is sort of a personality swap AU, where Jack is a baker and is exactly as intense about it as he is about hockey, and Bitty is a personal trainer who is more of the enthusiastically encouraging type than drill sergeant.

Throw in some meddling Zimmerparents who meet Bitty and think he’s the perfect person to get their career-focused son to relax a little and maybe even start dating again. But ... it doesn’t go quite as planned.

Jack, you ding dong, Bitty is trying to flirt with you!

“Your parents told me you used to play hockey too?”

“Yeah, up until college. I played for Samwell University for two years, but at the beginning of my junior year I broke my foot. It was completely unrelated to hockey.” This part is a little embarrassing, but Bitty still looks interested, so he tells the story anyway. “The football team crashed a party we threw after we won a big game against Yale. I went after them and as I was chasing them out the door I tripped on one of the front steps and just landed the wrong way. Between the surgery and recovery, I was out for the season.”

“But it sounds like you saved your team from those brutes,” Bitty says. “You didn’t go back to playing after it healed?”

Jack shakes his head. “It took a little while for me to accept I was done for the season, but my friend Larissa was studying in Kenya that first semester and she started encouraging me to look into study abroad programs, which weren’t ever an option when I was playing. I found out about a last minute opportunity to study in France the second semester, and it worked with my history major, so I signed up.”

Sometimes, when Jack tells this story, people tune out. It’s just not as interesting as playing NCAA ice hockey. But Bitty is nodding his head and smiling encouragingly. Jack continues.

“So, uh, I went to France and we lived with host families instead of on campus where we studied. The family I lived with was an older couple who owned a bakery. I ended up helping out a lot on the weekends if I didn’t have to study or go on sightseeing trips with my cohort, and that’s when I started to think I might enjoy it as a career. When my program ended they invited me to stay with them for the summer and actually do an apprenticeship.”

“So that history major …”

“Ha. I did end up finishing my degree but I went back to France again after I graduated and stayed for a year, just learning from Marie and Jean.”

“And then you came back and opened your own place?”

“My parents helped me out a little, with the financing.” Sometimes this part is embarrassing, because Jack has worked hard for what he has but he isn’t exactly a self-made man. “But I’ve been paying them back.”

“You certainly don’t need their help getting people in the door,” Bitty says. “The lines on Sunday morning speak for themselves.”

“People really like doughnuts and I only make them on Sundays,” Jack explains with a shrug.

“The readers of Providence Magazine voted your place ‘Best in Providence’ two years in a row. You did the wedding cake for Alexei Mashkov and Vanessa Reyes, ” he adds, referencing the nuptials of one of the Providence Falconers’ most popular players and a local on-air sports reporter.

“I guess I do work hard,” Jack says. “Like Papa says, it doesn’t leave much time for a life outside of the bakery.”

“Well,” Bitty says brightly, “that’s why I’m here. Now, it sounds like you don’t have any problem setting and reaching your goals, so why don’t we just shift that from work to play?” He winks, and Jack thinks he might die. “I find it easier when I think of exercise as something fun rather than a chore,” he adds. “What do you enjoy?”

“I …” Jack hasn’t really thought about working out, beyond the occasional weekend jog with his parents’ dog Pepper, in a long time. “I like to jog?” He’s pretty sure he sounds like an idiot, but Bitty smiles encouragingly.

“That’s great! Anything else?”

“Sometimes I get out on the rink with Papa and we pass the puck back and forth.”

“Good,” Bitty says, nodding and making a note on his iPad. “I used to play a little hockey myself; it’s great cross training. Do you have any current fitness goals?”

“I guess … I guess just something basic to get started again? It’s been a long time since I’ve been regularly active.”

“Taking that first step can be difficult,” Bitty agrees. “A lot of my clients are people who used to be active and got sidelined because of injury, or a busy career, or having kids. Lots of good reasons to let things slide, but it’s so hard to get moving again. The good news is that it gets easier once you get back in the habit. Now, just from talking to you I know you seem to do well when you have a goal for yourself, so what do you think of something like a Couch to 5K program? We can choose a race to train for so you’ll have something to work toward as you get stronger.”

“I could do that,” Jack agrees. Back in college, when he was still playing hockey, he easily ran that distance a few mornings a week.

Bitty looks pleased at how easy this is. “I have a training group starting up for the Falcs 5K that’s coming up around the holidays. You familiar with that? They collect gifts and coats for kids in foster care. It’s part of the team’s community outreach.” Jack nods. “The typical Couch to 5K program is nine weeks long, so that’ll give us a bit of a cushion. I doubt you’re able to get up early and train with my group since you open so early, but I can meet you one-on-one a few evenings a week. You’d be responsible for doing the rest of the weekly workouts on your own.”

“That should be okay. I can use my parents’ gym if I need to.”

Bad Bob is very disappointed in his son.

“I met with Eric today,” Jack tells his father on the phone that evening.

“Oh?” Jack can’t quite tell what that tone is in his “oh,” but it’s more than casual interest. “How’d it go?”

“It went pretty well. We talked about goals, mostly.”

“Goals?”

“It helps him develop a plan. Right now he thinks a Couch to 5K program is the best route. He’s going to put together a schedule and we’re going to get together again to go over it.”

Bob is silent for so long Jack thinks the call has dropped.

“Let me see if I’m understanding this correctly,” he finally says. “You met with Eric today, and hired him to be your personal trainer?”

“It was your idea,” Jack reminds him. “You kept telling me I need to take more time for myself, and I finally decided you’re right. I never should have let things get this bad.”

“Oh, Jack,” Bob sighs. “You know what? I’m proud of you for taking this step. But I hope you know your mother and I didn’t introduce you to Eric because we think you need to change anything about yourself. We just want you to enjoy life outside of work. We’re so proud of the work you’ve put into the bakery, but we hate seeing you give up on the activities and social life most young people your age are enjoying. If working with Eric will help you find some balance, that’s great.”

“Yeah.” For some reason, Jack feels like he’s missing something important about this conversation.

“Hold on, I think your mother wants to talk to you.” There are a few moments of silence, followed by a brief conversation between his parents that Jack can’t quite make out, then Alicia greets him.

“Papa tells me you’re starting a running program with Eric,” she says. “Do you need me to help you shop for some clothes?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jack assures her flatly. “I have stuff to wear.”

“Those old basketball shorts and one of your old Samwell t-shirts?”

“Maman, it’s fine.”

“Honey, you know your father still gets free stuff sent to him all the time. Most of it is still brand new. Come over and at least pick up a few new tech shirts. They’ll keep you cooler when you’re out there running. Those old cotton t-shirts you wear are so heavy ...”

Thank you for this ask! This is a WIP I think about a lot and go back and forth between wondering if it’s too niche and thinking I should just finish it.

18 notes · View notes

topherfoxtrot · 3 years

Text

Ice cold eyes❄️

❄️Anders Cain smut yeahh. Don't worry you don't need to watch the movie, just keep in mind he's a hockey player with daddy and anger issues.

✨As usual reader is first person and neutral. The dialogue is fun but the text gets super explicit at the end. Be advised. TWs include sex obviously, daddy calling, feet kissing and cum swallow.

🙏Don't forget to like, reblog or comment anything if you enjoyed this piece of moral depravity ^^

Being Anders' neighbor was weird. Some days I could listen to him screaming at the tv or at the cellphone. Some nights I could hear his bed moving around while he had sex. Sometimes his apartment would stay in absolute silence for almost a month. Other times I could listen to him crying in the dark. Those usually came after he had a phone call with his dad.

Tonight was one of those nights. I have a really good hearing so I could always hear his cellphone's ringtone. I paused the Netflix show I was watching and silently walked towards the wall so I could hear him better. Anders' 'hey dad' was kinda of shy. There was some silence. He tried to speak but his father on the other end of the call interrupted him. Anders listened to whatever his dad was saying in silence, except for an occasional deep sigh. He tried to speak again but was interrupted once more. Anders finished the call with a "yes sir".

I knew what was coming but I couldn't take myself away from the wall. I listened to the few dragged footsteps Anders made before collapsing on what I assumed was his couch. Anders cried as silently as he could, I never saw his tears but I could listen to the sniffs. At this point a huge part of me had already decided going to his house so I could help him in some way. I had to wait for the next stage though.

Anders got up and growled. Like a feral animal he approached his punching bag and started to beat the shit out of it. After living next to Anders for more than a year I could actually pinpoint when he was casually training and when he was having one of those anger releasing moments. I walked around my house trying to come up with an excuse to pay him a visit while the punching continued.

There was not a cup of sugar or borrowed plastic pot or any favor to return. We barely ever talked to each other apart from the eventual good mornings and good evenings we would say to each other when we crossed on the hall. Hell I only knew his name because I heard some of his friends saying it in own of those boys nights they have.

I pressed my lips and frowned in disappointment before walking back to the wall. The punching had stoped. I took a deep breath while gathering the courage to actually go talk to him. I left my apartament and walked towards his door still minding my steps as if I was doing something imoral (like invading his privacy). It took me a couple moments to actually knock on his door. I heard him moving around, he clearly wasn't expecting anyone.

When Anders opened the door the first thing I noticed was the bandaid on his nose and the little wound on his left eyebrow. And of course his eyes were bloated due to the recent crying. We were both wearing the same clothes: sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He sniffled hard before talking softly.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm gonna be honest with you." I switched the weight on my feet, "I know you have been crying."

Anders looked at me like I've just caught him completely naked. His eyes traveled to my bare feet and up to my head real fast. They crossed the hall and then stopped at my eyes. It felt like there was more than one sentence forming inside his head at the same time. I purposefully passed my hands on my arms and elbows. He blinked a couple times before inviting me to come in as I knew he would.

The punching bag felt familiar even though I've never actually seen it. I spotted the couch too and the tv. His apartment had the same blueprint than mine and yet it looked really different. I could tell that some of the furniture was too expansive to be there. And the whole place smelled like the cleaning products I couldn't afford to buy. In an instant I remembered all the occasions I would hear the broom and the vacuum working at his apartment. Anders' voice took me out of my own thoughts.

"I'm sorry you heard me." He came from the kitchen holding a glass of water.

"You don't need to!" I reassured him.

"No." Anders shook his head, "I shouldn't cry like that. I'm a grown up. I can take it."

I actually chuckled upon hearing that. He looked offended so I quickly grabbed the glass of water to assert some kindness.

"I'm sorry! It's just that... that's not what being an adult is about. At all! Besides my relationship with my dad is also not good so I can definitely relate."

"You heard the call too?"

"Come on Anders we've been living next to each other for over a year man!" I almost spit the water when I realized what the silence he made actually meant. He never told me his name. I chuckled again, embarrassed this time, "Sorry, I heard your friends calling you that."

He quickly looked at the wall as if trying to see through into my apartment.

"My hearing is above average good, I guess." I smiled akwardly, "And the walls are super thin."

"Actually now that I think about it." Anders looked at me again, from head to toe like he did at the door, "I've heard you to."

Hearing that made my spine freeze. I replayed all my days in my mind. I work from home so I basically stay indoors 24/7. I often listen to music but never loud enough to disturb anyone. I also listen to podcasts while cooking and always end up crying with Netflix shows not targeted to my age. What has he heard??

"what have you heard?"

Anders actually smiled. He walked to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of expensive wine and two cups.

"Are you in a hurry?"

***

We spend some good forty minutes talking on his couch while drinking wine and eating sunflower seeds. Anders said it was about the gains. 'Sunflower seeds are for the winners!', on his words.

We exchanged cooking recipes and cleaning techniques. We also talked about how hard (yet good) it was to live alone. I talked about my work at the computer and he talked about his hockey games and how he would sometimes travel to play far away leagues, which explained his occasional absence.

As the alcohol made it's magic we started to talk about more silly stuff. He said that I had a really bad taste in music, which I agreed. I said that once I found out his name and heard his friends using all this sport vocabulary I googled 'Anders + hockey' to figure out who he was. And I was actually quite surprised he was considerably famous even though I had no idea who he was. I almost considered selling his address to crazy fans. That made him laugh

"How are they like?" I poured more wine into both our glasses, "The fans I mean."

"Eh, you know." Anders shrugged, "Some of them want to drink a beer with you. Some of them want to kiss you. And some of them want to kidnap you."

"And have you ever been kidnapped?"

"Only on purpose." Anders winked at me. That made me smile. His beard was not really my thing but looking closely he was indeed quite attractive. Or maybe that was just the wine talking.

"I mean, I'm at your house and you're drunk. I could very much kidnap you right now couldn't I?" without putting any thoughts into it I raised my feet to the couch because they're so so damn cold. Anders grabbed my feet softly and placed them on his lap.

"You're also drunk. Do you think you can keep me here?"

"At this point we both know that you can only get kidnapped if you're willing to. So the question is: do you want me to kidnap you, Anders Cain?"

He looked at me with those bright blue eyes of his while gently caressing my feet. Slowly and without taking his eyes off me Anders brought my left foot closer to him and kissed it. No one has ever done that to me. And very few people have looked at at me the way he was looking.

"How much do you think you father would pay for your rescue?"

"Honestly? Not much..." Anders placed my foot on his lap again and for a few seconds he looked away from me. I bit my lip in frustration.

"Let's put it this way then." I placed my almost empty glass of wine on the expansive mat, "What about you being daddy tonight?"

The look on Anders' face made it clear that no one has ever offered him such position before. And I was so glad I could be the first to help him explore such profanity. His hands moved from my feet to my ankles. I got closer to him and grabbed his glass of wine to placed it on the mat as well. From this distance I could see a little bit of gray in his eyes. We kissed.

At first softly. His beard felt weird against my cheeks and chin, but not for long. I could taste the wine on his lips and mouth. Once his tongue came into play I felt his hands on my thighs. That made me kiss him even harder. It's been more than a month since the last time I had sex, I definitely missed the touch. I tried to jump on his lap but he grunted in pain and quickly asked me to back away.

"What is it?" I asked worried.

"Hockey stuff." He briefly explained before taking off his shirt to reveal the wounds around his ribs and shoulders. In the heat of the moment that only made me desire Anders even more. I took my shirt off and got up to get closer to him. I gently placed my hands on his waist before kissing him again.

"Don't worry." I whispered, "I'll be gentle daddy."

That made Anders hyperventilate briefly, which of course only made me proud of myself. I kissed his big hands. Then I kissed his forearms and biceps. His shoulders were broad and strong and yet lean. I kissed his shoulders and back being careful not to put too much pressure of the wounds. He flinched slightly but didn't ask me to stop.

Facing Anders again I grabbed the sweatpants and lowered them slowly. His eyes followed mine like that scene from karate kid. That made me feel powerful but I promised 'daddy' I would be kind. I would bring him to orgasm. I would bring him to forget his problems for a while. I would bring him to relax.

I grabbed Anders' dick in order to pull him into his room, but he didn't move. Instead he pulled me closer and kissed my neck. His bite made electricity run through my whole body. When we parted he looked at me with such predator eyes. Blue as ice. Sharp as a knife. Terrifying is not the best word to describe it but it's the first one that comes to mind.

Suddenly I remembered all those videos I digged up online of Anders beating the shit out of other hockey players. Did he look at them the same way he was looking at me? Did they like it as much as I am? Unfiltered duo to the alcohol I whispered.

"You're crazy."

"You like it." He whispered back.

It felt like we should smile but we didn't. Our eyes kept locked in a horny stare. I grabbed his dick again and pulled him into his room without taking my eyes off his. Same blueprint. The thing that catch my attention was the daisy flowers on Anders' bedstand. They seemed out of place for some reason. Or maybe I just didn't know him well enough.

I made him sit on the bed, back on the headboard. He made himself comfortable and I got naked in front of him. He looked at me from head to toe for the third time that night. I licked my own lips in anticipation. His dick was rock hard. Inviting me.

I crawled towards Anders. My hands caressing his ankles and thighs. I kissed him in the mouth again before kissing his neck. He grunted with my weight on him, but only slightly. I then proceeded to kiss his chest and nipples. With my mouth I followed his blonde treasure trail. I kissed his balls testing their sensitivity. Then licked his dick from base to head. When I finally put his cock inside my mouth Anders shivered a little.

His dick was not too long or thick. It was avarage but it only made it easier for me to do my thing. I absolutely took my time. I payed attention to every moan and slight movement Anders made. Slowly deciphering what he liked best.

When I felt like he was approaching climax I went faster for the final prize. He started to moan louder like I've heard from my apartment. I recognized it. I knew it was time. I swallowed his dick into my throat until I felt my nose touching his pubes. He cummed hard into my mouth. I closed my eyes and moaned loudly as I swallowed spunk after spunk of his delicious cum.

After his orgasm I kept sucking his dick until it became soft again. Anders kept moving his finger toes around and grunting in pleasure as I finished my job. When I eventually got satisfied I moved to get off the bed but Anders pulled me back to a kiss. His eyes were still as blue as ice but they looked at me with much more kindness now. We both took a deep breath before kissing again.

***

I didn't like to sleep in the house of the people I had sex with but my apartment was literally a few steps away so I didn't mind. Anders and I took a shower together. We were more sober at the time and talked drowned in the kind of intimacy only an orgasm can grant you, even if temporarily. I slept on his bed with him. We woke up a few times because I would accidentally put my weight on one his hockey wounds.

In the next morning he left to train and I left to my apartment for working. He spend a couple days away and I caught myself checking the hockey leagues every now and then. We had sex some other times after that. I don't know if we consider ourselves friends but one thing is for sure: at this point we know each other better than anyone.

#Anders Cain #FoxtrotFanfic #Wyatt Russell #smut #goon last of the enforcers 2017 #as you know english is not my first language #I'm literally so proud of this writing #also this was the hornier i got so far #hope y'all enjoy :D

10 notes · View notes

toplinetommy · 4 years

Text

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

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

Words: 8.9k

Warnings: tyson still aint 21 and is drinking in some parts

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

September/October 2018 - Denver, CO

“Does Tyson know you have a boyfriend?” Caitlyn asks as you near EJ’s house. She sat next to you in the passenger seat, while her boyfriend, Josh, was in the back.

“Considering Aiden’s not my boyfriend, no.” You respond, turning right onto EJ’s street. Caitlyn shakes her head at you and you know exactly what she’s thinking since this is about the fourth time she’s brought it up.

“I just don’t get why you can’t tell Tyson you’re seeing someone, considering he’s your best friend and all.” She shrugs looking out the window at the big craftsman-style houses in the neighborhood.

“Because it’s still casual and it hasn’t really gotten brought up yet. I really don’t see the big deal.”

“The big deal is that the last time you and Tyson saw each other was at Gabe’s wedding when you guys had a moment,” She moves her hands in front of her, putting an emphasis on ‘moment’. You pull up to EJ’s house as she finishes talking, parking your car on the curb.

“It was a wedding, they’re full of ‘moments’,” You put finger quotations around moment. After the wedding, you had gone back to Denver while Tyson went back home to Alberta where you guys resumed your friendship like nothing had happened. The summer was spent with a numerous amount of FaceTime’s and sending memes to one another. Sure, the thought of kissing Tyson would occasionally pop into your head over the summer months when you especially missed him, but that’s exactly what you blamed it on. The fact that he had never brought up the almost-kiss gave you even more reason to do the same.

“I just think there’s a deeper reason why you haven’t told him that you won’t admit to yourself.” Caitlyn shakes her head as the three of you walk up the long driveway. The rest of the walk is silent until you walk in through the front door and are greeted with loud cheers at your entrance.

“Y/n Y/l/n!” Gabe cheers, lifting his arms above his head, a beer in each of his hands. You laugh at the sight and go to yell his name back to him before you notice Tyson whipping his body around at the sound of your name combined with your laugh. Tyson all about shoves his blonde captain out of the way to get to where you’re standing across the living room.

Both of his hands are also clasped around cans of beer, some of it spilling as he sets them down harshly on the nearest surface on his way to you. You shriek as he wraps his arms tightly around your torso, picking you up a few inches of the ground. He sets you down but the two of you stay joined before you’re the one to pull back from him.

“How’s my superstar been?” You ask, looking him over as you rest your hands on his biceps. He’s wearing a pair of chino shorts, his thighs filling them out from a productive summer and his biceps have a golden sheen from spending so much of his summer outside.

“Better now that I’m back in Denver,” He smiles, eyes shining as he also looks over your body. You’re sporting a pair of loosely-fit mom jeans with a scarf you wrapped around yourself as a DIY top,. Tyson looks over to Caitlyn and Jack who are standing behind you as they watch your reunion, saying hi to them.

“So there’s stuff kind of going on everywhere. A lot of people are on the deck and in the backyard playing games or in here enjoying the AC.” He starts, pointing around to the large group of people all around your small group. “You can put your alcohol in the fridge too, there’s one in the kitchen, obviously, but if it’s full you guys can use the one in the garage.”

The three of you nod at his suggestions before he’s dragging you outside to meet the new guys that were signed over the summer. Once the two of you make your rounds you settle into lawn chairs that are placed by the firepit in the back.

“How was your summer?” Tyson asks before bringing his beer to his lips.

“Pretty good, I actually had to work, unlike some other people I know.” You chirp, glaring at the brunette next to you in a joking manner. He rolls his eyes at your comment before you continue. “Besides, we talked like four times a week, you know how my summer was. Oh! Jack officially moved in about a month ago.”

“Oh really? I’ll have to get his number so he can hang out with the boys. Ya know, so he’s not stuck with you girls all the time.”

“Hey!” You exclaim with a spirited tone. “We’re a great time and you know it.”

“Yeah, with all your pop culture gossip and medical drama tv shows. You guys are a hoot.” He shrugs, Candian accent popping out as he speaks. He downs the remainder of the light-brown liquid in his can, before setting it down on the grass next to him.

You laugh in shock and give a shove to Tyson’s shoulder once he’s sitting straight up again, “Shut the fuck up, you know you missed it.” He coughs lightly, pretending to have choked on his beer due to your shove.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t miss it,” Tyson brings a hand to his chest in fake distaste. His gaze turns soft as his eyes focus more on your face, his eyes slightly squinting due to the harsh sun that was beginning to set past the horizon. The freckles that had appeared on your cheeks and shoulders due to the time spent in the sun, your hair was a little lighter from getting highlights recently and it was longer than he remembered it being, and most importantly the genuine smile he missed seeing in person. “It’s always nice being able to go home and see everyone, especially being able to be on the lake. It was harder than last summer, I missed a lot of people.”

“Yeah, but you get to see people you grew up with and live a little calmer.” You respond. Tyson had always told you his favorite part about his Candian summers was the calm pace of the season, a much needed contrast to the grinding he’d put in for a majority of the year when the NHL season would come around.

“Yeah, I get to see Dante, who by the way you need to meet whenever he comes to town, and some buddies on other teams,” Tyson points out. “I don’t know, I felt like part of me stayed here in Denver. I don’t know if it was just because I missed everyone or just because it’s so different from home or what.”

You nod your head in understanding, knowing how difficult it was to leave a place you called home for more than just a week or two. “I think it’s just because you’ve established a life here. No matter how exciting or happy you are to be back home, part of you will miss where you spend most of your time.”

“And the people I spend all my time with.” He adds, gesturing to the people occupying the backyard. You glance around, noticing Nate, Tyson, and Big Z playing Spike Ball, while some of the guys and their wives sitting around the table that was on the deck. As your eyes land on where Caitlyn and Jack are standing with JT and Sydney, Tyson’s eyes land on you, thinking specifically about how good it was to be back not only in Denver but to be back where you were. Even if it was only his second season with the Avalanche, he truly felt like he had found his place in Denver, both with his hockey career and with the friends he had made.

“Josty! Y/n! We’re starting flip cup, let’s go!” JT shouts at the two of you, pulling Tyson away from his thoughts. The two of you stand up and saunter over to the large table that’s set up on the grass where a large group had formed. Before you can say you’ll be right back and that you need to get a refill, Tyson is placing his hand on the small of your back letting you know he’ll grab drinks for the both of you.

“You and Tyson look like you’ve been awfully close since we got here,” Caitlyn acknowledges, nudging your shoulder with hers.

“We’re just catching up, we haven’t seen each other since July,” You answer shortly. A few more people join around the table as the two of you speak, all grabbing solo cups and filling them up for the game. Caitlyn gives you a knowing look and before she can say what’s on her mind you stop her, “And no, I didn’t tell him about Aiden. Stop bringing it up.”

She brings her hands up in defeat, knowing that if she continues to talk about it you’ll just get angrier with him badgering. Tyson reappears next to you, Bud Light in one hand for him and an Angry Orchard in the other for you.

“I haven’t played this since that time at the hockey house senior year,” You admit to Tyson, who’s pouring his drink into his cup as you crack open yours.

“Hopefully you’re as good as I remember.” Tyson chirps, thinking back to that night the two of you really met. With where your friendship stood now, it seemed like that day in North Dakota was ages ago.

“From what I remember - which isn’t a lot because I was blasted that night, you were terrible.” You laugh, a few of the guys on the other side of the table also laughing, hearing the chirp.

A numerous amount of rounds pass, Tyson consistently being the reason you lose, while you were the reason your team would win. The sun’s been long gone for a while, the source of light being the decorative string lights along the deck and yard. The slight chill in the air causes most people to relocate to the kitchen and living room of the house, a few retreating to the basement to play poker or video games.

You spend most of your night near Tyson in some way, whether it be directly next to him or in the same group until he disappears to join some of the guys downstairs. The late-night starts turning into the early morning and Caitlyn and Jack are letting you know that they’re getting ready to go home.

“I’ll text you when Jack and I get home,” Caitlyn assures you as she hugs you goodbye before heading for the exit of the house. You make your way to the kitchen to switch out your now empty cider for a glass of water, choosing to f. Once you fill your glass up, you lean against the counter next to the sink and pull out your phone to see the Instagram story Caitlyn had tagged you in. It’s a Boomerang of you and her clinking your drinks in a ‘cheers’ from earlier in the night. You share it to your story as well before bringing your glass to your lips.

“Getting tired already, eh?” Tyson reappears, choosing to lean against the counter next to you. His one hand is gripping his beer as he was one of the few people still drinking at this time of night. The still moment as you laugh with a scoff before responding oddly feels like you’ve been in this exact moment once before.

“Caitlyn just ditched me to go have sex with her boyfriend,” you answer. Your phone vibrates in your hand and you see that Aiden’s texted you back. The vibration pulls you from what felt like another world of thinking, and you unlock it pulling up your messages to respond to Aiden.

Tyson couldn’t help but notice the increase in your attention towards your phone throughout the night as you type out a response. Granted, with the time that it was, more people were seen on their phones than in groups talking or playing games. Most attendees were starting to quiet down and a few were making plans to head out. You were typing away at your phone with a small smile when Tyson interrupted you with a slight shoulder shove.

“What’s got all your attention?” Tyson asks curiously. You quickly place your phone face down on the counter beside you giving Tyson your full attention.

“No one.”

“Oh, so you got a someone then, eh?” He asks, quirking one of his eyebrows up.

“It’s just some guy.” You shrug. Some part of you still didn’t know how to bring up Aiden’s presence in your life to Tyson. Even if Tyson was just a friend to you, it still felt weird for a reason you couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

His palms tighten against where they’re resting against the countertop the two of you are leaning back on, the joyful smile that was once on his lips disappears into one you can’t seem to read. Whether that be the alcohol you’ve consumed or just the simple fact that you’d never really seen Tyson look at you the way he was right now.

“Like a guy you’re seeing or?”

“Like a friend I’m seeing later.”

Tyson’s unreadable face turns into one of confusion as he mutters an ‘oh’ and looks back towards the expanse of the open kitchen in front of you two. He may not have seen you at all in the past three months from being back home, but that didn’t mean that you guys weren’t calling each other at least three times a week to catch up, so the mention of a ‘friend’ confused him. With that being said, he definitely thought that the two of you were open enough to let the other know if they were dating someone.

“His name’s Aiden, I kind of like him but we kinda just hang out at night if you know what I mean,” You spill.

Tyson swallows as he internally debates on whether or not he wants to directly ask you why you hadn’t mentioned this to him before or if he just wanted to skip over that whole part. He goes with the latter, “How long have you guys been talking?”

“Not that long, like a month?” You shrug your shoulders. Tyson doesn’t respond, partially from his slow reflexes that the alcohol in his system has caused and from the slight discomfort he felt about the news. “Oh, he’s here,” You announce as you read the text that pops up on your screen. You set your barely touched glass of water into the sink and start towards the front door.

Tyson pushes off the counter, following close behind you, “I’ll walk you out.” And if he had wanted to do that just to get a good look at the schmuck that was picking you up, you didn’t have to know. While we’re at it, he might have also suggested it in hopes that this Aiden guy would be intimidated by a different guy walking her out. He may not have been that tall, but Tyson knew damn well he was still leaner than most guys, and he had every intention of using that to his advantage

You nod your head at Tyson, walking around the house shouting to the remaining guys that you were heading out. As you get to the entryway and find your coat, Gabe saunters over to properly say goodbye.

“You guys heading out together?” Gabe asks, glancing between the two of you, a slight smirk forming on his lips. Tyson opens his mouth, no sound coming out at the suggestive question his captain makes.

“No, just me. My ride’s here.” You answer shortly, pulling your white sneakers on completely.

“I’m just walking her out,” Tyson says, almost as soon as you’re done speaking. Gabe nods his head in an awkward manner before turning on his heels to go back to what you assume is the group he was previously in.

You move towards the door and Tyson beats you there, even in his drunken state, and opens it for you. The two of you are greeted with none other than Aiden standing on the front porch. Tyson visibly puffs his chest out and pushes his shoulders back once he sees the man in front of him is in fact, much taller than him and very much the opposite of what he thought this guy would look like.

Aiden looks between the two of you, your body staggered right in front of Tyson’s as you say a quick ‘hey’. You turn around, going to give Tyson a side hug but he has other plans and embraces you fully. You hug him back, looking up at him getting ready to say bye when Aiden’s voice breaks your departure.

“I didn’t know you were partying at some mansion,” Aiden says, taking his hands out of his sweat pockets to point up towards the house you were gathered in front of. Tyson loudly scoffs at the statement and rolls his eyes. He was still in the early part of his career and he still hadn’t really gotten used to the whole other people making snide remarks about his lifestyle and career.

You pull away from Tyson, taking a step towards Aiden, “I told you I was hanging out with Tyson.”

“Not Tyson Jost and an entire NHL roster.”

Tyson holds back his scoff this time. He could already tell that if this guy was gonna be around much longer he was going to have to hold back making snide remarks. If he was already this intimidated and this annoyed with the group of guys you regularly hung around, he had a lot coming for him if he was planning to stick around.

You squeeze his bicep with one of your hands, choosing to not respond to Aiden’s comment. “I’ll see you on opening night?”

“Yeah, you will,” Tyson answers, smile starting to come back to his face. You nod your head and turn around to head towards Aiden’s still running car at the end of the driveway.

The energy at the Pepsi Center was electric, to say the least, and the city of Denver was excited to have hockey back. Especially after a disappointing first-round exit in the playoffs in late April. You had kept up slightly with the off-season news - mainly due to Caitlyn’s interest - and knew that they would have high expectations with the new additions to the team.

Caitlyn was adorning her MacKinnon jersey that she had owned ever since he was drafted while you sported the #17 on your back per Tyson’s request. He always joked about how you were one of the few people that even had his jersey due to his younger age to which you always scoffed and called him a superstar despite only being in his second year.

Your small group consists of Aiden, Caitlyn, her boyfriend, Jack, and yourself. The four of you had all decided to get tickets yourself and make it a sort of ‘double-date’ as Caitlyn described it. Jack wasn’t a huge hockey fan, but he was a huge fan of Caitlyn so he had borrowed one of Tyson’s hoodies to wear since they were a similar size. Aiden was what he liked to call ‘an average hockey fan’ since he knew a lot about his hometown Avalanche team and the big names of the NHL, while not knowing much about anything else.

The four of you stopped to get drinks before heading to your seats in the mid-level section. With it being the opening night of the new season, tickets were more expensive than usual so you had all opted for cheaper seats to save money. Besides, the four of you were planning on joining the team’s festivities after the game when they headed downtown to their usual post-game bars.

The game flew by, the Avs coming out with a 4-1 win. The dominant win only contributed to the already high level of buzz in the arena and the surrounding areas. The four of you took your time exiting the arena and heading downtown, knowing that the guys you were meeting up with wouldn’t be out for at least another hour. You guys had carpooled to the game so the four of you all jump into Caitlyn’s SUV before she drives down to the parking lot she usually parked in on nights out.

By the time some of the guys make it to the bar, the four of you alongside some other WAG’s reserved a section in the back corner for the large group. Cheers erupt as they all enter, a way of saying congrats to a great win to start off the season. Everyone greets one another before everyone starts to disperse slightly to get their own alcoholic beverages.

“You remember Aiden,” You shout to Tyson over the loud bass, resting your palm on Aiden’s chest.

“What’s up, man?” Tyson greets. He goes to shake Aiden’s hand which Aiden happily does, however, Aiden keeps his other arm around your shoulders making sure you stay tucked into his side.

“You guys had a great game,” You complement with a smile towards Tyson. His eyes are bright, and his cheeks are full as he opens his mouth getting ready to respond when Aiden makes a comment you wish he hadn’t.

“Sucks you had that penalty, though.”

Tyson grinds his jaw as opposed to making a rude comment. If Tyson really wanted to be petty - and he really did; then he would’ve made some comment about how he made more in one 60 minute game than he probably did in a month. You squeeze his hand that’s moved to your hip in annoyance, glancing up at him with a look that screamed ‘why the fuck did you say that’.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tyson announces, turning around on his heel and making his way towards the bar. You watch his body movement as he walks away, noting how nicely his grey slacks and jacket combo fit him.

“Why did you say that?” You turn towards Aiden, hissing up at him. “You don’t think that people already told him about his mistake? Ya know, like people that actually know what they’re talking about?”

“I know what I’m talking about,” He says easily, taking a sip from his IPA.

“Just leave it to the people that actually breathe hockey for a living. It was a rude comment to make, especially to my friend.” You say, continuing to look up to his face sternly. His face falters a little bit to an apologetic look before he says he’s sorry. Tyson reappears a few minutes later, joining you, Aiden, Caitlyn, Jack, JT, and Sammy. Instead of him coming back up to you directly, he steps to the side and jumps into conversation with Jack.

Caitlyn moves closer to you and Aiden, “So Tyson’s met Aiden then.” You nod your head at her in answer, sipping on your margarita as she gives a knowing look. The subject of their meeting just as quickly as it gets brought up and everyone starts talking about the game and how excited they are for the season. Anyone could tell - and especially the people that were around the team like you guys were; that the chemistry of this roster was something special.

JT comes up to a little while later, ditching Tyson and some of the other guys at the table, “So this is the new guy, huh?” He asks, his hand holding his beer pointing at the guy you had been attached to all evening.

“Yep,” You smile excitedly. “This is Aiden, Aiden this is JT. He lives with Tyson and Kerfy, who you haven’t met yet. Speaking of Kerfy, is he around?”

“Nah, he went back to the house after to see his girl,” JT answers smoothly. “When are you guys coming over? I always see your car over at Caitlyn’s but you haven’t stopped by at ours since we’ve been back. Come to think of it, I’ve barely seen you since Landy’s wedding even though I’ve been in and out of town since then.” JT takes a large swig of his beer, seemingly finishing it as he rests it on the nearest surface.

Before you can muster up an excuse about being busy with work, Aiden’s face flashes in confusion. “You live close to each other or something?”

“They all live across the street from Caitlyn, I thought I told you that when I told you how I knew everyone,” You knit your eyebrows in confusion turning back towards Aiden. Aiden’s confused face relaxes a little, thinking back to what was probably the third time you guys hung out when you had finally decided to tell him you knew a large portion of the Colorado Avalanche.

You notice a movement at the table most of your friends are sitting at, and watch Tyson as he stands up from the booth he’s at as he makes his way over to three of you, jumping into the conversation. His cheeks have a slight pinkness to them and the top few buttons of his shirt have been unbuttoned.

“So, Aiden, what do you do?”

“I manage a construction company out in Aurora,” He answers, his voice booming over the surrounding sounds. “I’m thinking of getting my masters in business administration, but I haven’t made a decision yet.”

Tyson nods his head, being somewhat intimidated by Aiden’s expanse of education, something he clearly lacked. JT asks him where he got his undergrad, Aiden answering him, and saying he went to Michigan State.

“Oh, no way! I went to Michigan.” JT smiles, which you mirror. You’re happy that someone seems to finally be taking an interest in Aiden and your relationship with him. The two of them banter about which school is truly better, and you hold back your opinion not knowing much about either school.

Both you and Tyson stand quietly, listening to JT and Aiden talk about the MSU/Michigan rivalry. JT asked about what it was like at MSU and Aiden had asked him about what it felt like to be a D1 athlete at arguably one of the biggest schools in the country. As Tyson listens he can’t help but notice Aiden’s empty hand and how it’s placed on your stomach, holding you back close to him. You notice Tyson’s eyes turn a little darker and his hand tighten around his glass as the two of them speak, especially when he sees Aidens hand flex where it’s placed against your stomach and you get a sudden wave of claustrophobia and shove his hand off of you and instead choose to interlock your fingers with his. Aiden shoots you a small look of confusion before you interrupt.

“I’m gonna go get another drink, I’ll be right back.” You announce, completely slipping our of Aiden’s grasp. The sudden feeling of heaviness surrounds you as you head towards the back bar, fully intending to order just water and calm your now ragged breathing. As you approach the bar counter and set your elbows on the slightly sticky surface, you turn your head to the group of guys you just left. You look at Tyson, the shortest in the group start taking a few steps in your general direction before Aiden places his hand on Tyson’s shoulder, harshly moving past him.

“You okay?” Aiden asks as he approaches you.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you let out. “I just got really claustrophobic out of nowhere, it’s probably the alcohol.” It’s not completely a lie, you did start feeling overcrowded, but it most definitely was not the alcohol’s fault. If you really thought about it, you were probably the most sober person in your immediate group.

“If you want to leave we can head out, I don’t mind,” Aiden suggests, placing his hands steadily on your hips. You lean up to him to give him a quick kiss on the lips before nodding your head no.

“We can have another drink, then leave. Sound good?” You muse. Aiden nods his head in response, ordering both of you new drinks before you head back over to your group. You notice an empty spot in the booth next to Tyson and decide to snag it, pulling Aiden by his hand to stand next to you.

“What are you drinking?” You ask leaning into Tyson’s ear.

“A rum and coke,” He answers turning to look at you, not missing where your hand is joined with Aiden’s. “So you guys, like, official now or something?”

You look up at Aiden before answering, who seems to be lost in doing something on his phone, “Yeah.”

Tyson nods his head in response, taking a large gulp of his drink. He stays quiet as he takes in the piece of new information, processing it all. The moments from Gabe’s wedding when he almost kissed you flashes through his mind before he takes his free hand and rubs it along his face. He moves his hand to his lap, preoccupying the other with the thin, black straw in his glass.

“He’s really great and I think you guys will get along,” You start in an attempt to fill in the silence. “We can all try to hang out sometime soon so you guys can get properly introduced.”

“That sounds great, YY/n,” Tyson says, eyes locked on the glass in front of him. There’s little emotion in his tone as he speaks and you start to wonder if you did something wrong. Before you can ask if everything’s okay with him, he moves abruptly,

“I’m gonna go get a refill.”

You stand up, moving out of the way so he can stand up and head to the bar and you look at his glass on the table that’s close to full in confusion. You sit back down on the cushion of the booth, pulling Aiden next to you as you watch Tyson move through the crowd. He goes in the exact opposite direction of the bar which has you knitting your eyebrows, and walks up to a girl you don’t think he knows by the looks of him introducing himself. You watch their encounter from afar, head resting on Aiden’s shoulder.

As the pair continues to talks, you look around for your immediate friend group, finding Caitlyn and Jack at the end of the bar closest to you and Aiden,

“I actually think I’m ready to go now,” You move your head from off of Aiden’s shoulder, placing your hand there instead. “You order the Uber and I’m gonna go say bye to Caitlyn and Jack.”

“Aiden and I are gonna head out,” You shout over the music. “Let me know when you guys leave and get home!”

“Of course, everything okay though? I feel like I haven’t seen you all night and when I did you seemed distant.”

“Yeah, just some anxiety,” You excuse, your gaze still heavily following on Tyson and his new friend. Caitlyn notices your distant stare and follows it, letting out a large sigh at the sight. If anyone in the bar was as close to you as she was, they too would notice the invisible lasers from your eyes to the second-year hockey player across the room.

You guys exchange silent looks before you wrap your arms around her, hugging her goodbye. “Lunch tomorrow, yeah?” You say pulling away.

“Sure, let me know when you guys get back. Love you.”

December 2018/January 2019 - Denver, CO

Walking up the snow-covered sidewalk to the Rookie House, trying to keep your balance as you hold two hot cups of coffee in both hands. Once you reach the front door, you grasp both cups in one hand, knocking on the door with the other. Tyson swings it open a movement later, a large smile on his face and making grabby hands at the coffee.

“Here’s your coffee,” you say, handing over both cups to him as you move to take off your shoes. You sigh out, “Wow, I feel like I haven’t been over here in ages.” Tyson had been out of town briefly for a game in St. Louis then had a string of back-to-backs all weekend so the two of you hadn’t seen each other much recently.

“Because we only see each other when we’re out or in group settings it seems,” Tyson responds as the two of you make way to his kitchen. If it weren’t for his playfully light tone combined with the small smile on his face as he looked at you, you’d think he was making some sort of accusation. “Thanks for the coffee, how much was it? I’ll Venmo you.”

“You don’t need to Venmo me, Tyson. It isn’t a big deal.” You assure, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

He grabs his phone from where it’s resting on the white counter in front of him, starting to tap away at the phone screen while he responds, “And it’s not a big deal for me to Venmo you.”

You roll your eyes at his playful response, “I’ll just send it back to you.”

“And I’ll just send it right back, two can play this game,” Tyson smirked. He sets his phone down, not bothering to Venmo you, knowing that you will in fact turn it into a war where the two of you are sending the same $4 back to one another until one of you gives up.

“What have you been up to? I feel like we haven’t had a best friend heart-to-heart in a while.” You start. You tuck one leg underneath you on the counter checking your Apple Watch as it vibrates. Ignoring the notification from Aiden you turn and smile towards Tyson’s standing figure across the island from you.

“Good, good. The team’s been rolling lately and the guys can definitely feel it in the air. I’ve honestly been having so much fun playing with them day in and day out.” He rambles, a smile on his face as he talks about arguably his favorite thing in the world. “Enough about hockey though, I already talk about 99% of the time. I’ve been learning some new stuff on my ukelele, I’m officially up to knowing four songs now.” He laughs lightly and smiles a little wider. He’s leaning over the island making the two of you seem closer than what you actually are.

“That’s awesome!” You exclaim, wrapping your hands around your coffee. “Do you bring it on the road with you? I can’t remember if you ever told me.”

“I did on our east coach trip last week, actually. I didn’t play it as much as I thought I would so I’m not sure if I’ll do it again,” He shrugs.

“Yeah, and it’s probably not the most ideal item to travel with,” You reason, shrugging at the idea of traveling with a musical instrument.

“What’s been up with you?”

“The usual, working a lot, spending a lot of time with Aiden, Caitlyn and Jack too.” You start, a smile making its way on to your face thinking of all the quality time you’ve spent with those closest to you recently. The smile falters as you look towards Tyson, who seems to have a distant look on his face when you mention those names. “I’ve been really happy lately, but I feel like we don’t talk that much anymore, which needs to change.”

“How about this: once a week we’ll have that conversation. We’ll just talk about anything and everything that’s on our minds and take time to just be heard.”

“Mark me down in your calendar then, once a week, Tys,” You agree, looking over at him. He could see the happiness on your face, even though your previous smile had faltered. He could see the gleam in your eyes that you always seemed to get when you talked about the ones you cared most for. He smiles too at the thought that you guys would officially get back to what was considered as part of your normal routine. He considered asking further about yours and Aiden’s relationship before he finally pulled the trigger, knowing it was polite to do even though he didn’t necessarily want to know the details of your guys’ relationship.

“How have you and Aiden been?” Tyson straightens, putting more physical distance between the two of you as he asks about your relationship.

“I met his family over the weekend.” You start. Your eyes are locked on the movement of your fingers playing with the sleeve on your coffee out of nervousness as you bring up the news to Tyson. You know Tyson wasn’t the biggest fan of him, even though it may not have been obvious to everyone since he was still always so friendly around him.

“Really?” Tyson inquires.

“Yeah, we went to his parent’s house for dinner on Sunday, it was nice.” You answer thinking back to what you would consider the next step in your relationship with Aiden. “I think they liked me.”

“That’s good, eh?”

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I don’t know. It just kinda felt weird, like I felt welcome and all, but I just felt like the vibes were off on my end. Someone made a comment that kind of stuck with me.”

Tyson raises his eyebrows in question, urging you to go on.

“I was coming back from the bathroom and I heard his mom and him talking about how if he thought I was his soulmate.”

“Oh? What did he say?” Tyson asked, tensing up in his seat. He too started fidgeting with the coffee in front of him as you continued to speak.

“He said he thinks I could be the one yeah.” You let out, a large sigh following. Silence surrounds both of you as Tyson takes in what he just heard come out of your mouth. You and Aiden had only been official for what some people would consider a short three months, so it was a lot for you to even take in when he had said that to you.

“C’mon y/n, you can’t seriously think that Aiden of all people is your soulmate,” Tyson suggested with a scoff as he moved to sit on the barstool next to yours, foregoing the cup of coffee on the other side of the island.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You bite, snapping your head to look at Tyson as he folds one of his legs underneath him. The casualness of his tone and his body posture only makes you angrier with his accusation.

“He’s clearly not your soulmate. Your soulmate isn’t supposed to constantly ask you to change or get annoyed by your quirks. He doesn’t like any of the guys on the team who are some of your closest friends! He’s insecure and is always bringing your energy down when he’s around.” He exclaims, his voice rasing as he continued to ramble.

“No, fuck this, I came over here to hang out with you because I haven’t seen you in a while, not for you to shit-talk my boyfriend. You’re just too immature to understand all of this and how important it is to me.” You say, shaking your head looking at him in disbelief at where all of this is coming from.

Not even a sliver of silence is allowed between the two of you before he speaks, “I’m just trying to get you to see what literally everyone around you sees! No one thinks he’s good for you.” His voice only continuing to rise as the words feel like they’re cutting you open with how harsh he’s speaking. You’re pretty sure this is the first time you’ve heard him use the tone he’s using to not only you but to anyone.

“Oh, good, well I’m glad everyone is going around my back to talk about my personal relationship and how they feel about it. That’s great, Tyson.” You throw your hands up in the air, before rubbing your face with them.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean it like-“

“If you didn’t mean it you wouldn’t have said it. Simple as that.” You affirm, lowering your voice as you stand up from the island. You grab your phone and your keys, heading for the door while Tyson is still in shock at your abrupt movements. He snaps out of it as he hears the rustling of the nylon on your winter coat as you pull your arms through it. You hear the harsh slide of the barstool across the hardwood floor as he takes long strides over to you.

“Do you love him?” Tyson asks in a soft but still firm manner, his facial features relaxing a little. It’s a simple yet loaded question that really makes you think as you take a step out of the front door. With one foot on the welcome mat and one hand on the outside doorknob, you glance at Tyson once more. Instead of answering him, or even saying anything that closely resembles a goodbye, you turn around and start walking down the sidewalk to your car.

As you step into your car, you glance back up at the front door, noticing Tyson still standing in the open doorway. Both of you are frozen for a moment and you see him scratch relentlessly at his arm before you take your eyes away from him and fully enter your car. You could hear the faint sound of the front door slamming before you turned your keys in the ignition and started heading home.

Do you even love him?

The question lingered heavily in your head ever since Tyson asked you that when you guys last talked. The question felt even heavier as you sat on your couch next to Aiden, the two of you eating Chinese take-out and catching up on The 100. You had felt content with him this whole relationship, and as you thought deeper you realized that was all you felt. Content with your relationship and the attention that came along with it.

He noticed the blank stare that was on your face as you continued to push the mixture of rice, broccoli, and chicken around on your plate. Aiden moved to place his hand on your sweatpant covered knee to grab your attention to which caused you to snap your head in his direction.

“You good?” Aiden swallows. “You’ve had this blank stare for at least, like, five minutes.”

You bring your fork up to your, eating a mouthful of rice before you set your full plate on the coffee table with a ‘clink’. You maneuver your body into the corner of your couch so you’re body is facing his.

“Do you love me? Or like, are you falling in love with me?” You ask, deciding to be straight forward to avoid as little confusion as possible.

“Why are you even asking me that?” He asks in an accusatory tone. He mirrors your previous actions and sets his plate on the table next to yours. “I just took you to meet my family last week, why wouldn’t I think this is where this relationship is going.”

“I just feel like that’s not where I see it going.” You admit. Aiden stares at you, dumbfounded by your sudden admission feeling. His mouth is slightly agape, not knowing exactly what to say before his upper torso stiffens. “I was just thinking and I just feel stagnant with where our relationship is and I’m sorry to say it but I don’t think I’ll fall in love with you.

“Is this because of Tyson?” Aiden accuses, questioning the real reasoning behind this conversation.

“What? No!” You exclaim, shocked by the accusation. He knew the two of you were best and friends and knew the history of your relationship with him. You had no idea where the accusation was coming from and before you could ask, Aiden stands from his spot on the couch.

“You clearly don’t see it then, but okay.” Aiden closes, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch and shrugging it on before walking out of your apartment with a light slam of the door.

You stand there for a few more minutes, taking in all that had just happened, and taking in the sight of his half-eaten Chinese. You’re not really sure what to do, and you’re not entirely sure you should feel this normal after breaking up with someone. Pulling out your phone, you check the time before deciding on calling Caitlyn. She picks up on the second ring with a cheery hello before you start.

“Aiden and I just broke up.” You state simply, little to no emotion laced in your tone.

“What? Are you okay?” She asks in shock.

“Yeah, I guess,” You start. You put the phone on speaker before setting it down on your kitchen table and start picking at your nails. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“The second he walked out of the door I wanted to call Tyson, no offense, but I haven’t talked to him since our fight the other day.” You admit, biting on your cuticles.

“Y/n,” She says, dragging out your name.

“Can I come over?” You ask, already going over to put your shoes on.

You arrive at Caitlyn’s house not too long later, letting yourself in and dropping to her couch with a loud groan. ”I’m so over this whole finding your soulmate thing.” Caitlyn laughs, walking into the living room from her kitchen, bottle of tequila in one hand, and a mixer in the other for you. She hands both to you as you take a pull from the tequila before taking a large sip from the mixer.

“Is it bad that I wanted to talk to Tyson the second Aiden left?”

“Uhm, I don’t think so,” She starts to reason. “I mean, he’s one of your best friends. I think it’s pretty similar to you calling me.”

“I guess,” you softly respond. You clasp your hands in your lap, picking at your cuticles, pondering the events of the past hour. “Whenever Tyson had asked me if I loved Aiden, the question hadn’t left my brain, and honestly, I’m really glad he did ask me.” Caitlyn chooses not to respond, instead staying quiet and letting you say anything that’s on your mind

“Before he left he said I don’t see it with Tyson?” You ask, infliction in your voice. “Do you know what that even means?”

Caitlyn thinks as to what Aiden could have possibly meant by the statement. She clearly has an idea as her face twists in what seems to be confusion. Her mouth opens and closes before she finally speaks, “I think that it could mean a lot of different things, but you need to figure out what it means on your own. Have you talked to Tyson since you guys got into that fight last week?”

“He texted me and apologized and I said I was sorry for just walking out on him like that, but other than that, no. I miss him.” Suddenly, the emotions you lacked feeling in the span of the last hour came flooding to you and your eyes glossed over at the thought that the last time you saw Tyson you yelled at him. You sniffle, trying to hold back the actual act of crying and Caitlyn scootches her body closer to yours. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and you rest your head on her shoulder. At the very moment you open your mouth, a sob comes out of your mouth instead of words.

“I haven’t watched any of his games and I’ve been looking at his stats and he’s been playing like shit.” You let out through the break-in your cries.

“Oh, y/n, you know you’re not the reason behind that. I watched some of the games and the whole team hasn‘t been playing very well, not just him.” Caitlyn assures you while moving her hand up and down your shoulder in comfort. “Why don’t you call him when his game ends. He’s in Ottawa, yeah? They’re two hours ahead so you’ll still be up.”

By the time the game ends - and when your eyes are dry, the Avalanche lose to Ottawa 5-2 and you give it about another hour before you check Tyson’s location on Find My Friends to see if he’s at the hotel. You see that he’s there and you pull up his contact, thumb hovering over the call button.

“You got it, Y/n, there’s nothing to be nervous about,” Caitlyn reassures you. “Do you want me to stay or leave the room?”

You let her know she’s good to leave and do her own thing and you press the call button, bringing the phone up to your ear. To your surprise, the line only rings once before you hear the click on Tyson answering.

“Hey,” You say softly, breathing out a huge sigh of relief now that you’ve gotten this far.

“Hey, I’m sorry-”

“No, I’m the one that should be sorry, Tyson,” You interrupt.

“I’m sorry too, but it’s the past now, yeah?”

“I am though, sorry. Me walking out like that wasn’t right and calling you immature was even worse. You’re the exact opposite and I hope you know that. You were just trying to help me see what everyone else saw, and I get that now.” You admit. Your anxiety about the situation starts to ease a little bit as you get the apology off your chest.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry I just yelled at you of nowhere, it was unnecessary,” Tyson also apologizes. “Wait, what do you mean you get that now?”

“Oh, uh, Aiden and I broke up,” You answer. “Today, actually.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyson responds softly.

“Don’t be. You were right, I didn’t love him and I didn’t see myself ever loving him.” You answer with a shrug. You feel much lighter now that you’re saying all of this out loud for the second time and especially feeling better now that you’re talking to your best friend.

“It still sucks.” He mutters back. The line goes quiet for a bit, the only sound either one of you can hear is the scratchy breathing through the phone. “I missed you.” He admits, breaking the silence.

Just with that statement, you can feel yourself get emotional all over again, your previously dry eyes turning glossy again. “I missed you,” You hiccup.

“Hey, are you crying?” Tyson asks, sitting up further in his hotel bed.

“No,” you lie, wiping away at the few tears that and running down your cheeks.

“Don’t do that,” He says, and you can picture him scrunching his eyebrows together as he speaks. You let out a breath and smile a true, genuine smile, for probably the first time in at least a week. “I’m actually really glad you called. I needed to talk to you.”

You hum in question at his statement, urging him to go on.

“So, I’ve been playing like a literal pile of dog shit lately and before you interrupt me to tell me I’m not, don’t. I’m playing terribly.” He starts, and you’re pretty confused as to where this conversation is headed. “I, uh, got pulled aside after the game. I’m getting sent down to the AHL when we get back to Denver.”

“Oh my god, Tyson,” You respond in surprise, voice barely above a whisper. Your body jolts to the edge of the couch to sit straight up as you bring your free hand to cover your mouth in shock.

“It’s okay, it happens to a lot of young guys. I just have to go down there and work my ass off to be brought back up.” Tyson says, but you

“Still, that’s a lot to take in. Do you know how long you’ll be there?”

“No, coach said he thinks I’ll be back soon as long as I can prove myself to be a higher caliber player,” He continues. “Our team’s in Loveland, too, so I’ll be able to still stay at my house. I'll just have to commute more.” The uncertainty in his voice makes you anxious, and you know that he’s more upset with himself than he’s letting on.

“Like I always say, you’re a superstar and everyone knows it. You’ll be back in no time.” You assure him as you relax back into the couch.

“Thanks, y/n, I appreciate you being here for me. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” You smile, silence falls between the two of you again and you hear him yawn on the other side of the phone. “I’ll let you get some sleep, Goodnight Tys.”

“I’ll see you when I get back, right?”

“Of course, love you.”

“Goodnight, y/n, love you.” He responds, the simple phrase causing your smile to widen and butterflies to appear in your stomach. You were happy you had your best friend back.

tag list: @REAVENEDGES-LIES @oilers2997 (if you want to be added just let me know)

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost #alex writes #ybtmastm fic

98 notes · View notes