#but if you post a lil criticsm

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Rise of Red really brings out the toxic positivity in people, huh?

[stupidsexyseguin]

Okay so can we get a little fic because of that trade rumor post?! Like it's 100% fake but Tyler hears he might get traded again (from so asshole on another team) and he tries to shrug it off but he panics. He's too scared to look it up or ask anyone because he doesn't want it to be true. The more he worries about it the worse his game gets, causing him to worry more.

I CHANGED IT A LIL BIT BUT HERE HAVE TRADE JITTERS FIC

Tyler knows he shouldn’t google himself. really. he knows.

the internet is full of weird shit and a lot of it is about Tyler.

But he’s a narcissist at heart. and the part of him that isn’t is really fucking insecure and needs to know what people are saying about him behind his back.

and today had been such a shitty day. everything had been going wrong. and he needed a pick-me-up. something to make him feel better about himself. and the fansites were always good at fawning over his abs and his smile and his dogs. 

so he fucking googled himself.

and the first thing that came up was a fucking deadspin article.

“Seguin Trade Rumors- Is 91 Headed to the Habs?”

and that’s just fucking ridiculous. Tyler’s not going anywhere. The Stars aren’t going to trade him. especially not now, when it looks like they might actually have a chance at playoffs this year- not even for Carey fucking Price. yeah they’d gain a more consistent goalie, but they’d be fucking up the team dynamics- pulling confidence out from under them- by trading one of the franchise players.

So Tyler knows he isn’t getting traded.

but.

it’s still a lingering question in his mind.

one that sticks with him as he heads into practice. That weighs on him with every missed pass, every blocked shot, every piece of criticsm from the coaches. he can feel himself getting into his own head and he just can’t get out.

He can tell Jamie knows something’s up- Tyler could see it in those soulful dark eyes when he’d failed to join in on ribbing Kari in the locker room, had turned down lunch with some of the rookies when he usually jumped at the chance, had quietly packed his things and left without his usual round of enthusiastic hugs and bro-ish backslapping.

But Jamie doesn’t say anything, just lets Tyler be. and Tyler doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

so Tyler finds himself alone in the middle of the afternoon, in his rattiest sweatpants, curled up on the floor with his three idiot puppies. Marshall happily acts as his pillow while Cash and Gerry vie for pats and prime nap space on top of him. His babies are so great, but such fucking goobers sometimes. He’s so caught up in making sure neither of them feels left out that he fails to hear the front door when Jamie lets himself in.

“Is this puppy therapy?” Tyler starts, and lets out a pained groan as Cash shoves a paw in an unfortunate place in his scramble to go say hi to Jamie. Gerry seems torn about whether to take advantage of his dad being completely free or to go steal Jamie’s attention from his big brother. Marshall, reliable Marshall, happily (lazily) just stays where he is.

“No, it’s called father-son bonding time.”

Jamie chuckles and drops down beside him, letting Gerry crawl into his lap and lick at his jaw. Tyler waits for Jamie to say something, anything, but he just seems content to sit and watch Tyler.

“Am I being traded?” it bursts out of him before he can stop it, sounding small and uncertain and scared. he feels like a little child. a little, lost, fucking child. Jamie frowns at him and reaches out to run a hand through Tyler’s unruly curls.

“Why would you think that.” Tyler scrunches his face and looks away “You need to stop googling yourself, babe.”

“I couldn’t help it! but- am I? are they? they could get Carey Price. I could be in fucking Montreal this time next week!” Tyler feels like he could cry.

he doesn’t want to go to Montreal.

he wants to stay in Dallas.

with his team. his boys. his family.

Jamie shoves Gerry gently from his knees and crawls in next to Tyler, pressing their foreheads together.

“You’re not getting traded, Segs. You’re staying here in Dallas. We’re gonna win the cup. we’re gonna show everyone what we’re made of.” He presses kisses to Tyler’s cheeks, his nose. “Together, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He buries himself against Jamie, pushing all those worries, all that doubt, out of his mind. “Together.”