#when i post this i’ll be at work lmao i’m really posting it then dipping | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toplinetommy · 4 years ago

Text

Kill My Lonely Nights - Tyson Jost

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

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

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

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

words: 20k+

warnings: alcohol, smut, unprotected sex

“Tyson, you know my neighbor right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You liked the squash, eh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think JT’s looking for you.”

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

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

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

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

“Does JT know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I talked to my mom this morning.”

“Yeah? How is she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is there to talk about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long has this been going on for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He literally tripped me in practice today!”

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

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

“But,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we talk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plus One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

494 notes · View notes

bisexual-thoughtss · 3 years ago

Text

Stu Macher x reader

If the character is played by Matthew Lillard, you better believe I’m writing about them lmao Bit of smut I’ve been working on, finally decided to post it in honor of the new Scream coming out. Hope you all like it!!

Tw; kind of dubcon? But not really, it’s consensual, it’s just roleplay

You were finally home after a long day and you just wanted to watch some horror movies and relax. Once you make it to your bedroom, you quickly strip out of your clothes and flop into bed, not caring enough at the moment to put on pajamas. For a moment you just laid in bed, de-stressing after your day. As you relaxed, you figured you might as well really de-stress and what better way to do that than an orgasm? You skimmed your fingers gently over your skin, humming as they flitted across your chest, you nipples hardening in their wake. You pinched and flicked and when you’d worked yourself up enough, your fingers had just ghosted over your wetness when the shrill sound of your phone ringing shocked you. You groaned but picked up the phone.

“Hello?” You answered, trying not to sound too annoyed.

“Hello, who is this?” A deep voice asked.

“What? You called me, who are you?” You huffed.

“Did I interrupt something? You sound annoyed,” the man asked, sounding amused.

“No, I’m just- watching a movie. Who is this?” You asked, your fingers still hovering over where you wanted them.

“Really? It doesn’t look like that from here,” the voice chuckled, making you gasp. Your legs snapped shut, bringing a hand up to cover your chest as you glanced out your window. Your blood ran cold when you saw the masked figure standing outside.

“But don’t let me interrupt, please continue,” he instructed, watching your reaction.

“But- I, um-“ you stuttered, watching the masked man with bated breath.

“But nothing sweetheart, go on or I’ll come in there and gut you. You’re too pretty for me to have to do that, go on, touch yourself,” he ordered. Your breathing had picked up, finding yourself shivering at the words. You slowly let your legs fall back open, your fingers beginning to play with your nipples again, and you were squirming under your own ministrations in no time.

“I can see how wet you are from here, and you haven’t even touched yourself yet. What a little slut, getting watched by a killer gets you all hot and bothered. Go on, touch yourself, I don’t have all night,” he laughed darkly, making you whine as your fingers fell between your legs, finding yourself to be just as wet as he had said.

“C’mon, before I come in there and do you myself. I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He asked, your eyes slipping shut as you dipped two fingers into yourself, moaning loudly at his words. You worked your fingers in and out of yourself, losing yourself in the pleasure when suddenly a hand was pressed over your mouth.

“Easy, pretty girl. I’m just here to make your fantasies come true,” the man said as you jolted, the ghost mask only inches from your face now. His gloved hand skimmed over your skin, the roughness of the fabric on your sensitive nipples making you squirm. His fingers trail down your torso, goosebumps forming in the wake of the fabric on your skin before he shakes the glove off, tossing it away. You whined into the hand over your mouth as he used the other to drag his fingers from your entrance to your clit, groaning at how wet you were.

“Soaked just from getting watched by a psycho, what kind of slutty girl are you, hm?” He teased, pressing his fingers into you. You groaned into his hand and spread your legs wider from him.

“You’re not gonna scream are you? I’d have to leave you high and dry, you don’t want that do you?” He asked, his hand uncovering your mouth, moving to grasp your chin while he waited for an answer.

“N-no, please,” you whined, gasping as his thumb moved to your clit in tandem with his fingers inside you.

“That’s what I thought. Look at you, getting off on a stranger touching you. Bet you’d let anyone come touch you, huh,” he teased, chuckling as you clenched around his fingers.

“You want my mouth, pretty girl?” He asked, smirk evident in his voice.

“Yes! Stu, please,” You moaned as his fingers curled just right inside you.

“Aw don’t ruin the game, babe,” Stu laughed as he emerged from under the mask, tossing it to the side.

“Please, your tongue, I need it,” you begged, watching as he gave in easily and settled between your legs. He wasted no time delving his tongue into you immediately, your hands tangling in his hair.

“So hot, baby, you’d just let anyone come and play with you, wouldn’t you?” He rambled, his fingers diligently working inside you, bringing his mouth down to suction around your clit.

“N-no, just you, Stu. Only you,” you whined, your mouth dropping open silently as he moaned into you, the vibrations sending you over the edge. You felt yourself clamp down onto his fingers, your thighs squeezing around his head as you rode out your high, pulling his hair maybe a little too hard. Once you finally relaxed, Stu emerged from between your legs looking as if he was the one who’d been fucked.

“Love you so much, baby,” Stu smiled lazily, nearly cutting off his own sentence in his haste to kiss you.

“That was even hotter than I thought it would be,” you blushed.

“Yeah? You like being the helpless victim?” he smirked, lightly nipping at your neck.

“Yeah, but don’t you want something?” You asked, reaching for his zipper only for him to grab your hand before you could reach it.

“I- uh, no I’m good, sorry,” he blushed brightly as you finally looked down to see the wet spot on his pants. You pulled him back into a heated kiss, moaning into his mouth.

“Sorry? You came just from eating me out, that’s so hot,” you praised, pressing kisses to his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asked, smiling as he dropped his weight on top of you, making you grunt as he laughed and wrapped himself around you like an octopus.

#stu macher imagine #stu macher fanfic #stu macher #stu macher x reader #matthew lillard x reader #Matthew lillard #scream #ghostface x reader #ghostface

790 notes · View notes

hereforhalstead · 3 years ago

Text

Period Pains

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: Nope! Just fancied some soft!Jay

• Warnings: pure fluff besties

• Summary: Jay looks after you as you experience a rough period, unlike anything you’ve felt before.

• Words: 2482.

• A/N : When I tell you this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever written lmao. I’m so weak for soft!Jay at the moment and had just came on my period when i started this a few weeks ago.. I have a few ongoing requests at the moment that I’m working on, promise I’m not ignoring them but I just don’t want to post them until I’m happy with them!

Hope you enjoy!

You notice the bed beside you dip with Jay’s weight as he joins you, fresh from the shower as you feel the heat radiating from him. You attempt to shift and face him, craving the feeling of having your head against his chest with the rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you to sleep. You wince as a cramp hits your stomach, slinging your arm across your stomach as a natural reflex for when the wave of pain arises.

Jay places a hand on the edge of your shoulder, gripping round your skin as he moves your hair to one side to place a delicate kiss to the exposed shoulder blade “Stay facing that way, I’ll be able to rub your stomach” he whispers into the nape of your neck and causing a shiver to run down your spine at the softness of his words.

You happily do as you’re told, still in somewhat of a half consciousness as you doze in and out of sleep with the thought of knowing he was there beside you helping the pain drift away.

“Life your hips for me baby” he softly demands, encouraging you to lift your side for just a few seconds to allow him to slip his arm under you to rest a hand on your stomach “You’re burning up” he tuts, removing the hot water bottle you had pressed against you and placing it on the the other side of the bed “Don’t want you getting too warm, you’ll make yourself ill”.

His firm tone made your heart flutter, he always had your best interests at heart and made the smallest of actions seem natural to him. You’d happily let yourself curl up under a blanket with a hot water bottle until you were burning hot but it would always leave you feeling faint and you’d end up cooling off in a cold bath or shower which really defeated the object..

You laid in a comfortable silence with Jay, cursing under your breath as another wave of pain hit "Why am I a girl” you mocked, digging your head further into your pillow as some form of distraction. Jay would take it in his stride, dropping a kiss to your back and chuckling as you swear under your breath to take your mind off the intense cramps.

The motion of Jay rubbing his hand softly over your stomach didn’t stop, you expected it to after a while but it never did. He was constantly tracing shapes across your skin, running his fingernails back and forth under your shirt and laughing as you occasionally flinched if it tickled. Whether it was a placebo affect or not, the cramps would ease under his touch and helped you get a brief moment of sleep.

You awoke just under an hour later to an empty bed, turning over to see the covers thrown back and Jay’s side of the bed vacant made your heart sink. He was the one helping you through this and even though the painkillers had kicked in, you still missed him just being beside you.

You would often be the first one up in the mornings, heading to the gym before work or just wanting to be awake to make him a morning coffee meant you weren’t used to being in bed alone. He was always there with you, even when you teased him for how long the pair of you would spend in bed on your days off, you loved it and wouldn’t want it any other way.

In replacement of Jay’s hand, you must’ve reached for the hot water bottle in your sleep and that was a mistake. You were now sweating, the clothes clinging to your skin as it glistens with sweat, feeling clamy and gross wasn’t what you needed right now.

Trudging over to the bathroom and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror was an instant regret, you were hunched to try and relieve the cramps, hair disheveled and your body was covered in red blotches from the hot water bottle. If you didn’t feel horrendous before, you did now.

You always worried in your relationship that you weren’t good enough for Jay, he woke up and looked perfect, would finish an intense workout and look like a sports model or even concentrating on some paperwork he would look flawless and here you were looking the complete opposite.

You let out a deep sigh, running your fingers through your hair in some attempt to regain a sense of decency but there was no point. Your feelings were being intensified from your period and leaving you feeling worse than ever, wanting to curl up in bed and cry was seeming most appealing but before you can enjoy a good ole pity cry you hear the keys turning in the lock.

Quickly wiping the tears from your face and using Jay’s tshirt that you were currently wearing to try and remove the stains from your cheek was useless, you panicked. Jay seemed to have unnatural ability to tell when you’re not feeling yourself, and this is no exception. Just from taking one look at you he’d be able to tell you were upset and you didn’t want that to be the case, you’d already had a pity day and the last thing he needed was to see you were feeling worse.

You chugged some water that he had left on the side and took another glance at yourself in the mirror, the red blotches had made their way to your neck so were now much more visible and your normal cheery smile was no where to be seen.

“Baby?” you hear Jay call out, rustling around with some bags in the kitchen before making his way over to the room you shared. You were sat on the edge of the bed with your arms folded across your stomach, leant forward in pain as you rested your head on your knees.

His heart pulled at the sight, you were in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. He prided himself on always doing whatever he could to help you in any given situation and not being able to take away the hurt was killing him. He’d helped you through many periods in the past but this was the worst one by far, you’d be able to take some paracetamol and carry on but this was defeating you.

You barely had a chance to respond before you heard the footsteps getting louder as he made his way towards you, letting out a deep sigh as he sees you scrunched over in pain. The noise of bags rustling comes to a stop as he crouches down in front of you, resting his hand on the back of your neck and the other on your knee to hold himself steady as he balances.

“What happened baby?” his smooth voice was music to your ears, he didn’t even have to do anything and he was already soothing you more than you ever could. You sniffed before bringing your attention onto him, watching as his eyes soften when he see’s the redness in your cheeks and the hurt in your gaze.

“Nothing” you lie through your teeth, already knowing he won’t fall for it but thinking it was worth a shot. Instead of giving you the normal ‘are you forgetting how well I know you?’ speech, he simply tilted his head to the side and lifted his hand to rest on the side of your face with a doting look “We’ll talk about it later”.

You were grateful for how well he knew you, knowing not to push you and that you weren’t in the mood to be interviewed like a suspect. Normally you loved it, thinking it was cute how he always craved to prove how well he knew you and could tell you were off just by a simple look but in doing this he knew best to leave it until you were ready.

“Did you have to go back to work?” you question, still absentmindidly leaning into Jay’s touch as he gently moves his thumb back and forth to caress your cheekbone. A simple shake of his head made you smile, you were secretly hoping you’d have him to yourself so when you awoke to the empty bed you just assumed he’d been called in.

You couldn’t hide the frown that formed as he removed his hand and stood in front of you, reaching for something on the bed as you stayed hunched over below him. “I got your favourite ice cream” he comments, holding the tub out to you with a grin spreading on his face as your eyes light up “I thought they stopped selling it?” you questioned, already peeling off the plastic from the lid.

“They did in our local, I asked around and drove to the only place they said still sells it” the pride in his voice was unlike anything you’d heard before as he carried on rummaging around the bag before pulling out 3 more tubs “Didn’t know how many you wanted so I stocked up” he chuckled, placing the tubs back into the bag and watching as you nibble round the edge of the container, too impatient to wait for a spoon.

“You don’t want these then?” you looked round to see him holding a family size bag of crisps, a handful of candy bars and even a box of your favourite instant hot chocolate that you used to have as a child. “How did you know” you probe, reaching for the box and examining the text.

Struggling to remember the last time you saw the packaging in a shop, let alone holding it in your hands. The box feeling so much smaller than it used to from when you were young, bounding to the cashier with 5 or 6 boxes to buy with your pocket money.

“On our first date we passed a shop that sold them and I’ll never forget the look on your face. You told me how your mum would always make you one if you were having a bad day and they’d always make you feel better” he smiled and could feel the tears brimming in your eyes.

You and Jay had been together nearly 8 months and he still remembered the tinist detail from your first date, something you had even forgotten about. A little remark you made as you passed the shop on the way back to the car park, not thinking much of it as who would remember about a box of instant hot chocolate that probably didn’t even taste good? Jay did.

“Get into bed and I’ll get some bowls for these” he collects the items and puts them back into the bag, his tone still gentle despite the excitement you knew he had inside from presenting you with everything you needed without being asked.

You shook your head, standing to wrap your arms around his torso. Nestling your head into his chest as you feel it vibrate from a silent laugh “I told you to get into bed baby” you felt the shivers run down your spine as he rested his hand on the back of your head, allowing his hand to roam up and down your back in a soft motion.

“What did I do to deserve you” you mumble into his chest, feeling him rest his head on top of yours as his hand settled on your lower back to push you further into him “So I did good?” you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, pulling back to examine the glowing grin peering back at you as his eyes glistened.

You reached to place a light kiss to his lips, a soft kiss that told him everything he needed to know “Are you gonna make me tell you to get into bed again?” he joked, tapping your back to retract yourself from him. Begrugingly you did so, already feeling the slight cold from the lack of contact you now craved from him.

Picking the bags up from the bed to pull back the blanket, you felt the weight of something still in the bottom. You opened the carriers to see what must’ve been atleast 5 boxes of different sanitary products rolling around in the bags “What’s this?” you asked, confused as to why he went out of his way to buy you the snacks but you never would’ve expected him to know what products to buy you, or atleast try and guess as you always joked about how little men knew about the whole thing.

“I didn’t know if you needed any” his voice was timid, reaching to rub the back of his neck with his hand which was a sign of nervousness you’d picked up on over the past few months . “Jay, how much do you think I bleed?” you were grateful to see the corners of his lips lift in a smile “Well, I realised I’ve never bought you any so I wanted to get a few so I had more of a chance of getting the right ones” he admitted, your hands falling to your sides as you allowed the bag to drop to the floor.

Your feet were bounding over to him before you could even think, all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him as you had no words for everything he had done. “I can’t believe how much I love you” your voice slightly cracked as you felt the lump rise to your throat, as much as Jay loved to care for you, you never would've expected this.

“I’m sorry I can’t take the pain away” you felt him plant a kiss to the top of your head, another one of his small guestures that made you week at the knees without him even knowing. “You’ve helped more than you’ll ever know” you smiled into him, cringing at your cheesy confession but knowing he loves to hear these things from you, adding to his ego of how well he looks after you.

You both stood in a comfortable silence, basking in each other presence with the simplicity of the background noises coming from the streets below. From someone looking on, the way you were standing probably didn’t look very comfortable. The way you were entangled together, your arms hanging from his neck as his moved around your body to press his fingertips in the various parts he knew you were probably feeling pain. When Jay finally breaks the silence, he mutters the words that at the moment sounded better than ‘i love you’ when they fell from his lips “Do you want some ice cream, baby?”

TAG LIST

@halsteadlover • @musicismyescape27 • @i-like-sparkly-things • @stephanie708 • @upsteadlovingheart • @nevaehstreater18 • @strand-nash • @secondaryjob • @youngblood199456 • @soph0864 •

Click here to be added to my tag list💖

Inbox and requests open🥰

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead drabble #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead smut #one chicago x reader #jay halstead x you

526 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 3 years ago

Text

Kinktober Day 7: Somnophilia (+Double Penetration - 2 holes)

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,397

Warnings: Somnophilia, double penetration, anal sex, sex toys (dildo + plug), dom!Roger, protected sex, light degradation (slut), edging

A/N: This was kind of inspired by a couple of different posts I saw on a (now deleted) porn blog. I’ve been wanting to do something with the concepts for a little while now and this seemed like the perfect opportunity!

I guess I was picturing 70s rog since its a flatmate/fwb type relationship but go nuts imagining whatever you want lmao

It hadn’t been Roger’s idea to set up a friends with bennefits type arrangement, but he’d liked the suggestion when you made it and before the end of the night was out you’d sealed the deal, so to speak. He’d been a touch tispy at the time, as had you, but when he woke up in your bed the next morning he hadn’t believed it to be a mistake, even if you were his flatmate. And so the arrangement (or as Roger dubbed it, The Fuckbuddy Pact) stuck. In an effort to make sure neither of you would feel weird about what happened and to avoid anything becoming too much like a relationship, Roger suggested that you should get all your kinks and weird fetishes out into the open straight away.

“That way we’ll both know what we’re in for from the jump,” he said, looking at you from the opposite end of the couch, “None of that getting to know you shit, or taking our time. We’re both here for sex so let’s just figure out what sex we’ll both like and get straight into it, right?” “Sounds excellent,” you’d said, cheersing his bottle of beer with your glass. It was how he’d discovered your interest in somnophilia (a term he’d not heard before and had needed a thorough explanation of). But once he knew what it was, Roger had been keen to try it out with you. There were other things too but the somnophilia was the newest to him and, thus, the most exciting. Before the month was out you’d figured out a system to incorproate it into your sex safely. The main rule was that if either of you was asleep and naked, it was okay to initiate sex. Eventually there ended up being a few exceptions or addendums added to that rule – it was still okay if the sleeping party wore a top of some kind as long as they were pantsless, and once or twice lingerie had been deemed to not count as clothes, but only on special occasions when you’d prearranged it. It became a regular part of your sex lives, which was especially useful for Roger who often didn’t get home from playing gigs until the early hours of the morning. If you were in bed and undressed, he’d take the opportunity to blow off some of the adrenaline without having to use his hand which was underwhelming compared to your cunt. But, more often than not, you’d do what most sexual partners did and got it out of your systems before bed time.

Roger already suspected that you were hoping for a quick tumble when he heard the knock on his door, but he had other things on his mind too as he told you to come in. “Hey, Rog, you busy?” “Uhhh yeah, sorry, running late for rehearsals but I can’t find my fucking drumsticks,” Roger said, moving things around his desk as he searched for the missing sticks. “Oh, damn.” “Let me guess,” he said, pausing in the hunt and turning to face you, “horny?” “My friend recommended a porn thing and I kinda got worked up.” You shrugged, unembarrassed to admit what you wanted. That self-confidence was enough to make Roger wish he could stay and give you what you wanted but he was already late and couldn’t afford to be later. Instead he laughed and turned back to double check his backpack, “I would but, I’m leaving as soon as I fin- Aha! Bloody things must have rolled off the bed. Sorry, Y/N.” “Oh, no worries. I’ll take care of myself.” He smiled at the thought, “Well I better go. See you tonight?” “Yeah, see ya. Have fun.”

It was later than he’d expected by the time Roger got home. Part of him (the part in his pants mostly) vaguely wondered if you’d still be up for something but the bits of him controlled by his brain thought it more likely that you’d have had a nice couple of orgasms on your own and called it a night. Still, he thought he might at least check in on you once he’d dropped his bag in his room. To his surprise though, his bed wasn’t empty like it should have been. He jumped when the light from the hall softly illuminated you, on your back and deep asleep, but his shock quickly turned to delight as he realised you were naked. “You little minx,” he muttered under his breath, impressed by the invitation you were giving him. But as he walked closer he paused again, noticing something he hadn’t been able to see from the doorway. There, beside your hand, was your favourite glass dildo, as if you’d passed out after using it. “Oh you are naughty,” Roger chuckled. He traced one hand down your body, between your breasts and over your stomach, and softly said your name, checking if you’d rouse. But you were deep asleep and not likely to wake up any time soon. A plan for what to do with you forming, Roger stepped away from you for a moment to strip down to his briefs. His cock was already beginning to stir at the sight of you. He reached out to touch you again, less cautiously this time, palming your breasts before dipping his hand lower and lower, down to your cunt, pleased to find you still wet from whatever you’d been doing before you fell asleep. You let out a soft hum as he explored you, thumb teasing over your clit as he wet his fingers between your folds. Roger paused at the sound, not ready for you to wake up yet, but once it was clear you were still asleep he sank two fingers into you. Slowly they penetrated your heat, pausing to make sure the sensation hadn’t roused you at all. But you slept on. Carefully Roger partially withdrew his fingers before sinking them in again, gradually working up to a consistent thrust that had your unconscious body sighing and spreading your legs wider. “Good girl,” he whispered, watching you carefully. The hall light was still on but his door wasn’t open fully so the darkness was only dimmed slightly. He twisted his fingers inside you, easily finding the spots that usually made you scream his name but which now just made your eyebrows knit together. By this point in your relationships Roger was quite confident that he could understand your body. He’d made you cum enough times, awake and asleep, to know what you liked and just how much you liked it. And he knew what it looked like when you were close to orgasm. Which is how he knew to stop, to still his fingers and wait for you to calm down.

There was no real reason to edge you. If anything it just made it more likely you’d wake before he’d got his dick wet. But he had fun with it. Watching the way you’d shift, your chest rising and falling more rapidly, your lips parted as whimpers fell from them, your hips automatically rolling to meet his hand. And then he’d stop again. It made him chuckle quietly to himself. Knowing he could control your body so easily was thrilling. It made him want to do it more. So as soon as your face had relaxed again, your limbs loose and limp, he’d settle into the rhythm once more, curious how much you’d take before you woke up and begged him to finish you off. It was tempting to just keep going. He pictured you waking with a moan, your first words a plea for release or better yet for his cock so he could fuck you properly. Roger groaned. In the time he’d taken to edge you a handful of times his dick had well and truly stiffened and, as much as he enjoyed toying with you, what he really wanted was to cum in you so when you woke you’d know you’d been used. With that thought in mind he withdrew his fingers fully, taking a second to suck them clean and enjoy your taste. Having you on his tongue just made him want to fuck you more so he carefully knelt between your legs, shifting one to give himself a better angle. He was moments from finally taking what he so wanted to take from you, when something caught his eye.

It didn’t glint as much as it did in the day but he could see it’s outline all the same. And when he double checked that he wasn’t imaging it, pressing his thumb against the hard end of it, you groaned. “A dildo and a butt plug?” He asked you, knowing you wouldn’t respond, “Is that a surprise for me? Or is it just because nothing satisfies you like I do?” Roger’s hand slipped down to his underwear, pushing his briefs down enough that he could get his cock out. He hissed as he spread his precum along his length, contemplating how he should use you. “Could fuck your cunt now and hope you stay asleep long enough for me to get back there. Or maybe I should just go all in, have your arse straight away. That’ll mean wearing a condom though. Or would it?” he shook his head, now was not the time to try anal raw for the first time, “No, condom definitely.” He was still trying to decide what to do when you shifted in your sleep, rolling onto your side. The new position you lay in made it much easier to reach your arsehole. “That decides it then,” Roger said to himself, shedding his underwear and opening his bedside draw for his lube.

Carefully, he settled himself behind you and slowly began to remove your plug. It took a few stops and starts, pulling out and sinking in, almost fucking you with it, as you whimpered in your sleep but you seemed to press yourself back towards him as if trying to encourage him. “Just can’t get enough of me, can you?” he chuckled as he set the plug aside and spread the lube around your hole. He rolled the condom down his shaft and spread the lube along it too, humming at the slick friction of his hand, knowing he was about to feel something a hundred thousand times better. And then he lined himself up, pushing the head of his cock into the ring of muscles you’d so generously stretched out with your plug. He went slowly there too, partially so you’d sleep on and partially so he wouldn’t cum embarrassingly fast. When he finally began to fuck you, you moaned into your pillow, able to feel it in your sleep. Roger bit his lip to keep his own moan from getting too loud. You moved in your sleep again, your legs opening more as you half rolled onto your front. It let Roger fuck you deeper and gave him better access to your pussy too. “You’re a bit of a whore when you’re alseep,” he said softly, reaching for the dildo. You were still wet enough that it sank into you easily, like it remembered where it had been earlier and fit into your cunt perfectly. The way you lay meant he didn’t have what he’d call easy access to you but it was enough that he could thrust the dildo somewhat rhythmically. He faltered here and there as the feeling of fucking you distracted him but he didn’t feel too bad about the slips, knowing it was keeping you from reaching your release. Your sleepy sighs and moans got louder as he filled both your holes which just made him fuck you harder, enjoying the sounds you were making and wanting to hear more.

You woke with a broken moan in your throat, jerking under Roger’s hands but he shushed you, his palms warm against your skin and his voice familiar and reassuring. “Stay right there, baby. Being such a good set of holes for me to enjoy.” You couldn’t do much more than moan again, dazed from the sudden way you’d been pulled back to consciousness and realising what you’d felt in your dreams had been very real indeed. “This was what you wanted wasn’t it? When you fell asleep in my bed.” You nodded, the sound of the fabric of the pillowcase loud against your ear. “Uh uh, words Love. If you’re going to be a slut the least you can do is admit it.” “Yes, Rog. Want-wanted this.” “Good girl. And how do you feel now?” “Oh god, close. So close.” Roger slowed the pace of the dildo, putting more effort into thrusting into you, his hips slapping loudly against your skin. You keened at the loss of friction. “Slut-s don’t com-complain.” Roger grunted as he used you, “They t-ake what they’re giv-en.” You whined but that just made Roger laugh, louder now you were awake but broken by groans and moans of his own. It didn’t take much more for him to cum, stuttering out, “Fu-ck Y-Y/N,” as he did.

Roger was panting as he eased himself out of your arsehole, replacing his cock with the plug and giving your hip a light tap of thanks. The dildo was still inside you, but he’d not been moving it at all as he reached his climax so it wasn’t much help. “Did you cum?” he asked, his breathing still heavy as he flopped onto the mattress beside you. You shook your head and sighed, “And after I waited here all night to surprise you too. Thought you’d be home sooner.” “Is that why you had the toys? You got bored waiting for me?” “No, I was expecting you to come home while I was using them. Only then I came and fell asleep.” "Of course,” Roger laughed, “you still got your shag though, don’t know why you’re complaining.” “I’m really fucking horny still, that’s bloody why. What are you smirking about?” “Nothing. Just nice to know edging you in your sleep works just as well as when you’re awake.” “Prick!” you squealed though unable to contain your smile at the idea. “Don’t worry. Give me a few minutes to clean up and get my stamina back and then I’ll make you cum as many times as you want.”

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

#my writing #my blurbs #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine

160 notes · View notes

fanfictionsquared · 2 years ago

Text

I’m reworking my one MoD!Harry AU. Details below the cut.

Who did I draw in the pic?

Regulus (sharp cheekbone, curly hair that changes length)

Sirius (in the jacket with pins hehe)

Lily Luna (red hair)

Teddy (blue hair)

What is the AU now, FF^2?

*inhales deeply*

SO. Everything’s mostly canon (not cursed child compliant tho lmao), and Harry is officially Master of Death since he was the owner of all three hallows at the same time. This means, essentially, that he is now the personification/god of death.

Since Harry is Harry tho, he doesn’t want to live forever alone, and so his friends and family try to help him find a way to get out of it. There isn’t one. So he is, of course, resigned to living forever alone.

Except his friends decide “no, no thanks, we’re not letting you do this alone.” So when Harry dies and ‘ascends,’ his family and friends choose to ascend with him. He’s able to reach already dead souls using the stone, so Sirius also ends up making the choice to ascend too. The rest of the dead are content staying where they are.

(I have,,,, such a long list of who ascends and what they do and blah blah blah, but I’m not gonna get into it because it is….. so much. It’s truly just so much.)

The important thing is that the way this works is that the universe resets itself every so often, slightly different each time. And certain things carry through, like tales turning into mythos. Harry and his immortal (sometimes reincarnating) family, are the focus of several of these myths, including the harbingers of the apocalypse one.

So when his family meddles, it’s usually with those names, rather than their original ones. Which, when they interact with alternate incarnations of people they know, can cause some shenanigans.

What is actually depicted in your doodles?

Regulus,,,, listen he is my current blorbo and I just wanted to draw him, ok? The jegulus fandom got its teeth in me and now I’m thinking about Harry Potter stuff again. (Speaking of which! Fuck JKR.)

In this AU, he doesn’t ascend with everyone else, but instead ascends later during a whole thing that I will maybe actually write into a fic. Maybe.

Top left is just the first full body Regulus design I did. Dipping my toes in, you could say. Key things; he’s younger in this. Pre-ascension. He’s wearing slytherin’s locket for plot reasons.

Top middle is the Black brothers with their animagus forms behind them. And yes I made regulus’ a lion. Tbh I think he deserves it. He’s dangerous, lazy, proud, sneaky, and at the end he was really, really brave. I know lots of people make him a house cat, but like. If Sirius can have his star’s namesake as an animagus form, so can regulus.

Below that, we have Regulus saying “Potter?” While looking shocked. I won’t elaborate too much on this for plot reasons (in case I write the fic), BUT, this is the moment that he learns that Lily Luna is a Potter.

To the right of that is the brother hanging out and being cute and I love them. I just want them to reconcile and talk and be family again 😭. Also I want Sirius to have 100 little gay pins for his leather jacket. He deserves it.

Bottom left is Lily Luna and Regulus together. I this AU on particular, Regulus has a mentor/mentee and uncle adjacent relationship with her. They are cute, and I love them, and I won’t hear otherwise, sorry not sorry.

Bottom right is the only doodle I will give spoilers for. It’s post-ascension, where Regulus, Sirius, LilyLuna, and Teddy are all about to wreck some shit. The rest of the family jokingly calls them the “Grim Squad”, because all of them go out and hunt down wayward or death cheating souls. So if you see them, you’re their target, and will die. Just like the Grim thing.

Last words

This is a self indulgent au, and idk if I’ll write it, but maybe I’ll elaborate on it more here if anyone is actually interested. Either way, I’m just happy I had the motivation to draw this 😌

#regulus arcturus black #sirius orion black #teddy remus lupin #lily luna potter #fuck jkr #one of these days I’m gonna stop putting my au doodles on one big sheet #that day is not today #will I write the fic? maybe

14 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

#bnha 292 #best jeanist #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #hadou nejire #toogata mirio #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

489 notes · View notes

sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years ago

Text

garden (koh!harry)

Warnings: language

Pairing: king of hell!Harry x angel!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: alright so!! this is an au a friend of mine and I thought of a couple years ago!! basically it’s demon!harry and angel!reader but with the added spice of harry being the king of hell!! the premise for this au is that it’ll kind of be an ongoing series/universe, like the hades!harry au!! so that means I’ll be posting a series of one shots and concepts in a non-chronological order, meaning that each one shot takes place in a different time and in a different order!! I’m really excited to write a series like this, in addition to the long stand-alone fics I do, and I really really hope you guys like it!! the last time I did a shorter one shot, it didn’t really get any feedback, and I thought longer stand-alone fics were the way to go, but I do really miss this format!! so. please. if you like it!! reblog it!! let me know you like it!! and let me know what questions you have about this au!! any concept or blurb ideas or thoughts you have!! I’m very excited for it and I hope you guys are too <3 also I originally wrote this au on my marvel blog last year, and have reworked and revamped it, so if it looks familiar, or sounds familiar, I promise I haven’t plagiarized lmao that was me!!

{masterlist}

When Y/N wakes up, the room is dark.

This, Y/N has come to realize, is normal, considering that the chambers she sleeps in have no windows. While this fact would normally have troubled her, she’s made her peace with it. After all, what is there to see? The palace, located in the center of hell, is surrounded by the flames of the underworld and the souls of the damned, and while neither of those things are a welcoming sight in the morning, they’re especially unwelcome for an angel such as herself. It had taken her so long to adjust to the obsidian stone walls around her, the heavy black and red velvet drapes that lined the frame of her bed, and the smell of sulfur that lingered in the air, even after she had placed herbs and flowers to burn in the fireplace and create a sweet smoke in the air. Truth be told, Y/N still wasn’t completely adjusted to the atmosphere around her, but this, too, doesn’t surprise her. An angel could never truly adjust to being in hell.

A rustling in the bed next to her pulls Y/N from her thoughts, and she lets her gaze shift to the muscled body nestled in the sheets next to her. This, she thinks, is another thing she may never get used to, even though it sparks a burning desire deep within her. While the king of hell may have once frightened you, the sight of him lying next to her brings a feeling of comfort to her, and Y/N allows herself a moment to admire the rarely relaxed state Harry is currently in. His curls, which are normally carefully styled beneath his crown, are tousled from sleep, falling into his face in an endearing way. His face itself is relaxed, the hard creases from the scowl that’s usually permanently etched into his features all but disappeared. The demon is normally a fearsome thing to behold, his power at the forefront of every one of his movements, but seeing him like this…these are some of Y/N’s favourite times.

Thinking him still asleep, Y/N carefully pushes his mussed curls back from his face, her fingers tracing down the line of his jaw. She can feel the stubble that’s unperceivable in the dark, and a soft sigh falls from her lips as she enjoys the rough sensation against her delicate fingers.

“Why are you awake, angel?” Harry’s low voice rumbles deep from his chest, raspy from lack of use. Although his eyes remain closed, his face half pressed into his pillow, Y/N watches him adjust himself in the bed.

“I don’t know.” She whispers back, laying her head back on her own pillow, her gaze still on his body. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“S’alright.” Harry gives a small sigh, opening his eyes just barely. “I was just resting. I’m fine.”

Yes, Y/N thinks, that’s another thing she isn’t quite used to. While her body functions like that of a human, needing sleep every night, breathing oxygen into her lungs, a heart pumping blood through her veins…. Harry doesn’t. It’s rare he sleeps, and even when he does, it’s never for more than a few hours. He had explained to Y/N once how his heart beat so slowly when he was created, and how it stopped completely when he reached full maturity. Although Y/N can see the faint blueish outlines of veins beneath his tattooed skin, she’s not exactly sure what runs through them. Blood seems too common for a being like him. And if he was ever to get hurt, Y/N’s quite certain that he wouldn’t bleed like she would.

The sensation of Harry beginning to play with her hair pulls Y/N from her thoughts. “Why are you awake, hm?” He keeps his voice low, his tone gentle. He’s gotten better at speaking softly for her. “What’s troubling that pretty mind of yours, angel?”

Y/N half shrugs as best she can while laying down. “Nothing. Just…thinking, I suppose.”

Harry quirks up an eyebrow. “Thinking? About what?”

The words hesitate at the edge of Y/N’s mouth before spilling out. “How…I don’t really belong here.”

A deep hum echoes from Harry’s chest as his deep green eyes close again. “’F course you belong here, love. Don’t be silly.”

“I don’t belong here.” Y/N repeats the phrase insistently, her eyes glued to the way his jaw tenses as she says it. “I…I’m not from here.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t belong.” Harry counters, eyes opening once again. They’re darker now, and Y/N can see the stubbornness swirling within them. “I’m the king. I want you here. That means you belong.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip, contemplating the best way to explain herself. “I just…I miss it.” She says finally, her voice small as it slips into the space between them.

Harry’s pink lips pull down into a frown. “Miss what?”

Fingers twisting together, Y/N pauses before answering Harry’s inquiry. “Above.”

“Oh, angel…” Harry sighs again as he shifts his position, pulling her into his marked chest. His strong hands find her back in the darkness, stroking up and down over her cotton nightgown in a soothing manner. “What’s there to miss? Angry people rushing around all the time, destroying their own planet? Destroying themselves along with it? No, you’re much better off down here, with me.”

“There’s plenty to miss.” Y/N counters, pressing her ear into his chest to be greeted with the familiar sound of silence. “The smell of rain, sunshine, flowers growing, birdsongs…” She sighs as she trails off. “And I like people, you know that. They may destroy things, but down here…you destroy things too.”

“Only things that need to be.” Harry argues, his fingers continuing his tracings across her back, barely brushing over the two ridges between her shoulder blades where her wings usually sit. “Souls that deserve punishment, or souls that sold themselves to me. It’s part of the deal, angel.”

“I miss my garden.” Y/N’s voice is barely audible as she grazes her finger over his pentagram necklace. “My rose bushes, my sunflowers…I used to grow berries, too. Strawberries, blueberries…I would make delicious pies and scones…”

“If you truly desire those things,” Harry murmurs slowly, carefully measuring his words. “Then I can get them for you. I can send a demon to the surface for the fruits, and all the ingredients you would need to bake. I’m sure anything you create would taste…” The growing smirk is practically audible in his voice. “Sweet.”

Despite the light warmth that flushes her cheeks, Y/N shakes her head against his chest. “It’s not the same.” She sighs. “I miss the breeze. I miss the ocean. I used to run to the edge of the surf to dip my toes in the water…and I loved going to the beach at night. On clear nights, the moon would reflect on the water like a mirror, two glowing spheres, watching over me…”

“Are you not happy here?” Harry’s voice turns gruffer as he registers the longing in her voice. “You know why going to the surface is dangerous. The angels—”

“Would try to take me back. I know. And I don’t want to go back.” Y/N rubs her hand over Harry’s tensed muscles, trying to soothe him back into a relaxed position. “I just miss it. Isn’t there anything you miss? Anything that causes an ache in you, deep in your chest?” She presses her palm over his stilled heart to emphasize her words.

Harry softens at her touch, relaxing back into the sheets once more. “The only absence that could ever make me ache is yours.” He kisses the top of her head, an action so tender that Y/N almost forgets he’s a demon. “Sleep, angel. Dwelling on these matters will only cause you pain.”

Y/N kisses his collarbones chastely, the curves fitting easily underneath her lips, before settling herself back down and closing her eyes. Although breathing isn’t necessary for Harry, the familiar action soothes her as she listens to his breaths, the sound acting as her own personal ocean as she drifts to sleep.

…

The bed is cold when Y/N wakes up again the next morning, a sign that Harry has been long gone. Given his strange sleep schedule, this isn’t unusual. What is unusual, however, is the carefully folded note sitting on his carefully fluffed pillow. Y/N’s name is on the top of the note, scribbled in Harry’s messy penmanship. Y/N rubs the sleep from her eyes as she picks up the rough paper, a shiver rolling through her as she brings it to her nose. Although there’s the now familiar burn of sulphur initially, underneath sits Harry’s musky cologne, and the faint scent of it is enough to drive her mad.

Before she allows herself to get worked up any more, Y/N carefully unfolds the note, finding more of Harry’s writing on the inside.

Breakfast will be outside today, on the palace grounds.

Y/N frowns in confusion as she reads over the words repeatedly, trying to make sense of them. Harry knows that she hates going outside the palace walls, much preferring to spend her time inside the safety of the obsidian stone structure. Between the anguished sounds of the damned, the burning smell of sulfur, the agonizing heat…Y/N typically avoids the depressing area. However, Y/N has always had a natural curiosity to her, ever since she was created, and she knows that Harry is aware of that, which is why she finds herself making her way to the palace grounds as soon as she’s dressed. Although the idea of going outside leaves a pit in her stomach, she can’t help but wonder what would bring Harry to want to have breakfast outside. And, moreover, Y/N trusts Harry. Despite every one of her natural instincts telling her that a demon is dangerous, and the king of demons is even more so, Harry’s proven to her that he wouldn’t put her in harm’s way.

When Y/N reaches the palace doors, Harry is already waiting there, his arms clasped behind his back. He’s dressed in his usual attire of a suit, but this one is one of Y/N’s favourites. The black fabric is trimmed with red, and a pattern of intricate red and gold stitches decorates the body of the jacket. The pants are tailored to match, fitting his legs perfectly enough that they just brush the top of his black heeled boots. As Y/N’s eyes trail back up, she registers his usual rings on his hands—the silver skull, the ruby, the silver band, the onyx stone—as well as notes that his fingernails have freshly been painted black. His pentagram necklace, she knows, is carefully tucked under his shirt, hidden away between the black fabric and his tattooed chest. There’s a slight smile on his lips as he watches her walk towards him, and a satisfied expression glimmers in his dark green eyes. As he turns his head to the side to regard her, the gold and ruby crown that sits atop his perfectly styled curls catches the low light of the lit sconces around them.

As soon as Y/N is within his reach, Harry extends a ringed hand. “Good morning, angel.” He pulls her close to him, pressing her into his chest. “You look beautiful.”

Although enduring his compliments have become the usual, Y/N still hasn’t quite gotten used to them, and a light blush grows over her cheeks. Despite the embarrassment, Y/N’s glad that his words haven’t triggered the angelic blue light that sometimes radiates from her eyes when she feels something intensely (it had happened once a few weeks ago, and the smug look on Harry’s face had made Y/N swear to herself that she wouldn’t let it happen again). “Thank you, my king.” She holds up the note curiously, gauging the expression on his face. “What’s this?”

“I have a surprise for you.” Harry lowers his voice as he leans down to brush his lips over Y/N’s ear, speaking so only she can hear his throaty words. “And I really think you’ll love it.”

His tone of voice coupled with his breath on her ear makes Y/N shiver involuntarily. “O-okay.”

Judging by the smirk on Harry’s face, Y/N can tell that her reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Come, angel.” Harry tugs lightly on Y/N’s hand as his smirk transforms itself into a more tender grin. “I have something to show you.”

Y/N’s curiosity is what allows her to allow Harry to push the front doors of the palace open and lead her outside. As expected, the moment Y/N steps into the muggy air of hell, her discomfort starts. Each breath seems to catch in her throat, and the very air around them feels as if it’s clinging to her skin, burrowing deep into her pores to start a slow burn. A small sound of discomfort escapes Y/N’s throat against her will, catching Harry’s attention immediately.

“You’re alright, angel.” He assures her instantly, squeezing her warm hand with his own icy fingers. “Come.”

Y/N continues to allow herself to be led by Harry, all of her steps falling slightly behind his own. After a few more minutes pass, she’s about to speak again to ask what exactly is so important for her to see, until she senses a change in the air. The more they walk, the more the burning smell of sulphur disappears from her senses. With relief finally on the horizon, Y/N’s pace finally speed up until she falls into step with Harry, her curiosity growing stronger as her discomfort slips away.

Harry squeezes her hand again, and the simple gesture is almost an encouragement as Y/N’s steps increase again. She begins to pull him behind her, leading the way on instinct alone. There’s an excitement in her curiosity and confusion, and Harry can feel it emanating from her as she gets closer and closer to his surprise. It brings a smile to his face, seeing her like this. Seeing her alive. Seeing her bring life to a place meant for the damned.

When Y/N finally sees the source of the sweet smelling air, she stops in her tracks, her hand moving to clutch Harry’s arm in shock as her mouth falls open. She gasps sharply, so in awe of what’s in front of her that the lack of pain from breathing hell’s hair doesn’t even register in her mind. Her mind has no space for it. All that she can think about is Harry behind her and the garden before her.

This is her surprise. A garden. A real, living, almost seemingly breathing, garden. At least, Y/N thinks it’s a garden. The dry earth beneath her spreads into scorched grass that fades into a delightful green hue, so vibrant that Y/N almost thinks that each blade has been painted with the colour. At the edge of the grass is a large hedge, at least three times as tall as Y/N and double as long. The darker green leaves that make up the wall of nature are dotted with wildflowers, adding pops of white and yellow every few inches. In the very center of the hedge is a large wooden door, built out of dark, sturdy wood studded with shining iron bolts. Although there’s a large wrought-iron knocker in the center of the wood, there’s no handle, and fear of not being able to see inside the magnificent structure seizes Y/N’s body as she turns to look at Harry with questioning and concerned eyes.

Harry seems to read the question in Y/N’s eyes, and the demon steps forward in response. “Here.” He says, taking Y/N’s hand from his arm and pressing it to the door, his own hand cupped over hers protectively. There’s a cadence to his voice that Y/N’s never heard before, and it takes her a moment to register it as excitement as he continues speaking. “It only opens to your touch.”

Y/N feels a shudder underneath her hand, almost as if the wood has registered that the palm pressed against it is her own. The force keeping it closed suddenly fades away, and Y/N easily pushes the large door open to reveal the garden inside.

The crisp and clear scent of fresh air hits Y/N first, almost bowling her over completely. For the first time in a long time, she’s able to inhale deeply and freely, not worrying about what the air around her may do to her body. The high hedge wall, along with the trees that create a canopy over the whole garden, seem to act like a barrier, blocking out the smells and sounds of hell. Y/N can smell various flowers and plants all around her, as well as the wonderfully earthy scent of dirt, and as she gazed around the natural enclosure, all she can hear is—

“Birds!” Y/N gasps in amazement as a small mockingbird lands on a tree branch, chirping happily. Without tearing her gaze away from the small creature, she poses half a question to Harry. “How—?”

Harry, still standing at the edge of the garden after closing the door behind them, knows her question before she even finishes. “I created it for you last night.” He says simply, his green irises glued to her every movement. “After our discussion.”

Y/N turns in a slow circle as she does her best to take in every detail around her. Birds, she realizes, aren’t the only creatures inside the haven; butterflies fly through the air, moving leisurely from flower to flower, and the chittering of squirrels scrambling up and down the trees mixed with the sounds of all the birds hidden in the leaves. A rustling in the bushes catches Y/N’s attention, and she manages to catch a glimpse of the cotton tail of a bunny before it hides under the foliage. A small frown tugs on the corner of her lips as she wonders why the bunnies are hiding away—heavenly beings are usually beloved by any living creatures—but like before, Harry guesses her question before she can ask it.

“They, uh, they don’t like me.” He clears his throat halfway through his sentence, his eyes gauging her reaction to his words. “Living creatures aren’t very fond of demons. Unlike your kind, we don’t smell like sunshine and cotton candy.”

Despite her delight in his gift, Y/N can’t help but roll her eyes a bit at his gentle ribbing. “I don’t smell like sunshine and cotton candy.” She says, reaching out a delicate finger to a butterfly floating near her. The tiny creature lands on her finger easily, without hesitation, and Y/N notices how Harry doesn’t receive the same treatment from the other butterflies in the air. In fact, now that she’s paying attention, she quickly realizes that every living being in the garden around them is steering clear of the king. She can’t quite blame them, she thinks, her eyes flickering over Harry’s closed off posture, dark appearance, and powerful aura. Everything about him radiates the energy of someone who is dangerous. And yet, Y/N’s never felt safer in hell than she does in this moment.

At the thought of safety, a new fear crosses her mind “Are they safe here?” Y/N asks in a hushed voice. “The animals? I don’t want them to get hurt, or…”

“This garden is its own ecosystem.” Harry finally makes his way away from the garden edge, taking Y/N’s hand in a reassuring manner. The butterfly on her finger flutters away as he gets closer, but Y/N’s attention is once again focused on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers on her flushed skin. “As long as they stay in here, they’re safe. I swear it.” Harry says, sincerity clear in his voice.

Y/N’s heart pounds beneath her chest, every once of her senses alight as they bask in the fresh air around her. “Oh, Harry…” Her eyes widen again as she begins to catalogue all the varieties of plants growing around her. Not only were there flowers galore—fragrant roses of all colours, sunflowers taller than her, fragrant lilies, vibrant tulips, bright daffodils—all of her favourites, she notes—but past a grove of trees is— “Are those berries?”

The dimples that Y/N so rarely sees in Harry’s cheeks appear as he smiles at her excitement. “Yes.” He leads her over, his own excitement growing with every step. Y/N notices how he walks with care, making sure not to step on any flora with his heeled boots. It’s strange, seeing the king of hell being so cautious, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

Harry points to the various bushes around them with a painted finger, naming them as he goes. “Strawberries, blueberries…everything you’ve missed. There’s room for you to plant more, as well. If you’d like.” He glances at her for a moment, an unreadable look in his deep green eyes before he turns back to the plants. “And I set up a few stone benches throughout the garden, so you can come sit here when you need a break. There’s one under the willow tree, one by the rose bushes, and one by the—”

“The water.” Y/N whispers, voice barely audible. If Harry was human, he wouldn’t be able to hear the quiet gasp leave her lips. “Harry…”

When Y/N’s hand slowly slips out of Harry’s to walk to the water feature at the edge of the garden, she feels as though she’s in a trance. Perhaps it’s the water itself, she thinks, calling out to her to soak her hell-scorched skin within its cooling depths. Somehow, Harry had managed to make a small waterfall flow down from the top of the hedge into a crystal clear pool, which babbled delightfully with the motion. Although the pool isn’t large, it’s certainly big enough to swim in, and just the very thought of slipping into the water brings a feeling of relief to Y/N. Peering over the edge, she can see a few fish swimming around in the crystal clear water, and a new feeling of gratefulness mixes with the previous.

So entranced in the small pond, Y/N doesn’t even realize that Harry has followed behind her, keeping his distance by a few feet so she can admire the water. “Do you like it?” He asks, the excitement in his voice seeping out in exchange for a nervous and unsure tone. “It’s not…done yet. I just did it quickly, so it—I can still add more, or take out things you don’t like, or—”

“Harry.” Y/N turns to face him with tears in her eyes, a small shake of her head being the only action she’s capable of. “This is…wonderful. I don’t know how to thank you…”

Harry’s own eyes grow softer as he notices the tears welled in Y/N’s lash line, reflecting the light that seems to emanate from her eyes. “You don’t need to thank me.” He keeps his voice low, as if he’s worried speaking loudly will break whatever it is that’s growing between them. “I…I want you to be happy here. I want you to feel like…this is your home.”

“I do.” Y/N promises sincerely, taking both of his hands in hers as she speaks. She kisses his knuckles, her warm lips a contrast against the cold metal and stones of his rings. “Thank you. I truly mean it. Thank you.”

A new look passes through Harry’s eyes, more unreadable than anything Y/N’s ever seen before. His pink lips are just as much a mystery, no expression available on them as he pulls a hand from her grasp in order to cup her cheek. Despite the callouses on his fingers, and the cool temperature of his skin, Y/N leans into his touch, pressing her cheek into his palm.

“You’re welcome.” Harry’s thumb brushes over Y/N’s cheek bone, and the motion is so delicate and tender that Y/N isn’t quite sure what to make of it. “You’re…you’re so very welcome.”

Although he’s giving a polite response to her thanks, Y/N can’t help but feel like something deeper sits underneath the simple phrase as Harry repeats it. She’s welcome. So very welcome. But welcome where? In this garden? Into his life? Into him? The very thought of a double meaning causes her heart to pound, and by the flicker in Harry’s eyes, she knows he can hear it.

The questions bubble to her lips, but catch themselves on the tip of her tongue as her eyes detect a movement in the corner of gaze. The breeze around them (Y/N isn’t sure where the breeze is coming from, but she’s grateful for it nonetheless) move something she hadn’t noticed before. All questions about Harry’s intention fade away as her eyes focus on the sturdy branch of an oak tree, and the carefully woven ropes and wooden seat that hang from it. She drops his hands, stepping out of his grasp and towards the object of her attention. “Is that—is that a swing?”

A light chuckle rolls from Harry’s lips at the awe in her voice. “Yes.” He says, his amusement clear in the word. “Would you like me to push you?”

The offer is so casual, and yet, it brings a sudden shyness to Y/N’s reply. “Only if the king would like to.”

Harry bows his head, his crown sparkling atop his brown curls as he extends a hand. “It would be my honour, angel.”

Y/N matches his smile as she takes his hand once again.

2K notes · View notes

wickedgamesoyaoya · 4 years ago

Text

↝ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: y/n pinning them against a wall - prompt inspired by this twitter post

↝ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: kuroo x f!reader + sakusa x f!reader

↝ ᴡᴄ: kuroo - 1000+ sakusa - 900+

↝ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing, aggressive behaviour-ish.

↝ ᴀ/ɴ: I’ll be doing this prompt for Osamu, Akaashi and Yaku too soon ~ I just like it a bit too much haha. also I edited this 3 times so if there are still errors, I am sorry pls ignore. lmao.

Kuroo Tetsurou

A low rhythmic hum vibrated inside of your throat, to accompany the track playing from your phone. Those who were fortunate enough to catch the melody trailing along with you, would often find a smile on their face. Between the tranquility of the sound and the bliss warping into your aura – your presence accidentally had an impact on many. Those in your university only knew you as the kind singer who would offer sincere smiles, free of cost. It was a reputation you did not mind adhering to – maybe it was better that they did not see the darker shades that coloured your soul. So, generally, a smile would remain sewn into your visage – unwavering until you were within the safety of your home. Where you could release the other parts of you that were deemed “not school friendly.”

Though, today your calculated barrier between the two worlds would disintegrate, due to the careless words of your best friend, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Upon reaching the corner that would connect you to the hallway where your class room was situated, you plucked out an earbud and placed it back into its case. Since this was a course you shared with Kuroo, the two of you held an uncommunicated agreement to wait for the other before entering the room. The thought of your close friend twisted a knot inside of your chest with threads of adoration, excitement and hope. It was quite clear that your relationship was not merely platonic. The issue was that neither of you had initiated the first step to test the boundaries.

But you would try today. You would try after class.

“So, what’s going on between you and l/n?”

Hearing your last name, you paused before switching hallways. How many other l/n’s were at the university? It was certainly a conversation about you.

So the question was, who was the one posing the question, and who was the one about to answer it?

“We’re just friends.”

Okay. Easy. That was Kuroo.

The nonchalance laced into his answer fueled the flame igniting in the pit of your stomach, yet you continued to conceal your presence from the pair.

“So you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

“It’s not my place to say anything.” Even without a visual, you knew your best friend would have added a shrug to accompany the statement. Somehow, that irritated you more.

Rolling your eyes, you stepped past the corner for your grand reveal. “Hi there, boys. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed Tetsurou for a second, would you?”

Your sudden emergence had startled Kuroo, but what had his chest constricting was your use of his first name and the hallow laugh that was spilling from your lips.

“Uh, sure…”

It took you a second to realize who the other male was – he was an acquittance of yours, one you shared two classes with. One who was mostly forgettable not due to a lack of charm, but solely because he wasn’t Kuroo.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Curling your fingers around your best friend’s wrist, you dragged him down the hallway, not caring for the confused glances thrown into your direction by those around you. When you reached the area between the staircase and corridor, you gently pushed him against the wall before placing both of your palms on either side of him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you were quick to drown out his voice with your own.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Just friends? That’s bullshit.” The concoction of emotions weaving into your bloodstream had given you a headrush. But at the center of the varying feelings was fear. Because you wanted more than a friendship, and you were about to risk your entire relationship for that desire. You tried to suppress it, but over time it became overwhelming. And now – his words had awoken something inside of you. Something you could not contain.

The black-haired male blinked down at you, his irises moving from your arms walling him in, to the death glare your eyes were partaking in. “Isn’t that what we are, y/n? Friends?”

Out of the options available to him, Kuroo had selected the one for a coward. Or perhaps, he was testing you. Either way, your irritation with him had increased tenfold.

“Fuck you.” Lowering your hands on either side, you stepped away from him before turning back into the direction of your class.

“I wasn’t done yet.” A sigh left his mouth as he caught your wrist with his hand, tugging you towards him. Once your back aligned with his chest, he repositioned his arms to curl around your stomach. Heat spread throughout your entire body, and you were unsure whether it was from your anger or due to his close proximity. “We are friends, y/n. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be more. You’re right, it is bullshit. But I can’t exactly go around telling everyone in the school that I’m in love with you, now can I?” Feeling you become incredibly still in his arms, he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss against your head. “But if I had known you would get that pissed off so easily, I would have said something stupid earlier. Because pinning me against the wall – that was hot.”

“Shut up.” Breaking away from his hold, you spun around to face him. A half smirk was tugging at his lips, one that communicated how much he enjoyed the situation. “You are horrible. What would you have done if that guy asked me out and I said yes? Hm?”

“I’d probably cry and then say on to the next one!” To further instigate you, he dipped an eyelid into a wink.

“Really. Horrible.” With your passion deflating, exhaustion crept into your muscles, bringing a groan to sound. “Let’s just get to class.”

“Nuh huh. We can ditch one class. Plus, you still haven’t said it back.” Tilting his head, he proceeded a step forward to close the distance once more. He then tapped on your chin, allowing your gazes to connect.

Inhaling a deep breath, a faint smile was presented towards him.

“I love you too, idi-.”

The remaining half of the insult did not leave your mouth, rather it was replaced with a muffled protest as Kuroo gently caught your lips with his. As you tried to break the exchange, he tangled his fingers in your hair, keeping you secure against him, before mumbling.

“That’s boyfriend to you.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi

The repetitive interaction between the laminated flooring and the leather training balls had resulted in a dull ache in your temples. As the manager of a professional volleyball team, you were well accustomed to the noise but today, your patience was running thin. Practice had officially ended two hours ago, and yet your boyfriend, Sakusa Kiyoomi continued fine-tuning his serves. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you scanned the male for any indication of exhaustion – something you would have capitalized on, in order to reason with him. Except the outside hitter’s reserve of energy was far from being depleted. It often surprised you how resilient he was, he certainly did not have Bokuto or Hinata’s stamina, but that did not keep him from pursuing his goals. Whenever he would discover a new technique or target, he would work on it relentlessly. It was an admirable trait, one that made him one of the best players you had ever seen.

And let it be known, supporting him was always your intention. But at the moment, you were passing your own limits and remaining calm and composed was not an option. Between the throbbing on either side of your head and the acids chewing away at your stomach lining from hunger, you were seconds from raiding Bokuto’s secret snack stash.

“Omi, you’re done. Go take a shower.” After swapping your clipboard for a towel, you proceeded across the court, before offering it out to him.

The outside hitter stared at you in response, indicating that he heard your commands but was electing to ignore them. Returning his attention to the volleyball within his grasp, he began prepping for another serve. A sigh mixed with a growl rattled inside of your throat as you twisted the towel in frustration. When the ball landed on the opposite side of the court, an eerie grin stretched onto your mouth.

“Omi. You little shit.”

With each step you took forward, Sakusa intuitively took one step back until his back was met with the padding attached to the wall. You were quite aware of your height difference, although that did not matter. You planted your hands on either side of him, purposefully caging him in. Knitting his brows together, confusion swam in his dark irises.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing? I’m not asking you to finish up. I’m telling you. We finished practice two hours ago, and I am starving. If you do not go into there and take a shower this instant, I will not be responsible for what happens to you. You know what they say – you’re not yourself when you’re hungry.” After gesturing to the locker room with your head, you squinted at him, attempting to seem menacing. However, you were only met with amusement.

“Are you saying you will eat me?” The question had Sakusa battling a smile. Was he really supposed to find that scary?

“We both know someone like you would taste delicious, so I’m not saying that isn’t a possibility.” Maintaining a deadpan expression while spouting nonsense was not a task for the weak – but after having countless conversations with actual idiots, you had mastered it. You would not provide your boyfriend any satisfaction.

“Okay. I’ll go.” His admittance of defeat was joined with the raise of his eyebrow, communicating that he expected you to “release him” now. You were about to comply with the silent request when he dipped down and placed a fleeting kiss onto your mouth. The sudden display of affection had erupted a volcano of butteries inside your stomach.

“What the …”

Leaving you there baffled, the MSBY player slipped past your defenses, smiling to himself.

Two could play at this game.

Later that night:

After gifting you an apology meal at your favourite fast-food joint, you both elected to walk home rather than taking a taxi. His fingers were intertwined with yours loosely, and since the streets were mostly abandoned, he had removed his mask, permitting his lungs unrestricted access to the fresh air. Now that your mood had elevated significantly after satisfying your human needs, you were ready to question your boyfriend on what occurred earlier inside of the arena.

“So, why’d you kiss me?” Kissing was generally an activity he preferred to engage in after showering. And therefore, you were puzzled by his recent actions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shifting his gaze to the row of streetlamps that framed the sidewalk, he lifted his shoulders into a shrug.

“You liked that I threatened you, didn’t you?” A gentle laugh danced past your lips as you shook your head. That seemed to be the only explanation you could think of in the moment.

“No. You looked cute trying to seem scary.” He joined his retort with a scoff, although it was evident, he was suppressing any physical indication of joy.

“I am scary!” Resisting your urge to pout, you squished his hand to reinforce your statement.

“Yeah, sure you are.” Refusing to bestow upon you his full attention, his eyes travelled to the sky above. While he would not vocalize it, he found most of your antics to be ridiculously adorable. It was what he loved about you. And there was no denying that you could certainly scare others when deprived of food – but not him.

“I will eat you. Don’t tempt me.” A small pout forced its way to your lips to display your mild annoyance. Though, the emotion was easily defeated when Sakusa in a quick swoop, stole another kiss. This time, however, he lingered, enjoying the taste of your lips.

It turned out that maybe his rules around kissing required some amending. Because he wanted to kiss you, whether or not some of his pre-conditions were met. Guess that was a consequence of being in love.

Once he pulled away, he exhaled a chortle.

“Yeah? I’m looking forward to it.”

General taglist: @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @elephantloser @dreamstormings @anejuuuuoy @fantasycantasy @aquariarose @bloody-bella

#kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #kuroo tetsuro imagine #sakusa imagines

162 notes · View notes

desertno3 · 4 years ago

Text

everything comes back to you (sean wallace x fem!reader)

Sean Wallace is the love of your life and had been ever since you were both sixteen. This is why, in the aftermath of his father’s murder, you do everything you can to make sure no one lays a hand him.

5.4k words.

A/N: To think this all came from me watching this scene of Joe from Volume (2012) and thought… I need to write about bb Sean. There’s also this post which is mostly what was in my head when I wrote this. Also, I was going to say Sean being soft around the people he loves is my own personal headcanon but like… it is actual canon, lmao. It’s so easy to forget because the man is cold most of the time. Anyway, I clearly have too many thoughts about this character. Enjoy. (also formatting on tumblr is shit so if you want to read this with the formatting I intended, head over here to AO3)

prologue.

“What the hell are you up to?” Sean demands as he watches you bustle around your shared bedroom, effectively turning it upside down as you stuff your belongings into a travel bag.

“Business,” You say, hardly pausing to look at him.

“Business?” He scoffs like he doesn’t believe you. You don’t blame him. Finn died mere days ago and every day since then you’d been acting strange. Between consoling Sean and helping the Wallace family with the funeral arrangements, you’d been answering calls at random hours of the day and going off to meetings even though nearly all business operations under the Wallace Corporation had been halted. Sean had been too caught up in everything to question it but now that you’d just told him that you were flying off to god knows where for alleged business, he was suspicious.

“You know something, don’t you?”

You don’t reply.

“Tell me.”

When you remain silent, you see his jaw clench in anger but that’s not what makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. What gets to you is the hurt you can see in his eyes, hurt that his fiancé of all people is keeping things from him. You know it’s unfair to be doing this to him right now but you had no choice.

You walk up to him, taking his face in your hands.

“You just have to trust me on this, Sean,” You say softly. “Please.”

“I can’t trust anyone right now, y/n.” He says it like a plea. He needs you to be the one person he can trust one hundred percent, wants to be able to put you apart from the rest of the world who seemingly had it out for his family right now. He can’t do that when you’re acting like this.

The statement doesn’t hurt you in the slightest. You understand where he’s coming from, understand why he can’t even trust you, but still, you wish he did.

“You can always trust me,” You tell him but you know it won’t be enough. That’s confirmed when his gaze goes steely and he pries your hands from his cheeks.

“If you step out that door, don’t bother coming home.”

You step back like you’d been burned by the ultimatum. “Sean, don’t-”

He shakes his head.

“Whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s worth it.”

_________________________________________________

one.

“It’s just so annoying, you know?” You huff, falling back onto Sean’s bed and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyelids. You’re sixteen and in the throes of teen angst, irritated by the confines of your parents’ demands regarding what you currently could and couldn’t do at that age.

“Yeah, I know,” Sean replies in solidarity from where he stands near the window.

You let out a sigh, the anger that was bubbling in your chest starting to dissipate now that you’d finished venting about it.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realise Sean has moved from his spot across the room to the bed beside you. The mattress dips a little as he sits and slowly lies back so he’s parallel to you.

You move your hands away from your eyes and your heart jolts when you crane your neck to look at him and realise how close he is.

“Thanks for listening to my ranting,” You murmur, starting to feel guilty that you’d come over to hang out only for it to end up being just him listening to your tirade.

He lets out a small chuckle. “Anytime.”

You smile gratefully, your heart rate accelerating as you continue to stare into his eyes. God, you like him so much. You have for a while now. As he inches closer, and you don’t know whether it’s deliberate on his part or not, you wonder what it would be like if you just kissed him right there.

“Y/n…” He says hesitantly, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second. “Can I-”

“Ooooh, Sean and y/n,” Billy sing-songs obnoxiously from the doorway - the doorway that both you and Sean had forgotten was wide open.

Sean leaps up from the bed and growls at his brother, who continues to tease him unfazed.

“Fuck off, Billy!”

He slams the door shut and everything descends into silence once more. You sit up and watch as Sean remains at the door, his shoulders tense. You get up and make your way over to him, feeling bolder than you ever have in your life.

“Sean,” You say softly, grabbing his attention.

He turns to you, the look in his eyes hesitant, and you use that opportunity to press your lips to his. You pull away just as quickly, gauging his reaction, but then he pulls you towards him again and this time the kiss is deeper, needier. Your hands steady yourself against his chest as his own move up to cup your jaw.

You’re both breathless when you pull away, sporting matching shy smiles as you look at each other.

“I really like you, y/n,” Sean confesses and your heart feels like it could burst.

“I really like you, too, Sean.”

When you and Sean get accepted into different universities, it worries you more than you let on. It would be the furthest away you’d ever lived from him and you were worried about what that meant for you both. You’d spent your last years of high school falling deeper and deeper in love with him and you weren’t ready to let him go. Not now, not ever.

“Hey,” He murmurs, noticing you’d spaced out again. “What’s wrong?”

You shrug it off but he’s not buying it. He shifts on the couch so that he’s sitting facing you and takes your hands in his.

"Talk to me.”

You end up telling him everything. How you don’t like that you’re not going to be able to see him as often as you do now, how you’re worried that the distance might put a strain on the relationship, how you really, really don’t like the idea of breaking up with him.

You half expect him to brush it off or to tell you that you’ve got nothing to worry about but he doesn’t.

“I don’t like it either,” He admits. “It’s going to be awful being so far away from you but it’s only a couple of years, yeah? We can do that. And then I’ll start working for my dad and you’ll start working for some cool startup and we can move into a flat in London. You and me.”

While your boyfriend’s vision of your future together warms your heart, you’re still hung up on the ‘couple of years’ you were going to be a good distance from each other.

“Babe,” He says, bringing your attention back to him. “We’re going to be okay.”

You nod, finally relenting and agreeing with him. There was no point in letting yourself get eaten alive with worry, not when he clearly loved you just as much as you loved him. It was going to be okay.

“I love you,” You tell him and he smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I love you too.”

Sean’s vision of the future wasn’t too far off. You manage to secure a flat just before you both graduate and by the end of the summer, you’d moved in. Sean starts working immediately alongside Alex at the Wallace Corporation and you spend about eight months working for a new tech startup on the other side of London before Finn Wallace offers you a job. It goes over with Sean just as well as you expected it would - which was not well at all.

“Are you really going to throw away everything you’ve worked hard for? To be my dad’s fucking assistant?”

You sigh in exasperation. “I’m not throwing away anything, Sean! Do you think I’m that stupid? I’m going to use more of what I learned at uni as Finn’s assistant than I am now at that fucking sad excuse for startup and you know it!”

Sean knows you’re miserable where you currently work so you don’t know why he’s so against this.

“You don’t want me working with you, is that it?”

He sighs, palms pressing against his eyelids in frustration.

“No,” He says eventually. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I don’t want my dad having a hold on the both of us. You’re supposed to be free from all the Wallace Corporation shit, out doing your own thing.”

Oh.

You step towards him and he instinctively wraps his arms around your waist. You press a light kiss to his lips, your fingers ghosting over the facial hair he had recently started sporting.

“Sorry to tell you this, Sean, but your dad’s had a hold on the both of us the moment we started dating. Maybe even before that. I’m sure if he didn’t approve of me, I would’ve been out of your life a long time ago.”

Sean grumbles at the realisation but he knows it's true.

You lovingly run your thumb over his cheek. "Nothing in London is out of Finn Wallace's reach."

You’re not a fool. You know Finn offered you this job for a very specific reason. If you were going to continue being with Sean, and at this point, everyone knew that was absolutely going to be the case, you were going to have to know how the company worked. And you weren’t against it. If Sean was to be the CEO one day, you refused to be the kind of wife who was oblivious to their husband’s dealings.

Gone is the youthful innocence of the lanky boy you fell in love with when you were sixteen. Sean is filled out and a lot more serious, trying to be more than what he is for his father’s sake. You suppose you're the same, too. It's not easy, being primed to eventually take over a multi-million dollar organisation (connected to an insidious underground one to boot) and Finn put just as much pressure on you as he did his son.

“It’s not my blood,” You mumble when Sean walks into the bathroom to find you soaking in the tub, the water around you a deep red. “Mostly.”

Wordlessly, he comes over and drains it before filling it back up with fresh water. You don’t move as he does so, still shaken and borderline catatonic from having just killed somebody for the first time. Sean doesn’t have to ask, he can just tell that’s what you’ve come back from. As he silently washes the blood from your skin, you look over to see his lips set in a tight line. You know he’s mad. Not at you. At his father, maybe. But there’s nothing he can do now. There’s no going back from this.

Everyone thinks you’re the power couple of the Wallace Corporation, steely and unfeeling, and you suppose in many ways you are but you also know that in other ways, you’re still the teenagers you were before, still completely and utterly smitten with one another.

“Hey,” Sean greets you, kissing your cheek before pulling out a chair and sitting beside you in the empty boardroom.

You look at him in surprise as he starts digging into some pre-packaged salad. “Hi. What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d have lunch with you.”

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“The meeting ran overtime.”

You give him a sympathetic look and he rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. C’mere.”

You shuffle closer to him and let him tuck you under one arm while he forked salad into his mouth with the other.

“What have you been up to, hm?”

You let out an exhale, resting your head against his shoulder. “Meetings, same as you.”

You’re interrupted when Alex pops his head in with an apologetic look on his face, knowing he was disrupting a rare moment between you and Sean. Usually, the both of you would be so busy you’d only see each other in passing at work.

“Finn’s looking for you, y/n,” He tells you before disappearing again.

You sigh, getting up but not before kissing Sean on the cheek.

“I’ll see you at home.”

“Mm, see you.” He mumbles, swallowing his mouthful of salad before his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. “Wait, give me a proper kiss.”

You smile and comply, laughing when Sean pulls you back in for another and another.

“I have to go, Sean!”

“Alright, alright,” He says, letting you go. “I’ll see you later.”

"What's all this?" Sean asks when he comes home one night to find you in the kitchen looking like you’re in the middle of making a more elaborate dinner than usual.

"Just something to celebrate you finishing up that contract," You say, smiling when his arms circle your waist and his lips press a kiss to your cheek. "I was also thinking now that the contract's done, you've got all the time in the world to fuck me."

You all but squeal when he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom without a second thought.

"The food, Sean!"

"The food can wait," He murmurs, dropping you onto the bed. You giggle when he moves to hover above you, his lips brushing against yours. "I've got to take care of my fiancé first."

It’s those memories of your relationship with Sean that flood your mind as you lean against the brick wall of a Soho back alley, the hand pressing against the wound on your side not doing much to stop the blood seeping from your body faster than you would like.

Dread had filled you the moment you heard about Finn’s death and it had less to do with what happened to him and everything to do with the man you were engaged to, the one who was set to take over the company in his father’s wake. Despite Sean being the clear successor to the business, you knew Finn’s death would still leave a power vacuum in both London’s corporate and criminal worlds. You knew people would be out for Sean, trying to off him so that they could step up and take Finn’s place. And so, since the day Finn had died, you’d done everything you could to ensure Sean wouldn’t be harmed. Even after Sean’s heartbreaking ultimatum, you’d left and had been all over the country and London trying to stop the people that needed to be stopped. This last job you’d just carried out would have been it. It would have sealed the deal and would have kept Sean safe for good. Too bad you were probably going to die because of it.

You wince as your back slides further down the wall, your legs giving out and leaving you to drop unceremoniously onto the concrete. Each inhale felt like a billion knives entering your side and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

It was worth it, you think to yourself. It’s the last thought you have before your eyelids get too heavy to keep open, Sean’s last words to you echoing back in your mind. It may have cost you your life but was worth it if it meant you’d just ensured Sean would keep his for a long while.

_________________________________________________

two.

Despite the number of people crammed into your hospital room, the only sound to be heard is the steady beeping of the machines that had been attached to you. It had been a hell of a night for all of them and one that wasn’t over yet. Jacqueline’s frantic call to Sean about seeing you get wheeled into emergency surgery had cut short the tense discussion the Wallaces and Dumanis were having around the dining table. Sean had all but sped to the hospital, everyone else trailing behind him. Despite everything that had just been revealed to him that night, it all became secondary in comparison to the fact that Jacqueline had told him you were practically dying.

Everyone but Sean looks up when Ed steps back into the room, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“That was Jevan,” Ed announces to all of them. “Things have changed.”

“What things?” Marian asks, the tone in her voice still bitter. It’s a wonder neither she nor Sean have kicked the Dumanis out of the room but it was because there was still so much to be discussed - especially now that you were back in the picture and what happened to you remained unclear.

“The investors now want to keep Sean alive.”

A silence settles over the room at Ed’s revelation. It was mere hours ago that Alex had revealed it was the investors who wanted Sean dead.

“She knew,” Sean mutters, finally speaking up. His eyes raking over your nearly-lifeless face as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed and his mind thinks back to the last conversation he had with you. Business, you had told him then. Now, he had no doubt you had something to do with the investors’ most recent decision. “She knew they wanted me dead.”

“How?” It’s Alex who asks, vocalising the same thought Sean had been turning over and over in his mind. “How did she know where to find them? Who to talk to?”

No one has an answer. The machines beep steadily, filling in the silence until Ed sighs, a realisation dawning on him.

“Finn,” He states like that alone makes the answer clear. “She would’ve known through Finn. Think about it. When she was his assistant, he made her go with him to nearly every meeting he had.”

Everyone in the room was aware of the latter, of course. It was part of your job. It had even been a point of contention between Sean and his father at one point, why you were let in on meetings that he should’ve been in on too if he was going to take over the company one day. "She’s just there to make the coffee, son," Finn had laughed but that wasn’t true in the slightest. You were the one who took down the minutes, noted down anything of importance, kept tabs on any and all of Finn’s dealings with everybody. That was your job and through it, you ended up knowing more about the business than anyone else and you didn’t even realise it. You didn’t realise just how much you knew, how much knowledge you could use as leverage, as blackmail, until Sean’s life was on the line.

After Finn died, you did wonder whether he knew what he was setting you up for when he hired you, wondered if he always knew Sean would eventually need protecting and knew that you would do it without hesitation if you had the capability to do so.

It’s Ed, here in the hospital room, who comes to the realisation that he absolutely did.

“She knows more about Finn’s dealings with the investors than all of us in this room combined,” He continues. “Because he never actually needed her to be his assistant. He needed her to be someone who would know how to talk to them. To protect the company and its successor from them if need be.”

“Successor?” Marian asks. “You mean Sean?”

Ed nods and everyone jumps as Sean suddenly throws his fist against the bedside table in anger before whirling on the older man.

“You knew about this,” He seethes. “You knew he was doing this and you just let it happen.”

“I didn’t know this was his reasoning behind it, Sean, I promise you. But it makes sense. As his son, protecting you was a priority. Through her, Finn made sure you’d be kept safe.”

"Fuck that.” Sean spits in anger. “Fuck that. She's a priority too. You hear me? She needs to be kept safe too because if she's not alive I may as well be fucking dead."

_________________________________________________

three.

“I should’ve fucking realised that’s what she was up to. I should’ve fucking known,” Sean mutters as he looks at you, still lying there unconscious. “She risked everything for me.”

“Are you surprised?” Marian asks him. It’s just the two of them in the room now.

She, for one, isn’t surprised in the slightest. Having known you most of your life, she knew you had it in you. Maybe Finn saw that too, since it was what he ended up priming you for.

Sean sighs. He’s not surprised either. What he mostly feels is anger - at his late father for putting you in that position to begin with - and shame. He’s ashamed that while you were bending over backwards to try and keep him alive, he was doing fuck all for you. He'd even broken your fucking heart in the process. He’d regretted it the second you’d left the flat but he couldn’t get into contact with you afterwards. Either you’d changed your number or you weren’t answering his calls. He’d even hired a fucking private investigator to find out where you’d gone and what you were up to but they hadn’t come back with anything solid enough that could lead him to you. It was like you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

"She paid you off,” Sean says bluntly the moment the PI enters the hospital room. It’s not a question. After everything that had surfaced in the last twenty-four hours, it clicked into Sean’s mind the reason the private investigator couldn’t find anything on you.

"She did,” They confirm.

Sean swears under his breath. He curses that fact that you were too good at this and curses the fact that it was probably Finn that taught you how, the same way Finn taught him. He should’ve fought harder to stop you from accepting his dad’s job offer. All those years ago.

“She paid me off,” The PI says. "But that doesn’t mean I didn't do my job."

Sean is handed a folder full of notes on your movements and a flash drive full of photos they’d snapped from a distance.

"You are a very lucky man, Sean Wallace. To have someone like her in your life."

_________________________________________________

four.

To say you’re surprised when you open your eyes to a sterile hospital room is an understatement. You were so sure you had no chance of getting out of that alley alive. Still groggy, you briefly wonder if it was the investors who managed to get you here in time - the strange puppet masters that they were - but your train of thought is halted when you realise Sean’s sister is in the room with you, sitting beside your hospital bed.

“About time you woke up,” Jacqueline says softly, a kind smile on her face. “How’re you feeling?”

Her question brings your attention to the relentless ache you feel all over your body.

“Like shit.”

She hums. “Well, you’re lucky you aren’t dead. You gave us all a scare getting wheeled in here the way you did.”

You shift a little, trying to get yourself in a position that would ease the pain somewhat. “How’s Sean?”

Jacqueline has to stop herself from rolling her eyes because of course that’s what’s on your mind right now. You coming back from the verge of death asking about Sean ran in a similar vein to the way Sean had been adamant about not leaving the hospital since you’d been admitted. Like two peas in a pod, she thinks. Always have been.

“He’s just out in the hall, actually,” She informs you. “On the phone to mum. He’s not going to be pleased he wasn’t here when you woke up.”

“But he’s okay?” You ask her.

“He’s okay.”

You let out the breath you didn’t realise you were holding, your head sinking further into the pillow.

“Good,” You say, shutting your eyes in relief. “That’s good.”

Only a few seconds pass before you hear the door open and shut and a heart-achingly familiar voice break the silence.

“How is she?”

Again, Jacqueline has to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Her brother would always ask that same question every time he returned to the room, no matter if he was gone for an hour or for just a couple of minutes. At least this time, she was glad to give him an answer other than ‘she’s the same as she was when you left’.

“She’s awake.”

Your eyelids flutter open and your heart jumps when your gaze lands on Sean.

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Jacqueline smiles when she looks between her brother and yourself. She comes over and rests her hand on yours. “I’m really glad you’re alive, y/n.”

You give her a grateful smile and watch her leave before your eyes flicker back to the man standing at the door. He looks healthy, you note to yourself. Exhausted, but healthy.

“Sean,” You whisper, breaking the silence.

“Hey,” He says softly, approaching your bedside. You slowly sit up and tears start to pool in your eyes at the sight of him here, so close to you. Safe and alive. He notices and reaches out to wipe away the stray tears that had rolled down your cheeks.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” He murmurs and you have to hold back a sob.

"I did it for you, Sean," You can barely get the sentence out, your voice catching as you start to get choked up by emotion. "Everything I did-"

"I know," He says, cupping your face tenderly. His eyes are glassy too. "I know."

“I couldn’t let them hurt you. I couldn’t-”

You stop as your tears start to flow uncontrollably. You’d kept so much of your emotions at bay as you dealt with everything and now that it was all done, they were spilling over in waves. He gently pulls you into his embrace as you cry, mindful of your injuries. One hand strokes your hair comfortingly as you cling to him, soaking the front of his shirt with your tears. You keep muttering apologies into his chest and he has to tell you to stop because you have nothing to be sorry for. He should be the one apologising, he thinks. No matter what he does for you for the rest of his life nothing would come close enough in magnitude to what you’d just done for him.

You sniffle as your sobs finally start to subside but you don’t let go of him just yet.

“I want to come home, Sean,” You say quietly, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

“You are home,” He assures you, his arms affectionately squeezing you ever so slightly. "You're here with me. You're already home."

_________________________________________________

epilogue.

Sean barely leaves your side while you recover - not for business, not for anything.

“The company needs you, Sean.”

He shakes his head. “Alex has it covered. You need me.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Believe me, I know. But still. In sickness and in health, right?”

You snort. “We’re not married yet.”

His arms wrap around your waist.

“But we will be,” He murmurs. “I would’ve married you a long time ago if I had it my way.”

“My mother would’ve murdered you.”

Sean chuckles, all too aware of it.

It was about a year and a half into your university lives that Sean decided he genuinely wanted to marry you and, of course, he had run it by your mother.

“I’ll give you my blessing, Sean,” She had told him. “But only if you promise me you’ll give it a few years until you propose.”

“Just trust me on this, okay?” She said after Sean had frowned and asked her why. “I know you love her and I know she loves you but there’s no need to rush.”

Sean had agreed reluctantly but now, years later, he understands where she was coming from. At the time, he had naively been sure there was nothing the two of you couldn’t handle. You’d both handled being at different universities so well, after all. Now, he cringes at the fact that that was his metric but he figures he couldn’t blame himself. At that age, he definitely never anticipated having to deal with all the shit life had thrown at you both in the last few months alone. He’s somewhat grateful your mum told him to wait because now, after everything, he’s more sure than he ever was about the fact that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

You’re finally back home, in your own bed, lying on your back because it’s the only comfortable way you can lay down with all your stitches and injuries yet to fully heal. You turn your head to look at Sean and you smile. He’s on his back as well, the both of you craning your necks awkwardly to look at each other.

“What?” He asks.

“This is very familiar.”

He snorts, knowing exactly what you’re referring to. He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you.

“At least this time I’m not scared to do this.”

Your eyelids flutter close as he leans down to press his lips to yours. You reciprocate, leaning up to deepen the kiss before pain shoots up your side, making you hiss.

“Sorry,” He murmurs, pulling away.

“It’s fine, just the stitches.”

His thumb grazes over your cheek. “Rest.”

He smiles at the way you huff. You never did like staying still.

You let out a content sigh, sinking back in your office chair. It had felt like a lifetime since you’d been in here and finally being back felt like you were putting in the final piece in the puzzle. It was the last thing you needed to feel like everything was starting to go back to normal.

A knock on the door grabs your attention, Sean popping in to check on you. “You ready?”

You nod, gingerly getting up and following him to the boardroom for the family meeting.

“So you know Alex and I have been talking,” Sean says to you once everyone had filed in and taken their seats. “About what will be best for the business going forward.”

You nod.

“Things have settled down and we’ve managed to broker temporary agreements with everyone to keep them in line. However, we need to guarantee they won’t act out in the future. So we need someone heading the company who they will listen to, someone who they trust. Alex wants to continue doing the finances and I’m better off sticking to making the buildings so… we were wondering if you would be the CEO.”

Your expression goes slack in shock. “What?”

“We’ve run it by Ed and mum and they agree, too. You’re our best bet.”

You look between everyone in the room, bewildered. “Why?”

“Because you know more about dealing with the investors and shareholders than any of us,” Alex says. “You saw first-hand how Finn did his business with them, something me and Sean rarely did. And they not only know you personally but they trust you, too.”

“Y/n,” Ed pipes up. “Whether he did it deliberately or not, Finn taught you everything he knew about the most important part of running this corporation. Alex knows finance and sales, Sean knows property and asset management but you? He specifically taught you how to bargain. And bargaining and making deals is part of what keeps the Wallace Corporation on top.”

“All our shareholders, the investors, they’ll be okay with this?” You ask.

Ed gives you a look, “You tell us.”

The weight of the responsibility hits you in full force but you’re surprised when you don’t feel scared. You feel sure. They were all right, you’d been doing this already.

You nod. “They will be.”

And it’s not a threat so much as it’s just pure confidence on your part. You knew their strengths, their weaknesses, you knew you would be able to keep them in line with your words, either finding mutual ground or using certain things as leverage to get what the company needed. You could bargain with them the same way you’d bargained for Sean’s life. You could do this.

You meet Sean’s eyes across the boardroom table and he smiles at you, pride blooming in his chest at the thought of his girl, the one he had fallen head-over-heels for at sixteen, being the CEO of his dad’s company. You smile in return. God, you loved him. Your entire world, your whole heart, belonged to him. And his to you. It always had been, and it always would be.

_________________________________________________

End notes: The first kiss setting in one. I took straight from Volume, lol, and then two. is set after that meeting scene at the end of Episode 7 of Gangs but I’ve taken some liberties with that meeting and diverged from canon right before Ed tells them Finn never wanted Sean near the business because Sean’s reaction to that hurts my heart. So that’s not a thing in my fic world. Anyway! Too many thoughts about this show. Let me know if you enjoyed this fic!

#sean wallace x reader #gangs of london fanfiction #*writing #sean wallace #gangs of london #sean wallace fic #sean wallace imagine #gangs of london fic #sean wallace fanfic

222 notes · View notes

tobiosmilktea · 4 years ago

Text

serpentine — kozume kenma

4.2k words | genre/s: fluff | warning/s: cursing | pairing: kenma x f!reader

↪︎ in which nekoma’s new manager captures their setter’s attention

a/n: this was requested by an anon but i accidentally deleted the ask 💀 this wasn’t proofread btw since i’m posting this hella late (atp none of my works are anymore lmao) anyway, the ending is uhh... not good

it takes up to ten seconds for your brain to realize it’s making a decision. you weren’t sure how it all happened considering it didn’t feel like it took ten seconds, and yet somehow, in some way, you agreed to the offer. it was no lingering doubt in your head that you could very well have answered due to the way the third-year manager (all ready to graduate in a few months notice) was looming over you. the look on their face drenched in optimism and a coaxing smile. you liked to think you were a generous person and you couldn’t have possibly said no.

"thank you so much, (y/l/n)!” your upperclassman exclaimed, eyes widening in a bright blithe as they held you at your shoulders and shaking you. “you totally saved my ass getting beat by coach nekomata! see you after school!”

that’s when it dawned at you. were you seriously going to become nekoma’s newest manager for the volleyball club when you had zero knowledge on the sport let alone know how to properly manage a team full of towering individuals? your jaw was basically on the floor as you attempted to plead something back to their current manager, yet nothing was coming out.

you’ve got to be kidding me.

you slumped back at your desk, face still in awe as you couldn’t help but almost felt betrayed by your own selfish mouth that spoke before you could even fathom the task. a sigh escaped you when lunch came to an end and lessons came back in session.

it was no lie that you didn’t really pay attention much in class in the first place. you had a tendency to space out and daydream from time to time with thoughts that serpentine from one idea to the next. however, at one point all you could ever think about was the inevitable doom of having to go to the gym in just a few hours time.

the feeling wasn’t enough to cause an onset sensation of suffocation from nerves, but it was just rather unpleasant knowing that these volleyball jocks would be part of your daily life now.

like a plucked flower petal, your body stood from your seat the moment the final bell rang through the echoing hallways. as if you were moving on autopilot, you hadn’t even noticed how fast you were treading through the hallways. perhaps your nerves were the fuel to your fire as you forced yourself to slow down and mingle into the lightly crowded corridors. perhaps you were glad that your classroom was on the other side of campus from the gymnasium.

you were taking your sweet time and surely they would understand if you were a little late right? granted, it was all too last minute and who knows if you had plans after school or not. spoiler: you didn’t, but that’s beside the point.

at one point, you’ve concluded that you were still walking too fast on your way to the gym despite going at a snail’s pace. it didn’t matter either way as your honey-coated eyes had fallen over the doors of the gym. the right door remained shut while the left was wide open, letting sounds of squeaking sneakers, bouncing white volleyballs, and shouts emitted from the building.

your pace came to a halt just a few feet shy of the door. your hand clutching at your bag’s strap as you waited for a few beats to pass. you weren’t sure what you were waiting for, yet standing there felt like a safer bet more than anything.

“oh there you are, (y/l/n)!” a voice called out to you in the midst of your personal speculation. this forced your attention up to them as you gave them a meek smile. “don’t be shy, come in! let me introduce you to the boys.”

they grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you inside the gym as you shook your head. “uhh, you really don’t have to. i can meet them all later, everyone seems busy right now.”

“don’t be silly!” they wave their hand off like it’s nothing. you follow them to the sidelines of the court, eyes scanning the gym out of instinct—you’ve heard about the many horror stories of those who stopped by and ended up being the target of an oncoming volleyball. a broken nose was definitely the last thing you wanted.

your head turned from watching the volleyball players do their drills as you stopped in front of two bickering individuals. the shorter one with copper brown hair points an accusatory finger at the boy in front of him, the tip of his finger barely reaching the top of the other’s shoulder as he ran a hand through his gray hair. “i swear to god lev, if i hear another word from you i will—”

nekoma’s manager clears their throat.

“oh shit—ha, hey mizuhara.” so that’s their name, you thought. the shorter one greets with a smile, expression all normal as if a complete stranger didn’t just witness him yelling at his teammate.

mizuhara only scoffs, “you’ve always been one for first impressions, yaku, which is why i brought our new manager here in the first place, but i suppose i came at the wrong time.”

“this is our new manager?” the taller one then cuts in, completely pushing away yaku as if his shorter stature weighed like nothing. there was a swift kick in his step as he approached you closer, sticking his hand out for you to shake. man, was this guy tall. “i’m haiba lev, it’s nice to meet you!”

you shook his hand, nodding, “(y/l/n) (y/n).” you introduced before turning towards the poor volleyball player that was pushed out the way.

“yaku morisuke,” he answers without missing a single beat, “i’m nekoma’s libero—”

“that’s why he’s short!” lev interjects and yaku gives him a poisonous look.

you bite back a smile as the libero continues, “don’t be fooled by the height, though, i’m most likely older than you anyway and you look like the type to actually respect your senpais, unlike this guy.” yaku pokes lev.

“are you a third-year?” you ask curiously to which he nods.

“he thinks he can boss me around just because i’m only a first year, but the only one who can give me orders around here is coach and kuroo.” says lev with a smirk that radiated provocation. this seems to be a normal thing between the two of them.

“speaking of which,” mizahara chimed in, head turning towards the courts as your irises scanned for a specific person. “where’s kuroo? i obviously have to introduce our new manager to the team captain.”

“i think he’s still in the locker room talking with the coaches. i’ll go get him,” yaku muttered over his shoulder before walking away.

silence then ensued the trio like a wet blanket, nothing but the lingering sounds of volleyballs thudding against the glazed wooden floors and squealing rubber. everyone in the gym didn’t seem to be too phased by your presence and if they were, they were probably just too preoccupied with their own practice to even spare a single glance.

“so...” lev starts, teetering his weight back and forth as you look up at him. “you’re a second year, right?” you nod, words not wanting to come out. “cool. do you have a boyfriend—or a girlfriend, if that’s what you’re into. i don’t judge!” he laughs then, somehow easing your unease.

“stop asking such personal questions, lev.” a voice calls out from behind him, treading lightly towards you.

the first year shrugs innocently, “i was just curious, cap.”

“yeah, yeah,” kuroo waves him off, “go practice before i double your drills.”

lev nods, “yessir.” before dipping away.

kuroo then gives you a welcoming smile, one that feels quite genuine as his coaches appear behind him. “i’m guessing you’re our new manager in training, right? i’m kuroo if you don’t already know, it’s nice to meet you.”

you introduced yourself yet again, repeating the gesture to coach nakomata and coach naoi. they both radiated a calming, yet serious energy that you weren’t sure to be intimidated by. yet at some point, you shouldn’t even be thinking of such thing considering you would working with them for the rest of the school year and the year after that.

“here, i’ll call the rest of the team over to meet you.” kuroo suggests, his arm already waving everybody down before you could retaliate. “gather ‘round, we have someone you guys have to meet!”

his shout was accompanied by coach nekomata’s shrieking whistle, capturing the attention of the rest of the volleyball team as the sounds of hands impacting the white leather came to a halt.

perhaps that forgotten tingling of nerves had hit you right in the chest like a train the moment all their eyes fell on you. this was not it.

“a girl!” one of them exclaims, hair styled in a strange curly mohawk that charged his way towards you.

“jesus, take it easy yamamoto.” one with a darker complexion and buzzcut says, throwing you a pitiful smile as if to say ‘i’m sorry.’

“sorry, kai...”

you held back a bit of laughter behind your hand.

“everyone, this is (y/l/n) (y/n), she’ll be our team’s new manager.” coach naoi motions towards you, bag strap still clutched within your hands that your knuckles were turning alabaster. “please take care of her well.”

as kuroo opened his mouth to speak, the same one who shouted earlier—yamamoto, you think—cuts in again and says, “are you dating anyone?”

lev laughs from the back of the group, “i already asked her that!”

“but i still want to know!”

“please be respectful or i’m stealing your kneecaps while you sleep.” mizuhara deadpans before motioning for kuroo to speak.

the obsidian-haired captain rolled his eyes in amusement as he began introducing each member of the team one by one, “i don’t want you guys bombarding (y/n), so i’ll introduce you guys myself.” cue yamamoto groaning in disappointment, “the one that keeps asking you such personal questions is yamamoto, our wing spiker.” to which the same man salutes you and gives you a wink. “then there’s kai nobuyuki, our vice-captain. teshiro tamahiko, our pinch server. fukunaga shohei, our other wing spiker. lev and yaku, which you’ve already met. and kozume kenma, our setter.”

your eyes had landed on each and every one of them before abruptly stopping on the last one called. you knew of kenma and his familiar yellow-blond hair. granted, you were in the same year, but he was in a different class and just didn’t really have any interactions besides that one time you two had cleaning duty last year and had to take out the trash together.

the last time you remember him, he was quiet and didn’t speak much, yet there was always a charm within him that had you drawn to him from the start. it was a shame you two never really had a chance to get close.

you wonder if he still remembers you.

meanwhile, the moment your gaze landed upon him, kenma couldn’t help but choke back the rising lump forming in his throat. he surely never thought you two would meet again like this.

the last time he remembers you, you had quite the allure within the way you spoke so nicely. he recalls the way you two first met last year where he offered to take out your trash bag so you wouldn’t have to do work, but you utterly refused. your kind actions stuck with him and despite not being one to talk much in the first place, he couldn’t bring himself to ever speak knowing your lasting presence overran his nerves like a high wire.

kenma’s thoughts are interrupted by a pat on his shoulder, heavy and weighted. his looks over to kuroo’s giving him a sly side-eye as a smirk melted upon his best friend’s visage.

“everyone, go back to practice,” kuroo commands, “mizuhara will take care of the rest.”

a chorus of discernable groans and ‘yessirs’ erupted in the gym as the hoard of volleyball players turned their backs towards you. everything seemed to be back to normal the way the echoing sounds of a run-of-the-mill practice was back in session. and despite the attention no longer being on you (thank goodness), there was still an inkling in your chest of someone’s eyes lingering as you looked back to mizuhara.

“that’s the girl, isn’t it?” whispers kuroo to kenma, practically scaring him out of his unbeknownst trance that was stuck on you.

the setter didn’t answer right away as he twirled the volleyball in his hand, eyes searching the bronze floorboards below him to find an answer he knew he couldn’t find. “it is,” he sighs.

kenma didn’t like lying, anyway.

you weren’t sure how it really happened. you supposed it was just mere fate or purely the universe throwing you a bone that within two weeks of being nekoma’s newest manager, that you would somehow, someway, found yourself glued to kenma’s side for the majority of the day.

it first started off like this: normal. nothing much had changed to your daily school life besides the fact that you stay after school every day for volleyball practice now, but that’s was beside the point. It continued on like this for a few days, until your scanning gaze over the practicing volleyball players almost always ended up stopping on kenma.

it didn’t matter what he was doing at the time whether he was sweating his ass off playing a practice game or simply staying on the sidelines, body hunched over with his dyed hair falling over his face as he played his video game.

unbeknownst to you, though, your stares were everything but discrete. kenma had always been quite skilled at hiding his emotions and looking nonchalant as possible. either that or he just had no filter whatsoever—there was no in between.

at first, the attention would always send his heart spiraling out of control. you were always on the other side of the gym when this happens, and he’s glad for that fact considering you couldn’t have seen the way his hands shivered slightly at the way you looked at him.

don’t even get him started on the way his usual patience ran lower and lower the more his teammates flirted with you. from yamamoto’s blatant disregard of your crystal clear unease to lev’s constant presence around you, had affected kenma more than he had hoped.

god, he hated feeling this way, and yet it was addicting that why you still looked at him regardless.

perhaps it was the only reason why he started reciprocating your sly glances to vie for your attention—granted, he already had it.

the subtle linking of your gazes eventually turned into smiles across the court to kenma finally getting the courage to walk up to you after practice. the sky was dim, shrouded by the last few sunrays of the setting sun as he offered to stay behind to help clean up. usually, he would be one of the first ones to leave the gym with kuroo by his side to walk home, but it didn’t take much for his best friend to know what he was up to.

you were folding up one of the volleyball nets at one end to which the setter reached for the other. he folded along the lines, eventually meeting you halfway to which you could say that’s where it all started.

the blossoming of a new friendship.

something about the way you two complimented each other so much, that the moment you two even started talking, it felt like two old friends reuniting. you felt at home with kenma and he liked being by your side.

you supposed that sensation of familiarity you found in kenma led to your days of shy glances to each other turned into eating lunch together to even walking side by side to practice. you both had a knack for being seen with each other to often, that people started to suspect things. from your classmates to the rest of nekoma’s volleyball team did they tread lightly around the subject. it wasn’t like it was any of their business anyway, but good gossip is always entertaining.

“can you please help me beat this level, kenma?”

“absolutely not,” the setter deadpanned, flicking you a tired look as you two neared the opposing school’s gym.

poor kuroo was third-wheeling a few feet behind you.

the night prior, you and kenma stayed up until the sunlight’s orange hues teased away the shadow of the moon, the quiet night in suburban tokyo was filled with your laughter through your gaming headsets. you two stayed up all night playing video games or simply just talking the night away, bridging over the same gap that had already been filled. surely, it was a terrible idea considering kenma literally had a game the next day, but his only excuse was hanging out with you was much better than wallowing in nervous thoughts, so he digresses.

“why not?” you gasp with offense written over your face as clear as day.

kenma shrugs, “maybe after we win this game, i’ll help you beat it.”

you hum in response, tucking your phone back into your windbreaker as you felt the rush of air-conditioned cold air breeze through your hair. approaching the benches, you quickly greet the opposing team’s manager and coach before situating yourself back to nekoma’s side of the court. mizuhara was already in the process of taking out the empty water bottles and placing them into holders to fill them up.

“i’ll help with that,” you offer as you had already picked up a bottle, but mizuhara waved you away with a smile.

“no, no, i’ll take care of this. you can start telling the boys to get changed and have them gather around coach nekomata.” they say, feet already trailing out towards the water fountains as you nod.

your hand scratched the nape of your neck as you turned towards the boys, mouth opening to speak and yet they seemed to already be one step ahead of you. their red tracksuits were already off and stuffed into the deep ends of their duffle bags—it was obvious with the way their bags bulged from the crammed clothing items.

a sigh leaves your lips, shrugging to yourself as it seemed like there wasn’t much to do when the majority of the things were sorted out already. sitting atop the courtside bench, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, typing in your password as you immediately opened up your game. the real game wasn’t going to be starting for the next ten minutes anyway, surely there was enough time to attempt to beat a level within that time span.

your hands gripped the sides of your phone with eyes focused to each detail the flashing graphics shined upon your face. you were so caught up within your own little world, that the ambient sounds of talking murmurs and approaching footsteps bled together.

kenma clears his throat before dropping onto the bench next to you. he peered over to your screen for a second, almost laughing at how much he had rubbed off on you. he feigned himself from scoffing at the way you hadn’t even acknowledged him, but he couldn’t you. it was technically his fault for introducing you to this game. besides, you looked so adorable with the way you would bite your lip whenever you were at the verge of dying.

you groaned, dropping your arms in defeat as you pouted towards him, “i died again.”

“i can see that,” he amused. rolling your eyes at the look he gave you, you rested your elbows upon your thighs again as you reset the level. however, before you resume on playing, the setter swiftly snatched your phone out of your hand.

for once he had to help you with this one.

“watch and learn, (y/n).”

you huffed at his cockiness, resting your chin upon kenma’s shoulder.

usually, he would find himself tensing at your contact, but lately, he’s been treasuring these little moments with you. kuroo would often catch himself off guard whenever he finds kenma cozying up to you like a kitten. this was definitely not something he would usually do unless of course, it’s for someone he is absolutely in love with. it was obvious the way kenma tried so hard to hide his feelings, yet still failing despite the nonchalant exterior.

if only you two just confessed to each other already, this would’ve been easier on literally everyone here.

kenma seemed pretty confident—so incredibly sure that he would beat this level for you that you couldn’t help but find it the tiniest bit attractive... okay maybe a lot. from the way his fingers intricately worked at the game as if it was second nature. you wondered how in the hell he plays so well, but the hours he puts into gaming was no surprise. within minutes, he had already beat the level.

“holy shit!” you exclaimed in excitement as you pulled yourself off of him, grabbing your phone to look at the ‘VICTORY!’ screen just to make sure it was legit.

the setter couldn’t help but feel the ends of his lips tug into a small smile as he admired the glow in your eyes. he liked it when you looked like this—grinning as if you were an absolute maniac with sugarcoated teeth of saccharine.

you beamed at him, “you’re amazing.”

there is was again, his rapid beating heart causing an avalanche between kenma’s lungs. he couldn’t get used to the way you make him feel. it still felt like the same rising warmth that hugged him like a bear whenever you would praise him or let out a slick laugh. he really liked your laugh. he discovered that about himself the first time he made you giggle over your first discord call together. it sounded like a forgotten epiphany finally finding itself back to him that he wanting to make you laugh again and again. even though the low-quality grain of the microphone, it was enough to ease his yearning to just hold you within his arms.

hearing you laugh over a call was one thing, but it hit differently in real life.

“yeah, right,” kenma scoffs, almost unconvinced. he leans over a bit more, his shoulder touching yours as he tapped a few buttons on your screen. his expression was almost unfazed as you continued staring at him. “you don’t mean that.”

kenma looks back up at you. his lips purse together, forcing the lump forming in his throat when he noticed how close your faces were. his eyes flickered over your features, memorizing them as if this was his last time ever seeing your face. for a brief moment, you felt your heart stop again and again. it punched against your ribcage with such brutal force, you swore kenma could’ve heard it.

you chuckled nervously, taking a deep breath as the words spilled out of your mouth. “i don’t lie to people i have feelings for.”

it ended up being softer than you thought it was. you supposed it was the way you were so careful to approach kenma’s lips, slowly and gently, just in case he wanted to pull away. in fact, you did expect him to pull away no matter embarrassing it may have been. there was such a pouring downfall within you that maybe you were okay with that possibility of him rejecting your kiss if it meant that there was a chance he might return it.

his lips were like velvet when he kissed you softly. even if it was a brief moment of vulnerability, you were both aware of how inappropriate it was to kiss not only your closest friend, but a member of your team just minutes before a game.

you pulled away then, hands slapping over your cheeks to hide the crimson red blush that suspended itself all the way up to your ears. kenma looked just the same, but he simply looked away.

you prayed that the rest of the guys did see—but they did.

kuroo saw it first, having to do a double-take the moment you pulled away from kenma. honestly, no one would’ve noticed if yamamoto’s loud ass shout didn’t echo throughout the gymnasium. as if your sudden humiliation moved like a domino-effect, jumping from one person to another.

you pushed yourself off the bench, hoping your hair would cover your tomato-colored face as you excused yourself to the bathroom.

right as your figure left the gym, the boys immediately ran towards kenma, still in a dazed state. the poor setter’s lips still buzzed from the kiss no matter how short it was. it still sent flickers of electricity through him as kai shook his shoulder.

“since when were you and (y/n) a thing?” he questioned quite loudly.

he acted as if kenma even knew the answer to that. if anything, he was just glad that he was saved by the buzzer as the game was to start. he let out a sigh as he scanned all of his teammate’s expressions, pushing himself off the bench. “don’t look at me like that.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma scenarios #kenma imagines #kenma oneshot #kenma fluff #hq kenma

347 notes · View notes