#Was never gotta be a right time but he was gotta tell the moment Kyle came back to understand cause Kyle is smart and confident and brave

[ladychandraofthemoone]

That one Twitter Meme from Mhyuo but with Stankyle/OrangeChai: What do you meant this isn’t what happened? Kyle was totally Stanley’s very first crush & bi awakening even though he was unaware but he shook enough to drop his cigarette Kyle’s driver gave him-btw.

Flagless/Non Blurry Ver & Longer Explanation Below:

Wdym that you were only a year old after gaining your first crush after being immediately sent overseas and staying in the workshops in Europe for a month and then you met this cool engine while working on the front who’s a couple of months older than you yet already had crow’s feet’s and eyebags but the biggest smile and he had more experience who then takes you underneath his wing and taught you everything he knew and he didn’t get mad at you even you made mistakes that you couldn’t help yourself that you end up being labeled as a jinx and derailed every single day unlike the others including him who was considered to be “lucky” but he gives you advice, defends you and keeps you company and you didn’t even know what exactly love is until it was explained to you but you still had a vague perception on it until you come to this realization when you constantly think of him and his smile and his attempts to cheer you up and makes you laugh you love hearing him laugh and just around him ..

Yeah that couldn’t be me.

#ttte #ttte stanley #rws stanley #rws #the railway series #ttte proteus #proteus #kyle proteus #ttte shipping #my art #my art <3 #my art stuff #Kyle is like a few months older than stan but like he’s secretly tired and jaded but covers it up with bright optimism and cheerfulness cau #Realizes that a majority of the folks here were barely young adults they’re just children even him technically but he’s does his best #does he make mistakes yes but he tries so hard even though he’s genuinely a happy dude and maybe that why Stan fell for him Kyle stood up #cause benson is a jerk though I can see why and Stanley was general avoided like the plague and ignored by a majority (except for a certain #Hatt member but like Stanley overhears what’s it like to love from folks talking and is like “is this what this feels like do I like him or #Gosh I just got so many thoughts on them and how Stan never got to confess on Kyle what he felt about him cause the whole situations there #Was never gotta be a right time but he was gotta tell the moment Kyle came back to understand cause Kyle is smart and confident and brave #he knew everything about any topic but like he didn’t come back his luck just wasn’t enough to save/protect Kyle :( and gosh they make me #want to tear up like Stanley finally gets a safe space to figure his thoughts and emotions out but will never actually tell Kyle how he fel

[hunnysnoops]

Main Three + Craig with morbid/odd reader

“I want love to change my friends to enemies and tell me how it’s all my fault.”

Stan:

He lets you draw on him but instead of doodling you take a black marker and start to meticulously draw dotted lines and arrows like you’re a surgeon prepping him for cosmetic surgery.

While helping him with farm chores you go into detail about how you can compost and break down a corpse in soil, he just kinda nods along.

You give him tarot readings every week. He thought they were fake and just did it to entertain you until his week played out exactly like you said it would. When he realized he just froze up and went non verbal.

Stan- “Hey, do you have any spells to curse my dad?”

Met him when he was in his goth era.

The two of you were having a moment in the rain when you told him that he should’ve worn shoes with rubber soles in case he gets struck by lightning.

You started writing his eulogy when you were laying in bed together, bro was trying not to freak out. Just spam texted Kyle.

You’re date idea is taking him to an abandoned house.

You guys bonded over music. Now you help him write songs since you’re so used to writing poetry.

Reader- “You’re into music?”

Stan- “Yeah, I guess so.”

Reader- “Have you heard Carnival of the Animals, R. 125: Aquarium composed by Camille Saint-Saëns and performed by Philippe Entremont, Gaby Casadesus, and Yo-Yo Ma?”

Stan- “Can’t say I have.”

Kyle:

Has veiny arms so when the two of you are just chilling you’ll put your finger on one of the veins and start talking about what would happen if you severed it. He’s lowkey interested from a scientific standpoint.

You’ll straddle his hips and pull his lips back to look at his teeth, poking around in his mouth like a dentist. You’re inches apart.

Reader- “Wow, you have beautiful teeth.”

Kyle- “Thank you?”

He’s kinda fascinated by you but also repulsed by some of the things you do/say.

He came to your house and you were butchering your own meat, left right away.

You listen to The Cure together.

When you climb trees to look for birds and squirrels he’ll climb too to help you.

Will get mad annoyed after listening to you say incredibly out of pocket things while he’s trying to focus on something.

He’ll buy you little knickknacks that remind him of you.

Before he got to know you, he talked mad shit.

Sometimes gets super freaked out by your behaviour, you straight up give him the heebie-jeebies.

Reader- “So this is my collection of human teeth.”

Kyle- “All of those are yours, right?”

Reader- “Actually, none of them are mine.” 😁

Kyle- 😨

Kenny:

Sits through horror movies and weird foreign films with you. He didn’t like it at first but he came around and started sourcing out movies he’d think you like.

You took him to a Wicca ceremony and he had the time of his life.

You taught him how to make flower crowns and now he makes them all the time. He likes to give them to Karen.

When he sees something off-putting or creepy he will immediately take a picture and send it to you.

Reader- “Hey, it’s raining. Do you want to go look for earth worms and build a worm colosseum?”

Kenny- “Hell yeah.”

He likes to go for walks in the forest with you, you guys will look for bugs and pick them up or make them houses of leaves and twigs.

He’ll help you wash the skulls/bones you find.

Never really minded that you were weird, he approached you first because he thought you were hot.

He loves when you play with his hair and tie little braids into it.

You guys tried to recreate The Blair Witch Project but failed miserably when you actually got lost in the woods.

You’ll meet up at the graveyard and just sit in the grass while you talk about ghosts and ghouls. Sometimes you’ll walk around and stop at a specific grave and guess how they died.

Reader- “Would you rather be in Cannibal Holocaust or The Poughkeepsie Tapes?”

Kenny- “Erm, I gotta pick The Poughkeepsie Tapes.”

Craig:

Generally goes along with whatever you want to do.

Reader- “Can we go down to the riverbank to pickup fish heads and then eat out their eyes?”

Craig- “Yeah, sure.”

He’ll just watch you roll around in the mud or set little twig piles on fire, he won’t join in but he also won’t interfere.

You’ll talk to Stripe, not in the baby voice that people usually use to talk to animals but your tone will be dead serious like you’re talking to a grown adult.

The two of you will watch true crime documentaries together.

He’ll fuck up anyone who calls you weird or a freak.

When you’re out in public, you’ll point someone out and predict how they’re going to die.

There’s nothing you can do that’ll shock him, he’s unfazed by everything that you say.

Sometimes gets concerned with you around Stripe.

You’ll disappear for hours at a time and he’ll get worried, sending you a million texts then you’ll randomly show up at his door soaking wet or covered in dirt with no warning.

Craig- “Where have you been? You weren’t answering my texts.”

Reader- “I was meeting with a friend of mine who is alive.”

Craig- “Oh, that’s cool.”

Requests are open! I’m working through a couple right now. Thanks to the anon who requested this.

#kyle broflovski #kyle south park #south park #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #south park x reader #south park x y/n #stan marsh #craig tucker #sp craig #craig tucker x reader #stan marsh x reader #kenny mcormick x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #sp kyle #south park hcs #south park headcanons

[kyuteflesh]

kyle “gaz” garrick / f!reader

﹒⪩⪨﹒ ﹒⪩⪨﹒ ﹒⪩⪨﹒

anotha one (much love to everyone who supported my last post 🫶🫶 ur the best). not the greatest i could’ve done, less serious this time, experimenting, barely proofread, just writing to cope. enjoy :p

more plot than porn tbh, +18

141 was finally home after what felt like an eternity.

you were close with all of the members but one: kyle garrick, otherwise known as gaz.

every time you all had plans together, garrick would be the first to tap out within an hour. tonight was the night you would figure out why.

“i have a question.” you announced, downing your second shot of tequila

“ohhh! getting serious now, are we lass?” soap exclaimed, nudging ghost who in return gave him a pinch on the arm. you could only purse your lips at him.

“go on. we’re all ears.” price replied. soap and ghost crowded next to him.

“how come whenever we go out, kyle never comes? am i that much of a dick repellent??” you huffed.

soap coughed up his drink. “far from it. honestly, he just has a wee bit of a problem.”

you weren’t sure whether you should’ve been offended or not by what he said. “and what in the hell does that mean?!”

“we all agree that you’re the bonniest l—“ johnny started, only for price to quickly cut him off in attempts to deflect the attention away from them.

“garrick fancies you very much!!” there was no way in hell he was gonna let a drunken soap spoil what they talk about when you’re not around.

…………..

“in what way???” you were flabbergasted to say the least.

“way to go, captain.” ghost grumbled, facepalming in the process.

“he told us that you were so attractive it was intimidating to him. he doesn’t wanna mess anything up, so he refrains from overstaying his welcome.” price chuckled between air-quotations.

johnny was having a blast, cackling and slapping his knee. “LORD HAVE MERCY! THAT IS THE HEADLINER OF THE CENTURY.”

several drinks later, you found yourself staying in a hotel room with the group. nothing going on besides friendly banter.

simon’s phone buzzed and everyone turned to him. “who is it? some girl from the bar?” soap grinned sheepishly. “would you shut the hell up for once? it’s garrick, said he’s about to be here.”

“about time that man shows up!” price and mactavish silently cheered together.

… so many thoughts in your brain right now. how were you going to act after finding out hes been crushing on you for how many years now??? you weren’t sure if you could deal with the anxiety of presenting yourself in this state.

that’s when you heard a knock on the door.

“well would you look at that..”

“that’s our cue, gotta go!”

“sorry l/n…”

and with that, simon opened the door for gaz, and the rest of them swiftly escaped. literally no time to process anything.

you looked up at kyle. “are they coming back?”

he shook his head and took a deep sigh.

“no, they aren’t.. i rented this room for us.”

flabbergasted x2. and he could tell.

“i know i’m practically a stranger to you, i apologize. however, i’m determined to change that.”

he’s not a stranger to you. you know tons about him due to soaps big mouth, and the times where he would barely speak– because other little fun facts got tacked on from there by the group messing with him.

honestly, that’s what draws you to him.

you weren’t gonna say that. you haven’t said anything.

he sat down next to you, taking yet another deep sigh.

“i don’t want you to think i dislike you, and i’m sorry if i made it seem that way. i really like you y/n, and i just never knew how to go about dealing with these feelings. i thought they would go away if i distanced myself but t—“ you pressed your lips to his. kyle’s eyes widened, but he promptly snapped out of it.

he wasn’t about to fumble a second time. he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

it didn’t take long for it to turn into a heated make out sesh.

he put his hand on the back of your head, gently weighing you down to the bed. he was on top of you, kissing down your neck.

gaz parted away from you for air. “is this ok?” he asked, toying with the bottom of your shirt. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.

“of course it’s ok. you can do whatever you want with me.” you giggled.

he slipped a hand up your shirt, caressing every inch possible. “these already feel so nice. i wanna see them bare.”

your face turned a light shade of pink, “you first.”

gaz took his shirt off without any further hesitation. he wasn’t the bulkiest of the group, but he still had a nice, toned figure.

that was enough to really get you going. you followed along, straight to the point too considering you removed your bra prior to his arrival.

“bloody hell.” he leaned his head into your chest.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing at all. you’re absolutely breathtaking.”

(SO INTO BODY WORSHIP CHANGE MY MIIINNDDDDDDDDDDDDAGHHH) gaz wasted no time sucking and kissing on your tits. his hands were wandering for a good minute before he started to travel towards the burning heat between your legs.

after finally getting your skirt and panties off, gaz took a moment to admire his prize. “such a pretty fuckin pussy.”

he started to gently massage your clit, gathering your slick to help. “all of this for me? i’m truly honored.”

“hush up already and do somethinggg.” you begged.

“aw, needy all of a sudden? where’v you been keeping it all this time?” he began to stick two fingers inside of you. “whatever you say, luv.”

he was eating you out while making sure your hole got attention too. curling his fingers, going at a generous pace. “you taste so good. need your mouth on my dick at the same time.”

kyle laid down, and you got on top of him nearing his cock. he started to lap at your cunt again, returning to his previous tempo as his digits pumped in and out.

you squeaked, starting to work his dick with your hand. you took the tip into your mouth, licking the mess of precum that was left because of for you.

as much as you’d rather have his dick inside your pussy, something about the both of you being pleasured orally was insanely hot. enough to help your climax build.

“more, please.”

“more what?”

“add more fingers. i need it, please kyle.”

practically fisting you, he had four fingers inside you now (rookie numbers tbh). you on the other hand, were gagging on his dick. you could feel it twitch with every gurgled moan you let out.

“i’m gonna cum” he choked out. this man is one hell of a trooper. a munch if you would.

“i wanna cum on your tits. just need you to finish first.” he flipped you over, back on top of you. two fingers this time, but it was enough.

“right there. don’t stop-!” you were struggling with words. squeezing his free hand. so focused on the intense feeling you didn’t care about who could’ve been hearing you.

you finally let yourself go. face glazed with sweat and spit. kyles was 10 times worse. hot tho.

kyle was eager to cum. after giving your pussy a final kiss, he started to work on his own release.

hovering over you, he continued to jerk himself off. you pushed your boobs together, anticipating the sticky coating. he groaned in response, getting shakier by the second. without any word, he finished all over your chest.

“have you gotten over your little crush yet?”

“for fucks sake. definitely not.”

#cod mw2 smut #cod mwii smut #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick smut #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz smut #gaz x reader #cod smut #kyle garrick smut

[gabigabigabby]

pretty boy | p. foden

phil foden x de bruyne!reader

a/n: okay so i dreamt this and i woke up and was like how could i have done that to phil?!. i love this man so much 😭 enjoy! 🩵

synopsis: city win the fa cup and you hug julian a liiiiittle bit too long for your boyfriend's liking

content/warnings: very fluffy (maybe a tiny bit angsty), angsty phil, jealousy, phil and julian basically despise each other in this

—

the whistle is blown and you couldn't help but break down in the vip box with kevin's wife. man city are the fa cup winners. you and michele both knew how hard kevin and the squad had worked to get to this point. two finals and one is over, a happy ending for the club.

"go down there!" michele had pushed you to go and congratulate the guys. you ask her to tag along. "i'll be right behind you."

you nod and leave michele to deal with mason, rome and suri. you bring yourself straight to phil, whose feelings were the only thing you could think of throughout the entire game. phil came on for your brother at the 76th minute and played like the boss that he is.

as soon as you step foot onto the pitch, phil is nowhere to be seen, kevin too. they went to the bathroom, maybe, you thought. you head straight for ruben and kyle, congratulating them with big hugs.

you were grateful to be able to get to share this moment with the guys. they truly are the brothers you never had, besides kev, of course. back in belgium, you were raised to be kind, loving and warm. it explains why you are so adamant about giving every single guy in the squad a big hug. kevin was raised slightly differently, but you grew up giving him big hugs too.

you moved from player to player; manuel, john, rodri, ilkay, bernardo, jack and erling. when it came to julian, you didn't just embrace him and pull away quicker than the speed of light. you had been watching julian ever since his days at river plate, and you had been a fan since discovering him at the last copa america. you considered julian to be your best friend in the squad, besides phil and kevin.

your subconscious seems to tell you to hold on to julian a little bit longer, noticing that you find genuine comfort in his warmth. julian didn't seem to want to pull away either, so the both of you stayed that way for a few minutes.

if only you'd forced yourself to pull away from julian earlier, because you had noticed phil coming into the middle of the pitch. he had stopped in his tracks after seeing the sight of you and julian in a tight embrace.

as you pull away, phil's already treading back towards the wembley tunnel. by then, most of the guys have already made their way back to the locker room to freshen up.

"sorry j, i gotta go. congratulations again." your hands that were on his shoulders make their way to his cheeks, lightly slapping them before making a beeline for the tunnel, hoping you'd catch phil before he gets to the locker room.

you'd always get yourself lost looking for the locker rooms here at the wembley. this time, kevin was your landmark. "hey!" he blurts out after your body collides into his. "you see a ghost or something?"

"sorry. i'm looking for phil. you seen him?" your belgian accent always makes itself known everytime you get nervous. it'd been that way since you were young. kevin noticed it.

"foden? yeah, he's in there sulking," he points to the room behind him. "your belgian accent is showing. what'd you do, y/n? the man never broods like that."

you were hesitant to tell kevin, but he kept pushing you to. "i hugged julian a little bit too long."

kevin has that that explains why look on his face now. "no wonder he keeps staring at julian's locker like that!" kevin says. "please talk to the man. i have no energy and time to deal with conflict right now." he instructs, walking away as you rush into the room.

most of the guys had already began drinking, some were already in their briefs. "nothing i haven't seen before." you mutter to yourself. you scan the room, looking for phil. the boy is sitting in the corner, bent over, looking downward at the big man city crest in the middle of the room.

you rush towards phil, falling onto your knees before him. the latter wouldn't look at you. "phil, i can explain. please look at me." you beg.

"so now you suddenly like julian like that?" phil asks, monotony laced quite thick in his tone. your brows pull together in guilt and regret, hurt that he would even think that way.

"of course not," your hands find themselves on his thighs. he didn't fight it though. "he has emilia."

"exactly," phil's eyes finally find yours. "so why you huggin' him like that?" his mancunian accent is more prominent than ever.

you start to stutter, which made phil scoff and lick his lips, amused at the fact that you couldn't even find the right words to say. "baby, i was just congratulating him. i'm so proud of you guys, truly."

phil shakes his head, not fully buying whatever you're selling him. "so why didn't you come to me first? you're gonna tell me you didn't see me with kevin?"

"i didn't even see kevin in the first place. and you know i never congratulate my brother in the open like that. my ego's too damn big." you explain, dropping your hands from phil's thighs, knowing well that he knew it too.

phil tilts his head to his left. "yeah," he agrees. "the ego in you belgian people."

"mean." kevin interferes from behind you.

you and phil ignore your brother's retort as you bring your hand back up to touch his knee. "phil, i'm sorry. you should've been the first person i ran to. please don't be upset anymore. i promise you that from now on, you will be the only person i'll congratulate."

you push yourself up, kissing his left cheek, right cheek, left then right again, ending off with a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. it was a gesture you'd learned from kevin when you were younger. "please smile."

the smile phil forced out was fake and you knew it, you just didn't want to push him. "pretty boy. love you always."

"hey, you congratulate me too, yeah?" kevin interferes once again, pointing his thumb at himself.

"shut up kev." you roll your eyes, not even bothering to turn to look at your brother.

"you promise?" phil finally speaks. you raise your brows. "you promise i'll be the first you run to after a game?"

you slowly smile. "i promise as if it's my last, philippa," you call him by your special nickname for him. "now will you please stop brooding? kev said he doesn't want to see angry cute guys in this locker room or he'll fall in love."

"i never said that, y/n!" kevin quickly fights back. "i don't think you're cute like that, phil. like, you're good-looking and all, b-but you're not my type, you know- I'M MARRIED!"

"we know, dude. calm your tits down." you scoff at his explosive tendency to keep defending himself when he knows it isn't working.

phil takes your hand away from his knee, rubbing the pad of his thumb across your knuckles. that is one of the many signs phil gives that means we're all good now. "y'all done fighting?" jack calls out to you and phil from across the room. phil's eyes and your head dart towards him.

"i'm getting chinese if you adorable kids want some." he offers, about to head out the door.

"chinese sounds good." phil shrugs.

"fine by me," you shrug. grabbing your hand, phil grabs his backpack and pulls you along behind him as you hear jack singing his chinese takeout jive. "jack, stop singing that shit."

#phil foden #phil foden x reader #phil foden x you #phil foden x y/n #football #football x reader #football x y/n #football x you #manchester city #premier league #english football

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

A Shade of Gray: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: Your abilities are put to the test when you have to gather evidence based on what your psyche is telling you. Hotch believes in you, and that’s the only thing that matters.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

Bill, Emily, and Derek head to the woods where the other two bodies were found while Rossi takes Rollins back to the station with the bag of toys. If the parents of the victims can point out their son's toys, then it would help Rollins' case. However, only the first two families could. Sarah and Dan didn't find a single item belonging to Kyle.

Rossi keeps your words in mind when he questions him, and it seems like Rollins is a little too eager to give the information up. Almost like he's just telling Rossi what he wants to hear. He doesn't want to go to a certain prison because he knows what they do to child molesters. The DA might make the deal only if he gives the location to Kyle, which he does.

Derek, Emily, Rossi, and Bill arrive at the spot where the other two boys were found right after you and Spencer got there.

"What if he went further south?" Bill asks, causing you to look up from your phone.

"Why/"

"There's a service road down that way. It's not marked, but it would have been his fastest way in and out of here."

"Well, we know Rollins didn't spend a lot of time with Kyle." The group notices you and Spencer when they get down to the spot where you're at. "Hey, did you find anything?"

"No. I thought it'd best to come check out the dumpsite," you lie. Spencer knows you don't want Bill overhearing all of this which is why he keeps his mouth shut. "Where were the first two bodies found?"

"The first boy was found up the hill and the other one was found a few yards down the hill. We're in the middle of both dumpsites."

The wind softly blows through the trees and pushes your hair back, and something tells you to look to the right. Kyle is standing there in his pajamas standing between two trees. He turns and heads down the mountain, and you immediately follow him.

"Where are you going?" Bill asks.

"I see something over here."

Kyle leads you through the trees like a maze until you can see the same colored pajamas on the ground. Kyle mists away after having found peace knowing he is going to get justice. Kyle is lying on the ground neatly with his arms crossed over his chest. This isn't consistent with the first two murders because Rollins never killed Kyle.

"Guys! I found Kyle!"

"Oh God, that's him. That's Kyle," Bill says from behind you. "I gotta call Dan and Sarah."

"We saw the pictures. He dumped the first two boys like garbage. This is different. Do you think Rollins started feeling guilt or remorse?"

"It's not Rollins," you say once Bill leaves to call Kyle's parents. "I found a lot of evidence back at their house. I don't want Bill to know until Rossi and Hotch do."

"Then let's go."

As soon as the local police come to section off the dumpsite, you head back to the police station with everyone else to join the other half of your team. Bill came back with you to take a moment in his office, giving you the opportunity to tell your team what you've got.

"I just talked to Rollins. He said he dumped Kyle's body in the river. He's clearly lying. He doesn't have any connection to that boy," Hotch says.

Penelope calls you on your phone, and you place her on speakerphone for everyone to hear.

"What's up, Pen?"

"I found something on the footage you sent me."

"What footage?" Hotch asks.

"So, Spencer and I compared the bedrooms of all three boys, and it looks like Kyle's room was staged to look like there was a struggle. We found both beds in Danny's bunk bed to have been slept in, and the bottom one had a wet spot with Kyle's teddy bear over it. Dan had busted knuckles, and while he told me he got that at the gym, I thought about the broken window in the basement." There is a box within the evidence you've collected and notice the pieces of the broken window. "Great! They came in. I bet if you put the pieces together, there will be one missing because it'll have Dan's blood on it. This doesn't prove that Danny killed his brother, but someone in that family did, and Bill knows about it."

"We talked to the neighbor who has a camera pointed to her flower bed in the front. At first, there was nothing in the footage so we sent it to Garcia for further analysis. Garcia?"

"Yes, boy wonder, I thought there was nothing in the beginning until I found something odd. It's a loop. I was able to remove the loop to see the video underneath since that lady clearly doesn't know what she's doing with a computer. This is what it shows."

Penelope sends the video to you and you put it on the laptop for everyone to see. The camera placement isn't fully on the Murphy house but it's enough to see what's going on. Early in the morning of Kyle's death shows Bill approaches the house. His car blocks part of the house but doesn't block when he's carrying something in a large rug. There is clearly something inside wrapped inside of it but you can't see what.

"Is this enough evidence?" you ask Hotch.

"Plenty. Garica, see what else you can find out about Lancaster that we don't already know. Reid and Prentiss, watch the press conference and see if you can find anything. You know where we stand. Please be discreet. Y/N, a word, please."

You and Hotch go off to the side while everyone else gets to work.

"Did I choke you?" you chuckle nervously.

"You took real initiative today. I'm proud of you." A big smile spreads across your face. "You were a leader today. Keep up the good work."

"Yes, sir," you grin.

"You gathered the evidence. What do you want to do now?"

"Go talk to the Murphys."

"Lead the way."

You and Hotch go alone to the Murphy house to keep the agents to a minimum. When Dan answers the door, you expect him to have red eyes and a swollen face from crying. He has tears in his eyes but it looks like he forced them to come out just minutes before your arrival.

"Listen, I appreciate you coming by, but Bill was already here. He told us about Kyle."

"That's not why we're here, Mr. Murphy. We need to talk."

"Can it wait? Danny's not taking the news too well."

"No, it can't. We need to talk right now. Hugh Rollins didn't kill your son."

"If he didn't, then who did?"

"You tell me," you say simply.

"Someone broke into my house and took my boy. When I woke up, he was gone."

"Who did this, Dan?"

"I don't know!" he yells a bit too loudly. "My little boy is dead, and you have a suspect in custody. Isn't that good enough?"

He really wants it to be Rollin because he can't handle the thought of himself or his son doing this to Kyle.

"You see the neighbor across the street?"

"What about her?"

"Did you know she has a camera pointing toward your house?" Dan's face completely pales at your words. "Now, would you like to tell me what happened last night? Or do you want to watch what happened last night?" Dan can't speak even if he wanted to. "Did you or Sarah get upset with Kyle?"

"No!"

"Was there an accident?"

"No!"

"What is going on?" Sarah asks and comes to the door.

"Did either of you kill Kyle?"

"What? Why would you ask me that?" Sarah gasps.

She feels relief knowing someone is going to know the truth so she doesn't have to carry that burden anymore, but she also feels nervous about what is going to happen to her family if people know.

"Did Danny kill Kyle?"

Sarah breaks down crying, and you have your answer.

"It was an accident," she cries.

"Let's go back to the station, please. Bring Danny."

Hotch is very impressed with the way you're handling things so he continues to let you be the one in charge. Bill isn't very happy to see his friends in the station, but Hotch and Rossi take time to explain to him what's going on. You bring the Murphys to the break room that's located right next to an interrogation room.

Ten minutes later, Hotch comes in after talking to Bill.

"Detective Lancaster just confessed."

You're confused but know Hotch said this for a reason so you keep your mouth shut.

"I need to see him," Dan says.

"First, we need you both to confirm the timeline again. We'll compare it to Lancaster's statement."

"What about Danny?"

"He doesn't need to hear any more of this. Y/N, do you mind?"

"I've got him."

"We can talk in here."

Hotch opens the conjoining door to the interrogation room and walks inside after the parents do.

"Can I have a snack?" Danny asks.

"Sure."

You walk over to the cabinets and find a bag of chips for him to snack on. There is also a bottle of Sprite you give to him to keep him happy. He grabs the Sprite and chugs three sips before putting it back on the table.

"You got any games here?"

"I don't think so."

"Can I watch cartoons?"

"Sure. Let's see if we can find some." You grab the remote and try to find some cartoons. Danny grabs the bag of chips and tries to open it but can't. He gets so angry at it that he begins smashing the chips onto the table. "Hey! Stop. I can open it for you." You open the bag and slowly put it in front of him. "There, it's open. Do you get mad like that a lot?"

"My mom says I have a bad temper."

"Did you and Kyle play together?"

"Only when I had to. He was always breaking my stuff."

"Yeah, I grew up with tons of siblings. I know how that goes."

"I'm not going to miss that," he scoffs and eats his chips. "He would always sleep in my room."

"I hear Kyle liked your bunk beds."

"They weren't for him. They were for my friends. He was always wetting the bed like a baby."

"Is that why you didn't want to play with him? Because he was a baby?"

"Yeah, but he thought he was big enough to play with me. Like today; he broke my model plane. It took me all week to make it."

"Today? How did that happen?"

"I woke up really early and wanted to finish it. I had it all set up in the basement."

"What time was that?"

"Early. He wanted to play with it, but I told him he could look at it. He ended up breaking it after I told him not to! So, I hurt him."

"After you did that, how did you feel?"

"Like I'd get in trouble. Like the time when our dog died because I kicked him too hard. He kept bothering me."

JJ walks into the room with a piece of paper in her hands, and you take it without a word. It's Kyle's autopsy results. You know the real reason why Kyle died.

"Will you watch him?" you ask her.

"Sure."

You walk into the interrogation room with the autopsy in hand.

"Danny told me what he did to Kyle. Do you know what he did?"

"Yes, we know."

"Everything he did?" Dan and Sarah look at each other in confusion. "Danny stuffed plane parts down Kyle's throat."

"What? No, he wouldn't do that."

"You told Danny to watch his temper. What else did you worry about? He said you had a puppy but he died."

"God," Sarah gasps and cries.

"Your son is ill and needs help. The truth is, the only thing Danny isn't capable of is remorse. He feels nothing. The son you are trying to protect is a sociopath."

Bill, Dan, and Sarah are going to face repercussions for hiding what really happened to Kyle while Danny is going to go to therapy to get some medicine to help him. You knew the second you stepped foot into the Murphy house that this whole thing was a cover-up, and you think you did a pretty good job at taking the lead on this one.

If you're lucky, this can be a permanent feeling.

"Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold." - Andre Maurois

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #series rewrite #cm season 4

[mirthlxss]

Off to the races

Chapter 12: White bikini off with my red nail polish

“No use lookin’ for sympathy sweetheart, you did this to yourself.”

master list

price x oc, series.

a03: pricescigar, Off to the races is posted in full.

taglist:  @deadbranch , @jxvipike, @smoggyfogbottom, @slimvevo-blog (who specially requested a tickle of piercing convo), comment or dm for a tag.

warnings: mention of alcohol.

a/n: “But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose.”― Anne Bronte

Frenzied hands darted to and fro, half-slurred shouts slugged across the room as stumbling feet shuffled between bags. A hectic attempt at preempting the impromptu trip abroad had spiralled into the three drunken fools teetering about, blurred eyes blinking heavily as they shoved whatever items deemed plausible into whatever luggage possible. A mess, it was a mess. 

Throughout the ordeal, she had learned her exposé’s name.  

“Pavel.” Hurled through wined stained lips, explosive disgust emphasising the ‘P’ each time she spat it out. Chanted like some sort of malediction, the others joined, stomping around the room and cursing the man as they helped her pack. 

“I mean, fuck him, right?” She swivelled on her back foot, nearly crashing into Johnny as she tried to face them both, shaky hands grasping onto his forearm in an effort to steady herself. The Scott wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulder, though he was no more stable, both swaying together, attempting to smooth out a dress between them. 

“Sleazy little fuck.” He agreed with all her sentiments wholeheartedly. The second he clapped his eyes on those photos the man felt the distinctive garble of bile rushing up his oesophagus. It plagued him as much as Price and Kyle, perhaps for more selfish reasons, that night all he could think of was his sisters. What if it was their private photos thrown up on screen? What if his sister had been taken from her life, captive to a crime she’d staggered into?

“This one?” Kyle held up a pouch stuffed full of products, half-lidded gaze faltering as he leaned closer to the two, decidedly shoving it into one of the duffle bags before awaiting an answer. He soon latched onto Lily’s other side, arm wrapping atop Soap’s as he cuddled into the others, foreheads butting together with mild amusement. 

“I want to say something, though, I don’t know if it’s allowed.”  An electrified chuckle presses past his lips, and the two draw closer, cheek to cheek with Garrick as they urge him on. 

“Not like that’s stopped you before.” Soap scoffs, biting grin only spurring the other on. He knows what Kyle’s gonna say, the question whirled around his mind at some point too, it was only natural. 

“You gotta tell us now.” Lily nudges her forehead against Garrick’s cheek, humming softly as he laughed aloud, pushing her back in his drunken state. They all swayed as a collective, arms locked around each other as they drew closer by the second, urgently needing to know the secret that tempted to spill. 

“The piercings.” Kyle exasperated, Johnny howled out laughing in response, Lily grinned from ear to ear. It felt like she’d never left university, like she was clinging to two housemates as they pawed over ‘going-out’ tops and drunkenly blazed through social barriers, bonding over embarrassment, wine and illicit piercings. 

“Which ones?” She urged, barely able to keep herself from cackling. Kyle’s gaze flickered down to her breasts and Johnny nearly collapsed them all, veering violently as he threw his head back snorting out his amused delight.  

“You know!” 

Dawn crashed down upon her head so hard it felt like the pitiless blades of sunlight that lacerated her curtains were stabbing her through the atmosphere. Moving seemed a monumental task, so nauseated at the world she’d convinced herself that even gravity felt heavier as she wrenched upright. For a dreadful moment, everything spun, wispy grayscale sparkles smeared across her vision before her body caught up with her movement. Heavy slaps of queasiness prevented any real progress, stuck hunched over on her bed taking small, desperate little breaths. 

Three, hard knocks chimed to the pounding of her headache. It took another round of knocking for her to realise it wasn’t just the war drum of her hangover marching all the alcohol out of her system. A dull, rasped attempt at calling out seemed to die before the door. Vocal cords scorched from a night of cheap wine and shouting. 

The entrance swung open anyhow, his bearish gate filling up the space and assessing the damage, dutiful in the way he combed over her and the room in one long look. She’d expected him to come up with something smart and smug, rub in the fact that she probably looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. He remained quiet, eyes fixated on the neat pile of luggage by his feet. 

“Going somewhere?” With a raised brow, Price stepped over the bags and focused back on Lilith, sucking in a short breath as he watched her try, and fail, to hide a small retch. 

“I know you’re going to follow up on Pavel.” Lilith grumbled, hands slowly grasping at either side of her head as she let out a pained groan. “And that you’re taking me with you.” 

“And so you’ve packed.” His weight shifts, contemplating the situation. Apart from the small pile of bags, everything seemed to be put in its rightful place, clean and tidy. Not a glass nor even a bottle in sight. If it wasn’t for the awful state she was in, he’d have a hard time deducing what happened. 

“You’re a very good alarm clock.” Lilith barely manages a tiny laugh, small huffs forced through before she retreats into another drawn-out groan. Everything hurt. What made it worse was the fact that it was all self-inflicted. 

“You weren’t at P.T., n’ wanted to check in is all.” 

“Thought P.T. was optional.” 

“It’s strongly recommended.” A moment passes and they both chuckle airily. She had come to find that most things with the Captain came ‘strongly recommended’ in other words, ‘you'd better bloody do it’. 

Price remained hovering beside her bed, quietly listening to the general plight of existence that came with waking Lilith. She seemed softer, steeped in the sticky ache of her bad decisions, not fully firing on all cylinders. What puzzled him was the compliance, the packed bags and the lack of lip. Besieged by the forlorn shock of her subdued nature, disbelief mounted at her compliance. It became clear that they would not argue. 

Struck now with the anticlimactic gape in his morning, a chunk of time was carved out of his calendar, devoted to clashing and corralling his captive. He’d anticipated an uphill battle, felt the goosebumps bite at his skin as he stood outside her door. This, her, ready and rough around the edges, was not planned for. Complexion pale, a sickly sheen to her skin, he knew it was just a bad hangover but the desire to cosset her riled within him so urgently it felt like he had taken the fight within himself, absorbing the anticipation and putting it to work against his self-restraint. 

He had the whole morning free. What better than to cavort with his captive instead?

The grip tightened around the bottle he’d brought in with him, intending to use it as some sort of bribe or force her to sober up with it. A cruel, creaky squeal cried from the bed frame as he sat down beside Lilith, shaking his head at the delayed reaction she gave to the high-pitched sound. 

“Ere’ get this down and we’ll try some painkillers.” He breaks the seal on the cap, offering her the gently fizzing electrolyte, sighing deeply as she grimaces at the smell. “C’mon Lilith, love, it can’t be that bad.” 

“Kyle and Johnny, I’m gonna kill them if I ever recover.” Divisive mutters, uttering various curses under her breath as she pushed herself closer toward him, placing her hand atop his and letting the other guide the bottle back to her parted lips. 

“Good girl.” He watches her intently, unconsciously swallowing with her. “Serves you bloody right for getting so drunk.” His grumble delved deeper into his chest. “Dumb and Dumber got their fair share of punishment this morning, nothin’ like a good long sprint to work off the booze ay’.” 

Lilith pulled away and restrained a garbled cough, amused at the thought of Soap and Gaz dragging themselves around the base to the tune of Price’s shouting. The drink swooshed around her body and felt incredibly unsettled, borderline threatening, nausea fighting against her with every deep breath. Shaky hands raked through her hair as she pulled it atop her head messily, soon shuffling across the sheets to settle beside John, resting on his shoulder with a pitiful noise. 

“No use lookin’ for sympathy sweetheart, you did this to yourself.” Despite his chiding, John shifted to wrap his arm around her, drawing her frame closer to himself. 

“Feel sorry for me!” Lilith demanded half joking and half petulant, intention clear as she let her weight fall back, trying and failing to slump back into bed with his arm around her. He only remained upright for so long, as usual, finding it very hard to deny the woman what she asked for. How could he? After all that’s happened, How could he? When the thought of her invading his team, his space, slowly began to shift into something different. Was it an invasion if she was now welcome? Accommodated for? There was a place for her in their base, in their dynamic, in his schedule, in his mind. 

And this morning? Now, by his side. 

John allowed himself to recline back, laying beside her awkwardly at first. Unsettled as he looked straight ahead at the crumbling ceiling, counting the cracks he’d need to fix, adding them to the list of things to do. They had embraced before, it was fleeting and well missed but this was entirely different. Far more intimate. More so than felt natural, for the prolonged minute of quiet that fell between them, the Captain began to question what he was doing. 

“Thank you, by the way, for all the things on the list.” Coy, voice barely above a whisper. She shifted on her side to look at him. “I thought you’d cut at least half of it.” 

John adjusted himself, taking in the timid tones of her voice, surprised to see she almost looked guilty. The depths of his pupils widened, encroaching upon the blue, committing every bump and divot of her visage to memory. It felt imperative as they’d not been this quiet and this close before. The self-conscious cloy vanished with her proximity, enthralled by her presence once again. Though wicked, dishevelled and rough, she still seemed to have a certain allure. 

“Was plannin’ on teasing you for that list.” He huffed. “Must’ve slipped my mind.” John took his opportunity, hedged his bets on the lull of her hangover and the unguarded disposition that came with it. He gently coaxed her closer, the firm hold around her shoulders now drawing her flush to his torso, relaxing even further as Lilith curled into him without protest. It was overindulgent, the comfort gained from feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the weight of her head on his chest. He daren’t begin to console his ever-fretting mind, the gnaw of culpability and duty could not be reasoned with. The longer Lilith stayed, the less he could justify his actions, and the more outrageous his behaviour. 

“So, where are we going then?” She sighed softly, eyes barely fighting off sleep as they blinked slowly, soon resorting to just lightly closing them. 

“Netherlands, tonight, flying commercial.” John began to slowly draw circles against the exposed skin of her arm, slightly bemused at how swiftly she seemed to slip into drifting off. 

“Hm, taking Stockholm syndrome to a new level huh.” Lilith hummed with a sleepy smile. 

“Stockholm, Lilith, is in Sweden.” 

“Fuck.” 

AUTHORS NOTE: SO very sorry for slow ass replies, my excuse is that my job is draining my soul from me. Anyway! Enjoy a slower chapter before I actually sit down and get to writing more exciting onesss, who doesn't like edging yourself with slow-ass character-building anyhow? TOODLES LOVE YOU!

#captain john price #off to the races #john price #captain price #mw2 price #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price x y/n #john price x reader #lana del rey #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #johnny soap mactavish #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #mw2 #141 #gaz call of duty #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #gaz garrick

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah I am begging you for some conversations between the Eddie’s about their partners/wives and the weird shit they do😂❤️❤️

Hiii babes!!! No need to beg, I will gladly do this for you! So I’m gonna lay out who each conversation is between so it doesn’t get confusing😂💖

Conversation key:

- ❤️ is between Husband Eddie and Wrong Number Eddie

-✨ is between Seven Wives Eddie and Southern Belle Eddie

-🖤 is between Fake Dating Eddie and FWB Eddie

-💖 is between Princess Eddie and Dating App Eddie

*Sometimes the Eddie’s just need to vent and who better to do that with than another Eddie?*

❤️ “so you two are married? But dated for how long?” “Uh…fuck she’d kill me if she saw me struggling to remember how long we’ve been together..uhm oh we dated for about two years give or take a few months.” “It took you that long to know you wanted to marry her?” “Oh no I knew I wanted to marry her the moment I saw her punch Jason Carver in the face.” “So…she’s violent?” “Yes…but not in an out of control way she’s just…uh…passionate.” “Sounds like a real winner…happy for you man.” “Don’t be an asshole dude your girl doesn’t even live in the same state as you…how you gonna fix that?” “She’s not my girl…we are friends.” “Right…yeah okay and Frodo is the best hobbit.” “What? No he’s not.” “Exactly…” “ooohhh…I mean her and I are friends there’s nothing wrong with that.” “Nope nothing wrong with being friends with the girl you’re in love with.” “I’m not in love with her.” “Really? So these Chad and Brad and uh what’s his name? Ken? Dudes don’t bother you?” “It was Kyle and there never was a Brad.” “But her dating them doesn’t bother you?” “Nope….” “You’re a fucking horrible liar…just go tell her you love her and get the fuck on with it.”

✨ “you said she drives a lifted truck?” “Yeah it’s pretty sick I’m not even going to lie.” “And she doesn’t let you drive it?” “No…but she said one day maybe…but that’ll probably never happen so I stopped asking.” “And she drives you around?” “Dude don’t look at me like that when you say it..I’m fine with being driven around…she lets me control the radio.” “That’s…so nice of her.” “Don’t be an asshole…how is everything going in your side of the park?” “Fine…I gotta ask does Steve bother your girl all the time? Or is he just weirdly obsessed with my wives?” “Steve? Harrington? He doesn’t bother her…I think he’s a bit scared of her though…what do you mean he’s obsessed with your wives?” “He’s always at Wednesday’s or Sunday’s house for advice or like to hang out and I’m like dude go get some other friends these are my wives…” “I’d have Monday talk to him about it…or maybe Friday she’s a little nicer.” “Yeah I just don’t wanna be an asshole I know he’s having some girl trouble lately.” “When is Harrington not having girl trouble?” “That’s…true….yeah I’ll have Monday talk to him.” “Maybe just give him certain times and days he’s allowed to come hang out so it doesn’t feel like he’s always around?” “That’s a good idea….so one more thing…does she make you wear a cowboy hat and boots?” “Only on special occasions.”

🖤 “oh fuck off your story is way more dramatic than mine.” “What are you talking about? You literally fucked Chrissy because you were upset your girl had to go meet Steve to get her shit back…that’s way more dramatic than my story.” “I didn’t know it was just to meet to get her shit back…I thought they’d end up back together.” “So…that makes it okay for you to fuck someone she doesn’t like?” “Dude…don’t be a dick okay? But you’re the one who fake dated your girl…at Chrissy’s fucking wedding!” “Well at least I didn’t make my girl cry.” “Low blow dude…low fucking blow.” “Sorry…I’m just saying out of the two of us your love story is way more dramatic than mine…” “fine…okay yeah mine is a little more dramatic but yours is just annoying because how could you not know that fake dating her was gonna lead to you falling in love?” “It was her idea in the first place! She asked me to play her boyfriend at the Hideout one time and it just…kept happening. Why would I think playing her fake boyfriend would make me fall in love with her for real?” “Because you make out and grab each others asses…of course that shits gonna lead to falling in love.” “Says the man who used to fuck his bestfriend…how’d you not know that was going to lead to falling in love dipshit?” “Fuck…walked right into that one…”

💖 “you met her where?” “On bumble…it’s a dating app.” “I can’t imagine the weirdos you found on that app…I met my girl at Family Video she works there part time.” “Oh yeah with Steve right? I heard you threaten him on the regular.” “He’s an asshole man…made her do inventory because he was lazy…had to make sure that didn’t happen anymore it’s not my fault he’s easily scared.” “He sounds like he needs an ass kicking.” “He does…so you two are together? Or…just friends?” “Uhm well…uh..I like her…like a lot actually but we haven’t had that conversation about if she likes me too…we spend a lot of time together and we FaceTime almost everyday if we don’t see each other.” “Yeah…you two are dating.” “You think so?” “I mean yeah…but talk to her about it and see what she says.” “Oh uh…your girl she’s like really nice right? Like super fucking nice?” “Yes..why?” “You think she’d let me like practice my..speech on her?” “Your speech?” “Yeah like how to tell my girl how I feel..I don’t wanna fuck it it man she’ll laugh at me.” “Right…yeah you can practice on her…but if you make a move and try to touch her or anything weird I’ll end your fucking life you got that?” “Dude come on I’m not an idiot.” “Yeah you’re not an idiot you’re just the love of your life’s handyman…” “that was rude…why are you so mean?” “Don’t know…just how I was written I guess.”

#the Eddieverse #conversations with eddie munson #eddie munson x princess #eddie munson fake dating #eddie munson fwb #husband eddie munson #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson x spoiled reader #multiple wives!eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson request #boyfriend!eddie munson #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

[malebotlabs]

Overheating:

Kyle kept checking the weather on his phone as if it’s gonna change the fact that it’s still 102° Fahrenheit outside (38.88 repeating for the rest of the Celsius using world), the ac went kaput earlier and nothing he does seems to bring the heat even slightly down. Kyle spent the past hour getting a repairman to come in but they’re not gonna show up for another day or two depending on if they flake again like they did the last time he went through this song and dance, at least that time it was the middle of spring before stuff got unbearable.

Just as the heat seems like the only thing that can be thought about the roommate Kyle’s been bunking with for the past year walked in, surprisingly no visible sweat at all on his well kept skin.

“Hey man, it’s a scorcher today huh?” the ever punctual and busy Raymond said as he walked in the blazing hot apartment put his bag down on the countertop and threw his keys and wallet right there with it probably just coming back from a business lunch with some client. Kyle never really bothered to ask what Raymond does for a living but considering how he dresses and acts it’s probably something in business.

“Yeah man, it’s like stupidly hot today I can’t think at all, I tell ya summer heat is the worst, what I wouldn’t give for it to be winter. At least in winter I can bundle up there’s only so much I can do with this kinda heat.” Kyle tiredly groaned out

“Well that’s why they made AC’s bro! I don’t think I could even function without one, it’s kinda like you with coffee but thankfully there isn’t an AC addiction as far as I know.” Raymond retorted, Kyle rolling his eyes at what can only barely be described as a joke.

“About that man, the AC got busted again, I called the office but you know how unreliable that repairman is, I’ve got some water in the freezer if you need something cool now but it’s gonna be a hot one tonight” Kyle responded clearly frustrated with the day so far

“Ah shit, for real? Well I’m a tough guy so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem, but man I was really hoping for at least a little relief from the heat, it’s a scorcher today huh?” Raymond responded, with a slight off sounding warble to his voice, head slightly twitching to the left.

“Well you’re the one who decided to wear slacks on a day like this, shit I’m surprised you aren’t overheating or anything. Like the least you could’ve done is wear shorts” Kyle responded eyes half closed and barely here for it all

“Well I had to dress properly for my job bro, someone’s gotta pay the bills somehow, it’s a scorcher today huh?“ responded Raymond, a clear lack of emotion in his voice except for the quickly older getting ice breaker.

“Fuck you man, you know I’m looking for a job. It’s just hard to do shit in this heat...” Kyle annoyed at Raymond’s holier than thou attitude tried saying in the least rude way he knew how failing horribly

“It’s a sc-scorcher today huuuh?” repeated as if speaking to no one

“Yeah I fucking get it, it’s hot, stop the bullshit man, if you think it’s so hot grab some water from the freezer” Kyle said even more pissed than before trying to keep it together

“Oh I’m not th-thirsty bro, I’m just Overheating, it’s a scorch-schorcher today huh?” Raymond stated aloud, mannerisms getting less and less human by the moment, acting more like a machine from one of those schlocky shows Kyle would catch at 4am on the old folk’s channel.

“Oh shit bro I’m sorry for snapping, do I need to get you to a hospital or something!?” Kyle startled blurted out at his in need roommate clearly trying to not make him worry but making it worse by the second.

“No no no, I’m perfectly Overheating Overheating Overheating Overheating, please-scorch-please sh-today huh huh huh?”

“Look we need to get you out of those clothes and get you something cold to drink stat, it doesn’t matter if you’re not thirsty if you’re overheating this badly!”

“No no I will, venting internallll sys-sys-systems please stand by”

Raymond then stiffly reached for his shirt, opening it as fast as humanly possible showing his completely smooth chest and stomach, the only blemish on his perfect skin being a barcode “tattoo” on his right pectoral

“woah man what are-” Kyle started to say before being interrupted by the sound of steam and smoke being released from a pressurized compartment as Raymond’s abdominals pushed in, and the opened like a set of double doors allowing Kyle to see wires and metal within his quickly failing roommate.

Kyle just sat there dumbfounded as his now revealed to be synthetic roommate shook in place, smoke exiting the now open hole in his stomach.

“Internal temperatures at inoperable le-le-lev, hey man have I told you how hot you look today? You know I’ve always-alwa-hadathingforyou bro bro bro bro”

Kyle just stared unable to answer anything other than feeling parts of his body move on his own, clearly making up his mind for him about the situation.

“I-Error in Central Processing Unit Unable to Activate Sexual Sub-Sub-Subsystems Please contact an Admi-I see you like me that way too-to-t-broooo” Raymond stammered, stiffly marching like a toy solider who’s key is wound up to it’s breaking point over to where Kyle was sitting

The machine slowly and stiffly bent over at a 90 degree angle, arms stiffly staying at it’s sides, with it’s mouth positioned right next to the completely lost human in front of it, as it’s synthetic voice smooth as modulated butter whispered into Kyle’s ear “get me fixed up-up and I’ll show-sho you everything I can do, do we have a deal? deal? deal? Usernotfound?”

#ASFR #male asfr #male robot #malebot #male android #android #robot #hey what kyle was a robot too wouldn't that be crazy wooow #you decide if he is or isn't hell put yourself in kyle's shoes be a self insert enjoy yourself #or be raymond be either or none of them live your life #if you do lemme know or hell even make your own continuation

[drunktuesdays]

incomplete stories #2

another half hour writing exercise, this time for @forsakethesea

"It's fine," Jim says dismissively. "Obviously you don't want to be involved."

"Obviously," Dustin echoes, stupidly. Jim isn't looking at him. Actually, if Dustin's gonna be accurate about it, Jim hasn't looked at him in days—maybe in weeks.  A few weeks, a lot of weeks.

"Yeah," Jim says, a tiny bit of impatience in his voice. "So we're agreed then." He shifts out of the room then, not quite running, but not—not—running, Dustin thinks.  Not that the distinction matters.

So Jim's pregnant.  And obviously, Dustin doesn't want to be involved. 

Nothing changes at first. Jim gets up when his alarm goes off, goes to his dumb job, comes home, makes himself dinner, goes to bed. Dustin sometimes wakes up when he hears Jim rustling in his room before work. Sometimes Dustin will be out on the couch when Jim gets back, and Jim will toss his stuff down and watch a few episodes of some dumb show with Dustin like everything's normal, like it's still in the before times. Sometimes he comes home and only waves Dustin off and goes immediately to his room and closes the door.  

Obviously you don't want to be involved.  Dustin plays through FFXV again and doesn't think about it. 

"I'll catch you later," Jim says one time, when they get to the arena. 

"What?" Dustin says, turning to look at him. "I thought you were gonna be there for the thing—"  Brandon's threatened all of them to show up for some BTE belt thing he wants to happen. Dustin's gotten no less than 6 emails and 4 texts about it. 

"I know," Jim says, "I'm coming. I'll be there."

There's honestly nothing Dustin can say so he says, "If Brandon knifes you, I'm not saying shit about it."

Jim waves him off, so Dustin splits, heads towards the conference room Brandon indicated in the email threats. 

Greg's already there, slouched in one of the chairs. "Jim's playing hooky," Dustin says, the moment he gets into the seat next to him.

"Yeah, he told me," Greg says disinterestedly.

"Oh," Dustin says, obscurely annoyed. 

"Well, he has to meet with Tony, now that he's showing," Greg says. He darts a look up at Dustin, and then back down where John Silver and Brody King are thumb wrestling. 

"He's what?"

"He's showing," Greg says. "You know, the baby?"

"Yeah," Dustin says.

"Cause he's pregnant,"  Greg says.

"I know," Dustin says. 

"Uh-huh," Greg says. "So he can't keep wrestling. Because he got a baby in there."

"You're a fuckin moron," Dustin says, but he doesn't mean it. Not really. He's been trying to stop watching Jim recently, and the idea that—the baby—is something Jim's gotta meet with Tony Khan about—alone—it's fucked up.  

When Jim gets back, at first there's nothing that weird.  He walks in with Kyle, talking seriously and quietly, their heads close together, and then when Jim nods once, sharply, they separate again and Jim changes direction and heads towards him and Greg, 

The thing is, Dustin could have ignored it for another few weeks. If Greg hadn't said anything, who knows how long Dustin could have ignored it.  But he did say something, so when Jim's walking towards them, Dustin watches the way Jim's t-shirt curves over his stomach. 

It's not wildly obvious. It's not blatant. But for hot boy Jim, who fucking loves his hot boy abs, yeah, it's obvious. Jim's body curves forward now, his black t-shirt covering a weight he's never had before.  It wouldn't be obvious to anyone else, but Dustin knows that body more than he's ever known anyone's body ever, other than his own. And there's a curve now. A fullness to Jim's stomach that Dustin has never seen, never even imagined.

"You need something?" Jim says pissly to Dustin, catching his eye as he approaches.

Obviously you don't want to be involved. 

"I'll tell you later," Dustin says, and turns deliberately to talk to Jeff Parker, ignoring Jim's long stare. Later, when they get to the hotel. Later, when Dustin thinks of the right thing to say. Later, when the curve of Jim's belly won't suddenly feel like the most shocking, electric, hot-stove thing he's ever experienced.

#wrestling #my work

[secondratefiction]

South Park K2 starter that never got off the ground

(Kyles POV)

'Wendy wants to get back together.'

I'd been staring at my phone in utter silence for I don't even know how long. I guess shock really is a hell of a drug.

I shouldn't be surprised really… Stan and Wendy had been doing this dance our whole lives practically. Break up, make up, break up, make up. Wash, rinse, repeat, every six months since we were eight years old.

I should have seen this coming.

Stan showed up one night a couple months ago because the two of them had split again. He was drunk and babbling, and carrying on about how this time he really was done with her. It was all stuff he'd said before…

But then there were a whole bunch of things he hadn't said before…

Like how much I meant to him, and how he didn't know where he'd be without me. How he'd never really thought about that kind of stuff, but now that it was right in front of him, he didn't know how he didn't notice it sooner.

And like a complete fucking jackass, I believed him.

And for the last couple months, things between us had changed. Probably irreversibly. Not that we'd really gone public with the more romantic aspect of our relationship, but I've never been all that big on obvious displays of public affection anyway. And any of the smaller things we did was pretty normal for us anyway, so nobody not in the know would've picked up on it.

For me though, the whole can of worms had been busted completely open. And if fairytales and happy endings were real, that would have been fine. But this was South Park, happily ever after didn't happen here.

Which is what left me here.

Sitting in the middle of my bed at 9:43 on a friday night, with a string of texts from my best friend - who I'd spent the last two months unofficially dating - saying he was getting back together with the same girl I'd watch break his heart time and time again.

There was a deep ache in my chest and for a moment I could kind of understand why Stan was always so quick to bury himself in a bottle.

My phone buzzed, and it was the first time I realized I'd been crying. It was Stan, and despite the overwhelming pain throbbing in my chest I still answered it like I was on autopilot or something.

He was talking too fast for my brain to process, only catching every third or fourth word as I stubbornly tried to get it to function. From the little bit I could gather, and just generally knowing Stan, he was apologizing about Wendy, while at the same time wanting me to tell him what to do.

"Stan…" I finally cut in, and he immediately shut up, "Stan I can't…. Look, I can't help you feel better about this right now."

I shook my head as I started to pull my phone away, "Do what you gotta do, Dude. No hard feelings, I want good things for you two. But I need to be alone right now."

I hung up, and it took everything in me not to hurl my phone across the room. I couldn't breath, I can't sit still. I just… I need to do something. I can't just stay here all night, or I'm going to lose it.

It took three tries before I was able to get my phone open, and by then my vision was so blurry from holding back tears I almost couldn't see the damn thing once it was. I sat on the edge of  my bed, tapping my heel urgently as I waited for him to pick up.

Please pick up.

"Hello?"

He sounded half asleep and I worried for a moment if I'd woken him.

"Hey, Ken… is it ok if I come over?"

"Yeah, man, it's… it's fine. Kyle… is everything ok?"

".....No."

#south park #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #k2 #stan marsh #style - mentioned (break up) #character pov #first person pov

[theteasetwrites]

Pretty... Cool

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Prison (Season 4) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, violence ❧ Word Count: 2.9k

❧ Requested by @lacilulu77 (sorry this took a little longer to get out! Took me a while to think of something but I hope you like it!)

❧ Summary: An incident during a run leads to Daryl being a little protective of you, and jealous of the guy who's trying to woo you.

❧ A/N: Jealous/nervous Daryl??? We love to see it.

Your group stopped to go over the plan once more in the middle of the abandoned shopping center.

“All right,” Daryl said, in his usual southern drawl that never ceased to fascinate you, “Glenn and Tyrese, sportin’ goods store. Sasha and Kyle hit the pharmacy. Hardware store’s goin’ to (Y/N) and Willow. Everyone got yours lists, and we meet back ‘ere in thirty. I’ll be seein’ what’s up with that auto shop. Remember—no gunshots ‘less absolutely necessary.”

In all your inexperience going on runs, you were a little terrified to split into small groups, but you’d worked with Willow before, and you liked her, so you figured you’d have each other’s backs.

Still, the pressure was intense. The prison was running low on supplies, what with all the people it was sustaining now, and lots of families were counting on you.

You couldn’t tell, but Daryl was nervous too. It was his first time leading a run with so many people, and he was terrified of losing any of you, though he was less partial to Kyle, who he’d caught flirting with you on more than one occasion.

The guy was a typical womanizer, interested in sleeping with as many women in the prison as possible until he felt he had achieved some kind of “record.” Daryl knew this not only because he saw the man talking up every woman in the prison, but because he’d heard him bragging to some other men about his sexual escapades.

You, however, were his latest target, and that infuriated Daryl.

At first he didn’t quite know why, but soon he realized it was because he had his own feelings for you, and that he didn’t want you getting hurt. Luckily, you seemed completely oblivious to Kyle’s advances, but that also worried Daryl, since maybe you’d think he was just being friendly and let him get so close that he’d pull a very sudden move on you. He knew how guys like that operated, especially since his brother happened to be one of those guys.

So when Kyle came up to Daryl a few moments after his announcement to the group, asking if he could partner up with you instead of Sasha, Daryl was visibly irritated.

“Nah,” he said to the man. “Teams are final.”

He turned back to preparing his crossbow, and Kyle let out a disgruntled huff. “Come on, man,” he said. “Don’t be a cockblock. I know you don’t do the whole sex thing, but I’m so close to nailing this girl. You gotta understand.”

He glowered at Kyle, nearly ready to knock his teeth out. He hated the way he had heard him talking about you, like a perverted sex addict. He’d listened to him speculate about what you looked like under your clothes, or whether or not you liked it “rough.” Sure, perhaps Daryl had wondered about those things too, when he was alone with his thoughts and particularly enchanted by you, but he never dreamed of talking about you like that to other people. It seemed wrong, like the words themselves were violating you.

He was about to say something, to tell Kyle off once and for all, but your voice cut through the thick air between them.

“Hey, Daryl,” you said, causing his eyes to flash up to your warm face. “I’m just wondering about this item you listed here.” You leaned closer to Daryl, and he flinched a little when he felt your shoulder against his, with your finger pointing to the scrawled out word. “What does MDF stand for?”

He cleared his throat before speaking shakily. He was always so damn nervous around you. “Medium-density fiberboard. It’s a kind of wood. Should be in with the lumber.”

You nodded as you looked at the paper. “Okay, got it.”

Just then, Kyle inserted himself into the conversation. “Hey, (Y/N),” he said. “There’s been a change of plans. Daryl said you and me are splitting up, and Willow and Sasha are hitting the pharmacy.”

Daryl gave him a death glare, but Kyle didn’t seem bothered. The guy was insufferable, but he’d just put Daryl in a strange situation—let him go with you, or make a big scene about it. Both choices hurt him in some way.

“Okay,” you said with a shrug. “I’ll go tell them.”

You went off to catch up with Willow and Sasha, who were both chatting as they waited for you and Kyle.

In a fury, Daryl turned towards Kyle and backed him a few feet away. “Listen to me, douchebag,” he said sternly, gritting his teeth. “If anythin’ happens to (Y/N), you’ll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, sure.”

You split off with Kyle a few moments later, and made your way to the hardware store, where a handful of walkers seemed to be stuck inside.

“All right,” you sighed. “Let’s figure out how we’re gonna do this. I was thinking I could break that chain and let them out one at a time, and you stand next to me and get rid of each one as they come. I’ll control the door while you do it. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

You took out your bolt cutters and split the chain, then pushed your body against the door before letting loose just enough to let out one walker.

It came stumbling out, and soon Kyle had bludgeoned it with his bat. The process repeated smoothly until the coat was clear.

Inside the shop, you made your way to the lumber aisle, trying to find that MDF on top of the list.

Kyle followed behind you, and the fact that he wasn’t trying to look for anything was getting on your nerves. Instead, he just kept talking to you, annoying you.

“So you got any plans after the run? When we get back to the prison?”

You huffed as you focused on reading the labels for the different types of wood. “Um, I don’t know.”

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could do something. Ya know, hang out.”

You swallowed hard. You were actually hoping to help Daryl work on the plumbing system in the bathroom. That was also why you had some plumbing parts and tools on your list. The two of you had been working on it for a while now, and, although you didn’t like spending so much time in a bathroom, you enjoyed it. Daryl was fun to talk to, when he felt talkative.

“Actually, I just remembered that I’m going to be working on that drainage problem in the bathroom with Daryl later.”

He scoffed. “Oh, come on, that isn’t done yet? It’s been weeks and you’re always doing that. Don’t you wanna have a little fun?”

You rolled your eyes as you grabbed the MDF and laid it down in your cart. “I promised Daryl I’d help him until it was finished. He does too much work on his own.”

You were about to continue pushing the cart when Kyle stepped in front of it. “What, are you screwing him or something?”

You were taken aback by the personal question. “What?”

He shook his head, grabbing onto the other end of the cart as he did so. “I’ve been trying to butter you up for months and all it takes is a dumb hillbilly with a toilet plunger to sweep you off your feet?”

He must’ve misunderstood. There was nothing going on between you and Daryl, and you had never even thought about it like that. Now, though, you supposed you did spend a lot of time with him, more than anyone else. He was the person you trusted most in the prison, since he’d saved your life so many times, and had always been nice to you without expecting anything.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” you said. “Even if there were, it wouldn’t be any of your business. Now get out of my way and make yourself useful.”

“Won’t you at least give me a chance?” he asked, almost in a begging tone. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Kyle,” you breathed, “this is making me uncomfortable. Let’s just get the stuff and meet back with the others.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly frustrated that he wasn’t getting anywhere with you. “Do it yourself.”

With a forceful push of the cart, he sent you backwards with a loud thud, and your arm had knocked over a piece of wood as you fell. The large piece of lumber fell, too, landing on your forehead and causing a throbbing pain to flow through you.

“Ow!” you cried angrily.

Not only was the front of your head aching, but your back had taken the brunt of the trauma from such a forceful push.

Kyle stood dumbfounded, not expecting that he would have actually pushed you to the ground.

“Oh, shit, (Y/N),” he panicked. “Are you all right?”

He walked over to you as you began propping yourself back up, with no help from him. “Fine,” you said, pawing at the place where you were sure a bruise would soon form. “Let’s get out of here.”

The run wasn’t great, but at least it was over. Now, you were resting in your cell, with an ice pack on your head and a headache that wouldn’t seem to go away. Hershel said the injury was superficial and that you’d be fine in a day or so, but that you’d probably have a headache the rest of the day. So, you sent Carol, who gave you the ice pack, to inform Daryl that you wouldn’t be able to help him today. Well, that’s what you asked her to tell him, but she ended up telling him that and more.

“Hey,” Daryl’s voice called out to you from outside of your cell. “Can I come in?”

You opened your eyes and gave him a small smile. You weren’t expecting him to come and see you, but you were glad to see him regardless. “Sure.”

He stood in the middle of your cell, then came forward tentatively to lift up your ice pack and look at the large purple bruise on your forehead.

“Kyle did this?”

You shook your head. “No. Well, yes and no. He pushed me, and I happened to fall. He said he didn’t mean to do it.”

Still, you didn’t forgive him. He let his emotions get the better of him, and regardless of whether or not he meant to hurt you, he was being irresponsible.

Daryl growled under his breath as he replaced the ice pack. He couldn’t stand to look at the minor injury anymore. Sure, you were going to be totally fine, but it pissed him off to no end that he hurt you. “That asshole’s never goin’ on a run again, ‘less it’s as a sacrifice.”

You snorted. “Stop. It’s no big deal. He was just being a jerk, lost his cool. He’s an idiot, but he’s not worth getting worked up about.”

He shook his head, both in admiration and frustration at how nice you were. You were the one at the prison who hated conflict the most, and you desperately wanted to see the good in everyone, even when they tried to take advantage of you. Daryl wasn’t like that. He pretty much assumed everyone was bad until he got to know them. That was just his defense mechanism, how he tried not to let anyone bad in.

“What’d he say to you?”

You sighed. “Well, he said something about wanting to hang out after the run, and I told him I was going to be working on the plumbing with you. I guess that pissed him off, because he… I don’t know, likes me I guess. I didn’t really think he thought of me that way, but maybe I’m just dumb.”

“Nah,” he said quickly. “You ain’t dumb, just… Well, I dunno what you are.”

You shook your head and laughed. “I’m too nice, I know. You’ve told me fifty times now.”

He lowered his head and smiled shyly at you, wondering if you had any idea of his feelings for you.

“Daryl,” you began to say. “Can I ask you something?”

He swallowed hard. Of course you could ask him anything, he thought, but the unknowing of what you would ask him made him nervous. “‘Course.”

Just then, the door to your cell burst open in a long, ear-piercing squeak.

“Hey,” Kyle said, looking directly at you and practically ignoring Daryl. “I need to talk to you.”

Daryl stood up, his fists clenched and his eyebrows furrowed in rage. “Go talk to someone else.”

Kyle huffed, and looked at Daryl for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you. “Listen, (Y/N). I’m sorry about earlier. That was a total accident.”

Daryl scoffed. “Why don’t ya just leave ‘er alone?”

Kyle looked quite annoyed now. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Anythin’ you say to (Y/N),” Daryl replied, “you’re sayin’ to me, too.”

Kyle exchanged a look with you, and you simply crossed your arms. “I think you should leave, Kyle. Thanks for apologizing but I’m not interested in whatever else you have to say.”

He left with a stomp to his step, and you almost started to laugh at how petty he was. He just couldn’t seem to accept the fact that you didn’t like him as much as he’d hoped, and that you’d rather spend your time with Daryl.

“Thanks, Daryl,” you said, then sat up a bit to pat your hand at the foot of your bed, inviting him to sit. “He’s been annoying me a lot lately. Maybe he’ll leave me alone now. I just didn’t know that was what he wanted.”

He sat himself down at the edge of the bed, careful not to sit on your feet. “Yeah, well, guys like that want every woman they think they can get.” His eyes widened when he realized he might’ve offended you. “I mean, not that you ain’t… special.” He could feel himself getting buried deeper and deeper. “Jus’... he doesn’t want ya for the right reasons.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugged. “Heard him talkin’, always braggin’ about the girls he slept with. He ain’t shit. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you. I mean, if you want.”

You smiled and rested your icepack on your bedside table. “Does that mean you’ll be spending more time with me? Like a bodyguard situation?”

He looked away from you as he twiddled his thumbs. “Uh, I mean, if you want me to, I will. Just don’t like seein’ ya get hurt. In any way.”

You tilted your head in flattery. “Well, I appreciate it.” You sat up again and grabbed his hand with yours. “I’d like to hang out with you more.”

He nodded. “I’d, uh… I’d like that too.”

Just then, he remembered that you were about to ask him something when Kyle barged in. “Hey,” he said. “What were you sayin’ before?”

You thought back in your head, and smiled when you remembered. “Well, I was going to ask you if you… um, if you like me?”

He looked down at his feet again, and stiffened a bit when he processed what you’d asked. Of course he liked you. He liked you more than he’d liked anyone in a long time. He felt comfortable around you, safe. That was more than he could say for most people.

Not only that, but he had intimate feelings towards you, that he was sure you didn’t share. Still, it came out, little by little.

“Sure I like you. What’s not to like? You’re nice, smart, pretty.” He quickly rubbed his face in frustration when he said that. “Shit. I mean, pretty… cool. Yeah, pretty cool.”

You looked at him seriously for a minute, before letting out a burst of laughter. “Oh, Daryl. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but did you say I’m pretty?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, well, if I did, would that bother you?”

You shook your head with a smile. “Nope. I think I’d like it a lot.”

Just then, as you thought of Daryl thinking that you were pretty, it occurred to you that Daryl was pretty, too. Those crystal clear blue-grey eyes, and those lovely cheekbones that made him look so noble, and yet so sweet. The button nose was your favorite, though.

“You know,” you continued after a few moments, “if a guy as cute as you says I’m pretty, then I suppose I’ve got no right to question it.”

His eyes widened at you as you sat up further and shifted yourself closer to him until you both had your legs dangling on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t believe what you’d just said to him. Throughout his whole life, Daryl had been called a lot of things, but he’d never been called cute. At least, not to his face.

“Did… did you just call me cute?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, did I? I mean, would that bother you if I did?”

He shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “Think it’d be pretty cool.”

Somehow, the day had gone from terrible to a whole lot better. Maybe you had a big bruise on your forehead, but at least Daryl Dixon thought you were pretty... cool.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader

[ragingbookdragon]

If We Were Fast Enough

Flash!Reader x Flashfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 5.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: I had this idea after watching a few clips of Flashpoint Paradox! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Her hand was tightly clasped in his, eyes narrowed in sadness, but there was a pride in them; she felt the speed transfer between them, flowing through her veins and he said, “You’ve got my speed, honey. It’s up to you now.”

The tears that had welled in her vision tipped over and she whispered, “I can’t leave you here, dad. I—I can’t just run away.”

He shook his head. “You’re not running away. You’re surviving.” A groan escaped him, and the pool of blood seemed to double in size. “We’re running out of time. You’ve gotta go before the timeline collapses.”

“Where do I go?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “This universe is home.”

“Honey, Speedsters are Speedsters whichever universe we’re in.” he smiled weakly at her. “You’ll have a family wherever you end up.”

She gazed at him, breathing deeply as fresh tears grew in her gaze. “I’m scared.”

“I know. But you can do this.” he replied, pausing to look her over. “You look just like your mother, honey.” He smiled tearfully. “She’d be so proud of you if she were here now.”

Pulling the cowl over her head, she gave a watery laugh. “Mom always said I looked like you.”

“Nah. You take your speed and nature after me, but you are a spitting image of your mother.” A blast sounded in the distance and they both looked over, eyes widening as the white flash of light grew larger and larger. “You have to go. Now.”

Swallowing thickly, she leaned down and hugged him around his neck as tight as she could, inhaling the scent of ozone and spearmint for the last time. “I love you, dad. I love you so much.” Her fingers dug into his ruined suit as she cried. “I love you.”

He caressed the back of her cowled head. “I love you more, honey.” Pulling away, he leveled her with a firm look. “Now run, Lightning Flash. Run.”

The bluish-white lightning flowed across her body, and she turned, letting her feet carry her across the war-torn field, escaping the atomic blast. The world melted around her, a blur of memories surrounding her: her birthdays, her parents’ faces, her first stroke as a Flash, the start of the war, the deaths of her friends and family, everything up until now.

She was helpless to stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks, the feeling of her heart pounding in her chest, and the booming in her ears as she ripped through the waves of time and the boundaries of space.

A shriek sounded behind her, and she turned her head, eyes widening. “Ah shit!”

The time wraith screamed at her again, reaching out to grab her and she just barely dodged it, turning back to face the flowing warp. She was close. All she had to do was get to the next time boundary and she could lose the wraith.

“Almost there!” she told herself as another bellowed sounded in her ears again, and with one final leap, she burst through the barrier, the waves collapsing around her. The shock of the blast sent her skidding along the ground, and she cried out as she rolled.

Shouts sounded in her ears, humans, but she was more concerned about the screaming time wraith. “I just lost everything! Can’t you just leave me the hell alone!” It shrieked at her again, advancing and anger welled through her as she pushed herself to her feet and she growled, “You wanna dance, you sonovabitch? Then let’s dance.”

Her eyes lit up in a white force and she darted past the wraith, hitting a point above it, then she darted past again, and again and again in a star formation, over and over until all that could be seen was a blur of blue and white. The clouds rumbled above, swirling faster and faster and she hit the top of the star, coming down at the wraith. A burst of lightning cracked from the sky, striking the time being just as she collided with it, and in a hail of blue and white strikes, the wraith exploded into smoking fragments.

As the smoke cleared, the human voices grew louder, but she was sprawled out on the ground, breathing heavily, her body crying under the strain. Someone placed their hand on her shoulder, worrying, “Are you alright?”

She nodded weakly. “Yeah…just gimme a minute. The five-star lightning strike always takes a lot outta me.” Shutting her eyes, she focused on breathing deeply.

“I’ve never seen anyone destroy a time wraith before.”

“It takes practice.” Craning her neck, she opened her eyes, and bit back a sob as the man’s face cleared before hers. “You’re this world’s Flash, aren’t you?” she whispered, “Barry Allen.” His blue eyes widened, and he nodded mutely. “I figured.”

“Who are you?” he asked. “What world did you come from?”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s gone now.” Meeting his gaze once more, she added, “But you can call me the Lightning Flash.”

“What’s your real name?” Barry quizzed.

(Y/N) Allen. And I’d tell you that but all it’d do is bring hurt to both of us.

“(Y/N) Sloan.” She laid her head down, closing her eyes. “I’m gonna take a nap for a while…I’m really…tired…”

His voice called out to her, but all she heard was a warbling noise as she drifted into darkness.

***

When she came to, her head felt like someone had thrown an overripe melon off a balcony ledge and watched it splatter across the ground. She groaned and forced her eyes to open, pushing herself up on her palms.

“Woah, woah, woah!” someone worried. “Take it easy there, Flashy.”

(Y/N) looked over, seeing a familiar green symbol, and an ever more familiar unmasked face. “I’m fine, Hal.”

He blinked. “You know who I am?”

“Please, I’d know that big head of yours from a mile away.” Smirking, she added, “I know everyone in the Justice League.” She grunted, pulling her left arm over her chest, feeling the taut muscles in her back ripple as she stretched them out. “Where am I?”

“The Watchtower.” Hal gazed at her curiously. “Man, when Barry said you knew who he was, I didn’t think he meant you knew all of us.”

“You sound upset that you didn’t get to introduce yourself,” she shot back with a pained grin, stretching her other arm. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll forget I know you, and you can reintroduce yourself.”

He chuckled and pressed a button on the side of the med bay bed. “Nah, no point now.” He looked down at the small light flashing. “Hey, she’s awake.”

In an instant, a sharp wind blew across the room and there stood the scarlet speedster without his cowl; moments later, the doors opened and in walked the top League members, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman.

(Y/N) threw her legs over the side of the bed as they walked over, waving off Barry and Hal who both reached for her, and stood on shaky legs. “Shit, I feel like a newly born giraffe.”

“You shouldn’t be up.” Barry frowned. “You practically tore yourself apart at the molecular level.”

“It was that or be taken by a time wraith,” she shot back, cracking her neck. “How long have I been out?”

“Eighty-six hours,” Batman said, taking her chin in his hand, tipping her head side to side as he shown a light in her eyes. “Your body’s been recovering slower than it should for a Flash.”

(Y/N) blinked. “The particular move does like Barry said it did. It tears the body at the molecular level to contain the speed force into one location.”

“It was dangerous,” Barry scowled, and she couldn’t help but laugh at this younger version of her father who was still just as serious.

“Being a Flash is dangerous.” She felt Batman pull away and she flexed her fingers. “I don’t use the move unless it’s a life-or-death situation.” Glancing at Barry, she questioned, “What earth is this?”

Before he could speak, Batman denounced, “You time jumped, and you don’t know what earth you came into?”

“I didn’t exactly have time to think out a plan while a nuclear blast was going off, Bruce,” she growled, glaring at him from behind the neon blue mask. “And to top it off, I had a time wraith coming after me. I wasn’t in a position to choose which earth I wanted.”

He went silent, gazing at her intently. “Whose names do you know of the Justice League here?”

(Y/N) looked around at the superheroes before her. “You’re all the same Justice League as my earth, but in mine, you’re retired, and your children run the show.”

“I’m sorry, children?” Hal interrupted. “We have—we have children?”

“Some,” she laughed. “Conner Kent is our Superman, Donna Troy is our Wonder Woman, Jason Todd is our Batman, Kyle Rayner is our Green Lantern, and Roy Harper is our Green Arrow.”

“And you?” Superman questioned.

“I’m my Justice League’s Flash. The Lightning Flash.” (Y/N) smiled wearily. “The fastest woman alive.” She toyed with the blue and white gauntlet. “At least now I am.”

“You said you were our kids?” Hal said. “Are you Barry’s daughter?”

The two Speedsters looked at each other and she answered calmly, “No. My transformation into the Flash was a freak accident, much like Wally West’s. That being said, I’m not related to the Flashfamily by blood.”

“Hmm.” Batman grunted, then turned, wandering off. “You need to rest up more then we’ll run tests.”

“Only if she consents.” Barry called out.

Bruce stopped, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he retorted, “She’s a Speedster from another universe. We need more information before we can let her loose in anyone’s city.”

As he wandered off, she placed her hands on her hips and griped, “God, I miss Jason being Batman. He’s less of a jerk-off about new things.”

Superman chuckled, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t take it the wrong way…(Y/N), was it?”

She nodded. “Yeah, (Y/N) Sloan.” Sticking her hand out, she added, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmured, shaking her hand strongly, then he pulled away. “He is right though. You should get some more rest before you wander around the Watchtower.”

She waved it off. “I’ll be alright. If you’ve got a treadmill designed for Speedsters though, I’d like to run a bit.”

“I’ll show you where it is,” Barry answered, leading her from the group. As they walked down the hallway, she paused, leaning against the wall as a wave of nausea came over her; he caught it instantly. “Are you okay?” he frowned. “We should go back to the med bay.”

“No.” she grunted. “I’m fine. Just…just gimme a moment.” Shaking it off, she squared her shoulders. “I absorbed speed from the remaining Speedsters on my world before I left. It’s just taking a toll on me.”

“Why absorb their speed?” he asked, and she could tell from his voice that there was a level of suspicion in it.

“Because it was the only way to keep it from being stolen by our enemies as we were being slaughtered.” (Y/N) looked down the hall. “We can go now. It’s passed.” She bypassed him, wandering down the hallway, though she kept a hand on the railing the entire time.

***

It wasn’t a surprise that they sent her back to Central City with Barry after the few tests she’d let them run. Only tests on the outside, no blood or DNA samples for them to investigate. Barry’s apartment was cramped and there wasn’t room for them both to be in the kitchen, but she’d lived there before, so ducking under his arms and turning around him was second nature.

And Barry, bless the kindhearted soul he was, tried at every opportunity to make her comfortable in the home. (Y/N) respected it, knowing that even worlds apart, Barry Allen was still Barry Allen. She watched him sometimes. When he was sitting on the sofa or at the bar, flipping through paperwork or reading a book on physics. He always lost track of time, forgot what was happening around him, but his face showed ease. Peace. Like the world wasn’t on his shoulders.

It made her miss her father. It made her miss her family and friends. Her world. (Y/N) cried at night on the couch, silent tears dripping down her cheeks as she remembered every last moment of her family and friends’ lives. She’d been lucky in the end to come out unscathed. But her father, his friends, her friends, all dead. All killed in a pointless war that ended with the entire world blown to hell—and she was the only one left.

She sat beside the window, gazing down at the quiet street below her; she felt like crying, but by now, she’d cried out every tear, and all that remained was the hole drilled in her chest, empty and aching.

“(Y/N)?” Glancing over, she saw Barry coming out from his bedroom, brows furrowing at her. “Are you okay?”

Shrugging, she looked back out the window. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again, Barry.” It was hard to not call him ‘dad’ all the time, and weird to call him ‘Barry’.

She felt him sit opposite of her on the little bench. “Can I help you anyway?”

It took a while for her to speak, but when she did, her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s all gone. My life. All of it. I’m the only one left from my world.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m…alone.” His hand rested on hers and she felt tears well in her gaze. “I miss my family…and I miss my friends.”

She shook her head, looking at him. “Why my world? Why us?” tears slipped down her cheeks. “Everything was fine one moment and the next thing any of us knew, the world was going to war, and we couldn’t stop it.” A loathing laugh escaped her. “We were the Justice League. The proteges of the greatest heroes and yet we couldn’t stop war.”

(Y/N) wiped her tears. “We failed. I failed.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault, (Y/N).” Barry murmured. “You know that.”

“It feels like it.” She countered. “What do I have to show for all my saving? A sole survivor stuck in a world that has no need for her.”

His eyes were narrowed in concern, the way her father’s used to do when she’d tell him of her troubles and doubts. “There’s always a need for us. Everyone one of us.”

“Speedsters?” she asked, and he squeezed her hand.

“If the universe wanted you dead, you’d be dead, (Y/N). But you’re here and you’re alive.” He smiled sadly. “You can’t outrun the past. But you can change the direction you’re running in.”

She gazed at him and for once in the past few weeks she’d been there, she felt her heart lighten. “Thank you, Barry.”

He smiled warmly at her and patted her hand. “Since we’re both awake…wanna go for a run?”

(Y/N) chuckled and nodded her head. “Yeah. It’d certainly help burn off the emotions.” She held out her hand and Barry looked at the ring on her finger.

“Wow, your ring is cool.” He took her hand, gazing intently at it. “I noticed your suit isn’t red like most of us Speedsters are. Yours is mainly blue and white.”

She nodded. “It was too complicated to call myself Flash since there were more than one, so I took the name Lightning Flash and designed my suit the colors associate with lighting.” (Y/N) vibrated and reappeared in her suit. “Blue and white.”

“With silver trimming,” he added, poking the mask she wore, and she batted his hand away.

“Hey, gold’s overrated.”

Barry’s face pinched as he vibrated into his suit. “Is not!”

“Is too! It’s the colors for the Seminoles.”

He placed a hand to his chest. “I can’t believe you just told me my colors were FSU’s colors. I’ve been fatally wounded.”

“You’re a drama queen,” (Y/N) laughed then started towards the door. “Race you to Coast City!”

Barry sped after her. “Why Coast City!”

“Because it’s California, man!” she watched as he matched her speed. “And Hal’s apartment always has Doritos!”

“I think you might have a crush on our resident Green Lantern,” Barry teased and (Y/N) gagged.

“Dude, gross.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you aren’t friends with your Green Lantern!”

“The best, but Kyle and I were only friends! My dalliance fell with another team member!”

“Batman?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Batman.”

“Oh. Lovely.” Barry sighed. “You and Jason Todd seem like a wonderful pair.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Contrary to popular belief, Jason was actually a fantastic Batman. He loved it, oddly enough.”

“That is odd,” the Speedster countered. “Because as far as I know, none of the Batkids want to be Batman.”

She merely laughed in return, passing the Coast City sign.

***

“You know these aren’t…my world folks, right?”

He smiled, watching the group of young adults across the room laugh and joke around. “I know, but the lot of us thought it would be good if you got together with the age group of you own.” Barry looked over. “Besides, I think you’re going to fit right in with this world’s group.”

(Y/N) tipped her head side to side, huffing a laugh as Jason thumped Kyle in the side. “We’ll see.” She let Barry lead her over and the small group perked up at their arrival.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming on such short notice. I know you were busy.”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “So, why did the League invite us all?”

Barry gestured to (Y/N). “I’d like everyone to meet (Y/N) Sloan. She’s a Speedster who recently arrived on this earth.”

“Recently?” Roy asked and he nodded.

“There was a…problem on her earth.” He glanced at her and nodded, prompting her to speak.

“My world isn’t in the general stream of timelines anymore.” She smiled awkwardly. “I came here to…survive more or less.” Holding out her hand for one of them to shake, she said, “But it’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“You know who we are?” Kyle asked as he shook her hand.

“Yeah. This world is surprisingly similar to mine, Kyle.” (Y/N) smiled with a little less awkwardness. “I know all of you.” Her eyes fell on Jason who was watching her closely, teal eyes narrowed in calculation. “Penny for your thoughts?”

He hummed. “Who are we over there?”

At that, all the awkwardness fell away. “You don’t wanna know,” she giggled, and his face dropped.

“No.” she nodded, and he whispered, “Me?”

“You.”

“I’m confused,” Roy interrupted, and Donna snickered.

“I think Jason’s the Batman of (Y/N)’s world.”

“HA!” everyone dissolved into hysterics as Jason proceeded to all but cry.

“I don’t wanna be Batman!” he whined. “Why am I Batman! Why not anyone else!”

(Y/N) laughed. “What are you talking about? You volunteered to be Batman.”

“Jesus, I must’ve lost my mind then,” Jason retorted, then looked at her. “Do I carry guns?”

“Non-lethal rounds.”

“Damnit.” He sulked. “Can’t freakin’ believe I’m the Batman on your world and I willingly put the suit on.”

“You were a good Batman,” she stated. “There wasn’t anyone I trusted more to watch my back on the team.”

He met her gaze, seemingly shocked, though it only lasted a minute as he quizzed, “So if I’m Batman, does that make all of us…?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yep. Wonder Woman, Superman, Green Arrow, and Green Lantern.”

“And you?” Kyle asked.

“Lightning Flash,” she answered coolly. “The fastest woman alive.” Meeting their gazes, she tipped her head down. “I know you’re not them…but I do hope we can be friends.” She smiled. “You can never have too many of those, no matter what world you’re on.”

Kyle looked over at Barry who was almost crying. “We get to keep her, right? Because if we don’t, I’m going to be very upset.”

(Y/N) snorted and wrapped a loose arm around his waist. “Don’t worry, Kyle. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” A growling sounded and her cheeks warmed as she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Sorry about that.”

Jason laughed, getting to his feet. “I guess Speedster stomachs are the same no matter what world you’re on.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Barry retorted, and the vigilante looked at her.

“Wanna annoy Batman and hang around Gotham City?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Wait for me!” Roy shouted, yanking his legs from the table, and soon the others were following.

Barry watched them as they walked to the Zeta-Tubes, laughing and ribbing one another like they’d been friends since childhood; someone nudged him in the side, murmuring, “She’s gonna be okay.”

He nodded as Hal settled beside him. “Yeah…I know she will.” He smiled as (Y/N) leaned into Jason’s side and brought a hand to her eyes, wiping the tears away. “She’s already fitting in better than I thought.”

“(Y/N)’s a strong woman,” Hal acknowledged. “She acts a lot like you in that aspect.”

“How so?” Barry inquired and the Lantern shrugged.

“Well, you can’t get her to stop attending League meetings no matter what Batman says, and she’s always ready to put herself on the line for us.” Hal huffed a laugh. “And she treats me like I’m an old man. I’m thirty-eight and she acts like I’m fifty-six.” He looked at Barry. “But she flows in the world like you, Barry. Her mannerisms, her styles, her speech, it’s all you.”

The Speedster frowned, quietly stating, “You think she’s my future daughter, don’t you?”

Hal shrugged. “She doesn’t look like you, but she’s comfortable around you. Like she knows she’s safe if you’re there with her.”

“Why lie about it though?” Hal could tell Barry was hurt. “Wouldn’t she want to tell me?”

“If you lost everything and showed up in another world where there was a parent still alive, would you act like nothing changed or would you keep it at arms-length?”

Barry sighed. “You’re…right.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even think of that.” His frown deepened. “She must hate looking at me though. I’m not her dad but I’m another version of him.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Barry.” Hal said, clasping his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “She’s just…trying to keep it all together and not mix this world with hers.”

“I feel connected with her.” He admitted. “The speed force works funny like that. We can feel other speedsters—we know their speeds and auras.” His voice became soft. “Hers feels like…like…”

“Like?” Hal encouraged and Barry sighed.

“Her aura feels like when I went back in time and saved my mom.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to explain but she feels like—”

“Like family.”

Barry gaped at Hal. “Yeah…that’s exactly it.”

Hal nodded. “She’s still your daughter even worlds apart.”

“What do I say to her?”

“Don’t.” he answered. “Let her come to you about it.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Barry agreed.

***

The group had dispersed as quickly as it had come together, not that she was overly upset—she knew they all had prior engagements and teams to be apart of, but she would’ve been lying to say that it hadn’t saddened her a bit. Jason and Kyle, however, seemed to be the only ones that were usually around, Jason more than the latter.

(Y/N) liked being around Jason. He was much more hotheaded than she was used to, but she decided that like the Flashes, Jason Todd was Jason Todd no matter what universe he was in.

He was a little more reckless than she knew, playing fast and loose with the game, but he knew where his feet landed with each jump, and he was there when she needed help, her the same.

It hadn’t taken him long to deduce that the two of them were more than friends in her world, making the joke that she was his Catwoman—she’d cried she’d laughed so hard, but it given them time to talk about everything that had happened to her and her world; most importantly, her father.

She watched as Jason reclined against the cool stone of the ledge, passing one of the wrapped cheeseburgers to her. “Thank you,” she murmured, unwrapping it.

“Mhm,” he hummed, sipping his milkshake, setting his hood beside him; he swallowed and looked over. “What’s on your mind?”

(Y/N) blinked. “What are you talking about?” he merely cocked a brow and she sighed. “I forgot you could read people well.”

“Well maybe if you were a book and not a pamphlet, it’d be harder.”

“Did you just call me simple?”

“Never.” He waved it off. “What are you thinking about?”

She sighed again and set her half-eaten burger aside, pulling her knees to her chest as she whispered, “My mom’s maiden name was Sloan.”

Jason arched a brow. “You go by ‘Sloan’. Was your mom married?”

“My parents were. She died from cancer when I was ten.”

“I’m sorry,” he lamented, and she smiled.

“Thank you.” (Y/N) looked over. “My last name is Allen.”

His eyes widened. “As in Barry Allen, Allen?”

“Yeah…my dad.”

Jason blinked. “Holy shit.”

“Mhm.” She propped her chin on her knees. “The reason I’m just as fast as Wally West in this world is because I absorbed my dad’s speed before I left mine.” (Y/N) gazed at the city. “And then I left him to die in the blast.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault.”

She huffed. “So Barry’s told me.”

Jason stared at her. “Why do you live with him in Central City?”

“Because I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she answered. “And I…I—”

“You miss your dad.” He answered for her, and she nodded, feeling warmth gather in her eyes and she squeezed them shut.

“Yeah…it’s not him but…”

“It’s the only thing you’ve got that’s close enough to him.”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded. “You’re welcome to come live with me over here.”

(Y/N) looked over at him. “I can’t do that, Jason.”

“Why not?”

She laughed. “We barely know each other.”

He shrugged. “We know each other enough.” Gazing at her, he added, “I’m not your world’s Jason, but we must be similar enough because I’ve seen and felt you fall behind me during fights, being at my six when I didn’t have it covered.” He smiled. “You know me, (Y/N), and I’d like to know you too.”

She merely gaped at him, then huffed a laugh. “I think that’s the most similar thing to my world’s Jason that I’ve heard you say.”

“Oh, come on!” he griped. “He couldn’t be that different from me!”

(Y/N) smiled. “Robins.”

Jason blanched. “I had Robins?”

“You had a son, who was exactly like you right now.”

“I wanna ask about the son, but what do you mean right now?”

“Oh, you know…hotheaded, anti-social, antagonistic.”

“You’re cute,” he scowled, then looked into the distance. “I can’t imagine bringing my kid with me.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Please, it took him like five years of complete begging on his knees before you’d even let him put on the suit, let alone go out with you.” She reached over and pushed hair behind his ear. “You were a good father…a good man.” Her expression turned sad. “I wasn’t fast enough to save either of you.”

Jason leaned into her touch, a frown on his face. “They know you tried, (Y/N).”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hope they knew that.” She shook her head as the tears started to spill over. “I lost everyone. You, JJ, my dad and all my friends.” (Y/N) stared at him through the tears. “How do I just start over after all that?”

He pushed the takeout bags out of the way and scooted over, pulling her to his chest; she buried her face in his suit and he propped his chin on the crown of her head. “I wish I had an answer for you.” He rubbed circles in her back. “But I do know that you can either let this keep you down, or you can get back up. Because if you don’t…then every life lost was in vain for you to survive.”

“I take it back,” she blubbered. “Your philosophical bullshit life lessons are the most Jason thing I’ve heard.”

He smiled, squeezing her tight. “That’s what we’re gonna call it now. Philosophical bullshit life lessons.” Jason pressed a kiss to her head. “It’s going to be okay, (Y/N). It’ll get better.”

***

It’d been a full year since she’d come to the new earth. She hadn’t moved in with Jason yet, but the moving boxes on the couch were the start of it—and she hadn’t told Barry she was leaving, or that he was her dad. (Y/N) wasn’t sure how to break that seal just yet.

She wandered around the tiny apartment, smiling at all the memories she’d made in the past year, and into his bedroom, where she paused at his dresser. A gold ring rested on top of it, and she picked it up, flipping it in her hand.

A woosh sounded from the door. “I’m home!” Barry’s voice trailed off in confusion and he called, “(Y/N)?”

“Here.”

He appeared in her peripheral, but she didn’t take her eyes off the ring, still gazing at the center stones. “There are boxes on the couch.”

“I’m moving in with Jason over in Gotham.”

“Oh…” he murmured, then took sight of what she had in her hands. “Is that—”

“Nora’s wedding ring?” she nodded. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know it was my mom’s?” Barry asked, stepping up to her and she finally looked at him, meeting his eyes.

“Because I had the same one in my world.” (Y/N) searched his gaze. “But you don’t seem surprised by that fact.” She sighed. “How long have you known?”

Barry’s face contorted in shame. “A few weeks after you got here.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

He shook his head. “Hal said—” he sighed. “I wanted to wait until you said something to me about it. I was afraid if I did, you’d run.”

(Y/N)’s brows pulled together, lips pulling down sadly. “Barry…”

“I know I’m not your dad,” he whispered. “But I know, (Y/N). I can feel it.”

She felt her lips wobble and before she knew it, she was throwing herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist as tight as she could. “Dad.”

Barry’s arms came around her, one holding the back of her head, the other in the middle of her back. “I’m here, (Y/N).”

“I missed you so much,” she cried. “I wasn’t fast enough to save them, and I couldn’t save you either.”

“No,” he said. “You did everything you could. I know you did.”

“But I wasn’t fast enough.” (Y/N) sobbed. “You had to give me your speed so I could run away. Like a coward.”

“Like a survivor,” Barry corrected. “You’ve never run away.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re a survivor, (Y/N). And your dad made sure of that.” He pulled away slightly, tears of his own dripping down his cheeks. “You’re fast enough.” She shut her eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks and he pressed his lips to her forehead. “And no matter what world you’re on, you’re still my daughter.”

A laugh that sounded much more like a sob escaped her and she hugged him again. “I love you, dad.”

Barry smiled, holding her tight. “I love you more, honey.”

#flashfamily x reader imagine #flashfamily x reader imagines #flashfamily x reader #flashfamily imagine #flashfamily imagines #flashfamily #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd x reader imagines #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x r #red hood x reader imagines #red hood x reader imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines #red hood imagine #red hood #barry allen #flash #the flash #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc #batman #superman #wonder woman #green arrow #green lantern

[toplinetommy]

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

[roswellnmsource]

Michael Trevino Talks The CW’s ‘Roswell, New Mexico’

So first off, what was your reaction to finding out you’d be doing that time jump this season? Michael Trevino: For Kyle, I think jumping — I mean yeah, time has passed, right? And I think whenever you start a new season, we always ask that. We’re like, “Well, how much time has passed? Where are we starting from? Has as my character been here, been there?” So this is one of those seasons where yes, time has passed, kind of a restart, reboot and it’s fresh. I think our first episodes were showing people in their different dynamics and kind of briefly alluded to what they’ve been up to, and that’s always nice.

I had the chance to see episode nine early and really enjoyed it. What can you preview for the fans about what this episode has in store for them? I feel that episode nine is a turning point for Kyle. Kyle, as we all know, is there for everybody, whenever he can be. He seems to be the one that they go to. He’s always putting out fires, I keep saying that but it’s true. Whenever there’s a problem, Kyle’s there for you. And I think this episode is kind of where — not that he’s reached a limit, but it’s taken a toll on him and we get a very frustrated, little angsty Kyle for good reason, I feel. I think that that frustration is a bit earned after everything, but we are going to find out in 3×09, as we’ve been finding out, a bit more about who Jim Valenti was, who was Kyle’s father, who is Eduardo, what is Deep Sky about, and it’s going to kind of jumpstart Kyle for the rest of the season. It’s a big episode for him because he finally makes a decision on, “Okay, enough is enough. This is how I feel about this and this is what we’re doing next.”

How was it for you to play with that sort of stroyline as an actor? As you said, it is such an important point for him. Well, I gotta be honest, I just saw the episode and I’m coming in hot! I’m coming in real hot and in the moment I didn’t think it was that hot, but damn, we’re there. And so I think it’s fine because I get a lot of feedback, which is great, that Kyle is such a good guy and “I like his character, he’s there for everybody.” That’s nice, right? So I feel like after three seasons of that, to see Kyle a bit over it with what’s going on and everything that he’s being told, new information, more new information, I think it works. For me, you try to find those moments of like, “Okay, can I keep being there for everybody,” or at some point I’m going to be like, “Okay, I’m done,” right? Or “I can only do this much.” He’s never going to turn his back on people, but in this episode we see him a little frustrated.

Fans love the show, what does it mean to you when you go on social media or meet fans in person and hear their response to your work? It’s great. It’s a beautiful feeling because we’re currently filming season four and that’s rare for a series to really last that long, to build these characters, and to still have these interesting storylines. So, to know that people are still engaged in these characters and the story that we’re telling, they’re still tuning in, it’s nice. What makes it even more special this season is because we’re watching season three right now, but we’re currently at the same time filming season four. Through the scheduling it just worked out that way, but it’s almost instant feedback and it’s also an instant reminder of “Okay, where have we been? What have we done?” So we feel closer to the story, which is great for us as actors, but sometimes it’s not that way. You’ll see something and be like, “Oh yeah, we shot that a year ago. Where am I coming from? Where are we headed,” and you want to track these stories but right now I’m just thankful for everybody that’s continuing to watch and who’s invested in these characters.

The show was picked up for a season four ahead of season three even premiering, which was so amazing to see. What was your reaction when you heard the news? I was genuinely surprised because usually you don’t get a pickup until at least the season has aired or the season is four or five episodes in, but I guess because in the year COVID and the delay, the network was able to see all these episodes and see the ones that we’ve done already. It’s great feedback. I think that we have something special happening here in Santa Fe, New Mexico with this crew, this cast, and our writers back in LA, who are back to visiting us on set per their episode. Everybody’s still invested. It’s a great feeling because we’re all here, we’re happy to be here, grateful to be telling these stories and working, and we’d like to continue.

What has been your favorite storyline of the season so far that fans have already seen? I think — okay, well, to answer that on what we’ve already seen, I did like and enjoy the scenes with Kyle and Michael. Those were fun to shoot. I get along great with Mr. Michael Vlamis and it’s always fun to be in scenes with him because, as we know, Michael Guerin is a bit of a wild card. With that, Mr. Michael Vlamis on the day is able to be a little bit unpredictable and I like that. I like performing with him and feeding off of what he’s bringing. He always keeps it fresh and new in each take. So, I like those scenes with him

I know you can’t tell me too much, but what can you tease about the rest of season three? The rest of season three, I feel now that Jones is really flexing on us, we have this bit of the Avengers assembling right in Roswell, like everybody having to come together, everybody has a job, and it’s to really take care of Jones and get him out of here. So I think that’s really what the rest of these episodes are going to be about.

I love that metaphor you did. It’s perfect. It really is because it’s like from season one to season three, we’re all separate. Now, it’s like, “Okay, we have to join forces to handle this guy.” And that’s what we’re gonna see.

You filmed season three with the COVID pandemic and now you’re filming season four with those safety precautions since the pandemic is still going on. What did it feel like for you to wrap season three with those circumstances, but then also come back for season four? Well, I have to give it to our producers, really, because everybody in the world had to pivot. We all had to make changes in our lives and I think the changes that have been made to keep everybody — crew, catering, casting, post production, accounting, whoever — safe on set, there’s been some different rules and it’s kept everybody safe. I’m proud to say we didn’t have to shut down once in season three. Unfortunately, there’s other productions that had to, but up here in Santa Fe, no. We were just lucky or we followed the rules, I don’t know but we were great and we were able to keep to our schedule, not have to shut down, and now we’re back for season four and we know what to expect. So things are running smoothly and there hasn’t been any problem. I’m just happy, glad, and grateful that we’re able to still tell the stories.

What is your personal favorite dynamic (friendship or relationship) when it comes to Kyle? I’m going to say that I want to see more Kyle and Isobel. I think that Isobel brings out a different side of Kyle whenever they’re in scenes or have interactions with one another. I’d like to lean more into that storyline for whatever it may be, I just want them to have more interaction because I think Kyle acts a different way around her. She’s just such a big ball of energy, so I think that would be fantastic and I would want to see more of that.

I know you’re probably not going to be able to give me too much on this, but I have to ask you, what was your reaction when you read the scripts for season four? Well, my reaction is a kind of going off of my last answer, Kyle ends up having more storyline with Isobel and it’s nice to see that play out. And so far, it’s been refreshing to see them in scenes together. I will tease this: so far in season four, the scenes that are with Kyle and Isobel have a comedic feeling to them. I feel like their scenes are fun and funny to shoot, but there’s a comedic element to it.

Is there any other show that you are personally a fan of and would like to see Roswell, New Mexico do a crossover with? Oh damn, that’s a great question. Off the top of my head, we’re gonna have a Roswell, New Mexico and The X-Files crossover event. This episode is going to air right after the Super Bowl and millions of people are going to watch it. It’s going to be Scully and Mulder pulling up to Roswell, New Mexico and Kyle will be there to greet them.

Is there a memory that sticks out to you as a memorable moment from filming season three? Oh gosh, it’s our season finale, it has to be our season finale. I can’t give away too much, but like I said about as far as Avengers assembling, it’s those scenes when we’re all on set together. It’s the season finale, we’re in Santa Fe in the middle of February and March, it’s freezing, it’s like 10 degrees outside, we’re getting the exterior night shoots that we need, and we’re all in. It’s not even just the cast, it’s the crew, it’s everybody. We’re just trying to get the final shot done of the season and we are working against all the elements. It’s a bit chaotic but it’s organized — organized chaos, that’s what it is. Those feelings are you got to get the job done and that’s what we do. I mean, we all know Jones is the big bad and everybody’s gonna have to get involved to take care of him and we see that in our last episode. Those scenes are really fun to shoot. They were challenging but I think it’s gonna come together well and it’ll be a strong finish for us.

If you could create a tagline or a phrase of your own to describe Kyle as a character, what would you pick? Kyle Valenti: I’m there if you need me.

#michael trevino #kyle valenti #roswell new mexico #press #3x09 #rnm spoilers

[soulmate-game]

“Are you paw-sitive this is alright?” Selina half-purred half-asked. The slender cat thief was dressed casually— for her, anyway— in a floor length amethyst purple gown that swept just barely above the floor, accentuating her curves and coming down in a deep V neck that was just barely within the constraints of being acceptable for public appearances. Her companion, almost half a foot shorter even in her short heels, was a stark contrast. It was as if all the two women had in common was their hair color, a rich deep black that shimmered blue in the right lighting.

Marinette, with her hair done up in two buns and wearing a sensible pink-and-white cheongsam top with apple blossom embroidery paired with an ankle-length denim skirt that had a knee-high slit in the front, nodded even as she eyed her friend’s choice of outfit with a small frown.

“Of course. Bruce is in the media’s eye all the time, and he knows I don’t have a care for the spotlight. But you do,” Marinette stopped talking for a second, snapping her fingers and reaching into her purse. She pulled out a gorgeous inch-thick collar necklace that was made entirely of thick panels of flawless silver and high-quality diamond. At the very center of the collar necklace, where it would hang right in the center of Selina’s collarbone, was a diamond-and-obsidian cat face. “I knew I was forgetting something! Bourgeois owed me a favor for doing the outfit for her last magazine cover pro bono, so I asked for this as payment. It’s exactly what your outfit is missing.”

Just because Marinette didn’t like revealing clothing didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate someone else wearing one well, after all. And Selina wore her dress perfectly.

Selina quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the necklace with her expert gaze. Gently, she trailed her fingertips over the tops of the diamonds in the thick bands of the collar as a small smile flicked over her lips. She raised her eyes up to Marinette’s, light green eyes sparkling with mischief and knowing.

“You got this as a bribe for me, didn’t you kitten?”

Marinette smiled unashamedly. “I know you’re a proud lesbian, but would you mind playing the role of Bruce’s girlfriend, just for the media? And only while you’re single, of course. If you ever want out, you only have to say the word. Bruce already agreed, but he also doesn’t mind continuing to play the careless bachelor if you aren’t willing.”

Selina scoffed, rolling her eyes and grabbing the necklace. Effortlessly, she swung it around her neck and clasped it in place. “Please, darling. You and I both know it drives you up a wall when Brucie is hounded by gold diggers every time he steps foot out of that mansion of his. I’ll play the camera-girlfriend, but only for a maximum of a year. And you two can only call on me one a week at most, a girl’s gotta have some time to herself.”

Marinette nodded eagerly. “That’s fine! We probably won’t even call on you that much, Bruce is planning to play the ‘we want to keep our relationship pretty low-key’ card for now. Just an appearance once a month or two ought to satisfy those vampiric paparazzi.”

Selina just smiled. She had practically adopted Marinette years previous, during a trip to Paris where she had found out she apparently had a male doppelgänger. Now the two were sisters in all but official (Not-forged) legal documents. And because of that, Bruce had somehow become her brother.

Which Bruce later found out, meant that Selina would relentlessly tease him every time she needed to appear as his “girlfriend.”

Relentlessly.

But Marinette and Bruce had a Plan. She wasn’t quite ready to make a public appearance as his real girlfriend, mostly because of loose ends that still had to be tied back in France. She was making so many trips back and forth between the two countries that they couldn’t see each other in person much to begin with, so they also didn’t want their few in-person meetings tainted by greedy D-rate journalists.

But yes, they had a Plan. One year was the perfect time frame for the last stretch of said plan. Marinette would tie up the last few things she had to do in Paris, start an official branch of her fashion company in Gotham, and they would stage an entire break-up with Selina, a three-month “break” to “recover” and then a suitably dramatic, romantic “meet-cute” between the two of them to start what the media would see as a love-at-first-sight, fairytale relationship.

Nobody needed to know about Marinette and Bruce’s five-year pining session, or their one-year fumble through figuring out how to date one another before actually getting it right, or the most recent three-years of dealing with the fact that they were both highly experienced hero/vigilantes, the leaders of their own hero teams, and highly accomplished business people.

It was a hard relationship utterly riddled with drama, but they had finally reached the stable point where they were ready to commit. Sort of. They just needed Selina to fake-date Bruce in the public eye for a couple months, and then everything would be fine.

—*—*—*—*—*

One year and three months later.

Marinette shifted her purse on her shoulder. This would be her first time in over five years actually setting foot inside the Wayne Manor. She was excited to see Alfred again, and to hash out the last details for her and Bruce’s public “meet-cute.” But Alfred didn’t open the door this time, a short green-eyed boy with an all-too-familiar frown on his face did.

And once again, Marinette knew that Selina was not the mother. Her pseudo-sister was, as she had said so long ago, a very proud lesbian. But Marinette did know of a past fling of Bruce’s who did possess the proper genes to help create a child of this age.

Marinette smiled, pushing her inner rage at the thought of Talia Al Ghul out of her mind. She was still pissed beyond all rational thought when she heard about what Talia had done to Bruce. But this child was not at fault for any of it, only an innocent by-product.

“Hello. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Would you mind telling Alfred I’m here?”

“Tt. Why should I?” The apparently bratty boy asked, crossing his arms and glaring straight at her. Marinette felt her eye twitch.

“I am a close friend of Bruce— Would I be correct in assuming he’s your biological father?” Immediately upon her question, the boy’s eyes widened ever so slightly in shock before his glare intensified. Marinette chuckled. “He didn’t tell me that he adopted any new children, and he always tells me when he adopts. Which means he didn’t have to adopt you, suggesting you are related to him directly. You can’t be a cousin or nephew, he has no living blood family. And all his pseudo-siblings are alive and fine, so you weren’t left to his care in anybody’s will,” she deduced out loud for him. “Plus, the green eyes and tan skin— I know of exactly one of Bruce’s past… suitors… who happens to fit the timeframe and features necessary.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Most assume that I am that harlot Selina Kyle’s spawn,” he snapped, but it lacked the same heat this time around. He was now analyzing her face closely, and Marinette noticed. She was careful to keep her eagerness toned down. She really just wanted to see Bruce and be able to hug and cuddle him for the first time in almost a year, and this child was her only obstacle at the moment. A very stubborn one.

Marinette sighed. “Selina is like a sibling to me, don’t call her a harlot. If Selina was ever pregnant, I would have known. Hell, Selina would have given me her baby to raise because she doesn’t have any interest in being a mother. Now, the polite thing to do when someone introduces themselves is so introduce yourself back. Not interrogate or intimidate them.”

The boy huffed, straightening his emerald turtleneck and rolling his shoulders back. “I am Damian Wayne,” he replied imperiously. “And Father has never mentioned a friend by the name Marinette. Which leads me to believe you are yet another no good hopeful suitor, and Father is still recovering after he and Kyle finally split up for good.”

Marinette froze, and slowly her eyes narrowed. “He never mentioned my name? Ever?”

“Tt. I already said no.”

Finally, the shape of Alfred Pennyworth came into view behind Damian. He had obviously heard the last bit of the conversation, because he just sighed and shared a long suffering look with Marinette. It was that look that made Marinette’s eye twitch a second time.

“Alfred,” she said slowly. “Has he mentioned me at all to any of his kids?”

“He has not,” Alfred replied. “And furthermore, Miss Selina would not stop giving him a hard time whenever he had to call her out for an appearance. It seems all of the children mistook their relationship for actually being of a romantic nature.”

Damian spun to the butler, eyes wide and swimming with a multitude of emotions. “What do you mean, ‘actually’, Alfred?”

“He means,” Marinette began before Alfred had the chance. Her eyes were narrowed, matching storms of dark, furious blue. “That Selina was only pretending to be Bruce’s girlfriend so that the press and gold-diggers would leave him alone. And apparently I need to beat some sense into my stupid, idiotic boyfriend, who I should have known would do something like this,” she looked up at Alfred, jaw clenching. “That man would never be able to pass for a functioning human without either you or me keeping his head screwed on. Where is he?”

“Not at the manor currently, Mademoiselle Marinette.”

“Alfred.”

The butler gave Marinette a rather mischievous little grin. “Master Bruce has forbade me from telling you where he is currently, he wanted you to stay at the manor and sleep the jet lag off until he got back. But I can tell you that he is not currently on Earth or on a mission.”

“Alfred!” Damian hissed, shocked that the man would say something so revealing. Alfred was the perfect secret keeper, why would he tell someone Bruce had never mentioned something so telling?”

“Oh, calm yourself Master Damian,” Alfred soothed. “Marinette has known about Master Bruce’s nighttime activities since before you were born. If anything, I believe he rightfully deserves the wake up call he is about to receive.”

Marinette nodded, eyes still stormy and determined. “Alright, so he’s at the Watchtower. The Zeta tunes are still in the Batcave, right?” When Alfred nodded, Marinette wasted no time. She easily slid around Damian and stormed into the manor, finding her way to the Batcave on pure muscle memory and rage.

“Wait, Alfred! I demand an explanation!” Damian’s loud voice slowly grew quieter as Marinette stormed down into the cave, ignoring how Alfred began to calmly explain the situation to the boy. She just slid right in to the Zeta tube, and commanded the computer to send her to the Watchtower.

“P-001, codename LADYBUG, recognized.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Batman pinched his nose from where he stood at the head of the meeting room in the watchtower. The briefing was supposed to start over an hour ago, but Hal Jordan had been twenty minutes late. No surprise there. But still, SuperMan had insisted that they wait until everyone arrived. And really, normally Batman would too. Except that his long time girlfriend was going to be landing in Gotham any minute now, and he would rather be back at the manor to greet her.

And the asinine argument that had been going on for the past forty minutes was finally going to end, even if Bruce had to hogtie every last one of his insufferable coworkers himself and force them through the rest of the meeting strapped to their chairs.

“Okay, can we PLEASE begin the meeting now, or so help me I will break out my kryptonite restraints,” he threatened darkly. He might have only mentioned Kryptonite, but everyone knew that that threat was actually aimed at all of them. Batman knew every last one of their weaknesses and was not above being petty when they strained his last nerve.

Quickly getting the hint, the entire room rushed to fill their seats and at least fake at paying attention. But of course, nothing goes quite right in the life of Bruce Wayne. Right as he turned on the slideshow he had prepared and began the meeting, the sound of an enraged woman’s voice echoed down the hallway in a deafening roar.

“BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE, YOU ARE IN SOOOO MUCH TROUBLE!”

Batman felt as if someone had just shoved him into a cryogenic freezer, a harsh shiver of dread running down his spine. There was exactly one person who could terrify him with a single word, and it just so happened to be the woman he was hiding a wedding ring from.

For the past eight years, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Oh shit,” Bruce breathed, but found he was unable to move from his spot. Yes, he wanted to see Marinette so badly that it hurt. But he also would like to stay alive.

SuperMan leaned forward, not really concerned since Batman would have reacted much differently had the voice been coming from a real threat. Instead, the man leveled his old friend with a very teasing smirk.

“Why is your heart suddenly racing?”

Bruce could only glare daggers at Clark before the door to the meeting room swung open, a tiny French woman standing there in a long, formal white-and-pink knee-length gown with a cheongsam neckline and one of her leaf-green heels held in each hand threateningly.

“You absolute idiot! When I said I wanted to keep our relationship out of the public eye, I didn’t mean to keep me a secret from EVERYBODY!”

“But darling—“ Bruce cut himself off as he was forced to dodge one deadly-accurate piece of flying footwear. “You don’t understand. The boys cannot keep a secret to save their life.”

“They have secret identities, don’t they?” She slipped her other shoe back on. She had known that her shoe never had a chance of hitting, and with Bruce in full Batman gear, even if it had hit him the high heel would have felt like she had only thrown a pillow. Had it been otherwise, she wouldn’t have even joked about throwing her shoes at him. But as it stood, she knew none of the normal things she had on her would be able to so much as make Bruce say “ow.”

Marinette placed both of her fists on her hips, marching up to Batman and pulling him down the full foot it took for him to be able to look her in the eye. His resulting gulp was clearly audible, and visible, to everyone else in the room. “You absolute, emotionally dense moron,” her voice had dropped from a yell to a mildly fond, but still very annoyed, grumble. “Your kids are mostly adults now, you know. And you never told me about Damian either. Did you honestly think I’d be mad?” Bruce looked away from her, which was honestly all the answer she needed. Marinette sighed, letting him go and softening her voice. “You need to trust your kids more, Bruce. I never wanted you to keep me a secret from your family, or even your close friends. Just the annoying ass paparazzi. And trust me a little bit more, yeah? I know it isn’t exactly your strong suit, but I’ve known you long enough that you should know I’m not gonna run for the hills just because you have a biological kid that wasn’t with me.” Marinette risked giving him a slightly vulnerable, lopsided smile. And Bruce immediately deciphered what it meant. His shoulders slumped.

The cost of using the Ladybug Miraculous for so long was that Marinette had to give up her fertility. She could never have children of her own, and Bruce had felt guilty that he had had a biological child, even though he hadn’t exactly consented to it, without her. But now he could see where he went wrong.

Marinette was just happy to have another piece of him to take care of. She never would have resented him for what had happened with Talia. And, seeing all of those facts written on her face now, he felt more than a little blind.

“... sorry.”

Marinette just huffed out a short, soft laugh before grabbing Bruce by the bicep. She turned to look at the other heroes still in the room, half of them uncomfortable with seeing such an emotional display while the others looked like they were incredibly invested in a good soap opera. She shot them a grin.

“I’m stealing him for the next few days, okay? Don’t worry, I’m sure you can make do with making Diana read the slideshow. I know from experience that it has everything you guys need to know and more. Don’t call us, I’ll field all your contact to Agent A!!” With that, she dragged Bruce by the arm out of the room.

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly resisting. Even if the reunion was far from ideal, just having this little bit of contact was extremely relaxing for the vigilante. When they reached the Zeta Tubes, he stopped Marinette and pulled her in for a kiss.

When they inevitably pulled away for breath, he smiled at her. “As soon as we get back, I’ll call everyone in and explain the situation,” he promised. “And then, we can spend the rest of the night doing whatever you want.”

Marinette smiled back, shoving him into the Zeta Tube. “Then get ready, because I wanna sleep off this damn jet lag and I plan on cuddling you like a koala the whole time. No escape.”

“B-001, Codename BATMAN. Recognized.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied right before he was whisked off. The sound of the love of his life laughing followed him through until he reached the other end of the teleportation.

—*—*—*—*—*

@maribat-writing-and-prompts

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #brucinette

[emwritesfootball]

Her Majesty's Men 2 | Mason Mount

Word Count: 1,512

Warnings: mentions of drugs, but that's about it. An intro to the Men

- - -

Notting Hill, London, England

Declan double- and triple-checks the address that Mason sent him as he walks the streets of Notting Hill. It’s for a pub he’s never been to before, but he’s heard rumours about a secret underground club modeled after the American Prohibition Era that has exotic dancers.

“Dec! Hey!” Mason greets Declan the moment he walks into the pub. “How have you been?”

Declan shrugs, hating that he has to break the news to Mason like this. The two of them grew up at Chelsea’s Academy together, remaining friends even when Dec got let go. A few years later, Mason was let go, too, and the boy in front of him seems to be doing fairly well. “West Ham let me go last week.”

Mason curses, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, mate. Can’t believe they can just let us go like we’re expendable.”

“Yeah.” Declan smiles ruefully, sighing. “I’m staying with my sister but I know she wants me to get a job - I want to get a job - but I don’t know where to start. I remember at that party last year with the rest of the Chelsea Dropouts where you mentioned something about working for the Queen and-” Declan pauses, confused as to why Mason is howling with laughter. “What’s so funny?”

“You think- ahaha - you think I work for the Queen?! Oh, my god!” Mason wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. “I guess you could say I work for Liz, but not in the way you think that I do…”

“Liz? You call the Queen by a nickname?!”

Mason snorts, the laughter threatening to return again. “How about I show you instead?” He looks at his watch, draining his beer, and Declan finds himself doing the same thing. “Follow me, Deccers.”

Declan follows, his mind slightly occupied with the fact that he saw Mason drop two £20 bills on two pints at the bar before walking away.

The rumours were true. Declan can’t figure out how he couldn’t hear the raucous laughter and thumping bass from the DJ in the booth. He’s pretty sure he recognizes the DJ, but he’s impossible to place from so far away. Instead, Declan focuses on Mason, watching as his ex-teammate weaves through the crowd. It’s all women, he realizes, but then someone slaps his ass as he walks past and he turns to find an older woman looking at him appreciatively.

“Are you one of them?” She asks, shouting over the music.

“Who?” Declan responds, confused.

Before she can reply, Declan feels Mason’s hand wrap around his wrist and pull him through a door. The music dampens, seeping through the door, but only to provide a backdrop. “Don’t stop for the vultures, mate. Although, I think that one’s more of a cougar than anything.” He laughs at his own joke, shaking his head.

“Hush! Like you haven’t thrown yourself to the cougars more times than any of us!” Jack Grealish’s Brummie accent gets Declan’s attention.

“Sod off!” Mason rolls his eyes, turning to Declan. “Don’t pay Jacky Boy any mind - he’s just here for the brainless hen party pussy. You might remember him from a couple friendlies between our academy teams, but I guarantee you that Jacky here probably doesn’t remember you; poor boy doesn’t even remember his own name half the time.”

Jack flips off Mason, but he keeps talking. “These are the lads that make up Her Majesty’s Men. We’re all football-academy rejects, so it’s like a family since we all know what the other’s been through. Stonesy - you’ll meet him in a bit - kinda brought us all together. It was pretty much his idea.”

Declan looks around the room, realizing where he is. The room looks like a changing room except instead of kits and boots and training gear, there’s costumes everywhere. A ratty futon that’s seen better days is against one of the walls; Jack ‘Jacky Boy’ Grealish sits on it, and something about the way he’s sitting on it tells Declan that the futon isn’t for anyone but the ex-Villa Academy player.

“Right. Anyway, this is Happy Ending Harry. Gave his youth to Tottenham, but she was a cruel mistress.” There’s a mirror with lightbulbs around it that looks like it was either stolen from Marilyn Monroe or a fifteen-year-old girl, Declan isn’t sure which. Harry Winks sits in front of the mirror, checking out his reflection as he puts on...blush? Declan wants to ask but can’t bring himself to form the words. Harry’s too lost in his own world to do much of anything, almost resembling a Ken doll in a way that both intrigues and intimidates Declan.

“Big Dick Dier. Loaned from Portugal to Everton, but you can see how that turned out. Man can speak at least two languages but there’s not a woman out there who cares about that once they catch a glimpse of what the Big Man is packing.” Eric Dier picks himself up off the floor after doing a round of push-ups, giving Declan a nod in greeting and going back to the sewing machine to work on… a g-string? Declan’s a little disgusted but he’s glad he’s not the one handling that. The man’s wide shoulders and large hands radiate Big Dick Energy and Declan would be lying to himself if he wasn’t at least a little curious to take a peek at that pecker.

“Last but not least: Tarzan Ty.” A man with dreads stands in one corner, stretching. He’s got tattoos and a massive scar on his knee that Declan’s curious about but knows better than to ask about. He looks familiar but he’s definitively older than the rest of the lads Declan has met so he’s not sure he recognizes him from any sort of training academy. Mason starts his introduction, but Ty cuts him off.

“Tyrone Mings,” he says, introducing himself for Declan. “Southampton Youth ‘til oh-nine. They let me go ‘cause I was too short - joke’s on them.” Ty laughs and Declan joins in. “Got a serious question,” he continues, shoving his non-scarred knee in Declan’s face. “That look ashy to you?”

“Uh…”

“Here,” Mason giggles, tossing him a bottle of what looks like self-tanner but Declan doesn’t question it, squirting out some of the lotion and preparing to massage it into Ty’s knee. It’s the oddest thing he’s done since being let go, but Declan just tells himself that he’s rubbed weirder substances on his own joints. He realizes that Mason was right - this place, this group of ex-footballers, really does feel like a family. He’s only been here a few minutes but already the camaraderie is there. Big Dick Dier teases Happy Ending Harry’s appearance like the two of them were teammates at Tottenham or something; Tarzan Ty has what appears to be a ritual, shoving Declan’s hands off his knee once he realizes the new boy was actually going to do it.

���So, here’s how it works. We do a group act first, then solos, followed by hot seats. If everything goes well, we get these birds all jacked up and then we raise the price of the hot seats so don’t fuck it all up for us, all right? That’s it, that’s all ya gotta do.” Declan tries to focus on what Mason is saying but it’s damn near impossible as he watches Eric stick his dick inside of the contraption and start to pump, his cock stretching to an absurd length. He quickly realizes that Eric’s got his dick inside a penis pump, watching as the big man’s already-big cock grows like the Grinch’s heart. Eric’s sporting the most insane look, his jaw slack but his eyes intense like he’s focused on something else, taking deep breaths as his cock stretches longer.

A voice entering the room cuts Mason off, the DJ coming into view. He’s speaking, but Declan can’t understand him. “This is Kyle, our DJ. Kyle, Deccers; Deccers, Kyle. He’s gonna be giving you the cue before each act.” Kyle hands Mase a water bottle filled with something and Mason’s eyes light up. “Pregame! That’s what I’m talking about!”

“It’s the love potion,” Kyle says in a weird voice, giving Declan a wide-eyed look.

“What is this? Strawberry?” Mason inspects it, pouring some of it into the cap and downing it.

“It’s a little mixture,” Kyle explains at Declan’s confused expression. “Got the recipe from a friend in Miami. He calls it Hey Juice.” Declan’s been around enough drugs to know that it’s GHB, but he keeps his mouth shut. “If you drink the whole bottle you’ll go ‘Hey!’” He flamboyantly sways and snaps his fingers. “You’re gonna like it, bro. Give it a sample.”

Declan holds up his hands, taking a step back. “I’m good, mate. Maybe tomorrow night?”

“That’s cool. More for me, I guess.” Mason shrugs, downing another cap.

The sounds of the crowd cheering start to seep through the walls, a man’s voice coming through too. “All right, all right, all right!”

“That’s Stonesy. Let’s get you ready.”

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