#but if anyone comes across this and wants to give their two cents i will gladly accept it

[strangersmunsons]

okay so I'm trying to work out an internal conflict I'm having over one of my WIPs:

I have a Rockstar!Eddie AU in mind, where the reader character is also a musician. and they're heavily inspired by (okay fine, more like blatantly based on) a real person, one of my favorite artists ever, and I can't tell if that's like...crossing a line, somehow? if that's too embarrassing and self-indulgent to write and put it out there for the world to see?

the musician in question is very unique and maybe a little obscure compared to more mainstream artists, but nonetheless they have a devoted fanbase with a presence on tumblr. and I'm scared that if I ever were to complete the fic and post it, someone who knows them will come across it and instantly think it's the most cringe shit ever, in which case I'll just have to completely obliterate my blog and disappear

#lou.txt #don't mind me lol just having sum thots #but if anyone comes across this and wants to give their two cents i will gladly accept it #eddie munson x reader

[mrs-kmikaelson]

01| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader, Marcel Gerard x reader (platonic) Summary: While you're away on an impromptu break, Marcel comes to try and get you to come back to help him face the Mikaelsons who just so happen to be your long lost family (but no else knows that). Warnings: none Words: 3.2K

Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: i guess this kinda fits in with season one, but it's more of an AU than anything. so, it has elements of the s1 plot, like the marcel and klaus feud, the hope plot, but the villains from s1 won't really be present. like i said, AU. but without further adieu, on we go.

New Orleans was a land of plastic beads and festivals for days–a tourist attraction, which basically meant a blood bank. I knew what lurked in the shadows, what whispered through the grapevine behind the music, but Originals... I didn't know they were back.

Word travels fast around the Quarter, but I haven't been there; I was in Mystic Falls, too busy following up on a lead about the Mikaelsons to even realize that they were at the place I started, my home. 

Marcel wouldn't stop talking about it. As soon as I got back, I was flooded with information and, as soon as I got back, I could hear the whispers from a mile away. Most reactions to the arrival of such a family were scared, livid, shocked, but I was none of the above.

I didn't have a thing to say back to Marcel, not a thing to say to the people who were suddenly confusing me with Rebekah Mikaelson. I didn't have an inch of emotion about it, not surprise, not fear. I mean, how could anyone be surprised? How could I be surprised, scared?

How could I be surprised by my own family?

"Klaus needs to learn his place." I internally rolled my eyes at Marcel's, basically, monologue, continuing to sift through pages of the magazine in my hands. "He's outta line." 

Klaus Mikaelson was always out of line– he had no line, no boundaries. He was Klaus Mikaelson and that was the only line there was, but I didn't say that. When Marcel was having one of his tantrums, I learned to just listen to him; interrupting or putting my own two cents in just made the conversation longer and I only wanted it to end. 

"He thinks he can just kick me out of the Quarter, out of my home, the bastard. Who does he think he is?" Rhetorical question, I had to remind myself, holding my tongue. The former king of New Orleans was sitting across from me at a coffee shop in New York. A coffee shop.

He was calling this his 'vacation' but we both knew that the only reason he was here was because boss man told him to leave. Honestly, I don't know why I'm here. I'm supposed to be in a university class, but it doesn't really matter if I can just compel the grade, right?

I was doing psych this time; Cami's always saying all these things to me about how she thinks my brain works and I honestly want to learn how it does. Saying I have a PhD might actually get me a significant other, but, knowing myself, the whole triangle of creatures thing might freak them out. 

At least I haven't gone as low as Marcel.

"Y'know, just because that ass is an Original doesn't mean he's suddenly the shit." 

This time, I didn't bother trying to hide the roll of my eyes, continuing to flip through my magazine as I responded. "Uh... it kinda does." I could feel his glare on my forehead as my eyes widened at Kim K's ass. Not even being a Vampire gives you that- "And, Marcel, I don't know if you've realized it yet, but he isn't just an Original."

I looked up at him for the first time since his rant started and gave him a pointed look. Sometimes, he didn't think with his head. 

Marcel shrugged like he was saying, 'so what' silently. "Tyler what's-his-name is a hybrid, too."

I raised a brow at him. "A hybrid turned by Klaus, and wasn't he the guy who tried to kill Klaus' wife or whatever, inadvertently but intentionally trying to kill himself, and then failed?" 

"Not the point, Y/N/N." The fuck it isn't- "The point is that the man is such a dick because his is so small." Gross. Didn't need to hear that.

"Didn't he adopt you or something?"

"Is that all you're getting from what I'm saying?"

I made a face at him, putting my magazine down on the table. "Can I be honest and say I don't get anything from this conversation?"

He deadpanned, "You're annoying."

"Glad you're just now figuring that out, Cellie." I got up from my seat, patting him on his back. "Please, though, go have this talk with Camille instead."

I started walking away, but Marcel only got up and began following me out, making me hold in a groan. God, men, they can never take a damn hint.

"Hey, where you headed?" He asked, but he dismissed his own question just as quick as I would've. "And aren't you supposed to talk to me and help me figure out my problems? You're studying psych, aren't you?"

I scoffed, "Yeah, people usually pay for a psychiatrist to talk to them." Honestly, I don't know why Marcel was here. With a God complex like his, you'd expect him to stay and, y'know, get himself killed. It's not like him to use his brain so suddenly.

He could've gone to damn Vegas, maybe LA, but he just has to come to where I am, right after I leave. He's getting a break from his 'Kingly' duties; Klaus is taking that off his hands, so why isn't he enjoying it and taking an actual vacation instead of visiting me and calling it a holiday? I'm not the Eiffel Tower, for Pete's sake.

It's a power struggle. People like him, came from the bottom and wanted nothing more than to be at the top, fighting against people like Originals, who had been where my friend wanted to be since the beginning of time. 

Marcel didn't want to admit he was playing a losing game.

"You telling me to go home, Y/L/N?"

I rolled my eyes. What gave it away? "Precisely, Gerard."

I was just about to make it to my car when Marcel sped in front of me. I looked up at the sky and pinched my eyes. God, he was insufferable. Honestly, it shouldn't have surprised me that he came all this way just to bitch. But what he said next did surprise me.

"Come back with me, then."

My eyes snapped open and I stared at him incredulously. What the fuck.

I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating and Cellie slapped my arm. "C'mon, Y/N/N. It'll be funnnnnnnnn." The way he dragged out the word did not convince me in the slightest.

I got over my shock and voiced my thoughts. "You want me to come back because you think drama with the Mikaelsons is- fun?"

He was quick with his response. "It could be." He then snorted. "Hell, I'd love to see Klaus' reaction to a girl like you, stronger than him-" I cut him off with my magic, his lips slamming shut immediately. It was only a temporary thing, just stops a person from speaking for a second, so he'd be able to continue right after, but he got the point and shut up.

I've known Marcel for close to fifty years. Met him in the seventies. He tried to kill me and I knocked him off his feet with a classic telekinesis spell. Since then, he's known about who I am and he's also decided that he's better off having me on his team. Whatever the hell that means.

I usually like to keep the whole tribrid thing under wraps, hence why I got Marcel to stop talking.

I gave him a look. "Klaus wouldn't have any reaction what I am, because he wouldn't know." Apparently, my gaze conveyed my message well enough because Marcel raised his hands in surrender. 

"Okay, okay," he conceded. "No one's gotta know. But you should come back anyway."

I can't say I haven't thought about it. I know I can't stay out in New York forever. 

I rolled my eyes. I can't believe I'm actually giving thought to something Marcel says. "Okay, gimme time and I'll think about it."

He grinned and pointed finger guns at me, walking backwards away from me. "Think it over and we'll talk about it tomorrow." He turned around and walked away with a kick in his step before he disappeared completely, moving too fast for the human eye to detect.

I sighed and shook my head, the smallest of smiles growing on my face. Ah, Marcel. 

I pulled out my keys, walking to my car and thinking about what he asked. 

It's sorta odd, I suppose. Considering how long I've been watching the Mikaelsons, you'd think I'd be the first one there in New Orleans, keeping tabs on them, but the only way I knew about their escapades was from Marcel who told me voluntarily.

That was one thing he didn't know about me; no one did. No one knew about my connection to the Mikaelsons, not even the Mikaelsons themselves, which is partially why I don't wanna go back to NOLA just yet.

My apartment's in the Quarter, way too close to the Abbatoir and, according to Marcel, that's now Original HQ. It's too risky, my rational side said.

Yet, the other part of me that spent almost my entire life tracking them, being infatuated with them, thinks that being so close to them would be favourable. 

And, like most times, the irrational part of my brain wins the battle in decision-making.

Fuck. Marcel's gonna have to buy me a lot of alcohol for this one.

Walking through the quarter again is like that human expression 'like riding a bike.' I've obviously never ridden a bike, but I get what the expression is meant to say. It's referring to doing something that comes naturally to you.

That's what this is.

Marcel is beside me as we walk past both all the tourists and locals. It's easy to tell the difference between the two. I compelled movers earlier to unload all my stuff back into my apartment so I have nothing to worry about other than getting reacquainted with my city.

The path we took eventually led us to Rousseau's and as soon as we entered my eyes scanned the bar for Cami, who I know for a fact Marcel is obsessed with. But she's way too good for him.

I went and sat down at the bar and waited for her to come our way. She wasn't paying much attention when she came over, wiping down some glasses. "Hey, what can I getcha?"

"The usual." Her head shot up when she heard me and a smile broke out on her face. "Y/N/N?" She put down what she was holding and came around the counter, embracing me in a hug. "Oh my God, I thought you were gonna be stuck in the big apple for a while still."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well Marcel happened to- no, nevermind, Marcel just happened." She let out a laugh and went back around the counter, greeting Marcel and getting to work on our drinks.

"Well, I'm glad you're back," she said.

Marcel inserted himself into the conversation and I tuned them out after that, letting the two of them flirt. Cami probably didn't define it as flirting, but she definitely was.

I think she liked Marcel, but she was in denial about it. I get why though. She didn't wanna fall for a guy that was bad news and she had doubts about him, reasonable doubts.

But beyond the vampirism and ego, I knew Marcel would treat her right. That's why I got up from my seat straight after downing my drink, catching their attention. 

"Hey, I'm gonna head out, It's getting late anyways and I still have to unpack." Marcel rose a brow at me, knowing I didn't have to unpack shit, but he should be grateful. I'm basically cupid and I'm shooting them both right now.

Cami gave a little sigh. "You just got here, though-"

"I'll be back tomorrow morning, promise!" I smiled at her for emphasis and she untensed and reciprocated the action.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then." Her and Cellie both waved bye to me and I walked out the door. God, I was just itching to get out of there. The tension between them was suffocating me. 

I put my hands into my pockets and glanced at the sky that had darkened significantly from when Marcel and I entered the bar. I guess we were there for longer than I thought.

There weren't really any tourists left walking around, only a few people that actually lived in the area. No vampires were allowed to fuck with the locals and, besides, most of the locals were witches, anyways. 

Even humans like Cami should be safe walking through the Quarter at night, but even then, if you didn't know about the supernatural while living in NOLA then you were in a whole other kind of danger. Knowledge is power.

Even if you were a witch, that was still risky. And if you were a werewolf, then forget it. Vampires were the only people without fear nowadays, it seemed.

Luckily, or unfortunately, I was all three creatures. 

"Back off," My ears picked up the sound of a girl growling. My eyes hadn't found her yet, but my nose worked faster. Werewolf.

Whoever she was talking to seemed to have that ability as well and murmured, "You're a werewolf." He was shaken but then he laughed, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you." Vampire.

Damnit, my first day back in the Quarter and, already, I'm dealing with the remnants of drama caused by Marcel. I sighed, thinking it's none of my damn business. But I could hear the sound of that girl's heart pitter pattering and I knew I couldn't just ignore it.

Motherfucker.  

I rolled my eyes and strained my ears a little more to guide me to where they were, my senses leading me to an alleyway where the wolf girl and the vampire stood. His back was facing me so he couldn't see me, but the girl caught my gaze and her eyes widened.

The vampire's head cocked. "What are you looking at?" Just as he turned to face me, I ran up to him and snapped his neck. His body fell to the floor with an ungraceful thump and I pushed a lock of hair away from my face, looking up to the girl who wore an expression of shock.

I had a sarcastic comment in my head that I felt like saying, but honestly, I just wanted to go home so I pushed it to the side and gave her a serious look. "You shouldn't walk all alone in the Quarter at night. It can be dangerous."

She shook off her surprise and stood taller, scoffing, "I can handle myself." Oh, for sure, I thought. This time, I was gonna speak my thoughts, but a heartbeat caught me by surprise. I held back a stagger and looked down to her stomach where the little thumping was coming from. 

A pregnant werewolf.

My stare remained on her stomach as I cautioned, "You really shouldn't be out in the Quarter on your own. Especially if you're pregnant." I looked back up to her when her arms quickly wrapped themselves around her stomach. 

She was a little more reserved now, stepping away from me a little and saying, "Trust me, I've got people looking out for me."

I snorted. "And where are they?"

She didn't reply, instead she only wrapped her arms around herself tighter. I get it; werewolves oughta be careful with vampires in this city and she thinks I'm a vampire- or just a vampire, rather. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it. "I'll call the baby's father now and he'll come get me." She kept staring at me for a few more seconds before adding, "So thank you, really, but I'll be fine now." Translation: please go away. 

I nodded at her and turned around as she began dialling. I wanted to get home anyway and I didn't need to stick around to see any baby daddy drama. Since that girl was a werewolf, baby daddy was probably some form of supernatural and therefore huge ego. Entertaining, but could get annoying.

I continued back on the route to my apartment per usual, passing by a few people and a few other neighbours I waved to. I knew all the locals, and I know for a fact girl doesn't live in the Quarter for two reasons. One, I don't know her, and two, werewolves aren't exactly welcome in the Quarter.

Of course, I'm a werewolf too, but no one knows that.

Knowing that werewolves aren't welcome here makes me wonder if she knew that, makes me wonder why she's here in the first place but as soon as my mind starts wandering, I steer myself back, reminding myself it really is none of my business. 

I'll probably never see her again, anyway.

Sooner than not, I make it to my townhouse. Just before I'm about to go up the steps to the door, I stop and turn to the side, staring out at all the other houses and little shops. If I walked a little further, I'd make it to the compound that was no longer Marcel's territory.

If I walked a little further, the Mikaelsons would be right there. And should they ever walk this way, they might just see me.

I shook my head and walked up the steps, opening my door. 

The Mikaelsons are a problem for another day. Right now, I'm going to bed.

When I wake up the next day, it's noon and someone is calling me. I picked up the phone without checking the caller ID, knowing who it was anyway. "Yes, Marcel?" I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and turned over so the sun wasn't fucking my eyeballs.

"Ooh, you sound happy to hear my voice."

"Just elated, Cellie." I stuck my head into my pillow and grumbled, "Elated."

Marcel snickered. "Well, good because we have a party to go to."

My head moves up from the pillow. "What?" Marcel threw parties all the time, but since he lost his power, he didn't have anywhere to throw one.

"It's a Mikaelson bash." My breath got caught in my throat at the mention of the name, but Marel didn't notice, continuing on with bitterness in his voice. "It's to show the city who's in charge now."

I quickly got over the Mikaelson name drop like usual and probed, "But aren't you supposed to be banished from the Quarter?" I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. "Going to that thing just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Sure, you could view it like that, but Klaus won't try anything while we're there."

"And why's that?"

"Because the party's supposed to be a symbol for peace, too. We'll be fine. Plus, I need a date."

I held back a snort. "What, Cami's busy?"

"She's working the bar tonight," he replied. "So you've gotta come with me."

I felt a sigh coming on. For fuck's sake, I just got back. I wasn't expecting this to happen yet.

I was gonna contemplate for a while longer but Marcel didn't give me that time. Instead, he just quickly told me he'd be picking me up at 8 and hung on me, making me gasp.

Son of a bitch.

#klaus x reader #klaus x daughter!reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #the originals #tvd #tvdu #tvd fandom #angsty imagine #camille o'connell

[dust-and-grave]

hng, i am so frustrated by this whole watcher tv situation. i've been chewing on it ever since i watched their announcement video yesterday + i've been looking around online at other fan reactions. i'm having a lot of thoughts so i guess i want to throw my two cents in + hope it'll make me feel better to talk about it a little.

i think we all agree that creators should be paid fairly for their work; however, not all work is created equal, right? if i commission an experienced (and thus high-demand) artist to do an oil painting of my cat, they might quote me $500+ to do that + it would be fair. if an artist with substantially less experience (and thus in lower demand) spends 30 seconds on a crayon rendition of my cat, should they also received $500+ for their work? i think most people would agree that would be ridiculous.

in some ways, this is what it feels like the watcher team is doing to us right now, imo. we know that shows like ghost files or puppet history are expensive to make because travel costs (in the case of ghost files) + production costs, but we can see the effort put into the work. we feel that what we give for the show, whether that's turning off ad blocker while watching or buying show merch or supporting via patreon, is going toward making the product that we are asking for. these shows are the oil painting in the metaphor.

i don't agree with how mean + rude some people are being about steven lim rn, but frankly, his shows are the 30 second crayon drawing of the watcher channel. anyone can look at the view count on their channel + see that his shows consistently have performed worse than shane + ryan's shows. additionally, we can see that he blows huge amounts of money on his shows ("$913 seafood tower", "$1027 fried chicken") that may leave a lot of viewers feeling as if they're aren't getting as much bang for their buck.

frankly, i think people are valid for being upset that they're expected to directly foot the bill for steven's "i fly all over the world + eat expensive food while you watch" project. while youtube has a shit ton of problems (like, say, not paying their creators enough), one of the cool things about it is that you can gauge directly the amount of the interest in a project (and how many resources you should dedicate to said project) by how many eyes are on it. unfortunately for him (i guess), steven's shows just don't garner enough attention to justify the expense of making them.

which is why i see this shift to watcher tv as such a problem. this feels very much like using shane + ryan's success on the channel to force fans to fuel steven's pursuit of his glory days on worth it. it feels even more strange when they say that they're making the switch because the company isn't currently sustainable, but steven has just hired his friends from buzzfeed + continues to push his series that just don't seem to be making back the cost of production.

to be totally fair, shane + ryan don't get out of this clean either. some of their shows don't deserve to be behind a paywall either. too many spirits is filmed in ryan's parent's backyard with content submitted by their viewers. are you scared is just ryan reading creepypastas/fan submitted content on a minimal set. survival mode is just them playing games like any other streamer or gaming youtuber does. i love all of these shows, but are they on par with puppet history or ghost files? absolutely not.

this is where i think the disconnect is coming from. they're taking everything including the lower production shows to a streaming service where you have to fund them directly (rather than indirectly through ad revenue). they're forcing funding into steven's projects despite them just not doing well enough to justify the cost. they're coming across as disingenuous with their reasoning because their stated reasons for doing this don't align with their actions rn.

i feel like it would've made so much more sense to crowdfund new seasons of shows (which gives them feedback from the fans about what they want too) or put higher cost shows like ghost files or puppet history on patreon or channel membership. i would gladly fund mystery files, weird wonderful world, ghost files, puppet history, etc. with my own money, but i'm one of the ones who isn't really interested in funding steven's quest to eat all of the gold-plated kobe beef when i'll never be able to afford to eat at a restaurant that even serves it.

#rachel says #watcher #shane madej #ryan bergara #steven lim #also it really bothered me that they dangled weird wonderful world over our heads to convince people to use the streaming service #it regularly got more views than all of steven's shows save dish granted #but they never picked it up again despite that #it just adds to the sense of betrayal that a lot of us are feeling rn i think

[luckypoppymilliemama]

I am seriously so saddened to realize people have used my name and my cat to steal money from some of you. This is crazy, never, ever did I think that my Poppy would be used negatively.

Let’s give a little rundown of who we are. I’m Michelle, a 30-something year old married mama to 3 skin kittens, and 3 fuzzy kittens. One of my skin kittens is an adult, the other two are rapidly approaching attempting to leave the nest. I am disabled, physically and mentally which leads to emotionally, too. My fuzzy kittens help a lot with that.

2 summers ago, a friend texted me asking if I wanted a kitten. Of course I did. Then I found out she was a feral kitten that her mama had left behind because her one back leg was missing a foot, so she couldn’t climb and jump like the rest of the kittens were, and she was getting too heavy to carry in her mouth. That kitten now only have 3 legs, and is my Lucky baby.

Come early February of the next year, I saw on a friend’s aunts rescue site two of the most gorgeous little calico kittens I had ever seen. I claimed them before Valentine’s Day, even though I wouldn’t be able to get them until after Mother’s Day since they were slow to grow. They were attached at the hip, there was no way I could get one and not the other. Those were my Poppy girl and Millie moon.

That’s how I ended up with my fuzzy kittens. They are the best fuzzy kittens I have ever met. All 3 of them have a different job in calming me and my middle daughter down while in emotional crisis. Poppy is and has always been that calming rumble that you try to concentrate on instead of everything else that is happening. And it works more than anyone would believe.

Poppy is sick. My go fund me has all the explanations and updates you could ever need; I even have to add the email with the vet when she gets a chance to email back to me. I have endless pictures and videos to show she is my little love.

Please, if you can, share this post anywhere and everywhere, across all forms of social media. My follower numbers are so low, I’m surprised it’s not a negative number. I know a bunch of you got scammed, and I’m sorry. I really am. If I could make it better, I would.

Myself, I’ve even cut back some of my less essential but still needed medications so I have the money to get Poppy the treatment she deserves. I just need my baby girl to be better. It’s time sensitive because we honestly don’t know how much time she has left with her red blood cell count being in the low 10s percent wise (I think it was 13-14% last time, and it should be above 35). I am extremely transparent in what I show you all because if you are helping pay for it, I figure you have a right to see where the care is going and what it’s being used for.

We are trying to get the maximum amount of funding so we can get all the testing done because the liver and spleen are just as important as the bone marrow biopsy, but we will not look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever we get it, it’s another cent that we didn’t have to scrounge around to find, another minute off the ever clicking clock.

Best ways to donate: to the hospital itself:

Philadelphia Animal Specialty and Emergency

Dial 267-727-3738, press 2, ask to place a credit on Poppy Riggs account, #FE22554C. All of this info is able to be found on the images in the gofundme.

The Gofundme. It is the *only* go fund me I have up. Anything else is a scam.

These account below are the only official ways to donate outside of the gofundme.

My email is listed below, and I am willing to answer any and all questions via email or on here, your choice.

Thank you so much for helping. It means everything to us.

#gofundme #go fund me #cats #cat #sick cat #sick cats #mutual aid #mutualaid #pretty cats #cats of tumblr #cats of instagram #cats of the day #cute cats #calico #calico cats #long post #longpost #disabled #mental heath issues #mental heath support #emotional support cat #emotional #support cat #doctor cat #therapy cat #donate #will the real poppy please stand up #please save poppy #real Poppy #please donate

[blueskrugs]

Written in the Sand | Tyson Jost

it’s finally here! I started this fic in September, thinking it would be a cute couple thousand words, and then finally finished it four months and almost 30,000 words later. 

huge thank you to @antoineroussel​ who held my hand through a lot of this and also did the hard work of beta reading and editing all of this. 

recommended listening: Written in the Sand by Old Dominion (where else would I get title and inspo from?), Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band, and The Dance by Garth Brooks.

length: 29.8k words (lol)

this fic has now been broken into chapters for easier reading 

Are we written in the stars, baby, or are we written in the sand?

Tyson never meant to catch feelings. Really. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. Then it happened again, and again, and somewhere along the line it turned into regular hooking up. And, well, anyone would tell you that Tyson wore his heart on his sleeve. It wasn’t long before he was falling fast and hard. 

Tyson looked across the couch at where she was dozing, wearing one of his T-shirts. His birthday was in a few days. He’d already resolved to ask her out for real before then. This stupid not-quite-friends-with-benefits shit was getting old. It needed to end one way or another, for Tyson’s sanity—and his heart. If he was going to get his heart broken anyway, why prolong the inevitable?

But he was getting ahead of himself. 

November

It’s early in the season, too early to be celebrating wins the way they are. But they blew out the Canucks and the Sharks in consecutive games and don’t have another one for four days, so Gabe dragged them all out to a bar. There’s something special about this team, Tyson can feel it, and so can the rest of the guys.

Which is how Tyson finds himself a couple beers and a shot or two deep on a Saturday night in November, with JT squished against his side in the booth. The team is extra loud to account for the fact that they’re in a crowded bar; EJ is across the table chirping Andre about something or other. Tyson settles in and takes another drink of his beer. 

JT elbows him in the ribs. Tyson elbows him back harder on principle. 

“No, idiot, there’s a cute girl over there,” JT says.

“You have a girlfriend,” Tyson says, not following. He tries to figure out which girl JT is talking about, but there’s a lot of girls in the bar. 

“You don’t,” JT points out, and, oh. 

“I’m not really looking for anything,” Tyson says, because it’s true. Especially not some hookup with a girl in a bar. He doesn’t really roll that way. He really wants to focus on having a good season here. He still doesn’t know which girl JT is talking about.

Gabe, the nosy asshole, leans over Cale to give his two cents. “Josty, I think you need another beer.”

Tyson glares at his unfortunately almost-empty beer bottle. He glances over at the bar again. This time, a girl catches his eye and gives him a small smile over her friend’s shoulder. She is kind of cute, Tyson supposes. Tyson heaves a sigh and elbows JT again to force him out of the booth. A small cheer goes up. He flips them off without turning around. 

It’s even more crowded at the bar, but Tyson manages to squeeze in near the girl and lean against the bar while he waits for a bartender. The person on his left leaves with their drink, and then he’s next to the girl. He wishes he knew her name. She smiles at him again. 

He’s about to lean in and introduce himself when a bartender comes over and asks for his order. She’s smirking at him when he turns back.

“All the beers in the world, and you’re drinking Coors?” she asks. She has to lean in close to be heard, and Tyson doesn’t mind it. He makes an outraged noise, which only makes her grin grow. “I’m Madison,” she says. 

“Listen, Madison,” Tyson starts, but he doesn’t actually have a great argument. He’s just not very picky when it comes to beers. He closes his mouth. Madison laughs at him and takes a sip of her drink. “And what’re you drinking, huh?” Something with a lime wedge on it. Red, maybe. The dim lighting makes it extra hard to see colors.

“All beer is gross, first of all,” she says. “Second of all, it’s a vodka cran.”

“Can I buy you another?” Tyson asks. Her glass is less vodka cran and more ice at this point.

On Madison’s other side, her friend groans. Tyson probably deserves that. Madison rolls her eyes at him. He deserves that, too.

“Real smooth,” she says. Tyson winks at her. “I don’t even know your name,” she points out. Oh, yeah.

“I’m Tyson,” he says. He sticks out a hand for handshake, and Madison takes it, though she raises an eyebrow and laughs at him again as she does it. 

“Okay, Tyson,” Madison says, “you can buy me a drink.” Tyson thinks she sounds amused. 

Tyson fist pumps and turns back to catch the attention of one of the bartenders again. 

Drinks procured, Tyson loses track of time as he chats with Madison, as much as they can over the din and constant jostling. By the time they’re both finished, Madison’s pressed close to Tyson’s side. She’s looking up at him expectantly. 

Fuck it, Tyson thinks. He leans close and settles a hand on Madison’s hip. “Can I take you home?” he asks.

Madison slides a hand around the back of his neck. Her nails scratch the curls at the nape of his neck, and Tyson suppresses a shiver in a warm, crowded bar. 

“God, I thought you were never going to ask,” she says. 

Some of the guys are still posted up at tables in the corner. He’d forgotten about them. He hears a few jeers over the din of the crowd, and he flips them off with the hand that’s not clutching one of Madison’s. 

“Friends of yours?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at the cluster of rowdy hockey players, letting Tyson drag her towards the door.

“Unfortunately,” Tyson says, once they’re safely out the door, and he can talk at a normal volume again. “Can I kiss you?” he blurts, pausing in trying to fish his car keys out of his pocket.

Madison laughs again, but it’s not mean. Tyson likes it, the way she already seems comfortable teasing him. She doesn’t answer, instead just slides her hand around Tyson’s neck again and pulls him down to kiss her. Tyson’s dizzy with the feeling of her lips warm against his, there in the middle of the sidewalk. He makes himself pull away.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

Madison lets Tyson keep a hand on her thigh as he drives, edging up under the hem of her shorts. He’s dying to be able to kiss her again. She lets him as soon as she’s out of the car and pressed up against the passenger door. Then again, in the elevator until they’re both breathless, and even more once they’re safely inside Tyson’s apartment. Against the front door, tripping over themselves down the hallway, and, finally, finally, twisted up in Tyson’s sheets. 

Madison stirs next to Tyson, knocking him out of his bask in the afterglow. Her hair, once nicely curled, is a mess. Tyson’s probably doesn’t look much better, actually.

“I should go,” she whispers.

Tyson wants to argue. To tell her she can stay. But that’s too much, too strange. He rolls over to kiss her again, instead. She pushes him away with a soft giggle.

“Not helping,” she says. She sits up. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, course,” Tyson says, nodding too hard. Madison slips out of bed and collects her clothes. If Tyson watches her ass as she goes, who’s to blame him?

He’s dozing when she re-emerges, fully dressed and a little less disheveled. 

“Can I get your phone number?” Tyson asks without thinking. That’s not what this was supposed to be. He told JT he wasn’t looking for anything just a few hours ago. He just knows he wants to see Madison again.

She hesitates. Tyson understands. 

“I’d really like to see you again,” Tyson says, maybe too honest for a hookup, but it’s late. He can’t be blamed for the things he says after 1 AM. “And it’s late, I’d sleep better if I know you got home okay.”

Tyson can see the moment she gives in. Madison sighs and steps closer to the bed, but there’s something soft in her eyes when she looks at Tyson. 

“Where’s your phone?” she asks. Tyson reaches for his bedside table out of habit. His phone never made it there in their haste to get into bed. He turns back to face Madison, sheepish.

“I don’t know, actually.” Probably still in the back pocket of his jeans, but he can’t remember if he stopped to take it out and set it somewhere, either. 

Madison sighs at him again and shakes her head. Tyson watches as she scoops his jeans off the floor and digs through them before coming up with his phone. He probably should have done that himself, but Madison tosses it at him before he can push the sheets away from where they’re pooling at his waist. Tyson isn’t expecting it and fumbles the phone. He has to dig it back out before he can unlock it and toss it back to Madison. 

She catches it with ease, and Tyson sticks his tongue out at her. Show-off. She ignores him, thumb swiping idly through his apps until she finds his contacts. She types for a moment, oddly serious. Her own phone vibrates in her other hand. She throws the phone back at Tyson. He doesn’t drop it this time. 

He unlocks his phone to see that Madison’s made herself a contact—just her first name and a smiley face typed out— and texted herself—a little blue bubble that just says, tyson.

She checks her phone again. “I really should go,” she says softly. “My ride’s here,” she adds.

“Wait,” Tyson says. He reaches out a hand, wraps his fingers around her wrist when she steps closer and tugs her down so he can kiss her one last time. “‘Kay, now you can go,” he whispers.

Madison cups his cheek and gives him one quick peck, then she’s out the door.

Tyson’s not quite asleep when his phone vibrates next to him, and she slaps at it, squinting at it in the dark. A text from Madison reads, home x. Tyson falls asleep smiling. 

He almost expects that to be the end of it. He knows he said he wanted to see Madison again, but he’s not sure either of them are going to follow up on it. The Avs’ schedule gets busy—away, then back home, then gone again.

But it happens again. Tyson’s high on another win when he dials Madison’s phone number. It rings long enough that Tyson thinks she’s not going to answer.

“Hello?” Madison says, startling Tyson. 

“Oh,” he says. He didn’t think he���d get this far. 

“Tyson?”

“Are you busy tonight?” he blurts. It’s a Saturday night, he’s expecting her to say that she’s going out with friends or something. Tyson’s just getting home from the game himself. 

He’s surprised when she says, “Not really.”

“Oh,” Tyson says again. He pulls his tie off over his head and tosses it aside. 

“Tyson? This is a booty call, isn’t it?”

“Uh. Maybe?” Tyson says. “Is it working?” Tyson surveys his apartment. He’d cleaned before leaving for Dallas, and he’s barely been home long enough to make a mess again. Though, his unpacked suitcase is exploding in the corner of his room where he dumped it when they got in late the night before. 

“God, you’re so bad at flirting,” Madison says. Unfortunately, she’s endeared by it. “I can be there in like thirty minutes, text me your address.” 

Tyson fist pumps when he hangs up the call. He frantically texts Madison before going to change into sweats. He’s fidgeting restlessly on his couch when Madison calls him again thirty-six minutes later. 

“Can you let me up?” she asks.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he says. He doesn’t bother with shoes, just swipes his keys from his kitchen island and heads downstairs.

Madison’s waiting awkwardly in his lobby when Tyson steps off the elevator. She spots him and grins when he waves at her. She wants to hug him, for some reason, when he approaches her, but that’s not what they are, so she settles for taking his hand and twining their fingers together when he reaches out for her. 

Tyson doesn’t pin her against the elevator wall to kiss her after the doors close behind them, but Madison can tell he wants to. She squeezes his hand, and Tyson pulls her into his side.

“Little excited, huh?” Madison teases, looking at Tyson’s feet.

He wiggles his socked toes and grins at Madison. 

“Well, duh,” he says. The elevator doors open again. Tyson all but drags Madison towards his apartment. He’s kissing her before the door is shut all the way. They stumble over to Tyson’s couch, and Tyson’s pulling Madison into his lap before he’s even settled. She lets him kiss her for a few minutes before she pulls away.

“Is this going to become a thing every time you guys win?” she gasps. 

“You know who I am?” Tyson doesn’t ask, resting his forehead on Madison’s shoulder to catch his breath. “You watch hockey?” he asks instead. He’s not sure it’s a better question than the one he didn’t ask. 

Madison twists her fingers in the hair at the base of Tyson’s neck. “Not avidly. I really didn’t know who you were the first time, but my friends and I were out the other night, and I saw you on TV.” She tugs a little on his hair, and Tyson tilts his head back to look at her. She’s watching his face closely, waiting for his reaction.

Tyson’s relieved, in a weird way, that she didn’t know who he was when they hooked up the first time. He’s just not sure how he feels now that she’s back in his lap, and evidently knows he plays for the Avalanche. Madison’s unwavering, looking steadily back at Tyson. 

“What, so you’re just fucking me because I’m a hockey player now?” he jokes, or tries to joke. He thinks it falls flat.

Madison laughs. “No, you idiot, I’m fucking you because you’re kinda cute.” She rolls her eyes, and Tyson pouts a little. “I told you, I didn’t know who you were the first time. I’m not chasing anything, Tys. Besides, if I were chasing hockey players, I’m sure there are single Avs players who score more goals,” she teases.

“Hey, I scored a goal tonight!” Tyson protests. 

“I know, baby,” she says, kissing him quickly. 

“Did you look up my stats?” Tyson asks, distracted. 

“I like you, okay?” Madison says, ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be here for any other reason.”

Tyson has to kiss her again. They don’t end up making it to the bedroom. 

“Do you have to go?” Tyson whines, watching Madison sit up and search for her clothes. Tyson thinks her T-shirt ended up behind his couch.

Madison pauses. Tyson’s curls are a disaster, and Madison kind of wants to mess them up more. “And what exactly would we do if I stayed?” she asks, eyebrows raised. She threads her fingers into Tyson’s hair, tugs once, because she can. 

Tyson blushes a little. “I dunno, watch a movie?” Madison makes a face. Tyson’s phone got buried in the couch cushions, and he fishes it out to look at the time. “Okay, I guess it is kinda late.” Tyson’s stomach growls. “Do you want to order pizza?” he asks instead. 

Madison finds her shirt and checks the time on her own phone. “I really should get home,” she says, apologetic. “I hate getting Ubers late at night.” 

“You can spend the night,” Tyson says without thinking. At the look on Madison’s face, he says instead, ”Or, I could drive you home. Whatever.” 

“‘Whatever,’” Madison scoffs, shaking her head. But she grins at Tyson and pulls her shirt over her head. Tyson briefly mourns the loss of her bare chest. “I guess I could go for pizza,” she says. 

“Wait, for real?” Tyson asks. He realizes he probably sounds too eager. 

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Madison warns, but her smile is playful. 

She’s still standing next to the couch, and Tyson has to pull her back into his lap. She giggles as she settles across Tyson’s thighs. He kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, before she turns her head and captures his lips with her own. They kiss for long minutes, Tyson doesn’t know, time slowed down and unimportant. That is, until Tyson remembers he’s hungry and has to pull away. 

“Pizza?” he asks, somewhat nonsensically, panting a little. 

Madison kisses him again. Tyson tightens his grip on her hips, but pushes her away. “As long as you order pepperoni.” She slides off Tyson’s lap and slumps onto the couch next to Tyson.

Madison suddenly realizes that she’s tired, her eyes feeling heavy as she watches Tyson order pizza. She considers for a second, before carefully poking him in the ribs with her toes. Tyson doesn’t flinch. Madison stretches and settles with one of her feet across Tyson’s lap. He drops his hand to her ankle without looking down, thumb rubbing small circles across the bone absently. Madison closes her eyes and dozes. 

She’s woken up again by Tyson gripping her foot and shaking it. She’s melted further into the couch cushions, bones heavy with exhaustion. Tyson smiles at her.

“Pizza’s here, babe,” he says softly.

Sure enough, there’s a pizza box resting on the coffee table. It smells enticing enough to rouse Madison the rest of the way. She reaches a hand out, intending for Tyson to give her a piece of pizza, but he wraps his fingers around hers and pulls her to sit up. She leans into Tyson’s side. He laughs quietly and drapes an arm across her shoulders. Madison could probably fall back asleep like this, Tyson warm and solid next to her. Tyson hands her a slice of pizza, and Madison’s actually too hungry to resist. 

Tyson turns on some show on Netflix while they eat. Neither of them are paying much attention, but it fills in the silence nicely. It’s cold and dark outside, the city of Denver sleepy, but inside Tyson’s apartment, it’s cozy and warm. 

It’s dangerous waking up next to Madison the next morning. It’s something Tyson could get used to far too easily. Madison’s still asleep when he rolls over in the early morning light. She’s rolled over to face him in her sleep, face soft and hair a mess. Tyson’s not sure what time it is. He should maybe get up, but he’s not in any rush. 

Madison blinks awake to find Tyson watching her. She rubs at her eyes and rolls onto her back.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” she mumbles. She turns her head back to look at Tyson. 

Tyson grins lazily back at her. “You, duh.” 

Madison facewashes him. Tyson grabs her wrist and wrenches her hand away, cackling. “You’re the worst,” she says over his laughter. 

Tyson scoots closer and sticks a foot in between Madison’s legs. No ulterior motive, just wanting to be close. Okay, maybe a teeny bit of ulterior motive: Tyson’s toes are cold. He’d wheedled Madison into wearing a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt before they’d fallen asleep. She looks like she belongs in Tyson’s bed. 

Madison watches Tyson closely as he settles back in. She tries to read the expression on his face, the small smile on his lips. She’s not sure what any of it means.

“So what next?” she asks softly. Two hook-ups and a sleepover does not a relationship make. 

Tyson knows what she’s asking. He runs through their upcoming schedule in his head. They’re about to leave for a week. That’s about as far as he gets. They can worry about all that later. All he knows that he wants, no, he needs to see Madison again. 

What he says now is, “Breakfast?” 

December

Madison doesn’t hear much from Tyson for a while after that. It’s not like she expected to, really. She knows the Avalanche went on another long road trip, and it’s not like they need to be texting each other constantly. 

Madison finds herself checking the Avalanche box scores after each game. Tyson gets two goals while they’re gone. Not that she’s counting, or anything. 

Tyson means to call. He really does. Or even text some. But in the air somewhere over Canada, he realizes he’s never actually talked much with Madison. He doesn’t know anything about her, unless you count what she’s like in bed. He’s never been good at small talk, or the talking phase. Which, when he thinks about it, is probably why he’s still single. 

It’s not until he’s staring down three and a half weeks of nothing but practices that Tyson picks up his phone again. 

Madison answers faster than he’d expected. “You’re not bored already, are you?” she asks. “It’s only been two days since you had a game.”

It’s only been one day since their last game, actually. Tyson whines into the phone. “Yes, I’m bored, okay?” Madison laughs at him. Tyson makes a face, even though she can’t see it. “We never get this much time off, it’s weird,” he goes on. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re a smart boy, Tyson,” Madison teases. “Went to college and everything, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

That’s not to say that Tyson doesn’t have ideas, and he thinks Madison knows what he’s angling for because she’s not a fool. She’s really going to make him work for this one. 

“I mean, I guess I could watch some movies or start a new TV show,” Tyson hedges. 

“Watch The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogies,” Madison says absently. “Could get you through a good couple of days.”

Tyson takes his opening. “You could always come over and watch them with me,” he says. 

Madison groans, as if they both didn’t see where this conversation was going. “You’re terrible,” she tells him. 

“No, really, we can just hang out,” Tyson says. And if hanging out leads to other things, well. “Don’t you have teammates you can hang out with or something?” Madison asks, skeptical. 

“I see them literally every day”—Madison laughs again—“and I want to see you,” Tyson adds. “Really.” 

Madison pauses on the other end of the line. “Fine,” she says finally. “Should I pack a bag?” 

Tyson freezes. He hadn’t gotten that far in his scheming. Never considered Madison would even want to spend that much time with him this weekend. He’s quiet long enough that Madison says something.

“Tyson?” she says softly.

Tyson shakes himself, tries to get his brain back online. “I, uh, I mean. I guess? You can, if—if you want?” he stammers. It’s Friday afternoon. He still has some practices over the weekend, but the long break between games suddenly seems less daunting with the prospect of Madison staying over, staying in his bed.

“I’ll be over soon, okay?” Madison says. 

Tyson isn’t sure if he manages to say anything else before she ends the call. Fuck. He’s getting the sense for the first time that he’s in over his head. He isn’t so sure he minds, actually. 

The weekend passes quickly once Madison’s there, though Tyson swears time slows down when he’s with her. They do actually end up watching The Lord of the Rings movies—which Madison had proudly produced from one of her bags, along with several packs of microwave popcorn, which had sent Tyson into a laughing fit— in between falling into bed (or the couch, more than once) and Tyson dragging himself out of the apartment to get to skate. 

“We really should do The Hobbit first, since those come first chronologically, but other than the first one, they’re not as good,” Madison explains at one point, gesturing with a handful of popcorn. Tyson just nods. “And we could have probably had a proper marathon and watched all the movies, but that’s like twenty hours, and I figured you had other plans, anyway.” She looks sidelong at Tyson, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re kind of a nerd, you know that?” Tyson asks later, breathless from making out. He’s pressing Madison into the couch cushions, their legs tangled together underneath a blanket. He’s aiming for light, teasing, but he’s not sure he quite gets there.

Madison tugs on the hair at the nape of Tyson’s neck. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.” Madison’s smirking a little. 

Tyson absolutely does like her anyway. It might make him like her more, actually.

Madison’s standing at the kitchen counter with the last of her coffee on Sunday morning when Tyson comes up and presses himself against her back, pinning her in place. He presses a kiss to the spot where Madison’s neck meets her shoulder. Madison tilts her head to the side some. With better access, Tyson drags a line of kisses down her neck and across the top of her shoulder.

Madison sets her coffee mug down on the counter with shaky hands before she drops it. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin. 

From this angle, Tyson can see the hickey on Madison’s collarbone from the day before. He’s got one to match, somewhere. He wants to get his mouth on it again, make it darker, make sure it’s there for days. 

Tyson feels it more than he hears it when Madison laughs. She reaches up and drapes an arm backwards over his shoulder, holding him in place as much as he’s pinning her. 

“Sorry, bud, but some of us have to get back to the real world,” she says. She doesn’t make any effort to move. 

Tyson bites her shoulder, gently, but pulls away. “Same time next week?” he asks next, only half a joke. 

Madison turns around and looks at Tyson. “Tyson, next week is Christmas.”

“Fuck, is it?” Tyson tries to remember what day it is. His family is coming to town this year. He should probably put some effort into decorating his apartment, then. 

Madison just shakes her head at him. Tyson wonders if his mom and Kacey will be able to look at him and know what’s going on in his heart. 

Tyson’s apartment feels empty without Madison in it when he gets back from practice later that afternoon. She’d filled in all the quiet spaces Tyson didn’t realize it had—a spare throw blanket strewn across the couch, her makeup bag overflowing on his bathroom counter, an extra set of dirty dishes in the sink. 

He misses her. More than he should, probably. Huh.

This was never supposed to be anything. Just a hook-up from the bar. Now Madison’s spending weekends at his place, and Tyson wants to see her all the time. He should’ve seen it coming, maybe. He’d never been good at flings. 

He thinks about calling Madison, but that seems like too much. He’s been told he can be too much, sometimes. He puts his phone back down, flops face down onto his couch for a while, instead. 

Tyson spends the next few days doubling down on getting ready for Christmas. He had, in fact, forgotten that it was coming up so soon, and he still needed to get presents for his grandpa and sister. He digs out his meager box of Christmas decorations and sets them up around his apartment. It’s not very much, but it does go a long way towards making the apartment feel a bit more like home. 

He holds off on texting Madison until Wednesday. He shouldn’t have; his family’s flying in later this evening. They’ll be in town all week, and Tyson might actually go insane if he can’t see Madison, get his hands on her again until after the new year. 

If Tyson ends up picking up his family with sex hair, well. They probably didn’t notice. He’d shoved a ball cap on, anyway, though Kacey still raised her eyebrows at him in the rearview as she slid into the backseat next to their mom. He’d flip her off if he could, but his grandpa is right there.

Tyson makes it through the holiday without an interrogation from his mom and sister, but he knows it’s coming. The blanket Madison had left behind is still laying across the couch, and Kacey’s been curled up under it more often than not. Madison texts Tyson on Christmas morning, a simple merry Christmas! with a heart emoji that has Tyson grinning stupidly at his phone. Kacey clears her throat loudly, on the floor next to Tyson. He feels himself blushing as he fumbles to lock his phone and drop it face down next to him. His mom and sister share a look over his head. 

Madison texts again a few days after Christmas, asking if Tyson wants to grab lunch and hangout. Tyson does, obviously, but he has to figure out how to dodge his family for a few hours, first.

“I’m gonna go workout, I think,” Tyson announces. He needs to find his shoes, a water bottle. He is restless, too many days off in a row. 

Kacey looks up from her computer. “Oh, can I come? I’m supposed to be working out over break, too,” she says. 

“Uh,” Tyson says, trying to stall. He should’ve thought this through better. Kacey raises an eyebrow at him. “I was actually hoping for some time alone, y’know?” Kacey’s other eyebrow raises. 

“Are you saying you’re tired of us?” his mom asks, teasing. 

Tyson’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Madison again. He hasn’t had a chance to respond to her yet. He hates lying to his mom, but he still says, “Yes? No?” Tyson’s never been one to need space. “I just—”

“It’s okay, Tys,” his mom says gently. “Have a good workout, sweetheart.” 

Tyson doesn’t linger, grabbing his coat and shoving his feet into the first pair of shoes he sees on his way out the front door. He texts Madison that he’s on his way in the elevator. He does pick up lunch for both of them, too, on his way over to Madison’s place. He’s thoughtful like that. 

It takes just about all of Tyson’s self-control to actually sit next to Madison on her couch and eat first.

“How’d you ditch your mom and sister?” Madison asks eventually, eyes still on the TV, playing some random Hallmark Christmas movie. 

Tyson swallows. “Told them I was working out,” he admits.

Madison turns to smirk at him. “Working out, huh?” she asks, laughter in her voice. 

Tyson nudges her knee with his foot. “It’s not entirely a lie,” he points out. His lunch is practically finished anyway, so he sets it aside and slides closer to Madison. “I think they’re on to me, though.” He never could hide anything from the people he loves. 

Madison swings her feet into Tyson’s lap. She’s still eating, and Tyson’s about fifteen seconds away from taking her lunch from her and just kissing her. His leg bounces—his restless energy has only gotten worse since landing on Madison’s couch—until Madison digs her heel into his thigh, forcing him to stop. 

She’s looking at him carefully. “Would that be such a bad thing?” she asks. “People knowing about us?”

Tyson considers. It’s not like there’s anything to keep a secret, really. He realizes that no one even knows that he and Madison had hooked up more than just that night at the bar. He hadn’t realized how close he’d been keeping them to his chest. 

Madison’s still waiting for an answer. Tyson squeezes her ankle where it’s still draped across his lap. “I guess not, actually,” he says. 

Madison grins at him and, finally, finally, sets aside the remnants of her lunch. Tyson slides his hands up Madison’s legs, underneath her thighs, and drags her into his lap, finally, finally, getting his mouth on hers. 

Kacey and his mom are waiting for Tyson when he sheepishly slips in his front door an hour later. Kacey’s smirking, leaned up against the counter with her arms crossed. Tyson could kill her. He tugs the collar of his hoodie up, hoping it covers the hickey Madison left on his collarbone. 

“Good workout, Tys?” Kacey asks. Tyson flips her off. Even their mom smacks her arm in reprimand. 

“Great, actually,” Tyson says, allowing himself a moment of smugness in spite of his embarrassment. He hopes he’s not blushing. Kacey laughs. 

“If you’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend, Tyson, you know you could always bring her around,” his mom says gently. Tyson winces. He really hates lying to his mom. And he definitely could not just bring Madison around.

“Yeah,” Kacey chimes in, “I want to meet whoever’s got you sneaking around like an idiot.”

“She’s not—it’s not like that,” Tyson rushes to say. “We’re taking it slow, I guess.” He’s definitely blushing now, his face warm under the matching gazes of his mom and sister. He forces himself to shrug, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. “We’re just…friends,” he finishes lamely. 

Kacey and his mom pin Tyson with matching pitying, yet disbelieving looks. Tyson hunches his shoulders, nervous underneath their gazes. He thinks of Madison telling him that it’s okay if people know about them. Thinks about having to tell his mom and baby sister that he’s just fucking around with a girl he thinks he could fall in love with, given the chance. He decides against it, for now. 

Tyson shrugs again. “I mean it,” he says. “It’s not really anything right now. I don’t know.” 

He escapes to his bedroom for a shower and to bury his head under a pillow for a while, until he feels like he can face his family again.

The days seem to pass more slowly after that. Tyson works out—for real, thank you very much— and watches way too many cooking shows with Kacey, curled up under a mountain of blankets on the couch. Tyson doesn’t know the last time he got to spend this much time with his family during hockey season. It’s nice, even as he starts getting restless again, anxious to be back on the ice with his teammates. 

There’s a team New Year’s Eve party at Gabe’s. It’s pretty chill, especially as far as team gatherings go, but Tyson maybe has a little too much to drink. He’s surrounded by happy teammates with their significant others, and he’s maybe feeling a little alone. He cracks open another beer.

It’s almost midnight when Tyson sinks onto a couch next to JT and slips out his phone. No notifications. He doesn’t know what he expected. Madison had posted on her story earlier in the night that she was celebrating with friends, too. Tyson stares at his phone for a moment. 

miss you, he carefully types out. It takes him longer than it should to get it right, drunk as he is, squinting at his phone and concentrating really hard on hitting the correct keys.

Madison responds quickly, way faster than Tyson had expected her to. The typing bubble appears almost immediately. Tyson waits.

miss you too tys, it says. Then, please drink some water. 

“Who the fuck is Josty texting?” EJ yells from across the room. Tyson realizes that he’s been smiling stupidly down at his phone. He makes to lock it and put it back away, but he’s not fast enough. JT grabs Tyson’s wrist and wrenches it around so he can see his screen. 

“Who’s Madison?” JT asks, quieter than EJ. He lets Tyson lock his phone, finally.

“She’s—” Tyson pauses. He doesn’t want to say that she’s no one, because that’s not really true. He doesn’t have any other word for her, either.

JT’s been watching Tyson’s face carefully. He knows better than anyone that Tyson isn’t good at hiding his emotions, and something must be showing on Tyson’s face now. JT’s eyebrows raise. 

“Is that the girl you brought home from the bar like a month ago?” JT asks. Tyson hesitates, pulling his hand free from JT’s grasp. Tyson’s hesitation is enough. “Oh my God, are you still fucking her?” 

Tyson winces. It sounds crass when JT says it like that. “We’ve hooked up a few more times,” he admits. JT doesn’t need to know about the number of times she’s slept over, too.

JT laughs at him, shaking his head. “‘Not really looking for anything,’ huh?” he teases, echoing Tyson’s own words from that night in the bar. Was it really only a month ago? Feels like Madison’s been in Tyson’s life way longer than that, with how quickly she’s taken over Tyson’s thoughts.

“I wasn’t!” Tyson protests. He shoves JT a little for good measure. He’s so drunk he doesn’t think it has the intended effect. JT just sways back into Tyson, leaning more of his weight on Tyson’s side. 

It’s almost midnight. Around them, teammates are moving around, finding someone to kiss. Someone’s opened champagne, someone else is passing full flutes around. Tyson takes one when it passes in front of him. JT digs his elbow into Tyson’s ribs one last time before getting up to find Sydney. 

Tyson’s left on the couch, alone. He pulls his phone back out as people begin counting down around him. Madison’s text comes through just as everyone starts cheering and the clock strikes midnight. Happy new year Tyson! 🖤 

Tyson closes his eyes and drains his glass of champagne. 

January

Tyson usually dreads January. It’s a long, cold, and dark month. The grind of the season feels like it’s at its…grindiest. The game days and travel days start to run into each other and turn into one exhausting, never-ending blur. Someone’s always getting sick, or injured, 

He’s perfectly happy to throw himself back into hockey when the new year finally rolls around after so many weeks without it, but he hates how quiet his apartment is without Kacey hanging around, being annoying. He leaves his Christmas decorations up, anything to make his apartment feel lived-in.

Tyson lasts until the team gets back from Chicago on the fifth before he calls Madison again. She doesn’t answer. Tyson stares at his phone after it goes through to voicemail, bewildered. That is, until Madison texts him back and reminds him that she has a “normal job with normal hours.” Right.

Madison calls Tyson back on her way home from work. His groggy, mumbled “‘ello?” makes Madison smile when he answers, voice tinny over her car’s speakers.

“Did I wake you?” she teases. 

Tyson scoffs, but says, “...yeah. Sorry for calling you earlier,” he adds. “I’d just gotten home and wasn’t thinking.” “You can’t just call at 10:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, Tyson,” she admonishes. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just—” missing you. Tyson dismisses that thought. Too earnest. “I was just bored,” he finishes. Not much better, actually. 

Madison’s quiet for a while, focused on driving. She realizes she should figure out where she’s actually headed. “Were you calling for any particular reason earlier?” she asks. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“I could never forget you,” Tyson says quickly. “I just wanted to see you,” he admits after another moment. 

Madison turns on her blinker at a red light. She should be turning left, towards her apartment. She turns right, towards Tyson’s place. “Did you want me to come over,” she asks, wanting to hear Tyson say it.

“I mean, obviously, yeah. I can make us dinner.”

Madison laughs. “Oh, sure, you’re gonna make me some toaster waffles, huh?” She had seen the Instagram stories. “You really know how to woo a girl, Tys.”

She can practically feel Tyson’s playful outrage on the other end of the phone. He sputters for a minute before saying, “Okay, I can order us dinner.” 

Madison’s almost to Tyson’s apartment building. She hates that she already knows how to get there so easily. “Are you going to get your ass out of bed and meet me downstairs?” There’s the sound of something hitting the floor, like Tyson actually rolled out of bed.

“I’ll be right there!” Tyson says, before hanging up. The radio cuts back in, music playing softly to fill in the abrupt silence of the call ending. Madison parks and turns her car off, sitting in silence for a minute. She wonders just what the hell she’s doing, what she’s getting herself into. 

Tyson sprawls onto his couch and pulls Madison into his lap almost immediately after they’re both through the door. Madison rolls her eyes, but she goes willingly. Tyson’s perfectly content to just make out for a while, all sense of urgency gone as soon as he gets his hands on Madison. He’s not sure how long they’re there before he realizes something and pulls away.

“Have you ever been to an Avs game?” he asks.

“What?” Madison lost her shirt at some point, and Tyson’s thumb has been fiddling with one of her bra straps for the last several moments. She’s admittedly a little distracted. She processes what Tyson said. “Tyson, are you seriously thinking about hockey right now?” She tries to roll off his lap, but he digs his hands into her thighs and refuses to let her move.

“I’m always thinking about hockey, a little bit,” he defends. Madison rolls her eyes at him again. What Tyson had really been thinking about was introducing Madison to JT, then he’d remembered that she said she didn’t watch much hockey, and somehow that’s what had come out of his mouth. Madison still looks a little bit like she wants to smack him. “I told my best friend about you,” is what he ends up saying next. “He’s actually the one who pointed you out to me at the bar that night, and he wants to meet you for real.”

JT had actually said that, in between chirps about Tyson’s hooking up habits. Some of the other guys had picked it up, too, but Tyson wasn’t ready to subject Madison to them yet. Except maybe, like, Cale. And maybe after a game at the arena wasn’t the best place to introduce Madison to his friends, but Tyson could get tickets for Madison and a friend, ask Mel to introduce herself or something, and then meet Madison after with JT. 

Tyson realizes Madison hasn’t answered him. She’s still in his lap, but she’s tense. Tyson squeezes her thighs again. 

“You don’t have to, obviously,” he says softly. “I dunno, I just thought you might want to meet the guys.”

Madison relaxes a little. “You really want that?” she asks. 

Tyson can’t help but grin at her. He kisses her again, slowly. “I do.”

Later, when they’re sitting at Tyson’s little table eating dinner—that Tyson did actually cook, thank you very much—Madison knocks her ankle into Tyson’s. Tyson swallows his mouthful of food and traps her foot in between both of his. Madison had gotten re-dressed in one of Tyson’s sweatshirts, and Tyson’s doing his best to feel normal about it. 

“So, did you have a day in mind for me to come to a game, or had you not thought that far ahead?” Madison asks. 

Tyson tries to run through their upcoming schedule in his head. “Uh?” They’re home for a lot of January. “Next Friday, maybe? The…14th?” He can’t remember who they’re playing, but that’s not really important. Tyson squints over at the printout of their schedule he keeps on his fridge. “We wouldn’t be able to hang around because we fly out that night, I think.”

Madison looks faintly overwhelmed suddenly. It might be for the best that the guys will only be able to say hi briefly, actually. “Sure? Whatever you want, Tyson.”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Tyson reminds her. He feels a bit as if he’s thrown her off the deep end, even though she’s the one who pushed Tyson to tell JT in the first place. 

Madison shakes her head. “No, it’s okay, I just didn’t really expect it.” 

Tyson pulls a face. “Maybe I’m tired of keeping you a secret.” He doesn’t know what he was trying so hard to protect, now. 

Madison stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Tyson stares back. Finally, Madison drops her fork with a clatter and leans across the table to kiss Tyson. The fierceness of the kiss surprises him, Madison’s lips hard against his, her hand sliding around the back of his neck. Tyson cups her cheek and tries to soften the kiss, but Madison pulls away just as quickly as she’d kissed him. 

Tyson blinks at her, bemused. He’s not sure what just happened. It feels significant somehow, something unspoken changing between them. Tyson turns back to his dinner.

Madison sees Tyson a few more times over the next week and a half before the game. Tyson acts the same, but Madison feels like she’s on edge, counting down the hours until Friday. Tyson doesn’t seem to notice.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear to a hockey game?” Madison complains over the phone to her older sister, Emma, who she’d asked to come with her on Friday. Emma just laughs at her. Madison’s seen what WAGs wear to games—cute outfits with leather pants and heels. Madison doesn’t own that type of shit, and she’s not really a WAG, besides. She doesn’t own a jersey, either, and it would probably be weird to wear a jersey that’s not Tyson’s anyway. Madison’s pixie pants from Old Navy and sensible work shoes aren’t going to cut it.

“What were you wearing when you met Tyson?” Emma asks, as if she doesn’t know they met in a bar.

Madison snorts. “Nothing that’s appropriate for a hockey game.” Madison regards the handful of sweaters she’s pulled from her closet. One of them is close enough to Avalanche burgundy, maybe. Somewhere in her dirty laundry is one of Tyson’s sweatshirts. Madison’s not bold enough to wear it.

Game day is overwhelming, to say the least. Tyson had gotten them good seats, but Madison’s not used to being around so many people, and it’s noisy all around her. It’s easier to follow the pace of the game in person than on TV, she learns, and her eyes follow Tyson whenever he’s on the ice.

Tyson scores a goal late in the first period, and Madison’s probably the one who cheers the loudest for him. 

Madison waits outside the arena for Tyson after the game. Her sister’s waiting in the car, telling Madison it was too cold to stand around. She watches some of the other players make their way past her and onto a waiting bus. It’s cold, and she hates Tyson briefly. It’s only another few minutes until Tyson appears, closely followed by someone. They’re arguing, but Tyson breaks off as soon as he sees Madison waiting for him.

Tyson forgets himself for a moment. He runs over to Madison and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her once. Madison laughs at him. He ignores JT snickering behind him in favor of leaning down and kissing Madison quickly. 

Madison’s blushing when he pulls away, but it might just be from the cold. 

“Nice goal tonight, babe,” Madison tells him. Tyson just shrugs. 

Behind them, JT clears his throat. Tyson kind of forgot about that part. He drapes an arm around JT’s shoulders and drags him closer. “This asshole is JT,” he tells Madison. “He’s one of my best friends.” To JT, he says, “This is Madison, be nice.”

JT scoffs. “I’m always nice.” He grins at Madison. “I’m also the reason Tyson went up to you at the bar, so I guess you could thank me for whatever’s going on here.” Tyson smacks him. 

“You can get on the bus now, actually,” Tyson says. JT’s laughing again as Tyson tries to elbow him out of the way. Madison’s smiling, too, though, amused by their antics. 

JT does leave, then, and Madison and Tyson are alone. Or, as alone as you can be with half of Tyson’s teammates watching them through the bus windows. Tyson steps closer to Madison.

“Thanks for tonight,” she says. Tyson barely did anything, but he’s not going to say that now. Tyson should really get on the bus, but he can’t tear himself away. Madison’s hand finds his, tangling their fingers together and squeezing once before letting go again. “Text me when you get to the hotel, yeah?”

Tyson has to kiss her again. “I will, I promise.” He really needs to go. One last kiss, pressed to Madison’s cheek this time, then Tyson forces himself to step away. Madison’s gone when he turns around as he steps on the bus. Tyson shakes himself and goes to find JT, flopping into the seat left open for him. 

“You’re in deep, bud,” JT says. Tyson glares at him. 

“God, I know.”

February

Tyson should be planning a vacation somewhere warm. That’s what most of his teammates are doing, with the All-Star break coming up in just a few days, everyone ready to escape winter in Colorado. What Tyson’s doing instead is texting Madison, trying to convince her to spend the week with him. 

He doesn’t understand why she’s being so resistant to the idea. She’s spent nights and weekends with him before. She’s spent more time around his friends, even sticking around the other night when JT and Cale crashed their evening. 

Fine I’ll just stay over at yours then, Tyson finally texts as a last resort. 

Madison leaves him on read for, like, two hours. He spends most of that time trying to figure out what he could have said to make her pull away so suddenly. 

Tyson’s this close to actually driving over to Madison’s to finish this conversation-slash-argument in person when she finally texts him back. 

I don’t think that’s a good idea either, Madison has texted. Tyson stares at it. Tries to type a response, deletes it. 

Before he can think much more about it, Tyson’s grabbing his car keys. He ends up driving aimlessly around Denver for a while before he heads towards Madison’s apartment. He’s worried he’s too upset to go straight over, that he’ll just start saying things he doesn’t mean out of frustration. 

He still knocks on Madison’s door a little too hard, maybe. She looks confused when she answers the door. Tyson realizes he probably should have given her a heads up. 

He’d planned what he wanted to say in the car, but what he blurts out instead is, “What, are you sleeping with someone else on the side?” Tyson could play it off as a joke any other time, but right now it comes out too accusing, too hurt. 

Madison’s face does something complicated before she grabs him by the wrist and hauls him inside. 

“What the fuck, no,” she says. “Tyson, what the fuck?” she repeats.

He crosses his arms. “I don’t get why you don’t want to spend the week off with me.” She’s already spent days at a time in his apartment. This week shouldn’t be any different. 

Madison’s always hated cuffing season, is the thing. Maybe it’s just because she usually finds herself lonely through the winter months. She’s not stupid, this thing with Tyson has an expiration date; if she’s being honest with herself; they’ve been pushing it ever since they extended all of this past a one night stand. With every day that passes, Madison feels herself falling just a little more for Tyson, and she feels the impending end creeping closer. She needs to put some space between them before she gets her heart broken.

She just doesn’t know that Tyson’s busy falling, too. 

Madison doesn’t know how to put all of that into words without blowing up her spot, though. She settles for saying, “I just need some space, I think.” It’s not exactly a lie. 

Tyson’s face falls, and Madison immediately wishes she could take the words back.

Tyson’s quiet for a moment before he quietly says, “I didn’t do anything, did I?”

“No, God, of course not,” Madison rushes to assure him. She tries to collect her thoughts. “It’s just that, with Valentine’s Day coming up, and winter ending, I don’t know, I think I need to figure out what I want.”

Tyson forgot about Valentine’s Day. He doesn’t even know their schedule that far out. He supposes they have been hurtling towards something they’ve yet to define lately. But, “Hey, we’ve got a good thing going right now, don’t we?” Madison nods hesitantly. “Who said anything about changing that?” Tyson’s heart has other ideas, but he can worry about that later. 

Madison takes a deep breath. “I guess,” she says, and Tyson grins at her. 

“I’ll drop the All-Star break thing if you want. I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He doesn’t spend a lot of time with people other than teammates. It’s nice to change things up. 

“Like you wouldn’t be calling me all the time to hook up, anyway,” Madison teases. Tyson can’t argue with that. 

He ends up sticking around for a while, sprawled across Madison’s couch with her tucked against his chest between his legs. Madison turns on The Hobbit, even though Tyson doesn’t think they quite managed to make it through The Return of the King the last time they had a Tolkien marathon. 

When he leaves later, pulling Madison in for a chaste kiss in the doorway, he realizes it’s the longest they’ve spent together without it ending in a hook-up. It’s kind of nice. 

Tyson does back off some after that. All-Star break is already upon them, anyway. He can handle winging it solo for a few days. Probably. 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t properly cleaned his apartment since their last long break back in December. The Avs have been home a lot in January, too, and his fridge is looking pretty bare these days.

He considers texting Madison and asking if she wants to tag along for his groceries, but he thinks that might be crossing the line of “too domestic.” He throws himself into cleaning and does his best to not think about texting her, instead.

It’s Madison who breaks the silence first. She lasts two days. She thought time and distance was what she needed, but that was before she realized how much she missed listening to Tyson chattering at her in between falling into bed. 

She texts, i’m coming over, before she can think better of it. She makes the now-familiar drive to Tyson’s apartment on autopilot. Tyson’s seen her text by the time she parks, and he readily buzzes her into the building. Madison doesn’t even have to knock when she gets to his door; Tyson jerks it open like he’s been waiting, beaming.

“Burky’s here,” he says, pulling Madison in for a kiss. Madison peers around Tyson. She hasn’t met Burky yet, but she vaguely recognizes the guy standing in the middle of Tyson’s living room as another teammate. 

“Hi,” he says. Awkward. Madison likes him.

“This is Madison,” Tyson announces, somewhat needlessly. His brain shorts out a bit after that, unsure what he can call Madison. ‘Friend’? ‘Hookup’? Definitely not ‘girlfriend’.

“Tyson hasn’t stopped talking about you since you came to the game a few weeks ago,” Burky tells Madison, interrupting Tyson’s runaway train of thought.

“Hey,” Tyson whines. “You don’t need to tell her that part.” 

Madison laughs. “Nah, it’s okay, JT’s already told me.”

Tyson’s busy trying to come up with a sufficient way to threaten JT whenever he sees him again as Burky slips out the front door, and suddenly he and Madison are alone. 

Madison starts to apologize for showing up with little warning, but Tyson cuts her off, pushing her—as gently as he can—against the nearest wall and kissing her. 

“Hi,” he breathes when Madison ducks her head to pull away. He kisses her again before he can admit how much he missed her.

“I missed you,” Madison says, which. Tyson can handle that.

“God, me too.” Before, he might have felt overexposed by telling her that, but, now, it’s just comforting to know she misses him the same way he misses her. “I was actually about to make dinner, if you’re hungry?”

He starts to head towards his kitchen, not waiting for Madison to follow. He hadn’t really planned much further than deciding to cook, but he can probably figure out enough to make for two people. Madison leans against the counter as Tyson opens his fridge and peers inside. He could make chicken, but that’s boring.

“I did just buy burger patties,” he says, sort of thinking out loud.

“Tys, make whatever you want,” Madison tells him, laughing a little. “I’ll eat it.”

Tyson twists around to grin at Madison. “Be careful, you haven’t actually seen me cook yet.” 

He’s a passable cook, actually—his mom wouldn’t let him leave for North Dakota before he knew the basics, and he’s only learned more since then. He plucks the burger patties out of the fridge.

Tyson talks while he cooks. He’s not even sure what he’s chatting about after a while, but Madison listens intently to everything he says. She winds up sitting on the counter near him, and he keeps stepping away from the stove to steal kisses in between sentences. He roasts up some red potatoes, too, and digs his hamburger buns out of the freezer. “They last longer,” he tells Madison, sticking two buns in his toaster. “Also, don’t tell Nate I’m eating white bread.”

Madison has not yet met Nathan MacKinnon, and she doesn’t think she’d be telling him what Tyson’s eating for dinner on a night off when she does meet him, either.

Tyson spends almost as much time dramatically plating the food as he did cooking it. Madison pours them both glasses of wine. He finally slides a plate in front of her but whips out his phone before she can take a bite.

Madison groans. “Tyson, oh my God.” She hides behind her wine glass while Tyson takes a picture of their plates.

Tyson reaches across the table to pull Madison’s hand away from her face. “Relax, I’m just sending it to JT.”

Madison scoffs, “Sure, just JT,” but she sets her wine back down.

Tyson tries to sneak another picture of her, but she catches him. The artificial shutter clicks just as she smiles sweetly at Tyson and flips him off.

“Delete that,” she whines.

“Absolutely not.”

They continue to chat over dinner. Tyson drips ketchup on his shirt, and Madison laughs so hard she chokes on her wine, which sets Tyson off, too. It’s several minutes before they can collect themselves again. Until Madison meets Tyson’s eyes across the table and bursts into laughter again.

“What’s so funny?” Tyson whines, still dabbing futilely at the stain on his shirt.

Madison wipes at her eyes, trying to catch her breath. “Nothing, nothing.” It really wasn’t that funny. “I think I’m just over-tired.” She doesn’t tell Tyson that she’s been worrying about him, about their relationship, so much that she hasn’t been able to sleep well.

Tyson frowns at her, anyway, like he knows what she’s not saying. He glances at the time. 

“Do you want to take a nap or something? It’s still early enough.”

Madison knows that if she falls asleep in Tyson’s bed now, she will not be getting out of it until morning at least, and, “I didn’t pack anything.” 

She doesn’t know why she was half-expecting Tyson to shut the door in her face when she arrived. She definitely hadn’t been planning on staying the night. 

Tyson frowns harder. “You can always wear something of mine. Unless…you don’t wanna stay?”

Madison pushes a piece of potato around her plate with her fork for a moment before answering.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to stay,” she says quietly.

“What?” Tyson’s so surprised he drops his fork. He snatches it back up and points it accusingly at Madison. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course I want you to stay. I literally always want you to stay.”

Madison can feel herself blushing and she ducks her head so Tyson can’t see.

Tyson goes on. “Plus, it’s a Friday night, we can stay up late and watch a movie, then sleep in tomorrow. I’ll even make you breakfast!”

He’ll probably actually persuade Madison into going out for breakfast, but that’s an argument he’ll save until the morning. Tyson decides he’s done eating and pushes back from the table. He tries to clear Madison’s plate, but she glares at him and swipes her plate away. Tyson makes grabby hands for it.

“C’mon, I’m not making you clean up after yourself, you don’t have to.”

Madison shakes her head and holds her empty plate farther out of Tyson’s reach. “You cooked, I clean, baby.”

“That’s not—” Tyson’s so distracted that Madison snatches his plate and darts towards the kitchen. “Hey!”

He chases after Madison, who’s laughing again. Tyson loves the sound of Madison’s laugh, the way it fills his apartment. He waits until the plates have clattered into the sink to press up behind her. He kisses her shoulder, her neck, before burying his face in the crook of her neck. Madison shudders and leans back into Tyson.

“How about neither of us clean up, and we go watch a movie instead?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin.

Dishes can wait; Tyson needs Madison on top of him, like, five minutes ago. He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he loops an arm around her waist and drags her over to the couch. She grunts when he pulls her on top of him, but she’s pliant as he arranges both of them until they’re comfortable. He even pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over Madison’s back.

Madison snuggles in, the top of her head nestled perfectly under Tyson’s chin. He had intended for some making out, but now that they’re there, he’s fine with actually turning on a movie. He’s pretty sure Madison’s eyes are closed already, anyway, her breathing already starting to slow down and even out. Tyson scrolls for a while aimlessly before he settles on something stupid he’s probably seen before. He keeps the volume low. He dozes a little himself, absently rubbing Madison’s back underneath her shirt. She mumbles in her sleep and shifts closer.

It’s late by the time the movie ends, and Tyson rouses himself. They should both move to the bed, but he’s loath to wake Madison. She’s cute when she sleeps.

Tyson nudges Madison gently in the ribs. She stirs and blinks blearily up at Tyson.

“Hm?”

“Let’s get you to bed, baby,” Tyson whispers. He starts to move, and Madison makes a grumpy noise and snuggles back in. “C’mon, c’mon, it’s more comfy, I promise.”

He gets Madison up with quite a bit more poking and prodding. She’s unhappy with being woken up, and Tyson’s doing his best not to laugh at her. He nudges her towards the bathroom and gets a glare for his troubles, but she does dig out her toothbrush. 

Tyson roots around for an old shirt for Madison to wear. He holds it out to her when she emerges from the bathroom, but Madison bypasses the shirt and kisses Tyson instead. He tries to keep it gentle, but Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson drops the shirt in favor of sliding his hands along Madison’s shoulders, her ribs, down her hips. They’re not very coordinated as they fall backwards onto Tyson’s bed. Their feet tangle as Tyson tries to push even closer, pinning Madison to the bed as they continue to kiss.

Madison breaks the kiss to yawn in Tyson’s face.

He huffs out a laugh, and Madison whines again. “No more, or you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

He watches as Madison squirms around until her head is on her pillow. She’s already half-asleep again. Tyson leans over the foot of the bed and fishes around for the sleep shirt he dropped. He tosses it to Madison, and it lands on her face. She tears it away to glare at him.

Tyson’s even polite and doesn’t stare at Madison’s chest as she strips off the shirt she had been wearing and shimmies into his shirt.

He also wins the argument over breakfast the next morning, and triumphantly takes Madison to breakfast at Snooze. Madison’s grouchiness only lasts until a plate of French toast lands in front of her. 

They’re out of town the day before Valentine’s Day. It’s just Dallas, and they’ll fly home after the game, but Tyson’s not actually sure where the line is between him and Madison and February 14th. Romantic dinner is absolutely out of the question. So are roses, probably. Tyson still wants to do something though, which is how he ends up on the website for a local flower shop while he’s supposed to be napping after skate. He scrolls for a few minutes before he remembers that he’s colorblind, and he should probably enlist some help.

JT and his judgmental eyebrows are at Tyson’s hotel room door seven minutes later. He shoulders his way past Tyson without a word, settles next to Tyson’s laptop on the bed.

“Flowers?” JT asks. “For your not-girlfriend?” He’s still being judgy, but Tyson knows he’s amused a little, too.

“Shut up, at least I’m not sending her roses,” Tyson says, trying to defend himself. He flops down on the bed next to JT. JT’s already busy scrolling. ”You need help picking the right colors, don’t you,” he says, teasing.

“Maybe.” Tyson’s never really understood flowers—they all sort of look the same to him—but girls are supposed to like them. Tyson’s never claimed to understand girls, either. 

JT clicks around a few times before he punches Tyson in the shoulder.

“Ow,” he complains, sitting up and peering over JT’s shoulder. “...What am I looking at?”

JT sighs. “I don’t know, some pink and purple flowers.”

Tyson squints closer at the photo of the arrangement JT picked. “Wait, is that a rose? I said no roses.”

“It’s pink, it’s fine.” JT tilts the screen away for a second. “You’re adding on a stuffed animal.”

“I am?” JT gives him a look. “I mean, sure.” JT turns the laptop back towards Tyson, and he dutifully fills in his credit card information. He has to hunt for Madison’s address in his phone, but then he’s pressing the confirmation button, and that’s it. “That’s it? That was easy.” 

JT snorts and shuts Tyson’s laptop. “Sure, easy after you asked me for help.” He facewashes Tyson. “You’re welcome.” 

“I’ll buy your coffee before the game,” Tyson offers, ignoring JT’s sarcasm. “Besides, you’re the one of us in a cute, long-term relationship.”

JT smirks at Tyson over his shoulder, heading for the door. “You could change that for yourself, you know.” 

“Working on it!” Tyson yells as the door shuts behind JT.

Tyson mostly forgets about the flowers after that, with the game, and the flight home, and crashing into bed and sleeping for almost ten hours. He hopes Madison likes them, hopes he isn’t pushing it too far.

Madison isn’t expecting the knock she gets on her door the next morning. She’s even more surprised when she opens her door and finds a small vase of flowers waiting on her doormat. There’s a teddy bear propped up next to the flowers; she hugs it to her chest as she carries the flowers inside. She has to set the teddy back down with the flowers to take a picture to send to Tyson.

She sends, should I be worried about a secret admirer? Tyson, eternal dork that he is, sends back the smirking emoji and the emoji blowing a kiss. Madison adds a selfie of herself hugging the bear and says, come cuddle?

Tyson probably, maybe, goes a little over the speed limit on his way to Madison’s. 

March

Fucking Calgary. Tyson’s face hurts. He gingerly sticks his tongue through the gap where his front teeth used to be, but moving hurts too much. He sits back in the passenger seat of JT’s car with a quiet groan. The training staff had been adamant that Tyson couldn’t drive himself home, and Tyson wasn’t really in any shape to put up a fight. JT looks at him sideways, something amused in the tilt of his eyebrows.

All this and they didn’t even fucking win. 

“Want me to call your mom?” JT asks. 

Tyson groans again. He really should call her. He knows she’s worried, and if he doesn’t tell her he’s fine—mostly— she’ll probably take the next flight into Denver to check on him herself. She’s pretty great like that. 

He should probably text Madison, too. 

What Tyson really wants to do is go home and pass out for about twelve hours. He’s already scheduled for emergency dental work in the morning, though, and then Tyson’s going to have to beg the training staff to let him play on the road trip they’re about to head on. He hasn’t even packed yet. 

JT holds his hand out for Tyson’s phone. Tyson fishes it out of his hoodie pocket and slaps it into JT’s hand. JT waves it at him.

“Unlock it, dumbass,” JT says. Tyson could grumble about how JT definitely knows his passcode, but he just takes his phone back. “And dial your mom while you’re at it, I can’t do it while driving.” Tyson settles for a disgruntled huff and does as he’s told. 

He only half-listens, eyes closed, as JT talks to his mom, repeated reassurances that he’s fine, and, no, she doesn’t need to come down, and, yes, JT will keep an eye on him. 

They’re almost to Tyson’s apartment by the time JT hangs up. He doesn’t hand Tyson’s phone back. Tyson cracks open his eyes to squint at JT.

“Need me to call your little girlfriend, too?” he asks. The way he says it isn’t mean, but Tyson bristles anyway.

“Not my girlfriend,” he manages, swiping for his phone. Not yet, anyway, or maybe not ever. Tyson’s working on it. JT lets him take it, but Tyson doesn’t miss the raised eyebrow he gets before JT turns back to the road.

JT insists on walking Tyson to his front door, then following him inside. Tyson’s too tired to begrudge the fussing. Plus, he does feel like shit, and it’s kind of nice, even if he’ll never, ever tell JT that. JT hovers in the bedroom doorway as Tyson kicks off his slides and faceplants into his pillow.

“Ow,” he says, gingerly turning back over.

JT snorts at him. “Need anything?” The trainers gave Tyson painkillers after the game, and it’s not like he can brush his teeth—or what’s left of them, anyway. He settles for flipping off JT. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll lock the door on my way out.” Tyson probably owes him one after this. 

He barely remembers to text Madison a thumbs up emoji before he falls asleep.

Tyson grimaces when he sees himself in the mirror the next morning. His jaw is swollen and bruised, and he can barely open his mouth. He’s not sure he wants to see the state of his teeth, anyway. A knock on his door drags him away from his mirror.

Madison knocks again, unsure if Tyson’s awake. She should’ve called, or texted, before she showed up. She shifts anxiously from foot to foot while she waits for Tyson to answer. It’s only another few seconds before the door swings open, and Tyson appears. He looks miserable as he leans against the door. 

“You look like shit,” Madison says. She waits until he steps back before pushing past him and inside his apartment. 

“Thanks,” Tyson mumbles, following Madison to the kitchen. 

She hops up onto the counter and thrusts one of the smoothies in her hand at Tyson. “Breakfast,” she says.

Tyson takes it and takes a wary sip. It’s his favorite flavor, and he takes a bigger drink. He’s halfway through slurping his smoothie before he remembers to say anything else.

“I’ve, uh, got the dentist this morning, then I’ve gotta meet the team to fly to New York,” he tells Madison. He talks carefully around his swollen gums. 

Madison shrugs. “Just wanted to check on you, bud,” she says. She sets her smoothie aside and holds her arms out to Tyson. He steps into her arms and lets her hold him. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in the crook of her neck. “Looked pretty rough out there last night.”

Tyson grunts. Madison pokes him in the ribs until he squirms away. He takes a petulant drink of his smoothie.

“Do you need any help with anything?” she asks. 

Tyson still hasn’t packed. His dirty laundry has piled up. He should really clean his apartment. 

Instead, he shakes his head, muttering, “You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I asked, Tys,” she says, crossing her arms. She stares him down. 

Tyson cracks. “I’ve just got a bunch of cleaning to do, is all.” It hurts to talk too much. He forces himself to shrug, tries to do the math on how much time he has before the dentist and before heading to the airport to get everything done. 

Madison doesn’t seem concerned. “Okay, where do you want to start?”

“You don’t-” Tyson starts. You should just leave, he wants to say, but doesn’t. 

“Shut up and drink your smoothie, Jost,” Madison tells him. 

Tyson shuts up and drinks his smoothie. 

He goes to start a load of laundry while Madison tackles his kitchen. He’d run the dishwasher the day before, but what hadn’t fit had piled up in the sink, and he had never exactly gotten around to emptying it. More dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Tyson stands in his bedroom for a moment, listening to the sounds of Madison putting things away in his cabinets.

He doesn’t know when she learned where everything goes.

They work around each other in silence for a while. Tyson stops a few times and watches the confidence and comfort with which Madison moves around his apartment. He likes it more than he should, probably. 

He’s got clothes in the dryer when he realizes he should’ve left already. He’d gotten a lot of work done the night before, and he’s got more appointments for when they get back to Denver at the end of the week.

He looks around his half-cleaned apartment in despair. He’d managed to pack enough to get by, he thinks. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to borrow socks from JT on a road trip, anyway. Madison must see the look on his face, because she walks over to Tyson. He looks down at her as she places her hands on his hips.

“Go, I can handle the rest of this,” she says. They’d made good progress, but most of Tyson’s laundry—anything that hadn’t gotten immediately packed—still needs to be folded. “Just leave me the apartment key. I’ll finish up, and make sure everything’s locked up. Promise,” she tells him.

Tyson can’t ask her to do that, and he tells her as much. That’s like. Girlfriend shit. He doesn’t say that part. 

What he ends up saying is, “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.” 

Madison leans up on tiptoes to press a quick close-mouthed kiss to Tyson’s lips. “I know. But I want to help you, babe. Let me help you.” 

Tyson sighs. This isn’t a fight he’s going to win. Madison watches him with something like satisfaction on her face as he finds his keys, carefully unhooks his apartment key and hands it over, but there’s something soft in her eyes, too. Tyson can’t bear to think too hard about what that look means, so he steps around Madison and goes to grab his bags.

Tyson gives her a quick kiss on his way past. He wants nothing more than to kiss her properly, like she deserves, but he doesn’t think his jaw could handle that. Madison grabs Tyson’s wrist before he can get far. He turns to look at her again, a question on the tip of his tongue, when she slips a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss him again. It’s almost desperate, but slow and gentle. Tyson lets himself get lost in it for a second. Madison squeezes his neck once before she pulls away. She gives him a soft smile. Tyson presses his forehead to hers for another second before he regretfully pulls away. 

“See you in a few days,” she whispers. 

Tyson deserves all the chirps he gets for being late.

The road trip fucking sucks, to say the least. Tyson’s jaw hurts more often than it doesn’t, and he ends up with more penalty minutes than points. He’s looking forward to going home and sleeping in his own bed for a minimum of twelve hours.

He panics, too, a little. It’s become startlingly obvious that he’s fucking head over heels for Madison, and he has no clue what to do about it. They’ve got a good thing going, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to mess with it, really. He doesn’t really want things to stay how they are, either. 

So, panic. He thinks about JT calling Madison his girlfriend, just a few days before. He thinks of his own realization that the lines between hooking up and relationship have become blurred. What he needs is distance, some clarity. The time difference between Denver and the East Coast is an easy enough excuse to start; they’re busy, and it’s easy to let texts from Madison go unanswered for a few hours, or a few hours longer than a few hours. 

Madison must get the hint, because her texts peter out after a few days. 

Tyson is trying to find his keys in his carry-on bag as they step off the plane when he remembers that he left them with Madison so she could lock up his apartment for him. He’s locked out of his apartment and being iced out by Madison, and all he really wants is to go to sleep and not talk to anyone.

He sheepishly calls Madison as he leaves the airport. She sounds normal when she answers, and she doesn’t hesitate to say, “Sure,” when he asks if he can pick up his keys. Tyson climbs into his car tiredly and puts Madison’s address into his phone GPS.

Tyson’s only been to Madison’s place a few times. He hasn’t realized until now that he usually prefers having her over at his apartment. He likes seeing her there, forcing him to make room for herself in his life, at ease in his bed. He shakes those thoughts off. 

Madison makes him wait when he knocks on her apartment door. He stands awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Finally, after what feels like forever, Madison swings the door open. She doesn’t move back to let Tyson in, keys already in her hand. 

“Hi,” Tyson breathes. Madison raises an eyebrow at him. Tyson gets the sudden urge to apologize. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Thanks again, uh, for helping me with everything,” he says eventually. “I owe you.” He hasn’t seen his apartment yet, obviously, but he knows Madison left it cleaner than it’s been since he moved in, probably. Madison’s breath catches. That was the wrong thing to say. “No, you don’t, Tyson,” she says shortly. She tosses Tyson his keys. He’s not expecting it and fumbles them. The sound of them hitting the ground is deafening. Tyson’s exhausted, and he’s only so strong.

“Can I come in?” he asks. “Please?”

Madison regards him. Tyson looks pathetic, if she’s being honest with herself, worn-out and worn-down. His swelling has gone down since she last saw him, but he looks uncomfortable. She gets the feeling it’s not just about his jaw. She, too, is only so strong. “C’mere,” she says, finally stepping back and opening the door wider. Tyson’s so relieved he could cry.

Tyson ends up collapsing in Madison’s bed and sleeps for twelve hours, face buried in a pillow that smells like her. So much for getting some distance. 

Madison’s waiting outside Tyson’s apartment door when he gets home after beating Calgary a few nights later. Tyson’s tired, and cold, but he feels himself grinning when he sees her. She’s leaning casually against his door frame, playing idly on her phone, but she’s wearing one of Tyson’s hoodies. He wants nothing more than to kiss her right there, but he settles for bumping her out of the way with his hip so he can unlock his front door.

“What if JT had come home with me, huh? Or Cale?” Tyson asks instead of saying hello. She follows him inside and locks the door behind her. Tyson busies himself with his coat so he doesn’t blurt out something dumb. He and JT weren’t quite as inseparable as they used to be, but it could happen. And Cale only lived a few floors away. Though, now that Tyson thought of it, he hadn’t been inviting teammates over after games very much lately, not when there was usually someone else waiting for him.

He’s seen Madison since they got back from their road trip, but he misses her so much when she’s not around now. He can’t get enough of her. That probably means something. He’s working on it. Sort of. 

“Hello to you, too, Tys,” she scoffs, kicking off her shoes. She carefully aims one at Tyson’s shin.

“Hey, hey, watch the suit pants,” he protests. He gives in and steps closer to her, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her into him. He allows himself a quick kiss, just a chaste one, forcing himself to pull away before either of them can deepen it.

She pouts at him. Tyson allows himself one more kiss. He is beginning to realize that he is so, so fucked.

Tyson strips off his suit jacket as he heads towards the kitchen. She trails after him. Tyson swings around to walk backwards so he can face her. He immediately bumps into the doorway to the kitchen and stumbles. He doesn’t turn back around.

“Snack first,” he says. He doesn’t say what comes next, but he’s pretty sure they both know.

“Didn’t you eat after the game at the Can?” she asks. Tyson drops his suit jacket on one of his kitchen chairs. She picks it up with a sigh and a small smile before draping it nicely over the back of the chair instead. 

Tyson turns back around, intent on digging through his fridge. “Well, yeah, but—” He freezes. Blinks. There are balloons tied to the faucet of his sink. Next to them, a cookie cake and two wrapped presents. Tyson peers closer at the cookie cake. Happy birthday, Tys! It reads, in looping cursive. 

Tyson turns slowly back to face her. She looks shy, biting her lip and watching Tyson with something like nervousness written across her face. Tyson feels guilty, suddenly, for the way he tried to put distance between them just a few days before. 

“How did you—When?” Tyson gets out. She doesn’t look any less nervous, he realizes, and he rushes over to hug her.

She holds up a familiar key when he lets her go, the beginnings of a smile on her face, now. “Cale slipped me your spare key,” she explains. “I snuck in after you left for the game this afternoon, after I got off work.” 

Tyson had completely forgotten that he and Cale had swapped spares when they ended up living in the same building. The idea was to save them from the potential embarrassment of locking your keys in your apartment, but apparently Cale was using his for more nefarious purposes now. 

Madison had been surprised at how easy it had all been. She doesn’t even remember when she got Cale’s number, but he had readily agreed to help her out some. She’d even considered sticking around and surprising Tyson when he got home, but she still wasn’t quite sure how he’d react. She couldn’t tell with him sometimes.

Tyson has to kiss her. She giggles, breathless, when he pulls away.

“Well, now I know what we’re eating for a snack,” Tyson says, taking her hand and dragging her towards the island. He only lets go long enough to dig through a drawer for a knife and to tear off two paper towels. He cuts two large slices and hands one to her. He shoves a bite of cookie cake in his mouth before he says, I love you.

She hops up on the counter when they’ve both finished their slices, swinging her feet into the cabinets. Tyson steps between her legs and kisses her again, because he can. He reaches behind her and picks up one of the wrapped packages. It’s small, light. He flips it over once in his hands. “Hey, your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she says, swiping for the present. 

Tyson holds it out of her reach, and she wraps her legs around his waist, pressing him close against her. Tyson takes a deep breath.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says. He sticks a finger underneath a flap in the wrapping paper. He really hadn’t been expecting anything.

She shrugs. “It’s stupid,” she says. 

“Good thing I like stupid,” Tyson counters. He tears into the wrapping paper properly, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. He’s left with a small book. “It’s a ukulele book?” 

“It’s sheet music, so you can finally stop playing the same three songs all the time,” she says.

Tyson realizes he hasn’t said anything else. He stops staring and sets the book aside. “It’s perfect, not stupid,” he says. She tilts her chin for another kiss. Who is he to say no? “Thank you,” he murmurs against her lips. He reaches for the second present, still kissing her. She groans at him.

Tyson tears into the second present just as eagerly as the first. She’s laughing at him, and this time he crumples the wrapping paper up and tosses it at her face. It’s just a case of beer, Tyson’s favorite. He hadn’t realized she noticed it was always stocked in his fridge. 

Her legs are still wrapped around his waist, and Tyson presses closer, as close as he can get. The counter digs into the tops of his thighs, but he’s too busy making out to care. She slides her hands into his hair. She tastes like cookie cake and peppermint Chapstick; Tyson would kiss her forever if he could. 

Speaking of. They fell over the last time Tyson tried to carry her to his bedroom, but he slides his hands underneath her thighs, anyway, tugging her off the counter. She slips down, still pinned between Tyson and the countertop, still kissing him languidly. 

“Gonna actually move at any point?” she eventually asks, pulling away to press her forehead to Tyson’s. 

Tyson pretends to think about it. “I mean, we don’t have to go to bed,” he says. Not being on a bed hadn’t stopped them before.

She pushes on Tyson’s chest, and he goes, laughing. She lets herself be dragged to Tyson’s room, kicking the door shut behind her. 

It’s late by the time they tumble into bed for real. She’s in one of Tyson’s shirts, and nothing else. If Tyson weren’t actually exhausted, he’d be considering round two. He had nearly gotten caught while they were cleaning up in the bathroom after round one, sleepily staring as she took off her makeup and brushed her teeth—a bottle of her makeup remover and her toothbrush live on Tyson’s sink, and have for months. Tyson tries not to look into it too much. 

“What?” she’d asked, catching Tyson’s eye in the mirror.

He had shaken himself. “Nothing,” he said, giving her a sleepy grin. He pressed a kiss to her temple as he slipped out of the bathroom.

Madison watches him go. She’s trying to decipher that look in his eyes. His face was soft, fond behind drowsy eyes. She realizes she’s frozen with her toothbrush still in her mouth. Tyson’s waiting for her. 

He’s staring up at the ceiling fan, rotating slowly above him, when she emerges and slips under the covers next to him. Her toes are cold where she presses them to Tyson’s leg, and he swears under his breath, even as he reaches across the bed to pull her closer. He presses a kiss to her hair and rests his chin on top of her head. Madison hides a smile in his chest. 

Tyson wakes up slowly the next morning. It’s still early, the sunlight filtering through his curtains the hazy grey of dawn. Madison’s still asleep next to him when he rolls over. Tyson dares to pull her closer until she’s tucked underneath his chin again. Madison stirs a little, making a soft noise and pressing closer. She pulls back and blinks sleepily up at Tyson.

“Happy birthday, Tyson,” she murmurs. 

Tyson grins at her and brushes a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. He kisses her quickly, and she makes a soft noise and leans into it before yawning. “Thank you,” Tyson whispers back. “Now go back to sleep.” 

Madison grumbles, but snuggles back in, pressing her nose to Tyson’s collarbone. 

It’s brighter out when Tyson next blinks himself awake. Madison’s already awake this time, scrolling quietly on her phone, but she sets it aside when she sees Tyson look at her. He rolls so he can prop himself up on one hand, leaning over Madison. She grins up at him, reaches to slide her fingers into Tyson’s hair.

Tyson has practice today, and then they’re leaving again. Those things aren’t important right now, though. What’s important is Madison’s mouth opening up to his, the pressure of her knee against his hip, the feel of her skin underneath his fingers when he slips a hand below her shirt. 

It takes them a while to get out of bed. 

Madison moves easily around Tyson when they finally make it into the kitchen. Tyson makes Madison coffee the way she likes it and mans the toaster while Madison makes them both eggs. She showers—Tyson bought all of her shower products weeks ago—while Tyson gets dressed. Tyson perches on the bathroom counter and watches while she does her makeup. She catches him looking at her.

“What?” she asks. She pushes her hair out of her face nervously. 

“Uh,” Tyson says. He had gotten caught up, wasn’t really thinking about anything, distracted by thoughts of how easily Madison moves through his space, by his side.

“Tyson,” Madison says, impatient.

“Do you, uh, maybe wanna go on a date with me?” Tyson manages. 

“Tys, you’re leaving on a road trip in,” she checks the time on her phone, “like four hours.”

Tyson rolls his eyes. “Okay, but we’ll be back in a few days. What about then?”

Madison smiles. “We’ll see, ask me when you get back.” 

“That’s not a real answer,” Tyson says. He can hear himself whining. He needs this answer before he can board a plane, though. He grabs her wrist and tugs her closer. “C’mon, am I really that bad?”

She goes easily into Tyson’s side. She pretends to think about it for a moment—too long for Tyson’s nerves—before relenting. “When you get back,” she says. She goes up on her toes to kiss Tyson’s cheek. “Now get out of here before you’re late to practice.”

They don’t get to go on that date.

He’s in California when he gets the call. Minnesota. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming. The deadline’s coming up in, like, a week, and besides. He’d asked for a trade, hadn’t he? He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone before he’s back on a plane, this time to St. Paul. 

He calls his mom first, asks if she’ll pack him some shit from his apartment in Denver. He was supposed to be back in just a few days. 

“I don’t have any clothes for fucking Minnesota,” he complains, his one moment of self-appointed wallowing. He’ll be happy about this, probably, he just needs to process it.

He doesn’t think about it when he turns his phone off before getting on the plane. He’s met by some people from the Wild—the team, his team, now—at the airport in St. Paul, hustled to a hotel near Xcel Center with his meager belongings and left to “settle in.” He’s expected at morning skate tomorrow; his jaw aches.

They’ve put him up in a nice hotel downtown. He can see a river—the Mississippi, he thinks— out his window. His phone’s still off, tossed on the bed when he came in. He swipes it off the comforter and powers it back on, shoving it and a room key in his pocket on his way out the door. 

His hotel room is too stuffy, too small. He takes the stairs and pushes his way outside. He can see the Xcel Center a few blocks away, and he turns his back to it, starts walking. He has no idea where he is or where he’s going. He hopes no one recognizes him. 

It’s not long before he finds himself in a park alongside the river. It’s quiet, and no one looks twice at him as he finds an empty bench and finally pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his notifications: texts from Kacey and his grandpa—he’ll have to respond to them—dozens from his—former—teammates on the Avs that he ignores, a handful from numbers he doesn’t have saved, Wild players introducing themselves and welcoming him to the team—he’ll have to make some new contacts. He swipes everything away to deal with later, once his head stops spinning. He pauses on one text, the only one he’d really been looking for.

So much for that date, huh. it says. She’s added a broken heart emoji to soften the blow. Then, an hour later, call me when you get the chance. Another emoji at the end, a black heart, even though Tyson’s told her repeatedly that he can mostly tell colors apart.

He already knows what she’s going to say. Can you get broken up with before you’re even dating? How do you make friends-with-benefits work long-distance? Tyson’s not in the mood for that conversation, doesn’t know if he ever will be. He swipes away her notifications, too. 

Minnesota is chilly, and Tyson’s fingertips are a little numb by the time his hotel room door slams behind him later. It’s getting dark. He should order dinner. He should do a lot of things, actually. He lets himself wallow for a few more minutes, flopped on his back in the center of the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling.

He halfheartedly peruses the room service menu on his nightstand before calling something in. He’s not even sure what he ordered. 

Tyson’s woken up by knocking on his door. He blinks awake and stumbles blearily out of bed. It’s fully dark in his room now. Room service knocks on his door again. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Tyson grumbles, not even loud enough to be heard, probably. 

His food is lukewarm at best by the time he gets everything spread out on the little desk in his room. Tyson picks at it more than he eats it.

Back in Denver, Madison’s phone doesn’t ring. She figured Tyson would be busy and exhausted by the time he made it to Minnesota. She wants to check in, but her messages show that they’ve been read. He’s made it clear that he’s not in the mood to chat. 

It’s fine. He’s allowed to be upset over all this. Madison had just thought that they’d made it far enough in their relationship—whatever that relationship was—that she wouldn’t get stonewalled the second something serious happened. 

She hasn’t had a chance to return Tyson’s spare key to Cale yet. She’d stayed behind after Tyson left for the airport on his birthday to clean up some of the disaster they’d left behind the night before. She was going to give it back when they got home. Except now Tyson’s not coming home, and she isn’t sure he’ll speak to her again, either. 

She tries to convince herself she’s not hurt by it. 

Madison sneaks back into Tyson’s apartment the day after the trade. She’s collected some of Tyson’s clothes over the last few months, and she should pick up her own belongings that have become scattered across his apartment. She’s not sure how Tyson’s going to get the rest of his stuff to Minnesota, but she knows it’s not her problem. Tyson’s made that clear. 

She opens the text thread with Tys 🖤 again anyway. No new messages. She starts to type, to ask how Tyson’s doing, if he wants to talk, but she deletes it all. She closes her text thread with him again.

Madison wanders around the apartment, collecting things she recognizes as her own: her toothbrush, a half dozen ponytail holders that Tyson delights in tearing out of her hair to make out, the makeup remover that Tyson bought after she fell asleep there the first time and left makeup all over his pillowcase. She leaves the clothes she dug out of her closet and drawers folded on the end of his bed. She keeps one of his hoodies, because it’s comfy and it smells like him. It’s an Avs hoodie, anyway; it’s not like he’ll need it. The cookie cake she bought for his birthday is still sitting on the counter. They’d eaten it with breakfast on his actual birthday, but it was otherwise untouched. She figures someone will be by soon to pack up his apartment. She leaves it on the counter for them, whoever it is.

She locks the door behind her. It feels final in a way that she hates. 

Tyson drags himself to morning skate early the next morning. He doesn’t feel like he slept much, though he fell asleep before he ever got around to responding to anyone’s texts. He makes no less than four wrong turns trying to find the home locker room in Xcel Center. The equipment staff has a locker set up for him already, all of his new gear waiting for him when he finds it. Tyson stares at the white practice jersey for a long moment, the green helmet already fitted with his full face shield and new number. He’s the only one in the locker room so far.

Tyson feels himself smile for the first time in what feels like days. 

Skate passes in a blur. Tyson throws himself into everything the coaches ask of him, trying his best to learn a new team on the fly. His muscles ache from all the travel in the last few days and the lack of sleep, but he leans into the pain with a grin. It’s fun, in a weird way, and everyone’s quick to chirp Tyson, make him feel like he’s already a real part of the team. 

Madison watches the Wild’s game that night. Tyson’s still in his little fishbowl after the broken jaw, and Madison winces every time he takes a check, even though she knows he’s fine, really. Minnesota wins. She doesn’t watch any of their other games, or follow Minnesota on any socials. She considers blocking Tyson’s phone number, the last message she sent to him still sitting open and unreplied to. 

She can’t bring herself to do it. 

Tyson’s mom, ever the lifesaver, arrives a few days later with most of the contents of his closet in tow. She’s also brought the cookie cake Madison had bought him for his birthday. It’s half-eaten and stale, now, reading only “-hday, Tys!” He eats a piece, anyway, and his mom doesn’t ask who bought it for him. She doesn’t ask any questions, actually, which Tyson is grateful for. He’s told her bits and pieces about Madison over the last few months, but he hasn’t told her how he’s fallen in love. It doesn’t matter now.

Tyson’s trying to unpack, give himself some semblance of “home” in his stale hotel room, when a piece of paper falls out of the pocket of one of his suit jackets. He picks it up and carefully unfolds it, though he already knows what it says. good luck tonight! ♡ in Madison’s pretty cursive. She’d tucked it into his suit before a game in January, and Tyson had scored a goal that night. He slipped it back in the inside pocket of the suit jacket. Maybe it’ll bring him luck in Minnesota, too. 

Madison’s phone rings late one night, a few weeks after Tyson’s been traded. It’s the first time she’s heard from him since he left Denver. She squints at her phone screen in the dark, debating ignoring it. Tyson’s face grins up at her, a stupid selfie he had taken ages ago. She swipes to answer with a sigh.

“Tyson, if you’re just calling because you’re drunk or something, I swear—” she starts. She’s not really sure what she’ll do to Tyson, actually, so she trails off. 

Tyson’s quiet on the other end of the line. Madison hears him take a shaky breath, but he still doesn’t speak for a long moment. “The Avs are in town,” he says finally. “Game’s tomorrow night,” he adds. 

Madison hasn’t really been paying attention to either team’s schedule lately. She hasn’t had much reason to. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to say here, what’s the right answer to comfort Tyson. She might’ve once, but she feels wrong-footed now, unsure of where they stand.

“You gonna see anyone?” she asks.

Tyson huffs. “Yeah, I got dinner with some of them tonight.” He pauses. “They’re still my friends, y’know, it’s not like they’re the ones who traded me.”

Madison hums, something like agreement. She thinks she can hear the hurt in Tyson’s voice, even though he’s trying to hide it. He’s still talking. “I’ve just…never had to play against my best friends like this before.”

“Oh, Tys,” Madison says softly. “That sucks, babe.” The familiar endearment slips out before she can stop herself. 

“Yeah, it sucks alright,” Tyson agrees. He’s quiet again. “Wish you could be here, too. Miss you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Madison says. With the game tomorrow, Tyson might not be drunk, but it’s late, and he’s wallowing in missing his friends. She doesn’t think she really qualifies as that anymore.

“What do you mean?” Tyson asks, indignant. “Of course I mean it.”

“Is that why this is the first time we’ve spoken since you got traded? Two weeks ago?” Madison’s angry, suddenly; that small spark of hurt she’s been trying to bury flares into fury. 

She can practically hear Tyson’s wince on the other end of the line. It’s too late to be arguing, but this is where they’re at now. 

“Sorry for not wanting to get dumped hours after I got shipped off to fucking Minnesota,” Tyson snaps back, but he sounds tired. The fight leaves Madison just as quickly as it appeared. “Who said anything about breaking up?”

Tyson’s quiet. Madison can picture the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s thinking too hard. “You asked me to call you!”

“I asked you to call me because I wanted to check on you, dumbass.” Madison rubs at her eyes. They should both be asleep, but now she feels too awake to hang up, to end this conversation. She might be annoyed, but it’s the first time she’s heard Tyson’s voice in weeks. She’s missed it, though she’s not about to admit that right now. “How can I even break up with a guy I’ve never been on a real date with?” she asks.

“Oh.” 

“It’s been a wild fucking month for you, Tys, I wanted to talk to you and see how you were handling shit,” Madison continues.

Tyson realizes now might not be the best time to admit that he’d requested a trade. This had still blindsided him, somehow. He considers switching to a FaceTime call. He desperately wants to see Madison’s face, the next best thing to being with her right now, getting to touch her. He winces again when she sniffles on the other end of the line. He’d been lonely when he called her, expecting some sympathy, not the anger he was met with. 

He guesses he probably should’ve considered she’d be mad at him after moving over 900 miles away and then giving her radio silence for two weeks, actually. He taps the FaceTime button a little harder than necessary. He’s almost surprised when Madison accepts the request.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been busy,” he says weakly. “I didn’t think—I just figured you were wanting to tell me that we couldn’t keep doing this.” It seems obvious given the distance, but Tyson really hadn’t been in the mood to get effectively broken up with twice in one day. 

Madison’s eyes burn as she swipes at them, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the late hour, or if she’s about to cry. 

Tyson realizes something. “Besides, you had just gotten spooked and tried to slow things down, I didn’t think you’d want to jump from just hooking up to long-distance.” It’s too dark for him to tell if she’s crying. He hopes she isn’t. 

“That was—” Madison starts to protest. But Tyson’s right. It had only been a few weeks since she’d panicked about how fast they were headed towards a real relationship. That had been before the broken jaw, before Tyson’s birthday, before he got traded. Before Madison had the chance to realize just how much she cared about Tyson, and liked Tyson, and how much she missed him when he wasn’t just a text away.

“I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend for real, you know? On that date? But then I was in Minnesota, and I hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to anyone, and I wasn’t ready to talk about anything.” Madison opens her mouth to argue more, but Tyson cuts her off. “You want to know how I’m handling shit? Not well,” he admits.

Hockey is hockey, but he’s not sure Minnesota will ever feel like home the way Denver still does. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Madison blurts.

Tyson laughs in spite of himself. “So many things,” he says. It’s easy, for a second, to forget they’re arguing. Fuck, he wishes Madison were with him, and not for the first, or the third, or the tenth time since he’s been in Minnesota. “I guess I should’ve texted instead of shutting you out, huh? I just never knew what to say.”

“You’re an idiot,” Madison says softly. “I really did just want to check on you. But you left me on read, and then a few days had passed, so I guess you’d made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to talk. I didn’t even think about worrying about our future then.” 

Tyson squeezes his eyes shut. He’s blurry on Madison’s phone screen, but she can tell his hair is a disaster, like he’s been anxiously pulling on his curls.

“Did I accidentally break up with you to avoid being broken up with?” he asks. He sounds like he’s on the verge of laughter. Or maybe tears. Madison can’t quite tell, actually. 

“Mmm, I think so, babe,” Madison says. She rolls over in bed, stifling a yawn. It’s late in Denver, but it’s even later in St. Paul, she thinks. “Hey, you need to sleep. “You’ve gotta beat the Avs tomorrow.” She glances at the clock in the corner of her screen. “Well. Today, I guess.”

Tyson sticks his tongue out at her, but he snuggles deeper into his pillows. “Can I call you later?” His voice is small.

“Yeah, Tys.” They’ve got a lot more to talk about. “Say hi to JT and Cale for me, yeah?” she says.

Tyson grins at her. He stops himself from saying, “I love you,” before he hangs up, but only barely, settling on, “Good night,” instead. There’s still time for the other one, he thinks

The game is…fine. They slap a microphone on Tyson before he goes out on the ice, and it’s definitely weird facing off against some of his best friends, but he gets through it. He doesn’t score, but he doesn’t land in the penalty box either, so. He spends some time attempting to chirp an exasperated EJ that he’ll probably get made fun of for later. Oh, and the Wild win. Tyson guesses it’s an okay night, after all. 

Tyson misses Denver, misses playing at the Can, but after facing off against his friends on the still-unfamiliar ice in Minnesota, he’s not sure he can handle returning. 

Madison finds herself watching the Avs game for the first time in weeks, but she’s not watching for them. She’s paying attention to all of Tyson’s shifts, and she realizes halfway through the game that she’s completely rooting against the Avs. 

The final buzzer has barely blown when she’s pulling out her phone to text Tyson. She hesitates for a moment, unsure of the right thing to say. She feels like they finally made progress last night after Tyson stonewalled her for weeks, but they’re still a half dozen steps behind where they were in the beginning of March. She somehow knows more than she did before Tyson called her, but she feels like she understands their relationship even less now. 

She must type four or five messages before she settles on, great win :) 🖤. She kind of hates it as soon as she sends it, but she can’t take it back. She tosses her phone to the other end of the couch before she can obsess over waiting for Tyson to text her back. She doesn’t have to wait long, though, before her phone is vibrating near her feet. She takes one breath, then another, before scrambling for her phone again. Tyson’s texted back, thanks babe. Then, less than a minute later, wish you were here. 

Madison stares at her phone, chewing on her bottom lip. She doesn’t know the right thing to say once again. ‘Me too’ feels too earnest, ‘wish you were still here instead’ feels mean somehow. She still doesn’t know when she’ll see Tyson again, if she’ll see Tyson again. All she has is a version of Tyson through a screen. Her thumb hovers over the call button. Tyson’s probably busy with post-game stuff, Madison reminds herself. She misses his voice, though.

She finally settles on: :). She waits anxiously until Tyson has read it before sending: Call me later?

She checked the Wild’s schedule already; they’re in town for a few more days. Tyson will probably be heading straight home—wherever “home” is these days— after the game. She spares a moment to wonder about the future of Tyson’s old apartment in Denver. She wonders if it’s been emptied out yet, wiped clean of all traces of Tyson, of them. That had been home to Tyson, and it had almost started to feel like home to Madison, too. 

Tyson sends her back a thumbs up emoji and an emoji with its tongue sticking out. Madison rolls her eyes fondly and tosses her phone back to the end of her couch. 

She’s dozing when her phone rings. Half-asleep, she fumbles for it before answering. “‘Lo?” she mumbles. 

Tyson chuckles softly at her. “You asked me to call you and then fell asleep,” he says, tsk-ing. 

Madison sticks her tongue out at him, even though he can’t see her. “Shut up, it’s late,” she whines. 

“Then go to bed, Mads,” Tyson tells her. She can tell he’s trying not to laugh at her.

Madison feels like a toddler protesting bedtime, but she says, “No! I wanna talk to you.”

Tyson laughs again. “Okay, are you at least in bed already?”

“...No.”

“Go brush your teeth, and get in bed, yeah? We can keep talking then.”

Madison sighs but heaves herself off her couch and into her bathroom. Tyson starts chatting as she walks, mindless stuff, like the weather in St. Paul, or how bored he is of living in a hotel room still. Madison puts him on speaker and sets her phone next to the sink so she can keep listening while she washes her face and brushes her teeth. It almost feels like getting ready for bed alongside Tyson again, elbowing each other for space in front of his bathroom mirror. 

He falls quiet as she crawls underneath her blankets. Madison stifles a yawn.

“How was it?” she asks.

“The game?” Madison nods, forgetting again that Tyson can’t see her. Tyson continues anyway. “I mean, it was fine, I guess. We won, so.”

“Just fine?” Madison prods.

Tyson hesitates. “Weird,” he says after a few seconds. “It was weird. Feels like a Twilight Zone episode, honestly. Like I woke up one day in some other life that everyone else swears didn’t happen. Like, you get traded, and everyone expects you to immediately fit in with this new locker room, and be all in with your new team. As if all the games played with your friends never even happened.”

Madison doesn’t know what to say to that. It must be weird to have to effectively sever all ties with your best friends. To know and trust the face across the faceoff dot from you. She probably couldn’t handle it if she were in Tyson’s place,

“I’m sorry, Tys,” she murmurs, for lack of anything better to say. “It’s business, but business is shitty.” 

Tyson huffs in agreement. Madison’s wearing the hoodie she stole from Tyson, and she tucks her nose underneath the collar. It doesn’t smell like Tyson any more. 

“Hey, is now a bad time to ask if we can have phone sex?” Tyson asks.

Madison bursts out laughing. “Yes, Tyson, it’s a terrible time.” Tyson whines a little at her. “Though,” she adds, “I am wearing one of your hoodies.”

Tyson groans. The few times Madison had worn something of his around him, it usually wasn’t long before the clothes ended up back on the floor.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he says. His voice is muffled like he’s buried his head underneath a pillow.

Madison yawns again.

“You need to go to sleep,” Tyson tells her gently.

“No,” Madison protests again. “Tell me more about Minnesota,” she pleads. “I’ve missed listening to you.”

Madison can’t read Tyson’s moment of silence, but he starts doing as he’s told, telling Madison more about his hotel, about the food in the locker room after games at Xcel Center and how different it is from Denver, about all the different personalities on the team, until Madison falls asleep. 

Madison wakes up to a dead phone. She plugs it in while she showers, and she immediately checks her call log. Tyson had kept talking for well over an hour. He texted her, too, after he’d hung up. Miss you, promise we’ll talk more soon.

Madison responds the only way she knows how: 🖤.

April

The end of the season passes in a blur after that. Tyson settles in as best he can, but he feels like he barely has time to catch his breath. With the end of the season and the playoffs looming, there’s no time for Tyson to find a real place to live, so he’s still holed up in the hotel, living out of suitcases.

Time moves differently in hotels, he swears, the days blurring into one another. Tyson no longer knows what day it is; it’s only travel day, or game day, or rarely, a day off. 

The Wild are winning more than they lose, and Tyson manages to pick up some points here and there. It could be worse. At least it’s not, like, Buffalo. 

The team goes on the road for the first time since he got there, and it’s a good chance for Tyson to get to know everyone a little better, spend some time out of his generic hotel room—even if he goes back to another generic hotel room after each dinner out with the guys. He makes a point to call Madison as much as he can, which is almost every night after he crashes into bed and turns on some shitty TV. 

Their phone calls end up lasting for hours. Tyson realizes that he and Madison spent more time hooking up than really getting to know each other. It’s nice to take the time to just talk and learn things about Madison. Tyson feels himself falling in love more with each phone call.

Tyson talks about his family—his sister, his mom, his grandparents. How much he misses them with the long seasons away. How much he’s looking forward to going home to Alberta when the season ends. He doesn’t tell Madison that he wants to bring her home with him this summer, not yet. 

Madison tells Tyson about everything: her job (graphic design and marketing for a local business Tyson vaguely thinks he recognizes), her family (two sisters, one of whom Tyson briefly met), and her favorite movies (Lord of the Rings, but Tyson could have guessed that). When she tells him she likes to bake, Tyson immediately demands that she sends him some. He’s not even sure if he can get mail at the hotel, actually. Not important.

Tyson throws himself into hockey, though he’s not sure how much it shows. He’s determined to make this work, to stick and make a difference in Minnesota the way he never quite could in Colorado. He tells Madison this, too, voicing fears about his future in hockey that he’s never even let himself think about too much. 

The Wild plays the Avalanche again in St. Paul on the last day of the season. Tyson’s dreading it. He’s privately more than a little glad that they’re not playing the Avs in the first round, but he still can’t help but feel like he should be there instead, still on a powerhouse team poised to take on the postseason, not the underdogs.

Tyson calls Madison a week before the game, laying in bed, fresh off a single assist in back to back wins against Vancouver and Seattle. Tyson can hear the smile in Madison’s voice when she answers. Tyson’s chest hurts with how much he misses her.

Which is probably why he blurts, “Can you come to Minnesota?” 

Madison’s quiet for so long Tyson pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect. 

Finally, she says, “Tyson, I can’t just drop everything and fly to Minnesota.” “No, I know, I just meant next week,” he says. “We play the Avs again.”

Madison knows that, this time. She’s actually started paying attention to the Wild—mostly just Tyson, though—since April started.

“That’s a Friday night, Tys,” she tells him. “I’d have to take off work for the day.” She could, probably, without too much fuss. She just wants to hear Tyson beg a little. She’s still a tiny bit hurt by the way he stonewalled her after the trade. 

“I’ll pay for your plane ticket!” Tyson adds. That wasn’t really Madison’s point. “I really want you to be there, I need to see you again.” 

Madison already knows she can’t tell Tyson no. She sighs and drags her laptop towards her. She starts searching for plane tickets. “Just for the game on Friday, or am I allowed to stay the whole weekend?” she asks.

Tyson scoffs. “Like I’d let you leave after one night when I haven’t seen you in two like two months.” He’s already planning on only leaving the hotel room except for practice and maybe to finally take Madison on an actual date. Actually: “Hey, pack something nice to wear. I still owe you a date.”

Madison laughs. “How nice are we talking?”

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna wine and dine you so hard,” Tyson says, breaking off into laughter before he can even finish the sentence. 

Madison spends the next week, alternating between excited and anxious. Excited because she hasn’t seen Tyson in weeks, and she can’t wait to be able to kiss him again. She’s not sure why she’s even worried. She and Tyson have already spent months doing almost everything couples do, just without the label. They already know they work well together. Adding a label shouldn’t change things. 

She goes out and buys a new dress the day before her flight, after frantically deciding that nothing in her closet was good enough for a first date.

“He already knows what you look like,” her sister Emma points out. “It’s not like you have to worry about him liking you. Also, he’s colorblind.”

Madison ignores her (annoyingly correct) sister and spends almost over an hour in the mall. She carefully packs the new dress at the top of her suitcase before zipping it up and leaving it by her front door. She’s so excited she can hardly sleep.

It’s not a long flight from Denver to Minnesota, but Madison’s not used to flying, and the whole affair has her stressed beyond belief. It takes her unbelievably long to find her gate, and even though she got to KDEN plenty early, she still worries that she’ll be late. It’s a relief when she can finally settle in her seat. She turns on a Disney movie she doesn’t really watch and counts the minutes until she can see Tyson again.

Except then she can’t find her luggage, and Tyson’s supposed to be picking her up and isn’t answering her texts. It takes her twenty minutes to find out that another passenger mistakenly took her suitcase and has brought it back, and Tyson still hasn’t responded to tell her that he’s waiting.

She makes her way outside anyway, following the signs towards parking. Her hands are too full with her carry-on and suitcase to reach for her phone to call Tyson, but when she steps outside her terminal, she recognizes the person behind the wheel of a car just pulling up to the curb.

Tyson has the car in park and is jumping out before Madison can take another step. She’s so overwhelmed she bursts into tears.

She drops her bags to launch herself at Tyson, wrapping her arms around his neck. He doesn’t stumble, just slides his arms around her waist and hugs her back.

“Whoa, whoa, why the tears?” he asks, wiping one away with his thumb. 

“I just really missed you,” Madison mumbles into his shirt.

Tyson presses a kiss to her hair. He unwraps one hand and reaches for the handle of Madison’s suitcase. “Well, let’s get you in the car, and then we can talk, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer, letting go of Madison fully to swing her suitcase into the trunk. Madison slips into the passenger seat while he throws her carry-on in, too, before he’s jogging back to the driver’s side. He leans across the console to kiss Madison’s cheek.

“Missed you, too, by the way,” he says.

Madison feels silly for crying now. Everything always seems better when Tyson’s around, and right now is no exception, with the windows rolled down and Tyson singing loudly—and badly—to the song on the radio. Tyson reaches for Madison’s hand, and she lets him slip his fingers between hers. Something restless in Madison’s chest settles when he touches her. 

They don’t much as Tyson drives, the city flashing by out the car windows. It’s been ages since they saw each other, but they talk almost every day; there’s not much to catch up on. Madison likes it, the comfortable quiet between two people who know each other well. 

Tyson apologizes for the fact that he’s still living in a hotel on the elevator ride up to his room. 

“Tyson, I don’t care where you’re living, I’m just glad to be able to see you again,” she tells him.

Tyson blushes, but he also boxes her in against the elevator wall to kiss her properly for the first time since she got off the plane. Madison trails after him as he heads down the hallway and pushes open his hotel room door with a dorky sweep of his arm. 

The room’s bigger than Madison expected, with a kitchenette that doesn’t look like it’s been used at all, and a little couch and desk near the TV. Madison can see the bed, sheets rumpled and twisted like Tyson has never bothered to make it in the weeks he’s been here. Tyson’s watching Madison survey the room like he’s nervous. 

“So, what’s next?” Madison asks. 

With the game last night, Tyson didn’t have skate today, but she’s familiar enough with his game day routine to know he should probably be napping soon. She could go for a nap herself. Madison doesn’t wait for an answer, just dumps her carry-on bag on the couch and wanders over to the bed. Tyson follows, still rolling Madison’s suitcase behind him. Madison flops backwards onto the bed. The sheets smell like Tyson.

“Well?” she asks, raising one eyebrow at him.

Tyson scrambles onto the bed after her. He drops to his elbows above Madison and leans down to kiss her, eager and not exactly gentle. Madison reaches up to thread her fingers into his curls. She runs her fingers through his hair once, twice, before closing her hand and tugging. Tyson groans into her mouth, but he gentles the kiss. They make out until they’re both breathless, and Tyson has to pull away. 

“I really should nap,” he says once he catches his breath. Madison tilts her chin up for another kiss. Tyson rolls his eyes but obliges, just a quick peck. He shifts his weight to one hand and pinches the outside of Madison’s thigh with the other. “C’mon, I wanna cuddle.”

They both clamber up the bed until Madison can collapse onto the pillows. Tyson collapses on top of her. 

“Oof, bud, what the hell,” she manages. Tyson’s heavy, and it’s hard to breathe. 

“Told you I wanted to cuddle,” Tyson says back, face smushed into Madison’s collarbone.

Madison pokes Tyson in the ribs, then again, harder, when he doesn’t react, until he sighs and squirms off her. Her reprieve doesn’t long, though, because Tyson immediately reaches out for Madison and pulls her close. She rolls onto her side to face him, and he grins at her. 

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him.

Tyson’s grin only grows. “Yeah, but you like me.”

Madison slides a hand around the back of Tyson’s neck and kisses him. 

When Tyson's alarm goes off later, they’ve shifted in their sleep, and Tyson’s half-laying on top of Madison again. He slaps at his phone without moving and somehow manages to snooze the alarm. 

“Not ready yet,” Madison mumbles, wrapping an arm around Tyson and keeping him close. He huffs a laugh against Madison’s skin. 

“I’ve gotta get ready, baby,” he says. He kisses Madison’s shoulder.

Madison should probably get up, too. She wants to shower the plane funk off and make herself presentable for the game. But Tyson’s bed is really comfy. Tyson rolls off of her, and Madison whines at the loss of her human blanket.

Tyson shoots her an amused look. He leans back over Madison to kiss her one more time, but he avoids her attempts at dragging him back to bed. Madison pouts up at him. It doesn’t work. She watches from the bed as Tyson gets dressed in his gameday suit. He kisses her goodbye before he leaves. 

Left alone in the eerie silence of the hotel, Madison forces herself out of bed and into the shower. She brings her Bluetooth speaker with her, blasting one of her playlists loud enough to be heard over the water. She emerges in a cloud of steam to dig through her suitcase for the outfit she’d packed for tonight. She doesn’t own anything Wild-branded, and she doesn’t think wearing Tyson’s old Avalanche hoodie would go over too well. She’d had to buy something new for this, too: an amazing fleece-lined green corduroy jacket that she’d probably live in come fall. 

She takes the opportunity to poke around the hotel room a little, looking for traces of Tyson in the unfamiliar space. One of the blankets from his apartment was thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed. His ukulele sits on top of the desk. Madison hangs her date-night dress up in the little closet and finds her own good luck note to Tyson taped to the door. The kitchenette is full of Tyson’s snacks, including some of Madison’s favorites. It’s not much, but it’s enough. 

Madison eventually makes her way to the Xcel Center. She’s met by someone’s significant other outside—it’s a blur of faces and names she can hardly keep track of—before they head to their seats. She’d gotten used to the atmosphere at The Can, and Xcel Center is different but the same. It’s easy enough to settle into the rhythm of the game and the crowd. The game is wild from puck drop, but Minnesota manages to pull out a win. Tyson even scores the game winning goal. 

She follows the rest of the girls downstairs to the family room after the game. She’s restless, full of energy after the game, with no outlet for it. She all but tackles Tyson when he pokes his head in, stripped down to his base layers, but his curls still plastered to his head with sweat. 

“Whoa,” he says, steadying her as they tumble out into the hallway. He’s grinning at her, cheeks pink. He lets Madison pin him up against the wall opposite them. “Hi.”

Madison kisses him, before she can blurt something embarrassing, like, “I love you,” or, “That goal was hot.” Tyson makes a surprised noise into her mouth but kisses back easily, his hands tightening on her hips. He pulls away after a minute.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he whispers, kissing her temple. Louder, he says, “JT has requested to see you.”

Madison’s a little surprised, but pleased, to hear that. She’s hung out with JT a handful of times since she met him back in January, but she doesn’t think she’s talked to him since Tyson got traded. It had always felt more like JT was just a friend of a friend she got along with.

Tyson drags her down the halls towards the visitors’ locker room, JT’s already waiting for them, leaning against the door frame and messing around on his phone. Unlike Tyson, he’s dressed in clean clothes. He looks up as they approach and grins at them. Tyson doesn’t let go of Madison’s hand. 

JT ropes Madison into a one-armed hug. “Think you’re Josty’s good luck charm. He’s scored twice now at games you’ve been to.” Tyson sticks his tongue out at JT.

Someone from inside the locker room yells Tyson’s name, and he’s momentarily distracted. JT leans in closer to Madison.

“Take care of our boy, yeah?” he says, quietly so Tyson, who’s still talking to someone else, won’t hear. “He needs you.” 

Madison’s not sure how to respond to that. She’s saved by Tyson remembering they’re there. JT smacks a kiss to Madison’s cheek and nudges her back towards Tyson. 

“See you around?” he asks Tyson.

“C’mon, you know you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Madison watches them hug, and then Tyson’s leading her back down the maze of hallways. He says something to her before dropping her off outside the family room, but she doesn’t really hear it, lost in her own thoughts, thinking about JT’s words.

She’s still thinking about what JT said when Tyson rejoins her, as they make their way back to the hotel, up the elevator and into Tyson’s hotel room. She and Tyson move quietly, easily, around each other as they start to change out of their game-day clothes. She’s still lost in her thoughts when Tyson hooks his chin over her shoulder, startling her as she’s taking her makeup off. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He looks worried. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

Madison shrugs. “Nothing.”

Madison watches in the mirror as Tyson’s brow furrows further. “Did something happen?” Madison knows he’d been worried about how the Wild WAGs would receive her.

She shrugs Tyson’s chin off her shoulder, suddenly annoyed. “No, Tys, nothing happened.”

Nothing did happen, unless you count JT Compher’s casual words sending Madison into a spiral. 

Tyson slides between Madison and the sink. He crosses his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Madison rolls her eyes, but gives Tyson a quick peck, before hip checking him out of the way so she can brush her teeth. Tyson watches, still suspicious. Madison ushers him towards the bed. He sits and drags Madison into his lap. He frowns up at her.

“Tys, really. Everything was just overwhelming, I guess.” Also not a lie; she’d never been to a hockey game as Tyson’s girlfriend—or, almost-girlfriend—and everything had been overwhelming in a way she hadn’t expected. Most things had been the same, but sitting with the rest of the wives and girlfriends and listening to them ask her questions about her life and job had almost felt like a well-meaning interrogation. 

“Promise?”

Madison kisses Tyson, slow and gentle. “Promise.”

She yelps when Tyson flips them suddenly. He rolls on top of her, propping himself up on his hands. Madison can tell that he’s not letting this go.

“Then what’s wrong?” He chews nervously on his lower lip for a moment. “And don’t say nothing, I know you’re lying.” 

Madison huffs. “Just something JT said.” She shoves at Tyson’s shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. His glasses are crooked from his acrobatics, and Madison reaches up to adjust those next. He swats at her hand.

“I’ll kill him,” he says confidently.

“First, I think JT would beat you in a fight,” Madison says. Tyson makes a noise of protest, and Madison slaps a hand over his mouth. “Second, it wasn’t anything bad, I don’t know, just made me think.”

Tyson pries Madison’s hand away. “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” he says.

He’s distracted enough that Madison can hook a leg over his hips and flip them back over. She settles across his lap as Tyson blinks dazedly up at her.

“He asked me to take care of you, said you need me, whatever.” Madison’s trying to brush it off, as if she hadn’t spent hours thinking about it, as if she doesn’t feel uncomfortably seen. Far too vulnerable for something that was supposed to just be a hook-up way back in November. 

They’ve come a long way since November.

Tyson’s face clears. “What do you mean, ‘whatever?’” He surges up to kiss Madison before he continues. “Of course I need you. I fucking miss you constantly. I’ve wanted literally nothing but to be around you, like, all the time since, like, December.”

“Oh.” Madison should have realized that, maybe. It’s different to hear Tyson lay it out like that. “I didn’t realize,” she whispers. Tyson grins up at her. “You did kinda ghost me for a while there,” she points out.

Tyson groans. “I am never gonna hear the end of that, am I?” He runs his fingers through Madison’s hair, tugs a little at the ends. “I panicked because I was terrified of losing you, remember?” He punctuates his sentence with another gentle kiss. His hand slips from Madison’s hair to her waist, underneath her T-shirt. He’s missed the feeling of her underneath his hands. An emotion Madison can’t read crosses his face for a second before he says, “Do you—do you not—?” Feel the same way, is what he means to say, but can’t quite get out.

Madison understands him, anyway. “No, God, Tyson, no.” She hesitates; she supposes they’re laying it all on the line here. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Tyson surprises her by bursting out laughing. Hurt, Madison tries to squirm out of Tyson’s lap, but he reels her in and kisses her until she melts into his hands.

“Baby, I’ve been in love with you since you showed up at my door for a Lord of the Rings marathon.” He giggles a little and kisses Madison’s nose. “We’ve done this all backwards, haven’t we?” 

Madison giggles a little too and nods. “I don’t think we’re very good at all this,” she whispers.

Tyson shakes his head, still laughing. “We’ll get better. I mean, look at us, we’re already communicating more!”

Madison kissed him again to shut him up, but by then they were both too busy laughing to take it much farther. Madison collapses to the sheets next to Tyson, letting herself dissolve into giggles. It feels good to laugh like this with Tyson, the last bit of uneasy tension Madison didn’t even know existed disappearing at last. Madison feels delirious with it: the stress of the last few weeks, the long day of travel and hockey, the raw vulnerability of finally being honest with Tyson.

They laugh for longer than the situation warrants. Tyson eventually heaves a sigh and turns his head on his pillow to look at Madison, eyes uncharacteristically serious. Madison sucks in a breath and forces herself to stop laughing.

“I mean it, you know,” Tyson says. “I’ve been falling for you for a long time.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, props himself up on an elbow. “I guess this means you’re officially my girlfriend now, huh?”

“Huh, guess so.” Tyson beams at her. “Don’t think this gets you out of wining and dining me tomorrow, though,” she threatens. 

Tyson leans down to kiss Madison. “I don’t put out on the first date,” he murmurs.

Madison drags him closer, slots her mouth against his again. “Bit late for that, babe.”

Madison wakes up late the next morning, bright sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. Tyson’s already awake, sitting up against the headboard and fucking around on his phone. He never got dressed besides finding his boxers, and his glasses are slipping down his nose. He grins down at her when he realizes she’s awake. 

“You’re a dork,” Madison says, rolling over to bury her face in a pillow again. Tyson pokes her shoulder blade, and she turns her head enough to glare at him. 

“Brunch in bed, or go somewhere?” Tyson asks, poking Madison again.

Madison’s not wearing anything, either, and she’d have to shower and fix her hair before they could leave the hotel room. “Bed,” she says, burrowing back into her pillow. Actually, it might be one of Tyson’s pillows. It’s hers now.

Tyson chuckles and rolls out of bed to hunt down the room service menu. He orders a bunch of stuff that they can share, but makes sure to include an omelet for Madison. He learned a while ago that she always has to have an omelet with breakfast. He’s also learned not to question it. He jumps back onto the bed. Madison bounces with it, and turns once more to glare at him. 

Her hair’s a disaster, and Tyson thinks he can see a hickey he left low on her neck. He loves her so much. He remembers he can tell her that now.

“I love you,” he blurts. Madison’s face softens. “Also, breakfast in thirty.” He tugs a little on the sheet where it’s slipping down Madison’s shoulders. “Plenty of time for…”

“For what, Tyson?” Madison asks. She’s laughing, now, and she rolls over, letting Tyson slide between her thighs and kiss her, slow and easy. 

He has to fish his boxers out of the sheets again when room service knocks on the door, but it’s worth it.

Madison drags herself out of bed after they eat. Tyson’s promised her plans all day, so she and Tyson take turns showering and making themselves presentable. Tyson holds Madison’s hand from the door of the hotel room until they reach his car, and even then, he only lets go after he opens the door for her and kisses her on the cheek.

It’s a warm spring day, and Tyson drives with the windows down through downtown St. Paul. He refuses to tell Madison where he’s taking her.

“Can we at least get coffee if you’re going to kidnap me?” Madison whines.

“I don’t think it’s kidnapping if you willingly got in the car,” Tyson points out mildly. He pulls into the next Starbucks drive-thru he sees, though, so Madison’s pretty sure she wins the argument.

Placated with caffeine, she stops pestering Tyson for details, but it’s only another few minutes before he’s turning into a parking lot for Como Park Zoo.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” Madison asks. She’d idly mentioned, a while ago, that she wanted to visit the Denver Zoo when it got warmer. She had no idea that Tyson would remember that.

Tyson smirks at her. “I think it’s a little smaller than Denver Zoo—”

Madison cuts him off. “Shut up, it’s gonna be great.”

And it is great. Madison all but runs between animal exhibits, and Tyson’s more than happy to be dragged along by the hand, even though he thinks his nose is getting sunburned. They entertain themselves by naming the animals after his old teammates.

“You can’t name them all EJ,” Madison says at one point. 

“Well, why not?” Tyson argues. Madison…doesn’t have a good argument for that, actually.

There’s gardens, too, and they wander through those after they’ve looped around the zoo, holding hands the whole time. Madison’s pretty sure she enjoys the flowers more than Tyson, but he waits good-naturedly when she stops to point out a pretty flower or to take some pictures. It all feels like a date, which Madison supposes it is, actually.

“Hey, wait,” Tyson says suddenly, after Madison stands back up from taking a photo. “We should get a picture of us.” He snatches Madison’s phone from her hand. 

There’s an older couple nearby, and Tyson approaches them with a smile. Madison can hear him asking if one of them would mind, “taking a picture of me and my girlfriend?” She’s sure she’s blushing when Tyson comes back over and winds an arm around her waist. She smiles obligingly at the camera next to Tyson, and doesn’t even flinch when he turns and smacks a kiss to her cheek for the last one.

Tyson’s gracious and sweet as he takes Madison’s phone back, but he turns on Madison with an evil glint in his eye.

“Shut up,” Madison says, turning and walking away from Tyson so he can’t see that she’s still blushing.

Tyson jogs to keep up, spinning around and walking backwards so he can keep smirking at Madison. “You liked hearing me call you my girlfriend, huh?”

“Shut up,” Madison says again.

Tyson steps in front of Madison suddenly, blocking her path completely. She bumps into him. He’s still grinning. “Get used to it fast, because I can’t wait to tell everyone you’re my girlfriend.” Madison claps a hand over his mouth before he can literally start yelling about it. Tyson pries her hand away and uses it to pull her in for a kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs. The novelty of hearing that from Tyson hasn’t worn off, either.

Madison kisses him again because she can. 

They head out not long after that. Tyson starts insisting that they can’t be late for their dinner reservation, even though it’s still early afternoon. Madison lets him take her by the hand again and all but drag her back to the car. 

She’s suddenly tired once she’s sitting back in the passenger seat, the sun and the walking catching up to her. She rests her head on the window while Tyson drives, fighting back a yawn. Tyson still catches her, and he reaches across to poke her in the thigh. She swats half-heartedly at his hand.

“Do I have time to take a nap?” Madison murmurs.

“What? No way!” He pokes Madison harder. “I’m supposed to be wining and dining you, remember?” 

“But I’m sleepy,” Madison whines. She’ll rally, probably; she needs to complain a little first. Tyson pokes her harder.

“That’s not allowed,” Tyson says. It’s not a long drive back to the hotel, and they’re most of the way back there already. Tyson checks the time on the dashboard. There’s still a few hours before their dinner reservation. “Okay, how about a mini nap?” he allows. “But we’re setting like three alarms.” 

It’s important to him that he still gets this first date right, even if they have done their entire relationship backwards. They got to the right place in the end, though, right?

Madison crashes into bed as soon as they’re back in the room. Tyson considers her for a moment. She’s already wriggled under the sheets, but she’s lying directly in the middle of the bed.

Tyson collapses on top of Madison. He catches himself at the last second so he doesn’t completely crush her, because he’s nice like that. Madison giggles, but she squirms and tries to elbow Tyson.

Her voice is muffled into the pillow as she tries to say, “Get off me.”

Tyson lets his weight press her further into the mattress. “Nope, ‘m comfy.” He does fish his phone out of his pocket to set an alarm and roll off Madison. He pulls Madison close as soon as he lands on his side next to her. “Shh, sleep now.”

They’re both jolted awake half an hour later when Tyson’s alarm goes off. Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson kisses the top of her head where she’s tucked under his chin.

“We need to get up,” Tyson whispers. Madison blinks sleepily up at him. 

Tyson forces himself to disentangle himself from Madison. When she doesn’t get up after him, he grabs her by the ankles and drags her to the end of the bed, ignoring her laughter and shrieks.

Tyson follows Madison into the bathroom after she digs her makeup bag and curling iron out of her suitcase, plops himself down on the marble countertop of the sink. Madison raises her eyebrow at him as she plugs the curling iron in and turns it on. Tyson beams at her.

“I wanna watch,” Tyson says simply, still smiling innocently.

He does watch, intent on Madison as she starts to section her hair.

“What’s that for?” he asks. He hands Madison a hair clip.

She brandishes the curling iron at him. “So it’s easier to curl.” 

Tyson’s quiet for a few more minutes before he slides Madison’s makeup bag closer and starts pawing through it. He pulls items out one by one and starts asking questions, mostly more of, “What’s this for?”—a makeup sponge, eyeliner, one of those jumbo eyeshadow crayons—until most of the contents of Madison’s makeup bag are strewn across the counter around Tyson. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” Madison teases. Tyson snaps a compact of blush shut, surveys the damage he’s done. Madison’s momentarily distracted by Tyson’s shenanigans, and one of her fingers brushes across the hot barrel of the curling iron. “Ah, shit,” she hisses.

Tyson’s immediately serious. “Are you okay?” He grabs at Madison’s hand, bringing it close to his face to inspect her finger. Madison bites her lip to keep from laughing. Tyson frowns before carefully pulling Madison’s finger to his lips, kissing it gently. “There. All better.” 

“I love you,” Madison hears herself saying. She’s not used to being able to just say it. Tyson beams at her again.

Tyson behaves himself while Madison finishes her hair and makeup, though he does giggle at the faces Madison pulls while she’s trying to apply mascara. He even helps put away all the makeup he got out. He finally hops off the counter to start getting ready himself.

Madison grabs his wrist when he reaches for the bottle of hair gel. “Nope, I’m rescinding your gel privileges.” She dies a little inside every time she sees a new photo of Tyson and his curls smothered in gel. Tyson squirms, trying to free his hand; Madison tightens her grip.

“Just a little?” Tyson pleads. 

“No, I like your curls!” For emphasis, Madison cards her free hand through Tyson’s curls.

Tyson grumbles at her and tries to tamp his hair back down. “You’re gonna make it frizzy,” he complains. Madison is still tightly holding onto his wrist. “Ugh, fine, but just for tonight.” 

Madison releases his wrist and kisses Tyson’s cheek as she steps past him out of the bathroom. Tyson blinks at himself in the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened.

Madison’s changed into a dress when Tyson finally makes his way out of the bathroom, too, sitting on the edge of the bed to slide on a pair of heels. She watches Tyson change with a small smile on her face. Tyson takes Madison’s hand and pulls her to her feet, twirling her once before pulling her close for a kiss.

“Let’s fucking do this,” Tyson says, and Madison has to laugh.

Dinner is pretty nice, as first dates go. Tyson picked a good restaurant—good food, nice environment, but not so fancy Madison feels out of her depth—and Madison already knows that he’s good for conversation. The good thing about falling in love before you actually start dating is that you’ve already gotten the awkwardness and discomfort out of the way already, Madison supposes.

She’s even mostly immune to the sad eyes Tyson directs at her as he pleads his case for getting dessert. Mostly. (They end up splitting a slice of tiramisu.)

The weekend passes too quickly. Madison blinks and suddenly she’s standing in the middle of Tyson’s hotel room, trying to figure out if she’s forgotten to re-pack anything. 

“Stay,” Tyson begs. “A few more days, through the beginning of the series.”

“Tyson, I can’t, I have to get back to Denver for work, you know that.”

Tyson does know that, but he also hates coming back to a dark and empty hotel room every night after games. He tries to tackle Madison to the bed, but she side-steps Tyson and crosses her arms at him, disapproval in her eyes. Tyson feels a bit like a scolded child for a moment. 

“What if I refuse to drive you to the airport, huh? Then you’ll have to stay.” Tyson knows it’s a weak argument, but he’s desperate here. 

Madison’s glare softens. She cups Tyson’s face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Tyson, but I really have to go. I’ll see you soon, okay? We’ll figure something out.” She punctuates this with a kiss. Tyson leans into it, his hands tight on Madison’s waist. 

“Soon,” Tyson repeats. “I love you,” he adds.

Madison kisses him again, and Tyson slips a hand beneath her shirt, her skin warm beneath his hand. She shudders and kisses him harder. They both startle when the alarm Madison set to make sure they leave for the airport on time goes off. Tyson tries to follow her when she pulls away to silence it.

“Time to go,” Madison says sadly.

After Tyson drops Madison off at Departures, he’s grateful that she’s not there to see him wipe away some tears. 

May

Madison sees the Avs’ WAG jackets on Instagram the night they start the first round. The WIld had played the night before, an ugly loss Madison hadn’t been able to tear her attention away from. She could have had one of those jackets, sitting next to Syd and all the other girls. Instead, she’s back in her apartment in Denver, alone. 

She wishes she could have stayed in Minnesota with Tyson for the first two games of the series. She gets a text from Tyson after the game that’s just a thumbs down emoji. Madison “dislikes” it out of solidarity. Tyson doesn’t call her that night. Madison has to remind herself that it’s okay, that they don’t have to talk all the time.

She watches anxiously two nights later as the Wild drag out a win, clutching a glass of wine for emotional support the whole time. 

Before she can think too hard about it, Madison’s opening her laptop. She’s in the middle of searching flights to St. Louis when her phone rings. It’s Tyson, and Madison doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“I miss you,” she says, before Tyson can get a greeting out. She has perhaps had a little too much wine. 

He chuckles. “It’s been less than a week, baby.” But then he adds, “I miss you, too.”

Madison shoves her laptop away and flops backwards on her bed. Last minute plane tickets are so expensive. So are playoff hockey tickets, apparently. She wonders if it would be easier to just drive to St. Louis.

“Wish I could be there,” she says next, even though she had just turned down Tyson when he’d asked her to stay. 

“Yeah, me too,” Tyson says after a beat. He doesn’t offer to fly Madison out again, though Madison can tell he wants to.

She doesn’t tell him that she’s only a few clicks away from buying herself tickets and meeting him in Missouri. Though she should probably do it while she’s not sober, before she can talk herself out of it in the morning. 

“Oh, good game, by the way,” Madison remembers to say.

Tyson huffs. “Are you already in bed?” Tyson asks. Madison can hear him banging around his hotel room, tinny and muffled where her phone has slid off her pillow. 

“Sorta,” Madison tells him. She pulls her laptop closer again. She could fly out after work and make it to the arena without missing too much of the game, probably. She winces again at the outrageous prices for the game. There aren’t even any good seats left.

Tyson speaks again. “Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning. I just wanted to say good night to you.” 

“In a minute,” she whines. She’s trying to remember her credit card number without having to get up and dig it out of her purse.

Tyson must hear her keyboard clacking. “What are you still doing on your computer?”

“Online shopping,” Madison lies. Well, half-lies. She is spending plenty of money right now. She triple-checks that her flight is booked correctly and that she purchased the ticket for the game before she finally slams her laptop shut and tosses it aside. “There, I’m done,” she tells Tyson.

“Buy anything good?” Tyson asks through a yawn. 

“Hope so, we’ll see.”

On Friday, Madison rushes off the plane, rushes through baggage claim, and rushes through renting a car. She’s cutting it close on time, with less than half an hour until puck drop. She drives as carefully and quickly as she can on the unfamiliar roads to the arena, one eye on the clock the whole time. The streets and parking around Enterprise Center are a fucking nightmare, but when she finally parks and makes it to the front doors, there’s still lines of people milling about, waiting to get in, too.

Madison checks her watch. Puck dropped five minutes ago. She pushes around a group of people who are somehow already drunk and towards the front of a line. All hockey arenas are the same, in a way, but Madison is immediately overwhelmed and disoriented. The first period is half over by the time she manages to get to the upper level and settle in her seat, but at least she finally made it. 

Madison takes a photo of the ice and texts it to Tyson with her usual black heart emoji. He’ll see it eventually. 

Madison has to keep herself from cheering too loudly for every Wild goal, surrounded by Blues fans as she is, and she’s probably one of the only people in the arena who’s happy when the Wild manage a neat win. 

She follows the throngs of people outside and back to her rental car. She has a text from Tyson waiting for her, just a string of exclamation marks. Another text comes through while she’s waiting for traffic to thin out, a request for Madison to call Tyson in all capital letters. Tyson’s breathless when he answers Madison’s call. “What the hell are you doing in St. Louis?” 

“Surprise?” Madison says weakly. 

Tyson laughs. “Hell of a surprise, babe.” He must pull his phone away from his ear, because Madison can still hear him speaking, but distantly. “Hang on, I’m trying to get you the address of the hotel, you can meet me there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Madison says. Tyson’s gone again, not really listening.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go, I’ll text you where to go, and I’ll see you soon, okay?” He hangs up without letting Madison reply, but he texts again seconds later with the name and address of the team hotel. 

Madison is anxiously idling in the hotel driveway when the team bus pulls in behind her. Tyson bounds off the bus almost before it comes to a full stop, and he races over to Madison’s car door and taps on the window.

Madison rolls down the window. “And what if it hadn’t been me in the car?” she teases.

Tyson is reaching through the now-open window to try and unlock the door, his tongue sticking out the way it does when he’s focusing on the ice. “I would have apologized. A lot.” He successfully presses the unlock button and yanks the car door open. “Come here, come here,” he says.

Madison laughs and climbs out of the car. Both of her feet aren’t even out of the car before Tyson’s sweeping her up in a hug so tight she swears she can feel her ribs shift. He sets her down and immediately cups her face.

“You’re here, I can’t believe you’re here.” Tyson narrows his eyes, and he squishes Madison’s cheeks where he’s still holding her face. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming.” 

Madison pries Tyson’s hands away enough to talk. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tyson’s teammates are still filtering off the bus, and they should probably move inside, too. “Can you let go of me so I can get my bag out of the trunk?” she asks.

Tyson considers this. He slides one hand down Madison’s arm until he can tangle their fingers together. He also leans into the car and deftly turns it off, holding the keys up with a grin. He nudges the door shut. “We can get your bag out of the trunk.” He proceeds to drag Madison around to the back of the car and drags her suitcase out of the back with his free hand. He stares between the suitcase in his hand and the open trunk before Madison takes pity on him and slams the trunk shut.

Madison hangs back while Tyson hands the car keys off to a valet, and then he’s dragging her towards the elevators, happily rolling Madison’s suitcase in front of him. At least the rest of the Wild players have all disappeared, sparing Madison from their stares and jeers. She tucks herself closer to Tyson in the elevator, suddenly self-conscious. Tyson kisses her temple.

Madison is suddenly exhausted as soon as they enter Tyson’s room. Tyson flips the light on as Madison kicks off her shoes. Tyson left the curtains open earlier, and Madison can see the Arch, lit up above the river, through the window. She’s too tired to give it more than a half-hearted glance on her way to face-planting into the pillows. 

Tyson’s laughing when she rolls over and brushes her hair out of her face. “I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he says, jumping onto the bed next to Madison, and, really, that’s all that matters.

The Wild lose the next game at Enterprise, and Madison holds Tyson tightly for a long time in the hall outside the locker room before he has to get on a plane. They lose again at home, then yet again back in St. Louis. 

Just like that, hockey season is over. 

Tyson calls Madison after the last game. He sounds like he’s been crying, but he tries to be cheerful for Madison. She just wishes she could hug him, but she’s back in Denver. She knows the Avs swept the Predators already, and they’ll be facing St. Louis next. It’s not difficult to imagine how Tyson feels about that. 

“Come home with me,” Tyson blurts. He’s on the phone with Madison, getting ready to leave his Minnesota hotel room behind. He survived locker cleanout and exit interviews, and now he’s ready to sleep for about a week.

Madison, in the middle of complaining at work, freezes. “I—what?” She takes another moment to process. “Aren’t you coming back to Denver first?” Madison knows his apartment sits half-abandoned, filled with things too difficult or unnecessary to move after the trade. 

“Well, yeah, but like, after. You should come home with me,” Tyson repeats. He’s been dying to introduce her to his mom for months. He hopes his mom likes Madison as much as he does. He is a little worried about his sanity if Madison and Kacey get along as well as he thinks they will, though. 

“I’ve never been to Canada before,” Madison says thoughtfully. She’s barely travelled abroad at all, except for one trip to the UK after she graduated high school. Her passport has been collecting dust since then. 

“So you’ll come?” Tyson asks. 

“Is there even anything to do in Edmonton?” Madison teases.

“There’s so much to do, like—” Tyson pauses. It’s been a while since he’s had to play tourist back home. Madison is giggling on the other end of the line. “Shut up, we’ll figure something out.”

Tyson feels like he can breathe properly for the first time in months when he steps out of the airport in Denver. He wonders if any place will ever feel like home the way Denver does.

Tyson had managed to wheedle JT into picking him up, and he even brought coffee. Tyson ignores the way it almost feels like an apology. JT has nothing to be apologizing for, but Tyson just sips his coffee. 

The apartment smells stale when they walk in. Tyson’s mom had done a good job of cleaning for him, at least, and there aren’t any dirty dishes still stacked in the sink. He and JT are quiet as they walk through the apartment, opening windows. Tyson feels like he’s walking through someone else’s life. He stares for too long at his bed, freshly made and untouched for weeks. 

He shakes it off and goes to find the moving boxes.

“So, this is it, huh?” JT says.

He could be talking about all the boxes they’ve spent the last few hours filling boxes and separating them into piles to be shipped off to Minnesota—Tyson finally signed a lease for an apartment there—or to be sent back home for his family to deal with. An alarming amount of Tyson’s clothes is Avalanche-branded gear, and more of it got packed away to keep than Tyson is willing to admit. 

He could also be talking about the end of everything they’ve known together in Denver. Tyson’s spent years accepting the fact that hockey is a business before everything else, has gotten used to the revolving door of teammates each season. It’s been a long time since Rookie House days with Kerf. Tyson is going to walk out that apartment door, and he’s never going to be able to go back. A chapter—or book, really—in the story of his life ended for good. 

Tyson sighs. “This is it.”

The apartment is stripped bare when Madison steps through the door, left unlocked by JT and Tyson.

She drops her laptop bag and kicks off her shoes, saying, “You should be more careful, anybody could just walk in here.”

Tyson drops the box he’s holding and whirls around. Madison winces as its contents rattle. There’s no time to say anything else before Tyson is bounding across the room and wrapping her in a huge hug. 

“What, no hug for me?” JT asks from somewhere behind them. Tyson turns to glare at him, but Madison shoots him a smile.

“Hey, JT,” she says. She lets JT drape an arm around her in a half-hug.

“Betrayal,” Tyson says. He is ignored. 

They leave most of the boxes for the moving company to deal with. Madison bundles Tyson into her car with his bags of clothes, complaining the whole time about wanting dinner. She lets Tyson hold her hand across the console as she drives him to her apartment. 

It’s not the first time Tyson’s been to Madison’s apartment, but it still feels strange to be there instead of his own. They’ve spent so much time there the past few months, watching movies on the couch, doing things other than sleeping in the bed. He misses it already, all the memories they made as they fumbled their way into a relationship. 

He says as much to Madison, expecting her to tease him for something so objectively dumb—to miss an apartment he lived in half of the time for like six months—but the look she gives him is almost sad.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” she says. Tyson pulls her in by the hips, letting her lean her weight on him. “But I guess we’ll just have to keep making more memories, yeah?” 

Later that night, tangled up in Madison’s sheets, Tyson stares at the dark ceiling. He can feel Madison, looking rumpled and in his shirt, watching him. She nudges his calf with her toes. He doesn’t look at her, focused on keeping his eyes from welling up. Then Madison’s hand is on his cheek, turning his head towards her.

“How you doin’, bud?” 

Tyson lets Madison pull him close and hold him tightly. He slides a hand under her shirt and to the bare skin of her hip, just feeling the comforting warmth of her skin. 

“What if it’s never like this again?” Tyson whispers back. This—Denver and the Avalanche, friends who become family; Madison in bed next to him, loving him and wearing his clothes. Minnesota had been okay, but Tyson worked his ass off and never felt settled. Maybe it was the endless hotel life, maybe it was the team, maybe it was him. He feels like a child, begging his mom to tell him everything was going to be okay. 

Madison doesn’t know how to comfort Tyson. It probably never will be like this again. Madison can’t see the future, and she can’t promise Tyson anything, either. “I don’t know, baby,” Madison admits. “I don’t know.” 

Tyson doesn’t cry, but they both lay awake for a long time. 

June

They fly into Edmonton together on Friday. Tyson seems nervous the whole flight and all the way through the airport. At baggage claim, as they wait for their suitcases, Madison turns on him.

“What’s up with you?” she asks. Tyson blinks at her like he forgot she was there. “You’re not seriously this worried about me meeting your family, are you?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know!” Tyson crosses his arms. He’s pretty sure his suitcase just spun past them on the carousel. He lowers his voice. “I don’t really bring girls home, I don’t know. I don’t know how this is supposed to go.”

“Oh, Tys. It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Madison tosses her hair, and Tyson manages a weak smile. “Your family is going to love me so much they’ll forget you even exist.”

“Hey!”

Tyson had lobbied hard for taking an Uber from the airport, to give Madison and himself a few last moments of peace before a week with his family, but his mom had put her foot down and insisted on picking them up. She’s already idling at the curb when they step out of the airport.

Madison calls shotgun, leaving Tyson to throw their suitcases in the trunk and slide into the backseat. His mom is in the middle of telling Madison, “Call me Laura, please!” Madison turns in her seat to grin at Tyson as his mom pulls away and starts driving out of the airport. She refrains from grilling Madison on the short drive home, something Tyson is grateful for. He zones out while Madison explains where she grew up and what she does and lets himself relax back into his seat.

Before he knows it, they’re pulling up to the house, and Kacey is sprinting out the front door to greet them. Tyson groans, but he eagerly shoves his car door open before the car is in park and lets Kacey jump on him. 

Madison gets out of the car at a more leisurely—and sane—pace, and Kacey turns to wrap her in a hug as soon as she lets go of Tyson.

“I’m Kacey,” she says, pulling away and gripping Madison by the shoulders. “The better Jost sibling.”

Tyson pulls on Kacey’s ponytail. She smacks him in the chest without turning around. Tyson’s about to lunge and get Kacey in a headlock when their mom yells, “Behave,” at them from the front door.

Madison’s looking faintly overwhelmed. Tyson mouths “You okay?” at her over Kacey’s shoulder. Madison just grins and lets Kacey grab her by the hand and drag her inside. He’s pretty sure he hears Kacey telling her how much their grandparents can’t wait to meet her as they go. He shakes his head and retrieves their luggage from the trunk.

He’s missed all the introductions by the time he makes it inside. Madison sits on the couch next to Kacey, the spot on Madison’s other side left conspicuously open. Tyson ignores Kacey’s smirk and plops himself down next to Madison. 

“So, how did you two meet?” Tyson’s grandpa asks.

Tyson refrains from glaring at him. Madison laughs next to him.

“He picked me up in a bar, and I had no idea he was a hockey player,” she says. Tyson had almost forgotten about that part. “We kinda just…kept seeing each other after that.” 

That’s a delicate way of putting it.

“So you’re the reason Tyson ditched us over Christmas, huh?” Kacey asks next. She’s smirking again, directed straight at Tyson over Madison’s head. Tyson has not forgotten that part, struggling to lie to Kacey and his mom.

“Kacey!” Tyson and his mom both protest, but Madison just laughs again. Something about the question melts all of the tension out of her shoulders. She turns a little to lean against Tyson.

“Yeah, that was me,” Madison says. Tyson can’t see her face, but she doesn’t sound very sheepish. She tilts her chin to look up at Tyson. “I should’ve known something was up when he couldn’t go more than a few days without seeing me.” “Hey,” Tyson protests again, weakly. She’s right, though. They really should have figured out their shit sooner, but they got to the right place eventually. 

Conversation drifts away from the topic of their relationship after that. Tyson drapes an arm across Madison’s shoulders. After a while of catching up—Tyson and hockey season, or Kacey and her school year—mixed in with his family asking Madison questions to get to know her better, Tyson’s mom and grandma head to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

Madison tries to follow and offer to help, but Tyson tightens his arm around her. He kisses her forehead, whispering, “Stay here,” into her hair. Madison stays.

They’re getting ready for bed later—banished to separate rooms, of course—when Madison notices Tyson getting nervous again.

“What’s up?” Madison asks, sliding between him and the bathroom sink. They’re pushing it, probably, spending this long in the bathroom with the door closed. 

Tyson shrugs. “Worried about you and Kacey spending all night gossiping.” They’d really hit it off over dinner, which Tyson is simultaneously grateful for and horrified by. From the look Madison gives him, she’s not buying it. “It’s just…the Avs are in town tomorrow night, and I got tickets, and you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, but I want to go, and—”

Madison cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. “Tyson, I’d love to go to the game with you.”

Tyson relaxes again, and Madison moves her hand. Tyson takes the opportunity to bully her up against the sink and kiss her. Tyson’s just getting into it when Kacey bangs on the bathroom door. He’s pretty sure he accidentally bites Madison’s lip when he jerks away. Madison grumbles at him, but she ducks around him to open the door. Tyson tries not to whine about it.

Going to the game together the next night is strange. Tyson hasn’t been to Rogers Place and not been playing a game since he was a kid, probably. Madison had never really been to a hockey game before she’d met Tyson, and she’s definitely never gone to a game with Tyson. 

They mostly go unnoticed, except for a handful of people who stop Tyson and ask for a picture. Madison hangs back while he politely smiles at the camera. It’s easy to fade into the crush of the crowd, and Tyson keeps a tight hold and Madison’s hand as they make their way through the concourse and to their seats.

After that, it’s just like any other hockey game. Cheering for the Avalanche is familiar, even if the way Tyson is squeezing Madison’s hand at every single scoring chance is not. She’d tease him for his nervousness, especially because the Avalanche are winning easily, except for the fact that she knows it had to be hard for him to come out tonight. To cheer for his old team, his friends, knowing that with every win they’re one step closer to something he can’t be a part of. 

So she lets him hold her hand as tightly as he wants. It’s the best she can offer. 

They don’t linger after the game. Tyson seems eager to escape the arena, and Madison lets him lead her back to the car. He puts on a Spotify playlist and turns the volume up loud, but he’s mostly quiet on the drive to the house, one hand on the wheel, one hand on Madison’s thigh.

Madison gets caught up talking to Laura when they get to the house, and she loses track of Tyson for a while. He’s not upstairs in his old bedroom, or even bugging Kacey in her bedroom. Madison ventures outside. Tyson has dragged a lawn chair out to the driveway, but he’s laying on his back on the cold concrete, staring up at the dim stars. The moon is just a sliver in the sky. 

Madison nudges him with her foot. He wraps a hand around her ankle, squeezes once.

“You alive down there?”

Tyson makes a sound that almost passes for a laugh. Madison is pretty sure his eyes are wet, shiny in the dark. Madison lays down next to him. The concrete is hard against her shoulder blades, and it feels damp through her thin T-shirt. 

“This fucking sucks,” Tyson says. It’s too loud for how late it is, and his voice echoes a little around the quiet street. He rubs a hand angrily across his face. “I want to be out there, playing for the Cup, not fucking sitting in the arena watching them. I guess I should be happy for them because they’re my friends, you know? But I kinda want to hate them, too.” He’s quiet for a moment. He reaches for Madison’s hand, brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to her palm, before settling their clasped hands on his chest. “I might not have asked for a trade if I had known it would be this shitty,” he admits.

“It’s okay to be mad, Tyson,” Madison says gently.

“It’s not—I don’t know if I’m mad. I wish I could be.”

“It’s okay to be sad, too,” she says.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, voice thick. 

They’re both quiet for so long, Madison’s half-certain Tyson’s fallen asleep, if not for his occasional sniffle. He sits up after a while, still holding Madison’s hand. Even in the dark, Madison can see him yawn.

“Ready for bed?” Madison asks.

Tyson nods. “D’you think I can sneak you into my bed?”

He pulls Madison to her feet as she lets out a startled laugh. Tyson kisses her quiet. “I’m willing to get in trouble if you are.”

The house is dark when they slip back inside. They giggle their way through brushing their teeth, close together at the bathroom sink, elbows bumping. Tyson shushes her loudly as they tiptoe carefully down the hall. Madison’s pretty sure he’s being louder than her, but whatever.

Madison wakes to an empty bed and late morning sunlight. She can hear Tyson’s voice drifting up the stairs. That boy truly does not know how to be quiet. Madison has an Instagram notification when she swipes her phone off the bedside table: josty17 has tagged you in a post. Madison frowns and unlocks her phone, wondering what unflattering photo of her Tyson took. Instead, it’s a photo Kacey or Laura must have taken the morning before. Madison’s laying on top of Tyson on the couch, Tyson visibly complaining that he’s being squished, despite the fact that he had pulled Madison on top of him. He captioned it with a black heart emoji. 

Madison makes her way downstairs. Tyson sits at the kitchen table, arguing with Kacey over something stupid. He reaches a hand out for Madison without stopping whatever he’s ranting about. There’s a fresh mug of coffee in his hand, already doctored the way Madison likes it. Tyson uses his now-free hand to loop around Madison’s waist and tug her onto his lap. She hooks her arms around Tyson’s neck and sips her coffee, content to listen to this argument, even though she’s still not sure what they’re arguing about. She thinks she hears something about which fruit would make the best weapon. 

It might not be easy, but Madison thinks they’ll be just fine.

#cait writes things #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche fic #minnesota wild fic #buffalo sabres fic #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #tyson jost fanfiction

[queenlucythevaliant]

Want to rant about this post, because it makes me seethe every time I come across it. Nothing against anyone who's reblogged it, just want to give my two cents.

A migraine is NOT the same as a bad headache! Migraine a specific neurological condition which is frequently (though not always) characterized by headache, as well as numerous other symptoms. They're caused by some combination of nerve inflammation and uneven vasoconstriction/dialation in the brain. As such, there's no such thing as a "sinus migraine" or a "tension migraine."

Acupressure and massage *may* help to relieve some measure of migraine pain if you can stand being touched long enough, but it won't help the underlying neurological condition, which is more similar to a slow-motion seizure than any other type of headache. I'm sure pressure helps with tension headaches and maybe other types of headaches, as described, but those are not migraines! Words have meanings, gang.

However, in calling these non-migraine headaches "migraines" and then suggesting that they are easy to treat in this manner, the post suggests that migraines are a much lighter matter than they actually are. This, and discussions like this, cause real migraine to be taken less seriously by the culture at large.

Fundamentally, the thing about the original post that irritates me so much is that basically none of the people on it seem to have any idea what migraine actually is. There's been a move in recent years to try to make people more aware that medical language is very specific and shouldn't be abused (ie OCD isn't just "having a messy room bothers me," it's a specific disorder that, if untreated, can massively harm people's lives), which I think is great. At the same time, there's a growing tendency to pathologize everything, from personality tics to low-grade headaches, often in the strongest terms possible. While I'm not for the policing of language in general, I do feel that it's at best insensitive and at worst actively harmful to use specific medical terms in situations where they simply don't apply.

Most headaches are not migraines. Speaking as though they are leads to a misinformed attitude around migraine which suggests that everybody gets them, they're easy to treat, and they're not that bad actually. This attitude has caused me material difficulty so many times over the last nine years that I couldn't even being to tally it.

#i am so sick to death of seeing that post #chronic illness is hilarious #so far it's been a hard nerve block day folks #WOULD THAT I could just press on the back of my neck instead of getting SKEWERED IN THE HEAD WITH NEEDLES #🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂 #'tension migraines' gimme a break #pontifications and creations

[influenzalake]

'I love...' Damian Wayne x Reader (Reader Centric)

Reader is so tired of what people say about their babe, so they give their two cents 

femelle reader/ she her used, about 800 words, enjoy lovelies 

You're being "interviewed" by The Gotham Gazette. 

(They caught you by surprise out in public and your ride was a few, darn steps out of reach)

 Everybody wants the inside scoop of how you fell in love with Gotham's new young prince. There are many questions and rumors as to how Damian managed to get such a sweet thing as you. They flood your senses and any escape routes are blocked off. 

"Were you paid?" 

Cameras flash directly into your eyes.

"Were you forced?"

Microphones are shoved in your face.

     "Were you paid then forced? Blink now if you need help!"

The rumors turned into accusations and it was getting out of hand. It was very hurtful to Damian to see how the media thought of him and his family. Contrary to how the public may think, he does indeed have feelings. He would never think of all the horrible crimes that sprawl across newspapers, article titles, and televisions. He fights people who actually commit them every night! It all gets to his head and he pushes people away. In these moments he rarely makes eye contact with his beloved, thinking she is here not for his love but because she feels like she has no other options. It hurts him deeply. 

You thought it was finally time to set the record straight.

Damian sits down in front of the TV and, against his better judgement, he tuned in to the latest shows to see what people were saying about him. He knows it's probably not good for his health, but he can't help himself. It's just going to be more talk show nonsense to fill runtime anyway.

That is, until he sees her.

his... beloved?

Talking about their relationship!

His heart begins pounding like a drum in his ears. He can barely believe it. He thought he was doing a good job. He thought he was treating her well, giving her everything a woman could ask for. It stung and then it sank that she would go to the MEDIA about their personal lives. He was already sifting through the dark assumptions about what this report would entail...

Reporter 1: "So Ms. Wayne- Can I call you Ms. Wayne? Is it official yet? Anything you want to share with us?"

Y/N: "Not yet! Sorry to keep anyone in the deep end but you'll have to wait for an official announcement for that."

Reporter 1: "SHARP! I like you! Okay moving on, so- I'm sure you're already aware of the *ahem* opinions regarding your relationship. Do you mind telling us about that?"

Y/N: "Yes of course. I cannot speak on behalf of my partner, but it is very cruel what people are saying about him. I understand that not everybody gets to spend time with him the way I do, but I think the world would be a better place if we could all be more kind to each other-"

Reporter 1: "Great, great, but what do you actually SEE in him? Multiple reports have all correlated to him having a very   for lack of a better term   -strong- personality. Can you please, for the audience of course, tell us what attracted you to Damian?"

You dig deep into your history with Damian and let it flow naturally. You speak from the heart and let your true emotions shine. Any fault and the media would go notice and into a frenzy and you're here to clear up the misconceptions, not make them.

Some silence, then a deep breath. Your face rises the same way he is used to seeing every time he comes home. 

For a moment, seeing your face like that, his anxiety is *almost* gone. 

Y/N: "He impresses me everyday. I see the man who loves me, his family, and Gotham more than any other. He amazes me with his intellect and skill. He carries Wayne Industries into better and better times. He holds conferences for the improvement of his city. He educates and works for the community. Then he comes back from that to come to me, and I see a man. A man with his entire heart poured out. I love speaking to this man. He, of course, always says exactly what he thinks. I never had to worry about whether he truly loved me or not! How many men can you say that about these days? Some may think it's harsh, but I wouldn't want him any other way."

You dig a little bit deeper.

 "But most of all, he is not afraid of improvement. Damian, in my eyes, is a selfless man who works hard to be the best he can be. There is no other person I would rather have by my side."

And while every reporter, cameraman, and poor intern that was dragged into this is busy finding their jaws on the ground.    You make your escape. 

#batman #damian wayne #x reader #fanfiction

[itzyourlocalsimp]

Here, have shit-tonnes of incorrect quotes + Green Cousins content:

Morro, negotiating with the Ninja: We have Lloyd. Give us ten thousand dollars and he will be returned to you unharmed.

Lloyd: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars?

Morro:

Lloyd: MAKE IT ONE MILLION–

Morro: LLOYD STOP.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Morro: I really like this whole ‘good guy, bad guy’ thing you guys have going on.

Harumi: It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and Lloyd isn’t.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Lloyd: You have to apologize to Harumi.

Morro: Fine.

Morro: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Morro: If Harumi and I were drowning, who would you save?

Lloyd: You two can’t swim?

Harumi: It’s a hypothetical question, Lloyd! who would you save?

Lloyd: my time and effort.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Morro: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Harumi: I'm a knife.

Lloyd, from across the room: She's the little spoon.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Morro: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited.

Harumi: If?

Lloyd: Great, the only party I’ve ever been invited to and he might not even die.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Morro: Please bring home PURIFIED water with NO minerals added for taste.

Harumi: We got spring water.

Morro: NO.

Lloyd: with EXTRA minerals.

Harumi: it's like licking a stalagmite.

Morro: DON'T COME HOME.

Lloyd: Mmmmm cave water.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

*Morro and Lloyd getting into trouble*

Morro: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Harumi: Wasn't Lloyd with you?

Lloyd: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Harumi: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life.

Morro: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Harumi: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Lloyd: Edible.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Morro: Hey Harumi,

Harumi: Yes?

Morro: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Harumi:

Harumi: Where’s Lloyd?

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Morro: We need a distraction.

Harumi: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Lloyd, whispering: My time has come.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Morro: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Harumi: You’re a hazard to society.

Lloyd: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Morro: Harumi, keep an eye on Lloyd today. He’s going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Harumi: Sure, I’d love to see Lloyd get punched.

Morro: Try again.

Harumi, sighing: I will stop Lloyd from getting punched.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Wu: While I’m gone, Jay, you’re in charge.

Jay: Yes!!!

Wu, whispering: Lloyd, you’re secretly in charge.

Lloyd: Obviously.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Nya: What do you think Lloyd and Kai will do for a distraction?

Cole: They’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.

*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*

Cole: ... or they could do that.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Jay: Why are you on the floor?

Lloyd: I'm depressed.

Lloyd: Also I was stabbed, can you get Kai, please.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Lloyd: Are you sure this is the right direction?

Jay: Certainly, I'm as sure as I am honest!

Kai: In that case, we're definitely lost.

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Show host *setting an example for kids on how to treat their mothers*: If you had to choose between your mother and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose?

Lloyd: That depends, how much money are we taking about?

Show host: 63 cents.

Lloyd: I'll take the money.

Misako: LLOYD!!!

ʚ❐✰❐✰❐✰❐✰❐ɞ

Lloyd: WHY. why did you give Morro a KNIFE?!

Harumi: I’m sorry. He said he felt unsafe.

Lloyd: Now I feel unsafe!

Harumi: I’m sorry.

Harumi: ... would you like a knife?

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #harumi ninjago #harumi jade #morro ninjago #morro wu #green cousins #fluff #+ juicy ninja #incorrect quotes #kai smith #kai jiang #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #cole brookstone #wu ninjago #sensei wu #master wu #jay walker #jay ninjago #lloyd ninjago #nya smith #nya jiang #nya ninjago #🅓🅐🅜🅝- #lolz #byee

[starsomens]

Sometimes I feel like I live under a rock because it's always something new...

Not to break anyone's heart (including my own) BUT WHO CARES WHO NOAH IS DATING...if it's Poppy or if literally the late Queen of England... (didn't know who else to mentioned lmao) ultimately it his life and not one fan will make him change it just because the Fandom is mad...

The BO Fandom is literally insane!!! (not all of them though, I love us delulu folks who still have our feet on the ground) and I don't say this lightly; I've been so on edge about making any comments about BO through my public socials because I know I will probably come across a toxic fan, not that I would be saying anything bad but you never know.

Anyway sorry for the rant had to give my two cents in because it's all I being seeing about on feed today.

-✨Anon

I can not agree more !

If Noah is dating someone my first thought will be

Who? Lemme see a pic of them? How are they? I just want Noah, Jolly and both Nicks to be happy even if that means they are alone for the next 10 years or getting married in a couple of months.

Like I said if you're upset a BAND MEMBER/ CELEBRITY is dating.....please be realistic

but thank you for putting in your share booboo

#bad omens #noah sebastian #star’s anons✨ #✨ anon

[pieroulette]

| ROUTE 1: HEESEUNG |

a story that starts with a text

summary: when you installed a dating app just to mess with random people, not knowing that you were turning your life into a bloody mess the moment you sent that text.

genre: yandere, angst, college! au

warning: lots of cursing, angsty scenes.

pairing: heeseung x fem! reader

word count: 12.1k

a/n: the story is too long so I decided it into two parts again so this is part 1, and part 2 prob would be posted around this week so yea! Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Sorry for any grammar errors too! Lmk what u think ^^

| EPISODE 9 : TRAITOR |

Feet slowly walking off to the mirror leaning against the wall, the reflection of the tall black-haired boy with tear-stained face and red blush kissing the apples of his cheeks. Seeing his reflection on the mirror, a choke grows in his throat and he sobs uncontrollably at the way he looks.

"Chaewon, I'm so s-sorry.."

Just then, his lips tugged upwards with his teeth coming into view and his face contorts into an utter amusement, a suppressed giggle filled the air as he looked back to the mirror, staring at his tear-stained eyes and face. Wiping off the tears from his eyes with his index finger, tilting his head in the process, he let out a sigh of content but trying his best to stay silent as to not to alarm the young girl on the other side of the room — you.

Dozens of thoughts ran through his mind, as he sat comfortably on the comfort of his bed. The sunrays peeking through the blinds and onto the curvature of his face, turning him to an angelic piece of painting — just with bloody hand prints on it. His chest rise and fell as he thought of what to do next, what to plan and how to successfully work on it.

“. .What shall I do next?” he murmurs, eyes lazily gazing towards the ceiling decorated with tiny stickers of stars from his childhood. The ever so innocence that the little him used to stick it against the wall while he was on his father's shoulders, too bad it's was now tainted with nothing but red.

Dirty red.

—

Your head comfortably laid against the couch, mirroring the boy’s action from the other side of the room across the hall. You almost want to laugh at how the boy tried so hard to conceal his actions from you, and almost disappointed in yourself that parts of you still tried to defend him along those days, like when you visited him in the hospital, like when you felt the hint of jealousy when the sight of him with your sister were presented in front of you.

Almost disappointed in yourself that you still wanted to deny and prove to EJ that he was really innocent.

. . .flashbacks. . .

Chaeryeong excused herself after giving her two cents. The sadness on your face never faltering as you gave a deep thought to her advice. Apologize to the person you felt most guilty to?

Making up your mind, you turned on your phone with the long passage of text still displayed on the screen, in EJ's chat. If anyone, EJ has always been that person that has never give you doubts.

you: I’m sorry, EJ—

The rest of the paragraph left unseen as you turn off your phone, sighing as you look up to the dark ceiling and then back on the floor which was illuminated by the bright moonlight peeking from your window.

It was silence for awhile.

And just then a ting echoes in the air and you knew it was from your phone. You opened it and there EJ’s reply appeared on your lock screen.

EJ: I’m sorry too. I overreacted..

His text immediately brings a smile to your face, heart beating fast in happiness, happy that he was willing to forgive you. You observed as he keeps typing, and erasing. You sensed that he too was having a hard time to think of what to say.

It was awkward to say the least, even after all that had happened but the effort that follows through that, was what making this friendship walked farther.

EJ: Still wanna be friends?

You chuckled, wiping the tears off from your eyes. Sniffing as you typed your next reply.

you: of course, why not?

The night then goes on with you two chatting with each other, just simply about normal and simple stuff. Which enlightened your heart and mood, it felt like you didn’t have any problem at all, it felt like nothing bad had happened at all.

After a plenty of hours of chatting, you finally asked him,

you: so why didn't you tell me that unnie actually rejected you?

Silence, and then finally EJ pulls it up with a new text,

EJ: I'm sorry.

EJ is typing . . .

You notice his hesitance as he keep erasing what he was typing for a good minute.

EJ: I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that in the first place.. it's all because I was afraid that you would change your mind if I told u the truth.

you: you could've at least tried to?

EJ: I know. But it wasn't only because of that.. Can you please promise to still believe in me after I say this?

you: what do you mean

EJ: just please..

you: alright tell me

EJ: I am part of the group Heeseung was in.. the group where the deal was made.

Your eyes widened instantly as soon as the text was represented before your very eyes, your fingers hastily type a reply, sending it.

you: tf u saying?? are you telling me you're their friends??

EJ: yes. but pls trust me!

EJ: I thought you would never believe me if I say so , if I did then you'd think that I was doing it to fool you but I promise I'm not doing this because of that.

You didn't type out a reply, only reading the texts he sent to you. He belong to a group where Heeseung was in, that would mean he was Heeseung's friend. The friends who created their little game to ruin your sister, he was their friend.

EJ hissed, sensing your sudden change of demeanor, it was driving him to the edge as he couldn't lose your trust. He couldn't, he needed you to trust him because you were the only one who he could trust either.

EJ is typing. . .

EJ: It's not because Chaewon rejected me that I join that group.

EJ: I'm really sorry that I never told u Chaewon rejected me but pls believe me (Name).

EJ: I'll tell you everything I know about them. Everything so pls just trust me one more time?

Taking a deep sigh as you took a moment to take in the truth that had unraveled before you, you gulped as you type out a new reply.

you: tell me and this time don't keep anything from me.

EJ: thank you thank you (Name)

For every text EJ sent to you, you couldn't stop your face from contorting into disgust and yet it wasn't until he properly explained what they were planning to really do with your sister that you ran to the toilet and puke so hard as you were unable to fathom the monstrosity of these people, especially him.

Lee Heeseung. Was it really all true?

you: they're so fucking disgusting and that bastard I can't believe him?? what was he thinking?!

EJ: I already told you.

EJ: he is not what you think he is

EJ: and let’s try not to meet for awhile.

you: why not? Is there something?

EJ: I’ll have to tell you this, it’s really dumb that I just noticed it now but .. remember the car accident where I and Heeseung got into?

you: yea why?

ej022: i suspect.. That someone was helping Heeseung. It sucks that I only noticed it now but now I think about it. It fucking makes sense.

you: help him? what do u mean?

EJ: Heeseung wasn't alone in all his shitty plans. back on that day, whoever hit us was helping him. That someone hits Heeseung and me so that i would get the blame. Either i die or live, it’s still works in their favour.

you: how can you be so sure

EJ: I'm fucking sure of it. Someone was definitely watching over us. How the fuck could he have known that you will get out of the hospital that day?

you: it can be just a coincidence ?

He took a moment to reply back as the atmosphere grew serious and tense upon the topic of Heeseung.

EJ: I don't think so.

EJ: the way he talked to me that day..

EJ: someone was definitely helping him.

EJ: we have to pretend that we don't know each other.

This time it was you who had a hard time to take in what EJ said, and he seems to also notice that by your lack of response.

EJ: I know you like him but you really have to keep in mind that he's not who you think he is.

EJ: you're smart.

EJ: don't let him fool you.

you: I know.

Sighing through your nose, you type another reply but a random noise caught your attention, making you jolt in surprise.

you: hold up I sense someone

You covered your phone, bringing it closer to your chest as you snapped your head to the direction where the sound came from, the window. Standing up, you pulled the curtain a bit to look at the empty dark street where only the street lamp illuminating it with yellowish glow.

“Weird..” you frown as you look around more when a text from EJ pops up in your phone's lock screen.

EJ: stop.

EJ: ignore it. try not to look too obvious, (name).

you: so what we gonna do now?

—

Walking across the hallway of the hospital, you had decided to believe in EJ. All of it while taking in the comfort of Heeseung’s chest as you sighed in relief, his sweet scent hitting your nose while he gently stroked your hair. Your eyes blinking per second as your mind goes through dozens of thoughts — of what to do now. Words from EJ hit your mind:

EJ: pretend like nothing happened, like we never talk at all.

EJ: and you know what I just said about them right? we have to get him in our side.

you: but why should we ask help from one of them?? what if all of them was helping him?

you: you're taking too much risks here, EJ

EJ: I know but it's only him... he's the only one I believe would never do such thing.

you: but.. we can't trust him EJ

you: just how can you be so sure?

EJ: because it's him.

EJ: we really have to try. he's really the only one we could trust rn

EJ: we'll have to fool Heeseung. you're the only one who could get in through the studio and ask him to come.

EJ: there's no way I could come back to that group just in case Heeseung had already told them about me

you: why don't u just text him, why go through all that trouble

EJ: there's a chance that he might tell Heeseung so we can't risk it. If Heeseung founds out then we're done.

EJ: so please. just put your trust in me especially him.

EJ: we'll have to get that tape

EJ: he's the only one who could bring us to that tape.

You and EJ had agreed to stop seeing each other for awhile to avoid any suspicion while fooling Heeseung, just so he won’t send a particular ‘someone’ to spy on you like EJ had suspected. The plan was to meet Heeseung's group and get the tape.

All while being cautious since you both knew one of them was helping Heeseung, and in fact, it wasn't confirmed yet if there are more of them.

Yet, you couldn't believe that EJ chose to believe in one of them, especially him?

Shaking your head in disbelief, you tightened the straps of your bag as you walked across the hallway, to visit Heeseung as part of the plan.

There was really no choice but to take risks, just like EJ said.

Taking a deep breathe, you pushed open the door to Heeseung's room where you continued to pretend apologetic and guilty, a part where you have a hard time to continue doing due to the fact that you still actually believe Heeseung, a tiny part of you where you still want to prove that he's innocent

You watched as Heeseung go about his day being all boring in the hospital without you, and so on. His eyelashes fluttering as he blinks, his red lips pouting and the light blush kissing his cheeks. How could such an angel can be capable of doing an unimaginable thing towards you?

You are being hypocrite, you know. This stupid feelings are one holding you back from fully believing in EJ but it's not like you don't believe what he said — it's just maybe, just maybe, Heeseung probably had a reason.

Reason? Are you being dumb?

What kind of reason could he have to fool you and your sister like this? That disgusting deal, playing with your sister's genuine feelings, and you — what could've been the reason?

Heeseung waved his hand in front of you, concerned by your lack of response in which you immediately brush it off. It was inevitable, this battle of logic and emotions kept spiraling inside you.

And that's why the only thing that could made you believe in EJ, that Heeseung planned all of that, was the tape.

You have to get the tape.

Harbouring these thoughts inside you still somehow made you feel guilty towards EJ as well, it's a never-ending guilt to either one of them, actually.

"Hey, did you hear about the male nurse going missing? It's been a whole month since his disappearance."

You halted your steps, the soft murmurs of the nurses beside the counter you just passed by.

"You mean that new boy?"

"I guess that rumor is true though, the ghost one? He'd definitely got haunted!"

"Tch, don't spread such rumors like that."

"But you can't tell me you don't think it that way either, okay then if it's not about ghosts. Then how could he have gone missing just after his shift that day?"

"I know right? It's his first day, even!"

"He probably got scared of the crazy girl. Remember, Room 718? Rumors say anyone who visited her room often has bad luck sticking on their back."

"Oh my god, I remember! She also went missing, didn't she?!"

"Tone it down, will you?" the other nurse muttered an apology as she rubbed her head in an abashed manner. After that, another nurse hurried to their direction in which they instantly took their leave.

It can't be that they are they talking about. . . you? Room 718 was your room. So the male nurse they could be talking about was?. . .

“Miss?”

“You have to take your meds.”

“You’re just so pretty, I'm sorry if that sounds weird.”

“Um.. Where’s the nurse from yesterday?”

“Oh, he had taken a leave for the day. And so I was here to fill in the empty spot.”

Right? That nurse! You remembered that he got replaced by the old lady who EJ had mentioned about, the one he saw with Heeseung.

That old lady and that male nurse.

What was their name tag again? Think. Think. You have to remember it, think (Name)!

Looking around in frantic manner as you tried your best to remember their name, there it flashes through your mind.

Nurse. Ryu and the male nurse is Nurse. Jeon

Now that you thought of it, the old nurse was nowhere to be seen even though you had spent enough time visiting Heeseung. The male nurse either, what were they saying? He went missing? But how? Something was odd with how things seem to be connected and you can't let yourself to shrug it off and so you went to the counter, pulling your face mask and putting it on as you tapped the counter — taking the nurse's attention.

"Yes? Is there anything I could help?"

"Hey, I wonder if Nurse. Jeon and Nurse. Ryu. . is still here?" the nurse tilted her head at your question and you instantly had an afterthought that she might be wondering why you, a complete stranger, looking for two nurses at the same time. "A-ah, I mean the patient in Room 718, Kim (Name). I'm her sister. I really wanna thank them for looking after my sister so I wonder if they're still here? it's important actually. Can you help me with it?"

The nurse hesitates for a moment, almost making your breath hitched as you wait for her response.

"Nurse. Jeon has been going missing since a month ago, we've been trying to reach him but he wasn't taking any of our calls—"

So he did go missing.

"And Nurse. Ryu, as far as I know, there's no nurse with the surname Ryu in this hospital."

"W-what?" you raised your eyebrow, mouth gaped at what you heard. "Room 718. Didn't Nurse. Jeon for replaced by Nurse. Ryu to give my sister her meds?"

The nurse's face contorts into utter confusion as she then pulled out a stack of papers and flipped through the pages which took quite awhile, "Kim (Name), age 17, admitted to Room 718 for claustrophobic tendencies and drug usage, right?"

You nodded, a bit hasty than you intended.

"I fear you might have mistaken, there are only two nurses assigned to Room 718. Nurse. Jeon for the morning shift and Nurse. Jang for the night shift. I don't see the surname Ryu here."

"In fact, there are no registered nurse under the surname Ryu in this hospital."

What?. . . The nurse doesn't exist? It can't be.

—

EJ: So you're telling me that guy had gone missing and the nurse that should have replaced him wasn't registered as the nurse there?"

EJ: the same nurse I saw with Heeseung that day?"

you: yeah , I heard it from the nurses and it was only now I found out about it

EJ: Fuck, I knew it. I told you! That bastard has been planning something and he even hired a fake nurse against you?

EJ: but why does it seem like he was targeting you? this doesn't make any sense.

EJ is typing. . .

EJ: does he really have to go through all of that?

Right? There's no other particular reason he could've put so much effort, it just really don't make any sense. Unless if he— no it can't be? How could he even?

. . .It can't be?

Your hesitance quickly made EJ caught on up to something.

EJ: is there perhaps something you didn't tell me?

EJ: (Name)?

Shame engulfed your entire being when you read the text displayed in your phone's screen, you frowned deeply, pressing your lips tight as you contemplated of what to say.

And by your lack of response, EJ already knew it. Your breath hitched as you saw him typing something, it seems like he, too, was trying to find the right words to say.

EJ is typing. . .

EJ: take ur time.

EJ: whatever it is, I promise I won't judge you.

Curling your finger around your phone, you weren't entirely sure if you are brave enough to say it. If you did say it, what would EJ think of you? Would his view on you change after you confessed?

you are typing. . .

you: i ..it was just for fun.

You told him everything and yet what surprises you the most was how he chose to be understanding than shaming you for what you did.

EJ: are you sure he really don’t know about it?

you: unnie would never tell him, no matter how u think bout it.

you: it just doesn't work out that way

EJ: then.. have you showed something. Something that gives away your identity ?

You stopped typing.

Did you somehow accidentally gave something away while texting with Heeseung?

you: I really don't know ..

EJ sighed, continuing to type out a new reply.

EJ: don't worry bout it

EJ: thank you though for telling me

EJ: I know it's hard for you to say this , that's why thank you (Name).

you are typing. . .

EJ: wait, brb.

You waited for EJ but it has been an hour now so you went back to bed, still a bit ashamed over yourself.

As you dozed off back to sleep, a notification pops up in your phone's lock screen, you turned over to get your phone and there it shows that EJ had sent you a text. A text that instantly warms your heart.

EJ: we all have been a bitch at least once or twice in our life while.. your sister was a full-time bitch.

You couldn't help but giggle at his text, your mind and heart coming to at ease.

EJ: but that doesn't mean we have to turn our back on each other, right?

EJ: friends or family.. well, I couldn't say the same thing for mine but at least we don't betray each other when we truly care for each other.

EJ: it's getting a tad bit long, sorry O_O

EJ: but we all make mistakes

EJ: don't be so hard on yourself..

EJ: gud night (Name).

A small smile find its way through your lips as you typed out a simple and short reply as your phone's screen illuminates on your face.

you: thank you, EJ.. and goodnight!

. . . end of flashback

—

Eyes drooping down to the curve of your hands clasping in a tight manner, anxious and heart beating like the slow sea but mind running like wild horses across the field however instead of the field being green and sunny, it was on a dark field stained with blood — marching to the unknown, consequences and horrors waiting to be unravel, by the tips of your fingers.

The soft dripping of the water from the tap across the kitchen and the soft breeze outside the window gave a serene atmosphere but the complete contrast was your thoughts playing through and through to the multiples choices that could lead to different endings.

Endings that could lead to a horrible one if you somehow made a wrong choice by believing in EJ.

This was the choice you had made just so your sister would truly leave Heeseung for once and for all. For the past few weeks, you had done nothing but to pretend in front of Heeseung while you went through all of those hardships with EJ.

—

It has been a few days since the break up, a few days since you put up your rebellious persona to push your sister away from Heeseung's claws and yet, something wasn't working the way you intended.

It wasn't something you had expected at all. This wasn't it. This definitely wasn't it.

Why is he acting like this?!

Beyond surprised and speechless as to how things went worse than the way it was, or at least went into a scenario in which you didn’t expect would happen at all. No explanation could suffice of how and why Heeseung was locking himself inside his room, and upon the caretaker’s words, he was refusing to eat or drink anything ever since that day. Just what kind of game are you pulling, Heeseung?

"You had only one job. You can't even try to look after him while I'm gone?"

Striding off to the room with hasty knocks upon the caretaker's words, you were still unable to believe it. You thought he would at least 'get over it' after a few days.

"Heeseung, it's me. Can I come in?" trying your best to soften your voice despite the annoyance growing inside you.

This wasn't the plan. This was never the plan.

Yet the sight that was represented in front of you when he let you in; leaning against the edge of the bed. Surprise was an understatement when you saw how his face was looks so tired and painted with sorrow, heavy eyebags and reddish eyes as if he had cried for several days non-stop.

Once again, dilemma strikes you. You were beyond confirmed that he was acting, he was making up a lie and fooling you just like he had always did.

But why, why? What are he getting from this? How will this benefit him for acting up to this great length?

It just doesn't make sense. If he only gets around trying to fool you and your sister, then it shouldn’t have taken up this long. It shouldn’t have. It was too much.

"Heeseung-ah." you approached him and wrapped your arms around him at once, pulling him into a sweet embrace as you hushed him like a small child. He weep silently as you whisper sweet nothings to him.

This was atrocious.

On the other hand, EJ has also been filling you up with informations of how was your sister along these days, safe and well wasn’t in any of the words that came out from his mouth, rather a solemn and depressing story that breaks your heart the more you listened to him.

What in the actual fuck was this? A break-up love story?

Chaewon refuses to eat anything, saying nothing but to take her life or how much she hates you and Heeseung to her core, refusing to meet anyone including your parents.

You knew this was bound to happen when you decided to continue with your rebellious act that day, and as much as you were filled with guilt right now, it was much better. Perhaps even better than staying in Heeseung’s claws and his foolish attempts to brainwash your sister as much as he could.

It was a choice you had to make in the moment of heat since you were unable to comprehend what was the reason lying behind Heeseung's questionable actions towards you and your sister. But whatever the reason could be, you just wanted your sister to get as far as she could away from him, even if it means you'll have to labeled as the 'crazy sister who stole her sister's boyfriend'

Another day, and yet it was the same thing again however much worst than yesterday. He fucking locked his door.

“Heeseung..” you knocked twice at his door, with the food tray on your hand. “You have to eat..”

Silence. You knocked again, thrice it was this time. Your eyebrows knitted together as you let out a sigh, “Heeseung. You can’t do this. At least say something?”

Silence again, but eventually a small voice emits behind the door.

“I don’t have the appetite yet, (Name).. Sorry.”

You bit your lip but you still protests, “But you really have to eat—" pausing instantly as you felt you're pushing it too hard, "Hey, give me the keys for this."

Pushing open the door with the keys, there Heeseung laid on the floor with pictures of your sister scattered on them. The fuck?

"Heeseung! Why are you doing this?" you bend down to your knees, brushing Heeseung's arms.

Your question was met with silence and yet you patiently wait.

“—Sorry, but I just don’t feel like talking right now.” Heeseung’s voice sound so weak and hoarse, almost making your heart sank for him once again as you look down in dilemma, shit.

“But..”

“Please understand.”

Just what are you trying to do Lee Heeseung?

—

“Chaewon, you have to eat, honey.” your mom pleads with Chaewon who has her head buried between her knees, your mother sat beside her with the food tray gone cold on the floor.

“Mom, i already told you I fucking don’t wanna eat.”

“But you haven’t eaten for days already! You’re going to die at this point Chaewon!”

“Then let me die!” She yelled, teeth gritting as her eyes red with tears. Her pained expression buried a deeper hole in her mother’s heart.

“Chaewon-ah..”

“Why do you still want me to live after all that happen, huh? You still want me to see your other daughter?!”

“What do you mean?”

Chaewon scoffed, blowing the strands sticking on her nose in annoyance. Rolling her eyes, she glared at her mother, “(Name), that piece of shit, is a fucking traitor. She fucking seduced Heeseung and guess what I saw? They kissed, mom! They fucking kissed each other!”

Screaming in agony as the memories replayed in her mind, her mother grabbed her arms in attempt to stop her, “Chaewon-ah! Chaewon! Get a hold on yourself! (Name).. She can’t be?!”

Her mother has a hard time to believe what her own daughter had revealed before her, her youngest daughter seducing her older daughter’s boyfriend? What an atrocity is this? She knew you there were moments you could've done questionable things but against your sister?

She still couldn't forget how you layed against your sister's unconscious body in the hospital's quarters back then, your eyes having the remains of tears and lips chapped and dry. Or how you exclaimed how guilty you are that day, crying all night. So, how could it have turned this way?

“I don’t want to see her bratty face again!” Chaewon sniffed, bawling in tears over and over again as she thrashed around, “Doesn’t she know how I love Heeseung? Doesn’t she fucking know that?!”

A pair of sneakers walked through the corridor, halting it’s steps in front of the doorway where the mother and child in each other’s embrace were at.

Tap, tap.

Chaewon and her mother turned their head to the source of the sound, there he stood at the doorway. Denim jeans and his usual shirt serving as a coat,

"Chaewon? Mrs. Kim?”

“Oh, EJ-ah..” Chaewon’s mother stood up, helping her daughter in her arms. “Chaewon, i’ll leave you here with him, okay?”

Chaewon’s mother greets EJ who bowed in response, and as she left through the door, she took a last brief glance to the young boy walking to Chaewon, comforting her in the process. At this moment, her daughter needs someone who cares for her the most. She doesn’t know what to believe right now but her daughter was her priority at this point. Feet slowly going down the stairs, she went to the dining room, doing her own stuff.

There the memory of you replayed in her mind, her fists clenching as she facepalmed herself, sighing dejectedly.

—

. . . flashbacks

“Honey! We have to find (Name)! Who knows what could happened to her outside there?” your mother thrashed around in panic as she slaps her sides, unable to sit or stand still in peace while your father sat on the hospital’s seat, seemingly unbothered but deep inside him, it was chaos.

“She’s still our child!” your mother screams, “Even if she does all those embarrassing things, even if she does even the most sinful thing in this world, in the end she only had us!”

“So what do you want me to do? Call the police?”

“Do you even had to ask that? Honey, really?” your mother frowned, “Why did this even happen? Heeseung already told us he’s going to take care of (Name), himself! But look what happen? If this had happened to Heeseung then god knows what worse could’ve happen to our daughter!”

“Can’t you stop being hypocrite? None of us had even visited (Name) ever since we knew about the shitty things she did, taking drugs behind our back? Unacceptable. If something happened to her outside then that’s her fault, there are consequences for everything.”

Silence.

“God, you keep saying that. You keep acting like you’re tough and all, but deep down we all knew you love her the most.” your father looks down upon hearing your mother’s words.

“If only we didn’t listen to Chaewon and Heeseung, maybe.. Maybe this wouldn’t have happen at all?” your mother cries in her hands. “Maybe at least, (Name) is here with us? To look after her?”

Your father patted her back gently, even he himself needs a pat as he couldn’t express his feelings as his wife did. Because if he do the same, then all hell will break loose.

“It has been done. We shouldn’t doubt Heeseung or Chaewon, they’re the one who knows better and we only had listened to them at that time. Remember? (Name) doesn’t want to see us at all.”

“Can’t she at least try to hear us out though?” your mother bawls in tears. “It’s only natural that we acted like that, it’s not like we’re going to leave her.”

“—Heeseung only told us that there was no need because she already had taken her medications. But I couldn’t expect that she will refuse to meet us at all the day after that!”

Another silence filled the air in the hospital's hallway.

Your father silently murmurs, “Why would she? Our daughter had always been that reckless, but she wouldn’t have been our daughter if she wasn’t.” your father chuckled, tears forming in his eyes as he turned to look at his wife, “After all, she got it from you.”

Your mother chuckled in response, sniffing through her nose as tears fluttered through her eyelashes, “Says the one who raise her that way.”

..end of flashback

Sitting at the desk, your mother brushes her finger at the picture of you as she sips her tea, the hot brew going up the air and the peaceful sunset’s orange glow illuminating on the wooden floor of your living room where you once to sit and joke around them as you hop around when you were younger.

“At least, call us.. (Name).”

—

“Your sister is asleep, right now.” as you sat down on the couch after letting Heeseung on his own, EJ had sent you a text with a picture attached to it, a picture of your sister sleeping soundly with the blankets covering half of her face. Judging by how red her eyelids look, she must’ve cried for god knows how long. Your heart ache, she must be in a great pain. Ah, how you wish you could ran to your house right now and hug her. Feel the soft material of her cardigan against yours, sniffing the sweet fragrance she often used, and watch as she slept, you really do love your sister.

A memory of your sister, mother, father in a family picture suddenly flashed through your mind.

Ah, especially your parents. How could you forget about them?

23 missed calls and 14 messages from mom

mom: where are you??

mom: at least answer my call (name)!

mom: please just let us know if you're safe or not. .

They were your parents after all, even when they didn’t believe you and come to visit even once that day, they still was and will always be your parents until the day you die.

For you were bounded by blood with them.

Unknowingly to you, a tear streamed down your cheeks without your knowledge and so you were surprised, sniffing as you look out the window. It was a good day, and it would have been much a good day if right now, you were actually in the comfort of your home where your family, the root of where your heart belongs.

—

Another fucking day. His behaviour towards you remain the same.

At this point, it baffles you actually, that this boy still continues with his foolish acts. Refusing your advances and so on, acting as if he was the kindest boyfriend who unknowingly got into trouble when in fact he was the one who push on with the attempts of kissing you, and to the point of almost making out. At that particular moment, you got to admit, you were drowning in his sick love and that's why you wanted to slapped yourself as you stood in front of his door once again.

“Heeseung?” you knocked at the door again, silence as always but you pushed it open after a good min of silence.

Other days, when you try to spend time with him, he refuses your touches. Talking about how guilty he felt towards Chaewon. What a fucking joke.

He was so good at making you feel guilty, so good at wrapping you around his finger and yet EJ's words keep pulling you back to reality. Don't trust, don't trust him. At this point, you might call it as the devil's den.

You couldn't afford to repeat the same mistake in believing him again, and so you'll have to control yourself this time. Don't falter.

At this point, it was a battle between logic and emotions.

—

It has been nearly two weeks, two weeks of a seemingly peaceful life only because Heeseung keeps pushing his petty game even further. This won't do, so you and EJ had met secretly somewhere in the city after he gave you the green light.

“He’s still rejecting you?” EJ scoffed in disbelief as you nodded in response, “That bitch, just how long is he going to take this petty game of his?”

“I don’t know, I really have no idea what he was planning by acting all heart broken like this, it sucks to watch.”

EJ leans against the bricked wall, thinking of what to do.

“You know if he’s going to continue acting this way, then so be it. We’ll go with it then.”

“You mean?”

“Pretend with him, keep going with the flow and let’s see how far will he take this shitty game.”

You could only nod, determined to end this game for once and for all.

“So how’s my sister?”

“She’s not really well if I could be honest. Just as we expected, right?”

“I knew it would, she’s far too obsessed with Heeseung so it’s only fair.” You sighed dejectedly, “You’re going to accompany unnie to college today right?”

“Yeah, it’s surprising that she wants to go back to college but don’t worry, i’ll look after her.” EJ smiled.

“Thank you, EJ.” you blurted out without much thought.

“I’m not doing this for you though?—”

“I know, but still thank you. The fact that you were only doing this for my sister is still the same as doing it for me so thank you. You have no idea how much this means alot to me, you taking care of her, I will be indebted to you for the rest of my eternity, y’know?”

EJ smiled. “You do care a lot about her.”

“I guess it’s true.” you look up to the clear blue sky, “had always been that way.”

“It kind of feels like we’re fallen heroes.”

“Heroes? More like supporting characters.” you whined and EJ burst into laughter, and as he walk off, you followed behind him.

“Well at least the supporting characters got more lines? Bet if we’re in a story, we’re the most loved characters.” EJ joked and you giggled.

“Maybe? I hope i’m not too dumb for the readers to dislike me.”

“Same, don’t wanna end up in the top 10 most hated characters too.”

“I might end up in it too, y’know? So you won’t be alone.”

“Wow, that’s an honour. Guess I won’t be alone then.” EJ raised his hand, patting your head and you giggled.

“It would actually be nice if you are my brother.” you let it out as a whisper but EJ managed to catch up with that.

“You know i hope too but then that would mean I couldn’t-” cringing, you two burst into laughter.

“Stop simping on my sister could you?!”

“I don’t if I could?!”

You two walked off together to the city as flowery petals from the trees fell on the both of you, the warm sun illuminating it's shine on the buildings and streets, as the crowds scattered around, going to their respective journey just like you two, going on to the journey where you two hope that she would be there someday too.

—

Chaewon coughed relentlessly inside the car, irritated by the cold she got over the past two weeks. It never seem to go away, but why would it? When her own sister was having the best time of her life right now?

Blinking back her tears as she remembered her mother's words.

“Honey, you can’t let this control you.”

"Just try to go to the college for a day, and if it still doesn't do anything then you can just rest at home as long as you please."

“Remember what EJ said? Heeseung isn’t everything, he isnt the only man in this world. Open your eyes, Chaewon.”

After a few days, Chaewon finally decided to go to the college just to get a break from her mind and from everything. The black car pulled up to the college’s entrance, letting her feet dropped to the ground with ease yet her heavy eyes and pale face was so obvious.

And there, EJ appeared with his hands in his pockets as he followed behind, watching over Chaewon from afar.

Walking to the college was far too empty for Chaewon now, and then Sakura with others appeared out of nowhere with their energy beaming and all, and oblivious to the entire affair happening right now.

“Chae! Girl, why haven’t you been texting us? We’re so damn worried you know.”

“If it wasn’t for your mom telling us that you were sick then we would’ve straight up visit you.”

“Are you still sick though?” Yunjin brushes her palm on Chaewon’s forehead.

“Girl, say something? You’re too damn quiet.”

“Where’s your boyfriend, huh?” Yunjin raises her head up to her eye level, searching for the tall boy.

“Speaking of him, where’s Heeseung? Haven’t seen him anywhere around college either, have he been spending time with you without telling us? Tch, what a clever bitch. Not sharing you with us.” Sakura muttered to herself along with Yunjin.

The name brings nothing but pain to Chaewon, her face contorting into disgust in the mixture of happiness and yet she don’t want the painful memory to play in her mind again on repeat. Sensing this, EJ approached them, grabbing Chaewon by the arm.

“H-hey! Where are you taking her? EJ?”

“Chaewon?”

“C’mon, wanna grab something to eat?”

“Y-yeah.” Chaewon almost let it out as a whisper, the girls unable to hear what she say and yet it was enough for EJ to comprehend what she meant. Taking her by the hand, he guides her out of the college leaving the girls in confusion and their mouth gaping at the weird sight in front of them.

“Bitch, are you seeing what i’m seeing right now?” Yunjin gave herself a light slap on her cheek, “Because if Heeseung see this, it would wreck the whole damn college, don’t you think?”

“Chaewon with that boy? What’s happening?” Eunchae tilted her head in suspicion as they all watched Chaewon and EJ disappearing from their view.

—

“Does it taste good?”

“E-eh?”

“I ask, does it taste good? You don’t look like you’re enjoying it though, if you want we can switch it?..” EJ asked.

“Doesn’t matter, it taste good.” Chaewon spoke in a rather low voice, “Thanks though. I appreciate it.”

“You see, you should really let go of him.”

“Not easy as you think.” Chaewon sighed, rubbing her hands together, "I don't think I will— it's just been two weeks, right?"

"Huh?" EJ was left confused at her vague words.

"He will come back, right? I know he will. He just need time to know that bitch isn't the right one for him—"

“What?— can't you still see how pathetic of a bastard he was?” EJ tilted his head at Chaewon, “Because if he truly loves you then he wouldn’t go around and kiss your sister.”

“Just stop.” Chaewon let out an awkward laugh, trying to suppressed her emotions.

But EJ doesn’t plan to stop, he have to do it, to slam the reality to her face so she would let go of Heeseung once and for all. “No, you’ll have to face it. Chaewon, don’t you think there’s something wrong with him?”

“Don’t you think it’s all weird?”

“What are you saying?”

“I told you, he doesn’t love you like the way you do, Chaewon. Can't you see who truly cares for you?”

“J-just stop!—" covering her mouth with her hand to suppressed her cough, "Fuck— if you really wanted me that much then why don’t you just take me by force and show me how you wanted me huh?”

EJ shook his head, taken aback by Chaewon’s words, “No that’s not what I mean!”

“Please, isn’t that what you want? Like you just wanted to take me to be yours and show the whole college that you actually won me?”

“Chaewon! Get back to your senses, please? That’s not what I intended to do!”

“Then what?!” Chaewon yelled at the top of her lungs, tears forming in her eyes, “Aren’t you guys all the same? You never wanted me either, you just wanted girls for their body or either to play them!”

“Heeseung, K and you! You’re all fucking same. And even that little piece of shit?! She does nothing but gives me trouble!”

Finally, EJ saw red and pulled Chaewon by her collars, promptly pulling her up slightly from the ground. “What? What are you trying to do huh?! Showing your true colours too, fuck!”

“You see, Chaewon. I knew you’ve been fucking brainwashed by Heeseung to the point you cant think for yourself anymore but can you really hear yourself?!” EJ’s face contorts into disgust.

“Can’t you open your fucking eyes for once and see who truly cares about you?! Do you really have to talk like that to your sister huh?! Just what did Heeseung tell you to the point you were like this?!”

"All he did was look after me and my family! And she, and she.. And she took advantage of it and seduced him like I didn’t exist at all!”

“Fuck? Have you gone mad?!”

“I’ve gone mad! I’ve gone fucking mad I want to just rip her hair off! If you truly think I'm mad then why didn’t you just let me kill myself that day?! Why?! Why?!”

EJ shook his head in utter disappointment, ruffling his hair aggressively. “There’s no use, I can’t save you anymore.”

“I don’t need you to save me!! Just who do you think you are?!” Chaewon finally stormed off not even once halting her steps.

“Kim Chaewon!” EJ yelled at the top of his lungs, “You really suck as a person. Even so I still fucking like you! Even so your sister still fucking care for you! If it was other person, if it wasn’t us, then they would have fucking given up on you because of how worst you are as a person! And yet we still— we.. we still didn’t give up on you! It’s tiring, don’t you think? To relentlessly try to persuade you to fucking think for once! Think! Think fucking Chaewon! Who’s the one who will really be loyal to you for eternity?!”

—

“Bro, what?! Lee fucking Heeseung did what?!” Jake yelled, the magazine hovering on his face fell dramatically on the floor along with his face gaping down at Chaewon and the rest mirroring his expression.

“No, no, you must’ve gotten it wrong! It must be a random guy!”

“Bitch, do you hear yourself?” Sakura yelled at Sunghoon, throwing a pillow onto his head in which he successfully catches it with ease, sticking a tongue at her in the process.

“Wait, are you seriously telling me Heeseung did that to you with your sister?” Heemin froze, dropping the snacks on her hand down to the floor.

“Yeah.” Chaewon could only simply say one thing, tired to explain even more.

“Fuck. This is too much, i’m calling him.” Heemin pulled out her phone, dialling her brother’s number.

The bathroom's door pulls open and there Heeseung came out with a white towel wrapped around his waist, beads of waters on his neck and down to his shoulders.

Ruffling his wet hair after he took a quick shower, he looks at himself through the mirror's reflection and couldn't help but giggle, however it was cut short as he got interrupted by the sudden call from his phone — his heart almost jumped as he thought it was you but turns out it was his sister.

Scoffing in disbelief, Heeseung grabbed his phone with a deep frown on his face and as he answered it with a disinterested look, “Yeah?”

“Lee Heeseung! Just who do you think you are?!” Ears hurting upon the abrupt and loud voice of his sister, he immediately pushed the phone away from his ears, Heeseung hissed.

“The fuck you shouting for?”

“You cheated on Chaewon with that whore?! Are you on your right mind or are you really insane?!”

“What? Chaewon told you that?”

Ah. Right? Lazily looking up to the ceiling, he sighed as he slowly covered his face with his hands and he begun to bawl in tears much to his sister's surprise.

“I..—” he choked on his tears, “Is Chaewon there?..”

“H-huh??” Heemin’s mouth could only gape as she turn back and forth to Chaewon who lean against the window, obviously solemn and depressed. “Yeah I guess? But it’s not like you had the right when you obviously-”

“I’m sorry.. I’m really sorry, it wasn’t my intention, i didn’t mean to! I—” Heeseung bawled in tears. "I'm really sorry—"

"H-huh??" shocked at the abrupt change of his brother's voice, her jaw dropped. is he fucking crying right now?

Heemin observed as Chaewon stood up on her feet, grabbing her bag, "Fuck college. I'm just going home."

"C-chae—" Heemin tried to call out for her and yet she went off not saying anything more.

"Why? Is there something wrong with Chaewon?—"

Still surprised over his brother's cries on the other side of the phone, Heemin was unable to find words but quickly regain her composure after a few seconds, “Yah, of course. It's all because of you. You’re really fucking shameless to even hook up with a kleptomaniac. Like please, Heeseung get your brain work for fucking once, oh my god—” Heemin abruptly hang up the phone. A bit disturbed at her brother's sudden change of behaviour.

"Noona! Noona—" calling out in desperation but soon he realise the call has ended, and as he briefly stared at the phone, another giggle escaped from his faint red lips as he wiped off his tear stained cheeks. "Fuck. What a waste of time."

Plopping on to his bed after putting on his attire for the day, he scrolled through his phone's gallery which has a hundreds of photos of you — a sigh of contentment escaping from his mouth here and then as his eyes holding insanity with a mixture of admiration and love spent hours looking at your pictures, stroking your photo against the phone's screen and there a sinister thought forms in his mind.

"Sweetheart, why don't we meet your beloved family today?" his lips pulled up in the widest smile, his doe eyes crinkling in the slightest smiles as he pushed himself up, tiny hops from his feet as he pulled open his closet.

"Ah, was this that bitch's favourite cardigan?" Checking himself after putting on the cardigan, he leans forward looking at his face and in a split second, he gasped covering his mouth with his hand as he shut his eyes tight, and there he bawls in tears again.

In which, he briefly paused to check himself in front of the mirror and ruffled his hair to make himself look like a mess. "Now we look depressed."

—

"Chaewon-ah, why are you home so early?"

"College sucks. I just wanna rest, mom." Chaewon threw her bag on the couch, unable to stay outside or even do anything even when the day has barely started.

Knock, knock.

"Honey, can you get the door for me, please?"

You went back to Heeseung’s house and to your surprise, he wasn’t there even in his room despite you calling for him anywhere in the quarters and then you suddenly caught something in your peripheral view, turning to look at it from your shoulder, it was a note sticked against the table. You immediately grabbed the note, reading it as your breath hitched and eyes widening with every words written on it.

Fuck. No— No! No way!

Heeseung knelt down on his knees despite his ‘troubles’ with his crutches, as Chaewon could only stand still and watch him, a mixture of happiness, hatred and anger spiraling inside her. Her mother eventually appears behind her, her expression mirroring Chaewon's.

“I’m really, really sorry.” bawling in tears, he buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t deserve you, it was my fault and I know it was, and so I’m not asking you to come back to me nor forgive me— It’s just that i can’t bear the fact that you have to suffer all because of me and that’s why please don’t cry about me anymore, don’t just please don’t, I really don’t deserve your tears.”

“Heeseung. .” tears streaming down Chaewon's cheeks as she clenched her fists, heart clenching in pain as well with the sight of the man he loves bawling in tears in front of her.

Especially the blue cardigan he was wearing right now was the same cardigan he had worn on their first date, her favourite one, just like she told him that day.

“Just please don’t hate on (Name), will you?”

“W-what?” Chaewon’s face contort into anger and disgust the moment she heard those words. Rage instantly engulfed her being.

Heeseung shook his head as he cried, mouth trembling, “It wasn’t (Name)’s fault, it was mine. She didn’t do anything, it was me, it was my fault that I didn’t control myself-”

“Why?—" her eyebrows knitted together in the deepest frown as she tries to make sense of what she heard, stepping backwards in disbelief, "Why are you still defending her? She was the reason our relationship are gone just like that!”

“Chaewon-ah! Calm down, honey.”

“No!” Chaewon growls, pushing her mother’s arms away, “It was all because of her! Heeseung, I wasgoing to give you a chance and yet you’re here defending her? Just what do you truly want?!”

The cab pulling up in front of your neighborhood has you speed up towards the direction of your house instantly. Please! Don't believe him, just yet! At the commotion going in front of your house’s entrance, you were shook to your core to see Heeseung kneeling down in front of your mother and sister. ‘No. No. I cannot let you fool them anymore! Not again! Just get away from them!'

Rapid heartbeat and rushed breathing as you strode off to their direction and your mother instantly noticing you with her eyes widening and mouthing your name.

“Heeseung-ah!” You called out and there, all their eyes turned to you, the atmosphere grew more thicker upon your arrival. Grabbing Heeseung’s arms, you whined almost like a child, “Heeseung, just what are you doing here? Come on, let’s go home, please.”

Chaewon gritted her teeth, the sight in front of her about to make her puke, “You're so fucking shameless, aren't you?”

You froze, and Heeseung was trying all he could to suppress his smile.

“Honey? Tell me this isn’t true?” Your mother spoke, eyes begging you to defend yourself which confuses you.

"I told you mom. Do you still need any other proof?" Chaewon sighed dejectedly, tears forming in her eyes as she was too tired. She slowly walked back inside the house as she wiped off her tears, not even taking one last look of Heeseung or you.

'Ah. She gave up.' Heeseung smiled inside.

Your mother's heart swell in pain as she watches your sister went off through the stairs, and with a pained look, she turned back to you, "(Name)?— just why? Tell me this isn't true?"

Dilemma. You wanted nothing but to run off to your mother's arms and tell her how much you missed her, how tired you are of everything and to tell her the truth— just so you are able to say, "I'm home." and live your normal and peaceful life again.

But you knew you couldn't. You can't. As the boy in your arms are the very reason why you can't tell the truth, the obstacle that prevents you from coming back home — to your family.

Ignorant fool. Your daughter doesn't love you anymore, she's all mine now. Heeseung laid his head against your shoulder, taking in the sweet scent of your hair.

Say it, say it love. One word, one sentence and it's all finally fucking done.

You stroked Heeseung's hair, your eyes never leaving your mother as you gritted your teeth, hissing. “—Why are you even asking? It’s not like you’re going to believe me nor defend me anyway?” you raised your eyebrow, and your mother instantly shook her head.

“—No, honey! That's now how it looks like! I know it's our fault but— just where have you been? I know it was my and your dad’s fault but we actually tried to vis-”

"Just shut up. I don't need to hear your excuses anymore—"

“We tried to visit you! But you never let us, (Name)!—”

Scoffing, you stood up on your feet. “I don’t give a fuck anymore, you all made my life miserable and yet Heeseung was the only one there for me. Tell me, when did you ever tried to save me?” you did all you could to stop your tears from forming in your eyes by biting your tongue.

"(Name)! So it's true then? You. ." Your mother took a brief glance at Heeseung, "You did that to your sister?"

"So what?" you tilted your head, letting out a giggle, "Heeseung never loved her anyways. Also just please stop calling her my sister, she's a bitch anyways. And please stop calling me too, it's fucking annoying."

Silence. The atmosphere had grew empty, only the birds chirping and the warm heat from the setting sun was what was felt in that moment.

Blinking back her tears, your mother shook her head in disappointment, “Just get out, do as you please. Just don’t ever show your face here again..”

Your jaw clenching at her words but you regain your composure, dragging Heeseung away from them, it’s better this way – it’s so much better that it was this way, at least this devil won’t be close with them anymore.

Silence it was when you and Heeseung went home through the cab, night had fallen when the cab pulled up through his house's entrance.

You helped Heeseung with his crutches and guided him to his house's front door. "Why don't you come in?"

"Your family must be home now, you know I can only visit during the day, right?" your lips formed in a small smile, "Plus, they won't like me here."

"Right." Heeseung looked down, a faint blush kissing the apples of his cheeks as he looked at you again, "But who cares a shit about their opinion?"

"Huh?" What shit is he trying to pull here?

"You know, I'm really sorry for today and for all the troubles I put you in through. I just can't bear the guilt—"

"I know, I understand that." you sighed, this is the chance. "But you shouldn't have kissed me that day if you're going to act like this."

You gasped as he closes in the distance between you and him, his crutches tapping on the floor as he did so. His height towering over you as his eyes holding something that you couldn't seem to comprehend —never leave yours. "I don't regret it one bit."

Finally. You both had the same thought at once.

"Y-you do?"

Heeseung nodded, his heart jumping in excitement, finally his patience was paying off. "I— I realise that you're really the one I only truly like all this time. . It's complicated, I know. I tried my best to ignore it but there's no one but you, it's you all this time. But I have to apologize to your sister. . That's why I did that today. I just really have to get it off my chest, (Name)."

Liar. You just wanted to ruin my relationship with my family.

"Then that means you are really going to get over her now then?" you asked, clenching your fists behind your back as he stroked your cheek with his finger. "You won't think of anyone but me now?"

You could puke at your words right now but you just had to.

"Yes. Yes." His hand slowly reaches your nape, "I'm really sorry for making you wait this long."

"I promise that I will only be yours and only yours." Heeseung's eyes grew more lovesick and he just wanted nothing but to claim you as his now, but patience was the key.

The atmosphere was growing thicker as you both got lose in each other's eyes, he leans in closer bit by bit.

And you knew what he was about to do, you prepared for this very moment as he pulled you closer, the distance between your lips and his growing closer. Your heartbeat beats in both excitement and fear, while his was in complete bliss and joy.

However, the door pulls open revealing one of the maids whose face turned into a surprised look upon the sight in front of her, "A-ah, forgive me!"

You both pulled away from each other instantly, heart dropped at the maid's presence. Heeseung was suppressing the need to roll his eyes at the maid for ruining the perfect moment he had with you, and you who was visibly annoyed as well.

But the reason for your annoyance wasn't because of the kiss, you were annoyed that your plan might've not work if somehow Heeseung changes his mind. However, he notice your annoyance and giggled, in which you rubbed your neck in an abashed manner. "Are you that annoyed you weren't able to kiss me?"

"Maybe?" You pouted.

"We still have a chance though. Wanna try again—"

"You don't need to ask me, you know." you interrupted him and without hesitating, you grabbed his collar and pulled him into a kiss. Heeseung was taken aback by you taking the lead but nonetheless it was eventually replaced with bliss as he kissed you back.

Ever since then, you and Heeseung were in a relationship. For him it was, but for you it was solely for the plan you had with EJ. You had helped Heeseung with regaining his ability to walk again by accompanying him through his visit in the hospital every now and then. It took quite awhile but he soon was able to walk again without crutches, although fairly slow than normal but it was at least better.

However, you had actually wish he would just stay limp forever.

Being in a relationship with Heeseung has more cons than the pros as the more you spent time with him, the more it becomes clear that he was manipulating you with his words. Even when you asked him to make your relationship private for awhile, it somehow made its way through the people's mouths to the point two of Heeseung's friends, Niki and Jake with Heeseung's sister was in front of your bestfriend's apartment.

The fact that they were able to find where you currently stay was nothing, since you knew they were rich enough to hire people to search for you and yet one thing that rages you the most was when they straight up went into a fight with your best friend, Chaeryeong.

The boy, Niki threw insults at you along with Heemin while Jake couldn't do anything but watch behind them as he fiddled his fingers, seemingly anxious and apologetic for you that he can't stop them.

"Fuck you." throwing the middle finger at you, he hissed in disbelief, "What kind of sister are you, huh?"

"Isn't it enough that you steal stuff?—"

"That you have to steal someone's boyfriend? Your sister's boyfriend!"

"You could've just— ugh! Don't you get any shame left in you?? Bitch."

You stayed silent. If you wanted, you could have punch the kid and yeet him back to Japan, and Heemin to the sea. You just can't add more fuel into the fire as you don't want to attract anymore attention.

Chaeryeong went inside her apartment as she can't take anymore of the insults thrown at you and thus upon coming back, to their utter surprise and especially you, she threw the expired cake she had been keeping in the fridge since a month ago, at their face.

"Bitch! Yah!" Ni-ki and Heemin went into a full mode rage and got in a cake fight with Chaeryeong, and it took you and Jake a whole 30mins to pull them apart. The fight ending with a bunch of curses thrown at each other, and of course then being drenched in icings.

Chaeryeong won't stop cursing at them even when you helped her with the tissues, wiping off the cake's icing on her face and hair. "Girl, I don't know what's happening in your social life but that bitches aren't it."

"I know." you couldn't helped but giggle at how adorable your bestfriend looks.

When Heeseung heard about it, he immediately rush over to see you, asking if you were hurt or anything.

And you never got used with him being a sweet and kind boyfriend to you.

His touches and his sweet words suffocate you because everything about him feels like a sweet dream, the only main difference was it was a nightmare in disguise — you felt like you were walking on a thin ice with him as you have to pretend that you knew nothing about anything he did.

"I'm sorry about them, especially my sister." Heeseung frowned, clenching his fists but you shrugged it off by interlacing your fingers with his.

"It's fine. Don't worry."

"This is not how I intended it to happen, you know, with my friends. But I guess it won't work anyways since yea—" he paused but a small smile eventually formed on his lips as he brushed his finger against your cheeks, "But I had another plans."

"Hm? What is it?"

“I’m going to bring you to meet my friends.” Heeseung smiled.

“Friends?” you shook your head in disbelief, an awkward dry laugh emits out from your mouth, “I.. don’t think that’s a great idea when they obviously don’t like me. . .”

Heeseung then chuckled, “Oh if you mean them, don't worry. Of course it’s not them. I’m going to bring you to my most closest friends. My friends back in high school, I treasure them a lot. So the girl I love and the friends I treasure? That would be my happiest moment."

Wait. This is it. The group EJ was talking about! That's it! Its them!

The smile on your face grew wider, "Of course! I would love to meet them!"

He stroked your cheek, giggling to how adorable you were while your heart jumped in fear and excitement. The plan was finally working.

—

The day finally comes as you stood in front of a practice studio.

"Let's go?" Heeseung sweetly smiled at you as he extended his hand for you to grabbed and you did so, nodding with the fake smile on your face.

Heeseung talks about his high school days as he guides you inside the studio, and then inside the main hallways where the dark painted wall has weird and macabre posters all over them, and if it wasn’t for the huge range of musical instruments under it, you would’ve thought this was a nest for killers.

As you walked across the hall, the sound of a band playing rock music echoes so loud throughout the room as you walked closer to it. Heeseung turns to look at you from his shoulder and gave you a comforting smile and rubs your hand against his, he brings his right arm and wrapped it around your shoulder.

"We're here."

Then Heeseung halted his steps in front of a door, you could hear someone singing and the multiple voices inside it. Loud and wild as you called it.

Heeseung knocked at the door, calling out for them in a loud voice, "Yah, I'm here!"

Then the music died down, only the drums remain as you heard a young man’s voice answering from behind amidst the loud noise of electric guitars in which Heeseung grabs the door handle and pushes open door open and there your sight was met with Heeseung’s friends.

Its them. You couldn't expect that you've already met them before, and here you are now meeting them for the second time.

EJ: I'm not talking about Heeseung's college friends. It's not them. Heeseung was once in a rock band back in high school.

EJ: but after he went to college, he could no longer play with them but they still had a close relationship till this day. They're the one who had that deal with Heeseung.

EJ: don't get fooled. they all had some shady stuffs that they do for living.

“Oh it’s you again?” the red-haired boy’s face beamed so bright when his eyes were laid upon you, who was behind Heeseung. He sprints toward you with the same smile you first saw him, and then the black-haired boy at the keyboard, and at the blue-haired boy standing at the far right with an electric guitar hanging on his shoulder and down to his hands and a pair of unfamiliar face, one was so tall and the other one was fairly a bit shorter than most of them.

EJ: Beomgyu, the red-haired boy. One of the three lead electric guitarists.”

EJ: “Hueningkai, the youngest one, he plays the keyboard.”

"Woah wait, you're Heeseung's girlfriend?" The youngest one covered his mouth as his eyes widened in fractions, surprise to what he was seeing.

EJ: Yeonjun, the eldest with his signature blue mullet hair, he plays the bass.”

EJ: “Soobin, the leader, plays the electric guitar. The center and the main vocalist out of the two.”

The first time you met them was in the hospital, in EJ's room. But there was only three of them that day, with their leather jackets, dyed hair and the guitar cases leaning against the wall. Who knew, it was actually them.

EJ: Taehyun, the brown haired boy. You'll notice him since he's a bit short than the rest. He's the second lead electric guitarists.”

"Hi, I'm Taehyun." His messy brown hair, bold eyeliners and red lips, and his innocent eyes sparkling like stars as he stretched out his hand to you, his leather jacket and. . . His scent.

Huh? Why does it feels like I knew this scent? You shake his hand and and his lips tugged up in a wide smile, "You got a pretty girlfriend here, Heeseung."

"Yeah and she's mine." Heeseung pulled you to his side with a pout on his face, "Back off."

"Alright, alright." Taehyun chuckled and you couldn't help but observed his figure, something about him was giving you a weird feeling. . However you were snapped out of your thoughts as one of them speaks up.

"Heeseung is a loverboy now I guess." Soobin said as he fixes his guitar's strings.

"Ew, loverboy!" Beomgyu's loud voice echoes through the room as he covered his mouth pretending to gagged. "Miss, I hope you aren't having a hard time with this giant idiot."

"God. Beomgyu." Heeseung groans.

It's weird. They all feel like normal college boys you often saw everywhere, hanging around in the city and plays around with each other. Teenagers nearing their adulthood but spent their time living as if there was no tomorrow. People who loathe studying during the day and yet relentlessly chase for their passions in the night, just like the band aids wrapped around their fingers.

But as it turns out, they aren't innocent as they seem. Why?

EJ: and him. He's also Heeseung's high school friend but they went into the same college so I bet you already knew him.”

you: Who?

The bell from the door behind you rings and pulls open, and a dark red guitar came in sight with the straps hanging on the boy’s shoulder who then lifted his head to look at you and at Heeseung.

EJ: he's the only who can help us. That one friend, i’ve been telling you, he is—

“Oh, Jungwon!”

EJ: Jungwon, the lead guitarist on the right and he's the second vocalist of the group. He's the only who can get us that tape.

"Oh hey— you?" His feline-like eyes glint in confusion as he looks at you. It's him.

But how can you even persuade him to get him into your side? The fact that he knew the entire situation between you and Heeseung and everything makes it so hard to even get close to him, or even say hi.

"I think I don't really need to introduce you to her, right Jungwon?" Heeseung pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist. "But I'll say it again though since you all are already here. Meet my girlfriend, (Name)."

“Huh? So you guys knew each other? I thought you said you didn't knew him back then.” Yeonjun raises his eyebrow.

“Right? I thought you only knew EJ?” Beomgyu pouted, seemingly confused at the sight in front of him. Jungwon's eyes glints upon hearing EJ's name and you noticed that.

EJ: he's the only one we could trust rn, (Name).

But Beomgyu's question pulls you back to reality as you notice Heeseung's eyes fixated on you, waiting for your response.

Shit. If only you knew back then, if only you knew it was them. Then you would've say that you knew Heeseung as well. Fuck, what should I say now?

© sweetpieceofnightmarez 11. 23. 22

-> secondary blog: @llyzblog

-> taglist: @mimikittysblog , @zanyduckkitten , @skuiall , @teugiie

#enha #enha imagines #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung fluff #enhypen fluff

[did-somebody-say-pizza-rolls]

apologies if someone has already said this but I only finished it last night so here’s my two cents about good omens season 2

Nina and Maggie are a parallel to Crowley and Aziraphale but not in the way you’d expect.

You’d expect Nina and Crowley to be paired together. They’re both the grumpy, glass half empty, albeit more “realistic” half of their duos. They wear dark colored clothes and have more similar, sarcastic, personalities. The grumpy to their partner’s sunshine.

Maggie and Aziraphale are the same. They’re cheery, idealistic, glass half full people. Their clothes are lighter and brighter and they’re always smiling and looking on the bright side of life. Sunshine people.

BUT

Thinking back on the last scene between Maggie, Nina, and Crowley, I can’t help but feel like the dynamic is Nina/Aziraphale and Maggie/Crowley.

Here’s why:

All throughout, we see Nina in an emotionally abusive relationship with her girlfriend. She’s constantly getting texts telling her she’s awful and she doesn’t care and eventually, threats that her partners leaving and won’t return. The same can be said about Aziraphale’s relationship with Heaven. They’re both aware the relationship is bad, but they’re so far in they feel a duty to uphold it and make things work, despite the clear imbalance (they care for their abusers more than their abusers care about them). Like Crowley said, Heaven, Hell, they’re all toxic—but Aziraphale still values that relationship because it’s all he’s been conditioned to know. Until or course, Crowley came along and showed him the truths of the world, challenged him to think for himself and showed him it’s ok to walk your own path—which is exactly what Maggie offers to Nina. A clean slate, a chance to rediscover her individuality, and time to figure that all out.

Likewise, Maggie’s been shown throughout the entirety of season 2 to be happy and self-sufficient with her independence. She runs her own shop, connects with people through the shop keepers monthly meetings, and dedicated her time to a passion and shop that other people may not value but SHE does and that’s enough. What’s more Crowley-coded than that? Marching to the beat of his own drum, caring for the Bentley more than he does people, forming his own eccentricities around ducks, music, wine, etc. BUT like Crowley, Maggie is shown to be missing one thing, wanting one thing: love. She has a crush on Nina across the street and has been silently pining after her for a while now (close proximity slow burn sound familiar anyone?) and much like Crowley, she’s the one to admit her feelings to a very hesitant Nina.

But the scene with the three of them at the end is very inspiring for the future of Aziraphale and Crowley, in my opinion. Nina and Maggie sit Crowley down and tell him they’re people and they can’t be toyed with for the sake of celestial matters. Nina even goes as far to say she’s not ready for a new relationship (because her previous one was so awful) but hopes if Maggie sticks around, they can make it work—which Maggie is almost immediate in reassuring she will be there. It’s played for laughs here, but looking back with the knowledge of what happens with Crowley and Aziraphale just after this, I’m looking back on the line with a quiet hope that it’s a sign of what’s to come for our ineffable duo. Because really, in what universe can anyone see Crowley NOT wait for Aziraphale?

What I think this means for next season (God, PLEASE give us a third season) is Aziraphale will finally start to cut off ties with Heaven (or maybe they’ll cut off ties with him, a la Lindsay), especially after realizing a relationship with Crowley is possible (shoutout Gabriel and Beelzebub). But whatever happens, I’m positive Crowley will be there, as always, to welcome him back. And Aziraphale will perform one hundred I-was-wrong dances and they’ll drive the Bentley off into the sunset (to their new cottage in the South Downs).

Or maybe I’m just delusional and coping ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

tldr: Nina is Aziraphale, Lindsay/Heaven are their abusives exes, and Maggie/Crowley are the people who actually love them and will wait for them to come around.

#good omens #good omens season two #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 3 predictions #maggie/nina #ineffable divorce #ineffable husbands

[louisisalarrie]

Hey! I’m the anon who asked how touring works. Thank you for such a great explanation! Really appreciate you taking the time.

I’m a Louis fan…wasn’t previously into 1D (am now!) but I found solo Louis first. Can I ask you what makes you so sure Louis is gay? I’m not challenging this in anyway…I guess I just wanted thoughts from someone who has been around all of this a lot longer. I saw the anon saying they read that Simon knew Louis was gay etc right from the start and you responded (beautifully, I might add) but do you really feel certain he is?

Like I say, I’m newer to all of this. I’m a Louis fan first and foremost and I honestly didn’t know about Larry until I got into Louis so this has blown my mind a little. I know there are various receipts about this and fans feel that Louis is loud at his shows but I’m just not sure!

Looking back at his early, early days when he got onto xfactor he seemed to be playing it ‘straight’ - had a girlfriend, ladding a lot with his mates. There are even reports from his school days saying he treated kids that were out at his school badly - I guess that could be part of him being confused and not accepting how he felt until he met Harry?

I’m so sorry if any of this comes across inappropriately. Your responses are always so great that I wanted to ask you…and thank you x

Hello angel!! Love to see you here and being curious on everything. I’ll pop in my two cents as well, but here are some excellent larry timelines and resources to, well, help with the whole reason we believe in larry.

Now, let’s get down to what I think from being here from the beginning.

I watched louis and Harry fall in love. Even from very early on, it is painfully obvious that they acted very differently around the other boys. The fond eyes at each other, the PDA, the full comfort at acting so domestic and touchy with each other that even I don’t look at and touch my bestie like that, and I’m a very touchy and affectionate person. So, heading down the rabbit hole, I’m gonna give you some really strong gifs for reference, and then tackle the louis notes you made. There are a heap of different larry resources on tumblr, so I won’t go through an insane amount, and just keep this concise.

Re your comment about louis playing it straight, him and Harry were immediately acting like a couple. I’ve had some lad friends, and they certainly don’t look at each other like the above, nor fake make out with each other, bc yikes, that would make you look gay, and why would he want his lads to think that? He was immediately thrown into the public eye, very quickly got a heap of fans, and wasn’t exactly keeping his guard up to make sure he didn’t look gay in front of a global audience. I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen him act like this with anyone except Harry. He jokes around with the other guys, sure, but if you go through those masterposts and videos, it’ll become very clear that he just couldn’t keep himself from Harry. Even during the video diaries and X factor, from the very beginning, he was touching Harry all the bloody time. Regardless if they weren’t blatantly kissing on camera (as advised not to), you can see the affection and how natural it looks. It just kinda happened. I just don’t see him acting like a lad during X factor as you said, and not sure where that idea came from, but I promise you that there’s a lot of proof of him being quite flamboyant and expressing himself in the manner of how many gay men do. That’s not me stereotyping, whatsoever, but the things he said and the way he acted with Harry, don’t line up with straight to me.

Now, I feel like if you’ve come into the Larry/1d world with Solo Louis being your first experience, this can all be super overwhelming and intimidating and very very strange hahaha, because he presents himself quite differently now (but the matching tattoos are still there xx) and you haven’t been here for all the stunts and the beginning of bbg and all that. Also, the Solo Louis fandom holds an overwhelming amount of people who are anti larry and therefore anti larries (including the person who took a poster to louis’ concert that said “larries mass extinction” on it… yikes), so you can often be fed a lot of misinformation. Whereas here in this beautiful community on tumblr, and even on Twitter, I never see any larries going out of their way to send horrible messages to antis. They really love coming into our inboxes though (god knows how many “you should unalive yourself”) messages I’ve received from antis since I’ve been a larrie), and actively telling us we’re trash, so they tend to try to make us look as horrible as possible, including, spreading misinformation about Louis.

Now, I don’t know where the receipts are about young louis treating gay kids horribly, so if you could provide them to me, I’d absolutely be happy to look into them and verify (to the best of my ability) if they’re real or not, but spoiler alert, I very much doubt they have any validity to them. We never knew louis when he was at school, so you’d have to just trust this person who’s saying louis is homophobic (which so many anti louis/anti larry fans do), but also, growing up in a place like Doncaster around that time, I imagine it was extremely taboo to be anything other than a straight laddy lad who played footy and had a gf.

If louis had figured out his sexuality prior to meeting Harry, and knew he was gay or maybe bi or at least curious, I highly doubt he would’ve come out in that space at that time of his life. Growing up gay is harddddd. Teenagers are so mean. And trying to fit in is important when you’re a kid just trying to figure everything out.

Now, not saying that louis did this, but in my experience, I watched a few kids who now have come out as gay pick on others in school who were out. Some of the bullying got really bloody bad, and it was all to just shut out their own feelings, and pushing away any ideas that they were anything but straight. It happens a lot, it’s insecurity, it’s feeling extremely uncomfortable with who you are, peer pressure, and maybe a family who would kick your ass if you came out to them. It’s a very hard thing to navigate.

Him having a gf at the time, Hannah, I explained about in a previous ask from an anon. You can find that on my page under #anon #answered and I think I may have tagged #hannah as well??? I probably did, but I wrote a timeline and big explanation as to what I believe happened there, and provided with proof. So jump in and have a squiz if you’re keen!

Also you didn’t come across as rude at all! You’re curious to know, and I’m here to help. xx let me know if I’ve not answered something or you want further clarification on anything, there’s a lot to cover here and I’m a bit sleepy but never hesitate to hit me up! Thanks babe!

#anon #answered

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Connection: Virgil

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Janus

Warnings: panic attack

Pairings: prinxiety

Word Count: 2471

Virgil glances up as the door to the coffee shop dings and grins when he sees the cute boy again.

Virgil glances up as the door to the coffee shop dings and grins when he sees the cute boy again. He's gotten pretty good at predicting when certain students are going to come in and Princey's about as firm a schedule as it gets. He leans against the counter and props his hand on his chin, waiting for Roman to look up and see him.

"Hey there, Princey."

"What? Oh. Uh, hey."

Virgil frowns. "You okay?"

"Oh, aren't we all."

That…wasn't an answer. Roman's still patting his pockets like he's lost something. After a few moments, he lets out a noise of triumph as he produces a piece of paper and smooths it over his knee. He reads it once or twice, mouthing a few of the words, before he sighs and folds it up again, still holding it in his hand. Only then does he seem to realize he has, in fact, made it to where he was trying to go and his face flips through several expressions before landing on one that any of Virgil's coworkers would be proud to have.

"Virgil! Hello, yes, hi. Sorry, I'm a bit out of it right now."

"No problem, I've been there." He moves to the register. "You want your massive pile of sugar?"

"Ah, no."

Now this is a problem. Never once in all the months that he's been coming here has Roman ever deviated from his normal order. Thankfully—or rather, thanks to having to work a customer service job—Virgil recovers in a split second and just nods. "Sure, bud. What do you want instead?"

"What's the cheapest thing on the menu?"

"…technically we have to give out free cups of water, so that's the cheapest thing, but I think some of the roasts are only, like fifty cents—"

"I'll have a cup of water, thanks."

Problem. Problem central. Houston, we are having so many problems right now.

"Hey, Princey?"

"Mm?"

"Are you—wellness check. Not a bit, not customer service, are you okay?"

For a moment, he thinks Roman's just going to brush it off. Say that he's fine or another equal non-answer and Virgil will just have to sneak a cookie into his bag again to make sure he's doing alright, but then the whole man just deflates. It's almost impressive, the way he loses about two inches of height and just manages to look small—though the man's an actor, so it makes sense that he knows how to change his appearance with just body language—but more importantly, this is Roman beginning to admit he's not okay.

Oh, fuck, Roman's not okay.

"Hey, hey," Virgil's saying softly before he even realizes it, reaching across the counter, "stay with me, bud, it's gonna be alright. I'm right here, there's no one else here—" quick check to make sure that's really true— "it's just us. You're safe here."

The piece of paper crinkles ominously in Roman's hand. Slowly, telegraphing his movements so Roman can stop him, Virgil reaches up and carefully takes his hand in his. Roman jerks, glaring hard at Virgil's expression for a moment, before he softens and lets himself be led to lean against the counter.

"I'm gonna get you that cup of water," Virgil says, still speaking softly, "and then you and I are gonna go sit in the back, yeah?"

"You're working," Roman mumbles.

"You see anyone else here?"

"…no."

"Then it's okay. Come on, Princey, you can do it. I believe in you."

It makes a little hysterical snort come out of Roman but he looks steady enough to let go while Virgil shoves a cup under a sink—lid, straw on instinct—and carries it back over. He nudges it gently into Roman's free hand and scoots around the counter, offering a shoulder to lean on while they walk to the back. He nudges the door open with his foot and carefully deposits the Roman-pile onto a beanbag chair.

"Hey," he murmurs once they're sitting, still talking a bit like Roman's a feral cat about to swipe at him, "hey, Princey. Drink some of that water, yeah?"

Roman sticks the straw in his mouth and takes a few gulps. The water does the trick; he gives himself a bit of a shake and sets it down, leaning back against the wall and covering his face with his hands. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, we've all been there." He leans back too, shoulder to shoulder. "You wanna talk about it?"

"It's dumb."

"Princey, a lot of things in this world are dumb. Not selling both shoes in a pair for the same price, upcharging people for an extra straw—"

Roman snorts again and Virgil grins.

"—but whatever's making you upset probably isn't that. Unless you tell me you're upset 'cause the school voted not to host that alt-right speaker, then we're gonna have questions."

"Listen here, you absolute jackwagon—"

Virgil laughs and after a moment, Roman joins in. And then, well, Virgil's gotta take a moment just to stare at him because goddamnit, Roman Prince is adorable when he laughs and Virgil is here to appreciate it. He's got this smile that—okay, no, Virgil knows it's cliche to wax on about someone's smile but Roman's is perfect. He's got that slightly crooked one where one side of his mouth curls up a little higher than the other and then his eyes get all wrinkly at the corners and his nose scrunches up right in the middle…he's so gosh darn cute.

Then he stops laughing and starts to look like a sad puppy again and Virgil shifts closer, pressing their sides together.

"I'm not going anywhere, Princey," he says quietly, "you can tell me if you want."

Roman takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "They're changing how they're doing financial aid scholarships."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm." His fingers toy with the paper. "They—they want higher grades now and they've capped how much they're going to give out."

Virgil sits up a little more. There's a wrinkle in between Roman's brows now.

"I—so I just came from a meeting with my academic advisor, right, and I was like—I told her that I really need this scholarship money, like I don't think I can be here without it and she said—she said she'd take it up with the Dean and I could come and present my case in person, but I just—"

He lets out a shuddering breath, leaning his head back against the wall again.

"I don't know if I can do this."

Virgil's quiet for another moment, just in case Roman isn't done. When he doesn't say anything else, he gently taps Roman's arm. He gets the hit and starts to drink more of the water.

"I can't imagine how scary that must be," he starts off, "and I'm so sorry you're going through this right now. That's really shitty of them to do to you and I really wish it weren't happening."

"You and me both."

"But when it comes to you not being able to do it? Princey, look at me." Roman turns and he's got this sad little pouty face and Virgil can feel himself getting softer by the second. "You are one of the strongest people I know, okay? You will get through this, 'cause I know you and I know you'll kick the ass of any problem that thinks it can fuck with you."

"What? How am I one of the strongest people you know?"

"Raising your brother like you are? Being in the amount of extracurriculars you are? Roman, you work a part-time job as an independent contractor in college. Do you know how many people wish that would be their first job after college? I know the website you write for fucking loves you, the coach of the school's team fucking loves you, and your professors think you're hot shit."

"No, they don't."

"Yeah, they do. Bud, from what it sounds like, you're a hop, skip, and a jump away from TA-ing about half of your literature classes and I know your theatre professor wants to steal you away and make you a full-time theatre major. And your academic advisor just went to the Dean to go to bat for you."

"My math professor doesn't like me."

"From what it sounds like, he doesn't like anybody."

"There's at least one person he likes."

"You're not gonna get everyone, Princey, you know that. I mean, hey, most of the people that come in here think I'm pretty great—"

"That's 'cause you are."

Don't fucking say shit like that, Princey, you'll make me blush— "but then there's that tiny percentage that think I'm poisoning their drinks with my queerness, you feel?"

In hindsight, he could've timed that better so as not to say it when Roman's taking another sip of his water. He pats his back apologetically as Roman coughs, shooting him a mock look of betrayal that's undercut by the grin he can see taking shape under there.

"The point I was trying to make," he says once Roman's got control of his lungs back, "is that you're not alone in this. I'm sure you're not the only student who's gonna be fucked over by this and you've got friends. I know for sure your professors would be willing to fight for you and you've got friends. Right? You got me."

"I know I do."

Fuck. Shit. Abort mission. He's too cute. He's too cute and too earnest and he's looking at me like that. Shit. Fuck. Why is he so cute?

"Thank you, Virgil," Roman says softly, apparently oblivious to the havoc he's wreaking on Virgil's insides, "that means a lot. You're right, I know it's probably gonna be okay, I just…you know, it can be overwhelming."

You're telling me. "Yeah, I get that. It's okay to be overwhelmed, Princey, just take a sec before you start bouncing off walls."

Roman chuckles. "Sure."

"Can I ask…?"

"Yeah?"

Virgil nods to the piece of paper. "What's that?"

"Oh. The, uh, they're the new requirements and the scholarship caps." He unfolds it. "See? They're not gonna give out these ones anymore and you need to have these grades just to make it by. The—well. I won't go on and on. I've taken you away from the front for too long."

Virgil hits his arm affectionately. "You're a delight, is what you are, so you explain all you want."

"But the others—"

Stop being so adorably considerate or I'll have to kiss you about it. "Deal: we go back out to the front, you let me make you your ungodly amount of sugar while you explain this to me, and then you drink it and chill for five minutes before you go dash off again."

"Are you gonna refund it again?"

"No." Virgil smirks as he gets up. "I'm not even gonna charge you for it."

"Virgil, you could get in trouble for—"

"For buying a cute boy a drink? Not on my boss's life." He winks and wiggles his fingers as Roman splutters. "C'mon, Princey, what were you saying about the scholarships?"

Roman narrows his eyes at him but takes his hand, letting Virgil pull him up as they leave the back room. Virgil pats the counter right next to where the drinks station is, waiting for Roman to come over and stand before getting back to work.

"So the new grade requirements actually aren't that different from what you need to be on the team or in the theatre department, so it shouldn't be that much harder to keep them up, but that does mean that there's no longer that safety net, you know? 'Cause if my grades start slipping I could drop the team or the acting and then just focus on school, but now it's kind of an all-or-nothing situation and—I dunno. It makes it more stressful."

"Well, yeah, that makes sense. Mocha syrup?"

"Uh, sure."

"Is it at all a relief that you just have to keep your grades where they are right now? You don't suddenly have to aim for a whole grade higher?"

"A bit? I don't know, it's—it's really annoying that they've decided to do this this year, 'cause now I'm kinda stuck. Not that I could really afford to apply to a different school and move and everything anyway, but…still. Sucks."

"I bet. How much ice?"

"That's good. The good thing is that when I talked it over with my advisor, I asked if we could push for having this apply to incoming students instead of the ones that are already here and she said that might work, so…that's what I'm hoping for."

"Reasonable. And yeah, I know the Board's made individual exceptions in the past, if you make your case you could be one of them."

"But then that's not fair to everyone else who's gonna get screwed over by this."

"They can go in front of the Board too, I'm sure. And it might be the case of if the Board sees how many students they're actually going to be affecting—and good students at that, maybe they'll think twice about being—what did you call it? 'Jackwagons?'"

Roman snorts. "Yeah. Jackwagons."

"Maybe they'll think twice about being absolute motherfuckers."

He grins when Roman doubles over laughing, putting the lid on and sliding his drink over with a flourish. Then he has to just take a moment to bask in the glory that is Roman laughing, his chin on his hands as he feels himself smiling too.

"Thank you, Virgil," Roman manages when he gets himself together, "I really, really appreciate this. I can pay you back—"

"No, you cannot. Ah—" he holds up his finger when Roman goes to protest—"none of that. You don't owe me anything. You're my friend, I'm happy to do stuff for you."

"You sure?"

"Well, if you really wanna pay me back, you can let me take you out to dinner."

A little blush forms on the top of Roman's cheeks—criminally adorable, this man—and he shakes his head. "You know, you're not the only person who's asked me that recently."

"Of course I'm not, you're too cute for that."

"Virgil!"

"Answer me this, though." He leans over the counter. "Any of these people know your favorite drink by heart?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Just a little something to keep in mind."

"You're the worst."

"Mhm. You gonna do something about it?"

"Is that a thinly-veiled 'are you saying yes?'"

"Maybe."

Roman sighs. "Could we do a lunch instead? Remus needs to be home and studying for his test and I don't wanna leave him all by himself if he needs support."

"Yeah, of course. We can even do that sandwich shop around the corner that does the free half-sandwich if you buy two."

"Deal."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @ultrageekygirl  

#dragonbabbles #roman sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #prinxiety #fic

[ctrl-alt-em]

Horse theft is a crime, Delacy

The sun was just barely starting to raise when Silas was woken up by Delacy stumbling around as he pulled his boot on.

“What are you doing this early, kid?” he asked as he rubbed the crick in his neck.

Delacy looked at the window. “It’s not early. It’s morning.” He put on his hat. “I’m heading to the stables.”

Silas groaned and got out of bed. “Why are you going to the stables?”

Delacy smiled. “I’m going to get Humble Ned ready and bring him to the station.”

Silas raised an eyebrow, “Humble Ned, a horse, is going to get on a passenger train with us?”

Delacy nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I saw Arlo, the train ticket man, last night after me and Garnet left the doctor’s office. He said that a lot of the trains have horse cars so I’m gonna buy him a ticket.” He pulled a crinkled advertisement from one of his pockets. Across the top it read ‘KEYSTONE PALACE HORSE CAR COMPANY’, in the middle was a drawing of a livestock car with a clerestory roof and a horse being loaded onto it, and in smaller print at the bottom ‘5 cents per mile per horse. Limited to 12 horses per car. Number of cars varied by train. Feed can be provided by owner prior to departure or purchased from car supplies.’

“Uh huh, so you’re actually planning on taking the horse with you?”

Delacy tilted his head. “‘Course, he’s coming. Why would I leave him here?”

Silas dragged his hand over his face. “Because you never actually paid for the horse and you didn’t win that bet neither. You just shot the man in the leg. The only reason you haven’t been hanged for horse theft is the lack of a sheriff or marshall in town.”

“If there’s no sheriff or marshall to stop me, why can’t I take Humble Ned with me?”

Silas gave the boy a stern look. “Because theiving is a crime and I’m not gonna be traveling with a kid that thinks shooting people will get him whatever he wants. If someone stole your gun from you and said there wasn’t anyone here to enforce the law so why not take it, would you be fine with that?”

Delacy glared at the floor and pouted, “No one better try to steal Rooster.”

“And you shouldn’t steal Humble Ned. Hell, you got a fortune on you now. We’ll head over there and you can pay him $200. Tell him you got the money plus some now that your job is done.”

Delacy gasped, “But he said the horse was $150! Why the hell would I give him $200?!”

“You shot him in the leg, Delacy,” answered Silas, “There’s not a lot of men who will let that slide just because you're a kid. Paying him off is the easiest way to make sure he keeps quiet and doesn’t decide to cause trouble for you or us later on.”

Delacy thought about it for a moment. “Why can I just shoot him dead then?”

Silas rolled his eyes upwards. “That’s murder and will also get you hanged.”

“We killed those other guys for money,” said Delacy, “How’s that different from killing the stable owner for Humble Ned.”

Silas was ready to go back to bed and the sun wasn’t even fully up. He took a deep breath. “Those were bad people who liked hurting good people. No Deposit Bill is an honest man trying to make a living. The only thing you think he’s done wrong is have something you want. Understand?”

Delacy crossed his arms. “What if he’s not an honest man? What if he’s done bad things we just don’t know about?”

“You can’t shoot a man for something you don’t know. Maybe he is a serial killer, maybe he’s a saint. Unless you have some proof of his wrongdoing, then that’s not justice. It’s just killing for the thrill of it.”

“I guess,” he said with a pout.

Silas shrugged. That’s probably as far as he’s gonna get with Delacy today. “Good, then let’s head over to the stables and see if Bill’s around so you can make things right.”

Delacy scrapped his boot on the floor. “Okay,” he muttered and followed Silas.

The two told Nate where they were going and headed out. The town was as quiet as ever. The sun was starting to rise and the night chill was slowly lessening.

No Deposit Bill was in the corral, putting out a bail of hay as the two walked up to the fence. Silas tilted his hat so he couldn’t see the horses inside the corral.

“Mornin’,” Silas called out. “We have some business if you free.”

The man looked up, caught sight of Delacy, and immediately started limping towards the stable as quickly as he could.

“Goddammit, man, get back here. The boy is here to pay you, not shoot you!”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that again!” He yelled back.

“It’s true! I’ll hold his gun if you just come over here!” yelled Silas. “We don’t have time for this nonsense.”

“You didn’t say anything about…” started Delacy. Silas quickly slapped his hand over his mouth.

“Behave, Delacy, or that horse stays here.”

Delacy scowled but stopped struggling.

The stable owner had stopped. He eyed the two uneasily. “Alright. Take his gun then and back up.”

Silas held out his hand. “Delacy.”

The boy begrungently unholstered his gun and handed it to Silas.

The stable owner watched closely. He took a few steps forward. “What is it you want, boy? Come to ruin my other leg?”

“I thought about it but Silas said that was wrong,” Delacy said with a shrug. “He says I have to pay you for Humble Ned and your leg. So here.” Delacy rifled through his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills.

Bill walked up slowly, looking between Delacy and Silas for any signs of movement. He stanched the bills from Delacy’s hand and back up. His eyes widened. “Do you know how much this is, kid?”

Delacy shuffled his boots in the dirt and shoved his hands in his pockets. “200 dollars. Silas helped me count it.”

“It’s 150 for the horse and 50 for you not to go saying there was any ‘miscommunication’ between you two initially,” explained Silas a nod, his spare hand resting his own gun. “Should be more than enough for your troubles.”

Bill looked between Silas, Delacy, and the small fortune in his hand. “Are you folks leaving town today?” he asked Silas.

Silas nodded, “First train this morning.”

Bill shoved the money in his pocket. “Take the damn horse and get out of here. As long as I don’t see the boy again, I’ll consider us even.”

Delacy took off running towards the stable.

Silas nodded at the man. “Much obliged.”

Bill turned away with a dismissive wave and a grunt.

Silas waited across the street from the stables. Delacy walked out leading Humble Ned who had a bridle and saddle on him

Silas raised an eyebrow, “Please tell me you bought that saddle.”

“Victoria let me have it from her stable.” Delacy frowned and wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have to pay her for it, do I? She said I could keep it and then she tried to kill us.” Beneath Delacy’s shirt, the top of his bandages could be seen.

“Nah, if anything we should have taken more,” answered Silas, patting the boy on the back.

Silas stood on the opposite side of Delacy from Humble Ned and tilted hat to block his view again. He was willing to tolerate the beast but that didn’t mean he liked him.

Delacy led Humble Ned and Silas to the train station to wait for the others to join them. The clock above them showed 8:00. “Delacy, why don’t you hitch up Humble Ned and go buy our tickets?”

Delacy smiled and nodded. He took his horse to a hitching post.

Silas collapsed on the bench and lowered his hat over his eyes. After a while, he noticed Delacy wasn’t back yet.

Putting his hat back on right, he glanced around for the blond boy. Over by Humble Ned, Delacy had started braiding the horse’s mane.

“Delacy, what are you doing?”

“Braiding his mane,” he answered without looking away.

Silas raised an eyebrow. “I see that. What I meant is, why?”

“I want Humble Ned to look good for his first train ride,” Delacy said, moving on to the next lock of hair.

Despite himself, Silas couldn’t help but grin. He relaxed back on the bench, listening to Delacy tell his horse about another horse named Buckthorn.

#oxventure deadlands #oxventure #delacy oxventure #silas flint

[angstflavoured]

After reading your response to a previous ask, I thought I'd give my two cents on that topic:

I LOVE the diverse interpretations of the canon robot characters within the Portal fandom - not just design-wise, but also in terms of their personality.

While I personally don't mind more comical character interpretations of these characters (and at times, those ones can be pretty memorable and entertaining), I also enjoy interpretations that are more complex and grounded in the 'experiences and struggles of being human'.

As in, interpreting characters who seem to be grounded in reality. Characters who may feel like people that are capable of flaws, capable of struggles, and capable of growth.

I sincerely hope this wording made sense, since I have a habit of rambling.

(Note: For anyone else reading this, please know that I'm NOT saying that one kind of interpretation is better than the other. Plus, you can also have an interpretation that exists in between the comical and the more grounded interpretations.)

AWH WELL THANK YOU !!! Ik the fandom is small for this kind of portal content, but I'm glad that its reaching a few people who are seeing my vision for what I want it to be :) I absolutely love fleshing out characters in the real world like this and making them more like actual people, so I'm glad thats coming across well 👹👹

#talkbox

[mariacallous]

I have found myself thinking about Michael Gove more and more recently. Not just because of his profile this week over the new definition of extremism, but because I think he - in his own way - is the author of a lot of what has become the extremism of the Tory Party.

That sentence won’t go down well in many quarters. Gove does not come across as a radical at all. By all accounts (I have never met him and the only thing we have in common is our ability to perform all the words of 80s banger Wham Rap) he is incredibly charming. Some say smarmy, but most say charming - and by most I mean people across the political and media spectrum. His reputation for politeness is pretty legendary.

He is also a fantastic media performer. Partly that is to do with the above charm. He’s self-deprecating and also seems thoughtful. When asked a question, his body language makes you think he’s considering the answer, and the right thing to do, very carefully. His head cocks slightly, his lips purse (more) and his shoulders open up as if to indicate he has nothing to hide or defend. Whatever answer he gives, that impression is at the core of his presentation.

He also has a reputation for competence in government that is rare among still-active Conservatives. When he was at Defra, many environmentalists found him more open and easier to work with than pretty much anyone else who has had that brief. He hasn’t got a lot through that housing campaigners would like, but it isn’t for the lack of visibly trying.

He also instituted a revolution in education that is underestimated by most in the impact it will continue to have on this country long after he has left office. For example, I still hear a great deal of wrangling about the National Curriculum. Many Labour education pledges reference it. But, here’s the thing: Gove’s reforms have quietly and without telling anyone basically abolished the National Curriculum in all but name. Because Academies don’t have to follow the National Curriculum and at present around three-quarters of schools are academies. Even though the plan to force all schools to academies by 2030 has been dropped, this trajectory is likely to continue (and unlikely to be reversed at least in the first term of a Labour government). Anything that does not affect over 70 per cent of schools does not deserve the title “national” anything.

Two notable things happened during Gove’s time as Education Secretary beyond the policy that, I think, illustrate the point I am trying to make here. Firstly, he hired Dominic Cummings as his special advisor and secondly, he was described by David Cameron (somewhat fondly at the time, though I would be fascinated to know if post-2016 thought it quite so amusing) as a “Maoist” who like Cummings “believes that the world makes progress through the process of creative destruction”.

Now look again at the record of this mild-mannered, Wham-rapping, Aberdeen-dancing politician.

Gove publicly and loudly backed Brexit breaking a long friendship with Cameron to do so. He then agreed to head up Johnson’s campaign team for the leadership in 2016 only to run himself at the last minute torpedoing Boris’s chances. He was in May’s cabinet at the end, but also on telly calling her planned Brexit vote offering a temporary Customs Union and a vote on a referendum unworkable (to be fair, it was). He again served in Johnson’s cabinet - having apparently changed his mind about his unsuitability for the post (and to be fair, Johnson certainly delivered his fair share of creative destruction) - and as all around him were resigning, Gove was, hilariously, sacked by Johnson. Then who can forget the Laura Kuenssberg interview with Liz Truss and Gove responding where he - just feet away from the then PM called her plans profoundly concerning and unconservative. She didn’t last much longer.

Gove does serve in government now, but whenever plotting is mentioned - evil or otherwise - his name is never very far from the frame. Of course, plotting in politics is as natural as breathing. But plotting for the sake of it is a different matter. I think Gove enjoys the chaos of the game more than the outcomes.

Michael Gove gives off all the vibes of the Cameron-era type of Tory politician. And let’s be fair, that was when he made his most destructive changes to the education system as he abolished things that might have come in handy, such as a massive school repairs programme.

And maybe that’s fair. Because that government was slick and went on a media charm offensive that vastly belied its destructive instincts. The behaviour of Johnson and the insanity of Truss may lead us to forget that the underlying reasons why the country is in the mess we are is down to the economic policies of the Cameron and Osborne government.

Michael Gove has been the great survivor of the Tory years. At the heart of so many plots one loses count, yet endlessly returning to serve semi-loyally at the heart of government. He may charm the press. He may come across as a decent bloke. But his record of destruction and chaos is one we all suffer from. We may enjoy it when his dagger is turned towards his colleagues, but don’t forget for one minute that his destructive instinct is one that could take us all down if we let ourselves be charmed into thinking of him as the acceptable and moderate face of the Tory party. He is anything but.