#im in the living room painting a little jacket and every time i leave the room my roommates cat

[iguanamouth]

a flats commission! a toad for ian for their dnd campaign, a real rough and tumble guy named b’Lip, watch out for that hammer !!! i still like the other rough composition that wasnt chosen, this toads got a different energy but still a good toad i think! maybe theyre long lost siblings

#two toads for the price of one #im in the living room painting a little jacket and every time i leave the room my roommates cat #kitty kitty meow meow #comes and sits on it and looks me dead in the eye #THANKFULLY missing the part ive painting like they know exactly what theyre doing #coms #serious #honk honk i do appreciate people that tell me if i reblog from someone unsavory #turns into a big wizard that says IM TRANS on my robes and shoots lightning

[toplinetommy]

Kill My Lonely Nights - Tyson Jost

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

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

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

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

words: 20k+

warnings: alcohol, smut, unprotected sex​

“Tyson, you know my neighbor right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You liked the squash, eh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think JT’s looking for you.”

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

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

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

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

“Does JT know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I talked to my mom this morning.”

“Yeah? How is she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is there to talk about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long has this been going on for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He literally tripped me in practice today!”

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

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

“But,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we talk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plus One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home For Traumatized Kids - Chapter Four

Self Care Day

Chapter Summary: Roman finally relaxes, and Virgil attempts to help.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety, panic, mentions of past trauma and abuse, very minor self-injury (rubbing a little too hard with a loofah), food, and swearing

Chapter Word Count: 6,174

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258, @eternalmoonlight19, @remy-the-lemon-berry, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @mariniacipher, @bigwendymonster, @nonbinary-octopus

Notes: Thank you to Cornybird on Ao3 for betareading the chapter! You’re amazing and I appreciate you <3

It was one in the morning, and Roman was next to his bed pacing in circles so fast he was getting dizzy. It was officially the weekend and he was supposed to relax, but instead his mind was rushing a mile a minute and tormenting him. He was restless and exhausted, anxious and on the brink of tears, and Roman didn’t know what to do. He just wanted it to stop.

His head was spinning from all the pacing, so Roman sat on the foot of his bed and aggressively bounced his leg instead. He felt out of control, like danger was all around him and there was nothing to stop it. He felt like his heart was in his throat, sweat dripping down his face and making it hard to breathe. Roman gripped at his hair with both hands, physically recoiling at the feeling of grease and grime and-

…Oh. Wait. It made sense now. Roman hadn’t showered in a week.

He let out a deep breath, calming a little after finding a solution to his problem. He should’ve guessed, feeling dirty always made him anxious and stressed. He hadn’t had the energy to shower, but he was at a point where he had to force himself. If he didn’t, Roman would collapse from the stress.

He picked up his phone to look at the time again. 1:28 am, possibly the worst timing to sneak into the bathroom and try to shower without waking the house up. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He was exhausted and his brain was rushing through hundreds of thoughts. He needed some hot water to calm down.

Roman took the security bar off his door and slowly stepped into the hallway. He didn’t bother grabbing clothes to change into; his pajamas were clean and he could slip back into them after drying himself off well enough. He carefully turned the knob of the bathroom and snuck himself in.

It was very quiet in the house so early in the morning. Usually when Roman was in the bathroom, he could hear the TV downstairs or people talking outside the door, but now the only noise was the sound of his breathing and a slight buzz from the bathroom light. Roman stepped on the toilet to check for cameras inside of a vent high on the wall. Frustratingly, he found nothing. Patton’s camera-hiding ability was getting very annoying.

Regardless, he checked in the drawers and around the walls as well, flipping over shampoo bottles and toothbrushes just in case. He didn’t find anything, and Roman wanted to yell. Instead, he settled for clenching his fists and trying to move on with his task.

Fortunately, the shower had an opaque curtain that could make it harder for a camera to see, and Roman felt satisfied with that. Once he figured out how the shower worked and memorized where things were placed, Roman could also go back to showering in the dark again. He’d manage.

Roman wrapped himself in a towel in order to take his clothes off, folding them neatly on the toilet so that any water falling on the ground wouldn’t drench them. He skipped turning on the vent fan so he’d be quieter, stepping into the shower and tossing the towel outside the curtain on the floor for later. His legs clamped together subconsciously as he turned on the water.

Roman felt his shoulders relax a little when the hot water hit him. It helped the grease on his face and hair feel less gross, but the heat was also relaxing. He hugged himself and let the water fall down his face for a while.

…This is weird, Roman eventually thought, interrupting the rare silence in his head. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since he left the hospital. He thought after the trial that he’d be living on cloud nine for the rest of eternity, but the opposite was happening. His past and current situation was hitting him like a brick, filling him with constant anxiety and paranoia over the smallest things. It was getting unbearable.

Roman grabbed a shampoo bottle and squirted some out, slowly rubbing it into his hair and sighing. He was probably so on edge because he still hadn’t figured out Patton’s patterns. With his dad, Roman had lived with him for so long, he could guess his feelings by just a ten second conversation. He had detailed methods to work around him, how to sneak out of the house without getting noticed by cameras and how to delay the inevitable. But Roman didn’t know what Patton was thinking, what he even really wanted. Whatever it was certainly couldn’t be good, but at least if Roman knew, he could work around it. But here, there was no such luxury.

He stood back under the shower stream and felt the grease get cleaned out of his hair. Roman needed to change that uncertain feeling as soon as possible. He probably wasn’t going to sleep tonight anyway, so he could use this time to sneak around the house and at least find a hiding spot. At Roman’s old house, he had a little nook in a broken cabinet downstairs that his dad never opened, and he never found out where Roman’s hiding spot was. Patton didn’t have a basement, but maybe he had some place Roman could fit where Patton couldn't find him. It’d help him feel better if he found somewhere.

Roman ran his hands through his hair to check for extra suds and considered his hair clean now. Thank the heavens, there was nothing worse than feeling gross and exposed. Roman grabbed a bottle of body wash to clean the rest of himself next.

This was the tricky part. Roman had a habit of scrubbing too hard, and his aunt had a very long talk with him last time he came out of the shower redder than a lobster. He didn’t want Patton asking questions, so he had to watch himself. He couldn’t afford a spiral.

He poured some of the body wash on a loofah and tried to gently scrub. He didn’t realize how gross he felt, no wonder he was having panic attacks left and right. He was covered in grease and sweat and dirt that wasn’t even being rinsed, and Roman was getting more grossed out at the thought the more he realized. He really needed to start showering daily again, his hair was so thick and oily and teenager sweat stink smelled so bad, he couldn’t afford to miss a day-

…Shit, fuck, hang on, Roman thought, pulling away the loofah from his leg to observe the damage. He’d only realized what he was doing when he started to feel a stinging burn, looking away to see pink skin. Thankfully, he’d caught himself early enough where he’d be alright. He scooped some suds from the loofah onto his hand and gently rubbed the rest of the area so it wouldn’t be irritated, careful to focus on his movements from then on so it wouldn’t happen again.

He eventually finished without any further issues, rinsing off his body and turning off the shower. Roman dried most of himself as he stood in the shower, grabbing the towel off the floor and aggressively drying his hair with it. Usually he’d dry his hair with a hair dryer, but that would be too loud, so he settled with having a fluffy dog on his head for the night. Once he was dry enough, he grabbed his boxers and shirt to put on in the shower before stepping out to put back on his sweatpants. Despite the steam in the bathroom making it hard to breathe, Roman felt much better than before.

He turned off the light before he opened the bathroom door, stepping into the dark hallway wondering where to go. He still wasn’t tired, so he might as well look for that hiding spot. But where could he hide?

He slowly made his way downstairs, wincing every time a floorboard under him squeaked. The TV stand was an awful place since it was full of wires and CD cases, and behind the couch was far too obvious for a hiding spot. The entire kitchen was off limits since Patton spent most of his time there, he’d find Roman easily if he was hiding nearby. There was a small bathroom down here that barely fit a toilet and a sink, so maybe that could work?

Roman opened the bathroom door and looked inside, immediately becoming discouraged. There was no cabinet under the sink and everything was visible the moment you walked in, so that was a bust. He closed the door and looked around again.

The dining room off to the side of the kitchen was mostly bare, and hiding under the table wouldn’t work. Roman made a circle back to the stairs and looked around with his hands on his hips.

Suddenly, his eye was caught by a glass case display next to the stairs and it dawned on him. Underneath the stairs was a slight opening, but still too big to be a good hiding spot. But the display was pointed at a diagonal from the stairs, leaving a triangle opening that you couldn’t see by looking underneath the steps. Roman crawled under the stairs to see if he could fit in the hole.

It was a little cramped, but the cramped spots were always the best places. The only downside was that Roman was still visible from looking under the stairs, leaving his pants and shoes visible to anyone who could be looking for him. However, if he could get a box and paint it the same black color as the back of the glass display, he could rest on top of it and no one could see him. It could work!

Roman crawled out from the other end of the stairs and smiled. If he was quick and sneaky, he could hide under here and stay hidden for hours. Now he just needed a box he could paint black.

Roman opened the downstairs closet and looked inside, moving jackets and shoes around to look for what he needed. Nothing.

He walked into the kitchen to open the garage door and look inside, searching for any online shopping boxes Patton was planning to toss out. Nothing. Maybe he should sneak outside and check the recycling bin really quick-

“Roman?”

Roman froze like a deer in headlights at the sound of that voice. It was Patton, he didn’t need to look behind him to know that. To Patton, it must look like Roman was trying to sneak out through the garage door. He felt his breath stop.

“Roman, come back here. Right now.” Yeah, that was definitely what Patton thought was going on. His voice wasn’t angry, but it was firm and demanding, the voice a parent puts on when they refuse to be pushed around by you. If Roman didn’t think fast, he’d be fucked.

I can’t tell the truth, Roman thought. He can’t know I’m looking for hiding spots. But what can I do? Come on, Roman, make an idea! It’s the one thing you do so often!

…But there was that idea. An idea he used very rarely, but had yet to fail him.

Okay then, he decided, it’s go time. Lights, camera, action.

“Roman, I’m not joking. Come here.”

Roman deliberately ignored him, instead slowly closing the garage door and fumbling with the knob like he was stuck in a task. He kept his movements delayed and repetitive, just like people always told him he acted like in the stories.

Patton hesitated, like Roman’s reaction had confused him. “Roman, now.”

“Wait, wait, wait a minute.” Roman mumbled. “It’s gotta break.”

“…What’s gotta break?”

Roman opened the door and stood there looking out at the garage. He didn’t respond to Patton’s question, instead he stood there without moving. He heard Patton step closer.

“Roman?” He asked, his voice becoming softer as he realized what was happening. “Are you awake?”

“That’s a lot off.”

Roman could see Patton smile in the corner of his eye. His plan was a success. “I think you need to go to bed, kiddo. You can break things tomorrow.”

Patton took a hold of Roman’s hand, a grip that was so gentle it was less of a grip and more of Patton holding the tips of his fingers. Roman tensed his toes to prevent himself from jerking away from the touch, letting Patton lead him back up the stairs and to his bedroom. Patton went slowly so as to not lose Roman behind him, but he eventually led Roman back to bed while Roman kept up his sleepwalking ruse. It was a trick that always worked on his dad late at night, and it was good to know it worked on Patton too.

Patton brought Roman’s hand to touch the sheets on his own bed, and Roman reacted by slowly crawling back into bed and relaxing. He felt Patton cover him up with the blanket and tried not to squirm away from him.

“Goodnight, sleepy prince.” Patton whispered. Roman heard his footsteps head toward the door before his door slowly clicked closed, leaving Roman back in his room.

Roman waited until the coast was completely clear to jump back up and put the security bar under his door knob again. He was officially stuck in his room for the rest of the night, but at least he felt more in control now. Maybe he could try to sleep now.

Roman shoved his face in his pillow and tried to drift off, breathing deeply to keep his mind from spiraling again.

Yeah. After all he’d been through recently, tomorrow had to be a relaxation day.

***

“So…” Patton said to Roman with a smirk, handing him a plate with pancakes and blueberries during breakfast that morning. “Roman, I didn’t know you were a sleepwalker.”

Virgil and Logan both looked at Roman for his response. Roman feigned surprise. “…How’d you find out?”

“Last night I caught you walking around the house. I also heard the shower running for a while. Strange thing to wake up to!”

Crap, Roman thought, gonna have to remember that for next time. “Well, yes, I sleepwalk when I’m stressed. So, quite often.”

Patton’s smile seemed to drop a little. “Do you always try to sneak out of the house?”

“Sometimes. It’s not very often, though.” That’s what Roman always told adults. In reality, Roman had never heard a sleepwalking story of him trying to sneak out other than the times he was faking it after being caught. He didn’t even think Sleepwalking Roman had figured out how to take the security bar off the door yet, let alone try to walk into the street. But adults didn't need to know that. It was more convenient that way.

“Well, I might have to see about getting some sleepwalk-Roman-proof locks on the door, then. I don’t want you walking into oncoming traffic or something.”

Roman shrugged, taking a bite of his pancakes. “You can try. Can’t guarantee it’ll work, though.”

“Why do you sleepwalk?” Logan asked, leaning in closer to where Roman was sitting. “Do you know?”

“It ran in my family.”

Logan’s eyes lit up. “That’s quite interesting. I don’t know much about the science behind sleepwalking, but perhaps it’d be an interesting topic to research on. Brain functions during sleep can be quite bizarre.”

“You have fun with that, John Darling.” Roman finished the last bite from his pancake and stood up. “However, I have a nice date with the living room TV, so I’ll be busy.”

“…You consider that being busy?” Logan teased.

“Yes. Disney marathons are self care, and you can’t complain because I haven’t had the TV at all since I got here.”

“You do gotta share sometimes, Logan.” Patton mentioned.

Logan huffed. “Fine.”

Virgil stood up from the table to put his dishes away, placing his cup on top of his plate and balancing it. “He’s a little TV hog, some of us also wanna play games, dude.”

“All you have to do is ask!”

“And face confrontation? No way am I- fuck!”

Everyone jumped at Virgil’s sudden loud swear followed by the loud bang of a cup hitting the floor. Virgil’s balancing act showed to be a failure, with orange juice spilt all over the kitchen floor. Virgil stood deathly still and stared at the mess in horror, practically shaking with his knuckles turning white as he clenched at the plate in his hand. Roman cringed, subconsciously scooting as far back in his chair as possible and tensing. All the kids were silent. Virgil looked ready to cry.

“Oops!” Patton’s cheery voice is what broke the tense silence, crouching down at the mess and picking up the dropped cup. He looked it over. “Well, thankfully this cup isn’t glass, so it’s not broken! I’ll put it in the dishwasher and it’ll be okay, an easy fix. Could you get some paper towels and clean this up, kiddo?”

Virgil still seemed shaken, digging his nails into the metal plate and nodding. He slowly moved to grab the paper towels on the counter and drop them to the floor to dry the mess. Logan didn’t seem bothered anymore, but Roman felt himself prepare to book it upstairs in case things went south. But Patton didn’t scream or throw a fit, just put the cup in the dishwasher and stepped back to let Virgil do his thing.

Once Virgil wiped up the mess, he set his plate in the dishwasher and ran upstairs. Roman and Logan both watched helplessly, but Patton just smiled to himself. “I’ll check on him in a second. I think he just needs space now.”

Roman tensed at the idea of Patton checking on Virgil on his own, still not certain what he did to them behind closed doors. Roman put his own dishes away and ran upstairs to his bedroom. He closed the door and locked it like usual, but he didn’t put the security bar under the knob. Instead, he sat against the door and listened for the sound of Patton’s footsteps.

Eventually, the footsteps did come. Roman heard him knock on Virgil’s door and announce himself, asking if he could come in before the door opened. He heard the door softly close again, and that’s when Roman took his chance. He snuck out of his room and crept his way to the door to listen to what was going on. If Virgil was in pain, he could at least hear it.

“-Mad?” Virgil asked, his voice sounding higher and shaky. Roman clenched his fist in preparation.

“Of course not, kiddo,” He heard Patton say, “I’d never be mad at you. It was just a little cup, and everything’s okay.”

“…Sorry I swore, too.”

Patton laughed. “It’s okay. Sometimes it slips out, just don’t make it a habit.” There was a pause for a long moment. Roman felt something ride in his throat when he heard the bed creak a little. “Can I have a hug?”

Roman didn’t hear a verbal response, but Patton didn’t get angry afterwards, so he assumed that Virgil agreed. The bed creaked a little more, but it was silent. Way too silent, and that creaking was making Roman’s skin crawl. He didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust it at all.

Despite his better judgment, Roman swung the door open to catch him. He was breathing heavily and staring daggers, ready to throw a man twice his age across the room, but Roman froze when he processed the reality. Instead of whatever Roman was expecting to find, Patton had Virgil wrapped up in a tight hug as Virgil looked spooked from the sudden intrusion. Roman just stared, wishing more than anything now that he could reverse time. Oops, too soon.

“…Kiddo,” Patton eventually said in a confused tone, “You gotta knock before you enter.”

“…Yeah.” This didn’t make any sense. His dad had never gone this long being nice, so how hadn’t he caught Patton yet? What was he doing differently that made Roman not notice?

Patton rubbed Virgil’s back to help him ease up again. “How about you close the door and give us some privacy, then?”

“…No.” It was a trap. Roman was convinced it was a trap, and he refused to fall for it. He wouldn’t leave Virgil alone with him.

Patton seemed confused. “Why no?”

Roman was shaking. “Because.”

“Roman, I can only help if you tell me why you don’t wanna leave.” Patton’s face was still soft, rubbing Virgil’s back and letting him hide in the crook of Patton’s neck. If he was angry, he wasn’t showing it. “Can you tell me more than because?”

“Because.” Roman kept his voice sharp, remembering Patton’s ‘no yelling’ rule and trying not to push his boundaries more. But there was no way he was telling Patton his plans if he still hadn’t picked up on it.

Instead of exploding at Roman for being a brat, Patton seemed to focus intently and consider his options. Eventually, his eyes widened, and he smiled softly again at Roman. “What if you gave Virgil and I some space, but kept the door open? Would that be easier?”

Roman’s chest felt strange. Heavy, but like electricity was running through him around his heart. “Why do you want space so bad?”

“Because Virgil deserves privacy when he wants it, just like everybody does. Right?”

Roman looked at Virgil, who was peeking out from his hiding spot in Patton’s neck. He looked tired, but that wasn’t the only thing Roman noticed. He looked… Annoyed. Staring right at Roman with a death glare saying do you mind?, and Roman’s heart sank. Fuck.

Without saying a word, Roman ran off with the door still open and locked himself in the bathroom. He sat on the floor and put his head in his hands, still listening carefully for any concerning noises that might come from Virgil’s room, but he knew it was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

What the hell was wrong with him recently? He told himself last night he was going to spend today relaxing, instead he was freaking out and speeding up the process until Patton realized Roman knew what he was doing. Maybe that’s why Virgil seemed mad at him. He’s being an idiot and speeding up the inevitable for everyone, taking away the points of ignorant bliss between the horror. Roman should understand that. He was also guilty of wanting to pretend his dad loved him, and he was being a prick. He was going to get everyone in trouble if he kept this up.

Roman went limp on the floor, leaning his head against the door and sighing. He needed to leave them alone for a second and stop freaking out over everything. It seemed like Patton was in a good mood since Roman came along, it’d be bad news to ruin that. He wasn’t going to be the reason Virgil got hurt.

Roman shakily stood up off the bathroom floor and left, making his way downstairs to the TV. Logan still hadn’t turned it on, so he took this as his chance to claim it. He sat on the couch with his knees tucked close and pulled up a streaming service to look for some Disney movies, his eyes lighting up when he found one of his favorites as he switched the language to French and hit play.

He used to watch Beauty and the Beast all the time as a kid. It took place in France, so his mom would always say the movie should be played in French too, and Roman agreed. Now the English version sounded too weird for him to enjoy it the same.

Roman curled into himself as the intro played, the familiar prologue story of the beast’s curse that Roman could recite from memory by now. He slowly moved to rest his head on the couch’s armrest with his arms still wrapped around his own legs, keeping him tightly curled up. Maybe later he could make himself some tea, too.

Roman got through a good portion of the movie without interruptions, up to the point where Belle first came into the castle. Then, Virgil suddenly stood in front of the TV with his arms crossed.

Roman grabbed the remote to pause the movie, taking a moment to respond as his brain tried to remember English again. “What?”

“First off, why are you watching Disney in French?”

“I speak French, next question.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Come with me.”

Roman sat up and raised an eyebrow at Virgil. Virgil didn’t respond, just made his way up the stairs and expected Roman to follow. His curiosity got the better of him, so Roman did what he was told.

When he made his way up the stairs, Virgil was waiting in the doorframe of his bedroom. He motioned for Roman to follow him inside, so Roman did.

When Roman walked inside, Virgil moved to close the door behind them. “Don’t,” Roman warned.

Virgil gave him a look. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t close it. At least, not all the way.”

Virgil didn’t question further, just kept the door cracked open and wandered over to sit on his bed. Roman didn’t follow, just waited for Virgil to tell him what was happening.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Virgil said.

“I gathered.”

“Sleepwalker, huh?” Virgil teased. “That’s a load of shit.”

“I am a sleepwalker. It happens sometimes!”

“I was downstairs the same time you were, dude. You definitely weren’t fucking sleepwalking until Patton caught you.” Virgil smirked as Roman’s face dropped. “I’m impressed by the acting though, not gonna lie.”

Roman tried to think of a convincing lie, but he sighed and gave up, crossing his arms as he looked at the floor. “…Alright, it was an act. But I do sleepwalk. I just…wasn’t sleepwalking at that exact moment. But regardless, what were you doing awake? And why didn’t I see you?”

Virgil shrugged. “I’m a master at hiding. Every time you came around the corner, I just moved. I haven’t been caught by Patton in a long ass time.”

“Did you call me here just to boast then?”

“Nope.” Virgil popped the p, then smirked. “I called you here to teach you how to do the same.”

Roman seemed taken aback. “…Why?”

“You’re struggling a lot, I figured I might be able to put you out of your misery.”

“Wow, how kind.” Roman deadpanned. “I don’t need your help, for the record. I know I haven’t been in the system long, but this isn’t my first rodeo.”

Virgil sighed. “Look, I’m not good with emotional shit, we’ve been over this. But when Logan first came around, I had a lot of chances to help him out and I just didn’t, and it was a dick move that I regret now. I want to do different with you, so don’t think too deep into it and just accept it. Deal?”

“Um…alright?”

Virgil walked past Roman and opened his door all the way again, looking out into the hallway before speaking. “Alright, ready for lesson one?”

Roman thought about it. “…Answer something for me first.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you okay?”

Virgil made a face at him. “What do you mean?”

Roman could feel his chest aching. “You were alone with Patton.”

“Patton’s chill, dude. He hasn’t smacked me once in the two years I’ve been here, which I didn’t know was possible. He was just worried about me after my freak-out, but I’m good.”

“The bed was creaking.”

Virgil seemed confused. “Beds do that when you move on them. There might be a loose joint or something I gotta fix, though.”

Roman wasn’t convinced. “He didn’t do anything at all?”

“Patton’s never laid a hand on me.”

“…That’s not true.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“So that I won’t be scared so much.”

Virgil sighed and rubbed his palms into his eyes. “Whatever, believe what you want, you’ll get there eventually. You want my help or not?”

“…Yes.”

Virgil stepped out of the room and gestured for Roman to follow him, just going to the hallway in front of Roman’s room. Once Roman moved to stand in Virgil’s doorway, Virgil motioned for him to stop. Roman stayed right where he was.

“Alright, lesson one, making it downstairs without being a loud ass.” Virgil pressed his foot on a specific part of the carpet where the floorboard squeaked underneath. “The upstairs has a lot of squeaky floorboards, no clue why. But there’s a way to dodge it. When leaving my bedroom, you take one step, skip a step, take two steps, turn left, skip a step, take one step, go right, then just don’t step on the first step of the staircase at all, the whole thing squeaks. You can try it if you want.”

Roman’s curiosity got the better of him, so he did what Virgil suggested, keeping his steps close together so his heel was touching his toe and followed Virgil’s pattern. He skipped all the places Virgil told him to and made it to the stairs without squeaking the floor for the first time since he came here.

“I have a pattern for a trip to the bathroom and to the stairs. Our rooms are pretty close together, so your pattern probably wouldn’t be much different than mine.” Virgil put one foot forward and tested the floor methodically, seeing which areas squeaked and which ones didn’t. He slowly made his way to the stairs where he stopped on the second step, seemingly satisfied with himself. “Skip a step, take two steps, skip another one, turn right, skip a step, then one more step. Though your feet are bigger than mine, so your pattern might be different.”

“Awww, you’re a shorty.” Roman teased.

“Shut the fuck up.” Virgil deadpanned. “Okay, next lesson. Follow me.”

Roman followed Virgil down the stairs, noticing the way Virgil stepped down them. He stepped in specific areas on each step and skipped some entirely as he made his way downstairs, effectively making a lot less noise than Roman did just walking normally. Though, Virgil did say he’d been living here for two years, so it’d make sense that he knows all the tricks to get around Patton. Maybe him and this stormy night could be partners in crime.

Virgil motioned for Roman to follow him into the kitchen and around where the garage door was, pointing to a window once Roman caught up to him. “Lesson number two, this window is your best friend.”

“How so?” Roman asked.

“Well, first off, it’ll help you sneak out without getting caught like an idiot. You know, like last night.”

Roman put an offended hand to his chest. “I was not trying to sneak out!”

“What were you doing then?”

“I was looking for something, and no, you don’t get to know what.”

Virgil gave him a look. “Right. Well, for when you do sneak out, this exit is the way to go. Patton has security cameras pointed at the back, front, and garage doors of the house. This is the only window out of the sight of all of them. Then, you sneak your way around the side of the house and go on your merry way until sunrise.”

Roman crossed his arms at Virgil. “And how often do you use this?”

“Like, twice a week.”

“Twice a week!? Not even I sneak out that often!”

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t go far, usually just to the park down the road. I haven’t gotten kidnapped yet, so it’s whatever.”

“You scare me.”

“Good.” Virgil motioned for Roman to follow him again. “Back upstairs.”

Roman scoffed. “We were just there.”

“And we’re going back up there again.” Virgil smirked mercilessly and walked back to the staircase. Roman rolled his eyes, but he was enjoying Virgil’s tips too much to not follow him. He went up the stairs and met with Virgil next to the closet.

Virgil pointed to the closet door. “This thing right here? Lesson number three, this place is your best friend.”

“It already is my best friend. I use all the paints up there.”

“More than that.” Virgil opened the closet door and turned on the light, motioning for Roman to come inside with him. Roman wasn’t very inclined to because of the cramped space, but his curiosity was greater than his fear for once, so he stepped inside and closed the door behind them while Virgil turned on the light.

“The attic makes a great hiding spot. There’s a lot of drawers and small spaces up there where it’s easy to hide. Granted, it’s easy to tell when someone is up there because you can’t pull the stairs back up when you’re in the attic. But that’s where this comes in.” Virgil grabbed a rope off one of the closet shelves. “Tie it around the doorknob and tie the other end to the stairs. No one can open the door if you do that.”

“Sounds like a great way to give away where you’re hiding if no one can open the door.” Roman pointed out.

Virgil shrugged. “Patton doesn’t try very hard. He might test the handle, but he gives up if the door won’t open. He’ll ask you if you’re okay once you leave, though.”

Roman liked his hiding spot better. It was enough in the open that no one would check it, and there was no indication that Roman might be hiding behind the cabinet. This could be a good temporary spot, though. At least until he could get a black box that could support his weight.

Virgil pulled down the stairs to the attic, grabbing the rope and tying its ends to the stairs and doorknob like he described. He then went up into the attic as Roman followed behind. When Roman peeked his head up into the attic, Virgil was crouched beside a box full of Christmas decorations. Roman walked over to where he was.

“Lesson four, keep your mouth shut about this or else.” Virgil reached behind the box into the corner of the room and pulled out a smaller box that had been hidden behind it. When he opened the small one, he let Roman take a good look at what was inside. Granola bars, a container of salted peanuts, water bottles and chip bags. Roman grabbed a granola bar and a water bottle as he gave Virgil a questioning look.

“Having a spot with hidden food just makes me feel better.” Virgil explained. “I’ve never had to use it, Patton feeds us like he’s four grandmas fucking combined. But if you’re hiding up here and you get hungry, I stash it regularly.”

“Does Logan know about all this?” Roman asked, opening his water bottle to take a sip.

Virgil shook his head. “Like I said, I didn’t show Logan jack shit when he first came. And it’s too late now, and it’s not like Logan would ever use it anyway. Lucky son of a bitch never feels the need to hide.”

Roman laughed. “Lucky is one word for it.”

Virgil didn’t respond, just took the container of peanuts and hid the box back in it’s hiding spot. The two ate in silence for a while; a kind of silence that wasn’t awkward or tense, but wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Maybe because Virgil still felt like a stranger to him.

After a while of them both relaxing next to each other, Virgil finally spoke up. “Tell me your trauma and I’ll tell you mine.”

Roman raised an eyebrow at him, “And knowing your trauma benefits me how?”

“You feel a little less alone. Also solidarity and shit.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not spilling. Share whatever you want, but it won’t be reciprocated.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try.” Virgil ate a mouthful of peanuts. “I have a theory, you know. Less of a theory and more of the truth, but still. Patton purposely fosters abused kids.”

Roman snorted. “Sounds about right. Easy targets.”

“I think it’s more about him wanting to help us.”

“Believe whatever you want, Hot Topic.”

Virgil smirked. “Hot Topic?”

“Am I wrong?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but he still smiled a little. “Whatever.”

They didn’t talk much after that, only enjoying the silence together in their own world trapped away in the attic. It wasn’t exactly Roman’s plan, but he still felt safe. He sipped on his water and thought a lot about Virgil’s lessons, trying to ensure they were deep in his memory. But he didn’t need them now. Instead, he sat in the corner of the attic, comforted by the knowledge of the door being locked underneath them, with a silent acquaintance a good distance from him.

It wasn’t the self-care day Roman had planned, but he wasn’t complaining. It worked.

#ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #Prinxiety #foster au #platonic prinxiety #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #panic #past trauma #past abuse #food mention #food #swearing

[ndiecity]

i was talking to this girl over facebook who randomly messaged me about my dog being cute, we started chatting and got along fairly well. it turned out that she actually lives right up the street from me. we decided to hang out, i went to her house to smoke, and BOY let me tell you... firstly, the pictures of herself she sent me were edited so much that she looked nothing like them. filters are fine and all, but this was just absurd. she looked a little "big" from the photos she sent me, which im cool with, but i mean like.. she went from looking about 190lbs to about 270lbs. which in of itself isn't bad, i'm not here to body shame anyone, but it was jarring. the filter she used completely changed her jawline and facial structure to the point that when she answered the door i literally thought it was a different person who happened to be leaving the apartment building at the same time. since we had sorta discussed it, i brought over some dabs to share . when offered to her, she smoked it off of the back of a painted wooden candle lid, and tried to tell me that the melted paint was just residue from dabs. i did not partake. she only had ritz crackers to eat, tap water to drink, and a four foot tall pile of 2 liter pespi bottles in the corner of her living room. only had one cup for me to use and ate two rolls of ritz with out offering me any. when i eventually used her bathroom, her toilet had almost no water in it and was caked in shit, she had maybe 2 squares of toilet paper left, and no hand soap or towels. after i got back to the living room, she talked to me for 30 minutes about how st michael is her guardian angel and that she can see him following her around, and that he doesn't get along well with the ghost that lives on her stairs that wears a black leather jacket and chain smokes all day. i ended up cutting a conversation about how the earth is hollow, and thats where the REAL aliens are, short, and said i had to go. she apologized for not making the "first move", which was something we didn't even discuss. never messaged her again and then blocked her after she posted a status saying something along the lines of "why do men only ever want me for sex?!" i've never really been a "dude she totally catfished me" guy, but it was one of the craziest experiences i've ever had. im sorry this is so long. i haven't told anyone about it and i think about it every day.

god. okay

[sassyhobbits]

....tinder au??🥺 not to rush u ofc! but i’m having a rough time in school right now and an update would really make my week better🤍

you sent this ask at just the right time! i just finished it up! sorry for the lack of writing. school is also giving me a rough time rn as well! but!!! we will persevere!!!

also im a little buzzed so i hope this is coherent

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3

~~~

Rowan didn’t really enjoy dressing up, could go his entire life without attending another large, social gathering. And yet… he had let Aelin convince him to take her to a wedding.

He had forced himself into his nicest suit because Aelin told him to. He sensed that this was something he didn’t want to argue with her about, so he did it with minimal complaint. He figured that it wouldn’t be that bad in the grand scheme of things, and the open bar was certainly a perk.

Not to mention, Aedion would be there well. In fact, Rowan was on his way to his coworkers apartment where he would meet up with the rest of them before heading to the wedding. Apparently, Aedion got roped in as well. His and Aelin’s family were old friends with the groom’s family.

Rowan checked his watch as he climbed the stairs, ensuring he wasn’t late lest he give Aelin a reason to be cross with him. It seemed he was making good time.

Rowan knocked politely, the door swinging open quickly and revealing a surprisingly well-dressed Aedion, who was nursing a bottle of beer.

“Hey man,” he said, clasping forearms with Rowan. “How’re you doing? You want a beer?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Rowan stepped into the apartment, lingering in the living room as Aedion slipped into the kitchen. The room was decorated simply, but it was clean. His eyes caught on a few old photographs, picturing what must have been a young Aedion and Aelin together, smiling smiles too large for their little faces.

Aedion reappeared, handing him the beer.

“I can’t believe Aelin conned you into this,” Aedion commented, leaning against the back of the couch. “But, I gotta say, I’m glad you’re coming.”

“Is the company there gonna be that bad?”

“Yes. But I also know Aelin’s doing this to piss off her ex. And I was never a big fan of him. I think it’s going to be funny.” Aedion finished off his beer, glancing at the clock mounted on the wall with a sigh. “Those girls are gonna make us late. Lys! Are you nearly done?”

“You can’t rush perfection!” Lysandra’s voice called from upstairs.  

Aedion shook his head fondly with a playful chuckle, clearly used to waiting on the girls.

They chatted casually until Rowan was finished with his beer. It was then that a door opened from upstairs, followed by feminine laughter and the clicking of heels.

Lysandra descended first, looking perfectly elegant in an emerald slip dress that brought out the green in her eyes. She tossed her raven hair over her shoulder as she caught Aedion’s eye, sending him a bright and loving smile.

Rowan barely heard the two of them complimenting one another, all thoughts flying from his head at the sight of the woman walking down the stairs.

Aelin looked stunning, though Rowan knew stunning wasn’t really strong enough of a word to describe her in this instance.

She wore a golden silk dress that hit just above the knee. The conservativeness of the length was offset by the way it hugged each and every curve, as if it had been sewn on to her body specifically. Thin straps held it over her shoulders, leaving her toned arms bare. Aelin’s hair had been straightened and left hanging freely in a gleaming sheet down her back. It was then that Rowan realized how rarely he got to see her with her hair down. When Aelin was working or working out, it was always tossed up in a bun or a ponytail. It suited her. She wore a necklace, and it wasn’t until she got closer that Rowan was able to see that the pendant was a golden sword. It was strangely fitting.

She was slipping something into her clutch, barely even noticing Rowan until she nearly walked through him. Her eyes snapped up, the stunning turquoise color brought out by her eyeshadow look. Her gaze traveled from his feet to the top of his head, assessing and nothing more.

“You clean up better than I expected,” Aelin said simply.

Rowan wished he had something witty up his sleeve, but seeing Aelin in that dress had left his mind in shambles. He was only able to grind out a curt, “Thanks.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, leaving Rowan to wonder what was going through her head. Before he had much more time to ponder it, she swept away, grabbing a jacket by the door.

“So, is everyone ready?” she asked.

“In case you didn’t notice,” Aedion drawled. “We were all waiting for you two.”

Aelin ignored the tiny quip, smoothing down the sides of her dress. “Well then, let's get going. We have a wedding to attend.”

…

The ride to the venue was uneventful. Aelin sat in the back besides Rowan while Aedion drove them all. The car was filled with friendly chatter back and forth, pop music droning on in the background.

Aelin tried to stop herself from sending sly glances towards Rowan. He looked good tonight. Really good. Rowan was hot on a day to day basis, something that not even his drab PT uniform could hide. But tonight, all cleaned up and dressed in something nice, Rowan was unfairly handsome.

Her only solace was knowing that he was checking her out too. Aelin knew she looked amazing tonight. Part of it was for herself, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that part of it was to gain Rowan’s attention. She had been successful in that endeavor.

Aelin wasn’t stupid. She knew Rowan found her attractive just as Rowan knew she found him attractive. They had been ready to go out and probably bang until they realized that they were coworkers. Aelin had agreed to keep it professional, but she would be lying if she said that she didn’t want something more with him.

Soon enough, Aedion was parking the car outside the venue. They filed out, Aelin smoothing and straightening her dress, a sort of heaviness in her gut as she looked towards where the ceremony would be held. Although she was excited to see Dorian, and happy that he had found love, she was less than excited about seeing Chaol again.

The scent of pine and snow surrounded her just as Rowan came up to her side.

“You ready?” Aelin asked him, to which he gave a stiff nod. “Good. Don’t embarrass me.”

Rowan scowled, but held out his arm for her regardless. Aelin took it, stepping close to his side, trying to ignore how nice the warmth of his body felt against her own.

It was time to get this over with.

…

The ceremony was simple yet beautiful. Any idiot could see how in love Dorian and Sorscha were with one another. Aelin had only met the bride on a few occasions, but she liked her. Sorscha looked stunning in a flowy gown that made her brown skin glow.

Aelin pointedly ignored Chaol even though he stood right by Dorian the entire time. Instead, she looked at the maid of honor, Yrene, who her ex was now dating. Through talking to Dorian, Aelin had learned that Chaol and Yrene had met through Sorscha. Apparently, the two women worked at the same hospital and were close friends.

Yrene was a beautiful woman with kind eyes. Aelin knew in her gut that she would like her once they got to talking. Perhaps they would find time to chat through the night.

The ceremony ended with a sweet kiss and the happy couple going off to take some photographs. For the guests, it was time to cocktail.

Rowan, at least, was playing the part of a boyfriend well. Without complaint, surprisingly. He held her hand as they went towards where cocktail hour was being held, a steady presence. He even chatted with her, asking her questions about how she knew Dorian. When she whispered snide comments about other guests, he even laughed a few times. It was… nice, she supposed. She was having a good time with him.

Lysandra and Aedion were swept up by Dorian’s parents, leaving Aelin and Rowan by themselves.

The more they drank, the more comfortable they became. It was easier to laugh, easier to forget why they had put distance between them to begin with. They had been pretty good at avoiding conversation with others to begin with, but Aelin knew it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths with someone.

“So what do we say if someone asks how we met?” Rowan asked as they grabbed another drink from the bar.

“We tell them the truth,” Aelin deadpanned. “Sexting on tinder.”

Rowan choked on his whiskey. “We cannot say that.”

“Fine. We can be boring and say we met at work.”

Rowan laughed, and Aelin realized how much she loved the sound. She liked how it softened his normally stony face, made him appear younger, lighter. She could get used to seeing him like this.

They turned from the bar, taking a few steps into the crowd, only to come face to face with the reason Aelin had dragged Rowan along to begin with.

“Aelin,” Chaol Westfall greeted, offering a shaking and awkward smile. “Hi.”

The smile that had been painted on Aelin’s face faltered slightly. She had been enjoying her time with Rowan so much she had forgotten why she had wanted him by her side to begin with.

“Chaol,” Aelin said, smiling tightly. “It’s good to see you again.”

Yrene was on his arm, looking stunning in a deep purple dress, curly hair loose and voluminous. Her honey eyes were bright and kind as she smiled at Aelin.

“You too,” Chaol said, before motioning towards the woman beside him. “This is Yrene. My girlfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Yrene greeted, reaching out and shaking her hand. “I love your dress.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ve been looking at your shoes all night.” Aelin put a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, pressing herself to his side. “This is Rowan.”

Aelin watched carefully as they all shook hands and greeted one another, carefully studying facial expressions and body language. She had wondered if this would be awkward and tense but… it was normal.

Aelin and Chaol had ended on terrible terms, treating one another like actual shit. She remembered the insults thrown, the glares when they happened to be in the same room. But maybe… maybe they had gotten better. Maybe some time and distance had eased away the worst of the anger and toxicity. She didn’t look at Chaol and feel bad anymore she felt… nothing.

But she could tell that Chaol had Yrene and he cared very much about her.

And Aelin had…

Well, she didn’t really have anyone but…

She looked to Rowan, and for once didn’t try to avoid the longing that swelled in her chest. She wished she had him.

…

Aelin sat down at her table, sipping at a glass of champagne and watching the people on the dancefloor sway slowly to the soft music playing.

The rest of the evening had gone by smoothly. Aelin enjoyed the time she spent with her friends, getting to see Dorian again even though she couldn’t steal much of his time. All and all, it had been fun.

The night was winding down, people filtering out slowly, but there were still those who lingered for a few more dances. Dorian danced with his new wife, both looking at one another with so much love Aelin could feel it from where she sat. Lysandra smiled and laughed and Aedion twirled her around. Chaol held Yrene to his chest as they swayed slowly, lost in their own world.

Aelin sighed and rested her chin on her palm, watching them all move.

There was the sound of footfalls coming her way, stealing her attention from the dance floor. She looked up and found Rowan standing before her, looking to where her gaze was just focused but glancing back at her with a raised brow.

“Do you want to dance?”

Aelin blinked in surprise, sure she had heard him incorrectly. Rowan didn’t seem like the type of man who enjoyed dancing but… the offer hung there.

“You don’t have to,” Aelin said softly. “You did your part.”

“I can tell you want to dance. So, let’s dance. It’s almost time to go anyway.”

Aelin hesitated a beat, studying Rowan’s expression carefully. She didn’t want him to do anything he was uncomfortable with, yet his face showed nothing but sincerity. Rowan held out a hand towards her, brow raised as if to say Well? Are you coming?

A hesitant smile found its way onto Aelin’s face, but she accepted his hand, letting him guide her to her feet. Rowan led her to the center of the dance floor, placing a polite hand on her hip, the other clutching her own. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Aelin could have sworn time stopped. Maybe she had imagined it, but she was almost sure she saw a flash of the same longing she felt in his eyes.

They began to sway slowly to the music. It was a little awkward at first, but as time passed and the notes rang out, the tension lessened. They moved closer and closer to one another, until to a stranger they might have actually appeared to be a regular couple. It felt more natural than Aelin expected it to.

As the songs played, they kept sending one another shy smiles. Aelin wasn’t sure at what point she rested her head against Rowan’s chest as they danced, but she never wanted that moment to end.

It was a shame that the reception was inching to a close, that the night of being close to Rowan would end. It was a shame that, come the morning, they would go back to being strangers once more.

But, for tonight, Aelin was content to pretend.

#tinder au #rowaelin #my writing

[beomglocks]

colors ; k.th

part of the badlands series!

colors: “you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece.”

based off halsey’s badlands album.

warnings and other: museum curator!taehyun, old money!y/n, mentions of depression and grass smoking, little bit of angst i guess??

taehyun sighed as he took down the 11th painting this week. the museum hadn't been very busy in the past couple of weeks, maybe because the weather was getting colder. one part of him figured that many people just wanted to be bundled up at home watching holiday themed movies and drinking warm drinks rather than appreciating enchanting artworks.

he couldn't fool himself though, he knew the truth. today's generation didn't care about the fine arts anymore. a shame, seeing as everything around them seemed to be inspired by it.

kang taehyun worked at his local museum. he had been offered the position by the owner one night while roaming the place. this should've been a red flag looking back. the owner seemed desperate for someone to fill in the position since the previous employee had left without notice. nonetheless, taehyun took the job and didn't regret it one bit.

open 24/7, the red haired boy was always working on the clock. not that there was much to do seeing as most of the people his age or even a bit older didn't hang around museums purely for the joy of it. actually, his only job was to exhibit the newly arrived collections, clean and dust them off, and conduct regular tours and workshops for the public. due to this and the fact that not many people even came by he would take regular breaks.

once in a while you'd see the occasional old person or art expertee roaming around the small museum. if you were lucky, you'd see the local edgy teens posing next to a piece they didn't understand just to get an aesthetic picture. taehyun would also have the unfortunate job of shooing them away or scolding them for getting just a bit too close.

recently his boss, who was the museum manager and maybe the only other person besides taehyun that worked there, had informed him that due to funds and unfortunate unforeseen events, the museum would be closing down in about a month from now. this caused taehyun to fall deep into a depression since this was his only job and he loved it here. the museum was like his second home. he found comfort in the silent images displayed throughout the building. they always told him a story and when new pieces came in he would sit and stare attentively at the new anecdote being told to him.

taehyun smiled sadly at the piece he had just taken down. it was a painting of 2 people kissing however both of their faces were covered by white cloths. this was his favorite and he didn't even have a clue as to why. probably because of the uncertainty of what the other was feeling or because of the fact that the other couldn't see each other's faces through the cloth, that would've made the kiss more exciting in his opinion.

he stepped out of the museum and into the frosty air of the outside world. it was only autumn so why was it so cold? he thought to himself. he discreetly pulled out a prerolled blunt and his white lighter from his pocket. he lit it and stuck in between his slightly chapped lips.

maybe smoking dope wasn't the healthiest thing in the world, especially for a boy so young, barely 19, but it helped taehyun get his mind off the inevitably of losing his job and being homeless for the winter. he shuttered at the thought. he would have to room with one of his friends, he sighed shaking his head. no, he didn't want to be a burden, yeonjun had helped him enough as it is.

he looked at his surroundings taking in the cold autumn afternoon. the trees had long lost their leaves and were bare. the sky was a murky gray color as if it were threatening to rain any time soon. he noticed a girl bundled up in winter clothes near the entrance of the building glance at him. he smiled at her and she jumped at the eye contact, thinking that he wouldn't catch her. taehyun chuckled as he watched her rush into the museum. "back to work," he said out loud to himself.

once the blunt had been almost gone, he smoked what was left of it and headed back into the empty museum. he was feeling light-headed, the effects of the blunt finally taking action, but taehyun was used to it so it barely affected him as much.

he made his way to the girl who was now starting to take off her jacket and scarf. taehyun tapped on the girl's shoulder to get her attention. "hi," he smiled at the girl, showing off his dazzling smile. "if you'd like, i could give you a tour of the museum." well what's left of it anyways, he thought to himself.

"oh...no thank you," said the girl. she smiled warmly at the worker. "well not to be invasive of your decision but it's sort of in my job description," taehyun replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. the girl sighed in defeat, "i guess i have no choice then."

taehyun laughed as he took her coat and scarf to hang up in the public closet, "yep, trust me. they say im not that bad of a tour guide, im quite fun to be around if i do say so myself. i promise not to bore you too much." the girl nodded, not entirely convinced. "if i do end up bored i will hold you accountable..." she took a moment to take a peek at taehyun's name tag, "kang taehyun," she joked.

as they walked through the museum the girl couldn't help but notice that it was fairly empty. "why are there almost no paintings in here?" she laughed hesitantly. "i thought this was a museum?" taehyun stopped walking, turning to her with a sad expression on his face.

"the museum is expected to close in about a month or so," he stated simply. "oh...that's terrible. may i ask why?" the girl responded. "my boss says we've run out of funds or something like that," taehyun chuckled bitterly. "people don't really give a shit about good art these days anyways."

"that's a shame..."

they continued to look through the various paintings that were still up and occasionally the girl would ask to see the ones that were taken down and left on the floor. it seemed the two were lost in each other's company as night started to approach.

"thank you for the tour of this lovely museum taehyun. it was fun but it's a shame such a nice museum like this is closing down," the girl said softly. taehyun nodded solemnly, he just wanted to get this day over with and crash at his apartment. he didn't blame the girl before him but talking to her reminded him of his harsh reality. a notification coming from the girl's bag made both of them jump as they were both lost in their thoughts.

"ah, that must be my father. he's kind of annoying when it comes to my curfew," she chuckled, digging her phone from her bag. taehyun watched her with a bored expression until his eyes reached her bag. he hadn't noticed this earlier but she had been carrying a louis vuitton bag. his eyes bulged at the expensive item that was so close to him, they got even larger when she fished out the latest iphone from it.

taehyun wasn't poor per se, he had just enough to get by since he was living paycheck to paycheck. however, he had never been in such close proximity to any luxury items. he suddenly felt weird being this close to this girl.

"what do you mean by curfew?" taehyun asks hesitantly. the girl sighs, "my father is one of south korea's richest chaebol's, maybe one of the big three at his point." she rolled her eyes as if this information was nothing. "he's super strict with me because i guess i'm just his show pony daughter whom he can show off to say he's a good father."

taehyun gulped, had he just been casually hanging out with the daughter of one of the richest men in korea? he felt sick at this. she looked up at taehyun's uneasy expression, "oh my god im sorry i just dumped that all on you! i just needed to catch a break so i came here, i didn't mean to drag you into my life story."

taehyun fixes his face, laughing nervously, "no- no its fine really. we all need a break sometimes right? im glad you got to have that time here." the girl smiled up at him, completely misreading his nervous laughter, "im glad i got to spend it here with you taehyun."

"oh before i go!" taehyun watched her pull out a checkbook from her bag and his stomach dropped. he silently watched her scribble some stuff onto the slip and tear it out, handing it to him.

"there's not too much i can take out of my account without my father flipping out but i hope this helps even just a little. whether it be in your personal life or with the museum."

taehyun eyes the check and chokes when he sees 50,000 dollars written neatly on the black line. he swears he can feel sweat going down his face like in the cartoons. "i- i cant possibly take this from you." he moves to hand the check back but the girl refuses to take it back. "taehyun, you love this museum with your entire being. i see the way to look at the paintings and the passion with which you explained them to me. i'd hate to see that taken away."

"plus, if you're gone who's gonna give me the tour when i come back?" she laughs as if this is something casual. taehyun's hands shake as he pockets the check, "i seriously cannot thank you enough...you don't know how much you just helped the museum and m-"

the girls phone dings again and she grumbles, "ugh why can't he just leave me alone. sorry but i think i really gotta go for real before he tracks my location or something crazy like that."

taehyun nods wistfully at the mention of her having to leave. he was really starting to enjoy her company.

"oh by the way," the girl giggles as she pulls her coat on hurriedly.  "was that you smoking weed at the corner of the museum earlier?" the girl chuckled to herself again just remembering it. taehyun furrowed his eyebrows, "why would you say that kind of thing at out loud and at my job?!" he scolded in a playful hushed voice.

"i just thought it was funny and you also smelled of weed the entire tour, i didn't mind though so don't worry," the girl concluded. she was starting to walk away towards out the door now. "i'll walk you out," taehyun offers. "such a helpful employee. is this in the job description too?" the girl jokes, turning to him while a smile on her lips. "well, not exactly," taehyun says smoothly.

she shakes her head, "i'll see you soon taehyun." he watches her walk off into the darkness of the night when he suddenly remembers something.

"hey what's your name by the way?" he shouts after the girl. for some reason taehyun really was hopeful of seeing her again.

"y/n!" came the disembodied voice of the girl he had just met.

#kang taehyun #taehyun #taehyun imagines #fluff #taehyun reactions #taehyun drabbles #taehyun drabble #taehyun imagine #txt imagines #tomorrow x together #drabble #taehyun fluff #txt fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt headcannons #txt reactions #txt scenarios #taehyun timestamps #taehyun fic #taehyun x reader #Spotify

[inncomplete]

          ( HEIDY, 23, SHE/THEY, CST. ) ☆ Open your hands and hope to catch a star, KIM JANGJUN, and it might just grant your wish. At TWENTY FIVE years old with an odd resemblance to SONG KANG, you don’t seem like the type who should be caught in a town like this, but who am I to judge? I’m sure there are others who are just as RETICENT yet MAGNANIMOUS and INSOUCIANT… although, really, I don’t think anyone else could remind me so much of RIPPED JEAN JACKETS, A SMILE NOT QUITE REACHING HIS EYES, and CAR DRIVES WITH NO DESTINATION. It seems you’ve lived here for ALL YOUR LIFE working as AN INNKEEPER AT DOTORI INN, but didn’t I overhear you wishing YOU COULD FIND YOUR LOVE FOR ART AGAIN the other night? Oh, I’m mistaken, hm? Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me; a little wish has never hurt anybody.

              hello  hello  😳  i'm  heidy ,  twenty3  from  the  cst  timezone  ,  &  i  go  by  she  /  they  pronouns  !  veryvery  excited  to  be  here  &  share  jangjun  with  u  all  ,  he’s  truly  a  gift  ,  but  also  very  excited  to  be  in  a  rp  group  again  bc  its  been  forever.  umm  anyway  .  apologies  in  advanced  for  how  long  this  intro  is  probably  gonna  get  i’m  a  virgo  …  we  just  don’t  know  when  to  shut  up  aha  🙈    

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     QUICK  STATS  !

full  name  :   kim  jangjun

age   :   twenty  five

zodiac  :   gemini

spoken   languages   :   korean  ,  english  &  just  a  LICK  of  french

sexuality  :   bisexual

alignment   :   lawful  good

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     BACKSTORY  !   

son of kim seokcheon and jo minsu , their first born , pride n joy with shining qualities and the potential to become starlight bay’s shining light by the time he could talk. grinning ear to ear no matter the face that looked down at him and never once hesitating to stick his arms out for a hug.

grandson of kim minsoo and ahri , starlight bay’s actual pride n joy. the town’s favorite elderly couple aka owners of the dotori inn. these are the ones to thank for jangjun’s gracious upbringing. not that he had a negative relationship with his own parents , he loved them just as much as the next loved child , but any chance he’d gotten he’d run right down to the inn to greet the guests ( regulars and newcomers alike ) alongside his grandparents and quickly became seen as one of them. 

for as long as he or anyone could remember , jangjun was a frequent enjoyer of the arts. painting , drawing , mixing water with mud to make his own modeling clay — you name it. the simplest and most accessible form of self expression and gateway for those growing emotions. instead of talking out his feelings in a way he didn’t know how or dealing with an emotion as heavy as they came , he’d use these various forms of art to center himself in any way they allowed. it became something he enjoyed so much that he knew from such a young age what he wanted to do. he wanted to take what he loved and use it to help people. it felt unique , like he’d discovered something no one had ever done before and was putting something into the world that could make such an impact it would change it. it wasn’t until he was older that he realized what he wanted to be was an art therapist.

for years , jangjun stood along his grandparents and helped around the inn whenever he could. his own room granted in the old house in which they stayed not far from it. he was happy to be in a place where he was always helping people as he was taught this was the most important thing you could do , not only for others , but for yourself. ‘ what you put into this world is what you will get back. treat others with tenderness and you will never have to wonder who you are. ’ words of wisdom passed down from his grandfather and practically engraved into the back of jangjun’s brain.

along working at the inn , jangjun focused intently on his studies , never once slipping away from his enjoyment of creating. a teasing rumor had it the kim’s cloned jangjun at birth to be a prodigy of some kind because you’d find him in so many places at once. dotori inn by sunrise , and as the day progressed , you’d catch him around every single corner of town , always on the go and always seen putting a smile on the face of anyone he passed by. by the time he graduated high school , jangjun was presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. he was granted a scholarship to nyu , such a prestigious school known for their sought after art program. as eager and excited as he could be ( and already two trips to new york under his belt ) jangjun felt like he was on his own path.

that is , until , his grandmother became sick. faced with the challenging predicament , jungjae already knew what lied ahead. the choices were unfair regardless , but he had two. continue on to nyu and allow his younger sister to hold back on her dreams to stick around the inn .. or give up his own and resume as the kim jangjun dotori inn knew and needed. for him , the decision was easy.

🚨 🚨  POSSIBLE CONNECTION MAYHAPS ? — saving his sister’s future was not the only thing holding jangjun back to starlight bay , but a lover. another person in his life that wasn’t so easy to leave behind but an easy consideration to stay. to make it even angstier ? they broke up not long after he gave up on nyu to stick around.

fast forward to current times and you’ll still find him present at dotori inn to this day. rumor has it he’ll be the one taking over ownership once his grandparents are no longer able to. but anyone that knows him well enough knows that’s not what he wants. anyone that knows jangjun to his true core notices how he no longer leaves home with the same paint residue on his clothes , no longer has that smile that reaches his eyes anytime they’re met and no longer carries that same passion that he once did. you’ll still find him helping around town and putting those in need above his own , of course. after all , it’s what he’s been taught his whole life to do. everyone always talks about the stars that fall over starlight bay and the wishes they grant you , but perhaps this is what was written for him in them all along.

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     PERSONALITY  +  TIDBITS  !

sooooo as u could have guessed if u read any of the above gibberish is YEA jangjun puts everyone and anyone above him and would give you the shirt off his back if that was what u needed

he very much prides hard work though ?? like he’s not so much a pushover as he is just a very forgiving person and is willing to put issues to the side if it meant the greater good .... 

if u are an asshole and ungrateful no he will not give u whatever u want or do anything u ask of him. he will simply tell u to learn how to do it on ur own BUT he will be willing to show u how <3

always outside .. always working on something or talking to someone .. always found absolutely anywhere and everywhere like seriously u just saw him at the inn an hour ago ? that’s great ur about to bump into him again at ur mom’s house because he agreed to help her fix a leak in her sink 

ALSO HE HAS A DOG ... his little baby boy named cherry whom he plasters all over his social media. love cherry n jangjun loves u its a simple world we live in

a big part of his friendliness and eagerness to help others and make sure they are ok DOES come off as flirting i will nawt lie ? and u know what maybe he is just naturally a flirty person but he means well and wants people to feel like they have him whenever they need or want him ? SUE HIM ? SDDMDNCMCN

so sorry to the ones he lingers around a little too much and brings soup to ur door from his grandfather and always asks if u need help with whatever ur working on and u think there is something going on . no im sorry baby he just lives like that in 2021 can u believe

treasures his friends so greatly and yes , again , will bring u food twice a week and make sure ur eating well and not doing ur favorite activities alone i wish i had a jangjun truly 💔 

UMMMMMM and .. umm and um ? he’s sweet and loves helping and he does it in a way that won’t let u take advantage of him and he just wishes for the growth and happiness of those around him. EXCEPT if ur mean / think u can just take and never give. if that’s the case then screw u - from jangjun 

truly i  hate  this  i  wrote  so  much  for  no  good  reason  …  but  anyway  if  ur  like  me  &  prefer  discord  for  plotting  u  can  add  me  @  heidykins#0016  and  we  can  plot  there  !  but  if  discord  is  nawt  ur  jam  we  can  plot  over  tumblr  ims  as  well  i  just  might  be  harder  to  reach  there  so  pls  be  patient  with  me  🥺  anywayayayayyaya  im  SOO  excited  to  be  here  &  write  with  u  all  im  so  sry  for  the  MESS  of  this  intro  she’s  not  so  sexy  but  thats  ok  because  i  think  jangjun  makes  up  for  it  so  um  come  plot  with  me  <3trea

#str:intro #⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ OUT OF CHARACTER ⠀ ／ ⠀ * ⠀ notes. #i didnt proof read this if u see a typo ...... no u dont<3

[millllenniawrites]

fun in the meantime (FO! Poe Dameron x f!OC)

part two of when the stars miss the sun

written with @vampirewithbedsidemanners

words: 2.4k

warnings: dark!ooc!Poe Dameron (if you want specifics, dm me); smut (rough sex, slight dubcon moment, praise, 'good girl' used); prostitution; established relationship (sort of); slow burn (yes the two can coexist leave me alone); redemption arc; Pixar ending; murder; warnings will be added as the series progresses

a/n: i love this story and im so excited to share it with you guys. this one is as cute and soft as it gets before everything gets very very dark (though please do heed the warnings cause it isn't just happy times)

__

Red woke up alone in sheets that still felt warm and soft like his satin skin. Her Admiral… not that she could let him know how ingrained in her mind he had become over the last three years. Just like every time before, he left her with the taste of him lingering on the edges of her senses, keeping her from the biting, harsh reality of the universe they lived in.

The house was beautiful and grand without being over the top, just as out of place as he was in everything. He’d told her the night before that the house was the only thing he had to his name outside of the Order. She believed it. There was something to him that made her believe that there really wasn't anything else out there for her beautiful, lost man.

She left the safety of his bed, padding across the warm floors and out into the hallway that fed a large central spiral staircase. It extended down all five stories to the basement, where they’d dragged out boxes of files the night before prior to shutting themselves in his office to work.

She hadn’t had the chance to see enough of the beautiful house. Later, when she had a moment, she would explore the place that seemed to be an extension of her Admiral. She would let her hands roam over the banisters, the same way they had caressed across the banded muscles in his thighs as she rode him, giving over her body and heart and soul before she realized that she was.

Red crept silently down his stairs. She followed the sound of fingers on a screen to his office, where they'd spent much of the night before. His uniform jacket was still in a ball on the ground where she'd tossed it after ripping it off him. The papers he'd swept off his desk to make room to lay her on it were still scattered all over the room.

Poe was sat at his desk, hair mussed from sleep. The collar of his threadbare shirt was stretched out, and he played with the edge of it as he studied whatever was on the screen in front of him.

Nothing about him appeared like he was a feared Admiral of the First Order.

When he finally noticed her standing in the doorway, he smiled softly. "Did you sleep okay?"

She padded over to him, easing down into his lap. Something about him put her at ease, when everything about him should have sent her running. Quietly, she threaded her fingers through his hair, tilting his head back so she could gaze into his eyes. “I missed you.” Her admission was quiet, timid, sweet... with no hint of the deadly resistance intel Captain that was actually sitting in his lap.

“Just thought I’d get a head start this morning ‘nd let you sleep.” He’d snuck out of bed before the sun had risen, intending to finish up the packaging of intel that he’d neglected the night before before returning to her. If he had the restraint to resist her, he may have finished the work, but he couldn’t deny himself the little temptations that made him feel alive.

Time had gotten away from him in the early morning hours, as it tended to do.

There was so much more to the war now, and he was no longer the young, energetic try-hard Captain, campaigning for what he believed in no matter the cost.

Things were complicated.

“Come back to bed?” She asked, brushing her lips against his in a soft kiss.

He melted into her touch, softer than he should have been. She could ask him for anything when he was like this, his vulnerable soul left barren for her. “Shouldn’t we finish up?” He murmured, a half-hearted attempt to retain control over himself that he no longer had.

“We should.” She sighed, shifting so she could straddle him. “But I only get you like this for a little longer. That uniform has to go back on eventually.”

“It’s just a uniform.”

“A uniform that keeps me from you.” She kissed his neck as her hands slid under his shirt. Every word fell from her lips like a quiet admission she wasn’t sure she could say, or mean. Not without wrecking everything between them.

“We’ll blow it all to hell. Just need a little more time...”

“I need you.” Her whimpers called him home, her deft fingers tracing his abs under his shirt and bringing the forbidden temptation of her skin flush to his. Her lips on his neck and jaw stole his breath, chasing all thoughts from his mind. “Just a little bit. I’m not ready to give you back.”

“You’re coming with me. You don’t have to. You don’t have to give me back.” His voice was breathy, betraying how touch-starved he truly was.

She kissed him to silence the whimper on his lips, tangling around him. “You don’t belong in the Order.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” She tugged him close. “I do, baby.”

Something changed in his eyes as the words left her lips, his vulnerability swallowed in something darker, clamouring for control. He gripped her hair, tilting her head back and kissing down her neck, rough and forceful. He needed it the way he needed air in his lungs. The wall he erected around his delicate heart shattered in her presence, and he couldn’t afford it. Not now.

He carried her up the stairs, distracting her with kisses and tearing through the thin clothing on her body. There was nothing gentle about it. Gentle sex gave her the space to break down his walls. Gripping her thighs, he flipped her over and pinned her down, lips at her ears.

“I need you loud for me, honey.” He growled, pulling her hips up into his lap and spreading her pulsing center open to make space for him.

“Poe!” She cried out, forgetting what they were for a moment. All that mattered were his callous-rough hands on her skin and the musk of his breath on her neck. He slid in all the way, not needing to get her ready for him, fucking her in the brutal but sweet way that made the room spin.

He lost himself in her moans, the way she thrashed in his arms as she neared the edge. He almost couldn’t hear her pleas for a break over the sound of her begging for more.

“That’s a good girl.” He murmured, too soft for what they were now, his praise painting her lips.

“Your... your good girl.” she gasped, “I’m yours.”

*

Red fell back into his arms in the bed, still giggling from the accidental tickles. Twisting so she could see his face, she relaxed, bitting her bottom lip. “Civilian life looks good on you.”

"Y'think so?" He gazed down at her. "This is the first time I've given it a try."

“Lucky me.” She grinned, wrapping her arms around him.

"I think I'd wanna be somewhere warmer. Salient has too much winter." He pulled the blankets up over them both before letting her curl up in his arms.

“Ever been to the old capital?” She hummed, drawing on his chest.

"I haven't been to any of them.” And he wouldn’t have the chance to visit one of them now that the Order had destroyed Hosnian.

“Chandrila is like a never ending summer. If this war leaves it untouched, maybe we can go after it all. Just us.”

"You don't wanna be seen with me." The thought of it was so absurd he snorted. He’d been in enough of the propaganda the Order put out that there would never be peace for him.

“No one has to see us. We can take a boat out to the islands and go swimming and fuck and lay out in the sun.”

She could see it. The warm Chandrilan sun on his tan skin, lighting his eyes. His curls in between her fingers and his lips between her legs. Them, laid out in the open, a far cry from the corners they’d been hiding in for three years.

Poe couldn’t help but indulge her. "We wouldn't even need to bring clothes."

“I think clothes on you should be illegal.” She giggled, scooting over onto his chest and straddling his hips.

"Yeah? I don't think that's part of Pryde's plan. You're welcome to talk to him about it when we transfer, though."

“When I’m done with him, it’ll be his first priority.” She grinned mischievously.

He couldn’t help but melt at how sweet she was. “He would be scared of you, if he saw who you really are."

Her smile softened as she eased down into his arms. She knew he meant it as a compliment, but she couldn’t help but worry. Why she gave a shit what he thought of her, she didn’t know. If it was going to wreck the mission, it would have by now. “Do I scare you?” She asked, her gaze as intense as the pounding of her heart in her chest.

"Yeah," he said softly. "But that's a good thing, right? You're supposed to keep your informants in line?"

“Are you still an informant? I thought we were friends.”

“We are. But you’re here to take down the Order. Same as me.” He poked her forehead. “Agent.” He poked himself in the chest. “Informant.”

She copied him, jabbing him in the chest. “Poe, Red. And right now, we’re just two very hot people in bed together. Naked. Enjoying life.”

“It’d be kinda sexy to call you Agent in bed.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Anything as long as you don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She punched his shoulder lightly. “Poe!”

“Why don’t you like that one? Bad boyfriend?”

“It makes me feel like my mom.” She made a face like she was grossed out by the thought, warm love for her mother radiating through it.

“Gotcha.” He kissed her lightly. “Your whole ‘young and innocent and beautiful’ look doesn’t exactly give off mom-vibes.”

She pouted. “I think I’d make a beautiful mom.”

He smoothed the wrinkle in her brow with his thumb. “You would. Of course you would. I just meant that you wouldn’t attract clients with Mommy kinks.”

She scrunched her nose. “Not mommy kinks. Breeding kinks though. I don’t mind those.”

He was quiet as he thought about it. “I don’t know if that’s my style. It seems pretty... close. Intimate.” He coughed, like that could make him feel less exposed. “I’m never gonna settle down with anyone so I don’t think I’d be able to handle taunting myself with that, y’know?”

She held his face, bringing herself as close as she could to him. “I’m not either. So maybe we can with each other. Right at the end. That’d be one hell of a way to go out.”

This was her job. Her role, for the Resistance. She had to make him comfortable and keep loyal and Poe understood that. But he had no reason to betray her. There was no risk in buying in. In letting her do what she had to. “It would be.”

The bed was more enticing than the rest of the house — or the rest of the universe — as far as they were concerned. A droid rolled in about an hour later, bringing foods that neither of them would see again once they left their little sliver of civilian life.

He drank caf, with milk in it if that was an option. He liked his eggs cooked through and spice with his dinner. Everything was appetizing to him as long as it wasn’t slimy. The more they rolled around and talked and fucked and snacked, the more human he seemed to her. The war was worlds away, set in another time and another life where her and her Admiral were just simple people living simple lives.

He knew what she was doing. The questions she asked and information she gathered, just set her up to move around him as seamlessly as the air he breathed. When they got where they were going.

If.

Her laughter made him dream of quiet afternoons just like this, with a beautiful girl in his bed. Endless summers in her eyes. With her, he almost didn’t need the Chandrila sun.

“How often do you make it out here?” She asked casually, eating a piece of fruit while sprawled out on his bed, her eyes on his bare ass.

“Not often. Less since my promotion. It’s pretty nice though, hey?” He noticed her gaze and tossed a clean sock at her.

“Great view. I could stay here forever.” She grinned, spinning her finger in the air at himself. “Nope. Turn back around.”

Poe twirled around, showing off like he had a part time job at a strip club. He moved from the hips, putting on a show until he caught her eyes.

It was too vulnerable. All of it.

He pulled a face, sticking his ass out and wiggling his hips.

She tossed the sock, hitting him in the ass. “You’re lucky you’re hot.” She giggled, reaching out for him. “Come back to bed. I won’t get to lay around and fuck you all the time when we get back to your ship.”

“It’s not mine. I’m only an Admiral.” He crawled up the bed to her, slotting himself between her thighs. “But I’ll take advantage of this while I have it.” He gripped her hair in his fist, tilting her head back to expose her throat. His gaze trailed down her as he murmured, “So pretty...”

She growled, flipping him over and devouring him. There was something in the way he held her, kissed her, that told her she could ask anything of him and he would. For her, or the resistance, she didn’t care. As long as he was on the right side of the war.

His words echoed back in her head like a problem she had to solve. The ship wasn’t his.

She could fix that.

#fo!poe dameron #first order poe dameron #fo!poe #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x oc

[descendantofthesparrow]

Harry Hook x Reader - soulmate au! lost things

=

A soulmate. Something everyone had, whether they be on the Isle or in Auradon. You had watched your mom and dad hand things the other had lost back to each other, either be a pen or a full stack of papers.

Oh, did I forget to mention? Soulmates found whatever the other lost. So say one lost their phone? The other would find it moments later.

Sometimes appearing mid-air and dropping into your hands. Your mom had once lost her wedding ring when she was cooking, your dad decided to be all dorky and “propose” all over again.

It was one of your fondest memories of them, it always filled you with the hope that one day, maybe you and your soulmate would be that way.

Speaking of your soulmate.

A pair of headphones appeared out of the corner of your eye. You smiled and picked them up, examining them.

They were a dark red with black leather for the ear cushions, little silver and gold bits and bobs decorated the headband and outer shell of the speakers, a small cross bone skull painted on the left ear.

You knew for a while that your soulmate was and isle kid, from the state of the items he lost. Always run down or used, broken, worn down, and sometimes, things you had “lost” before that he had lost again.

Like this pair of headphones, it was a pair of headphones you had bought last month and “lost” them, and now soulmate had lost them again.

You tossed them onto your bed and continued to work, knowing you would soon forget about them and they would return to your soulmate.

=

Harry growled in frustration as he tore through his room for his headphones. “goddamnit!” he yelled, tossing up his pillows, hearing them thud on the ground behind him a moment later.

“where the hell are meh headphones!?!” Harriet rolled her eyes behind him, messing with the threads of her new shirt (mostly new, her soulmate had lost it recently)

“yeh dolt it's with yer soulmate, yeh will get it back soon jus’ wait” she muttered, sneering as Harry turned to her and stuck his tongue out.

“shut up Hettie” he jeered back, grabbing his discarded pillows and tossing them back on his bed.

Somehow throughout the years, his soulmate had lost a lot of of….comfortable things, like soft fluffy pillows, blankets, hoodies, and even a full bag of food!

Sometimes he thought his soulmate purposely lost things to give him stuff. It was one of the reasons he wasn’t starving to death or sleeping on a lump of stone for a mattress so he wouldn’t complain.

“harry” he looked at his sister, pressing his lips together and shrugging.

“what” he stressed, eyes drifting to where she was pointing.

There on his dresser was his headphones, though they weren’t there a moment ago “told ya”

Harry glared at her and snatched them off his dresser, tossing them around his neck and stomping out of his room.

=

“(y/n) I swear I can't find my new shirt! I just got it last week!” Audrey whined about her shirt, it was a non-expensive one but it was comfortable and breathable. You sighed through the phone.

“Audrey, if you can't find it, your soulmate has it, so just chill okay?”

She sighed “I know I know but that was a good shirt!”

“just buy another one?” you suggested, knowing she could easily do that.

“but that was-what the-oh” you heard something in the background and you sat up.

“new thing?”

“uh…yeah? It’s a ….bracelet?”

“whats it looks like?” you trapped your phone between your cheek and neck, continuing to work on your essay.

“silver, bunch of….piraty things on it? Is the best way to describe it I guess, and some red gems on it too”

“sounds cool” you laughed, setting your phone down and turning on speakerphone. “so hows you “vacation” going?”

“pretty good, I got my hair done”

“I saw, it looks dope” you complimented. Audrey hummed back.,

“I like it too, so anything new for you?”

“yeah, headphones, and a ring” you glanced at the red ruby ring on your desk, the teeth of the skull clamping around the jewel” “so you’re sure its an isle kid?”

“has to be, everything they lose is used, the only thing that was relatively new was stuff I lost”

“hmmm, well you know I really don’t like isle kids”

“correction, you don’t like Mal” you interrupted quickly, knowing she liked Evie to an extent and Carlos and Jay weren’t really on her radar.

“yeah yeah, but if they are an isle kid I won't be mean, if it's your soulmate it's your soulmate!”

“same for you Aud” you teased, her lost things were also very…isle like, but she constantly denied it.

“oh shut up”

You glanced at your clock and sighed “I gotta go, I have a thing to do”

“im guessing cotillion?” Audrey muttered.

“yeah, sorry Aud”

“its fine, its not your fault Ben was spelled”

“I know, but still” you murmured, saving your essay and closing your laptop “alright I really gotta go!”

“bye! Talk to you later kisses!” she made a kiss sound and hung up, leaving you to get to jane to help plan cotillion.

=

You jumped as Lonnie burst into your room, speaking quickly “bens on the isle kidnapped by pirates and I need your help to convince Jay and Carlos to let us help!”

You stayed silent as you processed her words before leaping out of bed and quickly getting dressed.

“let's go!” you grabbed your sword and ran out with Lonnie,  running around to the front.

“we’re coming with you guys” Lonnie stated, surprising  Jay and Carlos, the two boys laughed nervously.

“what? We don’t need swords at the…..waffle hut?” Carlos's smile dropped and he slowly turned his head to look at jay.

“really?”

“look its either you take us or….we’re gonna have to tell fairy godmother” jay and claros glanced at each other and sighed.

“alright, but (y/n) do you eve-“

You snorted and lifted up your arm, revealing the P tattoo you had gotten a couple of years back In honor of your uncle jack.

“There are some things I haven't told you guys” you laughed, pushing past them and heading to the limo.

=

Harry raised his brow as beasty boy kept glancing at his wrist “what are yeh lookin’ at beasty” he huffed, pointing his hook at him.

“…that bracelet looks very familiar for some reason” Ben muttered, squinting at the red and (f/c) beaded bracelet.

“so wha’ its meh soulmates” Harry rolled his eyes, turning around and strutting around the mainmast.

Bens eyes widened, that’s where he recognized it, it was (y/n)s! maybe-

“Finally!!!” ben was ripped from the mast, and pushed to the plank. “so lets get this started shall we!!” Ben looked to the group had arrived, relieved to see you among them.

No matter how pirate someone was, it was hard to beat the daughter of the king of pirates after all.

(y/n) turner.

=

You glanced around, some of these guys were hardly holding their swords correctly. You kept your sword behind your back since Mal had said to keep them hidden so Uma didn’t know anything was up.

Soon, mal passed the wand to uma, ben being handed back to her. As the pirates yelled in victory, you locked eyes with the tall red-coated boy, his bright ocean blue eyes sending a shock down your spine.

‘the hell’ you thought to your self, shaking your head, about to run back to the tunnel when uma screamed and broke the “wand”

“NO!” your eyes widened, watching as Uma drew her sword “YOU DO NOT GET TO WIN EVERY TIME!” Carlos dug out the smoke bombs and launched them at the pirates.

You sighed, drawing your sword and flipping it in your hand, cringing as mal fumbled to grip ber sword correctly.

“mal space your fingers and move your thumb to the right!”

You leaped down the deck, landing in a crouch next to mal. “you focus on ben, ill handle any that come” mal looked startled but obeyed, running up the deck to get to ben.

Uma locked eyes with you, pointing her sword at you “get her!”

You smirked, twisting around and dodging several pirates blades, heh, your baby cousin could fight better than these goons.

Uam huffed, deciding to deal with you herself. You smirked as she ran at you, easily blocking and parrying her attacks.

She was quite good, possibly taught by one of the OG pirates that lived on the isle, but still.

She couldn’t best you. You disarmed her and tripped her, wincing slightly as she hit the deck with a loud smack.

“who the hell-“ her eyes widened as she caught sight of your wrist. You smirked.

“honor among thieves young captain” you purred, embedding her cutlass beside her head. As you ran to head back to the tunnel, something appeared mid-air.

A silver hook.

…

…

…

Oddest fucking timing you got ain't cha soulmate??? You ignored it, strapping the hook to your belt loops and running, not seeing umas jaw drop as that entire event happened.

“holy shit” she muttered, jumping as Harry popped up behind her and growled.

“I lost meh hook!”

=

Later in the limo, Evie finally caught sight of the hook, her eyes widening “h-how did you get Harrys hook? You never fought with him??”

“Harry who?” you muttered confused, grabbing the hook from your waist and holding it up “wait was this Harry apart of the battle?”

“yes! He was uma first mate! The one with the red coat!” Evie stressed.

You were silent for a moment before facepalming “this popped out of the air just as we were leaving.”

“oh shit” the car sounded back, Harry Hook was your soulmate.

=

A year later, the hook still sat on your dresser, delicately placed in a display case, and polished every week.

You had been unable to forget about it, unable to send it back to harry. So you kept it, not being able to go to the isle and give it back personally.

Until one day.

You dove underwater, glaring back up at the surface as you saw Audrey disappear.

You were really glad you followed your gut and took the hook with you to Janes birthday party.

Breaching the surface you took heavy breathes, swimming to the edge and lifting yourself up onto the grotto.

“come on, we gotta warn the others!” you lifted jane out of the pool.

“you go do that, I have to get my stuff!” you took your bike back to the dorms, changing out of your wet party clothes and into your gear.

You slid your loose leather jacket up to just below your elbow, putting on your gloves and ring.

Black pants with reinforced knees, calf-length steel toe boots, and your sword, hook once more on your belt loop.

As you stepped out of the dorms, you locked eyes with the vks.

“hey” you yelled out, smirking as they all jumped. “where the hell have you all been??”

“uh, getting hades ember???” mal looked you up and down, raising her brows “why are you dressed like that?”

“because I can” you snorted, locking eyes with harry “hey, I think this is yours” unhooking the hook, tossing it to harry.

He fumbled to catch it, jaw-dropping as he realized what it was “how-when did yeh get me…..oh…OH!” his cheeks turned pink, looking away from you and into his shoulder.

“yep, how’d you lose it in the first place?” you asked, watching as Harry glared at jay. “ah, gotcha” you snorted, following the group out as they had decided to go to the castle.

=

You smiled as the bridge began to build, your parents just behind you, hands on your shoulders. “you ready (y/n)” your mom asked, brushing a piece of cake off your cheek,

“yeah, and I think you guys will like him” you snickered. Your parents looked at each other, smiles on their faces.

“and why is that?”

“hes a pirate” you laughed, watching as Harry stepped over the bridge/Auradon border and locked eyes with you, a bright smile on his lips. He started to walk over to you.

“like mother like daughter” your dad laughed, grinning widely as you ran forward into Harry's arms.

“found yeh” Harry laughed, nuzzling his cheek into your hair, holding you tightly to his chest.

“I think our daughters in good hands” your mom hummed, intertwining hands with Will and walking over to greet harry.

you turned, smirking as you saw a black haired pirate girl hang Audrey recently lost necklace in front of her, Audrey cheeks Turing dark and she buried her face in her hands.

“wait Hetties soulmate is Audrey?....whoa” harry laughed, watching as his sister kissed the princesses forehead.

“i knew it” you chuckled, taking Harry arm and dragging him to meet your parents half way. “i never told you who my parents were right?”

“no?”

“yeah my moms Elizabeth Swan and my dads Will Turner.”

“WHAT?!”

---the end---

-this isn’t my best but I just had to get this idea out of my head, inspired by tik tok POVs with this au, might do a more in depth version of this--

 permtaglist

@queer-cosette​

@sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​

@random-thoughts-003​

@amorathegamingkitsune​

@rintheemolion​

#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine

[romantic-barnes]

strawberry & tape | part five

| part five - ring pop poison |

Pairings: dark!biker!bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has the town in his hands and a lot of blood. All you have is a cafe your mother left you after her passing. But as Bucky’s attention moves to you, do you have the strength to pay revenge for his wrongdoings? Does your push into the dark paradise end in love or blood?

Warnings: mention of suicide, possessiveness, violence This is dark bucky! please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics mentioned above!  

A/N: Please don’t read if you are under 18! Here we go. We’re getting closer to the finish line, I’m thinking two parts left maybe! 

I’m just gonna tag some of my faves, you are under no obligation to read this! @imanuglywombat​​ @mariessecretfantasies​​ @sinner-as-saint​ @buckybarney​ @mypoisonedvine​ 

For the first time in moths, the sun peaked through the clouds,making an appearance. It was mocking you, your tears. The grief in your eyes was the suns silver screen on a Saturday night. It clapped as you closed your eyes, like a velvet curtain falling. 

There wasn’t a funeral, no respect for the traitor who was falsely accused of compliance. You heard her fathers scream through the town, echoing along the streets, pulsating in your ears. The grief of a father who’s daughter was taken by the biest in the darkness. They stripped her body of clothes, showing the bruising along her thighs, neck and arms. They hung Lana on the church, head hanging from her neck. High enough to be seen from the windows three streets away. Lana’s body served as a warning.

Your head was empty as they had you watch as they hung her body, a smile of victory on Bucky’s face. The day after that dragged you through a nightmare of memories flashing through your eyes. But between those, possibilities of what could have been, Lana’s life without the painted poison. A life full of light and colour. A life where you do not exist. 

It was foolish, you were foolish to step into the spotlight of Bucky’s eyes. It was your fault. If you just had sat and shut your mouth, maybe she would still be alive. 

You sat at the wall, cowering in your own self pity. It became clearer by the minute that you had lost long ago. You lost against Bucky the second he came into your cafe. 

The door to your right opened and Steve walked in, after him Sam and Bucky. They looked around until Steve’s eyes fell on you. It was unclear what you saw in his blues, but its wasn’t pity. You were sure he could smell you from there, all of them could. The neglect of a shower could be seen on your skin. The dirt under your nails, oil coating your hair and the stench on your clothes. 

Steve walked into the bedroom while Sam disappeared into the bathroom. Bucky lingered for a second before slowly waking towards you. Unknowingly you slid away from him, but Bucky reached out to grab your arm, hoisting you up. He scrunched his nose, disgusted by your appearance. 

“When was the last time you showered?” He asked as he dragged you out of the room into the hallway. 

“I don’t know.” You whispered back. Maybe it was shame or maybe it was the fact that you haven’t spoken a word in days. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you pretty again. Can’t let you rot like this.” Bucky looked back to you while he dragged you up a flight of stairs. “I need my wife to be in top shape.” The grin spreading across his face sent shivers down your spine. 

The floor up from yours looked different, almost taken care of. Walls painted white, floors polished and light fixtures lighting the space. A few rooms to your left and right, but Bucky guided you right past them towards a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. He let go of your arm fishing a set of keys from his back pocket. 

Bucky unlocked the doors and ushered you to go in. The scent of flowers and soap filled your nose. The place looked shockingly nice, cosy even. Walls in an brilliant white, sofas facing a TV, a piano pushed against the wall to your right. There wasn’t a trace of remorse or shame in the room. The atmosphere disinfected from the crimes of the innocent.

“Welcome to your new apartment, sweetheart.” Bucky took his leather jacket off, draping it across the couch. 

Compared to the tiny space you lived in, this was a huge contrast. But something about it bothered you. A look around confirmed that this was where Bucky lives and now not even the walls would be an escape from the monster living under the roof. A cage full of poison pulling you deeper into the hopelessness.

The door behind you opened, Sam and Steve came in, carrying your few things in boxes. Steve walked passt you with a wink, setting the box down on the floor. With a quick wave they disappeared again and you were anxious on what would happen. You felt unnervingly aware of your own presence, wanting to vanish between the cracks in the floors.

“Come here.” Bucky ordered and you followed him into a different room. You looked around, a lump forming in your throat. The bath had been filled with water, a coat of white bubbles floating on top. “Take your clothes off.”

You looked at Bucky with wide eyes, blinking at him a few times. Bucky sighted, moving over to you. 

You inched away as his fingers got a hold of the hem of your sweatshirt. Shaking your head you tried to remove him from you, but his grip was too tight. Pulling the sweatshirt over you head, Bucky moved to your leggings, pulling them down your legs, removing them with your socks. You crossed your arms in front of your chest to cover up your exposed skin. 

Bucky reached behind you, taking a hold of your bra clasp, his hot breath burning on your forehead and with no effort he undid your bra. Bucky’s eyes fell on yours as he slid the straps down your arms, untangling your limbs from your chest, your bra fell to the floor, exposing your breasts to him. 

Bucky’s tongue moved over his lips, leaving a wet trail. “Pretty.” Bucky said and although his voice was silky, the word felt like daggers in your ears.

Bucky knelt down in front of you, pulling your cotton panties down, his mouth agape. The touch of his fingers running down your legs, his eyes fixed on the flesh in front of him, it was surreal. 

He threw your clothes into the corner, taking your hand in his, helping you into the tub. As you sat down, the warm water encapsulating your skin soothed your head. 

You looked up to Bucky as he removed his clothes, revealing the toned and muscular body underneath. You turned your head away, heat rising to your head. Bucky chuckled and that left you even more embarrassed.

Bucky lowered himself into the bathtub, is eyes burning into yours. He gestured for you to come closer to him and as you laid between his legs, head and back resting on his chest, Bucky’s hands roamed your arms. 

“I had my eye on you for a long time, dollface. Don’t you remember your mothers funeral? I was there.” Bucky spoke softly into your ear. “I saw your teary eyes and that awful black dress, but you still looked pretty as ever. But that day in your cafe, when you threw coffee at me.” Bucky chuckled a little before sitting you upright, coating your hair with shampoo. “That moment just confirmed it for me.”

Your searched your brain for any confirmation of what Bucky said, trying to remember seeing him at your mothers funeral while Bucky continued to wash your hair. The image of Bucky standing off to the distance floated in front of your eyes. Bucky in a suit with Steve and Sam by his side. 

Bucky rinsed your hair, you heard him inhaling deeply. “I love you.” He whispered against your hair. Your lip trembled, tears threatening to fall, but they didn’t. You felt sick to your stomach at the words. It felt as if the water that welcomed you with it’s warmth now suffocated you, strangling your throat. He was insane, out of his mind and you were sure of it.

You were sat on the couch, listening to the commotion in the house. There were voices coming from a few rooms over, but you couldn’t tell if they were real or not. Your hair dried by now, but his fingerprints still lingering on your every fibre. 

Next thing you knew the door opened and a man in leather called you to dinner. You swallowed, getting up from your seat, following the man down the many flights of stairs, turning corners before entering a dining room. 

A long table was set with plates and cutlery, all seats were occupied but one at the other end of the table. Reluctantly you sat down, eyes burning into you from all sides. They watched as you sat down on the cushioned chair. Bucky smiled at you from the other end of the table, gesturing for the meal to start. 

You watched as the residents took their food from the plates in front of them, piling them up. Your eyes fell on Peter sitting a few seats away from you, your jaw tensed up upon seeing the traitor. 

“Darling, eat something.” Bucky’s voice cut through the air, taking your gaze away from Peter. 

You grabbed a few potatoes, watching as Bucky’s mouth spread into a smile at your compliance. You swallowed the food slowly. It felt so normal, so typical. You were the odd one out between the gangsters. A flower growing between weeds. But you knew sitting where you sat that you would wilt.

Suddenly Bucky stood with a smile, looking around the table. “These past weeks have been very hectic.” His eyes fell on you. “But we’ve once again conquered every bump along the road. We yet again eliminated an enemy of ours from our beloved Dawn. All thanks to out youngest member. Isn’t that right, Peter?”

Your blood was boiling as Peter swallowed, eyes flicking to you and back to Bucky. 

“Peter?” Bucky called for him again and Peter nodded his head. 

The heat in your head turned scorching hot. You took the wine glass in your hand and with one swift move stood and threw it at Peter’s head. Your hands trembled, shook unbearably, because it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough seeing him cowering in his seat, blood rolling down his temple. You wanted to strangle im, break his neck, burn him alive. Anything to make him feel the pain you felt, the anguish you’ve felt since she died in front of your eyes.

You moved around the table, but were stopped by a red head holding your arm. Bucky’s laugh filled the quiet room. Everyone was quiet as Peter ran out. Tears spilled from your burning eyes. 

Bucky walked towards you and you thought you were going to die right there, but Bucky took your face in his hands, kissing your forehead. “This is not how I expected this to go, but oh well.”

Your mouth opened and closed, feeling the woman’s hand leaving your arm. Bucky reached to his back pocket pulling a blue velvet box out. You stared at it as he opened it, revealing a ring. Your jaw slacked and you thought gravity was pulling you to the floor. 

There wasn’t a question, no kneeling. Bucky slid the ring onto your finger without a second thought. You broke out of your trance, hearing cheers all around you, but your brain was scattered, eyes burning. Black dots closing in before your eyes as you hit the floor. 

You awoke with a start, but instead of hard wooden floor underneath you, you felt soft material hugging your figure. Warmth encapsulated your body. Your eyes drifted to your body, an arm wrapped around you. Reaching out to remove yourself from the restraint, a glimmer caught your attention. You raised your hand examining the ring, wrapped tightly around your finger. The diamond worth more than your life.

Your eyes travelled up the arm, shoulder, neck and finally to his face. Bucky’s face was too close to yours, laying on his stomach, eyes closed.  A shaky breath left between your teeth, quiet enough to not disturb the wolf sleeping soundly. You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your head. 

You sat at the edge of the bed. Bucky was long gone when you woke up from your sleep. After a deep breath in, you rose from the bed, walking over to the closet. 

It was strange seeing you so dolled up. The version in the bathroom mirror was foreign, someone you knew long ago. But now she’s a ghost standing beside you. 

You left to Bucky’s office, a walk of shame. You didn’t know if going back to work was a good idea, but you needed to leave the house. Clint stood at the door, killing machine in hand. 

“I need to speak to Bucky.” You said with confidence, or what little was left of it.

“He’s not here.” Clint looked down to you and you swore you almost missed it as he looked ahead again down the hallway. The glimmer of sadness, pity. 

You nodded your head even though he wasn’t paying attention. 

You took a different route, far away from the church. You were sure that Lana’s body had started to decompose because the stench of rotting flesh whipping in your face each time the wind blew. As your cafe came into view, you almost forgot what it looked like. The lights out, chairs on top of the tables. 

You got everything ready for business, even sweeping the floors, baking more strawberry pastries. The distraction felt good, empowering. A sense of control. A purpose. 

The bell above the door chimed and for the first time in forever, a smile broke out on your face unknowingly. Mrs. Wilson stepped in with her purple coat and yellow purse. You wiped the powdered sugar on your apron. 

“I was surprised to see the light on! I missed your baked good, dear.” Mrs. Wilson fished a piece of paper out from her purse, dictating what she needed. There wasn’t a lot you could offer her, but you managed to bake a few bread loafs and scones along with her favourite pastries. 

You packed up her items and took her money. “My dear,” Mrs. Wilson spoke softly. “I am so sorry about what happened.” You raised your head, smiling weakly.

“Look, Y/n.” Her addressing you with your name was weird, making you stare at her with her change in hand. You could’t read her face, detect a particular emotion. “I heard you are going to get married to Bucky, but I fear that you won’t survive him.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were not made for this life, Y/n. I know Lana’s cousin, he’s been running the flower shop since you know, but he has to return to the city this week on Saturday. Dear, I could talk to him and ask to take you with him.”

Your jaw fell open. Could it be that Mrs. Wilson wants to help you get away from Bucky, from Dawn and a possible marriage? Words didn’t come, you stared at her with your lips parted. If you declined, you might as well pull out the rope. But if she’s lying to you, Bucky would personally hang you with his own hands. 

“I’ll come back on Friday and you tell me what you decided on.” Mrs. Wilson took the change from your hand, holding on to it, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “He’s leaving at two on Saturday.”

Mrs. Wilson took her bag and looked back to you before she disappeared through the door. 

You didn’t realise you were crying, holding onto the counter. You don’t have a lot of time to think, Friday being the day after tomorrow. Your mind was shattered. You were sure that you could hold your breath for another day, until the nightshade would take you away. 

[ next ]

#dark!bucky #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x you #biker!bucky #biker!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky #clair writes

[kyber-crystal]

united we stand || s.r

summary: in which you, sam, steve, and natasha are forced to go on the run after civil war. unfortunately, being a fugitive with government officials out for his blood doesn’t seem to stop the great captain america from falling even more in love with you.

words: ~2.5k

warnings: slight angst, sam and natasha being matchmakers, fluff 

a/n: OMG IM SORRY THIS ONE WAS SO POORLY WRITTEN ADLFJDSF

It doesn't have to come down to this, Tony. Look what you're doing. You're tearing the Avengers apart."

"You did that when you sided with Cap, Y/N."

"What do we do now?"

"We fight."

"He's my friend."

"So was I."

"He killed our parents, Y/N. And you're still willing to take his side? I thought I could trust you. But I guess I can't even rely on my own judgement anymore to make decisions, can I?"

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you jumped from rooftop to rooftop, a dull ache forming at the edges of your skull due to all the thoughts rushing around in your brain and narrowly escaping a flurry of over two dozen of General Ross's men.

Guilt settled in the pit of your stomach, making your insides churn. You turned against the last family you had left, and now you were paying the price.

You're one hundred percent sure that Tony hates your guts at this point. Leaving your brother for someone else; what had you become?

"What now?" Sam asked, looking around and sending Redwing out to survey your surroundings for any other agents that could be approaching. "What's our next step?"

"We gotta catch a train. Belfast's no longer safe for us," Steve panted as he slid his shield over his back, trying to catch his breath. "Our safety's already compromised as it is."

"Nat's gonna go get the tickets, I'll buy us some disguises. We're less likely to be recognized because you guys are all suited up with your wings and shield," you explained. "Wait here."

A few minutes later you were all dressed inconspicuously in your new disguises, looking like the other civilians that were walking around. You didn't have enough time to check the sizes of the clothing, so Steve ended up wearing some jeans and a light grey T-shirt that was about a size too small for him, outlining every inch of his toned torso.

You quickly tore your gaze away before anyone noticed you staring. Sam caught this, however, and sent you a little wink. You glared at him in response.

"The next train to Glasgow leaves in nine. We gotta hurry," Natasha said as she handed you your tickets. "Come on."

Luckily you weren't recognized as the ticket holder came around, though you tried to keep your heads down low when she passed by.

"It's a 14 hour ride. You fellas might wanna relax, take a nap or something," she said, reclining her seat back and closing her eyes. "We won't be arriving until early tomorrow morning."

You relaxed in your seat, the tension in your muscles loosening a bit. But Steve saw the distressed look in your eyes and placed a gentle hand on top of yours.

"You alright?"

"Could be better, I mean, it's not like I chose to be a fugitive on the run from the entire world," you joked, but the smirk on your face quickly fell. "No. I'm not."

"It's going to be okay, you know. Things'll work out in the end."

"I sure hope so."

You fell into an awkward silence after that, resting your chin on your hand as you stared out ahead, watching the rolling hills whiz by in a blur, the vibrant green a sharp contrast to the powdery blue sky. Ireland was a beautiful country, really. You wished you could stay longer purely for the sake of admiring all the lovely scenery.

"You know, if you just want to talk about anything, we can do that. 14 hours is a pretty long train ride," he finally spoke up about an hour later. Sam was fast asleep at this point, mouth opened slightly as his head rested on Natasha's shoulder, who was sleeping as well.

"Yeah, it is. But we've had worse days, right?"

"We have," Steve agreed.

So you just talked, about whatever came to your minds. Your childhood, your past before joining the Avengers Initiative where you'd previously served as one of SHIELD's top agents for several years, Steve's life back in the 40's before becoming a super-soldier, how much things changed over the years. About past missions.

Soon enough you felt your eyelids droop heavily from fatigue. He noticed your tiredness and reached out his right arm, gently wrapping it around you and pulling you towards his side, encircling you completely in his warm embrace. Slowly but steadily, your muscles began to release the tension in them and you leaned into his touch.

"Why don't you get some shut-eye. We have plenty of time to talk when we arrive."

"Mhm," you mumbled sleepily. He smiled, brushing a few stray hairs away from your face as you drifted off.

...

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is our final stop. We have arrived at Glasgow Central Station," the conductor's voice announced over the intercom as the train began slowing down. "The weather is currently 59 degrees, and it is 5:27 a.m."

"Wake up, lovebirds," Natasha clapped as you stirred slightly, looking confused as you raised your head from where it rested against Steve's chest. "Time to get going."

You yawned and stood up, stepping off onto the platform into the station, surprisingly busy at the crack of dawn. You really just wanted to curl back up into a ball and sleep. Talking for four hours straight with Steve had knocked you out completely.

After getting new SIM cards, Sam quickly created an account to get you checked into a hotel.

"It's a half hour walk. We should probably limit public transportation as much as we can," he stated as he slid his phone into his jacket pocket. "Managed to snag a 40% off deal including a free night, so we're good for the next few weeks until we get an actual apartment."

"You know," Natasha commented, adjusting her baseball cap and aviators as you made your way outside down the bustling street, "if we weren't currently trying to flee from the government's grasp, I'd say I'd wanna come back here for a vacation. And that's on nice architecture."

"With us?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? You're pretty good company. I wouldn't wanna hang out with anyone else."

"Well, what can I say?" Sam puffed up his chest. "I'm smooth with the ladies."

You simply laughed. "Yeah, sure you are."

Glasgow was a breathtaking city. With sprawling Victorian style buildings and cobblestone roads, brightly labeled bars and restaurants, it appeared as if it was pulled straight from a rustic 19th-century painting.

You checked into your hotel after grabbing some food from the nearby bakery. For a cheap price, your room was surprisingly simple but large: a king bed in one room, a pullout couch, and a small balcony so you could stand outside and take in the view of the city.

Despite having no time zone difference between Ireland and Scotland, you were still extremely jet-lagged, most likely due to the flight you'd taken over to Berlin not long ago. After binge-watching reruns of some sitcom for the rest of the day, you fell asleep, clutching your pillow tightly.

Natasha and Sam had good eyes, and could clearly see something was going on between you and Steve.

The truth was, you wanted something to happen but both of you were too chicken to make a move, thinking being in relationship while on the run was inconvenient and unnecessary.

The first few days passed by relatively quickly. You only really went out to buy groceries, and even then you went two at a time to avoid drawing unwanted attention to yourselves. Once, you treated yourselves to a night out at a nice restaurant, enjoying each others' company. It was a way to forget about your currently unfortunate situation.

...

But then the nightmares began.  

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed after waking up in a cold sweat, heading over to the bathroom. Everyone had already gone to sleep long ago, and you envied people like Sam as he could knock out cold almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Staring at your ghostly reflection in the mirror, you squeezed your eyes shut, releasing tears that cascaded down your flushed cheeks in a hot flood. You ran trembling fingers through your messy hair in an attempt to tame it, taking a brief look at your disheveled appearance. The heavy dark circles underneath your bloodshot eyes that were a result of hardly sleeping over the past week were clear, as well as your sunken cheekbones and deathly pale complexion.

You studied the woman that looked back at you, with the same unnerving and hollowed out gaze that she'd worn for years; a façade she learned to develop so that nobody could see when she felt weak; helpless. 

Ten days. 

Only ten days had passed since you arrived in Scotland, yet it seemed as if you aged ten years during that short amount of time. Small creases in between your brows indicated stress and anxiety from leaving everything you knew behind, for a future you could barely see ahead of. For a life that held an endless amount of consequences if you took one misstep, one wrong move.

Your body felt heavy, weighed down as if you carried the weight of a thousand men upon your aching shoulders. You didn't know what to do; what to think anymore.

You didn't look thirty-two anymore, you looked older. Almost as old as Tony. And there was a 10+ year age gap between you and him.

God, Tony.

You betrayed him. The last living member of your family on earth, and you betrayed him.

Turned your back on him, because you didn't believe in the same ideas. Was it really worth turning your back on your own blood just because of a disagreement?

I thought I could trust you.

I thought I could, too. But I guess things don't always work out as planned, do they?

They don't. I don't even know what I can say to you anymore. Hell, I can't look at you without seeing a traitor. You turned your back on all of us, and that's unforgivable.

The Accords, you know I couldn't sign them. It isn't right. I'm fighting for what I believe in.

No, you're fighting for Steve, not yourself. Always running over to precious Cap even if it costs you your safety, if it costs you everything and everyone you ever loved. Because you think that you can rely on him and him alone, to get through this. You won't get very far by keeping this act up, you know.

News flash; the world doesn't revolve around you, Tony. Just because someone doesn't agree with what you believe, doesn't mean you have to tear their team, their family, apart for it.

You're blaming me?

Maybe I am.

"What are you doing up this late?"

Steve's voice jolted you from your train of thought, and you looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe dressed in sweats and another tight-fitting T-shirt, his blue eyes scanning over you worriedly.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm fine, if that's what you're wondering. I'm just a bit jet-lagged," you muttered, hastily wiping away another stray tear that escaped. He pushed himself off the wall and caught your wrist as you were bringing your hand down, tugging you towards him slightly.

"Tell me what's going on."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not. What's wrong, Y/N?"

"I..." your voice faltered. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until you felt your face grow wet from the salty tears that rolled silently into your cracked lips. "I don't know. Everything's wrong."

"Everything?"

"I made a mistake."

"What do you mean, mistake?"

"I turned my back against Tony. My family. I betrayed my own family, Steve." Your voice cracked. "And now I can't even guarantee that I'll ever see him again."

"You did what you had to do," he said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You felt your skin burning up under his touch. "You were just trying to do what you felt was right."

"Yeah, by teaming up with the side of the man who killed my parents. I can't imagine what he even thinks of me right now."

A look of hurt briefly passed over Steve's face at the mention of Bucky.

"...But I know their deaths were out of his control, so I don't blame him," you continued. "Still..I hurt him. And now, I have to live with knowing that fact." "Look, I'm sorry."

"What?"

You looked up and met his gaze, feeling his bright blue eyes boring into yours. He didn't seem upset or angry at all; there was an eerie softness and calming feeling about the way he looked at you that made you relax a bit.

"I shouldn't have dragged you into this mess. I never wanted you to have this kind of life; where you're always living in uncertainty. You deserve better than that."

"It's not your fault at all," you swallowed hard. Talking and breathing grew increasingly difficult with the sob that was building up in the back of your throat, that you tried desperately to conceal for so long, "it's mine. I made that decision to side with you, not only because I couldn't stand the idea of signing the Accords. So it's...it's on me. God, I don't know what to do anymore, I can't—"

A wave of grief suddenly hit you from all sides, causing you to keel over, sliding down against the cold wall with a hand clutching your stomach as an agonized scream tear itself through your body and out of your throat. And you were drowning; suffocated by your own tears as you struggled to breathe. You tried desperately to stop them but nothing could seem to hold back the heavy sobs that wracked your body, clawing at your lungs and heart. 

Steve crouched down in front of you and pulled you against him, arms tightening around your body with each cry that escaped your lips. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to take all your sadness and frustration and grief and put it upon himself, to carry the weight on his shoulders so he wouldn't have to watch you endure the pain. He'd much rather have to suffer himself than watch you try and bear the burden and fall to pieces in the process.

Seeing you breaking down before him with your gut-wrenching cries that echoed across the small space, more vulnerable than you'd ever been in front of him before, made it feel as if someone was directly ripping his heart right out of his chest and tearing it into a thousand pieces with their bare hands. 

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered soothingly as he pressed his lips to the side of your temple, "it's okay. I've got you. You're gonna be okay."

Despite how you felt as if your heart was twisting itself into knots, there was something comforting about the way he held you ever so gently in his arms, the way his warm breath fell against his neck as one arm was firmly hooked around your waist, running his free hand through your hair.

So for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that there was no one else in the world except for just you and him, holding you close, and that everything was fine, even if the feeling only lasted for a second.

#steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #captain america one shot #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Two Live Crew Job

leverage 2.07

Sophie: I love the symbolists.

- - - - -

🥰 I love when the ot3 are together in one frame 🥰

- - - - -

the dogs playing poker painting tho

- - - - -

Eliot: Any sudden movement's gonna cause displacement of the water. It'll set it off.

Parker: Is that C-4?

Sophie: Oh!

(Nate grabs Parker’s hand before she can touch the vase)

Sophie: Parker... please don't poke at the motion-sensitive bomb.

Nate: So, uh... secret admirer?

Sophie: Well, it's no secret they want me dead.

Hardison: What do you think, man?

Eliot: I'd have to reach into the vase to disarm it. It'd go off.

eliot’s lips quivered when he said that bc he’s so nervous for her im-

- - - - -

Parker: Do you have any instant pudding?

(everyone looks at Parker in surprise. Cut to Parker pouring pudding into the vase)

Parker: The powder hardens the liquid, tricks the bomb into thinking it's not moving.

Eliot: Should give you a little wiggle room. Very little

MASTERMIND PARKER

- - - - -

(mourners are gathered around a casket with a line of black cars parked nearby. An open casket shows Sophie lying inside. Eliot is standing at a podium)

Eliot: She had a way of taking care of people, you know? She was a sister... she was best friend, all rolled into one. I'm gonna miss you, Soph-- So-O-O-O-O much, Katherine.

(Eliot leaves the podium. Hardison stands to let Parker walk by and she approaches the podium. Nate stands at the back of the crowd, Eliot joins him)

Parker: Katherine and I have known each other forever. Almost two years. Yeah, I know that probably doesn't sound like a lot to you, but it is to me. I never really had many friends. Which is why losing her is so hard. (sighs) It's so creepy. I mean, she's really dead. I was just talking to her and now she's just laying there. She was just laying there.

(Nate coughs and Hardison gets up to go to Parker)

Parker: Can you hear me?

Hardison: Parker. I'm -- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, y'all. What – What she really means is just, um, Katherine was like family. And sometimes, friends are all the family that you have. So... you -- you good? Come on. Just – let -- just keep going. You got all hysterical and emotional

- - - - -

btw there is at least one door from behind the briefing monitors which means they have at least one extra room (most likely more) from the adjacent apartment eliot knocked the wall down from

they have guest rooms or something back there for if anyone needs a place to crash

- - - - -

Sophie: We used to work together. We did the Copenhagen job in '97, the Berlin Polytech job in '98, and, Nate, remember – Remember that great run in Moscow?

Nate: "That great run"? I chased you for three months.

Sophie: Well, uh, technically, y-you chased us. Sorry.

Hardison: Are you saying that you saw other teams before us?

Parker: Really just another Nate before Nate.

Eliot: Let me ask you a question -- what bugs you more, is it the fact that he was with Sophie first or that he outsmarted you?

Nate: Moving on

eliot puts his arms over the couch and behind parker and I’ll take it + them grinning at each other seeing nate’s discomfort

- - - - -

mikel is wearing flannel in this one and you can now take bisexual mikel from my cold, dead hands

- - - - -

Sophie: Wrong place, wrong time. Starke must have seen me, and now that I’m one of the good guys, decided to get rid of me, because...why? Because... Because I know his scams. Because... I know his favorite scam.

[Warehouse]

(Stark’s team is sitting on crates looking at monitors as he goes over the job)

Starke: Cafe and a moonlit terrace.

Sophie (voice over): The Mona Lisa variant.

[Briefing Area]

Parker: Oo! (claps) That was the first one I learned!

- - - - -

(Hardison is drinking orange soda and working on a computer as Sophie watches)

Sophie: I'm not dead. I'm right here, Parker. So, this is, um, it's what you do, right? You take footage of us on cons and you -- you -- you -- download it into that?

Hardison: Yeah, I analyze it, I monitor comms, I scan for a police frequencies, I -- You had no idea I do all this, did you? Well – d-does nobody respect the van? The van is important. What -- What is that?

Sophie: It's lemon-Zest tea. I got to tell you, it's -- It's a little bit -- It's a little bit whiffy in here.

Hardison: It smells like hard work. That's what it smells like. D-- Whiffy

sophie has no idea what hardison does and does not like the van smell. hardison is ready to go off

- - - - -

Sophie: That was some nice things you said at my funeral.

Hardison: Wait. We -- We trust Nate to make sure the plan works. We trust you to make sure we’re all okay.

- - - - -

Starke: Word is on the street that you run the nastiest crew this side of the Atlantic.

Nate: Well… what?

Starke: Come on. Everybody knows. You robbed a bank and you -- you framed a judge. You rigged a jury to steal a million-Dollar settlement. I hear that you even conned the Irish mob out of a couple of million dollars just this year. Now, that's style.

Nate: That's one way of looking at it.

Sophie: Listen, Nate, if you tell him the truth about us, we're blown

- - - - -

Hardison: I know this style. This is Chaos.

(computer screen flashes signal found. Hardison grabs his keyboard and heads for the back door of the van)

[Parking Lot]

(Hardison exits his van and a little ways down the parking lot, Chaos exits his van with a laptop in his hands. They square off like an old west gun fight)

Hardison: Chaos. I heard you were in jail. Guess I was wrong.

Chaos: Hardison. I heard you sucked. Guess I was right.

(they eye each other across the lot, their fingers twitching. Abruptly they raise their keyboard and laptop and begin typing while car alarms start going off)

this wild wild west showdown tho

- - - - -

Nate: Okay, now, we know Starke. This guy goes by the name Apollo. I've chased him a couple of times -- infiltration, physical security.

Parker: People in that line of high-risk work tend to be very unstable. We could use that. Write that down.

(the rest of the team exchange glances)

🥰 she’s sitting next to eliot with popcorn between them 🥰

- - - - -

Hardison: Now, this person here's ex-Mossad, sealed records. Mikel Dayan used to work both sides as a mercenary.

Eliot: Mikel Dayan. I know that name.

Hardison: You were scared to fight a girl.

Eliot: She'd mop the floor with you, Hardison.

Hardison: I don't care.

Eliot: Seriously. She actually killed a guy once with a mop. It's a funny story, actually. (starts gesturing time parker) She broke the mop and took --

Hardison: Eliot. Eliot. (turns back to monitors) Now, this here's Colin Mason, otherwise known by his hacker handle as "Chaos." As... whatever. Hacked the pentagon, the NSA. The CIA computer guys call him the Kobayashi Maru.

Eliot: What the hell is that?

Hardison: None of y'all got that? Seriously?

Parker: Star Trek.

Hardison: Thank you

parker’s reluctant fistbumb I love them + it’s officially canon that she’s seen at least some of the movies

- - - - -

Nate: I tried to say to her I’m sorry, you know, and I don't –

Security: Because, as men, we're taught to hide our emotions. You share or you pay the price.

Nate: Yeah

- - - - -

Mikel: You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?

(Eliot walks forward, taking off his jacket and hanging it on some pipe)

Eliot (in Hebrew): Not unless she hits me first.

(they approach each other and begin to fight, blocking each other until Mikel hits Eliot in the chest, knocking him back. He touches where her blow hit.)

Eliot (in Hebrew): That counts

let me just say I LOVE that they had a woman hitter

- - - - -

Starke: What is going on, guys?

Guard: Motion sensors went off, sir.

Starke: I already checked that out. Everything's secure. And who's this?

Guard: Uh... he just got lost. No problem.

Starke: Sir, you okay?

Nate: Yeah, I’m fine.

Starke: I'm Nathan Ford. I'm with the insurance company.

(Nate gives Starke an irritated look)

- - - - -

Parker: What kind of bird did you use?

Apollo: North American Kestrel. It's small-Bodied, but its wingspan is expansive enough that it sets off the motion detectors.

Parker: I would've gone with the Scarlet Tanager. Similar wingspan, but the brighter colors are more distracting.

Apollo: Yeah. That was my second choice.

(Apollo scrambles forward in the ductwork. Parker also scrambles forward, headed another way)

- - - - -

eliot taking off his shirt too? equal rights

- - - - -

Starke: Now, why would you want to kill Sophie?

Chaos: Come on, Starke. (gathering equipment) I had set up the perfect double-cross, and then you want to go and bring in a new player at the last minute? "Oh, and by the way, guys, that new player is gonna be Sophie Devereaux." There's no way I’m gonna try to out-con Sophie Devereaux! And I hate to break it to you, Starke, but she was the one that everybody was always scared of. It was never you.

- - - - -

[McRory’s Bar]

(Parker and Apollo sit at a table with locks)

Parker: Go.

(they begin picking locks to see who is fastest. Across the room, Eliot and Mikel sit at a table)

Mikel: I can top that. (pulls her shirt aside to show a scar on her shoulder) Frag grenade, Somalia.

Eliot (pulls up his sleeve to show scar on his arm): Myanmar. Sniper.

Mikel: I was a sniper in Myanmar for a while.

Eliot: When?

Mikel: 2003.

(Eliot looks surprised. Mikel holds up the handcuffs and Eliot quickly pulls her hand down)

Eliot: Oh, no, no, no, no, no. We can't have that.

Hardison (walking by): Handcuffs. Y'all nasty

(eliot has a handcuff kink and was probably pegged within an inch of his life that night. I said what I said.)

- - - - -

(Sophie stands looking down at her grave. The headstone for Katherine has been replaced with one for Sophie Devereaux. Nate approaches and stands next to the grave)

Sophie: Starke was right. I'm not Sophie Devereaux anymore. I haven't been for ages. I... you killed her, you and your silly crusade.

Nate: It's just a name.

Sophie: No, they're not just names, not to me. All my aliases, every one of them, I -- I know when their parents died. I know when they had their first kiss.

#leverage #leverage 2.07 #leverage 2x07 #the two live crew job #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

[earth-architect]

Senior Year Adventures:(Zuko x Oc) pt.13

“Our first Christmas together”

“KIANNA”, Toph yelled from her room,” YOU HAVE TO GET THE DOOR CAUSE IM BLIND”

“TOPH KNOW WHERE THE FRONT DOOR IS” Kianna yells back. Deciding to get the door anyway, she quickly walks out the kitchen with her apron still on to answer the door.

 “hey guys.” She says with a smile as she opens the door. Stand at the front door is Zuko and Azula, which she expected, but what she didn’t expect is the 6 wrapped boxes the two carried.

“come on in, you can put those under the tree in the living room”, she quickly users the siblings into the house 

“I have to check up on my pie really fast, you remember where the living room is?”

“yeah, come on Zula” with that Zuko and Azula walked to towards the living room and Kianna rushed to check on her pie in the oven. While Kianna took her time in the kitchen, the two siblings reached the living room. Azula was too busy looking around the house in wonder, much like he had when he first came here. Zuko gets to work on setting the presents under the tree, noticing that there where two presents for him and his sister. ‘Kianna really thought of everything’ he thought 

“well Zuzu,” Azula finally took her eyes away from the large windows in the living room, “when you said Tophs house was beautiful you went kidding”. Before Zuko could reply, toph walked in, with her normal fashion.

“well good to see you two made it… well not see” toph laughs

“thanks for having us toph, I’d like to introduce you to my sister Azula”Zuko watches at the two girls basically size each other up

“even though your clearly blind… you seem like someone I would associate with” the breath Zuko was holding slowly releases as he sees tophs wide smile.

“wow I like her, why where you hiding her the whole time”

“yes Zuzu, why where you hiding me away” Azula give her classic smirk, which Zuko rolls his eyes at.

“Zuzu?” Kianna says as she walks into the living room, Zuko gives her a look but she just grins at him.

“well while my pies cool off, we can open presents, and then by the time we’re done it’ll be pie and movie time”. The group all agreed and sat on the couch while Kianna piled everyone’s gift next to them. Toph open her gift first, from Azula and Zuko she got a cassette player and tape of her favorite band. From Kianna she got a new headphones and new lightweight shoes. Next Azula opened her two presents from Toph and Kianna (really from just Kianna). The girls had given her a pair of red converses and a pair of air pods (Toph wouldn’t stop bugging Kianna until she bought the air pods). Zuko open his gifts after that, receiving a nice expensive looking leather jacket, and some ne black converse. Lastly Kianna opened her gifts. From Toph she received new art supplies and from Zuko and Azula, she got a set of different sized cavasses, and new set of watercolor paints. Everyone was pretty happy with what they all got from each other. While top listened to her new cassette player and Azula messing around with her air pods, Kianna took this time to check on her pies. She walks to the kitchen, and Zuko follows her shortly after she exits the living room 

“I didn’t know you baked pies.” Zuko leans against the kitchen island as he watch Kianna lightly touch the pies to check the temperature.

“my mom and I baked together every Christmas, it’s a little tradition I like to keep.” she grabs plates and forks and grabs a knife to cut the pie.

“so”, Zuko looks at his hands “I actually have one more gift for you” Zuko takes a nervous step as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box that has a neat bow. He hands her the small box, looking at her expectantly. She looks at him surprised but excited to see what the gift is. Kianna opens the box and she swears he stopped breathing for a second. Inside was a beautiful red ruby ring with a silver band. The ring was simple but breathtakingly beautiful. Kianna couldn’t help but tear up a bit as she looked at Zuko

“oh, you hate it don’t you, that’s ok I can return it an get you something else” he reaches for the ring, but Kianna quickly moved it away.

“n-no, I- I love it, it’s beautiful Zuko really” she slides the ring on her right finger and admires it

“how did you know my ring size.” she takes her eyes off the ring to looks at Zuko, he blushes and scratches his neck. 

“I looked at the rings you had in your room when I was over last week”Kianna smiles

 “well thank you, I love it.” The two looks at each other, it was almost like there where the only two people in the world. Without realizing it they slowly grew closer and closer, Zuko rested his hands on her waist, while Kianna puts her hand on his chest. She could see the slight hesitation and nervousness in Zuko’s eyes, and she hoped he could see the kindness in hers. She slowly leaned in and he met her halfway, their lips finally meet. The kiss was slow and sweet and quickly turn fast and needy. Zuko breaks the kiss and puts his forehead against hers. 

“I know I said we should take this slow but”, he licks his lips “I know what I want, and that’s you” Kianna’s breath hicks as she looks up at him through her eyelashes. She smiles so hard and wraps her arms around Zuko’s neck but before she could kiss him again, he leans back slightly

“just to be sure this means you’re my girlfriend, right?”

“oh, geeze the fact that you had to ask Zuko.”

“hey, I just wanted to make sure”

“shut up and kiss me Zuko.” he smiles while leaning in to kiss her. The two entering their own world again. Their kiss turns frantic fast, Zuko lifting Kianna, siting her on top of the island. 

“Kianna, I was promised pie and mov-“ Kianna and Zuko quickly break apart looking at Azula.

“well, this is not what I expected.” she smirks, they blush hard but not moving from there position. 

“what a happy Christmas.” Azula chuckles. She turns away and leaves the kitchen leaving the new couple to stare at her retreating form

A/n: ok story time, I was originally going to update on Monday, but I need a program downloaded to my Mac for school and while my dad worked on my Mac this week I decided to use my old ( pretty much half dead ) dell. big mistake on my part cause the dell gave me the biggest f u and all my work was gone. but that's ok cause I got my Mac back (never letting it go) and  I will be updating tomorrow and Sunday. school is starting for me soon so things might slow down but just so you guys know this series is coming to a end soon (I plan to post the last update in 2 weeks). ok anyway i’m going to stop rambling. I really apparicate the love and if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!!

Tag list: @snickerdoodleeee @fanficflaneuse @welovediaaxx @pyromanicschizophrenic @firedancer016

#Zuko x OC #zuko smau #zuko #atla zuko #atla smau #atla x oc #Avatar The Last Airbender

[peaky-arthur]

A long Day

Arthur Shelby X good life

A/N: this an alternative universe based on a post i made while longe and people asked me to write a fiction based on it. its imagine about arthur actually having a good life and a happy day where everyone is alive, its not gonna sound like arthur maybe a bit but its not tend to it's just a fun one :) hope u guys like it and im so sorry it took so long and feel free to tell me what u think xxx

GIF [CREDIT]

it was an early hour when Arthur woke up to the sound of his son billy voice, billy who is now 4 years found his way to his parent's bedroom and started to jump on his parents' bed. Arthur lazily stretched his hand to hold him and sit him closer to him, billy held tighter to his dad's leg and said with his sweet voice "dad are you up?". 

Arthur said with his sleepy tired voice "of course I'm up billy" as he started to rub his eyes with one hand and rubbing his son back with the other. Arthur couldn't help but notice that the other side of his bed was empty and he couldn't feel any movement in the house he sit on the bed with billy rushing to sit on his lap, he put his hand on his son golden hair and gave him a little smile "billy boy where is your mom eh?". "she told me to tell you she is going with aunt Polly" billy as said as he gave the sweetest smile "she also told me to tell you that she left a note on the dresser too". "oh, she did? go get it my boy" Arthur said as billy ran to go and bring the note to his dad. Arthur went back to laying on the bed waiting to the note. billy gave the note to his dad and climbed to the bed again to continue his jumping. "so when did your mom leave?" Arthur asked as he kept reading the note where she explains that she had to go with Polly and Arthur would have to take care of billy for the rest of the day. "umm just now, we had breakfast and then she sent me to wake you," he said while continuing his jumping session. Arthur moved his arm around him and moved him to his body as he stood up "let's get you away from here before you break the bed boy! its breakfast time" "but I already had breakfast dad," Billy said as he kept laughing and pushing his dad's arm "MY breakfast' Arthur said as he kept randomly moving billy in the air to keep him laugh.

after finishing his breakfast Arthur got ready to go to the garage her recently opened. he was always interested in fixing cars and owning a car garage was always a dream for him until last month. He wore one of his grey suits, a little fancy for his destination but he thought image always matter. He had no choice but to take billy with him, he put his little boy on one of the mini suits that he bought for him from London and took off. “I look just like you dad” Billy said as he held his dad’s hand “yes you do billy boy” Arthur respond with a smile on his face as he leads the way.

The garage was close to their home so Arthur always walked to there, the walk was filled with curios innocent questions from billy that Arthur always answered in a fun way or billy will just start singing some songs that he knows while running around his dad.

The second Arthur opened the garage door billy ran to sit on the chair and spinning it around, Arthur shook his head and then started to prepare the shop hoping that he will get some customers today.

After spending two hours with billy asking “when people come??” every two seconds and Arthur just getting so nervous because he doesn’t want to show like a bad businessman in front his son finally a car showed up . “good morning good sir, any problem” Arthur asked the man as he shook his hand “my car just make strange sounds, take a look on the engine” Arthur immediately removed his jacket, pointed to the man to sit in the empty seat next to billy, got the toolbox and slidded under the car. However, billy spent a full minutes scanning the man and then got up and slowly moved to the car his dad in under and sit close to his dad legs which is his only shown part, he started to play with the tool box that was close to him and pick up the parts and after studying them he would just place them wherever he feels like which was a problem to his dad who memorized the places of the tools. It made him slide to see to box every time he wanted to pick a new thing and he would give billy a small stare and billy would just smile and sit his tight his hand or hide his laugh. Luckily the customer was just busy with the newspaper that he brought with him. After checking the engine and tighten up some parts of the car Arthur decided to call it for the day. He closed the show way too early but he just felt it’s the right thing to do while billy was them and it started to show that he was getting bored. He wore his coat and locked the door “that’s it for the day billy lets go back home, you mum must be back now eh”.

Arthur arrived home to find his wife and aunt Polly drinking tea and chatting. Billy ran to hug his mum and she gave him a little kiss. “how was your day billy” she asked him as she looked at Arthur with a smile and he smiled back at her and gave her a fast kiss before pouring a cup of tea for himself too. “its was kinda fun, we fixed a car that made weirded noise” he said as he sat on her lap, “Oh you did, that’s good billy im proud of you” Arthur just looked at them with a smile on his face and a cup on his hand thinking about how he never thought that he will be this happy. “hey Arthur” polly said to him while she was sitting in the table “aberama asked me to write this list and give it to you, his best man” Arthur took it and scanned it “do we have a data for the wedding yet?” he asked while he started reading the paper “yes, its gonne be on march” Arthur node to her as she started to get ready to leave “and Arthur, call him when you got the time, DON’T FORGET” she said to him when she arrived at the door “alright Polly, goodbye”

Arthur and his wife returned to the kitchen to clean a bit as billy gripped one of the books he had and sit in the living room to read it. When they finished Arthur kissed his wife and held her by her waist as she said “how was your day” she asked him while she leaned her head on his shoulder “oh we got a talkative son, he talks a lot” he said with a smile and holding her closer to him “I don’t think we should let him stay with john anymore” he joked and she giggled a little. “alright I have to prepare a little something for you two to eat, billy must be hungry” he held her a little tighter before letting her go to look at her move around the kitchen before she said, “you should go and work on the painting that ada asked for”. Arthur just remembered that it's been a month since ada asked for the painting and he is still not over it. “oh you are right” he said before rushing to leave.

He entered the little art studio he had, the room was really small and cosy, his wife insisted on having after she knew from ada that Arthur used to draw very good when he was younger. Its been only a month since he had his little studio and ada got the first painting because his wife believes that she is the reason why he has it now. He stood in front of his little work which was a painting of a black Arabian horse that ada promised that she will hang it on her living room if she liked it even though it was not her style but she knew how Arthur is good in drawing horses and she wanted to encourage him. “alright let's finish this” Arthur said after taking a sip of his drink and gripping the colour palette and the brush to give the paint the final touches.

#i feel like its not good #but i wanted to this and git stressed lmao #hope u guys love it #arthur deserved this day #Arthur Shelby #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaks blinders #i just love arthur leave me alone

[bubblegumholland]

Queen Of Mean (2/?) (Peter Parker X Dark! Stark! Reader)

A/N Part two of “Queen of Mean” Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I got a lot of requests to make another part for this so we’ll see if this lived up to anyone's expectations. 

Warnings: Mental breakdown, fighting, death, cursing

Y/n tore apart her former room. The one her father helped her paint and furnish when she was fifteen. She glanced at the corkboard on the wall covered polaroids of her and Peter, she smiled longingly at the memories but shook her head. 

“That’s not who I am anymore.”

She pulled out a small box from under her bathroom sink. It was filled to the brim with different hair A dyes and bleaches. She had a habit of randomly dying her hair in high-school and she was pleased to see that Pepper hadn’t thrown out her supply. She grabbed a bottle of white/grey and a bottle of bleach and stuffed them in her bag. When she stood she caught her reflection in the mirror. She had deep bags under her eyes, her cheekbones a little more pronounced than four months ago. Her once lively eyes were now dull and lifeless. She didn’t recognize the person looking back at her. A wet substance hit her hand and it took her a moment to realize she was crying. A strangled sob escaped her lips and her knees buckled. She held the sink to balance herself, her hands grabbed a small metal object. Scissors. She brought the sharp and shiny object to her face. Another cry left her lips as the blade chopped through her hair unevenly. Her glassy eyes widened in surprise, she just chopped a chunk of hair off. 

“Too late to stop now.” She whispered clutching another section of hair, bringing the scissors up again. *SNIP* 

Another bunch hit the floor. She laughed breathlessly and cut off another piece. Every chunk cut off was a weight lifted it off her chest. Soon her hair, that was once as long as mid-waist, was now a choppy bob no longer than her shoulders. She dropped the scissors on the counter and strolled back into her old room, ignoring the mess she’d just made. She sighed opening her closet looking for more shirts and jackets. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here.” 

Y/n’s eyes widened and she spun around to face the beautiful redhead. 

“Hey, Mom.” Y/n smiled cautiously, shouldering her duffle bag

Pepper smiled sadly at her stepdaughter. “You look lost,” she commented. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” the brunette’s eyes hardened. 

“I miss my little girl,” the widow admitted stepping forward. 

The teenager stepped back, “I’m not sorry, she’s long gone. But you have Morgan now, you don’t need me.” 

Pepper’s eyebrows creased, “I still love you, you’re still my daughter.” 

“You’re not my mother, Pepper!” Y/n shouted, “My mom didn’t want me! She left me to a man she didn’t even know, some fuck buddy who knocked her up! She left me, dad left me, Peter left me! So, what’s the point in caring if everyone just leaves.” 

Tears streamed down Pepper’s face, “I’m sorry.”

Y/n shook her head, “It’s too late for sorry.”

She jumped out the window she originally entered through and disappeared into the night. Leaving her mother figure heartbroken. 

_________

Y/n’s blue suit landed at her base on the outskirts of the city. Her gasping breaths shallow as tears clogged her throat. The suit retracted from her form and she stumbled out on the floor. Her cries echoed on the stone walls, pain evident in her voice.

“I don’t know what to do…” She whimpered curling up on her makeshift bed. 

“I could help with that,” a voice from behind startled her.

Her suit responded quickly and attached to her arm fast enough for her to aim at the intruder. A man in a green and gold suit with a red cape. 

“Quentin Beck,” the distressed girl recognized, her arm not faltering. 

My handsome man smiled, “Hello, Y/n.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blast you through the wall,” Stark threatened. 

“Because I’ll help you get back at Parker.” Beck tempted.

Y/n hesitantly lowered her arm, “What do you want to do to him?”

“The kid has good spirit, but he is ruining all of my plans. With your brains and my technology we can bring the world to its knees.” He persuaded.

“What do I have to do?”

, 

__________

Peter scouted the abandoned factory, his footsteps light and quiet in an attempt to go undiscovered. Of course, that would just be too convenient for the poor boy.

“Oh hey, Peter.” Mysterio’s voice spoke.

Peter whirled around to face the mastermind, “Beck! What are you up to now?” 

“Oh, Spider-Boy, don’t you mean “what are we up to?”

Peter’s eyes widened as a feminine frame appeared from the shadows. Although her body donned a black leather cat-suit and her hair was now a silvery-white, Peter couldn’t mistake the hazel eyes behind the mask. 

“Y/n…” He whispered. 

“Hello, Peter. Nice to see you again.” Her voice was just as venomous as before. 

Before Peter could reply a beam from Mysterio’s hands flashed towards him. He dodged as his senses tingled and his reflexes kicked in. Beam after beam assaulted the teenager but he was quicker. He shot webs at the psychopath in attempts to delay him but was quite futile. Peter overestimated his footing and stumbled to the ground, and loud charging noise was made and Peter braced himself, but the fatal blast never came.

“What are you doing?” Quentin’s words were broken. 

Peter opened his eyes to see his ex wearing the E.D.I.T.H. glasses, with all the droids pointed, but not as him, at Beck. 

“Like I would’ve ever let you hurt Peter,” Y/n said. 

“You betrayed me-” 

“Everyone get’s betrayed, Beck, I’m surprised you’re just now learning that.”  She stated.

A shot rang from a droid and sunk into Mysterio’s head. His body hit the floor with a loud thud. 

“Oh my god, y/n!” Peter shouted in horror, “You-you killed him!”

“He was going to kill you, Peter. And I hate you but I couldn’t let him do that.” Her chopped hair swayed as she walked closer. Peter scrambled back. 

“I-No-You-”

“I know Peter, but think of it as a goodbye.”

“What?” He rushed to his feet. 

“I’m done, Peter, I can’t do anything of this shit anymore.”

“Y/n I can help you, this isn’t you, I know who you are!”

“How can you know who I am when I don’t even know!” She snapped. 

“Y/n, you don’t have to do this,” Peter begged.

“You don’t even know what I’m doing. I’m not going to be Y/n Stark “Iron Girl” anymore. I don’t need the suit anymore, I can do anything I want without it. And with Mysterio gone, there’s no one standing in my way. I may have saved you this time Parker, but cross me again and I can’t promise I will again.” 

“I’m so sorry for everything Y/n-”

“Oh, I know you’re sorry. And soon, they’ll all be sorry. I will rule this city, I will bring it to its knees. And you’re fooling yourself if you think you can stop me. Because the only I’m going down is in a body bag.”

Y/n pressed a button on her bracelet shooting a small device onto Peter’s suit, in his strive to remove it buzz was sent through his body and his unconscious form hit the floor. 

“Goodbye, Peter. Until next time…”

I went ahead and made a taglist of everyone who wanted a second part:

@im-a-deceptikhan @xximaweirdoxx​ @aspiring-fangirls-world​ @kissingtrutharchives​ @grimlusia​ @deartomholland​ @kii-miii 

#Peter Parker X Reader #Peter Parker #Tom Holland #Tom Holland X Reader #Tony Stark X Daughter Reader #Marvel #Black Cat #Mysterio #Quentin Beck #Tony Stark #Angst #Bubblegum Holland #BubblegumHolland #Queen of Mean #She's gone

[flowerbeom]

What I Wouldn’t Give | Part 1: The Right Fit

Im Jaebeom x Female!Reader

Genre: Stylist AU. Fluff. Eventual Smut 

Warnings: Some swearing. 

Words: 3.2k

Concept:  A story where a heartsick, pining and ‘hopelessly in love with his stylist’ Jaebeom finds himself in an awkward situation in the house of the stylist who’s equally heart sick and hopelessly in love with him. But neither of them know… yet.

A/N: Please do enjoy soft, nervous Jae - one of his stronger forms. Chapter links will be in masterlist once all posted. 

Part 1: The Right Fit

Part 2: The Wrap Party

Part 3: Home

Song Mood: Sunny Days, Summer Nights by Sam Kim 

You had always hated the title 'Junior Stylist'. You hated the instant prejudice you would see in someone's eye when you were introduced, as if you couldn’t hold a candle to someone ‘senior’. You knew your skills were bar none and your eye for detail would be the very thing that would solidify your place in this industry. So, you were patient, working under creative directors and doing scut work until your fingers bled just so you would be seen; seen as worthy. 

And one day, you got it; you got your chance. You were pulled aside by the department lead and told you had been assigned to a debuting rookie group and their leader. Working in a small team, you would lead their style direction for the duration of their contract. They would be your avenue to explore your artistry, and he would be your canvas. But Im Jaebeom proved to be a challenge; to dress and for your heart. 

Era: Girls Girls Girls 

“Just put the damn jacket on, Jaebeom.” a face to face standoff played out in the middle of the dressing room, a clenched fist crushed the leather jacket in your hand; Jaebeom squaring you down. Hands lazily resting in his pockets, he tilted his head; the narrow in his eyes mirroring yours. Everyone had cleared the room only to leave Jackson sitting in the corner, mildly entertained by the stalemate he stole glances of over the top of his phone. 

“It’s not really my style.” Jaebeom sneered, smoothing an index finger over the sharp edge of his jaw. Closing the space between you, your eyebrow quirked when Jaebeom’s guard broke for a second; his eyes jolting open, neck flaring - your closeness rattling him momentarily. 

“Okay, leader-nim, let’s see what JYP’s opinion on the matter would be.” He forced his tongue through gritted teeth, chin jutting out; vexed. 

Shoving the garment into his tensed torso, you paused, “Or..” swallowing down the lump your heart had thrown into your throat, “You can put on the jacket.” 

He scoffed, visibly impressed with your tenacity but annoyed all the same. Hand quick to grip your wrist, his eyes wavered; darting from your intense stare to his hand back to your eyes. The sudden shot of electricity that passed through both of you knocked you both out of your stupor, Jaebeom quickly pulling the jacket from your grasp while you stumbled back, shoving both your hands into your back pockets. 

“You-you know, it’s not that.. Bad. I mean.. It’s okay.” Jaebeom stuttered, pressing down the collar, staring at himself in the mirror to avoid staring at you. Drawing in a deep breath before stepping to him, you arranged the jacket to sit better on his broad shoulders. 

“Seriously, are you for real.... “ Bewildered with the distance your hands had to travel to smooth out the jacket you failed to hear Jaebeom throw a question your way. Still playing with the jacket, you missed his voice again before he spun around, leaving your hands to rest on his collar bones, his face far too close for comfort. 

“What?” 

“Huh?” Shaken, you snapped your hands away from him, stepping back. 

“Before, you said was I “for real”, what was that all about?” Words catching in your throat, Jaebeom’s fingers fiddled with the zip on his jacket, eyes softer than before. 

“I-- ahh, well..” Your hand buried into your nape, rubbing the back of your neck as if it’d provide the right answer. 

“Two minute call!” Both your heads whipped to the door, the runner poking in to get the boys to head to the stage. Your eyes slowly met, unspoken words hung in the air; his knuckles brushing over yours as he stepped past you, both your breath hitching at the touch. Fuck. 

Era: Just Right

Watching the performance from the dressing room, Jaebeom’s smile seem to radiate through the television; the joy it exuded filled your chest with a warmth you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it felt comforting. Unlike their previous comebacks, this one was lighter, filled with zest and cheer and dressing them as such was enjoyable to say the least. 

You debated how far you could take the concept, and how irritated Jaebeom would be as you made him try on outfit after outfit; but the utter look of happiness on their faces as they performed live was enough to quell those doubts. 

You hadn’t noticed just how widely you were smiling, or how your shoulders were bopping to the music that swirled around the room. Hana watched you from the side, analysing your face as she steamed a shirt. 

“What are you giggling about?” Pulled from your trance, you turned to your assistant; her quirked eyebrow enough to draw a sigh from your mouth. Your smile had dropped.

“It’s a fun song.” Picking up a shirt, you folded it carefully; placing into the crate, packing up to leave.

“We both know it’s not the song.” You wanted to slap the smirk off her face. “It’s Jaebeom.”

“What?!” 

“What what?! Tell me you don’t like him.” You wanted to slap her, smirk or not. Hana put down the steamer and caught your wrists before your hands could muzzle her. 

“Shhhh, shut up. What are you talking about? Stop it.” You were shaking, completely unprepared to be called out. 

“Ever since you put him in ripped jeans and a bomber jacket you’ve had heart eyes for the guy. Your ears prick when you hear his voice and you can smell his cologne from a hundred metres away. I swear I can hear your heart thump when he stands next to you.” You had lowered your hands, shoving them in your pockets; your lips were screwed into your cheek. You had nothing to say. 

“Have nothing to say?” Hana poked a finger into your shoulder. She was right. You had denied it when feelings for him started to stir in your gut and slapped down butterflies that flitted too closely to your heart. Jaebeom had etched his name onto your skin every time he grazed you, and you had lost the fight not to let it happen. 

“Let’s just pack up, okay.” Hana saw the acceptance in your eyes and said no more. But it wasn’t going to stop her from pushing you tell him how you feel, one day. Could be a day way off in the distance, but one day. 

Era: New Era

Dinner. Dinner was all that was on Jaebeom’s mind as he exited the elevator. Yours on the other hand was figuring out how to not lose your job. The stress that wreaked havoc on your face was enough to strip any thoughts of food when Jaebeom found you curled into yourself as he entered the hotel lobby. Back pressed to the wall, knees pressed to your chest, heel of your palm pressed to your forehead, phone pressed to your ear. 

Jaebeom crouched down in front of you, placing a timid hand on your knee to bring your eyes up to his. The crease between your eyebrows didn’t soften, but only transferred to etch between his. 

“Yep, yep - no, I understand. Yes.. yes. I’ll figure it out.” Hanging up the call, you placed your phone on the ground before burying your face into your hands. 

“What’s wrong?” Jaebeom’s voice was sweet, stained with concern and helped you breathe again. Pulling your hands down your face, you met Jaebeom’s eyes; his gentle, yours bloodshot. 

“The crate. The crate with all your clothes for this entire week of schedules. No one knows where it is. It's not in Seoul. It's not here. For all we know it fell off the plane mid transit and got eaten by a whale. No one knows!" You were rambling, and Jaebeom listened, kindly; intently. Your face returned to pool into your shaking palms, an exhausted groan muffled into your skin. 

“Argh, I have to go out and buy an entirely new wardrobe tonight. I have to practically stampede around Tokyo flashing credit cards like a crazy person. And Hana isn’t even here to help. What am I going to do?” Violently raking your fingers through your hair, you slapped your phone off the ground.

“I’ll come with you. I’ll help.” Eyes shooting up, sincerity was all that was painted on Jaebeom’s face. Holding out his hand, you gingerly took it; letting him help you stand. 

“Wh-why?” The question trembled off your lips before they haphazardly blew back the hair that had fallen over your face. Jaebeom tried his best not to giggle, composing himself with a hand rubbed under his nose. 

Trying not to risk sounding cheesy by sprouting out a line like “I don’t like seeing you stressed” or “I’d drop anything to help you out, because I just want to see you smile again”, despite it all being true, Jaebeom opted for reason.

“I have to make sure things go well. Fix problems, solve dilemmas, save the world. Leader things, you know.” 

And trying not to seem desperate by saying something like “I was hoping you’d say that” or “You’re the only one I need right now”, despite it all being true, you opted for logic. 

"Sounds good to me.” 

The static that buzzed between you as you explored Harajuku was palpable. The little knocks of hands against hands, or brushes of shoulders against shoulders drowned words in your throats and striped air from your lungs. The stolen looks over clothes racks and hidden smiles behind turned backs kept the thought of possible unemployment far from your mind as Jaebeom insisted on carrying every bag and constantly reassured you that everything was going to be okay. 

And it was, because he was with you. He even bought dinner. 

Era: Lullaby 

No one, not even Mark with his acrobatics or Bambam with his five hundred diverse dabs a day, could rip through their pants as well as Jaebeom could. Whether it was the inner stitching on the thigh, or the buttons that held it all together, you were always sewing up his pants back stage. 

At one point it stopped being annoying and became somewhat therapeutic. The small embarrassed smile on Jaebeom’s face as he handed over another pair of pants to repair was enough to bring the quiet joy you needed to sit in the corner and pull out a needle and thread. The simple offering of his sincere apology as he bit his lip was payment enough, no matter how many times he offered to buy you bubble tea for your efforts. Though you always found one tucked behind your bag before you left for the night. 

But alas, his pants still needed fixing and that’s exactly where you found yourself, sitting cross legged in the corner; hunched over a pair of black trousers, one headphone wedged in your ear. Singing along quietly to their new album as you pulled thread carefully through fabric; your fingers worked skilfully to fix Jaebeom’s mishap.

“Hyung, you’re staring.” Jaebeom sighed as he tipped his temple to rest against the door frame, Jinyoung meeting his side; handing him an iced coffee. 

“I know.” Replying through an exhale, he sunk lower into the door frame; lifting the straw to his lips. 

“She’s just sewing on a button.” Matter of fact, Jinyoung spoke before taking a sip of his chai latte. 

“Exactly, she’s just sewing on a button and I can’t stop staring.” Jinyoung cupped Jaebeom’s shoulder, a reassuring grip of his fingers made Jaebeom drop his head back. Peeling himself off the door frame, he spun on his heels; walking away from the room, away from you. 

“Are you ever going to tell her?” Jinyoung queried, hand still resting on Jaebeom’s shoulder. 

“No..” Jaebeom’s face slowly crumpled.

“No?” Jaebeom winced further at Jinyoung’s sharp tone.

“As if I could…” Unwilling to argue, Jinyoung merely offered Jaebeom a consoling pat on the back. There was no use debating the issue with him, he would simply deny the possibility of you ever loving him back; even if it was the furthest thing from the truth. 

Era: Focus On Me

You kept stealing glances from across the room. Straight back, head down, eyes burrowed into a book; Jaebeom had read for most of the day. Saved for the moments he spent with a make-up brush in his face, or limbs sliding into clothes you had curated for him; Jaebeom willingly lost himself in the world found on those pages, rather than the anxiety swirling in his mind. 

Lingering looks from over your shoulder were enough for Hana to flick your forehead with a harsh snap of her middle finger. Her pursed lips and narrow eyes drew you from your longing and back onto the earrings you were fiddling with. A violent shake of your head knocked you into focus.

“Jaebeom-ah, can you-- “ Holding the earrings in the palm of your hand, you turned to step to him; the wide expanse of his back momentarily distracting you; your step faltered before continuing to approach him. 

“Hmm, huh?” Looking down at the book cradled in his gentle hands, you saw no less than ten pages left for him to finish, and upon tilting your head to look into his eyes, you saw them furiously scanning the text; his face blank with fixation. 

You debated doing what you were about to, knowing you would regret it the second you touched him. Knowing how fast your heart would race, and how red your ears would turn; but call time was approaching and you needed him to be ready. Swallowing down a shaky breath, you tipped at the hip; leaning down to his shoulder. 

“I’ll just put these on for you, okay. Finish your book.” Merely a whisper, said too close to his ear; your breath fanned across his skin and you thought you heard him hitch. Taking his earlobe gently between your fingers, you swore you saw him flinch, his body tensing at the sudden touch. 

Holding the pin of the earring, you gripped his ear slightly tighter, “Don’t move, I don’t want to hurt you.” Jaebeom slowly exhaled, his body leaning back into the chair. You could feel your heartbeat on your skin; goosebumps pricked your arms and you were thankful your sleeves were hiding them. What you didn’t notice were the hairs on Jaebeom’s neck standing, or the vein in his temple flaring, or that he has stopped reading all together. 

After securing one earring, you put on another; spinning them so they sat just right. You also didn’t notice Jaebeom staring at you in the mirror, his eyes following you as you rounded the chair to place earrings onto his other ear. You were too busy trying to breathe.

You had been close before, but this, this was intimate.  You wanted to run, sprint into a closet and cower in the corner because you hated how much he affected you. Be professional. Yes, but it was hard when the person you worked with had your heart in his hand. 

“Two minutes!” You and Jaebeom whipped your heads to the door, the runner amused at this common occurrence. You stepped back, allowing Jaebeom to push back his chair. He slipped his arms into the jacket Hana held out for him and turned to the mirror. Eyeing the earrings you had ever so gently placed on him, his thumb lifted to slide down the chain of one of them and smiled before catching your eye in the mirror. 

He left the room not nearly quick enough for you to catch your breath, humming to himself and singing as he trailed down the hall. Hana was by your side and screwing an elbow into your waist before you could bring yourself down from the cloud his smile put you on. 

“So, are you going to let him?” Forehead creasing, eyebrow cocked; your face met hers with confusion. 

“Have you not listened to him this entire time?” Leaning against the make-up bench, Hana crossed her arms, one finger tapping impatiently against her forearm.

“What are you talking about?” 

“Are you going to let him? Let him love you?” Your hands slapped onto the chair in front of you and pushed it violently into Hana’s knees. She cursed and you cursed back, but she insisted that he was singing to you. That this entire debut, unit, album was him trying to confess to you. 

Ludicrous, improbable, utterly absurd; but as you watched him on the waiting room television, you entertained the notion for a second. That the way he was staring into the camera was how he wanted to stare at you. But you slapped yourself before you fell into that fantasy; hard enough for Yugyeom to ask what happened to your cheek when they came back. 

Era: Eclipse

[12:21pm] Y/N Stylist: What bet did you lose? 

[12:22pm] Jaebeom-Ssi: What do you mean?! I look good!

[12:25pm] Y/N Stylist: 1.That beret is for Bam’s Allure shoot. 2. I’m not even going to ask how you got it out of storage. 3. You look like an idiot.

[12:31pm] Jaebeom-Ssi: Perhaps. But I made you forget about that asshole from Div 3, didn’t I? Humour me, I totally rock it better than Bam.

[12:52pm] Y/N Stylist: Have a safe flight, Beom.  

Safe in the knowledge that he made you smile, Jaebeom slid his phone back into his pocket. Leaning back into his seat, he stretched his arms out; yawning as his muscles loosened before Mark slipped in beneath his arm. Nuzzling into Jaebeom’s side, Mark smiled cheekily as Jaebeom coiled his arm back, pushing him off playfully. 

“Excited to go home?” Mark cooed, Jaebeom raised a questioning brow. 

“We haven’t even left yet.”

“Yeh, but are you excited to come home?” Jaebeom’s face crumpled into confusion, mouth opening in question, palms up-turned: puzzled. 

“The wrap party, you idiot!” Mark jutted his shoulder into Jaebeom’s.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jaebeom sighed. “I’ve been called an idiot too many times today. But why are you talking about the wrap party now?” 

“Y/N.” Whispered, a little too closely into Jaebeom’s ear. Jaebeom’s silence edged Mark on.  

“Y/N will be there.” Mark smirked watching Jaebeom’s eyes widen.

“Everyone will be there.” Jaebeom spat out, trying to mask the excitement that stirred in his stomach.

Mark shimmied in his seat, clearing his throat teasingly. “Y/N never comes to wrap parties. But suddenly she’s coming to this one.” 

“And?” Jaebeom cocked his head, cracking a single bone is his neck; not nearly enough to alleviate his tension. 

“She’ll be there, potentially all dressed up - having a drink or two, dancing - maybe dancing with you, if you ask her to, this could be your chance. Who knows-” Jaebeom cut him off, standing suddenly and ripping his bag off the seat. 

“Who knows if she’ll even be there. Come on, we have to board now.” Shaking his head through a laugh, Mark watched Jaebeom storm off, visibly irked by the notion of acting on any of his feelings. By now, everyone knew your shared pining had developed into deep seated, intense, full blown 'I'd risk it all for you' love, but no one knew what exactly was taking you both so long to actually risk it all. Maybe all you needed was a nudge and a bit of liquid courage. 

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