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nostalgicamerica · 11 months

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True story:

When I was a young teenager I truly lived a blessed life thanks to my mother and father. I never really wanted for anything. All my needs and most of my wants were met, I felt loved, I had a warm bed, and I never went hungry. I had more than I deserved and certainly more than most.

So I felt a little guilty to feel a longing inside me that seemed to grow with time. Eventually, the yearning crowded out all other passions (with the possible exception being Maija Saaronen, but that's a story for another time). That longing was to have a dog of my own.

To be sure, we already had a dog, but Musta, a black lab, was the family dog. He belonged to everyone, and by the time I pushed through puberty, Musta was already old and spent most of his time on his bed, snoring and farting.

To be honest, I loved Musta as much as the rest of my family did, but he wasn't mine. Besides, his hips and joints were too sore for him to hike the rivers with me, and on cold or rainy nights he was as likely to curl up with any of my other siblings as me.

I repeatedly talked to my parents about getting my own dog and the answer was invariably, "No." Or, "They are too expensive and money is tight as it is and if we let you get a dog, then all of the kids will want one of their own and we'll be overrun with dogs." Or, "You can't have a dog because we are evil and we want you to be as miserable as possible." Well, that last one I made up, but that is how I read their refusals.

Even the promise to pay for everything myself fell on deaf ears. I had my paper route. No. I could mow lawns and shovel snow and do other odd jobs to raise money. No. I'll not shirk my chores around the house anymore. That's what you're supposed to do anyway, and no.

I think Dad had more sympathy for my yearnings than Mom did, because he only acquiesced to her refusal. I don't recall him ever putting his foot down like Mom, and after one particular defeat at the hands of the 'No-Dog-For-You-I-Don't-Care-How-Miserable- You- Are-Woman' who professed to love me, Dad followed me from the kitchen and, gripping my shoulder in his large hand, he winked and whispered, "Don't give up, buddy. Life has a way of getting us what we truly want."

So I wandered through my days essentially dogless. Most of my friends and acquaintances had dogs, if not their own, at least their dogs had the decency to occasionally act like it. Here comes Eino with his beagle trotting along beside him. There goes Skunk with his Dachshund/Chihuahua yipping at his heels. I don't know who that kid is, but he has a dog, too.

Darned near every family had a dog that the boys in the family could do things with. Even the meanest local bully, Mikko Aho, had his own dog, a German Shepherd cross named Daisy that was just as mean as her owner. Daisy easily topped 120 pounds and, although she was getting long in the tooth, she still made my bowels loosen whenever I saw her, whether she was on a lead or not.

Fortunately for the rest us - not so much for him - Mikko, a few years older than me, had recently begun his life-long love affair with alcohol, so Daisy spent her days chained up in the Aho's back yard. Periodically she would get bored, break her chain, and wander around looking for somebody to bite, which usually wound up being a child or defenseless grandmother working in her garden.

As a general rule, I didn't believe there were bad dogs; just bad owners. Poor Daisy had been raised to be a kusipää by and like her owner.

July and August came and went with no movement from Mom despite my best efforts to wear her down. With September came my fourteenth birthday, school, and cooler, rainier weather.

I was a freshman that year. A new school filled with new challenges, new classmates, and, of course, new girls. I didn't dislike school, generally speaking, I just disliked the feeling of being jailed.

Never an academic, I did well enough in English, Literature, Civics, and History, but I never got along with Math and the sciences. Those two thugs would wait for me every afternoon at home in my room and taunt me and my lack of mental acuity. I always managed to squeak by those courses, but it was always a knock-down free-for-all to even manage a C.

To this day, if somebody asks me what endoplasmic reticulum is, as a general rule, I punch them in the face. And in well over 50 years I've never once had to solve a quadratic equation. But apparently, to continue on into my adulthood, these subjects were a rite of passage.

I can't remember the first time I saw him. I was getting off the bus after school and happened to glance behind the general store and saw a scruffy, black and white dog pulling at a garbage bag. The mongrel was dirty and looked emaciated and only glanced at me warily when I whistled for it. I didn't see a collar.

When I approached, the dog sidled away and whined at my impertinence in disturbing the meal it just knew was in the black plastic bag. The dog took one last wistful look at the trash bag and slipped into the waist-high weeds at the rear of the parking lot.

I dug out the remnants of my lunch and left half of a liverwurst sandwich and a couple of cookies at the edge of the pavement where the dog had disappeared and headed for home and the dreaded algebra homework I had facing me that night.

Over the next couple of weeks I saw the stray a few more times, usually scrounging for food, and looking forlorn. Each time I tried to coax it to come to me I was met with failure. The dog, who, my brother opined was the filthiest dog he'd ever seen and bestowed the name Lika (short for Likainen) on, was as skittish about me as I was about polynomials.

Lika, was unlike any dog I had ever dreamed of owning, but even a mongrel was better than no dog at all, and I was sure I could convince Mom to let me keep it if I could convince it to follow me home.

One Saturday near the end of September heralded the arrival of that most glorious of natural phenomenon - Indian Summer. One last taste of summer and a brief and wonderful reprieve from the winter that was headed our way.

By the time our chores were done the mercury was nudging up against 70, and my brother and I decided to head to the river for a few Rainbow or Brown. We threw a few sandwiches in a bag, grabbed our gear and headed for the trailhead.

Our day turned out beautiful; an azure and cloudless sky, yellow, orange, and red foliage everywhere we looked, and the river was almost languid. We wound up getting skunked, but that was no matter. My motto was - and is - a bad day fishing is better than a good day doing almost anything else.

Walking home through town, I saw Lika again. The dog didn't immediately dart away when I approached but it was cautious. I extended one of the remaining sandwiches to it and crouched down to make myself smaller.

Ever so slowly Lika inched closer, the liverwurst acting like a magnet to an empty stomach. Up close I could see Lika was a male and that he was terrified. But his hunger was stronger than his fear, and delicately, he took the triangle-cut meal of home-baked bread, liverwurst, and horseradish and skittered back a few feet. I watched him wolf the sandwich down, his eyes never wavering from mine.

My brother just laughed, "You know Mom's going to flip out if you manage to convince that kirppupussi to follow you home." My brother always was smarter than me, but I ignored his negativity. "I just gotta get him there. She'll come around."

Lika looked like he was ready for a nap. Up close I couldn't see anything wrong with him. He just needed a bath and a few meals to fix what ailed him. And a boy to call his own. And maybe some flea powder. He was a medium-sized dog, maybe forty pounds or so, a patchwork black and white but so dirty the white looked brown.

When my brother and I resumed our trek home, Lika did follow us, to a fashion. He stayed about 10 yards behind us, stopping occasionally as if unsure about the bipedal creature who gave him food. As we turned down our street and I whistled to encourage Lika, he stopped at the corner and wouldn't come any closer.

The following morning, after breakfast, my mother gave me a dollar and sent me to the general store for a bag of flour. Almost immediately, Lika emerged from the ditch at the side of the road and cautiously approached me. I sat down on the shoulder and waited as he nervously edged closer.

His tail was slowly wagging. Whether it was me, or the scent of the breakfast sausage I had squirreled away in the front pocket of my overalls, I'm not sure, but it didn't matter. The little black and white stray stopped within arm's length and sat down, looking at me expectantly.

He shied away when I reached into my overall pocket but showed renewed interest when I eased the napkin out and unrolled one of the venison links. I broke off a small piece and held it in the palm of my hand and I almost squealed like a school girl when Lika leaned forward and took it from me.

I could almost see gratitude on his face as he ate one chunk of sausage after another until, with a silent gesture I held up my hands to him, fingers splayed. I wondered if he could smell Musta on me or it was something else because he recoiled away when I tried to pet him.

"It's okay, buddy." I grinned, "I have time."

Lika followed me to the store, waited in the parking lot as I went in and was still waiting when I came out with a five pound bag of flour on my shoulder and a couple of coins jingling in my pocket.

The two blocks home found Lika shadowing me close enough for our morning shadows to almost touch on the dirt road. I talked to him softly, almost whispering, and tried to avoid sudden movements. My confidence and joy were growing with each step. What I would do about Mom and her 'no dog' edict eluded me. I figured I'd cross that bridge when I got to it.

I spent the rest of that week sneaking food to the dog in the mornings and after school, while trying to avoid Mom's scrutiny, as well as that of my older sisters who would likely rat me out, depending on their mood. Musta wasn't eating much by that time so I was able to swipe some of his kibble, and I could always slide a hot dog, or some kielbasa, or pork chop from my plate into a pocket.

The problem was, the days were creeping towards October and the nights were getting cold. I couldn't let Lika fend for himself. I thought about hiding him in the basement where at least he'd be warm, but Mom kept her canned goods there and I could imagine the fun ensuing if Mom or one of my sisters tripped over the dog.

The best solution I could find was the dilapidated tool shed behind the garage. The shed was no longer used for anything, it listed badly to the south, had large cracks between nearly every board, and it survived only because Dad always told Mom he'd tear it down as soon as he got the chance. To that point the chance never presented itself.

But cardboard would block most of the holes and keep my new dog out of the wind, and a quilt I stole from the attic would make a decent bed.

Lika wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the accommodations but the shed was better than bedding down in the open. It would work for awhile until I could figure something else or wear down Mom.

The real problem I faced was I couldn't be at home every moment of the day. I had school and my paper route and other chores that would take me away from my dog, and hockey season was bearing down. On top of it all, Lika didn't seem overly concerned about being discovered.

I considered asking one of my friends to keep him until I broke Mom but immediately discarded the idea; all my friends already had dogs, larger families than my own, or both. The shed was the best I could do.

By mid-October, the stray was no longer a stray. He was mine; I was his. His whole body would wriggle insanely at my approach and his tail would wag so violently it would create a ruckus banging against the side of the shed. He would let me pet and hold him and for hours, when I wasn't in school, we'd lay on the quilt and talk to each other.

I had no way to bathe him - the weather was too cold to use the garden hose, so I tried a few wet towels, which helped a bit, but he needed a bath in the worst way. He smelled worse than a week old and well-used gym sock.

January and February are typically the coldest months of any year on the Keweenaw Peninsula. The year I turned fourteen, however, October reminded us that we were closer to Canada than Mexico and tossed us a surprise; a week before Halloween a storm rolled through that dropped over 20 inches of snow and, after the front passed, the temperature plummeted.

I was in a panic about what to do about my dog. It was already 10 degrees and the radio breathlessly informed us that we could expect sub-zero temps overnight.

I didn't care if I got caught, when our parents weren't paying attention, I was going to bring Lika into the basement. It was then I learned one of those lessons that usually seemed to pass right over my head.

I was getting frantic and Mom always seemed to be underfoot. "Go knit a sweater or dust something." I pleaded with her in my head. Usually Mom was always dusting or cleaning as if the Pope was going to drop by. Maybe she sensed something wrong, or she decided the pretense was over.

She touched my shoulder as I was pulling on my boots and smiled gently. "Why don't you bring your dog into the mud room?"

I just stared at her in disbelief. "You knew?"

I could hear Dad laughing in the family room, "Honey, we've known since the first day you brought him home. You can't put anything past us, besides," She smiled, "He isn't exactly stealthy. That little guy waits everyday in the middle of the yard for you to get home from school. Besides," she smiled again, "Your little bothers have been playing with him for weeks."

As I raced out the door to get Lika and his quilt, Mom yelled at me, "He can only be in the mud room and it is just temporary."

So Lika moved indoors where it was warm, and where there was no shortage of little people willing to bestow hugs and belly rubs and snot on him. He stayed in the mud room on his quilt for a few days and then we began testing Mom by letting him in the family room for a few minutes until she yelled.

A warm bath with Ivory soap worked miracles. His black was inky and his white patches glowed. He was still scruffy, but he was clean. A steady diet packed a few pound onto his frame and his eyes seemed to leak the happy he had been missing. A visit to the vet two towns down the road confirmed Lika was healthy and about two years old, and although the veterinarian suspected a terrier-husky mix, he really wasn't sure.

Over time Lika warmed to everyone. My siblings couldn't leave him alone and I even caught Dad feeding him and rubbing his head. Even Musta welcomed Lika and acted like a puppy when Lika approached his bed in the family room. Mom, though, kept her distance.

She often said the dog had to go in the spring when the snow melted and it was warm. She was insistent that we could easily find a good family that would be happy to give him a home, especially since he was so well behaved and quiet.

She was right. Lika was nothing if not quiet. In the entire time he was capturing my heart, I had never heard him bark.

Things went that way for awhile.

I once overheard Mom telling Dad about how she couldn't help noticing how responsible I was becoming in taking Lika for walks every day, feeding him on schedule, and cleaning up his lawn mines after he did his business. She showed Dad her tally book showing my payments for his food and the vet bill and she was smiling. It made me feel good inside, and I was sure she was coming around.

By the time Christmas showed up, Lika had moved in with Musta and they shared Musta's bed like two old friends. Their food bowls were side by side. In a testament to the size of his heart, Lika would walk by the old dog's side until they reached the bowls and he wouldn't eat until his new friend began.

Mom had ceased threatening eviction for Lika and on more than one occasion I caught her slipping him a scrap of ham or bacon. She hadn't said he could stay, but at least she wasn't proclaiming from the rooftop he was gone.

One January night, I was wakened by a cold dog nose on my back. It was probably around two am and I had been sound asleep. Groggy, unable to focus, I tried to roll over and go back to whatever dream I had been involved with; around that time it likely would have involved Maija. Again, a cold nose.

I rolled over and sat up. Lika was sitting on the floor at the edge of my bed just looking up at me. In the dark, I assumed he just wanted to snuggle with me and I held up the blankets. He stood up and moved halfway to the door, looking back at me.

I lay back down and my dog came back to the bed and raising up on the edge, he gently nudged my leg. He waited as I reluctantly rolled out of bed and then led me out into the hallway. Silently he led me down to the first floor and into the family room. Lika almost looked sorrowful in the dark as he walked up to Musta and looked down at him.

Sometime in the night Musta slipped his leash on life and quietly slipped away. I knelt by his side and held Lika and together we said goodbye to a good boy.

February, March, and April visited awhile and departed without fanfare, leaving May to set up camp. It was unseasonably warm for May and most of the snow was gone save for the plow piles and those were nearly melted. On the last Sunday of the month my youngest brother turned six.

Mom always celebrated her brood, and even after 13 kids, she still went out of her way to ensure our birthdays were memorable. That meant a party for the birthday boy and several of his friends from school and the neighborhood.

So after church services, a group of boys feted my youngest brother outside at our house. The day was certainly warm enough for the gathering to be held outside, but I mostly think my parents just couldn't tolerate to have eight or nine 6- and 7-year olds under their roof.

The kids were roughhousing in the backyard as young boys do, laughing, and crying, and picking their noses, Mom and one of my sisters were shepherding the group, and Dad was in the garage working on his truck. Lika was laying in the yard in the shade of one of the Maple trees probably trying to decide if he should join the festivities, or find somewhere to hide.

I was in the bathroom doing my business, reading an article in the Culture and Entertainment section of the Sunday paper about some actor (Ronald Coleman, if my questionable memory serves) who had passed away a week previous. I happened to glance out the window towards the street and saw Daisy skulking along the ditch, dragging a length of chain in the dirt. Even from where I sat I could see her attention seemed riveted on the gaggle of boys and Mom, who were all oblivious.

I raised up off the commode, slid up the window and yelled as loudly as I could in warning. Dad, stepping out of the garage, heard me, and saw Daisy. I've never seen Dad move as fast as he did at that moment. He brandished a tire iron as a weapon and sprinted towards Daisy who had decided she was going to gnaw on a few limbs and was running towards the eighteen legs, all ripe biting targets. From where I watched, petrified, my butt bare and still unwiped, I could see Dad wasn't going to be fast enough.

I watched in disbelief as a grey streak passed Dad and slammed broadside into Daisy, knocking her off course and off kilter. My little dog was full of righteous fury and tore into the much bigger dog, jaws snapping at her legs and neck, snarling like a banshee.

Daisy tried to put up a defense and bit at the insane dervish that chewed at her, but she was almost as old as Musta, and much, much slower than Lika. She also didn't have a vested interest in attacking the kids - maybe she was just bored - and her heart wasn't in the fight. She turned tail and ran with Lika chewing on her backside, just as Dad reached the cloud of dust and dog.

Mom had put herself between the dogs and party and held her hand over her mouth at the scene playing out in her yard. Her fear overwhelmed her and she was sobbing even as Lika returned to where Dad knelt, holding out his arms for the little dog. Lika's hackles were still up, he kept looking back at where the bigger dog had disappeared, and I could hear his low growling from where I watched from the bathroom. And he was limping.

Fortunately, his one wound was insignificant. Daisy had bitten him on his right front leg, but there was only one small puncture wound. Dad scooped him up and tried to carry him into the house but Mom stopped Dad and descended on her little furry hero, smothering Lika with hugs and kisses and I knew two things at that moment: 1. Lika wasn't going anywhere, and, 2. I had lost my dog to Mom.

And I was okay with that.

I knew I could still take him on my fishing trips, or walk the streets of town with 'my' dog by my side, but Lika belonged to Mom just as surely as I did.

So Lika earned a permanent home, I got my dog, although he belonged to everyone else, too, especially Mom. He was her hero and she showered love and affection on that little guy throughout the remainder of his life. Without consulting me she changed his name to Pela - a shortened version of Pelastaja. I had to admit it certainly fit him better.

I'd like to say that Pela had bonded to me more than the rest of my family but that simply wasn't so. He snuggled with me on cold nights, but no more than with any of my siblings. Pela didn't exactly take a rotation - he somehow chose the child who needed it most; the child who was sick, the child who was sad because of a bully at school, or the child who just needed more.

Growing up is about learning lessons and along the way I mostly learned them (except Plane Geometry). Many I learned from my teachers along the way but more I learned from my parents.

One in particular I learned in my efforts to bring home a dog - Dad was right. Life does have a way of getting us what we truly want. I've tested this idea many times over the span of my life and added to it: Life has a way of getting what we truly want if our motives are right and if we maintain a positive outlook.

When I left for college and, later left Michigan to see what I could make out of life, I left Pela with my family. It was the right thing to do for them, and for Pela, and it would have been selfish to do otherwise.

When I returned home as I often did, Pela always acted like I had just been using the bathroom or at school. He'd cock his head up at me as if to ask, "Where've you been?" before jumping up on my lap.

They say love goes on and maybe the love I had for my first dog never left at all. I can still feel it.

Note: The photo is not of Pela - I know some exist but I have no idea which of my remaining seven siblings have Mom and Dad's photos. Ultimately, it doesn't matter - I can still see him in my memory. The photo I used as a heading is from a Google search for "Scruffy Dog Black and White." Of all the images, this one looks most similar to Pela.

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crow-the-unknown · 5 months

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looking through the kraken lb tag is so fucking funny at this point lmao

"what did we do to deserve this" TRY AND KILL LIKE HALF OF OUR PLAYERS?????????? also its so funny because apparently they hate cale, mikko, and toewser there rn like sorry babes they're just better than you <3

#avs lb #colorado avalanche #in all honesty i do like the kraken tho. i just despise when we play them and that win felt SO GOOD #also ever since the playoffs last year i've disliked them more and more... like they're more of an “ok sure” team to me now #and i refuse to take cale slander for a single dirty hit. that was honestly mostly just a misunderstanding on his part.#ESPECIALLY when it was immediately followed by much worse (as in eb*rle breaking cog's neck)

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anotherghoul666 · 1 year

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Swallow the Sun primer

For @devoured-by-shadows but anyone who's interested in discovering the Finnish doom masters that are STS are welcome to read! The post's addressed to them because it began as an ask and I went overboard Like I do hahaha

Swallow the Sun, shortened to STS, are a LEGENDARY doom metal band from Finland. They formed in 2000, created by master of Gloom, Beauty & Despair Mister Juha Raivio himself, composer and guitarist who will rip your heart right out of your chest and leave you in a puddle of tears with the beauty of the crushing tales he weaves. Within a year they had Matti Honkonen on bass and the absolutely extraordinary Mikko Kotamäki on vocals to form the core lineup which has remained stable since 2001. Drums and second guitar have changed a bit over the years (notably they had Kai Hato behind the kit from 2009 to 2015, #bestEraOfSTS. You may know Hato better from Wintersun, or Nightwish nowadays. He's one of my all time drum idols and, no joke, one of the softest, kindest, most gentle souls I've ever met in my life). STS's got the same lineup since 2018.

I will admit that Kotamäki's vocals are somewhat of an acquired taste, it did take me a while to get used to it too, but give it the time it deserves. He has cleans and screams to offer and once it hits, it's transcendental. Once you'll fall in love, this man will ensnare you and his voice will own your soul. He's definitely refined his vocal technique too, the song you heard No Light, No Hope is from 2007, he was still pretty raw then. I like the rawness but it is less accessible than how polished he sounds now. I don't see any reason why his recent vocals would not hit the mark for you, knowing what I know of your stellar music taste.

Through their career they have released 8 full length studio albums with the occasional EP and single release dotted throughout. Legit, they do not have a single bad album. They have rather different albums, and you will vibe with an era more than with another, most likely. It's up to you to find where STS clicks for you, which type of haunting menalcholy do their grip and won't let go of. As long as you are into doom metal and slow, melancholic, longing, painful, mournful 5-15 minutes songs, they will hit for you. Their lyrical universe is stunning, and once you're sucked into their sound, there's a non-negligible chance they will become a go-to band to cry to when you need to get it out. I know that's what they are for me. You just need to be in a mood for sad shit.

Keeping in my mind that my actual recommendation is "just listen to the entire discography from start to finish because it's 100% worth it and flawless perfection", I also recognize my bias and how unrealistic that is XD So I shall now proceed to go album by album in chronological order (which is also the order I recommend discovering them in because their progress is very satisfying to hear) and rec some songs to start your Swallow the Sun journey with!

Off of 2003's The Morning Never Came, I suggest: Deadly Nightshade Swallow (Horror Pt. 1) my favorite STS song because of personal reasons and attachment

From 2005's Ghosts of Loss, I suggest: The Giant Fragile

From 2007's Hope I suggest: Don't Fall Asleep (Horror Pt. II)

2008's Plague of Butterflies EP is one of the most ambitious, gut wrenching and honestly seminal projects in doom metal's history. It's a 35 minutes song that is a must listen in any metalhead's journey. Sit down, grab the lyrics, dim the lights and feel the beauty and sadness of one of the most wonderful and painful musical tales to ever come out of the genre. Unbeatable shit. My 2nd favorite STS song.

Off of 2009's New Moon, I suggest: Lights on the Lake (Horror Pt. III)

Off of 2012's Emerald Forest and the Blackbird, which is where I feel you'll start to hear the shift into STS's "modern sound" so this may be where you start to like them more, I suggest: Labyrinth of London (Horrors pt. IV) my 4th favorite STS song, the 3rd will come later This Cut is the Deepest Hate, Lead the Way

2015's Songs from the North is quite the outlier project in this band's discography because it's a triple album. It's legit 3-4 hours of music. Each album, I, II and III have a distinct sound and pull from different inspirations: you have a heavier metal one, an acoustic one and a deep slow doom 10+ minutes-per-song one. It's a big ass mountain to climb cause there is so much material here and it's not been trimmed. I sincerely feel like they could have made a single 12-13 tracks album with the three discs, idk. I don't suggest starting here at all, this is more of the deep dive album at the end of the journey if you really love them: Lost & Catatonic

Which leads us to the masterpiece of Swallow the Sun's discography, 2019's When a Shadow is Forced into the Light. Listen. There is a lot of history behind that album. A very painful personal history in Juha Raivio's life. I could recount the whole tale one day, because as STS fans we lived through it in a small way. With all the distance in the world, it wrecked me. 4 years later it still makes me very, very emotional. Long story short, Raivio's wife Aleah Starbridge, the Nightingale, beautiful soul, beautiful flamme, for whom we still hold the torch alight, passed away and this is the album of his grief. I think even without knowing the whole story, the album speaks for itself. This is one of my top 5 albums of all time. All genres, all bands, all music altogether, this album is one of the most beautiful, most difficult listens I have ever heard and it changed me deeply. This album completely changed me. There's a before and an after. Me and my father made our first listen of this album together on the road when it came out. Mw dad's a man from the 50s so you know he Does Not Cry, I have seen this man cry probably 5 times in my entire life, and one of those was us listening to this album for the first time. We had to pull over to the side of the road so we wouldn't get in an accident and we just stayed there, listened, held each other and sobbed together. I will never forget that memory. So as far as songs go? Just listen to the entire album. For real. Take the hour out of your life. It's worth it, trust me. When you're in the mood to take it obviously. Every song here is pure musical perfection. Stone Wings is my 3rd favorite STS song, but it deserves to hit in the context of the album. Do me and yourself a favor and experience the entire thing as it was meant to. Start of the playlist here

2021's Moonflowers is their latest release currently and I suggest: Woven into Sorrow

And those are the broad lines of Swallow the Sun! I hope you enjoy your journey in this universe of Gloom, Beauty & Despair! If you have any comments / questions about them (yes I have hagning out with the guys annecdotes too XD for instance hahaha) hit me up anytime!

#asks #swallow the sun #music primers

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fallinallincurls · 2 years

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imagine trying to help mr cale makar with his hangover after all the partying and drinking they’ve done. you would have to basically watch him take the painkillers for his headache. maybe make him an easy breakfast so it wouldn’t upset his stomach. he would definitely be embarrassed about everything he said or did to you while he was drunk. cue the blushy red cheeks again.

“i did what last night?” cale asks in complete shock, almost dropping his water bottle. he just took some advil, thanks to your endless convincing, to help cure his hangover from all the partying the night before when the avs finally won the cup.

“which part are you talking about? you attempting to do body shots off of mikko or refusing to put your shirt on and instead dressing the cup? or maybe how you did the famous dirty dancing move with me in the middle of the bar?” you recount all the crazy memories from the night before, giggling between words as you make cale breakfast.

“no, stop, there’s no way any of that happened.” your boyfriend shakes his head in disbelief as he sits down at the kitchen island.

“oh it did, baby. i even have proof.” you say sweetly, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before running a hand through his hair which is all messed up this early in the morning.

“why did you let me drink so much? i probably looked like the biggest idiot on the team.” cale groans, dropping his head into his hands. “and now my head is killing me.”

“trust me, ej won the title of looking like the biggest idiot on the team. but you all deserved to celebrate such a big accomplishment so i wasn’t going to take that away from you.” you admit and watch cale’s cheeks turn that familiar rosy color that he’s pretty much known for.

“could you take this hangover away from me though?” you can’t help but laugh at his question. instead, you plate his breakfast and kiss his forehead.

“that is something i cannot do. just please eat and keep drinking water. there’s more celebrations and time to embarrass yourself again later.” cale rolls his eyes even though he smiles at your teasing. he slowly eats his breakfast and leans into your soft touch that helps ease the pain of the unsurprising hangover.

besides, you’ll only find yourselves in this same exact position tomorrow.

#asks #ask bre #lovely anon #concept night #send in some concepts!#cale makar #cale makar blurbs #cale makar blurb #cale makar fluff #this was so cute to write

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midsummereve1993 · 2 years

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gender reveal

starlynmars it’s a boy so exicted to have a son, my husband is over the moon to have a son and so grateful for the news of having a son. we already got a name picked out but saving it for when he is born.

Mr.mickmars so excited to have a grandson, can't wait to hear the name once he born. Good thing you didn't tell your uncle @tommylee the name he brocast it all over the social media. Lol

Tommylee @mr.mickmars those two times were accidents and I can't help it I get excited, so exicted for a nephew can't wait.

Nikkisixxpixx congratulations star, you and nikko deserve it. I know your father is excited and I can't wait to hold the baby once he is born. Next year needs to hurry up so we can meet him lol.

Thevinceneil seems just like yesterday you was running around back stage and now your becoming a mother my heart is melting I love you.

Mikkosiren it's a boy, I'm geting a son me and star are overjoyed at the thought of a son. The name is already picked out but ain't saying anything till the baby is born.

Starlynmars can't wait to meet our son, i am so lucky to have you as a husband baby.

Mr.mickmars congratulations, I can't wait to meet him and learn his name.

Thevinceneil are you sure you ain't tell us guys, we promise we won't tell. We'll I can't say the same for tommy.

Tommylee hey now @thevinceneil that isn't my fault, congratulations mikko. Having a boy will change your life trust me.

Nikkisixxpixx @mikkosiren like tommy said having a boy is absolutely positively a joy and he is lucky to have you and star as parents.

Serainamars so can't wait to hold the baby boy and give him loves. Yall are going to be great parents @mikkosiren and @starlynmars.

Geting a grandson next year in May, so excited if only I can cox my daughter and son-in-law into telling me the name lol. But really through I am over the moon now

Nikkisixxpixx so excited for you man, know that kid is going to bad ass.

Thevinceneil congrats man, know your over the moon.

Tommylee congratulations dude, can wait for you to hold your grandson in your arms. Also found some baby clothes I think @stalynmars and @mikkosiren can use lol.

Starlynmars oh lord, please tell me you didn't do what I think you did @tommylee, uncle tommy no offense but the last time you brought clothes you made me look a young grandmother.

Mikkiosiren @tommylee ignore my wife, she's just mad at me right now.

@youlightmeupfinn @ali-r3n @valeriiecameron @sutton2001 @la-undercover-latina

Please let me know how I'm doing, please read my stories and let me know how they are. I would like to do better so please let me know

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matthewtkachuk · 3 years

Note

we should just kiss like real people do w josty

ily b

pairing: tyson jost x reader

warnings: fake dating

word count: 1k

we should just kiss like real people do

You’re not quite sure how you got here, perfectly manicured fingernails curled around Tyson’s bicep, and a dress that cost more than your rent adorning your figure. You’re friends, certainly, in the way that you’re friends with Mikko or Nate or all the others. But it’s not Mikko or Nate or all the others whose arm you’re hanging off of, nor is it any of their words that you’re hanging on to.

It’s Tyson’s arm curled around your shoulders or your waist, or his hand pressed to the small of your back or laced with your own or holding your thigh beneath the table. It’s his lips pressed to the shell of your ear, whispering about nothing, or to your temple or your forehead or your cheek. Tyson whose gaze is heavy on you no matter where you are - whether it be by his side, near the bar, or with your other friends.

Your laugh is the one causing the corners of his mouth to upturn in a grin, your hand he presses a champagne flute into, your waist he holds with the tenderness of a man in love as he leads you to the dancefloor.

Maybe it’s not the how that is the question, as you had certainly been there when he’d asked. One moment you had been minding your own business at work, the next Tyson Jost was causing a tizzy with a large floral bouquet, the previously on good terms admin assistant glaring at you from behind him. When you’d agreed to be his date to this gala while under the guise of being his girlfriend you hadn’t totally considered all the things that could go wrong.

But it’s you, halfway in love with the man you’ve only ever called a casual friend, acting like you can’t see the knowing grins of all your friends and the residual leering glares of some of the women at this event. It’s you, realizing that you were knee deep in all the things that could go wrong.

Maybe it’s the why, as you have to remind yourself constantly that it’s all pretend, especially when left to your own devices with a few of the better halves while your pretend-date as the likes of Susanna and Charlotte cooed over your newly minted, totally fake, relationship. Why did you agree to do this? Why did he want you to pretend to be his girlfriend, would it not have been enough to just come as his friend? Why you? Why did it hurt so bad to have to acknowledge that it wasn’t real?

Mel knows it’s fake, you panic as Tyson’s captain’s wife pulls you to the side later. A million and one excuses and rationalizations run through your mind but you forget every single one of them as she just tuts and shakes her head softly, “what are you doing?” She doesn’t like the way you squeak out that you’re just heading for another drink, sighing heavily and repeating herself. “I meant what are you doing here, tonight, with Josty.”

“We’re dating?” you answer her in the most unconvincing tone. She looks kind of like you just told her you don’t think Cale deserved the Calder, or like you’d grown a second head when you weren’t paying attention. There’s no need for her to speak in order to get more out of you, all it takes is a single glare and you can’t help but feel a little bit bad for Gabe in the moment. She looks on with sympathy while you explain the situation as best as you can with only your one-sided knowledge.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she warns finally, but it’s not like she really had to do that, you’ve known since you walked into the venue that you were walking a very thin line. Her warning serves very little purpose other than to reignite the anxious energy bubbling in your stomach. Looking past her shoulder, you spot Tyson looking at the two of you, and when his face lights up with a grin you recognize just how screwed you really are.

Later in the evening you find yourselves caught in the crosshairs of a few of his teammates. You get the distinct feeling that you’re not in on the joke, like Tyson has spent the majority of his time away from you being harassed and chirped by his teammates. It’s not that shocking, knowing the boys, but the way Sammy crows something about it being ‘about time already’ is. You don't have time to ponder it or worry about the implications, because suddenly you’re being goaded into kissing.

There’s a panic in your eyes that you can’t quite tame, not even as you meet Mel’s similarly alarmed face or as you gaze into Tyson’s much calmer expression. He lifts his hand to press into your neck and mumbles something that sounds a lot like ‘relax’. “We’re just kissing, like real people do,” he whispers before making good on his promise. It’s chaste and sweet but fuck is it everything you didn’t even know you were hoping for. The rest of your friends leave you alone after the prompted kiss, but you can’t stop thinking about it as you excuse yourself to go take a breather outside.

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised that Tyson follows you, but you are. The night air is quiet if not a little cold, and so you just stand side by side shivering for a moment. A thousand questions flitter through your brain. Why did you bring me here? Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Why did you kiss me like that? You’re not sure you’re capable of expressing all of those thoughts, and so you settle for a simple “Why?”

There’s no one to be pretending in front of, but that doesn’t stop him from curling his hands around your waist and pulling you in close rather than answering your question. Truth be told the question dies on your lips when he presses his to yours.

You want so desperately for it to be real that you grip the lapels of his suit jacket and pull him in even closer, but it all comes crashing down the more you focus on it. “This isn’t real,” you whisper as you pull away.

He just shakes his head, “we’re real people,” and kisses you like they do.

#nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost imagines #tyson jost blurb #tyson jost x reader #shelb writes blurbs #shelb writes #shelbs 1.5k

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hockeyboysiguess · 3 years

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five golden rings -> five silver rings | m. rantanen

a/n: an hour later in all the rest so far, but here’s fic number five in my 12 days of christmas series! rest of the series linked here.

word count: 2,470

warnings: mentions of alcohol

You took a deep breath and smoothed out your dress before adjusting your hair one last time, deciding after all this time it was best to settle for that one pesky curl being out of place so you could get going. You grabbed your earrings off the dresser, a gift from Mikko, and headed to the living room where he was waiting for you. His suit jacket was tossed onto the couch next to him, his eyes trained on his phone. In the faint light of just the Christmas tree, illuminating his jawline his free hand came up to scratch, his blonde curls outlined by the light, he looked every bit as angelic as you thought he looked the day you met him, and every bit as angelic as he proved to be since that moment, worthy of the top of your grandmother’s Christmas tree. He had to settle for her mantle next to it though.

“Ready!” was how you announced your presence to him.

Mikko lifted his head from his phone as a lazy smile pulled slowly at his lips. His light eyes danced up and down your body appreciatively in a way that told you the dress was worth its uncomfortableness. You smiled and your cheeks heated under his gaze, but he just heightened it by letting out a low whistle.

“Merry Christmas to me,” he spoke through his smile.

“Christmas isn’t for two more days,” you reminded him as you grabbed your coat from the closet, attention away from him for a moment.

“Well then.” Mikko’s voice was suddenly in your ear and you gasped as you felt his large hands slide around your waist from behind. You hadn’t even heard him get up. “I guess Christmas came early for me then.”

You slid a hand down his forearm until your hand covered his. You slid your fingers into the gaps between his, lacing your hands together. He squeezed your fingers between his and pressed his hand against your stomach to push you firmly against him. A kiss to your neck followed by another and you knew you had to be the one to put your foot down and stop this so you could actually make it to the party sort of close to on time.

“Mik, you can do this later,” you mumbled out as he kissed your neck.

“Is it a crime that I want my fiancée?” he muttered out against your skin. “Especially when you’re wearing this dress…”

He trailed off and you were slowly getting pulled into the warmth that was Mikko Rantanen, but you had to stop this for now. Mikko needed to make it to this party seeing as it was for him. Well, him and the rest of his teammates, but your vested interest was in your fiancé. You pulled his hand away from you and stepped forward toward the closet, wrapping your hand around your coat again. Mikko groaned, but reached for his coat hung up next to yours instead of trying to pull you back in. He knew you were right, even though he didn’t want you to be.

You flicked off the Christmas tree before following Mikko out the door, hand in one of his large ones. He held your hand as he drove, a habit he picked up early in your relationship neither of you wanted him to shake. Especially after the ring Mikko agonized over made its way into your hand, he never let it go in the car. He frequently pressed soft kisses on the back of your hand periodically at stop lights. Under the streetlights decorated with wreaths lining the street of Denver, like under the lights on the Christmas tree earlier, you were looking at him and were reminded just how much you loved every part of him, every single thing he brought to your life. The holidays made a lot of people sentimental, you included, and there wasn’t anyone who deserved your sentiment more than Mikko.

With his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the party, it didn’t feel as overwhelming as it was. The Avalanche Christmas party, not the ugly sweater drunken Christmas-fest that occurred at the Landeskogs, but the formal one that required a dress this nice that you could barely breathe in and heels as high as you could manage. It was all heightened this year by the silver cup on the table at the center of the room, visible from every angle. With the season shifted back this year, you had watched Mikko hoist the cup in October, shifting everything back and causing events and timelines to converge. The decision to give the team their championship rings at the Christmas party this year gave the whole event a little more fanfare and a little more weight.

Mikko grabbed two champagne flutes off a passing waiter’s tray and handed one to you with a wry smile, his dimples showing alongside that beautiful smile you loved so much. You tapped your glass to his before raising it up to him, the first of many silent toasts for the evening to celebrate his greatest accomplishment to date. The cup in the center of the room took you back through the times it starred in your memories. You looked at the Cup, shining under the lights, and remembered the way Mikko looked at you on the ice as the realization that his childhood dream was a reality hit him. You remembered the moment you watched him hoist it over his head like it weighed nothing, when from your own experience trying to lift it in his parent’s backyard in Finland, you knew it wasn’t all that light. The look of joy on his face, the brightness in his eyes, every single time he saw the Cup and knew he had won it, that his name was engraved on it, the feelings that expression on his face gave you reminded you of a lot of things. The warmth of a steady burning fireplace, the innocent untampered with joy of a child on Christmas morning, but most of all, it brought back the memory of Christmas two years ago, when he had the same look on his face, the look of a dream coming true, when you told him that you loved him too.

“Ready to mingle?” Mikko asked you, stealing your now empty champagne flute from you to place it on a tray passing by. “You know they all just want to talk to you instead.”

Coaches, executives, owners, and what felt like endless people with endlessly similar yet different job titles later, your feet were killing you and you’d had a few more flutes of passing champagne that you were definitely feeling. Mikko dropped down into his seat next to yours and you sighed with relief when you realized he’d grabbed two drinks on his way to the table.

“My savior,” you smiled at him as he leaned in closer to you. You stole a quick kiss before adding, “Did it hurt when you crash landed in Santa’s sleigh? Because you’re the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Did you just make a terrible Christmas themed, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven,’ joke?” Mikko was laughing as you nodded in response. “God, I can’t wait to marry you.”

You both turned your attention to the stage. One of the people you’d shaken hands with and turned on your most charming smile for was up there giving another congratulations speech. You were sure it was supposed to reflect the hard fought sixteen wins the team put in for the Cup and all the hours before and in between those, but you’d heard so many of these speeches since the team won that glaringly shiny cup in the center of the stage now that they all blended together, even as they were happening. The garland in the background and Mikko’s fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder were the only two things that made the speech stand out from all the others. You still gave it a standing ovation, like everyone else around you did.

Two more speeches later, and a veritable army of people suddenly emerged from doors you hadn’t realized were there with stacks of black boxes in their hands. Mikko rubbed his hands together excitedly. You knew he’d never wear it, but it would be an understatement to say he was excited to see his championship ring after months of waiting. As soon as the box was placed in front of him, Mikko’s hands were dancing on it, dying to open it and see its contents, but he was waiting for his teammates spread around the room to receive theirs as well. Everyone had been waiting for this moment and he wasn’t about to be the one to spoil it. Still, he looked like a child who had just had a present placed in front of them that was so uniquely shaped it could only be the one thing they most desperately wanted who was then told to wait for everyone else to get their presents too.

Mikko flipped open the top of the box as fast as humanly possible when he finally could. You could practically see the glint of the ring in his eyes as he reached forward with shaking hands to pick it up. He whistled long and low as he appraised it in his hand, turning it over and over slowly to see it from every possible angle. He shook his head softly, a youthful smile pulling at his lips. The championship ring was always a small part of the dream, the most material part, but also one of the more physical representations of it he would get to keep with him forever. It was a moment, winning the cup, that might not come again, no matter how hard he worked and your fiancé worked harder than anyone you knew. Because of that, you filmed him opening the box and sliding his hard earned championship ring on for the first time, wanting to give him every single opportunity to savor this moment over and over again.

“Baby, look!”

Mikko’s mouth was pulled into a wide open smile, absolute elation on his face, the monstrously large ring on his finger. You laughed as you filmed his reaction, his wide-eyed, wide-mouth joy burned into your phone memory forever. You couldn’t help but ruin the moment for just a second to lean forward and kiss him. Mikko didn’t hesitate for a second before kissing you back.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered softly to him, making him smile impossibly wider than he had been all night.

“Thank you,” he replied just as softly. “That reminds me. I have something for you actually.”

You groaned as Mikko leaned back into his chair and fished around in his suit jacket pocket for a moment. He pulled out a small black box, thin and long like it contained a bracelet, but slightly wider than that. Mikko had a penchant for getting you far too expensive jewelry, a habit he picked up early on your relationship that culminated in the ring on your left hand you hadn’t even wanted to venture the cost of when he slid it onto your finger. You didn’t think this Christmas would be any exception, even though your ring had come this year already. You knew Mikko better than to think this Christmas would be any different, except he was two days early.

“You’re early, Mik,” you sighed, tossing your napkin onto the table.

“Fits better with today,” he told you as he extended the box out to you.

You placed it on the table and gave him a small glare out of the side of your eyes, which only made him laugh. You opened it slowly, as painstakingly slowly as you could, just to make him suffer a little before getting your reaction since he cracked and was giving you a gift two days early. When you finally had it fully open, you gasped softly at the contents. Five silver rings sat nestled in the velvet, of various sizes and thickness, all beautifully polished and shining.

“I know you like those sets, with smaller rings that go like, on the top of your fingers and the bigger ones that go where your rings normally sit?” Mikko was pointing to his own hand to try and show you. “I thought um, five silver rings on the Stanley Cup, five silver rings for you? It didn’t feel right to get a ring myself and not get you one, since you’re my biggest supporter.”

It was a little cliché and you knew it, but your eyes teared up a little anyway. You let your fingers dance over the rings slowly, tapping over the one with the smallest diameter first and working your way up. You knew they were completely custom, and platinum not silver like Mikko was trying to make you believe for the sake of his homage to the Cup, which wasn’t even entirely silver itself to begin with. When your fingers reached over the biggest and widest ring, Mikko cleared his throat.

“There’s, um, you should take a good look at that one.”

Which was your cue to slide it from the box and look for an engraving on the idea. You ran the tip of your finger over the letters before your eyes became too cloudy to see them clearly anymore. It was just one word. Kiitos, in his native tongue. Thank you. That’s all he’d engraved inside, but it meant the absolute world to you. You saw Mikko as a part of all of your successes, your highest highs made possible and sweeter because of him and his steadfast love and support. You were holding evidence he saw you as part of his greatest success too.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he told you softly, “and thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Everything was vague, yet all encompassing as a word. All encompassing because Mikko meant it so. He was thankful for you, saying yes when he got down on one knee earlier that year. He was thankful for your support. He was thankful for your love. But most of all, he was just thankful by some miracle that felt a lot like Christmas itself, you picked him back and were working on vows just like he was to say that you would pick him for forever. By this time next year, he would have heard those vows and you would have heard his. But Mikko didn’t want to skip ahead. He chose to live in the now, in that night with you, cherishing the Christmas that was to come in two days, while looking forward to his lifetime of them with you.

#mikko rantanen #mikko rantanen fanfic #mikko rantanen writing #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine

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brockadoodles · 3 years

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I’m back, here’s a fic rec list

So I came back, and I definitely want to rebuild my fic rec lists just to spread some love. So here are some of my all time faves that you should check out! I’m trying to do it all by memory, but I know that I probably forgot a few, but don’t worry, I’ll be doing more of these in the future!

How to Cross a Hurricane by @hockeyboysiguess

This fic makes me mad because I don’t even GO HERE for Mikko and yet.. I would die for Mikko and Jo? It’s 40k of a straight masterpiece and I know how hard B worked on it, and how much was written and rewritten and it just deserves much of your time. Thanks!

Golden by @pettypetey

I would die for this fic, mainly because she wrote it for me but like... go read because it’s so fucking cute. The sweetness and development of the relationship is just... so adorable. I’m actually going to be mad if you don’t go show this one some love.

Some People Do by @blueskrugs

I adore this. I’ve reread it multiple times. It’s emotional, intense and just SO good. Do yourself a favor and read this then it’s sequel. You won’t regret it. I just don’t have enough good things to say about this one.

When Fate Stepped in by @jasondickinsons-stories

Okay ky, having him under Edmonton Oilers FELT SO WRONG, but that changes nothing how I feel about this LITERAL NOVEL LENGTH masterpiece. I don’t even go here for Tyson OR soulmate stuff and yet!!! I DID AND YOU SHOULD TOO.

Thanksgiving by @broadstbroskis

Listen, I don’t go here for jeff skinner but like Thanksgiving fic? SIGN ME UP. I regret nothing from reading this. It’s so cute. And seeing as though I’m posting this on American Thanksgiving, you’re obligated to go read it sorrrry not sorrrry

Not a Typical Christmas Story by @puckinghell

While it absolutely wrecked me to not put the Willy Christmas fic on here, I figured I should also probably tell you to read this one since it’s newer and INCREDIBLE omg. The slow transition from hating Christmas to opening up to the idea of it... Lou NAILED IT.

Heartless by @zuucc

I think about this fic so much, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever read. The buildup of the story, the connection that her and josty have, it’s all just chef’s kiss. Definitely settle in and read this one.

Little do you Know by @raysofcrosby

Little do YOU KNOW, that this fic lives rent free in my head. It’s seriously SO good. I have read it countless times. It’s just.. seriously one of my favorite fics. It’s upsetting to me thinking about how many people haven’t read this.

Make your Move, Leave your Mark by @danglesnipecelly

BITCH, when i say you need to read this, I MEAN IT. It’s everything. It’s so good. It’s the first marky thing I ever read and it’s so beautifully done, I could just talk about it all day. But I won’t because you need to go read it.

When we Went from Friends to this by @slapshot-to-the-heart

Hi. I love this. That’s all. No but seriously, I just...it’s so good. It’s just the perfect balance of sweetness and I adore everything about it. Go read it, I promise it’s worth it.

Don’t be Jealous by @texanstarslove

Listen if you like smut and Seggy, miss @texanstarslove is your boo. She’s got the goods when it comes to that and is who I like to think of as the resident seggy gal. So go give this a read.

Falling for You by @prettyboybarzal

Jake deBrusk is so underrated here, and if you’re looking for good content about him, this is what you should start with. It’s a classic friends to lovers that will make you mad at times, and honestly we love that.

you’re cute, let’s make out by @josty

A shortie, but a goodie and let’s be honest all you bitches wanna make out with josty.

Stuck with u by @mbarzals

I loved this, such a cute little thing about good old ratty matty. The bickering and dynamic is so good and I just think you should go read it.

To Finally Be Yours by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

LISTEN. I just. I need to finish the last two parts because I deactivated in the middle but GO READ THIS RIGHT NOW. Thanks. Nat is incredible at storytelling.

#fic rec

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senditcolton · 2 months

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What Did I Do to Deserve You?

Smoothing your fingers down your lover’s tie, fixing where you lover couldn’t tie it right, your lovers gentle affectionate gaze on you the entire time, even though you are lost in concentration.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon | word count: 1k | warnings: just rewriting history

It was odd to think that this high that you and Tyson had been riding since June 26th was coming to an end. It was October and the two of you had more than enough time to celebrate – almost five months to be exact. But you had never seen your boyfriend so happy and you wanted that feeling to never fade.

Colorado Avalanche. Stanley Cup Champions. It was an achievement that meant so much to any hockey player and to any hockey city. But it felt like it meant that much more to Tyson.

He was here through the worst of it. He stayed here through all of the struggles the team faced. And he was one of the six remaining players – along with JT, EJ, Gabe, Nathan, and Mikko – that had experienced the lowest of lows (a 48-point season) and were now experiencing the highest of highs.

A ring ceremony.

In a few hours, you and Tyson would be off to a ridiculously expensive hotel, seated in a ballroom decked out in burgundy and blue, and Tyson would receive a piece of jewelry that symbolized the lofty goal he had accomplished. A ring that would stay with him even after the greatest trophy in all of sports was passed onto a different team.

This last night that the two of you could fully celebrate the Colorado Avalanche’s achievements before Tyson and his teammates had to try and do it all over again.

You are perched on the edge of the mattress as you watch Tyson move in and out of the bedroom, grabbing the final accessories for his outfit. You can tell he is excited simply from the way he moves, the energy surging through his body. A small giggle falls from your lips as you watch him fumble to put on his cufflinks, it taking him a few more tries than usual to slide the metal into place.

He hears your laughter, glancing over his shoulder to you with a grin on his face.

“What’s so funny?” he chirps, his tone playful.

“Nothing,” you reply, leaning forward, your elbows resting on your knees. “You’re just really adorable, that’s all.”

“Adorable? I thought we were going for sexy tonight?” he asks, spinning to face you. “Isn’t that why you insisted I wear this suit?”

You take his words as an invitation to shamelessly let your eyes rake down his body, the grey checkered plaid fabric hugging his athletic frame.

“You do look good, don’t get me wrong,” you start, your eyes connecting back to his brown ones. “But maybe a tie would pull this look from handsome to downright gorgeous.”

“Then you should go and pick one out for me,” he says, his eyes bright although you can see a glimmer of something more underneath. “Whichever you like best.”

You slide off from the bed, waltzing past him and into his walk-in closet. You find the drawer with his ties and pull it open, your eyes dancing over the colors. It takes a moment but you finally settle on a cool purple, lifting it out of its spot and wrapping the silky fabric around your hand.

Wandering back into the bedroom, you hold up the tie to him. He looks over it, his eyebrows furrowing before he gives you a small nod. Tyson holds his hand out, ready to take the material from you but you shake your head.

You don’t speak as you take those final steps towards him, reaching up to lift his shirt collar before draping the silk around his neck. Your hands deftly move, crossing the material over itself as you complete the knot. It a gentle tug to pull the loop snug against his collar, smoothing down the material and holding it in place as you grab the silver tie bar sitting on the dresser.

You pin the material securely to his shirt, your fingers sliding down one last time before you look up at Tyson. His eyes are already on you, the dark irises so full of adoration. Even though it is a look that you have seen cast in your direction a hundred times before, it never fails to make your knees weak.

It is instinctual, the way Tyson leans down and you lift your body up to close the space between you. His lips are soft on yours and you feel his arms land on your waist, pulling you closer. Your palms lay flat against his chest as the two of you continue to kiss, not wanting to pull away from each other. Eventually, and very reluctantly, the two of you separate but you don’t leave his embrace just yet.

“Congratulations, baby,” you murmur, looking up at him, a loving smile playing at your lips. “You deserve all this and more.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to press another quick peck on your lips. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course you could have,” you say. Tyson releases his hold from around you, letting you any last-minute items scattered around the room, preparing for your departure. You turn back to see Tyson looking himself over in the full-length mirror, his hands coming to slightly adjust the tie.

“I like it,” he tells you, his fingers running down the silky material. “It’s like a dark blue, right?

“Babe, it’s purple,” you say, the sentence punctuated by your amused tone. You see Tyson look up, his eyes wide as he meets your gaze in the mirrors reflection.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding your head.

You wander over to him, looping your arm through his, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as you both look at your reflections.

“So,” you continue, that mischievous tone still evident in your words. “I guess you could’ve won the Stanley Cup without me. But making sure your colorblind ass doesn’t look like a walking trainwreck… that’s another story.”

Tyson laughs, the sound of it pulling a giggle from your own lips. He places another quick kiss on the top of your head before taking a firmer hold of your arm and directing you out the door.

Excited to celebrate his accomplishments. Enthusiastic to have you by his side.

#nicole writes #tyson jost blurb #tyson jost fluff #buffalo sabres blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #valentine blurbs 2k24

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secretlittlerandezvous · 4 years

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Part Of My World - Mikko Rantanen

Summary: Mikko meets his girlfriend’s little son for the first time.

Notes: S/n means “son’s name”. I am sorry it took me so long to write this however, I hope you’ll like this. I fell in love with Mikko thanks to this and I enjoyed writing this (also big thanks to @coocoocatchoo for helping me with my writer’s block and getting me started) 🕊✨ (Part 2)

Words: 2016

“You are the love that came without warning, you had my heart before I could say no.”

She was awfully quiet. For the entire date they had that evening she spoke only a few words but even then, it didn’t seem like she paid enough attention to her words and answered only because she had to or to what he told her. She didn’t eat or drink much and her face was unusually serious. It was the first time he saw her like this; there was no trace of her smile that was usually present on her face, her eyes were heavy, and her voice was quiet and low. Mikko was wondering if it was because of him, because of something he said or did, but he tried to shake it off and ignore it for as long as he possibly could hoping her mood would eventually change for the better. But when they finished their dinner, he cooked for them and her mood didn’t change at all he finally found enough courage to ask her. “Y/n you’re awfully quiet this evening. Are you okay?” He asked as he poured her another glass of her favorite wine and then he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly and placed her small hand on the top of his. “I’m just lost in my thoughts tonight a lot but everything’s okay.” She smiled and hoped that the concerned look on his face would disappear.

“What are you thinking about? You look concerned,” Mikko pointed out. “I mean I’ve never seen you look as serious as you do now.” He added with a chuckle.

“S/n told me today he’d like to have a dad. Or at least that’s what he hinted,” she said with a heavy sigh, took a sip of her wine, and continued. “I’m not saying this to guilt you into something or to make you feel sorry for us. But S/n will need a father figure in his life, and I’d like to know if you’re still interested in having us both in your life or if you changed your mind?” Y/n was nervous about the question she gave him. Although Mikko assured her from the very beginning he would take her son as his own if it works out between them, she still had doubts and she hated the idea of having people come in and out of her little boy’s life.

“Definitely not what I expected to hear from you,” Mikko said in a shock but he then sorted all of his thoughts and calmed down again. “Y/n, you know from the beginning that I feel ready to have you guys in my life and be a family. I respected your decision to wait before you introduce me to him, but I honestly think we both know how much you and I love each other and I don’t think we’re going to part our ways anytime soon or if ever. I’ll do my best to find a way to him and be a good dad to him. If he’ll see me as a dad one day of course.” Mikko didn’t have a single doubt about this. He loved Y/n more than he ever loved anyone before and he couldn’t imagine his life without her. Her son was the biggest part of her life and Mikko knew that and he was excited to meet him and officially have them both in his life.

“How did I deserve you? You’re the best, you know that?” Y/n said with a smile and tears glistened in her eyes from the happiness she felt at that moment.

“I’ve heard it a few times already,” he said jokingly and kissed the top of Y/n’s head.

“You’re still really young though. You’re so young and you have no idea what it’s like to take care of a child. I really need you to be sure you can do this and that you want this.”

“Honey trust me, from the moment you told me you have a child I was preparing myself for it,” he admitted, and his cheeks turned a little red. “It’ll obviously take me some time to learn everything and get used to it but trust me I am ready.”

“So, if you’re ready then I think you could come over soon and meet him,” she said finally letting go of all the doubts and questioning. “Are you free on Friday? I’ll cook dinner and we then can play some games or something.”

“Friday works for me,” Mikko said with a smile.

...

Y/n felt an overwhelming stress form the moment she woke up in the morning realizing it was the day her son would meet her boyfriend. She had no doubts when it came to Mikko because she knew how sweet and kind he was. She didn’t have any doubts about her son as well because from the second she told him he’ll meet Mikko soon he was excited and preparing all of his favorite toys so he could show them to Mikko. She was nervous purely because she wished to have a real family, something she didn’t experience with her son’s real dad who left her before their boy was born. She was a single mom for almost four years and lost almost all hope she’d meet a man good enough not only for her but mostly for her son, a man who would love them both and take him as his own. Then she met Mikko, completely unexpectedly when she wasn’t looking for anyone and it was the first time, she thought her dream could come true after all.

“Open!” S/n shouted from the living room and the sound of his footsteps soon let Y/n know he was running to open the door after he heard the bell ring. She quickly ran after him because she never liked it when he opened the door alone even if they expected someone.

“Hi little buddy,” Mikko said sweetly with a warm smile once S/n opened the door. Y/n arrived at the door soon after him and with a smile watched the two getting to know each other. “I got you a little gift,” Mikko said and gave him a bag full of gifts.

“What do you say?” Y/n asked her boy and kneeled down next to him to help him open the bag and full of gifts.

S/n looked at his mommy and then at Mikko with a shy smile. “Thank you,” he whispered and hid behind Y/n to mask his shyness.

“You’re welcome,” Mikko smiled. “And here’s something for mommy,” he gave Y/n roses and pulled her into a tight hug. He then kissed her and placed his hand on her back and stroked them gently to calm her down. “It’s alright babe, calm down.” He whispered.

“He’s just a bit shy,” Y/n explained. “He’ll warm up to you soon.” She said to call Mikko down but they both knew she was mostly doing it for herself.

“Mommy! Mommy look!” S/n shouted from excitement when he discovered a bag with his favorite sweets. “And look!” He shouted again and showed Y/n a little teddy bear dressed in a Colorado Avalanche sweatshirt with his name written on the back.

“I see it, baby,” Y/n smiled at him and she looked up at Mikko who had a really proud look on his face. “Didn’t know you would start spoiling so soon.” She said to Mikko.

“There’s actually more in that bag,” he chuckled. “Also got him a jersey and some cool toys I saw at the store and I thought he might like them.”

Y/n served dinner shortly after the introduction. She left Mikko and S/n alone in the living room knowing it was the best way for them to form a friendship and she wasn’t wrong. Just a few minutes later she heard laughter, excited screams, and S/n’s sweet voice when he showed Mikko all of his favorite toys that he prepared for him. Y/n’s heart was full, and she had a hard time accepting all the happiness that was quickly filling her whole body. The only true happiness she knew up until now was her son and she accepted a long time ago that she most likely wouldn’t experience any other kind of happiness for many years. Mikko was the knight in shining armor. Y/n didn’t know there could still exist man like him but then he showed up and everything changed. He was the nicest, sweetest, and the most affectionate person she ever met. He made her feel loved, safe, and happy at all times and that to her was more than she could ever ask or hope for. He was okay with her having a son, in fact, he seemed to be excited about it and the first thing he requested was for her to take S/n to a hockey game as soon as possible. Y/n took him to a few games a few weeks after she made it official with Mikko and S/n sat almost through the whole game - that’s how excited he was. Now when she saw them get along all worries left her and she was completely sure that Mikko would eventually become a great dad and before that he could be S/n’s good friend.

After the dinner, Y/n and her boy went to his room while Mikko stayed in the kitchen to clean the dishes since he offered it. “Do you like Mikko, honey?” Y/n asked her son while he was playing with the toys Mikko got him.

“Yeah,” he chuckled shyly, and his cheeks turned a little red.

Shortly after that Mikko entered the room and sat down next to Y/n. She immediately rested her head on his shoulder, his hands grabbed hers and he held them tightly. “Thank you for tonight Mikko,” she whispered and looked up at him. “It means the world to me that you’re doing this.”

“Y/n, he’s your world. I know it. And I want both of you to be part of my little world.” He whispered back. “Plus, he’s a good kid, he’s so smart and sweet. You’re doing a great job! Although I plan on spoiling him and doing some mischief with him, so you don’t have it that easy with two guys in the house.” Mikko laughed at the last sentence and Y/n playfully punched him into his strong chest.

“You’re gonna be a great dad,” she said with all seriousness. It felt a bit weird to say something like this and for a split of a second, she worried it could get overwhelming for Mikko although he seemed to be doing great. “But please during the mischief try not the ruin our home okay?”

Before Mikko could answer, S/n walked up to him, smiled, and without a second thought, he crawled into Mikko’s lap, rested his head on his chest, and wrapped his little hands around Mikko’s waist. He looked at his mom and chuckled and then he closed his eyes and fell asleep in a few minutes. Mikko looked at the boy in pure shock, he couldn’t believe he would earn his trust this fast and he was flattered. He never had a child sleeping in his arms but now he understood why most people found it as adorable. Mikko no longer loved just Y/n, he also loved her son and there was no going back. They were a family. Mikko placed one of his hands on S/n’s back on stroked them slowly so he wouldn’t wake him up and then he finally looked at Y/n to see her reaction. She was touched, shocked, overwhelmed with emotions and her heart was so full she thought it would explode in any second. Her eyes were filled with tears of joy and she tried to find words to say but nothing came on her mind. Nothing seemed to be good enough to describe how happy and grateful she was. But Mikko knew regardless.

“I love you, my boys,” Y/n whispered and kissed them both on their cheeks.

#mikko rantanen #mikko rantanen imagine #mikko rantanen writing #mikko rantanen one shot #mikko rantanen imagines #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche one shot #colorado avalanche writing #colorado avalanche imagines #nhl players imagine #nhl imagines #nhl one shot #nhl writing #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey one shot #hockey writing #hockey imagines

192 notes · View notes

hockstuff · 3 years

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what did mikko do in his past life to deserve this

#boy just can’t catch a break sigh #avs lb

6 notes · View notes

hockey-fics · 4 years

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Soy Lattes and Red Wine ~ Tyson Jost and Andre Burakovsky (Part Three)

Part One | Part Two

Summary: There was nothing for you in Denver when you decided to move there except a studio apartment and a longing for a fresh start. But the fresh start you’re looking for comes with a number of complications, primarily two.

Warnings (for the whole fic are listed, those in bold are in this part): language, implied sex/light smut, smut, alcohol, cheating. (Andre is kinda an asshole in this, he kinda is in the rest of the fic, I’m sorry)

Word Count: ~4,200

You were hanging out with Tyson a few months after things started with Andre. You would be lying to say that things weren’t different with you and Tyson. You were seeing him less frequently, your time split now between school, work, new friends, Tyson and Andre. And he always seemed on edge anytime anything about Andre came up.

“The guys are going out for drinks tonight,” Tyson tells you even though you could see his phone in his hand in front of him. He was sitting in the corner of your couch and you had your back pressed to his chest, your head on his shoulder as you were watching TV.

“You going?” you ask, tipping your head back to look up at him.

“If you’re coming,” Tyson says easily, lowering his phone to look at you.

“I’m not one of the guys,” you giggle.

“Well I told you I’m spending the day with you so I’m not going out with them,” Tyson tells you with a shrug.

“Tyson,” you groan, shuffling to get onto your knees on the couch to face him. “I don’t want to keep you from going out. It’s not like we had real plans, we’re just watching TV.”

“Exactly, so let's go do something, but together.”

After a little more coaxing you find yourself getting changed out of your sweatpants and into an outfit a little more suitable for a bar. You drive this time, offering to be the designated driver. Tyson may have the day off tomorrow but you didn’t, meaning you had no intention of drinking.

When you get to the bar you follow Tyson to the table in the back that the guys were sitting at. The mood immediately shifts when you get there and for a second you think it’s because it was really supposed to be just the guys. But then you notice Nate trying to silently communicate with Tyson. But Tyson isn’t quick to pick it up and Nate isn’t exactly subtle. So you follow his signal with your eyes, seeing Andre at the bar with a girl. She had her hand on his bicep, her head thrown back in a laugh. Two empty shot glasses were sitting in front of them.

The feeling of five sets of eyes on you isn’t subtle and you force a smile onto your face even though you were suddenly feeling nauseous. “He looks like he’s having fun,” you mutter, sliding into the booth beside Mikko.

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Tyson says to you with an apprehensive smile on his face. You had told him you weren’t going to drink but he knew you well enough to know you were going to need one now.

Returning a couple minutes later Tyson sets a mixed drink in front of you before sliding into the booth with a beer in his hand. “You’re okay?” Tyson whispers, leaning back in his seat to try to make his question discreet.

“I’m fine,” you tell him dismissively. Because you weren’t. Not in the slightest. Because it was fun with Andre. But it was fun because you hadn’t made yourself have the conversation with him. The ‘what are we?’ conversation. Because ignorance is bliss until it all blows up in your face. You bring the drink Tyson had brought you to your lips when you catch sight of Andre whispering something in the blonde girl’s ear. You finish almost the whole glass in one drink, grateful for the sweet pepsi that masked the taste of whatever alcohol was in it.

When you look back up you notice wide eyes on you, Ryan chuckling quietly to break up the tension. “I’ve got the next round,” he says to the table, but his eyes are on you full of pity in a way that makes you want to throw up. Because you were just another stupid girl who fell too hard and too fast for someone who just wanted another person to fuck.

And Ryan is true to his word, and maybe more than he should be as the waitress brings a round of drinks for the table, and some extra tequila shots ‘for whoever wants one’ but as he says it he pushes one in front of you. And you throw it back quickly, not evening arguing with the fact that numbing the pain with alcohol was a bad idea. It was, logically, a horrible idea. But drinking till you forgot about how much it hurt to see Andre flirting with another girl at the bar just seemed so right in the moment.

And by the time you’re on your third drink in the hour since you got there you realize maybe your plan wasn’t going to work. Because even though you were a little more numb to the pain you felt the grasp you had on your emotions weakening as well. So when you look up and see Andre walking to the table with the girl in tow you can feel the tears, can feel them caught in your throat, your body fighting to let them out even though it was the last thing your brain wanted.

For the first time he notices you, his eyes landing on yours and softening immediately. Had he known Tyson was bringing you things would have played out differently. But he didn’t know that and truthfully, it didn’t matter. Because was it really better if he was just doing it behind closed doors rather than out in the open at a bar?

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, voice quiet and timid, like the five other people at the table were about to revolt against him.

“Hi Andre,” you reply, your voice cold. And you wished that your emotions were as turned off as you made it seem like they were.

“This is, uh,” Andre starts, turning to look at the girl who was with him. “This is…,” he begins again and you realize he couldn’t remember her name.

Scoffing you shake your head, tapping Tyson’s thigh gently. “I’m going to the washroom, I can’t watch this shitshow,” you whisper to him, sliding out of the booth when Tyson gets up.

You head to the bathroom, taking a few breaths under the fluorescent lights, everything feeling just a little hazy and blurry from the alcohol. Tyson is standing in the hallway when you walk out of the bathroom, one shoulder pressed to the wall as he leans against it.

“You alright?” he asks.

Swallowing heavily you shrug your shoulders, arms wrapped around your body as you try to soothe yourself, calm yourself down so you weren’t the girl crying in a bar over a boy. “Is that all I was to him, Tys?” you whisper, shaking your head. “Did he just figure he should actually remember my name because everyone else did? Because I was your friend?”

Tyson stares at you, noticing the way your eyes were filled with tears, the way your voice was breaking as you spoke, how you seemed to be shrinking into yourself. And he couldn’t remember ever being so mad before. Mad at how anyone could hurt you like this. Mad at himself for not protecting you from this. “Come here,” Tyson says gently, reaching over and pulling you into his chest. Because he didn’t know what he could say to make it better. He didn’t know exactly how Andre felt but standing there with you crying in his arms while Andre was throwing shots back with a stranger in the bar gave him a pretty clear idea that you weren’t far from the truth. But he would never dare say that.

“I’m so stupid, Tys,” you mutter, clutching onto him. “Why did I think he actually cared?”

“You’re not stupid,” Tyson whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead as he pulls back to look into your eyes. “You thought that because you deserve to be with someone who actually cares the way you want them to.”

Sniffling you reach up and wipe the tears off your face. “I’m going to go,” you tell Tyson, as if it needed to be said. “You don’t have to come with me though, I’ll just go try to sleep this whole thing off.”

Tyson chuckles sarcastically, shaking his head. “I’m not staying.”

Smiling softly you nod, pulling him into another quick hug before nodding back towards the bar. You slowly approach the table, leaning down and grabbing your purse from where it was sitting on the booth bench beside Mikko.

“We’re heading out,” Tyson tells the table and your eyes land on Andre, making eye contact. And it’s the exact situation you were in months prior, but this time you were making eye contact with Andre rather than Tyson and it was Tyson taking you home not Andre, but for entirely different reasons.

“Y/N,” Andre says as you turn to leave. You look back, watching him push himself out of the booth and approach you hesitantly. “Can we please talk?” he whispers, looking over at Tyson.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you mutter, looking over at the blonde girl sitting at the table staring at her glass. None of this was her fault and you felt guilty that you had put her in such an uncomfortable situation.

“There is,” Andre mutters, placing his hand on your forearm, thumb rubbing over your skin when he notices your eyes are glossy with tears again.

“Don’t,” Tyson suddenly chimes in, pushing Andre’s hand off your arm, wrapping his own arm around you protectively. “You’ve done enough tonight.”

“I just want to talk to her,” Andre exclaims, hands up in defense after Tyson pushes him away.

“There’s nothing you can fucking say, Andre. You hurt her. You hurt her because you don’t give a fuck. You don’t care about her. You could never care about her...not the way I do,” Tyson exclaims and you slowly pull out of his grasp, eyes widening at his outburst.

“Tyson,” you whisper and you know he heard you but he doesn’t look down at you right away. Eventually he looks over and you don’t know what to do or say now, staring at him in a stunned silence. The same way everyone around you was staring in a stunned silence.

Suddenly Naz is at your side. “I’m driving you home,” he says quietly. He had opted out of drinking for the night and you were more than grateful for that now. “Do you want Tyson to come with you?”

“I...I don’t know,” you whisper back to him, your eyes filling with tears again. Because you were three drinks too deep to figure any of this out. Because you were upset about Andre not caring about you but you were also mad at him for thinking he could just talk to you and it would all be fine. And you were confused about what Tyson said. And you were embarrassed that the whole night had played out like this. And it was all just too much.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, hand on your lower back as he turns you away from the group. You let him guide you out of the bar, deciding it would be best to just let the night end there.

Naz pulls up in front of your apartment building, shifting his car into park. “You’re sure you’re okay alone?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’m sorry the night turned out like that.”

“Hey...that was the most exciting shit I’ve been part of in awhile,” he jokes, chuckling as you push the door open.

You can’t help but giggle at that, stepping out of the car. “Thanks again for driving me home.”

“Anytime. Call if you need anything,” he says before you shut the door, waiting in his car till you’re in the building before driving away.

The night is filled with restless sleep, tossing and turning, your mind drifting back to the bar. But it’s not Andre that your half asleep self can’t stop thinking about. It’s Tyson. ‘You could never care about her...not the way I do’. What did that mean? What was so special about the way Tyson cared about you?

“I’m leaving,” Tyson declares after he watches you leave the bar with Naz. He was glad to see you leave with him, knowing he would get you home safe. But he wished you had answered when Naz asked if you wanted him to come with you. Wished you had said yes.

“I’ll come outside and wait for your Uber with you,” Ryan offers, standing up and walking outside with Tyson.

The tension remains at the table as Andre stands uncomfortably at the side of it, finally glancing back to where Nate and Mikko were left sitting at the table, the girl he had met having disappeared sometime between Naz and Ryan leaving the table.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Andre finally mutters, sounding frustrated and confused.

“Maybe it’s the fact that you just made the girl he’s in love with cry,” Nathan tells him with a bitter tone.

“In love with?” Andre questions, eyes wide as he looks back and forth between Nate and Mikko. “Tyson is in love with Y/N?”

“She was never just a friend to him, Andre,” Nate mutters.

“How was I supposed to know?” Andre exclaims defensively. “It’s not like it was obvious.”

“It was pretty obvious,” Mikko chimes in. “You were just too busy hooking up with her to notice.”

“Fuck,” Andre says, sitting back down as he stares at the surface of the table. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Leave Y/N alone and give Tyson some space, probably,” Nathan reasons, shrugging. “But I can’t speak from experience on this one,” he adds with a chuckle.

Mikko laughs along with Nate, picking up his glass of beer and taking another drink. “Don’t know if anyone can.”

“Shut up,” Andre mutters, not able to find the humour in it the same way they were. Because he wasn’t sure if he could leave you alone. When he saw you upset over him something inside of him felt like it was breaking in a way that didn’t make sense. In a way that made him feel like he just had to do everything in his power to fix it.

When you wake up the next morning you really wished the whole thing had just been one fucked up dream. But the missed call and three texts from Tyson made you aware that you hadn’t just dreamt it all. And then there was the text you weren’t expecting. A text from Andre.

You look at the text from Tyson first. ‘I’m sorry for making you come out last night. I’m sorry he would do that to you’ ‘I meant what I said, you deserve so much more than that’ ‘I just called to make sure you were okay, maybe you’re sleeping. Call if you need anything’

And then the one from Andre. ‘I need to talk to you’

You ignore it all as you lock your phone, dragging yourself to the bathroom and taking a shower. Despite everything that was going on you still needed to go to work. You had a life outside of boy drama, even though the last thing you wanted to do with a mild hangover and eyes swollen from crying was go to work.

The day goes by slowly, your phone remaining in the bottom of your bag all day. You couldn’t bring yourself to face anything when you needed to be focusing on work. And then when you got home from work you convinced yourself that you couldn’t face it with your blood sugar low so you made and ate dinner. And then you were tired, so you really couldn’t face it then either. And the next morning you knew the guys would be boarding a plane to begin a string of away games and you didn’t want to distract from that.

And the excuses continued for days until you got a text from someone you really weren’t expecting. Nathan. ‘Can you just tell me you’re okay? They’re both worried about you.’

You knew you had to reply to that one. Because it wasn’t about feelings or what you were planning to do about your relationships with Tyson and Andre. It was about your safety. ‘I’m fine, tell them there’s nothing to worry about’.

‘He probably doesn’t want me to say this but Tyson is a mess. Could you call or at least just text him yourself?’

And the pain you feel when you read that text is indescribable, a mixture of sadness and guilt. You had never meant to hurt Tyson. You just needed space, needed to figure out what you were doing, how you were feeling about it all.

But you dial his number immediately, curling up on the couch as you wait for him to answer.

“Y/N?” he answers, as if it were more likely that someone else would have your phone and have decided to call you than it was for you to actually be calling.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Sorry I didn’t answer you sooner, Nathan texted and said you were....worried.”

“Well, yeah, I was worried,” Tyson exclaims. “I don’t hear from you for three days after you have a full on meltdown in a bar. Why wouldn’t I be worried?”

“Don’t...don’t make it sound like I did something wrong,” you whisper.

“Picking him was wrong, Y/N. Picking him when you had someone who was in love with you right in front of you was wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” you whisper, adrenaline pumping through your body anxiously at the way his tone was raised in frustration and anger.

“Nothing,” Tyson mutters and you can hear commotion muffled on the other end of the line. “I have to go, we’re heading to the arena. Thanks for finally letting me know you’re fine.”

“Tyson,” you plead, the angry tone in his voice setting off a panic inside you. “Tyson, please, I’m sorry.”

“I really have to go,” he tells you before hanging up.

The silence after the call ends is haunting and you feel a few tears slip from your eyes. The last thing you ever wanted was to hurt your relationship with Tyson but you were beginning to feel like you had done just that. Was it him? Was he talking about himself? Was he in love with you? Or was the way he said it meaningful...was he at one point in love with you but not anymore?

You watch the game that night. You couldn’t not watch. Couldn’t miss watching a game when the only reason not to watch it was because you were upset with Tyson and Andre. You watch Tyson score a goal and cheer to yourself alone in your living room forgetting for a second that things weren’t great between you two. When the game ends with the Avs winning you pull your phone out, unsure if you should text him or not. You always did when they were playing away games, win or lose. It felt wrong, petty, to not text him tonight.

‘Congratulations, you played great tonight’ you type out, followed by a smiling emoji.

‘Thanks’ is all you get back hours later and your heart aches. Because when was that all Tyson said to you? He was never that brief. And you can’t think of anything else you should or could say, going to bed that night with a heavy feeling in your chest.

It’s only a couple more days till Tyson is back in Denver but it feels like months. You missed Tyson so much and it made it so much worse not being able to text him, not having late night facetime calls where you talked in quiet tones, both so tired that you couldn’t get the energy to speak any louder.

You had just gotten home from work when you heard a knock on your door, walking to it hesitantly. When you pull it open your eyes widen, shocked to find Tyson standing in front of you. “Hi,” you whisper, dropping your hand from the door as you stare at him.

“I missed you,” is all Tyson has to say before you’re stepping forward, wrapping your arms around him. His arms find your waist, slowly walking you backwards so you weren’t standing in the hallway anymore. And your eyes are filled with tears again. This time though you’re not angry or upset, you’re simply relieved. Relieved that you hadn’t ruined your friendship. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just,” you begin, pulling back to wipe your eyes, laughing softly in response. You had sure done a lot of crying in front of Tyson. But you also spent more time with Tyson than anyone else in your life, so you figured that had to make sense on some level. “I’m just glad you’re here. I was so scared, Tys.”

“Scared of what?” Tyson asks quickly, his voice raising slightly, defensive as he holds your arms gently.

“Losing you,” you whisper.

Tyson’s lips part, eyes softening, a heavy breath leaving his lips. “You’re not going to lose me...I love you, Y/N,” he admits, voice shaky.

“What you said on the phone?” you whisper, watching him nod in response.

“I was talking about me. But it’s not going to change our friendship because you don’t feel the same way. I care about you just as much...as my friend. My best friend.”

Your mind is a blur as you listen to him, your eyes glancing down to his lips and you can’t stop thinking about kissing him. Because even though you had history with Andre it was only Tyson who you were thinking about since that night where everything spiraled out of control. And it’s not like you hadn’t felt strange things towards him before. In the happiness you felt when he invited you to things with ‘some of the other girlfriends and wives’ as if you fit into that ground, in how jealous you felt at the idea of him being with another girl, the guilt you felt when you lied to him about sleeping with Andre in the beginning, like you were cheating on him.

“What are you thinking?” Tyson whispers, breaking you from your thoughts.

Leaning up you press your lips to his and he kisses you back immediately. His lips are soft and his touch is gentle. The kiss lasts a couple more seconds before he pulls back. “Do you actually feel the same way towards me or as you just doing this because you don’t want to lose me?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Tyson. The thought of you being with anyone else makes me nauseous and that’s so selfish of me to say now, after everything. I know that. But I never thought about us like that. I thought my jealousy was just part of our friendship but I don’t think...I don’t think that’s normal.”

Tyson nods slowly, reaching over and taking your hands in his. “So what does this mean?”

Shrugging you look at him for a second before a smile spreads on your lips. “Tyson, will you go for dinner with me tonight?” you ask, realizing the question didn’t carry the punch you had hoped for. “As a date,” you add quickly. “Will you go on a date with me?”

Tyson smiles, chuckling quickly as he nods. “I’d love to.”

And you two took it from there. It was a first date you had been on where you were both already completely into each other, when you already knew almost every detail of each other's lives. And perhaps because of that or perhaps simply because it’s Tyson it’s the best first date of your life.

After dinner you end up back at your apartment and you make a joke about not sleeping with someone on the first date but it’s barely an hour before you’re on your bed, hands and lips all over each other. And Tyson fucks you like he’s trying to make up for the months of being so enamored by you but unable to say or do anything about it. You sleep better than you had in awhile, with Tyson’s arms wrapped around you. And when you wake up he’s still there, still holding you like he was scared someone would steal you away.

And you wake him with a few soft kisses on his cheek. “Will you go out for breakfast with me?” you whisper, Andre’s comment about not going for breakfast with him the morning after hooking up the first time in the back of your mind.

Tyson smiles sleepily, nodding as he pulls you back, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Of course,” he mutters tiredly.

And by the time you two get up and get yourselves together it’s definitely brunch. But it’s perfect. Everything felt so right and comfortable.

Part Four

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