#also I’m closing asks because finals are coming up and I need to focus lol. love you guys tho
Note
Very silly suggestion for Vlad!clone!Dani, but you've had the suggestions for 'Vladislava' and 'Madison'... why not just have her name be 'Vladison'? Not only would our favorite failure do it, it would mean Jack could call her 'Vladi' and Vlad could HATE IT. His daughter will be referred to by her full name at all times because it is RESPECTFUL (and also he didn't think through 'Vladi' being about the only viable nickname for 'Vladison' until it was too late).
I see your absolutely hilarious suggestion and raise you: Danny is the only one who calls her that because he can’t stand her and he DEFINITELY isn’t calling her “Madi”
#danny phantom#also I’m closing asks because finals are coming up and I need to focus lol. love you guys tho#asks
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How JJK men react when (y/n) gets injured
Pairing: Nanami x reader; Megumi x reader; Toji x reader; Geto x reader
Word Count: 2,4k
Warnings: injury (lol), listen I know Geto's one isn't that realistic, I just needed something with a lot of fluff, don't come at me okay, also might be shitty because my sick head isn't funcional at the moment so have mercy
How Gojo reacts when (y/n) gets injured can be found here
Aaaaand Choso with a injured (y/n) who has blood phobia here
Nanami Kento
You weren’t fast enough. The second the bullet enters your skin, you know you fucked up.
“(y/n)!”, Nanami’s distant voice calls out your name.
You clench your teeth, blood pumping in your ears while a stabbing pain spreads in your guts. This is bad. Very very bad. This is a mission you have to complete together, Nanami and Yuji both rely on you. Fuck, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer, even a grade 1. And then you get hit by a bullet this easily?
How pathetic.
It seems like the weight of your own body forces you to your knees, warmth spreading from your stomach over your lower body. Slowly but surely, the stabbing pain in your guts gets less noticeable, you have to fight desperately to keep your eyes from shutting.
Nanami…It’s not fair that you let him hang like this, hit by a random bullet on that random Wednesday. After all, you still had so much to tell him, experiences to share. What about the plans you’ve made earlier about finally asking him out? The words slip off your tongue with every passing second. No matter how hard every fiber of your being fights against the darkness, it proceeds to consume you.
“Goddamnit (y/n)”, Nanami hisses through gritted teeth when he finally reaches you.
“Yuji, take care of that man with the gun!”
“Hey, you can’t die on me today. Keep your eyes open for me, yeah? Don’t close them. Are you able to stand up?”
So much blood. The whole floor underneath you is covered in crimson, making it hard to breathe for Nanami. This shouldn’t have happened, he is fucking responsible for this, he should have kept his eyes open, he-
“I’m so sorry about leaving you hanging, Nanami”, you breathe out.
His heart sinks, hand frantically pressing against your gaping wound while his shaky fingers try to dial Shoko’s number on his phone.
“You won’t leave me today. I’m taking care of you. You’re safe with me.”
A weak smile forms itself on your tired lips as he speaks to Shoko on the phone in hushed tones. While everyone around him thinks he’s harsh and cold-hearted, you know that Nanami is in fact a tender man that puts the safety of others over himself without blinking. You always admired him for how he carries himself with so much class, looking cool while doing the most banal tasks.
“How is your pain level? Do you need anything? Shoko will be here in a minute, I promise”, he speaks to you in a calm but shaky voice.
“I don’t feel any pain. I just feel really really tired.”
Your eyes threaten to flutter shut again when Nanami’s thumb begins to caress your cheek gently.
“Everything will be alright, I promise (y/n)”, he softly murmurs.
You can tell by the way he looks down at you that he means what he says, the way his calm orbs glister making you tear up.
“I really wanted…to ask you out…tonight…”
Every word rolls off your tongue like a heavy stone while your mind seems to let you down.
“I would love that. Just stay with me, okay? Then I’ll invite you to dinner, I’ll even cook your favorite meal for you.”
“That sounds…wonderful…”
“But to do that, you’ll need to hold on for me a little longer, sweetheart. Focus on my voice, breathe with me”, he instructs you.
“Can you…hold me for a while?”
“Of course”, he replies without thinking, firm arms wrapping themselves around your shivering body instantly.
Megumi Fushiguro
Even though you feel like fainting, you don’t stop running behind him. Damn, that curse did really hit you where it hurts, your stabbed thigh feeling like it’s going to give up on you with every step you take.
“Did that curse hurt you?”, he shouts in your direction.
You should really tell him, you know you need help as soon as possible. But something inside you is too proud to open up. After all, the boy in front of you is none other Megumi Fushiguro. You can’t show him weakness, not in a million lifetimes.
“No”, you lie.
Just in time, you make it out of the building that collapses into itself behind you, a wave of rubble and ashes blowing over your head while you lay down, trying desperately not to groan. You press your hand against your thigh to somehow stop the pain, only to get greeted by the sickening sight of blood all over your hands. You swallow heavy, blood running between your fingertips.
“(y/n)? (y/n), where are you, oh, there you-“
Megumi stops in his tracks, eyes widen in horror when is gaze meets the flood of crimson that now covers the floor underneath you.
“You idiot, why did you lie to me?”, he hisses, instantly rushing to your side.
Oh god, there’s a gaping hole in your thigh – a gaping hole that runs like a waterfall. While you’re not that critically injured, the attack might have hit a crucial vein or artery. And that means you could in fact bleed out within the next few minutes if he doesn’t act right now.
Your toe-curling cry echoes through the barracks when Megumi presses his hand against your thigh with full force, making you see stars while a big lump forms in your throat.
“Serves you right. You should have told me that you’re hurt, you know that right? How many fingers?”
He holds up his other hand so close to your face that you can see nothing but his fingertips, a silent laughter escaping your blue colored lips.
“I’m serious (y/n)! Stop laughing and answer the question”, he grumbles.
“5”, you reply weakly.
“It’s two”, he murmurs, eyes scanning over your so worn-out looking face.
“You look rather pale.”
“Oh, I’m not feeling that great to be honest”, you mutter, ice cold sweat clamming to your skin.
He lets out his breath, gaze fixated on you. It seems like his anger fades away the more he looks at you, shivering uncontrollably while your eyes flutter open and shut all the time. Urgh, even though you’re suborn as hell, you absolutely don’t deserve to feel like this.
“Come on, stop acting up. You’ve had worse.”
You don’t reply. Instead, your hand grabs his arm, holding onto him for what feels like dear life as a single tear runs down your face. You hate to admit it, but you’re scared as hell. If feels like life is slipping through your fingers, seconds play before your eyes like a movie. This is the first time you’ve ever got injured like that. And even if Megumi tries to play it cool, you can tell by the way he scrunches his forehead that it’s looking anything but great.
“I just didn’t want you to think I’m weak”, you admit quietly.
His heart skips a beat, his features soften in an instant.
“Are you kidding? I’d never think you’re weak, (y/n). To be honest I’m surprised you haven’t fainted yet”, he remarks dryly.
To be honest he is surprised that he himself hasn’t fainted, considering all the flood that spills through his fingertips. But he has to be strong, he has to get through this with you.
“Pinky promise?”, you croak, holding up your shaky hand with all the strength that’s left in your body.
“Pinky promise”, Megumi whispers, intertwining his finger with your little one.
Toji Fushiguro
“Oooops my bad, that one should have normally killed you”, the man in front of you mumbles, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.
You shake in pure horror, pain rushing through your shoulder as you hold onto the gaping wound his bullet left in your sensitive skin.
“Please don’t kill me”, you weep, crawling backwards until your back hits the ice cold wall.
Spilling tears take your sight completely, you can’t help but burst into weeping without any mercy. Toji stares down at you, cold eyes surprised by your sight.
“I think I’ve never seen someone bawling this much. Did it really hurt that bad, huh?”
You stare at him through wet lashes, whole body on fire when his frame comes closer and closer. No, you need to run as fast as you can, away from this wicked place, out of his sight.
But instead, you sit still, glazed eyes fixated on his stunning features.
Roughly, he grabs your face, making you weep all over again.
“You’re actually quite cute…Maybe too cute to die…”
“Oh, come on sweet thing, stop crying for me will you?”
His thumb traces over your puffy cheeks, wipes away the trail of tears his bullet and the promise of death that’s threatening in his eyes left on your porcelain skin.
You can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like a fish on land with your hand still pressed against your aching shoulder.
“Sorry ‘bout that”, he mumbles, other hand reaching for your shoulder.
“Please don’t hurt me”, you cry out, flinching under his surprisingly gentle touch.
“I’m a man of honor, I’d never hurt you”, he replies with casual voice.
“Ahh, nothing too bad. A few kisses and you’re fine.”
You blink against the swell of tears, urgently trying to calm yourself down. Aching, fear and insecurity simply take your breath away. But the man in front of you…Despite looking so dangerous, it’s almost as if his face softened, as if he really means what he said.
“Now stop cryin’, ‘kay? I’m sorry ‘bout that shoulder of yours, thought you’re here to kill me or something.”
“I would never kill anyone”, you reply with shaky voice.
Why would you come here to kill him? All of this makes no sense to you. You just walked home from work, ready to take a bath and watch Netflix when all of the sudden, all this men came out of nowhere, dragging you along with him until the man in front of you killed them and shoot you.
“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t princess. Just a misunderstanding.”
“It hurts”, you press out, a shocking wave of pain throbbing through your arm when you try to shift your weight.
“Wouldn’t do that if I was you. Let’s make a deal: I’ll get someone to stitch you up and you’ll spend the night with me, huh?”
Your doe eyes stare up at him in nothing but innocence. Oh, you truly know nothing about the cruel world around you, probably not even able to see curses. What a cute little thing you are, too good for the world around you and especially Toji himself. But he just can’t resist.
“And you’re really not going to kill me?”, you whine into his hand.
Gently, he wraps his fingertips around your chin.
“Of course not, princess. You’re way too precious to die”, he purrs.
Geto Suguru
You know that it’s stupid, that Geto is more than capable to look after himself. But the second a curse rushes his direction, you sprint forwards, shielding his body with your own.
Resulting in not only the teeth of the curse scratching your skin, but one of Geto’s curses hitting your head with full force.
You fall to the hard ground immediately, soul leaving your body behind. Instead of pain, you just feel numb, staring into the sound while the only thing that reminds you that you’re still alive is the growing ringing in your ears.
Geto’s heart drops the second you fall to the ground in front of him, naked fear crawling up his spine. No, no, no. This can’t be true. He didn’t just hit you full force, right? Instinctively, he falls to his knees besides you, grabbing your shoulders.
“Please tell be you’re alright, (y/n)”, he repeats over and over, hands holding onto you for dear life.
He knows you are tuff, that you can take a lot. But this…
Please don’t let it be too much.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you”, he mumbles, fingertips now gently stroking over your hair.
All you can do is stare into his brown eyes above you, body refusing its service completely. God, how absolutely stunning this man looks. Yes, it should be forbidden to look this good. Maybe you should ask him out when your mouth is working again, a nice date in a park or something. His facial features look so delicious that you want to let your hands glide along his jawline, just the way the other hand is doing right now.
“I would love to lick that”, you mutter so suffocated that Geto almost misses it.
Almost. Along with your fingertips that move up and down his jaw, his face reddens in an instant. What has gotten into you? Since when are you this flirty, this straightforward? You must’ve hit your head pretty badly.
“(y/n), I think you should see a doctor”, he suggests while awkwardly scratching the back of his head.
“I think I should see more of you, handsome”, you babble out.
“You hit your head pretty badly.”
“And your head is pretty.”
He signs. Although your sugary words make his heart hammer against his ribcage, he has to remind himself that you’re probably having a concussion - at least. At the moment, he can’t take your words seriously, no matter how hard he wants them to be true.
“Okay, I’ll call Shoko now. Do you feel alright? Does your head hurt? Does something else hurt? Please talk to me, (y/n).”
You smile at him widely, too mesmerized by the way that one strand of hair falls so effortlessly on his striking face.
“What a shame I never told you how beautiful you are”, you blurt out, fingertips grabbing nothing but air in an attempt to get a hold of his hair.
He can’t hold a small grin back. God, how are you doing that? Looking so fine with your arm ripped open by a curse and your eyes roaming around without an aim?
“Look, I’m not the brightest tool in the…toolbox.”
Geto raises an eyebrow in amusement at your creative phrase.
“But I…I mean it…Suguru…”, you mutter out his name.
“Let’s talk about this again when your head wasn’t hit by a curse shaped like a huge dragon, okay?”, he softly whispers, hand still stroking through your messy hair.
“Yeah…S-sure…”
_____________________________________________________________
Now that you've made it this far
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jjk gojo#nanami kento#nanami x reader#jjk nanami#jujutsu nanami#megumi fushiguro#jjk megumi#megumi x reader#jujutsu megumi#jujutsu kaisen megumi#fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk toji#toji x you#jjk getou#geto suguru#jjk geto#geto x reader#jujutsu geto
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wanna get out of here? | joe burrow x reader
description: an impromptu getaway is exactly what you and joe needed
a/n: ahhh my second fic!! all the love on my first one gave me the motivation to go and write another one :) i hope you all like this one!
warnings: smut (hope it’s not too bad since it’s my first time writing it LOL), language
word count: 6 k
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Wednesday
The sounds of hammering rain and thunder were all you could focus on as you were sitting on the couch, curled up in a blanket trying to finish an overly complex project for work. You had been trying to finish the final section for the past week but you simply could not get rid of the restless feeling that had engulfed you over the past few days.
Joe, on the other hand, was sitting right next to you. He was staring at the TV which had on some random rerun episode of The Office. Normally, he’d be laughing along to the show no matter how many times he had seen the episode, but today he was quiet & agitated. He had been overwhelmed this past month with intense rehab for his wrist injury; on top of which he had his off-season workouts every day which had also been incredibly vigorous. He was mentally and physically burnt out and needed something to take his mind off of everything. He noticed that you also had been swamped with work which caused you to be on edge the whole week, preventing you two from having any real 1 on 1 time like you usually do, and he wasn’t having it.
You were typing away on your computer, another idea that would probably lead to nothing, before you heard the TV turn off.
You turned your head to Joe and saw his blank face. “Everything Okay?” you questioned while reaching for his hand.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asked while interlocking your hands, still looking expressionless.
“Joey there is literally a monsoon happening outside right now,” you deadpanned as you squeezed his hand.
“Not out there. I mean do you wanna get out of Ohio?”.
“Who are you and what have you done with my fiancee,” you laughed.
“What?” he asked, looking quizzical as if he had no idea why you said that.
“You, the same man that never leaves his house unless it’s business or football related. And sometimes due to a forced social activity, or occasionally to have fun, wants to leave Ohio? You’re practically a turtle that stays in its shell all day,” you say before going back to your work project.
Joe is slightly taken aback by what you said. Deep down he knows you aren’t wrong, he doesn’t go out very often, which made what he said next even more necessary.
“Let’s go to the Bahamas this weekend. I can call up Ted and get a jet here and we can leave Friday morning. I’m thinking we stay at a lowkey house on a private beach for maybe 4 days,” he says.
You think he’s just messing with you but when you look over at him, he looks serious.
“Where is this coming from?” you say with worry in your voice. In the 5 years, you and Joe have been together, he’d never sprung an idea of a vacation on you by himself, it was always mutual. And you’d never left the States before either. You close your computer and turn to face him.
“I’m just so fucking tired,” he says with a sigh. “These past few weeks have been really intense and I just need a break.”
Your face drops as he continues. He’d been under so much pressure lately with OTA’s slowly approaching and training amping up; plus all the background noise. He’d start throwing in the next month or so and deep down he was nervous. He didn’t know how it was going to go and if all this rehab was even worth it if he was never going to be able to get back to where he was.
“And you’ve been stressed out all week because of work and it feels like we haven’t had just ‘us’ time,” he adds.
Joe was right. He’d be gone all day with either rehab or workouts and the only time you two would get together would be dinner. And by dinner, you’d be too exhausted to do anything but eat and rush off to bed.
You spend a few moments contemplating his offer. It would be nice to get away for a few days and you both needed the change of environment badly.
“Okay, let’s do it," you say with a smile as you pull him in for a hug.
“But just so you know, since we’d be leaving in 2 days, I’m going to be an absolute nightmare when it comes to packing,” you say before planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Oh, I'm well aware. You only get 2 days to stress about packing and not a whole week like usual,” he laughs.
Thursday Evening
You both spent the majority of the day planning your impromptu vacation. You found the perfect beach house on the other side of Nassau, away from the main part of the island. It was hidden by palm trees and had a private beach which made it easy to unwind without any prying eyes. You would spend the week there and pick out a few activities nearby to occupy your time. You also chose a few places to eat although you both decided to cook at home for the majority of your stay.
Currently, you were sitting on your closet floor attempting to pack your suitcase but were majorly failing. Packing was never your strong suit, especially if you had to pack the day before a trip. The closet looked like a war zone, things were everywhere.
“This is the wrong time to not be able to find anything,” you say to yourself while getting up once again to hunt for missing items.
Joe walked into the closet and saw you frantically pacing back and forth looking for something.
“Babe, are you Okay?” He asked while sitting down on the stool.
“Have you seen my new white bikini? Or my sunglasses? Or my tank tops?” You asked, aggravated that you couldn’t find your stuff.
“I literally cannot find anything,” You added before giving Joe a look. He knew that look all too well, you were 1 misplaced item away from having a full breakdown.
He got up from the stool and walked over to where you were, put his hands on your shoulders, and said “Y/N you could wear a potato sack and still look amazing. Stop stressing about it, this vacation is supposed to get rid of the stress. Not add onto it,”
You let out a deep breath and say “You’re right. It’s just us anyway. I’ll just pack some nice dresses and stuff whatever in the suitcase,”
“The fewer clothes the better,” Joe smirks and says before leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips.
“You’re insatiable,” you say against his lips.
After you finish packing your suitcase, you get ready for bed since you have a fairly early flight. It took Joe about 15 minutes to pack his things, which came as no surprise since he is the biggest outfit repeater you know. You’re just about ready to doze off before you feel Joe’s hand creep up your leg and squeeze your thigh.
“Mmm Joe not right now,” you say half asleeply. “Go to bed,”
“Not that,” he states. “I can’t fall asleep,” he mumbles.
You let out a sigh before turning to face him. No way you’re getting any sleep now. “What’s wrong,” you say as you move his messy curls out of his eyes.
“I don’t know, I just can’t fall asleep,” he says.
You knew Joe too well to know when something was bothering him. His confession earlier was only the tip of the iceberg. Something was bugging him and you needed him to talk to you.
“What’s going on in that brain of yours,” you say as you play with his curls.
He stayed silent for a few heartbeats, not knowing if he should unload his heavy thoughts on you right before a vacation. But he knew that it was just you. You’d always listen to whatever he had to say, no matter the time or place.
“Just everything.” He says, meeting your eyes. “Rehab has been going great and training has been too, and I should be happy about that but I just can’t get rid of that feeling,”
“What feeling?” You question.
“Feeling like I won’t be good enough. I know what people are saying; overpaid, overrated, no rings, injury-prone. And they aren’t wrong. I don’t have anything to back up why people think I’m a top 3 quarterback,”
Your heart breaks as he continues to talk. The fact that Joe feels like he isn’t good enough is mind-boggling to you. He’s one of the best damn players you’ve ever seen and you wish you could do something to get rid of his doubts, but you knew that that was something he had to do on his own.
“But you do have things to back it up. You had one of the greatest college football seasons ever. Winning the Natty and the Heisman was only the start of your legacy. You were drafted by an organization that was in desperate need of saving and you made an impact that not many could have done,” you say as you see a small smile on his face.
“You had a shitty rookie season with tearing basically everything in your knee, but you worked hard and came back better than ever fucking before. You went on and led the team to their first playoff win in 30 years and went to the fucking Super Bowl in your first full season,” you add.
“Yeah, you didn’t win. But you put the entire league on notice and showed them who the hell you are. And then you did it again next year even though you didn’t go all the way. This past year was rough and didn’t go the way anyone would have expected, but this is part of what makes you, you.” you say with a smile as he stares deeply into your eyes.
“You thrive when there’s adversity. It makes you work harder for what you want and it always pays off one way or another. You always come out better and stronger. You are a great quarterback and are absolutely more than good enough. You’re going to have your moment soon, and I know it,” you conclude.
Joe stares into your eyes for a few more heartbeats. You knew exactly what to say to bring him back down from whatever cloud he was stuck on and he was so thankful for you.
“I love you,” he said as he pulled you onto his lap, pressing kisses all over your face.
“I love you more, always,” you laugh as he kisses the hell out of you.
You two spent the rest of the night in each other's embrace. You finally felt at peace once you heard Joe’s soft snores fill the room and finally got some sleep.
Friday
You both got up pretty early for your flight, taking a quick shower before packing the car and heading to the airport. After boarding the plane you both took off your shoes, pulled out your fav blanket, and got comfy.
“Are you excited?” Joe beams.
“Excited is an understatement, Burrow,” you smirk. “Getting you out of Ohio might be my favorite part,”.
“I’m so looking forward to getting some sun and swimming in that big pool,” he says, referring to the massive pool that’s a part of the house you rented.
“It’s like you’re a whole new person,” you smile while leaning your head on his shoulder. He smiles and kisses your forehead before pulling out his laptop to turn on a movie.
“Oooo what are we gonna watch?” you excitedly question.
“I was thinking of either ‘Grown-Ups’ or ‘21 Jump Street’,” he responds.
“Hmm, let’s do Jump Street, it’s been a while since we watched that,” you say.
You spent the rest of the flight watching movies, playing a few card games, and eventually taking a small nap before the plane landed.
A few hours later
After the plane landed, you both drove to your house for the week and it was like something out of a fairytale. The house overlooked the beach and the crystal blue water. Lush green palm trees surrounding the house provided ample privacy, especially for the large open pool in the backyard. You two settled into the house before changing into your swimsuits for a nice afternoon dip in the pool. You did end up finding your new white bikini, which was perfect for the occasion.
Joe walked out of the bathroom and saw you brushing your hair in the mirror. His eyes trailed down to your bare legs, up to your perfect ass, then to your toned stomach, and straight to your chest. You looked so sexy and he was in heaven. He walked up to you and hugged you from behind, his warmth causing you to melt into his arms.
Your eyes met his in the mirror, “Like what you see, Burrow?” you teased.
“Absolutely,” he chuckled as he swayed you two back and forth, pressing a kiss on the back of your shoulder while sliding his hand down to your ass. Joe was grinning like a love-struck fool as he watched you close your eyes and melt into his embrace. He was making you feel more relaxed than you’d ever been before and you both were loving it.
You both ventured out to the pool and sat down on the pool chairs, hoping to get a quick tanning sesh in before a swim. A few minutes in, Joe found himself staring at the pool when he got an idea.
“I’m gonna jump into the pool,” he casually said.
You quickly turned your head to him and said, “Are you crazy, the water will get everywhere,” You gasped.
“It’s just us though, nobody around to complain. Besides, I can’t do it in the pool at home since we spent way too much money on redoing the backyard. At least here there isn’t any vegetable garden at risk of being destroyed,” he smirked before quickly running back to the patio door and launching himself into the pool, not giving you a moment to lecture him.
The water did in fact get everywhere but it was worth it when you saw Joe come up from the water. He shook his head back and forth to get the water out of his hair before he took his hand and attempted to slick it back. Your eyes navigated to his muscular chest which had stray water droplets sliding down his abdomen, back into the water. God, he looked so hot like this.
“Like what you see, Burrow,” he teased as he noticed your expression.
“Yes, in fact I do. Very much actually,” you say while getting off the chair. “And I’m not a ‘Burrow’ yet, still gotta wait a few months before that,” you say as you make your way into the pool.
“Well, you’re practically already my wifey sooo,” he trails off before swimming over to the steps and helping you into the pool.
You giggle at his words. He couldn’t wait to marry you and he never failed to make it known.
You immediately latch onto him when you're in the pool. This was pretty normal for you both. You’d always use him as a floatie and make him do all the work while you just lay on him and relaxed.
A few moments later you release yourself from his embrace, making him slightly confused at the sudden loss of contact.
“Y/N come back,” he whines out.
“Someone’s clingy today,” you say while playfully rolling your eyes and swimming away from him.
He stared at you for a few moments, a sad look on his face while you continued to swim around and away from him. You felt bad that you’d left him hanging but you were having too much fun teasing him.
“Come and catch me shiesty,” you yelled. He hated it when you called him that. That nickname was only for football-related individuals to use and he thought it was a little cringe whenever you would use it. Not in a bad way, it’s just he preferred you calling him other names that football-related people can’t use. You knew how he felt about it but you also knew that this would for sure set him off.
“Oh you’re done for,” he playfully growled before swimming after you. The pool was massive so you had just enough space to get away from him.
You two were swimming circles around each other, occasionally splashing water into each other's faces in hopes of catching each other off guard. Your arms began to get tired of swimming around so you stopped by the ledge to take a breather while Joe was settled on the other side of the pool.
Before you knew it, Joe had swum over to you and pulled you back into his arms.
“Got you,” you whispered against your ear.
“I guess you did,” you whispered back.
“You look absolutely gorgeous by the way,” he said looking down into your eyes. “I love this bikini on you,”
You blushed at his sweet comments. He never failed to tell you how pretty you looked.
“Ya know, I look even better with it off,” you tease.
Joe’s face dropped immediately when you said that. He’d been horny since he saw you in that bikini but had to compose himself since you both were looking forward to swimming in the pool. But now that you’d gotten your swim time in, nothing was stopping him.
He slowly pressed you against the wall of the pool and kissed his way up your neck right up to your sweet spot.
“Joe,” you moaned out.
“What baby?” He asked, knowing exactly what you wanted.
“I need you,” you whined.
He looked at you momentarily before lifting you out of the pool and rushing you inside to the large bedroom. You let out a squeal as he pushed you back onto the bed. Joe climbed over you and situated his body in between your thighs, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You stayed kissing each other for a few minutes before you felt something hard poke at your stomach.
“Getting eager now aren’t we,” you tease.
“Please, I’ve been waiting to get you in this bed since I saw you in this bikini,” he grinned.
“Then I suggest you do something about it,” you replied.
Joe smiled and started to untie the strands of your bikini top before tossing it to the side. He kissed his way down to your perfect breasts, swirling his lips around your sensitive bud which caused you to let out a breathy moan.
“Joe,” you moaned out while shoving your hands in his hair.
He spent a few moments sucking on your breasts before he continued his way down. He pressed a few sloppy kisses on your stomach before eventually making his way down to where you needed him the most. He slowly peeled off your bottoms which was driving you insane.
“Joe please,” you whined out.
“Patience is key, baby,” he teased.
He threw your bottoms to the side as he made his way back up to your heat. “You’re so wet,” he says while ghosting his fingers over your folds.
“Joe I swear to god-,” You suddenly felt his warm tongue lapping at your folds which caused you to let out another moan, “Ohh Fuck”.
He buried his warm tongue inside your core as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. He moved one of his hands up to cup your breast as the other was firmly on your thigh. Joe moved up and started to rhythmically suck on your clit which made you see stars; something which he made you see often. “Joey, fuck don’t stop,” you said breathlessly.
“You like that?” he chuckled against your core, sending vibrations throughout your body. Those 3 words always managed to get you more horny than you already were. "Yeah," you whispered.
He went back to lapping at your folds as he used his thumb to rub your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers was sending you over the edge. You started to arch your back which caused you to lift your hips slightly but Joe pushed them back down as he continued to send you into a frenzy. You fisted your hands into his hair and started to pull on the loose curls which caused Joe to let out a soft moan against you.
“Joe I’m so close,” you whispered as you pushed his head closer to your core. You felt a familiar warmth in your belly as you were moaning Joe’s name out (which was driving him insane). Joe thrusted one of his fingers into you, causing the imaginary rubber band in your lower belly to snap; feeling a familiar gush of liquid pool below you. You were overcome with a feeling of pure pleasure and satisfaction as he cleaned up your mess with his skillful mouth. He pressed delicate kisses on the insides of your thighs before moving back up and pushing his lips against yours again.
“You’re so hot,” he said in between kisses.
You felt a blush creep up on your face. “I’m flattered Mr. Burrow, but have you seen yourself”.
“Shut up,” he chuckled before going back to kissing you. You stopped kissing him after a few moments and said “Joe, I need you inside me.”
“Your wish is my command babe,” he replied as he pulled down his swim trunks and threw them to the side. His cock was rock hard and the sight of it had you sizzling with anticipation.
Your core was slick with your arousal which made it easy for him to push his dick into you. The tip slowly teasing your folds before he buries himself inside of you, causing you to let out a loud moan. You will never get tired of the feeling of him inside you.
He started slowly thrusting into you which made you wrap your legs around him, wanting him deeper asap.
“Joe, Fuck,” you moaned out. “Faster baby,”.
He began snapping his hips against you, faster & harder than before. “God, you feel so good Y/N,” he moaned out. You brought him in for another kiss, this time quick, messy, and sloppy. He continued thrusting into you and you bucked your hips each time to match his movements. The sound of your arousal and skin-hitting skin filled the room as you two were caught up in the euphoria that was happening between you.
Joe buried his face into your neck, sucking on your sweet spot, as your hands found themselves in his hair again. You were on Cloud 9 right now and it was all because of him.
“Joe, don’t stop. Shit, you feel too good,” you moaned. You felt him move deeper inside of you as he repeatedly hit your cervix.
He continued to pound into you, making you feel like nothing else mattered but this moment. You both felt your arousal building up, begging to be released.
“Fuck Y/N, I’m close,” he panted as he slowed down.
“Me too,” you whimpered.
He picked up the pace of his thrusts once again, this time moving one of his hands down to your heat, toying with your clit. “Fuck,” you moaned out for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered. You felt your walls clench around him, signaling you were almost there. Joe felt you clench around him and pinched your clit which set off your orgasm. Your chest heaved up and down as you whimpered out his name while seeing stars again. He continued to thrust into you, chasing his pleasure.
“Y/N,” Joe moaned out. You knew he was close by the way his thrusts started to become sporadic.
“Come on baby,” you encouraged while pulling at his hair and kissing his neck.
After a few rough thrusts, Joe let out a loud moan as you felt hot spurts of his cum fill you up. He collapsed on top of you as you both panted, needing a moment to recover after the workout you two just had. You moved one of your hands to his back, softly sliding it up and down to help him relax.
“I love you,” he softly said as he kissed your cheek, making you smile.
“I love you more,” you whisper in his ear as he buries his face into your neck again.
The next day
The next morning was pretty chill for you both. You had breakfast at the local beachside cafe, stuffing your faces with delicious fresh fruit from the island before embarking on a pleasant morning walk on the beach.
“This is nice,” Joe says as you both walk hand in hand alongside the water, a content look on his face.
You look up at him and smile, “Very nice,” you giggle. “Although, I don’t know how you’re not uncomfortable with walking on the beach in shoes,” you question while looking at your bare feet and then his shoes.
“You never know when a crab might come up and pinch your toes,” he says with a straight face.
“Righhhht,” you say while relishing the feeling of sand between your toes.
“So, what should we do today? We pretty much have the whole day since we’re cooking at home tonight,” he says while squeezing your hand.
“Hmmm,” you wonder for a second. “We could go out on one of the boats?” you carefully question while looking up at your fiancee.
Joe did not like going on boats. He hated the idea of being out on the open water with no way of getting back to shore other than using the boat. He always questioned what you would do if the boat broke down or even started sinking. You always told him the sinking part was highly unlikely, but you blamed yourself for that worry because you’ve made him watch Titanic with you one too many times. He also didn’t like how you couldn’t see what was in the water. But lucky for you, the water in the Bahamas was crystal clear.
He stayed silent for a few moments, making you a little sad since you wanted to experience something new with him.
“Let’s do it,” he says while flashing you a smile.
You looked up at him, a little surprised. “Really?” you beam.
“Yes, now let’s go before I change my mind,” he says before stopping to pick you up. He doesn’t give you a moment to respond because he throws you over his shoulders causing you to let out a squeal. He leads you both back to the house so you can get freshened up.
You both got changed into your swimsuits before walking over to the docks and renting a boat for the day. You weren’t sure how you managed to get Joe to go on the boat, but you certainly were not complaining.
The driver had taken the boat not too far from shore, which kept Joe’s mind at ease. You swam in the water for a little bit and enjoyed a few drinks.
“Mmm, this like the best Mai Tai I’ve ever had,” you say while taking another sip. Joe was currently in the water in front of you, while you were seated on the steps of the boat, legs partially in the water.
“Come in the water,” Joe says while splashing some water onto you.
“Mmm, I think I’m good up here,” you tease while placing your drink to the side.
Joe swam closer to you and said “Nope.”
You were confused at what he meant but then you felt his wet hand wrap around your wrist.
“Joe, don’t even think about it,” you playfully growled, knowing exactly what he was about to do. He didn’t listen and pulled you into the water, causing a big splash. You came back up to the surface with a frown.
“Someone’s mad,” Joe laughs. You swim over to him while he is fully anticipating an ass-kicking but is pleasantly surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.
You laugh and say, “If this is mad, let me be mad more often,”.
A few hours pass and you both are sitting on the boat in the net seating area that was right above the water. Joe had put on one of his many bucket hats and shades and was laid flat against the net, soaking in the golden sun. You were applying another layer of sunscreen before noticing his chest turning red. You knew he’d be a pain in the ass if he got sunburnt so you took the bottle and moved closer to him.
You squeezed out a dab of sunscreen and started applying it to his chest. He flinched at the sudden contact before realizing it was just you.
You felt him flinch and laughed, “Daydreaming, Burrow?”.
“Maybe,” he smiles while taking off his shades. He looks down and sees you applying sunscreen on him, “Oh, thanks,” he says while meeting your eyes.
You let out a playful sigh and say, “What would you do without me,”.
“For real,” he says. “I’d be walking around like a tomato,” he laughs.
After applying the rest of the sunscreen, you lay back against the net and Joe lifts one of his arms, motioning for you to curl up next to him. He rests his hand on the small of your back while you tangle your legs with his.
You lay there briefly, soaking up the perfect scene before breaking the silence. “Are you enjoying this? I know boats aren’t really your thing and I hope I didn’t force you into this,” you softly say.
“Of course, I’m enjoying this. I will admit, I was a little nervy when getting on but you’re here with me so I’m fine. Besides, If the boat breaks down at least we’d be stranded together,” he jokes.
“I guess that’s true. Better than being stranded with a bunch of randos too. I’m glad we could get a boat just for the two of us,” you reply.
“Yup. This isn’t as bad as I thought. I can see everything below us too so no risk of a random shark popping out,” he deadpans.
“Like that would actually happen,” you say while softly hitting his chest.
“You never know,” he says while shaking your shoulder in an attempt to scare you.
You spent a few minutes messing around with each other before the driver came out to tell you that you were heading back to the island. You both got up and sat on the bench, your back pressed into Joe’s chest and stared out into the open waters, taking in the view before it was time to go back. You were mindlessly sliding your hand along Joe’s leg while he had his arms around your waist, gently squeezing your soft skin. Everything about this moment was peaceful. Joe felt at ease for the first time in a long time and he had his favorite person to thank for it.
Once you got back to the house, you both took a nice shared shower before starting your dinner prep. Before arriving at the house yesterday, you had stopped at the local market to pick up some groceries.
“So, what are we making tonight,” Joe asked as he sat down on one of the barstools.
“I was thinking of shrimp-avocado tostadas and some of that wine we picked up yesterday?”
“Sounds delicious,” he said while rubbing his belly.
You let Joe fry the tortillas and make the avocado mixture while you cooked the shrimp and assembled the tostadas. While you were assembling the dish, Joe found a few candles in the cabinet and got an idea. He went outside to the backyard and set up the candles on one of the patio tables, setting the scene for a nice sunset dinner. He picked out a few flowers from the front of the house and put them in a vase to use as a centerpiece. He then poured the wine into 2 glasses, setting one on each side.
You had finished plating the tostadas and didn’t see Joe anywhere. “Joe? Where are you,” you yelled out.
“Out here! Bring the plates outside,” he yelled back.
You were a little confused but went along with it. You walked outside with your dinner and saw Joe setting the table and your heart melted.
“Joe, this is so romantic,” you cooed while putting the plates on the table.
He gave you a warm smile before pulling out one of the chairs for you to sit in. You sat down as he settled into the chair across from you. You both devoured the tostadas while making small talk about your plans for tomorrow. After you finished eating, Joe took the plates and set them inside; he suggested you both finish up your wine on the daybed since you would get a comfier view of the sky.
Later that night, per your suggestion, you and Joe were sitting in the bathtub surrounded by bubbles and a few candles. You felt so relaxed even though you’d only been here for 2 days, and it was all because of Joe.
“I’m glad we finally get to have ‘us’ time,” Joe says while rubbing your thigh under the water. “I missed just being able to sit with you and do nothing. This past month felt so repetitive, I feel like we barely saw each other,”
“Me too. We needed this,” you said as you pressed yourself into his chest a little more. Your back was to his chest and both your legs were tangled under the water. This was your favorite position; the warmth radiating off of his body felt like a big hug.
“Thank you for doing this by the way,” you add.
“Doing what?” He questioned.
“This trip. I needed it more than I thought I did. Getting away from home and the change of environment was much needed. I think if I stayed in Ohio for another day I might have spontaneously exploded,” you joked, causing him to let out a soft chuckle.
“Anytime,” he replied while kissing the nape of your neck.
“Do you feel better?” You asked. “I hope you were able to get your mind off of things. Your stuff was a lot heavier than mine,”
He lets out a content sigh and says, “Actually, yeah I do feel better. I think I just needed to get out of the chaos and get out of my head. This trip has helped me decompress and realize that not everything has to be so stuffy all the time,” Joe says.
“Exactly,” you chirp as you lean your head back to place a kiss on his neck.
“I can’t do anything about what people are saying, they’ll always talk. But what I can do is work hard to get back to where I’m supposed to be. And I won’t be able to get there if I’m constantly pressuring myself,” he says. “Letting loose and having fun is a part of that journey. I need that balance,” he adds.
“And this is a great start,” you say while smiling up at Joe
“Yes it is,” Joe says while pressing another kiss to your forehead.
You both had spent the rest of the night talking about the rest of your exciting activities planned for the final 2 days of the trip. You even talked about a few fun things you could do around Cincinnati when you get back home so that you could keep the work-life balance that you both so desperately needed.
“This impromptu vacation might have been the best idea you’ve had so far,” you tell Joe as you both are about to fall asleep.
“We should get away more often,” Joe grins.
--The End--
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Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘
Hello, my dear!!
Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘
Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).
I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.
Word Count: 2,200
Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.
Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.
You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.
You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.
“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.
For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.
So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.
Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”
“Hey…it’s me.”
Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.
It’s been a year.
“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.
You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.
“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.
“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”
“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.
You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.
“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.
“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”
And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.
After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.
You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.
Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly.
As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.
But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.
The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.
You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.
You can’t help it though.
You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.
Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)
Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.
You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.
“Hey, easy on my Baby.”
You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.
Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.
You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.
His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.
“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”
Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.
“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”
You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.
And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.
In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.
It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.
Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.
“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.
“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”
Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.
“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.
When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.
“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.
“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”
Dean turns to him with a frown.
“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.
Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”
Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.
He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.
Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.
“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.
Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”
He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.
You draw him into you and it begins.
Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.
Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.
The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.
You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.
“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.
“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.
But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.
“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.
When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.
He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.
It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.
“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.
Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.
“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”
He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.
His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.
You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.
He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.
You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.
"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.
After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.
And you begin again.
AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲
I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."
So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉
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Girl let me just say your fics are superb and thanks for the quirkless child one I requested with Bakugou! I promise I’ll leave you be for a bit in a second, but… post final war; everyone who has came out alive clearly is suffering from injuries, health issues, and trauma (both physical trauma and mental trauma) no? So how about a Bakugou x Reader with a reader who was essentially Bubbly, Firery and Energetic, to after the war who is exhausted, is often having nightmares over Bakugou cause well he nearly died, sleep deprived and basically depressed because I can guarantee nobody should be sane after a war, especially not children like our lovely highschoolers. Please make it angst to comfort, because seeing how Bakugou also has developed I’m sure as sad as he would be he would also be understanding and try to be comforting (despite his awkwardness). I’d appreciate if you could get this done to be as close as possible (and maybe just a little long than the one I requested last time- no pressure) BUT if anything you find in my request may be too triggering or something feel free to make it less triggering and change it, I just ask if you can keep the same vibe and theme with the reader who changed drastically after the wars and is getting comforted by Bakugou, Angst to comfort (duh), thank you so much, and I hope I’m not troubling you too much! — An anon who enjoys suffering, angst, and comfort ((SAC) Anon); (get it? Suffering, Angst, Comfort, SAC, wait that has a good ring to it, damn I have a new alias, I’ll shut up now)
I'm Okay, As Long as He's Here (Request)
Katsuki Bakugou x Reader
Details/Warnings: reader has a panic attack and nightmares!! pls be weary of this. angst to fluff, well, my attempt at angst lol
Word Count: 1k
thank you for your request and the support :D it means a lot to me 🩷 btw don't ever feel like you're bothering me or like you need to leave me alone! i like talking to everyone :) also this is a good little plot, but im not the best at writing angst but this is helping me improve i think, so please tell me how i did! i really hope you like it SAC anon hahah
Before the war, you were a different person. Looking at you now, no one would ever guess you were once a bubbly, out going person. But Katsuki knew you were, and sometimes, he missed the old you.
It was hard to watch you wake up crying in the middle of the night from your horrible nightmares of the war. Some being about his near death experience, and others being about him dying in other ways.
Some nights, you didn't sleep at all, and it was really showing.
"Hey, keep your head up. I don't want you to fall asleep." Katsuki said. It was already months after the war, so you were all back at school, but you were one of the few students that was struggling the most.
He definitely has his struggles too, but he knew he had to be there for you, because yours were much worse.
You opened your eyes wider, trying your best to stay awake. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep last night."
"You havin' nightmares again?"
You nodded, he sighed.
"Come sleep in my dorm tonight. You sleep better with me and you know it."
You agreed and continued trying your best to stay awake for the rest of the day. Occasionally, Katsuki would have to wake you up or remind you to stay awake. The lack of sleep made it hard to focus, especially in Hero Training. Thankfully, Mr. Aizawa and the rest of the teachers were understanding of the students who were struggling.
Once school was over it felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You knew you had homework to do, but right now you'd rather sleep. Or at least attempt to. Since you were going to be with Katsuki tonight, you were probably only going to have one nightmare. Plus, he'd be there to comfort you.
Following your boyfriend to his dorm room, you immediately changed into some of your clothes that he had there for you, and then laid down on his bed.
For a while, you just silently watched him as he sat at his desk and did his homework, something you should also be doing.
"What're you starin' at?"
You smiled, but not as brightly as before, "I'm just admiring you."
He huffed, "Good, I'm awesome."
Rolling your eyes, you said, "And there he is."
He laughed and continued doing his homework. You just continued watching him, because it was something that comforted you. It was a reminder that he was okay and alive.
Knowing he was safe right in front of you, you fell asleep.
...
You didn't know what time it was, but it must've been late since the room you were in was dark.
You clutched your chest as you sat up in bed and breathed heavily, feeling tears prick your eyes.
Of course, you had another nightmare again. This one in particular was about Katsuki, and he was in the arms of Shigaraki. You saw the villain use his Decay quirk on him, and your boyfriend began to crumble away but you were paralyzed in your dream. There was nothing you could do.
The nightmare felt so real and so scary, like they usually do. You felt so helpless and scared. The evil that emitted from Shigaraki and All For One was something you'd always remember.
You subconsciously began to rock yourself back and forth and made self soothing noises as you continued to have a panic attack. They never got easier, or less scary as time went on. It always felt like you were going to die.
Your panic must've woke Katsuki up, because you suddenly heard his voice calling out to you.
"Hey, hey! Breathe baby, you gotta breathe." He said.
You shook your head, "I-I can't! It hurts. I'm scared, I'm gonna die!"
He carefully grabbed your hands and held them in his. He took one of them and brought it to his chest near his heart so you could feel it beat.
"What is my heart doing right now?" He asked. This was a method he used to ground you during these situations, especially because he knew how you felt about him and his safety.
You looked at his chest, "Beating. Your heart is beating."
"Right. Now what do you feel here?" He asked, now placing a hand on the blanket that was on top of you guys.
"The blanket."
"What does it feel like?"
"It's soft and fluffy."
As he continued distracting you from your panic, you eventually calmed down. You were still crying a bit, but he held you in his arms as you let it out.
"He killed you Katsuki. I was so scared, and I couldn't do anything!" You cried into his chest.
He rubbed your back, "You know that shit isn't real, no matter how real it feels. I'm right here living and breathing. I'm safe, okay?"
You nodded and sniffed, "Okay." You placed a hand on his chest over his heart and felt it beat, the steady rhythm of it comforting you.
Katsuki grabbed that hand and kissed the palm of it, "Love you. I'll be here all night, 'kay?"
"I love you too. Thank you."
"It's no problem."
The next morning, you felt more rested than usual. It must've been because you only had one nightmare, which was an improvement.
You noticed you woke up before your boyfriend, so you just let him sleep a little longer while you got on with your morning routine. You had a lot of your own things in his room, including an extra toothbrush which you were thankful for.
When he eventually woke up, he walked over to you and hugged you tightly.
"You feelin' okay?" He asked.
You nodded as best as you could in his tight grip, "Mhm."
"Be honest."
"I am! I feel a lot better than last night." You insisted as you pulled away slightly, still keeping your arms around him.
He hummed and kissed the top of your head, "Mkay. Wanna sleep with me again tonight?"
"Yeah, I'll bring more clothes later."
He smiled, "'Kay. Let's go to class." He said and threw an arm over your shoulder, making you smile up at him.
Yeah, you knew things would be okay as long as he was around.
authors note
i hope you liked it! i'm sorry it was kinda short, i've been in a little writing stump but im trying to get out of it!
love ya 🩷
tags for bakugou fics: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot
#@angels-fantasy#fanfiction#fanfic#anime#writers on tumblr#bakugou katsuki#my hero academia#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#angst with a happy ending#light angst#mha fluff#bakugou x you
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Ruined
Vampire!Silco x Fem!Reader
Arcane Halloweek: Day 4 - Monster AU
A/N: I have been so excitedly sitting on this one shot for days now and I’m so happy to finally share with y’all. Also…I just Just of made up my own vampire rules so just ignore that lol. Hope you all enjoy!
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: angst | slight pining | boss/employee relationship | blood | mentions of knives and cuts | biting | vampire feeding | blood drinking | silco being a teasing bastard as usual | fluff | suggestive themes towards the end.
not beta read - apologies for any and all grammatical/spelling errors.
You should have known this was a stupid idea.
You should have known your mistake and consequent solution would come back to bite you in the ass. Just like every other time you try to go out of your way to appease everyone. Yet, here you are, suffering the consequences because some fucking assholes decided to jump you and the caravan on your way back to the Last Drop.
Sevika, Ran and the other goon with you had made quick work of most of them, their superhuman speed making them efficient in their jobs. However, a few of the thieves managed to get away with almost half of the supply.
The blood supply that keeps Silco from having to roam the lanes in search of food.
You can’t help but kick yourself, as you remember the damning words you uttered to Sevika in the aftermath when she asked what you were going to do. What you were going to tell the boss.
I’ll take care of it.
You might be one of the few humans in Silco’s employ, but you’re good at you’re job and you’re loyal - two things that lead to the right hand woman taking you at your word. Plus, it’s not like you lied.
You are taking care of it.
You’re just trying to take care of it with Silco being none the wiser. As far as he knows the pickup went off without a hitch, his blood supply being unaffected. If only due to some late night visits to Singed for blood draws to replace the missing product.
It felt like a great idea at the time - a simple, easy way to ensure the boss has what he needs without any needed stress. Except as the days wear on, everything starts to catch up with you.
Reports seem to pile up, your focus shifted as eyes droop with each written line. Thirum having to shake you awake at the bar when you drifted off mid conversation, brows furrowed in confusion. Your head pounds almost every morning, eyes foggy as they try to focus on the world around you. And on top of all of that, you’re fucking exhausted almost constantly. Arms and legs move slower, you can never seem to get fully warm.
And if Silco’s sidelong glances or frustrated sighs when he has to repeat himself for the hundredth time, say anything…He’s starting to notice that something is off.
A faint call of your name pulls you from your thoughts, bringing you back to the bustling bar of the Last Drop as a large hand settles on your shoulder. You turn and come face to face with Sevika, who’s looking at you with that all too familiar frustrated scowl.
“Didn’t you hear me the first dozen times I called your name?” she asks, casting a glance at your barely touched drink.
You shake your head, gesturing around you lazily, fatigue already setting in. “It’s loud.” you offer lamely, smirking when she rolls her eyes.
“Boss wants to see you.”
You sigh, “I already gave him my reports-”
Sevika cuts you off, practically hauling you off the barstool. “Now. And he didn’t seem keen on waiting.”
The tone of her voice is sobering, pushing your fatigue to the side as you look towards the stairs. You don’t offer Sevika any response other than a wary glance as you make your way to Silco’s office.
The stairs creak beneath your feet as you make the journey until you are outside the familiar door. Raising a hand to knock, your knuckles don’t even meet the surface before the familiar drawl of Silco’s voice stops you.
“Come in.”
Entering without hesitation, the door closes behind you as you make your way into the room, stopping just behind the chairs in front of his ornate desk. His chair is facing away from you, the smoke curling delicately over the top the only indication he’s sitting in it.
You clear your throat softly. “You…wanted to see me, sir?”
The chair turns to face you smoothly, teal and orange gaze settling on you as he takes a deep drag from the cigar at his lips before snuffing it out in an ashtray on his desk. His eyes never leave yours as he exhales slowly, the smoke enveloping you in a distinctive spicy aroma.
He must see the way your nose scrunches at the smell, never being one for cigars or the way they smell, a detail he’s picked up on in your years of service.
“A distinct smell, is it not?” His voice is like silk as it leaves his lips.
Brows furrowed at the random line of questioning, you nod slowly.
Taking a deep breath, he picks up the cigar once more, twirling it between long fingers as he studies it. “A distinct taste too,” he continues, “each cigar tastes different than the last. Some have a certain headiness about them while others are more delicate - sweeter, even.”
You shake your head, heart thumping nervously in your chest as you lose any idea of why you were called up here. “Boss, I don’t understand-”
“Blood is the same in that sense,” he says, cutting you off as he pulls open the top drawer in his desk, procuring something before placing it on the desktop. “Everyone’s blood tastes different. Not a single one is alike. Which is why-” he taps the object on the desk twice, “I know this shipment of blood is different from the rest.”
Your eyes fall to the desk and you feel your stomach drop through the floor. It’s a blood bag, just like the same ones that typically come in the shipments. But the only difference is the slight difference in the labels. You tried your best to replicate the labels on the typical bags, but you couldn’t perfect them.
This is one of the fillers you slipped in. It’s your blood that’s been emptied from that bag, and you can only hope he hasn’t connected the dots.
“If there’s an issue with the product I can talk to the supplier and see if they’ve made any changes,” you say, voice coming out weaker than you anticipated.
Silco regard’s you for a moment, before he slowly gets to his feet, eyes never leaving yours as he rounds the desk, that oh-so-familiar saunter sending a chill down your spine.
“Were there issues with the shipment?” He asks plainly, getting closer to you with each calculated step. “Because there are just a few too many coincidences for me to dismiss.”
He’s in front of you now, a mere foot away as he looks down at you, orange iris blazing as he starts a slow circle around you.
“The shipment was delayed, then the product differs vastly from those in the past, and at the same time as all of these discrepancies are occurring, one of my best employees starts to decline in health and their duties…”
You can’t find it in yourself to move as he stalks behind your back, breath fanning over your ear until he pauses just over your left shoulder.
The one thing that you could never seem to get used to with vampire’s, despite spending most of your time with them, was their lack of warmth. You almost expect to feel heat seeping into your back through your thin shirt, but all you feel is bone shilling coolness as he leans forward, lips brushing against your shoulder as he speaks.
“I have a theory,” he whispers, lips trialing ever so slowly upwards to rest just over your jugular, “and I'd like a chance to prove it.”
The faint scratch of unnaturally sharp canines against the delicate skin of your neck, makes your voice waver as you speak. “W-whatever you need.”
He chuckles darkly, and you feel ashamed of the excitement that shoots through you.
“Be careful what you so willingly offer.”
Before you can blink, a strong hand wraps around your wrist, spinning you until you are pressed up against the edge of the desk, trapped between Silco and the hardwood behind you. But that isn’t what sucks the break from your lungs.
No - it’s the glint of steel in the fading light of his office that has your breath leaving you in anxious pants.
This is it. You think, eyes instinctively clenching shut. He’s going to kill me for lying to him, for trying to cover up my mistake, for breaking his trust-
A sharp gasp leaves you as a stinging pain erupts across your fingertip. Eyes fly open only to see Silco tossing his knife onto the desk behind you as his dual colored gaze falls to the hand held between you.
Your hand. With one finger extended and a delicate pearl of blood bubbling to the surface. It feels as if you aren’t even breathing as he takes the digit into his mouth, tongue laving at the small wound. Contrary to what you imagined, his mouth is warm and tongue slick as it moves to collect every scrap of blood from your finger.
After what feels like an eternity but is probably just a mere moment, he pulls back licking his bottom lip thoughtfully before fixing his gaze back on you. He fixes you with that wicked smirk, the one that always makes your knees weak.
“It seems I was right,” he says simply. “I had a feeling something happened with the shipment, and in an effort to correct the accident, you filled the gaps with your own…supply.”
You go to speak, but Silco cuts you off just as you take a breath, leaning down ever closer to you, your noses brushing gently as he speaks. “I could taste the difference immediately. The regular supplier most likely supplements the blood with nutrients and other things and it makes it taste…bland, medicinal…” he trails down lower, nosing at your jaw, “lackluster.”
“But yours…” His breath makes your skin prickle and you can’t stop the shiver as he dips lower, lips brushing the spot just below your ear. “Your’s is different. Brighter, more vibrant, sweeter…” his words melt over your skin like warm honey, and you can’t find it in you to care when your hands come up and grip his arms for purchase as he continues.
“I had an idea of what you were doing right from the beginning, and as I kept drinking, kept tasting you, well…I couldn’t help but wonder what it tastes like directly from the source.”
As if to emphasize his point, he runs his tongue over the delicate skin above your jugular, and the words leave your lips before you can stop yourself.
“You can. I’d…I’d let you.”
The confession is a broken, desperate thing, but he must enjoy it if his bemused chuckle is anything to go by. You want nothing more than for him to do it, to take what you've been willingly giving him for days now. But to your confusion, and slight disappointment, he pulls away, eyes roaming your face.
“I know you would,” he reveals, lips ticking upward in that smirk once more at your shocked expression. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. The way your heart speeds up in my presence, your stuttered breaths, dilated pupils…”
He pulls even further away then, reaching up to pull your hands away from him with a gentle grip, a drastic contrast to the delirious way he’s teasing you.
“As much as I desire to accept your offer…you’re weak,” he deapans, letting your arms fall to your sides once more. “This plan of yours has left you barely able to function, let alone let me feed from you.”
He sidesteps you gracefully, rounding the desk as you turn to follow his movements until he is back in the same position he was earlier. Sat in his chair with all the power in the world as he pulls a new cigar from inside his desk, snips the end off and lights it with calculated precision.
His eyes fall from you down to the scattered papers on his desk as he takes a deep inhale from the cigar before letting it out once more.
“Take the next few days to yourself. I expect you to be at full capacity before the next shipment.”
His words are a clear dismissal, and you have to stop yourself from physically reeling from the whiplash the last several moments have given you. But you don’t stay to ask questions, instead taking it for what it is.
The door to Silco’s office clicks shut behind you as you exit into the hallway, and your brain can only seem to focus on one thing.
What the fuck do you do now?
───── 𖥸 ─────
It’s been weeks since the shipment incident, and just about the same amount of time since your moment with Silco in his office, and his words haven’t stopped ringing in your head.
As much as I desire to accept your offer…
Sure the offer had been made in the moment but…you meant it. Years spent pining after your vampire boss had left you thinking about the idea more than once, and…
He didn’t outright refuse you. He just…deferred it to a later date.
At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself as you’ve tried to find a way to bring it up again in a casual way.
Initially you weren’t ever going to speak about it again - in fact, once you returned to work you had planned to pretend that the whole fiasco never happened. The new shipment came in without a hitch so things went back to normal.
…almost…
You have your energy back and you’re back to your old self, no longer missing meetings or dozing off at the bar. But Silco…something is different since you’ve come back from your mandatory recovery leave.
Your meetings with him to go over reports feel more…intimate. Before, you typically stood a few feet from the desk, rattling off numbers and important details while he looked at the papers. But now, it’s vastly different.
Now he invites you so sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk as you go over the reports. Oftentimes standing to pour you both a drink - another new addition - before taking his place in the empty seat beside you.
The first time it happened, it caught you off guard, stalling your speech as you looked over at the kingpin of the undercity who only lazily gestured at you to continue.
Once you gathered yourself again you had indeed continued, but you didn’t miss the way he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and leaving very little space between you as he read over the parchment in your hands.
Each time he’s so close you can smell the faint scent of his cologne and the spice of cigars on his breath when he mutters a question. And you swear a few times you even heard him take a deep breath just a little too close to be coincidental.
You also noticed that the blood supply is lasting him longer than usual, which means he’s either finding a supply elsewhere or just not using it.
Maybe he was so used to mine…he doesn’t like the taste of the other stuff now…
The thought is fleeting, and you try to shove it down before it takes root, but you can’t. It’s the only thing you can think about as you slowly ascend the stairs to Silco’s office, nerves alight with anxiety as you finally stand in front of the door.
What if he doesn’t want it? What if he laughs I’m your face and calls you out for the foolish child you feel like? What if-
“Quit lingering at the door like a wraith. Either come in or get back to work.”
The all too familiar voice meets your ears through the thick wood for the door, and you can’t stop the warmth that floods your cheeks.
The door is unlocked so you walk in easily, letting it click shut behind you as you step further into the room. Your eyes fall immediately to the man who’s been plaguing your thoughts.
He stands in front of the large window behind his desk, the light casting his office in a green hue and making him nothing but a silhouette against the backdrop.
Instinctively you shove your hands in the pockets of your jacket, trying to hide the way they shake as your nerves get the better of you.
Finally, Silco turns to face you, his orange eye bright and glowing against the darkness of his silhouette. It makes you shiver for an entirely other reason and that alone seems to give you the little courage you need to approach the desk.
His features make themselves out as you come closer, the light not distorting them as much, and you’re able to see the way he raises a brow just as he lowers a cigar from his lips. He makes a point to blow the smoke away from you, and you silently appreciate the small gesture, licking your lips as you try to find the words you want to say.
However, Silco beats you to it, voice smooth as he speaks.
“If you have something to say…say it.” He says bluntly, eyes locked onto you.
So he knows. Or…at least has an idea.
Pulling your hands from your pockets, you clasp them in front of you, trying to appear more confident than you feel.
“I just noticed that the new supply might not be up to your…standards. And I just - wanted to let you know that my…my offer is still on the table.”
Your last words come out in a whisper, confidence slipping away from you the longer you hold Silco’s unrelenting gaze.
The suggestion sounds pathetic when you say it out loud, and you’re ready to take it all back to tuck tail and run when a chuckle meets your ears.
It’s the same as the ones he gave you last time, dark, humorless - but not cruel or demeaning. Just like he’s privy to a joke you don’t understand, an irony you can’t fully comprehend.
And as he stalks from behind the desk, snuffing out his cigar on the way, you find that your eyes never leave him. Not even when he comes to stand almost toe to toe with you, that damn cologne tickling your nose and making your eyes flutter as he leans in closer.
“Do you have any idea what you’re offering me?” He asks, voice genuine, as if he truly wants you to rethink your precious gift.
But you have thought about it. Thought about the possibilities, what could go wrong, and what could go so mind-nubmingly right.
You just hope this will fall under the latter.
You give him a small but firm nod, voice not wavering as you speak. “I do. And…It’s yours. I-If you want it.”
The breath of air he releases is one of relief, you can practically feel the way he sags into your space, nosing your jaw as hands ghost up your sides.
“Oh, my dear…” Breath fans over your ear sending shivers down your spine. “You have no idea how much I’ve craved it.”
You don’t know what you were expecting. Part of you was expecting him to take you right there, teeth plunging into your neck unceremoniously to drink directly from the source like he wanted. Part of you maybe expected him to be a touch softer, walking you through it before sharp canines pierce delicate skin.
But you never expected a kiss.
Never expected cool lips pressed against yours with a ferocity only intimate lovers possess. Never expected the feeling of his tongue running across the seam of your lips or granting him access as easily as you draw breath.
He hums lowly into you, and you can feel the vibrations from within his chest as he wraps strong arms around you to pull you impossibly closer against him. Fingers press greedily into your sides as he guides you backwards and you don’t even have the wherewithal to wonder where he’s taking you.
Only when he turns you both with incredible grace and sinks down onto the plush velvet of the sofa does it register, and by then you’re already in his lap and too far gone to care.
He breaks the kiss as soon as you slide onto his legs, thighs straddling his own as lips trail from your mouth to your cheek, then lower.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” He husks, voice like broken gravel as he nips at the edge of your jaw, those impossibly sharp fangs scratching teasingly.
“You’ve ruined me. You gave me a taste and it’s made everything else taste like the toxins swimming in the river Pilt.” He’s at your neck now, teasing, nipping, tongue laving out to soothe the little bites. “Bitter, acidic, bland-“ he takes a deep inhale as he nuzzles into you, and you can feel the way his lashes flutter against your skin. “Nothing like this, like the divine ichor that seems to run through your veins-“
“Silco, please.”
Those two words. The utterance of his name and the way you beg so sweetly are his undoing. They are enough to snap the thin little thread of control he still had and allows him to finally take what he’s so desperately wanted for longer than he can remember.
The pain is both as intense and yet, lesser than you had thought it to be. It’s a piercing, searing heat that flows from your neck to your fingertips where they grasp for purchase in his fine silk vest. Yet the ecstasy that courses through you moments after is enough to overwhelm all else.
It’s…strange. But it feels good. With each languid pull, each pass of his tongue over your skin, the way his arms tighten around you, crushing you to him as he feasts - it all makes the heat in your belly burn brighter.
He groans against you as he drinks, pressing harder against you as if that will somehow make the blood come forth faster, nose digging into your shoulder as one hand comes up to tangle in your hair as you nuzzle into his own neck.
It feels like an eternity when he practically rips himself from you with a grunt of effort. Pressing one last kiss the delicate skin which stops the gentle flow of crimson. You were just beginning to feel the telltale signs of fatigue, sleep tugging gently at your eyes when cool hands come up to cradle your face.
You’re pulled from your place on his shoulder gently, and brought up only so caring eyes can look you over. The teal iris, the one so many seem to overlook, is eclipsed by the black of his pupil, hunger still present in his gaze.
There’s still the faintest hint of red on his lips, one corner darker than the rest - and you can’t help but reach up to wipe at it. It’s the first time you’ve truly touched him throughout all this, the first time he’s ever let you touch him. So, you try to commit it to memory. The way the scars marring his upper lip feel beneath your thumb as you wipe gently at the blood left there.
Without thought, his tongue peaks out to wipe up the excess, brushing against the pad of your finger before retreating once more as he reaches up to take your hand in his own.
You’re momentarily struck by the gentleness of his actions, the way his brow seems to draw together in concern. Which is why you can’t fathom why the words spill from your lips.
“So, was it better directly from the source?” You ask, voice soft and bringing a rare half smile to the man’s lips.
He nods. “As I said,” he begins, leaning in so lips ghost over your own, and you can almost taste the metallic tang on his breath.
“You’ve ruined me.”
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Written in the Sand | Tyson Jost
it’s finally here! I started this fic in September, thinking it would be a cute couple thousand words, and then finally finished it four months and almost 30,000 words later.
huge thank you to @antoineroussel who held my hand through a lot of this and also did the hard work of beta reading and editing all of this.
recommended listening: Written in the Sand by Old Dominion (where else would I get title and inspo from?), Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band, and The Dance by Garth Brooks.
length: 29.8k words (lol)
this fic has now been broken into chapters for easier reading
Are we written in the stars, baby,
or are we written in the sand?
Tyson never meant to catch feelings. Really. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. Then it happened again, and again, and somewhere along the line it turned into regular hooking up. And, well, anyone would tell you that Tyson wore his heart on his sleeve. It wasn’t long before he was falling fast and hard.
Tyson looked across the couch at where she was dozing, wearing one of his T-shirts. His birthday was in a few days. He’d already resolved to ask her out for real before then. This stupid not-quite-friends-with-benefits shit was getting old. It needed to end one way or another, for Tyson’s sanity—and his heart. If he was going to get his heart broken anyway, why prolong the inevitable?
But he was getting ahead of himself.
November
It’s early in the season, too early to be celebrating wins the way they are. But they blew out the Canucks and the Sharks in consecutive games and don’t have another one for four days, so Gabe dragged them all out to a bar. There’s something special about this team, Tyson can feel it, and so can the rest of the guys.
Which is how Tyson finds himself a couple beers and a shot or two deep on a Saturday night in November, with JT squished against his side in the booth. The team is extra loud to account for the fact that they’re in a crowded bar; EJ is across the table chirping Andre about something or other. Tyson settles in and takes another drink of his beer.
JT elbows him in the ribs. Tyson elbows him back harder on principle.
“No, idiot, there’s a cute girl over there,” JT says.
“You have a girlfriend,” Tyson says, not following. He tries to figure out which girl JT is talking about, but there’s a lot of girls in the bar.
“You don’t,” JT points out, and, oh.
“I’m not really looking for anything,” Tyson says, because it’s true. Especially not some hookup with a girl in a bar. He doesn’t really roll that way. He really wants to focus on having a good season here. He still doesn’t know which girl JT is talking about.
Gabe, the nosy asshole, leans over Cale to give his two cents. “Josty, I think you need another beer.”
Tyson glares at his unfortunately almost-empty beer bottle. He glances over at the bar again. This time, a girl catches his eye and gives him a small smile over her friend’s shoulder. She is kind of cute, Tyson supposes. Tyson heaves a sigh and elbows JT again to force him out of the booth. A small cheer goes up. He flips them off without turning around.
It’s even more crowded at the bar, but Tyson manages to squeeze in near the girl and lean against the bar while he waits for a bartender. The person on his left leaves with their drink, and then he’s next to the girl. He wishes he knew her name. She smiles at him again.
He’s about to lean in and introduce himself when a bartender comes over and asks for his order. She’s smirking at him when he turns back.
“All the beers in the world, and you’re drinking Coors?” she asks. She has to lean in close to be heard, and Tyson doesn’t mind it. He makes an outraged noise, which only makes her grin grow. “I’m Madison,” she says.
“Listen, Madison,” Tyson starts, but he doesn’t actually have a great argument. He’s just not very picky when it comes to beers. He closes his mouth. Madison laughs at him and takes a sip of her drink. “And what’re you drinking, huh?” Something with a lime wedge on it. Red, maybe. The dim lighting makes it extra hard to see colors.
“All beer is gross, first of all,” she says. “Second of all, it’s a vodka cran.”
“Can I buy you another?” Tyson asks. Her glass is less vodka cran and more ice at this point.
On Madison’s other side, her friend groans. Tyson probably deserves that. Madison rolls her eyes at him. He deserves that, too.
“Real smooth,” she says. Tyson winks at her. “I don’t even know your name,” she points out. Oh, yeah.
“I’m Tyson,” he says. He sticks out a hand for handshake, and Madison takes it, though she raises an eyebrow and laughs at him again as she does it.
“Okay, Tyson,” Madison says, “you can buy me a drink.” Tyson thinks she sounds amused.
Tyson fist pumps and turns back to catch the attention of one of the bartenders again.
Drinks procured, Tyson loses track of time as he chats with Madison, as much as they can over the din and constant jostling. By the time they’re both finished, Madison’s pressed close to Tyson’s side. She’s looking up at him expectantly.
Fuck it, Tyson thinks. He leans close and settles a hand on Madison’s hip. “Can I take you home?” he asks.
Madison slides a hand around the back of his neck. Her nails scratch the curls at the nape of his neck, and Tyson suppresses a shiver in a warm, crowded bar.
“God, I thought you were never going to ask,” she says.
Some of the guys are still posted up at tables in the corner. He’d forgotten about them. He hears a few jeers over the din of the crowd, and he flips them off with the hand that’s not clutching one of Madison’s.
“Friends of yours?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at the cluster of rowdy hockey players, letting Tyson drag her towards the door.
“Unfortunately,” Tyson says, once they’re safely out the door, and he can talk at a normal volume again. “Can I kiss you?” he blurts, pausing in trying to fish his car keys out of his pocket.
Madison laughs again, but it’s not mean. Tyson likes it, the way she already seems comfortable teasing him. She doesn’t answer, instead just slides her hand around Tyson’s neck again and pulls him down to kiss her. Tyson’s dizzy with the feeling of her lips warm against his, there in the middle of the sidewalk. He makes himself pull away.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
Madison lets Tyson keep a hand on her thigh as he drives, edging up under the hem of her shorts. He’s dying to be able to kiss her again. She lets him as soon as she’s out of the car and pressed up against the passenger door. Then again, in the elevator until they’re both breathless, and even more once they’re safely inside Tyson’s apartment. Against the front door, tripping over themselves down the hallway, and, finally, finally, twisted up in Tyson’s sheets.
Madison stirs next to Tyson, knocking him out of his bask in the afterglow. Her hair, once nicely curled, is a mess. Tyson’s probably doesn’t look much better, actually.
“I should go,” she whispers.
Tyson wants to argue. To tell her she can stay. But that’s too much, too strange. He rolls over to kiss her again, instead. She pushes him away with a soft giggle.
“Not helping,” she says. She sits up. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Yeah, course,” Tyson says, nodding too hard.
Madison slips out of bed and collects her clothes. If Tyson watches her ass as she goes, who’s to blame him?
He’s dozing when she re-emerges, fully dressed and a little less disheveled.
“Can I get your phone number?” Tyson asks without thinking. That’s not what this was supposed to be. He told JT he wasn’t looking for anything just a few hours ago. He just knows he wants to see Madison again.
She hesitates. Tyson understands.
“I’d really like to see you again,” Tyson says, maybe too honest for a hookup, but it’s late. He can’t be blamed for the things he says after 1 AM. “And it’s late, I’d sleep better if I know you got home okay.”
Tyson can see the moment she gives in. Madison sighs and steps closer to the bed, but there’s something soft in her eyes when she looks at Tyson.
“Where’s your phone?” she asks. Tyson reaches for his bedside table out of habit. His phone never made it there in their haste to get into bed. He turns back to face Madison, sheepish.
“I don’t know, actually.” Probably still in the back pocket of his jeans, but he can’t remember if he stopped to take it out and set it somewhere, either.
Madison sighs at him again and shakes her head. Tyson watches as she scoops his jeans off the floor and digs through them before coming up with his phone. He probably should have done that himself, but Madison tosses it at him before he can push the sheets away from where they’re pooling at his waist. Tyson isn’t expecting it and fumbles the phone. He has to dig it back out before he can unlock it and toss it back to Madison.
She catches it with ease, and Tyson sticks his tongue out at her. Show-off. She ignores him, thumb swiping idly through his apps until she finds his contacts. She types for a moment, oddly serious. Her own phone vibrates in her other hand. She throws the phone back at Tyson. He doesn’t drop it this time.
He unlocks his phone to see that Madison’s made herself a contact—just her first name and a smiley face typed out— and texted herself—a little blue bubble that just says, tyson.
She checks her phone again. “I really should go,” she says softly. “My ride’s here,” she adds.
“Wait,” Tyson says. He reaches out a hand, wraps his fingers around her wrist when she steps closer and tugs her down so he can kiss her one last time. “‘Kay, now you can go,” he whispers.
Madison cups his cheek and gives him one quick peck, then she’s out the door.
Tyson’s not quite asleep when his phone vibrates next to him, and she slaps at it, squinting at it in the dark. A text from Madison reads, home x. Tyson falls asleep smiling.
He almost expects that to be the end of it. He knows he said he wanted to see Madison again, but he’s not sure either of them are going to follow up on it. The Avs’ schedule gets busy—away, then back home, then gone again.
But it happens again. Tyson’s high on another win when he dials Madison’s phone number. It rings long enough that Tyson thinks she’s not going to answer.
“Hello?” Madison says, startling Tyson.
“Oh,” he says. He didn’t think he’d get this far.
“Tyson?”
“Are you busy tonight?” he blurts. It’s a Saturday night, he’s expecting her to say that she’s going out with friends or something. Tyson’s just getting home from the game himself.
He’s surprised when she says, “Not really.”
“Oh,” Tyson says again. He pulls his tie off over his head and tosses it aside.
“Tyson? This is a booty call, isn’t it?”
“Uh. Maybe?” Tyson says. “Is it working?” Tyson surveys his apartment. He’d cleaned before leaving for Dallas, and he’s barely been home long enough to make a mess again. Though, his unpacked suitcase is exploding in the corner of his room where he dumped it when they got in late the night before.
“God, you’re so bad at flirting,” Madison says. Unfortunately, she’s endeared by it. “I can be there in like thirty minutes, text me your address.”
Tyson fist pumps when he hangs up the call. He frantically texts Madison before going to change into sweats. He’s fidgeting restlessly on his couch when Madison calls him again thirty-six minutes later.
“Can you let me up?” she asks.
“Oh, shit, yeah,” he says. He doesn’t bother with shoes, just swipes his keys from his kitchen island and heads downstairs.
Madison’s waiting awkwardly in his lobby when Tyson steps off the elevator. She spots him and grins when he waves at her. She wants to hug him, for some reason, when he approaches her, but that’s not what they are, so she settles for taking his hand and twining their fingers together when he reaches out for her.
Tyson doesn’t pin her against the elevator wall to kiss her after the doors close behind them, but Madison can tell he wants to. She squeezes his hand, and Tyson pulls her into his side.
“Little excited, huh?” Madison teases, looking at Tyson’s feet.
He wiggles his socked toes and grins at Madison.
“Well, duh,” he says. The elevator doors open again. Tyson all but drags Madison towards his apartment. He’s kissing her before the door is shut all the way. They stumble over to Tyson’s couch, and Tyson’s pulling Madison into his lap before he’s even settled. She lets him kiss her for a few minutes before she pulls away.
“Is this going to become a thing every time you guys win?” she gasps.
“You know who I am?” Tyson doesn’t ask, resting his forehead on Madison’s shoulder to catch his breath. “You watch hockey?” he asks instead. He’s not sure it’s a better question than the one he didn’t ask.
Madison twists her fingers in the hair at the base of Tyson’s neck. “Not avidly. I really didn’t know who you were the first time, but my friends and I were out the other night, and I saw you on TV.” She tugs a little on his hair, and Tyson tilts his head back to look at her. She’s watching his face closely, waiting for his reaction.
Tyson’s relieved, in a weird way, that she didn’t know who he was when they hooked up the first time. He’s just not sure how he feels now that she’s back in his lap, and evidently knows he plays for the Avalanche. Madison’s unwavering, looking steadily back at Tyson.
“What, so you’re just fucking me because I’m a hockey player now?” he jokes, or tries to joke. He thinks it falls flat.
Madison laughs. “No, you idiot, I’m fucking you because you’re kinda cute.” She rolls her eyes, and Tyson pouts a little. “I told you, I didn’t know who you were the first time. I’m not chasing anything, Tys. Besides, if I were chasing hockey players, I’m sure there are single Avs players who score more goals,” she teases.
“Hey, I scored a goal tonight!” Tyson protests.
“I know, baby,” she says, kissing him quickly.
“Did you look up my stats?” Tyson asks, distracted.
“I like you, okay?” Madison says, ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be here for any other reason.”
Tyson has to kiss her again. They don’t end up making it to the bedroom.
“Do you have to go?” Tyson whines, watching Madison sit up and search for her clothes. Tyson thinks her T-shirt ended up behind his couch.
Madison pauses. Tyson’s curls are a disaster, and Madison kind of wants to mess them up more. “And what exactly would we do if I stayed?” she asks, eyebrows raised. She threads her fingers into Tyson’s hair, tugs once, because she can.
Tyson blushes a little. “I dunno, watch a movie?” Madison makes a face. Tyson’s phone got buried in the couch cushions, and he fishes it out to look at the time. “Okay, I guess it is kinda late.” Tyson’s stomach growls. “Do you want to order pizza?” he asks instead.
Madison finds her shirt and checks the time on her own phone. “I really should get home,” she says, apologetic. “I hate getting Ubers late at night.”
“You can spend the night,” Tyson says without thinking. At the look on Madison’s face, he says instead, ”Or, I could drive you home. Whatever.”
“‘Whatever,’” Madison scoffs, shaking her head. But she grins at Tyson and pulls her shirt over her head. Tyson briefly mourns the loss of her bare chest. “I guess I could go for pizza,” she says.
“Wait, for real?” Tyson asks. He realizes he probably sounds too eager.
“Don’t make me change my mind,” Madison warns, but her smile is playful.
She’s still standing next to the couch, and Tyson has to pull her back into his lap. She giggles as she settles across Tyson’s thighs. He kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, before she turns her head and captures his lips with her own. They kiss for long minutes, Tyson doesn’t know, time slowed down and unimportant. That is, until Tyson remembers he’s hungry and has to pull away.
“Pizza?” he asks, somewhat nonsensically, panting a little.
Madison kisses him again. Tyson tightens his grip on her hips, but pushes her away. “As long as you order pepperoni.” She slides off Tyson’s lap and slumps onto the couch next to Tyson.
Madison suddenly realizes that she’s tired, her eyes feeling heavy as she watches Tyson order pizza. She considers for a second, before carefully poking him in the ribs with her toes. Tyson doesn’t flinch. Madison stretches and settles with one of her feet across Tyson’s lap. He drops his hand to her ankle without looking down, thumb rubbing small circles across the bone absently. Madison closes her eyes and dozes.
She’s woken up again by Tyson gripping her foot and shaking it. She’s melted further into the couch cushions, bones heavy with exhaustion. Tyson smiles at her.
“Pizza’s here, babe,” he says softly.
Sure enough, there’s a pizza box resting on the coffee table. It smells enticing enough to rouse Madison the rest of the way. She reaches a hand out, intending for Tyson to give her a piece of pizza, but he wraps his fingers around hers and pulls her to sit up. She leans into Tyson’s side. He laughs quietly and drapes an arm across her shoulders. Madison could probably fall back asleep like this, Tyson warm and solid next to her. Tyson hands her a slice of pizza, and Madison’s actually too hungry to resist.
Tyson turns on some show on Netflix while they eat. Neither of them are paying much attention, but it fills in the silence nicely. It’s cold and dark outside, the city of Denver sleepy, but inside Tyson’s apartment, it’s cozy and warm.
It’s dangerous waking up next to Madison the next morning. It’s something Tyson could get used to far too easily. Madison’s still asleep when he rolls over in the early morning light. She’s rolled over to face him in her sleep, face soft and hair a mess. Tyson’s not sure what time it is. He should maybe get up, but he’s not in any rush.
Madison blinks awake to find Tyson watching her. She rubs at her eyes and rolls onto her back.
“Whatchu lookin’ at?” she mumbles. She turns her head back to look at Tyson.
Tyson grins lazily back at her. “You, duh.”
Madison facewashes him. Tyson grabs her wrist and wrenches her hand away, cackling. “You’re the worst,” she says over his laughter.
Tyson scoots closer and sticks a foot in between Madison’s legs. No ulterior motive, just wanting to be close. Okay, maybe a teeny bit of ulterior motive: Tyson’s toes are cold. He’d wheedled Madison into wearing a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt before they’d fallen asleep. She looks like she belongs in Tyson’s bed.
Madison watches Tyson closely as he settles back in. She tries to read the expression on his face, the small smile on his lips. She’s not sure what any of it means.
“So what next?” she asks softly. Two hook-ups and a sleepover does not a relationship make.
Tyson knows what she’s asking. He runs through their upcoming schedule in his head. They’re about to leave for a week. That’s about as far as he gets. They can worry about all that later. All he knows that he wants, no, he needs to see Madison again.
What he says now is, “Breakfast?”
December
Madison doesn’t hear much from Tyson for a while after that. It’s not like she expected to, really. She knows the Avalanche went on another long road trip, and it’s not like they need to be texting each other constantly.
Madison finds herself checking the Avalanche box scores after each game. Tyson gets two goals while they’re gone. Not that she’s counting, or anything.
Tyson means to call. He really does. Or even text some. But in the air somewhere over Canada, he realizes he’s never actually talked much with Madison. He doesn’t know anything about her, unless you count what she’s like in bed. He’s never been good at small talk, or the talking phase. Which, when he thinks about it, is probably why he’s still single.
It’s not until he’s staring down three and a half weeks of nothing but practices that Tyson picks up his phone again.
Madison answers faster than he’d expected. “You’re not bored already, are you?” she asks. “It’s only been two days since you had a game.”
It’s only been one day since their last game, actually. Tyson whines into the phone. “Yes, I’m bored, okay?” Madison laughs at him. Tyson makes a face, even though she can’t see it. “We never get this much time off, it’s weird,” he goes on. ��What am I supposed to do?”
“You’re a smart boy, Tyson,” Madison teases. “Went to college and everything, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
That’s not to say that Tyson doesn’t have ideas, and he thinks Madison knows what he’s angling for because she’s not a fool. She’s really going to make him work for this one.
“I mean, I guess I could watch some movies or start a new TV show,” Tyson hedges.
“Watch The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogies,” Madison says absently. “Could get you through a good couple of days.”
Tyson takes his opening. “You could always come over and watch them with me,” he says.
Madison groans, as if they both didn’t see where this conversation was going. “You’re terrible,” she tells him.
“No, really, we can just hang out,” Tyson says. And if hanging out leads to other things, well.
“Don’t you have teammates you can hang out with or something?” Madison asks, skeptical.
“I see them literally every day”—Madison laughs again—“and I want to see you,” Tyson adds. “Really.”
Madison pauses on the other end of the line. “Fine,” she says finally. “Should I pack a bag?”
Tyson freezes. He hadn’t gotten that far in his scheming. Never considered Madison would even want to spend that much time with him this weekend. He’s quiet long enough that Madison says something.
“Tyson?” she says softly.
Tyson shakes himself, tries to get his brain back online. “I, uh, I mean. I guess? You can, if—if you want?” he stammers. It’s Friday afternoon. He still has some practices over the weekend, but the long break between games suddenly seems less daunting with the prospect of Madison staying over, staying in his bed.
“I’ll be over soon, okay?” Madison says.
Tyson isn’t sure if he manages to say anything else before she ends the call. Fuck. He’s getting the sense for the first time that he’s in over his head. He isn’t so sure he minds, actually.
The weekend passes quickly once Madison’s there, though Tyson swears time slows down when he’s with her. They do actually end up watching The Lord of the Rings movies—which Madison had proudly produced from one of her bags, along with several packs of microwave popcorn, which had sent Tyson into a laughing fit— in between falling into bed (or the couch, more than once) and Tyson dragging himself out of the apartment to get to skate.
“We really should do The Hobbit first, since those come first chronologically, but other than the first one, they’re not as good,” Madison explains at one point, gesturing with a handful of popcorn. Tyson just nods. “And we could have probably had a proper marathon and watched all the movies, but that’s like twenty hours, and I figured you had other plans, anyway.” She looks sidelong at Tyson, one eyebrow raised.
“You’re kind of a nerd, you know that?” Tyson asks later, breathless from making out. He’s pressing Madison into the couch cushions, their legs tangled together underneath a blanket. He’s aiming for light, teasing, but he’s not sure he quite gets there.
Madison tugs on the hair at the nape of Tyson’s neck. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.” Madison’s smirking a little.
Tyson absolutely does like her anyway. It might make him like her more, actually.
Madison’s standing at the kitchen counter with the last of her coffee on Sunday morning when Tyson comes up and presses himself against her back, pinning her in place. He presses a kiss to the spot where Madison’s neck meets her shoulder. Madison tilts her head to the side some. With better access, Tyson drags a line of kisses down her neck and across the top of her shoulder.
Madison sets her coffee mug down on the counter with shaky hands before she drops it.
“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin.
From this angle, Tyson can see the hickey on Madison’s collarbone from the day before. He’s got one to match, somewhere. He wants to get his mouth on it again, make it darker, make sure it’s there for days.
Tyson feels it more than he hears it when Madison laughs. She reaches up and drapes an arm backwards over his shoulder, holding him in place as much as he’s pinning her.
“Sorry, bud, but some of us have to get back to the real world,” she says. She doesn’t make any effort to move.
Tyson bites her shoulder, gently, but pulls away. “Same time next week?” he asks next, only half a joke.
Madison turns around and looks at Tyson. “Tyson, next week is Christmas.”
“Fuck, is it?” Tyson tries to remember what day it is. His family is coming to town this year. He should probably put some effort into decorating his apartment, then.
Madison just shakes her head at him. Tyson wonders if his mom and Kacey will be able to look at him and know what’s going on in his heart.
Tyson’s apartment feels empty without Madison in it when he gets back from practice later that afternoon. She’d filled in all the quiet spaces Tyson didn’t realize it had—a spare throw blanket strewn across the couch, her makeup bag overflowing on his bathroom counter, an extra set of dirty dishes in the sink.
He misses her. More than he should, probably. Huh.
This was never supposed to be anything. Just a hook-up from the bar. Now Madison’s spending weekends at his place, and Tyson wants to see her all the time. He should’ve seen it coming, maybe. He’d never been good at flings.
He thinks about calling Madison, but that seems like too much. He’s been told he can be too much, sometimes. He puts his phone back down, flops face down onto his couch for a while, instead.
Tyson spends the next few days doubling down on getting ready for Christmas. He had, in fact, forgotten that it was coming up so soon, and he still needed to get presents for his grandpa and sister. He digs out his meager box of Christmas decorations and sets them up around his apartment. It’s not very much, but it does go a long way towards making the apartment feel a bit more like home.
He holds off on texting Madison until Wednesday. He shouldn’t have; his family’s flying in later this evening. They’ll be in town all week, and Tyson might actually go insane if he can’t see Madison, get his hands on her again until after the new year.
If Tyson ends up picking up his family with sex hair, well. They probably didn’t notice. He’d shoved a ball cap on, anyway, though Kacey still raised her eyebrows at him in the rearview as she slid into the backseat next to their mom. He’d flip her off if he could, but his grandpa is right there.
Tyson makes it through the holiday without an interrogation from his mom and sister, but he knows it’s coming. The blanket Madison had left behind is still laying across the couch, and Kacey’s been curled up under it more often than not. Madison texts Tyson on Christmas morning, a simple merry Christmas! with a heart emoji that has Tyson grinning stupidly at his phone. Kacey clears her throat loudly, on the floor next to Tyson. He feels himself blushing as he fumbles to lock his phone and drop it face down next to him. His mom and sister share a look over his head.
Madison texts again a few days after Christmas, asking if Tyson wants to grab lunch and hangout. Tyson does, obviously, but he has to figure out how to dodge his family for a few hours, first.
“I’m gonna go workout, I think,” Tyson announces. He needs to find his shoes, a water bottle. He is restless, too many days off in a row.
Kacey looks up from her computer. “Oh, can I come? I’m supposed to be working out over break, too,” she says.
“Uh,” Tyson says, trying to stall. He should’ve thought this through better. Kacey raises an eyebrow at him. “I was actually hoping for some time alone, y’know?” Kacey’s other eyebrow raises.
“Are you saying you’re tired of us?” his mom asks, teasing.
Tyson’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Madison again. He hasn’t had a chance to respond to her yet. He hates lying to his mom, but he still says, “Yes? No?” Tyson’s never been one to need space. “I just—”
“It’s okay, Tys,” his mom says gently. “Have a good workout, sweetheart.”
Tyson doesn’t linger, grabbing his coat and shoving his feet into the first pair of shoes he sees on his way out the front door. He texts Madison that he’s on his way in the elevator. He does pick up lunch for both of them, too, on his way over to Madison’s place. He’s thoughtful like that.
It takes just about all of Tyson’s self-control to actually sit next to Madison on her couch and eat first.
“How’d you ditch your mom and sister?” Madison asks eventually, eyes still on the TV, playing some random Hallmark Christmas movie.
Tyson swallows. “Told them I was working out,” he admits.
Madison turns to smirk at him. “Working out, huh?” she asks, laughter in her voice.
Tyson nudges her knee with his foot. “It’s not entirely a lie,” he points out. His lunch is practically finished anyway, so he sets it aside and slides closer to Madison. “I think they’re on to me, though.” He never could hide anything from the people he loves.
Madison swings her feet into Tyson’s lap. She’s still eating, and Tyson’s about fifteen seconds away from taking her lunch from her and just kissing her. His leg bounces—his restless energy has only gotten worse since landing on Madison’s couch—until Madison digs her heel into his thigh, forcing him to stop.
She’s looking at him carefully. “Would that be such a bad thing?” she asks. “People knowing about us?”
Tyson considers. It’s not like there’s anything to keep a secret, really. He realizes that no one even knows that he and Madison had hooked up more than just that night at the bar. He hadn’t realized how close he’d been keeping them to his chest.
Madison’s still waiting for an answer. Tyson squeezes her ankle where it’s still draped across his lap. “I guess not, actually,” he says.
Madison grins at him and, finally, finally, sets aside the remnants of her lunch. Tyson slides his hands up Madison’s legs, underneath her thighs, and drags her into his lap, finally, finally, getting his mouth on hers.
Kacey and his mom are waiting for Tyson when he sheepishly slips in his front door an hour later. Kacey’s smirking, leaned up against the counter with her arms crossed. Tyson could kill her. He tugs the collar of his hoodie up, hoping it covers the hickey Madison left on his collarbone.
“Good workout, Tys?” Kacey asks. Tyson flips her off. Even their mom smacks her arm in reprimand.
“Great, actually,” Tyson says, allowing himself a moment of smugness in spite of his embarrassment. He hopes he’s not blushing. Kacey laughs.
“If you’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend, Tyson, you know you could always bring her around,” his mom says gently. Tyson winces. He really hates lying to his mom. And he definitely could not just bring Madison around.
“Yeah,” Kacey chimes in, “I want to meet whoever’s got you sneaking around like an idiot.”
“She’s not—it’s not like that,” Tyson rushes to say. “We’re taking it slow, I guess.” He’s definitely blushing now, his face warm under the matching gazes of his mom and sister. He forces himself to shrug, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. “We’re just…friends,” he finishes lamely.
Kacey and his mom pin Tyson with matching pitying, yet disbelieving looks. Tyson hunches his shoulders, nervous underneath their gazes. He thinks of Madison telling him that it’s okay if people know about them. Thinks about having to tell his mom and baby sister that he’s just fucking around with a girl he thinks he could fall in love with, given the chance. He decides against it, for now.
Tyson shrugs again. “I mean it,” he says. “It’s not really anything right now. I don’t know.”
He escapes to his bedroom for a shower and to bury his head under a pillow for a while, until he feels like he can face his family again.
The days seem to pass more slowly after that. Tyson works out—for real, thank you very much— and watches way too many cooking shows with Kacey, curled up under a mountain of blankets on the couch. Tyson doesn’t know the last time he got to spend this much time with his family during hockey season. It’s nice, even as he starts getting restless again, anxious to be back on the ice with his teammates.
There’s a team New Year’s Eve party at Gabe’s. It’s pretty chill, especially as far as team gatherings go, but Tyson maybe has a little too much to drink. He’s surrounded by happy teammates with their significant others, and he’s maybe feeling a little alone. He cracks open another beer.
It’s almost midnight when Tyson sinks onto a couch next to JT and slips out his phone. No notifications. He doesn’t know what he expected. Madison had posted on her story earlier in the night that she was celebrating with friends, too. Tyson stares at his phone for a moment.
miss you, he carefully types out. It takes him longer than it should to get it right, drunk as he is, squinting at his phone and concentrating really hard on hitting the correct keys.
Madison responds quickly, way faster than Tyson had expected her to. The typing bubble appears almost immediately. Tyson waits.
miss you too tys, it says. Then, please drink some water.
“Who the fuck is Josty texting?” EJ yells from across the room. Tyson realizes that he’s been smiling stupidly down at his phone. He makes to lock it and put it back away, but he’s not fast enough. JT grabs Tyson’s wrist and wrenches it around so he can see his screen.
“Who’s Madison?” JT asks, quieter than EJ. He lets Tyson lock his phone, finally.
“She’s—” Tyson pauses. He doesn’t want to say that she’s no one, because that’s not really true. He doesn’t have any other word for her, either.
JT’s been watching Tyson’s face carefully. He knows better than anyone that Tyson isn’t good at hiding his emotions, and something must be showing on Tyson’s face now. JT’s eyebrows raise.
“Is that the girl you brought home from the bar like a month ago?” JT asks. Tyson hesitates, pulling his hand free from JT’s grasp. Tyson’s hesitation is enough. “Oh my God, are you still fucking her?”
Tyson winces. It sounds crass when JT says it like that. “We’ve hooked up a few more times,” he admits. JT doesn’t need to know about the number of times she’s slept over, too.
JT laughs at him, shaking his head. “‘Not really looking for anything,’ huh?” he teases, echoing Tyson’s own words from that night in the bar. Was it really only a month ago? Feels like Madison’s been in Tyson’s life way longer than that, with how quickly she’s taken over Tyson’s thoughts.
“I wasn’t!” Tyson protests. He shoves JT a little for good measure. He’s so drunk he doesn’t think it has the intended effect. JT just sways back into Tyson, leaning more of his weight on Tyson’s side.
It’s almost midnight. Around them, teammates are moving around, finding someone to kiss. Someone’s opened champagne, someone else is passing full flutes around. Tyson takes one when it passes in front of him. JT digs his elbow into Tyson’s ribs one last time before getting up to find Sydney.
Tyson’s left on the couch, alone. He pulls his phone back out as people begin counting down around him. Madison’s text comes through just as everyone starts cheering and the clock strikes midnight. Happy new year Tyson! 🖤
Tyson closes his eyes and drains his glass of champagne.
January
Tyson usually dreads January. It’s a long, cold, and dark month. The grind of the season feels like it’s at its…grindiest. The game days and travel days start to run into each other and turn into one exhausting, never-ending blur. Someone’s always getting sick, or injured,
He’s perfectly happy to throw himself back into hockey when the new year finally rolls around after so many weeks without it, but he hates how quiet his apartment is without Kacey hanging around, being annoying. He leaves his Christmas decorations up, anything to make his apartment feel lived-in.
Tyson lasts until the team gets back from Chicago on the fifth before he calls Madison again. She doesn’t answer. Tyson stares at his phone after it goes through to voicemail, bewildered. That is, until Madison texts him back and reminds him that she has a “normal job with normal hours.” Right.
Madison calls Tyson back on her way home from work. His groggy, mumbled “‘ello?” makes Madison smile when he answers, voice tinny over her car’s speakers.
“Did I wake you?” she teases.
Tyson scoffs, but says, “...yeah. Sorry for calling you earlier,” he adds. “I’d just gotten home and wasn’t thinking.”
“You can’t just call at 10:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, Tyson,” she admonishes.
“I know, I’m sorry, I was just—” missing you. Tyson dismisses that thought. Too earnest. “I was just bored,” he finishes. Not much better, actually.
Madison’s quiet for a while, focused on driving. She realizes she should figure out where she’s actually headed. “Were you calling for any particular reason earlier?” she asks. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”
“I could never forget you,” Tyson says quickly. “I just wanted to see you,” he admits after another moment.
Madison turns on her blinker at a red light. She should be turning left, towards her apartment. She turns right, towards Tyson’s place. “Did you want me to come over,” she asks, wanting to hear Tyson say it.
“I mean, obviously, yeah. I can make us dinner.”
Madison laughs. “Oh, sure, you’re gonna make me some toaster waffles, huh?” She had seen the Instagram stories. “You really know how to woo a girl, Tys.”
She can practically feel Tyson’s playful outrage on the other end of the phone. He sputters for a minute before saying, “Okay, I can order us dinner.”
Madison’s almost to Tyson’s apartment building. She hates that she already knows how to get there so easily. “Are you going to get your ass out of bed and meet me downstairs?” There’s the sound of something hitting the floor, like Tyson actually rolled out of bed.
“I’ll be right there!” Tyson says, before hanging up. The radio cuts back in, music playing softly to fill in the abrupt silence of the call ending. Madison parks and turns her car off, sitting in silence for a minute. She wonders just what the hell she’s doing, what she’s getting herself into.
Tyson sprawls onto his couch and pulls Madison into his lap almost immediately after they’re both through the door. Madison rolls her eyes, but she goes willingly. Tyson’s perfectly content to just make out for a while, all sense of urgency gone as soon as he gets his hands on Madison. He’s not sure how long they’re there before he realizes something and pulls away.
“Have you ever been to an Avs game?” he asks.
“What?” Madison lost her shirt at some point, and Tyson’s thumb has been fiddling with one of her bra straps for the last several moments. She’s admittedly a little distracted. She processes what Tyson said. “Tyson, are you seriously thinking about hockey right now?” She tries to roll off his lap, but he digs his hands into her thighs and refuses to let her move.
“I’m always thinking about hockey, a little bit,” he defends. Madison rolls her eyes at him again. What Tyson had really been thinking about was introducing Madison to JT, then he’d remembered that she said she didn’t watch much hockey, and somehow that’s what had come out of his mouth. Madison still looks a little bit like she wants to smack him. “I told my best friend about you,” is what he ends up saying next. “He’s actually the one who pointed you out to me at the bar that night, and he wants to meet you for real.”
JT had actually said that, in between chirps about Tyson’s hooking up habits. Some of the other guys had picked it up, too, but Tyson wasn’t ready to subject Madison to them yet. Except maybe, like, Cale. And maybe after a game at the arena wasn’t the best place to introduce Madison to his friends, but Tyson could get tickets for Madison and a friend, ask Mel to introduce herself or something, and then meet Madison after with JT.
Tyson realizes Madison hasn’t answered him. She’s still in his lap, but she’s tense. Tyson squeezes her thighs again.
“You don’t have to, obviously,” he says softly. “I dunno, I just thought you might want to meet the guys.”
Madison relaxes a little. “You really want that?” she asks.
Tyson can’t help but grin at her. He kisses her again, slowly. “I do.”
Later, when they’re sitting at Tyson’s little table eating dinner—that Tyson did actually cook, thank you very much—Madison knocks her ankle into Tyson’s. Tyson swallows his mouthful of food and traps her foot in between both of his. Madison had gotten re-dressed in one of Tyson’s sweatshirts, and Tyson’s doing his best to feel normal about it.
“So, did you have a day in mind for me to come to a game, or had you not thought that far ahead?” Madison asks.
Tyson tries to run through their upcoming schedule in his head. “Uh?” They’re home for a lot of January. “Next Friday, maybe? The…14th?” He can’t remember who they’re playing, but that’s not really important. Tyson squints over at the printout of their schedule he keeps on his fridge. “We wouldn’t be able to hang around because we fly out that night, I think.”
Madison looks faintly overwhelmed suddenly. It might be for the best that the guys will only be able to say hi briefly, actually. “Sure? Whatever you want, Tyson.”
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Tyson reminds her. He feels a bit as if he’s thrown her off the deep end, even though she’s the one who pushed Tyson to tell JT in the first place.
Madison shakes her head. “No, it’s okay, I just didn’t really expect it.”
Tyson pulls a face. “Maybe I’m tired of keeping you a secret.” He doesn’t know what he was trying so hard to protect, now.
Madison stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Tyson stares back. Finally, Madison drops her fork with a clatter and leans across the table to kiss Tyson. The fierceness of the kiss surprises him, Madison’s lips hard against his, her hand sliding around the back of his neck. Tyson cups her cheek and tries to soften the kiss, but Madison pulls away just as quickly as she’d kissed him.
Tyson blinks at her, bemused. He’s not sure what just happened. It feels significant somehow, something unspoken changing between them. Tyson turns back to his dinner.
Madison sees Tyson a few more times over the next week and a half before the game. Tyson acts the same, but Madison feels like she’s on edge, counting down the hours until Friday. Tyson doesn’t seem to notice.
“What the hell am I supposed to wear to a hockey game?” Madison complains over the phone to her older sister, Emma, who she’d asked to come with her on Friday. Emma just laughs at her. Madison’s seen what WAGs wear to games—cute outfits with leather pants and heels. Madison doesn’t own that type of shit, and she’s not really a WAG, besides. She doesn’t own a jersey, either, and it would probably be weird to wear a jersey that’s not Tyson’s anyway. Madison’s pixie pants from Old Navy and sensible work shoes aren’t going to cut it.
“What were you wearing when you met Tyson?” Emma asks, as if she doesn’t know they met in a bar.
Madison snorts. “Nothing that’s appropriate for a hockey game.” Madison regards the handful of sweaters she’s pulled from her closet. One of them is close enough to Avalanche burgundy, maybe. Somewhere in her dirty laundry is one of Tyson’s sweatshirts. Madison’s not bold enough to wear it.
Game day is overwhelming, to say the least. Tyson had gotten them good seats, but Madison’s not used to being around so many people, and it’s noisy all around her. It’s easier to follow the pace of the game in person than on TV, she learns, and her eyes follow Tyson whenever he’s on the ice.
Tyson scores a goal late in the first period, and Madison’s probably the one who cheers the loudest for him.
Madison waits outside the arena for Tyson after the game. Her sister’s waiting in the car, telling Madison it was too cold to stand around. She watches some of the other players make their way past her and onto a waiting bus. It’s cold, and she hates Tyson briefly. It’s only another few minutes until Tyson appears, closely followed by someone. They’re arguing, but Tyson breaks off as soon as he sees Madison waiting for him.
Tyson forgets himself for a moment. He runs over to Madison and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her once. Madison laughs at him. He ignores JT snickering behind him in favor of leaning down and kissing Madison quickly.
Madison’s blushing when he pulls away, but it might just be from the cold.
“Nice goal tonight, babe,” Madison tells him. Tyson just shrugs.
Behind them, JT clears his throat. Tyson kind of forgot about that part. He drapes an arm around JT’s shoulders and drags him closer. “This asshole is JT,” he tells Madison. “He’s one of my best friends.” To JT, he says, “This is Madison, be nice.”
JT scoffs. “I’m always nice.” He grins at Madison. “I’m also the reason Tyson went up to you at the bar, so I guess you could thank me for whatever’s going on here.” Tyson smacks him.
“You can get on the bus now, actually,” Tyson says. JT’s laughing again as Tyson tries to elbow him out of the way. Madison’s smiling, too, though, amused by their antics.
JT does leave, then, and Madison and Tyson are alone. Or, as alone as you can be with half of Tyson’s teammates watching them through the bus windows. Tyson steps closer to Madison.
“Thanks for tonight,” she says. Tyson barely did anything, but he’s not going to say that now. Tyson should really get on the bus, but he can’t tear himself away. Madison’s hand finds his, tangling their fingers together and squeezing once before letting go again. “Text me when you get to the hotel, yeah?”
Tyson has to kiss her again. “I will, I promise.” He really needs to go. One last kiss, pressed to Madison’s cheek this time, then Tyson forces himself to step away.
Madison’s gone when he turns around as he steps on the bus. Tyson shakes himself and goes to find JT, flopping into the seat left open for him.
“You’re in deep, bud,” JT says. Tyson glares at him.
“God, I know.”
February
Tyson should be planning a vacation somewhere warm. That’s what most of his teammates are doing, with the All-Star break coming up in just a few days, everyone ready to escape winter in Colorado. What Tyson’s doing instead is texting Madison, trying to convince her to spend the week with him.
He doesn’t understand why she’s being so resistant to the idea. She’s spent nights and weekends with him before. She’s spent more time around his friends, even sticking around the other night when JT and Cale crashed their evening.
Fine I’ll just stay over at yours then, Tyson finally texts as a last resort.
Madison leaves him on read for, like, two hours. He spends most of that time trying to figure out what he could have said to make her pull away so suddenly.
Tyson’s this close to actually driving over to Madison’s to finish this conversation-slash-argument in person when she finally texts him back.
I don’t think that’s a good idea either, Madison has texted. Tyson stares at it. Tries to type a response, deletes it.
Before he can think much more about it, Tyson’s grabbing his car keys. He ends up driving aimlessly around Denver for a while before he heads towards Madison’s apartment. He’s worried he’s too upset to go straight over, that he’ll just start saying things he doesn’t mean out of frustration.
He still knocks on Madison’s door a little too hard, maybe. She looks confused when she answers the door. Tyson realizes he probably should have given her a heads up.
He’d planned what he wanted to say in the car, but what he blurts out instead is, “What, are you sleeping with someone else on the side?” Tyson could play it off as a joke any other time, but right now it comes out too accusing, too hurt.
Madison’s face does something complicated before she grabs him by the wrist and hauls him inside.
“What the fuck, no,” she says. “Tyson, what the fuck?” she repeats.
He crosses his arms. “I don’t get why you don’t want to spend the week off with me.” She’s already spent days at a time in his apartment. This week shouldn’t be any different.
Madison’s always hated cuffing season, is the thing. Maybe it’s just because she usually finds herself lonely through the winter months. She’s not stupid, this thing with Tyson has an expiration date; if she’s being honest with herself; they’ve been pushing it ever since they extended all of this past a one night stand. With every day that passes, Madison feels herself falling just a little more for Tyson, and she feels the impending end creeping closer. She needs to put some space between them before she gets her heart broken.
She just doesn’t know that Tyson’s busy falling, too.
Madison doesn’t know how to put all of that into words without blowing up her spot, though. She settles for saying, “I just need some space, I think.” It’s not exactly a lie.
Tyson’s face falls, and Madison immediately wishes she could take the words back.
Tyson’s quiet for a moment before he quietly says, “I didn’t do anything, did I?”
“No, God, of course not,” Madison rushes to assure him. She tries to collect her thoughts. “It’s just that, with Valentine’s Day coming up, and winter ending, I don’t know, I think I need to figure out what I want.”
Tyson forgot about Valentine’s Day. He doesn’t even know their schedule that far out. He supposes they have been hurtling towards something they’ve yet to define lately. But, “Hey, we’ve got a good thing going right now, don’t we?” Madison nods hesitantly. “Who said anything about changing that?” Tyson’s heart has other ideas, but he can worry about that later.
Madison takes a deep breath. “I guess,” she says, and Tyson grins at her.
“I’ll drop the All-Star break thing if you want. I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He doesn’t spend a lot of time with people other than teammates. It’s nice to change things up.
“Like you wouldn’t be calling me all the time to hook up, anyway,” Madison teases. Tyson can’t argue with that.
He ends up sticking around for a while, sprawled across Madison’s couch with her tucked against his chest between his legs. Madison turns on The Hobbit, even though Tyson doesn’t think they quite managed to make it through The Return of the King the last time they had a Tolkien marathon.
When he leaves later, pulling Madison in for a chaste kiss in the doorway, he realizes it’s the longest they’ve spent together without it ending in a hook-up. It’s kind of nice.
Tyson does back off some after that. All-Star break is already upon them, anyway. He can handle winging it solo for a few days. Probably.
Actually, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t properly cleaned his apartment since their last long break back in December. The Avs have been home a lot in January, too, and his fridge is looking pretty bare these days.
He considers texting Madison and asking if she wants to tag along for his groceries, but he thinks that might be crossing the line of “too domestic.” He throws himself into cleaning and does his best to not think about texting her, instead.
It’s Madison who breaks the silence first. She lasts two days. She thought time and distance was what she needed, but that was before she realized how much she missed listening to Tyson chattering at her in between falling into bed.
She texts, i’m coming over, before she can think better of it. She makes the now-familiar drive to Tyson’s apartment on autopilot. Tyson’s seen her text by the time she parks, and he readily buzzes her into the building. Madison doesn’t even have to knock when she gets to his door; Tyson jerks it open like he’s been waiting, beaming.
“Burky’s here,” he says, pulling Madison in for a kiss. Madison peers around Tyson. She hasn’t met Burky yet, but she vaguely recognizes the guy standing in the middle of Tyson’s living room as another teammate.
“Hi,” he says. Awkward. Madison likes him.
“This is Madison,” Tyson announces, somewhat needlessly. His brain shorts out a bit after that, unsure what he can call Madison. ‘Friend’? ‘Hookup’? Definitely not ‘girlfriend’.
“Tyson hasn’t stopped talking about you since you came to the game a few weeks ago,” Burky tells Madison, interrupting Tyson’s runaway train of thought.
“Hey,” Tyson whines. “You don’t need to tell her that part.”
Madison laughs. “Nah, it’s okay, JT’s already told me.”
Tyson’s busy trying to come up with a sufficient way to threaten JT whenever he sees him again as Burky slips out the front door, and suddenly he and Madison are alone.
Madison starts to apologize for showing up with little warning, but Tyson cuts her off, pushing her—as gently as he can—against the nearest wall and kissing her.
“Hi,” he breathes when Madison ducks her head to pull away. He kisses her again before he can admit how much he missed her.
“I missed you,” Madison says, which. Tyson can handle that.
“God, me too.” Before, he might have felt overexposed by telling her that, but, now, it’s just comforting to know she misses him the same way he misses her. “I was actually about to make dinner, if you’re hungry?”
He starts to head towards his kitchen, not waiting for Madison to follow. He hadn’t really planned much further than deciding to cook, but he can probably figure out enough to make for two people. Madison leans against the counter as Tyson opens his fridge and peers inside. He could make chicken, but that’s boring.
“I did just buy burger patties,” he says, sort of thinking out loud.
“Tys, make whatever you want,” Madison tells him, laughing a little. “I’ll eat it.”
Tyson twists around to grin at Madison. “Be careful, you haven’t actually seen me cook yet.”
He’s a passable cook, actually—his mom wouldn’t let him leave for North Dakota before he knew the basics, and he’s only learned more since then. He plucks the burger patties out of the fridge.
Tyson talks while he cooks. He’s not even sure what he’s chatting about after a while, but Madison listens intently to everything he says. She winds up sitting on the counter near him, and he keeps stepping away from the stove to steal kisses in between sentences. He roasts up some red potatoes, too, and digs his hamburger buns out of the freezer.
“They last longer,” he tells Madison, sticking two buns in his toaster. “Also, don’t tell Nate I’m eating white bread.”
Madison has not yet met Nathan MacKinnon, and she doesn’t think she’d be telling him what Tyson’s eating for dinner on a night off when she does meet him, either.
Tyson spends almost as much time dramatically plating the food as he did cooking it. Madison pours them both glasses of wine. He finally slides a plate in front of her but whips out his phone before she can take a bite.
Madison groans. “Tyson, oh my God.” She hides behind her wine glass while Tyson takes a picture of their plates.
Tyson reaches across the table to pull Madison’s hand away from her face. “Relax, I’m just sending it to JT.”
Madison scoffs, “Sure, just JT,” but she sets her wine back down.
Tyson tries to sneak another picture of her, but she catches him. The artificial shutter clicks just as she smiles sweetly at Tyson and flips him off.
“Delete that,” she whines.
“Absolutely not.”
They continue to chat over dinner. Tyson drips ketchup on his shirt, and Madison laughs so hard she chokes on her wine, which sets Tyson off, too. It’s several minutes before they can collect themselves again. Until Madison meets Tyson’s eyes across the table and bursts into laughter again.
“What’s so funny?” Tyson whines, still dabbing futilely at the stain on his shirt.
Madison wipes at her eyes, trying to catch her breath. “Nothing, nothing.” It really wasn’t that funny. “I think I’m just over-tired.” She doesn’t tell Tyson that she’s been worrying about him, about their relationship, so much that she hasn’t been able to sleep well.
Tyson frowns at her, anyway, like he knows what she’s not saying. He glances at the time.
“Do you want to take a nap or something? It’s still early enough.”
Madison knows that if she falls asleep in Tyson’s bed now, she will not be getting out of it until morning at least, and, “I didn’t pack anything.”
She doesn’t know why she was half-expecting Tyson to shut the door in her face when she arrived. She definitely hadn’t been planning on staying the night.
Tyson frowns harder. “You can always wear something of mine. Unless…you don’t wanna stay?”
Madison pushes a piece of potato around her plate with her fork for a moment before answering.
“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to stay,” she says quietly.
“What?” Tyson’s so surprised he drops his fork. He snatches it back up and points it accusingly at Madison. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course I want you to stay. I literally always want you to stay.”
Madison can feel herself blushing and she ducks her head so Tyson can’t see.
Tyson goes on. “Plus, it’s a Friday night, we can stay up late and watch a movie, then sleep in tomorrow. I’ll even make you breakfast!”
He’ll probably actually persuade Madison into going out for breakfast, but that’s an argument he’ll save until the morning. Tyson decides he’s done eating and pushes back from the table. He tries to clear Madison’s plate, but she glares at him and swipes her plate away. Tyson makes grabby hands for it.
“C’mon, I’m not making you clean up after yourself, you don’t have to.”
Madison shakes her head and holds her empty plate farther out of Tyson’s reach. “You cooked, I clean, baby.”
“That’s not—” Tyson’s so distracted that Madison snatches his plate and darts towards the kitchen. “Hey!”
He chases after Madison, who’s laughing again. Tyson loves the sound of Madison’s laugh, the way it fills his apartment. He waits until the plates have clattered into the sink to press up behind her. He kisses her shoulder, her neck, before burying his face in the crook of her neck. Madison shudders and leans back into Tyson.
“How about neither of us clean up, and we go watch a movie instead?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin.
Dishes can wait; Tyson needs Madison on top of him, like, five minutes ago. He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he loops an arm around her waist and drags her over to the couch. She grunts when he pulls her on top of him, but she’s pliant as he arranges both of them until they’re comfortable. He even pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over Madison’s back.
Madison snuggles in, the top of her head nestled perfectly under Tyson’s chin. He had intended for some making out, but now that they’re there, he’s fine with actually turning on a movie. He’s pretty sure Madison’s eyes are closed already, anyway, her breathing already starting to slow down and even out. Tyson scrolls for a while aimlessly before he settles on something stupid he’s probably seen before. He keeps the volume low. He dozes a little himself, absently rubbing Madison’s back underneath her shirt. She mumbles in her sleep and shifts closer.
It’s late by the time the movie ends, and Tyson rouses himself. They should both move to the bed, but he’s loath to wake Madison. She’s cute when she sleeps.
Tyson nudges Madison gently in the ribs. She stirs and blinks blearily up at Tyson.
“Hm?”
“Let’s get you to bed, baby,” Tyson whispers. He starts to move, and Madison makes a grumpy noise and snuggles back in. “C’mon, c’mon, it’s more comfy, I promise.”
He gets Madison up with quite a bit more poking and prodding. She’s unhappy with being woken up, and Tyson’s doing his best not to laugh at her. He nudges her towards the bathroom and gets a glare for his troubles, but she does dig out her toothbrush.
Tyson roots around for an old shirt for Madison to wear. He holds it out to her when she emerges from the bathroom, but Madison bypasses the shirt and kisses Tyson instead. He tries to keep it gentle, but Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson drops the shirt in favor of sliding his hands along Madison’s shoulders, her ribs, down her hips. They’re not very coordinated as they fall backwards onto Tyson’s bed. Their feet tangle as Tyson tries to push even closer, pinning Madison to the bed as they continue to kiss.
Madison breaks the kiss to yawn in Tyson’s face.
He huffs out a laugh, and Madison whines again. “No more, or you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”
He watches as Madison squirms around until her head is on her pillow. She’s already half-asleep again. Tyson leans over the foot of the bed and fishes around for the sleep shirt he dropped. He tosses it to Madison, and it lands on her face. She tears it away to glare at him.
Tyson’s even polite and doesn’t stare at Madison’s chest as she strips off the shirt she had been wearing and shimmies into his shirt.
He also wins the argument over breakfast the next morning, and triumphantly takes Madison to breakfast at Snooze. Madison’s grouchiness only lasts until a plate of French toast lands in front of her.
They’re out of town the day before Valentine’s Day. It’s just Dallas, and they’ll fly home after the game, but Tyson’s not actually sure where the line is between him and Madison and February 14th. Romantic dinner is absolutely out of the question. So are roses, probably. Tyson still wants to do something though, which is how he ends up on the website for a local flower shop while he’s supposed to be napping after skate. He scrolls for a few minutes before he remembers that he’s colorblind, and he should probably enlist some help.
JT and his judgmental eyebrows are at Tyson’s hotel room door seven minutes later. He shoulders his way past Tyson without a word, settles next to Tyson’s laptop on the bed.
“Flowers?” JT asks. “For your not-girlfriend?” He’s still being judgy, but Tyson knows he’s amused a little, too.
“Shut up, at least I’m not sending her roses,” Tyson says, trying to defend himself. He flops down on the bed next to JT.
JT’s already busy scrolling. ”You need help picking the right colors, don’t you,” he says, teasing.
“Maybe.” Tyson’s never really understood flowers—they all sort of look the same to him—but girls are supposed to like them. Tyson’s never claimed to understand girls, either.
JT clicks around a few times before he punches Tyson in the shoulder.
“Ow,” he complains, sitting up and peering over JT’s shoulder. “...What am I looking at?”
JT sighs. “I don’t know, some pink and purple flowers.”
Tyson squints closer at the photo of the arrangement JT picked. “Wait, is that a rose? I said no roses.”
“It’s pink, it’s fine.” JT tilts the screen away for a second. “You’re adding on a stuffed animal.”
“I am?” JT gives him a look. “I mean, sure.” JT turns the laptop back towards Tyson, and he dutifully fills in his credit card information. He has to hunt for Madison’s address in his phone, but then he’s pressing the confirmation button, and that’s it. “That’s it? That was easy.”
JT snorts and shuts Tyson’s laptop. “Sure, easy after you asked me for help.” He facewashes Tyson. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ll buy your coffee before the game,” Tyson offers, ignoring JT’s sarcasm. “Besides, you’re the one of us in a cute, long-term relationship.”
JT smirks at Tyson over his shoulder, heading for the door. “You could change that for yourself, you know.”
“Working on it!” Tyson yells as the door shuts behind JT.
Tyson mostly forgets about the flowers after that, with the game, and the flight home, and crashing into bed and sleeping for almost ten hours. He hopes Madison likes them, hopes he isn’t pushing it too far.
Madison isn’t expecting the knock she gets on her door the next morning. She’s even more surprised when she opens her door and finds a small vase of flowers waiting on her doormat. There’s a teddy bear propped up next to the flowers; she hugs it to her chest as she carries the flowers inside. She has to set the teddy back down with the flowers to take a picture to send to Tyson.
She sends, should I be worried about a secret admirer? Tyson, eternal dork that he is, sends back the smirking emoji and the emoji blowing a kiss. Madison adds a selfie of herself hugging the bear and says, come cuddle?
Tyson probably, maybe, goes a little over the speed limit on his way to Madison’s.
March
Fucking Calgary. Tyson’s face hurts. He gingerly sticks his tongue through the gap where his front teeth used to be, but moving hurts too much. He sits back in the passenger seat of JT’s car with a quiet groan. The training staff had been adamant that Tyson couldn’t drive himself home, and Tyson wasn’t really in any shape to put up a fight. JT looks at him sideways, something amused in the tilt of his eyebrows.
All this and they didn’t even fucking win.
“Want me to call your mom?” JT asks.
Tyson groans again. He really should call her. He knows she’s worried, and if he doesn’t tell her he’s fine—mostly— she’ll probably take the next flight into Denver to check on him herself. She’s pretty great like that.
He should probably text Madison, too.
What Tyson really wants to do is go home and pass out for about twelve hours. He’s already scheduled for emergency dental work in the morning, though, and then Tyson’s going to have to beg the training staff to let him play on the road trip they’re about to head on. He hasn’t even packed yet.
JT holds his hand out for Tyson’s phone. Tyson fishes it out of his hoodie pocket and slaps it into JT’s hand. JT waves it at him.
“Unlock it, dumbass,” JT says. Tyson could grumble about how JT definitely knows his passcode, but he just takes his phone back. “And dial your mom while you’re at it, I can’t do it while driving.” Tyson settles for a disgruntled huff and does as he’s told.
He only half-listens, eyes closed, as JT talks to his mom, repeated reassurances that he’s fine, and, no, she doesn’t need to come down, and, yes, JT will keep an eye on him.
They’re almost to Tyson’s apartment by the time JT hangs up. He doesn’t hand Tyson’s phone back. Tyson cracks open his eyes to squint at JT.
“Need me to call your little girlfriend, too?” he asks. The way he says it isn’t mean, but Tyson bristles anyway.
“Not my girlfriend,” he manages, swiping for his phone. Not yet, anyway, or maybe not ever. Tyson’s working on it. JT lets him take it, but Tyson doesn’t miss the raised eyebrow he gets before JT turns back to the road.
JT insists on walking Tyson to his front door, then following him inside. Tyson’s too tired to begrudge the fussing. Plus, he does feel like shit, and it’s kind of nice, even if he’ll never, ever tell JT that. JT hovers in the bedroom doorway as Tyson kicks off his slides and faceplants into his pillow.
“Ow,” he says, gingerly turning back over.
JT snorts at him. “Need anything?” The trainers gave Tyson painkillers after the game, and it’s not like he can brush his teeth—or what’s left of them, anyway. He settles for flipping off JT. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll lock the door on my way out.” Tyson probably owes him one after this.
He barely remembers to text Madison a thumbs up emoji before he falls asleep.
Tyson grimaces when he sees himself in the mirror the next morning. His jaw is swollen and bruised, and he can barely open his mouth. He’s not sure he wants to see the state of his teeth, anyway. A knock on his door drags him away from his mirror.
Madison knocks again, unsure if Tyson’s awake. She should’ve called, or texted, before she showed up. She shifts anxiously from foot to foot while she waits for Tyson to answer. It’s only another few seconds before the door swings open, and Tyson appears. He looks miserable as he leans against the door.
“You look like shit,” Madison says. She waits until he steps back before pushing past him and inside his apartment.
“Thanks,” Tyson mumbles, following Madison to the kitchen.
She hops up onto the counter and thrusts one of the smoothies in her hand at Tyson. “Breakfast,” she says.
Tyson takes it and takes a wary sip. It’s his favorite flavor, and he takes a bigger drink. He’s halfway through slurping his smoothie before he remembers to say anything else.
“I’ve, uh, got the dentist this morning, then I’ve gotta meet the team to fly to New York,” he tells Madison. He talks carefully around his swollen gums.
Madison shrugs. “Just wanted to check on you, bud,” she says. She sets her smoothie aside and holds her arms out to Tyson. He steps into her arms and lets her hold him. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in the crook of her neck. “Looked pretty rough out there last night.”
Tyson grunts. Madison pokes him in the ribs until he squirms away. He takes a petulant drink of his smoothie.
“Do you need any help with anything?” she asks.
Tyson still hasn’t packed. His dirty laundry has piled up. He should really clean his apartment.
Instead, he shakes his head, muttering, “You don’t have to.”
“That’s not what I asked, Tys,” she says, crossing her arms. She stares him down.
Tyson cracks. “I’ve just got a bunch of cleaning to do, is all.” It hurts to talk too much. He forces himself to shrug, tries to do the math on how much time he has before the dentist and before heading to the airport to get everything done.
Madison doesn’t seem concerned. “Okay, where do you want to start?”
“You don’t-” Tyson starts. You should just leave, he wants to say, but doesn’t.
“Shut up and drink your smoothie, Jost,” Madison tells him.
Tyson shuts up and drinks his smoothie.
He goes to start a load of laundry while Madison tackles his kitchen. He’d run the dishwasher the day before, but what hadn’t fit had piled up in the sink, and he had never exactly gotten around to emptying it. More dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Tyson stands in his bedroom for a moment, listening to the sounds of Madison putting things away in his cabinets.
He doesn’t know when she learned where everything goes.
They work around each other in silence for a while. Tyson stops a few times and watches the confidence and comfort with which Madison moves around his apartment. He likes it more than he should, probably.
He’s got clothes in the dryer when he realizes he should’ve left already. He’d gotten a lot of work done the night before, and he’s got more appointments for when they get back to Denver at the end of the week.
He looks around his half-cleaned apartment in despair. He’d managed to pack enough to get by, he thinks. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to borrow socks from JT on a road trip, anyway. Madison must see the look on his face, because she walks over to Tyson. He looks down at her as she places her hands on his hips.
“Go, I can handle the rest of this,” she says. They’d made good progress, but most of Tyson’s laundry—anything that hadn’t gotten immediately packed—still needs to be folded. “Just leave me the apartment key. I’ll finish up, and make sure everything’s locked up. Promise,” she tells him.
Tyson can’t ask her to do that, and he tells her as much. That’s like. Girlfriend shit. He doesn’t say that part.
What he ends up saying is, “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.”
Madison leans up on tiptoes to press a quick close-mouthed kiss to Tyson’s lips. “I know. But I want to help you, babe. Let me help you.”
Tyson sighs. This isn’t a fight he’s going to win. Madison watches him with something like satisfaction on her face as he finds his keys, carefully unhooks his apartment key and hands it over, but there’s something soft in her eyes, too. Tyson can’t bear to think too hard about what that look means, so he steps around Madison and goes to grab his bags.
Tyson gives her a quick kiss on his way past. He wants nothing more than to kiss her properly, like she deserves, but he doesn’t think his jaw could handle that. Madison grabs Tyson’s wrist before he can get far. He turns to look at her again, a question on the tip of his tongue, when she slips a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss him again. It’s almost desperate, but slow and gentle. Tyson lets himself get lost in it for a second. Madison squeezes his neck once before she pulls away. She gives him a soft smile. Tyson presses his forehead to hers for another second before he regretfully pulls away.
“See you in a few days,” she whispers.
Tyson deserves all the chirps he gets for being late.
The road trip fucking sucks, to say the least. Tyson’s jaw hurts more often than it doesn’t, and he ends up with more penalty minutes than points. He’s looking forward to going home and sleeping in his own bed for a minimum of twelve hours.
He panics, too, a little. It’s become startlingly obvious that he’s fucking head over heels for Madison, and he has no clue what to do about it. They’ve got a good thing going, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to mess with it, really. He doesn’t really want things to stay how they are, either.
So, panic. He thinks about JT calling Madison his girlfriend, just a few days before. He thinks of his own realization that the lines between hooking up and relationship have become blurred. What he needs is distance, some clarity. The time difference between Denver and the East Coast is an easy enough excuse to start; they’re busy, and it’s easy to let texts from Madison go unanswered for a few hours, or a few hours longer than a few hours.
Madison must get the hint, because her texts peter out after a few days.
Tyson is trying to find his keys in his carry-on bag as they step off the plane when he remembers that he left them with Madison so she could lock up his apartment for him. He’s locked out of his apartment and being iced out by Madison, and all he really wants is to go to sleep and not talk to anyone.
He sheepishly calls Madison as he leaves the airport. She sounds normal when she answers, and she doesn’t hesitate to say, “Sure,” when he asks if he can pick up his keys. Tyson climbs into his car tiredly and puts Madison’s address into his phone GPS.
Tyson’s only been to Madison’s place a few times. He hasn’t realized until now that he usually prefers having her over at his apartment. He likes seeing her there, forcing him to make room for herself in his life, at ease in his bed. He shakes those thoughts off.
Madison makes him wait when he knocks on her apartment door. He stands awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Finally, after what feels like forever, Madison swings the door open. She doesn’t move back to let Tyson in, keys already in her hand.
“Hi,” Tyson breathes. Madison raises an eyebrow at him. Tyson gets the sudden urge to apologize. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Thanks again, uh, for helping me with everything,” he says eventually. “I owe you.” He hasn’t seen his apartment yet, obviously, but he knows Madison left it cleaner than it’s been since he moved in, probably.
Madison’s breath catches. That was the wrong thing to say. “No, you don’t, Tyson,” she says shortly. She tosses Tyson his keys. He’s not expecting it and fumbles them. The sound of them hitting the ground is deafening. Tyson’s exhausted, and he’s only so strong.
“Can I come in?” he asks. “Please?”
Madison regards him. Tyson looks pathetic, if she’s being honest with herself, worn-out and worn-down. His swelling has gone down since she last saw him, but he looks uncomfortable. She gets the feeling it’s not just about his jaw. She, too, is only so strong. “C’mere,” she says, finally stepping back and opening the door wider. Tyson’s so relieved he could cry.
Tyson ends up collapsing in Madison’s bed and sleeps for twelve hours, face buried in a pillow that smells like her. So much for getting some distance.
Madison’s waiting outside Tyson’s apartment door when he gets home after beating Calgary a few nights later. Tyson’s tired, and cold, but he feels himself grinning when he sees her. She’s leaning casually against his door frame, playing idly on her phone, but she’s wearing one of Tyson’s hoodies. He wants nothing more than to kiss her right there, but he settles for bumping her out of the way with his hip so he can unlock his front door.
“What if JT had come home with me, huh? Or Cale?” Tyson asks instead of saying hello. She follows him inside and locks the door behind her. Tyson busies himself with his coat so he doesn’t blurt out something dumb. He and JT weren’t quite as inseparable as they used to be, but it could happen. And Cale only lived a few floors away. Though, now that Tyson thought of it, he hadn’t been inviting teammates over after games very much lately, not when there was usually someone else waiting for him.
He’s seen Madison since they got back from their road trip, but he misses her so much when she’s not around now. He can’t get enough of her. That probably means something. He’s working on it. Sort of.
“Hello to you, too, Tys,” she scoffs, kicking off her shoes. She carefully aims one at Tyson’s shin.
“Hey, hey, watch the suit pants,” he protests. He gives in and steps closer to her, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her into him. He allows himself a quick kiss, just a chaste one, forcing himself to pull away before either of them can deepen it.
She pouts at him. Tyson allows himself one more kiss. He is beginning to realize that he is so, so fucked.
Tyson strips off his suit jacket as he heads towards the kitchen. She trails after him. Tyson swings around to walk backwards so he can face her. He immediately bumps into the doorway to the kitchen and stumbles. He doesn’t turn back around.
“Snack first,” he says. He doesn’t say what comes next, but he’s pretty sure they both know.
“Didn’t you eat after the game at the Can?” she asks. Tyson drops his suit jacket on one of his kitchen chairs. She picks it up with a sigh and a small smile before draping it nicely over the back of the chair instead.
Tyson turns back around, intent on digging through his fridge. “Well, yeah, but—” He freezes. Blinks. There are balloons tied to the faucet of his sink. Next to them, a cookie cake and two wrapped presents. Tyson peers closer at the cookie cake. Happy birthday, Tys! It reads, in looping cursive.
Tyson turns slowly back to face her. She looks shy, biting her lip and watching Tyson with something like nervousness written across her face. Tyson feels guilty, suddenly, for the way he tried to put distance between them just a few days before.
“How did you—When?” Tyson gets out. She doesn’t look any less nervous, he realizes, and he rushes over to hug her.
She holds up a familiar key when he lets her go, the beginnings of a smile on her face, now. “Cale slipped me your spare key,” she explains. “I snuck in after you left for the game this afternoon, after I got off work.”
Tyson had completely forgotten that he and Cale had swapped spares when they ended up living in the same building. The idea was to save them from the potential embarrassment of locking your keys in your apartment, but apparently Cale was using his for more nefarious purposes now.
Madison had been surprised at how easy it had all been. She doesn’t even remember when she got Cale’s number, but he had readily agreed to help her out some. She’d even considered sticking around and surprising Tyson when he got home, but she still wasn’t quite sure how he’d react. She couldn’t tell with him sometimes.
Tyson has to kiss her. She giggles, breathless, when he pulls away.
“Well, now I know what we’re eating for a snack,” Tyson says, taking her hand and dragging her towards the island. He only lets go long enough to dig through a drawer for a knife and to tear off two paper towels. He cuts two large slices and hands one to her. He shoves a bite of cookie cake in his mouth before he says, I love you.
She hops up on the counter when they’ve both finished their slices, swinging her feet into the cabinets. Tyson steps between her legs and kisses her again, because he can. He reaches behind her and picks up one of the wrapped packages. It’s small, light. He flips it over once in his hands.
“Hey, your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she says, swiping for the present.
Tyson holds it out of her reach, and she wraps her legs around his waist, pressing him close against her. Tyson takes a deep breath.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says. He sticks a finger underneath a flap in the wrapping paper. He really hadn’t been expecting anything.
She shrugs. “It’s stupid,” she says.
“Good thing I like stupid,” Tyson counters. He tears into the wrapping paper properly, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. He’s left with a small book. “It’s a ukulele book?”
“It’s sheet music, so you can finally stop playing the same three songs all the time,” she says.
Tyson realizes he hasn’t said anything else. He stops staring and sets the book aside. “It’s perfect, not stupid,” he says. She tilts her chin for another kiss. Who is he to say no? “Thank you,” he murmurs against her lips. He reaches for the second present, still kissing her. She groans at him.
Tyson tears into the second present just as eagerly as the first. She’s laughing at him, and this time he crumples the wrapping paper up and tosses it at her face. It’s just a case of beer, Tyson’s favorite. He hadn’t realized she noticed it was always stocked in his fridge.
Her legs are still wrapped around his waist, and Tyson presses closer, as close as he can get. The counter digs into the tops of his thighs, but he’s too busy making out to care. She slides her hands into his hair. She tastes like cookie cake and peppermint Chapstick; Tyson would kiss her forever if he could.
Speaking of. They fell over the last time Tyson tried to carry her to his bedroom, but he slides his hands underneath her thighs, anyway, tugging her off the counter. She slips down, still pinned between Tyson and the countertop, still kissing him languidly.
“Gonna actually move at any point?” she eventually asks, pulling away to press her forehead to Tyson’s.
Tyson pretends to think about it. “I mean, we don’t have to go to bed,” he says. Not being on a bed hadn’t stopped them before.
She pushes on Tyson’s chest, and he goes, laughing. She lets herself be dragged to Tyson’s room, kicking the door shut behind her.
It’s late by the time they tumble into bed for real. She’s in one of Tyson’s shirts, and nothing else. If Tyson weren’t actually exhausted, he’d be considering round two. He had nearly gotten caught while they were cleaning up in the bathroom after round one, sleepily staring as she took off her makeup and brushed her teeth—a bottle of her makeup remover and her toothbrush live on Tyson’s sink, and have for months. Tyson tries not to look into it too much.
“What?” she’d asked, catching Tyson’s eye in the mirror.
He had shaken himself. “Nothing,” he said, giving her a sleepy grin. He pressed a kiss to her temple as he slipped out of the bathroom.
Madison watches him go. She’s trying to decipher that look in his eyes. His face was soft, fond behind drowsy eyes. She realizes she’s frozen with her toothbrush still in her mouth. Tyson’s waiting for her.
He’s staring up at the ceiling fan, rotating slowly above him, when she emerges and slips under the covers next to him. Her toes are cold where she presses them to Tyson’s leg, and he swears under his breath, even as he reaches across the bed to pull her closer. He presses a kiss to her hair and rests his chin on top of her head. Madison hides a smile in his chest.
Tyson wakes up slowly the next morning. It’s still early, the sunlight filtering through his curtains the hazy grey of dawn. Madison’s still asleep next to him when he rolls over. Tyson dares to pull her closer until she’s tucked underneath his chin again. Madison stirs a little, making a soft noise and pressing closer. She pulls back and blinks sleepily up at Tyson.
“Happy birthday, Tyson,” she murmurs.
Tyson grins at her and brushes a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. He kisses her quickly, and she makes a soft noise and leans into it before yawning. “Thank you,” Tyson whispers back. “Now go back to sleep.”
Madison grumbles, but snuggles back in, pressing her nose to Tyson’s collarbone.
It’s brighter out when Tyson next blinks himself awake. Madison’s already awake this time, scrolling quietly on her phone, but she sets it aside when she sees Tyson look at her. He rolls so he can prop himself up on one hand, leaning over Madison. She grins up at him, reaches to slide her fingers into Tyson’s hair.
Tyson has practice today, and then they’re leaving again. Those things aren’t important right now, though. What’s important is Madison’s mouth opening up to his, the pressure of her knee against his hip, the feel of her skin underneath his fingers when he slips a hand below her shirt.
It takes them a while to get out of bed.
Madison moves easily around Tyson when they finally make it into the kitchen. Tyson makes Madison coffee the way she likes it and mans the toaster while Madison makes them both eggs. She showers—Tyson bought all of her shower products weeks ago—while Tyson gets dressed. Tyson perches on the bathroom counter and watches while she does her makeup. She catches him looking at her.
“What?” she asks. She pushes her hair out of her face nervously.
“Uh,” Tyson says. He had gotten caught up, wasn’t really thinking about anything, distracted by thoughts of how easily Madison moves through his space, by his side.
“Tyson,” Madison says, impatient.
“Do you, uh, maybe wanna go on a date with me?” Tyson manages.
“Tys, you’re leaving on a road trip in,” she checks the time on her phone, “like four hours.”
Tyson rolls his eyes. “Okay, but we’ll be back in a few days. What about then?”
Madison smiles. “We’ll see, ask me when you get back.”
“That’s not a real answer,” Tyson says. He can hear himself whining. He needs this answer before he can board a plane, though. He grabs her wrist and tugs her closer. “C’mon, am I really that bad?”
She goes easily into Tyson’s side. She pretends to think about it for a moment—too long for Tyson’s nerves—before relenting. “When you get back,” she says. She goes up on her toes to kiss Tyson’s cheek. “Now get out of here before you’re late to practice.”
They don’t get to go on that date.
He’s in California when he gets the call. Minnesota. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming. The deadline’s coming up in, like, a week, and besides. He’d asked for a trade, hadn’t he? He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone before he’s back on a plane, this time to St. Paul.
He calls his mom first, asks if she’ll pack him some shit from his apartment in Denver. He was supposed to be back in just a few days.
“I don’t have any clothes for fucking Minnesota,” he complains, his one moment of self-appointed wallowing. He’ll be happy about this, probably, he just needs to process it.
He doesn’t think about it when he turns his phone off before getting on the plane. He’s met by some people from the Wild—the team, his team, now—at the airport in St. Paul, hustled to a hotel near Xcel Center with his meager belongings and left to “settle in.” He’s expected at morning skate tomorrow; his jaw aches.
They’ve put him up in a nice hotel downtown. He can see a river—the Mississippi, he thinks— out his window. His phone’s still off, tossed on the bed when he came in. He swipes it off the comforter and powers it back on, shoving it and a room key in his pocket on his way out the door.
His hotel room is too stuffy, too small. He takes the stairs and pushes his way outside. He can see the Xcel Center a few blocks away, and he turns his back to it, starts walking. He has no idea where he is or where he’s going. He hopes no one recognizes him.
It’s not long before he finds himself in a park alongside the river. It’s quiet, and no one looks twice at him as he finds an empty bench and finally pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his notifications: texts from Kacey and his grandpa—he’ll have to respond to them—dozens from his—former—teammates on the Avs that he ignores, a handful from numbers he doesn’t have saved, Wild players introducing themselves and welcoming him to the team—he’ll have to make some new contacts. He swipes everything away to deal with later, once his head stops spinning. He pauses on one text, the only one he’d really been looking for.
So much for that date, huh. it says. She’s added a broken heart emoji to soften the blow. Then, an hour later, call me when you get the chance. Another emoji at the end, a black heart, even though Tyson’s told her repeatedly that he can mostly tell colors apart.
He already knows what she’s going to say. Can you get broken up with before you’re even dating? How do you make friends-with-benefits work long-distance? Tyson’s not in the mood for that conversation, doesn’t know if he ever will be. He swipes away her notifications, too.
Minnesota is chilly, and Tyson’s fingertips are a little numb by the time his hotel room door slams behind him later. It’s getting dark. He should order dinner. He should do a lot of things, actually. He lets himself wallow for a few more minutes, flopped on his back in the center of the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling.
He halfheartedly peruses the room service menu on his nightstand before calling something in. He’s not even sure what he ordered.
Tyson’s woken up by knocking on his door. He blinks awake and stumbles blearily out of bed. It’s fully dark in his room now. Room service knocks on his door again.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Tyson grumbles, not even loud enough to be heard, probably.
His food is lukewarm at best by the time he gets everything spread out on the little desk in his room. Tyson picks at it more than he eats it.
Back in Denver, Madison’s phone doesn’t ring. She figured Tyson would be busy and exhausted by the time he made it to Minnesota. She wants to check in, but her messages show that they’ve been read. He’s made it clear that he’s not in the mood to chat.
It’s fine. He’s allowed to be upset over all this. Madison had just thought that they’d made it far enough in their relationship—whatever that relationship was—that she wouldn’t get stonewalled the second something serious happened.
She hasn’t had a chance to return Tyson’s spare key to Cale yet. She’d stayed behind after Tyson left for the airport on his birthday to clean up some of the disaster they’d left behind the night before. She was going to give it back when they got home. Except now Tyson’s not coming home, and she isn’t sure he’ll speak to her again, either.
She tries to convince herself she’s not hurt by it.
Madison sneaks back into Tyson’s apartment the day after the trade. She’s collected some of Tyson’s clothes over the last few months, and she should pick up her own belongings that have become scattered across his apartment. She’s not sure how Tyson’s going to get the rest of his stuff to Minnesota, but she knows it’s not her problem. Tyson’s made that clear.
She opens the text thread with Tys 🖤 again anyway. No new messages. She starts to type, to ask how Tyson’s doing, if he wants to talk, but she deletes it all. She closes her text thread with him again.
Madison wanders around the apartment, collecting things she recognizes as her own: her toothbrush, a half dozen ponytail holders that Tyson delights in tearing out of her hair to make out, the makeup remover that Tyson bought after she fell asleep there the first time and left makeup all over his pillowcase. She leaves the clothes she dug out of her closet and drawers folded on the end of his bed. She keeps one of his hoodies, because it’s comfy and it smells like him. It’s an Avs hoodie, anyway; it’s not like he’ll need it. The cookie cake she bought for his birthday is still sitting on the counter. They’d eaten it with breakfast on his actual birthday, but it was otherwise untouched. She figures someone will be by soon to pack up his apartment. She leaves it on the counter for them, whoever it is.
She locks the door behind her. It feels final in a way that she hates.
Tyson drags himself to morning skate early the next morning. He doesn’t feel like he slept much, though he fell asleep before he ever got around to responding to anyone’s texts. He makes no less than four wrong turns trying to find the home locker room in Xcel Center. The equipment staff has a locker set up for him already, all of his new gear waiting for him when he finds it. Tyson stares at the white practice jersey for a long moment, the green helmet already fitted with his full face shield and new number. He’s the only one in the locker room so far.
Tyson feels himself smile for the first time in what feels like days.
Skate passes in a blur. Tyson throws himself into everything the coaches ask of him, trying his best to learn a new team on the fly. His muscles ache from all the travel in the last few days and the lack of sleep, but he leans into the pain with a grin. It’s fun, in a weird way, and everyone’s quick to chirp Tyson, make him feel like he’s already a real part of the team.
Madison watches the Wild’s game that night. Tyson’s still in his little fishbowl after the broken jaw, and Madison winces every time he takes a check, even though she knows he’s fine, really. Minnesota wins. She doesn’t watch any of their other games, or follow Minnesota on any socials. She considers blocking Tyson’s phone number, the last message she sent to him still sitting open and unreplied to.
She can’t bring herself to do it.
Tyson’s mom, ever the lifesaver, arrives a few days later with most of the contents of his closet in tow. She’s also brought the cookie cake Madison had bought him for his birthday. It’s half-eaten and stale, now, reading only “-hday, Tys!” He eats a piece, anyway, and his mom doesn’t ask who bought it for him. She doesn’t ask any questions, actually, which Tyson is grateful for. He’s told her bits and pieces about Madison over the last few months, but he hasn’t told her how he’s fallen in love. It doesn’t matter now.
Tyson’s trying to unpack, give himself some semblance of “home” in his stale hotel room, when a piece of paper falls out of the pocket of one of his suit jackets. He picks it up and carefully unfolds it, though he already knows what it says. good luck tonight! ♡ in Madison’s pretty cursive. She’d tucked it into his suit before a game in January, and Tyson had scored a goal that night. He slipped it back in the inside pocket of the suit jacket. Maybe it’ll bring him luck in Minnesota, too.
Madison’s phone rings late one night, a few weeks after Tyson’s been traded. It’s the first time she’s heard from him since he left Denver. She squints at her phone screen in the dark, debating ignoring it. Tyson’s face grins up at her, a stupid selfie he had taken ages ago. She swipes to answer with a sigh.
“Tyson, if you’re just calling because you’re drunk or something, I swear—” she starts. She’s not really sure what she’ll do to Tyson, actually, so she trails off.
Tyson’s quiet on the other end of the line. Madison hears him take a shaky breath, but he still doesn’t speak for a long moment. “The Avs are in town,” he says finally. “Game’s tomorrow night,” he adds.
Madison hasn’t really been paying attention to either team’s schedule lately. She hasn’t had much reason to. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to say here, what’s the right answer to comfort Tyson. She might’ve once, but she feels wrong-footed now, unsure of where they stand.
“You gonna see anyone?” she asks.
Tyson huffs. “Yeah, I got dinner with some of them tonight.” He pauses. “They’re still my friends, y’know, it’s not like they’re the ones who traded me.”
Madison hums, something like agreement. She thinks she can hear the hurt in Tyson’s voice, even though he’s trying to hide it.
He’s still talking. “I’ve just…never had to play against my best friends like this before.”
“Oh, Tys,” Madison says softly. “That sucks, babe.” The familiar endearment slips out before she can stop herself.
“Yeah, it sucks alright,” Tyson agrees. He’s quiet again. “Wish you could be here, too. Miss you.”
“You don’t mean that,” Madison says. With the game tomorrow, Tyson might not be drunk, but it’s late, and he’s wallowing in missing his friends. She doesn’t think she really qualifies as that anymore.
“What do you mean?” Tyson asks, indignant. “Of course I mean it.”
“Is that why this is the first time we’ve spoken since you got traded? Two weeks ago?” Madison’s angry, suddenly; that small spark of hurt she’s been trying to bury flares into fury.
She can practically hear Tyson’s wince on the other end of the line. It’s too late to be arguing, but this is where they’re at now.
“Sorry for not wanting to get dumped hours after I got shipped off to fucking Minnesota,” Tyson snaps back, but he sounds tired.
The fight leaves Madison just as quickly as it appeared. “Who said anything about breaking up?”
Tyson’s quiet. Madison can picture the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s thinking too hard. “You asked me to call you!”
“I asked you to call me because I wanted to check on you, dumbass.” Madison rubs at her eyes. They should both be asleep, but now she feels too awake to hang up, to end this conversation. She might be annoyed, but it’s the first time she’s heard Tyson’s voice in weeks. She’s missed it, though she’s not about to admit that right now. “How can I even break up with a guy I’ve never been on a real date with?” she asks.
“Oh.”
“It’s been a wild fucking month for you, Tys, I wanted to talk to you and see how you were handling shit,” Madison continues.
Tyson realizes now might not be the best time to admit that he’d requested a trade. This had still blindsided him, somehow. He considers switching to a FaceTime call. He desperately wants to see Madison’s face, the next best thing to being with her right now, getting to touch her. He winces again when she sniffles on the other end of the line. He’d been lonely when he called her, expecting some sympathy, not the anger he was met with.
He guesses he probably should’ve considered she’d be mad at him after moving over 900 miles away and then giving her radio silence for two weeks, actually. He taps the FaceTime button a little harder than necessary. He’s almost surprised when Madison accepts the request.
He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been busy,” he says weakly. “I didn’t think—I just figured you were wanting to tell me that we couldn’t keep doing this.” It seems obvious given the distance, but Tyson really hadn’t been in the mood to get effectively broken up with twice in one day.
Madison’s eyes burn as she swipes at them, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the late hour, or if she’s about to cry.
Tyson realizes something. “Besides, you had just gotten spooked and tried to slow things down, I didn’t think you’d want to jump from just hooking up to long-distance.” It’s too dark for him to tell if she’s crying. He hopes she isn’t.
“That was—” Madison starts to protest. But Tyson’s right. It had only been a few weeks since she’d panicked about how fast they were headed towards a real relationship. That had been before the broken jaw, before Tyson’s birthday, before he got traded. Before Madison had the chance to realize just how much she cared about Tyson, and liked Tyson, and how much she missed him when he wasn’t just a text away.
“I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend for real, you know? On that date? But then I was in Minnesota, and I hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to anyone, and I wasn’t ready to talk about anything.” Madison opens her mouth to argue more, but Tyson cuts her off. “You want to know how I’m handling shit? Not well,” he admits.
Hockey is hockey, but he’s not sure Minnesota will ever feel like home the way Denver still does.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Madison blurts.
Tyson laughs in spite of himself. “So many things,” he says. It’s easy, for a second, to forget they’re arguing. Fuck, he wishes Madison were with him, and not for the first, or the third, or the tenth time since he’s been in Minnesota. “I guess I should’ve texted instead of shutting you out, huh? I just never knew what to say.”
“You’re an idiot,” Madison says softly. “I really did just want to check on you. But you left me on read, and then a few days had passed, so I guess you’d made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to talk. I didn’t even think about worrying about our future then.”
Tyson squeezes his eyes shut. He’s blurry on Madison’s phone screen, but she can tell his hair is a disaster, like he’s been anxiously pulling on his curls.
“Did I accidentally break up with you to avoid being broken up with?” he asks. He sounds like he’s on the verge of laughter. Or maybe tears. Madison can’t quite tell, actually.
“Mmm, I think so, babe,” Madison says. She rolls over in bed, stifling a yawn. It’s late in Denver, but it’s even later in St. Paul, she thinks. “Hey, you need to sleep. “You’ve gotta beat the Avs tomorrow.” She glances at the clock in the corner of her screen. “Well. Today, I guess.”
Tyson sticks his tongue out at her, but he snuggles deeper into his pillows. “Can I call you later?” His voice is small.
“Yeah, Tys.” They’ve got a lot more to talk about. “Say hi to JT and Cale for me, yeah?” she says.
Tyson grins at her. He stops himself from saying, “I love you,” before he hangs up, but only barely, settling on, “Good night,” instead. There’s still time for the other one, he thinks
The game is…fine. They slap a microphone on Tyson before he goes out on the ice, and it’s definitely weird facing off against some of his best friends, but he gets through it. He doesn’t score, but he doesn’t land in the penalty box either, so. He spends some time attempting to chirp an exasperated EJ that he’ll probably get made fun of for later. Oh, and the Wild win. Tyson guesses it’s an okay night, after all.
Tyson misses Denver, misses playing at the Can, but after facing off against his friends on the still-unfamiliar ice in Minnesota, he’s not sure he can handle returning.
Madison finds herself watching the Avs game for the first time in weeks, but she’s not watching for them. She’s paying attention to all of Tyson’s shifts, and she realizes halfway through the game that she’s completely rooting against the Avs.
The final buzzer has barely blown when she’s pulling out her phone to text Tyson. She hesitates for a moment, unsure of the right thing to say. She feels like they finally made progress last night after Tyson stonewalled her for weeks, but they’re still a half dozen steps behind where they were in the beginning of March. She somehow knows more than she did before Tyson called her, but she feels like she understands their relationship even less now.
She must type four or five messages before she settles on, great win :) 🖤. She kind of hates it as soon as she sends it, but she can’t take it back. She tosses her phone to the other end of the couch before she can obsess over waiting for Tyson to text her back. She doesn’t have to wait long, though, before her phone is vibrating near her feet. She takes one breath, then another, before scrambling for her phone again.
Tyson’s texted back, thanks babe. Then, less than a minute later, wish you were here.
Madison stares at her phone, chewing on her bottom lip. She doesn’t know the right thing to say once again. ‘Me too’ feels too earnest, ‘wish you were still here instead’ feels mean somehow. She still doesn’t know when she’ll see Tyson again, if she’ll see Tyson again. All she has is a version of Tyson through a screen. Her thumb hovers over the call button. Tyson’s probably busy with post-game stuff, Madison reminds herself. She misses his voice, though.
She finally settles on: :). She waits anxiously until Tyson has read it before sending: Call me later?
She checked the Wild’s schedule already; they’re in town for a few more days. Tyson will probably be heading straight home—wherever “home” is these days— after the game. She spares a moment to wonder about the future of Tyson’s old apartment in Denver. She wonders if it’s been emptied out yet, wiped clean of all traces of Tyson, of them. That had been home to Tyson, and it had almost started to feel like home to Madison, too.
Tyson sends her back a thumbs up emoji and an emoji with its tongue sticking out. Madison rolls her eyes fondly and tosses her phone back to the end of her couch.
She’s dozing when her phone rings. Half-asleep, she fumbles for it before answering. “‘Lo?” she mumbles.
Tyson chuckles softly at her. “You asked me to call you and then fell asleep,” he says, tsk-ing.
Madison sticks her tongue out at him, even though he can’t see her. “Shut up, it’s late,” she whines.
“Then go to bed, Mads,” Tyson tells her. She can tell he’s trying not to laugh at her.
Madison feels like a toddler protesting bedtime, but she says, “No! I wanna talk to you.”
Tyson laughs again. “Okay, are you at least in bed already?”
“...No.”
“Go brush your teeth, and get in bed, yeah? We can keep talking then.”
Madison sighs but heaves herself off her couch and into her bathroom. Tyson starts chatting as she walks, mindless stuff, like the weather in St. Paul, or how bored he is of living in a hotel room still. Madison puts him on speaker and sets her phone next to the sink so she can keep listening while she washes her face and brushes her teeth. It almost feels like getting ready for bed alongside Tyson again, elbowing each other for space in front of his bathroom mirror.
He falls quiet as she crawls underneath her blankets. Madison stifles a yawn.
“How was it?” she asks.
“The game?” Madison nods, forgetting again that Tyson can’t see her. Tyson continues anyway. “I mean, it was fine, I guess. We won, so.”
“Just fine?” Madison prods.
Tyson hesitates. “Weird,” he says after a few seconds. “It was weird. Feels like a Twilight Zone episode, honestly. Like I woke up one day in some other life that everyone else swears didn’t happen. Like, you get traded, and everyone expects you to immediately fit in with this new locker room, and be all in with your new team. As if all the games played with your friends never even happened.”
Madison doesn’t know what to say to that. It must be weird to have to effectively sever all ties with your best friends. To know and trust the face across the faceoff dot from you. She probably couldn’t handle it if she were in Tyson’s place,
“I’m sorry, Tys,” she murmurs, for lack of anything better to say. “It’s business, but business is shitty.”
Tyson huffs in agreement. Madison’s wearing the hoodie she stole from Tyson, and she tucks her nose underneath the collar. It doesn’t smell like Tyson any more.
“Hey, is now a bad time to ask if we can have phone sex?” Tyson asks.
Madison bursts out laughing. “Yes, Tyson, it’s a terrible time.” Tyson whines a little at her. “Though,” she adds, “I am wearing one of your hoodies.”
Tyson groans. The few times Madison had worn something of his around him, it usually wasn’t long before the clothes ended up back on the floor.
“Now you’re just being mean,” he says. His voice is muffled like he’s buried his head underneath a pillow.
Madison yawns again.
“You need to go to sleep,” Tyson tells her gently.
“No,” Madison protests again. “Tell me more about Minnesota,” she pleads. “I’ve missed listening to you.”
Madison can’t read Tyson’s moment of silence, but he starts doing as he’s told, telling Madison more about his hotel, about the food in the locker room after games at Xcel Center and how different it is from Denver, about all the different personalities on the team, until Madison falls asleep.
Madison wakes up to a dead phone. She plugs it in while she showers, and she immediately checks her call log. Tyson had kept talking for well over an hour. He texted her, too, after he’d hung up. Miss you, promise we’ll talk more soon.
Madison responds the only way she knows how: 🖤.
April
The end of the season passes in a blur after that. Tyson settles in as best he can, but he feels like he barely has time to catch his breath. With the end of the season and the playoffs looming, there’s no time for Tyson to find a real place to live, so he’s still holed up in the hotel, living out of suitcases.
Time moves differently in hotels, he swears, the days blurring into one another. Tyson no longer knows what day it is; it’s only travel day, or game day, or rarely, a day off.
The Wild are winning more than they lose, and Tyson manages to pick up some points here and there. It could be worse. At least it’s not, like, Buffalo.
The team goes on the road for the first time since he got there, and it’s a good chance for Tyson to get to know everyone a little better, spend some time out of his generic hotel room—even if he goes back to another generic hotel room after each dinner out with the guys. He makes a point to call Madison as much as he can, which is almost every night after he crashes into bed and turns on some shitty TV.
Their phone calls end up lasting for hours. Tyson realizes that he and Madison spent more time hooking up than really getting to know each other. It’s nice to take the time to just talk and learn things about Madison. Tyson feels himself falling in love more with each phone call.
Tyson talks about his family—his sister, his mom, his grandparents. How much he misses them with the long seasons away. How much he’s looking forward to going home to Alberta when the season ends. He doesn’t tell Madison that he wants to bring her home with him this summer, not yet.
Madison tells Tyson about everything: her job (graphic design and marketing for a local business Tyson vaguely thinks he recognizes), her family (two sisters, one of whom Tyson briefly met), and her favorite movies (Lord of the Rings, but Tyson could have guessed that). When she tells him she likes to bake, Tyson immediately demands that she sends him some. He’s not even sure if he can get mail at the hotel, actually. Not important.
Tyson throws himself into hockey, though he’s not sure how much it shows. He’s determined to make this work, to stick and make a difference in Minnesota the way he never quite could in Colorado. He tells Madison this, too, voicing fears about his future in hockey that he’s never even let himself think about too much.
The Wild plays the Avalanche again in St. Paul on the last day of the season. Tyson’s dreading it. He’s privately more than a little glad that they’re not playing the Avs in the first round, but he still can’t help but feel like he should be there instead, still on a powerhouse team poised to take on the postseason, not the underdogs.
Tyson calls Madison a week before the game, laying in bed, fresh off a single assist in back to back wins against Vancouver and Seattle. Tyson can hear the smile in Madison’s voice when she answers. Tyson’s chest hurts with how much he misses her.
Which is probably why he blurts, “Can you come to Minnesota?”
Madison’s quiet for so long Tyson pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect.
Finally, she says, “Tyson, I can’t just drop everything and fly to Minnesota.”
“No, I know, I just meant next week,” he says. “We play the Avs again.”
Madison knows that, this time. She’s actually started paying attention to the Wild—mostly just Tyson, though—since April started.
“That’s a Friday night, Tys,” she tells him. “I’d have to take off work for the day.” She could, probably, without too much fuss. She just wants to hear Tyson beg a little. She’s still a tiny bit hurt by the way he stonewalled her after the trade.
“I’ll pay for your plane ticket!” Tyson adds. That wasn’t really Madison’s point. “I really want you to be there, I need to see you again.”
Madison already knows she can’t tell Tyson no. She sighs and drags her laptop towards her. She starts searching for plane tickets. “Just for the game on Friday, or am I allowed to stay the whole weekend?” she asks.
Tyson scoffs. “Like I’d let you leave after one night when I haven’t seen you in two like two months.” He’s already planning on only leaving the hotel room except for practice and maybe to finally take Madison on an actual date. Actually: “Hey, pack something nice to wear. I still owe you a date.”
Madison laughs. “How nice are we talking?”
“Oh, baby, I’m gonna wine and dine you so hard,” Tyson says, breaking off into laughter before he can even finish the sentence.
Madison spends the next week, alternating between excited and anxious. Excited because she hasn’t seen Tyson in weeks, and she can’t wait to be able to kiss him again. She’s not sure why she’s even worried. She and Tyson have already spent months doing almost everything couples do, just without the label. They already know they work well together. Adding a label shouldn’t change things.
She goes out and buys a new dress the day before her flight, after frantically deciding that nothing in her closet was good enough for a first date.
“He already knows what you look like,” her sister Emma points out. “It’s not like you have to worry about him liking you. Also, he’s colorblind.”
Madison ignores her (annoyingly correct) sister and spends almost over an hour in the mall. She carefully packs the new dress at the top of her suitcase before zipping it up and leaving it by her front door. She’s so excited she can hardly sleep.
It’s not a long flight from Denver to Minnesota, but Madison’s not used to flying, and the whole affair has her stressed beyond belief. It takes her unbelievably long to find her gate, and even though she got to KDEN plenty early, she still worries that she’ll be late. It’s a relief when she can finally settle in her seat. She turns on a Disney movie she doesn’t really watch and counts the minutes until she can see Tyson again.
Except then she can’t find her luggage, and Tyson’s supposed to be picking her up and isn’t answering her texts. It takes her twenty minutes to find out that another passenger mistakenly took her suitcase and has brought it back, and Tyson still hasn’t responded to tell her that he’s waiting.
She makes her way outside anyway, following the signs towards parking. Her hands are too full with her carry-on and suitcase to reach for her phone to call Tyson, but when she steps outside her terminal, she recognizes the person behind the wheel of a car just pulling up to the curb.
Tyson has the car in park and is jumping out before Madison can take another step. She’s so overwhelmed she bursts into tears.
She drops her bags to launch herself at Tyson, wrapping her arms around his neck. He doesn’t stumble, just slides his arms around her waist and hugs her back.
“Whoa, whoa, why the tears?” he asks, wiping one away with his thumb.
“I just really missed you,” Madison mumbles into his shirt.
Tyson presses a kiss to her hair. He unwraps one hand and reaches for the handle of Madison’s suitcase. “Well, let’s get you in the car, and then we can talk, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer, letting go of Madison fully to swing her suitcase into the trunk. Madison slips into the passenger seat while he throws her carry-on in, too, before he’s jogging back to the driver’s side. He leans across the console to kiss Madison’s cheek.
“Missed you, too, by the way,” he says.
Madison feels silly for crying now. Everything always seems better when Tyson’s around, and right now is no exception, with the windows rolled down and Tyson singing loudly—and badly—to the song on the radio. Tyson reaches for Madison’s hand, and she lets him slip his fingers between hers. Something restless in Madison’s chest settles when he touches her.
They don’t much as Tyson drives, the city flashing by out the car windows. It’s been ages since they saw each other, but they talk almost every day; there’s not much to catch up on. Madison likes it, the comfortable quiet between two people who know each other well.
Tyson apologizes for the fact that he’s still living in a hotel on the elevator ride up to his room.
“Tyson, I don’t care where you’re living, I’m just glad to be able to see you again,” she tells him.
Tyson blushes, but he also boxes her in against the elevator wall to kiss her properly for the first time since she got off the plane. Madison trails after him as he heads down the hallway and pushes open his hotel room door with a dorky sweep of his arm.
The room’s bigger than Madison expected, with a kitchenette that doesn’t look like it’s been used at all, and a little couch and desk near the TV. Madison can see the bed, sheets rumpled and twisted like Tyson has never bothered to make it in the weeks he’s been here. Tyson’s watching Madison survey the room like he’s nervous.
“So, what’s next?” Madison asks.
With the game last night, Tyson didn’t have skate today, but she’s familiar enough with his game day routine to know he should probably be napping soon. She could go for a nap herself. Madison doesn’t wait for an answer, just dumps her carry-on bag on the couch and wanders over to the bed. Tyson follows, still rolling Madison’s suitcase behind him. Madison flops backwards onto the bed. The sheets smell like Tyson.
“Well?” she asks, raising one eyebrow at him.
Tyson scrambles onto the bed after her. He drops to his elbows above Madison and leans down to kiss her, eager and not exactly gentle. Madison reaches up to thread her fingers into his curls. She runs her fingers through his hair once, twice, before closing her hand and tugging. Tyson groans into her mouth, but he gentles the kiss. They make out until they’re both breathless, and Tyson has to pull away.
“I really should nap,” he says once he catches his breath. Madison tilts her chin up for another kiss. Tyson rolls his eyes but obliges, just a quick peck. He shifts his weight to one hand and pinches the outside of Madison’s thigh with the other. “C’mon, I wanna cuddle.”
They both clamber up the bed until Madison can collapse onto the pillows. Tyson collapses on top of her.
“Oof, bud, what the hell,” she manages. Tyson’s heavy, and it’s hard to breathe.
“Told you I wanted to cuddle,” Tyson says back, face smushed into Madison’s collarbone.
Madison pokes Tyson in the ribs, then again, harder, when he doesn’t react, until he sighs and squirms off her. Her reprieve doesn’t long, though, because Tyson immediately reaches out for Madison and pulls her close. She rolls onto her side to face him, and he grins at her.
“You’re an idiot,” she tells him.
Tyson’s grin only grows. “Yeah, but you like me.”
Madison slides a hand around the back of Tyson’s neck and kisses him.
When Tyson's alarm goes off later, they’ve shifted in their sleep, and Tyson’s half-laying on top of Madison again. He slaps at his phone without moving and somehow manages to snooze the alarm.
“Not ready yet,” Madison mumbles, wrapping an arm around Tyson and keeping him close. He huffs a laugh against Madison’s skin.
“I’ve gotta get ready, baby,” he says. He kisses Madison’s shoulder.
Madison should probably get up, too. She wants to shower the plane funk off and make herself presentable for the game. But Tyson’s bed is really comfy. Tyson rolls off of her, and Madison whines at the loss of her human blanket.
Tyson shoots her an amused look. He leans back over Madison to kiss her one more time, but he avoids her attempts at dragging him back to bed. Madison pouts up at him. It doesn’t work. She watches from the bed as Tyson gets dressed in his gameday suit. He kisses her goodbye before he leaves.
Left alone in the eerie silence of the hotel, Madison forces herself out of bed and into the shower. She brings her Bluetooth speaker with her, blasting one of her playlists loud enough to be heard over the water. She emerges in a cloud of steam to dig through her suitcase for the outfit she’d packed for tonight. She doesn’t own anything Wild-branded, and she doesn’t think wearing Tyson’s old Avalanche hoodie would go over too well. She’d had to buy something new for this, too: an amazing fleece-lined green corduroy jacket that she’d probably live in come fall.
She takes the opportunity to poke around the hotel room a little, looking for traces of Tyson in the unfamiliar space. One of the blankets from his apartment was thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed. His ukulele sits on top of the desk. Madison hangs her date-night dress up in the little closet and finds her own good luck note to Tyson taped to the door. The kitchenette is full of Tyson’s snacks, including some of Madison’s favorites. It’s not much, but it’s enough.
Madison eventually makes her way to the Xcel Center. She’s met by someone’s significant other outside—it’s a blur of faces and names she can hardly keep track of—before they head to their seats. She’d gotten used to the atmosphere at The Can, and Xcel Center is different but the same. It’s easy enough to settle into the rhythm of the game and the crowd. The game is wild from puck drop, but Minnesota manages to pull out a win. Tyson even scores the game winning goal.
She follows the rest of the girls downstairs to the family room after the game. She’s restless, full of energy after the game, with no outlet for it. She all but tackles Tyson when he pokes his head in, stripped down to his base layers, but his curls still plastered to his head with sweat.
“Whoa,” he says, steadying her as they tumble out into the hallway. He’s grinning at her, cheeks pink. He lets Madison pin him up against the wall opposite them. “Hi.”
Madison kisses him, before she can blurt something embarrassing, like, “I love you,” or, “That goal was hot.” Tyson makes a surprised noise into her mouth but kisses back easily, his hands tightening on her hips. He pulls away after a minute.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he whispers, kissing her temple. Louder, he says, “JT has requested to see you.”
Madison’s a little surprised, but pleased, to hear that. She’s hung out with JT a handful of times since she met him back in January, but she doesn’t think she’s talked to him since Tyson got traded. It had always felt more like JT was just a friend of a friend she got along with.
Tyson drags her down the halls towards the visitors’ locker room, JT’s already waiting for them, leaning against the door frame and messing around on his phone. Unlike Tyson, he’s dressed in clean clothes. He looks up as they approach and grins at them. Tyson doesn’t let go of Madison’s hand.
JT ropes Madison into a one-armed hug. “Think you’re Josty’s good luck charm. He’s scored twice now at games you’ve been to.” Tyson sticks his tongue out at JT.
Someone from inside the locker room yells Tyson’s name, and he’s momentarily distracted. JT leans in closer to Madison.
“Take care of our boy, yeah?” he says, quietly so Tyson, who’s still talking to someone else, won’t hear. “He needs you.”
Madison’s not sure how to respond to that. She’s saved by Tyson remembering they’re there. JT smacks a kiss to Madison’s cheek and nudges her back towards Tyson.
“See you around?” he asks Tyson.
“C’mon, you know you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Madison watches them hug, and then Tyson’s leading her back down the maze of hallways. He says something to her before dropping her off outside the family room, but she doesn’t really hear it, lost in her own thoughts, thinking about JT’s words.
She’s still thinking about what JT said when Tyson rejoins her, as they make their way back to the hotel, up the elevator and into Tyson’s hotel room. She and Tyson move quietly, easily, around each other as they start to change out of their game-day clothes. She’s still lost in her thoughts when Tyson hooks his chin over her shoulder, startling her as she’s taking her makeup off.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. He looks worried. “You’ve been quiet all night.”
Madison shrugs. “Nothing.”
Madison watches in the mirror as Tyson’s brow furrows further. “Did something happen?” Madison knows he’d been worried about how the Wild WAGs would receive her.
She shrugs Tyson’s chin off her shoulder, suddenly annoyed. “No, Tys, nothing happened.”
Nothing did happen, unless you count JT Compher’s casual words sending Madison into a spiral.
Tyson slides between Madison and the sink. He crosses his arms. “I don’t believe you.”
Madison rolls her eyes, but gives Tyson a quick peck, before hip checking him out of the way so she can brush her teeth. Tyson watches, still suspicious. Madison ushers him towards the bed. He sits and drags Madison into his lap. He frowns up at her.
“Tys, really. Everything was just overwhelming, I guess.” Also not a lie; she’d never been to a hockey game as Tyson’s girlfriend—or, almost-girlfriend—and everything had been overwhelming in a way she hadn’t expected. Most things had been the same, but sitting with the rest of the wives and girlfriends and listening to them ask her questions about her life and job had almost felt like a well-meaning interrogation.
“Promise?”
Madison kisses Tyson, slow and gentle. “Promise.”
She yelps when Tyson flips them suddenly. He rolls on top of her, propping himself up on his hands. Madison can tell that he’s not letting this go.
“Then what’s wrong?” He chews nervously on his lower lip for a moment. “And don’t say nothing, I know you’re lying.”
Madison huffs. “Just something JT said.” She shoves at Tyson’s shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. His glasses are crooked from his acrobatics, and Madison reaches up to adjust those next. He swats at her hand.
“I’ll kill him,” he says confidently.
“First, I think JT would beat you in a fight,” Madison says. Tyson makes a noise of protest, and Madison slaps a hand over his mouth. “Second, it wasn’t anything bad, I don’t know, just made me think.”
Tyson pries Madison’s hand away. “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” he says.
He’s distracted enough that Madison can hook a leg over his hips and flip them back over. She settles across his lap as Tyson blinks dazedly up at her.
“He asked me to take care of you, said you need me, whatever.” Madison’s trying to brush it off, as if she hadn’t spent hours thinking about it, as if she doesn’t feel uncomfortably seen. Far too vulnerable for something that was supposed to just be a hook-up way back in November.
They’ve come a long way since November.
Tyson’s face clears. “What do you mean, ‘whatever?’” He surges up to kiss Madison before he continues. “Of course I need you. I fucking miss you constantly. I’ve wanted literally nothing but to be around you, like, all the time since, like, December.”
“Oh.” Madison should have realized that, maybe. It’s different to hear Tyson lay it out like that. “I didn’t realize,” she whispers. Tyson grins up at her. “You did kinda ghost me for a while there,” she points out.
Tyson groans. “I am never gonna hear the end of that, am I?” He runs his fingers through Madison’s hair, tugs a little at the ends. “I panicked because I was terrified of losing you, remember?” He punctuates his sentence with another gentle kiss. His hand slips from Madison’s hair to her waist, underneath her T-shirt. He’s missed the feeling of her underneath his hands. An emotion Madison can’t read crosses his face for a second before he says, “Do you—do you not—?” Feel the same way, is what he means to say, but can’t quite get out.
Madison understands him, anyway. “No, God, Tyson, no.” She hesitates; she supposes they’re laying it all on the line here. “I think I’m in love with you.”
Tyson surprises her by bursting out laughing. Hurt, Madison tries to squirm out of Tyson’s lap, but he reels her in and kisses her until she melts into his hands.
“Baby, I’ve been in love with you since you showed up at my door for a Lord of the Rings marathon.” He giggles a little and kisses Madison’s nose. “We’ve done this all backwards, haven’t we?”
Madison giggles a little too and nods. “I don’t think we’re very good at all this,” she whispers.
Tyson shakes his head, still laughing. “We’ll get better. I mean, look at us, we’re already communicating more!”
Madison kissed him again to shut him up, but by then they were both too busy laughing to take it much farther. Madison collapses to the sheets next to Tyson, letting herself dissolve into giggles. It feels good to laugh like this with Tyson, the last bit of uneasy tension Madison didn’t even know existed disappearing at last. Madison feels delirious with it: the stress of the last few weeks, the long day of travel and hockey, the raw vulnerability of finally being honest with Tyson.
They laugh for longer than the situation warrants. Tyson eventually heaves a sigh and turns his head on his pillow to look at Madison, eyes uncharacteristically serious. Madison sucks in a breath and forces herself to stop laughing.
“I mean it, you know,” Tyson says. “I’ve been falling for you for a long time.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, props himself up on an elbow. “I guess this means you’re officially my girlfriend now, huh?”
“Huh, guess so.” Tyson beams at her. “Don’t think this gets you out of wining and dining me tomorrow, though,” she threatens.
Tyson leans down to kiss Madison. “I don’t put out on the first date,” he murmurs.
Madison drags him closer, slots her mouth against his again. “Bit late for that, babe.”
Madison wakes up late the next morning, bright sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. Tyson’s already awake, sitting up against the headboard and fucking around on his phone. He never got dressed besides finding his boxers, and his glasses are slipping down his nose. He grins down at her when he realizes she’s awake.
“You’re a dork,” Madison says, rolling over to bury her face in a pillow again. Tyson pokes her shoulder blade, and she turns her head enough to glare at him.
“Brunch in bed, or go somewhere?” Tyson asks, poking Madison again.
Madison’s not wearing anything, either, and she’d have to shower and fix her hair before they could leave the hotel room. “Bed,” she says, burrowing back into her pillow. Actually, it might be one of Tyson’s pillows. It’s hers now.
Tyson chuckles and rolls out of bed to hunt down the room service menu. He orders a bunch of stuff that they can share, but makes sure to include an omelet for Madison. He learned a while ago that she always has to have an omelet with breakfast. He’s also learned not to question it. He jumps back onto the bed. Madison bounces with it, and turns once more to glare at him.
Her hair’s a disaster, and Tyson thinks he can see a hickey he left low on her neck. He loves her so much. He remembers he can tell her that now.
“I love you,” he blurts. Madison’s face softens. “Also, breakfast in thirty.” He tugs a little on the sheet where it’s slipping down Madison’s shoulders. “Plenty of time for…”
“For what, Tyson?” Madison asks. She’s laughing, now, and she rolls over, letting Tyson slide between her thighs and kiss her, slow and easy.
He has to fish his boxers out of the sheets again when room service knocks on the door, but it’s worth it.
Madison drags herself out of bed after they eat. Tyson’s promised her plans all day, so she and Tyson take turns showering and making themselves presentable. Tyson holds Madison’s hand from the door of the hotel room until they reach his car, and even then, he only lets go after he opens the door for her and kisses her on the cheek.
It’s a warm spring day, and Tyson drives with the windows down through downtown St. Paul. He refuses to tell Madison where he’s taking her.
“Can we at least get coffee if you’re going to kidnap me?” Madison whines.
“I don’t think it’s kidnapping if you willingly got in the car,” Tyson points out mildly. He pulls into the next Starbucks drive-thru he sees, though, so Madison’s pretty sure she wins the argument.
Placated with caffeine, she stops pestering Tyson for details, but it’s only another few minutes before he’s turning into a parking lot for Como Park Zoo.
“Oh my God, are you serious?” Madison asks. She’d idly mentioned, a while ago, that she wanted to visit the Denver Zoo when it got warmer. She had no idea that Tyson would remember that.
Tyson smirks at her. “I think it’s a little smaller than Denver Zoo—”
Madison cuts him off. “Shut up, it’s gonna be great.”
And it is great. Madison all but runs between animal exhibits, and Tyson’s more than happy to be dragged along by the hand, even though he thinks his nose is getting sunburned. They entertain themselves by naming the animals after his old teammates.
“You can’t name them all EJ,” Madison says at one point.
“Well, why not?” Tyson argues. Madison…doesn’t have a good argument for that, actually.
There’s gardens, too, and they wander through those after they’ve looped around the zoo, holding hands the whole time. Madison’s pretty sure she enjoys the flowers more than Tyson, but he waits good-naturedly when she stops to point out a pretty flower or to take some pictures. It all feels like a date, which Madison supposes it is, actually.
“Hey, wait,” Tyson says suddenly, after Madison stands back up from taking a photo. “We should get a picture of us.” He snatches Madison’s phone from her hand.
There’s an older couple nearby, and Tyson approaches them with a smile. Madison can hear him asking if one of them would mind, “taking a picture of me and my girlfriend?” She’s sure she’s blushing when Tyson comes back over and winds an arm around her waist. She smiles obligingly at the camera next to Tyson, and doesn’t even flinch when he turns and smacks a kiss to her cheek for the last one.
Tyson’s gracious and sweet as he takes Madison’s phone back, but he turns on Madison with an evil glint in his eye.
“Shut up,” Madison says, turning and walking away from Tyson so he can’t see that she’s still blushing.
Tyson jogs to keep up, spinning around and walking backwards so he can keep smirking at Madison. “You liked hearing me call you my girlfriend, huh?”
“Shut up,” Madison says again.
Tyson steps in front of Madison suddenly, blocking her path completely. She bumps into him. He’s still grinning. “Get used to it fast, because I can’t wait to tell everyone you’re my girlfriend.”
Madison claps a hand over his mouth before he can literally start yelling about it. Tyson pries her hand away and uses it to pull her in for a kiss.
“I love you,” he murmurs. The novelty of hearing that from Tyson hasn’t worn off, either.
Madison kisses him again because she can.
They head out not long after that. Tyson starts insisting that they can’t be late for their dinner reservation, even though it’s still early afternoon. Madison lets him take her by the hand again and all but drag her back to the car.
She’s suddenly tired once she’s sitting back in the passenger seat, the sun and the walking catching up to her. She rests her head on the window while Tyson drives, fighting back a yawn. Tyson still catches her, and he reaches across to poke her in the thigh. She swats half-heartedly at his hand.
“Do I have time to take a nap?” Madison murmurs.
“What? No way!” He pokes Madison harder. “I’m supposed to be wining and dining you, remember?”
“But I’m sleepy,” Madison whines. She’ll rally, probably; she needs to complain a little first. Tyson pokes her harder.
“That’s not allowed,” Tyson says. It’s not a long drive back to the hotel, and they’re most of the way back there already. Tyson checks the time on the dashboard. There’s still a few hours before their dinner reservation. “Okay, how about a mini nap?” he allows. “But we’re setting like three alarms.”
It’s important to him that he still gets this first date right, even if they have done their entire relationship backwards. They got to the right place in the end, though, right?
Madison crashes into bed as soon as they’re back in the room. Tyson considers her for a moment. She’s already wriggled under the sheets, but she’s lying directly in the middle of the bed.
Tyson collapses on top of Madison. He catches himself at the last second so he doesn’t completely crush her, because he’s nice like that. Madison giggles, but she squirms and tries to elbow Tyson.
Her voice is muffled into the pillow as she tries to say, “Get off me.”
Tyson lets his weight press her further into the mattress. “Nope, ‘m comfy.” He does fish his phone out of his pocket to set an alarm and roll off Madison. He pulls Madison close as soon as he lands on his side next to her. “Shh, sleep now.”
They’re both jolted awake half an hour later when Tyson’s alarm goes off. Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson kisses the top of her head where she’s tucked under his chin.
“We need to get up,” Tyson whispers. Madison blinks sleepily up at him.
Tyson forces himself to disentangle himself from Madison. When she doesn’t get up after him, he grabs her by the ankles and drags her to the end of the bed, ignoring her laughter and shrieks.
Tyson follows Madison into the bathroom after she digs her makeup bag and curling iron out of her suitcase, plops himself down on the marble countertop of the sink. Madison raises her eyebrow at him as she plugs the curling iron in and turns it on. Tyson beams at her.
“I wanna watch,” Tyson says simply, still smiling innocently.
He does watch, intent on Madison as she starts to section her hair.
“What’s that for?” he asks. He hands Madison a hair clip.
She brandishes the curling iron at him. “So it’s easier to curl.”
Tyson’s quiet for a few more minutes before he slides Madison’s makeup bag closer and starts pawing through it. He pulls items out one by one and starts asking questions, mostly more of, “What’s this for?”—a makeup sponge, eyeliner, one of those jumbo eyeshadow crayons—until most of the contents of Madison’s makeup bag are strewn across the counter around Tyson.
“Are you proud of yourself?” Madison teases. Tyson snaps a compact of blush shut, surveys the damage he’s done. Madison’s momentarily distracted by Tyson’s shenanigans, and one of her fingers brushes across the hot barrel of the curling iron. “Ah, shit,” she hisses.
Tyson’s immediately serious. “Are you okay?” He grabs at Madison’s hand, bringing it close to his face to inspect her finger. Madison bites her lip to keep from laughing. Tyson frowns before carefully pulling Madison’s finger to his lips, kissing it gently. “There. All better.”
“I love you,” Madison hears herself saying. She’s not used to being able to just say it. Tyson beams at her again.
Tyson behaves himself while Madison finishes her hair and makeup, though he does giggle at the faces Madison pulls while she’s trying to apply mascara. He even helps put away all the makeup he got out. He finally hops off the counter to start getting ready himself.
Madison grabs his wrist when he reaches for the bottle of hair gel. “Nope, I’m rescinding your gel privileges.” She dies a little inside every time she sees a new photo of Tyson and his curls smothered in gel. Tyson squirms, trying to free his hand; Madison tightens her grip.
“Just a little?” Tyson pleads.
“No, I like your curls!” For emphasis, Madison cards her free hand through Tyson’s curls.
Tyson grumbles at her and tries to tamp his hair back down. “You’re gonna make it frizzy,” he complains. Madison is still tightly holding onto his wrist. “Ugh, fine, but just for tonight.”
Madison releases his wrist and kisses Tyson’s cheek as she steps past him out of the bathroom. Tyson blinks at himself in the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened.
Madison’s changed into a dress when Tyson finally makes his way out of the bathroom, too, sitting on the edge of the bed to slide on a pair of heels. She watches Tyson change with a small smile on her face. Tyson takes Madison’s hand and pulls her to her feet, twirling her once before pulling her close for a kiss.
“Let’s fucking do this,” Tyson says, and Madison has to laugh.
Dinner is pretty nice, as first dates go. Tyson picked a good restaurant—good food, nice environment, but not so fancy Madison feels out of her depth—and Madison already knows that he’s good for conversation. The good thing about falling in love before you actually start dating is that you’ve already gotten the awkwardness and discomfort out of the way already, Madison supposes.
She’s even mostly immune to the sad eyes Tyson directs at her as he pleads his case for getting dessert. Mostly. (They end up splitting a slice of tiramisu.)
The weekend passes too quickly. Madison blinks and suddenly she’s standing in the middle of Tyson’s hotel room, trying to figure out if she’s forgotten to re-pack anything.
“Stay,” Tyson begs. “A few more days, through the beginning of the series.”
“Tyson, I can’t, I have to get back to Denver for work, you know that.”
Tyson does know that, but he also hates coming back to a dark and empty hotel room every night after games. He tries to tackle Madison to the bed, but she side-steps Tyson and crosses her arms at him, disapproval in her eyes. Tyson feels a bit like a scolded child for a moment.
“What if I refuse to drive you to the airport, huh? Then you’ll have to stay.” Tyson knows it’s a weak argument, but he’s desperate here.
Madison’s glare softens. She cups Tyson’s face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Tyson, but I really have to go. I’ll see you soon, okay? We’ll figure something out.” She punctuates this with a kiss. Tyson leans into it, his hands tight on Madison’s waist.
“Soon,” Tyson repeats. “I love you,” he adds.
Madison kisses him again, and Tyson slips a hand beneath her shirt, her skin warm beneath his hand. She shudders and kisses him harder. They both startle when the alarm Madison set to make sure they leave for the airport on time goes off. Tyson tries to follow her when she pulls away to silence it.
“Time to go,” Madison says sadly.
After Tyson drops Madison off at Departures, he’s grateful that she’s not there to see him wipe away some tears.
May
Madison sees the Avs’ WAG jackets on Instagram the night they start the first round. The WIld had played the night before, an ugly loss Madison hadn’t been able to tear her attention away from. She could have had one of those jackets, sitting next to Syd and all the other girls. Instead, she’s back in her apartment in Denver, alone.
She wishes she could have stayed in Minnesota with Tyson for the first two games of the series. She gets a text from Tyson after the game that’s just a thumbs down emoji. Madison “dislikes” it out of solidarity. Tyson doesn’t call her that night. Madison has to remind herself that it’s okay, that they don’t have to talk all the time.
She watches anxiously two nights later as the Wild drag out a win, clutching a glass of wine for emotional support the whole time.
Before she can think too hard about it, Madison’s opening her laptop. She’s in the middle of searching flights to St. Louis when her phone rings. It’s Tyson, and Madison doesn’t hesitate to answer.
“I miss you,” she says, before Tyson can get a greeting out. She has perhaps had a little too much wine.
He chuckles. “It’s been less than a week, baby.” But then he adds, “I miss you, too.”
Madison shoves her laptop away and flops backwards on her bed. Last minute plane tickets are so expensive. So are playoff hockey tickets, apparently. She wonders if it would be easier to just drive to St. Louis.
“Wish I could be there,” she says next, even though she had just turned down Tyson when he’d asked her to stay.
“Yeah, me too,” Tyson says after a beat. He doesn’t offer to fly Madison out again, though Madison can tell he wants to.
She doesn’t tell him that she’s only a few clicks away from buying herself tickets and meeting him in Missouri. Though she should probably do it while she’s not sober, before she can talk herself out of it in the morning.
“Oh, good game, by the way,” Madison remembers to say.
Tyson huffs. “Are you already in bed?” Tyson asks. Madison can hear him banging around his hotel room, tinny and muffled where her phone has slid off her pillow.
“Sorta,” Madison tells him. She pulls her laptop closer again. She could fly out after work and make it to the arena without missing too much of the game, probably. She winces again at the outrageous prices for the game. There aren’t even any good seats left.
Tyson speaks again. “Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning. I just wanted to say good night to you.”
“In a minute,” she whines. She’s trying to remember her credit card number without having to get up and dig it out of her purse.
Tyson must hear her keyboard clacking. “What are you still doing on your computer?”
“Online shopping,” Madison lies. Well, half-lies. She is spending plenty of money right now. She triple-checks that her flight is booked correctly and that she purchased the ticket for the game before she finally slams her laptop shut and tosses it aside. “There, I’m done,” she tells Tyson.
“Buy anything good?” Tyson asks through a yawn.
“Hope so, we’ll see.”
On Friday, Madison rushes off the plane, rushes through baggage claim, and rushes through renting a car. She’s cutting it close on time, with less than half an hour until puck drop. She drives as carefully and quickly as she can on the unfamiliar roads to the arena, one eye on the clock the whole time. The streets and parking around Enterprise Center are a fucking nightmare, but when she finally parks and makes it to the front doors, there’s still lines of people milling about, waiting to get in, too.
Madison checks her watch. Puck dropped five minutes ago. She pushes around a group of people who are somehow already drunk and towards the front of a line. All hockey arenas are the same, in a way, but Madison is immediately overwhelmed and disoriented. The first period is half over by the time she manages to get to the upper level and settle in her seat, but at least she finally made it.
Madison takes a photo of the ice and texts it to Tyson with her usual black heart emoji. He’ll see it eventually.
Madison has to keep herself from cheering too loudly for every Wild goal, surrounded by Blues fans as she is, and she’s probably one of the only people in the arena who’s happy when the Wild manage a neat win.
She follows the throngs of people outside and back to her rental car. She has a text from Tyson waiting for her, just a string of exclamation marks. Another text comes through while she’s waiting for traffic to thin out, a request for Madison to call Tyson in all capital letters.
Tyson’s breathless when he answers Madison’s call. “What the hell are you doing in St. Louis?”
“Surprise?” Madison says weakly.
Tyson laughs. “Hell of a surprise, babe.” He must pull his phone away from his ear, because Madison can still hear him speaking, but distantly. “Hang on, I’m trying to get you the address of the hotel, you can meet me there, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Madison says. Tyson’s gone again, not really listening.
“Hey, I’ve gotta go, I’ll text you where to go, and I’ll see you soon, okay?” He hangs up without letting Madison reply, but he texts again seconds later with the name and address of the team hotel.
Madison is anxiously idling in the hotel driveway when the team bus pulls in behind her. Tyson bounds off the bus almost before it comes to a full stop, and he races over to Madison’s car door and taps on the window.
Madison rolls down the window. “And what if it hadn’t been me in the car?” she teases.
Tyson is reaching through the now-open window to try and unlock the door, his tongue sticking out the way it does when he’s focusing on the ice. “I would have apologized. A lot.” He successfully presses the unlock button and yanks the car door open. “Come here, come here,” he says.
Madison laughs and climbs out of the car. Both of her feet aren’t even out of the car before Tyson’s sweeping her up in a hug so tight she swears she can feel her ribs shift. He sets her down and immediately cups her face.
“You’re here, I can’t believe you’re here.” Tyson narrows his eyes, and he squishes Madison’s cheeks where he’s still holding her face. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming.”
Madison pries Tyson’s hands away enough to talk. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tyson’s teammates are still filtering off the bus, and they should probably move inside, too. “Can you let go of me so I can get my bag out of the trunk?” she asks.
Tyson considers this. He slides one hand down Madison’s arm until he can tangle their fingers together. He also leans into the car and deftly turns it off, holding the keys up with a grin. He nudges the door shut. “We can get your bag out of the trunk.” He proceeds to drag Madison around to the back of the car and drags her suitcase out of the back with his free hand. He stares between the suitcase in his hand and the open trunk before Madison takes pity on him and slams the trunk shut.
Madison hangs back while Tyson hands the car keys off to a valet, and then he’s dragging her towards the elevators, happily rolling Madison’s suitcase in front of him. At least the rest of the Wild players have all disappeared, sparing Madison from their stares and jeers. She tucks herself closer to Tyson in the elevator, suddenly self-conscious. Tyson kisses her temple.
Madison is suddenly exhausted as soon as they enter Tyson’s room. Tyson flips the light on as Madison kicks off her shoes. Tyson left the curtains open earlier, and Madison can see the Arch, lit up above the river, through the window. She’s too tired to give it more than a half-hearted glance on her way to face-planting into the pillows.
Tyson’s laughing when she rolls over and brushes her hair out of her face. “I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he says, jumping onto the bed next to Madison, and, really, that’s all that matters.
The Wild lose the next game at Enterprise, and Madison holds Tyson tightly for a long time in the hall outside the locker room before he has to get on a plane. They lose again at home, then yet again back in St. Louis.
Just like that, hockey season is over.
Tyson calls Madison after the last game. He sounds like he’s been crying, but he tries to be cheerful for Madison. She just wishes she could hug him, but she’s back in Denver. She knows the Avs swept the Predators already, and they’ll be facing St. Louis next. It’s not difficult to imagine how Tyson feels about that.
“Come home with me,” Tyson blurts. He’s on the phone with Madison, getting ready to leave his Minnesota hotel room behind. He survived locker cleanout and exit interviews, and now he’s ready to sleep for about a week.
Madison, in the middle of complaining at work, freezes. “I—what?” She takes another moment to process. “Aren’t you coming back to Denver first?” Madison knows his apartment sits half-abandoned, filled with things too difficult or unnecessary to move after the trade.
“Well, yeah, but like, after. You should come home with me,” Tyson repeats. He’s been dying to introduce her to his mom for months. He hopes his mom likes Madison as much as he does. He is a little worried about his sanity if Madison and Kacey get along as well as he thinks they will, though.
“I’ve never been to Canada before,” Madison says thoughtfully. She’s barely travelled abroad at all, except for one trip to the UK after she graduated high school. Her passport has been collecting dust since then.
“So you’ll come?” Tyson asks.
“Is there even anything to do in Edmonton?” Madison teases.
“There’s so much to do, like—” Tyson pauses. It’s been a while since he’s had to play tourist back home. Madison is giggling on the other end of the line. “Shut up, we’ll figure something out.”
Tyson feels like he can breathe properly for the first time in months when he steps out of the airport in Denver. He wonders if any place will ever feel like home the way Denver does.
Tyson had managed to wheedle JT into picking him up, and he even brought coffee. Tyson ignores the way it almost feels like an apology. JT has nothing to be apologizing for, but Tyson just sips his coffee.
The apartment smells stale when they walk in. Tyson’s mom had done a good job of cleaning for him, at least, and there aren’t any dirty dishes still stacked in the sink. He and JT are quiet as they walk through the apartment, opening windows. Tyson feels like he’s walking through someone else’s life. He stares for too long at his bed, freshly made and untouched for weeks.
He shakes it off and goes to find the moving boxes.
“So, this is it, huh?” JT says.
He could be talking about all the boxes they’ve spent the last few hours filling boxes and separating them into piles to be shipped off to Minnesota—Tyson finally signed a lease for an apartment there—or to be sent back home for his family to deal with. An alarming amount of Tyson’s clothes is Avalanche-branded gear, and more of it got packed away to keep than Tyson is willing to admit.
He could also be talking about the end of everything they’ve known together in Denver. Tyson’s spent years accepting the fact that hockey is a business before everything else, has gotten used to the revolving door of teammates each season. It’s been a long time since Rookie House days with Kerf. Tyson is going to walk out that apartment door, and he’s never going to be able to go back. A chapter—or book, really—in the story of his life ended for good.
Tyson sighs. “This is it.”
The apartment is stripped bare when Madison steps through the door, left unlocked by JT and Tyson.
She drops her laptop bag and kicks off her shoes, saying, “You should be more careful, anybody could just walk in here.”
Tyson drops the box he’s holding and whirls around. Madison winces as its contents rattle. There’s no time to say anything else before Tyson is bounding across the room and wrapping her in a huge hug.
“What, no hug for me?” JT asks from somewhere behind them. Tyson turns to glare at him, but Madison shoots him a smile.
“Hey, JT,” she says. She lets JT drape an arm around her in a half-hug.
“Betrayal,” Tyson says. He is ignored.
They leave most of the boxes for the moving company to deal with. Madison bundles Tyson into her car with his bags of clothes, complaining the whole time about wanting dinner. She lets Tyson hold her hand across the console as she drives him to her apartment.
It’s not the first time Tyson’s been to Madison’s apartment, but it still feels strange to be there instead of his own. They’ve spent so much time there the past few months, watching movies on the couch, doing things other than sleeping in the bed. He misses it already, all the memories they made as they fumbled their way into a relationship.
He says as much to Madison, expecting her to tease him for something so objectively dumb—to miss an apartment he lived in half of the time for like six months—but the look she gives him is almost sad.
“That’s a bit dramatic,” she says. Tyson pulls her in by the hips, letting her lean her weight on him. “But I guess we’ll just have to keep making more memories, yeah?”
Later that night, tangled up in Madison’s sheets, Tyson stares at the dark ceiling. He can feel Madison, looking rumpled and in his shirt, watching him. She nudges his calf with her toes. He doesn’t look at her, focused on keeping his eyes from welling up. Then Madison’s hand is on his cheek, turning his head towards her.
“How you doin’, bud?”
Tyson lets Madison pull him close and hold him tightly. He slides a hand under her shirt and to the bare skin of her hip, just feeling the comforting warmth of her skin.
“What if it’s never like this again?” Tyson whispers back. This—Denver and the Avalanche, friends who become family; Madison in bed next to him, loving him and wearing his clothes. Minnesota had been okay, but Tyson worked his ass off and never felt settled. Maybe it was the endless hotel life, maybe it was the team, maybe it was him. He feels like a child, begging his mom to tell him everything was going to be okay.
Madison doesn’t know how to comfort Tyson. It probably never will be like this again. Madison can’t see the future, and she can’t promise Tyson anything, either. “I don’t know, baby,” Madison admits. “I don’t know.”
Tyson doesn’t cry, but they both lay awake for a long time.
June
They fly into Edmonton together on Friday. Tyson seems nervous the whole flight and all the way through the airport. At baggage claim, as they wait for their suitcases, Madison turns on him.
“What’s up with you?” she asks. Tyson blinks at her like he forgot she was there. “You’re not seriously this worried about me meeting your family, are you?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know!” Tyson crosses his arms. He’s pretty sure his suitcase just spun past them on the carousel. He lowers his voice. “I don’t really bring girls home, I don’t know. I don’t know how this is supposed to go.”
“Oh, Tys. It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Madison tosses her hair, and Tyson manages a weak smile. “Your family is going to love me so much they’ll forget you even exist.”
“Hey!”
Tyson had lobbied hard for taking an Uber from the airport, to give Madison and himself a few last moments of peace before a week with his family, but his mom had put her foot down and insisted on picking them up. She’s already idling at the curb when they step out of the airport.
Madison calls shotgun, leaving Tyson to throw their suitcases in the trunk and slide into the backseat. His mom is in the middle of telling Madison, “Call me Laura, please!” Madison turns in her seat to grin at Tyson as his mom pulls away and starts driving out of the airport. She refrains from grilling Madison on the short drive home, something Tyson is grateful for. He zones out while Madison explains where she grew up and what she does and lets himself relax back into his seat.
Before he knows it, they’re pulling up to the house, and Kacey is sprinting out the front door to greet them. Tyson groans, but he eagerly shoves his car door open before the car is in park and lets Kacey jump on him.
Madison gets out of the car at a more leisurely—and sane—pace, and Kacey turns to wrap her in a hug as soon as she lets go of Tyson.
“I’m Kacey,” she says, pulling away and gripping Madison by the shoulders. “The better Jost sibling.”
Tyson pulls on Kacey’s ponytail. She smacks him in the chest without turning around. Tyson’s about to lunge and get Kacey in a headlock when their mom yells, “Behave,” at them from the front door.
Madison’s looking faintly overwhelmed. Tyson mouths “You okay?” at her over Kacey’s shoulder. Madison just grins and lets Kacey grab her by the hand and drag her inside. He’s pretty sure he hears Kacey telling her how much their grandparents can’t wait to meet her as they go. He shakes his head and retrieves their luggage from the trunk.
He’s missed all the introductions by the time he makes it inside. Madison sits on the couch next to Kacey, the spot on Madison’s other side left conspicuously open. Tyson ignores Kacey’s smirk and plops himself down next to Madison.
“So, how did you two meet?” Tyson’s grandpa asks.
Tyson refrains from glaring at him. Madison laughs next to him.
“He picked me up in a bar, and I had no idea he was a hockey player,” she says. Tyson had almost forgotten about that part. “We kinda just…kept seeing each other after that.”
That’s a delicate way of putting it.
“So you’re the reason Tyson ditched us over Christmas, huh?” Kacey asks next. She’s smirking again, directed straight at Tyson over Madison’s head. Tyson has not forgotten that part, struggling to lie to Kacey and his mom.
“Kacey!” Tyson and his mom both protest, but Madison just laughs again. Something about the question melts all of the tension out of her shoulders. She turns a little to lean against Tyson.
“Yeah, that was me,” Madison says. Tyson can’t see her face, but she doesn’t sound very sheepish. She tilts her chin to look up at Tyson. “I should’ve known something was up when he couldn’t go more than a few days without seeing me.”
“Hey,” Tyson protests again, weakly. She’s right, though. They really should have figured out their shit sooner, but they got to the right place eventually.
Conversation drifts away from the topic of their relationship after that. Tyson drapes an arm across Madison’s shoulders. After a while of catching up—Tyson and hockey season, or Kacey and her school year—mixed in with his family asking Madison questions to get to know her better, Tyson’s mom and grandma head to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.
Madison tries to follow and offer to help, but Tyson tightens his arm around her. He kisses her forehead, whispering, “Stay here,” into her hair. Madison stays.
They’re getting ready for bed later—banished to separate rooms, of course—when Madison notices Tyson getting nervous again.
“What’s up?” Madison asks, sliding between him and the bathroom sink. They’re pushing it, probably, spending this long in the bathroom with the door closed.
Tyson shrugs. “Worried about you and Kacey spending all night gossiping.” They’d really hit it off over dinner, which Tyson is simultaneously grateful for and horrified by. From the look Madison gives him, she’s not buying it. “It’s just…the Avs are in town tomorrow night, and I got tickets, and you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, but I want to go, and—”
Madison cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. “Tyson, I’d love to go to the game with you.”
Tyson relaxes again, and Madison moves her hand. Tyson takes the opportunity to bully her up against the sink and kiss her. Tyson’s just getting into it when Kacey bangs on the bathroom door. He’s pretty sure he accidentally bites Madison’s lip when he jerks away. Madison grumbles at him, but she ducks around him to open the door. Tyson tries not to whine about it.
Going to the game together the next night is strange. Tyson hasn’t been to Rogers Place and not been playing a game since he was a kid, probably. Madison had never really been to a hockey game before she’d met Tyson, and she’s definitely never gone to a game with Tyson.
They mostly go unnoticed, except for a handful of people who stop Tyson and ask for a picture. Madison hangs back while he politely smiles at the camera. It’s easy to fade into the crush of the crowd, and Tyson keeps a tight hold and Madison’s hand as they make their way through the concourse and to their seats.
After that, it’s just like any other hockey game. Cheering for the Avalanche is familiar, even if the way Tyson is squeezing Madison’s hand at every single scoring chance is not. She’d tease him for his nervousness, especially because the Avalanche are winning easily, except for the fact that she knows it had to be hard for him to come out tonight. To cheer for his old team, his friends, knowing that with every win they’re one step closer to something he can’t be a part of.
So she lets him hold her hand as tightly as he wants. It’s the best she can offer.
They don’t linger after the game. Tyson seems eager to escape the arena, and Madison lets him lead her back to the car. He puts on a Spotify playlist and turns the volume up loud, but he’s mostly quiet on the drive to the house, one hand on the wheel, one hand on Madison’s thigh.
Madison gets caught up talking to Laura when they get to the house, and she loses track of Tyson for a while. He’s not upstairs in his old bedroom, or even bugging Kacey in her bedroom. Madison ventures outside. Tyson has dragged a lawn chair out to the driveway, but he’s laying on his back on the cold concrete, staring up at the dim stars. The moon is just a sliver in the sky.
Madison nudges him with her foot. He wraps a hand around her ankle, squeezes once.
“You alive down there?”
Tyson makes a sound that almost passes for a laugh. Madison is pretty sure his eyes are wet, shiny in the dark. Madison lays down next to him. The concrete is hard against her shoulder blades, and it feels damp through her thin T-shirt.
“This fucking sucks,” Tyson says. It’s too loud for how late it is, and his voice echoes a little around the quiet street. He rubs a hand angrily across his face. “I want to be out there, playing for the Cup, not fucking sitting in the arena watching them. I guess I should be happy for them because they’re my friends, you know? But I kinda want to hate them, too.” He’s quiet for a moment. He reaches for Madison’s hand, brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to her palm, before settling their clasped hands on his chest. “I might not have asked for a trade if I had known it would be this shitty,” he admits.
“It’s okay to be mad, Tyson,” Madison says gently.
“It’s not—I don’t know if I’m mad. I wish I could be.”
“It’s okay to be sad, too,” she says.
“Yeah,” Tyson says, voice thick.
They’re both quiet for so long, Madison’s half-certain Tyson’s fallen asleep, if not for his occasional sniffle. He sits up after a while, still holding Madison’s hand. Even in the dark, Madison can see him yawn.
“Ready for bed?” Madison asks.
Tyson nods. “D’you think I can sneak you into my bed?”
He pulls Madison to her feet as she lets out a startled laugh. Tyson kisses her quiet. “I’m willing to get in trouble if you are.”
The house is dark when they slip back inside. They giggle their way through brushing their teeth, close together at the bathroom sink, elbows bumping. Tyson shushes her loudly as they tiptoe carefully down the hall. Madison’s pretty sure he’s being louder than her, but whatever.
Madison wakes to an empty bed and late morning sunlight. She can hear Tyson’s voice drifting up the stairs. That boy truly does not know how to be quiet. Madison has an Instagram notification when she swipes her phone off the bedside table: josty17 has tagged you in a post. Madison frowns and unlocks her phone, wondering what unflattering photo of her Tyson took. Instead, it’s a photo Kacey or Laura must have taken the morning before. Madison’s laying on top of Tyson on the couch, Tyson visibly complaining that he’s being squished, despite the fact that he had pulled Madison on top of him. He captioned it with a black heart emoji.
Madison makes her way downstairs. Tyson sits at the kitchen table, arguing with Kacey over something stupid. He reaches a hand out for Madison without stopping whatever he’s ranting about. There’s a fresh mug of coffee in his hand, already doctored the way Madison likes it. Tyson uses his now-free hand to loop around Madison’s waist and tug her onto his lap. She hooks her arms around Tyson’s neck and sips her coffee, content to listen to this argument, even though she’s still not sure what they’re arguing about. She thinks she hears something about which fruit would make the best weapon.
It might not be easy, but Madison thinks they’ll be just fine.
#cait writes things#tyson jost fic#tyson jost imagine#colorado avalanche fic#minnesota wild fic#buffalo sabres fic#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#hockey fic#hockey fanfiction#hockey imagine#tyson jost fanfiction
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Mimicry
Summary: You, Matt, Foggy, and Karen play Description Charades. The evening gets competitive, especially when you have to act out a certain someone of Hell’s Kitchen. Read the story on AO3 here.
Set sometime in S2 so Karen’s the only one out of the loop about Matt.
Warnings: Some profanity, a little suggestive dom/sub conversation at the end.
A/N: Fun fact!! So I’m starting an internship in a couple weeks, and I just realized that the company is literally in Hell’s Kitchen. I’ll be working remotely so unfortunately I won’t be able to go there, but I thought it was highly amusing that of all the places in the world to have landed a job, it’s in Matt’s city. I mean seriously — what are the odds of that??
Also - just learning how tumblr works but submit requests if you want!! I’m fairly sure I set it up so that people can submit things, and I need to know if it’s working lol
Description Charades, Foggy called it. According to him, he and Matt had first played it during one very drunken night after their first year final exams back at Columbia.
“It’s an art,” Foggy insisted. “It’s all about the control of vocabulary. Anyone can be a good actor, but it takes delicate skill and thoughtful articulation to actually win. And I should know because I have the credentials.”
“Credentials?” you asked.
“Matt and I have crushed every single team we’ve ever played,” he said proudly. “We’re a powerhouse.”
Matt was smiling widely. He wore a simple gray tee shirt and sweats, and was stretched out on his armchair. “Foggy, we’ve only played Description Charades twice.”
“Yeah. And might I remind you that we won both times by quite a bit?”
“Wait,” Karen said. “Explain it again. So there’s two teams—”
“Right. So, for example, Matt and I are a team. He goes around the corner and only I can see him doing his charade thing. He acts it out, and I describe it to you. If you two can guess it within a minute, Matt and I get a point. Then we switch.”
“What’s stopping you two from acting and describing poorly so we can’t guess it?”
“Honor system,” Foggy declared.
“Alright, then.” You stood up. “Karen, you think it’s time we desecrate their perfect record?”
“I’m already searching for charade prompts online,” she said. “Oh — and I just got a notification that the pizza’s here. I’ll go pick it up.” She left the room, slipping her shoes on and exiting the apartment. You turned to Matt, who was sitting there with a knowing look. Little shit.
“You know exactly what issue I’m seeing here,” you said, giving him an accusatory stare.
“What?” he said mildly. “I see nothing. Literally nothing.”
“Foggy!” You rounded on Foggy, who shared the sheepish expression. “When it’s you and Matt’s turn to guess, you’ve got an advantage! If I’m acting something out around the corner, Matt will just recreate it in his world-on-fire or whatever—”
“In our defense, the last time we played this, I didn’t know he had x-ray vision,” Foggy said, his hands in the air.
“Number one,” Matt cut in, “I don’t have x-ray vision. And number two, I won’t focus on your movements. Only Karen’s description of what you’re doing.” He crossed his heart. “You have my word.”
“I don’t trust you for one second, Murdock. You said that I had your word last week that you wouldn’t eat the rest of my pretzels, and lo and behold, the next day I found an empty bag with nothing but sea salt at the bottom.”
“That was a moment of weakness. I’ll buy you more pretzels.”
“If I feel like you’re guessing too accurately for even one second, then I’m going to—”
“Got the pizza,” Karen announced, coming back in. “So who’s going first?”
Five minutes later, you sat on the couch, alertly chewing your pizza as Matt got up from the couch and went down the hall where you and Karen couldn’t see him. There was a soft sound as the door opened and closed while he stepped out of the apartment to have the voice reader on his phone read the generated prompt to him.
He reentered ten seconds later. “Considering the last time I saw this was when I was a kid, I don’t think this is going to go too well.”
Foggy shushed him. “You’re giving them hints, Murdock!”
“Keep talking, Matt,” you said from your seat on the couch. “Where did you see it as a kid? At an amusement park? In school? On an airplane?”
“Nope. Keep your mouth shut, Matt. Ignore your girlfriend. She’s a Siren, trying to lure you in so that we lose.”
“Okay. Fine,” Matt said. You could hear soft rustling in the hallway, then a thud. “Um. Something like this, I guess?”
“Matt, the whole point is to do it non-verbally,” Karen said, laughing as she took a bite of pizza.
“He’s sort of... running in place?” Foggy said. “Like, not a panicked I’m-running-for-my-life run. More like a bouncy jaunt.”
You snorted. “Matt Murdock is doing a bouncy jaunt? You should record this, Foggy. I don’t think I’ll ever feel at peace if I don’t get to be a witness of that.”
“Okay. Now he’s swatting at something. Like he’s trying to kill bugs? Stop shaking your head, Matt, you’re not allowed to do that. Wait. Maybe not swatting at bugs. Spanking something?”
Matt let out a frustrated groan. “Foggy, I don’t know what I’m—”
“Suck it up. We have a winning streak to preserve here,” Foggy said lightly. “So, assuming that you’re spanking something—”
“I’m not spanking anything!” Matt’s indignant voice carried down the hall.
“I’m flipping the hourglass for another minute,” Karen said. “You two have spent half of the time talking. We need more descriptions, Foggy.”
“Right. Okay. He’s jumping now, punching the air. Triumphantly? Happily? I mean, he’s sort of smiling, I guess, if that’s what smiling is on Planet Matt.”
“A sports fan?” you suggested. “Or an athlete? I need more specifics, Foggy. Is it spanking or swatting?”
“Based on the death glare I’m receiving right now, I’d say it’s neither. Chucking something, then. Jumping again with one fist in the air. And either throwing a temper tantrum or stomping on something to kill it. Basically he’s jogging — again with the cheerful sort of flare to it, I guess? — jumping with one knee in the air, then stomping.”
“Okay.” Your mind raced. “Basketball player? Layups are done with one knee in the air, right?”
“A singer,” Karen said. “Or a rock star. Some sort of celebrity.”
“Wrong, wrong, and wrong. And time’s up,” Foggy said, gleefully whirling around to make a note of their score on the paper you’d taped to the wall. “Nelson and Murdock, one.”
Matt emerged from the hallway, his cheeks slightly red. “It was Mario,” he said. “From what I remember, he does a goofy jump with a knee and fist in the air, right? And stomps on the turtles or whatever?”
“Fair enough. Good memory,” you said, standing up to take his place and squeezing his arm. “I should’ve thought of that.”
A total of five rounds passed, with you and Matt alternating as actors and Karen and Foggy narrating each time (since Matt had no way to describe Foggy), when you were finally tied for the final point.
“Sudden death?” Karen suggested. “If you guys guess this one, then you win. If not, we win. Losers have to take everyone out for dinner tomorrow night.”
“It’s on,” Matt said, grinning, and you shot him a look that he couldn’t have missed. Feel the sharp motion of my head, Murdock, and know that I will have my revenge if you cheat. Whether or not he was listening to the motions of your acting, or just listening to Karen’s description as he’d promised he would was unknown, but so far the game had been evenly matched. You picked up your phone and refreshed the generator.
The name “Daredevil” flashed back at you. Immediately your heart rate surged and you had to fight to stay cool, seeing Matt’s head immediately swivel towards you.
“It’s a tricky one,” you complained, to cover the sudden increase in your heart rate. “I don’t know how to do this.” Which was true enough.
“You’ve got this.” Karen followed you to the hallway. “Come on, we need this win.”
How on earth were you supposed to act out Daredevil? From what Karen knew, Daredevil had no affiliations with Matt, so merely acting out blindness was out of the question. Attempting to mimic his fighting techniques would have to do. Hesitantly, you threw a couple of punches into the air.
“She’s punching something,” Karen reported. “Kind of fast, like repetitive motions.”
“Like Dash from the Incredibles?”
“Well, not that fast. Okay, now she’s kicking at something.”
“A mercenary. Or soldier,” Matt said, his voice suspiciously amused, and you felt certain that he was constructing an image of your stupid movements in his world on fire. No doubt you looked like an idiot, you thought, as you jumped up and did a pathetic kick into the air.
“She jumped,” Karen said. “And kind of stuck her leg out like she was trying to not fall, maybe? I’m not sure.”
You repeated the motion, this time getting your leg a bit higher in the air.
“Okay, jumping and kicking,” Karen amended. “And now punching again. And throwing something.”
“Captain America!” Foggy said suddenly. “Iron Man, Black Widow, Hulk—”
You bit your lip and approached the wall of the hallway, pretending to push off of it as though using it like a gymnasium.
“I think she’s attacking the wall,” Karen said. “She’s... running into it? No, now she’s climbing the wall.”
“Spider-Man!” Foggy continued, but the silence from Matt was making you even more wary now.
“Fifteen more seconds,” Karen warned. “Okay, now she’s putting her hands over her head, like ears? Rabbit ears, maybe? Pointy ears. And ten seconds left.”
“Come on, Matt!” Foggy demanded. “I don’t know! Falcon, Black Panther — shit, I’m blanking, who are the other Avengers?
“Eight. Seven.”
“Scarlet Witch, Dr. Strange! Damn it — um, Ant Man!”
“Six. Five. She’s still just... kicking and punching and stuff,” Karen said. “Four.”
“Matt, help me out here!”
“Three.”
Foggy was shouting at this point. “Hawkeye!”
“Two.”
“Maybe Daredevil?” Matt suggested at the last second, his tone far too nonchalant, so that even from in the hallway you could hear the smirk on his face.
You stormed out from behind the hallway, hands on your hips. “Seriously? You waited until the last second?”
“I didn’t wait until the last second,” he said innocently. “It just came to me, right at the end.”
Karen was grinning. “That’s a good one. I love that someone put Daredevil into the generator; he deserves so much more attention.”
“I don’t know,” you said, staring resolutely at Matt. “The new red suit is a bit cocky, isn’t it? Those horns and everything are just a cry for attention. He seems like he’s probably an arrogant guy.”
Foggy shot you and Matt a look. “I guess I should’ve thought of that with the jumping around on the wall. Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat to change the subject, “what do we want them to buy us, Matt? Thai? Italian? Or maybe we could go to that new steakhouse over on 45th.”
“We should’ve won that game,” you grumbled. “Last second answers should be discounted.”
“Ah, but the Nelson-Murdock power couple is just too strong to take on,” Foggy said. “Oh! We could go to that hibachi place.”
Matt’s arm snaked around your waist. “Tomorrow night at 8?”
“Yeah, whatever,” you said, allowing Matt to draw you in closely to him. “Tomorrow we’re going to play Scrabble, though. And I intend to dominate.”
Matt only responded once Karen and Foggy instantly began chatting about the hibachi restaurant, his whisper a soft tickle in your ear. “Sweetheart, I’ll show you tonight what it means to dominate.”
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Mermaids Part 3
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f! Reader
Rating: Explicit 19+
Content: Explicit Smut, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks), fluff, brief discussion of drug use
Summary: After a bad night at work, you and Frankie get closer than you’ve ever been…
A/N: Thank you all SO. MUCH. on your kind words and your patience as I got this new chapter out. I’m so excited for you guys to read and thank you as always to @heythere-mel for being my beta reader.
Part 1 | Part 2
Aww Frankie, I love when you send me flight pics!! You know what that cloud reminds me of?
Condensation?
Very funny, dork. It looks exactly like that puddle Benny busted ass in when we left the bar the other night.
LOL. Don’t mention that around him, he’s still uncomfortable that happened in front of you. Thinks it ruined his chances.
Trust me when I say I’m 100% not interested in Benny.
More interested in guys that slip on banana peels instead?
Oh hush, are you still coming over for dinner tonight?
That’s how it’s been for the past few weeks. You text Frankie all day, every day, see him for dinner, after work or school, to play with Lili or to go out to the bar with your friends. You’d gotten closer since what Taylor has named “Poolgate”, but the two of you have never spoken of it.
Instead, the touches between you two become more prolonged, your fingers rubbing the broadness of his back as you occasionally feel his lips brush near your neck. It’s an intimacy that drives you crazy, but you also don’t want to make Frankie uncomfortable. The closeness you two were starting to have was something you’d never experienced before.
You also didn’t want to break the dynamic of the group that was developing between you, Frankie, Will, Benny, Santi and Taylor. In the few weeks that they had started dating, you saw your friend that’s normally a cool, cavalier heartbreaker had turned into someone constantly texting and talking about Santiago. He was definitely hot and charming, but whenever you asked her what he was doing to make her act like this, she would just hang her head low and giggle like a schoolgirl.
“I don’t know how to describe it. There’s something about him, every time I’m with him I feel like I’m in a movie from the forties . You’ll see when Frankie finally asks you out.”
“Taylor, stop.” You whined. “Frankie and I–”
“Are just friends. I’ve heard it, Santi’s heard it, I’m pretty sure the neighbor across the street has heard it.” Taylor retorted.
“He’s working on himself. He’s got this great job, and NA, and Lili and I have graduation in a few months so I should really focus on that…”
“You’re fully capable of having fun and working on yourself at the same time.” Taylor squeezed your shoulders. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve felt like you need to fit your life into a little box but you never know what could happen.”
You stubbornly rolled your eyes as she walked away, but you had an inkling she wasn’t wrong. Your feelings for Frankie had risen to the surface after the pool incident and as much as you loved the dynamic you had now, would it really change if you took that chance?
—-------------------------
“My kid lost a tooth at school the other day. The teacher gave it to her in a little baggy and I let her put it in her pocket because she begged to carry it herself.
We went out to the playground and I let her swing for a little bit before we went home. So when we get home I ask her to give me her tooth so we can leave it out for the tooth fairy. She’s looking through her pockets and her backpack and then she looks at me and says ‘Daddy, I lost it!” So while I’m scrambling to try to figure out what the hell to do now, she just shrugs her shoulders and says “oh well, everyone makes mistakes and if the tooth fairy can’t see that I don’t want her money, I’ll get my own.”
I say that long winded story to say that I wish I had as much forgiveness and grace for myself as my four year old does. Hell, I’ve gone on missions with hundreds of men and the army and she’s still the strongest person I’ve ever known.
She never gets embarrassed. I’m embarrassed every day but I constantly try to hide it. I was so embarrassed on the day that I first met her, when she was born. I had a gram in my back pocket. I’m fighting every day to be everything that person wasn’t. Maybe with the fear my daughter doesn’t have I’ll get there.
I have a friend that told me something recently. “You’re not a hypocrite for trying to be better.” Any time I feel like I’m only my past failures I think of that. And I hope her words give you strength too.”
Light applause scattered through the room and Frankie made his way back to his chair. If he could’ve seen himself from two years ago, he would’ve been shocked he’d said more than two words and an agreeable grunt at Narcotics Anonymous. But the truth is, this additional step has really helped. He’s been able bond with some of the members of the community and hear their stories.
More than ever recently, he kept thinking of your words. You were so accepting towards him and gave him so much grace. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve it or you.
As he walked out of the door after the meeting was over, his thoughts lingering on your bright laugh and beautiful smile he heard a familiar voice.
“Hey man.” It was the asshole that decided to harass you at the Fall Festival. He was leaned up against the wall with a cigarette between his teeth, acting as if he and Frankie were old friends.
“Don’t worry man, I’m not gonna kick your ass. Wanna smoke?” He asked.
Frankie shook his head as he dug in his pockets for his keys.
“That was a great little speech you put out there today. My kid’s caught on to the tooth fairy already so I’m fucked.”
Frankie grunted in acknowledgement, not wanting to have a conversation.
“Last time I saw you, you kicked me out of that festival. So that chick in the tank—is she your girl or something?” He asked.
“She’s my friend.” Finally Frankie found his keys, he needed to get the fuck out of there.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Excuse me?” Frankie turned around, he knew he shouldn’t encourage this guy’s bullshit but he couldn’t resist.
“I ain’t ever had a friend look at me the way she looked at you when you walked up. Take it in stride, buddy. Girls like that don’t usually go for scumbags like us.” He laughed between drags.
“Take it easy, man.” Frankie walked towards his truck.
“I’m just saying, I could never keep a woman that good. She always finds something better or less troubled. Be careful, you know how women are.”
Frankie didn’t even bother to acknowledge his last statement. He got into his truck and sat at the wheel for a moment, sighing in exhaustion. He couldn’t believe he was actually taking this man’s words for thought.
It was no secret how incredible you were. Hard working, resilient, beautiful. Hell, even Benny saw it and as much as it drove him crazy to watch him flirt with you, he couldn’t blame him. He just wished he had the balls to do it himself. He was so close to kissing you the night the two of you went swimming and then Santi showed up.
Santi, of course, brushed the entire thing off. “Stop being such a chicken shit, Fish.” He’d say. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, just make your move already.”
But how could he make his move when he knew you deserved better? He’d heard about all of your future plans and he didn’t want to drag you down with him and his problems. Sure, you adored Lili but did you want to be a potential stepmom?
Fuck. Frankie groaned to himself. He wished he could just forget these feelings but he knew he’d be lying to himself. And if he was honest with himself, he also didn’t feel sorry for the way he felt at all.
He drove home to an empty house since Liliana was with her mom for the weekend. The Millers were prepping for their barbeque the next day and Santi and Taylor were on a date. He missed you but he knew you were working that night and you obviously couldn’t have your phone in the tank. Usually, you’d text afterwards with some funny anecdote about the day and he couldn’t wait.
He looked through his streaming service on TV to see what to watch while he ordered a pizza for himself. Splash came on screen. The 80’s movie about Tom Hanks falling in love with Daryl Hannah’s mermaid Madison.
Christ, even when he tries not to think about you, there you are. Frankie orders his pizza and settles down into the couch to watch the movie while he waits until he gets a call. Initially annoyed, he checks the caller ID.
It’s you.
“Hey,” Frankie answers. “Aren’t you at work?”
“I left early. I had to leave early. Are you home?” You ask him, sounding somewhat frazzled.
“Yeah, I just ordered a pizza and was about to put a movie on.”
“Okay, I’m coming over. I’ve just had the worst day, Frankie.” He hears your voice wavering on the phone and a fire in his stomach makes him want to know who made you feel like this.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. Come over.” Frankie said to you softly.
—---------------------
You showed up to Frankie’s house with your hair still damp and wet patches on your clothes from them not properly drying. Your makeup was still on, although slightly smudged due to crying. The first thing he did was engulf you in a hug. His broad arms and smell were exactly what you needed.
“Pizza is on its way. I called them back so I could add your favorite toppings.” Frankie said into your shoulder.
He led you over to the couch so you could tell him what happened.
“So, I go in today and at the beginning of the shift everything is totally fine. The kids are sweet, there’s nobody too rowdy. But then a family of ten showed up to the tank.Two parents. Eight children.” You started.
“Yikes,” Frankie engages.
“So of course in that group of ten, you have several of the kids tapping the glass to make me do something like I’m a circus animal and then one kid manages to get onto that little grotto area near the tank to toss popcorn into the water. So while my handlers are trying to tell the parents to manage their kids one of the other kids almost falls into the tank and then guess what? He VOMITS in the tank Frankie. I ran out of there before he’d even stopped and security had finally gotten ahold of them.”
“I told him I was leaving, and he said ‘okay, we’ll see if you still have a job after this’. And I’m just so tired of feeling like I’m at my wit’s end at that job. I took it because I’m great at it and I needed something to tide me off during grad school but there’s only so much I can take, y’know? It makes me feel like what the hell am I even doing? And I feel so stupid for even being upset that I might lose this shitty job.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Frankie pulls you into his shoulder, letting you cry on him. “You did the right thing. Especially if your boss wasn’t going to handle the situation.”
“Thank you.” You sniffled. “I just want this all to mean something, y’know? I don’t want to work at this job forever and feel like all my goals are in vain.”
“They aren’t, baby.” Frankie rubbed the nape of your neck, his hands feeling calloused and strong. “This is all temporary. You’re brilliant, you’re an incredibly hard worker and that park doesn’t deserve you at 20%, let alone 100.”
“What if they fire me?” You said, still muffled into his scent and his arms.
“Then to hell with them. We find you a new job. If push comes to shove you could be Lili’s babysitter. She’d pay me to hang out with you all day.”
You giggled and looked up at him as he tenderly stroked your cheek. His dark brown eyes completely hypnotizing you. Nothing ever felt awkward with Frankie, and now as the both of you share this long gaze it just feels natural.
“It’ll be okay. I’m here, we can get through it together no matter what happens.” Frankie whispers to you.
Over the past few weeks you’ve kept trying to convince yourself this is just a crush that can go away at the drop of a hat. Some men and women are just attracted to each other and it’s natural. But you felt in your heart you couldn’t drop your feelings towards him if you tried your hardest.
And maybe this was finally the time to tell him that.
“Frankie, I—“
The doorbell rang in the middle of your question.
“Once sec, the pizza’s here.” He let you go and everything suddenly felt colder without him around you. But maybe it just wasn’t the time. Maybe it was just the hightened emotions.
Frankie set the pizza up, bringing over your plates and putting on Splash. You immediately knew what it was, letting out a giggle that made Frankie’s heart wrench.
“I haven’t seen this movie since I was a kid.”
“It’s a classic. Lili loves it, of course.” Frankie takes a bite out of his pizza.
“Lili loves all mermaids.” You giggle.
“Not all of them, just you.” Frankie winks and you feel like you could sink into the couch from melting.
You settle in with your pizza, watching the film and discussing the performances.
“God, Daryl Hannah is so stunning.” You say, chewing your pizza.
“She had to have been one of my favorite celebrity crushes when I was a kid.” Frankie nodded.
“So you’re just totally drawn to mermaids, then?” You grinned.
“Well, you and Madison are different. First of all you wear way more clothes than she does. And you’ve got the whole eye makeup thing going on.” Frankie gestures to your face. “I don’t know how you do it, if anything pokes my eye, I start freaking out.”
“Hmm, I think you could pull off the look.” You joked, angling your fingers to frame his face.
“I’d like to see you try.” Frankie raised his eyebrow and you were up for the challenge.
“Alright, then. Let’s do it.” You said, starting to move.
“So the first thing you’re going to do is your eyes. It’s all about the alluring eyes. You want to bring people over.” You kneel over to the other side of the couch, over Frankie, and almost fall. You grab your eye makeup as he sets his fingers on your waist to help keep you stable. You settle on top of Frankie, straddling his legs with your mascara in hand.
“You have great eyelashes, all boys do.” You lean towards him as he doesn’t leave your gaze, your eyes look towards his plush lips. His hands haven’t left your waist.
You lean down towards his face and are close to brushing a small layer of mascara across his eye.
“You don’t need half of this stuff.” Frankie whispered.
“What do you mean?” You loved his dimple.
“It isn’t the makeup or the fancy fin that draws people towards you…it’s you. It’s always been you.”
You heard the mascara clatter on the floor as your lips crashed into his. You’d imagined if you ever got to kiss Frankie that it would be a gentle, soft kiss like in the movies but this kiss was powered by pure adrenaline and want. You felt Frankie’s tongue at your lips as it entered your mouth, his grip tightening on your waist.
You moved his hat so you could run your fingers through his curls. He groaned into your mouth and after a few moments the two of you finally went up for air, your forehead touching his.
“Bedroom?” Frankie asked, you nodded fervently as he scooped you up from the couch by your backside, your lips planting deep kisses on his neck as he made his way to his room. You felt your back hit the wall as Frankie still had you wrapped tightly around his legs. You peeled your shirt off, exposing your bra as you grabbed onto him, more needy than ever for him to be as close to you as possible.
He kisses at your neck, down to your breasts as he uses one hand to unhook your bra. He tosses the bra across the room and groans as he takes his free hand to grab one and put one of your nipples in his mouth.
You want to feel him, all of him but you can’t in that position. “Frankie, I need you. Take me to bed.”
He quickly answers your call, bringing you over to his bed and tossing you on your back. You admire as he strips his clothes off, exposing his broad chest and his stomach with a slight pouch. His curls are wild and he’s flushed.
While he unbuttons his pants, you do the same, stripping and sliding them off of you while you’re on the bed, only leaving you in a cotton thong. When Frankie removes his pants he exposes his boxers with an already stiff bulge in between his legs. He tugs at it before he leans down into you, surrounding you on the bed.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He whispers as you shiver at his touch. His hands are everywhere on you, exploring territory that was once forbidden. He grabs the curve of your ass to grind himself into you and you groan into his mouth. You can feel the outline of his hard, thick cock as he grinds into you with a circular motion.
You feel him between your folds and you move your fingers down to relieve yourself of the ache. Frankie looks down to see you touching yourself and removes your fingers, chuckling to himself.
“Baby, that's my job.” He grins, you groan as his thick fingers meet your clit, pressing into it into a circular rhythm. His circular strokes become broader until his fingers are at the outline of you.
He enters you slowly, filling you with his two long, thick fingers as you start to whine and groan against him.His pace quickened
“Yeah, baby, you like this? You like me getting you ready for this cock?” Frankie whispered.
“Yes, Frankie, please.” You moaned through the sound of him shallowly entering and exiting you, your wetness filling the room.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you, just like this.” He smashed his lips into yours, quickening his pace as you felt yourself building and building. You feel yourself tightening around his fingers.
“Fuck yes, baby, you’re so wet.” Frankie groaned.
You moaned into his mouth, his fingers meeting that spot that yours couldn’t quite reach as you climaxed, breathing back down to Earth in a state of pure bliss.
You grabbed at his cock, feeling the tip wet with pre-cum. You’d imagined how he’d be, but you never imagined him to be so huge. Long strokes down him could barely cover all his length and his fingers barely wrapped around his girth.
“I have an IUD and I’m clean.” You whispered.
“I’m clean, too. Are you ready, baby?”You felt him line up against you, feeling the pressure of his tip rubbing against your folds.
Frankie slowly entered you. You felt him fit into you, stretching you. Nobody had ever made you feel so full, and when he finally was at a point where he was all the way in, he kept still. Both of you breathing heavily as he planted soft kisses across your face and throat.
“I’m sorry, I’ll move in a second, you’re just so tight.” He laughed, you giggled into his shoulder, his hand finding your hair to stroke it and soothe you as he began to move. It was so much, all around you and in you.
“Oh fuck, Frankie.” Your breath hitched with every move he made. After starting out slow he found a rhythm for the two of you as you grabbed onto anything that you could. His strong shoulders, his broad back. You wrapped your legs around his, sinking him deeper into you as he moved faster.
You chanted words of encouragement to him. Fuck me harder. Right there. He kept hitting the same spongy spot his fingers were before and you feel yourself falling apart under him with each hard thrust.
When you come back down from your peak, you feel Frankie tremble above you as his thrusts become more staggered. He grabs your face to drive his lips against your as he fills you up, the two of you still and panting once he’s done.
The two of you laid there for a few moments, his head buried in your neck as you fingered through his brown curls. You smelled the lightly scented shampoo in his hair and marveled at how right this all felt. As if he could read your mind, Frankie got up to look at you, stroking your face, smirking and exposing his dimple.
He pulls out of you, rolling onto his side as he pulls you in with him. He nestles into your neck and soon, the two of you fall into a deep sleep.
—------------
You woke up the next morning, the sunlight on your face as you slowly remembered the events from the previous night out of your sleep induced confusion. You feel Frankie’s broad arms surround you and you turn to look at him.
He was so gorgeous. Wild curls with some clinging to his neck. His lips swollen, ready for you to press against them again. You admired the gray flecks that were peppered through his patchy beard, his strong nose.
You couldn’t believe it had actually happened, he was yours. You rolled back over with a brief sense of panic. Was he really yours? Was last night a spur-of-the-moment occurrence because your emotions were high? You knew you’d have to talk about it at some point, but for now you just wanted to embrace being in bed with him.
“Good morning.” Frankie planted kisses across your neck, quickly waking up after you. “How’d you sleep?”
“Amazing.” You answered truthfully. He peppered kisses down your neck and nibbled at your ear. You felt him press up against you.
“It’s not too forward of me to ask for a round two, is it?” He whispered gruffly in your ear. You pressed your ass into him, finding his lips to greet your tongue with his.
Frankie heard his cellphone buzz.
“They can leave a voicemail.” He flipped you on top of him as you kissed him through a fit of giggles.
It buzzed again and almost immediately you heard a sharp knock on his front door.
“Fish!! Rise and shine.” Santi’s voice boomed through the door.
“Hi Frankie!” Taylor chimed in.
Your eyes widened.
“Shit. I forgot I told Pope and Taylor I’d go with them to get food for Benny and Ironhead’s barbeque.”
He knocked again.
“You forgot?” You hissed, jumping off of him to quickly put on your clothes.
“I was a little distracted.” He took a moment to admire your naked figure.
“Knock knock, Francisco!” Santi yelled.
Frankie’s bedroom was a flurry of clothes as Santi knocked again.
“Hold your damn horses, Pope!!!” Frankie yelled.
“Too late, we’re coming in.” Frankie cursed the day he decided to give his best friend a spare key. He ran out of the bedroom, clothes on but slightly askew.
“Have you heard from the little mermaid this morning? We keep trying her cell.” Santi asked, his hand around Taylor’s waist.
“Yeah, Frankie. Have you heard from her she didn’t come home last–”
“Oh–my–”
Taylor and Santiago freeze as they catch you in your clothes, trying to stealthily sneak away from Frankie’s bedroom. The silence in the room could make you hear a pin drop. Frankie has his arms protectively around your shoulders and after a few beats, Santiago starts to stifle out a laugh.
“Nope!” Frankie growls. “Not. A. Word. We’re getting dressed.”
“So, where’d you stay, Lili’s room?” Santi grinned, Taylor playfully tapped him as she gave you an over excited wink and thumbs up.
“Later.” You had mouthed to her, scurrying back into the bathroom to get dressed.
After getting dressed, Taylor and Santiago surprisingly kept to their word and didn’t mention the incident at all when you had gone out for breakfast or ran errands.
During errands though, you noticed that Frankie had become more confident in touching you. Gone were the shy looks away, he held your hand walking into the grocery store and casually had his arm around yours at breakfast.
When it was time to go to the Millers’ for the day, you instinctively didn’t display PDA in front of the brothers. Not because they didn’t know the way both of you felt about each other, but the fact that everything had just happened and the whole friend group knowing was alot to take in. You and Frankie still had so much to discuss.
At one point, though, Taylor had stolen you away into a corner to discuss.
“Spill. Now.” Taylor was almost bouncing on her heels from excitement.
You told her the details between the night you had and how surprised you were
Taylor spun you around, nearly toppling over.
“See? I told you!! You guys are perfect for each other!!”
“Not so fast, Tay. It literally just happened last night. We haven’t really had a chance to talk about it.” You said.
“Were you guys going to before Santi and I showed up?” She asked.
“Not exactly…we were…occupied.” You blushed, your best friend giving an exaggerated gasp.
Taylor squealed again. “This is perfect. You’re practically glowing and I know he’s happy. You guys are going to be so happy together!!”
You were happy. But it had just happened and this wasn’t the way you wanted everyone to find out.
The rest of the day at the Millers’ barbecue was incredibly fun. Drinks, games and good company with your group of friends that you had just met but felt like you’d known a lifetime.
At the end of the day, everyone went their separate ways as Frankie offered to drive you back to your car at his place.
“Hi.” Frankie took your hand in his truck as he began to drive.
“Hi.” You bashfully smiled back at him. You were incredibly comfortable around Frankie but the idea of you and him and what you did that previous night was still a marvel to you. You just couldn’t believe he reciprocated those feelings.
“So. What do we do now, cariño?” Frankie asked you, his thumb circling your palm.
“Well since everyone knows, maybe we could just take some time to figure this out? Give each other some space and time?” You asked. Maybe it isn’t exactly what you want but maybe it’s the practical thing to do.
“Oh, yeah. Sure. What’s the rush, right?” Frankie asked, removing his hand from yours only to card it through his hair.
The two of you wordlessly drove back to Frankie’s house, your car still in his driveway. As he walked you to your car, he leaned you against it. He cupped his hands on your face and planted a soft kiss onto your lips.
“I can’t even begin to describe how amazing last night was.” Frankie’s hands were on your shoulders, big and surrounding you.
“I think I might know” You grinned up at him.
The soft kisses became bigger, his lips pressing harder onto yours.
“It doesn’t have to end now, does it?” You looked into his eyes and asked him. He stared at you intensely for one, long moment. His hands stroking your cheeks and your hair and then meeting your forehead. God, he could never get tired of kissing you.
Without hesitation, he took your hand and brought you back into the house.
#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales smut#triple frontier#triple frontier smut#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x y/n#Pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfic
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Fem! Reader x Zoro NSFW! Zoro’s birthday is coming, and S/O planned his gift: a 1v1 duel at a secluded island. They fought from dawn to late dusk with Zoro winning. S/O tried her best, but the most she got was Zoro putting on his bandana. Zoro enjoys his gift, though wants his next “gift” from S/O. Blood, corruption, and fight link, maybe a bit of BDSM? Oh, and could you make S/O as sweet as Tanjiro? Maybe her own fighting style be like Water Breathing or Sun Breathing?
i love the idea of his s/o fighting him for his birthday lol he’s a glutton for pain, that one. anyway, i’m not great with fight scenes but i like it, so i hope you do too ♡꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱
2.4k words, fem reader, nsfw - slight blood kink, a sprinkle of bdsm, etc. etc. etc.; established relationship, s/o has water breathing-like fighting style; zoro is a menace to society and i love that for him.
when you ask him, he’ll tell you—repeatedly—that he doesn’t want anything extravagant; gifts aren’t important, and he doesn’t really care about celebrating his birthday. especially when the others stumble around clumsily, trying to plan a party without letting him in on it. you tease him about it, even suggest loudly that they host a big party, much to his chagrin. you aren’t actually serious, though, knowing just how much he doesn’t care for that kind of attention. still, you can’t help yourself. he makes it very, very easy.
after weeks of planning, you manage to convince him to come out with you. he thinks it's strange that you’re the only one going to explore this nameless island with him, but he likes your company and would rather be here with you than with anyone else. you lead him further inland, dodging his questions as his suspicions over your actions grow more and more. when you finally reach a particular clearing, you turn to him, a mischievous grin stretching on your face. he eyes you carefully, still curious about why you insist on bringing a sword with you, but wanting you to reveal things on your own terms.
he isn’t in any sort of rush anyway, but still, it eats away at him.
it isn’t until you gracefully unsheath your sword that he finally understands. a sly smile works its way onto his lips, a chuckle escaping him as he assesses the area you’ve dragged him off to.
“you’re not an easy person to find a gift for,” you say lightly, circling around him while also giving yourself enough space. no need to get too close to him just yet. “but i think i’ve found something you’ll like.” nerves give rise to hesitation, but you push through without much issue. he considers your words, weighing them carefully as his hand hovers over the hilt of one of his swords. because he knows you’re not delusional enough to actually think you can defeat him, he has no desire to fight you at full capacity. still, he’ll honor your request, liking that you considered his preferences as you planned for his birthday.
“you might come to regret that later, y’know,” he warns, his tone hinting at something delightfully wicked, causing you to feel flustered under the heated look in his eye. you wave him off, not wanting to fall for his devious words just yet. with enough focus, you might be able to stand a chance against him.
you hope so, anyway.
“thankfully i’m determined to not lose to you.” you actually mean this seriously; despite not being as adept or proficient in your swordsmanship as he is, you think you’ll give him a hard enough time to entertain him properly. stopping a few feet away from him, you ready yourself, taking a deep breath, a sudden calm descending on you. he admires your resolve, unsheathing his sword slowly, his lone eye watching you carefully, mind coming up with predictions on how you might make your first move.
delicate, yet fierce, you plant your feet firmly, a powerful momentum surging through you as you slash through the air. it’s poetic in a way—a phenomenal sharpness giving rise to clarity within you. he’s always said that you move like water; fluid, lissom, dangerous if left unchecked. somehow you manage to emulate that element almost perfectly, body and mind in sync, breathing coordinated and carefully curated to keep your flow constant. he blocks your initial attack right away, although you’re not deterred. not in the least.
if he made it easy, you’d never forgive him—something he knows all too well. still, you come at him repeatedly, not letting up, pushing yourself to move faster, but he sees through it all. you once asked him how much his vision changed with the loss of his left eye, his response haunting you for months on end. for him, it’s not so much that he’s lost sight, it’s that he’s gained a different form of it now that he only has one eye to rely on. it keeps him focused; distractions are dangerous, and the pirate life doesn’t allow for distractions like that. he also hates the idea of relying on all of his senses to fight properly; adapt and evolve, it’s the only way to survive, according to him.
he meets all of your attacks head on, not letting up even when you stumble backwards or miss a step. at first, he means to take things lightly, not wanting the fight to last longer than necessary; but when he sees just how much you’re working to keep up with him, a warmth envelops him completely. it robs him of his hardened edge, but not enough that he eases up on you. despite how swift your movements are, how much you’ve trained to ensure that you can fight him on somewhat equal footing, you still can’t break through his defense.
and when he goes on the offense? it’s over for you.
the sun starts to set, painting the sky various shades of dark pinks and warm oranges, clouds drifting lazily, a breeze flitting through the clearing and ruffling your clothes and hair. after hours of fighting, you’re trying to catch your breath, your sword on the ground next to you as you lie on the grass. a laugh escapes your mouth as your eyes close briefly. you only mean to catch your breath—zoro’s stamina is a beast all on its own—peeking over at him as he stands near you, the sheepish smile on your face stoking that warmth within him all over again.
“you’re a monster,” you say half-joking, half-serious; it only strokes his ego and causes him to laugh darkly.
“that’s quite the compliment,” he says lightly, before helping you up. he has you on your feet in no time, but doesn’t let you go just yet. there’s a bit of blood on your neck; he’s not sure if it’s yours or his, but what he does know is that it looks good on you. is it sick? possibly. does he care? of course not. if there’s one thing about zoro, he rarely considers propriety when it comes to his own desires. with a gentle swipe of his thumb, it comes off of you—leaving a faint residue behind; the breathing that you once had under control becomes frighteningly destabilizing, as you grab his hand and bring it close to your mouth.
you’re not sure what possesses you—maybe adrenaline from the battle or maybe just being around him—but your tongue slips out, gliding along his thumb pad, giving it a sensual lick, your eyes never leaving his. he summons every ounce of restraint within him, even hoping his ancestors can grant him strength to overcome you; fighting with swords is one thing, but when you do things like that? he’s utterly powerless.
still, he has no intention of losing to you.
he kisses you, then, his hand grabbing the back of your neck, holding you still as he thrusts his tongue into your mouth with a purpose. you’re so swept up by his kiss, that you almost don’t hear the sound of your captain shouting for you both. you forgot that you told them to come back around this time, and nearly pout when he breaks the kiss. it’s not often you get to have him to yourself like this, but you know you can’t stay on that island forever.
it’s not lost on him that the others used this as an excuse to put together a party anyway. once you’re back on the ship, you both shower and get changed so that you can join your crew mates in their festivities. sanji’s prepared a tasty spread—as usual—and nami spares no expense when she purchased the alcohol. brook keeps you all entertained with song after song, luffy singing along loudly and badly, putting everyone in a good mood with his silliness.
before long, your body reminds you of your exhaustion, a yawn tumbling out of your mouth; you should probably head to bed, but zoro whisks you away to his room while the others are busy. his hands are on you as soon as he locks the door, tugging your clothes off quickly, calloused hands rough against your skin, but the sensation is more than welcomed. you’re helpless against him when he kisses along your jaw, lips and teeth nipping your skin, tongue gliding along your throat with a vengeance.
just an hour prior, he mentioned, in between bites of cake, that he enjoyed the first half of his birthday gift. when you looked visibly confused, he continued to explain that he would collect his other gift at another time. you suppose this is the other gift he was talking about. not that you mind; and how could you? your boyfriend is tragically handsome in a rugged way, rough around the edges, but good deep down. no matter what others might think, you know that he’s not the demon people claim he is; nor is he nearly as demented as he likes to make himself out to be.
not that much, anyway.
he tosses you effortlessly onto the his bed, his mattress soft as you bounce; you’re not exactly shy, but whenever he looks at you like that—like he can’t believe you still want to be with him or that you’re equally attracted to him as he is to you—you turn into a stuttering mess. it suits you just fine, he thinks, makes things more interesting for him too. your hands itch to touch him, but zoro has other plans.
“do you trust me?” he asks out of nowhere; you look at him strangely, not understanding the question or his need to ask that.
“yes. of course i do.”
he considers your answer carefully, a devilish grin sliding onto his face with ease, voice husky as he says, “good.”
you’re not sure why, but a shiver slips down your spine, your head full of mush, mouth parched at the idea of him taking control. he steps away for a moment, only to come back and tie you to his bed. the bindings aren’t terribly intricate or hard to recreate, but they’re tight enough that they limit your range of motion. you tug on your wrists experimentally, surprised to see that the rope is actually holding you still. something about the way he watches you—hungry, intense, a little unhinged—causes your arousal to grow. you want to close your legs but can’t; zoro laughs at your feeble attempts, discarding the rest of his clothes before climbing onto the bed and hovering over you.
the restriction is driving you crazy, but it’s his birthday and you want to see things through. besides, it’s all so very erotic, you’re glad the others are far away.
his mouth latches onto your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple; you bite down on your lip but he grabs your face and pulls your lips away from your teeth. “don’t you dare,” he warns, the look he gives you only makes you want him more. “i want to hear you properly.” he goes back to teasing your breasts, his tongue tracing circles around your nipples playfully while you whimper pathetically underneath him. you feel his cock hard against your stomach, and you roll your hips forward, hoping to urge him to move faster.
zoro has other plans for you, however, and ignores your teasing movements.
when his mouth finally makes its way down your stomach, tongue tracing a dangerous path down your navel, your body trembling as he places a few kisses on your inner thighs.
“zoro…,” you whine, tugging on your wrists again, frustrated that you can’t move and that he’s moving too damn slow for your liking. his laughter thunders around the room, echoing and rattling you from the inside. “it’s not funny!” you’re pouting now, a tear sliding down your cheek when he finally grants you some mercy, his tongue slowly swiping at your folds. your hips buck, but he doesn’t hold back; his hands find their way onto your thighs and hold onto them as he positions himself, his mouth latching onto your pussy like the irksome, wonderous leech it is. zoro rarely holds himself back and feasts on you like you’re the only meal he’s ever considered eating for the rest of his life.
your back arches off of the bed, nipples hard in a pleasurable, yet painful sort of way; you don’t even bother to try and keep your voice down, as zoro is clearly trying to get you to lose your voice without much remorse. you moan his name so loudly, you’re sure someone has heard you over the music; it amuses him, your inability to keep composed, even when all he’s doing is eating you out. although, that’s not quite true, is it? zoro doesn’t do things half-assed, and when it comes to sex, he goes all out.
a man starved, he takes his fill of you, tongue ardently thrusting inside of your entrance; and when he swaps his tongue for his fingers, he sucks on your clit skillfully, an orgasm working its way through you when he plunges his fingers into you fast and hard, curling them just how you like him to do. he doesn’t let up, jolts of electricity shocking you into silence, your pussy more sensitive than it’s ever been. he licks you clean and then proceeds to lick off his fingers too.
“better than booze,” he says cheekily, a deep flush covering your face, causing you to look away. he unties your feet and you’re more grateful than he realizes. if he doesn’t fuck you properly soon, you might actually lose your mind. you mean to tell him as much until you hear a loud bang outside of his door. he wants to ignore it, but something feels off, so he finishes untying you and helps you off the bed. as you scramble to get dressed, legs shaky from cumming just minutes prior, he gives you a quick kiss; a silent reminder that he’s not done celebrating his birthday. you almost don’t want to leave the room, but a pirate’s life is to be in the thick of danger on a daily basis—even when all you want to do is help your boyfriend celebrate his birthday.
when he senses your displeasure at being interrupted, he slaps your ass and grins at your shocked expression. while he might think he has the upper hand now—and he definitely does—you know later one, when things have quieted down, you’ll get your revenge and end the birthday celebration properly.
and later, much later, he’ll tell you that it was the best birthday he’s ever had; his words will set your heart aflame, give you the sort of ego-boost you need, and cause you to plan much more meticulously for next year.
#whew finally done; today was a slow week for me#sry zoro has no home training#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece smut#one piece imagine#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro x reader#zoro x y/n#fic request#zoro smut#roronoa zoro x y/n
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Chicago Intelligence Eight ! :)
Taglist:
@freyathehuntress
@itsdesiree86
@star017
@icanthinkofausername
@samantha-chicago
@dragonqueeneliza
A/N: I just wanna I’m so sorry for the late posting ! Also I get this chapter is more of a filler helping it lead to the next final parts. I’m thinking one or two more and it will be all finished ! :)
Also lol I feel like the next part should def be in OA’s POV
Chicago Intelligence Part 8 :) !
Y/N’s POV
Taking down Hank Voight seemed so easy. But you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple and you were scared.
You already told OA you were comfortable with the plan but deep down you really didn’t want to do it.
First of all OA going to statesville was something that was messed up. It was rough there and you were worried about word getting out that he was a Fed.
Hank could easily spread the word and you were worried they would find out about you and Maggie.
There were so many risk factors that went along with this plan. You told everyone you were fine but the truth is you weren’t okay.
You just knew that in this moment you needed a break. OA and Maggie were talking about what to do.
You weren’t sure what they were talking about considering you got lost in your own train of thought.
But suddenly it felt like the walls were closing in and you needed to get out of there. So you got up from your seat and headed out.
You didn’t hear them calling you. You just kept walking to get out your knees felt weak and you thought you were going to pass out at any moment.
You just tried and focused on getting out there as quick as you could.
Finally you made it out the front door and sat down on the bench. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing.
OA had run out after you and he placed a hand on your back and sit down next to you. He started rubbing your back and tried to calm you down.
“Hey baby come on it’s okay your okay” OA said.
You slowed down your breathing and started to calm down. You sat up straight and looked over at Omar. Who was looking at you with a worried look all over his face.
“I’m okay I just wasn’t feeling well” You lied to him
“Y/N please don’t lie to me we never lie to each other” OA pleaded
“I’m just worried okay I still don’t know if I trust my dad this whole thing seems so easy and if they do send you up to statesville what if voight tells everyone your a fed there dangerous. They don’t play” You admitted.
OA grabbed your hand and squeezed it. He looked at you with a sad and worried face.
“I only agreed to do this because you said you were okay with it” OA said
“I know I know and I am I’m just worried okay there is so much that could go wrong” You said
“Hey Look at me i know i get it this is risky and it’s hard but out job always has risk and this is worth it” OA said.
“I’m trying hard to be okay but it’s just things are different right now and it’s just not the twins it’s this place. Chicago is rough and fucked up” you said
“You just have to believe everything will be okay alright you can’t think negative okay give this what about a week and then we get to go home” OA said
“Yeah I guess your right” You said
“ I am it’s gonna be okay so let’s head back to Maggie and talk about our plan” OA said
“Okay let’s go” You said.
“wait before we go I need to tell you something okay. What ever happens I love you so much okay you and these babies are the best things that ever happened to me” OA Said
“I love you too no matter what happens you are the best thing that happened to me and the twins love you so much so you make sure your okay” You said
“Yes Ma’am” OA said leaning in and kissing you.
You kissed him back then he broke the kiss and kissed your forehead super quick.
OA got up and then lent you a hand to to help you up. The two of you walked down hand and hand to the conference room Maggie was waiting in.
You guys took your seat back and Maggie looked over at you and smiled
“Are you okay” She asked
“Yeah I’m good just needed some air” You said.
“Good listen i get it this is a lot but were almost done” Maggie said
“That’s what I told her we got a strong case” OA said.
“So we just sit back and wait and have them reach out to us OA should go back to his undercover apartment and stay there so it doesn’t look suspicious” Maggie said
“We should send one of our guys into statesville so we know he’s protected in there” You said
“Yeah we can pick out someone we trust” Maggie said
“Which is hard in Chicago” OA said
“What if there not from Chicago what if we reach out to someone back home talk to Jubal” you said.
“Let’s do that” OA said
“Until then we need to work on making a strong case so far we got them framing OA , threatening an Agent” You said
“What about Hailey how’s things going with her case” Maggie asked
“Good solid we have enough for the warrant but I say we hand them down at one time all big swoop” OA said
“I agree if they know were on to them they can clam up and reach out to their contacts.” You said
“So right now our plan is to find someone to send to statesville and lay low until OA get’s contacted, '' Maggie said.
“Sounds like a plan I’ll call Jubal tell them to send someone out” You said
“Let’s go” OA said
You all three got up and walked down to the entrance. You guys were going to drop him off at the subway so he could get home without being caught. You knew it was going to be a minute before he could contact you guys and that worried you.
You tried to remain calm and listen to what he said. There was no point of worrying about something that hasn’t happened. There was also another part that was bugging you.
Why hadn’t your dad called you back yet. If he was on your side why hadn’t he let you know anything that was going on.
You pulled out your phone to check it. There was nothing there and it made you disappointed. Should you try and reach out to him.
But then you thought this was on him and not you. If he wanted to he could reach out to you.
This whole thing was coming to a close and how he chose to end it was on him. There was nothing at this point you could do about it.
If you knew Voight you would know that considering it was thursday he was going to make sure OA went to statesville during the weekend.
Secondly he wasn’t going to wait around for anyone he was going to move quick.
Which you were honestly grateful for because all you wanted was to just go home. To actually get ready for the twins.
Everyone in the car had anxiety and no one wanted to talk about it. We all just tried our best to keep our heads on straight.
You reached the subway rather quickly and you were disappointed you just wanted to keep OA with you forever.
Have him stay right with you and keep him safe but you knew that he had to do this.
OA hopped out the back seat and then he leaned in on your side.
“Be safe okay please” You said
He reached in and kissed you quickly while placing a hand on your belly.
“Your gonna be okay you won’t be alone alright and like Y/N said just be safe and come back to us” Maggie said
“I will I love you both I’ll see you guys later” OA said.
“Bye” you and Maggie both yelled.
You guys sat and watched him go down into the subway your heart breaking. Maggie reached over and grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze.
You looked over at her and smiled
“Back to the hotel” You said
“Yeah let’s grab lunch then we can call Jubal and like OA said we just lay low and wait for it to play out and with how big your getting and those twins you need the rest” Maggie said.
“I appreciate it but I’m okay really” You said
“No your not your 4 months pregnant now and it’s twins so it’s extra work” Maggie said
“With everything going on i forgot i reached 4 months” You told her.
“Once we get back to New York I am going to throw you the biggest baby shower ever and all this will be put behind us” Maggie said.
“Thank you but” You started then Maggie cut you off
“Don’t even say no okay it’s happening this a good thing and we need to celebrate it” Maggie said.
“Thank you it means a lot it really does” you told her
“Of course you ready” Mags asked
“Let’s go” you said.
Maggie pulled out and you took off back to the hotel. You guys grabbed some fast food on the way back to the hotel.
You guys walked up to your room and Maggie was right behind. You sat on the bed and she sat down near the table. You both ate in silence. It was like a weird air in the room like a heavy feeling you both had.
After you guys finished eating you looked over at Maggie
“Are you ready to call him” You asked
“Let’s do it we need someone down here as of yesterday” Maggie said
You pulled out your phone and called Jubal putting on speaker
“Hey Y/N how’s everything going” Jubal asked
“Good hey I have Maggie here with me and we need to update you on what’s going on and ask for help” You said.
“Okay I’m listening,” Jubal said.
“So did you know OA was down here trying to take down Hank Voight” You asked
“No they didn’t tell me or Isobel much about the case” Jubal said.
“Well he is and now were working to take him down and now Hank Voight is planning on framing OA and sending him to statesville and we have a case on Hailey Upton on murder of a former CI” You said
“Wow okay now that’s a lot so what do you need help with” Jubal asked
“We need someone to go undercover with OA to statesville so he’s not alone” You said.
“What’s going with Agent Todd” Jubal asked
“He’s working with Hank he flipped we can’t trust him” you said
“Okay alright I’ll talk to Isobel and were send someone down tonight” Jubal said
“Thank you we appreciate it” You said
“You guys stay safe out there” Jubal said
“You stay safe to” You said hanging up the phone.
There was a small part of relief coming off of that phone call. Knowing OA wouldn’t be alone inside the Jail and we had someone protecting him.
“See Y/N everything is going to be okay” Maggie said
“Yea Yea I know” You said
“Have you heard from your dad at all” Maggie asked
“No and we heard them say they were vetting us he ever mentioned it to me” You said
“Don’t give up hope okay maybe he just can’t get away” Maggie said
She always did that try and make a situation positive. Maybe she was right tho maybe he couldn’t get alone.
“So what now that we have to lay low what are we going to do” You asked
“We could sit back relax and watch some TV we never get the opportunity back home might as well take advantage now” Maggie said
“Sounds like a plan come on over” You said moving over to give her room.
Maggie smiled and came over and sat down next to you. The two of you started binge watching your favorite show and your favorite character was Cyrus Lupo. He was really cute and something about him reminded you of Jubal.
The rest of the day was fun and you guys really just chilled and laughed and watched tv. Even though you were worried about OA of course you took this as an opportunity to relax and chill.
You and Maggie were now laying on the bed cuddled into each other and both of you were to comfortable to move. Suddenly though your phone started to ring and you jumped up to reach it.
It was your dad calling you and you looked over at Maggie
“Answer it” She yelled.
“Hello” You answered putting it on speaker
“Hey Y/N it’s I uh wanted to let you know there coming down hard and you guys need to be ready” Jay said
“What do you mean what are they doing” You asked
“It’s OA there planning on setting him up sending him to statesville to keep him quiet” Jay said
“How he’s a Fed that’s not going to work” You said
“He has a guy and it’s the weekend so he wouldn’t be processed until the morning anyways” Jay said.
“So what can we do” You asked
“There setting up a meeting with the gun case that’s where it going to do down but if you pull him out now it’s going to look suspicious” Jay said
“So what we are just letting it play out” You asked
“Listen to me I will try my best to let it play out okay I won’t let it get to far” Jay said
“Okay yeah I trust you” You said
“I love you Y/N you have my word everything is going to be okay” Jay said
“I love you to so much” You said
“I gotta go but I’ll keep you updated” Jay said
“Bye” you both said.
You hung up the phone and looked over at Maggie and she smiled.
“See i told you everything would work out” Maggie said
“Yeah I’m glad he called and hopefully OA has someone else looking out for him” you said.
“He does and it’s going to be okay” Maggie said
“Yeah I know” You said
“Look i don’t know about you but I could shower and I’m hungry so we shower then order some pizza and finish out the night watching tv okay” Maggie said
“Yeah sounds like a plan” You said.
You both got up and Maggie went back to her room and you got in the shower. It was nice to wash away the day. The warm water running down your back which felt really nice. You cleaned up and then got out and put your PJ’s on.
You came out and sat on the bed. You got your phone and looked down at it. Nothing at all just random notifications.
A few minutes later Maggie walked in with Her PJ’s and walked over to the bed. You both laid down how you were before.
“I ordered us some pizza should be here soon” Maggie said
“Thank you sounds good” You said
“Want to switch to SVU now” You asked
“Hell yeah” Maggie said which caused you to laugh.
You put on the show and sat your phone down on the night stand next to you. About 30 minutes later the pizza came and you guys started eating. It was hot and greasy just what you needed.
It was getting late at this point but neither you or Maggie could sleep just staying awake. Just opting to stay awake and watch tv.
Then your phone went off again and you reached over and grabbed it. There was a text from OA
“Mags look it’s Omar” You said
“What did he say” Maggie asked
“It says that tomorrow is a go 5pm down at the old district warehouse off 3rd street” you read it.
“Okay we wil make sure were be ready” Maggie said
“This means it real it’s going to happen” You said
Maggie looked over at you
“Hey its going to be okay alright we stick to our plan” Maggie said
“Yeah okay your right” You said
You texted him back to stay safe and you loved him and he texted back he loved you too.
You laid back down and turned your attention back on the TV. Trying to relax there was nothing that could be done about it now.
You just hoped this weekend went by as smoothly as possible. That everything was going to be okay because there was no turning back now.
Also you wondered who was coming to down to help and why hasn’t anyone reached back out
#oa zidan x reader#oa x reader#oa imagine#oa one shot#oa zidan imagine#OA Zidan#oa zidan one shot#Maggie Bell#Jubal Valentine#jay halstead#jay halstead imagine#jay halstead x reader#Chicago PD#chicago pd x reader#chicago pd imagine#hank voight#FBI show#FBI imagine#fbi one shot#fbi cbs#fbi
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Until I Fall - Part 9
Levi Ackerman x Fem Reader.
Eventual romance but this is a slow burn, definitely angsty and darker. It will also focus a lot on Hange, Erwin and the original scouts. Eren and the 104th training corps will be around but I’m focusing on the older characters in here. Your self insert name is ‘Azeria Becker’ pronouns She/Her/Hers. Using a name because don’t like using ‘y/n’.
Cannon universe. I wrote this for myself but I hope that you enjoy it, too lol <3
cw: imagine literally every awful/gory thing that happens in SNK. Death, violence and gore. Drinking, sex. (bolded ones in this chapter)
I will be releasing 2 chapters at a time every few days. You can find all chapters here.
The days leading up to the 27th expedition all rolled together. More training, more sitting in the boardrooms and most importantly, checking the signal flares every morning and night to make sure they were all working. Erwin was adamant that his squad needed to prove the usefulness of the devices. He didn't explain further but the look in his eyes was of determination. There was only one instruction for you all; don't fail and don't die. Everyone seemed calm, but with each passing day the silence in the room grew. Soon you'd be back out in hell, fighting for your life again.
The night before the expedition, the dining hall was filled with a different air. You were sitting nexts to Ilse and a few of your fellow trainees tonight. You wanted to see them all. The odds were low that you all would be in that room again, and it was a strange, cold feeling to have. People talked of their families, their friends and what foods they wanted to eat when they got back. Everyone desperately longed for something that would be strong enough to make them fight. You talked about your parents. They were engineers in the interior who had mostly built houses and transport carriers. When you told them that you were becoming a scout, they were so mad.
"We worked hard to make a good name for ourselves, we've given you the best education and connections so that you could come back and become an MP. Why, Azeria? Why would you do this to your mother and I?" Your fathers words still rattled in your head. "Because," You stood your ground, trying to hold back the tears you felt from their disappointment, "There has to be more out there. There has to be something that we can do. I refuse to believe the only options are to hide away or get eaten. Even if you don't understand my choices, you need to know that this is what I've always wanted."
Now that you had seen titans up close, it felt like you couldn't go back to who you were before. Even though it terrified you; their horrible screams and the sounds of your comrades being eaten. It put you into a paralyzing fear just to think of it. But you would never be the same person that you were before that first expedition. You couldn't run away. Now that you had fought, you needed to keep going.
"Ilse, where are you in the formation tomorrow?" You asked as the two of you sat in your bunks, "I think our squad is riding just out behind the Commander; middle formation. I'm guarding the supply carts." You felt a little relief knowing that. It would be one of the safest places. "I wish I was up at the front with you," She said, stretching herself down into the sheets. "Me too," you yawned, "Just keep it up, you'll be with me soon." Night had arrived but your heart was racing. You stared up at the patterns in the wood on the ceiling for what felt like hours until sleep took over your body.
Finally; morning arrived. You rode out of Shiganshina just after breakfast. It was a gloomy day, the sky was full of heavy grey clouds that threatened of rain and that was never a good thing during expeditions. The streets were full with people looking to watch the spectacle of the Scouts. Riding up at the front on Erwin's team was a rush. He lead the group out with Commander Shadis, followed by Hange and Levi, then Oliver, Mike and finally, you. "Enjoy it, kid. It's never the same when we return," Mike said over his shoulder to you. Looking around at the people, you saw all of the faces cheering you on. Even after the first expedition, you felt the pressure of being a Scout. Looking in front of you, the rest of your squad sat straight, faces determined. You adjusted yourself to copy them. We will not let you down. We will create the freedom of the future. But even as you thought it, you couldn't ignore the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears. The gates rose up in front of you. It was time. The ground rumbled with the sound of the hundreds of horses.
"Soldiers, advance to positions!" Commander Shadis yelled, his voice booming. Your squad took the lead. With all of the best soldiers in the front, you were guaranteed to encounter most of the titans. Erwin wanted to spread out everyone even further on the front line because of the signal guns. The Commander would be riding beind your squad to instruct the other teams behind him. The hope was that by having Erwin take on most of the titans up front, less of the soldiers in the back would be at risk. The goal was to find a suitable landscape perimeter that could be added as another outpost town to wall Maria. If the Scouts could establish a location that was naturally protected from titans then building could commence in the summer, and there would be new land to plant crops for the following spring. The only problem was that it seemed too good to be true.
"Soldiers, take your positions!" Erwin commanded. Like clockwork the group divided. Levi was at the front point, Hange on the far left and Mike on the far right with the rest of your squad broken up within the formation. Erwin rode in the middle to give signals. It didn't take long. You saw Levi's signal flare go off far ahead. Suddenly, a red flare from the far right, and then the far left. You kept riding, waiting for Erwins call. Finally, a green flare; move to the west. You shot your first flare and saw the other green smoke signals fly around you. The formation shifted, but the red flares shot out again from all sides. That wasn't a good sign. Then; black smoke. Shot from all three sides of the formation. How could there be abnormals in all directions?
"Azeria, let's go support!" Oliver yelled across to you. You turned your horse to follow him and the two of you rode in Mike's direction. It didn't take long to spot it; a ten meter titan, running towards the scouts. Your heart raced in your chest. You had never encountered an abnormal before. Mike had his swords drawn. The ground shook with the sounds of the horses running and the titans feet. Then, from behind the abnormal you spotted two more titans. "Shit," you cursed, "Looks like he brought friends."
Oliver clipped the reigns of his horse, "You take the 4 meter; I'll take on the 8!" The two of you galloped faster, Mike hollered to the two of you, "Leave me with this one, take care of the rest!" You passed by the abnormal; it was big. Mike was fast though and he was already in the air fighting ferociously. He was strong and fast, faster than you could see. You had to keep going to kill the others. Adrenaline rushed through your body and even though you were terrified, you knew you had to fight with all that you had.
"Hey! Ugly!" You shouted at the monster. It stopped chasing Mike and came straight for you. It was small, but it moved quicker than you anticipated. You got your horse close and switched to the ODM gear, anchoring to him by his skull. You flew up and just missed his hand grasping for you. Without hesitating, you screamed and sliced the back of its neck. It crashed down in a steamy flood. Your heart was pounding; your first kill. Looking back over, you heard Oliver scream; he was caught in the titans hand. "I'm coming!!!" You yelled, flying over to the titan. He was stabbing it across the face, screaming bloody murder. "HELP ME-" He screamed.
It stopped. There was a horrible snapping sound. Your eyes widened. Terrified.
It had killed him. You were furious, your entire body rushed with white hot anger. You cut its neck, tears streaming down your face. Its body crashed to the ground; lifeless. "Oliver," you cried.
"Azeria!" Mike screamed; there was no time to be sad. Mike was dodging the titan clawing at him, but only by a few inches. You rushed over and cut the heels of the abnormal; Mike finishing the job. Your voiced was shaky, "It got Oliver." His face was hardened and furious. "I know. But we need to go; look." In the field away, more red signals were being fired. It was on all sides of Erwin's squad; and who knew how many were behind them in the rest of the formation. You ran over to Olivers body and grabbed a ring from his hand; the only thing that you could find on his remains. "Let's go!"
Your horses were charging to the front now; on the way you had to help other soldiers fight even more titans; it felt endless. It was a massacre on the scouts. Too many titans and too few people. You felt helpless. Mike and you kept riding after each kill, leaving behind wounded soldiers and steaming titan bodies. Your hands were covered in the blood of soldiers, your body trembling with adrenaline. Finally you reached Erwin; his eyes widened with rage, charging towards Levi at the front, "We need to retreat, otherwise we will all die out here! Go help Hange and fall back! We can't defeat them!" He was cold and rode off into the front of the formation; shooting a blue signal into the sky.
You rode as fast as you could across the form, killing more titans until you finally reached Hange and Moblit; facing four titans alone. You and Mike took two together, you'd cut the heels and he'd make the kill. Hange and Moblit took the other two. "Let's fall back!" Hange said, the defeat and anger was written across her face. You were trembling, "I need to find Levi!" The three of them looked at you. "We've been ordered to fall back. Levi will be fine," Mike said, his brows were furrowed. "I'll go to the Captain and ride with him! I won't leave him!" Why on earth were you saying these things? If you stay out here and ride back; you'll die. But you couldn't leave him. It didn't feel right. "Azeria," Hange but a hand on your shoulder, trying to reason with you but your eyes were begging for them to let you. "We aren't far. Mike and I just saw Erwin." Mike let out a sigh. He knew you weren't going to budge. "Fine. Go straight to Erwin. Signal if there is a problem. The rain began to pour down from the sky.
You hopped back on your horse and charged back in Erwins direction. He wasn't far. If you could get to the captain, you could get to Levi. You couldn't leave without knowing he was okay. Even if you were certain Levi would be fine, it was too hard to think on leaving him out there alone. Suddenly; a 10 meter titan came barreling in your direction. "Dammit not again!" You fired off a red flare. Your heart was racing. This time you were alone. There was nothing to hook onto nearby; you'd need to take on the titan from the ground, much to your disadvantage. You loaded new blades and grew your swords. This was it. You had to kill it. No one was there to help you. It came closer. You hooked onto the side of its thigh and used it to project you to the back of its legs, slicing one of its heels. It let out a horrible cry. Its hands were swinging for your body now, you shot yourself up to its eyes so that it would stop grabbing you. It terrified you to see its face so close, and its hands just missing your feet. You cut one of its eyes and it screamed out again. With it being blinded, it would give you a chance to cut the other heel and send it to the ground. You flipped over the top of its body, racing to cut its other ankle. Suddenly an arm swung out from between its legs and grabbed you. Shit.
You hacked at its arm and kicked wildly to try and break free, but nothing was working. You screamed. A terrible animalistic scream that you had heard from Oliver before he was killed. This was it. You swung your sword wildly trying to make any kind of damage that you could, but it was reaching up its hand to its mouth; ready to swallow you. Tears streamed out of your eyes, "I'm going to kill you!" You screamed, but it was no use. How could you be so stupid? Why did you turn back? Now, you'd never get to see anyone again. Its jaw opened and you could smell its hot breath.
"What the shit are you doing?!" Levi's voice appeared. He was on top of its head, covered in blood and fuming. He cut the titans neck just as it was pulling you to its mouth. It fell over with you still stuck in its hand. He dragged you out on the ground, panting. You were so disoriented. "Levi," was the only thing you could say. "Why did you not retreat back?!" He shook you by your shoulders. "I- I- wanted to make sure you-"
"-I told you not to do anything stupid! You almost died!" His eyes were wild. He was covered in blood and sweat. His hands held you tightly by your arms and he looked at you with what seemed like a mixture of relief and anger. "Im sorry," you said, tears streaked down your face. You reached out and hugged him tight. It was a frantic hug; you clung to his body and grimaced in pain and sadness. He held you back, his arms were so tightly coiled around you. The rain fell around you, adding to the filth, the sweat, the tears and the blood. You couldn't help but feel relief that he was there, his breathing in your ear was such a comforting sound after so much fighting. For a brief, beautiful moment, you felt a sense of peace that you had never experienced before, it felt like the two of you were floating in nothingness. You never wanted to let him go. But it couldn't last long; you had to retreat. He pulled you back, "Lets go."
You rode back. Galloping as fast as you could. It was a nightmare. Everyone had been killed. You rode past bodies and bodies of scouts. In total, only 20 had survived, most of them were in Erwins squad. The land was strewn with corpses. The pain was immeasurable. You managed to find Ilse, her leg had been broken and her horse missing. You put her on the supply cart and rode back. It was complete defeat. No one could speak; you had lost over half of the scouts. Just as the relief of being safe came; the nightmare of returning began. The gates rose and you looked as people realized in horror what had happened. Parents crying for their children, people yelling about wasting tax money, children crying at the horrors that were in front of them. The people infuriated you, they had so little understanding of why you did what you did. You felt the weight of a thousand bricks on your chest. You were exhausted, dehydrated and your forehead was bleeding profusely. Looking ahead at Levi, Hange, Moblit and Mike you could see them trying to hold it together. Only Erwin seemed to carry himself with that same great determination that he always did. You couldn't hide it the way that they did, though. The relief of survival was overshadowed by the great guilt of living.
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Chapter ten here
#levi x reader#levi aot#shingeki no kyojin#levi attack on titan#snk#aot#levi fanfiction#levi ackerman#aot fandom#attack on titan#snk fanfiction#aot fanfiction#until i fall
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Hello sunshine!! Please take as much time as you need with this, thank you for such a wonderful event.
My pronouns are they/them. Fandoms are haikyuu, tears of themis and txt. I would prefer a romantic matchup and my MBTI is ENFP. I am a Sagittarius (sun,mercury &venus) Leo Moon and Aquarius (Rising & Mars). What I value most in a relationship is emotional support, teamwork and communication. I always liked people with gentle eyes or eyes that are the most noticeable part of someone. Anyone with an aura that comes off shy and introverted but still sure of themselves is very attractive to me. Personality would be someone who’s kindness + sincerity + integrity shines through even if they are a bit apprehensive towards people or situations. Big heart energy, if I must say.
My personality is I am a good balance of emotions and logic. I love making people laugh and loosen up and I’m always ready to lend an ear. Sincerity is my favourite attribute in someone so it’s what I try to be everyday. The therapist friend and mom of the group most times. Troubles can weigh on me for days but I always remain optimistic despite. I am an ambivert with more introverted hobbies like writing, watching new shows and finding new music, reading poetry & non fiction, taking long walks and learning new languages.
Currently I am in a degree studying Cognitive Science with a minor in Computer Science. Random things that are very dear to me are my dogs, early mornings, my dark blue windbreaker, fruits and the 2001 movie, Artificial Intelligence. The quote I always live by is, “Follow your heart but take your brain with you.”
For the scenario, I would like a scenario about 3am late night talking, giggling under the covers about stupid jokes and talking about the most random topics. Thank you so much for doing this, take care of yourself. ❤️
1000 Follower Matchup Event #13
My event is now CLOSED but I will be doing more events like these in the future. You can check out the masterlist to this event here.
Note: 100000 years late, but it's finally here. Hope you enjoy. Also side note to anyone looking through my masterlist, I need to fix all the links on my account so they don't go straight to google (on mobile) and some just don't work so I'll need to work on that soon. In the meantime if you can't find your matchup that I've already posted you can try searching for it like Matchup #1 or something. idk. or send me an ask and I'll try and find it for you
I match you with SUGAWARA, SOOBIN, and LUKE
Runner-ups were Asahi, Taehyun, and Vyn
Sugawara:
I instantly thought Suga was a great match for you because you said you like someone with gentle eyes and I just LOVE Sugawara’s eyes. They look so comforting, like you can just open up to him about your deepest darkest secrets and he’d listen unconditionally.
Study dates are in your future with Suga, I’m not sure if he’s incredibly smart, but I’m pretty sure he isn’t failing like our beloved Tanaka or Kageyama lol. So you’d both have tons of study dates, though he does get distracted MANY times by your beauty and just stares at you with loving eyes until you catch him and make him focus on his work again. Cute~ He appreciates how intelligent you are, but also how laid back you can be. You’re the only person who’s ever really there for him so the fact that you can also listen to his worries and make him feel better on his bad days is so so special to him. He’d go out of his way to show you little signs of his thanks–nothing crazy, just things like bringing you flowers, buying you breakfast in the morning before your classes, little things to show he was thinking of you!
3am’s with Sugawara:
For some reason, I headcanon that this man can’t stay up late for the life of him
So 3am’s with Suga are delirious; he’s just rambling on about something and isn’t fully making sense, so you’re just laughing at him and he gets pouty because his half-awake self thinks you’re making fun of him
You had proposed the idea of a sleepover to him, and he was really trying his best to stay awake
Cue him jolting up and running to the bathroom to throw cold water over his face every few minutes
You do try and tell him that it’s okay for him to just fall asleep, but he refuses, he NEEDS to stay awake
Mission failed though because he does end up falling asleep as you just admire his sleeping face, deciding to end your attempt at an all nighter and just sleep with him as well
He does wake up early though and uses the time to admire you as you sleep
Soobin:
Okay so I had originally had Taehyun as my first choice, but after months of letting this matchup sit, I thought Soobin would be a better choice. Now excuse me if any of this is wrong, it’s been a long time since I delved into anything-txt-related, but I do still keep up with their music. I just haven’t had time to watch their other stuff SIGH. But again the eyes part made me choose him. Soobin has the cutest, most gentlest eyes in the whole world. Literally if he ever looks at me and asks me for anything, I’d have to give it to him, how can you say no? And let me just say, he definitely uses that to his advantage.
With the boys he’s a cheeky menace, but with you, he’s just so incredibly sweet (but still has his playful moments whenever he isn’t being shy). I’d like to think he’d be a gentleman with his s/o and treat them with so much love and care. He loves how intelligent you are and likes to watch you study instead of doing any studying himself lol. Really soft with you.
3a.m’s with Soobin:
I think he’s used to staying up late so being up at this time is no issue for him
He’ll think of something fun for the two of you to do together, whether it be playing games, or making a late night meal if you’re craving it
I picture cute convenience store runs as you both giggle in the dark of the night, as if only the two of you exist in the world–not a worry in sight
Soobin is more of a listener, so when you return to the comfort of your bed, he looks in awe at everything you tell him, listening to every little detail and jumping in to respond whenever it feels right to do so
It’s like staying up late with your best friend
You both make a bet on who can stay up the longest, whoever falls asleep first has to buy the other food the next day–something cute like that
Overall, it’s a fun night
Luke:
Your very own golden retriever, protective boyfriend. Shy, yet confident Luke, he’s perfect for you. He’d love your dogs, since I’m pretty sure he’s a dog person–love that. He’s a detective (and very in-shape) so he loves going on morning walks with you and your dogs. Early mornings are his favorite time of day to spend with you, seeing your face each morning is like the equivalent of drinking coffee for other people.
He’s typically busy with work, but whenever he’s free, he loves watching movies with you and just staying home to spend lots of time with you doing all your favorite things. He’s fascinated that you love learning different languages so he probably asks you to teach him a new word each day just so he can be included in that part of your life. In return he’ll let you in on some detective secrets (nothing classified though, sorry).
Best partner you could have really.
3a.m’s with Luke:
I need to replay every chapter of tot i swear
But I think Luke is the type to stay up late doing detective work (research and thinking things through) so he’s used to staying up
On the rare free nights that he gets, he’d feel super relaxed finally not having any work to do so he might feel a little drowsy as he listens to you chat about your day and other little things that come to your mind
He listens to every word though, refusing to fall asleep and leave you speaking to yourself
Use this opportunity to get him to say cute things without a filter, he’s usually not as confident with his words of affection when he’s wide awake (even though he does really care for you, he’s not fully used to it yet)
Throws the covers over the two of you and cuddles into you
Doesn’t fall asleep until you do first, no matter how tired he is
Not that thrilling, but definitely still tons of fun
EVENT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED
REGULAR REQUESTS ARE OPEN
Posted: 5/25/2023
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FLAT SPIN CHAP 5 SPOILERS!!
OH MY GOD IGGY THAT CHAPTER WAS ABSOLYTELY PERFECT!!!!
The way he asked her to come to Barcelona… SO carlos of him I wanted to cry… AND THE WAY HE METICULOUSLY PLANNED EVERYTHING? I am sorry if you dont like / dont care about zodiacs BUT THE VIRGO ENERGY IN HIM JUMPED OUT, and I respect it soooo much. Everything he planned was so /him/, but also so so perfect for MC — the little gestures? Ordering for her? Translating everything for her? POSTING HER ON HIS STORY? God i literally melted
AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON HIM COOKING FOR HER… because god damn you Know how Weak I am and it was so beautiful, also the British breakfast once again just shows how much he cares for her and understands her🥹 i am just about to combust actually
AND THEN RACE WEEKEND? And everything with the green tractor and also MC and Sebs relationship? Once again nailed it sm god i love these teammates… and how she didnt want to fight Seb / come across like that because he just means so much to her????? Girl you got me on the floor rn…
What I cannot stop thinking about is how shes in for the championship, and as of rn so is Carlos… Will they be fighting each other further down the line or… 👀 Make up sex as an apology for aggressive overtaking again? Or podium celebration sex because BOTH of them ended up on the podium (Silverstone? 👀) So many possibilities omfg dont mind me
AND THEN LAST BUT NOT LEAST (thiugh i still have so much to say but my slow ass brain needs a bit of time i guess) the ending was just perfect… like am I the only one thinking Carlos didnt want to sleep with her pre race weekend bc he wanted to fully focus on her but couldnt with all the GO expectations around him? But now that it was done he could let himself fully focus on her and give her all the attention he thinks she deserves? God I love them sm… And the way you let all those emotions show through during the smut was just CHEFS KISS, the way they understand each other is just so 🥹🥹🥹 i have no words lol other than i’m SO obsessed..,
God i hope this all is legible its 4:14am now and i am prone to word vomit already when my brain is working so this may just sound like incoherent crap but i hope you know this chapter was SO GOOD, also the way you captured Barcelona imo was spot on like I wouldnt have noticed that it was all based on research and not personal experiences (though i guess i must confess i havent been to barcelona since i was 4 either… JSJDKFKF BUT YOU MANAGED TO CAPTURE THE SPANISH VIBES PERFECTLY THAT I CAN TELL YOU BC I JUST VACATIONED IN SPAIN LAST MONTH)
okay oh my god i am back from festival and i am finally going to reply to this without crying halfway through...
firstly OH MY GOD. you... you wrote all this... about my work?? I'm touched, I'm shook, I'm honoured, this is honestly the best feeling and probably as close to a "real" author with people analysing my work as I'll ever get and I am ABSOLUTELY here for it (especially as a literature nerd who loves to pick apart all of my books for fun)
haha I don't *dislike* zodiacs, I don't really follow them to that much detail but I vaguely have an idea of them. To be honest, the way I write Carlos is purely based on the guy we see as a Formula One driver and personality (but now you say that I totally see the virgo energy). ALSO I'M SO GLAD YOU NOTICED THOSE I am entirely convinced Carlos is a very detail-oriented person and especially when he is first seeing someone he would be really careful to go out of the way to do really subtle but meaningful things yanno?
As for the championship fight... well I don't want to give anything away but oh I *definitely* have a plan for MC and Carlos and the WDC ;)
Haha don't worry it all made sense! And thank you so much for the comment about Barcelona... it's a little embarrassing how long I spent on google for things to do in and around the city because I've never been to mainland Spain, so even if it's not 100% accurate I'm just happy the vibes were right!!
honestly just thank you so much for this, it means the absolute world <3 <3 <3
#iggytalks#im actually unwell#this was so so kind#and im so touched#carlos sainz#formula one#flat spin
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hey bestie, I saw the worm fic shdhrjejs they would lol, but I got another request for you 😈😈 how would the brothers react to the one couple's trend- MC waking up the brothers to ask if they're asleep 🥸
-🐸 anon
waking them up to ask if they're asleep
includes: the brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)
wc: .7k | rated g | m.list
a/n: this was super fun lmao i feel like mc would do this haha. i hope you enjoy! my inbox is open to chat/leave feedback but reqs are closed atm!
warnings: brief mentions of fire
please reblog v,,v
➳ lucifer rolls over, one eye cracking open to glare at you. “did you seriously just wake me up to ask if i was asleep?” he asks, unamused. you nod, and he heaves a big sigh. “go away,” he says, not in the mood for your antics. he’s already crabby enough when he has to get up for reals, and you’re seriously not helping. “go away,” he says again, turning back away from you, dead set on ignoring you for the rest of the night and getting as much sleep as he still can.
➳ mammon squints, confused. “wha?” he asks, and you repeat your question. “well, i’m awake now,” he replies, rubbing at his eyes. “did ya need something? why’d ya ask?” you don’t really have a good answer to that since you really just wanted to mess with him, and your silence clues him on that fact. “oh, screw you,” he mutters. “i was havin’ a good dream too. i was really rich, and you were there too. lucifer was too, but i think he was my servant or something.” mammon pouts. “you don’t deserve to be in such a great dream. i’m goin’ back to sleep and redreaming it, but this time, without ya.”
➳ levi snaps his eyes open, instantly aware. it’s honestly pretty creepy. “what?” he asks. “are you okay? why’d you wake me?” you repeat your question, this time also asking how he woke up so fast. “really?” he asks, shaking his head. “i was, i guess. and i trained myself to do that since i oversleep so often because i’m up late gaming.” he gulps. “don’t tell lucifer that, though! he threatened to take away all of my consoles last time he caught me.”
➳ satan scrunches up his face, unimpressed. “i was asleep, mc. and i’d very much like to be asleep once more. unless there was something you needed?” you shake your head, a bit cowed by his no-nonsense tone of voice, and he scoffs. “don’t wake me up again unless the house is burning down or something,” he instructs. “well, maybe not even then. if it’s a small fire, let me sleep. but if it starts getting too close then i guess i’ll get up.” you can’t tell if he genuinely means what he says of if he’s just sleep muddled, but in either case, you hope there’s not a fire.
➳ asmo gingerly pulls up his sleep mask, blinking a few times until you come into focus. “what did you just say?” he asks, and you repeat your question. “i’m awake now,” he eventually replies. “though i wish i wasn’t! my beauty sleep is totally important and now my cycle is messed up! if i get breakouts because of this, i’m blaming you,” he pouts prettily. “really mc, i thought you knew better.” gasping, he turns his concern towards you. “wait, what are you doing up? you’re going to have like, super dark circles under your eyes! oh, mc, go to sleep right now!”
➳ beel blearily makes an inquisitive noise, and you ask your question again. it takes a little bit for him to truly be aware enough to register your words, but when he does, he responds with concern. “i’m awake now. are you okay? why are you up?” his words are genuine, and he searches your face for any sign of distress. you just shake your head, telling him you were curious. “oh,” he says. “well, now that i’m up i might as well have a midnight snack. want anything?”
➳ belphie just doesn’t wake up. but did you really expect him to? you know he can sleep through almost anything. it was kind of dumb for you to think he would’ve, in hindsight. no matter how much you shake, poke, or prod at him, he doesn’t stir. when he finally does move, you get excited, think he’s waking, but all he does is shift, curling more into his pillow. miffed that your prank didn’t play out, you decide the second-best option is to climb in bed with him, so you do, wiggling into his hold. it’s not what you had expected to happen going into this, but hey, it's definitely not the worst outcome either.
leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, post, or claim as your own
#obey me#obey me game#obey me shall we date#obey me x you#obey me x reader#obey me x gn!reader#lucifer obey me#mammon obey me#levi obey me#satan obey me#asmo obey me#beel obey me#belphie obey me#lucifer x you#lucifer x reader#mammon x you#mammon x reader#levi x you#levi x reader#asmo x you#asmo x reader#satan x you#satan x reader#beel x you#beel x reader#belphie x you#belphie x reader#leviswriting#leviswriting-obeyme#🐸.anon
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Breakfast for Choso with ingredients #17 and 34 with #2 sugar? Wine is optional.
EASY
— Nothing is ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d push through hell and back.
meal order: breakfast + 17, 34 (fake dating, rentboy au) + 2 (enemies to lovers) + biting, scratching, choso eating reader out, sex on the beach
warnings: mature content, unedited fic, choso is mean and harsh when he’s angry
notes: thank you so much for this anon! I really enjoyed writing this and this totally made my day. I hope you like it!
word count: 10k+ LOL CHOSO BRAIN ROT
check out the fanart @tigressnej-chan made, it s so beautiful HURRR
Your day was absolutely ruined. Dark, deep bags covered your under eyes as you stormed through the convenience store downstairs your apartment, body clad in an oversized hoodie and socks visible through slippers, hair greasy and lips chapped. You’re aware you look like a mess, but did you care?
Absolutely not, especially when you haven’t been sleeping well the moment you moved into this cursed apartment because of a certain fucker.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. That specific fucker – the cause of your ruin and the devil who prevented you from living a good life – waltzed inside the store, the small bell chiming to signal his presence. You scoffed at his confident, suave walk, further irritated because he just had to be insanely attractive – in an alternative, laid-back kind of way.
He wasn’t even your type; you preferred more refined men who wore pressed suits and leather shoes, but you had to admit this man was insanely attractive.
With deep, sunken eyes, a dark tattoo across the bridge of his nose and dark hair twisted into twin ponytails, large, muscular body covered in a black sweatshirt and a red scarf – he looked very much like a former member of a gang who retired because their barbaric ways wasn’t his thing. It was an odd theory, and you sat there at the corner of the store, glaring at the man who tiredly pressed the coffee maker machine for a dark roast.
As if feeling eyes on him, his lazy eyes slid over to yours, and almost automatically, one corner of his lips tilted up in humor. This fucker knew how much he annoyed you, and he only further pushed your buttons by walking over to you, the steam of his coffee nearly blocking your gaze.
“Good morning,” he greeted sarcastically, well aware that it definitely not a good morning for you.
“Have fun last night, neighbor?”
“Yes.”
“Jeez, you won’t even bother denying it?”
“I see no point in it,” he invited himself by sitting next to you, long legs crossed over his muscular thigh. You found yourself staring at how he seemed so firm even in loose sweatpants, averting your gaze and staring at your soggy ramen noodle cup instead. “And you’re not trying to hide the fact you’re listening, either.”
“I wasn’t listening!” you slammed your fist down the table – he didn’t even flinch, only continuing to sip his coffee as if you weren’t burning in anger beside him – as you hissed, “The walls are too damn thin and you’re so fucking loud.”
“No, I wasn’t. She was loud, though.”
Scoffing, you crossed your arms against your chest. He really was shameless. You already knew this man didn’t have enough shame in his body, but you didn’t think he’d have absolutely nothing.
Upon witnessing your stupefied state, he reached over to knock at your skull. “Still there, princess?” you cringed at his nickname for you; you didn’t even know this guy’s name, for pete’s sake! “Or are you still too bothered by the fact I got some good fucking last night?”
You flicked his arm away from you, nearly seething in your seat. “God, you’re insufferable. I should move out.”
“Yes, I think that would be for the best too,” he nodded to himself as he stared at his now empty coffee cup. Had it been that long already? Apparently, it was, because your noodles turned cold and your neighbor was already leaving your seat, dipping for a mocking bow. “Have a nice day, neighbor. Don’t think of my cock too much,” he teased, even going as far as winking until your jaw dropped.
You watched as he threw the paper cup in the proper bin, a little surprised he was decent enough to do mundane tasks like that. Sometimes, it was so easy to forget your neighbor was also a decent human being, but whatever.
You absolutely, utterly hated him, and you kept mumbling to yourself of the different ways you’d get your revenge on him as he walked out the door, his annoyingly gorgeous ass in view. “Yeah, right,” you scowled to yourself, “As if I can get that image out my mind now.”
He would not be an easy feat.
Despite your constant pleas for him to at least be silent during the weekdays to give you enough peace of mind to study for the finals, he didn’t stop. Hours just after the sun sets, you’d hear giggles and sloppy kisses on the hallway.
No matter how much you pressed your hands into your ears and set your music on full volume to block out the noise, you could always hear them.
Your neighbor was undeniably a fuckboy.
Every night, he’d have a different girl dangling in his arms. You knew, because the voices squealing his name while he fucked them right next door were always different. Some days, it was deep and throaty, and on other days it’d be high-pitched and nearly scraping at your ears. They all said the same thing though, such as fuck, right there, you feel so good or harder, harder, please, I’m so close!
To say you were traumatized was an understatement. You never wanted to hear such things again, but alas, your neighbor apparently couldn’t give a single shit because he was fucking someone again.
As if things couldn’t get worse, the person he brought home this time around just had to have the most fucking annoying voice ever. Or maybe it sounded like the others, but you were in the middle of memorizing veins and brain chemicals in alphabetical harder when you heard the headboard of his bed slam against your wall, the sound hard and loud enough you dropped your book in surprise.
They didn’t stop. If anything, he kept going harder until nothing but his low sexy groans and his partner’s screaming – that was right, she was fucking screaming – like she was having her insides rearranged.
You didn’t doubt the possibility that maybe she really was. Your neighbor was such a huge, attractive guy, after all, it would make sense he was capable of such. Before you knew it, you could no longer understand the words in your textbook. You kept rereading the same line over and over again, but nothing registered into your mind. You were so close to screaming at them to stop and shut the fuck up because it was three in the morning and they were still going at it, but you weren’t that mean.
Yes, you hated him, but you weren’t going to blue ball someone or make sex awkward. Sex with your ex was always awkward, so you knew how painful it was to live with that memory. No matter how much you hated your neighbor, you wouldn’t go that far.
So you trudged all the way up to the building’s public balcony, bringing a blanket with you to survive the chilly bite of the night.
You used your phone’s flashlight to read all over the textbooks, keeping your little note cards organized and color coded beside you. Finally, you could make sense of things a little bit more, and you chugged at your Red Bull to keep you awake. Time passed by so fast whenever you were lost with your nose stuck in a book, and your attention was only ripped away when the balcony door swung open, revealing your neighbor with messed up hair and bruised lips.
He looked totally fucked out.
“Oh, fuck, no – what are you doing here?”
“This balcony is for all tenants,” your neighbor barely blinked as he walked closer to you, but instead of joining you on the table, he leaned against the railings and stared into the night sky. He seemed so placid, a little approachable despite his intimidating face even, and for a moment, you were studying his sharp, masculine features before he turned your way with a passive face. “Last time I checked, I’m a tenant, therefore I have the rights to be here.”
“I don’t care,” you retorted childishly, pulling your books closer to you as if he wanted to steal it. He only raised a brow at your actions, the large muscles of his arms bulging up from where he stood.
It felt so hard to not salivate at the sight, but for the sake of your pride, you had to push those thoughts down and remind yourself why you hated him so much. “I evoke your rights. You’re not welcome here.”
“You’re awfully harsh to a stranger.”
“You’re not a stranger, you’re my neighbor who brings girls in his home every night and I can never get a wink of sleep because all I can hear is them moaning and the sound of balls slapping!”
“Vulgar,” he smirked, and he had no business looking so attractive with that arrogant smirk on his face that it took all energy you had in you to not whack him with your book.
“I think I deserve an apology.”
“I think you should mind your business.”
You stood up with a scowl, nearly shoving the book right in his chest. “Bro, I’m this close to slapping this book right in your pretty face. You see how thick this is? I’m not kidding, this will hurt. Listen, I’ve got a final exam and a suture practice this weekend. All I’m asking for is just a few hours of sleep – that’s all. I just don’t get why you always seem to be balls deep in someone at every god forsaken hour; I can’t focus on my work when the noises are so distracting. At this point, I remember their begging more than I’m familiar with nerves. I need to study, okay? I really want to graduate.”
He fell silent at your sudden rant, then, he tilted his head to the side, a small smile on his lips. “You think I have a pretty face?”
“After everything I said, that’s all you remember?”
“It’s kind of hard to listen to every word when I’m distracted by your eyes.”
His comment caught you off-guard, and your eyes widened, arm coming up to hide your face that soon began to felt warm. He only chuckled at your reaction, the sound deep and throaty that it went right straight into the pools of your belly. “My eyes – what are you talking about? Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You’re so creepy!”
“Hmm,” he snickered, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”
“What, no one tells you you’re creepy?”
“No, people always say I’m handsome,” he said it with such a straight face that you gave him an are you serious look, and he raised one shoulder to shrug. “I’m surprised you’re not attracted to me, to be honest.”
“Wow,” you drawled out, shaking your head with a laugh as you plopped down back to your seat in defeat. “Aren’t you full of surprises? First, I get a really horny man as my next door neighbor who keeps me up at night with his shenanigans, and now he’s got the audacity to ask me why I’m not attracted to him?”
“I mean,” he scrunched his nose cutely, a huge contrast to his domineering stature. “Why aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I give up. I’m just gonna crash at my friends tonight,” you mumbled to yourself while gathering your things, leaving your neighbor all by himself. As you reached the door, you called out to him one more time, “Oh, and by the way, you reek of pussy. Go shower or something.”
“So how’s your exams going?”
“They’re fine,” you lied through gritted teeth, slicing through the fish a lot harsher than you intended. The knife scraped against the plate and you winced at the sound, ignoring your father’s loud munching. “Not too much of a big deal. My professors are nice and my classmates are nice too. I’m fitting in really well and I think I’ll even come out on top of my class this time if it weren’t for that stupid little bastard…” your last words ended up as a whisper, eyes glazing to the side as you glared at nothing in particular.
“Stupid little what?”
“Nothing, nothing,” you waved your hand in the air, “Someone’s just distracting me from my studies, is all.”
At the mention of someone distracting your usually composed and unbothered self, your father straightened up in his seat, a large smile on his face that made him look younger than he really was. “Is it a guy? Do you finally have a boyfriend?”
“Ugh, dad, really, you’re the only father who’s so eager for his daughter to have a boyfriend. Shouldn’t you be more proud that, I don’t know, I’m pretty and smart? I don’t need a boyfriend or anything.”
Your father nodded, “True, you don’t need them, but trust me when I say life is going to get pretty lonely when you grow old and you’re all by yourself. It’s still better – and life is a lot happier – when you’ve got a stable supporting and loving figure in your life.”
“I have you for that.”
“And you always will,” he patted your hand gently across the table, “But a parent won’t always be there for their child, and if you’re still not prepared for the future or ready to stand on your own two feet, then that means I didn’t do a great job at raising you; that means I’ve failed as a parent. Tell me, have I failed? Have I raised my wonderful daughter to be so repulsed by the idea of love that she’s willingly closing her doors and locking herself away in isolation?”
“No…”
“I didn’t think so,” he grinned to himself, and you watched with a frown as his eyes crinkled in happiness. Your father was such the complete opposite of you; he was always so loving and open to everyone, while you were mopey and afraid of attachment.
“Don’t be too afraid to love, child. It’s one of the most wonderful things in this world – it’s a blessing – the absolute core of our being. Why do we exist if not to love?”
“Not everyone is a romantic like you, dad,” you sighed, “Plus…how is it so easy for you to finally find someone after Mom died? Isn’t she your soul mate?” you questioned, putting your fork and knife down as you looked your father in the eye. “I just can’t believe you’re getting married again.”
“It’s already been years since she passed away, Y/N. And yes, she is my soul mate, but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of loving someone again. Our hearts aren’t limited like that, and your mother wouldn’t want me to keep mourning her when she’s resting in peace,” he gestured to the both of you after swallowing his food, “She would’ve wanted the both of us to be happy.”
At the mention of your passed mother, your shoulders deflated, and your eyes watered at the thought of her kind smile. You wished you could see that again.
“I miss her…”
“I know, child, I know,” your father smiled encouragingly, “I also know the reason you’re so afraid to love is because you’re scared they’ll end up leaving you too, like how your mom just slipped past our fingers like that, but it’s only her body that withered. She’s still with us, right in our hearts and in our memories.”
“You really do sound like a lovesick fool.”
“That’s because I am,” your father laughed with a slap to his knees. When his phone buzzed for his alarm, he quickly dabbed a towel on his lips, standing up to excuse himself. “Now, this lunch was lovely and I dearly missed you, but I need to go back to work. We doctors just never get a break. This is a life you have to prepare for if you want to follow my footsteps.”
“I won’t follow your footsteps – I’ll surpass you.”
“I’ll be waiting for that to happen then,” he announced proudly; pride bursting in his chest at how determined his daughter was. “Oh, and Y/N?”
“Yes?” You squinted at the mischievous look in his eyes, wary of what your cunning father had in mind this time.
“You won’t outsmart me. You better bring a boyfriend or at least introduce someone to me on the wedding – or else I’m pulling you out of the university hospital.”
“Wha – Dad, that’s not fair!”
“All is fair in love and war, child, you’ll learn soon.”
“Oh, I just hate men!”
You really did hate men.
Your final exam was tomorrow already and you’d lost count of the coffee and Red Bull you’ve inhaled today, all so you could study one last time for the test, but no, something – or rather someone – just had to get in your way.
“I’ve had enough,” you announced before slamming your door open; not hesitating as your fists came banging down on your neighbor’s door. “Hey! Keep it the fuck down – someone’s trying to study here! Seriously, man, is it really that hard for you to keep it in your pants for one night? This is what, the sixth woman you’ve had around the past four days? Don’t you get tired? Because I sure as hell am very tired of you!”
The moans and the sounds of bed creaking stopped. For a moment, you almost smirked to yourself when they fell silent.
If only you knew it would be that easy to shut them up, you would’ve done so long ago. You were about to turn back into your room when his door swung open, and you were met by his sweaty and muscular chest heaving up and down – either in anger or from his previous activities – you couldn’t tell.
Your throat felt dry as you peered at him under your lashes, almost afraid of the way he loomed over you. Thank goodness he found the time to wear pants, though, because had he been baby naked, you would’ve run for the hills already.
His dark eyes cut through yours as he seethed, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m the one who wants to ask you that,” you were surprised to find your voice despite the way your pussy actually ached just by the sight of his chiseled body, but when you did, you forced yourself to stand up taller, refusing to back down from his gaze. “It’s literally three in the morning and you’re about to fuck a hole through my wall!”
“I thought you said you’d be crashing at your friends. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to have your permission to come back home. Next time, I’ll give you a heads-up, good sir. And for your information, unlike you, I actually don’t like bothering the people around me so I came home. Now would you please kick her out and shut the fuck up for once?”
“Babe, are you coming back here or what?”
Red acrylic nails wound from his body out of nowhere, and your mouth fell open as you watched the naked woman press kisses on the blades of his shoulder. You were conflicted, torn between feeling jealous that she got to touch him like that because damn was he fine, but you also felt appalled your neighbor would be this type of person.
“Babe?” you repeated with a sarcastic laugh.
Stepping away from your neighbor’s tempting pecs, you waved to the stunning woman behind him. “Hi, I’m his neighbor, I don’t mean to be a cock block or anything but I’ve been a witness to his fuckboy ways for months now. If you think you’re special to him, I assure you, you’re not. Yesterday he was just banging two girls until the sunrise. If you’re really as sane as I hope you are, I suggest you skedaddle before this man feeds you with more lies. You’re not special, hun, he’s just going to fuck everything that walks on two legs.”
“Is that true?”
“Nadia, you know how this works—”
“I was literally just on the phone with you last night!” the woman named Nadia pushed him away, but because he was bigger, he didn’t budge. Nadia turned to you, her lipstick smudged and a suspicious white stain on the edge of her lips. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look down her head, and you and your neighbor both watched as she got dressed and left, hands up in the air. “Thank you for this. I should’ve known better than to waste time and money on him.”
You snickered as Nadia pressed on the elevator buttons, a scowl sent his way. Turning to him with pride swelling up in your chest, you smirked, “How does it feel—”
“Happy now?” he growled, his eyes so dark and slit into tiny cuts you took a step back, your heart pumping frantically for different reasons. You never thought he’d be this bothered for not being able to bust a nut. “Satisfied now, Y/N? Do you even realize what you’ve just done?”
“Uhm, yes,” you scoffed, matching his tone. “I just saved that poor girl’s life. Who else knows what you would’ve done and said to her. We don’t deserve to be looked down on and treated like this, you know.”
“Neither did I. I’m just doing my job.”
“Job? You don’t even have a job! You don’t even go to university for fuck’s sake – your apartment is rundown and smells like sour cunt and feet! Maybe you should even thank me because I’m trying to give you ideas on better things to do!”
“Yeah, and be like you?” he snapped, tugging at the strings of your hoodie until you fell a step forward. “Dressed in loose shirts to hide the fact you’ve got no tits and your ass is flatter than your back? Lying to her neighbor that she’ll crash somewhere but ends up waddling back home anyway because she’s always cooped up in her apartment studying to prove that she’s not as worthless as she is and that she doesn’t have a life or friends to begin with?” tears pooled at your eyes at his words, and you knew it hurt because it was true, but did he really have to say it that way?
However, his anger got the best of him, and he didn’t stop there. “I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to skip meals and lose sleep studying for something I don’t care about because I don’t know anything else other than following daddy’s footsteps so he’d notice me more than his new bride. I’m happy with my life.”
“How did—”
“Like you said, the walls are thin. You’re not exactly so quiet to yourself, neighbor. It’s kind of pathetic you talk to the walls when you think I’m asleep because you’ve got no one else to talk to.”
Hands balled into fists at your side, you stood on your tiptoes to spit the words out. “You’re a terrible human being,” no matter how much you tried to exert dominance over him, your lips still quivered as you fought back the urge to cry. “Go fuck yourself.”
“You’re the one who needs to go fuck yourself and get laid,” he didn’t let you have another word as he slammed the door in your face, but you still heard him through the door anyway. “Uptight bitch.”
You were wrong.
Your neighbor wasn’t just difficult – he was completely impossible.
[Dad:] Don’t forget your date!
[You:] Dad…don’t push it.
[Dad:] I find it hard to believe my beautiful daughter can’t have one. Go out there and make some friends, Y/N, I know you isolate yourself too much. It doesn’t even have to be a boyfriend. You could date a girl for all I care. I just don’t want you to be too bored at the wedding. Bring a friend.
[You:] Fine, fine, okay.
[Dad:] But a boyfriend would still be better. Your old man isn’t getting any younger and I want grandkids in the future.
[You:] Dad!
[Dad:] love ya kid !
And so it was the turn of your events that had you groaning in your swiveling chair, the grip on your phone so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up breaking it. As if your week couldn’t get any more horrible with your neighbor’s hurtful words still living at the back of your mind, your father hadn’t stopped talking about you to his co-workers and his equally crazy mother that your grandmother didn’t waste time in calling you.
You loved your nan, you really did, but more often than not, she was much more of a pain in the ass than your father was. The old woman was ruthless, shooting you question by question on why her pretty granddaughter was still single, then came the demeaning comments of how you “weren’t living life to the fullest.”
Frustration eating away at you, you let out a silent scream.
The escort site blinked back at you mockingly, temptingly, as if to remind you that your problems could easily be solved with just a click. You chastised yourself for always having the need to solve problems fast and as easily as you could, because before you even realized what you were doing, your heart started beating a mile a minute as the other line kept ringing.
You ended up lying to your grandmother that yes, nan, I have a boyfriend, can I study for my exams now please, to which the pressing woman responded with, oh, finally! well, I won’t bother you anymore. study well, my dear, I can’t wait to see him!
Just thinking about how she would react if you came alone at your father’s wedding had you breaking out in a sweat, and you chewed at your nails while waiting for the site to pick up.
You were truly desperate now, so much so that you were actually calling a rental boy site.
“Good afternoon, thank you for calling Kamo Escorts! I’m Ijichi, here to assist you. What can I help you with?”
You held back a really painful cringe, biting the insides of your cheek as you got your heart to calm down. “Uhm, yeah…so this is like my first time c-calling a site like this and I don’t know what to do but…yeah.”
“I see, we get new callers too. Would you like a guide?”
“Yes, please, that’d be great thank you.”
“Kamo Escorts is all about, well, as you can see on our webpage – we have men and even women you can hire to escort you on special events. We mostly cater to clients who only need a pretty face to dangle off their arm for social company or even care, or whatever reasons the client may have and the relationship is purely business and professional, but in some cases, the escorts may have sex with the client too under the condition they are paid more.”
The gasp that left your lips was barely stifled, and you furrowed your brows at the implication. “Wh-what, so that’s like a real thing? Isn’t this…?”
Ijichi chuckled from the other line, almost as if he’d been asked this question many times before. “In a way, it is, which is why Kamo Escorts is commercially advertised for purely social company only. You may, however, negotiate with your escort if you would like more services, but we do require that you keep our escorts’ dignity and not look down on them. The service we provide may not be your typical honorable one, but we are dedicated and equally eager to be of service to this society. Should we find that you’re dehumanizing or harassing our escort, we won’t hesitate to…take some action,” the light warning of his tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and Ijichi took note of your hesitant silence. “Would you still like to proceed?”
“Ye-yeah, I didn’t want the sex anyway.”
“Very well, then. What event are we looking for?”
“It’s for a relative’s wedding,” you supplied, “I need a date.”
“Any preference in escorts? Male, female, tall, short, sociable or introverted?”
Your eyes widened, your back flattening against your chair. “Oh, wow, so this is like a Build-A-Bear, okay, wait,” you chewed your nails again, racking up on your mind on who or what exactly you liked. “My ideal guy is…someone tall, and has pretty broad shoulders…I think I prefer a more introverted one too because people with too much energy sort of drains me…and someone caring and attentive, yes. Handsome too – but if that’s too much to ask for then—”
“It’s okay, Miss. I assure you all our escorts are definitely blessed in the gene department.”
At his confidence, you scrunched your nose and made yourself small on your chair. “Okay, but now that you say it, if he’s too handsome then I’m going to look like a potato next to him.”
“We’ll find someone compatible for you; we always never fail to please our clients. We’ll be able to match you with a more suitable escort if you’re more descriptive with what you want.”
“Okay, okay,” you continued, “Oh, and I like guys with long hair too, but really, anything is fine. I just want someone to effortlessly pretend they’re enamored after just one date and that they’re very glad to be there with me on the wedding. It’s even better if they’re introverted but can communicate well and isn’t shy at all. My relatives are kind of…freaky.”
Freaky couldn’t even begin to describe the chaos of your relatives.
In fact, had you not been paying for this service, you would’ve almost felt bad for the guy. He had no idea what he had coming for him – but then again, neither did you.
“I think we’ve got just the perfect guy for you,” Ijichi answered after a beat, “May I ask when is this event and how long you’d like to book the escort service for?”
“The event is in two weeks. I don’t need to meet him before the wedding because I’m very busy with exams, so I hope this guy can just act really well. As for the duration…I think just one day is enough. After the wedding, I’m coming right back home.”
“Convenient then,” he mused to himself, and you heard slight clicking from his side. “Let’s see…someone introverted and able to communicate well…definitely not Satoru, and his entirely booked by sugar mommies too…” Ijichi whispered to himself, followed by a slight humorous snort. “One last question: would you like someone older, younger, or the same age as you?”
“I’m in uni – I’d be more comfortable if they were closer to my age.”
“Oh, perfect, his schedule is oddly open for the whole month. Wonder what happened, he’s barely had free slots before…” the man was speaking to himself again, and you sat there pouting, even more dumbfounded at how this whole process worked.
Ijichi talked about this escort service and guided you so easily you almost couldn’t believe that it was as…simple as that. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but deep down in your mind, you were waiting for something fishy or weird to happen.
“I found someone for you. He’s one of our best escorts and I believe he’ll be great for this event. However, due to privacy issues, the disclosure of contacts and personal information can only happen once the escort agrees to this service. We’ll shortly get back to you if he’s up for the job. If not, I’ll find you another one quickly; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Okay, thank you so much!”
“It’s our pleasure. Thank you for contacting Kamo Escorts – we hope to see you again!”
Once the call ended, you fell back on your bed with a sigh. Your neighbor wasn’t around the whole day, leaving you in peace and silence, and you took advantage of the rare quietness by pulling out a book. Hours passed, and you were nearly finished with half the textbook, fingers slightly numb from practicing sutures over and over again when your phone lit up with a text.
It came from an unknown number, but the words were loud and clear. Hey, this is Choso, I’ll be your escort for the wedding. Please text me here for the details and what else you expect from my service. I’m only a text and call away, please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything else.
You blinked at your phone, unsure of how to process the whole thing.
So it was official now – you rented an escort and you had a date for the event. Quite frankly, you were kind of expecting that escorts would be a lot more…flirtatious or even eager to please, but this Choso guy sounded too formal for you to picture yourself having this stranger be a good company for your event. Ijichi sounded so sure though that you no longer questioned it; smiling instead now that you’ve finally solved one of your problems.
Life felt a lot easier.
At around four in the morning, you were too worn out to keep going. Your exam was in the afternoon so you still had plenty of time to sleep, your stomach grumbled, prompting you to leave your unit to get some snacks.
Keys in hand and feet cold in your socks, you locked your door, halting in your steps when you saw your neighbor. Different from his usual comfortable clothing, he was dressed in a formal white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his large, masculine hands coming up to loosen his tie. He wasn’t aware of your presence, almost blindly walking to his door and sighing. You didn’t miss the fact his shoulders were slumped, and he looked absolutely worn out.
For a moment, you actually felt worried, until you remembered what he said to you.
“What, no pussy to fuck tonight?”
He froze in front of his door for a moment, slightly tilting back to see your aggravated stance. Upon seeing it was just you, he shook his head and turned back to unlock his door. “No thanks to you.”
“Aw, did I ruin your reputation?” you mocked sarcastically, “I’m surprised people aren’t smart enough to pick up the smell of women’s perfume on you already. Seriously, are people that desperate for touch?” It was ironic; you’d never admit it, but you weren’t any better than them. You were equally desperate to be touched despite your aversion to romantic relationships, but he didn’t need to know that.
“It’s normal when you’re someone people are naturally attracted to. Not that you’d get it, of course, because it’s clear you don’t get some.”
“At least my apartment doesn’t smell like pussy.”
“At least I don’t masturbate every night then pass out after one weak orgasm.”
Your cheeks burned at his offhanded comment, and even with his back turned to you, you could see the slight smile tugging at his cheeks. He must’ve felt so cocky, thinking that he’d defeated you, so you blurted out the most intelligent thing possible: “How dare you!” while grabbing onto his shoulders to make him face you. “Look me in the eye and take that back!”
“Whatever you’re planning,” he crooned, head tilted to the side and making strands of his bangs fall over his eyes. He looked absolutely handsome under the flickering lights of the hallway in that moment, and you hated how you weren’t able to take your hands off of his strong shoulders, his masculine and spicy perfume clouding your mind. “It’s not going to work. Surprise surprise, but you’re not as cute as you think you are.”
Your eyes burned with fire, the nerves in your body so closing to popping. He infuriated you so much. “And you’re not as sexy as you believe you are!”
“Oh, yeah?” The positions are suddenly switched as he cornered you beside his doorframe, both of his arms planted beside your head. Because he was taller, he had to lean down to look you in the eye, his warm, minty breath brushing over your lips. You stared at him with wide eyes, fingers raking over the wall in a silent attempt to flee. Upon seeing your pursed lips, he laughed.
“Then why are you so shaky? Do I make you nervous?” his head dipped down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Say…you only pretend to hate me, but you actually wish it was you I’m fucking every night, don’t you? Tell me…do you touch yourself when you hear me eating someone out?”
“I-I’m not—”
Before you could combust under his gaze, he pulled himself away from you, a satisfied smirk on his face at your flustered state. He chuckled lowly, keys spinning on his thick finger. “I was just teasing you, princess. No need to get so worked up.”
“I never want you near me again!”
He raised both brows as if to challenge you, and you knew from the glint in his eyes he was up to no good. “Princess, you jumped on me first.”
“I didn’t!” You shouted, immediately slapping your palm over your lips after realizing people were sleeping. He snickered at your reactions, and you pushed past him back to your unit, suddenly losing the appetite to get your precious snacks. “God, I hate you so much.”
“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”
Difficult. Unbelievable. Complicated. Idiotic. Nothing was ever easy with him.
“Would you stop fidgeting?” your father scolded from his chair, his body barely moving as the stylists fixed his hair and makeup, but his eyes glared at you from the mirror. “You’re a lot more nervous than I am, and it’s my wedding.”
“Sorry, I can’t help it.”
Your father sighed to himself, standing up after they were done with him. He checked his appearance in the mirror for a while, nodding to himself in satisfaction. It was still a little surreal that he was going to get married again, to a woman half his age of all people, but he was happy, and his bride seemed to really love him too, so you no longer questioned your father’s decisions. He was an adult, anyway, he could make his own decisions.
“You’re waiting for your boyfriend, you say?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s he like?”
You stiffened at the question. Not wanting your sharp-eyed father to pick up on the smallest cues, you lied through your teeth despite not having any idea on who or what kind of person the escort was.
Other than discussing details of how you two supposedly met, conversations had been crisp and short. You were lucky that the escort seemed to be nice and smart enough to not always ask you to explain everything, and he was crisp and curt in his texts too. No flirty or suggestive messages, not even a single emoji. He seemed a little stiff, and while you worried if you could fake chemistry with someone who seemed like a wall, you were also assured by the fact he wasn’t some creep.
“Nice. He’s sweet. You’ll like him.”
“And when did you meet him?”
“Dad, do I have to tell this story all over again?” you groaned, “We met after exams, he goes to a different uni and he studies law—”
“Law. Impressive.”
“Of course you’re impressed,” you rolled your eyes. Coming from a family of doctors and engineers, your father, and pretty much everyone else in the family, also expected that you’d date someone who was equally intelligent and had enough connections in different industries at least. It just so happened you were really lucky your escort also really did study law for a bit before he became an escort; a detail you never got enough explanation for. “He’ll be here anytime soon. Just you wait.”
In reality, you were the one who couldn’t wait.
You were excited and nervous at the same time to see this mysterious escort, and you were in the middle of talking to your father and his bride when someone called you.
“Y/N?”
You turned around with a bright grin. That must be him! You clasped at the hems of your dress so you could meet this mysterious, rigid man properly, but the moment your eyes met his equally startled gaze, you choked on your own breath. “Y-you—”
Choso stood before you; handsome as ever in his suit and tie, his iconic twin tails still there. How ever would your father believe you now that he was a lawyer, especially with his messy hair and face tattoo? You loved it and found it sexy on him, no denying that, but your father was a little bit more traditional. But that aside, it was Choso?!
His professionalism arose and he regained his composure quicker than you did, the smile on his face so natural and alluring even you almost fell for it.
Choso wrapped an arm around your waist before kissing you on the cheek, and the skin felt extremely hot under his lips. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak, because Choso was pressed flush against you, and he looked at you with stars shining in his eyes you didn’t know whether to be flattered or afraid.
Maybe a fucked up mix of both.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad,” he explained with a small smile on his lips, and he looked so handsome and smelled so good in that moment you were left gaping at him as he bowed to your father, arm politely extended. “You must be Y/N’s father. It’s very nice to meet you sir. I’m her boyfriend, Choso.”
To your surprise, your father eagerly shook his hand with the brightest grin he’d worn the whole night before he faced you with a laugh. “No way,” he beamed, gesturing to Choso. “He’s your boyfriend? You managed to snag this fine man?”
“Dad!” your ears burned with embarrassment. Choso only laughed; making you painfully aware of his large, warm hand resting at the small of your back.
“I heard you’re a lawyer, son?”
“Yes, sir.”
Your father nodded in approval, the two exchanging over words about what his plans were for the future and how his studies were going. You stood there with a pounding heart, fearful that Choso could fuck up any moment, but he was so effortless and easy going. Had you not been the one paying him, you would’ve been fooled too.
So this was the life of an escort.
“So how much did my daughter pay you?”
“Dad, I didn’t—”
“I mean, there’s no way she actually charmed you with her non-existent social skills. My daughter here can’t even talk to someone and look them in the eye, much less ask someone out, so how did this happen?”
Choso laughed at your father’s lighthearted comment, saving the day for what seemed like the hundredth time already. “I approached her first, sir. We were both eating in this small diner and it was cramped, so we shared tables and started conversation,” Suddenly, his grip tightened on you as he pulled you closer, your ear now resting above the lulling and steady beating of his heart. How was he so calm?
He lightly squeezed your hip and it had you freezing under his touch, stiffening even more when he looked down at you so adoringly. “Guess it went downhill from there.” God, you had no idea who this man was.
“Really? What did you guys talk about?”
Choso opened his mouth to speak, but it was there, that damned glint on those dark eyes again that you clutched at his bicep. He may be damn good at this job, but knowing Choso, he was enjoying this way too much.
Anything you couldn’t predict or control properly was a huge no in your game, and you pulled Choso away before he could say something downright humiliating.
“Dad, just go focus on your wedding. I want to spend time with my boyfriend, okay?” You couldn’t even begin to fathom the inward cringe upon your words, the feeling only worsening when Choso fought back a laugh masked with a cough. Before your father could say anything else, you dragged Choso rather harshly, but he didn’t mind; he followed you obediently. “Come with me. I need to talk to you,” You didn’t stop until you were both alone in a desolated corner, and finally, you hissed at him. “What are you doing here?!”
“I should be asking you the same thing – but it turns out you’re my client.”
“Client? So you really are my escort?”
“Yes, I am.”
“So those women…”
“All my clients,” he confirmed your thoughts. “I assure you they knew what they were getting into. In fact, they were the ones who asked for that special service that caused you to lose your sleep every night. That woman the other day was just pissed because she booked me for three days, but I lied that I was available until the duration she wanted when I wasn’t.”
“You mean you were still working an escort for somebody else?”
He shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“Why did you lie then?”
“It’s more money,” Choso stared down at his hands before his eyes flitted back up to yours, his face unreadable. “I’m saving up so I can move somewhere else. Our apartment isn’t exactly the most ideal considering my profession. I need to find someplace quieter with thicker walls this time,” he smiled, “That way, I’ll no longer bother my sweet neighbor,” your lips felt dry at his words, your tongue darting out to lick at them while Choso scrutinized you under his gaze.
“I have to admit though – you asking for escort service is the last thing I’d ever imagine you doing. Not that I’m complaining since it’s still money in my pocket, but you’re not the most pleasing company to be with.”
“Oh, you bet, Choso. Had I known you were going to be my escort, I would’ve declined long ago,” you groaned, your head dropping in your hands. “What was Ijichi thinking when he said I would be compatible with you?”
“You’re not,” he stated, “But I am compatible with you – as I am with pretty much everyone else. I’m one of the best escorts, and soon you’ll see why.”
You didn’t understand what he meant by then, but it seemed Choso was quite eager to show his skills off when he dragged you back inside the reception event. The whole time, you couldn’t pay attention to anything or anyone else other than Choso. It still felt hard to believe that the whole time, he really was doing his job, and upon seeing how easily he had people believing you two were an item despite you just standing silently beside him, you felt guilty that you disrupted his “work” like that.
Guilt gnawed at you as Choso made everyone laugh, and soon your relatives were cooing, praising you and congratulating you that you were “happy” now.
Back then, you always looked down on him and even called him a mere fuckboy, but Choso was so much more than that. He was intelligent; his past as a lawyer proved that, and whatever happened that caused him to work in this industry kept lingering in your mind.
There was no denying it now.
You respected this man – admired him even.
“And now it’s time to join the newly married couple on the dance floor! Come on, people, bring your dates up here for a twirl!”
You remained planted in your seat, too comfortable with Choso’s jacket draped around your bare shoulders. You’d lost count of how many times your head ducked down for the lack of sleep, and as much as you loved your dad, you wanted nothing more than to go home and rest.
Choso offered his hand to yours, a teasing smile on his face. He wriggled his eyebrows up and down, and he looked so utterly ridiculous that you couldn’t believe the boring man you were texting was the same infuriating yet undeniably attractive bastard who was your neighbor was the same fun. The world is very small, it seemed, and you weren’t sure whether you were brave enough to venture these strange places and feelings.
“Uh-uh. No. I’m not dancing.”
“Two left feet?”
“No, I’m wearing heels. My feet hurts.”
“Then take it off.”
“And get my feet dirty?” you scoffed. As if to prove your point, you snuggled deeper into his jacket that smelled heavenly like him, closing your eyes as you pretended to sleep. “Sitting here isn’t so bad. Plus, look at them, all staring at each other with goo-goo eyes. It’s revolting,” you shuddered.
Through the sickeningly romantic music playing in the background, Choso fell silent. You cracked an eye open, frowning when Choso studied each of your features carefully. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You seem to hate the idea of love.”
“Because it’s pointless.”
Choso narrowed his eyes at your answer, brows bunching up at the way your shoulders squared to keep yourself away. Then, he stood up and sighed, offering his hand to you once more.
“I won’t really ask you to explain why, because frankly, I don’t care,” you stared at his large palms for a few seconds. There must be a ghost possessing your body because you looped your fingers through his and allowed him to guide you on the dance floor despite your mind’s protests, and soon, Choso’s eyes were all over you. “But if you don’t want your money to go down the drain and you really want to convince everyone, I suggest you forget about that mindset for just a few more hours,” his voice dropped down to a low whisper, his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes turned solemn, his hand on your waist gentle. “Dance with me. Let’s show them how madly in love we are with each other.”
“We met just last week, remember?”
“Love at first sight, princess,” Choso kissed your forehead, sending your heart thumping and running to another dimension. Oddly enough, you didn’t mind, and your hands travelled from his strong arms to his broad shoulders instinctively. “Take your heels off. You can step on my feet and I’ll dance for us both. Just put your arms around my neck – yes just like that,” he nodded with a smile when your fingertips nervously played with his hair, and Choso began to dance you both in time with the music. “Are you good?”
“I don’t like this lack of space between us.”
Choso smirked, “Why, do I get you all hot and bothered?”
“Jesus, Choso, you can’t be serious for a minute, huh?”
“It’s kind of hard to be serious when you’re so flustered and adorable right now,” you pulled at his hair in response, but of course, he wasn’t really hurt.
“Look at me,” he demanded, but you refused, keeping your gaze planted on your bare feet on top of his again. “Hey. I said look at me,” he tilted your chin up until you’re forced to be like prey under his gaze, his breath tickling the bow of your lips. “I am your escort for tonight – and I humbly ask that you do your part as my client so I can perform my job well. I need you to look into my eyes and pretend you’re in love with me.”
“I don’t want to fall in love with anyone,” you suddenly admitted, “I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be,” he replied, softly this time, and his hands ran down tenderly to your hips to pull you closer to him. “I’ll be there to catch you.”
You couldn’t remember who leaned in first. The only thing you remembered was that the music faded in the background when you kissed him – or maybe he kissed you – fuck, you didn’t really remember. Eventually, the kiss grew too heated, his hands squeezing your waist while you moan at the taste of chocolate and wine on his expert tongue.
Choso easily read your mind and swooped you away from the crowd, the both of you stumbling until you made it out to the venue and onto the beach.
The salty air kissed your skin while Choso carried you bridal style, arms looped around his neck while he kept moving his lips above yours. He was laughing through the kiss with how messy and eager you were, tugging at his shirt to encourage him to unbutton it. Choso set you both down on the darker, isolated part of the beach where nothing but the sound of waves lapping against one another could be heard with your breathless pants and his chuckles.
You were lying on his jacket, dress bunched up to your chest while your legs were spread wide open for him. “Ch-Choso,” you choked out when his tongue ran flat across your slick folds, his hands keeping your hips pinned down to the sand. “I-I, please.”
“I got you, princess,” was all he said before he completely dived into your heat, his sharp nose brushing into your cunt.
It didn’t take long until you were spasming in his hold, legs closing around his head. Choso groaned into your pussy, a finger working its way inside your sopping cunt while he licks and slurps your arousal like it was fucking water. Now you understood why those girls always lost their mind – Choso was a fucking expert when it came to worshipping pussy.
Choso pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness, but he was kind, eager to please you that he immediately replaced it with his tongue.
You cried out when you felt his tongue entering your hole, one thumb pulling the hood of your lips up to reveal your sensitive pearl. Choso rubbed your clit fervently, his other hand reaching up to squeeze and tug at your breasts while he drank your juices dripping down his tongue as if you would be his last meal – and he honestly wished you were, because you tasted like heaven on him and he wanted more.
Once he felt you clamping down on his tongue so tightly he struggled to retrieve his warm muscle back, he helped you reach your high by pinching your clit. You moaned out his name, the sound sending blood straight down his cock, and he groaned into your pussy the moment you grinded on his face as you relaxed from your orgasm.
Choso didn’t give you the chance to recover from your orgasm, pulling you up to his lap before he’s kissing you again. You moaned when you tasted yourself on his tongue, his face and cheeks sweet from your arousal and cum.
You should be ashamed, but you couldn’t find a single bone in your body that felt shy right now. Choso was right – there was no point in being shameful when it came to your pleasure.
The kiss was sloppy, more tongue than lips and teeth clashing onto another. Choso grinded you on his hardened erection in search of your heat that would bring him relief, but he slowed down and pulled away from you, a string of saliva connected from your lips. He wanted you – wanted to fuck you so badly – so he searched your eyes for the answer when you aligned the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Is this okay? Are you sure with this?”
“Yeah,” you gritted your teeth when his tip entered your tight cunt, your walls sucking him in greedily already. Choso’s head dropped down to your shoulder, his teeth sinking down to your shoulder. You slowly sat down on his thick length, but then froze before he could bottom out. “Wait, no, I’m broke! I can’t pay for your extra services!”
“It’s free for you, princess,” he rasped out, “Now sit on my lap so I can feel you around me already.”
“Do you always have to be so vulgar?”
Through the pleasure that had his abs rippling, Choso managed a laugh. “You might want to get used to it.”
“Why would I?” you breathed out, eyes shutting tight once he fully slid into you. He allowed you to get used to the sudden stretch; it had been too long since you’ve been touched this way that you were impossibly tight around him right now. Your chest rose and fall with each faltering breath, your nails running down his back when Choso gave a deep, experimental thrust that immediately hits your sweet spot.
You moaned, cheek resting on his shoulder as Choso set the pace, squeezing your ass as he bounced you up and down his cock. “You’re gone after this. Once this contract is over, you’re moving away and I won’t get to see you anymore. I-I won’t lose sleep anymore after hearing you fuck all those women and gosh, I hate you so much, you know that?”
“I hated you too,” he groaned through your skin, “Or at least, that’s what I told myself so I wouldn’t get hurt.”
“Hurt? I would never hurt you,” Really, you praised yourself for still being able to form coherent sentences even after Choso kept fucking into you.
“I’m an escort, princess, I’m everybody’s and nobody’s at the same time,” he explained almost angrily, and his lips zealously sucked love bites to the sensitive flesh of your neck, “Even if you won’t hurt me, we’re bound to crash and burn at some point. This is why we’re not allowed to get attached to anyone,” his lips brushed over her collarbone, his canines dragging along to make red marks. “Why we’re not allowed to fall,” he squeezed her breast in the palm of his hand, twisting the peaked nipple until you whined, hips bucking deeper into his cock. “Why we’re not allowed to love.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“I’ve always liked you,” he laughed through the pleasure, holding your hips down so he could drive his cock deeper into you. Yes, he was selfish, yes, he was frustrated – and his feelings burst through the way Choso powered into you. You fell limp in his arms and he easily caught you like he always did, his eyes blown wide as he stared right into your eyes, his dick still pummeling through your gummy walls.
Choso inhaled sharply when you clenched down on him, an elongated moan spilling past your lips. “I liked you the moment you moved in and you fell flat on your face before you could greet me.”
“Shut up, don’t remind me of that!” you raked your nails down his back hard enough to draw blood, and Choso concealed the pain with light chuckle, the pain only prompting him to absolutely use you. “You’re seriously bringing it up now when you’re – ah, fuck – b-buried in me?”
Choso tugged at one of your legs and wrapped it around his waist, the sudden change of angle had you pressing down deeper into him. It felt like you were sinking closer and closer to his cock, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix until you’re crying out in his arms, scratches evident on his back.
“For now,” he breathed out, “I want to at least be selfish enough to want you now, just for now if fate won’t still allow it.”
“W-we can try,” you said in your lust-filled gaze, lips crashing down messily to his while you bounced on him, your hips slamming down at the same to meet his thrusts. “It’s not going to be easy, but we can try, right?” You cupped his face, surprised with the sudden vulnerability from his hooded eyes, looking so innocent and beautiful as if he wasn’t painting your insides white.
“Okay,” he nodded, brows pinching together. And that was all the both of you needed before Choso sank his fangs down the column of your neck to hold on his low groans; your head thrown back as you both drown in the pleasure of being with one another.
In the blink of an eye, all tenderness is Choso’s touches replaced by the hunger in his eyes and the power of his lust-filled thrusts. You were a moaning mess by the time your hips sit flat on his pelvic bone and his balls brush on your ass from how deep he was hitting you, and you felt his teeth nibble at the side of your breasts again as he warned, “But for now, I’m not going to go easy on you – not when I’ve wanted you for so long and I’ve been so hard for you these all time.”
And you allowed him. Because nothing was ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d try pushing through hell and back.
#choso x reader#choso smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines#choso x reader smut#choso x reader romance#choso x reader fluff#choso x reader imagines#choso fluff#choso romance#choso imagines#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen romance#jujutsu kaisen fics#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk smut#suki: 500 milestone event
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