#lime can read her really well and can bug her until she talks to him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toplinetommy · 3 years

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Kill My Lonely Nights - Tyson Jost

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

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

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

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

words: 20k+

warnings: alcohol, smut, unprotected sex

“Tyson, you know my neighbor right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You liked the squash, eh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think JT’s looking for you.”

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

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

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

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

“Does JT know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I talked to my mom this morning.”

“Yeah? How is she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is there to talk about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long has this been going on for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He literally tripped me in practice today!”

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

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

“But,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we talk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plus One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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lnc2 · 3 years

Text

this time next year

Summary: Marinette is worried about the future. Adrien wants to know where he fits into it.

A/N: This piece was written for the @mlwriterzine and I’m so excited to finally share this with you! I hope you enjoy it and also go check out the zine because there are so many amazing stories/art pieces collected there.

AO3

The party was well underway by the time Adrien knocked on Nino’s door. Alya was the one who answered, half of her face obscured by gold tin foil pinned to a green beret.

“Speak of the devil,” she grinned, leaning heavily on the door frame.

Adrien bussed her cheek and passed over the bottle of rosé he’d swiped from his father’s wine cellar. “Sorry, Alya. The show ran late. You know how those things go.”

She waved him in, whistling at the bottle in her hands, and shook her head. “Thankfully I don’t. Everyone’s in the living room.”

Adrien followed her into the kitchen instead, eyes straying over the tipsy, crowded apartment. Back against the wall, where Nino’s faded and cracked leather couch usually sat, was a long table covered in gold plastic sheeting. Green and gold hats of various styles were littered across, as well as glitter, rhinestones, netting, feathers, and any other number of crafting materials.

He smiled. “I see you’ve all started without me.”

“Naturally,” Alya said, putting his gift in the fridge to chill. “You’re several drinks behind us now, Agreste. Pick your poison.” She gestured to the half-empty bottles of liquor scattered across the bar.

“No tequila?”

She snorted. “You’ll have to track down Marinette for that one. She ran off with the bottle half an hour ago.”

Something warm filled his chest. “A cup of ice and a lime then.”

“Good luck with that,” Alya said, bumping his shoulder as she passed him the glass. Adrien laughed as he followed her into the living room, his smile widening as he spotted Kagami fussing with the green flowers on her gold newspaper hat.

“I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

Alya batted her hand away. “It’s tradition!”

She pressed her lips together. “It’s archaic.”

“Boo,” a familiar voice called from behind him. Adrien’s heart stuttered as a familiar pair of arms slipped around his waist. “It’s just for fun. No one takes it seriously.”

Adrien thought back to earlier in the evening and Gabriel’s annual Saint Catherine’s Day gala and couldn’t agree. There was a stark difference between the frivolousness and whimsy of Nino’s house party and the staid sobriety of his father’s fashion show.

As if reading his thoughts, Marinette’s eyes sparkled up at him beneath gold netting. “At least no one here.”

“Speak for yourself,” Alya said. She adjusted her hat and threw an accusatory look towards Nino. “Tick tock, babe.”

“You won’t let me propose until you’re out of grad school,” he whined.

Adrien hid his grin as the familiar argument ensued. Instead, he tipped his cup of ice towards the half-empty bottle in Marinette’s hand.

“You’re one of the few people I’d share with,” she said, filling his glass. Adrien leaned down to whisper his gratitude only to be pushed from the other side, causing them to knock heads.

Marinette laughed waving off his apologies with a squeeze to his waist even as their assaulter continued to elbow into the group.

“I’m never getting married,” Alix announced from her position on the back of one of Alya’s coworkers. There was a crown on her head but no decorations. She gestured wildly with her free hand. “Just call me Queen Catherinette.”

“All hail,” Alya said, clinking her wine glass against a reluctant Kagami’s. Her glassy eyes strayed towards Marinette. “What about you, girl? It’s been a while since I’ve heard about Emma, Louis, and Hugo.”

Adrien tried not to sound too interested when he asked, “Who?”

Marinette laughed, her flushed cheeks flushing further. “I’m afraid that future is on hold, Al. I need to find a boyfriend first.”

She removed her arm from around his waist then and Adrien had to restrain himself from pulling her back to his side. Instead, he took a healthy swallow of tequila and let the conversation drift into less turbulent waters.

Now was hardly the time to volunteer his name to the top of her list.

Adrien could think of two, maybe three very important conversations they needed to have before he could even approach that topic. The most pressing of which weighed heavy on his right hand and sparkled like precious gems on his lady’s ears.

He watched over the rim of his glass as Marinette giggled with the other women in their silly hats. One of them—Alix’s roommate, he thought—burst out with a jubilant, “For pity’s sake, give us a husband!” only for the others to raise their glasses with various tipsy rounds of, “Hear, hear!”

He smiled as Marinette wrestled Kagami’s fidgeting hands away from her hat. It had only been a few weeks since their reveal but Adrien was struggling to see how he could have missed the woman he’d loved for a decade in his dear and wonderful friend.

“Some party, huh?”

Adrien coughed as Nino slapped him on the back just as he was swallowing. Nino laughed at his accusing glare.

“Sorry man,” he said, grinning. “I thought you heard me coming but I guess you were distracted.”

Adrien ignored the teasing lilt in his friend’s voice.“It’s a good crowd,” he said instead. “I’m sorry I was so late.”

“No worries. Although if everything goes well hopefully this will be the last Saint Catherine’s party we’ll be hosting.”

Adrien laughed. “You think you’ll have worn Alya down by then?”

Nino shrugged. “Fingers crossed. I’ve had this ring burning a hole in my pocket for two months now.”

“Maybe you should be the one wearing the hat.” He grinned, only to receive a rough shove to his shoulder.

“You’re one to talk.”

Adrien pretended not to understand.

“Seriously, dude?” Nino shook his head. “You’re not that slick. If you like her you should just ask her out. I know for a fact she used to have a thing for you.”

And even though Adrien already knew that, even though Marinette told him so several years earlier when her crush was a thing of the past as she’d laughingly put it, hearing his heart’s desire put into words so matter-of-factly did things to him.

Things like make him want to punch a hole in the nearest wall or tear out his hair in frustration.

Because really, how was it fair that the one woman he’d spent years chasing had actually spent several years of her own chasing him right back?

It wasn’t.

Not when Adrien still found himself in the chase and she had apparently just … stopped.

“That was a long time ago, Nino.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

“... Why?” Adrien stared, stomach clenching. “Did she say something? Did Alya say something?”

His heart raced like hummingbirds wings in his throat as he tried to catch his friend’s gaze.

Adrien grabbed his shoulder and shook. “Nino.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything.” He laughed, before hiding his smile behind his glass as they caught Alya’s attention across the room. Adrien met her suspicious frown with a wave even as his other hand tightened on Nino’s shoulder.

“But …?”

“But … I wouldn’t count myself out just yet.”

Adrien’s hand fell to his side as all of his breath rushed out of him. “Oh.”

“Although, that may change if you don’t do something about it. Sooner rather than later if Kim’s roommate is anything to go by.”

Nino nodded towards the corner of the room where Marinette was chatting with a tall brunette. He was leaning towards her, his fingers playing at the edge of the netting on her hat as he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Adrien was already halfway across the room when Nino shouted, “Good luck!”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do to break up their little tete-a-tete but he needn’t have worried. As soon as he was in her line of sight Marinette’s smile lit up like the Eiffel tower and there was little left for him to do other than introduce himself before the interloper tried his luck elsewhere.

“Come outside with me,” she said, tugging his arm. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Your fault,” Adrien said, happy to follow her anywhere. “You canceled patrol.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You know I had to finish up those pieces for your father’s show.”

“At least you weren’t forced to go.”

She laughed and leaned back against the balcony railing. It was cooler than usual tonight as fall slowly gave way to winter and they had the little patio all to themselves. “Perks of being a lowly intern.”

“Please,” he said, bumping her shoulder. “You’ll be a junior designer by next year.”

She hummed, taking a swig of tequila from the bottle only to cough as it hit the back of her throat.

“You can mix that with something you know?”

His lady winced and took another sip, smaller this time. “Who has time for that?”

“You if you’d just slow down.”

It was only half a joke. Lately, even before their Big Reveal, Adrien noticed something changing in Marinette. She was a little less scattered, a little more single-minded. There was almost a frenzied focus about her, like some great fear was nipping at her heels, spurring her forward.

It wasn’t until her timer ran out during an akuma attack that he began to understand why.

“It was ten years this September,” she murmured, turning out to face the cobbled streets below.

Adrien hesitated before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side.

“We’ll get him, bug. I promise.”

“But when, Chat?” She started to lean her head against his shoulder only for her hat to get in the way. Frustrated, she ripped the little masterpiece off her head and crushed it in her hands.

“Stupid holidays aside, I do want a life, Adrien.” She ripped lightly at the netting. “You said I’ll make junior designer by next year? I don’t see how that’s possible when I’m running out of work every other day because someone couldn’t control their emotions.”

Her voice caught on the last word and he was horrified to realize she was crying. “I want to run my own business someday. I want –– I want to fall in love and get married and have babies.” She looked up, teary gaze meeting his. “How can I do anything when I always have one foot out the window waiting for the next catastrophe? Who could put up with that?”

“You’re not someone a person has to put up with, my lady.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Right. Tell that to my exes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because really that’s all he could do.

“Don’t be.” She sniffed, giving him a sad, sad smile. “You can’t do anything about it any more than I can.”

That wasn’t entirely true though.

Adrien turned his attention towards the scrunched up hat in her hands. Marinette followed his gaze and gave a watery laugh.

“I want it all, Adrien,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Do you?” she asked, eyes wide and blue and wet and angry. “Do you really?”

Adrien pulled her to him then, giving her the hug her fears deserved. Marinette clutched at his back, her arms sliding beneath his coat to wrap around his waist, giving as good as she got.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Tears stung his eyes and words, the right words, stuck in the back of his throat as she gave voice to desires he’d never been brave enough to even dream. Not when Ladybug said no and not when Marinette said not anymore and not when they merged and became everything he’d ever wanted but feared he’d never have.

She wanted it all.

Adrien closed his eyes and breathed in his lady’s perfume. Freesia and jasmine and something he’d never been able to name. Marinette’s arms loosened around his waist when it seemed like he would pull away, but Adrien only held her tighter.

“I––” He stopped. “You said you don’t want to slow down?”

Marinette nodded.

“Well … how—how would you feel about a chaser?”

She pulled away so she could see his face. “A chaser?” she repeated, frowning.

Adrien bit his lip, feeling heat rushing up his neck and ears. “Ah, yeah,” he said, doing his best to hold her gaze. “Like—like a partner. To your tequila, I mean.”

Adrien watched as confusion gave way to understanding in the form of a perfect little open-mouthed oh. His heart was pounding hard enough he was starting to suspect she could hear it when her eyes glistened up at him beneath the dim porch lights.

God help him but he couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t trust the gentleness in her gaze or the way her body went soft against his or the purse of her lips as she watched him with that pleased little half-smile as realization gave way to something and that something could only be called wonderful as she ducked her head beneath his chin, pressed her lips against the open collar skin of his neck and finally, finally whispered in that small, hopeful impatient way of hers,

“Are you volunteering?”

And even though he knew she knew and even though the question really didn’t require an answer, Adrien tightened his hold on her until they were swaying together chest to chest and repeated the only thing he’d ever wanted to give her.

Yes.

#miraculous ladybug #lnc2 writes #post reveal pre relationship #adrinette #ml writer zine #adrienette

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yannowhatigiveup · 3 years

Text

My One And Only - Chapter 13

Previous | Next | Master List

So this chapter is probably as long as the first, maybe just a word or two longer idk idk. This story here has nearly caught up where I am right now so the updates will be less frequen, I’m also starting school again so yeah. The one-shot that I’m writing is nearly at 10k words and it’s not even that good-

"God, you really are an Angel". The blush on her face was very noticeable. She smiled at him before using her yo-yo to bring her to the akumatized victim. He watched as her silhouette jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Once she was out of sight, Damian looked back at the sunset. He chuckled to himself. "I guess when you bumped into me the other day, you gave me some of your Lady Luck".

———————————————————

"Wait wait wait, take two steps back." Chloe put both her hands up in confusion. "So you went to Andre's and what were the flavors that she got?"

"She got dark honey, lime and rose" Kagami answered.

"But he never explained the meaning behind them, which he always does" Alya added. Alya, Chloe and Kagami were in the blonde's room talking about the ice cream 'date' they went on with Marinette the other day.

"That reminds me, Alya?" Kagami asked. "Do you still think the ice cream represents Chat Noir?"

Chloe just blinked in surprise. "No, I met the guy recently" Alya replied. "He's perfect for her. Actually I should text him to see how Mari's doing" Alya took her phone out as Kagami nodded slowly. Chloe still looked like she was trying to wrap her head around the whole situation.

"So Mare-Bare has a crush on this 'foreign exchange student' and Alya met him the other day?" Kagami nodded, slightly amused at the blonde's confusion. "Do you think he likes her back?" Her question was both directed at Kagami and Alya who was still on her phone.

"Yeah I'm sure he does- wait he sent something" Alya let out a squeal of fangirlism as Chloe and Kagami went over to see what Alya was gushing over. Once the two girls came over, The reporter showed them a photo that got sent to her. It was Marinette, sound asleep on what Kagami and Chloe thought was the boy's chest. She was smiling and looked at peace.

"They look adorable~" Chloe cooed, having the same bright smile as Alya.

"He better not hurt Mari-hime" Kagami muttered, a soft smile appearing on her face as she looked at the photo.

~~~

"Pound it!"

Ladybug and Chat Noir managed to defeat the villain, it was Sandboy again. He was at a sleepover and some of his friends told a scary story, and the rest was common knowledge. Ladybug was about to yo-yo out of there but Chat Noir stopped her before she could do so.

"Ladybug, wait"

'This can't be good, he barely ever sounds this serious' She wrapped the yo-yo back around her waist before answer. "Kitty, is something wrong?"

"Well-" he was cut-off by the sound of his miraculous beeping.

"We can talk about this next time, ok?". After he hesitantly nodded, Ladybug got her yo-yo. "Bug out!"

She landed in an alley near Le Grand Paris and de-transformed. Marinette then took the opportunity to process what happened. 'Lila said something bad, I got upset, I went to Damian's, He took me on a walk, We kissed, He asked me to be his girlfriend, I showed him I was Ladybug, I-' her train of thoughts stoppped. "Oh my god, I told him I was Ladybug" she breathed. Her kwami then flew in front of her face. "OhmygodohmygodiamsososososorryTikkiididn'tmean-"

"It's perfectly fine Marinette!" The bluenette was was cut off by Tikki's giggling. "There's something about that lover of yours, I can't quite place it but I know we can trust him"

Marinette blushed at Tikki's words but nodded. "Y-yeah, thanks Tikki".

The bluenette soon reached the hotel door that was all too familiar to her now, her face reddened slightly at the thought. She still let herself in though, making sure to lock the door behind her. When she had closed the door, she noticed her demon reading on the sofa, he put his book down as he noticed Marinette walk in. She walked over and stood behind the sofa, looking down on Damian as because she was standing, she was taller. He looked up and smirked at her.

"You know," her boyfriend began. "I had high suspicions of you being Ladybug, though, I couldn't be certain."

"How come your suspicions were so high?" Marinette asked, still smiling.

"Well when you're a vigilante yourself, I suppose it can be easier to pin point others' secret identities"

She smiled while rolling her eyes and kissed his forehead. She seemed tired and Damian made a mental note to tell her again later when she was more energized. Marinette then went to sit in the sofa and snuggle into Damian's muscular chest.

"Don't you have questions?" She murmured, she was too comfortable to move her head up.

"I do but they can wait" Damian stroked his fingers through his angel's hair. 'My Angel...' "You're tired"

"I'm not-" her yawn contradicted the words that were about to leave her lips and she grumbled in annoyance while Damian chuckled. "If I do sleep wake me up before 9, Maman and Papa are going to the airport and I want to say goodbye"

Damian remembered that Marinette's parents would be going to Marseille for around a week, they were going to open up a second location there as they had become well known in that part of the country. "Alright" he softly answered, he assumed that Marinette had fallen asleep already and his assumption was correct when he felt her slow and steady breathing. At that moment he got a message on his phone, a message from Alya. She was asking about Marinette's current predicament and Damian sent a picture of Marinette sleeping soundly, a smile on her face. He wasn't purposely trying to stay out of the frame but he wasn't in it either way.

Me: She's doing much better than earlier today, it would be best if Marinette would be the one to address what was wrong

Césaire: Oh ok, I'm glad she's feeling better

Césaire: u 2 look adorable af tho

If he blushed at that comment, no one would know. Damian put his phone down to look at his sleeping Angel. He smiled to himself and picked the bluenette up bridal style. He brought her to his bed and tucked her in to let her sleep, not before planting a kiss on her forehead, though. Damian focused his vision on the digital clock on the nightstand. '7:47 I'll let Marinette sleep until 9' His thoughts were interrupted by a small, squeaky voice.

"Damian"

His head quickly turned in the direction of the voice. 'I swear I didn't hear anyone else enter-' Damian had to blink twice. In front of him was a small, red, bug-like creature. 'What the fu-'

"Damian my name is Tikki, I am Marinette's kwami" she held her tiny arm out and Damian hastily lifted on of his finger's for the kwami to shake, he didn't know what else to do if he was being honest. "I understand that you have questions so you may ask some now, though, I understand if there are some you would like to ask her personally"

He nodded. "What....what is a kwami?" He asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend the kwami and still trying to get a hold of this new information.

"A kwami is, I guess, a miniature god that lives inside of a miraculous. The kwami is what gives the user's miraculous their powers as well as their hero costume. A miraculous is a piece of jewelry that grants the user powers. Marinette's miraculous is the Miraculous of the Laadybug, the earrings. They give her the power of Creation and Good luck" Damian nodded slowly, now back sitting on the couch. "Marinette in trusted you with her secret identity, I sense that I can trust you as well but I want to you to promise to keep her identity a secret, unless she says otherwise"

"Don't worry I will, I of all people should know the importance of keeping a secret identity a secret"

"You're a superhero?" Tikki questioned, not hearing what Damian told Marinette earlier

"Vigilante" he corrected.

"I guess that's why you have a trusting aura" Tikki pondered. "Thank you Damian, for making Marinette so happy"

"Anything to make her smile"

~~~

"Habibti, it's time to wake up" Damian gently shook Marinette's shoulder.

".......nnwhy" Marinette buried her face further into the pillow.

"You said you wanted to see your parents go to the airport, correct?"

"Oh right!" She jumped out of bed, any signs of tiredness was now gone. Damian chuckled slightly and moved towards her, he brought the ribbon he had taken earlier and put her hair back up in a ponytail. "Thanks!" She exclaimed after looking in the mirror. "I know I said I would explain everything but can I do that after we say goodbye to my parents?"

"Of course Angel"

She smiled brightly and the two walked out of the hotel to her parents' bakery, their arms linked together. As they arrived, they noticed two figures with bags and a taxi with it's boot open.

"Maman, Papa we came to say goodbye" Marinette walked over to her parents with Damian by her side, tilting her head slightly in confusion as they both smiled smugly at the couple.

"You came earlier than we thought you would Marinette and hello again...Damian is it?" Marinette's mother asked.

"Yes it is, it's a pleasure to meet you Mr Dupain, Mrs Cheng"

"No need for formalities son, Tom and Sabine" Tom said, giving Damian a bone-crushing hug.

"Papa!"

"Tom, dear, we don't want to suffocate the poor boy"

"Oh right!" Tom then put Damian down. "Is it safe to say that I assume you are Marinette's boyfriend?" The man asked, looking very joyfully at the blushing couple.

"Y-yeah" Damian murmured while Marinette nodded and both parents shot them big smiles.

"We were debating when that was going to happen" Sabine admitted with a shrug.

"Maman!"

"Oh would you look at the time, we better get going" Sabine smiled smugly, ignoring her daughter's protest. Both her and Tom engulfed Marinette in a hug and beckoned Damian to join in.

"Bye Maman, Bye Papa!"

"Goodbye Sabine, Goodbye Tom"

The couple watched the taxi leave for the airport, they stood in comfortable silence.

"So should I explain everything now? I can sleep over at your place if you want all the details" Marinette asked, blushing slightly at what she just said.

Damian realised that she was referring to sleeping over in his hotel room, honestly, he didn't mind. "If you want to"

"Great! Wait here I'll get my things"

~~~

"...and you're Multimouse too?" Damian continued after Marinette nodded. "Wow, that is...a considerable amount of information. And you called Tikki a 'bug-mouse'?" He chuckled amused at the flushed face his girlfriend now had.

"It was one time! The first time I saw her! Do you think I would have acted any differently?" She pouted and Damian took the opportunity to kiss her. He then got up to look at the time, smirking as he noticed the flushed bluenette in his peripheral vision. "Also, how did you work out that I was Ladybug?"

"For starters, I researched her- well, you and I couldn't help but notice how similar you two were, in build and personality. From there I just connected the dots"

"Huh, usually there's magic that prevents others from noticing things like that but it didn't work on you for some odd reason. That's- wait" she paused and blinked and then looked straight in Damian's eyes. Before he could voice out his confusion, she spoke again. "Did- did you just...make a pun?"

His forest green eyes widened "...no"

She laughed for a good while, especially when seeing the look on Damian's face. After she composed herself, she changed the subject. "Now it's your turn to explain, Shaytan"

"Hm alright, are you familiar with the vigilantes in Gotham?" He asked.

"The Bat-family? Are you one of Batman's comrades?" Marinette looked up at her boyfriend, wide-eyed with fascination like a child's. Damian couldn't help but melt at her expression.

"Yes and yes, my vigilante persona is known as-" he was about to tell her that he was Robin before she cut him off.

"Wait can I take a guess" Damian gestured her to do so. "Hmmmm considering your age, my options are narrowed down to one of the Batboys. Looking at your build I'd say that you are..Robin!" She said his name with great certainty.

He clapped while smiling. "You are correct, yet again"

"I'm surprised though, you don't seem like the type to be a traffic light" she teased.

"Tt, stop rubbing more salt in the wound" he groaned.

Marinette giggled. "So your brothers are the other Robins and your father is Batman, I presume?" Damian nodded. "Wow...who knew that two heroes from different places would fall in love?"

"I suppose I did" He looked at the clock again, it was 11:58. "It's getting late"

Marinette followed his vision to the clock. "Huh, I didn't even realise that the time flew by so quickly" she then got up to rearrange some of the pillows on the couch.

"What are you doing?" He asked, confused.

The bluenette looked at him, also confused. "I'm sleeping on the couch, right?"

"You can sleep on the bed, you are the guest after all. I can sleep on the couch"

"No, couldn't possibly! It's your room!"

The bickering went back and forth between the two while Tikki watched in amusement. 'If Plagg were here, he'd only add more fuel to the fire'. Most could argue that the relationship between the couple was moving too quickly but Tikki knew otherwise. The magic of the miraculous was at work. Only the true holders of the Ladybug miraculous and the miraculous of the Black Cat would be affected. That isn't always the case though, they would only be attracted to one another if the feelings they had were romantic and mutual. To most, it would appear that they were moving too quickly. But for the kwami, it was just a sign that the two true holders were found, and they were found together. 'I do have to tell Plagg, though'. Then the small kwami got an idea. "Why don't you both just sleep on the bed?"

The two then turned to Tikki, both faces were red but Marinette's shone through the most. The small kwami merely had an innocent smile on her face.

"...I-I guess that's manageable" Damian murmured.

"O-ok" Marinette mumbled, clearly too flushed for her own good.

~~~

"Alright Mari-bear, spill the beans"

Marinette had breakfast at Damian's before going home to change, she had to meet Jagged and Penny again to record and to discuss the name of the song because, for whatever reason, they hadn't done that yet. After, she promised that she would hang out with Alya, Chloe and Kagami in the blonde's room but she didn't expect to be interrogated. She briefly sugar-coated what Lie-la did and said, luckily her friends took the hint that she didn't want to talk about it. She also gained a new nickname, or a variant of one. Marinette noticed how Chloe interchangeably used 'Mare-Bare' and 'Mari-Bear' but they were more or less the same thing.

"Wha-" They all gave made a knowing face, the 'you know what I mean' face. She let out a defeated sigh. "S-so um...yesterday he asked me to be his girlfriend". The bluenette prepared herself for whatever was going to happen next, what followed was an ungodly amount of fangirl squeals. Even Kagami seemed to let one out.

"You said yes, right?" Kagami asked with a joyful tone. Marinette nodded. "So what's his full name?"

Marinette took a deep breath. "Queenie, do you keep track of who is staying in the hotel?"

"I guess" The blonde replied, glancing at her nails. "Why'd you ask?"

"Well, he's staying in room 301"

"Hm...that's one of the expensive rooms so that means-" Chloe let out a gasp of realisation. "No fucking way! How-" she then bursted out laughing, Marinette giggled as well.

"You lost me" Kagami looked between the two while Alya just shrugged her shoulders.

"Mari, Damian Wayne is your boyfriend? How you managed to thaw the Ice prince of Gotham's heart I will never know, only you Dupain-Cheng" Chloe, now recovering from laughing, was now looking at Marinette with admiration and interest.

"Wait, THE Damian Wayne?!" Alya gaped at Marinette.

"Y-yeah" The bluenette stammered and tried to hide her blush with her hands

"What's he like?"

"Is he as cold as they all say?"

"Does he treat you right?"

Marinette was bombarded with many questions regarding Damian. She struggled to keep up with each and every one of them. 'Is this what it feels like to be inundated by paparazzi?' She thought teasingly.

~~~

It was around noon. A spotted heroine jumped from roof top to roof top. She had just finished her patrol and was headed towards the Eiffel Tower, Chat Noir wanted to talk to her about something. He seemed serious too. Ladybug was slightly concerned for her friend, seeing Chat Noir act serious was a very rare sight. She voiced her concerns to Damian before she went out on patrol.

"You said he values your friendship, correct? In that case he probably wants to shelter you from whatever information he stumbled upon"

Marinette jokingly scoffed. "I'm not a damsel in need of protection thank you very much"

Damian smiled and hugged Marinette from behind while resting his chin on her head. "I know Angel, I know. That won't stop me from protecting you though"

Ladybug used her yo-yo as a grappling hook and landed gracefully on the top floor of the Eiffel Tower. Not surprisingly, Chat Noir was already there, waiting for her.

"Kitty?" The spotted heroine asked after a short moment of silence. "Is everything okay?"

The cat-themed hero sat on the floor, Ladybug sat in front of him and after a big breath, he spoke. "Ladybug, I- I don't think I'm the true holder of the Black Cat miraculous"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming, @icerosecrystal, @lolieg, @kashlyn, @mochegato, @eggadoodle, @walkingthroughonautopilot, @toodaloo-kangaroo

#daminette #maridami #maribat #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #damianette #mlb x dc #ml x dc

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whocalledhimannux · 3 years

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@peregrer the What. 👀👀👀 *insert John Mulaney gif of "say more right now"*

ok so when I say "the extent to which I've fleshed out the QT GBBO AU in my head is getting to be embarrassing," I truly and deeply mean it, please enjoy 1,900 words of utter ridiculousness.

first, our competitors:

Legarus - performs so poorly that viewers are a bit confused how he got on the show in the first place, a la Jamie (series 10) or that one guy who made a lime and chocolate cake in the first week.

Chloe - nice flavors and good ideas for decorations, but pretty sloppy. was up for elimination in the first week but came back with a great showstopper.

Melheret - good but not as good as he thinks he is (hence his bread week elimination because of sloppy technique), heavy-handed with the alcohol flavoring

Agape - solid competitor, not flashy but tasty + pretty results. I haven't worked out exact week-by-week themes (that would indeed be Too Much) but I imagine this is something like "Dairy" or "Caramel" or "Vegan," some particular element she just happens to not be strong on. viewers are disappointed by her early elimination

Teleus - Dad contestant. brings in a bunch of weird pans and gadgets he made up himself, does pretty well until it comes to Fiddly Foreign Foods he doesn't know (probably eliminated in French or Patisserie week)

Laela - typically has good flavors and pretty designs but technical knowledge is a bit lacking, so there are usually some flaws in the execution and she's often in the bottom half of technicals

Phresine - Grandma contestant. nails the classics but ultimately isn't creative enough to make it further.

Magus - the "Ian (series 6)" flavor of Dad contestant, often brings in foraged ingredients or eggs from his own chickens or whatnot and revives old recipes/flavor combinations no one else knows about. one week, some of those turn out to just be too weird, leading to his elimination.

Sophos - pretty elaborate decorations and good flavors (on the border of classic and new), but he tends to try a million different embellishments on everything and struggles with timing, occasionally to the detriment of technique.

Kamet - always has really interesting and different flavors and tends to do well in technicals especially, assuming he doesn't get overwhelmed. which is... an assumption (Finalist)

Costis - leans towards classic and indulgent flavors, although sometimes a bit sloppy--the kind of contestant where the judges look at his dishes and say "it's a bit of a mess" and then Paul Hollywood starts laughing because it still tastes delicious (Finalist)

Irene - absolutely stunning visually, queen of the technicals, occasionally gets the "style over substance" warning (Winner)

more details below the cut

I've gone back and forth on whether Eugenides should be in it but ultimately I decided no because I wanted to maintain a pre-show relationship between Laela + Kamet (I thought otherwise at first but then I realized I hadn't left Kamet any longterm friends or family for his finalist video and that's depressing af) and Irene and Sophos which to my knowledge hasn't happened once on the show so far? so having a married couple on top of that seems like it would be a stretch, and also then I think I'd need to make Eugenides the winner on principle and you know what? he can stand to be second fiddle to his wife for a little bit. My alternate backstory for him is that he was actually the winner of MasterChef one year (good with knives), so in the first episode Irene's first little chat to camera is something like "my husband's been bugging me for years to try out and I keep telling him he's got a skewed perspective on cooking competitions, finally I applied just to shut him up... and here we are." Her little video introduction is about how baking is a stress relief from her bigshot job. Her decorations tend to be abstract and gorgeous rather than cutesy.

Kamet, likewise, was nagged into applying by Laela, but she very cleverly framed it as she wanted to apply and wanted him to do it to for moral support. both were confident the other would get in and surprised that they did themselves. This is one of those series where everyone's friendships are immediate and obvious and super adorable (cast of series 10 my beloved...), and in particular these two are holding hands in episode 1. Laela's deep blue robe from TaT sticks in my head for whatever reason so I imagine her making an elaborate blue peacock cake or something one week that wins her star baker. somebody always does a peacock something and it's always impressiev.

Phresine is cool as a cucumber under pressure, always has lovely things to say about everyone else's bakes, and is the go-to last-minute helper because she usually comes in under the time. Irene starts out similar but as the weeks go by she starts to feel the pressure a bit more and cuts it a bit close. Sophos is the worst on timings, and mentions his wife at least once an episode. (I also played with him being single on the show and meeting Helen later through Irene and Eugenides, but this idea is too cute to pass up tbh.) Teleus lives with Relius, a fact that isn't mentioned until a few weeks in when he comments that Relius likes a recipe or gave him an idea for a flavor or something (Relius does not bake himself but will happily sample practice bakes), to the surprised delight of every viewer whose favorite contestant is the oldest gay in any given series (me, me, that person is me).

Costis tends to use a lot of chocolate and, as I said, pretty "classic" flavors--one of those people who makes a full English savory bake at some point. He's usually in the top half of the competition but doesn't get the top until one of the later weeks in the competition, which is a Honey themed week, and he absolutely nails it. The delicate decorations of his honey nut cakes and his use of honeycomb are particularly praised and that's the week he gets star baker. One of those bakers who flirts with elimination the first few weeks but noticeably improves over the course of the show.

My most, like, plot-y ideas are about Kamet (SHOCKER). I imagine he was born in Setra (I usually make Setra a non-autonomous region in my AUs) but arrived in Britain as a child due to [Unspecified Crisis] and ended up with foster dad Jeffa, who was roughly from the same region but not Setra itself; whenever Kamet wanted Setran food as a kid, Jeffa would take him to the library to find recipes and that was what sparked his love of baking. He's well-read on the subject and knows about foods from a lot of different cultures, so he's usually heard of the technical challenges even if he hasn't made or eaten them. He does a lot of fusion flavors, and is ALL ABOUT bread week.

I don't usually make the his-relationship-with-Nahuseresh-is-romantic leap in modern AUs but I think it works for this one because of the nature of the format--Nahuseresh doesn't actually appear on camera but is alluded to once or twice, ends up being Very Displeased that Kamet is doing something for himself, and during the week following Laela's elimination they have the fight that makes Kamet realizes this is actually a terrible relationship and he needs to leave now. He calls Laela to let her know what's up and mentions that, since he'll need to stay in a motel and has presumbly lost his job as a secretary (yeah working for your boyfriend is Bad, he's realized that now), he's going to have to drop out of the show. Laela, despite living in a studio flat without room to host him, immediately thinks "um fuck that" and calls Costis, and within an hour Costis and Aris and a few rugby buddies have moved all of Kamet's things into Costis and Aris's flat, where Costis insists that he'll squeeze into Aris's room (they've shared before, it's fine) and that Kamet gets first dibs on the kitchen for all bake off practices.

None of them actually reveal any of this to the show's producers. Kamet gets a little overwhelmed the following week and nearly walks away from the tent, but Costis jumps in to keep his bake from being ruined, and some soothing words from Irene + the hosts calm him down and he returns to finish. The only mention of the Drama comes in the finale, during the longer video clips they do on each of the contestants. Kamet is deliberately vague about the details of the situation, but Aris shows up in both Costis's and Kamet's videos and references the fact that having TWO flatmates in the bake off is a bit difficult because they only have a standard size kitchen, so he hasn't cooked for himself in a month and has been living off cake and savory breads. one of the hosts talks to Kamet in the tent after that clip is shown and he still won't talk about it in more detail, but says that he wanted to tell people so they could appreciate why Costis hasn't practiced as much the last few weeks (the judges scolded him for winging it a couple of times), and admits that he totally copied some of Costis's techniques for honey week based on watching him at home.

I imagine the finale task is something like an illusion cake--probably with a bunch of additional required elements because the show has been going bonkers with the finale showstoppers in the newer seasons--and Irene wins with a jewelry box containing, among other things, ruby earrings made out of candy. Kamet does a stepwell, and Costis does something architectural (I was thinking castle but something visibly Greek-ish so maybe a temple or a megaron? idk). Irene wins but they're all BFFs and that's obvious, so everyone's delighted for her. The little montage at the end reveals that Irene + Gen are expecting twins, that everybody hangs out all the time, and that Costis + co recently helped Kamet move into his own flat where he's now working on a novel (Immakuk and Ennikar inspired, obvi, leaning heavily on the honey-shared-on-the-road thing and including some recipes that actually work in the narration, albeit still written in an ancient-novel-like-way).

[Obviously not part of the show, but when Kamet mentions that it's time for him to look for his own place, Costis tries to v awkwardly invite him to stay forever and Kamet is like "nope I've got to try this on my own but yes we will go on a date once I've moved out and see how it goes from there."]

[This is so far beyond the scope of the show but also several of them go on to have more baking-related careers and have active social media presences and at one point they're all hanging out and Eugenides pulls out a camera and demands they all produce baking pick-up lines. Teleus refuses and also doesn't believe anyone knows baking pick-up lines off the top of their head or could make them up on the spot. Sophos sort of proves him right by coming up with "you're the apple of my pie," which Eugenides instantly mocks because Sophos's three greatest loves are baking, Helen, and poetry, and that's the best he can do? Helen comes up with "I like my cake the way I like my men--rich, sweet, and bright red," to which Sophos blushes on cue. Irene's is "when I'm with you, I feel like chocolate heated to 50 degrees--I struggle to maintain my temper." Eugenides protests this is more like an anti-pickup line. Irene insists this is the most accurate marriage-related baking pun anyone could ever come up with.

[Laela's is "You and I are like custard--I hope we never split." Kamet's is "You remind me of bread, because I knead you." Costis freezes for a minute and finally comes up with "Fancy a cream horn?" which produces a lot of giggling and makes Kamet slap his arm in such a way that, hen Eugenides posts this video to instagram, fans of the show all go WAIT ARE THEY DATING NOW] [by this point, yes they are] [I didn't even have to google baking pickup lines for this, guys, I legit came up with them on my own, please clap.]

am I obsessed? I might be obsessed

#queen's thief #attolia irene #kamet #costis ormentiedes #sophos #eugenides #teleus #eddis helen #laela #oh dear I bet her tag is virtually unsearchable #sorry laela

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fbfh · 4 years

Text

vegas lights - piper x mpdg!bff!reader

2.3k words

wlw, friends to lovers

piper x manic pixie dream girl! best friend! reader

inspired by this concept playlist from this post (i think it’s the fourth one on the post)

You and piper met at one of those fancy boarding schools

You’ve been told you have trouble respecting authority, can’t follow instructions, and have little regard to your attitude

So more specifically, you met in detention

You had shown up to school with blue and orange hair

As you expected, that didn’t go over well

Piper hadn’t done her homework again

The teacher had left to make some copies of papers, and you were sitting one seat back and to the right of piper

“Hey, since people always talk about going back in time and making one small change that affects everything, do you think the most minute decisions we make have the capacity to change everything now?”

She turned her head and saw you leaning across your desk

Your eyebrows matched your hair, your blazer was too big and the sleeves were cuffed, and pen ink was scribbled on your arms and hands

You had a wild energy, like a strong breeze that smelled like summer you find some other time of year

“Uh…”

She wasn’t really sure what you meant, and was still a little thrown by you

“Or like, is it the kind of thing where nothing we do matters and we’re gonna end up where we end up, so that takes off the pressure of moralizing your decisions and you end up making ‘better’ choices?”

Was this real?

The late afternoon sun cast an unsettling blue green light throughout the building, and made Piper feel even more like she was dreaming

“Maybe neither,” she mused, grabbing the first thing that came to mind

A new smile crept at your eyes, and she could almost see your perspective shift

“Yeah, like… the presence of someone who wasn’t there before was the thing to set everything off. Maybe it’s not your decisions as much as being there…” you trailed off lost in thought, “huh.”

You pushed yourself up, and sat on the edge of your desk

“So what are you in for?”

Piper hadn’t realized she was staring until your eyes locked with hers

“D- uh, didn’t do my homework,” she sputtered

You sighed, and rolled your eyes

“God, they’re only gonna realize humans aren’t designed for constant work when we’re all dead.”

You turn back to her

“You seem intelligent. Being smart doesn’t mean anything, intelligence is what actually matters.”

Wow

How do you respond to that?

“... I’m Piper,”

“Piper…” you repeated slowly

“I like that.”

Silence

“What’s your name?”

“What do I seem like?”

She looked confused

“What do I strike you as?”

She thought for a minute, then blurted out the first thing she thought of

“Vegas.”

You smiled

“I love that… we’re gonna go to Vegas some time. It’ll be an adventure.”

“If I had to guess for you…” you trailed off, examining every detail of her in a way that didn’t make her self conscious

“I’d say diamond. I really like Piper too, though.”

Her stomach fell

There it is, nothing more than a pretty face once again

“Oh, cause I’m-”

“Strong.”

Her eyes snapped up to yours

“You don’t seem like anyone can break you.”

She liked that a lot better

You asked her something about lunch tomorrow, she didn’t remember quite what, and that was the beginning of the two of you

You spent every minute you could together, which often resulted in coordinating your stunts with hers to end up in detention together

After a while the bmw story came up

You believed her without hesitation

“God, guys can be the fucking worst sometimes. I bet that piece of wet toast gave you the car to get on your good side then pulled a Nice Guy as soon as he realized it wasn’t happening.”

Not totally accurate, but she appreciated your enthusiasm so she agreed wholeheartedly

For some reason it felt really nice to hear you say boys suck

As the semester went on, she started to get worried

You had started talking to a guy, and she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach

She found herself having to try harder and harder to fake happy for you

She was almost surprised at how relieved she was a week later when you plop down at your usual lunch spot and denounce cynically

“Y’know that guy I was talking to? Turns out he’s not actually into philosophy, he’s a fake academic with a superiority complex.”

A weight flew off her chest

“You’re way better off without him,”

“I know! He thinks watching rick and morty is a personality trait,”

“Oh god…” she laughed

She had to fight a smile for most of lunch

To her despair, the cycle repeated again, less than a week later

Then again and again, you were seeing a new boy every week for a little over a month

As it progressed, she began to notice feeling worse, then better with every guy you picked up and dumped

She started to worry she was being a bad friend, possessive and jealous

You could tell something was off, and had mentioned here and there if she needs to talk to you she can

Every act of closeness from you made her feel worse and better at the same time

You had asked her to help you re dye your hair, this time a bright lime green, and she had no idea how she’d made it through the long night of just the two of you without saying something really stupid

It was almost graduation by now and she felt like she was going to break in half

“That’s it, I’m done with men. Never touching another one. Ever.”

She looked up at you shocked

“You can hold me to that.” you finish, a laugh frosting the seriousness of your statement

A flood gate opened somewhere deep inside her

Before she could stop it, the thought crept up on her from the back of her mind

‘Least now I have a chance with her,’

The organicness shocked her so much she almost choked on her food

“You okay Di?” you asked

Her pulse was racing and she felt panic and adrenaline coursing through her in a way she’d never experienced

“Yeah, I just have go to the bathroom,” she said, standing up quickly and avoiding your eyes

“I’ll come with,”

“No! It’s fine. I’ll be right back, stay here.”

You agreed

She rushed into the bathroom to google “does having a crush on a girl mean i’m gay”

She tried rephrasing the question a hundred times, glad she remembered to turn on private browsing before she started

She tries to calm her breathing as she gets the same answer five times in a row

“If you keep asking if you’re gay, you probably are”

One article on realizing you have a crush on your girl best friend was actually slightly helpful

It was validating, gave advice on how to act normal, and emphasized there’s time to sort out these feelings and what they might mean later

She read it three times before the bell rang

Shit

She had half her classes with you, what was she gonna do now?

She came out of the bathroom and there you were, waiting for her

“Hey, you okay?”

“Ye- uh… yeah, I’m… sick I think. That’s why I left suddenly, and couldn’t… finish lunch,” she was a terrible liar to you, and just hoped that whatever forces had gotten her in trouble so many times could convince you this was all cause of a stomach bug

“Oh, that sucks. I have an extra bag of chips if you get hungry later, and if you wanna sleep after class instead of hang out I totally get it.”

Her heart was palpitating

At least you seemed to believe it

“Yeah, I probably should… and I probably shouldn’t get too close to you- like, I should stay away from you. Cause I don’t want you to get sick too.” she knew she was rambling and had no idea how to fix it.

“Okay, text me later. I’m here to talk if you wanna.” you smiled, and squeezed her shoulder, her heart squeezing at the same time

She left in a hurry to get to her next class, for once grateful you weren’t in it

Over the next week or so, the idea of having a huge uncontrollable crush on you started to be less scary

She just didn’t want to lose you

She knew everything about you

Your favorite color, violet

Your favorite singer, someone named king princess

Your favorite food, broccoli

Even your favorite lip balm flavor, cherry

She had to set all these feelings aside and be there for you as a friend, because that’s what you needed her to be

Just for another week, then you’d part ways for the summer and she could get over this before next year

She couldn’t stop the way her heart skipped a beat when you rested your head on her shoulder

Or when you were studying last night

You couldn’t figure out a problem, and put your head in her lap declaring,

“That’s it. We’re moving to a countryside cottage and becoming an old married farming couple.”

She didn’t breathe right for a second

She somehow managed to choke out

“God, please. That can be our plan b if we fail.”

Which, unfortunately, you didn’t

You both passed, and unhappily went your separate ways for the summer

She tried to keep plans to meet up abstract, savoring that last hug on friday more than she should have

This plan will work, she’ll avoid you all summer, and come back next semester and be totally normal

It will all be fine

Or it would have if you hadn’t pressed a kiss on her cheek before she got pulled into a rented car, speeding off for the airport

Every minute between that second and seeing her dad at the airport was filled with thoughts of you

Five days had passed, and she couldn’t sleep

She had tried to keep texting you to a minimum, which only worked because of how much she was overthinking everything

Friends can kiss sometimes, right?

And yeah, you looked at her with those big sparkly eyes, but you’ve looked at her like that since she first met you

She was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and couldn’t get your stupid amazing smile out of her head

She was… overwhelmed

Her phone buzzed

Of course, it was you

She threw her phone on her bed without reading it

Her whole body was buzzy, her feelings had never been this strong

It was too much

She actually felt like she was going to explode in 10 seconds

She could feel a stupid impulse of some kind or another creeping up

A gentle tapping on her window snapped her out of it

‘It’s her’

No it’s not, she chastised herself, you’re practically on the other side of the country

She looked over at her window

It was you

Oh god

She scrambled out of bed, and threw the window open

You had already popped the screen off, propping it next to her window

“Hi,” you said,

“H-” she had no words

Time and time again you left her speechless

“Y-... your hair’s pink,” she choked out

You laughed and smiled that crooked little smile of yours, and she could feel her heart clench

“Yeah, d’you like it?”

“Yeah,” she said without a second thought

Something she’d read online came back to her in a rush

‘If you like your crush after they change their hair, you know it’s real’

Shit

You placed your hand on top of hers

“So… do you wanna go on an adventure?”

“Yes.” she answered, never wanting anything more

You laugh and lean forward, closer to her

You brush a strand of hair out of her face and watch as her eyes flutter closed

A surge of nerves pulse through you simultaneously, your hand still on her face

“Piper,” you whisper, sounding closer than before

“Hm?”

“... do you want to kiss?”

Relief floods her like nothing she’s ever experienced before

She nods twice, vigorously

Your lips connect in a moment of pure euphoria

You’re soft

You taste like cherry, and that gum you’re always chewing, grapefruit and pear and a little cayenne

Her lips are warm and soft and so inviting

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, already wanting more

Her mind is reeling

What if this is just a fling or something, what if this isn’t like, romantic kissing and it’s the kind of kissing best friends probably do sometimes?

Best friends can kiss sometimes, right???

She has to do it now, there’s no way she could possibly come back from this

She has to tell you how she feels

But how can she say it?

She can’t just blurt it out

It has to be perfect

But she also has to be able to take it back in case you say no

“Piper,” you start again

“Yeah?” she breathes

Once again you take the words right out of her, spinning them into something beautiful and easy to understand

“Do you want to be girlfriends? Like, date each other?”

She’s frozen for a second

This has to be a dream

It feels fake

She’s been dying to hear you say those exact words for months

And how much more in character could it have been than after asking her to go on an adventure

She looks into your eyes, searching for a hint of a lie

She finds nothing

And for a moment, for the first time, she sees your composure begin to crack

You look… scared

She realizes she hasn’t answered yet

“Yes!” she blurts, pulling you in to kiss you again and again

“Yes, yes, yes…” she mutters between kisses

Your giggles hit her ears, sounding different than ever before

After what feels like forever and not nearly long enough, you finally part again

“So…” you play with her hair, braiding a loose strand

“How ‘bout that adventure?”

#piper x reader #piper mclean x reader #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #wlw x reader #hoo girls

110 notes · View notes

atomic-taco-muffin · 3 years

Note

Can you please make KH boys x female reader? When she tells him that she’s pregnant. But it’s just a prank. Sora falls for it.

KH Boys Reacting To The Pregnancy Test Prank

Warnings: fluff/lime

Sora:

Your friends convinced you to by a fake pregnancy test for a prank on Sora. You never like pranking Sora, but he needed a break from missions. You read the instructions and prepared for Sora. When he got home, you told to sit on the couch and would be right back. You grabbed the fake test and brought it over to Sora. When he saw the test, he internally panicked. But he was so happy. But when you told him it was a prank, he was dumbfounded.

“What do you mean it was a prank? Do you not want a kid?” He was on the verge of tears.

“I’m so sorry. My friends convinced me to get this to prank you. I didn’t mean for it to end it like this.” Sora hugged you. He was fine with pranks, but when he said to never listen to your friends again, he was serious.

Riku:

Riku knew you were acting strange, he just didn’t know why. He came home and sat you down on the couch to have a serious talk. He asked you what was wrong and he fell into your trap. You told him you were pregnant and he fell even more.

“P-p-pregnant?” He couldn’t find the words to describe how happy he was. Until you ruined it by saying it was a prank.

“You got 10 seconds to run before I kill you.” You ran into the bedroom laughing your ass off. He was going to show you what happens when you prank him like that.

Vanitas:

(There’s so many cute ones!)

Vanitas was confused when he saw your mood change. You were usually happy and kind to the point where it almost made him sick (literally). Now you felt sick at almost everything you saw. He thought that you were on your period. But boy was he wrong. He came into the bedroom and demanded to know what was wrong. When he heard you were pregnant, he was ecstatic.

“R-really? We’re gonna have a little rascal?” He put his hands on your stomach to try and talk with your “baby”. When you said that it was a prank, he almost turned into Bakugou. He was so mad at you. But he knew you loved pranks. So later that night, he gave you a taste of your own medicine.

Terra:

You made the mistake by listening to Aqua when she said that you should prank Terra into thinking that you were pregnant. You bought fake pregnancy tests, fake vomit, everything to make it seem like you were pregnant. Terra asked what was wrong after you placed the fake vomit in the toilet. You told him that you might have a stomach bug, and he immediately went to go make you some soup. Aqua came in and handed you the fake test that was already prepared. When Terra came back, he asked what you had. When he heard that it was a pregnancy test, he grabbed it and saw that it was positive.

“We’re having a baby.” He started to cry and hugged you. You didn’t want to hurt him but you had to.

“What do you mean it was a prank?” He looked at you with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Blame Aqua. She’s the one who wanted me to do this.” you said.

“I’m gonna kill her. And then I’m gonna kill you.” You were scared but excited.

Ventus:

This baby boy was so happy to find out that you were pregnant until you said that it was a prank. He got so mad that he gave you the silent treatment for a month. You felt so bad so you made him some cookies as an apology.

“That doesn’t make up for the sadness you gave me.” he said pouting. He was such a baby sometimes. But he was your baby. And maybe soon, you would have another baby to call your own.

Axel:

Axel was eating a snack when you came into the living room to give him big news. He put down whatever he was eating and looked at you. When you told him that you were pregnant, he nearly choked. He was so happy that he picked you up and swung you around. But when he found out it was prank, he was so pissed off.

“Why would you prank me like that? Do you know how excited I was to become a dad?” he said.

“I’m sorry. Olette and Xion convinced me to prank you. I didn’t mean for it to go that far.” you said.

“I forgive you, but now you gotta pay the price.”

“What price?”

“I think you know.”

Roxas:

When Roxas found out that you were pregnant, he was so thrilled but confused at the same time. But when you said that it was a prank, he was not amused. It was bad enough that he had to deal with Hayner and Pence’s pranks, now he’s got to deal with you? Nope. No way.

“Babe. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.” you said

“Yeah. Well, you did.” he growled.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

“I think I have an idea.” You ended up buying a month full of ice cream along with really amazing spicy time.

35 notes · View notes

doing-all-write · 4 years

Text

you’re out

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your favorite past time is roasting Joe about how much the Yankees suck. So, when you go to a Yankees game with him and make a bet about whether they’ll win or not, you can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll win so Joe can do whatever he wants to you.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: SMUT (don’t interact if you’re under 18 please!), swearing, mentions of alcohol, continuous talk of how much the Yankees suck (they do, I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules!!!!).

A/N: Hello, hi, hey, anyone else bummed there isn’t any baseball to watch?? No?? Just me?? Alright, well, have soft, baseball loving Joe to fill the void in your heart. (and once again, thank you to @diasimar, @fairestkillerqueenofall and @mrhoemazzello for their contributions and for being in horny/yearning hell with me all day every day)

💖As always, likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💖

"NO!"

"HA! See, that's why the Sox are the best team in the league right now and the Yankees, well, the Yankees, they suck." She took a long pull of beer as Joe’s string of curses were muffled by the material of his Yankees cap.

Slapping him on the back, she raised her hand to get the bartenders attention. Her friend, Dylan, nodded back and slid two tequila shots down the bar toward them, not even bothering to hide their laughter at Joe, who had fully slumped over the bar and was letting his forehead bounce lightly against the wood.

Pushing one liquid gold shot toward Joe, she pulled her own closer, watching a droplet of water fall over the edge of the lime's rind into the glass.

"C'mon Mazzello. Buck up. It's just the Yankees fifth loss of the season. Which means they’ve secured their status as the most suck-tastic team in the MLB." Smirking, she threw her shot back, quickly bringing the lime to her mouth and biting down on soft flesh, the sting of acidity biting back as she licked her lips, making sure she got every bit of salt from them.

Watching (Y/N) lick her lips was the only thing that was enough to make Joe stop feeling sorry for himself and start feeling a different emotion.

"Can't you have some sympathy for a mourning man? I'm dying over here. I'm slowly being killed by the thing I love most." He wasn't quite sure if he was referring to the Yankees or the more than friends feelings that he'd had for (Y/N) since the moment he’d met her.

And her boyfriend.

But the boyfriend was out of the picture (She'd swanned into his apartment one day, already monologuing, "So, I dumped Mitch. He told me once we got 'serious', my career would need to take a back seat so I left him, and our relationship, in the back seat of the Uber we were in.") and Joe felt like he needed to take his chance before someone else came into the picture.

Laughing, she reached her hand up to the Sox cap she wore, twisting it around so the brim was facing towards the back.

Joe almost choked at the action.

"Joe, if you don't take that shot right now I'm calling the cops because I'm pretty sure that's alcohol abuse to leave a perfectly good free shot sitting in front of you." Dylan raised an eyebrow as they finished wiping down the last glass they had pulled from the crate they'd brought from the kitchen.

Ripping his gaze from (Y/N)'s form, he hurriedly threw it back, scrunching his face up in an exaggerated fashion as the burn of the alcohol streaked down his throat and warmed his stomach. Popping the whole lime slice in his mouth he heard her laugh,

"Joe! God, how many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to put the whole lime in your mouth?"

"When you stop laughing every time I do it." He admitted as he delicately placed the mangled husk of said lime on his napkin. Dylan shuddered as they touched the very edge of Joe's napkin to let it fall into the trash can behind the bar.

Shaking her head, she swiveled in her chair to face Joe, "So. I have a proposition."

Please let it be that she things we should be together forever and get married. Or that she proposition me for sex. Either one.

"You know how I scored those tickets to the Yankee's/Sox's game for next week?"

Shaking himself from the imagery of shoving a piece of wedding cake in (Y/N)'s face, Joe nodded, taking another gulp of beer.

"Well....since you're my best friend who I love dearly," she placed a hand on his thigh, smiling, and Joe knew he would do whatever she wanted.

"I was thinking we could make it extra interesting." Her heart was racing at just the small action she had accomplished. Feeling Joe's thigh muscle tighten as she laid her hand on it made something deep in the pit of her stomach tighten as well.

Since she'd broken up with Mitch it freed her up to do things she'd always wanted to do. To focus on her career, her friendships, herself and on the fact that she wanted her best friend, Joe Mazzello, to absolutely wreck her in the bedroom.

The first time she'd envisioned it, she'd almost drained the new pair of batteries she'd put in her vibrator and since then she'd been falling without a parachute. The only thing that kept her from ripping the cord was the fact he was her best friend. They spent all their time together, what if it went wrong? It was a silly fear, she knew if anything were to happen they’d work through it like they always did, but it still bugged her that something so trivial was stopping her from potentially jumping into the best relationship she'd ever had.

Besides, she'd do anything for Joe and she knew he’d do anything for her. They'd picked each other up from the airport, taken care of each other when they were sick or hungover and once Joe had plant sitted for her.

(The key word there being once. She'd come back to all of them dead. "Joe...they're succulents. How do you kill those?")

She was nervous the fantasies she'd cooked up in her head would never live up to the reality that was in front of her, but recently she'd noticed little things that were starting to embolden her.

Lingering gazes, holding on for a second too long during hugs. Once, it had been late, and they'd pulled apart from a hug only for their eyes to lock. Her breath caught as the thought oh god it's actually happening flitted through her mind, but Joe just gave her a gentle nudge toward the door urging her to get into bed as soon as possible.

But, she was nervous that she was reading too much into these signs.

If (Y/N) had been able to read minds she would have been very confused to see Gwil in his "I Want To Break Free" get up but it was Joe's surefire way to get rid of an erection and with (Y/N)'s hand so close on his thigh, he knew he needed to do something desperate to settle himself down.

Bringing herself back to the feel of Joe's thigh under her hand, she peered up at him through her eyelashes and shot him a smile, "I think we should place a bet."

"A bet?"

"Yes, Joseph. A wager. On this ball game."

"Alright, what are the terms?" Joe leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the way the sleeves of his t-shirt stretched against his biceps. She swore he bought his shirts a size too small just to fuck with her.

"Well, if the Yankees lose, which they will because they suck," Joe made an indignant noise in the back of his throat, "then you have to do anything I want."

Joe's eyebrows almost shot into his hairline, "And if the Sox’s lose? Which they will," he declared pointing a finger in (Y/N)'s face, causing her to lean back in her chair, batting his finger out of her face, "then you have to do anything I want." Crossing his arms behind his head he settled back into his chair, smug smile firmly planted.

"It's so on, Mazzello." She declared as she stuck her hand out for him to shake. As his hand slid into hers, she could have sworn they both held on for a beat longer than was absolutely necessary.

~~~

In (Y/N)'s opinion it wasn't really summer till she went to a baseball game. The artificial green of the grass, the sun shining down, the crack of a baseball hitting a bat. There wasn't a scent more intoxicating than that of popcorn, hot dogs and cheap beer.

Which was probably why Joe had sent some serious side eye her way as she filled her lungs and drank in the scene before her, settling into their seats, hands clasped around flimsy plastic cups filled with overpriced alcohol.

"What? You don't love the smell of a ball game?" she shot him an incredulous look.

"No, I do. But I don't try to inhale the whole stadium through my nostrils."

Reaching a hand around she knocked his Yankees hat off his head, laughing as he scrambled to pick it up and jam it back on his head. Turning, she saw he had his best scowl prepped as he glared at her,

"How dare you try to knock the best good luck charm the Yankees have off my head?"

"Because I need my bathroom cleaned and I want you to do it." she shrugged as she took a sip of what was mostly foam. Gotta love baseball beer.

"I can't even be that mad at you because you did bring me to a baseball game that my team is going to whoop your teams ass in so, thanks, (Y/N)." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her into his side as she leaned a head against him, smiling and wanting to stay in that position for as long as possible.

"Oh, you two are just the cutest couple! Reminds me of myself and Harold at our first baseball game."

Both their heads turned in perfect unison to look at the form of a woman cautiously making her way down the stairs, cane in one hand, her grandson holding her other arm and mouthing I'm sorry at them over her head.

Laughing self-consciously, (Y/N) started to disentangle herself from Joe's embrace, "Oh. Ah. That's really not-"

"Thank you ma'am, that's really sweet of you. Were you and Harold married a long time?" Joe interjected, keeping his arm firmly wrapped around (Y/N)'s shoulders.

Stopping in the middle of the aisle, the woman’s eyes grew soft, "Oh yes. We were friends for the longest time until finally one day he kissed me on the cheek. I remember I turned to him as he turned bright red and looked ready to melt into the floor. But I just told him 'It's about damn time!' And planted one on him myself." She laughed at the memory as her grandson rolled his eyes,

"C'mon Grandma. Let's get to our seats. The first pitch is gonna be thrown soon."

Waving goodbye, they watched the woman toddle down the stairs. Lifting one thigh and then the other, (Y/N) felt her skin unstick and prayed to god she wouldn't have butt sweat once this thing was over.

"That's cute. But also it sounds like she was a huge hussy back in her day."

Snorting, she slapped Joe in the chest, "Really, Joey? You're going to call a sweet old lady a hussy for sharing a cute story about her and her husband?"

"I'm just calling 'em like I see 'em!"

"And that old woman is a hussy?"

"She's the one throwing herself at men!" Joe protested as he tried to hold back his laughter. Soon, they both were laughing so hard no noise was coming out, just their whole bodies shaking with mirth.

"Okay, okay...oh my god. I will give her credit, that's a very sweet story." (Y/N) admitted as she leaned back in her seat, adjusting her own lucky Sox hat.

"It is. I've always liked being friends with someone first before dating them." Joe admitted as he slid his eyes over to meet (Y/N)'s. Staring back at him, she felt her heart stop as his gaze burned into hers. Nodding, she mumbled, "Yeah, me too."

His lips twitched upward as he broke the gaze and leaned back in his seat, throwing one arm over the back of her chair and propping his foot up on the seat in front of him, "I think it's gonna be a great ball game."

She could only nod mutely as she tried to pick up the scattered fragments of her thoughts.

"C'mon. Go. GO. GOGOGO. DROP IT...AHH FUCK." Her head dropped into her hands. She was so sure that the hit the last batter had was going to be the one that got the Sox the win but the Yankees outfielder had just managed to snag it.

Beside her, Joe was on his feet, pumping his fists in the air and cheering along with every other Yankees fan in the stadium causing the floor to rumble underneath her Converse.

"C'mon (Y/N), you're missing the best part!" Joe laughed as he tugged on the back of her shirt. Lifting her head up she was met with confetti raining from the sky and Frank Sinatra crooning "New York, New York" over the stadium speakers as the crowd started to flood out of the ball park.

"You're an insufferable bastard."

"Yeah but I'm your insufferable bastard." Joe cooed as he patted her head, snickering as she rolled her eyes and dodged out from underneath his patronizing hand.

"Whatever, Mazzello. Let's head out." Pulling her phone from her pocket to call a ride, her brain was already going a million miles an hour, thinking about what Joe would possibly make her do. Just the kind of thoughts she was having were causing her to shift in place, trying to find some relief for the ache that was building between her thighs.

Joe was consumed by his own thoughts at the opportunity before him. He didn't want to make (Y/N) do anything she didn't want to do but at the same time...he wanted to kiss her. He'd almost been disappointed that the kiss cam hadn't landed on them.

Both of them were lost in their own world and as such didn't realize that the herd moving to exit the stadium had stopped which caused Joe to run into someone which made (Y/N) bump into Joe with an "Oof"

Reaching an arm back, he wrapped his hand around her arm, steadying her as she tottered on the balls of her feet.

"Without even looking back, that's impressive."

"What can I say? I'm an impressive sort of guy." (Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat considering what else about Joe was impressive but immediately snapped out of it when he turned to face her over his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows up and down.

Rolling her eyes, she shoved him forward, "Let's just get home so I can sooth my wounds with booze and maybe some leftover Chinese."

"Wait, but we had Chinese at my place, none of it is at yours." Joe wrinkled his brow.

"I know, that's why we're going over to your place. You have all the good food and booze." She shrugged as they pushed through the gates and walked to the bus that would take them home.

"You always say that and then I run out of food and have to buy more. Why can't you ever have the good food and booze?" he grumbled.

"Because I can't afford to have you eating and drinking all my stuff."

~~~

Shoving his door open, they fell into Joe's apartment, letting the artificial coolness of air conditioning wrap itself around them. Both of them letting out involuntary sighs at how good it felt after being crammed onto a hot bus with more warm bodies than seats.

"Time to munch..." (Y/N) clapped her hands together before she opened the door of Joe's fridge and pulled out a Chinese takeout container, popping it open, mouth watering instantly at the sight of the golden dumplings waiting for her, like little doughy presents.

Before she could even grab a fork, Joe's hand wrapped around the container, whipping it up and over her head, causing her to turn in place so she was witness to Joe shoving a dumpling in his mouth, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I not tell you? Dumplings are for winners." He said through a mouthful of her dumplings.

"You're the meanest person in the whole world." She declared as she turned her back on him to rummage around in his fridge, only to emerge with two beers in her fist.

Joe couldn't help but admire how she looked in his kitchen. He couldn't help but think what it would be like to cook with her. Or cook for her. Having her sitting on the counter as he made her a home cooked meal, stealing kisses in between stirring and chopping, making small talk, kidding around with each other, he wanted that so badly he felt his heart seize with longing.

"Well, I guess we can't put it off any longer." She sighed as she slowly placed the beers on the counter. The look on her face was so melancholy, Joe put down the takeout box and felt his heart leap up into his throat, "What do you mean?"

"I mean the bet. I lost. Which, I would like to point out, how brave I am for admitting that without retching," Joe rolled his eyes, "But I get to do anything you want me to do so, hit me Joe. What do you want me to do?"

Peering up at him through her eyelashes she searched his face, hoping against all hope that he would say "get on your knees" or "get into my bedroom". She knew that was wishful thinking on her part but she couldn't help it. Watching his Adam's apple bob up and down as he took a huge swallow, she almost didn't hear what he muttered next,

"Want you to kiss me."

Her eyes shot up to his.

"I mean, only if you want to. I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with but, fuck, (Y/N), I've wanted to kiss you since I first met you and I don't know, it feels like there's been something more between us lately and I didn't want to hate myself forever for not just, going for it, so, if you want, I'd really like it if you kissed me." He ended this speech with a shrug, fiddling with his fingers.

"Joey," she breathed out and Joe's form stiffened as he waited for her rejection,

"I've waited for you to ask me that for so long." she admitted, almost laughing at how wide Joe's eyes became.

Blinking he stepped forward, "Then get over here and kiss me."

Eyes widening, she stepped up to Joe, their arms hanging at their sides as they contemplated each other. Unsure, she tilted her head up. Joe leaned his head down, lips ghosting over hers as he whispered, "Are you sure?"

She just nodded and felt her heart clench as a smirk grew over Joe's face.

Reaching a hand up, he cupped her cheek, letting his thumb stroke over the soft skin. Closing the gap between them, he placed his lips against hers, gently. Not enough to really count as a true kiss, his last ditch attempt to give her an out if she wanted.

The electricity zipping through her body let her know that this was meant to happen.

Letting out a small moan, she reached her arms up to wrap around Joe's neck, dragging him down more fully against her lips. Twining his arms around her waist, he pulled her flush against him. Feeling her soft curves fit up against him in the most delicious way possible.

Deepening the kiss, he nudged her back toward the counter. She made a small noise in the back of her throat as her back hit the edge.

"Jump," Joe breathed and she did what she was told, leaping up onto the counter, spreading her legs as Joe stepped between them, running his hands up and down her thighs, giving them a squeeze when he reached where she wanted him most.

"Such a good girl taking my directions." he breathed into her mouth. Her head dropped back as she let out a groan. Joe smiled at the effect.

"You're gonna ruin me, Joe." she laughed weakly as one of her hands intertwined with one of Joe's.

"That's the plan, darling" he said devilishly, bringing his other hand to the back of her head, pulling her down to reconnect their lips. She cupped Joe's face with both of her hands, giving her all to the kiss. Letting all of her pent up want and need spill through her lips and tumble into Joe's heart.

Letting his tongue slip through her lips, he explored her mouth. She gripped his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him flush against the counter. Chuckling, he twined his fingers through her hair, giving it a gentle tug as he felt her body become pliable at the sensation.

"So, you like having your hair pulled, huh?" He murmured as she mewled, scooting her hips closer to the edge of the counter, wanting nothing more than to grind her core against something, anything to relieve the ache that was building in her.

"Mmm and you're a needy little thing too." he cooed as his hands ghosted down her body, outlining her curves. Nodding ferociously, she drapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his again as he gave her hips a squeeze.

"Joe!" the yelp that came from her mouth was louder than she intended but she hadn't been prepared for Joe's arms to lift her from the counter and carry her into the bedroom. Feeling his chest rumble against hers she smiled, "I got you. Don't worry."

"I know. You've always had me." she breathed into his ear and Joe had to bury his head into her hair to keep from letting the enjoyment he felt hearing that shine too strongly through his face.

Lifting his head from her soft waves, he gently laid her on the bed groaning when she stretched her whole body and smiled up at him, "Aren't you going to ravish me now?" she fluttered her eyelashes at him and felt her pulse quicken as Joe started unbuckling his jeans.

"Sweetheart, I'm going to make sure every inch of you is screaming with pleasure." Eyes widening, she started to fumble with the buckle of her belt as Joe chuckled, "I, uh, kind of wanted to be the one who did that." Lifting her eyes she saw the blush in his cheeks and smiled, "Then come here and get into these pants, Mazzello."

He pounced on top of her so quickly she wasn't even sure how it happened. His fingers making quick work of her belt and shimmying her shorts down her legs.

"God, you're gorgeous." Joe's eyes shone as he drank her form in. When he got to her head his lips quirked up, "You're gonna have to lose the hat, babe. Besides, if anything you should be wearing the hat of winners." he joked as she rolled her eyes. Then, a wicked idea overcame her.

Rising up on her knees, she placed her hands on Joe's shoulders to breath into his ear, "You mean like this hat?" Grabbing the hat Joe was still wearing, she flung her Sox hat to the floor and replaced it with his well-work Yankees hat.

Seeing (Y/N) wearing that hat caused Joe's cock to twitch in his boxers and he let out a soft whine as she placed a hand on his thigh, "Do you want to fuck me in your Yankees hat, Joey?"

"God, yes. I don't care how stereotypically male that makes me but, fuck, (Y/N), yes." his hands came up to her face, pulling her into a deep kiss that was interrupted by his moan as her hand started palming him through his boxers.

"Fuuuck (Y/N)" he breathed out as his head fell against her shoulder. Smiling she kissed his neck as she tugged at the band of his briefs, "I want these off"

Again, it seemed like Joe moved so fast she wasn't sure how it happened. In the blink of an eye he was laying on her bed, briefs off, shirt off and beckoning her closer with one finger, his eyes never leaving hers.

Smirking, she crawled over to Joe. Straddling him, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, being careful not to mess up the hat that was positioned on her head. Joe smirked at the action but his jaw quickly dropped when he saw her. Her pink bra and floral panties somehow making the hat on her head even filthier.

She felt his cock twitch underneath her heat and groaned at the contact. Leaning forward she pressed a kiss to Joe's lips then slowly started kissing his neck, down his chest and finally to his thighs where she most wanted to be.

Biting his hips, Joe finally hissed "(Y/N), please, wanted this for so long..." Taking pity on him, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock and started working him over. The way Joe threw his head back and groaned was all the praise she needed.

Even though, as she bobbed her head up and down, Joe was heavy on the praise, "Such a good girl, making me feel so good, babe. God, don't stop..." when she took his entire length in her mouth, she felt Joe tug on her arm, bringing her back up to his lips, he kissed her deeply.

"My turn," he murmured as he pressed her down into the bed. Smiling, she snuggled down into the pillows behind her and sighed as Joe pressed kisses all over her tits, reaching his hands behind her and making quick work of her bra.

She ripped it from her body and threw it to the floor as Joe danced his hands down to her cunt.

Stroking the inside of her thigh softly, dragging his fingers closer and closer to her entrance she whined, "Joe..." lifting his head from her chest, he smiled,

"What? Not moving fast enough for you?" She nodded frantically and Joe's eyes never left hers as he moved a finger to run up and down her folds.

With a gasp she threw her head back and Joe growled, "Shit baby, you're soaked. Who did this to you?"

"You...you did Joey. You always make me this wet."

"Always, huh? I think I'd remember if we hooked up before this." he smirked.

"Every time I touch myself I imagine you doing it..." she murmured as she bucked her hips up to get his fingers closer to her entrance which meant she missed how comically wide Joe's eyes got and was caught off guard when he planted another kiss on her lips.

"Those are the hottest words I could ever hear come from your mouth." she breathed out a laugh and then she felt her eyes rolling into the back of her head as Joe slowly inserted two fingers into her cunt.

"F-fuck Joe, that feels so good..." Her voice trailed off as Joe started pumping his fingers into her slowly, relishing in the feel of the walls of her pussy tightening as he sought out the one spot that would make her lose her mind. After a particularly deep thrust that had her eyes rolling into the back of her head Joe leaned down to kiss her neck.

Speeding up his fingers she felt her cunt clench, between his fingers and the way he was kissing on her neck, she knew was going to cum soon.

"Joe...I-I'm gonna cum"

"Good, want you to. Want you to cum around my fingers and then around my cock. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart? Want to feel how good I make you.”

Making a whining noise in her throat she reached a hand up to the back of Joe's neck to reconnect her lips with his.

Pumping his fingers in and out of her he started to swirl his thumb over her clit and she moaned into his mouth, "Fuuuuck, Joe, don't stop"

"Wasn't planning on it" he chuckled into her mouth as he felt how close she was. Pressing more firmly on her clit, (Y/N) saw stars and she didn't even have time to warn Joe before the waves of her orgasm crashed over her.

As she came down, she was aware of tightly she was gripping onto Joe's hair and let go with an apology.

"Never apologize for pulling my hair when I make you cum like that. Truly, it's a small price to pay to see someone as beautiful as you cum because of me." Blushing, she reached her hands down to shimmy her panties down her legs and throw them into her room.

Grabbing her hand, he gave it a kiss and they stared deep into each others eyes, she reached a hand down, brought his fingers up to her mouth and licked them clean of her juices, keeping direct eye contact the whole time.

Joe's eyes darkened, "I need to fuck you. Now."

"What are you waiting for then? Please fuck me, Joe." she cooed as she brought his fingers out of her mouth with a pop. Reaching her hand down, she pumped his cock a few times as Joe growled.

Batting her hand away, he guided his cock to the entrance of her cunt, swiping it up and down her folds, "God, there's nothing hotter than getting my cock wet with your own juices, baby girl."

"Fuuuuuck, Joe" she whined as she brought her hands up to rest on his biceps, squeezing them and laughing when she felt him flex, "Did you just purposefully flex?"

Winking at her he pushed himself fully inside. Giving them both a minute to adjust, he brought his forehead down to rest on hers. Both of them closing their eyes and breathing each other in, it was the most vulnerable moment they'd shared with each other.

This one moment, where they were closer than they had ever been, it felt so right they couldn't quite believe that in a city of thousands, they fit perfectly together.

"Joe?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"If you don't move soon I'm gonna be pissed."

Laughing, he kissed her nose and started to thrust. Throwing her head back, she let out a string of curses as her hands clutched the sheets, feeling the walls of her cunt clench around Joe's length.

"Fucking hell, feel better than I ever imagined."

"You feel a hell of a lot better than my vibrator" she choked out as Joe let out a single bark of laughter, thrusting harder. He lifted her legs so they were over his shoulders, enjoying how the new angle let him get deeper inside her, and by the way (Y/N) had started babbling about how close she was, he had a pretty good idea it felt amazing for her as well.

"Fuck, Joe. Rub my clit. I'm so close. Again..." a moan swallowing the rest of her sentence as Joe started rubbing her clit.

Seeing her writhe underneath him, knowing he was the cause of her pleasure and the fact that this was all happening while she was wearing his Yankees cap was almost too much for Joe.

"Sweetheart, I'm close.." he choked out as (Y/N) nodded, "Me too, want to cum with you..." she murmured and Joe nodded, thrusting harder as she brought a hand up to tweak her nipples.

Pressing more firmly into her clit, (Y/N) felt her pleasure overtaking her body and succumbed to the orgasm that swept over her. Feeling her walls clench around his cock was the final push Joe needed. With a final groan, he filled her with his love, taking a minute to catch his breath.

When they finally both opened their eyes they burst into giggles,

"Hey."

"Hi" Joe breathed out as he tweaked her nose

Scrunching her nose, she reached her head up to press a gentle kiss to Joe's lips. Pulling himself from her, they both moaned at the loss of contact and after cleaning them up, he crawled into bed next to her, pulling her into his arms.

"God, that was...amazing"

"And long overdue in my personal opinion."

"Yeah, ya think?" he pressed a kiss to the top of her head then pulled back with a disgusted noise.

"What? Does my hair smell bad? Do I have lice or something?" pulling back she looked up into Joe's eyes.

"No, this hat smells nasty. I can't believe you wore it when we had sex, who would do that?"

"Don't lie, it was the one final push you needed to cum, yeah?"

"I don't have to admit anything to you" he sniffed as she curled up into his arms.

Nuzzling into his chest, she placed a soft kiss right on top of his heart. Humming, he drew her in closer, closing his eyes and locking into his memory how it felt to hold her in his arms.

His eyes snapped open, “Wait, hold on,” he jumped up, ignoring her protests as he rummaged around on the floor.

“Joe, c’mon, come back and snuggle.” Pouting she turned only to be met with the lens of Joe’s camera focused on her.

“JOE! I’m NAKED! What is your PROBLEM?” Scrambling, she threw the sheet over her form, peeking over the edge so only the hat and her eyes could be seen. They narrowed as Joe laughed, taking picture after picture of her.

“Holy shit, there’s a really great one here. I think I managed to capture the exact moment your soul left your body when you realized I was taking pictures...” his voice trailed off as he swiped through the photos he’d taken, smile growing bigger with each one.

“Glad you’re enjoying those horrible pictures. You better burn those Joe, I’m serious.” Pulling the sheet down to her neck, she fixed him with her best glare. It didn’t last long.

How could it when he looked up at her with adoration radiating from his eyes?

“You’re so beautiful.”

Her indignation drained and she sat up, patting the bed, “Come back to me. Please?”

Joe climbed into the bed, kneeling in front of (Y/N) to kiss her softly, “I’ll always come back to you.”

Hiding her head in his shoulder, she pressed a kiss to the soft skin there, fighting back the tears she felt welling up suddenly. Pulling back she heard the click of the camera one more time.

Joe lowered the phone, “So beautiful.”

Taking the phone from him she turned around, her back against his chest as she held it aloft, “C’mon, first picture as a couple.”

Smiling, they took one good one and the rest were a mess. One or both of them pulling ridiculous faces. A series of pictures where Joe was obviously playing with her boobs. Their favorite one was where (Y/N) was mid-laugh and Joe was looking at her, the love between them written so clearly in their eyes that they felt like they were infringing on a private moment.

Looking at it, (Y/N) turned to Joe, “You think we’ll look at each other like that, even when we’re old?”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “Absolutely. You and I are gonna be like that old lady at the baseball game and her husband.”

“Are you calling me a hussy?”

“Again, I’m just calling them like I see them.”

“I feel like you shouldn’t call your own girlfriend a hussy.”

“Oh so you’re my girlfriend now?” Joe rolled on top of her, peppering her face with kisses as she laughed.

“Well I won’t be if you keep calling me a hussy!”

“What if I only called you a hussy when we’re getting sexy?”

Pausing, she reflected on Joe’s proposition, “Hmm, I guess that could be okay. But can you not call it Getting Sexy? That makes it decidedly not sexy.”

“Alright, we’ll come up with something good. Though you should definitely always wear The Sex Hat whenever we fuck.”

Sighing, she flicked the brim of the hat she was still wearing, “I set a dangerous precedent by wearing this, huh?”

“Darling, you have no idea how dangerous you in that hat is.” Joe growled as he nipped her neck.

“Mmm, I think I have a pretty good idea.” She smirked as she tilted her head to the side, “It’s just enough to distract you so I can do this.”

“Wha-” Joe hit the bed with an grunt as she slide out from underneath him and raced out of the room.

“I’M GOING TO EAT THE LAST DUMPLING AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME.”

Pushing himself up, Joe raced after her into the kitchen, knowing he’d be too late to stop her but he wanted to be around to imprint the image of (Y/N) naked in his kitchen into his brain for forever.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello one shot #joe mazzello smut #baseball!joe #i miss baseball so much gang #might have to watch undrafted just to feel something

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uas-fics · 5 years

Text

Title: Capturing Bigfoot's Heart With A Macrame Net

Summary: Tweek saw Bigfoot last weekend! This weekend he is going to catch him and prove he’s not crazy. It was all going well, too, until Tweek gets himself stuck in his own trap. He’s sure he’s doomed — until help arrives in the most unexpected way: Bigfoot himself.

Rating: T

Ships: Creek

Others: For @creekcrew‘s Creek-Week 2019, enemies to lovers.

Y'all can blame Griffin McElroy for this.

Read one Ao3 ---

Tweek opened his arms and dropped his haul on the counter. Fishing line, rope, a swiss army knife, bug spray, bear repellant, everything he would need on his one and only trip to an outdoor supply store. The cashier looked up with a bored expression. She yawned.

"Going camping?" She asked. Her tone indicated her query came more from obligation to her job than actual curiosity.

"Hunting," Tweek corrected as she scanned the swiss army knife.

The woman frowned. She turned and craned her head to look at a sheet of paper tacked up to a corkboard behind her.

"Nothing is in season. It's spring. That's illegal." The woman set down the rope without scanning it. "Come back in November when the season starts."

"No, it's fine. I checked with my friend. He's a conservation officer. It's totally legal to hunt the animal I'm after any time of year." He stole a quick glance at her name tag. "Really, Trisha, it's fine! I'm not really 'hunting,' either. More...capturing. It's for science!"

Trisha cocked at an eyebrow at him but picked the rope back up. "What animal are you even talking about?"

Tweek grinned. "Bigfoot."

Trisha dropped the rope with a start. "Excuse me? Bigfoot?"

"Bigfoot. The Sasquatch. The hairy man of the forest. I saw it last weekend." Tweek tried to keep his nerves in check. Everyone else called him crazy when he told them about his bigfoot encounter. Trisha didn't know him, so maybe if he spoke professionally and calmly, she would think he was sane.

"And you're going to catch him," her voice sounded dubious, but she didn't accuse him of making it up, "with a rope?"

"Yeah. I'm setting a trap this weekend where I saw it," Tweek told her. "Near the lake, on the north side. I think leaving some beef jerky out will attract it, since I saw it take a package when it ran off."

Trisha hummed. "And how do you know you didn't just see a bear? Bears go out in the woods sometimes."

"I know what a black bear looks like, and they don't walk on their back legs."

"That wasn't the kind of bear I meant." Trisha chuckled at the frown across Tweek's face. "I'm kidding. It's ok, by the way. My brother is gay, so I can make those jokes."

Tweek opened his mouth, then shut it with a shake of the head. "No, it's really...I saw bigfoot, not a hairy man or an actual bear. I really did, and I'm going to catch it to prove it."

Setting the last of the items in a bag, she hit a key on the cash register. The total popped up on the digital display.

"If you do catch bigfoot, will you hurt him?"

Tweek handed her his card as he spoke. "I don't want to. Even just having a hair sample or clear photo is enough."

Trisha thought about that as she ran his credit card. While the receipt printed, she handed his bags over to him.

Their fingers touched as he took the plastic handles. She met his eyes.

"If you do see bigfoot, be careful." Her tone was dead serious and her eyes demanding. "He might be more dangerous than a normal bear."

Tweek swallowed and took a step back. He nearly tripped but awkwardly right himself. She never took her hard stare off of him.

"Y-yeah. I will. T-thank you?" Tweek stammered before making a beeline for the door.

"And you're sure," Tweek looped the rope around itself, "it's totally legal?"

From the other side of the phone, Stan sighed. "For the love of God, Tweek. Yes. You can 'hunt' bigfoot in our state without a permit. We're Colorado, not Washington. That said, if you bring a firearm into my forest and shoot something that isn't Bigfoot, I have the United State's Forestry Services on my side and will come and skin you alive."

"I don't even own a gun!" Tweek countered. "I'm taking a swiss army knife and a can of bear mace."

"With how noisy you normally are, any bear would go running." Stan laughed. "If Bigfoot was real, you're not going to catch it with beef jerky and a macrame net."

"Will too..." Tweek muttered under his breath, pulling the knot tighter.

"What did you say?" Stan shuffled on the other end. The humming of a microwave filled the background.

"Nothing..." Tweek held up his net and winced. He'd messed up some knots and the diamonds were uneven. Sighing, he began to pull at the rope. "You know, I don't get why you don't believe in Bigfoot. You're in the spookiest parts of the forest all day. You have to know there are things out there!"

"I know there are weird things out there. Demons and ghosts exist, but Bigfoot doesn't. Neither does Nessie or aliens or the Mothman." The clinking of a plate against the counter could be heard. "Those are made up."

"But ghosts and demons aren't?" Tweek rolled his eyes.

"I've seen ghosts and met a demon."

"And I've seen bigfoot!"

"Not the same."

The microwave beeped three times before Stan opened the door. With a chant of 'hot, hot, hot, hot! Hot bean burrito!' Stan dropped something onto his plate.

He sighed. "Look, Tweek, just don't bother getting your hopes up about actually proving Bigfoot is real. People have been trying for a lot longer than you with a lot of better equipment. If they can't catch it, then you can't either."

"I can catch him this weekend and I will!" Tweek tossed the net aside, too frustrated to continue. It landed over the top of his dwarf lime tree, knocking petals and dead leaves to the decorative macrame pot cozy.

"If you go this weekend, you'll have even less of a chance. It's going to rain hard on Saturday morning," Stan mentioned around a full mouth of his dinner. "If it's like a deer, it'll hunker down until the rain stops, and you won't be able to track it."

Tweek paused in hauling himself off the floor.

"So you think I should start looking on Friday instead?"

"I don't think you should look at all."

"Fuck you, Stan." Tweek reached for the phone as he stood straight.

"Talk to you later, Tweek."

Tweek dropped his phone back onto the coffee table. He looked over at his net draped across the lime tree and pursed his lips. What if Stan and everyone else was right? Maybe Tweek wasted his time planning to catch Bigfoot.

"No! I saw him. I'm going to get him!" Tweek shook his head and walked over to pick up his net and bring it to the table.

---

Tweek wrung his hands together in his apron as his dad wiped the counter and his mom went over the day's receipts. He took a breath.

"I need tomorrow off. I'll work on Sunday," He blurted out before he could talk himself out of it. His parents looked up from their respective tasks.

"Why do you need tomorrow off?" His dad threw the towel over his shoulder.

Tweek chewed his lip. He couldn't tell his parents he was going Bigfoot hunting. They wouldn't let him off for something like that. There was only one thing they would be totally ok with him taking the day off.

"I have a date," he lied. "I'm meeting him for a walk in the forest, and I figured going in the morning would be best so we could picnic before it got too hot. Late fall heat is the worst, right?"

His mom perked up. "A date? Do you have a date? That's wonderful, sweetie! What's his name? Where did you meet him?"

"I, uh, I don't know?" Tweek looked down at his feet. "Stan set me up with him? It's a blind date. He, that is my date, works in the forestry service, too. He's more comfortable there in town, but works nights in the forest house to watch for...wildfires? Yeah. He watches for wildfires."

That sounded so stupid. No way they would believe that! Why didn't he just call in sick tomorrow morning! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid--

"Well, of course, you can take the day off, son." His dad beamed. "You need to get a boyfriend. Be easier to continue the family name if you have a husband to adopt with you."

"Or use a surrogate," his mom added.

All the blood in his body rushed to his face. His family might have been supportive of Tweek being gay, but they still expected him to give them a grandchild and keep the Tweak name alive. Tweek didn't even know if he wanted kids, but he didn't get a choice. Why they didn't have another child instead of dumping the entire responsibility of it on him?

"It's easier to raise a child with another person, too. Right, dear?" His dad winked at his mom, who waved her hand in pleasant dismissal at him.

"I know, Dad," Tweek replied flatly. One day he would have to tell him this whole area of conversation made him uncomfortable, but not right then.

"You know, the 'Tweak' name was almost lost, son. When we came to America from Europe--"

"Great-great-great Grandpa Peter changed our name to 'Week' so we wouldn't be associated with the 'Tweaks' from the old country, but grandpa Tweek changed it back," Tweek recited the family story that he had heard a thousand times before.

Great-great-something-th Grandma Tweak was murdered back in Europe, and the family left that town, traveling around a generation until they caught a boat for the United States. The first Tweaks over changed the family name, until Grandpa Tweek got into a fight over with Great Grandma Lily because he didn't want to follow in the family tradition of pharisaical work, so he changed the name back to 'Tweak' and even changed his first name to another spelling of it and opened a coffee shop.

Then, years later, Richard Tweak had a son that he named after his father and fifteen years after that the family coffee shop was bought out by a Starbucks.

Despite his less than interested reply, his dad still started into the family lore for the umpteenth time. He finished with a tangent about how Grandpa Tweek's brave move proved how the Tweaks both valued traditional values and modern ones and that was why they made the best coffee.

"So, I'll take tomorrow off and work on Sunday?" Tweek cut in.

His mom nodded. "You may."

Tweek nodded back then made a beeline to the storeroom. The moment he shut the door, he slumped down and let out a sigh of relief.

---

It was Friday morning, and Craig was tired but amused. He sat amongst the thick foliage of a tree, hairy legs pulled to his equally hairy chest as that weirdo ran around the forest floor with a net.

The weirdo would set the net down in one place, start to pile leaves over it, only to stop and shake his head before pulling the net from the leaf litter and taking it to another spot and repeating the process.

Thus far Craig counted the weirdo moving his net from place to place five different times before finally nodding to himself and taking more rope from his pack.

Craig came to the conclusion he was setting up traps, but he didn't know for what--until he watched the weirdo dig around his bag and produce a king-sized package of beef jerky.

That weirdo came marching around the woods last weekend, loudly talking to himself about nature being healthy so long as a bear didn't eat him alive. He blocked the quick way home, so Craig waited while the weirdo sat down, crossed his legs, and played some sort of guided meditation on his phone.

Once the weirdo finished he stood up to take something from his backpack, only to dump everything out. Craig watched with great amusement as the weirdo scrambled to pick it all up before heading back towards the trail.

What happened next, Craig refused to take the blame for. His mom sent him with a bunch of "healthy" foods this month under the excuse that she worried about his sodium, so the moment the scent of beef jerky — teriyaki beef jerky, at that — came to his nose, he couldn't stop himself from hurrying over to pick up the fallen snack. Dried and canned fruit and vegetables could never hold a candle to jerky.

He had just started chewing when someone gasped behind him. He spun around in time to see the weirdo's blond chestnut-like hair poke out from behind a tree. Holding tight to the jerky, Craig took off and luckily the weirdo didn't follow.

With a snort, Craig shook his head at the weirdo as he set the jerky in the middle of the trap. Realizing he didn't open it, the weirdo tiptoed closer to the middle of the net. In a blur of yellow and greens, one of his traps sprung and the weirdo found himself swinging from his ankle in a snare trap.

His hands waved around wildly as he tried to stop himself from swaying back and forth. The weirdo groped towards his ankle in a desperate attempt to free himself. Craig snorted a laugh into his paw.

Wow, this guy was a real winner! Gets stuck in his own snare. That what he gets for thinking Craig could be so easily captured.

Seeing as his entertainment current dangled like a wild animal a foot off the ground, Craig saw no point in staying around any longer. He climbed out of the tree and lowered himself to the ground. Taking his long coat from a nearby tree branch, he pulled it on, shoved his paws in his sweatpants pockets and walked towards home. He readjusted his hat, pulling the brim to shield his face.

One weirdo trying to find him was more than enough. At least he was lucky this weirdo was incompetent. He really thought a rope and a net could catch someone like Craig? Craig was nearly six-and-a-half feet tall — a trait surprisingly thanks to his red-haired giant of a father and not his mother's cursed genetics.

If he was swept up in a trap, he could just use his stupidly long arms to escape, if the trap could even get him off the ground.

The weirdo sobbed loudly, his voice carrying through the trees.

"It's not fair!" He wailed. "I just-I just wanted to prove I'm not crazy! Now I'm going to die and everyone will think I'm just making it all up again. I'm so stupid...stupid and going to die..." His cries trailed off into softer mumble that Craig couldn't hear until the weirdo blurted out, "Who will water my plants and take care of my parrot?! They'll all die too! I'm a terrible plant and pet parent..."

Craig stopped. He squirmed, tapping his fingers against his sweatpants.

"Don't do it, Craig. Don't fucking do it," he muttered to himself, even as he turned around and stalked towards the weirdo stuck hanging in the air.

---

Tweek tried to blink the tears away but failed. It was all too much. If he didn't catch bigfoot today, he could have handled that disappointment. If he at any other time sprung a snare trap on himself, he could have handled the embarrassment. But both of those feelings at the same time? Not a chance.

He sniffled, defeated and alone. No one would come out this far into the woods. He was going to starve or be eaten alive by bears like some flesh pinata! Worse yet, his plants will wilt without him there. Ok, the golden pathos by the window in the self-watering pot might be ok for a while, but his lime tree, lucky bamboo, peace lily? They were going to suffer and wither away!

And his parrot, Kiwi, what about Kiwi? He was going to be lonely without Tweek to talk to, then he'd run out of birdseed in a day or two and water not long after that. The plants could die in silence, but Kiwi would go out with a racket. Maybe his noises would bring the neighbors to call the landlord and he would help save Kiwi and the plants.

Oh, who was he kidding? The landlord didn't do anything. That's why the rent was so cheap.

Tears rolled from the corner of his eyes down his forehead to his hairline. Sniffing up the mucus in his nose, Tweek swung himself up. He reached for the rope but couldn't bend forward enough.

He couldn't reach the rope and his knife fell out of his pocket on the net trap, so what escape did he have?

His lip quivered. How was this fair? All of Tweek's life was an uphill battle: His parents using him as a free labor since he could walk, school kids teasing him for being different in ways he couldn't ever help, being the only gay kid in a little hick town, believing in thoughts and ideas that no one else around did.

His parents wondered where on Earth his anxiety disorders could have come from, but Tweek knew it was all that pressure constantly crushing him under its massive weight of grief and doubt and worthlessness.

And now, just as the cherry on top of the world's worst sundae, his attempt to prove himself and get a confidence boost backed fired and let him hanging from a tree.

Tweek didn't even mean to set off the snare trap. He was being careful to step around it so he could open the jerky. This was what he got for trying to be clever, he supposed glumly.

"Hey, need some help?"

Tweek spun himself around best he could see a person standing near a tree in a long overcoat and wide-brimmed hat that shadowed his face.

"I-uh-" Tweek hiccupped a sob. "Yes. Please, get me down."

The person nodded. "How?"

"Cut-urk-cut the rope. There is a knife there near the beef jerky." He added as the person walked towards the jerky, "be careful. It's a net--"

The net trap sprung, sending the knife flying up over the person's head. Unlike Tweek, the person didn't get pulled into the air. The net tangled around his legs and the person fell forward. His weight kept the trap from fully closing around him, but it did ensnare his limbs.

Swearing the person flailed around. He attempted to keep himself from falling by planting his massive foot down through the net until he pulled his body back, leaving his coat left with the beef jerky bag in the trap. His hat flew off, exposing a hairy face with a pig snot with tusks.

With the net around his leg, he twisted and went down. He threw his hands forward to break his fall.

"FUCK!" He shouted, holding his hand to his chest.

Tweek's mouth gaped. "You-you're--Bigfoot?!"

Bigfoot glared at him. "No shit, dipwad! Fuck, dammit..." He clenched his hand before holding it out. A long gash opened across his large, bear-like paw.

"Jeez!" Tweek flailed. "You're hurt! You're bleeding! Let me down! I have a first aid kit! Ohmigod! What if you get an infection? They'll cut your hand off and it'll be all my fault! Please, please, let me down!"

Bigfoot paused and stared at him, his strange face wearing an unreadable expression. Slowly, he reached for the bloody knife then stood. He took a step and winced, but didn't speak. While holding the bleeding paw to his chest, he went to the rope and sliced through it.

The ground hit Tweek's cheek, hard and cold. He yelped, falling over himself. After blinking the stars from his eyes, he scrambled on hands and knees towards his bag. Throwing protein bars, rope, fishing wire, and a flare to the ground, Tweek pulled the first aid kit from the bottom of the pack.

Bigfoot slumped to his knees next to Tweek.

"That is a whole ass first aid kit," Bigfoot commented.

"What, do you think I'd go into the woods with just a box of bandaids?" Tweek opened the kit.

As Tweek pulled the rubber gloves over his hands, Bigfoot shrugged, "I thought it would be one of the pocket ones."

Tweek unscrewed the top to the antibiotic cream and held out his hand for Bigfoot to offer up his wound. He squeezed the cream along the gash. He probably should clean it first, but he didn’t have any water he hadn’t already drunk out of and didn’t think Gatorade would be the best way to clean a wound.

"I would never come so unprepared." Tweek set the cream down to take up the gauze. "What if I fell and broke my ankle?"

Bigfoot scoffed, "Yeah, well, I think I hurt mine in the rope."

Tweek gasped, pulling the gauze tightly. "What?!"

Bigfoot yelped, jerking his paw back as Tweek dumped the first aid kit onto the forest floor.

"Ah no! shit!" He swore. "The ice pack! There should be an ice pack thing in here? Where is it? Did I forget to take it out of the freezer from last time?"

As he frantically researched the first aid's kits contents, Bigfoot began to snort, then burst out laughing.

"Fuck. You came to catch me and put me in a zoo or kill me or some shit, and now you're freaking out over me being hurt? The hell kind of guy are you?"

Tweek frowned. "I never wanted to put you in a zoo or kill you. All I wanted was to prove you're real, but you got hurt because of me. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Run away screaming like everyone else in the world?"

This time, it was Tweek who laughed. "I'm told I'm not like everyone else. It's why I'm out here in the first place — to prove to everyone else you are real and I'm not crazy."

Bigfoot raised his eye ridges up in surprise at Tweek's earnest words. He hummed and looked down at his wounded paw. Finally, he took a breath.

"If you can help me get home, I have an ice pack there."

Tweek flinched, nearly dropping the container of cotton balls. He turned his gaze over to Bigfoot. "Would that make it up to you?"

Bigfoot nodded. "It would."

Quickly, Tweek threw the medical supplies into the kit. He had to crunch a box to shut it but didn't mind. He scrambled to shove everything back into his pack before picking the net up in his arms. After holding it for a moment, he shook his head and set it over a tree branch like drying clothes over a line.

With a little guidance from Bigfoot, Tweek hauled him to his feet. Tweek's legs bowed under the weight, but he took a breath and powered on carrying Bigfoot through the forest.

---

"My name is Craig." Craig told the weirdo after the weirdo erroneously referred to him as 'Mr. Bigfoot.'

"That's a very...normal name?" The weirdo gently shouldered Craig around a log that they couldn't step over. "I mean! I didn't expect bigfoot--a bigfoot--to...urk...um..."

Craig eyed weirdo for the millionth time. He liked him. Most people Craig knew weren't earnest and didn't admit when they'd messed up. Most people Craig knew would have run screaming or killed him. The weirdo blew his expectations out of the water.

"I'm not really bigfoot bigfoot, you know." Craig watched his expression carefully as he went on. "I'm cursed, actually."

"Cursed?" He frowned. "It's not contagious, is it? I work at a cafe. I don't want to wear a whole body hair net."

Craig snorted before realizing the weirdo wasn't joking.

"No, of course not," he said and the weirdo sighed in relief.

"So, why? What caused it? Wait, err, am I allowed to ask that? Is that rude?"

"A little," Craig admitted, "but I started the topic, after all. Turn here. My home is at the next bend. I'll tell you all about my stupid family curse when I've down a few aspirins."

---

"No one expects a monster to live in a cozy cabin!" his dad used to say, but only when Mom wasn't around since she would glare at him for calling their son 'a monster.' Looking at Tweek's awed expression, though, Craig had to agree with his dad’s assessment.

As Craig threw a couple of aspirin in his mouth, he watched the weirdo sink down into the ancient floral couch to take in the one-room cabin. Craig sucked a pouch of Capri Sun to down the pills while the weirdo crossed his ankles, picking up the lacy doily on the coffee table.

"My grandma decorated it," He answered the unasked inquiry about the frilly decor. "Grandad use to use the place when the curse happened to him. She wanted to give it a 'homey touch.'"

Finishing off the juice pouch, Craig attempted to overhand toss it into the trash can near the stove but missed.

He went to stand and flinched, having forgotten about his ankle. The weirdo jumped to his feet to put the pouch in the trash before stooping down to readjust the ice pack across Craig's ankle.

"Um, thanks?"

"No, this is all my fault. I should help however I can," he told him without standing up. He perched on his toes, looking at the swollen, hairy ankle and giant foot.

"The curse," he started, "you said it was a family curse?"

Craig nodded. "Yeah, my great, great, great, great, great grandfather pissed off a witch and she cursed him."

"A witch?" The weirdo rested his wrists on his knees. "How?"

"He had her burned her at the stake."

"What?!" The weirdo fell backward. "He killed her!?"

"Yeah. He was a trained doctor. Apparently, she was offering free medical care so people weren't going to him, and he accused her of being a witch. So he was, technically, right. Before the set the fire, she cursed him." Craig took a breath then soberly quoted, "'Be a beast upon the outside that is on the inside, a month a season, foul man and his sons and sons and sons until repentance is spoken and a kiss be given from my line to yours.'"

"What does that mean?" The weirdo asked. "I'm confused."

"It means once a month every season, every man born on my mom's side of the family has to look like this." He held out his paws, glaring at them. "The only way to break the curse is to tell the witch’s descendants that we're sorry for what our ancestor did then hope one of them forgive us enough to want to kiss one of us."

The weirdo righted himself, sitting cross-legged. "Do they not forgive your family?"

Craig slumped down, crossing his arms. "We can't even find them. They moved after the witch died but before the first month of the curse. My grandad tried to track them down but..." He shook his head.

"But?"

"But he lost them when they left for America." Craig leaned his head back and shut his eyes. How many times had he heard Grandpa complain about that? More than a thousand times, probably.

'We were so close! How could they just disappear?' He'd say. Grandpa search for that family until the day he died. Craig never bothered. He wanted the curse gone, but he wasn't going to waste his time as a normal human grasping at straws to find this mysterious family line that might not even exist anymore.

The weirdo leaned forward. "Are you sorry? For what your grandfather did?"

"I can say with one hundred percent honesty that I am sorry that my grandfather got a woman killed because she was a better doctor than he was. We kept some of his journals and the guy was a dick." Craig scoffed. "He would lie to people about what they were sick with so they would keep coming back. He deserved this curse. I don't."

The weirdo hummed and looked at Craig's ankle again.

"It's a clever curse," The weirdo mused under his breath. "You can't fully live as bigfoot but you can't fully live as a person either."

"Yeah, it sucks. I can't keep a job or a boyfriend or an active social life," Craig ticked off on his fingers, "and I hate it." When he noticed the weirdo frowning at him, he added, "But at least I have a nice place to crash during the months I'm cursed. Mom always sends a bunch of supplies."

At the reminder of Mom's all fruit and veggies supplies, Craig reached out for the pack of jerky. They lapsed into silence as Craig ate. The weirdo wore a contemplative look, his eyes rolling around to take in the cabin as he thought.

When the silence grew too awkward, Craig asked, "So, did you believe in 'bigfoot' before you say me last week or did you always believe?"

The weirdo jumped from his thoughts. "Oh! Of course. All my friends said I am crazy for believing in Bigfoot and aliens and ghosts. But I was right about one of them, so maybe the rest are real too."

"Well, of course, aliens are real. You'd have to be really dumb to think we're the only planet with sentient life in the universe." Craig tossed another piece of jerky into his mouth. "Ghosts are probably real too. There is too much evidence of them to be completely fake."

"Thank you!" The weirdo threw his hands up. "That's what I keep telling people! What about Nessie? Do you believe in the Loch Ness Monster? What about Mothman?"

---

Craig tilted his Capri Sun as he spoke. "Clearly the Fresno Nightcrawlers are aliens."

Tweek scooted a little closer on the couch towards him, his knees nearly touching Craig's side. If it bothers Craig, he didn't make a protest for Tweek to move back. That was fine with Tweek. He really liked Craig, bigfoot cursed monster or not. Once he accepted Craig's weird appearance, he found Craig to be one of the best conversations he'd had with a long time.

"They have to be. No animal could walk like that," Tweek agreed. "The weird way they walk is probably because of Earth's gravity. I think their home planet must have higher gravity."

"What do you think they came here for? To study us?" Craig reached into a bag of banana chips. He held out the handful to Tweek. His fingertips brushed the gauze across his paw. Instead of picking up the chips, he slowly dragged his fingers off the gauze onto Craig's leathery pad, lingering against the warm skin, before he took the chips from Craig's paw.

Craig closed his paw around the rest before dropping it to his lap. The tips of his furless bear ears burned red. Tweek smiled softly. That was adorable.

"I think they're here just to check us out. Earth is a very interesting place," Tweek threw a chip in his mouth, "don't you think?"

Craig nodded. "Yeah. Really interesting. Just like you..." He furrowed his brows a moment. "I don't know your name. I never asked."

"You didn't?" Tweek scrunched up his face in thought. "You didn't."

"I guess I have to ask now." Craig flashed a smile, showing off his tusks and teeth. "What's your name?"

Tweek took a chance and moved close enough that his knees touched Craig's side before leaning until he was close enough to be completely in Craig's personal space. Craig's smile wavered into an embarrassed expression for a second before it returned more pleased than before.

"My name is Tweek." Tweek introduced himself in a low voice.

The smile fell and he started shaking his head. "'Tweek'?"

His face flushed with embarrassment, Tweek scooted back until there was a couch cushion between them.

"Yeah, um, it's a dumb name. I was, eer, named after my grandpa. His name was Tweek, or it was when I was born, or ugh! His name was Tyler Week, then he changed it to Tweek Tweak, since 'Tweak' was our name back in the old country--I mean, before the family came to the US, from Europe--because," Tweek realized then he was rambling, but couldn't stop himself now, "he didn't want to be a pharmacist, which is what the family had been for generations. Grandpa Tweek wanted to be a coffee shop owner."

Tweek covered his mouth to keep him from talking any more when he noticed the wide-eyed look on Craig's face.

"'Tweak'..." Craig repeated slowly. "It can't...no. That's impossible." He shook himself.

"Sorry," He muttered, "I, uh, I know 'Tweek' is a weird name, but it is my real name. I swear. I'll get out my driver's license."

"Where in Europe did your family come from?"

"Huh?"

"Where in Europe did you family come from? What country? Or do you know why they left?"

Tweek tilted his head. "Um, I think it was...um, Belarus? Ukraine? Somewhere in Northern Europe. Once my great something-th grandparents came here, they tried to distance themselves from the 'Tweaks' in Europe, so they didn't talk much about it, or that's what I was told."

Craig looked at Tweek like he just solved the biggest secret of the universe. He beamed and grabbed Tweek's hands in his own.

"You can break the curse!"

"I can what?!" Tweek nearly choked on his tongue. "What are you talking about?"

"The witch's family? Their name was 'Tweak'!" He squeezed his hands.

"But-but-but I can't do magic. I'm not a--" The word caught in his throat. This couldn't be possible. If Tweek's family was the same in Craig's story, then his murdered grandmother was burned at the stake for being a witch.

"Maybe it got diluted? Your family stopped marrying other witches after one of them was burned. Tweak isn't a common name. My family couldn't find them after they left Europe. Yours changed their name when they left. You don't think that's a coincidence?" Craig looked into Tweek's eyes.

"A lot of families changed their names, and, um," Tweek floundered. "You really think I might be able to lift your curse?"

Craig nodded. "Yes. If you accept my apology and kiss me, it should break it. I can live normally." He paused then added, "And not to brag, but I am told I am very handsome. You're missing out on seeing my good face, just saying."

Despite himself, Tweek snorted a laugh. With a breath, he pulled his hand from his paws and dropped his palms on Craig's arms.

"Ok, if my 'magic' was diluted, I don't know if it'll work, but we can try," Tweek offered.

Craig planted his paws on either side of Tweek.

"I apologize for my ancestor and what he did against your family," Craig apologized, leaning in closer to Tweek.

Tweek moved his head to the side, muttering, "I forgive you for what happened." His eyes flicked up once more to Craig's monstrous face. Nerves twisted his gut. He wanted to be the right person. He wanted to be the Tweak with the magic kiss to fix Craig.

Before he could psyche himself out of it, Tweek kissed Craig. His lips were chapped and oddly cold, but the massive paws lifted to his sides were warm enough to make up for it.

As Tweek squeezed Craig's arm and leaned in deeper, the door to the cabin swung open.

"Hey, Craig, some guy is coming to hunt you this weekend. Being the best little sister I am, I...see you already met him." the shop clerk from the outdoor store froze with one foot in the air.

They gasped and pulled back from each other. Tweek could feel the tips of his ears burning while Craig gently pressed the bear-like claws of his paw protectively into Tweek's side.

"Trisha!" Craig snapped. "Haven't you heard of knocking! Damnit!"

"How was I supposed to know you were going to seduce a man who literally bought a knife to gut you with from me!" Trisha stomped her foot.

"I wasn't going to gut him!" Tweek tried to interject, but Craig and Trisha ignored him.

"You still need to knock. I could have naked."

"I've seen it all before. Are you that desperate for company! Mom told you to bring your pet with you."

"A, I don't want Stripe to see me like this. It would scare him. B," Craig gestured to Tweek. "His name is Tweak, like the witch? There was a reason for this kiss, you butt-sniffing brat."

At this Trisha paused to give Tweek a critical eye the moved her gaze to Craig.

"Doesn't look like it worked," she commented dryly. Craig glanced down at himself and winced.

"Sorry," Tweek apologized, slipping his hand from his arm.

Tweek didn't know how many more Tweaks there were in the world, but whoever the right Tweak was, they were a lucky bastard, Tweek decided, wishing Trisha hadn't shown up. He really wanted to kiss Craig again or keep kissing him as the case may be.

"It's fine. I shouldn't have been so sure about it." Craig raised a shoulder. "Thanks for helping anyway." Tweek felt Craig's soft gaze on his face, but he couldn't look him in the eyes.

Trisha looked between then. She rolled her eyes, shouldering off her backpack.

"So, I brought some Sonic," Trisha took out a paper bag, "but only two orders, so, like, you have to share, because I am not giving up my tater tots."

As she dropped the Sonic bag on the table, Tweek started to stand up. He didn't look at Craig's face. He couldn't stand the disappointment he would see if he did.

"I should get home, actually. I--"

"It's going to storm. You'd either not make it to your car," Trish commented idly as she took out a foil-wrapped burger, "or you'd be driving in heavy rain on shitty roads. You might as well stay the night."

Craig grabbed his wrist. "You should. Safety and stuff."

Tweek squirmed, unsure, before accepting the invitation and sitting back down with his side nearly touching Craig's.

---

The smell of cinnamon and apples filled the cabin. Craig poked his nose out of the sleeping bag.

"You actually know how to make this off the top of your head?"

"Before Starbucks bought out my family's cafe, I baked muffins every day."

Oh, that's right. The cute weirdo Tweek stayed the night sleeping on the couch. Craig snuggled back down deeper into his sleeping bag than he already was, enjoying the warmth and listening to the conversation near the stove.

As Trisha mocked her brother for not knowing how to make pancakes--that was a lie--Craig wondered if he could get away with taking her wallet and switching all her cards around without her noticing.

He needed to get brotherly revenge for both mocking his expert pancake skills as well as taking the cot. Tweek was the guest. He should sleep on the cot, not her. If not for the crochet blanket hidden under the couch, one of them would have had to sleep without any covering.

Craig nearly offered to let Tweek share his sleeping bag but stopped himself before he could make the night awkward. He didn't think asking Tweek to sleep next to him, in and of itself, would make anything weird. He had a hunch Tweek like him as much as he liked Tweek. With Trisha there, however? He shelved the idea.

After a couple of seconds of debating Craig decided against messing with Trisha. He'd get her back in the future when the possibility of backfire and making himself look like a loser in front of Tweek wasn't there.

With a sigh, Craig wriggled out of his sleeping bag. He stood, careful not to put too much wait on his ankle, and looked towards the stove.

Tweek and Trisha wore matching grimaces with a muffin in each hand.

"These taste, ah..." Trisha stuck her tongue out.

"You can say 'bad.'" Tweek dropped the muffin in his hand to the stovetop. "I think I messed up with the powdered buttermilk--or maybe it was expired. Hand me it."

Trisha reached into the cabinet over the sink. As she handed the powdered buttermilk to Tweek, Craig commented, "It's probably just bad. All the powder milk tastes disgusting."

Trisha's jaw dropped. Tweek's hand fell limply to his side while his face went the color of a tomato. The powdered buttermilk fell to the floor. It bounced once then rolled towards Craig. He raised his foot to stop it and nearly fell over himself.

The massive hairy foot he had lived with for four months every year of his life, and should have lived with for another two weeks, had shrunk and shed back down to its normal size. Heart pounding in his ears, Craig held out his arms then felt his face.

No thick layer of wiry hair. No bear claws. No pig snout. Just normal, human, features.

"Oh...oh my..." Craig blinked hard. "I'm..."

"You're an eight! Shit dude!" Tweek blurted out. "You said you were handsome, I didn't know you were this good? Why didn't you warn me better?"

"An eight?" Trisha scoffed. "He's a six and a half at best."

Craig opened his mouth to make a smart remark at his sister but stopped when the first tear rolled down his cheek. He blinked again before giving up and running over. He pulled both Tweek and Trisha into a warm bear hug.

Trisha fake gagged, "Blech. Gross. PDA from my brother." but patted his arm with a smile anyway.

Tweek kept quiet, but his eyes never left Craig's face. Everything from the collar of his shirt up glowed with a blush.

Craig squeezed them then took a step back. "Ok, sorry, had to, um, had to get that out of my system." He wiped his cheeks on his wrist, his completely human wrist.

"So--" Tweek's voice cracked. "So does this mean I am magic?"

"I guess so." Craig ran a hand through his hair, enjoying how soft it was compared to the stiff wiry bristles he used to have. Feeling slightly more composed he added, "maybe it was the magic of love at first sight."

He winked, Trisha rolled her eyes, and Tweek laughed.

Tweek leaned against the stove, his hand brushing the muffin he dropped. He looked at it then back up at Craig and Trisha.

"Even if I helped, I still did try to catch you yesterday, Craig. I haven't really made up for that, but do you think taking both of you out for breakfast is a good start?"

Craig didn't even have time to speak because Trisha threw her hands up and shouted, "Yes! Oh, thank God! I thought I'd be stuck here eating dried fruit sandwiches all weekend."

"Well, the sister as spoken." Craig raised a shoulder then reached out and took Tweek's hand. "Let's go."

Tweek beamed at him and squeezed his hand as Trisha went to gather her thinks.

“You know that I lied to my parents so I could get the day off yesterday,” Tweek commented.

“Oh? What did you say?”

“That I had a date in the forest.” He scooted a little closer to Craig’s side. “So, I was wondering, would you mind pretending that I came to meet you?”

Craig grinned, unable to help himself. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“If you want to go on one with me.”

Before Craig could answer with an enthusiastic agreement, Trisha threw open the door. The scent of rain and wet leaves filled the cabin with a cool breeze.

“You two can get all goo-goo eyed and stuff later. It’s a long hike back to the car, and I’m doing it on half a bite of bad muffin. You have ten minutes to get clean clothes on or you’re walking all the way to town.” She spun around and started off into the crispy morning.

Craig rolled his eyes and offered an apologetic smile at Tweek. Tweek hesitantly dropped Craig’s hand and took a step towards the door.

“I’ll wait outside with your sister.”

Craig gripped his hand, already missing the warmth of Tweek’s in his grasp, but nodded.

“I’ll be quick and grab some granola bars on the way out. We can eat them on the way to the car. While we discuss this date of ours.”

---

AN: Not gonna lie. I really had to stop myself from just continuing writing the last scene becuase of all the fluff. x3

#south park #creek week #sp creek #Craig Tucker #tweek tweak #trisha tucker #one-shot #fanfiction #bigfoot au #I can not believe I actually used that tag'

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spideycents · 5 years

Text

Spider-Man Songfic Series: I Don’t Care - Ed Sheeran & Justin Bieber

summary: Pre Infinity War, post Homecoming. Dinner with the Midtown Tech decathlon team after a day of competing.

word count: 1,554

pairing: PeterxMJ

WARNINGS: swearing

a/n: repost cause user error :P

*****

“How many?” The hostess at the restaurant asks.

Mr. Harrington turns around and starts counting heads. Ned rolls his eyes and answers for him.

“Eleven,” he smiles at her. “How are you doing tonight?”

“I’m alright,” she says simply as she collects the menus and steps out from behind her podium. “This way.” She starts walking and the decathlon team shuffles after her.

“So,” Ned continues. “What time do you get off tonight?”

“Dude,” Peter groans under his breath and quickly ducks past them to slide into one of the booths she’s led them to.

She doesn’t respond to Ned. She straight up pretends she didn’t hear him while she sets out the menus on the tables.

“Your waiter will be with you soon.” She smiles at the group, making a point of skipping over Ned while he tries to catch her eye, then heads back to her station.

“Smooth move Ex-Lax,” Flash laughs as he steps past Ned.

Ned slumps down into Peter’s booth on the opposite side of the table and picks up his menu.

“You good?” Peter asks him.

“Fine,” he responds. “Let’s just move on before Flash comes up with anymore insults.”

They look over their menus while the rest of the group picks their seats. Rather than push a few tables together so they’re all sitting together, probably because it’s a busy night and there seem to be quite a few big groups here already, the hostess gave them a few booths that are back to back and right across the aisle from each other.

Mr. Harrington and the other chaperone take their own table and the students cram into the remaining two. Peter and Ned end up sharing with four other people. Both pressed up against the wall, Ned sits next to Abraham with Cindy on the edge and Peter’s struggling for elbow room beside Charles, who’s decided to sit as comfortably as he possibly can while still giving Michelle enough space at the end. Peter’s forced to basically become one with the wall, because he’d rather be uncomfortable all night than make MJ sit on the corner of the seat.

“There’s room over here,” Flash says when he cranes his neck over the back of his booth.

They all glance each other, but no one moves.

Their table decides to split bottomless chips and salsa and they fall into overlapping conversations. Reviewing the questions from today’s meet, judging the students and their uniforms from the other schools, and picking back up the main topic most of Midtown Tech, and basically the whole country has been talking about again after another press conference with the Wakandan king: what the hell is really in Wakanda??

“It’s Area 52. No, strike that. Area 69.”

“Shut up, Charles.”

“It’s where they’re hiding all the clones they’ve made since those sheep.”

“How do we know for sure that those were the first?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s where they’re keeping patient zero of the zombie apocalypse.”

“It would’ve gotten out by now. Especially if it’s airborne.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

“It’s the biggest nuclear testing site.”

“How the fuck is it so green?!”

“It’s an illusion.”

“You’re all wrong. It’s where they’re keeping all the alien tech and survivors and shit from the New York battle and all the Avengers fuck ups since.”

Peter is very noticeably not adding to this conversation.

He’s taken the liberty of collecting all the remains of the straw wrappers from the table and is meticulously twisting them together.

“What are you making?”

He looks up, but the table is still immersed in their discussions.

“Looks cool.”

He turns to his right to find Michelle leaning back to see around Charles’ back.

Peter smiles slightly. “Thanks.”

“What is it?” she gestures at the paper scraps.

He looks back down at them and shrugs. “Not sure yet.”

“Looks kinda like a bug,” Cindy speaks up from across the table and Peter looks up to find that the whole table has turned their attention on him.

“Not a bug,” Abraham corrects. “More than six legs, possibly eight? Maybe it’s an arachnid.”

Peter’s eyes widen and quickly flick up to meet Ned’s who’s have also grown to the size of half dollars. He quickly crumples the papers in his hands and messes them into a ball.

“You’re all wrong,” he laughs lightly. “It’s a dung beetle. See, here’s it’s ball.” He opens his palm, displaying the crumpled paper and smiles awkwardly.

Everyone is looking at him like he’s insane.

Dung beetle was definitely not a good cover up. There are literally hundreds of thousands of insects out there and he had to go with dung beetle.

Nice one Peter. Real nice.

“Well anyway…” Charles cuts in, returning to their previous debate. “It’s Area 420.”

“And we’re done,” Ned says finally right as the waiter appears with their food.

Peter flicks his eyes to the side without turning his head and notices MJ looking questioningly at the ball of straw wrappers and then over to Peter and he quickly picks up his Coke and swallows some massive gulps before she notices he was watching her, because that fast response was totally a casual, normal thing to do.

Eventually, after they’ve all finished their food the two booths become one when the other teammates drag over chairs and sit at the end of the booth or get up on their knees on the cushions and crane their necks over the top of the seats. The conversations turn into random games and stupid things and someone, Flash, proposes the idea of shots.

“Don’t even think about it,” Mr. Harrington says loudly, without turning to look at them.

“Non-alcoholic,” Flash whines over his shoulder then turns back around in his chair. “Who’s all got Coke?”

Peter and a few others grab their glasses.

“Anyone got any leftover limes?”

A few students start picking them from their plates and Flash grabs an unused saucer to collect them.

“Okay,” he starts once he’s got everyone’s attention, which is surprisingly instant. “Here’s what you do…” He demonstrates by first: licking the back of his left hand, then shaking some salt onto it, then licking his hand again, taking a large swig of the nearest Coke, and biting one of the lime wedges. He swallows it all together and finishes with a loud “Ahhh!” like in every soft drink commercial ever.

“Gross,” Cindy says flatly.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” seconds Ned with an added grimace.

“Fuck it, I’m game,” Charles pops up.

“Do we have to lick our hands?” Betty asks.

Peter glances at Ned questioningly and Ned rolls his eyes.

“Pass me a lime,” he says.

Peter watches as everyone around the table takes their own non-alcoholic shot. Most are indifferent about it, a couple really don’t like it, and Charles goes back for seconds.

After Ned downs his like a champ, earning some noticeable praise from the table, it dawns on Peter that he’s the last one.

Or not.

“Cheers, loser,” MJ nods at him and holds up her Coke.

“Oh uh,” he picks up his own glass and raises it to hers. “Yeah, cheers.”

They smile slightly at each other and clink their drinks, then lick their hands and toss back their shots.

With their eyes on each other, Peter almost chokes on his Coke but manages to bite into the lime before things go south.

“I gotta be honest with you, Eugene,” MJ turns to him. “I think I would’ve preferred to wait to try the alcoholic shot first.”

Most of the table chimes in with a chorus of agreeds and sames and me toos.

Not long after, their parents start to arrive to take them home and the group starts to break off. When it’s down to only about five people left, they wander outside to wait.

Some people are hugging each other goodnight and it kinda feels like everyone’s supposed to hug each other so no one feels left out.

Peter and Ned dramatically fake sob into each other’s shoulders as they hug tight, then turn to their classmates to continue overdoing it with their goodbyes. That is, until Peter comes to his last hug, with MJ.

Unsure of who’s supposed to make the first move, they both end up hesitating for a step before wrapping their arms around each other. But, of course, neither knows which direction to go with their arms so they each end up with one arm over and one under.

“Bye MJ,” Peter says.

“Bye Peter,” she responds quietly.

And it’s almost as if in that moment, maybe their classmates aren’t around and maybe their hug lasts a second longer than the others and maybe their heads turn into each other’s necks rather crane over their shoulders and maybe their hands linger on each other’s arms as they maybe slowly separate and maybe they smile shyly at each other as they turn away and maybe Peter’s cheeks are still flushed when he climbs into his aunt’s car and maybe he spends the rest of the night analyzing the hug and whether it means anything significant.

Or maybe it’s just a hug and maybe they say see you tomorrow and maybe that’s it.

Or maybe they’re both still thinking about it when they fall asleep that night.

*****

Hope the run-on sentences didn’t annoy anyone. My editor thought I should cut them up or rewrite them, but I really like how they make you read like a spiral. They feel innocent and rambly to me so I hope they worked alright.

Let me know your thoughts in the tags or drop a review or more song suggestions in my inbox.

See ya in the next one! :P

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tuxiedjabberwock · 5 years

Text

Ft Big Bang - Smoke Always Follows Fire (Fairy Tail fan-fiction)

My piece for the @ft-bb Fairy Tail Big Bang event! Partnered with @h-eartfilias as my artist!

This is actually a part of the full story - I plan on making it multichaptered after all. It’s Rated M w/lime and features Edo!Nalu so read at your discretion

Mini fires from all over the school, of which he’s taken blame for, leads Natsu to the real source: Lucy Ashley. She counter-threatens him to reveal his underage circuit driving, and the game continues when they find more and more secrets to hold over the other. Soon enough, they’re in deeper waters than expected.

Although completely unintentional, fire always seemed to follow Natsu, and so as he ran down the school’s green with his bag bouncing on one shoulder, heavy textbooks in the other, he was distracted by the sight of it curling from a small building’s open window. So distracted, in fact, that he skidded to a stop, his sneakers scuffing against the wet crosshatched stone of the path as he spun around and warily stalked towards the source. For once, there was a fire and he wasn’t at the source—he had to look, even as his heart pounded out of his chest and his cowardice screamed for him to turn back and get to class before he was late.

The building wasn’t marked, but it was in the vicinity of the Art and Design section, so he believed it was one of those classrooms. And as he peered through the window, he spotted several literature-based posters pinned on the wall. English Composition, probably, he thought, daring to lean closer. And what a dare it was, as a slender but strong hand snapped out from inside and seized the color of his white polo shirt. He shrieked in alarm, eyes bugging out from his head. The owner of said hand quickly pulled into his peripheral, but all he could see were eyes like smoldering coals.

“—Oh,” said his accoster shortly, and a moment later he was released to the ground. His possessions scattered over the grass and he stared on with open-mouthed gasps as she met his gaze, arms crossed over her ample chest. Very short blonde hair pulled into a side ponytail adorned her head, and her face, while beautiful, was marred with a scowl. Pinched between two of her black-painted nails was a lit cigarette, the source of the smoke. “I thought you were someone else,” she said as means of an explanation, taking a drag. She never broke eye contact.

“I—uh—you—” Natsu stammered, but he couldn’t get any sensible words out.

“You’re that Natsu Dragion kid, aren’t you?” One hand curled into her cheek. “I’d recognize that dye job anywhere.”

It was on his tongue to say that no, that was actually his natural newborn hair color, but his tongue didn’t want to move to form the words.

“Don’t talk much, do you?” She raked her eyes over his frayed stonewashed jeans and long-sleeved polo. “Great. Makes this easier.” Removing the cig and pinching the tip between her nails, she tossed the butt into the trash and leaned close to him, close enough for him to count each golden-brown lash. “Say a word to anyone about this, you’ll be ashed faster than one of my fags. Well?” she said when he didn’t respond, baring her teeth.

“A-Affirmative!” Natsu said in a voice far too high-pitched to be his own. She snorted and turned her nose up.

“Who fuckin’ says affirmative?” She dusted off her black sweater and smoothed the folds of her far-below-regulation pleated skirt. “Whatever. Scurry away. I don’t want people to walk by and think we’re having a tryst.”

And as Natsu beat his hasty retreat—without scurrying, he might’ve added with a smidge more courage—he wondered how a top ditcher like her knew the word tryst.

——————

He saw her again the next week, and this time he discovered her name was Lucy Ashley. He knew because at the start of his mid-semester class, she loudly responded to the call of her name.

“I’m here, as you can see, Four Eyes,” she told the poor professor.

When Natsu’s name was called, he meekly responded upon feeling her eyes burning into the side of his face.

Like her, he was hoping never to have a second confrontation. Luck, on the other hand, would speak otherwise.

After class, he was alarmed to see her standing a way’s away in the hall beckoning him with a finger and a sugary smile. Fitting considered her insides were corroded and rotten. He stalked after her, still balking, and into another empty classroom, where she promptly locked the door and barred it with her body.

(Granted, she was a whole foot shorter and probably thirty pounds lighter, but he did not want to make a joke of the situation.)

“Are you stalking me or something?” she said, a nasty skew to the corner of her mouth. Her lipstick was the color of blackberries, and Natsu couldn’t help noting it matched her nails, but stood out stark as death against her pale and blonde complexion.

“N-No! Of course not!” Why would I be a glutton for punishment? “I just, uh—it’s, err, coincidence?”

“Coincidence,” she repeated. “Events which act in synergy by nothing but a casual connection.” He balked a little more openly as she set her hand on her cocked hip. She wore a denim skirt this time with ripped leather tights that certainly didn’t come that way, and a cut-up band t-shirt with a grey sweater hanging unbuttoned over her slim frame. “Although, since we never so much as breathed the same air before, I doubt this is a coincidence, Pinky.”

“W-Well…” Natsu’s words failed him and he took a step back. Lucy’s eyes narrowed and like a predator, she matched his step with two. They continued towards the other end of the room when (expectedly, since he wasn’t quite looking where he was going) Natsu pitched over a desk, overturning it and hitting the ground with a loud noise. He opened his mouth for a pained shout when Lucy’s hand suddenly clapped over his lips.

“Quiet,” she said under her breath. Natsu’s heart didn’t take the advice, pounding like a war drum, but he didn’t speak, and soon he detected the sound of footsteps. They passed after a moment, but Lucy remained unpleased. “They’re bringing security,” she said in a low voice. Her next action was hauling him up by the elbow and nearly dislocating his shoulder. God, she had a good right arm. “You drive?”

No, nonono. “Um, that’s not—it isn’t—I don’t r-really—” She released him and was next to the window in a few quick steps, hoisting it open and swinging through. The doorknob clicked and in a fit of nerves Natsu followed.

“Lookie there, Pinky’s playing truant,” Lucy said as he caught up with her. She moved quick for someone in platform boots.

“P-People will start thinking I’m a d-delinquent,” he said anxiously as they approached the parking lot.

“Maybe they’ll think you finally got that stick in your ass surgically removed.”

Natsu, amid going towards his car and pulling out his keys, gave her a scandalized look. Lucy was unrepentant as she circled the vehicle. “Uh-huh. ’02 Mustang. Wouldn’t have taken ya for a speed demon.”

You’d be surprised. “I, uh, I’m not.”

“Well anyway, in exchange for my not kicking your ass and letting you get off scot-free, you’re giving me a ride home. I guess you’re a notch above the shitty people on the train.”

“I-I-I’m sorry, b-but I—I j-just can’t—” The side of her fist hitting the roof startled him up, and he looked to see her dark expression.

“Drive, or else.” Natsu complied faster than he would like to admit, and quickly unlocked the car. Lucy slid in first, crossing her arms and legs and glaring at the dash. Gulping, Natsu took the driver’s seat. He was in his right mind up until the door clicked shut. “Well?” Lucy said, looking at him with a raised brow. “Are we going anywhere soon?”

“You didn’t say the magic word.”

“What?” Her brow arched further when Fireball Natsu gave her a flat look, hands locked behind his head.

“Let’s see… You threatened me over your folly, then dragged me into a classroom, and hijack my car for a ride. You got a nice face, Sugar Tits, but that ain’t a payment.”

“—Excuse me?” Lucy let out a little incredulous laugh before her hand snapped out to fist in his collar. “I don’t know where you’ve been hiding your pair this whole time, but it better get back in hiding if you know what’s good for you.”

“How about you listen?” In one move, Natsu grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her forward over the center console, bringing them face to face. He held her tight enough to bruise and said in a dangerously low voice, “You’re in my car. You don’t get to give orders to me in my car. Get that through your blonde skull.”

Lucy stared him down just the same, but her breath was coming a little quicker. Anticipation, or fear? Either way, he liked a fight.

“And you don’t make things happen snapping at me. The magic word’s a place to start.” He tossed her back and her back hit the door with a light thump. Lucy braced her hands against the seat and dash and made to move forward again.

“Quit fuckin’ with me, Dragion!”

“Another word of advice.” He turned the car on, threw it in drive, and laid on the pedal. The Mustang lurched forward and he made a sharp turn into an emptier section of the parking lot, throwing her back against the door again. “Always wear a seatbelt, eh?”

“So, what do you call all that?” Lucy said once she regained her bearings, giving him a murderous look. “An act? You’re damn near professional.”

“No, not an act. I wish it was.” He barely slowed before entering the main road and weaved through the early afternoon traffic with old experience. “It’s more than I want to explain to you anyway, Sugar Tits.”

“Okay, fine. You’ve made your stupid point, Dragion. Stop the car.” He ignored her and turned onto the highway where he really put the pedal to the metal. Lucy went flat against the seat with a surprised breath.

“Fireball. Call me that.”

“Fireball…” She scrutinized his face with narrowed eyes and the corner of his mouth quirked. He never disguised himself on the circuit, only wearing a pair of goggles that just about every other racer did, but he didn’t need to: people naturally saw no connection between the wimp-ass Natsu and the fastest man on four wheels, Fireball. “So, you race. Illegally, I should add. Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“Looks can be deceiving. I, for instance, thought you shitted rainbows, and look at us now,” he said very dryly. Lucy snorted.

“Well, Fireball, I don’t think you’re in a spot to talk about my smoking. You’re no law-abiding citizen either.”

“Then we have an agreement: neither of us blab.”

“For now,” she said darkly. “But for this, you can bet your ass I’ll find something else to dangle over you.”

“How about those tits?” He could hear her teeth grinding and grinned at the sound. “The main girl in my life’s my car, but I don’t mind making room for another.”

“Shove it up your ass.”

“It’s not my ass that’ll be on the receiving end, sweetheart.” Instead of responding, she whipped her head around to the window, but not fast enough for him to miss her blush. Well, well, it seemed like he found the trick to shutting her up. He was in a much more pleasant mood as he took the next exit to a rest stop. The overly large parking lot only had a couple worn buildings, a gas station and convenience store, before falling away to forestry on all sides. He hit the brakes where the little dirt road turned to asphalt. “And here’s your stop.”

“You’re shitting me. This is on the other side of town from my stop.”

“Heh. You must think I care.” He unlocked the doors and gave her a grin. “See ya, Sugar Tits.”

He continued grinning until five minutes later, she realized he wasn’t budging and grudgingly exited the vehicle. “I’ll get you back,” she said again before slamming his door shut. Then she strode off with her head high and Natsu leaned out the window to watch her retreating behind.

“And a good fucking day to you too!”

——————

For the next week Natsu fought to not even breathe the same air as Lucy Ashley. He was mortified over how he treated her as Fireball and terrified she would find another thing to blackmail him with on top of the unsolved fires around the school. So, he buried his head in his books during class and beat a hasty retreat as soon as the professor dismissed them. It worked until he was confronted by a thoroughly pissed-off Lucy (which, to be fair, might have been her default state, but this time she was extraordinary beyond normal standards).

“Boys’ bathroom, now.” She had cut him off in the cafeteria’s line almost literally breathing fire. Natsu’s fingers tightened around the plastic tray.

“I, I haven’t p-paid yet—”

THUNK!

Natsu had a bit of a memory lapse, and next thing he knew he was on the ground with his cup of Jell-O staining his blue shirt and the blood rushing to his left cheek. Lucy’s fist was still raised as she said in a very tight voice, “Move your ass, Dragion.” And she spun on her heel and swept past the curious onlookers.

“H-Hey, Natsu?” Someone came from behind and pulled him back to his feet. Natsu turned to see Gray offering him a glass of iced water.

“Thanks…” He pressed the glass to his swelling cheek.

“Who was that? And why is she so upset at you?”

“I…we…well, she met F-Fireball,” he said, averting his eyes. It was mostly true anyway. Gray’s eyes widened.

“Ooh. Yeah. Makes sense.” He looked at the cold Jell-O seeping through Natsu’s shirt. “Want one of mine?” Not particularly, since Gray’s shirts were super thick and (to normal people) it was ninety degrees outside, but it was somewhat better. “I have to meet her in the restroom.”

“So she can get the other side of your face?” Gray gave a dubious squinty-eyed look.

“Well, if I don’t go, she’ll do it for sure. If I do…w-well…it’s unlikely.”

Lucy was leaning against the wall with arms crossed when he entered the restroom. She wore a baggy tunic shirt over denim shorts and combat boots, one of which immediately planting itself in his stomach. Natsu’s back hit the door behind him, then his skull when Lucy grabbed him by the neck.

“You should know,” she said, her breath coming heavy, “I don’t like being made an ass of.”

Instinct was a funny thing: there was no cowardice involved in it, just knee-jerk reactions honed by years of environmental factors. Natsu’s hands went out and tangled in her loose hair, and he used his elbows to push against the insides of hers, breaking her grip and pulling her head forward and into his at the same time. He headbutted her hard and she stumbled backwards when he released his grip in shock. The blood drained from his face at the sight of her startled expression. This was nothing he could blame on Fireball.

“L-Lucy, so-sorry, I’m sorry, I just—”

The lights abruptly cut out, bathing the windowless room in darkness. Natsu heard Lucy’s footsteps retreat from him before she let out a yelp on the other side of the room.

“L-Lucy?”

“Stay back th-there!” He started. Did she just…stutter?

“Lucy, I’m r-really sorry about—”

“I said s-stay back there, Dragion!” So it wasn’t his imagination. Certainly, his actions didn’t have her so terrified—if so, she wouldn’t have retaliated for what Fireball did to her. But the only other factor in that situation was…the power went out. So…?”

“U-Um…sorry, I’m overstepping boundaries, but, err, are you…scared of the—”

“Not another word!” she interrupted in a shrieking voice. Immediately after, the lights returned. He blinked until his eyes adjusted and saw Lucy pressed against the far wall and crouched under a sink, her hands clasped over her head. She was trembling, he could see that even from a distance, and her eyes were red. “Just…shut up,” she said in a shaky voice. He pressed his lips together and moved forward.

“I…I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t make fun of you like this…if that’s what you mean…”

“Yes, you would, because you’re a shitty person.” She rolled her eyes and added, “Well, everyone is. Just know, if you so much as breathe word of this to anybody—”

“I won’t.” She gave him a hard look and he returned it with a placatory one. He had incentive to do so—disregarding the Fireball thing, he was still at fault for the brushfires around the school—but there was just something so inherently dirty about exploiting her weakness. That was more up Igneel’s alley to do, and Natsu had long since sworn to do the opposite of his late father in everything. “U-Um…it’s gotta be wet under there, so don’t you wanna, uh…” He offered a hand and she slapped it away hard.

“Move.” He gave her a wide berth to crawl from under the sink and get to her feet. She didn’t spare him another glance when she stomped through the door and slammed it shut behind her.

Well, Natsu thought, hand still out in front of him, now she really hates my guts.

——————

Ironically, Lucy was the one to ignore Natsu the following few days. He didn’t like leaving things as they were, but he also didn’t like setting his ass up for a good kicking. As it were, faith was determined to keep bringing them together in the unruliest circumstances.

“One part of the project requires you to pair up,” Professor Gryder said once the last of the information sheets were passed around. “And you’ve already been paired by a random algorithm. I’ve already posted the sheet on the bulletin board outside.”

“Well that really sucks the fun from a group project, don’t you think?” Levy Ström said in the most derisive voice possible. Natsu heard Lucy click her teeth.

“Each of you will spend a day with the other and analyze their interactions and habits. By the end of the week, you should have a reflection prepared: does this person act based on societal influences, or by their own free will? With that, class is dismissed.”

Natsu watched Lucy from the corner of his eye as she grabbed her binder and dodged past him on her way to the door. He never really thought about it, but he began to wonder what she was doing in a Sociology class as he packed his notebooks away.

“Fuck no!”

It said something that Natsu didn’t even flinch at the sound, quietly slipping his backpack on and making to creep past the crowd around the bulletin board outside. Once he heard Lucy scream again and burst into the classroom, he dared sneak a peek at the groups.

—

NATSU DRAGION & LUCY ASHLEY

—

Okay, hmm, yeah, that made sense. Hearing Lucy’s muffled vitriol from the closed classroom, Natsu decided to air his grievances later. If Professor Mine even possessed a head after today.

“Natsu, will you be alright with such an uncouth young…lady?” Cana Domènech was entirely the opposite of Lucy: conservative, refined, and thought “oh my gosh” to be her swearing quota for the day. She looked at him with concern when he let out a little nervous laugh.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll, uh, I’ll survive.”

“Well, I do wish you the best of luck.” Cana gave him one more sympathetic look before leaving. Natsu heard the door open behind him and looked to see Lucy in noticeably lower spirits than before. She met his eyes and clicked her teeth, tossing her head to the side.

“I’m not big on the idea—” Obviously, “—but I have to pass. So, let’s go.”

“L-let’s g-go?”

“Did you not read the stupid paper?” She fluttered said paper in front of his face. “Analyze each other’s societal interactions. I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather get this done sooner than later. I don’t want to spend a second more with you than I have to.”

“B-B-But, me, I don’t think th-that’s a, that that’s a g-good—” His words died off at her look. He let out a shaky breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ll have to deal with…you know…Fireball.”

“Sooner than later.” She raised an expectant eyebrow and he sighed again, gripping the straps of his bag.

“Al…Alright.” She followed him to the parking lot and stood aside a bit awkwardly as he anxiously slid inside.

“Well, Sugar Tits, you coming in or what?” Fireball asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Lucy rolled her eyes to the sky and practically threw herself into the seat. “Glad to see you’re eager,” he said as he put the car in drive. Lucy barely flinched this time when he laid on the gas and cut onto the street at speed. “So, what’s a respectable young lady like yourself doing in a Sociology class?”

“It’s a stupid elective that I’m regretting more and more by the second.” She folded her arms and fell back into the seat with a frustrated sigh. Natsu looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Any particular reason we’re not doing your part first?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Sugar Tits, that reasoning’s not gonna fly with me.”

“Stop with the Sugar Tits shit already, limp dick.”

“My mouth, my tongue, my car, my rules. Don’t blame me if those jugs are the most appealing parts of you. I can look at them and still feel some semblance of hope for womankind.” Said jugs were encased in a thin black tube top that did nothing to hide their volume or save them from Fireball’s roving eyes.

“Seriously, do you take improv classes? I don’t get how you can be such a pushover normally and then cart around a record-sized pair when you get behind a wheel.”

“I’m an enigma, Sugar Tits. Get used to it.”

There was a slight itch of trepidation as Fireball headed onto the row of dark side streets he called home. But at the end of the block was a building that shone a little brighter than the boarded-up adult stores and bail bond places surrounding it. A place built upon legends of the past and which would continue creating legends well into the future.

“Aren’t you a little young to be going to a bar?” Lucy said derisively as he pulled into the parking lot behind the place.

“Not a bar. Home.” He put the car in park and turned it off. She recoiled a bit at his somber tone.

“This run-down old place?”

“That’s what you call it.” He let out a sigh and smiled a bit. “Well, Lucy, time to head into the belly of the beast.”

Lucy’s burning gaze followed him out of the car as he shrugged his things higher on his shoulders. This was the only place he felt as in-control as when he was in his car—not that he thought it’d last with Lucy breathing down his neck. Lucy fell in step behind him as he walked around to the front entrance. “B-Be ready,” he said under his breath as he pushed the door open.

“What?” Natsu sensed something flying and ducked in time for a beer bottle to miss his head and fly over Lucy’s. She spun around to watch it hit the street with comically wide eyes. “What in the flying fu—”

“Move it or lose it, Dragion!” Jet shouted. Natsu shrunk backwards.

“S-Sorry, I was just—”

“Still apologizing? I don’t know who’s more of an eyesore, you or Elfman!”

“Jet, stop bothering my brother,” Lisanna Stonestrider said, resting a hand on the crying Elfman’s shoulder and shooting Jet a glare. It didn’t affect him too much, and she turned to give Natsu a warm smile. “Welcome back.”

“H-Hi, Lisanna.”

“Ooh, Natsu, you’ve brought a girl.” Mirajane said it very casually but it had heads turning anyway. Natsu turned a deep red and did his best turtle impression when someone let out a loud laugh-whistle.

“I’m Lucy,” she said, startling him a bit with the sound of her voice. She had her hands on her hips and was standing with her feet apart and chin raised just high enough to squint down at all of them. “And know that next time a bottle comes flying at my head, it’s going up somebody’s ass.”

“It’s going to be your ass this time, Max,” Warren said. Someone whistled again, then the previous conversations bubbled back into the silence. Natsu went to sit at the bar and Lucy followed him, perching herself with crossed legs on the stool.

“I’m Mira,” the barmaid introduced, smiling at Lucy. Lucy, as per her dignified nature, snorted.

“Do you shit rainbows or something?”

“P-Please don’t,” Natsu muttered, folding his hands atop the clean wood countertop.

“I’m used to worse coming from these people’s mouths.” Mira, that’s not a thing to happily admit to. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”

Lucy slid her hands across the bar and her eyes narrowed as she peered around the clientele. “Is there an undercover cop here…?”

“No, no,” she said with a laugh. “Whatever happens in Fairy Tail stays in Fairy Tail.”

She still seemed incredibly dubious, so Natsu slowly raised a finger. “Can I get a fireball cinnamon whiskey?” Mira hummed softly as she took a glass from under the bar and filled it halfway before sliding it over. Lucy still looked as if she expected cameras to pop out at any moment, but she slowly slid back in the seat. Natsu didn’t get to the glass before Lucy snatched it and downed it all in one go. “Can I get another?” she said, ignoring Natsu’s indignant yelp.

“For a friend of Natsu’s, of course. He doesn’t have many, outside of us,” she said as she refilled the glass. Natsu flushed under Lucy’s subsequent scrutiny.

“For how much of a turtle he is, doesn’t surprise me.”

“Well what about you? You’re hiding behind a lot of vulgarity.” Natsu jumped when Lucy slammed the glass down mid-drink, splashing the whiskey all over the countertop.

“Don’t act like you know me!” she said in a voice that bordered a growl. Mirajane held Lucy’s gaze for a long moment, and Lucy was the one to back down in the end.

“It’s none of my business anyway,” she said breezily, retrieving another glass and pouring Natsu’s share, along with refilling Lucy’s and swabbing the mess she made.

“Damn right it ain’t, Princess.” Lucy knocked back the glass with marked aggression before slamming it down yet again. Wisely, Natsu retained a Sugar Tits-related comment as he slowly sipped his drink.

“Sup, idiots?” The door banged open and Levy sauntered in, flanked by Gray and Cana behind her. Sitting down with Jet and Droy created a new course of ruckus in the place and Natsu almost missed Wendy and Romeo sneaking in. She caught his wave and responded with a half-smile and a hair flip; Romeo turned away and hunched a bit more, but Natsu caught a bit of a smile before he did. He’s getting better.

“You bring little kids in here too?” Lucy nodded at Romeo as Wendy led him to a booth seat. He squared his shoulders and gripped his glass with both hands.

“W-W-Well, it’s, err—he’s, I-I’m—all of u-us, actually…we, uh, we…” His stammering peaked with his anxiety and Lucy let out a loud groan of frustration. Mira rested a hand atop his.

“The upper level has a few bedrooms; he stays in one alongside Natsu.”

“You guys…live here?” Lucy’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked between them. Mira’s smile hadn’t dimmed, but her eyes darkened with a bit of grief.

“It may seem like a dingy bar to most people, but to us, it’s our only home.” Lucy’s lips parted and she craned her head back to take another long look at the people of Fairy Tail. Young, old; grizzled, bright-eyed; weak, strong; happy and joking, depressed and silent… Her eyes returned to Natsu, but there was no outright malice this time.

“Your only home?” she asked in a voice so soft it was nothing but earnest. He tipped his head in a nod. She put her hand to her mouth and stared, seemingly at a loss for words. Natsu gave a little sheepish smile and shrugged a shoulder. She blinked a few times to clear a suspicious sheen from her eyes, then pushed away from the bar. “We’ll do this another day,” she said quietly, and took a deep breath before rushing past the tables to the door.

“Natsu?” Mira asked quietly, bringing his eyes back to hers. She regarded him with a concerned look and he laughed a bit, though not with humor.

“W…We have a funny relationship,” he said, finishing the last of his whiskey. “Unintentionally exchanging secrets. This time, though…I think this was too much this time. I don’t know, Mira.” He sunk forward until he could rest his head in his arms, and Mira’s hand gently combed through his hair. Well, she got her payback for last time, plus change…

——————

The next day was a Saturday, which meant no class and no Lucy. He just almost pushed yesterday’s happenings from his mind as he came to Aicha’s Autos for his usual weekend shift. He was supposed to open, but when he arrived the garage door was already rolled up and a sports car was waiting with an open hood. He peeked around the corner to see Metallicana reclining in a folding chair, the top of his coveralls loosened around his faded Guns ‘N Roses t-shirt. He was drinking a bottle of Guinness and grinned when he saw Natsu, waving him over.

“I thought I opened?”

“Yeah, well, I had a little extra time. Wanna drink?” He nodded at the small cooler next to him. He had about as many qualms as Fairy Tail with underage drinking—not that Natsu minded. It was the “drinking on the job” part that made him uneasy.

“I-Isn’t this a job here?” He gestured to the sports car. Metallicana shrugged.

“’s all done save for the test drive, and anyway client’s not comin’ ‘til tomorrow.” Grinning, he pulled the driver’s key from his chest pocket and let it dangle from his fingertip. “Just up and down the block so’s I can make sure the frame’s right an’ straight.”

“Just up and down the block…” His fingers twitched and he realized he was leaning forward towards the key. Metallicana laughed not unkindly.

“Haven’t been racin’ in a while? Don’t usually see ya so antsy.”

“The police got some sort of tip and have been swarming around the usual spots, so the people in charge have to find a new…venue…” He was distracted as his phone received a notification. To his utter surprise, it was a text from Lucy.

Finished the report. Come check it out.

Below that was an address not too far from the auto shop. Natsu knew the area: a lot of open road and torn-down homes, leaving plenty of unpurchased lot space. It also was a wonderful place for festering crime, since it lay far from any police station. He might’ve been looking too deeply into matters, but the locale sounded a little too coincidental for his liking.

“Natsu?”

“E-Err, yeah, test drive.” He took the keys and pocketed his phone. “Up and down the street. Got it.” He excused himself and locked the hood before sliding into the driver’s seat. He turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine turn, heard the gears in his mind whir to life as he reversed from the garage.

She ran away, he mused, stopping in the street and heading straight down. Beats me as to why, but she ran. I don’t know what she wrote, but it somehow leaves a pit in my stomach anyway.

He rounded the corner despite his promise to move up and down the street and cruised along the quiet suburb. Whatever she has to say, I can take it in stride. I don’t regret joining with the Fairy Tail gang—they’re a hell of a lot more my family than that old prick. His hands tightened around the wheel. And as pleasant company as Sugar Tits is, she’ll be in for a heck of a time trying to pull me from my family.

He lost track of time circling the neighborhood and caught himself as he drove past a gas station. Glancing at the meter, he realized he used up a few gallons in his reverie. He stopped to fill the tank and bought himself a root beer at the convenience store. Well, regardless, he thought as he popped the cap, taking a long gulp. I won’t know until I go there…and I can only hope it’s good news. W-Well, as good as it can get considering Lucy.

By the time he returned to the garage, Metallicana was working on an SUV. Natsu parked the car on the dirt lot outside and honked once to catch his attention. As he approached, he spotted a suited man about his age sitting against the wall. He had dark curly hair and red eyes that sized Natsu up as he came over.

“Pink hair. Mr. Dragion?”

“Um…y-yes?” Metallicana slid out from under the car with a sigh, dropping a wrench and pulling his long auburn hair from his grease-stained face.

“That’s Gajeel, my son,” he said without delay. “And this is his shitshow he calls a car.” The SUV was old for sure, but Natsu couldn’t see the big deal with it.

“Nice to m-meet you, Mr. Aicha.” He offered a hand and Gajeel again appeared to size him up before shaking it. His hand was calloused and his grip was firm.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Don’t say nothin’ too incriminatin’ ‘round him…it’ll be all over the headlines come daylight.”

“I don’t, um, I don’t understand.”

“I’m a reporter for Magnolia Times,” Gajeel said. Natsu nodded slowly.

“That makes sense…”

“My father has also told me much about you, Mr. Dragion. That you’re his most reliable assistant, and that you’re the most pleasant young man he’s met.” Natsu let out a nervous laugh and ducked his head to hide his blush.

“Mi…Mister Metallicana gives me too much c-credit.”

“Nah, yer just too deprecative,” Metallicana said airily, leaning his back against the car. “Anyway, Natsu, met any girls lately?”

It was something he asked fairly often because Natsu was “that age” according to him—whatever that meant—and now the question made him flush a deeper scarlet and trip over his tongue. “I, err, I don’t, I h-haven’t—”

“Ooh!” He grinned and his wine-colored eyes glittered. “She got big tits?”

Natsu choked on his spit while Gajeel face-palmed. “That’s not…socially acceptable to say.”

“Well, I said it. Does she?”

“She—she—yes,” he admitted in a mutter.

“Congrats!” Gajeel sighed.

“S-S-She’s not, she’s not m-my girlf-friend or anything…!”

“She single?”

“Father, act your age,” Gajeel said once Natsu covered his red face with shaky hands. Metallicana let out a hearty laugh.

“Alright, alright… Let’s finish up his car so’s real customers can have their turn.”

Despite his words, it was a pretty quiet day once Gajeel left with his repaired SUV (and some choice words on Metallicana’s part; seriously, the old man had a mouth to make a sailor blush, yet there was nothing but endearment behind the coarse profanities). By two o’clock, Natsu’s shift was over, and it was time to face Lucy yet again.

“I’m leaving, Mr. Metallicana…”

“Right, see ya Mo—two beers?” Metallicana raised a pierced eyebrow as Natsu shut the cooler, cradling the bottles in his other hand.

“I need the support… See you Monday.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

The tension coiled and formed a pit in his stomach as he headed towards the indicated address. He had already knocked back the first beer at the halfway point, and he was nursing the second one when he realized he was close. It wasn’t enough to impair his driving, not by a longshot, but it fooled him into thinking this was maybe a good idea.

Lucy’s house was entirely average with two stories, a garage, and a tree out front. It looked too innocent for someone determined to give him hell. He parked in the empty driveway and went up to ring the bell. He stood awkwardly on the porch for several minutes, shifting from one foot to another and feeling like some kind of trespasser, before the door swung open. She stood there and blinked at him dazedly, not saying a word, and the silence melted Natsu’s anxiety a bit.

“Good…afternoon,” he said. Lucy inclined her head to one side.

“Yeah,” she replied softly. She wore an extra-large grey hoodie and tights underneath, a surprisingly simple and unassuming outfit choice, but if she was at home, what did he expect? “Come on.” She turned inside and left the door open for him. He self-consciously removed his sneakers before entering, making sure to drop them beside the door after shutting it behind him.

“You, err, y-you finished it early. The report,” he said lamely as he followed her past the unused-looking living room to the stairs.

“I thought it’d be harder than it was. Turns out I was wrong.” She shrugged and Natsu balked internally at how sedated she appeared. The stairs led up to a carpeted hallway and she took him to the door at the very end. Opening it, Natsu was bombarded repeatedly with the thought of Lucy’s room Lucy’s room Lucy’s room. Band posters, gun show ads, and social propaganda posters covered every square inch of the wall to where he didn’t know its color, and while the rectangular room could barely fit a work desk and a twin bed, a record player and small bookshelf made the place fit to burst.

“Cramped,” he said without really thinking, and immediately clamped his mouth shut after.

“But lived in, unlike the rest of this dump.” She took the comment in stride as she slid past everything with practiced ease to sit cross-legged on her bedspread. Natsu awkwardly stood in the doorway until she gave him an expectant look. “You gonna start sprouting leaves there or what?”

“N-N-No, I, uh...nothing.” He bowed his head and sat at her desk, which was crammed with untouched journals, bent and dog-eared poetry books, and mismatched puzzle pieces. Lucy picked up her notebook from the bed and flipped to a random page.

“Listen up,” she said, then started to read: “Natsu is a weak-ass who couldn’t take candy from a baby. Hell, he’d probably be jacked by the baby. Point is, he’s a noodle.” Already he felt like going home. “He’s spinelessly compliant for the most part, and when he’s not he’s an insufferable prick. But not as insufferable as his family. He’s gutless, but he wouldn’t speak out against another person, or hurt them anyhow. All of Natsu Dragion is a good person, and that’s free will.” She dropped the notebook in her laugh and looked at him with a huff. “Well?”

Natsu gave her a gentle smile. “Lucy, I think you’ve missed the point of Fairy Tail.”

“What?” She looked at him crossly, which he took in stride.

“They’re not burdens I have to bear, they’re my family. We’re all family.”

“Pretty rude-ass family you got there.” He winced; he couldn’t argue for the most part.

“They’re not…well…they’re not the most optimistic people, not anymore, but we have this…this…” He tried and failed to find the word and gave up. “You don’t really understand us past the surface.”

“Dragion, I know shitty adults when I see ‘em.” He could only smile again, which she didn’t take as pleasantly. “You’re makin’ fun of the wrong person,” she said, getting to her feet and cracking her knuckles. Natsu instantly went on the defensive.

“N-N—I didn’t m-mean it like that, no!” The door opened downstairs and Lucy straightened as if by an electrical shock. Her expression changed and she marched purposely from the room and down the hall. She didn’t tell Natsu to follow, but he felt at a loss and trailed behind like a stray puppy anyway.

She returned to the living room where Natsu was surprised to see an older woman strewn on the sofa like she simply didn’t have the energy to go further. Her blond hair was long and silky and streaked with grey, and when Natsu went around, he saw her in an unkempt server’s uniform. Lucy walked past, combing her fingers through the woman’s hair as she went to the kitchen. The woman didn’t respond.

“U-Um, L-Lucy, it’s not my place to ask, I know, b-but is she…?”

“It isn’t your place,” she said tonelessly, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it from the tap. She set the glass down on the coffee table still with no response. Natsu swallowed.

“M…Maybe she should go to a h-hospi—”

“This ain’t anything new, okay? Come morning, she’ll be perfectly okay and ready to do it all again.” She pushed her fringe up and Natsu frowned at how exhausted she sounded. She glanced at him over her shoulder, then looked at the wall. He followed her gaze to a photo featuring the woman with less grey hairs and a blond, mustached man holding a laughing little girl. “Sorry if I insulted your family or whatever, but as you can see, I don’t have a splendid example of a stable one. Not anymore.”

“Lucy…” She opened her mouth, then abruptly shut it and walked out the front door. She sat hard on the porch and pulled a cigarette from her pocket. Natsu glanced at her mother again, who still had her face buried in the cushions with no sign of life, and slowly walked out to join her. He grimaced a little at the smell of smoke as she took a long drag but didn’t complain. “Is she…ah…drugs?” he asked, fully expecting a tirade in response.

“More like drunk off her ass,” she said without looking at him. “She’s been doing it for six years now. Can’t hold down a job, can’t hold down a conversation… If not for our relatives, we would’ve lost Papa’s house a long time ago.”

“Why don’t you get help?”

“She’s the one who has to get help. It ain’t for my lack of trying, me and the rest of our family.” She threw the half-finished cigarette to the concrete walkway and ground it under her sneaker.

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t make Papa sick, you didn’t turn Mama into a chicken, what do you have to be sorry for?”

He looked her right in the eyes. “I’m sorry we both have broken families.”

“I thought you love the people over at that bar.”

“I’m not talking about them.” She gave him a curious look and he fidgeted with his fingers. “My father…wasn’t the n…nicest person. Not to my mom or me. He wanted her to ‘listen like a wife should.’ He wanted me to ‘grow up an’ be a fuckin’ man.’” He laughed even though nothing about it was funny. “He was… Igneel was a mean, manipulative, and secretly cowardly sunovabitch. And now he’s dead.” He choked on the word dead and almost suffocated at the memories it brought. He doubled over and saw Lucy reaching for him from the corner of his eye, and he bolted to his feet to throw up in the grass. “S…Sorry,” he muttered when he was done, dragging his hand across his mouth. Lucy was on her feet and staring at him with wide eyes.

“He was killed?” she asked. The word hit Natsu like a blow and he had to fight to not vomit again.

“Y…Yes, he was killed.” He sat on the grass and pulled his knees to his chest, gripping them and failing to stop his trembling. Warm, he felt warm then and he felt warm now—feverishly, dizzily warm. And his mother’s quick words in his ear; he didn’t understand then, but in the aftermath, they engraved themselves in his soul. The warmth persisted; it was years before he could sleep without twisted nightmares of that day forming.

Lucy came up behind him and her hand rested in his hair, gently tangling in the strands. Her hand was warm too, but it didn’t make him feel faint and anxious; it was grounding, pleasant, and it made him feel a bit stronger.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the reason he’s dead, are you? What do you have to be sorry for?” He laughed bitterly until Lucy’s hand moved to his shoulder and she crouched behind him. Her words dragged him to a pensive stop.

“I’m sorry we’re both broken people.”

——————

“This is a cruel world. You have to be crueler to survive.”

“Spend the rest of the week sleeping outside. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

“I’m the father! It’s my job to make sure things are in order, that my son becomes a man and my wife keeps in line. That’s the father’s job.”

“If you don’t like me, get out. Life’s gonna fuck you in your little pussy and you’ll come running back anyway.”

“If you don’t like fighting, you’re gonna get mauled. That’s the rule of thumb.”

“If you don’t like me, do something about it.”

…Do something about it? To his father? To the “head of the house?” It was a pipe dream at best, a dangerous fantasy at worst. But…but…

“Mom!”

Like a dream, like a fantasy, he made it reality.

——————

Natsu had a headache when he woke up the next morning, and the sunlight streaming through only made it worse. He groaned and turned into his pillow.

“Natsu…” He peeked one eye at Romeo as he struggled to climb on the bed. Natsu sat up and helped him the rest of the way. “Who’s the girl?” he asked with a little tilt to his head. Natsu rubbed his neck and yawned.

“Lucy— Huh? Why are you asking now?”

“Well, she’s here now.” Natsu stared dumbly for a few seconds until Romeo repeated himself.

“She’s what?” He pushed Romeo aside and jumped to his feet. “D-Did she say why?” He was about to leave before remembering he was in his boxers. He ran to the dresser and rapidly sorted between their clothes (ugh, he had to organize that thing one day).

“Nope.” Romeo was sitting cross-legged on Natsu’s bedspread rocking back and forth. “But she told me I’m perspicacious. I think it means cute.”

Natsu was too engrossed in getting dressed to argue no, it did not mean cute, it meant he was probably being a know-it-all little shit to her. He picked a blue collared shirt and a pair of jeans. “Does this look fine?” he asked before remembering he was talking to a seven-year-old.

“Why does it matter?”

“N…No, well, I guess it doesn’t.” He smoothed his shirt automatically and Romeo inclined his head.

“You’re acting weird, Big Brother.”

“Me? Weird? No, nonono. I’m neurotic all the time. Typical Natsu, right? Aha!” He did an uncomfortable smile that made Romeo grimace.

“Maybe you should lie down again.”

“I’m fine.” Despite his words, Romeo followed at his ankles as he went to clean up in the restroom and then marched purposefully downstairs. It was still early on the weekend so many of the adults were asleep; only Mirajane, Gray, Cana, Wendy, and Juvia remained in the bar, lounging around or helping clean up from the busy night. Lucy was on a barstool turning side to side with her head lolling onto one shoulder. She wore a school sweatshirt cut to just below her breasts and high-waisted jeans. Her hair was loose and wet from a shower.

“Natsu, your friend is back,” Mira said as way of greeting, giving him a not-so-subtle wink and grin. Natsu flushed and tried to hide in his shirt.

“Yo.” Lucy sat up at the sight of him and smiled. It wasn’t huge and blinding by no means, but it was genuine, and it got Natsu smiling in return.

“H…Hi.”

“Slow burn-ass romance,” Juvia said quite loudly, deepening Natsu’s flush and getting a glare from Lucy. Then her face changed to a sinister smirk.

“Yeah, you know what? I’m totally in love with Pinky. So, like, you should let me in on you guys’ secrets, considering I’m gonna be stickin’ around.”

“Yeah? Kiss him.” Juvia again, and her smirk was ten times more sinister. Natsu felt Romeo tugging on the back of his shirt but ignored it in favor of some wild-eyed boggling. Seriously? She isn’t going for that. She’s not. She isn’t going for that for real is she? She wouldn’t just—oh—oh yeah nope she’s totally kissing me.

Lucy had grabbed his face with both hands and pressed her body flush against his to snatch his lips. He could taste her green apple lip gloss and the mint toothpaste on her breath. And…and…shit. He thought only four wheels and an engine could do it, but the kiss, whatever the circumstances and reasoning behind it, stoked the fire in his belly to a roar. He grabbed her forearms, backed her against the bar until she was almost bowing into it, and deepened the kiss. In response to his heat, she melted in his grip, and Fireball relished the little mewls she made as he explored her mouth with his tongue. He wondered what sounds she would make when he explored her body, when he explored her—

“Eww,” Romeo said before Wendy shushed him. Natsu pulled away in a rush, his face sporting a shade of red not even on the spectrum. Lucy was still leaning against the bar and supporting her body with her hands, staring off into space.

“It’s not nice to interrupt people when they’re snogging,” Wendy told him. Romeo didn’t respond and directed his attention to Lucy.

“Big Sister, wasn’t that gross?”

Lucy snapped out of her fugue and turned to face him. “Uh, well— Big Sister?” She began weirdly fidgety, but suddenly looked at Romeo with wide eyes. Romeo nodded from where he sat on Wendy’s lap and Lucy broke into a wide grin. “Big Sister knows how to handle herself in the face of creeps,” she said, putting extra emphasis on her new title.

“I…I’m a creep?”

“Well, you’re trying to get with Big Sister,” Romeo said quite matter-of-factly. Wendy patted his head.

“Lucy’s not our sister.”

“Not yet,” he said, “but she likes Big Brother.”

He was only a kid and his words left Natsu mortified all the same. He ducked his head and asked Mira for a couple glasses of fire whiskey. “You’ve a very adorable wingman.” Lucy grinned at Natsu and he slid a glass her way, sitting next to her.

“I don’t mean it offensively, but why did you come?”

“No offense taken. Well, I want to know more about you. And, well, you kinda fled the other day.”

“Yeah. Um. Sorry that I…fled. It was…” scary, terrifying, horrifying, traumatizing, “…I’m sorry.”

“It’s another thing we have in common: we’re excellent runners.” She took a sip of whiskey and set the glass down quietly. “Not really a good thing.”

“No, it’s not.” He took a sip as well and sighed. Mira, who had disappeared for a moment, returned with a plate starring a mushroom omelet for Lucy.

“I didn’t pay for this,” she said. Mira winked.

“Breakfast is on the house today.” Natsu gave her a squinty look knowing it was bullshit and she giggled before going back to the kitchen. Lucy pushed it around a bit before cutting in and taking a bite.

“Wow. This is, like, orgasmic.” She proceeded to stuff her face with it and make very unladylike noises at the flavor, making Natsu warm for an entirely different, not so unpleasant reason.

“U-Um, Lucy, m-maybe you should…not…should not make those…s-sounds.”

“Shove it.” And she was back to the Lucy he knew. Honestly, he was a little relieved for it.

“A-Anyway…there’s not much more to learn about me. You can talk to my friends here?”

“Seriously.”

“Ooh, yes, I am very curious to meet the girl Natsu’s making out with.” Natsu started when he realized how close Wendy had gotten, leaning over the counter with her cleavage in his face. “Nice to meet you, Big Sister. My name’s Wendy.”

“Hmm? Yeah, pleasure’s mine or something.” Lucy looked at Wendy’s tits, then her own, then noticed Wendy was holding Romeo’s hand. “Little brother,” she said, then smiled. Romeo turned his face into Wendy’s legs and she ruffled his hair.

“He’s a little uncomfortable around people.” She jerked her chin at Gray and Cana’s table. “Gray is the human cocoon over there. Nice guy, but he wears too many layers. And Cana is—”

“Oh, yes, I know Cana,” Lucy said with a not-so-pleasant tone of voice. “I’ve seen Gray around. Hard to miss.”

“Well then, you’re already partway there.” She tugged a lock of Lucy’s hair and stopped to gawk. “Your hair is really soft. How do you get it like this?”

“Don’t really know.” She let Wendy play with the strands and Natsu wished he could as well without it being too weird.

“Wakaba and Macao are a couple of the oldest regulars. We don’t know what they do when they’re not here though. Mira’s the barmaid and chef; she and Levy room together. Jet and Droy, Juvia, Cana, Laki, Warren, Nab, and Max are the early-birds around here; they start early and you usually don’t see them until the evening.”

“So who’s the owner?” It was an innocent question that instantly dimmed the bar’s mood. Wendy bit her lip, Natsu averted his eyes, Gray stared at his hands, Juvia clenched her fists, and Cana’s eyes turned glassy. Romeo was the one who answered.

“He was um, he was extra-diction.”

“Extradited to Russia some years ago. He’s been imprisoned ever since.” Lucy turned to where Mira was standing, her head lowered and eyes distant. “We never found out what he did.”

“If he did anything,” Juvia said.

“Gramps had the kindest heart of anyone around. We can’t imagine him committing a crime so serious they’d drag him transnationally,” Gray said softly.

“Because he wouldn’t,” Wendy said with finality. “And we’ve never stopped fighting it.”

Lucy looked between them all before her eyes landed on Natsu. He nodded. “And we won’t ever stop."

“Family…” She shook her head and straightened, throwing her hands in the air. “So, what do you guys do for fun around here?”

Wendy smirked. “Ever play King’s Cup?”

Lucy did not in fact play King’s Cup, and Natsu, while not speaking up, loathed the aftermath. Since Romeo and Cana couldn’t participate, they sat on the side as Mira set one table with six glasses, filling five of them with Guinness, and set a deck of cards next to the empty one. They took their seats and Natsu was the first to pick up.

“Queen,” he muttered, turning it towards everyone. Juvia, Lucy, and Wendy grabbed their glasses and drank.

“Okay, okay.” Wendy set the emptied glass down and took a card, flipping it out. “Seven.” Gray was the last to put his arm up since he had so many layers to work with, so he drank.

“My turn.” Juvia had a wicked smile as she took her card and flashed the 5. “When Lucy drinks, Natsu drinks twice as much.”

“Seriously?” Natsu cried. It went unnoticed as Gray drew.

“Nine.” He thought for a moment, shivered, then said, “Cold.”

“Sold,” Lucy said.

“Uh…gold,” Natsu said.

“Mold.”

“Told.”

“Bold,” Gray said. Lucy hesitated for a second and Wendy grinned.

“Let’s go, Big Sister.”

“Hey, sometimes you hafta know when you take a loss gracefully, as women do.” Natsu gave her a look as she gulped her beer and slammed the glass down. Graceful, my a—

“Natsu, aren’t you forgetting something?” Juvia said. Natsu drank down his glass and the following glass when Mira refilled it. On Wendy’s turn, she drew 3, so she drank three. Juvia drew a King and the guys drank. Gray drew an Ace and everyone raised their glasses. Lucy choked before Natsu was done, and she had to take another glass as punishment; duly, Natsu drank two glasses after. He was racking up five total, and on an empty stomach, he was past his limit.

“Alright, Bimbo-gami, take this.” Lucy held up her card, a 2, and Juvia gulped her glass. “Geddit? Bimbo with those tits, and a binbōgami is bad luck.” For how drunk she sounded, her intelligence was still impeccable.

“M’kay, my turn.” Natsu grabbed a bunch of cards by accident and let them flutter back to the table until he was left with one. “That’s a 4. Gray, yer gonna take two, an’ I take two.” They did their drinks and Gray, at the end of it, started peeling away some jackets.

“It’s hot as hell in here,” he said with a grimace, tossing his topmost layers to the ground and leaving himself in a black turtleneck. The game continued until there were two dozen empty beer bottles clanging around, Gray was down to his skivvies, Wendy was passed out cold and the warmth was reaching new heights in the pit of Natsu’s gut.

“Okay, okay, so’s I gotta 10,” Juvia slurred, holding up the card. “I say you guys gotta name your top pick fer hot an’ heavy sex. F’me, a kiddie pool.”

“Chocolate parfait.” Lucy gave a crooked smile and swirled the last dregs of beer around in her glass. Her shirt had ridden up the last time they raised their hands and she wasn’t in a state to notice; the hem sat at the crest of her black lacy bra.

“Natsu, ‘s on you.”

“Sugar Tits,” he said without missing a beat. She looked at him with a confused murmur and he grabbed her wrist, getting to his feet and pulling her up as well. “Let’s go fer a ride.”

“Too drunk,” she said, stumbling along behind him as he went to the backdoor. “Yer too drunk off yer ass, Dragion.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t drive, stoo-pid.”

“Who said ‘nythin’ ‘bout driving?” He slammed the door open and burst into the sunlight where he pulled her along to his car. It took a moment of fumbling with the keys before he got the passenger door open, and he forced the seat forward and pushed her into the back. He shut the door and settled between her raised knees, kneeling between her legs.

“Natsu—” she said, then was cut off when he devoured her lips in a searing kiss.

“M’mouth tastes like ass,” he said once he pulled away, pinning her wrists against the seat. “Let me taste something better.” He kissed the junction of shoulder and neck before sucking the same spot, earning a long and delicious groan from her in response. Her body proved enjoyably receptive as he continued showering her neck and jaw with attention. She trembled like a purring engine, spurring to life when he handled her just so.

“N-Naat…suuu…” Her breath hitched when he gave the back of her ear a long, slow lick, then she cried out as her body bowed outwards. He grinned at the sight and straightened, releasing her wrists to fumble drunkenly with the buttons of her jeans.

“Mm. One part I haven’t tasted yet…”

——————

Often times Fireball wondered Laki’s story. He only saw her in the dead of the night in a fishnet top and denim shorts, and she never spoke to him; her presence began with a swing of her arm and ended as he crossed the finish line. His eyes narrowed against the glare of the streetlamps to catch the swing now.

Three…two…and go.

He hit the gas and sped off in time with his two opponents. There was nothing else, nothing but the moonlight shining from the leaves surrounding the thin roads at the city limit, the sound of the engine, the night air crisp and clean in his throat—

“Mm…smells like sex in here.”

“Wonder why?”

“You’re a coy asshole.”

He gritted his teeth and clenched the steering wheel a bit tighter. He walked himself into deep shit with Lucy, he knew that well. The problem was finding his way out again while loathing every step he took away from her. He couldn’t…he could stand her knowing his petty problems, but the big secret… No, she couldn’t learn of that. forget the consequences involved, he didn’t want her to walk from his life as she surely would.

His reverie made him fall behind a driver and he laid on the gas to regain his head start. Regardless of his activities with a certain blonde, he had to win. Not so much for the money, which he earned a fair bit of from Metallicana, but the peace of mind a simple victory brought. Without that, he’d probably be as self-destructive as his old man.

They finished a lap as they circled past Laki and the cheers of the onlookers chased Natsu along the track. The adrenaline fueled the fire in his belly and he depressed the pedal as far as it could go, gaining a burst of speed on the straightaway. The next road led into a sharp curve and he caught it at a slow drift that carried him too close into the opponent’s BMW. The cars ground against each other as the road straightened and the BMW, with better positioning, shoved Natsu towards the grass on the side. He lost his traction and speed and lost a lot of ground in the race.

Dammit, dammit! Get your head out of your ass!

He got back on the road but finished the lap in last place. The third lap, too, he was a couple cars’ length from the others. His jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. I have to get ahead. Push, push, nothing matters but the race, the wind, the sound of the engine, the taste of the night…Lucy’s lips taste sweeter than the night—

Police sirens weren’t a foreign sound in the neighborhood, but they came so close Natsu immediately hit the brakes, skidding to a stop on the dirt alongside the other two. Cop cars materialized from the night and everyone in the vicinity disappeared save for the drivers. Natsu watched the closest car as the doors opened, revealing a striking figure with short hair the color of fresh blood. Nightwalker.

“Make this easier on yourselves and exit the vehicles now,” she said, making no effort to hide the pistol strapped to her hips. The three of them stood up from their seats and put their hands in the air, none happily. Corporal Nightwalker’s eyes raked over them, sharp as blades. “Reitei Lyon, Sorano, and—” Her eyes narrowed on Natsu. “Natsu Dragion.”

“A-Ah…” He flinched back at the fiery intensity of her gaze, falling back into the driver’s seat. Nightwalker’s officers advanced on the other two while her sights remained on him.

“Don’t try to run. There’s no corner of Edolas you can run to now.” Her boots kicked up dust as she walked towards him, purposefully but at a moderate pace, knowing she had him on lock. He stared with wide eyes and his heart feeling like it would jump out any second. “Your street racing has reached its climax.”

Street racing. Street racing. Despite himself, relief flooded his veins and he put up no fight as she cuffed him. She mentioned his car would be impounded and the cost of bail, but it was small change. His most serious offense had yet to come collect, and he was relieved. After all, what would Lucy think of him knowing he killed his own father?

#ft bb #fairy tail #fairy tail big bang #natsu x lucy #ft fanfiction #ft oneshot #natsu dragion #lucy ashley #edo nalu #romance #angst #hurt/comfort #lime

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