#the crazy part is half these people were claiming to be baristas YEAH FUCKING RIGHT as if someone that worked a service job at least one

[bugtheduck]

Oh my fucking god the coffee influencer girlies on Instagram won't LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE after a comment I made on a post MONTHS AGO

I have never seen a group of more pretentious people harassing someone who LITERALLY WORKS in a coffee shop (ME HELLO YES HI I work in a coffee shop, used to work for SB, don't like their company or union-busting) and if that isn't white coffee girlies with their full narcissism on display then I don't know what is

#i wasnt even?? being pretentious like OTHER BARISTAS IN THE COMMENTS #DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE I SERVE IN A DAY THAT ARE LIKE “oh i used to work for starbucks we do it differently” OR #“oh thats bot the traditional way” IN A DAY??? A FUCKING LOT #AND I SAID THAT IN A RESPONSE TO SOMEONE BEING AN ASS LIKE “i literally deal with pretentious mfs like you all the time just let them make #coffee how they want“ AND IM STILL GETTING HARASSED #BY PEOPLE WHO CANT READ #MAYBE READ WHAT I REPLIED INSTEAD OF BEING RUDE TO A STRANGER #WHERE I CLEARLY STATED THAT YES THERE ARE OTHER FORMS OF MAKING COFFEE THAT ARENT HIGHLY COMMERCIALIZED LIKE STARBUCKS #BUT FOR THE PURPOSES OF SOMEONE ASKING HOW TO ORDER A DRINK IF THEY WENT TO SB I COMMENTED TO HELP THEM OUT #“hey to order this asked for a reverse (iced) macchiato :))💚” #AND THE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE THAT S C R E A M E D “THATS NOT A REAL MACCHIATO” “YOURE THE REASON PEOPLE ORDER DRINKS WRONG” #SIT DOWN YOU PRETENTIOUS FUCKS IM AWARE #BUT TO MAKE MY JOB AND THEIR ORDER FUCKING EASIER THATS WHAT I WORK RECCOMEND THEY ATTEMPT TO ORDER #GET YOUR PRETENTIOUS COFFEE STANDARDS AWAY FROM ME I DEAL WITH ENOHGH OF YOU PEOPLE AT WORK #JUST LET PEOPLE ENJOY WHAT THEY ENJOY #I WOULD SOMEONE ORDER A “REVERSE MACCHIATO” THAN THEM MAKE A FUCK TON OF ADDITIONS AND CHANGES AND BE EVEN MORE PRETENTIOUS #the crazy part is half these people were claiming to be baristas YEAH FUCKING RIGHT as if someone that worked a service job at least one #fucking day in their life would be THAT pretentious to other service workers #get a fucking grip its just a drink #white women i swear to god #remind me to never utter the word coffee on instagram again #im just trying to serve people as quick as possible with as little headache please just let me do my job #and if telling someone to order an unmixed latte as a reverse macchiato makes it easier than i'll do it every day #“im a barista too and that doesnt exist” where bitch in beverly hills #im a queer person in the deep south making minimum wage i do not give a single fuck #mine #just let katie call her separated latte a reverse macchiato so i can take the next order i do not give a fuck about the details #“um actually🤓” then you come make it bitch #no i dont work for starbucks but i dont work for a high end coffee shop either and we certainly dont have a manual espresso machine #so we cant even MAKE a traditional macchiato be so for real

[prettyboybarzal]

tattoos together // tyler seguin

pairing: tyler seguin x reader

summary: it’s july 4th and you’re supposed to be celebrating on the cape with your best friend, tyler, and dozens of party goers. but things take a turn when he’s drafted to the dallas stars. 

(a slow burn, friend to lovers fic w/ the gift of boston tyler seguin and dallas tyler seguin AND matching tattoos) 

word count: 4k+

author’s note: this is just part one of idk how many, but i was inspired and needed to write this story. think of this chapter as a prologue of some sort... ps. this was inspired by “tattoos together” by lauv

warnings: alcohol, getting tattoos (??), cursing

Sometime within Tyler Seguin’s first year living in Boston, you bumped into him at a coffee shop. I mean, literally bumped into him. You were on the way to your first day of classes at Boston University and spilled your entire coffee on him. It was his fault, which he claimed almost immediately as he’d been looking down at his phone when it happened.

You had no clue who he was, but he was so pretty that your anger about the wasted coffee quickly dissipated. You almost let him get away with fucking up your morning routine. But, as if he knew the coffee was important, he nodded over to the shop and offered to buy you another.

You stood in line beside him, twiddling your thumbs around the sleeve of the now empty coffee cup.

“Are you from around here?”

“Yeah, I grew up just outside the city.”

“You live here now, though?”

“Yep.”

The conversation was dry, due in part to your exhaustion and lack of caffeine. He noted this, not bothering to push conversation anymore despite feeling desperate to talk to you.

You ordered, “Medium French Vanilla coffee with half and half, please.”

“She’ll have a large,” Tyler interjected. “She needs it.”

Before you could object, the barista was gone and Tyler was shrugging unapologetically at you.

When Tyler took the coffee from the barista’s hand, he snatched the pen off the counter as well. You watched as he etched his name and number onto the sleeve before handing it over to you. He smiled easily and said, “I’m new around here. I could use a native’s tips on the city.”

You never called him, or texted, until running into him at a bar a month later. He recognized you immediately from the other side of the room and quickly made his way over, shrugging off a girl whose name he couldn’t remember just to get to you. You had your back to him, but the look on your girl friend’s face was enough to make you turn and face him.

“French Vanilla,” he greeted. You laughed. “You never called.”

“I don’t normally call random men I meet, whether it’s at a coffee shop or a bar.”

Tyler scoffed at this before asking, “Have you gotten a drink yet?”

And, just as quickly as it had gone up, your cool girl façade was down.

“No, this place has the shittiest service.”

“Yeah?” Tyler asked, sensing the challenge. He raised a hand at the bartender and was served immediately. He relayed his drink order before glancing over at you and telling the bartender, “And whatever these two want.”

The bartender took your orders and left to make your drinks, leaving you to stare at Tyler in amazement, “How?”

“I might be a bit of a regular,” he murmured. When the drinks were placed down and Tyler grabbed his card to pay, the bartender simply stated, “You’re covered. Keep playing hard.”

“Playing hard?”

“I’m Tyler Seguin,” he said. He extended his hand and you shook it, a look of confusion still displayed on your face. “Of the Boston Bruins.”

“Oh, shit!” That’s all you said in response before dropping your hand. “Cool.”

The response was refreshing. Most girls already knew who he was, but you didn’t and he liked that. He invited you and your friend back to his booth, and you went because the promise of free alcohol was too good to pass up. 

“Most girls would’ve at least texted me if I gave them my number,” Tyler pushed. You were sitting beside him, watching your friend flirt with one of his teammates. His arm rested on the couch behind your head.

You smirked at how annoyed he seemed to be by the radio silence from you. Stirring the straw in your drink, you shrugged and teased, “Had I known you were a rich and famous hockey star, maybe I would’ve called you. You should’ve told me sooner.”

“Does this mean you’ll call me tomorrow?”

“I can smell the desperation on you, Seguin,” you stated. You turned your body to face him. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Who said I wanted that?”

“Your body language and persistence.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Something like that.”

At the end of the night, you wrote your number on a napkin and shoved it in his shirt pocket.

From then on, he invited you out every time he was hitting the bars. Pretty soon, he was asking you to grab food in the middle of the day. It snowballed into movie nights and wine, sleepovers with face masks, and lots of take-out.

Tyler liked you, but he liked the freedom of casual hookups way more. His fear of losing you was much stronger than his want for a relationship. And the same could be said for you. You were crazy about him, but not crazy enough to lose him. So, somewhere along the line, your relationship became strictly platonic.

Besides, it was easy to ignore your feelings when you’d only admitted it out loud once (under the influence of tequila) to your best friend, Lauren.

“You can’t expect us to spend as much time as we do with each other and not develop feelings,” you’d said. “But, right now, I’m having fun with casual stuff. And so is he. There’s no reason for me to pursue a relationship with someone as special as Ty right now. It’s too soon, we’re too young. Maybe one day, but not today.”

Now, as you stood teary eyed in his bathroom mirror, you were left wondering if that day would ever come. What the hell had you been biding your time for?

“It’s going to be fine!” Tyler calls from the other side of the bathroom door. You sniffle, but give no response knowing that your voice will fail you. He lets out a long sigh in the hallway. “Will you stop crying?”

“I’m not crying anymore!”

“You’re such a fucking liar,” he argues. Despite the situation at hand, you can hear the smile in his voice. “I hear you sniffling. Open the door. 

Frantically, you wipe away the smudged mascara beneath your eyes before sucking in a breath and releasing it uneasily moments later. The body behind the door remains, only silently this time. Pushing away from the counter, you turn to the door and grab the nob. When you pull it open, Tyler comes tumbling into the room.

He straightens up and flashes you a lopsided grin before tugging on one of the belt loops on your jeans. You fall into his chest with a thud, melting as his arms wrap around you. For a few moments, the room is silent. He laces his fingers through the ends of your hair and places a kiss on the crown of your head.

You mumble into his chest, “I don’t want you to go to Dallas.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, the sadness fades to anger as your train of thought drifts to the reason you suspect he’s in this situation. He’s been the irresponsible rookie, the life of the party, the womanizer… All titles that definitely made the decision to trade him to Dallas easier.

You push him away with a rough shove of his chest and scold him, “You’re such an idiot, do you know that? Fuck, Tyler.”

A frown replaces his goofy smile as he crosses his arms over his chest and grunts, “This isn’t a conversation I want to have with you of all people.”

You back down from the challenge, acknowledging the bubble of your friendship that so often excluded the hockey world. There’s no reason to shatter it on tonight of all nights, so instead of pressing on, you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He pulls his snapback off his head to run his fingers through his hair before placing it back down. “Now, can we please eat dinner and get ready for this party? It’s too late to cancel now.”

Down stairs, you and Tyler bustle about the kitchen. He put a pizza in the oven right before the phone call about the trade came in and you ran off to cry in the bathroom. When you return, it’s done and Tyler grabs a dish towel to take the tray out of the oven.

You slice the pie into an equal eight pieces before he takes it to the dining table. Tyler eats two slices for every one you manage, making sure you’re getting enough before picking up the next one. It’s comfortably silent, something the two of you are used to. The only conversation you share is between eyebrow raises, giggles, and moans of appreciation for the food on your plates.

When Tyler finishes off his last slice, he wipes the side of his mouth with the back of his hand, then with a napkin, and you find yourself staring. He’s completely oblivious to your wandering eyes, pushing away from the table to take his plate to the sink and leaving the last slice of pizza for you (like he always does). 

It’s a mixture of the excitement of the Fourth of July and the sadness of Tyler’s inevitable departure from Boston that ends up getting you as drunk as you are by 8 p.m. It’s been an hour since everyone started showing up and you stopped counting your drinks. And, quite honestly, you’re feeling good.

Tyler is the man of the hour, as expected, and he’s hardly by your side for the first hour. Each time he’s with, you watch him get whisked away to say hello to someone new, be it a teammate or one of his casual hookups.

Most nights this happens you don’t mind one bit, but tonight is different because moments with him are fleeting.

Once it seems like the flow of party guests has slowed, Tyler finds you again. He offers you a sympathetic smile and all is forgiven. From that moment on, he hardly leaves your side. He tugs on your hand when you try to leave the room or pulls you into his side when he sees your thoughts drifting away from the fun of the party.

Tyler knows where your head is at because he feels the same way about leaving. While he loved Boston and he’d miss it when he moved to Texas, he knew it was really you he’d be missing. You made an unfamiliar place feel like home.

“I’m going to top myself off,” you state, pushing yourself away from the counter. You sway on your feet, causing Tyler to reach forward to steady you. “Need anything?”

He shakes his head and responds, “I’m okay.”

Tyler watches you walk away and stares at you through the sliding glass door as you fill up your cup. You’re inevitably joined by a friend of a friend who starts chatting you up and you’re giggling at him, hand on his arm. Tyler needs to shake himself out of the trance he’s in.

The hardest pill for him to swallow, he’s decided, is the fact that he never took his time in Boston to pursue you.

His eyes drift out to the back deck again and he finds that you’ve settled against the railing, gazing up at the guy in front of you. He’s seen you give that look to guys before and he always finds himself wishing he was on the other end of it. With a grunt, he forces himself to walk away and push the sight out of his mind, opting to flirt with the pretty blonde by the beer pong table instead.

It’s not long before you rejoin the party and, when you find Tyler again, he’s playing beer pong with that same girl. He notices your presence as you settle against the back of the couch in the living room to watch the game. Your swollen lips don’t go unnoticed and neither does the presence of the guy by your side. You smile at Tyler and get one in return, but you’re completely oblivious to how half assed it is.

He brushes you off, turning to whisper something flirty in the ear of the blonde beside him before sinking his ping pong ball in the second to last cup. The guy beside you nudges you with his shoulder and asks, “Do you know him?”

“Tyler?” you ask with an air of familiarity. He nods. You smirk mischievously and answer, “Sort of.”

You turn your attention back to the beer pong game. There’s only one cup left and you fully intend on yanking Tyler away from the table as soon as he sinks the final shot, especially once you feel this guy’s hand wrap around yours.

Tyler hits the cup and embraces his partner before turning to bask in the cheers of his party guests, only to find himself face-to-face with you.

“Save me,” you murmur. He glances down at you, then over to your hand. You give him a pout, the type you know he can’t resist, and suddenly he’s relaxing his shoulders, eyes wide and concerned. “I do not want to kiss this guy again.”

“What are you going to do when I’m not here to bail you out anymore?” Tyler asks. You huff at him, adding an eye roll for emphasis. He looks over at your hand again and then up at the guy holding it. “Hey, dude, I’m going to steal her. Enjoy the party!”

Your new friend backs off, as any smart man would do when confronted by Tyler Seguin. 

Tyler grabs your hand and pulls you down the hall with him until the music from the living room is drowned out. You find yourselves just outside his bedroom door. The lights in the hallway are out to keep people from coming down to his room. He releases your hand and presses his back up against the wall. You step forward and drop your head to his shoulder. 

“Don’t let me do that again,” you whine. Tyler’s shoulders shake with laughter. “What the hell am I supposed to do when you move away?”

“Not make out with weirdos.”

“How was I supposed to know he was weird?”

“You can just tell that about a guy,” Tyler explains. You pull back to look up at him with a questioning glance. “Like, I’m too good looking to be a weirdo.”

“And humble, too,” you tease. He laughs, tossing his head back to direct his laughter at the ceiling. “Did I cock block you?”

He shrugs, a cocky smirk lying on his face, and answers, “Possibly.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. He gives no response, only offering you a soft smile instead of words. Truth be told, he didn’t mind that you pulled him away from the table, not one bit. You stared up at him, admiring his face until hiccup. Tyler giggles as you reveal, “I’m drunk.”

“I can tell.”

“How are you not?”

“I’m getting there,” he answers. He grabs your hip, squeezing it as he pulls you closer to him. “Maybe I’m trying to look at for you.” 

“I don’t need you to look out for me!”

“You sure?” he asks, dropping his hand. He furrows his eyebrows, annoyed by your comment, for whatever reason he doesn’t understand. He slips away from you, starts walking down the hall, and calls back, “Let’s see how that goes for the rest of the night.” 

Tyler disappears into the crowd, leaving you to fend for yourself. And, at first, it’s not that bad. You find a group of girls that you’d met through the Bruins boys and spend a while hanging out with them. But, one-by-one, they’re plucked up by men at the party and you’re left alone again. 

Not long after, the guy from the deck finds you. As he approaches, you search the room frantically to find Tyler is watching. His grin doesn’t fall, it stays wide and taunting. He’s not coming to your rescue this time.

“I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” porch guy says. “Seguin didn’t make a move on you?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

You hope this comment makes him change his mind about hitting on you, but he’s persistent. You can’t even comprehend much of what he’s saying because your eyes keep glancing over his shoulder at Tyler who’s now officially tuned out of your misfortune. He’s leaning against the wall, gripping the waist of some girl doing a full Jersey Turnpike against him.

He glances up once more and smirks.  Smug little bitch.

The next time you find Tyler alone, he’s in the kitchen. He’s facing the counter, his back to you, as he slices up limes and places them on a plate with tequila shots in the middle. You approach quietly until you’re close enough to wrap your arms around his waist.

“She comes crawling back,” Tyler murmurs. You hum, poking your head out to the side of his arm to look at what he’s doing. He turns to face you. “What do you want?”

“I want you to keep the creeps away from me.”

“So, you admit that you need me to look out for you?” he asks. He extends his arms behind him and places his palms flat against the counter as you press your face into his stomach. “Say it!”

“I need you to look out for me,” you mumble into his stomach. He laughs before winding his arms around you once more. “Bitch.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, shoving you off him. “Say nice things to me. You know I’m fragile.”

“Mhm,” you hum. “What you got here?”

“Tequila shots,” he answers. He plucks two shots off the plate and hands one over to you. You tap the little plastic cups together before tossing the shots back, shuddering at the taste.

“Let’s ditch this party.”

Tyler chuckles at your proposition, then sees that you’re serious. He takes the shot glass from you and moves to the sink to toss them in it. He turns again to face you and leans up against the edge of the counter.

“What? You want me to just kick everyone out?”

“Why not?” you ask. Your grin is contagious and it makes Tyler smile even wider. “We don’t care about any of these people anyway. Your teammates that were here all left with the girls.”

“It’s only 10 p.m., though.”

“Okay?”

“The night is young.”

There’s a beat of silence. He’s waiting to see what you have planned at the sake of an early night. You exclaim, “Let’s get tattoos!”

“Tonight?” Tyler asks with his eyebrows stitched together in confusion. You nod, smiling goofily at his surprise. “Your mom would kill me.”

“She absolutely would not,” you remark. “She loves you.”

The compliment brings a smug smile to his lips. Tyler stares up at the ceiling, allowing your suggestion to set in. Finally, he looks back down and asks, “What would we even get?”

It’s not a yes, but it’s close enough. You hop up excitedly, pressing both palms against his shoulders. The answer is easy, so it rolls right off your tongue.

“Stars.”

His eyebrows raise as he repeats, “Stars?”

“Yes, as in the Dallas Stars.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he teases. You glare at him playfully, but your smile returns when he wraps his arm around your waist and brings his face to yours. You can smell the liquor on his breath when the tip of his nose touches yours. He’s so close you could kiss him. “Let’s do it.”

Despite the late hour and it being a national holiday, Tyler’s able to call in a favor and ends up getting a tattoo artist to work on the two of you. Tyler was buzzing with excitement the entire car ride to the tattoo shop. You watched him chat away with the cab driver, wondering how he was being so brave. He feels your eyes on him and looks over with a smile.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you admit. Tyler’s eyebrows stitch together. He reaches out, running his hand over your hair and down to cup the nape of your neck.

“I’ll go first, alright?” he offers. “You’ll be fine. Actually, you have to be fine because you can’t back out now.”

Tyler keeps his promise and settles into the chair effortlessly within five minutes of entering the tattoo shop.

You watch Tyler flex his bicep as he sits and, quickly, divert your gaze. It doesn’t go unnoticed as both the artist and Tyler, glance toward you. Tyler smirks knowingly at the redness of your neck, the subtle biting of the inside of your cheek. He’s satisfied with the reaction, having only gotten it from you twice before tonight.

And, then, he’s brought back to reality as the tattoo artist starts explaining what he’s about to do.

You should’ve gone first because watching the needle go into Tyler’s arm like that freaks you out. Tyler reaches out with his other hand, noticing how pale your face is, and squeezes your knee. You look up at him and he mumbles, “Relax. It’s fine. See?” 

He smiles brightly to help the situation

“I’ll be here the whole time, too.”

A little while later, after there’s a star on the inside of Tyler’s bicep, you find yourself in the chair. Your arm is positioned so that your palm is face up. Tyler inches closer to you, the wrap on his arm making an uncomfortable sound, and asks, “Are you sure about getting it on your wrist?”

His question is met with a glare and a sharp, “I’ll back out.”

“You can’t back out, YN!” he exclaims. “We’re gonna have tattoos together! That’s a level of friendship I’ve never been on with anyone before!”

“Friendship?” the tattoo artist asks under his breath. Your cheeks flush at the question, but Tyler ignores it.

“You’re going to be fine.”

You end up feeling more than fine. The feeling of the needle on your skin definitely wasn’t ideal, but it looked worse than it felt. Though, you pretended to be in immense pain as Tyler sat there holding your hand. It was a good excuse for the physical contact.

As soon as the artist is done, he steps away to clean up a bit and Tyler lifts your wrist to his eye level. He stares, open-mouthed, at the four little stars on your wrist. It’s hardly anything to gawk at, but he finds himself falling in love with the little make-shift constellation on your skin. 

“It’s so pretty,” Tyler coos. He resists the urge to run his finger along the fresh ink, but he so badly wants to touch it. “I love it.”

You shouldn’t be staring at him like this, especially not when you have fresh ink on your skin to admire. But it’s so hard to look away from him. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty when he’s admiring you.

“Honesty hour?” Tyler asks as you pull one of his sweatshirts over your head. He’s sitting against the frame of the bed with a bottle of champagne in his hand. You two have been nursing the bottle since you got back to the house over an hour ago, keeping your buzz from the night going.

You sit cross-legged across from him and nod.

“Sure.”

“When I met you in that bar after you didn’t call me, I was so sure that we would sleep together once and that would be it,” Tyler admits. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig. You laugh at him. “You just wouldn’t let me even try.”

“It’s because I find you repulsive.”

“That’s a damn lie!” he exclaims with a cocky eyebrow raise. He extends the bottle to you and you take it without a second thought. “You know I’m attractive.” He waits a beat and says, “I know you’re attractive.”

You swallow the liquid and wave him off, muttering an ‘okay’.

“Two years of friendship and we never even kissed,” Tyler remarks. You nod at him before handing the bottle back to shut him up. It works for a moment as he takes another sip of the alcohol, but then he opens his mouth again to ask, “Why is that?” 

“Why did we never kiss?” you ask, making sure you heard him right. Tyler nods. “I’ve seen what happens to the girls you get romantically involved with. They don’t stick around very long.”

You’re surprised by how honest your response is… And apparently so is Tyler. He leans his head back against the bed and runs a hand over the scruff on his face.

“For whatever reason, I wanted to stick around.”

For several reasons, actually, but you can’t say that.

“I’m ready for bed,” Tyler announces suddenly. He takes one last swig of the champagne and hands it over to you. “Finish it off. I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

You chug the rest of the liquor, feeling the need to be intoxicated to withstand the tension between the two of you. Then, you pop into the bathroom to brush your teeth beside him. He smiles at you in the mirror, happy with the domesticated scene he’s a part of.

He rinses off his toothbrush and places it on the counter before slipping out of the bathroom behind you to return to the bedroom.

You join him not long after. He’s sitting up against the headboard, his newly tattooed arm resting behind his head as he waits for your arrival. You slip under the covers beside him, immediately nestling your head into the pillow beneath you. He slides down as well, flicking the lamp beside him off.

“Ty?” you call. He hums in response. When you shift to face him, he follows your lead. Another minute goes by without a word. The light from the window is just bright enough to make out his profile. You can see his big brown eyes staring at you intently.

Finally, after you fail to speak up, he asks, “Yes?”

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper. Tyler folds his pillow beneath his head and nods. “You don’t know how much I love you.” Tyler was about to butt in, but you pushed your index finger against his lips to keep him quiet. “I’m proud of you, despite everything. I always am.”

“I know that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t say it enough,” you state. Tyler stays silent. “I just feel the need to give you the verbal validation. You know, since you’re so fragile.”

Tyler chuckles at this. He reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but he doesn’t retract his hand right away, allowing his thumb to brush over your cheekbone. He sighs and tells you, “I’m proud of you, too, even though you’re a broke college student.” 

“Thanks.” You chuckle along with him. “Promise you won’t forget about me when you’re living large in Texas?”

“I could never forget you, YN,” Tyler murmurs. “Especially not now that you made me get a tattoo with you.” 

The room goes silent again, but this silence feels heavy. It’s loaded and slightly uncomfortable. Tyler’s thumb is still running along your cheekbone, until it abruptly stops and he sighs again. He shifts, bringing his face closer to yours and, suddenly, your heart rate speeds up. He states, “Honesty hour.”

“Okay.”

“I think I’d beat myself up forever if I never kissed you before moving to Texas.”

Nothing else needs to be said. You lean in instantaneously and plant your lips on his. It’s somewhere between a peck and something more and it only last a moment. It feels way too quick. When you pull away, Tyler’s eyes are wide and searching.

“What?” you ask. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. You’re chest-to-chest, staring into each other’s eyes. It feels so intimate and Tyler can’t stop thinking about how that kiss wasn’t enough. All these years he’s been convinced that one kiss would be enough to rid him of his yearning for you.

It only made it worse.

He shakes his head, a coy smile playing on his lips, and then he tucks your head beneath his chin. He decides he can’t kiss you again because it’ll just make this more difficult. His hand travels over your back and keeps you tight against his bare chest. He murmurs, “Goodnight.”

“Night, Ty.”

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin x reader #tyler seguin fic #tyler seguin story #dallas stars #dallas stars hockey #hockey imagine #tyler seguin imagine #dallas stars imagine #love #angst #fluff #sports #mk writes