please-say-less

[please-say-less]

push my luck (part one)

player: mat barzal | new york islanders word count: 1, 539 warnings: light angst, pining, your heart will literally melt at how sweet mat is, no beta we die like men summary: growing up with mat, you’ve only ever seen him as the shy boy that you’ve spent your whole life being best friends with. after moving to new york, he hasn’t kept in much contact, but when you come to visit, he just wants to know if you’re feelings for him have changed too. author’s note: issa three-shot. bad summary is bad but kinda wrote this on the basis of mat as moreso a Soft Boy™ with hints of being a goober. yeah bro idk what’s with me and roommates to lovers tropes. ok but let me know if y’all are even vibing with the way i write his pov cos my writing feels highkey cringe to me all the time. whoops.

beginning | part two

“Hey, you okay, dude?”

It’s difficult to breathe with the air stuck in his throat, and he can’t help but rub his clammy hands all over his new suit－oh well, it looked nice enough for a few photos. His face is getting a little too hot, and he’s become a stuttering mess with his words. Anybody would think after the last couple of years as a well-known athlete in New York, he’d be able to handle any stressful situation, yet you manage to give him the same effect time after time.

“Huh?” he looks back over to Tito. “Y-Yeah. . . Totally fine.”

The questioning look on his friend’s face is enough of a dead giveaway that Mathew is probably the worst actor and liar on Earth, but he doesn’t care about the endless amount of teasing he’ll get for this. It’s been too long since he’s last seen you and to say that he misses the butterflies you give him would be quite the understatement.

Even now, he doesn’t see you as anything different than the same girl next door from home that he’s spent a majority of life being smitten with and the same ball of energy that’s cheered him on at every game from youth hockey to playing in the NHL until the two of you had to part ways. Yes, the worst event of his life that he’s dubbed his Untimely Death Part 1－Part 2 being the time Tito took him out to Coney Island and handed the poor boy a pretzel before the seagulls started chasing him down the boardwalk. In a way, he’s spent part of his time in New York mourning the death of what used to be, and there’s still a part of him that regrets not keeping in contact with you.

He’s not the most confident guy when it comes to dating, and as he swallows the lump of nervousness that’s been building up in his throat, Mathew hopes that his uncertainty isn’t as painfully obvious as he usually makes himself out to be.

He downs the shot of whiskey, and as the amber leaves a burning trail from his throat down to his belly, he mentally prepares himself on his introduction to you. He wants you to know that he’s grown in the last couple years, and he’s not the same immature boy you knew back home. He’s a man now and has the means to take care of you, should you need it. Chin up, head high, and shoulders back－he struts up to you with his newfound confidence.

“You look beautiful in that dress,” he comments.

Turning around confused, you smile as soon as you see who it is. The two of you embrace, and he can’t help but admire just how well your body fits in his arms－as it always has honestly. He probably has the dumbest, widest smile on his face right now, but he’s just so elated to see you again. It’s hard for him to concentrate on the words coming out of your mouth as he gazes at you with loving eyes through rose colored glasses. You’re just really here right now.

“Mat! It’s been too long!”

He offers you his arm, and you take it as he walks you over to the bar and orders two flutes of champagne from the bartender. The two of you continue to chat for too long of a while, and he almost forgets that talking to you comes just as naturally as breathing. He admires your features and notices that you’ve done some growing as well. Your curves have filled out lusciously, and you have a more womanly aura that surrounds you.

“So how are you and that one guy?” he asks. “You two still together?”

“Please, we were never a thing,” you roll your eyes. “I can’t believe my mom told your mom about that－it was just one date!”

“I’m guessing it didn’t go great then?”

“He spent the whole time messaging other girls, so I made up some excuse to leave. The loser wouldn’t stop messaging me wondering why I wouldn’t go out with him again, and I had to bite my tongue!”

He nods in understanding as you let out an exaggerated huff, but mentally, he’s doing backflips out of joy knowing that maybe you’ve been waiting just as long for him too. How else could someone as beautiful as you still be single after all this time?

“New York seems nice,” you say.

“It’d be nicer with you,” he chuckles.

“Those are some bold words to say, Barzal.”

“It gets kind of lonely sometimes. Tito’s always been closest to me, and now that he’s got a girl, it’s just easier to tell them I’m busy than suffer through being a third wheel.”

You can’t help but laugh at his lame attempt at getting you to move countries, but at the same time, a change of scenery doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all. Besides your family, nothing’s really keeping you tied to your hometown, and your parents continuously insist that you see the world before you settle down. After all, you were single and fresh out of college but having a familiar face in a new place didn’t make it seem as scary.

“I don’t know. . .” you chew your lip. “I did get a job offer around here.”

“Oh yeah?” he tries to contain his excitement.

“I just wouldn’t know where to stay or what to do. A new city can be scary.”

All the stars and moons in the galaxy have perfectly aligned for this moment to finally culminate, and this must be the work of his prayers finally being answered. He needs to shoot his shot now while the ball’s in his court, or the chance may never come again. A sudden wave of nervousness crashes over him at the possibility of the actual death of his relationship with you should he hesitate once again.

“You could stay with me if you wanted－I mean－until you can find your own place.”

He sincerely wants to help you, but he also feels a sense of guilt in hopes that you end up depending on him. Although money hasn’t become an issue in his life after taking the big leap and signing a contract with the Islanders, New York City is by no means an inexpensive place to live.

“I wouldn’t want to impose. . .”

“No－I want you to stay with me!”

Suddenly his Untimely Death Part Three is going to come sooner than expected. His shoulders tense and jaw clenches as he realizes what he’s just blurted out, and he can feel his face turning red at just how dumb he is. He’s just revealed his biggest secret, and he’s in no way subtle or chill about it. He’s ready to turn back around, run out of the building, and head back to his house to hide under a rock until things blow over, but he becomes confused when he hears you giggling.

“I think you’re the only person who’s ever been this excited to live with me,” you smile.

“Uh－Yeah－Wouldn’t want you staying with some stranger or creep, y’know?”

He tries to play it cool, but Mat Barzal, in fact, is not by any means playing it cool. If anything, he’s the creep for trying to get you to stay with him. As if by some magic, you would fall head over heels for him overnight, and everything he’d been dreaming of since childhood adolescence would finally be coming true.

He’d whisk you away, and the two of you could be married somewhere beautiful with white sand beaches and ocean water as clear as the sky. Then maybe you could honeymoon throughout Europe before settling down and buying a house. After that, kids could fit somewhere into the equation. Wait, do you even want kids? He ponders the idea to himself for a moment before smiling at the idea of how cute you would look pregnant, and when he imagines you as a mother tending to your children and husband, he’s sold himself on the idea.

“Careful, I might have to take you up on that,” you snap him out of his daydream.

“Wh-What?” he stutters.

“Honestly, I kind of miss hanging out with you. No one back home can really compare to the Mathew Barzal.”

A light blush spreads across his cheeks. His full name sounds like a symphony coming out of your mouth, and he spends a little too much time focusing on the way your plump lips sound out each syllable of his name. He can’t help but imagine how soft your lips would feel if they were pressed against his, but as he continues to picture the other things those lips could do, he stops himself before having to deal with the possibility of his Untimely Death Part Four in the middle of this gala.

Somehow with his not-so-convincing words, he’s managed to talk you into moving in with him, and when you talk to your families about it, they’re more than happy about your new living situation. It gives them the excuse to visit more often, but he’s more excited at the thought of just being around you again.

[please-say-less]

the roommate (part four)

player: connor mcdavid | edmonton oilers word count: 1, 610 warnings: injury, jealousy author’s note: apologies for the delay in writing, but i feel as thought my writing itself has been lacking lately as i read over my drafts. personally, i don’t want to send out something that’s lackluster, and it’s been an on and off cycle for a while now where i’ll write, re-read it, hate it, and then re-write. tl;dr: oh hi thanks for checking i’m still a piece of gArBaGe

part three | part five

As committed to his parents as he was, not even the captain of the Edmonton Oilers had taken a break when it came to work as everyone headed to Columbus for a single game, only to return to Edmonton the next day. You were standing along the sidelines during warm-ups swiping away at your work phone as notifications poured through on Instagram and Snapchat. Occasionally, you stole quick glances towards the Captain, but you didn’t let your gaze linger too long so as to not arouse any suspicion.

“How does someone as beautiful as you get stuck with Edmonton?”

Your face was quick to heat up, and when you turned around to see who it was, you felt yourself getting hotter, if that was even possible. You opened your mouth to say something back but couldn’t find the words to muster up, so you stared at the boy, mouth embarrassingly ajar.

“I’m Zach,” he introduced himself, chuckling at your nervousness.

He extended his hand out for you to shake it, and you felt absolutely guilty as you admired the smirk on his face. You composed yourself and gave him a questioning look and shrug, as if giving him some sort of response to the question you had dodged earlier. As handsome as he may have been, you felt obligated to defend the team you worked for.

“I’m blessed to be with the Oilers,” you blatantly responded.

Although they weren’t the best team in their division, let alone the NHL, you had to admit that you worked with some of the sweetest boys who all treated you like you were family, something you found tugging at your heartstrings as of lately. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you barely even noticed Seth Jones coming over to scold him for socializing.

You weren’t exactly used to guys hitting on you, so you brushed off the encounter and continued typing away at your device. It wasn’t that you were completely against the idea of dating. It was just difficult to maintain a balance between work and personal life, and with how much time your job consumed, it was obvious where your priorities sat.

The last few days had felt too overwhelming between the long hours at your job and second job as Connor’s girlfriend. You had absolutely no time to yourself, and you were ecstatic at the thought of having the next few days off from one of your jobs. It had been too long since the two of you had done a Netflix and pizza binge.

Biting your lip, you felt yourself becoming giddy at the ideas floating through your head for plans. Midday games were your absolute favorite because it meant that you and Connor had time to spend together instead of going to bed and waking up early to catch the next flight back. You adored away games for the simple fact that no one ever recognized Connor in casual clothing, and you reveled in the anonymity.

“Hey, I figured we could hit up an aquarium,” you offered. “Maybe even catch dinner at a food truck after that, yeah?”

A grunt was your only response. He didn’t even bother to stop, let alone look at you, as he skated by, and you twisted your face in confusion as to why he was being like this all of sudden. As of lately, you could barely deal with his mood swings, and they were only getting worse for some unbeknownst reason. Whatever it was, it was just irritating that it was always you who had to deal with the repercussions.

By the middle of the game, anxiety was slowly eating away at your insides as the first two periods unbearably passed. You’d become so accustomed to Connor’s sweet little gestures that you were on the verge of becoming irate over the attitude that had suddenly washed over him. He was purposely ignoring you, and although you couldn’t wrap your mind around why, you just knew that it had managed to get under your skin. Most of your time was spent scrolling through social media in an attempt to let the storm pass, but you were becoming more and more impatient to a point where you were nearing your wit’s end. You nearly glared a hole straight through him, and he must’ve felt his shoulders getting heavy. His eyes quickly darted back to you for the slightest moment, but the moment was short-lived as you hastily stood up from your seat to call out to him.

“Oh! A nasty hit to McDavid!”

Just as the announcer had stated the obvious to what happened, you felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach as you watched him fall down on the ice after colliding into one of the opponents. Connor was still laying on the ground in the following moments, barely showing signs of movement, and medics were making their way over to him to carry him off the ice. You instantaneously pushed your way through the crowd to find your way to the infirmary in the back.

“Is he okay?” you asked one of the medics standing outside.

“Definitely got the wind knocked out of him, but we’re considering taking him to the hospital just to be sure,” he calmly explained.

Biting your lip, you tried to calm yourself as you walked through the door to see him lying on top of the exam table. He looked completely irritated as the medics were trying to convince him to head to the hospital, but he was adamant about finishing the game.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m good to go back.”

Biting your lip, you put a decent amount of the blame on yourself. Maybe if he hadn’t been looking away, he would’ve seen who he was on the verge of running into, but instead, you just distracted him and caused an injury.

Oh god, it was your fault.

“Stay here, please,” you begged as you walked up to him, placing a hand on his arm. “There’s only three minutes left.”

He felt his resolve crumble at the sight of you pleading, and after heaving a sigh, he leaned back into the pillow, turning his head the other way. As upset as he wanted to be, you knew that he wouldn’t have been able to put up a fight with you.

It was agonizingly long as you sat outside the room, waiting for him to clear with medics, but when you saw him walking out with a sling, you were thankful that he was at least up and walking. You stood and ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck but careful to watch out for his injury.

“Please tell me it’s nothing too bad,” you pleaded as you stood back.

“Just a strained shoulder and bruised rib,” he answered. “I’m only out for one game if it heals fast.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, his eyes studied your worried face and felt his heart soften at the sight of your concern.

“I’m just gonna go shower up real quick. Do you wanna wait for me in the locker room?”

You nodded and followed right behind. Everyone had already dispersed which left you sitting by yourself on the benches waiting for Connor. Opening your phone, you scrolled through Facebook to see a video of the accident from the game, and suddenly, you felt your heart sink as soon as his body collided with the other one. As you scrolled through the comments, your uneasiness continued to fester before you finally decided to shut the damn device off.

You barely heard him coming as you saw him walking towards you in just his pair of boxer-briefs with a white towel thrown over his hair and duffel bag in one hand.

“Can you dry my hair for me?” he asked. “I’m having a hard time lifting my arm up without it hurting.”

As you stood up, you didn’t bother to ask how he managed to slip on his underwear with just one hand, but you figured it saved him the embarrassment of having to ask you for help with that one too. You grabbed the towel and ran it vigorously through his golden locks, and he sighed before leaning forward and pressing his head against your belly. Your cheeks heated up from the intimate contact, but you made quick work of his request.

Immediately, you reached over to grab for his button down, but his hand stopped you, insisting that he just wanted to change into sweatpants. His face was beet red from embarrassment at having his own roommate helping him get dressed, but it was the lesser of two evils than having to deal with the pain.

Getting his pants on was the easier part, but as soon as you got to his sweatshirt, you realized that he had to lift his arm to get it through the sleeve. When it finally clicked in his mind, the defeated look on his face left an uneasy feeling in your stomach, and he took a deep breath before quickly forcing the fabric on. It hurt your heart immensely seeing him straining to keep from making a sound as his face contorted in pain, so you ran your fingers through his golden locks to help ease him as much as you could.

“You okay?” you asked.

“I’ll live,” he shrugged.

You helped him finish packing up his things and walked out of the locker room together. He gingerly placed his good arm around your waist as the two of you made your way out of the building, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sound of his belly growling.

“Let’s get some dinner, yeah?”

[please-say-less]

Is the roommate part 4 in the works?? I’m obsessed. No rush though!!

LMAOOOOO HERE WE ARE ALMOST A YEAR LATER WITH PART FOUR. I’m just proofing before I head to work tonight.

[please-say-less]

when i taste tequila

player: connor mcdavid | edmonton oilers word count: 1, 875 warnings: alcohol/drinking, slight angst summary: you bump into your ex in a bar when he’s back home. music: tequila by dan + shay | speechless by dan + shay author’s note: me out here ignoring every other draft i have to write this songfic. mostly revolves around the song tequila, but when i wrote the scene where y’all are dancing, i pictured speechless. idk why i even ended it with that line. just cos i wanted to use lyrics from the song ig.

“I didn’t think you drank anymore.”

Jumping in surprise, you spit some of your drink back into the glass while the rest of it had begun to dribble down your chin and onto your UToronto sweater. Frowning, you stared down at the mix of vodka and cranberry that was definitely going to leave an ugly stain, and when you looked up to say something, you felt your breath getting caught in your throat. You never thought you’d see Connor McDavid around here anymore.

“I didn’t think you’d be back home already,” you replied.

He motioned for the bartender, and when they came around, he ordered a new drink for you and one for himself before plopping down on the stool next to you. You instantly grabbed a couple of napkins and began to pat down whatever remaining liquor was left on you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you that much.”

“No, you’re fine. Kinda lost in my thoughts, so I wasn’t really paying much attention.”

The bartender pushed two small shot glasses closer with salt decorating the rim and a lime to garnish. You could barely remember the last time you’d ever had a shot of José Cuervo, and the only reason you did end up remembering is because you were celebrating for Connor. He grabbed the shot glass and picked the lime off before motioning for you to take yours, and you repeated his actions.

“What should we do this to?” he asks.

“Do you really need a reason to take a shot?” you counter.

“There’s always a good reason. . . To Mitch on his engagement.”

The two of you clink your glasses together before swiping your tongue across the salt then tipping your heads back to let the burning liquid crawl down your throat. Immediately, you bit down on your lime to cool the fire in your mouth, and when he looked back over to you, he couldn’t help but laugh. In a questioning motion, you raised your eyebrow at him.

“You still make the same face you used to,” he smiled.

“I don’t drink as much as I used to,” you wiped the corner of your mouth. “And I haven’t done tequila in years.”

He motioned for the bartender to pour another round of shots.

“So Mitch is engaged now?” you asked.

“Yeah, just recently,” he answered. “Like a couple days ago.”

“That’s good for him. I really like Steph.”

“Almost makes me feel a little old, y’know? I can’t believe he’s gonna be the first of us to get married already.”

What he said was too true. You couldn’t believe that his longtime friend was already planning out his future, and it made you ponder what you were doing with your life. Nowadays, you only ever worked and went home, and most days you felt as though you were just going through the motions. You were boyfriend-less, and you barely called the group of gossipping girls at workplace your friends. You found it difficult to look forward to the weekend when you never had any plans whatsoever, and if you were being frank, seeing Connor again was the most exciting thing to happen to you in too long of a while.

After a couple more shots, you knew you were already passed buzzed, and you figured he must be too. Courageously, you leaned your head against his shoulder and smiled to yourself. Between the few dates you’ve managed to squeeze into your schedule since things had ended, none of them had ever managed to give you the same butterflies that Connor did. You’d spent too long being touch starved, and the small of amount of contact was enough fulfil the sensation you’d been yearning for.

“When did things go wrong between us?” you asked.

“When did things ever go right?” he joked.

Both of you chuckled, and you couldn’t help but shake your head at memories of the two of you being young, dumb, and in love. He spent a majority of the next two hours talking endlessly about the past while downing shot after shot with you. From your first date to your first Blue Jays game to your first pregnancy scare, he remembered every little detail between the two of you. It didn’t help that he spent most of the time grinning from ear to ear, as if he missed the good ol’ days too. Honestly, dating Connor was the most alive you’d ever felt.

Your finger was mindlessly drawing at the rim of the empty glass, and you couldn’t help but notice his intense gaze when he quieted down. He picked up your hand and observed your finger, fiddling with the piece of jewelry. His thumb ran over the small diamonds, and he smiled at just how beautiful it still looked years later.

“You still wear this?” he asked, the hint of something else in his tone.

“It keeps guys from hitting on me,” you shrugged. “Just not interested in looking for anyone right now.”

He bit his lip when you looked over, and you buried your face deeper into his shoulder, hiding your flushed face. It was the same ring he bought for you when you two were still dating and before he was making a seven-figure salary. Something modest yet beautiful, and you loved it nonetheless. It was more than a promise but not quite an engagement－something to tell you that he wanted you for forever, but it would’ve been a while before you donned the surname of McDavid.

Another pair of shots was pushed towards the two of you, and you weren’t sure how many more you could take before you would have trouble standing. Just as you downed the liquor once more, your ears perked at the sound of a certain song on the jukebox in the background, and you could feel your eyes beginning to well up with tears. It’d been too long since you heard this song, and what a wicked plan God had for you to play it at this moment in time.

“You remember this song?” you quietly ask.

“Yeah, I’d never forget it,” his voice nearly cracks.

In the midst of being young and foolish, you couldn’t help but anticipate the possible wedding. Just the thought of yourself wearing a lavish white gown down the aisle towards Connor was enough to give you chills back then－hell, it still did. It was the little things you’d mention to him every now and then, and there was nothing more he adored than seeing you in love with wedding planning.

He knew you wanted to use baby’s breaths for flowers, and the possibility of an outside ceremony sounded charming. It was the day that you brought up which song you wanted your first dance to be, and he remembered hearing you bounce between songs, finding it difficult to settle on one. Connor himself was never decisive and always insisted that you would make the better choice on everything, but he distinctly remembers seeing your face light up with so much joy once he suggested this song. Even after all these years, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get this song out of his head. No, it would always permanently embedded in.

He stood up and extended his hand towards you.

“Dance with me?” he asked.

Looking around, you only noticed a couple other patrons in the bar who were keeping to themselves. You wanted to feel shy and politely decline his offer, yet the alcohol in you said that you couldn’t say no to a dance with him to this song. You placed your hand in his, and he pulled you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist as your hands instinctively went behind his neck.

To anyone else, the two of you probably looked ridiculous dancing together in the middle of a dive bar, but you didn’t care because in your intoxicated mind, all you could do was picture the wedding with Connor that you’d always dreamt about. You looked away as a couple of tears quietly slipped down your cheeks, and you buried your face into his neck and pulled him closer, almost afraid to let him go once more. It was as though he understood your silent message when you felt his arms tighten around you, and he pressed a few soft kisses against the crown of your head.

“I hope you’re doing okay,” he barely whispered loud enough for you to hear.

“I. . . I’m not,” you answered truthfully. “I’m kind of lonely actually.”

He had a hard time swallowing the lump that was building up in his throat, and he hoped that you didn’t notice it in your haze. He’d always noticed the little things about you and having your head against him like this was almost too nostalgic for him to handle. While the current situation wasn’t exactly ideal, he was at least content knowing that he was able to see you once more. If anything, he wished he could have gone back and changed everything instead taking the easier route by breaking things off. He should have been more understanding of your situation and talked to you about it more, but it was difficult to be young and selfless.

It was the fastest three minutes you’d ever experienced. The song came to an end, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to leave his embrace. As much as you hated to admit it, you missed everything about him－his touch, his voice, his smile. You pulled your head back to look at him one more time, savoring the moment should it ever be your last. His brows were furrowed and eyes wandered over you, taking in every little detail they could. His licked his lips and opened them, as if to say something to you, but instead, he leaned down to gently kiss you. Your eyes closed, and you felt yourself relaxing into him. There was no teeth or tongue, just an innocent kiss full of love for you. He was too quick to pull away, and you almost whimpered at the loss of contact. You absolutely craved him at this point, and you weren’t sure if it was just the tequila talking.

“I still love you,” he confessed.

Nearly gasping, you slowly pulled yourself out of his arms and stood back. You started to fidget and twiddled your fingers together, finding it difficult to look for the right words to say to him let alone breathe. There’d always been a part of you that hoped he would one day say those words to you again, and now that you’d finally heard them, you had no idea what to say back to him.

“You. . . You don’t know what you’re saying,” you nervously responded. “You’ve just had too much.”

He grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, trying to calm you down. His other hand cupped your cheek wiped away stray tears falling down your face, peppering your jawline with soft kisses. He knew he had to tell you. He wouldn’t have been able to wait any longer for the chance.

“No, I haven’t had that much actually.”

“Connor. . .”

“I ain’t even drunk. . . And I’m thinking about how I need your love.”

[please-say-less]

just hungover you

player: sidney crosby | pittsburgh penguins word count: 1, 726 warnings: mentions of drinking, a low-key cheesy ending summary: you drunk text your ex. author’s note: ya’ll i’ve hit the worst writing block. forgive me for the sub-par fic.

Hey

I know it’s like two in the morning

But I just really miss you

Read 9:36 AM

Frowning, you stared at the three blue bubbles on your phone and groaned as you buried your head into the pillow. The impending headache was starting to arise, and you just wanted to drop off the face of the planet that moment. One: you were hungover, two: you’d woken up on your co-worker’s/best friend’s couch, and three: you managed to drunk text your ex.

“Hurry up and take these,” you heard.

Peeking out from the pillow, you saw her standing in front of you with some ibuprofen and a glass of ice water. It was a struggle to push yourself up and into a sitting position, but you had somehow managed as you took the medicine before downing the cold drink. Licking your lips, you could still feel a little of the cottonmouth.

“So how did it go?” she asked.

“I told you to stop me if I even thought about,” you attempted to scold her.

“If I remember it right, you were determined to get back together with him, and every time I tried taking your phone, you’d try to run away from me. I’d rather you text Sidney than get lost downtown in the middle of the night while you’re completely hammered.”

As much as you wanted to be a brat and stomp your feet, you had to admit that she was right. You rarely ever drank anymore because you’d received so many complaints about how reckless you were as soon as the alcohol hit you, but last night was a special occasion deemed appropriate enough to celebrate. Graduating from university was your cake and landing an internship at your dream company was the icing on top.

“He read it but didn’t say anything back. . .”

Placing a hand on your lap, she tried consoling you even though you weren’t even sure if you were disappointed that he didn’t return your text. It was you who had ended things because you needed to focus more on your schooling than a boyfriend, but it was also a two-way road when he didn’t exactly make an attempt at fixing things either.

“Get your things together,” your friend threw a spare change of clothes at your face. “The interns are having brunch with the senior partners.”

“Is that today?” you whined. “I can’t, I’m so hungover right now.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone so hard last night then.”

It was almost unbearable as you powered through a hot shower before sliding on the change of clothes, but you had somehow managed to look decently alive with some light makeup before the two of you were walking out the door to her loft. Just as you stepped outside, you could feel the pounding in your head coming back from the bright sun and obnoxious sounds of traffic, and you were praying that the ibuprofen would hurry up and kick in faster.

“So what was the deal with you last night anyway?” she asked as the two of you waited for the crosswalk lights to change colors. “It’s been almost a year already, and you just now decide to go through that phase.”

“I guess it was because I was going through old pictures of us on my phone,” you answered honestly after rolling your eyes. “I just started missing everything we used to have and got overly emotional, so I started drinking more to get my mind off of it.”

“Huh, so that’s how the night went downhill fast. . .”

Shooting her a glare, the two of you walked across the street and made your way another block over to the restaurant where a few of the interns had already gathered at a table set for your small group. The two of you had taken your seats, and you managed to down the glass of orange juice set in front of you.

“I’d avoid the mimosas if I were you,” your friend whispered in your ear.

Your eyes widened, and you could instantly feel your stomach knotting up as soon as the alcohol settled in. Clutching the area, you tried breathing to help relax yourself, yet the sickness was still settling in.

“How are we this morning?” your new boss walked up to the table.

“Good,” everyone greeted him back.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Go ahead and grab some breakfast!”

It didn’t take another word for you to stand up and start walking around, the sickening feeling in your stomach begin to subside as you started to move around. Surveying the buffet of food, you had to admit that the company you worked for had exquisite taste in food. Never before had you been to the quaint restaurant, yet as you scrutinized your surroundings, you could easily tell that it was the one of the finest establishments you’d ever been to.

Considering how uneasy your stomach felt, you settled on some fruit and a small omelette. The last thing you wanted was to spend a majority of the brunch in the bathroom hurling everything back up. Tapping your chin, you tried to pick which serving of fruit to settle on, but your eyes caught sight of two familiar tall, dark-haired men. Slowly, you attempted to weave your way out of the buffet without bringing too much suspicion to yourself and back towards your table subtly, but before you could make way for your only exit, you collided into two heavily built bodies.

“What are you doing?” they asked simultaneously.

“Geno! Kris!” you tried sounding enthusiastic. “Hi. . .”

They continued eyeing you down as it was ridiculously obvious that you were trying to hide from their field of vision. Readjusting yourself, you straightened out your clothes and tried to finesse your way out of the situation, but just as you were about to step away, the two had sandwiched themselves on either side of you to prevent your escape.

“Let’s get some brunch, yeah?” Kris asked Geno.

Holding the tray up against your chest, you mentally sighed as felt yourself becoming agitated while the two had started to give the chef their orders. It was somehow just your luck that you woke up with a massive hangover and managed to bump into your ex’s friends.

“So you and Sid talking again?” Geno asked.

“What?” you raised your eyebrow, confused.

“He was in a really good mood this morning for some reason,” Kris commented. “Haven’t seen that in a while since. . . well, since you.”

And it was like something struck in you.

“What is American expression I hear all the time?” the Russian pondered in his thick accent. “Smile little more, regret little less? Something like that.”

After that, they left you to stand there and ponder your thoughts, and you somehow managed your way back to your table in the midst of your haze. It was difficult paying attention to anything the senior partners were talking about, and you could feel the shame slowly rising from the thought of having to ask your friend what everything was said during the meeting. As you pushed around the fruit on your plate, the conversation from earlier was completely ringing over and over in your head.

An hour had already passed without you even realizing it, and when people at your table had stood to leave, you were quick to gather your things and make your way towards the door immediately. At that point of the morning, all you wanted to do was go home and lay in bed while trying to forget the last twelve hours of your life.

“Wait, I almost forgot my phone,” you interrupted your friend.

Making your way back to the table, you came to a standing halt as your eyes instantaneously connected with his, and you felt yourself becoming uneasy from both the hangover and sight of your ex. Yeah, your ex. You mentally heaved the largest sigh known to man and decided that you at least had to be cordial. After all, things didn’t end on bad terms whatsoever, so what exactly was making you so nervously guilty all of a sudden?

“Hey,” he walked up to you.

All you could do was continue to stare at him with your mouth agape, words coming at a loss for you while he was smiling that stupidly handsome smile of his. In your mind, you rehearsed this moment a multitude of times if it were to somehow ever happen, and now that you’d caught yourself in your current situation, nothing was managing to come to mind.

“You seem like you’re doing good,” he said. “You always told me how much you wanted to work there.”

“Yeah, I’m in a pretty good spot in life right now,” you managed to reply. “Things are finally falling into place for me.”

“I’m happy for you. . .”

It was like nostalgia was slapping you in the face when you felt warm butterflies, just like the ones you felt when the two of you had started dating. Everything in your life felt right as things were finally coming together for you, yet you still felt like you were missing something. Suddenly, Geno’s words had finally rung back in your ears.

Smile a little more, regret a little less.

“Uh, I guess I’ll let you get back to your co-workers,” he smiled.

He turned around and started to make his way back to his table as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Was this really how you wanted things to end between you and him? No, there was absolutely no way in hell you’d ever be able to live with yourself if you didn’t give it another chance.

“I haven’t been seeing anyone,” you said loudly enough for him to hear.

He stopped in his tracks and turned back to look at you, surprise across his face.

“I haven’t either,” he responded.

Just as a smile crossed your lips, a smirk had tugged at the corner of his. It was like some sort of unspoken message between you two that you’d been waiting for the right time to find your way back to each other, and you were quick to take the chance one more time.

“So I don’t have to wait until tonight to message you back that I miss you too then?”

[please-say-less]

the roommate (part three)

player: connor mcdavid | edmonton oilers word count: 1, 844 warnings: none author’s note: heads up that the suit i was thinking of when writing this was the one he wears for the puck personality vids. and it’s me over-exaggerating basic ass scenes in this to hype you up cos wtf is subtlety   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

part two | part four

“You don’t have to. You know that, right?”

It was the day after, and you wanted to cry at just how much your feet ached. You had worn those damn heels too long, and it was coming back to bite you for not taking them off sooner when you had the opportunity. His hands made small, circular motions on your feet, and you knew that he had no idea what he was doing but at least gave him an A for the endeavor. A rerun of Suits was playing in the background, and as much as you wanted to focus on that, you couldn’t help but stare at the boy in front of you. His brows were furrowed and eyes staring intensely as he put as much effort as he could into relieving you of the pain.

“I feel bad,” he replied. “Let me help make it better.”

“It was bound to happen since I don’t wear heels,” you shrugged. “Besides, shouldn’t you be getting ready to head to Rogers Place?”

Looking at the clock on his phone, he was surprised that it was already nearing that time in the evening. He stood and headed over to his bedroom to get himself ready, and you fell deeper into the couch to focus on the episode playing on the television.

Your work day was already finished earlier when you posted some old photos on Instagram and Snapchat of previous games where they played Calgary, and your boss was kind enough to give you the evening off since you could barely stand to be on your feet for more than ten minutes. However, just as you were getting comfortable on the couch, you heard a knock at the door.

“Is that Darnell?” you asked.

Stepping out of his bedroom, Connor was clad in dress pants as he made his way over to the doorway, quickly throwing on the undershirt that was in his hands.

“No, I never meet up with anyone before a game,” he answered. “I don’t know who it is.”

Lifting up the cover to the peephole, you saw Connor jump in surprise at the sight. He motioned for you to make your way to his bedroom, and you hastily threw the lap blanket off of yourself before stumbling over to his room to hide yourself under the covers.

“Hi, honey!”

Oh no. It was his parents.

“I-I thought you guys were meeting me at the arena,” Connor stuttered.

“Your mom thought we should pop on by before we head over to Rogers Place” you could hear his father.

“And where is your girlfriend, sweetie?” his mother asked.

“Uh, she’s in the bedroom getting ready too,” he replied.

You could hear more and more chatter coming through the door before Connor had finally made his way back into his bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. His footsteps were obvious as he made his way over to you, kneeling beside the bed, and you peeked your head out from under the covers. He placed an arm on the bed while his hand pulled some of your hair away from your face.

“Are they still here?” you asked.

His eyes stared off into the distance before clearing his throat as if he were scared of what was going to come out of his mouth.

“Come to my game tonight, yeah?” he said quietly.

“How could I ever say no?” you smiled.

Making your way out of bed, you followed him into the walk-in closet to start getting ready. You made sure to pull out a pair of flats tonight to save yourself from more pain, and you turned around to see Connor tucking his buttoned dress shirt into the pants. He reached into one of the drawers and grabbed a tie before twisting it into an ugly knot. Shaking your head, you undid the tie and straightened out the fabric before folding back into proper form, but as you took a step back, you realized the unsightly creases on his dress shirt need to be straightened out. After helping him put the jacket on to complete his ensemble, you took a step back to admire his selection for the evening. He always looked best wearing dark blue, and it only helped accentuate those eyes of his.

He made his way over to the connecting bathroom to finish up as you wandered around the closet to make your pick of the evening. Slowly, you started peeling piece by piece of clothing off yourself until you were only left in your panties and bra as you began to narrow down your choices.

“You should wear this one tonight,” Connor’s voice made you jump.

Suddenly you felt shy, modesty taking over you while he remained oblivious. One hand placed itself on the small of your back as the other reached towards one of the dresses hung up, and you felt a small shiver run up your backside from the contact. Sliding the dress off of the hanger, you were quick to slip into it to cover yourself from him.

“I need help,” you told him. “I can’t zip up my dress.”

“Yeah?” you heard him choke out.

He gently placed a hand on your back to hold the clothing in place as a shaking hand clumsily grabbed at the zipper. That familiar shiver was coming back, and you felt yourself getting caught up in the small gesture. It was like you were becoming vulnerable after letting him see you in such an intimate way, but it was bound to happen at some point.

“Do I look good?” you asked, turning around.

Suddenly you felt small as his eyes perused the sight of you. His mouth was slightly ajar, and when it looked like he was about to say something, you heard commotion coming from the living room, reminding you both that his parents were less than twenty feet away. Reverting your attention back to him, you noticed him awkwardly clearing his throat before making his way out into the living room, barely keeping his pace slow enough for you to follow suit.

“Oh my, look at you two!” his mother gushed. “We have to get a picture!”

“Mom, you don’t have to,” Connor insisted.

“Nonsense! I don’t even see a single picture of you two together, so I’ll get these done and framed for you before you know it. Just two seconds, honey.”

His arm found its way around your waist, something that was becoming too often these days, and you playfully pressed a quick kiss on his cheek, catching him off guard. After the flash had ceased, his mother looked pleased with the photo she’d taken, and Connor stood there with a surprised look on his face.

“No jersey?” his mom asked you as everyone started to leave the apartment.

“I just keep it in my office at work,” you lied. “It keeps it in good condition.”

“Good idea! Oh, these pictures turned out so cute. I can’t wait for you to hang these up.”

She bid you farewell in the parking garage before his parents headed off on their way, promising to meet with you again at Rogers Place. He opened the door for you to his car, and after you stepped into his Mercedes-Benz, you groaned as you a leaned back into the soft leather seat. It was supposed to be your night off to relax and binge watch some episodes, but here you were playing Mrs. McDavid again.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly muttered, starting the car and putting it in drive.

“Don’t. . . Don’t be,” you felt the guilt rising in you. “I said I’d have your back through this, and I meant what I said.”

He placed a hand on your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze as he pulled out of the parking garage and onto the streets. The car ride was quiet for the most part which was out of the ordinary because of how talkative Connor was, and it left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach the whole time. He didn’t say another word to you until the two of you had reached the private parking garage, away from the sight of fans.

“I’ll see you after the game,” he muttered, eyes avoiding yours.

He was quick to turn away and head in the opposite direction for the locker room, leaving you standing there alone with your hand in the air as you tried to wave goodbye to him. His change in demeanor had somewhat irritated you, but you decided not to dwell on it too much. You had bigger things to worry about that night.

As you walked through the staff entrance after sliding your keycard, you made a beeline for the merchandise closet where they kept all the extra stuff for the store stocked. It didn’t take long for you to find the stacks of McDavid jerseys as soon as you entered, and as your eyes immediately caught the breakaway jerseys, you decided to treat yourself to an authentic one instead. You figured you deserved one after all the absurdities Connor had pulled you through in the last week.

After settling on one, you grabbed it and made your way back to your office where you kept a spare change of clothes should any occasion arise, and you rolled your eyes at the thought of Connor having to deal with changing out of his suit and into his hockey gear for every single game. The dress slid off with ease, and you mentally sighed at the thought of having to put it back on later again. You changed into an undershirt and leggings before throwing the jersey on and making your way through the hallways to the staff area.

“Can’t stay away from this place too long, eh?” your boss joked.

“I figured I’d use one of my free games for tonight,” you shrugged.

Being lucky was almost an understatement as you managed to find the right excuse as to why you were at Rogers Place, and maybe you were even luckier that staff members were allowed one free game throughout the season to watch from a suite. Mentally breathing a sigh of relief, you were fortunate that you hadn’t used up your one game since you weren’t too keen on spending more time at your workplace than needed.

“McDavid’s your favorite out of all of them?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, I just grabbed one of the extra jerseys in the back if that’s okay. I mean-I can swap it out if you need me to.”

“No, that’s fine! The amount of Flames jerseys in here is almost blinding.”

You laughed before making your way to the elevator leading to the staff suite. His parents had insisted that you sit with them in theirs, but you had fibbed to them about the company having a strict policy on where to sit for free games. The last thing you needed that evening was for fans to question who the third person was in his family’s suite.

[please-say-less]

when it’s over

player: zach werenski | columbus blue jackets word count: 1, 753 warnings: angst, friends with benefits, mild language, nsfw/slightly steamy, unrequited love, less than happy ending summary: you’re supposed to be friends with benefits, but catching feels is a real thing. author’s note: if i get to a part two, i get there, but if i don’t. . . i don’t get there like this is it. it’s my hella buzzed ass writing sad shit cos that’s what i do best when i drink, and i’m really hoping this doesn’t have any spelling or grammatical errors cos i’m too lazy to proof it right now. but it’s me back in the writing scene now that hockey season’s back, ayyy.

“I love you.”

It was three small words, yet the impact they left on you was beyond phenomenal. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and as he let out a groan, you felt his hot cum filling you to a point where it had begun to slowly seep out. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, and you buried your head into his shoulder to hide your face from just how elated you actually looked. A deep growl poured from his throat, and you felt yourself becoming flushed knowing every delicious sound he elicited was because of you. The movement of his hips slowed before ceasing to a halt, riding out the rest of his high as he lifted his head to capture your lips once again.

Although it was in the heat of the moment, it was the first time those pretty words had graced your ears, and you felt it beginning to slowly burn itself deep in your mind. Your heart was swelling with emotion, ready to burst at the seam and beat out of your chest, but as you were caught up in your little moment, you barely noticed your surroundings until his voice pierced through your thoughts.

“Do you want a bottle of water too?”

Shaking your head, you let yourself fall deeper into the bed as he rolled off the sheets to get up, pulling his boxers on before making his way over to the door. You admired how beautiful his back muscles looked as a light sheen of sweat reflected off of him from the soft moonlight coming through the window, and you sucked in a breath when he reached a hand up to run it through his hair, muscles lighty flexing. It was sight you would never grow tired of seeing.

Biting your lip, you felt guilt rising in you as you caught yourself admiring him again. It was becoming your guilty pleasure nowadays, and as much as you told yourself that it needed to come to a stop, your instincts would say otherwise the moment he’d have you falling back onto his sheets. You didn’t have the strongest of resolves, and you knew it was one of your worst faults.

He came back and downed the bottle hasilty, missing a few drops as they fell onto his chest and cascaded down in rivulets. A chuckle erupted from his throat as he placed it down on the nightstand once he caught your curious eyes scrutinizing him.

“Does that look mean another round?”

Letting your gaze wander lower, you noticed him becoming aroused already, and it gave you some sort of satisfaction knowing that you had that kind of effect on him. You bit your lip as he pulled the sheets back.

“No clothes if you want to come back to bed,” you purred.

A smirk graced his lips as he slid off his underwear once again before crawling over to your side of the bed, laying himself atop of you.

“God, you’re so fucking irresistible,” he admired.

His greedy hands ran along the curves of your sides, and you felt your body beginning to arch into his touch, something you knew you’d never get sick of savoring. He took no hesitation in burying his face into your neck and leaving heavy kisses that evoked the breathtaking sounds that were coming out of your mouth.

“Louder for me, baby,” his husky voice whispered into your ear.

Just hearing him was more than enough to start the fire inside of you as desire pooled in your belly, not that it took him much, and your hands were grabbing at any part of him that you could manage to grasp. His lips found their way back to yours as he pulled you in for a heated kiss, wasting no time in curling his tongue with yours, but as you felt his fingers start to dip inside you, his phone’s ringtone suddenly went off.

“Fucking christ,” he cursed.

His opposite hand moved to silenced the phone, and he returned to his actions, slowly pumping his fingers into your core while rubbing light circles over your clit. You could barely contain yourself when his long fingers ghosted over that magical spot inside of you, and a smirk graced his lips as you beg and beg for more. His eyes watched you intently as he focused more on getting you to reach your climax.

It’s his phone once again, and the frustration on his face is painfully obvious, not that the disappointment on yours was subtle in any way. He groaned and rolled off of you before frustratingly grabbing the device off of his nightstand, deeming the call important enough to interrupt the two of you.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he reassured you.

He placed a light kiss on your forehead before heading out of the room and into the hallway, and you could feel the ghost of his touch lingering on you. Mentally sighing to yourself, you wondered where things had gone wrong as you rolled over and faced the opposite way. All throughout school, you’d always been taught to watch out for sexually transmitted infections, like chlamydia, gonorrhea, and herpes, yet no one had managed to explain the complications of what were to happen when you go from friends with benefits to a one-sided relationship. No one ever prepared you for the inevitable feelings to get in the way, but they made sure to pressure you into believing that sex was sacred and meant to be saved for that special someone. It made your heart ache thinking that you did save yourself for the right person, even though you figured that the intimacy wasn’t as sacred to him as it was to you.

He stepped back into the bedroom and mumbled an apology for disturbing your night to which you shook your head before reassuring him he was fine. After all, work was work, and part of your agreement was that the job came first. He was quick to crawl back into bed, but the fire inside the both of you had died down, leaving the two of you lying together with your back against his chest and arm draped over your waist.

He was aching for your touch after his week-long trip away from Columbus, and it was evident that he undoubtedly craved your affection from just how touchy he was at the moment. Regardless, the barrage of “I miss you” and “Can’t wait to be home with you again” text messages were enough to have you anticipating his return as well, and that was how the two of you had subsequently ended up at his place.

His thumb rubbed small circles on your thigh while his lips placed light, feathery kisses on your shoulder, and you had an uneasy feeling festering in the pit of your stomach. You felt yourself becoming overwhelmed with emotions once again, and you realized the mistake you were making every night. It was finally coming back to bite you, just like it did on lonely nights you had spent lying awake on your bed while staring at the ceiling, anxiety coursing through you. You needed to stop this before it got even more out of hand than it already had been, so you pushed yourself away from his embrace and sat on the edge of the bed, looking for any article of clothing that would come in sight.

“Where are you going?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Home,” you quietly answered.

“You don’t have to. Just stay the night with me like you always do, yeah?”

“I just need to be home right now. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do in the morning so. . .”

“And this isn’t your second home?”

He was more than right. You’d become so accustomed to being over at his place that you didn’t even think twice about most of your belongings that were already there, so you took a moment to sit there and really question whether or not you should have left. You desperately knew you wanted to just lay back and enjoy his presence. After all, what would’ve been wrong with shooting your shot? What if things were to work out well between the two of you?

He leaned over and wrapped an arm around your waist, and you felt yourself slowing relaxing into his touch, something you were foolish to do. Your emotions returned to running rampant, and you could feel yourself becoming light-headed from the stress.

“No, I can’t do this anymore!” you blurted out.

Tears had begun to pool in your eyes, and you knew that if you didn’t hurry, they’d be falling down fast before you knew it. Grabbing any remainder of clothing you could get your hands on, you were quick to rush out the door, throwing on whatever hoodie you managed to snag before you were out the door, and he was already throwing on a pair of sweatpants before following you, not too far behind. You made your way to the end of the hallway of his apartment complex, and the elevator door quickly opened after pressing the button. Just as you stepped inside and crossed your arms, your clouded eyes caught sight of him rushing out of his apartment. He ran towards you, but the doors were quicker than him and slid shut, leaving you with only two words.

“Don’t go!”

Your body tensed up at the moment that almost was, but you closed your eyes and breathed to relax yourself as the elevator slowly descended down the building. Feeling nervousness bubble in your stomach, you could already tell that things were going to be messy, but it would become chaos to be swept up at a later time. In that moment, all you wanted to do was crawl into a ball and cry before making an attempt to recollect your life back together. You made sure to check your pockets to make sure you had everything you needed since the last thing you wanted was to making your way back to his place for your keys or anything.

Feeling your phone vibrating, you knew immediately what was to come. He was relentless as you pulled the device out from your pocket to see his name and smiling picture plastered on the screen, almost mocking you in some sort of way. Sighing to yourself, you silently wished that things would’ve worked out differently, but the odds were never in your favor.

[please-say-less]

wowowowow thank you so much!! ☺️🤗

Top 5 favorite stories by other blogs atm?

by stories, i assume you mean things with parts which i actually tend not to read until they are done (with a few exceptions)…

i’m constantly obsessed with whatever @whockeywhore is working on (especially after all)

@nhlinfluenced just did a pld series that was incredible

i’m really looking forward to @please-say-less ‘s connor mcdavid series

@thepuckproject just posted the first part of a tom wilson series that i super liked

@jveseys has a bunch i am hooked ok

the pld series: part one and the rest of the parts are here

chaos theory is great here are the parts:

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

‘when we go’ about mitch marner i can’t wait for

i’m not sure is @just-hockeythings it’s continuing ‘oops’ but i love it

Oops Part One , Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight

@sinbinkings ‘s auston imagine is great:

january - february - march - april - may - june - july - august - september

@hrtfrdwhlrs ‘s pld series was incredible

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 

@babrielandeskog  ‘s gabe series was brilliant and if you haven't read that then what are you doing with your life

Made Your Mark on Me: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

last but not least ‘offbeat’ by @mapleleafstrash was incredible

and in making this list i realised i am currently hooked on a lot of fics and was completely lying when i say i wait for them to be over…

[please-say-less]

like father, like son

player: tyler seguin | dallas stars word count: 984 warnings: insecurities about parenting, maybe jealousy (?) summary: tyler can’t wrap his head around why your son prefers you over him. author’s note: yeah, i’m not hot at doing warnings. tying to get better at writing fluff, so i came up with this. not proud, but not completely disappointed this time around.

“Can you say ‘Daddy’ for me? C’mon, I know you can do it.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you stared at the sight in the living room from the kitchen while doing dishes. Tyler was sitting on the floor playing with your son in his walker as he attempted to teach him the word once again. It was his goal for the past few weeks, but your son just wasn’t having any of it.

“Mm. . . Mama.”

A giggle was close from erupting in your throat as you placed the last plate onto the drying rack. Your eyes wandered over once more, and it took more in you to hold back a laugh as the child completely avoided his gaze and stared over at you, jumping in joy as you smiled at him. Sighing in defeat, you watched as Tyler flopped onto his back.

“What is it?” you cooed.

“Are you asking me or him?” Tyler pointed respectively.

“I mean, it was meant for both of my babies.”

A grin had made its way to his face before he ran a hand through his hair, and as you dried your hands with a kitchen towel, he got up to make his way over to you. You backed up against the counter, and he placed his hands on both sides of the counter, entrapping you in his embrace. You ran a hand up his abdomen before letting it linger on his chest. Looking up at him, you felt yourself slowly melting at his intense gaze, and you were so mesmerized by those beautiful eyes that you didn’t really notice him leaning down until you felt his soft lips.

“How do you do it?” he asked, lips resting against yours.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

As playful as he seemed about asking, you knew that there was insecurity hiding underneath his tone. The endless nights and days spent at practice, games, and promotions led to some absence in your son’s life, and he blamed himself for those reasons. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know, and a part of you was hurt that he could think such a thing of himself. Things were the complete opposite; your son had reached a point where he recognized Tyler’s schedule and knew when he was coming home from practice and home games. It was evident when you noticed that he’d get extra fussy as you could hear his car pulling into the garage.

“He likes you more than he likes me,” a pout began to form.

Just as he said that, you watched as Gerry and Marshall were starting to crowd around the boy while Cash was lazily splayed out on the couch, watching from a distance.

“Puppy!”

“He’s only two,” you replied. “He doesn’t even know which dog is his favorite.”

You felt him chuckle against you as he at least had to give you that one, but just as he leaned in for another kiss, you heard a loud cry from across the room. Immediately the dogs had stepped away, and the two of you made your way over to him. Tyler picked up him, but no matter how much rocking or cooing he did, your son wouldn’t stop.

“I-I don’t know what to do!” Tyler panicked.

You grabbed your son from him and started bouncing the boy in your arms, and he was quick to quiet down.

“My Mama.”

Just as he said that, you saw Tyler’s eyes go wide, and he pursed his lips before giving a small nod at the sight.

“You know, I’m starting to put two and two together,” he started.

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

“I think he’s finally reached the ‘mine’ phase.”

At that comment, you finally realized what he said may have actually been true all along. You noticed over the last few weeks that whenever one of the dogs would try to grab one of his toys, he’d start throwing a fit immediately, and he was especially defensive over things that weren’t even his. However, it made you really wonder why he was so clingy towards you whenever Tyler was home.

“Hey, your clasp is showing,” he pointed out.

His hand reached out to adjust your necklace, but just as he reached closer, the younger boy had pushed his face into your neck. It was then that you finally realized the situation: your son was absolutely envious of his father. Tyler’s eyes narrowed as he watched you hold a hand up to your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter while your other arm was still holding onto your son.

“Something funny?” he asked.

“There’s a reason he doesn’t want to learn how to say ‘Daddy’,” you replied.

“And why’s that?”

“I guess jealousy is a quality he picked up from you.”

“Me?!”

“Well, ‘mine’ and ‘Mama’ are what most of his vocabulary consist of nowadays.”

Walking over towards the couch, you took a seat and gently lay your son on your chest. Naptime was approaching, and it was evident that he was right on cue as you watched him yawn before burying his head in your neck. Although it was at a distance, Tyler had taken a spot on the couch next to you, and it was obvious that he was stewing in his own anger

“I just don’t get why you’re his favorite. It’s like-”

Cutting him off, a small hand wrapped around one of Tyler’s large fingers, pulling on it, and he led his hand over to you, setting it down on your chest as if it were some agreement that he was sharing you for the moment.

“Mama.”

Shrugging his shoulders with a light sigh, Tyler finally settled on the deal and scooted closer to you before placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“I guess we can share. . . for now.”

[please-say-less]

What I’m actually doing instead of working on my writing. Stay tuned, y’all. I see the McSavior on Monday.

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When I read the roommate fic in my head I all I could think about was the ”omg and they where roommates” vine 😩😂❤️

LORD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL 😭😂

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the roommate (part two)

player: connor mcdavid | edmonton oilers word count: 1, 209 warnings: none author’s note: not really pleased with myself on how i’ve done this chapter, but i’m more content with how my later chapters are written if you guys plan on sticking this out. i’m not really into writing fluff, and it’s hard to write this not as a slow burn story.

part one | part three

It didn’t take long to move your stuff into his place since you didn’t own that much, and with the help of his teammates you had all of your belongings unpacked and put into place, feigning the appearance of a couple who had been living together for a while. It only took a few days for some sense of normalcy to take over as you slowly adjusted to living with Connor.

In a way, it felt pleasantly intimate seeing him a way you knew no one else could. The look of him wandering the house half asleep in the morning, the anticipation in his eyes as he followed every move you made when you were cooking, and every sign of appreciation he gave for doing the littlest things from picking up after him to laying out his outfits.

“My parents should be here soon,” Connor pulled you out of your thoughts. “They’re just trying to find a parking spot.”

He got out of the car to walk around and open the door for you, extending his hand as you placed yours into his. After stepping out, you straightened out the dress that hugged your body wonderfully, but you had to frown at the matching heels. You were secretly hoping that the night wouldn’t last too long since you and heels weren’t the best combination to grace this planet, but as your gaze wandered over to your reflection on his shiny car, you felt yourself getting flustered at just how beautiful you actually looked. Connor had taken it upon himself to personally pick out your outfit and have your hair and makeup done professionally for the occasion, and needless to say, you felt like the hottest piece of arm candy in Edmonton that night.

“I have something for you.”

Looking back at Connor, you noticed him dig through his pocket to pull out a velvet box. Even though you knew this whole thing was a sham, it still made your heart skip a beat at the sight of the shiny ring, and your heart raced as he picked up your hand and gently slid it onto your left ring finger

“Is this supposed to be a promise ring?” you asked.

“If it turns out being an engagement, we might be playing ‘House’ longer than I expected,” he chuckled.

You wanted to laugh at his joke but found yourself smiling more so at the ring as you admired its beauty, and it warmed your heart knowing that he had picked it out just for you. As headlights rolled into the parking lot, the diamonds on it shined even more beautifully, but you had to remind yourself to stay focused to the task at hand. As they exited the vehicle, he walked over to them for a hug while you followed behind the boy.

“And you must be the lucky lady,” his mom looked over his shoulder at you.

He stepped aside as she moved towards you for a hug while his dad followed suit, and afterwards, you all began walking towards the restaurant. As you entered the building, the host told you two that it would only be a ten minute wait to set up for your table. His parents excused themselves to the restroom, so you and Connor waited outside in front of the building.

“You’re doing just fine. Don’t worry so much.”

His arm found its way around your waist, and as you leaned into his touch, you could feel a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead. The butterflies in your stomach were running rampant, and you had to keep reminding yourself that this just to get his parents off his back. As soon as they’d head back for Ontario, things would be going back to normal. Keeping your head on him, you hoped everything would go as planned for the evening.

“So where are you and your family from, darling?” his mom inquired as the appetizers were being passed out.

“Toronto,” you answered. “I moved here for college originally, and I loved it here so much that I decided to stay.”

“Hey, that’s not too far from us,” his dad commented. “Maybe we’ll have to meet your folks some day. Right, Con?”

“Yeah,” Connor nervously replied.

The conversation stayed on the lighter side as the dinner continued, and you could feel the nervousness in your stomach dwindle as things were starting to come naturally to you.

“How did you two meet?”

Scrunching your face, you tapped your chin in an attempt to let the memory come back to you.

“I think it was one of my first days,” you started. “I needed a picture of Connor to post on our Instagram page, and I made him retake way too many just so I could get the perfect one.”

“I was so miserable that day,” he continued. “My face ended up aching from smiling for so long.”

Laughter filled the little area as you carried on with the story. Underneath the table, you could feel Connor place a hand on your knee as if to signal that you’d done great, and you could feel yourself becoming giddy at the contact. His hand had slowly slid dangerously low as you crossed your legs, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were closely scrutinizing him the entire night, you wouldn’t have noticed the subtle squeeze he gave your thigh.

The entrees had slowly arrived at the table, and small talk kept the four of you busy throughout the rest of the dinner. Before you’d known it, Connor had already paid the bill, and his parents had bid you farewell as you two stood outside the restaurant, his arm around your waist once again with his hand gently resting at your hip.

“That went better than I expected,” he commented as they faded into the distance.

“I think it went wonderfully,” you beamed.

Walking out of his embrace, you pulled on his hand and led him down the block.

“Hey, we parked over there!”

Rolling your eyes, you kept a firm grip on him as you weaved through the crowds of people walking the streets. If you remembered right, it was only two blocks away from where you were at. You hoped that there was enough time and breathed an air of relief as you saw that they were still open, and you hurriedly made your way over with the boy in tow.

“Two for the new Marvel movie?” you requested from the attendant. “The date night special?”

His head turned towards you, and you swore you saw his eyes light up. You paid for the tickets and walked into the building with a more-than-eager Connor beside you. Standing in line for the concessions, you felt him give your hand a small tug.

“What’s the date night special?” he asked.

“Couples get like a small popcorn, a box of candy, and a large drink to share for about half the price,” you answered. “It’s actually a really good deal.”

“But I feel kinda guilty,” he commented.

“Why?”

“I was supposed to see this with Nuge.”

“You pretend to date me, so I’m pretty sure you can pretend it’s your first time seeing this when you go out with him.”

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Will there be a part 2 to your last imagine? It was beautiful and I'd love to read more ❤

Yes! I’m in the midst of writing the part two for the Brady story, and I’m close to posting the part two for the Connor story. 🤗

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we’re made of glass, we’d never last

player: brady skjei | new york rangers word count: 1, 148 warnings: angst, fighting, drinking, mild swearing summary: he’s not ready to settle down for a real relationship, and you question just how loyal he can be. music: tumblr girls by g-eazy author’s note: i’m hella buzzed don’t know why i’m writing this cos brady skjei is a wonderful man and could never do wrong. i’m going to hell

It always took everything in you to make sure that green little monster wouldn’t creep upside your back, yet you always saw it rearing its ugly head from the corner of your eyes. It couldn’t be helped no matter how many times you tried convincing yourself what the point of the relationship was without trust, and you constantly found yourself nearly glaring a hole into your phone scrolling through Instagram and Twitter. Heaving a sigh, you threw the device across the couch in an attempt to ignore everything for the umpteenth time that evening.

Things weren’t always like this. In the beginning, he was cautious of his surroundings when he was out in the public eye and stood wary of girls surrounding him. He kept his distance and never lingered too long for comfort, to your satisfaction. In a time before, he relished every moment he could spend with you, and it made you feel somewhat guilty whenever he’d drop plans he had with teammates just for you. Nowadays, you could only hear half-assed excuses that you didn’t really question.

‘Don’t worry, babe.’

‘You’re my one and only.’

‘They don’t matter to me.’

Downing the rest of your bottle of beer, you wanted to curse yourself at the low tolerance you had as you felt yourself getting a little tipsy already. Your face was getting hot, and as bad as you wanted to peel off your hoodie, you were too busy stewing in your own displeasure to think coherently.

The sound of keys in the door made your ears perk, and the anger pooling in your stomach was beginning to grow as you felt the oncoming feud ready to ensue. His footsteps gave way to his location as you heard him throw his bag by the doorway and make his way over to you on the couch. Your back was to him as you continued watching whatever it was that you had playing for the last couple of hours, and you didn’t bother turning your head to look at him as he wrapped an arm around you from behind the couch.

“I’m home,” he mumbled into the crown of your head.

“You reek of perfume,” you quietly commented.

“Just some fans wanting to take pictures with us, y’know?”

“Yeah…”

In the earlier stages of this, his usual excuse was that it was probably yours, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d actually put any on since you had started dating him. You felt him move to stand up from his position to walk away, letting his hand linger on your shoulder to give it a small squeeze, but as his eyes scanned over the coffee table, you noticed him suck in a breath at the sight of the bottles sitting there. It was rare for you to drink, and you only did so in the most stressful moments of your life; not that he knew that.

Since the whole ordeal had started, the two of you had grown more and more distant. You gave him the space he needed, and as you did, he started to stray further away from you until you both had reached the point you were presently at.

It was a reiterated fight. You two had always managed to use the same words against each other, but the subject varied depending on the situation.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be around other girls so much.”

“What are you saying? It’s just part of my job!”

“It’s not your job to be leading them on.”

“Leading them on?! I’m not leading anyone on!”

This time, through the liquid confidence building up inside of yourself, you said something different from any other fight the two of you have had before.

“I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t treat me like a priority. I want someone to love me with all of their heart, not just when it’s convenient for them.”

It was quiet for an ungodly amount of time as you noticed his demeanor instantly change. His glare had softened, and his shoulders had relaxed.

“You’re drunk,” he insisted. “You don’t know what you’re saying…”

Your lips were pressed into a firm line as he stared at you, brows furrowing in either anger or confusion, maybe even both. His patience was wearing thinner with each agonizing second, and the same could’ve gone for you as well.

“A drunk mind speaks sober thoughts…”

His jaw was clenched, and for a moment, you felt your heart soften in guilt at the sight of just how frustrated he was to come home after a loss to a fight with you again. However you knew that you had to stand your ground if you really did want things to change, and the same routine of smelling other girls and picturing them while he fucked you was getting too old for your taste at this point.

“I’m going out,” you grumbled.

“Out where?” he demanded, concern in the undertone of his voice.

Ignoring his question, you slipped on your shoes and left. You figured that maybe you just needed some cold air to cool down and sober up. Sighing to yourself, you decided to walk a few blocks before coming back and apologizing. As upset as you were with yourself for so easily deciding to give in, you scolded yourself for being too harsh with him in the first place.

As you drunkenly wandered the streets, your mind was becoming overrun by intrusive thoughts. His actions were finally adding up, and although you didn’t make the accusation, you regretted not saying anything at the time. The late nights at the rink, celebrations at his teammate’s house after games, and early morning practices were starting to cloud your judgment. It was utterly stupid to think you could’ve ever been the only flower in his garden. You could feel yourself becoming livid as your imagination ran wild at thoughts of his arms wrapped around someone who wasn’t you, pulling her flush against him as his lips trailed down her neck…

Kneeling over in the grass, you could feel your beers coming back up as you heaved them onto the ground. Wiping the remainder off your lips, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and attempted to dial a friend to come pick you up, and as you sat there waiting, you looked back at all the mistakes of your relationship and why it didn’t work.

Maybe it was the best for you and him after all. He wasn’t ready to settle, and you weren’t going to wait around to wait for him to change. Perhaps the space wasn’t enough and that you met him too soon. It was difficult to tell whether or not the bad was worth the good, but one thing you knew for sure: if it was meant to be, you’d find your way back to him eventually.

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the roommate (part one)

player: connor mcdavid | edmonton oilers word count: 476 warnings: none summary: connor asks his best friend to move in with him to convince his parents that the two of you are dating, but the line between friendship and relationship starts to blur. author’s note: omfg, please be gentle with critiquing me. i haven’t written in so long, and i’m just trying to get back into the writing scene. how long is this story gonna be? idk we’ll see. this first chapter’s pretty short but please bear with me.

beginning | part two 

“So I kind of need your help…”

“My help?” you asked, fingering the rim of your coffee cup. “Do you need money or something?”

Connor was the last person you’d ever think to ask for help from someone. You’d always known him as quite the independent individual, and it seemed a little suspicious that he would ask this of you out of nowhere. It was foolish to assume he needed help with money considering how well-known his salary was to everyone.

Focusing on his body language, you noticed him fidgeting with his cup of coffee, eyes darting back and forth in the small cafe, and how he nervously bit his lip. He was always cool, calm, and collected, so it was beyond out of the ordinary to see him anxious in that manner.

“My parents have been on me lately about relationships,” he started, “but I’m just too busy with work to even think about dating right now.”

“Why are your parents bothering you about dating?” you questioned.

“I’m twenty-one years old, and I haven’t even contemplated dating since graduating high school. Could you blame them for being a little worried?”

You chuckled alongside him before shaking your head.

“I’ve spent my life being too busy to settle down just yet,” he continued. “Like I can see it in my future… just not the near future.”

“So why don’t you tell your parents that you just aren’t interested in dating?” you asked.

“They’re pretty traditional. Like I said, I’ve never had a significant other, and they’re worried that I want to spend the rest of my life single. They’re over-exaggerating on that last part, but you know I’d never say that to either of my parents.”

You felt somewhat comfortable that he’d approach you of all people for this sort of matter, and in a sort of way, it felt good to know that you were the first person for him to turn to for help. After all, you’d only known him for the several months you two had been working together, but somehow, you had managed to hit it off right away with him. Within the first couple weeks of working there, he was already asking to hang out with you outside of work. Most the time, you either went out to eat, see a movie, or visit the comic book store for a good read or the newest issue.

“If you’re enjoying life the way you are, they shouldn’t be upset,” you said. “In fact, they should be happy that you’re where you want to be.”

“But I guess that’s just the thing about my parents,” he chuckled. “Their definition of happiness isn’t like mine.”

It was a long pause before he finally popped the question to you, and never would you ever be prepared for it.

“Do you wanna move in with me?”