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fredswrite · 2 months ago

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A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEEPAW HAYDEN!! Omg he’s turning 44 can’t believe it. So this is part 1 of this little fics I’m making for his bday. Part 1 is cute fluff and part 2 is slightttt smut.

WC: 1.2k

SUMMARY: Celebrating your husband birthday with a surprise party was something your daughter loved doing. // Reader is in her 30’s and for the sake of it the daughter doesn’t have a name.

MLST // PART2

BIRTHDAY PARTY

Hayden was always a "Birthdays aren’t important" guy. So when your 8-year-old daughter told you she wanted to do something for her father, who could have told her no?

It started with subtitles question now and then coming from the two most important women in his life.

"What is your favorite color?"

"What is your favorite sport?"

"Chocolate or Vanilla?"

You figured out how to get the answer by the giggle of your daughter. And as the little spy that she was, she got everything noted down in the notebook you gave her a few months ago.

So when Hayden was out to buy farm groceries, she sat down on your lap and began reciting all the important details she wanted to put on the party.

"Daddy likes blue, hockey and vanilla!" She explained with excitement.

"Do you know what hockey team? We could buy him a hat if you’d like?" You already knew the answer, your husband only ever had one team on his mind, the one he grew up in.

"Maple leaf!" She said all smiling. "Can we go now?"

"He’s going to come back soon. We can go buy everything tomorrow after school if you’d like." You chuckled, softly drawing patterns in her hair.

She quickly agreed and ranted about her days and the work she had to do. From the math homework to her friend breaking an arm, you looked at her face, the same one you fell in love with.

When the door opened, she shushed her voice and ran to the entryway, waiting for her father.

"Daddy!" She exclaimed and jumped in a hug. Hayden let the bags down to catch her up.

Her smaller arms wrapped around his chest while he supported her waist, she wasn’t 3 anymore and he wasn’t 20 either.

"Hey love, how was your day?" He groaned softly as he pulled her down again. He smiled softly at you in the living room when he spotted you.

"It was good, work was great."

He walked to the chair you were sitting on, enveloping your lips in a tender kiss as you raised your head toward him.

"I bought food for the pigs and fertilizer." Hayden added, going after the bags he left in front of the door. He then took them to the garage that lead outside.

Once he came back, you were already getting the ingredients out for a home taco night. Tortillas, minced steak, cheese, tomato, lettuce, pepper and onion.

He wrapped his hand from behind you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, giving you gentle kisses.

"You might need to help her, I don’t think her math assignments are gonna do themselves alone."

He let out one of his usual deep chuckles; "Yeah, I’ll do that."

So here you two where, going from one shop to another to get him the best gifts. To make sure you didn’t forget anything, you had a list with everything you were planning to buy.

• A Toronto Maple Leaf cap.

• A big blue cake written on it "Happy Birthday Daddy."

• Different types of spices for meat seasoning.

• A gift card for his favorite golf shop.

• A new watch.

• Blue and white balloon.

• Bright coloring pen mostly for your daughter

(And a red lingerie set you wouldn’t buy with her around.)

After what seemed like hours of research, you both found everything you wanted. Lucky you, Hayden was out for a Comicon in the state, which gave you two days to prepare before he came back.

Your child had it all planned, you would hide when you heard the sound of the door opening and scream "Surprise!" when he walked inside the living room with the gifts displayed and the balloon holding onto it.

"Not this one mom! This one!" She pointed to another shade of blue as she drew the card for Hayden. A truly beautiful drawing of the house they lived in with leaves in the bottom.

"See now the sky is different than from the lake." She smiled proudly at her work, she was quite talented for an eight-year-old.

"I see honey." A grain displayed on your face as you wrapped different gifts in a again blue and gray paper wrapper.

"Do you want to sign too?" She questioned, raising the handmade card to your face. Her little eyes sparkled with joy and excitement.

You opened the letter and wrote a little sentence under her lovely paragraph. "Another year of love with you, couldn’t be more grateful. Happy birthday, I love you Hay xx."

You let go of the gifts when you heard your phone ringing with a notification. Taking it out of your pocket, you noticed it came from the man himself.

Hey love, how are you two doing?

You smiled as you read. You could never get rid of his sweet gesture.

Doing great, missing you though :)

Three small dots appeared as you waited for his text.

I’ll be back soon xx

"Mom, what are you doing?" A little voice stirred you back to reality. You showed her the text before asking playfully;

"Do you want to send Daddy a pic? Make a grimace."

You both stuck your tongues out, before laughing at the result. Clicking on the sent button in the bottom corner, It wasn’t long before you could read at the bottom of the screen that he saved it to his phone and replied with a smiling emoji.

Two days later, a cake was in the living room, gifts and balloons were all over the place, and all that was missing was your husband. You couldn’t deny it; you were just as excited as your child was.

She was jumping all over the house, stumbling on her feet as she waited for Hayden to cross the door. Every five minutes, she would ask you when was he getting there.

"Be patient honey, you don’t wanna ruin the surprise before he even gets here." You giggled, and she responded with a groan.

Barely fifty minutes later, you heard his car pull up in the entry. It was your cue to go to your hiding spot. Step by step, he got closer to you, until he reached the door and opened it gently. He knew you were in since the door was unlocked.

"I’m home!" He said, hoping to hear the familiar voices he loved, but he heard nothing.

"Someone’s here?" He questioned again, no responses. He would lie if he said he wasn't worried.

But all the worries of the world disappeared when he saw the blue decorations and heard both of your voices yell surprise in unison.

"Happy birthday Daddy!" As usual, she ran to his arms with the brightest smile on her face. She hugged him hard enough to make up for the two days he spent without her.

Once he let go of her, you made your way to him, enveloping him in your warm embrace.

"Happy birthday honey."

He kissed you, his hand rubbing gently at your cheeks. "Thank you love." He mumbled in your ear.

Your loving moment was stopped by a hand gripping your two hands apart. "Dad! Come open your presents, mine first!!"

And with that, he opened the cards followed by the maple leaf cap you bought in her name. He smiled before putting it on.

"Wow, that’s so cool. But you know you’re my best birthday present." He gently tapped on her nose with a grin.

And your heart melted at the sight of the two most beautiful people in your world.

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lpptherapy667 · 1 year ago

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mypeterwilliam · 2 years ago

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cosmicstxrdust · 5 years ago

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I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 3,597

You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down I'm gonna stand my ground Won't be turned around And I'll keep this world from dragging me down

1 | 2 |

Pt. 1- 10 Days Until Apocalypse I, 2019

Lola Gimbel was a very peculiar child and it wasn’t because she was one of the forty-three children born on that fateful day in 1989. Instead, she was strange because at the ripe young age of fifteen, she had already started her autobiography. It wasn’t that she was famous and needed her life written down, or that she was planning on dying anytime soon; on the contrary, she planned to live a long and fruitful life.

(One must be careful with what they wish for.)

Instead, her inspiration came from an eleven-year-old girl who’d lived over seventy years ago in a fictional work called The Book Thief. Lola admired Liesel’s perseverance and survival skills during war-torn times and the romantic part of her wanted someone like Rudy to stay by her side. This created the urge to pen down her own life story, first by asking her family members about the early years beyond memory until she could rely on her own.

Then, she spent many, many nights hidden in her basement writing by the aid of flickering candlelight. Of course, she didn’t need to use such old-fashioned ways, but the atmosphere helped set the mood and was a replica of how her book-hero wrote. Unfortunately, Lola didn’t think she had anything interesting to write even in the two and a half notebooks and counting. So far, she had:

My name is Lola Gimbel and I was born August 1, 2004. My family consists of my mother, Diana Gimbel, my father, Edmund Gimbel and my uncle, Edward Gimbel. I go to the local public high school in downtown Toronto, Canada. My father and uncle own a department store downtown called Gimbel’s Brothers. (An original name, I know. Don’t tell them I said that.) This is where I spend most of my free time after school. My mother works long hours as a nurse and apparently, I can’t be trusted enough to stay home alone after burning eggs one morning.

I’m getting ahead of myself; I was born in Toronto General Hospital at 9:15 a.m. According to my birth certificate, I weighed five pounds, five ounces. Tiny, I know! My mother was in labor for almost nine hours and when I finally arrived, she named me Delores. I hate my name because it sounds so old fashioned and it means sadness. I’d like to think I was a gift to my parents, but maybe not? and I know they love me, so instead of telling them that, I call myself Lola, which is better. It’s still a derivative of Delores, after all. As for appearances, I have shoulder-length brown hair with mid-length bangs and blue eyes.

The writing continued on for pages and pages, detailing everything she could- and couldn’t-remember from her life. There was one thing that she did not include, however, as it would give her parents a heart attack: the mansion the next block over, home of the long-forgotten Umbrella Academy, housed the biggest library she’d ever seen, and she stole books from it.

Three Years Ago

It had really been a coincidence that she’d taken any interest in the building at all. While it was the biggest thing in the city practically, the old man who lived there was an eccentric recluse who never left the house. And, despite it’s past grandeur, the once-grand entrance had faded with time and memory. Even those who’d grown up in the golden years of The Umbrella Academy had let their passions for the group of crime-fighting children go by the wayside as they grew up, leaving the large house to sit without audience for years on end.

Still, that didn’t stop some interested passers-by from peering in occasionally and Lola was among them. One night, she’d been passing by on her way home from a late-night walk and had travelled by the house on her way home. She’d passed by the house hundreds of times before, but that night she’d seen something. Or, someone. A slightly stooped figure had lingered in the window until they’d sensed they were being watched and had disappeared.

Since then, curiosity had plagued her to go check it out. Maybe, just maybe, she’d have something interesting to add to her life’s story. Her mother would cluck her tongue and say curiosity killed the cat, but her Uncle Edward would wink at her and chime in with but satisfaction brought it back. So the next night, Lola didn’t hide in the basement. Instead, she donned all-black clothes and crept to the house.

She’d never broken in anywhere but she had an inventive, quick mind and could almost always come up with a solution. The first-floor windows and doors had been locked and secure but after a few, terrifying minutes of climbing- luckily, the old stone had great places to cling on to- she’d reached the second level. Despite the ache in her fingers from grasping the side of the building, Lola had pressed on, hoping for luck, which arrived in the form of a second-story window being unlocked.

The brunette pushed it open carefully and dropped in, keeping low. A young girl would hardly trigger any alarms, but she wanted to be cautious anyway. The room she’d landed in was dark and with only the faint filter of light from the street lamps, she made her way into the hallway. A part of her hoped to find the figure she’d seen, but the other part- the larger part- hoped she wouldn’t meet anyone.

Despite the age of the house, the floorboards were in excellent condition and made no sound as she walked down the hallway. After trying a few doors to find them all barred, Lola hesitated at the back staircase. She should really stay on the floor with the escape, but something was encouraging her exploration upward, so she climbed.

There, at the end of the hallway, stood two large, double doors. Her anticipation heightened and it took everything in her not to sprint towards them. Instead, Lola continued at the same pace and, with bated breath, tried the handle. To her surprise, the door swung open immediately. The room was dark but her eyes had gotten used to the lack of light by now and she could make out towering, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. She gave a squeak of excitement. Books! Now she could really be like Liesel Meminger!

Sure, there were libraries, but this was so much better. Her feet moved quickly, closing the distance between the door and the books. She ran her hands enthusiastically along the spines of the volumes, unable to read their titles due to the dim light. Which one should she take first?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was outside the door. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but the air suddenly felt… charged.

Quickly, she pulled one volume off the shelf and close to her chest. At the same time, a shadow appeared in the open crack of the door.

Oh no, oh no, oh no- Lola shook her head furiously, clutching the book. Panicking wouldn’t help. The room was dark enough that whoever it was probably hadn’t seen her, so she could still get away. Her eyes darted around the mostly open space.

There was a couch with side tables, a working desk, library nick-nacks and- aha! she thought triumphantly, soundlessly making her way to the window.

The figure in the door entered the room, peering cautiously around before backing out again, closing the door with a sharp click!

Lola, from her hiding place in the curtain, let out a relieved breath. She took this as her queue to leave, exiting with her prize out the same window she’d come in. While she was triumphant in her first heist, her mind was whirring. The figure had been obscured by darkness, but the outline had been clearer than when she’d seen them in the window- that, she was sure of- and it seemed like the person wasn’t actually a person at all, but a- monkey.

9 Days Until Apocalypse I, 2019

After school hours usually found Lola en route to her father’s department store where she would spend time until closing working on homework or hanging out with the staff that was on break. While the back room wasn’t the most ideal place for studying, she’d become used to the constant comings and goings and the noise that came with the workers.

Now, she was sitting at a table in the cluttered space at the back of the store working on her math homework while the daily news played on a small, old-fashioned TV hung up in the corner of the large room. Three of the staff members, Sam, Eric and Brittany were sitting at the table with her. The first of the workers’ attention was fixed on the small TV while the second two where scrolling through an app on their phones looking as bored as Lola felt as she completed her assignment.

With a loud sigh, she looked up at the trio hopefully, “do you guys want to see a magic trick?”

Brittany rolled her dark eyes, “what, are you gonna pull a quarter from my ear?”

Lola grinned, “nope!” she said cheerfully, shifting slightly in her seat to pull out a deck of cards from the back pocket of her jeans.

Sam huffed, “are you going to do the ‘pick a card, any card?’ schtick?”

“You guys have no faith in me,” the brunette complained, pulling the cards from the container and proceeding to shuffle them, “I’ve been practicing.”

Eric sighed, “fine, I’ll bite. Hold ‘em out.”

Discreetly, the brunette flipped the bottom card of the deck over and then fanned them out to the other teen, careful not to let the different card show, “alright, pick a card, any card,” she said this part sarcastically with an eye roll towards Sam.

The blonde boy reached forward and pulled out the card he wanted.

“Show it to everyone but not me,” she commanded, “make sure you remember it.”

“Aye aye, Cap,” Eric said, flipping the card to reveal his choice.

While he did so, she flipped the deck casually in her hands, feigning nonchalance. She took it back from him, placing it carefully in the middle of the deck, “now, I’m going to find your card without looking.”

Lola hid the deck behind her back, flipping the top card over. At this point, even Brittany had put away her phone to watch. She revealed them again showing a face-up deck and carefully shuffled through the cards to reach the only face-down card.

Flipping it over, she showed the eight of hearts, “is this your card?”

Eric let out a low whistle, “well, I’ll be damned. You have been practicing.”

The dark-haired girl beamed happily, pleased that she’d pulled it off. The first time she’d tried this with her uncle, she’d accidentally revealed the workings of the trick as the deck slipped out of her hands.

“That’s definitely better than a quarter,” Brittany said begrudgingly.

Before anyone else could say something though, the jingle of the breaking news broke through the work room.

“This just in! Moments ago, police reported the death of the eccentric billionaire, Reginald Hargreeves. More on this story after the break.”

Sam’s head snapped towards the TV, “Hargreeves- that name sounds familiar.”

“That’s because he ran that Umbrella thing, idiot,” Brittany said with an eye roll, “they were all the rage during the early 2000s. My brother went nuts over them.”

“The Umbrella thing?” Lola questioned, curious.

“Oh yeah,” the older girl said, “there was this group of crime-fighting children that was run by Hargreeves. They became famous after stopping a bank robbery but they went downhill after one of their members went missing. Tommy was heartbroken.”

“Went missing?” Lola asked, “as in kidnapped?”

Brittany shrugged, “no one knows what happened to him. Hargreeves isn’t exactly an open book, either. There were several unsolved documentaries but they flopped since there’s not a ton of information. You can look it up if you wanna to know more. Personally, I was more of a Disney fan.”

“Of course you were,” Sam said in amusement.

The dark-haired girl glared at him, “what’s that supposed to mean, moron?”

The blue-eyed boy shrugged, “just that it’s a girly thing.”

Lola rolled her eyes as Brittany shot something back at the boy, tuning them out as the attention shifted away from her. She made a mental note to research The Umbrella thing, as the other girl had said. Standing, she stretched and made her way into the main area of the store to take a break.

Despite all the time she spent in here, Lola didn’t think she’d ever tire of looking at the constant rotation of styles and colors. Her favorite thing to do was run her hands along the racks, feeling the shifts between soft, scratchy, wooly and a hundred other different cloths.

Her favorite section was the formal wear for the vast amount of sparkly dresses that her father decided to sell. She particularly liked the sequins because of the shine they gave off and the unique texture that passed under her fingertips. While she wouldn’t necessarily consider herself a girly-girl, she did appreciate a nice dress and the occasional accessory, even owning-and wearing- an assortment of hats and dressy items containing her favorite material.

This was the section she made her way over to now, immediately reaching her hand out to touch the slightly-rough, slightly-smooth fabric of a long, strapless dress covered in a layer of silver-and-gold sequins.

She jumped when a gentle, warm hand came to rest on her shoulder, “hey, Sequins.”

Lola rolled her eyes, “Uncle Ed, I thought I told you I hated that nickname?”

Her uncle smiled goofily at her, “what, I can’t call you something that you love?”

She huffed, “it’s dumb.”

“That’s what your mother said when you wanted to go by Lola but you did it anyway.”

“Ouch, I think I need ointment for that burn.”

The man laughed loudly, attracting some stares from other customers. They both ignored it, Lola being used to her uncle’s easy, hearty laughter, “I thought she was going to have a conniption when you told her.”

Lola’s face warmed, “are you ever going to let me live that down?”

He gave her a bright smile, “no way, Dolores.”

The brunette gave him a half-irritated, half-playful glare, “please, Uncle Ed.”

8 Days Until Apocalypse I, 2019

That evening before dinner, Lola sat herself down at the computer in her room and typed in the first part of a search inquiry: The Umbrella and then Google helpfully suggested the rest: Academy.

Clicking on the first result, her blue eyes widened in shock as an image appeared on the screen. The building she stole books from almost every night was home to heroes. Good god, what if she’d been caught? She would be dead for sure. She thanked her lucky stars that she’d only met the slightly-stooped figure a handful of times and had never spoken to anyone.

She scrolled further down to read about The Umbrella Academy.

On October 1, 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth simultaneously, despite none of them showing any sign of pregnancy until labor began. Seven of the children are adopted by eccentric billionaire Sir Reginald Hargreeves and turned into a superhero team that he calls "The Umbrella Academy." Hargreeves gives the children numbers rather than names, but the public gives them codenames. Spaceboy, Kraken, Rumor, Séance, The Boy and Horror. While putting six of his children to work fighting crime, Reginald keeps the seventh apart from her siblings' activities, as she supposedly demonstrates no powers of her own.

Intrigued, she clicked on a few more links that showed poor-quality pictures of six kids in domino masks and black uniforms after complete missions. Sometimes they’re covered in blood, sometimes they’re not. The group visibly diminishes in number after 2002, a few years before she was born. Then, when they’re in their teens, it shrinks again before all articles about the group cease to exist.

Frowning, Lola then typed in Reginald Hargreeves. There are, unsurprisingly, few articles about the man himself. There were a few about his notable achievements including his knighting and entrepreneurship but most involved The Umbrella Academy. There was even audio recording of one of the few interviews he’d done, showing the man standing outside of a bank as he introduced the group to the world.

“Our world is changing. Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. I have adopted six such children. I give you the inaugural class of The Umbrella Academy!”

Abilities beyond the extraordinary? Lola thought, weren’t they just regular crime-fighting children? She snorted at that. There was no such thing as regular crime-fighting children. She entered her next search: Umbrella Academy superpowers.

Many articles were speculations of the full extent of the powers the children possessed, what-if questions and potential side effects or results of their use. She did learn, though, that the six powers were as followed: super strength, super accuracy, altering reality, ghost summoning, teleportation and time travel and summoning inter-dimensional beings. Lola could barely believe what she was reading. Children like this existed? And here she was, writing down her autobiography like she was someone important!

She shook her head, forcing her jealousy to dissolve. The media tended to sugarcoat everything; these kids probably didn’t have a very fun life if they were constantly on the job. And besides, of course she was important, she had time to do something noteworthy. Still, it felt like she’d entered an alternate universe and couldn’t believe she hadn’t been aware people with super powers even existed.

A part of her wanted to stop searching then and there with how muddled her mind was currently feeling but an almost morbid curiosity forced her to continue. As her final search of the night, she typed in The Boy disappearance.

Here, even less credible evidence popped up and she sifted through what she found until she had enough of a framework for a story. Apparently, he disappeared on November 10th, 2002 and his adoptive father proclaimed him dead. There were several conspiracy theories but nothing concrete, causing her to eventually give up on finding information. There was more to be found on the other siblings, she knew, but her curiosity had been satiated and she had other things to do tonight.

Standing from her desk, she went to her bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out the two hardcover books she’d hidden in there. Tonight, she’d return them to The Umbrella Academy’s library- that was hard to believe- and get two more. Placing them in her bag, she wondered about the lack of security for such an at-risk family, but she’d seen pictures of Hargreeves; he was old, and despite being incredibly smart, he probably had difficulty with technology like any older person. It wouldn’t matter much now that he was dead, though.

Turning her feet towards the door to head downstairs for dinner, she wondered if the stooped figure she’d seen had been Hargreeves before quickly discarding the thought. While the man had appeared old, he’d always stood straight and proud, never bent with age.

During dinner, she let her parents and uncle talk around her while she puzzled over the mysterious Umbrella Academy. They seemed to have a fairly large fanbase in their youth, but all information on them was practically made up or guessed. Lola had always liked puzzles.

Finally, towards the end of dinner, she broke her silence, “mom?”

Diana turned towards her daughter, pushing back her short, brown hair behind her ear, “yes, Dolores?”

The younger girl winced. Her mother insisted on using her formal name, “do you know anything about The Umbrella Academy?”

Now she had both of her parent’s attention as Edmund cut off the conversation with his brother, “The Umbrella Academy?”

Lola nodded, “the superhero children of Reginald Hargreeves?”

Her mother shook her head, “a bit after my time, dear.”

The brunette girl rolled her eyes, “you’re not that old, Mom.”

Diana shot her a look, “I never said I was old, just that I didn’t know them.”

She grumbled under her breath, crossing her arms and pouting. She’d only been trying to give a compliment. Unfortunately, the dark-haired woman leaned over and gave her daughter a firm smack on the back of her head, “don’t grumble, Dolores. You sound like a caveman.”

There was just no winning with her. Thankfully, her Uncle Edmund came to the rescue by changing the subject, “any progress on your autobiography, Sequins?” he asked with an amused twinkle in his hazel eyes.

The brunette sighed and uncrossed her arms, using one of her hands to push her hair away from her face, “I don’t know what’s even the point anymore,” she complained, “especially with super-powered kids who are more interesting than me.”

Her father gave her a fond look, “you’re just as important as they are, don’t think that you’re not. And besides, this Umbrella talk reminds me- one of the children of the Academy published an autobiography a few years back, you might want to take a look at it.”

She shot him a surprised look, “really? Exposing superhero secrets?”

He shrugged, “I’m not sure of the extent of what’s written, but it’s probably worth taking a look, right?”

She chewed her lip in thought for a moment before nodding, “okay, thanks Dad.”

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woah-were-halfway-there · 6 years ago

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The Most Stressful Time of the Year.

A/N: Just a little something I thought up over these past few days that is pure fluff. (And my first hockey player one shot, yikes, so please be nice) Hope you enjoy 😊.

Word Count: 2.1k

“Aus, hey.”

Although your boyfriend was partially aware that he was being called, he was too focused on his phone to even bother giving whoever was talking to him any attention.

“Auston?”

His brows furrowed as he read through his text conversations with you. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The two of you were talking about a possible date to the Toronto Christmas Market in the upcoming weeks before you wished him luck, and he had to put his phone away to get ready for the game in Philly.

It was a tough loss against the Flyers, and the entire team was in pretty low spirits because of it, but what threw Auston off, even more, was how when they were getting ready to leave the arena, and he finally looked at his phone again, there wasn’t a single notification from you.

He was almost positive it was nothing, but he’d grown accustomed to having at least one message from you as soon as he got off the ice. It was your thing. After every game, you would always say how proud you were and how much you loved him, regardless of the score. Auston appreciated it immensely, and although he had grown so used to such a small yet meaningful action, it still made the butterflies in his stomach flutter with affection. So, to not see a message from you after a game; made him worry a little bit.

You were in the midst of exam season at uni and up to your ears in homework, which was why you didn’t tag along for the trip to Philadelphia in the first place so that you could attend the game in Toronto the following night; maybe go to the Raptors game the night after. Before the game, you told Auston that you’d be up late finishing your assignments and would meet him at Pearson just like you usually did. What you didn’t tell him though, was just how exhausted you were with everything going on in life at the moment. Although he did ask you how you were doing on multiple occasions earlier in the day, you insisted that you were fine and made sure to not show how tired you were during a brief facetime call the two of you shared.

As soon as he dipped out of the dressing room, Auston called you. Again, it was something he always did after a game; but when he was instantly met with your voicemail… he was a bit confused. So, he sent you a text.

Auston

Heading to the airport now. Can’t wait to see you, x.

He couldn’t help but anxiously glance at his phone every time it buzzed with a new notification in hopes that it was you saying you’d gone to get a bite to eat or something. However, when the device dinged, and it wasn’t a message from you, his facial features would fall slightly, and he’d let out a sigh; gestures that didn’t go unnoticed by his teammates as they made their way through the airport terminal.

As everyone boarded the plane, Auston tried once more to call you, getting in the way of John and William as they tried to pass him in the narrow hallway. He didn’t realize at the time, but a few of the guys were watching as he began pacing and stressfully pushing his free hand through his hair once reluctantly hung up his phone after being met by your voicemail again. It was then they decided maybe someone should see what was going on.

Freddie was the one who decided to step up and ask what was up. But it still took him a few tries to actually gain his teammates’ attention.

“MATTHEWS!”

Jumping at the sudden outburst behind him, Auston was quick in whipping around to face Freddie. “Woah! What’s your deal?”

“My deal? What’s your deal? You’ve been acting weird since we left the arena. Everything alright?”

Auston sighed.

“You’re going to think it’s pathetic.”

“More pathetic than I already think you are?” Freddie quipped. “I’m kidding. Clearly, something is bothering you. What’s going on?”

With another sigh, Aus explained the situation. He said how he didn’t want to think much about it because maybe you were just busy with schoolwork, but there was also this weird feeling about it all that he couldn’t shake. What if something happened to you?

Freddie was able to see where he was coming from easily. He knew of yours and Auston’s cheesy antics, having seen it first hand since the two of you started dating, and to be completely honest, even he found it a little strange that no one could get ahold of you… especially Auston.

“That is a little weird, not going to lie.”

“I know,” your boyfriend huffed as a flight attendant came by to say they’d be departing soon and for them to please take their seats. “I’m probably overthinking it, but, ugh, I don’t even know…”

“It’s part of your routine, man,” Freddie reasoned. “You’re worried cause you’re not used to suddenly not hear from her, any of us would be if it were our girlfriend. But, we’ll be back in Toronto in a couple of hours. I’m sure she’s fine and will be there waiting to pick you up.”

“You’re right, thanks, man,” Auston replied with a smile before getting into his seat and trying to relax for the flight home.

As soon as the plane landed and he was able to turn his phone off airplane mode, Auston stared at his phone, hopefully, thinking it would light up with just one simple message from, but still nothing. His face fell immediately, growing even more anxious as he gathered his things and exited the plane.

You ended up not being at the gate waiting for him, and that made him feel even worse. Panicked even. So, he tried calling you again to make sure you were ok.

All he cared about at that point was knowing that you were safe. He couldn’t have cared less about you not picking him up or texting him after the game; right then, all he wanted to know was that nothing had happened to you, and all would be fine. But yet, he still couldn’t get an answer.

“Hey, she’s probably at home asleep or at the library studying or something,” Mitch spoke up from behind him. “I just got off the phone with Steph, she was talking to her earlier tonight. Said she was exhausted but had a lot to work to do, I’m sure she’s fine, Aus.”

I’m sure she’s fine. No matter how many times he was told that it was becoming harder for Auston to believe. However, there wasn’t much he could do while stuck at Pearson and you somewhere downtown.

“Yeah, um, I think I’ll just stop by her apartment… Don’t think she’d be at the library this late. Think I could catch a ride with you and Mo?”

“Of course, let's go.”

The three men made their way into the city as quickly as they could with the odd late-night traffic. Your apartment was a one-bedroom in the Church-Wellesley Village. It resided above a coffee shop, and even with its small size, you never complained, despite it being in a rougher part of Toronto’s downtown core when comparing it to where Auston’s fancy condo was. You found it after your first year of university as you were moving out of student residence and had stayed there since. However, after dating Auston for as long as you have, you pretty much lived with him and had plans to not renew your lease in the spring so that you could properly move in together.

But your apartment was near your school, so it made sense that you crammed yourself up there rather than at Auston’s with how early some of your exams could be, and how much you hated waking up for them. Also, that’s where you said you were when you and he talked earlier in the day.

You liked your apartment, to put it simply, and although you’d never admit it… you much preferred being at Auston’s when he was there as opposed to alone because it didn’t quite feel like home just yet.

When Morgan pulled up outside of your building, Auston was quick in grabbing his stuff and bolting. He muttered a quick thanks and goodbye to his teammates, saying he’d keep them updated, before digging the key you gave him out of his pocket so he could use it to let himself in. He made his way up the dingy staircase to the second floor and walked down to the hall to your door, taking a deep breath before opening it and hopefully seeing you on the other side.

But your apartment was dark and empty.

Auston could see indications that you were there at some point when he switched the light on, but after a quick look through the space, he determined you were definitely not there. But where could you be? It was too late for the library to be open, he was sure someone would’ve known if you’d gone to a friend from school to study… but no one knew anything. It was as if you had vanished.

He raked his mind for ideas of where you could be, and the only other place he could think of was his condo. Again, although you never admitted it, Auston knew you didn’t love being at his condo alone. He was determined to make it feel like home for you and things were definitely progressing in that direction, but you still hadn’t moved in fully and he was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to be there on your own until that happened. But he figured there was nowhere else you could possibly be, so that’s where he headed.

It was a short Uber ride from your apartment down to where his condo was, but for Auston, it seemed like ages. He didn’t make very much conversation with the driver, just the basic hellos and how are yous, all while his knee bounced anxiously and, he wished he could just get there faster.

As soon as he arrived, he was rushing through the building's front doors and to the elevators. It took dreadfully long for him to finally get to his floor before the doors opened again and, he hurried down the hallway to his unit. He was quick unlocking the door and pushing it open, before letting out an audible sigh when he was able to see inside.

You were completely passed out. Curled up on the large sectional in the living room, surrounded by various notes and textbooks with your laptop still open on the glass coffee table. The blinds on the windows were still open, showcasing the nights CN tower light show in the distance, while Sportsnet's late-night reruns of NHL highlights played on the flat-screen TV.

Auston couldn’t help but chuckle at himself over how worried he’d gotten, but also at his relieved he was just to know you were safe.

With a slight shake of his head, he dropped his things by the door, took his shoes off, and made his way over to you. He gently scooped you up off the couch bridal style, smiling as you unconsciously nuzzled into his chest, and carried you to the bedroom. He tried so hard to not wake you, but struggled in opening the door while making sure to not drop you in the process; ultimately resulting in you being jolted awake.

“Aus?” You muttered sleepily while knuckling at your eyes. “W-when did you get home? What time is it?”

“Almost 3am,” he replied with a soft smile.

“What!? I- oh my god, I thought I set an alarm to wake me up if I fell asleep. I didn’t even see the whole game.”

“Trust me, you didn’t miss much. Was worried about you though, couldn’t get ahold of you regardless of how hard I tried.”

“Oh,” you said quietly as he laid you down on the bed and tucked you in before beginning to strip down to his boxers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- oh shit, I was supposed to pick you up I-.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he chuckled as he switched off the light and crawled into the bed beside you. The loud yawn you let out as he pulled you into his chest didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he couldn't help his smile as you instinctively cuddle up against him. “I’m just glad you’re safe. Are you ready for your exam tomorrow?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Let’s get some rest then, yeah?”

“Deal,” you answered while letting your body gradually relax as you began falling sleep again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied and placed a soft peck to your forehead before holding onto you just a little bit tighter than usual, and eventually let himself drift off into a peaceful sleep as well.

#nhl imagines #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #auston matthews #nhl imagine #auston matthews imagines #auston matthews fanfiction #hockey imagines #toronto maple leafs imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #auston matthews imagine #hockey rpf #nhl rpf #nhl headcanon

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fandammit · 5 years ago

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Look how long this love can hold its breath (1/4)

Part Ben Gross character study, part slowburn adolescent romance.

*******

I’ve hoarded

your name in my mouth for months. My throat

is a beehive pitched in the river. Look!

Look how long this love can hold its breath.

-Sierra DeMulder, “Your Love Finds Its Way Back”

The first assignment of their Freshman year Honors English class is to write a letter to themselves.

“I want us to capture this very moment -- who we are, what we love, what we hate, what we want,” Mrs. Allen announces with a grand flourish, and he thinks that maybe she would be better suited for drama kids in Theatre than for neurotic, type-A students of this Honors class. “I want us to trap it in amber -- preserve it so that in four years, I can give you back those very same letters and we can marvel at who we were!”

He sneaks a glance over at Devi and can immediately see they’re both thinking the same thing -- it's ridiculous and cheesy, but they’re both willing to go along with it without any fuss.

English teachers tend to have some kind of corny getting-to-know you activity, and despite this overly sentimental first assignment, he’s only heard good things about Mrs. Allen’s class.

So, that night he loads up his printer with his 32 pound bond paper (to show that he takes this assignment seriously) and goes to work trying to capture this moment of his life in amber.

Even saying it in his head makes him want to roll his eyes (he thinks Devi must be thinking the same thing, then immediately thinks about how he can make his letter better than hers).

He knows what Mrs. Allen said -- that this isn’t really an assignment inasmuch as it is a time capsule; that it isn’t a resume, but just a friendly letter so she can get to know them.

But Ben Gross hasn’t gotten this far with his GPA and academic transcript because he’s taken teachers at face value.

He doesn’t lie -- he honestly doesn’t need to, really. His list of extracurriculars and hobbies take up nearly half a page on their own, and his write-up about his pathway to becoming a diplomat is incredibly detailed and specific.

It’s only when he gets to the final question that he hesitates.

What’s one aspect of your life that you think would make a fun movie and why? Describe it to me!

He re-reads the question, then re-reads his letter and frowns. He clearly comes across as competent and confident -- which is what he was going for -- but also a little dry. This question is obviously designed to see if he has some personality.

Which, you know, of course he does. He’s just not sure how to put that on paper so that Mrs. Allen will see that he’s a well-rounded, intelligent but not overwhelmingly dull honors student.

He thinks about writing about his Bar Mitzvah and Blake Griffin -- that would be pretty cool to see in a movie -- but a voice that sounds suspiciously like Devi’s pops into his mind and calls him lame. He thinks about the time he sat next to Drake in first class on the way to Toronto with his dad, and this time an image of Devi rolling her eyes pops into his head.

He leans back in his chair and wonders what Devi is writing about. She probably has half a dozen stories to choose from, each one more exciting and endearing than the last, and each one bursting with the kind of personality that teachers -- for the most part -- seem to find charming rather than obnoxious (which is what it is).

He’ll never admit it out loud, but even though he knows that he can be charming when he needs to be, there’s an easy charisma to Devi that he’s never been quite able to replicate.

He frowns at that thought, then scowls at the rather wide tangent his thought process has taken.

The cursor blinks at him as an idea slowly takes shape in his mind. He writes about the long rivalry between him and Devi -- the back and forth exchanges in class that became back and forth exchanges of first prize and first place and ‘best of’ certificates. The sixth grade disaster of their competing Oregon Trail projects, which almost got them both suspended and lead to a long enough truce for them to divide up any extracurricular and project they might ever take part in.

By the time he’s done with his fictional movie, it’s overtaken his letter; the answer to that one question as long as all the rest of his answers combined.

He reads over it and edits a word here and there, rearranges a couple sentences. Not to toot his own horn, but there’s now a buttload of personality in this letter in addition to proof of his competence, confidence and intelligence.

He ignores the smug-sounding voice of Devi in the back of his mind telling him that he couldn’t have done it without her.

*******

Mrs. Allen takes all their letters with a smile on her face and gathers them close to her chest.

“I can’t wait to get to know you better! Reading these letters is the best way to start my year, and in four years, you guys are going to love reading them back to yourselves.”

She turns and puts the letters in a filing cabinet, which gives him the chance to roll his eyes without her seeing.

She turns back to the class and claps her hands together.

“Now this second one -- it’s not everyone’s favorite, but I personally love it because it lets me see everyone in a different light.”

He groans inwardly, basically sure that she’s going to announce some kind of partner or group project, which he absolutely loathes. It’s way too early for someone to dull his shine in this class (or, in the case of Devi, threaten to eclipse him).

Unfortunately, the second assignment is much, much worse than a group project.

“This assignment isn’t for you,” Mrs. Allen says as she starts to hand out the assignment sheet. “It’s for your parents!”

Anxiety gnaws at the pit of his stomach the minute she says it.

“For homework, I need your a parent or guardian or uncle or aunt or grandparent to write a letter about you to me. It doesn’t really matter who specifically it is, it just should be someone who has helped raise you and shape you to become the person you are today. I give suggestions on that sheet about what I’d like them to write about, but really, those are just suggestions.” She smiles brightly at the class. “Basically, I want to see a different perspective on you. This helps me get to know you better and whoever takes care of you at the same time.”

The anxiety has eaten through his stomach and is now going to town on his liver.

“And I know that your parents are busy people, so they have until the end of the week to complete it.”

He slinks as far down in his chair without seeming disrespectful, trying to figure out a way to keep his anxiety from ravaging his lungs.

“What’s wrong, Gross,” Devi asks to the right of him. “Afraid your dad won’t be able to write anything nice about you?”

He shoots up in his chair and glares at her.

“More like I’m trying to figure out how to make sure my dad doesn’t go over the page limit because I’m so awesome.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to talk to Fabiola, as he turns his attention back to the paper on his desk.

His parents are both out of town until Friday -- his mom’s at some kind of rejuvenation spa and his father is brokering a deal with some artist named Clairo -- so he knows he won’t be able to ask either of them. It makes sense -- they’re busy and this assignment is stupid, and he should really argue about it except that Devi doesn’t seem to care about it in the slightest and has already put the assignment sheet in her binder.

Putting up a fight about it would admit to a weakness -- his only one, really -- and he’d rather drop out of the class or fail than admit that to her. Er. To anyone.

For just a moment, he considers asking Patti, who does meet all the criteria -- she is someone who’s helped raise him and shape him to be the person that he is. He dismisses the idea in the next moment, because even if she technically fits the parameters, he can only imagine the kind of pity he’d get from Mrs. Allen when she reads a letter written by his house manager. He needs Mrs. Allen to be impressed by him, not feel sorry for him.

He thinks about that letter over the next few days and finally comes up with a compromise -- he writes it himself, but from the perspective of his dad.

He then emails it to his dad, who signs it, scans it and sends it back as an attachment with an email that says Couldn’t have written better myself! You’re so smart! Love you!

He takes that as confirmation that all those things he said about himself as his dad were true, and tries to tell himself it feels just as good as if his dad had actually written them.

*******

The following Monday, he overhears Mrs. Allen tell Devi that her father’s letter was so beautiful and heartfelt that it made her cry.

He doesn’t hear what Devi says in return -- some just-right mixture of pride and genuine gratitude, he’s sure -- just turns away and pretends to rifle through his backpack.

There’s a pang in his heart that he tells himself isn’t jealousy, and an odd sense of relief when Mrs. Allen passes by his desk without saying anything at all.

*******

That assignment is the second thing he thinks about when he hears about Devi’s dad and the orchestra concert (the first thought is something that can’t be put into words -- a kind of bottomless sadness shot through with a concern he doesn’t know what to do with).

He wonders if Mrs. Allen will give that letter back to Devi. If doing so would be an unbearable kindness or an unspeakable cruelty. If Devi would even open it if she did.

Mostly he wonders if Devi is ok, and what would make her feel better.

After hours of thinking about it, he realizes he doesn’t know. It makes him feel sad -- or useless, maybe -- that even though he’s known her for almost his entire life, all he knows is how to piss her off.

He briefly thinks about deliberately tanking a test this week to make her feel better, then realizes that he:

A. Is so smart that he probably wouldn’t be able to tank a test, even if he tried.

and

B. Devi would know -- she always knows when he’s up to something -- and it would do nothing but piss her off even more.

So he studies his ass off and gets a higher grade than she does on their Biology test. Her nostrils flare when she sees the grade on his test, and for a moment he really does feel bad -- maybe he should’ve tried to tank the test after all.

But then her eyes flash with something that isn’t sadness for the first time in weeks, and he’s so absurdly happy to see it that he doesn’t even come up with an insult when she lobs one in his direction.

He tells himself it’s because having a nemesis who’s all in makes him a better student, but when she gives a full-on victory cry in class a week later because she’s beaten him on their English test by half a point, that same absurd kind of glee is back with it.

A small part of him thinks maybe he’s just happy that she’s happy, in whatever small way she can be right now. The larger part of him ignores that, and studies twice as hard for their upcoming Algebra test.

*******

He thinks about that letter again on the way home from the Model U.N. trip, as he watches her freeze the moment an ambulance comes shrieking down the street.

His mind is a jumbled mess of emotion -- anger at the way the conference ended, confusion at the way things have seemingly ended between him and Devi -- but all that fades away in a wave of concern as he sees Devi force herself to take steady breaths.

He almost wants to ask if she’s ok, but in the next moment she catches him looking at her and snaps a question, and he’s so mixed up and off-balance that he falls back on what the two of them do best -- insults and sarcasm.

It’s comfortable, but it doesn’t settle him, and for the first time (maybe not for the first time) he wishes he could be good at something that isn’t a way to hurt her.

*******

He thinks about that again when he’s sitting across the dinner table from Devi, her insults still ringing in his ears.

Now would be the perfect time to hurt her the way she hurt him, to make her as miserable as he feels right this moment.

But then he remembers that letter, thinks about the girl whose dad loved her so much that talking about her made a stranger cry, about the look of misery on her face as the ambulance went by and how awful it must feel every time she hears a siren.

He remembers the feeling of wanting to be good at something that isn’t supposed to hurt her.

So he swallows his bitterness at the way the Model UN Conference ended and swerves away from hurting her, makes some charming jokes about how good she is at diplomacy instead.

She smiles at him from across the table, and later even laughs when he tells her about his awkward pizza encounter (he won’t say it makes him feel better than he has in the last 24 hours, but something loosens in his chest at the sound of it).

It doesn’t take away the loneliness of the day completely or soothe all his disappointment, but even though the day still stings, at least he knows that he can be alright -- maybe even good -- at something more than just hurting Devi.

*******

He knows he’s had more grandma juice than is advisable when he finds himself staring at his reflection and telling himself that he didn’t throw this party just so Devi would come to his house.

It’s his birthday, he reasons, and people throw parties on their birthday. It’s what his parents wanted when they left him, and he’s nothing if not a dutiful son. Plus, he has the house for it, and the money for it, and the friends --.

Well, he’s still not drunk enough to say -- even to himself -- that he has the friends for it.

But having parties is what cool kids do on their birthdays, and even if he can admit that he isn’t one of them, he’s at least adjacent enough to cool kids to be able to emulate their behavior.

So, yeah. That’s why he threw this party -- to be cool. Not because Devi asked him about throwing one. Not because seeing Devi look at Paxton like he was a goddamn chiseled marble statue come to life in the style of Pygmalion set off a hot spark of something that felt like jealousy in the center of his chest. His throwing this party had nothing to do with Devi, at all, in any way, shape or form.

He tells himself that a half dozen times as he looks at his blurry reflection in the mirror, as he splashes his face with water in the hopes that it’ll miraculously clear his vision, as he walks down the stairs holding his fourth cup of grandma juice.

Then he sees her come through the door and it’s like his vision clears up completely (if momentarily, because apparently emotions do not supersede biology) and he feels a warmth in his veins that has nothing to do with the alcohol currently coursing through it because Devi is in his house and she actually looks genuinely happy to see him.

He takes her on a tour of the house, pointing out the memorabilia from all his dad clients, showing her the game room and the gym and the two indoor pools (one chlorinated, one a saltwater pool), and she’s complimenting it all without even the slightest bit of sarcasm and laughing at his jokes and mocking him without the usual hard edge to her and he honestly can’t remember the last time he was this happy and --

Oh, fuck.

He totally threw this entire party just to invite Devi over to his house.

#never have i ever #devi x ben #devi vishwakumar #ben gross #listen paxton is hot #and everyone is young and therefore should just date everyone #but i love me some enemies to friends to lovers I CANNOT HELP IT

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uscaacademyinternationalschool · 4 years ago

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Useful Tips for Choosing the Best Private High School for your Child

High school education is very important for your children as it sets the platform for their academic as well as professional future. Nowadays, education plays a key role in deciding what career your child will choose in the coming years. Simply sending your child to a high school next to your house or whatever is available, might work for some, but not for all. The key to help you choose the best high school in Mississauga for your child first lies in understanding what exactly is your child’s requirement. In other words, what field he/she would want to go in future. You also need to know about the various promising options available.

Most of you find it a daunting task, and therefore, need tips to choose the perfect high school in Mississauga.

Here are some great tips to help you choose the best private high school:

Weigh your available options

Nowadays, parents are not bounded to limit their options to the reputed high schools in their neighborhood. Most areas provide plethora of good school options, from public and private high schools to vocational, magnet and charter schools. It is important for parents to research all the best Mississauga private schools for high school education in the vicinity or far, depending on what career they wish to choose.

Define the need of your child

Some children excel in a structured learning surrounding, while others work better in classrooms. Look into school’s disciplinary policies and curriculum to determine whether the atmosphere or the environment would be a great fit for your child to learn. You can even consider factors like - if the school stresses on individual assignments over group projects; homework system; and discipline practices as well. Parents must find out, if the best private schools in Toronto, (they have enrolled their child in), is taking all the possible efforts to help students learn, irrespective of pupil’s background, learning styles and disabilities.

Learning options of your child

It is important to determine your child’s learning preference. Whether your child’s style of learning is auditory or visual, and whether he learns better individually or in groups. You can even talk to parents whose children are already part of the school; they can easily provide you the best review of the school’s educational system.

Examine alumni and test scores

One of the other important factors when choosing the best high school in Mississauga is test scores, although it must never be the only one. When comparing a school’s test scores, go through how well the students have performed both the bright and the weak ones. Besides, test scores, find out how successful the school’s alumni are.

Extracurricular activities

Any reputed Mississauga private school should incorporate extracurricular activities like sports, drama, sports and technology clubs. Bigger schools often have wider section of these types of activity options, but smaller ones offer specific activity your child might be looking for, and that can end up better.

If you are finding one of the best high school in Mississauga, Ontario, choose USCA Academy, it is an international private school. They excel in providing local and international students with high-quality education from experienced and professional teachers.

#Best Private Schools in Toronto #Private Schools Near me #Private School in Mississauga Ontario #IELTS Preparation Mississauga #OSSD Requirements #OUAC Canada #OUAC Application #International Schools Ontario

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elegantkingdomwizard-blog1 · 4 years ago

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spine-buster · 6 years ago

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Alone, Together | Chapter 10 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: As always, thank you for your lovely likes, reblogs, tags, and messages on the last chapter.

“Can you sit still.”

“Don’t get it on my face!”

“That’s why my other hand is on your face! So it gets on my hand instead of your face!”

“Do I at least make a hot Eugene Levy?”

Bee couldn’t help but snort at Morgan’s question. She stopped spraying the black hairspray and took her hand off his forehead to see the full picture. She had turned his hair salt and pepper – a little more emphasis on the pepper – for his Halloween costume. He was going as Johnny Rose, and she as Moira Rose, from Schitt’s Creek. It was completely at her request. Morgan had wanted to first go as Batman and Robin, and she said that was too cliché. Then he suggested Wayne Gretzky and Jari Kurri, but Bee had no idea who Jari Kurri was, so she shot down that idea too. She first suggested Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, but Morgan refused once he saw what he would have to wear. It was only then when she suggested Johnny and Moira from Schitt’s Creek, the show that they would watch together on Netflix. Morgan finally agreed. He’d practiced his facial expressions for weeks. Bee practiced Catherine O’Hara’s accent for just as long.

“At least I know you’d still look hot with dark hair,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, well, Briony,” Morgan’s voice was bashful. He brought his hands up to the back of her thighs and ended up squeezing her ass quickly. “Maybe I should follow in Dermott’s footsteps and get some purple cornrows.”

“Please don’t,” she said curtly, causing him to laugh. “Let go of my butt. I need to get hairspray and work on your eyebrows.”

“Can you get it if I don’t let go of your butt?”

Bee snorted. “No. Now hands off, Mr. Rielly.”

Briony and Morgan had two parties to go to that night. First, they were stopping by Angie and Mason’s apartment, where they were throwing a small party with a bunch of their friends – mostly Mason’s PhD program friends and their significant others. After Angie and Mason’s, they would head to the Platinum Club at Scotiabank Arena, where the boys from the Leafs had organized the team Halloween party.

They walked hand in hand through the streets of the Annex until they got to 100 Spadina Road, Angie and Mason’s apartment building. After getting buzzed in and taking the elevator up to the 10th floor, Bee helped herself into the apartment, the party already in full swing. When Angie noticed them in the doorway, she screamed in the face of whomever she was speaking with and made her way over.

“You’re heeeeeeere!” Angie squealed as she hugged Bee tightly. When she pulled away, she looked down at Bee’s outfit. “And you are…?”

“Angela, stop acting like a disgruntled pelican,” Bee said in her best impression of Moira Rose she could muster.

“Oh my God Bee!” she exclaimed. “It’s brilliant! Brilliant!” She focused her attention to Morgan, giving his costume a quick nod. “You must be Johnny, then.”

“I am,” he nodded his head. “But for the purposes of tonight, you can call me Morgan.”

“Well it’s nice to finally meet you, Morgan. Bee’s only mentioned you once or twice in the past few months,” she said sarcastically. “Come on, come in. Keep your shoes on. Let me introduce you to Mason.”

Angie dragged both of them through the apartment, bringing them to Mason, who was standing near the sliding door of the balcony talking with one of his friends. They were introduced briefly, as Mason seemed to be in deep in a serious conversation. Angie then brought them around to others, introducing them briefly. Alex and his partner Steve, who was getting his PhD in the history of the Toronto Purchase of 1787; Stacy, who was getting a PhD in the colonial history of Upper Canada, and her boyfriend Connor; Claire, who was in residency at Toronto General Hospital for neurosurgery; Gerry, doing post-doctoral research in…something? Sarah, who was getting his degree in…thermonuclear astrophysics? God, he couldn’t keep up. Morgan had never felt so inadequate in his life. He tried to understand their fields of study and he tried to understand their thesis work, but it was all going over his head. All he could do was offer a comment or two, or a quick nod of his head, and pretend to understand.

And then there was Briony. So engaged in their research, so informative and informed about what they were doing. She knew the right questions to ask. She knew how to keep the conversation going about research. She knew exactly how to handle herself and there he was, standing there like a lump beside her. All he could do was sip on his beer. He didn’t contribute anything. He didn’t have anything to contribute.

Hockey afforded him the luxury of travel; of lifelong friendships across Canada; of goals and hard work; of tenacity and determination to win; and much more. It did not afford him the luxury of schooling. It was just the way it was. They went to school but nothing was serious. He went to Notre Dame and excelled in math and science but he never thought once of pursuing it. When he moved to Moose Jaw and was placed in the local Catholic school he prayed every morning before homeroom, still excelling at math and science, but his mind was always on hockey. His homework was always done, and he always raised his hand in class to answer questions, but school wasn’t the priority. Hockey always was. Winning always was. Getting drafted always was.

Eventually Mason approached him and took him to get another beer. From their spot standing near the fridge, Morgan could hear Briony laugh and giggle while she took pictures with Angie and did her Moira Rose accent. He and Mason talked about a variety of random things, and despite Morgan knowing Mason was 150% smarter than him, he felt comfortable. They talked mostly about sports – football, the coming of Kawhi Leonard to the Raptors, and the Jays. The Leafs never came up. Morgan was partly thankful.

“So I heard you guys made it official a few weeks back,” Mason mentioned as he cracked open his third beer.

“Y-Yeah…” Morgan nodded. So they were going there. “How do you know?”

“Listen, Bee tells Angie everything,” he said. “Most things Angie then tells me, if they’re not too personal. Bee would have probably told me eventually, though.”

“Of course,” Morgan nodded again. He should have known. Angie and Bee were like glue, and they spoke in some form everyday. He should have figured Angie would be the first to know, and therefore Mason the second to know.

“Do your teammates know?” Mason asked.

With that question, Morgan knew Mason knew who he was. He appreciated that Mason wasn’t making a big deal out of it. “Yeah, they’ve met her. When she came to some of the games she met them, and then I had a few of them over for Thanksgiving,” he explained. “I actually think Enzo’s already in love with her.”

“Yeah, that’s easy with Bee. Especially if she cooked.”

“She did.”

“Well then,” Mason chuckled. “There you go.”

Morgan took a deep breath in. “So uh, what are you getting your PhD in?”

Mason gave him a look. “The Easter Rising in Ireland,” Mason responded. Morgan gave him a blank stare. “I don’t expect you to know what that is. Don’t worry.”

“Can you explain it to me?” Morgan asked.

“What?”

“Can you explain it?”

“It doesn’t exactly need to be common, everyday knowledge,” Mason countered.

Morgan sighed. “I know. But I feel like I’m the only one here who isn’t in grad school or getting a PhD,” he said, looking around awkwardly. “And to be completely honest with you, I feel…” he paused again, looking to see Briony wasn’t anywhere near him, “I feel inadequate when I talk to Briony and she brings up all the things she’s learning. I have no clue what she’s talking about but I just nod my head. I’ve tried to do research but…”

“Well if you want the gist of it, Bee’s learning how to how to invest money in various economic conditions and how to tell people where to invest their money so--”

“No no, I know that,” Morgan said. “I don’t get, like, the stuff she needs to learn before she gets there. She had this massive assignment on behavioural economics and I saw her stress over it so much and it made me feel awful that I couldn’t help her.”

Mason couldn’t help but smile. “Well, even if you could have helped her, Bee wouldn’t have asked for it…or wanted it,” he commented. “You know her by now. She’s all about independence. She’s all about making it on her own. If you had a book of all the answers, or a definitive path she could follow to get an A, she wouldn’t read it. She’d just do it herself, her way.”

Morgan nodded his head. Mason was right. As someone who knew Bee for years, as opposed to Morgan’s few months, he knew the insight Mason had into Bee was much better than his. “I know. Still makes me feel like shit though.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” Mason soothed him. “Bee doesn’t expect that from you. If she did she would have left you by now.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“Morgan, I’m being serious. She doesn’t care about how smart a person is or what level of education they have. Believe me. Because we’ve met some pretty awful and disgusting people with Master’s and PhDs,” he said. “She’s old school. She cares about character. What you value in life. Hard work. All that stuff. If you have a PhD but you’re a dick, she’s gonna tell you off faster than if you have a high school diploma but a heart of gold.”

Morgan considered what Mason had to say seriously. He knew Mason was right. If Briony didn’t like him, if she thought he was inferior or not smart enough, she would have dumped or ghosted him by now. The fact that she was still there meant something. But the anxiety was still there.

“I’m afraid she’s going to wake up one day and realize she’s too good for me,” Morgan couldn’t stop talking. He had known Mason for all of an hour and was already revealing these insecurities to him. At this point he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“She won’t do that,” Mason shook his head. “You guys seem to be in this weird sort of relationship where you think she’s too good for you, but she thinks you’re too good for her, and somehow you’re in perfect harmony.”

She thought he was too good for her? What in the world was she thinking?! Had she lost her damn mind? “She thinks what?”

Mason smiled mischievously. “You heard me. Must mean something.”

As if on cue, Morgan could feel her hand scratch up his back lightly to get his attention. He spun around to see her smiling, her cheeks flushed not by the ample amount of blush she had put on, but by the red wine she’d been drinking. “You ready to go? Ashley already texted me.”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get an Uber,” he nodded, even though what he really wanted to do was sit down over more beers with Mason and get to the bottom of what exactly Briony had told him about their relationship, or what Briony had told Angie who had then told Mason, or what Mason could have possibly overheard from a conversation between Angie and Briony about –

“Let me walk you to the door. I can’t believe you have to leave,” Angie’s voice, slightly drunk, interrupted his thoughts as she wrapped her arm around Briony’s shoulders. They walked to the apartment door together, coinciding with another couple that were just walking in.

Mason and Morgan had stayed back briefly so they were a few steps behind the girls. Mason nudged Morgan to get his attention. “Hey, is there a reason why you call her Briony all the time?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders as he began to walk. “I just like the sound of Briony. It’s a beautiful name.”

“You’re the only one, you know. If we did that she’d smack us upside the head. Must mean something.”

Morgan chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, bud.”

When Morgan and Briony arrived at the Platinum Club, Tyler, dressed in a cowboy costume, greeted them enthusiastically. He was so excited and already drunk, and he picked up Briony and swung her around. His cheeks were flushed just as much as hers, and Morgan wondered how much alcohol everyone had already consumed. He was getting there, but not quite there yet.

“How’re you doing princess?” he asked.

“Pretty good, cowboy,” she giggled as she was set down. “What’s with the costume?”

“I’m from Edmonton, duh.”

“Aren’t all the cowboys in Calgary? You should have been an oil rig.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “You’re too smart, you know that? Everyone else just believed me.”

As they made their way further into the room, Morgan could see the rest of the team and their significant others. The girls practically swarmed around Briony, and Briony – seemingly a little bit too tipsy to care about all the attention – greeted them with open arms. Soon enough, she started posing in selfies and group photos with them, and kept doing Moira’s accent. “I had just had my eyelashes dyed. Everything was cloudy!”; “A heavy salad might as well be a casserole.”; “The last time I felt this emotionally encumbered, I was playing Lady Macbeth on a Crystal Skies cruise ship during Shakespeare at Sea Week!" The girls were howling their heads off. Steph kept commenting how Briony sounded exactly like Moira. Christina Marleau had tears in her eyes. Morgan couldn’t help but look on admiringly.

“Hey! How come nobody is asking me to do my Eugene Levy impression?” Morgan joked, approaching the group of women. “I practiced for days!”

“I think we’re all a little freaked out by your eyebrows,” Steph laughed. “You sure did a number on them, Bee.”

“Besides, we all know Moira is the real star of the show,” Christina winked at him.

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, you’re right. I’m gonna go get a beer,” he said, leaving the girls alone to find where Auston got his drink.

As Morgan hung out with Auston, Jake, and Fred, the alcohol kept flowing and the jokes kept coming. After leaving Briony with the other girls, he heard her accent every now and then, and he knew it meant she was having fun. She came back briefly so they could record a video on Steph’s phone to “commemorate” the night, but beyond that, she seemed to be having the time of her life with the girls. Morgan appreciated how they were so warm and welcoming, especially Ashley and Lucy, and he knew Briony appreciated it too. As an introvert, he knew the energy it must have been taking for Briony to socialize; but at the same time, he knew the alcohol was helping. Briony could have made the executive decision to stay the entire night at Angie and Mason’s party, but the fact that she agreed to come to this one too, with his friends, meant a lot. He’d have to thank her later.

The boys eventually moved on to some shots before going for what seemed like their tenth round of whisky. Auston was giggly, as he always got when he was drunk, and kept fiddling around with his costume. Jake, for his credit, seemed completely sober, but Morgan knew he was completely shit-faced. The boy couldn’t hold his liquor. Enzo had joined them, and he was just like Jake – completely shitfaced, but somehow able to keep it together. It was team bonding experiences like this that truly brought the boys together – seeing them at their most creative, but also, if drunk, at their absolute worst.

Late into the night Lucy approached Jake. “I’m just going to go to the washroom, but we should call a taxi soon,” she told her husband.

“Yeah, cool,” he said, maintaining composure. He was swaying side to side in beat with the music that was playing out of Mitch’s phone at this point, and watched as his wife walked to the washrooms in the back of the Platinum Club. He saw Bee across the room, talking with Aryne Tavares. He tapped Morgan on the chest. “It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Morgan was confused.

“Briony. Time for Briony.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Morgan should have known better – he really should have. Jake started to move to the music more than before. Morgan knew he liked to dance, especially with Lucy, but this was a different kind of dancing, with a different kind of beat. A song Morgan couldn’t recognize was playing in the background, and Jake couldn’t help but move his hips in tune to the music. As he did so, he moved closer and closer to Briony, who ended up being backed onto one of the plush chairs scattered about the room. She was laughing until she fell into the chair – then she knew what was coming next. She was going to die mortified. A drunken Jake Gardiner was going to give her a lap dance.

Jake took a few steps back before waltzing back towards her, blowing her a quick kiss. His hips continued to move with the beat of the music before turning around, placing his hands on the armrests, and practically sitting on her lap. From where she was sitting, she could hear Auston cackling loudly as he watched. Morgan was so red from laughing so hard she thought he was going to collapse right then and there. She assumed Jake had done this to others, and that his actions weren’t what they were laughing about – what they were laughing about was the horrified look on her face.

Jake continued his movements, turning to face her before he gyrated his hips once more. He untucked his shirt from his dress pants to move better, and unbuttoned the first three buttons, leaning over to shove his chest in Bee’s face. He reached out his hand and twisted some of her wig hair around his finger before giving her a kissy face. From out of the corner of her eye, Bee saw Auston approach Jake from behind and slip a fifty-dollar bill into the waistband of his pants. Tyler followed suit, slipping a twenty.

“I’m available for hire at parties,” Jake winked at her. “You just call me.”

“I’ll be sure to do that Jake.”

“Jake? Ja…GET AWAY FROM HER!” Lucy shrieked at her husband as she saw what he was doing. She ran over to them and pulled him away from the chair, an equally as horrified look on her face as there had been on Bee’s. Everybody was still losing their minds, even more so now at Lucy’s reaction. “Ohmigodbeeiamsosorry,” she rushed to apologize before slapping her husband on the arm. “How dare you! That poor girl!”

“She was enjoying herself! Who wouldn’t?” he motioned down to his body. “It’s Magic Mike! Everybody likes Magic Mike!”

“Jake William Gardiner you are drunk!” she screamed at him as she tugged him away. “I’m sorry again, Bee!”

“It’s alright!” she giggled out, waving goodbye to Jake as he was dragged away to the washrooms.

Bee watched as Morgan and Auston wiped the tears from their eyes. She collected her thoughts and her breath, a smile appearing on her face eventually after fully realizing what had just transpired.

Steph approached her first with tears in her eyes. “Getting a lap dance from Jake is like a rite of passage,” she snickered. “We’ve all gotten one at one point. You’re one of us now. This is like your welcoming party.”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh out loud. If a drunken lap dance from her boyfriend’s best friend was what inaugurated her into a group, then so be it.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #alone together series

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scaredofthebasement-blog · 6 years ago

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When Love Walks In - Chpt 13

Auston Gets Depressed When He Can’t See Dr Quinn and Asks To Be Alone

Word Count 1073

Dr Wright has been the one overseeing Auston’s respiratory care all week. Dr Quinn has not been in to visit Auston, except for when she poked her head in his doorway to say a quick hello, one day early in the week. She only had time to tell him that she was happy to hear from Dr Wright that he was doing well. She let him know that she was keeping tabs on him but was ‘beyond busy’. She apologized in advance in case she wasn’t able to make it in again to see him before his next procedure but said she would do her best to squeeze in a visit. She encouraged him to keep resting and reminded him that he is in great hands with Dr Wright. Auston wasn’t given a chance to ask her about her date with Dr Peters as she had to run.

To say Auston is disappointed with the lack of face-to-face contact with Dr Quinn this week, would be an understatement. As each day passes, without her making it in to see him, he gets progressively frustrated.

She can’t even stop by for a couple of minutes; he pouts to himself.

Each day he waits on tenterhooks for her to visit. Most pressing in his mind is what happened on her date with Dr Peters. Every sound he hears in his doorway causes his heart to jump into his throat; looking up, his eyes beg to be satisfied with the approach of her figure. Each time he is disappointed.

The long, drawn-out days, coupled with an over-active imagination, get the best of him, day by boring day. He can’t help but leap to the conclusion, that the reason for Dr Quinn not coming to see him at all, is:

1) A demanding work schedule by day and

2) ‘That Doctor Dude’ by night.

The two are surely madly in love and making plans for their wedding; He convinces himself.

Surely she would find time to drop in to check on me and say hello at the end of her shift if she was doing nothing special. She’s seeing ‘That Doctor Dude’; He reasons in his mind, feeling sorry for himself.

If Dr Quinn would only come around to see him, he could tell her he did the homework assignment she gave him. Instead, while he’s alone, Auston falls into a funk. He does very little. He has no interest or energy for watching tv, playing video games, reading, meditating, texting or phoning anyone. He just lays in bed, focuses on breathing through his throat, and when he has a cell phone, he investigates that ‘Dr Peters Dude.’ After Auston does his research, he concludes that Dr Peters appears to be the ‘perfect catch’ and spends, what amounts to, hours upon hours, torturing himself with thoughts of how he has surely lost his chance with Dr Quinn. His only distraction comes from listening to music where he slips in and out of daydreams about what it would be like if Dr Quinn loved him back.

By the fourth day, Auston is pissed and can’t bear to be around anyone. He hasn’t the energy to pretend that he’s fine. He also can’t talk to anyone about what’s bugging him for fear of it coming back to haunt him. He wants to be left alone. He doesn’t want any visitors, including his only visitors so far, his parents and sisters who have been in and out of the hospital all week.

Auston tells his family, in a nice way that he wants them to take some time and go back home to Arizona. He insists he will be fine by himself and that all he needs is a little time alone to process everything that has happened to him. Brian and Ema are reluctant. Auston insists.

Since Alex still needs access to Auston’s phone to finish the job she is doing for him, they negotiate a compromise; Alex will stay in Toronto to help Auston, while Brian and Ema agree to go back home to Scottsdale with Bre and take care of things they put on the back-burner.

Brian and Ema inform Auston that they are going to ask Dr Quinn to get a therapist for Auston to help him navigate his emotions. But Auston insists that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now and demands they respect his wishes. They give him a hard time on the issue until he finally tells them that he has been talking with Dr Quinn and she has been helping him. He neglects to tell them that Dr Quinn has turned down his request to act as his pseudo-therapist. But he gets what he wants, which is for them to drop the matter. At this point anyways, Dr Quinn is the only person he will confide in about any issues he’s facing, whether she’s a therapist or not, which is how he justifies his white lie.

Auston also tries to relieve his guilt over his lie, by telling himself that he is at least doing some form of therapy by following Dr Quinn’s suggestion in getting Alex to look after his social media.

By the sixth day, Auston and Alex’s parents have been out of the country for two days, and Alex is getting very concerned about Auston’s mood. She makes a call to request that Dr Quinn check-in on Auston and see how he is doing, especially emotionally. Dr Quinn gets back to Alex and explains that she’s been off the hospital grounds attending a medical conference most of the week but has been checking on Auston through Dr Wright, who hadn’t mentioned any mood issues. She tells Alex that she has plans to see Auston tomorrow for the removal of the Ventilator and attachment of the Fenestrated tube.

“Alex, I’m so sorry to hear Auston’s having a hard time. I’ll be happy to talk to him after the procedure. I will try my best to help him. I’m not a therapist, but I’ll see about trying to get him any help he needs. The trick is, does he want the help?” Dr Quinn tells her.

“I understand Doctor. He’s in a bad way. He won’t talk to me. I hope he talks to you.” Alex adds.

“Me too, Alex. Me too.”

#auston matthews #auston matthews fanfiction #auston matthews imagine #fanfiction #imagine #leafs #toronto maple leafs #love story #nhl

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hockeylvr59 · 6 years ago

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Promises part 2 || Auston Matthews

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Now don’t go expecting updates this quickly ever again because it likely won’t happen. All of your kind words and comments kept my muse alive a little longer than normal though and so while this isn’t as long, and it’s mostly filler, it is a part two.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2139

You’d been awoken by Owen’s cries twice that first night, though the first, Auston had managed to gather up Owen before padding down the hall where you could hear his mom helping him through the feeding leading you to roll over and go back to sleep. The second time you’d woken up first and everyone else the apartment remained sleeping while you snuggled the infant on Auston’s couch while the baby worked on another bottle.

It was shortly before seven that you were officially woken up for the day. Thankfully it was Sunday and therefore you didn’t have classes but Owen’s wails were certainly a less pleasant alarm clock than your normal one. Heading over to the pack and place you cringed at the smell of a dirty diaper. Picking Owen up it was clear that Auston had changed the baby’s diaper last because the diaper had leaked everywhere.

“Auston…I need your help.” You directed moving to the bed to kick at his legs with your knee since both your hands were currently occupied. When he stirred he just groaned and looked at you and you rolled your eyes. “The diaper exploded. I need help getting Owen cleaned up please.”

With Auston thankfully trailing after you, you headed out to his kitchen, grabbing the towel you’d been using to change Owen yesterday and laying it out over the table. With the baby laid on top of the towel, you motioned for Auston to watch him while you washed your hands before getting a clean diaper, wipes, a new onesie, and sleeper as well as a cotton swab from the bathroom.

The look on Auston’s face signaled that he was now finally aware of the mess Owen had made and you sighed as you bumped him out of the way so that you could undress the baby boy. With the messy clothes off, you tossed them in the sink for a quick hand scrub once Owen was settled and turned back to the baby.

“Now who changed you last Owen? Huh?” You murmured to the baby in a teasing tone causing Auston to flush in embarrassment. “Oh daddy did, didn’t he. Well, he tried but we’ve still got some things to teach him, don’t we.” As quickly as you could you worked on getting the baby changed, again walking Auston through the process.

“You’ll get it, it just takes some time.” You assured him. Once Owen’s diaper was on, you grabbed the cotton swab and after running it under warm water in the sink, moved to clean around the umbilical cord. The young Maple Leafs Center looked completely confused because he obviously hadn’t paid much attention to the stub before.

“What are you doing?” He questioned as you took a soft paper towel to dry the area you had just cleaned.

“I’m cleaning his umbilical cord. You know, the thing that gave him all of his nutrients while he was growing before birth.”

“I thought they got rid of those after delivery?” His confusion was kind of cute and you smiled as you got Owen completely redressed in clean clothes.

“They cut the cord, yes, but there’s a little stub that remains until it dries out and falls off. Until then little one here just gets sponge baths to keep him clean so that we don’t cause the cord to get infected.” Auston let out a soft ‘oh’ and you kissed Owen’s head as you picked him up before attempting to hand him off to Auston. “Now go hang with dad for a few.” You declared. “Unless dad wants to clean the poop off the clothes and then make breakfast.”

With that comment, Auston was quick to take him and they headed into the living room to sit on the couch, the sounds of SportsCenter filling the living room. After quickly scrubbing the clothes as best you could, you took them to the laundry room before returning to the kitchen to wash your hands once again before starting on some breakfast for the Matthews crew.

Knowing Owen would be hungry soon, you made up a fresh batch of bottles since the last of the premade had been used during the night. When one was heated, you took it to Auston so that he could feed Owen and then retreated to the kitchen, checking your phone as you paced the space, occasionally flipping food. There was an email in your inbox and when you opened it, everything about the past 24 hours was confirmed. Quickly you forwarded it to Auston’s email so that he could send it to his agent or whoever else might need it before you moved food off of burners and went to sit next to Auston.

“I just got the DNA report email, he’s yours, Aus…” You murmured. Running his fingers through his hair, Auston nodded before resting his hand on Owen’s belly.

“Yeah, I guess I was kind of expecting you to say that. I looked at the birth certificate last night and the name is vaguely familiar I guess.” Obviously, it wasn’t someone he’d had a committed relationship with that was for certain. “I still don’t know how I’m going to manage all of this but he’s my son so...I guess I need to step up and figure it out huh.”

“That would certainly be the responsible thing to do...and the right thing.” You agreed. “You hungry? I made food and I can take him while you eat?” You offered. Instead of the agreement that you expected, Auston just shook his head and declared that you could go ahead and eat first.

The rest of that day was spent with Auston calling Leafs management to update them on the situation before he had you help him shop for things for Owen so that he could turn what was supposed to be a small office into a nursery.

With Ema Matthews sticking around Toronto to help Auston until he could hire a nanny, you returned your focus to your studies, though you made sure to check in with Auston every day and popped over to his place a few times a week. You weren’t sure why you felt like you needed to help. Auston now had everyone in his life backing him up with Owen, but for some reason, you still felt like you needed to be around.

____

It had been about two and a half weeks since Owen was found outside Auston’s apartment when your phone rang in the middle of class. You had your phone set to only ring for a limited number of people, namely Auston and his mom.

Apologizing to your professor you slipped out of the classroom and answered your phone to hear Ema muttering curses in Spanish under her breath.

“Is everything okay?” You asked softly. Auston was currently out of town so you figured that Ema was calling because she had a question or something. Instead, she declared that she needed to fly back to Arizona for a day or so because one of the girls needed her and you were the only person she could think of to stay with Owen.

Auston had been interviewing nanny’s for Owen but hadn’t found one that he felt comfortable enough with to hire. So you knew that Ema was under a lot of stress trying to help her son but also be there for both her daughters.

“How soon do you need me?” You questioned, nodding when she told you her flight time and when she had to leave for the airport. Looking at your watch you knew there were only another twenty minutes of class left and you assured her that you would stop at your apartment for a few things after class and then be over within the hour.

The next twenty minutes dragged on, this was the first time you would actually watch Owen completely solo and while you knew you could handle it, you were a bit anxious all the same.

A quick stop at your apartment allowed you to gather up some clothes and things you’d need to crash at Auston’s, it also allowed you to email your professors for the next day explaining that a friend needed an emergency baby sitter and that the baby was far too little for you to bring him to class and expose him to the germs on a college campus so you would be absent the following day.

It was as you stepped into Auston’s apartment that you finally relaxed, quickly taking Owen from Ema as she once again thanked you while she gathered up her things in order to head back to the states. She insisted that she would be back the day after tomorrow but that Auston would likely beat her since they played a doubleheader that spanned tonight and tomorrow before the team would fly home.

Once Ema left after updating you on when Owen would likely need fed and changed again, you simply laid on the couch, baby cuddled against you. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep and once he had you went to lay him down in his pretty new crib before sitting yourself at the kitchen counters to try and get a few assignments completed.

It felt easy, comfortable just taking care of Owen, working on homework and making yourself dinner. Knowing that the Leafs game would be starting soon, you turned the tv on while cradling a freshly fed Owen against your shoulder while you burped him. When you had settled him into the cradle of your arm you shot a selfie of the two of you, you just so happened to be wearing a leafs t-shirt and Owen was snuggled up in a blue and white sleeper. Attaching the picture in a text to Auston you told him to ‘kick some butt because your two biggest fans are watching.’

You were surprised when your phone rang seconds later, with Auston’s picture appearing on the screen.

“Are you in my apartment?” He questioned.

“No I just kidnapped your son, yes I’m in your apartment.” You retorted quickly becoming aware that his mother had failed to inform him that you were on baby watching duty. Or if she had, he hadn’t seen it.

“Where’s my mom?” He questioned and you bit your lip before speaking.

“She didn’t let you know that she had to go back to Arizona for something for one of your sisters? She asked me to come watch Owen until you came back?” Auston let out a shaky sigh on the other end of the phone and though you couldn’t see him you were certain he was running his fingers through his hair.

“No, she didn’t. But it’s fine. Thank you for watching him.” He breathed. You knew he was upset with his mom but he couldn’t really blame her because he was asking so much from her in putting her life on hold to help him with Owen.

“Take a deep breath, everything is fine. Just go score some goals for us.” You assured him. “I can hold down the fort for a day or so.”

“Thank you,” Auston said softly before hanging up the phone and after a moment you let your head fall back against the back of the couch.

“The things I do for your daddy.” You whispered to Owen, who stretched a little before sinking himself back into your body. “I must be comfy huh little dude, I’m much softer than both your dad and grandma.” Most of the time you hated your body but for the moment you didn’t mind it because Owen clearly felt safe and comfortable pressed against all of your curves.

The Leafs won the game that night, Auston scoring two goals, ones that you secretly hoped were him scoring for you and Owen. Though you’d hoped to hear from him, your phone remained silent as you got Owen ready for bed before settling in for the night yourself.

The following day was consumed with cleaning up Auston’s apartment a little while taking care of Owen and trying to stay on top of your assignments though you were missing your class lectures. Again, at game time you’d settled with Owen into the couch to watch his daddy play. Again you’d sent Auston a selfie so that he knew that you were both watching and rooting for him.

The only difference in your routine that night was that you were awoken shortly after 2am when Auston snuck into his room to change clothes before crawling into bed with you.

Auston was the only man you’d ever shared a bed with and while it was something you could certainly get used to, it was the only part of this routine that wouldn’t stay the same in the coming months.

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