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thefanficmonster · 1 year ago

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Piss off your parents pt.3 (finale)

PART 1

PART 2

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Time wasted can only be compensated with time well spent.

"You wasted us so much time."

Y/N's reply is so far from anything he could've expected, he nearly sprains his neck when his head snaps up. To find a small smile on her face, of all things.

"What?"

There's a note of deep-rooted anger in the laugh that deflates her lungs, "How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long have you felt that way?" She doubles down, her gaze now stiffened into a glare piercing right through him.

"Since we fucking met, ok?!" He'd be less nervous answering questions in front of the FBI. He doesn't know how the script flipped to her being the angry one but it's clear she's gonna let him have it. And he's gonna have to take it, he owes it to her.

"I can't fucking believe you." She shakes her head, shifting to back further away from him and lean her back against the cold mirror behind her. She'd rather hop off the counter and run off - that's what sober her would do, anyway. But, for one, her drunk alter ego is a lot more confrontational, and for two - she physically can't do that. Somewhere along the past ten minutes, Colby somehow ended up standing between her parted legs, blocking her the ability to run away without even meaning to. "You've kept me at arm's length for a whole fucking decade! Treating me like a child, a porcelain doll you feel obligated to look out for! You broke my heart so ignorantly by sleeping around with half the damn town and bragged to me about it! You pushed me into brainwashing myself in love with someone else, led me to believe he felt the same way and now you have the gull to say you were in love with me all along! Bullshit!"

Hellfire, she's showering him with utter hellfire. Each thing she listed got worse than the previous just when he expected it couldn't. It unlocked so many memories he made a vow to never again visit. That was such a low point in his life he didn't notice he had dragged one of his best friends into it as well. Well she's spelling it out for him right here, right now. Loud and fucking clear.

"And to think I was in love with you throughout all of that...fuck, I'm stupid..." She adds in a whisper, highly contrasting the rain of bullets she unleashed seconds prior. It was meant more for herself than him yet it was the final blow for him. His heart is officially down for the count.

"Was? Past tense?" Colby's eyes widen immediately. He didn't hear the words in his brain, they were as news to his ears as they were to hers. He doesn't know where the audacity came from. It's as if he's asking to get smacked. At this point, he'd prefer that to whatever venom she might spew at him. All well within her right.

To his luck, Y/N's gotten tired. Physically and emotionally. And she can't keep the grudge flame alive. Not with Colby at least. She can't help the soft spot on her heart for him. A spot so bruised and sore she can't believe it hasn't turned stiff as stone. It can't, not when her heart starts racing within his proximity every damn time. Not when a smile spreads across her face every time she looks at him. It hurts, yeah, but she doubts it'll ever go away.

"Like it fucking matters." She whispers, again with the same bitterness from earlier.

"Yes it fucking does, Y/N." It's like his brain has been shut off, all rationality has gone out the window. "You said I wasted us so much time. Don't waste more just because you're angry."

She's quick to bite back, "How can I not be? You deserve it, Colby!"

"I know that!" He might not be rational, bordering on desperate, but he's still self aware enough to see and admit to the error of his ways. But he'll be damned if he lets go of this last string of hope. He's clinging onto it like a twig in a flood. "I know I deserve it. But we don't. What we could be, that doesn't deserve more time down the drain, Y/N."

Sudden banging on the door startles them both, reminding them they're in a very peculiar location. A public bathroom. The ladies' bathroom on top of all.

"One second!" Contrasting the deer-in-headlights panic on Colby's face, Y/N takes it upon herself to handle the situation. The sound has scared him into backing away from her, giving her the required space to hop down. She turns to him, poking a finger to his chest, "Act normal. Nothing happened."

With that said, she leads the way out, unlocking the door and slipping out, giving the two girls waiting outside an apologetic smile. They return two knowing smirks when they see Colby emerge from the bathroom right behind her.

"Sorry, girl. Didn't mean to interrupt." The brunette slurs, winking at them both before following after her friend.

"You're good." Y/N replies politely, muttering after the door closed, "You helped."

The pang in Colby's chest cannot be put into words. Before he's had time to recalibrate, she's already gone, having made her way back into the party, disappearing into the crowd.

And just like that, he feels that last string of hope break.

* * * * *

"Hey, I'm so sorry about what I said earlier." Nate shakes the strands of hair away from his eyes so can properly look down at his semi-sober companion who's currently carrying him towards the elevator.

Y/N can't help but smile at him. It hurts like hell but at this point it's like the twentieth blow to the heart tonight. She's become used to it.

"It's ok, Nate. Thanks for being honest and not leading me on." She's aware she's thanking him for the bare minimum but that little conversation with Colby earlier proved to her she should be grateful for that even. Hey, he could've lied. He could've stringed her along, had his fun and then pulled the 'nothing serious' card.

But that's not Nate. He could never.

You thought Colby would never lie to you either. Now here we are

"No, that's not what I mean. I got scared, you know? Friend groups don't survive romance. But I don't care now that I think about it. We should give it a shot. It could be great. Fuck what they think." His words are slurred and his eyes are glazed over, but each syllable is drowning in sincerity. Drunk words are sober thoughts and all that but she'd rather take it as complete nonsense right now.

"Nate, sweetie..." She readjusts the hold she has on her heels so she can grab hold of his hand, "I doubt you know what you're thinking right now. Let's talk in the morning, ok? Get some sleep, sober up, and then we'll figure it out. Sounds good?" She says gently, as if explaining to a three-year-old that Santa isn't real.

He gives her one of those smiles that were the initial reason she (thought she) fell for him, "Yeah." They stop at the door to his shared hotel room with Sam and Colby. Before she can reach for the doorknob, Nate turns to her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. She momentarily lets herself play along and leans into his touch, knowing how wrong it actually is. "You're the best, Y/N." Their faces, almost instinctively, inch closer and she doesn't do anything to stop it. Fuck all rationality. This night can't get much worse, how bad could a kiss shared between friends be?

She never gets to find out though because the door to the room is thrown open, forcing them apart in an instant. The person standing on the doorstep makes it ten time worse - because of-fucking-course it's Colby.

Y/N immediately starts regretting what almost just happened, semi-glad it didn't. She shouldn't have let it get that far. She's doing to Nate what she was thankful he didn't do to her - stringing him along. She can barely recognize herself - almost kissing one of her best friends while being completely in love with another.

"Oh, um....sorry. I wanted to come help carry Nate up but.....guess you got that covered." He speaks up, trying to cut the awkwardness him and Y/N are currently drowning in. Nate is none the wiser, waving off his friend's apology with a quick 'don't worry about it'. He gives one last squeeze to her hand before going inside, leaving the two staring at each other.

"Is Sam ok?" Y/N asks, cocking her head to the side to take a peek inside the room where she can see Sam's shoes at the foot of the bed. "That fall was pretty bad."

"Yeah, he's fine." Colby sighs heavily, looking over his shoulder at the blonde in question, "Should've stopped climbing on tables like he has nine lives long ago. This might be the lesson he needed."

"Hey!" She frowns at him, "Have some compassion!"

He chuckles, opening his mouth to respond when a sudden yell cuts him off.

"Y/N? That you? Come in!" It's Sam, his voice conveying the pain he's currently in.

She knows she should be heading back down to the front desk to grab her key and go to her own room. But she can't just leave her friend on 'read' in real life and at such a dire time.

So, despite her better judgement, she goes inside to find Nate already out like a light and Sam laying flat on his bed with an arm over his eyes.

"Hi Sammy. Partied a little too hard there, dude." Y/N smiles softly at him, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Sam removes his arm from his face, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes, "Am I gonna die?"

Simultaneously both her and Colby snort out a laugh, sharing a look of mutual understanding and amusement before she returns her attention to the wounded soldier, "You won't. I promise. Just go to sleep." She replies reassuringly, readjusting the ice pack Colby had placed on his knee, causing him to hiss but still nod.

"Stay here for the night?" He asks, almost pleadingly. This interaction is a good insight on the siblingship they have. Colby and Nate have always been variables to her, but luckily she has Sam to be her constant.

"Where am I gonna sleep, Sam?" She asks lightheartedly, looking around the room at the two already occupied beds and the couch by the window.

"There." Sam points at said couch where Y/N can see some trademark Colby clothes splayed around. That's his little nook, clearly.

"And where's Colby gonna sleep?" She laughs, shooting Colby a soft look to find him already staring at her with the same gentleness she's always felt emanating from his eyes.

"The floor." Sam says with no hesitation, causing you both to laugh.

Colby is quick to flip him off, "Fuck you, man."

All he gets in response is a soft snore, alerting them that Sam too has drifted off. Probably for the best cause that scrape on his knee doesn't look pleasant.

And suddenly, they feel like they're alone. Sure, there are two other people present but a canon firing wouldn't be efficient in waking them up. So, they're practically alone.

Neither of them is happy about it.

"Really though, you should stay. What are you gonna do alone in your room?" Colby breaks the brief silence as he awkwardly struts across the room to subtly clean up the mess he's made on the couch.

Y/N shrugs, "Watch TV, drink some more, snack on something, pass out. The usual." She shrugs, carefully getting up so she doesn't nudge Sam out of his slumber.

"You can do all that here....with some company." He offers, cautious about every word that comes out of his mouth. "We don't have to talk about anything. Just raid the minibar and snack tray."

They should talk, they both know it. They're aware that they're at an age where they are considered adults. And adults talk about difficult shit even when they don't want to. They do what should be done.

Not Y/N and Colby, though.

They've cracked open a bottle of rosé and a bag of Cheetos and are currently sitting in silence. A comfortable one, for a change. They've quietly agreed to have this moment be outside the realm of everything else that occurred tonight. Like an island in a stormy sea. There will come a time when they'll have to talk about it, but most definitely not tonight.

Unless...

"Remember the first time we got drunk together?" She asks, watching the pink liquid splashing around in her glass.

Colby snorts at the memory, or whatever he can recall of it. "Barely."

"Yeah, same." She laughs, downing the rest of her wine, "I remember you disappearing for a good portion of the night. Sam and I found you bruised and bloodied hours later."

He joins her in the reminiscing, "That rose bush really did a number on me."

She takes a moment to look him in the eyes. She stays quiet, analyzing him in a way that heats up his skin as though her gaze were a physical force, "You didn't actually fall in a rose bush, did you?"

Ah, there's another lie. A small one in comparison to the first but still a lie. And since it's a night of confessions..."Remember Austin?"

He just unlocked a forgotten part of her brain, "Oh shit yeah! Whatever happened to that guy?"

A dry chuckle rattles his chest, his hand coming up to rub his face, "Well, in short, he liked you a little too much for my liking. So he found out what happens when I'm jealous and drunk."

Y/N can't help but smile. She's a simple girl, of course she finds it hot. But she'll be damned if she lets him notice. She quickly masks it with a joke, "Oh my God, you killed him!"

He laughs, shaking his head before leaning towards her a bit as if he's about to spill some government secrets, "Full disclosure, between you and me..." His eyebrows lift, waiting for her to nod a vow of silence before continuing, "I got my ass kicked."

She busts out laughing, undermining all concern for her two sleeping friends, "I'm not surprised." She teases him, reaching for the bottle for a refill.

Colby doesn't let that happen though. He quickly snatches the bottle, keeping it out of her reach, "Excuse you?!"

"You can't be salty after admitting it yourself." For caution purposes, she sets down the glass before getting up on her knees, extending her arm in a futile attempt at retrieving the stolen item. To her dismay, he just stretches his arm further, making it that much harder. "Oh, fuck you..." she mutters, hovering herself over his lap precariously, putting them in a pretty compromising position.

Colby kicks it into high gear, freeing his hand by setting the bottle down so he can sit her in his lap with a slight tug, earning him a small gasp from her. She settles into him just perfectly, like this is far from the first time they've found each other in such predicament.

Their faces are inches apart. His hands are on her sides, hers are on his shoulders. The proximity is more intoxicating than the alcohol they've consumed throughout the night. They are high on each other and are just now realizing it. Or just now admitting it.

"I thought we weren't gonna talk about it." She whispers, afraid of breaking the thin veil of tranquility currently surrounding them.

"We're not talking about it." His tone mimics hers as though he's afraid he'll scare her off. His grip on her is gentle but firm. It'll physically hurt if he tries to force himself to let go of her.

Luckily he doesn't have to because, before either of them know it, their lips collide.

The innocence of the kiss is brief and gone within seconds. Hands start roaming, breaths are shared, lines are crossed. And, technically, they aren't talking about it. But still, plenty is being said. A decade of pent up emotion is coming to fruition. It's nothing short of passionate, desperate almost.

Right on-brand for them.

* * * * *

"Hi."

They're fully clothed, cuddled up on the couch and alone in the room. Not all lines were crossed last night of fear they might regret it in the morning. However, if their smiles are anything to go by, nothing is being regretted.

Neither of them attempts to move from their comfortable little bubble. Neither of them cares that Nate and Sam probably witnessed this sight when they woke up. Neither of them tries checking the time. It's their way of trying to make the moment last longer into infinity.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Colby breaks the silence, threading his fingers through her hair.

Her ear is directly over his heart, listening to its steady rhythm she finds so much comfort in, "Just that I can't even lie right. I tell my mom one lie and it ends up becoming true."

Laughter vibrates throughout his chest, sending waves through her body as well, "Is this you asking me out?"

"Do you want it to be?" Y/N shrugs, tilting her head to look up at him.

He smirks down at her, "So much for rebelling, huh?"

"Shut up."

Knowing he won't do so on his own, she tends to the matter herself by pressing her lips to his, effectively shutting him up.

Tagging: @benbarnesprettygurl @beanredacted @m1tsk1l0v3er

#sam and colby #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x you #colby brock x y/n #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fluff #colby brock smut #colby brock fic #sam golbach imagine #sam golbach smut #nate hardy #fic #fanfic #reader #x reader #friends to lovers #fake dating

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bullet-prooflove · 6 months ago

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3 random words with Brock Reynolds? How about time, evaluation and behaviour ?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hufflepuffgirl @fanny-123456 @caffeinatedwoman @alexlynn16

Companion piece to:

Buried Socks: Ceberus has a unique way of showing how much he misses you.

Hammer: You realise you can't give Brock what he wants.

Duty Calls - You and Brock discuss starting a family in between tours.

Ask Me Again - A bad day leads Brock to ask a surprise question.

You fail your psych eval.

You tell the mental health officer about the dark thoughts you’ve been having, the nights you close your eyes and you see the faces of your targets right before their heads explode, a symptom of your bullet.

They should sign you off on leave, restrict you to a desk but they don’t instead they deploy you, rubber stamping the documentation with a pass because your country needs you, it always needs you and that’s the problem, the constant unrelenting barrage of obligation.

“You need to sleep.” Brock says the evening before the deployment, his lips brushing over your temple. “You’ve barely been to bed these last couple of nights.”

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, your sniper rifle laid out in front of you as you clean each individual piece with a thoroughness that borders on pathological behaviour.

“I don’t like what I see.” You say quietly, your eyebrows furrowed as you focus on oiling the barrel of the weapon. “When I close my eyes.”

He slips down into the seat across from you, his expression one of concern as he studies you.

“How long has that been going on?” He asks you and you set the barrel down before you pick up the stock.

“Weeks, maybe months.” You say despond. “I told them at my last eval, the solution’s the same as it always is, deployment.”

It’s happened before then. Brock understands in that moment, what you are to the Army. A tool to be used, one that fractures with every single task until it breaks, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

“You can’t go.” He tells you, his voice a harsh whisper. “Flo, you can’t make that deployment tomorrow, not if your head’s not in it. You’ll get yourself killed…”

“It’s part of the job isn’t it?” You say as you start to reassemble the weapon. “You know that as well as anyone.”

Every click is a harsh echo that vibrates through the room, another precursor to the hit he knows that’s coming if he lets you leave tomorrow morning.

“Flo, I can’t let you go.” He says, his hands coming to rest on yours stilling your movements, forcing the rifle back down onto the table. “You know that don’t you?”

You look at him then and there’s nothing in those eyes of yours, just a deep, fathomless darkness that seeps into the very depths of his soul. That’s how he knows the choice he’s about to make, it’s the right one, the one that’s going to save your life.

“If you have me committed, my career is done. They’ll never let me pick up a rifle again.” You tell him and Brock searches your gaze looking for any flicker of emotion at the thought.

“Is that what you want?” He asks you as you release your grasp on the weapon, setting it down for the last time. “For all of this to be over?”

“Yes.” You say. “I think I’m done.”

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#brock reynolds #brock reynolds x reader #seal team

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laurenairay · 1 year ago

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Lately you've been on my mind - E. Pettersson

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange, with an Elias Pettersson story for @typical-simplelove! I really hope you enjoy this Claudia– I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me, and I was just so inspired that I wrote it all in one day! And thank you Demi, for being a sounding board for me as I put together my ideas.

Summary: Brock Boeser is the ultimate match maker – he knows he is. And he is determined to set his friends up.

a.k.a. you and Elias are both friends with Brock, and keep finding yourselves in moments alone.

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: idiots to lovers, self-doubt, Brock is a meddler

Title from: Adore you, by Harry Styles

2019 was already shaping up to be a fantastic year. The sun was shining brightly, the January air was crisp and cold, and you had Spanish Banks dog park essentially to yourself, seeing that it was excruciatingly early in the morning.

But damn if the views of the North Shore mountains weren’t worth it. Your dog seemed to agree, with the way he was running up and down the sand. You’d lived in Vancouver all your 20 years so far, still living with your parents where you’d decided not to go to university, and it was moments like this that reminded you just how fortunate you were.

Your peace and quiet lasted for all of another half an hour before you heard enthusiastic barking from behind you. Recalling your dog to your side – which only took a couple of attempts, which was an improvement – you turned your head to see what was coming your way, only to freeze at the guy you saw walking towards you.

A guy that was clearly the up-and-coming star of your family’s favourite sports team, the Vancouver Canucks. Brock Boeser, in the flesh.

“Hey, sorry for interrupting your quiet.”

His smile tightened slightly when he realised you clearly knew who he was, with whatever your face was doing, but you quickly shook your head to reassure him. No, he was here just the same as you, to walk his dog. You could be cool with that.

“It’s a beautiful off-leash park – it would be a shame not to share it,” you shrugged, smiling back at him.

Brock immediately relaxed, easy a tension you didn’t realise you had.

“Who’s this beautiful pup, hm?”

“This is Bailey. I’ve had him, like, three months now? He’s only 18 months old so he’s still learning not to jump up, but he tries his best,” you mused.

“He’s perfect…”

Yes, Brock was definitely a dog person.

“…a border collie, right?”

“Yeah that’s right. He was abandoned a few months ago at a shelter my mom volunteers at, and I barely had to beg her to let me adopt him,” you laughed.

Brock just grinned. “Coola was a rescue dog as well. I adopted him back in February last year, after the All Star Game, but he lived in Minnesota with my parents while I finished my rookie year. I know the feeling of not being able to resist a sweet little dog.”

At least he understood.

With a smile, you motioned for Bailey that he was allowed to run again, and within moments Coola was joining him, the two dogs playing in the surf.

“So, you live here then?”

You and Brock walked your dogs for nearly another hour, the two of you talking like you’d known each other all your lives, before Bailey flopped at your feet, a clear sign he was done and ready to leave.

“Looks like that’s my cue,” you said dryly, making Brock laugh.

“Definitely,” he teased, “but hey, maybe we could exchange numbers? I’d love to walk Coola with you and Bailey again, now that I know they’re friends.”

You hesitated slightly, unsure whether he actually meant that, but the earnestness in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Sure, I’d like that. Bailey could use all the friends he could get,” you mused.

Brock just grinned.

“I don’t know, I have a feeling we’re going to be pretty good friends as well.”

Nearly five years on and you were (somehow) genuine friends with Brock. He’d been right, against all odds. There was just something about his straightforward friendship that made your life that little bit easier, knowing that you could rely on him to be a breath of fresh air, no drama. And you knew he appreciated your chilled approach to pretty much everything, never judging him, always his biggest supporter – both on the team and for him as a person. Brock Boeser was probably one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you cherished everything about him, like an older brother you didn’t realise you needed.

Brock had always insisted that you needed to be integrated into every part of his life, so you spent more time with his team than you ever thought you would (and hadn’t that been a starstruck moment, when you’d first attended a team gathering). He pretty much brought you to all gatherings, events, and anything to do with Coola (and now Milo), and while at first it had been overwhelming, you’d quickly adjusted when you realised just how ridiculous his teammates were.

So it wasn’t a surprise to Elias Pettersson when he walked into Brock’s house and saw you sitting on the sofa surrounded by dogs.

“Well this looks cosy.”

You grinned at his teasing words, waving him over. “It’s good to see you too, Elias.”

He shared a small private smile with you, lifting Milo’s legs to take a seat on the sofa next to you. The dog in question huffed out his displeasure but didn’t move, allowing Elias to settle in properly.

This guy, more than anyone else, was the teammate you enjoyed spending the most time with alongside Brock. Elias was definitely the most sane of all Brock’s Vancouver friends, and his dry sense of humour always had you in stitches. It was rare that he showed much of himself to anyone, as reserved as he was, but the more you’d gotten to know him over the years, the more you recognised the little signs of his reactions and collated them like hoarded treasure. And the more that Elias had gotten to know you, the more willing he seemed to be to share jokes and smiles and laughter with you, forging a friendship of your own.

And yes, sure, you couldn’t deny that you found him attractive – you’d be crazy or blind to think otherwise - but he’d never shown a hint of interest towards you in that way. And there was no way you’d ever say anything unless you were sure things were reciprocated (there was just no way), so you were more than happy to have him as a friend. Elias Pettersson was an unmistakeable joy in your life, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin that.

He really was so handsome though.

“I’m surprised Brock isn’t buried under puppies like usual,” Elias said.

“We haven’t been long back from walking the dogs, so I said I’d get them settled while he showered and got ready to head out with you,” you explained, running your hand over your Bailey’s head.

“He does need to look pretty enough to leave the house, that’s true,” he mused.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the both of you knowing Brock needed no help in looking pretty, Elias just smiling widely.

It just goes to show how wrapped up you were in Elias’s attention that neither of you noticed Brock standing at the bottom of the stairs, eyes lighting up at your laughter and Elias’s smile.

It was early, far too early, but here you were fulfilling Bailey’s every need. You were wrapped up warm, puffer jacket, woollen hat, gloves, and scarf, walking your border collie through Hadden Park, allowing the travel mug of coffee to wake you up fully while you took in the views surrounding you. Bailey was in his element, trotting about and sniffing every single leaf and twig, and it was only your phone buzzing that broke you out of your silent contentment.

From: Brock Hey, are you walking Bailey?

To: Brock Yeah we’re at Hadden Park Wasn’t sure if you would be getting up early after your game last night so I didn’t text

From: Brock Hah yeah fair enough Do you mind if Petey comes along?

You tried not to fantasise about why Elias was so willing to join you both on a dog walk, so early on a day off. You tried so hard.

To: Brock Of course I don’t mind

From: Brock Of course?

You felt heat dancing across your cheeks. Damn it Brock.

To: Brock You know I think Petey is great.

From: Brock Well I definitely do now.

You groaned, already able to picture the smirk on your friend’s face.

To: Brock Don’t be dumb I’ll see you soon

The last thing you needed was Brock teasing you, especially in front of Elias. The last thing you wanted was Elias to feel uncomfortable around you, just because you find him attractive. The last thing you could bear would be if you lost your friendship with Elias just because Brock was reading into things that weren’t true.

But there was nothing you could do for damage control until Brock was in front of you. All you could hope was that he didn’t make you look like an idiot.

It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes before you saw the familiar pair walking towards you, dogs at Brock’s side, and you found yourself smiling despite your trepidation. You gave them both hugs in greeting, travel mug long empty and placed in your bag, Bailey barking happily.

“What a beautiful morning,” Brock said happily.

“Cold but beautiful, sure,” you mused.

Elias nodded his agreement, thick scarf wrapped in loops around him, Brock just laughing.

“Petey, you don’t mind taking Coola while I walk Milo, do you?” Brock asked.

Elias narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read into Brock’s words, but Brock just kept smiling at him.

“Sure, I can walk Coola,” Elias eventually said.

“Great!”

The moment that Coola’s leash was in Elias’s hands, Coola darted forward, Elias crashing directly into your body. It was only through his quick reflexes that you didn’t end up on your ass, his hands clutching at your hips while you clung to his jacket.

“Coola! Chill!”

Brock’s giggled words did little to calm his dog down, all three dogs dancing around your feet as Elias steadied you. His face was impossibly close to yours, breath practically mingling. How had you not realised how blue his eyes were before this? His lips were parted slightly, as if he was still processing, but it was only when Bailey bumped into both of your legs that he abruptly let you go, and you dropped your hands too.

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurted, stepping away sharply.

“No apologies needed. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, shaking your head with a weak smile.

“Aww you can’t blame Coola for being excited,” Brock grinned, kneeling down to give fuss to both his dogs.

There was something in his smile that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Hm.

“Shall we walk then, if they’re so excited?” Elias said dryly.

All three dogs started barking at the word ‘walk’, making you laugh and nod, Brock just grinning even wider.

From: Brock Petey is taking the roadtrip losses really hard. Come over tomorrow?

You don’t know what it was that possessed you, but the moment you received those texts from Brock, you knew you had to do something. Elias was such a stoic guy, so reserved in his emotions, so the fact that it was obvious enough he was suffering that Brock asked for your help? There was no way you weren’t going to do everything in your power to ease any tensions they had, especially Elias.

There wasn’t much you could do, but you could do this.

When you arrived at Brock’s house the next morning, you were only mildly startled to see Elias opening the door instead of Brock, his eyes flashing in surprise before he smiled.

“Did Brock not say I was coming over?” you said hesitantly.

The last thing you wanted was to intrude.

“He said we were going for brunch, but this is a welcome surprise,” Elias said, smiling softly.

Oh. Now you felt stupid.

Wait, a welcome surprise?

“I don’t know what is making your face do that, but I’m not lying when I say it’s good to see you,” Elias said firmly.

“Alright, I believe you,” you mused.

Elias just grinned, walking over to the bottom of the staircase.

“SHE’S HERE!”

“GOOD! YOU’RE COMING FOR BRUNCH, RIGHT?”

You rolled your eyes fondly at Brock’s assumptions. It wasn’t like you had much else planned for today, but still!

“YEAH I’LL COME!”

Elias laughed at your matching volume, making you smile back at him, a light flush dusting across your cheeks. His laugh was magical and you weren’t going to shame yourself for liking it.

“Brock’s just finishing his hair and then he’ll be down. That’s what he said anyway,” Elias explained, sitting down on the arm of Brock’s sofa.

“He’s got an image to maintain, can’t be looking anything less than perfect,” you teased, the familiar joke making you smile.

Elias just snickered, shaking his head. You leaned up against the back of the sofa, standing close enough to Elias that the blue of his eyes was almost hypnotising, before you remembered why you came over in the first place.

“It feels a little silly now, but I heard from a little bird that you were taking things a little rough, so here’s a little something,” you said.

“Brock needs to keep his mouth shut,” he grumbled.

You just laughed, reaching into your bag to pull out the gift. But as you placed it in his hands, Elias froze.

“What’s this?” Elias said, eyes wide in shock.

You bit your bottom lip, before letting out a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.

“You were having a bad day. So I made you a hat,” you said simply, trying to keep your voice light and airy.

“You made me a hat? You knitted this?”

Elias stared down in wonder at the soft light blue woollen bundle in his hand, a look of pure astonishment on his face. It was only then that you realised how close it was to the colour of his eyes.

“Uh, yes, I did? I got back into knitting recently, so it’s nothing fancy, but I just wanted to make something to cheer you up?” you said, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“No-one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his soft words.

“Really?”

“Really really,” Elias nodded.

“I’ve never had a hat made for me either.”

You flinched at the sound of Brock’s voice coming from behind you, Elias immediately scowling over your shoulder.

“Wouldn’t want to cover up your Prince Charming hair,” Elias grumbled, shoving the hat into the pocket of his hoodie.

You didn’t mention the dark blue hat you’d knitted for Brock that was tucked into your bag. Brock pouted as you snickered, slinking into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Look, I know it’s not really my place. And that we’re just friends because of Brock. But these losses were just a bad blip – you’re going to get over them in no time at all, and be back to destroying the other teams like you were born to,”

Elias smiled wryly. “It doesn’t feel like that right now. But thanks.”

You pursed your lips briefly before huffing out a breath. Telling him what you really thought was hardly the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done.

“You make me so proud. You know that, right?”

“What?” Elias frowned.

“You go out there, every single day, and give this team, this city, your all. Your pour yourself into everything that you do, always give 100%, and as your friend, as someone who has known you for years…I am so proud of you.”

As your cheeks heated from your words, Elias swallowed heavily, a flush dusting across his own cheeks.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to deserve your kind words, but I appreciate it. Thank you,” he murmured.

Your heartbeat raced at the intensity in his eyes.

“Brunch? Can we go?”

Elias scowled again at Brock’s grinning interruption but walked away towards the front door. You were read to grumble at Brock yourself, until you saw Elias pull the knitted hat out of his pocket and slide it on over his hair. It looked…perfect.

“Are you good?” Brock asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

Your voice was far breathier than you would ever admit.

Another month, another team event. This time Brock had invited you to be his plus one to a formal gala, hardly the first time he had asked and yet this time he practically begged you to come along. You didn’t need him to beg, you could admit that much – the events were always fun and hey, you got to dress up nicely – but his behaviour was strange, even for him.

Either way, Brock had looked ecstatic when you said yes, even going as buying you a gorgeous midnight blue evening gown, sleeveless and high-necked, as classy as it was beautiful, so you were going to complain. He could have his secrets – you knew you’d get it out of him eventually.

He picked you up after you’d gotten your hair and nails done, make-up subtle but elegant, wide smile on his face as he drove the two of you to the event. You didn’t have time to be suspicious about his good mood as the two of you greeted his teammates and their better halves, your attention consumed by all the cheek kisses and compliments, but you should’ve known he was up to something. Because the moment that the two of you joined Elias at a table with a few chairs around it, Brock all but disappeared, leaving the two of you completely alone.

“Hi Brock. Bye Brock,” Elias said dryly.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into him tonight, I am so sorry,” you sighed.

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for him. I’m sorry that he’s abandoned you already,” Elias said, frowning.

“Well at least I’m near a chair,” you said, huffing out a laugh, “High heels are not my friends.”

Elias immediately pulled a chair out for you to sit on, and you felt a gentle heat brush across your cheeks at the gentlemanly action.

“Thanks Elias,” you said, more shocked than anything.

Not too shocked to smile at him as he sat down right next to you, after picking up a couple of flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. If he wanted to join you…well, you weren’t going to complain. Not if you got his attention all to yourself.

It can’t have been more than an hour before Brock wandered back over, but by the flush on his cheeks and the glassiness of his eyes, he was more than a little tipsy. Damn it Brock.

“You’re not going to ask this beautiful woman to dance, Petey?”

Elias immediately blushed furiously, eyes narrowing at his friend, making you want to die a little inside – but also to shield him.

“Oh no, these heels are killing my feet already. Elias is just being kind enough to keep me company,” you said sweetly.

Brock snickered, shaking his head, but walked away without any further pestering. You both sat there for a moment in silence, reeling from the short conversation. What the hell was that, Brock?

“You didn’t have to make up a lie to defend me,” Elias said, finally looking at you again.

“I wanted to.”

The mortification that filled your body upon your blurted words was immediate and all-consuming, especially with how surprised Elias looked. How could you save this? How the hell could you save this?

“Besides it’s the least I could do for Brock dumping me on you in the first place,” you said coolly, shrugging, trying to calm yourself down and failing miserably.

Elias hesitated before something flashed across his face, and he looked at you with an expression you’d never seen from him before. It made you shiver. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Oh.

He…really?

You’d spent so long convinced that he didn’t see you that way, that he wasn’t attracted to you in the slightest, and now that he’d said this? Giving you enough to let yourself hope, to admit to yourself that your sweetest daydreams and deepest fantasies could actually be reality?

While your mind raced, full of swirling realisations that perhaps things weren’t so unrequited after all, Elias just watched you, expression just as intense as before. It wasn’t until you let out a shaky breath, smiling a tiny smile at him, that he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Another drink?”

“Yes, definitely.”

Movie nights were sacred. It didn’t matter who they were with, not really, but now that you had your own tiny apartment, a night in watching your favourite movies and eating your favourite snacks was always the best way to unwind. Usually Brock was your only companion, or Brock with a few of his teammates, and that was the plan tonight. Brock and Elias were both joining you for a movie night and you couldn’t wait to have a chilled night in with two of your favourite people. Even if your whole world had been shaken up only last week at that eventful team gala.

The pizzas you’d ordered hadn’t long arrived before Elias arrived at your door, beers in hand, and you let him in with a happy smile.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, smiling shyly back at you.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sweetness in his face, and you found yourself just nodding.

“You know you’re always welcome. Come on, pizza just got here too.”

Elias all but raced you to the kitchen, making you laugh as he opened the cardboard lids. But your phone buzzed before you could reach for a slice.

From: Brock I can’t make it tonight. Have fun. Both of you.

You heart started racing at his implications, knowing deep in your bones that Brock never intended to come this evening. Had he known all along, how you felt about Elias? And how you hoped Elias felt for you too?

Surely not.

But then again, Brock always surprised you. You had always tried not to underestimate your friend, but it appeared that you’d fallen for that sweet innocent smile just the same as everyone else.

“Is Brock on his way?”

“Brock isn’t coming.”

“Oh.”

Elias seemed to hesitate, making you inhale sharply.

“Did you want to reschedule?” he asked, wincing.

You could be brave, right? Or at least take a step towards bravery?

“You’re already here…so we can still have our own movie night?” you suggested, unable to stop yourself from chewing your bottom lip.

Elias’s eyes flickered down quickly towards your mouth, before he cleared his throat and smiled softly at you. “Yeah, of course we can. Also means we don’t have to listen to Brock whining that we aren’t watching one of his rom com choices.”

The dryness of his tone made you giggle, immediately cutting through the lingering awkward tension. You could absolutely do a movie night just with Elias. You could absolutely handle being alone with him like this.

Absolutely.

The two of you ploughed through the pizzas while you watched one of you go-to action movies, laughing and talking all the way through, even finishing the popcorn and a couple of beers each by the time the credits were rolling. Bailey had happily sat by your feet the whole time, actually behaving himself for once, and you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so content. So relaxed and happy. Brock had always brought that out in you, and now that Elias had too? It just filled you with butterflies in the best way.

“Shall we watch another?”

“Definitely,” you nodded, smiling up at him.

Elias smiled easily back. “You choose? I’ll clear up.”

Before you could protest or even help him, Elias had picked up both pizza boxes and all the empty beer bottles, leaving you alone on the sofa. You heard him opening the trash can, snapping you out of your surprise, so you started scrolling through Netflix again, eventually deciding on a light-hearted comedy just as Elias re-entered the room. Bailey had trotted out to his own bed when Elias left, so it really was just the two of you now.

Something that made your breath hitch in your throat was the way that Elias sat down closer to you this time. Unmistakably closer, close enough to feel the heat from his body and to smell his cologne. He did that on purpose, there was no doubt about it. But his face gave you no answers, nothing more than his usual smile around you, so you let it go. Overthinking things was definitely not the way to go, you knew that much.

It didn’t make your heartrate calm down at all though.

You pressed play to get the movie started, lightly tossing the tv remote onto your coffee table before settling back into the sofa, letting the familiar introduction wash over you.

It took ten minutes for everything to change.

Elias wasn’t a big hugger. You knew this. Brock knew this. The whole of the Vancouver Canucks knew this. So when you felt a pressure along your shoulders, you tried not to flinch, realising it was his arm stretching across the back of the sofa when his hand lightly brushed your opposite shoulder. Elias…Elias had put his arm around you. He’d put his arm around you? You glanced up at him, trying to get any sense of his thought process, but his eyes were resolutely glued to the television, his body a frozen line of tension. All over again, your heart started racing. You were right after all. Maybe…maybe Elias really did have feelings for you, just as he’d finally hinted at the team event, and now he was making a gentle move in the most Petey way ever.

The ball was in your court.

Ever so slowly, you relaxed against under his arm, sinking into his side, head resting on his chest. You could hear just how fast his own heart was racing and it made you smile, feeling giddy that he was just as affected as you were, even more so when his arm draped around you properly. This was really happening. Elias Pettersson had really instigated snuggling with you on the sofa. This was better than any dream you could’ve imagined.

The next thing you knew, you were blinking your eyes open. The sky outside was pitch black, the curtains still wide open, and the Netflix landing page was glaring bright. But the main thing you noticed? You were curled up against Elias’s side still, head resting on his chest, his arm having fallen down to your waist and his head lolling back on the sofa. You’d fallen asleep together? Was there anything more cliché than that? Still, it felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest with how right it felt to be in Elias’s hold. His hands were so large and so warm, the heat spreading through the contact on top of your sweatpants. His chest was so solid and calming under your cheek. And as you lifted your head, ever to slightly to look at him properly, even just through the light from the TV he looked so handsome. Beautiful and peaceful. But there was no way that could be comfortable for him, and the last thing you wanted was for an aching neck to put a damper on what was the perfect evening.

So you lightly rested your hand on his chest, shaking him gently until you heard him grunt in displeasure.

“Hey, Elias, we fell asleep on the sofa,” you murmured.

He immediately groaned, making you laugh softly, smiling at him as he finally lifted his head.

“I was having such a good dream,” he grumbled.

Then he seemed to freeze as he realised where he actually was, taking note of how you were still tucked into his side, and where his arm and hand were holding you.

“Damn it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, no, we both fell asleep eh?” you said, interrupting with a smile and a shake of your head, “It’s fine, Elias. We were both cosy.”

He swallowed heavily before nodding.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep on the sofa with someone before,” he mumbled, “It was…nice.”

You felt your cheeks heating up with the gentle compliment, your smile letting him know you felt the same.

“I should go,” he said softly.

No!

Well, now was your moment. Now was the time to be brave where you’d never needed to be so brave before. After everything that had been building between the two of you…now was the moment.

“Or, maybe you could stay, and we could talk in the morning,” you offered as calmly as you could.

You felt Elias inhale sharply where your hand was still resting on his chest.

“The kind of talk that I’ve been wanting to have for a while?” he asked, hope evident in his eyes.

Oh wow.

For a while?

You felt like you were floating as his words sunk in.

“Yeah I think we’re on the same page,” you murmured, your blood thrumming with possibility.

The smile that spread across Elias’s face made your heart soar, and you found yourself smiling just as widely back. And when he leant forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead, you’d never felt more alive.

You could only imagine Brock’s satisfied grin when you told him.

#my writing #winter fic exchange 2k24 #elias pettersson fic #elias pettersson imagine #elias pettersson fanfic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic

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acronym-chaos · 2 months ago

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Border Collie Themed ID Pack

[PT: Border Collie Themed ID Pack].

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom. End ID].

Names

[PT: Names].

Abbey, Alfie, Andrew, Annie, Austin, Bailey, Beck, Belle, Bess, Bleu, Bolt, Bravo, Breeze, Brock, Chase, Cole, Dare, Derby, Diego, Domino, Eli, Fable, Flo, Flyer, Freedom, Hardy, Harvey, Ivan, Jan, Jasper, Jess, Keegan, Lance, Leroy, Levi, Marble, Mist, Molly, Nolan, Nolley, Ollie, Oreo, Oscar, Pace, Pal, Patches, Periwinkle, Rye, Shep, Skye, Taff, Tammy, Tasha, Whitney, Zeph

Pronouns

[PT: Pronouns].

Bork / Bark / Barks, Ca / Canine / Can, Cle / Clever / Clevers, Fi / Field / Fie, Fluff / Fluffs / Fluffs, Guard / Guardian / Guards, Her / Herder / Herders, Nip / Nips / Nips, Pa / Pace / Paces, Pa / Paw / Paws, Run / Runs / Runs, She / Sheep / Sheeps, Sprin / Sprint / Sprints, Watch / Watchs / Watchs, Wei / Wind / Winds, Wo / Wool / Wools, Work / Worker / Works, Zoom / Zooms / Zooms

Titles

[PT: Titles].

[Noun] Who Herds, [Pronoun] of Infinite Energy, [Pronoun] Who Guards the Flock, A Mind in Motion, The Clever Herder, The Herd Whisperer, The Motion Blur in Dog Form, The One Who Outruns [Pronouns] Own Shadow, The One Who Runs Without Tiring, The Protector of the Pasture, The Quick Step, The Sheep's Nightmare, The Sprinting Shadow, The Watchful Eye

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom, End ID].

Requested by anon

Also tagging: @id-pack-archive

#border collie kin #border collie therian #dogkin #dog therian #canine kin #canine therian #id pack #npts #npt pack #npt #npt list #names pronouns titles #name suggestions #pronoun suggestions #title suggestions #neopronouns #neopronoun suggestions

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mousemannation · 6 months ago

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x | steve vivian | 30/1/2022

The unholy experience of watching Daniil Medvedev lose, even when he wins

"Will you answer my question? Look at me. I'm talking to you."

Like an irate chef taking out the night's frustrations on a down-on-their-luck kitchen hand, Daniil Medvedev delivered another masterclass in melting down during his semifinal defeat of Stefanos Tsitsipas on Friday night.

Has anyone ever sincerely asked someone, "are you stupid?", and come out of the exchange looking good?

It didn't do all that much to endear Medvedev to viewers when he posed that question to chair umpire Jaume Campistol during his semi-final meltdown, berating Campistol for doing nothing about Tsitsipas's father supposedly coaching his son from the stands.

Ironically, as the commentators pointed out on the telecast, Tsitsipas really doesn't like it when his father coaches him during games.

If this was all you knew about the two players, you might not be surprised to learn the fans leant heavily pro-Tsitsipas, leaving Medvedev again playing heel to a crowd often about as respectful to him as he was to the chair umpire.

A player throwing a wobbly is no surprise in men's tennis, but what makes the 25-year-old Russian's outlandish emotional vulnerability so thrilling is that it's such a strange case.

People differ on their approval levels of Nick Kyrgios's on-court act — the sulks you can set your watch to; part petulance, part chaos-agent showmanship — but his charisma and I'm-just-trying-to-figure-it-all-out personality can often win over even the harshest of critics.

Then you have the Medvedev outburst that, seemingly lacking all self-awareness, as if scripted to get the crowd offside, is probably best watched peaking through your fingers.

In his standard operating environment, Medvedev out rallies his opponent with a cool detachment bordering on a baffling indifference from the back of the court.

Limbs perfectly calibrated, he is somehow both gangly and efficient in his movement, combining long levers and uncomplicated form into ruthless precision.

His style, or lack thereof, appears almost as a rebuke to the flourishes and preen of the modern player.

It's in the no fuss of those two bounces before each serve. Bang. Bang. Ball toss. Whack. Unfailingly replicated without appearing premeditated. All over before most opponents would have elected which ball to use.

So where does the uncomplicated man that just wants to get on with it suddenly go?

A viewer might feel cheated by the reveal – the ruthlessness dissolving into desperation — if it wasn't so perversely endearing.

The Medvedev experience is a little like watching Eddie Brock trying to deal with his new symbiote friend in the superhero movie Venom.

Except not everyone will go in for the Russian as their hero.

As a character, he more resembles a creation by his countryman, novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky's the Underground Man — a proud guy who craves the admiration of those around him.

But when it comes to being adored, the Underground Man can only shoot himself in the foot whenever he gets the chance.

And so it was that Medvedev blew the Dorothy Dixer Jim Courier served up to him in his post-match interview following his semi-final victory.

Courier: I want to ask you … will you take a peek at Ash Barty and Danielle Collins — the women's final?

Medvedev: It depends what time they're playing … 7:30pm? I'm usually going to dinner at 8:15pm …

Courier: Come on, man. I'm trying to set you up to win this crowd over, and you're just kicking it.

But the Underground Man is an underdog — which we love — and judging by the large chip he hacks into his own shoulder each match, it seems like Medvedev believes he's the underdog, too.

Australian tennis watchers lost their pantomime villain in Novak Djokovic on the eve of the tournament.

But in Daniil Medvedev, they have a true antihero.

#guys this might be the greatest article ever written #i might pull some quotes out and make a separate post but this has been in my drafts for literally like three months #daniil medvedev #мышиный мужчина #it was published the day of the ao final the miracle in Melbourne (not for daniil)#mouse man national gazette

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clove-pinks · 1 month ago

Note

What are your thoughts on Fort George? Legit anything you care about or are interested in about it!

Well, I have never been to Fort George, but it has been part of my War of 1812 Dream Vacation planning since 2020. I would LOVE to visit the whole Niagara Campaign region, including Fort George in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Brock's Monument, Queenston Heights, Lundy's Lane, and Niagara Falls. There are so many cool destinations on both sides of the US-Canada border, I'm sorry that international travel has been needlessly complicated. (This is a factor discouraging me from making this vacation idea a reality, and I need a new passport.)

At least I have a local connection to Fort George: the 41st Regiment of Foot from Fort George also besieged Fort Meigs and fought at the River Raisin, so their reenactor group comes out here for events. :)

I have been collecting items from the Fort George online giftshop for years, and I'm a big fan of their cookbook, The Fort George Bill of Fare (which I had to ship to a Canadian friend who then sent it to me, as the gift shop did not ship to the US at first). Not everything from the physical gift shop is available online, and I am still looking for Fort George T-shirts and apparel. It may have to wait until I finally visit in person.

#war of 1812 #fort george #canadian history #asks #thank you for the ask!!#sorry it took me eight years to answer this #fort george my beloved #some day i will have my niagara vacation #redcoats #dressed to kill

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whencyclopedia · 6 months ago

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Siege of Detroit

The Siege of Detroit (15-16 August 1812) was one of the first major actions of the War of 1812. After a botched invasion of Canada, a US army retreated to Fort Detroit, where it was besieged by British and Native American forces under Major General Isaac Brock and Shawnee chieftain Tecumseh. The Americans quickly capitulated, leaving Detroit in British hands.

Background: March to Detroit

By April 1812, war between the United States and the United Kingdom seemed just over the horizon. On the high seas, British warships had been boarding American merchantmen and impressing American sailors with impunity, while on the northwestern frontier, British agents were believed to be aiding two Shawnee brothers, Tecumseh and the Prophet, in their attempt to form a Native American confederacy and resist US encroachment onto their hunting grounds. In Congress, a clique of belligerent, newly-elected representatives – called 'War Hawks' – clamored for war, despite the reluctance of the general population and the underpreparedness of the military. To prepare for a conflict that seemed increasingly likely, the administration of President James Madison looked to shore up defenses in the northwest, where the US shared a border with British-controlled Canada.

As part of this plan, the Madison administration ordered a new army to be raised in the Michigan Territory and then marched to the outpost of Fort Detroit. William Hull, the 59-year-old governor of the Michigan Territory, was commissioned as a brigadier general and offered the command. Hull, a veteran of the American Revolutionary War, was reluctant to accept – he had, after all, recently suffered a stroke – but his fear of an increase in Native American attacks against Michigan settlers led him to take the command. On 25 May, Hull arrived in Dayton, Ohio, where his makeshift army was being assembled, and was dismayed at what he found. The volunteers were noisy and undisciplined, lacking adequate arms or powder. Organized into three militia regiments, the volunteers insisted on electing their own officers. As such, the men they selected as colonels – Duncan McArthur, James Findlay, and Lewis Cass – were all either politicians or aspiring politicians, men with no military experience.

After a botched army inspection in which Hull was nearly flung from his horse, the army of Ohio volunteers set out on 1 June. Proceeding at a slow pace, they reached the frontier community of Urbana ten days later, where they were joined by Lt. Colonel James Miller and a regiment of regulars, the 4th US Infantry. At Urbana, some of Hull's volunteers refused to go any further, claiming that they had not received the full pay that had been promised to them. Though they were eventually prodded along by Miller's regulars, it was not a promising start. A few days later another incident took place when one militiaman, drunk on moonshine, was startled by a noise in the dark and shot one of his fellow sentries. The man was promptly court-martialed and given the "grotesque sentence" of having his ears cropped and each cheek branded (Berton, 94). The army then marched into the Great Black Swamp, northwest of Ohio, where incessant rainfalls had overflown streams and turned the ground to mud. Meanwhile, they were, unbeknownst to them, being closely watched by Tecumseh's scouts, hiding amongst the trees.

On 26 June, Hull received a letter from the US Secretary of War dated 18 June, warning him that war was imminent and ordering him to get to Detroit "with all possible speed". On 1 July, Hull reached the mouth of the Maumee River where he hired the schooner Cuyahoga and loaded it with anything that was slowing the army down, including his personal dispatches, officers' baggage, extra uniforms, medical supplies, and around 30 sick men. The Cuyahoga then sailed into Lake Erie to transport the supplies to Detroit. The next day, Hull received a second letter from Washington, also dated 18 June, informing him that war had been declared, but it was too late to recall the schooner. As it attempted to enter the Detroit River, the Cuyahoga, carrying Hull's dispatches, was captured by a Canadian vessel. On 5 July, Hull finally reached Detroit, where he was joined by several companies of Michigan militia, bringing his total number to about 2,500 men. Hull, whose army was running dangerously low on supplies, had hoped to find food in Detroit but was disappointed.

#History #American #Americans #Amherstburg #WHE #[#]

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nekoannie-chan · 1 month ago

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Shadows in the Wind

Title: Shadows in the Wind.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Brock Rumlow X Reader ft. Sam Wilson.

Word count: 1057 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Sam doesn't trust Brock.

Major Tags: Angst, arguing.

Additional tags: I watched Point Black, and I imagine Brock and Sam on a mission, working together or something.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish, so I wanna improve my writing skills in English. Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I will correct them.

I don’t grant permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or in other languages (I translate my work) or for the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this). I created them exclusively for my fics; please respect my work and refrain from stealing it. Some people here make dividers that anyone can use; mine is not this type, so please look for the other people's dividers. The only exceptions are those I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @real-fbi @caplanbuckybarnes @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @azulatodoryuga @endlesstwanted @patzammit @kmc1989

The roar of the helicopters faded as they descended into the middle of a valley surrounded by thick coniferous trees. The icy wind whipped. Sam Wilson adjusted the visor of his goggles and glanced to the right. Brock Rumlow, standing with his arms crossed and his jaw tense, ignored him completely. You stood between the two of them, trying not to show the weight of discomfort.

Since Brock had joined the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D. after his redemption, he had had to earn every ounce of trust. It wasn't easy. To many, he was still Crossbones. To Sam Wilson, he still was.

“We have to advance to Delta point before nightfall," you said, breaking the silence. You were used to mediating between them, but you knew that sooner or later something would break out.

Sam stepped forward without responding, Brock let out a snort.

“Doesn't he get tired of acting like he has the cleanest morals in the world? “he muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

“Don't start, Brock," you warned him, lowering your tone so Sam wouldn't hear. But it was too late.

Sam turned with a jerk.

“Do you have something to tell me, Rumlow? Or are you still talking behind my back, like when you were working with HYDRA?”

Brock clenched his fists, took a step forward, but you put your body between them.

“Stop it. Both of you. This mission is critical. If we don't capture the engineer before he crosses the border, the whole operation goes to hell. We don't have time for their egos.

Both men looked at you. Brock was frowning, but he obeyed you. Not for Sam, but for you. Sam sighed, averted his gaze, and continued walking.

Hours later, the team had arrived at the abandoned building where the target was hiding: a defected biotech engineer who had worked with Chitauri technology residues for an Eastern European cell.

The cold was intense, and you leaned against a concrete column as you checked the thermal plan.

“Five signatures. Second floor. One moves to the window," you whispered, passing the scanner to Brock, who crouched down next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“I can go on the right flank, sneak in through the ventilation shaft. I've done it a thousand times in worse operations," he said, lowering his voice.

“You did it when you were still working for the bad guys," Sam sputtered from the left.

“And yet I was doing better than you," Brock shot back, looking at him with a smile.

“Are you going to kill yourselves here or go into the damn building? “you interrupted them in a whisper, wielding your gun. In the end, you went in first. Because you knew that if one of them went in alone, they'd probably beat the shit out of each other before they found their target.

The mission was chaotic. The engineer was not alone. There were at least eight armed men, two with improvised exoskeletal implants with alien technology. The combat was hand-to-hand. Sam flew through the air and stunned several with his wings. You took down two with accurate shots. And Brock...

Brock untied.

As if every fist thrown was a way to get rid of his past. He wouldn't let anyone touch you. But it was not enough. One of the subjects managed to activate with a Chitauri booster and threw a kinetic discharge against you. You were thrown several meters, crashing into a wall.

Everything stopped for Brock.

Not Sam's screams, not the chaos of the shooting. Just you, lying on the ground.

“No! Y/N! “He ran towards you without thinking, ignoring the shot that grazed his side. Sam covered him. Brock took you in his arms. Look at me... Come on, baby. Look at me," he whispered, his voice cracking. He held you with hands stained with blood and dirt, but his eyes held fear, a fear few had ever seen in him. You blinked, barely conscious.

“Are you... hurt more than having to work with Sam? “you murmured. He let out a laugh, his forehead resting on yours for a second.

“Idiot...

“That's what Sam said, too... “you whispered before fainting.

At the end of the mission and while you were recovering in the plane, asleep under sedation, Brock approached Sam quietly.

“Thank you for covering for me.

Sam looked at him. There was sweat on his forehead, and dust on his boots.

“You don't do it for the job. You do it for Y/N. And that, Rumlow, makes you bearable. Not friendly. But useful.

“It's enough for me that she's alive," Brock muttered, not looking at the other. Sam nodded and went to sit down.

Hours later, at the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical base, you awoke in a dimly lit room with the smell of disinfectant. Your left arm was bandaged, you had a couple of stitches in your eyebrow and a dull ache in your ribs. As you turned around, you saw it.

Brock was sitting next to you. He wasn't wearing his combat uniform; just a tight black T-shirt, still stained with dried blood. His knuckles were bandaged, and his eyes were fixed on you.

“You're alive... “he whispered in a whisper, as if he still didn't believe it.

“You promised me not to cry if I died on a mission.”

“And you promised me that you were not going to die in any of them.”

You laughed a little, but it was a bad idea. The pain cut off your laughter with a gasp. Brock leaned toward you, his hand trembling as he stroked your cheek.

“What happened out there? “you asked.

“Wilson covered for me. He could have let me die... but he didn't.”

“Maybe you're not as irredeemable as he thought.”

“I am. Only you are the exception.”

“Brock... “you whispered, knowing where it was all going. He stood up, paced back and forth across the room.

“I don't know how to go on with this. Every time we go on a damn mission, I'm afraid I'll never see you again. I'm afraid I'll lose the only thing I have left... you.”

You called out to him with your hand, weak but firm. He returned to your side, and you took his face between your fingers, feeling the scraggly beard under your palm.

“I love you, Brock.”

#Brock Rumlow X Reader #Brock Rumlow X Reader ft. Sam Wilson

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emodrstan · 3 months ago

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@axelwolf8109 @nix-sacrificium @al3xandra-marvel

I won't shut up about wanting evil vampire Joaquin in Avengers Doomsday

The fractured outskirts of the Avengers compound sprawled beneath a bruised sky, its jagged edges of shattered concrete and twisted rebar casting long shadows across the debris-strewn ground. Smoke drifted upward in lazy tendrils, mingling with the acrid scent of burnt metal—a testament to a battle that had left the once-proud facility in ruins. A loose assembly of villains had gathered here, their silhouettes stark against the flickering horizon: mercenaries, rogue scientists, and travelers from broken realities, all drawn together by the whispered promise of Doctor Doom’s imminent dominion.

A shadow passed overhead, accompanied by the faint rustle of feathers slicing through the air. Joaquin Torres descended, his massive black wings unfurling as he landed with predatory elegance near the group. The wings, dark as midnight and shimmering with an oily sheen, folded against his back, their tips brushing the ground. His pale skin gleamed in the dim light, a stark contrast to the crimson glow of his eyes, and his fanged mouth parted slightly as he exhaled a low hiss. Claws tipped his fingers, sharp and obsidian-black, while scythe-like talons protruded from his toes, clicking against the rubble. This vampire Torres, winged and feral, was a vision of beauty and terror from some warped alternate universe.

Brock Rumlow stepped forward from the cluster of villains, his scarred face breaking into a grin as he watched Joaquin touch down. His patched tactical gear clung to his broad frame, a relic of countless fights, and he moved with the easy confidence of a man who’d carved his place in chaos. He extended a hand toward Joaquin, his voice rough but warm, laced with an admiration that bordered on reverence.

“The great hunter, Joaquin Torres,” Brock said, his tone carrying a note of pride. “He is beautiful, isn’t he?”

Joaquin’s lips twitched into a faint, fanged smile as he took Brock’s outstretched hand, his claws grazing Brock’s skin with a delicate precision that belied their lethality. His black wings shifted slightly, feathers rustling as he stepped closer, the air between them crackling with a quiet intensity. Their touch lingered for a heartbeat, a silent affirmation of the bond they shared—lovers tempered by the fires of a brutal world, unyielding even in this fractured reality. Joaquin’s crimson gaze held Brock’s for a moment before sweeping over the others, assessing them with a predator’s cold calculation.

Helmut Zemo, lounging against a slab of fallen concrete, adjusted his fur-collared coat and smirked. His sharp eyes flicked between the pair, catching the subtle interplay with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “Yeah,” he drawled, his Sokovian accent curling around the words, “that screech is a real turn-on.”

Joaquin’s head snapped toward Zemo, his wings flaring briefly as a guttural screech tore from his throat—sharp, piercing, and unmistakably menacing. The sound reverberated through the ruins, a primal warning that sent a shiver through the gathered villains. His talons flexed, gouging faint lines in the concrete, and his feathers bristled as if primed for flight or fight. Zemo’s smirk wavered, though he masked it with a casual tilt of his head, unfazed on the surface.

Brock laughed, a rough, hearty sound, and clapped Joaquin on the shoulder, pulling him in close. “Easy, baby,” he said, his voice a blend of amusement and affection. “Zemo’s just mad he can’t pull off wings like you do.” He shot Zemo a sidelong glance, his grin sharpening. “Or claws, for that matter.”

Zemo inclined his head, conceding with a faint chuckle. “A fair point, Rumlow. He’s… distinctive, I’ll give you that.”

Joaquin’s screech faded into a low, rumbling hiss as he settled against Brock’s side, his wings folding neatly against his back. The other villains—hardened killers and schemers from across dimensions—shifted uneasily, their hushed conversations stalling under the weight of Joaquin’s presence. He was an enigma, even among this rogue’s gallery, and Brock’s unwavering faith in him only heightened the tension.

Brock’s grip tightened on Joaquin’s shoulder, his voice dropping to a gritty, conspiratorial edge as he addressed the group. “You’ve all heard the talk. Doom’s coming, and this Earth’s days are numbered. We play it smart, we bow when he takes over, and we come out ahead. Joaquin and me—we’ve seen what happens when you don’t bend the knee.” His eyes darkened, a shadow of memory crossing his face. “It’s a mess you don’t wanna be on the wrong side of.”

Joaquin tilted his head, his wings twitching as his claws flexed, a silent echo of Brock’s words. His crimson eyes gleamed with a flicker of anticipation—whether for blood or obedience, it was hard to tell. Whatever hellish reality they’d escaped, it had drilled survival into their bones, and submission to power was a lesson they’d learned the hard way.

Zemo brushed dust from his sleeves and straightened, his tone dry but probing. “A persuasive case. Though I wonder if your winged hunter here prefers tearing throats to kissing rings.”

Brock smirked, glancing at Joaquin with a glint of pride. “He’s adaptable. Long as there’s something to hunt—or someone—he’s good.”

Joaquin bared his fangs in a brief, savage grin, his wings giving a subtle flap that stirred the air with a soft whoosh. The gesture was a promise, a hint of the chaos he could unleash, Doom’s rule be damned. The ruins around them seemed to pulse with the weight of their presence—Brock’s raw determination, Joaquin’s feral elegance, and the fragile alliance of villains teetering on the edge of unity or betrayal. The sky above darkened, as if sensing the storm brewing below, and Brock and Joaquin stood at its heart, unshaken and entwined, ready for whatever came next.

#my writing #rumtorres #joaquin torres #brock rumlow

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bckybrnss · 13 days ago

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⋆˚࿔ 𝐛𝐜𝐤𝐲𝐛𝐫𝐧𝐬𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐯 .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

hello !! i'm harley, i'm 28, i go by she/her pronouns and i'm both sorry and not sorry for what you'll see on this blog. heavy nsfw & horror elements on this blog so i ask anyone under 18 to turn away now or else you'll be blocked. likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated & encouraged !! requests are open !! masterlist | writing tag | nsfw posts | dividers @cafekitsune | nsfw blog @swt-thng

⋆˚࿔ 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

please be 18+ or 21+ before interacting with this blog in any way. there will be plenty of nsfw and horror elements on this blog so if you’re 18+, follow at your own risk. anyone under 18 or an ageless/blank blog will be blocked immediately.

do not rewrite/repost/rework my writing in any way. please do what everyone else does and write your own stories.

no taglist because in the past it's been too much to keep up with when i'm a fairly slow writer as it is. please don't ask me to be tagged

please be specific with your requests!! it's rare that i can write something off of a vague description, but please be as detailed as possible when it comes to who/what/when/where/why/etc.

if requests are closed, they are closed. anything sent in while my requests are closed will be deleted, but you're free to send it in again when requests re-open.

i write for characters only, no rpf because it's just weird & makes me uncomfortable.

⋆˚࿔ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ who i'll write for | feel free to ask if you don't see a character listed below! these are simply who i have the most muse for.

mcu: bucky barnes, eddie brock/venom, logan howlett

horror: jason voorhees, michael myers, ash williams, billy loomis/ghostface

misc. media: din djarin, javier peña, jack daniels/agent whiskey, dean winchester, joel miller

currently have high muse for: bucky barnes, dean winchester, logan howlett

kinks welcomed: voyuerism, mutual masturbation, toys, edging, praise, dirty talk, creampies, mask, hunter/prey (winter soldier & slashers only), cockwarming, partner swap, sexting/phone sex, choking, body worship, begging, panties, blowjob/deep throat, thigh riding, exhibitionism, spanking, hair pulling, facial, somnophilia, spit kinks i avoid: rape, incest, abuse, ddlg, bdsm, excrements of any kind, pregnancy, anal, anything bordering on extreme sexual harm/violence, cheating, double penetration, dubcon/noncon (sex pollen exempt), free use, humiliation, gangbang

#dean winchester x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #ash williams x reader #ghostface x reader #billy loomis x reader #venom x reader #eddie brock x reader #din djarin x reader #joel miller x reader #javier peña x reader #agent whiskey x reader

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kahuna-burger · 2 years ago

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Yah know, maybe if Brock wasn't riding herd on a sociopathic nursery school class disguised as a Strike team, he'd be less stressed. He relaxes for five minutes and there's dead prisoners Pierce wanted alive, the Asset's bit someone's dick off again, and someone's smuggled hookers into the safehouse and is trying to impress them with how much classified info they know. And he doesn't even get to murder them all, which is his preferred way of relieving stress. (Hey, he never said he wasn't one of the sociopaths.)

Brock might be a ten but he’s stressed about everything all the time and it drives Jack insane but he’s hot so 🤷🏽‍♀️

#brock rumlow #jack rollins #hydra husbands #strike shenanigans #brock is the murderous border collie trying to herd the sociopathic toddlers

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oleksiak-pettersson · 2 years ago

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You made a wish at 11:11 - Elias Pettersson

Inspired by 11:11 by Arkells

Summary: a first date between two longtime friends leads to something even better

You were all done up

but it wasn’t for me.

Elias’ palms felt sweaty. It was October for gods sake! There’s a cold breeze nipping at his frame - he shouldn’t be sweaty.

His heart is racing. Elias shifts his weight back and forth on his feet, he never gets this nervous. He’s an NHL super star, I mean he’s played in front of all kinds of crowds and never caved to the pressure. So why does he feel like he may throw up on the street?

His eyes shift down to the fancy watch adorning his wrist, he is ten minutes early. He’s beginning to understand the male lead in every rom-com he’s ever been forced to watch by various different women in his life - like your life is about to begin but also simultaneously combust.

Elias needs this to go well. He’s been pining after you quietly for months now, maybe even years. If this date doesn’t go well, he’ll still have to see you often and boy does he love to see you.

There’s also the fact that an annoying blonde bearing the name Brock Boeser will roast the shit out of him. He may be one of Elias’ best friends but damn is he unable to let things go. It doesn’t help that you and Bella are quite good friends and the older Canuck is privy to all your “girl talk”, as he’s boasted to Elias before.

“Pull yourself together, Pettersson.” Elias mutters to himself, he’s trying his best to channel his Minnesotan pal and pep-talk his way out of the bordering on anxiety nerves he’s developed waiting outside of your building.

He lets out a deep breath, throwing his head back and screwing his eyes shut. He’s thankful it’s October and beginning to hint at the Vancouver winter to come. There’s no way Elias would be able to hide his nerves in the heat, a loose t-shirt would instantly give away the sweat-induced panic He shoves his hands inside the pockets of his felt Nike quarter-zip. The plush interior of his pockets brings comfort to his fried nerves.

“Hey there handsome,” your voice startles him out of his reverie. “You ready to go?”

Elias turns to greet you, but words fail him once he catches a glimpse of you. His jaw drops slightly and he tries to recover quickly so you don’t notice. You do however and glee flashes over your face.

“You look incredible,” is what finally leaves his lips as he gathers his thoughts.

Cockily, you roll your shoulders back and stand a little taller. The compliment is exactly what you need to boost your confidence to go through with this date. Sure, you and Elias have been friends for a while and run in the same social groups but you’ve never hung out alone before. You’d never thought he’d ask you out and briefly thought he was inviting you to hang out with the group when he did ask. It took both Bella and Brock to convince you to agree.

“Just so you know,” you lilt teasingly, leaning your shoulder into his chest, face inches from his. “I didn’t dress up for you.”

He smirks, you both know you did but he’ll play the game. “Oh yeah?” He quirks an eyebrow to match the playful attitude you’ve adopted. His face moves closer to yours and you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin. He smells delicious and you want nothing more than to press a kiss to his plump pink lips.

You were up at the front

to tap on your feet

I was back at the bar

You had your eyes on the stage

Elias wasn’t usually keen on spending his night at the Roxy, but one of your favourite bands was playing a small show and he bought tickets faster than he’d admit to anyone.

From picking you up to the moment you’d gotten to the bar, he’d kept you close to his body. Elias had kept a hand on your lower back with you tucked into his side. Somehow you’d manage to make it several blocks without him being noticed by loving Canucks fans.

Upon entering the bar, he’d inquired about your drink preference before ushering you to the front of the stage.

The band hadn’t appeared yet, but the music was blasting through the speakers. The disco ball illuminated the dance floor. Elias watched as light danced off your face. You were at the front of the stage, tapping your feet to the beat while the girl beside you was gesturing wildly to you.

A throat clearing behind Elias caused him to turn around. The bartender hands him two drinks, both alcoholic, and Elias hands his credit card over to start a tab. He’s going to stick to only the one drink but he wants to treat you to however many you want.

He’s cautious as he moves through the crowd with both hands full. It’s not as busy as he’s seen it before but he still has to dodge the occasional group of people to protect his drinks from spilling.

The smile he receives from you upon gallantly handing you your drink makes his heart flutter. The lighting hits your eyes causes electricity to run down his spine.

Elias looks good, having shed his sweater at the coat check and rolling up the sleeves of his button up. He’s wearing the one you complimented one time. The moment you saw it, you blushed to yourself - he’d remembered.

You switch your drink in your hands, and slip your free hand into Elias’s. His hand dwarves yours, warming your icy palm. Using his grip on your hand, Elias pulls you closer.

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, eyes fluttering up at the Swede. You want to kiss him, but the music stops and you both turn to the stage.

The girl you were chatting with is gone when the spell between you and Elias ends. She made away quickly upon realising that she no longer existed in the little world between you and your beau.

You made a wish at 11:11

I held your hips at 12:34

There was a kiss just waiting to happen

A cab was calling outside the door

Even if the bar wasn’t packed, you would be pressed against Elias. The moment the band started playing, he took position behind you. He made the perfect barrier from others; it left you the perfect amount of room to lose yourself in the music.

Occasionally you’ll turn around to serenade him sweetly. His blue eyes haven’t left your frame in the hour since the band went on. He could care less about the ongoings around him, all that mattered in this moment was you.

You whip around quickly, grabbing his wrist and twisting it to your view. Elias chuckles, amused by your actions. Your eyelashes flutter as you inspect the hands of the watch. He’s blown away by the smile you bear upon seeing exactly what you’re looking for.

Seamlessly, the band switches from the fast pace song to a slower boxier beat. Your body sways almost automatically at the switch. Elias’ arm is still in your grip as you move.

He leans in close to you, so you can hear him over the band. “What are you doing, älskling?” His lips caress your ear, and you shiver at the feeling.

“It’s 11:11, I’m making a wish.” You announce back, before going quiet and closing your eyes.

It’s clear you’re mentally trying to wish something and Elias smiles at the way your eyes crinkle with emphasis. He finds a warmth in his chest at how cute you look focused. “You’re cute, y’know?” He murmurs, eyes filled with fondness.

He notices an eyelash under your eye, and reaches his thumb up to brush it away. A shiver runs through your body at his touch, his hands are soft and warm.

You want to kiss him, he wants you to kiss him.

It’s a little later when you spin around. A slow song has brought the joint down a couple levels and most people are coupled off around you swaying back and forth. “Dance with me?” You ask, drawing his attention to you.

Elias had been glaring down a man dancing to your left. This guy had been trying to get closer and closer to you as the night progressed and the Swede was having none of it.

Not usually prone to jealously, it was a weird feeling for Elias. But he’s more than happy to wrap his arms around your waist.

You snuggle into his chest, letting your body fall against his. His arms are strong and you can feel his biceps against the small of your back. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, head falling against his collarbone.

Elias begins to sway you back and forth, his heart is beating steady and its rhythmic bumping lulls you into a relaxed state.

Elias is the first to break the silence you’ve created. “I'm having a really great time with you.”

The sentiment lingers in the air for a moment as you take in the words spoken. You smile against his clavicle. The same thing has crossed your mind several times tonight.

“Me too,” your eyes lift up to meet his. His smile grows and he leans down to meet you, your eyes shut as you purse your lips.

The sudden vibration of his phone against both of your legs startle you away from each other. You're at the point where you could scream, Elias feels the exact same way.

He’s quick to pick the phone out of his Jean pockets. The display reads “Yellow Cab Co.”, and he brings the device to his ear.

“Yeah, we’ll be right out,” he murmurs, his other hand leaving your hip to plug his ear that he’s not holding his phone to.

Upon hanging up, he clumsily shoves his phone back into his pocket. His hands come to rest on your hips. The lights dance around the room, music still blasting and people around you dancing.

“That’s the cab,” he says, ducking his head down to your ear. “I thought they’d take longer.”

You just nod. He leads you to the coat check and keeps his grip on your hips as you make small talk with the coat check girl.

You check his wrist watch and the time reads 12:34. A song you like comes on and he’s quick to sway you back on forth as you watch the coat check girl flick through jacket after jacket searching for yours.

I said: “if you go home

And get on the phone

And tell your girlfriends about me

I’ll go home

And sleep on my own

And dream of a girl named Lonnie”

Elias kept his hand on your lower back the entire walk out of the club. He’d even opened the door of the cab and helped you in.

His hands had been smooth as they’d made sure your seatbelt was secure.

When the taxi pulled up in front of your place, he was quick to get out and run around the car to your door. Elias held your hand as you exited the warmth of the cab into the brisk October night. He lets go briefly to pay the van driver and thank him enthusiastically, you swear you see him hand the driver an 100% tip and it makes you smile.

Your head looks up and you spot a star or two freed from the cloud cover. The moon is bright and illuminates the streets around you.

Elias walks you to the door of your building, his hand scratching at the back of his neck. It’s the first time tonight his nerves have been revealed to you.

“I had a great time tonight,” you smile, moving your hand to grab his. The smile Elias sends you back causes his eyes to crinkle.

“Me too,” he says, finally cupping your cheeks in his larger hands. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Finally,” you chuckle, eyes fluttering shut as you slip into your tiptoes to meet his lips.

They’re as plump as you thought they’d be. Your hands slip around his neck as he moves his head to push his lips further against yours.

His lips purse and you take the opportunity to twist the hair at the nape of his neck in your fingers. He smiles against your mouth.

When you pull away, you’re both breathing heavily. You rest your forehead against his, smiling. “Let’s do this again.” You say as you break away from him. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

He waits until he knows you’re safely in the building before he begins the short walk to his own. He shoots Brock a quick text saying he’d dropped you off safely. To which he gets a thumbs up in response.

You’re on cloud nine as you make it up to your apartment. Every moment of your date is replaying in your head. It went perfectly.

As you hang your keys up, you slip your purse off your shoulder and sneak your phone out of the bag to check your notifications. Elias had agreed to handle all the logistics so you hadn’t touched your phone once that night.

The second you pick it up, it illuminates with Bella’s contact photo. You answer quickly, throwing the speaker phone on as you move about your apartment.

“Tell me everything,” she squeals down the phone, you can hear Brock in the background shuffling closer to the phone.

“Hi Bells, hi Brock,” you say teasingly, “I had a great night thanks for asking. How was yours?”

Your cat is quick to approach you and nuzzle his head against your legs. You lean down and scratch between his ears.

“Yeah yeah, we had a great night,” Bella’s attitude is clear even through the phone. You know she’s rolling her eyes at you. “How was your date?”

“Petey had a good time. Did you?” Brock adds and your heart flutters.

“I had the best time. I wish he kissed me sooner though.” You plop yourself on the couch, your cat following suit to place himself in your lap and pure loudly.

“YOU KISSED???” Bella yells and you almost toss the phone across the room to save your eardrums. Brock’s chuckle is also heard. “Did you know about this?” She must be talking to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, he texted me earlier.” The Minnesotan drawls back.

You can’t help the squeal that falls out of your mouth at his admission. The butterflies in your stomach are emphasised when the aforementioned swede appears in your notifications having texted you.

It’s a simple text saying he made it home safe and you reply saying you’re glad and you had a great time. You text back and forth quickly, heart rate increasing.

“Um, hello? Y/N are you there?” Bella’s voice causes you to focus on your phone call once again.

Meanwhile, Elias is laying in his bed. He’s contently texting you back and he feels on top of the world. He smiles to himself when you bid him a good night and sweet dreams.

He types up a quick response before plugging his phone in for the night and turning over in his bed.

The duvet is plush and warm, his pillow perfectly fitting against his head. The weight of the day seems to slip off his shoulders as he relaxes into the mattress. The darkness of the room allows him to fall into unconsciousness.

The images behind his eyes take form immediately. He’s in a house, a kitchen to be more specific. He can see into the living room where a cartoon plays on the TV.

There’s toys scattered around everywhere and Elias turns back to the kitchen counter where he’s making coffee.

He picks up the cup and walks his sock-covered feet into the living room where a toddler girl is sitting on the couch, sippy cup in hand.

“Papa coffee?” The little blonde asks, blue eyes wide with curiosity. She looks like a mix of you and Elias, she’s clad in Canucks themed pyjamas and her hair is a mess.

“Yeah, Papa made coffee. Baby brother kept mama and papa up all night.” He explains delicately, free hand reaching out to tame her unruly hair.

“Mama ‘sleep?” The little girl inquires, moving up the couch to sit against her father.

“Mama is still asleep yeah, and she’s got baby brother with her.” He croons in response, leaning over to kiss her head.

“Lonnie love papa,” she replies, eyes focusing back on the tv as she brings her sippy cup to her mouth.

“Papa loves you too Lonnie.”

Elias wakes up the next morning happier than he’s ever been. Even more when he sees your text.

Ohhh oh ohh ohhh, I knew from the beginning

Ohhh oh ohh ohhh, it was you from the beginning.

#elias pettersson #gimme gimme gimme an elias after midnight #vancouver canucks #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #elias pettersson imagine #kylie writes hockey #elias pettersson x reader

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