#hockey is such a silly sport i love when they acknowledge it

[medievalthymes]

love it in hockey when a team comes off a penalty and the arena’s technical team plays the mario level up sound. it’s so cute

[diorsluv]

infrunami (lh⁴³)

❝ in which you’ve always been in love with your childhood best friend, but he would always be the right person at the wrong time ❞

wc: 5.8k

warnings: god there’s so much angst, reader is kinda inconsistent, mentions of blood/injury, mutual pining, idiots in love, running away from “rejection”, reader is touchy with jack and besties with quinn, no use of y/n, if i missed any lmk!!

notes ) when i tell you this took me WEEKS and WEEKS just to compile a simple 5k fic.. i think it’s kinda obvious where i stopped and started back up but i tried to blend it in as best i could!! this will be a two parter simply because i was draining myself trying to drag it on, so stay tuned (might take a while)! AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST thank you to my wonderful, amazing, supportive wife @dior-roses for beta reading this (i was terrified)

As a kid, you always moved wherever the Hughes moved—it was something about the bond between your fathers that couldn’t keep your families apart for more than a week. Regardless of how many times you moved, you never felt alone. You and Luke were in the same grade, and Quinn and Jack were always looking out for you two, so isolation was never a concern for you.

Although you were inseparable with Luke, Quinn had always been your best friend. The four-year age difference between the two of you was almost invisible, and throughout your youth, you would always find yourself in his room, staring at the ceiling as you talked about everything. 

You would tell him about your silly school girl crushes, and he would ramble to you about hockey and all the petty drama that happened around him. In fact, he was the reason you learned hockey in the first place. Your father could never keep your attention on the sport for over five minutes, but the way Quinn talked about it so lovingly was what motivated you to step on the ice. 

Your love for hockey spurred your relationship with not only Quinn, but also Luke and Jack, to grow closer than ever. Every day in school, you and Luke would gush about the games you had watched the night prior, and every day after school, all four of you would head off to practice for your respective club teams. If you weren’t already inseparable from the way your families were bound together by an invisible rope, then you were forever connected through hockey. 

You quit after a few years to pursue more academic routes, but the sport never left your spirit. There were many occasions where the boys would refuse to play if you weren’t there, simply because your presence was the only thing to motivate them to get on the ice, especially if they were having a bad week.

Somehow, though, along the way, you caught feelings. Feelings that were far too heavy to have just surfaced from the depths of your heart. No, what you felt for Luke seemed to have always been creeping just between the line of what was certain and what was unknown. There was no other explanation as to why you couldn’t handle being in the same room as him without being on the verge of exploding. There was no other reason as to why you could spend months on end with either of his brothers but couldn’t last one minute sitting beside him. 

As soon as you came to that revelation, you were done for. It was over. You would rather die than acknowledge the feelings you caught for the boy that had been by your side since you were born. Because of that, you spent all your time with your best friend and his younger brother, and both your families sensed the shift as soon as it happened.

Especially Luke.

Oh, the poor boy, his heart dropped into his stomach when he realized you were avoiding him. You held your breath every time he stepped into the same room as you, let alone when he tried to stand remotely close to you. You diverted your attention away from him as much as you could, and the boy you once knew as your other half now seemed to be universes away. 

It was your doing, but in a way, it was his. How dare he make you fall for him? It wasn’t fair. Not to you, and definitely not to him. It wasn’t fair how he could make you fold in seconds with the way he looked at you from the other side of the room but simultaneously have a girl wrapped around his arm trying to take all his attention away from you. He was the only boy on your mind, but he always managed to push you to the darkest parts of his brain, putting you on hold when the more important girls were right in front of him. 

If only you knew. 

Quinn bounded down the stairs of your lake house, which was conveniently right next to the Hughes’, with an old framed photo in his hand. “Hah! I was right!” His exclamations took your attention away from the pasta you were cooking as you now turned to his self-righteous figure. “You would never let go of that stupid plushie.”

The two of you were arguing over what (and who) you were and were not inseparable with just prior to his search for the picture, and he claimed there were multiple photos of you hugging your favorite Elmo plushie. There was a mutual agreement that Luke was one of the things—or rather, people—you couldn’t fathom to be away from, but neither you nor Quinn had to verbally confirm it. There was no need. 

And, to be completely honest, Quinn had barely spoken about his youngest brother throughout the time you’d been spending at the lake houses. A few years back, you had reluctantly told him how you felt about Luke, and ever since then, he’d made it his mission to make you feel the most comfortable you could possibly be whilst sharing a connected lake house with the boy you’ve loved since you were children. The eldest saw the way you tensed up when you recognized his brother’s footsteps creaking down the stairs when it came time to eat breakfast, and he sure as hell saw the way your eyes blew wide whenever you accidentally made contact with him. 

It scared you how much Quinn seemed to notice about you, especially since he and his brothers were all busy with their demanding careers that left little to no time to be tending to some childhood friend who was stuck with a crush on the most recently debuted boy. Yes, he was still your best friend (that much hadn’t changed since your childhood), but all you could do was FaceTime each other, and even then, it was difficult to find time. It was the same with Jack; sometimes, they would be too tired for practice; other times, they would be exhausted from a home game and possibly frustrated had they lost; and most of the time, they weren’t even home, so the time difference, albeit miniscule, was still difficult to navigate considering you were a busy person too. 

That meant that you met up as much as you could and you stuck by each other’s side until you were forced apart by the demands of being a professional hockey player. All that time together when you were younger meant you struggled to be without each other as you got older—maybe your parents should’ve realized that, but then again, it was probably their intention. 

“Okay, I did let go of it. Multiple times, actually,” you refuted with a small frown, the expression on your face practically meaningless as your best friend laughed. It only egged him on further, evoking a complaint from your lips. “Quinn! It’s not funny!” 

“I mean, it kinda is.” He struggled to stifle his laughter as he rounded the kitchen island to stand beside you. Your hand mindlessly dragged the wooden spoon through the soft noodles floating around in the boiling hot water, and he wondered how your skin wasn’t burning. Gently removing your hand from the utensil and replacing it with his own, the eldest Hughes boy continued his teasing once he looked at your still-upset face. “You’re such a kid sometimes, you know that?”

Your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head in annoyance. Quinn always said that to you. Always. He never failed to address you as ‘kid,’ and no matter what you did, he always managed to bring it back to how you ‘were such a kid.’ You huffed, “You’re so fucking annoying, Quinny. I’m gonna go piss off Jack. Keep cooking, and if you burn the house down, you’re paying for all of it.” 

“You’re forgetting I’m a millionaire.” His laughter filled your ears once again, and your only response was the finger you lifted at him over your shoulder.

After walking out of the kitchen of your own lake house, you took a few strides over to the sliding doors that led to the connected portion of your two homes. Your father and Jim had built it together, way back when all four of you were far too young to understand what normal lake houses were supposed to look like. It was essentially a screened-in sunroom overlooking the absolute beauty of a lake out front. They managed to hook up a large, flat-screen television on the wall, throwing a couple bean bag chairs and a rug into the room. The rest of the furnishing was left completely up to you and the Hughes brothers, so the furniture would change up every few visits. 

Oftentimes, you would find Luke there, just sitting against the one wall that had a bit of a bump-out. He liked the way it felt against his back, like it actually supported him compared to the fluffy chairs that laid in the middle of the room. Whether he be on his phone, playing video games, or reading a book that was required for summer class, he would always be in the sunroom. The floor directly before the bump-out was much more worn compared to the rest of the room, the discolored wood showing just how often the youngest Hughes would find himself in the confines of the area.

There were many times when Luke would flee to the sunroom in his times of need, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. If anyone were to try to enter the room and speak to him, he wouldn’t respond. He would only ever talk to you. You were the one and only person to talk him out of his thoughts, the only one who could convince him to leave the room. Those nights were comprised of him refusing to leave your bed and whining if you got up in the middle of the night. 

You missed it. 

But you weren’t kids anymore. And, again, it was your fault you weren’t close anymore. You deliberately distanced yourself from him. 

After pulling yourself away from your own thoughts, you tugged the Hughes’ sliding door open, the smell of freshly grilled shrimp welcoming you into the cozy house.

“Hey, sweetie,” Ellen’s soothing voice called out to you, smiling at you from her place at the kitchen sink. “How’s the pasta going?” The sound of the running water could barely be heard over the hockey game playing on the television, your father entertaining Jim and his youngest son with light chirps towards the losing team. 

You could feel Luke’s eyes set on you. Shrugging, you replied, “I told Quinny to take over and not burn the house down.” 

This was a regular occurrence whenever you came back to the lake for the break. You, your mother and Ellen would split up the food duties so that there was a lot of food but didn’t take too much time to cook everything. Quinn and Jack would help out a bit, but they would only ever take on the physical tasks. Luke used to help out when you were children, but ever since the distance you wedged between the two of you, he stopped helping out as much. 

You looked around for Jack, trying your hardest to avoid Luke’s gaze in your search for his older brother. Ellen had now returned to her cooking, and the fathers were too invested in their conversation for you to intervene. Your eyes were darting everywhere but at your ex-best friend, and as soon as you made eye contact, you couldn’t look away.

It was too difficult.

It was so stupid.

It wasn’t fair. 

His hazel eyes were too pretty. The way he looked at you made it hard to deny him the satisfaction of giving him attention. He looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon, but you couldn’t see that. You were blinded by your abundance of self-deprecating thoughts to notice. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice being drowned out due to the other activities occurring throughout the house. You mouthed the same word back, fighting the urge to walk over to him and apologize for avoiding him, apologize for distancing yourself from the one person you know you could never live without. If you allowed yourself to break, you would never forgive yourself. He doesn’t like you back, you told yourself. You can’t embarrass yourself.

So, instead of going with your heart, you went with your brain and made your way upstairs. If Jack wasn’t downstairs, then he had to have been upstairs doing God knows what. 

“Jack?” You called out, running your hand along the railing of the staircase once you neared the top. 

“In here!” His muffled voice came through the door to his bedroom, and you’ve seen him in enough compromising positions to the point where you couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to be cautious. Once you opened the door, you were met with four gazes planted straight on you. You suddenly felt exposed despite your thick pajamas and only felt some sort of reassurance when you found Jack’s eyes. “Look who finally came up here!”

All four boys sat on Jack’s bed with controllers in their hands, the game on the TV now paused as their attention focused solely on you. You knew Trevor, Alex, and Cole, but you hadn’t seen them in so long that it felt awkward. “Oh, uh, hey. Quinn’s probably gonna burn my house down and I didn’t wanna be down there with Lukey, so,” you trailed off, pursing your lips. 

“You’re still on that?” Alex questioned with furrowed eyebrows, placing the controller in his lap. You cocked your head to the side, not quite understanding what the boy was talking about. He continued, “I thought you got over him, like, months ago.”

Right. You had forgotten all about your accidental drunk confession the last time Jack’s friends were over. Last summer, your revelation was fresh on your mind, and you and Luke were still as inseparable as ever. His friends had also visited the lake house at the same time everyone else was staying over, so it made for a ton of chaos and little to no privacy. 

Luke and his friends had left the house to go out, and for the first time, you stayed behind. Trevor and Cole were sitting at the fire pit outside, beers in their hands as they discussed the upcoming camps they were to attend. You were on your fifth drink, and although Jack was keeping an eye on you, he hadn’t noticed how you had accidentally walked into the bathroom while Alex was in the process of throwing up. 

In the midst of your tipsy daze and the fact that it just so happened to be Luke’s bathroom, you called out for him. “Luke? Is that you? You know I’m always telling you not to drink that much, stupid.” You used your foot to shut the door behind you as you placed your drink onto the counter. 

Alex, confused but sobering up, looked up at you with puffy eyes. Only then did he notice how you were much more than tipsy. 

Your gaze was blurry and your words were beginning to slur, “If I didn’t like you so much, maybe I would be more mad at you. I don’t know why I like you, anyway. You’re always being so stupid, ‘cause you can’t see that all those girls are only ever using you for your brother or your body. They’re so mean. And I’m your best friend, not them! You always ditch me when you find another girl, and then they say shit about me behind my back. I don’t like them. What do you even see in them? God, what do I even see in you?

“My stomach hurts. I think I’m thinking about this too much. Or maybe I’m thinking about you too much. I hate you so much, Lukey, but I can’t ever hate you. You’re too pretty. This is so unfair and my head is pounding. Oh, God, I’m gonna throw up. Move over.” After your little monologue, which was definitely not directed towards the person on the receiving end, you were quick to fall to the ground beside the toilet and dip your head past the ceramic seat. 

Alex brought his right hand up to flush the toilet so you didn’t accidentally stuff your face in a load of his vomit, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on your back. “‘m not Luke, but you’re safe with me.” He continued his motions throughout the five-minute duration of your illness, bringing his hand up to massage your head once you were sure you were done.

Your head was pounding and your ears began to ring, but you were visibly more sober compared to how you were a few minutes ago. Barely able to lift your head, you thanked your friend with a weak smile.

He only returned your expression and brought you up to your feet, leading you out of the restroom and towards Jack’s room. It obviously wasn’t the best option to bring you to Luke’s room, albeit being the default room after a long night, so his older brother’s bedroom would have to do. 

Alex laid you down onto the mattress and tucked you in, lightly patting your cheek as you thanked him once more. He only chuckled and squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Anytime.”

And then you were left alone in the confines of Jack’s room.

You chuckled awkwardly at the memory, shaking your head in response. “Nope. Still on it.” Your hands brought themselves up to your thighs, rubbing your palms against your thick pants in an attempt to wipe away the tension in the room.

Trevor and Cole were aware of your feelings as well; you were sure everyone in the house knew. They only shot you sympathetic smiles, their priorities set on finishing the NHL 23 game plastered all over the screen. 

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“We believe in you.”

Their words, no offense, meant nothing to you. They were great people to hang around, but they weren’t the best guys to turn to when you were in a time of need, especially since you weren’t very close to them. They had their own issues that didn’t concern you, and your issues were ever so far from their minds.

After a few beats of silence, the mood of the room began to slowly eat away at you. If you were to open your mouth and bite down, you might as well have taken a chunk out of the thick tension lingering in the room. It was even more awkward knowing that Luke was much closer to them compared to you, and you knew they would let things slip eventually. 

Not that he didn’t already know, though.

The four boys exchanged glances with one another, shrugging in unison before resuming their gameplay. You took it as your cue to stay, seeing as they didn’t seem bothered by your presence, and you were much more comfortable in Jack’s room than you were downstairs. 

Allowing yourself to flop onto the boy’s soft mattress, you fished your phone out from the pocket of your pajama pants, finding solace in the way the friends laughed with each other. You remained like that for about twenty minutes before Jack beckoned you over to the edge of his bed, where he was sitting, to ask you for your opinion on something.

After dishing him your thoughts—which barely seemed to help him—you stayed snug at the foot of the bed, extending your legs out so that they lay atop his. It was one of your more typical positions when spending time with Jack whilst he was playing video games. Whether it be with his friends or with his brothers, you always found yourself comfortably overlapping your limbs with him, and today was no exception. 

You both shuffled around a bit until you found a comfortable position. You sat with your legs resting on his thighs and your head laying on his shoulder; he sat with his forearms resting on your left leg. The others paid no mind to your odd positioning, their minds too preoccupied with the competitiveness flooding through the screen. 

So you stayed like that for a while. For a long while, actually. You only lifted your head when the sound of light knocking echoed against Jack’s door once more, and soon after, you found his youngest brother cracking the door open and peeking through. 

His eyes had yet to land on your figure. “Hey, Mom’s looking for—”

Before he could utter your name, he looked you dead in the eye. 

“Oh.” He went silent for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between you and his brother. Him, of all people, should be the least surprised to see you cuddled up with Jack. “You.”

There was a certain poison in his tone that struck you right where it hurt the most. It was the way he spat through gritted teeth and looked at you with so much indifference. (It was really a façade, but you were too entranced under his gaze to realize that he could never bring himself to hate you.) The whole room seemed to shift uncomfortably with the way the tension flowed between you and Luke. 

No matter how hard you tried to mask your pain and your desperation for him to notice you, you would never be able to hide how you really felt. Not with him. 

“You can tell her I’ll be right down,” you murmured, slowly moving your legs from Jack’s lap, but before you could even finish your sentence, Luke disappeared as quickly as he came. When you looked back in the door frame, all you were met with was a blank wall and the faint image of where the boy stood before.

You could feel Jack lightly pat your thigh, trying his hardest to support you with the little attention he was diverting toward you. With a small sigh, you pushed yourself off the mattress and wiped your palms against the fabric of your pants, reluctantly leaving the room. Alex wished you good luck, but his fleeting words flew straight through one ear and out the other.��

Downstairs, the fathers were still loud as ever, and the sizzling in the kitchen now turned into the delicious aroma of freshly cooked lunch. Quinn’s voice echoed up the staircase, and you could hear how he attempted to entertain his mom as she waited for you to come back down. 

As soon as your feet hit the bottom floor, you could already sense Quinn’s eyes on you. He looked like he was being held hostage, and you could argue that he was begging you for help. He wasn’t the only Hughes boy with his gaze locked on you, but he was the only one you would give attention to.

“Oh, look! Just who you were looking for, Mom,” the eldest boy managed to divert the attention away from him and towards you. You scowled at him just before Ellen turned around, plastering on a smile as you walked towards them.

You gently placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “I was just up in Jack’s room. Luke said you were looking for me?”

“Oh, that’s right! Could you grab that fancy set of plates from the cabinet in your house, sweetie? It’s too high to reach for any of us parents, and you know Lukey and Quinn don’t help out with anything anymore,” Ellen spoke, evoking an argument from her oldest son. It only took one glare from her to shut him up, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his complacence. 

You nodded your head with a grin, still fighting more giggles as you swerved past Quinn. He lunged at you, bringing his hands up to your waist as if he was going to tickle you, but you managed to jump just out of his reach before continuing on your journey to grab the plates Ellen wanted. 

Once you made it back into your house, you dragged a chair up to the counter and climbed onto the cushioned seat, opening the cabinet and setting your gaze on the fake fine china. You only grabbed a few at a time, not wanting to break anything in fear of your mother getting mad at you. Eventually, you had gotten down to the last few plates, and once you had them in your hands, you closed the cabinet and stepped down from the chair.

Perhaps you should’ve been more aware of how high you were, because somehow, the bottom plate smashed against the countertop and shattered in your hands, causing you to let out a small scream. The porcelain had broken into small pieces, cutting into your palms, but you managed to place the reset of the plates down before beginning to worry about the amount of cuts you had on your hands. 

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, looking at the floor to see how many shards were scattered around the floor. Your only form of protection on the soles of your feet were the fluffy socks you were wearing, and the distance between the pieces was far enough to where you could step past them. 

As soon as you deemed it safe to walk normally, you swiveled on your heel to analyze the messy situation you found yourself in. You definitely should have been more careful, and now you had to clean up all the small plate shards with cuts in your hands. Fuck, your hands were still bleeding, and it hadn’t even occurred to you that it was now dripping down your arms. 

All you could do was stand in place, shock still coursing in your veins. The sink on the island was in the middle of the plate murder, and you didn’t want to risk accidentally stepping on something sharp. Before you could even begin to make your way to the half-bath near the kitchen, you heard footsteps bounding through the sunroom. The glass door slid open far too aggressively—so much so that you thought it would shatter, too—and you assumed it was Quinn coming to check on you.

The plate breaking was loud enough to be heard from the other house, especially with the connected room, but you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal for him. You were usually trustworthy enough to not accidentally hurt yourself, but this was a prime example of how you really weren’t.

You didn’t want any questions to be asked, and because it was Quinn, you knew you would get made fun of before being helped. “Don’t worry—”

“Holy shit, are you okay?” The voice that spoke up was not Quinn. 

Immediately snapping your head around to look at the boy standing there, frozen, your frown contorted into a grimace. “Luke—shit—hey,” you trailed off, unsure of what to say to him. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine, I was just being stupid and—”

“What the fuck happened? You’re gonna bleed out if you don’t wash your hands and wrap them up.” His heavy footsteps inched closer and closer until he was standing right in front of you, taking your forearms into his calloused hands and inspecting how bad your injuries were. “C’mon, we gotta wash this off.” 

Luke led you to the bathroom as if it was his own house, running the tap and allowing the water to get most of the red liquid off your hands before taking a clean towel and gently tapping the rest off. 

He was unbearably gentle with you. You felt ashamed to think of how fast your heart was beating at such a simple gesture; as if him caring about you meant anything except the fact that growing up together meant you both cared for each other when someone was hurt. Sighing to hide your true feelings, you slowly took your hands away from his touch, “Luke, I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to do this.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean? Of course I’m going to clean you up if you hurt yourself.” He immediately took your hands back into his and resumed his actions, quickly grabbing ointment from the cabinet above the toilet. Squeezing out a dollop of the cream, he soothingly rubbed it against your wounds with a focused frown adorning his features.

You took the chance to admire him candidly. He was so worried about you, and it was so cute. He wouldn’t even let you take care of yourself because he wanted to do it for you, and he was so serious about it. You had always thought his focused face was adorable, even when you were kids, but as you grew up, it only got cuter and cuter. Fuck, you were so gone for him.

You hadn’t even realized you were staring until he looked up at you and immediately looked back down at your hands. He cleared his throat awkwardly and questioned, “Does it hurt?” 

“Hm?” You snapped yourself out of your trance, your face heating up with the unexpected eye contact. “Oh, uh, no. It doesn’t hurt.” The pain you were feeling came more from your heart than it did from your body. It hurt to be in such close proximity to the boy you longed so deeply for. The awkward silence floating between the two of you pained you even more. 

Luke nodded and rummaged through the drawers until he found gauze, taking great care to wrap it around your hands without causing you too much discomfort. When he finished, all he did was usher you out of the bathroom with a hand on your lower back, turning off the lights without so much as a word. 

Only when you entered the kitchen did a small mumble leave the boy’s lips. “Try to be more careful next time, okay? Can’t have you going around injuring yourself and shit, or you’re gonna make me—us worry too much.” He cleared his throat after his slip-up, hoping you didn’t hear what he said. You did. “Oh, and Jack told me to let you know the guys are throwing a party tonight. He said to invite you so you could buy cups and shit, but you’re kinda . . . banged up right now.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go grab stuff from the store later—”

“No!” Luke exclaimed, his eyes blowing wide once he realized how loud he protested your suggestion. “I mean, no, it’s okay. I’ll go get the stuff. You shouldn’t drive with your hands all cut up like that. They don't care who buys what.”

You blinked at him. He was acting so weird; it was almost like he cared about you. But it didn’t matter. The others were throwing a party, which meant there were going to be tons of girls all over him, and it wouldn’t be right for you to get mad if you were the one who caused the rift between you two.

With a shrug, you silently agreed to his proposal and turned to grab the remaining set of plates still sitting on the counter. You couldn’t even take two steps before Luke was already sliding ahead of you and taking the ceramic platters into his arms. “Luke, you really don’t have to do all of this. I’m fine, look,” you showed him your hands, front and back, to try and convince him to let you do something. 

“No, you’re hurt. And I wouldn’t be a good best friend if I made you injure yourself more.”

Best friend.

Two very opposing emotions coursed through your veins. On one hand, the term ‘best friend’ still sent a pang through your chest, knowing you would never be more to him than just a best friend. But on the other hand, it relieved you to know that he still considered you close enough to be his best friend. 

God, you were such a mess. You were running away from him in fear of rejection, but then you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. What the hell was wrong with you?

Eventually, the two of you made it back into his house, the boy announcing your arrival and placing the plates down onto the dining table. He immediately found his spot back on the couch in between the fathers like before, and you instantly got hounded by both the mothers’ questions being launched at you all at once.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you grimaced. You attempted to pull your hands away from her inspecting gaze, but she brought them right back to her face. “Mom, it doesn’t even hurt anymore! Lukey already put medicine on it and wrapped them up, anyway!” You were growing impatient, and your complaints slowly turned into whines. 

Thankfully, as soon as she heard Luke’s nickname leave your mouth, she dropped your hands back to your sides and grinned widely at you.

“Well, then! I’m sure you’re just fine, aren’t you?”

You sighed begrudgingly. “Yes, Mom.” You were just happy she stopped nagging you.

What you didn’t know was that she and Ellen were in pain watching their two children stay so far away from each other for such a long time. The parents always thought you two would have confessed by the time you graduated high school, but you were in college and Luke was having an amazing rookie season. It clearly didn’t work out the way they thought it would have.

You also didn’t know that Luke’s heart practically exploded out of his chest when he heard you use his nickname so nonchalantly. He always overheard you addressing him as Lukey to his brothers, but you never did it when you knew he was listening. It was almost as if saying it made your mouth run dry. 

And it did.

It finally came time to eat lunch, and your stomach was threatening to growl before you all sat down at the table. Trevor, Alex, and Cole decided to eat at a restaurant instead, encouraging Jack to eat with your families rather than hanging out with them. So he stayed.

There was a specific order in which you sat. There were five members of the Hughes family and three members of your family, meaning there were eight seats total; the rectangular table fit the usual number of people perfectly. The fathers would sit on either end of the table, and the mothers would sit to their right. You and Jack sat next to your mothers, while Luke sat beside you and Quinn beside Jack. 

It was a routine. It never changed. Ever.

Not when Jack kissed you on New Years. He still had to sit opposite to you at the table. Not when you and Luke had the biggest verbal fight in your life, leaving you both with scars on your knees. And especially not when you finally recognized the feelings you had for your best friend.

And as you sat in your spot, with Luke’s thigh pressed against yours, you realized that maybe loving him wasn’t all that bad.

— diorsluv 2024

[troubatrain]

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets. 

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you. 

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter. 

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

[csykora]

so I have tentative plans to go see the bruins play at st. louis this upcoming season, and it’ll be my first hockey game ever (yay!!) what do I need to know, in general and I’m going to an away game? (even dumb basic advice is so appreciative, i love watching hockey on tv but like I know nothing at all about actually attending games)

Congratulations! That’s a fun match-up and St. Louis is a great hockey town to visit.

You are not dumb for not knowing something yet. This is going to be a great chance for you to start learning how to do it, and you’re absolutely capable of figuring it out.

Some tools:

Prep:

Read the Enterprise Center’s A-Z Guide and map so you have a sense where you’re sitting, what personal items you’re allowed to bring, where bathrooms are, and any accommodations you might need.

Think about where you’ll be staying in St. Louis: 

How much time should you budget for getting to the Center, waiting in line, etc? 

Do you want to eat before the game, during, after? 

How tired will you be after and how are you getting back to where you’re staying?

Think about a couple of “if” scenarios.

 If you missed your transportation, what would you do?

 If you got lost in the Center?

 If you got super hungry, tired, overwhelmed by the noise and the lights during the game? 

You don’t need a Disaster Plan. The solutions can just be, “I would ask somebody for help” or “I would leave early and that would be perfectly fine,” but it helps to rehearse a little to yourself.

Don’t plan down to the minute, but prep enough that if you need something, you’ll feel comfortable finding it.

Expect:

echoing noise lights, sitting still in weird arena seats, temperatures you can’t control, waiting in lines and waiting through stoppages and having to catch a lot in replays on the jumbotron. 

No matter where you are, there is not going to be a perfect unobstructed view. You’re going to see less of the ice from the angle of your seats and also more of the background stuff like line changes and squabbles in the defensive zone, because the TV camera won’t be helpfully following the puck for you. 

It’ll look different than it does on TV, so give yourself some time to settle in and don’t panic if you can’t follow everything at first.

The puck is gonna be very, very small. 

Interact:

When you get to your seat, acknowledge the people around you and then curate your interactions with them. Nod or smile at them, and then decide how the next three hours are gonna go.

You are all together, in public, offline. You actually signed up to be together with other people, and that means there’s a social contract.

I think you should try talking with them, because game-going fans are often great, and it’s a great way to learn. They bring different ways of understanding and describing the game than you’ll hear on the internet, and most of them are at the game because on some level they like sharing the experience with others.

You don’t need to say, “I’ve never done this before, I feel dumb.” Try saying things like, “Hey, what was your first game like?” or “I like your Tarasenko t-shirt! What’re some things I should know to watch out for with him?” before the game. Try listening to other fans reactions during the game, what they think about all the calls and what plays they get excited about, and think about how that compares to your reactions.

That said, if they don’t want to talk, don’t make them talk. 

If you don’t want to talk, don’t. Politely acknowledge their comments without adding more to the conversation they’re trying to start until they get the cue, or say, 

“hey, I’d like to just focus on the game right now,” 

“hey, I’m glad you guys are having fun, I’d appreciate if you can keep the volume down during the action. Thanks!” 

or “hey dude, this is my knee space.”

At some point during the game you will have to ask to squeeze by to go to the restroom, or be asked to move your knee, or have to ask a dad in front of you to get his kids to sit down. Existing together involves interacting.

Those little interactions will go way fucking better if when you sat down you nodded to that dad and then casually turned back to doing your own thing than if you’ve been making known you wish you were alone.

You cannot and should not 

pretend people aren’t there

make huffy noises, expressions, or comments about them taking up a reasonable amount of space in accordance with their needs

or making a reasonable amount of noise 

or drinking a moderate amount of alcohol

or eating food you think is gross 

or otherwise enjoying the game in a different way than you like if it doesn’t hurt you

roll your eyes at their children for doing child things

 It’s shitty to do and it will not get you what you want. 

If you don’t want to even possibly be around someone who’s been drinking, or kids who might be yelling, etc, that’s fine: know that about yourself and don’t go to public sporting events.

As an Away fan

Being an Away fan is one of those things that’s way more awkward for you. Every game has Away fans: Home fans are actually perfectly used to them! A typical game-going Home fan vaguely likes having Away fans, because cheering is supposed to be fun competition. Cheer for your team as loud as you like! It’s not rude to the Home fans, it’s the whole point.

Some people may want to trash-talk you and expect to get it back in good faith. The content and the social context is what makes it chirping. If it’s not a personal insult, then they meant it as a silly thing we’ve all agreed is okay sometimes. If you don’t want to respond, those people will know to stop.

If it is personal, then it’s not chirping, it’s just an asshole. They aren’t being an asshole because of something you did or should have done, they just are.

If you do respond, respond in kind. If someone says their Starbucks card saves more than Tuukka, tell them you’ve heard better chirps from a dead bird. Don’t tell them they’re stupid for liking their ugly team and you hope they feel miserable.

I’ll be honest with you, if you wear Bruins gear, people will think you are down to chirp and be chirped. Absolutely wear it if you want to: you’ll look great and you’ll still be able to shut people down, but just anticipate that.

Think about bringing a neutral t-shirt with you, so that if you feel awkward you’ll know you always have the option of changing. That kind of reassurance often makes me feel better about what I’m wearing and then I decide I don’t need to change, but if I couldn’t I would really want to.

Good luck, have a great time and totally come back and tell us about it!

[angstymarshmallow]

Atonic Impact (Chris x MC)

[A little note: Instead of sleeping and being productive I’ve finished another Chris x MC fanfic. This ones comes from a kissing request from this prompt list. Thanks so much for requesting this one anon! It’s a little sneak peek into their waay into the future. As a heads up - there’s suggestive dialogue in here. I always feel like fluffy fics are a hit or miss for me but hopefully you’ll enjoy this!]

[Summary: After more than a decade of being together, MC (Micah) and Chris have finally reached a slight dilemma. Waking up day in and after day out, with two kids and constant schedule changes - even super parents need a break]. 

[Word Count: 2314]

10. Quick, Goodbye Kiss - It’s the almost late for work kisses when their lips just peck yours, like an unfinished goodbye. 

Micah’s going to be late for work again. 

Somehow during her nearly sleepy stupor, she’s switched the snooze button far too many times for her to keep count, and can no longer consider it reasonable to stay in bed.

She yawns and stretches before she glances at her phone. She does a double-take once she realizes the time. 

Shoot, it was way worse than she thought. She definitely needed to be up more than two hours ago. 

Sighing, she swings her willowy legs over to her side of the bed. It slightly creaks under the sudden shift of weight as she gets on her feet. She pads across the bedroom, armed with only intent to finding her robe and waking the rest of the house as her motivations to prevent herself from falling back asleep. 

Rubbing one eye, she strides towards the adjoining bathroom. Before she’s able to push the door open, she pauses in her step as her ears catches the sound of his voice. Barely higher than whisper, she hears his low timbre coming just across the other side of their door. As she strains to listen, she recognizes stray lyrics from the Disney movie they’ve watched with the kids last night.

Grinning to herself, she enters quickly and her stomach dips in delight when she catches sight of him. The steam and droplets from their shower-head affixed close-by their tub does little to hide his powerful body. Once her eyes travel across the smooth planes of his back and lower - she’s more than tempted to strip off her underwear and join him.

She scowls at herself; she’s supposed to have more willpower than this. Focus girl focus. But it never gets old, she’s never tired of Chris. It’s never been that way for them.  Sometimes, she can barely believe it’s been a little over a decade since the first time they bumped into each other during their freshman year at Hartfeld. 

It feels like a lifetime ago. For another her. And another him.

Yet throughout the years, how they’ve felt for each other never changes. It’s always been easy, natural - safe. And not a day goes by that she doesn’t think about how much she loves him, how much he loves her.

She thinks instead that every passing day she falls a little more in love with him than the day before. He makes her smile. Makes her laugh until it hurts. Makes her feel like the luckiest woman on Earth. Gave her two little children that she’d do anything for.

Biting her lips, she shakes her head clear and focuses on hastily grabbing her robe. Searching for her hairbrush she barely hears the shower’s screen door being opened before she feels him, spooning behind her.

His lean hips press passively into hers and his arms still completely drenched from his shower, encircle her before her skin erupts into goosebumps. “Chris,” a low warning edges from her. But it’s a loss cause almost immediately as his lips finds the side of her throat.

“Yes baby?” He trails soft kisses across her neck.

His lips makes it increasingly difficult for her to concentrate on what she’s supposed to be doing. The brush drops from her hand with a clang and almost misses the clutter by the sink. “I’m going to be late,” her voice is almost squeak when his tongue darts out and he suckles her flesh. She tilts her head to the side and grips the back of his head, closing her eyes until his lips finally pause by her ear.

“I know,” he whispers before gently biting down.

Her protest dies quickly and shifts into a soft moan. “God, that feels amazing.” Her hands stretch behind her until she’s able to run her fingers through his wet hair.

“You taste amazing,” he acknowledges with a murmur. Leaning heavily against her, Micah hears the towel drop as his lips travel across her shoulders. 

She shivers when he presses soft kisses there. “I find that hard to believe,” she wrinkles her nose. “I haven’t taken a shower and knowing you - you’ve already used up all the hot water.”

“I love the way you smell,” he mutters. “You smell so good.” He inhales deeply for emphasis, “whether you’re wet, sweating or covered in my -” Inhaling again, he sinks his teeth into her shoulders, nibbling gently as he hears her rushed intake of breath. “….But you’re right about the shower thing though.” 

“Chris!” Twisting inside his arms, she stares at him indignantly and he laughs. “We talked about this - Ethan and Wyatt goes first.” She frowns, “then me and then you.”

“Sorry,” he tries to look apologetic but Micah has a feeling he’s doing it more so to humor her. 

But it’s always been hard to stay mad at him, no matter the problem - she struggles more than anything to and finds it much easier to just give in. Especially when he’s standing almost naked in front of her - like he is right now. 

“No one was up when I got back from my run.” He adds, breaking her ogling. 

“And you didn’t wake me up?” She tries to scowl, “you know I have a big presentation with the board today.” 

“No, but I did something better.” He intercedes, “I made breakfast.” Leaning forward, he kisses her nose. “And the boys are all ready for me to drop them to school actually. Showered and everything. I got them up as soon as I got in.” He kisses her nose a second time, “plus after your third time hitting snooze - I figured you more than deserved a little more rest.”

“So that’s why it stopped ringing.” Instead of feeling upset, a wave of gratitude washes over her and she loops her arms around his neck again. “And you do care about my little project.” She tries to tease him, but her voice comes a little sharper than she intends.

“Little? You’re about to launch a non-profit organization for middle school kids that have never gotten equal opportunity at playing sports than the rest of their peers - I don’t only care, I’m so proud of you.” He smiles down at her.

“Really?” She suddenly feels small. She hadn’t realized how much she needs his approval until now. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t on board at first,” his smile drops and he sighs. “I saw how much time you were putting into it and….” His brows furrows a little until she reaches up to smoothen them.

“And you thought I cared more about this, than I do about our marriage,” She summarizes. At the look of guilt on his face, she shakes her head vehemently. “Honey, nothing’s more important to me than us - than our family. Even if I’ve been wrapped up into planning - you’re always going to be number one.” She smiles at him this time, threading her hands through his hair.

He leans into her touch. “I know, I know. It’s just…” He blows out a breath, “at the time it just felt that way. But I guess it’s silly for me to be jealous over a project,” he replies sheepishly. “And despite that. I am proud, really proud. Seeing how hard you’ve been working at something you love…even with all the hockey and soccer practices with the boys, knowing you still stay up even to put them to sleep every night.” He kisses her forehead, “I think I married a super mom.”

Laughing, she tips up a little on her toes to greet him with a proper good morning kiss. “And I married a super dad.” She responds simply, muttering against his mouth before sneaking another kiss. “You forget that you’re the one that’s been making dinner lately, and -” as she notices his mouth sliding open to protest she adds, “- making sure our weekends are never boring.”

He laughs.

She softens at the sound. “Thank you for always supporting me - even when it hasn’t been easy.” She breathes in his familiar scent and allows his comforting presence to reassure her that she’ll be fine today. No matter what, she knows she’ll be fine to coming back to a warm home filled with a man and children that love her. 

No matter how crazy they drive her sometimes. 

“If it was always easy, it wouldn’t be worth it.” Chris points out teasingly, then suddenly his eyes turn serious. “I love you, I never said it last night. But, I love you so much.”

Smiling, she brushes some of his wet hair aside. “I love you too. Even when we’re mad at each other, and everything feels like a mess - I’ve always loved you.” She kisses him once, then a second time before she feels his arms wrap around her. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

His arms press lightly until she’s backed up against the bathroom counters. As he deepens the kiss, she feels her world beginning to tilt. “Chris-” She smiles but stops short at the sight of unabashed desire in his eyes.

Wordlessly, he sits her on-top of the counter, and lifts her legs until they wrap around his waist. “How much time do you have left?” His voice has gone a little hoarse. Before she can answer, she feels his hard length brushing possessively between her thighs. 

He rocks them back and forth.

Her breath catches. “Not nearly enough time for whatever you’ve got planned in that handsome head of yours.” Except her hands know better than to listen to her words. They fall on deaf ears they began touching his skin. She relishes in the feeling of him flexing under her fingertips. 

His eyes bore into hers. “How do you feel about a quickie instead?” Everywhere his eyes and fingers touched, ignites something inside her veins and leaves behind a distinct want to give in. “I only need a few minutes.”

She arches her eyebrows.

“Okay, half an hour.” He pauses. “Maybe.” 

“Tempting…” she trails off. She bites her lips at the feeling of his coarse hands slipping past her robe.  They graze her shoulders before delving down further and as a shiver of anticipation fills her, they suddenly hear a voice.

“Mom, dad?”

The sound of Ethan’s shout abruptly freezes them. His voice is thankfully faraway enough for Micah not to worry about him walking in on them but she knows that their time alone together is already over before she finds the willpower to answer. Closing her eyes, Micah calls out first. “Is everything okay, sweetie?” 

“Yeah it’s just.” A pause. “I know you told me that Wyatt’s going through a phase and all, but he-he broke my tablet!” 

Sighing, her shoulders drop a little before she feels her husband’s forehead pressing there. She peeks down at him nuzzling into her. She can hear the steady breaths he takes to keep himself calm. “Why can’t Wyatt be nicer to his brother?” He mumbles into her skin.

She laughs, “hey he takes after you, not me. After amount of fights you told me you’ve had with Kyle - it’s shocking you two are so close.”

“That was more on his part than mine.” He immediately protests, “besides it’s easier getting along now that we’re all grown up.” He looks away, “…more or less.”

“Still, we should probably go.” Shaking her head, she drops a kiss by his cheek before he straightens up enough for her to stand. 

It turns out super parents work are never done.

He drapes his discarded towel casually across his shoulders and her eyes reflexively lingers on him. Shaking her head, she grips his hand tightly into hers. “Let’s go save the morning, shall we?” 

Instead of responding, his eyes skim her until he’s raked her with lusty stare. “Do we really have to?”

“Yes.” She knows he’s mostly teasing but when he’s looking at her like that, she wants nothing more than to yank him close and kiss him. 

As if reading her mind, he plants another kiss by her lips; except this time it’s over in seconds. Hastily, their lips meet, sliding against one another swiftly. Micah wants to savor this feeling; she knows that it’ll be hours before she’ll be able to see him again. Taste him again. And all too quickly it’s over, as they pull away from each other. Almost like an unfinished goodbye, he runs his thumb over her lips. 

“You get ready for work, and I’ll get them ready for school,” He’s half way through the door until he suddenly whirls back and points a finger at her. “But when we’re all home later - it’s just gonna be me and you tonight. 

She leans against the counter. “A date night?” She smiles. “We haven’t had one of those in awhile.”

“Exactly, it’s about time we get away - just for a little while before my football season starts again.” He pauses.

Micah can almost see the wheels turning inside his head. “What?”  

“You think your brother would mind helping us out on such short notice?” He scratches his chin.

She folds her arms, “hell yeah. Noah still owes us for that mess last Christmas.” 

He laughs, “I can’t believe you’re still holding that against him. Poor guy.”

“Poor guy?” She snorts, “More like poor us. I can’t even talk about him without thinking of last year.” She makes a face, “besides, if it’ll get him out of the house and keep the kids busy for awhile…” She trails off and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at him, “let’s just say I have something delicious up my sleeves, so keep your schedule wide open Powell.”

Back-paddling out of their room, he shoots her a smile. It’s one of his signature weak-in-the-knees smiles that Micah’s fallen in love with from almost the very beginning. “It’s a date.”

_

[nomorelonelydays]

How did Single Dad sid meet Famous Hockey Player Geno, anyway? Oh man, was it through the little penguins program? Or at a signing at a sporting goods store? Sid saved so carefully so little Avery could have have some gear (he wants to skate so, so bad) and finally he has enough and also a day off that he can take Avery in to have his tiny skates fitted. When he gets to the store there are people everywhere, and Evgeni Malkin is doing a signing and Avery is just starry eyed (1/2)

(2/2) when they get to the table where Geno is wearing out Sharpies, Avery can barely see over it but he hands Geno one of his new skates and solemnly informs him that if he signs it it’ll be lucky and maybe he’ll skate “super fast” just like Geno. And before Sidney can stop him Avery tells Geno how his dad saved and saved and how awesome his dad is and Geno is so charmed and he looks up to smile politely at the great dad of this adorable child and nearly chokes on his own tongue b/c PRETTY

-

(“You looking at the DILF over there, G?” Flower whispers.

“What?” Geno furrows his brows. “Not know word.”

Flower whispers it in his ear, and Geno pushes him away with an outraged expression. “Go away, Flower.”)

And there’s a bunch of silly scenes and Geno taking Sidney out to way too expensive restaurants and REALLY emo h/c misunderstandings about money like:

“I don’t want you to keep doing this!” Sidney whisper-yells at him, because Avery is sleeping in his room. “You’re not–I know I don’t have a lot of money, but you don’t have to buy me a car, or–or keep planning these expensive trips to fucking Aruba or something–”

“Is just Orlando,” Geno argues back, equally quiet. “Take you and Avery to Disneyworld. I promise him if good grades, then is surprise.”

“You’re not my fucking sugar daddy, G,” Sidney spits out helplessly. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Charity?” Geno echoes. “Sid, is not charity. I have money. I’m not pretend money not exist. I want to spend it on people I love. And I’m love you and Avery, want the best for you. Want you safe and happy.”

Sidney looks taken aback at the sudden declaration, then waves his hands. “I just–it’s too much. This is probably selfish of me to think, but–but I can’t deal with the fallout when you get tired of us and just–leave.” 

“Leave? I’m leave? Why I’m fucking ever do that?”

Sidney’s eyes are very bright with unshed tears. “Geno, please understand. I’m not saying this to be an ass. I’m being realistic.” He looks behind him at the hallway, but there’s no sound from Avery’s room. He sighs. “Look, I know hockey players. Okay? You have fame. And–and money. And you want fun. And Avery and I–well, we’re happy being us, but we’re just us. And it’s really scary for me to know that you can leave any time you want because you have the resources–and, and the ability to do it. And there’s so many other people with better circumstances–don’t look at me like that, Geno. I’m not trying to fish for sympathy. It’s just how it is, and I’m acknowledging it. And I know it’s not what you want to hear, and it sounds like I’m the world’s biggest dick, but I can’t just be here because you want to play house once in a while.” 

“Sid,” Geno says, devastated. He grips Sidney’s shoulders, but Sidney won’t meet his eyes. “Sid. Look at me. Look.”

Sidney sniffles, his voice cracking. “I have to think about myself and my son, too, you know? I’m tired of getting thrown away for being not good enough.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? Geno realizes. The culmination and root of all of Sidney’s insecurities and fear. His dream of getting drafted cut short by an injury, his ex-partner leaving him and his son for someone else, him turning that feeling of abandonment into a silent resilience and strength to take care of his family first in lieu of taking care of himself. But here he is, finally, admitting the last shred of selfishness he has left in his body, a wish to just be wanted and not having to worry about being loved, and it tears at Geno’s heart. Geno wants to give him the world, but Sidney’s heart is held together by tape and and a couple pieces of loose string; he’ll fall apart if it shatters again. He can’t afford to take things given to him without a fight. 

“Sidney, I love you,” Geno says fiercely, and Sidney looks up in shock. “I love you so much. The last six months, best six months of my life. You know? Remember that loss to Flyers, a while back? Sid, remember?”

“I remember,” Sidney replies softly. 

“I’m so angry then,” Geno says. “Just go straight back to hotel room and be angry, not go out with teammates. And then you and Avery call me, and I’m so happy. Forget we lose at all. Just listen to you and Avery talk to me, maybe talk a little bit about hockey, but mostly about his day at school, and you talk about your day at work and some dumbass spill coffee on copy machine. And I think right then, ‘Thank God I have family waiting for me at home. They’re in Pittsburgh and I can go home soon and see them, and then take Avery out to zoo or something‘”

“Geno, I–”

Geno cups Sidney’s face, smoothing out Sidney’s cheek with his thumb. “Sid. Hockey is not my life. Yes, big part, can’t help it. But family is most important. You and Avery is most important. Is too early, maybe yes, maybe no, but I already know I’m want to be with you for long time, if you want me. Okay? Should have said earlier, so you not think about it so much like this.”

“I’m–” Sidney looks so cautiously hopeful, then shakes his head. He looks like all the fight has gone out of his body. “Every time I think I finally got you figured out, you just–just do this.”

“Sidney Patrick Crosby, you share family with me, make me most happy, make me believe I’m do anything and not just be dumb hockey player,” Geno says, nuzzling Sidney’s cheek and saying the words into his skin. “I’m lucky to even meet you. I love you,” he says again. “Want be with you.”

“Okay, G,” Sidney murmurs after a while, leaning in to press his lips against Geno’s. “Okay.” 

[sibillascribbles08]

Thermal Equilibrium

Happy Valentine’s day take this silly ficlet.

Also from my spirit AU because Jack and Gabe are just??? I love them

It all began only two weeks into SEP.

Gabriel was still trying to figure his roommate out. The blond farm boy looked more like he should be in an IT school than the military. It was a good thing he never said that, or he’d be eating his own words on the first day of training. The guy could use some more work on his upper body but he outran everyone without breaking a sweat.

How was he that fast?

He didn’t bother Gabriel much. A bit chatty and certainly nosy but he respected Gabriel’s space. At first that was fine, as Gabriel wanted to stick to himself.

Jack Morrison, however, had piqued Gabriel’s curiosity.

It wasn’t just his athletics either. Ever since he came back to the room late, Gabriel had been watching him like a hawk. He swore blind he saw Jack’s eyes glowing.

But a week after that, he got his answer.

The higher ups had roommates alternating schedules for injections, in case something went wrong. Gabriel had spent most of the day in the gym, catching up after his last reaction. The movement helped loosen up his muscles, a relief compared to the pain they were in.

He noticed something was off the moment he stepped into the room. Was it colder? He swore the temperature just dropped ten degrees.

“Morrison?” Gabriel dropped his bag on the floor as he headed inside.

There was no response, but he could hear something. There was a muffled clattering and he peered into Jack’s side of the room.

The first thing that stood out was the huge clump of blankets on the bed. He stepped over to it, watching them shake as the chattering got louder.

“Morrison? You in there?”

The blankets shifted and wiggled before Jack poked his blond head out.

“H-hey.” The chattering was coming from his teeth. His skin was even paler than usual, almost blue. Gabriel could actually see faint freckles on his cheeks.

“Jeez, what happened to you?” He tried to count the blankets. “And where did you get these?”

“St-stole ‘em. You can t-t-take yours back if-f-f you need it.”

“Looks like you need it more. The injections do this?”

“Think so.”

“Are those blankets helping?”

Jack weakly shook his head.

Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek. He figured Jack would be fine. The mess would pass like the rest of their symptoms. Still, the guy looked like he was about to to slip into hypothermia.

He couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him.

Did the base have any sort of heaters? He knew there were ice packs in the med bay but were there any for heat? He doubted the people here cared much about sore muscles. The only warm thing he could think of was coffee and he couldn’t just jam that under the sheets.

Would he get in trouble for building a fire in his room?

“Master Reyes you cannot be serious.” Marigold grumbled.

Hey, I shouldn’t use you. I’m supposed to keep you a secret remember?

“Believe me, it won’t matter in this case.”

Gabriel frowned. What did that mean?

“Trust me.”

Jack had crawled back under the blankets. The stack was still shaking.

Gabriel sighed and kneed the mattress. “Make room.”

“Huh?” It was hard to hear Jack through the sheets.

“Move over and make room.”

“Why?”

“You want to warm up right? Or do you like being a popsicle.”

Jack mumbled something but finally tossed the blankets up. The rest of his skin was worse, the tips of his fingers actually turning blue as he tried to jam them under his arms.

Gabriel decided to not think twice about this decision as he climbed on the bed and tugged the covers over them both. He noticed the temperature right away, even colder than outside. How was that even possible.

“Shit Jack, what are you made of, liquid nitrogen?”

He chuckled at that, the chattering of his teeth slowing down. Gabriel couldn’t see anything with how dark it was and just crossed his arms. His elbow brushed against Jack, and he was about to apologize for it until suddenly his roommate was clinging to him.

The cold hit him harder than getting hit with a bucket of ice water. The chill spread down his spin in horrible slow motion down to his finger tips.

He screamed.

“S-shit, sorry.” Jack let go.

“Holy hell, god damn. I’ve never felt something so cold in my life.”

“Sorry, you’re just... weirdly warm.”

Gabriel scrambled for an excuse. “I just finished up in the gym.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgement. His shivering was shaking the entire bed.

Gabriel sighed as he moved his arm over. This time Jack was a bit slower to take it. The cold was sharp, but after a few seconds it dulled down enough to ignore it.

He struggled to find something to talk about. Jack wasn’t particularly chatty, which was weird. Usually when they did talk Jack did most of it and now Gabriel was left up a creek without a paddle.

“Good gracious you’re hopeless.” Marigold scolded. “Just talk to him.”

Easier said than done. Where did he even start? He barely knew what kind of things Jack liked apart from that hidden stack of comic books. It seemed weird now, with as much as Jack liked to talk, how little Gabriel actually knew about him. Jack must have talked about it before right? Did Gabriel just forget? He remembered a few mentions of a farm, Indiana, his parents and some asshole from high school named Martin.

“So uh,” Gabriel rubbed his neck with his free arm. “You used to run track or something?”

“What?” Jack glanced up at him and Gabriel swore he saw that same glow for a moment.

“You’re so damn fast on the field. How did that happen with those scrawny legs of yours.”

“H-hey,” He shivered. “They aren’t th-that scrawny. Not all of us can have m-monster thighs like yours.”

“Huh?”

“N-nothing.” Jack pressed his forehead against Gabriel’s shoulder. Felt like an ice block. “But n-no I didn’t. Did a few years of hockey though.”

Gabriel snorted, trying to picture his roommate in all that bulky gear. “Hockey? Really? Wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“W-what, you didn’t do any sp-sports when you were younger?”

“Not much, didn’t have the time. Played some soccer in elementary I guess.”

Jack was laughing until another chill hit him, bad enough that his whole body went tense. He pulled Gabriel’s arm even closer, clinging to it. Those cold fingers digging into his skin felt like needles.

“You sure you don’t want see the doctors about this?”

“N-nothing they could,” He had to pause, “do. Just have t-to wait for it to p-pass.”

Gabriel sighed, mulling over the stupid idea hovering before him. He had a possible solution to this, but he didn’t know if he could trust Jack enough with it. Still, he’d never seeing the shining, optimistic and determined Jack Morrison look so bad. Even when curled up on the bathroom floor waiting to puke again he’d flash Gabriel a thumbs up and a small smile.

“Listen,” Gabriel said. “I might have something that can help but... one, you can’t tell anyone. And two, don’t scream.”

“Don’t scream at wha-”

He didn’t want to think twice about it. He held out his hand and snapped up a flame. The dark space under was filled with orange light.

Jack screamed anyways. “Holy shit!” He scrambled back, apparently forgetting they were on a bed. He vanished behind the mattress, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

“Morrison?” Gabriel slid over, lifting the blankets enough to see out. Jack was laying on his back, blue eyes wide as they stared at the ceiling, still shivering.

“You just, you’re hand is on fire.” He shouted again.

“Heh, yeah,” Gabriel smiled and held it out. “Catch.”

Jack panicked then the flame was tossed into the air. He cringed when he reached out, trying to stop it from landing on the floor. It softly bounced off his palms, hovering above them. Slowly Jack opened his eyes. The chattering in his teeth stopped.

“Whoa,” He brought it closer. “It’s not... it doesn’t burn.”

“Nope, healing fire. Pretty crazy right?”

Jack’s body shivered again and he practically pressed his face into the flames. “How?”

“Uh, this spirit thing. She gives me some crazy abilities.”

“Wait,” Jack lifted his face back up, the flame slowly going out. “You too?”

Gabriel blinked and stared. He’d never even considered it before. Of course this kind of cold wasn’t natural. Of course the glowing eyes weren’t either. Why the hell hadn’t he even considered it?

Wait a second.

Did you know?

Marigold was giggling. Damn bird.

“You have one?” He finally asked.

“Yeah, my uncle gave me this wolf. He has some ice powers so... He mentioned that all this experimentation might cause some weird side effects. That’s why it’s so-” A shiver cut him off. The flame was gone by now.

Can that actually happen?

“Yes, often times drastic changes to your physical makeup forces your abilities to adjust as well. It can take some getting used to.”

Great, did that mean he was going to turn into overdone hotcake at some point? He didn’t want to think about that. Some days this heat was frustrating enough to deal with.

“What’s y-yours?” Jack had his hands tucked under his arms again.

“A phoenix.”

“What? That sounds so cool.”

Gabriel couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think you’re the cool one here, Morrison.”

“F-fuck off.”

“Come on,” He lifted the blankets higher. “Get back under here. I’ll turn it into a toaster oven for you.”

Jack almost seemed to cringe at the idea, but with another shiver he was scrambling back onto the bed. Gabriel lit both hands this time, letting the flames crawl up to his shoulders. Jack was clinging to him all over again, his shivering almost coming to a complete stop.

“‘S like hugging a big toasty marshmallow.” Jack mumbled.

Gabriel laughed. “You serious there, Morrison?”

“What? Makes me think of bonfires.” His voice was drifting off, like he was about to fall asleep. “Outside on a summer evening. Everyone trying to make s’mores, but half the marshmallows catch on fire. Smells like burnt sugar and smoke.” His grip loosened. “I miss all that, sometimes.”

Gabriel had never experienced something like that before, but found he had no trouble picturing it in his mind. “Tell you what, first break we get we’ll buy some marshmallows and I’ll toast them for you.”

Jack chuckled, cold breath against his skin. “Can you do that with phoenix fire?”

“Well I’ve toasted poptarts before.”

Jack’s laughter got louder before it drifted off. His breathing slowed down, but at least his teeth weren’t chattering. Gabriel considered slipping out but instead he stayed there, trying to remember the last time he’d eaten a s’more.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep as well.

-------------------

It became a sort of routine between them. Gabriel burned hot. Jack burned cold. Close contact almost became the norm whenever they were in their room, even if it was as simple as leaning on each other on the couch. If the injections caused Jack’s temperature to drop he’d sometimes just cling to Gabriel’s back, even when the soldier moved around the room. Other times when Gabriel got back from the gym, his system unable to cool down, he’d grab one of Jack’s hands and press it against his forehead. If that one got too warm he’d grab the other one.

Sometimes he couldn’t quite tell if it was his abilities or not that were causing Jack to go so red in the face.

Eventually the injections did him in as well. It wasn’t too noticeable at first. He was taking some time to let the nausea pass, lounging on the couch and praying he didn’t puke. His body felt hot, hot enough that he got up to get some water, but that temporary solution vanished. He could feel himself sweating, trying to stay hydrated but after holding the water long enough he could see the top of it steaming.

What the hell?

His shirt got damp and kept clinging to his skin. Sweat pants were obviously not an option. He couldn’t even leave his beanie on with how damn hot it was, his curly hair clinging to his forehead. There was no fan in the room, no ice, and he didn’t have the energy to make it to the lounge area.

He lay face down on the floor, at least wishing for an outside breeze.

“Jesus Reyes,” Jack said when he came in. “Are you baking in here or something? What’s-”

He forced himself to look up to meet Jack’s gaze, almost confused by how red his face was. In fact that blush was crawling down to his neck. His grip on his bag went slack and it hit the floor with a thump.

“Hot,” Gabriel muttered.

“Oh, you okay? Need some more water?”

“Leave me out in a blizzard.”

Jack laughed, “None of those around I’m afraid. Come on, off the floor.”

“Sofa’s too hot. Bed’s too hot.”

“You can’t lie down there.” Jack grabbed his arm. Cold, cool, refreshing, like landing in a pool in the middle of July. Gabriel knew it was probably out of bounds but he shot up and clung to Jack anyway. One hand on his neck he pressed their foreheads together, feeling that cold sensation rush over his skin. He thought about jumping off the diving board, having splash wars with his mother and how it felt the first time he learned to float on his back.

“Um, Reyes?”

He let his eyes flitter open, somehow surprised by how close Jack was. Once again he was reminded that this probably wasn’t okay but for a moment he couldn’t move. He’d never get over how blue Jack’s eyes were.

Finally, he snapped out of it.

“Sorry,” He let go. “But it’s like feeling that first blast of air conditioning after being stuck outside for two hours.”

“Trust me, I can relate.” Jack rubbed his shoulder. “Side effects?”

“I’m guessing so. I was making my damn water start to boil earlier, just by holding it.”

“Fine, I’ll go sneak some ice packs real quick. Put some pants on will you?”

“Aw, what’s wrong Morrison, don’t like what you see?”

That blush was returning but Jack’s face got surprisingly serious. “Well, you might want to put a shirt back on too. Unless you don’t mind anyone else seeing those.”

Suddenly the heat fled Gabriel’s system as his blood went cold. He glanced down at the still visible scars on his chest.

Shit.

“Going to get ice packs.” Jack said.

Gabriel’s hand shot out, snatching his friend’s wrist. “Wait. You’re not... You’re not going to tell anyone are you?”

Jack frowned. “Of course not. It’s none of my business and it’s not like it changes anything.” He offered a small smile. “I have the taste of that sparring mat memorized because of you.”

Relief washed over him and he let go. “You got that right. You really need to work on being so predictable.”

“I’ll be right back.” Jack said and headed to the door. “I like your hair, by the way.”

Gabriel ran a hand through the curls, feeling how damp they were. He’d have to show it to Jack again sometime when he wasn’t almost drenched from head to toe. Hell, maybe he should take a cold shower while he waited. It’d certainly help wouldn’t it.

He headed for the bathroom but nope, too hot. Once again he found himself lying on the floor and groaning.

Jack was a blessing when he came back, cooling down Gabriel enough to get him to the shower. Freezing water normally bothered him but now it felt like a god send. Jack had some clothes ready for him, and leaving one of the cold packs pressed between them kept Gabriel from sweating through them in the first five minutes.

“Here, let me hold your water.” Jack said. “Keep it cool.”

“Fine,” Gabriel wasn’t paying much attention to the holocaster as he buried his forehead against Jack’s shoulder. He never thought he’d enjoy the cold this much. Even before this phoenix he’d always been one for summer sun.

Jack didn’t say much, occasionally handing Gabriel his water or getting up to grab more. Any time a specific spot got too warm Gabriel would change position, burying his face against Jack’s stomach, his neck, and even his leg.

“What are you doing?” Jack was almost laughing as Gabriel leaned so far down on the sofa half his body was on the floor. He’d tugged Jack’s leg over so his friend’s calf rested on his forehead.

“Cold spot,” Gabriel muttered.

“Alright.”

It became even more routine after that. In fact they often wound up sharing a bed, although making Jack sleep at night was sometimes an entirely new chore. That wolf of his gave him insomnia, and nothing terrified Gabriel more than waking up and seeing Jack’s eyes glowing in the dark.

Gabriel would hang onto their coffee to keep it warm. Jack held onto their water bottles during training. When Jack pulled a muscle in his shoulder Gabriel kept a hand on it. When Gabriel bruised up his knee during a training run Jack returned the favor. Sometimes it was so sub-conscious they had to keep each other in check when other people were around.

Sometimes Gabriel let himself foolishly think that he could hang onto Jack forever.

“You should tell him that.” Marigold would taunt back.

Like hell he would. There was no room for that in a place like this. There wasn’t even a guarantee they’d meet each other again when the program was up.

That thought always tore his heart to pieces. He tried not to think about it but sometimes it was so hard not to. Strangely enough, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You okay?” Jack suddenly sat up, forehead creased with worry.

“Of course, why?”

“You uh... you suddenly got... cold.”

What? Was that even possible for him? He glanced at his skin like he expected to find something but of course not.

“It was weird it’s like... your flame just burnt out. You sure you’re okay? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Just...” Gabriel rubbed his neck. “Just sometimes think about how when this program is up we could never see each other again.”

“Oh,” Jack fell back against the couch, eyes staring straight forward. “Yeah, guess that’s true. But hey, hopefully by then you can make it by without constantly needing an ice pop, yeah?”

Jack’s laughter sounded hollow and it left Gabriel feeling nauseous.

“What?”

“I mean, you know, your always hanging onto me cause of all these weird chemicals in our systems. At least by then it’ll balance out and thing will go back to normal.”

“What... what the fuck, Jack.”

That startled him, making his laughter cut off as he glanced over.

“That has to be some kind of sick joke. You really think I hang around you this much just because you’re some kind of personal air conditioner?”

“I mean,” Jack crossed his arms and curled up. “You never really did before.”

Shit, hell, Gabriel growled and put his palms over his eyes, angry because he knew Jack was right. They didn’t start talking until this mutual temperature control took off. Gabriel had never seen their relationship that way, but he’d never given Jack a reason to think otherwise.

Jesus christ he was an asshole.

“Damn Jack, no. I don’t hang around you because you’re a walking freezer. If I wanted that I’d just lock myself inside the one in the kitchen. Less noisy.”

Jack snorted. “Sorry I like to talk.”

Hell, that came out wrong. “I know you do and I like it too damn it.” He sat up and turned to face him. “I don’t... I don’t talk to anyone else here Jack. I don’t trust them. I keep up my front because I’m scared if they start learning who I am I’ll lose all their respect.”

“What are you talking about Gabriel? You’re the best out of all of us.”

“Yeah and how do you think most of them will react finding out that I’m trans. I mean, hell, I even have all these cool fire powers but the worst thing they could do is make you sweat.”

“At least you’ve figured out what they can do. What have I done outside of tiny ice sculptures and night vision?”

“Ugh, we’re getting off topic.” Gabriel ran a hand down his face. “Look, Jack, my point is I’m not going to miss you because of your cold skin. I’m going to miss you because you’re my damn friend, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

Jack’s expression softened before he sighed. “No, I’m sorry for just assuming you didn’t care.”

“Well it’s not like I was being clear.”

He actually smiled this time, letting himself slide over, resting his head on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Yeah, you can be kind of an asshole.”

“Jackass.”

He felt Jack’s laughter against his neck, not thinking when he pressed his cheek against his hair. He didn’t want to lose this. He wasn’t sure he’d feel this safe around anyone else.

“You should tell him that.” Marigold hummed.

Gabriel wasn’t sure he had the confidence for that. Still, “Hey Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something?”

“What?”

“If we do get separated, promise me we’ll find each other again.”

“Promise.” Jack curled up even closer.

There were no chills, no waves of heat. Gabriel focused on the sensations, picturing the gentle warmth of the California sun while an ocean breeze rushed over his skin. He tried not to think on it too hard, how perfect it all was. Fire and ice, hot and cold, it had to be some kind of coincidence that they found each other. There were plenty of other spirits with these kinds of abilities after all. Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to believe in something like fate.

Just chance that they were both chosen for this. Just chance they wound up in the same room.

Just chance, right?

Well then, maybe that same chance would keep them together. For the first time in years, Gabriel decided to be hopeful.

Maybe Jack was getting to him.

[plentypost-blog]

The Highlights of India’s Independence

15th of August 2018, marks the 72nd Independence Day for our motherland India. The excursion through these 72 years has been exceptional, featured with occasions that are justified regardless of the battle. Despite the fact that we have accomplished a great deal, there is a considerable measure that still stays to be achieved. In any case, there is no denying the way that India remains a unique democracy in the world. To recognize this Independence day, let us investigate what makes this nation so one of a kind. Heaven forbid this list to be considered exhaustive or even objective. It is an exercise in distillation, an attempt to sew together the ideas and themes—some uplifting, some most definitely not—that define independent India. There is also some sweet remembrance to the epic things that happened this past year that made us say “It can happen only in India”.  

Here are some highlights of India’s Independence:

  "I" as in "INDIAN NATIONAL CONGRESS"

  One of the stone turning changes in this journey has definitely been the fall of the Congress in 2014 in the face of a BJP electoral onslaught. The party has seen pillory ever since. Though they did commit some major howlers, the critics are to blame for turning a blind eye to its many merits.  

"N" for our "NEIGHBOURS"

  Who collectively serve as a major source of a national migraine. India has been gifted with a set of both good and bad neighbours. However, the country has immense potential in always messing up relations with the neighbours by acting like an elder brother. The bad ones – no points on guessing who they are – are the ones we have fought against in the past and could almost surely fight again in the coming years.  

"D" for "DEMONETISATION"

  Enough has been already said about this. This one little, well not so little, initiative by the Modi Government took the world by storm overnight. An attempt to curb black money and corrupt practices in India, the demonetisation received mixed reviews by different sectors of the country.  

"E" is the "ECONOMY" of our country"

  India, the 7th largest country in the world, has been struggling to pace economic development owing to a million reasons and ultimately playing the population card. In 1991, penury forced the Indian government to ferry gold to the Western Banks to keep India from sinking. The country was slowly transformed into a global powerhouse by the reforms that followed. The challenge still remains scary: Can the country add a million jobs every month to keep afoot with its demographic growth?  

"P" for "PARLIAMENT SESSIONS"

  This has to be a most loved one. India’s parliament sessions are epic or lit as a millennial would say. While the sessions are held to discuss constructive ideas and acknowledge pressing issues, our politicians sure find a way to make it seem unimportant and silly.  

"E" for "ENGLISH"

  The language has been the key to India’s success across borders. Yes, it was the language of her colonisers, but today we are grateful for this economic asset. The language keeps India provisional and unworldly and most notably helps Indians secure international jobs.  

"N" is for "NUCLEAR ARMED STATE"

  In 1974, India successfully conducted its first nuclear test in Pokhran, a small town in the state of Rajasthan. Though the decision saw speculation and global ire, it did include India into the ranks of a nuclear weapon state.  

"D" is for "DIASPORA"

  The section of the Indians who ventured abroad to make a living for themselves. They live in the US, the UK, Canada, West Africa and specially in the kingdom of the sheiks, where India’s daughters and sons go to make a living amidst the oil addled people. The Diaspora is India’s Trump-card abroad.  

"E" for "ENTERTAINMENT"

  India has a large entertainment industry, Bollywood – India’s alter ego, being its largest component. It is the place where the outcomes are dictated by dreams and the reality is ruled by the imagination. Indian lives would be almost unbearable without the escape of Indian cinema.  

"N" is for "NATIONAL SPORT"

  The nationally celebrated sport of India, cricket too offers a portrait of the country. For years, this has been the one sphere where India successfully competes against the world. Today, the sport has a tableau of everything Indian: competition, money, corruption and aspiration. On the other hand, the actual national sport of the country, hockey, struggles to get any limelight at all.  

"C" is for the "HOLY COW"

  A gentle creature in whose name spiritual activities think nothing of lynching men in broad daylight. There is no other creature anywhere in history that embodies the politics of an entire generation so perfectly.  

"E" stands for "EDUCATION"

  From 1947 to the present day, the literacy rate in India has seen a complete transformation from 12% to 80%. However, when entering into the details, results are largely uneven with some states still lagging with low literacy rates and the women still marked less literate than men.   Use the comment section below and let us know what do you think about our definition for Independence!   LIKE PlentyPost on Facebook | Instagram| Twitter AUTHOR: SARAF EDITOR: SINGH & SHAW TECHIE: GUPTA Read the full article