#jeff skinner x you

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦

˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — teacher!jeff skinner x teacher!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 2.4k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — their students decide to play matchmaker before a school dance; will their scheming pay off?

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — written to fill a short n sweet request last year for my patreon fic-mas <3 and if you catch the lil nod to two of our favs, you're a real one

“I know we’ve been having a hard time concentrating this week, which is understandable with all the excitement surrounding the Snowball Dance, but you do have one more day of work before you can totally kick back and check out,” Jeff Skinner, a high school social studies teacher, says after the tardy bell chimes.

The students are settling into their seats but listen intently.

He continues, “That being said, I will still be collecting your annotations for chapters eighteen through twenty that we started during Monday’s class. While I’m doing that, a sign-up sheet for the Unit 5 case study presentations will be floating around the room. If I were you, I’d grab the earliest slot available to get it over with and be done for the semester. But, hey, that’s just me!”

His twelfth-grade AP Government class meets this with a chorus of groans. A subset of students lightheartedly boo him from the back row. Oddly, though, the ruckus pleases him.

Mr. Skinner strives to create a classroom environment where the teens feel comfortable sharing their honest feelings and have the space to do so if they choose. Their vocal push-back signifies their trust in him. He also appreciates their mutinous spirit because it arose after their deep dive into the Declaration of Independence and its twenty-seven grievances; they were combative but in the name of freedom for the cohort and the individual. Jeff saw that as a Teacher Win.

“I know, I know. I’m a tyrant, and you hate me. But unlike this country, this classroom is a monarchy, not a democracy,” he returns the teasing. “And if you looked at our agenda when you walked in this morning, you would’ve seen that—because I am obviously the nicest person ever—I have allocated today’s class period to independent work time. So, you can complete whatever you may need. That means putting any final touches on this week’s chapters, polishing up your Supreme Court case PowerPoints with your partner or group, or finishing any outstanding assignments.

And if you recall, I give full credit for late work, so long as it's on my desk before the cut-off tomorrow at noon. You’re welcome." Sarcasm is his favorite—and most effective—bonding strategy. "If you're squared away, you know where the board games and art supplies are. Just no more explicit drawings. I don’t care, but Mrs. Benson next door does.”

The class laughs, fondly recalling the fiasco the day before Homecoming.

A couple of students decided to use their free time to create a few political illustrations. While they were historically accurate and objectively hilarious, they were not “school appropriate,” according to the 9th-grade Geography teacher who glimpsed the comic strips as she passed the open door.

She demanded Jeff punish the perpetrators for their vulgarity, but instead, he had the drawings laminated and bound into a resource book. Said book has since found a home on a bookshelf, wedged comfortably between Howard Zinn’s A Power Governments Cannot Suppress and The Words We Live By: Your Annotated Guide to the Constitution by Linda Monk.

In his peripheral vision, Jeff sees a student waiting by the door and invites them in. He segues, “Before I leave you to your own devices, it looks like we have a visitor from ASB. So, please be nice, give them your full attention, and don’t embarrass me. Capiche?”

The class agrees to comply, and the boy, an underclassman if he had to guess, hesitantly walks to the front of the room.

Jeff remembers how intimidating seniors felt when he was that age, so he gives his students a pointed warning over the kid’s shoulder. A few of them perk up, noticeably straightening in their seats.

“Good morning, everyone. I’m Leo, and I will be filling in for Gabby today.” He looks down at the printout of the day’s announcements and clears his throat. Then, Leo begins reading them aloud:

“Feeling stressed this finals season? Stop by the quad next week during both A and B lunch blocks to decompress with some therapy dogs. If you need further or individualized support, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson will be opening up their schedules for one-on-one sessions. Appointments can be made using the yellow slips in the main office.

Work permits are available in the career counseling hub. If you plan on getting a job or need to renew, please submit an application as soon as possible. No permits will be issued during Winter Break.

Remember that your final exam period is not the same as your regular meeting time or day, so be sure to check your portals this weekend for the updated schedule.

Still need a ticket for the Snowball Dance tomorrow night? Please stop by the ASB room or contact Owen Power, the senior class president, before sixth period today. They’re $15 with an ASB card and $20 without one. Trust me; you don’t want to miss out!"

The audience of seniors cheers, hooting and hollering out their delight. The underclassman beams, confidence swelling, and tucks the script away. His smile grows. “And now…drum roll, please!”

As the students bang their desks with open palms, textbooks, and stray pencils, the ASB student angles a pair of jazz hands towards the open door.

“Santa Claus!”

Peyton, the current school mascot—in an ill-fitting costume that's certainly older than he is—materializes in the empty space. He hauls a lumpy velvet bag over his shoulder as he saunters across the room. The tiny gold bells affixed to the sack twinkle with every step.

“Ho, ho, ho! Candy Cane Gram delivery!” Peyton bellows.

His impression is unexpectedly convincing, in Jeff's humble opinion.

“Santa” roots around in the bag and pulls the first set out. They’re paper-clipped together, indicating both were for the same person. “Taylor Zimmerman? Two for you!”

He passes the slips of paper back to the student who raised her hand.

The distribution of festive notes, an annual fundraiser put on by the junior and senior class councils to bankroll the dance itself, fades into background noise as Mr. Skinner begins looking over the pile of essays he collected last period from his squirrelly 10th-grade World History class.

The prompt had been to explore the impact of globalization in the post-Cold War era, and they’re off to a great start. The first essay's author touches on “transnational actors” and their impact on overall global wealth—in the introductory paragraph. Pride blooms in his chest. Maybe someone had been paying attention after all.

Jeff gets through three and a half papers—all 95% and above, but who’s counting?—before he feels someone standing over him.

“Uh, Mr. Skinner?” Peyton whispers in his civilian voice.

“Yes?” Jeff replies.

To mark his spot, Mr. Skinner sets his pen below a particularly eloquent paragraph highlighting how American consumer culture polluted local ecosystems abroad.

The sophomore nervously looks around the room. After deciding his peers were too engrossed in the social politics of sending and receiving Candy Cane Grams and Ice Court nomination speculation to hear, Peyton pulls a slip of paper out from inside the thick, red coat and sets it on Jeff’s desk. It’s crumpled, and the miniature candy cane is barely hanging on.

“This last one’s for you.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” Jeff smiles. The polite expression is meant to relieve the student from his classroom, but Peyton remains glued to his spot. Gently, he asks, “Is there something else I can do for you, Mr. Krebs?”

“Aren’t you going to see who sent it?” the boy asks, all toothy grin and twinkling eyes.

Well, that’s not at all suspicious, Mr. Skinner thinks as he slides the slip closer.

He scans the generic template, reading his name and room number scrawled beside washed-out festive clipart, but doesn’t understand the fuss... until his eyes drift down to the section for an optional message.

Mr. Skinner,

Just like a snowflake, you’re one of a kind. Be my date to the dance tomorrow night? It would make me SNOW happy!

Jeff almost believes it’s from you. Had he not been familiar with your handwriting, it would have been an excellent forgery. But, he knew your penmanship. Maybe a little too well.

His anchor charts were all in your hand; he could see at least three from where he was sitting. Jeff can’t recall the last time he attempted one on his own.

In exchange for mercifully sparing him from teenage ridicule due to his poor penmanship, he handled the construction and refurbishment of the props and sets necessary for the Winter Showcase and spring musical every year. Whatever you, the brilliant and beloved drama teacher, dreamed up, Jeff dutifully built.

Including, but not limited to, an impressive Audrey II, the iconic Venus flytrap from “Little Shop of Horrors,” a life-size bubble for their Glinda to float around in during performances of “Wicked,”  and the massive tire that anchors the dilapidated junkyard set for “Cats.”

He was ambivalent about musical theater when he bartered the informal contractor role, but Jeff grew to love it after a few years. Due in large part to your infectious passion.

He gives the mastermind—or masterminds, props for trying, though.

“Oh, wow!” Jeff exclaims, deciding to play along. Peyton's face brightens; there’s no way he’s not involved. “Out of respect, let’s keep this between you and me for now, okay?”

“O-of course, Mr. Skinner,” Peyton sputters, as though he��s shocked Jeff didn’t notice anything amiss or ask any follow-up questions. “That’s why I waited to give it to you. It felt too personal to announce in front of your entire class. Especially after the whole Homecoming thing.”

“Thing” wasn’t what he’d call it, but this kind of dramatic exaggeration was one of the many reasons he loved working with teenagers.

During a pep rally in October, the student body president crowned the two of you the faculty Homecoming King and Queen. Jeff wasn't even aware that was a thing he could win, and neither had you, but you bashfully accepted the titles and accompanying crowns in front of a thousand rowdy high schoolers anyway.

Later that night, you slow-danced to Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” under a sky of twinkling stars—clear fairy lights repurposed from the previous year’s "Camelot" canopy—black glitter tulle, and a plywood crescent moon.

The students lost their minds then and were yet to get over it. Obviously.

“I appreciate that,” Jeff says, biting back his amusement.

Peyton salutes him and hoists the sack over his shoulder again. He and Leo say their goodbyes and move on to the next classroom on their route.

The remainder of the school day was agonizingly hectic. So much so that it meddled with his plan to swing by the auditorium where you held classes.

His projector kicked the bucket in the middle of his lecture on the two-way exchanges collectively known as the Columbian Exchange; Jeff couldn’t get it back into commission until his prep period, so he would have to explain how the triangular trade route emerged from colonial mercantilism policies in the new year. His 9th-grade World Geography class refused to participate in the activity he organized to mimic the Arctic landscape and harsh climate, so, somewhat reluctantly, he cut his losses and threw on an episode of Where On Earth Is Carmen Sandiego? And right before his sixth period, some bored senior pulled the fire alarm, forcing the entire school to spend the glacial afternoon lined up in the parking lot.

All that said, it was safe to say Mr. Skinner had never been happier to see his driveway and his dog than he was this evening. The border collie shepherd mix, Chips—affectionately named as a tribute to the trained sentry dog who became the most decorated canine in the Second World War—is waiting on the porch. Joyously, he howls when Jeff gets out of his car.

“Hey, buddy,” he says as he reaches down to scratch between the pup’s ears. Chips jumps up, his muddy paws landing on Jeff’s coat. He begins licking his owner’s cheeks with reckless abandon. “Okay, come on, crazy dog. Let’s get you back inside.”

Immediately after Jeff opens the front door, Chips darts down the hallway. He chuckles, shaking his head as he sheds his coat and tosses his keys into the bowl by the door.

Jeff rescued his dog as he was wrapping up his undergraduate degree at NC State, and the two were as thick as thieves up until a few years ago.

That’s not to say anything happened or there’s bad blood; Chips simply found a new favorite person.

Jeff trails after Chips, following the furry tail and the delicious scent wafting from the kitchen. He makes a pit stop at the fridge to grab a beer before turning to address his successor to the rescue's heart, standing at the stove stirring a giant pot of soup.  

“You won’t believe what happened in my second period today, babe. Every day, I’m surprised by how bold teenagers are. Hell, when I was their age, I was petrified to sharpen a pencil without asking. Their latest scheme wouldn’t have even crossed my mind. Seriously, I don’t think you could guess what shenanigans they got up to if you tried.”

He's met with melodic laughter, a sparkly sound that still makes his heart skip a beat.

“Maybe not, but I don’t need to.”

Jeff’s brows knit together, confused. Then his eyes zero in on the slip of paper identical to the one in his back pocket.

If it were possible, his jaw could sweep the tile floor.

“Guess we aren’t as sly as we think,” you smirk, waving a counterfeit Candy Cane Gram of your own in the air like a white flag.

my lovely patrons gained access to this piece on DEC 15, 2022. learn more HERE!

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[honeyeyesworld]

Snow day|| Jack Quinn

(None of the pictures are mine!!! Credits to the original owners 🫶)

Yourusername

Liked by: kennedyclairewalsh, tommer97 and more

Yourusername: And the snow day begins ❄️

(Ofc featuring my boyfriends boyfriends 🙄)

Tagged: jackquinn19

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dlevi_33: Still can’t believe you pushed Owen 🤣

↪️ Yourusername: he deserved it 🤝

User1: the snowmen 😂

jackquinn19: I love you snow much 💙☃️

↪️ owenpower_: 🤢

User4: the last slide Jack carried her 😭

↪️ user3: right 😭

User5: I just want to know what’s going on in the third slide 😭😭

jackquinn19: want to come over and make more snow angels…in bed 😏

↪️Yourusername: JACK (I’m on my way) 🫣

↪️ owenpower_: MY EYES

↪️: jj.peterka: 🤢🤢🤢

alextuch89: had a great time babysitting you guys!

dylan.cozens: let’s do it again next week 🤝

↪️ Yourusername: I hope the snow reminded you of home 🎅🎄🦌

↪️ dylan.cozens: I am NOT from the North Pole 😐

jackquinn19

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jackquinn19: when life gives you snow make snow angels 😏

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jj.peterka: I can’t look at you the same 🤢

User9: this is so cute 😭

Yourusername: Are you a snowball?? Because I bet you’ll melt in my hands…or mouth 🤭

↪️ dylan.cozens: please stop 🛑

↪️ jackquinn19: 😏😏

User10: ❤️

buffalosabers: ❄️☃️

[three-headed-monster]

how does one simply explain sabres ships to people???? like everyone thinks they have no ships when objectively they're all actually in love with each other sooooooo

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 23/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Washington, D.C.

The J. Edgar Hoover building is just as ugly as he remembers it, though the memory itself is foggy and based on only a few short visits during his training at Quantico. He decides that the best course of action is to join a guided tour, as opposed to attempting to explain his conundrum to security and likely finding himself escorted out of the building.

He woke early, pulled from sleep before sunrise by a confusing and haunting dream. Someone was screaming that name—Mulder—but he knew in his heart that it was directed towards him. A woman was calling for him with so much terror in her voice it made his stomach turn. The feeling that was still buzzing in his veins when he woke was stark helplessness, a feeling that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop whatever was happening to her.

Surrounded by tourists in jeans and Mount Vernon T-shirts, he stands out in his suit and tie until they pass through the metal detectors and enter the bowels of the building. It has the mildewed, dust-embedded smell of aged tile panels and burnt toner, which he finds oddly comforting. The guide points out key areas and retells the history of the Bureau in a practiced but unimpassioned monotone, and Jeff slowly drops back until he’s bringing up the rear of the little pack. When they come to the end of a hallway that breaks off in two directions, the rest of the group hangs left while he goes right, holding his head high and tucking the bottom half of his visitors pass into the breast pocket of his suit jacket to obscure the big block letters that give him away as a trespasser.

He wanders seemingly identical corridors, attempting to make eye contact with the other suit-wearing professionals who pass by in hopes that he will be met with recognition. To his surprise and disappointment, no one pays him any mind at all, save for one woman who gives him an appreciative leer and a wink. He starts to read the placards mounted on the wall beside each door: Electronic Records, Computer Crimes, Conference Room 403. Next to a stately looking set of double doors the placard reads “Walter Skinner- Assistant Director” and just after passing by he turns back and reads the sign again. The name feels familiar, though he cannot place it.

The latch on the door gives way with a sudden snap and he startles, taking one step back as a balding man in gold wire-rimmed glasses steps out and nearly crashes into him.

“Excuse me,” the man says brusquely as he pulls the door closed behind him. “Can I help you?”

He gives the man a once over. Tall, barrel-chested, his mouth set in a stoic but not unfriendly line. Again Jeff feels an unrooted sense of familiarity that he can’t tie to any event, or place, or time.

“Jeff Spender,” he says, offering his hand. The man takes it with an iron grip, holding Jeff’s eye as he pumps his arm up and down twice.

“Walter Skinner,” the man replies as he gives Jeff his own appraising look. His eye lingers on Jeff’s partially hidden badge before returning to his face, chin lifted in a show of dominance. “Are you with the Bureau, Mr. Spender?”

“Uh, formerly, yes,” he says, which is technically true. “Have you been with the Bureau long, Mr. Skinner?”

“Assistant Director,” Skinner corrects him. “And yes, over twenty years.”

“I’m actually looking for an agent, or potentially a former agent, who worked out of the Hoover. His name is Mulder. Do you know him, by chance?”

Assistant Director Skinner gives him a long look with unblinking eyes. Whatever thoughts are spinning behind those wire-rimmed glasses, he isn’t giving anything away.

“No, that name doesn’t sound familiar,” he finally says, and Jeff feels an odd mix of disappointment and relief. “Is there something else I can help you with?” Mr. Skinner continues. “Locating your tour group, perhaps?” he asks with a pointed look at the hidden badge.

Jeff feels his face grow warm, but he does his best to conceal his reaction.

“No, thank you, I was just headed back up to the lobby,” he says, then extends his hand again, which Mr. Skinner accepts. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

He turns and walks down the hall towards the elevators. After pressing the call button, he glances over his shoulder to find the Assistant Director still standing just outside his office door, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, watching him. He nods and the A.D. nods back, and the elevator doors slide open with a ding. Mr. Skinner continues to wait and watch as Jeff steps into the elevator and presses the button for the lobby, and it’s only when Skinner is about to disappear behind the closing doors that he finally turns away.

Jeff exhales forcefully, feeling like he dodged a bullet, and the car lurches and then begins to descend. The lights illuminate as they pass by the fourth, third, and second floors, and then the doors slide open to reveal the bustling lobby of the building. Jeff moves to the side as all the other occupants file out, but he doesn’t exit. On impulse, he reaches out and hits the button marked “B” and the doors slide closed again, carrying him underground.

He is delivered to a nondescript hallway intermittently lined with metal shelves and sagging copy paper boxes. It’s eerily quiet and seemingly unoccupied, but he still winces at the loud clip of his wingtips on the linoleum. He passes by a supply closet, a set of bathrooms, and an unmarked door before the hallway ends at a stairwell that advertises itself to be an emergency exit only. He turns back, feeling frustrated and confused.

He pauses just outside the unmarked door. Like Assistant Director Skinner’s office, he’s compelled to take a closer look without understanding why. He grabs the doorknob and is caught off guard by a sudden flush of warmth spreading from the crown of his head and down his body. It’s a peaceful, content sensation that evokes a strong emotional response, and he clears his throat as it tightens. With a shake of his head, he turns the knob and pushes the door open.

The room is rectangular with a second, glass enclosed area at one end. There’s a desk pushed into one corner, and heaps of boxes are piled on its surface as well as the surrounding floor. It looks long unused, but it doesn’t have the musky, moldering smell he’d expect. It smells faintly like perfume, actually, so faint that he can’t identify the source of it. He approaches the desk and pulls open one of the drawers, which is a clutter of pens and paper clips, and a stack of post-it notes with “sucker” written on the top note in neat, flowing script.

His phone rings and he startles, scrambling for his pocket as his heart pushes up into his throat and then begins to hammer.

“Hello?”

“Jeff. Where are you?”

His heart sinks.

“Hey, Diana, how’s the case going?” he asks casually, kicking at the carpet with the toe of his shoe. It looks relatively new and out of place in such a forgotten corner of the building.

“Fine. I tried your office and the house but you didn’t answer. Where are you?” she repeats, barely concealing the irritation in her voice.

“I’m in D.C., actually,” he tells her, his tone indicating that she should take this to be good news. “I wanted to surprise you.”

There is a long, sharp silence.

“I very explicitly asked you not to come down, Jeff,” she says carefully.

“I know, but I—”

“I’m not interested in hearing whatever bullshit justification you cooked up,” she interrupts. “Meet me at my hotel in two hours. And in case this isn’t clear to you, Jeff, I am very unhappy right now,” she concludes.

Something blunt bounces off the top of his head and he winces, touching the spot on his scalp that it collided with.

“Diana, I’m sorry—”

The line goes dead, and he tucks his phone back into his pocket. On the floor beside his feet he finds the offending item: an extremely sharp pencil with a pristine, unused eraser. He looks around, trying to locate the source of the projectile, and then finally he tips his face up to the ceiling. There are at least a dozen more, all wedged into the ceiling tiles, and countless pockmarks indicating that they are far from the first batch. He tucks the pencil into the pocket of his jacket and makes his way back to the lobby. He’s on the other side of security, steps away from the front doors, when someone calls his name.

“Spender!” says a man, blond and bulky with a cheesy smile. “No shit, it’s really you!”

Jeff narrows his eyes and searches the man’s face, but he isn’t familiar. The two men walk toward one another and meet with a quick, casual handshake.

“I apologize, I can’t seem to recall your name,” Jeff says, chagrined, and the man makes an exaggerated expression of incredulity, holding his arms out and dropping his jaw in mock offense.

“It’s Nick Sellers, man! I can’t believe you don’t remember me!” he chides playfully, slapping Jeff on the upper arm.

“Sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be,” he admits, still coming up empty even with a name to accompany the face.

“Don’t worry about it. The Academy was, what, almost fifteen years ago now?”

The Academy. Quantico. He still can’t remember the man, but knowing that he was a fellow recruit is helpful context.

“Has it been that long? It feels like lifetimes ago,” Jeff says. “You work out of the Hoover?” he asks, and Nick nods.

“Been here since I finished basic training,” Nick says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ve seen a lot of new agents come and go, but few with as much promise as young Jeffrey Spender,” he adds teasingly.

“Yeah, well, I think I’ve done alright,” Jeff offers demurely, and suddenly Nick perks up.

“Hey, we should grab lunch and catch up. Are you free now? I was just about to walk down to Old World Deli.”

Jeff checks his watch. He isn’t in any hurry to face Diana, and he hasn’t eaten anything since before leaving Philly. And if Nick has been working at the Hoover all this time, he must know something about Mulder.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he agrees, and the two men exit the building side by side.

The Old World Deli is noisy and bustling with a melting pot of suited professionals and wide-eyed tourists, and offers an assortment of sandwiches and salads. The first forty minutes of their meal are spent catching up on their lives since Jeff left the Academy, and he pretends to recall information Nick offers about himself and the classes they were in together at Quantico. Jeff learns that Nick works in counter-terrorism, has a wife and two children, and an alarming level of hatred for the San Francisco 49ers. As they finish their meals, the pressure of time asserts itself and Jeff decides that it’s now or never.

“During your time at the Hoover, have you ever worked with or known of an agent with the last name Mulder?” he asks with what he hopes is a casual tone.

Nick sits back in his chair and pushes his bottom lip out, considering.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, why?” he says after a beat, and Jeff shrugs.

“What about Dana Scully? Was there an agent by that name?”

“Dana Scully?” Nick repeats, and Jeff nods. “No, never heard of her.”

Jeff sighs and runs one hand across the back of his neck.

“Is something the matter, Jeff? You seem…I don’t know, unsettled, I guess,” Nick says sincerely, tossing his napkin on his plate.

Jeff looks at this man, who is purportedly a friend but whom he cannot remember. There’s really no way to tell the story that doesn’t sound preposterous, but he feels like he’s so close to an answer, and he can’t afford not to take every shot available. He leans in and Nick mirrors him, the two men now huddled over the remains of their lunch.

“This is going to sound crazy,” he begins, and Nick cracks a small, skeptical smile. “Twice now I’ve had someone, complete strangers, tell me that I look exactly like a man named Mulder. The second time it happened, they told me that this man, Mulder, worked at the FBI, out of the Hoover, and his partner was a redhead named Dana Scully.” Nick’s eyebrows lift, but he doesn’t say anything. “If it were just the one time, I could write it off as a coincidence, but twice? I feel like there’s something to it, and that’s why I drove down here. But so far all I’m hitting are dead ends.”

Nick watches him for a moment, blinking rapidly.

“That uh…that sounds disturbing, Jeff. I can see why that would be…disturbing,” he says haltingly. “But you know, stuff like that happens all the time.”

Jeff cocks his head and scoffs.

“Does it? Do you regularly have strangers call you by another name? Mistake you for someone else?” he asks, slightly less kindly than he intended.

Another blank stare, another series of erratic blinks.

“Yeah, I mean…you know, um…hey, maybe we can go back to the Hoover and ask them to look at the employee files and see if there are any Mulders in there, would that make you feel better?”

A momentary surge of excitement quickly dissipates.

“Sure, but that kind of information is confidential, isn’t it?” he counters. “You can’t just waltz into HR and ask them to search employee files.”

Nick’s mouth hangs open for a beat.

“I work in HR,” he says awkwardly. “I can look it up. Just, uh, don’t tell anyone, okay?” he adds with a nervous laugh.

“I thought you said you worked in counter-terrorism,” Jeff points out.

“Right,” Nick says, then just stares at him. “My wife works in HR,” he blurts out.

“Your wife who you just told me ten minutes ago stays at home with your kids?” Jeff asks.

Now Nick’s mouth is opening and closing like a hungry fish, his eyes flicking back and forth. Jeff hears the squabble of radio chatter, and then a shriek of feedback that makes Nick’s hand fly to his ear.

“Fuck!” he says sharply, turning away.

Cortisol. Adrenaline. Fight or flight kicks into gear. Jeff pushes away from the table, the screech of his chair drawing looks from surrounding patrons.

“Jeff, wait,” Nick says, knocking his own chair over as he quickly stands.

Jeff doesn’t stick around to hear what he has to say. He runs back to his car, his lungs burning, and drives across town to Diana’s hotel. He came to D.C. looking for answers, but so far all he has are more questions.

-

Diana is much later than promised, and he waits for her with raw nerves and a pit in his belly.

He’s more sure than ever that something untoward is going on here. That man, Nick, was some kind of decoy, being fed information and answers—but why? Someone is going to great lengths to prevent him from uncovering who Mulder is, and the more roadblocks they throw in his path, the more desperate he is for answers.

Diana slumps through the door and gives him a weary look before she kicks off her heels and crosses to the bathroom. He’d forgotten, in his panic over his unsettling lunch date, that she’s upset with him. That suddenly feels like the least of his problems. She returns in cotton lounge pants and a T-shirt, leaning against the counter of the kitchenette and leveling him with an irritated glare.

“Diana, I know you’re pissed at me, but something is going on and I need your help getting to the bottom of it,” he says, making no attempt to placate her.

“You need my help?” she repeats with a scoff. “I’m busy, Jeff. I’m working. That’s why I came down here, you may recall.”

“Listen to me, Diana. Do you remember that name I mentioned? Mulder?”

Her expression falls momentarily, but she quickly recovers.

“Sure, from your little friend in the coffee shop,” she says derisively.

“Well, it happened again. Someone called me that name: Mulder. It’s no coincidence, and it’s not meaningless. There’s something to this, Diana, and someone is trying to keep me from figuring out what,” he tells her.

“Who else called you that?” she asks, seeming unsettled.

“A new patient. I went by the Hoover today and ran into some guy—Nick Sellers—and he told me we were at the Academy together but I don’t remember him at all. Do you remember that name?”

“Sure, Nick Sellers. I think he’s in counter-terrorism now,” she says flatly.

“Well I’ve never seen the guy before in my life,” he continues, “and some of the things he was saying weren’t adding up. But the kicker is, I think he was wearing an earpiece.”

Diana stares at him for a beat, then moves away from the counter and begins to rummage in the mini fridge.

“Do you want a drink?” she asks, and he feels a flare of anger.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” he barks at her.

“Yes, Jeff, I’m listening to what you’re saying,” she says tartly, her back still to him. “You sound like one of those paranoid conspiracy theorists.”

He blinks at her, flabbergasted.

“Are you serious? You don’t find it at all strange that twice in the past week and a half someone I don’t recognize has called me by a name I’ve never heard? And that my new patient said this Mulder person worked for the FBI?” He decides to leave off the detail about Dana Scully and the coffee shop, lest she get the wrong idea.

“What I find strange,” she says as she begins to mix an airplane bottle of rum and a can of coke, “is that you drove down here even after I very explicitly asked you not to.” She picks up the empty ice bucket and turns to him, holding it out. “Would you go get some ice, please?”

White hot rage floods his veins. He stands and takes two steps forward, snatching the ice bucket out of her hand and tossing it into the corner of the room. Diana doesn’t flinch, just watches him with a carefully neutral expression.

“Why are you so hung up on me driving down here?” he shouts. “I’m telling you that I think something seriously disturbing is happening to me, and all you care about is that I didn’t follow your fucking orders? Are you my wife or my warden, Diana?!”

Her jaw sets and she re-crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Your warden?” she repeats in a low growl. “Is that how you see me? I’m not the one who cheated, Jeff. That was you. I’m not the one who lies.”

“That was years ago, Diana! I know I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. I truly am sorry every day. But I–I can’t live like this forever. I can’t live under your microscope.”

He’s softening a bit under the weight of his guilt. She has a way of doing this, of making him forget why he’s angry by reminding him what he put her through.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t want you to come down here, Jeff?” she asks tightly. He nods. “Your father is being sued. Some business deal out of Washington that went sideways—the details don’t matter. But I was trying to respect his privacy. He didn’t want you to know.”

There it is again, that familiar sickening feeling. Somehow, he’s always the one who is in the wrong.

“Oh,” he says, lamely.

“Maybe if you could just trust me, Jeff, if you could just believe that I have your best interests at heart, you wouldn’t feel like I have you under a microscope,” she says with equal parts sadness and anger.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sitting heavily on the foot of the bed.

Diana slowly moves to sit beside him and rests her hand on his knee.

“I’m worried about you,” she says gently. “All this about someone wearing a wire—maybe your head injury was more severe than we thought. Have you been taking your medication?”

“Sometimes. Not very consistently,” he admits.

“Maybe you should take some time off work, make an appointment with Dr. Phan and get checked out,” she suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you promise me you’ll go home tomorrow? Take your meds and get some rest? Maybe you just need a break, Jeff.”

“Okay. I will. I’ll head home in the morning.”

“Good. Hey,” she says, waiting until he looks at her. “I’m on your side,” she tells him with an affectionate smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”

He forces a smile in return, though he feels anything but happy. He feels like his grip on reality is loosening by the minute.

“Thanks, Diana. I’m sorry I’ve been so—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupts him. “For better or for worse, right?”

“Right.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

[nhl-stories]

To celebrate Pride Month I wanted to compiled a list of fics featuring queer characters. Because if this sport won't be as accepting as we want it to be we'll make it queerer ourselves

This is very much a non-exhaustive list and if you have a fic to add to the list please send my way!

• Serotonin - Cale Makar x Non-binary OC

• Them - Jakob Chychrun x Non-Binary OC

• Gotta Trust How You Feel Inside - Jeff Skinner x Non-Binary OC

• Hydrangeas Where Your Face Should Be - Dougie Hamilton x Trans OC

• You Stupid Bitch - Leon Draisaitl x Pansexual OC

• Fool's Holiday - Dougie Hamilton x Bisexual OC

• Until the Light Shines Through - Quinn Hughes x Bisexual OC

• Matthew Tkachuk x Bisexual Female Reader

• Think I Could Love You- Zach Aston-Reese x Asexual OC

Fics that feature queer side characters (because otherwise this list might be wayyy too short):

* Capricious- Brandon Tanev feat Drag queen gay couple

[cuttergauthier]

Who I Write For

Hey everyone this is a list of who I write for.

If you have someone else in mind, send me an ask and i’ll let you know if i want to write for him. I’m not picky

Also if anyone would want me to start an AU let me know!

How to request

I DO NOT WRITE SMUT

New jersey Devils

Jack Hughes

Nathan Bastian

Dawson Mercer

Luke Hughes

Nico Hischier

Timo Meier

Brendan Smith

Vancouver Canucks

Quinn Hughes

Brock Boeser

Elias Pettersson

Cole McWard

Anthony Beauvillier

Dakota Joshua

Toronto Maple Leafs

Mitch Marner

Auston Matthews

William Nylander

Matthew Knies

Morgan Reilly

Buffalo Sabres

Owen Powers

Tyson Jost

Devon Levi

Erik Johnson

Jeff Skinner

Tage Thompson

Dylan Cozens

Casey Mittelstadt

Carolina Hurricanes

Michael Bunting

Andrei Svechnikov

Jack Drury

Pittsburgh Penguins

Pierre-Oliver Joseph

Ryan Graves

Ty Smith

Columbus Blue Jackets

Nick Blankenburg

Kent Johnson

Cole Sillinger

Adam Boqvist

Zach Werenski

Adam Fantilli

Vegas Golden Knights

Brendan Brisson

San Jose Sharks

Thomas Bordeleau

Tristen Robins

William Eklund

Henry Thrun

Luke Kunin

Anaheim Ducks

Trevor Zegras

Mason McTavish

John Gibson

Frank Vatrano

St Louis Blues

Jake Neighbours

Colton Parayko

Ottawa Senators

Josh Norris

Brady Tkachuk

Mathieu Joseph

Jakob Chychrun

Zack MacEwen

Tim Stutzle

Thomas Chabot

Minnesota Wilds

Matt Boldy

Brock Faber

Brandon Duhaime

Los Angeles Kings

Alex Turcotte

Quinn Byfield

Brandt Clarke

Pierre Luc Dubois

Alex Laferriere

Florida Panthers

Matthew Tkachuk

Sam Bennett

Mackie Samoskevich

William Lockwood

Aaron Ekblad

Josh Mahura

Brandon Montour

Colorado Avalanche

Cale Makar

Bowen Byram

Nate Mackinnon

Miles Wood

Detroit Red Wings

J.T. Compher

Dylan Larkin

Joe Veleno

Jake Walman

Boston Bruins

Mason Lohrei

Johnny Beecher

Jeremy Swayman

Jake Debrusk

Charlie Mcavoy

Montreal Canadiens

Cole Caufield

Arber Xhekaj

Kirby Dach

Christian Dvorak

Alex Newhook

New York Islanders

Noah Dobson

Mat Barzal

Philadelphia Flyers

Morgan Frost

Cam York

Jamie Drysdale

Joe Farabee

Tyson Foerster

Noah Cates

New York Rangers

Alexis Lafrenière

Adam Fox

K’Andre Miller

Braden Schneider

Chris Kreider

Zac Jones

Arizona Coyotes

Logan Cooley

Dylan Guenther

Clayton Keller

Nick Schmaltz

Chicago Blackhawks

Lukas Reichel

Seth Jones

Alex Vlasic

Connor Bedard

Tampa Bay Lightnings

Brandon Hagel

Anthony Cirelli

Seattle Kraken

Brandon Tanev

Jamie Oleksiak

Philipp Grubauer

Will Borgen

Dallas Stars

Wyatt Johnston

Jake Oettinger

Rope Hintz

Craig Smith

University of Michigan

Luca Fantili

Rutger McGroarty

Nick Moldenhauer

Phil Lapointe

Jacob Truscott

Tyler Duke

Marshall Warren

Frank Nezar

Ethan Edwards

Michigan State University

Red Savage

Isaac Howard

Maxim Štrbák

Ohio State University

Joe Dunlap

Cam Thiesing

Davis Burnside

Caden Brown

Matt Cassidy

Minnesota University

Luke Mittelstadt

Jimmy Snuggerud

Ryan Chesley

Oliver Moore

Brody Lamb

Boston College

Cutter Gauthier

Will Smith

Ryan Leonard

Gabe Perreault

Drew Fortescue

Jacob Fowler

Will Vote

University of Wisconsin

Cruz Lucius

Charlie Stramel

Zach Schulz

Random Teams

Nick Granowicz

Jay Keranen

Colton Dach

Nathan Gaucher

+ more

AU’s 

Nick Granowicz x Msu Reader

Josh Norris x Tkachuk sister

Trevor Zegras x Hughes sister

Cutter Gauthier x Hughes sister

Matthew Knies x Matthews sister

Jack Hughes x Mercer au

[stupidmink]

thanks @kiki-inthehoodie for tagging me in this! ❤️

no°1 team?

i def do not have a favorite team lmaooo. i could never choose. some of my favs are the devils (obviously), ducks, canes, and sabres!

your favorite goalie?

i love jeremy swayman and joseph woll too much…

10 what would be your jersey number?

7, 17, or anything with a 7 in it. idk why, but i just love the number 7.

what team would you love to play for?

no team in canada (USA BABYYYY 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅)

& who is your favorite player currently?

so so so many. nico probably rn (as you can probably tell by all of my posts about him) but it changes so often. other players i like include jamie drysdale, jeff skinner, joseph woll, brock boeser, moritz seider, and way more.

trade that hurt you emotionally?

i haven’t been in the hockey community long enough to have experienced a heart breaking trade. calling myself lucky for that one. the closest i’ve come is boeser trade rumors that had me in shambles.

what is your experience on hockeyblr so far?

i think hockeblr is the best hockey social media esp compared to twitter (or X). i just love the community here and it always feels like i’m talking to friends when i read posts. sometimes with a few of my mutual, i feel like i’m literally them. it’s so weird but they way they talk or think about stuff is the same way i do and it’s so much fun!

and then tag some mutuals you'd like to know these about:

@nicohischier @raftings @reynoldswrld @fortythreed @toffoliravioli (even though i’ve never talked to some of you, pls know i love y’all)

[wyattjohnston]

Free Field: What do you want to see more of in general?

if you are in a player tag and see this please scroll past, i'm sorry

Please read this in conjunction with the rest of the results.

Friends to Lovers – 9 People

Player Diversity – 8 people

Older players! (4)

Main Character Diversity – 8 People

POC main characters

Non-binary main characters

Masc readers! (2!)

Gender neutral readers

Formatting – 7 People

Read Mores

Summaries

Word Counts

Alternating POVs

More Dialogue

AUs – 7 people

Royalty AU

College AU

Soulmate AUs

Specific Players - 7 People

Arber Xhekaj

Brandon Hagel

Jeff Skinner

John Marino

Sidney Crosby

Teuvo Teravainen

UMich Players

Fluff – 6 people

Smut – 6 People

Threesomes

Strangers to Lovers – 5

Longer fics – 4 people

Chaptered fic

Hurt/Comfort – 4 People

OCs – 3 people

Angst – 3 People

Pregnancy – 3 People

Surprise pregnancy

Realism – 3 People

Including taking the time to learn a City and it’s geography/culture

Fake Dating – 2 People

Enemies to Lovers – 2 People

Found Family – 2 People

Kids/Babies – 2 People

MC Is Hockey Player - 2 People

The following were said by 1 person

Angst With A Happy Ending

Canes

Career Women

Chaptered Fics

Cheating

Childhood Friends To Lovers

Domesticity

Established Relationships

Exes To Lovers

Familial

Famous Reader

Florida Panthers

Forced Proximity

Friends With Benefits To Lovers

Geography

Grumpy X Sunshine

Habs

Holiday Diversity

Insta Edits

Love At First Sight

Love Triangle

Married Life X Kids

Meet Cute

Miscommunication

Only One Bed

Player Falls First

Princess Reader

Rivals To Lovers

Secret Relationships

Song-Based Fics

player using nicknames in their dialogue over “y/n” (baby/sweetheart/love)

if an author has an old work they and other people love would love a revisit especially if a player has since been traded or injured or even retired love to see where old relationships have gone in a one shot

I would love to see fics break away from the mould of traditional romance novels! I'm not a fan of third act breakups or other unnecessary issues for the sake of plot, and I think there are a lot of ways to write a good story without those elements and would love to see the creativity that comes from exploring alternatives!!

Angst and make-ups that don’t end in sex. I like that there’s other ways to makeup. Also good communication!! As someone who has never been in a relationship, good communication is great for me to like start to understand what a healthy relationship could look like

would love to see more enemies to lovers without someone being embarrassed or humiliated so I guess more rivals to lovers where there's a mutual respect but you still don't like them until one key moment, friendship dynamics with the other players on the li team, moving to a new city and meeting the player by happenstance in like a grocery store or coffee shop, soc-med team x player, first person they meet outside their organization after being traded

[moregraceful]

Idk about you but I'm exercising my right as an unhinged hockey fan to derail the all star game with my gay little fan vote. Hotel x has nothing on me voting jack Eichel, Leon draisaitl, mats zuccarello, and Jeff skinner+ Eric staal djfjfjfkfj.

- 💖

literally...like what is the purpose of the all star game if not for drunk horny idiots to wild out. the nhl deigned to allow us the fan vote and it is our bettman-given right to enable as much gay chaos as possible

[matthewtkachuk]

if i showed up on your doorstep at 2 am, would you slam the door in my face or invite me in - jeff skinner

Despite a decades long friendship, the revelation that your best friend Jeff loved you resulted in you moving home and cutting him off completely. Two years later you show up on his doorstep.

pairing: jeff skinner x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of alcohol

word count: 9k

a/n: y'all made me do it. special thanks to everyone who read this on google docs and gave their opinion on the perfume they wear

It’s a two hour drive from Markham to Buffalo.

Jeff knows this because he’s made the drive plenty of times - for family dinners and his mom’s birthday and celebratory drinks when Jill got her first job out of college.

He also knows this because that’s how far away you are physically, but mentally and emotionally you’re oceans away.

Best friends from an early age, you were an honorary Skinner before you could even read. They loved you like you were family, and you loved them that fiercely in return. Well, almost all of them. You and Jeff had always had a special bond, far beyond that of any of his other siblings or your own. A bond so special you had no problem following him to Carolina when he was drafted.

Things had broken down spectacularly in Carolina, a string of miscommunications and hurt feelings snowballing until not a single scrap of your friendship remained. Words were exchanged, shouted and screamed and sobbed, and then silence. The only sound after was the click of the door that you shut behind you.

Last he heard you were well on your way to becoming someone else’s wife.

It’s not the same guy you had been dating when things fell apart in your friendship. No, you’d cut that one loose when you fled for the familiarity of home. Nick was someone you’d both grown up with, part of your friend group but never able to breach the inner circle that was you and Jeff. Until you’d shown up broken-hearted in your hometown and ran into him down Main Street.

Jeff’s got a lot of regrets - missed shots and unnecessary penalty minutes, the doubt that creeps in when he’s in the middle of a scoring drought - but his biggest regret is letting you slip through his fingers. Because for as long as Jeff can remember, it’s always been you. Even when he didn’t know it, even when girls had cooties, even when he was still denying it himself, it’s always been you.

It’s too bad that for you, it wasn’t Jeff.

That’s about where things broke down in the kitchen of the home you shared in Raleigh. It was the same old story - the guy you had been seeing had been treating you wrong. Ignoring your messages for days, breaking plans and just overall acting shady. Out of concern for you, and with the unofficial support of a few friends you’d made out there, he’d cornered you in that kitchen to tell you that you deserved more.

He’d been right, of course, but the confrontation had sparked your fight or flight. As someone who’d never ran from a fight or adversity before, you’d dug your heels into the ground and raised your fists.

It was then, in the midst of a terrible fight that you’d realized the truth. Your friendship with Jeff was built on a lie. Because as much as you had always thought he respected you as a friend and as a person, Jeff had spent the entirety of your friendship halfway in love with you.

Fear gripping your heart and entirely on edge, you’d laughed. You’d laughed and absolutely destroyed him. More words were exchanged between the two of you and then nothing. Words you’d never take back, words he desperately wished he could.

A lifetime of friendship gone in the blink of an eye and he still didn’t know how it happened. He’d gone over it a hundred different times in a hundred different ways and he still didn’t understand it. How he’d wanted all of you, but settled for most of you. How he didn’t even have some of you anymore, how he really had none of you now.

How he had to hear thirdhand from his sister who heard from your brother that you were now sporting an expensive ring on your left hand from a guy who used to put gum in your hair.

He supposes it’s a cute story, a real lifetime original movie of a romance.

He realizes he probably won’t even get to see a wedding picture.

Buffalo was an easy choice when his contract ended and your perfume no longer lingered in his home.

He’s happy here - a lot closer to his family, and the guys on the team are a good bunch. They’re struggling, and he’s not putting up the numbers he all but promised when he signed his name on the dotted line, but they’re working hard and he’s optimistic.

There’s only one real other downside here.

You’re a two hour drive away, but you’ve never been so mentally and emotionally far away.

-

Two hours away, your life isn’t the picture perfect made for TV movie romance it appears to be. Sure, you’ve got the ring and the guy and the condo with the great view. You’ve got an okay job and your parents are proud of you, except... Except. Except. Except.

Except the metal of the ring is a gaudy yellow gold, when silver has been your preferred style since junior high. Except the condo with the great view doesn’t even have your name on the lease. Except your okay job is slowly killing you, your boss is a dick and your coworkers talk shit about you behind your back and you feel like you’re wasting your degree with menial tasks.

Except the guy isn’t who you thought he was, hell he’s not even who he was only a few short months ago before he put the lurid ring on your finger after a proposal that was far too public for your liking. Nick had been so attentive and sweet, reeling you in with honeyed compliments and promises, dates where time felt like it hadn’t passed at all yet like you’d lived a hundred lives together. Now, Nick paid more attention to the television or his secretary or his phone than you.

Once, Nick had been a cold beer on the patio kind of guy. Now, you couldn’t remember the last time you had spent more than five minutes with him sober.

He didn’t hit you, he didn’t cheat on you, he didn’t belittle you. It also felt like he didn’t love you.

The pressure is stifling, the weight of your burdens suffocating. The ring on your hand and the promise on your tongue are leaden and heavy. Every day you wake up and wonder if you’re making a mistake. Every day you wake up and think about how all you’ve ever done in your life is make mistakes.

Except Jeff.

Until you’d made a mistake there, too.

When you let your fears and anxieties dictate your behavior. When you’d ran at the first sign of trouble. When you’d used his feelings as a scapegoat, pushing and pulling and gnawing at that hurt in your chest rather than acknowledge your own hidden feelings beside it.

Nick shifts in bed beside you, limbs half hanging off the edge of the bed in an attempt to keep as much distance between you as possible. At least, that’s what it feels like. Once, you’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Once, you sought out each other’s familiar warmth at night. Once, you’d woken up limbs as entangled as your hearts and souls.

The clock on your nightstand reads midnight, but it could be any time and no time at all as far as you’re concerned. You slip from bed and pull on a hoodie. It’s old and faded and Jeff’s. Looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror you search for even a fraction of who you used to be, a hint of the girl you used to see reflected back at you. She’s not there.

But you can try and find her again.

Quietly, you pack a bag and write a note in your sloped handwriting with a blue pen on the back of a takeout menu. Gently, you place the yellow gold ring beside it and slip out into the night.

-

Carolina is warm. Like your mother’s embrace, like your niece’s laughter, like Jeff’s smile. Many people told you that you would regret following him out here, but you didn’t think you ever would. Because alongside seeing your best friend on a near daily basis, you’d also accumulated a solid group of friends with your best interests at heart, and you’d even found yourself someone to love the way you always wanted.

If that desire to love and be loved in return blinded you to the reality of your relationship, that was between you and him as far as you were concerned. Even as your friends grew worried, you brushed off their concerns and made excuses. He’s just working late, he’s just busy, he lost track of time. They let it go, let you sit in your own delusions of grandeur as you live in Jeff’s apartment and date someone who doesn’t deserve you and on and on.

Until Jeff can’t anymore.

Until you’re sitting on your shared couch with your makeup done just right, the pretty little black dress you’d been planning on wearing safely tucked back in your closet, and the most melancholy expression on your face.

It breaks Jeff’s heart, really it does. And not only because he’s been in love with you since before he knew there was a name for what he was feeling in his chest, but because you’re his best friend and you deserve a lot more than some broken promises and empty words. He bites his tongue through the entirety of a Leafs game you’d insisted the two of you watch together, even as your voice was barren of all emotion.

But then the game is over, and you’re moving robotically through the kitchen, movement broken and hindered just as your spirit is and suddenly Jeff can’t hold it in anymore.

“You can’t keep letting him do it to you.” It’s blurted and messy, but it does it’s job, the words shaking you from your emotional zombie like state.

“What are you talking about?” You try to deflect, try to answer him with a question, try to ignore the pit growing in your stomach.

Unfortunately for you, Jeff knows you better than probably any other person on the planet, and certainly better than anyone in Carolina. “He treats you like shit and you just let him.”

“What am I supposed to do? Break up with him?” You scoff, “I love him Jeff! So what if he misses date night now and then or doesn’t always answer when I call? I love him!”

He turns on you quickly, desperation swimming in his eyes. He wants to tell you everything. Wants to wrap you up in his arms and love you right. But that’s not who you are and that’s not what you do, so instead he tries to get you to see reason. “Do you? Or are you just so blinded by your desire to be loved that you can’t see that he’s not good enough for you?”

It stings because you know he’s right. Deep down, you know you deserve more than half baked apologies and a derelict of a boyfriend. But you also fear that this might be it, your only shot at that happiness. So what if your boyfriend isn’t perfect. Show you a guy who is? For a moment you stare at Jeff, but that just brings on another wave of fear and anxiety and so you shout. “Oh and who is good enough for me huh? Please tell me I am so curious to know.”

It’s silent then as your words sink in all around you both. They twist and turn and curl around you, cutting you off from Jeff as it hits you.

Oh.

Oh.

He feels it too, your sudden realization and it’s terrifying. It’s terrifying and scary and every other adjective out there to have his heart ripped from his chest and beating on the kitchen island for you to finally, really and truly, see.

And then you laugh. It’s not the laughter that he loves to hear, not the sweet giggle turned into gasping howls when you find amusement in something beautiful the world has to offer. It’s maniacal and hysterical and just fucking cruel as you gaze on his vulnerability and laugh.

He feels his heart break, feels it absolutely shatter as you pack your shit and go. Feels it as you sweep up the fractured pieces and deposit them directly in the trash.

It’s silent when you finally leave, no trace of your laughter remaining.

You don’t look back.

-

His phone reads 2 am when Jeff rolls over in bed to check it. For a moment he’s confused, disoriented and dazed as he tries to figure out what has woken him. And then he hears the frantic knocking at his front door. He gets up quickly, pulling on a pair of sweatpants in case it’s sweet Mrs. Higgins at the door. It wouldn’t be the first time she knocked on his door, but never this early in the morning. The thought of it potentially being some emergency has his movements quickening, hastened by the thought of something terrible wrong.

Except, instead of the sweet elderly lady who lives across the hall, it’s you in a pair of athletic shorts and a sweater of his he hadn’t seen since you left.

Maybe it’s stupid, but he thought you would look different. You don’t, though. Your hair is the same tone it’s always been, framing your face the way it always has. Even the sight of you in his hoodie is familiar, even as it warms him from the inside out. If he didn’t know better, didn’t have months and months of angst and pining and regret, he could almost pretend he was back in Carolina and you were still oblivious to the way you held his heart in your hands.

Almost.

Because alongside the warmth and the desire to pull you into his arms is the quiet devastation of your laughter and the thought of the large ring you should be wearing on your left hand. Jeff’s never been the kind of guy who could school his emotions, his grin too bright and uncontrollable like the sun rising in the east. Contrarily, every negative emotion rolls across his face more akin to large storm clouds rolling over the horizon. Now, confusion is written clear as day in the lines of his face as his eyes focus on the tan line in lieu of an engagement ring.

The silence is almost as stifling as the thought of the future you had been building. You don’t know what to say though, no words seeming big enough to fully encapsulate all you’re feeling. Truth be told, you don’t have a good reason for showing up here at two in the morning on his doorstep. There really isn’t a good reason. You don’t have a script carefully created, or a detailed pro con list, or a venn diagram showing the intersectionality of past and future and present.

He looks good, even if the expression on his face is more akin to shock than joy, even if he kinda looks like he could cry, even if you feel like you’re about to. You miss him. He’s right fucking there and you miss him. It’s been a dull ache in your chest in the past two years, but now the pain is sharp and shooting, radiating from the top of your head to your toes. Even just being here, in his presence, it’s like finally coming up for air after being stuck at the bottom of a swimming pool. Oxygen floods your lungs for the first time in months, a fog lifts from your mind, but the dark cloud remains shrouding you both. Because it’s still silent, and you’re itching to run.

To him, from him, into his arms, back into the night. You’re not entirely sure, but the urge is there all the same. Something deep within you calls to him, but something a lot closer to the surface is screaming at you to go. You shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have left Nick, certainly shouldn’t have driven two hours in the middle of the night.

But then he’s opening his arms and you fall right into them, like you were meant to do it all along. You fit like two puzzle pieces, even if the picture they’re part of is faded and worn, even if the edges are bent and torn, even if it takes a little wiggling to get them to fit together just right.

“How did we get here?” you blurt stupidly, the filter between your brain and your mouth nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t immediately react, not verbally at least, but you feel him stiffen all around you. Very carefully, he pulls back from you, a near unreadable expression on his face. The way his eyebrows have come together in the middle of his face tells you he’s upset. The lack of a smile only further validates the thought. “I mean- That’s not what I wanted to say-”

You see the internal struggle play out on his face through the scrunching of his nose, the twitching of his jaw. Finally, he settles on something simple. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know Jeff,” you sigh in return. It’s not the right thing, not even close. You know that before he reacts, but you still wince at the look he gives you. It’s broken, desperate, practically begging for you to lay your cards out on the table.

“That’s bullshit,” he replies, uttering your name. “Tell me the truth, what are you doing here at an apartment you’ve never been to in the middle of the night without your engagement ring? Huh?”

“Jeff-”

“Tell me the truth, please.” He’s not so much angry as he is hurt, and confused. Scared too, that you’re about to run off on him again but he can’t just sit here and let you pretend like you have no idea what possessed you to drive two hours to him in the middle of the night. “Not a word out of you in two years, and then you just show up here. Tell me the truth.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Jeff, okay? I don’t know! I don’t know if I’m still engaged, I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to reach out-” It’s not exactly true, but you’re not lying either. You’re not being purposefully deceitful, but the two hour drive hadn’t given you the clarity you’d hoped you’d find before ending up here.

“Are we just not going to talk about it?” He doesn’t have to elaborate further, despite your clear desire to ignore the fight that wrecked you both, it weighs as heavily on you as it does him. It kills you to think he doesn’t see that. As if he couldn’t see how destroyed you were by the thought of your life moving on without him in any capacity.

“I don’t- I don’t think there’s anything to talk about that other than what has already been said,” you say quietly, trying to keep your voice neutral. You cringe as you watch the anger light within him, the struck match finding the kerosene soaked rag you’d left behind.

“Jesus, you’re acting like I did something wrong. Like- Like I’d destroyed some precious family heirloom or kissed your sister something. Stop deflecting, my only crime was in loving you.” And there it is again, although this time spelled out a lot more clearly.

Love.

Jeff loved you.

Like, romantic, two and a half kids and a dog and a big house in the suburbs love. And you didn’t love Jeff like that, don’t love Jeff like that. Right?

He continues, taking your silence as an invitation to further the conversation, but it feels a lot more like a talking to than anything. “I never asked for anything from you. Ever. In the twenty some years of our friendship, I never asked you to want me or love me back. I never even told you that I loved you. You figured it out and you laughed at me and you ran. And then I didn’t hear from you for two years. I had to find out from my sister who found out from your brother that you were engaged to that dick who used to tease you in elementary school. So cut the shit, why are you here?”

It’s not unfair, the words and accusations he levels at you. It’s not unfair and it’s not untruthful and it’s certainly not uncalled for. It still makes tears spring to your eyes, makes your hand and bottom lip shake. “This was a mistake,” you spit out quickly and hastily make your retreat, wiping at your cheekbones with the heels of your hands. Jeff is quick to swear and utter your name, but you don’t stop.

He curses as he slams the door shut behind you. Although a very large part of him wants to rip the door open and chase after you, he doesn’t think “NHL forward chases girl in apartment building” is the kind of headline he wants his name attached to. He also knows you’re not in the proper state of mind for any confrontation or conversation for that matter. You’re so frustratingly deep inside your own head, you can’t see the forest for the trees.

It’s true, he’s never asked you for a damn thing in the entirety of your friendship, always willing to give and give and give. It’s you who had been so happy to take and take and take. His limited time, his attention, his energy, his smiles reserved specially for you, his hairbrained advice and his outstretched hand. Even in the deepest throes of his love for you, he never expected you to reciprocate or even acknowledge it. He was content to be your best friend for the rest of your lives, quietly resigned to sit at your right hand through thick and thin. For your happiness, he was ready to watch as you found love elsewhere, as you built a future with someone who wasn’t him. Because a future with you, even if he could never have you exactly the way he wanted you was more than worth it.

Until you’d taken his feelings and thrown them right back at him.

It’s near 3 am now, and he knows his best course of action is to get back into bed, try and get some sleep. After all, in the morning he’s got a two hour drive.

-

You cry the entire way home, barely managing to pull yourself together enough to cross at the border without causing some sort of international incident. It’s late when you pull into the driveway of your childhood home. Despite your best efforts to quietly slip into the house after finding the spare key tucked in its usual hiding spot, your mom is flicking on the light to the kitchen and calling your name with confusion laced alongside the exhaustion in her tone.

Collapsing into her arms you tell her everything. From the fight two years ago to the one only two hours ago. There’s not a single detail you don’t include, well except for one. Being the remarkable woman you know her to be, she manages to pull it out of you anyway with a simple question. “Are you in love with him too?”

“It’s not that simple,” you reply carefully, but the look she gives you is so knowing it makes your stomach twist.

“It could be,” she says knowingly and it’s only slightly more annoying at twenty something years old than it was when you were in high school. The look is the same and her tone is the same, and if you’re really being honest, even the boy is the same. It’s been Jeff at the forefront of your mind and on the front step of this house and in the frame of every picture on the mantel. Always Jeff holding your hand in one of his while the other held so delicately onto your heart. Always something more just barely out of reach, on the peripheral of your vision if only you would smarten up and grasp it.

“It can’t,” finally leaves your lips, voice broken in a way that only the weight of your own actions can. Your mother knows you better than almost any other person on the planet, a consequence of knowing you for every single second of your existence, and so she knows when it’s time to surrender the battle in order to win the war. She pulls you in for a tight hug, her embrace more calming and soothing than any natural ailment cure in the world before she goes back to bed, shutting the light off as she goes.

The couch isn’t the most comfortable, nothing like the faded leather sectional that Jeff had in your apartment in Raleigh. Your bedroom became an office two weeks after you left for college, and the spare room more likely than not was covered in random items that your parents hadn’t had the time to put away. The blanket you wrap yourself in is familiar, a patchwork quilt gifted to your family by your grandmother. You know if you were to look through the photos on display this very quilt would feature in multiple of the ones of you and Jeff.

It’s a comforting thought as you drift to sleep, so close to the sweet rest of unconsciousness when your phone buzzes once, then twice. Suddenly the vibration pattern indicates there’s a phone call coming through. You ignore it, turning onto your side so that your face is smushed into the back of the couch, willing whoever it is to give up. Your phone buzzes signifying the caller left a voicemail before the familiar pattern begins again. Who in the world would be calling you at 5 in the morning?

You shoot up, quilt falling to the floor as you consider it might be Jeff. There’s a large part of you that feels terrible for the way your stomach sinks as Nick’s photo lights up your screen. So he woke up and found you gone. You flick up the screen, simultaneously unlocking the phone and silencing the vibration to see several unread messages. They’re in varying degrees of panic, wondering where you are, wondering why you’d left behind your ring.

It’s late and you’re tired, so tired of being sad and lonely and unhappy that you turn your phone to do not disturb and get some sleep.

-

In hindsight Jeff should have known better than to jinx himself the way he had as your door swings open to reveal your mom. He doesn’t want to do the small talk thing, not when your car is in the driveway and he can see your coat hanging on the hook just behind the open door. “Hey, mom,” he speaks softly, mouth upturned in some sort of smile-grimace hybrid gesture. “Is she here?”

“It’s good to see you Jeff,” she says by way of greeting instead, “Why don’t you come inside?”

Your head perks up at the mention of his name, every sad curve of your body screaming with your regret. There’s barely a moment’s pause before you’re launching off the couch and into his arms. He’s not prepared for it, having spent the entirety of the drive rehearsing his apology, practicing the words he would say to convince you to let him back into your life. There aren’t words to describe how right it feels to have his arms wrapped tightly around you, to be so completely surrounded and encapsulated by all that is his large presence. If you had to try though, there’s only one word that comes close to portraying it all: home.

Jeff’s arm’s are the greatest home you’ve ever known, far beyond that of the four walls surrounding you, or the neighborhood or even the city itself. He was always your safe space, your soft spot to land, the one place you could always turn no matter the circumstances. Until he wasn’t. Until you couldn’t.

It could have been two seconds, two minutes, two hours or two years - simultaneously the longest moment and the shortest breath as you stood with him on the precipice of your childhood home. You’re not entirely sure when your mom snuck away, but she’s not lingering as you finally pull from him. “I’m sorry,” you both blurt out at the same time.

“I’m sorry I keep running.” It’s a tough admission to make, to admit that at least that much is definitively your fault. Other parts of the friendship breakdown are your burdens to carry, too - your reactions, your inappropriate laughter and hasty retreat, the two years of cut off communication at your continued behest.

But you’re not alone in your ownership here, either. Jeff all but confirms it with a quiet “I’m sorry I never told you. But look at your reaction and tell me I didn’t have a good reason to keep it to myself.”

And again and again the blame shifts back to you, because you were callous and cold in your recoil, because you were the unreasonable one, because his crime had been only what he said - in loving you behind your back.

“I don’t want to play the blame game,” he sighs finally, the quiet, lingering hurt written across the planes of your face so clear to see, cutting him just as much as it pains you. “I just want my best friend.”

There’s more he wants, of course. If he’s really and truly honest with himself he wants your love, too. He’s got some of it, certainly, obvious in the way you look at him and the way your body so perfectly curves around his own. It’s in nights past, sleepovers and secrets and swimming pools. It’s some of you, but not all of you.

It’s not the way you look first thing in the morning, sleep heavy on your eyelids and a desire for coffee running through your veins. It’s not the little black dress picked out just for him, or your heels in his hand as he gives you a piggyback ride home, or locked limbs on the sofa while you watch a romantic comedy on netflix.

It’s not all of you, and there’s never been so clearly poignant a reminder as your fiance - boyfriend? ex? acquaintance? - Nick bursting through your front door and setting fire to any goodwill that you’d managed to build together. It’s so startling a reminder, Jeff feels it like a punch to the gut, the despair of never knowing what it’s like to have all your love swirling and turning.

“I’m gonna go.” You want to reach for him, but something about his body language screams that he would only dodge your advance and so you keep your hands to yourself, eyes darting wildly between the two men.

“Jeff-”

He says your name so sweetly, if it weren’t for the look on his face you might not even know something was wrong, and then repeats himself. “I’m gonna go. I think there’s a conversation you need to be having and it’s more important than the one we’re having.”

Jeff leaves without another word and it’s like he took a piece of you with him, as you stand in your living room without a single thing to say to the man in front of you.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Nick breaks the silence first, and your shoulders deflate at the thought of it all. How do you explain to him that you just truly don’t know what you want anymore? You’re so confused by everything, betrayed by your own past and your own feelings, you’re not sure of anything. Well, anything except the fact that you can’t marry him. He pulls the ring out of his pocket, idly twisting and turning and spinning the metal object in his grasp as the quiet surrounds you both.

He doesn’t get angry and for that you’re grateful, you’re not sure you have it in you to fight like that, not so soon after last night with Jeff. “It’s not like that-”

“Then what’s it like, because from where I’m sitting I woke up alone, with your ring and a shitty apology scribbled on a pizza delivery menu, and now you’re here with someone you said you hadn’t spoken to in years.”

And yeah, it looks bad because it is bad, but it’s not bad in the way he’s thinking. “I hadn’t! It’s not- I just-” You have to stop, pausing to catch your breath and let your brain catch up to your mouth. “Do you love me?” you ask, finally.

The three second pause tells you more than he ever could.

You’re not sure what Nick thought he would be walking into, or what he had hoped to accomplish by showing up here. You don’t think reciprocal apologies, a tight hug with a lingering kiss pressed to a cheek and that god awful ring back in his pocket comes even close, but that’s what you leave each other with.

-

You don’t tell Jeff about what transpired in your living room after he left, and he never asks. He has plenty of opportunity to ask, though, between your daily texts and calls that come in every so often. It’s impossible to fall back into the friendship you’d so carefully curated all those years ago, too much baggage and dead weight in the way of it all, but it’s a start.

For Jeff, it’s just nice to hear about what’s going on in your life first hand, rather than to hear it from one of his sisters. He likes that he can call you after a bad game, hear your voice tell him things will be okay, that all hope isn’t lost just because he’s in a scoring rut. When they play in Toronto, he leaves you a couple tickets and pretends his heart doesn’t constrict at the sight of you in a jersey bearing his last name.

It’s nice, to have your best friend back in your life, to be able to turn to Jeff with your petty work drama or rant to him about the latest book you read after being recommended it on tik tok. You realize just how much you took for granted sharing an apartment with him, where he had been just down the hall when you needed him - whether it be a bad day, giant spider, wobbly bookcase, or any other number of things. The distance is only two hours, but fuck it feels like he’s on another continent.

It’s why you jump at the chance to head down to Buffalo for a long weekend, bags packed and mind open to all the possibilities that lay before you. You’ve had a few more conversations - with your mom, with your brother, with your best friend, with one of Jeff’s sisters - and you think you have a clearer picture of what you want. At the end of it all, what you want is Jeff, in whatever capacity you can have him in. The years without him were dark and cold, reminiscent of a harsh Canadian winter, but having him back in your life is like the first inkling of spring - green buds on trees and the sparkling gleam of melting snow. Jeff is the first breath of warming air, the bright sun rising and shining light on the world.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough to fill in that absence.

The reunion in Jeff’s apartment parking garage is sweet, a picturesque romantic comedy moment wherein you abandon your bags in favor of jumping into his outstretched arms. His grin is contagious, the way it splits his face wide open bringing a sense of pure elation to your system. There’s no excuse for the way you squeeze yourself around him, but you whisper “I missed you,” in his ear all the same.

He’s every bit the gentleman his mama raised, carting your heavy duffle bag with the practiced ease of a man who is constantly travelling without you having to ask. His hand briefly brushes your own as you walk side by side into his building, and as someone who has a lot of practice reading his emotions, you spot conflict and hesitance out of the corner of your eye. Taking matters into your own hands - literally - you link your hands together and don’t bother hiding your own growing smile.

You’re tired the first night you’re there, a cocktail of a disastrous week at work and the long two hour drive, and so dinner is Vietnamese, eaten on the same couch he’s had since his first year in the NHL, the very couch you had sat on the night things went to hell, the same couch you had napped on more times than you could count. For a moment it’s like you never left, like you’re sitting back in that apartment in Carolina. There’s a game on that neither of you pay attention to, and you’re definitely not sitting as close as you maybe once would have, but you could almost close your eyes and pretend.

You fall asleep with your feet in Jeff’s lap watching a movie that you couldn’t name a single actor or plot point in even if there was a gun to your head, and wake up tucked into the guest room without any recollection of even waking up. It’s the sun filtering in through the gap in the curtains, something you would have surely fixed had you not been beyond exhausted last night, and once you get up to fix it, you decide there’s no use in trying to sleep in further.

Jeff’s drinking a cup of coffee on the couch, the highlights playing with the volume down low, but his focus is more on his phone. He barely notices you sneak up on him until you’re practically on top of him, but he breaks out into a grin when he does. You swipe the mug from his hands, taking a sip and cringing at the ultra sweet taste. It’s comforting in a way even through the shock to your system, the knowledge that as much as things had changed in the past few years, he still had no restraint when it came to adding sugar and cream to his morning cup.

“So, you wanna see all the great things Buffalo has to offer?” Jeff asks with a grin while loading the dishwasher, waving off your attempts to help since he was the one who cooked, too.

You shrug nonchalantly, but you can’t stop the intrusive thought that pops in your head, the one that states you’d probably go anywhere he asked you to.

It turns out that seeing Buffalo is really just code for a trip to the zoo in the morning and early afternoon, bleeding into a quick trip to the falls. You’re a little distracted by the presence that is Jeff, coupled with the developing feelings you’ve been tripping over lately, and so you’re not as present as you’d like to be - taking a second too long to laugh at his jokes, flinching when your arms brush. You’re as quick witted as ever, though, managing to slip in a quip or two about how Niagara is better from the Canadian side alongside reminiscing about the time you’d both skipped school to take the bus to the zoo.

Jeff is nothing but kind and careful and sweet, so respectful and so cognizant of the invisible lines you’ve both drawn around you. He doesn’t take a single thing about you or your friendship for granted, and while it’s endearing, it’s also frustrating as hell that he doesn’t feel like he can just step into your space without a warning.

Dinner is a bit more of an intentional feat, meeting a few of his teammates and their girls downtown at a restaurant that has you critically picking at the rip in your jeans, but Jeff’s arm around you is grounding enough that you forget all about it before you’ve even received the drinks you ordered. His teammates are funnier than you’d previously given them credit for, and it’s another stark reminder of the way things used to be. Back in Carolina, it was more than given that you would accompany Jeff to nights out with the boys - regardless if their respective wives and girlfriends were included in the invite themselves or not.

It’s not an unfair sentiment to state that you probably had a drink or two more than you should have in polite company, but Jeff doesn’t mind. The just north of tipsy version of you is one of Jeff’s favorites - the weight of the world not so heavily on your shoulders, a near perma-grin on your face, your filter all but non existent.

Your voice is a touch too loud as you shout out goodbye to the boys and their better halves and let Jeff tuck you into the passenger seat of his car. Before he’s even moved around to his side, you’ve got your phone hooked up and are scrolling through spotify. It doesn’t even bother him that you don’t let a single song play in its entirety, skipping some four seconds in, some two minutes. All the while you’re chatting away about everything and nothing.

It’s not until you’re back in his apartment, face freshly washed and teeth brushed in your pajamas, that you let something a little more serious slip out of your mouth. Sliding over to him, it’s like you can’t pull yourself away from his energy, moving across the hardwood floor almost as if you were floating. “I missed you,” is what you speak into his chest, arms tightly wound around him.

He pulls back slightly to look you in your eyes, and for a moment you wonder if this is it. If this is the moment that your friendship has been building up to your entire lives. If this is where every hurt and every doubt and every anxiety is revealed to have been worth it, just a momentary pause on an important journey. But he just smiles in a way that makes you feel kind of sad and you don’t know why, before he’s kissing your forehead and bidding you goodnight.

-

Jeff’s gone for morning skate when you wake up, but there’s a still warm cinnamon bun from a local bakery alongside a note on the kitchen island. You relax all morning, making use of Jeff’s couch and hulu account. Few words are exchanged when he finally makes his way home, besides a murmured thank you as the two of you enjoy the lunch you cooked. His game day routine is pretty much exactly as you remember as he goes to take a quick nap after you’ve eaten.

You almost choke on your own spit when Jeff exits his bedroom again later, all dressed up in his game day best. The suit's new, you think, not one you remember from Carolina, and it fits him in all the right places. It’s the gentle way he startles, eyebrows rising as he offers you his water bottle that has your stomach flipping even harder. Shaking him off with a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk into the kitchen to give yourself some space, but Jeff’s never been very good at picking up on those non-verbal cues and so he follows you, crowding your space even further.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asks. When you nod, he smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling the way you’ve always admired. “I’ll leave you some cash for the cab, and then we can drive home together, okay?”

And it’s nothing special, no grand declaration of love, not like the ones before now. It’s no earth shattering revelation, no larger than life spectacle, no fireworks, no alternative indie soundtrack playing in the background. It’s just you. And it’s just Jeff. And it’s just everything he is.

Your best friend, your confidant, your shelter and your safe space to land.

Always so respectful of your boundaries, even as you threw every negative, hurtful word you could think of at him, even as you turned into nothing more than former friends turned strangers. And he’s just never asked for more, never demanded a thing from you, never expected more than you were willing to give. All you see is how much he cares for you, all that he used to do for you and all that he’s more than willing to do now.

You see just how good he is. To you, for you.

And God, how could you ever have been so fucking stupid? So completely, fucking blind?

It all flows through you, every individual atom of your body lighting up and coming alive with your revelation. You love him. More than someone loves their childhood best friend, more than you’ve ever loved a man before. It’s Jeff for you, and it always has been. You were foolish to ever think otherwise.

Jeff’s got no idea what’s going on in that brain of yours, though he often wishes he could read your mind. You look like you’re going through the seven stages of grief all on your own over there, and he wants to reach out and smooth the crease between your brows, but he keeps his hands to himself. If he’s honest, it’s getting harder and harder to do that. To have you so close but not in the way he wants you would be torture to anyone else.

Not to Jeff, though. Jeff just loves you and is appreciative of every piece of you that you’re willing to give him, offering his heart up in return.

His heart stumbles as you turn to face him and cross the space between you in three quick and easy strides. Jeff watches you lose your nerve the closer you get, until you’ve stopped in front of him to throw your arms around him, speaking only the most superficial of your thoughts for now. “Good luck tonight, Jeff.”

The view from the box is a good one, and the girls and families are more than welcoming, even the ones you didn’t meet last night. The large #53 jersey you wear feels a little stiff, and so you find yourself pulling at the collar intermittently all night. It feels like there are eyes on you the whole time, even though you know that’s all but impossible in the privacy of the box.

The game itself is a good one too, which is a blessing in and of itself in the midst of trying times for the team, as Jeff manages to pick up a couple points, including a short handed goal in the second. The entire time you’re flipping between worrying about your feelings and imagining every way things could go wrong, so deep in thought you almost miss the goal.

You’re not sure if you really belong here now, having followed the others down to the locker room hallway. It’s got you picking at the jersey again, wondering if you should take it off or leave it on, if you should stay put or start running. You’re torn almost directly down the middle, with half of you wanting to kiss the life out of your best friend, and the other half wanting to keep this secret buried even harder and longer than it already had.

In the end, your body chooses for you, as you find yourself running into Jeff’s arms the second he’s cleared the locker room. You don’t even take the time to admire his suit for the second time. He’s a giggly albeit confused mess as he catches you, but you don’t even give him time to think as you grab his face in your hands and press your lips to his. It’s a bit of a mess then, as he stumbles forward while whistling and catcalls are thrown around the hallway.

“It’s you, Jeff,” you state after you’ve pulled away to catch your breath, sounding every bit the cheesy romantic love story your life has become, “It’s always been you.”

The grin on his face is worth every bit of pain of the past two years, and his kiss is, too.

+1

It’s a two hour drive from Markham to Buffalo.

But that doesn’t stop your parents and brother from joining Jeff’s family in their trip down to the house you now share with Jeff for American Thanksgiving. It hadn’t worked out for everyone to come down prior to now, and Jeff hadn’t been able to come up for Canadian Thanksgiving last month, and so it’s the first real holiday you’re hosting both families for after agreeing to move in this past summer.

You’re a verifiable mess about the whole thing, starting with a mishap thawing the turkey wherein it wasn’t ready to be tossed in the oven this morning, leaving you to try and make up for lost time at a higher temperature. Earlier, you’d sent Jeff out to grab a pumpkin pie, only for him to return with apple because there ‘wasn’t a single pumpkin pie in all of Buffalo’, which resulted in you frantically trying to bake one with your very limited time.

Jeff, bless him, tries his best to help you in your chaos, but only succeeds in getting himself kicked out of the kitchen - literally as you push his larger body out of the room, while reassuring that you love him, really, but he needs to get the hell out of your way.

It doesn’t really get better, especially as you hear the distinct sound of your mom’s laughter while you’re midway through washing your hair in the shower after finally being persuaded by Jeff to do so. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “I can handle things for a few minutes,” he said. In your panic to finish showering quickly, you nearly blind yourself rinsing your hair, and slip a little as you rush out of the shower.

Everything’s fine, though, when you exit your shared bedroom, fully dressed with hair so wet you’re dripping on the hardwood. Your mom is still laughing, and your dad is smiling, and Jeff’s in the center of it all, regaling your brother with a story from the road. You only slink back to the bedroom to continue getting ready when your mom gives you a pointed look.

Jeff’s family arrives soon after, your home overrun with the energy of his five siblings, but you really and truly wouldn’t have it any other way, especially as Jeff’s hand never leaves your waist. You’re all piled in the living room, laughing and smiling and catching up with one another. It’s a great time, really, even through the chirping and the teasing about you and Jeff ‘finally getting your shit together.’

That is, until the smoke detector goes off and you gasp, “the turkey!”

As it turns out, bumping up the temperature of the oven wasn’t your best and brightest moment. Both of your moms follow you to the kitchen, your mom quickly rushing to the oven to see if anything is salvageable while Jeff’s mom comfortingly wraps an arm around your shoulders, her hand running up and down your shoulder.

It’s stupid, really, the way tears begin to burn at your waterline, but all you had wanted was a nice, perfect Thanksgiving. Maybe that was an unrealistic goal, an unattainable feat, but it’s what you wanted all the same. And it’s definitely silly, but you can’t help but feel the failed meal is somehow a reflection of your relationship, or worse yet, a prediction of your future with Jeff.

After all, if you couldn’t cook a simple turkey dinner, what hope was there for you for the rest of it?

Jeff’s more patient than you, kinder and sweeter too, and yet above all else he’s also more resourceful. A few quick phone calls reveal there’s not a lot of options for delivery on Thanksgiving, and so he settles on pizza before finding you standing in the same spot in the kitchen. Both your moms have settled into a routine of cleaning up your mess, but you’re just kind of standing there looking like someone kicked your puppy.

“Hey,” he says quietly, pulling you into his arms. You go complacently, beyond your desire to be wrapped up in him, you don’t have any energy to do anything but follow his lead. “I ordered food.”

It’s probably meant to be reassuring, but it makes you feel worse, more like a failure than you already do. And so you slump further into his arms, with a muffled ‘I’m sorry’ pressed to his chest. His hand runs through your hair for a moment before cupping your face to make your face tilt up towards his own.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, love,” he tells you earnestly, and truthfully you believe he means every word he’s speaking, but you can’t shake the feeling of failure that has gripped your insides.

“I just wanted things to be perfect,” you whisper, avoiding eye contact.

He just smiles. “They are perfect, the important part is we’re all together. So what the turkey didn’t work out, I know you all had more than your fair share last month. And your pumpkin pies look really good.” His words make you smile in return, and his grin turns triumphant. “There’s that smile I love so much.”

And so maybe Thanksgiving isn’t the grand dinner you’d envisioned. There’s no turkey, and the stuffing and mashed potatoes look out of place next to the several large pizza boxes on the counter. But Jeff’s in your life, and even better yet you’ve let him into your heart, something he has not and will never take for granted. Both of your families are all here together, and neither of your moms are subtle about the way they grin at you and let their eyes flicker to your empty left hand.

It may be a two hour drive from Markham to Buffalo, but there’s not even two inches of space between Jeff and where you’ve fallen asleep against his shoulder while the last of the Thanksgiving football games play on TV.

[holy-puckslibrary]

𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚�� 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭

here's a list of the uploads for this year's fic-mas event, as well as a link to the list of additional ficmas uploads available on patreon.

hope you enjoy, and happy holidays!

˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

again, this is a list of ficmas uploads that are available now (or soon-to-be, depending on when you see this post) on tumblr.

if you'd to pursue the content available on patreon (and will remain there exclusively for the time being), please refer to 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓.

please note the upload date listed for each.

˗ˏˋ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 ˎˊ˗ 

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — nathan mackinnon x claus!reader

𝐰𝐜 — 2k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — when she took the reins as the world's chief claus, her father forgot to disclose one very important, pressing hidden clause in the job contract... 

available DECEMBER 1, 2023

read it ˗ˏˋ HERE ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — best friend!jack hughes x reader

𝐰𝐜 — 2.3k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — in order to avoid the annual interrogation into his love life, jack hughes enlists his longtime friend to be his totally platonic plus-one for the holidays.

available DECEMBER 6, 2023

read it ˗ˏˋ HERE ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — teacher!jeff skinner x teacher!reader

𝐰𝐜 — 2.4k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — their students decide to play matchmaker before a school dance; will their scheming pay off?

available DECEMBER 13, 2023

read it ˗ˏˋ HERE ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐅 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 —grumpy!erik johnson x sunshine!nanny!reader

𝐰𝐜 — 1.1k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — in erik's absence, his nanny takes over staging the family's elf on the shelf in order to keep the magic alive for his children. according to his daughter, erik's return is as disappointing as his staging.

available DECEMBER 20, 2023

read it ˗ˏˋ HERE ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — silverfox!DBF!sidney crosby x reader

𝐰𝐜 — 4.2k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — it may not the right plant, but it's close enough to justify upholding the festive tradition.

available DECEMBER 25, 2023

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2023 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

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⬸ back to the catalog

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[honeyeyesworld]

Let’s do that hockey|| Jack Quinn

(None of the pictures are mine, I found them on Pinterest credits to the original owners)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Yourusername

Liked by jeffskinner, buffalosabers, and others

Yourusername: ✨I am a photographer and I took these pictures ✨

Good luck tonight boys!! Score goals and stuff. As they say in hockey, let’s do that hockey 🤪

Also should I be worried about Owen taking my boyfriend 🤨

Load to view comments

User1: LMAO NOT THE PICTURE OF OWEN AND PEYTON 💀

jeffskinner: Thank you for capturing all of my good sides 🤝

User2: The best photographer in the nhl 🤩

peytonkrebs: Y/N??

Yourusername: Peyton??

peytonkrebs: what did I do to deserve that picture 😭

User3: idk if I want to be Owen or Jack 😏

jackquinn19: I would never leave you for Owen baby

owenpower_: that’s not you said last night 😏

jackquinn19: shhh 🤫

Yourusername: ???

User5: thank you for blessing us with these pictures 😫

Yourusername

Liked by jackquinn19, dylan.cozens, and more

Yourusername: MY BOYFRIEND SCORED!! 🥳🥳

Good job on the win boys 👏👏 beyond proud of how you guys played today, and congrats to the love of my life for scoring a goal 🥰🥰

Load to view comments

jackquinn19: All thanks to you angel I love you so much ❤️

User7: y’all I was at the game tonight and Jack pointed at her after he scored it was so cute 😭

owenpower_: OUR boyfriend scored thank you very much

jackquinn19: all for you Owen 😘

Yourusername: 🤨🤨🤨

buffalosabers: Thanks to our good luck charm 😉

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( @lvkehvghes )

[ilyasorokinn]

(day 13) a cliche christmas story , jeff skinner

note, this fic is part of my 14 days of christmas. check out this masterlist if you're interested. none of these fics in this series are connected, they are all standalone. another note, this fic really doesn't have anything to do with christmas. it just gave me a reason to write a sweet fic for jeff skinner. pair, jeff skinner x reader summary, y/n gets dumped right before christmas, so to drown her sorrows she goes to a bar where she meets jeff. warnings, alcohol consumption (all legal) word count, 2013 words

(gif not mine)

The bar was packed, but you had never felt so lonely. You stared at the glass in front of you as you tried to hold back tears, "He's a jerk." Your best friend Marley told you.

"I know." You nodded.

"Do your parents know?"

"Nope." You shook your head, "It's been almost a month and I still haven't told them."

"Well, drinks are on me tonight." She smiled.

"You don't have to do that." You shook your head.

"It's on the house, and in return, you let me spend time with my favorite niece."

"Stop referring to my cat as your niece." You sighed.

"Why? I'm her aunt?"

"Marley..." You sighed, shaking your head with a smile, "Come over whenever you want. Mango misses you."

"See? Just admit it, Mango is my niece."

You shook your head, "Whatever. Think whatever you want. And get back to work while your at it. There's a guy down there to get your attention." You noded to the other end of the bar.

"She's my niece." She insisted, before making her way down to the other end of the bar. You went back to staring at your drink before Marley placed another drink in front of you.

"I mean, I know you said you would cover my drinks, but I thought I would at least get to order my own drinks." You joked.

"I know, this one isn't from me. This one's from the guy down there." Marley told you, pointing down to the guy you had just pointed out to her.

"What? Why?" You asked.

"Said he didn't like seeing a pretty girl looking so sad." Marley smiled.

You nodded, looking at the new drink placed in front of you, "Tell him I said thank you."

"Well, you can tell him yourself cause he's making his way over here," Marley announced.

"What?" Your head popped upright as the guy walked over and next to you, "Hi."

"Hi." He smiled, "I'm Jeff." He held out his hands.

"Y/N." You smiled, shaking his hand. Marley stood there awkwardly as you and Jeff jumped into a conversation, so before things got deeper, she decided to interrupt.

"You know what? There are other customers who look like they need some drinks. Give me a holler if you need anything else." Marley told you before practically running away.

"So, tell me about yourself, Jeff." You leaned your head in your hands as you took another sip of your drink.

"Well, my name is Jeff Skinner, I'm originally from Canada..."

"Canada? Your far away from home, Dorthy." You joked, bringing a smile to his face.

"Yeah, I play hockey." He answered, looking down at his hands, almost nervously.

"Hockey? Like professionally?"

"Yeah, professionally." He nodded.

"That's so cool. Like for the Sabres?" You asked.

"You a hockey fan?" He asked.

"Yeah, originally from Philly, and hockey is sort of big." You explained.

"The Flyers." He nodded, "So, what's got you looking so sad and upset? I mean, there's Christmas music playing." He pointed out.

You laughed, "I uh, got dumped a few weeks ago, and he was supposed to come home with me for the holidays, but that's not happening anymore."

Jeff nodded, "He's an idiot."

"So I've been told." You nodded.

Before you knew it, an hour had passed, "Well, from sitting here with you for the past hour, I think you're a great girl," Jeff told you.

"Has it already been an hour?" You checked your phone and saw that indeed an hour had gone, "Wow, didn't realize that much time had gone by." You chuckled.

"If it's okay, and not too forward, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to maybe get some coffee or something?" He offered.

"Oh..." You started.

"Oh." He quickly got the message, "Too soon."

"Yeah." You nodded.

"How about this, I have a ticket for a game in a few weeks, it's yours if you want to go. I can even get your friend a ticket too."

"Really? You'd do that?" You asked.

"I mean, yeah." He nodded, "I think you're a pretty amazing girl, and I think it's a shame that you're here alone."

"Thank you, Jeff. I'd really like to go to your hockey game." You smiled.

"And it's just your luck. We're playing against the Flyers." He chuckled.

"I hope you're not expecting me to cheer for you." You laughed.

"I didn't expect anything less." You grabbed a napkin and quickly wrote down your number.

"I guess I'll be seeing you again in a few weeks." You smiled, handing him the napkin.

"I guess so." He nodded.

-

Even though the game was a few weeks away, you and Jeff talked practically every day. He would tell you about his day and you would talk about yours. It was very mundane, but it felt very... comfortable.

On Thursday, you and Marley were sitting in the front row at Jeff's game. Marley suggested you bring a sign, but you quickly turned it down, "What? It's a good idea." She told you, to which you told her "no"

You took a sip of your beer as the guys skated out. You watched amazed as your team skated out onto the ice. Jeff made sure you got a seat behind the Flyers bench, which you knew was intentional, and you made a mental note to thank him profusely.

You enjoyed the game. Marley wasn't a big hockey fan, so you had to explain all the rules to her, but you enjoyed your time and even got a picture of the back of the Flyer's benches heads.

After the game, it felt awkward to meet him down by the locker room, so he promised he would come over to your apartment and you would just chill out together.

You dropped Marley off at home, and before she even stepped out of the car, she made you promise that you would tell her everything and all the details.

You drove home and mentally prepared yourself for what was going to happen, "It's gonna be fine. It's not like you've never talked before." You hyped yourself up. Mango walked around your feet, confused as to why you were freaking out so much.

You picked her up and looked at her in the eyes, "I need to calm down, don't I?" She let out a meow as if she was agreeing with you, "I'm gonna take a deep breath." You told her, then proceeded to take a deep breath.

Right as you breathed out, a buzzing sounded throughout your apartment. You let out a panicked breath then walked over, and let him in. A few minutes later there was a knock on your door, and you took another deep breath.

"This is it, Mango." You whispered, picking her up and opening the door, "Hi." You smiled.

"Hi." He smiled, then his eyes went down to Mango, "Who's this?" He ran a hand over Mango's head.

"This is Mango. Don't know how old she is, but she's been with me since I moved to Buffalo." You explained, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before setting her down and letting her investigate Jeff.

Once she was done with her investigation and she realized he was in the clear, she walked back into your apartment, "So, you wanna come in?" You stepped out of the way, and let him walk in.

He immediately started looking around and, much like Mango, started investigating everything little thing. He looked around at all your photos, all your little trinkets, and all the memorabilia you had accumulated.

"Can I get you something to drink? Beer? Water? Soda? I have mango juice." You offered.

He chuckled, "I'm okay." He shook his head, "It feels very... homey." He stated.

"Yeah, just a few odds and ins I've collected over the years." You nodded, putting a kettle on for tea.

"My apartment does not feel homey. Everything came fully furnished when I moved in." He explained.

"Well, I'm sure everything in your apartment is very nice." You offered a smile and a shrug.

"It's is nice." He nodded, looking around at all the pictures and photos on your fridge.

"Well, thank you for the tickets. I had a really good time, although I'm sorry you guys lost."

"Eh, it's cool. I'm glad you had fun." He smiled.

You hummed and waited for your kettle. You leaned against your island, Jeff following in your footsteps and leaning against the island.

"So, have you always played in Buffalo?" You asked.

"Uh, no. I started in Carolina." He answered.

"Fun." You nodded, "Do you wanna, like, watch a movie or something?" You asked.

"Sure." He nodded.

"All right, you can head to the living room and I'll meet you there." You told him, waiting for your water.

Somewhere in between the movie, you and Jeff fell asleep on each other. Well, your head was on his shoulder and he fell asleep on your head.

The next morning, Marley, who had keys to your apartment and vice-versa, let herself into your apartment and was greeted with quite the sight. You and Jeff asleep on each other.

She chuckled and snapped a photo before shaking you awake, "Wake up, babe." She whispered.

You jolted awake. When you picked your head up, Jeff picked up his too, "Huh?" You asked.

"What time is it?" Jeff asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"It's 9 in the morning," Marley answered with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, stop smirking." You glared.

"I'm gonna go wait in the kitchen." She didn't stop smirking as she made her way into the kitchen.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep." Jeff slipped his shoes and jacket on.

"It's fine. We both did." You smiled.

"I should get going. I have an errand I gotta run." He smiled back.

"It's fine. We'll talk later." You reassured.

"Yeah." He nodded and opened your front door. He stopped himself and turned around. He quickly pressed a kiss to your cheek and left. You smiled to yourself, placing your hand on the same cheek he had kissed.

You walked into the kitchen, almost in a daze, "So...?" Marley began, "What's the deal with you and Jeff?"

"There is no deal. We're just friends." You shrugged, warming up water.

"That seemed a little more like friends. Your blushing and all he did was kiss your cheek." Marley pointed out.

"Do you think it's too soon? To move on?" You asked nervously.

"No, I don't. There's no timeline on when you have to move on. You move on whenever you want to." Marley told you.

"Okay." You nodded, thinking about it, "I think I'm ready." You nodded. Marley flashed you an encouraging smile.

-

You found yourself in the same place you had when everything started. Staring at a glass of alcohol, only this time, you didn't feel the urge to cry.

"Why're you here alone?" Marley asked.

"Just waiting." You answered, bringing your head up and off your hands. The door opened, and you felt the breeze of the cold Buffalo air hit your arms.

You heard the barstool next to you being pulled out and felt the presence sit down, "What can I get you, sir?" Marley asked, flashing the man a smile.

"Let's get the lady a drink," Jeff smirked.

"Alrighty." Marley nodded and whipped up a drink for you.

"Was wondering when you'd make it." You smiled, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Ran into a bit traffic." He answered.

"Here you are." Marley placed the drink in front of you, before walking off to serve someone else.

"Did you think we'd get here? Last year we were just getting to know each other, and now, you're coming home with me for Christmas."

"I did." Jeff nodded, "Somewhere in my head, I knew we would get here."

"Well, I'm glad you bought me a drink that night. If you hadn't, we probably wouldn't be here today." You smiled.

"Thank God I did." Jeff smiled back.

-

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taylor's 14 days of christmas masterlist!

[sycamoretrees]

hi hello who would like to talk about how the Habs winning the Cup would be the funniest possible conclusion to the jeff skinner/eric staal reunion year

like u r jeff skinner, you've adjusted to your life as a middling player for a mediocre-to-low team, you've adjusted your expectations from your high-flying early years (like, call it settling, fine) and you're pretty happy

then your estranged older ex-boyfriend, with whom you had a complicated and bitter breakup, gets traded to your team (which you find out one day in your YARD from your DAD and you think it's a JOKE)

so now NOT ONLY is the press all-in on shipping you writing cheery stories about the two of you being reunited and suddenly there's all this increased attention on you,

and NOT ONLY does ur ex enjoy more and more ice time while you can't buy a goal and ur coach hates you and u are a healthy scratch very publicly multiple times,

and NOT ONLY does he flirt with the new younger model rookie right in front of your salad while your team has a HISTORICALLY bad season,

but the ONLY THING YOU HAD ON HIM - that for all his effort over the intervening years and for all your apparent lack thereof, you have the same number of Cups to show for it! - the ONE THING YOU HAD gets taken away while you watch on TV at home on ur couch

e x q u i s i t e

(also if u wish to know how i would end this fic pls refer to this message i sent in April of this year:

am i a soothsayer? time will tell)

[hockeylvr59]

What Ifs, Part 3 || Jeff Skinner

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: I’ve been trying to write this part for at least six months so it feels good to finally get it finished. Hope you’re ready for some fluffy Christmas content in April, and a boatload of sexual tension and some idiocy. Set Fri/Sat Dec. 13th/14th. See next post & 010 tag for Jeff’s apartment inspiration and the Christmas tree inspiration. 

For a quick recap: You met Jeff at a spillway in northern PA and met up with him at a beach in Erie a few days later. After that daily conversation ensued and he visited you to go to a college football game before you surprised him at a Pens/Sabres game he didn’t think you were coming to. He kissed you postgame and murmured that he would very much like to fuck you after you teased him as he headed to the team bus. 

Warnings: sexual tension ||  Word Count: 5,472

~~~~~~

Light snowflakes were falling, landing on your car’s windshield and then quickly melting. Christmas music played softly over the radio, while you followed your phone’s navigation through the streets of Buffalo, New York. There was just something about Christmastime that caused little bubbles of joy and excitement to course through your entire body. Those bubbles grew two sizes larger when you thought about the week ahead. 

It had been a month and a half since you’d seen Jeff in the bowels of PPG Paints Arena, had felt his arms wrapped around you, felt the press of his lips against yours. Since then, you hadn’t been able to get those brief moments out of your head. Though you talked with Jeff basically every day, and your conversations had become more intimate, you hadn’t talked about the fact that he’d kissed you and you certainly hadn’t talked about his declaration that he would indeed like to fuck you. Finally though, after a month and a half, you were less than 12 hours away from seeing him face-to-face once more. 

Pulling into his apartment’s parking garage, you gathered the trash you’d accumulated during the six-hour drive before climbing out of the car, stretching out your body. You’d finished your last final this morning and per Jeff’s request had immediately packed up before hitting the road. You’d be asleep when he got in from tonight’s road game, but when you woke he’d be there and that was more than enough motivation to not delay your trip until tomorrow. 

Throwing your trash into your purse to take inside, you gathered the rest of your bags and locked your car. Stepping into the apartment complex’s lobby, you stopped at the doorman/security officer’s desk. Two minutes later, you had a key in hand along with a note and were directed to press the button for the fifteenth floor in the elevator. Stepping off the elevator, you searched for the right apartment, stopping in front of it with a sigh. Setting your bag down, you fumbled with the key for a moment but as soon as the door swung open you couldn’t help but smile. Though it was clearly a bachelor’s apartment, the atmosphere was immediately calming, something you very much needed after a long day. 

Setting your bags down, you slipped your shoes off and made your way into the kitchen where you leaned yourself against the counter to read Jeff’s note. His scratchy script urged you to make yourself at home, rambled about how excited he was to see you, insisted that you use the money he’d left on the counter to order dinner, and left channel information for the television so that you could watch the game. Just above the scrawled Jeff, his final sentence brought a warm flush to your cheeks. 

The guest bedroom is all yours if you want...but I’d love nothing more than to come home to you in my bed. 

You’d shared a bed before, but that was prior to the not so innocent encounter you’d had in Pittsburgh. Still, something pushed you to carry your things down the hall, past what you assumed was the guest room and into what was clearly the master suite. Leaving them on the bed to deal with later, you returned to the main living space of the apartment, taking a few minutes just to wander around. Jeff had pictures of his family on shelves by the tv which was hung on the wall above a gas fireplace. Looking out the window, you could see the arena just a few blocks away and couldn’t help but laugh knowing Jeff hated long commutes. Turning back to the apartment’s interior, you noted that his large sofa looked warm and comfortable, and he certainly had a chef’s kitchen even if he was no chef. As promised, there were a pair of twenty-dollar bills tucked under a fruit bowl on the island and you decided maybe it was time for dinner since it was nearly seven o’clock. 

After searching for local restaurants you decided that game food sounded good and so you placed an order for chicken strips, mozzarella sticks, pretzel sticks, and deep-fried cheesecake for dessert.  Since Jeff had threatened you not to even think about paying for the food yourself you complied and noted that you were paying with cash. With food on its way, you moved to try and figure out Jeff’s tv, settling it onto the channel for the game, pregame programming already playing. 

It wasn’t long before Jeff’s face came across the screen and immediately your heart fluttered. It was silly because you watched Jeff’s games all the time (at least when they didn’t conflict with the Penguins), but for some reason watching it while sitting in Jeff’s apartment felt different. Just before puck drop, you got the alert that your food was downstairs so after slipping on some shoes, you grabbed the cash and key and made your way down to get it. 

With dinner spread out across the coffee table, you got yourself a glass of water and settled in on Jeff’s couch. About midway through the first period, he snuck the puck through the goalie’s legs and into the back of the net causing you to let out a cheer. Just before the end of the second, he buried another puck past the goalie to give the Sabres a two-goal lead. Watching Jeff play so well made a content smile settle onto your face as you cleaned up your leftovers and trash before snuggling under the blanket that was tossed over the back of the couch. With your eyes occasionally fluttering shut, you missed what preceded the tussle Jeff was currently in with a player on the opposing team. Immediately anxiety filled your body, but soon you watched as Jeff was led to the penalty box appearing no worse for wear as he continued to chatter away. 

By the time the game ended, you had already started to fall asleep on the couch, so you decided it was time to head to bed, tidying up before locking the front door and retreating to Jeff’s bedroom. There you changed into pajamas before setting your suitcase on a chair in the corner. Brushing your teeth and washing your face was all you needed to do in the bathroom and after plugging your phone in, you flipped off the lights and tugged the covers back climbing into bed. Soon, with your body sinking into the comfortable mattress, you were out like a light. 

___

“Shh, it’s just me…go back to sleep.” You heard whispered as you stirred. You had no idea what time it was, but as the bed shifted beside you, part of you realized that Jeff had arrived home. Unconsciously, you shifted toward him and a warm set of arms draped around your waist as you settled your head against his shoulder and dozed right back off. 

When you actually awoke, the room was filled with the faintest morning light. It was only then that you processed the fact that your entire body was tangled with Jeff’s, pressed tightly against him. Your head was still on his shoulder, your bodies touching from your chests to your hips, and your legs were entwined with his. Your mind raced to figure out how to best extract yourself when you felt Jeff’s chest vibrate under you. 

“Morning.” He murmured, his voice groggy. Lifting your head, you glanced up to see that his eyes were still filled with sleep and he had a sleepy smile on his face as he gazed right back down at you. 

“Morning…” You whispered back, shifting the hand that had been curled against Jeff’s chest to run through your hair. 

“Sorry if I woke you coming in last night…” Jeff said, yawning softly. 

“I don’t think you did…” You whispered. “I don’t actually remember you climbing into bed.” 

“Then it was just your body that noticed.” Jeff teased. “Because you shifted to cuddle me immediately.” A warmth crept over your cheeks but Jeff’s smile only grew, still lazy and soft due to the early morning hour. “Was kinda nice,” Jeff explained with a small shrug. “Told you I wasn’t going to complain if you chose my bed.” He continued, his lips dropping to press gently against your forehead. 

After stretching slightly, you finally dropped your arm back to Jeff’s torso, your fingers grazing against his abdomen. A low groan slipped from his lips and he moved his hand to lace his fingers with yours. 

“As much as I wanna stay here…” He mumbled. “Want you to keep touching me.” He added under his breath. “We should probably get up before I have an even bigger problem.” This time when your eyes met his, they were a shade darker than just a minute ago and your saliva caught in your throat at what he was implying. 

“Mmmm...yeah…” You agreed, working to extract your body from his. “I um...I’m gonna use the guest bathroom real quick...do you have stuff for breakfast in your fridge?” Jeff’s expression was unreadable as he watched you climb from bed, making your way towards the hallway door. 

“I’m sure we can find something.” 

___

By the time Jeff made his way out into the kitchen, you had managed to find a package of pancake mix and some bacon and eggs in his fridge and were hard at work making breakfast. Without saying a word, Jeff moved to start some coffee before taking over the skillet with the eggs from your hands. 

“Let me help.” He chided. With the two of you working side by side, it didn’t take long to have breakfast made and once it had been served onto plates, Jeff paused, pulling you into his arms. “I haven’t had a proper hug yet.” He explained, almost whiny about it. Settling your arms around his waist, you returned his hug, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you. “So glad you’re here.” Jeff declared, kissing your head once more before pulling away.

Settled at his kitchen island you ate breakfast in comfortable silence. When you were finished, Jeff took your dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. As he did so your eyes raked over his body, dressed only in sweats and a t-shirt. He was so attractive that you had to force yourself to look away before he caught you staring. 

“So what’s the plan for today?” You murmured, not sure what exactly he had in mind since you’d let him plan pretty much everything. “Or I guess I should ask about today and the rest of this week?” You added, realizing that beyond the fact that he had one home and one away game, you had no idea what his schedule was like. 

Jeff turned to lean against the counter across from you as he responded, his smile bright and eyes twinkling. 

“I thought maybe today you could help me decorate?” He suggested. “We have the day off so I’m all yours. Then tomorrow we just have practice so I was thinking you could play tourist for a bit and then we could go out for dinner, maybe introduce you to Jack or some of the other guys.” After laying out his thoughts for weekend plans, Jeff paused for a moment to let you respond, and when you simply nodded he continued. “Monday we play at home, I already have your game ticket. Tuesday is a quick up and back to Toronto, we’re literally flying up in the morning and back after the game. I think a few of the guy’s girls are going if you have your passport on you and would be interested, but no pressure there if you want to stay here and veg for a day.” Warmth flooded through you at Jeff’s acknowledgement that this trip could be a lot and that if you needed some quiet time during it that was more than okay. At the same time though you couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed at fact that he wanted you to meet his teammates and their significant others. 

Jeff pulled his lower lip between his teeth and his fingers rubbed at his neck before he spoke once more. “And then uh...Wednesday we have our team Christmas stuff, an official organization family skate in the morning and then Jack is hosting just the team and dates to his place for the evening…” 

“Oh uh…” You breathed, having no idea that all of that was going on while you’d be here. Sensing that your brain was spinning away from you, Jeff rounded the island. 

“But uh...we can talk about that later. I don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Let’s just see how things play out okay?” He offered and when his fingers laced with yours you found yourself nodding. “Good…” Jeff breathed. “I just want you to enjoy being here.” His concern, the way his eyes spilled over you, it all made you want to shiver in the best way. 

“So...decorating?” You mused, bringing your mind back to focus on the day ahead instead of dwelling on everything else and the weight all of it held. 

“Yep...go get dressed.” Jeff prodded, lifting you off of the stool with ease and placing you on your feet. His show of strength sent a spark through you and you nodded, retreating back to the bedroom to dig through your bag for clothes. Fifteen minutes later, you had pulled on a pair of jeans, a snuggly sweater, warm socks, and had done a really light coat of makeup before sliding into your tennis shoes and grabbing your coat. 

“Ready?” Jeff inquired from his spot on the couch in the living room. 

“Yep.” You replied, taking in Jeff’s similar outfit and the way it clung to his form. Sliding your phone into your pocket and grabbing your wallet, you followed him down to the garage, sliding into the passenger seat of his SUV with just a little help. Once he had pulled the car out onto the downtown Buffalo streets, his hand fell to rest over yours and you looked over at him, biting your lip at how natural the warmth of his palm felt. 

With Christmas music playing over his car’s speakers, the drive was quiet and almost a bit stifling. Then Jeff murmured once more that he was really glad you were here and the way he glanced over at you told you that he meant that with everything in him. 

“I’m glad I’m here too.” You replied, heart fluttering a bit no matter how much you tried to control it. Jeff drove out of the city and into the surrounding suburbs before pulling into the parking lot of a Walmart. When he parked, you climbed out, dropping down onto the pavement before meeting him at the rear of the vehicle. 

“And here I thought you were taking me somewhere more exciting than a Walmart.” You joked softly, bumping your shoulder into his arm. Jeff’s cheeks turned a little pink as he walked beside you into the store. 

“I figured we’d get the ornaments and garland and everything first and then head to the tree farm to pick the tree.” He explained rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t really have any decorations here.” He mumbled under his breath causing you to look up at him curiously. “I’m fairly close to home, usually traveling, and haven’t really had a reason to decorate before.” He shrugged. You nodded, letting him grab a cart as you followed him into the store. In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but focus on his words though. Neither of the first two points had changed all that much so was the driving factor the third...and if so was that reason you? Though you wondered, you didn’t ask, instead just pushing it to the back of your mind once more. 

Being that it was already mid-December, the Christmas section of the store was fairly well decimated and you watched Jeff’s eyes go wide as if he didn’t expect that. Giggling to yourself, you moved over to the rack of tree lights which was mostly empty but still had a few boxes of both white and colored left. 

“What color lights do you prefer?” You asked him softly knowing that was as good a place as any to start. Jeff looked at you like he honestly had no idea so you grabbed the remaining few boxes of white lights, tossing them into the cart he was pushing. 

“I didn’t expect everything to be gone.” He whispered softly as he pushed the cart down the empty aisles. There was one container of white glass ornaments tucked onto the back of a shelf but otherwise there really wasn’t much of anything. 

“Jeff it’s mid-December.” You murmured back leaning against the cart. Sensing his distress you rested your hand over his. “Is there a Michael’s nearby?” You asked, pulling out your phone to check when he didn’t seem to know the answer. Finding one about fifteen minutes down the road, you grabbed the container of white balls since they’d go with anything, a box of ornament hooks, and you then urged Jeff to head to check out with your meager findings. 

Back at the car, you plugged the address into his GPS and squeezed his hand assuring him that Michael’s would have plenty of decorations left for him to choose from. It didn’t take long to drive to the craft store and when you led Jeff inside this time you couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face at seeing aisles upon aisles of Christmas and other decorations. Starting in the aisle full of ornaments, you asked him what he liked and what kind of aesthetic he wanted for his tree. 

For a moment he just looked back and forth like this was too many options before finally pointing to some wooden carved ornaments and how those looked kind of cool. Finally getting somewhere, you smiled and pulled a few of each design off the hooks setting them into the cart. After suggesting various colors of ornaments which received faces with varying degrees of dislike, you finally picked up a container of dark green balls and a pondering face crossed Jeff’s face. 

“Forest green with the white balls from Walmart and the wood?” You reminded him trying to get him to picture how it would all look together. 

“Do you think it would look good?” He asked and when you nodded he offered his hand out for the container to put it into the cart. Spotting a similar container that was just a little smaller with silver balls, you grabbed those as well putting them into the cart and shrugging at his questioning glance. 

“You need at least a little bit of sparkle. So just a little metallic.” You insisted. Deciding that should be sufficient ornament wise, you moved down the aisles to find something that would serve as a nice garland and fit with the aesthetic Jeff seemed to like. A few aisles over you found strings of wooden balls and you showed Jeff before adding them to the cart. Then you disappeared into the depths of the store before coming back with wide-width forest green velvet ribbon which would give the decorations just a little bit more depth. 

Jeff just watched you maneuver through the store before asking if you had everything you needed. For a moment you nodded but as you made your way to the check out, you spotted pine cones and added a container of those as well knowing that would be the perfect finishing touch. 

“Oh…we need a tree topper too.” You said, stopping out of nowhere right in front of the cart before tugging him off in the direction of the toppers before picking out a simple but pretty silver star to go on top. 

“Now are we done?” Jeff asked, though his expression was one of amusement not annoyance. Pausing for a moment to look over what was in the cart, you then nodded finally letting him go check out with all of your goodies. It was going to be a pretty tree, well once you actually picked out a tree. 

As Jeff unloaded the cart, you noticed that he had picked up a few small wreaths. One was just plain and you weren’t sure what he had in mind for that but the other was simple but pretty and perfect for a door and the command hook he unloaded alongside of it suggested that he’d thought the same thing. There was also a tree stand which was probably going to be helpful, and a white faux fur tree skirt. 

It didn’t take long for Jeff to pay for all of the decorations before grabbing the bags and guiding you back out into the cold weather to the car. Shivering slightly from the wind, you tugged your coat tighter around you as you climbed into the passenger seat again, reaching for the seatbelt. 

Within just a few minutes of Jeff starting the car though, you were warm from head to toe and you realised he’d turned the seat warmer on for you. While you were still in a fairly commercial neighborhood, Jeff pulled into a Starbucks drive-thru and ordered warm beverages for the next part of your day. From there he drove even further away from the city and you watched the northern New York countryside pass by your window unsure of whether the warmth you were feeling was solely emanating from the seat and beverage or from the way Jeff made you feel. 

As you drove farther into the countryside, a light snow covered the ground and trees making everything look that little bit prettier. Seeing the tree farm up ahead you couldn’t help but bounce a little in your seat because this was something you’d never done before. Your family has always had an artificial tree so you’ve never picked out a real one before. 

Following Jeff because he clearly knew what he was doing in this regard, you moved through the rows of trees behind him, eyes wide at just how many there were. 

“Have you seen any you’ve liked?” Jeff asked, popping up behind you somehow after a few minutes.” Jumping a little you smacked his arm gently for scaring you. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for…” You murmured. “It’s your tree.” You reminded, shrugging your shoulders after sticking your hands back in your pockets because it was cold. Jeff’s chuckle filled your ears and he reached to pull one of your hands out of your pocket, tucking it into his own as he led you down the row of trees pointing out a couple that he liked. Reading his body language, you urged him that the one he really liked but wouldn’t say so was the one and after that he handed you the keys, kissing your temple and telling you to go warm up while he got the tree paid for, cut down, and loaded up. 

From the car you watched as, with the help of the lot’s employee, Jeff loaded the tree up onto the top of the SUV and got it tied down. Soon after that you were off to head back into the city Jeff asking what you wanted for lunch since it was already that time of day. 

“I can just make something when we get back.” You assured him, not minding cooking for the two of you. Jeff murmured back that he didn’t invite you here to cook for him all week and you sighed softly replying that you didn’t come up expecting to not do anything all week either and that you could handle a few meals. A moment later he nodded, deciding that this wasn’t something worth going back and forth over and he turned his attention back to the road as the city loomed in front of you once more. 

Having reached the garage of his building once more, you moved to grab as many shopping bags as you could so that you could get them inside and ready to decorate the tree which you weren’t quite sure how Jeff was going to get inside and up to the fifteen floor as you had a feeling it was too tall for the elevator. 

You realized Jeff had come to this same conclusion moments after you did when he cursed under his breath. 

“Let me get all the breakable decorations upstairs and then I can come help you with the tree?” You suggested. Jeff seemed to agree but when you came back down, he was carrying the tree with the help of the building’s doorman, brushing off your help and just asking you to go wait on his floor to open the stairway door. 

Shaking your head to yourself, you took the elevator back up not envying the poor doorman helping Jeff to carry a tree up fifteen flights of stairs. At the top, you waited for them, holding the door up when they approached and then moving to hold the apartment door open as well before moving out of the way as they leaned the tree against a wall. While Jeff talked to him, you retreated into the kitchen to try and figure out what to make for lunch, deciding to make up a quick stir fry because that wouldn’t take long after defrosting some chicken in the microwave. 

You were grabbing some things from his freezer and searching for another pan when Jeff appeared behind you making you jump again. 

“You gotta stop that.” You chastised, looking over your shoulder at him. “And I hope you are going to do something nice for your poor doorman.” You added teasing, nodding when Jeff assured you that he was getting him game tickets and a signed jersey. When he asked if he could help you shook your head telling him that he should go figure out where he wanted to put the tree and get it set up so that you could start decorating after lunch. 

“Alright, just holler if you need something.” He agreed before moving back around the island to the living room leaving you to navigate his kitchen to make up a quick lunch. By the time you had all your ingredients ready, the chicken was defrosted and you put it into the pan with just a little bit of water to start cooking, adding in the vegetables shortly after that. When everything was looking good and ready, you added in the stirfry sauce and added the rice to the small pot of water you had brought to a boil. 

Within 20 minutes you were serving lunch onto plates and calling Jeff to come eat, laughing at how he was struggling with the tree. Moving to lend him an extra set of hands quickly, you managed to help him get the tree into the base and secured so that it would stand on its own. Repeating that food is ready, you smile at how flushed his cheeks are before moving back into the kitchen teasing that now you understand why he’s never decorated before. 

Getting ice from the icemaker you didn’t hear him say that he never had anyone worth decorating for, though those words would have brought tears to your eyes if you had. 

___

After lunch you let Jeff finish up the dishes while you worked on pulling all the decorations out of their bags. With everything laid out, you turned some Christmas music on from your phone to set the mood again. 

When Jeff came in he turned on his gas fireplace and taking a strand of lights you’d already plugged in and checked from you, he started to wrap the lights amongst the branches working his way from the bottom of the tree up. It was almost seamless, the rhythm you settled into with you checking the lights and unwinding them before Jeff took them to continue wrapping around the tree until it was fully lit once plugged in. 

“It already looks pretty.” You grinned signaling to him that he’d done good work with the lights. 

Jeff just smiled that bright smile back and you reached to open one of the containers of ornaments while also grabbing the box of hooks. Again, the two of you took turns putting hooks on the ornaments and handing them to each other, making sure that each color and type was dispersed evenly around the tree. As you hung one of the wooden ornaments toward the middle of the tree you felt Jeff press up behind you, hanging a silver ball above your head. The heat of his body made you shiver and as he pulled away his hand slid along your waist as he steadied himself. You didn’t say anything for a moment before asking him to hand you one of the green balls. 

Jeff pressed against you from behind twice more while tucking pinecones up into the branches of the tree and he slid against you while passing to grab the ribbon to drape around it. Each time he did so, a jolt sparked through your body, but that little voice in the back of your mind insisted that he didn’t mean it like that. Focusing on draping the wood garland so that it was spaced opposite the ribbon, you didn’t see Jeff’s eyes rake over your body or the way they softened as you hummed along to the Christmas carols. When everything was finally on the tree you reached to hand him the star to top it off insisting that he do it since it’s his tree. 

For a moment Jeff hesitated before he reached to set the star on top before stepping back to admire the tree with you for a moment before you shifted it back toward the wall and got it plugged in, adding water into the base now that it wasn’t going to be moved anymore. The final step was adding the skirt around the base which Jeff insisted you do since you were already down there with the water. Once that was done, you smiled at how pretty it looks and hugged him from the side declaring that it looked worthy of a magazine. 

Cleaning up the packaging, you watched as Jeff moved to hang the one wreath on his door while the other was placed under the fruit bowl in the center of his island with pinecones and a small green and white ornament tucked into it. 

“Good work Mr. Skinner.” You grinned, washing your hands from the pine so that any pollen didn’t irritate your eyes. “Your apartment is ready for Christmas now.” His dimple was showing and his eyes flashed with something you didn’t understand as you peeked over at him suggesting that they watch a Christmas movie since they were done decorating. 

Jeff agreed and you settled onto the couch handing him the remote as he pulled your feet into his lap before draping the throw blanket over your legs. After checking for your approval, he settled on Elf and you couldn’t help but smile as he quoted along to the movie. 

Pausing after one movie to order dinner in and eat, you settled back in, bellies full, this time putting on the first Santa Clause. Instead of sitting like you had before, this time you sat next to him, leaning into the same space. When his thumb dropped down to brush against your inner thigh part way through the movie you felt a buzz form low in your core that didn’t stem from the bottle of wine you’d shared with dinner. 

Jeff seemed to have no idea of what he was doing nor any idea the effect it was having on you. Yawning slightly, you murmured that you were going to go use his bathroom to shower if that was okay. You weren’t really paying attention to the movie anyway and you needed a moment to breathe. You’d thought that things with Jeff were different than they had been before Pittsburgh, but he hadn’t made a move or anything so maybe you were wrong. Either way there was no way you were going to stay sane with the pressure of his thumb against that part of your body. 

Tonight, when Jeff slid into bed beside you, you were going to keep some distance. As much as your body wanted to be close to his, it was for the best because there was no way you were going to make it through a week here with him if you didn’t, even if he was your best friend.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: The Light Of Morning

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Drug Use, NSFW, SMUTT, LOTS OF WORDS 

Words: 8.6k

Summary: What is done in the dark, comes to light.

Note: I come bearing gifts! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy this! ❤️❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

“Ms. Y-L-N, this is the final print. It’s just waiting for your approval,” Tandy said, placing it in front of you on your desk.

 “Thank you. I’ll have a look. Tell Capri that I need to see the proofs from that shoot this morning.”

 “Got it.” You began flipping through the magazine you were the editor in chief of and tried to figure out if all the edits made your cut. You were picky always had been, but your pickiness always paid off. It paid off so much that you were one of the biggest names in fashion and a serious force to be reckoned with. As you flipped you listened in on the phone conference, you were part of all the while taking notes of any idea that came to mind.

Today was a hectic day. The final edits had to go out for printing tonight, on top of the new theme for next month’s magazine. Once the theme was picked, you had to come up with backup articles for all of your staff so that when the staff meeting happened, things would go smoothly. Then you had to iron out all the details for your meetings the following Monday. Fridays for everyone else symbolized the beginning of the weekend and whatever party, but for you, it was always the busiest and most hectic day of the week.

 An hour later, your conference was finished, and you’d signed off on the edits. You now had to get down to put together to oversee the inhouse fashion. As you walked out of your office, Tandy shot to her feet.

 “Get these off to printing; we’re all set. I’m going down to put together now.”

 “Got it. oh, Chris just called.”

 “Chris who?”

 “Chris Evans, your bestie,” Tandy informed.

 “Really, when?”

 “Maybe ten minutes ago.”

 “What did he want?”

 “He said he’s been calling your cell, and you’ve been ignoring him, and he doesn’t appreciate having to find you through your assistant, especially if he’s your best friend,” Tandy explained. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have time for his melodramatics.

 “Thank you, Tandy.”

 “Do you want me to call him back?”

 “No, he can wait. He needs to learn that I’m not at his beck and call,” you teased with a wink before you got on the elevator.

 You and Chris had been friends for a long time. You grew up together in Boston but never really became friends until you were both in middle school, which was right in time to see him turn into the object of every teenage girl’s affection. You’d seen Chris through plenty of awkward phases. The phase where he idolized vanilla Ice and thought he should dress like him. The phase where he thought maybe baseball was going to be his calling—it wasn’t. The phase where he got into soccer only to realize that he was skinny as hell and didn’t really like the uniforms that made him look even skinner.

 You were there through other phases too, like the phase where he liked only cheerleaders and had a thing with Beverly Espino while also having a thing with her friend Stacy Carrington. That ended badly when they both realized it. You were there during the phase of him crushing on every burnett in your sixth grade only to change his mind and like all the blondes. Needless to say, you’d seen everything Chris related, girlfriends, side pieces, flings, everything. You knew everything about him, his strengths, weaknesses, fears, and shortcomings. You also knew that all his weaknesses and shortcomings would clash with yours.

 After high school, you went to college in New York to pursue a degree in journalism and communications. Chris went off to make his mark in Hollywood. Your friendship took a backseat to both of your goals, but that wasn’t the case for long. You made sure to put in the needed effort to remain in each other’s lives. You accompanied him to countless Hollywood events, and he accompanied you to plenty of work events. Now with both of you in your thirties and at the peak of your careers, your friendship was stronger than ever.

 When you made it down to put together, you looked over all the pieces of clothing that had been sent to you for you to style as you wished for this month’s issue. The ones that hadn’t been chosen were set to be sent back or reused for next month. You spent the next hour or so making a plan for what you wanted to send back and what you planned on styling for the next issue. You got so enthralled you lost track of time. When Tandy came in to whisper to you that you were late for your interview, you panicked. You hated being late.

 It took you five minutes to get back to your office, where some interviewers were waiting for you.

 “I’m so sorry. I lost track of time making plans for next month’s issue.”

 “We understand, when you make it to the top, you’re supposed to make people wait,” a well-dressed woman with auburn hair said with a smile.

 “Ha, the top. Nonsense.”

 “Plenty would beg to differ. I’m Madeline, and this is Jeff.”

 You shook their hands and asked Tandy to bring in a bottle of your preferred flavored sparkling water; then, you sat in the seat before them. You noticed Jeff give you the once over before he licked his lips as his eyes rested on your thighs.

 “Welcome, I’m Y/N, I’ve never liked the whole Mr. Y-L-N.”

 They smiled and visibly relaxed. You didn’t know where this idea that you were a mean ass came from. You were so far from that. You did like respect and liked a good job done. Those traits made you meticulous and determined. You didn’t like your time wasted. The interview began with them asking how you got your start and whether or not you knew this was where you wanted to me. You answered the questions honestly, never giving too much information. It was a trick Chris taught you. He always said answer the question asked do not give an ounce more. If you do, you’re making it easy for them to pry for more and or twist your words. It was great advice, advice you followed.

 When the conversation went into details on how you put an issue together and how you kept it all organized, you rambled on and on. Your passion was what you did, and you luckily loved what you did. You loved sharing insight, lessons learned, and tips and tricks. You were a black woman, and for you to have made it this far was unheard of. You wanted to show other black little girls that there is no glass ceiling; they too could be right where you were or higher.

 When the interview had reached the forty-five-minute mark, you looked to the door expecting Tandy to be there to encourage them to wrap it up. She was nowhere in sight.

 “So, Y/N, there is a lot of curiosity about your personal life. You are so successful, so much of a force to be reckoned with inquiring minds need to know. Is there a Mr. Y-L-N waiting at home for you at nights with your bathwater drawn and dinner waiting?”

 You nearly laughed way too loudly. The question was ridiculous. You hadn’t had a date in months because of how busy you were, and for the fact again, you hated your time wasted. Men were either intimidated by you and didn’t approach or approached with the intent on wasting your time.

 “My success comes with late nights, early mornings, and lots of sacrifices. No Mr. anything is waiting for me at home.”

 Jess smiled and quirked his brow before he licked his lips again.

 “So the old wives' tales are true. The ones that say successful women have to sacrifice the happy home life of husbands and babies to reach where they want to be.”

 You were speechless. How did you answer that? Of course, you didn’t believe that, but that was precisely what you’d been doing. Clearing your throat, you adjusted in your seat.

 “On the contrary, I believe women are in control of their lives and futures. It is absolutely possible to have every single thing you want. I fully intend to,” you finished as Tandy stepped in. Finally, you thought.

 “All finished in here?”

 You stood and adjusted your skirt while nodding with a fake smile.

 “Yes. Thank you for coming by, Madeline, Jeff. It’s wonderful to meet you. Tandy will show you out and also give you a parting gift of my appreciation.”

 You shook their outstretched hands, Madeline’s first and then Jeff’s. When your hands touched, you felt a smooth card in your palm. Jeff smiled slyly while looking right in your eyes.

 “Hopefully, we see more of each other,” he said. You caught his meaning, and politely smiled.

 “Time will tell. Have a good weekend.”

 You watched them walk out then looked in your hand to see Jeff’s business card. On the back was a simple message. “Call me. I’d love to have dinner sometime.” You chuckled to yourself as you dropped the card in your desk, not giving him or it another thought.

 “Y/N, Chris is on the phone.”

 “Put him through, thank you.”

 You dropped in your seat and stretched your legs on top of your desk then picked up the phone. Before you spoke, he did.

 “I am not your assistant or some journalist who wants a piece of you, so they chase you down. I don’t appreciate having to--,” he spoke before you interrupted him.

 “Man, stop all that noise. My god, you actors sure are sensitive and love to talk.”

 Chris laughed on the line, which had you giggling along with him.

 “How can I help thee, Chris Evans?”

 “Shut up. You’re not funny.”

 “I’m not trying to be. You’ve been calling all day. What’s up?”

 “I’m in town.”

 You froze and smiled. “In town, like New York?”

 “Duh New York, where else would in town be?”

 “Shut up, don’t come for me.”

 “I was planning on doing just that. I had a few interviews today, and I don’t have to fly out until tomorrow afternoon,” he informed before you gasped and sat up.

 “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

 “If it involved beers and music, then yeah,” Chris answered.

 You screeched. It had been months since you’d been able to hang out together. You always had a great time together.

 “So? You down to take me out?”

 “Take you out? You’re such a dork.”

 “You like this dork. Can I take that as a yes?”

 “Yes. Come by my place at eight.”

 “You know that is two hours from now, right? Will you actually be ready? I don’t want to wait for you for an hour, Y/N.”

 “You won’t be waiting. I’ll be ready,” you promised.

“Okay, eight. See you then,” Chris finalized before you hung up.

When eight o’clock rolled around, you were not ready, and you knew he was gonna flip out. You ran around your townhouse, trying to finish getting ready. After putting the finishing touches on your makeup look and spritzing yourself with your perfume of the month, you grabbed your clutch in time to hear the doorbell ring. He was ten minutes late, and you knew it was purposely done. Skipping down the steps, you made it to the front door to let him in before he rang again. He gave you a quick once over and stopped at your bare feet.

 “I gave you ten extra minutes, and you’re still not ready,” Chris whined. Rolling your eyes, you walked away, leaving the door open.

 “Chris, I’m ready. Just give me two minutes. Plus, why are you ringing the doorbell? You have a key.”

 You heard the door shut and then heard his footsteps before he turned the corner. “I don’t have any keys on me tonight.”

 You tipped your foot onto one of the steps and rubbed the handful of perfumed lotion you carried down with you and paid attention to what you were doing. You didn’t register that everything was quiet. When you looked and turned to him, you rubbed the excess between your thighs.

 “What?”

 “Uh---nothing, you look incredible. It’s been months.”

You smiled warmly and approached him with your arms stretched out for the hug. He wrapped his arms around you, and the two of you rocked from side to side. His arms engulfed you as they always had, but he felt like he’d bulked up some more.

 “Bulked up?”

“Gotta keep the physique looking good.” You rolled your eyes and stepped into your shoes in the corner and adjusted the hemline of your dress.

 “See, ready,” you said with a twirl and a pose.

 The ride in the cab was not a quiet one. Chris filled you in on everything he’d been doing over the last few months and told you about any new experiences he’d had. There was never one moment of quiet. You’d always found it comforting that no matter how much time passed where the two of you didn’t see each other, it never mattered when you got back together. You talked like no time had passed at all. When he began to tease you about the recent accomplishments you’d made with work, you sat there and ate up the praise. He knew you hated it, but he still did it. Truth be told, you didn’t mind the praise from him; it was from others you hated.

 When you walked into the hottest new restaurant in the diamond district, Chris had your clutch and his hand at the small of your back like the perfect gentleman he was. The Friday night crowd was out, and the restaurant was bumbling with overlapping conversations and the clatter of dishes and glasses. As you passed the tables on the way to your own, you felt the eyes of passing men but ignored them. You ordered the first round of drinks and asked for time to decide. That was when you noticed Chris’s eyes on you.

“What?”

 “Don’t what me? I must have clocked seven guys just checking you out,” he informed. You rolled your eyes again.

 “You’re exaggerating.”

 “Am not. I saw it with my own eyes,” Chris insisted.

 “Ignore them. Why are you looking at other men watching me?”

 “Because I need to know and be ready to drop one of them if they step out of line,” Chris boasted. You smirked and shook your head. He’d been dropping guys in your name since you were kids. You knew it was a protective gesture, so you didn’t care.

 “What about you? I see plenty of eyes slanting over her to check out your baby blues and cabin in the woods beard.”

 Chris laughed heartily again. You liked to tease him about his beard.

 “You know you like the beard. Don’t lie, puddin’.”

 You couldn’t stifle your laugh at the mention of his nickname for you that stemmed from an incident in your childhood. “Are you going to drop one of them for me?”

 “Hell no, I don’t fight for no man, honey,” you quickly responded.

 “I’m not just anybody,” Chris defended. You took him in for a few moments, but the moment was interrupted by the waiter bringing by your drinks.

 The two of you ordered your meals and got right back into talking and teasing one another. You’d missed him, and it was evident he’d missed you too. Dinner was delicious, and the service was spectacular. Chris left a generous tip after he paid the bill much to your annoyance. He knew you hated being kept. You worked hard to make your own money and liked to spend it. When you protested, he overrode your voice and went ahead and did it anyway. He didn’t do it to be sexist; he did it because that was how Ms. Lisa raised him.

 After another fifteen-minute ride in a cab, you arrived at a club that Tandy had told you about weeks ago but hadn’t gotten around to going. From the modern exterior, it looked really exclusive. The neon lights were dark but blinding. The colors were all aesthetically pleasing and complimented the fresh slate of the outside. When you walked to the guards in front of the establishment, they looked at you from head to toe and smiled their approval. They then glanced at Chris, who had his head dipped low so no one recognized him. When the guards opened the doors for you, those who were in line groaned and whined their displeasure.

 “Oh shut up, or you won’t be getting in at all!” Those in line instantly shut their mouths. You walked in front of Chris down the dark corridor.

“Guess you wore the right dress,” he whispered.

 “Guess I did.”

 The corridor ended and opened up to loud music and even darker neon lights that gave everyone enough privacy to have a good time however they saw fit.

 “Wow,” Chris uttered.

 “Right. How long has it been since you danced your ass off white boy?”

 You walked down the steps toward the dance floor and turned to him as you began to dance as well. His smile was bright as he shook his head. You beckoned him to you as you continued to dance. When he got in front of you, he began showing you that rhythm he had. He had more rhythm than any white boy you’d ever met, and he took pride in his dance moves. When he busted out some old two-step, you threw your head back and laughed loudly. Chris then wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to him. The two of you danced and got lost in the music.

It felt good to finally cut loose after such a long time being work-focused. You’d tried to ignore how badly you needed a night out, but right now, you couldn’t ignore it any longer. Chris kept his hands respectful as you danced close together. Every so often, he turned you and danced behind you, keeping up with the latest dance moves. You leaned to his ear.

 “Someone’s been watching Tik Tok,” you teased. He laughed again and brought his lips to your ears.

 “And paying attention to my niece and nephew,” he joked.

 After an hour of dancing, the two of you found an empty area and ordered two rounds of drinks. As you drank and swayed in your seats to the music, you shouted at each other, still catching up. The music was so loud that you missed a few words here or there, but because you knew him so well, you knew what he was saying. There were so many instances where you each finished each other’s sentences before laughing together about it.

 “More dancing?”

 You nodded and took his hand and allowed him to lead you back to the dancefloor. It was even more crowded than before, and you were shocked; he still hadn’t been recognized. He was also surprised, but you could tell he was enjoying his new anonymity. Your moves got sillier and sillier the more you drank, and his got more frat boy as he knocked drink after drink back.

 At one point, you ended up in the air being moved through the crowd with you shouting. When you returned to your feet, there Chris was in the center of the circle doing some old school moves that had you laughing. He found you in the crowd and posed. You knew what it meant and panicked as you rapidly shook your head. Chris stamped his foot adamantly and gave you a stern look. You shook your head again, but he was not letting up. Rolling your eyes, you just gave in. He smiled once he saw he’d worn you down. With two nods of your head you ran toward him, he bent and did his best Patrick Swayze impersonation from Dirty Dancing by hoisting you into the air and holding you there. The crowd erupted with loud cheers and hooting. You looked down at Chris and found his eyes already on you. Shaking your head, you giggled before he allowed you to drop into his arms so he could slide you down his body.

 “You’re such a dork!”

 The night passed in a blur. You drank an excessive amount of alcohol, and after a while, the vibe in the club turned utterly hedonistic. When someone approached you with an assortment of party enhancements, you were shocked when Chris’s hand was the first to fly out for the trey. His only response was “live a little.” He made you look like such a prude sometimes. Since peer pressure always worked, you chose two items off the trey and took one of the rolled joints.

 You danced, drank, puffed and passed to each other and allowed whatever you’d taken to take you higher than either of you had been in a long time. When you left the club and climbed into the back of a cab, you could see the sky beginning streak with the impending sunrise. Neither of you could stop laughing about any and every stupid thing. When you got back to your place, you stumbled inside and laughed a lot more before you made it to the living room floor where you sprawled out on.

“Oh my god, do you remember the last time we were high together?”

 You snorted and laughed for a little while. “Nope, it’s been months though.”

 “What did we take?”

 “I don’t know, but all these colors are so vivid,” you responded.

 “They are,” Chris answered. Both of you let out a united, “wow.”

 Several minutes passed with the two of you lying on the floor in front of the big French window looking up at the sky. You had such a delicious high that nothing felt real or like it mattered. All of your senses were heightened. You could smell Chris’ cologne like you wore it and taste the last drink you had before leaving the club almost forty minutes ago. The material of your dress gently rubbed against your skin, and though it hadn’t felt bothersome before, it sure did now. Even the coolness of the floor felt incredible against your skin.

 “Why’d we never get together, Y/N?”

 Your snort was loud, louder than it should have been.

 “Shut up. You’re so stupid.”

 He laughed right along with you before he stopped. “I wanna know. We’ve been friends since we were eleven. I knew you before you got boobs,” Chris reminisced.

 Again, you couldn’t help but snicker.

“And I knew you before your balls dropped,” you countered. Neither of you could keep a straight face with that one.

 “See. So why?”

 You sighed and lifted your leg into the air, not expecting that your heel would fly right off and across the room to knock something onto the floor with a loud clatter. That set you both off laughing uncontrollably.

 “Because I know everything about you, and you know everything about me,” you informed.

 “Some would say that’s a good thing.”

 Looking to your left at him, you scoffed and shook your head. “Not for us. I know too much. We’d never work. Our uglies won’t play well together,” you finished before looking back to the sky.

 “Well, I think everything would play well together,” Chris countered this time.

 You shook your head and sat up to reach the bar that you knew was close by. Raising onto your knees, you grabbed the first bottle you could reach then dropped down onto your elbows to look at it.

 “What’d ya get?”

 You looked at him with a wide smile. “Hennessey. How adventurous are you feeling?”

“Crack it open,” Chris answered with a strong Bostonian accent. You opened the bottle and brought it to the head for a few gulps before handing it off to Chris. Then you leaned back on the ottoman that was there. You watched him take his gulp. He wrinkled his nose and blew out.

 “How would you handle my tendency to push people away?”

 Chris looked at you, took another gulp from the bottle, and blew out a breath again.

 “Hmm—not let you push me away.”

 You rolled your eyes at his genius plan. “Great plan, dork. How would I handle your tendency to be a flirtatious dick?”

 He smiled his signature Chris Evans smile and lifted both his eyebrows. “By knowing I only have eyes for you.”

 You snorted and shook your head before you grabbed the bottle. “Bullshit,” you said before bringing it to your head.

 “I’m being serious right now,” Chris protested louder than necessary.

 “You’re drunk. That is the only reason why you’re bringing this up.”

 “Okay, yes. I’m drunk and high as fuck, but that does not make the question any less valid.”

 He was being his annoyingly persistent self. Usually, this trait would be a good thing, endearing even, but when he was drunk, it was anything but endearing.

 “What do you want from me, Chris?”

 “You’ve never thought about us?”

 “There is no us,” you pointed out.

 “I know that, but you’ve never thought about it?”

 You didn’t hesitate with your answer. “No. I mean, not really.”

 “I’ve thought about it,” Chris admitted.

 You had to laugh then. He was really venturing into unchartered territory. You’d never talked about anything like this before.

 “Shut up. You have not!”

 “I have. It was brief, but I thought about it,” Chris confessed.

 The two of you were silent for a while. Your mind was running as fast as it could, which wasn’t that fast because of whatever party enhancements you’d taken. You couldn’t wrap your head around this conversation.

 “And?” Your curiosity was not impaired, though.

 “And what?”

 “Did we work in your brief thought?”

 Chris took a deep breath and grabbed the bottle and took another healthy gulp.

 “I don’t know. It was like a flash of a few instances. We seemed—happy.”

 “Liar. We probably argued like cats and dogs.”

 Your laugher intermingled before you both fell silent again, just watching the sky change its hue.

 “Nah—we were good together like always,” Chris finished.

 You took the bottle and took three big gulps and almost gagged from the burn in your throat that rushed to burst into flames in your belly. You were quiet for a few minutes, but it was you who looked at him first. Sensing your eyes on him, he looked to you, and the two of you just gazed at each other. It was the two of you who moved in simultaneously before hesitating just when your lips were going to touch. Some part of you said stop, but it was a small, quiet part, every other part of you was telling you to do it.

 When your lips touched neither of you moved, you stayed there, letting it sink in. When you did move, it was a slow and cautious kiss. Your lips pressed and brushed together in an intimate way that was foreign for the context of your relationship. Though it was foreign, it felt good. After what must have been minutes, Chris deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into your mouth to curl around yours. A moan escaped you, and as if that moan was the hammer that destroyed whatever wall and gate that kept the two of you from going down this path. Chris moaned after you, and it was a new sound for you. You rose onto your knees at the same time Chris did the same thing. He cupped your skull and kissed you more earnestly. Your hand gripped his waist and loved the heat radiating off him.

 You kissed him back with as much passion and yearning he kissed you. For several long minutes, that is all you did. It was a feeling to relish, a feeling you wanted more of. You were the first to begin to undo his shirt. When Chris felt your finger graze his chest, he pulled his lips from yours to peer into your eyes. You were focused on his shirt and the goal you had—to get his clothes off. Once the buttons were undone, you pushed his shirt off and looked over his exposed skin. He had buffed up, you thought. When your eyes met, neither of you moved for quite a while. It was as if both of you were taking in the moment and fully acknowledging the line you were about to cross.

 Your lips crashed together, and from there, no one could tell where he began, and you ended. Your moans echoed in the quiet room. Chris’s hands touched you everywhere, the back of your head, your neck, the small of your back and your ass. His large hands cupped your bottom and pulled you flush against him. When he pulled your head back by your hair, he latched his lips onto your neck, which had you biting onto his shoulder as you enjoyed the sensations of his lips on your skin.  When he nibbled your ear lobe, you threw your head back but grabbed at his pants and began unbuckling his belt. Your movements were quick.

 You felt Chris lower the zipper down your spine then trail his finger along your skin until he reached the back of your neck. Once there, he gripped you and angled your head, so you looked at him. You could see nothing but desire in his eyes, and that was all you cared about. You kissed him again and took control. You teased his tongue then nibbled his bottom lip as you finally got his pants open. Chris then peeled your dress off your body, revealing your naked body to him for the first time since you were twelve.

 He looked enflamed as if the sight of you set him on fire. You grabbed the bottle from the floor and gulped a mouthful before holding it out to him. You laid back onto the floor just as Chris accepted the bottle and took two gulps from it before he put it to the side and lowered his head to your breast. He sucked it into his mouth and teased it along with the mouthful of Hennessey. As he explored your skin for the first time, you hugged his head to you and arched your back, feeding him even more of your flesh.

 Chris brought his lips to your other breast and did the same before he ended on a forceful nibble. He trailed kisses down the center of your body. When he got to your belly button, you watched as he dribbled the remainder of the liquor in it. The wayward glance he offered you only set you on fire even more. He languidly slurped the liquid from the indentation and used his tongue to swirl around it to ensure he got it all then peeled the rest of the dress off of your body with help from your lifted legs.

 Slowly Chris spread your thighs and looked between them at your black lace thong. After looping his thumbs at the waist of the garment, he pulled them off of you. When he got the first glimpse of your sex, he sucked in a breath then groaned.

 “Fuck, you’re gorgeous!” That was the only thing he said before he buried his face between your thighs and began demonstrating all the ways he was good with his mouth. He expertly flicked his tongue across your clit before he sucked it into his mouth only to repeat the action from before. He did it in a dizzying pattern, one that had you on edge and needing more.

 You buried your fingers in his hair and held his head in place and began bucking your hips across his lips. His moan was one of approval. He liked that you were using his face to get yourself off that turned you on even more. Chris pressed your thighs back to the cool floor and held them there then took control of the way he ate your pussy. In seconds you saw stars and found yourself panting and muttering incoherently. You didn’t care that you were getting loud; all you cared about was him keeping his pace. Chris dipped his tongue into your heat, and you lost your shit. Screeching out, you came on his mouth as you bucked even more wildly truing to milk and prolonging the pleasure you felt.

 “Mmmm, you taste so fucking good. I could eat this pussy all night,” Chris huskily purred. The dim light that poured in behind him bathed him, making him look like some sort of heavenly creature. He was gorgeous, and you began to wonder if he’d always been gorgeous or were you seeing him in a new light. Chris lowered his head to kiss your inner thigh. Then he dropped a suctioned kiss to your clit that renewed the fire you felt. Lifting your legs, you pushed at his pants, hinting for him to take them off.

 Answering your silent plea Chris arched over you, allowing you to use your feet to free him of the confining material. The loud clatters of him kicked off his shoes echoed in the room, but then he remained hovered over your body, showcasing his incredible upper body strength and giving you the first look of grown-up Chris. His cock was long, thick, and mesmerizing. Long gone were the days of him having a skinny pale-looking worm, he’d grown nicely.

 “I know what you’re thinking,” Chris breeched. You raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

 “You’re thinking about the first time you saw it when we were eleven. It looks a lot different now.”

 You smiled and wrapped your legs around his waist. “I promise I know what to do with it now,” Chris finished with a smirk.

 “Prove it,” you whispered. He shook his head and, but you could see the fire in his eyes. He liked a challenge; he liked feeling like he had something to prove. He crashed his lips to yours again and stole your breath in seconds. You moaned on him and wrapped your arms around his back. The way the muscles there danced and spasmed had you moaning even more.

 When you felt him press forward to sink the tip of his intrusion in, you gasped on his mouth and angled your head back, giving him unrestricted access to your neck. Chris groaned as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and continued sinking into you. With each agonizingly slow glide, you came that much closer to falling apart. He stretched you so deliciously, so perfectly that your body began to shake. In no way were you prepared for the size of him, and he was blowing your mind with just what the good Lord blessed him with. It sure didn’t look like much when you were kids.  After him feeding you half of his length, you gripped him tightly, which had him grunting before fully thrusting into you.

 “Fuck!” Both of you shouted out together, him feeling the full heat of your body and you claiming your second release of the night.

 Chris took several deep breathes then slowly pulled back, leaving only the tip of him before he looked down to watch as he filled you to the hilt once again. A whimper escaped him before he did it again, and again and again. Each time he snapped his hip forward more forcefully, and each time your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Chris began to move within you like a wave ebbed at the shore. His eyes met yours, and the moment became even more intense.

 After a few minutes, Chris was rocking in and out of you to his own rhythm. It was clear he had one goal, and it was to bring you as much pleasure as possible. his lips tasted every part of your upper body, neck, shoulder, earlobe, collar, nipple and each time he tasted of you he acted as if your skin was the sustenance he needed. After your third orgasm, you flipped him onto his back and rocked your hips against him. Chris arched his back and spread his arms out beside him as he released a deep groan.

 He watched your body move and allowed you to take your pleasure from him. Every time you rocked forward, you felt him lurch within you, and after the fourth time, you were addicted to the feeling. Using his abdomen as leverage, you bounced on him as you rocked, changing the angle of which he pumped into you and the intensity of the sensations. Chris gripped your hips and held you where you were before he pumped up into your core.

 “Ah, shit, yes! Mmm, fuck me!”

 With the demand, you were on your back once again with your ankles on his shoulders, and him hovered over you as he fucked you better then you could remember ever having it done before. He was reaching places you’d forgotten were there. Your skin was peppered with goosebumps, and every time he stoked that sweet spot in you, your whimpers picked up. When you heard Chris’ moans, you used his shoulders as a brace to begin rolling your body like a wave giving as good as you got.

 “Fuck!” The way Chris looked at you said he hadn’t expected you to do that, and he was quickly losing his shit. You dropped your legs and pushed him away. You had the strongest urge to have him in your mouth. Quickly you rose to a sitting position before you bent down to lick at his cock.

 Chris sucked in a long breath and groaned out with every inch you sank into your mouth. When your lips wrapped around his entire shaft, Chris gripped your head and groaned loudly.

 “Oh my god.” You pulled back and repeated the action before you sped your movements. You knew he was close; you could feel it with everything in you. Bringing your hand to join your lips, you worked him with a pattern you knew would be his finisher. As you swirled your tongue around him, he let out a shriek that was music to your ears. Chris sank back onto his heels, then panted and groaned.

 “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Locking eyes with him, you moaned on him but sped your lips. He knew what you intended, and he was powerless to stop you. After the fourth lodge in your throat, you moaned, and just like that, he came. You moaned and took everything he had. Several long moments later, you pulled your mouth free and moaned with a cocky smile. Chris’ jaw was dropped with a look of sheer disbelief on his face.

 You grabbed the bottle and took a mouthful of the brown liquor and moaned as the flavorful liquid washed down the mouthful he’d just given you.

 “Fuck outta here,” Chris chided, letting his accent shine through. He then grabbed the bottle, took a gulp of his own, and grabbed you before he pushed you over the ottoman. In seconds he’d sank into you again like he hadn’t just come. He was more than ready.

 This round, he was in full control, and he used his control to show you just how much he’d grown and how much he knew now. Long gone were the days of him experimenting and practicing. He was a big boy now, and he was fucking you the way big boys did—roughly, deeply and thoroughly. You screamed his name and panted with every snap of his hips into you. When he grabbed your hair to pull you back against him to then gently grab your throat, you lost it. Never in your life had you been into this kind of play, but with him right now, the forceful and dominating way he held you and commanded your body was making you weak and ready to let him take it any way he wanted.

 From the ottoman, you moved to one of your couches where he used it at a perch for his foot to give you a deeper, more intense angle that sent you over the edge. From there, he pressed you against the cold window tempting anyone who dared look in to watch as he fucked the life out of you. When you finally came again, you were back on the floor with him over you, giving you slow, deep strokes that were next to impossible to take, but you took it. You took every fucking thing he gave.

  -The Next Day-

The sound of the passing garbage truck and then street sweeping machine stirred you wake. Groaning, you sat up only to get shriek when the harsh light beamed down into your face. Shielding your eyes, you waited for them to adjust before you peeped through them and to your right. Your head was pounding, and everything you looked at was blurry.

 “Oh my god,” you groaned. Waiting a few minutes, you sat there feeling worse than you’d felt in a long, long time. When you looked to your right again, you saw the nearly empty bottle of Hennessey and groaned.

 “Uuugh, fuck you, Henny,” you groaned out before you opened your eyes wider.

 You felt a body beside you shift, and then you felt the unmistakable nudge of a dick against you. Your head snapped to the right to see Chris lying there shirtless with your throw blanket draped haphazardly across his man parts. Your jaw dropped as panic began to set in. You looked at yourself and saw you were topless and that the same throw was across your lap as well.

 Slapping your hand across your mouth in an attempt to keep any sound from escaping, you began to hyperventilate. Again, the nudge of a dick pressed more forcefully against you. You were horrified but filled with a strange curiosity that you fought with every fiber of your being. You were afraid to move. It was as if you thought if you didn’t move, then none of this would be real. It wouldn’t be real that you’d just had sex with your best friend. So, without moving, you sat there and stared out the window before you.

 You don’t know how long you just stared out the window in a daze, but you felt when Chris woke. His groan said he too felt the pounding in his head. You decided not to look his way; this would only get worse that way. You remembered everything.

 “Oh—fuck,” Chris whispered. You nodded, knowing the weight of everything had set in. He sat up beside you, but neither of you spoke, you just stared out the window in front of you.

 After a few moments, you couldn’t handle being this close, and you got up to realize you were completely naked. Chris instinctively looked over you before he shook his head and looked away.

 “Oh fuck,” he repeated. You hurried away toward the second couch and took the other throw blanket and wrapped yourself in it before walking out toward the kitchen. You needed coffee.

As you worked the almost five-thousand-dollar espresso machine in your kitchen, you went over everything that happened the night before. The more you remembered, the more panicked you became. When Chris came into the kitchen, he was dressed with his shirt unbuttoned enough, showing his chest tattoos. He approached the espresso machine as you turned to walk away from it. Your bodies bounced, and with it came another memory of the night before. You abruptly turned and went the opposite way to sit at the nook. You sat in silence while staring into the cup of coffee.

 Chris sat with you, but he also remained quiet for several more minutes.

 After a few sips of coffee, he spoke, “Soooo, that happened.”

 “Did it? Do you actually remember it happening?”

 Chris nodded slowly as his facial expressions became more and more animated. “Uh—yeah. I remember a lot of things,” Chris answered.

 “Oh, god.” You rubbed your forehead and took a big gulp of the black sludge in your white ceramic cup.

 “Where did you learn to do that thing with your mouth?”

 “Chris!” Your shock was evident.

 “Sorry. Right not important.”  

 The silence returned and stretched as both of you still struggled to wrap your heads around the last eighteen hours.

 “Have you always been able to make it jump like that?”

 Chris paused his coffee cup filled hand in midair as he glanced at you. “Did you like it?”

 “Shut up, shut up, shut up. Not important,” you drilled.

 Again, you were silent, just sipping away at your coffee, refusing to address the enormous elephant in the room.

 “What about the way you squeezed me? How’d you learn that?”

 You slapped your hand to your face. “Oh my god, Chris. We have to forget what happened. It shouldn’t have happened,” you began.

 “Yeah, but how do we forget it all? It was a lot. You did things to me—whooo, no good catholic woman knows how to do what you did,” Chris admitted as your jaw dropped.

 “Shut up. You’re the one to talk. You’re no good catholic boy. Does your mother know what you do with that mouth?”

 When the two of you began laughing together, the tension between you fell away, and you were left with the normal way you always talked. It was comfortable.

 “Oh my god,” you groaned out again.

 “I don’t want anything to be weird,” Chris quietly began as he looked at you. You nodded your agreement. That was the last thing you wanted too.

 “It won’t be. It was a one-time thing. We were really, really, really fucked up.”

 “One-time thing,” Chris repeated as you both nodded in agreement.

 You finished your coffee and made him a quick bowl of oatmeal that you shared. Though both of you tried to ignore the elephant and forget it was there, it wasn’t so easy. You caught his eyes on the parts of your body the throw exposed as you moved, and you recognized the look on his face. You were sure he caught the way your eyes stayed glued to his exposed chest or his hands as he used them. All you could think about was the way he’d touched you, and the feel of his weight hover you.

 You were now in this weird limbo place, and you didn’t know what to make of it. You knew, though, that you didn’t want to lose what you had.

 “Ah damnit,” Chris hissed as he looked at his watch.

 “You gotta go,” you informed. He nodded and confirmed.

 “I have an appearance to film before my flight out.”

 “Yeah. Go, go. It’s cool. We’ll talk,” you rushed out.

 “You’re sure?”

 “Yes, Chris, get to work.” You smiled, then stood and led the way to the front door. Chris made sure he had everything he needed and stopped in front of it facing you.

 “Uh—thank you for last night,” he awkwardly began. You quirked your eyebrow and scrunched your face.

 “Uh---.”

 “Weird?”

 “I mean, it’s like you’re thanking me for sex,” you informed.

 “Fair enough. At least I’m not shoving an envelope of a few thousands in your hand,” Chris teased before he got a slap to the gut.

 “No thank yous, no I’m sorries, just—go.”

 He nodded and came in to kiss your cheek awkwardly. Your eyes met, and they lingered before he pulled back to kiss your forehead. After he did, he turned to walk out the door.

 “Jesus,” you whispered.

 All you wanted to do was bury your head under your blankets, but you knew you’d obsess over the entire night and think about it way too much. You also knew the chances of you overthinking it and making things worse were almost guaranteed. You decided to keep yourself busy. For the remainder of the day, you ran errands, cleaned your house, and did everything not to give yourself any time to sit and think.

 By the time evening came, you got a text from Chris letting you know he was lifting off and that he’d call when he landed. Your reply was typical Y/N.

 MSG: Eh, don’t worry about calling. It’s not necessary. Have a safe flight.

When you asked him how he’d handle when you pushed him away, you were being honest. He knew you had this tendency. Even though you told him it wasn’t necessary, he still called. You watched it ring and ring until it ended. That was how things went for the majority of the weeks that passed. Every time he called, you either ignored it entirely and pretended it never happened or sent a meager text a few hours later, apologizing for missing his call. You’d then text back and forth in intervals thanks to his busy schedule until one of you—usually, you let the conversation fade.

 A week passed, then two, then four until seven had passed where you’d barely spoken or texted. You knew you were being super weird about things even when you were the one to promise things wouldn’t be weird. You also knew that you were pushing him away, and it was the absolute opposite of what you wanted to do. It was apparent in how you kept up with him in the tabloids and news articles. Every time he had an accomplishment, you cheered for him while sending a dry text showing your support. It was usually a text he responded to with the same dryness.

 In that time, you used your work as a crutch and excuse to pile more on to keep busy. You stayed so busy that you ignored the signs of exhaustion your body was sending you. When you passed out at work from severe dizziness, you finally listened and took the rest of the day off to work at home. While in the cab and tapping away in an email, you felt the first bout of nausea. That one feeling had you opening your calendar to go over your dates. When you realized you were over six weeks late, you nearly passed out again.

 After stopping by a pharmacy for not one or two but eight pregnancy tests, you beelined it home. It took you a whole hour to get the nerve to take them. You kept putting it off and doing everything else but. Once you took them, you sat on your bathroom floor, surrounded by pregnancy tests. You tried your best to keep your head clear and not think any thoughts. Your phone went off for the fourth time, signifying that the five minutes needed had passed long ago. You’d sat on the floor for twenty minutes, unable to look at not even one test.

“Come on Y/N. You fought for everything in your life. You’re successful, financially comfortable, just look at the damn test.” You took several deep breathes and looked down at the first test to see two double lines.

 “Oh.”

 You moved on to the next one and bugged your eyes, seeing another pair of double lines. Quickly you moved to the next and read the word “pregnant” in the clear blue window. As you looked around you, each and every text showed double lines, a plus sign, or the word “pregnant.” You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

 You were pregnant with your best friend’s baby.

 You were pregnant with Chris’ baby.

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