#sometimes i just need to scream about my boys with someone who watches hockey in an lgbt way

[domifucker]

i need to find someone irl who i can be insufferable about the leafies with

[fruitcoops]

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

[troubatrain]

set it up - a. beauvillier

a/n: i started this idk 9000 years ago with three different hockey boys but i’ve never written for tito and this could be 6k words of absolute garbage but i think you guys will like it?? it was inspired when i watching the Netflix movie Set It Up, which I absolutely love because who doesn’t love a romcom. I wanna thank @nazdaddy​ for giving it a quick read like halfway through to hype me up you’re a real one!!

You felt sick.

Your feet hurt, your head was pounding and you were absolutely soaked. It started in the morning, waking up late for and having to sacrifice your morning coffee so your boss wouldn’t kill you. Then there was the workday from hell, skipping lunch to work on a project because your boss’s son had a brain the size of a raisin. By the time five rolled around, a storm had sweeped into New York, soaking the city streets on a day when you didn’t have an umbrella on hand. The subway packed, and by the time you’d gotten back to your apartment you were absolutely exhausted. You were looking forward to a night in, a glass of wine and ordering take out.

Then you were met with the sight of a pink scrunchie, sparkling against your door and stopping you dead in your tracks.

Rose was your best friend, and that was the sole reason why you haven’t murdered her yet. You’d lived with Rose since you were freshman in college, randomly paired up as roommates and you got lucky she turned out to be your friend. In all of those years, she’d been with the same guy who she met approximately four hours after you moved into your dorm. Cam was great, until one day he just wasn’t. Rose still didn’t know what happened, but after grieving the longest relationship she’d ever been in for months, she was finally ready to start dating again. Turns out, dating again, was going to ruin your life.

You furrow your eyebrows, rubbing your hand over your eyes and trying to remember if she mentioned having anyone over. You open your phone, remembering how you turned on do not disturb sometime after she sent you her tenth meme of the day while you were working your ass off.

Having Kyle over for dinner - among other things, can you stay out for a bit?

You lean your head back, letting out a small scream in frustration. You hear a laugh behind you, and you turn around to be met by your neighbor. Anthony Beauvillier was an okay neighbor. He was quiet, usually giving you some sort of heads up that he’d been having a party which was rare. You knew he was gone most of the time because of hockey, but you never cared to ask any questions further than that. One thing you did notice about your neighbor, was just how handsome he looked in a suit on the rare occasion you caught him in the elevator.

“You okay?” Anthony asks, turning his head to the side, “Are you locked out?”

“No,” You sigh, debating whether or not you really needed to drop this on him, “Rose has a friend over, and I missed her text to tell me to stay out.”

“But you’re soaked,” Anthony points out, pointing to the water that was dripping off of you, “Come by me.”

“Oh you don’t have to do that, I’ll just-” You start to decline his invite, but his eyes were kind while they were staring at you, an amused smile on his face.

“C’mon Y/N, I’ll get you some dry clothes,” Anthony smiles, opening up his apartment door and insisting you came in, “And I’m not going to cook all of this for myself.”

Anthony holds up the grocery bags in his hand, soft eyes and a smile to match staring back at you. You nod, taking the invitation inside because it beat sloshing around in your heels, “Thanks Anthony.”

“You can call me Beau if you want,” Anthony shrugs, pointing down the hallway of the apartment that was identical to yours, “My rooms down there take whatever you want.”

Anthony moves around his kitchen, his mind wandering about why he felt compelled to invite her neighbor inside. Really he felt bad, you looked like you were having an awful day and getting sexiled from your own apartment probably would have been enough to break you. Anthony was tired too, his body was sore from a rough practice earlier that day. Not to mention the team was on a five game losing streak and while Anthony knew he could be doing more himself, he knew Mat wasn’t playing up to usual standards either.

Mat was a mess, and it was starting to drive Anthony absolutely crazy. He thought he was in love, a random girl he followed on Instagram who he took out a few times. Mat thought it was something, turns out she thought it was something casual. Now, his usual cocky and charismatic best friend was just a sad shell of himself. Selfishly, Anthony wanted him to get over it because if he did then they’d probably win a few more games and Trotz wouldn’t have them skate until someone threw up.

Then it hit him, the second you walked back into the kitchen with his clothes hanging off your frame while you pulled your hair back an idea came to Anthony’s head. If you wanted peace and quiet, he could give it to you, “Does Rose do this a lot?”

“Lately,” You sigh, sitting at the barstool next to the island, “Her boyfriend broke up with and after she cried for a few months she decided to be single and that’s ruining my life.”

“What if I could help?” Anthony asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“You don’t need to let me into your place because Rose is-” You go to tell him no - whatever idea he had couldn’t be a fix all solution for your current problem.

“My teammate Mat, he’s single, and honestly sad, but he does have his own place where Rose can spend all her time…” Anthony suggests, dragging out his last words to give you a minute to think.

“What if they don’t even like each other?” You ask, stating what you thought should be the obvious.

“We’ll just set them up on a few dates, I’ll give Mat advice that you give me and it’ll all work out,” Anthony argues back, “We’re in complete control here.”

“But then it’s not real,” You remind him, that if you told Mat exactly how to date Rose it wouldn’t be Mat dating Rose at all.

“Does it matter?” Anthony asks, “You get a quiet apartment and my team gets a few wins, “What's the harm?”

“The harm is our friend's feelings,” You say, your hands in the air while you continued to talk. You were stopped by a ding on your phone, a text from Rose giving you a fair warning that her friend was staying over. You roll your eyes, “You know what - fine.”

“Really? You’re in?”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

***

You didn’t know why Anthony had you meeting him at the coffee shop just a few blocks away from your building, but judging by the all black outfit he was sporting, something told you that it was because he was taking this set up thing too seriously.

“Are we spies now?” You ask, slipping into the chair and crossing your arms, “Because if we are you aren’t doing a very good job.”

“I’m not doing a good job? You’re wearing yellow,” Anthony says, “You could not be any more obvious.”

“Whatever, when’s Mat going to get here?” You ask, grabbing the coffee Anthony had waiting for you.

The plan was simple, Anthony knew that Mat knew who Rose was to some capacity, because Mat had told his friend on more than one occasion about how hot his neighbors were. So, you were both going to force them to actually speak to each other. Anthony suggested just telling them that you were setting them up on a date, but you insisted that if this was going to work they would have to think this happened without the will of the two of you. So you both invited them to the same place, and after you both conveniently miss your plans they would have to run into eachother.

“He should be here soon, I tipped the barista $40 to mix up their coffees and let us watch from their kitchen,” Anthony explains, holding up to his end of the plan, “Which by the way, was way more than I think they would have taken.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll be okay,” You roll your eyes, reminding him that you were living with Rose to keep your rent down while Anthony could live alone comfortably, “Shit, I see them.”

You both got up, sneaking into the back where the barista who was working just shook her head at the two of you. You peek out, watching the scene unfold in front of you. Anthony wraps his arm around your chest, pulling you back into him, “I swear if you get caught.”

You try to push the thought about how good Anthony smelled, or how nice his arm felt around you while you tried to focus on Rose who just grabbed Mat’s coffee by accident. Mat tells her it’s his, a joke about how familiar she looked following shortly after. Their conversation was brief, and for a minute you thought maybe it wasn’t going to work. Then you saw Mat slip his phone out of his pocket, holding it out for Rose to take.

“Oh my god, it’s working,” You exclaim, Anthony’s hand flying over your mouth immediately. He mumbled something in French, and there was no way you were going to be able to make it out. Anthony’s phone dings, and he pulls it out to show a text from Mat sent promptly after Rose was out of the cafe.

I think I just asked your neighbor out.

Anthony was beaming, pulling his hand off your mouth while you both watched Mat leave the shop, “This date needs to be perfect.”

“It will be as long as you listen to me,” You say, turning around to cross your arms at him, “Because if this is going to work-”

“You almost blew our cover, I’m in charge here,” Anthony scoffs, “You’re like the worst sidekick in the world.”

“You’re the sidekick here.”

“No it’s you, you’re Robin and I’m Batman.”

***

“Here?”

“No.”

“How about this one?”

“God, no she hates seafood.”

You’d been trying to figure out where you were going to set up Mat and Rose’s first date for hours. Every restaurant Anthony mentioned just wasn’t enough, and Mat was dying for some help from his friend. Anthony was frustrated, mostly with you for not just choosing something and calling it a day.

“This is why you’re single, by the way, because these places are just meh,” You argue, pulling his laptop from his hands, “Where’s the romance?”

“I’ll have you know I’m very romantic,” Anthony scoffs, not having any of your shit, “Ask any girl I’ve ever dated.”

“Seems like they’re all gone, wonder why,” You hum, scrolling through the Google search.

“Fine, how about this? He takes her to a show because you said she loves musicals,” Anthony suggests, pulling the laptop from your hands, “After Mat sets up a dinner by his place because he’s got a sick rooftop and if all goes to plan Rose will be there all night.”

You whip your head around to look at the man next to you, a grin on his face because he very well may have nailed it when it came to a first date. It was simple, yet fancy enough to keep Rose interested, “That just might work.”

You kept your mouth closed about why keeping Rose out all night was going to work for you. You had a date with someone you matched with on Hinge who seemed nice enough and the opportunity to take him home at the end of the night didn’t seem like a bad move. You didn’t want to let that information slip to Anthony, and you didn’t know why. You didn’t like him, and you were pretty positive he was only putting up with you because you were both trying to set Mat and Rose up.

“It’s a date then?” Anthony asks, pulling out his phone to give Mat all the details about the date he should be taking his neighbor on. Anthony made it clear to Mat he’d know, despite the fact that before the other night Anthony hadn’t had so much as a conversation with Rose or yourself. However, he had you and you knew Rose better than anyone.

***

You sat across from your date, twirling the glass of wine in your hand while he talked about his family. Ben was nice, and honestly you were enjoying his company. The restaurant was almost perfect, because knowing it made your rejection list for Mat and Rose’s first date location wasn’t something you could shake. Ben had to be oblivious to it, a delighted smile on his face from across you. Your phone rang on the table, and Anthony’s number popped up for the third time that evening. You knew Rose and Mat were well into their date at this point, and you had the night planned so perfectly nothing could possibly go wrong.

“You can take that if you need to,” Ben suggests, a gentle tone to his voice. You nod, feeling a little bad for stepping away from your conversation to answer the call.

“I’m on a date,” You grit out the second you were out of Ben’s earshot, “Someone better be dead Beau.”

“We’re about to be,” Anthony huffs out, “The chef Mat hired canceled and I have all of these ingredients and I know how to cook three things and they aren’t steak.”

“Beau,” You whisper harshly, “Figure. It. Out.”

“Absolutely not, if this tanks you’re coming down with me,” Anthony begs, “Please come to Mat’s and help me.”

So you did. You loved Rose too much to let this blow up in your face because of Anthony’s inability to cook a meal. Ben was understanding, accepting the excuse that you weren’t feeling well and even offering to pay for your cab back home. You declined, because you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had to bail out Anthony.

By the time you finally got to Mat’s, you could hear a string of curses on the other side of the door and the smell of something burning. You walked in and a pan was practically on fire while Anthony turned around frantically.

“Oh my god, move,” You demand, grabbing the pan and turning down the stove, “You really can’t cook anything?”

Anthony was dumbfounded, standing in Mat’s kitchen letting his eyes wander down your bare legs. You looked good and if you weren’t about to chew him out Anthony might have said something. But you were standing in front of him, arms crossed while you waited for him to say something. When he didn’t you sighed, pushing him out of the way and getting to work.

“Make yourself useful and set the damn table,” You demand, pointing a spatula in his direction. This dinner had to be perfect if this was going to work. You relished in the silence, getting to work on the dinner that you were left to save.

“So how was your date?” You hear Anthony’s voice float back into the apartment, and you turn around to give him a dirty look, “Or did I ruin that?”

“You didn’t totally ruin it, Ben was nice,” You shrug, not really wanting to get into it. The thing was, Ben was nice and that seemed to be a rare thing to find. Sure, you could have done without the boring work talk, but it was better than some of the other dates you’d been on lately.

“Hm, just nice?” Anthony stifles a a laugh, closing his mouth immediately when your eyes narrowed at him, “Sorry. I’ll leave probably boring but nice Ben alone.”

“I used to think you were nice, you know?” You snark back, plating the dinner just as Mat slipped in to grab the food.

“Dude you’re a lifesaver,” Mat immediately thanks Anthony and you had to roll your eyes at the sigh, “Wait aren’t you-”

“Rose’s roommate, uh yeah, she cooks all the time so I called her,” Anthony rushes to explain, the idea that Mat would recognize you going right over his head in a panic.

“Well, thanks you guys really saved my ass,” Mat says, grabbing two plates and heading up to the roof where you knew Rose was probably checking her teeth in nervous panic. 

It took forever to clean up the kitchen, Anthony’s sad initial attempt to cook was disastrous. You probably didn’t help, and by the time you were done cooking you had used every pan in Mat’s apartment. You could hear Rose’s voice in the hall and you both looked at each other in a panic. Anthony grabbed your hand, pulling you into the nearest closet to the kitchen.

“Quiet,” Anthony whispers, your mind far too distracted by your head pressed against his chest to care about just how small this closet was. You were trying to steady your own breathing, the closet was small and when Anthony took up most of the space you could feel a bit of anxiety creeping in. You wrap your arms around his waist, your fingers digging into his sides to grab a hold of quite literally anything. Anthony can feel it, how nervous you were so he took a chance and carded his fingers through your hair in an attempt to calm you down just a little bit, “Just wait until they’re in his room and I’ll take us home I promise.”

You nodded against his chest, closing your eyes and just letting Anthony provide you with any comfort he was willing to give. He was a bit snarky and definitely a little too bossy but he was the best you were going to get for the moment. You hear a door click and with Rose’s giggle on the other side you knew you were in the clear.

“So you really went through all of this just for a few wins?” You break the silence in Anthony’s car, looking out the window while he drove you both home.

“I mean, yeah, when Mat plays his best so do the rest of us,” Anthony shrugs, “Don’t tell me I could be playing better, I’ve heard it enough.”

“I wasn’t going to,” You defend, your voice small, “Do you think we could get them away for a night next weekend?”

“Hot date? Boring Ben doesn’t seem like he’d sleep over until the third date,” Anthony jokes, tapping you on the thigh.

“Sort of, I have my boss’s birthday party and I just want him to hate me less,” You admit, plus the office gossip always seemed to revolve around the fact that you never brought a date anywhere.

“I think you’re impossible to hate, trust me I’ve been trying.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

***

Everything was going wrong, like very wrong. The bigger plan was actually going the way it was supposed to, Rose and Mat were off to an Airbnb in the Hamptons for a night that Anthony just happened to mention to Mat during practice the day after you cooked them that dinner. That, however, was the only thing going well for you. You were dressed up, the black dress you were wearing looked absolutely killer on you. Your leg was poking out of the slit that was appropriate for a work event and the date you were supposed to be on, but your date was nowhere to be seen. Turns out Boring Ben wasn’t boring at all, or he was just a total douche and you never realized. Regardless, you were dateless yet again, and you had to admit it was a bit of an ego killer too. You thought about not going, but after telling a few of your coworkers that not only were you going, you were bringing a date.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the passive aggressive comments from the newlyweds who seemed to litter your office. You had ten wedding invitations last summer from your coworkers alone, and now you had to show up dateless for what felt like the millionth time in your life.

“Woah,” You hear Anthony’s voice as soon as the elevator opened, a low whistle escaping from his lips until he realized you were without your date, “Where’s that Ben dude?”

“He didn’t show if you really need to know,” You complain and Anthony could feel his heart break just a little.

Anthony sighs, taking a look at his watch and then back at you. You looked hurt, despite the smile plastered on your face that he could see right through. He was going to have a night in, maybe even invite over the girl he’d been hooking up with but in his heart he knew what the right thing to do was, “Give me five minutes to change?”

“No Beau you really don’t have to come, I got stood up, it's on me,” You rush out, stopping Anthony dead in his tracks.

“It’s not your fault that dude was an asshole,” Anthony scoffs, “And you look too good to not have a date.”

Anthony didn’t say another word, unlocking the door to his place and coming back out less than five minutes later in a freshly pressed suit, “No tie okay?”

“No tie is fine,” You squeaked out, watching Anthony fix the cuffs of his shirt. Everyone thinks a man putting on a suit is hot right? It wasn’t just that he looked damn good in it, “You can still back out.”

Anthony didn’t back out, in fact, he was a better date than you thought he could be. He was being a good sport, especially when you came to the realization your boss was a huge Islanders fan. He had Anthony by his side all night, no doubt pestering him about the season. You felt awful, and while Anthony had a smile on his face you couldn’t help but feel guilty for putting him in the situation in the first place.

“I met that boyfriend of yours,” Your coworker Stella says, nudging you with her elbow, “He seems like a keeper.”

“Oh he’s-” You went to deny any indication that Anthony was your boyfriend but you knew Stella better than that, and just like she did at everyone Monday morning team meeting, she was interrupting you before you had a chance to finish your sentence.

“And don’t even tell me it’s not serious he couldn’t stop talking about you,” Stella grabs your arm, and you raise your eyebrows and look at Anthony. He catches your eye, sending you a wink while he goes back to listening to whatever your boss was rambling about, “See? So cute.”

The night was going smoothly, and by the time dinner rolled around you were done for the night. One too many glasses of wine had your head resting on Anthony’s shoulder while your boss's wife made a toast. His hand was resting on the exposed skin on your thigh and if you weren’t convinced you were overthinking it - you may have thought Anthony was putting in a little more effort.

“I’m sorry my boss was chewing your ear off,” You whisper, catching Anthony’s attention, “I don’t want you to think I brought you because you’re you and he likes your team.”

“I don’t think that,” Anthony assures you, his lips just inches away from kissing on the forehead, “And he doesn’t hate you, he told me liked you.”

“He likes you, seems like everyone does,” You muse, after having gotten compliments all night about what a joy your boyfriend was you were sure Anthony was a better date than he was an actual companion.

“Better date than Ben?” Anthony asks, and you nod with a grin on your face.

Anthony wasn’t sure what he was doing or why. In the short time since he invited you into his place he only learned how annoying you can be, but he’d be a liar if he didn’t think it was cute. It was cute that you thought Mat and Rose could actually fall in love. It was cute that you never kept quiet when you were both sneaking around because something got you excited. And it was downright adorable to watch you laugh at your boss’s wife who was teasing her husband in her speech. He liked you, and he never thought about it until he saw the heartbroken look on your face when you told him your date stood you up.

“Ready to go home?” Anthony whispers, your eyes were getting heavier from the wine, and he wasn’t sure how much longer you would hold up until you fell asleep on his shoulder. Not that Anthony would have minded at all, he might even have preferred it.

By the time you’d gotten back to your apartment building, you made it clear why you limited yourself on wine at events. Anthony kept refilling your glass before you had a chance to stop him, and now he was practically chasing you down the hall because you insisted on running away for no reason at all.

“For a professional athlete you’re pretty slow,” You poke Anthony in the chest, who was currently fishing through your purse for your set of keys. He finally finds them turning them into the lock and opening the door, “Beauuuu.”

“Yes?” Anthony asks, grabbing your waist while you tripped over your heels.

“Do you think Mat really likes Rose?” You ask, the question wasn’t really for Anthony at all. It was coming from a guilty feeling that had been stewing inside of you for a few days. Rose seemed smitten, and a part of you knew a lot of those dates were just planned by you.

“He does, it’ll all work out,” Anthony assures you, because the frown on your face told him that if he didn’t he was about to have a crying Y/N on his hands and he didn’t want to be the one to make you cry.

“Promise?” You ask, finally slipping off your heels and leaning against the doorframe. You wanted him to stay, use the age old it’s late excuse for a few more hours where he was close to you. His apartment was across the hall, and asking him to stay would be silly. You watched him head out the door, turning around to give you one more look and answer your question.

“Yeah I promise.”

***

This entire thing had gotten out of hand, and Rose and Mat’s relationship was becoming a chore. You had stopped them from killing each other twice in the past week, texting Anthony almost exact directions on how Mat was going to fix whatever stupid he said. Mat didn’t know, or maybe he did and he didn’t care to say anything about how with your help his relationship with Rose would be over before it started. Now, you were hiking across the city for flowers so Mat could apologize to Rose for forgetting her mother’s name as if she didn’t talk about her family constantly. You finally got them to Mat’s wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead when a text came that rocked your world.

I think I love Mat, he literally had these delivered after I got mad at him.

Attached was a picture of the flowers, and a guilty feeling churned in your stomach while you made your way back to your place. You stopped in the hallway, looking at Anthony’s door biting your lip and thinking about what the consequences of this all really was - and it was eating at you.

You were fucked, completely and utterly fucked. It seemed wrong, like everything in your best friend’s love life was a lie you created because it was. So you panicked, and snuck away to Anthony’s without a second thought. You knocked twice, a sleepy hockey player appearing on the other side. 

“Rose is in love with Mat,” You state, pushing Anthony into his own place and walking past him.

“Isn’t that what we wanted?” Anthony asks, watching you pace through his apartment.

“It’s not real, everything Mat knows about Rose is because you told him,” You explain, stopping in the middle of the room, “We planned their dates, we did everything, and when they realize they might not as much in common as they think Rose is going to be heartbroken and-”

“So, you got what you wanted? She’s always over there,” Anthony counters back, not mentioning the hot streak his teammate was on.

“You don’t see anything with this?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows at the man you thought you knew in front of you, “That your friend is going to be with someone when their relationship is built on a lie.”

“You act like he’s going to marry her,” Anthony groans, not even realizing until after the words left his mouth about how awful that sounded. Your jaw had dropped, your eyes wide while you look at Anthony, “Wait Y/N-”

“I’m telling them the truth,” You say, a stoic robotic tone to your voice. You thought about telling Rose just minutes before you left your place, but you stopped yourself before you ratted out your friend. Now, it seemed like it didn’t matter. Anthony was going to be a selfish asshole regardless of what you did and you weren’t going to let that sham of a relationship continue, “I shouldn’t have listened to your stupid idea to begin with.”

***

You walked out of Anthony’s life after that, and in the week that’s passed since, he was miserable. He didn’t know what you told Rose, but he definitely heard the arguing you were having with her from across the hall. He knew he should have stepped in, but the way you looked at him when you left was the only reason he didn’t. You looked at him with such disdain, like the mere indication that he didn’t care about his own friend’s feelings were the most awful thing he could have done.

Maybe it was, either way the guilt was eating Anthony alive. He called, but you never picked up. He texted you, using some dumb excuse about needing to grab a package outside his door while he on a road trip but an answer never came. Hell, he even tried to email you. The only thing left to do was walk across the hall and knock on your door, if you were even still there.

“Dude you’re doing it again,” Mat says, tossing a chip at his teammate and catching Anthony’s attention, “Just go over there and apologize.”

“Did you apologize to Rose?” Anthony huffs, annoyed with Mat’s attempt at giving him any advice.

“I didn’t have to because this was your fault,” Mat explains, reminding Anthony of exactly what happened after you left his place. You told Rose everything, and after what Anthony heard as a nasty fight - Rose and Mat spilt up once they realize they actually had nothing in common, “And fuck you dude because I still apologized to Rose after that.”

“Fine, I’ll go over,” Anthony budges, stomping out of his own place and across the hall to yours. He knocked twice, hearing some shuffling on the other end. The door finally clicked open, and when Anthony was met with Rose’s face, his shoulders slumped.

“She’s not here,” Rose leans against the doorway, her arms crossed at Anthony, “We’re, uh, taking some time away from each other.”

“This wasn’t Y/N’s fault it was mine,” Anthony rushes to explain, the reality of ruining someone's friendship settling in.

“I know it was,” Rose assures him, because she’d forgiven you just three days after you told her the truth. That wasn’t enough for you to come home, because your own guilt was eating you alive, “She feels too bad, and she doesn’t want to see you.”

That was it, Rose’s words were enough to have reality really settle in. Anthony Beauvillier was a massive asshole, and the reason you weren’t back in your own apartment. He did that. He was going to have to live with that guilt. And he didn’t know how to fix it.

***

It had been a month.

You didn’t know why you knew exactly how many days it’s been since you stomped out of Anthony’s apartment and into your own to tell the truth. But, you did know that exactly thirty days prior that’s just what you did. You told Rose everything, from the stupid plan to your own stupid feelings that seemed to

cloud your judgement. She was upset, and she had every right to be. You knew that she could have kicked you out of the apartment and told you to fuck off, and she did. Three days later, a much calmer Rose was on the phone telling you everything was fine and you could come back home.

You didn’t want to, because you knew Anthony was across the hall living his life just the way he had been before you stepped into it. He was going to go out on dates with girls that weren’t you, and go off on road trips for games he needed to play. He could set Mat up with someone else if he really wanted to, but none of those things would ever involve you again. You packed your stuff, and moved into a new place after couch surfing by a few of your friend’s places.

“You’re depressed,” Rose kicks your leg from the other side of your new couch, a movie night to celebrate your new place was in full effect, “I told you I’m not mad about the Mat thing.”

“I know,” You sigh, staring at the glass of fruity pink wine Rose had brought over, “I just-”

“You miss him,” Rose muses, a knowing look on her face, “It was never about Mat and I, it was always using us as an excuse to see each other.”

“It was about you guys at first,” You defend, staring at the blonde across from you who was looking at you intensely.

“He came and looked for you, after a week,” Rose says, holding onto the tidbit of information she’d been saving for almost a month, “I think he wanted to apologize.”

“Well he didn’t so it doesn’t matter anymore,” You snap back, Rose melting back into the couch to avoid being the next stop on your rage tour. You didn’t want to care about Anthony or his stupid biceps again, but you never stopped thinking about him.

***

Anthony wasn’t doing much better, in fact, he was doing a whole lot worse. He felt like shit, he was playing like shit, and he seemed just like Mat was when he came up with that stupid plan. He tried to throw himself into hockey, push his body where it had never gone before because then he wouldn’t have to think about you. He wouldn’t have to think about how much of a romantic you were or how you helped with even if he didn’t deserve. Most importantly, he wouldn’t have to think about how heartbroken you looked when he told you he didn’t want to come clean because it didn’t matter.

Anthony was doing the same thing he’d been doing all month, stalking your social media profiles in an attempt to see if you were doing okay. He knew you moved, and if he wasn’t on the West Coast maybe he would have stopped you. A text from Mat came in, one that had him rolling his eyes.

My rooftop in twenty it’s an emergency.

***

What Anthony didn’t know was that the same text was sent from Rose’s phone to yours just a few minutes prior. You rushed over Mat’s, absolutely terrified about what you could have been walking into. Except, when you got up to the roof there was nothing. No Mat. No Rose. Just yourself and-

“Fuck,” Anthony whispers, opening the rooftop door to reveal you on the otherside. It was just you, standing there just as confused as he was by the cryptic text from his teammate, “Uh Mat texted me to come?”

A grin threatens to break out on your face, just as the gears were starting to shift in Anthony’s. You were being set up, of course not as well as you would have planned, but it was a set up nonetheless.

“You know what they’re doing right?” You ask, breaking the silence. Anthony just nods, running a hand over his face without saying a word, “I’m going to go-”

“No,” Anthony rushes out, grabbing your arm and intertwining his fingers with yours, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry? You made me cry for weeks and almost blew up my longest friendship and all you have to say is sorry?” You questioned him, waiting for Anthony to come up with something better than that.

“What do you want me to say? That I didn’t want to stop doing this because I didn’t want to stop hanging out with you?” Anthony exclaims, “Because that’s the truth. I was being a selfish asshole, and I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I feel awful for what I did to you. I was so scared to come and apologize because you have every right to tell me to go fuck myself and never speak to me again. The problem is, I want to talk to you. I want to listen to you talk about why you were a hopeless romantic, and take you home after you drank too much at a work thing. I-”

Anthony couldn’t finish his rant, because you pressed your lips against his before he had the chance. His hands were on your face, pulling you as closely as he could because he needed this kiss to show you that he wanted you. You finally pulled away, breathless while Anthony’s hands snuck down to your waist. His forehead was against yours, your noses bumping together while he whispered his next words.

“We’re not telling Mat this worked.”

“Oh definitely not, no more set ups?”

“Unless it’s me setting up our first date, consider it a promise.”

[puckinghell]

Acts Of Service | Elias Pettersson

Summary: When people have different love languages, sometimes it’s hard to understand what the other is trying to say. 4 times Elias shows you he loves you, and the 1 time you tell him.  Words: 7.5k (whoops) Note: This concept was very interesting to explore. Also yes, this entire thing was written because of that one picture of Elias in that blue sweater stepping out of the car like a fucking GQ model. 

----

(Some time ago)

“Didn’t you say there’s an apartment free in your building?” Brock asked as soon as you answered the phone, forgoing the “hello”.

“Hello, Brock, my very good friend, how nice to talk to you! How are you doing?” you deadpanned.

At least he had the decency to sound ashamed. “Ah, yes, hi. Sorry. I’m just in a hurry and it’s important.”

You frowned. “Why? Are you looking to move?”

“No.” Brock laughed. “Stetch would kill me. No, it’s about the rookie. Petey? I told you about him. Swedish, quiet, best fucking hands in the league.”

Yes. Brock had told you about the rookie, although you still thought it dumb to call him that. Brock was basically still a rookie himself.

“What does that have to do with my apartment building?”

“He said no to having a billet family but everyone on the team thinks it’d be good for him to have someone to kinda look out for him a bit. He’s never been to Canada before this, you know, and he’s never lived on his own either. His English isn’t that great and everything is new for him. And since you’re such a caring, loving person, we thought…”

“You thought I could babysit him?” you finished for Brock.

“It’s not babysitting. Just, being friendly if he needs anything. Obviously we’re there for that too, but it’d be nice to have you so close by.”

Close by would be an understatement: the free apartment was across the hall from yours.

You weren’t sure if this sounded like something that you would necessarily want to do, but you did feel a bit sorry for Elias: you’d met him at a team thing earlier that week and he’d looked completely lost in the midst of all the Canadian hockey slang that you barely managed to follow, even after having been friends with Brock for years. He mostly kept to Eagle, spoke in Swedish, and his eyes flickered nervously across the room whenever anyone else approached him.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll talk to my landlord. But you owe me, Blondie.”

Brock was happy enough that he didn’t even call you out on the nickname.

1. 

“Have I told you lately how much of a lifesaver you are?” You lean across your desk, resting your chin in your hands. Elias looks mildly amused as he hands you the papers.

“Nearly every day,” he says, “but then I save your life every day, so that seems fair.”

You grab the papers from his hands.

“You’re a lifesaver and the love of my life, Petey.”

You think back to when Elias just moved into your apartment building, only because Brock thought he needed someone to look after him. You could laugh, now, thinking about how wrong he’d been.

Elias is the most self-sufficient, independent person you know. You don’t think he’s ever needed anything from anyone. Like in hockey, where he can make the play and score the goal all at the same time, Elias has his life together.

Unlike you.

Despite the fact that Elias hadn’t needed much help from you, you had become very fast friends. His quick witted sarcasm always managed to make you laugh and he liked how upfront and honest you were with him about things. It was easy, too, to spend time together. With him living just across the hall, you found yourself wandering to his apartment whenever you were bored, and he showed up at yours often when he didn’t feel like cooking.

Just because he could cook, didn’t mean he always wanted to.

And ever since the two of you had become friends, Elias had your back. When you needed someone to water your plants, or feed your cat Puck – Brock had named him – or, apparently, bring you the important work papers that you forgot at home after having worked on them all weekend.

You groan as you flick through the papers. “I thought I was going to die. Without these I can’t finish my presentation.”

“When is it?” Elias asks, eyes searching behind you. You know he’s looking out for your asshole of a boss, who will use any excuse to yell at you, especially the unannounced visit of a friend.

“Tomorrow. I got all the content in these papers here, but I still have to make the PowerPoint.” You sigh. “It’s still so much work.”

“Oh.” Elias’ face lights up. “Almost forgot. Brought you this.” Triumphantly, he reaches down and comes up with a paper bag from your favorite coffee shop.

The words fall off your lips in a gasp. “You didn’t!”

“Strawberry scone and a large caramel macchiato with soy milk.” Elias grins. “I also got you a chocolate chip cookie for later.”

“Marry me,” you proclaim, as you make grabby hands for the bag. The coffee is precisely what you need and your mouth is already watering at the idea of the food.

“Get me a ring, then,” Elias jokes, as he starts getting up from the chair.

Something tightens in your stomach, so you quickly take a bite of the scone: anything to push those feelings to the side. It works a little, and at the very least it tastes amazing.

You’re just friends. If you were gonna be anything more, Elias would’ve made a move already. Or, if you’d been brave enough, you would’ve: but he’s never said anything to make you think he’s interested and quite frankly, you’re not that brave.

“Thank you,” you say, mouth still full of scone, and Elias wrinkles his nose at that as you knew he would.

“I’m going to the store now,” he says, “anything you want me to pick up for you?”

“Wine?” you ask, hopeful. “I’m gonna need it after today.”

Elias rolls his eyes at you, but when you come home after the most grueling day at work there’s a bottle of rosé sitting in your fridge, next to a bag full of your favorite Thai take out food.

Love you, you quickly text Elias, even though you know he can’t answer because the game is about to start.

You take some time showering and putting on comfortable clothes, then situate yourself on the couch and put on the game. It has already begun, and you know it’s not gonna be an easy one, against the Bruins.

It’s not until the first intermission, when you check your phone, that you see there’s a reply from Elias waiting for you.

It’s just a simple heart emoji, but it makes your heart race anyway.

2.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I can barely hear you.” Fiona’s tone is disapproving, and you pull your mouth away from where you’d pressed it into your arm to scream.

“I said, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

She laughs. “It’s just a car, Y/N.”

You don’t necessarily like your job, but Fiona is one of the reasons you’re still putting up with it. She’s not just a colleague anymore, slowly turning into a friend and someone you confide into about everything – even about your Elias problem – and you love her, but sometimes you could murder her.

“It’s not just a car,” you bite. “It’s my only mode of transportation, because you know how much I hate taking the bus, and it’s broken, and I probably can’t even afford to get it fixed. And now I have to walk home, and it’s raining.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Fiona admits.

After a long day at work, you couldn’t wait to get home and watch The Bachelor until you fell asleep, your cat in your lap. However, when you finally got away from the office and stepped into your car, it was clear the universe had different plans.

It didn’t start.

After trying approximately 15 times, you’d screamed, nearly cried, hit the steering wheel, and then went back inside to scream and cry a little more at Fiona’s desk.

“I just wanna go home, Fi.” You know you sound miserable, but you honestly can’t help it. Taking the bus always heightens your anxiety, so you avoid it at all costs: however, walking home in this pouring rain doesn’t seem like much fun either.

And Fiona can’t even bring you home, because she takes the bus to work like a normal person.

“There’s a simple solution to this, you know,” Fiona says. She starts to organize the papers on her desk, a clear sign that she’s getting ready to leave the office as well. “You could just call…”

“No,” you interrupt her, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. “I can’t call Elias. He’s got the boys over today and I won’t interrupt his fun with my misery. Besides, he does too much for me already, I can’t ask him for more.”

“Right,” Fiona drawls, “but when he hears that you were stuck here and didn’t call him…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Elias would be furious.

One time, you were on a night out when you got a little too tipsy and didn’t realize your phone had died. By the time you noticed, all your friends had already jumped in their respective Ubers, but you had been too busy chatting with some girl you didn’t know to order yours, and now you couldn’t because you didn’t have a phone. 

You knew you could’ve asked any random person to order you an Uber, or at least to borrow their phone to call Elias – it’s not like you didn’t know his number by heart – but that felt like too much. It had been 3 am and he had a game the next day, so you decided to walk home.

When he found out the next day, he got so mad he didn’t talk to you for 4 days. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and just sat on his couch pouting at him until he spoke to you again.

“Something could’ve happened,” he’d muttered, explaining to you why he got mad in the first place. “And I’m your best friend, and you should know me enough to know that I would much rather you wake me up than you walk home alone.”

You did know that, and he was your best friend, and you’d promised him you’d never do it again.

It’s only that promise, that causes you to reach for your phone.

“I’m texting him, but if he’s busy, I’m walking,” you tell Fiona stubbornly. She ignores you, which is probably fair enough.

Hey, you busy right now? Are the guys still there?

The answer comes right away. What’s wrong?

Damn, he knows you too well. You quickly explain the situation and before you know it, Elias is on his way to come get you, and Fiona is bidding you goodbye after you promise her you’re fine on your own for the twenty minutes it’s gonna take Elias to get there.

You’re just checking your email on your phone when you hear the bell at the front door.

“I’m coming!” you call out. You hurry to grab your bags and then walk quickly to the door, where Elias is standing with his car keys between his fingers.

“So Bella finally gave up, huh?” he asks, a sly little smirk on his face. He always teases you with the fact that you named your car.

“Yes, and I know you told me,” you sigh, and it’s clear that he immediately – and correctly – reads your mood.

Without a word, he opens his arms, and you gratefully fall into them, hugging him tightly to your body. There’s very little in the world that brings you more comfort than one of Elias’ hugs: although being on Elias’ couch wearing one of his old hoodies watching some stupid reality show might come close.

“Let’s go home,” Elias finally mumbles, and he holds out an umbrella when he lets you go.

It’s raining really hard, and you know he has to park his car a little bit away because there’s no parking in front of your office, so you take it.

“You could’ve just called, I would’ve ran out,” you tell him sternly, but he shrugs.

“But then how would you have gotten the umbrella?”

You would tell him you’re not made of sugar, but as soon as you step outside the rain clatters loudly against the fabric of the umbrella and you realize you would’ve really, really hated to not have it, so you stay quiet.

Instead, you walk after him as he runs to his car and opens the passenger door for you. It’s still running, and the heater is on: only then do you realize you’re quite cold.

This morning they said it would be nice outside, so you didn’t bother to take a coat.

It’s quiet in the car for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, and combined with the soft music that is playing on the radio it lulls you into a false sense of comfort.

Until you realize something.

“Oh God,” you groan, “I’m gonna have to call someone to tow Bella to a mechanic.”

Elias raises an eyebrow. “Well, you could just leave her there.”

Normally you would’ve at least playfully punched his arm for the sarcastic tone in his voice, but right now you’re too busy freaking out.

“And how am I gonna get to work tomorrow? Don’t you dare say you’ll bring me cause I know you’ve got morning practice and it’s super out of your way. Fuck, why did this have to happen to me?”

You let your head fall against the window. The glass is cold against your cheek and it’s enough to stop the spiraling in your brain at least for a second.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice has lost all sarcastic edge. It’s gentle now, and he’s speaking low as if not to startle you. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll call the tow truck and the mechanic and get your car fixed. And Brock lives close enough that he can take me to and from practice and you can just take my car to work.”

It’s… a reasonable solution, but once again something that Elias has to go out of his way for, even just a little bit, and you feel something warm bloom inside your chest.

“Okay,” you answer, the stress already ebbing away. “Thank you. You’re the best.” You reach out and place your hand on his knee, squeezing slightly. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Elias mumbles something incoherent. You think you see some color on his cheeks, but surely that’s just because the heater is on, because there’s no way he’s blushing over something you said.

You turn off the heater, and let your thoughts wander as Elias drives you home.

3. 

Traveling is fun, but traveling for work is instantly a lot less fun. You really don’t know how Elias does it.

You’re feeling run down and jetlagged when you come back from your work trip, which is ridiculous cause you flew to Toronto, not to freaking Europe. But it’s late at night and the three days you were away were so busy you can barely remember sleeping at all.

Fiona slept on the plane, so she looks a little more alive than you when your feet touch the ground at Vancouver airport.

“Is Elias coming to pick you up?” Fiona asks, as you’re both walking through the gate.

You shake your head. “I’m sure he would’ve insisted if he could, but he’s in California right now. They played the Kings tonight and they’re playing the Sharks the day after tomorrow.”

“I wish I was in California,” Fiona says wistfully. It’s cold and wet in Vancouver and it wasn’t much better in Toronto. The tiredness doesn’t help: it feels as if the cold of the night is slowly creeping into your bones.

“Come on then, I’ll drop you off.” You thank Fiona and follow her to her car. Normally you wouldn’t have minded taking an Uber, but right now you just wanna get to bed as soon as possible.

“If I fall asleep, just let me sleep here,” you mumble, resting your head back against the head rest. Fiona laughs as she starts the car.

“No way, you’ll freeze to death.” She squints outside. “Do you think it’s gonna rain?”

“It always rains,” you say, despite the fact that it’s not raining at the moment.

Fiona turns onto the highway. “So, are you finally gonna put up that bookcase you bought?”

Involuntarily, you groan. “Stop, don’t remind me.”

Your old bookcase is big and ugly, and it has been a thorn in your eye ever since you moved in. The person that lived there before you left it there, and you only kept it because you couldn’t really afford not to.

Four weeks ago, you finally allowed yourself to buy a new, prettier bookcase.

But…

“It’s just so big,” you whine, repeating the excuses you’ve been giving Elias every single time he raises a judgmental eyebrow at the old bookcase still standing in your living room. “It’s gonna take forever to take it apart and then it’s gonna take me even longer to somehow get it all downstairs and get rid of it.”

“And then you have to build the new one,” Fiona nods understandingly. “And you’re not good with furniture.”

“Hey,” you protest, but it’s weak. You’re not good with furniture, which was proven when you tried to help Fiona move in and didn’t manage to help her put together anything at all. Instead she ended up with a table with three legs. 

You even tried to read the manual, but it’s just not your forte.

“I’ll do it,” you add, “I promise you I will. Just, maybe not this weekend…”

Fiona laughs, but she doesn’t call you out on the fact that it probably won’t happen during the week either.

Finally, you arrive at your building. You can’t wait to go to bed, and you thank Fiona multiple times before dragging your luggage upstairs. When you open the door to your apartment, Puck comes running up to you, meowing and weaving between your legs.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you tell the cat sternly. “Petey sent me many pictures of you sleeping in his lap and I know he feeds you chicken when he thinks I won’t notice, so you got spoiled this week.”

You lovingly scratch Puck’s ears, before flicking on the light and kicking the door behind you in the lock.

Instantly, you notice the difference.

Your apartment isn’t big: real estate in Vancouver isn’t cheap and your job isn’t great. You got this place mostly for the location, and you like the big windows in the apartment and how it manages to get in light even during the darkest of winter days.

One corner of your living room, however, was always darker than the others. The bookcase took away the entirety of the white wall, and it created a dim lit, sad looking corner.

Now, it’s open and bright, as your new bookcase stands proudly in its place.

There’s only one person who would’ve done that.

The phone rings a few times, but you know the Kings game ended a while ago so you let it ring. After a while, Elias picks up.

“Sorry for the background noise,” is the first thing he says. “We’re on the plane. Taking off in a few minutes, probably.”

In the background, you hear some yelling. Probably Jake.

“You put up my bookcase,” you blurt out, ignoring Elias’ statement. “You put it up and all the books are in it and the other one is gone.”

Elias sounds a little smug when he answers. “Well, it’s not like you were ever gonna do it.”

“Thank you.” To your own horror, you can feel tears burning behind your eyes. “Elias, seriously…”

“It’s nothing.” You can hear Elias’ smile even over the phone: you know everyone always makes fun of his deadpan tone when he talks to media but with his friends, his voice always betrays everything he’s feeling. “I know you were worried about it, and I know how much you hated that old one.” He laughs. “I get why now, by the way. It took me and Brock like four hours to get that thing out.”

“Brock helped too?”

“He did.” Elias is silent for a while, but in the background you hear another voice. “Brock says to tell you that I forced him. But that’s not entirely true.”

Entirely. You know Elias definitely did force him.

“Tell him thank you too.”

“He says you’re welcome,” Elias says, quick enough that it makes you think Brock didn’t say that at all. “We’re about to take off so I have to put my phone on airplane mode. But call me tomorrow okay? I wanna hear about your work trip.”

“Okay.” For some reason, you can still feel the lump in your throat. You didn’t notice it momentarily, while you were focused on Elias’ and Brock’s bickering, but now it’s back, and with a vengeance.

Fuck. You just…

“I miss you.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself and if anyone would ask, you would blame the exhaustion and the fact that Elias can’t see how wet your eyes are over the phone.

“I’ll be back soon,” he answers softly, and his voice is gentle in a way that makes you think he knows about the tears, anyway. “And when I am, we’re gonna take a whole night to eat food and stare at that bookcase, because it needs to be appreciated after the effort I had to put in to build it.”

You laugh before quietly saying goodbye to Elias and hanging up the phone.

In the kitchen, Puck sits in front of the fridge. When you open it there’s a pan with chicken.

For Puck the note next to it says, and you send Elias a picture of Puck with his chicken.

“He spoils you,” you tell your cat. You decide to ignore the fact that he kinda spoils you, too.

4. 

When you open the door to your apartment, you’re met with the smell of garlic.

After yet another shitty day at work, you can already feel the lump in your throat building again. You didn’t even tell him, this time. In fact, you carefully avoided his texts because you knew he’d clock that something was wrong.

Fuck. That’s probably where you went wrong in the first place; usually you never ignored Elias’ texts.

“Hello?” you call out into your own apartment.

There’s soft music playing and there’s light coming from the living room, but the amazing smell that tickles your senses is clearly coming from the kitchen, so that’s where you go.

Elias is standing at your kitchen counter, chopping a carrot.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling your way. “I’m making dinner.”

It’s almost too much, how domestic it looks. And how right: like he belongs there in your space, waiting for you to come home.

Suddenly there’s the overwhelming urge to go towards him, so you do. His arm immediately lifts, creating space for you in the crook of his body, and you slip under his arm easily.

“How did you know?” you mumble into the fabric of his worn Canucks hoodie. It smells like him, a scent that reminds you of home as much as your mother’s signature dish.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Elias hums. His arm tightens around your body. “So I figured you could use some good food and a bath.” His head motions towards the general direction of the bathroom. “I’m running it as we speak.”

God. You love him.

It hits you, then. You knew you had a crush on him, knew you wanted to kiss him and hold his hand and feel his hands on you. But it’s more than that, now.

It’s the realization that you want to share everything with him. The ups and the downs. The bad nights and the bright mornings. You want him in your kitchen, but more than that, you want it to be his kitchen, too.

Fuck. You’re so royally screwed.

Because he does this, and he does so much for you, but he’s never said anything, anything at all, to indicate that he wants that. Or has even considered it, thought about it.

Maybe it’s never even crossed his mind. Maybe he takes care of you like he would take care of a sister.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice is gentle as it pulls you out of your thoughts, back down to earth. “You’re shaking. Go take a bath, and I’ll finish dinner, and then we’ll watch How I Met Your Mother. I wanted to watch the next episode but I waited for you.” His grin is a little lopsided. “Isn’t that chivalrous of me?”

It is, and normally you would tease him for it, but you can’t really think or speak, so you just nod.

“There’s wine in the fridge, if you want a glass,” Elias says. He holds out a wine glass, already waiting for you on the counter.

And who cares that it’s only a Tuesday: you deserve it, damn it, so you open the fridge to find the wine.

You’re met with more than just that.

“You bought groceries?” you ask, your eyes traveling through your fridge. You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in like a week, and when you left for work this morning the fridge was basically empty. Now it’s so full you wonder how you’re gonna close the door.

“How else was I gonna cook anything? You only had cat food left,” Elias tuts. You’re not surprised to find Puck at Elias’ feet, waiting for him to inevitably slip him some human food.

“Did you get…”

“Your coconut yoghurt? Yes.”

He did, and he got basically all your staples, and nothing you wouldn’t buy yourself.

“Honestly,” you say, as you finally reach for the bottle and pull your head out of the fridge. “I don’t know what to say, Petey. Thank you. I had such a sucky day and now it’s already endlessly better.”

This time you know you’re not imagining the flush on Elias’ cheeks.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You should go take that bath before it goes cold.”

You want to say more: to tell him time and time again how amazing he is, how much he means to you, how thankful you are. But you know once you start, you can’t be trusted to not say the one thing you don’t think he wants to hear.

So you say nothing, and simply go to take your bath.

+1

But you think about it.

You think about it all throughout Christmas, where you don’t see Elias at all. You think about it during NYE, when you get a drunk SnapChat from Elias with his brother, right at midnight.

At least, you figure, he’s not kissing any girls.

You’re not kissing any boys, either. You’re at a NYE party with Fiona and it’s fun, it is, but it’s not the same as it would be if Elias wasn’t all the way in Sweden.

You miss him like a limb, and you know it’s not fair because he rarely gets time to go home to Sweden and he deserves that time with his family, but you can’t say you didn’t wish his time off ended already.

When it finally does, it’s not Elias you see first. Troy is throwing a late New Years party, just to welcome everyone back to Vancouver as they get ready to start the season back up, and when you arrive at his house it’s early enough in the evening that there’s only a handful of people there.

“Y/N!” Brock calls out, opening his arms to give you a big hug as you enter. “Missed you!”

You laugh. “Get off of me, you giant. I’m gonna drop the wine.”

“Not the wine,” Troy says dramatically, tearing it out of your hands. His eyes are sparkling when he thanks and hugs you, and then Brock is ushering you into the living room, where Jake is talking with Quinn.

Or talking at Quinn. To be honest, you never really know when Quinn is paying attention.

“Y/N!” Jake exclaims, much like Brock had. “I’m glad you’re here, we need your input on something.”

“Okay?” you ask, curiosity instantly taking over. Whenever Jake and Brock get together, it promises to be an interesting evening.

“We’re trying to decide Brock’s love language.”

It’s sudden enough that you laugh. “His what?”

“Love language,” Jake explains. “Like, how he shows people he loves them. He says it’s quality time, but I think it could be physical touch. He’s always touching people.”

“Jake is deflecting because his love language is physical touch,” Brock scowls. “I think I know my own love language, Tuna.”

“Hold on.” Unfortunately, you have to press the pause button on their discussion. “What options do we have?”

You’ve got no idea where they got this from, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re always down to share your opinion on stupid stuff with your favorite boys.

“There’s gifts, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, and…” Brock pauses, and you can nearly see the wheels in his head turning.

“Acts of service,” Quinn offers, which proves that he was actually paying attention.

“Mine is physical touch,” Jake says determinedly. “When I care about someone, I always wanna be touching them, and when I’m in love with someone that’s like twenty times worse.”

“Poor girl,” Quinn mutters, and the conversation gets paused in order for Jake to put Quinn in a headlock.

“I think yours is quality time, actually,” you tell Brock when Jake is done murdering the rookie. “Your ex was always on her phone during your date nights and I remember it drove you crazy.”

“See,” Brock says proudly. “Quality time baby. If I’m there I’m there.”

“What about yours, Huggy?” Jake asks. “Physical touch would make sense, since you’re called Huggy.”

“I’m not called Huggy,” Quinn deadpans. His face is devoid of any emotion, but you know him well enough to recognize the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He reminds you of Elias, when he does that. “And if we were going by nicknames your love language would be fishing.”

Everyone cracks up on that, and then the doorbell rings and Bo arrives.

The topic gets put on hold, then, because Bo is instantly talking about Gunnar’s first Christmas and Brock is talking about becoming an uncle again and you feel warm and happy on the couch with your wine, squeezed between Brock and Troy.

Until, a little later, you realize someone is missing.

“Where’s Petey?” you ask Troy. “Isn’t he coming?”

Troy shrugs. “Should do. But you never know with Pete.”

It’s not entirely true: if Elias promises he’ll be there, he will be there. But, to be fair, he usually doesn’t promise that to anyone but you, and you hadn’t asked him to come, this time.

You figured he just would.

“What about Petey’s love language?” Brock asks idly, not knowing he’s opening Pandora’s box for you. “Definitely not words of affirmation, huh.”

Troy laughs.

“Nah, Petey’s an acts of service guy. He’s always doing shit for Y/N.”

You would protest if you trusted your voice not to shake. As it is, you stay quiet and hope the flush on your cheeks gets mistaken for a wine flush, and not an Elias flush.

Brock brightens. “Oh, yeah! Getting her car fixed, making dinner, building her stupid bookshelf, feeding her cat… He is a typical acts of service guy.” He bumps against your shoulder playfully. “I hope you appreciate his showing of love, Y/N. He rarely does that shit for me.”

Troy snorts. “That’s cause he’s not in love with you, Boes.”

“He’s not in love with me either!” you squeak, unable to stay quiet any longer. You know if you don’t derail this trail of thought very soon, it’s gonna end badly for you.

Both Troy and Brock look unimpressed, at that statement.

“Yes, he is,” Brock says slowly, as if explaining something to an unruly child. “He drops whatever he has going on to do small things that make your life easier. That’s literally the same as him screaming I’m in love with you from the highest rooftop in Vancouver.”

“He’s not like you,” Troy continues, a little more gentle. “When people have different love languages, they don’t always understand what the other is trying to say. Your love language is words of affirmation. You’re always telling Petey how amazing he is. But he doesn’t see that as a declaration of love, or whatever. He thinks you tell everyone that they’re amazing.”

You do, to be fair, but not as often as you tell Elias. Because he’s…

Well. Amazing would be an understatement, actually. He’s everything to you.  

Things are starting to make sense, like puzzle pieces fitting into place. Suddenly, you start wondering if there’s more to his acts of service than plain friendship, or him being a good guy.

It’s not like he does stuff like that for all his friends. He helps them out, sure, but he always goes above and beyond for you, usually not even needing to be asked.

But he’s not in love with you, surely? He hasn’t said anything…

But maybe words aren’t his thing. Not like they are yours: the way you can’t stop yourself from gushing into Elias’ ear even when you know you should stop.

What if Brock and Troy are right?

You don’t get much time to think it through, because that’s when Elias finally appears in Troy’s living room, looking endlessly cool in his blue sweater, wearing his glasses. He’s sending death glares at Jake, who wolf whistles from the corner, but then his eyes meet yours and they soften.

“Hi there,” he smiles, reaching out to you. You immediately jump up and launch yourself at him, any previous conversation about the two of you momentarily forgotten as you curl your body into his, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Missed you,” you hum into his shoulder, and you’re rewarded with a grin you can feel against the skin of your neck.

“Are you sure hers isn’t physical touch?” you hear Brock ponder, and you would flip him off if you could be bothered.

You can’t. All you can be bothered doing is plastering yourself to Elias’ side and not leaving him alone even for a second, the rest of the night.

It works at least for a while, until he asks: “Do you want another drink?”

“I’ll go with you,” you say, not willing to part with him yet, and you ignore the knowing look Brock shoots you as the two of you find your way to the kitchen.

Elias immediately goes for the wine, because he knows you better than anyone else.

“I asked my dad about the job,” Elias mentions casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all. “He thinks he can get you an interview.”

“Wait, what?”

Suddenly your heart is ticking in your throat. Before he left for Sweden, Elias had mentioned that his dad knows a guy who works for a similar company as you’re working for now: apart from the shitty boss you have or the ridiculous low salary you get paid. It’s your job, but better, and Elias promised you he’d get his dad to ask if there were any open positions.

There were. And you sent in your application not thinking there was gonna come much from it, but now…

Something warm washes through your chest, like your heart grew three sizes. Of course he asked, of course he made it happen. Looking out for you, always and at any time, from any distance.

“It’s not a done deal,” Elias warns, oblivious to your mental breakdown. “But he said he thinks they’ll like you and he’ll put in a good word for you.”

You squeal and throw yourself in his direction once again. Elias laughs as he catches you, fingers curling in your hair where your face is pressed against his chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“It’s about time you get rid of that dumb job.” You can hear the frown in Elias’ voice. “They don’t take good care of you at all, it’s not good for you.” The distaste is obvious and it’s adorable. You pull away.

“I don’t need them to,” you say, carefully. You can still hear Brock’s words in your voice, and you figure it’s worth a try, probably. “Because you’re always there to take care of me.”

Elias’ cheeks darken substantially.

“I mean it when I say I don’t know what I’d do without you, Elias.”

“You’d be fine,” Elias waves away the compliment as you figured he would. But this time you’re not backing down.

“Maybe I would be. But I wouldn’t be as happy.”

They say when you really love a person, you’ve got to show them. But you’ve never really known how to do that, instead you always use your words to tell them. But it seems like Elias isn’t believing you, not even now.

And you’ve got to fix that.

It’s not until you’re in Elias’ car on the way back home that you bring it up again. The party wasn’t really the time and place, but the conversation with Brock and the guys has been nagging in the back of your mind since it happened.

If you didn’t realize Elias’ acts of service meant something, maybe he doesn’t realize your words of affirmation mean something. And even if it doesn’t mean he’s in love with you – you’re really not that sure about that – you need him to at least know how much you appreciate him.

“You know I’m always there for you, right?” you start, carefully breaking the silence in the car. Elias shoots you a glance from behind the steering wheel.

“What?”

“Like, even if I’m maybe not as good as you are at realizing what you need me to do, if there’s ever anything I can do to help make your life a little easier or better I wanna do it. I’d do anything for you.”

It’s too honest, probably, and too much all at the same time. But Elias doesn’t look that surprised. In fact, there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You make my life better by just being you, Y/N. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wonder how you’re gonna get through this conversation. But it’s one that needs to be held, so you press on.

“What is your love language, Elias?”

Now he frowns. “Have you been talking to Brock?”

Of course Brock talked to Elias before he talked to you. The traitor.

You decide to ignore that, for now. You’ll talk to Brock later.

“You know my love language is words of affirmation, right?”

Elias shrugs. “Brock did say that, but I didn’t know what you thought it was.”

“And yours is acts of service,” you hazard a guess. You keep your eyes firmly on Elias’ face, which is the only reason you catch the slight change in his expression.

Like a wall, crossing over his features. He’s trying to protect himself, although you have no idea why. Does he not get where you’re going with this?

“I can tune it down if you want me to,” he says, a little grumpily. He’s staring straight ahead at the road, stubbornly refusing to look your way.

And oh God, he’s truly not getting it, and this is going the exact opposite way you want it to go.

Troy did say that when people’s love languages don’t match, they don’t understand what the other is trying to say. But you honestly don’t know how you can make it any more clear to Elias.

Well, except…

“I love you,” you blurt out. “Like, in love with you love you.”

The words ring loudly in the quiet car. For a second, nothing about Elias’ expression, almost like he didn’t hear you. You can almost feel your heart sink into your stomach.

Then, he pulls over the car.

It comes to a stop at the side of the road, two wheels on the pavement and two still on the road. It is, objectively, not super safe, but it’s also 3am and there’s no other cars to be seen. Very carefully, without looking at you still, Elias turns on the hazard lights.

And then finally, finally, he turns to you and kisses you.

You weren’t expecting it but it doesn’t really matter: it’s like your heart and head both light on fire, and everything outside of the car simply disappears. It’s just you and Elias, and his lips on yours and his hands on your body.

It feels right. Like it was always meant to end up like this.

After what feels like ages, he pulls away. He’s smiling, and his eyes are bright blue in the dark car.

“I thought you said those kinda things to everyone,” he admits, quietly. His thumb is rubbing your side, his eyes fixed on that spot. Almost as if he can’t really believe he’s allowed to do that.

You don’t want him to ever do anything else.

“I thought you did those kinda things for everyone,” you shoot back.

Elias raises one eyebrow. “That bookcase weighed at least 300 pounds.”

You can’t help it: giggles are escaping your lips and suddenly you’re both laughing. The tension in the car dissipates instantly, and suddenly it’s just Elias again, your best friend.

Your best friend that you’re now allowed to kiss. So you lean in and press your lips against his again.

After all, kissing is a love language you think everyone understands.

(+2)

“I’m home!” Elias’ voice sounds through the empty apartment, and you immediately leave your spot behind the kitchen counter to run into the hallway.

With a squeal, you fly towards him, and he catches you easily as you knew he would.

“Hey, babe,” he laughs quietly, pressing a kiss into your hair before returning the hug fully. “Is that my sweater?”

“Maybe,” you admit, as Elias’ hands make their way under his own blue sweater, that you definitely steal from him most evenings. “Missed you. And I’m very proud of you.”

“I missed you too,” he answers. “Watched the game?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes, even though you know he can’t see it with your face still buried in his shoulder. “A hat trick, huh? I think that needs to be celebrated.”

“Oh?” Elias pulls away then, one eyebrow raised and a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

“Not like that,” you scold him, lightly punching his arm. “Or, maybe like that. But first, I made Kalops.”

At the mention of his favorite Swedish food, Elias’ face lights up. A while ago, you asked his mom for her recipe and it’s one of the only Swedish dishes you can make, but you make it well.

“Also,” you continue, as you take his hand and start leading him towards the kitchen, so he can sit at the counter while you cook as he always does, “I called the electrician so the TV is already fixed. I know you could have done it, but I decided I’d much rather use that time to hang out with you. I took Puck to get his shots at the vet and I also used my free afternoon to take your car through the car wash.”

When you reach the kitchen, you twirl around towards Elias and his arms immediately circle around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, taking the opportunity to kiss you once more. “But thank you. I love that you took the time to take care of that for me. And I love you.”

“Look at us,” you tease, lightly tugging at the ends of Elias’ hair. “Speaking each other’s love language like that.”

“Perfect couple,” Elias agrees, and you smile back at him.

Somehow, you and Elias managed to create a language of your own: one that you could speak with nobody else. But luckily, you don’t have to.

Cause he came home to your shared apartment like he always does, and well. That’s the biggest act of service he could do for you.  

[princessphilly]

Word count: 5627

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CW: angst, meeting the family, references to the n-word, people sucking

I decided to go ahead and finish it when I got a sudden burst of creativity when I came home.

*

Nina snuggled in bed, a happy little sigh leaving her lips. Sidney looked at her, a fond smile on his face. It had been a month since they were back together and life was almost perfect. Well, they were 6-3-2, 14 points earned which was okay but not where Sidney wanted the team to be. It was still early in the season, it was mid-November so there was plenty of time to right the ship. He and the boys would fix it. Sidney sighed before attempting to try to go back to sleep. However, he heard the sound of a door opening and he sat up, pushing the covers down inadvertently. 

Sidney racked his brain. It was Sunday, Marta, his housekeeper’s day off. Mario or Nathalie would have called before coming over. He had no idea who the hell it could be. “Fuck,” Sidney breathed. There were only two people who would do a surprise visit and one of them was a week earlier for the Moms trip. 

Lightly brushing his fingers over Nina’s side, Sidney urged, “Pretty girl, wake up.”

It was roughly 8am so it wasn’t hard to get Nina, an early riser by nature to wake up. “Urgh, mawning,” Nina mumbled as she cracked open her eyes. Sidney looked anxious and agitated which made Nina focus. 

Sidney opened his mouth, then closed it. If he was right, he was fucked and his pretty girl was probably going to run away screaming. He finally said, “Um, someone just opened the door and there are exactly five people other than me who have a key. There are two who’d do a surprise visit.”

Looking down, Nina was thankful that she had on one of Sidney’s shirts and shorts while sleeping. “Well, fuck, at least I’m not naked,” she said pointedly. Sidney had the grace to blush as Nina continued, “If it’s what you think it is, you need to get that under control,” pointing at his rather obvious morning wood. Sidney pulled the covers back over himself and Nina

Then a voice called out, “Morming, Sid!”

Sidney sighed in relief. It was Taylor, not his mom. Nina noticed it and arched an eyebrow. “Eh, it’s my sister, pretty girl.”

“Shit,” Nina fretted. This was going to be awkward, she didn’t even know if she wanted to meet his family but now, she was going to,have to. At least it was a sister.

The door creaked open and a blonde-haired head peeked in. “Boo,” Taylor said. Then her eyes perked when she saw who Sidney was with. 

Nina groaned. Her hair was in a scarf, it was obvious she slept over and fuck, fuck, fuck. A devious smile spread on Taylor’s face. “Nice to see that you finally let a girlfriend sleep in your room, Sidney.”

“Shut the fuck up, Taylor,” Sidney yelled as his little sister giggled before closing the door.

Nina facepalmed. “That was fun. Fun fun fun.”

Rolling onto her front, Nina mumbled, “I’m not ready to meet your family.”

“I’ve already met yours,” Sidney reasoned. 

“That was because Yanni was part of your Lil Penguins program. That was work related for you, doesn’t count.”

Trailing his fingers down Nina’s back, Sidney replied, “True but, it still counts. What are you doing next weekend?”

“I’m going to be in Philly for a wedding.”

Nina turned onto her left side, facing Sidney. Sidney sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go. “Don’t get any ideas.”

She slipped off the bed, pulling the scarf off her braids, letting them fall down her back. Rummaging through her clothes on the floor, Nina pulled out her bra. Pulling her shirt off, she put it on to the sound of Sidney’s groans. Nina rolled her eyes. “I’m stuck having to meet your sister because she decided to give you a surprise visit. I’m not meeting her without wearing a bra.”

“But you look so amazing without one,” Sidney replied. 

 Nina shook her head before leaving his bedroom. Making her way to the kitchen, Nina literally bumped into Taylor. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Nina gasped. 

“I’m okay,” Taylor reassured Nina, taking the moment to check out this girl that Sidney was now seeing. She wasn’t exactly what Taylor was expecting but one thing that Taylor liked about Nina was that she had kind eyes. Taylor had heard about her over the years, especially that Nina had kept rejecting Sidney. Her brother rarely heard the word no so that made Nina intriguing to her. 

Taylor offered, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No, and I’m hungry.”

Opening the fridge, Taylor took out the ingredients to make omelets. Nina sat at the island, a pensive look on her face. “You know, I totally didn’t expect to meet you this way. This is awkward as fuck.”

“Eh, don’t feel bad, I should have given Sid a heads up,” Taylor replied. “Plus, I’ve heard about you over the years.”

“Oh really?”

Taylor laughed as she cracked eggs. “Sidney couldn’t shut up about you. First it was he met this nice girl at work. Then, it was that you kept telling him no and he was confused. Later, he was beating himself up because he managed to fuck up before he could even ask you out. I really enjoyed that, I liked that you kept not only telling him no but when he pissed you off, you didn’t forgive him right away. I love my brother but his ego needs to get cut down sometimes.”

“True, he has a huge ego. He needs to take himself less seriously,” Nina concurred. “But it’s probably impossible to get him to do that.”

Taylor shrugged, pursing her lips. “At least he means well,” Nina added. 

Nodding, Taylor replied, “He does mean well, most of the time.”

“Already ganging up on me?”

They both laughed as Sidney entered the kitchen. “Why are you here, Taylor?”

“I went on a camping trip and I decided to be nosy and visit my big brother before heading home,” Taylor chirped. “The look on your face was worth it.”

“Hahaha. Should’ve called,” Sidney grumbled. 

Taylor quipped, “Oh, did I ruin your morning sex plans? I’m so sorry.”

Nina snorted as she laughed. Sidney gave her hurt eyes and Nina blew him a kiss. 

“Don’t worry Sid, I’m not staying long. Just enough to rest and then get back on the road,” Taylor said. 

“You drove,” Nina asked. Sidney was now standing right behind her and she could feel his hands massaging her shoulders. 

Taylor nodded as she flipped the first omelet. “You’re not what I expected, Nina. You’re way too pretty for a hockey player like my brother.”

Sidney wanted to kill his little sister as she continued to chirp him. Well, not only chirp him but ruin his planned lazy morning sex. But as he watched his sister and Nina interact playfully, Sidney could admit there was a slight good point. Taylor and Nina were hitting it off and Sidney knew that Nina would meet his family soon. This was a good sign. 

**

However, after practice four days later, Sidney was wishing his sister had never stopped by. Nina had been incredibly busy all week and Sidney knew he wouldn’t see her until next week due to her trip out of town. He was feeling extra irritable and hearing his name over the tv didn’t help. 

“So, two weeks ago, Sidney Crosby admitted that he was having relationship issues that were affecting him on the ice.”

Tanger went to change the channel on the tv in the lounge, muttering, “Fucking ESPN.”

“Shh, keep it on,” Sidney urged, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted to see what kind of bullshit ESPN was saying now.

A couple of the guys stopped to check out the TV. Kevin Neghandi laughed as he responded, “Yeah, he admitted that after breaking a slump. Ever since, he’s been on a 2 point-per-game streak. But this really isn’t about him.”

“Huh,” said Geno, scratching his head.

Buccigross continued, “There was a picture of Crosby and his girlfriend posted on the internet, a nice picture. Someone posted it and made a derogatory statement about his girlfriend, Nina Jackson. This player is a player for Clemson.”

Neghandi laughed again. “Ms. Jackson has a younger brother named Jason Jackson. He was also the number 20 prospect, number 1, 5 star tight end. He also now plays for UNC.”

Sidney chuckled as he realized exactly where this was going. The guy on the tv continued, “Clemson and UNC had the rare Thursday night game last night. #1 Clemson went to the Tar Heels, ranked #22 and got spanked, 56-30. Jason Jackson had 10 catches, 200 yards receiving, and 3 TDs. His response in the postgame.”

The tv showed a clip of Jason talking to the media. A reporter asked, “What inspired you to have such a big game tonight.”

“Lowell decided he needed to talk about my sister on the gram so I had to put him in his place,” Jason drawled.

Sidney’s phone buzzed and it was a message from Nina. my brother is so dramatic 🙄

Nice to know he’ll always have your back, Sidney sent Nina. 

**

Nina smiled happily as she looked at the Thai food on plate. She was so hungry and excited to see Jamila face to face in person for lunch. Her friend looked more vibrant than usual, as life was treating her good. They made small talk until Jamila said, “I heard something about you, that you aren’t single for the first time in forever.”

“Oh really?”

Jamila looked at her best friend. “You’re dating Mayo boy.”

“What?!?” Perplexed, Nina stared at Jamila while Jamila rolled her eyes. 

“Sidney Crosby is like Mayo. Super white. Damn, my dating habits really did rub off on you. Welcome to being a basic bitch like me.”

It was Nina’s turn to roll her eyes. “Stop being so fucking dramatic, Jamila Brown.”

“I was an actress, I’m supposed to be dramatic. Tell Mayo boy if he ever breaks your heart, I’ll kill and cremate whatever’s left of him after your father and brother are finished with him.”

“Are you really gonna nickname him that?”

Jamila smirked at Nina and Nina sighed. Shrugging elegantly, Jamila replied, “I’m a part of Philly sports Twitter. I got lots of other names I could call him.

“Be a bigger bitch, Mila.”

“He gets a better nickname when he lets you fully run his pockets. And don’t give me that look, don’t be afraid of being called a gold digger. They are probably calling you worse names. Make Mayo boy run that card up when he takes you on baecation. Once that happens, I’ll upgrade his nickname.”

Nina sighed as she looked at the menu. Jamila reached out and put her hand out, covering Nina’s menu. “You know I’m just playing, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, let’s talk about Toyin’s wedding instead,” Nina murmured. 

It was Jamila’s turn to sigh. “I’m sorry, Nina. I’m sorry for being a bitch. I shouldn’t be taking out my bad mood on you. I hate men.”

“Not forgiven yet,” Nina snarked. 

Jamila looked pensive as she said, “I like this guy but I don’t want to admit I like him. He’s like too perfect, too nice, well not that nice. He actually gives a fuck.”

“Let me guess, you’re scared and about to do something super stupid,” Nina dryly replied.

Jamila gave Nina a shocked look before she slumped in her chair. “I don’t want to,” she pouted. 

Nina reasoned, “Then don’t. Just ride it out for once.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jamila replied. 

Nina shrugged as her phone buzzed. It was a message from Sid, well really just a picture of him sweaty post-practice. Nina left him on read, she would get him back later for that. “Stop being stupid, and stop self-sabotaging.”

Jamila rolled her eyes as she ate her food. After swallowing, she arched an eyebrow. “Mayo boy sent you a message?”

“Yeah, but I’m focusing on you. I’ll see him next week… and his parents.”

“This is going fast,” Jamila commented. 

Nina bit her lip before saying, “I guess he had to wait eighty-four years, I mean five years, so he’s going to take advantage while they are in town.”

“Interesting.”

Nina pointed out, “At least I’m giving my relationships a chance, unlike you.”

“Fuck you.” 

Jamila gave Nina an exaggerated nasty look as Nina quipped, “I’m strictly dickly, bitch.”

The conversation switched to safer topics. However, throughout the wedding weekend, Nina had the thought in the back of her mind that maybe things were going a bit too fast. 

**

“Well, Taylor says she likes her. I checked out her instagram account and she doesn’t even mention you. Lots of nice vacation pictures though.”

Sidney looked at his mom from across the table. Trina had a pensive look on her face. Troy raised his eyebrows before leaning back in his chair. 

Sidney reasoned, “I want you two to meet her. Give her a chance. Nina is amazing, I’m lucky that she even likes me.”

“Why wouldn’t she like you, you’re Sidney Crosby,” Trina scoffed. 

Sidney shrugged. “Nina’s a PhD student and everything. It hasn’t been easy for her either.”

“Interesting,” Trina said. 

Nina herself was feeling extra nervous. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to meet Sidney’s parents, especially after having to turn in a huge paper and part of her thesis to her advisor. But, as she shook her head and smoothed down her shirt, they were in town and she was going to try to make her best impression.

Midway through dinner, Nina began to wish she was somewhere else on this Friday night. While Troy, Sidney’s dad, seemed nice, it felt like Trina was judging every single thing she did. Every reply Trina made to Nina’s questions was in a dry voice, as if it was boring her. Nina felt a bit discouraged. Sidney obviously loved his parents but it felt like his mother didn’t like her. 

On the other hand, Trina felt like Nina was looking down on them. It seemed like she was mentioning her PhD program, her thesis, like she was too smart for them and her boy. Trina sipped her water as there was a pause. She didn’t know about this girl but at least, every time she looked at Sidney, Trina could see the stars and hearts in her eyes.

Nina looked at Sidney, her palms sweating. She didn’t know what to say as she looked down at her plate. Her appetite was gone. Sidney, himself, didn’t really notice anything as he answered his father’s questions about the beginning of the season. Then Troy turned to Nina. 

“So what do you plan to do now that you’re with Sidney,” Troy casually asked.

Nina replied, “I have about two more years left before I finish earning my PhD. I plan to continue to work and I may teach a class or two.”

“You still plan to work,” Trina asked.

Nina nodded. “Yes. I love what I do and I’m not wasting my degrees.”

“Why do you want to work?”

Nina could tell that Trina intended that question to be light but Nina could still feel the claws. She was tired of this passive-aggressive bullshit and ready to curse her out. But Nina couldn’t so she measured her words carefully. “I did four years of undergrad, three years of school for my doctors in physical therapy, and I will do four more years for my doctorate. Why would I stop working after earning my degrees?”

Trina paused; she had expected some trite, suck-up answer. But it seemed like Nina was serious. “I would think that if you were with my son, you’d rather not work.”

“I’m not built to be a housewife.” Nina laughed. “I love what I do and if I’m expected to stop for Sidney, then maybe I need to reevaluate some things.”

Trina felt like she lost control of this conversation. All she wanted was to see what kind of user her boy’s dream girl was. Now, she had the feeling that her son was going to get dumped and it was going to be her fault.

Sidney laughed. “I don’t expect you to be a housewife. You would be so bored if you were.”

Nina flashed Sidney a quick grin before adding, “Nathalie has let me know the responsibilities though. I’ve done lots of volunteer and charity work over the years so that isn’t new at all. I’m excited about the toy drive, I remember when my parents just got out of the army and cash was tight. I got my favorite doll as a kid from a toy drive.”

“That’s nice,” Trina said. Maybe this Nina girl wasn’t completely stuck up, she thought as the night continued. After a couple of hours, Nina said her goodbyes. It was getting late and she was spending the morning taking her little sister to volleyball practice. After she left, Trina let out a sigh as Sidney turned to her.

“You have to lay off on Nina, Mom.”

Trina turned to look at her son. Sidney was giving her his most serious look and she sighed. 

“I like her but I don’t know if she’s the one for you, Sid. It seems like she’s one step from leaving you,” Trina said. “I don’t see her sticking with you if things go bad.”

“Just because she plans to work?” 

Sidney gave his mother an assessing look. He knew she meant well but this wasn’t for her to decide. “This isn’t your problem.”

“Fine, I like that she has her own life. She’s not obsessed with you and she plans to be her own person,” Trina conceded. “But she’s different.”

He knew this was going to be hard, asking his mom to back off but Sidney knew he had to do it. Nina hadn’t said anything last night but Sidney could sense that she was tired of how his mother was acting. Sidney also knew that if Nina decided to cut ties, it would be completely over. Sidney started, “Compared to Nina, I’m a dumb hockey player. But what I have with her, I’ve never found with anyone else. If you have a problem with that, that’s you. But be civil to Nina.”

“Really, Sidney Patrick Crosby,” Trina said, incredulous. But the look on her son’s face was something she had never seen before. Even though she didn’t believe her son would really pick any woman over her, a voice at the back of her mind told her that if Sidney ever did, this would be the woman he’d pick over her.

**

It was Saturday night and Nina pasted another smile on her face. If Trina got snide again, Nina didn’t know if she could be nice about it. But at least they were in public. As they sat down for dinner, a couple of guys came up. Sidney and his family had perfect PR smiles but the guys stopped in front of Nina.

“Hey, aren’t you Jason Jackson’s sister?”

Nina grinned. “Yes.”

“Why did he have to have such a great game against Pitt today? He killed them,” one of the guys said.

Nina shrugged. “Pitt should play better defense.”

After the guys left, Troy asked, “your brother plays college football?”

“Yup. He was the top prospect in Pennsylvania last season. Games on tv and everything.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sidney murmured.

Nina giggled as she replied, “All you do is eat, sleep, and breathe hockey.”

Sidney blushed as everyone laughed at that statement. However, through the night, more people came by the table to give Nina props for her brother’s monster game than to try to get a glimpse of Sidney. Jason had 184 yards receiving and 2 TDs for UNC today and there was already buzz about Jason being on the fast track to the NFL. During a lull, Trina stated, “You must get asked about your brother a lot.”

“I’m used to it. Once ESPN comes to your brother’s games when he was a sophomore in high school, you have to get used to it,” Nina said with a shrug. “I’m old enough that it really doesn’t bother me.”

“How does your brother deal with it,” Sidney asked, curious as he remembered some of his early experiences with fame. 

Nina replied, “College football is a different beast than the pros. So, he’s on scholarship and his days are pretty much regimented with meetings, practice, classes, more meetings, video study. I ran track when I was in undergrad so my experience was slightly similar. Main difference is that Jase gets paid for his likeness in video games now and a percentage of any jersey sales with his name and number.”

“You ran track,” Troy asked. Unlike his wife, he felt a bit more open towards Nina. It was obvious that she didn’t need Sidney for anything and Troy could see that his son was able to relax in a way with Nina that he hadn’t been able to relax with a woman before. 

“I had a partial scholarship. I ran the 4x100 relay and the 100 meters. I didn’t have the athletic ability to race for a living but I did decent,” Nina stated, feeling a bit shy. It had been a long time since she even talked about her track career. “I was state champ my senior year and my team won silver at the Penn Relays my sophomore and junior years of college. Now, I just run to stay in shape.”

“Wow,” Sidney said, impressed. “Sounds like you loved it though.”

Nina flashed Sidney a grin. “I did, I love running. What most people forget is that you can’t just run for health, you have to run and do strength training and yoga or Pilates.” 

“Have you been to any of your brother’s games,” Troy asked. “Seems like they are doing well.”

Nina replied, “We went to the season opener. I will never go to North Carolina in August ever again if I can help it. I’m going to their game next weekend at Virginia Tech. We’ll probably go to the bowl game since my little sister will be off school that week.”

“Seems like you stay busy,” Trina mused. 

Nina couldn’t help a little glare as she managed to say without malice, “I plan my calendar in advance.”

Trina said, “That sounds good. You have a life outside of everything.”

“And I will continue to have a life outside of everything,” Nina said with a syrup-sweet smile.

**

Nina quietly washed her hands, glancing up to the mirror. Trina was looking down on her hands as she washed hers. Tentatively, Nina asked, “Are you having a good time on this trip?”

“I enjoyed the Moms’ trip,” Trina replied. 

Nina looked down at her hands as she dried them. This was so awkward and she wanted to cry. 

“Sidney Crosby is here, and so are his parents,” somebody exclaimed just outside the ladies bathroom. Trina and Nina both shared a look until another person said, “And his n-word girlfriend is here with them too.”

Nina opened her mouth but Trina put up a finger. The second person continued, “His mom doesn't look too happy with that black girl. Maybe you could get a chance, finally.”

The door opener and the two women came in, laughing. The laughter stopped when those women saw Nina and Trina. 

“You don’t have to worry about getting a chance with my son because there’s no way I’d let him be with someone like you when he’s with a lady like Nina,” Trina stated. 

The two women shared a look but Trina stared them down until they left. Nina let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “No wonder my son is always saying that it hasn’t been easy for you,” Trina offered. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they get kicked out.”

Nina sniffled as she said, “That’s the first time I’ve heard it in person. It’s usually nasty messages online. I really, really hate it. But I guess I’m going to be stuck with this for the rest of my life.”

Impulsively, Trina reached out and grabbed Nina’s hand. “From the way that my son looks at you, nasty women like those will just have to be angry forever.”

Nina giggled as they shared a look. It felt like there was a truce and she was going to take it. After Trina talked to the manager and got those women booted, Nina definitely felt like there was definitely a truce.

**

“Don’t take anything seriously. If they don’t like you, they’ll say absolutely nothing to you. If they make jokes, they like you.”

Two weeks after meeting Sid’s family, it was his turn to meet Nina’s family. The team was home for American Thanksgiving and they didn’t have a game until Friday evening this year. So Sidney was going with Nina to meet her extended family. He was feeling extra nervous and desperate to make a good impression. 

Sidney grimaced as Nina giggled. “Plus, it’s Aryanna’s birthday so they won’t be too mean. I think.”

“Anything else I need to worry about,” Sidney asked. 

Nina reached out over the console and touched Sidney’s hand. “Relax, it’s not a game. You can’t lose.”

“But, I want them-”

Cutting Sidney off, Nina said, “I know, you want them to like you. So be the dork that you are instead of faking like you aren’t a dork.”

Sidney felt a bit insulted but Nina gave him a dazzling smile. “I like it when you’re being dorky, anyway.”

**

Sidney tried hard to follow Nina’s advice. There were so many people that he couldn’t keep them all straight so he focused on making sure he remembered the names of the older people in Nina’s family. There was Mawmaw, the family matriarch, Tracey and Vernon, Nina’s parents, Aunt Tasha who baked the sweet potato pie that he was having his third slice of, Aunt Dee, Uncle Tony, and Uncle Bashir. All of the cousins kinda blurred together but Sidney figured he’d learn their names quickly. 

Overall, he felt like everything was going well. Sidney answered everyone’s questions and he guessed his answers were good since one of Nina’s older cousins told him his new nickname was White Boy. Nina had snickered while some of the younger ones giggled. Right now, Sidney was talking to Aunt Tasha. “What would it take to get you to bake me a pie of my own,” Sidney asked. 

Tasha laughed while Tracey smirked. Tracey interjected, “Oh no, Tasha gonna be bragging about this forever. ‘Guess who came to Thanksgiving and loved my sweet potato pie? Sidney Crosby loved my sweet potato pie.’ She will never shut up!”

“Don’t be mad that you can’t bake a pie as good as me, Tracey,” Tasha chided, laughing. “Nina makes a better pie than both of us but that girl don’t wanna cook.”

Tracey smirked when she saw the look on Sidney’s face. “Oh no, Tash, now this boy gonna be begging my daughter to make him a pie.”

Everyone laughed as Nina was in a different room. Mawmaw chided, “I’m happy that one of my family don’t got to be in the kitchen like that. I wish I could’ve been the same at her age.”

Sidney decided to scroll his phone as the older women began to argue. Then he felt someone tap his shoulder.

“White boy, you wanna play spades?”

Sidney looked at this cousin of Nina. He was sitting at a table with Vernon, one of her aunts, and another cousin. “No,” he replied, shaking his head. 

The cousin got a devious grin on his face. “It’s easy, you should play for Shantara, she can’t play for shit.”

Sidney’s competitive instinct told him it was a bad idea. And from the way Vernon was eyeing him, Sidney knew he was right for shaking his head. “Nope. I’ll learn by watching.”

“Nina’s white boy smart,” Aunt Tasha hollered. “You play spades and renege, boy, someone about to go for those knees.”

“Stop torturing, Sid, Deonte,” Nina scolded as she sat in Sidney’s lap. “At least wait til the second visit before hazing him over spades.”

“I like this boy, Nini. Keep him, he’s betta than that last boy you brought here, bless his heart. Didn’t know how to talk to people,” Mawmaw advised. 

Nina wanted to die as the rest of her family snickered. Holidays: the time of the year where your greatest fuckups get rehashed for shits and giggles. 

Nafis snorted. “What’s his name... it wasn’t that Ron boy, was it? Naw, it was James’s old friend, Jordan. We all knew he wasn’t shit, I mean, nothing, when he made Tommy mad.”

Nina winced as remembered that. Tommy was one of the sweetest guys and hard to rile up, but anyone who could make cousin Tommy mad was a douchebag. 

“Her pets like him. Tess curls in his lap and Steely lets him pet him,” Vernon said. 

Everyone stared at Sidney, eyes wide. Stuttering, Aunt Tasha said, “T-t-that cat and d-dog hate every damn body other than Nini and her family. I be damned.”

Mawmaw laughed.

The rest of the dinner went without incident. But at a quiet moment, Vernon pulled Sidney from the group to a quiet spot in the yard. It was late November in Western Pennsylvania so no one else was there. 

Vernon Jackson had seen more of his fair share of crap in his life. Growing up in Ward 8 of D.C., Vernon had dodged dealers, hustlers, stick-up kids, etc. to survive. His grades weren’t great so Vernon went into the army to ensure that he escaped. Through being deployed in the Gulf War then to Mogadishu, Vernon had done his best to make sure that all his children had more than he did growing up. 

Now, his sweettart, his eldest, his sweet girl, Nina was grown. She had done more than he and Tracey combined. But looking at the man he was sure his daughter was in love with, Vernon began to wonder if he made a mistake. 

Oh, it was obvious that Sidney Crosby was in love with his daughter. But the feelings of love could fade and given his history, Vernon couldn’t trust that Crosby would do the right thing. 

So as a loving father, Vernon pulled Sidney to the side. “I just wanted to ask you something important before I give my blessing to this.”

“Yes, sir,” Sidney responded. 

“You know your children will be considered Black?”

Vernon watched Sidney’s face after asking that question. Lust and infatuation was nice but this was his little girl. The last thing he wanted was his daughter hurt because she fell for someone not just clueless but maliciously clueless about race. 

Sidney quietly replied, “I know. People will see them as Black and will think the worst of them first.”

Not bad, Vernon thought. He expected a colorblind response.

Then he heard Nina call out, “Dad? Sid? We are about to cut the cake!”

Vernon and Sid both grimaced but for different reasons. Vernon because he couldn’t really have cake because of his diabetes, Sid because cake wasn’t on his meal plan. Vernon told Sidney, “before you start making plans for rings, you need to start thinking about how you are going to start speaking up about race. Think about that.”

**

Sidney kept Vernon’s words in his mind through the week. Trina had told him what happened in the bathroom that night but Nina told him that his mom had handled it for her. But as he waited for Nina to open her door, Sidney couldn’t help but think what he could do to avoid situations like that from happening for Nina. But words failed as Nina opened the door and gave him a shy smile. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Sidney drawled as he walked in, closing the door. He hung up his coat on her coat rack before sitting on Nina’s couch.

“I missed you daddy”

“Missed you, pretty girl. Did you have fun?”

Nina straddled Sid’s thigh and replied, “it was a good time even though UNC lost. The VT campus is beautiful. How was the road trip?”

Sid laughed as Nina played with his hair. “It went well but Geno got hurt. He’ll be out for two weeks.”

“That sucks.”

Sidney hummed his assent as he wrapped an arm around Nina’s waist. He missed his pretty girl and it seemed like she missed him too. They sat there together for several quiet moments before Nina whispered, “I really missed you, daddy. It’s been too long.”

Sidney gave Nina a slow smile as she began to grind on his thigh. He felt the same way as he kissed Nina, soft and slow. Then as they broke apart, the sensual haze on Nina’s face turned into horror.  “God damn it,” she muttered. 

Sidney frantically asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just felt my period show up, three days early,” Nina said, rubbing her temples. Her period was cock-blocking her after a couple weeks of no dick and she wanted to die. “I just felt cramps and as much as I’d like to slide to my knees and suck you off, it won’t happen tonight.”

Nina groaned as she closed her eyes, head down. Sidney just started to laugh. 

“Cmon, pretty girl. Let’s just watch movies tonight.”

“Movies sound good,” Nina replied, “I just refuse to watch Friends, ever.”

Sidney giggle-honked as Nina moved from straddling his thigh to curling into his lap. 

[snelbz]

Light Up the Ice - Chapter 11

Summary: Aelin Galathynius has never really been into sports. Yes, she likes to keep in shape, and she works out, but watching people run up and down a field, trying to keep a leather ball away from each other? It’s always seemed a bit childish to her, and decidedly NOT a way for a grown adult to make a living.

Rowan Whitethorn has recently been drafted by the Terresen Staghorns, one of best teams in the EHL (Erilean Hockey League). And since he moved to Terresen from Wendlyn, it’s been hard for him to get more than 30 seconds alone from someone demanding a picture with him. Getting drafted straight out of college wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he’s not complaining. Until he accidentally meets a girl. More specifically, until he accidentally meets his neighbor. She seems to have no idea who he is and for some reason, that’s refreshing. But will she still want to be with him once he shows her the truth?

Light Up the Ice Masterlist

My Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Co-written with @tacmc​.

Warnings: language, smut - this chapter is 18+.

A/N: No tag list this week, still working on how I should tackle that bad boy. But enjoy and look for Chapter 12 later this week!

Rowan was fully aware of Aelin’s hand creeping up his thigh. 

The radio was off and the two remained silent. All that could be heard was Rowan’s shuddering breaths and the intense beating of his heart inside of his chest.

At least, he was fairly sure she could hear it.

Aelin didn’t look at him, but that delicate hand kept slowly moving up and down his thigh atop his trousers. He looked over at her as he sped down the street, back to their apartment building. Her lips were slightly parted, her turquoise eyes wild.

He cursed himself for buying a manual car, that he’d let Fenrys talk him into the fancy, sports car, rather than the reasonable SUV he’d had his sights on. He couldn’t remove his hand from the gear shift, not on the city streets they currently drove on.

He wanted to tease her as they drove, wanted to feel if she was as wet as he hoped she would be. Twice now, she’d had her mouth on him, but he was yet to touch her, yet to explore what it took to make her writhe and gasp and moan.

Tonight, that would change in every way possible.

They had less than a mile to go, but it felt like far more than that. Every second that passed had Rowan nearly about to combust. 

As soon as they pulled into the parking garage and Rowan brought the car to a stop, Aelin was reaching across the car and turning his face towards her, her lips crashing into his. She cupped him through his slacks, and he groaned into her mouth.

The husky chuckle that left her was enough to make Rowan growl, “We need to go upstairs.”

“You aren’t enjoying this?” She breathed, squeezing gently.

The noise that left Rowan was guttural.

“Keep on, be my guest,” he breathed, his lips brushing her ear. “But I’m taking you, one way or another. You decide whether that’s going to be in my backseat or in bed.”

She lifted a brow but made no indication of moving. Instead, her lips found his, yet again, and she was nowhere near gentle. 

Aelin giggled into his mouth as he pulled her over the console and onto his lap, the horn going off as her back brushed the wheel, echoing in the concrete garage.

Rowan just pulled her tighter against him as her knees snuggly settled on both sides of his thighs.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the kisses growing slower and deeper. Aelin’s fingers were gripping Rowan’s shoulders so tightly, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find small, crescent-shaped holes in the fabric when he took his jacket off. It didn’t help that while one hand was pressed firmly to her lower back, keeping her body tightly against his, the other was knitted into her hair, tugging on the strands.

Suddenly, Aelin’s hips jerked and she gasped quietly. She repeated the motion and the hand in her hair lowered to grip her hips, urging her to do it again and again.

Rowan felt like he was sixteen again, dropping Lyria off after a date and trying to get what time in with her he could before curfew befell them both.

But he wasn’t sixteen anymore, and the girl in his lap was not his inexperienced first girlfriend. No, Aelin was a woman, a woman who constantly filled every thought and whose face was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing before bed. 

And there was not enough room in this car to do the things he wanted to do to her.

Pulling his lips from hers, he breathed, “Let’s go upstairs.” She nodded, and he could tell how frantic it was, how erratic her breathing had become. He tilted her chin up, her turquoise-and-gold eyes clouded with lust, and asked, “Are you already close, Aelin?”

Her cheeks were flushed, but he could see them darken. “It’s been…a while,” she admitted.

Rowan nodded, slowly, and said no more as they got out of the car and went up the stairs. Rowan’s car honked in the distance as it locked.

His hands cupped under her ass as he carried, he didn’t set Aelin down once.

Not wanting to wait until she dug her own key out of her bag, Rowan headed straight for his door, unlocked the lock, and crossed the threshold. The door was shut with Aelin’s back, which was quickly pressed up against it. His mouth found hers hungrily, urgently.

Her hands were under his suit jacket, pushing it over his shoulders. He shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. Rowan’s hips were pressing into her, holding her against the door, as he lifted the jersey off of her body. It joined his suit jacket, and Rowan’s lips found her neck.

Aelin groaned his name quietly, and something inside Rowan snapped.

Before Aelin could decipher what was happening, she was being dropped onto his couch, and Rowan was pulling her boots off one by one before roughly undoing her jeans. He tugged them off and his mouth attached to her lace-covered sex.

The moan that tore from Aelin was the single most erotic noise he’d ever heard.

She was so wet, so ready, and Rowan had to remind himself to take his time. If it had been a while for Aelin, he would make it all worth the wait. 

She breathed his name and his shoulders tensed as the single word crept down his spine, leaving chills in its wake. Rowan’s lips pressed against her sex once, twice, then his teeth pulled the thin lace fabric over her panties and tugged, gently. 

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed, his breath warm against her. 

“Everything,” she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders. “All of it, all of you.” There was a pause as Rowan tugged on her panties, yet again, with his teeth. “Taste me.”

He would oblige her, if for no other reason than the memory of the taste of her, off her fingers, had been on his mind for days. He could only imagine how sweet she would be straight from the source.

His fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties and Aelin lifted her hips, letting him pull the pale lace down her legs. When he pulled back, loosening his tie and tossing it to the side, he couldn’t help but run an appreciative eye over her body.

She had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and one of her arms was above her head, clutching at the couch cushion. She still wore the soft pink, lace bra, but Rowan would make quick work of that later. Her legs were pressed together though, and with what he wanted to do, that wasn’t going to work. He tried to push her legs apart but she shook her head.

“Not until you lose that,” she breathed, reaching out and tugging on the collar of his dress shirt lightly.

Rowan chuckled, but didn’t protest. He pushed himself up on his knees and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. He watched Aelin’s eyes as he did so, watched how her eyes followed the slow motion of his fingers.

The second Rowan’s shirt hit the ground, Aelin’s legs spread wide.

He smirked, moving his fingers to the belt around his waist, removing it, before flicking the button of his slacks and letting them fall to the floor.

Aelin’s eyebrows rose as she took Rowan in, in all of his naked, muscular, tattooed glory. “I didn’t know you weren’t wearing underwear.”

The smirk on his face was one of distinct male pride. “Sometimes it’s just too constricting.”

Rowan dropped to his knees and settled himself between those legs, kissing the inside of her thigh, then the other. 

The second his lips made contact with her sex, a quiet sigh that left Aelin. Rowan dragged his tongue between her folds and the sigh became a gasp. Her fingers tugged on the short strands of his hair, which only urged him on.

He gripped her hips, pulling her ass to the edge of the couch, spreading her legs as wide as he could. He gazed up at her as he gave her a long, flat lick, then another, and another.

Aelin swore she was going to catch on fire, was going to physically combust as Rowan devoured her. And when his tongue, at last, flicked over her all too sensitive clit, she cried out, and Rowan repeated the motion again and again, until she was muttering his name like a reverent prayer.

He didn’t bother feeling sorry for their neighbors as Aelin’s volume increased.

There was no vulgarity in her curses, no shame in her screams. She held nothing back as she writhed beneath him, was nothing but confident as her eyes rolled back and she fell into an endless void of pure and utter ecstasy. 

She was completely and beautifully alive, and Rowan was lost in the image of her deep in pleasure.

It wasn’t long before her heels began to dig into his back, her screams became less intelligible and her legs began to shake slightly. Rowan looked up at her, groaning as he saw her head thrown back, her hand gripping her breast, her chest heaving.

Sensing his eyes on her, Aelin’s eyes opened and she looked down at him. Her gaze was wild, her eyes glazed and pupils blown out in her lust. Nearly none of the sparkling iris was visible. With his eyes on hers, Rowan sucked her clit between his lips.

And Aelin shattered.

Her hips bucked off the couch as her orgasm slammed into her and Rowan wrapped his arms around her legs, placing his large hand against her stomach. He held her down on the couch as he continued to worship her body, his tongue plunging in and out of her, before paying special attention to her clit again.

The noises falling from Aelin’s lips eventually became quieter and quieter and after a moment, the only only sound was her heavy breathing and the sound of Rowan’s lips kissing a path up her body. He paused at her chest, playing with the lace of her bra. Aelin’s eyes lazily opened and settled on him.

“Wow,” was all she said.

“Wow?” He repeated, quietly, licking his lips.

“Wow,” she said, one more time, softly, pulling on his face until his lips met hers. She could taste herself on his tongue.

Her body shuddered again in the aftermath, and she wrapped her arms around him with a soft, shaky laugh.

“You’re tongue has a ridiculous amount of talent,” she said.

Rowan only grinned. “And I’ve only just begun.”

“Is that so?” She whispered, rubbing her fingers through his wildly messy hair.

“Mmm.” The noise was an affirmation, but his lips had left hers and were back on her neck. He lightly sucked on the sensitive skin there. His teeth nipped lightly. “You have no idea.”

Her response was breathy. “Prove it.”

Rowan slowly pulled away, his eyes finding her hers, and the grin on his face was dangerous.

Before Aelin could react, Rowan had her over his shoulder, carrying her into his bedroom and tossed her on his bed. She giggled quietly, but didn’t have time to right herself before Rowan had flipped her over and grabbed her hips, pulling her up onto her knees.

His face was back between her legs, his tongue diving back into her sex and Rowan wrung three more orgasms from her, back to back to back.

When she was a quivering mess on the bed, her legs having given out somewhere between the third and fourth orgasm, Rowan trailed his fingers down her back before gently pushing one inside of her. Aelin moaned softly, and Rowan felt her tighten around his finger. He teased her with one more and asked, “You okay?”

She nodded, not saying anything, just enjoying the feel of his fingers filling her, working her, higher and higher again. She had never cum so much in such a short amount of time.

“Should I stop?” He asked, curving his fingers, searching for that spot he knew lay deep inside of her.

She shook her head, incapable of saying anything. To punctuate her reply, she tried to shift backwards, tried to urge him on, pushing him deeper, quicker, harder.

He pulled his fingers from her slick heat, and crawled up her body, pressing kisses along her back as he went. He leaned down, his lips against her ear. “What do you want, darlin’?”

She finally spoke, though her voice was high and breathy. “I want you to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, quietly, nipping at the back of her ear. 

Aelin nodded, once, slowly, still trying to catch her breath. 

“Slowly?” he whispered, gripping her hips and pulling her ass back into him.

“It seems you don’t do anything without taking your time,” she breathed, and Rowan’s grin widened as his teeth gently found the side of her neck. 

“Is that a complaint?” Rowan grumbled. 

Instead of replying, Aelin lifted her ass, rubbing it against his bare cock. Rowan took a harsh breath through his teeth and Aelin chuckled quietly, burying her face into his comforter.

While he looked like the picture of calm, his control was getting dangerously close to snapping. He needed her, and he needed her now. He kissed her neck one last time before sitting up and gripping Aelin’s hips. He pulled her ass up until she was on her knees again and he stroked his cock.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he admitted, placing a hand on her lower back.

“Don’t care,” she mumbled, pushing her ass back against him.  “I’m on the pill. I need you. Please.”

He didn’t need to hear her say it again, didn’t need to be told twice. 

“Rowan,” she pleaded, and he fell into her without another word.

She gasped as he slowly slid his cock inside of her. Rowan’s eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back as he pulled her ass into him.

The apartment was silent, save for the sound of Aelin’s gasps and Rowan’s quiet grunts as he thrusted into her again and again. He tried to keep it slow, to let her adjust to his length, to let her lead and listen to her body. His fingers kneaded her hips, and he glanced down, watching as he slid in and out of her warm, hot center.

“Fuck, Ace,” he breathed. He wanted to smack her ass, wanted to slam into her as hard as he could and hear her scream his name. There would be time for that later though. For now, he was thriving on the sounds that fell from her lips as he pulled nearly all the way out, leaving just the head of his cock inside of her, and slid all the way back in.

Aelin reached back and unclasped her bra, removing it and throwing it to the side. Rowan tracked the motion, wanting so desperately to flip her over and finally worship her breasts. He had yet to see them, but he had a pretty good imagination.

She looked over her shoulder, as if reading his thoughts before pulling up her leg and turning herself around. Rowan tracked the motion, watched as she fell onto her back and met his hungry gaze. Her wild, untamed hair was spread out against his pillow, her beautiful breasts on full display. 

His eyes trailed down as he admired her body, then back up again as he thrust himself back inside.

She cried out softly, and Rowan lick his thumb before reaching down and rolling her pink, pebbled nipple between her thumb and finger. Aelin’s eyes rolled back in her head and he watched as her hand slipped between them and began to circle the sensitive nub at the apex of her sex.

The sight was almost as erotic as the sounds she began to make, her pussy clenching around him. He groaned, loving the feeling of being inside her.

And then she moaned his name.

Something concrete snapped inside of him, the tentative control he had over himself finally losing out, and he grabbed that hand she was using to play with herself. Pinning both of her hands above her head, Rowan laid over her, crashing his lips against hers, and his thrusts became harsh and quick and rough.

Aelin was groaning into his mouth and gripping his hands in her own. She bit his lip, and the sound that came from Rowan had her toes curling. Every ounce of her being was unravelling, and she suddenly lost all sense of who and where she was.

“I’m close,” she whimpered, throwing her head back. Rowan’s teeth found her throat, but his thrusts slowed, nearly stopping. He pulled almost all the way out and paused, nibbling on the skin of her neck.

She gripped his hair and tugged his face towards hers. “What are you doing?”

His lips brushed hers in a near-kiss. “You can’t cum yet.”

She tried to push her hips up into him, which only made him chuckle. She growled, “You’re a cruel, wicked man.” 

Rowan didn’t respond, he only kissed the side of her neck, sucking on the most tender of spots. He palmed her breast as he teased her, slowly inching his way back inside of her.

It was only a few minutes before he picked his pace back up, his lips unable to stay off her skin, kissing, biting, licking. He rested his forehead against hers and asked, “Are you still close?”

She nodded, her eyes shut, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back.

He nipped at the tip of her nose, wanting her attention. Aelin opened her eyes and gazed up at him. “Do you want to cum?”

She nodded again, breathless.

“Say it,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“I need to cum,” she whispered, one hand threading through his hair, holding him where he was. “Please.”

Please.

That word falling from her lips did things to him he wasn’t expecting, and Rowan hooked one of Aelin’s legs around his waist. He pulled all the way out, before slamming back into her, repeating the motion again and again and again until she came with a breathy moan, clinging to Rowan. Her body went rigid, save for her legs, which were quivering, locked around Rowan’s waist.

His lips crashed into hers in a bruising kiss and he fucked her fast and hard until she came down from her orgasm.

Her legs were still shaking, but she had gone nearly limp against the mattress.

“Good?” Rowan asked, smirking as he gazed down at her.

She nodded, not opening her eyes. “Very good.”

He kissed her gently, sweetly, so unlike what they’d just done, and they stayed like that for a few moments.

She pulled away, and asked, “Wait, did- did you not cum yet?”

The grin on Rowan’s face was almost childish, sheepish. “No, I’ve, ah, I’ve got pretty good stamina. Can go all night. Can be ready to go again after about five minutes if I do, though.”

Aelin’s eyebrows rose. “That’s good to know.”

“Aye?” He was chuckling quietly, and began kissing her neck again.

She caught him off guard, using his surprise against him, and rolled them. He was flat on his back, while she straddled him, his cock still nestled inside of her.

“Shit, that’s…full,” she breathed, adjusting to the new angle. With a devilish smile, Rowan flexed his hips, making it twitch inside of her. Aelin gasped and bucked her hips, which had Rowan’s smiling faltering, a quiet groan tumbling from him.

Those hips moved slowly as Rowan’s hands ran up her thighs and behind her ass. Although Aelin didn’t take her eyes off him, Rowan’s eyes fell shut, his mouth having fallen open. A low noise came from the back of his throat, a noise that Aelin thrived on.

Her hands slid up his abdomen and rested, palms flat atop his chest.

He could feel her nails gently digging into his skin, and he gripped her hips, helping guide her as she picked up speed. Her head fell forward and his name was a whisper on her lips. That sound, those two syllables, had Rowan growling as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down and roughly kissing her, and he snapped his hips up into hers.

Aelin tore her lips away from his as she cried out, and Rowan bit down on the tender skin where her neck and shoulder met. He continued to thrust up into her, as Aelin fell apart in his arms, the small cries and whimpers spurring him on.

“I’m about to cum,” she moaned, resting her forehead against his. “Please, please, please, I’m so close.”

Rowan grunted his acknowledgment and he realized he was getting close, too. The feel of her all around him, the weight of her body on top of his, her breasts pressing against his chest, had him seeing stars.

He rolled them, pinning Aelin beneath him again, letting his lips close around her nipple as his fingers found that sensitive nub at the apex of her sex.

She gasped. “Fuck, Rowan, please!”

The cry was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard and gods, he wants to hear her moan his name for the rest of his life.

He felt her shatter completely as her knees shook around his hips. He kept moving, kept pushing, until his toes began to curl and the feeling of utter ecstasy filled his core. 

He breathed her name, his voice breaking into nothingness halfway through. A low groan escaped, and then another, as he pushed himself inside of her one last time. His body went rigid as he came, his face pressed into the crook of her neck.

They stayed like that for a few moments, no sound in the quiet apartment, save for their heavy breathing and the hum of the air conditioner as it kicked on.

Delicate fingers began to drag a gentle path up and down his back. Aelin chuckled as Rowan hummed softly, loving the feeling of her hands on his skin. He hadn’t pulled out, was still nestled deep inside her, and when he finally pulled back to look at her, he was once again floored by just how radiantly gorgeous she was.

Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair a mess. He had never seen anyone so beautiful.

Leaning up to press a featherlight kiss to her lips, Rowan whispered, “I am so in love with you, Aelin Galathynius.”

Her eyes softened and she wrapped her arms around him a little tighter as he kissed her again. She didn’t need to repeat the words back to him.

He could feel the truth of them in her kiss.

[blueskrugs]

Four Times Fate Brought You to Vince Dunn, and One Time You Found Him on Purpose

I wrote this simultaneously with another Vince 4+1 (coming tomorrow, hopefully!) and yelled to @captainpetty​ and Erin​ about them constantly. Sorry guys. 

length: 3k words

An Accident You met Vince Dunn for the first time in an emergency room in St. Louis. Normally you worked the pediatric floor, and not on the night shift, but sometimes you floated to the general emergency room for an extra shift because, well, money is money.

You liked pediatrics because dealing with kids was far easier than adults, in your opinion, even when parents could sometimes be just as difficult as a screaming toddler. But at least screaming toddlers could be calmed down with the promise of a sticker or a lollipop. 

“Hey, can you pick up the new guy that just came in?” one of the other nurses asked as she breezed past you to handle one of her patients. “I think they said something about him being important around here.”

“Being important” meant that, when you pulled the curtain back to face your newest patient, you came face-to-face with a very drunk Vince Dunn and a significantly less drunk Colton Parayko. You simply raised an eyebrow and moved over to the computer to start charting.

“I’m not really sure I want to know what happened here, but I think I have to ask,” you said, trying to ignore the fact that you were pretty sure Vince was whispering to Colton about you.

“Is there any way, like, our training staff-”

“And Petro!”

“God, yeah, and Petro, won’t find out about this? Because I wasn’t supposed to let anything happen to him, and we have a game tomorrow,” Colton finished. 

That really didn’t answer your question, and you weren’t sure how anything that brought the two of them into an ER after midnight was going to be easily hidden for a game the next night. You turned then, properly looked at the boys, took in Vince sitting on the bed with his feet swinging above the ground like a child. His shirt was a little wet with what was probably beer, and, when you looked closer, blood. His left hand was wrapped in a bar rag–that you really hoped had been clean when they got it–that was definitely blood-stained. 

Colton explained to you, as you started an IV in Vince’s right arm and cleaned the gash in his palm that would definitely need stitches, that they had gone out in spite of their captain telling them it was a bad idea. Vince had had one beer too many and had ended up on a table, then fell off the table, catching his fall on someone’s pint of beer. By the way Vince winced when you moved his hand around to clean it, you were pretty sure his wrist sprained, too.

You hovered a bit as one of the ER doctors came in and checked out Vince’s hand and wrist. Vince was quiet, but you could feel him watching you as you fidgeted around the small room. By the time everything was ready for him to be sent home, he was definitely more sober himself, but that also meant he was lucid enough to be embarrassed about how he ended up in the ER. You watched as Colton led him out of the ER and to a waiting Uber, and you wondered just how the hell they were planning on hiding his hand from everyone the next day.

At a Bar The second time you met Vince Dunn was, somewhat ironically, in a bar. You had seen him as soon as you walked in, laughing with some of his teammates in the corner, but you diligently ignored him as you headed to the bar with your friend to get a drink. Why would he remember some random ER nurse from over a month ago, when he had been drunk? You shook your head, determined to ignore the loud hockey boys in the corner and have a good night yourself. 

You had been at the bar almost an hour and had done a pretty good job of ignoring and avoiding the hockey players in the corner. You headed over to the bar for a second drink, when you felt a hand press against your lower back. You tensed, twisting around as much as you could in the crowded bar to see who was behind you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Vince said, but he didn’t move his hand. He raised his left hand to get the attention of the bartender, and you saw the flash of a still-healing scar on his palm, pink even in the dim light of the bar. “You were that nurse from the ER, yeah? I never thanked you for taking care of my drunk ass that night.” He smiled, then, wide and genuine, hand still warm against the small of your back, and you relaxed a little bit. 

You were surprised that he recognized you. You’d heard stories of the younger players on the Blues wheeling multiple girls at once; you vaguely wondered how they kept track of them, much less a nobody nurse he’d met once. 

You didn’t say that, though, just smiled back at him as the bartender slid two beers in front of you. You reached into your pocket to pay but Vince grabbed your wrist.

“Nah, this one’s on me. Said I had to thank you, didn’t I?” he told you. You tried not to think about how green his eyes were up close. 

You shook yourself again; you didn’t need this. You didn’t need this. Besides, how many more times could you run into Vince Dunn?

In Enemy Territory It was in Pittsburgh, of all places, when you saw Vince Dunn again. One of your brothers had moved out there for work, and you were visiting him for a week, helping out with babysitting his kids, hanging with your sister-in-law. You hadn’t even thought to check the Blues’ schedule; you had no idea they were on a road trip to play the Penguins. 

You were standing in line at a Starbucks, your two-year-old nephew balanced on your hip, your sister-in-law still outside with the other kids.  You heard the door open behind you, and a loud group came in, but now you were focused on ordering before the toddler you were carrying decided he got bored and threw a tantrum. You were struggling to reach your card one handed when someone else reached past you.

“Add it to ours,” the voice belonging to the arm said. You spun, only to see Colton Parayko looking down at you with a smile. You looked over his shoulder to see several of his teammates shoving each other playfully in line. That would explain the loud group you’d heard come in. Colton was introducing himself to the two year old you were carrying, but you were still watching his teammates. Vince caught your eye from where he was trying to put Jordan Kyrou in a headlock and grinned, immediately letting go of Rouzy. You smiled back, a little caught off guard. 

You stepped to the side as you waited.  Before long, you were joined by Vince, both of you trying to ignore the catcalls from his other teammates. 

“And who’s this little guy?” Vince cooed, actually ignoring you aside from a quick smile. You raised an eyebrow a little bit at his baby-voice.

Your nephew tucked his face into your neck, suddenly shy. “Oh, come on now,” you said to him. “This is Jake, he’s my brother’s youngest,” you explained to Vince. Vince continued to talk to your nephew in that same high, gentle voice, until he was giggling and chattering right back. The barista called your name, and Jake picked that moment to decide he was done being patient and started fussing, very close to crying and screaming. You couldn’t balance two drinks and two sandwiches as well as a fidgeting toddler, and you groaned. 

“Here give him to me,” Vince said, reaching out to take him before you could protest. Jake settled immediately, and you glared at him a little. You could hear Vince talking to him more as you scrambled to pick up all of your order. He followed you outside, and you ignored the interested stares of the rest of the guys. 

He continued to hold Jake as you handed off your sister-in-law’s half of the order, stood there to chat with her and the other kids, long after Sammy came out with Vince’s drink. He used the same voice he had used to befriend Jake on the other two kids, but he talked and laughed with you and Sarah in the next breath, even teasing her for the Pens shirt she was wearing. 

You were doing your best not to think about how that voice was making you melt every time he used it. His teammates eventually dragged him away to get back to the hotel before the game, but not before Vince talked you into exchanging phone numbers. 

You tried telling yourself that you were never going to use it. 

In a Grocery Store You were pretty sure the universe was laughing at you at this point. Your mom had invited herself over for dinner, and you had nothing in your apartment to cook. Which meant you rushed to a grocery store on your lunch break, and you ended up at a different one than you usually went to because it was closer to work.

Why couldn’t all grocery stores be laid out the same? You were trying very hard to make it look like you weren’t turning in circles as you tried to find everything you were looking for when your phone buzzed. You pulled it out with a huff, fully expecting it to your mom again, but instead the name on your screen read, “Vince Dunn.” 

You paused. It had been nearly another month since Pittsburgh, and neither one of you had texted the other one. You were (mostly) perfectly content with leaving it that way, but clearly Vince had other ideas. The screen had gone dark, but it lit up again, reminding you it was there. You read the text, the simple words “you look a little lost.” With that you spun around, and, sure enough, Vince was standing a couple feet behind you, leaning against a shelf with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t have time for this,” you said, turning back around and starting to push your cart in a direction that hopefully ended in pasta. 

“Hey, wait,” Vince said, taking a couple annoyingly long steps to catch up to you and put a hand on your cart to stop you. “Lemme help. It’ll be faster. I’ve been watching you walk in circles for like ten minutes.” You blushed as he smirked again, but his eyes were soft. 

You wanted so badly to just push past Vince, forget you had ever met him, and then met him again and again, delete his number from your phone, but you also knew he was right; he would probably get you out of this damned grocery store a lot faster than you could probably manage on your own, and maybe you really wanted to spend a little time with him, too. 

So you sighed, handed Vince the list you had scribbled on the back of a gas receipt, and let him lead you around the grocery store. He let you rant about your mom, and then about work, only pausing to offer opinions on the food he was putting in your cart. After a while, you realized you had actually managed to get everything on your list, but now Vince was wandering aimlessly around the store, sneaking junk food into your cart. You raised an eyebrow as you watched him slip a package of cookie mix behind the box of pasta. He looked up at you as you leaned on the cart handle, sheepish now that he’d been caught.

“What?I like snickerdoodles,” he said in defense.

You shook your head and pulled the package out of the cart. “I can make better snickerdoodles from scratch, dude.” You looked closer at everything in your cart. “And I don’t like jalapeno Cheetos,” you said, throwing the bag at Vince.

“Is that a promise on the snickerdoodles?” Of course he focused on that.

“I don’t know, maybe. Now go put the damn Cheetos back.”

Vince laughed. You willed yourself to focus on getting out of the store and home to cook dinner, not just kissing Vince in the middle of the baking aisle. 

“Don’t knock ‘em until you try ‘em. Thommer’s gotten the whole team addicted at this point,” Vince told you over his shoulder as he went to put the Cheetos back from wherever he found them. You turned around and headed back in what you thought was the direction of checkout. Vince found you again as you stood in line. You had honestly thought the whole Cheetos thing would be the end of this interaction with him, but apparently not. 

“Don’t you have your own grocery shopping to do?” you asked, realizing just how much time Vince had spent with you in the store. “Instead of helping some random girl?” you added, allowing the insecurity you were suddenly feeling slip into your voice. 

Vince started putting your groceries on the conveyor belt. “Nah, Sammy just wanted some snacks, and he can wait.”

You let Vince load the rest of your stuff onto the belt, you didn’t let him pay–though he fought you on that one for several minutes–and you let him walk with you to your car and put all of your groceries in the trunk.

You were halfway home before you thought to wonder if he actually went back and got snacks for Sammy. 

At a Hockey Game When your best friend texted you and asked if you wanted to go to a Blues game with her, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You had grown up a hockey fan, had found Hannah in high school, and there you two were, years later, still yelling about the Blues over texts and phone calls and in person. Your eagerness had absolutely nothing to do with Vince Dunn. 

You also didn’t hesitate to snap a picture of your ticket and send it to Vince after Hannah handed it to you. You didn’t really think he’d see it so close to puck drop, but you still regretted it as soon as the tiny little “sent” appeared underneath the picture. 

The game was exciting, and the Blues won, which helped distract you from the anxiety you were feeling over Vince. Mostly. Until he scored a goal, and his eyes swept the sea of blue in Enterprise Center, and, for a split second, you let yourself think he was looking for you. 

Until after the game, when you and Hannah were getting up to leave, and an usher appeared next to you, saying your name and telling you to follow her. Getting down below the arena was a blur of people and security, being given neon wristbands and convincing people that, “Yes, I was invited down here by a player, I belong down here,” even if you didn’t really believe that second part was true. 

You both hovered awkwardly in the doorway to the room where all of the WAGs and kids were waiting, and suddenly you regretted wearing your Parayko jersey just a little bit. You were thankful to have your friend next to you, though, and you explained the whole grocery store thing to her while you waited. You were starting to debate leaving, telling everyone that, yeah, actually, letting you down into the tunnels was a mistake, that you have no business being there, when you’re wrapped up in a hug suddenly, and there’s Vince, freshly-showered and back in his suit– and this is new, but it’s nice and you let yourself relax into the hug.

Vince pulled back, and he was smiling at you and introducing himself to Hannah, and Colton was standing behind him with a matching smile. You remembered the 55 sprawled across your back, and you knew Colton saw it, but then he was wrapping his arm around your shoulder and didn’t say anything about it.

You weren’t so lucky with Vince. “I’ve gotta get you a new jersey,” he said. You just rolled your eyes and shrugged. 

“I’ll sign that one for you,” Colton whispered. 

Vince and Colton started arguing over that, and you were starting to think that this is something you could get used to, since this was apparently your new normal, when Alex Pietrangelo comes over to your little group, and you were reminded a little just how not normal this was for you. 

“Is this the nurse Dunner won’t shut up about?” Petro asked Colton, who nodded over your head. “You really freaked him out when you texted him before the game,” Petro was talking again, this time to you. “We thought he was gonna go out into the stands to find you himself.”

You laughed, more at the bright blush that was spreading over Vince’s cheeks. “What happened to ‘Petro can’t find out about this?’” you asked.

“That went out the window pretty fast,” Colton told you.

“And I don’t know how you ever thought you could hide eight stitches in your hand and a sprained wrist from me,” Petro added.

“You should have heard him after we saw you in Pittsburgh. He kept looking for you at the game that night, too.” 

You smiled up at Vince, who was blushing all the way up his ears now, but he just wrapped his arm around your shoulders and buried his face in your hair. Yeah, you could definitely get used to that. You elbowed him in the ribs a little bit, but his arm just tightened around your shoulders. 

He and Colton walked you and Hannah back to your car outside the arena, Colton chirping Vince relentlessly the whole way.

Vince grabbed your hand before you could get in your car. “I’ll text you, yeah?” He looked unsure, which was probably the first time you’d ever seen him nervous around you. “Sammy won’t stop asking me when you’re baking us cookies.”

“I don’t remember saying anything about baking Sammy Blais cookies,” you laughed. “Text me when your next day off is, and we’ll see about those cookies.” And then, because apparently you couldn’t stop doing impulsive things tonight, you pushed up on your toes to kiss Vince on the cheek before climbing into the car.

Your phone vibrated in your cupholder less than five minutes later, and you knew without checking that it was Vince. 

[csykora]

hockey, a primer

Hockey is a quick game to start watching. Fundamentally there’s a goalie guarding the net, two defensive players guarding the goalie, and three offensive forwards attacking the other team’s net.

Unlike normal sports, hockey players break the rules a lot. Common infractions include smacking another player with your stick, pretending they smacked you with their stick, poking them in the dick with your stick when you are not on the ice, licking them (yes we need this rule) and tripping them. This happens every couple minutes, and the player is punished by having to sit alone for a couple minutes while the teams continue to play with an uneven number of players. 

This is called the man advantage, powerplay, or, regrettably, the PP for the team who didn’t do a crime, and the penalty kill for the guilty team. There aren’t a lot of set plays compared to something like football, and what strategy there is in the game depends on this. Listen closely and you will hear someone’s dad already screaming more information about special teams into your ear.

You do not need to know the names of the formations used in special teams. Just watch how the puck gets from one person to the next, or how it doesn’t, and you will start to see the important things.

Rosters

Each forward line has two wingers, who are expected to skate fast up and down the sides of the ice and take the most shots, and the center, who manages the middle, passing the puck between the others and directing them into the right series of positions so the puck can be bounced to where it needs to go: they’re the brains of the operation (with the goalie also using their unique view of the full rink to direct play by banging their stick and swearing at the players in front of them). 

Sometimes multiple players who usually play the center position are put out at the same time, with some of them taking up the wing position. This strategy is called a ‘two-’ or ‘three-headed monster’ in the NHL, because a ‘natural center’ is thought to be a smarter strategy player.

Defense is organized in pairs, so one person takes each side. Compared to forwards who mostly skate...you know...defenders have to be able to skate equally well going forwards and backwards, which requires a different skating stride. Their main goal is to isolate and disrupt the other team’s forwards, by positioning their bodies in the ‘passing lane’ between two opposing players so they can’t pass to each other or in the shooting lane in front of a player so they can’t shoot, or by knocking the opponent out of position.

Often you’ll see one defender will tend to “stay at home” guarding the net while the other swings out wide or follows the forwards into the other team’s zone as a second wave of offense. 

A team has enough to make three pairs of D and four lines of forwards, which are numbered. Flashy stars are expected to be in line 1 and 2 (the ‘top’), workmen in 3 and 4 (the ‘bottom six’), and by tradition the 4th line in particular are your rowdy boys who lay the most hits and start fights. Everyone knows those ranks are kind of imaginary, but players getting moved up or down the hierarchy gives us Drama. Hockey players mate for life, and usually play with the same D-partner or linemates, but they can also be swapped around into different combinations when the coach sees fit.

Structure

The NHL plays a bonkers number of games. Most years, the hockey season starts in the fall and grinds with games every other day or so through the winter until the players are all dehydrated and exhausted, at which point the playoffs start. The Stanley Cup playoffs are four rounds of best-of-seven elimination series, and it’s often described as the most intense championship in sports. This year, we’ve just wrapped up made-up qualifiers to pick the teams that will start the first round of the playoffs tomorrow.

Please follow a smarter blog than me for current updates on the North American women’s leagues. I am going to refer to the North American women’s game, but I’m not the best source on it.

The KHL and ZhWL play a slightly less bonkers number of games, but make up for it by being weird as shit and incorporate live music, even live-er pyrotechnics, and swords. You can buy access to games for about a cup of coffee.

The EIHL is in Britain, and I don’t know when they play but they do, so if you’re one of the British people who ask me this question, good luck

North America vs The World

International hockey is played on a larger and wider rink than North American hockey. More space means that passing accurately and skating efficiently become more important, and it’s statistically less likely that players will bump into each other, so hitting is less important than in North American men’s hockey. The greater width means that wingers in the Continental Hockey League (KHL) and other national leagues are expected to control a decent chunk of open ice, not just the lane along the boards, so they’re more like North American centers, running the “three-headed monster” play all the time.

When men’s Team Canada plays on international ice, they’re able to fill their roster with centers, bridging the two styles.

Overpassing

Overpassing is a buzzword used to critique both women’s hockey players and Russian men’s hockey players. In North American men’s hockey, there’s a principle that the person who carries the puck into the attacking zone should be the one to shoot it, or make at most one pass: passing back and forth in the offensive zone ‘wastes time’ and increases the risk that the defenders will intercept one of those passes and take possession.

But this is something Russian men’s players are actually taught to do. They are expected to be more accurate passers, so the risk of the pass being intercepted should be low anyway. Shooting is almost guaranteed to give up possession, after which the other team will have a chance to shoot and score on you…so why not keep passing it around we either have a perfect opening or we run down the clock?

Women’s hockey players are similarly good enough skaters (young girls often come into the sport with figure skating experience and they all receive a high level of skate training) and passers that they can hold possession. They are trained to be very aware of how their teammates are positioned, and so they will pass more in the zone.

Think of it like this: North American men think, “I gotta shoot the puck to score goals before the other guy smashes me and takes it and scores goals with it!”, women think, “I’ve got a 50/50 chance if I shoot, but my girl over there is 100%” and Russian men think, “Aw, you want this puck? You wanna shoot it and score goals with it? Okay…catch me first.”

More on different styles

the hockey puppy mill

In Canada, players go through a junior league system that has several tiers and leagues. At 16, they’re typically drafted into major juniors in the Canadian Hockey League, which has three branches, the Ontario Hockey League (“the O”), the Quebec Major Junior League (the Q), or the Western Hockey League. At that point they often move away from their family to ‘billet’ with a family who either work for the team or whose own son was drafted away to a different team.

Because players are paid stipends and players over 18 who have already signed with NHL teams are allowed to play in major juniors, this is considered a professional league, so they are not allowed to play NCAA sports after playing in major juniors. Others choose to play in Junior A (smaller than the CHL) to preserve their pro-virginity for college.

In the US, the United States Hockey League runs Tier I hockey. Players’ equipment expenses are covered and they are often billeted, but because they’re not directly paid, USHLers are allowed to play NCAA sports in college.

If a player is drafted by an NHL team at 18, they may choose to play in the NCAA while getting a degree, continue in juniors, or be sent to the NHL team’s American League (AHL) team. Players who weren’t drafted do the school or junior thing and might be able to sign with an NHL team independently. While players are eligible to play in the NHL at 18, it is a very weird and recent development for them to actually do that; generally 20-22 is a common age for forwards to debut, 22-24 for defensemen, and 24+ for goalies.

North American women often play high school or with boys in juniors up to the AHL, before going NCAA and then to European women’s leagues or if possible to the North American women’s leagues.

In Russia, players take classes at hockey schools, usually affiliated with the local KHL team, after their ordinary school lets out for the say. They start with a combination of skating technique and playtime to encourage creativity, with the hours increasing as they grow up and are promoted through the team’s own junior levels to MHL (the AHL equivalent) and the main KHL team. Players are eligible for the KHL at 16. While they often stay in their hometown, they can choose to go to a different team’s hockey school at certain points, in which case they or their families move to school housing.

More on culture

Equipment

Skates

Skates have a firm boot and a blade which has two sharp edges with a hollow in between. They do not have toe picks, so skaters have to use a two-foot parallel stop or “hockey stop”

Hockey stops send up a cloud of snow so they’re a great way to be a dick to your teammates, and they make a swoosh swoosh SWOOSH sound that’s just great.

You will be able to see who is a great skater, trust your eye. There are lots of different ways to be a great skater that you can start to appreciate. Some people are fast on the straightaways, some people can pick up speed more quickly over short distances, some are more mobile with lots of fine turns, some have endurance.

Sticks

Hockey sticks are made of different materials with different levels of whippiness. They have a shaft, which is cut to measure from the ground to somewhere between your chin and your eyebrows. Forwards tend to go shorter for control, defensemen longer for reach. No player is allowed to carry a stick over 63” unless they have a height exemption, which is why Colton Parayko has to carry a Certified Big Boy card and his own teammate once got a penalty for coping a feel of his stick. The blade curves forward away from you as you hold it, and the blade and top of the shaft are wrapped with slightly grippy tape. Some people care a lot about tape.

Your dominant hand usually goes at the top of your stick to control it, with your non-dominant hand on the shaft providing the power for most shots. Your hockey-handedness is named after the side of your body the blade stick is on: if you are right-handed, your right hand is on top, left hand is on the shaft, and you have a left-handed shot. 

That makes for a lot more natural left shooters than natural right shooters. Because you have the wall on one side and passes coming from another, it’s in some ways difficult for a left shooter to play on the right side of the ice. That means that the people who do have to play their “off wing” learn to switch how they hold their stick and will usually be very good at it, and can surprise the other team in certain ways, but there are strategic advantages to natural handedness, especially on defense. Coaches fantasize about having three pairs of perfectly matched right- and left-side defensemen, so right-shooting/left-handed d-men are hot shit.

The whippiness or stiffness of your stick helps you with your choice of less powerful, more accurate wristshots (which make the pretty ting! sound off the goalposts), medium one-timers and snapshots, preferred by forwards, or the big booming slapshots that defensemen use when they don’t much care for whoever’s between them and the other team’s goalie.

Pads

If you are going to shout an opinion about injuries, hits, fights, concussions, exemptions for young or small players, etc, please, you need to understand pads. This shit matters.

Hockey pads for skaters cover the lower legs and wrap from the shoulders across the upper chest and down the arms. This is why certain plays are held to be more or less dangerous than you might instinctively think. (More on weird injuries: here and here)

There are chinks in the armor at the knee/calf, wrist, and none at all on their belly, so a slash to the wrists or a blow/blade coming anywhere near someone’s stomach is very different than one landing elsewhere. The modern skate boot is also very stiff and ‘locks’ your foot in a certain position relative to your leg, so trips and falls can easily lead to foot injuries. Slashing, tripping, and especially kicking have a really good chance of hurting someone, which is why they are treated that way even if by good luck no one was hurt this time.

Pads are soft-cap or hard-cap: soft-cap is a thick layer of padding, hard-cap is a literal hard plastic shell armor. Hard-cap pads are illegal at major junior levels of competition and in rec leagues, because you can’t really feel through them: if you’re wearing soft pads and lay a hit on someone, you’ll both feel it, so there’s an upper limit on how much force you want to hit them with, but in hard pads you can smash someone into oblivion without hurting yourself. This is the same reason why you drop gloves before fighting: hitting someone with an armored glove on hurts you less but lets you hurt them more.

Concussions are a type of traumatic brain injury when a large force moves through the head and neck, causing the brain to slosh around in the skull. It is not just caused by direct blows to the head, but by intense movement of the head when the body is hit elsewhere. Men’s hockey is a leading sport for concussions in men, and women’s hockey is a or the leading cause of concussions in women. This is a problem, because concussions are bad. This is not just because fighting is allowed in men’s hockey, but because of the forces and collisions in both games. 

Statistically, an individual NHL player lays hundreds of hits per season, and fights between zero and a dozen times. Across the league there might be about a hundred hits in each game, and there’s a fight about every other game. Each fight lasts about 6 seconds and involves about a dozen shots. So while fighting is not safe, about 60% of concussions are linked to the much more common shoulder and head hits.

I deeply, dearly do not care if you do or don’t like fights. It is fine. You do you. But if you say banning fights would cure concussions while ignoring the role of hits, I will hunt you down and smack your phone out of your hands with a foam roller.

Jerseys Because they’re standing on ice, which is slippy, players grab each other’s jersey sleeves or collars during fights to hold them in range and punch with the other hand. In the past, players would not only drop their gloves before a fight but try to strip their sweaters off as well: if you were totally topless, he wouldn’t have a handhold and wouldn’t be able to hit you effectively. Now, jerseys are hooked to hockey pants with an elastic “fight strap” to stop the stripping.

Also they’re fun to fuck with.

Hockey socks are actually two pieces: a normal sock that goes on your foot and in your skate and then a tube with no foot in team colors that you pull on over it. Some NHL players do not wear the sock in their skate. I’m not going to name names, but I feel very, very comfortable saying that it is only the men that do this.

Note: OMGCP is not a depiction of athletic practice, injuries and safety, or Northern North American communities/culture (much less Russian). I desperately do not care if you like it as what it is, but the plays that are presented as normal and the mechanisms of injury shown are not accurate, and might be dangerous to apply to real injuries. Please do not base your opinions of rule calls or injuries that affect the safety of real people on it.

Bonus facts:

Hockey is a sweaty, sweaty game. However much you are imagining: it’s more. Skaters lose an average of 1.5 liters of fluid in a game, and some lose 2 to 3 liters. Goalies lose about 3 liters every practice. Braden Holtby specifically sweats off 9 pounds. This is why you see them chewing bubblegum during the game, and why rubbing a glove on someone’s face is a playful (or not) insult

Athletes don’t eat pop “health food”. They do not eat salads every meal. Hockey players today are typically on protein-heavy diets during the summer and early season to put on weight (both muscle and fat, which plays an important role in hydration and metabolism!), then switch to carbohydrate-heavy diets to make up for the amount of energy they burn in the later part of the season. Many are on “low sugar” diets because…well, that was pop science in the era that their coaches trained in, but many are not. Exercise anorexia and overtraining are increasingly epidemic in the sport because of the focus on body fat and form that is institutionalized in many programs. More on body fat here: X

“Indian head” logos commemorate the practice of white settlers trading the severed heads or body parts of Native Americans for cash. This is bad. Support Indigenous and First Nations fans in changing the name.

[futurebicon]

I am happy to give you ideas! Please supply me with your brilliant writing! I need a bedtime story! Maybe Sirius getting pretty badly injured at a game? Re's reaction and then him helping with recovery?🥰

Okay this ones a little unrealistic probably but I was looking up injuries in hockey and this came up multiple times so yeah. (Also I got so carried away with this one. I literally lagged my phone with how long this ended up being.  There’s defiantly going to be multiple parts because I wrote too much and Tumblr won’t let me write more

Warning : Injury, panic attack?, heart problems, mentions of child abuse

��You okay?” James asked Sirius.

“Yeah, I just feel-off. I guess.”

James nodded, still concerned about the pained look on his face.

He stood up to go tell Remus when Sirius collapsed.

Remus jumped over beach to get to him. The other players on the bench crowding around him.

“What happened?” James screamed.

They could hear the announcer talking about the commotion on the bench. Everyone on the ice skating over and shouting questions. The stadium filled with quiet whispers.

Remus’s mind went blank. He went into the medic routine, not thinking about the fact that it was the love of his life on the ground.

“He’s in cardiac arrest” Moody told them.

“He’s 24” Logan exclaimed.

“DAMN IT GET A MEDIC NOW” Dumo shouted. All of them screamed for a medic as Moody cut off his jersey and gear and Remus began CPR

“WHERE THE HELL IS THE MEDIC HES DYING” Kasey screamed. This sent a shock through the crowd.

The medics appeared and pushed everyone out of the way, only Moody was allowed on the bench with him.

“NO. HE’S DYING AND YOURE NOT HELPING HIM” James tried to fight them.

“Stops, Stop” Remus put a shaking hand on his chest. “Let them work. Let them help him. Please James, I’m begging you to let them help him” his voice shook.

James nodded, backing away from the bench.

Dumo went over to stand near Remus. “What are you thinking right now?” He asked him, knowing that it was pointless to ask if he was okay.

“That I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to lose him” Remus told him honestly. “My biggest fear is him getting hurt or leaving me and now he’s hurt and could be leaving me forever”

Dumo wrapped his arms around Remus, who’s breathing picked up as he thought about Sirius dying.

“Breathe, breathe Loops” He waved over Leo to help calm him down.

“Hey, hey. I know you’re fucking terrified right now. I can’t even imagine what I would do if it was one of my boys but you need to try and breathe Remus. You’re no help to Sirius if you’re panicking. Respirer, Remus”

He nodded, taking deep breathes.

“Good, good.” Leo nodded.

“If he d-”

“No, we’re not thinking about that right now” Dumo cut him off.

“His heart stopped” Remus began to remember bits and pieces of the last few minutes. Remembered checking for a pulse and telling Moody there wasn’t one. “His heart wasn’t beating. He was dead”

The rest of the players were standing around in terror.

They all went quiet as they tried to process what he said, they could hear the medics counting off numbers for the defibrillator.

Alice and Frank were quieting the stadium while trying to figure out what was happening.

The other team, the Hufflepuff Badgers skated over.

“What happened?” one of the players asked.

“Apparently cardiac arrest.” Adam Fox told him.

“He’s young though, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Yeah he is” Finn said sadly.

A stretcher ran past them, loading Sirius onto it.

His skin was the color of snow. His black hair a stark contrast where it fell into his closed eyes. Remus wanted nothing more than to tuck it behind his ear like he’s done hundreds of times. His jersey and gear had been completly removed. A medic was on the stretcher, preforming CPR as they rushed him off the ice and into the waiting ambulance.

Remus shook his head and covered his mouth, tears streaming down his face. James turned him around and hugged him. The entire team gathered around them in a huge hug.

The Hufflepuffs made a circle around them, all of them with their hands on their neighbors shoulder and head down.

They stayed that way for a while before refs told them that the game was over. Their coaches wanted them in their locker rooms. They nodded and pulled away.

The Hufflepuff players patted all their backs and told them they would pray for Sirius.

It was silent as they walked into the locker room.

Remus walked over and sat in Sirius’s stall. He jolted as he realized that they wind of had to cut his necklace off.

But his eyes drifted to the wall of his stall. A small nail in the back corner had the ‘12’ necklace hanging from it. With a post it beside it that read “Re, promise I still love it. Just can’t stand the thought of it getting broken. I love you.”

He smiled sadly, reaching over and took the necklace off the makeshift hook. He couldn’t hold back his sobs any longer.

“He’s going to be okay. He has to be okay.” James cried beside him.

Coach Weasley walked in a few minutes later. “They’re trying to stabilize him and get him on a ventilator. They’re thinking about surgery to put in an ICD”

“ICD? What the hell is that?”

“It’s a device that will monitor his heart rate and shock it if it beats irregularly” Remus explained.

“Like a pacemaker?”

“No pacemakers force your heart to beat. ICDs just monitor it and help if something goes wrong”

“Can he still play?”

“He will be able to if he chooses to but he’s out for the rest of the season. The league can’t risk it.” Coach told them.

“He’s 24 years old. How can you go into cardiac arrest at 24 years old?” Olli asked.

They all looked to Remus for the answer.

“He’s an athlete and works out religiously. Too much exercise can sometimes cause the left heart valve to overwork. He told me that when he was younger his parents wouldn’t let him or Regulus sleep. Making them practice on their rink until morning or they collapsed.”

“Jesus Christ they need to be in jail.” Logan gasped.

“Or hell” James requested.

“The second options much better” Kasey said. “I volunteer to help send them there”

“All of you get dressed to go to the hospital.” Arthur told them, not even commenting on their murder plans.

The team had never changed so quickly.

“Remus, you’re driving over with me.” Dumo told him, Remus just nodded.

“What if he’s not okay?” Remus broke the silence in the car. “I know everyone’s saying he will be but what if he’s not? Realalistic he’s not going to be okay”

“Then we deal with it if that happens. No one knows what’s going to happen. None of us know how to prepare for a teammate to die. So all we can do is wait”

“I can’t lose him Pascal. I don’t think I can live without him.”

Dumo didn’t respond, just reached over and placed a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing slightly. Partly because he wanted to comfort him and partly because he knew it was true.

***

The hospital was quiet as they all waited for news. Some of them sitting on the uncomfortable chairs, a few of them pacing.

“Can all of you stop” Sergio told them, getting annoyed with the footsteps.

“No we’re stressed out so we’re not going to sit” Finn rolled his eyes at him.

“It’s annoying” Kasey told them.

“Too bad. Deal with it” James rolled his eyes.

They argued for a few minutes before Remus snapped.

“KNOCK IT OFF” he barked. “My boyfriend is in there dying or already dead and you’re fighting because footsteps are annoying you.”

They all quieted and sat down.

Lily and Natalie walked into the waiting room a few minutes, tears on their faces.

James and Kasey stood up to hug them.

“What’s going on? What happened? No one knows anything.” Natalie asked.

“What did you see?” Dumo asked as Celeste walked in.

Lily pulled away from the hug she was in with Remus. “Me and Nat were watching the game. And then they panned over to the bench where you were crowded around someone on the ground, one of you tipped over the bench so there was more room and the arena got quiet. Then Dumo was shouting for a medic and Kasey shouted that someone was dying. And the crowd started screaming. Then medics ran over and made all of you clear out and James was screaming something at them. Then Dumo went over to Remus and they said that they think it’s Sirius but they don’t know what happened and then he was wheeled out on a stretcher with someone doing CPR. The the game was over. And the announcers just talked for the rest of the time trying to figure out what happened and replaying everything. They talked to Hufflepuff players but they said it wasn’t their place to explain.” She told them.

“Sirius went into cardiac arrest” James told them.

“Oh god” Celeste gasped.

“Remus I’m so sorry” Lily breathed, pulling him in for another hug.

Nat had more tears falling down her face. “Did they say how he was?”

Dumo shook his head.

They sat down. Lily sitting between James and Remus. Remus’s head on her shoulder as she held James’s hand.

No one knew how long they sat there for before a doctor walked over to them. They all stood up.

“How is he?” Remus asked, terror coursing through his body at the sober look on the doctors face.

“He’s stable.” Remus breathed for the first time in hours.

“His heart did stop multiple times so we ended up having to insert the ICD you were told about. He’s still not awake due to the medication. He’s allowed one visitor for now.”

They all nodded at Remus.

“You were lucky. If you hadn’t reacted like you did we wouldn’t of been able to save him.”

The doctor gave him Sirius’s room number and the overview of directions to get there before leaving.

Lily kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand. “Go see him.”

Remus just nodded and walked down the hospital hallway. He took a shaky breath as he walked into Sirius’s room. But none of it prepared him for it.

A bandage was around his chest and over his shoulder, protecting the stitches underneath. Too many wires were starched to him. Remus walked over to the chair and pulled it up beside him.

“Hi baby” he said as he grabbed his hand gently. Kissing his knuckles.

“I know you can’t hear me but I need you to wake up. I need to hear your voice and see your pretty eyes, okay. I need to know that you’re here and I’m not going to lose you. Please baby.” He begged. Reaching up with the hand not holding Sirius’s to brush the hair out of his face.

“I love you. I love you” he repeated, kissing his forehead. “Please wake up”

Time was water, Remus was drowning in it. Knowing he couldn’t do anything except wait.

Finally, Sirius’s hand twitched in his.

Remus stood up. Watching Sirius blink his eyes open, squinting at the bright hospital light.

“Hey, hey baby” Remus smiled at him, his eyes filled with hears as he looked into Sirius’s grey ones.

Sirius came to his sense and jolted, his eyes going wide and making a machine beep once.

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re okay. You’re okay” he ran a hand through his hair.

A nurse quickly entered the room, the beeping of the machine probably alerting them.

“Oh, you’re awake” she smiled. “I’m just going to check your vitals real quick.”

“What happened?” He asked.

“You, uh, you went into cardiac arrest during the game” Remus told him.

“Can I still play?”

Remus laughed “You just almost died and literally died multiple times and that’s what you ask. And yes you still can once you’re healed but you’ll be out for the rest of the season to recover and give you’re heart time to rest”

“Wait so I had a heart attack?”

“No. You’re heart stopped.”

“Why?” Sirius’s asked. Sticking his arm out for the nurse to pull out an IV that wasn’t needed anymore.

“You exercise too much love” Remus smiled at him.

“That can cause my heart to stop?” He asked the nurse.

“Yes. You overwork it when it beats too fast while you work out. Eventually it gives out.” She explained.

“Oh, can it happen to the other guys?” He asked, concerned.

“It’s rare.” The nurse shook her head. “And from the looks of it, the excessive exercise goes back to your childhood”

“Baise mes parents”

“Fuck your parents is correct. I’m pretty sure the guys are plotting a murder plan in the waiting room” he joked.

“Good”

“I’ll leave you two to plot a murder alone” the nurse smiled before leaving the room.

“I like her, she seems nice” Sirius told him, still a tiny bit loopy from the meds.

“Yeah she does seem nice” Remus smiled.

“Are you okay?” Sirius squeezed his hand.

“Don’t worry about me”

“Too bad I’m going too anyway.”

Remus smiled sadly. “You terrified me baby. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I’m right here, mon amour”

“I know you are. I just... realized I can’t live without you.”

“And you won’t have too. Now lean down so I can kiss you”

Remus giggled and leaned down, letting Sirius kiss him. He kissed back. It wasn’t a deep kiss but Remus poured everything into it. I love you. You scared me. I need you here with me. I love you more than anything. I can’t live without you.

“I love you” Sirius said when they pulled away.

“I love you too”

Remus sat back down as the doctor knocked on the door.

“You’re teams driving me insane.” He smiled.

“Yeah they do that a lot” Sirius told him.

“Alright, don’t let them hug you and mess up your stitches, I already told them that but I don’t think they’ll listen.”

Sirius nodded. “Am I allowed to sit the bed up. My backs hurting from laying down”

“Yes you can. Just not too far.” He told him before leaving to go get some of the team.

Remus helped him move the bed up. Kissing his forehead when he was sitting up.

“I love you” he muttered against it.

“Love you too” Sirius responded.

Remus knew he had told him that a lot today but if that was all he could said for the rest of his life he would mind.

A few minutes James, The Cubs, Dumo, Celeste, Natalie, and Lily burst into the room.

“Oh merci putain tu es en vie” James gasped.

“I am alive” Sirius laughed.

“If you die again I’ll kill you”

“That’s not at all how it works” Remus told him.

“I’ll make it work”

“We’re glad you’re okay. You scared us for a while there” Dumo told him.

“One could say you have us a heart attack” James smirked.

“Oh my god that was the worse joke I have ever heard in my life” Sirius groaned with a laugh.

“I think it was a pretty good one, si je le dis moi-même”

The girls all kissed his cheek and then scattered across the room to find a place to sit.

“So, what exactly happened?” Sirius asked them.

“You just looked...bad. Like you were pale and kept wincing and rubbing your chest. So I went to tell Remus to check to make sure you were okay and you completely collapsed.” James told him.

“Everyone was around you, Moody and Remus were trying to figure out what happened and the medics were taking forever. We screamed for them but they still took too long. Moody said you were in cardiac arrest and started CPR” Leo picked up.

“They made us go onto the ice so they could work on you. Moody and Coach were the only one allowed on the bench. Remus was freaking out and so was everyone else. The Hufflepuff team came over and we told them what happened. And then they wheeled you out on a stretcher” Logan continued.

“What does everyone know?”

“Just that it was you that it happened too. They were doing CPR on you when you were rushed out. They asked the other team what happened but they said it wasn’t their place to tell. Coach said they’ll have to release a statement in a few. He’ll come back and talk to you about it in a little.” Dumo told him.

“What treatment did I get?”

“You were on a ventilator for a litttle while they were trying to stabilize you.” Remus explained. “Once you were stable for a while they did a surgery to place an ICD in your chest. It’s a small device that will monitor your heartrate and heart beat. If something happens it will send a shock through your heart. I don’t know much else about it so the doctor will have to explain it.”

“But I can still play with it in?”

“Yes. You can still play.” Remus smiled.

“Good” he said with a nod.

“Why is your biggest concern hockey after you just died?” Dumo asked.

“Because it is”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Remus laughed, kissing his temple.

“When can I leave the hospital?”

The others shared looks.

“What? How long?”

“Cardiac arrest is really serious baby” Remus told him.

“How long?” He repeated firmly.

“A month”

“What? But I’m perfectly fine” he exclaimed.

“I know you are but that’s just for right now.” Remus told him. “But 40% of people die within a year after cardiac arrest”

Sirius threw his head back against the pillow.

“I’m sorry, baby”

“Fuck my parents”

“We have the murder planned” Kasey told him.

“You’re the one to kill them” Natalie added.

“Good”

“No one is killing anyone. But if it’s okay with you, we can tell people about it and the reason your heart stopped.” Remus told him.

“I’ll have to call Reg about it. Ask him about it or I can say that he was the favorite child so they didn’t do anything to him.”

Remus nodded. “You’re parents have to pay for what they did” he said as he moved the piece of hair that won’t stay out of his face.

“Yeah” The coversation was cut off as the nurse from before walked in.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“I’m okay, my chest is a little sore but it doesn’t like, hurt-hurt” he told her.

Everyone tensed before she responded with a nod.

“With the surgery and multiple rounds of CPR, you probably will be for a while. If it gets more than sore tell us right away” she said as she checked his blood pressure.

Sirius nodded and squeezed Remus’s hand, it was still tensed up. He tugged on it lightly. Remus stood up and kissed the corner of his mouth. Relaxing immediately.

“Alright, vitals are good. Dr. Hudson will be in soon to talk about further treatment.” She told him, closing the door as she left.

Sirius reaches for his necklace subconsciously, jolting forward when he couldn’t feel it.

“I have it. You took it off so it would break on the ice. Remember?” Remus pulled it out of his pocket.

Sirius nodded, sitting up to let Remus clasp it around his neck.

“Good thing you took it off. They would of had to cut it off it you hadn’t.”

Sirius nodded, relaxing as he fidgeted with it.

Dr. Hudson walked in a few moments later.

The team stood up, promising to be back later.

“Alright” he pulled up a chair. “So you’re going to be staying here for a month. Just so that we can monitor you and make sure that your ICD works like it should. If you go into cardiac arrest or have any other heart issues we’ll have to keep you hear longer. 40% of people discharged from the hospital after cardiac arrest die within a year.” He told them.

“So what do I do about hockey?” Sirius asked.

“That’s literally all you’re concerned about” Remus shook his head with a smile.

Dr. Hudson chuckled. “You’ll be able to play next year.”

“Next year” he exclaimed.

“Sorry but we have to make sure you won’t die again” he smiled at how upset he was.

“After you’re discharged from the hospital and you rest for 2 weeks you’ll be able to sit on the bench during practices and games.”

“Good I still get to yell at them” he smirked.

Remus and the doctor both laughed.

“Your Coach is going to be here in a few minutes. So I’ll leave you all to discuss what ever you need to discuss.”

They thanked him as he stood and left the room.

As sad, Coach Weasly entered a few minutes later with a guy in a suit. “This is Mr. Tela. He’s from the league and is going to make the formal statement” he told them.

Mr. Tela shook Remus’s hand before going to shake Sirius’s.

Sirius winced and sharply inhaled in pain when he at up and extended his arm. “Sorry, forgot I had stitches”

“Perfectly fine” Mr. Tela smiled.

“So what’s the statement going to be?” Sirius asked.

“We need to be careful to not not scare your fans. There’s already mass panic at the fact that Winters screamed that he was dying. And the fact that you where taken away with someone doing frantic CPRhas obviously made fans assume the worst.”

“When are you making the statement? Do I have to say anything or is the league going too?”

“The league will announce it. It’s been over 12 hours since it happened so we’ll have to announce it soon.”

Remus blinked. 12 hours. It felt like just minutes ago but at the same time it felt like years.

“What’s the statement going to say?” Remus asked.

“This is what we have for now. You two can add anything or ask for it to be removed.” He took out two pieces of paper that had the statement printed on it.

Gryffindor Lion Captain, 24 year old, Sirius Black collapsed during the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff game last night. The reason for the collapse was cardiac arrest. Black was quickly rushed to the hospital where they were able to revive him. He will be hospital for the next few months. Sadly, he will be unable to play until next year to make sure his heart will be able to stay stable. The reason for the cardiac arrest is unknown as of now.

“Wait why aren’t we telling them the reason for it?” Sirius asked.

“We weren’t sure if you would want it to be known yet.” Mr. Tela said. “If you would like the reason to be included we can add it.”

“I’ll have to talk to my brother about it. See if he wants everyone to know how shitty out parents are.”

Mr. Tesla nodded. “We’ll give you sometime to do that. Just call or text your coach when you’ve made a decision and we’ll come back in and talk about what exactly to say.”

“Thank you” Sirius thanked him.

They stood and left the room.

“Merde, I don’t have my phone”

“Here” Remus pulled it out of his pocket. “Grabbed it from your bag.”

“I love you” Sirius smiled, leaning over and kissing him.

“I love you too. Now call your brother.”

@lumosinlove

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

what do you say

summary: you never were the best at addressing your feelings with Matthew, and neither was he. 

warnings: mentions of smut, some steaminess, alcohol

word count: 4.7k

Your mother had always told you hindsight was 20/20 vison, but back then you just rolled your eyes and kept on complaining about how you regretted sending an embarrassing text to the guy you liked.

But now you knew what she meant. And the irony was not lost on you.

You should have made your friend tell you where she was taking you. You shouldn’t have let her pick your outfit for the evening, the lacy dark green bodysuit tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans a tad too revealing for your taste, even when paired with a jacket.

And you most definitely should have turned and walked out the door the moment you realized whose house party you were at.

“I’m leaving.” You stated firmly, turning to face Isabelle the moment you crossed into the apartment. Your back was to the crowd, and your friend shot you an innocent look before searching the crowd. “I thought you said this was a party by the guy you were seeing.”

“It is.” She looked a bit sheepish, and you raised a brow in question.

“Then why is half the Flames roster here?” It was pretty easy for you to recognize the players for two reasons. The only one you were willing to admit to was that you were a pretty big hockey fan and had dragged Isabelle to more than her fair share of games. Her sheepish smile grew, and you felt a wave of worry wash over you.

“What would you say if I told you he was on the team? And that I’m not just seeing him, but he’s kinda my boyfriend?”

You wanted to be annoyed, you really did. Annoyed that she didn’t tell you she was seeing a hockey player—not that you cared about his status, she just knew how much you loved the sport—and annoyed that she hadn’t mentioned her change in relationship status.

But that would make you a hypocrite.

See, a few months ago you had hooked up with Calgary’s very own Matthew Tkachuk. And then you kept hooking up. It was a no strings attached relationship that developed into a friends with benefits as a result of the sometimes hours of hanging out with him before actually hooking up with him. You hadn’t told Isabelle about it, because you knew things were too good to be true, and you had been right.

Because then you had to go and fall for the guy. To save yourself from having to explain why things couldn’t continue the way they were, you ended things with him. He tried to protest and salvage your relationship, but you thought the best thing for you would to be to cut him out of your life. It had been weeks since you had last seen him.

And now he was probably at this party, and you were going to have to spend your whole night avoiding him instead of getting to know your best friend’s new boyfriend.

“Who is he?” You settled on answering with, and if Isabelle saw the way all the color drained from your face, she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she seemed to find whoever she was searching for because a smile lit up her face and she was tugging you by the wrist into the party before you could make good on your threat of leaving.

“Noah! Hey!” She called, dropping your hand in favor of embracing the hockey player with a kiss and a hug. When she finally pulled away, she turned to face you with a grin, and her happiness did little to help the dread that was piling in the pit of your stomach. She introduced the two of you, and you had to pretend like you hadn’t heard so much about him from Matt.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Noah shook your hand, one of his arms swinging over Isabelle’s shoulders. “I was starting to think she didn’t want me to meet her friends.”

“If anything, she was hiding you from us.” You teased, keeping your gaze focused on him and forcing yourself to not search the party for any signs of the curly haired nuisance that had taken up residence in your mind rent free for so long.

“Protecting him from you, more like.” Isabelle shot back, earning laughs from both you and Noah. You rolled your eyes at her, and before you could come up with something to say back you were interrupted by someone calling Noah’s name and beckoning him over to the pong table.

“If you want to get a drink, everything’s in the kitchen right through there.” Noah told you and you nodded, silently cursing Isabelle for abandoning you for her boyfriend. You were stuck between deciding whether or not to follow them to the cup pong table, but you figured if you were going to spend the night wondering whether or not you were going to run into Matthew, you needed something to drink.

The kitchen was mostly abandoned, and quickly spotted the cups, alongside vodka and some mixers. You were in the middle of pouring the cranberry juice into your cup when you heard someone enter the kitchen, but you were so distracted by trying to make your drink strong but still palpable that you didn’t look up.

“What, not doing shots tonight?” You would recognize that voice anywhere. Smug, cocky, and somehow endearing all at the same time. You stayed facing the counter as if that would make him go away.

“Last time I did shots I had to sneak out of some guy’s apartment the next morning.” You shot back, cursing yourself for how easily you fell back into your banter with him. It had always been too easy with him.

“You didn’t have to run off, I would have made you breakfast.” There was a lightness in his tone that you honestly didn’t expect, since considering the last time you saw him you were telling him you didn’t want to sleep with him anymore.

“Matthew.” You warned lowly, finally turning on your heel to look up at the boy. You kind of regretted it, though, because you were reminded with just how handsome he was and how much you missed being around him. You didn’t miss the sneaking out of his apartment or the feeling of wanting more with someone who only called your name once the sun set. “That’s not what we do. Did.” You were quick to catch yourself, because your rendezvous were in the past tense and would stay that way for as long as you could help it.

Matt’s grin faltered for a second before his cocky front was back up. It hurt to watch; you knew that he was so much more than how he was portrayed in the media. Yeah, he was a pest and there was no denying that, but he was also incredibly kind and ridiculously funny. But that was part of his danger, funny guys were always the ones to watch out for because one minute you’re laughing and the next your pants are on the floor and you’re in his bed.

At least, that’s what happened with you and him.

“Is this new?” He questioned, and you only knew he was talking about your bodysuit because his hand slipped underneath your jacket and was brushing over the material at your side. His gaze was flicking back from the garment to you and it took all your willpower to not melt into him right then and there.

You gripped his wrist, moving his hand away from you. He separated with no argument, and that almost made you want to scream even more. Of course, he had to be a gentleman and take being rejected so easily. If he had pitched a fit, it would have made ending things with him so much easier for you.

“It doesn’t matter.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but you couldn’t meet his gaze, not when he was grinning so devilishly handsomely and especially not when his simple touch brought back memories of your past nights spent together. Matt sighed, moving away from you to lean backwards against the kitchen island while you stayed rooted in your spot by the counter.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, and it was honestly a valid question. When you first started your whole no strings attached arrangement, you had made a rule to not mix friend groups. It was why Isabelle had no idea you had a past with Matthew and Noah had no idea who you were. You had some close calls, definitely—that one time Johnny had barged into Matt’s apartment while you were there and you heard him teasing Matt about having a girl in his room still made you flushed and you hadn’t even technically been caught.

“I’m here with a friend, apparently she’s dating your teammate, Noah.” You explained, finishing your sentence with a long sip of your drink and a wince. It was definitely stronger than you meant it to be but at this rate you didn’t care. Matt’s laugh was loud in the kitchen, and you hadn’t realized it before, but the other people that had been in there with you had long since left.

“That’s ironic, considering we used to—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” You interrupted. Your threat was empty and both of you knew there was honestly nothing you could do to stop him, but he laughed at you anyways and held his hands up in innocence.

“I won’t say it, but you know, you could always come back to mine after tonight.” He smirked. You hated to admit it, but the offer was tempting. You hesitated, and as the seconds ticked by since he made the proposition his smug grin only grew.

“I can’t, Matthew. We ended things, and let’s just be civil for the sake of our friends.” You reasoned, and once again his expression faltered. Only, this time, he didn’t go back to being smug and instead studied you for several tense moments of silence.

“No, you ended things. I was perfectly fine the way things were.” His tone was colder than what you were used to hearing from him, he wasn’t harsh, but it was definitely clear that something was wrong. You chuckled dryly at him, the comment irking you because you were not fine at all with the way things were.

“We’re just friends now, nothing more.” You told him decisively before slipping past him and back into the rest of the party.

Oh, how you would come to regret saying that.

Admittedly, you were never really good at telling Matthew no. But now, with this whole friendship angle you had given him, he was taking things to a new level. He started texting you more often, claiming that friends had conversations. And as much as it hurt you to do so, you were responding to each and every one of his texts without fail. You figured, fine, he’s not doing any damage through the phone and there’s no way you’d accidently end up in his bed if he stayed in his place on the other side of Calgary.

But then he showed up at your apartment.

“Matthew—” You started to whine as soon as you opened the door and found him standing on the other side, heart skipping a beat as you catalogued just how attractive he looked. It wasn’t fair that he always looked so incredibly handsome, whether he was in his game day suit or a pair of sweatpants like he was currently.

“Friends can have dinner together and watch a movie.” He grinned innocently at you from your doorway. He had a point, but you didn’t think that applied to people who had seen each other naked.

“I’m not sleeping with you.” You narrowed your eyes at him, stepping aside to let him in. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but you weren’t one for making good decisions when it came to Matthew. He just laughed at you, making himself comfortable in your apartment.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no, but that’s not what I’m here for.” He snickered, grinning at you despite the frown you wore as you watched him warily. He had found your living room, and quickly took up residence on the center of your couch, arms spread on the back, so you’d be within his reach no matter where you sat. He did it on purpose, if the self-satisfied grin he wore told you anything. “I’ll even pay for takeout to make it up to you.”

And you were never one to pass up a free dinner, so an hour later Matt was still at your apartment, empty Chinese food containers on your coffee table and a movie of your choice on the television. You had started on the cushion farthest from him, an action that did not go unnoticed. He sighed, assuring you with a grin that he didn’t bite, unless, of course, you wanted him to.

He earned a shove to the shoulder for that comment.

Calgary was cold in the winter, and your apartment was really quite cheap, so it wasn’t long before you were shivering. You pulled the blanket that was folded on the back of the couch over your legs, warming only a small amount.

You let out a surprised yelp as Matt’s arms wound around your waist and he yanked you across the couch and into his side. He was laughing at your reaction and you simply glared at him. His arm moved out from around you and back to resting in its previous position on the top of the couch, but you weren’t quick to move away from him.

“I’m cold, and you have a blanket, so we can share.” He stated, and you rolled your eyes.

“You could use your words, you know.” You shot back, keeping your gaze focused on the screen and hoping that Matt was doing the same so he couldn’t see the smile you were trying to hide. It was moments like these, where he was being an adorable pest, that reminded you just why you fell for him the way you did.

The thing with Matthew was that he was always able to get you exactly where he wanted. Or maybe, you were just so far gone for him that when he said jump you asked how high. Either way, as the movie resumed, and his hand found its way from the back of the couch to brushing against your shoulder absentmindedly, you found yourself leaning into him slightly. His touch was electrifying, and you felt an undeniable pull towards him. You could handle it; you were an adult and could stop yourself from jumping his bones.

But then the movie played a sex scene you didn’t remember it having. And if you had known it was there, you would have picked something else. Matt chuckled lowly beside you, and you felt the vibrations through your whole body.

The scene brought back memories of the dozens of times you were in bed with Matt and how he’d make you feel like you were on top of the world. Subconsciously, your thighs clenched together at the memory of how it felt to have his head between your legs, momentarily forgetting that he could feel you shift from where you were sitting pressed against him.

“Tense?” He questioned, and you whipped your head around to look at him and his ever-present shit-eating grin. God, you hated how handsome he was. The curls, the light scruff he had been wearing as of late, his playful blue eyes—he was everything you could ever want in a guy, not even mentioning his whole cocky persona that did wonders for you. It was like switch had been flipped inside you as you studied him, a ghost of your past relationship taking control.

You either really hated yourself and had no self-control or it had been longer than you thought since the last time you had been with someone because before you even knew it you had launched yourself into Matt’s lap. As soon as you were straddling his thighs, his hands came to rest on your waist and yours went to his curls the same way they had dozens of times before.

There was a split second where nothing happened and you simply looked at each other, and you saw what looked like hesitation in his eyes. But it was gone as quick as it appeared as your lips landed heavily on his.

Kissing him was familiar, like coming home, and that thought terrified you so instead of dwelling on it too long you focused on grinding down Matthew and slipping your tongue in his mouth. He was intoxicating, and you wondered if it was really such a bad idea if you reignited your previous no strings attached arrangement, feelings be damned.

It was a horrible idea. But you were never one for making the best choices, and you really didn’t feel like starting right then as you rolled your hips against his once more.

But then Matt pulled back with a groan, like he couldn’t believe he was making himself separate. His hands were firm on your waist, grip tightening just a bit more as you raised a brow at him questioningly.

“You said no sex, and I don’t want to cross that line.” He explained, and you leaned back, studying him for any signs of insincerity. This was your Matthew, sweet, caring, and thoughtful. No matter how the media framed him, you saw the man that gushed about his mom and sister to you for a half hour one night.

And though you had been the one to start things, you were glad that he was respecting the boundaries you had set in place when he arrived. Though, it wasn’t doing anything for the continuously growing feelings you were harboring for him.

Or the growing ache between your legs.

But you had to get over him—and getting under him wasn’t going to be any help.

“Thank you, Matty.” You whispered, and his responding smile, albeit tighter than it should be, warmed your heart. You climbed off his lap, settling into your previous seat to try and watch the rest of the movie. Admittedly, it was a little difficult, with the way you both were restlessly shifting to try and get comfortable.

“Okay, this was fun, but I have to go.” Matthew announced, a lightness to his tone as he jumped up from the couch. The movie wasn’t over, there was at least another forty minutes left, but he had already found his coat and was shrugging it on by the time you came to your senses and caught up with him.

“Why are you leaving so suddenly?” Your question was met with a chuckle as he stopped by the door.

“I’ve got to go take a cold shower.” He teased. Your face flushed at his words, gaze flicking down to his crotch to see he that was, in fact, half hard from your brief make out session on the couch. You flushed even more when you realized justwhere exactly you had been looking. He chuckled again, and you knew you had been caught. Just before he could slip out the door, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, the action making your eyes flutter shut for a moment on their own accord. And then he was gone, and you were left wondering just what the hell had happened.

But you knew one thing for certain—a cold shower sounded like a really good idea.

As weird as that night had been, it was the first of many. You found yourself back in your normal routine of going to his after games, except this time there was no hooking up and instead you would watch a movie, or you would cook dinner for him. Neither of you made a move, besides Matt’s obvious flirting and the quick kisses he’d press to your cheek or the top of your head when parting. And then he started asking you to go with him for coffee sometimes, which morphed into meeting him for lunch.

You were in unknown territory. Up until then, your relationship was clearly defined as being set in the bedroom and mostly physical. Now, you were spending time together in the light of day and in pubic settings where there was no chance of Matt getting lucky. It did nothing to help your feelings, it felt like you were dating and doing things the right way instead sneaking out of his bed every other day when he was home.

All these new developments in your relationship with Matthew was why you had easily agreed to meet him for lunch.

The restaurant was a little fancier than the casual places you usually frequented with him, but you didn’t mind. It was a bit packed, considering it was the lunch rush on a Saturday, but eventually you spotted his familiar mop of curls.

Except, he wasn’t at the table alone, and when he stood to greet you, the two other people sitting at the table turned. You recognized them instantly, and you were certain that the blood had never drained from your face faster.

Much like you should have done at that party weeks ago, you turned on your heel and promptly left the restaurant.

Your feet were carrying you outside fast, but Matt had the advantage of not only being several inches taller than you, but also a professional athlete, so you were only a few feet away from the door when he had caught up to you and was calling your name.

“Why the fuck are your parents in there!” You spun around, facing a guilty looking Matthew. His hands were raised like he was afraid you’d run off—even further—if he moved too quickly. Your heart was pounding in your chest, there was no way you could meet his parents and still carry on as if nothing was wrong. As if you weren’t falling for him harder and harder with each passing day.

“I should have said something about them coming—”

“Yeah, you think?” You cut him off with a scoff, not believing that was what he chose to lead with. Not an ‘I’m sorry.’ or ‘I didn’t know they were coming and by the time I saw they were here my phone was dead and I couldn’t warn you.’ The second one was highly unlikely, but you had a hard time thinking that he would drop a bomb like this on you without any heads up.

“It’s just, they were in town and I wanted you to meet them, but I didn’t know if you would show up.” He scratched back of his neck awkwardly, his gaze fluttering all around but never landing on you directly. And, okay, that was a lot to process, but you could only focus on his actual words and not any deeper meaning behind him.

“And what, introduce myself by saying ‘Hi, I’m the girl that used to sleep with your son, but now we don’t do that anymore except for that one time I made out with him and he shot me down.’ Is that what I should do?” You knew you were being dramatic, but you didn’t care in the moment. What mattered was that Matt realized that him bringing you to meet his parents was not a good idea. You were still trying to figure out where you stood with Matt, you assumed that you were just friends, but his actions completely blew that idea out of the water.

Annoyingly, Matt was not as panicked as you were. Instead, his grin only grew as you ranted and by the time you had finished, he was full-on laughing. You pouted, swatting his shoulder playfully to get him to stop. Your heart was fluttering at the sound, and that wasn’t very helpful in trying to figure out what was going on.

“I mean, you could say that. But I would just give them your name. And I wouldn’t say I rejected you, you’re the one that said no sex.” His grin was bright, and you only pouted further at him. His expression faltered, morphing into a more serious one as he gestured with his head towards the restaurant. “Are you going to come inside?”

“What are we doing, Matthew? Because if you’re not in this to start something, then I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay.” You sighed, a bit defeated and a bit exhausted at not knowing where you stood with him. His brow furrowed, as if he was confused, before he smiled and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, tugging you into his chest.

“I wanted you to be my girlfriend months ago, but then you said you didn’t want to sleep with me anymore, and I figured that was your way of saying you weren’t interested.” He mumbled into the hair on the top of your head as he kept you pressed into him. You went to interrupt, probably scream something incoherent about how you wanted something more back then, too, but he continued. “And when you showed up at that party, it kind of felt like I got a second chance, you know? I let you walk out the first time when I started things by hooking up, so I started hanging out with you without sex and somehow it was even better.”

“Matthew…” You breathed, pushing away from him so you could look up at him. It was too much, hearing him say all these sweet things you’d been wanting to hear for months without being able to look into his eyes.

“Don’t get me wrong the sex was amazing, but I love hanging out with you.” He joked, and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he was worried that you were taking his confession wrong. You chuckled at him, and it was then that you realized that you had a tight grip on his shirt, and he snickered when he glanced down and saw your white knuckles. “What do you say? Be my girlfriend finally?”

“I like hanging out with you, too.” You started slowly, trying to wade through all the feelings Matt had thrown you at you in such a short amount of time. “I’d like hanging out with you a bit more if you didn’t spring your parents on me.”

He tilted his head back and laughed at that, and you just admired him. You briefly entertained the idea of what it would have been like if he had just simply asked you on a date when you first met at the bar, instead of inviting you back to his apartment, but you dismissed the thought. That would’ve been too easy, and Matthew was anything but easy.

You let go of his shirt, hands moving up to cup his face and tug his head down to meet you for a kiss. His hands gripped your waist, steadying you as he kissed you back with a sweetness that had never quite been there before. It made sense, you were entering a new phase with Matt, the kisses would be better.

“My parents are waiting for us.” Matt mumbled against your lips, still unable to get himself to tear away from you. You grinned, linking your hand through his before he led you back inside. He kept glancing at you over his shoulder as he walked, his bright grin landing on you and each time you squeezed his hand.

When you finally got back to the table, his parents were still sitting there, and though they clearly were a little confused, they still smiled brightly at you.

“Sorry, we’re all good now.” Matt apologized. And though you were a little flushed from embarrassment, you couldn’t help the smile you were wearing as Matt leaned over and pressed a kiss to your temple. His parents shot him a confused look and you took the chance to extend your hand out for his parents to shake.

“Hi, I’m Matt’s girlfriend.”

[jason-the-mommas-boy]

That is Not a Boy (Jason Voorhees x Reader)

Summary: You’re the new babysitter for a boy named Jason, but the house is empty...

Word Count: 1.8K 

A/N: My friends and I were watching The Boy a few months back and a few of us thought, “what if The Boy but Jason Voorhees?”, so this is what this is. It’s also a gift to @kuro-the-phantom-art ! Also a big thank you to @yourlocalslasher for reading some of this fic over too! I’d like to write more for this, but it’s essentially up to you guys.

TW: Kidnapping and Jason not realizing personal boundaries are a thing. 

‘“So, Mrs. Voorhees-” 

“Ms. Voorhees if you please, I left my husband quite a while ago.” 

You paused, biting your lip as you brought yourself to make eye contact with the old woman that was sitting across the table from you. “My apologies.” You wait for her to nod before continuing. “So, Ms. Voorhees, who am I exactly going to be babysitting?”

A smile painted on her face and she let out a sigh. “While I’m gone, you’ll be taking care of my son, Jason. He’s a good boy, I assure you, he’s just really...shy.” 

You tilted your head, a subconscious movement that portrays your slight confusion. You definitely haven’t seen a little boy around the mansion, and while it was a big grand place, certainly a mother would want their kid to meet their caretaker that was going to be there for the next few weeks. You really didn’t hear anything that would suggest that someone else was there with you two besides the few creaks and moans that sounded from the walls. That was normal stuff though, assuming that the place was as old as it looked. 

“Is he...er, Jason not around right now?” You asked, trying your best to keep a polite tone. 

Ms. Voorhees glances to the side of the room briefly before shaking her head. “He’s very much here. Let him introduce himself when he’s ready, I’d hate to overwhelm him...He’s not used to company.” 

You kept your mouth shut as the old woman stood up from her chair and instead you bow your head to silently tell her you understood. To be fair, you really didn’t. Most parents would make their kids meet their babysitter before they would even leave, but it may be best not to push. If Jason was truly the type to be overwhelmed by meeting one person, there was no use in forcing an introduction if he was going to run away. 

Ms. Voorhees placed a folder in front of you, resting her hand on your shoulder. “I’m not asking much for you to do, Jason doesn’t need much watching over, but it helps all the same.” She pats your head before taking a step out of your personal bubble. 

“So, I’m here just to make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble?” 

“Precisely.” She smiles, tapping the yellow folder she had set in front of you. “He can be forgetful sometimes so that’s why I left you a list of rules and his usual schedule. Please make sure that he follows them.” 

You pick at the folder Pamela Voorhees left you to review over as you recall the afternoon before leaving it on the table to go in pursuit of a kid. There has been no physical sign that anyone else was there with you, and it was really making you question if there was anyone for you to watch over at all. 

Well, at least you were going to get paid for doing nothing if no kid shows up. 

The place was a bit creepy though. Long hallways and odd creaks from the walls were very prominent, adding to the creepy atmosphere, but at the very least the main rooms like the kitchen and your main bedroom didn’t have that lingering feeling to it. It may have been your anxiety of being alone in a place so big, but you were sure someone was watching you. You could have been wrong on your assumption that the person you were going to be taking care of was not actually here with you, but no matter how long you searched, there was absolutely no one.

It was around evening when you decided to give yourself a break after walking around for so long, you had a good layout of how the house was and that was enough for the moment. You decided it was best to make dinner for yourself when you passed by the kitchen, the little pain in your stomach begging for you to eat something. 

You take a step on the cold, smooth tile floor and glance around in the cabinets, wondering what to make. You have no idea when you’re going to get the next grocery trip, as you’re going to leave to check the thick folder’s components for the morning, so it may be best to play it safe until you have a good grip on how the schedule was going to work out. 

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich sounded good right now. Something simple to make, didn’t take too much of the food supplies, and would easily make you full with two sandwiches at most. Agreeing to the conclusion you made, you reach up into the cabinets to look for a decent sized jar of peanut butter. 

And that’s when you felt it. The eerie presence of something behind you. Something large that was looming over your figure. 

You didn’t have time to turn around and react because two incredibly strong hands pick you up and lift you off the floor before you could. You weren’t even able to get a good look or understanding on what was going on before you were forced to flail about over the stranger’s shoulder. 

Of course you screamed at the man to let you go, kicking and flailing at the great mass of the body that seemed to make the creature. Nothing phased him though, no matter how hard you hit. That didn’t mean you weren’t going to stop trying though. 

Among your little fit, you did take note that you were still in the mansion. You felt the bob of the man’s shoulders as he had walked up the stairs. He wasn’t taking you outside, he was keeping you inside. Some part of your brain was stupid enough to think that maybe this was Jason, the kid you were supposed to be taking care of. But this was no kid at all, this was a full grown adult. This was a man that was taking you against your will and was carrying you  like you were just a sack of flour. 

When you opened your eyes again and letting your voice rest, you noticed that your kidnapper was slowing down his pace. You were in a bedroom that you didn’t see on your home-made house tour. It was mostly empty except for a bookshelf full of books and little trophies that you couldn’t make out. And without warning, you were set down gently on a mattress, the man’s harsh grip still stuck on your torso. Was this so you couldn’t just get up and run away? You don’t think it was even possible to outrun him.  

Blinking the blurriness away, you finally get a good look at your captor...who was oddly enough wearing a hockey mask, which prevented you from seeing his face. He was a large man in all ways possible, his strength showing off at any possible moment through his body movements.  He removes one of his hands from you to grab something beneath the bed you were sitting on.

You glance around for a moment, trying to think of a way out. You could kick him, but you might as well not get a reaction from him since he was practically unbothered the entire time he carried you up to this spot. You may just end up hurting your foot instead in all honesty.

You glance around, trying to look for something to give you an idea or even a hint at how you could get out of this. You’re sitting on the bed, there’s a few potted plants scattered here and there, and just an assortment of boxes scattered everywhere. And that’s when you caught the name carved in on the headboard. The letters spelled out Jason, which told you that the man that was in front of you was most likely the person Ms. Voorhees was talking about. How did such a big guy hide around for so long and how come you didn’t notice him at all before? 

Maybe sweet talking your way out of this crazy guy’s grasp was the choice to make and just take a run for it and never return. 

You take in a quiet yet shaky breath. “Jason.” 

His head darts up to look at you, tilting it to the side to convey that he was listening. So this actually was Jason Voorhees. 

You force a fake smile, shuddering when he moves his hand on you to your legs, pressing on them gently. “Jason, sweetie, I-I’m just your babysitter-” 

You shut your mouth almost immediately upon seeing him pull out a collar from beneath his bed. No, it was a leash in his hand. Oh god, uh, the attention he was holding on you was like daggers piercing into your soul. 

Jason stands up and traces his fingers along your jawline, forcing a shudder out of you. He drags his touch to your throat, very gently rubbing the sides before securing the leash around your neck, tight but not too tight to make it impossible to breathe and talk comfortably. 

It dawns on you maybe, just maybe, you weren’t brought here to babysit. You were here to be his pet.

It’s not a comfortable realization to think about at all while you watch Jason wrap the end of the leash around his hand a few times. More than likely to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to run away from him. 

But yet at the same time, there’s a calmness to this idea. If anything Ms. Voorhees has told you about her son, he was curious and shy. Then again, forcing you to sit in his bedroom and tying a leash around your neck was anything but bashful. 

His eyes are staring you down, as if trying to peer into your inner soul from the outside. Surely if his mother trusted you, so could he? 

He tugs on your leash to test the waters, seeing if it pulled a reaction out of you or not. Satisfied when you don’t do anything, he joins you on the bed, rolling you both to your sides so you could fit comfortably on the small bed. 

 Your chest feels constricted, you can’t really breathe, and there’s an iron-grip keeping you from escaping a crazy man’s embrace. Jason rests his head atop of yours and pulls you closer. 

You wait.

And wait…

And nothing else happens. 

You curse to yourself, while this situation was less than ideal, at least all that was happening was that you were being smothered by a giant man. 

Maybe if you can force yourself to calm down and get some rest and could maybe slip out of the tight hug in the middle of the night and get out of there. Yeah, you could do that. 

You just had to play the waiting game. 

[bordeleaubeau]

when worlds collide - ryder donovan

chapter one wc: 5167

“and y/n, you’re paired with ryder.” mrs. wilson smiles as she reads off the final pairing of partners, and you can feel the color draining from your face. you turn to your left, looking over a few rows towards where ryder donovan sat. a near stranger right now, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be in a few days. “okay. so i just ask that everyone pairs up with their assigned partner and you sit together, and then i’ll go over the rules, got it?” 

the once silent classroom is then filled with the noises of chairs screeching against the tiled floor. your classmate, juliana who sits next to you, lets out a sigh. “well, good luck with ryder, y/n. you’ve sure hit the jackpot. make sure no girls steal your partner, okay?”

you give her a look as she grabs her book bag, standing up from her desk that was right besides yours. “yeah well, chances are i’m gonna be doing all the work. so yeah, lucky me right?” you roll your eyes. juliana gives you one last pitiful look before she’s off to her partner. 

you’re reaching down to pick up the strap of your book bag, but you glance up and see the blonde headed boy heading over in your direction already. you let your bookbag fall to the floor, and in a few short seconds ryder is taking the spot juliana had once sat in. 

“i’m y/-”

ryder cuts you off, a half smirk on his face. “i know who you are, smarty pants. no need to introduce yourself.” he says, placing his book bag down on his desk. “man, what even is this project.”

and it seems mrs. wilson hears him from across the room. “good question, mr. donovan. so as you’ve observed, i’ve placed you in male to female partnerships for this project. and i know you’ll all probably be ready to kill me after this, but i think it’s going to open your eyes to the real world.” you and ryder are already exchanging nervous glances with each other. “the baby project.” immediately, there are groans from all around the room, and your teacher starts to talk over them. “my job is to basically teach you to stay abstinent. and there’s no better way to teach you than this project. you and your partner will be a couple for the next two weeks - you can be ‘separated,’ ‘divorced,’ whatever you want. but you’re taking care of a child together. you have to maintain the ‘happiness’ of the child whenever he or she may start to cry by using a designated key. but failure to stop the crying after multiple attempts will result in an automatic five percentage deduction from your grade. now, choose between yourselves to decide who comes to pick up your baby.”

you and ryder are both blankly staring at each other, mouths dropped open wide. you’re sure nearly every girl in the class is jealous of you and for reasons you can quite clearly tell. ryder was attractive, smart, and a crazy level of popular. but that’s what you get as your school’s hockey team captain, right?

“uh,” ryder mumbles, eyes glancing down at the pencil he’s fumbling in his hand. “i’ll go pick up, the uh-”

“the doll, ryder. it’s not real. no need to get so spooked out,” you cut him off, letting out a huff as you lean back in the chair. ryder wordlessly nods and gets up from his seat and goes up to the front of the room. 

you’re minding your own business, pulling your phone out of your pocket when you feel a tap on your shoulder. you turn to see keira bradley, the captain of the girl’s lacrosse team. “so, y/n,” she smiles sweetly, placing her hand on your shoulder. you don’t have the heart in you to shrug it off, even if you’ve spoken maybe three words to the girl in all of high school. “cute outfit today! that color blue really brings out your skin tone. well, anyway, i was wondering to you maybe wanna switch part-”

“not happening, keira,” you hear ryder’s voice, and for once you’re grateful for it. keira lets out a huff. “nice try, though.” 

when keira turns back around, you look over at ryder. “what, wanna stick with a partner that’ll end up doing the whole project for you? strategic, donovan. real strategic.” you mumble, leaning back in your seat once again. 

“that’s not what-“ ryder sighs. “i just don’t think we should switch. mrs. wilson gave us our partners for a reason. but anyway, i think we have a girl, and then this is our worksheet for her name and stuff.”

you take the paper from ryder’s grasp, glancing over the questions you have to answer throughout your time with the baby. at the top, you write down yours and ryder’s names, stopping when there’s a spot for your baby’s name. “what do you wanna name her?” 

“uhh, what about, uh just saylor?” ryder looks up at you for approval after his suggestion of the pretty name. you shrug, writing down ‘just saylor’ down on your paper. “oh come on, smart ass,” ryder lets out a laugh, grabbing your pencil and paper away and erasing the ‘just’ you had written. you see his eyes lingering on the last name you had written for your fake baby. “hey, i like that last name.” he smirks, referring to the fact that you had written donovan.

“you did say ‘just saylor,’” you mock ryder, a soft smirk on your face as your eyes go back up to your teacher standing in the front of the room, trying your very hardest at ignoring the blush on your cheeks.

“so!” mrs. wilson exclaims, regaining attention from your class. “i don’t expect you guys to be together twenty-four seven. that’s not realistic as high schoolers. but i’d hope you both put in effort. maybe one of you has the baby one day, the other has it another and you alternate. but you have fourteen days.” ryder sighs, his hand raising and waiting for mrs. wilson to nod in his direction. “yes, ryder.”

“mrs. wilson, i have hockey like, every day. and games. home and away. i’d feel bad leaving y/n to do all of that.” you hate all of the eyes that turn to look at you. normally, you loved mrs. wilson and you looked forward to her class. but right now? you were ready to drop dead. as if the looks from the girls weren’t deadly enough already. they’d kill to be in your position. 

mrs. wilson smiles at you sweetly, and you know you’re in for a treat. “well, miss l/n is a sweet girl. i’m sure she wouldn’t mind going to a few of your games, right y/n?”

you force a smile, “right, mrs. wilson.” 

“but, ryder, i do appreciate your dedication to your team,” mrs. wilson adds on before she looks back up at the clock. “we can end here for the day. if you aren’t familiar with your partner, get to know them. if not, feel free to do whatever with your free time.”

ryder puts your project worksheet in his binder and you put your pencil away, leaving you to simply tap your fingers against your desk seeing as there wasn’t a point in taking out your phone. 

“so,” ryder speaks up pulling your attention away from your desk. “i can have her for the night. we had practice this morning so i can take care of her. and then you can just meet me at my locker tomorrow morning and we can switch off, and then you can go to my game tomorrow night and we can switch. how does that sound?” 

if you’re being honest, you’re skeptical. sure, you’ve talked to ryder here and there throughout your four years of school together, but as ryder got more and more popular the less and less the two of you talked. but you didn’t really have a choice - and you never really did talk in the first place. you didn’t even think he really knew who you were let alone your name.

“yeah, that sounds good. it shouldn’t be a problem.”

ryder gives you a smile just as the bell rings signalling the end of your class. “great. i’ll see you tomorrow morning then, y/n.” ryder picks up the baby carrier your fake doll is in and he slings his bookbag over his shoulder. you watch as he walks out, meeting up with a few of his teammates while you’re left to wallow in the thoughts of what’s going to be the worst two weeks of your life. 

-----------

“so you’re telling me you got paired with the ryder donovan. for a baby project. where he’s literally your baby daddy!” kennedy has no sense of an indoor voice as she basically screams in the cafeteria, her eyes wide and her palms pressed flat down on the table. “y/n! this is huge!” 

you roll your eyes at your best friend as you take a sip from your water. “you’re ridiculous, kenna. you sure you don’t wanna trade places with me? it’s just a project. it’ll be over in two weeks and then he’ll forget i ever even existed.” 

“or! or, you two realize you’re meant to be and you fall in love, just like you were always destined to be.” kennedy lets out a sigh of bliss, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she gazes past your body with a soft smile on her face. 

“classic ken. hopeless romantic, as per usual,” josie says from beside you. you nod at her before looking back at kennedy who’s now pouting. 

“sorry i’m the optimistic one out of all of us. someone has to be,” the blonde mumbles, ducking her head as she continues to eat her food. 

you let out a sigh. of course you didn’t intend to make her feel bad, but sometimes kennedy got into her own head and made up her own fantasies. you would know, seeing as you had dealt with it since you were eight years old. “kenny, i just don’t wanna get my hopes up. with a boy like ryder, i’m lucky if i even end up as his friend after this whole thing is over. time will tell, alright? but until then, i need you girls with me at his hockey games.” 

kennedy’s eyes widen right away and you smile, knowing you’d get that reaction out of her. “like-like, logan anderson’s games too?” she sputters out, the fork in her hand falling onto the lunch table.

josie cracks up, “he plays on the hockey team, doesn’t he ken? and because he’s ryder’s best friend chances are when we wait for ryder after the game, logan will be with him too, and you can finally make your move.”

“yeah, you’re funny.” kennedy mumbles. “as if i’d ever make a move on logan? you’re funny, jose. really funny.” 

“oh come on, kenny! you two would be adorable. and if your far fetched fantasy of ryder and i getting together comes true, imagine all of the double dates we could go on!” you exclaim, your hand reaching across the wooden lunch table to rest on kennedy’s arm. she finally begins to smile. “there’s that smile!”

“okay, we’ll see, okay? just, it’s logan. i don’t wanna make a fool out of myself.” she admits sheepishly.

josie lets out a sigh, “well we’ll make sure you don’t and you’ll get the boy.”

-----------

later that night, you’re sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner with your mom, dad and your brother, william. “so, honey, how was school?” your mom asks, looking up at you from across the table.

you shrug, “well, i have a baby.” you say straight up, causing both of your parents to nearly start choking on their food. your dad goes to open his mouth to give you a piece of his mind, but you beat him to it. “please don’t freak. it’s a fake baby for my child development class. i’m partnered up with ryder donovan.”

your dad blows out a breath at the mention of ryder’s name, as he was the head coach for denfeld’s hockey team - aka east’s rival school. why you went to east, you couldn’t quite say. “now that’s something,” your father admits, mumbling down towards his plate. “so, tell us more. where’s the baby?”

“we’re doing a rotating schedule with it. he has it one day and then we’ll switch off. speaking of which, ryder needs me to go to their game tomorrow night so when i get the baby tomorrow i can give her to him that night,” you speak, looking at your dad for his reaction. you can’t quite read it.

whenever denfeld played east you always told your dad you were rooting for his team, but in reality you were actually rooting for your school. but you wouldn’t tell him that. but tomorrow night, now you would really have to root for east seeing as you wouldn’t want a grumpy ryder - and logan - after the game.

“well that’s gonna be something,” your little brother, william, spoke up from beside you. “y/n, it’s your turn for dishes tonight, by the way.”

after you finish eating and putting away all the dishes, you go up to your bedroom to see you have a few snapchats from none other than ryder donovan himself. you sit down on your bed and situate yourself before pressing on his name.

‘saylor misses her mommy’ was across one of the photos, where ryder had a forced pout on his face as he held your fake child. another one had ‘she won’t stop crying’ with his hand in the middle of running through his hair. finally there was one of him smiling, ‘just kidding, she finally stopped:)’ across it. 

you snap back a picture of yourself smiling with a thumbs up, ‘you’re a natural dono. if our baby is still in one piece by tomorrow morning i’ll be surprised’.

ryder sends back a photo of his mouth dropped open, ‘not cool, y/n/n. but anyway, what’s your number? it’s easier talking about this over text, not snap.’

you send ryder your phone number, and only a short few seconds later you get a text from an unknown number.

(218)-xxx-xxxx hey it’s ryder 

y/n:  i couldn’t have figured that out on my own or anything

rydes dono:  oh shut up. i just wanted to check up on my baby mama 

y/n:  i am not your baby mama, donovan.

rydes dono: well, you kinda are. anyway, meet me at my locker at 7? you know where it is right?

y/n: how could i miss it, you’ve got your own fan club of girls at your locker every morning.

rydes dono: oh lighten up, they all annoy me anyway. clara is bugging me to shoot around with her, so i’ll talk to you later?

y/n: yeah for sure.

to say the least, you fall asleep with a smile on your face and you pretty much wake up to it still spread across your face. you roll over, turning your alarm off before scrolling through your phone where you see you have a text message from ryder. 

rydes dono: good morning y/n/n, remember, meet me at my locker 

y/n: morning dono. really think i forget? or do you wanna get rid of saylor that bad

rydes dono:  just thought you’d forget.

you roll your eyes with a smile even though ryder can’t see you, and you leave it at that. you throw on a pair of black leggings and a baggy umd quarter zip sherpa along with a pair of low top converse. you grab your bookbag from the corner of your room and start to head downstairs, grabbing your car keys from the island counter in the kitchen.

“william! let’s go!” you yell, and only a mere few seconds later you hear the fifteen year old running down the stairs in the middle of fixing his tie that he had to wear on game day. 

“sorry, sorry,” william mumbles, looking up at your figure where you’re impatiently waiting for him. “okay, let’s go. what are you waiting for?”

you give your little brother a look before he’s following you out of the house and down to your car. you take the short ten minute drive to school, taking a five minute delay to get caribou for yourself and william, not bothering to get any for kennedy and josie as they had almost always gotten caribou for themselves as well.

“excited for tonight?” you ask, glancing over at william at a red light. “it’s your first game playing against dad. how you feelin’, bud?”

william looks up from his phone, his eyes widening slightly. “i’m a little nervous, not gonna lie. there’s a big difference in my game from last season to this season, and i don’t think dad has realized that just yet.”

you nod your head listening to him talk. william had been the hot shot freshman coming up that the entire coaching staff was excited for. william had just been cut short from the varsity team in 8th grade, but worked his butt off the entire summer. after his coach mike randolph at east saw his performance at summer tourneys, the excitement for the incoming freshman was surreal. as much as you hated to say it, they hadn’t been this excited for a freshman since ryder donovan.

“you just gotta kick his ass. and stay humble, too please. i don’t wanna be the girl with the idiotic brother, okay?” you say and william lets out a laugh but he stills nods. you know he would never do anything stupid, but still, it wouldn’t hurt to say anything. 

you pull into your parking spot, and almost immediately william jumps out to meet up with some of his teammates, which of course happen to be upperclassmen since william was the only freshman on the team - or rather, the only freshman that actually got ice time.

“bye y/n! have a good day!” william smiles, waving over his shoulder at you with a smile on his face.

“bye will, have a good day too. i’ll see you tonight at the game, buddy.” you watch as will walks away with his teammates leaving you to walk into the school alone. that was normal for game days, as soon as will saw some of his teammates he was gone. but you were okay with it, seeing as he had made such a close bond with his teammates regardless of how much younger he was.

once you get inside you head towards the senior locker bank, checking your phone to see that it was 6:59, and there wasn’t a single bone in your body that would doubt the fact ryder would give you shit for being even a minute late. you can see his locker even from all the way down the hallway. there’s probably about four girls there this morning, one being keira bradley from your childhood development class.

you have a tight lipped smile on your face as you approach the small group, where ryder, logan and ricky are standing with the girls. as soon as ryder sees you, a smile forms on his face. keira notices the smile and turns over her shoulder, her flirty smile turning into a grim one as she sees you.

“don’t worry, i’m just here for our baby,” you say rather awkwardly, trying to make your way to ryder. “morning, dono.”

“morning, y/n/n. here’s saylor,” ryder says, but then he unzips his bookbag and pulls out a sweatshirt. “and for the game tonight. gotta let everyone know who my baby mama is.” the smirk that’s on his face it lets you know he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“oh my god, ryder,” you mumble, taking the sweatshirt from his hands with blushing cheeks. “i’ll see you in child dev.”

“see you, y/n/n,” he’s biting his lip slightly after he says it, only adding on to the blush of your cheeks as you walk away, trying to ignore the conversation between him and his friends. 

you walk towards your locker, holding saylor’s carrier in one hand and ryder’s hockey sweatshirt and your coffee in your other hand, that you’re sure has his name and number on the back judging by his comment. when you get to your locker kennedy and josie are already standing there waiting for you, and of course they both have caribou in their hands as well. 

“what is that!” kennedy screeches for way too loud at 7 in the morning, pointing right at ryder’s sweatshirt in your hand. “and why are you blushing!”

you lift your hand to cover your face with the hand that’s holding ryder’s sweatshirt and go towards your locker, only lowering your hand when you have to set the coffee on the top of your locker and placing the baby carrier on the ground. you put in your combo and right before you open it, you show josie and kennedy the back of the sweatshirt, donovan and the number 22 pressed on it.

“no fucking way, y/n,” josie says, reaching out to touch the sweatshirt like it wasn’t real. “do you know what this means, y/n?”

you give josie a weird look, and before you can respond kennedy beats you to it. “y/n/n. logan has told me before ryder doesn’t give anyone his sweatshirts. let alone his team one. or his jersey. are you sure he doesn’t have a crush on you?”

“there is no way he likes me,” you scoff, folding the sweatshirt and placing it in your locker for when you grab it at the end of the day. you grab your binders for your first few classes and put them in your bookbag before shutting it and turning to your best friends that are giving you looks. “what?”

“i think ryder likes you!” kennedy sings, and you’re quick to shush her to shut her up. her mouth closes immediately.

“we don’t need that spreading around, kens. that’s probably the last thing ryder would want, especially when pretty much everyone knows my dad coaches denfeld and i constantly get shit for it.” the three of you then begin to walk towards your respective homerooms.

“speaking of denfeld,” josie smiles, “how’s our secret favorite l/n? is he excited for tonight? nervous?”

you sigh, but there’s a happy smile on your face. “he’s a little bit of both for sure. he’s gonna feel bad no matter what tonight, and there’s gonna be someone that loses. it’s the first time will’s played against our dad’s team, so i guess we’ll just see what happens tonight.”

“something tells me ryder is gonna make sure he has a killer night, y/n/n.” kennedy says. “there’s no way he doesn’t. those two set each other up like, every game. mostly all of ryder’s points are because of william and most of william’s points are because of ryder.”

you shrug as the three of you finally reach your homeroom, “well, we’ll see tonight, yeah? see you at lunch, girls.”

-----------

when you walk into your child development class, the first thing you notice is that ryder is sitting in the desk next to you just like he was before class ended the day prior. it’s like he has a second sense when you walk into the room, and right away he looks up and gives you a smile. you try to bite back your smile as you sit in your seat, setting down your baby carrier down on the tiled floor. 

“how’s she been today? she didn’t give me a lot of trouble last night, only a little bit here and there,” ryder asks, leaning back in his chair and looking over at you.

“she’s been an angel. i think she may be broken,” you joke, glancing down at the baby in your carrier. that’s for the better, too, even if it feels impossible peeling your eyes away from ryder when he’s dressed up for game day and looking as good as he does. 

ryder shoots you a boyish smile, one that nearly makes your stomach do flips and you have to look to the front of the classroom to prevent yourself from blushing. “nah, pretty sure you’re just that good as her mother.”

“ryder donovan, what am i gonna do with you?” you let out a breath as you speak, and you’re practically saved by the bell as mrs. wilson begins to talk after the bell rings.

“good morning guys! hope you all had a good first night being new parents and i hope there weren’t too many complications. does anyone have any questions?” she asks, surveying the room to see if any hands shoot up. she nods when she doesn’t see any. “great. now can we go by group by group and share one thing we learned about your baby? who wants to go first?”

as if he couldn’t be more of a mr. perfect, ryder raises his hand and mrs. wilson nods in his direction. “it’s a pretty good replica of an actual baby and they’re just as sensitive. and rocking them also helps to stop them from crying, it’s not just trying to figure out which key helps with what.”

“very good ryder, that’s spot on.” you even have to say you’re impressed by ryder’s answer, turning to give him an impressed look, in turn you receive a smug smile from him.

you listen as one person from each group that had their baby for the night says what they learned or observed, until finally everyone in the classroom gives their answers. “okay, so here’s the part two to this project.” immediately there’s a few groans coming from around the room. “yeah, i know. but this part is a little bit more fun. because you’re supposed ‘teen parents’ you’re going to have a tighter budget than normal. you have to make do with eight hundred and fifty dollars. all fictional, of course. and make a budget of what you need for your newborn baby. and that includes a stroller, a highchair, a crib, diapers, anything you could possibly need for a baby.”

you and ryder both turn to look at each other. “is she serious right now?” ryder mumbles, glancing up towards mrs. wilson before looking back at you.

“i guess she is.” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest as mrs. wilson begins to explain the second half of your project.

“do you think it would just be easier if one of us just goes to the other’s house?” ryder leans over to ask you quietly and you shrug. “that’s not a response, y/n.”

“well you always have hockey, donovan. one of us is gonna end up doing this entire portion by themself.” it’s not that you’re blaming ryder and his hockey schedule, because you’re not, it was just a bit annoying that the project was planned during the most hectic sports season at your school.

“i’m sorry, y/n. if we’re away for the weekend and you have her for multiple days i’ll make up for it, i promise,” ryder whispers, noticing the glances mrs. wilson is giving the two of you that’s silently telling you to stop talking. 

“now, let’s talk some extra credit.” all of the ears of the kids who needed a grade boost suddenly perk up, including ryder, who’s eyebrows raise. “you can make a family scrapbook. all you have to do is make a slideshow, put pictures of you and your little family and present it in front of the class if you so choose. like i said, it’s only extra credit and it isn’t necessary, but, it’s definitely a little more fun to do.”

“we’re doing that,” ryder whispers as quietly as he can, leaning in closer than he had before. “i have a high c in here and i need to get it up to a b.” 

you nod your head not risking mrs. wilson giving the two of you another warning look as she finishes explaining everything, which ends up taking up the rest of the class.

“so i’m gonna see you tonight, right?” ryder asks as he slings his bookbag over his shoulder. 

“of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world, donovan,” you smile at him, slinging your own bookbag over your back and picking up your baby carrier. as if on cue, saylor begins to cry and your eyes widen. “rydes.”

ryder turns around at the sound of not only the wail of his name, but also the robotic pre recording cry of the baby. “y/n, just pick her up. have you ever taken care of a child before?”

you sheepishly shake your head. you and william were so close in age you didn’t ever take care of him when he was a baby and you don’t remember him being a baby since you were so young. ryder steps in close to you, picking up saylor and positioning her in your arms. 

“just like that,” ryder mumbles, reaching into the carrier to grab the set of keys that would assist in stopping the crying. “i fed her this morning, so she probably needs a dirty diaper change.” ryder mumbles to himself, grabbing the yellow colored key and holding it over the baby’s chest where the sensor was. and just like that, she stops crying. 

“how are you so good at this?” you whine, placing saylor back in the carrier and covering her with a blanket. ryder shrugs, a shy smile on his face.

“i have four other siblings, y/n. i may be the forgotten middle child, but i picked up a few things with my younger siblings.” ryder says, helping you cover up saylor, your hands brushing over each other’s. the warning bell rings, and that’s when you realize your chances of being late to lunch are now extremely high. you look up at the clock and curse under your breath. “what’s up, y/n/n?”

“just gonna be late to lunch, that’s all. kennedy probably stole my seat,” you roll your eyes, picking up the carrier as the two of you begin to make your way out of the classroom. but your eyes catch mrs. wilson, and the younger teacher grins at you, making you smile shyly with blushing cheeks.

to say the least, she knew what she was doing. 

“lunch? try econ with gates, if i’m late to his class i’m gonna have detention for a week.”

you shrug your shoulders, “better get running then, dono, or your ass is grass.”

“yeah, yeah. i’ll see you tonight, y/n. and you better be wearing my sweatshirt.” ryder says and he begins to walk the other way. “oh, and y/n?” ryder asks, and you turn around to see him walking backwards so he’s facing you. “ don’t forget to tell your dad they’re going down tonight.”

chapter two

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

reddie 38?

38. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” - feat. figure skater Eddie and ice hockey player Richie. 

* * * * *

As the music poured through the speakers, Eddie focused on his movements as he skated across the ice, twirling and jumping when the routine called for it. Ever since he was little, being on the ice had been his dream. He had grown up watching the skaters on the TV, begging his mother and father to enrol him in classes, which they eventually did. Now, sixteen years later he was twenty one and heading straight for the Olympics.

That is, if he could master the damn double axel jump.

It wasn’t that he couldn;t do the jump, because he could just fine. It was the landing that he was having difficulty with, with every attempt it was a stumble or an ungraceful landing, which was beginning to annoy the hell out of his mother. She wasn’t even his coach, but because she was the one paying for his lessons and rink time, she believed her opinion overruled everyone else's, even his coach’s.

“Edward, for goodness sake, I’m not paying for you skate like a hippopotamus! I pay for you to skate like a swan, glide across the ice, land as though it's no effort at all! You’ll never qualify for the Olympics skating like that!” His mother screamed through the auditorium and Eddie came to a halt on the side of the rink, breathing heavily.

He looked up at his mother, who was red in the face next to his horrified coach. Normally, his mother kept her more...insulting comments to when it was just him and her in the rink, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. His coach, Maggie Tozier, whipped her head around to face Sonia, a scowl on her face. “Mrs Kasprak, if you are going to treat my skater like that I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The look on his mother’s face told Eddie that she was about to set off. She squared up Maggie and crossed her arms, “I’m the one paying for your time here, therefore I’m not leaving. If I want to give my son some tough love then I will, it’s a harsh world out there and sometimes he needs some harsh criticism so he can be better!”

“Or maybe your words will make him worse, because he won’t stop trying to please you,” Maggie snapped back, not backing down. Their arguing seemed to gain the attention of Mr Corcoran, the owner of the rink, who stuck his head out of his office and pointed to one of the private rooms away from the rink.

Eddie watched with a sigh as both his mother and his coach walked down towards the room, the door slamming behind them. Silence filled the rink and Eddie at least had peace for a few moments while they fought over the best way to teach him skating. He was just about to skate over to the music and attempt the jump again when someone from the other side of the rink called his name.

He turned around and when he saw the owner of the voice, Eddie’s cheeks turned a light pink. It was his coach’s son, Richie Tozier, who was also one of the stars of the Derry Ice Hockey Team. He wasn’t dressed in his gear yet, but his bag was slunk over his shoulder, which meant Eddie’s rink time was coming to an end. He smiled and skated over, placing his hands on the edge of the rink. “Hey, Richie.”

“Hey there, Spaghetti,” Richie grinned back, glancing around the bleachers of the rink. “Where is everyone? Not often I get the chance to speak to you alone with either your mom or my mom scolding me for distracting you.”

Eddie sighed once more, rolling his eyes, “They are arguing...again. This time it’s about the best way to tell me that I suck.” He shrugged and Richie’s eyes widened. “Not- not that your mom said that I suck or anything, but my mom? She thinks I’m a hippo because I can’t land the double axel smoothly.”

Richie blinked and tilted his head to the side, “You mean the most difficult jump in skating? You mean the one my mom only really introduced you to a few weeks ago? That jump?” He asked and Eddie nodded his head. “Damn, your mother is brutal Eds, no offence.” He smiled. “If it is any consolation to you, I think you are the best skater that my mom has ever taken on. None of the others ever made as much progress or are as half as motivated as you are.”

At that, Eddie lit up, trying to contain his smile as best as he could. He wasn’t going to deny it, Eddie had a huge ass crush on Richie, and he was pretty sure that Richie felt the same way about him. The only thing really keeping them apart was Sonia and her stink eye whenever Richie so much as breathed in Eddie’s direction. For some reason, since the moment they met, his mother had developed a hatred for Richie, even though his mother was Eddie’s coach. In Eddie’s opinion, it made no sense.

Richie was smiling at Eddie, a smile that was only really reserved for him, and he opened his mouth as though he was about to say something, but he never got the chance as his mother’s shrill voice screamed through the rink. “EDWARD!” Eddie whipped his head around to see Sonia barging towards them, Maggie close on her tail. She approached Richie and jabbed one of her chubby fingers into his chest. “What have I told you, keep away from my son. All you’ll do is distract him and my Eddie doesn’t need any distractions if he is going to be a champion.”

“Get your hands off of my son, Sonia. What have I told you before,” Maggie hissed as she appeared behind them. “Richie, please go to the locker room and get ready for practice. Zack will be here soon and he’ll want you all on the rink and ready to go.”

With a sigh, Richie nodded and turned to head to the locker room. He stopped a few steps away and turned back around. “I know you don’t like me very much, and that’s fine, but you really shouldn’t treat Eddie like crap. He is a fantastic skater, and by putting him down the way you do, you’re the one most likely to distract him.” He turned to Eddie, who was still on the ice, staring at him in shock and awe. “See you around, Eds.” He winked and turned away, heading to the locker room.

Once he was out of sight, both his mother and Maggie turned to face Eddie. Before his mother could speak up though, Maggie stepped forward, “Your mother has agreed to stop attending our lessons together. In order to give you more time to focus with me on the ice. She will still come with you to your private sessions when she can though.” She smiled. “Hit the locker room, practice is over for the day and the Ice Resurfacer needs to clean the ice for the Hockey Team. We’ll work on that jump tomorrow, okay?”

Eddie nodded his head and, ignoring his mother, he skated to the edge of the rink and towards the other locker room to change. On his way there, he passed by the Hockey Team’s private locker room and happened to overhear his name being mentioned. Unable to stop himself from listening in, Eddie moved a little closer.

“You still haven’t told him? Damn Rich, this is getting insane.” Bill Denbrough spoke and Eddie could just tell he was rolling his eyes. “You come to practice early every day just so you can get a chance to either watch him skate or flirt with him until your mom...or his mom, chases you away. Just tell him and put us out of our misery.”

What could they be talking about? What did Richie need to tell him? He didn’t get a chance to think too much over it, as Richie spoke up. “Oh really Bill, and what do you suggest I say? “Oh hey Eddie! Why haven’t you kissed me yet? I’m crazy ‘bout ya!” He heard Richie sigh heavily. “We’re friends and I don’t...I don’t want to distract him. He deserves to qualify for the Olympics in the trials next month.”

Eddie didn’t stay to hear any of the rest, as he could hear his mother's voice approaching. Quickly, he dodged into the locker room and changed out of his outfit and back into his normal clothes, running a hand through his hair as he looked in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed red and a smile was threatening to appear. Richie liked him back. Richie wanted to kiss him.

As he left the locker room, the Hockey Team were leaving theirs, heading to the rink to start their practice. His mother was by the door, waiting for him and he caught Richie’s eye as they walked past each other. Then, Eddie stopped and turned back around, “Richie! Wait!”

Richie stopped and turned around, his brows furrowed in confusion as Eddie approached him. He bit his lip and finally let himself smile as he pushed up on his toes, settling his hands on Richie’s shoulders and pressing their lips together in a soft, first kiss.

Immediately, all the boys started to holler and wolf whistle, causing Eddie to pull back with a flush on his cheeks, matching Richie’s own. “Eds?” He breathed, ignoring all his teammates. “You- what?”

“Dinner, you and me, tomorrow after practice?” Eddie asked and Richie nodded, almost dumbfounded, but he finally broke into a grin.

“Pick you up at seven Spaghetti,” he winked, just as Zack Denbrough whistled for them all to get on the ice or they would be facing some serious warm ups. He backed away, unable to take his eyes off of Eddie.

Eddie bit his lip and blew Richie a kiss, getting out a giggle as RIchie jumped into the air and caught it, pressing his fist to his lips and he waved softy. “I can’t wait.”

* * * * * 

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it  @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eddiekaspprak @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kat-ships-everything @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madi-artist @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @photoboothreddie @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster @richietoizer @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @ultrapaninibred @vanity190 @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead  

[puckinghell]

11:11 | Carter Hart

Summary: Hockey players are a little superstitious, so wishing on shooting stars, rainbows and dropped penny’s isn’t a rare occurrence. Normally, they’re wishing for things like wins and awards and cups, but Carter has a little something else on his wishlist.  Words: 2,5k Note: based on the song 11:11 by Jae Jin which is the cutest songs I’ve ever heard. Note 2.0: This has been sitting in my concepts for over a year cause I just don’t love it but I like it too much to throw it away, so I finally decided to just post it and be done with it. Hope you guys like it anyway!

---

It’s a well known fact that hockey players are superstitious. 

It’s a better known fact that hockey goalies are stupidly superstitious. 

So far, Carter has been trying to break the stigma, and he’s pretty damn good at it, thank you very much. He doesn’t care if he puts on his left or right skate first, he doesn’t have to turn the shower on and off twice, there’s no pregame meal better than others. Winning games depends on how well he’s playing, not on setting his alarm at 4:32 when he takes his pregame nap.

Carter isn’t superstitious, but he is a little stitious - and he’s watched The Office way too many times, clearly. There’s just one thing he can be superstitious about. Only one thing. 

You.

---

You’ve been sitting on your porch, sketchbook in hand, drawing your neighbor’s dog. He’s big and black and at 11 years old, you’re not really sure if you’re supposed to be scared of him. He looks a bit scary, but he’s never done anything bad, and your parents don’t seem to mind him.

It’s hot outside. Too hot, really, to be outside your air conditioned living room, but your brothers are yelling inside and you just wanted some peace and quiet.

Some peace and quiet, and to stare at the boy next door. 

He’s a little older than you, a lot taller too, and he’s always intimidated you a bit. Sometimes he hangs out with your brothers, who are older too, but today he’s with some boys from around the neighborhood. 

They’re playing street hockey, like they usually are. You like watching them play; it’s such a fun game to watch, and you really wish you could try it, see if it’s fun to play too.

But your brothers always tell you to go away, and you’ve not had the guts to ask Carter. That’s the boy next door’s name; you heard it one time when his mom called him in for dinner. 

You’re focused on where the dog’s ears meet his head - on your paper it doesn’t quite look right - when something goes flying past your head.

“Duck!” you hear someone yell, but you’d already ducked in reflex. A plastic ball comes zooming past your ear, hits the wall behind you and bounces back; it rolls past your feet and ends up in front of somebody else’s.

“Are you okay?” the same voice asks, a little worried, and when you look up it’s Carter staring at you with wide eyes. “Did he hit you?” 

It takes a while for his words to synch into your brain, but then you shake your head. “No, he didn’t.”

Carter smiles, at that. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ve told Alex his aim is so bad he shouldn’t be allowed to play in public, but he didn’t believe me.” 

The other guy, Alex you presume, comes running over, his hockey stick still in his hands. “Shit, sorry,” he says, and you’re pretty sure you’re not allowed to say that word but you don’t mention it. 

“It’s okay,” you say instead. “You didn’t hit me.” 

“Maybe keep an eye on the clock,” says Carter to his friend. “If it’s 11:11, you can wish to actually hit the target, some time.” 

“If you catch 11:11 you can wish to actually make a save,” Alex shoots back.

“If I caught 11:11 I would wish for you to shut up,” Carter snaps back and that’s when you giggle.

Instantly, both the boys turn to you. Carter is grinning at you, a wide and happy grin that makes it impossible for you not to grin back. “What would you wish for, if you caught 11:11?” he asks.

You know the answer; it’s right there on the tip of your tongue and it tumbles out with thinking, words filled with earnest honesty like only those of a kid can be.

“I would wish that I could play hockey.” 

The boy in front of you smiles, yanks the hockey stick out of his friend’s hands and extends it in your direction.

“Come play,” he says. “It’s not like you could be any worse than Alex, anyway.” 

And under loud protest of Alex, a new friendship is born. 

---

Your 16th birthday party is crazy exactly the way 16th birthday parties are supposed to be, with beers snuck into the kitchen as your parents go away for the night, telling you again and again that you can always call them if you need them, even if you think they’ll be mad.

There’s loud music everywhere, and people; you don’t even know half of them, but your brothers promised you they’d make it a party to remember and they’ve kept their promise.

The thing is, well, you’re not the biggest fan of parties, actually. You thought it would be cool, would be like in the movies and you’d feel all grown up and cool, but instead you feel a bit lost, with the noise of the people too loud and their drunken dancing having you worried about your parents furniture.

You also found out you really don’t like beer. 

You get a Pepsi from the fridge, where some friend of your brother’s is mixing some of your dad’s rum into a bottle of Sprite - it doesn’t seem like a good match, but then again, you’ve never tasted rum - while your brother is eating cheese straight from the packet. 

It’s all a bit too much, too sudden, and you find yourself yearning for some peace and quiet, some familiarity.

You make your way to the back yard; it’s quiet, there, the October air a little too cold for your guests, and you sit down on the porch, wrapping your arms around your knees.

The music booms through the walls and you can still hear people screaming, but it sounds more muffled, and it allows you to breathe.

Almost immediately after you sit down, you hear the creak of the backdoor and footsteps against the wood of the porch, and then a familiar body sits next to you, smelling like foresty cologne and floral laundry detergent. 

“Hey,” Carter says softly, smiling at you when you gaze up at him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just needed some quiet.” You take a deep breath. “It’s a bit too much, I guess.” 

Carter is your best friend; has been, for years, and you would trust him with literally anything, so you don’t hesitate, telling him the truth. You don’t think there’s anything you’ve not told him the truth on.

Except when he asked you why you never said yes to the boys asking you out on dates.

First, you’d tried to dodge, told him you never got asked, but that didn’t work because James had asked and you’d shot him down, and James was on the hockey team with Carter so obviously Carter had found out.

When he confronted you with that, you just shrugged. 

“Just not into it, Cart.” 

Because they’re not you. I would say yes if it was you. But those are words only meant for your own ears, words your heart utters into the silent void because there’s no way your brain would even let you say them out loud, not when it could ruin the best friendship you have. 

“You know,” Carter says now, “maybe we see a shooting star. Then you could still make your birthday wish.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What are you on about?” 

He laughs, lightly. “I saw you when you blew out your candles, on the cake, earlier. You were super quick with it, there’s no way you made a wish.” 

It earns him an eye roll, from you. 

“Maybe I didn’t wanna make a wish. Maybe there’s nothing I wish for.” 

“Everyone has something they wish for,” says Carter wisely. He bumps your shoulder and then frowns, suddenly. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re freezing.” 

You put your hands on your own arms, wrap your arms around yourself, to feel that indeed your skin is cold and there’s goosebumps on your arms. Before you can comment on it, Carter has taken off his hoodie and is tugging it - not so carefully - over your head.

“Auw,” you whine, “you’re pulling my hair.” 

He immediately stops, then very slowly pulls the fabric down the rest of the way. It’s worse, that way, makes it feel more intimidate than it is. 

“Well,” you say finally, “there’s no shooting stars, so I guess no wish for me, this year.” 

Carter sighs, sounding defeated, then glances at his watch and his whole face lights up. 

“It’s 11:10! You can make a wish at 11:11!”

You can’t help but giggle at his excitement. “Cart, that doesn’t even have anything to do with my birthday.” 

“No,” says Carter, talking slow, as if he’s explaining something to a toddler. “They’re more special. Everyone gets a birthday wish, because everyone has a birthday. Not everyone catches the 11:11, though. That’s the universe telling you it’s your turn for a little bit of luck.” 

It’s dumb, and you don’t believe it, but he says it so adorably convinced, that when he motions at his watch that it’s time, you close your eyes and make a wish.

It’s fine if the wish will never come true. As long as it makes the tall, slender boy next to you happy, the way he does you. 

---

Carter’s first year as a Flyer is stressful.

You get to watch it from up close cause you followed him to Philly; there was never really an option not to. You know, after years of searching for something else, someone else that makes you feel the way he does, that it’s a lost cause.

It’s him, for you. It’s always been him. 

You’re driving to his apartment, the night of what you knew has been a hard game. They lost, again. You know Carter will - wrongfully - blame himself, again. You know you’re gonna do whatever it takes to pick up the pieces, again, and probably fail, again. 

Maybe Carter’s stupid goalie superstition has rubbed off on you, but when you drive through a tunnel, you hold your breath until the end of it.

Let him be okay.

His front door creaks as you open it; he gave you a key as soon as he moved in, and you’ve been using it ever since. You don’t even think you know what his doorbell sounds like.

“Carter?” you call out. You know he’s not asleep; he never sleeps well, after losses. It takes him ages, tossing and turning in his sheets until he just gives up and sits on the balcony, staring at the stars.

He says it calms him down.

You’re pretty sure you know where to find him.

“Cart?” you mutter, opening the balcony door carefully, and indeed, there’s a human figure slumped over the railing, head down, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie. At your voice, he looks up, and you’re struck with how tired he looks. 

Dark circles surround his bright eyes, which seem to light up the dark night as much as the city lights below you.

You go stand next to him, close enough for your shoulders to touch; warmth is still radiating off him, his cheeks are flushed. 

“I don’t get what you’re looking at, here,” you tell him, giving him time to decide whether or not he wants to talk about the game. You know he doesn’t do well when you push him. “You can’t even see the stars. The city lights are way too bright.” You crinkle your nose in disgust. “The stars were so much more beautiful back home.” 

“Do you miss home?” Carter asks.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Some things. You?” 

“I miss my family.” Carter pauses. “Not home, so much. I thought I would, but, the one part I thought I’d miss the most...” Another pause, then a tentative smile. “Well, she followed me here.” 

Your heart flutters at that and you have to remind yourself that he’s just in a mushy mood, probably trying to hide his emotions about the game. 

But you still wanna let him know you appreciate it, and you feel the same, so you lean closer, letting your head drop to his shoulder. Right away, his head is resting on top of yours.

“Can you wish on city lights?” you ask, just to fill the quiet night, and he chuckles.

“Probably not, but I don’t think I’ll need the stars to wish on. I make wishes when I hold my breath in tunnels, when I throw pennies in wells, when I blow out candles...” 

“There’s no wells around here,” you interrupt, and you feel Carter’s shoulders shake with muted laughter. It’s so much better than the sad expression he wore when you got here, and you feel the brick that’s settled in the pit of your stomach since you saw the score, slightly dissipate. 

“I think it’s probably around 11,” says Carter, then. “If we catch it, we can make another wish.” 

You know what you would wish for; the same thing you’ve been wishing for for 8 years. You also know you might as well be wishing for the sky to turn purple, so you’re not really too worried about catching 11:11.

“What do you wish for, anyway?” you ask him. He turns slightly, so he’s facing you now, and incredulous look on his face.

“You really don’t know?” he says. “It’s the same thing, every time.” 

“How would I know?” you huff. “You’ve never told me.” 

“Guess.” 

You don’t see the fun in this game but you’d do anything to see him smile, anything to keep his mind off the game, so you humor him.

“Stanley Cup.” 

“No.” 

“Vezina?” 

“Nope.” 

“World peace.” Carter seems like that guy.

“No, but I would, if I thought it was possible.” 

“A puppy.” 

He laughs. “No, but I should.” 

“I don’t know, Cart,” you tell him, smiling now. You expect him to say something silly, but a serious expression crosses his face, and then his hands come down and grab hold of your hips. He takes a step closer and your breath hitches in your throat.

“What...” are you doing, you start, but he interrupts you.

“When I wish on 11:11, I’m wishing for you.” 

His lips touch yours before you’ve processed the words, but as soon as you realize what’s happening, you hook your arms behind his neck, push up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeper. 

You try to put everything you have into that kiss; try to tell him, wordlessly, that you wanna grow old together, wanna be his person, want him to stay with you even when you’re scared, that you think he’s beautiful and magical and everything you could ever wish for. 

That every time you wish on shooting stars and ticking clocks, you’re wishing for him too.

“I think we might’ve missed 11:11,” is the first thing you say when you finally pull apart, breathing a little heavily, Carter’s cheeks tinted a little pink.

He breathes out a chuckle, rests his forehead against yours.

“That’s okay,” he says. 

“I’ve got all I’d wish for right here.” 

[thedeviltohisangel]

When The Day Met The Night//1

There was a gentle, almost timid, knock on the door and it silenced all the women instantly. They were all in their nightgowns, some with curlers they had pilfered from the Austrian homes, and all of them passing around the most delectable red wine they’d ever been in the presence of. It felt like what they were used to. Giggles and blushing and whispering about the men that were in the houses around them.

masterlist is my url/writing

accepting requests for this pairing

this is dedicated to @softspeirs​ for showing me the first twenty times i watch BoB i didn’t pay enough attention to ron

There was a gentle, almost timid, knock on the door and it silenced all the women instantly. They were all in their nightgowns, some with curlers they had pilfered from the Austrian homes, and all of them passing around the most delectable red wine they’d ever been in the presence of. It felt like what they were used to. Giggles and blushing and whispering about the men that were in the houses around them. It was in the middle of Barbara’s story about the Sergeant in Able Company that the knock sounded.

“Maybe it’s him!” They all huddled together as Barbara stood and opened the door, the sly smirk on her face faltering once she did.

“Sir! Did someone get hurt?” They all craned their necks to try and catch a glimpse of the officer that was standing there.

“No, I was wondering if Violet was around.” 

“One moment. I’ll check.” Barbara shut the door carefully and turned to face the group. “It’s Captain Spiers,” she whispered. They all turned to look at Violet, giddy smiles spreading across their faces. Her own followed suit. 

“How do I look?” She stood quickly and spun as the women came closer to inspect her.

“Beautiful! But you need a robe!” It would be quite the scandal for a man to see her skin in the way the nightgown exposed it. On the other side of the door, Ron was wondering if he had come at a bad time. If he had interrupted...well whatever it was that a group of women would be during right now. Talking? Casting spells? Just as he was opening his mouth to announce he’d come back another time, the door creaked open.

“Hi.” Well, everything felt better just like that.

“Hi,” he whispered back. Just her face was showing through the crack of the door, a robe haphazardly thrown around her shoulders was slipping just enough that his mouth ran dry with the possibilities of touching her skin where he shouldn’t.

“Everyone is fleeing into their rooms, then I can let you in.” His eyes flickered above her head where the blurry shapes of bodies were flying past.

“Fleeing?”

“To give us our privacy,” she teased. Privacy. That was something neither had truly had since before Pearl Harbor. Since before enlisting. Since before basic and Normandy and Holland and all the other hell holes they had marched into.

“I don’t know what that is anymore,” he mused. Violet found it hard to stay standing anytime he looked at her. The way his eyes zeroed in like she was an oasis in the desert. She turned to see a thumbs up from the last nurse slipping into her room, the door finally opening up to Ron fully.

“Well, me having my own room is as close as we can get.” He stepped into the apartment that had been given to the women for their time in Austria. Everyone had agreed keeping them sequestered was the appropriate move. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t go if he was invited to. She led him down the hall and into a room that looked like he imagined it would. In the back of his mind on the cold nights in his foxhole when he told himself deliriousness really was sinking in if he was thinking about the future. Thinking about a future with her in it. Why would he be deserving of such a thing? Why would he be selfish enough to drag her down with him?

“What’s this?” he inquired pointing towards the rifle that was propped against her nightstand.

“If the men are getting drunk enough to run over each other, imagine what they’d do to us. To me.” There had been plenty of comments and looks thrown her way over the years that made her skin crawl. That almost made her quit and return home. No matter how tired and cold they all were, no matter how many of them she had stitched back together, she would always be lesser than them. A girl playing dress up. A girl who’d get put in her place if she tried to find a spot in this world.

“I’d kill them before they got the chance to even think about it.” There was nothing playful in his tone nor his eyes. And she knew he was right.

“I know,” she whispered as she closed the distance between them and cupped the back of his head. Ron was already reserving himself to standing outside her door every night to make sure of it. “Don’t let those thoughts ruin tonight.” Throughout the entire war, since the moment they met even before it turned into what it was, they had sought each other for comfort. The moment they locked eyes the world stopped and stilled. It grew peaceful and content and warm and safe. She didn’t want anything to ruin that. Ruin the sacred place between them that they had built.

“It gets harder everyday to compartmentalize. Gets harder everyday to pretend I’m not screaming inside. That you aren’t the only thing that can soothe my soul.” Everyone knew about them but no one spoke about it. The boys of Easy, who she had been with since the beginning, wanted nothing for her but happiness. And if that came in the form of Speirs, then so be it. If anyone deserved a smile on their face, it was Violet.

“Then talk to me about happy things. Like Boston.” He huffed out a laugh.

“Like Boston.” 

“Yeah. I’ve only been once. Tell me how it looks through your eyes.” Unconsciously, they had begun swaying like they were at a dance. It was a beat only the two of them could hear. A beat they had created with their hearts.

“Well, I used to love when it snowed. Not sure if I will anymore. Me and some other boys used to play hockey on the pond. I remember, even though it was so cold, I couldn’t feel it. I was so excited to be with them and playing and…” She let his words sit between them without a response. She knew what he was going through. The danger of remembering a simpler time. The danger of letting oneself be happy and let their guard down.

“You’ll learn to love snow again, Ron. I promise.” He didn’t respond, instead leaning down to kiss her. It had always been easier for him to get his emotions across through actions. Whether it was anger through killing Germans or love by touching her softly and kissing her hungrily. She sighed into his lips and relaxed against him, letting him absorb her fully. 

“Did you like Boston? The one time you went?”

“I did. We stayed right by the harbor. And ate the most delicious food. If only I had known there were such handsome men…”

“And none of them are worthy of you. Never will be.” There was complete sincerity in his tone. And she knew he was referring to himself as well. She didn’t need to ask.

“Is that where you’re going to go once this is all over? Back to Boston?” 

“Where are you going to go?” She thinks he was deflecting but she didn’t push.

“I got a letter that the theater is willing to accept me back when I get home. I’ll be back in New York.” Her mother would no doubt be thrilled to hear it. That her daughter, tarnishing the society image by covering herself in blood and mud and associating with foul-mouthed men, would return home and be welcomed back as a ballerina. One people paid good money to see.

“That’s where you belong,” he said quietly. And Ron knew what he said was true. People didn’t shine the way she did just to retreat to the background. They didn’t change every life they touched just to have their names resigned. They weren’t born to live in foxholes and never know stability. She deserved the prosperous, golden life that New York could give her. That he couldn’t. Not in Boston, not anywhere. He was abrasive and temperamental and didn’t know how to be careful with anything let alone something so beautiful in it’s delicacy.

“You’re staying with the men?” She figured Ron was never going to have the courage to break her heart. She would do it for him.

“Easy, they’re a special group. I wouldn’t want someone ruining them. Getting them killed over in Japan.”

“Of course,” she nodded as if she agreed. As if she understood. As if she expected Ron to change who he was for her. 

“Otherwise I’d…I’d…” He wanted to say he’d be in New York. That if he wasn’t so good at being a monster he’d be with her. He’d try to fit in. For her. Only for her.

“I know,” she whispered with tears shining in her eyes. “We have to leave a lot of things behind.” But she knew she wouldn’t. Couldn’t leave him behind.

“I didn’t come here tonight to do this, Violet, I promise.” Ron stepped back from her embrace and ran his hand roughly down his face trying to wake himself up from this nightmare.

“You don’t owe me anything, Ron. You’ve given me more than I ever hoped for.” He looked away from her. All of a sudden he couldn’t breathe. His chest was heaving and the world was spinning. She was crying and it was his fault and he was committing to a life without her. The only thing Ron Speirs had been afraid of since the aid station in Carentan. 

“I love you. I love you so much and it paralyzes me sometimes. I love you and I don’t know how to be in love. I don’t know how to be someone you can rely on. I don’t know how to be a stabilizing presence in anyone’s life and I sure as hell don’t know what to do with peace.”

“So stay. Stay with Easy and jump into Tokyo. I’ll go to New York and I’ll wait for you. I’ll go wherever Ike tells you to go afterwards. I don’t know how to be in love either, Ron, but I know it’s not something you’re meant to figure out on your own. It’s not supposed to be easy if it’s worth it. You may not think so but you’re fucking worth it. You’re worth it.” In two strides he was wrapped around her again. He crushed her against him with a ferocity that could only be described as carnal. Ronald Speirs prided himself in never behaving like a fool but he felt like trying to live a life without her and her love would have been the most foolish act of all.

“I can’t live without you,” he gasped as the robe slipped off her frame completely. As more of her was exposed to him than ever before. “I can’t be a good leader, a good man, without you.”

“You have me, you have me, you have me,” she chanted as she held him against her like she would a life raft in the ocean. He kissed down her neck and across her collarbone, his hands moving to grip under her thighs. They didn’t need words, her little jump just enough for him to lift her and her legs to come around his waist. Her back landed on the bed, their lips never breaking as he settled over her. 

“I want you so bad,” he whispered as he body took over, trailing kisses over her nightgown and down her stomach. “But not like this.” The first time they were intimate together was not going to be in a boarding house in Austria on the eve of the Japanese invasion. She deserved better. He would give her better. Violet whined and he chuckled.

“You’ve gotten me all worked up for nothing.”

“You’re not used to it by now?” She slapped his arm playfully. 

“I’m going to miss it. You and all the others not tiptoeing around me. Not judging me when I make a crude joke.” He chuckled around the cigarette he had just put into his mouth. “I’m worried I won’t fit in back home anymore. That high society won’t have me. That my mother’s opinion of me is damaged beyond repair.”

“Fuck her.”

“Ronald!”

“I mean it. Fuck her, fuck high society. Fuck all of it. No one should make you feel ashamed for what you’ve done over here. For having the courage to do it in the first place. They should consider themselves lucky to know you.” He knows he did.

“You know, if you say all that to her it won’t make a good first impression.” She rolled over so she was on top of him now. Her smile was devious but also pure happiness. Ron and her would be together even after this place. They’d always be.

“What if you go home and have a ring on your finger?” She froze. He thinks the whole world did. “Marry me, Violet. It’s going to happen one day so why not now? Why not go our separate ways tied to each other?” If Ron was going to die in Japan, he wanted to die belonging to her. Maybe that way he’d see her again once it was all over. She just giggled.

“You mean that?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes!” she screamed as he snuffed out the cigarette and wiggled his fingers into her side, her laughter waking the whole house if they weren’t up eavesdropping already. “Stop! Stop that tickles!” He relented with a final kiss, her breathlessness and flushed cheeks making her look like her life had not been touched by the tragedy it had.

“Mrs. Speirs,” he whispered as he smoothed her hair back from her face.

“Sounds like it’s meant to be,” she replied just as softly and with as much conviction as she had ever said anything. Life was good. But like anything in Europe, it never was for long.

[flirting-with-psychology]

1. I own a ferret. 2. My best friend is my boyfriend 3. My best friend is a girl 4. I use the word super way too much 5. I am a boy 6. I like My Chemical Romance 7. I own more than 100 CDs 8. I like discussing politics 9. I collect state quarters 10. The Legend of Zelda is my favorite video game. 11. I have Cingular 12. I love MAC makeup 13. I smoke too much 14. I own more than 5 bandanas 15. My favorite movie is Kill Bill 16. I watched Lamb Chop when I was young 17. I have my ears gauged 18. I can do HTML without guidance 19. I watch Spongebob Squarepants regularly. 20. I go to the movies at least once a week 21. I play guitar or bass 22. I love Elvis 23. I’ve had a mo/bi/trihawk before 24. I have met my favorite band 25. I like to hardcore dance 26. Something’s outside my window 27. I believe in ghosts 28. I do drugs regularly 29. I am straightedge 30. My favorite feature about myself is my lips 31. I have never consumed alcohol 32. I want a tattoo. 33. My favorite actor is Will Ferrell. 34. I have seen Conan O'Brien live. 35. I hate MTV 36. I used to watch Cheaters every week 37. I have my own vaccuum 38. Frank Sinatra is awesome 39. I sleep with a stuffed animal 40. I am scared of werewolves 41. I watch hockey regularly 42. I am originally from New York 43. I own an iPod 44. Some people aren’t funny. 45. I hate school. 46. My favorite vegetable is lettuce. 47. Tickle fights are fun. 48. I am currently unemployed. 49. I have my license 50. I hate spelling mistakes 51. I love Spanish class 52. I live in a big city 53. I have been to the Grand Canyon 54. I listen to music to fall asleep 55. I watch TV to fall asleep 56. I only get a few hours of sleep each night 57. I’m relatively innocent. 58. I am a size 3 or smaller 59. I’m bored. 60. Purple is my favorite color. 61. I hate flossing 62. I have a car. 63. I believe in God 64. I’m in love. 65. I used to love Unwritten Law. 66. Reno 911 is my favorite show. 67. There is a mini stapler on my computer desk. 68. Cuddling’s my favorite. 69. For sure. 70. I have a flip phone 71. I love my handwriting 72. I own a Louis Vuitton handbag 73. I want to be an astronaut. 74. I love the song Dragostea Din Tei 75. 50 Cent is not talented 76. I like scanners better than digital cameras. 77. I own at least one Punk-O-Rama CD 78. My room is sound proof. 79. I’m 5'5 or less 80. Lying pisses me off 81. I backstab people. 82. I have been in a fist fight. 83. I have PaintShop Pro. 84. It’s almost midnight 85. My nightlight is cracked 86. I only listen to Dashboard Confessional when I’m sad 87. And I feel like a pansy when I do so 88. I hate metal 89. I’m in a band. 90. Napoleon Dynamite is annoying now. 91. I love hickeys 92. I want to lose weight 93. My favorite channel is the Food Network. 94. I don’t have a CD burner. 95. Pixar is stupid except for the Incredibles 96. I own an apartment/house 97. I am engaged. 98. My computer’s a Gateway. 99. I hate driving. 100. I like watching boys sleep. =========================== 01. I miss someone right now 02. I don’t watch much TV these days 03. I love olives 04. I love sleeping 05. I own lots of books 06. I wear glasses or contact lenses 07. I love to play video games 08. I’ve tried marijuana 09. I’ve watched porn movies 10. I have been in a threesome 11. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship 12. I believe honesty is usually the best policy 13. I have acne free skin usually 14. I like and respect Al Sharpton 15. I curse frequently 16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year 17. I have a hobby 18. I’ve been told I can suck the chromes off a trailer hitch. 19. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me 20. I’m smart 21. I’ve never broken someone’s bones 22. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal 23. I hate the rain 24. I’m paranoid at times 25. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scars. 26. I need money right now! 27. I love Sushi 28. I talk really, really fast sometimes 29. I have fresh breath in the morning 30. I have semi-long hair 31. I have lost money in Las Vegas 32. I have at least one brother and/or one sister 33. I was born in a country outside of the U.S. 34. I shave my legs 35. I have a twin 36. I have worn fake hair/fingernails/eyelashes in the past 37. I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D. 38. I like the way that I look sometimes 39. I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months 40. I know how to do cornrows 41. I am usually pessimistic 42. I have a lot of mood swings 43. I think prostitution should be legalized 44. I think Britney Spears is hot 45. I have cheated on a significant other in the past 46. I have a hidden talent 47. I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have. 48. I think that I’m popular 49. I am currently single 50. I have kissed someone of the same sex 51. I enjoy talking on the phone 52. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants 53. I love to shop. 54. I would rather shop than eat 55. I would classify myself as ghetto. 56. I’m bourgie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders 57. I’m obsessed with my Livejournal 58. I don’t hate anyone. 59. I’m a pretty good dancer 60. I don’t think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington 61. I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother 62. I have a cell phone 63. I believe in God/ a higher being. 64. I watch MTV/Vh1 on a daily basis 65. I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months 66. I love drama. 67. I have never been in a real romantic relationship before 68. I’ve rejected someone before 69. I currently have a crush on someone 70. I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life 71. I want to have children in the future 72. I have changed a diaper before 73. I’ve called the cops on a friend before 74. I bite my nails 75. I am a member of the Tom Green fan club 76. I’m not allergic to anything 77. I have a lot to learn 78. I have dated someone at least 10 years older or younger 79. I plan on seeing Ice Cube’s newest “Friday” movie 80. I am sometimes shy around the opposite sex 81. I’m online 24/7, even as an away message 82. I have at least 5 away messages saved 83. I have tried alcohol or drugs before 84. I have made a move on a friend’s significant other in the past 85. I own the “South Park” movie 86. I have avoided assignments at work/school to be on Xanga or Livejournal 87. When I was a kid I played “the birds and the bees” with a neighbor or chum 88. I enjoy some country music 90. I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza 91. I watch soap operas whenever I can 92. I’m obsessive, anal retentive, and often a perfectionist 93. I have used my sexuality to advance my career 94. I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all 95. I know all the words to Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story” 96. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy 97. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it 98. I have dated a close friend’s ex 99. I’m happy as of this moment 100. I was born in the 80s but I am truly a child of the 90s  101. I have slapped john dasaro and chris burke in the face..on the same night 102. I haven’t showered in two days… and I like it. 103. i own every f***er here 104. I procrastinate all the time 105. I’m a nerd 106. I LOVE the movie The Wedding Singer. 107. i hate corn. 108. i’ve attended the rocky horror picture show 109. i’ve never seen Bambi the movie 110. Thinking about the future terrifies me 111. Without music there would be no point in living. 112. If I could change one thing about myself I would 113. If someone of the same sex liked me, I would date them. 114. I went to the mall today for 5 hours ================================ Would do Have Done

001. Bought everyone in the pub a drink 002. Swam with wild dolphins 003. Climbed a mountain *004. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive 005. Been inside the Great Pyramid 006. Held a tarantula. *007. Taken a candlelit bath with someone 008. Said ‘I love you’ and meant it. 009. Hugged a tree *010. Done a striptease 011. Bungee jumped *012. Visited Paris 013. Watched a lightning storm at sea *014. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise several times *015. Seen the Northern Lights 016. Gone to a huge sports game 017. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa *018. Grown and eaten your own vegetables *019. Touched an iceberg *020. Slept under the stars 021. Changed a baby’s diaper 022. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon *023. Watched a meteor shower *024. Gotten drunk on champagne *025. Given more than you can afford to charity 026. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope 027. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment 028. Had a food fight 029. Bet on a winning horse 030. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill 031. Asked out a stranger 032. Had a snowball fight 033. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier 034. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can 035. Held a lamb 036. Organized and planned a surprise party for a loved one *037. Taken a midnight skinny dip 038. Taken an ice cold bath 039. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar 040. Seen a total eclipse 041. Ridden a roller coaster 042. Hit a home run 043. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days 044. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking *045. Adopted an accent for an entire day 046. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors 047. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment *048. Had two hard drives for your computer *049. Visited all 50 states 050. Loved your job for all accounts *051. Taken care of someone who was really sick *052. Had enough money to be truly satisfied 053. Had amazing friends 054. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country *055. Watched wild whales 056. Stolen a sign 057. Backpacked in Europe *058. Taken a road-trip 059. Rock climbing 060. Lied to foreign government’s official in that country to avoid notice *061. Midnight walk on the beach 062. Sky diving *063. Visited Ireland 064. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love 065. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them *066. Visited Japan 067. Bench pressed your own weight 068. Milked a cow 069. Alphabetized your records 070. Pretended to be a superhero 071. Sung karaoke 072. Lounged around in bed all day 073. Protested something you feel strongly against 074. Scuba diving *075. Got it on to “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye 076. Kissed in the rain 077. Played in the mud 078. Played in the rain *079. Gone to a drive-in theater 080. Done something you should regret, but don’t regret *081. Visited the Great Wall of China 082. Discovered that someone who’s not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog 083. Dropped Windows in favor of something better 084. Started a business 085. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken 086. Toured ancient sites 087. Taken a martial arts class 088. Swordfought for the honor of a woman 089. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight *090. Gotten married 091. Been in a movie 092. Crashed a party 093. Loved someone you shouldn’t have *094. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy 095. Gotten divorced 096. Started an office war 097. Gone without food for 5 days 098. Made cookies from scratch 099. Won first prize in a costume contest 100. Ridden a gondola in Venice 101. Gotten a tattoo 102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on 103. Rafted the Snake River 104. Been on television news programs as an “expert" 105. Got flowers for no reason 106. Made out in a public place 107. Got so drunk you don’t remember anything 108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug 109. Performed on stage 110. Been to Las Vegas 111. Recorded music 112. Eaten shark *113. Drank an entire 6 pack by yourself *114. Gone to Thailand 115. Seen Siouxsie *116. Bought a house 117. Been in a combat zone 118. Buried one/both of your parents 119. Shaved all of your hair off *120. Been on a cruise ship 121. Spoken more than one language fluently 122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone 123. Bounced a check 124. Performed in theatre 125. Read - and understood - your credit report *126. Raised children 127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy *128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour *129. Created and named your own constellation of stars 130. Taken a bicycle tour in a foreign country 131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did 132. Called or written your Congress person 133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over 135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge 136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking 137. Had an abortion 138. Had plastic surgery 139. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived 140. Wrote articles for a large publication 141. Lost over 100 pounds 142. Held someone while they were having a flashback 143. Piloted an airplane 144. Petted a stingray 145. Broken someone’s heart 146. Helped an animal give birth 147. Been fired or laid off from a job 148. Won money on a TV game show 149. Broken a bone 150. Killed a human being *151. Gone on an African photo safari 152. Ridden a motorcycle 153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph 154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced 155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol 156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild 157. Ridden a horse 158. Had major surgery 159. Ridden on a passenger train 160. Had a snake as a pet 161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon 162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing 163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours 164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states *165. Visited all 7 continents 166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days 167. Eaten kangaroo meat 168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground 169. Been a sperm or egg donor 170. Eaten sushi 171. Had your picture in the newspaper 172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime *173. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about 174. Gotten someone fired for their actions 175. Gone back to school 176. Parasailed 177. Changed your name 178. Petted a cockroach 179. Eaten fried green tomatoes 180. Read The Iliad 181. Selected one "important” author who you missed in school, and read 182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them 183. …and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you 184. Taught yourself an art from scratch 185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating 186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt *187. Skipped all your school reunions 188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language 189. Been elected to public office 190. Written your own computer language 191. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream 192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care 193. Built your own PC from parts 194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you 195. Had a booth at a street fair 196: Dyed your hair blue 197: Been a DJ 198: Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal 199: Written your own role playing game 200: Been arrested ====================== 1. I have self-mutilated before. 2. I still love the song Dragostea Din Tei 3. I used to like New Kids on the Block 4. The 80s was funny. 5. I have realtones enabled on my cellular phone. 6. Public bathrooms scare me 7. I have keys on my belt 8. I’m not wearing a belt 9. I hate writing 10. I hate reading 1. I love compilation CDs 12. My favorite teachers have all been guys 13. I think Bad Religion’s only been around for ten or so years 14. I don’t know who Bad Religion is. 15. I don’t wear my hood unless it’s raining 16. I enjoy smaller clubs rather than big ones 17. I’ve put a song on repeat for more than 8 hours 18. I have sound on my computer  19. Someone wants my hiney. 20. My mom loves Elvis 21. I have my own computer 22. I live on the east coast 23. My favorite animal is a kangaroo 24. I’m on vacation 25. I don’t own a pair of ripped jeans 26. I am very insecure somewhat 27. I love to dance 28. I curse way too much. 29. I choose the pansy way and star out my curse words (f*ck) 30. I feel dumb because I was just called a pansy 31. I have a flatscreen computer 32. I collect something. 33. I’m married 34. I won’t date someone who’s smaller than me smaller, as in also shorter? 35. Brass knuckles are the shit. 36. I own a hand puppet 37. I write with blue pens 38. I wear eye makeup almost every day 39. I wish I lived somewhere other than here 40. I don’t own a band shirt. Not yet anyway.. 41. I love techno. 42. I have my nipples pierced 43. I’m shitty at wrapping presents 44. I know someone in the KKK 45. I’m racist/anti-semitist. 46. I don’t know what those mean. 47. I love life most of the time 48. I have posters all over my room 49. I’ve never been a camera whore with someone.. And I want to. 50. I’m halfway done 51. I wish I lived in the 80s 52. I know what the term borgie means 53. I’m interested in social hierarchy. 54. I love music videos. 55. I have a DVD player 56. I’m drunk right now 57. I’m listening to music 58. I have a big screen TV 59. I have an STD 60. I know the singer of the Clash’s name 61. The only IM program I have is AIM 62. I skateboard regularly 63. I live on the north side of town 64. I have been to Alaska 65. I’ve worn a cowboy hat 66. I watch late night infomercials for retarded, unnecessary things 67. I LOVE DOING THE DEATH GROWL TO MY FAVORITE METAL SONGS. 68. That last question was dumb. 69. I know what the word “peligroso” means in English 70. I speak another language fluently 71. I’ve been in a limo 72. I own a bong 73. My lungs hurt 74. I know someone who’s committed suicide 75. I’ve got a six pack and I don’t need you! 76. I know what band sung the above line 77. I like strong boys. 78. I’m sick right now 79. I know someone who’s currently enlisted in the army 80. I do not own a color phone 81. My birthday is in September 82. I hate mall cops 83. I hate most cops in general 84. I’m wearing blush 85. I live in an apartment 86. I’m still in high school. 87. I own something from Victoria’s Secret 88. I don’t know a boy that wears girls pants 89. I’ve had the same best friend since I was 8. 90. Brownies are my favorite 91. So is cake 92. I’ve heard the song “Looks Good in Leather” 93. I own some sort of propaganda, fake or real 94. I deny the Holocaust happened 95. Kisses are my favorite sign of affection 96. I need to charge my phone 97. My purse could pass for a suitcase 98. I take birth control 99. I only buy what’s fashionable

1. I love bolding 2. I know someone named Mimi 3. I hate my old best friend 4. My favorite alcoholic drink is Jack n Coke 5. I have a digital camera 6. I’m talking to at least one person online 7. I like watching college basketball 8. I have never moved. 9. I have at least one cat 10. I have at least one dog 11. I’m going to see a movie tonight maybe 12. I make my own AIM icons 13. I’m in pain 14. I watch more than five shows a day 15. I love the Cure 16. My parents like some of the same music I do 17. I have never been to the dentist 18. I listen to the radio 19. I do my own laundry 20. I’ve made at least one article of clothing 21. I have/want something on my face pierced 22. I go to at least one concert a week 23. I’ve written a story 24. I’ve dyed my hair every color of the rainbow 25. I own a Grand Theft Auto game 26. My favorite pattern is camoflauge 27. I know someone who does/did cocaine 28. I have too many game systems 29. I love scary movies 30. I hate scary movies 31. I’ve had sex more than 5 times 32. My favorite chips are Lays Original 33. I think butter is unhealthy 34. I hate the Osbournes 35. I used to have dreadlocks 36. I need to take medicine for something 37. I suffer from insomnia 38. I speak ebonics 39. I’ve gambled 40. And won 41. I have at least one gay friend 42. I like going to pet stores 43. I own a dog toy 44. And I don’t have a dog 45. I own more than ten candles 46. I’ve smoked a cigarette in the shower before 47. I’ve flunked a class 48. I listen to music every day 49. I have more than one nickname 50. I wear pajamas when I feel like it 51. I’m wearing more than one jewelry item 52. I haven’t washed my hair in a week 53. I watch the Grammy’s every year 54. Along with the Macy’s Parade 55. My favorite season is winter 56. I have seen the All American Rejects live 57. And I’ve enjoyed it. 58. Boobs are nothing special 59. I go swimming at least once a week in summer. 60. I have a pool. 61. I’ve gone skinnydipping 62. I’ve played strip poker 63. And lost 64. I want a nautical star tattoo 65. My cell phone turns off when it’s charging 66. And it pisses me off 67. I used to buy my entire wardrobe from Hot Topic 68. I’ve been to albinoblacksheep.com 69. My favorite subject is History 70. And/or math 71. I am a republican 72. I am a democrat 73. I listen to the Used occasionally 74. I have been to the Warped Tour 75. I am part Mexican 76. I am part German 77. All of my grandparents are still alive. 79. I love bowling 80. I know that there is a South Park, Colorado 81. I love Dairy Queen 82. Sometimes I think I’m crazy 83. I own a Moffatts CD 84. I own a Backstreet Boys CD 85. I want plastic surgery 86. Operation, operation, snip and tie, snip and tie 87. I know what song that line is from 88. I have killed something [bugs!] 89. I’ve never had a Nokia cell phone 90. I’m never sarcastic 91. Light eyes turn me on 92. I have never been to a foreign country 93. I don’t eat enough 94. I own illegal weaponry 95. I know someone who has overdosed on something 96. And lived to tell about it 97. I don’t own a pair of mittens 98. I love the heat 99. I’ve never had a steady boyfriend/gf 100. I want to makeout.