#this is all a joke by the way hockey is dumb and none of this matters

[sophsicle]

CANADA BEAT AMERICA IN THE HOCKEY AND THIS IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS TO ME THANK YOU

[luvhughes43]

The Boy Trap Prt 2 | Luke Hughes x reader

request: Hi yes hello could I get a part 2 to Luke dating a twin and the boys getting them mixed up! Like maybe the girls pull a prank and it confuses the boys except lukey who knows who is his girlfriend

word count: 1.1k

the boy trap masterlist🌷

a week after that friday night party, the twins decided to pull a little prank on the guys to test their ability on telling them apart. they had gone to the mall and bought identical outfits, and they did each other’s makeup so that they looked the exact same. 

The plan was that they would both go to the boys house, and would take turns hanging out with them to see who would be the first to catch on that they were switching places. 

You walked into the house first, finding her boyfriend sat on a barstool at the kitchen island. Ethan, Duker, and a few other hockey boys were sat around the kitchen talking about their upcoming game. It was the perfect time to put phase one of the plan into action. You quickly pulled out your phone and sent your twin Hallie a quick text.

Y/n: they’re all distracted you can come in

Hallie: k i’m gonna hide in the bathroom

*y/n liked one message

You heard the front door open and close quietly, but a quick sweep around the room told you that none of the boys picked up on it. You walked over to your boyfriend and slid a barstool next to his. You sat down and greeted everyone.

“I missed you” Luke whispered in your ear as he dragged your barstool a little closer to his. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist and pulled you into your side. 

“So what are our plans for the day?” you asked the boys and they all started brainstorming ideas. Because you’ve been dating Luke for so long, you’ve grown close with all his teammates. So when you all had a little free time, you would all go out together, usually to parties, but since there was an important game coming up, you all decided to do something else instead.

“Well actually y/n, there's this movie that we could go to or maybe-” one of the boys started but you cut them off, “actually! I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick, you guys figure out our plans”. You got up quickly, taking Luke's hand off of you and giving him a quick peck on the check to which he returned. 

Walking into the bathroom you whispered, “Okay so Hallie it's time for phase two!” as you shut the door behind yourself. You both sat in the bathroom for a few minutes so that the prank wasnt obvious. “It's been 3 minutes i’m going to go out now” Hallie said as she pulled y/n in front of the bathroom mirror so they could compare their looks. Hallie fixed her hair in the mirror, applied a little more lipgloss and made her way into the kitchen. 

“So what are we doing?” Hallie said as she walked through the kitchen door. The boys looked up at her entrance but made nothing of it. Hallie had to tilt her head down to hide her smile as she made her way over to Luke.

Luke chuckled when he saw Hallie take y/n's spot beside him at the island. He looked around at the boys to see if anyone aside from him noticed the switch. None of them did.

“Lukey pookie what's wrong with you? Why aren’t you being all lovey dovey with y/n” Ethan joked to Luke. He was completely oblivious to the girls’ prank.  

“Yeah that's no way to treat your girlfriend! y/n, i could treat you so much better! He's barely even looking at you” Duke said and the other boys chuckled. 

“There’s actually no way you guys are this dumb” Luke laughed leaning forward onto the island. He rubbed at his eyes and leaned forward on his stool, resting his head in the palm of his hands. 

Hallie laughed, she stood up off the stools and patted her pockets, “hey, i think i left my lipgloss in the bathroom im gonna go check” she said to which the boys all nodded at her. 

Hallie walked into the bathroom, filled y/n in on what happened, and then they switched. y/n walked into the kitchen, and gave Luke a kiss which he reciprocated and then he once again pulled her closer by wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Why the hell are you guys being so weird today?” Ethan asked. 

y/n and Luke just laughed, “there’s no way” y/n laughed, “i’ve known you guys for how long now and you still don't  know me?” Luke chuckled at the boys as they gave each other confused glances. 

“Literally what are you talking about…” ethan said again,

“Hello boys!” Hallie said while leaning against the kitchen doorway. The sounds of the boys gasps and the shocked expressions on their faces made you, Hallie, and Luke start laughing.  

“Nah there's no way…” “have you guys been switching places or something?” “HOLD ON! Is that why Luke wasn’t touching you earlier??” “How does he do it…” they boys started talking amongst themselves. They all looked shocked and confused on how they missed the switching. 

“Dudes you guys should see your faces! Absolutely priceless” Luke started laughing again. 

The boys then pulled you and Hallie to be side by side, so they could point out all your similarities to Luke. “Like i'm just saying i dont get how you tell them apart…” Duke said as he kept looking back and forth between the girls, “how do you do it?” he asked.

“I'm never telling you guys. this is just too good!” Luke replied and the boys all groaned. 

After more discussion on of how the girls looked identical, the group finally decided on a movie to watch. You and Hallie showed the boys the parent trap, and they swore that by next time they saw you both, that they would figure out who’s who. 

y/nuser

Liked by hallie, lhughes_06, and others

y/nuser: educating🫡👩‍💻 (slide 2: the boys faces when they found out hallie and i were switching places on them)

Load more comments

lhughes_06: still can't believe they cant tell u two apart

y/nuser: it's embarrassing at this point

edwards.73: Identical twins are siblings who are born at the same time, from the same mother, and who are genetically the same. It can be hard to tell one identical twin from the other, because they look alike.

bestiegirl: u guys are umichs mary kate and ashley fr🫡

hallie: the looks on their faces when they found out we parent trapped them😭😭

y/nuser: literally so bad😭

hallie: in luke we trust🤞

y/nuser: in luke we trust🫡

mackie.samo: Do you guys actually switch places all the time or…?

dylanduke25: i’m thinking back to every time I've talked to one of them alone to try and tell but… I think they should fr take ethan’s tattoo idea into suggestion

[delurkr]

Anne and James and sibling OCs in 1948

1948 being the year Anne and James married. Penelope is Anne's sister, and everybody else is James's family.

Cropped sections are further down. There's some connections from @108garys 's Super Massive Family Tree that play into everything (here's their portrait of older Penelope), and I'll leave it to them if they want to refresh everybody on the details. (Edit: 108garys gave lore in the notes). Some of the OCs have more lore than others, but I'm not getting into it here or doing deep dives about personalities and all that, so I just stuck together very non-deep little likes/dislikes/favorite activities lists for everyone. But first some notes on the art:

I went for a balance between dressy and casual, so most of these wouldn't be everyday outfits but none of them are formal either.

Nobody has naturally curly hair. Shirley has a perm, and Anne and Penelope use only curlers. (Unlike the other two, Penelope doesn't curl it every day).

If Anne's dress looks piecemeal that's because it is. Around 1948 was when women's fashion was transitioning from shorter wartime styles (minimum fabric) to longer hemlines, but ofc most women didn't just toss out all their old clothes, so the new things they bought were in the new style, while they also continued wearing what they had and sometimes altered their shorter things in various ways. The white border on Anne's dress is a recent addition, and so is the embroidered pocket because big pockets were also fashionable and it was intended to make the border look more like it belongs.

Shirley uses a brace, a built up shoe, and sometimes a cane due to effects from having polio when she was very young.

Bob has been in the U.S. Army for four or so years and he's currently a corporal. If part of his uniform is inaccurate then oh well because there were some details I just wasn't finding clear answers on (do point it out if you know something that's wrong tho). Also that's his hat he's holding in case it's hard to tell.

Ok now for the other stuff:

Anne, age 17 -

Likes: Dancing; recycling; Frank Sinatra music (don't spread it around); telephone party lines; the scratchy sound of crossing things off her to-do list.

Dislikes: Noisy children; poetry; men's cologne; bleached blonde hair; house pets; wrinkled clothes; rain on her hairdo; complainers; people with bad posture; anonymous love letters; being late; people who are late; unraked leaves; these peasants (most of the boys at school); being told she's too opinionated.

Favorite activities: Growing plants, mostly flowers; taking the mick out of James ❤

Penelope, age 8 -

Likes: Bicycling; puppies; reading, mostly fairytales; sticky sweets; movie stars.

Dislikes: Mud; talking to strangers; not having had her first kiss yet; never getting the lowdown after Anne's dates.

Favorite activity: Eavesdropping on the phone party line with Anne.

Shirley, age 24 -

Likes: Card games; chickens; picnics; reading; red on just about anything.

Dislikes: Snow; frogs; Bob; the sound of her own voice.

Favorite activity: Canoe rides to read on the open water. Her preferred victims to accompany her are James (she'll use her oldest-sibling authority for as long as she can) and whoever she happens to be dating (is that a weird date? idk but she calls it a no-go with a guy if he can't handle the quiet time).

Bob (Robert), age 22 -

Likes: Arm candy; being outside; cheating at card games; beer; animals, especially wildlife; pulling practical jokes on April 2.

Dislikes: Peas; serious conversations.

Favorite activities: Hunting; chasing women. (These things are not connected).

James, age 19 -

Likes: Holidays; history; picking dumb arguments; playing hockey when the pond freezes over; reading; PDA with Anne ❤

Dislikes: Waiting; hand-me-down clothes; being called Jimbo; having glasses.

Favorite activity: Finding money on the ground.

Clarence, age 11 -

Likes: Pocket knives; pirates; model train sets and dollhouses type stuff.

Dislikes: Surprises; hugs; getting up early; "old" people; getting his picture taken (that one's partly a joke, because I accidentally drew him looking a little moody for no reason).

Favorite activity: Fixing appliances and things around the house (under supervision because "fixing" is a bit of an overstatement. He can take things apart but has yet to learn how to properly put them back together).

Kathy (Katherine), age 7 -

Likes: Parties; collecting things; Brothers Grimm-style fairytales; terrible creature horror B movies.

Dislikes: Bugs, especially bees; nightmares from the terrible creature horror B movies.

Favorite activity: Poking dead animals. Trips to the butcher and dead mice found in the attic are her lifeline for now until she starts doing dissections in school. She definitely doesn't store said mice under her bed in jars she stole from the kitchen.

~~

Cool so now that everyone is sufficiently grossed out I'll leave it here for now 😊 Stay tuned I guess because sooner or later I'm going to follow this up with the three youngest when they're older, around 1959 because that was a happening point in time for them. And lastly, 108garys is free to hate anything I wrote because we share the OCs but I consulted them on very little of this lol.

[nebulein]

Spending my lunch break thinking about 1988 rookies to lovers to exes to teammates finding themselves thrust together again as they're The Last, struggling with everything that was between them, the team and the city, trying to reconcile how Nothing Good Lasts Forever (be it their relationship or them being on the Hawks, possibly their hockey careers). They had grown apart but now they're forced back together by circumstance much like in the beginning of their relationship, their lives too parallel to separate.

Because really, who else on the team can relate what it means, to suddenly stand before this decision and all it encompasses? Seabs and Sharpy retired as Hawks on their own terms (trades aside), Hoss and Shawzy forced out by injury, Duncs leaving for family reasons that Jonny can't begrudge. None of them have been here, at this fork, holding their destiny in their hands and yet having no choice at all.

"You good?" Pat asks, bumping his shoulder into Jonny's.

"Haven't felt good since 2019," Jonny mutters. It falls flat as a joke, even with Jonny's dry humor. "Sorry." He rubs across his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah." Pat doesn't smile, and this right here, this is why they're "Kane and Toews" again, for the last time of their careers. They haven't talked, haven't been close in forever, but suddenly Jonny wants to share a hotel room again just so he doesn't have to lie in bed alone at night, the world closing in until the room feels too small to hold an ounce of oxygen.

Sometimes even one day at a time seems too insurmountable a task.

"I'm Pat."

"Jonny." The handshake is dry but firm. "Nice to meet you."

Pat had known, of course, who Jonny was, the quiet but explosive kid from Manitoba, third overall in 2006, spent another year at UND.

"You planning to stay up?" Jonny had asked at the end of their first day of training camp, teeth white and sharp in his grin, and Pat had huffed, annoyed. Who did this guy think he was?

"Yeah." No time to show weakness, or doubt.

Jonny nodded, a short sharp jerk of his head, like he believed Pat. Like it was their decision to make. "See you there."

~

They had both stayed up, of course, Pat fueled by a desperate desire to show everyone that he could do it, that he belonged. The Hawks had picked him first overall and they hadn't picked wrong. He'd wanted to show the coaches, the staff, the reporters crowding into his stall every game asking about every turnover and mistimed pass, wanted to prove his family right and all his naysayers wrong, and maybe somewhere, a little bit, show Jonny.

~

They've got nothing left to prove to each other now. They tried to make a run of it and failed, shouting matches that somewhere turned from harmless arguments to barbs stuck deep under each other's skin, hitting where it hurts, their ammunition enough to sink each other whole until Pat had finally called it quits. Jonny had hated him then for giving up, hated himself for driving Pat away, hated everything, out of his mind with rage.

It had all gone to shit in other ways after '15, years and years of mediocrity that Jonny can't help but wonder. What if he'd been better? Nothing had clicked like 2010, all of them too dumb and young to know what they had at the time. It worked again twice after that, but ever since Panarin left keeping the team together had felt like trying to hold quicksand in his palms, Pat a million miles away and yet putting the team on his shoulders on the ice in ways that Jonny never could. He'd always been the one to hold the fort down in the room, or maybe that was Seabs really, everything worse after Seabs' hips had finally given out, maybe Jonny had just been deluding himself.

Jonny barely knows anyone in the locker room, and what's worse, he barely likes any of the guys that have come in to replace the last good pieces they had, Jonny still too bitter to give anyone a proper chance.

~

"We had a good run," Pat says, and Jonny wants to shout in his face 'no, fuck that, we didn't. We could've been so much more.'

He wants a do-over, a second chance, the last six years of his life back. And maybe then Jonny could show everyone, could show Pat that he's better than this, that there's another way.

But the truth is, he isn't. Everyone knows Pat's the superior player.

They used to be Kane and Toews.

Kane and Toews

Kane and Toews

Kane and Toews

Kane

[freebooter4ever]

unrelated to the stick but have you seen cooking with geno?

Haaaaaaaaaaaa. I have :) i mean...what self respecting geno fangirl hasnt? If im honest i think it was the first thing with him that i watched, but i was not paying attention to him at all at all then. Aside from noticing that Fuck He's Exactly My Type If I Ever Had One and being very annoyed by it. My ADHD research spiral in the summer of 2022 went something like this: ra*ngers -> pana*rin -> russ*an red w*ngs -> larion*ov...and then i side tracked over to alyonka's mental health/ E*D*O videos, and then her podcast which also interviewd several hockey players including her brother (which are really interesting btw)...tldr i actually watched that video more curious about alyonka than geno, cause in her more current stuff she talks a lot about those early 2000's days and what it was like working in the league as a woman. Unfortunately for geno at that point the only thing i knew about him was that he was on the penguins and that he said some shit in one interview about bread, and i had already decided based on that and his instgrm that he looked like an asshole. I cannot find that interview quote about breadman, for all i know it could have all been made up, but it reaaaaally made me dislike him. So the first time i watched the video i was doing my best to ignore geno and pretend like he wasnt radiating attractiveness. My one conclusion about that video and a few other old pens videos with alyonka (and not geno but other players) i watched was that i was surprised how much more informal things used to be. She felt very casual and more like a friend to the players than the more professional style interviews i have seen while watching this stuff live now.

And if none of that research spiral makes sense just be grateful you dont have ADHD.

ANYWAY then lucky for geno he features in my favorite hockey photo ever - that one of him sitting on the boards with the snow and baby blue jersey. So i had to draw that photo, and then i started paying more attention to him that season, and watched that dan and sushi interview, and realized shit i might have been wrong about this guy. And maybe my change of heart only has a little to do with his Very Pretty Eyes.

And moooooonths (a year?) later i finally rewatched the cooking with geno video and had to basically admit that my initial gut instinct of Oh Shit He's Hot reaction remained the same. He's a terrible cook, somehow even worse than me which is saying something cause i'm really fucking bad at it myself. But his physicality/personality rather shines in the clip. (i have heard people say he was sexualizing or staring at alyonka??? It doesnt look like that to me, they just seemed very comfortable with one another and maybe a little teasing but im not the best at recognizing flirting etc). Young Geno's got that same confidence/swagger as old(er) geno that in most guys would come across as arrogant but with him it's very quiet and understated. He makes a lot of dumb jokes. Even on my second viewing i still didnt understand the basketball joke. He didn't talk much but there were a lot of shy smiles. He reminded me a lot of my old friend ethan in attitude and height - just like how he kind of awkwardly looms in the background at times, and how all his obvious strength is sort of soft in a gentle way. He also seemed like a guy very willing to listen, which was cute. But -and this might be me projecting. But sometimes when people try to 'teach' me how to cook i play dumb just so i can check out and not use my brain and let them do all the thinking and tell me exactly what i need to do. Its very lazy and i recognize this but sometimes my brain is tired. And i swear geno was maybe doing that to alyonka at times. Like i think his effort in the video was at most 70%. Maybe 50%. It takes one lazy cook to know another one. And i am a very lazy cook.

Sorry anon, ive been cleaning and working all day so you got more than you asked for, basically a character study, whoops.

Oh, also on the second rewatch i realized the weird short grimlin who only appeared to eat the food and then disappeared was tanger. I did NOT recognize him. I still cant really believe thats him.

[lovewriting-5]

Until Dawn

Chapter 1

Chapter 2, part 1

Chapter 2, part 2

We walk down the stairs and Ashley and Chris were already in the living room by the fire. “Well...well, what took the two of you so long?” Chris asks. I had a hard time keeping a straight face. It felt good to be close with Josh again after a few days.

The four of us were talking about how cold it was in the lodge. The heat had to get turned on. I tell Josh “The fire is nice but it would be great if the heat was on.” I wrap my arms around myself for warmth. He wraps his arms around me to help. He says “Come on...”

Chris, Ashley and I were betting how long it would take him to get it started. Chris asks “How long do you think it’ll take him?” To be nice, I bet “An hour.” Ashley says “My money’s on blankets for everyone!” Chris tells him “You can do it, man. We believe in you.” She says “Yeah! Totally! Woo!” I do a chant “Let’s go Jo-osh, let’s go!” His arms tighten around me. I laugh.

There was the sound of footsteps moving around upstairs. Josh removes his arms. He tells all three of us, “Alright, peanut gallery, you know what? I got an idea.” I ask, suspiciously “What?” He continues “Okay well I am pretty sure that somewhere in this crazy place we used to have...a spirit board.” Ashley asks “A what?”

Sarcastically, Chris asks “Wow you have a ‘spirit board’?” I ask him, concerned “Wait are you saying...we should have a séance?” Still joking, Chris says “Those things are a joke, man. They don’t do shit.” Josh says with a little difficulty, “No way bro. We used to do it all the time. Me and...well...” This isn’t a good idea.

The footsteps reach the bottom. I turn and say “Hey Sam.” As she gets closer to us, she says “Hi. Hey Josh. No hot water’s kinda major oversight doncha think?” He tells her “Yeah yeah, just gotta fire up the boiler. It’s in the basement.” Turns back to Chris and Ashley, “You guys see if you can find the spirit board.”

Ashley gets up from the ottoman, “Chris, let’s go find it! It’ll be like a scavenger hunt!” Hesitantly, he says “Ummm...okay...guess so.” Josh says “Rad. You’re not gonna regret it.” The two of them leave.

Josh asks me “You up for a ride-along?” Nervously, I say “Sure.” I turn to Sam, “Sam, do you want to help us?” She looks behind me, “Uhhh...no, you two go for it. I’ll wait up here.”

We make our way to the direction of the basement. He pauses and says, mischievously “Hey. You notice how I gave Chris and Ashley a mission together? Yeah I was thinking they could use some ‘alone time.’” Supportively, I say “They are very sweet together. I wish they’d just freakin’ get on with it already.” A little too enthused, he says “I swear they just need like...something to bond over, y’know? Some sort of traumatic event to send them into each other’s arms.”

He opens a drawer and takes out a flashlight. I open the door that leads to the basement. Standing by the doorframe, it takes Josh a few minutes. He says “You know...” I ask “Yes?” He begins “I just wanted to say...” I ask “What?” Thoughtfully, he tells me “It really means a lot to me that everyone came back this year and you know, that you came.”

I smile, “Josh. I care about you and glad to hear you are doing a little better. We’re here for you. Really. Whatever you need. Whenever. We’re all gonna make it through this...together.” I give him a kiss on the cheek. He says with a sort of devilish smile, “Um...I want us to have a good time, you know...”

We continue down the stairs of the basement. Knowing that the stairs are crumbling a little, he tells me “Watch your step.” Jokingly, I tell him “I think I can handle a little old set of stairs.” Sarcastically, he says “Uh-huh.”

I follow him to the boiler cabinet. As he opens the cabinet, he says “Sorry to drag you down into the bowels.” I say “It’s fine. Like I said the fire is nice but some heat and hot water would be nice.” He says “I mean I wouldn’t want you coming down here on your own, you know?” Jokingly, I say “Such a gentleman.”

Looking around at the dark basement with a ton of boxes and the only other light is coming from the small windows. I tell him “Well it’s definitely creepy down here.” He says “Yep. Not a place to be on your own.”

He hands me the flashlight, “Here, can you...can you hold this steady?” There was a noise in the distance. I turn around to see where it came from. Now I’m starting to get a little freaked out.

I tighten my grip on the flashlight. I ask a little freaked out, “Josh...what was that?” Not believing, he says “What was what? Just shine it here so I can see what I’m doing.” I say “Fine.”

There was another sound, I turned to see where it came from. Josh says from the boiler cabinet, “(Y/N)...Can you just keep the light still so I can see, okay?”

This time I finally held the flashlight steady. He got everything hooked up. He stands up and smiles, “Nice one. Okay first things first: we gotta increase the water pressure before we get the boiler fired up.” I look at the machine, “Sounds kinda complicated.” Reassuringly, he tells me “No, it’s actually pretty simple.”

I turn the knob, waited and saw the light turn on. I pushed the button but apparently it didn’t work, “Damn!” He says “It’s okay, just try again.” I tried again but missed it, “Ugh!” He tells me “Relax...It’s not that hard. Just press the button when the light comes on.” I take a deep breath and let it out. I try again and got it.

The boiler fired up. Proud of myself, I say “Whoa!!” Josh was pretty proud too, “That’s more like it. Alright! Five, girl!” He holds up his hand and I slap it. I excitedly, say “Yeah!” He closes the boiler cabinet and locks it.

Curiosity hits me, I ask “Josh...so upstairs when I asked Sam if she would like to help...Did you tell her not to join us?” He gets a shocked expression, “What? No...why would I do that?” I tell him as I step a little closer, “Are you sure? Because I swear Sam looked behind me to see if she should.” Looking a little guilty, he begins “Well....I might -“

In the dark, damp basement there was another noise. I turn in the direction that I think it’s coming from, “What the hell is that?” I back a little closer to him. He says, jokingly “Could be a lot of things...and none of them nice...” as he wiggles his finger on my arm. I push it away, “Hey, quit it.”

He says with a chuckle “I’m just...just ‘Joshing’ ya.” “Har har.” I tell him. Trying to point it out, he says “You were really freaked out.”

Shaking my head in protest, “I was not scared.” With a sly grin, he says as he looks me up and down “No, no, you just jumped because you wanted to squeeze in some aerobics?” I roll my eyes.

After a few years of hanging out with the Washington family, I have picked up on some acting skills. I put on a terrified look and look behind him. I look from him to behind, “Oh my God - - don’t move - -“ Sounding a little concerned, he asks “What?” Sounding more terrified, I tell him “There’s something behind you.” Trying to sound brave, he says “Yeah right.”

Really wanting to get him, I continue “Josh...Seriously. There’s something back there...” He turns and looks over his shoulder. I tell him, very satisfied “Ha...Got - -ch - -ah.” Putting an arm around my waist as he pulls me closer, “Alright. Alright. Your point.” I wrap my arms around the back of his neck, “Thirty - - Love.” Josh raises an eyebrow, “What? No...Where’d you get the first point?” I ask “It doesn’t start at thirty?” He says “No. Fifteen.” I say, confidently “Oh. Well, I’m more of a ping-pong gal.” As I get the last sentence out, he kisses me.

The two of us probably would have stayed down there for awhile, if the sound didn’t happen again. We pull away. Really? I was just starting to get used to being down here.

Catching my breath, I ask “Okay, so you hear that too, right?” I look at Josh, “Josh?” He removes his arm and moves in front of me. He asks “What?” Starting to get freaked out again, “The rhythm’s like, weirdly regular...” We walk a little closer to the sound. He says “Not...No...Nothing ‘regular’ about it...”

As we walk closer to it, I place my right hand on his arm and my left hand in his right. His hand grip tightens. I ask “Maybe we should, you know, check it out?” He asks “Why?” Not really knowing what to say, I tell him “I dunno, what if it’s like, a pipe that’s about to burst or some problem with the furnace?” He tells me “Unlikely.” I say to convince him, “If it were me I wouldn’t want this place to burn down on my watch.” He pauses and then says “...Yeah. Right.”

As we venture farther into the basement, all of a sudden, a figure in a brown robe and hockey mask jumps out. Josh and I scream and run for our lives. Josh in front, says “Whoa - (Y/N) - whoa.” Along the path, I grab an obstacle and pull it down. The figure is blocked. Josh and I make it up the stairs and I try to open the door. I am struggling to get it open. The figure is getting closer.

I am throwing all my weight against this door, “Oh come ON now why are these doors locked?!” In a panic, Josh says “To...To keep out strangers!!”

I feel Josh get closer. The figure stops right in front of us, “Hey...” Confused, I ask “...What?” The figure says, again “Heeyyyyyy...” Still confused, I ask “...WHAT THE HELL?!”

The figure removes the mask and hood. He revealed himself as Chris. Thinking it is funny, Chris says “Boom! You just got monked!” I can feel anger starting to rise, “WHAT!!!” Josh says, proudly “Nice. Nice one. That was good.” First to Josh and then to Chris, I ask “No it was not. Why w...Why would you do that?”

Holding his arm out, Chris says “There’s all this cool old movie crap down here. What, was I...was I not supposed to take advantage of the opportunity?” To Chris, I ask “Are you...are you serious?” I turn to Josh and push him a little, “Were you in on this, you putz?” As he gives Chris a high-five, he says “Nope. But I wish I was! That was too good!” I tell him “Don’t high-five that.”

The three of us get back to the main part of the lodge. After calming down a little, I tell them “I’m ready to admit that your dumb little prank may have had a slight whiff of humor to it.” Chris says “Jokemaster!” I tell him to make myself clear, “I said nothing about jokes. I said your prank, which was dumb -“ Chris begins ascending the stairs. Josh walks over to the table to set the flashlight down. I wait at the bottom of the steps with my arms crossed for him.

Josh jokingly, says “Holy crap you were scared. Admit it.” Sternly, I tell him “I was not!” I begin ascending the stairs. Not giving up, he says “Come on, you totally pissed yourself!” Done with the joke, I say “Josh!”

We joined the others upstairs. I go and stand near the fireplace. Josh places his arms around my waist and places a kiss on my right temple. I whisper, trying to hide a smile “I hate you.” Knowing I can’t stay mad at him long, he whispers “No, you don’t.” I lay my cheek on his arm. Ashley walks over to Chris and notices his outfit of choice. She asks in disgust, “What...in god’s name...are you wearing?” Playing along, Chris tells her “I found my true calling.” He makes the sign of the cross in the air. Putting her hands in a praying motion, she tells him, sarcastically “Please tell me you’re going to take a vow of silence.”

Chris moves his mouth without sound. To make him quit the charade, I ask “Okay okay...Did you at least find the thingy?” Chris looks at me and pulls a board out of his robe, “Boi - oi - oi - oing! Here’s our one way ticket to the spirit realm!” Ashley says “Hmmm.”

Josh tells Sam “Sam, we got the boiler up and running. So the hot water should be working.” Grateful, she says “Thank you. I see a hot bath in my crystal ball. So have fun!”

[drartemysia]

[Images description: In the first picture, Jack Eichel bends towards a kneeling Logan Thompson in front of the Vegas net after the Golden Knights have been defeated by the San Jose Sharks in the shootout. In the next picture, Eichel and Thompson are joined by teammates Chandler Stephenson and Max Pacioretty. Stephenson is standing on the left, his right arm over Logan Thompson's right shoulder. End of description.]

Putting these here. I am not ready to deal emotionally with any of these pictures or what they represent, but I wanted them in a place where I know these people can be looked at with some freaking respect. Today on social media has been A Mess I would wish only upon my worst enemies and it maybe dumb, I may be an oversensitive simpleton, but it genuinely hurt.

It's hard sometimes to be a fan of hockey when nobody in my life knows even what it is as I've never lived in any place that could be considered a traditional hockey market or even a market at all. Online spaces, namely social media, are the only ones I have access to that have a form of community built into it to enjoy this hockey thing that I love to pieces beyond any reasonable amount with other likely minded people. I try to enjoy it from a place of love most of the time, whenever I morally can, and while I am not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, I do my best at trying to always keep the surroundings of my person a nice, welcoming environment. It does not always feel like that and it's fine - rivalries are fine! even among fans! the absurd stories I hear from my dad and the violent rivalry he had in his youth with the soccer team of the next town over are hilarious). Right now, it just feels that any sentiment towards the VGK, these glittery mf'ers that I love to pieces, has gone beyond any reasonable rivalry, dipping straight into gratuitous malevolence.

Perhaps it's me. Perhaps I'm too sensitive. I hope it's me. I hope I'm too sensitive.

The way it feels to me, right now (and thanks to aily, who always makes me think of contemporary art), is a bit (and I want to stress: a bit, I'm making an analogy with a much bigger issue) like the famous 'Rhythm 0' performance by Marina Abramovic, who tried to show how easy it is to become desensitised to violence in a collective setting of hate. During her performance, when she lay down to be subjected to any violence the public wanted to bestow upon her, she observed the diminishing hesitance of the participants as time progressed: they piled up, collectively abdicating at the civic, social, human responsibility to respect their fellow human(s). On a scale of immensely smaller relevance, it feels like that. The joke was only funny the first 25 times; it's then turned sour and - at least for me - hurtful. None of the people who 'joked' about hating the VGK could actually harm me physically because we are all safe behind our screens in our little homes, but in a place like twitter where they only things you are allowed to throw out are words, these somehow matter more. They weigh more. I'm kinda in shambles about this *gestures*, if you couldn't tell.

The things I read about Jack, about Robin, these past few days. Last night, even. Completely unnecessary. Everyone could have stopped at the memes about a rookie in his fifth NHL game pulling this upset - it is legitimately a great story and a great burn, but few stopped there. So I kinda needed a little space to be sad that was public but also not. And this is it. This is my space of sadness about all of this.

I'm not tagging this with the team's name or anything. I literally have close to no followers, so this is the most protected I can be, but please, if you are reading this, do not make this end up in the hands of somebody who'd be cruel. Thanks.

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate the way you drive my car

So, we’re ignoring the fact that it’s 4 am but here I am with the second part of 10 things I hate about you. Ignore typos, I’ll fix them at some point (maybe ?).

Also, this might be a little bit of, like, soft smut???? Unsure, but hey, stuff happens. I don’t know if this actually counts.

NOTE: the line about being ‘a pop-up book from hell’ I’m pretty sure that line is from Gilmore Girls that I used in here (I changed it a bit but still gotta give credit)

I hope you like it!

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

__________________________

“Because we both know that’s not true.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

----------

“I need to ask you a huge favor,” you hear him say on the other end of the call as you’re pacing around your apartment out of boredom. 

You groan, knowing that nothing good could come of him asking you for something at ten am on a Saturday. “No.”

“You don’t even know what it is!” he whines on the other end.

“But I know you and know that it’s probably not something I’m going to like if you have to call and ask me.”

“Can you at least hear what I need before you make a decision?” Matthew huffs, clearly a little bothered by the fact that you were dismissing him before giving him a chance. 

You can’t help but laugh imagining the pout he has on his face, the one he would be giving you in person that always, without fail, made you say yes to whatever he was asking of you. But you weren’t in person, so instead of conceding, you tease him with, “Hard maybe, but you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”

“I need to borrow your car.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not!” he whines again. You can hear him mumbling to himself about what other options he could think that he had, knowing that he had none as it was if you were the one he was calling.

“Why do you need my car? Where’s yours?” 

“We need alcohol and all the boys are busy. And my car is in the shop, the brakes were being a bitch. I didn’t want them to crap out on me when I need to make a sudden stop or something.”

“Yeah, because we both know you’re good at stopping even with good brakes,” you tease.

You hear him laugh on the other end, so strong and genuine that hearing him made you stop and smile for a moment. “What can I say, I pull out all the stops. And yet, I can never use them to get you in bed.” He closes his eyes, thankful that you couldn’t see him regretting saying something that stupid to you. If he kept up this shit with you, you would have a list of way more than ten things that you hated about him. “But, please, can I borrow your car?” You stop for a moment to think, really not wanting to hand over your keys to him. “Your silence means no?”

“You live two blocks from a liquor store. Are you fucking joking?” you let out.

“I never joke about fucking, especially with you,” he says, forcing you to roll your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. He really did mean it, no matter how oblivious you were to that fact. “But that one doesn’t have what we want and the nearest one that has our shit is too far to walk to.” 

“I do not trust you to drive my car,” you tell him, hearing the line go dead. You pull the phone away from your ear to see that he was trying to switch to Facetime, probably to wear you down with his stupid pout that always made you say yes. “There is no way I am letting you drive my car.” 

“Y/N, I am begging. I will do anything.” He juts out his lip, batting his eyes at you in hopes of convincing you.

“I’ll drive you there.”

“I feel like I’m two seconds from death every time I get in a car with you behind the wheel.” 

“Order an Uber.”

“But you’re cheaper!” 

Your jaw drops as you can’t help but scoff at what he just said. He can’t really think that saying something like that to you would work. He didn’t mean it like that, just that it was easier to buy you a bottle of wine than pay for the Uber there, back and the tip. But he wasn’t thinking about that enough to fully explain. You study the background behind him, clearly walking into a familiar building, not quite able to make out why you knew the building based on the angle he held the camera. “Wait, where are you?” 

“Bye!” he says, hanging up on you immediately without you being able to get an answer.

“Evie!” you yell, clearly frustrated with Matthew’s antics. You wait to hear her open her door, praying that she was awake. “Evelina!” you screech again.

You hear her door open and slam shut, her bare feet hitting the tile of the floor in the hallway as she makes her way to you, “If you go any higher, only dogs will hear you. Why are you waking me up?”

“I have another thing to add to the list.”

She groans, closing her eyes and dropping her head back as her eyes followed to the ceiling. “You know how to write. The list is literally on the fridge. This is not something you needed me for.”

“Well, Miss ‘They have to be legitimate reasons,’” you mock her voice, “I had to make sure it was a real reason by your standards.”

“What else could you hate about Matthew?”

“I hate when he drives my car.” 

“When the fuck does he do that?” 

“When I asked her if I could get alcohol from the store on the other side of the city,” you hear Matthew’s voice behind you, causing both of you to jump. 

“Jesus, you’re like the pop-up book from Hell. How the fuck did you get in here? The door was locked!” 

“Evelina gave me a key,” he says, waving his key ring in the air as if you could tell which one he was referring to in the mess of keys.

You turn back to Evelina, your mouth open, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. Everything about your expression said, ‘what the hell?’ without verbally saying it. She shrugs, obviously still groggy from being woken up by your screaming. “He’s here all the time and you always happen to be busy when he’s knocking at the door. It was the third key our landlord gave us, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You open and close your mouth like a fish, unable to figure out what to say. Of all the people she could give the spare key to Matthew of all people. 

“So why do you hate when I drive your car?” Matthew cuts the silence out. 

“Well if it’s anything like the way you skate, then I don’t think I want to see it.” 

“I said I would do anything!” he whines, Evelina groans, leaving the two of you to head to the kitchen, presumably to write the new thing on the list. 

“And what does that entail?”

“I would prefer something in the bedroom,” he flirts, earning another eye roll from you.

“How about you start by getting my bag from my bedroom and then we’ll go,” you say, waving him off and practically running to the kitchen to find Evelina. “Matthew doesn’t know about the list, right?”

Evelina looks at you, hesitating to answer. Something tells her that him knowing the entire plan wouldn’t bode well with you. “Did you tell him about it?”

“No.”

“Then, no,” she lies. “And the car thing doesn’t count. You’ve never had him drive your car before. Plus, why would him knowing be a bad thing?”

“Because you know him. He’s just gonna flirt with me and try to make me forget that I hate him. You know I’m a sucker for a sweet guy.”

She looks at you for a moment, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Ok, I’m going to list all the reasons why you’re wrong, and then I’m going back to bed because I don’t want to deal with you anymore.” You roll your eyes at her, something you had already done a lot today, yet still feel the need to keep doing. “So, one. I really do not know him that well, all I know is that he’s clearly in love with you. Plus, I’m closer with Elias, remember? Two. You clearly do not know what flirting is because you two flirt with each other all the time. Every day. Every minute. It’s annoying. Three. You have a very specific type, and sweet isn’t always a given. I know you have dated three guys, and all three of them were hockey players who always got in fights, had curly hair, really nice eyes, and are always someone pest-like. Does that sound like anyone?”

“None of that is true.”

“All of that is true,” she counters, leading to the two of you going back and forth, bickering about the validity of her three point list. 

“Hey, is this it?” Matthew interrupts the two of you, holding up your bag.

“Yes, let’s go,” you say, taking the bag from him and pushing him out the door. “You head down and start up my car, the keys are by the door, Evelina just needs to finish the list first.” You swear you see his eyes go wide and look at your roommate before he darts out the front door. You could have meant the list of alcohol she wanted. Evelina wouldn’t lie to you about him knowing about the hate list. “You’re wrong,” you tell Evelina.

She throws her hands in the air, walking back to her room,  “Don’t bother me unless you finally realize you love him or you can actually add ‘the way he drives my car’ to your list.”

“I hate you,” you call to her in a sing-songy voice.

“Love you, too,” you hear her reply, closing her door. 

You go down to your car, hearing it before seeing it in your spot since Matthew had already turned the volume on your radio up louder than you ever wanted it to go. Your hand reaches for the volume button before you even put the seatbelt on, muting the music to tell him, “There is absolutely no way you’re listening to the music this loud. How can you hear yourself think?” 

“I’m honestly surprised you even believe I think. But did Ev give you her list?” 

“No, she left it on the fridge,” you say, without thinking.

“The fridge?”

You hesitate, not wanting to tell him about the list. You hated more things about him than you liked, so why did you have to keep reminding yourself about that? And why was it so hard to come up with things to put on there. “It was the grocery list, she’s buying the stuff after her nap and needed to know what I wanted for food,” you lie, hoping he would buy it. 

“Is whipped cream on the list?” he asks, pulling out of the garage. The smirk on his face tells you that you shouldn’t ask to elaborate whatever thought was running through his mind, but you couldn’t help but ask anyway. “So you can spray it all over me and lick it off.” 

“You’d have to clean up my vomit right after,” you joke, hearing his laugh again. “Who’s to say that I wouldn’t want you licking it off me, instead?” you flirt back, knowing it would get something out of him.

Hearing you say that makes him stop breathing for a moment, letting his mind wander to the image of that scene. His entire body tenses up thinking about it, only to be snapped out by you yelling, “Brake, brake, Matthew, brake!” He slams on the brakes of your car, narrowly avoiding rear ending the person in front of you. “This is why your brakes are crapping out!” you squeal, eyes wide with fury at his nonattention to the road in front of him. “I’m driving home, you are not allowed to drive my car back.” 

“Calm down, are you dead?”

“I just died a little on the inside.” 

The smirk from before returns to his face, “We both know you die a little every time we go to work, I’m just helping move that along.” Still at the red light, he takes his eyes off the road to look at you, the smirk turning into a soft smile.

You can’t help but bite part of your bottom lip, the rest of your lips forming a smile. His eyes flick between yours and your lips, knowing that he wanted to kiss you. You tear your eyes away to look at the road, fully aware of his eyes still on you, “Green light.” 

The two of you drive the rest of the way in silence. Was that some sort of moment between the two of you? If he hadn’t been driving, would he have kissed you? And would you have let him? 

No, you wouldn’t kiss your best friend. Nothing would make you want to kiss him. You take out your phone, pulling up your conversation with Evelina. ‘Add the way he drives my car to the list. Or the way he drives in general. I don’t care.’ You sigh, hesitating before hitting send.

“You ok?” you hear Matthew say, hitting send before you can decide not to as you pull into the parking lot of the liquor store.

“Oh, yeah. My boss is just asking me some stuff about one of my projects at work,” you lie to him. Evelina responds, just with an eye roll emoji.  

“Alright,” Matthew says, leading you into the liquor store, “Get something for you and something for Evelina and I’ll pay for it.” 

You just nod, both of you giving an awkward smile to the other as you went your separate ways in the store. Evelina needed another bottle of her favorite wine, but you had no idea what you wanted. You eventually find yourself looking at a bottle of wine with Snoop Dogg on the label, of all people. “What’s that?” Matthew startles you, causing you to almost drop the bottle right on the ground.

“This wine brand called 19 Crimes,” you say, showing him the bottle, “Snoop Dogg is a partner in the company.”

“19 Crimes? Is that how many we’re going to commit in the bedroom our first time,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You smile and roll your eyes at him. “It’s a reference to British and Australian history, Matthew,” you tell him, admittedly leaning in a little to his touch. 

“Ok?”

“So starting in the 1780s or 90s, Britain, instead of killing their convicts, would send them to Australia as punishment. If you committed one of 19 Crimes, you would be sent there, starting a colony of criminals and eventually turning into the down under we know and love today.” 

“What are the 19 crimes?” He asks, leading you through the store.

“The first is grand larceny, or theft above the value of one shilling.” 

His hand moves from your waist into your back pocket, your breath hitching slightly at his touch. “Keep going,” he whispers into your air, still leading you around the store. 

“The second: petty larceny, which is theft under one shilling.” You feel his fingers start to tense up in your pocket, sending a shiver down your spine as his touch became more intimate. Without waiting, you keep going, “The third was buying or receiving stolen goods.”

He pulls you closer to him, tightening the grip he has on you as he starts to grab bottles from the shelves with his free hand and put them into the cart he was pushing. “What’s the fourth?”

“Stealing, buying, or receiving lead, iron or copper.” 

“Seems weird,” he notes.

“The fifth will really get you: impersonating an Egyptian.”  

He laughs a low laugh, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Weirdly specific, but keep telling me more.” You could be telling him anything right now, and he would probably be going just as crazy as he was now. Keeping you slightly in front of him, he was glad he couldn’t see how red in the face he was getting from the history you were telling him.

“Six would be stealing from furnished lodgings, so anything stamped with the London County Council seal would send you to Australia. Seven was setting fire to underwood, which is undergrowth in a forest.” You were doing everything in your power to restrain yourself, your hand taking his from your back pocket and moving it back around to the front of you. His fingers find their way into your front pocket, settling on your hip bone as his thumb hooks onto your belt loop.

“Eight,” you keep going before he can say anything else, feeling his gaze on you as you try to ignore the tightening grip, “is stealing letters, advancing the postage, and secreting the money, which is robbing the post office of mail. The ninth was assaulting with an intent to rob.”

You realize Matthew had led you to the back corner of the store, secluded from the other customers. Behind the stake of boxes and the shelves of bottles that surrounded you, no one could see you. Everything he was doing, you would have the same reaction to any boy, you tell yourself. It’s not because it’s Matthew, it’s because he’s just a guy. 

“Number ten?” he whispers in your ear, turning you so that you face him.

“Number ten is stealing fish from a pond or river,” you let out, his hands on your waist as he pulls you close to him. He presses his forehead against yours, your hands on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, almost in sync with yours as you keep going. “Similarly, 11 was stealing or destroying roots, trees or plants.”

“Eight more,” he says, kissing your forehead. 

Your eyes flutter closed, knowing that looking at him would only make this worse for you. “Because of the divorce laws that were in place, number 12 was common: bigamy, the act of marriage while already in another marriage.” He places another kiss on your forehead, his hands on the small of your back to pull him even closer to you, allowing you to feel everything he felt. 

“13 was assaulting, cutting or burning clothing. 14: counterfeiting the copper coin.” His kisses start to trail down the side of your face, tracing your jaw bone as you continue, “Clandestine, or secret marriage was 15.”

“I love that you know this. Four more,” you hear him say, kissing your collar bone as you try to stifle the moan that escaped from your lips anyway, praying that no one saw you two doing this. 

Your eyes still closed, you continue, “Stealing a shroud out of a grave was 16. 17: watermen carrying too many passengers on the Thames, if any drowned.”

You let out another involuntary groan before he pulls away, a low chuckle escaping his lips as his forehead is once again pressed on yours. You open your eyes to see his blue ones staring straight into your soul. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as he whispered, “I think it’s pronounced ‘Tems,’ babe.”

A grin on your face, knowing he was right, “Where I’m from, we say it phonetically.” His eyes flicked between yours and your lips, just like they did in your car earlier. “18 was incorrigible rogues, people who had already been convicted as a rogue or vagabond and resists arrest, who broke out of prison and person reprieved from capital punishment.” 

“What’s the last one?” he whispers again, his lips nearly ghosting yours.

“The nineteenth and final crime that would get a British convict sent to Australia was embeuling naval stores, or stealing naval supplies, in certain cases.”

His lips hovering against yours, not quite touching but close enough to be begging to connect. “In certain cases, would you want this?” 

You knew what he was referring to. Did he actually want this? You were trying to convince yourself that he didn’t, but it was hard to believe that. “Matthew. We...” you hesitate, denying that fact that you wanted to. It wasn’t because it was Matthew, you would be this way with any boy. “We can’t.” 

He exhales, pulling away from you. “Ok,” he says, a weak smile. He takes your hand, pushing the cart with the other towards the front of the store. You drop his hand, reaching for your phone to text Evelina.

‘I hate the way he teases me,’ you send her, not wanting to give her any more context. Ignoring the vibration that meant she was responding to you, you watch Matthew as he checks out the copious amount of alcohol that he had gotten for the guys. He bites his bottom lip as he pays, his chest now steadily moving up and down as his breath had calmed down from before. 

‘This list has to work for me,’ he thinks to himself. He couldn’t let something like that happen again. He couldn’t let you think of ten things. He didn’t even know how close you were to being done. 

The two of you get back into your car, the haul almost completely filling up your trunk. You hadn’t said a word to each other, but you did need to know how Matthew had planned on getting everything back to his place.

With Matthew in the driver's seat, you feel like you need to apologize. As much as you hate to admit it, you were definitely feeling something because of Matthew. Was it because it was specifically Matthew? No, no, it was just... you didn’t know. Something. But, did that just change anything between you? 

“Hey, Y/N?” Matthew snaps you out of your thoughts and back to reality. 

“Yeah?”

“Why did you know all that?” 

“We talked about the English colonization of Australia very briefly when I was in high school, but we never went in depth with it. Then I saw this video of a news report in Australia where a woman had submitted a comment saying that if they didn’t like having all the criminals in their country, they should just find another island to send them to. The news casters were laughing so hard saying that that was how Australia was pretty much founded. So I looked into what it took for Britain to send their convicts to Australia. I guess I liked it so much that I just memorized the list? I don’t know, it’s dumb,” you discount yourself. “Sometimes I feel like people forget that I’m actually a little intelligent.” 

“I think you’re more than a little intelligent; you’re the smartest person I know.” He turns onto his street, you finally realizing that he had driven to his place to make it easier to bring everything up. “I love y-” he starts, realizing he can’t say what he wants to, “I love that you know so much.” 

You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, getting out of the car to help him carry everything up to his place. You do so in silence, needing two trips to your car to get his haul into his apartment. “I’ll see you later?” he asks, once it’s all in. After that, he couldn’t stay in the same room as you, knowing that he would want to do so much more than what had happened in the store. 

“Yeah, see ya,” you say, going out the door. You shut it behind you, leaning your back against it. You close your eyes, head touching the cold wood. You needed to finish that list as fast as possible. Seven more things before it was complete. “Fuck.”

[midnightsnyx]

Josh Anderson - Gone With The Wind

pairing: josh anderson/reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

my masterlist

Josh Anderson

Friends was a term loosely used to define your relationship with Josh.  You were friends but the two of you were always teetering on the edge of something more. Everybody noticed it, too. Your friends and his teammates. They teased the two of you about it sometimes and there wasn’t really much you could say that would deny it because if you were looking at how the two of you acted with each other, you would notice the same things.

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend weekends together when he wasn’t away for hockey. You were either at his apartment or the two of you at yours. This morning in particular, he had stayed overnight at yours and you had planned a brunch with some of your friends and ended up sleeping in so you were rushing around the apartment while Josh sat at the island, eating a bowl off cereal and watching you in amusement.  You were always running late for something and it was one of the things that he loved about you.

When you finally were ready to leave, he grinned.

“Forgetting something?”

Without really thinking, you lean in and briefly kiss him, not realizing what you’ve done until you pull away and see his beet red face.

“Um, I meant this,” he says, holding your keys and wallet in his hand, “but thanks?”

Mortified, you snatch the items out of his hands and race out of the apartment, ignoring his voice calling your name.

By the time you reach the cafe, you’re still feeling embarrassed and constantly checking your phone waiting for a rejection text from Josh. Your friends pick up on your anxiety because Eliza, one of your closest friends, nudges you.

“What’s wrong?”

You weren’t planning on telling anyone but the words fall out of your mouth without permission.

“I kissed Josh.”

You can’t say you’re not surprised by the cheering from around the table but it just makes you want to crawl under it from embarrassment.

“What made you finally do it?” Another friend squeals and you cover your face with your hands.

“It was an accident.”

The table falls quiet and you risk looking at your friends who all look confused.

Lisa speaks up first, heavy sarcasm laced in her tone. “An accident? How do you kiss someone by accident? Did you fall on him and somehow end up locking lips?”

Your glare is weak when you look at her. “No, I just-”

“Were you drunk?” Eliza asks and you sigh, shaking your head before explaining what happened.

Your friends all look different levels of amused when you finish the short explanation. You want to melt through the floor while you wait for one of them to say something.

“You like Josh, right?” Eliza questions and you nod, feeling a little confused.

“Well, yeah. He’s my best friend.”

“No, you like like him.” She clarifies and your face turns red. Probably as red as Josh’s was earlier.

“I mean… I guess.”

You don’t have to guess, you know that you like him. Maybe even love him, although you’re not sure to what extent. You have definitely grown to have feelings for him after knowing each other for years.

You stand up, nearly knocking your chair over and ignore the grins your friends are giving you.

“I gotta go.”  

You don’t have to tell them where you’re going because they already know. The drive back to your apartment is a blur, your mind racing as you try to decide what exactly you’re going to say to Josh. You’re terrified that he’s not going to feel the same way and it will ruin your friendship but there’s no going back now, even if you wanted to.

The door to your apartment is unlocked which means Josh is still here so you’re not surprised when you open the door to see him sprawled out on the couch asleep. You take a minute to just watch him, worried that this might be the last time the two of you will be in the same room without awkwardness.

Walking over to him slowly, you poke his arm with your finger. “Hey, Josh.”

He doesn’t budge so you try shaking him and he just mumbles something under his breath.

“What?” You whisper, kneeling down so you’re at eye level with him.

He cracks one eye open and gives you a sleepy smile. “I said, maybe I’ll wake up if you kiss me again.”

“Josh.” You whine, standing up. “Not funny.”

His hand wraps around your wrist and he tugs on it until you give in and kneel back down.

“I’m joking.” He says, sitting up. “But seriously, we should talk about this morning.”

You nod, looking at the floor waiting for the rejection that’s about to hit you. You’re silent until you feel his finger lift your chin. His usually joking demeanor is gone and it’s replaced with something more serious that you’re used to seeing. You feel awkward kneeling in front of him so you stand up and take a few steps back, watching as he stands up too. He towers over you at 6’2 so you stare at his chest instead of looking up at him.

“Did you mean it?” He asks softly.

Playing dumb is the first thing that comes to your mind, you feel like saying mean what, but you know it’s not fair, to either of you. So you nod, still not looking him in the eyes.  

“Good.” Is all he says before pulling you in for a kiss that nearly knocks you off your feet. The swift kiss from earlier this morning is nothing compared to this. This is like all the years of tension built up between the two of you being released all at once.

You’re breathless when he pulls away and when you look at him, all you see is love in his eyes and any fear of rejection or broken friendships is gone with the wind.

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Alright, here it is! Chapter two. Thanks for the support on the first chapter! As always, you can add yourself to the tag list for this series or give constructive feedback here. This chapter is still in the past tense. This one is a longer chapter, sorry! Although I have a feeling most chapters will be this long. If you like this series and want to read more, give it a like or reblog or pop into my asks, it encourages me to continue. any feedback is appreciated :)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Summary: They say at fourteen you’re too young to know you’re in love. But what if you aren’t?

Navigation: chapter one

October

Grade: 9

Age: 14

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

Ever since that class, you and Joel became inseparable whenever you were within talking distance. You just seemed to gravitate towards him, and he seemed to do just the same. When you needed a pep-talk before a big test, he was there. Whenever you needed a laugh, he was there. He seemed to just always be there. He even noticed when your hands started to slightly shake before a quiz or test. How would he respond? He’d do what any nice, respectful, and caring teenage boy would do: goof off. The way he did so was completely up to how rambunctious he was feeling that day.

Would he throw crumpled up paper at his friends and just smile as the teacher yelled at him?

Or try and balance the close by meter-stick on his head (that was soon taken away after)?

Or would he possibly take a different turn and re-explain a topic you were still shaky on?

He was just unpredictable in that sense.

Now how were you feeling about this newly kind Joel?

“Your face is the reddest I think I’ve ever seen it,” Luna teased while you both walked out of the classroom after the bell rang, “and if I held up my bright red backpack to it, I don’t know which one would be redder.” She was on a roll that day.

You scratched your eyebrow in a lame attempt to hide your glowing cheeks. See, on that day, Joel decided to calm your nerves by drawing a star on your hand. Yes, your hand. It went sort of like this:

Your right hand was resting on the table so the back of your hand was facing Joel, who was also on your right. He was messing around with an orange marker, threatening to draw it on his friend just a table over.

“Draw one on y/n,” the friend slyly suggested with a devilish smirk. Joel’s eyes widened to the size of hockey pucks and he whipped his head around to look at you. He glanced down at the marker and then regained his cool facial expression.

Meanwhile your blood ran cold and your head started to pound uncontrollably. You glance at Luna and she nods vigorously. You ball your hand into a fist and shakily stick it out, the adrenaline causing your hearing to slightly go. He offers a light smile, and you swear you can see him slightly exhale from relief. He positions the marker in his hand to get a good grip on it, because if he was going to draw on your hand, it had to be perfect.

He rested his hand under yours to hold it steady. Yes, his hand. He cleanly knocked the breath out of your lungs. You could feel the warmth radiate from his hand. He carefully and neatly (well as neat as a fourteen year old boy can) draws an orange star on the center of your balled up fist.

When his hand finally let go of yours, the touch felt too brief but also like forever.

You literally wanted to jump out of your skin. A mix of different colors felt as though they were swirling around your head in an intense blur. You wanted to throw up color and those sickeningly sweet feelings.

At this point, unlike the first time you guys were civil to each other, you surpassed the point of being screwed.

No. As soon as he touched your hand, you knew one thing for certain: you were in love with Joel Farabee.

“Now that’s one perfect good luck charm,” he says with a smirk.

Man, you just wanted to kiss that stupid smirk. That stupid yet adorable smirk….

And that’s how you ended up almost falling over in the hallway with Luna. In the hallway, she takes your hand and looks at the perfectly messy star.

“You’ve got that boy head over heels for you,” she sassed and laughed.

You playfully shoved her, but your heart skipped a beat.

You couldn’t help but wonder, did you really?

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

“LOVE?” Luna practically yelled in your room. Your parents let you guys hang out after school that very same day because it was yet another Friday. Which is how you ended up with Luna screaming at you on your bedroom floor.

“SHHHHH,” you aggressively said as you tried to calm her down. You pointed downstairs to your parents. You had told them earlier that Luna drew the star on, not Joel. They didn’t even know Joel existed.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “but LOVE? You’re in love with him? Are you sure? Aren’t we too young for that? At least, that’s what my mom says.”

You sigh deeply. “Look, I know, Luna. But there’s just something so different about him. Something I can’t explain.”

“Okay, but you also haven’t liked more than two people,” Luna counters, “and we’re fourteen.”

“But have you looked into someone’s eyes before and felt safe? Have you wanted to cling onto them and never let go? You’ve got to listen to me, these feelings are so intense that I want to throw them up in a glittery mess. He runs in circles around my mind 24/7. I wonder how his hugs feel, I wonder how I would act if I met his parents.” You pause for a moment and stare her in the eyes.

“I barely understand how I feel, myself,” you whisper. “I am so screwed, Luna, but I don’t care.”

Her face relaxes and she slowly nods her head. She breaks out into a smile.

“I hear you,” she calmly states as she takes one of your hands. “I will be here with you while we figure this out, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod in a soft whisper tone.

Maybe it was the cumulation of him constantly caring for you in his own way. Maybe it was the way he never made dumb jokes at the expense of your feelings. Maybe it was the way talking to him came so easily and naturally to you, like you’ve known him for lifetimes. Or maybe it was just the fact that you were young, like Luna said.

But you knew deep down you couldn’t wholeheartedly buy into that logic.

Because in the end, you knew you were right.

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

You turned fifteen on November 25, so you’re always exactly three months older than Joel, which he definitely did not appreciate. He found out when the teacher wished you a premature Happy Birthday the day before Thanksgiving Break.

“I cannot believe you,” he said in a mockingly defensive manner.

“Joel, I can’t exactly control when I was born you know,” you jokingly shot back. The playful banter was your favorite part of the day. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to it now.

“Well, how am I supposed to wish you a happy birthday when we won’t be in class?” He dramatically pouted.

I could give you my number, you thought. You’d never actually say that, though.

Suddenly, he turned and snatched a random piece of paper from one of his friends, and judging by the sharp “Hey!” that came out of the friend’s mouth, it probably was of some sort of importance. He grabbed your pencil and borderline slammed them down in front of you.

“Here, write down your number and all of our problems will be solved.”

Did he just? Did what you think just...happen? Fourteen year old you was absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sure,” you said as nonchalantly as possible, when in reality you were about to black out.

You scribbled down your number and handed it to him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the bell rang, and you both scrambled for your things in the midst of chaos.

“I will be looking forward to that birthday wish,” you called out as he headed for the door. At first, you didn’t think he heard you, but at the last moment, he turned around and winked before stepping out the door.

You would have melted onto the floor if it wasn’t for Luna squealing in your ear like it was a holiday morning.

November 25 couldn’t come soon enough. Yes, you were excited to turn fifteen, but now you had another reason.

The question was, was that a good thing?

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

November 25

Age: 15

Grade: 9

You woke up on your birthday morning with adrenaline coursing through your veins. After a fun Thanksgiving with family the day before, you were excited to finally celebrate your birthday with just your mom and dad, like you always did.

You’d be lying if you said the first thing you checked was not your phone. But, It was the first thing you reached for on your nightstand. Not your glasses, like normal.

You quickly scrolled through your notifications looking for an unknown number. There’s a text from your aunt, uncle, grandma, grandpa, cousins. Your heart sank when you reached the end. Nothing from him.

You placed your phone down and shook your head to clear out the negative energy that engulfed your body.

It was your birthday, you weren’t going to let anyone ruin this day for you. Even him.

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

It was after dinner, which was your absolute favorite meal. You had gone to the mall with your mom and dad for some birthday shopping, a tradition you were very grateful for.

On the way home, you were happily thinking about the new outfits you were gifted, until your phone buzzed. Your heart quickened.

Luna!!: did he text you yet?

You exhaled sharply.

You: no, he hasnt :(

Thanks for the reminder, Luna.

Luna!!: bummer. i’m sure he will soon.

Luna!!: he’d be an idiot not to, don’t worry, love!

You mindlessly stared out the window of the back seat, hoping the blur of the trees would take your mind off of him.

You could sense your dad glancing at you using the rearview mirror.

You turned to look at him. “What?”

“Everything okay?” He asked.

You plaster a huge smile on your face and say yes, of course, because your parents have done so much for you that day that you should have been fluttering from happiness. You mean, you were happy. You couldn’t have been more thankful. Your heart just yearned for him to fulfill his promise.

Because you didn’t know what school was going to be like if he didn’t, and you weren’t ready to face that reality.

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

That night, you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. Your heart felt heavier each time you checked your phone and “No Older Notifications” was displayed instead of seeing the one you longed for. You glanced at your clock on your nightstand. The bright red numbers glared at you. It was close to 11:00.

You sighed and spun your phone around in your hands as you thought. Call it delusion, but you refused to put your phone down. You knew he was going to follow through.

Did you know why you knew? Not a clue.

Without warning, your phone vibrated in your hands. You couldn’t have flipped it upright faster if you tried.

Maybe: Joel

Maybe WHO?

Maybe: Joel: Happy birthday math partner 🥳

Maybe: Joel: This is Joel by the way, that’s probably important to add

Maybe: Joel: Although you do only have one amazing math partner

You really thought you died there for a second. They were, like, a handful of words (excluding the Joel part) but they were enough to make you hug your pillow from overload.

You spastically texted Luna.

You: JESFEUN You: HE IFHUHF You: HE TEXTED ME LUNA

She must have been waiting for this text all day, just like you. She responded right away.

Luna!!: YAYAYA WHAT DID HE SAY?

You: Happy birthday math partner with the 🥳 emoji and he forgot to say his name until the second text lmaooo

Luna!!: aww thats so cute! he sounds like he has an empty head but you go hon!!

Luna!!: now text him back idiot before you forget or he goes to bed

You: yep one sec

Your thumbs circled aimlessly around the keyboard. You wanted to say so many things. You settled on this:

You: thanks, math partner :)

You hit send on that, hesitated for a moment, then typed:

You: and yes you’re a pretty great one

You took a deep breath and pressed send. You changed his contact to “Math Partner”

You wanted to throw up, but in a good way? You sighed into your pillow. Almost as quick as you sent it, you felt another buzz.

Your hand shot out to grab your phone.

Math Partner: Hey, anytime you need a star, I’m here

You glanced down at your hand, where the orange star was just a few short days ago. It was gone. You wished it didn’t fade.

You: the orange one has already faded :(

Math Partner: Well, to make up for the late birthday wish, I can give you another one once we go back to school since we have another big test

You nodded vigorously, as if he could see that through the screen.

You: maybe in red this time? it’s my favorite color

Math Partner: Whatever you want, birthday girl

What a simp, you thought. Also, you were surprised you still had a pulse at that point. Birthday girl?

Math Partner: I have to go now, I have hockey super early tomorrow. Goodnight 😁

“Hockey?” you whispered to yourself.

You: yay, thanks :) and goodnight!!

He plays hockey? you thought. Shouldn’t you have known that?

You frantically Facetimed Luna and whisper-yelled every word you two exchanged. Luna beamed with so much happiness that you could have sworn she was getting the guy.

“This is literally the best thing EVER,” she quietly exclaimed.

You just laughed a giddy yet nervous laugh. You still had no clue what was happening, but you were ready to embrace it.

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

January 25

Age: 15

Grade: 9

When the teacher switched around the seating charts during the year, she mostly kept you and Joel within talking distance each time. If that thing about teachers sensing when kids like each other was thought to be true, she definitely proved it to be so.

Thankfully, she kept this trend going when she switched the seats around on Joel’s birthday. She moved you guys back next to each other for the next quarter. Before, she briefly separated you guys for about two weeks (when Joel wouldn’t stop yelling to his other friend who was near him). During that time apart, you both were noticeably droopier and mopier than normal. He still joked with his friends, but you only heard his loud laugh a handful of times instead of….too many.

As for you, some kid you’ve never even talked to asked you if you were okay. The answer was of course no, but you couldn’t say that.

So when the brown haired boy sat down next to you for the first time in two weeks, it felt like the day he drew the star on your hand all over again. You wanted to reach out and hug him so he’d never leave you, much less say something, anything, but you just couldn’t still. Thankfully, he did the talking for you.

“Miss me?” he joked with his trademark smile.

“Very much so,” you said with a balance of sarcasm and lightheartedness. “Happy birthday, by the way.” You lightly shoved him, not entirely knowing where the guts to do that came from.

“Thank you, thank you. Did you get me anything?” he teased. He lightly shoved you back.

Your heart beated frantically. Your impulsivity urged you to do something you never would have a few months ago.

“Actually…” you paused for a moment. He raised his eyebrows. You reached for an orange marker and uncapped it with a pop.

“May I?”

He could hardly believe it.

“Do what?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Draw a star, dummy.”

“Ohhhhh,” he said as he connected the dots. He stuck out his clenched fist as he fought back a huge grin.

You couldn’t believe you were actually doing that.

You tucked your hand under his to keep it steady, just like he did with your hand a few months back. You took your time making sure each corner was connected precisely. You also didn’t want to let go of his hand, like, ever.

You finished way too soon for both your likings. You pulled away and closed the cap.

“Happy birthday, Math Partner.”

“Thanks,” he said. He had his eyes glued on the star you just drew. He didn’t even try to fight the grin that was creeping on his face.

Now you were the cause of his smile. Warmth flowed through your body. You just wanted to keep him that happy forever.

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

That night, Luna called you on Facetime because apparently talking about those events in the hallway afterschool wasn’t enough.

“What’s up?” you calmly asked, as if you didn’t know why she was calling.

“What’s up? What do you mean what’s up? I mean, first you lightly shoved him. Yes, I saw that. But then you draw a star on him? I don’t know where this confident you came from, but I am living for it. I am so proud of you,” she sincerely said through a smile.

“Aw thank you, I appreciate it. Yeah, I don’t know either, honestly. He just brings out this good side of me now.”

“I can see that, and I love it. So...” She dragged out the “so,” and that was never a good sign.

“So?” you asked.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” You played dumb as best you could.

She didn’t buy it. “Oh come on, y/n. You know you love him, why don’t you tell him?”

You shuttered at that idea. By doing that, you risked losing what you’ve created so far. You were texting him roughly once or twice a week at that point about random stuff and talking to him in class every chance you got. Losing that was just something you were not prepared to face. And you told Luna that.

She (mostly) understood.

“I respect that,” she said. “But if you guys don’t hang out in the summer and keep this going, I will kill him.”

You snorted. “Me too, honestly.”

Could you guys keep this going for that long?

Only time would tell, you told yourself.

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

April

Grade: 9

Age: 15

Every time you saw Joel, you came home with a pep in your step. It was like clockwork. You would bounce into the house with a grandiose “Hello Mother” and hum a song stuck in your head. Today it was “Love Story” by Taylor Swift.

“How was your day?” your mom asked with a hint of suspicion. After months of letting your intriguing happiness spell go, it was too obvious for her to ignore.

“Good,” you said. You didn’t really want to tell her much about Joel because you knew she wouldn’t believe you if you told her how you really felt about him. Those strong feelings didn’t waiver once over the last few months. Okay, maybe once on the day that he accidentally spilled water on your homework. But you couldn’t stay mad at him after he willingly placed his own homework in the same water.

“You’re very happy today. Anything happen in particular?” She prodded.

“Nope,” you pop the letter “p”.

“Who’s the boy?”

You froze. “Boy?”

“There has to be, you haven’t been this happy to go to school pretty much ever.”

You sighed. It was your mom after all. Maybe she would believe you if you told her.

“His name’s Joel, he’s in my Algebra class,” you mumbled.

“Is he nice? Is he smart? Does he play hockey?” The questions flew from left and right.

“Yes, he’s nice. He’s really sweet to me. He is way better at math than me. Yes he does,” you rattled off the answers to her bombardment.

“Excellent,” she smiled. “You like this boy?”

“Yeah, I really do. A lot actually.”

She raised an eyebrow. “A lot?”

“Yeah, honestly, I might love him.”

That confession froze the kitchen over. She paused.

“Honey, you’re too young to know that,” she tried to reason.

Your chest stung. “What if I’m not?” You questioned.

“You’re fifteen.”

“I know Mom, I know.” She opened her mouth to talk, but you said, “I have to go start homework.” You charged up the stairs and crashed on your bed.

So what if you were fifteen? You didn’t care how old you were. Call it being naive, but you were sure you knew everything when you were young.

You just had to wait for timing to fall into place to prove everyone wrong.

tagging: @teamcanadasimp :)

[hockey-fics]

Two Too Many ~ Jamie Oleksiak 

Summary: Secrets come to the surface after Jamie gets home from two months in the bubble. 

Word Count: ~2,000

Warnings: None

A/N: Unedited and written while I was tipsy so read with caution.

You didn’t expect it. You didn’t expect the way it would feel to be away from Jamie for so long. The dull ache lodged in your chest every time you thought about how he wasn’t there. You couldn’t call him and ask him to come over and watch a movie, couldn’t ask if he wanted to go on an impromptu road trip, you couldn’t invite him to go for brunch with you, hungover after a girl’s night watching reality tv and drinking wine. 

And it wasn’t like you weren’t used to not having your best friend around 24/7. You had gotten used to the fact that travelling was part of his job. That some nights, even when you wanted to be with him, you simply could’t. But it had been two months this time and everyday seemed harder than the last. 

You called, you texted, you FaceTimed. But nothing replaced the way it felt to be wrapped in Jamie’s arms after a hard day at work. To hear him chuckle at a dumb joke in the movie you were watching on the couch in your living room. To see his smile as you climbed into his car late at night after you texted him telling him that you couldn’t sleep so instead you would go for ice cream and sit in his car listening to music and talking about anything and everything instead of trying to sleep. 

You had watched every single game of his. Plus many of the other games during the playoffs as well. Because you had loved hockey even before you met Jamie. But of course with one of your best friends playing in the NHL your love of the sport had only grown. 

You were devastated after game five. You didn’t even want to watch the last few minutes. But you forced yourself to do it, because you knew you had to. You had to support Jamie even when things weren’t going well. You knew how badly Jamie wanted this, how hard the whole team was working, how close they were to the one thing they were fighting for. Once the television switched from Stanley Cup coverage to the late night news you turned the TV off, sitting in your living room waiting for a text from Jamie. Normally it would have been you to send the first text, win or lose. Because you knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to right away and you wanted there to be something on his phone when he finally got to it after a game. But that night, you couldn’t. Because you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Nothing felt right. So you waited and you waited and you waited. And you didn’t get a text. Instead the first thing you received from him was a FaceTime call, late that night when he was back in his hotel room, showered and tired and tucked into his bed. And you talked for hours in soft and hushed voices till you both drifted to sleep. You awoke the next morning to your phone completely dead and laying beside your pillow, leaving you late for work that day. But you didn’t mind, because truthfully, you would do anything for Jamie. 

The next night you awaken to a racing heart, your eyes open but receiving nothing except the streetlights shining through the edge of your closed curtains. Laying in silence you try to piece together what had happened. You hadn’t had a nightmare, not that you could remember. But just as you roll over, your eyes closing again to try and fall back asleep you receive your answer. A knock at your door. 

Pushing your blankets back you grasp your phone, unlocking it and ready to call for help as you slowly and quietly creep through your apartment. But when you peer through the peephole on your front door every ounce of panic you had vanished. Your fingers are shaking slightly as you fumble with your deadbolt and then the chain, a whole array of emotions and feelings swirling inside of you. It had been a couple days since the Stanley Cup final. With the circumstance you weren’t sure when you would see him, when he would get back.

“Jamie,” you whisper, staring up at him, your hand on the edge of the door as you stare up at him, like you weren’t sure he was really there. It had been two months and it was the same Jamie but he looked tired, looked deflated. And your heart had broken watching Dallas lose game five but this was a whole different type of pain. Seeing him like this and knowing there was nothing you could do. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late. I should have just gone home but-.”

“Jamie,” you say again, this time with intention. “Don’t apologize, you can come here anytime you want.” Stepping forward you lean up, wrapping your arms around his large body, warm and comfortable. 

“I love you,” Jamie whispers into your neck, leaning down to wrap you in a tight hug. 

“I love you too,” you whisper back. It was the truth, in every sense of the words. But you could only assume he was saying it in the way you had said the words to plenty of your other friends before. That he loved you like a family member, like a friend he had grown up with, like a person who you would do anything for, who you trusted with your life. 

Jamie straightens his back, lifting you off the ground as he steps into your apartment, the weighted door falling shut behind you two. “Can you stay here tonight?” you whisper, feeling your eyes fill with tears. And you feel a wave of guilt. Because you shouldn’t be crying, you shouldn’t be upset. You needed to be the rock for Jamie, to be there for him through whatever he was feeling. 

“Of course,” Jamie tells you, gently placing you back onto the ground. “Of course I’ll stay if you want me to,” he adds, looking down at you. “Are you…?”

Giggling you shake your head, quickly reaching up and wiping your eyes. “No,” you lie, sniffling quietly. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asks, his arms around you again, his chin on top of your head as he holds you tight against his chest. 

“Nothing is wrong,” you tell him honestly. “I just don’t ever want to be away from you for that long again.”

Jamie pulls back a little, looking down at you with a soft gaze. “Never,” he says quietly. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

Your eyes narrow slightly as you stare up at him, hands still clamped on his arms. “The...cup,” you mumble hesitantly, wondering if perhaps you shouldn’t have brought it back up. But what you hadn’t realized was that Jamie wasn’t burying the loss deep inside, to never have to process it. He was simply so caught up in you that every single other thing and person in his life had faded away for the time being.. That he was so focused on you, on how much he missed you over the last two months, on how much he loved you, that nothing else seemed to matter. 

“Oh,” Jamie whispers, nodding slowly as it all hits him again. How much he wanted it, like nothing he had ever wanted before. To be able to come home as a winner, to be a cup winner. To have something to show after nine weeks away. “Yeah, I…” Jamie trails off and you know it’s because he doesn’t know what to say, how to express how he’s feeling. 

“Are you tired?” you ask even though you know the answer. You know from more than the time of day. You know based on the bags under his eyes, the way his voice doesn’t carry any inflection, how his shoulders are slumped just slightly. 

“Yes,” Jamie tells you without a moment of hesitation. 

Reaching over you turn the deadbolt on the door, reaching over and grabbing his hand as you gently tug him towards your bedroom. “I...the couch,” Jamie mutters. 

Jamie had spent many nights in your apartment and you had spent many nights in his. But one of you was always on the couch. Because you were just friends, and that’s what friends did. “Jamie,” you say quietly, turning around in your dim bedroom, looking up at him. “You’re not going to sleep on the couch, I’m not letting you. You deserve a good night’s sleep...at the very least. We’re both adults, you don’t think we can share a bed?”

Jamie inhales sharply and even though you can barely see him in the dark room you do notice the way every muscle in his body seems to stiffen. “Yeah...yeah,” he finally mutters after a couple seconds of silence. Hesitating you nod, stepping away from him to walk to the other side of your bed. “No,” Jamie suddenly exclaims the second you rest one knee on the edge of your bed. 

Pausing you straighten up, leaving your one leg on the bed as you stare at his silhouette standing five feet away from you. “No...what?”

“No, I can’t share a bed with you,” Jamie explains and you watch him run a hand through his hair. “It’s not okay...not when I love you like this. You think I just see you as a friend and I can’t share a bed with you pretending that’s the truth.”

You slowly pull your other leg onto the bed, crawling across it. 

“Y/N,” Jamie whispers as you stop in front of him, still on your knees on his side of the bed now. 

Reaching up you bring one hand to the back of his neck, pulling him down to your level as you press your lips to his. And he doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second, before he’s kissing you back. It’s gentle and soft as he pushes himself forwards, your own body falling back with his. Slipping an arm around your back Jamie holds you up as you slide your legs from underneath you, lowering you down till your back hits the mattress and he’s hovering over you. “Jamie...Jamie,” you mutter against his lips. 

“Yes?” Jamie asks, pulling back immediately. “Are you okay? Is this...okay?”

Nodding you keep one hand on the back of his neck, the other propped beneath you to support yourself. “Yes, I just...earlier, when you said you loved me…?”

“I love you,” Jamie repeats. “As more than just your friend.”

Pushing your hand harder into the bed you lean up to bring your lips back closer to his. “I love you too, Jamie,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his again. 

And you felt like a teenager again, your stomach alive with butterflies as you let Jamie lay you back onto your bed, kissing you slowly and passionately. His hands remained above your waist the entire time you were making out, till you finally pulled away, your breath heavy as you looked up at him. “You said you were tired.”

“Not for you,” Jamie mutters and you can’t help but giggle. At how cheesy it was. But you couldn’t deny how much you loved it. “What’s so funny?” Jamie inquires and through the soft light streaming in through the window you can see the smirk on his lips. 

“You,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “So, are you going to sleep on the couch...or?” you joke. 

Jamie chuckles and slides one arm underneath your body, easily moving you over to make room for himself. Laughing you scoot to the other side, slipping back under the blankets as you roll onto your side, your eyes suddenly heavy with sleep as you watch him peeling off his shirt and jeans. When Jamie climbs into the bed you shuffle closer, feeling the warmth of his body radiating from him even before your skin touches his. 

“Thank you,” Jamie whispers after you settle against him, your chest on his shoulder. 

“For what?” you whisper, your fingers slowly running along his bare chest as you fight against the pull of sleep. For the first night in two months you felt completely content, happier than you had in a long time. With Jamie at your side. With the truth that you had been hiding for so long finally out in the open, to find those hidden feelings reciprocated. 

“Just...being you. Your texts and calls through this whole thing...it just made things so much easier. You...you just make things easier...and better,,.in every way,” Jamie tells you, stumbling slightly through the serious topic. 

Lifting your head slightly you place a gentle kiss against the front of his shoulder. “You make everything better for me too, Jamie. Two months without you was two too many,” you whisper, settling back into him as you quickly fall asleep beside Jamie, for the first time in a future filled with many nights just like this one.

[megahologram]

Creature of the Night | Steve Harrington

A/N: this one’s been on hold for a LONG time, I got writes block.

Warning(s): strong language, (that’s it I think)

°•○●○•°

y/n pressed the gas pedal harder with her foot, speeding her car out of Starcort. It had been a long tiring day at work and all she was looking forward to, was going home, sitting in front of the tv and stuffing her face in popcorn. She was driving through the empty roads, blasting her music loudly, when suddenly she heard a faint static sound from a distance. As if from an empty tv channel or radio or…Dustin’s, “code red, I repeat, this is a code red.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, she pulled her car over to the side of the road, pressing on the brakes and pulling her car to park. She was looking around, staring in the front seats of the car to find where the noise was coming from. Ripping her car apart, her eyes finally landed on the big walkie talkie thing her brother’s nerd friend would use to communicate. Remembering Dustin’s specific words, “they aren’t walkie talkies okay, they are one of a kind, Realistic TRC 219 radio” to which she’d always continue to mock her brother of how nerdy he was. Picking up the item from the back corner of her car, ‘probably Dustin’s’ she thought to herself, placing it on the passenger’s seat and continuing to make her way home.

After a few seconds of driving once again, the radio went off, “I repeat, this is a god damn code red, will someone answer the freaking call.” And with that last message, y/n could recognize the voice too well, once again pulling her car to park, she picked up the radio, “Dustin…is that you?” she asked as soon as she pressed the black button on the side of the radio.

“yes it’s me, how are you talking to me?” he replied with confusion.

“I think one of your nerd friends left their walkie talkies in my car”

“how many times do I have to tell you, it’s not a walkie talkie, it’s a one of a kind Realistic T-you know what, it doesn’t even matter, can you just get Lucas, Mike or Will on the line.”

“why the hell would you think I’m with them. I just got off work and I’m on my way home”

“NO DON’T COME HOME” Dustin practically screams through the radio,

“Dustin, what did you do?”

y/n pulled her car through her driveway, running to the back shed where Dustin was standing and waiting for her. Looking at her brother up and down, “you look ridiculous” she says, chuckling.

“yeah well so do you. Can we do some work now” he says, grabbing the bat in this hands before making his way to the root cellar

Walking behind him, she grabbed the bat from his hands, “I swear to god Dustin, if this is a joke, your riding you bike to school for a month”

“it ate our mom’s cat, I am not joking y/n.”

Signing loudly, walking slowly to the closed-door Dustin locked. “keys?” asking the boy, holding out her hands to which Dustin places them. Opening the lock, she slowly and quietly took it out, letting out a deep breath before holding onto the bat tightly, opening the door quickly. Placing the bat in front of her to see nothing. Walking down the dark steps, opening the light of the cellar, looking around to see it was empty. Shaking her head, annoyed and ready to shout at her brother, she started to walk upstairs when her eyes fell on something. “um Dustin” screaming loudly, calling for him.

“what” hearing him screaming from outside.

“get your ass down here right now” she screams, this caused the boy to quickly make his way down. Looking around and seeing no sign of Dart, he huffs in annoyance.

“is this your pet” y/n asked, holding up the shredded piece of skin with the bat, the hole in the wall visible to both of them now. “shit” Dustin whispers looking at the hole.

--

“okay so what the hell is a Demogorgon?”

“were you not listening at all, I just told you. God I don’t have time for this, can you please just drive faster.” Dustin screams, annoyed at her for asking too many questions.

“okay so what do we tell mom about Mews?” she asked her brother, unable to process the fact that their beloved cat was gone.

“uh we don’t tell her anything. Just say she ran away and never came back”

“okay first of all, that’s horrible. Second of all, don’t roll your eyes at me. I literally just get off work, starving and tired and now I’m here driving you to your dumb nerd friends house cause apparently, you fought a giant creature last year called the Demogorgon and never told me”

Dustin rolls his eyes once again, “your starvation is the least of our problems right now and stop acting like you care about me”

Shocked at his words, she turns her head to face the boy. He sat on the passenger’s side looking out the window. Signing loudly, thinking back to when she moved to her father’s house. She had a huge fight with her mom that evening and the next thing she knew, she was on the bus, on her way to her fathers. y/n were there for nearly a year until her father kicked her out, forcing her to move back to her moms. Though her relationship with her mom improved and they both forgave each other for everything that happened that day, Dustin still didn’t forgive her. She knew how much he had the fear of someone he loves leaving him, he was the one who told her. After their dad left, he made her promise that she’d would never leave like their father did but then she disappeared for a year, coming back with a simple sorry. Dustin never forgave her, and she didn’t expect him to either. Just wished her relationship with her brother could go back like it used to.

“of course, I care about you Dusty” you said sadly.

“if you cared, you wouldn’t have left” he replies harshly as she pulled up at Mike’s house. He got out the car, slamming the door behind him as y/n watch the boy make his way to the front door talking to Mr. Wheeler. After a few minutes, she watched him walk back, only to stop once he started talking to Steve. They exchange a few words when Steve replies with a nod and goes back to his car. Dustin quickly makes his way in the car, closing the door beside him as he say “let’s go”

“where?”

“home”

“why hom-”

“y/n just drive the freaking car, will you?”

“alright alright” y/n says, holding up her hands in defense. Driving the car back their home, y/n noticed Steve’s car following them. “why’s Harrington following us?”

“he’s gonna help” Dustin says shortly, continuing to call his other friends with his radio.

--

“Lucas is coming, still don’t know where Mike and Will are” Dustin tells the two, who were collecting pieces of meat in a bucket.

“great” y/n and Steve both say sarcastically.

Steve and Dustin were walking together, while y/n was behind them. Walking on the train track, placing the pieces of meat on the tracks.

“whose Max?” y/n says, overhearing Steve and Dustin’s conversation.

“none of your business” Dustin says aggressively, walking quick on his feet.

y/n signs loudly, couldn’t deny begin hurt by her brother’s words.

“he’s still mad” Steve says, throwing a few pieces of meat on the ground.

y/n, Nancy and Barb were best friends, after Steve’s king phase was gone, they got along better. Before, when Steve was a dick, both y/n and Barb didn’t like him at all. Then y/n disappeared, when she got back, she came to a complete different Steve. They got along better after that, he knew everything about y/n, why she disappeared for a year and how Dustin was still angry at her.

“yeah, he never talks to me about anything anymore. I wish he’d knew how sorry I was”

“you should tell him that. Just try talking to him when the times right”

“I know. Why were you at Nancy’s today?” y/n asked curiously.

“went to say sorry, she wasn’t home I guess”

“um I think she’s with Jonathan” y/n says sadly, as Steve just nods his head in response.

--

“you guys really think this is gonna work” y/n says as everyone just looks at each other in response.

“it has to” Lucas says, looking at everyone else who nods their head.

“okay then, let’s do this” Dustin says, his grip on his hockey stick tightening.

And this was how y/n and Steve were stuck in this school bus with a bunch of kids, fighting a monster neither of them believed in…entirely.

y/n flinched as she heard something slam against side of the bus. Turning her head, she tried to peak outside the window, only to be interrupted by Steve, “it’s just wind, don’t worry…I won’t let anything happen to you” he winked.

“my hero” y/n replied, rolling her eyes.

y/n was sitting on the steps of the bus, by the front door, trying to be as cautious as she could. Though it was hard when her mind was all over the place. All she could think about was ways to get her brother to forgive her or at least talk to her again.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Max speaking, “okay seesh, someone’s cranky, past your bedtime” Watching the girl walk up to the roof of the bus, her eyes landed at her brother’s annoyed expression. Dustin walked back and forth as Steve spoke, “that’s great…just show her you don’t care”

y/n furrowed her eyebrows, unsure what Steve was talking about and why he was smiling like that. Again, her thoughts were interrupted by Dustin’s voice, “I don’t”

y/n noticed Steve wink at her brother at instantly understood. “Steve” she said rather loudly, causing the boy to flinch slightly, “you better not be giving my brother girl advice”

“well, where else is he gonna get it from, you?”

“obviously, you wouldn’t understand a thing about girls, or else Nancy would’ve been here right now with you. But she isn’t, huh!”

Before anyone got a chance to say anything else, everyone heard a loud roar, frightening everyone on that bus.

Lucas and Max were on the roof of the bus, Steve and Dustin shared a window while y/n used the front door of the bus. Everyone stared out in the dark, trying to find the source of the sound. It was difficult because there was smoke everywhere, making it next to impossible to see anything.

“alright, I’m going out” Steve says, picking up his bat that he had punched with nails.

“are you insane?” y/n implies, placing her hand on Steve’s chest, stopping him from moving any further. “you’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you go out there.”

y/n catches the three kids smirks, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she questions what was so funny.

Somehow, y/n will never understand how, but the three kids convinced her to let Steve go. “alright kid, just lure him towards the food and we’ll take it from there, alright?”

Steve chuckles sarcastically, “never call me kid again” making his way outside.

“I may be younger than you but I’m a thousand times smarter” Dustin screams as y/n finally closed the door to the bus.

Admittedly, y/n’s heart was racing, and she never understood why. Maybe it was because she was scared if anything happened to Steve. He is her friend after all.

A few minutes had passed as everyone watched Steve trying his best to lure the creature towards the meat. It was difficult to see it through the fog, but y/n still noticed the change in Steve’s body language, he was nervous. She may not be able to see his face but she knew he was nervous, maybe even scared.

Suddenly, everyone heard Lucas shout, “Steve, 3 o’clock”

As if everyone’s head turned on cue, y/n’s eyes widened as she finally caught a glimpse of the creature for the first time. Not one, in fact, Two? Three?

Both y/n and Dustin screamed on cue, “Steve”

y/n pulled the leaver to let the door open, as Dustin screamed “mission abort.”

y/n watched in horror as a creature launched itself on Steve, him knocking it in the process, quickly turned his direction, running for the bus. “guys move out of the way.” y/n exclaims as she pushed the kids out of the way, making space for Steve to run in.

Instantly closing the door behind him, Steve quickly grabs a metal board for the side, covering it over the door, pushing it closed with his legs, trying his best to stop the creature for getting in.

“They can’t get in, they can’t” Lucas shouts, everyone’s screaming getting louder every time they heard it slam against the door.

As if something clicked, y/n’s eyes widened in horror, “guys the roof” she screams, running towards the ladder.

Everyone’s breathing got louder as they heard the creature launch itself on the roof. The footsteps could be heard as it got closer to the emergency exit at the top. y/n didn’t know what she was doing, she grabbed the metal rod she found beside her, holding it up in the air, ready for it to be used.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she came face to face with the creature. It screamed on her face, some of the slime falling on her face. Her hands were trembling, and her thoughts were racing. ‘what the fuck was she thinking?’

The next few seconds were a blur at the most. One moment, she was ready to be attacked and she was but not by what or who she was expecting. Steve tackled her to the ground, causing her back to slam hard on the cold, hard floor of the bus. A few seconds into realization, they both look over to the emergency exit, seeing as it was gone.

“they’re gone” Max whispers, confusion laced in her voice.

Completely ignoring the kids conversation, y/n realized the events that had unfolded. “what the fuck is wrong you?” she screams at Steve, slapping his chest in an attempt to get his body off hers. Failing miserably at that.

“What the heck were you thinking? What did you think you were going to do, just kick that thing in the balls and think it’s going to get away from you.”

Steve’s words brought rage in her, “no but I’m going to kick you in the balls if you don’t get off me in the next 5 seconds” to which she finally pushed him off her.

“That was so irresponsible, y/n” Steve says, finally lowering his voice as he gets on his feet.

y/n scoffs, shocked at his words, “and what you did there. Just going out there with your nail bat. That wasn’t irresponsible to you.”

“that’s different” Steve replies, walking closer to the girl.

“how’s it different? Cause I’m a girl, you think I can’t-“

“I never said that” Steve cuts you off. Both adults now dangerously close to one another.

“that’s what you meant”

“Guys knock it off okay.” Dustin screams, “goddamn, sometimes I feel like I’m the only mature one around here.”

y/n laughs bitterly at his words, “you wish” she mutters, not intending for him to hear, but he did.

“at least I don’t run away from my problems. I face them” and with that, Dustin walks out of the bus. Leaving y/n to let out a breath she never knew she was holding. Her head fell in her hands as a few tears dropped from her eyes at her brother’s cold choice of words.

“hey…hey” Steve whispers, holding onto her hands, causing the girl unable to hide her state.

“he hates me. He’s never going to forgive me.” y/n stifles out, tears threatening to fall down.

Steve places both his hands on the girls cheek, wiping her tears away. “I promise, he’s angry but he does not hate you. Look at me.”

y/n eyes fall on the man standing in front of her. Maybe she didn’t realize herself but his expression instantly calmed her down. “I don’t know how, but I promise I’ll help you get your brother back okay”

y/n nods her head, pulling Steve in for a hug.

The moment was interrupted by Max fake coughing. Both adults pulled away, facing the two kids that were still awkwardly standing there.

“you need an invitation to leave” Steve says sarcastically, causing y/n to laugh quietly.

“we should leave”

“so what now” Max asks, as everyone stood outside, unable to process what the hell was going on.

“I guess we should head back” y/n says, causing Dustin to turn at her words.

“no, we can’t. Those things are still out there, we gotta do something.”

“Dustin, who knows how many more are out there. And even if we try, do you really think we can just beat those things.”

“Eleven could” Lucas whispers.

Dustin finally hit an idea, “okay, maybe we can’t beat them. What if we find professionals”

“like the law enforcement?” Max questions.

Dustin scoffs, “if I knew they were even one percent helpful, wouldn’t I have called them in the first place.”

Max rolls her eyes at his words. “okay guys calm down. Dustin’s right. We need professionals. Or at least more people than three kids and two lame adults.” Steve exclaims, this time causing y/n to roll her eyes.

“one lame adult” y/n corrects, smiling wickedly at Steve as he just sticks his tongue out.

“real mature”

“guys” Dustin screamed, “y’all can flirt later, we gotta save the world right now”

[chal-lelerc]

ok so like. here’s my harry potter house thing. i’m ngl i tried to do this but then i deleted it bc it was getting too long and i didn’t have the attention span but. it kept sticking in my brain so i decided to pick it back up and as such, i’ve lost the original post but it was a quarantine activity (sort drivers into houses, assign quidditch positions, explain) posted by @verstappened​. houses done first, then positions, then explanations for both. i tried to make feasible teams, i.e making sure there arent too many of a single position per house, so this really screwed some of the sorting but oh well.

i did the houses first, then positions, then explanations in that order for the most part.

5/13/20: the sorting was mostly done before i heard all the differing opinions (of which there were many!)

5/19/20: alright so this is literally like 2 months old but i’ve just finished it lolol

Lewis Hamilton:

Slytherin: THE GLORY MAN. the aloof kind of superiority, confidence, is top dog, he’s simply the pinnacle of it all. kind of lethal and doesn’t do the whole ‘looking up to others’ things (outwardly, but he seems very soft on the inside tbh). very majestic and is almost a gryffindor, the kind of slytherin that Merlin is. hard-working, got here from incredibly humble beginnings, which kind of stands out from the rest, but he’s clearly now at the top level of society. still very protective of Others. scarily ambitious. Was originally a gryffindor but I wanted the brits to be in different houses for their quidditch positions to work. Could honestly go either way though.

Seeker: more glory. periodt. he stays winning and scoring the most points. clutch-man. Speedy boy, kind of in a different world than everyone else when competing (he’s always at the front lifetimes away from everyone else lmao. playing a diff game.)

Valtteri Bottas:

Hufflepuff: HE SEEMS. LIKE. A. BIG. CHILD. always relegated and brushed off but is literally God-Tier and no one can convince me otherwise. i consider him to be rather reliable (reflecting only the 2019 season at least lmao). a bit of a vindictive streak bc he knows what he’s Capable Of even when others underestimate him. has a very bright smile.

Beater: have u seen him. he’s a big boy even though he’s 5′8 and only an inch taller than lando norris he seems bigger than he is ok

Charles Leclerc:

Slytherin: this bitch. what a snake. hiss hiss.

Chaser: he wants what lewis hamilton has but chose the wrong position. still a star in his own right. pride and joy of his house, will be at the lead of every formation play unless told otherwise by his head of house, to which he will brood and complain ab but comply in the end bc he wants Team Success and loyalty to his Family. scores the most points on the team and people act like he carries even though he literally has a partner(s).

ok but fr my gut said charles is a slytherin (do i really need to explain why? very critical, doesn’t accept inferiority, somehow succeeds. just a feeling his brain seems to fit motorsport politics well), but i was seriously contemplating whether he’d be a gryffindor to max’s slytherin instead. but then i saw someone mention the whole lion schtick and i was like for all of max’s brattiness he is Gryffindor so sharl is snake. sorry don’t make the rules just follow them.

further edit: this was written before he started streaming (this is how old this draft is) and can u believe him he’s the epitome of the “not all slytherins r evil wenches” idea

Sebastian Vettel:

Ravenclaw: idk for all of Seb’s goofiness he just seems cerebral to me. Seems to know mildly irrelevant facts and is really quite smart however is hopeless in the modern age. Kind of that wise old(er he’s not that old) man knowledge. I’d trust him to give me all the life advice I need but also to write a 10 page essay on the nuances of the effect of emotion on verbal language (which we all know he is very experienced with).

Keeper: it’s the protective Dad Power.

Max Verstappen:

Gryffindor: WAS REALLY GONNA PUT HIM IN SLYTHERIN BC HE’S A NASTY LIL SHIT. TOTAL BRAT. GIVES FUCK ALL WHAT OTHERS SAY. BUT HE IS LION AND LION IS HE SO GRYFFINDOR IT IS. also just bc he needs to oppose sharl in every way possible it’s called Poetic Cinema. also his driving style is clearly the bravery and confidence to the point of recklessness that is prevalent among gryffindors.

Chaser: again, he must oppose Charles. so, not a seeker although he’s clearly singularly the most prized competitor. just like Charles, pride and joy of house, their star chaser. the comparisons never end. the competition never ends. the fighting never ends. one of the most interesting and dynamic performers to watch, is predictable in that he’s not predictable except that he will always be aggro to the max. will always be in trouble for getting rough bc that’s Not His Job but that’s just the gryffindor disregard for rules. master point scorer.

Alex Albon:

Gryffindor: was really a toss up btwn this and Hufflepuff but the ultimate deciding factor was the fact that I wanted all the British Boys to be seekers. he really just sticks it out as max’s teammate like a real one (nothing against max, everything against Helmet Merco) for the good of the team, still is sweet with max anyway. fitting that they’re in the same house too.

Seeker: he’s not the small boy that lando and lewis are but he is (thai/)British. very special boy (big ups on the promotion even tho it was Sad Times for Pear) deserves very special job. also he has a hot girlfriend (alex albon who i only know lily he’s boy toy) idk how that’s relevant but it seems fitting.

Carlos Sainz:

Ravenclaw: bc he’s a spaniard but is still better at english than Lando (i think everyone is tbh). Seems to be a quiet type of smart, sensible, but perhaps this is just the consequence of being compared to Lanno at all times LMAO (no hate all love bby Lannd). would be the type of ravenclaw to follow his friends on absolutely idiotic ventures but would step in to prevent near death or likely-legal-problem causing actions (and only then; otherwise it’s every man for themselves and everyone is free to make a fool of themselves and break some laws. carlos may dabble in such practices.)

Chaser: seems to be a go-getter, not going for points doesn’t even cross his mind. will always be the one driving up the pitch, the strategist of sorts bc he seems big(ger) brain (than lando lololol).

Edit: I wrote this part ab him long ago but this entire section of this post is now irrelevant and canceled.

Lando Norris:

Hufflepuff: you all know why. zero explanation needed. like, none.

also has a bit of an aggressive streak which tends to catch ppl off guard. is not afraid to confront u (hello pageNO) and at times defies the hufflepuff stereotype of being perpetually happy go-lucky (he has his bad days!). but when with His True Crew he is absolutely a hufflepuff ball of energy.

Seeker: small and speedy. energetic to the max. small. quirky and different from the rest, so he gets the special job. small. everyone would kill to protect him. small.

Daniel Ricciardo:

Gryffindor: AW I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE THAT I PUT HIM AND MAX TOGETHER. LOOK I EVEN MADE THEM BOTH CHASERS. AH HOW BIGBRAIN MY MIND IS. everything ab dan is gold. golden skin, the colors in redbull and renault, his smile, just the vibes. he’s just got the enthusiasm and charisma and this intensity of a gryffindor. super aggressive, his late breaking (from his rbr at least) is legendary and maddening with how he pulls it off. is almost a hufflepuff but the gut said no.

Chaser: is Max’s teammate. so yeah. was obviously the star until younger max came to the show. a bit lost in limbo bc of it but they still work well together.

literally want to make him a hufflepuff so. bad. but i couldn’t split up maxiel. also his vibe is just different from other ‘puffs like stroll so.

Esteban Ocon:

Slytherin: ask max.

Chaser: being characterized off of their relationship with max seems to be a theme here. will go head to head with max w/ absolutely zero shits given. talented, but the rivalry with max is entirely secondary to charles imho. still yet to show his full potential but is still quietly a thorn in max’s side. many are interested to see what he is able to do in the immediate future.

Pierre Gasly:

Hufflepuff: GUYS HE WANTS TO OWN A PANDA

Chaser: constantly trying to prove himself and score big boy points. had a stint as seeker until lando came along. did not do as well as ppl had hoped, returned to chaser and proceeded to crush it from there. praticed a lot with charles as children (the friendship dynamic w/ their houses was definitely unforseen but is amazing).

Daniil Kvyat:

Hufflepuff: really wanted to make him a slytherin but the quidditch positions didn’t work out. firmly believe this works though. more of the rough and tumble type, definitely the kind that will sock u in the nose if u write off hufflepuffs as a joke. could honestly probably be a gryffindor too with how unapologetically aggressive he can be in the name of His Beliefs. gives me big dumb himbo vibes now that i think ab it tbh which is mostly the justification here. also he has a child omg.

Chaser: but the one that’s always headbutting bludgers out of the air (torpedo bitches). also had a stint as seeker before but it Was Not His Thing. he’d much rather be chasing and throwing things than seeking things. also he’s pierre’s mate :,) would’ve been a beater but romain and valtteri will not be anything else so daniil took the boot whoops.

Sergio Perez:

Slytherin: it’s just the vibe. knows his weaknesses and is able to make up for it with his confidence and talent in his strengths. very ambitious, plays the right cards at the right times to get the right results. something ab him puts me on edge, but like in a good way; i feel like there’s always a trump card up his sleeve, like when he gets to q3 out of fucking nowhere in a racing point.

Keeper: he gives me the same vibes as seb idk what it is. very dependable, backbone of his team.

Lance Stroll:

Hufflepuff: guys have u seen the guy. he’s just here to have a good time. may seem a bit airheaded at times but he means well 99% of the time. untapped potential. seems like a no thoughts head empty canadian hockey boy (and every one of these types is a hufflepuff don’t fight it); may or may not be the only accurate description of him.

Chaser: he’s just trying his best out here. i

KEEPER?: SO I DID A QUICK GOOGLE AND HE USED TO BE A HOCKEY

GOALIE?????

so scratch my initial thoughts (tbh i didn’t really know where to put him and i originally had romain as keeper but that’s an issue to fix later on now) BECAUSE LANCE STROLL IS A keeper GOALIE AND NO ONE CAN REFUTE THIS. ABSOLUTELY NO HUMAN OF THIS EARTH. WHAT GLORIOUS INFORMATION TO STUMBLE ACROSS.

Kimi Raikkonen:

Slytherin: guys i really don’t have an in depth analysis of this but i don’t think iceman needs one.

Beater: see above^. y’all must get the vibe.

tbh could also be a keeper tho similar energies to seb and checo, but honestly his no fucks given attitude is ultimately what swayed me

Antonio Giovinazzi:

Gryffindor: he just has that majestic quality (that could also fit a slytherin but i only see red when i see antonio). look at that lion’s mane. also he’s one of kimi’s to paddock friends? seems fitting that he’s a gryffindor to kimi’s slytherin.

Chaser: plays second fiddle to the duo that is max and daniel, often regulated to vibing on the side. but he’s there and he’s important and he has potential (i’ve been seeing ppl talking ab a ferrari move and i’m positively shaken). [edit: again, this post is old.]

im sorry its glaringly obvious idk much about him asdfjasldkd

Kevin Magnussen:

Slytherin: guys lots of these are just self explanatory sorry if i seem like im taking the cheap way out but it’s fact. brundle and crofty call him a great white shark for crying out loud.

Beater: unapologetically chaotic. lurking around the edges making people feel hunted. spends more time playing baseball in the middle of the matches than quidditch and sometimes it backfires but it’s good fun and it sometimes works.

Romain Grosjean:

Hufflepuff: y’all he’s such dad energy and he likes to cook. gets written off a lot but he actually cares (he’s a part of the grand prix drivers assoc.!). he seems so wholesome and he spends time with his kids and their school work when he can do u feel those water drops yeah those r my tears.

Beater: i really wanted to make him a slytherin beater to make him teammates with k-mag but he’s just. not a slytherin. but i kept the beater part. spends the majority of the hufflepuff v. slytherin matches sending bludgers kevin’s way even when he doesn’t mean to. it’s always reciprocated.

George Russell:

Ravenclaw: I’VE SAID IT BEFORE AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN THIS KID. is so marvelously well spoken and he just has such a simple yet effective way with words. he knows what’s reasonable to expect but never fails to expect the most that he can given his circumstances. again, mentioned this before but a lot of it is his accent. the glottal stop is a historically stereotypically rural (i.e. “uneducated”) thing but I’m American and I Don’t Listen to the Rules, so the accent just makes him seem so sophisticated to me especially when he’s saying things like “horriiiiiiiific” and presenting his hefty powerpoints.

Seeker: my British Boys Are Seekers headcanon continues. definitely a Golden Boy of the team kind of guy (hello tragic dumpsterfire that is williams :/ ).

Nicholas Latifi:

Hufflepuff: same boat as lance. his twitch streams are so wholesome he’s just chilling man. twitter made me write him off as daft and unnecessary at first but like fuck twitter i’m all here for ninky latvia now.

Chaser: lowkey gives me keeper vibes as well? the sensible, level-headedness. but obvs that’s lance so chaser it is. still the level-headedness that helps him hold down the fort btwn pierre and daniil who can tend to get a bit imaginative, and also the energies of them + lando.

5/19/20: so it’s quite clear to me that i grew tired of brain functions the more time i took on this and the later ones are a bit lacking and for that i’m very sorry. that being said i’m still happy to see this finished bc the idea was VERY exciting for me.

[puckmeupfam]

Locked Down | Tyson Jost

Word Count: 1969 Note: This is my first time writing non-headcanon-y fanfic, but Tyson is my... exactly my type so here goes nothing

It was probably a mistake to bring your boyfriend back to your hometown for the holidays. You knew this. It wasn’t that you were worried that your parents wouldn’t like him. No, Tyson puts his hand on the small of your back and leans in to check on you randomly throughout the day which makes your mom give you a knowing look. And his mom raised him to go in the kitchen, put on an apron, and ask to be put to work - even if he was hopeless. Tyson was any parent’s dream boyfriend. The problem was that your family, and specifically your female relatives, had the tendency to be a bit overbearing… especially when it came to your love life.

“(Y/N), can you come help me in the kitchen for a minute,” your mother called. Your hand was in Tyson’s and your legs were intertwined so he also rose to follow you. “Not you Tyson, dear, you just relax,” she said. You looked back at Tyson to see him shrug and go back to watching the cheesy Netflix movie. Your fuzzy sock covered feet shuffled to the kitchen where your mom was waiting. “What do you need,” you asked as you entered to which your mom replied with a belabored sigh. “I don’t actually need anything,” she gave you a duh look which made you feel more like you were back in middle school than a grown adult talking with your mother. “I just wanted to talk to you about that boyfriend of yours,” your mom said with a smirk. Now you were the one sighing. You move to slouch against the counter as your mom keeps talking.

“I think we were all just wondering when you were going to lock that down.”

“Mother,” you gasped. This made that damn smirk on her face grow. You and Tyson had been dating for less than a year, you had met his family during the playoffs and then again when you visited him in the off-season and the holidays had been his turn. All you had wanted was a peaceful trip. You had even thought it might be the best holiday season yet because you would have Tyson with you, but of course, your family had to meddle. He was the first boyfriend you had ever officially brought home. And ever since you were in high school there were always relative and family friends asking if you had a boyfriend yet or if you would be willing to go out with Janet’s “very successful” grandson. 

“Mom, we aren’t there yet,” you started, “we’re young and we haven’t been together long and Tyson has hockey.” Your mom rolled her eyes and batted her hand as if none of that mattered. “(Y/N), he’s a wonderful boy and all I’m saying is that your grandma is getting older and you know she would want to go to your wedding…” she told you. “Are you really trying to guilt me into getting married? This is a new low” you huffed. Your mom was sadly not one to stop pressing. “My veil is upstairs and, I mean, you really don’t want to wait too long.” You determinedly spun around to march out of the kitchen. As you reentered the living room you paused for a second as you saw Tyson curled up with a blanket on the sofa, seemingly enamored with the silly holiday movie. You moved to stand in front of him and reached both of your hands out for his. “Do you want to go somewhere,” you asked. Even though the movie seemed to be at its climax with the main character going through some kind of post-breakup montage, Tyson dutifully stood up and went with you as you pulled him to the door to get your coats, keys, and shoes. 

The sun went down so early in the winter so while it wasn’t that late it was dark out… and cold. Not quite raining or snowing, but there were wet flurries here and there as you walked down the path towards the car. Tyson hopped in the passenger’s seat because you knew the roads having grown up here. Both of you were quiet as you began to drive. There wasn’t a clear destination in your head. You headed towards the downtown part of the city where there was more to do, just hoping that something would jump out at you. That something that you had been waiting for jumped out at Tyson instead.

“Hey, hey, hey, (Y/N),” he blurted out excitedly. As you looked at what he was frantically pointing at you saw the outdoor ice rink. You looked back at him questioningly. “Tyson, you skate every day,” you said. “Yeah, but not with you,” he replied drawing out the last word. At that, you exaggeratingly raised your eyebrow thinking of the Avs family skate the two of you had gone to just over a week ago. He returned your look with puppy dog eyes that had you pulling into the first available parking spot. 

While you were waiting in line for your skates, Tyson hip-checked you and then pulled you back by your clasped hand. You thought he probably sensed that something was off. If your quietness wasn’t enough of an indicator, the fact that you rushed out of the kitchen and then promptly dragged him out of the house definitely was. He moved to wrap an arm around your waist and then kissed the top of your hair. Tyson had the wonderful quality of always being snuggly warm without overheating you so you pressed yourself against him in an attempt to warm up. 

Once you finally had your rented skates in hand, he insisted on tying them for you. Afterwards, he reached out a hand to pull you up. While you hadn’t been raised a skater in any sense, Tyson had worked hard to teach you on a few different occasions which meant that at this point you could solidly skate around without falling. As your skating ability increases so did his ability to tease you while skating. When you first started he couldn’t even move from your death grip without you panicking, but now that you could keep yourself steady he could pull you faster or be otherwise obnoxious to make you laugh. In this case, it meant Tyson trying to spin you under his arm like you were ballroom dancing. This meant that you would inevitably stumble into his chest, both of you in fits of giggles. 

That was one of your favorite parts of dating Tyson. He had an uncanny ability to cheer you up. If you had a bad day at work he would put on a production of singing ‘00s pop songs until tears were streaming down your face from laughing so hard. When he was in Edmonton and you were still in Colorado, he sent you a framed picture of himself with a note that said, “just because I know you miss me sooooooooooooo much.” Now here he was spinning you around an outdoor rink in your hometown, being perfect one again. 

As the night grew on, the other skaters began to clear out which left just you, Tyson, and a group of three teenagers still on the ice. The two of you were skating more calmly while you chatted quietly about random things - some prank he had played on JT, a story Grandpa Jost had told about his band practice, a project you were doing at work. Eventually, he pulled you to the side of the rink so that you faced each other. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened,” he asked with a knowing look on his face. You tried to play dumb and put on your best I have no idea what you’re talking about face. Tyson sighed, “do you really think I’ll believe that you just happened to storm out of the kitchen and drag me out for no reason?” He clearly had you cornered but in a last ditch effort you tried to steer the conversation away one more time: “I thought you were having fun! You’re the one who wanted to go skating.” Tyson crossed his arms and gave you a look which told you he wasn’t going to let you avoid the question.

“Okay, fine. My mom was just pressuring me… about you. And I needed a break,” you told him. As you looked back up to make eye contact you could see Tyson’s face drop. “Oh,” he said, “I thought they liked me.” Your heart broke at how sad he looked. It was clear that he really was trying hard to impress them and valued their opinion of him. Even though you would rather not tell him just how much your family liked him, you knew that you had to. It might make things a bit awkward - not because he would get scared off, but because you knew that he would likely tease you incessantly - but it would at least take the kicked puppy look off of your boyfriend’s face.

You sighed, “no Tyson, they fucking loved you, that’s the problem.” The sad look on his face diminished slightly, curiosity taking its place. “My mom may have been asking me when I was going to lock that down,” you told him, making air quotes around the final words. At this, Tyson broke out into a wide smile, “I see.” He spun away a bit and broke out into Gracie Hart’s, “you think I’m gorgeous, you wanna daaaate me, love me, and marry me!” You put your hands to your red face and began skating towards him as he waggled his eyebrows and did a little dance. “Tyson it’s not funny,” you whined. At this point you had reached the other side of the rink as he wrapped his arms around your waist and once again pressed you against the rail. 

“Seriously though, (Y/N), like, I see a future with you… You’re my favorite person and when I do get “locked down” I want you to do it.” He was clearly trying to make it a bit of a joke in case you didn’t respond the same way, but it still took you aback. In all honesty, you loved Tyson and couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. “Well, yeah, I’m hopelessly in love with you, Tys. But that doesn’t mean that I want my mom shoving her veil in my hands,” you were mumbling into his chest, but he heard you. “Yeah, I still have to buy a ring… hire a flashmob, all that stuff,” he teased. You jokingly pushed him away which made him laugh loudly while pulling you back into him. 

With both of you feeling content and the night air getting colder and colder you went back to your parent’s house for the night. You entered the front door, instantly feeling the warmth from the fireplace. The adults who were staying over were in similar positions to how you left them. They seemed to be playing some sort of card game around the coffee table. You waved to everyone as you pulled Tyson with you towards the stairs. Right before you would be out of their view, Tyson stopped and turned around.

“(Y/M/N), I’ll give you a heads up of when to pull out the veil, okay?” he shouted down. You looked to see a massive grin take over your mom’s face. “Tyson!” you chastized before running up the stairs to follow his giggling form to your room. Embarrassment and meddling mothers aside, you felt light and happy knowing that you and Tyson were in it for the long haul. The two of you had countless more giggly, teasing nights ahead of you and you couldn’t wait.

[likeshipsonthesea]

an Idea

it’s a few years after samwell, everyone has kept in touch, maybe not as much as they’d like but they meet up once a year at least all together, and then out of the blue with no warning they all get invitations to a wedding

you are invited to the wedding of connor whisk and chad white

they are all surprised but they knew whiskey was still with chad from college and it’s been a few years now so a wedding isn’t out of the question, but still, he never mentioned it. tango says he’s known for months and wasn’t there something in the gc??? he could’ve sworn connor said something

anyway, they all go, because they love whiskey despite his weirdness and once you win a ncaa cup together there’s no going back. it’s awesome to see everyone again, as it’s been a few months since their last reunion. bitty is (in his southern way) a lil peeved that he and jack weren’t the first wedding of the group but IT’S FINE also who made the cake?? oh, well, it looks lovely. when I make a cake, you know... yes, yes, bitty we know.

tango is the best man but no one else is in the wedding party and that’s fine. they all get there around the same time, sit in the same row during the ceremony. shitty holster and ransom sit at one end glaring at the lax bros on the other side of the aisle and at the reception they’re all sat together, drinking and reminiscing and telling good whiskey stories while whiskey and chad look all moon-eyed in the background

and dex, sat between nursey and chowder, begs off and gets up to go refill his drink only to be approached by none other than Sean the LAX bro.

sean, who dex may or may not have had a Thing with in college.

sean is friendly, says hi, asks how dex is doing, and dex is a goober but he’s not a dick so he responds, asks in kind, and they start chatting and it’s really nice. back in college, they had a Thing that was sort of dating, sort of wasn’t bc it’s hard to date someone you can’t be seen with in public, and maybe sean makes a joke-- really, just a joke-- about how if things were different they might’ve really been something

and dex-- well. it’s been years, and he liked sean and enjoyed what they had, but since then he’s come to understand the real kind of love he can feel for another guy in a way he wasn’t prepared for when he was with sean (frog year, for dex) and dex agrees, says maybe, and sean smiles (crinkly eyed, the way he always did) and begs off to go to the bathroom.

“i’d invite you with me for old times’ sake,” he jokes, referencing a time when they may or may not have done something in a bathroom stall during an alumni meet-n-greet for samwell athletes, “but i doubt you could hold me up that long again.”

dex, affronted at having his strength questioned, says, “i definitely could.”

sean laughs and walks away and dex turns back to the bar to re-refill his drink and finds Nursey on the other side of him.

nursey, who despite being dex’s roommate and best friends for several years at this point, never knew about Dex and Sean the LAX bro.

nursey walks away without saying anything and, once dex has his drink, he follows, and it’s tense. dex isn’t really sure why-- he’s awkward at having nursey know this secret, but really nursey should be chirping him right now, not sitting there sullenly and refusing to eat the extra croutons dex gave him in exchange for some of nursey’s tomatoes.

the night goes on in much the same way as before, except now nursey and dex aren’t talking, and the other guys notice it-- chowder for sure-- but they’re not in college and they don’t interfere with nursey and dex’s relationship (they all had a meeting at one point and said we don’t get involved and despite drunken antics at christmas parties and rambly phone calls they might get from nursey or dex about how pretty he is and how i love him so much they refuse to get involved)

there’s drinking, dancing, cake that’s good even if bitty didn’t make it, and they all get back to the hotel (the wedding’s in whatever city whiskey’s playing hockey in now but i can’t really decide where, may be the coyotes bc i’m p sure whiskey’s from there, may be the bruins idk) and they all go to their separate rooms, which leaves nursey and dex in the double-bed room they reserved together

and it’s tense in the room, tangibly, as they take off their fancy clothes and get into sweats and t-shirts and, look, they are not teenagers anymore, they’re adults with jobs and a lease and their very own menagerie of plants ( i know menagerie means animals but the plants are pets to them) and so when nursey curtly says, “do you mind if i turn out the light” dex very calmly and maturely says

“what’s wrong”

in a voice that is Not higher than his normal pitch Nor is it laced exceedingly with Emotion

“nothing”

“nursey”

“dex”

“nursey.”

nursey sighs. “nothing’s wrong. it’s stupid.”

“if it’s making you be a dick it’s probably not stupid.”

nursey glares.

dex stares back without remorse.

nursey turns away. “you had a thing with a lax bro.”

dex squints. “really? this is about that dumb rivalry?”

“no.” nursey crosses his arms over his chest. “no. it’s-- i don’t know.”

“nursey, why does it matter than i had a thing with a lax bro more than half a decade ago?”

“i don’t know--! i--” nursey shakes his head, ducking his chin to his chest. muffled, he says, “i don’t like it.”

“what? nursey--”

nursey picks up volume, words tumbling out alcohol tinged and hurt. “i don’t like that you never told me, i don’t like that he was there tonight, i don’t like that he was flirting with you, i don’t like that you were flirting back, i--” he softens, unfolding his arms to pick at the seams in the comforter. “i know i can’t get mad about stuff like this. it’s not fair. i guess the whole thing tonight just made me--” he shrugs. “i mean, whiskey. emotionally stunted whiskey’’s got fucking monogrammed bath towels with a guy from college and i’m still here in unrequited love with my best friend.”

dex stares from across the space between the beds. the comforter is too heavy in his lap. his mind swims with alcohol and confusion. it somehow decides that saying the following is a perfectly good response to nursey’s proclamation of love. “the towels aren’t really that impressive,” he says, “they already had the same initials.”

nursey, half drunk and half to tears, bursts into laughter that sounds like it hurts.

dex gets tangled in his bedsheets pushing the blankets from his legs but manages to stumble over to nursey before the laughter turns to tears and he collapses on nursey’s bed. “nursey, i--” dex shakes his head. “i don’t want sean. i haven’t wanted sean since i was 18.”

nursey glances up, face awash in self pity and sadness and--

“i--i haven’‘t wanted sean since i started wanting you,” dex says. nursey looks up, sad eyes widening slowly. “it’s been you for years, asshole. i thought you knew.”

and then there’s kissing and crying and a little bit of lamenting time lost but mostly just elation for the time to come and it’s a wonderful night all around.

a few weeks later, in a nice apartment in whatever city whiskey plays in, a little envelop with the return address for derek nurse appears in the mail.

whiskey frowns down at the thank-you note. “they’re all so weird,” he complains, reading through nursey’s explanation of what whiskey’s wedding did for him and dex.

“it’s sweet,” chad says, pressing a kiss to whiskey’s frowning cheek. he plucks the card from whiskey’s hand and puts it on the fridge.

[bqstqnbruin]

Teach me something 4

I’m sad Calgary went home but at least the Blues did, too. 

ANYWAY here’s the last part of Teach me something (unless I think of something else to write about), and let me tell you, this is s o f t Matthew (in my opinion)

The song at the end is called Fathers and Sons from Working: the musical

I hope you like it!

Read the other parts:  part 1// part 2 // part 3 _______________________

“One last thing before the bell this is going to be really quick so I need everyone’s eyes on me,” you spit out in one breath, “I posted the homework problems online on Hess’s Law and those are due next class so please make sure you do them!” You managed to get everyone out, praying that all your students actually listened to what you said. 

Making a mental note to send out an email to the class, your students rush out the door and on their way to lunch. Trying to set up quickly before you had your next class, you hear, “Hey, mom?” coming from behind you. Your son, Oliver, is standing in the doorway, a worried look on his face. 

“Hi, Ollie. Do me a favor, get out the hot plates from under these cabinets and put two on each bench, ok?” He puts his bag down by your desk, bending down to help you out with what you need. 

“Mom?” he asks again.

“Ollie.”

  “Does Dad know what we’re going to tonight?” 

“Well, that depends. Did you tell your father?” 

“No. I thought you did.”

“Oliver, I told you. You were the one who wanted to do this, and you asked me not to tell Dad, so I kept my word. If you want to tell him before we leave tonight, then that’s up to you.” You look over at your son, just standing there in staring at a hot plate. His curly hair just like Matthew’s, the same eye shape, but your eye color, built like his father, but not as much of a pest. 

“What if he doesn’t like that I’m doing this because it isn’t hockey related?” 

You let out a little chuckle at how nervous your son was. You couldn’t help it. “Your father wants nothing more than for you to be happy. He doesn’t care what you do to get there. If you want to tell him before we leave, then that’s up to you, just know that I’m driving either way and we have to pick up Tessa from her swim practice so she’s going to smell like chlorine.”

“Mom, he’s going to think it’s dumb!” Oliver whines, sitting down on one of the stools.

“If he says it is then you tell him it’s dumb that his mouthguard was never in his mouth when he played. How your father even still has teeth is beyond me,” you say, sitting down next to your son with your lunch. If he was going to talk during your lunch period, he might as well eat with you.

“Mom!” he whines again, getting his own lunch out. 

You stare at your son as you chew on the sandwich Matthew had made for you the night before. You couldn’t believe your baby boy was a freshman in high school already, let alone worrying about what his dad would think of tonight. “Is this something that you’re proud of?” 

“Yeah,” he says, staring at his own sandwich.

“Then, bub, your father is going to be happy. Dad doesn’t care how you get there,” you tell him, ruffling his hair, “As long as it doesn’t end up with you in jail.” 

He laughs, swatting your hand away from his hair. “I just hope I don’t mess up.” 

“I won’t care if you do,” you shrug.

“And you already have your tickets?” 

“Ten seconds after they went on sale I got three of them.”

“And Aunt Rory will be there?” 

“Aunt Rory will be there with Uncle Logan.”

“What about Uncle Johnny?” he asks, talking about his godfather, Matthew’s old teammate.

“Everyone who you asked to be there will be there. And if they aren’t then I will personally drag them by the ear for another night and make them pay for my ticket.” He laughs, thinking you’re joking. When he realizes you’re not, his eyes go wide.

“And none of them have told Dad?” 

You can’t help but laugh at his worry. Even he has to know it’s just nervousness for tonight. “I told everyone that if they told your father then we would no longer associate ourselves with them.” 

“Mom! Isn’t Aunt Rory Tessa’s godmother?” 

“Yeah, and Uncle Johnny is your godfather, what’s your point?”

“Can you do that?”

“I can and I will if someone disappoints my son. Don’t think your father wouldn’t do the same. But you gotta get going! The bell’s going to ring and you have French on the other side of the school,” you tell him, trying to ruffle his hair again.

  “I’ll see you tonight?” 

“Bye, bub,” you say, kissing his head before he runs out the door.

The rest of the school day goes by with every free minute having your mind occupying by Oliver’s worry over Matthew’s opinion. It’s not like Oliver was giving up hockey for this; he was doing it in addition. Plus, if Oliver wanted to stop hockey and do this with his life, you were going to support him, whether Matthew liked it or not. 

You get home before Matthew, patiently waiting until you had to go get Tessa from her swim practice, making dinner for the two of you, putting some aside for your daughter to scarf down while you were in the car. “Babe, I’m home!” Matthew calls right as you finish the food.

“Good timing!” you say as he kisses you hello, taking off his suit jacket. Now that he was a retired player, the Flames had him doing things in the front office. What exactly he did, you weren’t sure, but frankly, you were too scared to ask at this point. “We have to hurry up: Tessa is done with practice in half an hour and then we have to get over to the high school for Oliver.” 

“Is Oliver’s practice bag still in your car?” Matthew asks, sitting down with you to eat your first dinner alone in what was probably months. You look at him, pretending to think if it was. He probably thought that Oliver had a game tonight. “Ollie brought it to school with him today, I think.” 

Matthew just shrugs, seeing to buy it. The two of you eat a fast dinner, remembering to grab food for Tessa. Oliver had said they were having pizza tonight together, so you didn’t need to worry about him. You just to worry about Matthew.

The two of you run out of the door on your way to get Tessa, Matthew grabbing one of his old Flames jackets on the way out. He loved seeing his son playing hockey, it took him back to the time when he did, just like his dad used to watch him and Brady. You felt bad lying about Oliver having a game since he loved going to them so much, but this was Oliver’s secret that he wanted you to keep. 

Driving to the pool where Tessa had swim practice, Matthew couldn’t stop talking about something that was going on with the team. You tried to pay attention, but just like when you were talking to him about science, you had no clue what the other was saying. You filled it his breaks in speech with “That’s nice, honey,” and “Oh, interesting.” He knew you didn’t understand anything, but you let him talk anyway because it made him happy. 

“Hi, mom, hi dad,” Tessa says, bouncing into the car. Matthew hands her the food you made for her, not saying anything as she snatches it and starts diving in.

  “So how’s my little barracuda?” Matthew asks her, prompting an eye roll from his daughter.

“Dad, I told you, we’re just barracudas. We’re not little anymore, we’re 11.” 

“Yeah, no, not how this works,” Matthew says, “You’re my little girl until I die.” You can’t help but smile as Tessa groans, knowing how much Matthew loves your children. Oliver really didn’t have anything to worry about.

“Don’t be a pest, please, you aren’t on the ice,” you tease as you pull into the high school. 

“Are we picking up Oliver from here? I thought he was getting a ride from the rink?” How your husband thought anything is beyond you, but that wasn’t the issue right now. Tessa was doing everything she can not to burst out laughing at Matthew’s naivety. 

“No, we’re going in,” you say, getting out of the car. 

“Why?” 

“Babe, please, just trust me,” you say, dragging him into the school. 

“Why are we going in this way? The rink isn’t here.” Matthew whines, Tessa stifling a laugh. You were getting there just in time that you could sneak in as the doors were about to close, you may or may not have convinced a student into keeping the door open until you showed up. 

“Shush.” 

You find your seats, Rory, Logan, and Johnny all already there. 

“What are we doing here? What are you guys doing here?” All of you but Matthew knew what was about to happen, the other three just smiling and shrugging. “Y/N, aren’t we going to miss puck drop?”

You try your hardest not to laugh as the director steps out on stage to introduce what was about to happen, “Don’t worry, we won’t miss anything.”

“Hello and welcome to opening night of our show this year: Stephen Schwartz’s Working.” The audience starts to clap, Matthew looking more confused than anything. “We have a really great show tonight, including some freshman talent that we look forward to having for the next four years, our seniors that will be leaving us, and everyone else in between!” She goes on to say a little more, Matthew completely confused as to why you were there and not Oliver’s nonexistent hockey game. The show is short enough for there to be no intermission, which means that Matthew had no time to ask questions until after the show. 

Most of the show goes by, Matthew anxiously checking his watch for the puck drop that wasn’t going to happen. 

After about an hour, Oliver walks out on stage for the first time. You hear Matthew suck in his breath as he takes your hand in his. You look over at him, a smile on his face bigger than one you had ever seen, and Oliver hadn’t even done anything yet. He had no idea Oliver was in this, nor did he know what was about to happen. You rest your head on Matthew’s shoulder, Oliver swinging a guitar from his back to his front, you not even noticing he had it there in the first place. Neither of you knew if Oliver could even play guitar.

He starts strumming, goosebumps covering your skin as you get lost in the melody of the somber song he’s about to sing. Matthew could barely keep it together as his son started singing. “I hear a lotta songs say ‘where you goin’ my son?’ Now I know they’re true. Boy, you never stop to think how fast the years run, now they’re taking you.”

Listening to the song, Matthew thinks about the day Oliver was born. Fourteen years ago felt like yesterday, you sitting there in the hospital beaming down, Matthew remembering his heart stopping as soon as he held son, tears welling into his eyes, Oliver’s little hands reaching out to touch Matthew, opening his eyes and yawning immediately after; Matthew thinking that everything in that hospital room was all he could ever love, until Tessa came along, too. 

“I remember you was three ‘n’ a half, your ma and me, we’d sit there after things got quieted. We’d laugh at some new word you said, how tough you were to get to bed, and we’d plan the night away. Planning for your kid”

Those few nights when three-year-old Oliver and baby Tessa fell asleep at night at the same time, you and Matthew sitting on the couch, watching TV. You were so tired, the school year just getting into the swing of things, the hockey season about to pick up, after Oliver had that nasty fall that sent him to the hospital. He remembers you talking about an excited Oliver got seeing his daddy on TV, baby Tessa squealing as she copied her brother’s noises. Matthew sat there, listening to you, thinking about how he could never have pictured a better life.

“I was your hero then. I couldn’t do no wrong as far as you were concerned. You thought I was the best of men. The tables hadn’t turned, you hadn’t learned how little time it takes. And daddies make mistakes.” 

Matthew felt a tear escape from his eye, not even realizing that he felt so emotional over the song. He didn’t know if it was the fact that the song was about a father seeing his son grow up before his eyes, or that it was his own son sitting there singing. He knew Oliver didn’t have a perfect picture of his dad; hell, he watched his dad get in fights nearly ever game, probably knew every swear word that existed by the time he was seven. Matthew was the reason Oliver ended up in the hospital for the first time when he was three, all the other times after he had started playing hockey because Matthew did, and so did his dad. 

Oliver keeps singing, every line taking Matthew to another place in his own childhood or his life as a husband and a father. When he was younger, he thought his greatest accomplishments would be as a hockey player, but damn, he was wrong. It was this, right here. It was Oliver, Tessa, you, the life after hockey and the life inside your home. 

You hear Matthew sniffle, feeling him move a little. You look up at him, wiping a tear that had fallen down his cheek. You can’t help but smile, thinking of how happy Oliver will be that his father actually is proud of him. You sit up and kiss him on the cheek, setting back down on his shoulder as Oliver enters into a monologue, still strumming along on the guitar. 

“This may sound square, but my kid is my imprint, you know what I mean? This is why I work. Every time I see a smart young guy walkin’ by dressed real sharp, I’m lookin’ at my kid. You know what I want? I want my kid to tell me he’s not going to be like me. I want him to look at me and say, “Dad, you’re a nice guy, but you’re a freakin’ dummy.” Hell, yes. If you can’t improve yourself, you improve your posterity. Otherwise, life isn’t worth nothin’.”  Matthew doesn’t hear the rest of the song. He could previously count the number of times on one hand when he’s cried the way he was now: the night he proposed to you and you saying yes, both times you told him you were pregnant, and the first time he held Oliver and Tessa. He’s trying his hardest not to make any noise. He did not need anyone looking at him sobbing like a child while his kid is putting on a performance like this. 

He glances at Rory and Logan, both of them beaming at the stage like he was their own son; Johnny looking completely lost, but he knows that he’s proud of his godson, too. 

“Now it seems I always knew, why I do the things I do and the things I never did. Why I work my whole damn life: so’s I could give a better life than the one my dad could give me/ I give it to my kid.” Oliver stops strumming, everyone bursting out in applause. You and Matthew were probably the loudest ones cheering, not caring if you caused a scene for your own child. Tessa was trying to shrink into her seat out of embarrassment while the two of you were the only ones standing up and screaming. Oliver tried not to break character; trying to keep the straight face once he heard his parents voices, his dad’s voice, as the rest of the cast came out for the finale. “You think about a piece of work. Even, let’s say, Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. This beautiful work of art. But what if he had to create the Sistine Chapel a thousand times a year? Don’t you think that would dull even Michelangelo’s mind?”

Matthew couldn’t stop smiling: Oliver and Tessa were yours and his Sistine Chapels. He couldn’t think of anything better than what he had. Honestly, he wants Oliver to have a better life than he had, like the song says, but he doesn’t think that’s really possible. He doesn’t think anything could top what he has. 

 The song after Oliver’s is the last one, everyone leaving the stage and coming back out for bows. Oliver is one of the last people out. Matthew has no idea, but you know that it means he’s one of the most important people in the cast. Regardless, everyone you were with; Tessa, Rory, Logan, Johnny, all of you couldn’t help but jump up when Oliver came out to bow. You could see the red form on his cheeks through the makeup. He looked like he was looking for you in the crowd, even though he wouldn’t be able to see you with the light shining in his face. 

 Everyone starts to file out of the auditorium, Matthew just sitting there like he’s unable to move.

“Are you mad we didn’t tell you?” you ask, the rest of your group standing around you. “He thought you wouldn’t like that it wasn’t hockey and got nervous.”

“I wish he would have told me,” Matthew says. “I’m not mad.

“You just have to tell him that.”

You all get up to go meet Oliver out in the lobby of the auditorium. You see him standing there with someone else in the show. “Oliver you were amazing!” you gush, definitely embarrassing him in front of his friend as you hug him. Johnny and Rory praise his performance, Matthew standing back while Tessa even compliments him. 

Oliver looks at his father, nervous as his dad stands behind you. You push Matthew towards his son. He’s obviously a little hurt about Oliver not wanting to tell him, but he’ll get over it. “Are you mad?” Oliver asks.

“Mad? Of course,” Matthew stops. You can’t help but smile at the way he was teasing your son, even though Oliver looked genuinely afraid, “I’m not.” 

You hear Oliver release the breath he was holding as Matthew takes him in for a hug. “Fuck, I couldn’t be more proud of you.” 

“Matthew! Language!” you scold. 

“He plays hockey, it’s nothing new,” he shrugs. “But, bud, why didn’t you want me to know about this?”

“It wasn’t hockey so I didn’t think you would enjoy it as much. You always say hockey is something we share and that’s what you love about it,” he says, not looking at his dad. You could tell Matthew’s heart was breaking a little bit over that.

 “Oh, come on. I loved it because it made you happy.” Oliver looks up at him. “That’s all I care about.”

“Told you,” you say, shrugging, knowing that Oliver would hate to get overly sentimental.

“Mom!” Oliver says, Matthew just laughing.

“But tell me more about this show. I really only paid attention when you were on stage,” Matthew says, running his hand through his hair. 

“It’s a musical from, like, the 70s, or something,” Oliver starts to stay.

“Yeah, I was in it when I was a senior in high school. I was the teacher,” you cut in.

“That’s right, you would have been in high school when this came out.”

You and Matthew both look at Oliver, who seems to really believe the statement he just put out there, “How old do you think we are?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Your grandparents were born in the 70s. We were born in the late 90s,” Matthew says, his voice getting a little higher out of frustration.

Rory, Logan and Johnny are standing with you, laughing at the fact that your children think you’re twenty years older than you actually are. “Hey, Johnny, Rory, the kids know you’re both older than us,” you point out, Oliver and Tessa nodding in agreement, their laughter stopping as they realize the kids probably think they were born in the 60s or something. 

“Your father has no concept of science, you two have no concept of math or time, oh my god, I’ve failed as a teacher,” you start to mumble, Matthew still having a minor freakout over his children’s opinions on your age.

“Shit, we’re all old,” Matthew lets out.

“At least we’re going to be getting older together,” you say, this time trying to embarrass your kids. Matthew pulls you in for a kiss, Tessa and Oliver groaning over your PDA.

“Ah, you have a lifetime of this, kids,” Matthew says, kissing you again as you leave to go home.