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shojizbae · 7 months ago

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Explorative Operation

Spencer Reid x reader

(takes place during season 6 after JJ leaves) oops spoilers, dw she comes back

Garcia's snooping goes too far, and she ends up unearthing some truths about the new hire. Unfortunately, those truths feel are a little more intimate than you were willing to divulge with the team. Especially details you wouldn't want to spread on a first date.

Spencer had no clue how this happened. Of course, curiosity killed the cat but in this case, this was more like a mixture of hubris and inquisivity slaughtering a lion. A week of preliminary interviews had yielded 3 finalists and, finally, you. Young, stunning, sharp as a tack, and most importantly, hired. After Hotchner had announced to the team for you that you were hired, they sent you home until 8 am tomorrow.

"Baby girl, did you hear that?" Penelope swung her head around and gave her classic doe-eyed look.

"We finally got a new media liaison." The team feels the conflicted stir of relief and grief. Their workloads should be lightened but they missed JJ. It had been a couple of months since she was transferred to the Pentagon, and the team was spread too thin without her.

"Oh (L/n) or Raleigh?"

"Wasn't there three finalists?" Emily corrects

"Yeah, but Rossi said that Kuschner reminded him of his second wife, and we didn't want to relive that relationship." Penelope sipped her coffee with a cheeky look in her eye. "So, who'd they go with?"

"(L/n)." Morgan declares as he puts his hands on his hips

"Ah that's good, she had a nice clean background, good college and she crushed it in the academy." Garcia smiled and innocently clicked off to her office. Morgan and emily shared mischievous glances as Spencer sat oblivious. He held his mug by his jaw and readjusted his hand in his pocket.

"What?"

"Why don't we go learn more about our new Liasion." Emily makes a downward smile, and Morgan stalks over to clap Reid on the back

"We should, gotta know who we're hiring."

Any protests of "Well, it's not technically us who's doing the hiring, but Chief Strauss." Were silenced as Morgan marched Spencer to the hidden office of Penelope Garcia.

"C'mon, pretty boy, no need to argue." Just down a hallway and around the corner the trio stumbles across the neon red curls of Penelope. Emily knocks on the jam of the open door.

"Hey Penny, we've got some questions about this miss ((L/n)."

"Oh, smart ones kneeling at the keeper all pearls of wisdoms in search of the A's to their Q's." Garcia spins around in her chair like a cartoon villain.

"We just want to know some things about this new liaison. You know this wound is still so fresh with JJ being gone and all." Emily plays innocently

"Well, they want this information. I want nothing to do with this sleuthing." Reid shows his palms in surrender and tries to spin around the counter but Morgan grabs him by the back of his sweater,

"Oh, know you don't, pretty boy."

"No," She points her finger in his face. "You can't use JJ as a chip in your nasty snooping."

"We just wanna know if there's anything we should be worried about, mama." Morgan juts out his lip

"You know I can't resist that sexy puppy face." Garcia spins around and flicks up her recent searches on you. A hundred files fly up, including credit car history, hospital visits, and even that dreaded 'permanent record' that every school principal threatens. Shockingly, all that's on it is that you got in a fistfight in seventh grade and served three weeks of after-school detention and a subsequent suspension from your varsity tennis team.

"What's this in her medical history?" Emily points at a page hidden behind a few tabs.

"Uhh, it just shows she had a pretty average childhood; she had her tonsils and adenoids removed at age five after some repeated tonsillitis and bronchitis. She broke her right arm when she was 7 and then her left one when she was 10. And oh god, she gave birth at seventeen, but 8 months prior, she had a rape kit administered." the ream halts a moment.

"Did the case go through?" Spencer questioned

"Yes, she filed suit for statutory a week after her kit and won the case, he went to jail for 6 years." Garcia clicks away

"What about the baby?" Emilys voice wavers

"Oh lord, he died 3 hours after she gave birth." Tears gather in Penelope's eyes. When she did a preliminary background search, most of the information was 'history of mental illness' or 'criminal record', of which she found none.

"Alright, I don't want to do this anymore." She took her hands off the keyboard

"That's alright, baby girl, you've done plenty. Why don't we take lunch?"

The next morning, you arrived before anyone else. All ready to start the day fresh. You even went out of the way to go to the fancy bakery up the street of your new apartment to get treats. You unlocked your office to get familiarized with it but were sent into a spin at the state of it. You spent the following forty minutes refining the filing cabinet, even pushing the desk into a different corner. Human metabolism caught up with you, and you went out to the kitchenette, and even as you started a fresh brew of coffee, you were wiping down the counters and organizing the tea by top notes. It didn't dawn on you that you had an audience. When the small alarm on the machine dinged, you filled your mug and put in a splash of creamer.

"Did you bribe the team with donuts?" you shot out of the refrigerator, ready to pulverize whoever scared you.

"Woah!" a brown-skinned man holds his hands up in surrender. "I just want to thank you. They were delicious. My name is SSA Derek Morgan, I'll be working with you." He holds out a hand, and I shake it bashfully.

"Yeah, I figured I'd attempt to start things off on a sweet note." I force out an awkward giggle but clear my throat. "If you need me, I'll be in my office." I take my coffee and skitter off the small flight of stairs to start raking through the freshly organized files of suspected serial killers. All day, I answer calls and prioritize deaths. For a moment, I ponder whether this job could give me a god complex, and I hope it doesn't. A knock on my door rips me from my trance, and an older Italian man with a lazy eye.

"We're going to meet at the round table. I'm SSA David Rossi." I shoot out of my chair and greet him with a firm handshake.

"Yes, sir, nice to see you again." I follow after him as we round a corner. Bloody photos of three crime scenes are displayed on the TV screen. The team finds it difficult to focus on the gory details as the new girl explains the details of the case. Your outfit isn't outrageous.

A gray pencil skirt with a small slit on the back, a white button down, but you'd rolled up your sleeves, and you wore a sweater. You'd clipped your hair up, but wavy little bits fell and framed your face. You paced around with the remote in hand as your boss divulged more of the science. When they make the decision to leave in an hour, you're the last to leave, but you give friendly smiles to everyone as they file out.

Between departure and arrival, you speak with the local PD to alert them of your arrival. Over the three-hour flight, you watch the team rake all scraps of evidence for a story. Garcia and I rake over misdemeanors in Nebraska to try and grasp a victim pool. As liaison, it's my job to chit-chat with police officers, grieving relatives, and generally anybody. Despite that, Hotch takes the lead as we intersperse our teams.

"And this is our liaison, Agent (Y/n) (L/n); she'll be your access to us." They break down every scrap of information in a way that's less scientific but artful. Instantly, I fell in love with my job. After 90 minutes of questioning, this is what I've gathered.

It's a man, he's impotent because he targets hookers. Apologies, prostitute or lady of the night. Shocking job because it's freezing up in Nebraska, even in April. He feels slight remorse because he poses his victims like a traditional corpse, yet he views them as objects because he leaves them in their underwear. Which seems typical if you're going to see a hooker that she might get naked if you pay her.

Now, we just need to figure out why.

I go with Emily and Seaver to speak with grieving families. We learn bits and pieces of each history. That's how each case went. Your training wrapped up only a few cases later. You decide that since you were given free rein and that the team was really starting to show openness to you it was time you hosted a fun get-together. Wrapping up a case in Florida and touching back down at Quantico at two pm, you ask the team,

"Would you guys like to go get some drinks?" everyone looks hesitant. Grief and tensity underline their features. So you try to fabricate a good night, "I could get some wine coolers and Chinese food." you smile hopefully. Hotchner relents

"I'll come so long as I can bring Jack."

"Alright, are there any foods he prefers ooh or any allergies?" Your excitement cuts you off. Your eyes scan the team and land on Spencer. He's slowly cut his hair shorter and some of the sadness has fallen from his eyes. He purses his lips and puts his hands in his pockets,

"I prefer Thai," he sighs

"Not a problem, there's a Thai place down the road." you punch in the passcode on your Blackberry. "I could call it in now?"

"That's alright. Just send me your address. I'll be there whenever you text." His face heats up, and he slinks off to his desk to file his report with record speed and detail.

"Great. I'll email the team my address, and I'll buzz you up at six," I offer, and Emily nods.

"If there will be wine coolers, I should bring something palatable." Rossi makes his famous little smirk, and Aaron regards him with a knowing smile.

"Ooh, this will be nice, I'll bring some beers. Baby girl are you coming over to (Y/n)'s?" Morgan steals Garcia's attention as she clicks out to greet the team after a job well done

"Oh, that sounds like a hoot and a holler!" She cheers pointedly

Sometime around Eight pm that night, the cheap alcohol had flown, and Aaron was bringing his sober son home. Rossi and Emily were giggling over a real bottle of champagne from France. Morgan was laughing as he finished off his fourth beer and watched Reid desperately writhe under your highly obvious flirting. Your heels had long been kicked off, but you still squirmed around in nylons and a white scoop-neck t-shirt.

"So, Reid, how many degrees do you have?" you held your third wine cooler in your hand, and your other arm was on the leather sofa dangerously close to looping around Spencer's neck. His legs are crossed, and he's still on his first beer, nervous about using any addictive substances.

"Currently, I have six, not counting my high school degree, a BA in psychology and sociology, my doctorate in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering, and recently, I got a BA in philosophy." You have the definition of an ear-to-ear smile.

"That is ridiculously impressive." you practically radiate light as you make the most genuine eye contact and take a sip of your bottle.

"Thank you," he replies curtly

"No, I mean it. You're so far above my metric of impressiveness. Your girlfriend must be a lucky woman."

"What makes you think I have a girlfriend?" He smiles at your classically alcohol-flushed face

"You don't? So I wouldn't be encroaching if I asked you on a date?" It's almost like you halted time and the rotation of oxygen.

"I wouldn't say encroaching, but maybe.."

"Are you against it?" You kind of shift closer to him

"Certainly not. I just don't know if you're familiar with the coworkers dating clause."

"I just signed my contract, I am very familiar. So long as it doesn't impede our ability to collaborate."

"So how about," Slowly, you've shifted closer to him so that you're nearly chest to chest, and he leans backward? " Tomorrow at eight p.m., I'll pick you up, and we'll go get Thai."

"That sounds lovely."

"Perfect." you smile in content and give him some personal space.

Nine am rolls around, and you make your way to the office to prepare for a long day of phone calls and gore. A stabbing in Knoxville that seemed like a gang collision. Some suspicious kills in Annapolis that definitely should be presented, and a murder/suicide in Vegas. You called the meeting, and Hotch decided that the team needs some rest and that they should meet at the jet tomorrow at eight. You spend the rest of your day sorting files and answering emails.

At five, you saunter to Reid's desk and smile at his slightly sweaty face. "I'll see you in three hours." You wink. Once you get in your car, you scream in glee and squeeze the wheel. The next three hours are spent in anxiety. You shower and blow dry your hair, opting to take out your contacts for the night. You decide on jeans, a tank top, and a big UCLA hoodie.

You leave your house at exactly 7:47, so the 13-minute drive will leave you at Reid's doorstep at exactly eight. You find him sitting on his porch step, swinging his hand in front and behind his back until his hands collide. You pull off to the side and roll down the window,

"Get in, loser. We're going shopping!"

"What?" he still jogs up to the window, and you unlock your door for him.

"C'mon, you've never heard of mean girls? Regina George?"

"No, I watch nerdy movies, old classical films."

"That is a classic. Seat belt, please. We'll have to watch it sometime." You put the car in drive and take him into the small 'Chinatown' near your apartment. You two got pad Thai and khao pad and drove to a scenic park to enjoy it. Being all too familiar with Ted Bundy and James Thomas, you lock the doors tight.

"Do you want to keep the radio playing?" Even with the car in park, you keep the car running, so the heat will keep you warm. The radio plays some old Radio Head songs.

"Sure, if you want to." He tears open the brown paper bag. You grab the bar under your seat, push it all the way back, and bring your knees up to your chest. Reid hands you your fried rice, and you get a pair of chopsticks from him. You eat the rice with ease, and Spencer looks at you perplexed. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" you cover your mouth with your hand as you chew

"Eat with those freaking sticks." His anger is overlain with his flummoxed tone.

"I don't know, there's always been a lot of Asian restaurants near me. It's like kids who just know how to play the piano after watching their parents." This launches Spencer into a five-minute speech about inherited talents' pathology. When he finally runs out of breath, he's relieved that you never told him to can it. In fact, you sat there intently, listening to him ramble on about inherent perceptions.

"I've talked a lot, so why don't you tell me something about you?" he fiddles with his fingers as he focuses on you.

"Uh, what to say that's not too weird," you scan over the ceiling of your car as you think out loud, "Uh, in college, I nearly switched my major to film after watching Breakfast at Tiffanies and then buying copies of hundreds of old films."

"Really? What about those old movies that drew you in?" He struggles to get some noodles and you hold back your giggles

"Romance seemed more simple back then. I mean, I'm aware that it was normal and even expected to domestically abuse, but that doesn't mean that Liz Taylor and Marylin Monroe didn't play in some of my favorite movies. I had some shitty exes that thought it was better to be like reality rather than film."

"Is one of them the one that got you pregnant?"

"What? How do you know about that?" It took Spencer far too long to register what had slipped from his mouth. Before he could even begin his explanation with a double side of apologies, you had launched into a rant about men and privacy and why everyone sucked.

"Explain yourself!" you demanded with the same intonation of a banshee

"The team was working on your background check, and we did some further snooping. We found your medical records, and it said you lost your son at 17 years old?" tears had gathered in your eyebags in a way that resembled sweat.

"Why would you stay to dig? Why did you did at all?"

"I would like you to know that it wasn't my idea, although I know you don't care. I just wanted to know more about you."

"And you couldn't just come up and ask about my favorite color or favorite Beatles song?" you raked your hands through your hair.

" I didn't-I," he sighed through his teeth, "I didn't mean to violate your privacy. It was wrong. I shouldn't have done it. If I could take it back, I wouldn't because knowing you're not the perfect Barbie you appear to be gives me the bravery to talk to you. Knowing you're not perfect, it-it forces me to think about you as a human, not just the goddess I perceive." The tears pouring down your face change from anger and betrayal to shock and elation.

No man had treated you with such adoration, not entirely. Most of them buttered you up with words that were so predictable they could be seen as binary code. These words. These words are original and genuine. It never struck you that someone could love you from so little without touching you.

Touch.

You tugged your sleeve up the heel of your palm, wiped your eyes, and then placed your hand on Spencer's forearm. At first, he jumped back from the contact, but he slid his hand into yours slowly.

"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, ever."

"It's just the truth; in your second case, you said you hate liars." you giggle a little as your tears dry up.

"Would it be too soon to kiss you?" your smile is all shy and crooked

"Only if you say so," he chews on his inner lip but the apprehensive lean in makes your chest lift.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #light angst #one shot #angst with a happy ending

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ofmdrecaps · 6 months ago

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07/10/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Vico Oritz and Samba Schutte; Rachel House; Lindsey Cantrell; Kristian Nairn and Nathan Foad in Wee John Wednesday!; Gypsy Taylor/Ra Vincent/ Adam Wheatley; Articles; Cheers M'Queers; YouBearFineThingsWell Day 2; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika: National Kitten Day!

== David Jenkins ==

Chaos Dad was out in droves today inspiring more honking all around! First, he retweeted one of our incredibly creative crewmates' Calypso cosplay and moving words from this past weekend!

Source @ StellarCyn's Twitter

Next up, David responded to our beloved @ofmooshd with some encouraging words! What are you up to David?

Source: David Jenkins' Twitter

== Rhys Darby ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew are pushing everything bear this week and we love to see it! We're with you crew, so excited! Here's the Decider Article they linked, and the exclusive clip with Rhys below!

youtube

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

== Taika Waititi ==

Today I learned that Taika was one of the Executive Producer / Director of one of the episodes of the new series Interior Chinatown, premiering November 19th on Hulu! The man is involved in everything it seems!

Source: Ronny Chieng's Instagram

Follow up from yesterday, I had forgotten to include OFMD's bestie (Astroglide)'s response to the latest Taika version!

Source: Astroglide Twitter

== Rachel House ==

Rachel House was featured in a Concrete Playground article about her directorial debut film The Mountain!

Jumping Behind The Camera When You Love Being A Supporting Actor: Rachel House Talks 'The Mountain'

Source: Concrete Playground's Instagram

== Vico Ortiz + Samba ==

Florida Supercon is coming this weekend, 12-14 Jul and both Vico and Samba will be there both Saturday and Sunday!

Source: Vico's Instagram

Vico's other upcoming work, Lesbophilia, will be joining the LaughAfterDark Comedy Fest in October! Visit their site to learn more!

Source: its_michellewest Instagram

Ticket are now on sale for the LA premiere of FireFuckingFire at @lashortsfest They'll be screening at 10pm July 28th and closing out the festival! You can buy tickets here!

Source: juliaeringer's Instagram

A little late on my part sorry-- Happy Non Binary Awareness Week from Vico!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Vico Ortiz (@puertoricaninja)

instagram

Source: Vico's IG

== Gypsy Taylor / Ra Vincent / Adam Wheatley ==

Gypsy, Ra, and Adam were nominated for Costume Design, Production Art Department/Design, as well as Concept Art Awards with the Australian Production Design Guild! Congrats you three!

Source: Gypsy Taylor's Instagram / APDG Awards Website

== Lindsey Cantrell ==

Reminder! Our beloved set designer's new short Watching Walter will be airing at the LA Shorts festival in LA on July 19! You can buy tickets here if you're in the area!

Source: Lindsey Cantrell's Instagram Stories

== Kristian and Nathan ==

Our darling Kristian and Nathan gave us YET ANOTHER insanely fun WJW. These two are the absolute best. If you get a chance, give it a watch. CW: Mention of Witnessing Shootings/Death

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kristian Nairn (@kristiannairn)

instagram

Some minor highlights from WJW today!

Nathan's been traveling!

Both of them are going to a bunch of American Comic Cons

Kristian has been working on his book and being crafty (turned some white Nikes into Spiked, Glittery Nikes)

Kristian and Nathan will be doing a wee WJW in Raleigh with the cast if they can

Nathan will be going to a not yet announced European Comic Con sometime this year

Kristian read a few excerpts from his book

There will be an audiobook version that Kristian will voice

During OFMD S1 Kristian asked David and everyone about his accent and if he should change it and David replied with "We just want YOU Kristian"

One of the funniest days on set was Nat Faxon and the GreenScreen teeth when the Swede had Scurvy

Nathan described himself as "Nathan Underscore Foad" and now the fandom will henceforth call him this.

These were some of my favorite shots of these two:

And this is a bit of bonus features for the WJW but you'll have to watch it for context:

Source: Nathan's Instagram

Adopt Our Crew was kind enough to put together his list of where you can buy Kristian's Book! Reminder-- bookshop is great if you want to support your local bookstores!

Barnes & Noble

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Bookshop.com

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

== Articles ==

Adding already mentioned and one more article to this section for more easily finding them later! Thank you @adoptourcrew for sharing them!

Decider: The Hungry Games

The 10 Best Show's To Watch If You Love 'Lady Jane'

== Cheers M'Queers! ==

The Cheers M'Queers variety show tickets are on sale now! Join Our Flag Makes A Difference on July 31st at Akbar, in Los Angeles for drag, music, and so much more! Get your Tickets here!

Source: Our Flag Makes A Difference Twitter

== You Bear Fine Things Well ==

Yesterday was Day 2 of #YouBearFineThingsWell by @adoptourcrew and they asked the fandom what kind of bear each member of the crew would be! Starting off the fan spotlights, I'd like to give a special shoutout to the fab @ everyonegetcake on twitter, for their brilliant submission of Kraken Ed Bear aka Cocaine Bear to the event! I laughed pretty hard at this one.

Source: @ everyonegetcake

I am so very happy that our dear crewmate @sirencalll included Mary Louis and Alma! Look at that proud mama bear! <3

Source: Sirencalll on Twitter

Our badass crewmate Jeniye aka @ nifafifa on twitter got one I didn't think I'd ever see and that is Buttons and Karl!

Source: NifaFifa's Twitter

And to close out the fan spotlight of #YouBearFineThingsWell Day 2, I'd like to end on a submission by the glorious Manu, aka @ VictoriaVan9 on twitter! That is an impressive spread by both Ed AND BearEd!

Source: @ VictoriaVane9's Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies! I saw so much continuous clowning today! 2-3 days in a row? It's been a while since we've had that much all at once! I'm so happy to see people feeling the love and camaraderie with each other again! I hope that continues even if we see things calm down! Something I heard in WJW today that really stuck with me was "We just want YOU Kristian", something David said when Kristian kept asking if his Belfast accent was okay for the role. How absolutely heartwarming is that? We knew that David and the rest of the cast and crew were kind and wanted everyone to be themselves, but to hear that out of the mouth of Kristian and how it affected him, in his book where he poured out his soul-- just hit so much harder. That really is one of the major values that drew me, and I know quite a few others of the crew to OFMD so hard. Acceptance and celebration of individual uniqueness is at the core of OFMD-- it's part of the building blocks that makes our show so special. Each crew member has their own skills they bring to the table, and we can feel safe when we're allowed to be our true selves around others.

OFMD exudes that kind of acceptance in droves. We can hear it in their varying accents, in the wide array of queer portrayal, in the character's love and acceptance and forgiveness of each other-- in the music, the stage decoration, and the cinematography. We each are different, and we all bring things to the table that make the fandom, or the world a better place. We may not always get along, but it is in the uniqueness of so many crew we find creativity, love, kindness, acceptance, and a place where we can feel safe and learn to be more of our true and authentic selves. Embrace your uniqueness lovelies. You are different from me, from your moots, from your favorite fan artist/writer and that's fucking beautiful. We want YOU, crew. Be YOU in everything you do. Rest up lovelies, see you tomorrow <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Today was National Kitten Day so these two appropriate gifs just HAD to make an encore appearance. Gifs courtesy of the stunning and brilliant @kiwistede and @yourcatwasdelicious!

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dailytomlinson · 8 months ago

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369 HOTSPOTS:

Africa: Asia: — Saranrom Park, Bangkok (3PM—5PM) — New Delhi, Lodhi Garden (1:30PM—3:30PM) — Tennis Indoor Senayan, Jakarta (3PM—5PM) — Bengkel SCBD, Jakarta (3PM—5PM) — Cross Maidan Garden, Mumbai (1:30PM—3:30PM) Europe: — Wizink, Madrid — La Riviera, Madrid — Razzmatazz, Barcelona — Palau, Barcelona — Miribilla, Bilbao — Scala, London — Shepherds Bush Empire, London — O2 Manchester Apollo, Manchester — O2 Arena, London —Atlas Arena, Łódź (12PM—2PM) — The Dome, Doncaster — Utilita Arena, Sheffield — Tauron Arena, Kraków (12PM—2PM) — Międzynarodowe Targi Poznańskie, Poznań (12PM—2PM) — Meo Arena, Lisbon (3PM—5PM) Latin America: — Rioarena, Rio de Janeiro (12PM—2PM) — Allianz Parque, São Paulo (12PM—2PM) — Espaço Unimed, São Paulo (12PM—2PM) — Liggo Arena, Curitiba (12PM—2PM) — Movistar Arena, Santiago (12PM—2PM) — Estadio Bicentenario, Santiago (12PM—2PM) —Pepsi Center WTC, CDMX (2PM—4PM) — Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, CDMX (2PM—4PM) — Auditorio Josefa Ortiz de Domínguez, Queretaro (2PM—4PM) — Auditorio Telmex, Gudalajara (2PM—4PM) — Arena V.F.G., Guadalajara (2PM—4PM) — Parque Fundidora, Monterrey (2PM—4PM) — Auditorio Citibanamex, Monterrey (2PM—4PM) — Parque Centenario, Guayaquil (2PM—4PM) — Coliseo Live, Bogotá (1PM—3PM) — Movistar Arena, Bogotá (1PM—3PM) — Movistar Arena, Buenos Aires — Velez Sarsfield Stadium, Buenos Aires

North America: — Skyla Credit Union Amphitheater, Charlotte (12PM—2PM) —MGM Music Hall, Boston (12PM—2PM) — House of Blues, Boston (12PM—2PM) — AZ Financial Theater, Phoenix (2PM—4PM) — Merriweather Post Pavillion, Columbia, MD (12PM—2PM) — Kemba Live, Columbus (12PM—2PM) — Oprheum Theathe, Vancouver (2PM—4PM) —Doug Mitchell Thunderbird Sports Centre, Vancouver (2PM—4PM) — Red Hat Amphitheater, Raleigh (1PM—3PM) — Budweiser Stage, Toronto (12PM—2PM) — Greek Theater, Berkeley (2PM—4PM) — Fox Theater, Oakland (2PM—4PM) —The Anthem, DC (1PM—3PM) — Michigan Lottery Amphitheater, Sterling Heights — Fillmore Auditorium, Denver Oceania:

— Spark Arena, Auckland (7PM—9PM)

All times are LOCAL

*If you have information on more hotspots, feel free to send an inbox or add a comment with the exact place and time window

*Most hotspots are at venues Louis has played before, on tour or other separate gigs so if you're at a city Louis has been before, those places are most likely the ones you'll find. If not, there's still some hotspots in countries he's never visited so keep an eye out.

#put it under a read more because it'll get long #feel free to send the info of your local hotspots to be added #spain anon if you'd like to give me the time thats missing or anyone else knows

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theguineapig3 · 6 months ago

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Last November, I overslept and had to hurry to work without a proper breakfast (always eat breakfast, kids), so after dropping off the time sensitive documents to my supervisor's office-which is in a building across a large highway from my own- I decided to see if the cafe in the strip mall in front of my own office was open so that I could buy myself a breakfast sandwich on the way. I accidentally hit "directions" on my phone app, and was shocked by the result- an HOUR just to cross the street? I know the traffic light at that intersection is bad, but it's not THAT bad-

And then I realized

the directions were set to "walk"

my app was finding me the closest safe place to cross the street

which was nearly a 30 minute walk away

Even when the locations are close enough to each other to hypothetically be walkable*, they might not be walkable in practice because it isn't SAFE for pedestrians. It's not designed to be safe for pedestrians. That would slow down the cars, after all.

*I'm disabled and use a mobility aid, so what's "walkable" for someone else still might not be "walkable" for me. Even so, public transportation is another huge aspect of walkability that isn't available in the US either.

“America IS walkable, you’re all just lazy” my childhood home was an hour from the nearest hospital (by car)

#long post #many rural areas in other countries aren't walkable either because of the distance #but medium and even large cities in the US don't even try #a few years back my mom and I went to visit my brother in raleigh and got stuck in traffic on i-40 #i-40 around the triangle area is a special kind of hell #and she went on a full rant about how politicians refuse to invest in public transportation #while I cheered

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huggybearhughes43 · 6 months ago

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anything quinny based on the song 'more hearts than mine' ?

More hearts than mine

Quinn Hughes x Fem! Reader

Warnings- FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

Summary- Quinn’s nervous about meeting readers family in her home town

Word count- 1.3k

I can't wait to show you where I grew up

Walk you 'round the foothills of my town

Probably feel like you've been there before

After hearing all the stories I've been telling you

For six months now

Quinn Hughes is the man I’ve been talking to my family about non stop since I met him. We’d been dating for six months and since he has a game there tomorrow, I’ve convinced him to meet my family back in Raleigh. He’s been wandering around my apartment in circles for an hour, trying to talk himself up. In a way I thought it was cute how nervous he was. I reassured them that no matter what they were going to love him but no matter what I said it didn’t help.

Ever since the day we met I’ve been telling him stories from back home. How my friends from high school tease me at every given moment, how my sister flies to Vancouver every summer to visit, how my parents cook a feast every time someone visits no matter who. He knows basically every detail of my childhood, every friend, every ex, every enemy. He knows all of it. He knows the road I grew up on, the house that my parents still live in. Quinn knows about the swimming hole I used to swim in every summer and he knows about the time I started crying because a fish touched me. Which to this day, my family still jokes me for.

For me, I was deathly excited to show him where I grew up. I wanted to show him every road I rode my bike down, show him the places I’d sneak out to with my sisters. And more than anything I was excited to introduce him to my little sisters, the same little sister who have been gawking since they found out I’m dating a famous hockey player. I know my dad will like him, they share the same interest in boating. The second Quinn brought up his lake house my dad would be all in. Then my mom? Well, Quinn’s planning to buy her flowers which will win her over instantly.

We'll probably have to sleep in separate bedrooms

Pack a shirt for church because we'll go

I'm not trying to scare you off but

I just thought that we should talk a few things out

Before we hit the road

Even with my sister’s husband, our parents make them sleep in two separate rooms. My ma says she doesn’t want anything more than a single peck under the roof of her home. Ma thinks that gods watching her and her children in everything we do. It’s sweet and I’d understand for boyfriends but husbands are a bit of a stretch, the thought makes me laugh. On Sunday mornings Ma and Pa wake us up at eight, she says it’s the lords day so we must look the best for him.

I sit Quinn down before we go to bed, his hands are practically shaking. I laugh and press a reassuring kiss to his lips. “Ma will want you to go to church on Sunday, Sunday is the day where no one can curse, argue, or even look at someone the wrong way. I packed an outfit for church in your bag just in case you forgot.” I run a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, I promise.”. We go to bed early that night, preparing for the flight with his team early in the morning. Quinn finally settles down, his face cuddled into my chest as I scratch his head with one hand and his back with the other.

If I bring you home to mama

I guess I'd better warn ya

She falls in love a little faster than I do

And my dad will check your tires

Pour you whiskey over ice and

Take you fishing but pretend that he don't like you

Oh, if we break up, I'll be fine

But you'll be breaking more hearts than mine

In the morning as we get ready I remind him that the second he brings my mom flowers that she’ll practically fall in love with him. I tell him that just because he won’t have his car with him doesn’t mean my dad won’t ask for pictures, he’ll nit pick details on it but he means well. My dad will try to get him drunk, ask him details to make sure he has a clear intent with me as his girlfriend. I remind him to act like he likes fishing even though I know he doesn’t, my dad will make him fish until he likes it. I don’t tell him all of my thoughts, though. I don’t tell him that after this trip if we were to break up, he’d break my families hearts as well.

The plane ride goes well but the nervousness got back to his system in the car ride over to my parents home. I hold his hand in mine, reminding him what I’ve told him over and over. My younger sister rings my phone and I answer. The FaceTime showing her and my other little sister. They cheer when they see me in the car and explain that my Ma and Pa are so excited to meet Quinn. They also complain about how my mom made them clean the house for him. One complains specifically that she never cares for the house to be clean when her husband visits from the army.

My sister's gonna ask a million questions

Say anything she can to turn you red

And when you meet my high school friends

They'll buy you drinks and fill you in

On all the crazy nights I can't outlive

The second Quinn and I walk through the door, my sisters run up to him and start asking questions non stop. “What’s it like being famous” and “you better win against the Hurricanes tomorrow” were my favorites, made me laugh a bit. My youngest sister, at the ripe age of twelve tells Quinn he’s the most attractive Hughes brother, no shame and just a huge grin on her face. Quinn coughs and stutters out a ‘thanks’ before staring at me wide eyed. Ma and Pa run to the door and tell my sisters to give him space. Quinn was thankful for it and cheesily smiled at he handed her the roses. Ma gawks and tells me I found a good one before she runs off to find a vase to put the flowers in, my dad introduces himself then follows short after.

Ma invited a few of my high school friends over for the day, wanting me to catch up with them. My face turned to a neat red the second they walked in. Quinn finally cracks a laugh as they sit down and start telling the most embarrassing stories about me. They tell him about the time I tripped and fell in the middle of the lunch room and had to walk around school with a huge spaghetti stain on my shirt for the rest of the day. They also tell him about how I used to bribe the jrotc kids to be disrespectful to their instructors for pure entertainment

Pa grilled steak for supper, Quinn says it’s the best he’s ever had. My dad congratulated himself for that. Ma breaks the saddening news that we’d be sleeping in different rooms, at least until my sister’s husband gets here. I silently laugh at the way my sister whines, knowing Ma never trusted her husband because he doesn’t believe in the lord. Quinn and I stand at my childhood bedroom door as we bid goodnight. “I told you they’d love you.” “I know, baby.” He kisses me goodnight. We both say goodnight and he leaves to his room.

What I don’t tell him is that if we break up, it wouldn’t only be my heart broken, it would be more hearts broken than mine.

#smut #hockey smut #nhl #umich hockey #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 2 years ago

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a/n: this one actively broke my heart while writing it and i hope i did the topic justice. title came from a song on @pyotrkochetkov ‘s barzy playlist and i just knew i had to write something angsty for it. a bunch more happy and smutty long fics and headcanons are coming! seriously, let me know what you thought of this one - much heavier and angstier than i usually write 😬 ignore any inconsistencies, i’m not an expert on this particular medical procedure or professional hockey team travel

word count: 7k

tw: miscarriage, subsequent emotions

summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal

Vancouver is a fun city - maybe not as fun as Raleigh or New York, but fun nevertheless - and you’re excited that part of the Canes’ Western road trip fell close to Thanksgiving weekend so you could join in for a bit of it without having to miss too much time at work. Part of your goal this season, your first married to Andrei, is to see him play in every arena. You’ve managed a few of the east coast arenas so far, but this is your first time out west. Nykki joined you too, so it’s like a mini-girls’ trip rolled into a ‘supporting our men’ trip.

The team’s there before you and Nykki get to Vancouver, having already played in Seattle two days before. It’s actually been slightly more than a week since you’ve seen Andrei in person and you miss him a lot. You’ve been with him for four years now, so you’re used to the travel and not seeing him for chunks of time, but this week feels extra hard. Luckily, after this little West Coast swing, Andrei will be home for a good chunk of time - the quirks of the NHL schedule are always insane to you.

You and Nykki get dinner before the game, discussing her wedding plans. It’s scheduled for early August, but time is already flying. You’re a bridesmaid, but you’ve been pushing off picking a dress, knowing that it’s not going to fit you by the time the wedding happens. Your fingers curl carefully against your stomach, hidden by the table and the bulk of your sweater, your little secret.

Butterflies roll in your stomach, excitement mingling with nerves, knowing that you’re going to tell Andrei the news after the game tonight. It’s so early in your marriage, and you’re definitely freaking out a little bit, but the idea of a little baby that looks like Andrei is enough to help the excitement win out.

“Martin wants to do Bali for the honeymoon,” Nykki tells you while you find your way to your seats. You bought tickets for the lower bowl, wanting to be in the middle of the crowd and all the excitement. The Canucks fans are already a little rowdy, with warmups halfway over. There’s a few Canes jerseys smattered through the crowd, but it’s certainly an uneven match.

You sip at your overly large Coke, your stomach turning a little. Dinner isn’t sitting right with you, but it’s manageable for now. “Bali’s nice, I mean, so I’ve heard. But what’s the weather like in August?”

Nykki points at you, her other fingers wrapped around her beer can. “That’s what I said! I thought it would be unbearably hot and humid, but apparently it’s gorgeous - 86 and barely any rain,” she grins. “I promised he could be in charge of the honeymoon, so I think we’re going to Bali.”

“Well,” you smirk back, “there are worse places to spend two weeks with your gorgeous NHL player husband, Nyk.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her beer, eyes twinkling. “You have a point there. How about you and Andrei? What are the big summer vacation plans?”

You pause, thinking of an answer because you’re anticipating having a newborn this summer, so a vacation isn’t likely to happen. Andrei’s been floating the idea of a mini European tour - hitting Rome and Paris for a few days each before heading to Russia for a little bit to visit family. But you haven’t really committed to plans since it’s only November and you have plenty of time. “We haven’t really talked about it,” you answer Nykki truthfully. “Drei’s been focused on the season and I’ve been busy with work. He doesn’t like to plan anything before the end of the regular season anyway.”

“Superstition,” Nykki sing-songs, putting her beer in the cup holder as she stands for the anthems. You get to your feet, pulling off your baseball hat and holding it over your heart, humming along with both anthems. You shift your weight from foot to foot, stretching out your lower back a little.

The puck drops and the game starts - Andrei’s almost immediately put in the penalty box, complaining and shouting at the ref the entire time he skates over. His hands fly in the air as he gestures, but his passion isn’t moving the ref at all and he takes his seat in the box, slumping down. You laugh, shaking your head affectionately. He’s a sweetheart off-ice, but on the ice, Andrei is a borderline criminal. He’s leading the team in penalty minutes and you’ve definitely heard plenty about how he doesn’t deserve it.

The game clock ticks down, Andrei’s released from the box and immediately scores on a breakaway. You and Nykki jump from your seats, screaming and cheering with the Canes up one to nothing. The Vancouver fans around you glare and chirp, but you and Nykki just laugh, giving back as good as you get.

It’s pure fun to be supporting the visiting team and you and Nykki thoroughly enjoy yourselves, dancing to the music and gossiping during TV timeouts and slower moments. Nykki gets another beer and you refill your soda, your stomach still acting up. The popcorn Nykki gets is too salty and you end up joining the crowd when they start throwing their own snacks at the refs. It’s a penalty called on the Canucks, which is good news for you, but the crowds enthusiasm is infectious.

The fans of the Canadian teams are definitely a little more intense and vocal with their displeasure with the refs, you’ve noticed. A particularly obscene chant breaks out when Brady dances around one of the Canucks’ defensemen to set up a powerplay goal for Brent Burns.

You and Nykki throw your arms up and cheer, screaming yourselves silly. Your stomach cramps a little and it puts a damper on the celebration and also serves as a reminder that you really need to see a GI doctor to determine if you’re actually lactose intolerant or if you have a gluten allergy. You grimace and sit back down, clenching your stomach a little, which seems to help. The rest of the second period flies by and the boys are up two to one.

The people around you start to shuffle off to get more food or go to the bathroom, now that the second intermission has started. You finish the rest of your soda and shift in your seat. Nykki looks over at you curiously. “You okay? You seem like you’re kind of uncomfortable,” she says, twisting her hair back into a ponytail.

“I’m fine,” you hum. “My back is killing me though. I must’ve tweaked it on the flight over.”

“You want an Advil?” Nykki’s already shaking around her purse and you can hear things rattling around.

“Let me go refill my drink, pee, and then yeah, I’ll take an Advil,” you reply, holding the reusable cup to your chest and getting out of your seat. Nykki pulls her knees to the side and you scoot past her, stopping when she makes a little noise. “What?”

“Babe, I think you need a tampon too,” she whispers, gesturing to the back of your jeans.

Your eyebrows draw together. You’re not getting your period anymore. “Tamp-?” The word catches in your throat and your eyes go wide. Your mind spins as the pieces start clicking into place and, as if to serve as the final kick in the ass sign, your lower stomach twists unpleasantly with a sharp cramp. Tears fill your eyes and you reach down to grab Nykki’s hand. “Um, surprise, I’m pregnant, but maybe see should go to the hospital or an urgent care?”

Half a dozen emotions cross Nykki’s face before it settles on shock, but all you can focus on now is the persistent cramping in your stomach. The cramping that’s been bothering you all day and you ignored, thinking nothing of it. God, you’re a terrible mother already.

“Okay, okay,” Nykki jumps to her feet, squeezing your fingers and dragging you out of the row and up the stairs to the main concourse. Her other hand is gripping her phone tightly and she’s jabbing at it with her thumb. “I’m calling an Uber. The hospital is like a ten minute drive.”

You nod, feeling numb as Nykki drags you along, your feet stumbling to keep up as you dart around the people waiting in lines for the bathroom and for food. How could your whole night - your whole life - have just taken a complete one-eighty in the matter of minutes. The cold Vancouver air hits your face like a slap, shocking some feeling back into your body. You wish it hadn’t.

The cramping is worse, the feeling between your legs - blood - like free bleeding during your period, but worse, so much worse.

Your stomach lurches and you rip your hand from Nykki’s grasp, bending at the waist and vomiting into a bush next to the entrance to the arena. “Oh, it’s going to be okay. Let it out,” Nykki’s voice is soothing and she rubs a hand in between your shoulder blades while your stomach seizes and you vomit again, spitting into the dirt.

Tears streak down your cheeks and your throat burns now. “I want Andrei,” you whisper, heart clenching with grief.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Nykki guides you towards the rideshare pick-up area, where a four-door sedan is already waiting. “I’ll get a hold of him somehow, but let’s take care of you first, okay?”

You let her bundle you into the backseat of the car and swallow back your tears, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see starbursts. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you try to calm down, you don’t know what’s happening for sure. Even though it feels very much like the end of something, you have to find a little piece of hope to keep yourself sane. The driver catches your eye in the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the arena parking lot, his mouth twisted down in a concerned frown even as his eyes are slightly judgmental. He’s driving you from a hockey game to a hospital - god knows what he’s thinking about you.

Nykki squeezes your knee and smiles gently at you, even as she’s typing on her phone with her other hand. “It’s still intermission, no one’s going to have their phone on them, but I’m trying to see if I can get through to one of the trainers or something. Just stay calm and we’ll figure it out,” she’s no-nonsense and you’re so grateful for her taking control of the situation.

Your lower back complains as the driver hits a pothole and another leak of fluid rushes between your legs. The drive is too long and too short all at once and before you know it, you’re being admitted to the Vancouver General Hospital emergency room and deposited on a bed, a curtain drawn around you. A nurse with warm, sympathetic eyes and a kind smile does your intake, her lips twisting to to side as you’re answering her questions.

“I just found out a few days ago,” you whisper, starting your fingers together. “I haven’t even told my husband.”

“Mrs. Svechnikov,” the nurse pats your arm comfortingly, “we really don’t know anything for sure until we get an ultrasound. Try not to put added stress on your body.”

You don’t even bother correcting her about your last name, the Russian name sounding strange in her Canadian accent. Nykki comes behind the curtain, clutching her phone. “There’s about ten minutes left in the third,” she says. “I can’t get ahold of anyone, but I’ll keep trying.”

“We’re going to get an OB down here and check everything out, okay?” The nurse says kindly, but brusquely, and then disappears back into the main emergency room. You roll your neck so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and a few tears leak out of your eyes.

“You didn’t leave any messages or anything for Andrei, right?” You ask. “I don’t want him to see and freak out.”

Nykki brushes your hair off your forehead and shakes her head. “No, I left a few messages for Martin to call me as soon as he could. I figure I’ll get to Andrei that way. Do you need anything?”

“Just Andrei,” you hiccup a sob, pressing a shaking hand to your mouth. Your other hand hovers over your stomach, afraid to touch it. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, so despite what the nurse said, you know it’s a miscarriage. Your stomach rolls and you press your lips together tightly so you don’t vomit.

“I’ll get him here as fast as I can,” Nykki reassures you. While you wait for the OB, she absently braids your hair back from your face, tying it off in an efficient, utilitarian French braid down your back. She talks as she works, trying to distract you, and you’re grateful for her efforts even if they don’t work. All you can think about is the little life that had been growing in you just a few hours ago. Your heart lurches painfully when you realize Andrei’s going to find out about the pregnancy and the loss all at once.

The OB is a middle-aged Black woman with a slight Canadian accent who introduces herself as Doctor Hayes and she doesn’t sugarcoat the news, which you appreciate. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Svechnikov,” she sighs, looking very much like she hates this part of her job. “But you are actively miscarrying right now. We’re going to admit you overnight for monitoring and will reevaluate in the morning.”

Your entire body goes cold at her words and you grip Nykki’s hand - you hadn’t let her leave your side, terrified to be alone. A cramp rips through your lower body and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. “What-“ your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat, trying again, “what, um, are the next steps?”

Doctor Hayes rests her hands on the guard railing on your bed. “Well, we’ll have you on a hydration IV throughout the night while we monitor the miscarriage. There may be a need for a D and C, to make sure it’s complete and there’s no tissue left behind.” Your face blanches as she talks. “But all of that will depend on what happens tonight.”

“Thank you,” you murmur and she pats your hand gently, sympathetically, as she leaves. You can hear her giving the nurse instructions and you slump back against the pillows, completely drained.

Nykki checks her Apple Watch and grimaces. “It’s Martin. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Be gentle with Andrei, okay?” You reply, desperately wanting him at your side, but also wanting to protect him from this heartbreak a little longer.

She’s back in a few minutes, after the nurse has started you on an IV. “Martin’s going to bring him over,” she says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t tell him why you were here, just that you started to not feel well during the second,” she says. “It sounded like Andrei was halfway out the door before Martin could finish his sentence.”

You nod faintly. That sounds like Andrei. “I hope they don’t get slammed by Rod for leaving…” You twist your wedding rings around your finger, the diamonds catching the fluorescent lighting.

“They won’t,” Nykki says firmly. “He’d have to be a real bastard to punish Andrei for coming to the hospital for you. Besides, someone should’ve been available to get Andrei here earlier! It’s ridiculous.”

“Let him have an extra hour of normalcy,” you sigh, shifting on the bed, sore and uncomfortable.

You’re moved into a private room and given a hospital gown that bares your entire back and ass. A giant pad that’s probably as big as a damn puppy pee pad is wedged in between your legs to contain the bleeding and the IV is tugging unpleasantly at your skin. Nykki’s waiting downstairs to bring Andrei directly to you and you hope he’s here soon because now that you’re alone, the reality of the situation is sinking in and your chest is starting to feel tight. You turn your head and try to bury your face in the pillow, but you catch a whiff of the lingering Tom Ford Lost Cherry perfume you’d applied earlier mixed with antiseptic and sterile hospital smell and your brain briefly registers that it’s a shame, because you really love this perfume and now you’ll never be able to wear it again. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest, a reminder that you’re losing more and more of your baby with each passing second.

You hear him before you see him, the pounding of his footsteps echoing through the hallways. He’s running down the hall, that much is clear, and when you look over at the door, you catch the blur of Andrei skipping completely past your room before he doubles back and skids to a stop in the doorway.

He looks terrible - hair still damp with sweat, the red mark across his forehead from his helmet is still prominent, and he looks like he got dressed in the dark - or an extreme hurry - in a pair of basketball shorts and his button down with the buttons done up all wrong. But it’s the look of complete panic in his eyes that scares you the most. Andrei never looks that panicked.

“Solnyshka,” he breathes, his shoulders dropping from around his ears. In three long strides he’s at your side, holding your hand, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

“Hi,” you whisper before bursting into tears.

“Hi,” he replies softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His grip is almost painful, but you welcome it as you hiccup. “What’s going on, solnyshka?”

Insanely, the only words that come out of your mouth are, “your shirt is buttoned wrong.”

Andrei looks surprised, “what?” he asks absently as his gaze flickers down to his shirt. He shakes his head, “I rush. Solnyshka,” his voice is high and nervous, “what is going on? Neci didn’t know anything. Just that you’re here, in hospital.”

“I…Andrei, I’m so sorry,” the words rush out of your mouth on a flood of fresh tears. “I was pregnant and now I’m not. I lost the baby.”

You’re not even sure if Andrei can even understand you, you’re crying so hard. But one glance at his face and the completely shattered expression it wears, and you know he understood you. His fingers tighten around yours and he’s shaking his head, hair falling forward over his forehead.

“What? I don’t - a baby?” He rubs at his forehead with his other hand, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “When did you - why didn’t -“

He can’t seem to get a full sentence out and it only makes you cry harder, your entire body hurting with the effort. You know what he’s asking though.

“Last week,” you manage. “The day after you left. I was going to tell you tonight, but…” You trail off, shrugging one shoulder.

Andrei’s head hangs, chin to chest, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The worst of your tears are drying up and you shake your head. “It’s not…I had Nyk. I hate that you had to find out like this. Baby and then no baby, all at once,” your voice cracks and you trace the little embroidered A.S. on his cuff, barely able to look at him.

Your husband sighs and drops his head so he can rest his forehead against yours. He smells like sweat and fear and Old Spice and your throat clogs with emotion again. “I thought…” he breathes. “I hear hospital and I think the worst. I thought the worst.”

This is the worst, you think. The worst possible thing. But you know what he means, that he thought something even more awful had happened to you, that he was worried he lost you because he didn’t know there was something else to lose.

Andrei’s lips brush against your cheek, soft and delicate, the rasp of his stubble a stark contrast. You sit like that, foreheads touching, for who knows how long. Andrei doesn’t cry, but his chest hitches and you think he might, maybe, when it all sinks in. You’re all cried out and now there’s just bone-deep exhaustion.

“i’m tired,” you murmur, the words getting lost between you.

Andrei nods against your forehead and pulls back, looking like it takes him a huge effort to sit back up. He cups your cheek and his thumb strokes a careful arc over your cheekbone. You lean into the familiar gesture, comforted. “Sleep, okay? I’ll…I have to call Rod. Get my stuff. I’ll take care of everything,” his voice is steady, but his eyes are clouded.

You nod, your eyelids already closing. Andrei gets up and brushes his lips over your forehead, murmuring that he loves you. Once he’s outside the room, you can hear him talking quietly to Nykki and Martin, but your grief and exhaustion pull you under before you can really concentrate on what he’s saying.

Sleep doesn’t last and you’re awake again after a few hours. You blink awake blearily, confused for a second before everything comes rushing back. Andrei’s scrunched up in a chair in the corner, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, eyes shut. He changed in the time since he left, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His legs are kicked out in front of him, a pair of white sneakers on his feet. You don’t want to wake him, but when you shift, a sharp pain pierces your side and you gasp loudly before biting down hard on your tongue to muffle the noise. It doesn’t work and Andrei’s eyes fly open, his entire body jerking.

“Hey,” he’s at your side in a second, “what hurts? I call a nurse?” His accent is thick with sleep and worry.

You shake your head, the pain subsiding. “I’m fine.” And you are, the worst of the cramps are gone, leaving just a vague soreness and uncomfortable tightness in your chest and stomach. “You should’ve gone back to the hotel.”

“And leave you?” Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy. He shakes his head. “I got my bag and Nykki brought yours back. Do you want anything?”

“No,” you reach for his hand and lace your fingers together. “I just want to go home.”

He nods, looking exhausted. “Me too. I spoke to Rod, if you’re discharged later today then you come with us on the plane. If not, I stay and come home with you when you’re ready,” his lips quirk up at the corner when you start to protest. “Is decided, solnyshka. I’m not leaving your side.”

“But…” you trail off, all the arguments that you can think of fading when you realize that you don’t want to be separated from Andrei, not right now. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Good,” he chuckles under his breath. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“No arguments from me,” you reply dryly, rolling your head so your cheek is on the pillow and you can look directly at him. “Why don’t you try and sleep some more? I’m not going anywhere.”

His jaw tightens a bit. “Can’t sleep,” he replies, even though you had just seen him asleep. “If the doctor comes, I want to be awake.”

You nod again, sore and tired, and Andrei just sits with you quietly for a while before you think to ask, “how was the game?”

He snorts. “We won, but who cares?” It’s such an unexpected answer - Andrei’s never not cared about winning a game - and it startles you into silence.

A nurse comes in a few minutes later, saving you from having to find an answer. She introduces herself as Kayla and speaks in a soft, but firm tone. You’re starting to recognize the undercurrent of apology and sympathy in the nurses and doctors’ tones and you’re beginning to hate it. Andrei doesn’t let go of your hand while she checks your vitals and puts another bag of saline on the IV pole. “The OB will be in soon to do another ultrasound and see if you need a D and C,” Kayla says gently. “But everything else looks good. You won’t be staying another night and I would guess that you’ll be out of here by early afternoon at the latest, either way.”

You nod robotically, not really absorbing what she’s saying. By this afternoon, everything will be over and you’ll for sure, 100% not be pregnant anymore. It’s a gut punch, even though you knew this was coming. Andrei asks the nurse a few more questions before she leaves, but you don’t really listen, focusing on a small stain on a ceiling tile. It looks like nothing at all, just a blob of brown, but the more you stare at it, the more your vision unfocuses, the more it starts to look like one of those stereotypical ultrasound blobs.

You don’t even realize that you’re crying again until Andrei wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Try and sleep again,” he murmurs, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I think you’ll need strength.”

“Can you get me some water?” You ask, running your hands over the braid Nykki had done. It’s so messy and it feels like she fixed it a million years ago, but it was only four or five hours. It feels like another lifetime, sitting in the arena and joking around with her. From halfway through second intermission to a hospital room at 2 a.m. Certainly not how you were picturing the end of your trip to Vancouver.

You think you must fall asleep again because the next thing you know, there’s sun coming through the window and Andrei’s at your side again, his large hand resting on the top of your head, cradling the crown. Unfamiliar doctors and nurses are in the room and they all speak to you and Andrei, but the only words you hear are “incomplete miscarriage” and “quick procedure” before you’re being shuffled off to an operating room. It all happens too fast for you to even be scared and the last thing you remember before the anesthesia is Andrei by your ear, whispering in Russian to you, the spicy scent of his deodorant filling your senses.

Andrei’s there again, when you wake up, eyes looking red and face drawn. You’re barely conscious, but the sigh of relief he exhales permeates the fog. His hand is warm in yours and you manage a weak smile at him. “Hey there handsome,” you croak and he laughs weakly. “Miss me?”

“You…” Andrei coughs, “I love you very much.”

“Love you,” your words slur a bit. “I wanna go home.”

“Soon, solnyshka,” Andrei promises, stroking your hair. “Soon.” He’s still stroking your hair when you fall asleep again.

When you wake up again, the overwhelming sense of emptiness is what you notice first. Then Andrei comes into focus again, his weight of his head resting on your leg, his hand on your hip. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not, but you gently run your fingers through his hair and he looks over at you, shifting.

“Hi,” he murmurs, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi,” you rasp back, fingers still working through his hair.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore, tired,” you hesitate, “empty.”

“Yeah,” Andrei’s reply is barely an exhale. “Doctor said we can go, once they give you the all-clear.”

You nod, chewing at your lower lip. “Andrei,” you choke his name, the words coming out like broken glass, “we don’t have a baby anymore.”

“I know,” Andrei replies simply, sitting up all the way and leaning forward to gather you into his arms. You go to him easily, moving carefully and ignoring the pull of your protesting muscles, and bury your face against his chest. He’s in the same black t-shirt and he smells stale now, like he needs a shower desperately, but under that he just smells like Andrei, like home, and you cry into his chest, the fabric growing wet under your face. He just holds you, his arms a strong cage around your back, his hands running up and down your back. Everything in your body hurts, but nothing more than your heart.

Throughout the next few hours, when you’re given a clean bill of health, instructions to take it easy and abstain from sex or using a tampon for three weeks, and discharged, Andrei is a rock. He’s right at your side, helping you get dressed in the soft joggers you were using as pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. He laces up your sneakers for you and carries all the bags out to the waiting Uber. You were discharged in time to make the team flight home, but after hearing Andrei on the phone before the doctor came in for your exam, you kind of suspect that he may have pressed Rod to change the travel plans. You can’t even start to think about what he’s done for you, exhaustion seeping to your bones.

No one says anything to you when Andrei ushers you onto the plane, but Neci gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand when you walk past him. You return the smile, feeling awful that Nykki has to fly home on her own. She’s been texting, checking in on you, and you haven’t answered yet, too distracted to deal with even holding your phone. Andrei bundles you into a seat near the back of the plane and wraps his jacket around you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Try and sleep, long flight. I have the pain pills, if you need, okay?”

You nod against his shoulder and wrap his jacket tighter around your body, tucking your hands up into the sleeves. Andrei rests his palm on your knee and before the plane even takes off, you’re asleep.

It’s a long flight back to Raleigh and you don’t sleep the entire way, but after a solid three hour nap, you wake up feeling better. Andrei’s asleep when you wake up, his head dropped back against the headrest, his mouth open slightly. He finally looks relaxed and peaceful and you’re grateful, so grateful, for him.

Your whole body still hurts, but your legs are starting the cramp up, so you carefully shimmy out of your seat to stretch in the aisle. Brady and Jarvy wave at you from a few rows up and you wave back, wondering what they know, if they know anything. No one really tries to talk to you, so you assume Andrei told them that you had some kind of medical emergency. Legs feeling better, you settle back into your seat, finally pulling out your phone and connecting to the in-flight wifi so you can text Nykki.

She reassures you that none of the other guys know what happened and that if you need anything when you’re back in Raleigh to let her know. You’re blessed to have such a good friend in her and you thank her, thinking that maybe in a few days you’ll see if she’ll bring Gigi over for some puppy cuddles.

Andrei wakes up about and hour before you land and he gulps back half of a water bottle before he even says anything. Then he tips his head close to yours and whispers, “how are you feeling? Any pain?”

“No,” you whisper back, “I’m okay. Just sore. It’s like being drained after a really bad period. I feel better after my nap.”

“Good,” he pushes the half-empty water bottle into your hands. “Drink.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, the moment of lightness making you feel a little better. You sip at it slowly, starting to get a little nauseous. Andrei wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him, drawing comfort from his solid warmth.

When you land, Andrei guides you off the plane, his palm reassuring against your lower back. It’s easy to let him take the lead and to not think about anything. He’s got both of your bags and you don’t even put up a fuss when he refuses to let you carry even your purse. You’re just too tired.

Andrei’s car is parked fairly close and you don’t have to walk very far. You lower yourself into the front seat of the Lamborghini, muttering, “I hate this car.” Your stomach gives a protest of pain from having to climb into the car.

“I know,” Andrei laughs a little, loosening up. His string of ugly sports cars is a long running topic of conversation. The last one was orange, the one before that a strange green. This one is electric purple and it’s hideous. His terrible taste in car colors is his only red flag. “Next one will be red.”

“Why couldn’t this one have been red?” You ask, breathing deeply to stave off the nausea. You sink back against the seat and Andrei pulls out of the parking spot. He’s driving must slower than usual and is taking extreme care with navigating the roads.

“This one was only 75 made,” he explains again. “It’s a collectors item.”

“It’s still ugly,” you tease, a smile playing at your lips.

He reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I love you so much, moya solnyshka, and I’m so…proud of your strength.”

Andrei doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his voice gets thick and he swallows roughly. He continues, “it hurts to know there would’ve been a baby in the summer.” So he did the math, you think. “But, this is maybe the wrong thing to say, but I’m glad I didn’t know before.”

It’s not really the right thing to say to you in the moment, but you can’t blame him. You sniff and nod. “I know. I almost wish I hadn’t known either. It was only a week, but I was so attached to…to the idea of our baby.”

“When you’re ready,” Andrei says slowly, turning to look at you while you’re stopped at a red light, “you tell me and I’ll give you a baby. When you’re ready.”

You nod, unable to even think about trying for a baby right now, but Andrei’s words and his earnest expression make your heart melt. You love him so, so much. “When I’m ready,” you repeat, squeezing his fingers.

When you get home, Andrei runs you a shower and joins you after a minute, soaping up your hair and scrubbing down your body gently. You don’t speak while he works and his touch is nothing but chaste. He’s careful around your stomach and between your legs, impossibly gentle with those huge hands of his. You stand under the spray while he gives his own body and hair a quick wash, the heat of the shower starting to make you a little lightheaded. Right before it gets to the point where you think you’re going to have to say something, Andrei flips the water off and reaches out of the stall for a huge, fluffy towel, wrapping you up in it and rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. He grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist, gripping your elbow and guiding you back to the bedroom.

You rummage in his drawers for oversized clothes, not wanting anything constrictive on your body. Once you’re comfortable in an old pair of Andrei’s grey sweats and a threadbare Duke t-shirt, you crawl under the covers and curl up on your side. “Join me?” You ask, looking up at Andrei. He nods, silently climbing into bed behind you and gently scooting you closer to him. The warmth of his body is comforting against your back and he wraps his arms loosely under your breasts, avoiding your stomach. Andrei buried his face in your hair and you let a few silent tears leak out of your eyes.

What did you do to deserve this wonderful man?

With Andrei’s arms around you and your heart heavy in your chest, you fall asleep again, but it’s unsatisfying. After a few hours, you need food even though you’re still nauseous. Andrei makes himself a sandwich and warms up a can of chicken soup for you and you eat in bed, a rerun of The Nanny on TV. Andrei doesn’t really get the show - the humor is too specific - but he does like to point out all the outfits that Fran wear and he thinks you can pull off. It’s a nice distraction.

You take the next few days off of work, just to recover, but Andrei isn’t as lucky. You’re mostly fine physically except some lingering soreness, most of your problems are mental. After talking about it on the way home, neither you not Andrei has really brought up the miscarriage.

Two days after the miscarriage, the team is playing at home and Andrei’s right there in the middle of it all. You don’t watch the game, still too raw to watch hockey after what happened in Vancouver, so it’s a little shocking when he comes home with a blackened right eye and a cut across his nose and part of his cheek. “What happened?” You yelp upon seeing him, getting carefully to your feet and reaching up to lightly touch the side of his face.

Andrei grunts. “Distracted, got hit,” he winces when he moves his face.

You feel awful, knowing he was distracted because he was worrying about you. “Luckily it didn’t need stitches,” you say softly. “Can’t have anything ruining that pretty face,” you tease him lightly.

He gives you a tight smile and his gaze flickers down to your stomach, covered in an oversized sweatshirt. You catch his look and brush your thumb over the edge of his jaw. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much,” you say. “I’m tough. I’m strong.”

“I know,” Andrei sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates, wanting to say more, and you wait. “At the game,” he says slowly, “Burnsie, Staalsy, they had their kids there. I couldn’t help…I was picturing…”

Oh.

Your heart cracks right over the scabs that had been forming the past two days and fresh pain floods your veins. “Drei…” you’re not even sure what to say to him. You knew he was sad, but you hadn’t really thought about how deep his feelings went.

He smiles sadly at you. “Today, it hit me,” he says, twisting his lips. “We lost a baby.”

“Yeah,” you reply, throat tight. “We did.”

Andrei pulls you close, twisting his hand in the end of your ponytail. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt like this, when I didn’t even know for very long,” he murmurs and you can feel a few tears drip onto the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his waist tighter.

“I don’t think that matters,” you mumble. “It hurts no matter how long you knew about it.”

You can feel Andrei’s head turn, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. You just stand there in his arms, holding tightly to the only other person that’s feeling the same pain as you. The longer Andrei holds you, the more you feel your fragile heart mending itself, the steady beat of his heart a constant under your cheek.

After that, things slowly start getting back to normal. You’re physically healed and cleared to resume normal activities. Andrei’s not so distracted during games. You can go hours, days without thinking about the baby that’s gone.

Andrei mentions it, off-hand, about a month after you get home from Vancouver, after he’s back from another quick road trip. “We could’ve been telling our families about the baby at Christmas,” he’s clearly been thinking about it.

You nod, a little startled by his comment. “Probably, yeah. Or we would’ve told them already, too excited to keep a secret,” you smile a little to yourself, thinking about how Andrei almost spoiled his proposal twice before he actually popped the question because he was so excited.

He grins at you, dimple popping, and pushes a slim box across the table at you. “Early Christmas present,” he says, answering your unasked question.

Looking at him suspiciously, you pop the lid on the jewelry box, finding a thin gold chain bracelet with two delicate charms on it - the common blue and white Greek mati to ward off the evil eye and a little horizontal cross attached at each end to the chain. You trace your fingers over the chain and look up at Andrei.

“A little luck?” He says, lifting one shoulder. “I saw it in a store window, in Long Island, before we played. Made me think of you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, getting out of your seat to kiss him softly. You trace your tongue over his lower lip and desire stirs in your stomach, something foreign after the last few weeks, but oh so familiar. You’re not quite ready to have sex yet, but it’s a good reminder that you will one day soon. “It’s perfect.” You hold out your wrist and Andrei clasps the bracelet on.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, reminding you of the promise he made in the car.

“Whenever I’m ready,” you repeat, crawling onto his lap and letting him hold you. The thought of getting pregnant again doesn’t make your chest feel quite as tight anymore, doesn’t get the panic alarms ringing in your head. Andrei’s been so patient and gentle, making everything just a little bit easier to bear.

Every day just reminds you that as long as Andrei’s by your side, you can handle anything life throws at you.

He kisses the side of your head and holds you close, chasing the shadows of grief away.

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