#all boston teams really

[the-physicality]

i don't think there is anything as overdiscussed on the reddit as team names and logos

[youwillfindilluminating]

if the bruins don’t do the thing that we all want them to do this year, I might actually throw up about it. like crying puking for real for real. please be gentle with me in the coming weeks. 🥺

[starscelly]

hm .

[milo-is-rambling]

Don’t get high and then watch the only team you care about lose

[becca-alexa]

so my manager told me i need to start going into the office three days a week

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! heard the released “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” (which i’ve seen you’ve heard live, if i’m not mistaken!!) this morning and i don’t know if there’s really a particular vibe/dynamic/ship hrpf-wise (personally haven’t yet been able to put my finger on it) that quite relates but the lyrics have been rotating in my head all day and i was wondering if you had any thoughts? hope you have a good one! <3

OH ANON HAVE I EVER SEEN IT LIVE!!! and the second that song came out i zoomed it straight into my fic playlist and unfortunately there are so many guys this could be. right now the one that's resonating is, of course, the golden boy and his haunted ghost themselves: mcstrome.

i am thinking about connor, specifically, after the stanley cup final. that game seven. how angry he was, how loud the silence when they told him he won the conn smythe. how close he's come before and again and again lost. there's nobody else to blame but himself. he's in the empty room and he knows why (1)

at!! your best!!! you were magic!!! oh, golden boy. connor the anointed, of course. at the very beginning of his career we always knew he was something special and who wouldn't have fallen in love with him? weren't all of us a little bit dylan strome in awe of the generational talent? we were all bathed in radiant light just by being in the vicinity (2)

don't even tell 'em that you know me breaks my heart (3). in terms of building a narrative i think i've said before there is a universe where connor/dylan were together before the draft and to protect both of them, dylan breaks up with him. connor says i love you and dylan says i don't. because he doesn't, you know? he loved connor. he loved davo. he can't be in love with connor mcdavid, first overall pick of the edmonton oilers. i'd rather be hurt forever than have to watch us try to make this work and destroy us.

and after connor mcdavid left the otters, dylan strome captained them to a memorial cup win. what a haunted home, eh? to be captain of the team you and your best friend were on, only now he's left you? don't call me to tell me about your rookie season with the oilers--we both know about your broken collarbone. don't call me to tell about becoming the youngest captain in franchise history when i stepped into the shoes of your captaincy here. don't call me. (4)

narratively: dylan's the one who broke connor's heart and his own but by god it wasn't easy. we both know what happened, you went first overall. please don't make this harder on me. please don't call.

this verse can be about the weight of dylan having to live up to connor's standards and always being measured by him. i would just like to bring up the connor stepping stone chart for absolutely no reason as well (5)

we are, at long last, at the potential future of now: dylan strome, happy, smiling, thriving on the washington capitals. connor, on the oilers. i'm not yours, dylan can say. haven't been for a long time. it took some time but i made this. please don't call and ruin this for me, stay out of my life. i don't want you or need you (6)

[p.s. this took a while because when i received this ask i was a) immediately possessed to write this verse by verse breakdown i had never thought of before and then b) immediately plagued by the idea of making you a little graphic (above the read more) and finally got to do it after banging out all the actual lyric thoughts two (?) weeks ago. emerging two and a half hours later from the fugue state of GIMP with 37 layers in this bad boy hope you enjoy!!!]

[onrainynights]

something really interesting is that since I've started learning programming, I've begun to look at video games differently. I still enjoy them, and they're still a huge passion of mine. I still watch other people play games. but now, I find myself analyzing games beyond artistic merit or how fun they are. now I look at a game mechanic and try to figure out how it was made, how I would recreate it or if I *could* recreate it with what I've learned so far/the game engine I've been using. I don't intend to copy these games, it's just a thought exercise that I can't seem to help but engage in. it's like my brain is rewiring slowly and there's nothing I can do to stop it except give up learning. honestly, I love it. I feel like I'm learning a useful skill for the first time since I started composing music (which is, coincidentally, something that will be useful for game development) in 2021. before that, the last time I felt this way was when I was conversational in Japanese in early 2020 (which sadly I did not keep up with studying after lockdown) I'm starting to feel like I could turn this little hobby into a career with a hundred more hours of practice and a little bit of luck. and that's more than I can say for anything else in my life, so really I guess I'm lucky that youtube last month decided to recommend me the video that eventually led me to finally, after years of wishing I could, just sit down and start learning how to make games. anyway this is a long post and I don't think anyone will ever read it. the point is I forgot how incredible it feels to learn, really learn something I *want* to learn without the pressure of a deadline or a grade, to learn for the sake of learning and developing a new skill, and I wonder if this is what people who get phds instead of dropping out of college feel like

[artbyblastweave]

So I don't really think that it's a secret that Boston has a significant Minotaur problem. It's a pretty common situation for older American cities on the East Coast- centuries of poorly-documented cowpath-style urban growth providing an ideal nesting ground, widespread electrification and plentiful steam tunnels that compensate for the loss of the temperate Mediterranean climate that they're used to. And all this on top of limited institutional knowledge of proper containment tactics at least up until the Greek diaspora started to really blow up in the 20th century. You only have to fuck up the safety checks on one cargo steamer coming in from the broad area of old Minoa and then basically any import controls you put in after that point are closing the barn door after the bulls are loose. So yeah, no secret, it's an issue.

I do think, though, that we've kind of let the specific narrative surrounding the issue get away from us in the usual fashion, the problem people picture when they hear "Minotaur" isn't anywhere close the to the problem as it exists on the ground. I mean people's minds immediately jump to the 1949 Boylston massacre, but let's be real, even though that was really politically useful for finally getting the exit fares on the T removed, that was still a black-swan event, right? Basically every mayor since, like, Hynes has lived in mortal terror of having to manage a repeat of something like that during the mass media era, let alone the smartphone era. So we've got these Theseus kill-teams with their titanium-composite ropes and souped-up cattle prods and bolt guns, we have these constant "track replacement" stoppages on the orange line, and it's fine. It's fine! There hasn't been a serious Minotaur thing within walking distance of a T stop since, like, 2006, which again you can mostly chalk up to the chaos surrounding the dig.

No, the actual danger zones, the silent killers are the exurbs, like West Roxbury, Roslindale, parts of Hyde Park. Relatively dense foliage, bad sightlines, far enough from the urban center that the response times are bad, foot traffic that's basically nonexistent for big parts of the workweek because everyone's either commuting or hunkered down working from home. And, of course, a steady stream of delivery drivers with no political ties to the area. Which is an important element, right? I mean it's kind of baked into the Minotaur's nature, that they have a very finely tuned instinctual awareness of the politics of their situation. Start snagging homeowners, there might be a ruckus. But Amazon does steady business everywhere, and Minotaurs are smart enough to cover their bases, to wait until after the drivers have dropped off your package or delivered your food. So yeah, watch yourself out there. One eye on the treeline at all times. And if you see an Amazon van left idling, get ready to run faster than the driver could.

[just-ornstein]

[JK]  My first job was as an Assistant Producer for a video game company called Interplay in Irvine, CA. I had recently graduated from Boston University's School of Fine Arts with an MFA in Directing (I started out as a theatre nerd), but also had some limited coding experience and a passion for computers. It didn't look like I'd be able to make a living directing plays, so I decided to combine entertainment and technology (before it was cool!) and pitched myself to Brian Fargo, Interplay's CEO. He gave me my first break. I packed up and moved out west, and I've been producing games ever since.

[JK] I loved my time at EA. I was there for almost a full decade, and learned a tremendous amount about game-making, and met the most talented and driven people, who I remain in touch with today. EA gave me many opportunities, and never stopped betting on me. I worked on The Sims for nearly 5 years, and then afterwards, I worked on console action games as part of the Visceral studio. I was the Creative Director for the 2007 game "The Simpsons", and was the Executive Producer and Creative Director for the 2009 game "Dante's Inferno".

[JK] I haven't played in a long while, but I do recall that after the game shipped, my wife and I played the retail version for some time -- we created ourselves, and experimented with having a baby ahead of the actual birth of our son (in 2007). Even though I'd been part of the development team, and understood deeply how the simulation worked, I was still continually surprised at how "real" our Sims felt, and how accurate their responses were to having a baby in the house. It really felt like "us"!

Now for some of the development and lore related questions:

[JK] So I ended up in the incredibly fortunate position of creating the shipping neighborhoods for The Sims 2, and recruiting a few teammates to help me as we went along. 

Around the same time, we started using the Buy/Build tools to make houses we could save, and also bring them into each new build of the game (correcting for any bugs and incompatibilities). With the import tool, we could load Sims into these houses. In time, this "vanguard QA" process turned into a creative endeavor to define the "saved state" of the neighborhoods we would actually end up shipping with the game.

On playtesting & the leftover sims data on various lots:

Basically, we were in the late stages of development, and the Save Game functionality wasn't quite working. In order to test the game properly, you really needed to have a lot of assets, and a lot of Sims with histories (as if you'd been playing them for weeks) to test out everything the game had to offer. So I started defining a set of characters in a spreadsheet, with all their tuning variables, and worked with engineering to create an importer, so that with each new build, I could essentially "load" a kind of massive saved game, and quickly start playing and testing. 

It was fairly organic, and as the game's functionality improved, so did our starter houses and families. 

The thought process behind the creation of the iconic three neighborhoods:

I would not say it was particularly planned out ahead of time. We knew we needed a few saved houses to ship with the game; Sims 1, after all, had the Goth house, and Bob Newbie's house. But there wasn't necessarily a clear direction for what the neighborhood would be for Sims 2. We needed the game to be far enough along, so that the neighborhood could be a proper showcase for all the features in the game. With each new feature that turned alpha, I had a new tool in my toolbox, and I could expand the houses and families I was working on. Once we had the multi-neighborhood functionality, I decided we would not just have 1 starter neighborhood, but 3. With the Aging feature, Memories, a few wacky objects, plus a huge catalog of architectural and decorative content, I felt we had enough material for 3 truly distinct neighborhoods. And we added a couple of people to what became the "Neighborhood Team" around that time.

Later, when we created Strangetown, and eventually Veronaville, I believe we went back and changed Pleasantville to Pleasantview... because I liked the alliteration of "Verona-Ville", and there was no sense in having two "villes". (To this day, by the way, I still don't know whether to capitalize the "V" -- this was hotly debated at the time!)

Pleasantview:

Anyway, to answer your question, we of course started with Pleasantview. As I recall, we were not quite committed to multiple neighborhoods at first, and I think it was called Pleasantville initially, which was kind of a nod to Simsville... but without calling it Simsville, which was a little too on the nose. (There had also been an ill-fated game in development at Maxis at the time, called SimsVille, which was cancelled.) It's been suggested that Pleasantville referred to the movie, but I don't think I ever saw that movie, and we just felt that Pleasantville kind of captured the feeling of the game, and the relaxing, simple, idyllic world of the Sims.

Pleasantview started as a place to capture the aging feature, which was all new to The Sims 2. We knew we had toddlers, teens, and elders to play with, so we started making families that reflected the various stages of family life: the single mom with 3 young kids, the parents with two teens, the old rich guy with two young gold-diggers, etc. We also had a much greater variety of ethnicity to play with than Sims 1, and we had all new variables like sexual orientation and memories. All these things made for rich fodder for a great diversity of families. Then, once we had family trees, and tombstones that carried the actual data for the dead Sims, the doors really blew open. We started asking ourselves, "What if Bella and Mortimer Goth could be characters in Sims 2, but aged 25 years? And what if Cassandra is grown up? And what if Bella is actually missing, and that could be a fun mystery hanging over the whole game?" And then finally the "Big Life Moments" went into the game -- like weddings and birthdays -- and we could sort of tee these up in the Save Game, so that they would happen within the first few minutes of playing the families. This served both as a tutorial for the features, but also a great story-telling device.

Anyway, it all just flowed from there, as we started creating connections between families, relationships, histories, family trees, and stories that we could weave into the game, using only the simulation features that were available to us. It was a really fun and creative time, and we wrote all of the lore of Sims 2 within a couple of months, and then just brought it to life in the game.

Strangetown:

Strangetown was kind of a no-brainer. We needed an alternate neighborhood for all the paranormal stuff the Sims was known for: alien abduction, male pregnancy, science experiments, ghosts, etc. We had the desert terrain, which created a nice contrast to the lush Pleasantville, and gave it an obvious Area 51 vibe.

The fact that Veronaville is the oldest file probably reflects the fact that it was finished first, not that it was started first. That's my guess anyway. It was the simplest neighborhood, in many ways, and didn't have as much complexity in terms of features like staged big life moments, getting the abduction timing right, the alien DNA thing (which I think was somewhat buggy up until the end), etc.  So it's possible that we simply had Veronaville "in the can", while we put the last polish on Pleasantville (which was the first and most important neighborhood, in terms of making a good impression) and Strangeville (which was tricky technically).

Veronaville:

But my personal favorite was Veronaville. We had this cool Tudor style collection in the Build mode catalog, and I wanted to ship some houses that showed off those assets. We also had the teen thing going on in the aging game, plus a lot of romance features, as well as enemies. I have always been a Shakespeare buff since graduate school, so putting all that together, I got the idea that our third neighborhood should be a modern-day telling of the Romeo and Juliet story. It was Montys and Capps (instead of Montagues and Capulets), and it just kind of wrote itself. We had fun creating the past family trees, where everyone had died young because they kept killing each other off in the ongoing vendetta.

[JK] You know, I have never seen The Lone Gunmen, and I don't remember making any kind of direct references with the Strangetown Sims, other than the general Area 51 theme, as you point out. Charles London helped out a lot with naming Sims, and I'm pretty sure we owe "Vidcund" and "Lazlo" to him ... though many team members pitched in creatively. He may have had something in mind, but for me, I largely went off of very generic and stereotypical ideas when crafting these neighborhoods. I kind of wanted them to be almost "groaners" ... they were meant to be tropes in every sense of the word. And then we snuck in some easter eggs. But largely, we were trying to create a completely original lore.

[JK] Well, I think we kind of pushed it with The Sims 2, to be honest, and I remember getting a little blow-back about Bunny Broke, for example. Bunny Broke was the original name for Brandi Broke. Not everyone found that funny, as I recall, and I can understand that. It must have been changed before we shipped.

We also almost shipped the first outwardly gay Sims in those neighborhoods, which was bold for EA back in 2004. My recollection was that we had set up the Dreamers to be gay (Dirk and Darren), but I'm looking back now and see that's not the case. So I'm either remembering incorrectly (probably) or something changed during development.

In general we just did things that we found funny and clever, and we just pulled from all the tropes of American life.

[JK] The alien abduction started in Sims 1, with a telescope object that was introduced in the "Livin' Large" expansion pack. That's when some of the wackier ideas got introduced into the Sims lore. That pack shipped just before I joined Maxis in 2001; when I got there, the team had shipped "House Party" and was underway on "Hot Date". So I couldn't tell you how the original idea came about, but The Sims had this 50's Americana vibe from the beginning, and UFOs kind of played right into that. So the alien abduction telescope was a no-brainer to bring back in Sims 2. The male pregnancy was a new twist on the Sims 1 telescope thing. It must have been that the new version (Sims 2) gave us the tech and flexibility to have male Sims become pregnant, so while this was turned "off" for the core game, we decided to take advantage of this and make a storyline out of it. I think this really grew out of the fact that we had aliens, and alien DNA, and so it was not complicated to pre-bake a baby that would come out as an alien when born. The idea of a bunch of guys living together, and then one gets abducted, impregnated, and then gives birth to an alien baby ... I mean, I think we just all thought that was hilarious, in a sit-com kind of way. Not sure there was much more to it than that. Everything usually came from the designers discovering ways to tweak and play with the tech, to get to funny outcomes.

[JK] Possibly we were just testing the functionality of the Wants/Fears and Memories systems throughout development, and some stuff got left over.

[JK] I can't remember, but that sounds like something we would have done! I'm pretty sure we laid the groundwork for more stories that we ended up delivering :) But The Sims 2 was a great foundation for a lot of continued lore that followed.

--

I once again want to thank Jonathan Knight for granting me this opportunity and taking the time from his busy schedule to answer my questions.

[miley1442111]

birthday break-a.hotchner

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summary: aaron almost misses your birthday

pairing: aaron hotchner x fiancé! fem! reader

warnings: angst, fluff, angsty for a moment (I think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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To say you were a little bit pissed off was an understatement. It was your birthday, the one day a year anything ever got to be about you, and your fiance was missing it, with less than a day’s notice. 

You sat at the kitchen table with Jack, a solemn look on your face as you poured out his cereal. Today was going to be like any other day, nothing special, nothing new. You loved your job, but being a technical analyst for the BAU meant seeing awful things every single day, and shockingly, you weren’t really in the mood. 

“You ready?” Jack asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was waiting by the door, waiting to be dropped to school.

“Ready,” you nodded. 

Aaron was away with the rest of the team on a case in Boston. You were stuck, alone, in Quantico, with absolutely no end of this case in sight. 

You walked into the building with a frown, just wanting the day to be over already. You didn't want the pity 'happy birthday’ wishes from everyone else, when all you wanted was one from Aaron. He hadn’t texted you yet, you hadn’t called, and you were almost sure he’d forgotten, or didn’t see it as an important thing. He gets like that sometimes, one-tracked. 

“Birthday girl!” Penelope smiled, running up to you with a pink cupcake and a lit candle on top. “Blow out the candle!”

Your frown melted into a soft laughter and you blew out the candle, grateful for her and all her eccentricities. “Thank you Pen,” you smiled. “You’re the best.”

She smiled brighter. “I have to pull out all the stops for my favourite co-worker, don’t I?”

“I thought I was your favourite?” Aaron’s voice came from behind you, and you whipped around. There he stood, a smirk on his lips and his arms open for you. 

“Aaron?!” You cheered, running up and hugging him. It felt right, being in his arms again. 

He pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. “Happy birthday baby,” he smiled. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[cuteandhughesy]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Matt Rempe

summary: after a gruelling breakup with you boyfriend, you thought taking the opportunity to teach some nhl players how to figure skate for the nhl youtube channel would be the best distraction. after seeing who your assigned player is though, you're not sure if it'll be as easy as you thought.

17.6+k

warnings: SFW! figure skater! reader | heartbroken! reader | friends to lovers | fluff | pinning | kissing | suggestive themes |mentions and talk about the death of readers parent | read at your own discretion.

a/n: this is fic that mentioned figure skating and bare with me because I know absolutely nothing about it! also the first figure skating dialogue is meant to be read as like a compilation of that makes sense - like it’s not a complete scene just highlights of one. OH and the dialogue of the montage scenes are literally inspired from coach chippy’s tiktok where he learns how to figure skate. clearly that was my inspiration. okay, that’s all, enjoy!

link to playlist

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

the streets and busy buildings of new york city flash past you, screaming at you with large signs and bright lights. the taxi stops, stuck in a corner of traffic. you sigh gently, your busy travel day beginning to catch up with you. it's not like you even travelled that far, but any type of travelling always took your energy away. you look away from the bustling streets and rejoin the reality of the taxi cab.

the familiar melodies of taylor swift are gently playing through your wired headphones - wired because you've lost two pairs of airpods and can't afford a third set. instinctively, your eyes find the rearview mirror like you're the one driving, your own exhausted face starting back at you. you frown at yourself, looking away.

your taxi driver is taking, his thin lips moving animatedly expressing as he - oh he's talking you.

you tug your headphones out, abruptly stopping your music. "i'm sorry, what was that?"

"are you from new york? or vacationing?" the driver repeats himself, eyes kind from where he glances at you in the mirror.

"i'm here for work, actually." you tell him, deciding to pack up your phone and headphones for the remainder of the drive, shoving them in your duffle bag.

"ah okay, what do you do for work?"

you knaw on your lip - you've never really known how to answer that question. you're technically a professional figure skater. you went to boston university for skating and competed on the world woman's figure skating team. but that didn't always pay the bills, so you split the rest of your time working reception at a house league arena and teaching figure skating to kids 5-7.

"I teach figure skating," you settle on. the taxi starts to move again, the driver taking a sharp left turn that jolts you sideways in the backseat.

"some kids need your help here?" the driver laughs gently, working the wheel to weave the car through traffic.

you breath a little chuckle, eyeing the traffic. "something like that."

a few weeks ago you had been approached by somebody apart of the social administration team for the national hockey league asking if you'd be interested in a mini youtube series where they had professional skaters come and teach nhl players how to figure skate.

at first you were going to pass on the opportunity. your boyfriend of two years had broken up with you only a week before the nhl reached out to you- claiming he wasn't in love with you anymore and needed a fresh start. you were crushed - and honestly still are. you thought there was no way you'd be able to focus on teaching professional athletes how to arabesque properly all while navigating you're first real breakup.

but after really mulling it over, you decided that it could be the distraction you needed in your healing process. you told them yes and two weeks later you were on the train from boston to new york city - all your stuff packed in your nike duffel bag. it shouldn't be too overwhelming, you think. after all, it wasn't just you that would be teaching, there'd be four other figure skaters there with you. the email wasn't too informative about how it would all work, but it gave you basic information like schedule, times, and the actual idea of what was being filmed.

you'd each be assigned an nhl player from the teams in the surrounding areas, and you'd be responsible for not only teaching them how to figure skate, but creating a brief routine for the nhl youtube channel - then again preformed for one of the local kids hockey teams. as well, all proceeds from the video would be given to the kids - which was obviously amazing.

the taxi pulled up to the sheltered entrance of your hotel, which thankfully the nhl was paying for. after all, this trip wasn't one where you'd be getting commission and were solely here voluntarily - so you appreciate how kind the nhl has been with expenses.

"here you go," your taxi driver turns over his shoulder and gives you a warm smile, "need help with your case?"

you shake your head, "i've got it, thank you." digging through your bag to grab some cash, giving it to the old man before making your exit.

he thanks you politely. "good luck teaching those kids," he says. "I know how hard they can be to get through to."

"oh i'm ready for it."

with that you make your way into the hotel, checking in at the reception desk. the hotel is like ridiculously nice and a bag boy even takes your suitcase from you and preemptively delivers it to the room before you get there.

immediately once you get into your room, you exhale tiredly. you shower quickly, barley getting to admire how stunning the bathroom was because of your lacking levels of energy. you don't even dry your hair before you're getting into bed, setting an alarm before closing your eyes.

your stomach is tickling with nerves as you begin thinking about your day tomorrow - the unknown of it all making you anxious. you just pray your designated nhl player is a good listener, patient and a good partner.

— Day One

"and this is the rink - obviously nothing crazy but it is the rangers practice facility so it's definitely nice," mark, the main personal of the admin team gestures to the stark white rink behind him, an excited smile on his face as he talks to you all.

just the smell of the ice has you smiling, and any lingering feelings of anxiety you were feeling about this week were disappearing. you breathe happily, taking another look around the arena facility.

"look at that ice." beside you, another figure skater gleams, her dark brown eyes transfixed on the sheet in front of you. she had introduced herself earlier as shay, her bubbly personality quickly exposed as she started asking you a million questions excitedly. "I can't wait to tear it up."

you quirk a brow slightly, lips pulling into a smile. "well, i'm not sure how much actual figure skating we'll get to do between teaching."

she groans and you giggle at her dramatics.

"alright, guys so," mark claps his hands together, gathering all figure skaters and media personals attention. "we're going to head back to the meeting room and the players will be arriving shortly - once they get here we will go over the process of partnering up and the schedule."

you enter the meeting room soon after, shay at your side - a spring in her step. as you make your way back to the table you'd earlier left your duffle bag (stuffed full with anything you may need), you can't help but feel eager to learn which players would not only be participating, but which player you would be assigned to.

the skaters take various seats in the room, but mostly stick together - opting for the two oval tables towards the side of the room. demi, a small blonde girl, takes a quick seat beside you, immediately resting her chin on her palm as she leans in. "who do you guys hope is here?" she smirks, her voice quiet as she asks. demi doesn't wait for an answer before she speaks again, "i'm hoping for trevor zegras."

out of the corner of your eye you watch as shay gives an unimpressed look. you fight off the knowing smirk that begins to make its way on to your face - you weren't going to be the one to tell the blond that the chances of zegras coming to new york from the other side of the country was very unlikely.

"i'm hoping for somebody who doesn't mind a challenge," you say gently, "doesn't matter who."

demi just hums uninterested, eyes leaving you and moving over towards the front of the room. just as she does so, mark along with another older gentleman enters the room, the latter of the two holding a stack of papers in a brown folder, the word "CONFIDENTIAL" stamped in bold font on the front.

instantly, you become nervous again. the door reopens a few seconds later, and five men walk into the meeting room, laughing and chatting with one another as they do so. based on the pure build of them, you know they are the nhl players you'd all be teaching. you didn't know too much about hockey, and without them wearing their teams jersey you had no idea who played for who. they all look around the same age, which was likely around yours.

in the middle of the five hockey players stands a very tall man - so tall that immediately you feel nervous. teaching somebody that tall and long limbed to figure skate would be difficult and an extreme learning curve. you can only hope whichever skater gets paired with him is patient (and you hope it's not you or shay). ideally somebody shorter and stocky would be best as they'll have an easier time learning spins and bends.

"alright, now that we are all here," mark starts, taking the stack of papers into his hands. "i'm going to go over the jist of what we're doing." he flips open to the first few pages, scanning it quickly before he starts again. "okay so, here's how it's going to work. James and I have preemptively paired each skater with one of our athletes, which was completely random - rempe don't start." one of the players laughs gently, dismissing marks teasing.

"the next couple days will have a lot of filming, so be prepared for the cameras and for my media crew to be all over you." another round of laughs echo throughout the room, and you smile gently. "to my hockey players, please be kind and respectful with the skaters - there already doing a great deal by coming here to teach you, so don't make it difficult."

James is the one to continue, his deep voice projecting around the room. "any and all proceeds from our tiktok and youtube accounts will be given to the new york rockets little league team. as well, the figure skater and assigned player will be preforming a mini routine for the rockets team before our hockey players will be playing a game with them - understood?"

a murmur of agreements can be heard throughout the meeting room. mark clears his throat, beginning to read off his papers. "shay biles, raise your hand for me," like told, shay happily puts her arm in the air, waving slightly. mark beams, "perfect, okay, john beecher this is your partner."

john waves back gently, nodding his head in greeting from across the room. shay definitely got lucky, you think. john seems kind, his eyes gentle and smile bright as he looks at shay. beecher is a name you've heard living in boston, and your younger brother has definitely screamed his name at the tv while watching the bruins. you feel a bit upset that you hadn't gotten john, at least that way you'd have living in boston to relate to.

one of the girls you hadn't really had a chance to talk with is called out next, and she gets paired with an islanders player. she seemed relatively content with her partnership, her smile wide and eyed slightly shiny as anthony greeted her from across the room- perhaps she was a fan of duclair.

demi is called for next. the blonde grins smugly, waving her fingers in a way that seems very amorous. "dawson mercer this is your figure skating partner." the nhl star in question raises his hand from between his crossed arms in greeting, giving the bright blonde one quick wave.

you swear you can hear demi mumble something to you about dawson being 'kinda cute', which makes you feel a bit awkward - you don't know is demi wants you to respond or just stay quiet and nonchalant. shay seems to of heard demi's comment, and she nudges you side gently. shay's smile is barley noticeable, but you see it, and you have to hide you face.

"okay, y/n y/l/n..." mark calls your name and your stomach swoops. the reality of the situation all feels a bit daunting - reminding you of when a teacher would randomly call on you in primary school. your hand moves upwards, your elbow still resting on the table top as you wave gently. mark smiles triumphantly, "ah wonderful - okay matt rempe this is your partner."

it feels like the room goes silent, the constant mumbling and laughter from the table of nhl players comes to a halt. nervous and confused, you eye them all, waiting with anticipation for matt rempe to make himself known - although based on the pause of commotion in the meeting room, it seems like everybody but you is already acquainted with him.

just then, the tallest one that had caught your eye earlier leans forward. you can feel your stomach come up your throat before quickly dropping down to your feet. matt's lips tug up in a slinky smile, jerking his head once in greeting. you can't believe your luck. of course you'd get paired with the borderline giant guy - you can't even begin to fathom how much taller he'll be on skates. you're not too sure yet how you're going to teach him to figure skate gracefully, especially when it comes to spins and gliding - both of those naturally being more difficult to do when you're taller.

you look away. the combination of matt's confident greeting and your own personal turmoil about his height all too much. you swallow nervously, fuck.

you can already tell from the way matt carries himself and how his co-workers act around him that he is the kind of guy who's very...vainglorious. that had you feeling even more timid about teaching him - still dealing with the affects of your heartbreak and learning how to handle everything on top of that was a very different feeling.

and just as the cherry on top, demi leans closer to you from across the table, her voice a quiet, teasing hum as she talks out of the side of her mouth. "lucky duck - you got the hottest one."

double fuck.

soon after the mini breakdown in your head - all figure skaters, hockey players and media personnel were directed back down to the ice level of the rink. the former two groups quickly getting ushered towards the dressing rooms of the practice facility to change into appropriate clothes for skating.

thankfully all the other skaters opted for a more toned down, casual figure skating attire, so you don't feel out of place in your flare leggings, leotard and align zip up. shay looks like she's wearing something similar to you, smiling at you warmly before leaving. so that anxiety slowly settles down.

shakily, you pull your hair into a ponytail, tugging to ensure it's tight and in place. you take a slow breath, preparing yourself for the day ahead of you. slipping on your skates, you've already decided you're not going to let any hockey player change your self-healing journey - the main reason you accept the offer was to heal. you breathe a smile, tightening your skates.

as you approach the ice, you take a momentary pause - observing the scene infront of you. most of the other skaters were enthusiastically chatting with their assigned nhl players, laughing and smiling as they stretched. the atmosphere around you was filled with anticipation and excitement, which had you stomach buzzing.

you step onto the sheet of ice, your eyes darting throughout the sea of skaters and media team. there's more people and camera crew than you were originally expecting, with a good chunk of the arena filled with professional filming cameras, wires, and photographers. with a push forward, you begin to make your way into the crowd, weaving through the chaos in search of matt rempe.

you've heard talk about the name matt rempe - living in a hockey based household with your brother and dad, his name was bound to come up. unfortunately, the talk you've heard hasn't been all sunshine and flowers. matt has made a name for himself in the nhl by fighting - which obviously wouldn't be a problem with your teaching because hopefully he doesn't want to fight you. that as well as his flirtatious personality though has you still feeling a bit worried.

you still haven't caught sight of him yet, which seems odd considering his towering frame. you're definitely not the shortest of all the figure skaters by any means, but you definitely have a smaller stature in compared to your partner and some of the others crowded towards the one side of the rink.

you push forward as you glance over your shoulder - eyeing behind yourself to try and catch sight of matt. you come to a halted stop, your body being held still.

"whoa," a voice breaths with laughter above you, large hands finding your shoulders to stop your movement. "gotta watch where you're going- just saved you from tripping over a pile of wires."

you jerk your head up, finding the soft but teasing brown eyes of matt rempe staring down at you. "matt!" you exclaim loudly. he raises his brows with amused suprise, which immediately has you flushing with embarrassment - you curse yourself for your uncool exterior. "hi! matt. sorry, I'm your skater, my names-"

"y/n," matt says your name - tone a combination of gentle and amusement, your clear borderline frantic state fresh on his mind. he releases the gentle grip on your shoulders in favour of dropping his hands back down against his side. "I remember."

"right, sorry." you laugh gentle, hands nervously fiddling with the zipper of your jacket - a bad habit you'd always had has been fiddling with your clothes as a distraction. you think it's because it helps focus your energy on something else - negative or positive. during your breakup, you think you destroyed two separate strings of hoodies.

you clear your throat, dropping your hands. "have you ever figure skated before?" instantly you regret your awkward question - and you try not to cringe at yourself.  you can only hope you don't come across...unintelligent or discombobulated. the chances of a hockey player participating in this sequence of figure skating related events/ filming of he knew how was very unlikely.

matt looks himself up and down before eyeing your through his lashes, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "I definitely have not."

you chuckle awkwardly, ringing your hands. "right, of course not. you probably would've turned down all this figure skating stuff if you knew how. after all why would you willingly volunteer to get bossed around and be taught something you already knew how to do! sorry, I feel like i'm rambling."

"you apologize a lot." matt laughs, eyes glimmering with charm in the arena lighting above. "you don't need to."

"sorry-" matt's brows raise, immediately cutting you off from another apology. "im not going to finish that."

matt smiles fondly.

just then, somebody approaches you both. he looks maybe 2 or 3 years older than you, with dark hair and standing around 6 feet tall. he's got a phone clutched in his hand, and a media lanyard around his neck. "hey," he smiles when he approaches, "i'm david. i'm apart of the social admin team for the nhl and i'll be filming you guys for the tiktok content - which will be today."

you shake his hand gently, "y/n, nice to meet you." matt follows suit, shaking david's hand in greeting. david briefly discuss the filming process with you and matt, and tells you what to expect with the cameras while you're teaching. david’s instructions, although speedy, make you feel more confident in the day - finally having a clear rundown of the process lifting a weight of your shoulders.

david directs you both towards the benches where some of the other partners are stood - waiting their turns in front of the camera. some groups are  with their own social media team, filming for instagram and tiktok accounts. the lighting is dimmed on your half of the rink, providing the filming side with correct studio lighting. there's a small dunkin coffee station set up right by the bench entrance, filled with multiple coffee flavours, takeaway cups, creamers, sugar and even a box of donut holes.

you grab yourself a large paper cup, filling it to the brim with decaf. you don't even bother grabbing cream or sugar - taking three hearty gulps of coffee in hopes to get some hyperactive energy.

lowering the cup from your face, you catch sight of somebody as they skate up beside you. you glance over, just to see matt grab one of the cake flavoured deserts and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. he catches your gaze, and he smiles - mouth full of donut and all.

your brows raise in surprise, his clear comfortability almost has you feeling envious - for his sakes you're trying your best to lighten up and he just is already. you clear your throat twice, "need some coffee to wash all that down?"

matt eyes your cup and he almost makes a face. he swallows heavily, shaking his head. "i'm good - takes more than tiny donut hole to take me down."

you nod with understanding, an amused smile pulling at your mouth - you raise your cup, taking a sip to mask your enjoyment.

matt indulges in one more donut, dusting his hands free of any icing against the front of his rangers jersey. you cringe momentarily, resisting the urge to reach out and wipe away any remnants. "so," matt starts, finishing the last few chews of the donut, "how long have you seen skating?" 

"my whole life," you tell him, happily taking another sip of your drink. "my mom was a figure skater so as soon as I could walk she put me in lessons," you continue, "which obviously seems a little controlling - but i'm glad she did...the opportunities i've had and the memories i've made are just unbelievable."

you pause and take a moment to think about your figure skating journey and just how thankful you are being put in lessons that young - you're not sure where you'd be without skating. you lost your mom when you were 15 - only 8 years ago. figure skating was always a way to stay connected to her and her memories. seeing your dad's blissful face when he watches you compete is always so fulfilling.

matt nods almost solemnly, as if he knows what you were thinking off. he shifts so his entire body is turned towards you, giving you his full attention. "that's actually pretty amazing - where do you compete?"

"i've gone to worlds a handful of times, which is just crazy at my age." you laugh in disbelief just at the thought. first time you went to worlds was when you were 16 years old, and a two more times when you were 17 and 18. you were one of the youngest competitors at being freshly 16 - only two girls from japan and canada being the same age.

matt's brows furrow, "how old are you know?"

"23 right now," you answer, "but I started competitively training when I was 12 and went to the first championship series when I was 16."

"holy crap," he laughs, nodding his head impressed - lips quirked in a half smile. "do you still train competitively? is all this your full time job?"

after another drink of your coffee, you sigh with ponder. "honestly - no. I still work in figure skating - teaching kids in my free time at the arena back home - hence why i'm here. it's just...." you trail off, brows furrowed as you try and find the right words. competing at the levels you used to was a lot. the diet was extremely strict, the training was intense and your mental and physical health was not good. you love skating and you'll always continue to teach it, but actually competing is something you'd never subject your body to again.

"too much." matt nods in understanding, answering for you.

you smile in conformation, "too much." you can tell by matt's sad and understanding smile that he knows exactly the strain and intensity you'd dealt with - he is an athlete after all. you clear your throat, "but i'm excited to be here though, I promise."

he dissolves into laughter, shoulders shaking. "don't worry, I didn't think you weren't."

you breath in relief, your moment of silent worry that matt would think you weren't grateful for the opportunity you were in slipping away. "so how come you decided to do this?" you ask curiously, topping up your coffee cup with more decaf. it overfills, sloshing over the rim as you look at him. silently, you curse, releasing the latch to stop the liquid from pouring out.

matt smiles fondly as you switch hands, moving your cup out of your wet hand. thankfully, it's not scorching so you're not burnt but you're wet and a little embarrassed. you're trying to shake the liquid off your hand when matt wordlessly grabs a napkin out of the stack on the table, gently grabbing your wrist as he pats your skin with it.

you swallow gently, watching him clean the coffee off your hand. matt doesn't seemed fazed, eyes focused on your sticky skin as he answers your question. "honestly, I don't think I was their first choice - they asked Schneider first but he declined. i'm glad they asked me next though, because i'm always looking to try new things." your hand is dry now, and matt balls the napkin up before throwing it into the trash can. he smiles, "and figure skating is on skates right, so I mean i've already got that part down."

in a moment of vulnerability, you spin back to properly face him. you go to speak, "can I be honest with you?"

he nods.

you continue, "tall people and figure skating don't always go hand in hand- when you're tall things like twizzles and jumps and flexibility don't come as easy. so when I first saw you I remember thinking I felt bad for your partner," you laugh once, "and then once I found out that you were my partner I got really nervous. I just...," you pause, sighing, "I don't want you to feel like you can't do it properly or as well as some of the shorter players or feel upset because I can't show you everything- i'm rambling again, sorry I-"

"y/n," he hums playfully, "the only thing i'll be upset about is if you keep apologizing for no reason." he spins on his skates so that his back is towards the coffee table, his side bumping into your front teasingly. he rests against the edge, hands gripping the table to keep himself steady.

you breath a laugh, mimicking his position. your arms brush together, and you belly sort off...wobbles. "I know, I know - I just want this to be good."

"it will be," matt smiles triumphantly.

david comes shuffling over again, now with a mini ring light attached to the media branded cellphone. he beams, coming to a shaky stop. he gestures to his phone, "i've got to get you two for a tiktok before the youtube crew takes you." david then goes into what you need to say and maneuvers you both to a more aesthetically appealing background.

you begin, smiling brightly at the camera and praying your eyes aren't squinty with the bright light. "hi tiktok i'm y/n and ill be teaching new york ranger, matt rempe, how to figure skate this week."

"stay tuned for exclusive content and behind the scenes on the new york rangers tiktok and instagram page - as well for the full videos on youtube." matt concludes, looking down at you briefly.

"great - that's amazing guys! i'll catch up with you both later." then david scoots away, back towards the exit off the rink where some media tables are set up - full of equipment, passes and extra water bottles and snacks.

next thing you know you and matt are both being ushered in front of the cameras for your segment of todays filming. like david, one of the directors - a middle aged blonde woman with a encouraging voice - tells you how to start and what to say. she ensures you if either of you need a break and/or further instructions to not hesitate to stop and ask.

with that being said, matt begins to video off. he stands tall, large arms held behind his back as he stands perfectly on the mark. "I'm matt rempe from the new york rangers and today I'm learning how to figure skate," matt smiles with exaggerated nervousness, eyeing you.

you giggle quietly, "and i'm professional figure skater, y/n y/l/n and today i'll be teaching matt the basics of figure skating - starting off easy for ole matt."

his arms come loose, and he holds his hands up in a surrender like position, turning towards you. "okay if im being honest I think i'll get the hang of this pretty easily," matt admits confidently.

smirking, you eye him, "let's see." you push off, skating away gracefully, spinning back around to face your partner. "ready for your first set of moves?"

"born ready."

-

you finishing off one of the quicker spins, making your final turn before gracefully skating out of the motion - demonstrating for matt.

his brows raise in shock, eyes slowly meeting the camera. staring down the lens. he shrugs doubtfully, cracking his neck in preparation. "my turn."

matt tries to recreate the spin, slowly and wobbly twizzling around the ice. it's definitely not perfect as he can't seem to stay in the same area and he only makes it around four full times before beginning to slip out. "that's crazy." he laughs in disbelief. "show me again."

"just-" you sigh with a smile, getting back into position to twizzle around once again. "like that."

matt tries again, and although his second attempt was more more successful, he was still a bit unstable with his movements. the tall athlete comes to a wobbly stop, brown eyes closing in discomfort. you know that face all too well and immediately you know he hasn't spotted - which is your own fault for not teaching him. "i'm dizzy,"matt puts his hands on his knees, leaning over to try and ground himself. "I don't even know how you do that."

once he's no longer feeling nauseous, you quickly teach him the importance of knowing how to spot.

-

matt's hands are heavy in yours, his grip tightening to mimick your hold as you both attempt another jump - granted it's a bit difficult considering his height. regardless, it's successful and he lands pretty much perfectly.

you encourage him further as you both skate, praises happily spilling from your mouth as you him skate gracefully - well, as graceful as somebody that tall can. you slow ever so slightly, tightening your grip again to signal for another jump.

matt's tongue pokes out and his brows furrow with concentration. he pushes off the ice like you showed him, jumping into the air. he lands again, a warm laugh leaving him. "oh my god!"

"great!," you beam, bringing you both to a slow stop. then you tell matt that he has to attempt jumping on his own and his once smile is quickly flipped.

-

"okay matt we gotta dip," you hum knowingly, already sensing his disappointment - matt's earlier distain towards low level figure skating moves ringing in your head. "dig real low."

like suspected, matt groans - it's not that he doesn't want to try and do the move because he knows that's why he's here and he wants to make your experience pleasant. he's groaning because he knows how him trying will end.

matt's first dip down to the ice is successful, and you gleam, gliding along beside him. "look at how low you are!"

matt continues to slide along the ice, one of his long legs extended in front of him. he's practically holding his breath, concentrating on making another successful dip down. it isn't much longer before he slips, landing roughly on his back.

matt groans in displeasure, his arms falling dramatically as he rolls on the ice. the sight of the tall man laying on the ice like a child has you laughing into your palm, eyeing him gently.

he pushes back onto his knees before standing to his full height, brows furrowed. "are you laughing at me?" matt questions you, his own laugh slipping out between his uncomfortable groans - the wind just about knocked out of him from the fall.

your hands fall from your face, raising in surrender. "i'm not even laughing cause it's funny. it's just like-"

"I was digging for you." matt claims cheekily - referring to your earlier comment about matt needing to dig deeper into figure skating. "I wanted to go low for you." he's gently rubbing his elbow, a grimace still on his face.

"I know. you were actually very low I was impressed."

-

you expertly lean into your spin, bending your back to complete the movement.

matt squints unsure. "i'm having a hard time committing to that right now."

-

you move forwards, quickly stopping your skates as you swing your body from side to side - skate blades tearing into the ice in a jerk like motion.

matt watches you closely from where he takes a momentary break against the boards. "oh so we are doing slow mo now?"

"yup." you chirp, rounding back towards him.

"fuck me," he huffs out, pushing off the wall. they'll definitely have to bleep that out.

-

your back is practically pressed into matt's chest, breathing gently as you push your bodies together. "give me your other hand," you remind him gently. "goes on the hip."

like told, matt's large hand rounds in to the dip of your hip, securely holding onto your body in preparation for a glide. against your other hand, his fingers flex slightly, fixing his grasp.

"okay and you're going to push off the ice."

"okay," he mumbles from above the top of your head. he goes to push off the ice, but from pure instinct he kicks off too strongly and too quickly - his legs wobbling as he practically launches you both. matt curses, toe picking to a stop.

"woah," he breaths a laugh. "not smooth, eh? let's redo that."

you laugh gently, and you pull him back into proper position. "you got it, just focus on the journey rather than the destination."

"I can't concentrate when you're looking at me like that." matt says, a small teasing smirk following as you both get ready to glide again.

"oh my god." you mumble.

-

matt's breathless, hands on his hips as he collects himself after trying to do more practice on his solo jumps. he looks dead at you, lips tugging up into a smirk, panting as he tries to collect himself. "we don't need to do any triples axels today."

you giggle through your own breathlessness, sympathetically patting his padded shoulder. "you've worked hard enough."

"i'll do a triple axel probably next session." he jokes, shrugging nonchalantly. you scoff, pushing against his shoulder teasingly.

-

"i'm sweating," matt huffs.

-

"why are you standing like that?" you laugh, pausing your demonstration to skate over towards matt.

"what do you mean? that's just how I stand." it's definitely not how he stands - and he's looking rather uncomfortable as he attempts to balance on his toes, his knees bent.

you can only laugh in disbelief. in an attempt to fix his awkward posture, you push against his chest with one hand, trying to angle him backwards while your other hand attempts to keep his lower back in proper position. "you're ridiculous - you look like jason kelce ready to catch a football."

-

"I think my hips are too far forward," matt hums thoughtfully, teetering uncomfortably.

"yeah?" you question.

"yeah," he nods with confirmation, swishing his hips around in a circular motion - trying to loosen his muscles. "they're too tight - everything's too tight." he sends an exaggerated wink in your direction, trying to further us attempt at a dirty innuendo.

you splutter, heat rising to your face. "stop it."

-

finally after a tiring and eventful couple hours, you and matt are done skating and filming for the day. it's only a couple minutes of an interview like questionare on the other end of the ice - away from jamie drysdale as his figure skater begins to go over turns before you get to get changed.

you're exhausted by the time you're walking out of the change room - swapping your athletic zip up for an oversized hoodie and figure skates for your slip ons. you let your ponytail down, fluffing the kinks from your hair as you begin to make your way down the hallway towards the parking garage entrance.

thankfully, yesterday when you arrived you had an email from the nhl informing you that your rental car, courtesy of the nhl, had arrived to your hotel and the keys were with reception. you're very thankful, because spending all your money on taxis wouldn't be ideal.

you’re right at the car, your finger already placed against the unlock button on the rented key fob when someone calls your name, the familiar voice echoing through the concrete parking garage.

matt comes up beside you just as you turn around - a friendly grin on his lively face.

you smile politely. "hey."

he breaths a greeting, "hi." matt doesn't say anything else - only continuing to look down at you gently, an unknown expression along side his gaze.

your brows come together with amused confusion, your lips changing into a slight smirk. "everything okay?" you ask, leaning back against your car door.

he blinks out of his stare, shaking his head slightly. "yeah, sorry. just wanted to thank you for today - you're really patient and like super chill. i'm looking forward to tomorrow and working with you further - god knows I didn't make it the easiest task."

"oh," you breathe, "thanks, matt that's really kind of you to say. you're great at this, don't worry."

he laughs softly, "thanks - still not sure about those spins though."

you giggle gently, the thought of matt's green complexion and woozy eyes still fresh in your mind. you tug your tongue, poking at his bicep "spotting," you remind him.

"right, spotting," he kisses his teeth, nodding with thought. his mouth opens briefly, nothing but silence coming out - but then he sighs, "you're ridiculously good, y/n, i've been blown away by you."

you swallow thickly, completely shocked at his kind words and warmhearted complexion. he smiles sheepishly, like he might be embarrassed by his straightforward compliment. you muster up a grin, fiddling with the edge of your sweatshirt. "that means a lot to me - thank you."

"you're welcome," he says sheepishly, rubbing one of his large palms over the back of his neck. matt steps backwards, eyes meeting yours. "i'll see you tomorrow, y/n."

"i'll see you tomorrow, matt."

— Day Two

like yesterday, you and matt ended up being one of the first skating partners to be filmed. which was kind of nice, because after the hour or so of teaching him, you got to have a break. granted today both you and matt had to stay for some extra interview style filming and then proceed to begin to practice the 40 second - 1 minute routine needed for a few days time.

you had already finished your question session for the day, so you were sat comfortably on one of the benches. the sounds of shay's skates gliding across the ice as she taught john some more complex spins was a soothing noise - giving you a moment to reflect.

last night after your long day spent with matt, you had gotten back to your hotel exhausted once again - eyes practically fluttering closed on the elevator ride up. you had briefly checked social media before heading to bed in search for some brain distraction before sleep - only to be met with your exes instagram story with another girl: the two looking very cozy together.

that sent you into a depressive spiral, which included lots of self doubt and crying. it's not even the fact that he had moved on from your relationship quickly, but the thought of him having no regards for how you may feel had you feeling sick - your self doubt and insecurities in full force.

your eyes had still hurt from your night of crying when you woke up - definitely still puffy as you showed up at the rink. you definitely hadn't been as layed back today, and most of your responses were short and quick - your movements not as precise or clean. your heartbreak was beginning to affect you on the rink...all because of a stupid instagram story. you honestly felt bad for matt having to deal with you and you can only hope you're not ruining his experience.

the sound of somebody stepping up onto the padded area of the benches has you snapping out of your daydreaming, looking up at the source to see matt hobbling towards you - the padding affecting his skate blades.

matt was coming from filming some interview content with david like you had previously done - now taking a seat beside you on the bench before you'd both have to practice the routine. matt sits close enough to you that his arm bumps yours, but he doesn't seem to mind the closeness - making no effort to move away from you, keeping your limbs pressed together.

"good job today." you smile gently towards him, but it doesn't meet your eyes. quickly, you turn your attention back towards the rink - john beecher's laugh a nice distraction.

matt smiles politely even though you're not looking at him, "thanks - you too."

you shoot him a questioning glance, but there's a ghost of a smile on your face - his little quip getting to you. it makes matt beam, eyes trained on you even as david zooms over to take some behind the scenes pictures of you both - he's gone before you even have a chance to pose.

you find the ice, instinctively thinking about your ex once again. you're almost angry at yourself for doing so - you took this opportunity to try and heal and get over the heartbreak back in boston. and matt was so nice yesterday, already providing you with a comfortable distraction in your healing journey.

matt nudges his skate covered foot against yours, pulling you out from another moment of daydreaming. "you trying to steal some teaching techniques from shay or something?"

"what?"

"you keep zoning out over there." he laughs gently, his elbow nudging into you in one last attempt to get you to crack.

you laugh, but it's definitely forced - shaking your head as you try and clear your summersault of thoughts.

matt sighs, eyes dancing over your dull expression. "sorry if this comes across weird, but...are you okay?"

you shoot him a glance. "what do you mean?"

he shrugs, "I don't know you just look off - sorry if that's too harsh. it's just…yesterday you looked much more, I don't know, happier? or maybe more hyper? sorry if i'm overstepping, just thought I'd be a decent human being and ask." matt seems to nervously run a hand over his flowing hair, awkwardly tugging his jersey away from his neck as he rambles. "i've noticed something all day and I just thought...I don't know."

you frown gently. you've never been one who could easily control your emotions and they are always easily depicted on your face. today was no exception, and matt has clearly caught it. although you weren't planning on getting into your lingering heartache, you owed it to your partner to at least give him something. besides, matt noticing something was up with you based solely on your body language and waiting until you weren't in front of cameras to ask about it....was rather sweet and considerate of him.

matt continues to apologize to you, his eyes frantically searching your face for any notable signs of discomfort.

you press further into his side to gather his attention, doing your best at sending him a playful smirk. "hey if i'm not allowed to excessively apologize without a reason - neither are you."

your teasing has matt breathing a sigh of relief, but his brows still are drawn together in question. "so i'm not overstepping?"

you shake your head. "you being perspective and asking me if i'm okay is not overstepping."

his brows change, shooting up in suprise. "so you're not okay is what you're telling me?"

you sigh gently, "just...having a hard time recently. nothing that deep, truly. stupid stuff."

on cue, your cell phone resting in your lap lights up with a notification, and like clockwork both you and matt look down at the glowing device. the notification isn't even the problem - just some stupid twitter notification about sydney sweeney and her new movie.

"is that your boyfriend?" matt asks you gently.

he's referring to your lockscreen picture - one that contains you and your ex laying together on the beach. matt had seen the lockscreen photo that you still hadn't had the heart to change - too attached to the memories of what once was. that was the problem.

"no, sorry - he's," you pause, debating if you're really about to tell matt - a guy you're just really getting to know - about your sad excuse of an ex. "he's my ex-boyfriend."

you can practically see the gears turning in his head, his eyes darting around your face to further take in your expression. matt puts all the clues together, humming gently. "is that why you're upset?"

for a brief moment you continue to debate about what to say. telling an nhl player about your ex wasn't exactly what you were expecting to do today, but you also don't really have any sort of outlet for your feelings. back home you sort of don't have any friends - your best friend ashley had moved to ohio for school a year ago and you had your family, but even they could be dismissive and non understanding about your heartbreak. you think matt may just be the next best thing.

"yeah," you finally sigh, "he broke up with me only a couple weeks ago."

"i'm sorry," matt says immediately, eyeing you softly. "what happened - if that's okay to ask?"

"well," you laugh breathily, your disbelief clear in your tone. "he decided that after two years he didn't love me anymore - and based on his story last night…he's already moved on. i'm not even upset that he's moving on, it just hurts to see you know?" you're weren't really expecting to spew all that, but matt doesn't seem to mind as he nods thoughtfully.

"yeah," he agrees, "similar thing happened with my ex, so in some capacity I can understand how you're feeling." he pauses, eyeing the ice once again. you find yourself following suit, watching as shay shows john how to properly do his spread eagles. "you're pretty badass for dealing with my gangly limbs and whining all while being heartbroken- if I was in your spot I probably wouldn't of come."

"that's why i'm here, actually," you laugh thoughtfully, "I thought it would be a nice distraction from all that bullshit going on at home. teaching you how to skate and making new memories. plus, you don't whine as much as I thought you would've." glancing back towards him, you see that he's already looking down at you - a smile tugging at his lips at your teasing.

"really? glad to hear i'm a good student then."

you squint at him, "well I didn't say you are good."

the sound of your further teasing has matt cackling, his head tilting back as he takes in your comment. you giggle gently, already feeling the slightest bit lighter.

"oh okay, I see how it is!" he smirks, "well, my dearest teacher is there anything I can do to improve my grade?"

you're glad that matt has taken well to your teasing, and has even continued to further your lighthearted back and forth - a pleasant conversation to help distract you from your rather tiring day. the combination of a rough night without much sleep and practically exercising all day has you left feeling exhausted.

you tap your chin in a faux thought, lips pursing outwards as you hum, "maybe if you can teach me how to throw a left hook i'll bump your mark up."

"oh so you're only here to brush up on your fighting techniques," he pauses with a hearty laugh, "I see how it is!"

you shrug unapologetically, crossing your skate covered feet over.

"do you watch hockey?" matt hums after a moment. you frown at his rather unprompted question, and you watch him quizzically - his large body bent as he re-ties his skates. you don't say anything at first, so he looks back at you over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised. "I'm only asking because you seem like you knew that I fight - I won't like...banish you if you're not a rangers fan."

you laugh. "sort of," you pause, taking a thoughtful breath. "my brother and my dad - who I live with back in boston, well, they're big bruins fans -" matt makes a disgruntled face out of habit, which has you stifling a giggle. you continue, "i've heard your name before because you fight - my brother likes you."

matt nods understandably. "what's your brothers name?"

"gavin - he just turned 10." a pang of homesickness hits you, and you really wish that your family was in new york with you, exploring the city and watching you teach.

matt smiles gently, "I'll have to meet him one day."

"he'd like that." you say instantly - not even thinking about what that would mean. how that would include matt rempe being with you in boston, or how it would be you and gavin visiting him in new york. "what about you, any siblings?"

"sisters," his face lights up, "steph and alley. they stay in calgary with my mom."

"they must be really proud of you." you hum truthfully, resting your chin on your shoulder as you smile up at him.

his smile widens, clearly very close with his mom and sisters. "they are - but i've honestly never seen them more excited about me skating, than they've been knowing you're teaching me figure skating." he laughs.

"are you telling your family about me?" you squawk with joy, eyes glimmering with playfulness.

before he has a chance to respond, the sound of demi's high pitched voice is interrupting - and it has you looking away from matt's face and back towards the rink. demi is looking at dawson with impatience, her tone coming across very short and irritated. poor dawson, you think, he must be dying inside. although you're not sure if you were any better than that today, remembering your rough start.

thankfully the devils forward just smiles and nods understandably- and you can only hope demi's temper comes across as a staged dynamic between the two of them: bossy and forgiving.

beside you, matt leans in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he whispers. "looks like I definitely ended up with the best skater." you meet his eyes curiously, and that has matt subtly gesturing towards demi, brows raised in disbelief as her impatience has now turned into obvious flirtation. you're glad matt thinks you're more tolerable than demi.

you snap your hand up towards your mouth in an attempt to cover and stifle your giggle. both of you watch as dawson tries to attempt a cantilever after demi's poor demonstration, and you can't help the roll of your eyes as demi immediately begins reprimanding him.

although her teaching skills were anything but good, you can tell that dawson also wasn't really trying and wasn't as loose with his movements - in fact, it kind of looks like dawson doesn't want to be there at all.

you turn your head into the side of matt's arm, directing your whispers into him so your voice has no chance of carrying throughout the arena. "seems like I got the best nhl player."

matt smirks once you pull away, and he bumps his  shoulder with yours. "obviously."

you scrunch your nose, "even if he is a goon."

matt's head snaps towards you, a look of shock combined with amusement on his face. "hey!" he scolds with a laugh.

matt doesn't have an opportunity to tease you further, words interrupted when shay and john make their way towards the bench, both of them looking tired after their skating session and interviews. regardless, they are both smiling and chatting cheerily as they sit down beside you.

shay is instantly bringing a ray of sunshine with her, happily greeting you and instantly chatting and giggling to you about some crazy thing she heard demi tell another one of the skaters regarding something matt doesn't quite pick up on.

he's too busy noticing how shay's presence seems to be one of the last puzzles pieces in helping you feel better and look more relaxed. your eyes continue to widen and sparkle as you laugh, and how you don't seem to venture off into daydream land while listening to john and shay animatedly go over how john almost ate shit during a glide. it's all very sweet. matt barley knows you and already he doesn't want to see you feel anything but happiness. 

without any deliberation, matt grabs your phone from your lap quickly, a smirk on his face once he sees your shocked face. he opens the camera icon, bringing your phone upwards so it is capturing all four of you on the bench. you don't get a chance to scold him before matt gets their attention. "hey guys, let's get a picture."

"oh yeah," beecher smirks, bumping into shay - which sends her body sliding into yours, and like a butterfly affect sends you into matt's side, tightly tucked into him. "everyone try to look happy and not exhausted." beecher playfully adds.

shay playfully rolls her dark eyes - clearly used to johns personality already. to further his point, john holds two fingers up behind shay's head, giving her faux bunny ears for the camera. shay leans into further your side, her head on your shoulder as she blows a kiss - while you choose to wrap your hands around matt's building forearm, practically hugging his limb as he snaps the picture.

later when you're back in your hotel room - there are three things that take you by somewhat of a surprise. the first being two instagram follows from john beecher and matt rempe - you follow both back immediately.

the second is your brother linking you a tiktok.

it's a clip of you and matt from a distance, clearly filmed by david - the two of you were whispering to one another and giggling, and it was captioned 'plotting'. your brother had texted his excitement about you getting partnered with matt rempe - which had you smiling.

the surprising part wasn't even the tiktok, it was how at ease you looked in his presence. you almost can't fathom it, because it's not just about looking at ease but you were at ease around matt.  you want to try and deny it, but you can't - whatever you're beginning to feel in his presence is undeniable.

you knaw at your lip, going into your camera roll to find the photo matt had taken of you all a few hours ago - four smiling faces starring back at you. you all look happy and like you want to be with one another - unlike the picture of you and your ex on your lockscreen. you sigh gently, but there's a gentle, content smile on your face. you make the new picture your wallpaper, replacing your ex for good.

— Day Three

you knock three times against the large wooden door of the quick home, softly to not seem too eager but loud enough so you'd be heard.

you sigh gently, adjusting the bag against your shoulder so it sits comfortably. you can't believe you're actually here - waiting for matt rempe to let you inside jonathan quick's home. this morning when you woke up, you had an instagram message from matt - some corny text that pretty much asked for your number. which, obviously had your stomach swooping and as you gave it to him.

spending the past few days with matt has been really...pleasant. although you've literally known him for only three days- the amount of time spent together makes that feel like it's been years. you're pleasantly surprised with how nice, funny and adaptable matt has been with you. thinking back to before you met matt, you can't even fathom how silly you had felt leading up to everything- the nerves you had been battling regarding the week now seem ridiculous. and you hate to sound like demi, but matt's face is certainly a bonus to everything else - you also hate how that thought is beginning to make you feel.

you had spent a good amount of time today choreographing the mini routine with matt during your lesson. you wanted to make sure matt had a say in what was happening so that way you could ensure he was capable and comfortable with the routine. it all seemed to be going very well, and matt had seemed to really have a grasp of the routine.

so tonight when he texted you asking for some more help and practice - going as far to invite you to the quick's house where he'd be living for the upcoming season - you had been slightly confused. it wasn't like today was your only day for practicing the routine as all the skaters and respective nhlers had two hours tomorrow morning before needing to preform - that way it was fresh in their mind. so you'd been a bit unsure of why he wanted to have you come over tonight when tomorrow you could provide any clarity and help he was seeking.

regardless of those thoughts, you drive over to the house...ready to help matt practice your figure skating routine in a nhl superstars living room - yeah, what is your life right now. through all the disbelief and curiosity of the situation though, you did want to succeed in your partnership and win the kids votes with your routine, so you're happy matt was serious about it all.

the door clicks open, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter quickly. the idea of spending extra time with matt have the little bugs increasing in speed, sending your skin through joyful vibrations. matt smirks, leaning against the doorframe. "hey."

"hi," you breathe, adjusting your hoodie as you do so. matt looks so comfortable, clad in a black henley top and team branded athletic shorts- showing of the muscles he's put on during the offseason. suddenly you feel a bit sloppy - not even bothering to take your hair down from its scraggly bun before coming over. you chuckle awkwardly, "you called for me?"

your poor attempt at a posh accent lands, and matt's laughter is warm, filling your chest with its own hot feelings as he chuckles about your joke. "I did - wanna come in?"

you nod. matt opens the door wider, gesturing for you to make your way into the large foyer. immediately you feel out of place, the grand entryway practically the size of your living room and kitchen combined back home. it's almost completely silent inside, saved from the youtube playing quietly in another room. "this is really nice." you breathe out, kicking off your shoes beside the welcome rug.

matt huffs in laughter - a sound that's become way too familiar. from behind you, matt grabs the strap of your bag, his long fingers brushing your shoulder as he slips it off your arm. "I know right - i'm very lucky."

brushing off matt's touch on your shoulder, you laugh once, blindly following matt as he moves through the large space - presumably leading you towards one of what you assume is many living spaces.

"and who would've thought i'd also be getting lucky" you attempted joke quickly turns your face hot, the realization of what just come from your mouth has you feeling embarrassed. you slow in your steps, covering your burning cheeks with your hands. "wait, that came out wrong."

matt laughs over his shoulder, shooting you a playful glance. "you little freak." he teases, "I never would've thought the sweet, innocent looking girl who I first saw across the room in the meeting room would be such a little perv."

his obvious teasing and taunting smirk had you groaning with further embarrassment, dragging your feet as you make your way in his direction. "matt i'm literally dying here - throw me a bone at least."

matt's brows raise with surprise, and his laughter increases - like he's in disbelief. then, it hits you, another accidental sexual innuendo burning your face to an impossible shade of red. your mouth parts at a loss for words, and your eyes close to further your shocked state. "i'm just going to leave."

matt reaches out to you and he grabs your wrist gently, dragging you through the last bit of remaining space between you. the feeling of his touch has your eyes snapping open, you once parted lips snapping closed quickly. you stare up at him with softness and a little bit of shock- now closer than you ever could have imagined.

his bottom lips juts out - all wet and pouty as he slowly blinks down at you. "don't leave - I need you here."

you swallow nervously and automatically your breathing quickens in space. matt's words are sitting heavy in your ears and millions of thoughts about his soft confession swirl around your head. softly, you question his words. "you need me here?"

matt's pout transforms into a gentle smirk and his eyes squint at you questionably. you can see the teasing comment brewing from a mile away. "yeah because I want to go over our routine - get your mind out of the gutter, y/n."

"oh my god." you sigh, your eyes rolling playfully as matt begins to giggle to himself like a school boy. you shake your head in admirable disbelief, "you're such a-"

matt interrupts, "an amazing and perfect guy?"

"little shit." you correct, quirking a brow upwards in his direction.

"whatever you say ma'am," matt sing songs, his grip on your wrist tightening ever so slightly, guiding you in the direction of the living room - babbling how if you keep making unnecessary sexual comments he'll never get to learning the routine properly.

all you can do is hide your growing smile and blush while his back is turned.

matt knows the routine like the back of his hand. you show him solo once before you make him join in - and he almost perfectly execute his moves. it slightly furthers your confusion about him asking for extra help from earlier, but you brush those thoughts away. you get about 30 minutes of practice in and although neither of you are on ice skates, it's still a successful practice -  matt is moving as if there was a set of blades beneath him.

it isn't long before matt is sighing dramatically, taking a break from twizzling - he just about had carpet burn on the soles of his feet from the friction. he takes a messy gulp of water, the sound of plastic crinkling echoing through the empty house. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, "okay i'm beat - I gotta save the rest of my energy for tomorrow."

you laugh softly, quirking your head as you eye him. "I think you've got enough energy built up to last for the rest of your life."

"yeah yeah," he dismisses your teasing remark with a smile, hand waving you off. "wanna watch a movie or something?"

you eye him, "a movie?"

he nods, completely unfazed by your doubtful tone. "yeah - ever heard of one?"

you ignore his blatant teasing, your eyes flickering towards the large rustic clock hanging above the kitchen nook - directly across from the large family room.  "are you sure?" you question, wide eyes darting between the time and matt's awaiting face, "it's almost 8...I don't want to intrude."

matt scoffs gently, like he was disgusted that you'd even think that. his lips tug upwards in a soft smile, spinning his water bottle between two fingers like a basketball would. the sight of him toying with the plastic bottle is a momentary distraction, and you find yourself watching his long fingers like a weirdo.  "I like spending time with you - so yes im sure."

matt's words have you looking away from his hands, and you find his soft stare even more distraction than his fingers.

oh.

"you do?" you question meekly, gently fiddling with your hoodie once again. your nerves are growing once again, but this time they're purely because of matt and his borderline romantic confessions. that combined with his eye contact, and constant teasing smile have you feeling rather giddy.

he nods like it should be obvious to you and then he just starts to just walk away - gesturing for you to follow him with a simple nod of the head over his large shoulder.

you're not sure what you were expecting from matt's bedroom, but you don't think it was what you were seeing. it was just so...homey. it's in the basement of the quick house - which was obviously a ridiculously nice and expensive looking spare room.

the room has clearly had a woman's touch, with elegant decor and furniture, but matt had definitely made his mark around the space. his laundry is spread out on the floor near the hamper - not in it and there are a couple miscellaneous knickknacks on top of his bedside table and the tall dresser in the corner.

he's got a pair of wireless beat headphone's hanging off the corner of a picture frame - an image of him and his mom staring back at you. his bed is made, but it's still messy with a throw blanket pulled astray near the top of the bed and pillows squished together - looking like that's where he'd been lounging before you got here.

there's a few hockey sticks sitting up against the closet door and -

"are you going to come join me over here or am I just going to pick the movie all by myself?" matt's annoying teasing question has your eyes falling in his direction. you blush at how entranced you had been by his bedroom - reminding yourself of a 13 year old girl who is in her crushes space for the first time.

to further his point, matt pats the empty side of the bed, beckoning you over with the hand that wasn't holding his remote. in your snooping daze, you'd completely disregarded matt getting comfortable in his bed and turning on the tv -further illuminating the room.

"i'm not a dog," you giggle, making your way over to him despite your attempt at sounding annoyed. you climb into his rather large collection of blankets, burritoing yourself between them. your limbs immediately thank you as they finally have a chance for relief. "and if you think i'm letting you pick a movie you're certainly wrong."

matt gets himself into a more comfortable position, resting his head on his arm as he scrolls through the options on netflix. he turns his head towards you leisurely, and the pillows puff at the movement. "and why's that?"

you shrug gently, eyes meeting his. "you'd probably pick like...slapshot or something that I don't want to watch."

he laughs softly. "and your pick would be better?"

immediately, you hum with confidence. "absolutely it would."

his brows raise and he silently challenges your claim. "okay and what movie would that be?"

naturally, your eyes flat back towards the tv screen - the small collection of movies matt had stopped on mid scrolling staring back at you. there's nothing that initially catches your eye, but right at the end of the list there's one film that nobody could resist.

"pitch perfect," you state, looking back towards matt. his eyes are still on you and his face expression is soft. you clear your throat gently, and your eyes flicker. "not only is it actually funny, but it's a unique story with friendship and romance - there is truly nothing better. it's probably my favourite." you weren't lying, it was one of your favourite movies. something about the film had always held such a special place in your heart, and you couldn't never ignore it when you saw it.

matt could tell you were passionate about the movie franchise based solely on the way your eyes flickered as you talked. he's seen that look on you before - anytime you laughed at his jokes or when you were skating it made an appearance. matt shrugs nonchalantly and clicks the play button. "i've never seen it."

your eyes widen with surprise, "really? matt oh my god." the lighting from the movie's opening scene is shining on you, illuminating both of your flushed faces in the dim bedroom. "well thank god I saw it on there."

"thank god," matt mimics you teasingly. "now quiet down i'm trying to watch the movie."

you laugh into the pillow you'd stolen earlier, trying your best to focus on the movie playing and not matt's side profile - but it proves to be rather difficult.

unfortunately, it's not long before your eyes start fluttering, the long day catching up to you. soon enough, you feel them properly close and you're not strong enough to fight off the much needed sleep.

matt feels a gentle pressure on his shoulder, and he finds that your head has gravitated towards him in your sleep. the sight of your rosy cheeks and puffy lips have him smiling fondly, doing his best at staying still to ensure you would be well rested for tomorrow - he'd make sure to wake you in the morning with plenty of time for you to get ready.

slowly, his eyes flicker back towards the movie that he's obviously seen many times before - he grew up with three woman in the house for gods sake. he just couldn't disappoint that sparkle in your eyes.

— Day 4

you wake up groggily at first, eyes squinting through the unfamiliar bedroom. you focus on the hockey sticks against the wall and feel the warmth of a body next to yours and soon you come to - finally recalling your whereabouts.

you sit up quickly. "oh my god I fell asleep." you sigh, hands panic searching through the blankets in a desperate search to find your phone. in your peripheral, matt hold's out your phone - and you don't miss the teasing look he gives you with it.

"I was just about to wake you up - wasn't going to let you be late." matt mumbles sleepily. he shoves your phone into your hoodie pocket before you have a chance to take it from his hand.

you jump out of bed hurriedly, fixing your disheveled messy bun as you do. his comforting words fall on deaf ears, and you feel panicked. you can feel your heart reaching and the adrenaline pumping through your body. "i've got to shower and then I have to make sure i've got my preforming clothes ready - oh gosh, I also was supposed to text shay and help her go over a move for her routine and-"

"hey," matt says gently, gently taking ahold of your biceps - grounding you. you didn't even notice him get out of bed, as you were too busy going over the endless notes app you had curated in your head. his thumbs stroke against your skin soothingly, distracting you from your moment of anxiety. "I made sure you'd have enough time for anything like that, okay? and look I don't even need to wake you up, so you've got a few extra minutes to spare. you're okay."

you nod at his reassuring voice and for the first time since waking up in a state of confusion and panic, you feel like you can breathe properly. "okay," you smile gently, allowing a much needed exhale to escape from your heavy lungs. "i've gotta go now."

matt releases his comforting hold on your arms, shuffling backwards a few steps to give you some space. although you definitely weren't opposed to his presence so close, you now didn't have to crank your neck upwards to look at him properly. "okay," matt responds, running a hand through his sleep disheveled hair.

"thank you!" the relief you feel in that moment is like nothing else, and you finally let yourself smile properly. although, you still feel rushed thinking about everything you needed to do in the next two hours. you're just thankful matt was planning on waking you with enough time to spare. you're overcome with gratitude for matt's kind gestures spanning over the last 24 hours and you can't help yourself from showing it. quickly, you dart up on the tips of your toes, placing your hands on matt's thick chest for balance as you reach up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

matt's eyes widen with surprise, and an amused smile tugging at his mouth at your action. he looks down at you softly, but you don't catch it, too rushed in gathering yourself and heading out. "i'll see you later!"

you're out of the quick's house faster than your feet can handle, and you make it to your rental car parked in the long oval driveway in record time.

it's not until your driving away, gracie abrams voice soothing you over the radio as you turn onto the road does your brain catch up to your own actions. your mouth falls in shock.

you had kissed matt. on the cheek granted, but still. you curse yourself, holding a hand to your forehead to try and calm your rapid heart and burning skin.

-

nervously, you knaw on your thumb - nibbling on the skin around your nail bed until it becomes uncomfortable. the metallic taste on your lips is a momentary distraction from your own frantic brain. you can't stop thinking about matt - more specifically, the kiss you had smacked onto his cheek as the sun was rising.

your mind is reeling thinking about what he is making of your random burst of affection. is he weird out or uncomfortable by the kiss? did he care? did he not want to preform with you anymore? does he regret inviting you over last night?

it doesn't help that you're at the practice arena and matt hasn't shown up yet. all the other partners had been on time, and all of the skaters and respective nhl stars were already going over their routines. not you though - you waited nervously in the musky scented hallway, still tearing away at your thumb as you watched the doors.

you think that matt must be upset with you. he was late because the kiss had put him off and he was procrastinating spending time with you. your lips release your thumb and immediately you run the hand over your freshly styled hair, feeling yourself become somewhat emotional as you begin to pace the hall.

just as think to call it quits, pack up your stuff and just go home, the door swings open. matt walks in  looking slightly breathless, eyes heavy as he searches the area. he spots you rather quickly and begins to make his way over, an unreadable look on his soft features.

immediately, you start to apologize. "i'm so sorry matt! I shouldn't have kissed you - it was so rude and unprofessional of me! I can understand if you're mad at me or want a new partner." you ring your hands out nervously, eyes not once straying from his face - desperately trying to get an insight on his expression.

matt's eyebrows pull tightly towards the centre of his face, and he shakes his head confused. "what? i'm not mad at you."

you swallow, "you're not?" matt shakes his head no, and a small smile begins tugging at the one corner of his mouth.

still feeling confused and worried, you find yourself frowning, "then how come you were late?"

"am I late?" he questions curiosity, not intending to receive an answer. matt doesn't make an effort to actually check the time or anything, and he only shrugs with nonchalance- his always playful smirk growing. "I stopped at a coffee shop - do want decaf or regular?"

you blink. "what?"

he laughs once. matt puts the takeout tray down on one of the benches lining the hallway corridors, slipping the two drinks out from their respective holes. you hadn't even noticed matt had been carrying coffees until just now - when he walked in, you were too damn anxious to focus on anything. he lifts the two cups closer to you, "decaf coffee or regular coffee? I don't have a preference so i'm fine with either."

"decaf," you finally mumble. matt smiles, passing you the local cafes branded paper cup. you eye the lid, fiddling with the opening flap as you try and and attempt to collect your own scrambled thoughts. "so you're not weirded out?"

matt swallows his mouthful of coffee, "by what?"

you laugh once, tone full of disbelief. "I kissed you."

his brows raise, "yeah you did."

"i'm sorry I don't understand what's happening right now." you sort of laugh out - the confusion of the whole situation coming to a head. you press your hand to your forehead, looking towards matt through your lashes as you try and gauge his unreadable facial expression. you're not so much worried about him being angry with you now, because clearly that's not the case. he seems really casual about the whole thing, which has your stomach flipping.

"right now," matt takes a step towards you, practically pressing himself against you with his frame. his tongue slips out, wetting his bottom lip as he stares down at you. "we are having some coffee before heading out to practice our figure skating. we are also briefly discussing how you jumped me this morning and attacked me with a kiss."

his teasing and exaggerated explanation immediately has you feeling much lighter about the situation- your earlier panic dissolving. you gently scoff at him, and you can't think of anything else besides flicking him in the chest - a small punch of retaliation. "matt seriously I was panicked thinking I fucked this up."

he laughs gently, a shake of his head following suit. "no," his words are like a whisper, a gentle tone that kisses the skin of your face as he speaks. there's a twinkle in his eye, one that comes anytime he wants to push your buttons. "i'm used to your pervy antics by now." with his free hand, matt reaches towards you and fluffs your hair around, covering your face as he does.

you screech, the sound quickly forming into a giggle as you try and swat him away. it proves to be a difficult task without your vision and the use of both hands - your decaf cup still clutched tightly, liquid sloshing around as you squirm.

matt's laughter subsides and he slows to a pause - his free hand gently brushing any strayed curled hair back into its proper place. your vision is back, no longer impaired by the strands of your hair.

he swallows gently and you can feel his fingers tickling along your hairline. matt tucks some final strands comfortably behind your ear, fingers grazing the shell. your previous smile slowly fades as you watch him and his eyes that are solely focused on you. matt's hand doesn't leave the side of your face, fingers cradling your over cheek and against your ear.

you have never been so entranced by anybody like the way you are with matt. for god sakes, you've only known the guy less than a week, but there was something about him that felt so much like home - a safe space for you and your heart. it was almost scary how quickly you find yourself beginning to heal because of a man you barley know. but that's just it, you think, it feels like you've known him a lifetime.

"let's get to practicing," matt says reluctantly, pulling away from your body after stroking your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. the cool air of the arena replaced his warm embrace and you shiver gently. he places down his coffee cup beside the tray he'd earlier left on the bench, "I can see duclair's routine and it looks too good - we gotta beat him."

you breathe out with laughter, placing your cup beside matt's almost full one. "let's not forget the reason we are just starting practice is because you were late." you begin to walk with matt towards the rink, the icy scent filling your nostrils.

matt scoffs, "yeah because I got you a coffee." he steps onto the ice, immediately twirling so he's facing you. wordlessly, he helps you step out onto the ice, grabbing your hand.

"bribery will get you nowhere."

he snorts, "okay you better remember that when you try and plant another kiss on me-"

you yelp, hand coming up to cover matt's mouth before he can continue.

-

matt had absolutely blown you away. he nailed the mini figure skating routine, which not only made you feel good about your teaching abilities but also had you feeling proud of matt - his hard work and commitment to learning something new was admirable.

the feeling of finishing the routine was amazing in itself - but when matt had smiled brightly down at you before wrapping his thick arms around your waist in a hug, spinning you around (the perfect twizzle may you add) was just even more incredible. you don't even find yourself caring how the affection might look in the eyes of the camera or the thousands of fans who will be watching. you’re too happy with everything to worry.

once all the routines have been preformed, the little league team had decided that demi and dawson were the winners. although you were slightly disappointed with loosing, you heard some of the boys giggling about how 'hot' demi was and how cool it was that dawson knew jack hughes - so you weren't too concerned about your routine being lacklustre: the win wasn't decided on skill.

so although the kids didn’t declare you and matt the champions - matt's lingering touches and sweet grin had you feeling like a winner.

— Day 5

"we are not naming him rempire state building."

you pout at matt's statement and your arms tighten further around the gigantic duck plushie. "please - I love that name."

"it's not even a name." matt challenges, his laughter like a sweet melody over the rambunctious sounds of bells and coasters. he continues, "it's just my last name added onto a famous skyscraper."

you tut your tongue, "and that's just it - your last name." cradling the duck closer to your face, you rub the fluffy fur along your soft jawline. matt gives you an unimpressed look, but the smirk pulling at his lips contradicts his stare.

the wind picks up slightly, and a cool breeze comes - slipping between carnival booths and rides and sending a chill over your exposed skin. shivering, you hug the duck plushie closer, attempting to warm yourself up.

the goosebumps on your skin have you wishing you’d brought some kind of jacket. that has you thinking back to only a few hours ago, when matt texted you.

matt rempe

hey, beecher and drysdale wanted to take you, shay and emilia out to the carnival tonight for your last night in new york!

matt rempe

also as like a huge thank you for putting up with our annoying asses for the past week

matt rempe

please say yes to me or ill cry

y/n y/l/n

big baby

y/n y/l/n

i'd love to go to the carnival with you

matt rempe

i'll pick you up in 30

matt rempe

and bring a jacket, it's supposed to get cold

obviously, you forgot a jacket. the wind continues its gnarly sweep, and the summer night temperature drop has you thinking of fall weather. you subconsciously seak human warmth and you shuffle in close, tucking yourself into matt's side.

matt chuckles knowingly at your shivering. he picks out some of the fluffy cotton candy he'd be keeping in his hoodie pocket - letting the sticky desert melt on his tongue. "I told you to bring a jacket."

"I forgot." you're pouting again, tucking your face into the duck.

matt swallows the treat in his mouth, and his steps decrease in speed as he comes to a slow stop. wordlessly, he pulls off his black sweatshirt, and he holds it out to you. "here."

"I don't want you to be cold." you say timidly, your eyes darting between the article of clothing and matt’s expectant eyes.

"I don't want you to be cold," he laughs softly, furthering his gesture. "give me perv so you can put the hoodie on."

you eye him. the real reason matt didn't want to name your beloved stuffed duck that he'd won at one of the balloon popping games rempire state building was because he wanted to name it perv. immediately you expressed your disagreement- you were not naming the cute stuffed duck perv.

regardless, you hand him the duck in exchange for the article of clothing. the cool summer air has you further feeling chilled and you don't waste anymore time. you pull on the sweatshirt, and immediately your enveloped by the lingering body heat and smell of matt. "thanks."

he smiles, passing back the stuffed animal which you immediately begin hugging tightly once again. matt reaches into the pocket of now your hoodie, pulling out the bag of cotton candy so he can further snack as you begin to start walk along again.

"I think you should rethink the name perv," he pitches between chewing, his arm brushes against your shoulder as you both leisurely stroll the fairgrounds. "it's cute."

"it's not cute," you squawk, "it's quite literally perverted." reaching towards him, you reach into the plastic bag and rip off some of the blue cotton candy. plopping it on your tongue, your fingers become sticky as it melts, and you suck the crystallized candy clean off.

matt watches hazily and he swallowing thickly. clearing his throat, his eyes find the crowd infront of him once again, distracting himself with the busy grounds. "you're no fun." he says after a pause, and he side eyes you playfully with a smirk on his face. "just wanted to name it after you."

you laugh loudly and steal some more cotton candy from the mixed bag. "that makes it worse! why you insist on calling me perv is way beyond me."

suddenly, beecher throws his arm around your shoulders, coming up behind you with shay hot on his heels. it scares you momentarily, but you have no chance to scold him as john starts steering you towards the other side of the carnival grounds. "we're all doing that."

to accentuate his words, he points towards the neon lights of the laser tag sign. it lights up the dusk fallen fair - hues of green, blue, and red covering your body as john guides you towards the pop-up.

"oh god," shay all but whines from behind you, her feet dragging. "I suck at laser tag." she states once you’re all standing at the end of the lineup, her dark lips forming into a pout.

john's arm leaves your shoulders so he can turn towards shay - presumably to pester her about her lack of enthusiasm.

matt pulls on the pocket of your (his) sweatshirt, tugging you towards him and eliminating the little bit of space that was between you. you hold your breath with anticipation, letting matt practically manhandle you as he tucks you into his torso. he looks down at you with a playful expression, "you've played laser tag before?"

matt’s possessive handling from just moments ago has your adrenaline running and you’re not sure if you can form a coherent sentence. you shake your head no, glancing up towards matt through your dark lashes. clearing your throat, you ask, "is it hard?"

he smirks, "you'll be fine."

you're definitely not fine. you’ve since discovered that laser tag is not your forte, and to make it worse, matt got put on the opposite team with shay, emilia and jamie. you had beecher on your team, but he was no help. you haven't seen him since the beginning of the game when he started to run away from you - shouting about he had the perfect snipping spot.

the laser tag gun is heavier than you expected, and you keep having to dodge acne prone teenagers who have their sights set on targeting you.

the light up vest you have to wear is hurting your shoulders, the rough material rubbing against your skin uncomfortably with every move you take. the neon signs are providing the only light source in the space, and you keep have to squint to get a proper look at your surroundings.

for what feels like the hundredth time, you peek around the corner you've been hiding behind, trying to look through the shadows to make sure the coast is clear. you want to at least make it to the other side of the course before the game ended. a shadow dashes by, quick on their feet. you hold your breath, trying to stay still to not get caught. just when you think you're in the clear, the silhouette turns to you and darts behind your corner.

the lighting above adjusts, flashing a dark blue. you continue to hold your breath with anticipation and prepare for the stranger to shoot your target and eliminate you. the light moves over their face, and you can finally see them properly. instantly, you breathe out with relief.

matt's smirk makes your stomach feel warm as he looks down at you, his laser gun hanging loosely at his side. "how's it going?" he asks playfully. matt reaches towards your vest, teasingly tugging on the arm opening.

you huff with exhaustion and let the gun you’d be dripping for dear life fall to your side. "I haven't gotten a single target because i've been too scared to move - I don't think i've left this corner in 10 minutes. and these kids from your team, by the way, keep trying to find me."

matt chuckles lowly, his teeth igniting underneath the blacklight above. "I know - they keep talking about trying to get out the 'hottie'" he air quotes with his fingers, mimicking their words.

you pull an uncomfortable face, and a strangled whine passes through your lips, your eyes closing with a combination of embarrassment and annoyance. "i'm toast."

the sounds of running shoes stomping on the ground and children's laughter grows louder, signalling that they were getting closer to your hiding spot. your eyes widen.

quickly, matt wraps an arm around the dip of your waist and he pulls you against his chest. he spins you both around so that you're pressed further against the wall, deeper in the corner. you're both completely enveloped in darkness, and you can only make out the silhouette of matt’s features.

your mouth opens, but your words immediately dir on your tongue. quietly, matt shushes you with a playful quirk to an eyebrow, the top of his index finger brushing along your bottom lip to further his point.

all you can muster is a slow nod in response, as you’re too overwhelmed by the feeling of matt all over you to form any words. the way his strong chest flush was against your breasts, and his hips pushing against the pudgy part of your stomach. matt's arm is still tightly nestled around your waist, and he makes no move to change that.

you can only hope that he can't feel your rapid heartbeat or staggered breathing - the nerves you was currently experiencing were just downright embarrassing.

"this may be a bad time," matt's voice is barley audible over the sound of the post malone song playing over the speakers and the distant sounds of people laughing and talking. "but you smell really good."

you tilt your head farther back to and properly look at him. your chin practically presses to his chest as you do, reminding you of just how tall he is. "what?" you whisper meekly in question.

"all I can smell is your shampoo," a faint smirk appears at the corner of matt's mouth. "I can't help it, your head is right under my nose."

you were adorably struck, a little smile beginning to grow on your lips. "so what you're trying to say is you've been sniffing me?"

he huffs out a laugh, "no - it's just a strong scent."

you swallow gently, blinking slowly. between you bodies, your hand begins to tingle with numbness, and you slowly maneuver it out- pressing your palm flat shading matt’s stomach. you fight the urge to clutch the material of his soft shirt in your hands - wanting to grasp as much of him as you could.

matt jerks slightly, and his eyes meet yours through the dark. his adam apple moves as he swallows thickly, and you can feel his fingers flex around the softness of your waist.

you breath quickens, and you drop the laser gun to the ground. matt doesn’t flinch at the sounds, his eyes never leaving your face. now with your hand free, you let it slide along the side of matt’s torso, slowly tickling him with your nails. you need him in every way possible. you need his laughter, and his teasing smiles, and his touch, and you desperately need his kiss.

you lick your lips slowly, your tongue making sure all creases are moistened. “matt,” you whisper with vulnerability. this time, you don’t fight your own urges, and you let your fingers take whole of his shirt, keeping him pressed to you. “being with you is healing my heart.”

a genuine smile takes over matt’s face - not one of his slay playful or teasing smiles, but a real one. his eyes hold admiration, darting between your face as if he can’t decide which feature of yours to look at. at some point, he must have also abandoned his gun - the hand he was using to hold it now reaching towards your face. matt holds your cheek tenderly, thumb pushing some hair off your face and holding it to your ear.

“I see her!” the shrill voice of a pre-teen yells out from behind some faux rock structure.

matt pulls away quickly and bends down to grab his laser gun. it has you blinking hard, shaking your head to try and clear the fog that had clouded there within the last few minutes. your skin is on fire, and your aching all over. thoughts of matt now feel impossible to not have.

you lean down to grab your own abandoned gun. as you stand back up, you’re met with the familiar teasing eyes of matt, and he’s borderline laughing to himself. he’s got his laser gun pointed at you, the stream of red light directly hitting your target.

"matt," you warn, "don't even think about it." although you’re pleading, you can help the giggling that falls from your mouth along with your words. you can’t even form the thought of shooting him first, too wrapped up in the attention of right now.

matt cocks his head playfully, "think about what?" he questions you brightly, gun still aiming directly at your glowing vest.

you take off, running back out into the main area of the course. you can feel matt hot on your heels, and the adrenaline of it all has you shrieking in laughter as you try and escape him.

usually after such an intense moment with somebody, you were unable to shake off the shaking feelings and tension that came with it. but with matt, you’re immediately moving forward. the comfortability you’re experiencing with him is something you’d never believed in. honestly, you never really though friendship could exist in romantic interests.

if their was anything you learned from you ex, it was that relationships were meant for sex, lying, and deception. now you know that’s not what a relationship means and having trust, fun, and friendship is the only kind of relationship foundation you deserved.

— Three Weeks Later

opening your email to find a thank you from the nhl social admin team a week after arriving home was a nice surprise. the mass email was inviting you and the other figure skaters to an all expenses paid trip to new york, where you'd get to watch the rangers home opener.

the way your stomach flipped at the thought of seeing matt again was so sensational. you weren't aware that it was possible for you to miss somebody as much as you did him.

the morning after the arcade, matt has insisted on driving you to the train station after he helped you return the rental car. he didn’t want you to pay for an uber, and frankly you didn’t feel like it either. the goodbye hurt you, and you remember your throat feeling scratchy with emotions while he hugged you. matt had pulled back, momentarily eyeing your soft lips….and then the train started to board and you had to leave matt and new york behind.

your chest clenches at the thought, but instead of pain that had been tugging at your heart- it was beating for a whole knew reason.

you accepted the trip offer immediately and you were already planning on what you’d wear to your first ever hockey game - nothing to do with wanting to look your best for your crush…totally not.

briefly, you think about texting matt to tell him about the trip you’d be making, but you ultimately hesitate. you don't want to affect his play or focus in the rangers home opener. if all he can think about is you watching in the crowd, it could negatively impact his game. long story short, you’d hate to be the reason he feels overwhelmed.

you had texted shay soon after responding to the email invite, and she had excitedly told you she’d be making the way down from pittsburgh to be there. thankfully, shay was up to date on your ongoing feelings for matt, so the together the two of you brainstormed over text, ways to suprise matt.

your stomach was spinning with excitement for the remainder of weeks before you’d be with matt again.

—

hockey games were turning out to be more fun than you initially expected. the fans around you were all so enthusiastic and cheerful that you couldn’t help but join in. shay and you had been chanting and jumping for three whole periods. anytime the rangers scored the building became electric, and you understood why the players would thrive off that feeling.

like planned, with only 5 minutes remaining in the third and final period of the game, rangers leading 6-2, you opened the camera on your cell phone. first, you and shay smiled brightly for a picture, both of you wearing your blue and red rangers memorabilia. the second picture was the ice, capturing the players zipping around from 15 rows up the stands.

y/n y/l/n

*attached: two images

hey I think shay and I got lost? can you

help us identify this arena ??

the period ends soon after, and you and shay wait a few minutes for the majority of the crowd to disperse. then, using your passes gifted from the nhl social administration team, you both make your way towards the players tunnels.

your phone buzzes.

matt rempe

what?

matt rempe

are you seriously here?

instantly, you’re smiling and the butterflies fluttering around your belly increase by thousands. you lean back against the cool wall to keep yourself from buckling forward - knees going weak with anticipation.

y/n y/l/n

come out of the locker room and find out

a couple of long, antagonizing minutes pass before you see matt. he walks out of the locker room, appearing from behind the grand new york rangers branded doors. his eyes dart through the cluster of his teammates, their families and staff collected in the waiting area - eyes frantically searching for you.

like gravity, your eyes finally lock. instantly, your mouth morphs into a smile, and you push off the stone wall so that you're once again standing upright. you pocket your cellphone in your jeans back pocket, and your cheeks burn with warmth.

matt pushes his way through the crowd, apologies tumbling off his lips quickly as he rushes through the room to try and get to you.

shay mentions something about seeing you back at the hotel room, but you can’t even fathom her words. as matt gets closer to you, you can feel your body spin with excitement - it's all so different from anything you've felt before. it’s refreshing and feels just so right.

finally, matt gets through everyone and he finally reaches you. instantly, he grabs ahold of your flushed cheeks with his large hands. the smell of arena shower soap fills your senses, and your grin triples in size. the scent is so familiar- so matt.

he doesn't say anything to you, but he does lean down and connects your lips together. it feels so right. it feels like he’s the puzzle piece you’d been missing, or the feeling you’d get when you’d find your airpods after months of looking everywhere - kissing matt feels like decaf coffee and the rush of figure skating and the most beautiful song lyrics.

you didn't know kissing could be so pleasant. the way matt's lips caress yours and skillfully slip along yours have you melting into a sticky puddle.

you sigh into his mouth, and your own hands reach out to touch him. they slip into the opening of his his suit jacket, resting on the sides of his strong torso.

matt’s back is bent forward in a way that's borderline uncomfortable, and soon his upper back will start to burn from the strain - but matt didn't care. he had missed you so much…more than he's ever missed anybody in his entire life. the feeling was so unbelievably foreign to him, but he never wanted it to go away - never wanted you to go away.

your lips separate for a second, and you take the opportunity to catch your breath. you chest is heaving along with matt’s but that doesn’t stop him for almost immediately leaning back in - pressing two more much softer kisses to your glistening lips.

one of his teammates whistle teasingly in the room, but you can't even hear it - the only sounds in your ears is the pumping of your own blood, and matt’s breathy groans against you.

he pulls away and a slow, flirtatious smirk crawls its way across matt's flushed face. his thumbs gently run along the indent of your cheekbones, a soothing feeling contrasting your frantic heart. "I should've done that the moment I met you." he breathes the confession.

your laughter was a familiar and welcoming melody, dancing through the crowded room and filling matt's chest with joy. "that would've been ridiculous, matt." you tell him honestly, hugging his torso and resting your chin on his chest.

"yeah," he agrees with a playful gleam, "but that's how long i've been meaning to do it. I haven't stopped thinking about since the moment I saw you in the meeting room last month. when you left on that train, I thought I was going to fall to my knees in agony.”

his dramatics have you rolling your eyes, but you’re grinning nonetheless. “you’re such a-“

“little shit?” matt interrupts knowingly.

you shake your head, “charmer.”

the air between you turns thick once again. matt leans back down towards you, and he captures your mouth in another breath stealing kiss.

he pulls back an inch, eyes still closed as he rests his forehead against yours. “can I confess something really charming?”

you giggle. “oh god, what is it?”

“I don’t even like coffee - only bought two that day so you’d have options.” he smirks playfully.

“little shit.”

matt blows a raspberry to the space between your neck and shoulder, erupting a shriek from you as you try to escape his tickling lips.

you'd make the long distance work - you'd both work together to make your new connection work from different cities. although, you think it can't be too difficult. if you can manage to fall for a stranger with a broken heart, just imagine how much you can accomplish with a healed one.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[the-physicality]

when will the toronto L return from war?

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TEN ━━ The Introduction

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.9K

❀ ━ warnings: allusions to sex, alcohol consumption

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: hehe

IT’S FRIDAY, December 2nd, and UConn just annihilated Providence. Jo played out of her mind, as she always does. Of course, Paige is proud. Of course she is. But both her performance and the team win can’t really make this might feel like a victory for Paige to bask in. 

Currently, she’s standing in Nika’s kitchen, staring down at the cup full of Everclear in her hand. The liquid inside is dangerous, too strong for her, and yet she’s already downed three or four shots. She doesn’t even like it. In fact, she usually avoids this shit like the plague. But tonight, it’s the only thing she can think of to numb her, the only thing that might be able to quiet the anxious, suffocating storm inside her chest.

It’s almost laughable, really, how predictable she is. How every time Jo does something—breathes, laughs, smiles—Paige feels like she’s suffocating just a little more. It’s insane. They’re best friends. They’ve been living together since May. She’s seen every side of Jo—the silly, the serious, the completely ridiculous.

Well, every side except the one she shares with Asher.

Because Paige still hasn’t met him.

She’s seen all the pictures, of course—the one’s on Jo’s Instagram, the one that Jo has as her lock screen, the one framed in Jo’s family’s house back in Boston, the one perched on Jo’s desk in their apartment. She hears about him a God awful lot, too. She’s seen Jo text him, call him. She’s listened to Jo gush about him and their future while Paige is just… there. Watching Listening. Seeing Jo get lost in that perfect, fairytale love that Paige will never be a part of.

The rest of the team, on the other hand, have already met the damn boy. Back in October, while Paige was in LA rehabbing, he’d come up to visit Jo, and they’d met him. And, of course, they all informed Paige of how kind and charming and absolutely perfect for Jo he was.

And, tonight, it seems that Paige has finally met her dues. Because he’s coming to Ted’s with Jo, to hang out with the team.

Okay, it’s not that Paige wants to hate Asher. He hasn’t done anything to her, not really. She just doesn’t want to see it. Doesn’t want to see the joy and adoration in Jo’s eyes when she’s with him. Doesn’t want to see her look at someone else the way she’ll never look at Paige.

That’s why she’s standing here in Nika’s kitchen, holding the cup of Everclear like it’s a lifeline. She’s downed drink after drink, trying to numb herself before the night really starts. She needs something to take the edge off. Anything to make the world feel a little less sharp, a little less raw.

So, Paige reaches for the bottle again, pouring herself another cup, her hand unsteady from the alcohol already coursing through her veins. She doesn’t even care that she’s probably about to get way too drunk to function. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not when she’s about to experience first-hand the perfect, romcom, movie-like romance of Jo and Asher.

As Paige pours the drink, she doesn’t even hear Caroline approach. It’s not until the sophomore’s hand wraps around her wrist that Paige jerks back, spilling some of the alcohol across the counter. “Bro!” she exclaims, frustration creeping into her voice as she whips her head to glare at Caroline. “What the hell?”

Caroline narrows her eyes, and the look she gives Paige is one of irritation, not amusement. “What are you doing?” she demands, voice tight. “You’re gonna be wasted before we even get to Ted’s. Besides, you don’t even like this shit!” She gestures to the bottle of Everclear in Paige’s hand, her gaze pointed.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Nah, don’t do that with me, Carol,” she says, her voice flat and cold, the words rolling off her tongue like venom. “I’m older than you. If you wanna mother someone, go find the freshmen.”

Caroline doesn’t flinch at Paige’s outburst. Instead, she just rolls her eyes back, her expression practically dripping with exasperation. Then, with one swift motion, she gives Paige a quick shove on the shoulder, a mockery of affection that’s meant to get her attention but only serves to make Paige more frustrated. “No,” Caroline says, her tone laced with that same tired edge. “I’m gonna mother because clearly you need it!”

The words land like a slap, stinging more than Paige expects. Yes, she knows she’s not being entirely responsible, but also—when has she been? It’s sort of in her nature to be irresponsible, so she’s not sure how this is any different. But is is. And she doesn’t even know why.

There’s a long pause. Too long. It stretches between them like a chasm, and Paige can feel the moment hanging in the air like it’s about to swallow her whole. She thinks Caroline might be done. She thinks the conversation might be over.

But it’s not. Caroline is not finished.

“Look,” the brunette says, her voice gentler now, but still firm. “I know you’re, like, totally in love with Jo and all, but please, Paige, get yourself together.”

Almost instantly, Paige stills. It’s as if the entire world falls silent in an instant. The sound of her pulse fills her ears, louder than anything else. Her mind goes blank for a moment, and then the words slowly filter through. Caroline knows. Paige has been so careful recently to pretend, pretend, pretend. But Caroline’s still seen through it.

Fuck.

“Wha—? How did you know that?” Paige’s voice comes out high-pitched, more frantic than she wants it to be. She feels like she’s suffocating, like she’s about to drown in the truth that’s just been laid bare. “Did Azzi tell you? Aubrey?” The thought of anyone else but the two of them knowing, of anyone else seeing what she’s been trying to hide, is bad. It’s what Paige imagines standing in front of a crowded room, naked, while everyone stares at her would feel like.

Caroline gives her a look. “No, dumbass,” she deadpans. “I figured it out myself. You’re not very subtle.”

As if it were possible, Paige’s stomach seems to drop even more at the simplicity of it all. Because Caroline’s right, just as Aubrey and Azzi both had been. Paige isn’t subtle. She never has been. The way she looks at Jo, the way her face burns every time Jo smiles at her, the way she seems to track everything Jo doesn’t without even meaning to—none of it is subtle.

She groans, a frustrated sound that escapes her before she can stop it. She leans forward, her palms flat against the counter as she rests her forehead against the cool surface. She’s so tired. Tired of pretending, tired of fighting the feeling that never goes away. And now, with Caroline’s words hanging before her, she knows it’s probably only a matter of time before Jo figured it out, too. Before Jo realizes what Paige has been hiding, and everything goes to shit. Jesus Christ, she’s gonna have to transfer.

Caroline doesn’t let the silence linger for too long, though. “Okay, yeah,” she says, her voice softening a little. “I know it sucks. I get it.” She takes a deep breath, and Paige can hear the sympathy in her voice, the understanding. “And I’m sorry you have to see Jo with Asher while you like her. But, please, get yourself together. Because she’s so excited for you to meet him, and if you’re drunk off your mind when you do, you’re probably just gonna embarrass yourself and her. Do you wanna do that?”

Caroline’s right. Of course she is. Paige can imagine herself meeting Asher, entirely wasted, and saying some stupid shit that would have him grimacing at her and Jo flushing with embarrassment over the fact that this drunk girl before them is supposed to be her best friend. It would be wrong and selfish to do that. But it’s gonna be so hard to do it and act normal. She knows she swore she would take Jo in whatever way she’ll give her—and she still stands by that—but that doesn’t mean she has any desire to meet her boyfriend. Because she just doesn’t. She’s truly not sure she can. 

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she just stays there, head pressed against the counter, trying to will sway the stupid, hot tears that begin to form in her eyes. She can’t cry here. It’s fucking stupid.

Eventually, after blinking the tears away, Paige begrudgingly shakes her head. “No,” she mutters under her breath, the words barely audible. “I don’t wanna do that.”

Caroline pats her on the back. “That’s what I thought.”

PAIGE LISTENS. She’s being good. She’s only slightly tipsy, every so often taking sips of her Dirty Shirley. She’s doing her best to integrate herself into the team’s conversation around her, despite her uncharacteristic anxiousness. She tries to will her gaze to stop flicking toward the door. It doesn’t work; her mind is already rehearsing every possible scenario when Jo and Asher walk in.

“Aye, JoJo just said they should be here any minute!” Ice says loudly, reading a text off her phone. The rest of the team, half-fueled by the alcohol running through their bloodstream, lets out a few cheers.

Azzi, who’s across from Paige and who Paige can tell is almost entirely sober, meets her eyes. She title her head, giving her a look as if to say you good? The blonde gives her a tight nod. She will be good. She’s gonna keep it together, it’ll be fine. It’s just one night, one introduction. After that, she can pretend none of it matters. She doesn’t need to be anywhere near Asher.

But even as she tells herself that, her pulse begins to quicken, the seconds ticking by too slowly as she waits for the pair to walk through that door. And, when they finally do, it’s not the way she thought it would be. She expected her heart to sink, her breath to catch, but what happens instead is worse. Her skin tingles, and her chest feels too tight, like her ribs are being squeezed, her lungs struggling for air. Jo walks in first, her laugh ringing out across the bar like it’s some beautiful melody that Paige can’t stop hearing. And then there’s Asher, in the flesh, right behind her. His arm is casually draped over Jo’s shoulder, and the two of them look so natural, so right together that it makes Paige feel like she’s been hit with a sucker punch to the gut.

They’re happy. It’s blatantly obvious in the way they move together, the way Asher’s hand rests lightly on Jo’s shoulder, the way they share that easy, carefree smile, as if nothing in the world could ruin this moment for them. Paige’s vision sharpens, the edge of the bar blurring as the urge to shrink away into herself rises up like an overwhelming tide. She wants to leave, to disappear, to drink so much she blacks out and dies.

But she doesn’t. Obviously.

Jo and Asher head straight toward the team, where they stand in the back corner. Paige forces herself to appear nonchalant like always, her back pressed against the bar wall, her fingers gripping the edge of her drink. The others begin to greet the pair quickly, all laughing and chatting with him so easily and fast it almost gives Paige whiplash. Within a minute, he already fits in so seamlessly—and Paige hates if. She hates the way he’s making them all laugh, the way he’s charming without even trying, the way everyone seems to like him so easily. Things would be so much easier for Paige if he was just some shitty douchebag boy.

But then Jo’s eyes find hers, that smile spreading across her face, and all thoughts of the boy flee for a short moment. It’s that smile only for her, only for Paige. She’s reserved it.

Paige feels her heart leap, an automatic reaction that she can’t stop, especially with alcohol in her system. She doesn’t know if Jo can see it, the way her face softens at the sight of her, but Paige knows her smile is already in place, even if it feels a little strained, like her cheeks might crack under the pressure.

Paige watches as Jo grabs onto Asher’s wrist, pulling him so they’re both face to face with Paige. “Paige! This is Asher!” she exclaims excitedly, and it’s adorable, it really is, the way her doe eyes shine at Paige, twinkling.

With some effort, the blonde forces her gaze from Jo to the boy beside her. “Hey, bro,” Paige says, her voice coming out a little higher than she intended, but she doesn’t let it show. She forces the words out, the greeting she’s practiced a thousand times too many.

“Nice to meet you,” she adds. It’s a lie. Of course.

Asher nods, his hand extending to shake hers. It makes everything inside Paige write. He’s not just some asshole she can dismiss; he’s the guy who makes Jo happy. And in the face of that, what does Paige have to offer? Absolutely nothing.

“Yeah, you too,” Asher replies, his smile wide, genuine. Fuck, he really is likable. It makes everything worse. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Stupidly, Paige can feel her heart skip a beat. He’s heard about her. Jo’s talked about her. The thought of it makes her skin flush, and she glances at Jo, who’s standing just a little too close to Asher, her eyes sparkling. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, just enough for Paige to notice.

Hm.

Jo’s talked about her. Jo’s talked about her. It’s an absurdly stupid thing to obsess over, because, yes, it would only make sense that Jo has talked about her. They’re roommates, for God’s sakes.

But then, just as quickly, it all comes rushing back—the overwhelming knowledge that it just doesn’t matter. Because Jo has Asher.

Paige’s hand in tightens slightly around her drink, and she forces her smile to stay in place. “I bet,” she says, before gesturing to Jo. “She’s a yapper.”

Asher’s grin widens, and he nods in agreement. He glances down at Jo for a moment, and Paige can see the faint sparkle in his own eyes. It makes her sick. “Yeah, she is,” he chuckles. Of course he would know that. He knows everything. Certainly more than Paige (except how to make a girl cum—though, at this point, she supposes it can’t even apply to the situation). But he’s been there. For everything. Since the fucking sandbox days. It’s not something Paige can even remotely compete with.

She needs another drink.

JO SITS awkwardly in the booth at Ted’s, wedged between Asher and Paige. It’s not even that the space is tight—there’s room enough for the three of them, probably room for one more—but the proximity feels off, almost claustrophobic. She shifts in her seat, feeling the edge of Asher’s knee against hers, and Paige’s shoulder brushing lightly against her own. All of it—the heat from their bodies, the weight of their presence—is somehow making her feel small, like there’s no space for her in this conversation.

Asher, ever the extrovert, is holding court with Paige, talking on and on about college football rankings and how Penn State (where he goes to school) is sure to win their bowl game. Jo tries to listen and engage, but the topic doesn’t interest her. Basketball is far superior to football. But she still follows along, because Asher’s so into it, so excited to share his thoughts, and Paige—who, as usual, is completely unfazed by the world around her—responds with that ease that always leaves Jo wanting more.

Jo feels herself sinking lower in the booth, staring at her drink. It’s a cranberry vodka, something that feels sweet on her tongue. She takes another sip—maybe too quickly—and feels the alcohol warm her from the inside out. It helps dull the growing discomfort, but it doesn’t erase it. The tightness in her chest persists, a strange, insistent thing that makes her shift again, trying to find a way to make herself comfortable.

She doesn’t know why she feels this way. She should be happy. She should be enjoying this. After all, she’s the one who was so eager to introduce Asher and Paige, so excited to see her favorite people meet and get along. So why does it feel… wrong now? Why does it feel like she doesn’t belong?

It’s not jealousy. No, not even close. She’s fine with Asher and Paige talking. She’s good with it. She wants them to like each other. She’s been waiting for this, hoping for it. But still… the weight of their conversation feels like it’s too much for her to hear, even if she can’t articulate why. It’s the way they’re so at ease with each other, like they’ve known each other for years, and Jo feels like she’s just a spectator, stuck in the middle. Paige is talking about football like she’s always been passionate about it, and Jo wonders if she even really cares or if she’s just being her usual, charismatic self, making everyone around her feel like they’re the most important person in the room.

She doesn’t know why this feels so weird, so odd. It’s almost as if the booth is too small for the three of them, like either Asher of Paige needs to move out of it so Jo can finally breathe again. She just doesn’t get it.

Asher keeps talking, oblivious to the tension knotting in Jo’s stomach. She can tell he’s enjoying himself, that he’s happy to be here, happy to be connecting with Paige. He’s wanted to ever since he’s realized how close she and Jo are, not to mention the fact that he’s a big fan of Paige’s game—which, valid. And Paige, of course, is just as nonchalant as always. She’s good at this—at making people feel seen and heard, like she’s the only person in the room that matters.

Jo tries to keep her smile in place, but she knows it’s not quite reaching her eyes. Every time Paige laughs, it hits something inside her she can’t explain, some quiet ache. Every time Asher leans in closer to Paige, every time they lock eyes, Jo feels a small, gnawing discomfort in the pit of her stomach. Not jealousy, just… something else. Something she doesn’t want to name.

Paige’s voice cuts through her thoughts, and Jo snaps back to the moment. “I’mma go get another Shirley,” the blonde says easily, pushing herself up from the booth. Jo watches her walk away, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with the sudden urge to grab Paige’s hand and pull her right back. So weird.

Asher’s voice suddenly cuts through the murmur of chatter, causing Jo’s head to snap toward him. He’s looking at her now, his brow furrowed in that way he gets when he’s concerned. “Babe, you good? You been kinda, like… quiet?”

Jo forces a smile, the expression coming easy enough but feeling unnatural on her lips. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and she can feel it, can feel the way he’s watching her, sensing something is off. Why am I being like this? She doesn’t know.

“Yeah, let’s go dance,” she says, the words sounding too breezy. Asher doesn’t seem to notice, though, his smile brightening. He takes her hand in his, tugging her up from the booth.

They make their way to the dance floor, and Jo feels the heat of the crowd, the heavy bass that vibrates in her chest. She tries to lose herself in it, tries to let the rhythm take over. Asher’s hands find her waist, guiding her gently, pulling her closer as they fall into the music. She moves with him, tries to feel the warmth of his body, the comfort of being with him. It’s weird, though, because the steps feel a little too quick, like she’s trying to make her body fit the rhythm of something that feels off.

Her gaze drifts without meaning to. It’s not even something she consciously does, it just happens, as her eyes scan the room, taking in the crowd of people. And then, they land at the bar.

Paige is there, talking with someone Jo doesn’t recognize at first. But when she squints her eyes, trying to make sense of the redhead leaning over the counter, she realizes it’s Celeste. She watches, captivated for reasons she doesn’t understand, as Celeste leans in closer to Paige, her fingers brushing along Paige’s arm. Jo doesn’t really like that. She should stop watching.

But she doesn’t. And the longer she stares, the more that strange feelings gnaws at her. She can’t tear her gaze away, even though she tries. It’s weird and wrong, Jo knows, watching her best friend cook up her nightly fuck—because, surely, that’s what this is.

And then, just as if she’s been caught, Paige’s eyes meet here. Jo feels her heart skip a beat. Her cheeks instantly flush, her gaze jerking away from Paige’s with an awkwardness she doesn’t understand.

Bur when she dares to glance back, she finds Paige still looking at her, her gaze steady, unwavering. There’s something about the way Paige is staring, like she’s waiting for Jo to react, to do something, anything. Jo feels herself shift uneasily under that gaze, her skin heating as though she’s been caught in something she shouldn’t have been.

She looks away again, closing her eyes briefly as she tries to focus more intently on the movement of Asher’s hands on her hips, on the way he’s leading her in a slow circle. She tries to focus on the feel of his body close to hers, tries to drown out the memory of Paige’s eyes. But Jo’s thoughts are all scattered, her focus slipping like sand through her fingers.

The music changes, the beat shifting, becoming more sensual, slower. Asher leans in closer, his lips brushing against Jo’s ear, and he whispers in that low voice that always makes her shiver, “You wanna go back to yours?”

Jo nods automatically, because, yes, she really needs to leave this place.

As they move through the crowd, heading for the exit, Jo sneaks one last glance at the bar. She’s hoping for something—she doesn’t even know what—but Paige’s attention is elsewhere, focused on Celeste now. Jo feels a pang, but it’s fleeting, and she brushes it off with a shrug, tightening her grip on Asher’s hand.

“I’MMA GO get another Shirley,” Paige says, pushing herself out of the booth before either Jo or Asher can respond. She’s already halfway out by the time the words fully register with them, and she doesn’t wait to hear what they might say. For obvious reasons, talking to Asher has drained her. They’ve been going on and on about football, and it just got to a point. Not to mention the fact that Jo was between them, the whole right side of her body pressed against Asher, his arm casually slung over her shoulders.

Paige tries not to think too hard about it. She’s fine. She’s so fine, in fact, that she decides she needs another drink.

The bar is crowded, but Paige carves her way through the bodies easily. She leans against the counter, resting her forearms on the sticky surface as she flags down the bartender. She orders another Dirty Shirley, and then a shot of tequila because, well, it’s just one of those nights.

Paige exhales and lets herself sink into the moment—the crowd, the pounding bass of the music, the buzz of alcohol in her system. She tries to think about anything but the happy couple she’d been forced to hang out with for far longer than she’d planned.

Her drink arrives, the tequila shot placed next to it. She picks up the shot glass without hesitation, throwing it back quickly. The burn hits her immediately, sharp and biting, but she welcomes it. She needs it. The glass clinks against the bar as she sets it down, and she picks up her Shirley, sipping it to chase the tequila’s lingering heat.

“Hey, P,” a voice says from beside her, catching her off guard.

Paige turns, her brown furrowing for a split second before her expression smooths out. It’s Celeste. Of course.

“Hey,” Paige says casually, as if the sight of the redhead doesn’t throw her a little off balance for a moment. She’s not surprised Celeste is here—she’s always around. She’s also not surprised when Celeste slides closer, her lips curving into a smile that Paige knows all too well.

“You celebrating the win?” Celeste asks, her voice light, flirtatious. Paige has to give her credit, if she’s honest, because, really, this girl never gives up, no matter how hot and cold Paige is.

And, if Paige is even more honest, Celeste looks good. Better than good. She’s wearing some kind of black corset top that pushes her tits up in a way that’s impossible not to notice, her bright red hair perfectly blown out, and her makeup flawless even in the hazy lighting of Ted’s.

“Something like that,” Paige replies, her words accompanied by a small shrug. She takes another sip of her drink, letting the alcohol settle over her like a warm blanket.

Celeste doesn’t waste any time. She leans forward, her hand brushing against Paige’s arm in a way that’s calculated. “You looked good on the bench tonight. I posted a couple shots that the cameras got of you,” she says lowly.

Paige nearly snorts at the words—you looked good on the bench tonight. That’s what she’s been reduced to, a pretty bench-warmer, too injured and useless to be anywhere but on it. But she doesn’t laugh. Because she knows exactly what Celeste is doing. And under normal circumstances, she might be annoyed—Celeste has a habit of getting too attached, of acting like there’s more between them than there really is. But tonight, Paige is a little drunk, a little tired, and more than a little tempted to let herself fall into the distraction Celeste is offering. She was already planning on fucking someone tonight, and Celeste? Well, she’s right here, looking like that. Why not?

So, Paige smiles, tilting her head just slightly, enough to give the redhead the impression that she’s been hooked. “Yeah?” she says playfully, teasingly. “Didn’t know you were paying that much attention.”

Celeste laughs a little, leaning even closer, and Paige can feel the way her fingers linger on her arm. She plays along, letting herself fall into the conversation, the push and pull of flirtation. It’s easier to think about other things.

But, of course, somehow, her focus still seems to slip.

Over Celeste’s shoulder, Paige catches a glimpse of the dance floor. Her eyes find Jo and Asher almost instantly, like she was looking for them without even realizing it. They’re dancing, their bodies close, their smiles easy. They look happy. They look like they belong together. And it makes Paige want to puke.

She tries to look away, tries to focus on Celeste, on the warmth of her hand still on her arm, on the sharp curve of her smile. But she can’t. Her eyes keep drifting back to Jo, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

And then, suddenly, Jo looks over. Their eyes meet across the room, and Celeste blurs into the background beside Paige like she was never even there. Paige should look away, should stop staring. But she doesn’t. Her eyes stay locked on Jo’s, rooted there.

But then Jo breaks the connection, her gaze shifting away, and Paige is left staring at nothing. She feels an idiotic pang, and forced herself to take another sip of her drink.

Celeste seems to notice, her head turning to follow Paige’s line of sight. Her eyes land on Jo and Asher, and she tilts her head as she turns back to Paige. “Is that Jo’s boyfriend?” she asks.

Paige nods. “Yup. His name’s Asher.” She forces her voice to sound calm and unaffected, even though saying his name feels like she’s choking on something too sharp to swallow.

Celeste hums slowly in response. She pauses for a moment, and Paige can feel her gaze, sharp and curious, boring into her. “So… you and Jo are, like, best friends, right?” Her tone is casual, but there’s something suspicious laced beneath it, like she’s fishing for something Paige doesn’t want to give.

Paige nods again, slower this time, turning her head to glance at Celeste. “Yeah…” she says, the word dragging out of her like it takes effort to say. She wonders where this is going.

“Well,” Celeste begins, tipping her shot glass back and setting it down with a faint clink. “I ask her about you sometimes, and she never really gives me a clear answer. I can tell she tries to be nice to me, but it doesn’t really seem like she likes me much.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at that, her instinct to defend Jo kicking in automatically. “Nah, Jo likes everyone,” she says, waving Celeste off with a dismissive hand. And it’s true—Jo does like everyone.

But Celeste shakes her head, her red hair catching the light. “I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully. “For a while, I kinda thought you and her were a thing.”

The words hit Paige like a slap, and she chokes on the sip of her Shirley she just took, coughing as she sets her glass down hard on the bar. “What—?” she manages to get out, her voice rough and disbelieving. Her heart is pounding so loudly in her chest she’s sure Celeste can hear it.

Celeste shrugs, her expression almost too nonchalant, like she knows exactly what kind of chaos she’s causing. “Yeah. I mean, I guess I just kinda got that vibe. But if she’s got a boyfriend and we’ve fucked a couple times recently… I guess I was wrong.”

Paige blinks at her, wide-eyed. “You definitely were,” she says quickly, the words tumbling out too fast, too eager to set the record straight. Her face is flushed, and she can feel the heat crawling up her neck. “We’re just friends. Nothing more. At all.”

The words feel heavy in her mouth, bitter and thick. They’re not a lie, no matter how much Paige sometimes wishes it could be.

She doesn’t miss the way Celeste studies her, her green eyes narrowing slightly, like she’s trying to figure out if Paige is telling the truth. Paige hates how exposed she feels, like someone on the outside—someone as far removed as Celeste—can somehow sense the mess of feelings she’s been trying so hard to bury.

She forces herself to take a large gulp of her Shirley, the alcohol doing little to ease the tightness in her stomach. When she glanced back at the dance floor, her eyes automatically searched for Jo, she realizes that she’s—and Asher—are gone from their previous spot.

Her gaze flickers around the bar, scanning the corners, but they’re nowhere to be found. Probably went to go fuck, she thinks bitterly. Even though she has insight now that Asher is basically terrible at it, the idea still makes Paige want to die.

But she doesn’t. Obviously.

Instead, she finishes the last of her drink, turning her attention back to the girl next to her, forcing her signature smirk back onto her lips. Jo’s gone, busy with him, and Paige doesn’t owe anyone anything.

She leans into the conversation, matching Celeste’s flirtation with her own, their banter growing looser and bolder with each drink they down. The alcohol is certainly doing it’s job, blurring the edges of her thoughts, making everything feel distant and less painful.

Unexpectedly, Paige ends up in Celeste’s bed. And, also unexpectedly, she thinks about brown hair and doe eyes during the entirety of it.

JO LIES tangled in the sheets with Asher, her head resting on his bare chest, his arm wrapped around her back. It’s around four, she thinks, and the world outside feels impossibly quiet at this hour, the kind of stillness that comes only in the dead of night. Asher’s fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along her shoulder, his touch featherlight and soothing.

The haze of the night has mostly worn off now—the alcohol burned away by time, replaced by a comfortable clarity that feels almost foreign after hours of noise and chaos. It’s just the two of them now, alone in her room, their breaths in sync, the moment easy and weightless and familiar.

Jo closes her eyes, letting herself drift in the warmth of his presence, but her mind doesn’t quiet as easily as her body does. It’s almost like something beneath the surges won’t let her fully settle. It’s not unease, exactly. Not suspicion. Just… something. A restlessness she can’t name.

“Okay, I gotta piss,” Asher says suddenly, breaking the silence.

Jo snorts, her eyes fluttering open as she turns her head to look up at him. “Way to ruin the moment,” she teases, though her voice is laced with affection.

Asher grind down at her, unapologetic as he shifts, moving to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Nature calls,” he jokes. He starts to stand, but Jo catches his wrist, tugging him back down for just a second.

“Put some clothes on first,” she reminds him. “Paige got back a little bit ago.” She’d heard the door open, the quiet shuffle of footsteps as Paige made her way to her room. It was probably a half an hour ago, maybe less, and Jo had listened, wondering how Paige’s night had gone, whether she’d been alone or gone back with the team or left with Celeste.

Asher groans playfully, leaning down to peck Jo’s lips. “I will, I will,” he promises, his voice low and warm.

Jo rolls her eyes but can’t help the soft laugh truth escapes her. “You’d better,” she says, swatting lightly at his bare chest.

He smirks before gathering his clothes from the floor. Jo watches him for a moment, her head propped on her hand, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself. He looks good, his hair messy, his lips still swollen pink from all the kissing. And he’s here—he’s always been hers. She knows she should feel lucky.

When he leaves the bedroom to disappear into the bathroom, Jo sighs and sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The cool air against her skin makes her shiver, so she grabs the first things she can find—a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from her drawer. She pulls them on quickly, then settles back on the bed, folding her legs beneath her as she waits for Asher to return.

The sharp buzz of a phone notification catches her attention, the sound loud in the quiet.

Instinctively, Jo reaches over to the nightstand, assuming it’s hers. She picks up the phone without thinking, the screen lighting up in her hand—and stops short.

The message isn’t hers.

Her heart stills in her chest, her breath halting for a moment as she stares at the screen. Without thinking, she presses on the contact, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling, unraveling everything she thought she knew in an instant.

She doesn’t notice the sound of the bathroom door opening, doesn’t register Asher’s footsteps until they’re right at her bedroom door.

And then she hears his voice, soft and unsuspecting. “What’s wrong?”

[ericshoney]

Forgotten ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Nick, Matt and Chris are home in Boston, which means you get pushed to the side slightly, resulting in them missing your biggest ice hockey game of the season.

Warnings: possible swearing, nicknames, mild neglect, reader is ignored by her family, shouting, crying, angst with a fluff ending.

a/n: I'm not saying that MaryLou and Jimmy would neglect/ignore their children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started the last time the triplets were home in Boston. You knew them being home was special and you loved seeing your older brothers. But it seemed when they were home, you were invisible.

You had turned sixteen a few months ago, around the same time the triplets came to visit. It was the last time you were really looked at by your family. Since then, all your parents seem to focus on is how Nick, Matt and Chris are doing.

You thought it was just because they were away from home and YouTubers, but they still focused on Justin a lot too, always texting and calling him, talking about him too.

It was just you they didn't seem to focus on anymore. The youngest Sturniolo. You told your parents stuff and it didn't seem to matter. You were also on your school's ice hockey team, but every time you mentioned it, the conversation would be brought back to the guys.

Nick, Matt and Chris were home now for a while, but you just went to school and when you got home, stayed in your room. You weren't really asked how your day was or if you wanted anything, so you gave up trying.

However, you had a big ice hockey match coming up. It was part of the championship within the schools and if your school won, you'd get a big trip to see the Boston Bruins play. You really wanted to win, since you loved the sport and your home team a lot, so you hoped with the trio home, you'd get at least one to hear.

You walked in from school and kicked off your shoes quickly, dropping your bag and rushing into the kitchen, where Nick, Matt, Chris, Justin and your parents were eating pizza. You looked and saw there wasn't much left, but luckily you had already eaten at school.

"Hey." You called.

"Hi honey." You mum called, something she really only did now.

"So I have some news! On Friday we're playing in the finals for the schools ice hockey championship, if we win, we get to see the Boston Bruins play at home!" You exclaimed excitedly.

"Sounds fun kid." Chris called, before going to fuss Trevor.

"Your all coming, right?" You asked.

"Oh yeah for sure." Justin answered.

"Okay, Friday at six. I got coach to save you all seats!" You cheered.

"Alright kid." Nick replied.

"I'm off to do some homework!" You added, before skipping off to your room.

That was the first time in a while you got a lot out of them. It made you feel happier and better, knowing your family was going to be there to cheer you on.

~~~~

When it came to Friday and half five, you were suited up in your gear, seeing many families roll in and take their seats. You looked over to where your family seats were saved, but nobody was there. You quickly sent a message in your family group chat, hoping they were on their way, but got nothing back.

"I'm sure they're coming, probably traffic." One of your teammates said.

You nodded, as your coach called you over for a pep talk. You really wanted to win and really hoped your family would show up.

But an hour later, as you cheered with your team, winning the championship and the trip to see the Boston Bruins at home, you looked over to where your family was suppose to be, to see empty seats still.

You felt upset. Angry and disappointed. They said they would be here and they aren't.

After a small celebration with your teammates, you shared your goodbyes and started to walk home. The team medal hanging around your neck made you feel slightly better, but not much.

When you walked into the house and saw your whole family sat around watching a movie, you lost it. You threw your bags down, your stick making a loud crash as it hit the floor. The tears fell freely down your face as you blocked the TV.

"Hey, woah what's wrong?" Matt called.

"What's wrong? What's wrong! Do any of you have an idea where I've been!" You shouted.

"Honey calm down, don't shout." You father said.

"No! I'm pissed! My team just fucking won the championship and none of you were there to see it! Next week coach is going with us to see the Boston Bruins play at home since we won! And what are all of you doing! Watching a fucking movie!" You shouted through sobs.

"Honey, calm down." You mum said, getting up to come over to you.

"No! Don't do that! Don't sit there and pretend it's all okay when it's not! None of you haven't bothered to actually see if I'm okay in months! All you care about is your sons!" You exclaimed.

MaryLou's face dropped and she felt the guilt instantly. She knew it was wrong and realised what she, along with your dad and brothers, had done.

You picked up your school bag and opened it, pulling out a certificate, throwing it on the coffee table.

"I also have had straight A's in every class for the past month, got an award for how well I've been doing too, but it's not like any of you care." You spat.

You placed your championship medal down as well before running up to your room. Your door slamming with a loud bang, as your family shared a look.

Nick grabbed your school bag and took some more stuff out of it, your mum went to stop him, until he pulled out a few more achievements of how well you had been doing in school.

"She's been doing amazing in school and at hockey." Nick said.

"Must be if she's getting all these achievements and the team won the championship." Matt mumbled.

"I feel terrible." Chris said, a frown etched on his face.

"She told us about the game, didn't she?" Justin called, making everyone nod.

"And we forgot to go." Your dad replied.

"What do we do?" You mum called, a few tears falling down her cheeks.

"Let her cool off for a bit, whilst we go to the store and get a shit tone of stuff to celebrate." Nick answered.

She nodded and the triplets left to the store, knowing they had to make it all up to you.

~~

An hour later, your brothers and parents had set up many decorations, got a few congratulation and apology gifts, a massive cake and ordered pizza, whilst you relaxed in your room.

You walked downstairs, thinking they had probably all gone to their rooms, only to enter the kitchen and see everything.

"What is going on..." You muttered.

Hearing your voice, your family turned around and saw you, giving you massive smiles and hugs.

"We wanted to say sorry, sweetheart." Jimmy said, kissing your head.

"Why? It's not like I matter." You responded.

"No honey, that's not true. We're sorry we got so wrapped up with your brothers and didn't take the time to give you what you needed and wanted." MaryLou apologised.

"We're sorry too, as your older brothers we should be looking out for you." Justin added.

"We wanted to make it up to you, so we got you loads of stuff." Chris said.

"Thank you." You said, a small smile appearing on your face.

"You can smile bigger than that, petal." Matt said.

He came over and poked your sides where you were ticklish. You whined and tried to move back, only for Nick to grab your waist and pick you up, running into the living room and throwing you on the sofa.

Your brothers ran in and started ticking you as your parents stood by and watched, smiling as your giggles and shouts filled the house, suddenly making the place feel more like home.

When the guys had decided you had enough, they let you up, laughing at your messy hair.

"We're really sorry we pushed you aside, kid, we promise it won't happen again." Chris said, holding his pinky out.

You smiled and hooked yours around his, making him smile. You had a good feeling things would get better from now on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[hockeybabe]

Don’t Chirp My Girl | M. Knies

Pairings: Matthew Knies x gf!reader

Summary: Pastrnak say some not so great things about you to your boyfriend and your boyfriend isn’t having it.

Warnings: pastrnaks a dick, protective Knies, swearing, pure fluff, making out in a car, illusion to smut

Word count: 879

Note: saw this and was like yes sir 🫡

Out of all the people for Pastnak to go after he had chosen your boyfriend. The two of you had been dating for almost two years and you decided, as this being Matthew’s first full season, you’d go to as many games as you could. 

When they got into the playoffs, you made it your mission to be at every game. You were born and raised a hockey fan, knowing every single thing from wrongs to rights. And for the past two games, the leafs weren’t doing what they normally did. Auston wasn’t playing tonight, which meant Matthew would have more ice time.

That made you truly happy knowing you’d see your boyfriend more on the ice. As of now, it was the third period, and the game was still tied at 1-1. Things in the playoffs were another level. They were more intense, and the players weren’t having it with each other.

From the glass seat you were at, you could see Pastrnak staring right back at you with a creepy look on his face. The whistle blew and before you knew it; they were playing. Your thumbs twiddled with each other as you watched the two teams battle it out. 

Swayman was able to stop the puck before it reached the net, allowing the refs to stop play and just like always, Boston and Toronto were going at it. However, this time it was your boyfriend and Pastrnak. Pastrnak was pointing over at you while saying something, making Matthew lose his shit. 

You could barely make out the words Matthew was saying, but you could see him push Pastrnak before saying, “that’s what I thought.” You shivered slightly at the look on your boyfriend’s face as the game continued. He’d never looked so angry at someone’s words. 

It was common for chirping to go around in hockey, it what caused fights. But it was also wasn’t uncommon for rookies to have their loved one's being called out. 

As the game made its way to over time you sat at the edge of your seat watching as John skated fast to Swayman, attempting a shot, but it slid past him and two players, leaving the puck all by itself and an open net. You watched Matthew skate up to it, flicking the puck into the net, and the sirens blazed. 

You shot out of your seat banging on the glass and give high-fives to the little leaf fans around you as the Boston ones flipped you off and said random shit, making a smug smirk grace your lips. You had followed Steph through the crowd as you both made your way to the team's tunnel. 

You watched as Matthew came out of the change room first with a smug look. He was happy, but in his eyes he was clearly annoyed. You sigh knowing that it’d be a long drive home. He had greeted all the partners before parting ways with his team. “He’ll get over it.” Max said to you before you followed him to the parking lot. 

“So,” you started. “You gonna tell me what happened?” You asked, getting into the passenger seat. Matthew only bothered to give you a grunt as he continued to drive to the apartment. “Jesus Matthew! Are you really not gonna say shit?” You cried out as his silence drove you crazy.

Matthew’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as his knuckles turned white. You couldn’t lie, the sight turned you on, but he was mad and with mad came silence and built up emotion. “Matt, pull over.” You told him, sternly. Matthew looked over at you before pulling off to the side of the road. 

You unbuckled your seat belt, climbed over the console and sat yourself in Matt’s lap, your back resting on the wheel. You took Matt’s face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “What’d he say?” You ask again. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He grumbled. “So what, you’ll bubble this anger up till Thursday and then what? Take it out on the guy! It’s fucking hockey, baby! Shit happens.” You cried out, hoping to get your words through his thick skull. 

“He said you’d leave me for someone better in the end.” He mumbled, making your heart stop. “I pushed him and told his to not start and he thought wrong for trying me.” He said, snuggling his head into your neck and placing a kiss on your collarbone. “Well, who the hell would be someone better?” You asked, making his head perk up. 

“Cause I’ve got the best guy I’ve met in a while. And he makes my fucking world.” You said with a big smile, making him smirk. “Oh, really.” He whispered, pulling you closer. You were pulled up into his bulge, making you whimper, shutting your eyes slowly. “Yeah, he’s got this goofy, uh, smile and he, um, he wears the number 23.” You breath out as he placed wet kisses on your neck.

“The number he’s going to ruin me in.” You moan. Pressing your lips onto his. His hands ran up your back, pulling you closer than possible. Your lips meshed as his tongue explored your mouth. “Get in the back.” He said in a husky voice. 

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, engineer, heavy, medic, sniper, and spy (i forgot demo i'm so sorry)

↳ warnings: bad translations, slight mentions of world war two and malpractice

↳ song: with a little help from my friends—joe cocker

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He would be so smug about it

• Puffing his chest out and everything

• His friends in the past- and even family members -have teased him for mispronouncing words or speaking too fast, and it’s made him a bit self conscious about the way he talks. But after hearing that you find it endearing, its a giant ego boost for him

• “Yeah dat’s right! Who’s awesome? I’m awesome!” Scout smiles as he flexes his arms in your face, subjecting you to what he likes to call a surprise gun show. You pretend to hate it as you shove his arm away, but chuckle all the same

• He’s already gloated before that he already knew his accent was the best. Boston is the greatest place in the world after all! But hearing it from you really just sent him over the moon

• Makes a point to talk to you a lot more now; as if he didn’t already

• “Yo! Hey did you see that kill out there? I totally messed dat Spy up! One wrong step and pow! He’s dead meat!”

• “I saw Scout. I was covering your flank while you did it, remember?”

• “Yeah yeah, but I just thought you’d like ta hear about it again.”

𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫

• Didn’t consider himself to have an accent until you pointed him out

• Sure, he says the occasional y’all and ain’t, but not enough to qualify as a whole different way of speaking

• It wasn’t until he dropped a hammer on his foot and cursed that he understood what you’d meant

• “What in the sam hill! Sweet hell!” He’d exclaimed, startled. Once the throbbing in his leg had subsided, Engineer replayed his words in his head, making a slight o with his mouth as he realized you were probably right. To some extent at least

• He was a born and raised Texas boy, so it makes sense that the culture rubbed off

• Doesn’t understand at first that you find it nice. Maybe he thought you pointed it out just because you could? He’s a bit distracted when it comes to anything but machinery, so he misses context sometimes

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲

• Surprised that someone like you who can speak English fluently finds his mannerisms attractive

• Gets frustrated sometimes when he can’t remember certain words in English. Heavy is a very smart man, so it aggravates him when he looks illiterate in front of his team

• That’s why hearing that you like his mother tongue caught him by surprise

• “But you don’t know any Russian?” He’d rumbled out as a question. When you shook your head no, still sporting a smile, his eyebrows furrowed further

• “Nah. But I like hearing it when it comes from you. It sounds more natural. Like you’re more comfortable than normal, you know?”

• You’re technically right. When Heavy slips into Russian, often whilst talking to Sasha or simply forgetting that not everyone on the team know how to speak it, he is more comfortable in his words. They flow better, and he’s flattered that you’ve noticed

• One hundred percent offers to teach you Russian in his spare time. He finds it slightly adorable how you stumble over words in your broken translations, but always manages to softly correct you

• He’s a really good teacher

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Positively thrilled that you like his voice

• When you tell him for the first time, he goes into shock for a moment before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve seen. Somehow its a perfect balance between excited and malicious

• “Do you hear zhat Archemedies? Mein freund here enjoys my accent!” He cooes at his bird, chuckling in a way that would make anyone’s insides squirm

• Once you look past Medic’s initially devious reaction, it’s very clear he enjoys knowing this

• If anything, the ex-doctor would have thought that you’d enjoy the more stereotypically romantic sounding languages. Spanish, Latin, etc

• German has always been considered harsh or scary sounding, and it turned a lot of people away from hiring him after the events of World War Two, which he understood. Still, Medic finds himself absolutely tickled that you are drawn to his accent

• Finds himself slipping more and more into German while doing checkups on you now. When he catches himself, he translates most of what’s he’s said back to you. But sometimes he’ll simply forget, and it leaves you wondering if he’s offered you a glass of water or the opportunity to swap your bladder out

• You sincerely hoped it was the former

𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

• Oh my god you killed him

• Sniper is very reserved. Living in his camper, hunting his own game for dinner instead of joining the others, literally pissing in jars, etc etc

• Being a man of few words comes part and parcel with that; which normally works out just find because Scout talks enough for ten people

• Hasn’t said much to you before. He mostly communicates in head nods or slight tilts of his coffee mug in your direction. Maybe a few ‘good mornin’s’ tossed around, but nothing more than that

• “You know, you should talk more.” You’d said to him one day while pouring a fresh pot of tea you had just boiled into your own mug. He preferred black coffee himself, but whatever floats your boat

• “You voice.” You elaborated after a sip. You must have noticed his confused look as you carried on. “It’s nice. Can’t imagine that you don’t have gals throwing themselves at you all the time because of it.”

• Suddenly very grateful he wasn’t drinking any of his brew at the time, because what you said surely would have made him choked

• He, in fact, had had a few ladies approach him in town before saying something along the same lines. Even a few fellas. But nothing made him blanch this strongly like you had

• Excuses himself as he walks out of the room suddenly, tilting his hat down to cover his face no one can see the furious red tint forming

• Sniper leaves you in the communal kitchen. Holding a steaming cup of liquid and looking very confused

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• Already knew before you told him

• To anyone else, it would have been passible as just curiosity. But Spy’s job is to know things, and it is an undeniable fact that you found his voice attractive

• Doesn’t utilize this weapon often. You are not a weak willed person swayed by just a few words, so when he needs something he pulls out all the stops

• Of course, that doesn’t stop him from being impressed when you eventually admit your little not-so-secret-secret to him. And of your own free will. He didn’t have to pry it out of you, which was a feat on its own

• Much like Heavy, he extends the offer of teaching you how to learn his language. Now that he no longer has this knowledge as a bargaining chip, he might as well seize the opportunity to teach you a proper language

• Considers using electroshock therapy to condition you faster, but nixes it pretty quick

• Again, like Heavy, he finds it cute how horrible you are at French. More amused than anything, but he can appreciate the way you practice verbs in your free time even when he isn’t leaning over your shoulder

• That you know of, that is

• Praises you often in french, letting excited phrases slip when you nail a particularly hard set of words

• “Merveilleux ! Tu t’améliores beaucoup, ma petite. Encore une fois.”

• While you don’t understand the full extent to his words, you smile and continue on, eventually realizing what he had said later in a fit of embarrassment