#c.hart: angst

[queeniewriteshockey]

can i get a sad carter where hes crying and having a panic attack after a game and you have to calm him down, thank you in advance girly! also love your writing!!

Warning: Panic AttackWord Count: 1866

You’d missed the game but you’d heard about it. You wished you could have been there, but you’d been called into work on your day off and couldn’t say no to your manager. Luckily you hadn’t had tickets wasting away in your pocket. You’d simply planned on sitting at home and watching the Flyers on TV. It was hard, though. Going into this particular game. The Flyers had hit another losing streak, five and counting. Carter was in the goal for three of the five and you could tell that it was starting to wear on him. 

It wasn’t his fault, not really, but you understood the stress. He was a goalie, after all. The shots he let in ultimately decided the game. Even when he only let in one goal, if he own team couldn’t find the back of the net, the loss fell on him. You’d watched this happen time and time again in the last few games. Carter let in one maybe two goals, but for the life of the team, they couldn’t score. Which meant losses. 

The last game you’d been in the stands for, you’d watched Nolan throw an absolute fit at the end of a game. He’s scored, it would have tied the game up. Only it didn’t count. The replay had shown it was an offside goal and they’d reversed the call. He hadn’t been the only one pissed off about that. You could see the frustration on everyone's faces, not just Nolan’s.  

Tonight’s game had been equally as brutal from what you had heard. You’d kept up with the score on your phone, but each goal Carter let in made your heart sink and your insides twist. At the second intermission, it was 4-0 them and you decided not to check on the game again. It was stressing you out and you were at work. You could only imagine what the boys were going through. 

When the game ended, and you heard the final score, you knew you had to get home. You knew, with every bit of you, that Carter wasn’t going to be taking this loss well. It was one thing to lose by a large margin. You could see that one coming and you knew what to expect, but it hadn’t been a large margin. The game had ended at 4-3 and that one goal Carter had let in had been the game-deciding play. 

You didn’t know what to expect when you got home. He wasn’t prone to anger, but you’d seen it before from him. He was so mild and calm, so level headed, that the one time you’d seen his anger flair, you’d been so shocked all you could do was sit there in silence and watch. It had come after he’d been pulled from a game the first time and you completely understood why it had morphed the mild-mannered man into something more akin to Nolan’s rage monster. 

Walking in the door, initially, nothing seemed off. Nothing was out of place, everything was quiet. You could hear the water running in the master bathroom, but it was faint from the living room and figured Carter was just washing off the game. Sometimes a hot shower was the best recipe for that. You made your way to the kitchen for a drink and grabbed a snack on the way out. 

“Hey babe,” you called as you set down the drink on the side table and finished your food. There was no reply from the bathroom, but the door was open. You figured he hadn’t heard you over the water running. You decided to poke your head into the bathroom, to say hi and make sure he knew you were home. 

The cheerful greeting you’d expected to give him died on your lips when the sight of him met your eyes. The large glass shower stall in your bathroom left nothing to the imagination, though often it was fogged over with the steam of the water. There was no steam to the water, no warmth in the bathroom and the sight that met your eyes made your blood run as cold as the water in the shower. 

“Carter,” you said quickly, pushing yourself into the bathroom and over to the shower. He was sitting, naked on the floor of the shower, water running down his face, eyes empty and unseeing. Fear pulled at your mind, worry and horror filled your heart. It was all you could do to reach in and turn the fridged water off, to at least stop the barrage of ice from flowing. 

His eyes blinked once. Twice. Three times before his head tilted up in search of what had suddenly changed. He couldn’t really see, his eyes unfocused on the here and now. All he saw was the scoreboard. The loss. The anger from the stands and the fans. He could hear the fans jeers in his head. The ones screaming that he sucked. That he needed to be pulled from the game. A few telling him to go back to the AHL. He wasn’t good enough to be pro. 

His hands came up to cover his ears, to block out the noise of the angry crowd and he closed his eyes. He needed to get away from the game, away from anger. It was all his fault. He’d let the goals in and they’d lost. Because of him. Six games. Six straight games. Four them his fault. Maybe they were right, maybe he did belong back with the Phantoms. Or maybe. Maybe he should hang the whole thing up. Walk away and do something else with his life. 

The thought tore through him like a muscle tearing from bone. It left him gasping for breath, the pain of the idea strangling him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. He just watched as the life he’d worked to build crumbled in his hands. He was insignificant, standing on an empire made of sand. He was helpless to stop the tide as it rolled in and washed him out to sea. 

“Carter!” 

Warmth touched his skin for a moment, shocking him like electricity to his heart. Forcing him to focus his eyes a little. 

“Carter, hey, I need you to look at me.” Your voice was panicked as you spoke but you saw, the second his mind came back to you and your sighed. You expected to see a bit of his anger, but this… this was a completely different side of Carter, one you hadn’t expected or ever wanted to see. 

Tear tracks ran down his face where the water hadn’t hit his skin and it broke your heart to know that this loss had gotten to him so much so that he’d actually cried over it. He was always the first one to remind you that it was just a game, but even he had his limits when it came to losses. 

“Y/N?” He asked.

Hearing his voice, empty and hollow as it was, both made your heart soar and break at the same time. You lacked the ability to define the relief and horror you felt when he said your name. How many times had you heard him say it without having a reaction at all? Too many to count, that was for sure. 

“Yeah, it’s me, baby. I’m going to grab a towel. You need to get out of the shower.” His skin was even more pale than normal and there was a purple tint to his normally pink lips. He’d let the water run too long and the sub-zero temperature of the winter outside had not done wonderful things to him. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” He asked, not acknowledging that he’d even heard what you said about a towel. 

“It’s nearly midnight,” you told him, fingers running through his sodden hair, pushing it out of his face. “You know I get off at 11:30.” That meant he’d likely been sitting blindly in the shower for at least an hour. Your heart broke even more. “I’m getting a towel. I’ll be right back.” 

You let go of him, even if you didn’t want to. You knew you needed to get him out of the bathroom and warmed up, but the act of walking away from him was the hardest thing you’d ever done. You were thankful it wasn’t a long walk to the cabinet, you could keep your eyes on him the entire time. 

“Come on,” you said once you had the towel and were back over by him. “I need you to help me get you up. I’m not that strong.” You tugged at his arm, hands grabbing his wrists in an effort to spur him into movement. 

“Y/N?” He asked again. “When did you get home.” 

Concern etched your features but you didn’t give it voice. “Not long ago,” you told him. “A few minutes ago, maybe. Can you stand?”

“What?” 

“Can you stand? I have your towel, but you’re too heavy, I can’t pick you up.” You probably could, if you had to, but you wanted him to try on his own. You tug at his arms again and this time he adds his strength to the mix and you’re able to get him standing. You took your time wiping him off, ridding his skin of the water that had clung to him before you wrapped the towel around his waist and guided him out of the shower. 

“Did you see the game?” He asked, breaking the silence as his bare feet touched the soft bathmat on the floor. 

“No, I was working. But I caught the highlights.” 

“What highlights? The game was awful.” 

Your eyes flicked up to his and your face fell. The green, so mossy and beautiful was dull and empty. “Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, distracting him while you directed him out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. 

“No.” 

You had expected that answer. You were okay with that. “Okay,” you told him with a nod. “What do you say we get ready for bed?” 

He nodded in response, but you weren’t convinced he had it in him to get dressed. It fell to you to get him ready for bed. You didn’t might, though. Getting him dressed was easier than getting him out of the shower. All you had to do with slip a pair of boxer briefs over his legs and get him tucked into the cozy bed. When he was situated you took the time to get yourself ready for bed and then joined him. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, a shiver ran through your body the moment his cold skin touched yours. You placed a kiss on his cheek and molded yourself around him. “You’ll get ‘em next time, Babe. I know you will.” 

You finally let yourself relax when you felt his fingers thread through yours and the press of his lips against your knuckles. “Thank you for believing in me.” He said softly. 

You gave him another kiss on the cheek and bury your face in his shoulder. “I’ll never stop.” 

-Fin-

[this-is-ally-and-im-confused]

Wyws|| C.Hart.

Summary: dealing with a drunkbff!carter during high school. FYI it is legal to drink at 18 in Alberta. Based on the song “wish you were sober” by Conan Gray

Warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, pining.

Taglist: @cartahhart79 @snugglyducklingbrewhouse @hockeyboysarehot @quietblues

Nineteen but you act twenty-five now

Everyone was busy celebrating Carter. Since draft day–your once humble best friend turned into...someone else. It was frustrating to watch him as he mingled around his party with his chest puffed out.

Girls poured around him. Especially when mentions of his contract came up. When you looked real close at Carter you could see the smile didn't reach his eyes. His palms rubbed against the denim of his nice jeans. Now he smirked while girls were rubbing against him. It was all fake. Yet, there was nothing you could do.

Every time you went to talk to Carter, it was like you weren't even a person. So, you watched him throw back beers and flirt with girls. The rush of the party caused carter’s anxiety to change him. All you could do was wish he’d let you in. Throughout his life–you watched him carry pressure and burden. In previous times his maturity made him attractive. However, this maturity isn't real. You could see how it's a little boy pretending to have a clue on what he's supposed to do next.

The lights flashed around at him. The music was far too loud. This place wasn’t meant for you or Carter at all.

Eventually, you wander over to where he is standing with a group of guys that didn't make the NHL and girls that want to date someone in the NHL. If you squinted hard enough at Carter you could see his dad’s mannerisms mirror on to the boy. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck just like his dad. Carter tapped his toes as he listened in to the conversation. All you wanted to do was grab him, shake him, and tell him to be himself.

He was 18, not 25. Although, you're sure that no matter what words you say–it's a lost cause. The draft has gone to his head.

Save me 'till the party is over

Eventually, the people at the party filtered out. Carter was well past the point of tipsy. You watched him shrug off girls, “bro-hug” guys, and become polite enough to kiss his grandma and aunts on the cheek as they said goodbye. At some point in the night, you forgot that Carter was supposed to be your ride home. You wanted to call a taxi, but you also wanted to say goodbye to the shell of your best friend.

Which brought you to where you are now–standing on the opposite side of the room as his pair of blue eyes land on you. Recognition barely graces his face. It’s you. The same you that you’ve been since you met Carter, perhaps a little bit changed. Somewhere along the line, you weren’t a little girl anymore. Yet you still had a crush on your best friend like a little girl. It hurt. Watching Carter go off into the world pretending to be someone who he wasn’t–hurt.

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover.

Before you could stop it, Carter had pulled you out to his brand-new Range Rover. A gift from the draft. The sickening sweet new car smell made you want to throw up. And you hadn't even drunk.

“Carts, you are too drunk to drive,” you said softly as the boy gripped the wheel till his knuckles were white.

Softly, You placed a hand on his shoulder. He took that as the perfect opportunity to smash his lips into yours. You’d be lying if your heart didn’t immediately flutter. Every single year of your crush on him came back to you. However, you knew Carter had no clue who he was kissing, and it broke you.

“Carter. Stop.”

Thankfully, he listened. He pulled back at looked at you in confusion. The lines forming in his forehead looked strikingly similar to his father. It hit you just how much like him Carter was acting. You felt pity. Carter didn’t care for pity right now. He didn’t even care that he kissed you. You were just another girl–not his best friend since childhood. The kiss ended with you hopping out of the car and running home. It was a far walk, but you couldn’t stand one more minute of the artificial future that Carter was designing.

You didn’t look back to see the sweet boy sobbing. He just barely recognized how greatly he fucked up. It’s the pressure that’s hitting him. He can handle the stress of games or the stress of school–but not this.

He’s terrified of becoming a bust. You wish that it was like old times where he would talk to you instead of trying to go through it alone. Part of you wanted to turn around and scream at him. Release the venom of your feelings. You could tell for hours at how he reduced you to a stranger that he would kiss while drunk.

Hell, you knew you never would. Besides…your practically already home. Just now approaching your driveway.

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

When you got home–you were quick to take off your heels. You ran upstairs comfort of your bed–convinced that if you wrapped your blankets tight enough around your body then you could hide from the outside world. A world where Carter didn’t matter, the draft didn’t change him, and these feelings didn’t feel so real.

The kiss was sweet–it would have been sweeter if it was the ‘real’ Carter you loved. It’s clear that the crush you had on Carter died the same day of the draft. So here you were, mourning the loss of the Carter that you couldn’t get back. 

Your heart pounded as you heard a ping from your phone that was placed on the bedside table. You knew exactly who it was. Yet, you rolled over and decided to not answer the boy until you had sometime to think and that he decided to act his age.

[comphersjost]

blurb night!

i know i haven’t done one in a while and have been pretty absent on hockeyblr so i thought i’d do a blurb night ! fluff, angst, smut, whatever, there’s no theme today hehe :) [the only thing i dont write is pregnancy/kids stuff!]

send in whatever player but please understand that i may not write for them ! players that are explicitly banned: p.kane, e.kane, a.panarin, c.hart any of the recent usntdp boys/draft class, anyone from chicago, vegas, or LA. also a reminder that even though i have before i no longer write for auston matthews.

let’s get started hehe

give your thoughts or blurb requests here !!

[queeniewriteshockey]

Can you write an imagine or hc (It's up to you) where you are Nolan's girlfriend, and when Carter joins the team he has a crush on you

Nolan would not be a fan of this if he knew what was going on. 

My Best Friends Girl - Carter Hart/Nolan Patrick/Reader

Word Count: 814

Carter tries so hard to hide it. Because he knows it’s not really okay. But, to be fair, when he met you at the rink the first time, he didn’t realize you were Nolan’s girl. You were just a pretty girl in the hallway, waiting for practice to get over. He hadn’t really been around much and was the first one out of the locker room. He said hi to you out of habit but also because you were pretty and just kind of standing there. He asked if you needed help because he’d never seen you before and you told him you were just waiting for someone. He should have left but instead, the two of you struck up a conversation and like really got along. 

At least he thought so, but then Nolan comes out and wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him in a bit of a defensive and protective move. Which is not out of the ordinary but a little odd considering its in response to a teammate. He didn’t even respond that way when TK was flirting with you. Admittedly that was more to annoy Nolan than anything. Carter takes the hint and scoots out of there, he’s not playing a game with Nolan, he’s not that kind of guy. 

He talks to you a few times here and there when you run into him, but for the most part, he gives you a decent amount of space because he really would like to see his little crush go away. It gets to the point though that if you’re around he’s not and its starting to bug you. You liked him, thought maybe you could be friends but he’s like actively avoiding you. What are you 5? This is ridiculous. 

Even Nolan is noticing Carter’s unwillingness to be around when you’re around and that really PISSES him off. He doesn’t catch Carter’s glances at you when no one is looking. He misses the little sighs that Carter does when you leave. He’ll poke that bear, though, unlike you. He’ll demand Carter explain why he has an issue with you, but Carter doesn’t really know what to say so he just tells Nolan he doesn’t have an issue. 

Nolan does not believe him, not at all, but also fine. You want to lie, I’ll drag it out of you one way or another. So, Carter, who doesn’t have an issue with you, according to him and Nolan, is being forced to spend the day with the two of you. 

Poor Carter. 

He doesn’t want to do this and it’s clear as day on his normally overly excited and happy face. You’ve literally watched him go from the sweet and friendly guy you met that first day to a guy who doesn’t smile or interact when you’re around. Of course, it has to be something you’ve done. Nolan vanishes for a bit, into some video game store, leaving you and Carter to talk. 

He’s on his phone the second Nolan is occupied. Anything to keep him from interacting with you. It’s really starting to get to you that he’s so standoffish and distant. You’re the only person he acts like this with. You can’t take it any long and you snap. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask. Your voice is small, sad. You really did think he was sweet. You could have been really good friends. 

He looks up from his phone, eyes wide with shock. You’re talking to him and Nolan isn’t around and he might be panicking a little. “No. Of course not.” He doesn’t elaborate. 

“Then… Why do you hate me?” You’re a little angry at him, now. He keeps saying one thing and doing a completely different thing. You don’t get it. 

“I don’t hate you?” He’s almost confused by your implication and you want so badly to hit him. 

“Right, sure. You just treat everyone you like, like they’re infected with an incurable disease.” You cross your arms over your chest and turn your back on him, trying not to let the anger get the better of you. 

“Ones I like that are dating friends of mine, yes.” He says quietly, fingers tapping on the glass screen of his phone again. He doesn’t look at you, but his cheeks are pink. He knows you heard him.

“You…” you pause, collecting your thoughts and restructuring his behavior in your mind. You get it now. Why he distanced himself. “You should go,” you tell him. 

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah, I should. Tell Nolan I’ll see him at practice.” His phone slides into his back pocket and he’s walking away before you can even say anything. 

You don’t know what to do with the information you now have, but you watch him walk away. A weird feeling nestling in your chest. 

[queeniewriteshockey]

U should write angst where carter is away at a game and finds out his gf/BFF got into an accident!! That hospital piece was rlly good u write good angst

Aww Nonnie

I love this sweet floppy haired guy so much. 

Word Count: 1318

Being away for a road game was never easy. Often times it was fun, of course, but it came with its trials and hardships. He loved the travel. Loved spending time with his team and being able to play the sport that he’d dedicated his life to. He’d sacrificed so much for the sport when he was growing up, but where he was and what he was doing made it worth it. On days that he felt the walls closing in on him and the lonesome feeling take hold, he reminded himself of that. It could be hard to walk the line, to not doubt the choices he’d made in his life that led him to the moment he was at.

The second he was on the ice, though, that all faded away. The cold of the ice, the chill in the air that stung the cheeks and reminded him he was alive was enough to make all the voices and worries slip away. The second the gloves were on and the helmet down, his mind shifted from doubt and concern to confidence. He knew he was good at what he did and he kept his mind clear so that he could do it. He didn’t want to be the reason his team lost. It always fell on the goalies’ shoulders, however, justified it was and sometimes that really took its toll.

His mood was pretty alright coming off his win against the Cannucks, but he was still anxious to get back to the hotel and give you a call. The guys had wanted him to join them for some drinks and dinner after, but he really just wanted to give you a call and hear your voice before he joined them. He’d told them he’d catch up with them as they’d departed the lobby, guys going in all directions.

The missed calls and texts on his phone were nothing new, Carter was terrible at replying to a text, preferring instead to talk to someone. Those would go unanswered for days. It was the missed calls he focused on first. Though he’d had a few from friends in the area and his mom to congratulate him on his win, it was the unknown Philadelphia number that bothered him.

The voice mail hadn’t really shed any light on the subject other than the fact that it was a doctor calling and a request to give him a callback. Naturally, his mind drifted to the darker realms, making up wild scenarios with worryingly vivid details. His imagination could get the better of him when he let it, but he didn’t often let it. He preferred the act of being level headed. He was a Leo, though. They looked put together on the outside, on the inside they were a mess. Sometimes he identified with his sign more than he wanted to admit.

The doctor hadn’t answered the call, which didn’t soothe his worry, if anything it heightened it. There was only one person in all of Philidelphia that he cared about, the rest were all wandering around Vancouver, probably drinking too much. Your phone was the next one he called, wanting to make sure that it had nothing to do with you. Maybe it was just a wrong number? Or some test he’d forgotten he’d taken that had to do with… something. He didn’t know, he just needed to hear your voice.

The second that was achieved was like coming up for air. He hadn’t even realized he was drowning. His body had gone numb while he paced the hotel room, wearing a hole in the carpet. Your voice stopped him in his tracks, his mind slowing from is racing.

“Babe?” He said, his voice a little more gravely than normal. “Are you okay?” He had to be sure the phone call wasn’t about you. He needed to know you were okay.

“Mostly,” you told him. You weren’t lying, but you hadn’t been okay earlier, while he’d been playing savior to the Flyers. “I’m alright, now.”

“I got a call, but they only left a message. What happened?” His heart felt like it was constricting in his chest. The neck of his shirt was too tight and he tugged out at the collar, trying to alleviate the choking feeling.

You leaned back in the hospital bed, a groan escaping your lips as you did so. “I got into an accident. I’m okay,” you prefaced again, making sure he understood that. “Some asshole cut me off on the freeway and I hit the guard trying to stop myself from ending up in his back end.”

Carter’s eyes closed and he took a deep breath in through his nose, trying to center himself. These were the times he had to remind himself of his commitment to his craft. There was nothing he wanted more than to be back in Philly with you, making sure you were actually okay and not just telling him you were so that he wouldn’t worry while he was away.

He knew it was something you would do and he worried it was something you were doing. “You’re sure?” He asked. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right.”

You sigh softly, but he hears it. He knows you better than you thought he did.

“Y/N?” He asked again, his tone a little more firm. A little more stressed.

“I’m still in the hospital, but yes, I’m okay. They want to keep overnight for observation and I need a cast. I might have broken might arm.”

“You…” He trails off, his fist clenching in frustration.

“Carter, I’m fine. I promise. My mom’s coming to take me home tomorrow and stay with me until you get home. You’ll be home in a few days. Everything will be okay.”

He wanted to believe you, but it was hard. He was so far away, kilometers and miles, it didn’t matter, it was still a lot. He felt like a world was standing in his path.

“Babe, I promise. Please don’t worry. I’m okay.”

He nodded, but you couldn’t see it. “I know, I’m just… I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“It’s okay, I understand. Your job is important. I’ll be here when you get back.” You were never going to go anywhere. You loved him too much to even bear the thought. You let out a yawn, reminding both of you that you were three hours ahead and it was late.

“I should let you sleep,” he said softly. “It’s late and you need rest.”

You couldn’t disagree with him, the meds they had given you for the pain were making you tired and loopy. it was a wonder you had even been able to have a coherent conversation with him. “Call me tomorrow when you get up?” You offered, your yawn taking over a few of your words as you spoke.

“The moment I open my eyes,” he promised. “You can count on it.”

And you did.

“I love you,” you told him, your voice low as you laid your head back on the little pillow in the bed.

“Love you, too. Night babe.”

The line disconnected and Carter sank onto the bed, body, and mind still numb from shock and worry. You’d said you were okay, but it didn’t stop him from worrying. It was going to eat at him all night. Naw at his mind and disturb his sleep. This was not a price he had expected to pay, but he knew there was a chance. He just had to be thankful nothing really bad had happened to you.

He never made it to the bar where the rest of the team was waiting. He’d decided to stay in, take a shower, enjoy the mini bar a bit and go to sleep before the rest of them came back. He’d explain later. They’d understand… Some of them would, anyway.

[this-is-ally-and-im-confused]

This-is-ally-and-im-confused Masterlist!

Who I write for! Requests are open :) join the taglist!

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Love letter from Nolan

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