#can we move the fuck on from the north stars (a team that is in fact still around. we play them several times a year in fact)

[letkirillfight]

If this isn't just a dumb rumor...

[boobabietch]

Chapter I: "From College Phenom to WNBA Superstar: The Victoria O’Hara Story" | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: Kinda narcissistic, kinda obsessed Victoria (excuse my girl she just wants to do good)

A/N: first chapter baby let’s fucking goooo, I’m so so excited about this series and I cannot wait for you guys to read it. As always English is not my first language so if you see any mistakes (I wrote this super high so there’s probably some) please let me know so I can change them asap, comments are highly appreciated, please let me know what you think! My ask box is always open too. Love Sof :))

Making headlines masterlist

There’s a funny thing about being a woman in sports, and it’s that being good is not enough.

When I was first drafted to the W, my back was in agonizing pain, breaking under the weight of everyone’s expectations. Having an excellent college career made the country ache with the need to see me play with the big dogs, some rooting for my success, but most of them patiently waiting for my imminent downfall. I struggled; climbing up that fucking hill was hard. But everything became easier once my mind was blinded with rage, and that anger had a name: Diana motherfucking Taurasi.

Growing up she was everything I aspired to be. She made it all look so easy, so effortless, and I wanted that. And the thing is, I’m not an aggressive person, not even a bad one. I bake for my teammates every Friday, I have friends all over the league, little girls want my shoes after the games and their grown fathers want my ass, teenage girls even write about me on Tumblr, for fuck's sake! I am perfectly fine!

Until that fucking game.

May 19, 2017

My rookie season. We faced Phoenix for the first time. The air was thick with anticipation, and I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut that nobody on that arena came to see me.

There she was.

Diana was there, larger than life, owning the court like she owned the entire damn league. And the truth was, she did.

I knew this moment was coming, but nothing could’ve prepared me for actually standing across from her. She locked eyes with me during warm-ups, her face impassive, like I wasn’t even worth her time. I looked around and every person was the same, nobody really came to see me, not even my team. That’s when I realized that being good at the game it’s not enough, you have to play another type of game if you want people to see you, and I was determined to make them beg for more of me.

That was all it took. I felt something rise inside of me, a mix of insecurity and pure terror, and from that moment, the only thing I wanted more than winning was beating her. Proving her wrong.

And that’s where all the shit unraveled.

It wasn’t just the basketball. It was personal. Every shot I took, every time I drove the lane, I wasn’t just thinking about the score, I was thinking about her. The way she moved. How her voice echoed through the arena when she barked orders to her team. I hated how much I was drawn to it, to her.

My teammates tried to talk me down, “Vico, chill you’re obsessing,” Sydney said. But they didn’t get it. Diana Taurasi was my benchmark, my North Star. My fire, I wanted what she had and in order to get it she was the one to beat. Every game after that I took it as duel, a fight for dominance. I was determined to make her see me, to make her acknowledge that I wasn’t just some rookie passing through, because if she knew that, then everybody would know that I was Victoria fucking O’Hara, and I was coming for the crown, her crown.

And I was doing a hell of a job:

"Rising Star: Victoria O'Hara Leads All Rookies in Scoring and Rebounds"

"WNBA newest princess? O’Hara’s Rookie Season Proves She’s a Force to Be Reckoned With"

"Victoria O’Hara Makes Waves: Record-Breaking Rookie Season Captivates Fans and Analysts"

But it never seemed to be enough, until…

July 7, 2017

It was after another grueling game. We lost by three points, but I played the game of my life. I was exhausted, mentally and physically, slumped on the bench, trying to catch my breath. And someone towered over me.

Someone I was very aware of.

“Not bad, O’Hara. Keep it up, and you might actually be a challenge someday.”

My stomach twisted.

I stared at her for a weirdly amount of time, unsure how to respond. Hell, was she mocking me? Or was this some twisted form of respect?

Before I could think too much, I snapped back:

“Someday? I’m already a problem for you.”

Fuck, that sounded way harsher than I intended.

I saw her look at her shoes, clicking her tongue before staring at me again, a smirk plastered in her face begging to be slapped it out “Of course you are”

And that’s it. She left.

July 30, 2017:

We were playing again, and the tension was unbearable. Everyone could feel it. Diana was all over the place, controlling the game like she always did, like she owned it. But this time? I wasn’t letting her have it. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she still ran the show. I needed this moment. I needed to prove myself. To her. To everyone.

Then, in the third quarter, it happened.

I saw her coming. Her eyes were locked on me like a damn predator, and I wasn’t backing down. I made a drive, quick and sharp, cutting to the basket with everything I had. I was going to score, but she had other plans. She slammed into me, body on body, knocking me off my path like I was nothing. I hit the floor hard, my elbows burning from the impact. The whistle blew, and I stayed down for a second, rage boiling under my skin.

"Get up," she muttered, standing over me like she owned the place. "You’re gonna need more than that to take me down, rook."

The audacity. I pushed myself up, heart pounding in my chest, glaring straight at her. I was chest to chest with the legend, staring into her eyes, and for the first time, I wasn’t intimidated. I was pissed. “You think you’re untouchable? Just fucking wait.”

She smirked, like she’d heard it all before. Like she didn’t even have to try. "I don’t think, O’Hara. I know," she spat back, her voice dripping with arrogance.

That was it. That was the moment I snapped. "Oh, you’re just a fucking bitch, aren’t you?" The words flew out before I could stop them, and I shoved her, hard.

The arena erupted in chaos.

Before I knew it, she was lunging at me, ready to push me back. But our teammates were faster, grabbing us before we could even make contact. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, my fists clenched, ready to throw. But the second I tried to break free, I was held back by a wall of arms pulling me away from her.

It took four players to hold me back. Four.

Diana wasn’t any better off. Her teammates were holding her down too, but I could see it in her eyes. She wanted this fight as much as I did. There was fire there, the same fire I felt burning inside me. She wasn’t just here to win; she was here to prove a point. But so was I.

We both struggled against the hands holding us back, trying to break free, trying to get at each other. My muscles ached with the effort of pushing forward, but no matter how hard I fought, it wasn’t happening. I could almost feel the impact of my fist hitting her. The unfinished fight burned inside me, an itch that couldn’t be scratched.

I didn’t give a shit about the cameras or the refs. I didn’t care about the technical they were about to call. All I cared about was making her feel this rage, this fire that she had sparked inside me. I wanted her to know that she wasn’t untouchable. That I wasn’t just another rookie.

Finally, the refs managed to pull us apart, forcing us to opposite sides of the court. My chest heaved with adrenaline, but I wasn’t done. I looked back at her, catching her eyes one more time. That damn smirk still on her face. But I knew she saw me now. I knew she felt it too.

The fight wasn’t over.

That was the moment I realized. Diana Taurasi wasn’t just another player to beat. She was the one. The one I had to take down. And maybe, just maybe, she’d finally met someone who could.

Fucking Diana.

"Rivalry Ignites: O’Hara and Taurasi Get into Fiery Altercation During Friday Game"

San Antonio Stars Victoria O’Hara Adidas Grey and Black Edition Player Jersey | SOLD OUT

Requests are Open!

Massterlist

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Mike/Liam; happy place

For the always welcome prompt: Anything where Mike and Liam are happy

Teensy bit NSFW because, well, it's Mike and Liam.

The kitchen’s always been Mike’s favourite room of the house.

Well, Liam would like to think it’s his second favourite room, but it probably isn’t. It’s not like they keep shit confined to the bedroom or anything anyway. There isn’t a surface in this house that Liam hasn’t gotten bent over at some point, though Mike was very, very thorough about disinfecting the kitchen counter after. Totally anal about it.

“Why are you snickering to yourself,” Mike says.

It doesn’t even come out suspicious, he’s gotten into such a rhythm cutting little stars out of a sheet of cookie dough. He probably wouldn’t admit this even to himself, but while Mike may like to cook, he loves to bake. Only ever does it for others, though, like the baking itself isn’t unmanly but eating the results is.

That means Liam usually only gets to sample his baking one filched cookie at a time, which is bullshit. But also, probably good for his career. Mike’s just as good at baking as he is at cooking. Possibly even better, but Liam’s got a sweet tooth, so he’s probably biased.

“Liam,” Mike says, and Liam realises he hasn’t bothered to answer.

“Thought of a sex joke,” Liam says.

Mike snorts. “Of course you did,” he says. “Do I want to hear it?”

“You always do,” Liam says. Mike secretly thinks he’s hilarious.

“Go ahead,” Mike says, trying and failing to sound long-suffering. Cutting little stars is clearly his happy place. Liam’s going to go completely nuts online later buying cookie cutters. He wonders if they have little skulls and crossbones or rockets or something. Maybe Mike will let them keep a batch of cookies if they’re badass enough. Probably not, but a man can hope.

“Remember how we fucked in the kitchen?” Liam asks.

“Which time?” Mike asks.

Liam waves a hand. “Irrelevant to the joke.”

“Okay,” Mike says. “Yes, I remember.”

“So I was thinking about how you were, you know, super thorough cleaning the counters off after?” Liam asks.

“I prepare food on these counters,” Mike says. “They need to be—“

“Not saying you shouldn’t have been,” Liam says. “Just, you know. That was kind of anal of you.”

Mike doesn’t stop himself from snorting in time. “That was bad,” he says, a second too late. “Completely juvenile.”

“I know,” Liam says cheerfully. Made Mike snort, though, so what does that say about him?

Mike looks down at his handiwork, a sea of stars across the baking sheet, enough for every member of the roster.

“You’re making two batches, right?” Liam asks. It’s just the team for this one, no significant others or kids, so technically only one batch is needed, but one per person doesn’t work out well. There are thieves on that team. He should know: he’s one of them.

“Three,” Mike says. “Make sure there’s enough for the support staff.”

Once again, Mike is going to be the most popular person at the team Christmas party. Third straight year. Liam thinks they should make him a trophy or something.

“Can we decorate them to be North Stars?” Liam asks. “Or is that not Christmassy enough?”

“Why do you think I picked stars, Fitzgerald?” Mike asks, and Liam grins at him. “Why don’t you make yourself useful, find the green food colouring for me?”

Liam has no idea where the fuck it would be, but he has eyes and hands and enthusiasm, and the full awareness that Mike will gripe at him from across the room like a backseat searcher until he locates it.

“Why would it be in there?” Mike asks, as Liam opens the cupboards, and Liam grins at the mixing bowls. The griping’s already begun.

“Baking stuff,” Liam says.

Mike sighs, and Liam moves one over.

“Liam,” he says, and Liam grins wider. “Really?”

“Tell me where to go, and I’m there,” Liam says, but instead Mike pins him against the counter, basically surrounding him. Liam leans back into him, closes his eyes when Mike wraps an arm around his chest, brushes his lips against Liam’s temple, the kind of thing he’d deny was a kiss if asked. ‘What? Kiss you? My mouth just happened to be in the area, don’t flatter yourself’.

Liam tilts his head up, and he gets a proper kiss for that, though Mike pulls away just as he’s starting to get a crick in his neck. He always seems to know, somehow.

Mike presses another not-kiss to his cheekbone, then smacks his ass. “Go find me the food colouring,” he says.

It takes ten minutes, and Mike almost throws the cookie cutter at him, but eventually Liam locates it.

“Can I help make the frosting?” he asks.

“You just want to lick the beaters,” Mike says, but he doesn’t say no.

[schumigrace]

My life will, quite literally, never be the same.

I moved to the motorsport county for a multitude of reasons, but having Silverstone on my doorstep was at the top of the list.

The mileage counter in my beaten-up racing green Vauxhall has racked up most of it's digits on the A43 through Towcester, I can tell you the exact position of every road sign painted with a brown rectangle, a chequered flag next to the word "Silverstone". I could tell you which direction the track is in from anywhere in the world, as if it's Wing shaped roof hangs like a petrol-laden North Star. All roads lead to Silverstone, you may say (no-one has ever said this)

So, Grace, I hear you asking, how often do you go?

Never.

That is, of course, until I received an email from God herself (the Aston Martin F1 Team Marketing Analyst) informing me of my invitation to their AMR24 Launch. An invitation I very obviously accepted, after 24 hours worth of crying, screaming, and stalking said marketing analyst on LinkedIn to make sure this was not in fact some messed up kind of joke

So it's 7 in the morning, I'm doing my usual commute through the god-awful traffic hell that is Northamptonshire, only this time I'm not going straight ahead on the Silverstone Bypass, I am taking the ever elusive right turn into the brand new Aston Martin Technology Centre and being handed a visitor's pass

The first thing I notice is that they've only gone and put a bloody AMR23 (with the new livery) right in the middle of the lobby, it's covered up at this point, and I'm staring daggers through the cover just daring it to be riddled with carbon fibre underneath. AMR team members are floating around like green angels everywhere I look, shelves are adorned with this past year's trophies (I make a comment to a passing team member - "you'll need more shelves after this year", she chuckles and moves on - I try not to take this is a bad sign)

8 o'clock hits, the official launch video plays, and the cover is removed. jesus fucking christ she's green. thank fuck. I can go home now.

Oh, hang on, is that Mike Krack?

Shit it is.

Mike has a shakedown to run of course, so he doesn't hang around for too long. He's confident in this car though, they've been working on it for years, and he's sure we'll be quick out of the gate. Off he goes across the road to the garage. "Don't worry," they say, "you'll be going over to watch the cars on track too."

Sorry, can you repeat that please, I believe you just said we are going to go over to the track to watch the cars.

"Yes of course, but not before we ply you with cake and coffee, naturally, oh and also Pedro De La Rosa is here along with Jessica Hawkins. Do you want to chat to them?"

I ask Pedro where he and Fernando went to dinner last night. Somewhere in Oxford I think, I stopped listening, I was thinking about how much I would be willing to be a thir-

Anyway.

At this point no photos are allowed for the rest of the day, they are literally building the car right in front of you no you cannot put that on social media.

We're heading across the road now, along the Hamilton straight and up around Stowe, we head past the Porsche Experian Centre and I make some vague comment about Webbonso that nobody picks up on. Nevermind. We turn left just before Maggots and Becketts to head towards the pit lane, and into the Aston Martin garage.

The smell of petrol is so overwhelmingly strong and I make sure every single cell of my lungs is scarred from it. A batak machine is being set up and I joke "wouldn't it be funny if someone beat Jenson Button's world record today". Someone did, not even 5 minutes later. A wave of "get Jenson on the phone!" fills the garage.

I turn around, Stoffel Vandoorne and Felipe Drugovich are on a stage talking about how exciting it is to see the car, or at least they're trying to look excited. I'm not sure Drugo knows what that even means.

Lawrence Stroll is talking to a mechanic and I can literally hear the thousands of dollars dropping into his bank account with every heartbeat. Surely his son is nearby? Oh yes, right infront of us. Imagine that. (Lance did of course look gorgeous, his racesuit tied around his waist, laughing with his engineers like the whore he is)

We're heading over to the PU station now and the wonderful AM team member is talking us through the specifics of it, but I haven't heard a single word she has said, because unfortunately for her Fernando has decided to enter the garage at that exact moment. I am stood near a space heater, and he locks eyes on me (nope, the space heater) immediately. He makes his way over and sticks his backside directly towards the heater and my face is about as red as the radiator.

"Good morning! How are you?"

I have so many words to say to you right now, and not a single one of them is in a language that either of us can understand. I think I eventually vomitted up some form of acceptable response, however, because he smiled at me.

"Are you cold?"

"Only a little" I respond. Not anymore, I'm picturing myself under you, I think.

I totally lost a good hour after this because there's not a single memory here for me to put into words, damn you Alonso

The blur fades with the freezing air outside, and we're stood on the pitwall. Sky Sports are here now and have us doing media stuff, I run as far away from them as possible and climb onto the pitwall. FIA, if you're reading this, I promise I kept both feet on the ground at all times.

They tell us the shakedown isn't going to plan, suprise surprise, and you actually cannot see the car on track today. I mentally curl into a ball and sob the whole way back to the AMRTC but all of a sudden we are being led to mission control and the composite engineering stations and they are, literally, building a car infront of us whatthefuckishappening

By this point I have recovered from my minor sulk - Grace this is literally the best day of your life get over yourself - and then we're being told that as an apology they have hired a room in the Hilton Hotel opposite the pitlane, free food and drinks for as long as we want, oh and... cars on track. all. day. long.

Whilst writing this i received another email from biblically-accurate marketing analyst god asking for feedback. I think a string of letters indicating incessant shrieking will probably do the trick

[robinewe]

Shooting Stars (pt. 2)

Part 1

“Sorry. I have the weapon in my possession. What’s the status, why’s it so quiet down here?” 

“Well, we thought that you fucking died, and so we started throwing everything we’ve got at them to distract everyone enough that you might be able to escape. On the slim chance you were still alive. Glad to hear from you, by the way.” It was Noon’s voice, dry and sarcastic like she always was.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Everything is fine. Is anything obstructing the elevator?”

“Not that I can see! We’ve got them fighting above ground.”

“Alright, coming up.” I turned and found the star silently following me, a bit behind, not taking their eyes off of me. We boarded the elevator and stood awkwardly shoulder to shoulder as it jerked into motion and slowly rose. They looked nervous and kept fidgeting, jumping every time the elevator made a strange noise. Partly to distract them, partly out of curiosity, I asked, “How long has it been since you were above ground?”

They let out a nervous little giggle, apparently unintentionally as they covered their mouth in embarrassment a second later. “I have no idea, time passes differently for me than humans. It could have been only a few days, or a few decades. I don’t need to eat or sleep and nothing ever changed in the room.”

“In that case, get ready to see the sun again.” We were nearing the ground level, where the rest of my team was waiting for us. My communicator couldn’t reach them from the elevator.

“Your sun’s also a star, you know,” they informed me. They were smiling at the thought. “I’m a sun.”

“Yep. And here we—” I gestured for the doors to open, but they did not. Instead, we kept moving upwards, into the spire. “-are… Oh.” I frowned and examined the elevator buttons. Nothing I pressed seemed to change the elevator’s direction, or get it to stop. I kept pressing them anyway. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” the star asked, tentatively. I didn’t know, so I didn’t say anything. Something crashed noisily above us, and the elevator briefly tremored.

“They’re in the shaft,” I said, quieting my voice. I gestured for them to do the same. “Not good. We’ll have to find another way back down. First we have to get it to stop and get these doors open. Then we’ll do some running, just like I promised. Now, cover your ears.”

They followed directions without hesitation, and I unloaded three shots into the button pad, making my ears ring in the confined space. I looked back at the star and they had obviously been frightened. The elevator screeched to a halt, I holstered my rifle and pried apart the doors. Then I reached behind and grabbed their hand, and tugged them out into the new, empty hallway with me.

My communicator buzzed back on as soon as it was able, with Noon’s voice repeating the same message over and over and over again: “Jump out north side of building. 10th floor. Helicopter waiting. Confirm when you hear this. Jump out north side of building. 10th floor. Helicopter waiting. Confirm when you hear this. Jump out north–”

“Confirm!” I barked. I heard a very self-satisfied laugh come over the comms. “Just be ready.”

“Right back at you!” Noon agreed. “Over and out.”

I rolled my eyes. “Over and out.” When dramatic action movies inspire girls like Noon to become world-renowned martial arts masters, with an endless supply of maneuvers borrowed from obscure spy novels, cliches are bound to slip into her vocabulary, too. The Rebellion didn’t mind it so much as long as she was an asset. She’d quickly become the leader of our team, so she’d always be our top asset.

The star was staring at me, waiting for directions. I pointed to my earpiece, and asked, “Did you catch that?”

They shook their head. “I’m not good at hearing small sounds yet. My primary language is the humm of the universe.”

“A-ahh. I see. Do you always offer information so easily?” They frowned and pressed their lips together, like they wanted to remind themself not to talk again. I shrugged it off, continuing, “There’s a helicopter waiting for us, on the north face of the building.” I oriented myself with the cardinal directions, and pointed north. We navigated through offices and branching hallways that seemed to want nothing more than to disorient us.

Unexpectedly, we found stairs, and I thought to check what floor we had made it up to. Seventh. I hoped the star could handle some climbing.

On the tenth floor we encountered a full room of men with guns engaged in a firefight with the ex-army helicopter, clearly stolen, armed with artillery and re-painted baby blue. The windows had all been shattered and emptied by bullet fire from either side. It was loud as soon as we opened the door from the stairwell, and the star once again clapped their hands over their ears. I grabbed them by the elbow and pulled us behind suitable shelter, into a conference room with a half-wall where the windows had been shattered. We could crouch underneath the windows; our other options were flimsy cubicles.

I pressed the star into the wall. Quietly, I ordered, “Stay right here.” They nodded, and I wondered if they were more scared of me, or the other men with guns. I pulled my rifle from behind me, and took out spare parts from my pockets, effortlessly attaching the silencer and replacing the bullets with soft point bullets that stood a better chance against body armour. Our tech expert Izzy had upgraded my scope to lock onto my targets. He had also 3D printed most of my weaponry, but my sniper rifle was real. A relic from before the dismantling. I put the tip of the gun through the broken window, saw men with their backs to me through the scope, outlined by the body heat sensors.

One by one I locked onto them, and made it through about four before someone noticed bullets were coming from behind them. But as one turned to look for the hidden attacker, he let himself be distracted from the helicopter. Good work on Noon’s part, with her crack shot aim, and Dylan’s flying skills were no joke either, dodging fire and holding it steady enough for her.

“Make your move, hotshot!” Izzy’s voice came into my ears. “Now’s your best chance!” He would know, he was viewing the scene from every angle via his strategically placed rat-shaped cameras.

I slipped back into my routines with the team so easily, as if this mission had gone like any other. Bantering over the comms, effortlessly showing off our skills and ability to work off of each other without even having to think about it. It was instinctual.

The star wasn’t there anymore when I turned to tell them we had to get moving. I froze, and then jerked my head in every direction looking for them. A flash of white light caught my attention, as if the star had sent a flare to tell me where they were.

They were in the arms of a uniformed man, pointing his gun at me, other arm tight across the star’s neck. They were clawing at the arm pressing on their windpipe, as if they were struggling to breathe. It felt presumptuous to assume non-humans needed to breathe, right? They were struggling, and they seemed to be unable to talk, but their face remained eerily pale (rather than pink, or red, or blue, or purple). They weren’t choking. I had time to assess.

Assessment was easy. The man was much taller than the star. He wasn’t threatening the star, he was threatening me. He hadn’t alerted the rest of the troops to our presence. Wanting the glory for himself?

I silently shot him in the head, through an eye, exploding through the back of his skull and taking a significant amount of the brain and bone with it. My gun was silent, but the sound his body made was sickeningly loud. He flew backwards, and the star fought off his grip before he could take them down with him.

That caught everyone’s attention, and the whole space got quieter as they stopped shooting. They were turning to look at us, and they were lowering their guns.

The star had bursts of blood and viscera on their snow-white skin, hair, and dress. They were visibly trembling, eyes wide and not daring to look behind and see the body. I pulled them closer to me, assuming that the other soldiers didn’t want to risk shooting the star and ending all life.

I ushered them through the carpeted battlefield, past bodies and living people looking livid that they aren’t allowed to keep fighting. I kept the star in front of me, gently prodded them into moving again each time they locked up. I could sympathize. A lot of people died in front of them today. They weren’t used to it.

We got to the window and I holstered my rifle across my back and I noticed the star looked nervous, shivering in the breeze. I hadn’t thought that something that had fallen out of space onto the Earth would be afraid of heights that were so mundane in comparison.

I bent down and wrapped an arm around their knees, hoisting the star over my shoulder. They cried out in surprise, but went limp and clutched the back of my shirt. I threw myself through the broken window and sailed over a gap over fifty feet above the pavement. I landed heavily into the belly of the helicopter, and Noon was there to steady me and slide shut the big metal door behind us.

I put down the star and their shaky legs collapsed to the floor. I steadied myself and helped maneuver them into a seat, and clicked the seatbelt over them. They let me do so without protest, more occupied with covering their ears. Noon passed me a set of headphones, like the ones she wore to protect her ears from the sounds and to talk over the mike set attached. That way, we could all still hear each other over the beat of helicopter blades.

Noon looked disapprovingly at the star, and pointedly did not offer them a headset. “What’s that?” she asked.

I had to break the news. “That’s the Supernova.”

[teaandfiction-28]

Fluff #3

A slightly different approach with this one starring two of our favourite boys!  Thank you @indelibletraces - hope you enjoy! 💛

—————————

Prompt: “Are you blushing?”

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Language, Mentions of sex

Timeline: Set between C23 and C24 of “Perfect Storm.”

“Alright, I want both of your heads on a swivel. We got one shot at this prick...make it count.”

Lifting his thumb from the transmit button on his radio, Hank settled in for what would likely be an uncomfortable couple of hours. 

The medical examiner had found an almost-faded stamp on the inside of their most recent victim’s wrist which had led them to The Scarlet Letter, a high-end male strip club in River North. The evidence they had unearthed so far indicated that their victim was involved in an elicit relationship with one of the dancers who was likely to have been the last person to have seen her alive. Judge Anderson had outright refused to grant them a warrant so he’d had no choice but to send two of his female detectives undercover in an effort to flush him out while the rest of the team continued to chase down other leads that might help them close the case. 

He dropped his eyes from the nondescript black door that Kim and Kate had disappeared behind moments before to the tablet in his lap currently displaying the footage from Kate’s button camera, the two women apparently being guided deeper into the club by a handsome, well-dressed host. 

“You alright, man? Seem a bit anxious.”

Hank glanced towards his long-time friend and colleague briefly before turning his eyes back to the screen with a sigh and a slight shake of his head. 

“If Anderson would just come outta the fucking closet, I wouldn’t have needed to send them in there.”

Anderson’s proclivity for entertaining male company at this specific venue when his wife was out of town was the worst kept secret in Chicago yet still he kept up the charade of being the loving, devoted and, most importantly, ‘heterosexual’ husband he wanted the world to perceive him to be. 

“They’re big girls, Hank. They can look after themselves.” Al said quietly, his mouth tugging into a wry grin at his friend’s unusually antsy behaviour. 

Hank had always been protective of those he cared about but, ever since New York, he had been particularly cautious with the assignments he gave Kate, despite her making it abundantly clear on a number of occasions that she was not onboard with being turned into a glorified administrator. 

Barely ten minutes had passed when their suspect finally made an appearance, strutting towards Kate like a peacock in mating season, hair perfectly preened and chest puffed outwards. But it was clear this man had zero respect for other people’s personal space when, without as much as a hello, braced his hand somewhere behind Kate’s head and proceeded to roll his hips in slow, fluid movements right in front of her face, his rock hard abs rippling with each gyration.

“Bet your man can’t satisfy you the way I could, baby.” He grumbled in a deep tone, reaching out to take Kate’s hand and place it on his slick chest, catching her wrist to slide her palm down towards the waistband of his tiny blue trunks.

Hank hoped to God that Kate stopped him before he reached his intended target but, to his horror, she simply crossed one thigh over the other and appeared to casually lean back in her chair but, mercifully, she did withdraw her hand away from his body. 

“My man can satisfy me just fine.” 

‘Oh no.’

Of course Hank knew she was just playing along but he was also very aware that the man next to him was listening in to their conversation...and that he knew exactly who she was referring to when she spoke about ‘her man’.

“Oh yeah?” Flashing a dazzling smile, he moved to straddle Kate’s thighs, grinding his prominent bulge against her torso. “You know, it’s a real shame that you women are conditioned to believe that an orgasm every fortnight is the best you’re ever gonna get.”

At this point in their relationship, Hank liked to think that he knew Kate pretty well. He knew the trivial things like how she liked her coffee and how she secretly doused her hotdogs in ketchup when she thought he wasn’t looking. But he also knew that a surefire way to get under her skin was to behave like a microaggressive asshole in her presence and Hank found himself hoping that maybe this would be the one time that she just let the arrogant comment slide.

It soon became clear that tonight would not be that time. 

“Well, I can’t speak for all of ‘us women’ but, believe me when I tell you...” Her tone was barely more than a breathy whisper as she leaned forwards to rest her lips against the man’s ear. “...he’s upset if more than twenty four hours pass without me screaming his name.”

Hank felt his cheeks become red hot as he sat in stunned silence, his eyes still glued to the screen as he watched Kate pin the man down to a nearby table with both arms wrenched behind his back, very obviously placing him under arrest. Within minutes, the two women were frog-marching him out into the street, still clad in only his underwear before shoving him into a nearby squad car and escorting him back to the district. 

After a few beats of uncomfortable silence, Hank lifted his eyes to meet Alvin’s across the cab. 

“Well...it’s, uh...” Alvin cleared his throat, dark brown eyes twinkling with mirth under the glow of a nearby streetlamp. “It’s good to know you can keep up with her.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Alvin.” Hank groaned, tossing the tablet into his lap none too gently before busying himself with starting the car, desperate to get as far away from the awkward situation as he could. “She was just keeping her cover.”

“Hey man, good for you! I’m actually kinda prou-” Al cut himself off mid-sentence, leaning forwards to get a better look at Hank’s face. “Wait a minute, are you blushing?” 

Hank’s grumbled threat of tossing him out on his ass if he ever spoke of this again was drowned out by Al’s loud bark of laughter. Once he had gotten himself under control and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, he eventually promised to keep shtum about the apparent ‘Sex God’ status of his best friend under the proviso that his backlog of paperwork that Trudy had been hounding him about for months would be up to date by the end of the week. 

“Deal.” Hank muttered, idly wondering how Kate was going to react when she found out that her Freudian slip earned her a week full of late nights at the office when she could have been at home ‘screaming his name’.

[doctor-fancy-pants]

well that was a DAY

I'm easing off on the blog posts! I actually didn't intend to post the last two back-to-back, I'd just completely disconnected from the time-stream and thought the day before had been... several days previous.

But in brief: today was a wild emotional rollercoaster with some low lows on a personal note for your intrepid correspondent, who was in fact a whole lot less intrepid than she would have preferred.

(sometimes even the most aspirational swashbuckling protagonist finds themselves without the swashes necessary for buckling, or the buckles necessary for swashing.)

But after the low lows, we then reached the high highs of once again hauling my ass up onto the sorting table and kneeling over piles of invertebrates, gasping with delight at the big holothurians in spectacular condition from 1000m depth --

(okay: time for a pic! this isn't one of the real big ones, but it is from a group that usually don't make it to the surface in such good nick), and I have a photo on my phone because my brain blanked on using the field cameras.)

-- and then -- as I assured the concerned Sponge Sorceress that I would not move my knees any closer to the pile of invertebrates which were all skewered with glass sponge spicules, because I did not want any glass spicules in my legs -- GASP --

I saw it.

MY FIRST FEATHER STAR OF THE VOYAGE.

Look, my other two voyages in this corner of the continent (north-west) were much shallower, and feather stars made up an extraordinary proportion of the biomass, and we have had DIDDLY-FUCKING-SQUAT in the Crinoidea Department here on the 2am Invert Team (the 2pm Invert Team found a few little guys and set them aside for me, and I was psyched for them but two on the occasional trawl when we could see heaps on the deep tow cam was a bit of a bummer).

I'm a crinoid taxonomist by specialty and we have been sampling for a week and it has been slim pickings.

And today we got like... 25. Sure, for the shallows that would be a small haul. For 1000m? Pretty good. Sorted into five groups, but field sorting can be hit and miss.

So: I got to bed tonight a much happier marine biologist and crinoid taxonomist than I was when I got up this morning.

[princessphilly]

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Word Count: 5118

CW: angst, smut but not super filthy smut (medium filth?), bad language

Dress and shoes that Nina wore in this chapter

Join the tag list here!

Only three more chapters and an epilogue left

Nina fidgeted as dug into her pocketbook for her keys to her parents’ house. It was time for Sunday dinner, the one meal a week that she wasn’t responsible for cooking and therefore, Nina never missed it. Cooking was not her forte and Nina had no problems with that. However, this Sunday dinner, she needed to talk to her family about their lives changing.

The smell of roast chicken filled the house and Nina took a deep sniff as she opened and closed the door. Aryanna and Dad were watching the late game aka hate-watching the Ravens vs Saints. The Steelers were playing on Monday night this week. 

“Heey sweettart,” Vernon said, getting up to give his oldest daughter a hug. 

Nina hugged her father back, holding him close for a second. “Hi Dad.”

“Oh no!”

Nina ended the hug, turning with her father towards the tv. Lamar Jackson had just run for a 20-yard touchdown. They all groaned; the Steelers needed the Ravens to lose as both teams were running neck to neck for the AFC North crown. As Nina got absorbed into the game, the situation with Sidney was still in the back of her mind. 

Nina had talked to her mom earlier in the day, explaining everything to her mother, well everything but the sex. Tracey had listened with an open ear before telling her daughter not to make a decision over her potential happiness just because of how it could affect her family. Tracey had reminded Nina that Jason, while he was at UNC now, had been a 5-star tight end prospect and they dealt with the media when it was time for him to sign with a college. 

After talking to her mom, Nina had taken a nap before coming to sunday dinner. As she watched the game, waiting to eat, Nina hoped for courage. However, she kept it to herself when it was time to eat, instead listening to Aryanna talk about school, her dad talk about his new position at work which meant that he wasn’t going to be going out on the road as much anymore. Nina shared some stories about her clients while Tracey talked about the switch to travel nursing over working in the hospital. But when it was over, Nina gulped and summoned her courage.

“So, I got news,” Nina started once dinner was over and dessert was served. She looked down at her glass of water. Before she could continue, Aryanna piped up. “Let me guess, you’re breaking up with Sidney Crosby because you’re a punk.”

“Aryanna!” 

Nina glared at her little sister while Tracey reprimanded, “That was rude, little girl.”

“Sorry,” Aryanna muttered.

“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted,” Nina said, “I have news. After thinking about it, talking to Sidney, and going over the pros and cons, I’ve decided to give him another chance.”

Tracey smiled as Aryanna shouted yes. Vernon looked at his daughter and carefully said, “Are you ready for it?”

Nina grimaced. “As ready as I can possibly. Are y’all?”

“We only want you to be happy, sweetie,” Tracey consoled. “Plus, I saw those pics of you two. He’s smitten.”

Nina groaned while Aryanna laughed. Vernon added, “We were already planning to move soon anyway. We’ve been looking at homes in South HIlls and we just closed on a house in Mt. Lebanon.”

“Oh wow. When was I going to find out,” Nina said with a smirk. She knew her parents had been thinking of moving for a while but the market had been super hot for a long time. Before she had moved into her current apartment, Nina had heard of the different arguments her parents had about moving to different areas. But before they could find somewhere, someone else would snap it up.

Tracey grinned. “We weren’t going to say anything until we closed because of how long it took to find somewhere. It’s taken almost two years and we even saved enough to offer forty percent as a down payment. It’s a fixer-upper though but it has a bigger backyard for my garden and the schools are better.”

“What are you going to do with this house,” Nina asked before taking a bite of her sweet potato pie. Fuck, she wished she could bake and cook just so she could make herself sweet potato pie all of the time. 

Vernon replied, “Probably sell. There are people looking to buy even though this area isn’t that great. ”

“I guess it’s settled. This is exciting though.”

Tracey snickered before looking at her husband. “I hope you are still excited when we need you to help pack, Ni-ni.”

Nina looked to her right before taking out her phone and sending a quick message. Free monday? 12pm?

She received a quick response. Yup, just tell me where to meet

Vernon casually commented, “I’m also looking at it this way; this is a practice for when Jason is in the NFL and becomes famous.”

“Good point,” Tracey said. “I can start practicing telling people no even more now.”

Nina laughed. “Looks like I have nothing to worry about then.”

The conversation switched to the Steelers game tomorrow night as they finished dessert.

**

Honestly, Sidney was a bit surprised to get a message from Nina so quickly. He had fully expected her to wait until Wednesday and he had been preparing himself for the worst possible outcome. As a competitor, prepping for each game meant learning his opponents’ strengths and weaknesses. Nina wasn’t his opponent but Sidney was now very aware of the power she had over him with just one look, let alone her touch or words. 

Nina had asked to meet somewhere that wasn’t at their homes. Sidney suggested lunch but after looking at his schedule, he asked if Nina could maybe meet him at the Pens offices and then get lunch after. Fidgeting in the smaller conference room, Sidney began to worry that Nina wouldn’t show up when the clock showed that it was already five minutes past the time they agreed to. But then, Nina wasn’t the most on time person either so Sidney rationalized to himself, he should worry if it was fifteen minutes passed and she still wasn’t here. 

Then outside the door, Sidney saw Nina talking with Evelyn, one of their PR mavens. They were having an animated discussion and Sidney smiled softly. Nina opened the door and grinned at him. “Hi Sid, sorry for being late.”

Evelyn waved at Sidney and he waved back. After Nina walked in, Evelyn peeped in and said, “I was just catching up with Nina since it’s been a while since she’s been here.”

Sidney nodded as Nina replied, “thank you so much for the advice, Evelyn, I will definitely use it!”

Evelyn waved goodbye before closing the door firmly. Nina chose a chair directly across from Sidney and sat down. There was a brief pause before Nina giggled. “Oh my God, you looked like you were about to die before I showed up.”

“Well, I had to remind myself that you’d show up but part of me still was worried because of everything in our last conversations,” Sidney replied. 

The aura in the room turned serious as Nina bit her lip and folded her hands together. “Yeah, those conversations,” Nina started. “I like you a lot, Sidney Crosby, but… I hate this circus that surrounds you. I know that it’s something you can’t control but I hate it. But I realized, especially after talking to my mom, there’s nothing I can do about it now. My life’s forever changed.”

Sidney cleared his throat but Nina stopped him. “Let me finish, Sid because I can already tell you’re ready to make promises you can’t keep. So let me save both of us the headache.”

Sitting back, Sidney leaned in his chair. “What are your plans, pretty girl?”

“You have to get over being super private and claim me publicly. You want me to be yours, Mr. Crosby? Then you have to let the world know we are together. No are they or aren’t they bullshit.”

Nina glared at Sidney when she was done. Sidney flushed; part of him hated the idea of letting the world know more than they really needed to know about his personal life. At the same time, he already knew he was going to do whatever Nina asked him to, in his own way. “You know I don’t use social media,” Sidney began before trailing off. Then he smirked. 

Nina casually said, “you’ll find a way.”

“I already figured it out,” Sidney drawled. “What else do you want, pretty girl?”

“No more surprise meet ups with people from the team, let me know ahead of time. Just like I’ll let you know ahead of time whenever I decide you should meet my fam.”

Sidney actually blushed while Nina arched an eyebrow. “I know I’m amazing but that was a bit uncomfortable when I think back. At least you didn’t abandon me to talk to your teammates and let me fend for myself.”

“I’m sorry, Nina,” Sidney apologized. He felt really bad now: he had been so excited that he really didn’t think about how Nina would have felt. Nina shrugged; it wasn’t that bad to be honest because Sidney stayed at her side, introduced her to everyone, and made sure she was included. But that didn’t mean she wanted him to continue doing that. 

Nina smiled at Sidney and asked, “what do you think, Sid?”

Sidney scratched his jaw as he thought of his reply. It was relatively simple but it would also be life-changing for him. He finally said, “Yes, it all sounds good. But I have one thing?”

“What’s that?”

Sidney smirked as he looked Nina up and down. Nina rolled her eyes as she smiled. She could guess where his mind was, right in the gutter. But Sidney surprised her when he said, “Then let me spoil you.  I have no problem claiming you publicly, but I want you to let me treat you like I’ve been wanting to treat you.”

Nina gave Sidney a bashful smile before looking to the side. “I’ll never say no to purses and shoes but I don’t want you to buy out the store-“

“I already know that, sweetheart,” Sidney firmly said, “but let me treat you like you deserve.”

“Okay, okay,” Nina conceded.

Sidney pushed his chair back, making space. Then he patted his lap. “Come ‘ere.”

Nina got out of her chair and sat on Sidney’s lap. “You know where we are,” she hissed even though she had obeyed him. 

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Sidney smiled. Smelling her coconut-vanilla scent, he realized how much he had missed her. “I know, I’m not going to do anything inappropriate, pretty girl. Just missed having you close to me.”

Sidney kissed the back of Nina’s neck, causing her to shiver. “Watch the postgame of our next game, Nina. Now, what do you want for lunch?”

“Um, honestly, I want Chipotle. I have to get back to work in about an hour so nothing fancy,” Nina replied. 

Turning so that she was facing Sidney, she placed her index finger over his lips when he opened his mouth. “I forgot to add this earlier but I’m also going to say this now. I’m not quitting my job anytime soon. I’m going to finish my Ph.D. and if I decide to stop working, it’s because I plan to teach full-time. So, if you expect I’ll be waiting at home and living for you, now you know that’s not going to happen,” Nina stated. 

Sidney opened his mouth to reply but the door opened. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you, Sidney!”

Nina squeaked in surprise and Sidney sighed. It was Brian Burke and Sidney was sure that it was probably something important but this wasn’t quite the moment where he wanted to see him. 

Brian smiled. “It looks like you two have made up.”

Nina weakly waved. At first, she was going to move off of Sidney’s lap but his hand around her waist made that impossible. “I’d introduce myself but I figure I interrupted,” Brian continued. 

“It’s okay, I was on my way to get lunch,” Nina replied. 

Sidney added, “With me.”

“Don’t forget, you said you wanted to help with more planning for our pride game this season,” Brian reminded Sidney.

“Ohh, the pride game! You’re getting more involved in it? That’s awesome,” Nina exclaimed. 

Sidney blushed as he smiled under Nina’s praise. 

“Would you be interested in being involved, Nina,” Brian asked.

Nina paused for a second, her eyes wide. “Um, sure.”

“I can get your contact information from Sidney,” Brian asked.

Nina nodded as Sidney rubbed his hand up and down her back. Sidney said, “I’ll let you know,” as Brian closed the door. 

Placing a hand over her face, Nina sighed. “Wow.”

“It’s fine. Look, your first volunteer project,” Sidney kidded. 

“I need to eat.”

**

The game against the Isles had gone well. Sidney had tallied two assists and a goal in a 4-2 win after having a four game slump. Normally post-game interviews were a necessary evil but he was a bit nervous this time. Not because he knew they were going to ask about getting out of his slump, but because of what he was going to say. 

The first couple of questions were easy softballs. Then Sidney was hit with the question that opened the door. 

“Sidney, great breaking your slump. There were rumors that your personal life was affecting your game on the ice. What do you think about that?”

Sidney looked at the reporters, all ready for him to give a cliche. Instead, Sidney admitted the truth. “My personal life was affecting my game on the ice. But we’ve fixed our issues and I’m glad.”

There was a pause, as if the reporters didn’t know where to start. Sidney looked at one of the PR interns to the side. The intern gave him a slight smile and a quick thumbs up. Sidney decided to continue, “We prefer to keep our relationship private for now but she means a lot to me and is very important to my life. I will not be answering any more questions about my relationship at this moment.”

Luckily, the rest of the questions were about hockey but Sidney knew that his statement was going to be a big part of what everyone was going to talk about. Once back in the locker room, Geno gave Sidney a big grin. Tanger said, “You did it?”

“Yeah but I’m serious, I’m not going to answer a bunch of questions about my personal life,” Sidney replied. “Now though, every time we struggle, the dumbasses will start talking about it.”

Tanger grimaced as Geno said, “Fuck them.”

Guentzy laughed as he stated, “I agree with Geno. Fuck them.”

Sidney laughed as he pulled his shirt off before pulling off his pads. Sitting in his crocs, hockey pants and pads, Sidney pulled out his phone. There was just one message from the only person who’s opinion mattered to him, wow😍 .

Sidney replied back, made it official for u but in the way u wanted 😁😏

😘🥰 part of me can’t believe it but i’m happy u listened to me, was Nina’s reply. 

Sidney texted, only 4 u, before finishing getting undressed so he could take a shower.

**

To be totally honest, Nina thought her life would have exploded the minute that Sidney admitted that he was seeing someone in the post-game conference after the Isles game. It wouldn’t take much to put 2 and 2 together, especially when she went out with Sidney and the Malkins to a popular Shadyside restaurant the day after. But things were relatively calmer. 

There were still the nasty looks from other people, especially women when Nina was out by herself, running her everyday errands. But there were also people who seemed to defer to her and it felt so fucking weird. Like, if she wanted to, Nina felt like people were ready to let her do whatever she wanted because she was now Sidney Crosby’s girlfriend. 

Nina bit her lip as she waited in line to pay for her groceries. Then someone bumped into her and it was Ron. “Hey Nina, long time no see.”

“Hi Ron,” Nina replied with a strained smile. 

“Not everyday one sees their ex. Look at you, shopping like the rest of us. Your man ain’t ordering groceries for you.”

Nina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She could feel the eyes of other people at Weis and she knew there were people looking for something to gossip about. Nina definitely didn’t want to give Ron the satisfaction of a reaction. She merely replied, “I have my own life I have to take care of on my own.”

“Oh wow, because I remember the way you two were looking at each other that time we went out on a date. Makes me think you were cheating on me with him,” Ron goaded. 

Nina gave him a blank look. “We were long over, for almost three years, before I went out with Sidney. But you had two other women when we were a couple,” Nina stated with a shrug. “Anyway, it’s my turn to check out. Bye.”

Nina tuned Ron out as she checked out. The cashier commented, “That guy seems like a dick.”

“You live and you learn,” Nina replied with a smile as she paid, unaware that someone had uploaded video of that encounter to the internet.

**

Sidney gulped down his protein shake, home after practice. The season was starting well but he felt like the team could be better. Sidney wanted another cup, one more cup and he felt like this was the year. Then his phone buzzed and he saw it was his mom.

“Hi Mom,” Sidney said, sitting on his sofa. He had some time before he needed to get ready for tonight and it was always good to talk to his mother.

Trina chirped, “Hi Sidney, how are you?”

“I’m doing good, short practice today before our game against New Jersey tomorrow,” Sidney idly replied as he turned his tv on. Flipping through Netflix, he chose an episode of How I Met Your Mother. 

He could hear his mother’s smile through the phone when she teased, “Your father told me you told the press that you are seeing someone last week. Is it that girl you kept talking about over the years?”

Sidney giggle-honked before admitting, “Yes, it is. I’m finally dating Nina.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? This is something totally different for you,” Trina asked, concerned. Her son had a relationship with Kathy but this situation with this new girl was something totally different. Part of her was worried that since Sidney had wanted this girl for so long, that he was diving into this without really thinking about it.

Sidney replied, “You sound like Nina.”

“Hmm, I do?”

“Yep, Mom, you did,” Sidney said, “Nina wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for a long time but I managed to convince her it was.”

Trina was still feeling skeptical. From what she knew, this girl was from the area, a fan of the team, a different race, and had worked for the team for a period of time. It was possible she could be playing the long game. “Is she there with you now?”

Knowing her son, Trina was convinced that Nina was already living with her son. Her son, when he decided he wanted something, went all out to get it. She was surprised when Sidney said, “No, she’s at work, then she has class.”

“Class,” Trina asked, her tone perking up. This sounded interesting. 

Sidney informed his mother, “Nina decided to get a PhD in rehabilitation science this year. She works as a physical therapist.”

“That sounds interesting, isn’t that how you met her,” Trina idly said. The door opened and Troy stepped in. Trina put her finger to her mouth to shush her husband. 

Sidney scratched his head, wondering where his mother was going with these questions. “Yes. Nina works somewhere else totally different now. But she’s looking into becoming a professor after guest lecturing at, I think, Pitt.”

Trina raised her eyebrows. That was interesting information. Switching the conversation to more mundane subjects, Trina filed that information in the back of her head. It sounded like this Nina was a bit more well-rounded than she thought. 

Sidney sighed when he hung up on his mother. That conversation felt like one thing but he could sense there was another undercurrent. Then he received a picture message from Nina and his mind went straight to the gutter. Sidney sighed; it was going to be a long night.

**

“You look very nice.”

Nina smiled as she replied, “Thank you,” to the guest. 

It was kind of last minute, this dinner that Nina found herself invited to. It was thrown by Nathalie and most of the top brass of the Penguins were here as well as Sidney, the Letangs, and the Malkins. Because Sidney had gone public with their relationship, Nina had found herself suddenly invited. Luckily for her, Nina already had an appropriate cocktail dress for the occasion. 

Her dress was black with an asymmetrical one shoulder with a bow but it came to just above knee level. Nina’s heels were gold, an impulse purchase several months ago that she was happy to have. The outfit was classy, understated, and definitely Penguins colors. 

Sidney seemed to like it as well from the way his arm stayed possessively around Nina’s waist whenever possible. At least it wasn’t a public event; the possessiveness would have looked bad. But because it was informal and in a private room at PPG arena, Sidney was able to get away with it. 

The length was a blessing and a curse. A blessing that it meant that Sidney couldn’t try to do any funny business during dinner but a curse in that the more he touched her, the more Nina wanted him. By the end of the night, it was obvious that Sidney was getting close to losing his cool and Nina was loving it. 

As soon as they got into the car at the end of the night, Sidney pounced. His lips touched hers, demanding and devouring as he kissed her. Then abruptly, Sidney let go. “You'd been torturing me all night in that little black dress. So sexy, the way it showed off my pretty girl’s body.”

Sidney already knew that Nina was perfect in every way anyway. However, as soon as he saw her step in with that black dress and gold heels, it took every ounce of media training and self-control for Sidney not to strip it off of her and fuck her right there. Right now, he was glad that he hired a car after this event. 

Sidney didn’t even do anything in the car other than keep his hand on Nina’s thigh. The difference was that he told Nina every filthy thing he planned to do to her once he got her home. Nina wiggled on the seat, her legs shifting as Sidney whispered what he planned to do to her. It was insane, what he could do to her with his words. 

Nina had expected Sidney to push her against the wall when they got back to his place but instead, he just guided Nina to the kitchen before taking out two glasses. Picking out a wine, Sidney poured two glasses. 

“I’ve missed you in my bed but I’m patient,” Sidney stated, his hands palming Nina’s ass before giving both cheeks a smack. Then Sidney picked up the glasses of wine and passed one to Nina.

Nina smirked. “I’m not,” she said as she took a sip. 

“Can’t be patient for me, pretty girl?”

Nina shrugged as she took another sip. Then she delicately licked a drop that was on her lower lip, causing Sidney to visibly grunt and shudder. “Maybe,” Nina finally replied. 

“Good.”

Sidney sat down in a chair and patted his lap. Nina sat on his lap, the hem of her dress riding up. “Did you have a good time?”

“I actually did for something that was pretty last minute. Don’t ask me if I remember everyone’s name yet.”

“That’s okay,” Sidney reassured Nina. “No one expects you to remember everyone, yet.”

Nina snorted before taking another sip of her wine. Idly, Sidney added, “Fuck, I love this dress.”

“Maybe if you move your hands higher underneath it, you’ll get a surprise,” Nina taunted. Licking her lips, she winked.

Unable to resist a challenge, Sidney moved his hand higher and higher. Then he whistled when he realized Nina’s surprise. “You went commando all night and didn’t tell me?”

“I’m lucky this dress was lined so well that no one could tell,” Nina admitted. “But it was worth it.”

“How,” Sidney asked as his hand touched Nina’s pussy. She was already wet.

Nina smirked. “Because I knew if you found out tonight, the look on your face would have been priceless.”

Sidney ignored that statement as he stroked Nina’s core with his fingers. Rolling her clit with his fingers, Sidney hissed at the idea that Nina was here, with him tonight. His pretty girl, perfect in his lap. "I love how wet you get for me, pretty girl."

"Only for you, daddy," Nina moaned as she clutched his shoulders. Sidney growled at her words, her pussy clenching harder on his fingers. 

Suddenly, Sidney picked Nina up and placed her on the table. Nina smiled as she hiked up her dress and spread her legs. Sidney licked his lips. “We’re gonna see how many times you cum for me tonight, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait,” Nina moaned as his mouth met her core.

**

Sidney woke, at first disoriented because someone else was in his bed and curled up on top of him. Then he realized it was Nina and he relaxed. Her head was on top of his chest, one arm on him as she slept on her side. Carefully extracting himself, Sidney went to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he watched Nina continue to sleep, now curled into herself. Sidney took a quick picture, it was so cute. However, after taking the picture, he checked his messages. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted.

Nina opened her eyes slowly, her body deliciously sore after last night. Stretching out her arms, she sleepily asked, “What’s wrong, Sid?”

“Seems like someone has something against you, pretty girl,” Sidney said, suppressing his fury. 

Nina’s eyes snapped open, sleep now forgotten. Sitting up, she queried, “What happened?”

“There's a video of you with some guy at a market.”

Grimacing, Nina sighed. “I ran into Ron while getting groceries. He was being a jagoff asshole.”

“You don’t look bad at all, PR thinks you handled it perfectly.”

Nina got off the bed and walked over to Sidney. Wrapping her arms around him, she pleaded, “Fuck him and fuck whoever took video.”

Snuggling into Sidney’s chest, Nina nipped one of his nipples. “Plot your revenge later, Sid. It’s eight am and I know you have a maintenance day today. Come back to bed.”

“‘Come back to bed?’ You know this is my bed,” Sidney joked. His anger was going away each second that Nina was pressed against him, her lips giving him little kisses and bites on his upper body. 

Nina looked up at Sidney, giving him soulful eyes. “Please, daddy?”

Trailing her hands around his neck, Nina murmured, “I’ve been so good. Please?”

“Fuck, how can I say no,” Sidney groaned as Nina giggled. Picking her up, he tossed her on the bed. 

Scooting back, Nina spread her legs as Sidney settled in the middle of them. “I love the way you fuck me, Sidney.”

Sidney smirked, his brown eyes smoldering as he crouched over Nina. “Oh do you?”

“Yes, I do,” Nina hummed, her fingers tugging on his chain. “You should do it again.”

Sidney settled between Nina’s thighs, pulling her legs around his waist. His lips lowered to hers in a gentle kiss. Slow and drugging, enough to make both of them red hot for each other, full of promise. Pulling away, Sidney nipped Nina’s lower lip. Nina sucked her lip into her mouth, her brown eyes meeting Sidney’s. Cupping Nina’s chin, Sidney reminded her, “How do you ask, pretty girl?”

“Please fuck me, daddy,” Nina asked, her body arching towards his. “Make me yours.”

“Good girl.”

**

Nina tried hard not to feel self-conscious as she made her way to the ice-level with Aryanna, Catherine and her children, and Anna with Nikita. It had been a week since that awful article with video from her interaction with Ron. It had been set up to make Nina look like a gold digging whore and it hurt to have guys, guys she had only gone out with once or twice, say things that made her seem horrible. Nina hadn’t admitted that part to Sid when he was in a fury about it. Lauren had reminded Nina that men tend to be assholes about women that they couldn’t have and that Nina was way beyond their level even before her current relationship. 

Even though Nina had distracted Sidney that morning, by the afternoon, that article was off the internet. A radio host had mentioned it and then within an hour, issued an apology for talking about it. However, it was forgotten pretty quickly as more people cared about the Steelers potentially staying undefeated with a game coming up against the Browns.

Nina smiled as they reached the ice. The team was doing warm-ups and Sidney was in the midst of his pregame rituals. She actually had more enjoyment from watching Aryanna react to watching the guys on the ice. Tanev gave the glass near them an ice shower while Geno and Kris had greeted Nina and Aryanna while saying hi to their families. Then, very unexpectedly, Sidney broke one of his traditions and came over. Giving the glass a small shower, Sidney waved at Aryanna before smirking at Nina. Nina smirked back before giving Sid a little wave. 

As people took pictures of Sid waving to her, Nina smiled. She could live with this, maybe. ‘No, that was a lie’, Nina thought as they made their way to the family box. She was going to have to live with this now, it was too far gone to go back. And she didn’t want to.

[ipuckwithhockey]

History Repeats Itself- B. Boeser

a/n: This somehow ended up being around 11k words, so I hope y’all enjoy it! Also, I only did a quick scan for grammar and spelling so sorry if there are errors!

summary: You and Brock met once back in college when you were still committed to your high school boyfriend. Years later you’re single and older and just starting a new job in Vancouver. The only question now is whether or not you will take the opportunity to rewrite your own history.

warnings: None that I can think of

“So, are you in or no?” Y/N’s roommate asks her as they walk out of the library and toward their dorm. 

“I don’t think so Mags, I actually have some studying to catch up on.” You reply unconvincingly. Midterms of your first semester at the University of North Dakota just came to a close, and your excuse of having homework on a Friday night wasn’t convincing anyone. 

“Y/N, seriously? You aced all of your midterms and we just spent three hours in the fucking library! Live a little! The hockey team is having a huge party, and the guys are really fun AND super hot! You deserve this!” Maggie tries to convince you to come out to a party that the UND Hockey team is having tonight, and you tell yourself not to give in. 

“Maggie, I have a boyfriend. And you know they don’t let guys who aren’t on the team into their parties. God, it’s basically a frat.” You scoff at the idea of a frat party, but there’s still a small part of you that wants to experience the chaos of a real college party. That’s probably why it ends up being so easy for Maggie to convince you to slip into a pair of skinny jeans and a cute top before embarking on a night out.  

“Y/N, this is Nick and Brock. They’re both in my econ class. Nick is a sophomore, but Brock here is a freshman like us!” Maggie happily introduces you to the two tall boys as you enter an old musty house, full to the brim with college kids. The air smells like stale alcohol and you take note that your shoes are somehow already sticky. You’re not sure if it’s from something you stepped in or if it’s just the floor in general. 

“Hey, nice to meet you.” You shake Brock’s hand that he’s extended for you and you can’t help but stare a little too long, taking in his blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes. 

You had to admit though, Katie was right, these guys are super hot. You can already tell your roommate has her eye on this Nick guy, and it actually looks like he might be interested in her too. He’s just her type— He’s hot and he knows it, and his dark hair and striking features draw the eyes of nearly every girl in the room. The blonde boy who stands across from you is quite honestly the opposite of Nick. Brock is also undeniably good-looking, but he’s shy and his light hair and soft smile make him seem less intimidating than his friend. 

Nick finds you and Katie some drinks and some other girls you’ve become friends with show up to the party a little later. The boys come and go as they mingle with other people and their teammates, but Nick tends to stay close by to Maggie and you catch glimpses of Brock occasionally. Apparently his shyness doesn’t apply to his teammates. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch him and his friends dance together to some shitty remix of a song you used to blast on your way to school. You’re actually having a great time, but you can’t hear your phone ringing over the music that’s blaring through the house you’re in. Later, Nick offers to walk you and Maggie home after a few hours of living like a real college kid, and Brock ends up tagging along since he apparently lives in the same building. 

“So, how come we haven’t met you before tonight? This one talks about you all the time.” The four of you are walking across campus and Nick has Maggie under his arm as he asks why you never seem to be with your roommate. 

“She has a boyfriend. And I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to having fun.” Maggie quips as some of the alcohol she’s consumed tonight gives her the courage to openly criticize your relationship. 

“Maggie.” You say in a warning tone. “He’s just not a big partier, and usually I’m not either.” You shove at her shoulder lightly. Maggie was nice and you liked being her roommate, but when you first met and told her you had followed your high school boyfriend across the country to attend a university in “North fucking Dakota” she immediately expressed how crazy she thought you were. In her eyes there was no way that a couple who started dating when they were fifteen would last forever. You disagreed, which is why you turned down your scholarship to an ivy league and followed your boyfriend to North Fucking Dakota. His family was from North Dakota, and for some reason everyone in their family had to go to school there too. At the time, you didn’t see it as giving something up, you saw it as you and your boyfriend starting a life together outside the confines of your hometown. 

“So, what floor do you live on, Brock?” Maggie asks as the four of you make your way up to your building. 

“I’m on 4— Room 405. What about you guys?” Brock asks back. 

“We’re 219.” You say back before you’re startled as you hear another voice you’re not exactly expecting.  

“Y/N! Where the hell have you been?” The group you’re with is almost to the doors of your dorm building when a perturbed voice yells for you.  

“Uh- Owen. What are you doing here?” You’re surprised to see your boyfriend standing in front of you, looking like he’s seeing red. You weren’t even supposed to be seeing him at all tonight. He had told you he was going to be occupied for the evening while he was studying for his physics exam. You hadn’t told him you were going to the party, but at the time you didn’t think it was important. Owen preferred that you didn’t bother him while he was studying, so you decided against calling him before your night out. 

“I’ve been calling you for like two hours— God have you been drinking?” The rest of the group you were with tonight looks uncomfortable to say the least, and you can’t blame them. Owen wasn’t the best at saving face, especially when he felt like someone hadn’t upheld the standards that he had set out for them. Now he just looked like a dad reprimanding their child, and a wave of embarrassment quickly washed over you.

“I just- We went to a party. I didn’t think you’d mind. You were supposed to be studying all night,” You say sheepishly, as you begin to regret letting Maggie convince you to go out. Before Owen can clap back again, Maggie nudges you and tells you that the three of them are going to go, not wanting to invade on your private life any longer. 

When they’re gone, Owen starts again, “This just isn’t like you. I’m so disappointed.” You feel bad now, you know you haven’t done anything wrong, but Owen’s words make you feel like you have, so you tuck your tail between your legs as follow him back to his dorm and apologize for what you did. 

That was almost five years ago. You dated Owen for longer than you’d like to admit but eventually you removed your rose-colored glasses and broke up with him. You graduated from UND and got a second chance at your Ivy League dreams when went to graduate school. Now, you’ve completed your masters and have been offered a promotion at you job. The only catch was that the new position required you to move to the west coast… of Canada. 

You moved almost two months ago, and your raise was enough to allow you to move into a nice building downtown. Work takes up most of your time now, so you haven’t been able to explore the city as much as you would like, but you can already tell your decision to make Vancouver your new home was a good one. The laid back and easy feeling you get from this city is completely different from the big east coast metropolis you had been living in before, and even though you’re working more than ever, you feel like you can actually breathe here. 

Since your breakup with Owen your senior year at UND, you’ve taken time to take back your life. You try your best not to ponder on the past anymore, and you focus on your own future. It can’t be denied that at first it was hard not to remain bitter at the idea that you had so willingly given up many things in your life, for a boy who took them too eagerly. You worked through it though and took back your life by focusing on your own goals and working on furthering your own career. The past is the past now, and you were ready to start this new life in Vancouver. 

*

“I actually can’t believe you’re wearing that.” Elias mocks at Brock as they step out of the elevator and into the lobby of Brock’s apartment building. Brock is sporting a bucket hat, and even though he knows Elias is joking, he wonders if he shouldn’t have just left the hat sitting on his kitchen counter. The two of them are bickering back and forth about their fashion choices, and Brock almost misses you as you walk past him. Almost. He recognizes you immediately even though your hair is longer, and your face doesn’t look so much like a kid’s anymore. 

“Hey, nice to meet you.” Brock extends his hand, hoping he doesn’t seem too nervous to the pretty girl he has just been introduced to. He’s a freshman, and a star on the UND hockey team, which kind of makes him North Dakotan royalty. Since starting college, he’s learned what to say and how to say it, to get a girl’s attention, but he’s not the overly confident guy that his friend, Nick is. Nick lays it on thick and loves the attention he gets. Brock likes it, it’s fun, but he’s more laid back, and not as worried about getting the girl. He just likes to have a good time with his friends and doesn’t really need all of the extra attention. 

He would however like to have your attention. He makes some friendly conversation with you over the course of the night, but you stick close to your girlfriends, and he can’t tell if you’re not interested or if you just aren’t catching what he’s putting down. 

Later that night, when Nick tells Brock that he is going to walk you and your roommate home, he’s quick to tag along. Even though he lives in the same building, he probably would have stayed at the party a little longer if you hadn’t been going with them. On the walk across campus, the four of you make some small talk, and Brock knows that Nick definitely thinks he’s getting laid tonight. 

Brock can’t help but hope that Nick getting laid will mean you will need a hideout for a couple hours while your roommate occupies your shared room. Even though he’d happily accept it, he doesn’t think he’ll be getting laid. Brock just hopes that he’ll have some time to get to know you a little bit better, maybe get your number, and then eventually ask you out. It’s right then that Nick asks why they’ve never met you. 

“She has a boyfriend. And I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to having fun.”  Maggie replies, and Brock can’t help but be disappointed. You had a boyfriend. So it wasn’t that you weren’t interested, well it was, but it was only because you were already taken. Maybe you had even caught on to his light flirting, and he can’t help but think how embarrassing that is.  

This embarrassment honestly wasn’t as bad as what was to come next. Brock isn’t sure if his secondhand embarrassment is worse than the embarrassment that you’re probably feeling as the guy, who is presumably your boyfriend, yells at you for going to a party. He can tell that you’re trying to play it cool, you’re definitely uncomfortable with scene that is unfolding. Brock isn’t sure what to do, and him and Nick exchange a few quick glances as to say, “what the fuck?” And next, he’s incredibly thankful that Maggie steps in to tell you that they’re going to head into the building. 

“What the fuck was that?” Nick asks as the three of them get out of earshot from you and Owen.  

“Meet Owen, the illustrious high school boyfriend.” Maggie’s sarcasm is clear, and Brock is surprised that someone who seems so sweet could be dating a guy like that. 

That hockey party his first semester at UND was the last time Brock spoke to you. He left after his sophomore year when he signed with the Canucks and before he left, when he would see you on campus, you were usually with the jerk he only briefly encountered that first night. When you would pass him in the hallway of your dorm or even around campus you would usually avoid meeting his eye or offer one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles. Brock would always smile back, and he would wonder if you were actually happy with that guy, and occasionally he would tell himself that he could make you happier. 

You felt bad as you essentially avoided him for the first few weeks after that party, but it got easier as time went on. The two of you barely knew each other, but for some reason every time that you did pass him, you were still enamored by his kind eyes and generous smile that only made you feel worse for avoiding him. Over time your friends, like Maggie, would eventually fall to the waste side too as your boyfriend continued to control your life. Maggie stopped asking you to hang out and when you moved in with Owen after your freshman year, you basically lost all connection with her. Everyone probably thought that you were a massive bitch because they perceived your actions as you choosing your boyfriend over them. They weren’t wrong, but you didn’t know at the time, that your priorities were extremely misguided. 

Brock’s little crush was soon forgotten when he dove headfirst into the NHL. He was busy trying to establish himself in the league, and he found himself in a few lackluster relationships that usually ended in a mutual agreement that it just wasn’t working. He was a good guy, and even though he wasn’t a saint, he preferred to get to know a girl and take her to dinner before anything else. The girls he dated usually fell pretty hard for him. He’s unmistakably attractive and his endearing personality make him incredibly charming. They knew that they couldn’t hold on to him forever and that he didn’t want to hurt them, so they let him go and hoped that they would find another guy that was half as good.

Seeing you now is like a breath of fresh air for Brock; his little crush immediately rising to the surface after being buried away for so long. 

“Y/N?” Brock lightly touches you on your arm to get your attention. You’re lost in the email you’re replying to on your phone, and you’re more than surprised when you turn to see the same light blue eyes that you met your freshman year of college. 

“Brock?” It’s the only thing that your brain can formulate right now. Brock Boeser is probably the only person you know in Vancouver and yet he’s standing in front of you right now. You haven’t seen or spoken to him in years, and you can’t believe that he even remembers you. 

“Hey, I thought that was you.” Brock says, as Elias notices the big smile that’s plastered across his friend’s face. “What are you doing in Vancouver?” Brock asks, wondering how a girl from the east coast who went to school in North Dakota, somehow ended up in Vancouver. 

“I um- I live here. I just moved for my job a couple months ago,” You tell him.

“Oh, no way! Vancouver’s great, I’m sure you’ll love it here.” He replies, still taking in the fact that you’re standing in front of him. 

“Yeah, I like it so far,” you say. “Do you live here? – Or I guess, in the building?” You ask. You know that he lives in Vancouver, you’re aware of his hockey career, but you’ve lived here for a couple months and have never seen him around. 

“Yeah, I’ve been back in Minnesota for most of the summer, so I just got back a couple days ago.” He tells you. You never really put much thought into where athletes go after their season ends, but it makes sense that they would go back to wherever they call home. 

Elias nudges Brock to remind him that he’s still standing awkwardly beside him. “Oh, this is Petey,” Brock turns to introduce you to his friend that you already recognize, “It’s Elias, nice to meet you.” Elias says as he offers his hand to you. 

“Yeah, I know.” You let out a light laugh and think about all of the Vancouver Canucks posters you’ve seen him on throughout the city. You’ve seen posters of Brock too, but you barely even know the guy, so it’s never really struck you as anything out of the ordinary. 

“Are you a Canucks fan?” Elias asks.  

You laugh a little, “Oh, no. I don’t follow hockey or really any sports, but everyone at work does, so I’ve been trying to learn a bit about it to keep up with the water cooler conversations.” You laugh again because it’s true. You’ve never really been tuned into sports, but your new office is basically all men, and they’re all huge Canucks fans, so your google searches of the team’s stats and roster have helped you become familiar with the team before their season starts. 

“Well, you’ll have to come to a game some time.” Brock tells you. 

“Um yeah. Maybe.” You offer back, mentally debating on if that would ever actually happen, but knowing that he’s only being polite. “I um- I’ve actually got to go, but it was great running into you.” You smile, and say goodbye to the two blonde boys and make your way up to your apartment. 

Brock Boeser lives in your building. Again. You laugh, thinking about how funny it is that history is repeating itself. He’s just as cute as he was the first time you met, but the truth is you barely know each other, and you’re sure he remembers that you were probably a massive bitch in college who avoided him at all costs. You don’t let the thought of him linger too long and push it to the side to get on the realities of your life instead of continuing to mull over the past.  

*

Over the next month or so, you continue to run into Brock in the elevator or in the lobby of your building. He always says hi and greets you with the same sweet smile. You make polite conversation and he’s so charming sometimes that it makes you blush. It starts off with awkward hellos and goodbyes, then you start to make small talk, and soon enough conversation between the two of you becomes pretty effortless. His little jokes are usually so dumb, but they make you laugh and you truly appreciate that he’s always so nice. You start to open up a bit more and aren’t as hesitant when he asks you innocent questions about your life. 

You got to meet Coolie and Milo the other day, and Brock says that they are particularly fond of you. They both seem to be the sweetest dogs in the world, so you’re sure they’re just as good for everyone else. You see them ever so often when Brock takes them on walks around town, and he loves the way your eyes light up when you see his furry kids.

Brock usually asks you how work is going, even though your advanced corporate job goes way over his head, and you ask him about hockey, which you also have little to no knowledge of. You both usually give short and uninteresting answers like “great” or “it’s going.” Then, just as Brock is trying to find more ways to get to know you, you tell him that you’ve been trying to educate yourself more on hockey. You explain that you primarily work with men, and these men happen to be very keyed in on the sport and particularly on the Vancouver Canucks. Now, every time he sees you, he asks you what you’ve learned. 

Your conversations are still fairly short, but you tell him when you’ve finally learned all of the NHL team names, and understand each of the hockey positions. You explain some of the penalties and you’re pretty proud of yourself when your explanation of offsides gets an approval. When he asks you who you’ve decided your favorite player is, you tell him you like “that Boeser kid,” but not as much as you like Elias Pettersson. This gets a big laugh from him, and he tells you he doesn’t disagree with your analysis. This is a turning point for the two of you. Brock can tell that you’re becoming more comfortable with him, and he likes seeing this lighter side of you. 

One day when you pass him in the parking lot, he’s on his way to a game, dressed in suit, but with a beanie on his head. You’ve seen him like this a number of times before, and you really don’t understand why he insists on covering up his beautiful hair with various hats. You also don’t mind admiring how good he looks in his game day apparel. He’s good looking, and it’s not a crime to admire that. 

As you walk toward each other in the parking lot he calls out to you, “Hey, you learn anything new this week?” You laugh, because he usually starts the conversation like this, asking if you’ve studied up or done your homework. 

“Actually, I have a question for you.” You tell him as you come up, stopping before you would pass each other. 

“Okay, shoot.” He says. 

“Well, that’s actually your job, but my question has to do with goalie interference. I just don’t really understand it. I was trying to find videos of calls during games, but all of the calls seem kind of inconsistent.” You tell him, and he laughs at your shooting joke, leaving you feeling proud for a moment. He’s also laughing because you’re right. No one fucking knows what goalie interference is. 

“Yeah, I’m not even sure what goalie interference is half the time. But if you figure it out let me know!” He answers. You laugh, and the two of you begin to part ways. 

Before he makes it to his car you shout back, “Oh, Good luck tonight!” 

He smiles and thanks you before opening his car door and on his way to the rink he thinks about all of the little conversations the two of you have had over the course of last couple of months. His crush has only continued to grow, and Elias keeps nagging him to ask you out, but he’s not even sure if you’re single. With his luck, you’re probably married to that asshole from college, although he hasn’t noticed you with anyone and he hasn’t seen a ring on your finger. 

After that night Brock decided he needed to figure out if you were single or not, so that he could move on from his infatuation with you instead of wasting his time pining over a girl who was already taken. You’re always polite, and more recently you’ve become more and more comfortable joking and bantering with him, but sometimes you give him a look like you’re not sure what to say. 

That look is the look you get when you contemplate how you got here. Years ago, you couldn’t have fathomed having a simple conversation with Brock, but now you see him on a regular basis and make conversation like you’ve been friends for years. You appreciate his willingness to talk with you, and you enjoy your interactions more and more every day.

Brock knows that on Sunday morning you usually go for a walk down to the coffee shop on the corner, so today he grabs Coolie and Milo and heads for the door, hoping he’ll be lucky enough to run into you. He makes it all the way to the coffee shop without seeing you and he’s praying that when he opens the door to the store that you’ll be waiting inside. 

No such luck. 

When he doesn’t see you standing inside, he decides he should at least buy a coffee instead of awkwardly walking out. After he picks up his drink he walks across the street to the park so that Coolie and Milo can get some exercise. For some reason, the gods are on his side today, and a few minutes into his walk he sees you sitting on a bench under a tree, reading a book. 

He doesn’t get to secretly admire how pretty you look sitting there, with the sun streaming down through the limbs of the trees, because Milo and Coolie have spotted you and are actively dragging him in your direction. You’re stirred from your reading and when you look up you see two big fur balls running toward you, their owner not far behind them. 

“Hey! Sorry about them.” Brock apologizes as he tries to calm the dogs down. You’re laughing and smiling because Coolie has jumped up on the bench beside you. Brock tells them to get down as they continue to try and jump for your attention, and they eventually settle at his side. 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all. I feel the same way when I see them,” you say, and it gets a light chuckle from Brock. He loves that you get so excited to see them and he cherishes the way your eyes light up when you reach down to pet them. He’s not sure what to say now, and before the silence gets too awkward you ask him if he wants to sit while motioning to the spot next to you. He gladly accepts your offer, and he sits down next to you.

“What are you reading?” He asks, attempting to facilitate some conversation. 

You turn over the book in your hand so that he can see the cover, “It’s called Normal People.” You say before giving him a brief description. You also tell him it’s a series on Hulu and he says he’ll opt to watch that instead of reading the book, earning another laugh from you. 

“So, did you leave the boyfriend behind or did you bring him with you?” He asks referring to some of the plot points of the book you had described to him. The question surprises you because one, there wasn’t a boyfriend, and two, why would Brock think there was a boyfriend? Your mind works fast enough to figure he might think that you’re still with Owen, but over the last couple months you don’t think you’ve given him any reason to think you would still be with him. 

“Neither I guess. I didn’t have a boyfriend to leave or bring.” You answer, looking over at Brock. You’re sure you almost hear what sounds like a sigh of relief from him, but it happened too quickly to tell. 

“I guess you and that guy from college didn’t work out?” Brock asks cautiously. He’s trying not to seem too eager, but he’s dying to know what ever happened between you and that jerk. 

You let out a light laugh as you think back to your previous relationship, “No, it definitely didn’t work out.” You say back. “We were obviously super young; we started dating when we were fifteen,” you sigh. “Anyway, I think it just took some time to realize I wasn’t going to marry a guy I thought was cute in my 9th grade biology class. We just didn’t have anything in common anymore. And he turned out to be a total jerk.” It feels surprisingly easy talking to Brock about this. You’ve felt so much shame and embarrassment for staying with this guy from high school for so long, but Brock’s eyes don’t convey any judgement or reason to feel ashamed. 

After that you gracefully shift the conversation to Brock’s love life. It was only fair, and when you asked him if he had a special lady- or man in his life, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. It isn’t because you asked him if he was perhaps seeing a man, but because he was just so flustered by you and your questioning of his love life at all. 

“Nope. No ladies... Or men for that matter.” He says with a little laugh. 

“Really? A star hockey player like you doesn’t have girls lined up waiting for their chance to be with you?” You tease, as you can see, he’s still blushing a bit. You don’t think much of it, other than that he’s probably just shy about those things, but you don’t really feel too bad about teasing him.  He continues to convince you that there aren’t any other ladies in his life, and eventually the topic of conversation is forgotten. 

Brock walks back to the apartment building with you, and when you get in the elevator you remember that you’re going to be attending a Canucks game next week, “I almost forgot! I’m going to the Preds game next week!” You tell him, and his expression lights up hearing you say that you’ll be attending one of his games. “Some of the guys from work invited me to go with them. I think I’ve really won them over with my new hockey knowledge,” You tell him proudly. 

Some of the guys from work who are particularly invested in the hockey team invited you to come with them to a game, and you happily accepted the invitation. You had proven yourself to them as a colleague and now as a hockey fan too. 

“I guess we’ll have to get a win for you guys.” Brock replies confidently. The Canucks have had a great record lately and it looks like their winning streak is just getting started. “You better!” You say before the elevator stops on your floor and you tell him you’ll see him later, leaving Brock to think about everything he’s learned about you that morning. 

*

It’s Thursday, and this week has been hell. 

Sadly, you’re used to dedicating most of your time to work, but this week has been a total shit show, for lack of better words. A big account you’ve been working on decided at the last minute that they wanted something completely different, causing you and your team to have to work some crazy hours this week. By Thursday you’re practically a zombie due to your lack of sleep. The hours you have spent at home have been minimal, as you’ve gotten home past ten almost every night this week, and you leave in the morning again before 7. 

The guys on your team have all been working crazy hours too, but you’ve been taking the lead on this campaign, so you’ve made sure to be there early and late every single day. They can tell you’re just about out of gas, and they send you home early, telling you to rest up for the big presentation tomorrow. You try to argue, but they’re right, you need a break. You surrender and head home after stopping to get some takeout, knowing that your fridge at home is starkly empty. 

“Ms.Y/L/N, I’ve got a package for you.” Paul, the concierge of your building tells you as you pass him on your way to the elevators. You haven’t made any online purchases as of late, and you don’t remember anyone telling you they were sending you anything. Still, you wait patiently as he goes to the back room to grab it. When Paul returns he’s holding a decent sized shopping bag. You’re not sure what it could be, but you take the bag and thank him, too focused on getting up to your apartment and out of your work pants. 

As soon as the door to your apartment is closed behind you, you drop your bags onto the kitchen counter and slip out of your dress pants. Your bra follows shortly, and you settle into your couch with your take out. The rest of your evening is spent lounging on the couch, catching up on your shitty reality tv shows and taking a break from work. When you look down at your phone and see that it’s only 8:30 you tell yourself it’s too early to go to bed, but you’re exhausted and you bed is calling to you. As you gather your dishes and clean up your kitchen you’re reminded of the package you picked up on your way in. 

The bag is still sitting on the counter where you left it a few hours ago. You take a minute to think about what it could be or who it could be from, but nothing comes to mind. When you open the bag all you see is some blue fabric. It feels like clothes, so you dump it over on to your counter and come to find that the bag is full of what looks like Vancouver Canucks gear. You’re in surprised to say the least. There are multiple pieces of clothing laying in front of you, and you’re sure it’s at least a few hundred dollars worth of apparel. There’s a note too, but you choose to look through the other contents first. 

First off, there’s a navy blue hoodie with the classic Cancuks logo. There are two t-shirts, one has the Canucks throwback logo on it and the other has the pride logo printed on the front. You smile at that, knowing that he obviously knew you would like that one. Next, is a Canucks beanie with a pompom on the top. Finally, you unfold a royal blue jersey. You’re expecting to see a number six on the back but instead your eyes land on the number 40. You can’t help but feel a little sad for a minute, knowing he didn’t get you a jersey with his number on it. 

Alas, you unfold the piece of paper that was sitting in the bottom of the bag and it reads:

I figured you might need some gear for the game Saturday. I hope everything fits okay. 

If you ever need anything I’m Apt. 859, *his phone number* 

-Brock

P.S. Petey insisted that I include his jersey since he’s “your favorite.”

You don’t feel as bad about it not being a Boeser jersey now, and you use a magnet to hang the note up on your fridge before folding your new gear and heading to bed, grinning ear to ear. 

Your presentation goes off without a hitch the next day and you and your coworkers are ready to let loose a bit for the Cancuks game the following evening. You meet up with them at a bar that’s not far from the arena, and you grab a round of drinks before you head into the game. The four co-workers you meet up with take note of your Pettersson jersey, and you smile, satisfied with their praises. A couple of them are sporting jerseys too, one with Horvat and the other with a Boeser. You don’t mention that you know the guy who actually wears number 6, and when he scores the game winning goal you cheer just as loud as everyone else, but secretly you’d like to think it was because he knew you were there in the stands. 

When you get home after the game you shoot Brock a quick text.

You: nice goal tonight! i think this pettersson jersey is lucky! (10:54pm)

You: this is y/n btw (10:54pm)

You’re not sure if he’ll reply so you set your phone down and start to go through your nightly routine. A few minutes later you hear your phone buzz from your night stand. 

Brock: petey didn’t even score tonight and you’re still talking about him? maybe i’ll just take that jersey back (11:01pm)

You: hey, no take backs. but it was a very nice goal!  (11:03pm)

Brock: how was your first game? (11:07pm)

You: my second favorite player scored, my team won, and my co-workers were impressed with my vast hockey knowledge so i’d say it went pretty well! (11:13pm)

You spend some time debating on how to word your message, not wanting to send a reply too fast, and not wanting to seem to flirty, but you still let yourself tease him a little bit more before hitting send. 

Brock: HAHA. very funny. (11:14pm)

Brock: i’m glad you had a good time. (11:14pm)

Brock: we’ll have to get you to more games. it looks like you might be good luck. (11:15pm)

*

Sunday morning is your time to relax. You try not to do any work and opt to take some time for yourself. This can take many forms, like lounging around the house or even reorganizing your bathroom. Today you opt for baking. You bake a couple dozen brownies and place them in a container before slipping on some shoes to head up a few floors. 

You hadn’t given it much thought until you were standing outside of his apartment door, but the two really only interact in the hallways or elevator and you’ve never been to each other’s apartments. The brownies in your hand are probably getting colder by the minute, and you know they taste the best when they’re still warm so you convince yourself to bring your knuckles to the door. 

The person who answers the door isn’t Brock. The boy who answers is shorter and has dark hair. You recognize him as Quinn Hughes. Brock told you once that they call him huggy bear, but you’re not totally sure you know why. 

“Uh-“ There aren’t words coming out of his mouth, it’s more like an awkward sound that you think it is meant to convey some sort of confusion. 

“Um, Is Brock here?” You ask, offering a smile to the boy in front of you. 

“Oh, yeah. Um, come on in.” Quinn doesn’t really know if he should be letting someone into his friends apartment, but Brock made him answer the door so he didn’t feel so bad about inviting a stranger in. 

You walk through the door and take in Brock’s home. It’s similar to yours, but slightly bigger. He lives on a different side of the building so the windows are slightly different too. You follow Quinn into the living room where you see Elias and Brock and Jake Virtanen sitting on the couch playing video games. The dogs notice you first as you walk in and Quinn nudges Brock telling him someone is here for him before he turns around to see you. 

“Y/N! To what do we owe the pleasure?” He asks as he stands from the couch. 

“I uh, I just wanted to bring you these. I figured it’s the least I could do since you got me that lucky Pettersson jersey.” He lets out a solid laugh at that. You liked it when he laughed like that. He lets his head hang back and his hand rests on his stomach. 

“Well thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.” He says as you hand him the box of brownies. He walks over to the kitchen counter and pulls the lid off.  The smell of freshly baked brownies starts to fill the room, and the other boys are at the counter before you know it. 

“Oh shit. Those look good.” Jake says as he eyes the baked goods.

The boys are quiet for the next couple minutes except for some humming and “yum” sounds that escape between bites.  A couple dozen brownies is apparently no match for four hockey players. You swear half the box vanishes in front of your eyes as they compliment you on your baking abilities. You mentally thank your mom for the perfected family recipe that you practically have memorized. They make friendly conversation, besides Quinn who has remained rather quiet, except for offering a few side comments or sounds of agreement. Eventually Elias asks you more about how your first game hockey game went. 

Elias is observant and incredibly well spoken, and he’s making what could have been an awkward situation a very pleasant one. He guides most of the conversation as Brock becomes more comfortable with the dynamic of you being there with his other friends. It’s cute how close Brock and Elias are. Even just standing in the kitchen you can tell the two of them have a bond that’s different than the ones between the other boys. Brock is sometimes shy and blushy when the two of you talk, but with his friends he’s more bold and sure of himself. 

The small talk is getting thin, and you’re about to politely end the conversation and tell them you should go when Jake asks how you and Brock know each other. You don’t know why you hesitate, but you do, and you look at Brock who is standing next to you. Before you can decide how to answer Brock replies simply, “We went to UND together back in the day.”

“I guess we don’t really know each other very well, but we had some mutual friends.” You try to add and clarify.  

“Oh cool,” Jake replies, not really giving it much thought. “So are you liking the city so far?” he asks. 

“I like it a lot , I just haven’t had a lot of free time outside of work to explore. But, my co-workers finally like me since I know all about hockey now, and the one girl in our office is my best and only friend!” You laugh at yourself a bit, because you know it sounds a little sad that you’re a young twenty-something with zero signs of a social life. It earns some laughs from the guys too. 

“You should come out with us next weekend, you gotta experience Vancouver’s night life! Plus, we’re celebrating my dog’s birthday!” Jake exclaims, and you can see Elias rolling his eyes and Brock and Quinn are both laughing while shaking their heads. 

You look between the boys, a bit confused, “Your what? Your dog’s birthday?” 

Jake laughs too when you seem so confused about it, “It seemed like a good excuse to go out. Gotta keep it loose, ya know?” He seems serious about this and you can’t help but laugh. The guys explain that they don’t get out too often during the season, and some of them don’t even like going out, but sometimes it’s good to just let loose with the boys. Jake is one who particularly enjoys a good night out, and so occasionally when the boys haven’t frequented a bar in a while, he comes up with “reasons to celebrate.” Elias sounds like a dad when he says that they all just go along with it to make Jake happy, and Jake looks like a little kid when he rolls his eyes at them. He’s also quick to make the point that they always end up having a good time. 

“You obviously don’t have to come, but I think it’ll be fun, and you should bring your friend. Her name’s Jade, right?” You’ve talked to Brock about Jade a couple times in the past, but you didn’t really think he would have listened that intently or that he would remember your co-workers name. It’s nice knowing that he does. 

“Yeah, it’s Jade. I guess I could ask her if she’s free and let you know.” You tell him, still contemplating if you even want to go out to some busy club on a Saturday night. 

*

“So, uh— What are you doing this weekend?” You ask Jade, your co-worker as you walk into her office. She’s the only other girl in your office, and you’ve become good friends over the last few months. Her dark hair and dark features match her bold and strong personality. Jade constantly bugs you to get out more, especially on the weekends, but you usually curb her requests saying that you’re still getting settled into the new city. This excuse was wearing thin since you’ve been here almost four months now, and you knew you would have to give in to her requests soon. Instead, you’ve opted to invite her to go out with Brock and his friends this weekend. Or rather, pray she would go with you because there was no way you were going alone. 

“I don’t know, probably nothing because my friend is a loner who doesn’t ever leave her house.” Jade looks over at you with a knowing expression causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Your loner friend actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out this weekend.” You say mimicking her cadence.  “That guy from college who lives in my building is celebrating his friend’s dog’s birthday, so him and some of their friends are all going out.” When you explain why Brock’s friends are going out you realize again just how ridiculous it sounds, and you know it’s not really why they’re going to a bar to get hammered, but you relay the information anyway. 

You told Jade about “the guy from college” that you had run into in your apartment building, but you didn’t tell her that the guy was Brock Boeser. You were sure she knew who he was, even if she wasn’t shy with her discontent with sports. She’s just not a sports person, but anyone in Vancouver would immediately recognize the name of one of their biggest players. All you told her was that you had gone to UND together and that you had never really been friends, just that you had mutual friends. 

She never asked more about who he was, but she did ask if he was cute. You couldn’t lie, it would be sinful to do so about a man who was as good looking as Brock, so you told her the truth. You also told her how good of a guy he was and that he never hesitates to start a conversation with you. Since then, she has asked for regular updates on your interactions together. Even though you withheld some crucial information, you still told her about how he liked talking about hockey and that he had gotten you some Canucks gear to wear to the game. When you told her about that she insisted that he liked you, and part of you wanted to believe that, but another part of you knew that you and Brock still barely knew each other. 

He seems really sweet, but you can’t help but feel like he still has plenty of girls vying for his attention. Girls who are prettier and smarter and nicer than you. When you think back to those brief interactions with him it still gives you a feeling of anxiety. It’s the kind of anxiety that you get when you remember something embarrassing you did as a kid or when you’re trying to fall asleep and you remember that you said “you too” to the barista who said “come again!” Either way, you weren’t convinced that your limited interactions warranted any feelings on either of your parts, so you continued to try to suppress your growing feelings for him.

Luckily, Jade was happy to oblige your request of going out. She asked if your friend had any cute single friends, and while you weren’t quite sure if they were single, you said yes figuring that one of them had to be.

“Y/N, It’s me!” You hear Jade come in through your apartment door that you had left unlocked for her. It’s Saturday night and you’re getting ready to go out with Brock and his teammates. You still haven’t told Jade who he is, and you’re hoping she doesn’t freak out when she finds out. 

“I’m in my closet!” You shout back to Jade as she makes her way through your apartment. She finds you sitting inside your walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear, “I’m having a crisis. I have no idea what I should wear.” You look over at her precisely curated outfit that’s perfect for a night out. She looks hot and it’s just enough to not be overdone. He hair is flawlessly sleek and her make up looks like an artist painted it on. 

“Stop moping. You’re just nervous because he’s cute and you like him. Go make us some drinks and I’ll pick out your outfit.” You don’t put up a fight, knowing that she’ll probably be able to piece together a great ensemble that you never would have thought of. Your strengths were probably better suited for making cocktails anyway, so you go to the kitchen and whip up a couple of drinks. 

On your way back to your room you turn on your “going out” playlist that hasn’t been touched in ages, and when the first drop of alcohol touches your tongue you automatically feel less anxious. She’s right, you totally have a crush on this guy, and you’re super nervous about going out with him and his friends. What’s worse, is that this was pretty much a pity invite, and him and his friends feel bad that you don’t know anyone else in the city.  

Brock’s night was going somewhat similarly to yours. When Elias got to his apartment for the pregame he found Brock standing in only his boxers with a pile of clothes covering his closet floor. Elias couldn’t help but laugh at him. He hasn’t seen Brock act this way about a girl in a long time. Come to think of it, he’s not even sure if he’s ever seen Brock act like this. Brock was sensitive, but he wasn’t anxious like this. He wouldn’t get tied up in things like what to wear or what to say to a girl. He did however, have the issue of falling way too hard way too fast, ending up in situations where girls left him after they got what they wanted. Over the years he’s learned how to guard his heart a bit better, and his friends, Elias especially, were always there to protect him. 

Elias likes you. He liked you the minute he met you. He was intuitive and was a good judge of character, which made him and Brock a good pair. Brock has a tendency to trust a little too much, but now Elias is there to help guide him toward the right people. When Brock introduced you to Elias, he could immediately tell that you were a good person. He could see it in your eyes, and in your genuine appreciation that Brock would recognize and say hello to you. Elias liked that you were sprightly enough to make a joke about knowing who he was. Most of all, he liked how Brock talked about you. Elias immediately recognizes when Brock has had a conversation with you before practice or a game. He comes in with a little pep in his step, that causes some of the guys to question if he got laid the night before, but now Elias recognizes that he must have seen you on his way to work. Brock gushes about your interactions and about how cute you are when you explain the hockey things you learn.  The day that you told him Elias was your favorite player Brock was so excited to tell him. He wasn’t even mad, he just loved how light hearted willing to joke around you were. 

Brock occasionally thinks back on the times he saw you after that first night at UND. He thinks about what would have happened if your boyfriend hadn’t been waiting for you outside of your dorm. It’s not that he thinks he would have gotten lucky or that you would have cheated on your boyfriend with him, it’s just that maybe if you had had a bit more time to get to know each other you could have at least become friends.  And maybe that friendship could have grown into something more and you would have broken up with that asshole to be with him. Brock thinks about what could have been, but he also knows that hindsight is 20/20. He doesn’t consider himself a superstitious guy, but he can’t help but think that you came to Vancouver for a reason. 

When your wardrobe crisis has been averted, you’re fully dressed in skinny jeans and a cute top that’s revealing enough but doesn’t exactly come right out and say “I want to have your babies right now.” (That’s how Jade described it, anyway.) The two of you have had a round of drinks and you decide that it’s probably an appropriate time to head up to Brock’s. You didn’t want to get there too early and be the only ones there, so you made Jade wait it out in your apartment until it was at least thirty minutes after the time he had said to come. 

Brock texted you letting you know the door was unlocked, and when you get out of the elevator you can already hear music playing from behind his door. “I can already feel it. This is going to be fun!” Jade tells you excitedly as you reach out for the doorknob. You laugh thinking about how she has no idea she’s about to be drinking with a bunch of professional hockey players for the night. 

When you open the door you see some of the guys you’ve met mulling about, most of them with drinks in their hands. Brock comes up to you almost immediately. Without even thinking he wraps you in a hug, and it feels so natural even though you’ve never had any sort of physical interaction with him. Your suspicions were right, he gives the best hugs, and you wish that you could stand there in his warm arms forever, but it only lasts a second before he’s pulling away and turning his attention to your friend who looks likes she’s surprised to see Brock Boeser hugging her coworker and Elias Pettersson coming up behind him to say hello. 

“Okay, you didn’t tell me that “your friend” was Brock fucking Boeser.” She doesn’t even try to whisper it, and it’s kind of what you love about her. She just expresses herself freely, and it’s honestly so funny when she says it.  It has Brock’s head falling back as he lets out a laugh. 

Brock and Elias introduce you and Jade to the other guys who are in the apartment. There are a couple girlfriends among them and even though they all look like they just walked out of an instagram ad, they all seem genuinely nice and aren’t nearly as intimidating as you thought they would be. You don’t get too much time to mingle before Jake informs the group that the “birthday party” is ready to move to the bars, followed by packing into various Ubers. 

When you’re all at the bar, a few other guys show up, some single and definitely ready to mingle, but to your surprise some have even brought their wives. The drinks are flowing and you’re actually having fun. You notice that Jade and Jake have spent a lot of time talking, and he offers to get her a drink before they head off to the bar. You laugh, and shake your head as she turns back to give you wink before heading off with the hockey player. 

You turn your attention back to the guys standing around the table, when one of them asks you, “So, how do you two know each other? I feel like somebody said you went to UND?” It’s Brandon Sutter, you didn’t recognize him when Brock first introduced you, seeing as most of the photos you’ve seen of him include a hockey helmet covering most of his face. It’s probably the alcohol— no, it’s definitely the alcohol that has you responding to his question, “Yeah, we went to UND together, but we didn’t really hang out or anything, I think everyone just thought I was massive bitch.” You laugh, but you can see some confusion setting in on Brock’s expression. Brandon laughs too, not thinking much of what you said. 

“What do you mean?” Brock asks. He never thought of you that way back in college. He knew that guy you dated was jerk. He dimmed your light, and that wasn’t your fault. 

“I don’t know, I just figured you guys all thought I was kind of a bitch because I just hung out with my boyfriend all the time.” You don’t really know what else to say, thinking back to those days where you would follow Owen around like a lost puppy. 

“I don’t think anybody thought that, we just thought your boyfriend was dick.” He says, and before you can say anything else he adds, “No offense. He just didn’t seem like he treated you very well. That night he yelled at you in front of the dorm when he found out you went to our party left a pretty bitter taste in my mouth.” 

“Sounds like a dick, to me.” Quinn says matter-of-factly. You’re sure it’s the alcohol for him too, he’s been more talkative in the last hour than he has been in the two other times you’ve seen him. 

“Yeah, he was.” You answer back.

“So I guess you’re not still dating this guy, are you?” Brandon asks. You can feel sets of eyes all resting on you now, like you’re about to reveal a big secret. 

“No no, we broke up right before senior year of college. I dated a little in grad school, but when I found out I was moving to Canada I didn’t really bother with trying to find boyfriend.” You tell them, as they nod in response.

The rest of the night isn’t as serious. Jade and Jake tear up the dance floor, and when she nudges you to signal she’s leaving with him you tell her to wrap before she taps it, earning a laugh and wave goodbye. Brock stays by your side the entire night, neither of you wanting to join the others dancing. His arm stays perched on the back of the booth you’re in, while you listen to JT tell some elaborate story from their recent road trip. 

When Brock sees you yawn for the third time in a row he asks if you’re ready to head home. “Yeah, I’m tired. I’ll probably just head home soon.” You think he might offer to go back with you, but you don’t want to assume. Instead of yelling over the loud music he just nods and pulls out his phone. He tells the boys that you’re both heading out and they all say goodbye before Brock nudges you out of the booth. 

On the car ride home he asks you what you thought of the boys, laughing when your first response is that there are just so many of them. “It’s like trying to keep track of puppies. They’re there one second and then they’re off doing something else the next,” You laugh at yourself thinking about how many of them probably have undiagnosed ADHD, or maybe some of them are diagnosed. “But it’s cute, you guys are like a little family.” This earns one of those genuine Brock Boeser smiles. He’s proud of his little family. He loves them all, and he’s glad that you like them because he can tell they like you too. 

That night out leads to a few more texts back and forth, and eventually to full on conversations that go one for days at a time. One night he asked what you were doing and you told him you were going to watch the Battle of Alberta game. You had heard a lot about this rivalry since you embarked on your hockey education, and you figured you should see what all the hype was about. To your surprise, Brock asked if he could join you, and the two you spent the night watching hockey from your couch. 

You hadn’t watched a game this intense before, and when Matthew Tkachuk drops his gloves to fight Zack Kassian, Brock can tell you’re on edge. You knew there were fights in hockey, and you had watched a few clips on youtube, but it seemed more real watching it in realtime. You wondered what it would be like to see something like that in person. As the two players are ushered off the ice, you can’t help but wonder if Brock would ever find himself in a situation like that, and when you ask him if he ever fights during games he chuckles a bit before he answers, “No, I’m not really the fighting type. I think it’s better for everyone if I leave that up to guys like Zack and Jordie.” 

You’re not totally convinced by this, and you don’t like that the thought of Brock in a fight makes you feel so sick. He can sense your hesitation and he wants to try to ease your mind, “When fights like that break out, it’s usually because both players have agreed to it. You can see that they’re talking right before, they’re asking each other if they want to do it.” He narrates as the fight replays on your TV. “Occasionally someone will still throw a punch even if the other guy says no, but that’s not common. It’s kind of an unspoken rule that you have to stand up for your team, so most guys who are asked will fight, but I’m not usually the guy in that position. I haven’t fought once in the NHL, and I plan to keep it that way. I’d get rag-dolled by both of those guys.” He says pointing back to where the players now sit in their respective boxes.

It’s nice to know that Brock hasn’t fought anyone before, but you still worry about him getting hurt. What if he was the one who got caught by a bad hit? You can’t keep thinking about things you can’t control, so you try your best to shift your attention back to the game. 

You and Brock find yourselves in each others apartments more often after that. The two of you will make dinner and watch a game, or just watch TV for the night. Occasionally you walk down to the coffee shop on the corner together or walk over to the park with Coolie and Milo. You’ve started to become friends, and you feel like Brock is letting you get to know him more and more everyday. The conversation is easier, and the flirting is probably more noticeable than either of you thinks it is. Your positions on the couch have drifted from opposite sides of the couch to having your thighs touching while his arm sits, resting behind you across the back of the couch. He always greets you with a big hug, and lately you’ve noticed his arms lingering around your body a little bit longer than the time before

He hasn’t made a move yet, and you haven’t either. You think that maybe he just isn’t interested in getting closer, and you’re admittedly too self-conscious to try to make a move yourself. Tonight os just like any other night that the two of you spend together but you don’t notice that Brock is pretty far gone in his thoughts. That may be because you’re lost in your own as well. A few minutes later his voice brings you back to reality, “Are you okay?” You look up from where you’ve been staring down at the wine glass in your hand. You’re sitting at his kitchen counter, and he’s standing on the other side of the island looking back at you. You tell him you’re fine but you can see that he doesn’t buy it for a second. 

“You know you’re like a really good guy, right?” You ask him, after taking another sip of wine. 

He smiles back at you with a bit questioning in his eye, “I mean I’d like to think that I’m not too bad.” He says back. 

“No, Brock. You’re like really good. You help old ladies at the grocery store, and you talk about your nephew like he’s your own kid, and you’re nice to me when you really don’t have to be.”  You try to tell him just how genuinely good he is. You wish you could explain it more eloquently and you wish you could show him how good of heart he has. 

“That just sounds like normal people stuff,” he replies with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

He would say something like that, and think that normal people were just as nice as he is, and maybe they were, but the people that you’ve met throughout your life have somewhat tainted that idea for you.

“I think maybe you don’t realize how good you are.” He says back, looking you directly in the eyes. “You’re a good person, and just because I knew you back when you dated some jerk in college, doesn’t mean that it has any impact on how I feel about you now.” He’s so serious in this moment, and not at all like the usual lighthearted guy you’re used to. Somehow he knew just where your insecurities laid. He’s so genuine and honest sometimes that it hurts and the butterflies you feel in your stomach are getting harder and harder to ignore. 

The two of you don’t talk much for the rest of the night, and instead settle in a comfortable silence while Brock catches up on the episodes of Gossip Girl that Elias watched without him. Brock isn’t paying attention to what is happening on his TV. His mind is way too busy thinking of what he’s going to do next. The guys have all been pestering him to get a move on, saying that he’ll miss his window of opportunity with you, and he knows that they’re right. If he’s lucky he hasn’t missed his opportunity yet, but if not, he might just be screwed. 

He doesn’t even notice when his eyes shift away from the screen and move to rest on you. He’s taking his time, studying every feature, taking in every soft curve of your face. He loves the subtle crinkles on the sides of your eyes that deepen when you smile, and it’s even better when it happens because of something he said or did. If he could, he would make sure that smile stayed on your face for every second of the day. Your hair flows naturally without being fixed and he knows that you often let strands fall in front of your eyes when you’re too concentrated on your work or like now, when you’re invested in the show that you’re watching. 

Without a thought, and on instinct alone, Brock slowly moves his hand up toward your face and softly tucks the strand of hair behind your ear. You’re a bit caught off guard at first, but you remain still as you feel his fingers linger on the side of your neck. Eventually you let your eyes meet his and you realize just how close you are to him. The two of you stay like that for a minute, staring at each other, taking each other in. It’s too easy to get lost in Brock’s ocean-like eyes, and you swear you hear the enchanting sound of waves crashing on a beach.  

You’ve been staring at each other for what feels like too long, and you’re about to pull away when you feel Brock’s hand on the side of your face again. He’s slowly inching toward you and his eyes are still glued to yours. He’s searching for any source of panic or concern in your eyes, but he doesn’t find any. Your heart has taken over at this point and you can’t keep yourself away any longer, before you lean in and your lips finally meet his. 

Kissing Brock feels like everything good in the world. It’s feels like the first time you road a bike or the first time you tasted ice cream. It’s new and invigorating and yet you feel totally safe and secure. Before you know it, you’re deepening the kiss and Brock lets you lead him to where you’re comfortable. It just so happens that you find comfort when you reposition yourself so that your legs are straddling his and his hands are resting on your hips. It’s only when your hips shift on top of him and he can’t help but let out a deep moan that also he makes himself pull away from you. It’s then when you start to panic, and think that maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’s realizing that now. 

“I don’t want you to think that I just want this.” He says as he motions to the small space separating your bodies. “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing…” he mutters out, like he’s a bit embarrassed, and nervous that you won’t want the same thing. 

“Brock, the only reason I wouldn’t want this is if you didn’t want it. But if you do, then I do too.” You say steadily. Brock smiles and it’s one of those big toothy smiles he only shares when he’s truly happy. You can’t say anything because you’re just as elated, so instead you lean down to kiss him again. 

*

It’s only been a short six months since that night on Brock’s couch, but now you get to call his bed your own, and when you come home to your shared apartment you’re greeted by your beautiful blond boyfriend and your two dogs. Brock insists that you’re their adoptive mom now, and to make it official he bought the two of you matching hats that say “Dog Mom AF” and “Dog Dad AF.” You both wear them when you walk your fury kids together and even though you tell him you think they’re cheesy he knows that you love them.

Brock is somehow everything you need him to be. He’s strong when you’re not and he makes you laugh when you’re sad, but most of all he’s your steady companion. It’s crazy now, thinking back to when you met him. You were just a kid, barely out of high school, and you really hadn’t had the chance to think about what you actually wanted for your life. 

Then you graduated, went to graduate school, and started to find out who you were without a boy to dictate the ins and outs of your life. When you were given the opportunity to move to Vancouver you saw it as a new beginning, but you didn’t realize that it was going to be a gift to more than one part of your life. Your work life and your career goals were finally falling into place and that just left one more thing—your love life. You had stopped worrying so much about finding a boyfriend along the way as you focused on yourself, but when Brock Boeser reentered your life you couldn’t ignore it. 

Brock’s reemergence was a surprise to say the least, but now you both see that it was a gift of a second chance. When you first met, neither of you were ready for the kind of commitment you now share with each other, and you know now more than ever that those years with Owen and the years you spent alone were all worth it, because when history repeats itself you have the power to change the narrative. 

[yoonsshadow]

ETERNAL - iv

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; talk of death, ptsd/flashbacks, war zone, heavy violence, course language, panic attack

➳ word count ; 2k

➳ note ; Hello! I know that this chapter took a little longer to get out, and it is a little shorter than usual, but it’s because it takes a lot of time and research to make sure that I’m doing this story justice. That being said, I hope that you enjoy!! The journey for these eight have truly begun now, and boy, do they have a lot coming. :3

masterlist

For a while now, your life has been slipping between your fingers. Like a shadow passing through the night, every moment has melted through you, pooling at your feet until you’re slipping, falling, thrown to the ground. From the moment the first bullet was delivered through your skull, you have lost grip of your control; of the things you hold dearest to you.

Sitting here, surrounded by these seven men, that empty cavern in your chest aches just a little less. It hasn’t started to fill up yet⎯⎯might not for a very long while⎯⎯but the silence no longer echoes. 

“It still feels weird to think about,” you say, soft voice carrying through the room with ease. They are all listening so carefully that you cannot meet any of their eyes. “That I died, I mean. I’ve had time to rationalise it, but my whole life has been spent thinking one way⎯⎯believing in life and death, mortality, the fragility and preciousness of living⎯⎯but now I’ve been killed multiple times, died naturally a handful more, and so it feels as though the whole world has been skewed and I’m yet to find my balance.”

Your fingers fiddle together in your lap, eyes downcast to the empty soup bowl on the coffee table.

“The story of how I died the first time is kind of a long one. I can’t tell you about the final moments without explaining everything that led up to it, but there are a few years of history to go through. So, if you want me to condense it…”

“We have all the time in the world,” Namjoon assures, and it could be a joke, a satirical remark regarding your current situations, but instead he speaks with the utmost care, as if he is afraid of any wrong word, any misstep. He is telling you that they are patient, that they don’t mind waiting, that they will listen to every word you say. For you.

And it warms that hole in your chest enough for you to meet his eyes⎯⎯all of their eyes⎯⎯and offer a small smile. Then you nod to yourself. This is a story you need to tell, no matter how painful the memories are.

“Two-and-a-half years ago,” you begin, “the Special Warfare Command uncovered the elaborate smuggling operation of North Korean forces. Untraceable men⎯⎯assumed Black-Ops⎯⎯would enter South Korea through other countries using fake documentation. It’s unclear how long they stayed, months or years, but they would eventually kidnap vulnerable children and smuggle them to North Korea via Mongolia and China.

“Unfortunately, it took years to trace the movements of these men to a point where we knew what they were doing and how they were doing it. The SWC eventually concluded that North Korea were kidnapping and training future sleeper agents and spies, and avoiding suspicion by hiding in the Gobi Desert. They had an entire base of operations on a grey-zone of the border between Mongolia and China, and managed to leave no traces of their movements.”

You need to take a deep gulp of air at this point. Up until now, you have merely stated facts; regurgitated information as you have been told. However, you know that everything from this point on will become personal. You try to think back on your years of conditioning in the army.

“It was at this point that my team was requested for the operation. The 707th Special Mission Group has hundreds of personnel, all within two assault companies, one support company, and one all-female company. There are many missions in which female operators are a better fit, this one included, and out of the female company, my team was chosen.

“When I was promoted to Captain, and at such a young age... All I felt was excitement. Excitement for such an honour, for the experiences ahead, for being able to lead my very own team. The women on my team worked so well, too. We had many successful missions, small and big, and we were ready for this operation. We were ready for Operation Fawn.”

The air in your lungs stutters as you exhale, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’ve avoided thoughts of the thirteen women who had become your friends, your family, but now you are submerged in the memories. Both joyous and tragic.

A few of the men around you look as if they want to move forward, to comfort you, but they also know that it isn’t their place to do so. Not yet.

“The plan was relatively straight-forward. We had found the location of the children, and so it was our job to silently infiltrate the site. Remove all hostiles, retrieve the missing kids, bring them back safely. It wasn’t unlike other missions we had completed before, so we were confident that we could execute it without fail.”

Pulse pumping loudly in your ears, heart beating violently in your chest, you begin to see flashes of that night, playing before your eyes without your permission.

“Get down!” A bullet whirs through the air where your lieutenant’s head had just been, close enough to be able to hear it cutting through the air. “Shit,” you mumble to yourself, peeking around the corner of the collapsed wall for the rest of your team, “how the fuck are there so many of them?”

“Captain.” A voice cuts through the chaos, the intercom in your ear crackling to life. “They’re still pouring in - West entrance - all armed. There shouldn’t be this many men.”

You land shots on three oncoming men, their bodies falling to the ground, but they are quickly replaced by more on their way. You have to do something; you can’t allow your team⎯⎯or the children⎯⎯to die tonight. 

While your lieutenant watches your back, you fiddle with the dial of your radio, changing to a different channel.

“Command, this is Dragon, do you copy?”

No response comes through, and you’re forced to move from the wall with your gun poised, firing shots at any unfamiliar figure you see.

“Command, this is Dragon, do you copy?!”

A grenade explodes a short distance away, shaking the ground and sending you stumbling.

“Command, this is Dragon, Operation Fawn has been compromised! I repeat, Operation Fawn has been compromised! Delta Team needs immediate backup, over a hundred hostiles, and counting!”

Either the commotion around you drowns out the voice in your ear, or you’ve yet again received no response. You are starting to get desperate.

“Jesus fuc⎯ we’re completely overwhelmed, Command! My team can only hold out for a little while longer, but these fuckers just keep pouring in! Something is wrong, there shouldn’t be this many of them, we can’t fucking⎯”

Somebody tackles you to the ground. Gunshots, shouts, dirt in your face, a hand on your throat. The man on top of you is heavy, but you’re able to roll him off of you and shoot him between the eyes.

The blood splatters across your goggles.

It’s all too much. There are men everywhere, and you can’t see any of your team members throughout the chaos. You can’t get through to your command centre. Everything that was supposed to be easy tonight has gone wrong. Something heavy, and dark⎯⎯something that feels a lot like doom and panic and we’re going to die⎯⎯lurks in your guts, but you can’t think about that right now. You have to find your girls, have to save these children, have to stay alive⎯

Your fist aches nearly as much as your thudding chest.

Images of death and violence fade away as you blink violently, flexing your fingers individually and then all together, mind still scrambled, still alert.

There are hands on your shoulders, solid and heavy and grounding, and a pair of soft eyes searching for yours. All eyes in the room are on you, but all you can focus on is Yoongi, who looks as if he knows, as if he understands.

And there is a fist-sized patch of red on his left cheekbone. God, your fist, his face, what have you done, oh god I’ve hurt him⎯

Cool air blows on the silent tears that stream down your cheeks, your bones trembling with adrenaline and fear and sorrow. He’s saying something, lips moving slowly, but the clouds in your head are muffling everything. His hands move to hold yours.

You recognise the movement of his lips as the words breathe, it’s okay, and you try your best to obey, but your throat has closed up, tight like the grip of that enemy soldier who had held you to the ground⎯

Yoongi brings one of your hands to his chest, pressing your fingers into him, and you faintly feel the thudding of a heartbeat against your palm. Then, he breathes in, slow and deep, and you follow.

In and out, one by one, Yoongi slowly guides you to breathe steadily once again, your chest growing less tight with each shaky gasp. The tears have stopped flowing, and your limbs have calmed into only a slight tremor, and the darkness in his eyes are captivating. You want to lean forward, let them swallow you whole, but you instead squeeze his hands in silent thanks.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers, and you realise that your head has calmed down enough to take in your surroundings. All seven are watching you with a careful and guarded eye, but you find no pity. It brings you a sliver of relief.

Rather than replying, you merely nod your head and allow Yoongi to pull you up onto shaky legs. Exhaustion is already weighing you down, and all you want to do is escape your own mind.

They have been once before. You, asleep in the spare room, and them, huddled together on the lounges. They are worried about you, but they are also much more; the fear in your voice, the heartache in each memory, was familiar to them. As they watched you relive your trauma, they relived theirs as well.

“I’m sorry, I-” Namjoon’s words stutter out, unsure, unplanned, unlike the way he usually speaks. “This is my fault. I should’ve known- it was too early to- and maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt...”

“Hey, no.” Seokjin’s hands on Namjoon’s shoulders are as firm as his words, kind eyes seeking regretful ones. “Don’t blame yourself; this is nobody’s fault. She made her decision to tell us. Don’t take that away from her. And we all know that she couldn’t help that reflex. Yoongi’s been hit harder.”

“We didn’t even hear the rest of the story,” Jimin pouts, nibbling his lower lip between his teeth. “Like, how she died, how her team died, what happened to the mission.”

“We’ll have to be patient,” Yoongi sighs. His cheek is already blue and purple, and will probably be fully healed in an hour. “We know the fundamentals, anyway. A mission that was supposed to be clear-cut somehow got turned on its head. It cost her team’s lives.”

“How does something like that even happen?” Next to Jimin, Taehyung’s pout is not quite as full, but still full of the emotions he is trying to keep in. “It isn’t just her team that got hit, but the entire Special Warfare Command. This was a big operation, guys, so something like this should’ve been prevented.”

“Do you think…” Jeongguk is clutching a pillow close to his chest. “Do you think somebody from the inside betrayed them?” Six faces turn to look at him, shocked at the implication, shocked that it makes sense. “I mean, the information about the operation would have been top secret. North Korea has resources, sure, but they shouldn’t have known the when, where, and how of the mission. Somebody had to have turned.”

“Who would’ve done it?” Jimin’s question is not asking for an answer. He feels sick at the thought.

It is at this moment that Hoseok chooses to emerge from his deep silence. When he speaks, his voice is regretful. Knowing. “I think she knows exactly who did it.”

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tags: @leafyturtle​, @loveyoongles, @paint-music-with-me, @barbikatherine, @itsmorgo1604, @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @veronawrites, @applepie1000, @yoonchrisgullwrites, @ally22042000, @ireallylikefoodandyoutube, @blglmgk01​, @basicgukk, @softescapism​, @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered​, @m1nt-3lla​, @hunnayesblog, @rosycheekb​, @hemmofluke​, @the-bisaster​ 

[workingforitallthetime]

svech: a very serious and responsible primer

ok @totally-necessary​ and @needsmore​, i am gonna write you an andrei svechnikov primer and i am going to do my best to produce a work of responsible well-sourced expository prose instead of an embarrassing thirsty disaster like the rest of my andrei svechnikov blogging.

here is my introductory paragraph:

wait, no, give me another shot. i swear i can actually do this. here is my introductory paragraph:

HOW CAN I NOT LOVE THIS GOOD-NATURED FEARLESS JOYFUL SHOULDER-FRECKLED SEX KITTEN????? HOW CAN I DO ANYTHING BUT CRY ALL THE TIME?????

.......ok. sorry. let me try it again. i’ll do it right this time, i promise. here is my introductory paragraph:

once upon a time in siberia, two-year-old andrei svechnikov put on skates for the first time and cried because he couldn’t follow his big brother evgeny onto the ice. eventually evgeny’s coach let andrei join the team’s workouts, and then coach started giving the older players a hard time when andrei would beat them.

the backstory of the svech bros sounds a lot like every other hockey kid who didn’t grow up privileged: parents who worked multiple jobs and sacrificed and moved cities to make sure the kids got hockey opportunities. in interviews, the svechnikov brothers have referenced not knowing where food or clothes were going to come from, and they emphasize how close it made them. evgeny says:

Having a brother that we eat from one plate--sleep in one bed sometimes--we went through everything. It's just one person by your side always. It's like going hunting alone or with somebody.

they wear the same number. they talk every day. as soon as the season paused in march, evgeny drove to north carolina. lately, they’re hanging out in michigan. basically, if hockey is not being played, they are together. basically, if you are going to write a primer about andrei, the most important thing is evgeny.

(my theory is that evgeny is at least part of the reason andrei does not like it when dougie and foegs joke about him being their kid brother. it’s the only joke i’ve ever seen svech refuse to roll with.)

evgeny got drafted by the red wings in 2015 (round 1, 19th overall). he started out with the AHL affiliate in grand rapids, and in 2016 mama svech packed up andrei and moved from russia to michigan. andrei played a season for the muskegon lumberjacks in the USHL. he led the team in scoring and was named USHL rookie of the year. the next season he was the first selection in the CHL import draft, and played for the barrie colts.

ok, so while we’re knocking out the backstory, i want to note that svech’s full name is Andrei Igorevich Svechnikov. don’t tell me that’s not sexy.

furthermore, the very spelling of andrei is sexy. i had a russian-speaking colleague once who had a son named andrei and she would say his name with a little lift at the end. not like the i added another syllable, just like a little caress. i hear it that way when i type it. it makes me happy to type that i at the end. andrei. andrei.

oh sorry, did i veer off topic?

the carolina hurricanes selected andrei second overall in the 2018 draft. he looked just as dumb as everybody always does in their draft night jersey photos, but here’s his draft day suit:

oh wait, can’t pass up the opportunity for a combine photo

did i say COMBINE? i meant JAWLINE

wait one more photo from the combine, just because he looks especially dead poets society in this one:

upon moving to raleigh, andrei emphatically wanted to live alone, which seems unusual for an 18-year-old entering the NHL and is therefore fertile ground for all sorts of headcanons. he keeps his floors very clean and gets mad when his buddies won’t take their shoes off. i am not making this up. he lives in the same apartment complex as dougie hamilton, warren foegele, joel edmundson (rip), and teuvo teravainen. andrei does not cook and he’s constantly calling them to see who wants to go out to eat.

in that last video i linked you can see foegs stumble and jump off his scooter just before he hits the gate to their parking garage. then the gate rises like magic and svech glides straight through. this is an unsubtle metaphor for andrei svechnikov’s entire athletic existence.

svech purportedly does not play video games, which is wild to me. instead, he practices magic tricks. again, i am not making this up.

wait i’m sorry it’s been at least ten minutes since i looked at a picture of andrei svechnikov holding a bunch of kittens

ok where was i.

svech had a pretty solid rookie season in 2018-19, but you can look up the numbers elsewhere if you want them. he was the first player born this century to score in the NHL but we don’t like to think about his 2000 birthdate. he played on a line with jordan martinook for a lot of that first season, and you can read more about that romantic nonsense in the ship primer i’ll be writing next. more recently the canes have settled into a top line of svech, sebastian aho, and teuvo teravainen, which is a pretty deadly combo.

one incident of note from svech’s rookie season is that he got knocked the fuck out by alex ovechkin. we’ll be talking more about that in the ship primer too, but if you want the video it’s here.

here, have a little celly:

svech’s most touted accomplishment is scoring the NHL’s first-ever Michigan-style lacrosse goal. this article has a very good description of how it worked. the postgame interview from that game is so endearing it makes me want to claw my face off. he’s talking so fast (for him) and he keeps repeating that his brother taught it to him, just absolutely determined to make sure everyone knows this milestone belongs to evgeny too.

also, this season, he scored the first playoff hat trick in franchise history.

the thing about andrei svechnikov is that nobody has a bad word to say about him. everybody thinks he’s an amazing player (”skilled and tenacious yet loose and creative”) and everybody compliments his work ethic (shooting pucks for hours after practice or a game) and journalists call him a “transcendent star.” everybody says he’s a great person. everybody calls him special. jordan martinook says svech never has a bad word to say about anyone.

ok it’s kitten time again!

more svech facts of note:

drives a black mercedes, poorly. “he wants to win on the road, too,” says foegs.

his voice gets very soft when he is uncertain about something but he’s loud when he wins a card game. (”GOOD NIGHT, BROTHER! SEE YOU NEXT GAME!”)

loves french toast for breakfast.

guilty pleasure is milkshakes.

if he was an animal, he’d be a bear (”like a russian bear.”)

does monster summer workouts with ivan provorov

look how fucking cute he is

the invaluable social media team over at hurricanes hq understands the svech content the world needs. i’m gonna tackle some more of this in the ship primer, but here are the best ones:

who’s your daddy? this video features svech confusedly asking “daddy?”, which is literally everything i ever want in fic or in life. once he finally understands he’s expected to choose between two teammates, he chooses the one who’s his buddy. and then after he’s catcalled from offscreen, he slouches down in his chair and changes his answer. “both,” he mutters, looking unbearably smug. “both.”

cookie face. it takes marty a very entertaining 49 seconds to eat the cookie. then svech hacks the game and wins in 7 second flat. “he’s good at everything,” marty marvels from offscreen.

this is a terrible concept for a video but it does feature svech and dougie doing the famous scene from stepbrothers, and svech giving a sweeping bow. i will forgive him for wearing a duke hat but only because he wears a tarheels hat in the three amigos video above.

has it been too long since a kitten photo? it’s definitely been too long since a kitten photo.

in conclusion, andrei svechnikov is a massive life-ruining problem and also he is perfect. i love him.

[elphiej]

Be My Light: Prologue

*Pairing: Yoonig X Reader, possible OT7 X Reader (Undecided)

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: N/A (Yet)

*Summary: In the city of Central, a dark shadow rises as an evil from their past threatens to destroy the members of Bangtan and seize control of the city. While struggling against the rival gangs, as well as their own inner turmoils, they find their journey intertwined with a girl who’s past is a mystery, even to herself. She is lost and broken, but finds she has little choice but to trust the gang members as she becomes a target of the rival gang and drug lords. As they protect their new charge, the boys start to feel things they haven’t thought they would ever have. Can she help them fight against the shadows of their past? Can she melt the cold persona of Bangtan’s second in command? Can they be a beacon for her in own darkness? And can they help her unlock the secrets of her past and help her find her inner strength? 

(I’m terrible at writing summaries. Please let me know what you think)

              Be My Light 

               The last few stars in twilight sky illuminates the chrome skyline, barely a soul was awake, as a black SUV pulled up to the curb by a half-constructed office space in the lower part of the City. Hardly anyone who lived in the massive metropolis was about at such an early hour. Especially in this lower section of Central City, where it was mostly cheap apartments, shops, and construction. Central City- barely anyone remembered its true name after the ‘First’ Gangs bestowed the code name upon the citizens. The driver gazed across the empty street to the massive skeleton of a building that loomed in the fading twilight, not liking the ominous feeling that radiated from it like heat from the car’s air conditioner.  Nothing about this seemed right and his anxiety settled deep within his gut. This was not the usual drop zone and too far from their own territory. The construction cranes and bulldozers that were deadly still, like a warning, loomed about the shell of the shopping center the civil government thought would bring some life and safety back to this part of the city. The massive, five story building had too many unknown factors for him; there were too many places to hide, too many shadows, too many things to use against them should things go south. He sank lower into the driver seat, anxiety settling like a stone in his gut. It didn’t matter how many of these drops he had done or how many times he had seen things go one way or the other, he still got nervous. He turned his attention to the other member in the car, trying to distract himself.

               In the passenger seat, seemingly asleep and unbothered, was a young man who was older in years but shorter in stature than the driver.  He had pale skin and platinum blonde hair, dressed up in a simple black shirt and ripped black jeans, with a blood red, long hooded coat, that gave him a vampiric or bringer of death vibe. Fitting for what may happen, the driver thought. His arms were crossed against his chest and his head was leaning against the window. The eldest had been in the same position since they had left their garage a few hours ago. He seemed almost calm, which the younger allotted to his hyung’s experience with the rival gang.  However, quite the opposite was the presence in the back, who had stretched himself to lounge on the back seat. There laid an angelic youth with golden, wavy hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was yin and yang personified to those who had seen him in action. The angel had his phone above his face, tapping furiously in a game, the light illuminating his innocent features and smile. The driver knew that once they entered the building that the innocent look would change to something scary once they entered the building. If looks could kill, the driver trailed off. Having both his hyungs with him and both seeming calm should help put him at ease. It was a good team they had in the car and had done much harder things before. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that loomed over him.

               “Hyung,” he said, softy, looking at the sleeping passenger. The other seemed dead to the world, so he repeated himself louder. Only when the other made a noise of acknowledgment did he continue. “Are we sure this is the place?”

               The passenger opened his dark eyes and looked across the driver to the construction site. His eyes moved to out his own window before nodding. The angel stopped playing his game and sat up longer enough to confirm with this companion. It wasn’t quite the reassurance the younger man was hoping to get.

               “Hyung, I don’t like this” he said. “This doesn’t feel right. We’re doing a drop, right? This isn’t hallowed ground. It’s a half-constructed building that none of us have any knowledge of. This can’t be the site.”

               “This is where RM said to go. This is the place the asshole wanted to do this. Said they feel safer here,” the passenger said, his voice low and rough from being woken.

               The angel leaned forward between the two of them, thumbs still moving quickly across the screen. “Those guys are just scared,” he said, his voice as light and airy as his appearance. “They keep losing men because they don’t train them right. Once their boss disappeared, they can barely keep their heads above water. They think being on their turf will scare us or something. Think we’re more likely to agree in order not to cause any trouble. That we’ll be too cautious to draw any blood.” His eyes shifted to the driver, and the devil within shone through for a moment. “Not like that would stop us, right Jungkook-ah?”

               “Ease the blood-shed, Jiminie,” the eldest warned. “This is just an exchange. We get in and get out. They promised a standoff, no weapons. So we should oblige the goons.”

               “Then why do we have a weapon stash with us” Jungkook asked with a playful, knowing smile.

               “Because we’re not stupid. Ji may have been bound by the Accords, but he was still a deceitful fuck, played by whatever rule got him to where he was. And he taught his dongsaengs to do the same. Now that he’s disappeared, they’ve gotten more chaotic. Look what happened to Hoseok last month when they jumped him in the middle of the street. They’re getting messy. We’re lucky Moonbyul and some X-ers were in the area, else Hobi and some civilians would have been worse off.”

               “Come on, Hyung. Are you tell us that if Choi’s in there, you’re not gonna give him a couple more bruises to match the old ones? I’m sure he’d like a matching set,” Jimin said leaning back in his seat.

               “We’re not gonna stoop to their level. We’ll show them how to act. But,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a switch blade, and smiled, “if he is there and wants to start shit with me, I’ll be happy to give him a scar like he tried to give Hobi.”

               Jimin and Jungkook looked at each other, grinning. Within their own group, they were all remarkably close, basically family. They all looked out for and took care of each other. But their Yoongi-hyung was even more protective of his younger brothers, always secretly doing things for them when they least expected it. On the outside, he was hard, quiet, and calculating. But on the side, they knew he was softy (though they dare not say that in his presence).

               Yoongi slipped the knife back into his red trench coat’s inner pocket and checked his watch. It was not quite time to meet with the Royals, though they knew them better as Goons or Jackasses. But it was time to check in with their secret surveillance. He pulled out his phone and made a call. Ringing filled the silent car through the speakers. It did not take long before the ring stopped, and deep voice replaced it.

               “Hyung,” it whined, “you finally call! I’ve been freezing out here since sundown, watching this damn building. I’m cold and lonely!”

               “Lonely my ass, Taehyung. You’ve been texting Jimin since you got there and playing that damn mobile game since two. You do realize you’re supposed to be look out. Or do I need to find someone who actually care about our safety to replace you next time?”

               “What? Hyung, no! I’ve been doing my job, I swear,” Taehyung said frantically, his voice wavering as if he was about to cry. “I can multi-task, I swear. We’ve only played a couple rounds, I promise. Please, Hyung, have mercy on me! You know I don’t like being alone. Please don’…,” his voice trailed off.

               Jimin grabbed the phone from Yoongi. “Taehyung-ah, it’s okay. Yoongi-Hyung is just kidding. He’s smiling, really.”

               “If that’s what you want to call it,” Jungkook laughed.

               As quickly as Taehyung’s sobbing began, it just as quickly turned into a deep laugh. “I know. I can hear it in his voice. Not nice, Yoongi-shi. We really need to work on your people skills”

               “Anyways, what is happening out there?” Yoongi loomed forward to look out the windshield to the building across from the meeting place. A top the highest building, he could just make out the body sitting there. Had he not known what he was looking for, or had an idea where Taehyung had positioned himself, he would have missed him. The lookout had positioned himself across from the back of the building where the Goons would be entering at, in order to stay a few steps ahead of them.

               “Barely anything has happened since I got here. Once the sun went down, all the people cleared the street. It’s been quite here. The civilians are probably worried about the Goons’ new recruits causing trouble at night. Only three cars have come down this way. And you’re number three. There’s some more construction to the west, some little family shops and alleys to the east, and a couple apartment housings to the north of here. So the civilians are safe from the cross-fire, if there is any.” He stopped talking for a sec, only to let out a loud, triumphant ‘yah’. “Got you, Jimin. That’s for cheating last round. I win! You owe me some honey rice cakes.” Said cheater threw his phone on the back seat with a growl, which only made Taehyung laugh more.

               Yoongi rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. “Why did I not ask Jin-Hyung to come with me?”

               “Because Jin-Hyung is taking care of Hoseok-Hyung. And RM-Hyung is trading that ‘equipment’ we picked up with Solar’s crew for some more fire power,” Jimin explained, leaning forward to rest his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Besides, we’re the dream team right here. Taehyung’s a great lookout with his attention to details. And he’s a strong back up in a brawl. Jungkook’s the most daring getaway driver, next to Jin-Hyung, and is the muscle. And you and I are the best shots. How can you top that?”

               Yoongi shrugged Jimin off him. “Fine, but stay focused. No more games, you two.”

               Taehyung chuckled deeply. “Ok, Grandpa. I promise.”

               From his place atop the building, Taehyung smiled down at the SUV. After so many hours of nothing happening, their reunion had woken him up and gave him some much-needed energy. He listened as Jungkook started asking Jimin about the game, and Yoongi grumbling every now and again. He stretched his long arms up, and checked on the screens in front of him. The time of the drop was approaching but there had been no activity in the building across from him. He and Jimin had snuck into the building a few days earlier and placed some hidden cameras all over. He tapped a few buttons on his screen, switching from floor to floor, his eyes taking in every detail. No change. The building was just as empty as it was when he first got there. He checked the time in the lower corner of his screen; it was only a few minutes before the appointed time and still no sign of the enemy. If there was one thing Taehyung liked about the absent head of the rival gang was his attention to time and arriving to an appointment early. Time was everything and, without him, they lacked it

               You’ve got shit timing, a voice echoed from the farthest reaches of his mind.

               His fingers froze on the keyboard. Why was that making an appearance? That deep, sinister voice had been lurking on the edge of his attention ever since Hoseok was jumped. His hyung didn’t remember most of that attack, let alone who was the spearhead. He recalled being jumped from behind by some lower level recruits that he may have recognized, and that he dealt with a few of them before they pinned him on his knees. And he remembered a pair of expensive, designer shoes coming into his line of vison before a cane cracked him in the face. Moonbyul, a member of the Mama gang from the Northern side of town, had been one of the first to come to his aid. Taehyung had only met her once but remember that she was a strong and intimidating, and a fierce fighter. Joohyun and Shownu of the X-ers he knew better from all their gangs’ interactions. They had been looking for a good restaurant when they heard the commotion and sprang to help. Joohyun swore that he saw the elusive Choi there in fray, yet neither Moonbyul or Shownu were sure if he was there or not. Choi had always been like a shadow, appearing and disappearing when he pleased. No one had heard of his actions for almost four years. And, in the two-year absence his leader, Ji, no one was quite sure who had taken over as temporary leader. There had been clues that Choi could have returned to take over; he was the oldest member of the generals, had been a right hand man for Ji, and was more secretive of his doings then some of the other Generals would have been. The idea of Choi being back in Central made Taehyung anxious; old, painful memories had started to resurface. Things that Taehyung had worked through and had lapsed into a comfortable mindset when they thought that bastard had disappeared. Just the thought that Choi may be back made him wonder if that meant Ji was back too and what that may do to his members.

               Taehyung didn’t have much time to dwell as movement from one of the cameras caught his attention. He clicked into the camera that was stationed on the opposite side of the construction site, where the back-loading docks were to see three black Royces with their lights off came to a stop. Here we go, he thought as pulled a folded bandana from his jacket and slipped it up under his dyed gray locks.  Zooming in, he saw a few Royal members that he recognized from past fights. Some were boxers and a few MMA fighters, but they were slower than his trim and light members. The rest looked new, young and jittery. Maybe just a training run, Taehyung thought. It wouldn’t be out of place. RM and Jin had taken him on drops and exchanges when he first joined.  Altogether, there were twelve Royal members. That alone made Taehyung nervous; there were too many factors playing out in his head. He knew that between himself, Jimin, Jungkook, and Yoongi, they could deal with them if they decided to do something stupid. One member Taehyung, Chen, knew well enough from their encounters was a high-ranking member and was normally the leader of the squad. He was slightly decent about following the Accords. Maybe this will go fine.

               That was, until he watched Chen go to the third Rolls Royce and opened the back door.

               The first thing that came into view was a pair of expensive, silver dress shoes. Then a matching ornate cane. Taehyung could feel his breath catching in his throat. Out of the car, dressed in a light colored three-piece suit with a white fur coat draped over his broad shoulders, stepped Choi. His gloved hand ran through his quaffed frosted hair as he gave instructions to his minions. The little smirk that appeared through the computer screen was all it took for Taehyung’s mind to instantly transport him back to the worst night of his entire life. He could feel those gloved hands on his neck and shoulder while Choi’s companion laughed like a crazed child behind him. That sadistic smile was one of the last things he remembered seeing before he was shoved deep into the freezing darkness.

               Here’s your punishment for your disrespect. Do me a favor and don’t die too quick. My brother wants his turn to play with you. Now, deep breath, Choi breathed in his ear.  

                    His heart started to beat harder and panic began to grip hold of him. He didn’t want to think about it, not now. He thought he was past all this. But, with the chances of seeing the general who tormented him, only made his breath check in his throat. Get a grip, he mentally screamed, get over it. Don’t let him win! But all he could focus of was the wet, chill creeping up from his toes, his lungs restricting, the muted sounds in his ears…He gripped his phone like a life-line, running through what his team taught him when he got like this. Taehyung closed his eyes and tried to count. He tried to focus on a happier memory, but the onslaught of panic surged onward. He tried to force himself to take an unsteady breath, shaking his dyed gray locks from his sweaty face. Focus, breath. He kept repeating it. But his lungs felt like they were in a vice, like they were filling up with ice cold fear. There were hands gripping him, dragging him deeper into the dark memory. And he felt like he was swimming against a current. It wasn’t until Jimin’s voice seemed to cut through the rushing in his ears that he felt he had a lifeline. Where his silence may not have seemed like anything to the others at that moment, Jimin seemed to sense the change, even without seeing him. Taehyung clung to his best friend’s words and took a shaky breath into his burning lungs. Then, another and another. Just like he did when this same nightmare plagued him for an entire year. And as quickly as it came on, the dark hands pulled back into the deepest part of his memory.

               Jimin called out to him again as his eyes opened, and Jungkook’s followed asking if everything was alright. Tae let his eyes fall on his computer screen to ground himself back into his reality. Everything is fine. Focus on the screens. There were only two men by the cars now, blocking the loading dock from any surprise attack. Where did the others go? Tapping quickly on the keyboard, he cycled through the different cameras. The ground floor was only occupied by the large support beams and boxes of different building material. The second floor had empty shells for stores. The third and fourth were much of the same, with only scaffolding, tools, and more large boxes. The fifth floor was were the designer had wanted to put an event hall based on the layout; wide open with decorative columns lining the middle of the space, windows that looked out to the distant skyline of the city, and a marble floor that hadn’t been finished yet. Like the other floors, metal scaffolding and work tables littered the area, and unpacked crates and such were dispersed. At the edge of the camera Taehyung had placed by the entrance, he finally spotted Choi and the rest of the goons. As his eyes darted about the screen, taking in every detail he needed, he sat a bit straighter and shifted from the playful Tae into a different being. Now in the position of lookout and back gunner was V.

               “Tae, you ok up there? You’re too quiet. I think Jimin’s about to scale this building to check on you,” Yoongi’s voice rang through the phone, behind it was Jimin’s quite voice asking the same.

               “Suga-Hyung,” V voice was much deeper and serious than Taehyung’s, signaling to the car that something was up, “They’re here. Three cars at the back-loading dock. Two men stayed with the cars. There are thirteen in total.”

               “That’s more than normal for a drop like this,” Jungkook wearily said.

               “Hyung,” V continued, “Choi is with them.”

               From his place in the car, Yoongi nodded silently. That was all the info he needed to know that this wouldn’t be a normal interaction like they had hoped. The confirmation that Choi was, indeed, back in the picture meant that the game was about to be much more dangerous. He looked across to his younger friends, knowing from the look on their faces that they understood that too.

               “Where are they V-shi?”

               “Choi and the others are in the fifth-floor hall like they said. Their situated in the back of the room. Take the elevator on the ground floor and it’ll open into the space. There’s enough room to keep some distance between you guys and there are enough obstacles, in case. I can’t see from this angle if they’re true to their word about the weapons but there’s a couple boxes I didn’t see when I set up.”

               “Good job, V,” Yoongi said. “Once we get into the building, make your way down and to the back. Pay the two lookouts a visit. Then, keep low in case we need you. I’ll have the in-ear if something comes up. Jimin, you’ll stay with me. Jungkook, you stay a little behind with the package. Everyone just follow my lead and stay alert. Let them think we’re as dumb as Choi likes to think of us. Got it?”

               Yoongi had slid into Suga, the mafia persona he had adapted over the years. Suga was calculative, alert, intimidating to those who didn’t know him, and able to set the world on fire with a turn of phrase. He straightened his red coat and flipped up the hood to block against the cold as he pushed open the door. Jungkook let out a breath, nervous energy still rampant but his drive to succeed against all odd weighted it out. He mumbled a ‘goodbye’ to Taehyung and turned off the car, shoving the keys into his black hoodie’s pocket. He let his gaze wander in the rearview to see Jimin had already slid his rose-tinted glasses he had grabbed before leaving their hideout onto his face and ran his finger through his blonde hair. A bit of his bangs slipped back across one of his eyes. And with that simple gesture, the angelic, mischievous persona had been replaced with a devilish powerhouse one who wouldn’t stop until the job is done. The differences between normal Jimin to gang member Jimin would make anyone wonder if two different people. It still creeped Jungkook out when his hyung’s happy mask would slip when they got into a disagreement. Said hyung noticed Jungkook staring, and those dark eyes melted a bit when the younger’s doe eyes quickly looked away. He smiled a bit and reached for the black bucket hat that Jungkook had thrown into the back seat when they left.

               “Don’t look so worried. We’ll be good,” Jimin said, placing the hat over Jungkook’s long dark hair. The maknae wasn’t entirely sure if Jimin meant that the meeting would well or if that they’d behave. Honestly, he didn’t think it’d matter.

               Suga leaned his head back into the car. “Jimin, why don’t you let our guest out? I’m sure they didn’t appreciate all those pot holes JK decided to hit.”

               JK gave a small smirk as the wickedly, mischievous glint reappeared in Jimin’s eyes. He slid from the back seat and made his way around to the truck. He gave the metal a good kick before opening the hatch, the person inside letting out a surprised yelp as they were yanked out and down to the cold asphalt. The rat was blindfolded, gagged, and bound. He had tried to infiltrate one of their warehouses. He was young and inexperienced, trying to blend in with the new batch of recruits. And he almost went unnoticed, had they not had the best surveillance known to any gang in all of Central. Jimin almost felt sorry for him. Lord knows, he was treated better with them than his own group. But that wasn’t enough for Jimin not to scare him a bit more with a couple good shoves and breathy threats as they made their way through the crisp early morning air towards the uncertainty that lay inside the building.

               With each step towards the towering building, no longer were the three the friendly band of brothers who had spent the two hours driving around, laughing, talking, and singing obnoxiously loud to the radio. With each step, they were the most feared gang to walk the streets of Central since the Royals were in their prime. They were the most powerful group to rise from nothing to the greatest empires in the history of Central.

               They were Bangtan.

[444piscesprincess]

childhood friends to lovers/growing up together sterek fic reclist

uhh this kinda got a lil angsty but i recommend you pick a growing up together fic and listen to this song i promise you will not regret it 

https://open.spotify.com/track/5Dz8nrwQlPLE68WaTEIqY5?si=aogjMc1aToSALmAlfQOR7A 

anyways as usual check tags please!!

(click on the title for the fic)

you know you're on my mind

bibliosexual

Summary:

If there’s one thing Derek’s learned in life, it’s that crushing on someone who lives on an entire other fucking continent is probably a bad idea.

(hs!au + texting!au + childhood friends to lovers the ULTIMATE fluff fic)

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)   (series)

yodasyoyo

Summary:

Stiles is six years old when he first hears Derek's voice in his head.

Or what happens if you have a soulmate bond, in a universe where soulmate bonds don't exist?

Up Down Lock Unlock

isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Summary:

“Why are you going into grandma Ito’s apartment?” he asked.

Derek turned to him, key sliding into the lock. “What do you mean?” He tried to turn it, but the key wasn’t budging. Maybe the lock was sticking again, it’d been doing that the past few days.

Stiles was staring at him like Derek was stupid.

Derek did not appreciate sass from a ten year old.

“That’s grandma Ito’s place.”

“No,” Derek said calmly, pulling the key out and then shoving it back in, wiggling it a little when it continued to refuse to unlock the door. “This is my place.”

“I think you’re on the wrong floor then, because that apartment belongs to grandma Ito.”

(time travel counts as childhood friends right?)

the difference between going back and going home

thepsychicclam

Summary:

Stiles and Derek were inseparable growing up, but then college, jobs, and life happened. When Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills a decade later, he doesn't expect to reconnect with Derek, and he sure doesn't expect to fall in love with him.

It's Such a Gas When You Bring Up the Past

orphan_account

Summary:

Stiles finds a box of old photo albums that dredge up the sweet, the funny, the adorable, and the mildly heartwrenching parts of his and Derek's past.

(mainly a friends fic but its too cute to not include)

It's Always Been You

charlesdk

Summary:

Stiles' love life was practically non-existing, always had been. He was always terrible at picking up clues when people hit on him (it had happened, Erica had been witness to it and had been the one to let him know it was happening in the first place) because he never expected anyone to do so.

He wasn't the most desirable guy around, he knew that. He was loud, extremely nerdy, never knew when to stop talking, not exactly much of a looker if you asked him, the list was endless.

Point was, he never did know when someone was flirting with him. Which was probably how he ended up in the fight that would change his life for the better.

Lead You Home Again

GotTheSilver

Summary:

The first time Derek meets Stiles, the kid’s brown eyes are wide, and he’s staring up at him with a mischievous grin as he tugs at the arm of Derek’s first ever Batman figure like he’s trying to separate it from Batman’s body.

An alternate take on Teen Wolf, wherein Stiles and Derek are childhood friends, and things unfold from there.

Kingdom By The Sea

kilaem

Summary:

Lydia grabs his arm and pulls him down in the seat next to her. “When the hell did you find time to bag a guy like Hale?”

“We’re friends,” Stiles feels his face heat up, and then the team are running out and Derek sees him and smiles. His blush gets worse.

“Oh really?”

“Our moms were friends, okay? We’ve been in diapers together.”

“I thought you two hated each other.”

Those That Bump In The Night

bleep0bleep

Summary:

A boy’s head appears upside down, hanging off the bed. “Is anyone there?” he calls out curiously, looking right at Derek’s eyes. Caught, then. The protocol for being deliberately seen by a child is just to look as strange and fearsome as possible. No one would believe them, anyways. But Derek is tired, and he’s been running and scared, and now he just kind of flickers, curling out a tendril of dark smoke, hoping that he’s a little bit scary. No such luck. The boy’s eyes widen. “Oooh, are you the bogeyman?” “Bogeyperson,” Derek says, before he can help himself.

~

When Stiles was a boy, he had an imaginary friend named Derek. Ten years later, Derek comes back, and is very, very real.

Five Times Derek and Stiles Kissed For Practice (And One Time They Didn't)

mikkimouse

Summary:

In which Derek and Stiles grow up together and practice kissing, roughly in that order.

216 + 1: Words To Say Instead of I Love You

briggs

Summary:

Derek and Stiles have been best friends for fourteen years. They have their differences, sure, but it's never been a question for them. Their friendship has been the most solid thing in their lives -- until suddenly it isn't anymore.

Funny how just a few choice words can throw fourteen years of friendship off-balance.

OR

a collection of "Bro, That's Gay" one-shots that actually ended up turning into a concrete storyline.

hope is the thing with feathers (part of a series)

ShanaStoryteller

Summary:

Stiles is ten when he saves the Hales from their burning home and Derek from a wolfsbane bullet, and this establishes a pattern that seem to continue indefinitely.

"Then he's facing a burning home, and he wraps the hood of his sweatshirt around his mouth before he pushes the door open and steps inside. There's Mr. Hale asleep - he hopes asleep - on the couch, next to - Stiles thinks that's his brother but there are so many Hales, who can keep track. He rushes over and starts shaking him, can see the rise and fall of the man's chest so he knows he's alive, but he's not waking up. He shoves away his hood so he can shout, "Mr. Hale! You have to get up, there's a fire! Mr. Hale, get up!" Nothing, he's not even twitching, both of them taking in deep even breaths like they're having the most peaceful of rests, and Stiles is going to cry. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" There's a moment, where all Stiles can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and not the roar of the flames or the creak of wood, then with a violent, silent pop it's all back and both of the men are gasping awake, eyes open and jumping to their feet. "

(one of my favourite fics like EVER)

it came from the trees

whatshouldntbe

Summary:

“Don’t worry, Scott caught me up on everything,” Kira assures with a bubbly smile via video-chat. “You and Derek, huh? I probably should have seen that coming. I always thought it might be Cora, but Derek was the one that looked at you how I used to look at you.”

Stiles goes a little pink. “It’s still kinda new but, yeah. I really like him. He’s...” Beautiful. Patient. Smart. Painfully honest. Sweet.“...a total dork.”

Kira laughs and laughs. When she gets herself together, she replies, “Yeah, those little hearts and stars in your eyes definitely say different."

or

Stiles moves from the shiny, fast-paced lifestyle of Los Angeles to the foggy, sleepy town of Beacon Hills so his dad can become the new sheriff. Newly fifteen, he does his best to finish out his freshman year of high school (by staying under the radar) when he suddenly becomes the Beyoncé of the Supernatural community. And, without much prompting on his part, he ends up catching the eye of one of the most prominent Werewolf families in all of North America. It literally all starts with a stuffed animal(s).

(oh god this fic is the literal best even though its abandoned it ends at okay-ish place. this is one of the best hale family characterisations ive ever read. if you squint it can be a childhood friends to lovers fic but im including it anyway bc its amazing)

Promises aren't Meant to be Broken

paradis

Summary:

“Thanks for saving me,” Stiles blurts out, staring up at Laura, wide eyed.

Laura grins. “I like you,” she says, “we’ll be friends.”

(more laura and stiles besties centric but totally worth a read)

The Things We See

MelodramaticSalad

Summary:

Stiles grew up in the life of knowing that there was always more to life than what others saw with a first glance. Even as a child he saw things that no one else seemed to and always had a fascination with the unusual.

Some considered him an unusual child, but Claudia welcomed every single quirk her son displayed. His mother had a few special talents of her own and thrilled her to see it in her son as well. She'd raised Stiles to always keep his mind open and as grew and started to display his powers, she began to teach him how to use them. She even taught Stiles about werewolves at a young age, his infatuation with them growing once he had learned the truth about her closest friend.

Stiles spent nearly every possible moment that he could roaming the Hale house, following after the middle child most of the time. Derek was three years older than Stiles, but the bond they developed with each other was something their mothers considered out of a story book. Like Derek, Stiles was sensitive to his emotions, but unlike Derek, Stiles didn't need a scent to figure it out. He could feel it.

take me back

matildajones

Summary:

“I dare you to kiss me,” Stiles taunts, and he’s not expecting the way Derek says a naughty word under his breath and then leans forward.

Stiles yelps. He just dodges Derek’s mouth before he’s laughing wildly and running through the trees, calling out a series of ew ew ew as Derek chases him back home.

[samanthadalton]

Star crossed lovers (au)

pairings: poppy x mc (bea) 

warnings: throughout this fic (there will be a bunch of parts to it) there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide 

reader discretion is advised

(this chapter is more about setting up the basis of the story so is more context than anything else, part 2 will be more interesting I swear 😭, also it’s like 4am so if there’s any gramatical mistakes I’ll fix it later) 

taglist: @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @cloud9in @simpforpoppy @ognenniyvolk (I’m pretty sure this is my tag list if you wanna be added or taken off for future chapters just ask 😊) 

word count: 3.6k 

Part 1: The introduction

As the sun began to set, the houses along the street began to bask in its warm glow. The neighbourhood is quiet, like always, excluding the occasional car engine rumbling through the roads until they disappear into the distance and once again the silence is deafening. This neighbourhood was your typical suburban type, their structures stood tall and bold. Looking from an aerial point of view, one could argue that it’s almost like the houses have been copied and pasted along the street, they almost look perfect. One theory is that they were purposely made to look like they're perfect because they don’t want anyone to find out their secrets. It’s harder to catch a true glimpse when everything looks flawless.

If you compare the northside and the southside of Greensburg, it makes it seem like they’re living in two different worlds and maybe they are. The polarisation between the rich and the poor only becomes bigger, demonstrated by the high socio-economic backgrounds of those who lived in the north who go to the best schools, have the best jobs and sometimes own more than one house. Compared to those in a low socio economic background in the south, who usually have to work two jobs just to feel some sort of financial stability in their lives or have no choice but to indulge in illegal jobs just so they can feel some sort of power and superiority and have money of course. Only a few in the south are able to lead a straight and narrow life and successfully do it without having to engage in the culture of illegal activities. 

Bea Hughes, a girl who lives in Greensburg is someone who managed to immerse herself in both worlds. She used to be part of the upper class lifestyle but after life fucked her and her family over at the tender age of 8 years old, she was pulled into another world, one that she quickly had to acquaint herself with, because in the south, survival matters. The luxuries she once knew as a kid had disappeared and she constantly lived in a fight or flight situation. Now as her senior year of high school looms ahead, she finds herself still living in a similar situation, but instead of dealing with gangs or her addict of a mother, she had to deal with stuck up rich kids in Greensburg’s most prestigious school, Belvoire, which may have been her toughest obstacle of all. Against all odds, Bea managed to earn a scholarship at this private school when she was 15, and in order to keep her place, she has to maintain a 4.0 GPA, join at least one extra curricular activity and immerse herself into the culture of the school (whatever that meant). 

Even though life managed to be shitty most of the time, there was one constant, one thing that made life worth living, one thing that made her the happiest…

“Crap”, the brunette clung onto the branch of the tree trying to regain her footing after narrowly avoiding her death (or more likely a trip to the hospital). After recovering from her mild slip, she rapped on the window beside her and a few seconds later the window slides open and as she enters the room she trips up on her own feet landing face down on the floor. 

“Real smooth”

Bea chuckles at the snark comment as she looks up and as the sunlight shines through the window, it highlights all the features of the other girl. She was shorter than Bea (although not in this moment since Bea was practically laying on the floor), her facial features were sharp and her strawberry blonde hair fell perfectly around her shoulders. Her plush pink lips were curled up in a small smile as she offered a hand to the girl to help her up. 

“I totally meant to do that” Bea takes her hand and lifts herself off the floor, and after she quickly dusts herself off and grabs the blonde’s wrist pulling her towards her while her other hand settles on her waist. “So how much time do we have?”

The petite girl wounds her arms around the taller girl’s neck and slightly tip toes to whisper, “my dad has dinner with a bunch of investors so he’s not going to be back until midnight”. A huge smile appears on her face as she leans back slightly taking in the appraising look of the brunette. 

“Perfect”. 

Bea moves in to kiss the blonde, passion already igniting as their tongues tangle in a fight for dominance until Bea suddenly pulls away, foreheads touching, eyes blazing with desire as she whispers against the other girl’s lips, “I missed you Pops”. 

The other girl rolls her eyes and unwinds her arms from Bea’s neck, slightly pushing her back and while maintaining eye contact she walks backwards towards the bed and sits on the edge, “shuttup, you literally saw me yesterday” her tone attempting to come across as catty but instead comes out in a more playful manner. 

Bea raises an eyebrow as she saunters to where the girl is sitting and places two fingers under the girl’s chin lifting her face until their eyes meet, “so? I’m suddenly not allowed to miss my girlfriend?” She leans in, her lips ghosts around the blonde’s lips. 

“You talk too much, come on we’re wasting daylight” the blonde grabs Bea’s shirt and pulls her down onto the bed with her as they tussle in the sheets, lips crashing against one another reigniting the same passion from the kiss before. 

“Poppy..” Bea all but moans when Poppy places wet kisses along her jawline and begins biting at her neck. Not wanting her to have all the fun, Bea suddenly flips Poppy over pressing her deeper into the mattress as she ravenously kisses her, as if Poppy is the only one who can satiate her desire, and honestly speaking? She probably is. 

“No more foreplay, I want you now” Poppy breathlessly says, breaking the heated kiss. Bea sits up to straddle Poppy, intertwining both hands with hers and places it above the blonde’s head and grinds on her hips earning a low groan from Poppy. 

“Ask and you shall receive my queen”

In response, Poppy rolls her eyes and her tongue darts out of her mouth, teasingly moving against her own soft lips and as Bea leans in for another kiss her slender fingers move lightly above Poppy’s inner thigh, touching everywhere except where Poppy wanted her the most. After a few pleads from the blonde, Bea finally indulges her desires and they moved in perfect syncopation. 

….. 

After a while, Bea and Poppy collapse into each other’s arms, exhausted but satisfied recovering from their physically demanding rendezvous. Bea lays on her back with one arm behind her head and one arm wrapped around the petite girl who fit perfectly in her larger frame. Poppy relaxes her head on Bea’s chest, feeling lulled by her heartbeat which brings her a sense of calm and security. Bea softly kisses her forehead and looks down at the girl, entranced by her beauty, enrapturing the way her breaths are slightly longer and deeper than usual, the way her hair falls around her face and how her fingers subconsciously ghost around Bea’s stomach drawing lazy shapes. 

Poppy Min Sinclair, a 5’2 blonde beauty who is Bea’s entire world. Everything about her screams perfection in Bea’s eyes. She’s a straight A student, captain of the cheerleading team, and likes to spend time volunteering at her local animal shelter and is secretly an amazing artist. Though her family was one of the richest families in Greensburg, Poppy wasn’t your average highschool rich girl. Though she would often go on regular shopping sprees and refuse to wear anything that wasn’t designer (unless it was Bea’s clothes), she never treated Bea any differently than how others would. She was a bright girl, who was loving, friendly, fierce when she needed to be and extremely loyal. When it was just her and Bea she could show her true self, not pretend to be someone she’s not or play a certain role, she could just simply be Poppy instead of Poppy Min Sinclair. Poppy often felt the gravity that came with her name, especially since that’s all her father pressured her to be, a Min Sinclair. 

Hayden Min Sinclair, Poppy’s father, owned an entire empire of companies, differentiating from technology based businesses to architecture and finance. To say he was a businessman was putting it lightly, he was almost like a god or at least someone who was highly worshipped by business moguls. He built up his family’s name and within a decade he was a force to be reckoned with. Hayden Min Sinclair worked his ass off to lift his companies off the ground because as a person of colour he knew he would have to work 10x harder to get what he wanted. All he ever wants is life for his daughter to be easy, the irony is, that he’s one of the main reasons why it’s so hard. 

He’s a man of honour and pride and has never expected anything less from his daughter, hoping she would keep the dignity attached to the Min Sinclair name and bring it to new heights. So his traditionalist and conservative views means that he’s expecting Poppy to marry a man, who’s also an aristocrat, in which Bea is 0 for 2 for Poppy’s father’s expectations. Hence, Bea and Poppy have to keep their relationship a secret, a way to protect both Poppy and her future but also Bea from Mr Min Sinclair’s wrath. Reputation means everything to the Min Sinclairs and to Mr Min Sinclair specifically, especially after Poppy’s mother passed away when Poppy was 10 after an unfortunate incident of a drunken hit and run which left Poppy permanently broken from the loss of her mother but had all the socialites gossiping about the tragedy for months. To this day Poppy and her father still mourn her loss and Poppy often turns to Bea for comfort, for her companionship could provide the means of making her forget the empty presence of her mother that was left behind. 

They’d known each other since they were 7, when Bea used to live in the very same neighbourhood after the Min Sinclair’s moved into the neighbourhood, and they spent almost every waking hour together, attached by the hip. They were the best of friends and almost nothing could get in their way. Emphasis on the ‘almost’. 

When Bea’s father left Bea’s mother, Isabella when Bea was 8 and her sister Aria was 2, after finding out that Aria wasn’t his child as a result of a one night stand Isabella had, Bea’s family struggled to afford to live in the neighborhood especially since Bea’s father was the breadwinner of the house and their main source of income. After a series of bad decisions resulting in Bea’s mother losing her job as a banker, the 3 girls were forced to move to the south of Greensburg since it was the only thing they could afford. 

Bea and Poppy were still inseparable at this point, either Bea would take 2 buses to go to Poppy’s house or Poppy would call the family’s driver so she could go over the Bea’s. The breaking point for their friendship was the day when Bea’s mother once took the girls to the park when they were 11 and after she had gotten so intoxicated to the point she threw up in front of all the children, and Poppy’s father prohibited Poppy from seeing Bea again. 

“That girl and her family will bring shame to our family’s name, imagine what your mother would say” Poppy can still hear her father’s words ringing in her head from time to time, but everytime she looks at Bea, all her expectations would disappear and she would just simply be happy.

They began dating when they were 14, after Poppy had managed to scrounge up all her courage to kiss Bea on valentine’s day, after the two girls had snuck away to a diner to hang out like they would usually do. Poppy looked as if she was going to pass out from embarrassment when Bea didn’t reciprocate the kiss at first, however in Bea’s defence she was more startled than anything else. When Poppy was about to apologise Bea moved in and gave Poppy a sweet and chaste kiss on the lips and from then they decided they would be together. Bea couldn’t believe her luck when she was able to call Poppy hers, she felt like she didn’t have much to offer Poppy as she had yet to have earned the scholarship to Belvoire, the same school that Poppy had been attending. As well as coming from a troubled family life she didn’t want to implicate Poppy in any way but staying away from her had proven to be too difficult. 

The consequences of their forbidden love was much harder on her than it was on Poppy, still nevertheless she would do anything for Poppy, which was proven time and time again when they have to act like strangers at school. In spite of that, the stolen glances, the stolen moments, the stolen kisses, it made it all worth it. 

“Are you ready for school tomorrow” Poppy’s soft voice vibrated against Bea’s chest. 

Bea lets out a soft chuckle, “What do you think Pops? I’m the school’s lonely girl”

Bea’s reputation at Belvoire could not be worse, in a school filled with entitled brats, it was difficult for her to make any friends considering her economic background. She also couldn’t rely on Poppy and her popularity since she couldn’t be within any vicinity of the girl she loves. Bea and Poppy’s friends had a history of not getting along, and since Poppy couldn’t allow the true nature of her relationship with Bea to come to light, Bea had to deal with all sorts of harassment and bullying from them. Bea often had to remind herself that she was only a target because with money comes a lot of entitlement, especially from snobby teenagers. Moreover, the consequences of her mother’s actions also didn’t help Bea as the stories followed her everywhere, causing all sorts of rumours to spread like wildfire. 

Poppy lifted her head slightly to look into Bea’s eyes, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant it’s the last year of highschool, that means one last chance for us to win nationals and for you to come on top for volleyball.”

As mentioned beforehand, the extra curricular Bea chose to partake in was volleyball, not only did being part of a winning sports team look good on a college application, it also helped Bea with releasing her pent up anger and dominating her competition. Her favourite thing in particular was the smaller group of cheerleaders, including Poppy, who were at every game after Poppy made a compelling argument to the principle about the importance of raising school spirit in all sport related inquiries. Bea would often steal a glimpse at Poppy, who always came up with extra dance moves and cheers, sending secret messages that she was rooting for her girlfriend. 

“One more year of highschool, do you know what that means Pops?” Bea smiled devilishly at Poppy who returned the smile and leaned her face in, lips ghosting around Bea’s. 

“Why don’t you remind me?”

Bea grabbed the blonde’s waist and stole a quick kiss, “One more year means that next year we’ll both be in New York, and we can finally be together for real”. 

“I can’t wait to live off campus with you, we should start looking at places now so we can get ahead and find a good place sin-” Bea cuts her off with a kiss while Poppy smiles, “I hate when you interrupt me with kisses”

“No you don’t”

“You’re right I don’t, but you better not slack this year Bea Hughes otherwise I’ll beat your ass if you don’t get into Columbia”

“I would never, I’m literally a better student than you babe. I would say you shouldn’t slack either but we all know daddy’s going to help you get into NYU.”

Poppy playfully slaps Bea on the arm who just laughs, “hey, no way in hell am I going to use the Min Sinclair name like that, when” (she made sure to put extra emphasis as she spoke) “I get into NYU it will be because of how amazing and talented I am” 

“Not to mention damn right gorgeous and smart and incredibly flexible”

Poppy moves to straddle Bea, hands on either side of her head and she leans in, “hmm, you think the admission office will be looking at those particular things?” her tone teasing and inviting. 

Bea attempts to move her head up only for Poppy to quickly place her perfectly manicured hand around her neck and push her down, Bea’s eyes flash as her voice pulsates with desire, “well I’ll definitely be looking, for educational reasons of course”

Poppy breaks out into a wide grin as the girls share a passionate kiss, tongues tangled together as they fight for dominance, Bea tries to envelop Poppy’s entire mouth with her kiss but Poppy’s unrelenting perseverance pushes through as she tightens the grip around Bea’s neck, pushing her deeper into the mattress. Bea succumbs to Poppy’s kisses and allows the blonde’s tongue to explore the inside of her mouth, getting lost in the wave of pleasure that emanates from Poppy’s lips. 

After a few more kisses, Bea looks at the digital clock sitting on top of Poppy’s dresser, “damn it’s getting late I should go”

“Wha- it’s barely 10 o’clock”, Poppy pouts as her eyebrows furrow slightly. 

“I know” Bea places a hand on Poppy’s face gently brushing against her cheekbone, “but you need your 8 hours of sleep and I gotta make sure everything is ready for Aria tomorrow”. 

Poppy sighs defeatedly as she knows how important Bea’s half sister is to her, she’s practically an older sister to Aria and is also incredibly protective of her too. “Well tell Aria I said hi”

Bea moves to stand and Poppy grabs her hand, “wait, you didn’t tell me, how’s your mom?”

Bea nonchalantly shrugged and gazed at the floor, “same old, same old, she drinks herself into oblivion not giving a shit about the rest of us” 

Poppy rubbed comforting circles on Bea’s hand, “don’t worry Bea one day it will get better” 

Bea lets out a humourless laugh, “I’ve been saying that for almost 10 years”

She stalks over to the window and lets half of her body hang out ready to reach out to the tree, Poppy moves over and gives Bea one last lingering kiss, “You know you can use the front door, my dad’s not here”

“Yeah I know but it’s always so awkward when I run into Rita at this time because she knows that I’m screwing you”, Bea smiles while Poppy raises an eyebrow

“Screwing me?”

“Sorry I meant making love to you” she gives Poppy a quick kiss 

“Much better, and anyways Rita doesn’t care, she’s been rooting for us this entire time”

“It’s okay, don’t worry P, I’ve been climbing in and out of these windows and over that gate for years, how else do you think I got these muscles”, she flexes her toned arms while Poppy runs a hand over them, “I love you”

“I love you too”, Poppy watches as Bea moves out of the window, gripping the tree and making her descent, “wait” she shouts down, “where did you leave your bike?”

Bea smiles up at her, “I parked it a couple of blocks away from here it’s fine, I’ll text you when I get home” she blows a kiss to Poppy and begins making her way over the gate and into the street which shone bright from the lampposts. Poppy sighs and closes her window and begins getting ready for bed until a knock at her door catches her attention. Rita, her nanny and keeper enters the room and looks at Poppy with a knowing glance, ‘Bea didn’t want to stay for dinner?’ 

Poppy laughs slightly and shakes her head, “no she had to get home to make sure her sister is okay”

Rita leaves a plate with a few cucumber and cheese sandwiches on the dresser, “don’t stay up too late Miss Min Sinclair,” and with that she gives a little wave and leaves the room closing the door behind her. After eating half of her sandwich and going through her extensive nighttime routine, she receives a text from Bea

💖 B

Just got home now 

Love you and goodnight my love

Poppy smiles at her phone and then sets her phone on her dresser, not before putting it on charge, and drifts off to sleep. 

Bea on the other hand was wide awake. When she safely parked her motorbike near her house and texted Poppy as she entered the house. She looked up from her phone into the dark room to see the tv quietly playing while her mother was passed out on the couch with a half drunk bottle of vodka on the table. She moved towards the couch covering her mom with a blanket and then went into her bedroom to check on her sister who was soundly sleeping in her bed. Bea headed into the kitchen took some cold pizza from the fridge and did some last minutes checks to make sure both her and her sister were equipped and ready for school tomorrow. She settled in her bed, her mind racing with thoughts about school and how challenging the first day back will be. 

read part 2: 

[revchainsaw]

The Crow (1994)

Alright Cult of Cult. Do I really need to introduce this one? Let's get all 90s and gothy and maybe brace ourselves for a bit of cringe, but like in a fun way. It's the Holy Grail of Hot Topic, 1994's the Crow Starring Brandon Lee.

Sermon

Apparently before the auto industry totally crashed Detroit was already a total fucked to death pile of burning shit, or at least that's what the crow would have you believe. Sorry Bruce Campbell, and other people from Detroit, but mostly Bruce Campbell. According to the Crow the city of Detroit is the kind of place where gangs of warlock anarchist arsonists will bomb buildings, and murder and rape whoever they feel like and then walk around bragging about it the next day with absolutely zero consequences. Funny then that if Detroit was so bad they had to go to film this movie in Wilmington North Carolina which is definitely a fucked to death pile of burning shit. I can say that, I'm from there and I got the fuck out. My brother is going to kill me if he ever reads this. (It's okay, these are all jokes people). Did you know they also filmed the Super Mario Bros movie there ... also cuz they needed a really shitty looking distopia. Moving on ...

The ludicrous criminality of the Crow's Detroit is particularly on display on Halloween. In Detroit (apparently) Halloween is known as Devils Night and it's legitimately just a night of pure lawlessness and chaos and kids aren't even safe to get candy, except later when we do see trick or treaters. Eric Draven, hunky goth rocker who sort of looks like he could be Bruce Lee's Kid and his fiance are murdered by a gang of vicious criminals. One year hence, Eric is resurrected by a mystical crow (that is actually a Raven), to exact his revenge on the gang that murdered him.

He paints his face like sad Alice Cooper and refuses to listen to Joy Division, just covers. He murders Tin Tin (a knife guy) just for his long gothy duster, he murders Fun Boy and forcibly ejects heroine from her arms and tells her "Go be a good mom now" which actually works. (have I told you about our Lord and Savior Sting? He gave me the strength to get off drugs), he blows T Bird up dick first, and then comes for Skab? Scraap? Scooby? in a meeting of all of Detroits villains and just about kills them all.

He is supported by the most 90s little girl to have ever graced the screen, and I am here for it, and Officer Albrecht, who's played by Ernie Hudson but I like to call him Zeddemore: The Most Underrated Ghostbuster. The leader of the bad guys, who I cannot beleive wasn't played by Brad Dourif or Tom Waits, is pretty interested in the occult. He keeps his witchy girlfriend around and she makes him fun dishes like smoked eyeballs, and her main use is that she knows that the Crow is the Crows weakness. They set Tony Fucking Todd on the bird, and I guess you just have to hurt the bird and not kill it, and Eric loses his healing factor and other macabre undead powers.

The Crow, Jimmy the Raven, pecks out Dr. Girlfriends eyeballs, I honestly forget how Tony Todd gets offed, and Top Dollar gets Gargoyled (that is impaled on a gargoyle). Funnily enough that is more Gargoyle related impaling on screen then in the actual movie Gargoyle: Wings of Darkness where a Gargoyle is supposed to have impaled a guy.

The Benediction

Best Feature: Injustice League

In the Crow we have not only a set of super memorable villains but they are played by the bad guy all stars. John Polito as the most lowly of the bad guys as a kind of sleazy pawn shop owner who buys ill gotten gains. Tony Todd, who's size is really on display here, the freaking Candy Man is in this movie. T Bird is the head of Top Dollars goons and is played by David Patrick Kelly, you might know as the "Warriors Come Out and Play!!" bottle guy from the Warriors, or as Jimmy Horne from Twin Peaks, and of course Top Dollar himself is played by Michael Wincott. Wincott is not a particularly celebrated actor but has played villains effectively in Robin Hood, the Three Musketeers, and Dead Man.

Best Set Piece: Detroit Style Hot Dogs

The Set design of the Crow is perhaps one of it's most fantastic features. It's very moody and ethereal. It's just real enough to not take you out of the film, but fantastic enough to set mood and theme above realism. From Eric Draven's apartment, to the church where the final battle occurs they are all fantastic. I think that's why I really wanted to shine the spot light on a very minor set piece that would get nary a mention but just as effectively represents the qualities I was just talking about and that is the Maxi Doggs Hot Dog Stand, where a lot of the films exposition for audience surrogates takes place.

Worst Effect: Freeze Frame

At a few points in the movie the film makers made a strange decision to do these freeze frame transitions. I only noticed it twice in the movie where it was particularly stupid. I'm sure the film makers at the time thought it was a moody and atmospheric choice that highlighted the suffering that Eric Draven was going through, but it didn't age well. If you don't have the sensibilities of a goth girl from 1994 then it's very very hard not to laugh at just how self involved the movie is about it's super sadness.

Worst Feature: Tragic Accident

Solely based on the film itself, it is that very gothic and dated sensibility that hurts the Crow. The little sarcastic dance he does when he flees the police, quoting Edgar Allen Poe, and bowing to Albrecht. These affected behaviors that I'm sure seemed snarky and right on to the target audience only serve to make Eric Draven seem like an unbearable neck beard edgelord and not the troubled dark soul he's supposed to be. I'm sure at the time it seemed unique and gothy but that shit went out of style for good reason, people could see through it. It's a shame that the Crow himself was some of the cringiest parts of this movie now that I'm seeing it as an adult and not a 13 year old middle class boy with no real problems.

This however is not the low point of the movie. It's not news now and if you're reading some dudes review of The Crow on Tumblr then you probably already know the story. The worst thing about The Crow is that Brandon Lee was horrifically killed on set while filming this movie due to some negligible prop malfunctions. A series of unfortunate events that lead to the actor spending 6 hours in surgery fighting for his life before eventually passing. It was not a quick or painless death and it's really impossible to watch the movie without an appreciation for the fact that this kind of fun dark adventure was going to be a vehicle for Brandon Lee's career wound up taking his life. He was 28. I really wish I could have just bitched about the goofy goth stuff and moved on, but that's not the world we live in.

Best Effect: The Gargoyling

Maybe I should have called this best kill. But I'm not sure which it is. The slaying of Top Dollar at the Climax of the film was just super effective. The pointed wings impaling his chest and that horn coming out of his mouth, it was morbid and excellent and just fit the tone of the movie perfectly. I mean how many other movies can you say Cause of Death: Impaled on a Gargoyle.

Best Bird: The Raven

I tried very hard to look up the name of the bird that primarily performed in this movie and could not find anything. There was a Raven once upon a time called Jimmy the Raven, but that was in the 50s and I don't think birds live that long. There was a team of Ravens performing as the crow, they were chosen over crows for their larger size, and more imposing silhouettes. I just think it's so wonderful to see these often maligned birds get a chance to show off their talents. Corvids of all kinds are incredibly intelligent creatures. Im a sucker for animals, if you haven't already figured that out. I really liked seeing the ravens hit their marks, particularly the one whos job it was to drop the wedding ring into Sarah's hand at the end of the film. You can see that greedy little bastard do his trick and then look of camera at his trainer like "treat please!". It's very cute.

Best Actor: Top Dollar Performance

I'd love to take this opportunity to just put praise upon Brandon Lee, he truly gave everything for this role, but unfortunately with what was put to film we actually have very few character moments with Eric Draven. Stuff happens to him, and he does killings and fights. There's definitely some personality, but I felt like I walked away knowing almost nothing about who Eric Draven was. He was clearly a good dude but that and a few hobbies and a relationship and you don't really have a character yet. He's unfortunately not given a lot of acting to do, instead just relegated to stunts and action sequences. That were notably cool.

The bad guys in the Crow have a lot more character and among this who's who of character actors, Michael Wincott takes the cake. Hell he was standing next to Candyman himself, Tony Todd and still stealing the scenes.

Best Character: A Few Good Apples

Is the best character in The Crow really going to be the cop? The commissioner Gordon stand in? yeah, it is. Not to be political, but I don't like cops, but I guess in a world with magical birds and eyeball smoking I can suspend my disbelief and let Ernie Hudson be #1 cop dad. His character is really the heart of the film, since all Eric can do is brood and fight, we have to care about someone in this movie.

Best Sequence: Halloween Party

The best sequence of the movie is of course the scene where Eric Draven busts in on the Devil's Night party planning commission. I think Top Dollar brought Scrappy Doo there just so he could lure out the crow, knowing the baddest assholes in all of Detroit would be gathered it was likely that somebody was going to kill the beast, or if they couldn't at least Top Dollar could get a feel for his enemy. It's a bullet flying action sequence with a ton of weight. I can't put my finger on this all to common weightless third act problem that big budget super hero and action flicks have nowadays, but whatever that issue is, the Crow does not have that issue. From this point on the Climax feels earned and I am invested. For that reason, The Crow is honestly better in spite of its awkwardness, than many of the super hero movies out today.

Worst Sequence: My Guitar Gently Weeps

Speaking of brooding or fighting. The best sequence was fighting, the worst is brooding. I get that Eric was in a band or something, but didn't he have shit to do. It seemed like it was a cool idea for a shot, but for like a whole seen, watching somebody play an 80s guitar solo, that stood out so brazenly from the choices of music in the rest of the movie was extra corny. It felt like someone's( dad trying to relate to their kid. Oh you like Music. The Dresden Dolls eh? Oh man, then you're going to love Slash's Snake Pit!

Summary

The Crow is dated. It is iconic but I wonder how many of the people that hang that poster on the wall have watched that movie since they were kids. It's interesting how what i've liked and disliked about this film have changed so much sense I was a kid. It's a cheeseball fiesta. If you have matured at all beyond thinking that being sad is the same as being deep then you're going to like it a little less than you did when you were younger, but it is still solid. There's not much to hate on. I'd watch it over and over again. I was really afraid it would not hold up at all, but returning to The Crow was a completely positive experience.

Overall Grade: B

[spicykoreantatertots]

Camp Blue Side - Part Three

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Summer Camp AU, Non Idol AU

Rating: 18+ (eventual smut)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Swearing, angst, (more in future parts)

Summary: Last summer, sparks flew between you and Hoseok. He had an unforgettable smile, and you were putty in his hands. By the end of the summer, promises were made and you shared your phone number. But he never called. This summer, you're back at camp with a vengeance. Ghosted or not, you're ready for some friendly competition. He may be a Camp Blue Side veteran, but you won't back down.

Notes: This fic has been updated and is now part of the Summer of Love Collab! Please join us as we finish summer strong with seven summer themed fics!

Summer of Love Masterlist

Banner: @sunshinejunghoseokie​

Camp Blue Side - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

~~~~~~~

How did it come to this?

You are walking slowly to the camp office where you will meet with Hoseok and the LCT. The two of you will likely be reprimanded, but could she fire you? Would she fire you halfway through camp? She’s had a stick up her ass all summer, but would she actually go as far to remove you from Team Two?

This isn’t who you are, the yelling and screaming. But the competition, wanting to crush Hoseok, has affected you too much. It’s affecting the kids too, and it honestly makes you sick. As you drag your feet to the meeting, the events of the past three weeks unfold clearly in your mind.

~~~~~~~

Kick Ball

“Who wants to beat Team One?!” You shout to a crowd of campers, and they cheer in response. You’ve got a great group of campers this year. It’s still day one, so everyone is still pumped and not too tired to give it their all.

Jessica, an athletic 13 year old, is up to pitch the kickball to Team One’s first kicker. The anticipation builds as she finds her grip on the rubber ball. Hoseok is muttering something to his kicker, some kind of pep talk as he walks up to the plate.

“Great pitch!” Mack yells as Jessica throws the ball down to home plate. Hoseok’s kicker strikes himself out and you’ve never been so stoked to see a child fail to kick a ball. You wouldn’t let them see it, but you’re beaming inside.

“Yes! Great job Jessica!” You cheer from the sidelines.

“That’s alright Braden, you’ll get it next time buddy!” Hoseok comforts his kicker as he returns to the back of the line. You feel a little tug on your shirt and look behind you to see a short boy looking up at you. What is his name again?

“Y/N, can I pitch in the next inning?” The scrawny boy asks. Jessica has already managed to strike someone out, taking her off the pitching mound would risk the game.

“Well, uh, champ, let’s see how Jessica does and then we’ll decide, okay?” As the words come out of your mouth, you feel dirty. You know this isn’t what camp is about.

But Jessica strikes out two more players from Hoseok’s team before they can score any points. Hoseok has his back turned to you, talking to his players, but Yeonjun looks frustrated already and that feels fucking great.

“Let’s keep it going! Who are my strong kickers?” You ask everyone, not addressing the camper in front of you again. The boy sulks away, and doesn’t ask to pitch again.

~~~~~~~

Egg & Spoon Race

An American classic event, the egg and spoon race. It is simple, but by no means is it easy. Especially not when the spoons are held by uncoordinated children. Luckily, Seokjin protested the waste of real eggs and the kids are using ping pong balls instead. So at least there won’t be a huge mess.

The first week of camp is almost over and you’ve had the chance to get to know your campers a little more. Currently they are taking turns running down the field with the spoon. They have to run down the field and come back to tag the next person in line. So far, they are pretty even with their opponents, Team One and Team Three.

“Hey, Y/N, Jakobi said he doesn’t want to do this activity, what should I do?” Mack asks.

Jakobi, poor Jakobi. He was the kid that you turned down for pitching in kickball earlier this week.

“I’ll go talk to him.” You reply. He is standing out of the line of campers, and you jog over to him. “Hey buddy, what’s going on?”

“I don’t want to play this game.” He sulks. “I’m not fast enough.” His explanation hits you in the chest. This is your fault, isn’t it?

“This game isn’t about being fast! It’s about having a steady hand.” You reply cheerfully.

“What do you mean?” He asks, looking up at you with his big brown eyes.

“Here, hold your hands out like this.” You put your hands out in front of you, and he follows suit. “See, your hands are frozen, not moving at all! You won’t drop the egg, and that’s more important than being fast.”

Jakobi, pleased with this response, gets back in line and waits for his turn to help the team. You hadn’t been paying attention to the race for a few minutes, but it looks like your team has actually managed to pull ahead of Hoseok’s.

“Alright Jakobi! You got this!” You cheer as he gets tagged in. Jakobi begins walking down the field. Slowly. “Maybe a little faster, champ!” You cheer again.

“You said I could go slow!” He stops in the middle of the field to talk to you.

“You can, you can! Just keep going please.” You try to reassure him, but you know the smile isn’t convincing.

“Ja-kob-i. Ja-kob-i.” You begin chanting, and the rest of your team does as well. Jakobi, still walking at a slow pace, makes it to the end of the field without dropping the egg, now he’s just got to make it back.

Unfortunately, Hoseok’s team is now on their last few campers. You look over and see Hoseok grinning like a fool. He’s pleased because he knows he’s going to win. You can feel the urge to scream at Jakobi to run, but before you do you lock eyes with him.

He’s beaming.

“I didn’t drop it!” Jakobi celebrates as he finally returns to his team and tags the next person in line.

“You did a great job Jakobi!” You smile and give him a high-five. Your team may lose this game, but at least they all played.

Team One’s last player crosses the finish line, then Team Three’s, then Team Two’s. The winning team cheers gleefully, celebrating their victory. The campers disperse from today’s Team Game and head to their cabins to get ready for dinner.

Hoseok is collecting the supplies from the game to return to the equipment. Your kids handed you the spoon and ping pong ball, so you have to hand it over to him. He’s already walking toward you to gather the supplies.

He’s wearing a white tank top and his beige bucket hat. Somehow he makes it look like high fashion. Just a few days into camp and he’s already gotten a tan. His golden skin glows in the sunlight.

“Hey Y/N, great game.” He laughs, words dripping with sarcasm. You stop about five feet away from him and drop the spoon and ping pong ball on the grass before walking away. “Come on, don’t be a sore loser.”’

“Don’t be a sore winner, Hobi.”

It stops you dead in your tracks. The nickname that you called him last summer just slipped out in your frustration. A lump forms in your throat, and before you can even think about what to do, your feet are running away from him.

~~~~~~~

The Prank

Early in the week, a few counselor’s decided to sneak into cabin 13. Of course Jimin and Jungkook were involved, along with the two female counselor’s they’ve been wooing. Seokjin told you that they were found out because they ran screaming from the cabin after they saw a ghost.

Cabin 13, the long abandoned cabin at the edge of camp, has been used for smoking weed, secret rendezvous, and pranks. Officially, it’s on standby in case the infirmary fills up or if something contagious breaks out.

Several times last summer, you and Hoseok snuck out about a couple hours after lights out to chill and smoke weed. The weed he brought to camp wasn’t very strong, so it really just took the edge of things. The conversations you had there are what cemented your romance. He loved to talk about the stars and what lies beyond them, and it filled the air with mystery.

“Guys, guys! Guess what!” Ryujin approaches you and Seokjin outside the Mess Hall, just after dinner.

“What is it? I don’t like to guess.” Seokjin responds.

“Yeonjun asked me to meet him at cabin 13.” She’s beaming. Her excitement reminds you of the feeling you had when Hoseok first asked you to go there with him.

“Shh!” Seokjin hushes her. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. Especially not those two.” He adds, pointing at Namjoon and the LCT.

“What? I thought you guys went there.”

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s an open secret, but you still don’t want to get caught there.” You explain.

“Being out past curfew is technically against the rules too, and Namjoon is a stickler for it.” Seokjin adds.

“Oh, well... Hoseok will be there too, he goes there like twice a week. We’ll be careful!” Ryujin turns and walks away.

“Did you hear that Jin?” You ask, a devious smile spreading across your face.

“Oh god, what are you thinking?” Seokjin replies nervously.

“Well, as Lead Counselor of this fine establishment, I think you should be in charge of ghost hunting.”

“Ghost hunting?” He questions.

It wasn’t quite ghost hunting you had in mind, actually. But manufacturing a ghost. One thing you know about Hoseok is that he firmly believes in spirits. It’s honestly surprising that he’s still willing to visit cabin 13 after Jungkook claimed to have seen a ghost there.

A little after midnight, Seokjin taps lightly on the door of your cabin. You open the door slowly and tiptoe out, white sheet in tow.

“What is that? They’re not gonna fall for that.” Seokjin whispers.

“Yes they will, once we prime them for it.” You respond.

Sneaking across camp is a little nerve-racking, but you manage to make it to the side of camp with the boys cabin and then to the north side of camp when cabin 13 is located. You hold up your hand to stop Seokjin from moving any closer.

Holding a finger up to your lip, you signal him to be quiet so you can listen. You can hear giggling coming from the dark cabin, they’re in there.

“Let’s move.” Your whisper is barely audible.

As you approach the cabin, you can hear the group more clearly. Yeonjun is giggling and Ryujin is coughing. Hoseok, is muttering something you can’t make out. His voice is monotone, mellow. Seokjin and you lean up against the side of the cabin, under the window on the back wall.

“Okay so what’s the plan?” Seokjin whispers.

“We’re going to start by making scratching noises and thumping noises, then you’ll get in position.” You explain.

“What do you mean I’ll be getting into position?!” Seokjin whisper-shouts.

“Shh! Did you hear that?” Hoseok asks from inside the cabin.

“No, what was it?” Yeonjun asks, holding back his giggles.

“Just thought I heard something.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and takes the sheet and wraps it around his shoulders. You search the ground and pick up a stray stick. You tap it against the wall a few times, but there’s no reaction from it. Instead of tapping it, you decide to scrape it against the wall slowly.

“Okay I heard it that time too.” Ryujin says.

“There must be something outside.” Hoseok replies, voice wavering.

“Yeah, it’s probably just an animal.” Yeonjun says.

You motion for Seokjin to cover himself with the sheet and crouch in front of the window, ready to jump. There is some whispering inside, so you decide to bang your fist against the wall loudly.

“Fuck!” Hoseok shouts.

“Just look out the window, it’s an animal!” Yeonjun replies. You hear some hesitant footsteps inching closer, then Seokjin springs up from the ground.

“GHOST!” Hoseok wails, and then you can hear the three of them scrambling to get out of the door on the other side of the cabin. The footsteps fade away as they sprint back to their respective cabins.

You and Seokjin fall on the ground, shaking with laughter.

“I can’t believe it worked” Seokjin gasps for air between laughs.

You stand from the ground after the laughter settles. Standing on your toes, you peer into the cabin window.

“Oh shit he left his bag of blunts! He must have really been scared.”

The two of you walk around to the front of the cabin and inspect the cabin. There’s a few empty beer cans and chip bags and the bag of blunts.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” You say, and Seokjin smiles.

~~~~~~~

Red Rover

In the heat of the afternoon, your campers are lined up across the field from their competitors, Team One. After a long day of singing, crafting, and other various outdoor activities, your campers are exhausted. It’s a triple digit day, and even you can’t deny that you’re feeling sluggish.

Red rover is a simple enough game, but Team One has more older boys and you’re afraid that your team won’t stand a chance, especially when they would much rather be cooling off in their cabins. Mack is currently attempting to give everyone a pep talk.

“I think we’re ready, Team One!” Mack yells across the field to Hoseok and Yeonjun. Both groups of campers hold hands with each other and prepare to hang on tight.

“Y’all won the last game, so go ahead and start us off!” Yeonjun announces.

“Let’s call for Tony.” You say in a loud whisper to your campers. You don’t trust them to pick an appropriate runner from the other team.

“Let them play.” Mack hisses at you. You look over at him, puzzled. “They are tired and you just need to let them play.” He must be grumpy from the heat.

“Fine, fine.” You raise your arms defensively.

“Red rover, red rover, let Tony come over!” Team Two shouts in unison. Tony, one of the smaller boys on Team One, does his best to sprint the distance between the two lines of campers. He tries his best, but does not manage to break through the bond on Team Two, so he is added to the line.

“Red rover red rover, let Hyuka come over!” Team One’s rebuttal is to take another small boy. Team Two naturally cheers for Hyuka as he runs over to Team One and he is successful in breaking through. He grabs a member of Team One and drags them over to your team.

“Great job guys! Keep it up!” You’re a little surprised that your team is actually winning right now.

After a few more rounds of red rover, the kids are really starting to sweat in the heat. But Team Two is still winning! Even after Jessica got taken into Team One.

“Hey campers, why don’t we go ahead and grab some ice pops in the Mess Hall!” Namjoon enthuses, practically sneaking up behind you.

“What? No! We’re winning!” You protest.

“Y/N,” Namjoon says, tilting his head at you. “It’s over one hundred degrees out here.”

“Ah... yes. Let’s go inside!” It’s embarrassing to let Namjoon catch you not putting the kids first. Even more embarrassing to watch him write something down his clipboard before motioning for the campers to follow him back to the Mess Hall.

“God, can you believe that?” You whisper to Mack, letting a good amount of distance fall between you and the flock of campers.

“You know, I honestly can’t believe you.” Mack stops in his tracks, glaring at you.

“What?” You gulp.

“Listen, you know I want to win games as much as the next guy, but you’re not putting campers first anymore. We’re almost halfway through the summer and you’re letting your stupid competition with Hoseok ruin the summer for our kids. I’m tired of it, Y/N.”

You’re completely speechless. You’ve never heard Mack yell at anyone before and now here he is, and Junior Counselor, berating you for ruining the summer?

“Just do better.” Mack says before jogging to catch up with the campers.

~~~~~~~

Freeze Tag

“If you see one of your teammates get frozen, make sure you help them get unfrozen. Does everyone understand?” All the campers agree to the rules of the game, and to the small bit of strategy you offered up.

This time, your team isn’t just up against Team One, but Team Three as well. It’s every man for himself, last man standing, truly a free for all. Though, you’re not too worried about Team Three. Their leaders are... distracted.

One of them is a young JC and the other is Jungkook’s new love interest. You don’t envy her. Every girl at this camp, campers and counselors, want a shot at Jungkook, but she’s the one who caught his eye. She did have an unfair advantage though, they were childhood friends or something like that.

“Ready, set, go!” The LCT yells and then blows her shiny whistle. The kids are off, scrambling every which way, trying not to get tagged. You are watching your campers closely, but they are getting tagged left and right.

“AVERY!” You shout at the top of your lungs. “Nikki is on your team, you don’t have to freeze! And Nikki, don’t tag your teammates! Ugh!” You should rather loudly. You shake your head and continue watching your team. You notice Hoseok talking to the LCT and she jots down something on her obnoxiously decorated clipboard.

She looks up from her notes and over at you, giving you a little nod. She walks away, clipboard in hand and you have a feeling she’ll be observing your activities a little more closely. Hoseok turns his attention back to the game.

His team is doing well, only a few of them seem to be frozen and the rest are still zooming around the field. Your team, however, is not following your advice. They’re too worried about being tagged to find teammates to unfreeze.

“Jessica, can you please go unfreeze some of your teammates?” You say as Jessica runs by your post. She stops and turns back to you.

“What did you say?” She asks.

“I said go unfreeze your teammates! Wait, look out!” Just as you’re explaining yourself, a Team Three camper comes up behind Jessica and freezes her. You let out a sigh. “That’s alright Jessica.”

“It’s just a game! Hopefully someone will come by and freeze you!” Mack jogs up to where you and Jessica are standing. “It’s just a game.” He says again, directly to you this time. He’s annoyed.

“I know you’re right, I just want to win.” You sigh.

“Well we have already lost. All of our campers are frozen.” Mack replies.

“WHAT!” You screech. Mack puts a firm hand on your shoulder as a reminder of his earlier words. You try to take a deep breath and you search the field to find Hoseok. He’s looking back at you, a smug grin on his face.

~~~~~~~

Flag Football

The rules of traditional American football have always gone over your head. The flag version of the game is a little more simple, but you still opt to let Hoseok explain the game to both teams. You’re listening intently to his explanation, and he’s doing an annoyingly good job of putting it in terms that the kids (and you) can understand.

Once his explanation is completed, all four team leaders help the campers put on their flag belts. They could probably do it themselves, but everyone wants to make sure that the belts are as secure as possible.

“Huddle up!” Mack calls to your team and everyone forms a circle around him as he doles out assignments for offensive players and defensive players. He was very insistent on doing this part himself. Perhaps it’s because he’s a football buff, but it seems more likely that he wants to evenly spread the assignments and doesn’t trust you to do it.

Mack has been taking more of a leadership role on the team because he thinks you are compromising the team due to your own selfish desire to win. It’s hard to admit, but you know he’s right to some degree.

The teams are lined up across the field from each other, Team One starting with the ball. Your team’s defensive line up is good. Yeonjun blows his whistle and the game begins. Bodies are running all around the field, every which way.

The kids are just aiming to grab flags, they aren’t being strategic at all. They are snapping flags left and right and before Team One can get their ball very far, more than half the field has been de-flagged.

“Wow, their lack of strategy is actually working for them this time.” You laugh.

“Yeah, it’s amazing what happens when you let kids be kids.” Mack chides.

You sulk away from him and walk down to the other end of the field to get some distance. From here, you’ve got a great view of Hoseok. Always wearing his bucket hat.

Suddenly, the whistle blows loudly and Hoseok sprints to the middle of the field where you notice that one of his kids is down. He’s clutching his knee and holding back tears. Hoseok runs to the child and takes a look at the injury.

It can’t be more than a scratch, but Hoseok scoops the camper up in his arms and walks him off the field. He comes to the Team Two side, simply because it’s the fastest way to get off the field.

“Do you want me to take you to the nurse to get a band aid or an ice pack?” He asks as he sets down the camper.

“No, I think I’m okay. Can I just sit out for now?” The camper replies.

“Of course you can, I’ll sit over here with you until it’s time to get ready for dinner.” Hoseok pats the camper’s back.  

Mack walks over to see how things are going and chats with Hoseok for a moment. He gives you a look.

“Are you taking notes?” He asks you loudly, in front of Hoseok and everyone. If you could give him the middle finger, you would.

~~~~~~~

The Obstacle Course

The heat between Team One and Team Two has hit an all time high. Earlier this week, your team scored bonus points by staying in the Mess Hall after dinner to scrub the tables after a particularly messy spaghetti night. But after hearing about this, Hoseok decided his team would take some of their free time to tidy up and organize the equipment storage room. This earned Team One even more points.

You’re determined to take him down at today’s obstacle course. It’s already been set up by Seokjin when the teams arrive. The LCT is here to observe the event.

There are different obstacle courses almost every week. This week, it’s your turn to demonstrate the steps for the kids. Crab walk here, hula hoop, hop on one leg, weave, run, skip, and sprint back to the start.

Once the demonstration has been completed, and you are thoroughly sweaty, Hoseok announces that he will flip a coin to see who gets to start off on the practice round.

“Heads, Team One, tails, Team Two!” You yell over at Hoseok and the LCT who are searching for a coin. She has one in her pocket and she flips the coin. Come on tails!

“Going first is... Team Two!” The LCT says, and you cheer. You always like having the edge and going first, even if it is just a practice round for now.

“Alright, Team Two, in a line!” You shout, leading the campers to the starting point. You decide to go through it again, showing them how it’s done one more time. Leading by example, pointing on the tricky parts as you go.

Hoseok is watching you closely. He’s learning too. When it’s his team’s turn to do a practice run of the course, he stands to the side and let’s them run it themselves. He points out the hard parts and cheers them on as they go. It’s frustrating how natural he is at these things.

Hoseok’s team lines back up, going first for the timed speed round. You feel nervous, you know they got through faster than your team, some of them are tired out now, so it will come down to can your campers pull this off and win?

“Alright, Team One, let’s go!” Hoseok cheers and his kids cheer back, letting him know they’re ready. “LCT - you’ve got the stopwatch!” He looks over at the LCT who is either doodling or jotting down notes on her colorful clipboard.

“Oh!” She says, grabbing her phone in her pocket. “Is this Grease? Do I wave a flag?”

“Just count down and say go.” You respond, rolling your eyes at her reference.

“On your mark, get set, go!” She yells.

Hoseok’s team gets off to a good start, but they have a few fumbles. Someone trips and another is painfully bad at hula hooping. It takes everything in you not to do a happy dance when one of Team One’s campers stops in the middle of his turn to slowly tie his shoe back up.

When it’s time again for your team’s turn, they all line up at the front. You and Mack cheer for them to get them hyped up, and now all you can do is hope for the best.

So far, not bad. They are all doing their best and that is surprisingly good. By your own mental clock, they are not far behind Hoseok. After Nikki finishes, Matthew will be up next, and of course you’re a little nervous. He’s notoriously clumsy, but he’s done fairly well this summer. Jessica is behind him and she will likely make up for any time he loses.

Matthew starts off strong with the crab walk, but anything that takes place on two feet slows him down a bit. The backwards running, though, is what takes him down. He trips and lands on his back on the grass.

“Get up!” You shout, trying your very best to sound encouraging. Get up! Keep going, come on! Just a step further! You can do it Matthew, come on!” By the time you finish your encouragement, it’s turned to full blown yelling. But Matthew is refusing to get up and he’s started crying.

You turn away for a moment, rubbing your eyes in frustration. At Matthew and at yourself.

“You can’t yell at a kid!” Hoseok snaps at you as he runs over to Matthew to comfort him. All of your team has huddle around him on the ground by the time you walk over.

“I didn’t! I thought he could have still gotten up!” You reply defensively.

“You yelled at him!” Hoseok reiterates.

“You yelled too!”

“I did not!” Hoseok replies, defending himself against your claim.

“You did! You’re the reason why we’re -”

“Leaders!” The LCT shouts from her post about ten feet away. You’re in trouble now.

“Yeah?” You ask, already tucking your tail between your legs.

“What’s up?” Hoseok asks.

“During your breaks, I will see you both in my office. Do not go to your cabins, do not hop to the Mess Hall for snack, do not stop and talk to anyone unless they are Seokjin or Namjoon, do you understand?” She is breathing fire. Scolding you in front of your campers. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t say you don’t deserve it.

Hoseok agrees and you can barely get a word out, so you just nod and mutter an agreement. The LCT instructs you to get back to the campers. Mack has already started walking Matthew to the infirmary.

Your campers look concerned, so you offer them a heartfelt apology. Hoseok suggests that everyone lines up together, both teams, and does one last run through the obstacle course for fun. You agree.

~~~~~~~

The Meeting

You know you deserve to be here at this meeting. Standing outside the office, you have a hard time taking any further steps. You don’t know what fate awaits you behind that door and you are not looking forward to finding out. Especially with Hoseok sitting next to you.

“Hey.” You jump. It’s Hoseok. “We should go in.” He says.

You take a deep breath and turn to look at him. Your competitor, your enemy, and previously your lover. His eyes are soft. He doesn’t look angry, just tired. He reaches past you and opens the door to the LCT’s office and let’s you step in first.

“Sit.” She says before you even have a moment to take in your surroundings. You’ve never been in this office before. You and Hoseok both slide into the chairs in front of the desk. She pauses for a moment and you look around the room. It’s just an office with supplies and paperwork. The only thing in the office that has any personality is the clipboards hanging on the wall behind her. A collection of decorated and personalized clipboards. How nerdy.

“Let’s talk about what hap -” The LCT starts.

“I just want to say that - that I didn’t mean to yell at him, and that I’m -” You cut her off, wanting to get ahead of the scolding. You know you’re in the wrong here.

“Do you plan on interrupting me this entire time?” She snaps at you, and you sit back in your chair, a little caught off guard.

“I’m sorry, I just, I made a mistake and I’m sorry.” You try again.

“Sorry for interrupting me or sorry for your behavior on the field?” She interrogates you.

“Both?” You reply, a little dumbfounded by her attitude. “I was just -”

“I don’t care what you were ‘just.’” She stops you again. You know you deserve punishment, but who pissed in her fruit salad? “What I witnessed today on the field was completely unacceptable. There is no situation, no occasion at Camp Blue Side where how you two interacted and treated your campers is acceptable. You are so lucky I was the one who witnessed it, instead of Seokjin or Namjoon.”

Hoseok is fidgeting next to you, but you’re paralyzed. You’ve never been spoken to like this from someone you considered a peer. And she’s wrong, if Seokjin had seen it, he would’ve been on your side.

“You are also so unbelievably lucky that your camper isn’t too scarred from your blatant disregard for his wellbeing. You must’ve been graced by the gods today, that all he suffered was a bump on his head and a scratched arm, because if it had been worse, a concussion, a broken bone, a skull fracture, there could’ve been legal ramifications.” She pauses and sighs before continuing. “I cannot believe that either of you have worked yourselves up to such a high level of competition and competitiveness that this was the result.”

“I didn’t mean to yell.” You whimper.

“We’re sorry it got out of hand.” Hoseok sighs.

“I feel awful.” You add.

“We were too into it.” Hoseok sighs, shaking his head.

“I don’t care what you were. That’s the inherent problem with you two, and I knew, I knew this was a possibility of having you on opposing teams, but I hoped it wouldn’t happen. I hoped you would be mature enough to handle this.”

“Hoped?” Hoseok questions.

“Yes, because clearly not only was I wrong, but Seokjin and Namjoon too. I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, if it’s just tension, or some sexual repression, but what happened on that field is not Camp Blue Side.” Her words send a chill down your spine and a blush across your cheeks. How could she say that in front of him?

“You both have been here long enough to know what’s acceptable Camp behavior and what isn’t. I never thought I’d have to have this conversation with you, but this summer is full of nasty surprises. Do better, both of you. Now, get out.”

You and Hoseok waste no time in exiting that office and shutting the door behind you. All you want to do is run back to your cabin and bury your face in the pillow. But you know you owe Hoseok an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

“You better fucking be sorry.” Hoseok replies, bitterness coating his tongue. “And that will never happen again.” He adds before walking away.

It’s a slap in the face on top of a punch to the gut. You are guilty, there is no denying that, but you aren’t the only one. How dare he act like he didn’t start this whole thing. He ghosted you. All he had to do was say “Hey, sorry, I'm actually not interested.” But he didn’t even have the balls to do that.

You have to tone down the competitiveness, but this is certainly not over.

~~~~~~~