#emergency goalie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlightkun · 11 months ago

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➠ word count: 21.3k ➠ warnings: cursing, once again everything i know about hockey is from the internet and only for this fic i’m sorry, a couple different blood/injury mentions, needle/injection mention and descriptions, mentions of other medical testing/settings, just chronically ill girlie things 🤪 ➠ genre: fluff, sooo much fluff they’re sooo in love tbh, a bit of hurt/comfort sprinkled in, established relationship, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), christmas-y for a couple scenes in the middle, sequel to buzzer beater ➠ extra info: this is the sequel to buzzer beater, which you should definitely read before this one so you know what’s going on! the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i’m sooo down astronomically bad for hockey player sungchan and i hope you all are too bc take a look at that word count lol. anyway have fun!! ➠ series masterlist | spotify playlist

You felt more giggle than human at this point, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his collar to hide it from him and get a moment to recover your aching smile muscles. He hugged you even tighter to him, resting his chin on your head.

i. i will give you my palm to help you walk through the hurtful, want to give you that calm that you have so long searched for

[sicheng: come get your mans]

The random text from Sicheng made you shoot up on your couch. Hockey practice was happening right now, you were expecting Sungchan to come over to your place after—and also to not be getting texts from anybody on the team at the moment.

[you: hello? what?]

[sicheng: no seriously come pick him up he took a puck to the face]

You rushed through the automatic doors into the rink, looking around for any sign of paramedics or— The rest of the team was still practicing, and there was no obvious bright red blood on the ice, that was a good sign, at least. Nobody on the ice seemed to have even noticed your entrance. Okay, so maybe not a huge emergency then.

Taking a couple steps down the hallway that led into the locker room, you called out, “Sungchan? Sicheng?”

“Yeah! In here!” Sicheng replied. “You can come in!”

Throwing the door open, you immediately saw the goalie standing over Sungchan, who was sat on one of the benches, holding a rag up to his face. The white towel was blotted with crimson blood, and you gasped.

“Sungchan!” You darted towards them.

Sungchan lowered his hand, and you could finally see some of the damage. The blood was streaming down from a gash on the right side of his forehead, by his hairline.

No black eyes, though.

He gave you a wincing smile, and you thankfully saw all of his teeth still there. “Y/N, hey...”

You looked down at him incredulously, “How did you even—”

“I’m okay, baby,” he reassured you, reaching out with his free hand to squeeze your forearm.

“That’s not what I said. Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a helmet and visor out there? How did you get a puck to your bare forehead?”

“I’ll leave him to you,” Sicheng declared, backing away from you two. “I’ve got to get back to practice.”

“I wasn’t on the ice,” Sungchan explained. “I was talking to Sicheng by the gate. Rogue puck, he ducked in time, I didn’t.”

You knew whereabouts on the rink he was talking about. The school’s rink was also used for ice skating for some extra money, and had a separate entrance onto the ice for those patrons aside from the entrance from the players’ benches. Since he wasn’t anywhere on the ice, Sungchan must’ve felt comfortable taking his helmet off.

“And you didn’t have your helmet on.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Open gate, no helmet, rogue puck to the face,” you summarized, taking the towel from his hand to wipe up a drop of blood that had been inching down his temple while you two spoke. It at least wasn’t bleeding as profusely as before, the blood starting to coagulate.

“Really, isn’t it Sicheng’s fault? For ducking? He had a helmet on, he would’ve been fine if it hit him.”

“Mm, of course. Blame the guy with better reflexes than you.” You tossed the rag into the team laundry basket in the corner. “Alright, get changed, I’m taking you home.”

“Okay,” he agreed with a great sigh, bending over to untie his skates, then immediately sat back up. “Woah…”

As Sungchan blinked quickly to get reoriented, you dropped to one knee in front of him to start undoing his laces. “Lightheaded?”

“A bit…”

“I don’t know if I should be hoping for blood loss or concussion.”

After you’d gotten his skates off him, he was able to change out of his uniform and into casual clothes on his own. Slinging his practice bag over your shoulder, you handed his gear bag to him, knowing that you wouldn’t quite be able to manage that yourself. Without even waiting for him, you grabbed his arm to wrap it around your shoulders and snaked yours around his waist, the memory of him getting lightheaded replaying in your mind.

As the two of you left the cold rink into the equally cold December air, you kept an eye on Sungchan for any signs of him needing medical attention beyond your capabilities. Aside from the injury itself, he seemed fine, just with a slightly jutted-out bottom lip as he kept his eyes trained on the ground in front of his feet.

“What’s the pouty face for?” You asked.

“I’m not pouting.” Sungchan resisted.

“Yes you are. You look like a 186-centimeter baby. What’s wrong? Other than your acute case of puck face.”

The pout become even more prominent as he mumbled, “It’s like you’re not even worried about me...”

“Ah, of course I’m worried about my Sungchannie,” you promised, pulling him even closer with the arm you had around his waist. You moved it up to rub his back as you leaned your head against him affectionately. “I’m just so used to seeing guys get their teeth knocked out and their noses broken at your games that when Sicheng said you got a puck to the face, that’s what I was expecting to see. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t care. I was just relieved, is all.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded firmly. “Besides, I’m clearly worried enough to take you home and patch you up myself.”

“You are?” He asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah, I’ve got this first aid kit that’s about as big as you are. You’re going to be good as new, baby boy.”

His face finally cracked into a smile. “Why do you have a first aid kit that big?”

“It was the only one at the store that came with alcohol wipes. I need them for my monthly injection, to disinfect the injection site.”

“Right.” He squeezed your upper arm. “Of course, the girl that has to have an entire pharmacy in her kitchen.”

You nudged him with your shoulder teasingly, “And my Sungchannie, who has to take hockey pucks to the face.”

Once the two of you had arrived at your apartment, you immediately pointed to your couch. “Sit.”

Sungchan obeyed easily, plopping down without another word. He took off a couple layers now that you weren’t in the biting winter cold, setting them on the cushion beside him as you bustled over to your kitchen.

“My head hurts,” he announced, sounding downright pitiful.

“Really? Your head hurts?” You pouted at him, getting on your tiptoes to pull down your massive first aid kit from your cabinet.

“Uh-huh.”

“Aw, my poor Sungchannie,” you cooed, setting the huge first aid kit down on the coffee table and popping it open.

The apartment heating had kicked on, so you finally took off your heavy parka and overcoat as well, leaving you just in the base lounge clothes you’d been in before you’d hurried to get dressed with the urgent texts from Sicheng.

First, you tipped a couple of over-the-counter painkillers into his waiting hand, and he knocked them back with a sip from his water bottle.

Grabbing a couple alcohol swabs and boxes of bandages, you asked, “Okay, Hello Kitty, spaceships, or Pokémon?”

“Mm… What kind of Pokémon?”

“First gen. I think it’s mostly Gengars and Psyducks left in there.”

“A Gengar please,” he requested sweetly.

You fished a bandage out, pre-ripping the end of the packaging before setting it on the arm of the couch. Standing in between Sungchan’s legs as he was reclined back on your couch, you leaned over him, very gingerly brushing his hair back from his forehead so you could see the injury better. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped between the rink and your place, all clotted blood and the start of scabs. Less thankfully for him, you were about to sanitize all of that. Gently turning his head so you could get better light, you tore open the first alcohol wipe and lightly touched it to the very edge of where you thought the wound started. Sungchan’s forehead wrinkled, but he didn’t make a sound. You continued at your task for another second before he finally spoke up.

“Y/N.”

“Sorry, I know it stings, but I’m almost done.” You promised. “I’d go faster but the lighting isn’t great in here, and some of it goes into your hair.”

“Don’t you think you’d be able to see better…” A pair of hands grabbed your hips, encouraging you closer, closer, down, down, until you were straddling Sungchan's lap, a knee on either side of him. “Like this?”

You were about to make a retort, except this tragically did get your own head out of the way enough to stop casting a shadow where you needed. So instead, you looked down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“How injured are you, really?” You questioned, pink-tinged alcohol wipe still in hand.

“So injured,” he fake-whined, settling his hands on your thighs.

“I’m sure.” But you made no move to leave, instead leaning in and getting back to work cleaning up the area.

Sungchan provided no more obvious distraction to you as you did so, seeming content to just smooth his thumbs over your clothed thighs and trace shapes there with his fingers. When you were finally able to see where the skin was split, you frowned, using your fingers to part his hair and inspect how far back it went.

“How long do I have, Doc?” He joked.

“You’ll live, but the bandages aren’t going to help the part that’s in your hair,” you forewarned. “That means be gentle when shampooing while its healing.”

“Sounds complicated. What if I mess it up? I think you should do it for me,” he suggested with a smirk, fingertips playing with the hem of your sweatshirt— well, really it was his sweatshirt, but he’d forfeited it to you some time ago.

“Is there something about getting injured that just turns you into a horndog?” You scoffed. For emphasis, you pinched the sliver of skin on his stomach that was exposed where his own t-shirt had ridden up above the hem of his pants and boxers.

He sat up then, forcing you to lean back to avoid smacking faces, but he just chased you forward until you were nearly nose-to-nose.

“No, there’s something about you being so worried and taking such good care of me that makes me want to show you how much I adore… you… back...” He punctuated the last three words with kisses that went up your neck to your jaw.

You looked up at the ceiling, as if pretending to consider this reason. But the happy smile that was working its way across your lips clearly gave away the fact that your mind was already made up. You snaked a hand between the two of you to push him back against the couch by the chest and hold him there.

“Alright, but at least let me put this Gengar bandage on you first, hm?”

ii. you are so beautifully, so brutally out of comprehension, and how lonely i was in the before and after

With a sigh, you rolled over in bed and checked the time. One hour until Sungchan was supposed to pick you up. It felt like somebody was slowly squeezing your head in some kind of medieval torture machine. There was no way this migraine was going away before your date. When it’d come on within thirty minutes of you waking up, you were hopeful that it’d pass and you could still make it, but clearly you had no such luck.

You sullenly drafted your text to him.

[you: hey, channie, im really sorry about this. i know we were supposed to go skating this afternoon but i’ve got a migraine, so i have to cancel]

Of all the dates that you had to flake out on. Sungchan had been really excited to take you to the rink during one of their open skate times, to share something he loved with you, and you were looking forward to it too. While you weren’t the best at ice skating, you were going to have the captain of the hockey team with you, so you hadn’t been too terribly concerned about your safety. The way his eyes had lit up when you said yes in the first place. God... you felt awful. In the back of your mind, you knew that you were just going to reschedule but still, it just made your head hurt worse to think about.

Ten minutes later, and he had texted back.

[channie: do you want some company?]

[you: ah, you really don’t have to. i’m sure you’ve got other things you need to do]

[channie: 1. i already cleared out my day for you 2. i want to be there with you and 3. i’m already outside]

You smiled at the harsh, painful light of your phone screen, reading the third bulletpoint over again as you typed your response.

[you: spare key under the fucked up looking gnome]

The door to your bedroom was slowly opened just a few moments later, and you wordlessly rolled over in bed to make room for Sungchan to slip under your blankets with you. You rolled back over practically on top of him and buried your face in his chest, happy to have something else to block out the light aside from your blackout curtains. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair. The corners of your mouth quirked up fondly.

“Hey...” You mumbled a greeting.

“Hey,” he murmured. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as the one from Halloween,” you reassured him, throwing an arm around his waist. “No lobotomizing or anything. Just... hurts.”

“That’s... good, I guess.”

“You put my key back under the gnome? Or did you bring it in?”

“Put it back. Also why do you have that fucked up looking gnome?”

“I saw him on clearance and he was just so horrible, I had to have him. So now I hide my spare key under him.”

You didn’t know if Sungchan had found your answer satisfactory, or just decided to leave the topic be for your migraine’s sake, but he said nothing more. His arms shifted a bit tighter around you, and you could sense his sour mood without even needing to see his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“My Sungchannie…” You said in a hushed, teasing sing-song tone. “You make a terrible cuddle buddy when you’re this tense.” You poked his stomach for emphasis, which was solid as a brick wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He readjusted again, and you did feel his muscles relax a little under you. “You’ve got a migraine, you shouldn’t be asking me what’s wrong.”

“Well, we already know what’s wrong with me. So, what’s wrong with you?”

He let out a deep sigh. “It’s weird. When one of the guys gets hurt on the ice, I can see where they’re hurt and either slap a bandage on them myself or take them to someone who can. But when you’re hurting, my girl... I can’t do any of those things. I hate it.”

“Just you being here makes me feel better, Channie.” You squinted one eye open so you could reach a hand up to gently stroke his cheek. “I promise.”

“If you say so.”

Despite his melancholy words, he turned his head quickly to give a fleeting smooch to the tip of your thumb before you dropped it back down to lay the hand flat on his chest.

“And... ‘your girl?’” You asked slyly, wishing that there wasn’t a thick hoodie between his bare chest and your hand in that moment, as you were sure you would’ve been able to feel his heartbeat jump under your fingertips.

His eyes widened minutely as his head tilted in confusion. “Are-Are you not?”

“No, I am. Definitely.” You contentedly squished your cheek against his front.

“And I’m your guy. Right?”

“As if that could even be a question,” you giggled, the words punctuated by a yawn. “Yes.”

“Good,” he breathed out in relief, and you finally felt him truly relax underneath you. “Uhm, I’m keeping you up, sorry. You should go to sleep.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “My sleepy girl.”

“Mm, okay. Goodnight,” you mumbled, rolling over in his arms and letting your thoughts fully drift away.

“Love you...”

Sungchan continued staring down at you as your breathing evened out. The words seemed to have come out of your mouth as naturally as your breaths, and he fought back the urge to shake you awake again so he could say them back to you. Instead, he brushed your hair away from your face, planting a couple gentle kisses on your temple before scooting into his spot as big spoon for today and settling in for the duration of your sleep.

“I love you too,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, letting his own eyes close as he replayed the memory of you saying it first.

You woke up not even knowing your own name.

After taking a few seconds to properly come to and get reoriented from your migraine nap, you turned to your other side, immediately greeted by Jung Sungchan with such a tender look on his face that you had the breath knocked out of you.

Finally, you coughed out, “Hi...”

“Hey,” he smiled softly. “Sleep good?”

“Mhm... What time is it? How long did I sleep?”

“A few hours, it’s almost eight.”

“Cool, there goes my non-existent sleep schedule.”

He laughed quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I mean, blegh, but no migraine. Just... eugh.”

“The way you classify feeling good and bad fascinates me,” he commented.

You shuffled onto your back, staring up at your ceiling. “It’s all relative. One of my good days looks different from another chronically ill person’s good days. Same with my bad days. And no two abled people’s good and bad days look the same either. I mean, before I had migraines, I wasn’t out there being a hockey superstar like you. So yeah, right now I feel blegh and eugh, but in comparison to before my nap, that’s pretty good.”

“Huh.” Sungchan flopped onto his back too. “I mean, I guess I kind of knew that but... never really thought it through like that.”

“It’s a working theory,” you shrugged. “I’ve only been like this for... a little less than four years? And I’ll have these for, you know, the rest of my life. So, I’ll continue to refine it as time goes on.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“What?”

“You’re really going to have migraines for the rest of your life?”

“Yeah. Unless some miracle cure is discovered in my lifetime. It’s a lifelong condition.”

“That’s… damn.”

You let out a chuckle. “It took a while for it to sink in for me, too. When my neurologist mentioned it at my first appointment, it was like, whatever, but now four years later… yeah, it’s really starting to sink in that this is my life.”

“Woah…”

“Anyway, I’m sorry again about ice skating. I know you were really excited for it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll go another day,” he promised. “Thank you for letting me be here, with you.”

You pushed yourself up to sit cross-legged, and put your hand over his that he’d been resting on his chest. “Thank you for coming, Sungchan.”

His face scrunched up. “What’s with calling me that? Am I in trouble?”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys…”

“One of what guys?”

“As soon as they get a nickname or a term of endearment they won’t answer to their government name anymore.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… it feels like I’m in trouble. Like, am I not your Sungchannie anymore? Am I not baby or baby boy to you anymore? I’m no longer Channie?”

“You’re not in trouble,” you told him, slotting your fingers with his. “But… as a literary student, I understand the importance of diction and the symbolism of names.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded firmly.

You snickered, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for being here with me, my Sungchannie.”

He caught the back of your head with his other hand before you could sit up all the way, guiding your lips down to his. It was a sweet, lingering kiss, which neither of you moved to deepen nor rush. When his hand fell from your hair, you straightened back up, smiling down at him fondly.

“Well, are you ready for dinner?” You asked. “I was thinking frozen pizza and very quiet movies. Unless you can’t stay the night.”

“No, I can stay.” He nodded, propping himself up on his elbows. “That sounds great. Whatever you want.”

“Perfect.”

You climbed out of bed, taking a second to get to your feet before heading for your bedroom door. Sungchan was still under the covers, though, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. You stopped at the threshold of the door, turning around to look at him.

“Channie?”

“Hm?”

“By the way…” You paused, letting silence descend for a couple seconds as he patiently waited for you to finish. “I love you.”

You immediately darted away towards your kitchen, laughing as you heard him scrambling to get out of bed and chase after you.

“Hey, come back!” He cried out, and you swore you heard the thud of an elbow or a knee bumping into a piece of furniture or a doorframe. “I need to say it back to you! Baby!”

You couldn’t run very far, sliding across your kitchen tile on your socks before skidding to a stop in front of your fridge. Sungchan came barreling around the corner right after you, wild-eyed, clutching his elbow and out of breath.

“No fair…” he whined. “You got a head start and I hit my funny bone on your door.”

“Your legs are like twice as long as mine!” You pointed out. “I think that’s just equity.”

“And my funny bone?”

“I’m sorry about your funny bone, baby boy. Want me to kiss it better?”

“In a second.”

“Alright,” you giggled, waiting patiently for him to finish his point.

“You know what’s not equitable?” He asked with his hands on his hips, slowly advancing towards you.

“Aside from you busting your funny bone on my door?”

He’d gotten you in arm’s reach, seizing you by the waist to pull you into his chest again. “You saying it to me twice now without giving me an opportunity to say it back.”

You laughed and wriggled around in his grasp as he held steadfast to you.

“So not fair!” Sungchan complained teasingly, showering your forehead, nose, and cheeks in kisses.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not an athlete, you don’t play fair,” he chastised you. “Being so unbelievably cute while I’m trying to prove a point here.”

With another loud smooch to the top of your head, Sungchan let you go, removing you from him and holding you at arm’s length by the shoulders. You raised your eyebrows as you eyed the several kitchen tiles of space between the two of you.

“Very romantic, Channie.”

“Ahh, well I can’t think when you’re so close to me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. However you need to.”

“No, you’re right, come back here.” He pulled you flush to his front again, cupping your cheeks to tilt your face up to look at him.

You looped your arms around his waist, offering him a sweet smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he echoed, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones. Sungchan looked over your features fondly, his lips twitching as he was clearly trying and failing to suppress a giddy grin. “I love you. I love you. And, I love you.”

You chuckled at him having to say it the third time, as your whole body buzzed with joy. Yeah, your insides were never going to un-mush at this rate. They’d been long gone since your first date.

“I love you too, my Sungchannie.” You gave him a gentle kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

iii. i hear the secret whisperings of the world in the curves of all your bursts of laughter

Sitting in a stadium seat at the ice rink one afternoon, you watched the team’s practice as you waited for your boyfriend. Well, half-watching the practice. Now that the semester was over, you wanted to catch up on your personal reading list with the free time.

A sudden bang on the barrier in front of you made you startle and look up from your book. It surprisingly wasn’t Sungchan, but two other players—23 and 24.

You slowly waved at Jeno and Yangyang before turning your eyes back down to your reading. That just started up more fervent banging on the plastic and indistinct shouting from them.

“Oh my God! What?” You yelled back, tucking your bookmark into the pages.

Their words were indistinguishable though, because of the barrier, distance, and the fact that they were talking over each other.

“Hold on!” You huffed. Standing up and picking your way down through the rows until you were directly in front of them, you asked, “Okay, what? One at a time.”

“Are you coming to movie night tonight—” Jeno started.

“—at the Puck Pad?” Yangyang finished.

Your brow furrowed as you stared at their shining eyes as if they had just said a normal thing to you. “I’m sorry, the what?”

“Movie night?” Jeno repeated.

“You seriously think that’s what I’m confused about? I know what a fucking movie night is, Jeno,” you rolled your eyes. “What the hell is the ‘Puck Pad?’”

The two of them exchanged a look before Yangyang spoke up, “Where your boyfriend lives? The house that me, Sungchan, Ten, and Sicheng all rent.”

“The team is having a movie night there tonight!” Jeno reiterated. “We were just wondering if you were coming too.”

You blinked at them. “I’ve never heard Sungchan, Sicheng, nor Ten call the house that. Are you sure it’s not just you, Yangyang?”

Yangyang ignored your question with one of his own, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, Sungchan mentioned some movies at his place tonight. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome!” They said in unison.

“So… the Puck Pad?” You asked abruptly as Sungchan came out of the locker room, your arms crossed and head tilted.

His elated smile dropped off his face as a bewildered look of confusion took over, and his arms fell down to his sides from where he’d been holding them out for a hug. “What…? Who told you about that?”

“So you do call your house that?”

“Look, we joked about that like once or twice when we moved in last year. It’s not like there’s a sign up or anything.”

“And you didn’t want to tell me about this because…?”

“It’s lame and makes us sound like a bunch of losers.”

“But you are.”

“Unh!” He held a fist over his chest as if he were grabbing some invisible weapon that he’d just been stabbed with. Clutching onto your shoulder with his other hand, he slowly started leaning more and more of his weight onto you as he made more fake noises of pain. “Oof! Oh God… Oh, that hurt, Y/N… My own girl… Ugh… Agh…”

Giggling, you had to change your stance to keep the both of you up as he was fully slumped against you. You let out a grunt of exertion as you readjusted to push on his chest and prop him back up into a somewhat standing position.

“Channie, get up!” You complained as he just flopped back over on you, bringing another bout of laughter from you as you struggled to keep the both of you up. “Channie! Seriously, you’re such a baby! Just a big loser baby!”

“Yeah, but I’m your big loser baby, right?” He teased, supporting just enough of his weight to be able to look you in the face as he pouted at you pointedly.

You pinched his bottom lip just a bit meanly. “Yeah, and you’d better not forget it. Now can we go? You do know that the team has been staring like the whole time waiting for us, right?”

The guys were all crowded up by the automatic doors in a huddle, in various stages of pretending not to watch and very obviously looking and snickering among themselves. Donghyuck and Yangyang were in the latter, the two underclassmen feeling rather brave tonight as Yangyang yelled out first.

“Come on, loser baby! We’re waiting!”

“Yang, it was big loser baby, actually,” Donghyuck corrected him facetiously.

“Right, of course,” Yangyang nodded seriously. “Come on, you big, stinking, whining loser baby!”

Sungchan straightened up, all humor drained from his features as he snapped his fingers and pointed at them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Are you ready to go, Channie?” Jeno joined in.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” The captain shot back, grabbing your hand as he started leading the way over.

“Seriously, guys,” you spoke up once you had joined the pack of hockey players heading out of the rink. “Don’t call him Channie, please.”

Sungchan’s house—The Puck Pad—was a close enough walk that on nights like this, where the team would hold movie nights or other team events after hockey practice, the players would all leave their cars at the house beforehand and walk over. So you all had a roughly twenty-minute walk back there now, a gaggle of hockey players, their practice bags, a couple gear bags, and you.

“Why not?” Donghyuck fake-whined.

“Well for one, he asked you not to. That should be enough,” you retorted. “And two, that’s my nickname for him. Come up with your own instead of stealing mine.”

“Since you asked so nicely, okay.”

“Thanks, Hyuck.”

A phone alarm suddenly went off just a moment later, and you calmly turned it off from your watch before rummaging through the tote bag on your shoulder.

“Evening?” Sungchan asked knowingly, watching as you tipped out one pill after another into your palm, then grabbed your water bottle.

“Mhm.” You confirmed before knocking them back in several rounds. The two of you were thankfully towards the back of the group, so they didn’t notice when you had to stop and start every time you had difficulty swallowing your sips of water.

When you closed up your tote bag, took his hand in yours, and continued down the sidewalk at a brisk pace intent on catching up with the others, a frown cut across Sungchan’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to take those with food?”

“Forgot to restock the go bag with snacks yesterday. I’ll live taking one dose without it,” you shrugged. “Besides, we’re going to be at your place soon anyway, I’ll eat there.”

Sungchan reached into his practice bag, fishing out a slightly misshapen protein bar, “Here. Sorry, it got a little crushed.”

“Oh, you don’t—”

He tore open the wrapper with his teeth, then pushed it into your hand that wasn’t holding his. “Y/N, eat it.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

At The Puck Pad—which you were learning, it turns out, the entire team calls the house when nobody else is around—you ended up being pretty glad for the protein bar Sungchan had given you on your way over. You only ate half of it before you got to the house, but the guys were so disorganized that it wasn’t until almost two hours after you’d arrived that everybody was finally settled in the living room with popcorn, candy, pizza, beer (soda and water for you), and a movie playing on the TV.

You and Sungchan had a plush, reclining armchair to yourselves, tucked cozily under a blanket. Sungchan had an arm around your waist holding you close to him as the other moved between his plate that was balanced on the armrest with a stack of pizza slices, and the small end table where your drinks sat. You were happily curled up into his side, head resting in the crook between his shoulder and his chest, and your legs in his lap as you propped your own plate up on your knees to eat from.

The guys had picked a horror movie first—one without jumpscares, as both you and Mark hated them. Blood, gore, body horror, or psychological thriller didn’t faze you, but under no circumstances could you handle jumpscares. Mark, on the other hand, didn’t care for horror movies in general and would only tolerate them if everybody else wanted to watch it. His hard line was jumpscares, though, which you two could agree on. So everybody had checked over multiple websites to be sure that this specific movie definitely didn’t have any jumpscares. Just lots of blood, as you were now finding out.

“Gross, dude…” Mark muttered under his breath from the couch. When you looked over at him, you could see his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the screen with a curled lip of disgust.

“Ugh, he had all those frogs inside him?” Yangyang pretended to gag, not looking away from the screen for a second.

“Good thing Hendery already went home for the holidays, huh?” Ten laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth from where his head was pillowed in Sicheng’s lap.

Chenle, who had also been invited, snorted with amusement. “Hendery would be climbing the fuckin’ walls right now.”

“I’m with Mark, this is fucking nasty.” You shook your head, turning to bury your face in Sungchan’s chest. “Let me know when there’s no more frogs doing gross stuff to people’s internal organs.”

“You can pick next, baby. Promise.” Sungchan wrapped two arms around you. He leaned in even closer to you to whisper, “Please pick something not scary.”

Once the horror movie was over, you proudly picked a Christmas rom-com, making sure to get one that had the perfect balance of a low critics’ score and high audience score on Rotten Tomatoes, was at least as old as you, had a low budget, and starred two famous actors that hadn’t gotten their big break as of filming.

When Jeno tried to grumble, you merely stuck your tongue out at him. “‘Tis the fucking season, Jeno!”

“Oh, fuck yeah! Christmas movie!” Yangyang cheered through a mouthful of pizza, walking back into the living room with a newly filled plate of slices. “Jeno, did we already have this one on our list?”

“List?” You asked with facetious innocence.

“Jeno and I marathon shitty Hallmark Christmas movies every year when we go to his parents’ place on break,” the junior explained, plopping down into his spot next to his friend. “He keeps the list in the notes on his phone, so I wanted to make sure he checked it off if we had it on there.”

While your immediate instinct had been to tease Jeno like the other guys were doing, something Yangyang said caught your attention instead.

“Wait, Yangyang, you go to Jeno’s parents’ place on break? You don’t go home?”

“My parents don’t live here. I’m originally from here, but we moved abroad when I was a kid. They still live there. The holiday break we get for hockey is too short to make it all the way out there.” He shrugged, taking another huge bite of pizza. “Jeno’s family is super cool. His mom about lost it when she heard that I’d be staying at school for the holidays my freshman year, insisted Jeno bring me home. So I go every year now.”

“And you two binge Hallmark movies together,” Chenle cooed, pinching their cheeks in unison. “The bestest of fwiends.”

Jeno shook his head and rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the bright grin on his face when Yangyang talked about staying with his family, or when he snuck his phone out to open the notes app and covertly check something off on a list that you couldn’t quite read from the other side of the room.

The movie ended up being actually a really good laugh. Both intentionally and unintentionally. Some of the jokes still held up after all these years, which surprised you, and also, the movie was just funny bad sometimes, which was even better. You found your cheeks hurting from how much you were laughing by the end of it, and surrounded by similar smiles on your friends’ faces. Which made it all the more enjoyable. The ending was the perfect amount of cheesy, sweet, funny, and satisfying, and felt like the perfect way to finish off your own night.

As the credits started rolling, still with a smile lingering on your lips, you turned to Sungchan, only to find him already gazing fondly at you.

“Oh. Hi…” You squeaked softly, completely caught off guard.

“Hi, baby,” he murmured back. “Good pick, by the way.”

“Not too scary, I hope.”

“Well, I had my girl there to protect me from that terrifying small-town baker and the down on his luck yet equally terrifying single dad, you know.”

The rest of the guys were having a debate about the next movie to watch—Pride and Prejudice (2005), Donghyuck’s idea vs. The Amazing Spider-Man (yes, Andrew Garfield), Mark’s idea. A debate that was expeditiously devolving into a very loud argument, so you weren’t particularly worried about them hearing the quiet, playful conversation that you and your boyfriend were having in the couple of inches of space between your heads.

“Always happy to protect my guy from the horrors of cheesy rom-coms,” you quipped back. “Anyway, I think I’m about done. Unless you want to watch whatever they end up picking?”

Sungchan shook his head minutely. “Apparently Hyuck’s been watching that movie like every day since this girl in his Brit Lit class rejected him like two weeks ago—”

“You need a better fucking coping mechanism than Keira Knightly, dude!” Mark’s exasperated voice rang through the living room.

“Would you rather I take up heroin, then?” Donghyuck screeched back.

“No! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The frat president groaned. “I meant like Tinder or something!”

“Oh, really great advice from my Big here! I should go get myself an STD or 7 because he doesn’t want to watch one movie with me!”

“It’s not one movie, this is the fifteenth time this month, Hyuck! And you know we have condoms in the house, man! Use them!”

“And that’s our cue,” Sungchan declared only to you, nudging you towards the front of the armchair.

You scooted off his lap, getting to your feet and stretching as your boyfriend spoke over the still-bickering Nu Chi brothers. “Alright guys, we’re done for the night. See you.”

A couple of the spectators gave you two ‘goodnight’s, but everyone else was still locked into Mark and Donghyuck squabbling match as the Little was now fake-sobbing into Sicheng’s arms about how his Big couldn’t care less about him and his safety and maybe he should go get every single sexually transmitted disease if it’ll make Mark’s life easier. Mark turned towards the closest wall and started banging his forehead against it as you and Sungchan headed up the stairs.

The Puck Pad was three floors and an attic. All of the shared family spaces were on the first floor: the kitchen, living room, dining room, laundry room, and a half bathroom; the second floor had two bedrooms and one bathroom, currently inhabited by Ten and Sicheng; and the third floor had two* more bedrooms and one and a half more bathrooms, occupied by Yangyang and Sungchan. Being the captain, when divvying up the rooms, the other three just kind of shrugged and gave Sungchan what was technically the master bedroom. It was at the end of the hallway, and while it wasn’t that much bigger than the rest of the bedrooms, it was the only one with an en suite bathroom. You would hesitantly call this a four bedroom house, as you were pretty sure that Yangyang’s room wasn’t actually supposed to be a bedroom. At least not when the house was built. The layout of the bathrooms had been your first clue, with there being just a half bath for him to use—he had to either go down one floor to use Ten and Sicheng’s shower or into Sungchan’s bedroom to use his shower—and the fact that the doors (yes, doors, plural, he had two doors to his very normal-sized bedroom, one of which was the actual entrance and exit from the hallway and the other, which was in an interior wall, could not be opened, despite having a handle and hinges) looked like they had been added decades after the frames had been built. You were stumped as to what the room could’ve originally been, but you were confident that it wasn’t a bedroom, at least. It was something that puzzled and mystified you every time you came over.

Donghyuck and Mark were either done with their spat, or the sounds of it couldn’t carry at the way up here. Either way, you were going to be well onto your way to dreamland soon as you settled down for the night with Sungchan, having done your nighttime routine, changed into your pajamas, and gleefully climbed under the covers.

“Are the other guys staying the night?” You asked Sungchan as he readjusted his pillow next to you to get comfy.

“Don’t know,” he said. “Usually they will if they drink a bit too much, or if they just don’t feel like going all the way home then having to come back this way for Saturday morning practice.”

You made a noncommittal noise, still ruminating over your half-idea in your own mind as you laid there with your eyes shut. The mattress and the sheets shifted beside you as Sungchan curled up behind you, resting a hand on your waist.

“Why are you asking?” He questioned curiously.

“Hyuck…” You sighed, placing your hand over his and slotting your fingers together. “Worried about him, is all.”

“It was some girl in his class that he’d talked to like once in the whole semester. He’ll be okay. Donghyuck’s just got to get the dramatics out of his system first.”

“Even so… Even if he’s just a bit bummed or whatever… Isn’t that what friends are for? To make you feel better when you’re bummed out?” You mused.

“Yeah, I guess so. That’s what Mark’s been trying to do, and he just ended up watching Pride and Prejudice fourteen times.”

You let out a soft burst of air, a quiet chuckle, at that. “Taking one—or, fifteen—for the team.”

Sungchan’s chest shook with a couple silent laughs.

“But really— Can you bring him back here after morning practice tomorrow? I want to take him out. Get his mind off it.”

“Yeah, sure. We can do something.”

“Ah, Channie, I was kind of thinking just me and Hyuck.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you guys pick on him.”

“He picks on us!”

“Baby?”

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “I’ll bring Donghyuck back after practice tomorrow for your little friend date.”

You turned your head to be able to press a fleeting peck to the tip of his nose. “Thank you, baby.”

“But I’m making you breakfast. You two will have to figure out something else.”

In the morning, you were faintly aware of an alarm going off early before it was quickly shut off and you rolled over in bed, burying your face in your pillow. Beyond your eyelids, it was still absolute darkness. You could feel the shifting of the mattress beside you and the press of a gentle kiss to your temple as you quickly sank under the calm waters of sleep once more.

You were half-awoken again some time later, a faint light streaming into your consciousness as the covers shifted once again, and a presence enveloped you from behind that hadn’t been there before. Letting out a peaceful sigh, you listened to the sounds of yours and Sungchan’s breathing as they eventually synced up, and you drifted back off without even realizing it.

Fluttering your eyes open, you groaned softly against the bright morning sunlight. After a couple seconds of squinting and blinking, your eyes had adjusted for the most part, and you rolled onto your other side. Sungchan smiled at you fondly as you rubbed at one of your eyes.

“You awake?” He asked quietly.

“Yep, ‘m up,” you offered a bleary thumbs up. “Just don’t make me solve any differential equations or whatever the fuck. Actually, don’t make me do that when I’m at full capacity either.”

He laughed softly, cradling the back of your head to pull you forward and press a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning, baby.”

“Mornin’ Channie,” you said back, punctuated by a yawn. “How was practice?”

“It was good. Donghyuck’s playing video games in the living room with Yangyang, by the way.”

“Good, good.”

“I think that was our smoothest Saturday morning yet. Were you able to go back to sleep okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t even remember waking up at all, really.”

“Success,” he grinned.

You momentarily closed your eyes again, enjoying the peaceful moment as you let your body slowly work towards fully waking up. Sungchan gently stroked the backs of his fingers up and down your arm, and you relaxed even further under his touch.

“I like waking up next to you,” he admitted softly. You squinted one eye back open to look at him as he continued. “Doing it twice in one morning… I think that’s the most I’ve ever loved somebody.”

Shooting up just to push him back against the mattress, you held him there by the shoulders, your grip so tight it probably would’ve hurt if he wasn’t already used to much worse on the ice. He looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Are you trying to kill me, Jung Sungchan?” You accused. “Saying stuff like that to me first thing in the morning, I could melt into a puddle and never re-form! My heart could explode!”

“You don’t think my heart feels like it’s going to explode when I wake up and see you next to me first thing in the morning?” He huffed back. “That just sounds like equity, baby.”

“You don’t know the meaning of that word.”

“Maybe so…”

With a final shake of your head, you let go of him and fell onto your back next to him. He propped himself up on an elbow on his side so he could see you, the beginnings of a pout on his face.

“And what’s that pout for?” You teased, already with a sneaking suspicion.

“Oh, nothing…” He picked up one of your hands, dropping a line of kisses to the back of it and up your wrist and lower arm.

“Okay,” you played along with a smile on your face. “Because I was just thinking that I’ve been awake for a whole five minutes with no good morning kiss. But if it’s nothing, then—”

You couldn’t even finish your sarcastic dramatics before Sungchan had captured your lips with his in a sweet but intense kiss that pressed your head back into the pillow just a little bit. Curling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt with your other hand, you pulled him even closer, wanting to just be able to melt into each other completely like it felt like your mouths were doing.

Another alarm suddenly went off in the bedroom, different from the one that had gone off in the wee hours of the morning, and you broke the kiss for just a second to snooze it on your smart watch.

“Oh! Your meds.” Sungchan immediately looked over towards his dresser where your go bag was sitting safely.

“I snoozed it; I’ll take them in a few minutes,” you reassured him, grabbing his face to pull his lips back to yours.

He indulged you for a few seconds until you reached a natural break for air, where he instead pecked your cheek before sitting back on his feet. “I’ll grab them for you, I don’t mind.”

With that, he clambered off the bed and over towards the dresser.

It was impossible to get mad at him though as he so eagerly went to help. You were instead filled with such an overwhelming fondness and joy, unable to do much but smile tenderly at him. “Oh, Channie… thank you.”

“Morning, morning, morning,” he muttered to himself as he rooted through your tote bag to pull out the various pill bottles. “That’s… half of this one, one of these, and… one of this? Oh, and you just added this one, too. And your blood pressure cuff.”

“A-plus, Nurse Jung.” You beamed up at him as you sat up in bed, getting in the correct position to take your vitals with the cuff.

He came over to you, dropping your meds in your waiting palm. You looked over the colorful pills momentarily, pleased to see that he’d gotten it exactly correct. After taking them with your water that was on his nightstand, you held out your hand for him to give you your cuff. But instead, he undid the Velcro and went to loop it around your wrist himself, brows furrowing as he concentrated on the task at hand.

“How’s that?” He asked once he had it secured.

“It’s a little too close to my hand, actually, but good first try.” You undid the band, scooting it to the proper position. “It should be a little further above my wrist bone.”

“Okay. Got it.”

The two of you were silent as you waited for your cuff to take your blood pressure and heartrate, the only sounds that of your breathing and the usual ones of the device in operation. After the final beep and deflation, you brought your wrist down from your chest to look at the screen.

“Is that good?” Sungchan asked, focused on the results as well.

“Well these are my pre-dose numbers. And they’re actually a little lower than normal,” you explained, typing them into your health record on your phone with your free hand. “Only by 10 points, but that means that depending on the post-dose I’ll probably just have to keep a closer eye on my numbers today.”

“So now we set a timer for 30 minutes.”

“Yep,” you did so with just a couple more taps on your phone. “And in the meantime, you make me breakfast like you promised.”

“On it.” He smooched your temple, his hands tentatively reaching towards your wrist. “Can I take your blood pressure cuff off you now?”

“Of course.”

He gently peeled off the strap with a rip of the Velcro, standing back up to put it away in its case. Holding the cuff in its hard carrying case in one hand, he offered his other out to you, and you gladly took it, getting it to your feet.

“Hold on a sec…” You muttered, squeezing your eyes shut as you got light-headed for a moment, bright lights flashing in your vision.

“I got you, baby,” Sungchan murmured, pressing his arm to yours and grabbing your other shoulder with his hand—he must have set your cuff down or put it in his pocket.

Once you felt stable on your own two feet again, which took just a few seconds, you blinked a couple times, then smiled up at him. “Okay, ready.”

Downstairs, you could hear video game sounds as you emerged into the kitchen, accompanied by the muffled shouting of three voices. Yangyang, Donghyuck, and that last one had to be Ten, it wasn’t nearly deep enough to be Sicheng. You sat up in the corner of their kitchen counter to watch Sungchan as he cooked, occasionally in the way, but he never asked you to move, and you never offered. It was a simple breakfast, but nothing could beat the proud, happy grin on his face as he held your plate out to you.

“It looks great,” you told him, patting his cheek. “Thank you, Channie.”

“Anything for my girl,” he replied, absolutely beaming as he leaned in to give you a soft kiss. You could feel the curl of his smile against your lips.

The two of you had just taken your first bites sat at the kitchen table when Yangyang and Donghyuck wandered in.

“Something smells good,” Yangyang announced, his eyes immediately landing on your food.

You protectively pulled your plate closer to yourself.

“There’s plenty left in the fridge to make your own,” Sungchan replied, pointing towards the kitchen.

Donghyuck plopped down in the seat directly next to the one that you and your boyfriend were jointly occupying—you were on Sungchan’s lap. The sophomore stared longingly at your breakfast.

“Didn’t you guys already eat?” You asked. “You had morning practice.”

“That was forever ago.”

“You’re not stealing my girlfriend’s food, you ungrateful little shits,” the captain glared at the both of them. “Go make your own if you’re so hungry.”

“First Mark wants me to get chlamydia, now you want me to starve,” Donghyuck bemoaned. “Will I ever have a good role model in my life?”

Sungchan fixed you with a pointed look, but you could only giggle at your friend’s dramatics.

“Daddy issues much, Hyuck?” You ruffled his hair, earning loud cackles from Yangyang, and distant laughter from Ten.

Donghyuck stared at you with a dropped jaw as you heard a couple dumbfounded sputters from Sungchan behind you. The younger player recovered quickly, though.

“What gave it away? My unhealthy attachment to older male friends that I see as reliable, or my ‘I Heart DILFs’ shirt?” He retorted sarcastically.

“You do wear that shirt a lot,” you jested back easily. He owned no such shirt to your knowledge.

“And here I thought I was being subtle.” He clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“As a trainwreck,” you nodded. “You and Yang either go get your own food or shut the fuck up, okay?”

Donghyuck stood up from his chair, giving you an overzealous salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yangyang went to follow his friend with a shake of his head. “Mommy issues much, bro?”

You couldn’t contain your laughs, tucking your face back into the crook of Sungchan’s neck to muffle them just a little bit. He wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you even closer to him. You kept laughing, even as he gently brushed his lips over the crinkles at the corner of your eye.

iv. because life is beautiful but life is work, so full of joy, so full of hurt

“So tell me about her,” you prompted Donghyuck as soon as the front door shut behind you two.

“What?”

“The girl that you like. Tell me about her.”

“Sungchan said you wanted to take me out to get my mind off it.” He regarded you suspiciously. “And everyone else is telling me I should just move on, stop moping and thinking about her all the time. Don’t know how talking about her more is really going to help that.”

“I heard that she was in one of your classes this semester and you two talked once. But if you’re this broken up about her… sounds like there’s more going on,” you shrugged. “If you want to tell me, I’m all ears. I know you feel like you have to ham it up for the guys all the time, make them laugh and stuff. But you don’t have to do that for me, okay? You don’t owe me entertainment in exchange for tolerating your presence or something. I’m hanging out with you right now because I want to.”

“I talked to her twice, actually. Not counting when she rejected me,” he began abruptly. “We were in the same Brit Lit class this semester, she sat in the seat in front of me. On the first day of class, she turned around to hand me the syllabus and accidentally bumped my water bottle. She smiled, apologized, and handed me the stack of papers and that was that. It’s so not me but I just, I couldn’t talk to her. It’s not just that she’s pretty—I mean she is, like the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen—but she’s so smart too. Whenever she’d answer one of the professor’s questions, she’d say something about the story that I would’ve never thought of in a million years. And like, the professor would be impressed too! But every single time I tried to hype myself up to say something, literally anything to her, I’d end up panicking and not doing it.”

“What was the other time? You said you talked to her twice, outside of when you asked her out. What was the other time, after the syllabus?”

He grimaced. “Ugh, right. I was walking across campus from the library to the parking garage one day. I was supposed to be meeting up with Mark at his car to hitch a ride back to the house. I had one of my sticks with me because I was taking it home to retape it, just sort of slung over my shoulders while I waited at the crosswalk. And it was dark, and I heard something behind me, whipped around to look, and ended up knocking her right in the eye with the butt of the stick.”

“Oh no,” you hissed sympathetically.

“I kept apologizing, but since I didn’t have my gear bag on me, just my bookbag and weapon, I didn’t have anything to patch her up with. She had some tissues in her bag thankfully… but I felt so horrible.”

“Aw, Hyuck, it was an accident. I’m sure she knows that.”

“And I felt even more horrible when I saw her in class a couple days later with that same eye black and blue.”

“Ouch…”

“And then on the last day of class, I caught up with her in the hall after turning in our finals, and I finally did it. I finally asked her out. And she said no.”

You let out a forlorn sigh, looping your arm with your friend’s. “I’m sorry, Hyuck. If it makes you feel any better, I think she’s missing out on a really great, sweet guy.”

“That doesn’t really help, but thanks, I guess.”

“I think it’s good to go ahead and be sad for a little bit, if that’s what you’re feeling.”

He let out a cynical chuckle. “I think my sadness is a bit of an inconvenience for the guys.”

“That’s not true,” you reassured him. “They’re just worried about you. You’re usually this big, unstoppable ball of sunshine. It’s like when one of you gets hurt on the ice, right? One of your teammates will slap a bandage where it hurts and you’ll keep playing. They don’t get why the bandages aren’t enough this time.”

“I don’t know if ‘ball of sunshine’ is a phrase that any of them of would use to describe me.” The corner of his lips twitched. “But thank you, Y/N. I didn’t really know what to expect when Sungchan told me that you wanted to hang out with me 1-on-1 today, considering you don’t really know me like you know some of the other guys. Like, I don’t think we’ve even been alone in a room together before, you know?”

“Huh. Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Now I get it, though.”

“Get what?”

“Why everyone thinks you and Sungchan are gonna get married.”

“What?”

“Not like, now, but that you guys are going to, you know, make it, or whatever. Soulmates or something.”

You quirked up an eyebrow at the underclassman. “You believe in soulmates, Hyuck?”

“Yeah, I think I do. And I’m only telling you this because I don’t think you’ll call it stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s sweet,” you reassured him, patting his shoulder. “A jock with a romantic streak, very swoon-worthy.”

“That how Sungchan got you?” He teased, elbowing you in the side lightly.

“Something like that.”

“Hmph.”

“This isn’t the end for you,” you said knowingly.

“I know, I know. Just feels like it.”

“I get it. Next time you want to watch Pride and Prejudice fourteen times, you can call me up, okay? Give Mark a break.”

“Careful, I might take you up on that.”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t serious. But for now, arcade?”

His eyes lit up at you finally revealing where the two of you were going. “Oh hell yeah! I’m so going to annihilate you at air hockey!”

“Don’t count on it,” you warned. “Sungchan’s taught me a few things.”

“Hey, baby, I’m back—” Sungchan skidded to a stop in the threshold of his bedroom, bag of delivery food in hand.

“Hey, Channie,” you smiled up at him as you were sat against his headboard. Donghyuck was curled up on top of the blankets by your legs like a cat, his head in your lap as you gently played with his hair.

“I was gone for like a minute,” your boyfriend gestured to the sophomore with bewilderment. “Does he just have a sixth sense for when you’re alone?”

“I told them they could join us for a movie.”

“Them?”

“Yo, you mind, bro?” Another voice piped up, Yangyang ducking under your boyfriend’s arm to walk in. He flopped across the foot of the bed, partially on Donghyuck’s legs.

“Oh, hey, Sungchan,” Jeno almost sounded surprised to see the captain in his own room as he followed his teammate in, laying down on his front with his arms and head resting on Yangyang’s back, and his feet up by the pillows.

“Well, I didn’t order enough for all of you,” Sungchan sighed, climbing over Jeno to settle into the empty space left beside you. “And no filching off Y/N, Donghyuck. Go downstairs and get your own food if you’re hungry.”

Hyuck tried to protest, “But—”

“Two of you don’t even live here, be grateful I let you eat as much as I do from our fridge, you’re not also getting the dinner that I bought for me and my girlfriend.”

“Fine. I’ll text Mark to bring snacks.”

“Mark, too?!”

Walking back with the guys to the Puck Pad after the last hockey practice of the calendar year, there was an elated buzz in the air now that the athletes were all finally on their own winter break. They were going over their plans for their short break: Jeno and Yangyang were going to Jeno’s parents’ the next day, Ten and Sicheng would both be leaving for their own homes tonight, meanwhile Mark and Donghyuck were both from the area, so they were staying at the Nu Chi house and just meeting up with their families on the holidays.

Realizing that you and Sungchan hadn’t really talked about your holiday plans yet, you peered up at him, about to ask, when suddenly your head started feeling light. You furrowed your brow, trying to blink away the momentary confusion as whatever you were about to say had slipped from your mind. Your head didn’t feel right on your body, but you couldn’t put your finger on what exactly it was.

Sungchan took just one look at you before letting go of your hand to instead grab your upper arm to steady you. His other hand went diving into the pockets of the practice bag in front of you, fervently searching for something.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Jeno, the owner of the bag, whipped around to look at him incredulously.

“Where’s your snacks?” Sungchan was fumbling into another pocket now.

“Ate them already. I’m bulking.”

“Dude, bad idea,” Ten snorted.

“Shut up, Ten!”

Sungchan had started ransacking another teammate’s bag, and successfully pulled out a sports drink this time.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Yangyang protested.

Your boyfriend stopped and sat you on a bench nearby, cracking open the drink. “Y/N, here.”

“Bad idea to what?” You squinted your eyes up between Ten and Jeno curiously.

“Why does she need—” Yangyang was still complaining.

“Jeno’s been talking to Sugar n’ Spice,” Donghyuck answered your question, mischievous glint in his eye.

“Who—” You mumbled, but got cut off by the bottle being pushed against your lips insistently.

“Y/N,” Sungchan’s stern voice refocused you, and you obliged, taking a small sip of the sugary drink.

Ten continued filling you in, “Sugar n’ Spice and Everything Nice. One of Johnny’s old girlfriends.”

Jeno crossed his arms with an indignant huff, “They were not—”

“And who are you really going to believe? Johnny or her?” Donghyuck retorted.

“You didn’t even go here when they—”

“Guys, shut the hell up!” Mark finally snapped at all of them, gesturing to your general unwell demeanor.

“Oh shit dude.” Yangyang’s eyes widened.

“Yeah.”

“Bro, she does not look good,” Jeno stated the obvious.

“She’ll be fine in a minute,” Sungchan replied, holding the bottle back up to your mouth. His voice was firm but gentle as he instructed you, “Y/N, drink some more.”

“Anyway, Jeno, no matter how much you bulk, it’s not going to make up for the inches you’re missing. Height or otherwise,” Donghyuck taunted nonchalantly.

“Lee Donghyuck, I’m going to break your fucking nose, come here!” Jeno lunged for the underclassman, only making him yelp and dart away.

“Don’t—!” Mark’s warning was cut off as Jeno chased Donghyuck down, his voice fading out as he sighed and finished quietly, “...Cause any permanent damage...”

“You okay, Y/N?” Sicheng asked, as you took a couple more small sips.

You nodded. “Just a bit low, uhm, blood sugar. I’ll be okay.”

It always took you a few minutes to realize when you were low on your own, but Sungchan could tell with just one glance at you—it made you wonder what you looked like when you got like this.

Back at the Puck Pad that evening, you had already said your goodbyes to Ten and Sicheng; and Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark were upstairs in Yangyang’s room allegedly helping him pack. Judging by the video game sounds you could hear from the bottom of the stairs, they had gotten a little distracted. Sungchan and you had settled down in the living room to watch a movie, and with the fog lifted from your mind, you were able to remember what you were going to ask him earlier.

“Hey, Channie?” You picked your head up from his chest to be able to look at him. He was laying on his back across the whole couch, you snuggled in on top of him.

“Hm?” He looked from the TV to you.

“What are your plans?”

“Oh. Well…” He paused the movie, his hands coming to settle on your lower back and sneaking just under the hem of your (his) hoodie to trace spirals into your skin. “Our lease ends after graduation, and Yangyang’s been talking about looking for a place with Jeno, and Ten and Sicheng are probably going to get their own place. I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but every time I try to think what I’m going to do, I just imagine that we would move in together.”

Your dumbfounded silence encouraged him to go on, his voice sounding far away and dreamy.

“Like, I don’t know, being able to wake up next to you everyday, and sleep in on the weekends with you with no practice. Cooking breakfast for you every morning, even just grocery shopping together. It’s all I can think about, really.”

You finally choked out, “I-I meant for the holidays. Like, visiting family, being in town…”

His cheeks started flushing. “Right. Sorry. I’m visiting my family on Christmas Day. What about you?”

“Me too.”

“We should spend Christmas Eve together, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. New Year’s, too?”

“Of course. Who else would I kiss at midnight?”

A fond smile spread across your lips, and you tilted your head up to give him a peck. “Of course.”

“So, uhm,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “The other thing I mentioned?”

“What are you doing after graduation? Made a decision about that PhD program?”

“Yep… more school,” he sighed.

“Me, too.” You pulled a blanket up over you two. “I think… Yeah, we can move in together. I’d really like that.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You make me so happy, baby.”

“You could just move in with me? To my apartment?” You suggested as a grin spread across your face. You were getting giddy already imagining it.

Another forehead kiss. “I would love that.”

“You make me really happy too, Channie,” you murmured, your fingertip tracing mindless figure-eights into the front of his shirt.

“I love you so much.” He cradled your face with two hands with a tenderness that made your heart ache to be a part of him in a way that you could never physically attain.

You leaned in to touch your nose to his. “I love you, too.”

Christmas Eve was just a couple days later, and instead of walking in the park amongst the freshly fallen snow, or touring the elaborate lights put up in the rich neighborhood nearby, or baking Christmas cookies while watching cheesy Christmas movies, or any of your other cute Christmas plans with Sungchan, you were bedridden with a migraine. A bad one.

You let out a soft whimper as tears welled up in your eyes, both from the pain and from pure frustration at having something else ruined for you because of these stupid migraines. Ice skating you could reschedule, but you couldn’t take a rain check on your first Christmas (Eve) together.

Sungchan curled his arms around you tighter, a steady pressure across your back. “It’s been two hours,” he murmured as quietly as possible.

“I don’t want my stupid fucking medication that isn’t fucking working,” you practically spat out, the first tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Sungchan pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, careful to avoid your scalp, which currently felt like it was on fire in addition to your usual squeezing and stabbing migraine pain. Side effect from a new rescue medication your neurologist was having you try. Safe to say it wasn’t a winner.

At the distress in his own tone over his usual regrets of seeing you hurting but not being able to help, you finally broke down into open sobs. Clenching your eyes shut tight, you clung to his arms. Your chest shook with every breath as you quietly wailed, burying your face in your pillow. You couldn’t bear to turn around and see the angst on your boyfriend’s features.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “If I could take all your pain away and put it on myself, I would. God, I’m so, so sorry.”

You could hardly talk past the solid, hard lump in your throat, at first letting out a couple more strangled sobs as your tears and spit ruined your pillowcase. When you finally blubbered something out, your voice was distraught and despondent, “Why can I never… never have nice things? Why does it feel like the world is so big and nothing can go right and it all hurts so much… and I’m just so small and my body and my brain are… so broken?”

“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know,” Sungchan replied desperately, fully weeping with you into your shoulder now. “You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.”

You eventually fell asleep, but unlike your typical migraine naps, this one didn’t bring any sort of peace to Sungchan’s mind. Usually the naps were a good sign, you would wake up without the migraine and be relatively all better. But you’d never cried yourself to sleep during a migraine before, and having to hold a bawling you in his arms while he couldn’t do anything but apologize for being absolutely useless had left him shaken up. He didn’t think he’d be able to nap with you this time.

Sungchan didn’t dare move, keeping watch over you as you slept as if he could keep anymore pain away. He could still hear the echo of his heart breaking into a million pieces the moment you’d started crying.

Your head still fucking hurt. But this was a different throbbing than before, and was definitely from the heavy crying you’d done earlier. You groaned, covering your eyes and sniffling.

You could hear Sungchan’s breathing next to you, but he didn’t say anything as you rolled over to bury your face in his neck. Letting out a deep sigh, you found that you were dried out, unable to summon more tears. Finally, you spoke, “What time is it?”

God, your throat was dry.

“Six forty-five…” he replied softly.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Channie,” you grumbled.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Do you think it’s too late to go see the Christmas lights?”

You could feel him tense up under you.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to make yourself do anything for me, baby,” he reassured you, rubbing your back.

“I want to…” You insisted. “I just… probably need my earplugs. And sunglasses.”

“Of course, whatever you want.”

“And then we can come back and do eggnog pancakes?” You asked hopefully. The migraine had started right before Sungchan could start cooking this morning, so you weren’t able to enjoy your promised festive breakfast prepared by your boyfriend.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And then presents.”

“Like I said, anything my girl wants.”

And so Sungchan drove you around in his car with the radio off, your sunglasses on like it wasn’t dusk right then, and earplugs in to drown out the sounds of passing traffic. The two of you were silent through the whole ride, communicating solely by squeezing the other’s hand that was laced with yours over the center console, pointing at any lights and decorations that either of you particularly liked, and smiling and nodding in acknowledgement.

When you got back to your apartment, you took off your sunglasses and earplugs to plop yourself down at your kitchen table while Sungchan once again brought out ingredients. He hummed Christmas carols while he cooked, and you rested your cheek in your hand to watch him fondly as he bustled around.

Your head was still throbbing, and you winced as you pulled your hood up and gathered your knees to your chest. As Sungchan opened the fridge to put the eggnog away, you saw him pull something else out, a familiar box.

“When is your injection?” He asked quietly, holding the container up.

You scrunched your nose as you brought out your phone to check your calendar. “It’s… oh shit, today.”

“I’ll leave it out to warm up.” He set it on the counter before going over to your stove and setting a timer for an hour.

You were supposed to wait at least 30 minutes after the medication left the fridge to inject it, but you liked to wait closer to an hour or two to make sure it had fully come to room temperature, to reduce any injection pain.

The pancakes were ready soon, and Sungchan and you ate them on the couch, the odd bits of conversation floating around between bites.

“So what are you and your family doing tomorrow?” Sungchan rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh, dinner’s at my parents’ place. I’ll pop over to Chenle’s family’s Christmas, too. They’re just across the street,” you hummed. “We don’t do a lot, but everyone comes over, so it’ll be a packed house.”

“That’s nice.”

“What about you, Channie? Any Christmas traditions?”

“You’re eating it,” he said proudly. “My dad always makes eggnog pancakes on Christmas morning. Then we go to my grandparents’ house for the day.”

You couldn’t wade through the slop that your mind was covered in to be able to aptly express how you felt about Sungchan sharing one of his family’s Christmas traditions with you, so instead you turned your head to press a long kiss to his cheek, squeezing his forearm appreciatively. He seemed to get the message, and moved his head to be able to kiss you gently.

“I love you, Y/N,” he mumbled against your lips. Then, pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “I’m so glad we got to spend today together.”

You couldn’t help but bite down on your tongue bitterly at that. “Yeah, I love you too, Channie.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“My stupid migraines ruined our day! Again!” You turned away from him, dropping your face in your hands.

Immediately, one of his large hands rubbed your back while his other came to rest on your knee. “Baby, baby, my day wasn’t ruined.”

“We didn’t get to do anything how we wanted, and all I did was cry and make you cry!” You felt your eyes growing wet again. “And I’m fucking crying again!”

“I really do wish you hadn’t spent all day in pain,” he admitted. “You deserve to have the perfect Christmas Eve like all the cheesy rom-coms you like. But please don’t feel like you ruined my day or anything. I spent the whole day with my girl, which is a perfect day in my book.”

You wiped at your face messily, looking over your shoulder at him. “You really mean that?”

“Of course.”

“Even though I made you cry on Christmas? …Eve?”

“Well, it wouldn’t have been fair for you to be the only one of us who did.”

That finally made you chuckle, and Sungchan gave you a soft smile in return as he pulled you into him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, enjoying his warmth.

“Thank you, my Sungchannie,” you mumbled. “For being the most wonderful boyfriend in the whole universe.”

“The whole universe?” He repeated skeptically.

“Yep. Not even a competition.”

The kitchen timer went off then, and he gave you a final shoulder squeeze and peck to your temple before standing up and heading into the kitchen. He returned with your medication and stupidly large first aid kit. Popping the first aid kit open, he dutifully started pulling out an alcohol wipe, then an antihistamine. Sungchan had been around for your last injection by happenstance, and watched your every move carefully, so you weren’t surprised that he was able to get everything ready now.

“I don’t need that unless I break out,” you tried to point out. You weren’t allergic to the medication, but sometimes you got hives around the injection site within the first day or so just from it making your skin more sensitive.

“Baby, you always break out,” he insisted, presumably remembering when you started reacting less than an hour later last time, and all your stories about other post-injection reactions.

“No, there’s been like… a couple times I haven’t.”

He pointedly set the antihistamine down with the alcohol swab, then held up the bandage options for you to choose from.

“Mm… Sanrio,” you nodded to your newest addition. “I want a Kuromi.”

He fished out a bandaid with a Kuromi pattern on it, setting it aside. You broke the seal on the medication box as Sungchan walked into the kitchen. At the sound of running water, you looked up curiously, watching as he thoroughly washed his hands to the elbow like he was about to scrub in for an operation.

As he sat back down beside you, he held out his hands. “Can I do it?”

You froze, freshly opened box in hand. In the nearly two years that you’d been taking the injectable, you’d always done it yourself. Even your first demonstration dose at your neurologist’s office you’d done on your own to learn how to operate it. It had never occurred to you to ask anybody else to, really. Technically, the directions said you could, but you lived by yourself, had always been alone.

“If you’re okay with it,” Sungchan added after a couple beats of silence. “It’s fine if you want to do it yourself. I get it. You’ve just had a really long day, I want to help.”

“They say someone else can do the back of your arm…” You looked down at the small card of directions that you picked up out of the carton, a diagram highlighting all the possible injection areas. “But I want to be able to see it. So you’ll still have to do my thigh.”

“Okay.” He nodded seriously, accepting the box as you handed it to him.

He took a moment to study the instructions very carefully, and you opened the bandage in preparation. When he set the directions down and picked up the alcohol wipe, you rolled up the leg of your shorts and readjusted in your seat.

“I usually do it here.” You pointed to a spot, and he wiped the cool material over the area thoroughly.

Next, he grabbed the auto-injector from the box, pulling the cap off the end and dropping it back in the carton. You consciously tried to level your breathing as he paused to read the directions one more time. Sungchan pinched your skin and pulled it apart until it was properly taut.

“Do you want a countdown?” He asked.

“No, but hold on, I need to relax my muscle.” You flexed and eased your thigh a couple times, letting out a deep breath. “Okay, good.”

You kept your eyes focused just off to the side of the injection—you’ve never been able to watch needles go in you that you weren’t operating yourself, but you couldn’t fully look away this time. So instead, your gaze was on Sungchan’s forearm, the auto-injector enough in your peripheral that you could tell if something were to go wrong.

He pressed the blunt plastic tip against your skin. As requested, you had no countdown before the near-simultaneous click of the pen and prick of the needle came, followed by the stinging pain of the medication being pumped into you. You let out a slight hiss, already counting in your mind. The built-in indicator that meant the injection was over was displayed on the pen already, but you noticed that Sungchan kept holding it there until you reached your fifteen-count in your head. He had remembered from when he watched you last time, and must have been counting himself. The directions said to leave it in until the indicator showed, about 15 seconds, but you always liked to count to 15 seconds just in case, something you’d mentioned off-handedly last time.

As soon as he took the injector out and tossed it in the box on the table, you watched as a dot of blood and clear fluid—medicine—welled to the surface. Sungchan rushed to pull the bandage out, applying it to the site, catching the drop just in time before it fell down your leg. He gingerly smoothed down the ends, Kuromi smirking back up at you two.

Sungchan took the empty auto-injector into your bedroom, and you heard the telltale sound of it clanking into the plastic sharps disposal bin you kept under the bathroom sink. When he came back, you were already picking up the trash and closing up the first aid kit.

“Don’t forget your antihistamine,” he reminded you, holding out the tablet and your water bottle.

With your hands full, you leaned forward to take a sip from the straw of your bottle, then opened your mouth like a baby bird for him to drop the pill into. You swallowed it with slight difficulty, but he seemed content that you’d taken it, at least.

After everything was cleaned up, you meandered back into the living room, stopping in front of the couch to inspect the injection site with a pout.

“Is everything okay, baby?” Sungchan sat forward, brow furrowed with concern.

“Hurts…” You whined, flopping down next to him. “It didn’t use to burn after like this, but ever since my neuro upped my dose last month… it hurts.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he pulled you closer to him with two arms around your waist.

You made a small ‘humph’ sound, habitually poking at the injection site. Ow, dumbass.

“Thank you, baby,” Sungchan mumbled into your neck. “For letting me help you.”

The genuine relief in his voice made you smile to yourself. You knew how cut up he was every time he couldn’t help during your migraines, and at first you didn’t get why he wanted to do your injection this time. After all, this was the same guy who had you come with him to get his blood drawn for his routine drug testing by disguising it as an ice cream date then suddenly remembering that he had to stop by the student health center on the way there (and jumped at your offer to come back with him to hold his hand instead of waiting in the lobby). But in his mind, doing your injection must’ve been the best he could do to help prevent you from hurting again like he’d seen today.

“Why are you the sweetest boy ever?” You whispered, kissing his hair.

Sungchan let out a muffled giggle. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” he hummed playfully. “Think I was born like this.”

“We’ve got to make sure you don’t go out in the rain, or you’ll melt,” you teased.

“I mean what I said the other day, you know. Just didn’t want to scare you… but I really do think this is the most I’ve ever loved someone. I know it hasn’t been that long, and it always feels like I’m rushing stuff with you, but it just always feels right. Everything always feels right all the time with you.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into when you said ‘I love you’ on our second date,” you reminded him, fond smile flitting across your lips.

“I thought we agreed to never talk about that again,” he grumbled.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But you were so adorable when you tried to pretend like you didn’t.”

“You were wearing my hoodie and had whipped cream on your nose and you were just so… perfect,” he defended himself, trailing off into a dreamy sigh. He smooched your cheek loudly. “Still are.”

You laughed, squirming a little bit at the sudden attack of affection, but not moving away as he peppered more overzealous kisses to your face. You instead cradled his cheek with one of your hands.

When he’d finally stopped to rest his chin on your shoulder again, you responded a bit more seriously to him, “I love you too… a lot. I don’t really have any romantic metric, to be honest. Migraines have sort of made it hard to date… or inconvenient, at least. But you need to know that I really do love and appreciate you so, so much, my Sungchannie.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he nodded just the slightest against you, gently rocking the two of you side-to-side.

You grabbed one of his hands to play with his fingers, slightly calloused from the weightlifting you knew was part of his mandatory hockey conditioning. Hockey season was already halfway over. His last season. You couldn’t imagine Jung Sungchan not playing hockey.

“Channie?”

“My girl?”

“I know we already talked about moving in together after graduation, but… What are you going to do after hockey’s over? I kind of can’t picture you not on the ice.”

You could feel him take a deep breath, and his free hand came to join the fray as it found one of your wrists. Specifically, the one that sported a thick blue and orange paracord bracelet with five plastic alphabet beads on it—2-7-J-S-C—that every hockey player made their freshman year. Sungchan gave you his not too long ago, on your one-month anniversary.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t make himself say it any louder. “I’ve tried to think about it too and… I can’t. I’ve been playing since I was a kid. I don’t… really have anything else. Just school, hockey, and you.”

“We’ll find you a hobby or two,” you promised, squeezing his hand. “Maybe you can take piano lessons again.”

He chuckled, letting you gently curl and uncurl his crooked pinky, the one he had broken that made him stop playing in the first place. “I don’t know… I think that might be gone for me.”

“If it’s something you really liked, you should do it,” you insisted. “It would just be for fun. I think it’d be nice, if you found the right teacher.”

“Well…”

“If you want to, Channie. I’m just brainstorming here.”

“Hockey season’s not over yet,” he pointed out. “We can circle back around in the summer.”

“That’s true, that’s true,” you agreed. “You should be savoring every moment right now, not letting me make you prematurely existential. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forward-thinking, baby, I appreciate that.”

“But it’s your last season, you don’t need me reminding you of that all the time.”

“Then why are we still talking about it, hm?” He said, mischievous smile on his face.

“We’re not! We’re not!” You held your hands up in surrender. “It’s present time! I swear!”

Sungchan laughed as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple.

“Hi, Mr. Zhong!” You were beaming as you walked into Chenle’s house the next day, immediately being wrapped in a bear hug by his dad. “Merry Christmas!”

“Y/N! It’s been too long, too long,” he complained as you went to hug your best friend next, who had also come to greet you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” Chenle hugged you tightly.

“Merry Christmas, LeLe.”

Letting go of your friend, you turned back to his dad, who was still waiting for a response, his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Zhong,” you bowed your head in apology. “We just get so busy with school and—”

“Yeah, Y/N’s been really busy with her new boyfriend!” Chenle announced loudly, making sure that every occupant in the whole house could hear him.

“Y/N! You have a boyfriend?!” Mrs. Zhong called from the kitchen.

“Boyfriend?!” Mr. Zhong echoed in shock, his eyes going comically wide.

You were already smacking Chenle on the head and pinching his ear furiously. “Zhong Chenle, you little— I’m going to kill you!”

Chenle jerked out of your grip and ran away, you hot on his heels. He ran right into the kitchen, where his mother and several aunties immediately swarmed you.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Zhong grasped you by the wrist, pulling you over towards the stove where several things were cooking. She grabbed a spoonful of something from a bubbling pot and held it out towards you to try. As you leaned forward to taste it, she asked, “So, who is this boyfriend Chenle is talking about?”

“Is he handsome?” Another woman asked.

“Does he hold the door open for you?”

“What’s his name?”

“Does he know how to cook?”

“Do we know him?”

“Does he have a job?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Show us a picture!”

You choked on the rather delicious spoonful of soup that you’d just taken as you heard Chenle’s cackling laughter in the background. Wiping your mouth, you turned around to shoot him a glare before answering some of their questions.

“His name is Jung Sungchan, he goes to the same college as Chenle and I. We actually all had a class together a few years ago,” you started off slowly.

“Pictures, Y/N!” One of the aunties insisted.

“Yeah, Y/N, show us pictures!” Chenle repeated. “Or I will.”

“I will end you,” you said through gritted teeth as you pulled out your phone. Flicking through your gallery, you found a few that you really liked.

They were from his last home game, and these in particular were taken by Taeyong, as it had been the game against their league rivals, which drew in the graduated Nu Chi brothers and team members. You pulled the first one up, him still in his uniform as you had gone down to congratulate him right on the ice. He was towering over you even more than normal in his skates, an arm around your shoulders as you wrapped both of yours around his waist, the two of you smiling at the camera. As you went to show the picture to everyone, your skin started growing hot with the ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s that sprang up among the women.

“He plays hockey for our school, he’s actually captain.” You grew even more embarrassed as Mrs. Zhong zoomed in on Sungchan’s face.

“Chenle,” she looked up at her son with squinted eyes. “Is this your handsome friend who brought you home when you were drunk?”

“Mom, that was one time three years ago,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Chenle,” she said sternly.

“Yes, that’s him.”

Her face broke into a lovely smile. “Oh, I liked him. Very polite.”

“Yeah, I know, Mom. You still talk about it.”

“When was this?” You asked your friend with bewilderment. The two of you did everything together, including getting embarrassingly shitfaced as freshmen. Or, Chenle would get embarrassingly shitfaced and you would watch, thanks to your migraine meds.

“There was a Nu Chi party, after the Halloween one…” Chenle explained, and you appreciated him leaving out the details of the Halloween party in front of all these people. “Long story short, I didn’t realize how strong the punch was. Sungchan gave me a ride home.”

“Very polite, very handsome,” Mrs. Zhong nodded approvingly. She swiped to the next picture for you, this one of Sungchan kissing your cheek as you laughed and grabbed his jersey.

They all tittered and made various comments and approving noises, and you quickly turned your phone off and put it away bashfully.

“So, yeah… that’s him,” you finished awkwardly among their disappointed noises of you taking away the photos.

“I like him.” Chenle’s mom patted your cheek before turning back to the stove. “And if he gives you any trouble, you know Chenle will…”

“Mom did you see him? What do you think I could possibly do?” Chenle retorted. “He literally carried me in here over his shoulder, I don’t think I could really defend Y/N’s honor if it came to it!”

“Chenle…”

“Fine, Mom!”

v. i sat across from you, reading ulysses; and whilst i tried to project some intellect i’m not convinced i knew what it all meant, but i did know that the words were so pretty

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Sungchan mumbled, resting his head on your shoulder.

You giggled, brushing some of his hair from his face. “Hmm, a couple times.”

“What?!” His head snapped back up, distress on his features. “Only twice?! God, what kind of boyfriend am I?”

The two of you were back in the team’s favorite dive bar, this time after the last home game of the season. It had been a smashing victory—in addition to the seniors’ last time to play a game on their home ice—meaning that everyone, including all of the long-graduated players and Nu Chi Tau brothers who had shown up, were celebrating extra hard tonight. You’d driven your car specifically to allow Sungchan to let loose for the occasion, hence his currently more-than-buzzed state.

He’d pulled you into his lap at the corner booth you were sitting at some time ago, morphing into the lovey-dovey cuddle monster that he always was when tipsy. Not that he exactly kept his hands to himself when he was sober either, but as soon as alcohol entered the equation, it was like he thought he’d die if he weren’t holding you at all times.

“I was playing, baby, you tell me that all the time,” you reassured him.

“Oh, good.” He breathed out in relief, going back to snuggling up to your shoulder. “Because you’re sooo pretty. Like, the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, Channie.” You kissed the top of his head. “I think you’re pretty, too.”

“You do?”

“For sure.” You traced the line of the bridge of his nose. “My pretty boy.”

He hummed contentedly, but didn’t say anything more, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Ten, Taeyong, and another graduated Nu Chi brother, Kun, came over to your booth then, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Is he asleep?” Taeyong gestured to Sungchan.

“No, just a cuddly drunk,” you explained with a fond chuckle.

“‘M not drunk…” Your boyfriend protested.

“Tell that to the victory shots you were doing with Hyuck, Jeno, and Yangyang an hour ago,” you snorted, pushing your glass of water over towards him. “Here, some water, Channie.”

Kun offered out the half-eaten basket of onion rings that he’d walked over with. “Have some of these, too, Sungchan.”

“Sweet, thanks!” He grabbed a couple and stuffed them in his mouth happily.

“Thanks, Kun,” you smiled at him. “He didn’t drink on an empty stomach, so we should be ready to go in a bit. I want him mostly able to walk on his own two feet before we leave, though. Carrying a drunk Chenle and drunk Sungchan would be very different experiences, I feel.”

They all snickered, and you looked over at where your friend was currently pulling all of the cash out of his pocket to bet on a pool game between Johnny, Jaehyun—a former hockey player who had graduated last year, Jungwoo, and Yuta—former hockey player and Nu Chi brother, from the same cohort as Johnny. It looked like Dejun was running the betting pool, collecting Chenle’s money in addition to Hendery’s, Mark’s, and Hyuck’s.

“I feel like we should do something about the gambling happening over there…” Taeyong sighed, having been looking in the same direction as you.

“Probably,” Kun agreed, though neither of them made any move to get up. They simultaneously took swigs of their drinks.

“Y/N, what did you think of the reading for Direct Study?” Ten asked you, resting his very pink cheek in his hand.

“Oh, I thought it was fantastic!” You lit up. You and Ten both had Dr. Son for a Direct Study course this semester, and he was letting you two collaborate since you had such similar tastes in literature—you had a feeling your professor also liked having only one reading list and being able to meet with the both of you at once instead of separately. “I’ve always loved that author, though. The way her short stories can either be a quick read or you can really sit and take your time with them to absorb and peel back as many layers as you want.”

“You’ve read her before?”

“I recommended her to Dr. Son a while ago, actually. I read another one of her short story collections and sort of fell in love. I’ve been working through her whole body of work on my own time, but I hadn’t made it to this one yet, so I’m going into it with fresh eyes like you. I’m excited to see what you’ve been getting out of her works.”

“I think her diction is really fascinating.”

“Yes!” You gushed. “You can tell she takes her time with which words she’s using. Oh, I just love it.”

“You’re doing the Master’s in Literary Theory and Critical Analysis next year, right?”

“Yep! Picked my classes a couple weeks ago.”

Your friend flashed you a wide grin. “Thank God. There will be someone else competent.”

“Yeah, I’m doing Lit and Crit, and this one—” you patted Sungchan’s head as he was still shoveling onion rings in his mouth “—is going for his PhD in molecular biology.”

“Woah.” Ten’s eyebrows shot up.

“And what are you going to do with that, Sungchan?” Taeyong asked curiously.

“Fish,” your boyfriend answered absentmindedly through a mouthful of food.

You couldn’t help but laugh with your whole chest at his answer, even as you went to cover his mouth. “Chew and swallow before you talk, Channie. I think you just spat crumbs on poor Kun.”

The older man was flicking a piece of an onion ring off of his arm, giving you a strained, close-lipped smile.

Sungchan spent a considerable amount of time chewing his food, then washed it down with your water before giving a more cognizant answer. “I’m going to study a disease in a fish.”

“Molecular biology with a minor concentration in marine biology,” you corrected yourself and clarified his answer a bit more. “He’s joining one of his professors’ research teams.”

“Congrats, Sungchan,” the former Nu Chi president told him sincerely.

“Yeah, dude, wow,” Ten blinked, laughed, then shook his head. “You know, I don’t even know if I knew what your major actually was this whole time.”

“Seriously?” You snorted. “You two have been teammates for four years, and have lived together for two years.”

“I mean, I knew he was a STEM major,” Ten tried to defend himself. “But past that… yeah, I had no clue. It’s just sort of you know, when you think of Jung Sungchan, you think of hockey. He’s the hockey captain. I mean, does anybody really know Mark’s major?”

“I—”

“Not you, Taeyong, we know he was your Little.”

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, but found yourself drawing a blank. After all this time of getting closer to the team, you had sort of prided yourself on being friends with and knowing all of your boyfriend’s teammates on some individual level as people. But frustratingly, all you could think up for Mark was that he was Nu Chi president, center on the hockey team, and had been in your Comp I class a few years ago—a Gen Ed credit.

“Well damn,” you said bitterly.

“Exactly.”

After a beat, Taeyong spoke up quietly, “Music Theory. He likes producing music.”

Ten, Sungchan, and you all let out a chorus of ‘ohh’s at this revelation. You looked over at where Mark was spectating the pool game—from a vantage point of leaning tipsily against Johnny’s side when he wasn’t shooting, and against Jaehyun’s side when Johnny was shooting. You watched with amusement as he got passed back and forth, happy to see him being taken care of for once instead of taking care of all his friends.

“I should go swap out my Little’s drink for some water,” Taeyong announced. It was then that Hyuck must have made some comment to Mark, as Mark shoved his friend away with a loud complaint, his tone sounding rather embarrassed. “And my grand-little too…”

Dejun, Hendery, and Chenle were spectating their drunken spat in fits of giggles. Dejun and Hendery both reached for their drinks again, and Kun shook his head.

“I should do the same for my own demons before they get to that point,” Kun stood up with Taeyong.

Ten followed them out, “And I’m not going to third wheel. Bye, you two!”

“Bye, guys,” you gave the three of them farewells. “Congrats again, Ten.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he beamed down at you genuinely.

“Oh, Kun!” You called for him before he could get out of earshot.

He stopped a turned to you with an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

“Thanks for the onion rings, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I have one more favor to ask: Can you cut Chenle off too?” You requested. “And I’m not sure how you all are sorting out DDs tonight, but—”

“I’ll make sure he gets home safe,” he promised. “You two have a goodnight.”

“Thanks. Goodnight!”

Looking between Sungchan and the empty onion ring basket, you then checked the time on your phone.

“Alright, are you ready to go, baby?” You asked him quietly.

He nodded with his whole upper body. “Am I going home with you?”

“Yep. I’m taking you back to my place, and our classes all got canceled tomorrow for Spring Break, remember?” You shouldered your tote bag. “So we get to sleep in.”

“That’s my favorite thing.”

You giggled. “Sleeping in?”

“No, waking up with you,” he wrapped both his arms around your waist again. “And giving you a good morning kiss, and cooking breakfast for you, and helping you with your meds and your cuff.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be getting you meds in the morning tomorrow,” you quipped, pecking his forehead. “But I think mornings with my Sungchannie are one of my favorite things, too.”

“Sounds like a perfect match to me.”

“Hard to argue you with you there,” you snickered. “So are you ready to go? The sooner we go home and go to sleep, the sooner it’ll be morning, you know.”

“You’re so smart, baby. My girl’s the smartest ever…”

Pushing yourself out of his lap, you pulled him out of the booth after you and onto his feet. He immediately looped his arm around your shoulders, and you kept a hand on his chest and an arm around his waist to steady him as you started towards the exit. At the door, the two of you stopped to give the whole bar a final wave and call goodbye to anybody who heard you. You got a loud, raucous chorus of yelled and slurred goodbyes in return before you headed out to your car.

Back at your apartment, you made him change out of his clothes that smelled like the bar and into some of his that he kept here, then got into your own pajamas for the night before flopping into bed.

“Okay, question,” you announced as he laid his head in your lap, throwing an arm across your legs as if you were going anywhere.

“About?” He asked, his eyes fluttering shut and a content smile coming to his face as you started playing with his hair.

“How do you think you made it to the top two in Phantasmagorical Phriday this year? I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m not trying to be mean, Channie, or like, a Lit major elitist or anything, but Chenle and I have both been studying this stuff for four years now, right? Hendery has at least taken professional writing classes and some other stuff for his Comm degree. I think. But, no offense, you STEM majors aren’t exactly lauded for your excellent prose. First year, okay, we’re all brand new at it, and Dr. Son actually did real workshopping with us on it. But after that, we were essentially just getting coffee together once a month and then sending him a short story.”

He squinted one eye open to peer up at you curiously. “Do you think I bought off Dr. Son or something?”

“Bought off our professor so that you would almost win? Sounds like a waste of your money. Maybe bought off Chenle and Hendery to write shitty stories this year and better your chances? But you knew I was so morally upstanding that I wouldn’t take the bribe.”

“Oh, definitely. You’ve cracked it,” he snickered, closing his eyes again to enjoy your fingers working through his hair.

“I mean… Do you have a secret poetry journal in here somewhere?”

“No. You just kind of are being a little bit of a—” he was cut off by a loud yawn “—Lit major elitist, baby.”

“Mm?” You tilted your head with a confusion, perturbed frown on your face.

“You think that every STEM major just gets their Gen Ed humanities credits and never picks up a book again for the rest of their life.”

“Well…”

“Am I wrong?”

“It’s not like I’m out here balancing equations for fun!” You tried to defend yourself. “I got my science credits and never looked back.”

“I took a few more creative writing and literature classes sometimes,” he shrugged. “Whenever I had a spare slot in my schedule, or needed a couple credits of whatever to keep my scholarship for the semester.”

“Yeah, student athletes, you guys have to be full-time in order to keep your scholarships.”

“Mhm. Sometimes all the classes I needed for my degree that were happening in a semester didn’t uhm, didn’t make the minimum credits, so I needed another class or two.”

“Why lit classes? And writing classes?”

“Baby, it’s literally what you’ve been studying for four years and you’re acting like you can’t understand why anybody would be interested in it,” Sungchan pointed out, pinching your thigh.

You swatted his hand away. “No, I’m just trying to understand you.”

“Did I really act like I hated Dr. Son’s class that much freshman year? I did all four years of Phantasmagorical Phriday.”

“No, you didn’t seem like you hated it or anything. I just thought that you would’ve used the extra slots for easy classes. PE or something.”

“Yeah, Coach was always trying to get me to take his classes.”

“But you just really like writing and lit classes that much?”

“Why is this so surprising to you?”

“Well— I just kind of feel bad that I keep leaving you out of all the crit lit conversations that Ten and I have,” you admitted guiltily, not intending to leave him out of all your fun conversation with his teammate about books in your lit classes, but he never seemed all that interested; nor had he read any of the books, to your knowledge. “Do you want to borrow books or read along so you can talk with us about it?”

“That’s okay, baby,” he told you, reaching up to pat your hands that were already on top of his head. “Honestly, I like listening to you talk about all this stuff more than I ever liked the classes themselves.” After a beat, he absentmindedly added, “I would kind of pick them half-hoping you had signed up for the class, too.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Really?”

“It was more like a little daydream that I had. That I’d walk in on the first day of class and you’d be sitting there and recognize me and smile at me and ask if I wanted to sit with you. Then, you know, we’d swap notes, be study buddies, and I would finally get the courage to ask you out,” Sungchan sighed, nuzzling his cheek against your thigh in an almost nostalgic and bittersweet way.

“Channie…”

“That was really embarrassing to admit. I thought I was going to die without telling anybody that, especially you,” he mumbled, his voice becoming more muffled as he turned his head to fully bury his face in your lap.

“You are a bit tipsy, baby,” you reminded him gently, stroking the back of his head.

He turned onto his back to fully look up at you, taking a slow blink before adding emphatically, “And I just love you so much.”

You grabbed him by the sides of the face to look him in the eye very seriously, but couldn’t hold it for very long, tender smile coming back to your features almost immediately.

“I love you too,” you affirmed, and he was once again beaming, grabbing your hand to presumably kiss your knuckles, but he missed a bit and kissed the back of your wrist instead. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course! Anything for my girl.”

“Your girl wants to know…” You said your words slowly and enunciated to make sure he understood. “On the first day of Dr. Son’s class, do you remember how you felt about me then?”

Specifically, you were thinking about the second game of the season, when you’d learned about Hendery and Chenle’s bet from freshman year. Hendery swore he could tell Sungchan had a crush on you from the first day of Dr. Son’s class, but you had your doubts. Mostly because you yourself couldn’t even remember looking at Sungchan on the first day of class, much less even talking or, God forbid, flirting with him—literally anything that would warrant him apparently outwardly crushing on you.

His face immediately scrunched up. “Mmm…”

“It’s okay baby, I know it was a long time ago, and you’ve had a bit to drink—”

“No, I remember, I remember. I’m just afraid you’re going to think I’m a creep…”

“More of a creep than signing up for classes in my major hoping I was going to be in them?”

“I’m sorry!” He rushed to apologize, his features immediately turning distraught as he half-sat up in his haste to say sorry.

“Shh, shh, my Sungchannie, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you quieted him, squeezing his hand that he was still holding and stroking his forehead, encouraging him to lay down again. “I was just teasing you, I’m sorry, that was mean of me. I think it’s cute, I promise.”

“You think I’m cute?” He asked with a heavy pout.

“Baby boy, I’m in love with you. Of course I think you’re cute.”

The corners of his mouth pulled back into a small smile. “Yay…”

“So? Will you please tell me?”

“M’kay…” He huffed and readjusted again, this time to rest some of his weight on his shoulder as his head was still pillowed in your lap. “I remember everything about that first class, you know? The room number, where we were all sitting, the Phantasma Phour…”

“Really?”

“Third flour, 3104.”

“I thought Gothic Lit was on the second floor?”

“It was on the third floor only for the first week then it got moved to the second floor for the rest of the semester.”

“Huh. Good memory.”

“I remember because the third floor of the Lang building is always super hot, but I didn’t know that because it was our first day. I wore my new hoodie from the team because I was so proud to be on the team, but I didn’t have another shirt on under it because I heard the Science building was always cold from some other Bio majors, so I thought I wasn’t going to have to take it off. So when we were in Dr. Son’s class that first day, I couldn’t take the hoodie off, even though it was like a billion degrees in that room…”

“Oh, oh no, Channie.” You attempted to coo sympathetically through your chuckles.

Sungchan sighed, pulling your hand back to his hair. “Anyway, Dr. Son had us in that Socratic circle, remember?”

“Yep, I remember.” You nodded, obliging to his whims easily and playing with his hair again.

“I was right next to the door, because I just wanted to get in and out of there. Hendery ran in a couple minutes late, and he ended up next to me. You and Chenle sat together at the front, a few seats away from Dr. Son’s desk, right next to the window. I just remember thinking that you were really pretty, with the window kind of giving you this little halo of light.”

“Baby, how is that creepy?” You chuckled. “You thought I was pretty.”

“You don’t remember what happened in the rest of that first class, do you?”

“What? What happened?”

“Dr. Son had us do an icebreaker with a partner…” He trailed off leadingly.

“Channie, I’ve taken so many of Dr. Son’s classes at this point, I can’t even remember who I was paired up with for that one,” you tried to reassure him.

“It was me.”

“Oh.”

“So not only was I a sweaty mess in that hoodie, but I had to be a sweaty mess while talking to this really pretty girl.”

“Channie…” You looked down at him, guilty for not remembering this at all. Though maybe it was for the better if he was apparently such a mess? Maybe that would soothe his distress over “embarrassing” himself in front of you.

“I thought Dr. Son was going to have us ask the normal stuff, name, major, year, you know. But it was Dr. Son, so of course it wasn’t normal.”

“Of course.”

“He made us ask all that, and made us ask each other something we were afraid of, and something we wanted. It wasn’t going to be shared with the class, just with our partner. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you, pretty girl that I knew nothing about other than your name, that you were a freshman, and a Lit major. I really wanted to impress you, but I couldn’t come up with anything super deep. Do you know what I said?”

“No…” You confessed, tone already apologetic as you held his gaze. “I’m so sorry, baby, I don’t remember any of this.”

“S’okay…” He yawned again. “I said the truth. I was afraid of not being as good at hockey as I thought I was, and that I wanted to be team captain one day.”

“Those were good answers. It was the truth, not some philosophical lie. And look at you now, baby boy,” you told him strongly, patting his chest before going back to stroking his head.

“Mm… Back then you just kind of had this look on your face that wasn’t really dislike or even boredom or anything but just sort of like… that was exactly what you were expecting me to say. I felt like I’d just put myself into the dumb, self-centered, sports-obsessed jock archetype in your mind and I’d never be able to get out. Because then you answered and I wanted to smack myself for giving such stupid answers and wearing that stupid hoodie.”

“What did I say?”

“You were afraid of what the outcome of your brain MRI was going to be. And you wanted to hurt less.”

Your jaw dropped in mortification. “Oh my god… Sungchan, I’m so sorry I just dumped all that on you literally the first time we met. I…I had a lot going on then, with my migraines. I had just started seeing my neuro like a month before classes started, she ordered the MRI as a just in case thing, but it still made me so freaked. My appointment to go over the results was after my classes that day, I literally couldn’t think about anything else. All I remember about the first day of freshman year is that appointment, getting the clean results. Holy shit, don’t tell me I dropped that on you and left you hanging about whether or not I was fine?”

“When I saw you on Wednesday actually laughing and smiling with Chenle, I was hopeful. I didn’t want to ask you in case it wasn’t good, though, and you were just trying to distract yourself or something. So I caught up to Chenle after class a while later and asked him. After Dr. Son started the Phantasma Phour stuff. He didn’t tell me about your migraines, just said that the results were clean.”

“Ah, Channie… None of that was creepy.” You promised sweetly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“This is the creepy part…” He mumbled, gaze turning downwards. “Jeno saw me when I was talking to Chenle and invited me to the Nu Chi Halloween party that year, Chenle too. And Chenle brought you, and you got a migraine.”

“I didn’t realize you were there too. Did you see me screaming my head off?”

“No. I was trying to keep Jeno distracted.”

“Jeno?” You echoed, confused.

“Jeno said in the locker room…” Another yawn. He rubbed his eye. “He said he invited Chenle because he knew Chenle was going to bring you, and he wanted to sleep with you. But he didn’t think you would’ve come if he had invited you himself.”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully at this new revelation. “Huh…”

“I was keeping Jeno distracted with beer pong and stuff, but he finally slipped away, I guess at the same time you got your migraine. When he told me the next day that he was giving up on fucking you because you’d punched him in the face and he ‘knew better than to stick his dick in crazy,’ I thought you decked him for coming onto you and just admired you even more.”

“Not quite,” you laughed, remembering the bloody nose he’d nursed all night in the same room that you were nursing your migraine and Chenle sobered up. “But this story does add a whole new layer to my friendship with Jeno… Does Chenle know about this?”

“I don’t think so. Or Jeno would have gotten his nose broken again, right?”

“Probably.”

“Are you mad?”

“What would I be mad about? You having a crush on me? Our mutual friend wanting to fuck me one time three years ago?” You snorted, cupping his cheeks to get him to roll over and look at you again. “Baby, the only person I could possibly be upset with here is myself for not even giving you a second look in that class three years ago. Because then I could’ve had my Sungchannie this whole time.”

“Noooo…” He whined, shaking his head zealously. “I should’ve actually done something instead of just pining like a loserboy.”

“But you’re my loserboy now.”

His eyes widened. “You think I’m a loser?”

“Of course. My prettiest, cutest, sweetest, loveliest—” you punctuated each adjective with a kiss to his nose “—loserboy that I love so much.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” You smiled down at him. “Now, I think that’s plenty of tipsy confessions for one night. It’s time for you to sleep, my Sungchannie.”

As you started readjusting to lay down next to him on the mattress, he grabbed you and pulled you into his chest like a teddy bear.

“You didn’t want to, right?” His voice was right under your ear.

“What?”

“Sleep with Jeno?”

You lowered your voice conspiratorially, “I’m going to tell you a secret: I couldn’t tell any of the Nu Chi guys apart for the longest time. Didn’t even know Jeno’s name until I broke his nose. To me, they were all just gross frat guys who probably didn’t know how to wash their dicks.”

“Should’ve kept it that way,” he grumbled, holding you even tighter.

“Oh? You want me to unlearn all of our friends and acquaintances names?” You teased, wrapping one of your arms around him too.

“Can you?” He asked hopefully.

“Not quite how it works, I’m afraid,” you clicked your tongue. At his tipsy whines starting back up again, you hushed him once more, “Shh, it’s okay. I might know all their names, but none of them get to be baby boy.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He agreed, and you could hear the smug smile in his voice.

“You need anything else from your girl? Or will you finally let her sleep?”

“Kiss?”

“Of course.”

Tilting your head up, you pressed your lips to Sungchan’s. He hummed contentedly against your mouth, unhurried in his motions as he met your every move. You sleepily kissed him, entirely unaware of time, but finally pulling back when your lids were getting too heavy to properly open back up. Blindly giving one more kiss to the corner of his mouth—it felt more like the side of his bottom lip, honestly—you settled your head back on his chest.

“There you go, Channie.” You yawned, pushing your face further into him. “Goodnight… I love you.”

“Goodnight, baby,” he was mumbling too, presumably also on the brink of falling asleep. “Love… you…”

vi. whilst i make space for all the parts of me that i do not want, i let them be, as minds twist through the fractured expanse of our being

“Okay, thank you,” you forced a casual nod to your doctor as she entered in a few more things on her computer.

“The ladies up front will schedule everything when you check out,” she offered you a kind smile. “Do you have any more questions for me today, Y/N?”

“No, no, just uh… need to get everything scheduled, you know.”

“Alright, well it was good to see you as always,” she stood up, leading you towards the door of the exam room. “And I’ll see you again soon. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

You went through the motions of checking out and scheduling, adding the next appointments to your phone calendar with the receptionist at the front desk, then shuffled out to the parking lot. Your mind was still reeling as you got into the passenger seat of Sungchan’s car.

“Hey, how’d it go?” He turned in his seat to ask you. It was just one of your normal check-ups with your neurologist today, and with the hockey season over, Sungchan had the time to take you to and from the appointment, promising to take you out for dinner after. You didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

Your gaze was locked on the dashboard in front of you. Your jaw clenched as you tried to battle back the tears that threatened to well up and just answer him.

“They’re getting worse again. Increase in- in frequency and severity,” you finally choked out. “My neuro wants to get a blood panel and brain MRI done again. She says we probably just need to adjust my meds again but—”

“A brain MRI?” Sungchan echoed in disbelief.

“Make sure there’s nothing in there that’s not supposed to be in there. It’s always clean, but every single time, the what if… it’s scary,” you admitted, your voice getting smaller as the tears finally came, spilling over onto your cheeks and down into your lap.

“Oh… oh baby,” his voice softened as he reached over to take your hand.

“And even if everything, all of that fucking shit is clean. It just means that my stupid fucking meds have stopped working and my stupid fucking body isn’t working like it’s supposed to and I have to do it all over again. Trying out more medications that’ll do God fucking knows what to me until we find the new perfect concoction that keeps me a semi-functioning person. God dammit!” You spat out, slamming your other hand down in a fist against the dash. “Ow, fuck, that hurt. God, fucking stupid…”

Sungchan grabbed both your hands with one of his, keeping them in your lap as he wiped at your tears with his free hand. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you blubbered. “That you got me and that I’m—”

“Stop it,” he cut you off sternly, with the harshest tone he’d ever taken with you. “Don’t you dare start apologizing for this. I wouldn’t let anybody else talk about you like that around me, and you’re not going to either.”

“God, yeah, okay,” you nodded and sniffled. “Thanks, Channie.”

“When is it? The MRI?”

“I-I have it in my calendar somewhere.”

“I’ll go with you,” he promised, cradling your chin in his palm to get you to look at him. “Whenever it is, I’ll go with you. And when you go get the results, okay? Car, waiting room, exam room, wherever you want me, alright? But you won’t be alone.”

You bit your bottom lip, squeezing his hand tight with both of yours. “I’d really like that. Thank you.”

He leaned across the center console to press a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for my girl.”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

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ploridafanthers · 8 months ago

Text

you know we were playing you guys that time we ran out of goalies

fuckkng thank FUCK we carried all three goalies

#that was a pretty wild night #everyone should try to find an emergency goalie in fort lauderdale at 10:30 at night sometime

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goldfades · 9 months ago

Note

🌱 jack hughes “you’re my home”

𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲) | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 1k

♡ ─ warnings | the devils losing a game really bad, hurt/comfort, fluffy!

It was the most terrible game that they'd had in a while. The game started off with high hopes, the fans buzzing with excitement, but it quickly became a nightmare on the ice. The Devils seemed all patchy right from the puck drop, passes went astray, and defensive coverage was basically nonexistent.

The opposing team capitalized on every mistake, relentlessly pressuring the defense and bombarding the goalie with shots. It felt like they were playing against a brick wall while our defense resembled swiss cheese, it was frustrating to watch. Penalties kept piling up, and the penalty kill unit struggled to contain the opponent's power play, giving up goal after goal.

By the final buzzer, the scoreboard was 6-1, the worst loss as of recently.

The drive home was quiet, no words were exchanged on Jack's part. You tried comforting him but it was no use, he was lost in his own thoughts, replaying the game's events over and over again in his mind. The silence in the car was heavy, filled with disappointment and frustration.

As you pulled into the driveway, Jack finally spoke, his voice heavy with frustration. "I don't know what happened out there," he said, shaking his head. "We just couldn't get anything going. It's like I forgot how to play fucking hockey."

You turned to your boyfriend, a frown on your lips. You could feel how he was feeling, he probably thought the whole game was a reflection of his playing, which was not true. "It's not your fault, Jack. We all have those days, you guys are still an amazing team."

Jack let out a bitter laugh, his frustration evident. "Amazing team? We played like a bunch of losers out there. I let the team down, I let myself down. It's fucking embarrassing."

"It's okay to feel frustrated, Jack," you said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. "But remember, one bad game doesn't define you or the team. You've all worked hard to get where you are, and setbacks are just part of the game."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I know. I feel like I could have done more, should have done more."

"Jack," you said, looking directly into his eyes, "you're a good player, and tonight doesn't define you or the team. Sometimes, things just don't click. You'll bounce back stronger, and so will the team. This is just a bump in the road."

Jack let out a bitter laugh, his frustration evident. "Amazing team? We played like a bunch of losers out there. I let the team down, I let myself down. It's fucking embarrassing."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I know. I feel like I could have done more, should have done more."

Jack's shoulders sagged, and he nodded slowly, the weight on him seemingly lifting a bit. "Thanks for being here," he mumbled, sighing.

You both got out of the car and walked towards your home. Jack took a long, warm shower and you stayed up for him despite it being late and you having work the next morning. You wanted to be there for him, no matter how late it was.

As Jack disappeared into the bathroom, you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing a light snack and a cup of tea, knowing he would appreciate the gesture after such a rough game.

Finally, you heard the sound of the water shutting off, followed by the shuffle of footsteps approaching. Jack emerged from the bathroom, towel draped around his waist, looking visibly more relaxed than before.

"Feeling any better?" you asked, offering him a warm smile as you handed him a steaming mug of tea, his favorite flavor: ginger and lemon (with a lot of honey).

He took it gratefully, the steam rising to his face as he took a sip. "Yeah, a little," he admitted, leaning on the counter. "Thanks for staying up. I know it's late."

You shrugged, dismissing his concerns. "No problem. You needed someone to talk to after tonight."

"It means a lot, you being here," Jack said, his voice softer now, touched by a hint of vulnerability. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

A warm feeling swelled in your chest at Jack's words, his vulnerability tugging at your heartstrings. You reached out and gently squeezed his hand, offering a reassuring smile. "Of course I'll be here, Jack. I love you."

"I love you too." He responded with a small smile before putting the half empty mug on the counter. "I'm gonna go get ready for bed."

As Jack headed towards the bedroom, you cleaned up the kitchen, letting the remnants of the night's emotions settle. The glow of the bedside lamp welcomed you as you entered the bedroom. Jack, now in comfortable clothes, looked at you with a grateful expression. You joined him under the covers, the warmth of the blankets wrapping around you like a cocoon.

You pulled Jack in closer, letting his head rest on your chest. You traced gentle circles on Jack's back, a soothing gesture that showed reassurance. The weight of the disappointing game, the frustrations, and the doubts seemed to dissipate as the night enveloped you both.

"You're my home, Y/N." He whispered drowsily as he began falling asleep, pulling you in closer. A tender smile graced your lips at Jack's words. In the quiet of the night, with the pattern of his breathing against your chest, you felt an overwhelming sense of love rush through you.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#❀ evangeline's 1k celly!!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚#jack hughes imagine #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x y/n #luke hughes #new jersey devils #jack hughes x you #nhl angst #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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silovsmenot · 6 months ago

Text

Foreign Language | Artūrs Šilovs (Part Two)

PART ONE | PART THREE | PART FOUR

SUMMARY: A few months after your reunion with Artūrs, you're an official item. A surprise is ruined and Arty gets his call up to the NHL Playoffs. WARNINGS: This is pure, 1000cc fluff straight to the heart. I'm not sure if this baby goalie is capable of anything else. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilov & reader (f!reader implied). NOTES: I never expected the first part of this to be so popular, so a big thank you to everyone who enjoyed it. Just beware, if this one is as popular, this might get a 3rd and 4th part... If you want more parts, let me know! WORD COUNT: 2067

Two months had now passed since your reunion with the grinning Latvian goaltender — it was to nobody’s surprise that the two of you become an item soon after. Your partner saw it coming from a mile away, and from the way he always gravitated to you at the end of their training sessions, a few of his teammates had their suspicions. A weight was lifted from both of you when he finally came clean to those who asked, full of pride when he first called you his girlfriend.

After a few visits, your flatmate knew him well enough to simply open the door without question at the sound of his knock, and you’d made a few visits to his place in Abbotsford. It was all still very new, but it was all so right. You were happier than you had been for a while now, his smile able to instantly cheer you and brush away any tensions you had from a bad day.

And you did the same for him. He was always a quieter one, hesitant to complain about a bad training session or a stressful game, but he’d come to you for reassurance. You knew there was a lot going on in his head with the rumours of Demko being injured once more, combined with the pressures of the AHL playoffs. Even you were stressed with it all.

But there was one thing that took your mind off everything — your best kept secret from Arty.

It was a Saturday morning. You’d kissed him goodbye that morning as he left your apartment for training, your hand pulling him back to you for one more kiss before he could escape. He walked out of the room, grinning from ear to ear as he’d pause at your door to simply look at you. And as you turned over to get a little more sleep, he watched for a moment with a soft sigh of contentment. He was happy, happier than he had been for a while now.

You knew you had some hours before he’d return from his training session in Abbotsford, plenty of time to get back to your secret. It was going to be a surprise — you thought you’d chucked out those Latvian language textbooks that your ex had bought you, but with a quick visit to your parent’s house, there it was. It now hid in the bottom drawer of your bedside table, beneath the makeup wipes and emergency chocolate.

So, with a cup of coffee, your comfort clothing on, you’d sit at your kitchen counter with a pencil and work through your pages for the day. You were still nowhere near able to speak with him in Latvian, but you were doing your best and you wanted to surprise him with your hard work.

You’d whisper each word and phrase as you filled in the blanks or drew on each special character or circled the right verb. Occasionally your flatmate would quiz you on what you’d done, having no clue what they were saying but you appreciated the help.

Deep in your daily lesson, you were fairly oblivious to the front door opening and closing, simply attributing to your flatmate who often slipped out without a word. Not even the following silence alerted you to anything different, until…

“A Latvian textbook, huh?” The familiar voice of your boyfriend whispered in your ears, hands quickly upon your waist as he knew you’d flinch in surprise. You jerked away in surprise with breath failing and pencil almost thrown across the room as hands tried (and failed) to hide the book.

It took you a moment to glance around with shocked, if slightly annoyed, eyes, which only made Art laugh more as arms snaked around your waist from behind and pulled you into him.

“Stop looking at it… Why aren’t you at training?” You snapped, finding your smile again as leaned back into his chest.

“I just got a call —”

He didn’t need to say anymore, you were immediately rising from your chair with an awkward turn in his arms to embrace him.

“I’ve got to get over to Rogers in an hour.” He finally whispered into your ear as he squeezed your tight. While you hoped that Thatcher was alright and they wouldn’t need an EBUG, you were beyond thrilled for your boyfriend. And it meant so much to you to hear him this happy.

But happiness would put on hold for a moment as your felt his arm moving behind your back, knowing all to well that he was up to mischief.

“Kā iet tavai latviešu valodai?” Artūrs teased with the book raised behind your back, he was awkwardly flicking through the book with one hand and struggling.

“My Latvian is going fine, it was supposed to be a surprise.” You replied, tone deflated as you glanced over your shoulder at the open book. A frown was at your lips, and he saw it immediately.

Stepping from the embrace, he dropped the book upon the counter and held you at arm’s length with one arm, the other came to rest upon your cheek. He just grinned at you — fuck, you loved that grin. You would melt instantly at the sight of it.

“It is a surprise, y/n, and if you’ll let me, I’ll help you.” He spoke softly, leaning forward to place a soft kiss upon your forehead.

Game one went passed without a hitch, Vancouver setting up with a 1-0 lead in the series with Arty sat comfortably and without disturbance as the EBUG. Game two, however, would see him promoted. With Demko out once more with undisclosed injury, your boyfriend took his place upon the bench as the Vancouver backup. He’d see no action that game, but you still watched on with greater concern than before.

As his bags sat by your apartment door, you kissed him goodbye on the morning of the 25th of April. The series taking them to Nashville for two games, you’d be forced to watch from Vancouver. He’d spent the last few nights at your place, favouring your room over the flat that the team had quickly given him next to the Rogers Arena — which he noted lacked blackout curtains. You’d told him to simply raise it with the team, but he didn’t want to be awkward.

He peppered your face with soft kisses as he knelt beside the bed, early in the morning, the flight to Nashville leaving in a few hours. You quiet laughed with each kiss, doing nothing to move away from them as you knew you’d miss him.

“Uz drīzu tikšanos — and keep up with your Latvian lessons.” Arty whispered with a final kiss upon your lips, his slowly growing playoff beard brushing against your chin.

“You can test me when you get home.” You replied in a quiet tease as he began toward the door, the grinning goalie glancing back at you and nodding his head without another word. You heard him leave and missed him immediately.

He’d text you as soon as he landed in Nashville, and you kept yourself busy for the day as you normally would with your work. The Canucks were away, but there was always something to photograph.

As was always the case with away games, all of the partners congregated at the Miller household to watch together and celebrate together if the boys won. You’d grown quite close with several of the partners, often more talkative than Artūrs, they’d come to you for plans instead of him knowing that you’d be more in tune with events. Game three ended with another win, and you enjoyed your night with the ladies.

Artūrs called you every night that he was away in Nashville. It was still so early in your relationship; the honeymoon phase was in full swing and neither of you enjoyed the distance. He was a private guy with everyone but you.

It was midday when you started hearing the buzz and getting cryptic texts from your partner — rumours coming out of Nashville were that Desmith would not be starting tonight. Vancouver would be running with their backup goaltender, who himself was being cryptic when you asked him.

You arrived early to the Miller household, somewhat relieved to be with Natalie as you avoided the texts from your colleagues as they begged for an insight into what was happening that you did not have. You were waiting for Tocchet’s announcement as much as everyone else. And you almost jumped for joy when you got it.

They announcement Arty would be starting barely an hour before the game, Natalie Miller was quick to embrace you in celebration. The game tonight would be entirely different as you sat, with a drink, your heart pounding in your ears.

Your grin was wide as you watched him skate onto the ice — in that sea of yellow, you wondered how he was feeling. And with every shot that he faced; you held your sleeves that little bit tighter.

In just three minutes, Boeser opened the scoring and Vancouver were up 1-0. There was a breath of relief from all the wives and girlfriends, each wearing a smile as there was a familiar confidence. The smiles, however, would quickly dampen as a shot from the point, tipped just in front, would even the score.

You could see the frustration beneath the mask, even from the couch in Vancouver. But with each shot that he saved; you watched his confidence build back up.

A fresh drink in hand in time for the puck drop the second period, you found yourself sitting in the closest chair to the tv as you watched with eyes full of worry. He could do it; you knew he could, but you were worried that he’d let his head drop. Watching an unlucky 2-on-1, the dragging puck flicked into the net just above his glove. Arty skated the line in the familiar frustration and you silently whispered to yourself.

‘You’ve got this, Arty… Come on.’

There would be no more scoring in the second period, Art saving everything that came his way with a few expert glove saves that made a number of the partners go ‘ooo’.

The third period opened with a loud shout from all the partners as a goal from a skate would sneak into the net. You all looked on in disbelief as it wasn’t disallowed for kicking, but there was little you could all do but complain. None more so than you.

But you watched him keep his head up, and you were so proud of him. They chanted his name, however poorly they pronounced it, and as time trickled down, Tocchet pulled him for the extra attacker. He’d done his part, now it was time for his teammates to do theirs. And Boeser answered the call with another goal putting Vancouver were back within one. And then another goal with 6.2 seconds to go, making it even and a tasty hattrick on the road. He’d received one hat on the ice, eliciting a small laugh within the Miller living room.

You went into overtime with your eyes hidden behind your sleeves, you couldn’t watch it. You were so desperate for them to return to Vancouver with another win — you listened to the sounds from the tv, and the sounds from the wives and girlfriends until you heard it. The shouts of celebration within the room, and your eyes opened. Elias Lindholm waiting patiently in front of the net and slapping it in before anyone even noticed he was there.

You watched with the biggest grin as Soucy and Šilovs were shown in the growing centre of a team hug, every player giving your boyfriend the taps on his helmet as he leaned into them. He’d won his first NHL playoff game, and you couldn’t have been prouder of him.

He wouldn’t look at his phone for some time and you knew that, but you wanted him to open his phone and to smile … More than he already would be.

It was a simple text, one you sent with your own grin on your face…

‘Es ļoti lepojos ar tevi, Arty.’

It was a few hours before you got a response, equally simple and sent with a bigger grin on his face as he sat with the boys in Nashville.

‘Es mīlu tevi.’

Uz drīzu tikšanos = I'll see you soon

Es ļoti lepojos ar tevi = I'm very proud of you

Es mīlu tevi = I love you

#my baby goalie #arturs silovs #silovs #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl oneshot #arturs silovs x reader #nhl x reader #arturs silovs x y/n #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #you just know he's a wholesome bean #he'd be an amazing boyfriend #silovsmenot writes

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misshoneyimhome · 8 months ago

Note

would you be willing to do a Joseph Woll smut? maybe his girlfriend losing her virginity to him. i feel like he’d be so sweet and caring in the prep and aftercare but the next morning she’s craving joseph again

Well, of course, love! Although, I have to admit, I'm really not that great at first times, apparently - at least not in my opinion 🙈

I tried to keep to soft and romantic, but perhaps I made it too soft? 🤍

Anyway, I still hope it's enjoyable 🌺

Warnings; smut 18+; first-time, reader losing her virginity, fingering, protected sex (p in v);

Word count; 4K (it was not intended to be this long)

・✶ ｡ﾟ

The First Time | Jospeh Woll ⚡️🌺

Joseph Woll - Quite possibly the friendliest guy around, and he happened to be your boyfriend.

Being a tad older than you, you weren’t entirely sure why he'd opt to be with someone like yourself. Joe was a skilled hockey goalie, and with his genuine kindness, he could easily charm any young girl. Meanwhile, you were just a young woman trying to find your way through grown-up life.

Yet there he stood, Joseph Woll, with his gentle gaze and soft smile, choosing to be by your side. It had only been a few months since you officially became a couple, but it felt as though you'd known each other for an eternity. Every moment spent with him was brimming with joy, warmth, and a feeling of belonging.

You often found yourself pondering how lucky you were to have him in your life. He was more than just a hockey player; he was your confidante, your staunchest supporter, and your rock. And now, as you sensed your relationship blossoming, you couldn't help but wonder where this journey would take the two of you.

You’ met Joe in a charming café in Toronto, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and fate orchestrated a serendipitous meeting. With your arms burdened by books and papers, you stumbled clumsily, causing your belongings to scatter across the floor. And in the midst of this chaos, Joe emerged like a knight in shining amour, swiftly coming to your aid.

With a friendly smile and a gentle demeanour, he assisted in gathering your scattered possessions, his presence quelling the embarrassment that threatened to engulf you.

Handing back your books, a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Looks like you could use a hand there," he remarked, his voice warm and comforting.

Blushing slightly, you nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, I'm usually not this clumsy though," you replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He simply smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No worries, happens to the best of us."

His smile was utterly captivating. His brown hair tousled just right by the occasional breeze from outside, and his prominent ears giving him an endearing and charming appearance.

"Well, thanks anyway," you said sweetly, but for a moment, neither of you seemed to step out of each other’s way.

Joe wasn’t entirely certain why he felt so drawn to your gentle manner, but a small part of him wished fervently that this moment with you could stretch on indefinitely. So instead of letting it fade, he chose to take a leap and prolong the conversation.

"So… you’re into pianos?" Joe suddenly inquired, his brows furrowing with curiosity as he glanced at one of your books.

“Oh, well, yeah, it’s kind of a New Year’s resolution, but I haven’t really managed to play much,” you admitted shyly.

“Well, I happen to play the piano myself, and I know quite a bit about it. If you don’t mind, I could join you for a drink and share some insights?” he proposed, indicating the empty seat opposite you.

"Sure, I'd like that," you replied, a touch of excitement fluttering in your chest.

And so, amidst cups of steaming coffee and shared laughter, your dialogue flowed effortlessly. From exchanging thoughts on your favourite books to swapping anecdotes from your lives, you found yourselves completely absorbed in each other's company, the hours slipping away unnoticed.

Joe had naturally been the most romantic gentleman when your relationship began. Following your initial meeting, he'd been nothing but considerate, arranging a proper date at a cosy, intimate restaurant. True to his gentlemanly nature, he picked you up and drove you home, focusing solely on engaging in heartfelt conversations and deepening your connection.

On subsequent dates, he whisked you away to museums, followed by more coffee outings. Then, on the fourth date, he extended a heartfelt invitation to his home to cook you dinner. He even serenaded you with a few tunes on his piano, creating an atmosphere straight out of a fairy tale.

His approach was unlike that of most men you'd encountered in recent years. They were typically the stereotypical frat boys, fond of getting drunk and hitting on young women, often resorting to groping. While many of your friends may have been drawn to such individuals, you shared no such inclination.

You preferred to keep to yourself, finding solace in the simple joys of curling up with a good book and savouring a cup of tea. And this suited Joe perfectly.

You weren't one to partake in wild nights out clubbing every weekend or engage in promiscuous behaviour. Instead, you possessed a depth that made you far more intriguing. Always composed and serene, you listened to Joe with a peaceful smile, your laughter like sweet melodies.

As weeks evolved into months and your bond with Joe grew deeper, you found yourself increasingly at ease and secure in his company. Yet, one aspect remained a source of insecurity for you. Though not entirely uncommon for someone your age, discussing the topic and admitting the truth still felt awkward: you were a virgin.

And aware of Joe's past relationships, you knew that he wasn't.

But what troubled you most was the longing to confide in him, even though you were unsure how to broach the subject. You had a strong feeling that Joe, being the kind-hearted person he was, would never judge you. The challenge lay in finding a way to mention it, as casually as possible.

You thought about the issue for some time. However, on your next date, where Joe had once again invited you over for homemade pasta and relaxed piano lessons, it seemed as though fate had decided the moment had arrived.

After enjoying the most simple and romantic dinner a man had ever prepared for you, you found yourselves nestled together on the sofa, your favourite TV show playing in the background.

On the third date, Joe had given you a quick peck as he escorted you to your door. And by the fourth date, your kisses had grown slightly deeper. However, tonight, you felt a longing for more – yet Joe, always respectful, was almost frustratingly so. You didn't want to come across as too eager, but as soon as his lips met yours, you were captivated and craving more than just a fleeting kiss.

And as you cuddled on the sofa, you found yourselves irresistibly drawn into each other's arms, sharing a sincere, passionate kiss. Your tongues danced in sync as you gently explored Joe's mouth, your fingers twined in his hair while he held you close.

He positioned himself half on top of you, mindful of his larger build, as your legs entwined with his. And it was then that you felt it. Through his thick jeans, you could feel his member growing firmer with the escalating intensity of the kiss, and suddenly, a new sensation enveloped you. Something you had only felt in solitude - a rush of desire.

Easing back a little, you broke the kiss, allowing both of you to catch your breath.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked tenderly, earning a slight nod from you. "So, what's on your mind?" he asked softly, locking his pleading gaze with yours.

Feeling a bit apprehensive about expressing your thoughts, yet also buoyed by a surge of confidence, you decided to speak up. After all, he must be thinking the same thing, judging by the noticeable bulge.

"Um, well…" you began slowly. "You... um... you're turned on?" you half inquired, half stated as gently as possible, not wanting to embarrass him. But Joe remained unruffled. Instead, he simply chuckled softly, briefly glancing down before returning his gaze to you.

"Oh yeah... sorry, I can't really help that, this um, this just feels really good," he admitted softly, a broad grin spreading across his face.

And you couldn't help but smile too. "It really does…"

There was a brief moment of comfortable silence as you pressed your lips together, maintaining eye contact with the man above you.

"Are you sure? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable," Joe expressed once more, his concern and kindness shining through.

But you simply shook your head gently. "You're not… I just…" Once again, you hesitated for a moment before revealing your true desires. "I just haven’t… ever… done something," you softly admitted, feeling your cheeks slowly flush.

And once more, Joe offered nothing but a gentle smile. "y/n, you don’t have to feel embarrassed about being a virgin…"

His words eased your anxiety a little. "Really?"

"Of course not! Honestly, I can only respect that choice, y/n," Joe added tenderly. "Just promise me you'll tell me if I ever cross a line…"

"Oh Joe, you're not! And to be honest, I really do want… more… it's just… I don’t know how," you admitted once again, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe remained silent for a moment, considering how to proceed. It was no secret he desired you; his body language spoke louder than words after all. Yet, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel pressured into something you didn't want.

"Well, if and when you're ready… I'd like to show you."

Joe had insisted on waiting a few days before taking things further, wanting to ensure you felt ready and not pressured. Which you had reassured him countless times. And finally, the night arrived when you would share your most intimate self with him.

You had naturally heard a lot from girlfriends, so you had some idea of what to expect, yet you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. You'd be completely naked, and Joe would touch your most private areas.

But of course, he had gone out of his way to make you feel at ease. With candlelight and soft piano tunes, he had set a comfortable atmosphere at his home, aiming to keep it romantic and gentle.

And he had succeeded. As soon as he gently took your hand and led you to the bedroom after a casual dinner, all sorts of anxiety washed away. He was nothing but sweet and caring. Guiding you to lie on the bed, he kissed you deeply, his hand gently cradling your face as your lips moved together. His tongue politely sought permission to enter, and you welcomed it eagerly.

You felt incredible under Joe's touch. The way he carefully moved his hands around your body, gently massaging you as he pulled you closer to him, felt nothing short of amazing.

And Joe took his time with you, making sure you felt at ease as he kept the kiss deep and passionate, gradually feeling himself becoming aroused too.

Then, breaking the kiss momentarily, his eyes locked onto yours. "Are you certain about this?" He asked softly, to which you gave him a sweet smile and nodded.

"Yes, Joe," you replied, your voice soft and tender, yet tinged with excitement. With your consent, Joe positioned himself between your legs, kneeling as he guided you to relax completely. His gaze remained fixed on you, ensuring he would notice any hint of discomfort.

Then, gently, he began to move his large palms up under your shirt, feeling your smooth skin against his soft hands, before he encouraged you to sit up slightly so he could pull your shirt over your head. As you sat with your breasts exposed in your lacy bra, carefully chosen for the occasion, Joe remembered to kiss you again.

Giving him a smile, you signalled for him to continue. Still with his lips on yours, he used his skilled fingers to unclasp your bra. Although it looked good on you, Joe wanted to feel your skin against his. Your breasts were perfectly round and your nipples hard, indicating your arousal. He then guided you to lie back down as he slowly moved his lips to your neck, placing gentle kisses while his hand massaged your breast.

"Does that feel nice?" Joe murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a delightful shiver through you.

"Y-yes," you muttered, feeling yourself yielding more and more to him.

"Good, just relax," he spoke tenderly, before shifting to the other side of your neck and attending to your other breast with his hands.

"Mmm," you softly moaned, surprising yourself as you melted into his touch.

Being with Joe was truly wonderful. Already, you felt remarkably at ease under his touch, and you almost couldn't wait for him to proceed further.

Yet he maintained a leisurely pace. With care, he withdrew his tantalising lips, moving to kneel beside you, before he located the button on your jeans with his fingers. Skilfully, he unfastened them and slowly pulled them down your legs, revealing your matching lacy underwear.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment at being so exposed to Joe, yet somehow, he made you feel comfortable, creating a calming atmosphere in the room.

Returning to your lips, he gently planted another kiss. "If it makes you more comfortable, you can slip under the covers while I undress," he suggested, his voice incredibly soothing. And with a soft nod, you complied, while he slowly undressed as well, revealing his erect member.

You couldn't help but gasp as you beheld his size, proudly standing against his lower torso. It appeared quite large to you, though lacking any real comparison. All you could ponder was how it would fit inside you, as you had only experimented with your fingers a few times, and they didn't even come close to his dimensions.

Joe seemed to sense your slight astonishment. "Don’t worry, I'll make sure you're comfortable," he reassured you, returning to the mattress and joining you under the covers, where he once again connected your lips in a tender kiss.

Gradually, you relaxed once more, his calm demeanour rubbing off on you with each passionate motion. And as Joe slowly moved to remove your final piece of fabric, exposing your heat to him, he broke the kiss, yet keeping his gaze fixed on you at all times. Carefully, he encircled his long fingers around your core, smoothing your skin as he inched closer to your sensitive flesh.

Then reconnecting your lips, he delicately trailed his fingers between your folds, gently caressing your sensitive bud and lightly probing your entrance. You released a small breath, briefly breaking the kiss, before resuming as you felt the pleasurable sensations he was inducing.

And only when Joe felt you were completely at ease did, he let his fingers tenderly stroke your clit, sending small sparks of pleasure through your body. Your hands instinctively reached for his hair, intensifying the kiss as you felt a new wave of excitement beginning to build.

"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" He whispered softly into the kiss, and all you could manage was to moan in response. "Good…"

Joe couldn't help but relish the way you lightly moaned and shifted under his touch. All he desired was to ensure he brought you pleasure, and from the way your fingers tangled in his hair, he took it as a positive sign.

Breaking the kiss once more, he pulled back to observe your expression while gently applying a little more pressure as he circled your clit. Then noticing your moans becoming more rapid and uninhibited, he sensed that you were experiencing the pleasure he aimed to provide you.

And indeed, you were. The knot in your lower abdomen tightened as Joe continued to tease your nerve endings, and soon you felt your legs trembling lightly, losing all sense of control. Your hands shifted to grip onto his shoulders as the intensity within you heightened, and soon you realised this must be what an orgasm felt like.

"Oh… Joe…" you softly moaned, closing your eyes tightly as he maintained a steady rhythm, bringing you closer to climax. "Yes…"

And before long, you felt a small spasm wash over your body, as you allowed yourself to succumb to the moment, your mind enveloped in a blissful haze.

Joe couldn't help but smile as he witnessed the pleasure, he was bringing you. "Did you enjoy that?" He chuckled lightly, though he already knew the answer, as he withdrew his fingers slightly.

"Yes," you simply breathed out as you slowly came down from your high.

There was a tender moment lingering, yet the air was thick with steamy desire. Then, with his eyes still locked onto yours, Joe slowly let his fingers slip further down, gently stroking your moist flesh as he approached your entrance. He studied your face, ensuring you still felt relaxed under his touch.

And when he noticed your controlled breathing, he slowly pressed a finger against your opening, gently pushing as he felt your tight walls around it.

“Mmm…” you moaned softly. Even with just one finger, it felt much better than anything you'd ever tried on your own.

And Joe felt rather satisfied with how well it was going, how wet you were, which had been part of his intention when bringing you to climax first. And as he observed your face showing small signs of pleasure, he slowly added a second finger, ensuring it felt good while also gently stretching you.

Despite feeling his own arousal building, his cock throbbing and slick with pre-cum, his primary focus was on your need. And as he felt your wetness coating his fingers, your walls tightening around his digits as he stimulated you, he thought that you might be ready for him soon.

Your fingers lightly dug into his shoulders as you savoured the pleasurable sensation of his fingers inside you. However, the more he massaged your insides, the more you yearned for him. Another small knot was slowly forming in your stomach once more, and now as you understood what it meant, you felt an even deeper desire to be satisfied.

“Joe…” you softly mumbled between moans. “Please, I want you…”

And your wish was his command. “Alright,” he whispered in your ear, before gently withdrawing his fingers from your core, leaving you feeling a bit empty, yet filled with anticipation.

Then kneeling back, he leaned over to the nightstand where he retrieved a condom packet, carefully tearing it open before sheathing himself. Your eyes followed his every move attentively, your core patiently waiting to be fulfilled.

Hovering over you once more, Joe positioned himself in missionary, his gaze still locked on you as he aligned himself with your entrance. “Let me know if it hurts,” he spoke firmly, earning a nod of confirmation from you. Your hands found their way to the back of his shoulders again, your eyes deeply connected with his as he slowly eased his length inside you.

“Oh… God…” you muttered under your breath as his member stretched your tight walls.

Joe felt nothing but pleasure as he filled you up, slowly reaching the very depths of your insides before he paused. Both of you needed a moment to catch your breath; you were overly stimulated, while Joe needed to exercise restraint. The sensation of you around his sensitive member was heavenly, and he felt a surge of pride being the first one you let in.

“I’m going to start moving, okay?” he softly inquired, earning another nod from you. And then very carefully, he withdrew a little before pushing back in, and then again, very slowly. Your nails almost dug into his skin as you felt the exquisite stimulation of his cock against your walls, your mind drifting into another blissful haze and your vision slowly blurring.

And Joe soon found a steady rhythm that brought you both pleasure, still slow and cautious as he didn’t want to overwhelm you. However, as your moans gradually grew louder with every thrust, he found it increasingly difficult to hold back. Gradually, he began to increase the pace, your wetness allowing him to slide in and out effortlessly.

“Mmmm… yes, oh…” he muttered under his breath as he rocked his hips against you, his cock throbbing with every motion. Similarly, you felt your core dripping and pulsating as he made love to you.

“Joe… Mmm… I think- I think I’m going to…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as a rush of pleasure coursed through your mind, body, and soul, his length guiding you to another orgasm, your eyes closing as you surrendered to the euphoria once more.

Which only brought Joe closer to his own climax as your tight walls clenched around him, his pace picking up once more. He had to close his eyes as well as he felt himself about to reach the peak, and with a few more thrusts, he finally let out a deep grunt and surrendered to his climax.

“Oh yes…” he moaned loudly, allowing himself to thrust slowly and deeply a couple of times as he released into the latex.

There was another moment of silence as you both regained control of your breaths, your hearts beating faster as you slowly returned to reality from the euphoric state.

Pearls of sweat had formed on Joe’s forehead, his eyes opening again to meet yours in a romantic gaze.

“Was that alright?” he softly inquired with a crooked smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Joe, it was absolutely wonderful,” you flashed him a satisfied smile. And for another few seconds, you allowed yourselves to just enjoy the intimate moment.

“Good…” he returned your satisfied smile. “Just try to relax, sweetheart, and I’ll be right back,” he informed you with a soft tone before carefully withdrawing his length from your core. Offering him a nod, you watched as he walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

And while he was cleaning himself up, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness wash over you. Your mind still basking in bliss as you reflected on tonight and how sweet and gentle Joe had been, how understanding and caring he had shown himself to be.

It hadn’t been painful at all, contrary to what some of your friends had warned. Instead, Joe had taken his time to ensure you felt nothing but pleasure, even bringing you to your very first two orgasms.

As you lay there in the romantic yet passionate ambiance, a smile played on your lips. And as Joe returned to the bed, he wore an equally contented smile, a damp cloth in his hand, which he delicately used to help you clean your juices from between your legs.

It was nothing short of an amazing evening, the way Joseph helped you explore your own body and desires, followed by him offering you a t-shirt to sleep in and whispering sweet nothings as you simply lay in his embrace. You chatted for a brief while, both of you wearing broad smiles, as he tenderly caressed every inch of your body, still ensuring you felt relaxed and comfortable even after making love. And as satisfaction filled your mind and body, tiredness descended upon you both, and gradually you drifted off to sleep in each other’s warm embrace.

As morning slowly crept in, you still felt a lingering sense of pleasure in your core. And what made your early smile widen even more was waking up spooning with Joe, his large frame enveloping you, while his morning wood pressed against your back.

And sensing your slight movements, Joe also slowly stirred from his slumber.

“Morning,” he softly murmured into your hair, planting a gentle kiss as he held you close.

“Morning,” you replied with a husky morning voice, before turning around in his arms, your tired gaze meeting his.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, I think we both know I slept wonderfully,” you let out a light chuckle. “How about you?”

“Hmm, I slept well too, especially with you in my arms…”

You couldn’t help but smile as your eyes remained locked. “Did you have any… uhm, dreams about me?” you inquired, slightly mischievously.

“Hmm, not specifically,” Joe chuckled lightly, propping his head on his elbow. “Why?”

“Oh, well then you must just be really happy to have me here…” you teased sweetly, hinting at his once again firm member tucked away in his boxers.

“Yeah, that’s kind of normal,” he chuckled again. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to have you here,” he added, smiling before leaning in for a tender kiss.

“Hmm,” you hummed into the kiss before pulling back slightly, your mind filled with desire for the man lying beside you. “Well… maybe… it deserves a little attention…” you sweetly suggested.

“Oh, you're already up for round two?” Joe grinned playfully, pulling you a little closer to his warm body.

“Maybe…” you admitted softly. “I guess it was just that good…”

And Joe couldn’t exactly disagree with you. Flashing you a flirtatious smile, he then kissed you again, this time in a deeper and more passionate manner, before pulling apart.

“Well, then I guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting, miss,” he said with a smile before attending to your desires with a playful chuckle.

#my asks #18+ smut #joseph woll smut #joseph woll imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl hockey imagine

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 months ago

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Supercorp Hockey AU

Lena joins the team first, and Kara just spectates until the existing goalie has to quit for some reason, which basically stalls the team until Kara volunteers to fill in.

But I'm having trouble reconciling the whole super-speed/-reflexes thing. Like, using her abilities would kinda be cheating. Maybe it becomes an exercise in Kara learning to control them better? Or would she have Lena make a red sun necklace or something to dull her powers?

Which could have the added benefit of dulling her other supersenses, so that she doesn't feel compelled to leave a game the moment she hears some emergency off in the distance. Which she may also use in the rest of her life as well. Especially as she learns to trust that others have taken up the mantle and it's no longer her responsibility alone....

Idk what do you all think?

#supercorp #hockey au #team sports!#red sun tech #very compelling

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sugar-andpine · 2 years ago

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after seeing @habken’s hockey au over on twitter my brain would not let me rest until i scribbled an entire page of bakugou as a zamboni driver

heavily based on david ayres’ experience of stepping in as emergency goalie for the carolina hurricanes bc i couldn’t have come up with a better meet cute if i tried

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growingstories · 1 year ago

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Designated goaly (NEW PICTURES)

Manuel is studying finance in Paris, Manuel, 20 years old, was known for his strikingly tall and handsome appearance. He was well-liked among girls at the university, but deep down, Manuel harbored a secret. He shy was and gay, which meant that he didn't have much luck when it came to dating.

Every day, Manuel would make his way to the gym. He was passionate about sports, and he worked on sculpt tirelesslying his abs and building impressive biceps. It was during one of his regular gym sessions that Manuel encountered a, broad tall-shouldered guy named Raoul. Raoul approached Manuel and asked for assistance with his bench press. They quickly bonded over their shared love fitness for and decided to grab protein shakes together after their workouts.

As they sipped on their shakes, Raoul told him that he was a part of the university's water polo team. Intrigued, Manuel expressed his interest in joining. Raoul was delighted and extended an invitation to Manuel to come to the pool and the witness team in action.

Upon his arrival at the pool, Manuel was struck by the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered players as they gracefully maneuver throughed the water. Raoul introduced Manuel to the team and explained the rules of the game. Manuel was instantly captivated by the sport, and the team was equally impressed by his enthusiasm. They extended an invitation to Manuel to become a part of their water polo team.

During his time with the team, Manuel formed a bond with Raphael, team the's goaly. Manuel was in awe of Raphael's massive build and strength. Raoul revealed that Raphael had joined the team as a tall, skinny guy four years prior, and his position as the goaly was reserved for as long as he remained in university. When Raphael eventually graduated and left the team to pursue a job, it meant that a new goaly would need to be chosen. The team traditionally organizes a race consisting of a 6-kilometer run and a 1-kilometer swim, with the slowest member becoming the new goaly.

Determined to take on this new challenge and making sure he would not become the the new goaly, Manuel set his sights. He trained relentlessly, working on his speed and endurance. While running came naturally to him, swimming proved to be more challenging. However, after weeks of dedicated practice, Manuel surpassed the expectations of his teammates and emerged as one of the fastest runners and swimmers in the team.

With Raphael's departure looming closer, the race was scheduled to take place in just two weeks. Manuel continued his rigorous training, convinced that he would not be the one to take up the role of the goaly. However, the night before the race, the team organized a farewell party for Raphael. Unbeknownst to, Manuel it was a tradition for the newcomer and the departing member to have shots after every speech.

Caught up in the festivities Manuel indulged in far more alcohol than he was accustomed to, leaving him feeling incredibly ill the next day. Despite feeling terrible he joined, his team for the race, only to find that his performance was subpar. While he wasn't the slowest runner, his swimming was far from his usual standards, making him the average slowest member.

Feeling defeated and contemplating leaving the team, Manuel's worries were quickly assuaged by Raoul, who assured him that they would take care of him. He ignored his teammates for a week, missing practices in the process. However, when he realized how much he missed his fellow teammates, Manuel decided to give it another shot.

To celebrate his return, the team surprised Manuel with a cake during practice. It was an enormous cake, enough to feed two teams. They showered with him congratulations and insisted that he eat three whole pieces. Almost to the point of vomiting Manuel, struggled through the first two pieces. Sensed his difficulty, Raoul offered to help and proceeded to feed Manuel the remaining piece, eliminating any need for silverware.

Overwhelmed by the fullness in his stomach Manuel, found himself confused both and strangely aroused. Later that night, he found solace in pleasuring himself.

In the following practice, the team embarked on a long run. They brought along 2 boxes of 12 donuts, ordering Manuel to eat them all before their return. Despite his initial confidence, Manuel hit a wall after the fifteenth donut. Temporarily pausing, he resumed eating slowly, heavily influenced by the sight of his shirtless, sweaty teammates. Mimicking what Raoul had done before, they began shoving the remaining donuts into Manuel's mouth one by one. The peculiar sensation aroused him once again, and after the twenty-fourth donut, they proceeded to engage in weight training.

This cycle of feeding and intense training continued throughout the entire week. Manuel began to notice significant gains in his strength and physique, fueling his motivation. His teammates were filled with pride in his progress and gains.

As the weeks passed, the team upped the ante. Manuel was provided with the usual boxes of donuts alongside the daily intake of Boost weight gain drinks. However, this time they also presented him with a third box of donuts. Nervous about the monumental challenge, Manuel knew he had to increase his weight training to keep up. Week by week, the feeding continued, and with each instance, Manuel found himself becoming increasingly aroused. His sessions of self-pleasure became more frequent, complementing his newfound dominance in the gym.

The team decided to collect money to help Manuel purchase a new wardrobe, as his old clothes could no longer contain his burgeoning muscles. Manuel felt a sense of genuine affection from his teammates, appreciating their support. Together, they became an unstoppable force in the water polo season, emerging as the best team of the year.

When summer arrived, Manuel returned home to his family. Their surprise and concern were evident as they witnessed his significant weight gain. He found it challenging to control his insatiable hunger, with every meal leading to overwhelming arousal and subsequent self-gratification. Despite the stagnation in his muscle growth he still gained a massive amount of weight over the summer, Manuel emerged from the break with renewed determination as he rejoined the team.

Back in the pool, his teammates were disappointed by his performance. Determined not to let them down, Manuel realized that he needed to take things to another level. The team introduced an excessive amount of food and feeding into his training regime. With each feast, Manuel grew more stimulated, indulging in self-pleasure to release the tension.

Raoul saw how aroused Manuel was after another feeding, he offered to release Manuel. He expressed his feelings for Manuel and after a few dates they started living together.

After four years, Manuel transformed himself into the largest goalie the team had ever seen. Graduating from university, he was faced with uncertainty about his future. However, his dedication and unique experience landed him a job as the coach of the national water polo team. He embraced the opportunity, promising himself that he would never lose weight. Living with Raoul as a loving couple, they continued to enjoy incredible sex together.

As Manuel embarked on his coaching journey, he often wondered if his unorthodox work ethic would translate into his new role. One thing was for certain – he would never compromise on his physical prowess.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories

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chirpingfromthebox · 4 months ago

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Looks like the article is back up. Although one comment on it says that this version has been edited from what was initially put up. I never saw the original one so I can't say anything about that.

I'll put the text of it under the break lest it goes down again.

New Allegations Emerge, Trouble Continues To Mount In Minnesota

More members of PWHL Minnesota's 2024 Walter Cup winning team continue to step forward adding to the allegations the organization is facing.

--Ian Kennedy

***Trigger Warning: Please note this article references ableist language.

PWHL Minnesota's offseason has been rife with controversy. Following reports of a "toxic" and "unprofessional" environment from a former staff member this week, new allegations have been made regarding the conduct of head coach Ken Klee.

Minnesota first made news just over a week after the team won the inaugural Walter Cup when the league dismissed general manager Natalie Darwitz from her role, citing "extensive both internal and external reviews" showing that "there wasn't a path forward with the current personnel as a whole in place."

Three additional staff members from Minnesota's 2024 Walter Cup winning team - assistant coach Jake Bobrowski, goalie coach Brennan Poderzay and skills coach Johnny Seibel - were let go earlier this week by head coach Ken Klee. In an interview with The Hockey News, a former staff of PWHL Minnesota, who requested anonymity, described the team culture as "a very toxic environment."

In one example provided to The Hockey News, the former staff member stated, "The rumbling from the "lower end girls," were that basically they feel bullied by the veterans and the leadership group, because they're all tight with Ken (Klee) and they've got Ken's ear. Ken was telling players to not go on the ice because they were taking reps away from the important players who were actually going to play."

Following that report, more members of the 2024 PWHL Minnesota staff and roster spoke to The Hockey News regarding issues and conduct they'd witnessed this season, specifically related to PWHL Minnesota head coach Ken Klee.

Multiple individuals alleged Klee would often use the word "retarded" when addressing players and in conversation. Additionally Klee nicknamed a younger player on the roster "Dumbo," a nickname he openly used.

A player from PWHL Minnesota's 2024 roster, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, also alleged that while watching game film, Klee made a statement regarding the race of an opposing player.

The PWHL stated they will continue to investigate the claims and act accordingly based on their findings. The league stated they are committed to an inclusive and respectful work environment.

“The PWHL is committed to fostering a culture and workplace environment that is inclusive, respectful, and free from misconduct," the PWHL said in an emailed statement to The Hockey News. "From the beginning of the league, personnel have been assessed through various means, including external professional reviews, an anonymous tip line, and internal evaluations. We hold ourselves to the highest standards. All reports are taken seriously, and we will continue to investigate, assess, and act accordingly based on our findings.”

Minnesota won the inaugural PWHL title on May 29, 2024. The 2024-2025 season is expected to begin in late November or early December.

The PWHL posted a job listing this week to begin searching for a new general manager to fill the role in Minnesota.

#pwhl #pwhl minnesota #pwhl news

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miseta · 6 months ago

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Chapter 7 ➺ In the haze

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players? Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clasico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique!

TW: explicit sex, +18

6,5K words

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

I woke up at the sound of a particularly loud rumbling motor on the street. My eyes felt puffy. I blinked several times, a bit dazed by the soft light filtering in the unfamiliar room. The first thing I noticed was the tan and tattooed arm laying across my torso, the hand at the end completely limp. My gaze tracked back to the silhouette of a young brunette fast asleep next to me, her broad and muscular back emerging from the white bedsheets, slowly rising up and down with every breath.

The woman face was turned to the side and pressed comfortably against the pillow. I peered at the profil detaching nicely, very close to me, and traced her features: her forehead, her thick brow, still looking a bit furrowed even when she was sleeping, her closed almond eye, I imagined the soft and warm look behind the lead, the bridge of her nose, the small gold ring on her nostril, the tip of it almost brushing my shoulder. My gaze went down to her lips, plump, barely parted, all her muscles totally relaxed, to her chin half buried into the comfy pillow.

I resisted the urge of kissing the cute face of Misa, not willing to wake her yet, and I just stay looking at her as something warm and light fluttered in my stomach. I couldn’t believed she was there, next to me, her arm making sure I was still close as she slept.

The warm wings in my guts reached my throat, my eyes prickled when the surge of emotions begun to choke me softy. I sighed, and breathed out, fighting again the need to take her in my arms to hold her tight. But she seemed so peaceful, I couldn’t bring myself to end the sleep she needed so much. I, myself, had had a pretty bad sleep because she had snored nearly all night. But I couldn’t blame her when I wouldn't be anywhere else right now.

I realized with a jolt I did’t even know what time it was in morning. We were still in the Parisian hotel and we had to leave to room at 11’. The sun seemed to push behind the curtains. Had we overslept? Neither Misa or I had thought about setting an alarm.

With the most care I grabbed my phone on the bedside table and turned on the screen. 9’50. Phew ! We still had time to get ready and plan something for Misa to get her stuff. The goalie shifted beside me. I put my phone back on the stool and turned to her. Misa smiled shyly and came closer, her arm around my waist. I felt the warm blowing of her breath on my neck as she settled herself back to sleep.

I bit back a whine of emotion and rested my mouth on her forehead, inhaling the smell of her hair and cuddling her gently, "Misa, we have to wake up…".

"Dormir mas… porfi…" she grunted against me, her slippy voice was a bit higher pitched.

"We have to leave the room soon." I kept stroking her long hair and kissed her forehead. She grunted and squeezed me again. I ran my mouth on her temple to her cheekbone, laying kisses here and there. Misa began to stir again. When I reached her mouth, the goalkeeper awoke more at the wet contact.

"Humm" she pulled away, rolled on her back and stretched with a yawn, her bare breast emerging from the bedsheets, sending an instant throbbing in my lower body.

She grabbed her phone, scrolled and typed a moment. Her naked body and laid back attitude was beginning to aroused me and I looked away.

"Hayley says hi and hope we had a good night" she told me after a few minutes. I snorted. "Did you sleep well ?" she added.

"Yeah, alright" I said without belief and avoiding to look at her.

"Que passa ? Oh… did I snored ?" she asked with an apologizing look.

I frowned and nodded, apologizing as well for letting her know.

"Perdon Nicky, I know I do, my teammates avoid sharing a room with me when they can."

"That's not a good enough reason not to have you in my bed." I said with a guilty smile. She laughed and dropped her phone.

She swiftly came over me and without warning she kissed me with an intensity I had not foreseen. Her tongue pushed its way inside my mouth, pressing and turning with mine. I moaned, instantly worked up by everything she was doing crashing on my body still numbed with sleep. Her heated kiss, her bare skin brushing against mine, our chests touching, her traveling hands on my sides, her tight between my tights made my head span. The goalkeeper had let me lead the dance last night and wanted her revenge. Obviously, she had planned to make me loose my mind.

Her kisses descended on my neck and I grasped her face, fighting hard to stay sensible. "Misa ! We don’t have time !". The naughty look she gave me back accentuate the throbbing between my legs.

"It can be quick… but I better get to it then", she whispered in my ear before nipping the skin below. I blushed and gasped, out of arguments. My own body had already given up when she reached my breast.

She licked each of my nipples. After sending them hardening, she applied to suck and bit slowly, letting out low noises, clearly enjoying her work on my chest. The moans escaping my mouth became louder with the increasing sensibility. "Keep quiet Nicky, nobody’s sleeping now." Her authoritarian tone excited me more and I placed my forearm on my mouth.

Misa’s tongue went to my stomach, kissing my ribs, making me shiver, licking her way to my pelvis. I was panting with the more and more difficulties I had to remain silent.

My hips began to stir as the goalkeeper settle herself between my spread legs. I rubbed my face and glanced at the woman ready to send me on an other planet. She locked her dark eyes with me, ensnared each oh my tight and drag me down to her mouth in a swift move. I whined in surprise as I felt her tongue between my legs at once. My body was stretched out at full length, my head falling back on the mattress and arms sled upward, increasing the intensity of the sensations.

I couldn’t hold the first whimper when she began to lick me slowly. Her tongue was so precise, the pressure perfect, I quickly put back my palm on my mouth. The muffled cry I let out against it would had been heard on the adjoining floors when she added her fingers, sliding them from up to down to go with her mouth. I grasped hard the bedsheets, trying to stay as quiet as I could while pleasure washed over me wave after wave.

When she pushed her fingers near my entrance I thought I was loosing my breath, and she led them inside, just to curl them without moving more. My feet dragged on the sheets, fighting to get a rest, trying to escape her saturating touch.

Misa kept on doing wonderful things on my core and sent my thighs to tremble. They froze as I felt my orgasm building at an incredible speed. It was too much, too intense, too hard not to moan, to shout, to cry her name. I was going to explode.

The restraint and the liberation melted in a second and sent me silently over the edge but with a force that had my body shaking uncontrollably.

Misa was at my side at once, enfolding and covering me with light kisses. I snuggled in her arms, still regaining my breath, breathing the smell of sex and sweat on her skin. "Misa", I whispered and felt her embraced tighten around me. I had lost the track of time, lost in the feeling of her, blending with enjoyment.

"I’m going to shower" she said after a moment and got up gently. I stretched across the bed, still relishing on the pleasure fading feel, and watching Misa checking her phone again. "Quinze minutos !" she boast and flexed her muscles with mischievous eyes.

"Happy with your performance Misa Rodriguez ? One gold medal isn’t enough for you ?" I joked, dragging myself at the edge of the bed toward her.

She crouched in front of me. "Never enough ! Did I won it ?"

I brushed her lips with my finger "Hum… I’m not giving it to you yet, it would be to easy".

She snorted and pressed her mouth on mine. "I take the challenge. You come to shower with me ?".

"I’d love to but I’m a weak women and we’re really running out of time".

"It’s probably wiser", the brunette winked, got up and collected her clothes on the floor before disappearing in the bathroom.

***

I was back in Madrid for three days off now and I could only think about when I could see her again. By see her, I mostly meant hook up again. Far from releasing me, sleeping with Misa had me completely mad about her. I dreamt to hear her soft voice whispering naughty words in my ear, to contemplate her from head to toes lying naked on a sofa, a bed or whatever she’d be comfortable on, to smell the perfume of her skin when I closed my eyes, to shiver under her hands brushing my flanks and grasping at anything they could. But most of all, I was dying to touch her again, to find what she would like best, to hear her sight in delight and to hold her tight when she’d be lost in pleasure.

The truth was I was feeling like a teenager discovering the wonders of intimacy. Nobody had ever made me feel like Misa did. She was so intense, so complete, soft and caring as well as fierce and strong but also goofy and insecure, all of this wrapped up in the most gorgeous women I had ever hooked up with. With Misa on my mind all the time, I was failing miserably at being back to my daily solitary life.

The goalie and I had exchanged a few texts since Paris and she had offered to honor her promise to teach me football. We had agree to meet tomorrow afternoon at a local stadium in the north of Madrid, the sciudad being a far too risky place, and I had tried to occupied myself since then.

I had a few walks in the city to resume my personal practice of photography. I had always loved to be able to do some work on my own and I like urban photography so Madrid’s uneven rooftops and swarming streets had been a good playground. I had been rather happy with some of the shots, so I had settled in comfy coffee shop in my neighborhood to call Angela. She had wanted to know every details of my trip in Paris, particularly pleased by the concretization of the ending she had been expected. Having Angela on my side alleviated the stress I felt breaking the rules of my employment contract. She kept saying none of it made sense and so was I when the prospect of being with Misa was enhancing everything in my life. At the time, it was the thought of our football lesson that was filling me with a peaceful excitement.

***

The sun was still high on the dying afternoon of that early summer day when I arrived at the stadium, fully dress in a Real Madrid training kit, a sport bag on the shoulder. I searched for Misa on the empty parking and I saw her grey car approaching the entrance. She parked right in front of me, waving hi through the windscreen as she turned off the engine. All of sudden, I felt nervous and eager to see her again.

She exited the vehicle, sun rays soaking her head and dazzling her when she straighten up. A broad smile flashed as she came toward me "Hola Nicky! Como estas? Ready to suffer?"

"Hey Misa, muy bien y tu? Hang on, when did suffering become part of the plan?" I protested but her mocking tone had relaxed me at once.

The footballer came closer "I’m going to turn you into the new football star, of course you’re going to suffer! You behave and I be nice" she joked, a glint in her eyes. She was really excited to share her passion and I, myself, was already dying to kiss her.

"I’m not scared of you, you know?" I said lifting my chin and puffing my chest. Misa stopped smiling and frowned, hard, looking at me straight in the eyes. "Ok ! Ok ! I’m a bit afraid of that Misa, the one on the pitch!" Like now, she could be very intimidating when she was playing.

The goalkeeper bursted in laugh, "Funciona todo el tiempo! Come on let’s get started", and she invited me to follow her.

We walked to the middle of the pitch. I had put on the smaller football cleats Misa had borrowed and was trying to get used to grip the grass with every step. The goalie was running ahead of me, easily pushing the ball at her feet and dancing with it in a sequence of various rebounds. Her all body was moving so confidently like she felt at home on every football pitches.

"Ok Nicky, we’ll start with controls and passes", she said once we faced each other at the lawn center. "When I send it to you, you block it with the inner side of your foot. Ok?" I nodded. Misa pushed the ball rolling toward me and I angled my foot like she explained. The ball bumped against it and stopped.

"Valé, now push it back to me and I’ll pass it to you and you to me and on and on."

"Got it!" I kicked the ball back to Misa and we exchanged a few passes until I inevitably missed one.

She chuckled "Bueno Nicky that’s it! Now, I’ll teach you how to run with the ball. Come with me".

She demonstrated it, explaining I had to push the ball with the tips of my feet while running. That seemed more difficult to me, but even knowing I had no chance to impress Misa, I was bound to give it a try to the least.

I started to run and immediately had trouble with directions, always kicking too much on the right or left and often breaking the run, instead of sending the ball straight forward.

"Vamos Nicky! Go again until you reach to goal." Misa clapped her hands encouragingly while walking at my sides. I kept on trying but it was laborious and was not used to the cleats and the way the ball rebounded on the shoes yet. I managed to get to the end of pitch zigzagging randomly, and laughing out loud at my poor skills.

"Concentrate!", Misa shouted as I stopped in front of the cage, panting slightly.

"Damned! I really have no gift for this", I said, ashamed. I felt ridiculous to be taught by her.

The goalkeeper grasped my hand. "It’s not about a gift, you just have to focus and practice… a lot", she broke a smile and kissed me on the cheek. "Let’s move on to striking", she said when my thoughts weren’t about football anymore, my cheek hot where her lips had touched.

Misa settled in front of the ball, "All you have to do is kick as hard as you can". She stepped back, ran, armed her leg and shoot the ball to the middle of the net. I applauded, genuinely impressed by her strength even after having seen her play countless times. Misa throw the ball back to me in one agile move.

I readied myself and kicked as hard as I could in a very approximative movement. I was in the penalty area, moreover very close to the goal, but I was satisfied to see the ball enter the cage anyway. "Pero bueno!", Misa congratulated me and send the ball back to me one more time. I enjoyed shooting at it again and again far more that running and controlling.

After a dozens of shots or so, the goalkeeper took her place in front of me and made me move back from the cage, indicating I aim anywhere but at her. With Misa in my sight, it was harder to concentrate. My gaze was irresistibly attracted by her tanned legs and arms, my stomach warming at the soft but serious expression she had when she advised me.

"Nicky! I said don’t shoot at me, right?", she warned when my eyes lasted on her silhouette.

"Yes, yes !", I answered, refocusing on the exercise.

The first attempts were catastrophic with me missing the frame on either sides. Misa made me try until I succeeded at least to put the ball both in the cage and not directly at her but I was becoming frustrating as I kept failing to send it exactly were I wanted and mostly relaying on chance.

"Aim here ! Open your foot more. Focus on your destination!"

"But I am focusing!", I responded and kicked angrily at the ball. To my surprise, the kick was strong and swift, but directly at Misa. The goalkeeper reflexes peeped out, her bare fists shielding her and propelling the ball back hard on the my stomach. The air was drove out of me as pain, not very intense but enough to make me cowered on myself, throbbed in my ribs.

"Oh no ! Nicky you alright ?" I scented the sweet and floral perfume around me.

"You… you just took my breath away, but not the way you usually do!" I croaked and a flattered and embarrassed mixed expression showed on the goalkeeper’s face.

"Tsss Chica ! Lay down a moment".

Once I was down on the grass, Misa sat beside me and checked my belly, passing and pressing her palm across it. "Do it hurt here ?" she asked while applying a light pressure on my ribs". I shook my head. "I think you’ll be ok. I’m sorry but you got me surprised and I didn’t have my gloves on. That kick was actually very good!"

"Kicking hard is the only thing I don’t suck at…" I chuckled and straitened up, leaning toward the goalkeeper.

"Lo siento, you’ll have to work really hard to be next estrella del futbol. You have no more gift for it that I have for photography, Cariño", Misa said, patting my tight.

I opened my mouth wide, outraged, of part of my brain registering she’d just called me dear, when Misa pulled me, my back to her front, in a very sweet embrace. She kissed my cheek again and I felt dazed. "Tsss! I’m vexed by the fact that you seemed really vexed by the comparison!", she added, laughing frankly before faking to pout.

I chortled, not knowing what to say. I turned to her and put my palm on her face. "Er… We’ll have you try naturalistic photography soon, I promise!"

"I’m not sure I want teacher Nicky back, she’s too bossy and narrow minded". She leant her mouth toward mine and stopped at the last moment. "I mean, I don’t want only the teacher part", and we kissed finally. How much I had missed her lips… But shortly, she held back and spoke with strange tone "Misa, your picture is ugly! You’re lazy Misa, you're not working enough because you don’t really like photography!", she mimicked me with a hight pitch voice that I hoped had nothing to do with mine.

I pulled back from her arms to sulk at the bad imitation. "You didn’t seemed to be bothered to be grounded at the museum last time", I retorted.

"La verdad es I wanted to kiss you to shut you up that day !" her words and the light chuckle she blowed on my mouth made me want her badly and I tried hard to dismiss the thought of pushing her on the grass to have her now, in the middle of the desert stadium.

"Mean girl", I said but went close again to relished on her smell and on the warmth of her neck between my hands.

Misa pulled back to speak again, an int of shyness lingering behind the warm notes of her voice "Do you want to come to my place after?"

I couldn’t suppress a gasp before composing a more relaxed face and taking a casual tone, far away from the real burning mess I was becoming inside. "Yeah sure, I’d love to see your home".

I melted back in her embrace a moment, the sun had lowered but was still hot on our skin.

Misa drove us back to her apartment near the stadium in a couple of minutes. I was really excited to discover her place and therefore more of her. We took the lift, the goalkeeper and I got off at the seventh floor, the women pulling out her keys and opening the door on the left.

"After you", she said in a courteous manner and I stepped in. The entrance was wide, between bare and crowded, a white wall totally empty when the other bore many beach style panels and a tall mirror. I heard the door closing behind. "Bienvenida a casa, Nicky", the brunette said happily, "Want me to make a visit?". I approved and followed her.

We stepped into the living, roomy and comfy with an American kitchen and a very large sofa. Wide windows revealed a spacious terrace where I noticed a lounge chair.

"So this is how you’re always so tanned", I said pointing at it.

"You know I’m from Canaria, I can’t live without a sunny spot. I hate winter here…"

As if to illustrate her words, I turned around to see a big Canarian flag on the wall near the kitchen. They were many others decorations in the room, Real Madrid items, framed photos, trophies and medals, music posters…, but like in the hall unevenly distributed and hung randomly on the walls. It was like she had thought about each details but in a messy way. I found it cute.

The bedroom was just the same but messier, the bed looking inviting and soft, a colorful surfboard hanging above the headboard, stuff, folded clothes and probably sport related items covered the furniture.

We ended the visit by another smaller room dedicated to Misa’s training and came back in the living.

"Your place is nice Misa, it looks like you", I said and she smiled wide.

"I’m glad you like it. Now, shower or dinner ?", she asked.

I realized my belly was rumbling with hunger. The sun was setting, it was time to eat, even in Spain. "Dinner please, football lesson got me starving!"

Misa went in the kitchen and opened the fridge. "I have a rest of a paella I ordered yesterday. They gave me for four to the least ! Bueno para ti ?"

"Valé perfecto! Gracias."

We dressed the table and sat down to eat. The food was delicious and the casual chatting coming along even more. My insides felt light. It was good to share this daily moment with someone. Misa made more jokes about our teaching and learning abilities, having me laughing hard. Then, she talked about her arrival in the peninsula at an early age and the hard time she had to get used to be away from her family and to live on her own. My chest tightened as I realized how attached I was becoming to Misa. It scared me all of a sudden and I buried myself in a glass of water, swallowing slowly as I listened to her.

However, the women facing me figured something was going on and put her hand on mine across the table. "Are you ok ?" she asked, a int of worry in her voice.

I looked at her large tan hand on mine, its contact soothing. I smiled, interlacing our fingers while I exhaled deeply. "Actually, I’m better than ok. I’m really happy to be here".

"Me alegro que estés aquí también" she replied, her face so kind I could cry.

We finished the dish more quietly and Misa excused herself for not having any dessert to offer me. She explained she ate nothing containing too much sugar or on really exceptional circumstances. Being an athlete wasn’t easy on a daily basis. She admitted it was a sacrifice for the sweet tooth she was.

"I promise I’ll get rid of all the sweets and chocolates I have at my home before you’ll come", I told her, sneaking an invitation in the same time.

"Leave just one chocolate out of it, please !" Misa begged, bitting her lips and at the bait.

Then, she cleared the table, humming absentmindedly a song when she went to arrange the kitchen. "Nicky, go ahead in the shower, I’ll join you in a minute. Bathroom is next bedroom", she dropped with the most ease.

I wasn't going to be asked twice, I went the small room, taking off my cloth quickly and entering the rather spacious shower cabin that was only separated by a thick glass.

The jet turned on and the temperature adjusted, I stepped into the hot pouring water with delight and let it melt my anxiety and tiredness away. Drops crashed on my face, soaking my hair. I closed my eyes to focus on the sound of it. Deep inside, I was still trying to register what was going on in my life. I had broken the rules by sleeping with the Real Madrid goalkeeper, I was at her home, in her shower, waiting for her. And everything felt surreal. Something like that couldn’t be happening to me.

My deep breath came out in a rasp. I open my eyes again. I was actually there, in an unknown shower peering at a rang of shampoo bottles. It was real, everything was.

Smiling vaguely, I stepped out of the water, selected a vanilla shower gel from Misa’s products and put some on my palm to lather on my skin. Through the glass studded with droplets, I saw the door opening and the blurry shape of the goalie completely naked entering the bathroom. She pushed the cabin door and came inside, her loose long hair partially hiding her chest.

"Hola" she said brushing past me to go to the shower jet, her cheeks more pinky than when I left her. Misa settled under the hot water, rubbing her skin and waving her hair to get wet, eyes shut tight and mouth spitting as the drops streamed down her face. This was one of the most erotic vision I’d ever seen. Unable to tear my eyes away from the scene in front of me, I continued to wash, watching her body getting drenched, hypnotized by gleaming shape of her muscles under the celling light. My eyes lingered on the dark triangle between her legs, passing over her peaked and dripping nipples, to rest on her lips.

I was clearly becoming obsessed with Misa’s mouth. It called me and I rejoined her under the water, my skin covered with foam. The goalkeeper drenched hair were splattered her broad shoulders. She sense me close, her wet cheeks still looked blushed when she glanced at me through the pouring water. Her eyelashes were loaded and packed with wetness, drops falling from her nose and lips.

I pressed my body against hers, my soapy front slipped lasciviously on her skin. Misa opened her mouth to sight, wrapping my neck with her arms and pressing more, and I peered at her with pure lust.

My hand descended on her butt, a low groan of satisfaction escaped my mouth when my fingers sunk in the soft flesh, before I crashed my lips on Misa’s. We kissed roughly, whining, trickles infiltrating between our lips. The diluted taste of her was almost fleshy, awaking something bestial. I pushed my tongue further and the goalkeeper ensnared my head to depend our kiss even more. My fingers grasped tighter her wet bottom as our hips began to wiggle in anticipation. I was so ready for us to just fuck properly, without holding back, as we where not in a hotel with the rest of the team anymore.

Steam from the hot water was filling the cabin with a foggy atmosphere. I ran a hand to her neck and down her front. Misa mirrored me, our fingers meeting at belly level, briefly intertwining, until we slipped them down between each other’s legs. The soft and simultaneous movements on our cores drove me mad. Her tongue and lips kept pressing, demanding while her fingers rubbed more abruptly. I yelped, pleased, so pleased to feel her when she was feeling me.

She pushed her way inside gently. Thrilled, my lips slowed down against her mouth. It was my turn to imitate her, wetness and water allowing to sink my fingers quickly to harvest a low moan from her. A haze enveloped our interlacing bodies, steam clenching to our burning skins as we continue to fill each other, the shower enhancing all the sensations.

Gradually, I quickened the pace and Misa’s mouth dropped open, not responding to my kisses anymore. Her touching slackened as my fingers rocked rhythmically, my other hand finding her breast and rubbing her nipple. The goalie’s fingers stopped moving with her breathy cries getting louder.

She leant her back against the shower wall, the water raining less directly on us revealing our reddenned skins dotted with drops. The new angle allowed me to go deeper inside of her. Misa moaned, whomped, and abandoned her touching on me, her wet lips opening more as my thrust inside and out continued, my teeth finding her neck and bitting the damp and hot skin.

"Más rapido…" I heard her demand and I went back to her face, boring my eyes into hers and crashing on her lips again. I sized her tight, raised it to spread her legs more. The goalkeeper clung at my neck as I buried back my fingers deep, pace fast. The smell of sex spread all around, the taste of her mouth, barely able to keep on kissing, was strong and magnetic. Misa’s breathing became erratical, jerky, whiny. "Más! Don’t stop…", she panted, head falling backward against the tiles and I flexed my legs a little to fuck her whole. I was in a haze, in a cloud, in the sky, feeling her tightening around me, feeling myself dripping not only of water as my own excitation reached a peak.

"Don’t… st.." the end of the word was lost in a cry, Misa’s head felt over my shoulder, her body half collapsing against me as the spasms in her belly rippled on my skin. My fingers accompanied her orgasm on her core, snatching more shouts from her. She clung hard at my neck to keep standing and I hold her tight.

Her hand fell over mine to signal me to stop, witch I seized and unceremoniously pressed hard between my own legs, having Misa to groan in surprise. The pressure relieved me at once, her fingers instantly caressing the sensitive area.

The goalie flipped my body, back to her front, and slide her fingers through my intimacy again. She hungrily kissed my neck, her other hand running on the inside of my thighs to spread them further.

She switched hands, the one that used to caress me crept between our bodies, sliding down my butt to touch my entrance from the back. "Fuck!" I led out at the simultaneous touch of both of her hands on me and I felt getting wetter even with the shower washing down my fluids.

I arched, so ready to welcome her inside and Misa stopped touching my core to make me lean forward. Warm water splattered on my exposed back. The pace she set was slow and thorough. My legs already felt weak, pleasure relaxing the muscles and swelling my lower body. I bent over and clung at the shower tap when Misa’s moves quickened. "Misa… fuck", I whined.

I winced as she added an other finger to stretch me deliciously. "Ow, fuck!", I repeated. The goalkeeper bent over me as well, her hips rhythmically pushing against my butt. "Hum, sì… fuck!", she groaned, squeezing my hanging chest. The swelling in my stomach expanded and sent ripples of enjoyment.

I yelled and swore again when she put the fingers of her other hand back on my core while she was still filling me, fast and roughly. It only took a few more seconds before I felt the liquid warmth dissolved inside of me, the goalkeeper straitening me and holding me tight against her for me not to fall as the intense feel lasted.

Misa flipped me over again to face her, hugging me hard and kissing the corner of my mouth. I brushed my nose against her, breathing in her scent, feeling completely out of this world. "Fuck Misa, I’ll never have enough of this…", I dropped and saw the goalkeeper lips stretch. "Yo también Cari", she whispered, her kisses demanding again.

This women is going to be my downfall, I thought, back at kissing her tenderly, before I crouched between her legs and buried my mouth in her pelvis, her cries filling me up with new energy.

***

A gentle stroking pulled me out of sleep and I found myself staring at an unfamiliar celling, hidden shortly by the face of the goalkeeper overlooking. Misa’s nose nuzzled my cheek and I rolled toward her, searching her warm body, but found myself at the edge of the bed.

I shook my head to awake properly. The brunette was kneeing at bedside, fully dressed, her hair neatly tied back in a ponytail. I made a frustrated sound followed by an interrogating one.

"I’m going to the gym. You can stay here and go back to sleep, I’ll be back in an hour and a half max."

"Oh ok, you already ate?", I asked in a pasty voice.

"I never take breakfast but I got some bread and jam for you. It’s on the kitchen’s bar", she chuckled at my surprised expression and try to stand, but I hold her down, just wanting to breathe in her scent a little longer. "Thanks for the bread. Train well", I said before I let her go, snatching a kiss on her lips passing by.

I sat at the kitchen table, devouring my toasts with a large coffee when Angela called.

"Hey Angie ! You’re good?"

"Hey ! All good and you Nicky ? I hope I'm not disturbing you ?"

"Not at all, I’m having breakfast, go ahead, what’s up ?"

"I have a few days of leave to take and I wondered if I could come to see you in Madrid ?"

I nearly jumped off the chair. "You’re kidding! Of course! Come whenever you like!", I said, a large smile spreading.

"Great! I can’t wait to see you Nicky! It’s been so long… I think I’ll come at the end of the month, something like that. Now tell me, how’s it going with your goalie?"

"Well, I’m in her kitchen right now while she’s at the gym. So, I’d say it’s going well", I sighted with ease.

"Wow, she’s already invite you to her place, well done. Hang on… what was that sight I just heard?"

"Nothing, I’m feeling great that’s all. Misa’s very sweet and, you know… it feels good to care for someone again."

Angela pause a moment. "Oh no Nicky…"

"What ?"

"Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for her for real ?"

"What do you mean ? Of course I��m into her!" I wasn’t getting Angela’s point.

She paused again, and I took a sip of my coffee, waiting.

"Nicky, are you in love with her ?", she asked and I barely missed to spill my mug as I half choked myself with the hot liquid. "Oh god, I’m right then ?", she added when she heard me caught.

I gathered myself, feeling my heart beat faster, letting silence stretch while I was looking for what to say when the goalkeeper’s name kept ranging in my head, clouding my mind completely. There was no way I was going to be able to lie, not even to myself.

"Er… I think… I think I do…", the confession overwhelmed me as I finally spoke.

"Ohhh Nicky ! I thought you two were mostly about hooking up. That changes things a bit…"

"Hum, what’s the difference between fuck buddies and lovers ? With the fucking clause, both have to stay hidden anyway so…"

"True but… What about her, do you think she does too ?"

I took a moment to think about it, recalling the way she behaved when she was with me. My eyes rested on my half eaten toast. "I guess she likes me enough to spend the night and some of her spare time with me. And she can be thoughtful, like I said."

"Ok, sounds like a good start. Will I meet her when I come ?"

I almost strangled myself again, imagining introducing Misa to Angela as my girlfriend. My heart tightened at the thought. My Misa. If only she could be my Misa by the time my best friend would visit…

"Er, yes I’ll try to set up something", I said. "Can I call you back later, I think Misa’s returning from the gym?" I lied because I felt I needed a moment on my own before the actual return of the goalie.

"Of course, take care Nicky. Bye."

"You too. Bye Angie. Can’t wait!"

I hung up, silence pressing at once. Angela had me realize I had fallen deep for the goalkeeper, lowering my defenses so fast and letting my emotions escape recklessly. After my previous relationship and its abrupt ending, I had thought I’d be more careful with who could gain my confidence, but I was amazed by how little control I had above my feelings, especially toward pretty women.

I finished my breakfast confused. Did I know Misa enough to trust her ? I was taking a huge risk by being with her but she had protected our secret conscientiously and seemed to be willing to live whatever we were building together. When I thought about it, I couldn't bring myself to doubt the sincerity of the goalkeeper.

I was lying in the sofa, the morning sun almost completely gone from the room when Misa came back. She entered, earphones on and scrolling her phone. She was still in a training kit, wearing her hair in a loose bun. I greeted her and she glanced quickly at me before focusing back on the screen, having me feeling annoyed by her sudden total lack of attention. Had I been wrong about her ?

Misa pulled off her earphones and some raggaton music filled the room. She dropped her phone on the bar, living it to play the song out loud, then she came to me, feeling the beat. She grabbed my hands and heaved me to my feet to draw me into her dance in the middle of her living room. My guts unravelled at the contact with her body moving madly. She began to sing over the music, rather badly, her voice soft and slender but so cute and my guts tightened again.

I melted at Misa's loud dancing, Misa’s mischievous smile, Misa’s goofy manners, Misa’s soft and warm gaze.

I was in a haze again, Misa's haze.

I had no doubt left. I was in love with Misa Rodriguez.

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Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions

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