#i just really need hockey to come back like. it's dire

[thatsnotbuddies]

bought trinkets at the flea market now I'm listening to one d and editing pics for the photog insta. girl who is going to be okay probably

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

summary: You and Sirius are in dire need of a new coach just weeks before the Olympics. Remus is a former figure skating prodigy forced to retire after a career-ending injury. Though it's not smooth skating right away, those stiff Olympic village beds are dying to be broken in.

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus still wakes before dark every morning. It’s automatic, an urgency and excitement that thrums through him like an old instinct, born from years of his alarm clock rousing him at this time. The rink is always at its best right now, when they’ve just finished resurfacing the ice and no one else is around. It was Remus’ favorite time to practice. 

Now, he has a new reason to get up. His hip clicks as he does it, so he starts his day with a couple of proactive painkillers. If he really wanted to be proactive he would stretch like he’s supposed to, but there’s no time and Remus doesn’t feel like it. He’ll pay his toll for the negligence later. 

The webpage of his Airbnb boasted a five-minute walk to the rink, but with his hip it takes Remus seven. It’s like an odd sort of muscle memory, an old routine from another life that feels as bitter as it does comfortable. He heads out early to give himself some cushion. The streets are empty but for bakers and baristas, the first hints of dawn tinging the sky a deep blue. When he turns a corner and the rink comes into view, the absence of his bag hanging from his shoulder is a phantom ache. 

The front doors are locked but the side one staff uses isn’t, the Zamboni driver already inside. Remus lets himself in, makes a cup of tea from the hot water dispenser they leave out when concessions are closed, plants himself on a bench, and waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

Remus has nearly nodded off when two pairs of shoes come bounding up to him. Well, one pair bounds. The other drags. 

“Hi, sorry we’re late.” You’re breathless and hauling a sullen-looking boy along behind you by the hand, but you manage a smile when Remus looks up at you. “I had to run over and get him out of bed. It’s good to meet you!”

You hold out your untethered hand. Remus might normally stand to take it, but he no longer feels like doing you the courtesy. Your grip is firm and warm. 

“You were supposed to be here at six,” he says. 

You wince. “I know. Sorry, Sirius is really not a morning person.” 

Remus thinks that he might put more stock into your apologies if you looked a tad more contrite. As it is, your countenance is almost cheery, a fizzy eagerness about you as you look between him and the ice like you can’t wait to get out on it. 

In stark contrast, the ill-tempered boy behind you seems not to have a clue where he is. He looks rumpled and disoriented, squinting in the rink’s fluorescent light. 

“Then why didn’t you pick another time?” Remus asks. 

He hadn’t realized he was still looking at Sirius, or that the other boy could talk, so it’s a surprise when he answers. “Wasn’t my bloody idea.” 

By the way you grin, Remus wonders if you’ve even heard the obvious bitterness in your partner’s tone, or whether it’s gone straight over your head. 

“I like the rink better early,” you explain. “No one else ever comes before the hockey practice starts at nine, and they’ll have just finished resurfacing the ice.” 

Begrudgingly, Remus nods. “I always preferred it about now, too.” 

He realizes immediately that his agreement was a mistake, because your smile grows into something far too brilliant for the early hour. Christ, what has he gotten himself into? There’s you, starry-eyed and effervescing all over the place, and your partner, who looks more inclined to fall asleep on your shoulder than put on his skates. 

And this is the pair skating duo Remus is supposed to take to the Olympics. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Watch that back foot!” Remus shouts across the ice.

Sirius doesn’t look happy about it, but he corrects the placement of his skate, transitioning smoothly into the next synced turn. 

“Good,” Remus murmurs to himself. 

Once Sirius got out on the ice and woke up a bit, he was good. He skates with the technical proficiency of someone who’s been in the sport since before they started primary school, and the intuitive artistry of someone who loves it. You’re much the same, though your virtuosity and obvious competence are consistently undercut by hesitation, the grace of your movements interrupted when you second-guess yourself. But these—technical prowess paired with devotion—are the basics of what makes a good figure skater. You’ll have to be flawless if you want to do well at the Olympics. 

And Remus has found many flaws. 

“No, no—shit!” Remus stands as you fall out of your jump again, catching yourself on your forearms. “You’re still under-rotating! Come on!” 

Sirius snarls a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder before turning his back on Remus, going to help you up. He speaks to you quietly, checking you over as you stand. Remus seethes. 

He has no clue why he’s been called out here to coach a pair. Remus doesn’t know pairs, has never been a part of one. He was a solo skater. And frankly, it makes him wary that what’s supposed to be the best skating pair in Britain has asked him, a former solo skater who’s been isolated from the figure skating community in general for the past two years, to coach them. But Remus does know figure skating. And he knows when skaters are making stupid mistakes behind their skill level. 

“What aren’t you understanding?” asks Remus as you skate back to the edge of the rink. He really wants to know. “It’s simple. You can do this.” He knows he could have. As easy as breathing, and he would kill to have the chance again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Sirius’ glare is sharp as knives. He steps off the ice before you can, positioning himself between you and Remus. Your lips purse with a knowing sort of apprehension. 

“Sirius…” 

“No, you don’t talk to her like that,” Sirius spits. “It was a tiny mistake.” 

Remus raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “I’m trying to help her! It was a giant mistake, with a simple fix. You ought to be telling her the same, unless you’re okay with your partner snapping her ankle weeks out from competition.” 

“None of that means you get to fucking yell at her! Who do you think you are?” 

“Okay—” 

“I’m her coach,” says Remus, voice rising, “and—”

“Then coach her! Maybe if you’d give some actual fucking feedback instead of just nitpicking—” 

“Okay!” Your shout cuts through the space, echoing in the empty rink and silencing the other two. “That’s enough.” 

You haul Sirius back by his shoulder. Your grip doesn’t look severe enough to move him, but he goes, stepping back to your side. His eyes never leave Remus’. 

Your own gaze jumps between both boys, that same spark he’d seen in you earlier burning with a different light. 

“Let’s call it for today,” you say firmly. “Okay? We’ll try again tomorrow.” 

Neither boy speaks, though Remus nods. It seems to be taking all of Sirius’ willpower to bite his tongue. He gets the impression it isn’t something he succeeds at often, so Remus isn’t ashamed to say that it brings him a perverse sort of joy to see it now. His tiny bit of smugness fizzles out, though, when your eyes land on him. There’s something desolate in your expression that’s a salient deviation from how you’d looked at him before. Remus has the sinking feeling that he’s disappointed you. It’s more distressing than he can account for. 

“We’ll be here on time tomorrow,” you say in that same steady tone. “And my jump, I’ll work on it.” 

Remus nods again. You return it, and when you turn to leave, you drag Sirius after you by his shirtsleeve, picking up your bags along your way. Remus’ mouth feels dry. His lips are chapped, his fingertips hurt from the cold, and the sight of your skates sinking into the rubbery floor makes his hip ache terribly. 

It’s only once you’re nearly out of earshot that he manages to mumble, “Thank you.”

[mr-snailman]

thanks for the tag @rocket-eighty-eight :D

this is the first time I've ever been tagged in one of these so I'm not quite sure how it works but I'll give it a shot

Name: I usually put down Sonny when I need a pseudonym. Oddly enough this predates my fascination with Al Pacino.

Pronouns: whatever you think (it rarely comes up anyways)

Where do you call home? A used-to-be farm town in the great state of Massachusetts. Go Bruins.

Favorite Animal: Surprise surprise-- it's not the snail. I'm fond of rats and carnivorous dinosaurs.

Cereal of choice: I've started buying Honey Bunches in bulk. With almonds.

Visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner: Probably a combination of auditory and kinesthetic? Like talk me through it while I do it slowly and then I'm set.

First pet: I've never really had a pet of my own. We lived in apartments for my entire childhood. My mom had cats when I was a baby, though.

Favorite scent: there's a Savers in a nearby town and every time I walk in I take a deep breath and smile. Mom says it smells like mildew. I say it reminds me of the locker rooms back when I used to play hockey, which usually smelled like sweat, beer, and yeah, mildew.

Do you believe in astrology? No and frankly I'm not fond of it, but I won't begrudge anyone their beliefs.

How many playlists do you have on your music service of choice? ...0. I just type the songs in manually and let it shuffle from there. Or listen to an artist's entire discography.

Sharpies or highlighters: On a personal level I like Sharpies more but I haven't seen mine in years and I don't ever have to use them. I don't do much with highlighters either but I bought a pack for my anatomy class and I might start using them in my sketchbook too.

Song that makes you cry: I really don't cry often but I remember when I was younger hearing "Travellin' Soldier" by the Chicks and bawling. He's just a kid! She's just a kid! They're alone and scared and they reach out for each other but the war sweeps it all away like a breaker takes a sandcastle out to sea!

Song that makes you happy: "Walk of Life" by Dire Straits. Bonus points if it's the music video that's just reels of sports wipeouts spliced with band footage.

Aand finally, do you write/draw/create? Yes! Not as much as I'd like to 'cause I'm busy and my sleep schedule is fucked but yes!! I draw a lot (mainly figures but I'm taking my very first art class right now). I also write sporadically, but the inspiration comes and goes.

Ok and I'm tagging @vbnmlpx3 @fruitysalamander1398 @wildly-empty and anyone else who wants to.

[thedeviltohisangel]

I Heard From The Heavens//4

And as tears trickled down his own face, he realized how close he had come to losing her that day. That it wasn’t Bradley’s fault. That maybe Pete Mitchell had cheated death one too many times for the universe’s liking. That maybe this was it’s reminder how mortal he was. That no matter how often he sought the solace of a cockpit, the ones he loved most were on the ground and if he forgot that ever again, he’d regret it.

Bradley & Daphne’s Infinite Playlist: Hell Of A View by Eric Church

masterlist is my url/writing or on ao3

based on a request to see mav in panic dad mode. send in more!

tw: car accident/miscarriage

Daphne was half listening to the judge give the jury instructions, half itching to grab her flashcards from her purse to remember what the term meant that he had just used. She sat in the back of the courtroom with the other interns from the U.S. Attorney’s office she was currently at. School had ended last year and he was an old friend of her mother’s who offered her the job while she studied for the Bar. It was proving difficult balancing work and studying and Bradley. But not impossible. They were happier than they ever had been, Bradley graduating soon from TOPGUN and her career on the precipice of everything she ever wanted. After their breakthrough at the Hard Deck, they had found their footing again even amongst the chaos of life. 

“You studying with us tonight, Daph? We were gonna order Potbelly and camp out,” said Carmen, one of the interns she had gotten closest to. She opened her mouth to respond but felt nausea rise up her throat instead of words. Quickly ducking into the closest bathroom, she emptied the meager contents of her stomach. She had recently been unable to keep down more than saltines and ginger ale but couldn’t focus on it until her exam passed in a couple weeks. Was probably the stress of studying anyways. 

----

“You know, if your eyes keep closing then you aren’t really able to read and study.” Daphne startled herself awake at the kitchen table as Bradley peered through a couple cabinets in a quest for a midnight snack. “Come to sleep with me. It’ll all still be here in the morning.”

“Can’t,” she replied as she rubbed her eyes and went back to the article on her laptop, “I already ditched the study group tonight and I can’t afford to fall behind on my schedule.” She held the spreadsheet out to him as if to prove how dire the situation was.

“I don’t know what half this shit means,” he remarked and handed the paper back. “Your stomach is still acting up?” It gurgled in response to his question.

“I’ll be fine. In two weeks, I’ll have taken this test and can put all this stress behind me.” He watched her for a bit longer, something not sitting right with him but not knowing quite what it was. Maybe he was overthinking things or worrying over her too much. She was the most intelligent and capable person he knew. He should trust that she could take care of herself. 

“You’d tell me if it was something, right?” Daphne had her parent’s tolerance for pain. As a little girl she prided herself in never going to the school nurse’s office. Had taped her own broken finger on the sidelines of a field hockey game. Had practiced the art of smiling through period cramps and migraines.

“Bradley,” she whined. She was avoiding his question because they both knew the answer was actually that she wouldn’t.

“Fine, fine. I’ll leave you alone. Just need a good night kiss first.”

“Okay but actually just a kiss.” If you give a Bradley a kiss, he normally wants a handful of her ass. And if you give him that, it was a slippery slope to a flat surface and then the night would slip out of her grasp.

“I’m offended by what you’re implying,” he quipped. She smiled as she leaned to meet his lips halfway, not objecting when he slipped his tongue between her lips but smacking his chest when his hand around the back of her neck tightened ever so slightly.

“Stop, you know what your hand around my throat does to me,” she moaned. Daphne went against her own morals and leaned in for another kiss but he pulled away instead.

“I’m following the rules you set,” he said with a click of his tongue. She mumbled something about hating him but turned back to her computer with a pout. “Love you, gorgeous.”

“Night, handsome,” she called as he finally retreated out of the room. A yawn escaped from her mouth but she stifled it quickly. She could last a few more hours…

----

Bradley was startled awake a couple of hours before his alarm by the sounds of Daphne dry heaving in the bathroom. A quick glance to his side showed she had never come to bed the night before and he grimaced at himself for not realizing earlier. She was hunched over the toilet with tears streaming down her face when he opened the door.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed before he dropped to the tile and pulled her hair back, rubbing her back. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” The words sounded pitiful even to her own ears. He had enough to focus on with school and needed his sleep so he could be at his most alert when he flew. The last thing she wanted was to add to the weight on his shoulders. 

“No, baby, don’t apologize. Maybe it’s time you let me take you to the doctor’s.” She lent against his chest as she felt like she was done for the time being. 

“You can’t miss training,” he opened his mouth to argue with her, “I promise I’ll go myself today.”

“You’re not driving yourself like this.” He pushed some of her sweaty hair from her forehead and pressed a gentle kiss to her skin. 

“I’ll drink some Gatorade and I’ll be fine,” her voice fading to a whisper as she relaxed against him and felt like sleep was going to take over.

“We’ll see in a couple hours,” he mumbled against her hair as his thumb traced circles on her skin right above the band of her shorts until she was heavy with sleep. He carried her to bed and traced her cheek softly. “Let me take care of you, Daph.”

----

She watched from bed as he readied himself for the day, admiring the way his butt looked in his flight suit and smiling wistfully when his back muscles flexed while he bopped to the soft sounds of Maren Morris she was playing on her phone. 

“You sure you have to fly today and we can’t play doctor?” she asked while innocently twirling a lock of hair around her finger. 

“Weren’t you, just last week, calling me a horn-dog?” 

“I called you one, I didn’t complain you were one,” she clarified. 

“I’ll keep the distinction in mind.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pecked her quickly on the lips. “Promise me you’ll stay in bed today. Light flash card reading, bland food and sips of liquids only.”

“Yes, sir.” She went in for another kiss, Bradley stopping her with a finger to her lips.

“Say you promise, Daphne.”

“Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Daphne Mitchell.” She didn’t want to say the words because then she had to keep to them. 

“I promise,” she relented with a huff. Satisfied, he kissed her one last time before slipping on his aviators and grabbing his car keys.

“Might be hard to reach me today but call the number of the captain I gave you if anything changes.” 

“I love you, Rooster.” He blushed at the use of his call sign. 

“Love you too, Chicky.” 

----

She waited exactly fifteen minutes from the time he closed the front door before she was out of bed. Before her unidentified stomach bug had ruined her studying the night before, she had been looking through the references of a particularly fascinating paper and researching local libraries to see if they had any of the books that were mentioned. She justified her betrayal of Bradley by imagining the laugh he would get from her reason. Only she would risk his disappointment or a public stomach issue because of a book. At least, that was what she told herself as she followed the directions on her phone towards her goal.

She told herself it was the glare off the back windshield of the car in front of her that was making her head hurt. That it was the heat and her crappy air conditioning that was making her nauseous. That the black spots at the edge of her vision would go away any minute. Daphne swears she only blinked. That the other car came out of nowhere and crashed into without her ever even noticing. She remembers a searing pain from her shoulder where the seat belt pulled tight and the suffocating force of the air bag. She remembers thinking that her mother was on a business trip a few hours away. That her dad was test flying a couple of states away. She saw Bradley’s face as the glass splintered across her face and the world flipped upside down. Thought of how small he was when his father died. She thought of the promise she had made him that morning and that she should never have thought about breaking it. As the world stilled, the roof of her car against the pavement and her mind begging her to go to sleep, she thought of the wedding dress she’d never wear and the children she’d never hold. She touched the ground outside her window and thought of Bradley up in the sky. 

“I’m sorry.” And that was the last thing she remembers.

----

Pete Mitchell recognized the area code instantly. His first thought was that an old TOPGUN colleague or classmate was calling to catch up. But when he answered it, fresh off an exhilarating test run and trying to catch his breath, he thinks the words could have knocked him out cold. Heard the nurse explaining there had been a car accident. That Daphne was breathing but she wasn’t awake. That they couldn’t locate Lieutenant Bradshaw so they had called him. A brief but bright flash of anger flickered across his mind but it passed as he tried to do the math of how long it would take for him to fly by helicopter to where his daughter was. 

“Her mother…you need to call her mother, she’s in the area on business and can get there before me so Daphne’s not alone.” The image of his precious daughter alone and injured was enough to buckle his knees. Once he hung up, he tried Bradley but got his voicemail. “Bradley, get yourself to the hospital as soon as you hear this. I’m on my way but…but she’s going to want to see you.”

----

He can’t remember the last time he had been in the same room as his ex-wife. Their divorce had been less than amicable, her insistence that his lifestyle and influence was not conducive to the way she wished to raise their daughter driving a nail in the coffin of any hopes they had for a friendship. Charlie was pacing in the waiting room when he burst through the elevator doors and even though he had known she’d be there, he was still caught off guard by seeing her after so long. 

“Pete,” she cried in desperation. He pulled her into his arms without words, knowing that she was feeling the same ache in her chest that he was. 

“What have they said?” he murmured. 

“Some asshole ran a redlight and hit her side of the car. I stopped listening to all the broken bones after the third one. Head trauma. Internal bleeding. They took her into surgery a half hour ago.” Pete reached for the back of a chair in an attempt to steady himself. “We spoke the other day and she was so excited for the exam. She said her and Bradley had booked a trip to celebrate after his graduation. She sounded so happy. She has so much greatness ahead of her, Pete.” He nodded. It was a cruel, cruel world that those milestones might be taken from his daughter. That he might lose her. 

“She’s going to pull through. You think our daughter is going to let anyone take her future away from her? You remember how hard she fought us over an extra cookie or an extra hour of curfew. I wouldn’t want to be the one standing in her way of all she has ahead of her.” They both let out a teary chuckle at the image of their little girl stomping her foot to emphasize her point or her famous eye rolls that were so dramatic they looked like they hurt. “She gets her tenacity from you,” Pete complimented softly. 

“That might be true but when she bounces back from this like nothing happened, that’s all Maverick.” The small moment of congeniality between the two was interrupted by the frantic ring of his cell phone. 

“Bradley,” he gulped. He steadied himself before answering, not wanting to scare the boy anymore than the missed calls and voicemails already had. Charlie squeezed his hand tenderly. 

“What the fuck is gong on, Mav? Is she…Is she…” Bradley roughly rubbed at his eyes. He had taken his time after flying today, wanting his adrenaline rush to subside before heading home to care for Daphne. Once he had finally looked at his phone, missed calls from an unknown number. Missed calls from both of Daphne’s parents. All the voicemails informed him of was that she had been in a car accident and was in the hospital. That is was bad enough for both Charlie and Pete to drop what they were doing and head towards their daughter. 

“They have her in surgery right now. We’ll know more once she gets out.” 

“You know she promised me she was going to sit tight and rest today. I shouldn’t have left her this morning. I should’ve been there.” Bradley couldn’t help but think, wish, it was him battered and bruised instead of her. 

“It’s not your fault, Bradley. No one is at fault except for the driver that hit her. None of us could have done anything different. You focus on getting here safely.”

“I’ll be there soon. Thank you, Mav, for being there with her.”

“I always will be.” 

----

It felt like a lifetime before Bradley reached the hospital, haphazardly parking his car and sprinting up the stairs to her room when the elevator took too long. Pete was staring at a newspaper from the day before, not really capable of reading it and Charlie was curled up in a chair in an attempt to get some rest. 

“Where is she?” he asked breathlessly. He began to walk down the hall, peering through the windows into the rooms when he felt Pete wrap an arm around his shoulders. 

“Still in surgery. Why don’t you take a seat?”

“Shouldn’t she be out by now? Something’s wrong,” he shrugged away his arm and began his own path of pacing. “She fucking promised me!” His fist connected with the wall before any of them knew what was happening. 

“Bradley-” Pete began.

“I have a ring for her. I keep waiting for the right time and now I might never get the chance to marry her. I ‘ve been setting aside money for this house in Virginia Beach I see her looking at pictures of all the time because she deserves so much more than the one on base we’ve been living in.” He tried to keep the tears at bay but was losing. “We talk about kids and her dream of a non profit law clinic and some motherfucker at a red light...” He didn’t push Charlie away as she pulled him in for a hug. 

“She wants all those things and more with you, Bradley. She’s going to fight like hell,” she spoke through her own tears. 

“Are you all here with Ms. Daphne Mitchell?” They all stood as the doctor reached the waiting room. “The accident did a number on her, and we were touch and go for a few minutes on the table, but she’s going to be okay. She has a long recovery ahead of her but she will recover.”

“Oh thank God,” her mother sighed and Bradley hugged her tightly, Pete clapping him on the back with the biggest smile. 

“Mr. Bradshaw, there is one thing you should know.” Three confused looks were directed her way. 

“Me?”

“We were unable to save the fetus. The impact of the wreck and how early Ms. Mitchell was in her pregnancy-” she paused as Bradley collapsed into the nearest chair. Pete wasn’t far behind him. 

“I’m going to be sick,” he muttered in a daze. He should have known. The signs and symptoms had all been there. He should have pressed harder about her going to the doctor. 

“Maybe she didn’t know herself,” Charlie reasoned. Daphne would have told her mother about being pregnant, had she known. She knows she would have told Bradley.

“A baby,” Bradley whispered. They had talked about being parents, late at night in bed when they were dreaming of their future together. To have the chance ripped from him…

“Can we see her?” Charlie had noticed her ex-husband’s breaths coming quicker. His eyes burning a hole in the side of the young pilot’s head. She needed him to focus on Daphne. 

“Of course. Follow me.” They moved to follow but Pete stopped Bradley and pulled him out of ear shot. 

“You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on her.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Bradley asked with complete incredulity. 

“She was pregnant and you had no idea?”

“How am I supposed to know without her telling me?” Pete went to respond but was stopped when Charlie came running back down the hall.

“She’s asking for you two.” 

“I have to tell her, don’t I?” Bradley asked. 

“I think it’s best coming from you,” she replied. He squared his shoulders and walked down the hall to break her heart. “She’s not a teenager, Pete. They are both adults.”

“He promised me he’d protect her.”

“You don’t think the boy is going through enough pain right now without you adding to it?” Pete remembers losing one of Daphne’s teddy bears when she was younger. How he dreaded telling her and being responsible for her sadness. He thought of the conversation between her and Bradley that was happening down the hall and how it could never even compare. Pete walked towards the door slowly and glanced inside. He watched as understanding set over his daughter’s face. As her hands fell to her stomach. As the two of them cried in anguish for a life they hadn’t known they created but missed all the same. As she started the healing process in the arms of the man she loved, who loved her back with a fire he used to feel as well. And as tears trickled down his own face, he realized how close he had come to losing her that day. That it wasn’t Bradley’s fault. That maybe Pete Mitchell had cheated death one too many times for the universe’s liking. That maybe this was it’s reminder how mortal he was. That no matter how often he sought the solace of a cockpit, the ones he loved most were on the ground and if he forgot that ever again, he’d regret it.

[troubatrain]

i’d lie - m. tkachuk

a/n: this was the very first like super long fic i’d written for my own blog and tbh i still love it so i hope you guys do too :)

September 2019

The first time you met Matthew Tkachuk, you were running back to your apartment, mountain of textbooks in your hand. You’d run into a firm chest while trying to text your roommates back about dinner plans, your books knocking all over the floor. You apologized profusely, feeling awful for running into someone because you couldn’t get your head out of your phone. The stranger, who later introduced himself as Matthew, assured you it was fine and helped you pick up your books. You introduced yourself to him, thanking him for the help and making a light joke about how you weren’t paying attention. The two of you went your separate ways, but your mind wandered about the blue eyed stranger you’d run into that day.

The second time was definitely just a coincidence, and you were sure of that. You were grabbing a quick coffee before class, something you were in dire need of after your roommates came home well past midnight from a night out while you decided to stay in and study. You were waiting for your drink when you heard your name called from behind you. You turn around and meet Matthew’s eyes, laughing about how’d you run into each other just a couple of days later. The two of you made small talk, you explaining that you were just headed to class and him explaining he was grabbing an after practice coffee. When you asked him what sport he played, he looked at you in shock and laughed, explaining that he played for the Flames, you reluctantly admitted that you didn’t follow hockey much anymore, being just too busy. Your conversation ended quickly when you realized you had to run to class, telling Matthew you’d see him around even though you were sure you probably never would.

The third time was starting to feel like the universe was telling you something. You’d gone out with your roommates, celebrating a successful end to the fall semester. You were going to grab another drink when you felt someone grab your arm, when you turned around, ready to tell this guy to lay off, you’re met with a familiar pair of blue eyes. Matthew cracked a joke about how you’d seen him more times in the past week or so than his family and offered to buy you a drink. You took it, standing at the bar and talking to him for the rest of the night. You talked about school, your major, and your roommates. He told you about playing for the Flames, and how much he loved being in Calgary. When his teammates walked over to the two of you, chirping Matthew about talking to you, and when you roasted his teammate right back, Matthew told you that he was positive he was going to have a new best friend.

Matthew wasn’t kidding, finally getting your number at the bar that night and never leaving you since. It was slow, he started by inviting you out with his teammates after games, the boys becoming a permanent part of your life. Then you went to your first Flames game, in which Matthew scored twice and made you promise to never miss a home game after. After that, you were complaining about how loud your roommates could be when you really needed to get some work done, so Matthew gave you a key to his place so you could go there even if he was away. Matthew would send take out to your apartment if you’d had a particularly bad day or you would go over to his and cook for the both of you. He’d been there to help you study for finals, even though he didn’t have a clue about what you were talking about. You’d been there when the Flames got knocked out of the first round of the playoffs, holding Matthew while he ranted and raved about the game and how badly he wished they’d won. You went out to dinner with his parents when they came to town, you’d even made a trip to St. Louis over the summer. From an outsider’s perspective, and from the perspective of every person in your life, it seemed like you two were dating, but you felt like that ship had sailed and if it was going to happen it would’ve already.

You shake the memories of your friendship with Matthew out of your head as you turn the key to his apartment, sneaking in with the obnoxious decorations you’d bought. Yesterday, Matthew called you to let you know his contract was almost done and that he’d be back to Calgary for training camp the next day. You were excited, the contract debacle taking up more stress in your life than you’d liked. You’d sent the stuff down on his kitchen island, tying the red balloons you’d bought to one of the chairs and setting out the cake you’d bought that just says, “Congrats on getting PAID.” You hear the door creak open, and Matthew set his bag down by the door.

“Oh this is something,” Matthew chuckles, laughing at the small celebration you’d put together.

“Thought I’d welcome you back,” You laugh as he runs over to pull you into a hug.

“I really don’t deserve you,” He says, “Is that cake?”

“It is,” You smile, walking into the kitchen and pulling the groceries you’d bought to cook the both of you some dinner, “and dinner.”

“I really really don’t deserve you,” Matthew repeats, always appreciative of things you did to take care of him. Not that you minded it at all, the access to the quiet of Matthew’s apartment was enough to justify a few dinners, let alone when the two of you went out and Matthew insisted on paying the bill. While you never felt like you owed him anything, it definitely made you feel less guilty when you were doing something for him - even if it is just stopping him from eating out every night.

“You don’t, I know,” You joke, hip bumping him out of your way so you could grab a cutting board from his cabinet.

Matthew was over to the seats on the island, sitting in the one you’d decorated, “You’re going to be at our first home game right?”

“Of course, I planned my entire day around it,” You admit, knowing you’d made a silly promise to Matthew that you’d never miss a home game, “Why? Worried you’re going to bomb without me there?”

“I mean, yeah. I just-” Matthew starts, sighing, “After waiting for this deal and stuff I don’t want anyone to think it was a mistake.”

You didn’t realize your joke had actually struck a nerve. When you first became friends you didn’t think Matthew doubted his play or himself ever. He had a blind confidence, and he never let a mistake take over his whole game. It was something you actually admired, wondering if you could ever be that confident in yourself. But, when the Flames lost in the first round of the playoffs, and you’d gone to his place after the game, Matthew turned into a sad shell of a man in front of your eyes. That night you realized how much actually got to him, and while he listed off the mistakes he made in the series you’re heart broke with every word he said. The Canadian media wasn’t always easy, and it really bothered Matthew more than you think he even knew.

You turn around from the stove, “There’s not one person who doesn’t think you deserve your contract, and if they don’t I’ll personally tell them to fuck off.”

Matthew laughs, and your heart skips a beat, “I think I can do without you trying to fight anyone.” “Why? I’m absolutely terrifying,” You joke, your small frame wasn’t scary at all, but you weren’t about to let that stop you.

“You know what? You’re right,” Matthew says sarcastically.

“In all seriousness,” You start walking around the island to wrap your arms around Matthew’s shoulders, “I’ll always be proud of you.” Matthew tucks his head into your arms muttering a low thank you. The two of you spent the night together, catching up on your summers over the dinner you made. He told you about the trips he’d gone on, and his summer antics. You’d gone on about the vacation’s you’d gone on, and the time you spent with your family.

October 2019

You walked arm and arm with Brittney, Sean’s girlfriend, into the Saddledome for the Flames home opener. It was Saturday night, and you knew with the Kings coming to town on Tuesday the boys would definitely be celebrating their first win of the season if they came out on top tonight. You were excited, hoping they’d be able turn it around before it became a losing streak. You head up to your usual seats, walking into the family boxes with Brittany, all of the team’s significant others and families out for the first home game of the season. After finally grabbing a drink and sitting down you look down at the nice, spotting Matthew’s mop of hair buzzing around the ice.

“So anything change over the summer?” Brittany asks when she sees you looking at Matthew on the ice, a curious look on her face.

“Still best friends,” You say, shaking your head at her comment. You’d heard it a million times, about how Matthew needed to have you at his games, sitting with the rest of the team’s families or how you were always at his place or vice-versa but you assured everyone who asked that you were just friends - because you were.

“Okay but you can be best friends and date, you guys know that right?” Brittany says, trying to make you see it from her point of view.

“Britt, I really mean it, we’re just friends,” You shrug, not really in the mood to continue defending yourself. You ignore the knowing look she gives you, already knowing that her usual comeback would be asking you why you’re getting so defensive.

By the time the third period rolled around, the Flames were up 3-0 and you were sure this was going to end as a win. When the period was finally over, you headed down to the locker with Brittany to wait for Matthew to head out. 

He barreled out of the locker room, scanning the room to find you, running over and hugging you tightly, “We wonnn.”

You knew he was running on an adrenaline rush that he only ever got out of winning, “You did, are we going out tonight?”

“We are Y/N, Chucky can stay home,” You hear Sam Bennett’s voice behind you.

“Sam, what makes you assume I want to spend time with you?” You quip back before Matthew even has a chance to defend himself.

“You guys are really meant to be, you’re both cold as hell,” Sam says, shaking his head at the two of you.

You ignore Sam’s comment, turning to Matthew, “Ready to go?”

Matthew nods, leading the way to his car in the parking garage at the arena. You both slide in, you immediately grab his phone to change the music.

“You know it’s my car,” He says, already knowing you controlled the music in every car ride you took, despite who was driving.

“You know I don’t care,” You say back immediately, “Do you want to drop off your car?”

“No, you drink, I’ll just have a beer,” Matthew says, never wanting to let himself get too drunk if you were going to, afraid something might happen to you.

“But you guys won-” You start to protest only to be immediately cut off.

“But you had class all week, and don’t think I didn’t hear you stress crying after I went to bed the other night,” Matthew says, immediately shutting you up. You had a long week, and the idea of getting to go out with the safety net of Matthew taking care of you didn’t sound terrible.

“Fine, you win,” You say as you pull up to the bar you were meeting the rest of the team at. You walked in, immediately spotting Brittany and Sean from afar, walking over them wrapping Brittany in a hug.

“I’m really happy you guys are all back in town,” You say, still a little tipsy from the drinking you’d done at the game.

“Happy to see all of us, or just Chucky,” Sean says, giving you a look.

“Enough with that,” You snap, already having heard it from his girlfriend.

“Enough with what?” Matthew says, stepping behind you placing a drink in your hand.

“Nothing, Sean’s being a moron,” You say, leaning into his chest when he places a protective arm across your chest.

The rest of the night was an eventful one to say the least. You’d danced with the girls, Sam made you take more shots than a person should, and it was safe to say you were drunk to say the least. You finally walk back over to the table that Matthew was sitting at, talking to Noah.

“Matty, can you grab me another drink?” You ask, trying to convince him so you didn’t have to. You knew it wouldn’t take much and he nods and takes your empty glass without a second thought. 

Once Matthew was out of earshot, Noah turns to you, “You’ve really got him wrapped your finger.”

“Noah -” You start to defend yourself again.

“Don’t Noah me,” Noah immediately cuts you off, “Admit it, you have to see what everyone else sees.”

“You know what? I do and yes, it confuses the shit out of me but Noah, I like Matthew, a lot, but I don’t think he feels the same way about me,” Your drunken confession slips, your hand immediately covering your mouth that you actually admitted it.

Noah looks at you, eyes wide in surprise, “Oh my god, I was right?”

You start to give him a lecture about prying into your business before he cuts you off, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You smile, “Thanks Noah.”

Matthew comes back and hands you a water despite you asking him for another drink, you roll your eyes, knowing he’s just decided to cut you off before you got messy.

“Ready to go?” You ask, sipping the water.

“Whenever you are, are you going home or staying by me?” Matthew asks and you notice Noah shaking his head at the two of you.

“Home, I need to spend my Sunday studying,” You say, leaning back into Matthew from the barstool you were sitting on.

Matthew nods, grabbing your hand and walking you back out to his car, opening the door for you to slide in. The drive back to your place was short, and you wished it was longer, admiring how the streetlights made Matthew look incredibly handsome. You knew the small crush that you’d been haboring since you met him only made it’s special guest appearance after you’d been drinking, and you were going to let it take over even just for the night. When Matthew stops in front of your building, he tosses his car into park so he can walk you to your door, even though you always insist nothing awful will probably happen to you between then and the minute elevator ride up to your floor. 

When you step in front of your door you wrap your arms around Matthew’s waist, tucking your head into his chest, “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

You feel him place a small kiss on your head, something he did often, “Anytime, get some sleep okay?”

You nod, “Text me when you’re home Matthew,” You say, using his full name to make yourself sound more serious. He laughs and heads back to the elevator while you walk into your apartment, walking into your bedroom and slipping one of Matthew’s old London Knights shirts on, passing out immediately.

November 2019

With November came an enormous amount of stress, the Flames weren’t playing up to their usual standards, losing five games on the road. Matthew was grouchy to say the least, you were always trying to cheer him up but there was only so much you could do while he was gone. You weren’t in the best mood either, the stress from school starting to build up. You’d spent more nights crying from stress in the comfort of Matthew’s empty apartment more than you’d admit to anyone, never quite feeling like you could catch up with all of your work. Which is why you were sitting on Matthew’s couch, head in your hands while you tried to finish the paper you had due at midnight when you hear him finally come home from his road trip, dropping his bag at the door with a bang, causing you to jump.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” Matthew says, in a harsher tone he usually used. You could tell the losing streak was starting to get to him, his shoulders were tight, and the bags under his eyes were prominent.

“Do you not want me to be?” You say, while Matthew never complained when you were at his place, you did understand if he wanted to be alone.

“No you’re fine,” He says, “Are you going to come to my game tomorrow?” Your heart sunk, you wanted to, but you couldn’t justify spending a night at the Saddledome watching him play when you had so much work to finish before the chaos of finals started. You look at his sad eyes, afraid you might upset him if you said no.

“Matty, I have so much work I have to do, I don’t think I can,” You say, closing your eyes as if that would lessen the blow, you open one, seeing Matthew’s face crushed in front of you.

“It’s fine,” He says, the words not sounding like anything was okay at all, “We’ll just lose - again.”

“Don’t put that on me,” You defend, not wanting to feel guiltier than you are, “You miss shit in my life all the time because you’re gone.”

You regretted the words as soon as you said it. It didn’t matter if Matthew was there or not, anything important in your life, he made sure you knew he was proud of you. If it wasn’t a flood of texts, it was a bouquet of flowers to your door. He made sure you never felt like he forgot about you while he was gone, and you knew you were just acting out.

You hear Matthew sigh, a sign he was trying to keep his temper in check, “Maybe you should just go.” “I will,” You say, gathering your things and heading towards the door, turning back to him one more time, “For the record, you’ll be fine whether or not I’m there or not.”

--

You didn’t sleep that night - at all. Your mind replayed that stupid little argument you had gotten into with Matthew. You’d never actually fought with him, sure you bickered, but as soon as you’d call him out on his shit, he would let it go and that would be it. He looked so hurt by your words, and you knew you owed him an apology. You tried calling, texting, you even sent him an email, but he was ignoring you and you knew it. 

You lay on your bed, typing a paper for one of your classes while watching the Flames game, the Flames down against the Avs 3-2. You watched as Matthew got sent to the box, for the third time that evening, finally breaking his stick when he sat down. You knew he was frustrated, and you couldn’t help but feel like you might have had something to do with it. You turn the game off with five minutes left, not wanting to see Matthew’s face after they lost their sixth game in a row. You finally finish your paper, setting your laptop down and getting ready for bed. You slip into bed, ready to finally try and get some sleep when you hear Matthew’s voice from your living room, your roommate telling him that you were in bed. 

He opens your bedroom door, poking his head through, “Can I come in?”

You nod, watching as he steps into your room, still in his gameday suit. He lays down, immediately putting his head into your lap, while your hands move to play with his curls.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, not wanting to break the silence in your room.

“You don’t need to be,” He says, “You were right - you always are.”

“Not always,” You smile, watching as his eyes close under your touch, “Do you want to stay here? We can watch a movie - whatever you want.” Matthew smiles and you knew you’d said the right thing, knowing that after a bad game it’s better to distract him until he finally opens up, “Can I have sweats?”

“Open my top drawer,” You say, “It’s mostly your clothes anyways.”

Matthew laughs, opening the dresser and realizing how many pairs of sweatpants and hoodies you’d actually stolen from him. It wasn’t your fault he has the comfiest hoodies known to man, and that he always offered them to you when it got cold. He steps into your bathroom to change, coming back out and climbing into your bed, pulling you closer to him so you could snuggle into his chest, grabbing your remote and throwing on a movie on Netlifx.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but somewhere halfway through the movie you finally knocked out for the first time in two days, wrapped up in Matthew’s arms. The two of you blocking out the noise from the outside world.

December 2019

With December comes the craziness of finals, but you weren’t about to let it stop you from celebrating Matthew’s birthday in the most ridiculous way you could think of. You’d set up a full on surprise party, using Noah as your partner in crime. The Flames were lucky enough to have a Sunday off, allowing you to have Noah keep Matthew out of his apartment all day so you could decorate. You went all out with decorations and invited everyone you knew was important to him - even having some of his friends from St. Louis fly up for the occasion. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing all of this for someone you’re not even dating,” You hear Brittany say, handing you the other half of the Happy Birthday banner you’d bought. 

“He literally flew me out to St. Louis over the summer for my birthday,” You say, “I think the least I could do is throw a party.”

Brittany shakes her head at you, distracted by Sean carrying in drinks before she could make a comment about how you spent your birthday with Matthew and his family. You greeted all of the guests as they arrived, waiting for Noah’s text that him and Matthew were on their way. Once you got the text, you had everyone hide out, shutting off all of the lights. You hear them come up the hallway, opening the door to Matthew’s place. You all jump out and yell surprise, promptly scaring the birthday boy. He smiles at you, knowing you were the only person who wanted to make a big deal out his birthday in the first place.

“Thank you,” He says, stepping over to you after he greets everyone at the party.

“How did you know it was me?” You joke, “It could’ve been Sam.”

“Because when I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday, you proceeded to tell me that’s fine,” Matthew says, “and I know you were lying.”

You laugh, he was always able to tell whether or not you were lying from your body language alone. It made it easier to just tell him how you were feeling, even if you didn’t want to.

The party was dwindling down by the time you saw Matthew again, his body swaying indicating that he was definitely drunk. You laugh, getting the last groups of guests to head out so you could clean up and get Matthew to bed.

Once you shut the door, pushing Sam and Noah out while they made jokes about you and Matthew walking down the hallway, you turn around to see Matthew grabbing himself a water.

“Alright birthday boy, let’s get you to bed,” you say, trying to move his much larger frame into his bedroom. You’d only ever had to do it once before, a night out after the Flames clinched their playoff spot last season that ended in Matthew puking outside of the bar, and you were sore from trying to haul him to bed.

“Will you stay?” He says when you finally get him to sit on his bed.

“I mean, I planned on it,” you say, gesturing to your bag that was in it’s usual spot in his guest room.

“No in here,” He argues back, crossing his arms like a child. You knew you shouldn’t give in, and you knew climbing into bed with him was only going to make that small crush worse, the crush already growing from the last time you’d slept in the same bed as him. 

You sigh, walking over to his dresser to grab him some clothes, tossing them over to him, “I’m just going to go change.”

You walk across the hall to his guest room, slipping out of the jeans you’d been wearing and throwing on a pair of shorts and one of Matthew’s t-shirts. You tossed your hair in a bun, opening the door to Matthew’s room, seeing him in bed waiting for you. You smile, sliding into bed and cuddling yourself into Matthew’s chest as soon as you laid down.

“Thank you for the party,” Matthew whispers, hands twirling the ends of your hair.

“I told you, it wasn’t me,” You joke, finally letting sleep take over you.

January 2020

When Matthew got voted into the All Star Game, you made sure to tell him an obnoxious amount of time. You also insisted on blaring “All Star” by Smash Mouth in his apartment for an entire week before he told you he was going to take his spare key back if you didn’t stop. What you didn’t expect, was for him to insist you at least came for the actual weekend of the game. But once you found out that Brady was also playing in the game, you decided you should probably make the trip down.

You arrived Friday morning, Matthew making some time in the craziness of the weekend to pick you up from the airport, having you stay with him at his parent’s house. You arrive in the mass chaos of the Tkachuk household, his mom scrambling to get everything ready for the party they planned on having after the game on Saturday. You set your bag down, immediately running into the kitchen to see Brady and Taryn.

“Matt, you can leave now,” Brady says, wrapping you in a tight hug, “We’d much rather have Y/N here.” You laugh, missing the dynamic of seeing Matthew around his family. He was always more relaxed when he was with his family, even though he’d never admit that he actually did miss them during the season.

“Brady she’s my best friend,” Matthew says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his chest.

“To be fair, I like Taryn more than both of you,” You mutter between the bickering boys.

You spend your Friday running around with Matthew’s mom, helping her with the party as much as you could. You enjoyed your time with her, knowing that it made Matthew happy to see how much his parents like having you around. Friday and Saturday seem like a blur, the craziness of the All Star Game taking over. You spent most of the time with Taryn and the rest of Matthew’s family that came to town, many of whom you’d met the last time the Sens came into town. You finally arrive back at the Tkachuk’s Matthew riding the high from winning the actual game.

Once the party was in full swing you were dragged around the house by Matthew, introducing you to players he’s played with in the past. You had a long conversation with Mitch Marner, who you found out Matthew actually played with when he played for the London Knights. You spent the night of some of the best athletes in the world and you couldn’t help but wonder why Matthew kept you around when he kept company like his friends who played around the league.

You step in Matthew’s bedroom, trying to take a moment for yourself. You look in the mirror, and sigh, just not sure of why you were there in the first place. It didn’t happen much anymore, but every once in a while the thoughts of not being good enough found themselves creeping in your mind. You couldn’t help it, as your hands started to shake, you heard the door open and Matthew step into his room.

“You alright?” He asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Why are you friends with me?” You ask harshly.

“What’s this about Y/N?” He asks, confused at your tone.

“I mean, you just, all of the people in your life are these accomplished athletes and are insanely good at what they do, and for some reason you choose to spend all of your time with someone who cries every time they get too stressed out,” You rant out, worried about how Matthew would react to what you were saying. You’d never let him in on this part of you, the part that’s doubtful and scared that one mistake could ruin everything you’ve ever worked for.

You feel Matthew grab your hand, pulling you down to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, wiping away the stray tear that had fallen, “I don’t want to spend my time with anyone besides you, please don’t ever think differently. You’re funny and smart and you care about every person in your life even if they don’t deserve it. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to feel like this ever.” You smile, trying to hide the butterflies you feel in your stomach when Matthew’s thumb grazes your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“Do you want to stay in here and hangout for the rest of the night, just the two of us?” Matthew whispers, not wanting to break the comfortable silence between you two.

You nod, climbing into his bed and waiting for him to join you, putting on a movie and pulling you into his arms. You knew there was a giant party going on outside of those four walls of Matthew’s childhood bedroom, but nothing could be better than laying in his arms just the two of you.

February 2020

After the All Star Game, you threw yourself into your schoolwork knowing Matthew was headed on a two week road trip. You’d spent the two weeks catching up on an enormous amount of work, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it once Matthew finally got back to Calgary. You were grabbing a coffee before your class, when your phone rang in your pocket - Matthew’s caller ID appearing on the screen.

“Helllllo,” You answer, excited to hear his voice - even if it was just over the phone.

“Hey, do you have plans for Valentine’s Day?” He asks.

“I do not,” you say, knowing for a fact Matthew knew you didn’t.

“We have this Flames gala thing and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” He asks, and you can hear Johnny and Sam chirping him in the background.

“Matthew, that’s in like two days!” You say, scolding him for not asking you sooner so you could find a dress.

“I know, I just kind of forgot about asking you, I told the team I was taking you though,” He defends, knowing he said he was bringing a date before he even bothered to ask you.

“Yes I will go, but please remember to give me some WARNING next time,” You sigh into the phone, “Now if you’ll let me go, I need to go find a dress.”

“I keep an extra card in my nightstand, use it,” Matthew says, “And before you say no, consider it a gift for not killing me for telling you last minute.”

Initially you laugh, knowing Matthew kept an extra debit card in his apartment because he lost his more frequently than a normal person should, but once his words settled in you began the usual protest you gave him when it came to money, “Matthew…” you start, ready to explain to him that you don’t need him spending ridiculous amounts of money on you.

“Y/N, just take it,” He says, “I’m really too tired for this one.”

You sigh, “Fine, but this is the last time.” “Whatever you say, I’ll tell Brittany to make sure you use it,” He says, and you knew he wasn’t kidding, “Bye.”

You mutter a goodbye back, texting Brittany that you were in dire need of an emergency shopping experience before the Gala on Friday. She laughed when you called, already having received a text from Matthew to make sure that she made you use his card.

The night of the gala you head to Matthew’s, carrying your dress and all of the things you knew you would need to get ready, tossing them in his guest room when you arrive. You head into the bathroom, promptly starting with your makeup when you heard him get in from the rink, yelling about how he was going to shower and heading into his room. You finally set your hair into loose curls and start to step into your dress. The off the shoulder black dress stopped right above your knees and fit you like a glove. Brittany didn’t even tell you how much is cost, grabbing it and paying for it on Matthew’s card before you could even look. But, the way it made you feel outweighed the guilt you felt. You slip on the nude heels you chose to wear, and call Matthew in to help clasp your necklace.

“Wow,” He says, stepping behind you, fastening the necklace to your neck, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks Matty,” You say, turning out to take in the suit he was wearing. When you told him you decided to get something black, he was excited having had a dark maroon suit in his closet he wanted to wear, “You look alright I guess.” “I look alright?” He asks, lightly tickling at your sides, “You’re such a brat.”

You laugh, “You look super handsome, happy?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and leading you out to his car. The Gala was in full swing when you arrived, the room filled with his teammates, fans, and other important people in the city.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” You hear Noah’s voice behind you while Matthew was over having a conversation with one of the team’s trainers who was at the event.

“What Noah?” You ask, ready for the comment about Matthew taking you as his date.

“You look like that and Chucky still won’t lock you down? He’s really dumber than I thought,” Noah says, gesturing to you.

“Don’t you have a date you should be complimenting?” You say back, knowing Noah had brought some girl to the event, even though they were never around long.

“Not one that looks as good as you,” Noah says, “So, still got that little crush.”

“Yes and I’m done talking about it,” You say, watching Noah’s hands go up in defeat as Matthew steps behind you.

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asks, ignoring the face Noah was giving him for being so gentle with you.

You nod, grabbing his hand and following him out to the dancefloor. You place your arms around his neck while his move to your hips, swaying to the music. You look behind you, seeing Noah smirking at the two of you while dancing with his own date. You throw up your middle finger, not letting Matthew notice. The two of you spend the night with each other, dancing and having Matthew introduce you to a lot of people who were working in the front office with the team that you’d never met before. You couldn’t help but feel like something was changing between the two of you, especially when he kept his hand on your lower back while walking through the gala, or his hand gently stroking your thigh while you guys sat at your table.

March 2020

You never talked about how you spent your Valentine’s Day romantically slow dancing with your best friend at a Gala his team was throwing after that night. You couldn’t tell if thing’s had actually changed between the two of you, or if it was a result of the romantic atmosphere. Thing’s with Matthew had returned back to the normal routine, with the Flames in the middle of their playoff push, Matthew was around less, spending more and more time at the rink. You understood, taking the time to spend some time with your friends that weren’t him.

You finally both had a day off, deciding that you’d head over to his place to cook the both of you dinner. You arrive at his place before he does, placing your bags down and getting straight to cooking. You hear him come in, humming at the smells of the food.

“Hey stranger,” He says, joking about the fact that you haven’t been spending as much time together as you usually did.

“Oh please, you talked to me about your practice today on the phone for an hour, you’re hardly starved for attention,” You say, calling him out for being dramatic.

“I need all of your attention or I might actually die,” He says, wrapping you in a hug, “So what’s been up with you?” “Same old same old, this guy from my class asked me out on a date, I haven’t told him yes or no,” You shrug, moving back to cooking dinner.

“No,” He says, instantly, and you turn off the oven, turning around to face him.

“No?” You ask.

“I mean- uh- fuck,” He stutters, “You can’t go on a date with that guy I’m sure you’re too good for him.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, “Matthew I know you live in a world where you don’t want me to get hurt, but I can’t not date because you don’t want me to.”

“I know, I just-” He starts before you cut him off.

“You what Matthew? Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn’t go out with this guy,” You snap back.

“Because I want you to date me,” He says quietly, “I wanted this to be better, you deserve it to be perfect, but I love you so much, and I can’t keep denying it any longer. I love when you spend all of your time here because I love spending time with you. I love that you get along with my teammates, and my family. I love when you get dressed up to go out, because I get to walk around with the most beautiful girl in the world under my arm. I was just terrified you didn’t feel the same way and that you’d hate me. Then when we were dancing at the Gala it felt different, like you were as into me as I’m into you.”

You uncross your arms, walking around the island to stand in front of him, placing your arms around his neck, “That might have been the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” “Really? Cause I think I could do better-” Matthew starts, but you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. His hands move to cup your face, kissing you back slowly, the two of you melt into each other like you’d been made for each other all along.

“I love you too,” You mutter against his lips, feeling him smile.

“You’re not gonna go on that date right?” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

You laugh, “No, there’s only person I want taking me out on a date,” you joke, placing another kiss to his lips.

“Sounds like a lucky guy,” Matthew jokes back, kissing you again, solidifying how truly right it feels to finally be together.

[dorky-crow]

Basement Uncle

Just a little “slice of life” thing with Jim, Drake, LP & Gosalyn.

The chapters will be pretty short, around a thousand words as I’m not good at long chapters.

Chapter 1. Breakfast blues

Jim groaned as his eyes open, the noise coming from upstairs waking him from his slumber.

"god damn it, who the fuck gets up this early..." he muttered to himself before having a quick look at the clock that sat on a rickety small table, it was 6 in the morning.

"fuck me running" Jim groaned as he pulled on a bath robe to cover his naked upper body. the older duck ascended the steps that lead out of the basement he slept in and pulled open the door into the main hallway of the house. he heard something sizzling on a fry pan, the sound of liquid being poured and of course, fuckface running his mouth.

"good morning, Jim" Drake said how he sounded so chipper this early was a mystery to the older duck. Jim sat down at the table, not responding to Drake, said duck then cleared his throat louder than needed and clearly fake.

"yeah, yeah good morning fuckface..."

"Jim! I've told you to stop the swearing, I don't want Gosalyn to pick up on it"

Jim rolled his eyes at this, "oh please, she's a teen, she probably knows more swears than I do!"

Drake sighed as he kept the eggs & sausages from burning, "Breakfast will be ready soon, feel free to pour yourself some juice"

Jim grabbed the bottle of orange juice and was rather temped to just drink straight from the bottle for no other reason than to piss Drake off but he probably shouldn't push it so he settled on a glass, like most people. "So, Gos got school today?" Jim asked as he took a swig of the juice, the bitter taste of the juice making him cringe a little.

"yes, she does but speaking of which, I need to wake her up. be right back" Drake turned the heat down on the stove before leaving the room. as soon as his pink shirt covered body left, Jim started thinking about what he heard Drake saying before he entered, he couldn't make it out 100% as the sound of cooking covered it up and Jim's hearing wasn't the best but it sounded rather important, whatever it didn't matter now.

"hiya, Jim" Gosalyn said as she entered the room with a yawn

"mornin'" Jim raised his glass in welcome as the younger duck sat in the chair next to him, 

"where's the big guy?"

"you mean LP? he's still in Duckburg, Mr. McDuck needed him to work late into the night so he's staying over there but he'll be back tonight"

"what did McFu-" Jim stopped himself, as Gos was in the room and he probably shouldn't swear while she's in the room, "McDuck, I mean, what does McDuck need him for? did the old goat need someone else to flaunt over the money he sued from me?" Jim said bitterly as he drank the rest of his orange juice.

"I'm not sure what it was, something about an adventure or something" Drake said as he put the sausage & scrambled eggs on their plates.

"Now, Gosalyn, did you do all your hope work?"

"yes, dad"

"are they correct?" "yes, dad!" Gosalyn said as she spooned some eggs into her mouth"

“thats good now, is there any school events or something me or LP need to know about?"

"well....there's Hockey try outs later, I guess"

"I'll be happy to take you"

"hockey, eh? sounds pretty violent, I approve" Jim said with a smirk

Drake sighed "Anyways, Gos, that all sounds really good but now, finish your breakfast & get ready for school"

"yes, dad" Jim continued eating as the father & daughter kept talking. as much as he hated living in the cramped basement of the McMallard house, it was better than living in a box in the streets, which was the best he could do after Scrooge McDuck basically sued him for everything he own after the incident at the movie studio and Drake was kind enough to give the washed up star a place to stay.

Jim's feelings towards Drake are...complex, yes he helped him out of a dire situation but he still couldn't let go of the whole replacement thing despite it not mattering anymore.

"Jim? you ok?"

"what?"

"you've been staring off into space for the past couple of minutes"

"yeah, I'm fine" he said as he quickly finished off the breakfast before handing the empty plate & dirty cutlery to Drake

"thanks, Jim..."

"you're welcome"

He returned to the basement, the single bed was surrounded by old boxes except for one side. the bed was the only real piece of furniture down here, the table only just counted as it could fall apart if he touched it too hard. Drake had told him many times that he could clean up & move the boxes if Jim wanted, he probably should but he was just very lazy about it.

He bent down and pulled the suit case out from under the bed, it held clothes, a toothbrush, a poster from the old Darkwing Duck show and a few knickknacks. he should of unpacked by now, it's been a couple of months but where could he put all this stuff?Jim sighed loudly. well, if this is gonna be where he lives he should at least make it a home but he'd need LP's help to move the boxes as Jim would probably hurt himself if he tried but the himbo could do it and he'd have to talk to Drake about going shopping for some furniture.he closed the suitcase and put it back under the bed. sure, his current living situation isn't perfect but he's gonna make it better.

[zillennial97]

Enemies to Lovers | Larry Fanfic Recs

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy | 149k | Explicit

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.- A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry | 136k | Explicit

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

we're not friends, we could be anything by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart | 115k | Explicit

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “What that supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Harry narrows his eyes right back. “It was a good joke.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jokes require laughter, Curls.” Louis glances down at Harry’s thighs again, Christ. “Your pants must be so tight they’re restricting airflow to your brain.”

Harry wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Pretty sure yoga is supposed to increase airflow, blood flow, and all that,” he responds dryly, finally jumpstarting himself and walking away from Louis towards his own bedroom.

Louis can’t help but stare at his broad back, still sheen with drying sweat, and his perky bum in the tight yoga pants.

Louis swallows. Christ.

...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey | 113k | Explicit

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can't Lose by dolce_piccante | 112k | Mature

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Dance to the Distortion by Lis (domesticharry) | 96k | Explicit

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | 95k | Explicit

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

The Sidelines by RedRidingStiles | 47k | Explicit

"Alright, I know you guys are the best of friends but I'd like you to do this for the rest of the team,” Cowell says, making the rest of the team snicker. "So I want both of you to compliment each other." "I hate your trainers. I mean that in the nicest way possible. They're very...yellow," Louis says, arms crossed as he offers a fake close-lipped grin. "It's really nice of you to blow anyone you find slightly attractive," Harry replies, a sickening sweet smile on his lips. "Thank you, children, let me remind you this is a college hockey team. Try again," Coach says, completely unamused.

Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can't stand one another, since they can't keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other

Wonderwall by AFangirlFantasy | 43k | General Audiences

Taking the sheet cluttered with times available for the next few weeks, Louis notices a pattern in the list. The name of the person Perrie had just mentioned: Harry Styles. It’s written at least seven times, and three of which are during timeframes Louis wants.

“Who the fuck is Harry Styles?”

“You’re about to find out,” she answers, pointing over Louis’ shoulder.

Or a Love/Hate College AU where Louis Tomlinson is the lead singer of The Rogue - the most popular band on campus - and Harry Styles is the talented Freshman unknowingly challenging all that.

All the Right Moves by cherrystreet | 32k | Explicit

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

Nicotine by KrisStylinson | 32k | Explicit

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups | 31k | Explicit

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?” “Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?”

(Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

We're Like Bumper Cars by sincehewaseighteen | 31k | Explicit

“I have won, I won the final cross country. I win, Harry--”

“Whoever gets to fucking nationals wins it, pretty boy,” Harry teases. “You haven’t won. Interhouse is nothing compared to nationals, or interstate. You haven’t even won interschool. You can dream all you fucking want that you’ve won.”

Louis becomes so ignorant he decides to no longer eye the boy taunting him. “Trophies prove it all, Styles.”

“Where’s your trophy for biggest asshole?”

“Where’s yours for winning cross country?”

Harry growls before hooking his fingers in Louis’ belt loops and bringing them together for a flat kiss.

Or the AU where Louis and Harry are rivals of the century and Cross Country competitors before things get complicated and they play pretend.

After Hours by Velvetoscar for shipsdrifting | 26k | Not Rated

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are the bane of each other's existences. Unfortunately, they're already in love--even if they aren't completely aware of this minor detail.

[A "You've Got Mail" AU]

When It's Late At Night by Rearviewdreamer | 25k | Mature

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

Love Me Please by angelichl | 23k | Explicit

Louis hates Harry, which is fine because he would really rather prefer to avoid him at all costs.

The only problem?

They're soulmates.

runnin' like you did by orphan_account | 20k | Explicit

“Should we tell him?”

When Lauren is met with everyone either nodding their heads or shrugging, she takes a deep breath. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious by now.” She stalls, sounding ominous and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.

“What is obvious by now?” Louis asks. He’s starting getting anxious. “I swear to God, spit it out. Stop being so damn cryptic.”

“I—We think it’s pretty obvious that you’re in love with Harry,” she states simply and shrugs as if she isn’t telling him he’s in love with the second—Nick being the first—most annoying person on the planet.

or, a college au where Louis knows how to hold a grudge and is definitely not in love with Harry Styles

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews | 20k | Mature

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

once bitten and twice shy by pinkcords | 19k | Mature

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

That's How I Know by allwaswell16 | 19k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

Get Off of My Cloud by Marora_Daris | 9k | Explicit

Harry is the most annoying neighbour that sexually frustrated Louis could have. Niall decides it's a good idea to handcuff them together.

Featuring guinea pigs, animal print leggings and inappropriate boners.

Erase My History, (Expo)se Me by BayouSexual, pacificrimjob for Edandcurly | 6k | Teen And Up Audiences

“My hair does not smell like strawberries.”

Louis blinks up at Mr. Styles. “I never said your hair smells like strawberries. How would I even know that?” Harry’s hair does smell like strawberries, Harry himself smells like strawberries, everyone who’s been within three feet of him knows this. ~~~~~~~~ Or the one where Harry and Louis both teacher history, their students think they should date, and one pink dry-erase marker is trying to ruin their lives (with a little help of course).

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of April. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Heat | Explicit | 1433 words

In which Louis and Harry mate with each other.

2) A Desperate Time | Explicit | 2,52 words

Aka Harry and Louis have a pee kink that leads to Louis pissing in Harry's lap. Graphic, kinky smut. Read at your own desire.

3) Bohemian Rhapsody Is Not A Documentary (But Freddieismyqueen) | Explicit | 3933 words

Note: There’s a BH mention.

A day in life of Harry Styles and his smol sunflower [quarantine edition]

Aka how many wonderful adjectives can be applied to Louis Tomlinson and his everything?

4) Just A Bit Of Work | Explicit | 4027 words

In which Marcel is a virgin, and becomes his office's amorous co-worker's next big conquest.

5) I Don't Wanna Look At Anything Else That I Saw You | Mature | 4375 words

After the hiatus of One Direction, all 5 members have their own solo careers. Louis, who just can't move on from Alex, his ex-boyfriend and bandmate, meets Harry, who's supposed to be Alex's doppelganger in his new single's music video.

6) Like Lovers In A Movie | Explicit | 4565 words

A grumpy Louis and a movie night don't mix. Harry's still able to fix it.

7) Christmas Lights In Paris | Mature | 4671 words

In which Harry makes a big mistake and has to get Louis back, while Louis' a cute, soft baker.

8) Wasting My Time | Explicit | 7856 words

Harry is in love with Louis. He can't do anything about it, until he can.

Louis is in love with Harry. He doesn't have a chance, until he does.

9) The Promotion. | Explicit | 8143 words

After being promoted, Harry is challenged to prove he is one of the guys. Whatever it is he had in mind, he never thought he'd be expected to fuck an escort in front of his colleagues and boss during this corporate party.

10) Want You To Want Me | Explicit | 8836 words

Harry likes Louis, Louis likes Harry. But it's not that simple. Louis doesn't know if he can handle Harry's lifestyle and feels overwhelmed. Can Harry convince him he's worth it?

11) Don't Hold Back Now | Mature | 11103 words

Harry gives Louis everything he asks for except for the one thing he wants the most. If only Louis knew who Harry truly was.

Or the demon Harry AU.

12) We Will Get Through This | Mature | 11219 words

Because of quarantine, Louis has to stay home with his roommate, Harry, who he's never really hung out with before. He's a sweet alpha who seems to really care and that annoys the hell out of Louis. But as he gets to know the alpha, he realizes it might not be dislike that he's feeling

13 Sunrise and Pixie Dust | Mature | 14816 words

Harry's taking a walk at sunrise in the forest he knows like the back of his hand when the wind starts blowing, the sky turns pink, and golden glitter starts to fall from the sky. He’s not sure about what’s happening, but when he comes face to face with a gorgeous winged-creature, he can’t help but be immediately mesmerized.

Or an AU in which Harry finds himself crossing the borders between two worlds.

14) Happier | Explicit | 15590 words

Literally based off of Ed Sheeran's song Happier.

15) My Heart Was Stolen, Can You Return It? | Explicit | 15824 words

Based on the prompt: "He's a cop. He’s the owner of a record store. A sudden rash of break-ins brings him to his store over and over and over again, until it becomes obvious that he might be tripping the alarm on purpose—just to see him. That’s illegal—but he's kind of falling for him, too."

I don't remember where I found this, maybe in a book I own or in a post I saw, but credit to whoever actually came up with it.

16) V | Explicit | 20275 words

Harry pays him to dance, Louis enjoys the sex on the side, and that’s all that ties them together. Whatever else the enigmatic man does is none of Louis’ fucking business.

Louis works at a club owned by infamous Harry Styles, leader of the largest criminal organization this side of the country. As they twirl closer together police and rival gangs start to gain the upper hand, forcing everyone's loyalty to be questioned.

17) I’m Having Your Baby (It's None of Your Business) | Mature | 26383 words

A bet can cost you a lot. Harry learns this in the weirdest of ways.

Louis just wanted a baby, and he got so much more.

18) Crush | Explicit | 26741words

Based off the song Crush by Mandy Moore.

19) My Love’s Not Simple (It’s Fragile) | Explicit | 27554 words

Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

20) Naked Attraction #2 | Mature | 29159 words

Louis Tomlinson is the first openly gay football player in the Premier football League. He was outed by the paps, but he’s had to embrace it since then. To show he doesn’t have shame in it, he goes onto Naked Attraction, and all the money will go to LGBTQ+ support, but he has made some changes to the show. Incidentally, he meets a certain Harry Styles there, and that is when things get interesting...

21) Compete Against The Stars | Mature | 30980 words

An ABO au where Louis finds out he's claimed to another Alpha. Angst ensues.

22) Where I Should Be | Explicit | 31324 words

Or, the affair AU where Harry is getting married, Louis is in love with his best friend, and they only have this life to get it right.

23) Will You Be My Boyfriend? | Explicit | 32484 words

Based on the prompt: "You’re at a party when you spot an ex. Quickly, you urgently pretend to be dating the nearest person, who happens to be very attractive."

24) Descendants of the Night | Explicit | 34371 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry is one of the old world. His best friends Liam and Niall are too. Zayn is a transient. Harry is newly back to the country after years of living in the city and he doesn’t know where to turn when confronted with finding Niall near death after a brutal attack.

“Liam, it’s me...I’ve heard you and the others talk about where to get medical care, Niall is in dire need. Where do I take him?”

There is only doctor in their remote part on England that Liam knows of who can help someone like Niall.

Louis Tomlinson.

Liam fears for what might happen when one like Harry meets one like Louis.

25) The Sidelines | Explicit | 47078 words

Note: There are mentions of Top Louis.

Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can't stand one another, since they can't keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other.

26) Forgive The Urgency, But Hurry Up And Wait | Explicit | 53701 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Louis' going to do better. He’s going to have all of the uncomfortable conversations and the relationship talks. He’s going to make himself be a good boyfriend.

And he’s got absolutely no idea where to start.

27) Things I Can't | Not Rated | 67495 words

Louis has a plan for his life. He’s going to be the first in his family to finish college. He’s going to be a doctor - the best damn doctor in the country. And he’s going to work his ass off to make sure his younger siblings never have to wonder whether they have the means to pursue their dreams.

He doesn’t have space in his plan for a relationship with an effortlessly alluring musician, and certainly not for the child that unexpectedly results from that union. Louis is at a crossroads he never thought to plan for, and now he must make a decision: between what he wants now, and what he wants most.

28) Join Me In The Afterlife | Explicit | 262289 words

Or, the one where Louis is a simple guy - all he wants from his summer break is to spend some quality time with his mother, get to know her new husband, and learn to play the guitar. Nothing out of the ordinary, that is for sure. However, life has a funny way of working and when Louis finds a strange boy sitting on his bed one sunny day, his summer break takes a turn for the better (or worse) when he discovers a ghost has stolen his heart from the get-go.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[bigbrotherlouis]

i would love a directors cut for the first scrimmage scene from kinda like that this ends in smoke!

boy oh boy okay. i was very conscious while writing that this scene needed to do A Lot: it needed to establish, at least a little, what is standing in for a hockey game, establish the team fighting dynamic, and showcase patty’s powers. that last one, in particular, needed to be really sharp because it sets up the conflict and conceit for the rest of the fic, which is: it’s dangerous for patty to be touched. (original)

They’re close to the last people in the training room, wandering into the nearly full space. Nolan goes pink when everyone stops to look at him, the whole team in their blacks and oranges, the support staff in their whites and navies. (i had a whole world of worldbuilding that i wanted to do with this fic but my momentum got cut off in exactly the wrong way at exactly the wrong time. i might revisit it in the future, but by the end i was just trying to get everything DONE) It’s a clear delineation of team and not team, and Nolan seems to have picked the wrong colour. TK could’ve fucking told him.

“You could’ve told me,” he hisses and peers through the onset blurry confusion. (really enjoyed putting thought into what different emotions could manifest as! confusion makes everything blurry!) 

“Told you… oh. No, it’s chill. You’re new and usually it doesn’t matter if you’re in uniform.”

It makes him stand out more, a target on his back. An anomaly. He scowls at his shoes, breathing through the restless energy that’s taken up residence in the room. (nolan being set apart, by choice or not, is a big theme) If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought there was a storm coming, that Laughts had let his lightning go.

The last person on the team must finally find their way in because the door snicks shut with a click audible over the quiet talking. It’s like a signal, the way everyone goes quiet and swings their head in Nolan’s direction. It feels like being pinned and, for a split second, all he can feel is the overwhelming lilt of his own fear. It’s so strong, he half-wonders if he’s projecting or intaking, if someone nearby is getting hunted. (being the new guy is scary)

“Nolan Patrick,” something crackles over the speakers and Nolan flinches. “Welcome to the team.”

There’s a whooping that goes up from the boys, loud and unexpected. TK yells with them and looks like he’s a split second away from elbowing him in the side.

A black-suited figure comes down, one that Nolan recognizes as Coach, with Claude at his shoulder. He nods instead of extending his hand to shake. Nolan inclines his head back.

“Now, Patrick. We’ll get you back in the lab for individual testing soon enough, but we usually like to do the introductory session with everyone else, helps everyone know what they’re working with. No one’s going to intentionally hurt you, so don’t do any permanent damage.” (i did not want to write boring testing and wanted to get to the good part, so i made it work)

“I’ll try not to,” Nolan says after a second.

“Scrimmage first. You’re with Claude. Divide up, boys.” He yells the last part and the crowd starts to split between oranges and charcoals, lining up against opposite walls of the oval-shaped room. TK gives him a mischievous smile and then disappears, reappearing down at the other side of the long, long hall.

“Don’t be nervous, kid,” Claude says quietly, duly scanning the room as he takes in his team. He’s excited, Nolan can feel it patter against his skin like raindrops. “It’s all good fun, eh?”

“It’s training.” (nolan and claude’s dynamic is so important to me personally)

He smiles, sharp. “Fun training. Low stakes.”

Easy for him to say, he’s not being watched by a hundred pairs of eyes from every side, waiting to watch him fail. He doesn’t bother to say this.

“Just don’t get too close to Laughton. Or Coots.”

“I don’t know who Coots is,” he mumbles and Claude snickers, shifting his weight. There’s a warning whistle.

“Alright, Nolan. Are you defensive or offensive?” (i wanted to preserve some structure from hockey so it’s not so different. i messed with lines a little because i couldn’t think of a good reason why defense/offense shouldn’t be mixed, but i genuinely tried to keep people’s positioning consistent  with their real life position)

Nolan frowns deeper. “Uh, neither?” Claude swings around to look at him in surprise and he feels his shoulders inching up towards his ears. “Or maybe both,” he offers. “Not sure.”

Claude stares at him for a second. “You were second in the Academy and you don’t even know what’s your positioning?” (i actually couldn’t decide if nolan’s ability was more defense or offense, so i handwaved it)

Nolan chews on his cheek for a second. His ability isn’t so easy to position, isn’t so easy to fit into a designation. It‘s part of what makes him wanted. “Well… yeah. I guess.”

He mutters something that sounds like French and then heaves a sigh.

“Okay, just… don’t get flattened. Or shocked. (foreshadowing!) And don’t permanently harm anyone, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Stay behind me if you need protection but watch out for people coming around back. TK’s sneaky like that.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t hit anyone in orange.”

“I won’t,” Nolan says and Claude grins at him again.

“Watch out for JVR’s teeth.” (this is just claude messing with him)

“I don’t know who anyone is,” he reminds him, mildly exasperated, just as the second whistle goes, and the entire room explodes into furious movement.

Nolan’s done scrimmages like this before, of course he has, but it’s different this time. Different when it’s people who know their boundaries, know their abilities, and aren’t just trying to figure it all out. (i needed a reason for nolan to not keep his cool later, and this seemed as good as a reason as any) No one screams because they got hit by a too-strong blast, or shorts out in the middle of the neutral zone, or collapses. (the flip side is, of course, i then needed to describe the difference between juniors/the real thing) Instead, the two sides flow together like water, easy and fluid, as the sounds of a fight start up. It tastes like ozone again, sweetened by eagerness and fondness. They’re having fun, Nolan realises, like G said.

The two of them hang at the back of their crowd, a thin edge of frustration coming from Claude, and he knows that they’re in the back for him, that Claude usually is up front, leading. (claude likes to play, in every universe)

“We can—” he starts and cuts himself off when a… something… lands in front of them. Claude’s grin turns delighted, eager, hungry.

“Oh, a rematch, ya fuckin’ pigeon?” G says and the monster chirps, sharp teeth snapping. “You’re fucking on.”  (i chose JVR’s ability purely to make this joke. every power in here is either carefully chosen for plot reasons, or to make a joke)

“Uh,” says Nolan.

“Watch my back,” he manages to shout and then he’s launching himself at the creature. Nolan whirls around and watches his back.

“So you’re defensive,” says TK, appearing in front of him with a blink. He’s unwrapping a protein bar. (speedsters eating all the time is one of my favourite tropes) “Interesting.”

“I’m not— anything.”

“Okay, Mr. Number Two In The Academy,” he teases back, half garbled from the food in his mouth. “Are you supposed to be guarding?”

“I guess?”

TK snorts. “Let’s see what you can do, pretty boy.” (he’s watched too many bad superhero movies)

He blurs and Nolan feels something crash into his body, an impossible weight that nearly pushes him over. He gets his feet under him just in time, manages to stumble instead of fall, and TK is in the place he just vacated. (this served a lot of purposes! it slows down the fight scene a little so it paces correctly, gives a little more insight into both how TK processes scrimmages and his characterisation a little, and it gives them more time to build rapport.)

“Think I can distract your captain long enough for JVR to pin him?”

“I think you would’ve done it already if that was your plan,” Nolan answers, just as a hand clamps down on his shoulder. TK wasn’t lying about being a distraction, then. “Fuck,” he sputters out and the hand drives him down, impossibly heavy. (there’s a lot of potential abilities that could’ve sparked this reaction-- we see laughts do it later-- but i needed something not permanently damaging but still dire. i know later i say provy’s invulnerable, because that would be a quick way to explain for people, but what’s really going on here is that he’s controlling his density, and that’s what makes him hard to hurt.)  Without thinking, he wraps his own fingers around the strange wrist and opens up the connection, funnels everything he can through his palm, and lets loose.

His attacker screams. (a scream and a short sentence like this is a very effective tool in communicating the gravity of a situation.)

There’s a whistle and the whole room freezes, everyone turning to look at the two of them. Nolan’s on his knees and the man is hunched over him, only upright because of his knees braced against Nolan’s back and his fingers in a death grip on Nolan’s shoulder. (figuring out the physical positioning for this was fun)

Nolan can barely see, can barely process anything through the overwhelming shock radiating from every angle, and the terror rebounding between him and his attacker, getting stronger with every bounce. It’s black like oil, all-consuming as it slides across his vision and down his throat, tasting like sulfur. Everyone always said that fire-and-brimstone was anger, but to Nolan, it’s always been the scentflavourfeeling of pure, unadulterated fear. (okay, this is really what i wanted to show with this scene: exactly how dangerous nolan is and how that danger presents. people are wary of him because he can tell their emotions, but even though that’s embarrassing, the fact that he can control their emotions to the point where they forget everything else is where he gets truly scary. that’s why people don’t touch him. he’s also been trained to react on instinct to do the worst damage possible as fast as possible, and paralyzing fear is gonna get him there every time) He chokes, bends over his thighs, as the weight bears down on him. He’s going to be crushed by a stranger slash teammate on his first day. What a way to go. How embarrassing. (a moment of levity to showcase the danger, and to stay true to nolan’s character.)

He lets go out of self-preservation when his forehead bumps his knees, bracing both his hands against the ground, and there’s a burst of awe that cuts through everything like a beam of sunlight. (a clear contrast to the oil description a paragraph earlier) When he looks up, follows the feeling, TK’s eyes are wide.

“But Provy’s invulnerable,” someone says, stunned, and he wrenches himself away, sliding sideways so his attacker— Provy, apparently— can slump to the ground. Nolan’s on his back, staring at everyone who’s staring at him.

“I—” he starts and then stops, licking his lips. His brain is so fried, too much going through his body. It’s a lot of strong feelings, too many for all his defences, and it’s overwhelming. He tries again. “I.” (i don’t know if anyone notices but i do try to adjust my spelling to the spelling the narrator would use)

“Holy shit, Pat,” TK breathes. Provy groans and Nolan refocusses for a moment, touches his arm just long enough to push contentment through, enough to drive away the horror that lingers. It’s as much for Nolan as it is for Provy, clears away the rest of the black oil. “What did you do?” (trying to establish that patty’s not an asshole and

“If that’s number two,” Claude says, “then I don’t want to see what the number one can do.”

Nico can control fire, and can control it really well. It’s pretty sick to see. He deserved the number one. (someone asked me if this is because he went to the devils-- no, that’s just a coincidence lol i just needed a power that was conceivably more powerful than nolan’s) 

Provy pops his head up. He’s younger than Nolan thought, closer to his age and TK’s than Claude’s. He’s grinning, inexplicably. (the duality of provy-kind)

“That was incredible,” he says, and the happiness tastes like Nolan’s own. (worldbuilding!) Inorganic, but it’s the most he can do after putting the guy on his back. “But fuck, I never want to do that again.”

“So,” Coach says, shouldering his way through the crowd. Gingerly, Nolan sits up. “Provorov’s invulnerable to most physical attacks—”

“Haven’t been flattened in years,” Provy interrupts happily. Coach cuts a look at him and he snaps his mouth closed. (he’s still just a kiiiiid they’re all so young)

“—and the new kid comes in and does what no one else has done for years. What the fuck do you have sparking under your skin, bud?”

Nolan swallows. Abilities are weird. People are weird about them, even those who have them too, when it comes to ones like his. (patty being set apart, yet again!) It’s one thing to have some sort of physical power, one that you can turn off most of the time, and entirely another to be able to mess with people’s heads. He kept that shit under lock, as much as he could, even through the Academy. It’s normal to not reveal abilities to the teams, helps keep things secure and confidential. It’s why the rankings exist, so the teams spread out across the continent know a little how to prepare. Now that he’s placed, he should be able to talk about it. Could speak freely, if he wanted, but. But.

Anticipation tastes a lot like metal, that much different from the ozone of adrenaline. A complement. Nolan’s mouth is filled with the iron flavour of it as the whole room waits out to hear what he’s going to say. He licks his lips again, tastes it stronger.

“Empath,” he says quietly, and feels the emotions in the room change like the air before a storm. “I’m an empath.”

For a second, everything is too heightened and chaotic to make sense of, the team readjusting with the new information, and then it all settles into something understandable. The cherry-bright smell of curiosity, confusion blurring the sides of the room, fear and anxiety joining the anticipation on his tongue. There’s satisfaction too, humming gently against Nolan’s body, but he can’t figure out where it’s coming from just yet. (the satisfaction is coming from coach, claude, and tk, all for different reasons, but it also hints at emotions from different people having their own tint)

“Oh,” Provy drags out, running a hand through his hair. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“Touch-based?” Coach presses.

“To transmit emotions, yeah,” he says. “Not, uh. Not for input, though.”

“Input, like—”

“Like I can tell what you’re feeling. All the time, as long as you’re near me,” he says and closes his eyes against the shift that causes too.

“Well,” Coach says after a moment. “Looks like we have some readjusting to do.”

and that’s the end of that segment! i don’t know if i accomplished everything i wanted to, but i certainly tried. i really liked how this came out-- it was punchy without being too long and not too many info-dumps. very nice @ me. i think packing a bunch of emotion in (as was necessary, given nolan’s superpower) and taking time to explain it was really helpful for the pacing. also it let me get away without trying to figure out so much  emotion. thank you!

[penaltbox]

Something like enemies to friends to lovers with beech or mike vorlicky? Maybe it starts w u guys living in the same dorm hall and u hating how much noise he and his teammates make at ridiculous hours of the night when ur more exhausted and stressed out than u’ve ever been before & in dire need of sleep

Oh you know I’m always here for a Mike one 😬

—

You remember the first phrase Mike Vorlicky ever said to you like it happened yesterday. You’d somehow got stuck near a bunch of freshmen in the dorms despite being a sophomore and to say they were loud was an understatement.

You went over to ask them if they could quiet down, just a little, because you had an 8am class the next morning and it was an important one. Mike looked you straight in the face when he answered the door and said ‘I don’t care.’

Your jaw dropped, and before you could argue with him, another boy came up behind him and introduced himself as Owen. He apologized for Mike’s rude behavior and had the boys settle down a little. Owen was much nicer and Mike became your least favorite person on campus after that.

Various run ins happened with him afterwards and you just tried to ignore him. He usually brushed past you, all but ignoring you for the first couple weeks after his rude greeting.

You’re trying to lock some homework down one Tuesday night when you hear a loud thud on the wall next to your bed. You look at the wall, completely confused, and turn back to your laptop. You hear another thud accompanied by a low ‘fuck’ and you know it’s Mike’s voice.

You frown, not sure what the issue is, but you try to ignore it. Suddenly he’s loud, on the phone with someone you assume to be his mom, and he’s complaining. He’s sick, and he has no medicine and no idea how to take care of himself. You curse yourself before getting out of bed and going to his door.

You shake your head but knock anyways. It takes a second before he opens the door but you’re met with a miserable version of the boy you knew. He frowns but doesn’t say a word. You take a deep breath and think of how to phrase it.

“Apparently we share a wall. I heard you say you’re sick, I’m sorry for eavesdropping. I have some medicine if you need it,” you offer gently, hoping he wouldn’t make you regret trying to be nice.

His shoulders drop and he nods quickly, speaking in a scratchy voice, “I feel so miserable. Please help.”

You smile a little and nod, instructing him to go back to bed as you go grab some stuff. He deadbolts his door so you can get back in and follows your instructions. You get everything you think he’ll need and grab an extra Gatorade from your fridge.

You spend the next three days checking on him as he progressively gets better. He tops it off with apologizing for how mean he had been at the beginning of the year. You don’t think you hate Mike anymore after that.

A weird friendship grows after that, rounding out the first semester, and you keep talking to each other despite being back home for the holiday break. You snap, text, and even FaceTime once. It was weird, but you started looking forward to hearing from him.

He’s at your room as soon as you get back to campus and when you open the door, he hugs you for the first time. It catches you off guard, but the feeling in your stomach lets you know you’re in trouble.

It doesn’t get easier after that. He wants to hang out all the time. He does homework in your room and invites you to hang out with the boys. He even invites you to a party, but you politely decline that offer. He still shows up to your room that night, drunk and sweeter than he’s ever been. If he falls asleep in your bed that night, and you happen to be cuddling, well that’s just something you don’t bring up the next morning.

It’s late in February when he comes over one night, seemingly run down from homework, hockey, and his crazy schedule. You had just finished a paper, submitting it and planning what you want to do with the rest of your night when Mike interrupts you.

You sit on the edge of your bed and he walks over, hands on either side of your thighs as your feet dangle. You’re glad now that you lofted it slightly so you’re level with his face.

“What’s wrong, Mikey?” You ask, reaching a hand up and running it through his hair. It was getting long and you hated to admit how much you liked it on him.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a second before speaking quietly, “how would I have survived this year without you?”

You giggle lightly, pulling your hand back to your lap and fidgeting with your fingers, “I don’t know. You seem to be doing just fine.”

“I almost died in November. You swooped in with medicine and saved my life,” he says, acting far too serious.

“You are so dramatic, Vorlicky.”

He smiles a little and shrugs, “I think it’s pretty close to the truth. Hey, I have a question.”

You frown a little because he’s never said it that way. Usually he doesn’t hold back and if he wants to know something he goes for it. You nod, saying, “yeah, go ahead.”

“Will you come to my game tomorrow night?” He asks, almost seeming shy. It wasn’t like him at all but you couldn’t tell what was going on.

You smile a little, “of course, I usually do. Why would this week be any different?”

He reaches a hand up and scratches behind his ear, a nervous tick you’d noticed with him. You grab his hand and wait for him to look you in the eye.

“Mikey, what’s going on?” You ask more firmly.

“I want you to go as my girlfriend this time.”

It’s quiet and rushed, and you have to take a second to make sure you heard it right. Your mind starts reeling, all the little things that had happened since holiday break building in your head. When did this happen? How did you miss that you weren’t the only one with feelings here?

Mike looks horribly nervous so you quickly snap out of your thoughts and nod, telling him, “I’d really like that.”

He lets out a big breath and smiles, laughing a little, “I really thought you were gonna say no. You hesitated a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, scrunching your nose up, “I just had a million thoughts at once. But yeah, I think that sounds pretty nice.”

Mike nods and leans in, one hand sliding up to your hip, squeezing a bit as he kisses you gently. You return it, but instantly it’s not enough. You pull him closer, grabbing his shirt, and kissing him harder. He complies and keeps things going until you have to pull away and catch your breath.

“Wow,” is all you can manage at first, “does this mean I get to steal a sweatshirt to wear to the game finally?”

He smiles, mumbling before kissing you again, “yeah, I don’t care.”

This time the phrase is nicer, holds a much different tone, and yeah, maybe you definitely don’t hate Mike Vorlicky anymore.

[multsicorn]

multsicorn’s infinite fic playlist

some friends in a chat were talking about comfort fic!  so I have Made A List.  Ten of my very favorite fics to reread when I need a boost, in ten different fandoms.  In no order.  And with no particular theme, that I can tell.  They’re probably all more-or-less mostly self-contained enough to work even if you don’t know the canon?  Certainly the Hockey RPF fic is (cause I don’t know anything about the canon there!), and who doesn’t know HP, etc....

.... four are about fucked-up families, (cause I find that cathartic, and people dealing with it comforting), two are polyfic, (because more relationships interacting to me means ~more love~), three are really mostly about the ~feel~ of the universe, (the fun mundanity of a not-quite-mundane canon universe! or of a perfectly balanced space au), and then the last one is... about how to know if you’re in love on one side of it, and about how to get over it on the other (because how does one romance).

the ones about fucked-up families:

When The Lights Go Out, Will You Take Me With You? by narceus (Glee, Kurt/Blaine, m, ~11k).  I love the way that it punches out my heart and then puts it back together?  Lmao, that’s very personal.  But I love the way that - what can I say.  This isn’t a fic about romance, it’s a fic about family - well.  How sometimes your family is your boyfriend, and your mutual friends, how sometimes ‘family’ is something you have to leave, and real family is something you build.  ‘This is exactly what it’s like,’ and it’s wish-fulfillment, and, yes, somehow it’s both of those things.

You can run away with me any time you want.

Come Marching Home by ossapher (American Revolution RPF/Hamilton, Hamilton/Laurens, t, ~9k).  Fraught relationships with family members who think they love you but they really really don’t are my jam, and the way that this fic deals with a younger still-dependent sibling who’s caught in the middle between John and his horrible father is especially my jam.  Also, fics that transform a complicated set of characters/relationships/etc. from canon to a completely other setting thoughtfully, which this fic ‘verse has a lot of fun with.

John Laurens attempts to reconcile with his U.S. Senator dad after years of minimal contact. It's family, though, so nothing goes as planned.

Theft of Assets, Destruction of Property by Helenish (Harry Potter, Draco/Neville, e, ~23k).  I love the way that Draco here builds a life up out of nothing.  It’s very cozy from one angle, full of cooking and baking and making a house a home, but it also goes hard on the way that abused children will internalize their situation as the expected baseline of life, which I appreciate very much.

Surely it is a mistake to allow a single youthful indiscretion to cloud an already promising career.

A Month of Sundays by Kelfin (Hockey RPF, Erik Johnson/Gabriel Landeskog, m, ~69k).  I love the push-pull of a relationship that naturally slides very quickly into something very close and intimate, that keeps being pulled back from that by Erik’s internalized homophobia.  I love the way the story negotiates the very real knock-on effects of that on Gabe, his maybe-maybe-not partner, and the way the Erik negotiates ‘I love my family... but they don’t love me.’

Unlike some guys, who freak out when things get even a little bit gay, Erik is fine with this stuff. Erik's not even fazed when Gabe's attempts at flirting with him start to get semi-public, a fact that, by his own judgment, makes him at least five to seven times more tolerant than your average forward-thinking American.

the polyfics:

Everything That You Can Keep by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (Vorkosigan Saga, Aral/Jole, backgroundy Aral/Cordelia, e, ~30k).  I love this story’s negotiation of not just polyamory (and I love negotiation of polyamory stories - how two people in one relationship share feelings about yet another person, and figure things out? yes, please), but specifically of all the added complications that come out in the highly hierarchical, secretive, and loyalty-based Vor society.  When even asking about asking is a matter of trust, requested and given?  That goes straight to my id.

The impossible takes a little more time, a lot of negotiation.

Love: The Package Deal by jjtaylor (Bandom, Frank/Gerard/Lindsey/Jamia, m, ~30k).  I love the way that the different relationships are layered over and relate to each other - that’s one of the big things I like about polyfic - and the way that the amnesia smashes them together by bringing a past relationship to the present, while making the present one abstract and back to square one.  I love how the amnesia in fact smashes together all the highs and lows of eventful years’ worth of Gerard’s life: artistic success, problems with drugs and addiction... they’re all right there waiting for you.

Gerard gets a special kind of amnesia. Frank gets to reexamine his idea of acceptable relationship structures. Lots of people fail to communicate effectively, but they all sure remember how to kiss.

the cozy weirdness of the universe:

it's a new craze by attheborder (Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley, t, ~6k).  The development of the relationship strikes a nice balance between angst and sweetness, but what I really come back to this fic for is the fictional advice podcast!  That Aziraphale and Crowley start together, which it’s about, and the way that they sprinkle their up-close experience of history into their discussion on it - and then the way that the fandom latches onto and tries to make sense of that.  It is just, purely, A DELIGHT.

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we? CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all. AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

***

Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast.

But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

A Resolution of Territory by arboretum (Hikaru no Go, Hikaru/Akira, e, ~10k).  I just love imagining spending my life playing Go, okay!  This fic is wonderfully immersive in a weird-but-good everyday reality, of spending your whole life immersed in a game that just fascinates you, alongside your friends - and your boyfriend, too, which is to say, the one person who shares your fascination in the most direct and deepest and mutually obsessive way.  Eventually he’s your boyfriend, of course.

The point is, life is hectic, but it's good.

The Vastness of Space by shysweetthing (Yuri on Ice, Victor/Yuuri, e, ~17k).  I love the way that the space setting here gives scope for best-friends-and-partners, for cute and amusing low-stakes shenanigans and then cleverly solved higher-stakes adventure.  I love how sweet Victor and Yuuri are in caring for each other in dire circumstances, and why they both see each other as beyond their reach in the context of this imagined world.

As chief communications officer on board the Interstellar Alliance Fleet’s Star Ship Victory, Yuuri doesn’t have to think about who he actually is on his home planet. He just has to listen to his captain, do his job, and…not fall in love with his best friend, the ship’s science officer, Victor Nikiforov.

Well. Two out of three’s not bad.

Then his mother calls with the worst possible news: She, the Empress of New Nihon, has arranged Yuuri’s marriage. There’s only one thing Yuuri can do: Fake a boyfriend, and fake one fast. Who better/worse to play that role than the friend he wishes was more? What can go wrong? It’s not like Yuuri can fall more in love...

the how does romance (with my beloved controversial otp):

if you change your mind by leetlebird (Check, Please!, Jack/Parse, e, ~35k).  I love the way this story shows Jack trying to work out what love means for him, anyway, and Kent learning to deal with and work around feelings that he thinks for most of the story are unrequited.  And the cozy jury-rigged domesticity of especially the final chapters/scenes.

Beneath the table, Jack’s hand squeezes around Kent’s knee. And -- Kent forgets. For just a few seconds, he forgets that they can’t be together, that Jack doesn’t want him in that way, that he’s trying to move on.

“We’re friends, right?” Jack says.

“Yeah, Zimms,” he says. “We’re friends.”

Or: Kent and Jack are friends, then friends-with-benefits, then maybe something more. Kent isn’t sure.

[ofontaines]

『JACOB ELORDI ❙ CIS MALE』 ⟿ looks like ACE FONTAINE is here for HIS SENIOR year as a MECHANICAL ENGINEERING student. HE is 22 years old & known to be PROACTIVE, ENTERPRISING, REFRACTORY & TEMERARIOUS. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ SAM. 23. EST. SHE/HER.

aw shit here we go again hello i’m sam and i also write for elvie ( @ofcrofts​ ) and jinx ( @ofjinxs​ ). it’s been a minute since i created an all new character, but i’ve had this idea in my head for a while and i’m really excited so please message me if you would like to plot!

i. stats

ｆｕｌｌ ｎａｍｅ：grayson ciel blakesley fontaine

ｐｒｅｆｅｒｒｅｄ ｎａｍｅｓ：ace, gray for close friends

ｈｏｍｅｔｏｗｎ：hackberry, louisiana

ｄａｔｅ ｏｆ ｂｉｒｔｈ：june 1st, 1997

ｚｏｄｉａｃ：gemini

ｏｒｉｅｎｔａｔｉｏｎ：tbd

ｆｉｅｌｄ ｏｆ ｓｔｕｄｙ：mechanical engineering

ｐｏｓ． ｔｒａｉｔｓ：proactive, enterprising, clever.

ｎｅｇ． ｔｒａｉｔｓ：refractory, temerarious, brash.

ii. history

grayson ciel "ace" fontaine was born in cameron, louisiana and spent most of his childhood in the nearby community of hackberry. he was an only child raised under the care of his mother.

survival was a struggle for as far back as he can remember. what little money his mother earned from her various odd jobs often went right into supporting her drug habit, leaving ace to learn how to fend for himself from an early age.

he was a bright and curious kid, often breezing through his schoolwork when he attended ( just enough days to keep the truancy officers and social workers off of his case ). he liked to take apart small electronics and machines to study them, and he had a talent for creating new things out of recycled parts.

however, most of his time was spent polishing his survival skills: pickpocketing, scamming, straight up thievery. he was a seasoned expert long before his life would completely change, and old habits die hard.

according to the reports of the time, ace was the one who found his mother dead in their living room, overdosed on the sofa. he doesn't remember this at all. a deeply repressed memory, unsurprisingly.

he goes into the system for a few months. then, of all people his biological father shows up out of nowhere looking to take him in.

orville blakesley iv. an old money businessman from manhattan's upper east side. turns out, ace was the product of an affair that had occurred during a quick business trip to louisiana. he knew about his son, as he kept tabs on the woman he had left behind but claimed to be in love with despite never stepping in to help her or their child. his name wasn't on the birth certificate, and his mother never spoke of him, but a quick dna test compulsory in ace's case removed all doubt and granted him parental rights.

ace was twelve when everything was finalized and he was taken to live in new york city under the guise of being a long lost distant relative in dire need of a home. there was a small frenzy among the local press, and once it faded ace was alone in an unfamiliar world all by himself. his new family did little to help him. his half siblings never even gave him a chance, taking an instant disliking to him and openly expressing their disapproval of their father's decision to bring the product of his affair into their home. his stepmother, surprisingly enough, was one of the very few people he actually liked & who was actually quite nice to him from the start, buuuut that wasn’t enough for him to behave. from the age of eleven onwards, all of ace’s energy would go right to pissing off his dad.

little troublemaking antics escalated fast. by the time he was a teenager, ace was pulling off illegal shit on a much larger scale than ever before. he’d have quite an impressive record for petty crimes if it wasn’t for his dad calling in very expensive favors every time ace wound up in the back of a police car.

orville, much to everyone’s shock, always tried his very best to be understanding despite the trouble his son was constantly getting into. unfortunately this turned him into a bit of a doormat.

his father’s acceptance of his terrible behavior just pissed him off even more. ace wanted to make his dad upset. he wanted his dad to feel the hurt and anger and sadness that he felt upon realizing that his father could’ve been there for him his whole life but simply chose not to be. it didn’t really matter to him that orville was putting in the effort now and trying to make up for his past wrongdoings.

he attended a private school for children of the elite in new york city and even though he liked to pretend that he didn't care, he did well enough to graduate fourth in his class and get into columbia university without his family having to step in and donate a new library to the school.

unfortunately, his parents were very happy about this so of course ace had to go and ruin it. :/ he flunked out of columbia in his freshman year after he attended two ( 2 ) classes the entire semester. as per the pattern, his parents didn't really punish him at all and instead paid for him to attend radcliffe which he had picked out himself, hoping that the distance and freedom might calm him down a bit.

it didn't, but his new girlfriend did. he fell hard, and the two moved fast. got together their first semester of freshman year, and over summer break he proposed. they lasted until around spring break of their sophomore year.

after the break up, he threw himself into school but he also got back into his old troublemaking ways! he likes to go street racing, so he's gotten caught boosting cars around lovell a few times. he steals from stores, he gets into fights, he attends every wild party on campus and at splatterhouse and most likely causes a scene. every single time, his dad just takes out his checkbook and makes it go away.

iii. extras

grayson blakesley is the name on all of his official legal documents, but he reflexively corrects anyone who ever calls him by his father's surname. he doesn't particularly like to be called grayson either, but that doesn't happen as often anyway.

even though they're funding his education and his shenanigans, ace has basically cut off all contact with the blakesleys. he could access their fortune bc it’s not like they’ve cut him off or anything, but he absolutely refuses to go anywhere near money that he hasn’t made on his own so he lives off of what he makes from winning street races & his other assorted activities ( mostly thievery ).

he’s most likely stolen regularly from anyone who’s ever been a roommate of his or honestly just happens to live in perkins. it’s not compulsive ; he’s just a jerk.

probably spends every weekend in a holding cell at the lovell police department. what for? just close your eyes and point to any entry on a list of common misdemeanors and there's at least a 60% chance that you're right.

he’s on and off the school hockey team. a genuinely good player, but he just can’t keep up the good behavior required of him in order to keep his spot on the team.

has a little bit of a southern twang. a little bit.

he's ambidexterous!

if it wasn't obvious enough, he's a total daredevil. sometimes he does things out of rebellion, sometimes he does things out of curiosity, sometimes he does things out of sheer boredom. there's absolutely no pattern to his decisions. he has no impulse control whatsoever.

dating hasn't worked out well for him since the break up with his ex fiance. not sure if it's because he isn't over her or if it just kinda fucked him up, but either way he's since struggled with forming stable, long-lasting relationships.

iv. wanted connections

ex fiance *wc on the main

best friend

“friends” ( more like acquaintances who he neither likes nor dislikes )

actual friends, most likely fellow hooligans

disgruntled former roommates

people he’s stolen from

people he’s gotten into fights with

short term exes, fwb, one night stands

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with these, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

[mattiassamuelsson]

I'm not as versed in the whole behind the scenes stuff of hockey and the development of young players, so maybe this is a dumb question, but. Why not put UPL in goal? The Flyers have a baby goalie, why not the Sabres? Is it bc of the experience and skill set of the rest of the roster, or bc Dahlin and Jokiharju are so young too? Thanks for your insightful answers to other anons btw, they're super interesting to read!

In a word: development.

┏┓┃┃╱╲ In this┃╱╱╲╲ house╱╱╭╮╲╲ we ▔▏┗┛▕▔ DO NOT╱▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔╲  rush goalie development╱╱┏┳┓╭╮┏┳┓ ╲╲▔▏┗┻┛┃┃┗┻┛▕▔

But for real, it’s a valid question and an attractive option especially with our back up situation not looking great in Buffalo. However, the reality is it’s seen as a non-option by most reliable insiders and coaches though, largely from the developmental standpoint. Carter Hart is an incredible exception to the goalie development path — and honestly, I thought he should’ve been nominated for the Calder last season because of what he was doing in the NHL as a 20 year old but I digress. 

The goaltending situation in Buffalo while not ideal with really only one playing well, it’s nowhere near dire enough to warrant rushing development. Ullmark is playing well — we do need a better back up, but there are probably bigger fish to fry like our forward depth and we are getting saves from at least one goalie so no need to pull up someone else. If we were, and it wasn’t the result of a trade, it’d almost definitely be someone out of Rochester. Note: Hart when he was called up last season, was doing his time in the AHL — UPL is still mostly in the ECHL ( he’s technically with the Amerks right now, but it’s just a temporary development thing ).

I think as Sabres fans, we’re just historically very spoiled in the goaltending department and have a tendency to be hard on our goalies when they’re not literal gods. Botterill has shaped a pretty good defense in front, which helps the goaltending situation as well. Take just last night against Vegas : the defense was able to protect the net when Ullmark couldn’t, prevented high danger shots, and Ullmark was also able to come up with some big and important saves. Defensemen and goalies are very much linked ( defense with Ryan Miller was very much optional and no one really noticed bc Miller was just that good ). But I don’t think in this situation here it really has anything to do with the young defense that would be in front of him. 

Goalie development is just notoriously long, longer than that for defensemen and definitely much longer than forwards which take the least amount of time. There’s a reason most goalies don’t earn sustained NHL time until their mid-twenties ( there are exceptions, of course, but they are in large exceptions ). Goalies also aren’t typically taken in the first and sometimes even the second round ( again, exceptions – UPL was taken 54th in the 2016 draft ).

In addition to a vast skill-set, much of the goaltending game is mental, which requires a certain amount of maturity and age to grasp. Really only time can hone the mental side of the game, hence longer development times. There’s a lot of risk to rushing goaltenders, even more so than some other positions, and for all of Buffalo’s development woes, it’s nice to see then doing at least one position correctly. You honestly want to be sure a goalie is over prepared for the NHL than under prepared.

Many if not most great goaltender take a long road to the NHL. The Sabres showed with Ullmark that they aren’t afraid to take their time with goaltending development. He was the first in a very long time that developed through the Sabres organization, and he’s just established himself as the starter in his second season. He was drafted in 2012 163rd overall ( 6th round ). He played for several more years in Sweden, then three seasons with Rochester, before ultimately earning his time in Buffalo. He’s now 26. Henrik Lunqvist played five more years in Sweden after his draft before playing for the Rangers. Sabres’ beloved goaltender Ryan Miller was picked 138th overall, and took seven subsequent seasons to reach the NHL ( 3 in college, 4 in Rochester ) and we all know how he turned out.

UPL’s development path shouldn’t take nearly as long, given him being a higher pick. What’s important is he’s on the right track. He was absolutely lights out for Sudbury last year, practically dragging them to playoffs ( the team had a 48 point improvement from the past year ). By all accounts, his time with Cincy in the ECHL this year, after recovering from double hip surgery, has been just as impressive. He earning a little time with the Amerks right now before he’ll be returned to Cincy to continue developing and attend the ECHL asg. In my opinion he should be a tandem with Jonas Johansson in Rochester next year. After that, only time will tell how long he’s there — if it’s only a season or maybe two. I’d lean toward at least two.

Lastly, the Sabres made an incredible Beyond Blue and Gold about UPL last season which also offers a little insight into the goalie development process and UPL in general ; I definitely recommend watching. The Sabres are incredibly invested in UPL ( not to say they aren’t in every prospect, but remember, they moved up in the 2016 draft to get him ). I’m very excited to watch him over these next few years and hopefully in Buffalo eventually. He’s got a very bright future ahead of him, and so does the Sabres’ goaltending depth.

[kanerboo]

okay so... i’m just kind of needing to work out my thoughts about the blackhawks in writing for a bit, so everyone can ignore this or choose to disagree or whatever, I just need to kinda get things out of my head and get my thoughts down in some order.

1) our recent performances: the thing about this, which is something i’ve kept reiterating, is that apart from that horrid game against the flyers, we have actually NOT BEEN PLAYING AS BADLY AS OUR SCORESHEETS SUGGEST. this is the main thing that’s so baffling to me. on paper, this team is not a bad team. on ice, this team is not playing like a bad team either. and YET!!

an example below, from the carolina game yesterday, after 2 periods of play. all of our possession metrics were positive (from this tweet). and yes I know corsi is not a great stat, but it also kinda lined up with my eye test where we actually weren’t playing badly, at least for the last half of the first and throughout the whole of the second.

and yet we couldn’t buy a goal to save our life. we came close a number of times. kirby hit iron. saad came close a few times. we had a flurry of chances from the top line, and during a PP, and from nylander. and through it all mrazek, who is, let’s put it that way, not such a great goalie, was making himself look like fucking brodeur or roy with some crazy saves. when carolina was up just 1-0 through a PP goal, we literally could have pulled even or gone ahead any number of times. and the puck just was NOT GOING IN.

I DO. NOT. UNDERSTAND.

and how many times have I seen this story happen already in fewer than 10 games? it happened against the caps where we played really well and lost because we were up against a goalie standing on his head. it happened against vegas where we played our best game of the season, possibly the best game i’ve seen them play in a whole year, and still lost because of a goalie standing on his head, and to me it’s just like, how long can this go on before the players start getting demoralised that they’re doing everything right and they’re working hard and nothing is going their way? and the worst part is, that point might be happening NOW, especially based on what patrick said in his postgame last night.

2) our special teams: ok it makes absolutely zero sense to me why our special teams are so terrible this year, when we shored up our PK in the offseason and we had the league’s best PP from like what, mid-january? I know we couldn’t continue the way our PP had and eventually it’d regress towards the mean, but this isn’t even their “mean”, it’s back to the putrid days of Q. there are times it shows signs of life, like a couple of sequences against carolina, but again, when that happens, we can’t find a goal. I still don’t understand the rationale between putting nylander up on PP1 and demoting dylan to PP2 - I feel like if we had success with that particular PP1 unit last season with 19-88-17-12 then maybe we should try that? I do get maybe they’re trying to create some balance across both PP units since saad and kubalik are firing now and putting dylan there gives them some additional firepower, plus the PP1 unit had such a huge chunk of TOI during last season’s PPs and it was getting pretty unbalanced there, but come on. at this point something HAS to be done already.

as for our PK - stanbo made some really good moves in the offseason, and acquiring carpenter has been one of them. he has been great on our PK - and we know this PK can be amazing, we’ve seen them kill four minute minors and we’ve seen them score shorties - and then there are times they just completely seem to collapse. I DO NOT FUCKING UNDERSTAND.

3) brings me to my third point. the coaches. specifically, marc crawford.

i’ve always liked jeremy colliton. I was a supporter of him when he first came onboard. he proved me right by leading us to the league best PP and league best points total from january onwards? something like that, I don’t remember exactly. anyway it was clear to me that by the end of last season the players had bought in to his system, they were settling into it and learning to play it well, and he’d earned their respect. and the hope was that with a full training camp he’d be able to get the team doing a lot more.

then they brought in crawford and i’m gonna be honest I hated that appointment from the start because he didn’t have a good rep with players and teams. there was an article I read about him, I can’t remember where and I can’t find it to link now, but he apparently used to treat players really badly, had shitty player management. and I didn’t like that.

and ever since he came in our lines have been fucked, our players look demoralised (but in all fairness this could be from that pattern of playing-well-and-not-winning - although if the lines and systems are instituted by crawford then fuck yeah he IS demoralising them anyway), and our special teams have gone down the drain. and from what I’ve learned, crawford is in charge of the PP and PK, so you know. you do the math.

you could argue colliton is still the head coach and therefore he should have the final say over his lines and systems. you wouldn’t be wrong either. but I personally find it hard to believe that a guy who managed to get us those PP and points in the second half of last season, who has shown serious hockey smarts and good leadership while managing the team during that time, someone usually intelligent and thoughtful when it came to his pressers and systems, is behind ALL of this bullshit.

HOWEVER. I will add that I don’t like the way he’s conducting pressers nowadays. it makes me feel like he’s throwing the team under the bus and I don’t like that AT ALL. and like I said it really surprises me because I find it hard to believe there’s such a difference from last season and this year. and I still really don’t think it’s a coincidence this season is fucking up with crawford behind the bench.

4) they need to play 91-19-88, they should have played 1988 together since at least three games ago, stop fucking experimenting with the top lines. we have two perfect, ready-made chemistry pairs that can feed off each other easy and play with almost anyone on the other wing. put them back together especially when this got us so much success last season.

I appreciate that with the emergence of kirby as a center, possibly a second or third line centre, and that solid third line of ours, dylan has been kind of moved down the pecking order. but dylan has something no one else seems to have, and that’s chemistry with alex. I mean if I could I wouldn’t want to touch the third line either, and putting kirby on the fourth line is stupid when he’s so good and he’s not a grinder and he’s actually been holding up well even when centering patrick, but it’s just. i’m never the doom and gloom type when it comes to my team, but this, this I feel is dire. maybe because of the way we play hard and play well and can’t seem to score. but just throw 1988 and 1712 back together for a few games and see what happens. it’s also not a coincidence that once 1988 got put back together they started generating offence and SOGs - which they both weren’t in previous games.

5) just to end my word vomit: I hate all the stupid fucks who are saying to “trade toews” or “fire bowman” lbr here stanbo brought in some really good trades last season and in the offseason, and like I saw one of the beats say, one of the worst parts of this whole situation is that the people he’s brought in have actually been playing well and made a difference, but the team as a whole just can’t pull out a win. and the people saying to trade jonny? lmao yeah of course because the troubles of the whole team lie on ONE MAN’S shoulders, i.e. our captain who has been actually working his ass off? i’m tired of all the shit being thrown at jonny all the time. people expect him to score 100 points when he’s not that kind of player. he’s not patrick, never has been, never should be, they’re two completely different types of players, and people NEVER seem to get that. it’s like they think oh 88 gets 100 points so 19 should too. but 88 also doesn’t play on the PK or have to forecheck and backcheck and play a hard-wearing defensive shutdown game in addition to his offensive responsibilities. the fuck? sometimes I wonder if these people actually WATCH hockey, because they don’t seem to get this and haven’t for years.

ugh, needed to get that off my chest. sorry if you actually bothered reading the whole way through ig! i’m just sad and angry and really really want my blackhawks to do well. i’m still holding out hope - i’m not giving up on this team - but I really need them to show some results. oh, and maybe for marc crawford to get fired. 

[fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan]

A Future Together - Jamie Oleksiak

Request: Hi could you write something with either Colton Parayko or Jamie Oleksiak where the reader is having a rough day? I’ve been having a rough past few days and really just want to cuddle w/ a big hockey player. I absolutely love your writing btw

I was driving to what I guessed was my new home, wanting nothing more than to drink an entire bottle of wine and not go outside for at least a week. But instead I was driving from Pittsburgh to Dallas, having started the drive this yesterday morning. The things about trades is that most of the time there were other people besides the player who got their life uprooted. Sure hockey was a business but there were real lives affected by trades.

When Jamie got the call a week ago about being traded he came home from the rink and packed two bags worth of stuff before getting on a plane. I had to deal with everything else that was left behind; packing up our shared condo, scheduling everything to be moved or put into storage, putting the home we had lived in together up for sale, and having to say goodbye to the city I had fallen in love with.

Driving because of the sleeping German shepherd puppy, Puck, in my back seat. I didn't want to have to fly with him if possible, I didn't trust any airline with my dog. So I continued my 18 plus hour drive, hoping to get there tonight. Not that it mattered too much because Jamie and the Dallas Stars had just left on a week and a half long road trip. So it wasn’t like I would see him any time soon, and we didn’t have a place of our own yet so he had moved into a long term hotel.

I took a few breaks in my drive to stretch my legs and get some energy out of my puppy who was confused by the whole move. Even with my breaks in the road trip I made it into Dallas around 9, exhausted and in dire need of sleep. Getting a key from the front desk I got Puck settled in the room before going back to the car to grab my bags. Once everything was in the room, I started to cry from exhaustion and frustration. I was glad Jamie wasn’t around right now because it would just make him feel horrible. Getting into bed that night and cuddling up with my dog, I promised myself that tomorrow would be better. I just hoped I wasn’t lying.

***

I was almost back from my second run of the day, Puck had too much energy to stay cooped up in hotel all day long so I took him on multiple runs and trips to the dog park every day. My plan when I got inside was to shower and work on another chapter of my book. The only good thing in the move is that I can work from wherever, as long as I had my computer I could work on my second book.

My plan for work and shower were thrown for a loop when the cleaning crew was still working on the room. I didn’t want to go in and get my computer, I didn’t want them to know where I kept it. So I turned around with Puck and walked down to a coffee shop that I had been going to a lot in the past week that has an order window so people with pets could get coffee and sit outside with their dogs. I did just that, ordering an iced coffee before sitting down and looking at Instagram on my phone. “Shelly?” I didn’t think anyone was speaking to me until the person said the name again, much closer to me. “Shelly? I thought that was you.” Looking up I saw my entire family standing in front and my mother giving one of her fake smiles.

“Hi mom, dad. Hey Matt.” My brother gave me a sympathetic smile but didn’t say anything.

“What are you doing back in town?” My mother asked in her ‘I’m better than you tone’.

“Jamie got trade back here, I moved back with him.”

“Oh, so you are still with him. And I see no ring still, maybe this is God’s way of punishing you for moving in with a man before you are married. We told you this would end poorly for you and that man you say loves you. Your mother had the perfect young man ready to meet you, he would have been a perfect match for you.” My father said as he looked down is nose at me, judging me for living my life and not following their strict rules anymore.

“And I would probably have a grandchild by now but instead you choose to live in sin. But you know he hasn’t met anyone, so you could still have a chance with him.”

“I love Jamie and that will not change. Ever.”

“You have really disappointed the entire family, when I told your grandfather about your horrible choice he was heartbroken. He has always dreamed of marrying you and a good church boy, but instead you run off to go live with some athlete who does who knows what on the road. Your grandfather would pray for you to find the right way twice a day everyday, he did that everyday until he passed away.”

“I’m sorry that I am such a disappointment to the entire family, it was never my intention but I also am okay that this is my life. If you will excuse me, I need to get going.”

I stood up to leave but my father grabbed my arm. “We will pray for you every day until you realize we are right and come crawling back to us. Hopefully your mother can still find you a husband once you come to your sense.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” Pulling my arm from his hand as Puck growled at him near my feet, I headed back to the hotel fuming but also trying not to cry. As I walked through the lobby I was so close to tears but I didn’t want anyone to see my crying over my stupid family. That all went out the window as soon as the elevator doors closed. It didn’t get too bad until I was in our hotel room, then the flood gates opened.

I think that is why I didn’t realize there was someone else in the room with me until Puck started pulling on the leash. Looking up I saw Jamie standing there, looking concerned and moving towards me. I quickly undid Puck’s leash before falling into Jamie’s open arms. “What’s wrong Michelle?”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” I felt Jamie’s arms stiffen around me before he pulled away to look in my eyes. I tried looking up at him but with all of the tears his face was blurry. I reached up to run my one hand on his cheeks, he turned his head to kiss the palm of my hand. “I just don’t think I can do this.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?” I had wiped my tears away enough that I could see his face, the worry and dread clear all over his beautiful face.

“No. I’m sorry. You are my everything, I will never think about breaking up with you.”

“Then what is bothering you?”

“Everything else.” I could tell Jamie was waiting for more, but I was just mentally exhausted. “I’m gonna go shower, can we talk after?”

“Yeah, I love you.” His eyes said that he didn’t want to let me go, but he did.

“Love you too.” I stayed in the shower for close to an hour, just letting the warm water flow over my back. By the time I came out into the main area of the hotel room, Jamie was sitting on the small couch that was tucked into the corner of the room.

“I ordered some dinner for us. Can we talk?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about before. Today is probably the worst day I’ve had since we got the news about the trade. Finally seeing you again just pushed me over the edge.”

“What has been going on here? You haven’t mentioned anything when we talk.” I joined him on the couch, crossing my legs and turning to look at him.

“I miss not having a home, if I forget to put the sign out and I want to sleep in I can’t. I’ve been running a lot with Puck because he has so much energy and the dog park isn’t enough. And I’m tired of ordering out and going out to eat, the kitchen in the room is great for snacks but not much else. And the thing that pushed me over the edge was I saw my family today.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well.”

“No. They basically told me that this trade is God’s way of punishing me for living with you without being married. Or more likely they are upset because I didn’t marry the pastor’s son and start popping out children 9 months after the wedding. They told me I am a giant disappointment and I broke my grandfather’s heart. They are going to pray for me until I come to my sense and go crawling back to them. I told them to not hold their breath.” Jamie chuckled, he knew how much I hated my family after how strictly I was raised and how controlling they treated me once I had moved out on my own.

“I’m sorry that today has been so bad, and this whole experience has been so tough for you. I know that this is a lot harder for you than it is for me. I’m on the road or with the new team at practice, I immediately get a new group of brothers to fight for a playoff spot with. You get dropped into a new city, not knowing anyone. I’ll ask some of the guys if there girls can reach out, maybe meet you for coffee or a drink. That way you can meet some new people and make some new friends.

“And I’ll find a real estate agent tomorrow. Hopefully we can find a place by next week so we can get out of this hotel.” I nod into his shoulder, glad that we had some kind of plan in place. If we had a plan I knew I could make it a reality. I became wrapped up in my thoughts of how to move our plan forward when Jamie’s voice started back up. “I’ll go talk to your parents if you want.”

“No, they are going to do whatever they want. I tried for most of my life to make they proud, I’m done with that part of my life. They can think whatever they want of me, it’s not going to bother me anymore. Because I have you, and you are the best thing to happen to me. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I cuddled up with Jamie, chatting about what we were looking for in a place here. I got excited as we dreamed of a future. A future together.

Request are open!

[ariahearthockey]

Love Me, If You Will - Chapter 2

Prologue | Chapter 1

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Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Tags: 2017 NHL Playoffs, Concussion, Memory Loss, Medical Inaccuracies, Unexplained Medical Conditions, Alternate Reality, Time Travel (sort of), Pining, Fluff, Porn With Feelings, Happy Ending (sort of)

Soundtrack: Dancing On My Own - Calum Scott

_/_/_/_/

Chapter 2

Sidney sits on the high stool at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of tea while he tries to make some sense of the morning he has had. He takes subtle peeks in between sips, watching Geno comfortably playing house while he secretly admires the view of Geno's back. He never thought Geno would look good in an apron but for once in his life, he has never been happier to be proven wrong. Domestic Geno is something everyone should get to see at least once because it is something so worth seeing. Like how settled Geno is in the kitchen, moving around and whipping out the pots and pans so effortlessly, one would have to see it to believe it.

It is insane, to put it mildly, but having Geno like this in his house does something to his insides. All the longing he feels for Geno has once again being stirred up and it makes him want the things that he thought was long gone. Things that he previously thought were impossible, they don't feel so out of reach anymore.

It makes no sense whatsoever in his head, absolutely crazy to think that even a fraction of it is real but the evidence is staring at him right in the eye—or on his fourth finger, to be exact. The titanium ring glints dully when the light hit it at the right angle. It is simple, it is beautiful and it looks like something he will definitely choose for himself. It feels like it belonged right where it is, and it is so well worn, his finger has the indent from the band to show for it.

The only problem is that everything he knows now is what Geno has told him. He has no memories of them at all, and as good and as perfect as they sound, he can't recall even a smidgen of it to save his life. A small part of him still think that this is all a joke that his team is playing on him, but even as playful and obnoxious as they are sometimes, they still know where to draw the line. This is borderline too personal and it just doesn't seem like them to be so cruel.

And then the fact that he has heard so much about the repercussions of repetitive head injuries and what they will do to a person's health. He doesn't want to think that that is what happening to him but he can't discount it either. It is one thing if he mixed up the days of the week, and then an entirely another to have his memory be replaced with something totally different. Yesterday he was the back-to-back Stanley Cup champion but today he is Mr. Crosby-Malkin. It makes him wonder if there could be anything bigger than that.

"Meatball almost ready. Sid get plates and I'm drain pasta." Geno's voice snaps him out of his buzzing thoughts, and it takes Geno raising an eyebrow at him to make him process what Geno has just said. He quickly hops off the stool and pulls two sets of everything from the overhead cabinet near where Geno is standing. He is suddenly ambushed by the thoughts of doing this every day for the rest of his life, and feels the butterflies in his stomach come to life. He dismisses it with a shrug and goes to set the plates on the kitchen top and waits for Geno to do the rest.

Not that anything should surprise Sidney anymore than it already has, but Geno's cooking is making his kitchen smell incredible. The meatballs look juicy and perfectly browned and the aroma from the sauce is just divine. Geno holds up the wooden spatula in front of him and urges him to have a taste, which he obeys and so glad that he did. It tastes really good and he all but moans about it.

"Is good?" Geno asks with a stupid grin on his face.

"Oh, God. Yes. Wow, when did you learn how to cook like that, G?"

Geno chuckles as he has a taste of the remaining sauce on the spatula, only to have a little of it smeared on the corner of his mouth. Sidney tries hard not to gawk at Geno as he licks the sauce off with his tongue.

"I'm do this because Sid most picky person in the world," He pauses for effect, which Sidney humours him by giving him an unamused look before forking one of the meatball and gobbles half of it in one go. Geno chuckles again before he continues, "And then I'm think, if I'm not learn to cook, Sid not marry me. So, I'm learn."

Sidney almost choked on the meatball and quickly flushes it down with a big gulp of water. "Is that all it took? I can't be that easy."

"Oh, Sid always easy for me." Geno smirks and wiggles his brows vigorously at Sidney, and it makes him blush ten shades of red by the obvious, unspoken innuendo. It is no secret that Geno loves to go with suggestive materials for his locker room chirps, smugly parading his sexual prowess with lines like that and Sidney won't bat an eye. But it somehow makes all the difference when the lines are directed at him. Sidney is so not used to being the receiver of Geno's flirting or peacock dance or whatever. By the time he figured out how to untie his tongue, Geno has already finished most of his pasta and moving on to his second serving.

"I'm always cook pasta on game day. Some day I'm cook alfredo, some day carbonara, but meatball is best." Geno supplies as he scoops more sauce into his plate of pasta.

"Why? Because it's your favourite?"

"Yes, favourite but no. Is because I'm propose with lots of meatballs."

Sidney wonders if Geno has practised that line before because he said it with such straight face. He can't mean what Sidney thought he meant, right? But then again, his limited comprehension to English really does make things easier if Sidney would just take all he says literally.

"Oh, wait. You're actually serious. God, that must have been the most unromantic proposal I've ever heard. And to think that I actually said yes to that? Unbelievable."

"What? I'm most romantic, Sid surprise. I'm put music, I'm cook dinner and I'm arrange meatball on pasta for propose. Very much romantic."

Sidney snorts before he throws his head back, providing a good honking laugh at the details Geno has just described. Absurdly, he can actually picture the scene clearly in his head, Geno being all extra with the decorations, he probably dragged his two ugly ass AVP statues in and dressed them as servers for their proposal dinner. As much as he wants to hate it, he doesn't have the heart to because knowing Geno, that is practically his heart and soul. And maybe Sidney finds it a little cute.

"Hey, Sid not believe me? I'm show proof. After Sid say 'yes' to marry, we take selfie and send to group chat."

"The entire team has to see that? Oh my god, this is so embarrassing."

"Vero see photo and cry because Flower no cook meatball for propose."

"Now you're just making things up."

Geno laughs and shakes his head. "No, no. I'm promise, I'm never lie to Sid. All I'm say is true."

The meaning behind the statement slowly deflates the light mood that the two of them are in. Sidney's smile drops and his demeanor is showing exhaustion from the confusing unfamiliarity. Geno senses the change and lifted his hand over the kitchen top to take Sidney's. The gesture is sweet, and it anchors him and makes all of the confusion a little more bearable.

"Geno, I—" He pauses and Geno squeezes his hand, urging him to go on.

"I know this is becoming unfair to you. I'm still trying to convince myself to just go with it but I don't know, it's—it's a lot to take in. Don't get me wrong, G. You've painted a really beautiful picture and I want that, I really do. But I also want it to feel as beautiful as it sounds, you know what I mean?"

Sidney looks up to see Geno's soft eyes trained on him before he nods in agreement. Gathering from Geno's reassuring nods, Sidney braves on.

"What I don't understand is how is it possible that I don't have a single memory of them? All that I know is what I remember in my head and trust me, it's a total one eighty from what you've told me."

Geno hums in acknowledgement. "What Sid remember?"

"We're not married, for one." Sidney blurts and Geno makes a face like the idea of them not being together appalled him plenty. It makes him feel a little lighter.

"So, we aren't married, not even like dating or anything because you're married to Anna and I'm not—"

"Wait, who Anna?"

"Um, Anna Kasterova? She's a real person, right? Or did I make her up?"

The corner of Geno's mouth upturns into a slow grin. "Wow, Sid. I'm have good taste. Anna very hot wife."

"Oh, okay. Well, yeah, she is and—"

"Best Russian celebrity, win all awards but now she princess. She married prince in Jordan. If she no marry, maybe I'm have chance.”

Sidney rolls his eyes at him and Geno's loud roar of laughter fills the room. It is a wonderful thing that Geno could tame his nerves with the corniest things, regardless of how dire his situation is. He knows exactly what to say to make Sidney feel better, and what to do to help him overcome it. That is why they always gravitates towards each other when things aren't looking good. Sidney has learnt not to take anything for granted when it comes to Geno, for he is first and foremost his best friend and confidante before anything else.

But this is something much bigger than some scoreless drought or linemate incompatibility that they have to push through. This isn't waiting for the bits and pieces of his memory to come back and filling up the blanks, far from that. This is needing something powerful to jolt his memory back.

"Anyway, it's a shame, really. You and Anna have a beautiful kid together and honestly, fatherhood looked really good on you, G." He says it just to tease Geno a little bit, but the way Geno reacted to it is not too encouraging. He is stuck in motion for a moment and his face is going through a series of complicated expressions.

"Geno, what?"

"Hmm, I'm guess is good time I'm tell Sid about Sofya?"

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