#i need to know what it is about hockey players and being convinced they could do something in law

[stromer]

look at my lawyer, dawgggg… i’m going to jail :|

[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[planetpedri]

All in good time, — Franco Colapinto.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a college student meets her polar opposite in Franco Colapinto, she instantly disliked him. But, Franco was enamored with her and he would get her to like him, all in good time.

Word count: 1.65k+

Disclaimer/s: this is a hockey!au

A/N: this is for @purinfelix and jet only! though i love each and every one of you who choses to read it.. this was. this was ass girl shit i’m sorry i didn’t know where i was going toward the end… i may do another hockey player!franco fic tho but its going to be far more centered around the actual hockey

Franco Colapinto was a force to be reckoned with. Somehow, you’d gotten tangled into his life. When your dorm was being renovated and you needed a place to stay, your roommate suggested her friend’s house—that friend being Franco. A notorious hockey player for the Golden Knights.

He was, in simple terms, agitating. Your two and a half weeks staying in his basement was something close to hell on earth. He held parties, big ones! Ones that interrupted your studying, which he’d half ass apologize for the next morning while nursing a raging hangover, right before asking you to make your signature hangover recipe while he showered.

That was your payment for staying there. You nursed his hangovers and helped him come up with various excuses as to why he was late to practice, even going as far as to go out of your way to tell his coach you’d gotten terribly sick and he had to bring you to the hospital.

Two pea’s in a lying pod. That’s what you were.

In the first week, he’d convinced you to go to the rink to help him practice. You—only ever using figure skates—had a difficult time keeping up with him. You nearly broke a tailbone trying to catch up with him.

Franco held a lopsided grin when he stopped, ice shavings flying as he turned to face you. Though, you saw the concern flash across his face as he skated back in your direction, leaning down to help you up.

“I need an ice pack—“ Your lips formed a thin line, “actually, I need wine and an excuse to get out of this hell.”

The curly haired man laughed, pulling your hand over his shoulder as his free arm looped around your waist. Holding you up, he assisted you back to the bench, setting you down carefully.

Once you shifted to get comfortable, wincing in pain, you untie the laces on your skates. “How do you do this for a living? I’m fucking miserable and we’ve done this once.”

Franco shrugs, leaning his head against the tempered glass that separated the rink from the benches. “Maybe I will just have to put you to work.” His lips threaten a smirk, “if it helps, I do prefer practicing with you than my teammates.”

That wasn’t even particularly a lie. He tried to find ways to get to know you, but you were a tough nut to crack. He tried so hard to find ways to get in your good graces, and forcing you to hang out with him was the only way he could get you to spend quality time with him.

His flirting was what annoyed you the most. You couldn’t stand it, only because it made a weird feeling erupt in your stomach. “First of all, don’t let them hear that. Second of all, I will never do this again. Ever.”

Franco was a convincer. He was good at getting people to do things, and you were unfortunately, not exempt from that. Even when you were back in your dorms, he’d convinced you to join him at the rinks.

You rarely ever practiced with him, simply opting to watch from the stands. You hated to admit it, but you’d grown to enjoy the time spent with him. When he took breaks, he’d explain the rules to you, different tactics they used, various things.

When you’d get so engrossed in conversation, he’d slip in a question about you, that you’d answer without thinking. He was good at getting to know people, but you were a difficult case. He’d found a way eventually, only getting you to talk about yourself when you were so distracted you couldn’t think long enough to stop it.

“Hockey pucks are actually frozen before games to make them move faster and glide smoothly on the ice, so they don’t bounce a lot.” Franco was rambling about different facts, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip in a question he’d been waiting to ask for weeks.

“Seriously? So they don’t just stay rubbery and lukewarm?” The last part was only slightly sarcastic, but the fact had actually surprised you.

“So.. are you seeing anyone?”

“No.” You pause, wait—what? You don’t get an opportunity to ask any further questions because he was already onto the next fact. “Franco!” You snap, interjecting his next rant.

Francos eyebrows raise slightly, “yeah?”

You narrow your eyes, licking your lips. “You just asked if I was seeing someone. Then—you know what. That doesn’t matter, what does though, is that you just slipped in a question that was not like the others you’ve slipped in.” His face contorts and you laugh, “i’m going to law school, I notice tactics like that.”

The hockey players mouth quirks, he wasn’t even slightly ashamed. “Oh, I love how smart you are.” He hums, “I was just curious. If you were, thank the lord you aren’t, but, he wouldn’t like you hanging out with me.”

“Thank the lord? Seriously?” Your eyes roll dramatically. The wooden bench beneath you feels stiff and uncomfortable the more he watched you with his stupidly smug face.

Franco nods, “hey—“ He begins untying his laces, “you should come to my game tomorrow. You haven’t come in a while.”

The topic switch was noticeable, but you ignore it. “I have a lecture late tomorrow. I’ll probably be tired.” But when Franco’s face changes into that familiar doe-eyed expression, you cave. “Fine! I’ll come! Quit looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are”

“No i’m not.”

“Are too!”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

“Are—what?” Your brain stops working, words failing your tongue. Excuse you? “Wait a fucking minute—“

Franco watches you carefully. “Is that a no?”

“No! I mean—“ You were still a stumbling mess. Your mouth opening and clamping shut. “It’s a-well, I mean, It’s a yes! Yes, I will! Jesus, Franco. You couldn’t have asked any smoother?”

He’s smiling, finding your stammering all too amusing… and adorable. It was very cute. “It felt fitting to me.” He shrugs casually, slipping off his skates. “After the game and a shower, the diner you like a few blocks from your dorm?”

That was most definitely something he learned during his not-so-secret questionnaires.

“That sounds perfect.” You huff, “now, can you bring me home? I think i’m developing hypothermia.”

After changing into his regular shoes, he stands, offering you his hand. You take it, though it was with an eye roll. Franco smirks at your reaction, not commenting on it as he helps you to your feet.

“Does your body not ache every time you finish?” You ask as the two of you exit the arena, making your way through the dark parking lot.

You regretted your choice of words the second they left your lips. “Don’t even—“

“I have incredible stamina, actually.” Franco cheeses, slinging his arm around you. You allow it, even leaning into his side.

“You are insufferable.” You scoff, but the twitch of your lips betrayed your feigned annoyance.

The laugh that emits from Francos mouth has a smile growing on your lips, it was a sound you’d grown to enjoy.

Franco opens the passenger door for you, which had you suppressing a smile. It was a gesture he made every trip to the arena, in fact—Franco was very much a gentleman, despite boy boyish he could be.

Only when he was the drivers seat with the engine going and heater ablaze, does Franco finally grow serious. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, I know you’re sort of a people pleaser.”

Okay, ouch?

Franco’s eyes widen, “I didn’t mean it like that!” He says quickly, stumbling for a way to fix what he said.

You’d never seen Franco have to search for words to say. He was always so smooth and, well, he was never one to falter.

“I know what you meant, and you’re right. But, when have I ever gone out of my way to people please you.” You reassure him, a gentle look on your face. “I want this.”

The rest was history. You want Franco had been going steady for months. Whenever you had enough time in your busy college schedule, you went to his games, you were his number one cheerleader and support system.

Hockey had easily become your favorite sport, you knew everything about it due to Franco’s inability to ever stop talking. Thats probably what made the two of you such a perfect pair. You were quiet, he wasn’t. He was your polar opposite, the yin to your yang. And thats what made it work.

When you didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t there to fill the silence. When he didn’t want to talk, you enjoyed each other’s silence.

You had never thought in a million years, the man who annoyed you oh so much, was the same man you would grow to love.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future franco posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @purinfelix @sakashq @hrts4havertz @spidybaby

[mialikeshockey]

Glare - Jack Hughes

The only thing I ever looked forward to in my English class was this boy. I assumed he didn’t even know I existed. He was a hockey player, big friend group, and very attractive. Pretty much every single girl in our school wanted him, kinda including me.

I never thought I’d have a chance, someone like me with someone like him. Me being the girl who, never spoke so much in a class she wasn’t comfortable in. The girl who only had a couple close friends and wasn’t very attractive in my own eyes. How could he ever notice someone like me, that was my thoughts, all the way up to, today.

I sit down at my desk, sitting next to one of his friends, Trevor Zegras. Trevor was sometimes a class clown, he would try to make everyone laugh but sometimes miserably failed. My friend who sat behind us, would always tease me because I seemed to sometimes get annoyed when Trevor would try to say jokes, she was convinced I liked him. Little did she know, I liked someone else.

Our teacher walks into the room as the bell rang. “Turn to page 24, anyone want to read the first paragraph?” She says, sitting down on this small desk next to her desk. I looked around and seen nobody’s hands up. I sometimes felt bad for the teachers when nobody would volunteer, but i understand why a lot of students don’t. I wasn’t the one to always volunteer either, unless it was with a teacher I was close with.

“Okay then, Hughes, you read the first paragraph.” Our teacher says, looking at Jack. He shakes his head and begins to read the first chapter. Trevor lets out a little giggle when Jack starts to read. Jacks voice being very soft and not to full of life, while he continues to read. His voice is low and it’s sometimes hard to understand him as he finishes up the paragraph.

I try to hold back my smile, even though it’s dumb, you could tell he was somewhat embarrassed to be reading out loud and also hearing what Trevor was trying to make jokes of.

Sometimes I don’t even realize it but I stare at Jack a lot. Sometimes I can’t even help it. I want to talk to him, but I don’t know where to start. I don’t know to much about hockey, probably not even enough to start a conversation with him. Why would he wanna talk to me anyways. It’s all I could think about walking out of class. My friends run up to me as we walk to lunch.

“She so likes Trevor.” My friend Emma goes along to say. “I really don’t, he’s annoying and has been getting on my nerves every single class period. I don’t understand why he feels the need to make a joke every single time someone finished reading.” I state, my friends giggle. I look back to see why and I see Jack and his friends walking behind us.

I see Jack looking at me and I can’t help but rush down the stairs to the lunch room. “Why are you walking to fast, calm down. I didn’t know lunch was this important!” My friend Logan yells, as she tries to keep up with me.

We all get to lunch and sit down at the spot we’ve been sitting at since freshman year. Jack and his friends sitting at the table across from us. I can’t help but look over to see what he’s doing. He’s eating a bag of chips and has a Gatorade in front of him, his phone being in his hands.

“I don’t like Trevor…I like Jack.” I quietly admit to my friends sitting at the table. “You like Jack?” Logan basically yells. “Will you be quiet!” I hit Logan’s side softly. Everyone at the table starts to giggle. During lunch all my friends and I talked about is our school crushes. Me openly being able to talk about Jack now and them talking about other ntdp boys.

Me and my friends part ways to go to our other class, I grab my phone and water bottle and head to my biology class. I hear someone yell out my name. I turn around and see Jack running up to me. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He says, looking over at me. I go quiet for a second, “I didn’t think you’d want me to talk to you.” I finally say.

“Why not? What’s Trevor saying to you?” He questions, giggling a bit. “Nothing…I just didn’t think you’d wanna talk to someone like me.” I quietly say. “I’d love to get to know you more, I mean, I see you looking at me in class and in the halls. Id like to know the girl who’s had her eyes on me for a bit.” He smiles. All I could do is feel embarrassed.

“I..I’m sorry.” I stutter, feeling embarrassed. He lets out a laugh, “it’s okay, I do have to admit, I sometimes find myself glaring at you.” He smiles, walking into his class. I continue to walk down to my class. I smile and walk into class, until it hits me.

Did I just have a conversation with Jack Hughes?

-

I will most likely make a part two to this and maybe more because I feel like I could do so much with this idk we will see, I hope you enjoyed!

[paladin--strait]

Here Is the request as asked!

It was that Matt Rempe and the reader were in a long distance relationship, she flies over which he knows about. But she goes to watch one of his games, afterwards she walks into the locker room with a baggy jersey on and a mini skirt (obviously it has Remps name and number on the back).

How would he react? 🤣

i hope this is okay! let me know if you want me to rewrite it! ❤️

-

matt and i's relationship grew after we met when the rangers came to play the new jersey devils. he saw me wearing a jonas siegenthaler jersey, sitting on the nearest row to the ice.

when matt knocked jonas out with a high elbow, skated over to me, he smiled and laughed, pointing at me from the other side of the glass. my eyes widened in confusion and a bit of fear at his actions.

when a staff member came up to me after the game and handed me a pass to meet the rangers players after the game, i looked at the her with confusion. "i'm not here for the rangers, sorry." i don't accept the pass and hand it back to her.

"miss, one of the rangers players wants to meet you. please, follow me." she hands me the pass again, insisting i come with her. i sigh and follow her, down a hallway and past a bunch of reporters, waiting to get in to meet the players for post game interviews.

when the staff brought me into the locker room for the rangers, she pointed at matt rempe and told me that he was the one who requested to see me. i look at him and make eye contact, his black eye staring back at me as i walk towards him.

"so, did you like that elbow i got on siegenthaler earlier?" he smirks out at me. "saw you in his jersey, and i knew i needed you to be a rangers fan. and to make it even better, wearing my jersey."

i scoff. "hurting my favorite hockey player isn't going to win me over, ya know." i smart mouth back at him, rolling my eyes.

matt then made a comment about me being feisty, and that he needed to find another way to win me over. he offers to take me out that night in an attempt to win me over, and it took some convincing, but he finally managed to take me out for dinner and drinks.

he eventually brought me over to become a rangers fan, or what i called the dark side for a long time. matt and i became friends and eventually more, but the distance between us became a problem very quickly. matt and i are both clingy. when we finally get to see each other, we can't keep our hands off of the other.

we facetime every morning and every night, even if one is too tired to stay awake. we fall asleep on the phone if we have to. so when i had enough of the late night and early morning calls, i booked a plane ticket to new york.

after the flight, when i land in new york, i walk out of the small, cramped hallway and walk to baggage claim. matt told me he would be waiting there, but i didn't know that he would bring some of the guys with him to meet me. i smile and we run at each other, giving each other the biggest hug.

after a while of hugging each other so tightly we could barely breathe, we let go and give each other a kiss. i hear my name being called and look behind matt to see igor and artemi. i smile and hug them too. we smile and talk a bit before matt grabs my bags for me and we leave.

-

the next day, matt has a game at MSG. i tell him i'll be there and i'll see him at the arena after the game. but while he's gone all day to rest at the gym in the arena, using the hot tubs and the physical therapy to help him warm up for the game like he always does, i'm sleeping in his comfortable bed that smells like him.

after i wake up, i spend my time at home before the game getting ready. taking a shower and after that doing my makeup and hair. before i get dressed, i have two hours left before the game starts, so i don't get changed just yet. i use the extra time to put my things away for while i stay in new york.

when it's time to get ready, i throw on my rempe jersey and a short skirt, it reaches above my knees. matt told me once on the phone that he loved this skirt. he saw it on my instagram post from a girls night out about a year ago. it's blue, with two white stripes at the bottom and it matches the jersey perfectly.

i take an uber to the game, arriving just in time for the players family members, partners, and friends, all with passes, to go in. i flash my pass to the security, and he lets me in. i walk up to the VIP booth and say hello to some of the WAGS that i haven't seen in a while. i text matt, letting him know i'm here and i'm in a vip booth.

he texts me to wave at him when he come out on the ice during warmups and that he loves me. when i see him skate out a few minutes later, i raise my hand, waving at him and he waves back at me. i smile and giggle, watching him skate in circles like a ballerina during warmups.

-

after the game, i show my pass to the security once more and they let me into the locker room. i walk over to matt, who's tying his sneakers. "hey there. good job out there." i smile and giggle when he jumps like i scared him.

"hey...holy fuck, thank you." he says, standing and hugging me. "i don't think i've ever played that much. my body hurts so fucking bad..." he kinda leans his weight on me with his arms wrapped around my waist.

i smile and pat his wet hair from the shower he just took, kissing his cheek. "it was well deserved playing time, babe. you played so good." i pull away, kissing his forehead and smiling at him.

i see his eyes rake over my body, eyes wide when he sees my skirt. "that's the one i love so much..." he makes eye contact with me, grinning happily. "god...it looks so fucking good on you...even better in person..." he smirks slightly, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me closer to his body.

"careful big boy..." i whisper, laughing. "we're not alone in here." he nods and rolls his eyes at my words, but still smiling at me. i smile and kiss his lips, leaning close to her ear, "you can take it off of me later, if you want."

i pull away from his ear and look at his now wide eyes. he suddenly pulls away, beginning to pack his things as quickly as possible. i laugh, "matt, honey, what are you doing?"

"i'm packing my things so we can leave." his voice is serious, but my laughs make him break, bursting into laughter too. his teammates look at us weirdly when our loud laughter fills the room. "gotta get that cute little skirt off of you as soon as possible." he smiles at me, grabbing his bags and taking my hand, leading me out of the locker room after saying his goodbyes to his teammates.

matt is never the first player to leave the locker room and arena after a game, especially after a win. but that night, matt had a reason to leave, and it was you. matt scored twice that night, once on the ice, and once with you.

[sc0tters]

Addicted | Luke Hughes

summary: when Alex and Trevor decide to voice their feelings about you it causing Luke to reevaluate his own.

song: Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran

request: yes/no

warnings: mention of underaged drinking, slight bit of swearing.

word count: 2.03k

authors note: this song has been calling my name since I put it on the playlist, and let me just saw that I’m not upset in the slightest. This picture of Luke made me laugh so much that I had to put it in. If you want to check out the rest of the celly you can do so here!

Luke had been in love with you for years.

Thoughts of you consumed his mind from the moment he woke up until the moment he went to sleep. His heart rate would increase and his palms would grow sweaty as he watched you run across campus before you’d tackle him into a bear hug even though you saw him the day before. Every time you were in a more revealing outfit he’d stumble on his words like he had never spoken English before. Every year it was like half of his brain cells never made it to the lake house as all he could do was watch in awe as you’d walk around in shorts and your bikini tops.

But it was fine because you felt the same way as Luke.

The first time you realised this was after a ballet recital of yours when you were six and somehow Ellen convinced all three of her sons to come and Luke said that your tutu was pretty on you.

It like your whole world combusted in that moment as your semi toothless grin joined the conversation “you think so pookie?”

“I know so sparky.” Luke was never one to shy away from complimenting you and it made you swear he only did it to screw with you. The way your cheeks turned crimson red as you’d chew as the inside of your cheeks trying to hold in the inevitable squeal of joy at the compliment.

All of the scales seemed to increase when you went off to college, your friendship grew stronger as you remained his number one supporter, your love for him grew deeper as his eyes never left you at parties because other girls were never what he wanted. Clearly since everyone else could see this you would should have as well, right?

Wrong.

Totally absolutely positively wrong.

His love for you could have been written in big pieces of card in front of your face and it might as well have been like you were reading another language because you wouldn’t have believed it. The same thing went for Luke, every guy you turned down never made him feel more confident. In fact it usually made him feel worse.

You had the most athletic players flirting with you, the start football and baseball players all weren’t good enough for you. So what was to say that some hockey player would be what you wanted?

Luke was usually a confident man, he got that from being around Jack that it became a learnt trait. Yet you seemed to make him feel like a normal kid again. There was no need for the title of being drafted, or for his family name. To you he was just Luke or your pookie and it slowly ate up at him.

Just like every other year July meant it was lake house time. It was the third day of the trip and it was hotter than ever, literally the sun was scorching and you were out soaking it all up. Your bikini was the smallest one in your closet and it avoid the tan lines your top string was undone as your stomach lay on your towel.

Luke had been enjoying the sight he really was, your feet occasionally bounced as you had your favourite songs blaring through your AirPods and it was a sight that made his mouth water.

But when Trevor and Alex walked back in from the porch and started talking about you it caused the youngest Hughes boys mood to turn for the worse.

Trevor shook his head as he grabbed a drink from the fridge “I don’t know how you haven’t made a move yet Hughesy,” he confessed as he cracked the cap of the bottle open.

Alex nodded in agreement “huh?” Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he knew that they were talking about you.

The Ducks player smiled “y/n is out of this world,” he pointed out as none of the older boys were stupid, you were a pretty girl and they all knew it.

Except Trevor was the only one who ever let you know about it, the constant flirting that came from his lips during this lake house trip. It seemed you being over the age of eighteen let you move away from the title of only being Luke’s friend.

Words of warning wanting to tell Trevor to fuck off were desperate to leave Luke’s mouth yet they couldn’t as you walked into the living room.

An oblivious smile formed on your face “what are y’all talking about?” You asked as you reached into the fridge to grab the container of cut up mango that you had made earlier that morning.

Trevor let his outstretched hand reach into the container as he took a piece “just about going for a ride on the boat later,” he lied as his eyes never left your mouth as some of the fruit juice dribbled down your chin landing on your bikini top “hope there is room for me on that boat,” there always was room for you but you were enjoying flirting with Trevor.

Sure you weren’t attracted to him like that but he certainly wasn’t harsh on your eyes “for you sparky? Always.” The nickname was one that you had picked up when you were five, you learnt what electric currents were when you found two wires in Quinn’s room and decided to place them together. The eldest Hughes couldn’t help but laugh when he walked in to see how your eyes lit up like you were in a candy store.

Luke scrunched his nose at the smile you sent the ducks player as you continued you eat your mango but when you pushed your hair behind your ears letting your chest now be on full display the Hughes boy could no longer take it “put this on,” he mumbled as he held out his baseball jersey.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked white fabric “okay?” You shrugged as you took the Tigers home jersey and slotted your arms into it.

But that didn’t seem to be enough for Luke as he came over to you and began to button the buttons up “Luke!” You groaned saying exactly what Alex and Trevor were thinking as they sent the boy a glare “perfect,” Luke smiled as he softly pulled your hair out of the jersey letting it lay flat behind your back.

His dagger eyes were sent to both Alex and Trevor the entire day, even on the boat when Quinn was teaching you to drive it and even when you were on Luke’s lap.

“Am I missing something?”

Your question pulled Luke out of his thoughts as he looked at you “what?” He asked as he let his fingers draw over your leg.

It irritated you as you could see that something seemed to be going on between Luke and the two older boys “you seem mad at them,” you sighed as your lips formed into a pout.

Sure it might have been childish to be upset but Luke usually told you everything “it’s nothing,” he shook his head causing your fingers to grip at your can of seltzer.

Yet your pokes didn’t go quiet like he’d hoped “Luke-” your soft words were only met with a glare “just drop it okay?” His complaint was only met with your wide eyes.

Thankfully at that time you were in need of a new drink. So you got up to get yourself a refill.

The boys watched in amusement as you walked back into the house “you really fucked that one up Lukey,” Trevor teased only adding to the boys anger.

Luke clenched his fist “you need to shut the fuck up dude!” He warned as he got up as he pointed his finger at the older boy.

It seemed like this was all bubbling up over today “just go ahead all to her,” Quinn’s voice was soft as he knew that you were on his brothers mind.

The youngest Hughes boy took a large gulp as he remembered that he had lashed out at you first.

Your head remained in the fridge as you looked at the different options for drinks.

The cool air on your face made you grow calm. It was soothing as you tried to not cry, you knew you were overreacting but all of Luke’s actions today seemed to weigh up on you in this never ending battle that you had created based on the feelings you felt towards the boy. Your thoughts were pulled away from your brain as the sound of the glass sliding door shut.

You turned around and was already faced with Luke “Jesus Christ!” You cursed as you clenched your chest.

Luke’s face softened as he looked at you “sorry,” he apologised as he crossed his arms.

He wanted to reach out to hug you “why are you so mad at them?” You asked as you watched the hockey player pick at the bracelet on his wrist.

All of the explanations that went through his mind all didn’t sound valid “it’s stupid,” that was the honest truth, he knew he was over reacting but that didn’t make it any less irritating to deal with.

You scoffed as you sat on the counter “that never stopped you from telling me,” you pointed out as most nights were spent with Luke in your bed laying his bed on your chest as you combed your fingers through his hair.

The way your lips were plump and your cheeks were tinted with a hint of red from the sun that had landed on in them made you look so very kissable.

But Luke remained stood where he was “they think you’re hot,” he explained with his voice barely a whisper as though he was ashamed to admit to it.

Your laugh made him feel better “do they now?” It was a clear stroke to your ego as you watched the boy grow embarrassed.

It shouldn’t have been nearly as amusing as it was “you thinking I’ve got a new best friend to get?” You joked causing him to furrow his eyebrows with annoyance.

Luke situated himself between your legs “‘ts not funny,” he mumbled as he rested his head on your shoulder.

A smile found its way onto your face “it’s pretty funny,” you nodded as you hooked your fingers under his jaw forcing him to look at you.

Your eyes were soft as they studied every feature on his face as though it was the first time you’d seen his face “it doesn’t matter if they think I’m hot,” you explained as you watched his face grow confused “only matter if it comes from a guy who hasn’t even said it.” You added as your tongue darted between your lips.

The hockey remained as clueless as ever when you let your thumb run along his jaw “who?” He was almost asking because he needed to finally hear that dose of reality of who it was that went through you mind in the way you went through his.

A moment of silence was heard so loud that a penny dropping wouldn’t even be noticed “looking right at him.” You confessed causing his eyes to widen.

It was like he was at a crossroads as the ball was now in his court. Truly nothing went through his mind as he was desperate to find the right course of action. The girl he had loved for all of these years, the girl he had longed for to be more than just friends, the girl was you and here you were with all of your cards out waiting for him.

Yet there he was frozen in time.

Again it seemed like it was your turn once more. So you leaned forward as you kissed him, it was brain meltingly perfect. Like that moment you do something that feels so good it makes your brain all hazy, like that.

Luke pulled away with his smile as his finger ran over your lips “what’s got you all smiley?” You asked as you cocked your head.

“I got the girl of my dreams.”

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/766163417530875904/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs765958548506198016

em darling you can’t leave it like that!!!! i need to know what happened next!!

like does she eventually call him or he does he just show up because he so worried and can’t stand being so far not knowing what wrongs with his girl.

i lowkey feel like he can’t even be mad after he hears her reasoning and hates that samy is still learning to trust him because he screwed up if anything it makes him want to keep working on gaining her trust fully back

please and thank you :)

part 6 i think??? this is my new favorite side plot going on 😌 also yes small cliff hanger it’s my favorite thing to do. also if u didn’t know samy’s middle name is poppy and i think it’s cute to make luke call her pop sometimes :)

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7

will woke up the next morning with the immediate thought to check his phone. he scanned though all of his notifications, hoping and hoping there was at least one from samy or luke, but when the blonde saw nothing his heart sank.

she hates him. she forgot about him. she doesn’t care.

he started spiraling, a cloud of anxiety forming over his head, but will tried knocking some sense into himself. there was a chance she was just busy getting tests and results back. she might be with her parents, or on her way home? she was caught up in all of it, she just hadn’t called yet.

that was understandable. yeah. she wasn’t ignoring him because why would she? he was her best friend. her boyfriend. they literally grew up together and told one another everything.

will tried shaking himself from the dark thoughts as he pushed himself out of bed and made his best attempt to get ready for practice and the rest of the day. maybe she’d call when he was at practice!

he just needed to think positive.

will did what he could to distract his mind as he went through his usual morning routine. he brushed his teeth listening to some music, washed his face, sort of did his hair, and then went downstairs to figure out what was for breakfast.

patrick and christina were already downstairs along with the younger boys running around getting ready for school. the two glanced over at the blonde, trying to read his expression.

“hi will, how are you?” christinia wondered.

“i’m fine. doing fine,” will nodded, but he didn’t really sound convincing. patrick and his wife exchanged a glance.

“any updates?” patrick dared to ask.

“um, no. not yet,” will shook his head, his lips forming into a tight-lipped smile.

“i’m sure she’s just talking with the doctors and getting discharged and settling back into home,” christina assured, rubbing the younger boy’s shoulder like he was her own son.

“yeah, i know. that’s what i’m thinking,” will nodded, moving further into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat before he needed to pick up macklin. he needed to busy his mind or else it would be the only thing will would think about all day.

the marleau’s watched in slight worry, but they knew not to push too far. they knew will could handle himself and samy would call soon. the hockey player rushed out of the house in a quick goodbye, climbing into his car and driving off without a second thought. the ride was silent besides the soft hum of the radio playing and when he pulled up to his friend’s place he braved a smile.

“morning,” macklin mumbled, tired and dreary-eyed like he just woke up ten minutes ago. will nodded, pulling back onto the road towards the rink.

the silence wasn’t unusual for them. usually, it was pretty silent on their rides in because of how early it was and how little sleep they got the night before. macklin didn’t say a lot and neither did will which he was glad for because the blonde wasn’t sure if he’d be able to take the million questions macklin sometimes had for him.

“hey, did you hear anything more from samy? is she doing okay?” shit. there it was. the brunette’s curious gaze slid to will’s.

“uh, she had to get surgery on her shoulder. a tendon tear or something,” will swallowed thickly.

“oh, shit. that fucking sucks. is she doing alright? i’m sure that’s gotta put her out for awhile. i texted with her for a bit last night just to see how she was but she never told me that. wow,” macklin didn’t notice the way will’s grip on the steering wheel whitened his knuckles nor the way his jaw clenched.

how many more people were gonna tell him they talked to his girlfriend before he even did?

“you were texting her?” will couldn’t help the anger in his voice.

“yeah, just wanted to check in after seeing that hit. it was brief, but she said she was doing alright and i said i was sorry that happened and i hope she bounced back soon. she hearted the message,” macklin explained their entire exchange and even though it wasn’t even a lot, it made something stir in the blonde.

“so she can text my fucking teammate and not call me?” will huffed under his breath which macklin did catch this time.

“what?”

“she hasn’t said a word to me.”

“wait, what do you mean she hasn’t said a word to you? you just said she had to get surgery,” the younger brunette became confused.

“because i learned all of that from her brother. samy hasn’t called or texted me since it happened,” the anger didn’t disappear from will’s voice.

“seriously? you’re her boyfriend. why wouldn’t she call you?”

“i don’t know, you tell me man. i don’t really know what i did wrong or why she won’t talk to me. i’ve been trying to reach her since last night,” will finally cooled off a bit, but his grip on the steering wheel didn’t.

“well, shit. i’m sorry, i didn’t know that. maybe she’ll call while you’re at practice or something. i’m sure she means to there’s just a lot on her mind.”

“yeah, sure,” will wanted to believe that but he couldn’t after hearing how she’s spoken to everyone but him.

meanwhile, in boston, luke was sitting in samy’s room with her after their parents asked him to bring something up for her from the cafeteria. the siblings were sitting in silence, luke texting on his phone and samy just staring the wall. her mind was clouded with calling will—something she still hadn’t done yet.

finally, the older hughes brother caught onto his sister’s quietness. he lifted his gaze and noticed the way she stared off into space and waved his hand in front of her.

“hey, earth to samy?” the girl snapped out of her daze.

“huh?”

“you okay? you look..worse than i would expect you to look after breaking your shoulder,” luke raised his eyebrow at his wording making her roll her eyes.

“i’m fine,” samy mumbled.

“why do you lie every time you’re keeping something from me? you know i can tell every single time, right?” luke rolled his eyes this time.

“just got a lot on my mind, luke,” his sister grumbled.

“seriously, what’s up? if it’s about mom and dad you know i won’t tell. not anymore at least,” the curly-haired boy chuckled to himself thinking he was way too amusing while samy didn’t find any of it funny.

“it’s not about them. it’s nothing, i promise,” she tried getting him off her back.

the girl’s phone buzzed in her lap where her lock screen lit up. the two saw the picture of her and will as her background and then it quickly clicked in luke’s head.

“have you talked to him?”

samy’s silence was his answer.

“c’mon, pop. you know you can talk to me. i’m not gonna judge you or whatever,” luke’s tone fell softer, pulling out the nickname he only called her since they were kids.

“i want to call him, but i just can’t. i..i can’t do it.”

“why not? did something happen between you two again?”

“no, but that’s the problem. i’m worried something will happen—like i’ll burden him or some shit. or like..i’ll run him out again by relying on him for everything when i shouldn’t or don’t need to. i just..i didn’t wanna burden him with this knowing i’m fine and he has hockey to worry about,” the tears fell faster than samy could stop then or even process that she was really crying now—harder than when she talked with ryan and gabe yesterday.

luke’s face fell. he hated seeing his baby sister so upset, so he reached his arms out to gently wrap around her frame for a hug. he didn’t say anything, just letting her cry it out and feel all the emotions.

they stayed like that for another good minute before samy finally pulled away. she embarrassingly wiped her eyes from her tears while luke just rubbed her knee.

“i’m sorry. this is so stupid,” the brunette laughed dryly—her poor attempt at humor.

“hey, don’t apologize. this isn’t stupid. you’re allowed to cry,” luke reassured her.

“i just don’t know why i can’t just call him. maybe it’s the pity i hate? or that i know he’d offer to fly out and drop anything but i don’t want him to do that just for me,” samy rambled some more while her brother just listened and nodded.

“can i be honest with you, pop?” the older boy wondered and samy nodded.

“i think you’re scared to let people care deeply for you and about you. you know how much will cares about you and i think that scares you. especially since he also hurt you,” luke kept an even tone, but his expression was soft. “if i know anything about will it’s that i know how much he loves you. he’d do anything for you and yes, i know it’s scary knowing how much someone cares about you to do that. however, you’re not a burden. you’re not gonna run him out. you’re not gonna annoy him. he loves you and he genuinely cares about you, i promise.”

luke’s words made samy cry harder. she buried her face in her hand, the tears pouring from her eyes all while the older hughes did his best to comfort her.

“what if he breaks up with me again because i didn’t call him right away?” now there was a whole new wave of anxieties to worry about.

“he is not going to do that. if he does, i’ll fly to san jose myself and punch him, but he won’t. i’m sure he’s waiting to hear from you and has been since yesterday afternoon,” luke nudged her good arm and nodded towards her phone. “it’s okay to let people in, pop. it means they care about you. i know it’s scary to trust again, but even i admit to how much that boy loves you and would do anything to gain your trust back.”

samy sucked in a deep breath as she found will’s contact again. she looked at luke who nodded before finally hitting call.

will’s phone vibrated by his leg. he was geared up for practice when he saw samy’s contact light up on his lock screen. the blonde’s heart quickly beat as he scrambled to answer it, stepping further away from the boys still getting ready.

“hello?” he breathed.

“will?” a wave of relief washed through him when he heard samy’s familiar voice on the other end.

[puckpocketed]

get ready for avs essays, babeyyyyyyy!!! 

so i’m actually completely fine with it if you don’t find nate compelling but since you bring him up, i will start with him. 

the thing about fortnite gamergirl nathan mackinnon is that he is like. very talented and reasonably conventionally attractive and also soooooooo cringefail. he’s the league mvp and a stanley cup champion and he has a gorgeous fiancée and he’s rich and he’s smashing through joe sakic’s franchise records left and right.... and he’s succchhhhhh a loser (affectionate). he’s uncomfortable all the time. he doesn’t know how to act. he’s pretty private but also he’ll just Say Things that are way too personal with the exact same tone he’d use to. i dunno. tell you what brand of sneakers he wears. he’ll also reveal things about the most private man in sports, squidney crocsby, that are way too personal—and sid apparently is fine with this because he continues to be boybestfriends and next door neighbors with the guy.

everyone thinks he is soooooo serious alllll the time (in spite of the fact that he is goofy and silly when he’s out with the boys) but it’s just a combination of a) his face just looks like that b) he’s just intense in general. he’s equally unchill about how much he fucking loves the boys and how much he loves his tiny dog. and c) mostly we see him when he is at his fucking job? and when he’s at work it’s All Business. don’t make him do dumb social media shit or ask him stupid questions about whether or not he thinks preseason is too long, he’s! busy! come back when it’s puppy day. 

he’s so focused on being working harder and being better and improving everything about his game and yet!!! he cannot win a faceoff 💖 he trains with squidney all summer! every year!! you would think he could learn something from the guy. but no, he doesn’t even seem to try to win faceoffs sometimes. he’s also. not ? defensively responsible? i do not exactly expect him to play like kopitar, here. i don’t even think he should waste all his energy backchecking; like, that’s not the thing we need him for. but idk from a guy who is sooooo fucking smart about hockey, a little more situational awareness would be nice. just a thought! like, if he wanted to be better at things, maybe he could get better at the things he’s terrible at? (but whatever, this gives me more of an excuse to push my ondřej pavel -> big boys’ club agenda). like. nate is an elite 1C—except that he doesn’t forecheck and doesn’t defend and one of his wingers (jonathan drouin) is actually the playmaker and the other winger (mikko rantanen) has to take all his faceoffs for him 🥰 

his one and only love language is trying to convince the boys to come play with him (jo, jack eichel, mitch marner, jo again). he doesn’t like late games, because he doesn’t nap. and he doesn’t nap because he can’t sleep during the day. and he can’t sleep during the day because he drinks too much water, so he has to piss too much. babygirl, why would you volunteer this information 💕 he tells people to call him “the dogg” and then they do. he says awkward sentences that rewire my brain. he should be cool, but he isn’t!!!!! he extremely fucking isn’t.

this is my natemac thesis, you can take it or leave it (said with love!!!!! there are other players i am significantly more invested in getting people on board with). i think many other people can speak more eloquently than i can about everything impressive he does on the ice. but he’s one of my special little guys bc of everything else

i have no idea what to do with all this <3 I'm here because he just bonked my ducks into oblivion - im hoping this cures his dogboy depression (it was becoming so wretched that it had started leaking into my curated feeds) - and it made me think of this ask which i've been marinating. hello!!

fortnite legend natemack is the exact age to have grown up in the heyday of COD xbox lobbies, do u ever think about that . i think about that now. do u think natedogg is his gamertag. rpf people are you writing gamergirl natemack AUs yet? has that happened yet? (sorry i don't. i don't have any clue what tropes are popular. im just throwing stuff at the wall <3)

nate is an elite 1C—except that he doesn’t forecheck and doesn’t defend and one of his wingers (jonathan drouin) is actually the playmaker and the other winger (mikko rantanen) has to take all his faceoffs for him 🥰

^craziest description of a 1C i've ever heard AND the most compelling he has ever been.

also thank u for not makin some kind of eating disorder joke amongst all this. it IS that serious (to ME) and people do this so much and i think they're not as funny as they think they are <3 (<- WHO SAID THAT!!!)

MYE two cents looking thru a writer/narrative lens: just, like, skimming whatever the hell comes up about him, he strikes me as someone who is very sincere. i get that everyone calls it "intensity" but i think sincerity has its own power. idk. i think he's very brave for wanting what he wants so transparently and wholly. <3 fortnite legend nathan mackinnon you are in my crosshairs......

[hopelesswritergall]

Taglist: @howyouloveyourdragon / @simp-aholic @daenerysapologist

Thank you @sapphire-writes for giving me inspiration. Your thin ice series was truly a Masterlist

Thank you @daenerysapologist for making me write this

Thank you @valeska-fics for beta reading this and reminding me that comma’s exist…….. You’re a legend

And of course my love @simp-aholic for being there for me :))

Let me know what you thought of this in the comments or hey… maybe even reblog and follow??? WOWOWWWW

A rather peculiar meeting

Cregan was one of THE star players for the White Stags. The ice hockey team that belonged to the university of Kingslanding

He had been playing ice hockey since he could remember. His first few memories he has were of him on the ice. Him getting his first skates, scoring his first goal and receiving his own very custom made Jersey.

Now this brings us to the modern day. Cregan Stark, the star player. He was a centre-sniper. He had the insight and intelligence (so he says himself) to be at the centre, he was the leader of the team. And of course he had to stand out and be a sniper. Making the most important goals.

All of this meant that he was adored by fans, not just from the university, but from everywhere in King’s Landing. They would come to your university just to watch him play.

You were never the biggest fan of ice hockey, due to not understanding it mostly. But eventually Helaena convinced you to come and see a match, because as she said “You need to have a social life. You can’t be a hermit forever.” Which you countered with “But I like how I am now.” At that response she just gave you the look.

So here you are, at the match of the White Stags, totally voluntary. Cough cough

It was during the second period that it went wrong. About ⅓ done with the game and at the 23 minute mark. It all went south

The sound of the crowd was almost deafening, they were cheering very loud for their beloved star player, Cregan Stark. You hadn’t seen much of him yet during the game so you didn’t exactly get the hype around the man. As the crowd began to go silent, you saw a tall man approaching the goal with the puck at his stick. He was weaving, dodging all the defending players of the opposing team. He pulled his stick back ready to swing and score… when he saw you. His heart stopped and he could swear everyone else around him disappeared and it was only you two. He didn’t think and with all his force he shot the puck at the goal only, he wasn’t looking at the goal anymore. He was looking at you. Without you or him noticing flew the puck with an abominable speed right at your face. And then it hit you. No literally the puck hitting your nose sent you backwards. As the crowd goes completely silent and Helaena looks at your face, her eyes widening and Cregan now realising what happened. As you slowly reach up to your nose, afraid of what you’ll find. When you retract your hand it is crimson coloured. Your nose wasn’t the shape it used to be.

“How bad is it Hel?” you asked her, afraid of what she would answer.

“Well, you didn’t like your nose anyways right? Plastic surgery wasn’t off the table yet?”

“Hospital?” “Hospital!”

And as much fun as you were having watching a game you initially didn’t like, you and Helaena rushed outside the stadium and she grabbed your car keys off of you.

“Omg it’s not an automatic?? BABE, I CAN'T DRIVE WITH A SHIFTING STICK!!”

“FUCKING LEARN, IT HEL! IM DYING OVER HERE!” you retorted

One hell of a car ride later.

“Remind me to never let you drive ever again…”

You walked to the emergency room and you got some forms to fill out. Name, age, birthday, how it happened and your insurance were all asked. As you handed them back in, you and Helaena sat down waiting for a doctor to come and help you. After what felt like an eternity, it was only 70 minutes, a doctor came to take you for some examination to see where the broken bone was and what they’d need to do.

After everything was done and they had manually readjusted your nose, they’d bandage it up. You’d gotten a nice gauze around it and secured it tight. You’d have to walk around like that for 3 whole weeks. Guess who’s skipping classes? No, not you, we aren’t that irresponsible…

So you went to all your classes and you just put up with all the weird looks people gave you. You hadn’t, however, seen or spoken to the hot guy who caused it all. You did door his friend, Jake? Jame? Jacle? Oh, Jace! Yeah, you did spot him a few times, but never his other half. It was the day that your gauze could come off that Jace spoke to you, which was weird considering he never did before.

“Uhm hey.. I don’t know if you’d still like to, but my friend would like you to come to another one. He promised he wouldn’t hit you again at the.. Uhm. Well you know.” He gestured to his own nose. “Fine. Sure, I'll be there. But I swear to god Jake,” “Jace” “I swear to god Jace if another puck hits me I’m done. And I don't care how cute your friend is, I won't see another match again.” With that said, you left to go study in the library. As you were walking away you could hear Jace say “I told you man. The Jace way always works!”

It was Friday and the day of the match. You were slightly excited to see the game, as that would mean you would see the cute guy again. Sure, he has broken your nose, but every couple has been there. Right?? As you entered the stadium and found a seat, you couldn’t help but think if he actually liked you, like that Jace guy had hinted at. Well, no more time to think about that. The players were coming to the rink. When Cregan came to the rink, everyone cheered, and that included you as well. He glanced up, and saw you sitting in the stands. He couldn’t help but make a plan to show you he liked you.

After the game was over, and won by the White Stags. Cregan skated over to where you were sitting. Hetook off his jersey, which had gotten whistles from a few people, rolled it into a little ball, and threw it at you. It hit you again…… this time it wasn’t as hard as a puck, but it still caught you by surprise. “What the?” As you looked down, you saw Cregan giving you the most adorable grin you’ve ever seen. He might look like a big confident guy but he wasn’t always. You gave him a smile as you put on the jersey. You would be going to a lot more games after that one.

[whatisreggieshortfor]

Studio Musician

Semi x gn!reader

When the studio told you that they found a fill in guitarist for your band, you were wary. Most studio sanctioned musicians had an ego, they often wanted to force you to change your music to fit the way they played- but you couldn’t argue this time. The album needed finished to make the release date and your fingers were broken. Your drummer, Ichiya, had never been more anxious, he knew your dislike for studio musicians and was afraid you’d replace him since it was his fault- he hadn’t actually meant to do it, but the bass player Mei had convinced you to prank him with a scare after the band had watched Friday the 13th together. He didn’t recognize you under the hockey mask, slamming his window shut on your fingers as he screamed in panic. You didn’t hold it against him, but being an up and coming rock musician boosted his confidence, it didn’t quell his anxiety, so you just tried to reassure him every day that you wouldn’t leave him behind.

So here you waited, sagging in a chair at the soundboard as you waited for the guitarist.

Who was running late.

The sound designer swore he would be there any minute, but you were getting irritated the longer he left you waiting. It had already been twenty minutes passed the agreed upon time, you had other things to do besides waiting to argue with some guy that you weren’t changing the song to fit how he thought it should sound!

Tossing your head back, you scowled at the ceiling, ignoring the studio workers that flitted about the room in preparation and review of what you’d already recorded. “Doesn’t this guy know what being on time means?” You groaned, noting the clock read he was now thirty minutes late.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m here. Traffic is a nightmare.”

Lifting your head, you regarded the bowing man just inside the door. Why was he wearing a dress shirt? You could even see his tie dangling to the floor in front of him. “Better late than never. You received the tracks and sheet music, right?”

“Yes?” He answered in a questioning tone as he stood up straight, regarding you where you sat. You were glad you were already annoyed, otherwise how pretty he was might cause different attention issues. “Could you get the singer for me so we could get started?”

The studio staff around you seemed to freeze- you weren’t exactly known for having an easy going nature while you worked, even if you treated them with what most musicians viewed as more respect and friendliness than they deserved. They also knew you were having a bad day after forgetting your pain medication on the table of the apartment you shared with your band mates. Half of them had secretly placed bets on whether you’d even still be here when the guitarist showed.

Bracing for an argument, they watched as you scoffed, “I am not here to serve you. Get in the booth and show me what you’ve got.”

The grey haired man furrowed his brow, looking more like he was remembering something than he was preparing to snap back, “Wait a second, I know that voice from interviews… are you Y/N?”

“And we have a winner.” You rolled your eyes, standing from your seat and gesturing to the sound booth door you couldn’t open with a cast on your dominant hand, “Are we gonna get started or what? It’s already late and I have more mixing to do tonight.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He pulled his guitar from the case, gently fixing the tuning as you moved back to glaring at the ceiling. You just wanted to get this over with. You wished you were at home, watching tv or pranking Ichiya again because you were terrible at learning from mistakes or- “Can I make a suggestion before we start?”

The sound designer choked on her drink as the question came out- she was a huge fan of yours but panicked any time someone would question your music, she didn’t want to see you kicked from the studio. Your gaze shifted to meet his, fire burning in your irises, “What suggestions?”

He shrugged- were you even going to learn his name before it got printed on the album?- and finally finished setting up his guitar, “Just wondering if you could play me the tracks first so I can hear how you wanted it to sound outside of the sheet music.”

Your gaze was scrutinizing as you stared at him like he’d grown a second head, before finally giving a nod, “I’m sure Dahla can bring those up for you.”

“Who?”

The sound designer waved her hand at his question, you gestured to her, “Dahla. Our sound designer. Do not raise your voice to her, do not make demands. Make a request in a normal tone and she’s usually happy to comply.”

“Uh,” he blinked, unsure why he was being given this information, “Do you guys have shitty luck with studio players around here or something?”

“You could say that.” You gave her a pat on the shoulder, and she immediately queued up the first track, letting him get a feel for it before he disappeared into the sound booth.

It has been three days of working with the same musician, and you still didn’t know his name. Normally you wouldn’t care, when the recordings finished you generally went on your way and didn’t give them another thought, but unlike the others he respected your music. Unlike others, he heeded your words about the way to treat Dahla. Like Ichiya, she suffered anxiety that she majorly overcame to get a job working with artists she admired, but any time she was treated poorly it racked at her self esteem. This guitarist had been the first in a while that you could watch her willingly engage with. And you found yourself watching him more and more as the editing sessions and recordings continued. At the end of the final recording, Dahla just had to open her mouth about it, “So, Y/N, are you going to take him out to celebrate finishing? You know, like you usually do?”

You absolutely did not usually do that, but she mentioned it in front of him for a reason, making you stutter, “Uh, sure? If, you know, if he wants to. We should still be able to find somewhere open, if it’s not too late at night.”

It was pushing eight o clock, there were plenty of places open, but at the same time it gave him an out to claim he had to be up early or that he couldn’t go for one reason or another.

“Sounds fun, will you be joining us?” He shined that smile you’d realized was damn near perfect at Dahla, who offered up an easy laugh.

“Oh- can’t! I have to get the final cut to the agent, and Ichiya and Mei demanded I bring the hard copies over tonight.”

His brow furrowed, “Couldn’t Y/N just bring it home with-“

“Nope!” Dahla cut him off, waving and smiling, “It’s my job as the sound designer to make sure everyone is happy with the finished product.”

Blinking, the man turned to you as if looking for help, but you just sighed, “I would just let it go if I were you. Stubbornness is one of the reasons her tracks are always perfect.”

Dahla knocked her hip against yours as she stood up, slipping her jacket on, “And it’s why you always request me when working in the studio. Now, I’m off, have a great night you two!”

The man- you really needed to learn his name- raised an eyebrow as she scurried out the door, “She’s not a subtle one, is she?”

A bark of laughter escaped you, you hadn’t thought he caught on, “No. No, she is not. But how about that bite to eat?”

“So, what do you do?”

He was caught off guard by the question, blinking at you, “I play guitar?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned in your seat at the ramen counter to look at him, “Thanks, genius. I meant, what do you do usually? I figured it was safe to assume you didn’t wear a suit the first day because that was how you dress to play guitar.”

“Oh.” His cheeks flushed, “Yeah, sorry again for being late. Traffic actually wasn’t bad, but I got held up at my day job. Was afraid to say it because I didn’t want to studio to take the job back.”

“Not like they could.” You smirked, waving your still casted hand, “I can’t play. All the musicians staffed by the studio refuse to work with me. So they called in a…”

“Civil servant Semi Eita, at your service,” he mock saluted, “I work for the government, but music is my passion. Why do the other musicians refuse to work with you?”

You hummed, chuckling as you looked back at your bowl, “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine. The musicians that have filled in before- say when Mei was sick or Ichiya managed to slam his fingers in a car door- they always tried to make me change the music to fit their style.”

He scoffed, “It isn’t their music to change.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed, “But it labeled me as hard to work with, especially since I take part in the whole process up to when it actually hits the shelves.”

“You didn’t give me much trouble, aside from when I made you wait.”

“Made me wait and assumed I was studio staff.”

Semi winced, playing with his chopsticks to avoid looking up at you, “Yeah, not my best move. You look different outside of your stage get up.”

“My stage ‘get up’ isn’t a look.” You laughed, “I just happened to be very dressed down for a day in the studio when we met. Can’t do my full look with this cast on.”

He seemed to regard you for a moment, before offering a shrug, “You look good either way.”

You snorted, giving him a funny look as he seemed to realize what he said, “I was kidding- you know that right? No sane person would do that much work for an every day look.” He nodded, but you didn’t think he was even registering your words as he stared into space with a stone stiff posture. “Uh, Semi? You okay?”

He jerked to look at you, eyes wide despite the usual confidence you saw in him, “You know my name?”

Cringing, you gave him an embarrassed smile, “I didn’t until you said it, when you said you worked for the government.”

Was that a flash of disappointment in his eyes? “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“To be fair, you never told it to me when we met. Which is probably my fault. I was annoyed you were late, and then I was glad you were late because if I stayed annoyed I wouldn’t get distracted from the work.”

“Why would you get distracted?”

“Cause you’re hot?” You were confused, didn’t he know that?

Suddenly the confidence you knew came back, a smirk sliding onto his face, “You think I’m hot?”

“I assume most people do,” you countered easily, sipping your sake, “I mean I have working eyes.”

“Good to know.” He answered, more to himself than anything, the smirk never leaving his face that night.

If your tour a few months later happened to have his band as the opener, many fans speculated that he must have impressed you- it was common knowledge that he was credited on the album after all. No one ever confirmed or denied the allegations, because, well… the reasoning was for you two to know.

No matter how much Dahla and Ichiya gave you shit about it.

Masterlist

[msmargaretmurry]

mcstrome and bogosort (like the compsci algorithm lol)

ok i read the wiki article for this and also several memes about it and i'm still not sure i understand it, because i am a humanities girlie whose brain makes dial-up noises when anything too math-y or science-y is introduced into my enclosure. so i'm sorry if i misunderstood the concept but i am going on vibes alone here. this would be a multiverse fic. a fic about connor mcdavid experiencing the multiverse.

so, at the start of this story, maybe connor and dylan aren't totally estranged, but they're not close like they used to be either. they've drifted apart. they text for, like, birthdays and major life events. connor's not sure whose fault that is, and it makes him kind of sad to think about, but honestly, he doesn't think about it too much. they just have their own lives now. connor is very busy trying to drag edmonton kicking and screaming into something resembling a success story; dylan has finally found a team that appreciates him in washington; they are living their lives, separately.

the oilers come to dc for their annual visit. connor and dylan don't get dinner — they stopped doing that a long time ago. sometimes, they'll chat in the hallway after a game, but sometimes the most they do is bump each other on the ice in that way that means hello, i'm aware that you're here. this feels like it's going to be one of those nights, where it's just the bump, the acknowledgement. it's whatever. not important. the oilers need the win. they've been having a rough roadtrip. they go up two early, then cough up three in a row in the second, and in the third, connor takes a big hit while he's crashing the net and whacks his head hard on the crossbar of the goal. everything explodes, and then everything goes black.

and then he wakes up. not on the ice, not in the hospital, not anywhere he recognizes — he's not in his own life. maybe this first one is the universe where buffalo won the mcdavid sweepstakes in 2015, and he's in a condo overlooking lake erie. maybe there's a recent picture of him and dylan on the refrigerator, which is weird, because they haven't taken a photo together in years. i am physically restraining myself from figuring out all of the universe-hopping stuff, but long story short, this keeps happening. every time he falls asleep, he wakes up in a new universe. sometimes he's an oiler, sometimes he's not. he's almost always a hockey player, but sometimes he's not. once, pretty early on, he wakes up to a familiar voice while someone shakes him gently awake on a couch.

"come on, davo, you know sleeping out here always gives you a crick in your neck," dylan is saying. connor, half-asleep, lets himself be tugged to a bedroom, arranged into being a little spoon. as he's drifting off, he wonders if he was on the couch because they fought, wonders what they could have fought about, wants desperately to know what lives they're living here in this world, but he's too far gone, and he wakes up alone in another new universe feeling so dumbstruck with sadness that he rolls over and goes back to sleep without even figuring out where or what he is.

most of the worlds are just a few steps away from his own reality, but some of them are weird and wild. dystopian worlds, worlds with incredible technological advancements, a world where he can see ghosts, a world where he can read minds. a world where he has dylan inked on the inside of his wrist, and he thinks it's a tattoo until he sees that everyone has a name on their wrist like that. he looks everywhere, convinced that because the name is there, dylan must be nearby, but he can't find him anywhere.

he doesn't know if any of this is real, if it even matters what he does in all of these worlds, and he doesn't know if he'll ever get back to his original reality, or if one day he'll wake up in a world and just be stuck there, so he does his best in each one, trying not to fuck things up. sometimes he's married to a woman. he never knows how to act in those universes. sometimes, he wakes up with guys who are clearly one-night stands. a couple of times, he has a boyfriend who's a secret. once, he has a boyfriend who's not. he doesn't know how to act with them, either. he doesn't know them.

then he wakes up with dylan again. or, he wakes up with with lips on his neck and a hand sliding into his pajama pants, a good morning murmured in his ear. they never did this in real life. or — in that life, connor's first life, the one that's starting to feel frighteningly far away. but connor doesn't think about that in this moment, because they never did this in real life, even when he wanted it, when he was a teenager with the most painful crush in the world and there were a moments when he thought it might be possible. they have slow, lazy sex. dylan touches him like every inch of him is familiar. afterward, when they're laying together all sated and pleased, connor thinks to himself, don't fall asleep don't fall asleep don't fall asleep, but he must doze off for even half a second, because he opens his eyes in a hotel room in atlanta. he's in a universe where the thrashers still exist.

and on it goes. worlds upon worlds, universes upon universes. it gets lonely; it gets boring. connor wants to go home. he wants to wake up with dylan again. if he woke up with dylan again, he wouldn't mind one more universe, but he's just about had it with the rest of them. he misses his real teammates, misses his stupid text thread with his brother, wants to call his mom. he starts waking up and, if it's not his real life and dylan's not there, he just goes back to sleep. if he can't fall back asleep — fuck every well-rested version of himself, seriously — he bullshits his way through until he can figure out where to buy some melatonin or whatever.

maybe he's dying. or maybe he's dead, and this is hell. or purgatory. he doesn't think his family believes in purgatory, but that doesn't mean it's not real.

the barrier between worlds starts getting thinner. now, if he just closes his eyes for too long, he's gone. new universe. he starts to be able to — hear isn't quite the right word, but it's the best one he has for the sensation, so — hear the next universe coming, if he closes his eyes and concentrates. it makes it easy. a new kind of tedium. flipping through worlds with barely a glance, because all he wants is—

he wakes up with dylan again. or, precisely, he wakes up to a giant, fluffy golden retriever licking his face, and dylan in the background, calling out with laughter and resignation, "buddy, no, let him sleep!"

too late, connor thinks. "too late," he says out loud. it's been dozens of universes since he spoke out loud.

"i swear he can sense the moment you start even thinking of waking up," dylan says. "come on, if you're up anyway, i'm making breakfast."

connor is wearing a ring on his left ring finger. his stomach growls. he goes to the kitchen, and dylan serves him eggs on a plate held be a hand with a matching ring on the left ring finger.

"please tell me you made coffee," he says, and of course dylan did. connor downs as much of it as he can stomach. he is not falling asleep today.

they're still hockey players. they're in — raleigh, connor figures out through context clues. it's their day off. they're supposed to go grocery shopping. they do go grocery shopping. they hold hands while grocery shopping. it feels like a dream. it's perfect. after they put the groceries again, dylan looks at him askance and asks, "is there something on my face? you keep staring at me today."

"uh," connor says. "i don't know, maybe i'm in love with you or something."

dylan rolls his eyes, but also beams, and crowds connor against the kitchen counter to kiss him. they kiss for a long time before they move to the bedroom. having sex again, connor wonders if it's real that dylan's body feels familiar. he's so careful to not close his eyes for more than a blink. he wouldn't be able to handle it if this got ripped away from him, too. there's still a lot of day left when they're done, and it's lazy and lovely and perfect. when they go to bed that night, connor lays awake for as long as he can, watching dylan sleep. at around three in the morning, he wakes dylan up just so he can kiss him a little bit more. dylan complains about the waking up, but not the kissing, and falls back asleep quickly once connor lets him. connor makes it to sunrise before he can't keep his eyes open anymore. he tries, he tries so hard, but he hears the next universe whooshing in, cold, a bloom of pain in his head—

he's on his back on the ice at capital one arena. everything is too bright, and he makes out the feeling of the hand squeezing his before he can actually see anything. "hey, connor, don't move, we're bringing out a board," someone is saying. connor shuts his eyes, hard. he doesn't go anywhere. another squeeze, too tight.

"davo," dylan says.

connor blinks him into focus. their eyes meet, and dylan exhales something like a relieved laugh.

"hey," he says, his hand warm around connor's. "there you are."

[lukeevangelista]

Heartbreaker - Arber Xhekaj

This was a collab with @lifeofpriya!!

Make sure to check out part two on her page here!!

Enjoy

_________________________________________________

“I don’t understand-“ Juraj started to speak before you quickly cut him off with a snarky huff.

Arber had been brought up once again.

“He only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.” You said as you looked towards Juraj and Kaiden, who had been trying to convince you to speak to your ex for what felt like hours, but in reality, it had only been a few minutes.

The tension in the room was extremely thick and could be cut with a knife, and you knew exactly why.

They were friends with both you and Arber, and they just found out what had happened between the two of you.

“But, you both seemed like you were so in love with each other,” Kaiden couldn’t help but squish his eyebrows together as he stared at you. As he ran his hands through his blonde hair, he couldn’t help but gaze at you with a deep frown. “We just don’t understand why you and Arber abruptly decided to end the relationship….”

Shaking your head, you drew a breath and released it before speaking. “What is this? 20 questions? I told you both already. I really don’t know another way to say it.” You grumbled as your eyes focused on the lamp in the corner of the room, “Things between me and Arber are done! We’re no longer together!”

You tightly clenched your jaw out of frustration as you stared at the two hockey players who stood in front of you.

“Just…just please leave me alone,” you let out a heavy, low sigh before your eyes fixated on Kaiden and Juraj. “I think you both need to leave.” You mumbled, “I’ll see you both around some time, but right now, I need to be alone.”

“Okay.” Kaiden nodded as he and Juraj gave you a small hug, “Call us if you need us. Please don’t hesitate to reach out.” He whispered as he gave you a tight squeeze.

“Yeah- whatever.” You murmured as you walked them over to the front door.

******

“You need to fucking talk to her.” Kaiden hissed as soon as Arber opened the door. Kaiden gave him a light shove, allowing him and Juraj in.

“Do I?” Arber asked as he rolled his eyes, “Because if I remember correctly, she ended it with me.”

“You do.” Juraj stated, “Stop being a prick, Arber.” He continued, “It’s not worth it. You are in love with her and you chose-“

“I didn’t choose anything!” He shouted, cutting Juraj off, “She ended it with me! I don’t understand how many times i need to say this to get you to understand.”

“She ended it because she couldn’t get commitment from you!” Kaiden interjected, his voice raising with every word. “All she ever wanted was to be loved by you! But, did you do that? No. ”

“She just wanted you to figure your shit out.” Juraj said as he watched Arber slowly start to pace in the living room, “I just think-“

“Stop!” Arber cut him off, “That’s enough. I don’t need to hear what you and Kaiden think. This was between me and Y/N.”

“Well when she opened up to us about you breaking her heart, that’s when it becomes our business.” Kaiden said as he stood up, taking a few steps towards Arber. His cold, bitter eyes stared into Arber’s warm, but sad brown ones, “Fix it Xhekaj. She deserves more than you.” He continued, “She deserves better.”

Juraj silently nodded his head in agreement with Kaiden. “You really messed up, Arber.” He crossed his arms around his chest and stared at his teammate. “Come on, Kaiden, let’s get out of here. .”

Juraj stood up and walked over to the front door; he briefly looked over his shoulder and shook his head at Arber. Kaiden walked over to where Juraj stood – waiting for him – but he still felt his blood boil.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Kaiden muttered under his breath; his foot was out the door, but the other was still firmly planted on the floor. “But, you are a fucking moron, Xhekaj.”

“Don’t you think I know this?” Arber shouted at his friends as the front door was close to shutting. Kaiden whipped it back open, a glare on his face, “Kaiden, do you not realize I know I fucked up? I let one of the best things that’s ever happened to me walk out that door.” He said as he pointed towards the door, trying to emphasize his point, “When you tell me I’m a fucking moron and I messed up and shit; trust me, I already know I really fucked up.”

[latenightswaudiobooks]

Always Only You

Book 2 In Bergman Brothers Series

What it’s about: A duel P.O.V. slow-burn forbidden office romance book. Where your leads are a Shakespeare loving hockey player with a heart of gold that I would describe as a golden retriever is hopelessly in love with a fiercely guarded and independent social media manager I would describe as a black cat. This book is comedic gold and has great chronic illness and autism representation!

Pages or Run Time: 10 Hour 18 Minutes

⭐ Overall Rating: 100/10 (I loved this book so much) (I'm not even exaggerating I LOVED this book!)

🌶️ Spice Rating: 6/10 (There are some scenes but nothing crazy but I was content with it!)

I don't think I need a trigger warning for this one unless you count living with the highs and lows of autism or chronic illness. Always check the books for the actual list of trigger warnings though!

Why To Read Listen: Real authentic chronic illness and autism representation, it's a hockey romance, a reverse grumpy x sunshine, and to top it off it's got the best quips/dry humor.

‼️ Beyond Here Contains Spoilers ‼️

Favorite Character: Frankie she was the first character I can say I felt completely seen and understood by and she is hilarious. I wish she was real so I could actually meet her.

Least Favorite Character: Also Frankie? I saw myself in her to much and felt little me screaming at her during every self sabotage. They hurt me just as much as they hurt her. Taking that away I loved her. I guess if I had to pick one outside of her that I unfortunately can't give much commentary on because they technically aren't really in the book except maybe a second. It's the god damn "reporters" more like paparazzi.

Favorite Part: When Ren convinces her they can take care of each other. It wasn't a one way street and that he wasn't leaving.

Least Favorite Part: When Frankie was in the hospital with Pneumonia and freaks out at Ren for missing his game and going with her to the hospital/staying with her. She breaks up with him in a giant moment of self sabotage. It broke me. I was so angry with Frankie in that moment but, I also know I would of done the same which made it more painful.

Favorite Quotes: “I’m okay. Sometimes I feel big feelings and they make me have tears.”

“I’m tough." "I know you are." "I can take care of myself." "You have." "You still do. You always will. I’ve just joined in, too. Now we take care of each other.”

“Men have been objectifying women for millennia. Simply doing my part to settle the score.”

My Thoughts: I will say it again I LOVED this book! This was a slow burn I was sucked right in to, kept my attention, and made me want more every time I had to stop listening! That is rare for me! As a autistic person with a chronic illness and chronic pain I finally found a romance heroine I could actually relate to! She talks about feeling as if no one can love her because of how she acts and reacts to things. She feels as if she will be seen as a burden because of her illnesses and because of it she believes everyone will leave her and she will never be able to find love. Our hero through (almost 😉) everything stays a ball of sunshine and loves her without a thought towards her illnesses in the sense of he doesn't see her illness as any reason to love her any less and the thought never crosses his mind. He cares for her health so much that she feels suffocated towards it at a point. I would describe him as being like a helicopter parent at times which I would also find suffocating. I felt so seen, but also called out by this book which at first I found unsettling, but in the end I loved it. I had never felt like the romance stories could be real or at least real for me until this book. Some of the situations and dialogue reminded me so of my lovely fiance and I. The hero said many things to the heroine that she has said to me. The heroine said many things that I've either thought about her or talked to her about. It has a happy ending in the end and I was left happily content

I will read more in the series!

Give me book recommendations based off this book!

[yloiseconeillants]

15 Questions!~

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yes! My mother named both me and my sister after Very Popular Characters on her Very Popular Late 1980s Daytime Soap Opera. Then she named my brother after MacGyver.

2. When was the last time you cried?

bachelor party mushroom trip bath time last weekend (it was a joyous cry)

3. Do you have kids?

No, and no interest personally. I have two nieces and a nephew. My partner and I are considering fostering older kids/teens when we're in our 40s/50s but that remains to be seen.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Not often, and when I do it's almost exclusively purposely meant to fall Very Flat (I have been told I have some sort of sense of humor by my friends but none of us can figure it out).

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

My grandfather was convinced that since I was tall for a preschooler that I would end up as a basketball player and tried to encourage me and my sister to take up basketball as children (taking us to college games, playing with us at the local park, etc) but I ended up more of a 'scrambling through creeks before spending hours being weird at the library' kind of kid. In high school, I did enjoy dance, badminton, and field hockey when forced to do so through p.e. classes, but I'm. not sports.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Oh yikes, it depends on the circumstances? If I'm meeting someone new at a familiar place among familiar people, usually how they interact with people that I know? What their body language conveys about a relationship or acquaintanceship, I guess. If it's an entirely new person in a neutral environment, like at work, probably still body language, but I'd be checking more for like, how nervous they are to determine what kind of tone to take with them (I worked in a government office for Official Technical Stuff and there's a lot of people who are Very Unsure about what they ~should be doing).

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Oh, scary movies. Happy endings are great but I tend to prefer media that just coincidentally doesn't have them? (so when I *am* enjoying something that *does* have a happy ending, it's so much sweeter). However, I love being spooked and I am *very* easily spooked so like, you can find me watching horror movies from a distance in my kitchen with all the lights on, and the sound turned off during the really scary bits and I'll be like, making food to combat the terrors - having a fucking fantastic time actually.

8. Any special talents?

Good memory for things I have written down.

9. Where were you born?

California, baby!

10. What are your hobbies?

playing barbies and falling into research holes

11. Do you have any pets?

I have two cats :) They are Very Neurotic.

12. How tall are you?

13. Fave subject in school?

I mean, I really enjoyed majoring in community development (focus on urban planning, but the public engagement bits of that were really fun), but if we're talking like, high school, definitely drama. Like, yes, it was mostly just my friends and I fucking around for an hour during school and however many hours after school, but I genuinely enjoyed the academic bits of it when my teacher still pretended to give at least somewhat of a fuck before she checked out entirely in my last two years in it. Language and literature classes were usually pretty fun, especially in community college (shout out to my Russian lit course for being Wild and to that time that I took a required English class that was taught by a teacher whose background was poetry). OH AND THIS INSTITUTIONAL ECON CLASS I TOOK-

14. Dream job?

Don't believe in 'dream' jobs but in a situation where I was still forced to rely on working to survive but I could do whatever I wanted, I'd love to like just wear a bright vest and hang out on public transportation and give people information on transit routes and destinations. Please let me help the tourists. They need help.

15. Eye colour?

that fucky 'grey' color which means I can't fucking see shit when it's bright out because i'm squinting too much

Tagged by @mirrim-the-moonfaerie and @sundered-souls

Tagging: whoever wants a tag!!

[tinycupcakesstuff]

Gonna jump into my time machine and do one of these!

1. Share a song that makes you think of - Celine Dion “I drove all night” is part of the soundtrack of my Eric/Sam origins fic when after having a big fight, Sam drives all night to rescue Eric from his family after he comes out disastrously when he returns home for his fathers funeral.

2. Do you read/reread your own fics? Yes, my WIPs.

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? I’m enjoying my WIPs, my pre movie and during movie fics are my babies.

4. How many WIPs do you have right now? 2-3

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write? I started it, but may not post…a decades post movie fic where Sam convinces Eric to watch Fellow Travelers and he just totally loses it and adult Scot comes home to find eric a sobbing distraught mess and thinks someone had died only yo find out a Eric is in his feelings about Hawk and Tim and yells at him calling him snd *ass*hole.

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? Yes all BwS fic on repeat in perpetuity.

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now? So many.

8. What project(s) are you currently working on? A Eric/Sam origin story pre movie with goal of 80k words, at 50k. I have a during movie into immediate post movie fic jm 30k words into.

9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written! Not every day but I think about writing every day.

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? Never published 🥴

11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics? No. I live in silence.

12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it! NA

13. How much planning do you do before writing? Lots of thinking of the scenes. I need to know what’s happening then write it down.

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? Omg yes…TV series. Multiple seasons. Lots of story to tell.

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters? Still working on title for my premo is fic but my other one is a line from the film.

16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles? When it’s right. Can be at any point.

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic? Omg, well I’m a die hard hockey fan now. #Leafsforever

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Eric never knew he had a type, but this has to be it. Physically, Sam was a very handsome man but it was beyond that to the very dignified way he carried himself at all times.

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

Eric stared up at a group of men, the fluorescent lights created a halo effect around them. Instead of angelic and comforting, the effect was surreal. He suddenly felt frightened. 

By the tense posture and squared jaw he could immediately discern one of the figures as his coach, Bob Axelrod. Eric was careful not reveal any sign of fear or emotion on his face. There was also dad, a doctor, and a younger man he didn’t recognize. He shook his head in a lame attempt to collect himself. The feelings of fear and confusion crested into a wave of anger. 

His Dad spoke first. “It’s about time you woke up.” He and Axelrod were cut from the same cloth. Men hardened by their meager circumstances they could never quite overcome. In his father’s case, he was stuck running the family business and never got to live out his dream of being a hockey player. That was Eric’s job. Axelrod was just born angry and hateful, and had his own middling NHL career to stand on. They were equally triggered by any demonstration of humanity, that was weakness. Eric was supposed to be a hockey machine, nothing more, nothing less. This Dad and Axelrod were looking down at him with matching contemptuous scowls. They had a knack for sucking all the air out of the room.

“Yeah, I know, how embarrassing for me to be rendered unconscious by general anesthesia. What will the papers say? ‘Eric McNally is a sissy,’ right Ax?”

Axelrod snorted derisively, “Fucking faggot, more like. You caused a God damn brawl and now Sanders is out with a sprained ankle.”

Eric clocked the fourth man wincing from the use of the slur, and he self-consciously straightened his burgundy paisley tie that perfectly complemented his immaculately tailored suit.

“I don’t give a fuck about Sanders,” Eric spat out.

The nurse was still standing next to the fourth man and Eric watched them exchange an uneasy glance. He was tall and handsome and seemed to be comfortable in his own skin and pink tie. He didn’t look like someone who gets pushed around. Something in his expression changed as he stepped forward, “Mr. McNally, I’m so glad you are awake. I’m Sam Miller, your lawyer. John Thompson assigned me to your case.” He looked Axelrod square in the face and then back to Eric. “There was indeed quite a melee after you were knocked unconscious by Sanders. Multiple players engaged in a fight and sustained injuries. Some are pursuing legal action against the team. That is why I am here, and I would advise you not to speak with the team’s representatives without me being present.”

Eric’s Dad lunged forward. “They sent a lawyer up here! This is absolutely ridiculous. Bob Axelrod did nothing wrong. We don’t want you here.”

Sam then directed his cold gaze to Eric’s father, “No one sent me. Mr. McNally is a long-term client of our firm and I am here to represent him with all matters pertaining to his contractual relationship with the Toronto Maple Leafs Hockey Club and his rights to pursue civil and criminal charges against those who assaulted him on Thursday.”

Eric’s dad wagged a finger in Sam’s face,“Get out of here! No one wants you here!”

Eric watched on in horror and sat up in the bed too fast causing an overwhelming shooting pain down his arm.“Fuck!” He cried out loudly.

They all paused in their tracks, temporarily fixated on Eric who was breathing slowly trying to ride out the wave of intense pain. He was determined to put an end to this, and pushed through the pain to yell at his father. 

“Dad! What the fuck do you think you are doing? Don’t you dare lay a finger on him! Get out of here! You and Axelrod need to get the fuck out of here and don’t ever come back! You can go out there and talk about what a fucking disappointment I am and fantasize about how you want to take me out back with your rifle and put me down. Get the fuck out of here.” 

Eric laid back down in the bed and pressed the button to his morphine drip. 

Eric’s Dad and Axelrod left grumbling to each other.. Eric breathed a sigh of relief. Sam hesitated a second, allowing them to leave first. After their voices receded down the hallway, Sam started to make his exit. 

“Hey, Sam. You can stay. I just wanted those assholes to clear out.”

He turned back into the room and approached the bed with a hint of a smile , “I’m Sam Miller. Pleased to meet you officially. And, um, thanks for that.”

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written? TBD

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why? YES! I originally had them meet in a totally different way. But, I will post that as a separate one shot one day.

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing? No. I am more of a pantser than a plotter. All I know is HEA!

23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)? I like to end on dialogue or a nice thought that is a nice point to pause or reflect on.

24. Share a moodboard for (one of) your current WIP(s). OMG, I have a whole pinterest for Eric and Sam.

Sam

Eric

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing? Not really.

26. Is there something you’ve written that you would never want your family to see? ALL OF IT heheheheh

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why? I'm nervous to post, but I know that I want this story out there.

28. Have you ever tagged a fic “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat”? LOL no

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Okay, I will post the above referenced fic.

“There, there.” Sam says, patting Eric’s head absently.

They’re sitting on the couch, Sam with his legs up on the coffee table and Eric sitting beside him with his head between his legs. Eric lets out a few muffled sobs. Sam hears the footsteps approaching quicker than he can think of a plausible explanation for the current state of affairs. 

Sam turns his head without removing his hand, fingers now weaving through Eric’s salt and pepper flecked hair. The contour of Eric’s skull in his hand is so familiar, it’s like the back of his hand. What is less familiar is Eric’s emotional outburst. Eric had become considerably more in touch with his feelings since Scot came into their lives, but this sort of outpouring of emotion was a first for Eric. Sam was surprised when Eric willingly watched the latest television series depicting LGBT issues. Eric didn’t typically care much, but when Sam explained the premise of the new series Fellow Travelers, Eric was intrigued.

They had met in the last few seasons of Queer as Folk which Eric would watch but roll his eyes at. It’s been more than 20 years since they met, and a lot has changed since then. Eric came out on air and became involved with several LGBTQIA sports organizations, learning the acronyms and finally embracing his community.

So they sat down on the couch each Sunday to stream it, Eric more than Sam eagerly awaiting the new episode. Yelling at the screen. He was completely and utterly captivated by the on screen depiction of two men in love.

Sam glanced over his shoulder expecting Scot to appear at any moment, his footsteps were approaching rapidly. 

“Eric is having feelings,” Sam says by way of explanation.

A look of terror washes across Scot’s handsome face. He had grown into a tall, broadchested  man in the years since they adopted him. He spent far more time in the gym than Sam would have ever predicted, much to Eric’s delight. There was a lot of truth to Sam’s theory that his strong embrace for the feminine was an expression of his grief for his mother and an attempt to stay close to her. As he moved into puberty and processed his grief he learned to embrace his masculine side. Now, he was a grown man with he/him pronouns and his partner is trans. He goes to the gym to keep up his bulky physique, but wears his hear long and styled to perfection with a full beard. He’s the product of three parents who embraced him fully and allowed him to express his authentic self.

“What the hell is going on?” He says, voice quivering, betraying a deep concern. The rich, deep, sound of Scot’s voice snaps Sam back to reality. Still, after all these years, sometimes Sam expects his prepubescent squeak after all these years. 

As if on queue, Eric pops his head up. 

“Oh, hey, Scot. How was the lecture?” 

“Eric, you’re sobbing!” Scot nearly shouts and rushes to the couch and wedging himself between them, a habit he’s had since he was a boy. Sam’s lips start to twitch up into a smile and he and Eric exchange a look behind Scot’s shoulders.

Eric, who has now fully regained his composure, opens his mouth to speak when he is abruptly cut off by Scot.

“Are you ok? Is Sam ok? Tell me. I can take it.” 

Sam’s hand is now on Scot’s head, weaving his fingers through his long, shoulder length auburn locks, “Scot, slow down.”

Eric slips an arm around Scot’s waist, “We’re fine, Scot. We were just watching Fellow Travelers.”

“Assholes!” Scot shouts as he shoots up off the couch.Sam and Eric can’t help but laugh. Sam is bemused by Scot’s swearing. He, like Sam, isn’t prone to profanities. Unlike Eric, who has very colorful language picked up of a lifetime of locker room talk.

He’s pacing in front of the TV.

“Ass—” he pauses, allowing Sam and Eric join him to complete the phrase, “holes!”

“First of all, I thought one of you were sick! I know the story of Hawk and Skippy is emotional, but Eric, really? Sobbing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before.”

“I’m a closet romantic,” Eric snarks back.

Sam chimes in to Eric’s defense, “I mean, it’s pretty sad. Historically speaking.”

Scot shrugs and settles back in on the couch, “So, Eric, do you want to talk about it?”

Eric huffs impatiently, “I think you guys are making more out of this than it needs to be.”

Sam rubs his back gently, patiently waiting for Eric to open up.

“Fine. It’s just that I think about how when we fell in love, and what if we met at another time, and I don’t know…”

Sam smiles a knowing smile that reaches his eyes while Scot looks on confused.

Eric waves a hand dismissively. “I was thinking about what if I couldn’t have you. What if we couldn’t be together. I would have ended up like Tim, on an odyssey to get over you but never able to.”

“I love that my parents are so in love.”

30. Ask anything

I’m Bored and Anxious So I Slapped Together a List of Fan Fic Writer Asks

1. Share a song that makes you think of [fic title] 2. Do you read/reread your own fics? 3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? 4. How many WIPs do you have right now? 5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write? 6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? 7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now? 8. What project(s) are you currently working on? 9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written! 10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? 11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics? 12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it! 13. How much planning do you do before writing? 14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? 15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters? 16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles? 17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic? 18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic? 19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs. 20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written? 21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why? 22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing? 23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)? 24. Share a moodboard for (one of) your current WIP(s). 25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing? 26. Is there something you’ve written that you would never want your family to see? 27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why? 28. Have you ever tagged a fic “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat”? 29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.) 30. Ask anything!

[loveyou-4-life]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓—brendan brisson

request: just wanted to say i’m in love with the series already and can’t wait for the other chapters to come out, but maybe being in a secret relationship with briss and maybe exchanging secret glances around when you go out to party or a bar and stuff, and one of the guys tests his patience by flirting with you, would love to see a possessive briss.

warnings: mature language and mention of alcohol and sex. lower case intended. not proof read.

authors note: glad you’re enjoying the series and hope you like this since it’s my first time writing a request. i had a little too much fun with this tho.

masterlist

BRENDAN BRISSON. the hockey player you’ve foolishly fallen for.

maybe you did fall first but he fell harder, you weren’t sure how did your fling turn into something serious but it definitely effected you for the better.

everything about you and briss screamed soulmates, it’s just nobody actually knew you were soulmates.

the “hiding” began when briss said he wasn’t ready, you waited for him. but its been 8 long months now and still you weren’t out for the world to see how much you love each other.

of course you were okay with waiting for him when he was ready, but he had no problem putting an arm around a girls’ shoulder and post it on social media.

you started doubting yourself a little bit, thinking he was ashamed but you knew deep down he loved you too much to be ashamed.

a fight started because of this and that’s what lead you to here, in a bar with your bestfriends and your second drink in your hand, staring at your boyfriend across the bar.

the eye contact.

it brought you memories when you first started dating, it was always like this tho. Never lasted too long for anyone to notice but never lasted too short for you to not signal something.

he was back from vegas, and still he was trying to convince you to move with him back there. but how would you move there when everything was here, your friends,your job.

why would you go to las vegas if you go to hiding from the world?

— 2 hours ago —

“I just don’t understand whats the problem with this” He examined. His spot on the bed cold now when he left your grip.

“You don’t understand? Bren why would I want to go to vegas when I have no one there” You said. Practically fuming, he wasn’t getting it. Why go there so you could hide and start all over again.

“You have me” He yelled. You flinched Brendan rarely shouted.

“No i don’t have you , i have you when we’re just us two but i don’t have you when i’m in public Bren. This isn’t something that i want to do in the first place and all i’ve done all year was accomplish your needs and this is the one thing i can’t do” A long pause. Too silent and the tension could be cut with a knife. He stared at you , more like glared.

“Do not hold that against me, i told you i’m not ready for that yet” He snapped sitting up. You sighed , closing your eyes and putting your head down.

“And i get that but Brendan you can’t just expect me to pack up my life here so i can go back to hiding and being lonely in a place like Vegas” You whispered softly. It was 3 in the morning you didn’t have the energy to fight , and with shouting like Brendans you were going to be woken up by pounding on your door by your landlord.

“You still are hiding here”

“Brendan you know its different when I have friends here and i have a job, and i don’t feel less because actually people like me here and aren’t ashamed of me so thats en-” the words just came out of your mouth. you stopped yourself from continuing when you realized what you said. you had your doubts.

The look on Brendans face showed hurt, you were in the wrong by saying that but you were in the right by saying your feeling. It had been on your mind for a couple weeks from now and it was bound to come out some way.

“I am not ashamed of you” he spat. Grabbing his jacket and walking out of the door before you had moved quickly to reach him.

“I-” before you could finish your sentence the slamming of the door was heard around the apartment, your eyes filled up with tears and they slowly starting spilling out.

What have I done?

— Present —

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hand on your shoulder and a kiss being placed on your cheek. You turn around ready to fight back but soon held back when you meet Bords’ smirk.

“What are you doing” You question suspiciously. He smirked getting too close to your face as you got away from him.

“Relax just trying make your boy jealous a little” He whispered in your ear. You were confused but then he made a pointed look behind you, you turned your head meeting a very angry looking Briss. How did he know?

You turned , your mouth opened to explain. “Me and him don’t… I mean we don’t… He and I aren’t like that…” You said to Bords. He chuckled holding up his finger to shush you. You gave him a weird look, your eyebrows came together.

“I know” he said sipping his drink. You shot up.

“You know?”

“Yes i know i mean if I didn’t know I probably would be blind but it’s cool Y/n/n” He said. You were still stunned tho , he took the seat behind you making you look up to see a Briss’ eyes behind him.

His eyes spoke anger and his jaw clenched, you never saw this side of Briss. The side of how he was jealous. This kinda eye contact was going to end up with you guys fighting again later tonight if Bords didn’t stop.

“You’re playing a dangerous game” You said to a smirking Bords. You could sense he was planning something that could possibly end with him having a broken nose.

You knew Briss loved Bords but you also knew what extent Briss would go to for you.

“I’ll be fine i won’t cross the line now laugh like i said something funny” He encourages. Listening to him , you laughed out loud, faking it. You knew any other person would believe it but if Briss saw that he would call bullshit.

“Good now I’m gonna put my hands on your hips for at least fifteen seconds, you okay with that?” He questioned your consent. You nodded at him, he gently placed his tatted hands on your hips and your eyes went to behind him trying to find Brendan. But he was gone.

“Keep your hands to yourself Bords” A hand was placed in your waist, but this time it was hands you always get butterflies when you came in contact with. Brendan.

You try to hide a smile forming on your face by his clearly possessive tone. Bords took his hand off your waist, a smirk appearing in his face.

“Why should I?” He questioned. Brendans grip tightened. He knew it was time, and he actually felt ready. I guess it was a moment decision.

“Because shes taken” He said. You gave Bords a tight lipped smile, his plan worked.

“By who? she never mentioned to have a boyfriend” He smirked teasing him. He was trying to get it out of him.

You were starting to feel bad, what if he really wasn’t ready?. Pressuring him to tell Bords was bad and made you feel guilty especially if that’s not what your partner wanted.

Before you could interfere, Brendan said the words you wanted to hear for weeks now. “By me, shes taken by me” He pulled you into his chest.

“That’s all I wanted to get out of you man” Bords took his drink and slipped off the bar stool. Brendan taking his seat.

“Asshole I knew he isn’t that funny to make you laugh like that and besides that wasn’t your real laugh anyway , you always make that snorkel pig sound accidentally at the end” He examined. Bringing your chair closser and putting his head in your shoulder. You flushed embarrassed at the comment but relieved nobody heard him.

“I’m sorry I pressured you into telling him if you want I’m sure if we tell him not to tell anyone he wouldn-” You get cut off by a kiss, a kiss by Brendan. In public place. You were stunned at first but kissed him back.

“Don’t be, You’re mine already just now I get to tell the world that.” He whispered against your lips. A smile appeared on your face, his forhead resting against yours.

“Never leave home angry Bren. Ever again, okay?” You muttered. A worried look on your face. He nodded a small soft smile in his lips.

“Now will you give moving to Vegas with me a thought please?” he questioned. Pulling you to kiss your forehead. You nodded as you put your head in his chest.

You felt eyes on you wondering if people saw you, your questions were answered when you heard Lukes voice say “Did Briss just kiss Y/n or am i too drunk?”

—