#look this man just likes doing his little puck tricks in front of the glass where i like to stand
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ikealamps · 9 months ago
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more borgy content | vegas @ sea, mar 12 2024
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hockeyisit · 3 years ago
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Let’s Go
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Summary: Amelia takes the twins to a game.
AN: hey! Here’s a little something I wrote awhile ago and finally finished! This idea kind of just came to me because I know how rough the Toronto media can be. Also I’ll be taking request and if you want to ask the family anything don’t be shy!
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Unedited 
Word Count: 1,643
“C’mon boys,” I said pulling the twins closer to me. We were currently at the leafs game standing near the glass while the team warmed up.
“No wait! Papa hasn’t come over,” Noah whined standing firm where he was. I let out a soft sigh as I nodded my head. I then took the empty seat that I was standing next to feeling exhausted. I was in my first trimester of my third pregnancy and I was always constantly exhausted. I had only agreed to take the boys to the game after a lot of begging on their part.
“Mama can I have my hat,” Kai asked, tugging on my sweatpants. I quickly pulled the hat out of Austons stolen sweatshirt and put it on Kais head. Just as I was finishing, Auston skated over to us. The boys immediately lit up and started banging on the glass. Auston smiled as he tapped the glass with his stick before looking to me.
“You okay?” He asked although the glass muffled it so it was more like he mouthed it. I nodded my head giving him a weak smile. “Tired,” I mouthed. He nodded his head before doing some trick with his stick so that he could pick up a puck. The boys cheered causing all of us to smile. Auston then flipped the puck over the glass for Noah to catch. A little girl next to him holding a poster looked slightly jealous and Noah seemed to notice because he turned to her and offered her the puck. The little girl's face instantly lit up and I felt nothing but pure happiness at what a little gentleman the twins were becoming.
“Sup,” Mitch mouthed, coming up next to Auston. The two talked for a minute before waving to us and finishing their drills.
“Okay c'mon boys it’s time to go to our seats,” I said standing up and grabbing their hands. The three of us made our way over to the stairs but we were stopped by a familiar looking man.
“Your Amelia Matthews right?” He asked placing his hand in front of me to stop my movements. He was wearing a press necklace and dressed exceptionally well for a press man. I pulled the twins back slightly so that they were standing behind me.
“Yeah. We’re trying to get to our seats though,” I said nodding in the direction of the way we were heading.
“Right. I was just wondering why you're not wearing any leaf’s merch,” he said, nodding to what I was wearing. I uncomfortably took a step back, noticing the camera pointed at us.
“Um. I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” I answered.
“Mama, can we go.”
“Yes sweetheart.”
As I went to step around him he moved so that he was still in the way.
“I just find it surprising that you're the wife of the most popular player yet when you come to games you guys,” he paused dramatically to point to the twins before continuing, “aren’t dressed to support the team.”
“What we do is none of your concern. I also suggest that you stop recording my children without my consent,” I told him sternly. “Now please move out of my way before I get security to escort you out,” I continued holding back tears. One of the cons to pregnancy, being overly emotional. Thankfully the reporter stepped out of the way and I quickly pulled the twins along with me to the family box.
“Mama are you okay,” Noah asked noticing that I had started crying.
“I’m fine bud. Just emotional.”
“Emoional?” He asked butchering the word.
“Yeah. I have a lot of feelings and that’s okay. It’s okay to be emotional,” I explained.
“Okay Mama,” he said and then turned to face his brother so they could start talking.
“Hey,” Allyssa the leafs PR said walking into the box. I gave her a wave before turning back to the twins.
“Are you okay? I saw Steve talking to you,” she asked walking over to me and sitting down in a seat away. She set her laptop on the table in front of her.
“I just can’t believe the nerve of some of the reporters,” I answered truthfully tucking my hair behind my ear.
“What was he saying to you?”
“He was upset I wasn’t wearing any Leaf’s merch.”
“Oh my god that’s ridiculous,” she said scowling at her laptop. I just shrugged my shoulders as I turned back to the twins.
“Mama look at Papa skate,” Noah said looking down at the ice in awe. Kai was sitting next to Noah his leg anxiously bouncing. I reached out to steady his leg.
“Everything okay buddy?” I asked softly but loud enough to be heard over the crowed roaring around us.
“Yeah I just want them to win,” he grinned. I let out a laugh shaking my head. It was only the first period and he was already this anxious.
The game went by quickly with a win 4-2 and we made our way out of the box and into the family waiting room.
“Hey,” Auston said walking up to us still in his gear.
“Hi babe,” I said smiling. He leaned into my space and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. When he pulled away my nose scrunched up at the smell radiating off of him.
“You guys have fun?” Auston asked crouching down to be the twins height.
“So much fun!” Noah smiled happily.
“Yeah.” Kai responded softly.
“But mommy cried.” I let out a soft gasp as I looked over to him but Auston was already looking to me concerned.
“I’m fine,” I told him quickly. When he looked disbelieving I let out a huff.
“Some reporter had some comments I didn’t appreciate but were fine,” I repeated. He nodded with a frown on his face.
“He was recording though,” I admitted.
“Who was it?” he asked a deeper frown growing on his face.
“I’m not sure, he was wearing a Leafs crewneck. That’s all I remember.”
“Alright. Well I have to do press tonight so I’ll be home later,” he said standing up from his kneeled position.
“Alright. Boys say goodbye to Papa. Will see him later,” I told them.
“Bye Papa,” they both said.
—---
I let out a deep sigh as I laid down in bed. I had just finished putting the twins to bed and I was now loading up the post game interviews while I waited for Auston to come home. Auston’s interview had already been uploaded so I clicked on it to watch.
It was like any normal interview up until the last minute of the five minute video. A reporter was asking a question and I could immediately see the anger take over Auston’s face as he listened to the reporter speak.
“I just want to say before I answer your question that I find it extremely disrespectful for you to even be talking to me right now. You made my family feel unsafe today and uncomfortable to be here. You had absolutely no right to record my children without the permission of Amelia or I and absolutely no right to comment on what my wife was wearing. As for your question. No I don’t think fan’s comments have any say on how I play.”
I let out a soft gasp before rewinding to listen to him say it again. Just as I was replaying it for the forth time Auston walked into the room still dressed in his suit.
“Hi baby,” he said walking over and kneeling next to the bed.
“Hi.”
“No not you, my little one,” he said, reaching out to rub his hand over my belly. I relaxed at his touch and locked my phone, setting it down next to me on the bed.
“You didn’t have to say that to the reporter,” I said, breaking the silence after a moment.
“Yes I did. He had no right to say those things to you or video you guys. I talked to him after and made him delete the footage. I let out a relieved sigh at that. It wasn’t like we hid the boys from the world. I was constantly posting videos and stories of them and so was Auston but having someone record us without our permission had rubbed me in the wrong way.
“I love you,” i said pulling him up so that he could kiss me. He deepened the kiss sliding his hands from my stomach to cup my ass as he climmbed on top of me. He let out a soft groan as he pulled away.
“I gotta shower,” he said looking sad.
“Yeah you stink,” I agreed pushing his chest lightly. He swatted at my hand before climbing off of me and starting to strip down to his boxers.
“I’ll be back,” he announced before making his way into the bathroom to shower. It didn’t last long and not even ten minutes later Auston was walking out in just his towel. He pulled on some boxers before making his way out of the room to do his routine check on the boys. He returned about ten minutes later.
“They weren’t sleeping but they said theyd go to bed now.”
I wasn’t really surprised if the twins new Papa wasn’t going to be too late they would stay up until he got home. It was a habit I desperately tried to kick but was unable to do so.
Auston climbed into bed before pulling me into his arms. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead as he rubbed his hand up and down my back. I had turned my body towards him so that I was more comfotbale.
“Your bump is starting to show,” he said. I could hear the grin in his voice.
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kisskissbanggang · 4 years ago
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Death Warmed Up
[<15Min Read/~4K Words - Coffee Shop Au - Felix x Neutral Death!Reader - Fluff, Minor Angst - Dogs, Death, Coffee]
[Originally slated for the skzwriternet Cozy Collab, but here it is! Hope you enjoy.]
Nets: @skzwriternet​ @kwritersworld​
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You stared at the assignment you had found on your desk. This was late… by two years?
The notion was fully ludicrous. Even with a file like this, there was no way that it could reasonably have been delayed by two whole years. Then again, the idea of getting saddled with an interesting case intrigued you. It sort of felt fancy — important, even — to see this in your inbox when you sat at your desk. You flicked through the file again. Felix Lee, 21 years old: living on Borrowed Time since he was 19.
You hadn’t been an Arbiter very long, and you mulled over just how little Borrowed Time you’d really seen since your appointment. There was the tiny old grandmother — Jane, you thought her name was — a matriarch of her household and a staple of her community, but even then her Arbiter, Bill, could only find her a year from scraping together everything he could. He had told you all that when he did finally meet her at the end, he was in tears along with all her family, and she was the only one smiling. The fact that this kid could be afforded two years was a feat in and of itself, to a point that you were morbidly curious who the previous Arbiters were. The most recent was Jisung, a surprising name to find. Jisung was nice, he liked to maintain how he looked when he died in the mid-nineties, nose ring and flannel and all… and he currently worked as a first-level Arbiter, watching day-to-day activities between humans and the world around them. When you got transferred into the department you’d had no idea that he used to be up on this level. The previous Arbiter’s name was Chan: a name you didn’t recognize and had never heard around the office. Whatever had happened, you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to get distracted by excuses. You needed to see for yourself.
◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇
It was a surprisingly balmy autumn afternoon when you finally found the cafe. Even with all the extra instincts and wherewithal you were afforded by your position, you still had to search around for the little coffee bar, a humble cubby hidden away in an alley off a side street in the bustling city. Some trees lined the sidewalk outside and the orange leaves managed to drift on by, and there was a young man sweeping them off the stoop of the cafe before he turned to go back inside. You opened your portfolio and pulled out your file again. You examined it closely. Could that have been him? The guy now cleaning up behind the bar? There was no way that was him. You stepped closer down the alley.
Thankfully, even if the young man in the window did look up, he wouldn’t see you in this plane you were currently occupying. Your body was only as real as your conscious willed it considering you were already dead, and right now you were perfectly content watching the barista bustling about behind the counter. A little old man with smart half-moon glasses waved from where he sat in his cracked leather armchair by a tall bookshelf, getting his attention.
“Felix, dear, could you top me off?”
Well, there, then. This was the guy.
He didn’t seem so special.
Felix didn’t look like his picture. That was your first hint. The photo was always a snapshot of the client at the time the referral was made to Arbitration, and he looked much worse for wear a couple years ago, laying in a hospital bed and hooked up to a spiderweb of tubes. Here, now, Felix stood tall and healthy, slim but fit under his apron, a modest but present definition in his arms showing through the rolled sleeves of his shirt as he set about making a new drink for the tottering old man. A spray of freckles adorned his dainty nose and rested among the golden glow of his cheeks, and he even had a little satisfied smile curling at his lip as he got the foam just right on the old man’s coffee.
You still didn’t see what all the fuss was about.
A dog ran up to Felix behind the counter, a panting golden retriever asking for pats, and your heart begrudgingly melted. In fact, there were even more dogs you hadn’t noticed. A small scotty rested at the feet of the old man. A tiny chihuahua slept in a basket on the counter that barely roused as Felix stepped over to add the drink to the man’s tab. A sleek sheepdog sat up from behind the counter to let him by, and a basset hound raised its head from where it sat in another chair when Felix set the warm cup on a small table by his elderly customer. Felix pet the dogs in a round and wiped up a string of drool from the basset with the corner of his apron before he returned to the counter and washed his hands.
Fine, so Felix was good with dogs.
But being good with dogs didn’t automatically mean you were entitled to Borrowed Time.
◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇
You returned with gusto the next day, ready to confront this supposedly difficult client. Your getup was simple, fully materialized now and dressed as a package courier. This form was common when working on this plane, even popular with other people in your department like Jisung, the previous Arbiter, who actually did use to deliver packages back before he died. It made sense in getting a feel for who a client really was. This was a blue collar worker that people were used to seeing and seeing through, and could really show who a person could be, given the right situation. And you really wanted to see who Felix could be.
You strolled into the cafe, large box in hand with a clipboard sitting on top and a pen tucked behind your ear. Felix perked up when you let it thunk onto the counter, the weight taking care of the poignancy.
“Delivery,” you boredly greeted. “Can you sign for this?”
“Er,” Felix stared — at you, the box, and back at you, “what is it? I wasn’t expecting anything.”
You laughed out loud as you held out your pen to him. “I don’t know, I’m just delivering it. Can you sign for this, please?”
Felix bit at his lip before he grabbed the proffered pen and signed, and you looked amused as you stood and watched him slice open the box with a pair of scissors from under the counter. What surprised you was that this old trick — this misdelivered box of assorted mugs and pens — only made Felix laugh.
“I didn’t order these!”
“That’s too bad,” you shrugged sympathetically. Admittedly, his smooth and deep voice was pleasantly unexpected, catching you off guard. “They’re addressed here and you signed for them.”
Felix’s eyes widened as he plucked out a piece of paper. “There’s an invoice?! With a balance on it?!”
But he still only laughed. You were a bit stumped.
“I guess I’ll pay this before I return it,” Felix shrugged. “I’d hate for someone to get a late bill on a mistake like this.”
You were puzzled, to say the least, as you turned to leave, but then Felix stopped you.
“Hey!” He called. “I feel bad that you had to come all the way here just for this to not be mine. Can’t I at least get you a drink on the house? Do you like dogs?”
The most astounding thing of all was you felt yourself heat up at his offer. This was well and truly bizarre, but you needed to check this out as well. There had to be fine print. You should’ve looked closer at the file.
You dumbly nodded as Felix gladly directed you over to a seat at the bar by his register. When he asked what you liked and you added a dumb shrug to your list of unintended responses, he shrugged in return and said he’d love to surprise you, then. Felix ground some beans down to a dense powder, pressed it into a puck, and pulled a couple espresso shots. You found yourself intrigued, having never seen or paid any attention to someone doing this by hand before. He steamed a small pitcher of milk until a modest head of creamy foam sat on top and carefully poured it in the center of the shots. He proudly slid the cup over to you on a saucer.
“A flat white,” he humbly presented. You silently nodded your gratitude and tried it. This was utterly confounding. The same misdelivery stunt got a shoe thrown at you by a client a few years back. You had to put the cup down as soon as you tried a sip.
“Is everything alright?” Felix worriedly asked. The fluffy lab originally sleeping on the rug in the center of the cafe got up to check on you, his wet nose leaving a slight print on your uniform pants.
“Er, yeah,” you gulped down the hot drink on your lips, “this is just really good. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”
Felix raised a hand to deny you. “Wouldn’t dream of accepting it. I’m sure you’ve been working hard all day anyway.”
“Sure have,” you stiffly lied. “Well, I can at least tip you.”
You conjured a wallet with a sizable bill inside, more than enough to cover the coffee as you quickly downed the modestly sized beverage. Felix beamed as you waved goodbye.
Fine.
So Felix was nice. So Felix was really nice. Felix was really nice, and kind, and he made good coffee.
But you’d have to try anyway. There was something in him that could convince you that he wasn’t 100% good, even though that shouldn’t have been a reason from the beginning.
◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇
You returned two nights later, but you didn’t enter the small side street. Instead, you paced in front of your parked bike out on the sidewalk, over and over again, working up the nerve. After a while, though, you knew it was time. You would goad Felix into dropping the act, into showing who he really was under all the sugar and sunshine. After making sure the sizeable package was sitting precariously on your handlebars to match the one on the back of your bike, you revved the little engine as Felix swept the stoop for the night. You barreled down the street, apparently unable to see much in front of you beyond the shoddy headlight. This was fine. This was easy. You’d done this before, and a saint of an old schoolteacher beat the snot out of you with their cane for it a while back. Felix noticed you at the last second, eyes widening comically as you reflexively honked.
You couldn’t do it.
Your finger barely squeezed the brake, but the front axle jackknifed and sent you ass over elbows onto the pavement.
Everything went white for a second and you definitely did not miss being alive in this moment, because this invariably sucked. And now Felix was there.
“It’s you!” Felix gasped and immediately offered you a hand up. “You scared the daylights out of me!”
“Uh,” you stammered and groaned, “I can say the same.” You could not wait to leave this plane and not feel the pain radiating in your hip and back. But right now, Felix was already pulling you into the cafe and fretting.
“Are you in a rush? You should at least sit down a moment.”
You sighed and let Felix seat you in a comfy chair by a heater in the small cafe, only lit by warm lamps at this time of night. The basset hound watching from a basket on the low windowsill came to sit at your feet as Felix hurriedly set about making you a hot cup of tea. He rushed over, light on his feet and pushing the warm mug into your hands. You nearly spat as you looked closer at the ceramic cup. “Is this—?”
“From that box you brought me the other day? Sure is.” Felix let the force of his belly laugh carry him into a chair beside you. “The funniest thing, really. I tried calling the phone number on that invoice and only got busy tones, and I tried looking up the business and only found dead websites. I figured I could always use pens and mugs, so now I have a supply and a funny story.”
You could crumple into dust, honestly. You set the mug on the little table by your chair, albeit a tad roughly. “I’m so sorry,” you shook your head, “but what is your deal? You’re literally the happiest person I ever met.”
Felix’s eyes pointed sharp into you. There it was.
But he wasn’t angry. He seemed embarrassed.
“Well,” he sighed, even still attempting to maintain his persistent smile, “it’s a long and tired story. I was really sick a couple years ago and I pulled through when no one thought I could.”
“I’m sorry—” you meekly interjected, but it was too late. The shine in Felix’s eye finally dulled, if only a little. You’d cracked him.
“It’s fine,” Felix reassured you. He gently patted your knee before he got back up to his feet. “You go ahead and enjoy your tea. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Of course, yeah,” you babbled as you got up and followed him anyhow, “I’m just glad I didn’t hit you.” You set the mug on the bar and sat down as he walked behind the register. The chihuahua in his basket drowsily got up and walked into your hand for pets.
“I was going to say the same,” Felix nodded tiredly with a worn smile. “It’s happened before. I guess I should put some lights up outside. A cute delivery boy almost ran me over with his bike about a year ago, too.”
“Delivery boy?” You asked starkly. Felix caught your look before falling right back into stride. His grin seemed to get its warmth back.
“Yeah,” he nodded amusedly. “He had an adorable nose ring, I remember I was terrified I almost ripped it out when he helped me up.”
Felix looked confused at the very least as you choked on your tea.
“I’m sorry,” you sputtered out. “You know I — it’s weird that — I just remembered I need to be somewhere. Thank you again, for everything.” You dug out entirely too much money for the tea and clapped it down onto the counter before grabbing your things and sprinting out the door.
◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇
Jisung looked caught as you slapped Felix’s file on his desk. “Hi,” he squeaked as you towered over him.
“What happened when you tried to crack him?”
The young Arbiter let his head drop back with a hard sigh. “You got the file? I knew he couldn’t last long.”
“You only gave him another year, you had to know this was coming.”
“He was just so—? He’s so nice, and genuine, and warm?” Jisung blathered on as he sat back up and flipped through the file. “He was never the same since what Chan did. He was the most amazing turnaround I’d ever seen.”
“So you gave him a year—“
“I didn’t.” Jisung shook his head. “Look closer at the file. I put him back in the queue for Reassessment.”
“What do you mean you—“
“Look,” Jisung insisted. He grabbed your sleeve and dragged you down the hall. “I put him back in Reassessment and was lucky to only get demoted. After what Chan did, I couldn’t bring myself to do more.”
“What are you showing me?”
“Here.”
Jisung shook out his hands and you found yourself standing beside him in a graveyard. This was a pleasant enough place to end up. The grass was neatly trimmed and there were trees and benches to sit on. The orange and red leaves scattered around looked like confetti, a graceful celebration at the end of life. Jisung stood between two headstones.
“I made the mistake of looking at what Chan did, except Felix’s family wasn’t gone yet when he had the file. They were on their way out, though. He saw that they were leaving soon, and Felix would be alone with his grandfather at his cafe. His grandfather would be all alone after losing all of them, and that would be after everything Felix would go through, getting sick and getting better and learning to live again. Chan saw a horrible ending to an awful story and put a stop to it, and he got banished for it.”
“That’s not fair though,” you shook your head, “no matter how much you or he wanted it.”
“But look at him!” Jisung reeled. “That decision made one of the brightest humans I’ve ever seen. When I put him back to Reassessment, I just spent time around him before I was called back. I suggest you do the same, no matter what you choose. I hope this helped.”
Jisung haughtily folded his arms before he vanished. You finally looked more closely at the headstones. Those years were much too close together. Your heart hung low in your gut.
◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇
Felix grinned wide when you returned to the cafe. He immediately set about making you a drink.
“I was wondering when I’d see you again.”
“You were?”
This was feeling familiar, like you were home or at a friend’s house, while you sat yourself in an easy chair and let the panting sheepdog sit between your feet so you could scratch under her chin.
“Yeah!” Felix brightly called over. “Because you asked why I’m like this, I sort of only gave you half an answer.”
“I’m sorry again,” you lamented.
“It’s fine,” Felix said adamantly as he set a warm mug in your hands. He gestured grandly before sitting down. “A latte. Now, I only gave you half an answer. The fact of the matter is that I spent a good while tied to tubes and machines with nothing to do and no choice in the matter. Now, all this time later, I’m just happy to be here, because I know the day after could be any day now.”
“The day after?”
Felix nodded. “When you come away from something like that, later it just feels like a day. One big day, or week, or whatever is tangible, but it definitely wasn’t forever. It feels like one big day to me. This, in the grand scheme of things, is the day after that, but the day after this, when everything actually does end— I’m expecting it. And I’m not scared, but I’m going to be enjoy my time here as much as I can.”
“You’re not scared?”
“Not anymore,” Felix shook his head in determination. “I had to cope with my own loss like everyone else was getting ready to cope with losing me. I didn’t get to have that luxury of not expecting it anymore, because I know what it looks like and I know what’s coming. To do anything else would be a disservice, so I’d rather walk into it with a clear mind and a full life.”
You thought of Bill and Jane, how she was the only one not crying at the end. It was hard to place exactly how you felt, sipping your coffee made with loving hands in this small cafe full of an inordinate amount of golden afternoon sunlight for being so hidden away from the main road. Felix fit here — cosmically, almost, in the least dramatic way you could muster.
“I’m really glad you feel that way,” you said, hoping that the added sincerity hidden behind the sentiment was felt.
The shimmer in Felix’s eyes told you it was. “I am, too. And I’m especially glad you’re back, because I like seeing you around. I don’t think I’ve given away this many free drinks since that delivery boy last year.”
“I like seeing you, too, Felix.” You finally admitted it, and it was true, even more so as Felix’s shining smile grew even more. You did like seeing Felix, and you would continue to see Felix as much as you were able, all the way to the end.
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twokinkybeans · 4 years ago
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Company Chapter 2: Yule
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Moodboard made by Kim <3
Peter goes back into the woods, pushing through cold and snow to uphold his end of the deal. What will happen during the time he and Oberon spend together?
Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of chronic/incurable illness (May’s diabetes), death (specifically Uncle Ben’s), etc. Bullying, Peter drinks like 5 cans of energy drink (within two hours, so that ain’t healthy), magic and folklore, mischief, fluff and angst. Sexual tension, growing bonds. 
Go to the Masterpost for all the teaser poems and chapters!  Read Company - Chapter 2: Yule on AO3 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Took way too long but I made it work, omg!! Am posting from a different browser now, aha! Thanks to everyone who’s already shown this fic so much love! <3 I hope you enjoy!! - Lien
... Oberon stayed true to his word. On November 4 th , Peter woke up to hearing May’s chipper humming in the kitchen. He stared at his ceiling for a while, simply listening to her sweet voice. He could hear the bacon sizzling in the pan, the smell of grease stinging the insides of his nose. A shaky breath fell from his lips as he blinked away the tears. The corners of his mouth curled up in a lopsided smile while he squeezed his eyes shut and silently thanked the Fae. It soon appeared May still had diabetes, as Oberon had said she would. She still had to watch what she ate, but whenever she needed medication of any kind, the next drawer or cupboard she opened contained exactly what she needed. Two Tylenols next to the water glasses when she had a particularly bad headache, insulin in the cutlery drawers before dinner… It was all awfully convenient, yet – strangely enough – no one questioned it. The large grocery store around the corner always seemed to have a discount running on the exact products May would need for her healthy cooking and soon enough May became energized again. Life returned to her and it suited her well. She was able to go back to work as a nurse and now, on December 21 st it was Peter’s turn to hold up his end of the deal. … “Oberon?” Peter calls out weakly. He feels so small surrounded by the tall imposing trees of the crowded forest. All is white, covered in snow, and Peter’s breath condenses in front of him, before he hides the bottom half of his face in Uncle Ben’s worn scarf. He squints, trying not to let the cold cut his skin, and wades through three feet high packs of snow. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. He barely slept last night because of his nerves and after a near-full day of colleges, he’s already quite exhausted. “Oberon?” He tries again, using his gloved hands at his mouth to concentrate the noise. Peter turns as he walks while looking around, trying to find the figure, hugging himself to keep warm. After a long time of searching, Peter sits himself down against a tree with his legs pulled up. How could he ever find Oberon like this? It’s already starting to get dark. His eyes are still strained on the forest around him. He’s quietly frustrated with himself for not arranging a meeting point with the Fae. Maybe Oberon forgot? It’s cold. Peter’s feet have gone wet in his old sneakers and he shivers aggressively. This is no use. Freezing himself to death will do no one any good, but he also doesn’t want to leave. That would mean he didn’t hold up his end of the deal of spending time with Oberon, which will result in May losing access to her medication and newfound luck. Maybe if he- “ Puck ,” a voice whispers in Peter’s ear. The young man yelps startled and crawls away from the tree, looking up wide-eyed at Oberon, now towering over him. The Fae laughs gratuitously with his hands on his hips. When he’s done, he leans forward with a cocked head and a cheeky grin. “Found ya!” Peter scoffs amazed at the man’s mischief and scrambles to stand up. His breath is unsteady through his shivers. “Y-yeah,” he manages to push out with a grateful sigh. “You found me.” Now that Oberon gets to have a closer look at Peter, his smile falters. “You are cold.” It wasn’t even posed as a question. The Fae simply knows. It is rather obvious with Peter’s thrifted and weathered outfit. Peter is slightly stunned by the statement and his eye is drawn to the man’s body. He’s wearing an odd combination of weather appropriate and weather inappropriate attire. He is covered, but the fabric looks awfully thin. Peter nods weakly at Oberon’s comment and the Fae immediately pushes into his space, not allowing Peter to step away from him by caging the student between himself and the neighboring tree. “How long have you been searching for me?” The man’s eyes are intense, worry shaking his irises as he holds their gazes locked. “A while,” Peter says truthfully. “More than an hour.” He sucks at his teeth. “Maybe two.” Not even a second later, a flame appears between the two of them. Its warm glow envelopes Peter immediately. “I am so sorry,” the Fae confesses with twisted brows. “I was expecting you later today. Much like last time you visited. I never meant for you to go cold.” Peter blinks a few times, processing Oberon’s words before replying. “It’s okay. You found me.” A small smile creeps up on Oberon’s face. His voice is soft. Gentle. “I found you.” They stay there for a minute, simply staring at each other as their faces are illuminated by the pleasant heat of Oberon’s flames. “Would you…” Oberon’s voice trails off as he still looks into Peter’s eyes. The young man nods absentmindedly, no clue what he’s agreeing to, but it feels right, somehow… Wait. Peter coughs loudly to help himself snap out of it and he steps away from the fire. From Oberon. “Are you alright?” “Yes!” Peter yelps, startled by the crack of his own voice. “No! I mean-“ He nearly stumbles over again and it takes him a few seconds to regain his composure. “What did you want to ask?” Oberon opens his mouth and closes it again, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Did I…” He frowns and then nods. “Right, I- My house-“ he points away from them in the direction he had initially appeared to have come from. “It’s warm there.” “I shouldn’t follow you,” Peter says bluntly. He already nearly fell for whatever just happened- something that even Oberon didn’t realize he was doing, based on his reaction. “No, you’re right, you shouldn’t…” Oberon purses his lips and then makes another gesture with the hand that holds the flame. “But I do think it’s better to spend those twenty-four hours somewhere comfortable rather than out here, right?” “I think it’s safer for me if we just make a fire here,” Peter ponders out loud. The Fae’s face pulls together in discontent, glancing over Peter’s soaked pants. “No.” “No?” Peter parrots with a scoff. “You’ll freeze to death. I won’t have that.” “But-“
“And there are other Fae out there who aren’t…” Oberon looks away for a second to think his words over and sighs audibly. “…Like me.” Peter scoffs again. “Like you?” “Well-willing.” Peter frowns and pulls his head back a little. Oberon takes a deep breath and explains: “It is winter, Puck. This time of year, Fae who are part of Winter Court are particularly in their element.” He moves his flame from one hand to the other. “You should count yourself lucky no one else found you before I did.” Peter has read up on the different Courts, but didn’t expect them to be real. The Winter Court is considered to be malevolent and is often described as cruel and evil. If they are truly real, then Oberon was right. It would’ve been very bad for Peter if he had run into another Fae. Oberon breaks Peter’s train of thought. “For your sake, we have to go to my home.” Peter takes an uncertain step backwards, holding onto himself and eyeing Oberon with distrust. This might as well be a ruse to get Peter to follow him forever and that is not what he is here for. The Fae sighs agitated. “Fae cannot lie, Puck,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “I promise you that I have no ill intentions towards you and that I will not trick or harm you.” Peter’s features relax for as much as it is possible in the shivering cold. “You promise?” He wishes he sounded more confident. Oberon steps forward again, reaching out his flame-free hand for Peter to take. “I promise, with all my heart.” …
“So,” Oberon says as he rubs his hands together, squeezing the flame before giving it space again. Peter stares at the man’s feet as they walk. Where Peter wades through the snow, Oberon simply saunters on top of it, as if he weighs nothing. A thousand cheeky Lord of the Rings references lay locked in the back of Peter’s throat. He keeps them there, knowing the Fae probably has no idea what it is anyways. “How is your aunt faring?” Peter takes a bigger step, the snow becoming deeper and deeper with every travelled distance. “She’s doing well again,” Peter replies with a smile. “All thanks to you.” “Ah-ah,” Oberon tuts, glancing back at Peter over his shoulder. “Thanks to you .” The man points at Peter. The young man presses his lips on top of each other, clutching his upper arms in an attempt to keep the heat inside his coat. “If you had not gone looking for me, I would not have helped.” “I mean, yeah, but you did all the hard work.” Peter frowns, looking down at where his feet disappear in the snow. They ache with every step and he quietly hopes he gets to keep all of his toes “You could’ve said no.” The student stops and cocks his head. Oberon halts his walk as well, turning to look Peter in the eye properly. The wind picks up and it plays with Peter’s hair. He scrunches his face together at the cold air pushing against his skin. “Hard work,” Oberon scoffs, shaking his head before continuing his trek over the snow. “Subjective.” “It’s true, though!” Peter tries to rush after him, but the deep snow isn’t really working in his favor. “You, young man, need to give yourself more credit.” “Do I?” The Fae laughs out loud and spreads his arms. “We will be spending many hours together, Puck,” he chuckles, not looking back at Peter this time, but Peter can practically hear his giddiness. “I might just teach you a thing or two. Nobody knows self-love as I do.” “It’s not about-“ “How are you doing?” Oberon interrupts him, swiftly steering the conversation away. “Still cold?” “I-“ Peter pauses and purses his lips. He has no idea how far they still have to go until Oberon’s home and though there is something unsettling about the uncertainty, the Fae is disarming. Charming . Peter reminds himself that’s the whole deal about Fae. He’s supposed to make Peter feel comfortable enough to let down his guard- to slip. But he won’t. He can’t afford to lose like that. He can’t afford May to lose him, after everything they’ve been through. “Yeah. Still cold…” “And?” Oberon asks cheekily. “And what?” “Sounded like there should be an ‘and’ after that. And well, you know, something else, whatever your subconscious wanted to say.” Peter scoffs at Oberon’s bluntness and shakes his head. “Alright, fine, I didn’t sleep much last night so I’m tired.” The second the words leave his lips he grabs his mouth with his gloved hand. Why did he say that? Didn’t he literally just tell himself he shouldn’t let down his guard? “You’re… Tired?” Oberon sounds like someone just told him he won the lottery, which only fills Peter with dread. “I mean, not really-“ Peter tries, but the damage had already been done. “You’re tired.” The Fae says one more time, confirming it for himself- both of them. His tone immediately changes to something soothing and Peter isn’t sure yet if he likes it. “That’s alright. I did not expect you to stay awake for me for a full day.” “I’m not sleeping tonight.” “Sure, you won’t.” “No tricks,” Peter reminds Oberon quickly, sucking at his teeth at Oberon’s sass. “As promised.” Oberon shows Peter a kind smile. “It is alright to be wary of me, but as I said, we will be spending quite some time together. The last thing I want for you is to be uncomfortable. Neither of us would enjoy ourselves if you fear your time with me. If you need rest, I would like you to take it.” “I know, but don’t you want me to be awake?” “I asked for company, Puck.” As Oberon says it, the flame in his hand burns a little brighter. “As long as you are with me, the clock ticks. Awake- asleep, it makes no difference.” Peter gently shakes his head, glancing at the shoulder straps of his energy drink-filled backpack. “Not gonna sleep.” “We’ll see, Puck,” Oberon sighs content. “We’ll see.” … Somehow, the rest of the walk is pleasantly silent. It’s not long before a hidden cottage reveals itself among the trees. It looks about ready to fall apart, yet it’s apparently still sturdy enough to survive the dire weather conditions. Oberon opens the door and lets Peter walk in first. “This is me,” the man says shyly. Peter looks around in awe. The space is more like a workshop than a home, but it’s still cozy. Quaint. There’s a fireplace in the corner and the room is lit by a few candles. Peter nearly dares to call it romantic. “Is… Is it alright?” The Fae holds his hands together, waiting for Peter to comment on his home. Peter simply walks around the space, admiring the clutter and the little knick knacks, the herbs hanging from the ceiling and the collection of pillows and blankets on the floor near the fire. “It’s lovely,” Peter sighs breathlessly. A proud smile spreads on Oberon’s face and he immediately moves to what Peter could only describe as some kind of stove. “I’ll make some tea, to warm you up.” “Actually,” Peter interrupts, almost feeling bad about it. “I shouldn’t be taking anything from you, so I brought my own food and drinks.” The young man pivots where he stands, showing his backpack and tapping the side of it. “Well, you should know it’s not smart to refuse anything a Fae offers you.” Oberon cocks an eyebrow, smiling victoriously. “Aha!” Peter exclaims softly with a grin, raising his index finger. “You haven’t offered me anything. You just said you were going to make tea to warm me up.” “Well, I-“ “And since I have enough food and drinks with me to last 24 hours, I’ll be alright, thank you.” Peter swings the backpack off his shoulders and puts it down with a thud and a cocky smirk. “Such a smart boy,” Oberon laughs. “Then I will just make myself tea,” he pauses, eyeing Peter from the side. “While also trying to figure out how to get rid of that backpack.” “You wouldn’t dare,” Peter chuckles. Mischief sparkles dangerously in Oberon’s eyes. “Oh,” he sighs, licking his lips. “I would.” … After a little while of casual conversation and exploring the Fae’s humble home, Peter sits down at the fire. The snow on his clothes is starting to melt, so he decides to unzip his coat and take it off. The temperature here is pleasant anyways and his shoes are already drying by the fire. He shuffles a bit, quiet frustration rising in his chest when his arm gets stuck in the coat. “Hold on,” Oberon says softly, kneeling behind Peter and raising his hands. “May I help? No need to return with a favor of your own.” Peter stares forward, jaw tightened, trying to find anything untrustworthy in the Fae’s words. The frown on his face fades when he realizes there’s probably nothing wrong with what Oberon said. Probably. Peter nods carefully and twitches when he feels the Fae’s warm fingers against his neck, curling around the collar. Hiss shoulders slack and he lets himself be taken care of. Oberon also takes off Peter’s worn scarf and studies the holes in it for a few seconds. Then, he stands up swiftly, hanging the coat over his work chair, in Peter’s line of sight. Peter is startled when the man is suddenly behind him again, fingers gently caressing his shoulders. “What are you doing?” Peter whispers, trying to pretend the gentle kneading doesn’t feel like actual heaven to his stressed muscles. “I am helping,” Oberon simply replies. “You- but the coat?” Peter can feel Oberon’s grin in his neck, paired with his hot breath. It sends shivers down his spine. One hand pushes through Peter’s hair and Peter can’t help himself as he lets it fall back when the Fae’s hand has gone all the way through. “Never specified it was just about the coat.” Shit. The Fae massages a little harder, eliciting an unintentional gasp from Peter. “So tight…” Oberon whispers. Peter is slowly turning to putty. He wants to fight the attention, but he can’t help how good it feels to have his knots kneaded away. “So tired…” “Mm…” Peter’s head lolls forward and the sudden weight he has to catch has his eyes fly wide open. He gasps and pulls away from Oberon’s gentle hands, panting and shaking his head. “Wha-“ The Fae exclaims surprised. “You said no tricks!” Peter calls out offended. He then scrambles to snatch his backpack and clutch it to his chest, wrapping his legs around it as well. “You promised!” Oberon’s face drops. Peter expected him to be frustrated that his evil plan didn’t work out, but instead, he spots fear. “I didn’t mean to-“ “You did! You were-“ Peter pauses to wave one hand haphazardly in Oberon’s direction. “-doing something to me.” “…Giving you a back rub?” Peter opens his mouth to give Oberon a snarky reply, but nothing comes out. He presses his lips together again and frowns with a pout. “I cannot lie, Puck, I can guarantee you that I used no magic.” “But…” The student looks around the house, searching for answers. “Maybe you did something else?” “I did not.” “No… No herbs? In the air?” Peter sounds uncertain and based on Oberon’s loud laughter, the scene has become rather amusing. “Are you hearing yourself?” Peter immediately makes himself smaller, embarrassed. “No, Puck, I assure you; all I want for you is to be comfortable. You are obviously exhausted. I am trying to help you unwind.” The Fae stands up to go back to his stove, where the water he put on is nearly boiling. He grabs a pot from the counter and fills it with the water. “As promised-“ He looks up at the dried herbs on the ceiling and takes bits from a few, smelling them before tossing them in the pot as well. “-no magic. No tricks. It’s just you and me here.” “Then why did you seem so happy when I told you I was tired?” Peter shuffles where he sits, slowly relaxing his muscles again, but still eyeing the Fae – who now walks back to where Peter sat earlier to sit down himself – cautiously. “Because I am weird and find sleeping humans fascinating, next question.” Oberon obviously doesn’t want to linger on the subject, which makes Peter want to ask further all the more. “Elaborate,” he says simply. Oberon scoffs, placing the pot down in front of him on the small table. “Okay, then,” Oberon sighs deep and turns to face Peter. Their gazes lock and the Fae rolls his shoulders before continuing. “Your face. 42 muscles, right?” “Right.” “They’re engaged and stressed. You tighten them for all of your expressions, for when you speak…” It’s quiet for a second as he ponders his next words. He uses his hands to enunciate. “Your smiles and your tears are all accompanied by the use of your muscles.” The Fae repositions himself where he sits, crossing his legs and leaning in slightly. “When humans sleep, they lose all tension. They relax and drop their masks.” “You think I wear a mask when I’m with you?” “You wear worry. I wish for it to fade.” Oberon cocks his head the other way, his expression is soft and kind. “It fades when you sleep.” “You’re saying it as if you don’t sleep.” “Fae do not sleep. Well,” Oberon pauses and sucks at his teeth, nodding left and right as he looks up. “Not like humans. We can sleep and we do, but we don’t need it like humans do.” “So…” Peter looks down at his backpack, pressing his chin into it. “You want to watch me sleep?” He scoffs softly, but smiles. “That’s kinda creepy.” “Hey, I already said I’m weird.” Oberon shrugs casually and pours himself a cup of herb-infused tea. “You are very pretty, Puck.” The compliment catches Peter off guard and it has him sit up a little straighter. “Last time we met, when you cried, all I wanted was for your sorrow to leave. It is why I agreed on our deal- why I suggested company.” He puts the pot back down and gently nudges it away from him. He curls his fingers around the cup, holding it tightly. “I am a lonely man and you are a kid in dire need of some time to let go.” Peter’s shoulders relax again and he looks down, now awfully aware of the frown on his face. A frown Oberon just said he wants gone. “Lonely…” Peter mutters before looking back up at the Fae again. “You said there are others like you out there? Don’t you spend time with them?” Oberon immediately averts his gaze and takes another sip from his tea. “No.” He doesn’t say anything else, which naturally causes Peter’s curiosity to grow. “Why not?” Peter leans in slightly, placing his backpack next to him and scooting a little closer. “That is not important.” “Mmmmmmmmmmmm-it kind of is,” Peter says cheekily. Oberon pulls a face and cocks his head. “How so?” “Well, if you and I are – and I quote – ‘spending a lot of time together,’ then I think it’ll benefit both of us if we’re honest with each other?” Oberon immediately grins. “Then how about you start by telling me your name?” “Ha-ha,” Peter laughs sarcastically. “I meant it as in; you know all about me after last time, it’s only fair I get to know you too.” “I will tell you Puck,” Oberon sighs. “Just… Not yet. Not now.” The sparkle in his eyes surprisingly returns. “Besides, you are infinitely more interesting.” Peter scoffs. “Am not.” “Are too.” “How old are you?”
“Older than you think I am.” … By the time Peter’s clothes have finally dried, he is laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. It kind of feels like he’s floating, surrounded by all the pillows and blankets. He’s comfortable and warm, yet also buzzing with his fourth can of Monster. He’s been chugging them one after another and part of him regrets raising his blood pressure and heart rate like this. Peter’s hands are folded into one another, resting on his stomach as he blinks in an attempt to keep his mind straight. Colors slowly fade together and the room seems to be vibrating. He can hear the beat of his heart thrumming between his ears and an occasional twitch prevents him from getting too comfortable. Oberon has left Peter to do some chores in and around the room. They talked for a few hours now and the man seems to understand Peter’s social battery has drained. Peter’s almost surprised how easily their conversations came when he let down his guard a little. Oberon seemed to stay true to his word and refrained from pulling any tricks. Now, he shuffles around the space, letting Peter alone with his thoughts. They have to stick together for the deal to work out, though. It’s not long before Peter swallows and closes his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. Maybe starting that fifth can was a mistake. The room spins, even when his eyes are shut. He mumbles and his embarrassment about the situation makes him unsure if he wants Oberon to hear it. “I’m gonna-“ He can’t even finish his sentence before rolling over and catching himself, pulling up to hurl. Oberon is immediately at his side, offering a bucket for Peter to spill into. “There, there…” Oberon says softly, helping Peter through it by gently placing his hand on Peter’s head. “Was already wondering when your body would reject that chemical sugar bomb.” Peter squeezes his eyes shut and hides his face in the bucket to prevent Oberon from seeing his embarrassed red cheeks. He takes a minute to breathe before coming back up. He glances at his left and spots a wet cloth. He stares at it for a little bit, unsure of whether or not he can touch it. The Fae read his mind. “Take it. The water on it is warm.” Peter scoffs into the bucket in an attempt to conceal another gag. “What’s in it, chloroform?” Oberon chuckles above him. “If I really wanted you to sleep, you would’ve been out hours ago, Puck.” Peter smiles and shakes his head, but he does move to grab the fabric and clean his mouth. It takes a minute before Peter’s head is cleared again. He takes a shaky breath and turns to be met with Oberon’s intense stare. The Fae is leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and hiding his mouth behind his hands to hold his head up. Peter raises his eyes questioningly, to which Oberon responds with a deep sigh as he sits up straight again. “What do I need to do to gain your trust?” Peter immediately looks away again, pressing his lips on top of each other and shaking his head slightly. “Dunno.” “Alright, alright,” Oberon says as he raises his hands and shuffles where he sits. “Remember that promise I made? The one where I said I wouldn’t trick you?” Peter’s eyes flick back and forth between the fire and Oberon. “Yeah…?” “I cannot break that promise, Puck. It would harm me if I did.” Oberon sniffs and shuffles closer to Peter, who can’t find the strength to move away. “Let me reiterate: I promise you that I have no ill intentions towards you and that I will not trick or harm you.” Oberon sucks at his teeth and raises his eyebrows. “Ever.” He glances at the fire, crackling softly, and continues. “That includes food and drink, song and dance, monologue and conversation. I will not use my magic to inflict pain on you, nor do I have any interest in your true name. I do not want it, though I may jest. I only want your company.” Sincerity drips from Oberon’s lips and it takes a second for Peter to realize he’s staring at them. At how plump they are, how soft they look… He blinks and turns away again. “I believe you.”
“Then rest.” “No.” “Argh-“ Oberon lets out a frustrated groan. “Your stubbornness is endless.” He stands up and makes his way back to the kitchen area to shuffle around some stuff. “I- I just don’t want to sleep, okay?” Peter crosses his arms and puffs. “Can’t you help me stay awake?” “Didn’t I literally just say I wouldn’t use magic on you?” Oberon shakes his head with a chuckle. Suddenly, he pauses his movement. “It is not me, is it?” His grin grows wider and he pushes his tongue into his cheek. “You don’t want to sleep because of you .” Peter’s eyes widen in shock and he opens his mouth to say something, yet nothing comes out. The giddy sparkle in Oberon’s eye returns and he rushes to kneel next to Peter again. “What is it? Do you snore? Are you embarrassed because you snore?” “Wha- no, I don’t-“ “Oh!” Oberon interrupts with his exclamation, smiling brightly with his palms on his cheeks. Then, he leans in, until Peter is sandwiched between Oberon and the wall. His excitement is endearing, yet Peter fears what Oberon will say next. “You talk.” Peter breaks eye contact and looks down, not wanting to face the Fae. “You talk,” Oberon repeats in a whisper. Luckily for Peter, Oberon notices his discomfort and moves back, returning the space to Peter. “Why does that bother you? Many people speak when they sleep.” Peter tightens his jaw, keeping his lips sealed. “I can keep filling in the blanks if you want, I am quite good at guessing. Or you can tell me yourself and we will find a way around it together.” Oberon’s remark has Peter sit up in surprise, dropping his shoulders. “Names.” This time, Oberon is taken aback. “I talk about my friends a lot. My family…” Peter pulls in his legs to hug himself. “I don’t want to give you names.” Oberon nods, pursing his lips. “I understand.” He sniffs and raises his eyebrows. “Though, I do need you to understand that empty names do not have any effect.” “But they aren’t empty, they are people I know,” Peter counters. “But I do not know them.” A corner of Oberon’s mouth curls up. “There are so many people out there with the same name,” he explains. “You could exclaim any name, Jane, John, Patricia, Peter-” Peter’s entire body stiffens at the mention of his name. He’s quietly grateful that Oberon looked the other way as he was going by his list. “As long as I don’t know the face attached, there’s no need to worry.” Peter looks at Oberon with big eyes. “Promise?” The Fae responds with a kind smile. “Promise.” Oberon moves to shuffle around some of the pillows and blankets on the floor to make a small nest. It looks comfortable, but right now Peter could go for anything, really. “Now, please,” Oberon practically begs. “Take your rest.” He gestures at the makeshift bed. “Sleep.” This time, Peter didn’t have to be told twice. He shuffles past Oberon, feeling the Fae’s eyes press into his back. When he reaches the spot, he doesn’t even lay down anymore- he just drops himself onto the soft, plush pillows. He vaguely hears Oberon speak, but his mind has already stopped processing the words as he drifts into a dreamless sleep. … Peter wakes the next day, head still groggy, to find Oberon completely focused on sewing something. The young man moves to sit up straight and then realizes what exactly Oberon is sewing. “Hey!” He exclaims, moving to grab it from Oberon. The Fae expertly twists around Peter’s hand, preventing Peter from ripping it from his grip. “That’s Uncle Ben’s, don’t touch that!” The second the words leave Peter’s lips, he grabs the bottom half of his face to shut himself up. Oberon looks at him surprised. Something sad seems to wash over the Fae- something… Knowing. “Has he passed?” Peter drops himself back into the pillows, sitting with his legs crossed. “He has,” Oberon confirms for himself. “I am sorry for your loss.” “Thanks…” Peter mumbles, eyes still strained on Oberon’s skilled fingers threading the needle through the scarf. “I don’t have a lot of him left, that scarf is important to me.” “It seemed like it would fall apart any minute. I am merely sewing up the holes,” Oberon says. “With thread made of the feathers of a Phoenix.” “Wha-“ “Now, whenever you wear it, you will not be cold, as the flames of the firebird will keep you warm.” “I thought you said no magic.” “I promised I would not use my magic on you ,” Oberon quips. “This is a Phoenix’s magic that is being interwoven with a scarf that you might happen to wear regularly.” Peter groans and lays back down again. “You finding ways around your promises isn’t going to make me trust you more.” “I did not do anything funny when you were asleep, if that’s what you mean. I watched you for a while, but you did not speak much. You mentioned May a few times, which may or may not be the month.” Oberon’s pun is paired with a wink and Peter opts to wave away the fact that Oberon literally watched him sleep. “You said ‘Ned’ once. Told them to hand you a 2x4, whatever that might mean.” Peter scoffs a laugh. “Legos,” the student mumbles. “What was that?” “It’s a standard Lego brick. You can build things with that.” “For leisure?” Oberon seems to be finishing up the scarf, tying some last knots. Peter hums in agreement. “I guess you could say Legos are toys.” Oberon smirks, but still does not look up. “I also do enjoy playing with… Toys.” His voice is a little darker, resulting in a shiver running down Peter’s spine. “The toys being humans?” Oberon eyes Peter with a grin, but before Peter can remark on how, once again, saying things like that isn’t helping Oberon’s case, Oberon stands up and hands Peter Ben’s scarf. “It is done.” Oberon’s smile is warm, as is the fabric that he places in Peter’s hand. Peter studies the scarf, amazed at how the holes- even the big ones- have been fixed completely. If Peter didn’t wear that scarf every single day, he probably wouldn’t even be able to tell where the holes used to be. The fabric seems to emit heat, as Oberon had hinted it would. Peter smiles at it and brings it to his face to smell his uncle’s persistent cologne on it. “Thank you.” His voice sounds muffled in the wool. “You’re welcome,” Oberon replies simply. “I do not need or want anything for it in return. Good afternoon, by the way.” Peter sits up straight immediately. “A-afternoon?” “You slept long and deep. I did not want to wake you; your rest seemed needed.” “How many hours do we-” “Four-ish.” The Fae stands up. “Would you like to go for a walk?” “I- yes,” Peter scrambles to stand up, giving the Fae an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I-” “You kept me company, Puck. As I said, that is all I want.” Oberon smiles. “Though, now you are awake, I intend to make the most of it.” The Fae grabs Peter’s coat and hands it to him. He then turns to the door and opens it. The ice cold wind that enters, forms goosebumps on Peter’s skin. He instinctively wraps the scarf around himself and is surprised to find that it is not just warm around his neck. The scarf warms all of him, even though he is not wearing his coat yet. He looks up at Oberon wide-eyed. The Fae smiles wide at him. “The wonder in your eyes warms me, as the scarf warms you.” He then nods at the snow-white world outside. “Shall we?” … “So,” Oberon starts after a short, silent walk. “Your uncle was important to you?” “Is,” Peter corrects him. “He and my aunt raised me to be who I am.” Peter hides his face behind the scarf as he steps through the snow. Once again, Oberon walks over it, while Peter wades through. The magic of the scarf now keeps him dry and warm, unlike yesterday. “There is no way he could ever not be important to me.” “And he passed suddenly?” Peter doesn’t necessarily enjoy the interrogation, but he feels bad for sleeping so long, so he indulges the Fae. For now. “Got shot by robbers,” he mumbles. “Sounds like there’s more to it,” Oberon adds insightfully. Peter isn’t just going to tell Oberon the whole thing, though. The man didn’t want to tell Peter about his past just yet either. “Don’t,” Peter pushes out. Oberon stops in his tracks, while Peter continues his strides. “Let me guess,” he speaks louder to have his words bridge the growing distance between the two of them. “You think it is your fault.” Now, Peter halts too. “It was,” he mutters to himself, before shaking his head and continuing his walk. “Hey!” Oberon shouts suddenly, causing Peter to turn back surprised, only to be met with a force that makes him lose his balance and fall into the snow, ass first. He yelps at the cold hitting his face and gasps for air. The Fae had thrown a snowball at him. Peter blinks once. Twice. Then, he chuckles, leaving his worries behind to grab some snow with his hands and press it together. He scrambles to stand up just in time, so he can dodge a second snowball coming his way. He nearly stumbles over, but manages to throw the ammunition he just made back at Oberon. “Gotcha!” Peter cheers victoriously when he hits his target in the chest, but quickly rushes to run away, laughing. “I will get you for that!” “You started it!” Peter yelps as he dodges yet another snow ball. They chase each other for a little bit, until they both spot the town with the train station in the distance. “Oh, we’re here?” Peter asks, looking back in the direction where they just came from. Oberon nods as he joins Peter with his hands on his hips. “That’s not actually that far.” “I made it not far.” Peter frowns at Oberon’s words and looks up at him confused. “Made it?” “My home cannot just be found by anybody. I decide where it is when.” Peter nods, understanding yet also not understanding. Fae magic is strangely convenient. Trying to figure it out might be a little too ambitious for him for now. Maybe they could talk about it more extensively next time Peter comes over. Peter inwardly scoffs when he realizes he’s already looking forward to next time. Both men are startled at Peter’s suddenly growling stomach. “You haven’t eaten yet,” Oberon states. Peter chuckles nervously as he eyes his backpack. “Only got two more energy drinks in there. Don’t think I’ll ever wanna chug a can again, though.” “That poison does not count as breakfast,” Oberon laughs. “Would you like to go into town and buy something?” “Don’t have money,” Peter says, quickly deciding to add: “On me right now.” To make it seem less suspicious. Oberon knows better, though. Peter isn’t rich at all and before yesterday he had spent all of his cash on the cans of Monster to keep himself awake. “I have money.” Oberon smiles and starts walking towards the town, before Peter could protest. “Come on, my treat.” … Not much later, both Peter and Oberon walk out of the bakery with some fresh croissants. They sit down on a bench nearby and Peter gratefully devours the food. He isn’t sure if Oberon simply eats along because he genuinely wants to, or to just be polite. Peter doesn’t really care about that, though. He’s glad he gets to eat some proper food again. He’s also glad he managed to loosen up a little more around Oberon. The man is genuinely nice and now that Peter has the promise to rely on, he can finally relax a little… “YO, PENIS PARKER!” Time stops. Peter’s eyes widen and he turns his head to where the familiar voice came from. “Parker?” He hears Oberon mumble under his breath and he wishes he could just disappear. Peter stands up quickly and nearly drops his breakfast. Oberon stays seated, simply staring at his food with a scowl on his face. “The hell are you doing here, Penis?” Flash swaggers towards them. For once, Peter is grateful for the nickname. However, his bully did manage to give his last name to Oberon. “Thought you were broke.” “Train travel is free, remember?” Peter says through gritted teeth. “Ah, right, you travel by train,” Flash scoffs. “Like all the other commoners.” He rolls his eyes at Peter’s balled fists. “Still, though. Didn’t think you’d ever go here of all places.” “Why are you here then?” “None of your fucking business, Penis.” Flash then bends sideways to look past Peter. “Who’s the dude you’re with?” “My- eh, my uncle-“ “Your uncle?” Flash’s condescending laugh rumbles through Peter’s entire being. He hasn’t seen Flash since high school, yet the asshole still manages to make him feel so small and insignificant. “You mean the dead guy?” The air is knocked out of Peter’s lungs and his voice is shaky when he speaks again. “N-No, he-“ “Quiet.” Oberon’s words cut through the conversation like a sharp knife. He stands up collected, but his eyes are icey. Nothing like what Peter has ever seen before. His warmth has disappeared. A strange cold- colder than the actual temperature outside- seems to seep from his body and he slowly passes Peter to look down at Flash. The usually so confident bully flinches at Oberon’s presence. Part of Peter is glad there is literally no one else on the streets right now. “What’s your name, kid?” Peter’s eyes widen and he immediately steps between them. “Flash- this is Flash.” Oberon’s ice shifts to Peter, who freezes where he stands. “I do not want a nickname. Not this time, Puck.” “Ugh, why is everyone in your family weird?” Flash groans and turns back. “If he even is your uncle and not some guy you’re selling your body to for cash. We all know you need it.” “ Flash ,” Oberon seethes. “If I hear one more foul word from your lips, you will regret it, I promise you.” Flash scoffs, but Peter knows it’s more than an empty threat. “Whatever, dude.” Flash turns. “I was leaving anyways. Have fun, dickwads .” Flash saunters off and Peter barely dares to look at Oberon. His eyes glow bright and blue, and the ice that Peter had only felt up until now, now grows from Oberon’s crow’s feet to his hair. The Fae raises his hand in front of him with a clenched jaw. Peter wants to stop him by grabbing his arm, but judging by how the ice also grows from the tips of his fingers and up his wrists, it looks like Peter might lose a finger or two if he tried. “Oberon?” Peter tries quietly. “I promised, didn’t I?” He growls. His voice sounds off. Dark. Peter turns his head to look at Flash, who is still walking away. He does seem to have a quickened pace, which was probably because he could also feel Oberon’s intimidating magic. “Please, don’t hurt him-“ Peter begs. Oberon shifts to look at Peter surprised, seemingly realizing what he’s doing. He takes a deep breath and drops his arm, the ice on his skin receding back to wherever it had come from. “I-“ Oberon furrows his brows. “I haven’t used that kind of magic in years-“ He seems genuinely taken aback by his own actions and Peter finally dares to move in to grab his upper arm. “It’s okay, I- I’m not scared.” “You lie,” Oberon sighs. “I don’t want to be the reason for more hurt, that’s all.” Peter takes a breath, pushing the memories of his uncle’s death away. Oberon rolls his shoulders. “I did make a promise, though. Some mischief needs to be done.” “Any… Harmless things you can do to him?” Oberon glances at Flash in the distance again, thinks for a second and then nods, grinning wide. “I have a little something in mind.” He brings up his hand again, but holds his palm up instead of down this time. “No matter the grip on the shoes you wear, may you slip, slide and trip whenever you swear.” A cold breeze carries the spell that appears in Oberon’s hand towards Flash at the other side of the road and nearly immediately he yelps and lands on his butt. Peter can’t help but chuckle and turn to face Oberon again, who looks at him with a proud smile. “That alright?” “Perfect.” … The last few hours flew by. The two men finished their croissants and continued their walk through town. They talked and talked, skillfully evading sensitive topics about their past and the odd, cold magic Oberon had conjured earlier. Peter was grateful that, even though Oberon now knew it, he didn’t mention Peter’s last name. He is still afraid it might come back to haunt him one day, but for now, at least Oberon is respectful about it. As he said, he doesn’t want Peter’s name. He just wants his company. After the twenty-four hours pass, Oberon drops him off at the train station. “Guess this is it for today, huh?” Peter says quietly, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. “I promise I’ll sleep less next time.” “Oh, dear,” Oberon laughs. “We take our promises seriously, Puck. Might be wise to set an alarm next time, then.” Peter laughs. “I will, I will. As easy as it is to just sleep through, I still don’t think it’s fair to you.” “Company, Puck,” Oberon smiles as he moves in to grab Peter’s hands and hold them to his chest. “All I want is company.” His breath is warm on Peter’s lips and Peter absentmindedly licks them. He’s surprised to find himself disappointed that he couldn’t taste the Fae. “When do I see you again?” He doesn’t dare to break eye contact with Oberon. The Fae is so close to him. It’s overwhelming, yet he can’t move away. “Imbolc,” Oberon whispers. “February 1 st .” “That’s a long wait.” “I’ll count the days.” Oberon smiles, finally stepping back from Peter to give him some space. He hopes nobody saw them standing like that. Otherwise they might’ve thought what Flash did. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he says politely with a curt nod before stepping through the gates. “Of course, Puck. Until next time!” Oberon waves. When Peter raises his hand to wave back, a woman passes in front of him. When she steps out of his field of vision, Oberon has disappeared. In the train back to New York, he mulls over everything that had happened the past twenty four hours. “I’ll count the days,” Oberon had said. “Me too, Oberon,” Peter mumbles as the train makes its way into New York City. He closes his eyes. “Me too.”
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btsmutimagines · 6 years ago
Text
Play Pretend
*I’m back... kind of... maybe?*
Requested by @penguinkyung
Word Count: 5.5k
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who the fuck allowed him to be hot while I was gone I need answers
You opened your fridge, looking for your water pitcher and pouring a glass for yourself. The cold water refreshed your dry throat and you filled another glass before placing the pitcher back. 
"You know it's rude to just enter people's homes, Kookie."
"How did you know it was me?" You shut the door, revealing your best friend, Jungkook's face. He's been clinging to you since you were two were in elementary school. He always had trouble building sandcastles and you always helped him out. He would always say that once he found out the magic you used to build the sandcastles, he would build them on his own. You guessed he never figured out that he was forgetting to add water.
"You're wearing those beat-up jeans in the middle of winter like an idiot, who else would it be?"
"It's fashion, Y/N, fashion. I know it's hard for you to fathom, I mean."
"I need to change the locks one of these days."
"I'll just knock on your door until you open up."
"You're so annoying." He smiled, grabbing your hand holding your glass to make you pour a sip in his mouth.
"Get your own glass, lazy."
"Why? You had a perfect glass in your hand." You rolled your eyes, walking past him and sitting on the couch. Jungkook sat next to you, grabbing the cushion to his left into his chest. 
"I really don't know what I was thinking when I gave you a spare key."
"I do. 'Wow, my awesome best friend can now stop by and hang out with my dull self!'"
"My awesome best friend? Who, Jimin?"
"When did you and Jimin get friendly? Has he been here too?"
"Why? Does that not make you feel special anymore or something?"
"No, what makes you say that?"  
"Aww, Kookie, don't worry you were always normal to me."
"You're worse at providing comfort than this cushion."
"Come on, Kook, you know you're always going to be special to me." He turned his head away from you, hiding the large smile that followed hearing you say that. You took a swig of water, looking at the tv and Jungkook fumbling with your cushion. He would occasionally voice over some of the characters, you joined him and the two of you chuckled to yourselves.
"Do you still have that dude’s Netflix password?”
"Yeah, why?”
“I need to catch up on Yu-gi-oh.”
“Seriously, this is the third time this month. You know he might catch on that I still have his password with your weird anime choices.”
“Y/N, you know how legendary Yu-gi-oh is? How it paved the way for card games- “
“Didn’t you say the same thing about Pokemon?”
“Yeah.”
“And Bleach?”
“Yes.”
“And Soul Eater?”
“I’m standing by my words, Y/N.”
“If I get kicked out this account, you’re paying for a new one.”
“Don’t be such a worrywart, that will never happen.” So, he said.
You gave in, Jungkook binging the show while you went to bed. He would occasionally sing along to the openings, his melodic voice oddly soothing despite the lyrics.
He was asleep on your couch, clinging to a cushion and his feet sticking out. You noticed him shivering, making you rush to your linen closet to cover him with a blanket.
“You’re something else, Kook.”
You turned off the tv before walking into the kitchen to grab a snack. Your warm bed welcomed you with open arms as you slipped under the covers, enjoying your snack before falling asleep again.
“So, um. I got good news and bad news.”
You dropped your bag on the ground, seeing Jungkook sitting on your couch. It was after work, you really wanted to soak in your lavender bath salts and relax with a glass of wine.
“Is the good news that you’ll start calling when you come over? Or that you’re giving a Netflix subscription for a year? Or-”
“No, but something even better than that.”
“What is it?”
“I scored a hot date with this girl-”
“How is that good news?”
“I said I had good news, I didn’t say it was good news for you, sweetheart.”
“So, you came to brag about your love life?”
“A little bit I need your help.”
“Me? What’s in it for me?”
“Aren’t we best friends? Don’t best friends do stuff for each other because they care about each other?”
“Jungkook, you.” You couldn’t finish your sentence, looking at the shit eating grin on his face. This kid has his way with words, you had to admit.
“I need to practice the perfect date and who’s more opinionated than you, Y/N?”
“I don’t know whether to be offended or pleased.”
“Look, I only know places that just lead to me getting some, but this girl is different, I want it to be special and shit. She deserves a nice date, not some hump and dump type of date.”
“If I can get past the way you just said that, it’s kind of sounds romantic? And I thought the most romantic thing you would ever do was offer a girl a drink after sleeping with her.”
“It’s called aftercare, Y/N. How do you think I keep them coming back besides for the mind-blowing-?”
“I don’t think you can last an hour without mentioning your dick. Let alone a whole date with a girl.” You went into your room, wanting to change out of your work clothes and shutting the door,
“Wait, Y/N.” Jungkook was stopped by your door, you sighing as you slipped off your socks. You changed, putting your work clothes away from opening the door to Jungkook standing in front of you.
“Look, I’m serious. Can you teach me how to properly date?”
“Are you going to pay for everything?”
“Um, yeah, I guess.”
“Are you sure you can behave?”
“I promise, just say yes.” It was odd seeing Jungkook so serious and desperate about something of this subject, Jungkook was more into hookups, video games and anime. A normal young man, you could say but he’s never been that serious about a girl like this. You’ve seen him date a girl for a few months at a time but rebound quickly. Once, he broke up with a girl to only be seen with another girl a few hours later.
“I’ll help you. When is the little date you planned?”
“Uh, next Saturday.”
“A week, huh? When do we start?”
“Is this a job interview? I’ll just call you.”
“Not every girl likes spontaneity, Kook.”
“Get used to it.” You rolled your eyes, it hasn’t even been five minutes and you’re already regretting agreeing to go on pretend dates with someone as infuriating and annoying as Jungkook.
“Jungkook, what was the bad news?”
“Thought you would forget about that.”
“I’m not simpleminded like you.”
“I almost don’t want to tell you.”
“Jungkook.”
“Fine, it was that you would have no choice but agree to my proposition.”
“That’s bad news?”
“Yeah, you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”
“Oh, great.”
“Oh, and the guy kicked us out of the Netflix account.”
You sulked, sitting in Jungkook’s car and he sighed as he shut off the car.
“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t even get to finish Black Mirror, I was this close to finishing it too.”
“Isn’t that the show where some dude has to fuck a pig? Didn’t know you were into those kinds of things, Y/N.”
“Why did I agree to this?”
“Come on, stop sulking and let’s start this dating stuff.”
“How romantic.” You got out of the car, walking next to Jungkook as you entered the building. Jungkook stuck his arm out, you looked at him confused before he looked at you annoyed.
“Your coat, stupid.” You tossed your coat over his head before walking over to the security guard checking IDs. Jungkook joined you as you approached the front desk, the receptionist looking at the two of you.
“Brought your girlfriend this time, I see.”
“Yeah.” He’s been here before?
“I hope you two enjoy.” Jungkook grabbed your wrist, pulling into the back room and you followed him.
“Jungkook, what is this place?”
“Take a look for yourself.” You two entered what seemed to be an arcade, multiple games filled the large room with a bar to your left. There were a few people in there already, but it wasn’t intimidating.
“Was this an excuse to just play games without having to go to your house?”
“I thought dates were supposed to be fun, not boring like eating at a restaurant.”
“Having a nice dinner is not boring.”
“Whatever, you talk too much, come on.” Jungkook took your wrist again, dragging you to what looked at Mario Kart, a mischievous smirk creeping on your face. You’re going to cream him at this.
“You’re right, Jungkook. This is going to be fun.”
“I know that look in your eyes, don’t cry on my shoulder too much when I beat you too much.”
“Those are big words, Kookie. Hope they taste good when you have to eat them.” Two seats opened next to each other, you and Jungkook quickly sitting down and you two picked a track.
You lucked out with the items you got, hearing Jungkook curse under his breath and you smiled devilishly.
“Good luck, Kookie, I think you’ll need it.”
You easily beat him in a landslide, Jungkook wanting a rematch only face the same result of you winning over him every time. A crowd began to form around the two of you as Jungkook cursed after losing his eleventh race to you.
“I swear to god, are you cheating or something?”
“Jungkook, just admit you’re not on my level.”
“Never, air hockey now.”
“You’re on.” He raced you to the air hockey table and inserted some coins and the table lit up.
Jungkook was a lot better at air hockey than you played him last, then he was average at the game. You two were on your last lives, both of you eager to beat the other. You had the puck, trying to knock it into his goal and he blocked it.
“You got to do better than that.”
“The game isn’t over yet.”
“Give up and it will be.” He tried to distract you, but you blocked his shot. You thought about the best way to win this game, knowing that a crazy trick isn’t enough to beat Jungkook’s reflexes and a direct shot would be a waste. Maybe speed is something that he can’t beat.
You angled your shot, appearing to try a direct shot and Jungkook scoffed.
“You know better than that, sweetheart.”
“Then you don’t know me well enough, Kookie.” You hit the puck as hard as you could, hoping the speed would be enough to get past Jungkook and you were right. Kind of.
Instead of the puck entering his goal, it found its home in Jungkook’s crotch. Or in his words:
“My fucking dick, shit.”
“Jungkook, there are kids around.”
“I won’t be able to have any kids around with your psycho trick shots.” You walked over to him, part of you wanted to laugh at his dramatics and another part slightly worried that you hurt him that bad with a rubber puck.
“It’s not that bad, is it?”
“No, but this makes it better.” He plucked the puck off the ground and took a direct shot into your goal, winning the game.
“You cheated!”
“You left your side, I didn’t do anything.”
“Faking that you got hit in the dick isn’t anything?”
“But you did hit me in the dick, I only over exaggerated the damage, sweetheart.”
“Best 2 out of 3 and looks like it’s my turn to pick what’s up next.”
“Give me your worst.” You looked around the room, seeing anything that you would have a clear advantage over Jungkook in before you spotted it.
“Say, Kookie, how about a game of basketball?”
“Bring it.”
You took off your seatbelt, Jungkook still sulking after he turned off his car.
“Jungkook, wasn’t that fun?”
“No.”
“Gosh, you’re such a baby, it’s hard to believe that you’re 22 years old.”
“Even that little girl next to you got more than me.”
“It was just a game, Kook.”
“I still want a rematch.”
“Why did I believe you when you said you would behave? This fake date is going sour.”
“I guess the arcade isn’t romantic, huh.”
“It could be but you’re too competitive for your own good.”
“What can I say, I’m a master at all trades.”
“Pretty sure that’s not the saying.”
“Well, I’m good at everything.”
“Would it kill you to not boast?”
“Maybe.”
“Goodbye, Jungkook.”
“Wait.” He grabbed your hand, the sensation making you feel weird. Was his hand always this large and warm?
“What?”
“Pack a swimsuit.”
“Why-”
“Just do it.” He let go of your hand, you pull your arm back to your side and Jungkook shutting your door from the inside. He drove off, leaving you on the sidewalk and you huffed.
What a bossy brat.
You were in the middle of packing a bag, looking for some snacks when you heard your door crack open.
“Yo are you done?” He walked into the kitchen, standing next to you while you were on top of you
“You shouldn’t rush a lady, Jungkook.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I meet one.”
“The things I have to put up with.”
“I’ll behave… starting now.” You rolled your eyes; does he enjoy purposely dancing on your last nerve?
He grabbed some snacks for you, packing them in your bag for you before zipping it up. He picked up your bag, you hop off the counter and grabbing your keys before locking your apartment.
“So, which beach are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Surprise? You’re not good at that kind of stuff.”
“I came prepared. Close your eyes.”
“Jungkook. What are you-”
“Trust me.” You closed your eyes, Jungkook placing a blindfold on you. He took your hand, leading you to the stairs and he stopped.
“Get on my back.”
“Jungkook, I can walk to the car without the blindfold. We haven’t started driving.”
“Doesn’t the suspense make it better?”
“How so? I’m not too sure if you’re not planning to murder me.”
“Wouldn’t I knock you out first?”
“Have you thought about this before?”
“Of course not, why would I? Don’t answer that and just get on.” He led your hand to his shoulder, you get behind him. He hoisted you up, you hold onto him as he walked you to his car.
His scent travelled to your nose, the smell of coconut shampoo and vanilla came to mind as the steady sound of his steps relaxed you a little.
“Alright, I’m letting you down.”
“It won’t be the first time.”
“You make it hard to be nice.”
“Sorry, it’s a reflex. I’ll play nice.” He snorted, you resist the urge to hit him and taking a seat with his help. You heard him quickly sit in the driver’s seat before driving to the secret place he wanted to show you.
“I’m still wondering why you told me to pack a swimsuit if we’re just going to a regular beach.”
“It’s not the beach that we always go to. It’s somewhere else.”
“This surprise thing better be worth it; my anxiety is through the roof.”
“I’m not going to kill you, who else is going to let me watch Netflix for free?”
“No one else because you let the dude catch on to us.”
“I figured out the password, we’re back in.”
“How did you?”
“I’m more than just beauty and brawn.”
“Good because there was something new with Black Mirror and I was so close to creating a subscription.”
“Aren’t you forgetting to say something?”
“Oh, I’m restricting your Netflix privileges. We got caught once, can’t get caught twice.”
“Why do I bother?”
“Because I’m worth it?”
“You’re something else.” The conversation continued, you become more at ease with the blindfold with Jungkook’s voice distracting you.
“We’re almost there.” You felt his hand reach for your seatbelt, his fingers haphazardly touching you and you shivered.
“Is it cold? Should have told you to wear warm clothes.”
“You look perfect the way you are though,” Jungkook said under his breath, the words barely audible to you.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Let me help you out.” He reached for your hand, you hold onto him as you two walked to wherever he was leading you.
“Jungkook.”
“Almost there, I promise.”
“You said that 5 minutes ago.”
“I mean it this time.” You sighed, Jungkook continuing to walk with you. Finally, he stopped, and you stood still.
“Alright, I’m taking your blindfold off now.” He took off, you instantly shocked by what your eyes laid upon. It was a grotto; the dim light revealed the shimmering water and grey rock ceiling.
“How did you find this place?”
“Well, my crush likes the beach, but I figured the beach isn’t as exciting as this grotto. How did I do this time?”
“Better. It’s cute that you remember little details about her when you picked this place. I’m kind of jealous of her, this was supposed to be for her eyes only, right?”
“So, you’re jealous?”
“Is that all you heard?” You deadpanned, he really goes from cute to annoying in a few seconds flat.
“Well, I had to show you first, so it’ll be perfect for her. That’s the only reason why we’re here.”
“I know.”
“Now turn around, or not, I don’t mind stripping for you.”
“Thanks for the gross mental image.”
“Anytime.” You turned around, quickly taking off your clothes to reveal the swimsuit you wore underneath.
“Wow.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I mean you don’t look horrible.”
“Is it hard to say something nice?”
“It feels weird to say that it looks good on you, okay.” He spat out, you smirking as he looked away.
“Don’t be shy, Kookie.”
“Shut it.”
“Tsk tsk, didn’t you say you would behave?” He started to walk towards you, his feet dragging along.
“What are you doing?” He kept coming closer, causing you to back away from him. The expressionless look on his face made your heart race, what was he thinking?
The thought didn’t occur to you until you backed yourself into the water. The plunge swarmed you with the cool temperatures of the water and Jungkook’s laughter echoed in the grotto.
“Oh, you think this is funny?”
“A little bit.” You grabbed his ankle, pulling him into the water and he fell in with a splash. He came up, shaking like a wet dog and hitting you with water.
“Hey!”
“You pulled me in.”
“I didn’t think you would shake like a wet dog.”
“Sorry for wanting to breathe.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Wow.” You smiled, the expression only lasting a few seconds before Jungkook splashed you with water.
“That’s how you want to play, huh?” You splashed him back, him retaliating and the two of you continued like this until you were both breathing heavily.
“Truce?”
“Truce.” You sat up on the rocks, hugging your knees when Jungkook joined you.
“What is she like?”
“Who?”
“Your crush, idiot. What is she like?”
“She’s crass, sarcastic, hit me a lot-”
“Is this your way for telling me you’re a masochist? She doesn’t sound that great.”
“I wasn’t finished, child. She’s also kind, thoughtful, she got her walls built up to hide that side of her. Sometimes I wish she would show that side of her more, it’s more beautiful than she normally is.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t mean to blab about her that much, I just really like her.”
“Yeah, you’re crazy enough to ask me for help about her.”
“You’re the only one dumb enough to agree.”
“You know what-”
“What?” You glared at him, Jungkook having a similar expression and you pinched his cheek. He did the same, the pain from the pinch sent tingles down your spine.
“Let go.”
“You first, Jungkook.”
“You let go first, Y/N.”
“On the count of three?”
“Ya. We’re not 5, let go!”
“Fine.” You let go, him following suit and you pouted while rubbing your cheek.
“Why are your cheeks so red? Did I pinch that hard?”
“Yeah, with your claws for hands.”
“I didn’t dig my nails into your cheeks, now they’re pink.”
“Quit staring at my cheeks, weirdo.”
“Why are you getting so snippy about your cheeks?”
“I’m going to go get towels.” He got up, leaving you to your vices and you scoffed. You stepped into the water again, going under to scare Jungkook.
You heard him coming back, dunking your head back under until he was close enough for you to pop up.
“Boo!” He barely flinched, you had your hair covering your face and he sighed loudly.
“The only scary thing about you is how you look when you get out of bed.”
“You can’t just pretend?” You got out of the water, standing in front of him.
“No can do, sweetheart. Don’t girls appreciate honesty or some shit?”
“Yes, but you can still play along, dude.”
“Here.” He put the towel over your head, drying it for you.
“You don’t have to.”
“Just stay still. There.” You moved the towel to your shoulders, blowing some hair out of your face.
“Thanks.”
“What was that?”
“I. Said. Thanks. You. Ass.”
“I don’t think you said that the first time.”
“How would you know? You didn’t hear me the first time, right?”
“Touché.”
“So, what’s next, Mr Romantic?”
“Dinner.”
“When did ice cream qualify as dinner?”
“They serve burgers too.”
“Jungkook.”
“Y/N. You like ice cream.”
“But I’m not her.”
“I wouldn’t date a girl that doesn’t like ice cream.”
“That isn’t the point, this date was perfect until this.”
“Not everything is perfect unlike me.”
“Did you really need to add in the self gloat?”
“Force of habit. Think about it like this, it gives me time to get to know her plus I doubt she would wear something fancy enough for a restaurant. I mean look at you.” You were back in normal clothes, a simple t-shirt and shorts. Jungkook was dressed casually as well, it’s doubtful a restaurant would give you a table dressed like this.
“You have a point. Wait, what was that supposed to mean-?”
“I’m glad you can agree.” You hit his hand, making his ice cream cone smear on his nose and you tried to stifle your laughter.
“Come here.”
“No way.” You started to run from him, making it a few meters before he caught you. He caught you in a hug, your back against his chest.
“Caught ya.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Hmm, what should I do with you? There’s so much I want to do to you right now.”
“That sounds so weird, just say it.”
“Clean this up, Y/N.” You pulled out the pack of Kleenex you kept with you, wiping Jungkook’s face and placed it in Jungkook’s hand.
“Don’t want to keep it for good luck?”
“What luck can I get from having your DNA?”
“Plenty, maybe you’ll find a man and quit clinging to me.”
“Says the one who comes to my house every day.”
“I didn’t come last Friday.”
“We went out last Friday, idiot. Taehyung and Jimin had to carry your drunk ass home.”
“It took the two of them? Weak.”
“Jungkook, you could barely stand. They were literally holding you up.”
“Don’t remember.”
“Thought so.”
“Alright, let’s go.” He reached for your wrist, pulling you along to his car.
“You’re not going to blindfold me again, are you?”
“Why, are you into that kind of thing?”
“Why is everything sexual with you?”
“When you’re built like a Greek god, you would understand.”
“You’re more like a buff teddy bear.”
“Way to boost my confidence.”
“Your confidence is already larger than this universe, it doesn’t need my help.”
“True.”
“I guess so.” You sighed, Jungkook smiling to himself while he drove you back to your apartment building. He parked, you get out as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
“What are you…”
“I’m walking you up to your place.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” He walked up next to you, the two of you not saying much until you were in front of your door.
“So, how was it this time?”
“It was great, you’re seeing her tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, I’m really pumped.”
“Tell me how it goes.”
“Sure. Night.”
“Night.” Jungkook turned his heel, walking to the elevator and you entered your apartment. You felt a pang of jealousy; this mystery crush that Jungkook’s never mentioned before gets to see a side of Jungkook that you’ve rarely seen.
She gets to the thoughtful and careful side of him, his irresistible charm and you are left to wonder alone.
You shook the thoughts from your mind, this is Jungkook you’re thinking about. He’s your annoying but dependable best friend who sees you as a sister. Right?
There’s so much I want to do to you right now. Those words sent shivers down your spine, making you shiver, and you tried your best to distract yourself.
It’s been a week since you saw Jungkook, work served as a good distraction until it was the weekend.
You dialled Taehyung’s number, the phone rang twice before you were greeted by him.
What’s up, buttercup?
“What’s up with Jungkook?” You were in your room, just arrived home from work.
Did you guys fight again?
“No. He told me he had a date with his crush last Saturday and he hasn’t called or came back for a week.”
Date? What date? We had a movie session last Saturday. Kookie even said that you were too busy to come over.
“He said that?”
Yeah, I was surprised since you never miss movie nights.
“Yeah.”
Do you want me to tell Jungkook you’re looking for him?
“I’ll just call him myself. Thanks, Tae.”
No problem just come over once in a while! I miss you.
“Miss you too, I’ll come over soon, I promise. Bye.” He bid you goodbye before you hung up. You sat down on your bed, your mind racing with possibilities.
What reason would Jungkook have to lie about a date? Did he really have a hit in his confidence?
You texted him, shut off your phone and found yourself something to eat.
In midst of one of your favourite shows, Jungkook swung your door open while panting.
“Would you like a glass of water?”
“Why was… your phone… off?”
“Dunno, why did you lie to me about having a date last Saturday?”
“How did… you… find out?”
“Thanks for telling Tae and everyone else that I was too busy to come for movie night.”
“Goddamnit Taehyung…”
“Did you strike out or something? Did she turn you down?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Because.”
“Is this really the time to be fucking stubborn? Spit it out, Jungkook.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Dude. Seriously?”
“It’s for my sake, please.” You rolled your eyes, what has gotten into him? You complied, hearing Jungkook walking over to you and stopping.
“I know I seem like this overly confident guy who doesn’t know the right time and place to say things, but I wanted this to be different.”
“I know I already fucked this up, but I didn’t know how to tell you without being a wimp. So, here it goes.”
“I’ve been in love with you ever since you showed me how to make sandcastles. I figured out that you added water but by then, I loved being around you that I needed an excuse to stick around.”
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t just say this, but I wanted to-”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I’m proclaiming my love for you and you’re calling me dumb?”
“Yes. I like you too, I realized it after you brought me home and didn’t talk to me afterwards.”
“Guess we need to be more honest with each other.”
“Excuse me, mister. I’m not the one who tricked the other into fake dates.”
“But weren’t they fun fake dates?”
“You should take me on a real date, Kook.”
“Of course, still got some tricks up my sleeve.”
“And tell me the truth from now on.”
“You sure about that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well…” He glanced down, you followed his gaze and landed on his obvious bulge.
“You really don’t know about time and place.”
“It’s not my fault, you’re hot and I can see your bra a little…”
“Jungkook-” He leaned in for a kiss, his lips were rough in their motions, but the gentle touch of his hands distracted you.
You massaged his bulge, a groan escaping his mouth and his hands gave your butt a squeeze.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
“Do you have to say it like that?”
“Are you getting shy on me, sweetheart? Cute.” He lingered kisses down your jaw, each kiss adding to the heat pooling in your body.
“You make it seem… so natural.” He purposely grazed his teeth against your neck, his lips scoping out your sweet spot.
“Mhm.”
“J-Jungkook.” You moaned as he found the sensitive spot of your neck, his lips immediately sucking the delicate flesh.
You began stroking his erection once again, eliciting grunts and groans in response before you reached into his jeans. You allowed your hands to feel his length, amazed at the size. Jungkook would always boast about his dick size, you dismissed it as him exaggerating but it was the truth.
“Shit, baby.” He grunted near your ear before giving you a teasing nibble. You began pumping his cock, Jungkook stealing a kiss between.
“Bedroom?”
“Okay.” You pulled your hand out, Jungkook reaching for your other hand and quickly rushing to the bedroom. He shut the door before he was kissing you again.
You stumbled to the bed on underneath Jungkook, his hand on either side of you as your hands grip his shirt to pull him closer.
“Wanna kiss you until your lips are all swollen.”
“Touch me first.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He muttered, slipping off the bed to let you move up before he situated himself between your legs. He took off your shorts along with your panties before looking at your newly exposed cunt.
“Don’t just stare…” He spread your lips apart, his tongue making quick work of the growing wetness. You mewl his name softly, the motion only making you unravel. He began fingering you, his tongue focusing on your clit.
The slow pace of his finger drawn out small bouts of pleasure with the circling of his tongue on your sensitive clit brought a chorus of moans and whimpers from your lips.
“Oh, fuck.” You cursed under your breath.
He added more fingers, his pace quickened as your mind began to pool along with the wetness of your cunt.
“Taking my fingers like a good fucking girl. My good fucking girl.” He murmured as his thumb rubbed against your clit, further stimulating you.
You could feel the brink of your orgasm for a moment before you were washed over with euphoric bliss.
“Why are you so hot?” He was fumbling with his belt, kicking off his bottoms and you bit your lip while watching.
“You tell me.”
“I’ll show you.” He rolled on a condom, placed his hand on your thighs and slowly entered your slit.
“So fucking tight.” He slipped his fingers between yours to hold himself up and you squeezed his hands while he continued to slide in. You urged him to begin moving with a clinch around his dick.
“Don’t do that, fuck.”
“Why not?”
“Unless you want me to come in 3 seconds, go ahead.”
“That’s how long you can last? I expect better.”
“Says the woman who’s already came once.”
“Don’t get cocky, Jeon.” He smirked, you clinched again, and he began to thrust harder.
“Going to mess you up so much you’ll remember how to scream my name.” He growled in your ear, his lips connecting to your neck again as he sucked a new hickey on your neck.
The slick of his cock thrusting into you was filled out by your shameless mewls and broken sobs. Your ears perked to the sounds of his groans and grunts as his hips slammed into yours.
“Shit.”
“Just like that, fuck.”
“M-Mmm.”
“Clinch for me.” You obliged, Jungkook letting out a drawn-out string of curses as you felt him coming. He pulled out of you, you sit up on the bed and he unrolled the condom.
He lied down next to you, you rest your head against his chest while his arm naturally settled at your hip.
“Y/N.”
“Yes?”
“You wanted me to be honest with you, right?”
“Kookie.”
“I honestly need round two.” Needless to say, the truth set him free.
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Find Me
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So I wrote this for two reasons. It is roughly based off what I hope will happen at an ECHL game when I go this coming weekend, and two i picked Nolan because I am still stuck on part 7 of Please dont Leave, and if I would had written about the ECHL player chances are no one would know who he is. Anyways, enjoy. 
You and your friend decided to go to a last minute hockey game, you scored some pretty good sits for really cheap considering how late in the season it was and how well the team has been doing lately. It also helped that you had connections with people in the ticket office. 
You usually went to games with your parents but tonight you decided to venture out on your own, plus your parents were busy and you didn’t want to sit home on a friday night. Your friend was always down for whatever whenever when it came to hockey. You did some loose beach waves and some light makeup before throwing on your Patrick jersey. You love the whole team but you had gotten nolan’s jersey for your birthday since you were turning 19 and your friends thought it would be cute to get you one every year same number on the back as your age. Well that was until next year when there is no player 20. 
You and your friend decided to eat at the arena. It was so much or crowded than it had been before but you took into account that it was the playoff push. You grabbed some chickie and pete fries and headed to your seats. You had perfect timing since the guys were only coming out for warmups. “Gets go to the glass and see if we can get a picture with one of them.” your friend suggested. You’ve always seen pictures of fans getting pucks and pictures with the guys so you gave it a chance. Heading down to the glass you saw Nolan. Your friend knocked on the glass gaining his attention, he turned around and gave a smile as well as wave his glove, your friend pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of the three of you. 
You turned around to mouth a thank you to Nolan, you saw him staring straight at you. you gave a quick smile. you were about to walk away when he took his glove off and held up a finger signaling you to wait. He leaned down and picked up a puck. He flipped it over the glass for you. Once again you smiled. you both kind of just stood there until Travis came over and skated right into Nolan, causing you to laugh while nolan shoved back at Travis. You waved goodbye and then headed back to your friend. You were about three rows from the ice and just about center line a little more so behind the players bench but  you had a pretty good view of both teams. 
You and your friend continued to talk throughout the warmup, you watched the guys do their routine of passing shooting and one on one drills. Your eyes landed on Nolan a few times to see that he was already looking at you.  You thought it was a little strange but you still gave him a smile. “Someone likes you.” Your friend bumped your shoulder laughing. “bruh, he’s a hockey player he sees tons of girls that he likes a night, doesn’t mean anything.” you said shoving your friends shoulder and laughing with her. The buzzer went off signaling the end of warmups, some of the guys stayed on the ice for a little longer wanting for the other team to leave. Nolan was last off the ice, he shot you a quick wave before heading down the tunnel.
It wasn’t that long until the game started. You decided to post the picture of your friend, Nolan, and you and then another picture of the puck that Nolan had tossed you. You captioned it A night to remember. Thank God for hockey boys. You were debating on tagging the flyers and or Nolan, you were too focused on that to notice that the opening video started playing for the Flyers meaning that they were about to come out of the tunnel. You quickly put your phone away and started cheering with the rest of the crowd. 
You patiently waited for them to announce the starting line up, secretly hoping that Nolan was starting. Sure enough it was Hart in net, Ghost and Provy as defense, and then Nolan, Travis and Coots, as offense. They were playing the islanders for the fourth and last time of the season, last game they won 4 to 1. You were a little worried because last game Jake got suspended two games for the hit to boychuck and he said that he was going to get him back, so you knew it was going to be a brutal game. 
Right off the face off Nolan had the puck and skated down the ice. you started to cheer him. hoping that he would make it. He passed it to travis who slapped the puck right past the goal tender making it 1-0 with just minutes into the game. The boys did their little line of high fives and then headed back out for another face off. This time the islander won and headed towards Carter, playing a little keep away from the guys you could tell they were tired and irritated, they needed a change. Provy got the puck and sent it down the ice, luckily Coots had touched it making sure it wasn’t icing. The boys quickly skated over to the bench for the line change. You looked down to see Nolan looking back at you with a smile then waved before turning around to focus on the game. 
The rest of the first period went pretty smoothly. There were a few rough hits but nothing too major. the islanders didn’t want to do anything to cause an unwanted penalty since they were down. The second period started off just how the first period ended. The islanders dominated majority of the game after the flyers opening goal. the one player took a shot to which carter out of a rebound causing another player to come charging at the net, crashing straight into Carter, his helmet few off. The flyers didn’t take too kindly to that considering Travis one player in a head lock while Nolan was squaring up with the guy who hurt Carter. It was almost a full line brawl. Travis started to throw some punches at his guy while Nolan already threw punches and had his guy on the ice. 
Carter was standing up talking to the trainer, he seemed to be fine, he was a little more concerned about getting his helmet fixed. They gave the islanders two five minutes for fighting and gave the same to the flyers. The crowd was upset thinking that there should had been more considering the player never let up before contact with Carter which sent him flying into the net and his helmet to come off. There both Nolan and travis sat in the box, they were still chirping at the other players. The game continued, it was pretty much back and forth until the last seconds of the penalties, the one defense men on the flyer shot the puck up the ice, Travis was the first to leave the box followed by Nolan they were both considered in play. Travis got the puck and continued to skate down the ice followed by Nolan. travis pulled the goalie to one side while he passed to Nolan for basically an empty netter. 
You literally jumped out of your seat. Nolan had an assist, a fight and a goal which was a gordie howe hat trick and it was only midway through the second period. you didn’t notice the camera man standing in front of the section that you were in taking pictures of the crowd, you only noticed when a flash went off signaling that he took a picture. The Islanders called a time out to try and slow down the flyers momentum. While the crowd waited for puck to be dropped again music came on to fill the time. It was your favorite song, pulling your friend to her feet you both started dancing, until the jumbo tron showed you and your friend. Some of the guys were looking up and watching you and your friend having a great time. 
The flyers ended the second period 4 to zero two goals thanks to nolan, travis (twice) and Hartman , you were hoping that tonight would be the night that carter finally got his shut out that he’s deserved since day one. The second intermission went pretty quick and before you knew it the guys were back on the ice. There were a few more fights that broke out, and in all honesty you couldn’t blame the players, the flyers weren’t letting up and the islanders were playing pretty rough, but you didn’t want the game to end. You usually got sad at the second intermission knowing that there was only another 20 minutes to play. The islanders pulled their goalie pretty early, basically with 5 minutes to go. JVR skated down the ice shooting the puck on net to which it went in. The crowd started cheering louder than ever before, you were glad JVR was playing some good hockey with the team, after all he was your first flyers player. The Islanders put their goalie back in only to pull him once the face off happened. 
Nolan skated down the ice towards the empty net, instead of taking the empty netter for himself he passed the puck to travis who happily put it in the back of the net, needless to say the game ended 6-0. Carter had finally gotten himself the shut out that he deserved. The guys stood in the middle of the ice acknowledging the crowd that was watching. You caught Nolan staring at you again, you were too caught up in him to notice that most of the fans were leaving, your friend nudged your arm. “You ready to go?” she asked. “Yeah, sure.” you said looking back on the nice to see the guys leaving and heading down the tunnel. “that was a really good game. You and Nolan seem to have something going on.” she said laughing. “Oh shut it. He’s a hockey player, he’s just being nice.” you said. 
You knew you were lying to yourself, you didn’t understand why he paid so much attention to you. As soon as you got back home you went to sleep right away. Not that your mind wanted to let you, you kept thinking about Nolan. Rubbing your eyes you looked at your phone, it was already 10 o’clock, shit,  you were late for class. You literally jumped out of your bed and got dressed. heading into the bathroom you sprayed some dry shampoo and brushed your teeth. Grabbing your keys and your book bag you headed out the door and to your class. You had just gotten into class when your phone started to blow up with notifications. Looking down you saw that it was your best friend.  “CHECK INSTA!!!!!” She texted. she sent another text but this time it was a picture “IT’S YOU!!!!” confused you looked at the picture, it was a screen shot of the flyers latest post it was indeed you. You remembered that the photographer had taken your picture right after  Nolan had score. you were so excited that he scored you jumped out of your chair. You texted your friend back. “Okay, so?” you asked not knowing what the big deal was. “SO?!?!?! Have you been on twitter?” She texted you back. “No.” She had sent you another picture, it was a screen shot but this time it was from twitter. “Nolan is looking for you.” the text read. you clicked on the picture. It was a tweet from Nolan with the picture of you from the game last night that they posted on instagram. “Can someone help me to find out who this girl is?” read Nolan’s tweet. 
“Why is he looking for me out of all people?” you asked your friend. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because y’all connected last night!!!!” your friend said. You decided to go onto twitter yourself to see if this tweet was real. Looking up Nolan’s twitter you was the post. then you saw there was a feed. The one person had commented that they thought that you went to Temple and was in her class, to which nolan replied asking for her help to find you. You weren’t sure how your felt. You could just message him asking what he wanted but what fun would that be, you decided that if he really wanted to know who you were he was going to have to  work for it. 
You tweeted  to your page hoping that Nolan would be smart enough to figure out what it means. The girl who replied to the tweet originally was actually in your class and your followed each other on twitter, you posted two simple words, Find Me .....
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radiojamming · 6 years ago
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Cody/Jacob - soulmates au
ohhh buddy u have no idea how much i’ve mused on this exact thing
(this got so fucking long i am so sorry and yet i am not)
- - -
For the few months that Jacob Seed actually remembers his family owning a TV, he notices a few things. 
He’s about six years old, leaning up against his mother’s legs while she patches the elbow on one of his father’s work jackets (she’s always, always patching things; they never buy anything new). Joseph is sitting on the floor beside the TV set, playing with a worn down wooden horse toy that they bought at a garage sale, and he babbles to it in his own language that is half English and half two-going-on-three year old chatter. Their father is out working late again, which means they have a few hours to watch whatever they want, rather than the loud televangelists that he likes.
On the screen, in shivering monochrome, a greaser bobs his way into a diner, smirking at a young lady in a poodle skirt leaning up against a jukebox. He says, “Hey, sweetcheeks. You got a name to go with that pretty face?” 
The girl rolls her eyes and the audience laughs. Jacob doesn’t get it.
“Martha,” the girl finally drawls.
“What a coinky-dink!” says the greaser. He shoulders off his leather jacket and rolls up a shirt sleeve, revealing an entire list of names on his right arm. Soulmarks, Jacob knows. He knows them from TV and from what Pastor Jim talks about at church sometimes. He doesn’t really know what they are, except some way to find out who you’re going to marry. But he does know that they show up different on everyone. Names are common. His mother has a name on her ankle, and it isn’t his father’s.
On the screen, the greaser runs a finger over his arm before he settles on a name. “Gee, Martha! Guess you n’ me are just meant to be together!” he exclaims, all but shoving his arm in her face.
Martha looks at him with thinly-veiled disgust before reaching over and dumping a glass bottle of Coke on his arm. Then, she reaches up while the greaser is stunned and the audience is howling in laughter, and she uses her shirt sleeve to wipe the names off his arm until they’re just an inky mess. 
“Nice try,” she says levelly before turning on heel and walking out the door to the audience whooping and laughing. 
Jacob sits in slack-jawed awe while Joseph chirps out something that sounds like, “Pecan!” which Jacob thinks is the name of the horse. Then, Jacob leans back against his mother’s legs, tilting his head up so she looks upside-down in his vision. “Mama, can you wipe soulmarks off?” he asks.
His mother gives him an upside-down smile and shakes her head. “No, baby. They don’t come off. He was just bein’ silly.”
“Oh.” Jacob tilts his head back down as a commercial comes on for Oscar Mayer bologna. He looks to his right, seeing the last few letters of his mother’s soulmate’s name peeking up above her sock. All he sees is -EY in weird writing. He looks down at himself, at his shorts and bare knees and tube socks with two neat red lines near the top. Then, he looks down at his hands, his wrists, and even his elbows. “How come I don’t have one?” he finally asks.
His mother laughs, and Jacob’s too young to realize that it’s one of the rarest sounds in the world. She reaches down and runs a hand over his hair, red like his dad’s. “You will soon, baby. Sometimes it takes a little while.”
He’s also too young to realize that some people never get them.
- - -
They switch churches when Jacob’s just shy of ten years old. His skin is still bare of anything like a soulmark, although he has enough freckles, scars, and bruises to last him a lifetime. 
His dad doesn’t like Pastor Jim’s preaching anymore, and Jacob’s aware that they had some kind of argument about the way his dad treats his mom. His dad swears that it’s because God isn’t in Pastor Jim’s preaching, so they end up going to a Baptist church that’s built so close to the Coosa River that it looks like it’s going to fall right in. It’s the kind of church that has something called a revival every few weekends, where they set up a big white tent near the river and dunk people in the water while yelling about Jesus for a few hours. Jacob was baptized awhile ago, but he still watches in stunned silence when their new pastor, Pastor Richard, hollers and waves his arm like a ghost in a madhouse before dunking old ladies and young guys and a whole gaggle of little kids.
And Pastor Richard has a lot to say about soulmarks.
He smacks the Bible a lot when he talks, and goes on for ages about how only a man and a woman can marry over soulmarks, or how soulmarks were made on Adam’s skin from the dirt he slept in while God took his rib to make Eve. During one sermon, someone says something about having multiple marks, and Pastor Richard goes on such a screaming tangent that Joseph starts to whimper in his mother’s arms. There’s no such thing as multiple, he snarls. That’s not how God’s love works.
Jacob looks down at his own skin again, peeking out under the sweat-soaked white button-up shirt his dad makes him wear every Sunday. He sees freckles on his wrists and not much else.
He almost wants to ask about people who don’t have marks, but he’s afraid of Pastor Richard shouting at him, too. 
- - -
The next few years make it hard to think about soulmarks or much of anything except how to keep himself and his brothers alive. Lots of things happen in a blur; his dad getting taken away in a patrol car, his mom taken in the other direction in an ambulance while she stares at nothing, and then the ugly black Cadillac that comes to take them away in a third direction. There are stark white offices, bunk beds in rooms that smell like fresh paint and sawdust, stacks of papers that Jacob has to sign sometimes, and what feels like hundreds of people with faces that Jacob is never going to remember, all pretending to be sad on his behalf.
He holds John through most of it, trying not to think too hard about his parents or the life they left behind. Sometimes he thinks about the name on his mom’s ankle, or the tattoo-like splotch on the back of his dad’s left wrist, or how the two of them were never meant to be together. 
Sometimes, he thinks if he doesn’t have a mark, then–
He stops himself there, because otherwise, he just gets himself upset. He can’t do that in front of his brothers when they need him the most.
Then, they get adopted by the farmer couple in Rome, and before Jacob knows it, he doesn’t have time to think about soulmates and marks at all. 
- - - 
He’s in juvie when he gets something like a mark. Maybe. 
It’s one of the younger kids, Toby or Tony or something, with the long Italian last name who was born with two fingers on his right hand fused together. He follows Jacob around like a lost puppy, along with a few other kids who quickly learn that Jacob Seed punches like a fucking boxer when one of the older kids picks on one of the younger. Toby-or-Tony was one of those kids, after one of the older guys (colloquially known as Forevers, since everyone knows that once they’re out of juvie, they’ll just boomerang right back into prison) gets a few of his buddies started on calling him Lobster Boy. He shoves Toby-or-Tony up against the chain-link fence at the courtyard and makes a big show of seemingly trying to peel his fingers apart, when Jacob (known for his soft voice, massive height, and the fact that he stares people down like a goddamn wolf on the prowl) hauls up behind him and socks the shit out of the guy. Once the guy’s on the ground, bleeding out of the mouth and mewling like a kitten, Jacob saunters away without a word and Toby-or-Tony follows him like he’s magnetized.
And he notices the weird mark on Jacob’s hand first. It’s a splotch of blue-black in near the tip of his left middle finger, and he points at out at lunch one afternoon while Jacob prods at a Salisbury steak which would probably be better suited as a hockey puck then an edible item. Toby-or-Tony watches his hand move before he clears his throat.
“Uh. Jake. You got a little somethin’ on yer…” He makes a throwaway motion towards his hand.
Jacob curls his hand inward enough to see, and furrows his brow at the weird little mark, not quite a quarter of an inch long. It looks like an ink stain, but the last time he touched a pen was in the social worker’s office almost five weeks ago. They only let the kids have pencils in school.
“Huh,” is all he says. He takes the moist towelette they give out with the lunches and tries to wipe it off. It stays in place, not blurred or faded in the least. He blinks at it, then down at the towelette which is as clean as it was when he took it out of the package.
Toby-or-Tony gives him a lopsided grin. “You get a tattoo from Kev or what?” he asks, referring to Kevin-in-the-bathroom, who gives kids tattoos using ink from a broken pen and a fork he stole from lunch ages ago. 
“Fuck no,” Jacob replies gruffly, shoving the towelette aside. “I’m not that stupid.” And it’s forgotten in the course of him trying to saw the steak in half, failing, and then flipping it onto Toby-or-Tony’s plate, who retches a little at the sight of the alarmingly gray gravy trail it leaves behind.
It’s forgotten, for a little while, until Jacob stands in the showers and looks down at it again. It might be a trick of the waxy light in the bathroom, but he swears it’s gotten bigger. 
- - -
When he starts BCT at Fort Benning, Jacob sees the marks on his knees. They’re the size of half dollars, plastered in blue-black on his skin like he just slid through a puddle of ink. They’re nearly identical, too, and he stares at them in confusion and something like awe in that split second of time he has before he has to get back in uniform. 
It’s on his mind for only an hour or so before the drill sergeant is screaming in his ear through drills.
Jacob usually only ever has two things on his mind at that point. He still thinks about his brothers, about how the last time he saw them, Joseph was a wiry-looking preteen with owlish eyes and a healing broken nose, and John was crying, clinging onto Joseph’s hand with his big blue eyes so full of tears that he had to blink a dozen times just to see Jacob clearly as the police pulled them apart. He remembers how John kept one of his shirts like a security blanket, keeping the black fabric draped over one arm or clasped against his chest while he slept. Then, Jacob realizes that the more he thinks about that, the more it hurts. But it hurts more to try to forget them at all.
The other thing he thinks about is his future, which rocks back and forth precariously between promising and doomed. Linda, his social worker back in Macon, bluntly told him that his outlook was either prison or the army, but cited his fantastic test scores as a potential for college. He remembers her manicured nails, painfully pink against the black desk, and how she clicked them, one-two-three-four against the surface.
“You get into the army, then college is pretty well paid for,” she had said with a shrug, glancing at the paper with his GPA from the center. He knew it without having to see it, staring with a three and ending with a high number that nearly tips the scale into 4.0. “You ever think about getting a degree?”
He hadn’t. He said as much, followed by, “If I did, could I get custody of my brothers?”
She had shrugged, and it made his heart sink. “Maybe. Maybe not. Most likely not,” she said. “They might be adopted out by now, and even if you did get a degree, there are a lot of other factors that the state would consider.”
And that’s what kicked off his second dwelling point, where he wavered between optimistically thinking about his years of service, a college degree, and the potential of not only seeing his brothers again, but having custody, and then ending up in a gutter somewhere, or possibly prison.
But a third point hardly occurred to him until the stains appeared on his knees, as stark as tattoos. 
He sees them again when he goes in to shower after drills, and all he can think of is that TV show and the names on the greaser’s arms, followed by his mother saying sometimes it takes a little while.
And sometimes not to people like him, with no future and no prospects, he had thought.
His mind keeps playing the show and his mother’s words, but the rational part of him, the one that speaks in a voice an awful lot like Linda, says that they’re just bruises. 
It’s harder to forget this time, though.
- - -
Once again, things are a blur. A big one, kicked off mercifully by huge doses of pain medication given through syringes in hep-locks and intravenous tubes. 
Jacob’s only vaguely aware of what’s going on, trying to piece it all together as he rolls in and out of consciousness like a ship on the waves. He remembers a black expanse of desert in the darkness, then shouting, then a high whistle of something airborne and travelling at high speeds, and then– 
Pain. 
White-hot and cracking and oozing. 
All over his body.
He sees flashes of white, and people behind masks. He sees someone he knows is a surgeon, and then they’re gone. He feels things touching him, more poking and prodding, the smell of something so antiseptic that it stings to breathe it in, and the endless drone of voices in multiple languages, mixing together so it sounds like Joseph’s made-up language from childhood.
Shit, he hasn’t thought about Joseph in awhile. 
He doesn’t have time to think much of anything else before he dips under again, and his head is full of strange dreams of little kids sleeping on bales of hay, but then the bales turn to sawdust-smelling bunk beds, and then they’re shoved up against chain-link fences. He dreams of blue-black bruises on his knees, and as he comes back up for a second, smelling sickly-sweet medicine and hearing the distinct beep of an EKG, he has one rogue thought that breaks rank and hauls ass in another direction.
Sorry, he thinks, directing at someone far away. Someone he’s never seen, but in this twilight-phase of sleep and waking, he knows is there. You don’t need this on you. You don’t need to see this.
It doesn’t make sense, and, hell, he isn’t even sure what it means. All he knows is that at some point, his entire body feels like it’s bandaged, and he’s sure he looks like an old Hollywood mummy plastered to a stretcher. 
At some point, he thinks he hears someone say, “Second and third degree burns over sixty percent–”, but he might also dream that.
And yet, all he can think still is, Sorry, sorry, sorry.
- - -
He tastes something charred in his mouth as he walks, and his head feels unscrewed from his body, like the bulb of a flashlight not quite screwed in all the way. Here and there, it flickers– He flickers, not quite here, not quite gone. He staggers through the desert on a leg that’s not right, with a ghost trailing behind him, and his head is just–
He’s laughing. He’s fucking laughing, and the sound carries loud and clear over the mountains and the sand and the thin ground cover that promises water that isn’t there. He’s choking on the sound, and when he looks down at his left arm, sleeve torn away to make a bandage for 
(for Miller, but God knows he doesn’t need it now)
someone, he sees a long lance of ink-blue trailing down his arm in a dark stripe. he about loses it then, the laughter breaking like glass in his throat.
“God, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” his voice cracks, riddled here and there with splits and crevasses. He grins in a rictus smile, muscles yanked back so that it feels like he has no control over his face. He smiles like
(like that corpse you left behind, you sick fuck)
a skeleton, and he shivers so hard that it’s a wonder his bones are holding together at all. 
He runs his hand down that mark, and up, and down. Over and over until his calloused hand feels as abrasive as sandpaper on his skin. He’s trying to wipe the mark away–
(“No, baby. They don’t come off. He was just bein’ silly.”)
It doesn’t come off. He rubs and rubs until his skin turns red around the blue. He laughs. He screams. He screams and screams and screams.
(Until the Humvee comes after a report from a lookout at a mountain outpost, drawing full alert to the fact that there’s a man in US Army fatigues staggering like a drunk across the desert. And then they pick him up, delirious to the point that he’s laughing in dry heaves of sound, clearly malnourished, vomiting the second they give him water, and chattering madly about ghosts and brothers and someone that he can’t stop apologizing to.)
- - -
Whoever said, ‘All roads lead to Rome,’ needs a solid kick in the jewels, no matter how long they’ve been dead. (He knows it’s from the Golden Milestone. He’s read it, among five hundred other things to occupy his time in the dingy little apartment the Army saw fit to gift him with after an honorable discharge. Fuck them.)
The road’s led him from Hartsfield-Jackson Airport to a miserable walk-up on Beecher Street to hitchhiking across half of Georgia to avoid Rome, and finally from I-16 to I-75 to 411 and straight back into that goddamn hornet’s nest of memory that Rome is.
In the end, the road back to Rome has taken him to the optimistically-named Hope Rebuilding shelter where he sleeps on an Army cot (God, he can’t even get away from that) while listening to the droning buzz of fluorescent lights above his head and the insistent cough of a woman dying of emphysema on the other side of the room. There are plenty of other wayward veterans here, all with glassy eyes and too-long beards (at least his is still red and not ash-gray or bone-white) and the occasional pension check that floats in to provide for cigarettes or the contraband bottle of Wild Turkey. 
Jacob resigns himself to his cot, to the olive drab duffel bag that he lives out of with the handful of books he kept from the Beecher Street apartment and a few essentials. The rest, he doesn’t care about. He’s sure he’s going to die here, the same way people do all the time. One day, one of the sweet old ladies of Hope Rebuilding will come over to wake him and find him stone-cold and grinning like he did in the desert, and then maybe they’ll weep a little before calling the ambulance company and funeral home that they have on speed dial. He’s oddly content with that now.
The only other thing keeping him afloat is the person on the other side of those blue marks that ripple onto his skin sometimes. He knows that they’re soulmarks, but he also knows that he’s never going to meet that person, and that it’s for the better that he doesn’t. He’s left them scarred, he’s sure, if the marks are what he imagines. Every time one of them gets hurt, the mark appears on the other person. It’s somehow suitable, in the way that the marks are supposed to be. He knows his soulmate is accident prone but not in any real danger. They get scrapes or bruises all the time, and when he allows himself to let his mind wander, he imagines that they might play some kind of high contact sport, especially when he gets a blue mark on his right shin in the shape of a leg guard.
Sometimes, when his head is unscrewed again and he’s seeing corpses smiling at him when he closes his eyes, he brings his left forearm up to his face and presses his lips against the skin. There’s a thin sky-blue line there, a scar left over from the day when it was a cobalt-colored stripe. After he kisses it, he apologizes again.
He’s sorry that he did this to them, probably making them look like they’ve been drenched in ink.
He’s sorry that they had to watch that happen, and it’s only a little comforting to think that someone out there worried about him.
He’s sorry that they’ll never meet, and he’s sorry that he’s alright with that.
“I wish you could wipe them off,” he says to the scar one night when Sharon-with-emphysema hacks and wheezes and one of the old Vietnam guys groans and yells in his sleep. “I wish you didn’t get stuck with me. I’m sorry.”
His isn’t one of the soulbonds where he feels the things his soulmate feels. But for a moment, he thinks he feels them respond.
It’s okay. We’re okay.
- - -
Joseph is still owl-eyed, but his wide eyes are now hidden behind gold aviators which he only takes off to wipe at his face when he tears up too much. Everything else about him is different. He’s taller now, more muscular, with long dark hair like their mother’s pulled back into a ponytail tied low on his head. He smiles at Jacob like he can’t believe he’s real.
John is… different. Jacob doesn’t blame John for being wary, because they’re practically meeting as strangers. John’s full grown now, which is mind-boggling. He’s a good-looking twenty-something, with slicked back hair and a finely trimmed beard and clothes more expensive than anything Jacob’s ever owned. He’s a lawyer, Joseph explains, and he’s the one responsible for scenting Jacob’s trail. 
That’s not hard to do, Jacob says. He hasn’t showered in days.
Joseph doesn’t think that’s very funny, but when John smiles, Jacob knows for sure that it’s his little brother in there, rich boy bedamned. 
They catch up slowly, first in the shelter, then at a greasy diner downtown, then at a hotel room that John gets for Jacob so that he can reassemble himself into something almost human.
He learns that Joseph had a soulmate, but she’s dead now. John has a mark, but no one on the other end yet. They find out he has one, but no interest in meeting them.
He almost has to smile as Joseph frowns at this. The Seeds, just as discontent and dysfunctional as they’ve always been.
Then Joseph tells him about the Voice, about his mission, about all this godly crap and being led to convert people whether they want to be converted or not. Joseph says he understands that Jacob will be hesitant, after everything he’s been through.
No shit, says Jacob, and Joseph almost admonishes him for language. John laughs again. He laughs a lot, but it’s not always happy.
Oh, but it’s all true. How else would Joseph find his brothers again? And doesn’t Jacob remember when Joseph told him about the Voice when they were kids? 
Jacob stares at him, at his massive eyes that look like they’re pleading for him to believe his brother. Then, he looks at John, who shrugs.
John believes him. He’s even helped rent a space in an old meat-packing plant for this new church Joseph has started. They already have a congregation, and they have space for one more Herald, this thing Joseph says is necessary for them to save the world or whatever.
It’s not like Jacob’s life can get any weirder, honestly.
He looks down at that pale blue line on his left arm, and down at the torn knees of his jeans, where below the feathered white threads, he knows there are two identical silver dollar scars on his knees from what he now believes are a few saved up childhood falls. He almost mentally asks his soulmate if this is alright, if they’d be fine with him running off with one brother who might be just barely clinging to reality, and another who is rich, damaged, and happy to go along for the ride.
He doesn’t ask, because this feels like something they don’t need to know about.
“Sure,” he says. When Joseph looks at him, almost puzzled that he didn’t have to push his point harder, Jacob just shakes his head and shrugs. “Anything for you. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.”
Joseph hugs him again, so tight that it almost hurts. He thanks Jacob repeatedly, saying he won’t regret it. He’ll never regret it. Eden’s Gate is going to succeed, because they’re all together like God planned.
Jacob never tells him that he doesn’t really believe him, but it feels like the right decision all the same.
- - -
So the Lord God called out to Adam, “Where are you?”
“I heard Your voice in the garden,” he replied, “and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid myself.”
Jacob pretends he’s not hiding this. Not hiding the split in his mind and the things that he’s doing, when the Montana soil on his hands gets darker and damper until it runs dark red off his fingers. He pretends he’s not somehow ashamed of this, of the things they do. It’s for Joseph, after all. It’s what Joseph wants, what he says God commands, because God commands that all must convert, be it their decision or not. And God’s commanded Jacob to build Him an army, an army that carries Joseph’s word like a banner.
He pretends this is what he’s wanted all along, and he turns a blind eye to the silver and blue lines and splotches on his skin. They’ll never meet, he knows. They’ll never see this, this empire he builds on the bones of those that have failed. This is not Rome, not Babylon. This is designed to go on forever, beyond the end.
He’d like for them to be there when the world burns away like the impurities in a crucible. But that’s just not meant to be.
- - -
Over the radio, John sounds like he’s about to laugh himself into a fucking aneurysm. Jacob can hear him practically wheezing as he tells Jacob that the Deputy, this Oakley girl that he remembers from the arrest in the church is headed towards the Whitetails in a fury. At first, he thinks John’s laughing because Deputy Oakley thinks she can do something to stop Eden’s Gate, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s not the case.
“I baptized her. Or, tried to,” John attempts to explain, but he dissolves into laughter again until Jacob just turns off the radio out of frustration.
He knows he’ll recognize her. There’s only a handful of people out there who match her description. He’s got it all written down in his office, prepared for wanted posters and broadcasted alerts and commands. Deputy Oakley (Pratt won’t give up her first name), late 20s or early 30s, height between 5′6″ and 5′9″, auburn hair, hazel eyes, dark tan skin. In the church, she had been pretty steadfast and serious, full of nervous energy. Now Jacob knows better, learning that she’s been blazing trails up one mountain and down another. She’s done action movie leaps out of moving helicopters, run around with a pet cougar, and by his security footage, has done stupid shit like hand stands on a cliff edge and stunt rides on a rickety ATV that’s probably as old as she is.
And her stupid laugh is on loop in his head, for all the times he’s eavesdropped on her radio calls with his brother and sister. She has this low, dry laugh that comes close to a witch cackle, but the more honest it is, the richer it is, even though a veil of static.
Of course, she hits the Whitetails like a torpedo. Eli takes to her, as predicted, which jump starts Jacob’s idea. Once she takes the lumber mill and rescues Jess Black (damnit, she would have been a choice recruit, but oh well), he decides to put the plan into action. 
And when he captures her and gets her in the chair, he finds out exactly why John was laughing.
In the darkness and shuttered light of the projector, he can’t make out many details about her. He knows Pratt’s put her in the chair while Jacob was preparing, so he hasn’t seen her up close himself. And in the dim light, with casts of gray and green and red, there’s not much to see other than an expression of masked horror and awe. Then, the picture on the projector changes to one of his favorites; one of the white wolves gnawing off a deer leg. The light’s bright enough that he sees–
He sees something impossible.
For the first time in years, he fumbles in his presentation. He freezes, staring, watching her with wide eyes. He sees the light of the projector illuminating patches and spatters of blue that go from her forehead down her temples and cheeks, spilling onto her neck and disappearing under the hem of her black parka before reappearing on the backs of her hands.
And she’s looking at him with the same expression of frozen wonder. Maybe the horror isn’t directed towards what he’s doing so much as what he looks like.
And he thinks. He really thinks.
He doesn’t remember any of those marks in the church, but the waters of the baptism might have washed a layer of make-up away. 
“Oh, fuck,” says the Deputy in a whisper.
He echoes her sentiment, and for the first time in ages, he has no idea what to do.
His soulmate is strapped into one of his chairs, ready for a round of conditioning. His soulmate, the one he’s spoken to through scars, apologized to, begged forgiveness from when things got bad, and mentally hid things from, is sitting in front of him as his biggest potential enemy.
Sometimes it takes a little while, his mother had said. Give or take two decades or so.
They don’t wash off, she said. No, but you can hide them with make-up or scar them over so bad that they disappear.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, he had said. And suddenly, he wants to say it again.
Instead, he clears his throat as the projector clicks and shows a deer skull against a snowy background. “Pratt,” he says, and he hears the man grunt behind him. “Take Deputy Oakley to 3-A. We need to have a talk.”
He knows Pratt hesitates, and all it takes is one heavy step toward him to send the man scurrying over to his coworker, quickly undoing the straps. He helps her stand, and she does so on legs that don’t quite hold her up right. When she takes one step and nearly falls, Jacob feels himself lurch forward on the instinct to catch her. He only just stops himself when Pratt catches her and assures her that she’s going to be fine. 
Jacob should be the one doing that. He should be–
He stiffens. “Get moving,” he barks, and Pratt almost drags her out of the room.
The other two Whitetails in the room stare at him as the deer skull is projected over him. He breathes heavy, thinking. Always thinking.
And suddenly, he catches that crest of thought that he only felt in juvie, when he was young and still had some optimistic bone that hadn’t been shattered yet. He sees potential there, a future that doesn’t end with either of them dead, or Joseph’s vision ruined. He sees something like promise, like the possibility of having a right hand that can strike as quick and hard as he needs. Someone beside him, someone strong and as of yet unable to really be defeated. He sees his soulmate there, where soulmates should be, this balance on the other end of his scale that’s always been tilted and askew.
She’s seen his pain on her skin, and he’s seen hers. He can use this. He can bring them together and make a partnership and cull the weak in their pack with one of the strongest by his side.
And as he continues his presentation to the hapless Whitetails, who will eventually become the Deputy’s first test, he thinks about the girl in the other room with the ink-blue marks of his scars on her skin. He thinks of the future they can make.
He has no idea that she’s going to fight him every step of the way.
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nichknack · 6 years ago
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Little Lion Man [Dear Evan Hansen! 3-Gatsu no Lion AU]
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Connor hadn’t lied about his age, per se. He just hadn’t refused when Aaron Puck suggested they go grab a drink after their match.
It wasn’t like Puck didn’t know Connor was underage, the fact that he was one of the younger expert chess players around was practically common knowledge. Only sixteen and with an ELO rating over 2500. It seemed impressive to anyone who wasn’t Connor. Or anyone who knew fuck-all about chess.
Maybe it was a trick? After all, Connor had wiped the floor with the old man. If anyone found that the American chess world’s young star had gotten drunk he’d be well and truly screwed.
Besides, Puck hadn’t even offered him a ride home. He’d just left him to find his own way back, barely able to walk in a straight line.
Connor stumbled his way through the dark, moving from streetlamp to streetlamp in a search for familiar landmarks. His body moved automatically, past the city library, past the convenience store with the vending machine that would spit out free drinks if you kicked it the right way, left on ninth, right on twelfth.
The air felt too thick. The sky felt like it was rotating, reminding Connor of when he’d run around in circles as a kid, purposely trying to make himself dizzy. Zoe had found it funny.
He tasted bile and his hands found the metal railing separating the sidewalk from a ninety-feet drop. How the fuck had he gotten to the bridge?
Connor stared down at the rolling water. Without the sun to light it up, it just looked like a heaving pool of darkness lapping against the supports of the bridge. He kept staring. Stared until the drop made him light-headed.
He’d thought about it a lot. Flinging himself over into the water.
Some nights--when insomnia was at its peak and he didn’t feel like studying for his next match--he’d sit on the balcony of his crummy apartment and watched the bridge, trying to pluck up enough courage to just die.
A few times he’d seen people climb over the ledge and had to call the 911. Most times they’d arrive, talk the person back over and whisk them away in an ambulance with a blanket around their shoulders. Other times he’d hear the stomach-churning sound of a body hitting the water.
Part of him knew he should go out and help them himself, but another knew he’d probably fuck that up too.
He wondered if anyone would call 991 for him.
No, he decided. He’d probably just get shit for loitering or causing a disturbance or some crap like that.
Hello, officer? A homeless-looking drunk is making me uncomfortable. Please lock him up and throw away the key. Or better yet, just push him over and let him fucking drown. It’s what he deserves after all.
“Are you okay?”
Connor’s shoulders tensed and he whirled around, gripping the railing tightly in an attempt to keep himself upright.
A woman stood in front of him. A nurse, he realised. Still wearing her scrubs.
He tried to force his lips to move, to form the words to tell this woman that, yeah, he was completely fine, but instead his mouth pulled back into a watery grimace and he started to cry. It was like someone had flicked a switch in his brain and turned on the waterworks.
“Woah. Hey, hey.” The nurse took a tentative step forward. “I’m going to touch you, is that okay?”
Connor nodded, rubbing his eyes on the back of his hand.
“Alright. Hey. It’s okay.” She reached out and put her arms around him, holding him up. “You’ve had a lot to drink, haven’t you?” There wasn’t anything accusing in her voice. Not like his parents when he’d come home late. It was more of a statement, a concern. “Come on. One foot in front of another. Let’s get you cleaned up, huh? Come on, one, two, three. There we go, just a few more steps. God, you barely weight anything. Have you eaten?”
As the nurse lead Connor down the street, he was acutely aware that she could very well be an axe murderer about to drag him to his death. He didn’t really care, though maybe that was the alcohol.
He kept walking, listening to her questions but not really giving any answers. Occasionally, he’d think he was finished with crying, but then he’d start up again and have to stop to wipe his nose and eyes on the cuff of his hoodie.
To give her credit, the nurse waited for him each time. She didn’t make him hurry up, or groan or sigh when his feet planted in place and he fumbled to find a patch of fabric that wasn’t completely drenched in snot. She just let him get on with it before helping him back on his way.
Eventually, they reached their destination, which turned out to be a rickety house on the edge of town. It looked almost as shit as Connor’s apartment.
Inside, however, it proved to be rather cozy, if a little cluttered.
“Almost there,” the nurse hauled Connor into the living room, letting him sit down on the single couch. The moment she let go of him, Connor plonked himself down onto his side, which helped the spinning somewhat. In truth, he was far too tall for the tiny couch and had to pull his knees up to his chest for all of his body to be able to lay down comfortably.
“No shoes on the couch, come on.”
Closing his eyes, Connor kicked off his boots and let them thud to the floor.
“Thank you.”
He kept his eyes closed and listened to her footsteps leave the room.
“Hey.” Out in the hall, a new voice spoke.
“Oh. Hey. I thought you were in bed.” The nurse again.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Connor’s first assumption was that the voice belonged to the woman’s husband. Then, common sense kicked in. The voice was far too young. Probably a child. A son, by the sounds of it. Or maybe a daughter with a kind of deep voice?
There was a pause.
“Uh...I-Is there a cat in there?” The new voice asked.
“Huh?” The nurse laughed. “Kind of?”
“A dog? Are you sure the others are going to....” there were footsteps, followed by another, long, pause.
Connor didn’t dare to open his eyes.
“Evan,” the nurse said quietly. “Can you get some water for me?”
The new voice--Evan--didn’t say anything, but presumably nodded and went on his way.
The room became silent again, and Connor assumed he must have fallen asleep as the next thing he knew the nurse had him sat up and was shaking him awake.
“Here,” she handed him a glass of water. “Drink up.”
Connor did, draining the glass in three quick gulps.
“Do you feel up to eating?” The nurse asked, replacing the glass with a slice of plain, white bread.
“I think so…” Connor couldn’t help but wince at how slurred his voice was.
“Good. Good.” The nurse reached to the side and seemed to pull a bucket from thin air. She placed it on the couch beside him. “Just in case. I put tissues at the bottom, helps with the splashback.”
Suddenly the bread seemed far less appetizing.
“What’s your name?”
“Connor.”
“Okay, Connor. My name’s Heidi. It’s nice to meet you.” She had a voice like a kindergarten teacher: soft and slow, but somehow chipper at the same time. “I need a phone number, okay? I’m sure your parents will be worried.”
Connor felt his lip start to warble and crammed the slice of bread into his mouth. He swallowed it too quickly, making him gag.
“Careful!” Heidi thumped him on the back.
“They don’t know I’m out,” he wheezed, reaching for the bucket.
“All the more reason to call them. Do you think you’re doing to be sick?”
He swallowed the lump of bread in his throat and shook his head. “They....”
He could make up an excuse. Tell this woman they were dead. That he was an orphan. Then maybe she’d stop asking questions.
“I don’t live with them anymore,” he said truthfully.
Heidi’s brows narrowed. “You look a little young to be a college student.”
Again, Connor missed the opportunity to lie. “I’m not...I don’t live with them…” He held his face over the bucket, waiting for the usual barrage of questions.
Did they kick you out?
Were they abusive?
On drugs?
He’d heard it all a million times before.
But instead of asking questions, Heidi put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow, yeah?”
Fat tears rolled off Connor’s nose and dropped into the bucket. Why couldn’t he stop crying?
Heidi wrapped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “You’re having a real rough time of it, huh?”
All Connor could do was nod.
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carey-pricemas · 8 years ago
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Our Story- Auston Matthews (By Anon)
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Alright y’all so I had this story submitted to me and it’s adorable and so I’m posting this anon (because they prefer it that way) so you guys should be getting FOUR updates today! (I’m counting this as one!) Without further ado…. Surprise Auston Matthews!
Warning: steamy (no descriptions promise), a couple of cusses
~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/
As we were driving there, I admitted to being nervous about what the ACC would look like, where we would sit, and if I would even enjoy the game. Nonetheless, I was happy to be there and held on to the fact that it meant a lot to my dad, which meant a lot to me.
They lost 2-1 to the Carolina Hurricanes. It didn’t bother me too much that they had lost. But my god, was I interested in hockey. I asked my dad a multitude of questions on the way home. And by the number of questions I had asked him about Auston Matthews, he could tell I had a little crush. It was that game that got me completely hooked. And that was something I had never experienced in my life.
Flash forward a couple months later. My life was boring. I loved the Leafs and was completely and absolutely obsessed in ways I’ve never been, however the winter break had just ended and I was in a slump. And it was about 2:45 in the morning and my dad knocked on my door.
What was he doing up? was my first thought.
“You wanna go to a leaf game?” he asked.
I counted down to the date. January 10 against NYR. No way were they winning, but my god that was the last thing that mattered to me. For some reason, I had a gut feeling to try and look a little prettier for this game. Try a little harder. And I did. I was so excited that day, in the car, walking into the ACC, and seeing all of the tons of Leafs fans that felt the same passion and love as I did.
It was the pregame warm-up. I had just finished eating my quick ACC dinner. I would have missed out on the warm-ups if I had a sit down meal.
I am so very thankful I didn’t.
The warm-ups started and I saw many little kids go up to the glass, trying to get the players’ attention, a puck, or literally anything. I wanted to go so badly, but I most definitely didn’t want to seem like a little kid. But my dad urged and basically forced me to go.
I excused myself through a bunch of crowding adults, and sat right there, in front of the boards. There they were. The Toronto Maple Leafs. The men I’ve been watching on my TV or computer screen literally every single day for the past few months. They were right in front of my eyes. It was like a dream. But I wasn’t dreaming, I was seriously there.
The first thing that happened was when I made eye contact with the one and only Nazem Kadri. Oh my fucking god. Then, Matt Hunwick gave a kid near me a puck. Matt fucking Hunwick can make a girl this warm inside?!? Time went on, and there he was. In the flesh.
Auston Matthews.
I kept repeating to myself, Auston Matthews is in front of your fucking face. He is seriously right there. A few moments passed by and he turned around to give some kids pucks.  Except he saw me. He really saw me. After throwing over a puck for the kids, our eyes met. His lips curved into a shy smile and he turned away for a second and then turned back still smiling. He looked as though he was laughing, but I couldn’t tell. All I could comprehend is that Auston Matthews has taken precious seconds of his time away to look at me. Me. After a few moments, He slowly skated away and joined the rest of his team in the warmups.
He was on the other side of the ice now, so that our faces could easily look at each other. Standing beside him was Morgan Rielly. Auston was bending forward, still looking at me as he talked to Morgan. Why was he smiling so much?!?! I almost felt as though he was part of some inside joke that I was not a part of. I kept trying to make myself look older and more mature, but I just felt stupid.
It was 3-1, pretty late in the 2nd period, and Auston had taken a penalty. Our seats were right by the penalty box and Auston and I were right next to each other. For 1 whole minute, I just stared at him. Admired every feature about him. Watched as he watched. I turned my head to look at the current PK happening in the game, and when I turned back to Auston, he was looking at me. With that same curvy lipped smile that made my insides melt. He started mouthing something, but I couldn’t comprehend.
Auston Matthews is mouthing something to you, understand what the fuck he’s saying!! was all that was going through my mind.
He was hiding a smile as he mouthed and gestured the sentence: ‘Meet me after the game.’ I gave him one of those “What? No way!” looks. All he did was smile and nod a little back. I felt like I was wasting my time.
‘Where?’ I mouthed as I put my hands up for extra expression.
‘Outside the dressing room’ he widely mouthed. I flashed him a “I’m-grateful-and-happy-as-fuck-about-this-but-so-shocked- look. And seconds later, I hear loud cheers and the buzzer go off. I watch Auston turn his attention away from me, and quickly to the game. Zach Hyman had scored a short-handed goal on Henrik Lundqvist and shrunk the Rangers’ lead by only 1 goal. It was like magic all in 2 minutes.
There was a huge part of me after this game that thought Auston would stand me up, being too pissed about the loss to show up or have to leave to be somewhere more important than with me. But I decided to take the chance anyways. My father said he wanted to go to the gift shop anyway.
He was just a clueless man.
Walking towards the room was nervous, horrifying, exciting and everything else.
Was he really going to be there? Am I making a horrible fool of myself?
As I walked in, there he was.
In the center of the room stood Auston Matthews, in a suit, hair still wet from the showers and with a surprising grin on his face. I immediately felt my cheeks burn up like fire and my mouth turned into a giant smile that I tried to hide. He spoke and said “You showed up.” His voice was calm and soft, and sounded just like his interviews I had watched online over and over again. I knew I had to say something clever back.
“I did… so did you, huh?” His smile turned into a little laugh that I mimicked as well. “I’m (Y/N)” I said as I calmly and delicately reached out my hand to him.
“(Y/N)…” he said with a suspicious smile. Auston freaking Matthews said my name. “I’m Auston, but I think you may know that already” he said with a sarcastic laugh underneath it.
And that’s how it began.
That night, Auston Matthews had asked me out. I went home, and literally didn’t stop smiling for one second. Not one. I thought of all the things that could happen. I thought of all the things we could have if he would let me love him. Moments of the night replayed over and over in my head until I eventually passed out, still smiling.
The next day, I woke up, and had to insure that the previous events actually occurred. I checked my phone, the first 2 notifications said his name. 2 texts from Auston Matthews and 1 snap chat.
This was real.
The first text he sent me was a good morning text.
Oh my god Auston Matthews said good morning!
The second was asking about our plans. I carefully answered just as I did last night.
Auston wasn’t too clear on what the plans were, but he told me the time, the attire, and how I was getting there (which would be his Uber, of course).
I dedicated the entire day to getting ready. Begged my friends to borrow expensive tops, re-did my makeup 3 times, spent 2 hours making sure every piece of hair looked nice, shaved every inch there was to shave and thought of how this night was going to turn out.
When I stepped out of the fancy Uber and met his gaze, I felt all my nerves fly away. He looked good in the night time. Hair slicked back, wearing a nice long dark coat and had his shiny watch sticking out. But he looked at me like I was a million dollars. I didn’t want to believe it, but there was a twinkle in his eyes when he looked at me.
He took me out to dinner first. I was thankful that I wore my white top with the dark coat over—it matched with Auston. The conversation seemed like it could never stop. Like as if we could talk and talk forever and we’d never get bored. I don’t think it really hit me that I was on a date with him. I mean, it couldn’t happen. He occasionally touched my hand, or swept his thigh against mine. We were in a darkly lit room, absolutely alone. It was the best, most unbelievable and romantic dinner of my life.
It was about 9:30 and we had just finished dinner. I thought maybe this was it? Maybe he would call an Uber to send me home because he thought I was nice and cute, but not as special as he’d had hoped. But to my surprise, just as we’d walked out of the restaurant, Auston took my hand and said “I have a surprise”. About a thousand ideas popped in my brain in the next few seconds.
He was very vague in where we were headed, but he promised I would love it, after hearing all about me during dinner.
We stepped out of the car, and I looked up and saw a ginormous sign that read “Air Canada Centre”. He watched as I read the sign and waited for my reaction.
Auston took me skating in the ACC. He got me skates and insured I was going to be okay skating. Growing up with two older brothers that play hockey like we breathe air, I most definitely knew how to skate. And skate well. This was something that genuinely impressed Auston. Like as if he’d assumed I was just some damsel in distress that had no clue how to skate.
Before we got on the ice, I looked at Auston with a sassy face and said “Is this where you take all your girls?” I had not one regret after saying it. I was the kind of girl to call a man out on something like that and if Auston wanted me, he was gonna have to want the real me.
He looked back at me with puppy eyes and said “You aren’t just any girl. You know that right?” He said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Auston showed me tricks, impressed me and held my hand as we skated on the ice for a couple hours at most. Towards the end, we got into deeper talks about our dreams and fears and how we felt about ourselves. I already felt absolutely and completely comfortable with him. “Alright you ready to go?” he asked.
“Yeah sure” I answered, already going towards the doors. Auston pulled at me and all at once took my face and brought his lips to mine. It was passionate, long and compared to nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I smelt his cologne and touched his soft face. He leaned away, smiled, and went back in for more.
Best. Kiss. Ever.
“You wanna go to my place?” Auston casually said as we were walking out of the ACC. I looked at him for a moment and paused. It that moment, I did feel the gravity of what I was doing. But in a very different way. I was on a date with a guy that was used to hooking up with a different girl every night. And he had just invited me over to his place. I wasn’t that type of girl, and I had to somehow break the news to Auston Matthews that I wouldn’t be a one night stand.
“Look… Auston-“
He interrupted. “Oh god (Y/N) that came out wrong. No-uh…no I didn’t mean it in that way at all.”
“Good” I laughed and felt at ease again. And so did he.
The end of the night was as magical as the beginning. We fell asleep cuddling, with him shirtless and myself in a big t-shirt and underwear.
~~~~~~
The next 5 days after that date, Auston and I hadn’t gone longer than an hour not texting, snap chatting, face timing or calling each other. We were both completely hooked and obsessed. I went to his place as often as I could. He had about 4 home games.
That next week, things took a hard turn downhill. Auston had a 10 day long road trip. He was unbelievably busy, on flights all the time and we’d lost about all contact. I thought maybe he’d moved on, or found someone new, or didn’t care enough to try to make us work. I was mad at myself for feeling upset about this because what more did I expect from him? Auston Matthews doesn’t have the time for some girl. But to blow me off like that? To get so deep with me and make me open up as I did? That’s just wrong.
A week later, I got a letter in the mail. The return address was Auston’s place. I quickly ripped open the envelope, mad, but also curious. It was 2 tickets to the Leafs game, January 25th. A little note was attached that said: Meet me outside the dressing room after the game. –Auston. I felt my cheeks burn up and my hands tremble. I stroked the writing with my hand. I was mad. Infuriated. How dare he go almost 2 weeks not talking to me and then send me 2 tickets to the game and expect me to jump at the opportunity? I knew I would end of going of course, but I was mad that he thought I would as well.
They won 4-0 and Auston had scored and was also the first star of the game. Are you kidding me? Ugh. Seeing him celebrate for the goals made me feel even more distant and separated from him. Almost as though I’d missed out on this huge part of his life.
But I showed up. I walked to the door of the dressing room and peeked in. There he was. I ensured my face looked stern and that he was understanding the fact that I was upset about what happened. He had a sorry look on his face.
“(Y/N)…” He breathed. “I- I’m so sorry.”
I quickly replied to him “Almost two weeks Auston. Not one phone call, not one text, nothing.” He just looked at me, with a loss of words. “You know that date actually meant something to me” I said as my voice grew louder. I felt steam burning off my body and my hands shaking as I spoke.
“It meant a lot to me too (Y/N)! I’ve never felt this way about anyone before! Not until I met you! And I know I’ve ruined it. I just don’t know how to do these types of relationships. I’ve gotten hurt in the past, thinking a girl wanted me for me, and not for the fame and money. But I was wrong. I’m just scared (Y/N) please forgive me.” He blurted out. I looked at him. His face looked desperate.
“You really hurt me Auston” I said, calmer.
“And I’ll never do it again” he said and he stomped over towards me, took my head in his hands and paused. Before kissing me, he looked right into my eyes and whispered “God I want you so badly” and took me in. We stood there and kissed and kissed. All of my negative emotions vanished into the air.
~~~~~~~
Auston flew me down to a game in Florida so I could see the game, and have 3 full, relaxing days together. I was in the penthouse, on my phone in Auston’s room waiting for him to get back with the directions to the restaurant we were going to that night. As I heard his footsteps, I heard another set as well.
A guy’s voice chimed out “Please Auston! I wanna meet the ‘famous’ girl already!” Who was this guy?!
Auston said in a firm and quieter voice “Mitch, shut up! And leave my room! You are not meeting her all you’re gonna do is scare her away.” My jaw dropped. Oh my god. Mitchell freaking Marner.
“Why do I have to shut up? Oh my god is she in here?!” he squealed. Quick footsteps shuffled to the door as it quickly flew open. Mitchell Marner was standing in front of me. “No way! Wow hi I’m Mitch Marner! You must be (Y/N)! SO amazing to finally meet the girl Auston won’t go two minutes without talking ab—“
“MITCH!” Auston yelled. I laughed it off, already sensing that Mitch was someone I was going to easily get along with.
That night turned into a triple date, with Auston, Mitch, Steph (Mitch’s girlfriend), Matt Martin, his girlfriend named Sydney, and myself. The girls were so fun and easy to talk to, and the boys, well they were boys. They made jokes all night about how they’ve been waiting for Auston to finally get a girlfriend to triple date with. They told me tons and tons of stories about how Auston couldn’t go long without bringing me up and how secretive he was about our text messages. My face lit up, as Auston put his head down, being shy and a bit embarrassed of how dorky he was about us. It made me feel so good knowing that Auston Matthews felt that way about ME. And that it was only a few weeks ago that Auston was a guy on my TV screen. We met up with most of the rest of the team that night and I felt really good about how all of the introductions went.
“So… How’d I do?” I asked Auston while swinging our intertwined hands.
“They loved you. A lot.”
“Really?!” I said excitedly. He could tell how badly I wanted to make a good impression on Auston’s teammates. Auston took me by the waist and flung me onto the bed. We hadn’t had sex yet and he was in no way pressuring me, but every time he did something like that, I felt as though he really wanted that night to be the night.
He saw that hint of alarm in my eyes and slowed everything down. My senses settled, however I took a moment to ponder my emotions on having sex with Auston and why I was so scared. I’d never done it, and I’ve always thought of my virginity to be a sacred thing to myself that I would only give to someone I knew wouldn’t hurt me. My brain quickly thought of a perfect, romantic plan to surprise Auston and make tonight the night.
I got in the shower and quickly went over my legs, washed my body twice, and put in way too much conditioner.
I wanted to smell nice, okay?
I got out and quickly dried my hair with a towel so that I had a fresh look. Before turning out of the bathroom, I paused to take a look in the mirror. I let myself be nervous for a quick moment, and then confidently walked out of the bathroom.
I was in only a towel.
The lights were dimmed and we were in a beautiful penthouse. Auston took his eyes off of his phone to meet his gaze with mine. His eyes quickly widened and then narrowed. He looked at me like I was a piece of art, and that was something I was grateful for.
“Hey” I quietly said.
“You’re beautiful” he said in a low voice. He must have been able to see a look on my face that I hadn’t had before, because Auston knew what I wanted to do. I sat down beside him on the bed. He took my face and passionately kissed me. He then leaned out and took off his shirt. I placed my hand on his abs as I always did when he took off his shirt. He smiled and kissed me again. He slowly lifted me so I was able to straddle him. He leaned out and quietly whispered “Are you sure?”
I looked at him straight in the eyes and said “Definitely”. And the night continued to be as special as we both had hoped it would be.
~~~~
Auston was goalless in 8 games and he was emotionally down. But he had my support and he knew that. I called him before and after all games and would stay on the phone when it was dead silent, just so he knew I was there when he didn’t want to talk. We became closer, and he trusted me with everything he had.
~~~
I wake up to Auston lightly nudging my arms and chest, which was sprawled out on his body. He quietly—although not whispering— said “(Y/N)”. It sounded important and serious. I moan a little and open my eyes. It was almost pitch black. I see the clock and it reads 3:49 am.
I furrow my brows and manage to moan out “Yeah what’s up?”
There’s a pause… “I love you” he says.
I froze.
Love. Auston loves me. Do I love him back?
I thought about all the special moments we’d experienced together. I thought about how much we had grown as a couple. I also thought about how I’ve never said those words before. And that it would have to mean a lot. I realized it was a long moment of silence after he’d said it. And that if I was going to say something, the time was now. “I love you” I said now, clearly. I feel Auston’s chest fall as a sign of relief. We silently intertwine our bodies even closer than they were before. Before I quickly fall asleep, I take a moment to think about what had just happened. I knew why I didn’t say ‘I love you too’. I wanted Auston to feel like I wasn’t saying it in return to him. I wanted him to know that I equally felt the same way, and that I had loved him for a while. I dozed off on his chest, happy and in love.
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Now how cute was that??? Let me know what you thought so I can let the author know! Up next: Max Domi! (Really)
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andrewuttaro · 6 years ago
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New Look Sabres: GM 53 - CAR - Chasing Two
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We meet again, Canes of Carolina. Your 53 is our 53 now as we meet for the 53rd game of the season. We already did playoff trash talk for the Canes but I got a feeling there will be more coming down the stretch here. Why do we hate the Hurricanes so much right now? The Skinner stuff is behind us and I suspect his extension will soon be as well. It’s probably the gull of a team as consistently bad as Carolina, perhaps longer than Buffalo has been bad, deciding this is the season to get in our fucking way. Unless one of Pittsburgh, Boston or Montreal hits the skids real hard down the stretch it’s you, me and Columbus for the one wildcard spot left in the East. So fuck you Carolina: this Sabres team has been shit for a solid two months straight but whatever hope I can muster that they still got a chance at the playoffs this year I will sharpen into a fine shiv and run into this cage match with. That hope could have died tonight. For some of you reading this it may have. This game was about chasing two straight wins – two straight wins which would be this club’s first two wins in a row since December. Perhaps they ultimately didn’t get there because they were doing too much chasing so to speak. But what occurred last night was not the performance of a club accepting its fate and tapping out of the playoff race. What happened last night was enough to make the Spartans at Thermopylae proud. Sure, once you explained ice hockey to them and they observed it long enough to understand what being good at it looks like they may have had some thoughts on the Sabres first period and most of their third; but CHIN UP I say to you! Chin up because this Sabres club is not going down without a fight! Honey, we’re going down swinging!  
The Carolina Hurricanes came out shooting like lax southern gun laws to start the first: every puck that a Sabre was not on was scooped up by Hurricane and blown into the zone closest to Linus Ullmark (Thanks Coach, I knew you would make the right goalie decision). The Canes did what any team who watches this Buffalo club knows is the Sabres biggest weakness as of late: turnovers, unforced and not. The team from south of the Mason-Dixon Line capitalized in this brutal stretch when North Carolina’s favorite soft boy Sebastian Aho served up the juiciest pass from behind the net to a streaking Justin Faulk. Ullmark couldn’t get to the other post in time and Faulk buried it. Well beach bodies: up here in New York we got this thing called ice, the game is actually played on it. What followed shortly after the Faulk goal was a penalty on definitely-moonlighting-as-a-vampire Jaccob Slavin which led to a powerplay for the home team that froze Carolina up like a Buffalo Ice Storm. The powerplay was fruitless but the Sabres poured shots on Curtis McElhinney for the rest of the period. Teuvo Teravainen tallied a second goal for Carolina early in the second period. At this point in the night I’m listening to the game on the radio driving up the 190. WGR 550 has these musical interludes as the broadcast returns from break and at this 2-0 dire moment in the second period one of those interludes was a section of “Slide” by Goo Goo Dolls. My throat got real dry and I shed a tear. Is it because I’m an emotional wreck paying attention to the Sabres these days? NO! But a good guess. NO, it’s because I visualized the playoffs like Jack tells us to and I felt it slipping away! But then what happened? Jack’s team came back.
HUT HUT, FIND A HOLE! The McElhinney wall has to come down! FIND A HOLE! Ristolainen from the line: save; puck to Conor Sheary in front: save; puck to Evan Rodriguez who holds and sweeps that puck into the hole like the beautiful Canadian Sniper he is! Now the Canes really froze up like they’d never seen ice before because seven minutes later resident Dad-Bod Jason Pominville collected his own rebound and tapped an equalizer past McElhinney. Tie game you fair weather mother fuckers! Believe it or not it’s hot here for a couple months in each year and you know what I spend that time doing? Oh, not going to the playoffs? You’re funny: you’re a real piece of work for giving more of a shit about NASCAR than the variable 1970s strong man competition of a gun show y’all have for a lineup! Oh, but when hockey players clap a little and slide down the ice into the goal like it’s a slip-and-slide after wins all you guys come running to the arena! I hope y’all don’t make the playoffs just because you’re a bunch of fucking ungrateful slow talkers who like Duke! The game was tied! It was tied going into the third! And then what happened? Well: a relative menagerie of frat-boy-looking Hurricanes capitalized on the Sabres doing Sabres things like turning over the puck and chasing it around like they’re fishing catch-and-release! First it was wrestling team captain and beer-pong champion of the Carolinas Greg McKegg who polished in a loose puck behind Ullmark after being giving ten fucking years to put it in and still bounced it off the post! Then Jeff Skinner had a fucking hulk moment and realized the profundity of the situation he was in and flew off on a breakaway to guide the puck in like a clumsy baby giraffe. Oh no, I know it was art. Please sign soon, Jeff.
Stop those warm feelings for sweet sweet Jeffery because Fergus, Ontario’s High School Quarterback and favorite ginger son Brock McGinn cleaned up a Jordan Martinook rebound right in front of Ullmark to get the visitors ahead 4-3. Do they even have American Football in small town Ontario? Whatever because here comes the President of the punchable face club Nino Niederreiter to capitalize on the powerplay and put the Canes up 5-3 with five minutes left in regulation. Now here is really the moment when I realized this team isn’t going down without a fight: down by two goals (again, which is a concerning problem all its own) this team did not quit. Jeff Skinner emerged from the box beaten but not defeated. But before he gets his time against his former team it’s time for irony to a drop kick you in the balls. Marco Scandella, in a move that will certainly earn him starts for the rest of the season over far more deserving defensemen, gets the puck from Sam Reinhart and shoots low. The puck went in and it was a one goal game now. Irony has a name and it is Marco Scandella. Perhaps it was too late as time now ticked into the double digits in regulation with the Sabres down by one. Guess who you butter-binging, Trump-voting motherfuckers: JEFF MOTHER FUCKING SKINNER! Collect the puck, toe drag, bender: tie Game! It’s like the third act of fucking Miracle beating the team in the red jersey! There was 56 seconds left on the clock! This one goes to OT. And there, well there Teuvo Teravainen streaks into the Sabres defensive zone 2-on-0 and dekes out Ullmark for the game winner. That’s the way the cookie crumbles in this league: one good rush in OT and it’s all over. Carolina wins 6-5.
The Chase for Two straight wins falls flat; but you know what didn’t fall flat? Yea, the Buffalo Sabres. Yeah, they really stunk up most of the third and looked like they were playing hot potato with the puck for most of the first but you know what: that was one hell of a comeback, two if we’re counting game deficits here. Imagine Jeff Skinner pots the OT winner for a hat trick and the Sabres get two points out of this game instead of just one. It’s a whole different conversation then, isn’t it? I’m not rationalizing the many mistakes or playing the what-if game. I’m calling the glass half full and I don’t know about you but I’m not holding my breath tomorrow waiting for Jason Botterill to make a trade as if 95% of the trades he could reasonably make would have any effect on this team down the stretch. We got what we got right now folks and trust me; I am dying for the playoffs too. What happened last night was not nothing and we didn’t get nothing for it either. Carolina, you better watch your back because we’re breathing down it and every game between now and March 16th is going to be an assault on your chances to take that spot from Columbus. The Sabres can certainly get three points out of this weekend’s two matchups and Carolina only has one game in that same stretch so there’s a scenario where we’re sitting here Monday morning and the Sabres are 1 point back of that playoff spot and ahead of Carolina again. Yea, I’m not broken yet and neither should you be. Honey, we’re going down swinging.
Of course everyone in the locker room is going to be disappointed with that result and that emotion is good even if Savior Sam is misdirecting it at Ullmark. Phil Housley was the only postgame interview I was at all embarrassed by. He’s the one misusing players out the wazoo and throwing forward line combinations at Velcro board and seeing what sticks. Put out your best lineup, Phil. This is the team now and I’m not saying it is good enough to make the playoffs having won 9 of its last 28 games but teams not good enough make the playoffs all the time, you can ask New Jersey about that. And I refuse to hop on the locomotive of self-loathing Sabres twitter seems to be on. This game just gave me too much to chew on. Well like, comment and share this blog even if you think I am insane. With this team: sometimes I feel like it. This frickin team! They hurt me over and over and lord knows I’ll still be watching them at my in-laws this weekend. This frickin eternally ass team: Oh the shit I would do for a playoff berth. OH THE SHIT I WOULD DO! Go Sabres! If they make it by one point this game is going to be my masterpiece. Oh god I need them to make the playoffs. Go Sabres! I’m going to repeat it like I’m trying to remember it: Go Sabres! Go Sabres! Don’t go breaking my heart.
Thanks for reading.
P.S. Sara Civ is a great follow on twitter. She is one of the better hockey beat reporters out there and if it weren’t for her covering that frickin team I’d probably be mentioning her more.
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1inawesomewonder · 5 years ago
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When you watch 9 and 10 year-old kids play youth ice hockey in a tournament miles from anywhere, how exciting can it be? I mean half of these kids have been playing hockey or even skating for less than 3 seasons. But there we were, parents, kids, players from various teams, coaches, representing all ages and sizes, each edging closer to the glass just to see how this game would finish.
The best part, and I really mean, the best part is watching the kids be kids. Kids learning second by second. They win, they lose. They fail and they succeed. They try stuff. They don’t pay attention and then at the same time they experience some of the most overwhelming situations in their young lives. They are so very alive with whatever is pulsing through their young minds. And they do all of it right in front of our eyes. They don’t need us yelling at them, or talking them up, or talking them down. They are in their new and ever-changing world out on the ice and if we allow it, it’s a safe place to both succeed and fail. Frankly, they usually don’t need to be told which way their moment went. They know. For us, it’s up to us to support them and enjoy the moment especially since these days go fast, and don’t last too long.
So let’s get to the game. This afternoon the Flames played Acton-Boxborough in the consolation game to determine 3rd and 4th place finishes for the tournament. The game’s ending will go down as exciting and memorable no matter which side you were on. Some of the game could have been categorized as sloppy and sluggish, especially early on. But the action just kept getting better as the game went on. The Flames were playing their best hockey of the day in the final period.
1st Period
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Manchester Flames vs. Acton-Boxborough in the 3rd place consolation game at Jay Peak. Opening face-off.
Austin “The Little Engine That Could” used his speed to get behind the defense.
He sold the forehand to set up the goalie.
He got the goalie to commit to his left, and quickly shifted to the backhand.
Then Austin ran out of time and space with a wide open net, but he would make adjustments as he went along.
Luke calls for the puck from his opponent in hopes that he will get a good pass to set up a shot on goal.
I took this picture as The Mighty Fin stepped into the bleachers to get in my way so we couldn’t see Austin’s shot get deflected wide of the net.
Drew and Theodore look poised to score a goal and tie the game at 1-1, but nothing came of this scoring chance.
Luke, Austin, and Jordan line up for an offensive zone face-off.
Luke skates through the corner but wonders, internally distant, “Is eye black really necessary indoors?”
Austin deployed one of his adjustments when he purposely decreased his shooting angle to really get the goaltender thinking.
But with perfect execution of his calculations, he tickled the twine to tie the game at 1-1.
Proof that the game was now tied, 1-1.
Theodore forces the AB defender to move the puck quickly while Logan hangs out at his post. AB had taken a 2-1 lead by this time.
Moments later, Drew snaps a shot into the net from the slot with Luke and Austin in support.
The period would end with the score tied at 2-2.
2nd Period
Let me also add to this second period story if I may. First of all, by this point in the game I was getting frustrated for a number of reasons. One, the Flames appeared to be playing at a level that was about as inspiring as the story-line in Rocky VIII. Two, I was surrounded by Acton-Boxborough players from other age groups, their coaches, and some parents. Which wasn’t terrible except when trying to maneuver for better angles to take pictures. The kids were older, kind of funny in a chorus of voices going through changes in their teen years kind of a way. I was frustrated with the Flames and all their, feet not moving, swings and misses at the puck being handled by an AB player, which led to countless odd-man rushes on offense. Since Travis was playing goal at this end of the ice in the second period, some heckling began from the AB kids. It was only slightly condescending if not eventually complimentary. It went something like this: One kid starts with, “Ok goalie let’s see what you’re made of.” Another kid beside him asks, “What are you made of, cheese?” Original kid, “Are you made of Swiss cheese?” Then Travis makes a save. Kid, “Hey goalie, are you made of cheese?” Other kid, “Maybe it’s cheddar cheese.” Another kid, “I like cheddar cheese”. I am thinking, “Maybe it’s Vermont’s own Extra Sharp Cheddar Cheese from Cabot”.
Then the kids were yelling for penalties to be called on everything. But, this was about the most honest heckling I have ever heard. Kid, “Come on ref, that’s a trip!” Other kid, “You gotta call tripping! That’s tripping!” Me, without looking away from my lens, “No it’s not!” Kid, “Okay, that’s not a trip, but we want it to be called!” I am not kidding, this happened about half a dozen times with tripping, checking, and offsides. It was hilarious actually.
Speaking of checking. Jax was called for an original checking call and a series of sequels that actually would rival the Rocky movies. He must have really paid attention to the free positioning clinic that was offered the day before.
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Travis makes a save early in the second period. This may have been when Swiss turned to cheddar.
Drew and Gavin help out on defense while Colby pulls a trick out of Kaveney the Magnificent’s book of grand illusion behind the net. Gavin’s facial expressions cannot be contained by a full face mask.
Face-off photo as required by anyone taking pictures at a hockey game. On a different and unimportant note, based on simple elevation assessment, I wondered if the AB coach on the left is #37’s Dad.
After a nice deke, this shot beat Travis and gave AB a 3-2 lead.
I am not making this stuff up.
I love pictures like this. Youth hockey at it’s best. So much life. So much fun. You can see it in their eyes and their strides. Oh, to skate fast and feel the ice ever so slightly give way to razor sharp blades and the perfect sound that it makes.
Drew circles inside the blue line. All at the same time, coaching is happening, resting between shifts, and competition on the ice.
AB scored from the blue line to make it 4-2. I didn’t post a picture at the request of Travis’s agent. That, and I didn’t actually take a picture of the goal.
His Magnificence up close and personal.
The Flames trailed 4-2 at the end of two periods. You don’t have to look close to notice that the Flames will begin the final period down by a pair of goals, and killing a penalty just to increase difficulty.
3rd Period
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The Flames get together before the 3rd period and discuss how to make a come back. Somewhere during the game, Travis came to the bench and handed his Dad a tooth that he had pulled out himself, on the ice.
With the distraction of the nagging tooth out of the way, Travis turned his game up a notch or two.
These next few pictures are interesting. First, Austin sends the puck toward the crease with Drew and Theodore awaiting.
The AB goalie plays the puck back between his own legs.
Theodore stands guard while Drew and Austin sweep at the puck like they are in the Curling World Championships.
I did mention to Drew after the game, that it’s a lot easier to score when you are standing inside the goal with the puck.
Lots of time left to tie the game, right?
Travis made the initial save on a heavy shot from AB #37 but couldn’t keep the swarm to the rebound at bay.
So, less than a minute after scoring, the Flames found themselves trailing by two goals again.
The AB goalie, Mike I believe, played really well. Here he snags a shot from Logan to keep the Flames from cutting into their lead.
The big guy had a great scoring chance to put this game out of reach.
Travis made the stop and then AB starting firing players at the net and Travis stopped those shots too.
The Little Engine That Could just kept willing himself and his team to get back into this game.
Austin beat the goalie to the glove side on this breakaway and gave the Flames a huge boost!
Under 2 minutes to play and the Flames trailed by a single goal.
Then Austin struck again with this bouncing shot from a tough angle.
The puck flattened out at the goalie’s feet and snuck through the five-hole.
That my friends is the tying goal all snug inside the goal.
Tie game with just over a minute left to play. This after trailing, 1-0, 2-1, 3-2, 4-2, 4-3, 5-3, and 5-4. Unbelievable!
Shootout
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The big guy led off and Travis held the fort.
Austin gave the Flames a 1-0 lead in the shootout on their first attempt.
One round, Flames lead 1-0.
Travis got some help from the iron on this shot as the puck bounced away from the net.
Drew fires his shot but the goalie swallowed it up. Still 1-0 after two rounds.
Travis “lost” his stick on this save, but a save it was.
Logan fired a low shot that the goalie deflected wide with a stick save. Still, the Flames led 1-0 after three rounds.
This shooter was very patient and slipped a shot under Travis and through the five-hole to knot the shootout at 1-1.
The Mighty Fin skates in with a 1-1 tie on the board and rips a low, hard shot to the blocker side.
Finley hits the back of the net with her shot to give the Flames a 2-1 lead after four rounds. Kids from the WTM team (eventual Champs) and their fans were cheering wildly for the Flames as the puck hit the twine.
Travis slams the door shut in round five. Flames win the shootout 2-1.
Flames Win!
Flames Win!!
Flames Win!!!
Flames fans celebrate as well.
The Flames won the game 6-5 (2-1 in the shootout). They took home the 3rd place prize and finished the tournament with a 2-2 record. They played well. They played together, on and off of the ice. It was really great to see the kids and families come together over the weekend. We had a great time and I am pretty sure that was the same for the whole Flames contingent at Jay Peak this weekend.
  Front row (L-R): Austin, Drew, Travis, Gavin, James, Jordan. Second row (L-R): Colby, Jax, Logan, Luke, Theodore, Garrett, Finley, Ian. Back row (L-R): Coach Scott, Head Coach Nick, Coach Austin, Coach Tim.
Sincerely, I am honored to be asked to the ice and into the locker room to take these pictures for the team. I am just another Dad, with no business on the ice or behind the scenes. Thank you.
I left the locker room as quick as I could so the team could revel in that sacred place, The Room. As I walked out, Coach Nick got down on one knee to be equal to the kids level. And behind me he led one last ear shattering raucous celebratory cheer with his team, and they all joined in. It was awesome and left a lump in my throat as the door swung shut behind me. Great job Flames! Congratulations on your tournament play.
2010 Flames Come Back To Win in a Stunning Shootout Victory at Jay Peak When you watch 9 and 10 year-old kids play youth ice hockey in a tournament miles from anywhere, how exciting can it be?
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ebhenah · 6 years ago
Text
Shore Leave Ch.3
Chairs vs Booth
Part 1 Part 2
Lance grinned as he watched his friends and teammates giving each other a hard time and unwind. They had managed to find a bar that was safe enough to meet Shiro's standard, but also wild enough to actually have the potential for some real fun. The bar had a table game that was similar to what most of the Paladins knew as 'air hockey' although it took four players and there were three pucks to keep in play and it had a more complex scoring system. It was a ton of fun, though and the six of them kept trading off who was playing and who was cheering. Pidge had managed to convince the bartender to let them play their own music, and then with Hunk's help, somehow jury-rigged the sound system so it could interface with their earth-tech. So, currently, there was K-Pop blasting in an alien bar- not his first choice for a shore leave soundtrack, but they were taking turns and SOMEHOW K-Pop was what Shiro (of all people) listened to. He hadn't had enough alcohol for that to make sense... which reminded him. "Another round!" he called out to the bartender who made a gesture he was really hoping meant the same thing as a thumbs up.
Within a few moments, a little trapdoor in the table slid open and 6 identical drinks rose up on a platform. After a few minutes, empty glasses sort of just... dissipated, maybe? Or phased? Teleported? He had no idea. They were there, and then they weren't. Sometimes alien tech was so cool... Great! He was starting to think like Pidge. He picked up one of the drinks. It was odd to look at. He'd seen layered drinks and shots back on Earth and understood how they worked. It wasn't too complicated to figure out that with careful pouring, the thickest liquid would sink and the lightest would rest on top of it. This drink, though? It really messed with his head. It was called something Allura said translated to 'rainbow nebula'. Most of the drink looked like black tar, but swirling within it (even when no one was stirring it!) were streaks of red and blue, and little sparkles of light. It was really cool to look at. Flavor-wise, it reminded him of a less-sweet hurricane- fruity and potent. He sipped his drink and watched the game, chuckling when Allura scored big and excitedly pounced on Hunk, her white hair glowing in the blueish light of the bar as the yellow Paladin caught her and spun her around as if she weighed nothing.
"You're staring at her again."
He startled, damn Keith was QUI-ET when he moved now, he hadn't even noticed when he'd joined him in the booth.
"See? Ninja. Nin-Ja," he snarked, trying to catch his breath. "I am watching the game. Not staring."
"If you say so," the other guy said neutrally, taking a drink for himself.
"I do say so," Lance said, slurping his drink through his straw.
"Not trying to start a fight," Keith sighed, sounding exhausted. "Just figured you might not want HER to notice that you were staring."
"She can't notice something that isn't happening," he pointed out. "Hey- did YOU know Shiro likes K-pop?"
Keith nodded, "he says he likes how energetic and happy it is- reminds him that there is more to life than work."
"Oh," he chewed on that thought for a minute, "yeah... I guess that makes sense."
"Not me," Keith continued, "it's too... perky."
"Oh yeah, it is definitely perky," Lance laughed, "I am more of a rock and roll guy." The conversation fizzled out there, stretching into silence. Keith bent one leg to hook his heel of the edge of the booth, unconsciously mirroring Lance's own perch. They just... sat there. Not talking, not bouncing to the frenetically upbeat song, not really doing anything. It was oddly, comfortable. Before long Pidge wandered over and collected the remaining four drinks.
"Keith- your turn for music," eyes wide, Pidge leaned over the table, "PLEASE... I cannot handle more of this. Shiro keeps singing along and it is messing with my head."
"He's singing? THIS?" Lance laughed, "that is so surreal."
"Right?!"
"Yeah. He does that. Sing, I mean. Haven't heard it in ages though. Alright, alright. I'm on it," Keith relented, rising from his seat and heading to the bar as Pidge headed back to the game.
The K-Pop was replaced with angry sounding rock music that Lance had never heard before and a few moments later, Keith swapped places with Hunk, and Hunk headed over to join Lance at the table. "Having fun?"
"So much fun," Hunk said, dropping down into the chair opposite the booth. "This was a great idea."
"Who knows how to unwind and is unbelievably gorgeous?" Lance asked, his voice cocky and expression completely over-the-top, as he jerked his thumbs towards his chest, "this guy, that's who!"
Hunk cracked up. He could always count on Hunk to get his jokes. "More drinks?"
"Definitely," Lance nodded. "I like how you think my man!" He repeated his little routine with the barkeep and sure enough, within a couple of minutes, 6 more drinks rose up at the table. "Love this trick."
"The drink delivery system?" Hunk confirmed. "Right? It's so obvious, but so cool!"
"You drunk yet? Because I have had like 5 of these things and I got nuthin' unless you count my nose being itchy."
"My nose is itchy, too!" Hunk exclaimed.
"Time to step it up with the drinks." Lifting their glasses, they counted down from 3 and then each tossed back their drinks, slamming the empty glasses onto the table.
"Is that? Did you just? O. M. G. Drinking contest!" Pidge squealed. "We all HAFTA have a drinking contest!"
"Pidge, I'm not sure that's such a good..." Shiro protested weakly as the tiny Paladin started herding everyone back to the table.
"No, no. It will be awesome!," Pidge insisted, shoving the Princess into on free seat and Shiro into another before pushing Keith into the booth and sliding in beside him. "Ok- here are the rules. It's chairs verses booth. Lance- you are racing Allura. Keith- you face-off against Hunk. Shiro- I am racing you. We order a round, we each take a glass and at the same time we chug. The first one from each competing pair to slam their empty glass onto the table wins the point. The first one from each pair to call done and stop drinking forfeits 2 points. Winning team gets... umm... winning teams gets... a prize, we need a prize- like a trophy..."
"Pidge, I really don't think-" Shiro tried again.
"Ooh! I know!" Pidge hopped up, darted away, and returned triumphantly in a dizzyingly short time. "THIS!" The whole table shook from the force of the 'prize' being planted on it. It was an empty drink bottle with two necks that bore the logo of the bar they were in on its label.
"Garbage?" Allura asked, "we win garbage?"
"It's a symbol," Pidge countered. "Work with me here!"
"Oh I get it. Like a trophy," Hunk piped up.
"Yes! Yes, exactly- a trophy!" Pidge looked so proud, rejoining the 'booth team'.
"There's only 4 drinks here," Keith pointed out.
"2 more rounds, plus 2 drinks," Lance called out.
"Everyone understand the rules?" asked Pidge, earning 5 dry looks.
"Drink fast," Allura said, "simple enough."
The drinks appeared and everyone took one, setting it in front of themselves.
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1inawesomewonder · 7 years ago
Text
From the ICENTER in Salem, NH –
Michael Fortin looks to beat Wes Anderson and get to the net for a shot. (Photo by Charron)
Have you ever felt like you are a part of an event that appears to have been a massive afterthought? That’s kind of how it felt in Salem this evening. Playing on the lower rink, where the clock is difficult to read, the puck marred glass above the boards severely impairs everyone’s vision, and the facilities are better suited for Middle School hockey or a practice, the main event of Timberlane hosting Goffstown in a NHIAA Division II regular season game seemed completely out of place.
The good news, if you are a Goffstown Grizzlies hockey fan, is that the Grizzlies are 3-1 on the season. The bad news is that the Goffstown squad often times has looked like they are trying to be surgical and sharp, but have nothing but dull tools to work with. For what it’s worth, the visiting Grizzlies managed to get 34 shots on sophomore netminder, Joshua Petrin, but for the second year in a row, Petrin turned away 30+ shots. Last season Petrin made 34 saves on 37 shots in a 3-1 loss to Goffstown. This season, he snagged 32 of 34 shots in a 2-1 loss.
The Grizzlies were around the net all night, as seen here with Grady Chretien, Michael Fortin, and a hidden Grizzlie. Seth MacLaughlin, Colin Scully, Andrew Bedard, and a hidden Owl were all back to help defend with Joshua Petrin in net. (Photo by Charron)
Timberlane kept coming, never gave up, and made everything the Grizzlies got, tough to come by. Goffstown certainly had the better of the play, but really had very little to show for it. When Jared Knight scored for the Owls on an assist from Jake Murphy with 10:15 to play in the game, it was almost hard to believe this was a one-goal game in the 3rd period. The Grizzlies though, they laid down a whole bunch of dots, but they could not connect nearly any of them.
Colby Gamache rushes with the puck. (Photo by Charron)
Eric DesRuisseaux has been playing better each game. (Photo by Charron)
Kyle LaSella returned to the net against Timberlane and allowed just one goal on 16 shots. (Photo by Charron)
Brett Branscum races up the ice against the Owls. (Photo by Charron)
Jake Noonan is an integral part of the Grizzlies defensive core this year. (Photo by Charron)
Brett Lassonde rips a shot against the Owls. Brett was a +2 on the night. (Photo by Charron)
Grady Chretien got the visitors on the board with 5:07 left in the first period on an accurate shot that beat Joshua Petrin in goal for the Owls. After one period, the Grizzlies led 1-0, and outshot Timberlane 13-7. Goffstown killed 3 penalties in a six minute span ending the first period and for the first 5 minutes of the 2nd period.
Noah Charron hunts the puck between Christopher Longchamp and Cameron Rouleau. (Photo by Charron)
Somehow in between all of the penalties, the Grizzlies cashed in on an even-strength goal. Max Lajeunesse ended up getting the goal, with assists going to Colin Burke and Colby Gamache. Goffstown had possessed the puck in the offensive zone for quite some time before Max buried his 3rd goal of the season giving the Grizzlies a 2-0 lead. Later in the period, Goffstown would get a couple power play opportunities of their own, including a 5-on-3 advantage. Goffstown could not add to their lead. Good shifts from Noah Charron, Sebastian Beal, and Griffin Cook were backed up by Max Lajeunesse, Colby Gamache, and Brett Branscum, then add hustling Michael Fortin and smooth skating Grady Chretien, but Goffstown just could not click on enough cylinders to add to their lead. Jacob Noonan, Brett Lassonde, Evan McCuaig, Colin Burke, and Eric DesRuisseaux played a more conservative game from the defensive end with many less risky rushes up the ice than in previous games.
Griffin Cook in the offensive end against Jacob Heckman. (Photo by Charron)
The result kept the odd man rushes to a minimum even though Jacob Heckman, William Downes, and Matthew Lanceleve skated hard. Heckman is always a threat with his speed, but the Grizzlies almost always managed to have a player back to get between Heckman and clean breakaways.
Kyle LaSella got his first start in net for Goffstown this season, giving Madeline Sage an evening off. LaSella played well. He made 15 saves on 16 shots, including a point blank save after a Grizzlie turnover directly in front of his net.
The Grizzlies do not play another regular season game until 2018, but will play games on December 26 at 4pm, December 27 at 2pm, and December 28 at 8pm in the Manchester High School Christmas Tournament at JFK Coliseum in Manchester.
Sebastian Beal tries to get to the net with a bouncing puck and Matthew Lanceleve in pursuit. (Photo by Charron)
In other NHIAA Division II action tonight, Keene played Bow in a rematch of last season’s championship game with the Blackbirds taking the contest, 6-2, behind a hat-trick from Tim Greenwood. Keene is now 2-1 while Bow dropped to 1-2. Dover was upset by Portsmouth-Newmarket, 5-4, dropping Dover to 3-1. Oyster River went to Kingswood and skated away with a 7-1 win to improve to 2-0. Windham continued to roll, raising their record to 4-0, with a 6-1 win at Merrimack.
NHIAA Hockey:
Updated records.
Goffstown (3-1) @ Timberlane (0-2)
ICENTER, Salem, NH December 20, 2017. 7:00PM Start:
Summary:
Goals:
Goffstown: 1-1-0 = 2
Timberlane: 0-0-1 = 1
Shots:
Goffstown: 13-11-10 = 34 Timberlane: 7-5-4 = 16
Scoring:
1st Goffstown at 9:49. Even. Grady Chretien (2) unassisted.
2nd Goffstown at 1:02. Even. Max Lajeunesse (3) from Colin Burke (5) Colby Gamache (2).
3rd Timberlane at 10:15. Even. Jared Knight (1) from Jake Murphy (1).
Special Teams:
Goffstown Power Play: 0 for 3. Timberlane Power Play: 0 for 5.
Saves:
Goffstown: Kyle LaSella 15 of 16.
Timberlane: Joshua Petrin 32 of 34.
Hockey: Goffstown 2 @ Timberlane 1 From the ICENTER in Salem, NH - Have you ever felt like you are a part of an event that appears to have been a massive afterthought?
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