#pittsburgh childhood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jackabbotsfakeleg · 1 month ago

Text

As Above, So Below I Chapter 1- I'll Tell You Everything is Copacetic

Synopsis: Two attendings, one new psychologist working both the day and night shifts on a rotation. You could have sworn you heard both of them call “dibs,” and you’re more than willing to entertain the both of them. Pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Fem!Reader and Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader Word count: 2.1K Warnings: Talk of mental illness and other psychological things, violence, dark humor, and some smut along the way :) A/N: I couldn’t decide between Robby and Abbot, so I present you with BOTH. Chapter 2 Chapter 3

As Above, So Below. "Quod est superius est sicut quod inferius, et quod inferius est sicut quod est superius." -- That which is above is like to that which is below, and that which is below is like to that which is above.

It based on the notion of Hermeticism; the idea that God was a magician.

The religious and philosophical idea that the universe is broken into the Macrocosm (the universe), and the microcosm (the individual).

That which is above, corresponds to that which is below in order to accomplish the miracle of one thing. In simplest terms—whatever happens in the spiritual world, also happens in the physical world, and vice versa.

Your spiritual and physical world existed on two equal and opposite sides; day shift and night shift.

Two very different shifts.

Two very different paces, senses of humor, and inside jokes

Two very different attending doctors.

And you were vying for the attention of both of them.

Part 1: I'll Tell You Everything is Copacetic

The promotion from the career you had grown comfortable, came unexpectedly and as the result of a physical altercation with a patient. You, the staff psychologist at a maximum-security prison, had come face-to-face with a makeshift weapon during a routine therapy session. The irony, which had not been lost on you, had been that your patient had been so worried that he’d never get out of prison, he had no insight into the fact that stabbing someone in the back with a sharpened toothbrush, would surely end in those exact consequences. He was one of your favorite patients. It was a real “Et tu, Brute” type of moment, both figuratively and literally.

The thing they don't tell you about being stabbed in prison, is that the threat needs to be cleared before life-saving measures can be started. There you were, on the ground, bleeding from a stab wound that barely missed your spinal cord, waiting for EMS to arrive, while you almost choked to death on the pepper spray canister that had been deployed by security as they watched on in horror. The other thing they don't tell you about being stabbed in prison, is how motherfucking painful it is and how that trauma will likely linger long after the pain.

Leaving that job wasn’t a suggestion as much as it was a directive. You were medically cleared after 12 weeks, but the optics of the entire situation made it difficult for management to move forward without shouldering most of blame. The split was mostly amicable; they wouldn’t have to feel any guilt about a weapon making its way all the way to your therapy session, and you’d never have to wear khaki cargo pants and a "stab vest" again that clearly was just for show.

You applied for the job of Chief Psychologist at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center as soon as it popped up on your archaic Linkedin profile, and got the job the following week. The long-waited return to your hometown and all of the skeleton's in your childhood home's closet. The emergency room didn’t exactly sound like a soothing retreat for the recently stabbed, but it did promise the perfect distraction – 12-hour shifts, vacillating between days and nights, and no time to think about all of the things that had happened up to this. And, as a cherry on top, you’d be the first in this position, a long-awaited overhaul of PTMC only relying on psychiatry and social work for their mental health needs. To have someone on-site, in the emergency room, was PTMC's big wet dream; and you were happy to give them that happy ending.

---

Your shift starts at 7am and you take the long way to work to clear your head. The city you once called home has hardly changed, but the feeling of being back was heavier than you expected.

Your phone dings, a familiar face and name.

Dana: Hey kid, come find me at the nurse's station when you get here. you're gonna fit right in

Your physical therapist told you to take it slow, and walking was about as much as you could handle still 12 weeks post-injury. The pain shot down your back from your shoulder blade to your hip, a lingering limp still evident. The scar was "gnarly" according to your best friend, but you had been too afraid to look. PTMC sat at the top of the delightfully named "cardiac hill" -- One of the steepest hills in the city, home to several of the best hospitals in Pittsburgh and the University of Pittsburgh campus. According to local legend, more heart attacks happened here than any other place in Pittsburgh.

Your injury forced you to relocate with the distance in mind, but you weren't exactly thrilled to be sharing the sidewalk with undergraduate college students and their roller backpacks who barely look up from their phone. You were, however, thrilled to see one of the seven wonders of the world on your way to work-- Dunkin'.

America does run on Dunkin', and you know why? Because it's trash, and so is society. You don't walk into a calm environment of espresso machine and jazz music, surrounded by independent filmmakers discussing their film adaptations of David Foster Wallace like you would at a hipster coffee shop. Dunkin' welcomes you with bloodied open arms into a warzone. An absolutely unhinged battlefield, people screaming, the excitement of giving your order to someone who absolutely could not give a fuck. You let Dunkin' tell you what you need, and not for lack of trying. You give the order but they rarely listen. Today you walk out with a large iced mocha, with whipped cream, after ordering a large vanilla latte with oat milk. The universe just feels right, a little off its axis and sickenly sweet.

You walk through the double doors to the ER sliding in between two gurneys on their way to the ambulance bay and make your way to the nurses station, Dana waiting with open arms

"It has been far too long, my girl," Dana hugs you tightly, "and boy am I glad you are okay, and you are here. Your mom told me what happened, how you holding up"

"Almost recovered. You should see the other guy" you reply, "and you look great."

"Thanks kid," Dana smiles, her eyes shift to someone behind you "Oh captain, my captain."

"A patient?" You hear his voice before you see him, and when you turn around, it's hard to look away. He's all tall, dark, and handsome, a real father-figure vibe towering over you. Cargo pants, black scrub top, a fancy watch, a faded hoodie. This must be the place, and this guy definitely fucks. He must have clocked you the moment you walked in--looking like a lost puppy with a limp and a cup full of coffee. Of course he thinks you're a patient.

"My daughter's best friend, and your new psychologist," She corrects him, "This is Dr. Robby."

"Sorry, I saw you come in and were limping, just wanted to make sure you were okay," He nods, confirming that he did, in fact, notice you as soon as you walked in

"The limp is more of a talking point than a medical emergency, but I wouldn't say no to someone taking a look at it. I almost got laid out by an undergrad with a roller backpack on my way here." You smile, outstretching a hand, "I'm Y/N Wheeler, the new head of the psych department."

"Michael Robinavitch, but everyone calls me Robby," He shakes your hand, noticing the tattoo stretching from your wrist to your elbow and under the sleeve of your shirt. He instinctively tilts your arm to examine the ink, a thumb rubbing over your wrist softly, without even noticing he's doing it. Ooooph. You clear your throat and his eyes meet yours, face turning a deep shade of red.

"Don't worry, it definitely goes all the way to my shoulder. If you're good, I'll show it to you." You quip, maintaining eye contact until he looks away, "and yes, the nose ring is real too."

“Wheeler! I see you've met Robby" John Shen takes a step next to Robby, a matching Dunkin' cup in hand. He raises his glass to yours, knocking the two together, "Cheers, bitch. Never thought I'd see the day you moved back to Pittsburgh. Welcome to the thunderdome.”

Shen looks at Robby, “She's straight from the feds. You didn't see her on the news--”

You interrupt before he can divulge any gruesome details of the trauma to your new colleague, “He means that I was a psychologist at the federal detention center not that I was in prison. Although always keep your cards close to your chest."

"Sorry, You two know each other as well?" He raises his eyebrows as the dynamic playing out in front of him, "Jesus Pittsburgh really is small world."

"We met in grad school. Gave him therapy the whole way through residency” You reply, "taught him everything he knows about screaming internally while keeping a straight face."

"Ah" Robby nods, "That really does explain his shockingly chill demeanor."

“Oh great, you're all here." Gloria interrupts the conversation, coming up behind you in a pastel purple pantsuit. Over teams she seemed less, up tight. In person, she's all business in the front and even more business the back, "Our newest chief psychologist. We now have our own consult, and she's overseeing the entire department."

"Figured I could help the ol’ pill pushers up in psychiatry. And plus, these patients seem like a breeze compared to prison." You make a joke, trying to assess the humor of the group. Shen gets it, and laughs. Robby gets it, wants to laugh, but stuffs his hand in his pockets. Gloria doesn't get it at all.

"She’ll be spending her time between day and night shifts, the full 12 hours, so use her as an appropriate resource," she continues.

"You save 'em and I’ll keep them from jumping off the roof" You say quietly, nudging Robby with your elbow, a smile spreading across his face as Gloria turns around and heads off to whatever upper-management office she spawned from.

"So where did you go to school?" Robby asks, hoping your answer reveals something about your age.

"I went to Pitt for undergrad and then Drexel for graduate school. Did my internship, post-doc, and forensic fellowship with the feds" You nod, "we had an infirmary unit, which closely resembled a hospital, but more security forward than anything. I'm board certified in forensics, but my internship focused mostly on neuropsychology."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but fuck am I glad they hired someone like you." He responds, rubbing a hand over his neck,"Hell, some of us could probably use an evaluation."

"I'm excited to be here, but I'm definitely going to have to learn the sense of humors around here. I'm pretty fucked up from the prison, i don't have a great filter, but i work hard and I care about my patients."

He stops walking and turns to face you, "you'll fit in great. So why did you leave the feds?"

"Honestly, I was tired of getting pissed on." The way you say it, so matter-of-factly, with the ability to maintain a serious expression causes Robby to snort. It catches him off guard, a genuine laugh erupting from his throat. He looks at you like he's not quite sure what to make of you yet, but his gaze lingers, a smirk on his face.

"Speaking of getting pissed on" another attending comes up behind you, shorter than Robby, but equally as handsome in a way that screams he's got his own trauma, “Kraken is in two if you’re into that sort of thing."

"Dr. Abbot" Dr. Robby shoots him a look like he's trying to corral his kid. These two know each other. Maybe not biblically, but you know they've definitely cried in front of each other. Something you wouldn't be opposed to seeing.

"Who is the kraken? And do I look like I’m into that sort of thing?" He wasn't expecting you to shoot the same level of bullshit back to him,even as a shit-eating grin appears on his face.

"Never met a nose ring that wasn’t," He shrugs

"A little early for kink shaming, Jack, "Shen interjects, unable to help himself.

"Can't wait to see what my tattoos suggest" you raise an eyebrow

"Sorry, Do you two know each other too?" You can't tell if Robby's annoyed with him or the conversation, but Abbot ignores him.

"Military?"

"Feds."

He nods his head in approval, narrowing his eyes like he's trying to figure out if you're worth his time, "You on nights?"

"Next week. Running a support group on how to dive off the roof and land on your feet at 1am." You don't miss a beat.

"Right up my alley" Abbot responds, "you're going to be trouble."

You catch the look between Robby and Abbot, something unspoken. For a second, you could have sworn they were calling dibs.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fanfic #the pitt x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader

985 notes · View notes

sempiternalmuze · 20 days ago

Text

Running Through the Halls of Your Haunted Home

Jack Abbott x doctor!Reader who has some problems being loved

tags: dr. jack abbott x female!reader, hurt comfort, reader runs away for a bit (story takes place when shes back), Robby being Jacks best friend, age/jobs not really established, implied not great childhood for reader, jack loves her ohmygod??, jack would never leave her tbh, a bit more flowery than i'm used to writing so let me know, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.3k

Five months. That was the timeframe Robby had laid out for you when you'd came to him a few days after Christmas, explaining that you needed a break, need time away from the Pitt, the city, the state. He'd been kind enough to not ask too many questions, but you knew he'd hear it sooner than later directly from Jack during one of their therapy sessions.

So three days after Christmas you packed your bag, grabbed your passport, and changed your number. From one day to the next you had gone from Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center to Portel, Brazil with Doctors Without Borders.

And you lived. You took the time you needed to find your peace again, to pick up the pieces that you had left behind in the dusty apartment Jack and you had shared.

But now it was May-- and Robbie was calling your number every few days. And today when you answered he'd sounded at about wit's end.

"Time's up kid, we need you back here." He sighed, and you could almost see his hand running over his face, tired and no doubt thinking about a fourth—fifth—coffee.

You had stayed silent for a moment, playing with the sheet of your hammock. You glanced at the tents set up by the river, kids running around in a game of tag, parents watching from the sides as they spoke to the other doctors on your crew.

"What if I told you I liked it here more? Then what?" You said, glancing back at the water.

Robby lets out a throaty laugh, one that pulls you away and forces you back to the shuffle of the Pitt. "Because if you did, you would've just said that."

It's a valid point— and true. You wouldn't be asking, wouldn't be hoping he'd tell you any different. You probably would have blocked him, sent an email to Gloria and moved on with your life.

"And I also know what you've got waiting." He whispered. And he was right. You wouldn't just leave like that and not tell Jack. The only reason you had been able to do it the first time was because you knew it was temporary, and small fold in the story you two shared.

"How is he?" The weight was heavy on your shoulders, an invisible force that only left in the depths of night and that was if you were tired enough to fall asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow. Jack was strong, and smart. He'd been through so much worse than a girl who was afraid.

"Well...he visits the roof a lot more now. The first few weeks were...well they were real bad kid." He pauses, like considering what would be too much to tell you. "I offered him to come stay with me, get away from the apartment, but he said he liked it. It gave him a reason to hold on."

Reasons to hold, how very Jack Abbott of him. To want to have hope, to find the reasons even though he wasn't sure where any of it would lead.

"He'd doing better now, I don't have to act like a hostage negotiator too much these days. He comes out to the park with us after work and he makes jokes with the new med students. But he misses you, a lot."

You nodded with a hum into the phone. The sun was so peaceful this time of day, it bounced off the water and on to your skin. You let your eyes close and let your mind drift back to those months ago, from even before the fight, to when things were still solid between the two of you.

Walks in the park after a long shift, hands intertwined as he poked fun at you for your decisions during a shift. The nights spent in bed, room slightly too cold because otherwise you'd burn up with his body heat. Even on the days when it was hard, when his active duty days caught up to him, there was still something to have, because he'd let you hold him, let himself talk and talk about the people and the days of roughing it, of the bad things he saw, of the pain of a leg that was no longer attached to his physical being.

"Kid, I gotta let Gloria know by tonight. Are you back?" Robby's voice broke through the speaker with a crack of static.

"Of course I am Robby."

Now you were running through the airport, hair a mess, sanity hardly in tact. Cassie had been kind enough to come grab you after dropping off Harrison with Chad for the weekend. Today and tomorrow would be your days to get settled, then straight back to it on Monday.

"I've missed you so much!" She squealed, arms wrapped around your center tightly. "You have no idea how much it sucks to have to take on that waiting room with myself and Javadi." She laughs.

"Oh I bet, what would you ever do without me?" You laughed. You held her tight before you both crawled into the car. She started the engine, waving off some security yelling at her and took off.

"How was it?" She asks, face covered in excitement.

"It was amazing Cassie. The people, the pace, the location, all of it was just-perfect." You sigh and throw your head back. "I think it was exactly what I needed."

"That's great." She says. Her tone tells you that there's something else, something on her mind that she isn't saying out loud.

It takes about three minutes of uncomfortable silence and a red traffic light for her to turn to you. "Have you talked to him?"

Cassie was one of about four people who definitely knew what was going on between you and Jack, one of a few who knew lengths you'd go for one another. Her tone is soft, prodding but not overstepping.

"No, Cass I...I didn't want to do anything that might...I don't know, hurt more than it already would?" You sighed. You covered your face with your hands. "I felt horrible, for taking off on him the way I did. But I just...I knew that he'd make me stay."

Cass nods along, listening. She takes your hands in hers, holding it softly over the center console. She doesn't push or try to interject her own thoughts about the whole thing into your mind. She knows you well enough to know that no decision you made came lightly, that it took hours and hours of thought and careful planning.

The light turns green and the car starts moving again. "You don't have to go back so soon. You can stay with Harrison and I if you want to." Cass offers, a small glint in her eyes.

You take a moment to consider before looking out the window. "I need to go back Cass. To my home, to my stuff. I need to go back to him. I ran once but I'm ready. I finally feel ready to face what we left behind." You smile, hands gripping the door handle a bit too tight.

Cass nods and hums. "Just know I'm there. If you need me."

And that's what the conversation is left at. Fifteen minutes later your left staring at your building. Cass offered to go upstairs with you, but you'd elected to face it all yourself.

There were two options that stood in front of you. One, Jack was home, asleep, getting ready to head to bed and face another grueling night shift. The blackout curtains would be drawn and the apartment quiet. Would the floorboards remember your steps or creak under the unfamiliar weight of your long lost body? Maybe they would, and then they'd wake him, and you'd have to explain the last five months of your life to him while he was half asleep.

The other option was simple, he wasn't home, maybe getting groceries before he inevitably came home to crash out on the couch. It had irked you so much when you first started dating. The way he'd get off a few hours before you and offer to do the shopping, just for you to come home and find him asleep in the most neck sore position possible, jacket barely off, jeans twisted too tightly across his legs. But eventually it became a comfort, the way you could rouse him and make him follow you to bed, where you'd help him take off his prosthetic, rip off his scrubs in return for a clean shirt and pj pants. Or sometimes when you were both so tired after a rough day you could snuggle yourself between his arms, him hardly waking up, but still opening his strong arms so you could press against his chest.

And you find yourself hoping it can be like those distant couch sleeps. That he'll be there, asleep on the couch, and you can just lay with him, head pressed against his chest, snuggled right below his chin as his fingers splay over the middle of your back, gripping you as to not let you disappear again.

So when you turn your key into the lock, you take a deep breath. With the click sounding, you push the door open. You roll your suitcase in first, setting it to the side. Then you pause, listening. There's silence, and for a moment you think you're safe. The buzz of the AC when it clicks on startles you, but not as much as the man standing before you.

Jack stands near the couch, hand holding on to it, like he might fall over. He wears a tight black tee, some washed jeans and his tennis shoes. When you finally meet his eyes you see something, a glint of pain? Maybe sadness, maybe shock. His hair is slightly longer along the sides, his facial hair a bit more clean shaven than the stubble you had last seen him in. He doesn't move, neither do you. Its like the saddest cowboy stand off you've ever witnessed.

The click of the door behind you finally breaks the silence. You take a step forward, placing your keys down on the entry table. You can't tear your eyes from his. You wish you could read his face, know where to start on the long list of apologies and begging of forgiveness.

"I know you probably hate me. I know you maybe wish I would have never come back. And I know when I left we were in a bad position, a position that I never wanted to be at with you." Jack opens his mouth to say something, but you're quick to silence him with a raise of your hand.

"But I'm here. I'm here because I love you. Because I never wanted to leave in the first place. And you are the first stable thing I've had in my life since med school." A sudden hiccup burst from you, followed by tears. You couldn't stop it. In an instant your face was crumpled, warm, tears spilling from your eyes.

"Sweetheart..." Jack mutters, marching towards you until his arms swaddled your frame, arms pressing tight around your ribs, fingers grasping at your hair. His face pressed deeply against the crown of your head, and his chest pressed perfectly against your ear until you could hear the thumping of his heart.

"Jack Abbott you— God you fucking took my life and put it back together in ways I didnt think possible. You showed me that I could be loved. I was worthy of love and attention."

You pulled away, Jack's arms still resting across your waist, fingers digging in, as though fully releasing you would mean you walking out the front door forever this time.

"And I ran. I ran because I was so fucking scared that you'd wake up and decide that I wasn't worthy, that you didn't need to be here. And I wouldn't be able to handle that." You glanced at him, and while your vision remained slightly blurred, you found that he was already looking back at you. For a moment you thought pity might be the thing coursing through his dark eyes, but you realized it wasn't even close. It was more like concern, fear.

"I picked that fight because I thought it was the only way to get you to leave. But you didn't. You refused to leave, to give in. And that made me mad." You laugh, wiping your face. Jack cracks a smile, followed by a small chuckle of his own.

"You made me mad because instead of doing what everyone else has done, you planted your feet. And that made me the most scared." You said, staring down at the ground. Jack gave you a moment to collect yourself, and when it seemed your breathing had finally calmed a bit, he took your hands in his, fingers intertwining with his own, his calloused palms pushing against yours.

"I planted my feet because I knew exactly what you were doing." He says, soft, speaking more into your hair than into the open space around you two.

"It was a stupid battle, and you're not stupid, so of course I knew what you were doing. Because I know you, sweetheart." he chuckles a little, the sound vibrating in his throat. "And more importantly, I planted my feet because I wanted to stay. You have never ever been anything short of the most beautiful, loving, smartest, strongest woman in my life. You are the best thing I've had in years." He sighed, his hand lefts yours as it moved up your arm, until it fell onto your jaw, guiding your eyes to his.

"And you put me back together. And I love you for that." He finishes. Neither of you two move, letting each others words swell around your embrace.

Your eyes drop to his lips, soft and kind. He doesn't hesitate, pulling you against him, letting your lips grace each others for the first time in months. You sigh, pressing your body against his. He holds you close as you two drink each other in.

Eventually he pulls away, rests his forehead against yours.

"I've missed you."

ϟ.·:¨༺ ♡ ༻¨:·.ϟ

#sempiternalmuze #jack abbott #the pitt #dr. jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbott imagine #dr abbot x reader #jack abbott fanfic #the pitt imagine #the pitt fanfiction

360 notes · View notes

lockeswoodss · 2 months ago

Text

The Crimson Glow: Chapter 1

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You had long given up on meeting your soulmates. At 33, you felt like you'd miss the window. Pathetic off white pink strings, that had only darkened twice, were your only claim to them. That was until you started your across-state journey from Philly to P-burgh. Feeling brash after a recent breakup you threw caution to the wind and applied for a job across your home state. To your surprise, you were hired. With the encouragement of your close friends and brother, you committed to the new experience. For once, you were excited for adventure, that was until your strings began to darken.

CW: none? I guess cursing? If you see something please let me know 💛

A/N: While this chapter does not include smut there will be some in future chapters; it's a slow burn. Smut chapters will be labeled

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin (also the requester of this prompt ^-^)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It would be an understatement to say that you’ve grown pessimistic when it comes to your soulmates. I mean fuck you were in your early thirties and your soul link of red strings had only changed from a pale pink twice in your life before going back to the default light pink. Yes, strings plural. You were part of the 2% of Americans who are estimated to have more than one soulmate. Despite this occurring in 1 in 50 people, your parents were from a generation where those who had more than one soulmate were ostracized. In turn, they had trained you since you were able to talk to only refer to one string. It had been ingrained in you to the extent that even now, as an adult, you had only told less than five people outside of your family about having two soulmates. Two of which were close friends, and the other two were past long-term relationships. Fuck what you wouldn’t give for a quote of your first words, or a countdown timer. Anything other than this off-white string that had been hanging over your head since childhood.

You knew that you could only be mad at fate to a certain extent. You had chosen to be career driven and bet on sure things rather than chasing after strings that had been stagnant for almost your whole life. In a way, you wish you could be as carefree as your twin brother. Benjamin, ever the romantic, took what was supposed to be a gap year from undergrad to grad school to find his mate. He headed east to Europe and backpacked across the entire continent before finding his soulmate, now husband, in Sicily. He ended up settling in London with his soulmate, Dante, eleven years ago and never looked back. Your parents’ reaction to his “lifestyle choices” was the final nail in the coffin before you both went no contact. You were the only thing left trying him to the US. You visited him at least once a year and talked regularly. You always wished you could be as carefree as he was. Despite your own situation, you were beyond happy for your brother. If not a bit envious, which led you to now, you pulled off at a rest station off of Route 76 on the verge of a panic attack.

You had just passed Harrisburg, two hours into your journey west from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh. For the first time ever both your strings were red, overlapped and darkening as you got closer to Pittsburgh. You didn’t know what to do or how to process this new information. Your strings had been overlapped for about two years now, and you had dealt with and accepted the fact that your soulmates had most likely found each other. No, it was the darkening that threw you for a loop. This had only happened twice, the first time the string had gone from off-white to red only to turn back light pink within a few hours. That same string, pointing east across the Atlantic, had briefly turned black to grey back to light pink. You’d never forget that day one of your soulmates had almost died. Your sting had gone black for a minute and 57 seconds.

You shook your head, dismissing that thought; you were already stressed as it was.

You don’t know how Benji and your friend, a Pittsburgh native, had convinced you to take life by the reins and be impulsive. Between your recent breakup and a job opportunity across the state, you had made the improbable choice. You quit your job and got an apartment on the other side of the state. You regret it now, dread building in your gut. You weren’t spontaneous, no, you were practical and thorough. You didn’t take these kinds of risks.

Fuck, you felt like you were going to throw up. You quickly exited your maps app. Your thumb was over your brother’s contact info when your call screen suddenly took over displaying an incoming call from him. You picked up before the first ring had ended.

“You’re okay,” Ben’s voice rang out before you even had the chance to greet him. The wails of your nephew faint in the background.

“I-” You started, voice shaky, you paused before taking a breath.

“It’s okay,” he said once again, voice level.

“They’re red Ben, like properly red, like the ones in the movies.” You responded, you somehow managed to get the words out evenly, before taking another deep breath.

“Sis, that’s a good thing,” he responded, smile clear in his voice.

“No, I don’t know what to do,” you sighed, pressing your forehead flush with the top of the steering wheel, “I always know what to do Ben.”

“It’s okay to not know what’s to come, most people don’t know what’s going to happen before they meet their soulmate. You just have to lean on fate for a bit before going back to being a know-it-all,” he joked, hoping to lighten your mood.

“Okay,” you sighed, breathing going back to normal. “But what if I’m not what they’re expecting?”

“Then they’ll be pleasantly surprised,” He responded,

“What if it’s a bad time? Or if I meet them before making it to Pittsburgh?” You ask.

“There’s no perfect time to meet your mates, and if you meet them before Pittsburgh, you’ll figure it out. Like you always do.” He said comfortingly,

“What if-what if they don’t want me?” you said, finally voicing your deepest concern.

“Sis,” he replied softly, his voice just loud enough to register on his phone’s mic.

“I’m just-Fuck, I’m a mess, I start at my new job in less than two days, my apartment isn’t set up, and I definitely needed to do a everything shower this morning, but gaslighted myself into not washing my hair.” You sighed, “Just,” you breathed, “What if I’m not good enough?” Your voice wavered.

“Hey, watch your tone, I know you’re not bad mouthing my sister. Not the one that put herself through college, a master’s program, and a licensing process to become an art therapist. Not the woman who devotes everything to her patients within boundaries. Not the one who worked pro bono at a grief summer camp because of a staffing shortage. Or on top of everything is an amazing artist. Cuz she’s an empathetic badass, who is way too smart to say any of that shit.” Ben responded.

“Ben,” you said, sniffled, eyes watering.

“You’re going to be okay. They are lucky to be blessed with your presence and happy to meet you. If not, I’ll fuck them up.”

You let out a wet laugh, a single tear escaping each of your eyes as you blinked.

“Thanks,” you sniffled, a soft smile on your lips.

“No problem. What are big brothers for?” he asked, jokingly.

“Just cuz you cut in line does not make you older.” You responded to a lifelong debate with an eyeroll he’d never see, “Sorry for falling apart on you.”

“Sis, I’m sleep training a five-month-old, who is on what I hope is the tail end of colic. You were a much-needed break.”

“Tell Atlas his auntie loves him.” You said, taking one last deep breath. The weight gone from your chest.

“I will.” You could hear the softness in his voice shift, Atlas most likely finally calming down for Dante in the other room, “If you need anything, feel free to call.”

“I will, love you,” you reply.

“Love you too,” he responded before you clicked off the call.

You took a deep breath; you plugged your phone back into its charging port and clicked on maps and cued up a hip-hop mix. You shifted from park to drive and merged back onto I-76. You took one last stop two hours in, but it just made you more tired. You white knuckled it until you got to the parking garage adjacent to your building. Your strings continued to darken, color plateaued when you drove into the city’s limits. They weren’t overlapping anymore. On was pointing up, something you’d never seen before, and the other was pointing off to the right as you face your apartment building. You texted Ben and your friend who lived in the city that you got in safely. You unloaded your backpack and a single suitcase that held all your valuables. For the first time, you found yourself liking the annoying squeaks of its broken wheel. It was something familiar.

After you locked your car, the next half hour was a blur. You signed the final paperwork at the office and got your keys. You boarded the elevator and clicked on the tenth floor.

Your breath caught in your throat as the red string that was pointing upward started to move laterally down, while the other started to point down. The above one kept moving downward until it was back to the height of your palm. Was this it? Were you about to meet your soulmate? Despite bitching about not meeting them for the better part of thirty years you felt wildly unprepared. The ding of your floor snapped you out of your daze.

Were they living on the same floor as you?

You shook your head, turning left as the building manager had directed you. You slowly made your way down the hall; your suitcase’s broken wheel squeaking was the only noise. Your head snapped down as you passed the last apartment on the right before yours. The string was bright crimson, bolder than you had ever seen before. As you walked on, the string went through you, through the wall into that apartment.

You paused. But then there was nothing? Maybe they were asleep? It was four in the afternoon, but you weren’t really one to judge; you always loved a good nap. That or maybe they worked nights? After waiting for a beat, you slowly walked down to your apartment door, keeping an eye on the door as you opened yours.

Maybe this was okay? While you were desperate to meet them, you also had just completed an over five-hour drive, and you felt and you’re sure, looked like hot garbage. You gave yourself no time to take in the apartment before crossing through the sea of reusable boxes to your bedroom. You quickly tossed your backpack on the sheetless mattress resting on a built bed frame. You pulled out the lounge wear you packed along with a towel and washcloth from one of the totes before rushing to the bathroom. If you were gonna meet them today you were gonna have clean hair god dammit. You turned on the water as you stripped, your string remaining solitary to the one spot in your neighbor’s apartment. You unpacked your toiletries onto the shower’s ledges before jumping in. Your nerves got to you again, loitering in the shower as long as you could justify. After drying off, you did your full extended post-shower routine; eyes never straying far from the solitaire string.

While you tried to start to unpack, you couldn’t help but stare at the string. Should you just go and knock on their door? Before you could scheme any further, your stomach grumbled. It was already five and you hadn’t eaten since the last rest stop. Maybe going to grab something to eat wasn’t the worst idea ever. It’d get you out of your current impasse of staring at a wall. You picked a well-rated Thai restaurant around the corner, ordering way too much for a single person. The entire trip lasted about a half-hour, but it was a nice break. You got some fresh air and were able to stretch your legs as you took in the neighborhood. When you got back to the lobby, your other string started to darken quickly, like it was speeding towards you. You debated waiting for it or going back upstairs so that you could all be together. You opted for the latter and retreated back to your apartment. The string on your floor remained still, only starting to move as you closed your door.

Your heart began to hammer in your chest as you placed the food down on your kitchen counter. You were about to check in with Ben before a loud knock sounded off. Hesitantly, you approached the door, strings bright red, almost glowing. They formed a “V” shape as you wrapped your hand around the door handle.

This was it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read! I am in the last month of my semester, so I don't have an update schedule as of now. Will hopefully be more consistent after mid-May. Hope you're doing well whenever you are 💛

#the pitt fanfiction #the pitt #pre canon #cross posted on ao3 #jack abbot x reader x michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #michael robinavitch #jack abbot x michael robinavitch #slow burn #soulmate au #eventual smut #poly robby & jack #mxm #mxf #mxmxf #the crimson glow

294 notes · View notes

goodnightoilcountry · 1 year ago

Text

jo's nhl fic rec list !

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

how to navigate

i update this list weekly (try to) and place all the new fic recs at the top under NEW.

when searching for a specific player, they will always be listed under their current team.

* updated saturday 15 march 2025 *

weekly note: the last few weeks i got to really find out how lethal the flu can be! probably for the best bc this fic rec was both an update on the recent fics i've found and loved and a shuffle for players to their new homes. enjoy!!

all summaries outlined have been written by their respective writers. if you do not wish to be featured on this list, please don't hesitate to let me know! this is just an outlet for me to share all my favourite works 🫰🏼

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

NEW

the world never ended (jack hughes) by @leaderwonim summary: y/n and Jack Hughes have been inseparable since childhood, spending every summer at his family’s lake house—until his hockey career takes off and leaves her behind. As Jack’s life moves forward and Y/N tries to do the same, the distance between them grows in ways neither of them expected. But when their paths cross again at a breaking point, they’re forced to confront everything they never said and the feelings that never really went away. word count: 3.8k

the puck-cident (clayton keller) by @captain-huggy-bear summary: You are the unfortunate soul that takes a puck to the face during one of Utah's games, Clayton sees whole thing and demands to be let off the ice. word count: 5.5k

i just had sex with my ex in a new york apartment (nathan mackinnon) by @mattyanonwrites summary: the biggest trade in hockey in years has you texting your ex, something you swore you would never do. but you thought it would be harmless. word count: 7.1k

it ain't me babe part 1 + part 2 (sidney crosby) by @angelsuecult summary: you feel out of place at a wedding with Sidney, left wondering where your relationship is going. word count: 13.3k total

you gotta kiss somebody (sometimes) (matthew tkachuk) by @antoineroussel-archiveword count: 1.8k

double or nothing (quinn hughes) by @sweethischier summary: Falling for a hockey player was risky, but falling for a hockey player your dad coached was an entirely different gamble. word count: 7.4k

so damn needy (quinn hughes) by @sweetestdesire summary: in which Quinn Hughes is a surprisingly needy boyfriend. word count: 1.3k

five chances and one kiss (quinn hughes) by @777bae summary: Five times Quinn has the chance to kiss you, and one time he takes that chance. word count: 5.8k

FIC REC MASTERLIST

total number of fics: 208

anaheim ducks fic rec list players: trevor zegras

boston bruins fic rec list players: jeremy swayman

carolina canes fic rec list players: andrei svechnikov - pyotr kotchekov - sebastian aho - seth jarvis - tyson jost

colorado avs fic rec list players: cale makar - erik johnson - jack drury - nathan mackinnon

dallas stars fic rec list players: wyatt johnston

detroit red wings fic rec list players: jt compher

florida panthers fic rec list players: matthew tkachuk

montreal canadiens players: juraj slafkovsky

nashville preds fic rec list players: brady skjei - michael bunting

new jersey devils fic rec list players: jack hughes - luke hughes - nico hischier

new york islanders fic rec list players: mat barzal - matt martin

philadelphia flyers fic rec list players: jamie drysdale

pittsburgh penguins fic rec list players: sidney crosby

toronto maple leafs fic rec list players: auston matthews - matthew knies - mitch marner - william nylander

utah hc fic rec list players: clayton keller

vancouver canucks fic rec list players: arturs silovs - brock boeser - quinn hughes

washington capitals fic rec list players: anthony beauvillier

ALL OUR WONDERFUL WRITERS

thank you to all the incredible fic writers on this godforsaken app ! i am always so in awe of how creative people are and am constantly inspired by your minds ! i can't wait to find more of you on here 🤍

@43-hugs @adoristsposts @austonwithan-o @babydollmarauders @bagopucks @bedsyandco @behoright @bitchinbarzal @blueskrugs @bqstqnbruin @cellythefloshie @chewingcyanide @comphersjost @comphy-and-cozy @doc-pickles @eyesthatroll @fallinallincurls @happer08 @hischierdevils @hischierhoney @hockeyboistrash @hockeywhy @hockey-fics @hockey-hoe-24-7 @holy-pucks @hookingminor @huggybug @hugshughes @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @islesnucks @itsjusthockey @ladylooch @letsgetrowdy43 @marnerparty @matthewtkachuk @mattyanonwrites @matwith1t @mendeshoney @misshoneyimhome @mrsensitive @nhlclover @ohmyeyesmyeyes @pennylanefics @prettytoxicrevolver @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys @silovsmenot @starry-hughes @senditcolton @silverstonesainz-archive @stormsplurge @sunkissed-zegras @sunnyskiesscareme @sydnikov @thatintrovertedwriter @theemporium @thewintersoldierdisaster @undertaurus @unluckyhoneybee @withwritersblock @yelenasdog @youunravelme

744 notes · View notes

jelly-rei · 1 month ago

Text

All the nice places we couldn’t go

Tommy Conlon x Reader oneshot

Summary: Tommy Conlon stumbles across a childhood friend, Y/n, from high school after years apart. Y/n is an aspiring photographer, determined to build a portfolio for a local competition—one final chance to prove her work matters. But as they reconnect, old promises resurface, and Tommy remembers the vow he made long ago, to take her to all the nice places they couldn’t go.

A/n: I’ve never written for Tommy Conlon before or even any non Peaky blinder characters, so do forgive me if I represented Tommy a little different than his cannon version!

Word count: 5k

Content includes: Mention of Abuse, fighting

It was an ordinary day for the soon-to-be MMA fighter in training, Tommy Riordan Conlon. Training and sweating from day till night, punching and kicking like his life depended on it—which it did. He had a competition to win, and he was going to win it. That was the plan. That was the goal. And once Tommy Conlon had his mind set on the prize, nothing else mattered.

He trained with his father, Paddy Conlon.

He never liked his father all that much. Paddy had been abusive and absent—especially when Tommy’s mother was sick and dying. But the only person Tommy trusted enough to train him now was the very man who broke him. Paddy had been his trainer and coach back in high school. And through all those years, Tommy couldn’t recall a single moment of happiness while doing something he was supposedly good at.

He didn’t even know what he was training his ass off for. Wasting his energy and blood over a competition that might not mean anything in the end. If he won—then what? His life was still already decided. And winning wouldn’t change the things that had already happened.

But still, The moment he heard about the upcoming tournament, all he knew was that he had to win.

Maybe—just maybe—it would give him a reason to keep going.

Tonight, Tommy trained alone as usual. He had thought about bringing his father along, but decided he couldn’t stomach the tension that day being around the old man. Paddy had been trying to fix things—mend his relationship with Tommy and his older brother Brendan—but Tommy didn’t believe that was possible anymore. Some things were too broken to be fixed.

What’s the point in trying to make things better, when all you’ve known your whole life is betrayal and disappointment?

Tommy wasn’t interested in useless connections. Or any kind of connection, really.

He ducked low to dodge the swinging bag in front of him, trading punches and kicks, grunting through every blow.

Meanwhile, you sat near the gym’s entrance, waiting for your older brother. He’d been coming to this small Pittsburgh gym for months now. You weren’t there to train—God, no. You had zero interest in the sport or the fitness community. You were here with one goal: to take pictures of your brother, the ring, the atmosphere, and maybe some of the other fighters in action.

You were submitting a portfolio for a local photography competition, and you really wanted to win. First place meant getting your work featured in a local magazine—and a nice cash prize to go with it.

You were already an aspiring photographer, though you never considered yourself particularly gifted. There were always flaws you noticed in your own work—composition, lighting, timing. But despite everything, you still kept taking pictures. Something inside you made you try, even when you didn’t know why.

Maybe, if you won—you’d finally prove yourself worthy of something.

You fell in love with photography the day your grandmother gave you a camera for your sixteenth birthday. You remember your very first shot: your father, slouched in his armchair with a beer in one hand and a newspaper in the other. And even though the lighting was bad and the angle was slightly crooked—the photo came out beautiful. At least, to you.

That camera became your escape to your dull life. You took pictures of everything and everyone. Your older brother had left for college, and you were stuck at home with your parents most of the time. He rarely came home—only for birthdays or Christmas, but by then he was gone again.

He had gone off to study biomedical engineering, but only to appease your father. In truth, he’d always loved boxing. Ever since he was a kid. But your father always dismissed it —“There’s room for hobbies,” he’d say, “but hobbies won’t get you anywhere.”

So your brother had snuck off in secret to train. Lied about having after-school classes. He found a small gym and started sparring with other aspiring boxers. After getting his master’s degree, he kept up the lie—working at the hospital and tending to others during the day, competing in underground matches by night.

And you? You got the same treatment.

The moment you expressed an interest in photography, your father tore you down. Criticized every photo you took.

“Not sharp enough”

“Too dark.”

“Nothing special.”

No picture was ever good enough. Nothing you did ever was. Even when you gave up photography to pursue a business degree just to make him proud—he found new ways to make sure that you knew you were useless.

Now, as you wandered around the gym aimlessly with your camera strapped around your neck, snapping candid shots of the space, you noticed a man off in the far corner—alone. You lowered your camera slightly, tilting your head. Why was he by himself instead of with the rest? Maybe he didn’t like working out around others. But he quickly slipped out of your mind as you moved on, trying to find something worth capturing. The light wasn’t great. The space felt uninspired. You reviewed your camera roll, deleting half the shots without hesitation. Nothing felt good enough.

You sighed. Today just wasn’t your day.

You were about to tell your brother you wanted to head home when your eyes drifted back toward the far corner. That same man. Still there. But now, as you looked closer—Your breath caught in your throat. It was him.

Tommy Riordan Conlon. A boy you once knew in high school—a long time ago.

“Tommy?”

The man in the sweat-drenched black shirt looked up from where he stood, hands braced on his knees. His eyes softened slightly as recognition dawned on him.

“Y/n?”

You gasped, your lips parting just a little in disbelief.

He remembered you?

Your body froze. Your hands were starting to get clammy. You swallowed a huge thick lump in your throat and tried your best to speak, even as your vocal cords refused to cooperate.

“Haven’t seen you in a long time. What’ve you been up to?” you asked, trying to sound casual. Like nothing had ever happened. But it was hard to be casual with someone who’d basically changed the most important years of your life.

Tommy wiped the sweat from his temples with a cloth pulled from his pocket. He hesitated—like he always did before talking. Maybe he was choosing his words carefully. Or maybe he just didn’t like talking about himself. He never had anyway.

“I’ve just been training,” he said finally, brushing his hair back. “Nothing much. What about you? Still taking pictures, huh?” he said pointing to your camera.

Your eyes widened slightly at the mention of your camera. “Oh—yeah, I still do photography. I’m actually here for a competition. Local portfolio thing.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah? Ain’t much to take here, but I’ll leave that judgment to you.”

You laughed nervously. “I came with my brother. Thought I’d get some shots of him… and maybe anything else that looked, y’know, photo-worthy.”

Tommy took a long swig from his water bottle, his chest rising and falling with fatigue. “How many you taken so far? Sorry, I ask too many questions.”

You shook your head quickly. “No! No, you’re good. Really. I’ve taken a lot, but I’ve deleted just as many. I dunno… it’s hard to be satisfied with any of them. But—here, take a look if you want.”

You moved toward him, lifting your camera to show the screen. Your shoulders brushed briefly—both of you flinching just a little at the contact. It had been so long. And yet your body still remembered him.

You looked away quickly, lowering your gaze to the camera. “Sorry, Tommy.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just studied the photos as you clicked through them. You stopped on the last one—a sharp, mid-punch shot of your brother in stance.

You turned toward Tommy, who was already looking at you.

“So…what do you think? I think it’s okay.”

He looked away for a second, then back again. “I think it’s beautiful. You always had that eye. You take something ordinary and make it extraordinary.”

Your heart jumped. It was something he used to say back in high school—when you were still learning, still scared, still clinging to every bit of encouragement. He would hold your camera, look at your work, then say it with a softness in his eyes that never quite matched the roughness of his voice. Maybe, just maybe, the Tommy you knew hadn’t changed that much after all.

“Really? Wow. Thank you, Tommy. That means the world.”

Your eyes lingered on his for a moment—warm, familiar. Both of you locked in something quiet and invisible, until the tension pushed you apart again. You looked away, and so did he.

Tommy scratched the back of his neck. “Umm… I’m training for a competition too. The MMA tournament. I plan to win it—get all the money.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. “MMA? Oh my god, Tommy—that’s amazing!” you said, practically squealing with excitement for an old friend.

The joy in your voice caught him off guard. He felt his muscles relax, just a little—like he hadn’t heard anyone be that happy for him in a long time. He licked his lips nervously, eyes darting around the gym again. Collecting his thoughts, his breath, anything to ground him.

Being this close to you was making him short-circuit.

“Hey, uh—Y/n… ain’t that your brother over there?” Tommy nodded toward the ring. “I think he’s about to spar with that guy.”

You turned your head. There he was—your brother, stepping into the ring across from a tall guy with a flat mohawk.

“C’mon, Mad Dog! Don’t go easy on him,” the other man barked, who you assumed was Mad Dog’s coach. He massaged his fighter’s shoulders, amping him up.

Mad Dog? You blinked. He sounded strong.

And it turned out, he was.

Within seconds, Mad Dog delivered a bone-jarring punch straight to your brother’s ribs. You flinched. Every strike after that made him stumble, crouch, fall—no matter how hard he tried to get back up. Even when he defended himself, arms up and tight, Mad Dog still found a way to get through. Another jab. Then followed by another. The final hit forced your brother to surrender.

You couldn’t tell if he needed immediate help or if this was just normal for fighters. Either way, you weren’t breathing.

A warm hand landed gently on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry about him,” Tommy said quietly. “He’ll be fine.”

It was exactly what you needed to hear. His voice, his presence—it settled something in you. You nodded and hurried over to your brother, who now sat on the bench, a damp cloth draped over his eyes, chest heaving.

“You alright?”

“Y-yeah… that guy’s insane,” he groaned.

He pulled the cloth off—and froze. Tommy was standing right in front of him.

“Tommy? Is that you? Jesus… it’s really you! How’ve you been, man?”

Tommy nodded awkwardly, eyes flicking around the gym like they always did when attention was on him. “Uh… yeah. Been good.”

“He’s training for MMA,” you added proudly.

Your brother’s grin widened. “No shit? That’s amazing, Tommy.” He clapped him on the back. “Good for you.”

Tommy stayed quiet, but his eyes were fixed on the ring again. Mad Dog’s coach was now scanning the gym, calling out for someone else to spar with his fighter. But no one stepped forward.

“I’ll fight him,” Tommy said suddenly, voice low. “If no one else wants to.”

Your brother whipped his head around. “Tommy—no. You saw what he did to me. Don’t.”

Mad Dog smirked from across the ring. “If he wants to try, be my guest.”

The coach sighed, eyeing Tommy. “Alright then. Let’s see what you’ve got, boy.”

Without hesitation, Tommy stepped into the ring. No prep. No warm-up. Just quiet focus. You watched as he stood in a fighting stance, heart hammering. But something told you he’d be fine.

Tommy struck first—swift and sharp. A kick to Mad Dog’s side sent the man staggering. When he rose, Tommy was already there, fists landing fast and brutal. You bit your lip, watching through your lens as the two collided over and over.

Every punch made you flinch. But it was beautiful, in a strange, haunting way. Two men, drenched in sweat, in a silent war for dominance.

And then—Mad Dog was down.

You raised your camera, zeroed in on Tommy’s face—panting, fierce, glowing with intensity—and snapped the shot. He looked like a monument.

The flash startled him. He turned, brow creased, eyes finding you.

“Oh—shit! Sorry, Tommy. I should’ve asked. I’ll delete it if you want.”

He walked toward you slowly, eyes still locked on the camera.

“Nah. Don’t delete it. Let me see.”

Hands trembling slightly, you flipped to the photo and held it out. Tommy stared at it for a long moment. Then looked back at you.

“Looka good. You made me look good. And I’m fuckin’ ugly.”

You laughed. “No you’re not, Tommy. You looked amazing out there.”

And he smiled. A real one. It made your chest ache.

Your brother, now dressed again, came out of the locker room—expecting to see the fight still happening, only to find Mad Dog on the ground and people helping him up.

“Wait… did you win, Tommy?” he asked.

Tommy just nodded, humble.

“Fucking hell,” your brother muttered with a proud grin.

Suddenly, Mad Dog’s coach waved Tommy over.

“I should probably go talk to him,” he said.

You nodded and watched him walk away, still dazed by what had just happened.

“We’ll leave soon,” your brother said. “Just gotta grab my stuff. Wait here, yeah?”

“Alright.”

Your brother and Tommy disappeared, and you sat down, scrolling through your photos again—eyes landing on the one you took of Tommy.He didn’t even have to try to look good. It almost annoyed you, how he couldn’t see how beautiful he was.

You were just working up the courage to ask him to be your model when his voice called out, but figured it was probably too late since your brother was already walking towards his car or maybe too soon for two old friends who’d only met after forever.

“Y/n.”

You looked up. Tommy was walking toward you again, scratching the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

“So, uh…”

“I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna meet up sometime. Y’know… since we haven’t seen each other in like what? 10 years?.”

Your cheeks flushed pink as you fidgeted with your sleeves. You’d wanted to ask him the same thing. You’d been trying to find any trace of him online for years—social media, old threads, anything. But he had vanished. Until now.

“Of course, Tommy.” You smiled. “Actually… I was gonna ask if you’d be my model for the competition. If not, we can just hang out, talk, whatever works.”

He blinked, surprised. “Oh—yeah. I mean, I could be your model or whatever. If you think I’m, uh… worthy. I don’t really know what to do, though.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” you said softly. “Just be yourself.”

You handed him your phone and he typed in his number. The two of you stood in silence for a beat—taking it all in. Neither quite believing this was real. Even after all this time, there was still something between you. But also, something unspoken, something fragile—an invisible thread neither of you knew how to pull yet.

Your brother waved at you from across the gym, motioning toward the car. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay. But you would see him again. You knew you would.

“You should probably go,” Tommy said gently. “I’ll text you when I get back, promise.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… I’ll see you soon, Tommy.”

As you walked off, you turned around one last time, he was still looking at you. He gave a small, thoughtful wave, lowering his head with that soft shyness he never quite outgrew. You smiled to yourself sheepishly and waved back jogging to your brother’s side as he urged you into the car.

On the ride home, your heart was full of motion. You watched the world blur past the windows—streetlights, trees, people. And somewhere in your chest, you hoped like hell that Tommy would text you. Not because you didn’t trust him.

But because it had been so long since anyone ever meant it when they said they would.

Your brother’s car pulled up in front of your place just after 9 p.m. The sky was dark, and your body felt heavy—but your head was still buzzing. The whole drive home, he’d been talking about the fight, about how insane Tommy was, about how maybe he needed to start training harder. You barely heard anything he said

You were thinking about the photo. About Tommy’s voice. About the way he’d looked at you right before you left.

You mumbled a quick thanks and shut the car door, rushing inside, tossing your bag down without even bothering to turn on the main lights. Your camera was still around your neck.

And then—your phone buzzed.

You didn’t even make it past your bedroom door before unlocking it.

Tommy Conlon: Hey. It’s me. You still want that model or what?

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Still in your jeans and jacket, you threw yourself down onto your bed face-first, then rolled over and typed back fast:

You: Of course I do. I was hoping you’d text first, actually. Free tomorrow afternoon? Golden hour?

Your heart pounded. You watched the little dots appear. Disappear. Reappear. Then finally:

Tommy Conlon: Golden hour sounds nice. Just tell me where.

And if I gotta bring snacks or just my awkward ass.

You laughed into your pillow, cheeks warm, legs kicking a little against the blanket like you were sixteen all over again.

You sat up just enough to reply:

You: Just bring yourself. And maybe a hoodie. It’s gonna be chilly. I’ll send the address.

Tommy Conlon: Alright. I’ll be there.

And just like that, It was actually happening. You looked at the camera still hanging around your neck, heart buzzing all over again.

You barely slept.

Every time you shut your eyes, you saw him—his face through your lens, the way he looked after the fight, the way he smiled when he said you made him look good. You kept replaying the sound of his voice reading your name.

By morning, your camera was already charging, your clothes were laid out, and your room smelled faintly like fresh coffee and nerves.

You stood in front of your mirror holding up outfit after outfit—first your “cool artist” look, then your “I-didn’t-try-that-hard” sweater, then something in between. You didn’t want to look too dressed up. But you also didn’t want to look like you just rolled out of bed.

God, why am I thinking about this so hard? you scolded yourself, throwing the hoodie back onto the chair.

Eventually, you settled on something simple and soft. Comfortable. Warm enough for the chill in the air. You pulled your hair back, then messed it up again. You checked your camera three times. Battery full. Memory card clear. Everything was ready.

Still… your hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting.

It wasn’t just the shoot. It was him.

It was that invisible thread between you both—the one that felt like it could either snap… or hold if you let it.

The sun was just starting to dip when you arrived at the location—a quiet stretch of overgrown field behind a shut-down rec center. Rusted bleachers sat untouched, wild grass curled around the old fence posts, and the light was melting golden across everything like honey.

It was perfect. Lonely but beautiful,

You adjusted your camera strap, checking the settings for the fourth time as you paced. He hadn’t texted that he was here yet, but your heart was already speeding like he had.

Then—you heard gravel crunch. Tommy.

He was walking toward you in that familiar, heavy kind of stride. Hands in the pocket of a black hoodie, hood up over his messy hair. His shoulders looked even broader under the sweatshirt. His eyes met yours, and the corner of his mouth tugged in something that almost looked like a smile.

“Hey,” he said, stopping a few feet from you. “Hope I’m not late.”

You shook your head. “You’re right on time.”

You tried not to show how weirdly breathless you felt. He looked good. That quiet, rugged kind of good. Like someone who didn’t know the effect he had.

“You sure this is the spot?” he asked, looking around at the peeling paint and weeds.

“Yeah,” you said softly, lifting your camera. “I like places like this. Feels like… something people forgot, but it’s still trying to be beautiful.”

Tommy nodded slowly, his gaze flicking around again.

“Alright. What do you want me to do?”

You smiled gently. “Just stand there for now. Don’t think too hard.”

He huffed a breath, a nervous kind of laugh under his breath. “That’s kinda all I do. Think too hard.”

You lifted the camera to your face.

“Then stop thinking. Just look at me.”

And it hit you—just how intense his eyes were. Not angry. Not cold. Just focused. Like he was trying to figure something out about you without asking.

Click.

You stepped sideways. “Now… turn a little to your side and just walk normally, Yeah. Look out toward the field.”

He did as you said. The light caught the edge of his jaw. You swore the wind shifted just right to make his hoodie fall back slightly, revealing more of his hair, the side of his neck.

Click.

“You doing okay?” you asked, gently lowering the camera.

He looked over at you, brow slightly raised. “I feel like an idiot just standing and walking here.”

You chuckled. “You don’t look like one. I promise.”

“You say that ‘cause you’re behind the camera. You got all the power,” he teased.

You smirked. “Exactly. So shut up and pose.”

He huffed again, but there was a softness behind it now.

After a few more photos, you walked up to him, showing him one of the shots on the screen.

His eyes scanned the image. Then he frowned—barely.

“Don’t like it?” you asked.

“No, it’s good. Just… I don’t know. I look too soft.”

You looked up at him.

“That’s why it’s good.”

He held your gaze for a second longer than he probably meant to. There it was again. That invisible thread. You lifted the camera back up. “Alright. Try sitting down over here—on the edge of the bleachers.”

He followed your direction, hands on his knees, eyes cast downward at first. The sky behind him was bleeding orange and gold.

Click

You didn’t tell him to smile. His face, even resting, said everything.

After a while, You both sat on the edge of the bleachers, your camera resting in your lap. The sky had shifted from gold to blue-gray, the wind growing cooler now that the sun had dipped below the trees. For a while, neither of you said anything. You just let yourselves sit there, shoulder to shoulder.

Tommy’s hands were clasped in front of him, His hoodie sleeves were pushed up slightly, revealing the curve of his forearms. He was staring out at the field like there was something out there he couldn’t name.

You looked over at him, lips parting, then closing again. Your fingers tightened slightly around your camera. You weren’t sure if you should ask. But it had been sitting in your chest like a stone ever since that night at the gym.

“Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

“You just did.”

You smiled faintly, despite the nerves. “What happened? I mean… after high school. You just—disappeared.”

The silence stretched long between you as you looked down to your feet, “Sorry. You don’t have to answer. I just… always wondered.”

“My mom got sick.”

“I left with her,” he continued. “She didn’t want to die there. Didn’t want to be near him. So we packed what we could and drove west. Stayed with some family friends for a while.”

His jaw clenched, “She died not long after we got there.”

You stayed quiet. The way he said it, like it was something he hadn’t said out loud in years. Maybe ever.

“I joined the Marines a year later,” he said. “Needed to get the fuck out. Needed to do something that made sense. I figured if I could fight for something else, maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’d already lost everything.”

Your throat felt tight, maybe feeling a little upset that he kept it away from you. But then again, who were you to be upset at his decision?

“I didn’t tell anyone,” he added, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “Not Brendan. Not my dad. Not you.”

“Why?” you asked softly.

He finally turned to look at you.

“Because I didn’t think anyone would care.”

Your heart cracked in half, feeling yourself getting more upset.

“I would’ve cared,” you whispered.

Tommy didn’t say anything. But he looked at you like he believed it—and like that belief hurt.

You wanted to reach for his hand, but you couldn’t, stopped by the invisible wall between the two of you.

You both sat in silence again, the air heavier now—but not unbearable. Just full of things that had never been said.

Suddenly you remembered.

Flashback — High School

You were sixteen, and your camera was still new, hanging from your neck with a bright yellow strap. The film was cheap, the lens a little scratched, but to you, it was magic.

You and Tommy sat behind the old gym building, near the school, leaning back against sun-warmed bricks. He had a split lip from a fight two days earlier. You had a scratch on your arm from your father slapping your camera out of your hands when he saw the newest roll.

“You should stop taking pictures if it gets you in trouble,” Tommy had muttered, gazing at the cracked pavement.

You shook your head, biting down the sting in your throat. “It’s the only thing I’m good at. And he hates it.”

Tommy turned to look at you then—his eyes were darker than the bruises on his face.

“Fuck what he thinks.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden heat in his voice.

He took a deep breath, then added quieter, “One day…When I get outta here, I’m gonna take you somewhere nice. Not this shit town. Real places. Good light. Big skies. You’ll take pictures so beautiful it’ll shut him the fuck up.”

You laughed softly. “That sounds impossible.”

“It ain’t,” he said, dead serious. “You deserve to go somewhere that don’t make you feel like you’re small.

He reached out and tugged gently at your camera strap, just enough to pull the camera into his hand. He turned it toward you and squinted through the viewfinder.

“You’re the only thing that looks good in this place anyway,” he muttered, then snapped the photo.

Present

You turned your head to look at him—older, bruised, tired—but still that same boy, somewhere underneath all that hurt.

“ You remember when you said you’d take me to nice places?”

Tommy looked over at you. His expression shifted—almost like a wince. Like it hurt to remember that moment.

“Yeah, I do”

“And now here we are,” you smiled. “Maybe this isn’t Venice or New York or whatever, but…”

You gestured toward the field. The golden light now long gone, replaced with deep blue shadows and a soft, humming silence.

“It’s a nice place”

You looked down at your hands, resting in your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the lens cap of your camera. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you.

And then, gently and hesitantly—his hand reached for yours.

Callused fingers brushed over your knuckles before settling around them, his grip was firm but unsure, like he didn’t quite know if he was allowed. He exhaled, slowly. Like he’d been holding that breath for years.

“I meant it, y’know,” he said.

“That day behind the gym,” he murmured. “When I said I’d take you to all the nice places… places where you’d finally feel like you mattered.”

His voice wavered, just slightly, “I still want to do that.”

“But not just for you,” he added, more softer now. “For me, too. Maybe I need to see those places more than I thought. I want to see them with you”

You swallowed hard, throat full of things you couldn’t say yet, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“You’re already doing it, Tommy,” you whispered.

“This is one of them.”

His thumb brushed lightly over the back of your hand, “I know I fucked up back then,” he said. “I letft without a word. Didn’t think I deserved to come back.”

“But I wanna try again, Y/n. I wanna do right by you this time.”

His eyes met yours, steady— and it gentler than you’d ever seen them, more than you remembered.

Everyone always said Tommy was like the moon. Cold and distant. And always drifting in his own orbit. But not to you. To you, Tommy Conlon was the sun. Your sun.

When he smiled, it was the brightest star. When he spoke, his voice was the sweetest morning dew—warm and aching with things he didn’t know how to say properly.

“I should’ve taken you with me,” he said. “Back then. I wanted to. I thought about it more times than I can count, believe me.”

You stared at him, your heart breaking and blooming all at once.

He swallowed, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles now.1

“But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I’ll take you.”

His voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t look away.

“To all the nice places we couldn’t go.”

#tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy #Warrior #tommy conlon #tom hardy x reader #Tommy conlon x reader #tom hardy x you #Tom hardy fanfic #Warrior 2011 #Tommy conlon x you

67 notes · View notes

puck-luck · 8 months ago

Text

one bed trope by design | 4.6K | dm builds (& breaks) a bed in hopes of getting into fem!reader's pants

two beds again | 1K | part two of one bed trope by design

the adventurous one | 2K | dm & fem!reader take a hike

instigation investigation | 1.1K | fem!reader relieves dm's frustrations after the april 3rd, 2024 devils & rangers game (and fight)

the art of loving you | 2.2K | jm & fem!reader celebrate their anniversary, a little belatedly.

moving along | 2.5K | jm is traded from pittsburgh to new jersey & has to prove to fem!reader that the move isn't such a bad thing.

the open secret | 2.5K | sj gives fem!reader something to suck on.

gamer guy | 0.9K | ms looks hot, even when ignoring fem!reader to play his little video game.

co-eds | 10.5K | fem!reader and ms explore polyamory with jq.

all roads | 4.8K | ms puts fem!reader through the ringer during the most confusing situationship of her life.

co-eds | 10.5K | fem!reader and ms explore polyamory with jq.

play house with me | 2.9K | al & fem!reader fulfill a childhood pact.

closer than close | 3.9K | fem!reader knows that she'll be able to solve all rumors about she and mb being "more than friends" after they kiss once– when they feel nothing, then that'll be the end of it.

119 notes · View notes

senditcolton · 6 months ago

Text

youthfully felt

I need to be youthfully felt 'cause god I've never felt young

summary: Sidney Crosby is simply… tired. Of everything. That's how he found himself at a seedy dive bar, drinking his misery away. Then enters Jade Watkins. She offers an escape from the scrutiny, the pressure, the fear, and soon Sidney finds himself falling for the girl who saved him just in time. But does he truly love her? Or does he just love the way she makes him feel? song inspo: Jackie and Wilson by Hozier word count: 11.2k warnings: hinted intimacy (non-explicit), language, resolved angst, and pregnancy at the very end

When people ask which places Sidney Crosby frequents in the large city of Pittsburgh, the answer is not a seedy little downtown bar. That was not the kind of place anyone would expect to find the Penguins captain. It was not a place for someone like him.

But there he was, sitting in a cracked leather booth on a warm May night. What was he doing here? Well… it was the perfect place to disappear. And that’s what Sidney wanted to do, at least for a little while.

Last season had been rough, on everyone. The injuries, the conflicts, the losses, and the constant scrutiny. Despite all of that, the team managed to fight their way up the standings, the race to the playoffs the closest it had been in years. Sid thought that maybe that turn-around, that fight, would be enough for the hungry fans that wanted nothing more than to see success. But he should have known that unless the season ended with a silver trophy, it would never be enough. And unfortunately, the Penguins lost their playoff spot by the barest of margins. And the fans were left with a bitter taste in their mouths instead of a satisfying ending.

Usually, Sidney would’ve shared their hunger and wouldn’t have felt satiated until his arms felt the weight of that 30-pound chalice. But now… he just felt tired.

Tired of living up to that impossible expectation that others held him to. Tired of the eyes that constantly turned to him and analyzed him whenever something went wrong. Tired of the whispers, the criticism that he never seemed to be able to escape.

Was Sidney Crosby losing his touch? Will one too many injuries end this once great hockey player’s career? Should he hang up his skates and let the club move onto to brighter futures? How much time does Sidney Crosby have left?

Those statements and worse had been floating around him for the past few years but he never let them break in. Instead, he used them as fuel to prove the nay-sayers wrong. But this year, the scrutiny felt worse than it ever had before and instead of the words motivating him, they crumbled the walls that he had built. They broke him down and that made him angry.

He gave everything to hockey. He gave up so much of his childhood, his adolescence, his youth, his life, to this sport, this city, to those fans. How much more did he need to prove himself? How much more would people demand of him? How much more would he be forced to give?

Doubtful, resentful, tired Sidney Crosby. The once great player of the National Hockey League.

That was how he felt and part of him didn’t want to pretend to be anything else tonight. And he assumes that’s how he found himself here.

He couldn’t remember the name of the bar where he currently sat. All he knew was this was the last place people would come looking for him. This was not a place to sight a celebrity. This was a place for drifters, rejects, people who had given up on their lives or didn’t care enough to try. It felt like a place that was stuck in the past; the smell of old beer and cigarette smoke, the dim lighting courtesy of dust accumulated through years of indifference.

Sidney sits in a booth in the back corner, the cracked leather digging into the back of his thighs. His hand casually wraps around the beer bottle in front of him, gently spinning it, feeling it resist as the glass clings to the stickiness of spilled alcohol lingering on the wood.

This place is not bright, it’s not shiny. It’s a place where this beaten, broken down version of himself could simply exist, baseball cap pulled low because even though this was the exact opposite of where he should be, that didn’t stop some patron’s eyes from lingering on him a little too long. But no one approached him. Maybe they could read it, feel his energy, understand that he did not want to be bothered. And for that, he was thankful. He couldn’t pretend to be the person everyone expected him to be, even from people who may have expected nothing.

He brings the bottle up to his lips, letting the lukewarm amber liquid fall into his mouth, trickling down his throat. He doesn’t let it drop until the last of the beer vanishes and he places the empty glass back with a resounding thud, pushing it so it clinks against the two other bottles abandoned on the table. He flags the bartender down, silently requesting another. He knows he shouldn’t but the fact that he shouldn’t is the very reason why he does. He’s making a choice that feels good for him, in this very moment. Damn the consequences.

A few moments and another clink echoes around him as the bartender delivers the next bottle and Sid hands them another bill, elegantly folded between his outstretched fingers, a token of discretion for both him and the worker, if they think of running their mouth. The bartender takes the money from him and moves back to their spot behind the bar-top and the seemingly pointless job of wiping down the counter.

Sid quickly peeks at his watch, checking the time. 11:52. Almost midnight. He resigns himself to this, his last drink, and he slowly sips from the bottle’s lips. The walk back to his car still parked outside PPG will give him time to sober up. The night is still warm and this way, he won’t have to worry about hustling an Uber, another potential leak that might gab about a Crosby that seemingly sunk so low. He’s about to take the last swig and leave until the creak of the front door alerts him to someone else entering the bar.

He doesn’t really intend to look. But there is some inexplicable force that calls him to. And that’s when he sees her.

She walks in, the breeze following her from outside, ruffling her long black hair and lightly fluttering the edge of the red plaid shirt adorning her body. Sidney watches as her eyes scan over the dimly lit bar and he subconsciously feels himself lift up, as if he wanted to catch her attention. He quickly deflates when those eyes simply pass over him, as if he was just another patron.

He watches as she waltzes to the bar, leaning forward and places her elbows on the wood. He hears a few muttered words to the bartender and based on her hushed conversation and body language, he realizes that this bar was a place she frequented. She was not a girl who got lost after a night out with her friends, who just happened to wander into the closest bar. No, she was familiar with this place. It perplexed him. One look at her and Sid knew that she didn’t belong here.

But not in the same way as him.

Sidney Crosby in a bar like this the equivalent of a shiny new penny that catches your eye when you see it at the bottom of a dingy fountain and wonder how it even came to be there. But her…

He couldn’t quite describe it. There was something about her; her energy, the way she carried herself. It was as if she was a creature who willingly walked into the darkest part of the forest and yet showed no fear. As if she knew she didn’t belong here, but didn’t care. Because it wasn’t that her that needed to figure out how to exist in this place. It was this place that needed to learn how to handle her.

Sidney was captivated.

And yet, when she spins on the bar stool, an Old Fashioned in hand, those eyes moving to once again gaze over the patrons of the bar, Sidney finds himself looking away, his own eyes jumping back to memorize the ridges on the mouth of his beer bottle. He didn’t know what made him look away, what made him shrink down, especially when he was vying for her attention when she first walked in. But whatever the reason, he was content to stay that way until he knew she was gone.

The last thing he expected was the crackle of dried leather shifting underneath someone else’s weight, sitting down across from him. And her green eyes staring back at him when he looked up.

“Never expected to run into a celebrity here,” she muses out loud, those eyes shamelessly looking him up and down. Sidney’s eyes tear away, ducking back down, hoping his baseball cap hid the way his cheeks turned pink.

The laughter that escapes her lips is intoxicating and Sidney feels his cheeks warm even more when he realizes she was laughing at him.

“Don’t worry, superstar,” she says, eyes moving to peruse the nearly empty bar once more. “I won’t tell anyone that you were here. I know the look of someone who wants to hide.”

Sidney’s eyes jump back up to her at her words and he can tell that she was willfully ignoring his puzzling gaze.

“You don’t look like someone who hides anything,” Sidney says, the words falling from his mouth before he can think them through and he feels himself blush again as she laughs.

“Is that your go-to line? If so, it needs some work.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that… I mean, you – “Sidney stumbles over his words and she giggles again at his attempts to rectify his words.

“You know,” she says, gently interrupting him, “I expected you to be more articulate, y’know, being an NHL captain and all. But then again,” she continues as she notices his jaw clench at her words, “you’re here. So maybe there’s more to you than what everyone thinks.”

Sidney’s mouth drops open, shocked at how easily she was able to read him. How she managed to see him, truly see him. He watches as she turns back towards him and suppresses the shudder that wants to run through him as her knees knock against his underneath the table.

“So, tell me superstar,” she says, the teasing lilt in her voice clear, “why are you here?”

“You’re really beautiful,” Sidney says, the words once again being spoken before he thinks them over and her laughter falls over him in a gentle wave. He feels heat threatening to rise to his cheeks once more but he also feels his lips pull into a smile, a gentle chuckle rumbling through him as well.

“That was a much better pick-up line than before. Glad to see improvement.”

“And who says I was trying to pick you up?” Sidney replies and her eyebrows shoot up as she glances at him. He shoots a gentle smile back and it takes a moment before she realizes he is teasing her as much as she was him. She smirks back at him, slightly shrugging her shoulders.

“Fair enough.”

Sidney watches as she lifts her glass to her lips, eyes dancing away from him. As her gaze falls from him, Sidney is struck with the thought that he would do anything to get her eyes on him again. And as if she can hear his thoughts, she looks back to him.

“Let’s make a deal then,” she says, a bright glint in her eyes. “No more assumptions. At least, for the rest of the night. Deal?” She reaches out to him and he can’t help but look at the offered hand, decked out in rings and chipped nail polish.

“Deal,” he says and he reaches out his own hand to gently clasp hers, the callouses on his palms and fingers built up after years and years, sliding against her smooth skin. He shakes her hand before pulling away. What he didn’t expect was the feeling of disappointment that ran through him when his hand fell from hers.

“Well, now that we got that out of the way,” she starts, breaking the silence that lay heavily between the two, “you still didn’t answer my original question. What are you doing here, superstar?”

“I’m not sure,” Sidney answers, shrugging his shoulders.

“Bullshit.”

“I thought we agreed no assumptions?” he shoots back and she can’t stop the smile that appears.

“I don’t think that’s an assumption. There must be some reason, something that brought you here. I mean, this isn’t really a place for anyone, let alone someone like you.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Not happening, superstar. I’m not showing you mine until you show me yours.”

“Well, that seems a little like extortion,” Sidney replies, laughing at her smirk and the way she rolls her eyes at him.

“That would be coercion, not extortion. I would have to demand money from you for it to be extortion. So, unless you’re willing to pay money to learn my life story, then you’ll just have to keep wondering.”

“Oh, so now you are extorting me.” She laughs, gently shaking her head and Sidney watches and wishes there was a way he could hear that laughter forever.

“I suppose I am,” she sighs, twiddling the rings on your fingers. The silence falls as she takes another sip of her drink before she speaks again. “I’m here because I used to know the owner.”

“Used to know?”

“Yeah. Used to. He’s not around anymore. Left me with only this bar to remember him by,” she explains. Her explanation was vague enough to not reveal the entire story was but the way her voice quieted, the way that her eyes went unfocused, makes Sidney realize that was all there was to say. She sighs, blinking a couple of times before focusing back onto him.

“Alright superstar. There’s my reason. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to be in a place where no one would recognize me,” he says and he slightly chuckles when he sees the smile appear on her face. “I guess I didn’t do very well.”

“No, you really didn’t. But I suppose there isn’t a lot of places where the great Sidney Crosby can hide.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, tearing his eyes away. It is a moment before he looks back at her and he is shocked to see a glimmer of understanding sadness in her expression.

Suppose they both were trying and failing to get away from the things that haunted them. And so, they sit, simply existing in this place where neither of them should be.

“Well,” she speaks, breaking the silence once more, “I suppose I’m not really helping you disappear. Guess I’ll see you around superstar.”

She kicks her legs out from underneath the table, scooting across the cracked leather, hand wrapped around the glass as she starts to leave. But before she can lift herself up from the booth, Sidney reaches out to her, his strong calloused hand wrapping around her wrist.

“Um,” is the first syllable out of Sidney’s mouth and his cheeks heat again as he sees the smile that pulls at her lips. “You don’t have to leave. I mean, it’s kind of nice talking to you. And besides,” he says, a crooked smirk appearing, “you haven’t successfully extorted me yet.”

“It’s not really extortion if you agree to it, you know.”

“Then just call it a date,” Sidney replies and he can see that she is slightly taken aback at his casual words.

“What exactly are you offering me, superstar? Are you gonna pick me up in a nice tux and take me to a fancy romantic restaurant, with roses and wine and then drive me home and leave me with a polite kiss on the cheek?”

“I thought we agreed no assumptions?” he says but he knows that she can see the light pink tinge on his cheeks and can easily guess that that was exactly what he was thinking.

“It wasn’t an assumption. It was a… prediction,” she shoots back, settling back down in the booth, fingers dancing over the glass of her Old Fashioned. “But hey, if I’m wrong, tell me now.”

Sidney sits there in silence, his hand wrapping around his bottle as he takes another swig of beer. He couldn’t respond to her challenge because it was true. And he hated that she could see right through him so easily. Or maybe he loved that within a few short moments of meeting him, she managed to laugh her way to the truth of him, break through all the people that he pretended to be.

He wasn’t quite sure which feeling was real. All he knew for certain is that he wanted more.

“Well,” he clears his throat, his eyes jumping back to hers. “What were you thinking of?”

Her fingers continue to circle the rim of her glass, her head tilting and gaze drifting away from him as she thinks. Then her eyes reattach to his and – with what Sidney could only describe as one of the most wicked smiles that he had seen – she plucks the cherry garnish from her drink. Sidney can’t take his eyes off of her as she drops the entire fruit into her mouth. He watches as she sits there for a moment, the red juice lingering on her lips and he would give anything to kiss the sour-sweet off. Her lips part and she plucks the cherry stem from in between her teeth, tossing it over the table. Sidney glances down and notices the perfect knot in the center. His eyes jump back up to her, that fucking grin still on her face.

“What do you say we just get out of here?”

The soft morning sunlight filters through the windows, dancing across Sidney’s face. And when his eyelids finally fluttered open, the first sight he was met with was a cluttered nightstand. His gaze dances over the candles, plants, and rings that littered the wood – the opposite of the clean and sleek table that sits beside his own bed. But then again, he wasn’t in his bed.

Sidney glances down and sees Jade curled up in his arms, her back against his chest, breaths falling softly. She had whispered her name to him last night, on the way to her apartment where he currently resided.

Last night was… he didn’t think he could describe it.

When she made her bold offer, there was a part of Sidney that wasn’t sure if he should agree. But there was something about her, something so unfathomable that Sidney couldn’t stop the pull of her gravity. And in that moment, he silenced the critical voice in his head and said yes.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. He was supposed to chalk it up as a little too much to drink, a lapse in judgement. But then she kissed him.

And Sidney realized that he never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again.

Last night, he felt alive. Jade had kissed him without pretense, without presumption. Her lips danced across his skin, counting every scar, leaving no inch untouched. She breathed life into the hollows of his neck, the ridges of his ribs and he was caught in the thrill of someone who willingly brought him to his knees. She surprised him, challenged him. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

But then again, he never met someone like her before.

A heavy sigh sounds from her and Sidney is startled out of his daydream, back to the present moment. Jade nestles deeper into the rumpled sheets, another sigh escaping her. Sidney’s arms impulsively tighten around her frame, pulling her closer, loving the way her skin felt against his. What he wouldn’t give to stay in this bed, forgetting about the world waiting for him outside.

But one glance at the alarm clock perched on the nightstand told him that he couldn’t.

The great Sidney Crosby had things to do.

With a defeated breath, Sidney presses a small kiss into her ruffled hair before carefully untangling himself from her grasp. He crawls out of the bed, picking up his clothes scattered on the floor where they fell the night before. As he gets redressed, Sidney lets his eyes jump around the room, as he tried to discern Jade’s story from the pictures on the walls, the books on the shelves, the knick-knacks decorating every free space. He wasn’t prying; that would be considered rude. But he wanted to know more about the woman that he shared a bed with. Wanted to see if he could understand the power she held over him.

He's leaning in close to a picture hung on the wall at the foot of the bed, his hand clasped behind him when he hears a small laugh echo around the room. He quickly spins around, a blush instantly rising to his cheeks. His eyes land on Jade, propped up on her elbows, the sheets clinging to her body.

“Are you spying on me superstar?” she asks and Sidney is relieved to hear the teasing lilt in the question. He can’t help but respond with a small smile of his own.

“Wasn’t my intention,” he replies, walking back towards her.

“Oh really? And what exactly was your intention?” she laughs as Sidney settles himself on the edge of the bed, the mattress slightly sinking underneath his weight.

“Just trying to figure out a mystery.”

“What mystery is that?”

“You,” he says softly, his gentle eyes dancing over her face, smiling as he watches her own smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Jade lifts herself off the mattress, sitting up completely and leaning in closer to him. Her chin comes to find a perch on his shoulder and she leans her cheek against him, breathing in the lingering cologne from his t-shirt. Sidney lets her rest there for a moment, choosing not to move away and instead watch as the rising sun paints the apartment golden.

“Keep wondering,” she whispers into the morning air. She turns her head to look up at him, a smirk painted onto her face as his eyes connect to hers. The sunlight catches her irises, setting the green alight. He watches as her gaze jumps from his eyes to his lips and back again but he doesn’t call her out on it because he knows his eyes are doing the exact same thing.

Sidney is the one to break first, leaning in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. He can hear her breath catch in her throat and part of him hopes she can understand the emotion behind his actions. How he is worshipping her without words. Her hands find their way up into his hair, fingers tangling into the peppered grey at his temples. Jade falls back down against the sheets, dragging Sidney down with her. He groans into the kiss, his arms caging her to the bed. But she didn’t seem to mind.

He breaks apart, leaving her to chase after his lips as his body retreats. A small chuckle rumbles from Sidney’s chest and Jade playfully glares up at him.

“I have to go,” he says, breaking the silence, a part of him aching as he watches her expression falter. He steels himself as he rises off the bed, moving towards the door, his hand wrapping around the door handle. But before he turns it, he looks back towards Jade, feeling her eyes still attached his frame.

“Am I going to see you again?”

“Only if you want to,” she teases and Sidney can’t stop the crooked smile from appearing on his face, eyes ducking down at her gentle prodding.

“I do,” he says, biting his lip and glancing back up at you. “Could I get your number? Or do you want mine?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jade laughs, Sidney’s expression shifting to one of confusion. She smiles back at him before continuing. “I’m sure it’ll be easy to find you in this city.”

Sidney laughs, happily falling back into the verbal tennis match that made him so drawn to her. He turns back towards the door, opening it gently and stepping over the threshold.

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you around,” he says, not hiding the hopeful rise in his voice.

“Catch you later, superstar.”

Days passed and Sidney still hadn’t heard from Jade. Or even seen her.

Every time he walked down the Pittsburgh streets, he hoped that he’d run into her; maybe coming out of the bustling farmers market or even on the street outside of PPG Arena. He had even entertained the thought of going back to the bar where they met in the hopes that she’d be there. But he never did.

She said that she would find him but every day that went by without a trace of her, Sidney’s hopes dimmed. And as time ticked by, an insidious thought entered Sidney’s mind; maybe she did this on purpose.

Maybe this was the way she operated, part of how she moved through life. Blew in out of nowhere, entered his world and turned it upside down, and then disappeared as quickly as she came.

Sidney didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that he would never see her again. There was something about her; he felt it from the moment she walked into that bar. Something that he wanted to continue to explore. Jade was fascinating and wild and free. She made Sidney feel young again, even in that one night. And that wasn’t something he had felt in a very long time.

Sidney has had eyes on him since he was a child. He was taught how to behave, how to act, how to be that good guy, on the ice but especially off the ice because his image was so closely tied with his success. People can hate you as much as they want for how you play, but if their only complaint is your skills and not your character, there is nothing they can take away from you.

It wasn’t that he hated it. He was thankful for everything that hockey brought him; family, friendship, and more prosperity than he knew what to do with. But part of him never felt like he got to be a kid.

He knew he could never go back and re-live that part of his life. But Jade… she made him feel youthful. And God, what he wouldn’t give to feel like that again.

These were the thoughts that were rattling around in his head as he walks down the Pittsburgh streets, the sun warming his back. He wasn’t sure of his destination or if he even had a destination. All he knew was that he needed the space, needed to take a moment to breathe. He keeps his head down, eyes focused on the concrete sidewalk, letting the cars speed past him. He doesn’t take note of anything around him which means he doesn’t notice the car that pulls up behind him.

“Hey there, stranger!” a voice calls out to him. He turns and there she is – Jade, sitting behind the wheel of a beautiful vintage convertible.

Her sunglasses are perched on the end of her nose, those green eyes playfully looking over the edge at him and he can’t help the smile that appears on his lips at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he says casually, turning towards her and walking over. He reaches the passenger door and leans against the side. “I thought you disappeared.”

“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about me?”

“Only every day,” Sidney coolly replies and she laughs at his words. And the way her laughter rings through the late noon has Sidney’s heart ringing with it.

“You know, your pick-up lines are improving every time we talk.”

“You’re a good influence on me, I suppose.”

“Ugh, there you go again Sidney Crosby,” she says, dramatically throwing her hand on her chest. “You know the way right to a girl’s heart!”

A warm chuckle rumbles through Sidney, his head slightly shaking at her antics. Her smile never leaves her face and he returns the grin as she takes him in; his warm skin, the bright sun lighting up his hair, his body calm and relaxed against her car.

“So,” Sidney starts, “what have you been up to?”

“Not much. Just looking for you,” Jade replies, shooting him that dazzling smile before kicking off the parking brake, shifting the car to drive. “Hop in.”

Sidney takes a step back, a little shocked by her sudden request. She shoots a glance back towards him and he knows that she has seen the shift in his demeanor. The smooth and relaxed guy that was there a second ago had disappeared. In his place was the closed-off Sidney Crosby that people were used to.

“Um” Sidney hesitates, his uncertainty the only thing he could speak.

“Come on, you know I’m not some crazy stalker,” she laughs. Her words don’t work as Sidney stays in his place. Jade sighs, shifting the car and placing the parking brake back on.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just not sure this is the best idea.”

“Was it a good idea for you to get drunk in a downtown bar a week ago?” she shoots back at him. Sidney knows she has him with those words because it wasn’t. But that’s exactly where she found him.

“C’mon superstar,” Jade says, her voice softening but still holding that teasing energy that drew him to her in the first place. “Don’t think about what anyone else would think. Do what your heart tells you to do. And if that’s walking away right now, then I’ll respect that. But I have a feeling that’s not the case.”

Sidney looks back at her, leaning back in the driver’s seat, that smile on her lips. How she was able to see through him so easily, after spending a single night with him, he’ll never know. But he knew for certain that he didn’t want to lose it. He didn’t want to how he felt when he was with her.

And before he could talk himself out of it, before he could let those voices in his head decide for him, he was tugging on the door handle and sliding himself onto the warm leather of the passenger’s seat.

Jade’s only reply to his actions is a bright smirk shot in his direction before she once again shifts the car to drive and pulls away from the curb and onto the Pittsburgh streets.

Sidney looks out, watching as the buildings and other cars pass by. Sometimes, when stopped at a traffic light, he thinks he notices people on the sidewalks or in the neighboring cars do a double take in his direction. He instinctively ducks or turns his head away, never wanting to draw attention to himself. But it doesn’t fully work.

A car speeds pass, horn honking and Jade and Sidney look up as a few boys lean out of the window.

“Hell yeah Sidney!!!” their shouts echo as they drive away and Sidney gives them a polite wave. Jade’s head turns towards him and an involuntary giggle falling from her lips at his chagrined expression.

“That’s got to be annoying,” she says, turning her attention back towards the road.

“I don’t mind it,” Sidney replies, his somewhat practiced words falling from his lips.

“Bullshit.”

Sidney’s eyes jump to Jade, her serious yet relaxed face turned towards the road. She releases a sigh as she senses his eyes on her. Without looking at him, she continues.

“C’mon superstar. Part of you must want to live your life without all the eyes of Pittsburgh on you.”

Sidney doesn’t reply, instead choosing to turn his head back to look at the passing scenery. He didn’t want to admit it but she was right. There were moments in his life that he wondered what it would be like if he was not Pittsburgh Penguin Captain #87, the great Sidney Crosby, one of the best NHL players and he was simply… Sidney.

There she was, once again reading him like the well-worn pages of old book.

The silence weighs heavily, a stark contrast to the spring breeze that rustled through the air. Jade shoots a quick glance in Sidney’s direction and find him still turned away.

“Look, I’m sorry. That was presumptuous on my part,” she says, eyes returning to the road stretched out ahead. Sidney’s face turns back to look at her, watches as her hands tighten around the steering wheel, reading the anxiety that coiled in her body.

“I thought we agreed no assumptions?” he jokes, echoing the words from the first night they met. Jade laughs, the noise immediately lifting the fog from between them.

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

She continues to turn down the busy streets and Sidney lets himself relax back into the present moment. He watches as Jade glances up at the traffic signs before a smirk appears on her face. It stays on her lips as she turns to connect her eyes with Sidney.

“Do you want to get out of this town?”

Even though her eyes are obscured by her tinted sunglasses, Sidney knows that bright mischievous energy is sure to be sparkling in those green eyes, the look that pulled him to her that very first night. Without thinking, he nods in agreement. Her grin widens as she turns onto the highway that leads out of the heart of Pittsburgh.

They zip down the interstate, the wind ruffling Jade’s hair as they drive further out of the city. She glances back at Sidney and smiles as she sees him relaxed against the passenger seat, his energy seemingly calmer, his chest rising and falling, breathing in the fresh air, the smile never leaving his face.

Eventually, Sidney turns his eyes back to Jade and watches her in the same way.

Part of him felt like he was running away; running from his problems and his worries. However, he knew that if he ever did decide to run away from his troubles, that also meant running away from the things that meant the most; friends, his career, his success. But right now, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Because deep down he knew he would run from anything if it meant running with her.

He watches as Jade reaches down to turn on the radio, scanning until she lands on a station playing some old classic rock and leans back, letting the music dance through the light breeze. Her lips start to move, quietly mouthing along to the lyrics as the world races by. Over the noise of the breeze, traffic, and music, it takes her a minute to register a different voice accompanying the radio. Jade peeks over to see Sidney singing along to the music, his hands tapping a rhythm onto the passenger side door. With a smile, she reaches again and turns the music up, looking back at Sidney with a grin.

“Oh, the movie never ends, it goes on and on and on and on,” she joins in, the grin never leaving her as her eyes goad Sidney on. Sidney reads her challenge and continues singing, his volume increasing.

“Strangers waitin’ up and down the boulevard their shadows searchin’ in the night.”

“Streetlights, people. Livin’ just to find emotion.”

“Hidin’ somewhere in the night!” Sidney leans his head back, hitting that high note, causing another bought of laughter to fall from Jade’s lips. He looks back to her, the smile dancing across his lips as he watches; her head throw back, her child-like laughter cascading through the air. And that feeling hit him again; that feeling of youth and freedom.

Sidney didn’t have to pretend to be anyone with her. He could simply be.

They continue down the road, singing and laughing as the world passes by. After what seems like hours, Jade turns off the highway, taking an exit that Sidney didn’t recognize.

“Where are we going?” he questions, looking back as the crowded turnpike disappears behind him.

“No place special.”

Sidney doesn’t feel like prying so he remains silent and lets Jade move along the small desolate roads. Throughout the drive, he constantly looks back at her, watching as she confidently turns down side streets, as if she had followed this path a hundred times. Another part of the mystery of her.

Jade drives onto a dirt road, passing a worn wooden sign that Sidney can barely read and follows the path up a small hill until she parks at the edge of a lookout. He watches as she hops out and walks to the front of the car, leaning against the hood. It takes a few seconds until Sidney is following, finding his place in the empty space next to her. He looks out onto the scenery and it taken aback.

Jade had brought him to a lake, the trees crowding the edges, the water gently sloshing against the shore. The sun shined down on the scene, making the water below sparkle. His eyes couldn’t stay still as he took in everything around him: the sugar-spun clouds, the towering oak trees, the groups of dandelions that line the edge of the hill. He stays silent as he sits next to Jade, letting the only noise be the rustling of the leaves around him and the quiet birdsong.

A few moments pass before Sidney looks back at her and feels his heart leap. She is staring out over the scenery, the wind ruffling the edges of her shirt, the pale blue sky reflected in her eyes. There is nothing special about how she looked and he loved that. She wasn’t performing for him or for anyone. She simply existed.

Sidney watches as she lifts herself up off the car and wanders to the edge of the lookout, the sunlight tracing her frame. Crouching down, she plucks some of the dandelions from the grass, lifting them up and letting the bright yellow flowers wiggle in her grasp.

“Do you like dandelions?” she asks, her eyes never departing from the task at hand.

“I never thought about it,” Sidney answers truthfully.

“I think they’re lovely,” she softly says, her fingertips tracing the golden petals.

“But they’re just weeds, right?”

A breathy laugh falls from her lips as she straightens herself up, the flowers still held in her grasp. She wanders over to Sidney, slotting herself between his parted thighs. Sidney can feel his breath catch in his throat as she leans towards him, pulling a dandelion from the small bouquet.

“And who says weeds aren’t lovely?” she whispers to him, gently placing the flower behind his ear and he can’t suppress the shiver that runs through him at the feeling of the petals against his skin and her fingers tracing down the back of his neck.

“So beautiful and so stubbornly alive.”

Her gentle words are enough for Sidney to lean in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. She sighs against his lips, her arms absentmindedly wrapping around his shoulders as his hands find their place on her hips, pulling her closer. The kiss deepens as Sidney is pulls her down, her body draped over him as his back rests against the warm metal of the hood. Jade finally breaks away, departing breathless above Sidney. Sidney looks up at her, his hazel eyes warm as he lifts his hand, coming to cradle her cheek, his thumb gently tracing over the smooth skin.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he murmurs.

Jade pauses and Sidney swears the world stops as his confession lingers in the late May air. Sidney keeps his breathing strong and steady underneath Jade as he waits for her response. The glimmering hope in his eyes falter as a laugh from her lips instead of the words he hopes to hear.

“So rational, Sidney. Falling for a woman you just met,” she says, voice light and dismissive. Sidney’s eyebrows furrow at the shift in her energy, watching as she lifts herself up, pushing her body away from him and off the car. She returns to her spot next to him on the edge of the hood, eyes returning to overlook the scenery in front of her.

“You barely know me.”

Sidney knows that she can feel his eyes on her but she doesn’t turn around. He reaches his arm out towards her and can feel the shiver that runs through her as his fingers graze over her hips.

“I want to.”

Those gentle words are what causes her to finally turn back to him, her eyes connecting to his. The look on his face is so truthful, so earnest. A small smile appears on her lips and Sidney lets out a breath of relief that he didn’t know he was holding.

“Is that your best pick-up line?” she quips.

“As long as it works,” Sidney teases back, wanting to keep the light-hearted energy between the two of them flowing. She laughs that brilliant beautiful laugh that captured him that first night and lifts herself up off the car. She extends a hand out to him which he gladly takes, lifting himself up before moving closer to her, his arms wrapping around her waist once more.

This time it is Jade who makes the first move, lifting herself up to connect her lips to his. They stand there, entangled in each other’s arms, the sunlight warming their bodies. And Sidney feels instantly lighter when she finally breaks away.

“Come on, superstar,” she says, peeling away from him. “Let’s get you home.”

She hops back in the car, Sidney following close behind, before retracing the path back to the bright lights of the now dark Pittsburgh streets. And when Jade pulls her car up outside Sidney’s house in his affluent neighborhood, it takes everything in him not to invite her inside.

But Sidney still has a smile on his face as he opens the front door and turns to watch her car disappear around the corner. Because in his pocket is a dandelion along with an old receipt, with her phone number hastily scrawled on the back.

The months that Sidney shares with Jade pass in a blur. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t rushed. It was just how it felt; a swift stumble into a romance that felt as soft as summer and as gentle as the setting sun. It felt like something out of a movie: a romance filled with honey and lemons – bright and sweet and wild.

Sidney was in constant awe of Jade; how she moved through the world, how fearless and unapologetic she was. He had never met anyone like her.

He had been everywhere, all over the country, all over the world. He had played in front of thousands of people, each one of them cheering his name. And he would trade it all, every experience, if he could be promised that he’d never have to live without hearing her soft voice whispering secrets in the golden-filled hours under white covers, eyelids heavy and the scent of magnolias drifting through the open windows.

There were moments when Sidney didn’t think she was real. That she was an apparition that he conjured up from one of his wildest dreams. But she was real and every moment he spent with her, he became more certain that she was made for him.

These were the thoughts where dancing through his head as he watches her move throughout his living room, her body lightly dancing to the tune she was humming underneath her breath. He sits on the couch, just watching her, his t-shirt hanging from her frame, the early afternoon sun dancing on her skin. She turns, a smile on her lips that Sidney shares. That bright laugh falls from Jade as she waltzes over him, her body coming to a stop between his outstretched thighs. Her hand reaches out, gently running through his hair, following a path down to his cheek, her touch bouncing between every freckle. She giggles as his lips kisses her fingertips each time they get too close to his lips.

Jade turns away from him and starts to exit the living room. But she stops in her tracks at the sound of Sidney’s voice.

“I love you.”

The world seems to stop when those words fall from his lips. He said it before, that day in May overlooking the lake. But it was a question back then, a hesitation. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said that day. And that one word, that uncertainty, held him back from the truth he knew. But now…

Jade turns around to see Sidney sitting there on the couch and when her eyes dance over his face, Sidney knows that she can see the honesty painted there. He was sure of his words and wanted her to believe him when he said it. He was in love with her; that much was certain. So, there he sat, still looking at her, silently praying that she would say the words in return.

Instead, it is a laugh that echoes around the room.

“That’s sweet superstar. Do you tell that to every wide-eyed girl you know?” she quips. Sidney’s eyebrows furrow as the confused replaces the certainty that used to be on his face.

“What are you saying?” he asked, his bewildered tone clear.

“What are you saying, Sidney? You love me?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“What do you mean ‘I don’t’?” Sidney questions as he lifts himself off the couch cushions, taking a small step towards her. He hears the light-hearted sigh she lets out as she turns away before his voice stops her again.

“Please, look at me.”

Jade turns back towards him, looking him in the eye.

“You don’t love me, Sidney. You don’t.”

“What does that mean?”

She scoffs, and the lack of explanation frustrates him, causing him to continue.

“No, tell me why you don’t think I love you. What have we been doing for the past few months? Just having fun?”

“Yes,” she snaps, “yes, Sidney that is exactly what we’ve been doing. That’s what this is; you looking for a distraction and me being the one to give you that.”

“Is that how you see us? Is that how you see me? That I’m just using you for… my own gain? How could you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re doing Sidney,” she says with a venom in her voice that Sidney was entirely unaware existed. “Maybe you don’t realize it but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. I don’t understand why you would think that. When I met you that night in that bar, there was something. Something pulled me to you, I don’t know what it was, but there was something, you can’t deny that. And you found me. I don’t care if that sounds stupid or cliché but you found me at the right time and… and you saved me. I was drowning and you saved me.”

She scoffs again at his words and Sidney still can’t understand her reaction.

“You did,” he continues, his voice raising, taking on a pleading edge that he should’ve been ashamed of but he didn’t care. He wanted Jade to talk to him. “I felt like shit, I was angry and spiteful and tired. God, I was so fucking tired. And then you came along and you changed that. With everything you do; the way you laugh, your smile, your attitude. It was refreshing and freeing. You made me feel young and in love and I never felt like that before. And I do love you because of it.”

“My God, Sidney,” she yells, the damn finally breaking. “Do you even hear yourself? This – that – that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” She starts to pace around the room, the frustrated energy radiating off her in waves. “I’m not here to complete you or make you feel young or save you. That’s not my fucking job.”

As soon as those words escape her, Sidney realizes how he fucked up. He starts to open his mouth in an attempt to back-track, to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way. But before he can utter a single syllable, Jade cuts him off again.

“And that’s what I mean when I say that you are using me. I’m this girl who showed up at the right time and everything about me is fun and unique and wild and carefree. That’s who you want me to be, so I can fit into that pretty little narrative you created in your head. You don’t love me, Sidney. You love that woman, that idealized version that you made. But I’m not her. I’m not that girl.”

She sighs, energy spent as she collapse onto the armchair in the corner, eyes downcast.

“You look at me Sidney. But you don’t see me.”

Sidney shifts in place before moving over towards her. However, even though she could clearly hear his approach, Jade doesn’t lift her head as he kneels down, his warm palms coming to rest on her thighs.

“I do see you. I promise I do. There’s so many things about you that I love and –”

“Name one,” she says, those piercing green eyes locking with his. Sidney flinches when he sees the distance shining within her irises. “Name one thing you love about me that doesn’t benefit you.”

Her challenge hangs heavy in the air as Sidney open his mouth, leaving it gaping for a moment before closing it once more. And he can’t stop the small wince that pangs through him at the humorless laugh falls from her lips.

“That’s what I thought,” she sighs. “I’ve been there before. I’ve been with people like that before. I know you think you love me but you don’t. As soon as I show any vulnerability, anything that you can’t slap a pretty little filter over, anything that doesn’t fit into your daydream, you’ll wake up… and then you’ll leave. You’re going to tell me that you won’t, that you’re not like all the rest but…”

Her words trail off and Sidney wants to know why. He wants to know what he could say to her to prove that he was different. That he did love her, that he did want to be with her. That he would stay forever by her side.

He wanted to know why her heart was battered, beaten. How it had become like a scared animal backed into a corner, timid and mistrustful.

“I promised myself that I would never go through that again. I can’t,” she finishes, pushing his hands off of her as she lifts herself off the armchair. Sidney watches as she grabs her keys, walking to his front door, placing her hand on the handle, ready to walk out of Sidney’s life. But before she does, she looks back towards him, still kneeling on the ground, his hazel eyes locked on her frame.

“I’m sorry,” she says and Sidney isn’t quite sure what she is apologizing for. But those words feel as definitive as a goodbye. And those are the words she leaves him with as she walks out of his house.

Sidney stays there, watching as the door closes, the resounding click of the latch falling into place echoing through his home and only one thought similarly reverberating through his mind:

Where did he go wrong?

He thought she felt the same. No, he was certain that she felt the same way about him. Sidney was and could be many things but reckless with his emotions was never one of them. His head spun with the moments that he had shared with her throughout the months.

At first, he couldn’t think of any instance that he could confidently say that was the sign, the indication that she didn’t feel the same. But as he continued to think, as he pushed away that love-struck haze that covered those memories, he realized that there had been some moments; moments where she pulled away from him. She hid it well, with her laughter and jokes concealing a deeper meaning, a hurt that he never bothered to investigate more of.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he got too caught up in how she made him feel that he didn’t put in the effort to uncover who she really was.

But the more he thought about it, he realizes that he didn’t just sweep those moments under the rug, didn’t ignore them. He pushed as much as he thought he could, never wanting to overstep the boundaries that she had set. Sometimes he felt as if he got close but every time he felt that way, a wall he didn’t even notice separated him from her. It wasn’t easy. But Sidney knew that he would wait forever for Jade to tell him those stories that she kept under lock and key.

Yes, there were moments where things weren’t perfect, where he made mistakes, where communication fell flat. But part of him knew that those beautiful moments he shared with her, where he did truly see her, were enough to chase after her. Because there was no way that the past few months weren’t real.

The speed that Sidney grabs his coat and car keys is hectic to say the least but he knows that he can’t waste anymore seconds. There is a very real possibility that Jade would be lost to him forever, gone as fast as a midnight cigarette. He jumps into his car, making his way down the winding Pittsburgh streets to her apartment building. He is ready to scramble out and hit the buzzer of her apartment until she responds. That is, until he takes a quick look around the small parking lot and doesn’t see Jade’s vintage convertible anywhere.

A frustrated sigh escapes his chest as he takes out his phone, dialing Jade’s number but only getting her voicemail. His body slumps against the driver’s seat, a wave of defeat washing over him, a feeling that he didn’t want to accept. He closes his eyes as his brain desperately flips through his memories, trying to find something that could tell him where she might be.

Suddenly, a crystal-clear image pops into his mind; sunglasses perched on her nose, the wind whipping around her convertible, that wicked smile dancing on her lips, her voice light;

“Do you want to get out of this town?”

His eyes fly open as he kicks his car into reverse, driving back onto the streets. After a few minutes, Sidney is on the highway leaving downtown and bringing him closer to rural Pennsylvania and hopefully, closer to her.

Part of him worries that he’ll make a wrong turn somewhere, delaying him and potentially costing him his last opportunity to reach Jade. He didn’t have the exact map in his mind. She had only brought him there once, that day in May and he hadn’t taken the time to memorize the specific route. All he had to go on was the bare bones of his memory and the landscape and signs around him.

But it seemed the universe was on his side; the setting sun is guiding his path. He recognizes enough small landmarks, telling him that he was headed the right way and it wasn’t long until he found himself pulling up to that old wooden sign.

He turns onto the dirt road, following the path up that small hill, that outlook where Jade took him those months ago. There is a whisper of fear within him, scared that he would make it to the top and it would be empty. That she would be gone completely from his life and he would never be able to find her again. But then he turns that final corner.

And there her vintage convertible sits, parked on the top of the hill.

And there she sits, leaning against the hood, looking out at the sunset.

Sidney parks his car behind hers, letting the engine die and plunging the lakeside back into the almost silence of nature; the wind in the trees being the only sound.

Hopping out of the car, Sidney moves towards Jade, partially expecting her to turn back or acknowledge him in any way. She must have heard him, must have heard the car door and his feet crunching the gravel beneath him. But she doesn’t react; her eyes stay locked on the horizon. Even when Sidney reaches her, leaning the hood next to her. The silence hangs heavy until Sidney finally speaks.

“You hate the ends of garlic bread,” he says, his voice soft. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Jade’s head whip towards him, his words clearly not the ones that she was expecting. He doesn’t look in her direction though, instead choosing to stare into the same sunset that she was moments ago.

“You hum any song when you’re cooking or doing chores,” he continues, his voice sure and steady. “You will use anything as a bookmark. You always catch the spiders your apartment and release them instead of killing them. You put cinnamon sticks in your coffee. You always point out cows when you drive. You move around in your apartment just to make sure you’re always sitting in sunlight. You love gardening and want to have a yard so you can grow flowers and fruits and vegetables and herbs.”

He continues to list these things about her. And it’s not just the beautiful things; it’s the ugly, scared, vulnerable things he’s noticed too. He’s describing these moments, these little things that he doesn’t even know the meaning behind. But he notices them nevertheless. And finally, finally, he turns to look into Jade’s eyes. And he notices the way her breath catches when she sees the look of pure love shining in his.

“You were right. I did love the idea of you. I loved the way you made me feel. And I should’ve known – I should’ve known not to do that. Because that’s all everyone has ever done with me.”

He lets his confession hang in the air, letting his words sink in for a moment before he speaks again.

“Almost all my life, people had their ideas about who I should be. And I got so used to it, that I started believing that’s who I was. I made these masks that I could wear and change in order to always be the exact person that people expected. Then you came along. You didn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. You saw through all those feeble facades that I wore and you loved me for exactly who I was. And,” he pauses, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, as if to gather himself one final time, “I don’t want to go back to pretending for whoever comes next. Because I don’t want there to be anyone else. I only want you. The beautiful part and the ugly parts. Because that’s who I love. You.”

Sidney finishes his speech and lets the silence fall, lets his words drift away into the late summer breeze. His eyes stay locked onto hers, looking into those beautiful green eyes, watching the changing emotions flicker behind them as she takes in his confession. She finally breaks the connection, turning to look back at the sunset.

“I can’t be the one to make sure you stay that way, Sidney,” she says, reiterating that fear that kept him at arms-length throughout those months that they shared.

“You were never the one that made me become myself. You gave me permission to make that choice in a moment when I thought I didn’t have that option anymore.”

It’s another moment of stillness, another moment of simply existing in the same space. Until Jade finally moves, her hand reaching over the hood of the car towards Sidney. There is a second of hesitancy where her hand rests in the empty in the space between them.

Until finally, Sidney extends his own hand. And when his hand meets hers, fingers intertwining, the sigh falling from her lips, he knows that she can feel the warmth of his love. And along with it, the certainty that she was safe to fall.

Because he would always be there to catch her.

Three Years Later

The click of the lock is a welcome sound, Sidney pushing the front door open to his new home. Or more accurately, their new home. The one he and Jade chose a year ago, shortly after their wedding. A place that would be uniquely theirs, a place where they could set down roots and build a home and a life after his retirement from hockey.

Sidney had announced his retirement at the beginning of this season, stating that it would be his last. There was a large amount of fanfare and an expectedly large amount of media attention throughout the regular season. When the Penguins hadn’t made it to the playoffs, he was upset. The narrative of his club winning one last Stanley Cup for him was a compelling one. But he didn’t let the loss sting him too much. He had three already, along with so many other awards and achievements and memories. Those were the things that he could hold onto.

He was confident that he would be able to let the game of hockey go. Because he had Jade.

Sidney walks deeper into the house, calling her name, his voice echoing off the walls. A silence greets him until he finally makes his way into the kitchen. And sees the open screen door leading to the backyard, the mellow sounds of R&B music floating into the house. After putting his things down on the kitchen island, he steps out onto the porch, his hazel eyes scanning over the yard.

The first thing Sidney notices is their dog Wilson laying in the middle of the yard, his chest rising and falling as he soaks in the April sunlight. Sidney’s eyes finally find Jade, sitting on her knees, crouched over one of the many flowerbeds he made for her. He watches as her hands pull out the creeping weeds, preparing for the coming spring. A few plastic pots of black irises sit next to her, their stalks gently swaying in the breeze as they patiently wait for her to nestle them in the dark soil.

Sidney makes his way across the yard, stopping to greet Wilson who is so content that he barely lifts his head in acknowledgement. He eventually reaches Jade, his body lowering to join her on the earth. The approach would’ve been silent, if it weren’t for the groan that rumbles from his chest as his knees protested.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he laughs, finally relaxing into kneeling position. Jade’s laugh dances on the breeze, her attention turning to him, the Pittsburgh Penguins baseball cap perched on her head, protecting her face from the sun.

“What’s the matter superstar? Retirement taking the wind from your sails?” she teases, sitting back on her heels as she wipes the dirt off her hands onto her worn out t-shirt. Sidney can’t help but smile when he notices the rings hanging from her necklace, the ones that he had chosen for her almost two years prior.

“I’ve only technically been retired for a week now,” he playfully shoots back, the false offense painting his words. Jade just laughs again, her attention still focused on him. “I suppose my body just needs to learn how to slow down.”

“Well, hopefully it’s not too broken down to pass me that bucket of fresh soil.”

Her teasing request is one that he gladly obliges, reaching for the green bucket sitting a few inches away from him. He pulls it close to his body, ready to pass it over to her when a flash of white catches his eyes. Sidney’s eyes refocus, staring into the bucket as his brain registers the item perched on top of the loose soil.

A pregnancy test.

He tentatively reaches it, grasping the test and lifting it out of the pail. He has to use his hand to block the sunlight to be able to fully read the screen. And his jaw drops when he finally makes out the word ‘pregnant’ staring back at him. Sidney’s eyes flash up to Jade whose gaze is still locked on his body, a soft smile on her face.

“Are you serious?” he asks, the disbelief clear in his tone.

Jade doesn’t give a verbal response, just a small nod as her smile grows wider. Sidney doesn’t hesitate to reach out to her, pulling her into a crushing hug. Her bright cheerful laugh rings out through the air as he holds her close, muttering words of joy and thanks to her and to the universe for bringing these blessings to his life. Sidney can’t stop pressing kisses into her sun-warmed skin as she continues to giggle before she grabs his face and draws him into a passionate kiss.

They finally break away from each other, smiles still splitting their faces and Sidney’s hands fall to rest on her still flat stomach.

“What should we name her?” he asks, his thumbs lifting Jade’s shirt to brush against her bare skin.

“Easy there, superstar. We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet.”

“Trust me, it’s a girl.”

“Oh, and why are you so certain about that? Did the sudden knowledge that you’re going to be a father give you some sort of parental superpower?”

“I just know it,” he replies, that crooked smile tugging at his lips. Jade just returns his smile, his quiet certainty making her softly chuckle.

“I’ve always liked the name Jacqueline. Jackie for short,” she says, the suggestion floating on the breeze.

“Then Jackie it is.”

The two of them stay there, staring at each other as the sunlight beats down on them. This was it for him. It was him and Jade and Wilson and their unborn child. A contented sigh falls from his lips; this was all he ever wanted in his life, all he had ever hoped for. And just like she always did, Jade seemed to know exactly what he was feeling, that beautiful soft smile painting her features.

It isn’t clear who moved first, but at the same time it didn’t matter. Because when Sidney’s lips met Jade’s, he felt the certainty of their love thrumming through him. They break apart, his forehead resting against Jade’s, their breaths mingling in the warm summer light.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

a/n: This fic was originally written as a reader insert for the Winter Fic Exchange two years ago. But I thought the story would work as an OC fic. The original is still on my blog so you can pick your own adventure so to speak. Not much has changed plot-wise but I think I might love this one more. Feel free to read this one and the original and see how you feel!

taglist: @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @ sorlos-world @svexhenthusiast and adding @wyattjohnston cause as mentioned, this is started as a Winter Fic Exchange fic.

#nicole writes #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosbby x oc #pittsburgh penguins fic #pittsburgh penguins imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

81 notes · View notes

jks1uv · 7 months ago

Text

𝑙𝑜𝑚𝑙 ; tommy riordan | one-shot |

summary: you’re visited by the love and loss of your life after he walked away a decade ago.

pairing: tommy riordan x vsangel!reader.

trope: estranged childhood best friends to lovers.

genre: fluff + mild angst + romance.

warnings‼️: a 3 year age gap (reader is 22 & tommy is 25) + crude language + a kiss scene + a suggestive line towards reader as a model (some guy says she’s fine) + a minor detail describing a small part of the daily routine of a marine which may be inaccurate.

word count: 3,645.

you and tommy were the best of friends. inseparable at the tender ages of 5 and 8.

you two were neighbors and your family consists of four; mom, dad, you, and your little sister.

tommy and brendan had a bigger age gap than you and your sister but whenever you girls would be out in the yard, tommy would feel the itch to go out and play in his little hands.

he knew y’all were younger than him but that didn’t discourage his curiosity.

“um, is… is it okay if i can play with you?” he asked hesitantly.

you and your little sister look towards the voice and find a boy older than the two of you standing by his front porch, looking bashful.

you nodded enthusiastically, so excited to make a new friend.

“yes!” you exclaimed as you grab his hand and drag him along your front yard.

ever since then, the two of you were joined at the hip.

tommy would come over to your house often due to the close nature of your friendship.

you may have been 12 at the time but you were wise, and that made it easier for him to confide in you.

“he’s drunk. again.” he shook his head and chuckled bitterly.

your eyes were soft and sorry. you wish he wouldn’t think pitying him was a bad thing.

you lace your hands with his and insist on watching a movie while snacking on his favorite things.

“you can spend the night if you want.”

it was second nature to go above and beyond for him, but it was second nature for him to deny your kindness. you never understood why.

“nah, i gotta get back to my mom.” and you smiled at that.

one thing about tommy? he’s a great son to his mother.

they say it gets worse before it gets better and that was certainly the case for tommy. he and his mother had been pushed to their limits. they both packed their bags and never looked back at pittsburgh ever again.

you were devastated, heartbroken. you couldn’t believe your best friend just up and left without even saying goodbye.

you figured it was because of his father, paddy, but you never knew he’d push your best friend away from you.

you harbored a secret animosity towards him whenever tommy would spill his guts out but in this moment? you resented him.

paddy was the sole reason your other half, your soulmate was gone.

you never even got to tell tommy how you really felt about him.

tommy told you his secrets and you shared yours. you were never this close to a person, ever.

your little sister is an exception but of course she’s gonna know you better than you know yourself. she’s your blood, but tommy isn’t. he’s someone who’s seen what the inside of your heart looks like and he hadn’t judged you one bit for it.

tommy is your first love, but he was also the loss of your life.

10 years later, present-day:

“standby y/n.”

you're nervous as fuck and rightfully so. in addition to this being the first time you open a victoria’s secret fashion show, you're wearing your first fantasy bra to do it.

that’s a lot more firsts a girl can hope for!

you’re just a couple of minutes away from so many things happening tonight. tripping and twisting your ankle, falling on your face and the internet never letting you live it down, or worse: never getting another chance to model for victoria's secret ever again.

well, there goes your career! over before it even started all because of some heels or the floor or the lights or some other, valid yet non-excusable reason.

you take a deep breath in and exhale through your lips forming an ‘o’ shape. you close your eyes and join your hands together to pray silently with the few seconds you have left.

please, please, please don’t let me fuck this up. please.

you hear ariana grande belt out the few lines before the chrous of “dangerous woman” out front. you make a mental note to ask for a photo and autograph when you see her later.

“go, y/n!”

showtime.

it’s muscle memory for your hands to place themselves on your hips as you make your way down the large, well-lit, glittery floor.

perfect timing to make your appearance as the chorus of the song plays on.

cheers and screams erupt from the seats as you stand tall and concentrate on moving your ankles in front of the other.

you’re at the middle of the runway when you tug on a strap and large, black, feathery wings make their appearance. more encore from the venue & you can’t help but feel like that bitch.

when you make it to the end of the runway, you turn your chin down a bit and let your eyes do the talking. they’re outlined with black eyeliner and highlighted with silver and black eyeshadow, blended so nicely together.

the theme for your fantasy bra is “black swan” and it’s perfect for you as that’s the energy you’re known to give off. dark feminine, mysterious and unpredictable.

you pause for a few seconds to pose and let your side profile hang in the camera angle for a bit before you turn to the side. you make a full 360. you eye the camera on the side, offering one last glimpse before you’re on your way backstage.

you let the crowd fuel you as you depart and hope you looked your very best.

you know only angels get to wear wings and you know it’s a privilege to get to do both; be an angel and wear wings.

you were signed as a victoria’s secret model at 18 and worked very hard for 3 years to earn your title as an ‘angel’. at 21, you were gifted an opportunity so many girls only dream of.

the rest of the girls backstage practically flood the room with excited shrieks, warm hugs and elated faces.

you were the youngest of the batch and had so much yet to learn but they all treated you as their baby.

“you killed it out there!”

“so beyond proud of you, babe.”

“there she is! the highlight of tonight.”

“our black swan did so beautiful!” and there were so many more words of encouragement that made you spill so many tears but you did it! the hard part was over.

now you can change into other lingerie and wings and just be content with the fact that you did it.

after the show was successfully complete (and ariana grande came asking for a photo), a celebration in the form of drinks were obviously in order.

you’re out with your sister and you deem it’s baddie baddie shot o’clock.

“girl, save some for your birthday.” your sister laughed.

you just sent her a toothy grin and shrugged. “we’ll just drink some more when it gets here.”

your 23rd birthday is still some time away but you weren’t thinking about that tonight.

“HOLY SHIT, IS THAT TOMMY?!”

yup. that’s what you were thinking about. the boy who left pittsburgh and took a piece of your heart with him.

your neck snaps up at the name and you see him for the first time in forever.

he’s here. in the flesh, and not on television breaking some guy's jaw. he's about 10 ppl away from you.

your heart stops. your breathing stops.

time stops and all of a sudden, you’re a little kid again forming a memorable friendship with the neighbors youngest son.

he’s wearing a white tank top under a baggy, black zip-up jacket with a pair of black sweatpants.

his baby blues are darting from one person to the next, an unnoticeable smile on his face as people come up to him and say nice things with proud smiles on their faces.

you think he looks good. a bit uncomfortable and edgy, but he looks like he’s been taking good care of himself.

you begrudgingly look away from him and blink rapidly to keep your tears from falling.

your sister puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, begging you to go up to him and rekindle what may be lost but you silently plead with her to just let you have this.

you don’t have it in you to go up to him and make small talk, act like the last 10 years didn’t happen.

at least not tonight.

she indulges you and the two of you quietly leave the bar. unaware of the stunned pair of eyes that want so desperately for you to turn around to see what’s slipping away.

you wake up with a headache but it's not from a hangover. it's from crying yourself to sleep.

you couldn't believe yourself. how did you miss the one chance you've been so desperately praying for? how did you walk out and away from him?

like he did you.

you sigh and drink some water from your nightstand before getting ready.

you shower and eat and think about going to just drive around town as you haven't been back in 3 years.

should you also go see him? maybe he's still here?

or maybe he left. again.

you shake your head away from those thoughts, no matter how possible they may be. you're gonna go out there and find him and... well, you'll figure out the rest of the plan when you see him.

the sound of the doorbell ringing catches your attention. your sister left for work and said she won't be back until 6.

you grab your keys and purse and make your way to the door, hoping it's a girl scout with cookies or something.

but of course, the universe says “nuh uh!” and behold! it's the very thing you ran away from. this time, just a couple of steps away from touching you.

“tommy?” you breathe out in disbelief.

he blinks slowly and your stomach feels funny. like all the adrenaline in you is swarming in your intestines, daring you to move your body. without thinking, you accept the challenge.

you jump out at him and crush him in the biggest hug you've ever given and the vigor of it knocks his balance off a bit. you hear him grunt in surprise and your arms are wrapped around his neck in a vice grip. like if you loosen them even a little, he'll disappear again.

hot tears brim along your eyes. you close them tightly and let them slide down your cheeks anyway, feeling them trail a path down your face.

his hands slowly rise towards your figure and he's unsure where to put them. he's never hugged or been hugged like this.

even when he made up with brendan, it was different. but why is this different? it it because it's you and not his no-longer-estranged older brother?

he hugs you back. one hand is across your hip and the other is your shoulder blade in his palm. he slides his face into the crevice of your neck and noses your collarbone in a silent apology.

you sniffle as you accept it.

“i'm sorry.” he croaks out.

you shake your head, to tell him he doesn't have to be but he insists.

“i shoulda came to see you but-” he sighs and moves his face back, prompting you to do the same.

you look at him with watery eyes and his eyes dart around your face. like he's memorizing it.

his eyebrows come together and form lines on his forehead. you know he does that when he's thinking really hard about something.

“the truth is,”

you let go of his neck and his cradles your face in his hands.

“i knew i wouldn't be able to leave if i saw you.” and when he drops that bomb on you, you can't help but stitch your wobbly lips together in a smile.

it doesn't reach your eyes though, and that's how he knows you missed him just as much as he missed you.

“but i woulda understood why.”

and he knows that, of course he knows.

he also knows that the second he would've seen those tears in your eyes, he would've broken his resolve. and how could he not? you break his heart when you cry.

he wipes your tears with his thumbs.

“i know.” he murmurs.

he pulls you into him once more with a hand on your neck and you cry softly, unbeknownst to you that he's forcing himself to brave through his teary eyes.

“oh my god, you're so old.” you giggle.

“and you're so young.” he bites with no heat.

you invited tommy in and changed, finding your mission successful. the current conversation is about how different life has been for the both of you.

“so i guess we're both kinda like celebrities, huh.” you tap your nails against the sofa arm.

“more you than me.” his lips split open in a toothy grin.

you smile back and think how great this all is. there's no sign of forced conversation, he's as relaxed as he can be and you are happy.

tommy stares at you and finds himself seeing all the things he's missed. he finds all the years he's missed in your face, all the places you've been in your eyes and all the joy you've experienced in your lips.

the truth is, he saw you on tv every time you were in a show. even back when you just modeled for any show before you were officially signed on as an angel.

his unit members would tease him but he didn't care. you were on national television and to him? you were amazing.

if anyone said anything about any woman in a suggestive tone, he'd say something anyway but he never played about you.

“damn, she's fine.”

if looks can kill, you wouldn't wanna be that guy. tommy could kill with his bare hands just as well.

alas, that was the only warning that poor chap got before it was lights out. all because he couldn't keep his thoughts in his head. he just had to air it out to everyone.

tommy slept good that night, too.

“whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” you pull him away from his memories.

he deeply exhales and looks away from you, fiddling with his chain around his neck.

“i watched all your shows.” he mumbles.

you still heard it though and you show it by the way your face is beaming.

“really?”

you’re elated because you were on his mind just as much as he was on yours.

he nods, still refusing eye contact but it’s okay.

you scoot a bit closer to him and your knees are folded under you, touching his thigh.

he stops fiddling with his chain and eyes your hands on your knees. slowly but surely, his eyes lock onto yours and he sees how happy you are.

“i didn’t know they allowed people to watch tv over there.” you can’t help your grin.

your head tilts to the side a little as he explains how everyone shares one tv and there’s a daily time limit to how much tv they can watch.

“wait, so, you even watched the shows i did before i was exclusive to victoria’s secret?”

“every single one.”

that made your heart swoon. your crush on him never left but this amplified it.

you had guys try to hit on you and say a line or two to get your number (or something else) but they weren’t tommy.

he haunted your life.

“why didn’t you ever call?”

you didn’t want to ruin the mood but this has been sitting on your mind the second you let him in. you don’t know if he feels it, too.

“why’d you leave the bar?”

you quirk up an eyebrow at his quick yet witty retort.

touché.

this has been weighing on him for quite some time, too.

“i didn’t know how to face you… i guess i was overwhelmed.” you answer, ashamed.

he nods like he was satisfied in your answer. “same.”

you look at him, unsatisfied with his lack of explanation.

“i never called because i thought you might’ve hated me.” he admits.

you’re offended and you don’t hide it.

did he really think his friendship meant that little to you? so little, that you wouldn’t understand?

he sees the look on your face and shakes head, as if he was answering your questions.

“no. wait, it’s not like that-”

“i could never hate you.”

there’s a softness in your voice as you say the words he’s been longing for. it soothes the wave of self-loathing washing over the shore of his heart.

all he’s wanted to hear, to know; is that you don’t hate him.

your knees slide out from under you and you cross your legs together, facing him.

“i honestly thought you forgot about me-”

“never.” he says so instantly, like that idea is so absurd and bizarre.

to him? it is.

“i could never, ever forget about you.”

now it was his turn to be offended.

how could you assume he’d ever forget about you? the same you that never let him down? the same you that always had a place for him in your mind and heart? that you?

you sigh softly and look down at your hands. you’re unsure where to go now.

“okay.” you nod.

“okay.” he asserted.

you huff out a laugh from your scrunched up nose and your smile threatens your unbothered demeanor.

tommy smiles back, a tight-lipped one but a smile nonetheless.

he gazes into your eyes and they drift to your lips on their own accord. like a magnet, they’re drawn to your mouth and your eyes are drawn to his.

he hesitantly leans in a bit, giving you time and space to back off if you’d like but you’re frozen.

you gulp and meet his eyes and he whispers, “i’ve liked you for the longest time.”.

that makes your heart leap out of your chest. all these years you’ve been crushing on this big, tough guy, not knowing he’s liked you back?

“since when?” you’re so starstruck.

he smiles bashfully, a faint red blush painting his cheeks. as uncharacteristic as this looks, you weren’t about to let this phenomenon go to waste by looking away.

“since that day i asked if i could play.”

your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. this endearing motherfucker.

“i… i’ve been crushin’ on you, too.” you admit.

you can’t look at him. you don’t know why you feel this way. maybe it’s because you’ve never been this vulnerable with a man before.

“don’t go all shy on me now.” he teases.

he moves his head to catch your gaze.

you smack your teeth and halfheartedly hit his shoulder with your knuckles.

he brings his head towards you once more and aligns his forehead with yours. you close your eyes at the contact and he asks, “can i kiss you?”.

you nod faintly, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.

his palms rest on the curve of your waist and he kisses you like he’s making up for all lost time.

he’s gentle, letting you set the pace, letting you take control.

but there’s something else you need to know.

your head tilts back a bit and he chases you, dazed and not a single thought behind his eyes other than kissing you forever if you’d let him.

“easy, tiger.” an airy chuckle leaves your lips and you set a hand on his chest.

he lazily smiles and places his hand over yours. he kisses your forehead.

it makes you smile, tommy being so affectionate. a stark contrast to his demeanor in the public but you think he’s one of those “tough guy with a soft heart” kind of guy.

“i want you to stay.”

he pauses his actions and slowly backs up to meet your eyes.

“you stayin’ here?” he asks curiously.

“for the time being.” you interlock your fingers with his.

he nods and says, “what you really mean is; you want me to come with you.”.

you purse your lips sheepishly. tommy thinks about it for a moment.

“new york city?”

“mhm.”

you’re nervous. was that an impulsive move? or is that question a result of your fear; him leaving just as fast as he showed up?

he deeply inhales and blows a raspberry, simulating a worried persona.

“okay.” he decides a beat later.

you blink and shake your head, getting whiplash from his behavior. “wait, what?!”

“i was gonna come visit you anyway but this sounds better.” he nods like he’s made up his mind.

tommy says things like this like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and to him, they are.

but for you, this is a commitment. a promise. something you can’t turn back from and you convey that to him.

“tommy,” you begin. “this is a very big and important adjustment. we’re moving in together.”

“what else would i be doin’? where else would i be?”

“for starters, your family is here. i know you’ve made up with brendan so i figured…”

you trail off and hope tommy can fill in the rest.

a lopsided smirk is drawn to his handsome, smug face and he holds your hands.

“that’s sweet and you’re right. but he chose when and where to make his family and i’m tellin’ you; there’s no place i’d rather be.”

he says is so intrinsically that your heart wills no choice but to believe him. there’s a silent promise in his words, one that he hopes you hear him make.

i’m not leaving you again.

“…okay.” you muse.

“okay.” he settles with a quick kiss to your lips.

#tom hardy #tommy riordan #tommy conlon #warrior #warrior 2011 #tom hardy fanfiction #tommy riordan fanfiction #tommy conlon fanfiction #tommy riordan x reader #tommy conlon x reader #tommy riordan fluff #tommy conlon fluff #tommy riordan oneshot #tommy conlon oneshot #♡ hearts 4 everyone! ♡#s writes!#loml

81 notes · View notes

filmsmakkari · 9 months ago

Text

LA Girl Magic

warren rojas x fem!reader

Summary: Warren Rojas always dreamed of Los Angeles. The clubs, the music, and the ridiculously beautiful women.

CW: Sexual-ish content but no actual smut, a little angsty at the end. As always my (Y/N) is assumed to be black and sometimes such is implied but definitely not enough that others can't read.

June 1979

Everyone always dreamed of Los Angeles. The warmth of the Californian sun, the waves crashing against the Venice shore, the palm trees lining the streets. LA was the land of opportunity. And when you wished on Los Angeles stars, it felt like they would always come true. LA was the dream. Endless sunny days, ridiculously beautiful girls, and freedom to do and be whatever you wanted.

Los Angeles was everything for a band from Pittsburgh, where the only options were the mill or the army. So when Billy Dunne asked Warren Rojas about the possibility, Warren immediately went out and bought a van so the band would be ready to make the drive. It more or less cost him everything he had. It was crazy, but he somehow trusted it.

And boy, he couldn't have been more right.

It didn't come immediately. Weeks of phone calls that lead to nowhere. Finally meeting Teddy Price, and then being put through the wringer by him for months, a canceled tour, and being so dirt poor that he had to steal toast from restaurants. Enter Daisy Jones. Look At Us Now comes out. Sold out shows, gold records, and more drugs and women tearing at his pants than he could have ever dreamed of when he was just some skinny, curly-haired kid in Pennsylvania. The Six were living the California dream. He always said Daisy had "LA girl magic." He even tried to get Billy to write a song about it.

It was July 1st, 1979, the LA date of the Aurora tour. For Daisy, it was the hometown show, but she had always said she didn't have anyone in LA, no parents or extended family in the whole city. So everyone in the band was surprised when she said she'd have a childhood friend coming for the show. The shock became even greater when Daisy walked into the green room laughing and smiling with (Y/N) (L/N).

(Y/N L/N) was the "it girl" before that term was coined. A gorgeous Hollywood starlet. An Oscar winner at ten, a Vogue cover at 15, a sold out world tour at 20, and a star on the Walk of Fame by 21. She was currently working on her sophomore album, and the world was waiting to see how she'd elevate herself further. But in the meantime, she was staying on the public's minds with her new Chanel film being aired on every TV in America, in which she played a songbird stuck in a cage next to a bottle of Coco Mademoiselle. (Y/N) had the talent that made her the critic's darling and the incredible beauty that made her desired and hated.

Warren's breath caught when he looked at her. (Y/N)'s hair, dark like a raven's wing, tumbled down her back in long curls. She wore a pale blue Halston jumpsuit that made her skin shimmer, and diamond jewelry added to the effect. And her eyes… oh God, those brown eyes. Warren would bet that she'd be able to finish him with just her eyes.

His cheeks slightly heated up at his thoughts as he watched her introduce herself to the band members. She approached him last, wrapping her arms around his neck, saying, "Hey, it's so nice to meet you! I'm (Y/N)."

Warren stuttered slightly, removing his hands from her waist and looking into her eyes. "I-I know."

(Y/N) chuckled. "And are you gonna tell me your name, drummer?"

"Warren!" he rushed out embarrassingly quickly. "I'm Warren Rojas."

(Y/N) smiled. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Warren."

Warren loved the way his name sounded on her tongue. He wanted her to say it over and over again. He wondered what it'd be like to hear her scream it.

These thoughts remained on his mind as he played as hard as he could that night, knowing she was watching and wanting her to feel every beat. Warren knew that people usually didn't pay attention to the rhythm section during concerts, too interested in the lead guitar or frontman to notice the lonesome drummer in the back, but just knowing there was a chance that (Y/N) was watching him, Warren played that drumline like it was his last night on earth.

Teddy was waiting as they all walked backstage, giving the usual pats on the shoulder and congratulations.

"Hey, Rojas," Teddy called as Warren cracked open a beer. That is the kind of performance I expect from the best drummer in rock' n roll!" Warren had never received such high praise from Teddy, and the compliment made him swell with pride.

"Hey, call it the LA girl magic," Warren said with a shrug and a smile.

Teddy furrowed his brow, "I have no idea what you're talking about, son, but if that's what made you play like that, I need you to use it every night."

˖°🌊🎐𓇼⋆🦪₊

The afterparties in the bus were always wild, but tonight was different. The Six had just played one of their best shows of the tour, so they decided to rent out some random bar on Sunset to celebrate specially. Beautiful bodies of men and women were swaying to the sensual rhythms and blues blaring from the boombox, and there were pills and powders sprawled across the tables that could only be found on the dirtiest streets of the City of Angels. This night was on fire.

Now, on a normal night, Warren probably would have grabbed a blonde with nice tits and a brunette with nice legs and taken them anywhere with a working lock on the door, but on this particular night, even the tightest skirts wrapped around girls just begging him to lift them around their waists and bury his face in between their thighs weren't the slightest bit tempting to him. Instead, all his attention was on a certain LA girl with dark features and the voice of an angel.

(Y/N) and Daisy were currently standing on a table, swaying their hips in a way that could only come naturally to girls who were stumbling out of clubs like these in tight dresses and runny makeup when they were 14. All of the men stared at them hungrily. All the girls tried to emulate their movements. But none could mimic the harmonies they sang over the random guitar melody playing. Their voices were enough to bring the roof down.

Warren was in fucking awe.

He'd gotten used to Daisy's voice. The power in it, the way she sang from deep in her belly and sounded like her voice was traveling over rocks to produce the sound. Daisy's voice was the pure essence of rock n roll.

But (Y/N)? Her voice was hauntingly beautiful. And in the teal shimmery dress she's changed into for the after party, with slits on either side, she looked like she'd come from the depths of the sea to lure men in with her siren call. Her voice was alluring but dangerous. It pierced its way through Warren's heart, and in that moment, he would've done anything she asked him to.

"Huh," he breathed out. "LA magic."

"What was that, love?" asked the red-haired girl who'd taken it upon herself to wrap her arms around his neck and move her body against his.

"Excuse me," said Warren, shoving her off and walking towards (Y/N). A sailor drawn to a siren, he approached the table and called her name.

(Y/N)' s eyes widened happily when she saw him. "Warren!!" She climbed down from the table and wrapped him in a tight hug. "You did so well tonight, congratulations! The drumline in "Let Me Down Easy" made the entire number- no one could have played it better!" she yelled over the loud music.

Warren exhaled and smiled. "It's just nice to know someone's listening."

(Y/N) let out a giggle, folding her lips before turning back to the table. "Daisy-jay!" she yelled at her friend. Daisy had already found another way to occupy herself, playing some sort of game involving vodka and a chocolate bunny. "Yeah, (Y/N/N)?"

"I'll be right back! Save me a shot!" (Y/N) yelled before grabbing Warren by the wrist and dragging him outside the club.

The pair heard Daisy yell out ",Hey! Don't have too much fun you two!"

(Y/N) exhaled a deep breath, taking a few steps forward and staring up at the sky. "It's a full moon tonight, Warren."

Warren stood beside her. "Yeah, no stars though."

They looked back at each other, brown eyes meeting brown eyes in a warm dance.

"There are never stars here," (Y/N) said with a smile. "Something called light pollution, I think. From all the city lights everywhere."

"I love the city lights. Seeing them reminds me that we made it. That we're really here." Warren closed his eyes for a moment. "But some nights I miss the stars. Back in Pitt, I could always see hundreds of stars from my window. Started chartin' em like I was part of Apollo 11 or something," he said shyly, letting out a dry chuckle.

"That's amazing, Warren." (Y/N) smiled at him so beautifully and kindly. He knew she meant it.

"I didn't know you were from Pittsburgh," she said.

"Mmhm. Been friends with all the guys since I was a kid. But I was actually born in Botogá. Shot over to the U.S. when I was three."

"Colombia?"

Warren nodded with a smile.

(Y/N) hummed. "I guess now's a good time to mention that I've always had a thing for foreign men. Only guys I usually like more are drummers in rock bands," she said nonchalantly, looking back at the moon.

Meanwhile, Warren felt like his heart was in his fucking ass.

He swallowed nervously. "W-well I have a thing for Hollywood girls."

"Oh, really?" she said casually.

"Yeah," Warren said, building up his confidence. "'S part of why I chose to move here. I knew that even if the music thing worked out, I'd still be able to find a girl from the city of angels to take me to heaven." Warren pushed a stray curl behind her ear, and for the first time in the whole night, (Y/N) was the nervous one.

Warren felt the change in dynamic immediately and decided to take a risk. He leaned in, searching (Y/N) 's eyes for any sign of rejection. When he saw none, he closed the gap between them, seizing her lips with his in a passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling the tall man downwards. He grabbed her by her waist, exposed by the slit in her dress, pulling her closer. (Y/N) let out a small moan at the feeling of his touch on her skin, and Warren took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, increasing the wetness accumulating between her legs.

The pair finally pulled away for air, staring deep into each other's eyes silently.

"Do you want to see heaven, Rojas?" (Y/N) asked breathily.

Warren's lips were swollen, and his pupils were dilated as he spoke, "I'll follow wherever you go, angel."

(Y/N) caught his lips in a quick kiss before walking over to the phone booth and calling the taxi company. She'd never felt so much embarrassment as when she had to stifle her moans on the phone with the operator as Warren had followed her into the booth and began kissing and sucking up her arm to her shoulder and neck. Once he quickly figured out her weak spot was in between her jawline and her neck, he just continued on with the spot as if he was a starving man and her skin was his last meal. That, along with his large hands traveling up and down her body, almost caused (Y/N) to drop the phone, tear off her clothes, and sit on his lap on the dirty street corner.

When the taxi finally arrived, (Y/N) 's embarrassment only grew as Warren pulled her to practically straddle him and stuck his tongue down her throat. She could feel the discomfort radiating from the driver. But when he started playing with her panties… well, then she said to hell with embarrassment.

It felt like they'd been in the taxi for an eternity when they finally arrived at the large house in Baldwin Hills. The lovers stumbled through the large door, fumbling with each other's clothes and sharing messy, maddening kisses as they fell on the couch. (Y/N) sat atop Warren, staring deep into his eyes. The feeling of his hands on her waist was making her feel crazy.

"I want you inside me, Warren."

She didn't need to tell him twice.

˖°🌊🎐𓇼⋆🦪₊

January 2000

"At some point that night, I had every part of me in that woman," Warren reminisced with a chuckle. "Shit felt like joining the swim team. Shit, sorry Jules." Warren Rojas had aged handsomely. His once sleek black curly hair had grayed, and he'd developed wrinkles around his eyes. His hands were now rough and calloused from years of being a successful rock drummer who achieved many accolades before being inducted into the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame and retiring. He was the perfect picture of a had-been rockstar, a man now in his forties, tanned from days spent sitting out on his rusty old boat in the Marina. Some people might have pitied him, but he was content.

"I forgot who I'm talking to. I'd appreciate it if you didn't keep that part in. I think Nina would die if she had to hear about her old man like that."

Julia, now a woman grown and the spitting image of her mother with long, straight black hair and a camera at hand, was a far cry from the child Warren had known all those years ago.

"Hard for me too, to tell you the truth," she said with a slightly awkward laugh. "So then what happened?"

"Well I think you know, kiddo. Love. War. Band called it quits."

"With her, I mean."

Warren tensed up a bit. "Well, I loved her. Spent eight years with her, so I think he might've loved me too," he said with a smirk. "But we wanted different things, in the end. I wanted to slow down for a bit. Buy this boat, maybe have a few kids. I wanted success in the music world, but I wanted a wife and kids to share it with. She wanted to keep going. Being an "EGOT" at 24 wasn't enough, she wanted more. I've always loved her for that. She has so much hunger for life. She wants to live. She nearly gave it all up to settle with me, but I loved her too much to block her dreams. And I loved her enough to let her go. Met Lisa back in '89, had Nina in '94. I'm happy with my life now. I feel like everyone thinks I'm this miserable, washed up drummer, but I'm happy with the life I built for myself."

"Do you still love (Y/N)?" asked Julia.

Warren smiled a sad smile and looked at his lap. "... I'll always love that girl. I see her in everything. I watch her life in pictures now. Hear her voice on the radio. You'll probably have to cut this out too… cause of Lisa, of course… but uh…"the man trailed off, and a haze fell over his eyes as if he was seeing flashes of the past.

"You know something? That night when I first met her, after… after we finished," he shot Julia a look, "I got up to get her a cup of water, and when I looked out of her kitchen window, I saw a shooting star. I'd barely seen two stars in my time spent in the city at that point. We'd just fuckin talked about it! But after that night with her? There one was, shooting across the sky."

Warren chuckled and shook his head. "Goddamn LA Girl Magic."

#warren rojas x reader #warren rojas #warren rhodes x reader #warren rhodes #daisy jones and the six #djats #djats x reader #daisy jones x reader #daisy jones and the six x reader #billy dunne x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #x reader #daisy jones and the six fanfic #simone jackson #karen sirko #zarina's stories 🫧𓇼

92 notes · View notes