#that was a lot of skating today lol

[sunskate]

2024 Skate America RD result

this was nervewracking to watch lol the Mrazeks's tech box showing two ❌ invalidated elements alone was 👀 glad that was the tech panel - they didn't watch them at Denis Ten i guess 😅 they mistook something else for their ChRS

then Madi falling, Lilah and Lewis with a 5 point lead - most teams would have no chance of making up that big a gap, but i guess we'll see tomorrow how big a score C/B can rack up

i'm sure C/B have someone good like Hugo Chouinard making their music cut for them, but oof it's too many songs. the opening works pretty well, but once they leave the 50s, to me it starts to feel messy and irritating haha - like Hugo probably bent over backwards to minimize the clashing of keys, but there are still a couple clunker transitions, and others just don't fit together. jarring. it looked like Madi set her foot down on Evan's boot and tripped. they recovered like pros and somehow still had the highest PCS and BV in the event - level 4's all around including in the midline (!) and PSt3

F/G i can see how the crowd responds to them, but their dancing somehow feels calculated rather than organic and musical, when they skate, does it make you feel anything? idk. they're just not for me. i loved them the Disco Brit and Vogue seasons, not sure what happened

i was surprised by Jean-Luc praising D/S very highly yesterday for their FD, though he likes the RD less. as a program, it doesn't really stand out in any way? judges also varied widely - they ranked them 2nd through 9th

i love Olivia Smart, and i'll be so happy when they have a clean competition where they look really dialed in as a team. when it's good it looks really good. the Spanish judge gave them +4 on their ChRS despite the ! lol i guess without it it would have been +7 or something

L/LeG were 3rd in PCS in the whole event, 8th in tech score. usually they hit their levels, but they had PStB today. while F/A were the reverse - 4th in tech, 7th in PCS

US judge had N/M 9th and M/C 7th, reversed from the rest of the panel. Ted blithely announcing that Leah and Artem got married in June as if there isn't a huge mess blowing up right now about their training mates, and their coach isn't disgraced judges scoring their own teams a lot higher - CZE for the Mrazeks (3rd in GOE while the rest of the panel had them 4th-10th) ESP for Olivia/Tim (2nd in GOE, 3rd overall. panel had them 5th-10th in GOE) the British judge, Nicholas Russell, had every mark for F/G save one thrown out as the highest on the panel. except for his marks for their step sequences, which were thrown out for being the lowest lol

the British judge also ranked Fabbri/Ayer last in PCS, which, what? he gave them and the Mrazeks scores 10+ pts lower than the panel the Korean judge had a very wacky ranking - N/M 3rd, F/A 4th, T/K 5th. D/S 7th, Mrazeks dead last

[keeps-ache]

was up til 4 writing last night woohooooo :3

[dreamyeyes26]

I want to hug Kaori Sakamoto, I am pretty sure it would all be okay if i did that 🥺

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Bonus Sessions

In which you interview 2 multi-world champions in one sitting.

Warnings: discussions of the traumatic 2021 Abu Dhabi race (lol) Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2k words

- The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 3 - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 4 - Master List

(quick note. shoutout to @shelbyteller for the inspiration for this one. Hope it lives up to your expectations bb!)

"I can't believe you got him to agree to this." You say, shuffling a few papers on your desk in the Monaco apartment you share with Max.

Max looks at you, brow raised. "Are you kidding me? I didn't have to do any convincing. That man loves you. Honestly, I should probably be a little jealous of how eagerly he agreed to come on the show."

You roll your eyes, knowing that Max is being ridiculous. "As if I'd ever look at anyone but you." You tease, rising from your desk chair before crossing the room to sit on Max's lap.

When you had moved in with Max earlier in the year, one of the things he had insisted on was turning one of the spare rooms in his (well, now it was yours too, he had insisted on putting you on the deed to the property after your engagement, much to the dismay of his lawyer) apartment into a dual recording studio and office for you.

Tucked away in one of the corners was a large mahogany desk that you spent most of your time at. On the other side of the room that's decorated in tones of gold and champagne pink sits your podcasting setup with 2 comfy sitting chairs, microphones, and side tables. It's the perfect cozy setup. You didn't use this room all the time for your guests, a lot of the time you were traveling to meet them. This room was used for when you did your 'bonus session' episodes and when you had more personal friends on the show, like today's guest.

Max wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you closer into his chest. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He murmurs, breath tickling the shell of your ear.

You hum, small grin spreading across your face as you lean your head further into the crook of his neck. "Not in the last ten minutes."

"Well, let me remedy that terrible fact." Max's lips skate over your jaw before they find their home. "I love you beyond words, schatje." His words are mumbled against your lips but you understand them all the same.

When he slips his tongue into your mouth you can't help the sigh that leaves your body. It doesn't matter how many times Max kisses you because every time his lips land on yours, it feels like the first time.

The make out session continues for several moments before you're interrupted by a buzzing on Max's phone. "Looks like he's here. You ready?"

You glance down at your outfit, casual but put together for the interview that you're sure will make some waves in the F1 world. Not only because of who it is but also because of what you got him to agree to discuss today. "I hope so!"

Max leaves the office to retrieve your guest as you begin prep on the room. You had decided to just run the entire episode by yourself today, giving Steve and Shannon the day off from filming since it was in your home and you liked to keep this environment as relaxed and low key as possible.

Voices float towards you as you finish up the last bits of preparation. And then, they're standing in the doorway.

"I hear congratulations are in order!"

"Lewis!" You croon, setting down the papers in your hands before crossing the room to your friend's opened arms. "Thank you so much."

Lewis chuckles before holding you out at arms length, "Let me see that rock. I'm sure Instagram did it no justice."

You happily hold out your left hand for Lewis to take, grinning like an idiot over his shoulder at Max, who is leaning against the door frame with the same goofy grin on his face. The word 'proud' didn't seem to do what he felt for you in this moment justice.

"He did good, didn't he?"

"Ma'am, that man is so wildly in love with you." Lewis chuckles before looking over his shoulder at Max. "Good taste there, mate."

Max nods. "Thanks. Can I get you anything before you guys get started?"

Lewis shakes his head and just like that, you go into work mode. You give Lewis a brief explanation on how it's going to work, just like you did for Max over a year ago. Meanwhile, Max sits at your desk and watches you work. In the last year, he hasn't really had the opportunity to watch you film and record a show because he's always felt in the way but this time is different. He had been the one to ask Lewis onto the show and it had been Lewis that insisted he stay to watch the entire interview when he had tried to excuse himself moments before.

You were so in your element is left Max in awe. The way you moved around the room with such confidence, setting up the cameras and microphones, talking to Lewis like he was a brother or an old friend, you really commanded the room and made both of these drivers, who were used to wrestling flying torpedos around hairpin curves going fast enough to kill someone was just awe inspiring.

"Okay, but seriously, before we wrap this up we need to talk about one more thing." You giggle a bit, watching as Lewis reaches down to scratch Rosco on the head.

"Shit." Lewis hisses while Max laughs from his spot at your desk where he's been watching the entire interview quietly. "I thought you were going to forget about that."

You toss your head back, laughing maniacally. "And blow the chance at having two fan bases hate me? As if, Hamilton. Max, do you want to join us?"

Although you have the air of someone who couldn't care less about the upcoming topic, secretly, your stomach twists with anxiety. When Max had suggested the finale to your landmark interview with Lewis and when Lewis had agreed to is, you had been confident that you could handle such a touchy subject but now? Now that you were face with actually having to talk to your friend about it on camera to be released for the entire world to see? You were having second thoughts.

Max stands and sits next to you in the chair that you had pulled out moments before.

"And before we even get started, I want to preface this final segment by saying that you both agreed to this before hand and I am not blindsiding anyone, right?"

Both men grin at you where you sit between them and nod. "We both agreed to this." Lewis says.

"Well I, for one, feel a bit like a hostage here having to agree to this on camera." You reach across and smack Max on the shoulder, causing him to smile even wider. "Yes, of course. We both agreed to this."

"We're a few years removed from the 2021 season. Lewis, looking back do you think there's anything you could have done differently to change the outcome?"

Lewis shrugs, "If you would have asked me that a year ago, I would have probably said yes but as we get further away from it I think we did everything we could have. Sometimes, there are decisions made and things happen that are outside of your control. As a racing driver, you want everything to be under your control and even when it's not, it's in our nature to take on everything as if it is under our control."

"Are you calling me a control freak?" Max quips from your other side.

"We're all control freaks, man." Lewis says with a chuckle.

"What's that saying? Hindsight is 20/20? Looking back, there are always things you see and go 'well that was a terrible decision." Max says, smiling over at his rival. "But at the time, we all made what we thought were the best decisions we could with the information we had in front of us. I don't think there was anything either of us could have done to have change the outcome based on what we knew then and there."

You nod, grinning at both of the men. "Can we talk about Abu Dhabi for a second? I don't want to talk about the race, that's been done to death. But, can you walk me through what was going through your head in the days after?"

"I isolated big time." Lewis says, looking down at his hands before reaching to scratch Rosco's head. "I took off and spent time alone and just did a lot of thinking. I hated that my championship came down to the decisions of one man. Had we been better and more consistent the entire year, it wouldn't have come down to the last lap. That was on me and no one else. I had to take that on and figure out how I was going to face the team after letting them down."

"But you didn't let them down." Max insists. "That entire season was a masterclass in never giving up and making something out of nothing. I mean, sure I was the beneficiary of that final call from Race Control but it could have easily went the other way. I don't know what I would have done had I been in your shoes after that race."

"You would have been fine." Lewis says. "You've always been better at compartmentalizing things on the track. I take a lot of my work home with me. It's why I struggle to let people in. I'm often caught up in my own world focusing on what I need to do to perform better and improve, racing takes up my whole life and I'm content with that. You're a different breed. You don't take work home with you and that's how you were able to land this gorgeous girl."

"Hey, lay off the flirting with my fiance." Max snaps good naturdly, reaching for your hand and giving Lewis a wink. "Your singular focus is how you've won so many championships though and no one can fault you for that."

The rest of the interview continues for a few more minutes before you begin to wrap things up. It's been almost two hours at that point and the last 30 minutes of the interview is just Max and Lewis talking racing, Max threatening to retire, and Lewis threatening to pull an Alonso and never retire.

When the episode it released, it is a complete surprise and incredibly well received by everyone inside and outside the F1 community, which was somewhat surprising to you as you know what a hot button issue the 2021 season was and how polarizing discussing that very last race could be. In the end, it's one of your more favorite episodes and it opens up the doors to many more sports interviews, including a partnership with F1 TV for some mid-season post-race work that has you doing even more of what you love: getting to know the people beneath the sheen and shine of their own celebrity.

TheYappingHour Posted:

928,991 likes liked by charlesleclerc, ferrari, roscolovescoco, and others theyappinghour newest episode drops today featuring this handsome boy and his dad! ;) make sure you listen to the entire hour...there may be a surprise guest at the end! lewishamilton pleasure being on with you. and once again, congrats on the engagement! max is a lucky man! >>>theyappinghour oh lewis! you're the best. thank you <3 user028 i cannot get over how good she is at making people feel comfortable talking to her about hard things. i've NEVER heard lewis open up about 2021 like that before. >>>user9281 seriously. she is a magician. user0911 the cameo at the end! the yapping about the engagement! lewis sounding so genuinely happy for them! this may just be one of my favorite episodes ever.

tags: @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

[lnfours]

ik i should probably send this thru the lando brain rot but i am not exposing my filthy side lol so please excuse that. BUT lando with a figure skater who competes in singles but has to pairs for a gala show. he casually picks her from the practice and sees the pairs program which is stemy AF. i am thinking of smth like very hands on each other and her partner throwing her in air and catching her; his hands all over her waist while the song could be smth like into you by ariana grande.

a jealous lando fucking her going like "bet he can't do this" or smth like "oh he will never be able to see you like this" or "come on baby i've seen you split your body basically half on ice you can stretch more than that"

lol i am sorry i yapped alot feel free to ignore if you're not into it sm.

THIS IS LOWKEY GIVING ICEBREAKER AND IM SO HERE FOR IT FUCK!!!!!! smut (18+ pls!)

cleaning out my inbox

he was waiting for you when your routine ended, his arms crossed as he watched you and your partner. he knew you had done a more sensual routine this time around, but the sight of some dude having his hands all over you made him clench his jaw.

he knew it was part of your sport, that it was something silly to be mad at, but he couldn't help it. he didn't like sharing, especially when it came to you.

not wanting to make him wait any longer, you quickly grabbed your things and made your way over to him, stepping off the ice and smiling at him.

"hey, sorry, i forgot what time it was," you sighed, sitting down on the benches, "have you been waiting long?"

he shook his head, "'s alright."

you raised an eyebrow at him as you unlaced your skates, "you okay?"

he was looking in the direction towards your partner, "hmm? yeah, baby, 'm good."

"you sure?" you asked, stuffing the skates into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, "you look pissed off."

the conversation was interrupted when your partner called your name, stepping off the ice and smiling at the both of you, "good job today, you did great!"

"thanks," you smiled, "so did you! i'll see you friday, right?"

"yeah, i'll see you friday," he smiled, "have a good night guys."

you laced your arm with your boyfriends, pulling him away from sending the poor boy daggers, "good night!"

lando followed your lead, walking with you back to the parking lot and to the car. you threw your stuff in the backseat before climbing into the passenger seat, noticing the way his jaw was still tight.

he started the car as you spoke softly, your hand resting on his arm, "are you sure you're okay?"

he nodded before looking over at you, "yeah, why wouldn't i be?"

"like i said, you look pissed," you said, "did you wanna talk about it?"

"'m fine, babe, really."

his tone made you think otherwise, and then it clicked. he was jealous.

you smirked over at him, laughing softly, "oh my god, you're jealous!"

"no, 'm not."

"you are, look at you!" you chuckled, "c'mon, babe, there's nothing to be jealous about."

"i just don't like the fact that he had his hands all over you," he said, "that's all."

you grabbed his hand from the center console, placing it on your cheek, "doesn't matter, the only man who's hands i want all over me is sitting right here."

you pressed a kiss to his palm, smiling softly. he moved his thumb, the pad of his finger tracing over your bottom lip. he leaned the side of his head against the headrest when you pressed a soft kiss to his finger, mumbling a soft, "fuck, if you keep this up, i'm going to have to fuck you in this parking lot."

you smirked over at him, "is that a challenge?"

he looked out to the parking lot, the only ones left were you and one other car he had assumed was the owner's.

fuck it.

he reached across the console, unbuckling the seatbelt you had done up before helping you climb over to the drivers side. you smiled down at him as he reclined the seat back, giving the both of you more room as you lowered yourself to his level, hand resting on the seat as you hovered over him.

"quit it," he said, helping you pull down your leggings and underwear, tugging down his own sweatpants but leaving the barrier of his boxers between the two of you.

"i just can't believe you're jealous of matt," you snickered, "of all people, matt? really?"

"shut up," he rolled his eyes, helping you out of your hoodie, "unless you want me to make you shut up."

"i don't know, this is fun, don't you think?"

he sighed, pulling you down for a kiss with one hand on the back of your neck as the other slipped between the two of you to find your clit. he smirked against your lips at the sound of your muffled whimper, his index finger slowly teasing you.

he pulled away, his lips on your neck. he spoke between kisses to your skin, "yeah, not so talkative now, hmm?"

"gotta do better than that."

without warning, he accepted your challenge and slid his finger into you with ease. you moaned softly, his queue to add another as you closed your eyes in pure bliss.

"what's the matter, baby?" he teased, "cat got your tongue?"

you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, "just fuck me already."

"i'll think about it."

"lando!"

"this is fun, don't you think?" he threw your teasing words back at you, making you groan. your mouth fell open at the feeling of his thumb toying with your clit as his fingers worked inside of you, moving at a delicious pace because he knew your body and what you liked like the back of his hand. and he knew what buttons to push to make you beg for it, and boy was he going to push his limits today.

"tell me what you want, baby," he said, his teeth tugging on your earlobe, "c'mon, pretty girl."

"want you," you moaned, "please."

"see, that's all you had to say."

he slowly pulled his fingers out from inside you as you sat up, letting him pull down his boxers. his dick sprung free, slapping him in the stomach before he helped you lower yourself down onto it. you both moaned in unison at the feeling of him stretching you out, his hands gripping your hips as you slowly started rocking back and forth.

"fuck," he moaned, grabbing at your ass, your sign that he wanted to take control. he started thrusting up into you, making you moan loudly as he somehow went even deeper than before, "yeah, baby, who's pussy is this?"

"yours," you moaned softly, one of his hands coming up to pull down your sports bra, your tits bouncing freely as his fingers tweaked with your nipple.

"sorry baby, i didn't hear you. who's did you say?"

"yours, lando," you said louder, "fuck."

he moved his hand, fingers coming back to rub tight circles against your clit, "yeah, bet he wouldn't fuck you like this, would he?"

you shook your head, but that wasn't good enough for him.

"words."

"no," you said, "he wouldn't."

"yeah cause you're mine," he said, his thrusts somehow going deeper and faster in the confined space the two of you were in, "all mine. got it?"

you nodded, "always."

he smiled, bringing you back down for another kiss, a kiss full of love and passion despite how hard he currently was slamming into you. you moaned into his mouth, pulling away to speak, "just like this, fuck, i'm so close,"

he nodded, "me too," he spoke softly, "come for me, baby."

it didn't take much longer until you were squeezing around him, thighs shaking overtop of him as you moaned. he followed pursuit, his hips stilling as he came undone, the both of you sitting there for a minute to catch your breath.

you laid on his chest, his hands playing with your hair softly. you smiled at him and he smiled back down at you, "i love you, you know."

"i know," you smiled, "i love you too."

he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "you hungry?"

"i could eat,"

"perfect," he said, tapping your hip, "let's get dressed."

after getting yourselves situated, you smiled as he placed his hand on your thigh, pulling out of the parking lot.

"you know," you bit back a laugh, "you should get jealous more often."

"i literally hate you." he sighed before laughing softly.

"you love me."

"i do."

[scorpioriesling]

A Chance Meeting

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Tamlin x reader

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You were pining over him, plain and simple. After a chance meeting, it turns out you might have a lot more in common with the rather lonely High Lord; in fact, you might be just what he needed.

SR’s Note: I was not prepared to write fluffy Tamlin... lol. However I don't see enough of him on Tumblr, and I tried my very very best. <3 ily all

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Charming, handsome, powerful.

That's what they all said about him, and you couldn't help but agree.

After all, they were right.

Thoughts of the handsome High Lord swirled prettily through your mind as you continued on your way, stooping every time you'd come across a bright orchid or an orange lily to pluck it. Your basket was filling up -- but, the more the merrier for the bouquet you were crafting to sit atop your kitchen table.

The warm evening sun provided comfort as you strode along the familiar woods, not too far from your home within them. You had quite some time before you needed to head back, and you thanked yourself for slipping on your swimming garments before heading out today. The long skirt you'd chosen was providing more warmth in the spring afternoon than you'd intended.

You knew of a small stream ahead, a clearing through the wood that was your favorite sitting spot on the warmer days when you resorted to the chill of the water for the cooling you so desperately craved. As you made your way to the spot, a smile smile spread across your face at the sight. It was no wonder you'd always resorted back here -- you could see the Spring Manor perfectly through the clearing in the trees.

You gently set down your flower basket, and began removing your clothes one by one, slipping off your walking boots and laying them neatly next to the folded pile. With a small sigh and a longing glance toward the Manor, you waded in.

It only took a few minutes to get used to, the temperature of the water soothing the heat inside you. You waded around, your hair flowing freely around you in waves. As a cloud passed over the sun, you shivered at the lack of heat warming the water around you. Opting to submerge fully, you went under -- only for a moment before breaking the surface once more.

"You come here often."

You startle at the voice, rubbing at your eyes furiously before opening them wide, searching around for the source. When you finally realize who is relaxing on the grass before you, propped up on two elbows right next to your basket of florals, you can only blink in response.

"Oh, um, yes, I do come here often." You fumble for words, running your fingers through your stream-water wet locks at an attempt to look more presentable. The High Lord's gaze shifts from the Manor to stare directly at you, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"I know." Is all he says. You stare back, fumbling with your fingers under the water. How long had he been there? Watching you? How many times had he seen you come here, spying on his home without permission, like some kind of creep?

"I want to apoligize, sir, for, um," you make your way to the edge of the stream, the water skating over your body in small streams. His gaze tracks the movement, then he meets your eyes again. "I... I just like to come swim here, and it just happens that the Manor is, right... over there, and-"

"Don't apologize," he cuts in, and you purse your lips closed. You stand frozen before him, but he holds your gaze, his vibrant emerald eyes so piercing against the forrest around him. "...and, it's Tamlin. Please," he adds. You nod once, glancing down at your clothes. A slight blush creeps onto your cheeks when you realize you are in fact still standing before the High Lord in nothing but a bathing suit, and you move to redress as quickly as possible.

"No need to stop on my account," he continues as you hastily yank on your top. "In fact, I quite enjoy taking a dip every now and then myself." You pause mid-zip on your boot, glancing toward him, only to find him peering into the clearing.

"That's odd," you say. "I've never seen you out here before."

He chuckles beside you as you finish the last zipper and stand, the motion mirrored by him before he strides closer. Your breath catches when he bends slightly, picking up your basket by the handle and lifting it carefully from the ground. When he is stood at full height again, you peer up into his eyes.

"That's because this isn't usually the spot I choose; for I know of a place far more magical than this."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

The walk back to your cottage home was enjoyable, making small talk with your new friend and enjoying his company along the way was a nice contrast to your usual lonely nights in the woods. He also insisted on carrying your basket, though it wasn't heavy, it still elicited a sort of feeling in your stomach -- something similar to the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wings.

"You go to that same spot so often," he says. "But you've never seen the swans?" You shake your head.

"No, never." You answer. His brow furrows and he shakes his head slightly.

"How peculiar, I've seen them quite a few times near that part of the stream," he says. You shrug your shoulders, a small sinking feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as your cottage comes into view.

"Well, maybe when you see them next time, I'll be around?" You offer. Hopefully he will take the bait, you really, really hoped he would. You needed to see him again.

He chuckles, taking the last few steps across the flat stones behind you up to your front door. You turn to face him, a light smile gracing his lips as he gazes up at you.

"Most definitely, next time," he says, and you grin. He hands you your basket of flowers, and the small brush of his fingers against yours sends electricity through your veins. You swear you could've gasped at the feeling, or even more when he slid the basket over your hand and down to the crook of your elbow, taking your hand in his and bringing the back of it to his lips.

"I'll see you again..." his eyes search yours for a moment, and you realize in your excitement you'd never actually introduced yourself.

"Y/N," you offer. He nods slowly, pressing one more kiss to your skin before carefully releasing your fingers from his.

"Y/N... beautiful."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

It was only three days later that a knock came at your door in the early afternoon as you were perched in the reading nook, book in hand, sunlight illuminating the pages before you. None of that stopped you from leaping from your seat, dashing toward the door and yanking it open to lay your eyes once more on a very charming, very handsome High Lord on your doorstep.

One that was holding a bouquet for you of the loveliest peonies youd ever seen.

"Oh, my!" You gasped. He smiled, extending his offerring to you as you opened the door wider for him to enter. "Please, come in!"

He ducked slightly to enter into your home, and you took the beautiful bouquet from him. He followed you along to the kitchen, peering around at the various plants you had sitting on every surface along with your books and candles alike.

"Don't mind the mess," you said, ducking beneath your sink in search of a vase for the flora. When you'd selected a pretty one, you registered his frown at your still very healthy, very vibrant bouquet on your kitchen table from a few days prior.

"I apologize," he starts. "I... suppose it was a ridiculous idea to think you'd be as clumsy with plant life as I am. I'd thought maybe you needed a new one by now," he explains, a light pink flushing his cheeks. Your sympatetic gaze extends to his face, and you place the bouquet on your kitchen counter where a perfect beam of sunlight shines through the window. You pad over to him, and his gaze lifts from the floor when you reach up onto your tippy toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. His eyebrows lift high in amusement, the color on his face only deepening in crimson. You pretend not to notice, only satisfied at your sudden rush of courage for the act.

"They look better bathed in sunlight than simply sitting on my table anyway," you explain, motioning to the twinkling glass vase holding the peonies across the kitchen. Your eyes meet his again, and he continues to just stare at you, speechless. "Thank you, Tamlin, really. They're beautiful." You smile. He only blinks, smiling softly at you once more.

"So, did you just stop by to bring me flowers? Or are you up for a swim?"

* ✧･ﾟ: *

You'd continued on for weeks like that, Tamlin showing up on your doorstep in the afternoons to take you on walks, or sometimes to swim, or simply sometimes to help you with tasks around your cottage. You had to admit, having a hand in drawing the heavy water pail from the old stone well was very helpful, not to mention... the sight of him while doing it, his exposed biceps straining in the afternoon sun-

"It looks as though a storm is approaching rather quickly."

You're pulled from your recent memory, shaking your head in embarassment as you train your eyes on the darkening sky above. You raise your eyebrows, as indeed, dark stormclouds were approaching rather quickly.

"Yes," you say, stepping over a row of cabbages toward the handsome male. "We should be heading back inside." Tamlin twists his hands nervously.

"It is getting late, I should probably head back to the Manor to make it before-"

Just then, a raindrop lands on his loose white tunic, the wet drop catching the eye of you both. You shake your head at him, giving him a look and making your way through the garden toward the back door of your small home.

"Don't be ridiculous, Tam," you say over your shoulder. "You can at least stay for dinner."

He catches up to you in two easy strides, his warm, long fingers wrapping around your wrist. You turn, your eyes meeting his at the simple touch. Rain begins to fall more steadily now, the tops of your heads beginning to glisten with the mist.

"Did we even gather enough..." he glances down at the basket of various vegetables in your hand -- the one he is still holding. You grin coyly up at him.

"We've gathered more than enough. Now let's get inside before we melt, hm?"

* ✧･ﾟ: *

He watches quietly from your table as you prepare the soup, listening to you hum to yourself in contentment. You can barely steal a glance at him, nearly catching his eye each time, but his sudden voice interrupts your humming.

"Y/N, I'm really glad I met you."

You stir the stove pot quietly for a moment, not wanting to ruin a moment you weren't sure what direction was leading quite yet.

"I... am really glad I met you too, Tamlin." You look to him, offerring a small smile. He only looks down at your table, and you feel concerned as you lift the spoon to your lips to taste the concoction.

"I don't have many friends, so... what we... have, I mean, what we are, or... I don't know what I am saying. I apologize." He sighs, his shoulders rising and falling. "You're just, quite special to me-"

"Oh, shoot!" You drop the spoon back into the pot, settling your hands on your hips and shaking your head. He rises immediately, striding over to you and placing his hands on your shoulders in concern.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, and if you were paying more attention, his proximity and sultry tone would've shaken you to your core.

"No, no, no," you huff. "I forgot the parsnips, those damn parsnips-"

"Where are they?" He asks, already making his way for the back door.

"I left them out in the garden near the row of cabbages -- wait, Tamlin, don't go running out there, its' quite literally-" Just then, a huge bolt of lightning rips through the sky, illuminating the kitchen and making you jump with the loud crack that follows it.

"...Storming." You look toward the back door; its swinging shut, void of the blonde male who should still be very much dry and very much still inside.

You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face before leaning on the counter to peer out the kitchen window. Of course, there he is -- soaking wet, running out into the garden. You shake your head, making for the back door and quickly tugging on your rainboots with a huff.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Tamlin!" You shout over the howling wind. Rain pelts at your arms, the exposed skin against the chill of the air creating goosebumps all over. Your too-big rainboots are making it near impossible to run to keep up with his long legs, and you see he is already reaching to pick up the last of the ingredients you said you needed. When you finally reach him, he is standing up, an armful of parsnips held close to his chest.

"What are you doing out here?" He shouts over the wind.

"Me? Why would you run out here?" You call back, the rain whipping your soaked hair across your face. You peer up into his deep green eyes that stare down at you in concern.

"You... said you needed these!" He yells, and another sharp crack of thunder sounds in the distance. You both flinch, and when you look to him again, he... smiles.

He truly, fully smiles. You smile back, and his shoulders shake lightly, his teeth revealing against his perfect lips, a small laugh escaping. You can't help but chuckle, his beauty so enrapturing and his rare, true smile such a sight to be withheld that you wish to bask in the sight for as long as you can.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

"You have to trust me -- it tasted much better with the parsnips."

Tamlin chuckles, taking another bowl from you to clean in your sink as you help to clear the table.

"Oh, I believe you; I'm just not sure I've met a female who'd go after a male in a wild storm like that," he replies, and you blush. You bring over the last of the cups and spoons, placing them in the basin, and your fingers lightly brush his. His gaze slides to yours for only a second.

"I've never met a male who'd go into a storm like that for me in the first place." You peer up at him. His eyes widen only slightly, and he takes a deep breath before continuing his scrubbing, working particularly hard on making sure your dishes are clean. You smile to yourself, hoping you were playing this the right way, still not fully believing you'd somehow gotten the High Lord in your home, gotten him to like you so much, gotten him to be your friend. It all just didn't feel real.

As he dries off the last few appliances, he straightens his shirt and clears his throat. You lean against your table, and he looks out the window at the continuous falling rain.

"It is late," he mutters. You raise an eyebrow.

"It is." You state.

"I should..." He takes a step forward.

"Stay," you finish, stepping in his path. He stops before you, sighing deeply.

"Y/N-"

"It's still raining," you explain. "You can't travel all the way to the Manor this late in the evening, especially with weather like this," you say. He shakes his head slowly at you, gazing out the window once more. You place your hands on his arms, pulling him rather close. His eyes meet yours again.

"Could I... use your couch?" He asks. One of his hands finds yours on his arms, and you struggle to keep your breathing even as you make the difficult decision not to move too fast and scare him off.

"Nonsense, you can use my room. I can use the couch."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

At the first signs of morning light, you slowly blink your eyes open, snuggling deeper into the warmth of your bed. You move only an inch before registering the large, strong arm wrapped around you, holding you against a rather comfortable chest.

You're not sure how this happened... well. Maybe you remember. But, you would simply chose to be happy about it.

As you turn to face Tamlin, you smile a bit, watching the rise and fall of his bare shoulders as he sleeps contently in front of you. In your bed.

Your bliss is short-lived as he shortly awakes, his emerald green eyes meeting yours as he takes in his surroundings. Your heart rate picks up, not knowing if he will bolt, be angry for ending up in here, perhaps never return?

His arm around your waist wraps tighter, pulling you even closer, and your heart warms as you are close enough now to practically share breath. His eyes drift closed for a moment more

"Good morning," you whisper.

"Good morning to you," his gravelly voice sends a fuzzy feeling through you that you try to ignore... for now.

"Did you... sleep alright?" You ask hesitantly. His eyes open slightly again, and he leans close, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

"That is the best I've slept in months, Y/N." He closes his eyes again, a ghost of a smile on his lips. You blush furiously, at a loss for words. You only hoped this would continue, you could progress from here -- you knew getting your hopes up was silly, he was the High Lord, after all.

"Do you have plans today?" You ask after a few beats of silence. He grins, nodding his head. You frown, wishing you could spend more time with him.

"Oh,"

"I planned to show you one of the most magical places I know."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

You walked anxiously through the forest, following behind your friend willingly as he showed you his special spot. He'd only gone back to the Manor for new clothes and bathing shorts, and left you to change into proper swimwear before the journey.

"Maybe the swans will be here today," he says, looking to you with a wink. You look up at him, adjusting your small woven bag on your shoulder.

"The swans frequent your special swimming place too?" You ask. He shrugs, slowing his pace as you approach a thick brush of vines in your path.

"Not necissarily frequent," he says, sweeping the vines to the side and gesturing for you to move forward through them. "But, I've seen them here before."

As your eyes adjust to the sunlight again, your mouth drops open. "Here" is quite literally the most magical place you'd seen -- he was right. A clearing among the high growing trees allowed a halo of sunlight to stream in, perfectly illuminating the golden pool of starlit-water below. You gazed in, eyes roaming over every swirl and fractal of gold within.

"Oh... Tamlin this is..." you shake your head in bewilderment.

"...I'd hoped you'd like it." He smiles sheepishly, shucking off his boots and trousers near the pool's edge. You lay down your bag, slipping off your flats and skirt as your eyes are still glued to the golden bath before you. You almost miss the gorgeous man beside you pulling his tunic off, every upper-body muscle flexing as he tugs on it before tossing it aside. He looks to you, his eyes unashamedly roaming along the length of your esposed legs before focusing on your eyes.

"Ready to get in?" He asks. You simply nod, unlacing your top and shoving it in your bag. He steps in, wading in waist-deep before extending a hand to you. You feel every butterfly flap furiously inside your stomach as you take it, and he gently pulls you in, the delicious golden liquid twirling around you and engulfing you in full.

"This is... just... magical, Tamlin," you admit. He grins, reaching to take your other hand in his. You gaze up at him. "How did you happen upon this place?"

He shrugs, the movement sending the water rippling around him as he moves the two of you deeper in, the water encircling your upper-arms. "Everyone has their special spots, I suppose."

You look around, taking in the scenery, and when you focus on him again, you blush seeing he's only been gazing at you. You swim back for a bit, floating on your back, allowing your hair to swirl around you. You feel so relaxed, but wouldn't close your eyes for a moment here in fear you'd miss something so beautiful.

"Y/N... I need to be honest with you." His gaze hardens, and you place your feet on the pond floor once more, returning your stare to his.

"Oh, of course," you nod. Your heart rate picks up, and he draws close to you again.

"When I returned today... to the Manor," he starts. A knot begins forming in your stomach. Here it is. Here it comes.

"I... in my absence, everything was able to run as normal, and though being a High Lord is not what I would have chosen to do with my life," his hands find your hips, and he pulls you flush against him. Your breath catches, and you stare intently up at him.

"I need you to know that I've felt more fulfillment in these past few months than I ever have in my lifetime." He says. Your eyes widen, realizing what you're hearing.

"Tamlin... I don't know what to say, I've only dreamt of something like this, I just wonder about the court? Your subjects at the Manor-"

"They don't need me at the Manor," he says. "I could just be with you, in the cottage, all the time, Y/N. Just," he holds you even closer, his hands sliding over the curve of your spine. Your fingers instinctively slide up the length of his arms, eventually wrapping loosely around his neck. "...just me and you, all the time." His tone is almost pleading, his eyes searching yours in desperation.

You don't hold back any longer, closing the gap between you and pressing your lips to his. He breathes in deep, his hands pressing you impossibly close as he moves his lips slowly against yours. You slowly wrap your legs around his waist, and one of his hands moves over the fabric of your stretched bikini bottom to the underneath of your bum. He continues to kiss you, parting his lips and allowing you in to expore as his hands roam over your skin, feeling each inch and sending fireworks through you as he does.

When you pull back after a few minutes to breathe, he rests his forhead against yours, his beautiful, perfect smile coming out once more.

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he whispers, his gaze fixating over your shoulder.

You turn to see what's caught his eye, gasping at the sight of two swans nesting quietly near the edge of the golden pool.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

[obeymematches]

MC acting oblivious!

since you're accepting hcs now, how about an mc whos a big tease/bully (aka mammons worst nightmare lol)? im quick to realize when someone has a crush on me and when i like them back i turn into the biggest tease on earth until the other person confesses. im good at acting oblivious so its always "wait, they cant possibly know i like them, right??" poor, poor souls lmao. so im wondering how the brothers+undateables would handle an mc like that! keep up the great work! 💕

Hi, good to see you again !!! <3 

okay i love this so much lets go ! 

Lucifer: 

Okay so in his case it’s mentioned several times that he is in love with the MC so this ain’t just some crush he’s being teased about but that’s one of the reasons why he loves you so much.  

He is rather guarded emotianlly as his pride isn’t going to let him just fall for anyone. But once he does he is not going to deny it!  

Lucifer is someone who will ask you out on a date without a warning. The only thing you might notice beforehead is that he spends suspiciously lots of his time with you. (by a lot in his case I mean something in between 30 and 60 mins every second day. he’s a busy man) 

Him: My schedule is tight today but I would like to spend time with you, MC, would you care to join me at a confectionary?  MC: sounds like you’re very busy, are you sure about that? 🥺 Him,  slightly offended but still lovingly: Yes, MC. Let me express myself better... would you please have a date with me today? MC: oh....um-

Mammon:

● oh god, oh jesus, oh no

● We all know The Great Mammon has a hard time admitting his feelings out loud, with words, bluntly.

● So the way I see it, the situation is about to be Awkward As Hell.

● Mammon is clearly sweating, butterflies occupying his entire stomach, he fiddles with his nails.

● Him: So MC, I was thinking- I mean I'm thinking- wanna go skating with me tonight?

MC: Oh that's a very romantic idea- but I think friends don't just go skating, you know.

Him: Friends??! I don't wanna be just your friend MC-

You: Then? Then what?

Him: Goddamn I- I just want to be yours- Jesus ya are makin' it so difficult MC, it is not easy as is!!

Leviathan:

● ahh the frustrated face he makes through this conversation isn't just a facade. He really is stressing right now.

● Him: MC.... there is something I must tell you. And you only. Please listen and don't tell anyone!

MC: Don't worry Levi, I too hate people who gossip-

Him: No it's not like that. I have a desire in my heart that I must share with you as you are the most special person I ever met and I can only hope you feel the same way for me and- I feel so embarassed but I've been meaning to ask you this- would you be my partner? My player 2?

MC: well if you wanted me to play you could have just said so like you always do-

Levi: What?? Is that what you understood? No MC you don't get it! Ahhh I knew I shouldn't have asked you my chances with you are close to zero-

MC: Wait Levi I'm so sorry-

Satan:

● You could tell he was acting different these past couple of days. He was texting you more, he offered to spend more time with you- it was obvious he likes you.

● He knocked on your bedroom door and as you liked him just as much as he liked you, of course you let him in.

● I think you acting like you don't know what's going on turns him on? Like he know you ain't stupid. He knows you like him at least a little bit too, otherwise he wouldn't be here talking with you.

● Him: So MC, are you free now?

MC: Well, it depends on how you define "free" I think.

Him: Oh quit it please.

MC: I would if I knew what you were up to right now-

Him: Alright. You are going to make it more complicated, I see. In this case, meet me at 4PM at the common room. Please. I'd like to take you on a date if you're free.

MC: Inside the house? Weird if you ask me-

Him: ...... you are right actually. Let's meet at the park then. Don't be late.

Asmo:

● Again he would absolutely love you acting like you noticed nothing when he couldn't be more clear about what he wants.

● He knows this game though & he is quicker than you are.

● Him, cuddling you: So MC I have been thinking about us....what are we?

● MC: We are.... the best. Me, a human, and you, a demon.

Him: Nooooo, you know that's not what I meant!!!

MC: Well I don't know what you mean Asmo. Aren't we though?

Him: Aren't we what? A human and a demon?? Ahhhhg stop playing with me MC!

Beelzebub:

● Ohh babe is going to believe you actually don't know what' going on-

● I think he'd find it funny when he realizes you were just acting like such-

Him: MC. I like you.

MC: Okay, I like you too. That's why I'm your friend.

Him: Yes we are friends I know... but to me you are the first person I want to talk to if anything happens, good or bad... you are on my mind all the time, no matter what- I haven't felt like this in my entire life- you are the most special person to me, MC.

MC: Ohhh... I didn't realize-

Him: I only went out with Mammon yesterday because I thought... I was hoping you'd be there to, that you'd join... I just wanted to spend more time with you. But you weren't there. Let's go somewhere together today- I mean, if you want to-

Belphegor:

● MC you are about to annoy him to deatg to be fair.

● Depending on his mood he might join you though!!!

Him: So human- I mean MC. Let's hang out today.

MC: We already do.

Him: I meant as a date, stop playing stupid.

MC: I don't like being called stupid. Is this how you are asking me out on a date??

Him: See I knew you knew what I meant!

MC: Why would you ask me on a date though, aren't we just friends?

Him: .....

Him: We could change that- I want to be your one and only.

MC: Well if you are my one and only friend I might get lonely when you're too busy for me though-

Him: Stop it don't say another word. Are you coming today or not? MC? You listening?

MC: you just asked me to shut up-

[writingonleaves]

write me into your thoughts (i'll be safe with the words on the page) - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x amelie fishel (reckless driving au)

warnings: swearing, not proofread nearly enough lol, not much else i can think of!

inspired by + title: "on the page" by maggie rogers

word count: 15k

author's note: hi everyone! thank you for your patience. i had a wonderful time writing this one - it's always fun digging into jack and amelie's relationship. this is a part two, so if you haven't already, please read part one here! please let me know what you think and flood my inbox with all your thoughts!! worlds like this only come alive with you all, so any feedback you have, i'd love to hear it. i hope you enjoy❤️

taglist: @ru-kru, @bunbunbl0gs (lmk if you wanna be added)

amelie

Their first official date happens later than both Amelie and Jack would’ve liked.

They have to postpone it twice. The first is because Amelie is assigned to cover an Islanders pre-season game last minute. The second is because Jack forgets that he has a thing with Hockey in New Jersey until the night before. Both of them wanted to get away in Prague with just each other for a few hours but it proved to be too complicated, both with the actual scheduling and wanting to keep it on the down low from the team, especially because they’re not really anything yet and she just started the job and he respects that.

The Devils had asked her to tag along with some of the guys even on their off day to compile some sort of photo collage. They didn’t really give her many instructions, so she took that as an invitation to be creative. She switched between disposable, digital and film and had a lot of fun doing it, tagging along as they did touristy things and enjoyed each other’s company during meals. 

At first, she was a bit intimidated at inserting herself into a group of guys who had just met. It took her the first full season of covering Michigan hockey before she even felt comfortable. But Curtis Lazar specifically took her in, introducing his family to her and treating her like an uncle would. Amelie just let the guys riff off each other while she snapped pictures whenever it felt right. Whatever she did, the team seemed to like, and that’s more than okay with her. 

(She got some awesome pictures of a few of them on film that she didn’t necessarily think are the best to put out to the public but she thinks they or their families might appreciate them. She saves those, and vows to herself to try to do that as much as she can, making sure that her love of photography doesn’t just boil down to her job. 

She has more than a few pictures of Jack, whether purposefully or not. They’ll be of use someday.)

The time they got to really let loose was the night after the second game, with everyone in high spirits after winning both games against Buffalo. Amelie had squeezed Seamus for an extra long time when she first saw him after the game and everyone was dressed to go out. 

Both of them being rookies as Wolverine alums. It’s kinda touching. At least, everyone else thinks it does. Amelie does too, really, but she’s just trying not to fuck up at her very new and very cool job. The sentimentality of it all hasn’t quite hit her yet.

She’s trying to ignore Jack’s eyes that seem to always be on her. Right now, she just needs to focus on Prague and then deal with whatever that is when they get back to Jersey. 

The day after the Devils home opener, she gets a text from Jack.

Jack Hughes

is today finally the day?

Amelie Fishel

i’m free! are you?

Jack Hughes

;)

just got out of morning skate 

lunch? and we can walk around after?

or would you rather do dinner?

Amelie Fishel

lunch sounds good

you want me to pick a place?

Jack Hughes

i got it 

11:30 okay? i’ll pick you up

Amelie Fishel

that’s perfect 

see you soon!!

Amelie swallows as she looks into her closet. It doesn’t really matter. Jack’s seen her going-out outfits as well as her lounging at home fits. But she wants to feel good and comfortable because she doesn’t really know what to expect.

She’s surprised Jack has seemed to be so receptive, even though she’s the one who messed it all up that July night. 

With a white sweater and black leggings on, she ties a black ribbon into her hair and takes a deep breath, just as her phone buzzes. 

Jack Hughes

what’s your apt #

Amelie Fishel

6A

She spritzes her perfume on just as she hears a knock on her door. She grabs her bag, slips on her boots and goes to open the front door. 

Amelie swallows as she opens the door. Jack looks up from his phone, quickly slips it into his pocket, and smiles sweetly. He’s wearing an olive green jacket over a white shirt, tucked into blue jeans. His curls look good and she takes a deep breath.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

“Hey.” She looks down at the singular pink tulip in his hand.

He clears his throat. “I, uh, walked past the floral shop like, a block away from here? And I just..thought of you.”

“Oh,” she mutters softly. “Thank you. Let me put it in a vase and then we’ll head out.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Take your time.”

Amelie fetches a mason jar and cuts the stem so that it’s proportionate. After admiring it for a second as it sits on her kitchen table, she walks back to the door, making sure she has her keys. She debates reaching for his hand, but she doesn’t, as they walk towards the elevator. 

She notices that he leaves some distance between them as he leans his back against the wall. She must be giving him a look without realizing, because he lets out a nervous laugh. “What?”

“What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“How?”

“I don’t know!” She vaguely gestures. “Why are you so…quiet?”

He laughs, and she smiles at the sound. “Sorry,” he says genuinely. “I’m not trying to be…I just don’t wanna mess this up again.”

All humor washes away from Amelie’s face as her stomach churns, watching Jack fidget. “I’m the one that lied to you, Jack,” she says softly. “You have nothing to make up for.”

“Maybe,” he admits. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t do things wrong either. I wanna do it right this time. I’m sorry if I’m being weird.”

She can’t take it anymore, scooting herself closer to him and intertwining their hands together. Immediately, he squeezes them.

This might be their first official date. But she thinks she’s been his for awhile now, Even when they weren’t talking. 

In hindsight, Amelie knew that lying to Jack, even if it was only for a few days, was the wrong move the second she did it. It took talking to her sisters, some friends and fucking Ethan Edwards for her to stop beating herself up about it so much and focus on moving forward and making it better (“if that’s something you want to do,” Ethan had added over the phone when she was close to hyperventilating. “You have endless chances to make up for lying. It’s obvious he still cares about you. You just need to do something about it. He’d forgive you in a heartbeat, Ami.”) 

She had convinced herself that Jack wouldn’t want to hear her out, and that working adjacent with his team would just be filled with polite exchanges and nothing more. But then they locked eyes at Media Day and he caught her trying to get herself together and told her that he’d always say yes to her, whatever the fuck that means. 

They’re walking out to the parking lot when Jack tugs their hands to a light stop in front of his car. He opens the passenger seat door, but pauses. She turns to him in confusion. 

“You okay?” He asks, eyebrows pinched in concern. “I lost you for a bit.”

She tries to smile convincingly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Amelie, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he swallows. “If you-”

“No,” she says firmly, slipping into the seat. She’s not gonna let misunderstandings come between them again. “I want to do this. I’m just…freaking out a bit?”

He starts the engine before turning towards her. “Yeah, yeah. I get that. It’s just me though.”

She huffs. Because that’s partially the problem. She changes the subject. “Where are we going?”

“Clee likes this place called Elysian Cafe? I think it’s French.”

Amelie hums. “Sounds good.” She looks over to him. “Who knows this is happening?”

“The date?”

“Yeah.”

“Luke and Clee, obviously. Quinn. Probably Nico through Clee. Or me. I probably mentioned it to him. Why?”

She shrugs. “Just want to know what I’m working with.”

“Who knows on your end?”

“Just Col and Char,” she chuckles slightly at the memory. “They’re the ones who convinced me to try again in the first place.”

“Then I know who I have to thank,” Jack smiles. “You-I hope that’s okay that I told them?”

She shrugs. “They’re your siblings. Or dating one of them. I wouldn’t have any right to feel upset, especially because I did the same thing.”

“But you work with two of them.”

Right. Yeah. Part of the reason they had their whole misunderstanding in the summer. She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m trying to get over that hump for myself. But it’s not something neither of us can control, I guess.”

He becomes quiet, before, “I’m sorry I didn’t understand that before, like, why that mattered so much to you.”

She blinks as they wait at a light, the turn signal flicking being their only soundtrack. “That’s okay. I lied to you, so we were both in the wrong.”

“But you did it for good reason and I didn’t see that at the time,” he runs a hand through his hair. 

Amelie swallows down any doubt and leans over to kiss Jack lightly on the cheek. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

One side of his lips quirk up into his signature smirk. Amelie doesn’t even roll her eyes. “So how’s the start of the job been? Busy?”

“Very,” she settles back in the seat. “But good. Media day was nuts, as you saw. Prague was really fun. Pre-season was good but crazy. I’m sure I’ll get used to it soon.”

“Have you been able to explore Jersey much? Or go into Manhattan?”

“Not really,” she admits. “When I do have free time I’ve been unpacking and sleeping. I’m on duty for the Rangers when you guys are on the road trip though so maybe I’ll have more time to explore the city then if I’m not too tired.”

He pouts slightly. “What am I supposed to be telling everyone? That my girlfriend works for the enemy?”

“I work for your team too, loser,” she shoots back, before hesitating. “Girlfriend’s a bit presumptuous, no?”

“It is,” he admits. “But I’m hoping by the end of this date and however many more that I can make it an easier decision for you.”

Amelie’s half stunned at his boldness. But then she remembers that they have kissed multiple times. It just feels different without the fragility of summer and Michigan. It feels different in New Jersey. Almost forbidden. But she knows those are just boundaries she’s put up all on her own.

She tries to push that down. She can’t keep getting lost in her own head. Jack’s right here. “How about you? Season starting out okay? Is that a stupid question?”

He chuckles. “Season’s good, I think. Prague was definitely very fun. I don’t know. You don’t wanna look too ahead, you know? Just focus on the next few games. Work on what you need to work on.”

Amelie can’t help but snort. “Very diplomatic of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you spit that out to a journalist earlier?”

He sputters, “You asked!”

She chuckles. “I know.”

When they reach the restaurant, they’re not even sitting down at their table yet when Amelie’s skin prickles up. She can feel someone watching them. She’s proven right when a young teenager politely asks for a picture right after they get seated. The interaction takes all of 30 seconds but Jack looks so apologetic afterwards.

“I’m sorry,” he says after the boy walks away. 

“It’s all good,” she replies sincerely before grinning with a light shrug. “I know you’re a big deal.”

“Still. I don’t-”

“Jack,” he shuts up immediately, looking at her like she’s the only person in the world. “It’s fine. I promise.” They both thank the waiter as he fills up their glasses. “How is everyone? Luke and Quinn and Clementine and all them.”

“They’re good,” he says, automatically more at ease talking about his family. “I mean, you see Luke so you know. Quinn seems to be doing well up there with the Canucks. Just start of the season stuff. And Clee’s good. Really busy at the hospital so I’ve barely seen her, to be honest.”

“Do you like living with them?”

“I love it,” he replies honestly. “Living with both of them is like, I don’t know. It feels like childhood again. But we’re all grown up and not as stupid as before. Well, me and Luke. Clee’s always been smart. But no, it’s fun living with them. I’m not sure how long it’ll be until Clee moves out so I’ll take what I can get.”

“She’s moving out?”

Jack shrugs. They both order — mussels to share for an appetizer, a burger for him and fish tacos for her. He waits until the waiter walks away. “She hasn’t said anything yet. But her and Nico are getting pretty serious. I mean, I guess they’ve only been dating for, like, 6 months, but I could see her moving in with him sooner rather than later.”

She hums. “How do you feel about that? Like, them being together. It has to be a bit weird, right?”

“It can be,” he drums his fingers on the table. “Last season, I joked a lot about it. But then it actually happened and it was like, woah, my older sister is now dating my captain and two parts of my life are combining in a way that it hasn’t before. But they’re pretty good at like, the separation I guess. Not that-I really like them together. I think they’re actually really good for each other. He calms her down and she knocks some sense into his head.” He chuckles and Amelie realizes how much she loves that sound. “I would’ve introduced them earlier if I’d known how good they would be together.”

“I can’t imagine living with either of my sisters, to be honest, even if I love them.”

“Why is that?”

“I think I need my own space.”

He hums, and before she can overthink about how that may come across, he switches topics. “So what did you get up to the rest of the summer?”

Overthinking about how I left things with you is the honest answer, but they don’t need to get into that. “Not much, I guess. Packed. Hung around. Saw some friends. Went to a concert.”

“Who did you see?”

“I don’t know if you know her. Lizzy McAlpine?”

“I don’t. Text me some of your favorite songs from her later. I’ll listen to them.”

She chuckles. “I don’t really think it’s your type of music.”

“What’s your favorite song by her?”

“Uh uh,” she teases with a wry smile. “You don’t get to have that information yet.”

“I’ll earn it,” he says, a bit too seriously for their topic of conversation. “So, concerts. You know, everyone usually comes by to New York City. I’m sure you’ll be able to catch some people there.”

“You an expert on NYC?”

Jack shrugs. “Not really, considering, you know, all this. But when we have a few days off I like to go in. I have some spots I enjoy a lot.”

“We should go in sometime and you can show me your spots.”

His lips spread slowly into a grin. “Yeah?”

She nods, looking down at her lap. “Yeah. Whenever I get my feet under me.”

“It seems like you’re handling everything just fine,” he says.

Amelie lets out a laugh as she leans back. “I’m really good at faking it.”

“Luke misses you.”

“I just saw him yesterday.”

“No, I know, but like, just hanging out with you. He’s started bugging me about the three of us hanging out like we did in Michigan.”

“We’re not in Michigan anymore.”

“Sure, but what’s the difference?”

She’s saved from answering as their food comes. 

Lunch is delicious and fun and light and Jack is exactly how she remembers from the summer, even if the October chill is settling in and they’re not in the MIchigan sunshine anymore. Seeing Jack against the windows of a cafe in Hoboken, looking at ease, at her, nothing has changed between them. But also, so many things have. 

She wishes she could fully enjoy and let go of … whatever has been in her gut since she hid her sobs in her hand at her grandparents’ house. Jack has been doing everything right and she’s trying to enjoy herself. 

(She’s scared)

They decide to walk around for a bit after they eat, not wanting to leave each other’s company quite yet. They’re walking through a park and admiring the empty fountain when Jack laughs. 

“Uh oh.” 

She’s confused. “What?”

Jack chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. You look like you’re about to say something that you don’t think I’m gonna like.”

She blinks. Fuck. “Am I that obvious?”

“No,” he admits. “Lucky guess. Or maybe I just know you. Spill. What’s going on in that pretty head?”

She stares at her shoes.  Be brave, she tells herself. “Can you-can we take this slow? I-I know that we aren’t really starting from step one but I-I,” she trails off, trying to steady her voice.

“Hey,” he mutters softly, pulling her to the side of the path so they don’t block people. “I was kidding earlier about the girlfriend stuff. I don’t care about that. I care about you and whatever pace you want to go at. Or no pace if that’s something you also want to do.”

“And you’d be okay with no pace at all?”

She stares at his adam's apple bopping up and down. “If that’s what you wanted. I’m obviously not, not gonna force you into anything you don’t want to be in. I’m not that much of an asshole.” He chuckles weakly. 

She realizes suddenly that Jack actually thinks there’s a chance of her turning him down. A chance of her saying she doesn’t want anything to do with him, which is definitely not the case. She knows she wants him. She just doesn’t know what that looks like yet, which is why:

“We can take it slow?” She asks. 

“Whatever pace you want,” he assures. “Whatever you want.”

“And the team?”

“What about the team?”

“Well, they’ll have to know, right? I might not work for the Devils directly but there’s a conflict of interest there.”

“They don’t have to know anything,” he assures. “Definitely not yet. Once they do, we’ll figure it out together.”

She bites her lip, because yeah, that sounds nice, but he’s untouchable in the grand scheme of things. She’s much more disposable in comparison. “Jack.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” he repeats. “I promise.”

And promises have never really meant much to Amelie. But the look in Jack’s eyes is so comforting and insistent that she can’t do anything but believe him.

*****

jack

It’s getting colder now, as it does in early to mid October in Jersey. Jack rubs his hands together as he locks his car. He has the day off today after playing the Caps last night and Amelie also has the day off. The plan is to spend a day in New York City. He hasn’t heard from her this morning, which is a bit unusual, but that doesn’t phase him as he enters the elevator and then stops in front of Amelie’s apartment. 

Three crisp knocks and he’s shoving his hands in his coat pockets and rocking back and forth. It takes upwards to a minute before the door is cracked open. The automatic smile on his face quickly drops into a concerned frown when he sees her. 

“Are you okay?” 

Amelie, hair messed up, in a Michigan t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, responds with three consecutive sneezes. “Shit,” she sniffles. “I thought I texted you.”

He closes the door behind him and lets himself in her apartment. “What happened?”

“Woke up feeling like crap,” she coughs into her elbow. “Coughing, sneezing, a bit of a sore throat. I think it’s a bad cold.”

“So no frolicking to the city, I assume?” He jokes lightly. 

Her shoulders deflate. “I’m sorry. I was really looking forward to it..”

“No stress,” he assures gently. He untangles her crossed arms and squeezes her fingers gently. “Go lay down on the couch.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Huh?”

“Do you have things in the kitchen to make soup?”

“No?” She blinks. “I was supposed to go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

He hums. “Okay. I’ll run to the store. Do you have medicine?”

She blinks again, her brain catching up. “You don’t have to stay. You’ll get sick.”

“I’m staying. Do you have medicine?” He repeats. She nods. He presses a kiss on her forehead, another wave of concern washing over him as he notes how clammy it is. “Hang tight, baby. I’ll be back soon.”

“You really don’t have to stay.”

“I want to,” Jack swallows. “If you really want me to go, I will. But you’re not feeling well, and I’d like to help out.”

A few seconds of silence before Amelie nods, rubbing her nose. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Anytime. I’ll be quick.”

It takes 30 minutes for Jack to grab ingredients from the note on his Notes app for a basic chicken noodle soup recipe that his mom sent him way back in his rookie year, some cough drops, extra cold medicine, and call Clementine in a panic to check that he isn’t forgetting anything (“She probably just needs to sleep it off,” Clementine says, traces of Nico’s voice in the background). Jack had grabbed Amelie’s keys from her counter when he left so he lets himself back in quietly, finding Amelie laying down on the couch. 

“Hey,” he announces himself with a soft voice. Amelie just lets out something between a groan and a sigh. “That bad?”

“No. I’m just being dramatic,” she pouts, scrolling through Netflix. “I wanna watch something but I know what. Do you have a preference?”

Jack starts unpacking the bag in her kitchen. “You’re the one who’s sick. I’m fine with whatever.”

“Have you ever seen La La Land?”

“I have not.”

“Of course you haven’t. We’re watching it. It’s my comfort movie.”

“Gimme, like, 15 minutes?” He asks. “I need to prepare the soup.”

“Sure,” she yawns. “I should probably take a shower.”

“You’ll definitely feel better.”

She lets her hair out of her hair tie. “Just tell me I look like shit next time.”

He gives her a look, shaking his head. “You never look like shit.”

Amelie scoffs lightly with a small smile, getting off the couch. “Sure, Jack.”

“Shoo,” he flicks his hand. “Delicious chicken noodle soup coming to you soon.”

17 minutes later, the soup is simmering on the stove and Amelie walks back out with damp hair. She coughs heartily and winces, coming to the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water. “It smells good.”

Jack almost beams. “Thanks. An Ellen Weinberg-Hughes specialty.”

She hums. “Movie time?”

“Well, it’s one of your favorites. So we have to.”

When they get to the couch and Amelie presses play, he hesitates. He wants to put an arm around her and let her snuggle against his side, but he doesn’t want her to be uncomfortable. As the opening number starts, he doesn’t have to overthink it any longer, because she pulls the blanket over both of them and leans the side of her head against his shoulder. He swears she can feel the smile on his face when he kisses her temple. 

Two hours later, two empty bowls are on the table in front of them, there are tear streaks on Amelie’s face and Jack is a bit confused. “That’s your comfort movie?”

“Yeah. Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he blinks. “I’m just saying that it seems pretty sad to be a movie that comforts you.”

She shrugs. “It’s sad, but it’s also life. And it’s beautiful. And it’s about moments and how sometimes, things just aren’t meant to be. It’s realistic.”

He hums in affirmation. “Not a dreamer, eh?”

“I wish I was more of one,” she admits. “Sometimes I feel like I’m limiting myself because I don’t want to dream too big because I feel like I’ll inevitably be disappointed.”

“I don’t think you could disappoint anyone,” he rushes out. 

“It’s not about what other people think,” she says with a light cough, staring ahead at the TV. “It’s about what I think of myself.”

And, well, yeah. Jack knows that feeling all too well. 

“You’re doing awesome, you know?” He says, trying to offer some encouragement as they face each other, knees barely touching. “I mean, I’m not going to pretend I understand every aspect of your job, but I’ve heard from Josh and, just from seeing how hard you work and how much you care about it, especially because you’re new…don’t stress out about it. You’re doing great.”

“You think?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

“You don’t sound so sure,” he teases. 

One side of her lips quirk up, as she tilts her head to the side in thought. “I guess it wasn’t really my professional life I was talking about with the whole dreamer question.”

“So your personal life?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. La La Land is so heartbreaking but it’s also, at its core, a story about love and dreams and…” She trails off, avoiding eye contact with him. 

Jack swallows. Guess he’ll be the brave one. “So you’re a romantic.”

“Is that surprising?”

“A bit. But not in a bad way.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever let myself really believe that I am one, if that makes sense.” It doesn’t, but she pays him no mind, a furrow in her eyebrow indicating that she’s piecing her thoughts together. “I think for awhile, I just convinced myself it wouldn’t ever amount to anything. So instead of ever, I don’t know, thinking that I would find someone who really just likes me for me in that way, I figured no one ever would. Which sucks, because I’ve always wanted that.”

He wants to say so much, but nothing comes out of his mouth except for an affirming hum. “The movie was great.”

She blinks, a smile spreading on her face. “You think?”

“Yeah. But you should sleep,” he tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I’m surprised you didn’t conk out during.”

Her lips turn into a pout, “I usually would fight you, but I don’t have the strength.”

“Bed or couch?”

She yawns, already leaning her head on a pillow. “I’m not moving.” Before Jack can think about what he’s going to do, she makes grabby hands in his direction. “Nap time.”

“Me too?”

“You have other places to be?” She asks, eyes already closed. 

He tucks himself next to her and pulls the blanket over them both. “Nowhere but here.”

(“Thanks for coming today,” Amelie says hours later, leaning her hip against the doorway as Jack’s about to head home. It’s already 10 p.m., and he has practice tomorrow morning. 

“Do you feel better?” He asks. She nods. “Then that’s all that matters.”

“But what if you wake up tomorrow and you’re sick? Still gonna like me then?”

And he knows she’s half-teasing, but he ducks down to leave a lingering kiss on her cheek. “Of course.”

She hums, rubbing her eyes. “And thanks for the soup. I’m gonna have enough to last me for days.”

“That was the idea.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Am I gonna see you Friday?”

“Unless I get worse, then I should be there,” she nods, before wrapping her arms around his waist. “See you later.”

“Bye, babe.”

“Wait,” he turns back around as she leans her head on the doorway. “‘Staying.’”

“Hm?”

“That’s my favorite Lizzy McAlpine song. Or one of them.”

“‘Staying?’ That’s what it’s called?” She nods. He tucks that into the back of his mind. “Okay. I’ll let you know what I think.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

“Night.”)

amelie

It’s been a crazy month of ups and downs, but Amelie isn’t lying when she tells her family that she loves her job. 

Sometimes she feels a bit out of her element, like when she can’t get a good angle on a shot no matter how hard she tries or when the dynamics of being a part of a professional sports organization (and sometimes, with the teams she covers, it feels like multiple organizations in one) are harder to figure out than usual. But then the familiar sounds of a game flood through her ears and she reaches up to touch the ribbon in her hair — switching between red, orange or blue depending on what team she’s shooting — and she takes a deep breath and feels okay again. 

More often than not, if she’s at the Rock, she catches Jack’s eye, or a glimpse of his hair, or even just the 86 and it brings her a sense of calm. 

They don’t interact that much at work besides hellos and some stolen short conversations here or there. She’s usually busy running around during pre-game and then he’s playing when they’re actually in the same proximity. 

She has a moment after shooting an Islanders game and then getting the notification that Jack had just scored in a game against Colorado in their arena. Before she leaves the parking lot, she clicks on Jack’s contact anyways, waiting to leave a voicemail. 

“Hey, uh, congrats on the goal. Unsure if you win since the game is tied as I’m calling, but hope you guys pull it out. I don’t really know why I’m calling, to be honest. I was just thinking about you. I think we both have a day off right when you get back to Jersey, and I was wondering, if maybe you’d wanna go into Manhattan finally? Let me know. I’ll see you when you get back. Okay, bye.”

(She wakes up the next day to see she has a missed call and a voicemail from Jack

“Hey Baby. I guess I could’ve waited to call you in the morning but I didn’t want to wait. We won, by the way. And yeah, I’m totally down to go into the city when we both have a minute. I, uh, we’ll catch up when I get back. But it was really nice to hear your voice, even if just over a voicemail. Have a good day. Bye.”)

They don’t get to go to Manhattan when Jack comes back, because Amelie is asked to fill in last minute for a Flyers game. She feels like she’s more bummed about it than Jack is. Or at least outwardly. In fact, after that voicemail, they don’t really get a chance to talk until four days later, when Jack catches her at The Rock before the game against Washington.

He grabs her arm lightly and leads them to a small alcove. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she can’t help but smile. “Good skate this morning?”

“Good as can be. Bummed we couldn’t go into the city the other day.”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he hesitates, before: “Hey. What plans do you have after the game tonight?”

“Nothing?”

“Come over to mine after,” she opens her mouth but he barrels on. “Clee’s working late and Luke won’t bother us. I just, I don’t know. I feel like we haven’t been able to see each other. And you have to head over to MSG tomorrow afternoon, right? We can grab breakfast somewhere, then.” 

Amelie opens and closes her mouth two times. “You don’t think it’s too soon for me to stay over?”

His eyes widen. “Shit. I didn’t even-I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t-I wasn’t, like, I don’t expect anything. I can sleep on the couch. I just figured it would make it more convenient because we’ve been missing out on seeing each other lately. I’m gonna be tired after the game anyways and I was thinking we could just put something on TV or-”

“Okay.”

He blinks. “Okay?”

She nods before she can back out. “Yeah. I have an overnight bag in my car in case I ever get stranded somewhere and need to crash.”

“You sure?”

She can’t help but chuckle a bit. “You brought it up first, Jack. You backing out now?”

“No, of course not. But the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.” 

“It’s fine,” she says. And it is, really. But now that’s all she’s going to be thinking about for the rest of the day. “Seriously. It’s good. Your bed better be comfortable.”

He barks out a laugh. “It is. Great. I’ll see you later?”

“I’ll be around. Good luck.” With one last smile, he ducks out of alcove. She takes a breath, tugging at her jacket, before making her way out as well. 

Kennedy, another photographer that strictly works with the Devils that Amelie’s become fast friends with, chuckles. “You’re not slick.”

Amelie lets out a small scream, before rolling her eyes. “Fuck, Kenny! A warning next time would be nice. And it’s not anything.”

Kennedy snorts as they both walk down the hallway. “Yeah, sure.”

“No, seriously, it’s just…we’re figuring it out.”

The older girl softens. “Hey, I was just making a joke. It’s none of my business. You guys are adults.”

“It’s something,” Amelie admits. “But I just don’t quite know what yet.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Kennedy assures. “I’ve known Jack longer than I’ve known you. I know you’ll figure it out. Now, Candace just brewed a fresh pot of coffee and we need to grab some before everyone comes in.”

They’re almost too late, because Coach Keefe has just poured out his cup and Kennedy rushes over to take the carafe out of his hand as he laughs. One day Amelie will get the confidence to do that. 

“How are you settling in?” He asks Amelie kindly as Kennedy hands her a mug.

“Pretty well,” she says. “Still trying to get used to the chaos of the season but it’s been great and everyone’s been awesome.”

“I imagine that’s even more difficult when you have a bunch of schedules to balance.”

“It can get tricky,” she shrugs with a smile. “Keeps the job fresh though.”

“I bet.” A few seconds of comfortable silence sipping their respective coffees before Coach continues. “You went to the University of Michigan, right? I think I’ve seen you wearing that maize M around.”

“I did.”

“My niece is a junior in high school and thinking about doing something with sports, whether it’s business or photography or communications, probably because she’s been surrounded by the ice her whole life,” Coach Keefe laughs. “Earlier this season, Luke was talking to her about Michigan and I think he got her hooked.”

Amelie has to laugh at that. Classic Luke. “Well, I’d be happy talking to her if she wants a perspective from someone who wasn’t an athlete.”

“Would you really? I’m sure she would appreciate that.”

“Yeah, totally,” she fishes out a business card. “She can text me anytime. No promises I’ll respond too quickly, but I will as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Amelie. Truly.”

“Of course, Coach.”

He turns back to Kennedy and jokes. “You must hate her, huh?”

Kennedy, who went to Ohio State, rolls her eyes. “With her, Shea and Luke, I feel constantly outnumbered here.”

“Don’t forget Jack,” Coach Keefe said. 

“Oh, we don’t,” Kennedy chuckles. Amelie simultaneously wants to roll her eyes at her unsubtly and slap her shoulder. Instead, she settles with a look, to which Kennedy pointedly ignores. 

After morning skate and editing what she needs to edit, Amelie heads to the grocery store for a quick run before stopping by at home to relax for a bit. She decides at the last minute to grab a bouquet of mums to put in her kitchen. After unloading her groceries, she tries to tidy up around her apartment but ultimately gives up, collapsing down on the couch. She has around an hour to kill before needing to get redressed to head back into the rink. 

What does she do with that hour? Lounge around on her couch and pick up the latest book she’s reading. A memoir that AJ, the head of Devils socials, recommended. She hasn’t read as much as she used to, due to everything changing, but snuggling into her couch even just for a little to flip pages in a book calms her down. 

When it’s time to go, she’s about to walk out the door before she stops herself, heading to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. That seems reasonable to give to Jack who’s inviting her over as a thank you gift, right? 

After the game, that’s when she starts getting nervous. She edits the photos she needs to, sends them to Josh, the guy in charge of Devils media, and then lingers. She drove here, but she doesn’t wanna beat Jack to his place. She starts drumming her fingers against her desk, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. She knows he also got tagged for doing media tonight too, which explains why he’s taking a bit longer. 

“Hey.”

She practically jumps out of her seat, putting her hand over her heart. “Jesus, Jack.”

“Jumpy,” he comments with a smirk before leaning against the door frame. “You good to go?”

“Yeah. Was just waiting for you.”

He grimaces. “Yeah. I should’ve given you my keys so you could chill at mine instead of here. Sorry.”

She stands up, gathering her things. “It’s fine. Can you send me your address again? I think I know where it is but I wanna make sure.”

They walk out together. People are milling about but no one questions anything. Amelie doesn’t know how she feels about that. Her phone buzzes, indicating Jack texted her his address. She’s parked on the other side of the garage but he walks her to her car anyways with a shrug, but it means a lot to her. She follows him easily to his apartment, the GPS guiding her along the way and when she parks right next to him, he somehow beats her to her own door and opens it for her. 

“Thanks,” she says quietly, getting her overnight backpack from her backseat. “Do you mind if I bring my camera bag into yours? I don’t want them to get cold or-”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he grins, tie thrown over his shoulder and dress shirt wrinkled. He looks so handsome. “You’re not you without your cameras. You want me to grab something?”

“I’m good, thanks,” she says, locking her car. “Good game.”

“You think?”

“You got two assists and a few shot good attempts at goal,” she says with a furrowed eyebrow. “I’d consider that good, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just, I didn’t think you paid attention that much.”

She nudges his hip with hers as the elevator pings for each floor. “It’s kinda part of my job.”

“Is it?” He shoots back. She just rolls her eyes. “Have you eaten yet?” He asks. 

“A bit. Have you?”

“A bit,” he echoes. “I was gonna roast some veggies and make some rice. I think I have leftover chicken. Unless you want something else? Clee probably has a bunch of stuff in the fridge that we-”

“That sounds perfect,” she interrupts him. “I’m good with anything. Promise.” She waits for him to unlock his front door. “Do you mind if I jump in the shower first?”

“Not at all,” he swings upon the door. “You can just leave your stuff in the living room. Bathroom is the second door down the hall to the right.”

She quickly rummages through to grab her toiletry bag and her pajamas. “Do you have a towel I could borrow, by chance?”

“Of course. We have a bunch in the closet in there. Take any one you see.” She nods in thanks before heading to the bathroom. 

After towling her hair dry and tossing on an UW Madison sweater on she stole at some point from Colette ages ago, she pads out. Jack’s in the kitchen, back towards her, humming as he squats to check on the veggies in the oven. He’s changed out of his suit and has a Devils sweatshirt on now with gray sweatpants. His hair is damp from the shower he must’ve taken at the rink. 

He catches her staring, but to her gratitude, doesn’t say anything. She lifts up the bottle of wine she got from her bag. “I don’t know if you’re allowed to have this during the season but…”

“One glass won’t hurt,” he grins. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“You invited me into your home,” she comes over to the kitchen and takes the bottle opener from his hands. “I’m not an animal.”

Dinner is simple, but it’s delicious, and in the last hours of the evening with dim lighting, both their voices are low. At some point, Luke comes out for a glass of water, entering and leaving in a flash with a salute. That should feel weird, but it doesn’t. The not-quite-a-couple-yet couple catch each other up on their days and lives and Amelie feels a ball of warmth in her stomach. 

It’s as if the clinking of Jack washing dishes — he literally whacked her hands when she tried to help — brings her out of her reverie. She waits until he’s done and sitting next to her again before:

“Hey Jack?”

In the middle of sipping his wine, Jack raises an eyebrow. He places his glass down and leans his elbows on the counter, giving her his full attention. “What’s up?”

She tries to stop fiddling with her hands, folding them on the counter. “Are-are you seeing anyone else?”

Silence, and then a soft, disbelieving, “What?”

Her mouth starts moving faster than her brain. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. Nor would I blame you, to be honest. I mean, I’m the one who’s been moving so slow and setting the boundaries and the pace and like, I get it. But-”

“I haven’t been seeing anyone else since we met.”

Her mouth snaps shut. “You-”

“I haven’t even been remotely interested in anyone else since I saw you and Suzie at the end of my driveway,” he says, eyes steadily staring into her, unflinchingly honest. “Even when you haven’t been sure about me. Even though you’re still not sure about me. Even when we had our argument. My feelings haven’t changed.”

Amelie suddenly feels ashamed. “Oh.”

One side of his lips quirk up. “Yeah. Have you been seeing anyone else?” Before she can control herself, she snorts. Jack pouts slightly. It’s cute. “What?”

“I barely have time to see you. In what world would I be seeing anyone else?”

“Hey,” he puts his hands up in defense. “I don’t know what you’re doing when I’m on the road.”

She shakes her head, staring down at her nails. “Nope. No one else.”

“Then that settles it.” Something flashes through his eyes and he rounds the corner, hoisting himself to sit on the counter. His leg brushes her side. “I’m sorry for not making that clear.”

“I’m sorry for being psycho and possessive.”

He tuts softly. “You’re not being either of those things.”

Her eyes glaze over, unfocused, as her mind takes her elsewhere. “It took three months for Cooper and I to officially get together because he was still dating around after our first date. Which was fine. It really didn’t bother me at the time. But-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Jack assures. “But no. There’s been no one else for me.”

She swallows, busying herself by pouring herself out a glass of water before coming to stand inbetween his legs. She leans her forehead on his chest because she doesn’t wanna look at him when she asks her next question. “How much did Ethan tell you?”

“About Cooper?”

“Yeah.”

“Enough.” She picks her head up as he lightly rubs circles on her wrist. 

“Did he tell you why we broke up?”

“Not directly,” he leans his forehead on hers momentarily. “I’d like to hear your answer to that though, if you’d be willing.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, and chokes out, “He got tired of me.”

“I’m sure he-”

“He told me, word for word, that he got tired of me. Tired of waiting. For what? I have no fucking idea.” And fuck, it’s been well over a year since she blocked his number, but she can’t recall the breakup out loud without a crack in her voice. “Apparently he’d ‘wasted’ a year of his time on a relationship that had long run its course.”

“And had it?” Jack asks gently. “Had it run its course?”

“Maybe. But it wasn’t fair to me that he didn’t even give me a chance to fix it.”

He nods stiffly, before, “Absolute jackass.”

“Definitely,” she hoists herself up on the counter to sit next to him, careful to not spill any wine. “When we broke up, it wasn’t like I didn’t see it coming. Things were kinda rough for a month or so beforehand. But I didn’t expect for it to hurt so much. I-I felt, just, really sad. Kinda betrayed. Pretty angry. I definitely didn’t think it would fuck up my perspective on relationships as much as it did.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

She almost brushes off his apology, staring unfocused into his living room. “I wish I didn’t feel this way. But when I met you, one of the first things I thought was that it wouldn’t move past the summer because what was the point? You would get tired of me eventually.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I know that sounds ridiculous and whiny and it’s not true, but it’s hard for my brain to believe that. If I wasn’t enough for Cooper when we were in school and just dealt with that schedule, what would happen between you and I with our schedules and careers? That’s ultimately why I shut you down in the summer, I think. But also, fuck, Cooper was kinda an ass.”

He cuts in with a loud snort, “Clearly.”

She whacks his shoulder lightly, before letting out a sigh. “You know, he showed up at a party I was at a week later with another girl.”

“Yeah. Ethan mentioned that.”

“Right. It was a hockey party.” She squeezes her eyes shut, as if that will erase her memory. “I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this, but I felt like I wanted to crawl out of my skin and also scream my lungs out and lock myself in the bathroom and never come out. It kinda fucking sucks seeing a guy you thought you loved and loved you suddenly just throw it all away like it meant nothing. Because if he could do that so easily, who’s to say the next one won’t?” She downs the last of her wine, sighing deeply. “I’m working on remembering that I want to be in a relationship and I deserve it, but it’s really hard. I don’t blame you if you don’t wanna stick around as I’m trying to figure it out.”

Jack hops off the counter, this time stepping between her legs. She bites her lip in anticipation as he takes her hands and intertwines them, looking her dead in the eye. “Amelie. I really, really like you. Like, I-still-get-nervous-for-a-second-before-I-see-you like you. Or, I-can’t-believe-you’re-even-giving-me-a-chance like you. I’m here. I want to be here. As long as you’ll let me hang around, I will. You don’t have to be afraid to be honest with me about where you’re at. I won’t ever hold that against you.”

“But-”

“Staying, right? Your favorite Lizzy McAlpine song?”

She tilts her head in confusion. “Yeah?”

“I listened to it.”

“Okay?”

“If you’re afraid that I’m gonna just leave when my feelings suddenly disappear, which they won’t, I’m not going to do that. I’m not Cooper, okay? I’m not gonna fuck around for a month before deciding if you mean something to me, because I know what you mean to me. And I want to be here when you’re trying to figure it out. When we’re trying to figure it out, to be honest. You think I know how to be in a relationship?” He laughs at himself. “I’m bound to fuck it up somehow, probably many times, but I’m not just gonna leave when I do. I’m sticking around. I’ll stay and figure it out with you to the point where you’ll probably find me annoying. I’m not just gonna leave when things get hard.”

“But how can you promise that?”

He shrugs with a wry and somewhat defeated smile. “I can’t, I guess. You just have to trust my word.”

And to Amelie, weirdly enough, that’s the answer she was looking for. Cooper made so many empty promises. Jack’s unabashedly unsure of everything yet isn’t leaving her in the dark. 

She squeezes his hands. “I trust you.”

His swallow is visible. “Yeah?” He rasps out.

“Yeah.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’m sorry if that hasn’t come across.”

He shrugs, planting his hands on either side of her on the counter. “Don’t be. Part of the gig, isn’t it? Earning your trust. And I’m having the best time.”

She scoffs. “It’s not annoying?”

His signature charming smile is back as he lets out a breathy laugh. “I don’t know if you really understand the effect you have on me.”

She wants to kiss him so bad. She doesn’t, nudging him away so she can hop off the counter. “You tired?”

“Aren’t I always?”

“You choose what we watch,” she says, poking his shoulder.

He brightens up. “Cuddles?”

She rolls her eyes, but opens her arms when she collapses on the couch. Jack doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist, humming in satisfaction. 

(At 1:26 a.m. Clementine walks into the living room to see the sight of both Jack and Amelie asleep on the couch, his arm securely around her waist so she doesn’t fall off, their feet both dangling off the edge. She quietly clicks off the TV, adjusts the blanket so it covers both their bodies completely and takes their empty glasses to bring to the kitchen. 

She takes a second to watch them — in a non-creepy way at all — from the dimly lit kitchen. Amelie and Jack’s chest rise and fall in unison and even when Amelie adjusts herself, Jack’s arm tightens on instinct to keep them from falling. 

Clementine smiles to herself before tiptoeing to her bedroom)

~*~*~

jack

Jack doesn’t like feeling out of his element. And when it comes to Amelie, he feels like he has no fucking clue what he’s doing, even if he fakes it well. So that’s great.

He gets to the rink, and that’s old hat. Many things have changed, but at the end of the day, it’s still hockey. Blades to the ice is a feeling as natural as walking. 

But now, knowing that some games, Amelie is more or less watching. It doesn’t distract him perse, but he definitely takes note, trying to subtly find her when he’s on the bench. It’s become a fun game for him. Sometimes, her red ribbon is easy to find. Sometimes, he thinks she’s hiding from him. 

For Jack, not putting a label has been a bit difficult, because he’s always been the kind of person who needs to categorize things in some way, more for his own brain than anything. But at the same time, it also doesn’t matter to him that they’re not official. To him, they are, and that’s how he approaches all his actions. The dating apps from his phone are long gone. When he’s not thinking about hockey, he’s thinking about her. He’s trying not to be too overbearing while also not letting Amelie even question the possibility of him not being all in. 

When he was crying in his bedroom back home in Michigan, this seemed so far out of his reach. But now Amelie’s here (her apartment is only a few miles away, even) and he’d be damn stupid if he let this go. 

He’s never been in a relationship — or whatever this is — where coordinating both their schedules has been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because not only does she understand, but their schedules overlap a good amount. A curse because her schedule is so unique covering many teams and even if he’s free, it doesn’t mean she is and vice versa. They’re only a few weeks into the season and it’s already becoming hard to find a few hours in their days to go do something. 

Everything is at her pace. He wants to be sure that she knows that he takes that seriously and he’s not going to leave or get frustrated. 

When Amelie said that she wanted to meet Clementine, Jack practically immediately darted for his phone, asking when the resident would have some free time. She’s been almost surprisingly chill about it all, not asking that much and only bringing it up if Jack brings it up first. Which, if he thinks about it more, makes complete sense to who calm, collected, older sister and beloved-by-all Clementine Sandoval is. 

So that leads them to today, grabbing brunch in Hoboken on a Sunday morning with himself, Amelie, Clementine, Luke and Nico. Jack had asked Amelie if she wanted the latter two there or not, and she said she was okay with it. Jack hopes it brings Amelie more ease to have Nico and Luke around rather than stress. 

Jack’s leg is shaking and Luke is in the backseat as they sit in the car outside Amelie’s apartment. Luke shoves Jack’s shoulder. “Dude, stop shaking your leg. You’re stressing me out.”

“Sorry,” he responds automatically. 

“You know Clemmy. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

“I know.”

“Amelie’s scared?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t know. I just want them to get along.”

“They’ll get along,” Luke says matter-of-factly. “It’s Clemmy. And it’s Amelie. And me and Cap are there. How bad could it go?”

Jack just sighs. It’s not going to go badly. It won’t. 

Honestly, it can’t. 

It’s that he’s always felt that Clementine brings out the best version of himself and she’s one of the biggest parts of his life. If there’s an inkling of this not going well, he doesn't know what he’s going to do. 

“Chill, man,” Luke says as Amelie floats through the front door. Jack is momentarily mesmerized by her maroon scarf and the white bow in her hair as she spots him, paddling over to his car. She’s about to go in the backseat, but Luke gestures to her through the window to take the front.

“Hi,” she breathes out, slipping in and shutting the door. She turns around to face Luke. “You didn’t have to leave me the front.”

“I wasn’t in the mood to hear Jack’s bitching and moaning,” Luke deadpans, a small smile peeking through as Amelie chuckles. 

Jack is about to shoot something back at his brother but then Amelie reaches over to squeeze his hand. He immediately relaxes. “Well, step on it,” Amelie jokes lightly. “We don’t wanna be late.”

“You look really nice,” Jack says, pulling out onto the road. 

“Thanks,” she responds quietly. “You do too. You too, Luke.”

“Thank you,” Luke sings. Jack isn’t looking at him but he knows that half-smile smirk thing that drives Jack bonkers is on Luke’s lips. 

“You excited?” Jack asks. 

Amelie coughs. “I’m scared as shit.” Luke snorts in the back. Amelie doesn’t even look as she whacks his knee. Jack knew he liked her for a reason. “No, I’ll be fine. I just want her to like me, that’s all.”

“She will,” Jack assures. 

They don’t talk much the rest of the ride, Amelie singing softly under her breath. He realizes that everytime they’re in a car together, Amelie has to sing, almost like she can’t control herself. It’s so endearing. 

Jack sees Clementine through the window of the restaurant in the middle of laughing at something Nico is saying. He internally rolls her eyes. They’re so gross. He flashes one last reassuring smile at Amelie before he leads them in, Luke holding the door for all three of them. 

Clementine sees the trio come in immediately and grins. “Hi Jacky.”

He narrows his eyes. “Hello.”

“Chill out,” she says. “Hey Lukey. And Amelie!” Clementine stands up, engulfing her in a hug. Jack can’t see Amelie’s face. “It’s so nice to meet you finally! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Amelie says, pulling away with a small smile. “Hi Nico.”

The captain just smiles at her warmly. “Hey Amelie.”

“Have you guys ordered yet?” Jack asks as they all sit down. 

Clementine snorts. “No. We were waiting for your slow ass.”

“I am right on time, actually,” Jack snaps back.

Clementine ignores him, turning to Amelie instead. Immediately, the older girl just launches into questions. It’s a borderline interrogation and Jack can tell Amelie is a bit thrown off but she takes it all with grace paired with the most beautiful smile. By the time they order, Clementine’s already talking about how much of a pain it is to live with him and Luke and how much she wishes she didn’t and everyones jumping at each other as Nico just sits back and laughs and Jack hopes and hopes that this isn’t too much for Amelie. He’s seen her quietly work a room full of hockey players, but this is his family. 

(When their food comes, he takes her hand underneath the table and squeezes it. Without a passing beat, she squeezes right back, as she asks Clementine about her time at Stanford)

At one point, the two women are still riffing seamlessly off each other (making fun of him, thank you very much), and Luke snorts. “Are you just going to take this? Fight back, dude.”

“Don’t,” Nico says wearily. “No point. You know this.”

Jack grunts, because Nico’s right. He rolls his eyes as Clementine shoots him a smug grin, but he feels himself soften hearing Amelie’s chuckle. 

This could be his life. This is his life. Almost all his favorite people in the same place. He doesn’t get this peace that often in New Jersey. Especially not during the season. 

Amelie fits like a puzzle piece perfectly into his life. How lucky is he?

Clementine has a night shift and apologizes for it (“I should probably nap before or else I’ll be dead on my feet”), to which all of them decide it’s a good time as any to leave. They’ve already been talking for almost two hours, which has to be a good sign, right? Jack gives Clementine a kiss on the cheek, hugs Nico and messes up Luke’s hair, staring fondly as Amelie gives Clementine, Nico and Luke parting hugs. He catches Nico’s knowing look that he’s been on the end of many times before, usually hockey related. 

As he starts the engine of his car, Amelie deeply sighs to him. Immediately, he’s alert. “You okay? Was that too much?”

She shakes her head adamantly. “No, not at all.” She must sense his worry, because she continues with a laugh. “It was actually really fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she leans her head on the window, looking towards him. “I see why you talk so highly of her. Clementine, I mean. She’s really cool.”

“Isn’t she the best?” Jack grins. 

“She mentioned her dad a few times?” Amelie prods gently. “Did something happen?”

Jack swallows. “I never told you?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Oh. I thought I did. Uh, her dad, Miguel, died back in 2015. New Year’s Day. Cancer.”

He sneaks a look at Amelie and she looks heartbroken. “I’m so sorry, Jack,” she whispers. 

He continues on. He needs her to get it. “I miss him a lot. Constantly. He was the best guy. And Clee’s just..I love her so much. And Maeve, her mom. My mom, to some degree. I don’t know where I’d be without them.”

“That must’ve been really hard, for all of you,” she says softly.

“He never got to see any of us in the NHL,” Jack says. He’s trying to stay calm, but he’s gripping the wheel really tightly. “Hell, he never even got to see us in the NTDP. Or Q and Lukey at Michigan. He should be here. He would’ve loved all of it. But yeah, that’s Miguel.”

“She’s wonderful,” Amelie says after a few moments of silence. “Even just from that lunch, it’s obvious how much you all care about each other.”

“It’s hard to describe it, to be honest,” he says. “I think some people think at first that it’s something that it’s not. I’ve never seen her as anything but a sister.”

“I’m really glad you have someone like that,” she says, sounding somewhere between happy and sad. “And I’m sure she feels the same way.”

Jack chuckles. “I don’t know if she would. Most of the time I think we annoy her more than anything.”

“Annoying is 90% of what being a sibling is,” she points out. “Char and Col and I all love each other, but we annoyed the crap out of each other growing up.”

“You miss them?”

“All the time, and I saw Col a few weeks ago.” she tucks her legs up underneath her chin. “I think missing someone or something is all a part of it. You ever miss people even though they’re metaphorically right there? Or you haven’t had enough time to miss them yet?”

He sneaks another look at her and he feels his heart beating faster.

“All the time.”

~*~*~

amelie

Amelie and Kennedy are hanging out in the kitchen area when out of the corner of the eye, she sees Jack come in. 

It’s not unusual for players to come into the kitchen area of their own practice facility. But he’s beelining right towards the trio, which has Amelie’s arm hairs sticking up. 

“Hey Jack,” Kennedy greets warmly.

He nods with a close lipped smile. “Dynamic duo. How are you both?”

Kennedy raises an eyebrow. “Dream duo?”

“That’s how Josh refers to you two.” Amelie tuts as the other two laugh. Jack turns to her with an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. “What?”

Amelie shrugs. “Nothing. Just funny that Josh even refers to us at all.”

“It’s because we brighten his day,” Kennedy smirks. “What would he do without us?”

“Without you,” Amelie corrects with a wry smile. “I’m not here everyday.”

“You’re here enough,” Kennedy shoots back. She turns to Jack, and Amelie is immediately intrigued yet scared to hear what comes out of the older girl’s mouth, always the one to stir the pot in a harmless way. “Sick goal last night.”

Jack blinks. “The one that got called back?”

“The very one.”

Amelie bursts out laughing and Jack lets out a chuckle as well. “Thanks, I think,” he says. 

“Got some cool shots of it actually, but alas.”

“Alas, indeed.” Jack then turns his attention to Amelie. She can’t help but let a smile peek out. “I don’t think I saw you last night.”

“That’s because I was in Philly. They needed someone last minute.”

Jack pouts. “But what if the Devils need you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Then they have Kenny. And numerous other talented people on call.”

He nudges her elbow. “I know. We like having you around though.”

Amelie purposefully ignores her friends / coworkers’ eyes that she can feel boring into the side of her face, choosing to instead focus directly on Jack. “Do you know who’s been looking for you all morning?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Who?”

“Emma.”

“Shit,” he curses. “For what?”

Kennedy rolls her eyes. “A Tik-Tok, probably. That’s what the kids are doing these days. You’re a kid. Shouldn’t you know?”

“You’re like, only three years older than me, Ken.” Jack protests. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“She was in the media room last night I saw her,” Amelie smirks. “Go. Before she kills you. Or us. And I don’t wanna deal with that.”

He narrows his eyes. “Fine,” he swipes the unopened gatorade on the table, to which Amelie sputters at. That was hers, thank you very much. “I’ll see you two later.”

When he’s out of eyesight, Amelie lets out a deep sigh. “Annoying ass.”

“I have to agree, and I’ve been here for years. They all are though. Except for like, Nico.”

Amelie snorts. “Well, yeah. That’s a given. Everyone loves Nico.”

“Jack is right about one thing though,” the older girl nudges Amelie’s shoulder with her own. “We miss you when you’re not here.”

She just smiles, accepting a side hug from Kennedy. It’s a pretty damn good gig she has. 

~*~*~

jack

It’s no surprise that hockey players are creatures of habit. 

Jack is starting to freak himself in his willingness to break slowly from some of his habits for Amelie. Nothing crazy. Just an extra scoop of ice cream if Amelie’s craving something sweet after a game (he’s learned that she has a really strong sweet tooth and always has candy in her bag and car) or making sure that her texts and calls can come through during his pre-game nap. 

Only seven other people have that privilege. His parents, his brothers, his sister (Clementine), his second mom (Maeve) and his captain. 

He’s always liked to stay silent and blast music on the way home from a game, win or lose. Now he’s started asking Amelie more and more to see if she wants a ride, since she doesn’t love driving and often carpools with a coworker into work. They don’t have to be talking, but letting her into his post game routine so seamlessly — especially since he and Luke don’t usually drive to the rink together that much — is something he hasn’t done for…anyone.

It’s just so easy with her. Their conversations, whether over text, phone or in-person, are never stale. She makes him laugh daily with her witty sense of humor. He always looks forward to catching a glimpse of her at the rink before a game or after a practice. He’s come to look forward to seeing her texts after a game since they’re usually a picture or two of him that she “thinks are the best ones.” Leaving on a road trip has become genuinely harder because he can’t see her for a few days. 

He finds himself wanting. Constantly. It’s a newer feeling for him. 

Sometimes, it feels scary. Especially since he hasn’t really gotten a direct answer from her yet about what she wants this to be. But they’re basically dating without the title. 

He would like an answer at some point though. But it’s not stopping him from doing all he’s doing already. Or feeling all he’s feeling already.

They’re playing the Habs at home tonight, and he’s feeling good, driving into the arena now to prepare. Last night, he had Cole over for dinner and it felt like old times. They had an optional skate this morning where most of the team was present. He likes where the team is at and he’s confident about what he needs to work on in his individual game.

Walking in, he says hi to the guys, dodges a classic slap to the head from Curtis and goes to the medical room to stretch out. As he’s stretching out his calf, he spots Josh wandering through the hallway. He makes direct eye contact with Jack and comes into the room. 

“Jack, hey.”

Jack smiles easily. “What can I do for you, Josh?”

“Have you seen Amelie? I have one of her cameras and I need to give it back to her before the game starts.”

“Uh, no.” Jack smirks slightly. He has an idea of where this might go. He’ll play. “Why would I know where she is?”

Josh blinks. “You two are always around each other.”

Jack tilts his head to the side, feigning innocence. “Are we?”

“Seems like it.”

“Well, no,” Jack grins. “I don’t know where she is.”

“You looking for me?” The two guys whip their heads to the doorway to see Amelie. She’s wearing a denim jacket over a simple black shirt., brown boots on her feet. The classic red ribbon is in her hair and Jack wants to kiss her so bad. 

But he just nods. “Just in time.”

Josh looks to Amelie. “Your camera.”

She lights up, taking it from his hands. “Oh, right. What did you think?”

“It’s sick,” Josh admits. “I might have to add it onto my list.”

“Yeah, I saved up for that baby for two years,” Amelie laughs. “Worth it though.”

“Very worth it. Thank you for letting me borrow it. See you out there,” Josh turns to salute to Jack. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Josh.” And then it’s just the two of them. “Hi. You look nice.”

“Thanks.” She bites her lip, making sure no one is coming down the hallway. “Does he know?”

Jack raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Know what?”

“About us?”

“We’re an us?”

She gives him an unamused look. “Jack.”

“I’m kidding,” he watches as she walks to where he is, looking up at her from where he’s sitting. “I don’t think so, to be honest. He’s a bit-”

“Unobservant,” Amelie concludes with a laugh. “Yeah, he’s a killer photographer. Has a great eye. But with everything else?” She lowers her voice. “Actually, I was gonna ask and I’m really sorry, but could you give me a ride home later? I rode with Kenny because she wanted to try this bagel place and and we just came straight here-”

“Of course,” Jack assures. “It’s not a problem at all. Ever.”

She snorts. “Yeah. Sure. I am out of your way, you know?”

“I love driving you home,” Jack admits fully with his chest. “I don’t mind it at all.”

“Okay, thanks,” she backs away. “I’ll see you out there?”

“As always,” he says, a smile still on his face as she walks out of his sight. 

…..

They’re in his car after the game, a comfortable silence between them sans Amelie humming along to some he’s vaguely heard before, when things change. 

“I told one of my college friends earlier today that you were my boyfriend.”

Jack almost slams on the breaks. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, he feels like he’s missing something. He looks over to her as he rolls his car to a stop in front of a light. “Is this your way of asking?”

She shrugs, but the streetlights expose the slight smile on her face. “Maybe. Is that bad?”

Despite himself, he laughs. “It’s definitely not what I expected.”

“I mean,” he thinks he hears her voice shake for the first time he’s known her as he pulls up to the front of her apartment complex, killing the engine. “We basically are anyways, aren’t we? And honestly, I-I think I’m ready. If you’re still interested.”

He wants to shake her silly because she’s being so ridiculous. He snorts. “If I’m still interested? Of course I’m still interested.”

“Good,” she breathes out. “Great. I, uh, yeah.” 

“Yeah?” He repeats softly, afraid that this bubble will pop unexpectedly when he wants to scream happily from the rooftop. “I’m yours?” 

“I’m really annoying,” she warns with a swallow. “I’m trying not to be. But I am. This is your last chance to back out. I don’t know if I know how to be a good girlfriend.”

Jack knows that’s not true and, frankly, doesn’t care. “I’m yours,” he rushes out. A firm statement this time. “However long you want me, I’m yours.” 

“Okay.” 

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Okay? Can I kiss you?” 

She pouts slightly. “Don’t one up me like that. I didn’t ask the first time.” 

He blinks before a full fledged grin takes over his face. “You remember planting one on me in your grandparents’ kitchen?” 

“I remember everything that involves you.” 

Jack lunches forward to cup her cheeks and kisses her. Amelie responds immediately. He can’t believe this is happening.

They eventually pull apart and he watches her eyes open slowly as he rubs her cheeks with his thumbs. Her light grip on his wrists is the only thing keeping him tethered. 

“Why haven’t you kissed me since we’ve been in Jersey?” She asks, tilting her head to the side. 

“Because I didn’t know if you’d want me to,” 

She visibly deflates. Jack quickly kisses her forehead lightly. He doesn’t wanna see her like that. “It’s late. I’ll let you go.” 

“Okay,” she says softly, grabbing her backpack. “Goodnight. Text me when you’re home safe.” 

And oh. Isn’t that lovely?  “Of course. Goodnight, baby.” 

The second he sees Amelie walk into her building, he dials Quinn’s number. He picks up on the fourth ring as Jack starts driving. 

“Hello?”

“Dude.”

“What?” Jack hears rustling on his older brother’s end. He presumes Quinn is lounging around on his couch, freedom present in his off day.

Jack drums his fingers on the wheel, waiting for the light. “I think I have a girlfriend.”

Silence, before Quinn lets out a quiet snort. “Amelie finally say yes?”

“Hey,” Jack protests. “You’re making it sound like I’ve been begging her, which I haven’t, because that’s a dick move.”

“So what happened?”

“She said she was catching up with one of her old friends on the phone and slipped up and called me her boyfriend then we got to talking and she was like, okay.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“And this happened, just now?”

“Literally less than a minute ago.”

Quinn chuckles. “Good on you both, dude. About time.”

“Is it supposed to feel like this?” Jack says with a swallow. “Is it too soon to feel like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like I wanna spend the rest of my life with her?”

Silence. And then a crackly, “Shit, you’re serious?” 

“Don’t be an ass,” Jack scowls. 

“I’m not trying to be,” Quinn says. “I’m just, holy shit. You really like her.” 

Jack lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Clem told me she met her the other week.” 

“Yeah.” 

“What did Amelie think?” 

“She told me Clee was great. What did Clee say?”

“I’m not saying.”

“Ass.”

“You love me,” Quinn shoots back. “So now what?”

Jack blinks, cracking his neck. “I try not to fuck it up, I guess.”

“You’re not gonna fuck it up, dude.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re not gonna fuck it up,” Quinn repeats. “I’m serious. Especially not this.”

“I’ve done it once. I could do it again.”

“But you won’t. And if you do, it won’t fall to pieces. Because you won’t let it.”

Jack takes a shaky breath. He hasn’t felt anxiety this severe since the moments before he went in for surgery earlier this year. “I’m terrified.”

“Then talk to her,” Quinn says. “I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing that, to be honest. And also, I would bet money that she’s just as, if not more, scared than you are. 

“Nah,” Jack brushes his brother off. “She’s so calm about this all compared to me.”

“Or she’s better at faking it,” Quinn points out. “She’s awesome, Jack, And you’re not so bad either. Don’t overthink it so much. Enjoy it. This is what you’ve wanted for months.”

“Yeah,” Jack responds, nodding to himself. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I know. I gotta make dinner, so I’ll call you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m perfect.”

Quinn chuckles. “Good. Congratulations, dude. She’s awesome. Can’t wait to see her when we come to play you guys.”

“Thanks, man. Love you. Talk later.”

“Love you, Jack. Bye.”

When Jack pulls into his garage, he takes a deep breath. He kills the engine, reaches for his phone and swipes through to Amelie’s texts she sent just a minute ago. 

It’s a photo of him at the faceoff dot from earlier. But it’s the text underneath that has Jack grinning uncontrollably. 

Amelie Fishel 

2830.jpeg

now you’re gonna get endless photos of yourself all the time !!

Jack Hughes

i don’t mind in the slightest 

goodnight. sleep well 

Amelie Fishel

you’re home safe!

❤️💤

see you tomorrow

~*~*~

amelie

A fun part of the job that she didn’t expect has been seeing the familiar faces around the league that she’s known before. As in, the people she overlapped with at Michigan. There’s a lot of them. 

By now, she knows who wears what number for the teams she covers. She’s not required to know the rosters of the opposing team, but she likes to pair numbers with faces and names as much as she can. It’s become a fun game for her too.

It just proves to her that this world is so incredibly small. For better or worse. 

Currently, the Devils are in the midst of their game against the Sharks and all she can think is: damn, the Sharks jerseys are pretty. 

The teal of it all is tickling the color theory part of Amelie’s brain so well. She wishes the teams she covered were more original in color. 

As Amelie’s sifting quickly through the photos she took during the second period on her new camera, she stops at a picture of two teal jerseys celebrating their goal. Number 2 and number 71. She quickly double checks on Google. Yup. She was right. Will Smith and Macklin Celebrini

Amelie’s always been good with names. Macklin’s stuck with her after working the draft. And Will’s is just so iconic. 

She checks the time. She still has 7 minutes left before the third period starts. Quickly, she connects the camera to the laptop and then the printer, printing out two copies of the same picture. She reminds herself after the game to venture towards the visitors’ locker room as soon as she can before the Sharks leave. Maybe grab Bordeleau to make it easier. Hopefully he remembers her. 

Once the buzzer sounds, she pats her pocket, making sure the two photos are there. She briefly thinks of a game plan, deciding to give it at least 15 minutes so she doesn’t interrupt the locker room. She hangs out in an alcove where she knows from prior experience that she can hear the visiting’s teams general coming and goings. In the meantime, she pulls up her laptop to edit some photos. 

As luck would have it, she sees a glimpse of Thomas and now she’s on a mission. In a brisk jog, she catches up to him and taps him on the shoulder.

He turns around and his face lights up in recognition. “Amelie? Holy shit.”

She smiles. “Hey Bords.”

“I thought I saw on Instagram that you’re working in the NHL now,” he gives her a quick hug. “That’s awesome. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Yeah. Listen, I know you guys are probably heading out pretty soon, but do you mind grabbing either Celebrini or Smith or both of them for me?” At his initial confusion, she pulls out the photos. “Thought they might want a copy.”

He nods with a small smirk. “Yeah, I’ll grab them. Be right back.” Not even a two minutes later, Thomas comes back with Macklin and Will both in tow, all back in their game day suits, though much less refined than she’s sure they were walking in. 

She puts on her professional smile, sticking her hand out. “Hi. I’m Amelie. Uh, I’m a photographer with the NHL,” she hands the rookies the photos. “I took this in the second period and I figured maybe you’d want a copy? No charge. Just keep a bit hush about that.”

Macklin takes the photos as Will looks over his shoulder. “These are sick. Thank you so much.”

“You’re so welcome.”

“How do you know Bordy?” Will asks.

“We went to college together,” she replies. 

“Michigan?” She nods. Will continues. “You must know Rutger and Shea then. And Luke. Unless you didn’t overlap?”

Amelie laughs. “Oh, I know them very well. I was Rut’s TA. He loved that.” 

“It’s beautiful there,” Macklin says. “I train there in the summers now and it’s so nice.”

Right. He trains with Jack. Go figure. “It is,” she reminisces, trying not to get too emotional about what home means to her in a literal and metaphorical sense. 

“Do you work for the Devils now?” Thomas asks. 

“Kinda,” Amelie says, redoing her hair and aimlessly retying her bow. “I cover the Devils and Flyers mainly, but Rangers and Islanders as well. I technically work with the NHL rather than a specific team.”

“Have we met?” Macklin asks with an innocent tilt of his head. 

“Maybe?” She says. “I was at the draft. So possibly in passing. And maybe if you came to Yost? I can’t remember what year BU came to play in Michigan.”

“I never did at BU,” Macklin says. “But the draft makes sense.”

She backs away. “I won’t keep you for long so-ah!” She crashes into someone and whips around to see Jack, one side of his lips quirked up. 

“Watch where you’re going,” he says with a playful tilt. 

“What are you doing here?” She shoots back.

“Josh was looking for you, actually, and I just saw you out here.”

She looks down at her feet, because deep down, she knows it’s because he was purposefully looking for her. But she doesn’t mind the vagueness, especially in front of Thomas, Macklin and Will.

Jack does some sort of bro handshake with all three of them, paired with a friendly nod. “What’s up?”

Macklin grins. “Amelie here took a picture of me and Will and wanted to give it to us.”

Jack leans over to look at the picture and lets out a small chuckle. “Yeah, that’s a keeper.”

Amelie gives a parting smile. “It was nice to meet you both, and good to see you again, Bords.”

“Thank you for the picture,” Will says sincerely. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Amelie just shrugs, accepting a quick hug from Thomas before backing away and letting Jack say his parting words. 

When he faces her directly, his back towards his fellow hockey players, in his Devils sweatshirt and his wet hair fresh from the shower, she swallows. 

He’s hers. Isn’t that great?

“Hi,” she says softly when he gets in earshot. 

“Hey,” he says. She wants to kiss him so bad. “Did you drive here today?”

“No. I carpooled with Kenny. Is she still in there?”

“I’m not sure,” he says. “How much longer you need?”

She hums, hands automatically fiddling with the camera around her neck. “Maybe 20 minutes?”

“I can drive you home.”

“You sure?” She whispers. “I don’t wanna keep you. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Being here for 20 extra won’t hurt me,” they stop before parting to different hallways. “I’ll come knock on your door in a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nods with a small smile. “See you.”

(As the three Sharks watch Jack and Amelie walk away, they all notice how Jack’s hand doesn’t quite touch Amelie’s, but it’s damn close. And their bodies are tuned to each other in a way that goes beyond mere coworkers.

Macklin blinks. “It’s none of my business, but are they-”

“Yup,” Thomas responds. “I follow her on Instagram. They’re definitely dating.”

“Huh,” Will comments. “That’s kinda cute. The sports photographer and the player. Think Grace made me watch a movie like that once.”

“She’s great,” Thomas says with a nostalgic tilt in his voice. “We were both freshmen at the same time and I just, I don’t know. It’s awesome to see where she’s ended up.”

“Did you ever predict that she and Jack-”

Thomas snorts. “No. Absolutely not. Not any hockey player, to be honest. She was just always on the quieter end and seemed way too smart for any of us, because she is. But she’s, just, so great.”

The two rookies hum, watching as the couple turns the corner out of view.)

~*~*~

amelie

They finally, finally go on that Manhattan date, on a brief break where Jack doesn’t have any games and a day that Amelie is also free. The con is that he doesn’t tell her what they’re doing, only says “trust me” and “wear something you can walk in and be warm in and is a little fancy but not too much.” 

She appreciates it, she does. And Jack elicits nothing but comfort and ease, especially since their conversation a week and a half ago. So she is trying to be at ease with the lack of knowing the plans. But by the time Jack knocks on her door a little bit after 2 p.m., she’s been dressed for over an hour, pacing around for almost the same amount of time. 

She whips open the door and smiles, momentarily taken aback. “Hi.”

He laughs a bit, eyes sparkling. He has a canvas jacket tossed over a plain black t-shirt and black jeans. He looks clean and fresh and so cute. “Hi. Ready to go?”

“Mmhm.”

He waits for her to grab her bag and jacket, before interlacing their fingers and kissing their locked hands. “You look pretty.” 

She tucks herself into his side, feeling giddy. “Thanks. You’re sweet.”

“I’m glad we’re finally able to do this.”

“I am too, but I think you’re a bit crazy for wanting to drive into the city.”

Jack shrugs. “It’s not too bad. Nico does it all the time with Clee. I’ve picked her up from the hospital before. As long as you don’t mind possible traffic. Besides, want you to be comfortable.”

She just looks at him, marveling at how much he really likes her. She wishes she was used to this feeling. Not wanting to dwell outwardly on that right now, she changes the subject. “What are we doing?” 

“What do you mean? You know what we’re doing.” 

“I know that you asked me if I knew of any places to eat in the city for a late lunch or dessert,” she deadpans as they get into his car. “I know you have more up your sleeve.” 

He grins. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”

“Jack-”

His hand rests on her thigh and he squeezes lightly. “Hey. I got it, okay? Just worry about having a good time.”

She sinks back into her seat, shooting him a glare. He laughs and she softens. “Fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound snippy.”

“No need to be sorry,” he responds easily. “How was your day yesterday?”

They talk the whole time it takes for them to get into Manhattan. As always, Amelie’s on the aux. She hasn’t told Jack yet, but she’s started making a playlist of songs that she’s played that he’s noted that he likes or seems to bop his head to. Jack parks in a garage attached to a hotel in Soho, right by the sushi place that Amelie suggested per Colette. (“You’ve met my brothers. When do I get to meet your sisters?” Jack had joked. And the thought of that didn’t terrify Amelie as much as she thought it would.”) He doesn’t even give her the chance when the check comes, snatching it away despite Amelie very much verbally disagreeing. 

He waves her off, as he signs. “Amelie. No. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m getting the next one,” she says adamantly. 

“We’ll see,” he says. 

“Jack.”

“We’ll see,” he repeats with a smirk. “Ready to go?”

She grabs her bag and jacket. “To where, exactly?”

“You’ll see. We’re hopping on the train.”

She lets him lead, even leaning her forehead against his chest on the train when it’s packed. They ride mostly in silence as she takes in the city. This isn’t even close to her first time in Manhattan, but it’s always a bit overwhelming. Jack’s steady presence calms her down, especially when the train jolts and he automatically steadies her. 

When they get off at the 42nd Street station, Amelie has an inkling she knows where this is heading. She gives Jack a look, but he just holds her hand firmly in his as they exit the busy station. 

“Are you taking me to a show?”

He turns from where he was walking slightly in front of her with a smile. “Busted.”

She feels her heart dropping down to her feet. “Jack.”

“Well, hold on,” he jokes. “You don’t know what show yet.” She’s still in a daze, because she’s maybe only mentioned in passing how much she loves Broadway and musical theater and she’s trying to wrap her head around the fact that he remembered enough to incorporate into their first date. Tickets aren’t cheap, especially with-

“Jack,” she says as they glide to a stop in front of Richard Rodgers Theater. “No. You didn’t.”

He grins, exaggeratedly gesturing at the “Hamilton” billboard. “I did. I don’t know much about Broadway, but even I know Hamilton is supposed to be a great show.” Amelie’s so incredibly touched as she continues staring at Jack in disbelief. People are walking by them in a blur and all she can focus on is his smile, that slowly turns unsure the longer she stays silent. “I also did reach out to Charlotte on Instagram after I saw she followed me and asked if you would like this.”

That’s a loaded sentence. “Y-you asked my sister?” She sputters out. 

“Well, yeah,” Jack shrugs sheepishly. “I wanted to make sure it was a good idea.”

“This is too much,” she finally chokes out.

“But in a good way?”

“I-I’ve always dreamed of seeing Hamilton live.”

“Dope,” he holds out his hand with an easy smile. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

She looks at him, takes a deep breath and intertwines their hands. 

[ma1dita]

ready your position

part 1 of 5 - SET IT UP!

spencer reid x gn!HRT!reader

summary: [3x9: Penelope] Sometimes second chances feel like shots in the dark. You just really wanted a cup of coffee. (set between seasons 3 & 4, loosely based off of set it up on netflix--reader is nicknamed ripley)

wc: 6k

content warning: signs of substance abuse, reader gets shot, side character death, unhealthy coping mechanisms & thinking

a/n: so sorry for the delay! i had a lot of insecurities about putting this out but well, here it is! lots of plot set up but pt 2 won’t take as long haha, please please please leave feedback or i might cry lol

—

[NOVEMBER 2007]

"So what are you in for today?"

A scoff leaves your lips in the dim light of one of the HR offices in the Employee Assistance Unit on the 6th floor of Quantico on a dreary Monday evening and it's intentionally disruptive, like you want the terse breath to catch your therapist off-guard. This routine of yours has you feeling like you're being examined under a magnifying glass but after countless hours of your ass getting pins and needles on the worn leather loveseat, you're still not entirely sure what else there is for Ms. Stevens to discover. Every psychological stone is never left unturned with her, but some burdens you still hold close to your heart. They feel like boulders that you choose to carry, and no one can take them away, lest you leave yourself exposed and vulnerable in front of a woman who can read you to filth.

"Agent?"

"Come on now, we're past the formalities, Miss. S'been more than half a year of us meeting like this. Think I deserve a reward at this point," the joke chokes itself out past your chewed bottom lip. Eyes scanning the ceiling, you mentally count the tiles until you can find a plausible enough answer to the question she's positively dying to ask about the monumental blow-up that could make or break your career, and maybe if you skate by with something noncommittal she'll let you out of here early. 30 salt and pepper sprinkled ceiling tiles, just like this time last week.

"Ripley, then," Ms. Stevens murmurs over a sip of her tea. The smell of ginger pierces your senses even from your spot against the wall. Your eyes meet over her FBI standard-issue mug and she's waiting for you to fill the silence and confirm her thoughts. You hate this game; being hyper-analyzed by the way you lean against the chair, or the tapping of your fingers on your thigh. 

Every move means something. Being a member of the FBI's Hostage and Rescue Team meant that you've been hardwired to always find a way out of any space you're put into, and somehow the job has translated into your day-to-day coping mechanisms as your eyes flicker towards the door.

Coping. Right. That's what you're supposed to be doing.

Sometimes you forget the reason why you're here every week— but no matter how painful or teeth-grating these appointments feel, they're the only constant you have right now. And they're mandatory, or else there's no going back to normal; any more time sitting at a desk makes you more anxious even if it's what's been prescribed by professionals like the one sitting across from you.

"You already know why I'm here. I know the big boss man already told you, and if not—office gossip spreads here like wildfire," you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. Ms. Stevens takes note of that and writes something down in her notepad. "It's not what you think."

"You shot an unsub point blank and cost the FBI $4000 in damages."

Chuckling lowly, you run your hand through your hair, "Sheesh. You'd think for glass that expensive it'd be bulletproof, huh?" She's not laughing though, instead scribbling down more words and you think she's signing away your rights to rejoin your team. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal— you were just at the right place at the right time, and although you haven't been in rotation since your mandatory leave and the higher-ups put authorization holds to stop you from being on operations, that didn't mean you were just sitting around doing nothing. You still knew how to do your job, whether Ms. Stevens believed it or not. The shot you took made the weekly newsletter. Agent Fuchs and his family sent you a fruit basket this morning. Agents Hotchner and Rossi know your name now, for better or for worse. 

It was a bit of an odd way to end the weekend.

If anything, it was proof that you were ready to get back in action. But the subtle frown on her face says otherwise, and you swallow harshly, a lump in your throat feeling heavy like the truth— Ms. Stevens probably won't let this one go.

You realize she's staring at you for a better answer now as your eyes refocus on her fingers tapping on her desk. Nodding your head, it prompts her to ask the question that she's been holding back since you sat down. One could almost feel bad for the amount of paperwork that probably goes into your weekly sessions. 

Almost.

"How did you find yourself involved with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Ripley?" she emphasizes, finally getting to the point. Sucking air through your teeth, you tuck your legs underneath your bottom on the uncomfortable seat. This is going to take a while to explain.

"I just wanted a cup of coffee, man."

—

A WEEK AGO

No one can deny that Dr. Spencer Reid's best asset is his brain. 

He knows it too— the fact is one of the few things he's sure about himself. Other people are much easier to figure out to be honest; case details scrolling through his brain like a frenzied catalog and each input has an output, each symptom with a diagnosis, and so on. The neocortex of the brain has about 300 million pattern recognizers that crave data able to turn into patterns or rules, and Spencer is used to staying late after cases conclude to write down all of the reasons why. Something about unraveling the unsub's methodology in case files is just as exciting to him as when he's in the field figuring out the why—mind the fact that he can read 20,000 words a minute. 

In his periphery, he can see the rest of the team settling into their desk chairs, but he's traipsed straight over to the office kitchenette for something to fuel his brain to be able to mince through the stack of paperwork on his desk. He's ignoring the fact that Emily slips a few more onto his pile, but what he can't ignore as he stands over the counter stirring in way more sugar into his cup than there is coffee, is you, walking through the glass doors virtually undetected by anyone but him.

The metal of his teaspoon clinks against his mug, and a side glance at your form reveals a lot to him— but not quite as much as he would like to know about a person at first glance. Stiffness in your posture indicates some sort of military background, there's a slight tremor in your hands as you reach for the mug on the top shelf—probably attributed to nerves? Most likely since he's never seen you on this floor before. You blink slower than average, and Spencer thinks it's a sign of exhaustion which checks out since you're blatantly stealing coffee from the BAU.

Sending a soft smile his way, Spencer quickly eases up and nods at you, sipping his coffee as he watches you move about the small space. Okay, stealing is a vast over-exaggeration, but in an office filled with FBI agents, it's a wonder that he's the only one noticing these types of things. He's also staring at you very intently, which might affect things.

That or the caffeine's already hit him like a punch in the face. 

You're pouring some of Penelope's homemade oat milk creamer and he observes the way you play with a fray on your knit sweater. There's something that clinks in your jean pocket and it's too small to be a gun, too big to be—oh! You're saying something to him.

"You mind?"

Spencer clears his throat, ripping his eyes away from your crotch as a blush rises upon his cheeks—shaking his head anyway until he realizes that you've taken the spoon out of his hand to swirl into your own mug, sipping at it and frowning.

"You're not from this floor," he states, and it's not a question because it's rare to have people break patterns around here at the BAU and you're far too comfortable to be a civilian but still on edge enough for him to think you must be an agent. Humming, he notes the furrow in your brow as you grab the sugar canister from in front of him, stirring in your preferred amount and tasting it, then adding more again, "Yeah?"

"There are 12 desks in here; 2 executive offices not including our section chief's, liaison's, and higher admin surrounding the bullpen, plus 6 members of custodial staff and the auxiliary agents that run in from different departments—I would know a face like yours," he blurts, blinking when you grin at how that sounds. Dismissing his blunder, you lean back against the counter and chuckle, "You're protective of your turf. I get it. That's good. I'm just here for a cup of coffee. Smelled the good stuff wafting through the glass doors," Handing him back the spoon, he can't help but stand there and hold it out like an idiot as you continue, "You want my credentials or something…. Doctor?"

"No, not at—" "Ah, perfect!"

Rossi grabs the mug out of your hand and takes a big swig as he looks at something on his phone distractedly, "Anderson was supposed to have a cup ready for me as soon as we got back… Why is this uh….watery?"

"Oat milk, sir," you say, taking it in stride as the older man crinkles his nose, mumbling his thanks, walking back to his office. Your eyes meet Spencer's with an amused expression and he sighs. The watch on your wrist beeps and you give him a two-fingered salute as you make your way out of the glass doors behind you eastbound; his gaze doesn't break until you're out of sight.

A hand claps him on the shoulder and it's Morgan with that look he gets when he sees the resident pretty boy with a person of interest (also known as when Spencer is caught talking to anyone, ever), "Now who…" he chuckles, squeezing him so hard that his drink spills a little bit, "was that?"

Spencer blinks, pouring more sugar into his mug and stirring it with the spoon, "Definitely not a secretary like Rossi thinks…." He takes a sip before realizing he's made a mistake. Besides the fact the mug he drank from is contaminated now, he's forgotten to ask for your name.

"At least that's what I'm trying to figure out."

—

It has been exactly 8 and a half months since you've been an active operator for the HRT's Red team. 37 weeks of trying to come to terms that Special Agent Charlie Young is dead. 258 days since your childhood best friend Harper was made a widow and her baby left without a father. And no matter what way you put it, it was your fault. Or at least no matter what everyone's been trying to tell you, it still felt that way since he took a bullet that was meant for you.

You spent your 6 months of paid mandatory leave in the confines of your apartment nursing bottles of Jameson, watching old telenovelas, and avoiding phone calls from anyone who would try to reach out. But in the space that Charlie's absence left behind is the reality that everything in life keeps moving on whether you like it or not. You caught yourself craving your old routine to prove to yourself that nothing's changed; that you're still capable of being the elite agent that worked your way onto this prestigious team in the first place.

So as you lie in wait in an unmarked car outside of 107 Leavensworth, you plan to do just that—follow through with the mission, this second chance—and prove that nothing can shake you. The next operations cycle starts soon and you have to make this count. Your eyes lock with Agent Morgan's as he crosses the road arm in arm with Penelope. Nodding at him, you slink further into your seat. There's a long night ahead, but hopefully, the only thing that will be bothering you tonight is your thoughts.

When they pass the courtyard, your eyes flicker back towards the empty street, checking every which way for possible suspects. It's quiet, and the air is a bit chilly, the wind sweeping through the street like a frosty vacuum. Your phone buzzes with another text from Harper, a voicemail from your mother, and unread emails.

[From Harpy: Have an extra table setting out for Thanksgiving. Your two favorite girls would love to see you if you can make it! Miss you Rip.]

[Missed call from Mama: Hi honey, I know you're probably busy but I'm worried about if you're eating enough. You're overw—]

The sounds of footfalls on pavement draw your attention away from the voicemail as a man comes near, swiftly passing the direction of your car with the purpose of walking into the apartment courtyard. You slide out with ease, throwing your phone to the passenger seat before making your presence known to him, "Can I help you with something? What’s your bus—"

BANG!

Gunshots are so much louder when you're the one being shot at. 

You swear you feel your heart stop beating as your body hits the ground, ears ringing from the shock that ravages your being and you just…lay there in the smoke of his revolver. The spinning view you have of the stars is interrupted by the sound of Derek Morgan's voice yelling into your walkie, "WE HAVE A FEDERAL AGENT DOWN, I REPE—"

You swallow hard, fingers sliding over the breastplate of your bulletproof vest and feeling the gaping hole left behind.

Fuck, can't even die right. 

Pushing yourself up and feeling nothing but the gravel in your palms, you wheeze, "He's getting away…Two blocks northbound. GO!" The man tweaks his head at you before springing into action, "I got her, GO!" And then his body moves as fast as you suppose that bullet did— surging towards the assailant's direction as you clear your throat and dust yourself off and look up at Penelope's window, her beaded curtains shuffling against the glass.

"Disregard. 10-78, Agent Morgan is pursuing, I have eyes on the vic…"

Rushing up the stairs, there's a tremor in your hand that slides along the banister. You need to push through the shock before the adrenaline wears off, but the faster you fly up the circular staircase, the memories hit you like a tidal wave. The sound of Charlie singing to his baby girl, Harper's smile when you first introduced them at the Academy a few years ago. Lactic acid builds up in your calves and your chest feels tight—your joints feel stiff as you stumble through the door blowing air out in puffs like someone does when they get burned. In the dark of the apartment, moonlight shrouds you like a spotlight and the singing and the laughter turn into blood and tears.

You'll never forget the way Harper looked at you in that hospital waiting room. It should've been you. Weaving through the fallen furniture, your eyes scan the perimeter for any movement; she was last near the window, and then where did she go? It should've been you. Turning the corner towards the alcove of her bedroom, Penelope Garcia's scream pierces through the darkness, and a gun is pointed towards your chest for the second time tonight as you stumble back, bumping a sparkly cat statue off her side table. It should have been you.

"Don't s-shoot!" you stutter, hands in the air and now the colorful woman is sobbing into your arms, blubbering, "Why is this happening to me?"

"I don't know…" you sigh, asking yourself the same question and holding her up—at least her hug is tight enough that it squeezes the truth out of you. You don't want to die. 

But why didn't you?

Your second chance at fixing things was looking more and more like a second shot in the dark.

—

By the time Spencer and the rest of the team show up, he's pleasantly surprised to see you making coffee in Garcia's kitchen. You're a shadowy figure against her counter, sipping honey tea from a TARDIS mug and minding your business. The BAU has staged themselves across every open seat in her living room, almost looking like a part of the bits and bobs that occupy the space—different personalities contributing to help out one of their own. 

Hotch looks at you, introducing you to them and Spencer holds back a smile when your eyes meet again. It's awkward, like when the teacher introduces a new student to the class. You shuffle your feet towards the group, nodding and biting your lip when you hear your name, "Call me Ripley. S'easier that way. I'm on loan from HRT."

"Glad you were available. The rest of your team was deployed," his boss says, and there's something in your expression that signals to Spencer that you're upset about that fact. Maybe it's the way your hands graze over your abdomen repeatedly, like checking for a wound or the way your eyes are consistently downcast. Even after your empty mug is placed onto a sage green doily, he watches you clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest as if blocking yourself off from the group. 

"It was a favor from Otis. My night was going to look like this or catching up on Days of Our Lives, so… Anyway, you guys are held in high regard in our area. For good reason."

"And so are you," Hotch actually smiles, soft enough like a father softens a blow, "Head back to the office and I'll tell Agent Otis that you did a great job."

"Um…Ripley can stay. We're friends now," the bubbly analyst says as she pushes her glasses up and grabs your arm.

"I don't want to intrude on your process—" "You won't be intruding at all," Spencer interrupts, "In fact, you might be more of an asset in helping us figure this out."

The pieces fall together as you watch the BAU work together like different organs that make up the same body, each with its own function and essential to their success. You take a seat next to him on the sofa, your eyes ricocheting off of the person who speaks like ping-pong balls and he knows it's overwhelming to some, but it works. 

"I told you I'm tired of this jag-off getting ahead of us," Rossi grits as he walks out of the apartment after grilling Garcia. There's an awkward silence once the team splits off and you don't move from your spot after the door closes, "He always like that? Looks friendlier in his author's headshot." Emily chuckles, hair brushing Garcia's shoulder as she leans over her laptop, and Morgan is pacing across the hardwood floors, fingers touching every little trinket to distract himself while his Babygirl works her magic.

"He's newer to the idea of a team."

Spencer has a heart-shaped throw pillow on his lap and he absent-mindedly plays with the sequins. He watches you chew on your lip before nodding, "Can imagine what that change feels like. Never easy. You guys are something else though—my Reds could never…get together like this."

"Isn't that the whole premise of the Hostage and Rescue Team? To be part of something?" The raven-haired woman pipes up, looking curiously at you. 

"Well, really it's to s—"

"Servare vitas—that's Latin for the HRT's motto 'to save lives'," Spencer hums, and you nod. There's a distant look in your eyes as you look off towards the window before speaking, "We just follow orders, I guess. In and out. It's funny how we're called operators when in reality we're the ones being ordered around." Your voice is wistful, going hoarse and you clear your throat. 

"Anyways, didn't Agent Rossi have three wives or something? Maybe he just needs to focus on finding a fourth."

The subject change lifts the tension that fills the room, everyone having a bit of a laugh at that. Morgan admires a blown glass ornament from Garcia's mantle before he moves his gaze to you, "He got it wrong three times, you think he'll find someone to lock it down for a fourth?"

"Actually, did you know that studies have found that the rate of divorce in the US is about 35% to 50% for first-time marriages and over 60% to 70% for second, third, or fourth marriages and beyond?"

No one moves a muscle at the statistic that spews out of his mouth like something from a well-oiled machine and you turn to him, full attention and tucking your legs underneath you with eyes full of wonder. He doesn't remember the last time someone's ever looked at him with anything other than mild unease.

"Really?"

"Really," he continues, "so even if you knew someone who could…" "Match his freak?" You suggest, interrupting him this time, and your choice of words makes Garcia giggle over the chatter of her keyboard, "I knew you were a cool cat."

He doesn't quite know what to say to that, always fumbling for words in front of attractive people, making Morgan send him a sidelong glance. Spencer goes back to playing with the sequined pillow instead.

"I got someone like that too. Hard to prove yourself when they don't give you a chance. It's like credentials, seniority, all that training goes out the window when I'm in front of them."

"Your boss?" Spencer mumbles, and you shrug, "Something like that." You sound like you don't want to share more, so he nods, saving your words for him to scroll through in his mind later, "He's definitely not Gideon." 

'Who's Gideon?" You ask, finishing off your cup of tea and leaning against the back of the sofa. It's comfy enough that all of your limbs sink in slightly, and he watches your eyes flutter with fatigue. Spencer tries not to get distracted by the way your eyes sparkle in the twinkly lights that hang from the walls of Garcia's apartment.

"He was…before. Before Rossi. Taught me everything I know."

"Must've been a good guy then, if you're this good at your job," you smile. It's the same smile you sent his way in the office kitchenette, soft yet like a shockwave, and he thinks that even without his eidetic memory, he'd remember your words forever.

"Mhm…" you muse, putting the cover of the TARDIS mug back where it belongs and standing up, "I should get back to the office. It was nice meeting you all, despite the circumstances." You nod at them, passing Garcia and patting her head before humming a tune on your way out.

"Ripley's kinda great, huh?"

Spencer nods, a small smile gracing his features. When he looks up, Garcia's staring right at him. Only the two of them recognize the Doctor Who theme song, after all.

—

You desperately need a drink.

You're sitting on Anderson's desk staring at the mess you've made of the BAU's bullpen, shattered glass sparkling like little fractals of light on the floor beneath your feet and this night just got longer. By the time they process your gun and get your official statement it'll be sunrise, you think. You can't look at the body even after they cover it with a tarp, the rest of the team tiptoeing through the debris in the entryway. This one's gonna be tough to explain to your superiors.

"Ripley!"

Penelope Garcia is rushing over to you and hanging off your side in a second, making the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach go away for a moment with her eyes shining like tinsel on Christmas morning and the guilt feels a bit lighter. You did a good thing. Then why…why won't your hands stop shaking?

"I never wanted you to do something like that for me," she starts, rubbing your arms and looking up into your eyes, "Do you hear me? Ripley."

You didn't even blink when you shot him, and you don't know if anyone would consider that the best or worst part of it all. Shrugging and placing your cheek against the hand that remains on your shoulder, you purse your lips, "I hear ya. I'll be okay now that you're gonna be okay," You sniff, blinking slowly as you watch your boss walk in, exchanging words with Fuchs and Hotch. "'Sides. We're friends now. You do what you have to when protecting your own." Your voice shakes a bit as you trail off, torn between the grateful smile on Garcia's face and the unreadable expression on your boss'.

"I had some time earlier, during everything going on—I work quick you know? And I do little crafts when I get stressed, so…" You feel a familiar piece of clothing being pressed into your hands, and it's your jacket. You didn't even realize you left it at her apartment, ripping it off after getting shot. A small embroidered pink flower now occupies the space where the bullet hole was. She giggles, squeezing your hand as you run it over her handiwork, "Sorry I only had pink thread."

"Pretty. Even better like this. You're a genius, you know that?"

The look on her face reminds you of a little kid who gets told their drawing is a work of art, but you revel in it. Despite the fact you might lose your job for insubordination, or whatever else Ms. Stevens can tack on—Otis is still looking at you from across the room, a talk imminent for your behavior. The HRT is risk intolerant, and though you saved a life today, you took someone else's.

"I read through your file."

Your eyes rip back and meet Penelope's as she stares at you hard through her glasses, "Uh…"

"Don't worry, just me. I just… get it now. The way you walked into my apartment earlier and you couldn't catch your breath, why you're the only Red left behind. I mean I'm like that after any type of cardio, and totally get it too, I…" she stops herself, and grabs your hands, "I get it. I've been there. I just want you to know I'm here if you want to talk, without the dark office and psych evaluation."

"You sure you're not a profiler?" you say simply, smirking. She laughs more freely than she has in days, patting your cheek, "Ripley, if I was, I wouldn't have been able to pass along your reinstatement papers. Your boss will see that soon enough. Again, thank you." 

You can't do anything but laugh—any type of unease lifting from your system before you catch a certain spectacled analyst staring at your new friend, and you nudge her, "You know, with all the heat I'm getting right now—No one's looking at me like that." Garcia grins, looking over her shoulder and then back to you.

"Do you believe everything happens for a reason?"

As you watch her saunter over and talk to the guy, you start to believe it too. 

A steaming cup of coffee is placed next to your thigh and you look over to see Spencer leaning against the other edge of the desk watching you.

"Just the way you like it."

You beam at him, leaning over to gulp the scorching liquid. The steam spreads in the short distance between you as you cock your head at him, "You remembered!"

He shrugs like it's nothing of the sort, the small gesture warming you just as much as the coffee does as it travels to your stomach. 

"Do you know how hard it's been to get a cup of coffee around here?"

And then the two of you are giggling like schoolchildren, hiding behind furtive glances and shaking hands like there isn't a dead body covered by a tarp 10 feet away from where you sit. He nervously scratches at the pit of his elbow, unsure of what to say next but the moment is broken when Otis and Hotch walk over, effectively silencing your laughter. Spencer walks away quickly.

"Listen…"

Your boss sighs, rubbing at his bald head as he looks at you, "Let me guess, I'm not gonna believe what happened?" Hotch raises his eyebrows, "So you weren't kidding, Otis. That's why this agent goes by Ripley."

"You always have a way of doing things your own way, Rip."

Grimacing, your hands tighten around the mug as you look at your superior in the eye, "I followed orders and saved a life today. The rest.. was just because I really was trying to get a cup of coffee," The two men stare at you curiously, almost forming a blockade around your position on the desk, "Penelope adds vanilla and cinnamon to her oat milk." Otis looks unconvinced, still not blinking. 

"I'm serious! It's delicious!"

Otis pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away. As he goes, he calls out, "You're back on for the next cycle." You spring up almost as if electrocuted, "Seriously? Can't take that back!"

"Don't do anything to make me want to," your boss says when he gets to the entryway, sweeping glass with the sole of his shoe, "No more surprises. I mean it, Ripley. Keep it up."

"Congratulations are in order then," Hotch says, shaking your hand, "I'll get the detective over to speed up your clearance. We all need a good night's rest."

"Thank you, sir."

Nothing can take away the elation that runs through your veins—like being brought back from the dead. You did what you set out to do, you made your second chance count and now you're an operator again. The type that saves lives and is in action instead of just filing paperwork and watching day go to night without feeling fulfilled. Excitement blurs your senses, your knee hopping up and down and it's not the coffee but the feeling of being useful again after all this—

"And Agent?"

"Sir?" you blurt out, looking up at Hotch, face falling at his next words, "I'm sorry for your loss. Agent Young would be proud of you." You smile at him and the emptiness sets back in when he turns away, immediately taking a big gulp of your drink as the muscle memory sinks in. 

It's not his fault of course. But how foolish of you to forget why it all happened in the first place. Your quest for redemption and who you've lost on the way here. Would Charlie be proud? Looking around the room for prying eyes, you twist off the cap of the flask that sits in your pocket with nimble fingers, slipping it into your long sleeve and pouring the contents into your mug until it's empty. As you take a sip, your eyes meet Spencer's over the brim and your heart lodges itself in your throat as you try to wash it all down. He nods anyway, scratching the nape of his neck and averting his eyes as he comes back to sit next to you.

"It all makes sense now."

The whiskey acts as a security blanket, protecting your feelings from what he might say next. It'd be better to pretend to not care what the doctor thinks of you, but when his shoulder nudges yours, you realize you do.

"Hmm?"

"Ripley. Did you know Robert Ripley originally titled his sports feature Champs or Chumps when it premiered in the New York Globe in 1918?" Spencer says like he didn't just catch you in the act. 

"You don't have to do this, y'know," you sigh, your mouth wavering over the now-cold beverage. Being patronized over your alcoholism might just send you into a bender if we're being honest, but then he scratches at his elbow again, sleeve rolling up slightly—and then you see the dots along his skin. Faint traces of fights neither of you bring to the surface go unspoken and for the first time in a year, someone sees you—vices and all and doesn’t recoil. There’s a wave that passes between you, hidden from the people that scatter the room and you can feel something crash over you in his presence. You think you might like it, even possibly sure of it when he speaks again.

"Why not? Obscure facts are right up my alley."

The sun rises on Quantico in the big windows behind you, framing everything in a new light.

—

"So are you?"

You blink slowly, torn from the reverie. It's been almost an hour of piecing together the parts you want to tell Ms. Stevens about how last night led to getting reinstated and earning your spot back on your team. The rest…you left out to not overcomplicate the situation. Come on… everyone lies to their therapist even a little bit.

"Hmm?"

She looks at you intently from a sentence she scribbles onto her notepad, "Are you ready to go back to work?"

Glancing at the ceiling, and then to the placard on her desk, Kirsten Stevens, EAC in blocky white font—you put your thoughts into words, "I mean even if I wasn't, I have to. This is my job. I have to do it well."

"But are you ready? Do you feel… able to do it well?"

Your eyebrows furrow, "I feel like you think I'm not—even if I've already proven I can." Ms. Stevens sighs, pulling her hair back into her claw clip and clasping her fingers together. Disappointment reeks from her stare, and you can't get to the bottom of why this woman seems like she's out to get you. You do the training, you perform well on the job, what else is there to worry about? The timer beeps, signaling the end of your session and you push off your knees, getting up from the couch. Your joints creak, frowning as you're still waiting for her to say something.

"Ripley. No one's saying you can't do your job well. What I am saying is, that until you admit to yourself that something's wrong…that feeling won't go away. You can't just run from your past," she says calmly. It's almost irritating, and a part of you wishes she'd yell at you instead. 

"I'm not running. I'm facing it head-on by doing what he would want me to do. Charlie would want me to get back to normal and be back at work." 

And she nods at you, turning back to her notepad and handing you a sheet detailing the inner work you have to do before your next appointment, "I can agree with that. We'll move you to every two weeks now since you're heading back to work. I hope to hear from you about any new updates…" Ms. Stevens says, continuing but the rest you don't listen to. She didn't even mention Charlie and he's all everything comes back to. If this is the help she’s prescribing, why does it still feel like you’re drowning?

You walk out of her office with the paper in your clenched fist and your phone in the other as you shoot a text to Penelope.

[To PG: Hey, I hope you're feeling better! Can you send me Dr. Reid's number? I need to ask him something. Also, Rossi's definitely single right? Asking for a friend (not me).]

—

"Let's say you've swallowed a bad thing and now it's got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure." - Richard Siken

[ask to be added to taglist]

[nordiccowgirl]

A small thing from the Sonic trailer that I love is how Shadow fights. This is something that I've REALLY started focusing on since Sonic Prime, so I'm going to try to talk about it like I'm not just losing my mind lol.

I noticed in Sonic Prime that they put effort into making Shadow and Sonic look different while fighting. It honestly took until I wrote this whole essay that I never published about Shadow's air shoes and how he clearly uses them to boost his strength - hence why his most well known fighting move in the roundhouse kick. With the air shoes behind it and his natural, unnatural strength, the roundhouse kick would/should KO basically every standard enemy he would come across.

Shadow is a very physical fighter in Sonic Prime.

Yeah, Sonic uses force when destroying robots and things, too, but he clearly relies on his speed and spindash more to propel him through enemies rather than just obliterate them. I noticed this a lot in Sonic Prime and I LOVED it.

I love this move to differentiate them more - I don't think they've really done that in the games since Shadow the Hedgehog (2006) tbh and it was definitely a bummer to get through the Shadow levels in Sonic Forces and basically feel like it was just a Shadow skin over a Sonic level. I really hope that Generations has some Shadow combat abilities and not JUST the Doom Powers lol.

Which leads me to the Sonic 3 Trailer, as all things do today.

Shadow's scenes are very physical in the Sonic 3 trailer. The very first thing he does is bust out of the containment unit (alas I couldn't find a gif of it lol).

And then he goes into the roundhouse kicks (thank you Shadow 2005) and, as I stated above, those kicks pack a PUNCH.

Those soldiers are FLYING across the room lol.

Then there's everything from the First Encounter, starting with snapping Knuckles' wrist like kindling and ending with him rocketing Sonic into the ground in a chokehold.

Again - using his shoes to his advantage in fighting. I love to see it!!

Shadow moves fast and brutally and it takes a lot for Sonic to deal with him. Even in Sonic Prime, when they're not trying to kill each other, fighting Shadow in S1 before the Shatter took all of Sonic's attention. Once Shadow focuses on destroying Sonic in the movie, I expect a LOT of super intense fight scenes like the one we saw in the trailer.

Even Shadows movement in the movie is more physical. Sonic always makes running look effortless:

While Shadow looks like he's putting strength behind his skating:

They did this in Prime, too:

I really hope that we get to see even more of this distinction between the two and if the rumors of more spinoffs are true, I would love to see something like Sonic Prime where they get to work together using their differences, like how they've really pushed the differences between Sonic and Knuckles.

I'm deeply in love with the Paramount Sonic Team and I honestly haven't felt like they've missed (yes, I even loved the Knuckles show). I'm so happy to see all of these parallels in the trailer and I can't WAIT to see how it all comes together in the movie!

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: Im in a fucking rollllll. This series is my current hyper fixation and since I don’t really have an uploading schedule I just do it whenever lol. Also I LOOOVE reading all of y’all comments, they’re funny and they warm my heart. Y’all got me kicking my feet, giggling, blushing, twirling my hair. Anyways, apologies for If Miguel’s ooc and any spelling mistakes and grammatical errors since this isn’t proofread. Y’all may feast lol.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Cursing, angst.

Word count: 1.4k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4: Are there some aces up your sleeve?

—

“(Y/N), that is the 4th time you messed up the Camel spin today. If you can’t do it then we’ll just take it out of the program-“

“No! No, I can do it coach! I’m just having an off day and-“

“That’s not an excuse. Regionals are in late October, it is September. There shouldn’t be any excuse, we’re been doing this on repeat. This should be muscle memory.”

Coach Kavinsky words were only twisting the knife. You brought your shaky hands up to cover your nose and mouth, attempting to warm your face a bit and keep yourself from sobbing. Ever since you woke up in the morning everything has gone to shit. You failed your exam in your math class, on your way to your english class, you tripped and dropped your Starbucks, causing it to spill all over your shoes, and now you kept messing up the program. Logan could tell you were mere minutes away from a breakdown, your eyes were wet and your breathing was rapid, partly from skating and partly because you were trying to keep an oncoming panic attack at bay. “I-I can do it! I can do it, I just need a minute-“ you stutter and stumbles over your words, you bring your gloved hands over your face and placing them on the top of your hands.

“I think we should take a break coach, (Y/N) just needs to get some fresh air, right (Y/N)?” Logan said in a calm voice as the put his hand on your shoulder, but you quickly shook it off.

“No, it’s okay I can do it. See?” You were going hysterical, getting into position to do the spin only to fail the spin and fall butt first on the ice. Okay now you were having a breakdown.

“Jesus… okay. Logan take her outside, help her calm down will you?” Coach Kavinsky said to Logan who just nodded, waiting for you to move to your knees to help you get up and out of the rink.

—

“I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me today…” You stuttered in between shallow breaths, Logan’s hand rubbing slow smooth circles on your back in an attempt to help you calm down. “I’ve- I’ve never had trouble with that spin before- I just- I-“ you couldn’t finish, you’re stutters just devolving into more sobs as you put your face into your partner’s chest, tears spilling out. “I’m getting your shirt all wet…” You managed to say with a small chuckle as you pulled away after a few minutes, but the laugh was devoid of any warmness or joy. Your hand wiping some left over tears from your cheeks.

“It’s fine, I’m more worried about my best friend.” Logan said with a small smile, the hand that was rubbing your back now tracing up to your shoulders and pulling you closer to him in a side hug, you let out a small sigh as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Thanks Logan… I’m sorry… I’m a totally mess…” You mumbled as you wipe some more tears away, your eyes red and puff, a headache slowly creeping up on you from all the crying.

—

“Why… the fuck my is Ice princess and her little skating partner so close…” Miguel thought as he got out car, slamming the door without realizing as he glares at you and Logan from his spot across the parking lot. You or Logan hadn’t seen him since you were both so far away, and were more focused on trying to calm you down, Miguel was too far to noticed your tear stained face.

“Damn Miguel, dent the door why don’t you.” Peter attempted to joke while getting out from the passenger seat but his voice faltered, letting out a nervous chuckle after. Peter already knew the team was gonna be used as Miguel’s personal stress ball for the entirety of the practice time. Miguel just sent a glare at him in response, a small grunt escapes his lips as both of them grab their bags and hockey sticks from the back seat. “You seem more mad than usual, wanna talk about it? Or are you just gonna “accidentally” slam half the team into the boards like always?” He probes his captain, but he already knew his answer. Everyone on the team knew that Miguel isn’t a talk-about-your-feelings person.

“Shut up Parker.” He mutters as he slings his bag on his shoulders, closing and locking the door before both males started to make their way to the entrance. You currently burying your face into Logan’s shoulder, so Miguel couldn’t see your face, and Logan’s head was resting on top of yours, his arm still over your shoulders, his thumb creasing small circles on your shoulder. As soon as you were in ear-shot, Miguel shouted out to you both. “Aww look at the two lovebirds!” His voice dripping with sarcasm to hid the slight anger and jealousy he felt.

“I’m not in the mood, Miguel…” You’re voice was horse and raspy, as you spoke, and your eyes were bloodshot and puffy when you lifted your head up to look at him. The sight made Miguel’s heart ache, but the way your body was so close to Logan’s made it fill with rage and envy a lot more.

“She’s having a bad day, can we save-“ Logan started but was swiftly cut off.

“And that’s my problem because?” He hissed, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong huh? Did he drop you on your back again? Or was it something stupid like missing up a spin?” He taunted with a head tilt, Logan glared at Miguel, his hand’s grip tightening on your shoulder, Peter just nervously shifted his weight back and forth between his feet and you, well you were trying not to burst into tears again. He made it sound a lot more simple then it felt like, it made you feel embarrassed for being so distraught about it. He had no way of knowing that’s actually the reason for your tears.

“Can you not be a dick for 5 minutes?” You ask with an exhausted dry laugh, the laugh was your body’s way of holding yourself back from beginning to sob again. Your hand goes up to wipe some smuggled mascara from under your eyes. “Everything has been so fucking shitty all day, I-I don’t need you to come her and kick me while I’m down, Okay?” Your voice cracked as you spoke, and it only made Miguel feel worse.

You were right, he was acting like a major jerk right now. God what is wrong with him? Here you were in such a vulnerable place, your heart laying bare in front of him, and instead of making you feel better, instead of making your chest full with warmth and reassurance, he grabbed your still beating heart and began to feast on it like it was that night’s dinner.

God. What the fuck Miguel? What the fuck? What the fuck. Whatthefuck. Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck-

“Alright,” Coach Kavinsky came outside, crossing her arms as she spoke. “I’m just gonna cut practice short, it’s almost over anyways.” She said to Logan and you, before turning to you and speaking to you directly, “Go home, get some rest, and don’t stress yourself out too much over this, alright (Y/N?) Tomorrow is a new day, a fresh start, don’t let this one bad practice ruin your confidence in the program.” She finished, you just shook your head at her before she turned around and walked back into the building.

“Alright… let’s get you inside…” Logan said to you in a low comforting tone, getting off the sidewalk before helping you up, and began to walk you inside.

Miguel Let out a Heavy sigh, glancing to his side, running a hand through his slicked back dark hair, before attempting to speak, “Look. Princes-“ but he quickly shut his mouth when Logan looked over at him and sent him a dark glare, not stopping as he grabs your hand and drags you inside. If looks could kill, Miguel would be six feet under.

After a beat of silence, Peter cleared his throat before speaking, “well…that’s one way of trying to get her to notice you, nice going Miguel.” If Miguel didn’t already plan on releasing all his confused feelings and frustrations out on the ice before, he sure as hell was going to now. Miguel sent Peter a glare, mumbling some curses under his breath in Spanish , before he began to go walk into the arena, Peter stumbling to catch up with him.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @migueloharaspookiebear @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch

[blairamok]

Hi! I just happened across your on thin ice au today on instagram and I just immediately fell in love! The way you capture movement in your art is absolutely incredible! I used to figure skate, and I still love watching it, so I’m especially excited about it being combined with good omens. I also really love the costumes you’ve done for them! I used to want to design skating costumes so I definitely enjoy seeing cool designs 😊. I just really wanted to let you know that your work is appreciated and has brought me a lot of joy

- @butisittheineffableplan

thank you so much!!! i’m so glad to hear that. 😭🤍 i’m not a skater myself, so i always like hearing from you guys in hopes that i’m doing it justice (i’m terrible at skating, i have all the grace of a newborn giraffe and i just really like watching it). some of the costumes i’ve drawn so far are based on favorites worn by yuzuru and johnny, and aren’t technically “canon” to the story because i just really wanted to draw them in those particular ones, but as i flesh out what programs they are skating to in the story i hope to design some unique ones myself. i’m having a lot of fun thinking about costumes for exhibition programs thanks to more lax restrictions. here’s a magician themed costume i sketched out for aziraphale! (edit: this is one i actually designed for a magician themed ice show i had in mind for him lol)

[pronetoearinfections]

my sprunki hcs but in text from since I haven't drawn all of them yet el oh el

they're kinda based off of their canon but I just added my own little spin :333 BEATS Oren - Cis dude, has a big fat crush on simon. fluffy orange alien with glowing antenna, black shirt with a baggy over shirt and torn sk8ter jeans. he smells oddly enough like banana

he's laid back, uses a lot of today's slang, and skates ALOT. he smokes with vineria sometimes, but VERYYY rarely. ever. he gave Simon an edible once and Simon fucking geeked out and he's sworn to never to it again. Raddy - Cis dude, str8 as FUCK. a buff red goat who has four horns and wears a white tank top and black sweats, his pupils are slanted sidways. he smells faintly of sweat cause he works out so much lol he's short tempered, egotistical, and he works out a bunch, he makes fun of oren and everyone else who's shorter than him for it then gets made fun of being shorter than wenda and durple. Clukr - Cis dude, happily married with garnold. a silver beetle with mandibles near his mouth and on his temples, he has a exoskeleton back and he has little legs on his sides. he smells kinda like oil but mostly of cologne. he's intelligent, and spends a lot of time building robotics with garnold. he's funny, and he makes a loud " TSSHH " with his headpiece when startled or upset. he clicks his wrench on his headpiece when he's bored too, or when he's thinking. Vineria - transmasc, str8. a tall plant with dreads, pink flowers and vines in his hair, he wears a oversized sweater w/ flowers on it. he smells really strongly of weed with a mix of perfume.

VERY laid back, a stoner ( lol ), he draws alot of flowers and paints them. he's very soft spoken, and he's honesty kinda slow when it comes to work & thinking. but he's sweet, he also offers people a joint when they're stressed.

Fun-Bot - Cis dude?????? he's a robot so idk. a grey robot with fur and hair implemented on his head and chest, his eyes r a visor and his mouth is connected to them, his antenna glow when he feels intense emotion. he smells like metal I guesshelep

very smart due to him being a robot, he gets asked alot of questions by the other sprunkis due to him being basically an AI, he likes to read and his antenna move, any time he walks or moves a little robotic " vrr " sound comes out of his joints.

EFFECTS Grey - Cis dude, str8, dating wenda. a fluffy grey dog ( a breed of shepherd dog to be specific ) usually wears a Weezer shirt and a pair of baggy blue jeans. he smells like Britney spears midnight fantasy perfume

slightly sarcastic, seems tired, chill, not much exaggerated personality, he uses perfume because wenda forces him because cologne smells bad to her and she doesn't like it. he doesn't like to get too deep into conversation with those he doesn't know. he's very skiddish, yet tries to play it off as him being ignorant. he sits in deep thought alot, with his head in his hand and his gaze zoned off.

Brud - CIs dude, even he's not sure what he is or who he likes lol. a fluffy brown critter ( I don't know what to make him lol ) with a grey bucket on his head, his eyes are off center and he has two mandibles around his mouth, he also has little bug legs on his side. he has a large abdomen with multiple legs on it like a centepede.( I feel like he'd be some sort of bug ), he wears a light brown sweater and black jeans. he smells like dirt and moss but in a really good way.

he's clumsy, a bit dumb, and he likes to eat moss when nobody's around. he can't process much unless it's explained to him like he's stupid ( which he is ), his mandibles clamp together when he's upset. Garnold - CIs dude, married w/ clukr. a critter who usually wears a pair of oil stained overalls, a white t-shirt, and giggles on his head, his gold suit has goggles on it's head, the suit has springlocks in it and it has an electronic visor, it's made of steel and the springlocks are located in his upper and lower torso, arms, neck, head, and legs. he smells like oil and sweat ( he DOES shower but he works really hard on his creations ) he's buff due to all the heavy-lifting of metal and he spends a lot of time plotting and building robots, both him and clukr built Mr.fun computer, and fun-bot. he's very strong and can carry anything you give him, he and clukr plan things and blueprint them. he has a slight southern accent.

OWAKCX - Cis dude, pansexual with no preference. a spiky lime green sea urchin with fluff on his chest. one of his pupils is bigger than the other. he smells like chlorine in a pool. he's very on edge, he's always tense and alert, when relaxed his spikes go down and become fuzzy and fluffy, he chitters when relaxed. he doesn't talk much and when he does he says words and doesn't connect them into sentences. Sky - CIs dude, str8. he's 14 El oh. El. a sky blue bear who's slightly on the bigger side, he's fluffy, and wears pajamas often. he smells like Lysol disinfectant spray

he's your average teenager, but he collects teddy bears, he's chill and laid back, but he also has alot to say and he's kinda snarky. he thrifts alot of his bears so he has to clean them using lysol. he really likes to sew his bears together and he makes things out of the thrifted bears.

MELODIES - Durple - Cis dude, Bi. a purple dragon with a slightly longer neck than the other sprunkis, he has two long slightly curled horns and webbed fins ( or ears ) on the side of his head. he smells like smoke very faintly. he's very funny and cracks a lot of jokes, he can breath fire and huff smoke out of his nostrils when upset, he's bigger than the other sprunkis due to him being a dragon. he collects alot of things and steals from other people cuz he's a dragon.

Simon - Transmasc, has a fat crush on oren but he doesn't know. a fluffy yellow alien with spikes on the sides of his head,his hair is curly, he usually wears a white t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. he smells like cologne.

he's loud, energetic, and drinks a lot of soda, he likes playing video games w/ oren and he makes fun of him when he loses. he's very out of pocket and has little to no filter. his antenna can electrocute people and they vibrate when he's comforted, he also purrs. but its a weird electric sounding purr.

Tunner - CIs dude, bi. a snake-like critter with a rattlesnake tail ( he's not really an animal but he's DEF something. idk ) who's both fluffy and scaly in different areas. he wears sheriff/cowboy lookin' stuff and he has a very western accent. he smells like fall trees.

he's kind, and gives off dad vibes, he has a STRONG western accent and he enjoys driving and allowing the wind to get in his fur ( and on his scales ) he's tall and slim and his tail rattles when he's really upset. he owns a gun, and his aim is very good. VOICES Mr.fun computer - ??? no clue. a computer bot thingy. a computer who was built a body, his arms and legs are skinny and metal, while his hands and feet are soft and have pawpads. his head is a computer screen and his torso is protected with durable metal. his tail is a black wire with a charger port on the end. he has a propeller hat on. he smells like metal???

he', he likes to have fun and party, he can charge himself by sticking his tail into an outlet. he was garnold's and cluker's first creation. idk what else to wriet

Wenda - Cis chick, dating grey. a fluffy white cat with curly, soft hair. she's tall and hovers over anyone she stands by, she smells like perfume and vanilla.

wenda is slightly rude, but also very flirty when it comes to grey, she's very teasing and she likes to go mall shopping and make grey come with her, and she lets him go to hot topic el oh el. wenda's VERY condescending to literally everyone and will literally look at you while you're upset and baby talk you like you're two. just for fun. lol. but she's also very soft, and if you know her well enough she's sweet and will purr on you.

Pinki - Cis chick, she a MAD lesbian on God trust. a pink fluffy rabbit who wears bows in her hair. she wears juicy couture jumpsuits and other stuff of their brand. she smells like perfume. like. REALLY strongly of really nice perfume brands.

pinki is a girly girl who's actually really sweet, like, REALLY. sweet, she offers to buy the other sprunkis food and presents and she's very sentimental, if you buy her something she'll start crying and hugging you and saying thank you, she often whistles and hums random tunes.

Jevin - Cis dude, blacks little e-kitten.. EHELP. jevin is a blue fluffy angel-like critter who wears a cloak all the time, his cloak has holes in the back of it to make space for his wings. they're like. HUGE. if you pull his hood down he has fluffy hair that's very soft to the touch. he smells like a candle??? Idk

jevin is a closed off, very introverted cultist who doesn't speak much. he's selectively mute and only really talks to black, he's tall and slim and her rarely takes his hood down. he's basically black's disciple but he really doesn't want to be but he won't fess that up to black ( he's kinda scared of him ) when he's upset or scared he'll fold his wings back and scowl. Black - Cis dude, jevins emo alpha..EHELPME. black is also. fluffy. and he's a shapeshifter who usually takes the form of a slightly humanoid with a black tophat. he smells like. good. but you can;t really pinpoint what he smells like he just smells decent idk.

black doesn't speak much, and he's also very closed off, but he's a master manipulator who makes slick, smooth moves on the other sprunkis for his own will, he has a condescending attitude and he's kinda unnerving to talk too. very odd. oddball. anywaysss uhh. yeah. giggle. I will draw my designs of them later

[the-last-thread-of-my-sanity]

In relation to your last ask what do you see Annie doing later on?, im sure she’ll follow armin everywhere he goes and she’ll eventually gets to like being an ambassador but im sure she’ll want to try something different #to save what we have

Thanks for your question Avery!

I actually wrote one post-canon little one shot that isn’t technically a part of ‘to save what we have’ but it might as well be- where she finds a hidden passion for women’s issues and orphaned children in particular.

It’s called ‘your captivating words’ and in it she is editing Armin’s speech on a women’s issue topic and he eventually convinces her to deliver the speech herself. I never really planned a continuation of that little story- but the headcanon that Annie becomes connected to her ambassador work through the lens of women’s and children’s issues is near and dear to me.

I view it as a semi-healing process for her. She grew up without a mother and she was effectively orphaned if not for her father taking her in. But she’s known her whole life that he wasn’t her biological father- and Post-Rumbling there’s probably A LOT of orphans. But she herself is this ‘strong woman’- I imagine she has a bit of a reputation as the ‘Female Titan’ and her exploits for Marley. There’s probably a bit of mythos surrounding that- how talented or driven or deadly you have to be at such a young age to be selected among the Warrior Candidates for that Titan. So it would seem natural for her to take those issues on over the other Ambassadors.

I think Armin is the first and most influential factor in the gradual ‘softening’ of Annie, so to speak. Then there’s Pieck, who I like to believe she develops a close friendship with. But I think discovering a passion for women’s issues would also be a healthy way for her to reconnect with her femininity, too.

In ‘on the path’ I spend a bit of time establishing her relationships with Mina and Hitch as these little glimpses into what her life or sensibilities would be like if she were a ‘normal’ girl- and I really do think that Annie desires this. She mentions it herself many times in the manga/anime. She likes sweets, and fluffy kittens, and her disguise for when she’s snooping around Mitras is a flowy purple dress. Her chosen independent study is related to medicine and plants- keeping her in close proximity to flowers and bringing out her more nurturing and caring side.

So I feel like if I’m assuming that same Annie from ‘on the path’ has grown up to be the Annie in ‘to save what we have’ she’s had a little over ten years of healing and discovering herself and she feels more connected to the feminine/non-Warrior parts of herself than she ever has. I also headcanon that Annie takes up dancing or ice skating as a way to stay in shape and hone her body while exploring a form of self-expression that is purely creative and non-violent. I think Armin would encourage this in her.

Because the unique thing about Armin is that he has *always* looked at Annie and just seen a girl. The Annie that she subconsciously wished she could be if she didn’t have her secrets or responsibilities. Not a Warrior. Not a scared child. Not an intimidating cadet and soldier. But a caring, quiet girl. And I think because he so earnestly believes that he knows Annie- she can accept that those things are true about herself too.

This became a very long rambling answer (my apologies bc I have had a long and rambling day today lol) but in short- I think Annie will take a couple of years to heal from her experiences and become in touch with her feminine side. I think she will also not take a front and center role- occasionally Armin will actually insist that she doesn’t bc he cares about her so much but also he’s so thick-headed he takes on all the responsibilities. But when the cause is important to her, I think she will dedicate herself to it very faithfully. Because Annie is *nothing* if not diligent and efficient.

Armin is definitely more of the ‘talker’- but I think Annie sees the details. I think she’s an editor, a logistics gal, professional proofreader. She worked as a detective and a spy, so she doesn’t miss the fine print or the subtleties. So that’s her strong suit.

Once she becomes a mother, I think she will take that very seriously too bc she has a strong desire to do it ‘right’- but she also wouldn’t abandon Armin to overburden himself either.

I think Annie takes her entire life to discover herself- but she is practical and versatile and adaptable and when she finds a need that suits her talents she fills it.

[lesbianslvt666]

hunger

Musician!R x artist!guitarrist!E

In which Ellie sees how much you want to make your dreams come true so she helps you as much as she can.

but being a rockstar comes with a lot of fun, and a lot of pain…

TW: not proof read 😔👎

CW: mentions of gore, in the future mean Ellie, a bit of angst, some fluff, whiped!Ellie, a bit of loser Ellie lol, mentions of the U.K!! And a lot of fucking cursing, mentions or descriptions of drugs and alcohol, and smoking, a lot lol.

Smut in the future of course 

you couldn’t afford to continue with your studies.

not that you cared about college either, you knew you had a greater purpose since you were a child, writing songs as soon as you learned your ABC's, and singing as soon as were out of the womb.

music school was WAY out of budget.

The original plan was the U.K… too expensive to get there…

Then it was of course New York… you know the drill…

When you moved to Brooklyn you were expecting to get a closer insight on the music industry.

to be where the majority of your favourite artists grew up in.

However, you were greeted with a guy trying to mug you but getting mugged by an older woman while you flee the scene, and an extremely expensive rent for an apartment the size of a sock.

L shaped. a room, a very small study, a bathroom that didn’t had a separation between the shower head and the toilet and the smallest kitchen to ever exist.

However, the view was like no other, the big window pointing to the walls marked in art to the bone, people on the nearby basketball court, playing live music, skating or, of course, playing basketball.

Working two side jobs to pay for your needs and your pretty black cat named tuna.

still, working during day time as a receptionist and playing in ugly shit holes of bars at night wasn’t easy to maintain.

You needed a roommate fast.

and as today calls, with Mia storming out of the pub.

bruised lip after fighting a creep, guitar hanging from her shoulder and both middle fingers pointing at you and your band, while walking backwards to the exit and screaming.

"I quit you cunts! this aint going anywhere!"

you also needed a guitarist…

That’s when you started to talk with your friends, you needed someone that wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, or worse… steal all your shit and run away, or even lamer…. that would get you in a pyramid scheme.

So you called your best girl, the most precious sunshine in the world. Dina, who by now was sitting across your bed, feet on your lap while you massaged them.

for fucks sake, poor Dina worked as a hostess in a very expensive restaurant, working on high heels for six hours a day. She needed the relive.

"so I told him that if he ever came closer to me I was going to yank the little three hairs left in his receding balding stupid head of his, smash his skull hard against the pavement and make him clean his brain splattered with his tongue" her soft demeanour and relaxed body contrasting her poison laced words, however, all you could see was flowers and rainbows clouding around her.

"Dina, I need a roommate, like now, or I'll have to go back to Michigan with my dad…" you changed the subject as soon as she stopped talking, her eyes darting to you and her body lifting from the mattress.

She already had two roomies and her rent was way too good to be located in new York, you didn’t wanted her to leave such a good opportunity of a place.

"do you perhaps have a friend that would be waling to take the smallest of rooms aka aa fucking 2x2 meters study? And very small bathroom and shower that leaks and I haven't been able to fix, in this very shitty part of Brooklyn and-"

your rant was interrupted by Dina's hand on your thigh, cleaning the tears that were falling from your eyes without you noticing.

 this was your chance to prove to yourself you could make your dreams come true and money wasn’t helping…

"I have a friend… I mean she is not like,  rich, but she has financial aid in NYU in visual arts, she just enrolled a few months ago and her landlord is a fucking weirdo, also… I guess she would like to live the Brooklyn experience?, you know, all Basquiat and shit…" she said almost not paying attention to her own words while looking for her friends contact on her phone.

The pencil Ellie had on her hand was hammering the table in front of her, this lecture too boring for her to even care.

She had to add it to her schedule for extra points after missing too many classes.

Her early morning classes were a pain in her ass, she had to work night shifts to pay her "fucking new York rent" as she told her best friend Jesse.

"bzzz, bzzzz…" the sudden messages scaring the shit out of Ellie, she wasn’t dealing right now, so who was messaging her? Both Joel and Jesse knew she was in class, her last hook up stood her up after a night at a party and she had no other friends… perhaps an emergency?

She unlocked her phone, hiding it behind her sketchbook, (she was doing homework for another class)

@Dina_beatchlvr

Hey, Ellie, sorry the time.

Jesse told me u in class, but I am.

I am here with my friend, she has this free studio down here in Brooklyn, great location and pretty view from the main window.

@ells69

Sup, umm, I already have an apartment tho?

@Dina_beatchlvr

Yeah, I mean… thought you wanted to get away from your landlord as possible? 🤷🏽‍♀️

@ells69

What's the catch? How much? And who is your friend? Iont wanna die before 27 :))

@Dina_beatchlvr

 the catch is that she needs a roomie and I don’t want wtvr weirdo in her personal space.

I also happen to know that you need to renew the contract with your creep of a landord, anddddd, the place is smoke and pet frendly :)) (she has a pretty cattt)

Also this her @dyk34u

Think about it ;)

Of course Dina knew what she was doing, she knew that your insta would call her attention.

Hell she knew you was her type. (and the bikini pics work wonders for her plan)

Without a thought Ellie moved in with you, no time to check the actual location before leaving her new York apartment and took off everything with her.

You didn’t knew her aside from that one pic Dina showed you from like three years ago, yet you trusted Dina with your life, you knew she wouldn’t let you get killed or robed.

Dina and her boyfriend came with Ellie to help with the unpacking, the two being the first ones to enter the "house"

Behind them, a woman mumbling obscenities about how small the house was and how actual of a shit hole this was and how she was tricked to live there.

she looked a bit taller than you, a bit muscular but skinny, freckles dusting all over her face and shoulders as she was wearing a wife pleaser, perky boobs that displayed against the white thin fabric of her shirt and some skinny jeans, however, the most important part.

A guitar case hanged in one of her shoulders.

Perfect.

When her eyes landed on you she shut her mouth.

"sorry, ummhh, I am Ellie, you must be…" she extended her hand to you and you took it while telling her your name.

that evening was rather uneventful. really just helping her unpacking and putting things away, it was your free day at your day job. Still… you were playing almost two shows every night.

You weren't the best at playing guitar, you and the girls were enduring these shows.

all of you looking for a new guitarist.

Holding auditions with pretentious shits or men denigrating your job for being "a bunch of dykes in a whiny band"

So, a few hours prior to going to your first gig of the night you took all of your courage to ask her.

"from one to ten, how good are you at playing? Guitar, i mean…" Ellie was sitting across from you, finishing to place the headboard.

Her sight puncturing to your face as soon as you asked that.

She took it a s a challenge, squint eyes eyeing you up and down, a small smirk glowing.

"oh I am shit, a two out of ten if you count one being a new born."

her hand grabbing for her guitar nearby, you laughed at her dry sarcasm, although your laugh was short lived as soon as she started to play.

veiny and tatted hands strumming and playing a jazz melody.

her fingers waltzing smoothly like she was just a breeze on top of the strings, making it look so easy.

her eyes connecting with yours, her face relaxed and a pretty shit eating grin all over her features.

She didn’t knew how you manage to convince her to go and watch you guys play, (only at the first pub of the night.) even though she had a test the next day seven am sharp.

She was in a trance as soon as you started to sing, lyrics soul puncturing and music enticing, easy to hear, hard not to take heartfelt.

The way you moved on stage, your body contorting and dancing, music guiding you like a puppet, she wanted to see you like this for ever, it was like a spell put on her, nothing else in her mind, clouded completely by you.

You.

She knew you would make it big.

you mention coming here to make your goals come true and she didn’t had a doubt you would make it.

I mean, Look at you! Everyone around you bewitched.

When the first gig ended Ellie couldn’t think of anything else, she needed to be there when you make it big, to be beside you.

"what'ya think?" you asked her out of breath, clothes tight on your body (she was looking at your tits) from all the sweat while you took your hair up.

The veins on you neck popping out, flush skin shimmering with sweat.

"can I kiss you?"

She wasn’t thinking at all, only you all over her, you.

your mind thought a hundred thoughts in less than a second, pros and cons and then landed on "we are in 2023 girl, a kiss is like a hug now a days" right? Like, this is only friendly and of course I wouldn’t make anything weird? Right?

Right…

So you took her by the hair and pressed your lips to hers.

Her strong hands groping your ass and yours moving to her waist to feel her closer, caressing the small of her back, open mouths and the taste of liquor from Ellie, clashed with the taste of cigarettes form you.

She sent you a message when she arrived to the apartment, after that…

You didn’t saw her when you arrived.

you didn’t saw her when she left.

when you left she wasn’t home already.

you didn’t saw her when you came back from day work.

So you went to the store, out of nowhere craving noodles to eat before you could sleep a bit and then go to play.

Certainly no to entertain your wondering mind, Ellie fogging all of it, like you where walking down an infinite path down Ellie lane.

The growing anxiety quivering in you head, what if she thought it was a mistake?

However, when you came back you saw Ellie sitting.

crossed legged on the living room.

guitar on.

and a bunch of papers scattered around her.

She was learning your songs…

let me know if you wanna be on the tag list

remember that my requests are open <3

[reineyday]

i posted these mishanks figure skater/hockey player au doodles and @giurochedadomani and i got to talking about mihawk wearing shanks's jersey during an olympic skate and then i typed this up lol i am extremely sleep-deprived rn but im not gonna clean it up unless i write the rest of it so. we'll see. ;P uhh and i'll tag @ellii0tt too since your post started this whole thing haha. ✨️

shanks loves to look at mihawk, and while the ice dancer's face when he skated was what first drew shanks to him, it wouldnt be inaccurate to say mihawk's oft-displayed chest might have also been a large contributing factor.

it's what he's expecting to see when mihawk skates out for this gala exhibition routine: the centre of mihawk's chest surrounded by glittering sparkles or ruffled lace or gauzy stretched tight fabric, the cross he loves prominently centred where shanks used to like to bury his face at night. he was expecting the opportunity to ogle--the invitation, really, as all mihawk's solo outfits usually were invitations to look and be captured by the way his body moves on the ice.

when mihawk steps up to the rink's gate to remove his skate guards--before shanks lets himself ogle--he takes a customary look at mihawk's expression, only distantly noting for now that mihawk is clad in a more vibrant red than the figure skater generally enjoys sporting. it'a just that shanks always likes to gauge mihawk's mood right before he goes out for a routine, so he can guess at his frame of mind for after his performance. today, mihawk seems more nervous than usual, like there's a lot riding on the line. it's strange because he looks more anxious before this exhibition skate--something just for fun that the figure skaters do for the audience, totally optional--than he does when he's about to do a routine that could net him an olympic medal.

shanks doesn't really take in exactly how familiar the red is until his eyes finally trail down to do some ogling and he finds himself confronted with his own hockey team's jolly roger logo. his mouth drops open as he registers that mihawk is wearing shanks's jersey--and it is shanks's, mihawk hasn't shown his back yet but the 39 on the sleeve is prominent enough--and he's wearing it on the olympic exhibition skate night on international television, and about to do a routine in it.

shanks would ask what it means, but he already knows. there's gasping and chattering as mihawk finally skates out and does a turn to reveal the large AKAGAMI 39 on the back of the jersey. shanks covers his mouth with his hand, already feeling his eyes start to burn with tears.

goddamn mihawk and his stupid goddamn--everything! shanks was fooling himself for ever thinking he could get over him.

mihawk makes a few more circles around the rink, gratuitous for him since he usually likes to just start right away. it's like he's showing off the jersey, making sure all the cameras get a good view of the back. all that extra time to look does actually make shanks realize it's a jersey from way before, so old it doesn't have his captain's C on it, because it was from before his captaincy. shanks huffs out a laugh as he suddenly remembers a laundry day early in their relationship where he accussd mihawk of stealing his jersey and mihawk told him point-blank that it was just lost. this asshole liar. shanks still loves him so much.

mihawk finally makes his way to the centre of the rink and poses in a starting position, raising his arms and drawing attention to the way the sleeves are folded back once to reveal his lithe wrists.

the music starts.