#these intermissions last for as long as i want them to last :-)

[exhuastedpigeon]

tell me everything about the giant hangster wip, i need deets

BABY I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED!!!!!

Okay so I saw TGM on a flight like 2 years ago and was like, those two are definitely shippable and then I spent 3 weeks in Europe and forgot about them. Fast forward to October of last year when a friend asks if I'd beta their first Hangster fic and I was like... yes but let me rewatch the movie and I was slapped in the face with the desire to write a hangster Olympic hockey AU.

Except you've know me, I needed some backstory for them being at the Olympics which spiraled into me going "well I'll just write the entire hockey season". The original outline was literally four chapters each titled with a season (Chapter 1 was summer, Chapter 2 was fall, etc).

But Jake grabbed me by the throat and was like "Actually Han, this fic is going to be at least 10 chapters and my dad died when I was 19 and I have not processed that and this is a slow burn long distance rivals to friends to lovers story :)"

So we've got Hangman playing for the San Jose Sharks, Rooster playing for the Washington Capitols, all the daggers playing Olympic hockey together, a truly insane amount of backstory, Hangster being so insane about each other, and a lot of me making romantic metaphors using hockey.

A little snippet from Chapter 5 under the cut :)

“What the fuck was that,” Jake seethes, pushing Bradley into the locker room between the first and second period. 

“I lost the puck -”

“No Bradshaw, that wasn’t you losing the puck,” Jake’s not sure why he’s so much more mad at Bradley than the rest of the guys who were on the ice, maybe because he expects more of Bradley, because he knows how good he is. “That was playing so carefully that you got left behind. Stop. Fucking. Thinking.”

“Easy for you to say” Bradley mutters, turning away from Jake with an eye roll, grabbing a water bottle off of the bench as he does.

“Mav,” Jake calls across the room where Maverick has clearly been watching them. “Gonna tell Bradshaw here how he fucked up?”

“You’re doing a pretty good job of that for me,” Maverick says and then he turns to address the room at large. “First period under your belts means I expect the jitters to be gone when we’re back out on the ice. Coyote - you’re moving to a line with Omaha and Hammer. Hangman, you’re moving to a line with Rooster and Fritz.”

Jake opens his mouth to say something - he’s not sure what - when Maverick gives him a look that shuts him up before he can even start. He’s not sure what the fuck is going on - he was centering the second line, more like the second first line with how fucking good they are, he doesn’t want to be pushed to wing. It feels like he’s being punished. 

“Same plan of attack - we’re faster, stronger, and better than they are. We need to start actually capitalizing on the turnovers and get some breakaways,” Maverick says and Jake’s heard it all before. It was what he talked about during camp this summer and what he talked about on the flight over and what he talked about while they were cheering on the women’s team. “I expect us to be tied or winning before the next intermission.”

[snowbatsims]

VAMPIRE INTERMISSION #3

Finally, Rune and Morten woke up.

Rune didn't really sleep that well, so he's doing a dark meditation on top of it...

While Morten woke up fairly well-rested, and is just kind of annoyed. Like, what the hell. They're a coffin sleeper now??

He does not know how to feel about this.

Well, well, well. Look who decided to shoot Rune a text as soon as he opened his Social Bunny: Andreas Ojo, his old ex.

He hasn't heard from this man in actual years. Probably because Andreas was a total cheating bastard, but it has been a while, and they've both moved on since then.

Right?

ANDREAS: Rune! Oh man, it has been so many years, and now I suddenly spotted you on my social bunny feed. Would you like to come over for like, a cup of... uh, blood or something? No I'm not a vampire, but I know you are, so hey, let's at least catch up a bit. RUNE: Alright.

It looks like he lives in Henford-on-Bagley these days. Rune does wonder what he's up to, and against his better judgement, he agreed to go.

RUNE: You rang? RUNE: Boy, how many years has it been now? You've gotten all grey already! ANDREAS: Quite a few, yes. Maybe even twenty. Hello!

RUNE: Soooo.... how has life been treating you? I see you at least managed to get out of that shack at the bluffs! ANDREAS: Ah, yes... yes. Well, it wasn't quite rags to riches for me, but at least I can say I got myself out of that hole and found a nice place to live here comfortably. RUNE: Oh, good!

ANDREAS: But I gotta say.... I have been craving more. RUNE: Like what? ANDREAS: Time. Money. Adventure... ANDREAS: You.

RUNE: Woww, wait, hold up there. RUNE: Me??? ANDREAS: My feelings for you never went away, just please- RUNE: No. RUNE: No no no, we are absolutely not rekindling that trainwreck of a relationship. ANDREAS: Aw, come on- RUNE: No. I'm over you. I'm sorry.

RUNE: And besides, you're married. ANDREAS: 😰 RUNE: Supernatural hearing, remember? I can literally hear your current wife and kid inside the house. RUNE: I know what you're doing.

ANDREAS: I could always divorce her... RUNE: No!! ANDREAS: If I become a vampire, I could outlive her. We could- RUNE: Still no.

RUNE: Listen here Andy, I only showed up for a visit, for a bit of catch-up, and maybe hang out at a local bar or something, as mere friends... RUNE: After all, it's been twenty years since I last saw you, so of course I'd hoped you had changed at least a little since then. I'm not here to unknowingly help you cheat again. That's not happening. No. ANDREAS: Aw..... not even a little smooch? RUNE: No. Please respect my boundaries on this, alright?

ANDREAS: Fine.... Fine. ANDREAS: But listen, I've been thinking.... I recently heard one of my oldest sons died in a fire. He was about to get married and everything... ANDREAS: It truly makes me realize how fragile life itself is. To be snuffed out so early... RUNE: I thought you just had a daughter? ANDREAS: Ah yeah, but I also had three children with this woman called Billie Jang, before I got together with Masami, the vampire who caught us in the act. You remember that, yes?

RUNE: All too well... ANDREAS: Yeah. ANDREAS: Anyway, I'm thinking about my son Rolf. He's dead now. I don't want to die too, there are so many things I haven't gotten around to, I-- ANDREAS: ....... ANDREAS: I want to be a vampire. Alright? RUNE: ....

RUNE: WHAT??? ANDREAS: It's just a simple bite and then some of your vampire blood, isn't it? Come on, man. You know me. RUNE: It's not "just a simple bite"!! RUNE: And besides, I have never done this before, and just- No. I cannot turn you. ANDREAS: Ah. RUNE: Being a vampire isn't even all that it's cracked up to be!! And I just never had the choice in the first place, having been born like this. RUNE: You'll be forced to be nocturnal, you can't eat food anymore, the sun will hurt and you won't have as many opportunities. You'll be mostly closed off from the mortal world, Andy. Didn't you hate sleeping in coffins?? ANDREAS: Not a problem. I've thought about this for a while now and I don't think I'll mind this stuff all that much. I'll still take all that, over not having enough time to do anything at all. RUNE: Er... alright, suit yourself?? But I really don't want to be the one to sire you like that. It does not feel right. ANDREAS: Fine. ANDREAS: I just thought you still loved me. RUNE: Andy- ANDREAS: Can't I at least have a hug before you leave? RUNE: I guess...

RUNE: ... RUNE: Promise me you won't try to become immortal, alright? ANDREAS: .... RUNE: Andreas Ojo-

RUNE: (idiot.....)

CONTINUE ->

bonus chapter ->

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Okay this one's been stuck in my head all day but I have absolutely time to write it so please share this vision with me

Try as they might, Steve and Robin couldn't get tickets to Chrissy Cunningham's arena tour, but they could get tickets to a festival she was playing.

The last thing Steve ever wanted to do was go and stand in a muddy field for sixteen hours while they waited for the headline act. But he was pretty sure Robin was in love with her favourite musician, and he wasn't about to deny his best friend a chance at love.

So he helped her make personalised t-shirts because honestly all the other bands in the line-up kinda sounded like they sucked.

His read, "Only Here for Chrissy" on the front and "I'm Steve" on the back and Robin's read "Chrissy, Will You Be My Girlfriend?" on the front and "If Lost, Please Return To Steve" on the back.

And it turned out, as they stood against the barrier in a not so muddy field, on a lovely, warm, but overcast, May day, that even bands that sucked could be fun. Even if it was only because they spent their day with earplugs in, so their eardrums wouldn't combust, bitching about each artist's lack of ability to put notes or an outfit together.

During the lunchtime intermission, the pair made friends with the lesbian couple next to them, Kayla and Jess, who were also eagerly awaiting Chrissy's set and similarly liked to mock those who committed crimes against sound and fashion. Steve was glad to have met them, they were really nice, and he felt better about leaving her to use the bathroom or to fetch food, knowing Robin was in safe hands.

He also felt better about letting her wander off, not that it stopped him from stressing out when she and Kayla had been missing for over fifteen minutes. He spread himself out to keep their places against the railing with his back to the stage, watching the crowd intently. Jess wasn't quite as chatty once they were alone, but she seemed content enough, bobbing along to the band that'd appeared on the stage.

Steve didn't turn back around to face the stage until he spotted the girls heading back towards them, he gave them a wave and turned around to look at the guys who hadn't been attempting to destroy anyone's hearing and was met with the face of the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Pretty face, long curly hair tied up in a bun, muscle tee showing off his many tattoos, piercings and chains and glittery Docs; Steve felt himself owl blink and blush.

God's gift to mankind was kneeling centre stage, guitar in hand making the most beautiful sounds Steve had ever heard as his fingers flew over the strings, and it was only when the rest of the band kicked back in that the man looked up, winked directly at Steve, and then jumped back to his feet, spending the rest of the song bouncing around the stage.

Steve only realised his mouth was agape when Robin finally arrived next to him and elbowed him hard in the ribs, giving him the same look she did whenever he was embarrassing in the club. He watched the rest of the Corroded Coffin, according to the backdrop, set in awe. Screaming and clapping along when they wished everyone a great day, throwing picks and drumsticks into the crowd and taking a bow; patting each other on the back as they wandered offstage.

As soon as it was quiet again, Robin wanted to know what the hell was wrong with his face and honestly, he couldn't answer her. He didn't even believe in love, not for himself at least, and he certainly didn't believe in love at first sight. It didn't stop him from spending the next couple of hours watching the faces at the sides of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of his new favourite guitarist, though.

As soon as Chrissy hit the stage, Steve got lost, between filming the set and watching Robin trying not to hyperventilate when Chrissy spotted her t-shirt, pointed to her, and giving her a coy little wink, blew her a kiss.

"An old school friend is here with me tonight, and I'd like him to help me out with this next track. Especially for the beauty in the front row, this is Girlfriend!"

The crowd went wild as the beat kicked in, but Steve was still watching Robin because it looked like she'd stopped breathing altogether. That was until she gasped loudly and started smacking Steve in the way she always did whenever she got overly excited; pointing wildly at the stage, and it was only when he looked over he saw Corroded Coffins guitarist bouncing up and down next to Chrissy.

Instead of the black muscle vest and skinny jeans he'd been sporting earlier in the day, he had changed into pale blue board shorts and a baggy white t-shirt that read "Hey Steve!" written in black sharpie with a giant winking smiley face underneath that could only really be seen when he swung his guitar around his back to copy Chrissy's dance moves.

The song ended, and the friends hugged, Chrissy waving him off the stage and calling out, "Eddie Munson everybody!" letting the crowd go wild for her friend before launching into the rest of her set.

By the time Chrissy had actually left the stage, Robin looked exhausted, having screamed and sung and danced herself out. They hung around a bit, said goodbye to Kayla and Jess, wishing them a safe journey home, and they were just taking one last look at the now empty stage when he heard someone yell his name...

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase three: intermission.

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: jungkook hasn’t had any drinks so far, but he’s the rawest he’s ever been.

alternatively, jungkook has three separate conversations while he’s at the club.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

Yoongi always finds some way to piss Jungkook off.

Your husband isn’t sure if he’s just that easy to piss off or if Yoongi really is an extremely annoying person that gets on everyone’s nerves (his especially), but regardless, your friend always finds some way to set him to the edge.

Jungkook almost bended a fork with his teeth when you called out baby along with your subsequent request for him to pass the sauce, but even before he could reach for said container, Yoongi (who was sitting on the other end of the table) dashes over to your seat to give you sauce and piss him off in the process.

He almost grabbed Yoongi by the hair that one time when you were on your last shot on your film camera and you wanted to take a photo of them, but right at the last second of you taking it, Yoongi told him there was a cockroach by his feet which immediately made it look like Jungkook was bowing to him. He’s already ripped up the picture as soon as you got it developed, but the anger at the seemingly surface-level tricks he pulled on him always ate at him.

Jungkook only texted Yoongi awhile ago, and while he wasn’t expecting an immediate reply given the time difference, he almost wished the latter didn’t even respond in the first place. 

you’re hwayoung’s godfather

look after her while i’m gone

The two of them have been civil, maybe even friendly at best, since yours and Jungkook’s month-long break before Hwayoung came along; Jungkook doesn’t expect much from Yoongi except for the bare minimum — the problem is that Yoongi himself wants to go above and beyond.

i know that

i don’t need you to be gone for me to look after hwayoung lol

Jungkook huffs at the insinuation, brows immediately knitted as he tries to focus his eyes on his phone that seems to be the brightest source of light in the dimmed, packed club.

?

He can admit to himself (to you too, but never to anyone else especially Yoongi) that he can sometimes go overboard looking in between the lines. It’s this nagging feeling in Jungkook’s brain that he needs to analyze everything from all angles when it concerns you and the people who are fond of you. It’s this irritating quirk of his that he himself hates because he can’t be placated at the thought of something, someone, getting in between the two of you.

Especially if it’s Yoongi, even if he’s already sworn up and down that he’s moved on from you.

Most especially Yoongi, who’s close to his family in more ways than one, now that he’s left for the meantime.

i’ll take care of y/n too dw :)

Jungkook seethes at that, his thumbs already moving on their own accord to type out a reply he barely has the consciousness to discern. He can’t bring himself to read in between the lines now; now, when he’s apart from you and Hwayoung and there’s neither a husband nor father figure at home, and now, when everything dawns on him that everything that’s happening now is real.

go fuck yourself

Everything in and out of Jungkook’s reach is real. The fight you had two days ago was indeed real, and what reminds him of that is your messages that only detail about Hwayoung and nothing else. Yoongi being h*mself which is an annoyance within its own, is real and is proved by the laughing reaction that he only attached to Jungkook’s very genuine, very offensive profanity.

Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to entertain the possibility that Yoongi’s only messing with him as per usual. He doesn’t have the energy to detangle the complicated knots in his mind that all point to him being the reason for his own undoing.

The only energy that your husband has at the moment is to switch apps, regulate his breathing, and head straight to the live footage from the security camera in Hwayoung’s room. Jungkook feels sane again (maybe even the feeling greater than contentment, but not more than happiness) when he sees the two of you pop up on screen, your laughs immediately drowning out the blaring music.

“My pretty girls,” he mumbles under his breath, his thumb twitching to switch between apps again and finally have the courage to actually talk to you about what happened and not just fawn over how Hwayoung’s breezing through her milestones while he’s been gone.

He hasn’t had anything to drink yet, and while he’s relieved at that, there’s a sense of cowardice that creeps up in Jungkook’s throat. He feels pathetic and unsurprisingly, characteristically weak when it comes to you.

Your husband settles for pushing the button that makes the security camera ding, indicating that he’s indeed watching you and Hwayoung, before he screws his eyes shut in fear that you’ll only scowl at him through the screen.

You don’t.

Instead, you only smile lightly. You’re tired and you’re filled with pent-up sentiments because you can’t exactly gossip to Hwayoung how her dad has been frustrating you to no end lately, and yet, you still smile for him because she’s watching.

There’s a knot that forms in his throat when you prop Hwayoung in front of the camera and coo at her to wave because he’s watching. There’s this unmistakeable sting behind Jungkook’s eyes because he’s reminded yet again that everything’s real; that unlike him, you’re not weak. 

You’re filled with so much love as evidenced by the way you look at Hwayoung with no fear at all of messing everything up, and it makes Jungkook choke over nothing. You have your fears too, but not one of them comes close to the degree that his doubts are in — perhaps you do have a fear of losing everything just like he does, except the resounding difference is that you’re not a coward like him.

Namjoon’s jostled him atleast three times for the past ten minutes and he’ll succumb to his friend sooner or later, but not now when Jungkook rethinks every word he’s ever said and how he misspoke, not now when he’s made the mistake of even calling Eunsu as his muse when he can’t even grasp the weight of the word when he calls someone else that in front of his wife.

Jungkook’s still a coward, with or without a drink, but he’s in the latter state when he brings out his other phone to finally call you.

He sees you flinch silently through the security camera, gaze averting from a napping Hwayoung on your lap to your phone that’s ringing. You purse your lips in hesitation yet you don’t quiver, accepting his call but not without looking straight at the camera before you do.

You’re neither unattached nor resigned with Jungkook — you’re simply stuck in the middle with him, even if the demarcation about who gets the shorter end of the stick is unclear.

“I didn’t mean anything I said last night,” he admits straightly, sparing no time as his chest tightens.

“You sounded like it,” you frown, absent-mindedly stroking Miso’s fur who just conjured out of nowhere at the exact time your husband called you.

“At the time, yes,” he sighs heavily, the knot in his throat refusing to unravel even if he’s already baring his truth. “But at that time too, I was beyond stupid a-and emotional. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I know me being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse,” Jungkook swallows, his hand cupping the air instead of a shot glass reminding him of his stupidity. “I was out of it. I couldn’t keep everything in check.”

Your voice remains hushed, but you don’t have it in you to discern if it’s only because Hwayoung is sleeping on your lap, or if talking to Jungkook lately robs you of your will to be on the same level as him.

“You could’ve told me as soon as you felt… that way, Jungkook.”

He sucks in a breath, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries not to cry rethinking about your fight. “I did try to, but as soon as you did, you asked me if taking care of Hwayoung felt like a chore to me.”

“Does it?” you ask again, ironically coinciding with Jungkook’s point that it makes him chuckle lightly. You were always so stubborn — almost always similar to his temperament.

“I respect you a lot, Y/N. You put a roof over over our heads, you put food on the table, you have everything figured out.”

“Jungkook,” you mumble, sensing the inevitable conjunction that separates the both of you further.

“But I’m the one who knows what I’m feeling the most, not you,” Jungkook sighs shakily, voice hushed even quieter than the way you look at him silently through the screen. 

He can see you, but you can’t see him. 

“We’re both parents to Hwayoung at the end of the day but in that— in that same day, you spend more time being the working parent while I’m the stay-at-home parent,” he confides, his tone gentle and slow unlike the way his drunken nature persuaded him otherwise. “Taking care of Young-ie isn’t a chore for me. Yes, it’s repetitive. I-it could be exhausting and draining but that’s what it comes with being a dad. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s with her. I’m bound to feel this way,” he pauses, breath hitching. “I’m not asking you to forgive me right away for all the shit I said. I’ve been unfair springing all of this on you on such short notice.”

You look straight at the camera, bottom lip quivering as you wrap your head around Jungkook’s sober vulnerability.

“I’ve been unfair too,” you mutter, eyes downcast because even if you can’t see Jungkook, there’s a false image of him that floats in your mind, belittling you for not being enough. “I didn’t see it from your point of view.”

There’s only silence between the two of you, the noise of the club being expertly drowned out even through the distortion of the line.

“You can forgive me tomorrow or next week, even— but the sooner the better, of course,” Jungkook chides playfully after a few seconds, smiling to himself when he visibly sees the tension melt away from your shoulders.

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance, baby. Give me a little leeway,” Jungkook pleads, in between light chuckles and strained desperation that an honest, sober husband like him could give to you while you’re long-distance. “Give me a little time to figure out a balance. I-I can’t be the best husband and dad that I want— need to be if I can’t figure myself out.”

“I get it,” you nod, your thumb unconsciously adjusting the wedding on your ring finger that’s become slightly askew. “But you promise me that you’ll come home, Jungkook,”

“I promise.”

“You have to promise me too that there’s no one else.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook tuts warningly, his confused frown at you being genuine in nature as if you could see him in real time trying to digest your paranoia. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Promise me,” you repeat again with a short-lived whine, the stirring of Hwayoung on your lap making his heart soften and your call interrupted.

“I promise.”

Jungkook relaxes into his seat, eyes still fixed on the security app on his phone as he watches you rock his daughter to sleep, pointing to the camera every now and then to tell her that her appa’s watching. 

Namjoon and Eunsu come over with drinks, and as much as there’s a momentary wave of relief that washes over Jungkook because he’s seeing familiar people, there’s a dubiously-coated type of tension that replaces the knot on his throat.

“Ah, my pretty producer,” Eunsu hands him his drink, looking past the platinum wedding band that Jungkook hadn’t dared to take off even once the whole trip, along with his phone that displays his family in full brightness. “I believe we haven’t met properly.”

[unknownati]

iv. ekko x gn!black!reader hcs

a/n: they got me yall.

sorry for whoever followed me for tlou content we'll be having a brief intermission i'll come back to them in a minute js let me get this out my system 😭🙏🏾

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no mention of reader's features (except for being black, but it's only in a few points 🤷🏾‍♀️ so it can be read otherwise), arcane s2 spoilers (minor), sfw and nsfw hcs, (oral sex, kinks, riding), in some au where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happened 😊, never proofread we ball 🔥

______________________________________________

sfw:

- i feel like ekko is a bit shy (awkward shy though, not shy-shy...does that make sense) when you first get into a relationship with him, and it's just because he's shocked that he's managed to get with you. at first he's stumbling over words, playing off your compliments, desperately trying to keep eye contact with you but if he does he just keeps smiling because you look so good.

-one time, while riding past you on his hoverboard, you waved at him. he waved back, but even as you walked away his eyes kept following you. if it wasn't for scar warning him at the last second, he would've crashed straight into a wall.

- his cockiness comes later into your relationship, every successful action he does followed by a grin that you roll your eyes at.

-and did y'all see the way he looked at powder in ep. 7? his puppy dog eyes are LETHAL.

-he doesn't even know it either. every time he wants something, he just looks at you with those eyes and murmurs "please, ☆?" you fold so quick.

-(you've tried to learn to resist his eyes as they are what caused you to sprain your ankle in a hoverboarding accident since he begged you to race him. he just wanted to show off, too. he didn't stop apologizing for weeks.)

-he usually doesn't really like people touching his hair. he's fine with the kids doing it from time to time, but in general it's not his favorite thing in the world.

-you, however

-you get a pass because you get it. you know how it feels for your hair to just be like a petting zoo from time to time. you know exactly how to help him care for his hair, so much so that he's stopped doing his own retwists. (not like they stay in for very long, you immediately help him sweat it out 😊)

-he's made a lot of random little things for you, like a small chain necklace with an empty locket. he kind of sucks at wrapping gifts though, so he just handed it to you with a stupid smile while you two were perched at the top of the firelight tree.

-"ekko, this is so cute," you mutter, your bottom lip jutted out in adoration as you inspect the delicately crafted chain. small mistakes here and there, but you loved it.

-he also learned how to sew just so he could make you a bonnet/durag. he even sewed a crude little "e" in the corner of it, and made himself one with your initial in it as well.

-will randomly shadow box you out of no where. it's some form of cuteness aggression or something, because you'll be talking about your day while absent-mindedly twiddling with the hem of your shirt, and suddenly there are fists flying towards you that he knows to never let connect.

-"...ekko, the fuck are you doing?"

-he makes small noises that sound like "shoo" every time his fist flies, watching you stare at him with an unimpressed look.

-saw someone else say this but yeah ekko can't hoop. sorry

-he CANNOT hide his facial expressions. he may tell you one thing, but his face will never lie. if you're out eating and you feed him a bite of your food, you can watch his face contort into one of disgust, so much so that he almost looks offended. upon realizing that he doesn't want to yuck your yum, he'll fix his face into the fakest smile you've ever seen and nod.

-"...ekko, go spit it out."

-you've never seen him reach for a napkin any quicker.

-idk who the arcane universe's michael jackson is but, when he was younger he absolutely learned all the dances.

-probably the biggest softie the world has ever seen. he's very tough in public, but once he closes the door behind you two and climbs into bed with you, he's clinging onto you like a sloth.

-if you like painting your nails, he'll (hesitantly) allow you to paint his nails to match yours.

-(these next few ones are sliiightly for me 🤭)

-loves when you draw on his arms.

-until he can't get whatever marker you used off of his skin in the shower, so now he's walking around looking like a coloring book with little flowers, hearts, and signatures on his arms.

-he hangs up all the drawings you make of him up along his work space. sometimes he forgets one and leaves it on his desk, so it's a pleasant surprise to find a drawing of himself among scattered and disorganized papers while he was cleaning up.

-has gotten used to you randomly biting him. you'll come up behind him while he's working, and he already knows it's coming when you rest your chin on his exposed shoulder. 2 seconds later, your teeth are sinking into his skin. he just chuckles, but he does ask once.

-"why do you do that?"

-"oh, i dunno. i just like doing it. 's how you know i like you."

nsfw (very brief i'm sorry):

-praise kink. you couldn't tell me otherwise

-loves giving praise, loves receiving praise.

-when he's giving you head, he almost does it for his own pleasure. feeling your hand rub against his undercut while you whine and mutter "fuuuck, ekko, you're so good. don't stop please" is all he needs

-and i'm glad we've all agreed he's a thigh guy too 🙌🏾

-and IK we say this about every fictional man but HE WHIMPERS.

-he starts off with groans and grunts, but the closer he gets, the more his voice starts to shake and his words start to become whines.

-he looooves when you ride him holy shit

-looking up at you while your face contorts in pleasure is absolutely on his top 10.

-and if you stare into his eyes while you do it? his soul has left thanks!

-in general he loves eye contact. when you look up at him with his length between your lips, you can see his brain start to short-circuit.

-he's definitely the type to make sure you finish first before he even gets to think about his own pleasure.

-he's usually super sleepy afterwards too, but he refuses to lay down for a second until he makes sure you're all cleaned up and comfortable before he's out cold on your chest.

______________________________________________

[puckinghischier]

Shadow Puppets

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader is terrified of storms, but Nico makes sure she never has to brave them alone

notes: hi!! long time no see! this is a little self indulgent, not gonna lie. i started this last week when some pretty gnarly storms were coming through my town and i struggled finishing it because, surprise, i was scared 🫣. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

[3.3k]

~

Storms have never been something that you enjoyed. You don’t understand the appeal of the angry rumbles and blinding flashes that litter the sky during a thunderstorm.

Ever since you were a little girl storms have been high on your fear list. Anytime you saw the purplish-gray of the sky, you were doing everything in your power to drown out the incoming storm.

Much like you were right now. You had just turned a movie on in the living room, volume high enough that you worried your upstairs neighbors could hear. Every curtain in the apartment was drawn closed, preventing you from seeing any flash of lightning that would dance across the dark sky.

Your last line of defense was usually white noise being played through a speaker on low volume to further try and drown out the rumbles that are starting to sound closer by the second. Well, it will be your last line of defense, if you could just find the wireless speaker.

It wasn’t in its normal spot in the kitchen junk drawer, nor was it in the bathroom. It wasn’t in your boyfriend’s practice bag, knowing he sometimes takes it to the rink with him when he hits the gym after a morning skate.

You had looked in both your bedroom and the spare room, the guest bathroom, the hallway closet, the various shelves around the living room, in-between the couch cushions, and you had even braved stepping out onto your small balcony to search for it before rushing back inside after a particularly bright flash of lightning.

It was nowhere to be found.

While you were on all fours on the floor trying to see if it had somehow rolled under the couch, you heard the familiar chime of your ringtone coming from the table behind you, startling you a bit.

Seeing your boyfriend’s name flash on the screen, you pick up the phone immediately, speaking a small hello into the device just as an especially loud crack of thunder rings out.

“Hey, Schatz. You okay? Just heard the storm outside, knew you were home alone and wanted to check on you during intermission. Got all of your safety nets in place?” Nico’s worried voice hurries out, slightly out of breath.

The Devils were hosting a charity scrimmage tonight, the proceeds going to a local youth hockey program. Nico had offered for you to come and watch, but you had been wanting to catch up on the reality shows he always complained about watching with you. When he left a few hours earlier, the sky was blue and there were no clouds to be seen.

You didn’t regret your decision until thirty minutes ago when your phone started blaring an alarm with a severe storm warning alert.

“Yeah, I’m okay for right now. Have a movie on and the curtains are closed. I can’t find the speaker, though. Do you remember where you last saw it?” you ask him, placing the phone on speaker so you can continue to search.

“Oh Schatz, I’m so sorry,” Nico starts, regret joining the worry in his tone. “I have the speaker with me. Put it in my game bag this morning. Went and got a few reps in the gym in before warm-ups today. I didn’t look at the forecast before I left, I didn’t know you’d need it.”

Your stomach drops at his confession, your anxiety spiking. You needed the speaker in order to fully drown out the thunder. It was something you and your mom had come up with when you were a kid to help you sleep if it was storming at night. You hadn’t tried to get through a storm without the technique since.

“It’s…it’s okay, Neeks. Really. I’ll be fine,” you start, trying to hide the anxious quiver of your voice. “It’s just a little-“ your sentence gets interrupted by a boom of thunder so loud you could feel the vibrations from the floor you were currently kneeled on.

Nico’s guilt only increases at the yelp you let out, his heart breaking further when he hears the whimper you tried to hide afterwards.

“Y/N are you sure you’re okay? I can try to see if Nicole can come over for a bit? Jesper said she stayed home, too. Or I can send someone to come get you and bring you here if you want?” he offers, hating the fact you’re in the apartment alone.

“No, it’s okay. It’ll probably be over by then, anyways, right?” you ask, needing the reassurance that it was only a short storm.

“Yeah, baby, I’m sure it’s almost over. Just turn the tv up and grab your weighted blanket. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out, another low rumble coming from the world outside.

“I love you, okay? I’ll call again to check on you next intermission. Be home before you know it, Schatz.”

“Love you too, Neeks. Play safe,” you tell him before hanging up the phone.

You take his advice and find the weighted blanket he bought you last year after a particularly nasty storm had come through when he was away on a roadie.

He read online that the pressure could help comfort people during anxiety inducing moments, so he had one delivered to your shared apartment the next day. You were extremely thankful for it, especially in moments like this, but nothing can replace having Nico here with you to comfort you during an especially rough storm.

You were trying really hard to focus on the movie, having raised the volume even more to supplement the loss of the noise from the speaker, but the noises from the storm outside only got louder and louder.

You could hear the wind whipping around the tall building you were in, adding a whole new layer to your current distress. Checking your phone constantly, you knew it was still only a severe storm, no further warnings had been issued, but you were starting to get worried the bad weather was here to stay.

Resorting to laying on the couch with eyes closed and hands over your ears to muffle the sounds, your fear had reached its peak. You felt embarrassed, wondering why you couldn’t just find comfort in the harsh weather like a normal person. Instead, you were laying on your couch in a fetal position with your hands covering your ears as a grown woman.

Another intense crack infiltrated your apartment, causing your shaking body to jump, eyes snapping open. Just as you were able to calm your racing heart, you were suddenly covered in darkness.

It felt like someone had just dumped ice water all over your body, every nerve alert with fear. You sat completely still, waiting for the warm lights to flicker back on.

The longer you sat waiting, the worse you felt.

There was no way you could survive this storm with no power. There was nothing to block out the wind and thunder. There was nothing to lessen the bright flashes of light through the curtains. You were so paralyzed by fear you couldn’t even make the short trek to the kitchen to grab a flashlight or light the various candles littered throughout the apartment.

While debating with yourself about if you were going to be brave enough to get up off the couch and walk through the dark apartment, you heard the lock on your front door unlock with a click.

Every movement in your body stopped, including the rise and fall of your chest. You held your breath and sat as still as you could, more petrified with fear than you had ever been before.

Who was coming into your apartment in the middle of a storm like this? The only other people with keys were Nico and your landlord. One of those people was in the middle of a hockey game twenty minutes away.

A new wave of fear washed over you. What if it was your landlord coming in because he had to evacuate the building? Was the storm that bad? It sounded that bad, but you were always a terrible judge at what classified a storm as bad.

Any storm was bad to you. The slightest rumble of thunder had you wanting to dive under the nearest table like a child.

The door creaked open, squeaky footsteps making their way into your apartment. You continued to lay there, unmoving.

“Schatz? You in here?” you heard a familiar accent call out, all tension in your body disappearing at the sound.

Your body springs up into a sitting position, turning your head to look behind the couch, the sight in front of you almost causing relieved tears to well in your eyes.

Nico stood by the closed door, hanging his dripping jacket on one of the many hooks on the wall in front of him. His soaking wet hair was adding to the puddle on the floor left by his jacket.

He was wearing a pair of athletic shorts and one of his Devils hoodies, the latter only slightly drier than the jacket he had just removed.

He shook out his hair, making you bite back a giggle at how he resembled a dog shaking out its fur, before looking up and seeing your alert eyes peeking over the couch at him.

“Oh, Schatz, are you okay?” he sighed as he made his way over to you.

His socks audibly squished as he rounded the end of the couch, coming to crouch before you.

He took your hands in his own, making you flinch at how cold they were.

Bringing his lips down to blow onto your intertwined hands, he mumbles out a “M’sorry, I wasn’t here, pretty girl.”

You meet his eyes through his wet eyelashes, admiring how pretty he looks right now, brain still catching up to the fact he’s here.

Staring at him while he warms his hands with your own, you remember that he was supposed to still be at the charity game right now, having only called you at the beginning of the first intermission not even thirty minutes ago.

As soon as you open your mouth to question him, you were reminded of the reason for your current state.

A blinding flash of light illuminates the dark apartment, thunder rumbling almost immediately after.

Slamming your eyes shut to try to block the sight, you try to move your hands to your ears once again, but they’re still clutched between both of Nico’s.

You feel the couch next to you sink underneath his body weight, his arms moving to come around your shoulders as he hugs your body into his.

His hand moves up and down your arm in a soothing motion, a small “shhh” coming out of his mouth as his lips rest against your temple.

“You’re safe, darling. You’re alright. I’m here,” he says softly on repeat, working you through the moment of panic.

You allow your body to sink into his, reveling in the comfort that his presence brings you.

“That’s it, just relax. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright?”

After several minutes of relishing Nico’s presence, you finally lean back and put a small amount of distance between the two of you.

He moves his hands to smooth down your hair and cup your face, tilting your head up so he can look into your eyes and make sure you’re okay.

As you give him a small smile, he leans forward and places a kiss first on the tip of your nose and then moves his lips up to rest on your forehead.

He pulls back, leaving your face trapped in-between his hands, speaking softly.

“Power went out, didn’t it, Schatz?”

You simply nodded, finding it hard to speak with your cheeks squished.

He starts rubbing his thumbs back and forth on your cheeks, “Scared you when it went out, huh? That why you look so startled when I came in?”

You nodded again, starting to feel a little silly with the chipmunk cheeks he’s caused you to have.

“Well, let’s go fix that, shall we?” Nico finally removes his hands from your face, standing up and reaching his hand out to help you stand from the couch.

He leads you into the kitchen, stopping at the drawer that holds a lighter and flashlights for occasions like this one. He grabs two flashlights out of the drawer, turning one on and handing it to you.

Taking his own flashlight, he turns it on and immediately places it directly under his chin, pulling a face in the shadow of the light coming from the plastic.

His actions cause you to giggle, rolling your eyes at how childish your big, ‘scary’ hockey player can be.

“There she is. Knew I could get that cute little laugh out of you,” he beams, proud of his success.

He grabs the lighter and takes your hand once again, leading you around to every candle you have placed around the apartment. You hold the flashlights as he lights each candle until every last one is lit and the apartment is bathed in golden light once again.

The two of you end up back on the couch sharing your weighted blanket as Nico becomes your buffer to the storm outside. You sit with your head resting against his chest for a little while before you remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be here right now.

You raise your head up and sit back, situating yourself so you’re halfway facing him while still being tucked into his side.

“You’re not supposed to be here right now.”

Nico moves his head back and looks at you like you’re crazy.

“What?” he says through a chuckle, amused at how random you words were.

“I mean, you’re supposed to be at the charity game right now. You called me during the first intermission, you should be playing in the third period by now,” you explain your outburst.

Nico laughs, shaking his head. “For a second I got worried you were about to kick me out, Schatz.”

“Nico, I’m being serious,” you roll your eyes. “Why did you leave the game early? Is everything okay at the rink? Did the storm damage something?”

Nico looks over at you, a fond smile on his face.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” is all he says in response, bringing a finger up to stroke from your temple down to your chin.

You move your head away from his hand and scoff, annoyed at his avoidance.

“Nico…” you warn.

He sighs, knowing you’re not going to be happy with his answer.

“I left early.”

“You…left early?” you parrot his words back to him, unimpressed.

“Yes, I left early. I told them there was an emergency here and I needed to get home to you, so I left,” he explains, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “It was just a charity game, anyways. We were playing against our own guys, not like it was anything they couldn’t do without me.”

You fully remove yourself from him and sit back on your heels. He frowns at the loss of contact as he readjusts himself to sit up straighter.

“Nico, you can’t just leave a game like that!” you scold him. “Think about how excited those kids were to see you play tonight. The fact that it was a charity game should have made it even more important.”

You cross your arms, glaring at him for how bad this could make him look.

“Y/N, you were here, alone, during a raging storm. When I called, I could feel how scared you were through the phone. I knew as soon as the lights flickered at the arena, I couldn’t leave you here by yourself,” he explained, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You argued anyways.

“Nico, think about how bad this could make you look. ‘Devils captain leaves charity game early because his girlfriend is a scaredy-cat and can’t stay by herself during a silly little thunderstorm’” you put on your best sportscaster voice for the last sentence.

It was Nico’s turn to roll his eyes at you, shaking his head at your words.

“First of all, don’t count on a job with ESPN anytime soon,” you swat at his chest. “Second of all, I appreciate your concern about my image and my job, but I don’t care.”

“You should! You should care, Nico. You’re the captain. You need to care more than anyone else,” you cry out at him.

Nico grabs your hands in midair as you wave them around to emphasize your words.

“Schatz, I. Don’t. Care.” He pauses, trying to let the words sink in. “You know why I don’t care? Because you will always come first, do you hear me?”

Your mouth snaps shut, the intensity of the way he’s looking at you making you still.

“My job is just a game. It will always be just a game. A game that I’m thankful that I get to play every day, don’t get me wrong, but at the end of every day, it’s just a game.” He pauses again, making sure you understand him.

You don’t even flinch at the thunder that rings out around you, too caught up in the moment that’s happening between you and Nico right now.

“You, my pretty girl, are not a game. You’re the absolute best thing that has ever, and will ever, happen to me. You’re the biggest priority in my life, not hockey. I could quit hockey tomorrow and be just fine as long as I still have you to come home to every day. You’re the one thing I can’t lose. So yeah, I don’t care if I’m missing a scrimmage right now. They don’t need me. You did. So, here I am, exactly where I’m ‘supposed to be’” he mocks your earlier statement.

By the end of his speech you have tears in your eyes, not because of the storm this time.

You smile at him, an emotional tear slipping down your cheek, Nico’s hand reach out to wipe it away before you could wiggle one of your own from his hold.

“I love you, you know that?” you tell him, leaning your cheek into his open palm. “But you’re still stupid for leaving the game early,” you add at the end.

“Love you more, Schatz. Always.” He responds with a slight chuckle, ignoring the second part of what you said, bringing your face to his.

Your lips meet in a sweet, loving kiss. You rest your foreheads against one another before Nico pulls back, dropping his hand from your face.

“Now, I do believe we have some powerless entertainment to partake in,” he tells you, wiggling his eyebrows at your suggestively.

You lean in towards him once again, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh…Yeah” he leans back in, his hot breath fanning on your face with his words.

You catch his arm moving out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to remove your gaze from his face to find out what he was doing.

The staring contest the two of you had going on was starting to make you squirm when you hear a click ring out from in-between your bodies, light erupting through what little space is there.

You look down to see one of the flashlights from earlier in his hand, a cheeky grin on his face. Looking back up, you give him a confused look.

“It’s time for shadow puppets!” he excitedly bursts, moving the flashlight to shine on the wall, holding up his pointer and middle fingers to make a shadow bunny on the wall.

You burst out into belly laughs, body falling over his, head landing in his lap.

“C’mon, now, get up, its your turn,” he sits you up, handing you the flashlight.

As you look over at Nico, an expectant look on his face, you suddenly don’t care if it storms all night and the power never comes back on. As long as Nico’s with you, nothing could ruin the happiness running through your veins in this moment.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

For the birth denial asks, what about going to a play or performance and you're in labor the whole time, but you're sucking it up because it's your partners birthday and they really wanted to see it, but your water breaks/ you feel the urge to push just after the last intermission ends

Anon!!!! You beautiful person! This is my fav thing ever and I swear I’ve submitted this exact request to other birth fic writers on here before I started doing my own. So so happy to have gotten this ask. Thank you!!!!

Theatre Birth

We had booked the tickets a year ago; it was a limited run at our local theatre, guest starring our favourite actress, and it just happened to coincide with your birthday. We simply had to get tickets to see this play. So I offered to buy the tickets and we could make a celebratory night of it.

But then I got pregnant.

We completely forgot about the show with all the excitement of the pregnancy, until about two weeks beforehand when we received the tickets in the post. It was awfully close to my due date. You offered to cancel the tickets, or see if we could resell them, but we were both still desperately excited to see this limited performance while we could. I assured you I still wanted to go, it was your birthday treat and we would be fine. First babies are never early.

I didn’t tell you about the braxton hicks contractions that plagued me the day before, or the fact I’d lost my mucus plug that morning. You were too excited; it was your birthday, you had a baby on the way and you would be seeing your favourite actress that evening. I couldn’t spoil your joy, especially not for false and practice labour pains. I just had to ride them out and let you enjoy your day. I’d tell you tomorrow.

I’d managed to hide the grimaces of pain throughout the day, but when we got to the theatre the cramps were coming at such regular intervals I was forced to consider this might actually be the real thing. But we were here now and labour took hours before there would be any need to go to the hospital, so I didn’t say anything. You pulled my arm eagerly through the theatre, excitement sparkling in your eyes for this evening’s performance. Holding my heavy bump, I plastered on my best smile and waddled behind you to find the row with our seats.

The old theatre seats were upholstered in a rough red velvet that itched the backs on my legs and the size of the seats were not designed with pregnant people in mind. Needless to say I was far from comfortable. You flicked through the programme and opened your box of sweets, in a world of your own as we waited for the show to start. I shifted in my seat and rubbed the ache in my lower belly, my bump spread over the tops of my legs because the seat was too narrow to allow it to fully sit between my thighs as it usually did. Another contraction struck and I hissed through my teeth but at the same time the music started abruptly so my flinch was left unnoticed.

I’d thought seeing the play would be a great distraction from the aches and twinges, but as the waves of pain crashed with more and more intensity I couldn’t pay attention to what was happening on stage. The seat was agonisingly uncomfortable, I was sweating in my outfit, and I was regretting all my choices that had led me here. After a long hour and a half Act One eventually finished. You helped me up out of the low chair so I could make a quick dash to the toilet, with the baby so big and so active I was surprised I’d lasted the duration of the first act.

There was a long line for ladies, standard in the small theatre, but as I felt the telltale cramping of the next contraction I pulled the pregnancy card and skipped ahead of the queue. I just felt so full; my belly was tight, the baby was low, and there was so much pressure. I panted silently through the contraction as I sat on the toilet and just as it was coming to an end I felt something give and a splash echoed from the porcelain.

Oh my god, that was my waters… I thought to myself.

I sat there, a little in shock, breathing slowly to calm myself. It's okay. I’ll just clean myself up, head back to our seats to tell you, and then we could make a quick and subtle exit before the play resumed. By the time I had exited the bathroom and awkwardly shuffled along the row to get back to our seats the lights in the theatre were already starting to dim - the next Act was beginning. You offered a hand to help me get back into the chair and I don’t know why but I took it and sat back down on the itchy seat. The music started before I could tell you my waters had just broken, with everyone around us back in their assigned seats all sitting in the dark and facing the bright lights of the stage. Now completely stuck in the middle of a row I couldn’t bring myself to tell you - we couldn’t get leave now, it would mean asking about 15 people to move in order to allow my heavy and labouring body to exit the row and attracting all manner of unwanted attention. Rubbing my contracting belly, I took a deep breath. I just had to get through act two and then you and I could head straight for the hospital after the play. Everything would be fine.

~•~

It was not fine.

Without the cushioning of my waters the baby’s head was rammed against my dilating cervix. The contractions were hitting me every few minutes and I was surprised I hadn’t yet cried out from the pain. I tried to do little things to ease the pain, shifting in my seat or rubbing my belly, but the movement seemed to attract the annoyed glances from people around us. If I just stayed still and breathed through the pain, I was sure I could make it through. Occasionally you’d glance at me, checking I was enjoying the show, and I tried my best to smile through my gritted teeth.

But everything changed when the need to push presented itself. I pulled a sudden sharp gasp and my eyes widened with panic. You softly turned to look at me and your face fell at seeing the pained and panicked expression on mine.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You whispered in my ear.

“Hooo- nothing…” I breathed quietly, ignoring all my body’s cues that I might need to start pushing.

You placed a hand on my bump and felt the solid and tense surface beneath your fingers. “Are you having contractions?”

“I’m fine… hoooo… just- hold my hand.” I said, determined not to make a scene or attract attention.

Grabbing your hand I turned back to the stage, signalling you to do the same. I could do this, it wouldn’t be much longer and then we can leave quietly. Just breathe and don’t push, I told myself.

I managed to make it through half a dozen more contractions, breathing steadily and squeezing your hand whenever they hit. I could see in my peripheral vision your head turning anxiously towards me whenever I gripped your hand tight. The play felt like it was dragging on and on and on. Surely it had to end soon. The next contraction began to seize, I took a deep breath and released it slowly through the pain but the pressure was quickly building to astronomical heights. I was biting my lips to stop myself making any noise but the occasional whimper slipped through. Without control or permission I felt my body suddenly push. My fingers curled around your hand, my nails digging deep into your skin as I beared down.

Your head snapped towards me and saw my face scrunched and my chin on my chest.

“Oh my god are you pushing?!?!” You stuttered.

I could only gulp a breath as my body pushed again. The baby was right there and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My legs parted instinctively as I slumped in the chair and lifted my knees. I could feel my lips start to open, forced apart as the head pushed its way out. And yet I remained silent, with only the occasional muted grunt sounding from my throat from a baby that was desperate to be born.

“Stop… y-you can’t be pushing. You’re not in labour… are you?” You were frazzled, unsure what to do. The performers were still on stage, the show continuing, unaware of the new life that was soon to enter the world.

I let go of your hand and scrambled to pull the fabric of my dress up. Diving beneath the clothing I put a hand between my thighs and I felt through my underwear the large round shape of the baby’s head poking out. “Fuck….” I gritted under my breath.

Unable to fully speak or explain, I just grabbed your hand and placed it on the partially crowned head. “Baby’s-coming…mnghhhhhh….” I grunted and succumbed to another push, bearing down uncontrollably with a primal need to birth right here right now.

People around us were starting to notice, but I could pay them no mind. The baby slipped further and further out with every push, filling your hand that had remained between my legs. The full crown was reached in a matter of agonising seconds and then with a sudden loud grunt the head popped out.

It was only then I became aware of the silence and the fact the people on stage had halted their performance and were staring.

[dwntwn-strnlo]

jackass. [m.st.]

── ⟡˙ ̟ hockey!matthew sturniolo x gn!reader

↳ synopsis. — matt gets into a fight while on the ice

↳ a/n. — getting all my female rage out in this fic bc of ex pookie

↳ requested? — no

↳ cw. — really long, tuff guy matt, profanity, physical fighting, mentions of blood/scarring, slight angst, "y/n" used, verbal argument, un resolved ending (sorry lily 🫶)

"you can't expect to get everything you want, y/n."

"all i expect is for you to not be a fucking jackass."

running your hand through your hair, you began growing nervous. you can see that matt was growing more and more agitated the longer he was on the ice, and luckily chris had caught on enough to the point where he kept looking at you curiously.

once you got a text from nick, whom was currently in the locker room had he just gotten off the ice, you knew you and chris weren't going crazy simultaneously. he had asked you if you knew what was up, and that matt had supposedly been perfectly fine before the game.

watching matt carefully as he runs across the ice, he steals the puck and heads for the goal. finally relaxing, you stand up along with the rest of the crowd, fueling on excitement for your boyfriend.

as he nears an appropriate spot to shoot, his feet get kicked out from under him. luckily he catches himself, but he lost the puck. his eyes grow wide when he finds the kid on the opposing team who illegally knocked matt over, taking the puck back.

you started to panic as matt started to panic. it looked as if his mind was racing and then flatlined in the matter of a second. not processing it as he skates up to the kid in red, body checking him to the ice.

it takes seconds for matt to land on top of him, punching him in the nose and dripping blood onto the ice. he's only able to land one punch before chris is pulling him back up to his feet. it takes everything in matt not to push off his brother in fear that he'd get dragged into the fight.

chris drags matt back several feet, trying to get him to cool off. but the kid with the last name miraz stitched on the back comes flying forward, blood dripping down his nose and rage painted on his face.

he throws a punch to matts cheek, cutting it quick enough to hit him again in the nose before the ref pulls him back.

"matthew sturniolo, 5 minute penalty for fighting." the ref calls out over the speakers. "cameron miraz, 5 minute penalty for fighting. 2 more for instigating."

"fuck." you whispered to yourself. not sure whether or not you should be pissed or concerned. eyeing the clock, you find that intermission is in a short time, so you believe that'll be your nearest chance to talk to matt.

matt skates over to the penalty box, face still hot in anger. he pulls his helmet off and drops his head back before looking ahead again. finding chris pointing his pointer finger at him, clearly annoyed, but still washed with concern for his brother. you can't distinguish what words hes using to scold matt, but you can tell it pisses him off.

you can't seem to keep your eyes on the ice for the rest of the period, your eyes stuck on the coffee-haired boy with his arms crossed over his chest.

soon enough he's let back out on the ice, though there's only a minute and a half left. you can tell his body is less frustrated, but it doesn't shake the fact that he just hit someone.

as the clock hits its final seconds, you stand up, walking down to the locker rooms to wait impatiently for you boyfriend to enter.

as the buzzer sounds, the team starts flooding in heading off into the locker room for intermission. looking seemingly defeated by the currently tied game. this game could go either way, and that's leaving them on edge.

matt's one of the last people off the ice, following closely behind chris in silence. chris meets your eyes with a shrug before disappearing into the locker room.

you're quick to grab matt, pulling him towards you-carefully as he still has his blades on.

there's still dried, as well as slightly fresh blood on his face from where he was hit in the nose and on his cheekbone. you figured that one would scar if he didn't get it taken care of soon. his emotions looked mix, leaving you struggling to figure out what he's thinking.

"matt." your murmured, trying to get his light blue eyes to meet yours. "hey, look at me." your voice was low and demanding, but you couldn't help but let it stay laced with panic.

his eyes slowly meet yours, his lips pressed in a firm line. he doesn't want to talk, and normally you'd respect that but right now you're worried and pissed and just want to make sure that he's okay.

"what's your problem?" you bit, crossing your arms over your chest.

matt looked taken back, astonished even that you came at him like that. "what are you talking about." he furrowed his brows, eyes finally glued on yours.

"baby this is your third fight this season, they're going to fucking suspend you." you sounded harsh, but you felt as if it was necessary in the moment to try and knock some sense into him.

he crossed his arms too, mirroring your image. "why do you care if i get suspended? that's not going to effect you."

letting out a breath of air, you squeezed your eyes shut for several seconds. "because you're my boyfriend, and i love and care about you." you mumbled, "i know that getting suspended would effect you, and i don't want to see you in a position like that."

"you can't expect to get everything you want, y/n." he whispered, his voice dropping significantly. struggling to find a place in his heart to argue with you about this.

"all i expect is for you to not be a fucking jackass." you snapped.

matt's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing. trying to find the right words to say. he suddenly felt small under your hot gaze, though he was significantly larger in his hockey equipment.

pressing your lips together in a line, you started to feel bad, but you still had a point to get across. "i don't know what happened today, but you're at the point where you need to learn to walk away and be the bigger person." you said, trying to meet his eyes again, which now dart around the hall. looking everywhere but you.

"he fucking tripped me." he mumbled, looking at your for a single second.

"so?" you queried. "you play hockey for gods sake. you get tripped all the time."

he squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a breath of air before looking at you again. "i'm not gonna stand here and listen to you beat down on me." he said, his voice wary. "if you don't wrap it up i'm going back and we can talk about this later." he hushed, gesturing to the locker room.

staying silent, you try thinking about what to say. clearly he doesn't want to listen to you right now, and you want to respect that. you stare at him intently, eyes drifting down to the still slightly bleeding gash on his cheek.

"get that cleaned up, and good luck with the rest of the game." you mumbled, waiting for a response before you walk off.

matt nods, and you step away, nearing the corner when he speaks up. "i love you, baby." he says.

"i love you too..." you turn your head to look at him, mumbling the same words back before disappearing around the corner.

TAGLIST

@thetriplets3 @stxrniqlo @ifilwtmfc @iha8you @oneirophobic @20nugs @gracietaylorsversions @fenoy7 @mlimmm @prettysturniolo @ssturniolo @gabbylovesreading @oh-toseewithoutmy-eyes @matthewmurdockswife @jellybeanbby @slaysturniolo @iheartshifting @mxqdii @luvsturniolo @lvrsparadise @partoftoofuckinmanyfandoms

[steddieas-shegoes]

back in the crease

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'traffic'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

special thank you to @thisapplepielife who discovered the ebug hero david ayers last week and said "bear hugs steve would" and you're so right! i had to combine it with another ebug situation that happened recently in the hockey world to make it fit the prompt.

rated t | 939 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, fluff, goalie steve harrington

🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅

Steve didn’t ever think he’d get a call when he applied for the job. There were three others on the list last he checked.

So much had to go wrong for him to get called.

Apparently, so much went wrong.

And now, he’s stuck in traffic during a snowstorm, trying to get to a game that starts in less than ten minutes so he can dress to be the backup goalie. Providence isn’t an easy drive even in the best of conditions, and these are far from the best of conditions.

Eddie is home with Rory, even though they desperately wanted to come. Steve told them there was no way they were risking the roads with him this late.

He’s glad he insisted.

He’s been at a dead stop for 20 minutes and it doesn’t seem like he’ll be moving any time soon.

He glances to the backseat, where he’s thrown his hockey bag and sticks, in too much of a rush at home to bother taking Rory’s stuff out of the trunk first. He’s not even sure if he remembered to pack everything after the last practice session he went to for Rory.

He looks ahead at the cars in park along the side of the road, the ones in front of him in the same position, and he makes a decision. It may not be a smart one, but it’s the only one he knows to make.

He unbuckles and turns his hazard lights on, shutting off the car. He sees someone a few cars ahead doing the same. This is crazy.

The craziest thing he’s done since signing up to do this.

He steps out and grabs his sticks and bag from the backseat.

He locks the car.

And he starts walking.

Three miles is not going to be pleasant, and with all his stuff on his shoulder, he’s not sure he’s gonna make it in time. But he has to try.

The snowfall isn’t heavy, but the roads weren’t salted in time, and people who haven’t been prepared for winter are holding up the people who are. It’s the same every year, but usually he can avoid long drives.

He spends the first mile power walking, and he can hear people shouting at him, but he’s ignoring them. Steve is focused on the one goal: get to the game.

The second mile is harder, and he has to pause a couple times to adjust his bag and take a few deep breaths. He stays in shape at the gym, but he doesn’t want to use up all his energy walking to this game, especially if he ends up in the net.

He thinks his phone is going off in his pocket, but he doesn’t have time or enough hands to check it.

The last mile is easier because someone has managed to clear most of the left lane of cars. No more weaving between trucks and vans, just a mostly straight shot. People are cheering for him, probably recording him. He doesn’t care.

He just has to get there.

He does. He’s late, but he makes it.

They rush him to the locker room to change and he misses most of the first intermission because they don’t want him going to the bench when the puck’s in play. He’s borrowing a jersey and it’s a little too small over his gear, but he doesn’t think he’s even gonna have to get on the ice, so it’s fine.

Except halfway through the second, the goalie gets a puck to the neck. At first, he seems like he shakes it off, like the shock got him more than the actual pain of the shot. But then he calls for a switch and the coach pats Steve’s back and he’s back on the ice.

It’s not Boston, so it’s not quite the same, but it’s close enough. It’s the colors, and it’s the atmosphere. It’s the same type of Bruins pride he had for such a short time, that meant the world to him, that gave him so much happiness in the time he had.

He doesn’t let himself get emotional until after they win, though.

Luckily, the Providence Bruins are a pretty defensive-minded team, and he only faced eight shots the entire third period. He saved them all.

Helmet taps, cheering, stick taps, and then he’s back in the locker room. He’s sore, but he thinks it’s more from walking three miles to get here than the game.

He gets first star of the game.

Eddie’s calling him as he’s unlacing his skates and he answers because that’s more important than whatever plans the guys have after this win.

“Rory is right here, so I can’t say what I’m really thinking, but I think you need to hurry home,” Eddie is talking fast and Steve is flushed red from the implications.

“Well, hopefully my car is still where I left it,” Steve says.

“Dad!” Rory steals the phone. “That glove save at the end was so good, you didn’t even have to try, it was like…like…natural!”

Steve laughs. “Thanks, green bean. It’s way past your bedtime, though.”

“But I wanna stay up until you get home.”

“It could be morning before I’m home. I’ll be there when you wake up, okay?”

“Fiiiiine,” Rory says and passes the phone back to Eddie.

“I’m serious. You need to hurry home.”

Eddie hangs up and Steve opens the Uber app. Hopefully his car is fine, and traffic should be better by now, but if not, he may have to spend a few hundred dollars on an Uber home.

[turcott3]

nothing matters but you

kirby dach x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, mentions of blood, fluff

masterlist

-

you sat on your couch watching your long term boyfriend’s preseason game on the couch of your shared apartment. you were happier than ever to see him back out on the ice.

“no no what the fuck.” you gasp, seeing the hit laid on him, hitting the ice hard, and slow to get up.

your heart began to race, thumping harshly in your chest.

“no no no no, no this can’t be.” you repeat, watching the replay of the hit.

“mother fucker,” you scoff, the guy only receiving a 2 minute minor penalty as kirby is helped off the ice and into the locker room.

it’s like last season all over again. the worst deja vu you could ever ask for. you sat and watched your phone waiting for it to ring, surprisingly only lighting up with a text from your mother.

maybe it’s not bad, he would only call you if it it was bad, right?

your knee bounced up and down rapidly, waiting for intermission to be over.

“come on kirbs, please be okay.” you groan, the period about to start. as the break ended, the camera shows your boyfriend on the ice with his teammates, a huge sigh of relief exhaling from your mouth. soon after it started, he scored, looking as proud as ever, even being a little physical, further proving he was feeling better.

not that you wanted him to continue playing after that hit.

when the game was close to a close, he tossed the gloves with the man that laid a hit on him in the first period, pounding him with right hooks as he drug him to the ground, being escorted off to the locker room.

you could hardly wait for him to come home, your knee continuing to bounce until you heard the front door open. you shot up off the couch once you heard the lock turn, anxiously waiting for him to round the corner, a stern look on his face.

“hi baby.” you coo, signaling for him to come over to you, opening your arms, wrapping them around the back of his neck as he hugged you warmly.

“hi.” he replies, his voice muffled by your hair.

“you watch the game?” he asks lowly, pulling away, hands placed lightly on your waist still.

“of course i did, i wouldn’t miss it. how are you feeling? i’m worried about you.” you frown, combing his hair out of his eyes.

“i feel okay. the hit really shook me up, i was so scared.” he says.

“i know honey, i could tell.” you reply with a frown, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you hugged back onto him.

“i just didn’t want to have to deal with a concussion again, especially since im just now healthy.”

“yeah, i understand.” you reply.

“it did feel nice to whoop his ass though.” he giggles lightly.

“oh im sure, its been a while since you’ve done that.”

“no kidding, i just have a pounding headache and my knuckles are a little bloody. and i guess my lip too.” he replies.

“let’s get you all cleaned up and grab you some ibuprofen, sound good?” you offer, him taking your face lightly into his hands.

“sounds perfect my love, thank you.” he smiles, pressing a short kiss to your forehead before he followed you into the bathroom, shutting the toilet lid and sitting on top of it.

“you looked really fucking hot and badass out there you know?” you giggle, pressing cotton balls lightly soaked in alcohol to his cuts, which he hissed in response to before you pressed a short kiss to each and every cut and bruise on the boy. his smile growing with every kiss.

“well it was just for you.” he teases, rounding his arms behind your thighs and pulling you closer between his legs, the smile on your face growing wider.

“well i’m a real lucky girl.” you reply, egging him on.

“no, i’m the lucky one. don’t get it twisted.” he giggles, squeezing the back of your thighs with his hands as he smiled up at you, leaning down for a sweet kiss.

“all better?” you ask, pulling away.

“all better.” he smiles contently, picking you up off the ground as he stood up, startling you, dropping the cotton balls on the counter as he carried you to the bed, tossing you onto it.

“kirby hey, don’t throw me.” you giggle, tucking yourself under the covers.

“well you didn’t say that last night did you?” he winks, you rolling your eyes in response.

“whatever. just get in bed, and here take these for your headache.” you say grabbing the pills from your nightstand and handing them over to him.

“thank you baby.” he replies, leaning over and kissing you again before taking them, and climbing into bed with you, opening his arms for you to lay tucked up in his side, your head resting on his chest as he twirled your soft hair between his fingers in a comfortable silence.

“you really did do amazing tonight kirbs, that goal was amazing, i’m so fucking proud of you, and how far you’ve come. you’re incredible. i wish i could’ve been there” you say, your thumb lightly running back and forth over his bare chest.

“thank you sweet girl. that means a lot to me. and i wish you were to but it’s okay, i was pissed i don’t think you want to see that.” he giggles lightly, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

“you think you would’ve scared me off?”

“well, maybe?”

“nothing you could ever do would scare me off kirby, i love you, you know that.”

“and i love you, i would just hate for you to see that side of me in real time.”

“i can handle it no matter what, because you’re still mine and i’ll always support you m’love.” you say quietly.

“thank you baby, not sure how i got lucky landing you but im so glad i did.” he replies, pressing a handful of soft kisses to your lips before the both of you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, wrapped up in each other just like every night, not a thing ever changing between the two of you.

just pure love.

[star-hoon]

VERSION OF ME — (p. sunghoon)

"CAN YOU LOVE THE VERSION OF ME, I DON'T LET ANYBODY ELSE SEE?"

— MASTERLIST

pairing: sunghoon x fem reader (oneshot)

includes/warnings (16+):  comfort/healing from dark past! au — fluff, angst, profanity, comfort, implied reader has scars, mentions of food/eating  (let me know if i missed anything!)

word count: 1.8k [not proofread]

synopsis: you and sunghoon have been dating for a few months now and he is the definition of your prince charming. but you are finally forced to uncover what you've been hiding from him, and it makes you fear you’ll lose him.

DISCLAIMER: this fic does mention/imply reader has SH scars. it is mentioned without detail and sunghoon is comforting reader about them. *as someone who used to SH, i would never ever mean to trigger anyone. so if this could potentially trigger you, do not read/please proceed with caution.*

author’s note: omg thank you to everyone who read my 'obsessed' & 'intermission' AND for over 110 followers!

i hope you're all okay with this fic idea even its a little on the darker side. but i promise its fluffy n hoon is a sweetie. this one is dedicated to all of you out there who have overcome hardships in the past or dealing with hardships right now, with physical or mental scars. you are so strong, beautiful, and loved!! <3

VERSION OF ME SOUNDTRACK

it was yet the end of another long and arduous day at work. you dragged your feet into the doorway of your apartment, hanging up your bag on the hook in the entry way and removing your shoes that you could feel were forming blisters on your heels.

sighing, you make a beeline to your bedroom. nothing sounded better than a hot shower to change into some comfy clothes. well, maybe one thing sounded better.

cuddling with your boyfriend sunghoon. and his deep voice and hearty laugh. and his silly puns and dad jokes. and him getting so excited talking about film cameras. just—him.

you had never been one to be very clingy nor dependent with your boyfriends. you just valued your own time and pursuing your own goals, but that doesn't mean you care about them any less.

that's why when you and sunghoon started dating 4 months ago, you felt something click in that regard. he fully understood your introverted ways and wouldn't be like the previous guys and complain about feeling 'neglected' or that you were too cold because he knew exactly how it felt to need alone time/your own space and he respected it.

but even still, when you are together he treats you like an absolute princess. carrying your purse for you when you go shopping, opening the car door for you, standing on the side of the sidewalk that faces the street. he also emotionally cared for you, listening to you rant about things big and small and always reassuring you the day before you have a big presentation at work. you felt so deeply cared for and understood, it made your affection for him blossom even more every day.

today was a day that both you and sunghoon had busy schedules so you weren't going to see each other. but you missed him and wanted nothing more than his comforting presence to fill your currently empty apartment.

you made your way to the bathroom, removing your uncomfortable work clothes. as you stood there uncovered you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. you stared down at your arms, the dark marks that littered your skin. you knew you couldn't hide this from him forever.

before you could let any more negative thoughts consume you, you hopped into the shower hoping the hot water can wash away your stress and worries.

after your shower that probably lasted a little too long in some water that was probably a little too hot, you heard a knock at your front door. you peeked to the corner of your phone amidst the tik tok scrolling 10:38 pm.

considering how late it was you were suspicious so you tiptoed to the front door, glancing through the peep hole. it was sunghoon. even though you should feel giddy and excited at the sight of your boyfriend, a twinge of panic arose. you were just wearing a tshirt so your arms were fully exposed, not expecting company. you ran and grabbed the first hoodie you could find. it happened to be one of his.

you opened the front door and there sunghoon stood as handsome as ever, with a bouquet of flowers and a takeout bag. you pouted at the sight in front of you—you were the luckiest girl alive. this was exactly what you needed after a day like today.

"hi hoonie" you softly greeted him, gently hugging him and he leaned down to give you a peck on the cheek. "...what's all this?"

he spoke as he took off his shoes and made his way into the kitchen. "sorry for dropping by so suddenly, i knew weren't planning on seeing each other today but i knew you had a long day and you were gonna be home late so i thought you would want some food. it's your favorite from the restaurant downtown." you nearly started crying, how could be so sweet?

"don't be sorry. thank you, you are seriously the best hoon i missed you a lot today."

"i missed you too. just sit and relax baby, i'll plate everything up for you" sunghoon always insisted on plating food even if it was takeout. he believed it made it taste better, the notion always made you laugh.

despite offering to split the meal with him, he insisted he didn't want any saying he ate dinner earlier. but as you two sat at the dining table chatting about your day, you fed him forkful after forkful anyways.

after finishing the meal you convinced sunghoon to let you wash the dishes. he eventually complied, standing next to you at the sink drying the 3 total dishes you had to wash.

no matter how small the gesture sunghoon was willing to do anything and everything to make it easier for you. you were convinced he came straight out of a fairytale—but your fantasy was going to come crashing down.

"y/n...why do you never roll up your sleeves when you wash the dishes? they're gonna get all wet!" his tone playful.

"i-its fine hoon, these are just a few dishes anyways" you try force a small laugh as a chill runs down your spine.

"come on sweetheart lemme roll 'em up for you..."

"i said it fine-"

his hand reaches towards your sleeves, pulling them up your arm slightly. you reflexively move away from him, your mind went into overdrive.

"SUNGHOON STOP! I SAID IT'S FINE!" your arm harshly shoved his body away from yours, the glass you were holding flying out of your hand. the sound of the glass shattering on the kitchen floor seemed to echo in the room.

silence fell between you two. your eyes wide and brimming with tears, your chest heaving from your heavy breathing. all you could was cup your hands over your mouth, your eyes looking at the broken glass a few feet away from you and then to your boyfriend. his expression made you sick. he has never looked at you this way. you couldn't tell if he was scared, angry, sad. it didn't matter.

"hoon i-i'm so so sorry, i didn't mean to push you. fu-fuck the glass i'm sorry i'll clean it up" large streams of tears flowed down your cheeks and you managed to get the sentence out in between sobs.

you felt yourself spiraling. you dropped to your knees and crawled towards the broken glass. the sight of the the pieces blurry from your tears and you picked up the pieces with your hands and putting the shards in your palm.

sunghoon was more confused than angry at you, it all happened so fast he barely had time to react. but seeing you pick up the shards of glass with your bare hands snapped him back to reality. he dropped down in front of you on the floor.

"baby stop! what're you doing?! you'll hurt yourself" his voiced laced with concern. he put a hand on your arm and cupped the side of your face with his other hand, wiping the tears away with him thumbs.

you couldn't stop the tears from escaping you. you couldn't believe what you just did. sunghoon was just trying to do a sweet, innocent gesture for you and in the end you hurt him. you didn't deserve him. you knew you couldn't hide it from him forever but you didn't think it would all end like this.

he leaned his forehead to yours, searching to meet your eyes. you just couldn't look at him.

"please y/n, what's going on?" his eyes wide and he pleaded for an answer. catching your breath after what felt like countless sobs, you gently placed the shards back on the floor.

"i need to tell you something hoon."

you followed sunghoon's order to meet in your room as he swept up the broken glass. you sat on your bed as you prepared how you were going to explain all of this.

you didn't want to lose him. he was the best thing that has ever happened to you. all you could imagine was his mortified or disgusted face when he sees your arms. the thought made all your tears resurface. sunghoon sat down next to you on your bed.

"i'm sorry for pushing you hoon. i shouldn't have done that." you took a deep breath before continuing.

"i-i've been hiding something from you since we met. i knew i couldn't h-hide it forever, but i never knew how or when to tell you." you didn't know what else to say to explain. you silently pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie you were wearing.

your arms illuminated by the lamp on your bedside table. silent tears ran down your face as you exposed yourself to him. you have never felt so vulnerable, bare, and scared in your entire life.

"sunghoon i-" before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a silent embrace. one hand pushing your waist to be flush against him, and the other to the nape of your neck.

you eventually muster up the courage to pull away to look up at him. silent tears flowed down sunghoon's cheeks. your eyes widened, sunghoon never cried. your lip quivered at the sight. it was your turn to wipe the tears from his cheek as he did for you earlier.

"um i don't really know what else to say but this explains why i've always covered up my arms around you, why i never was intimate with you...even though i really really wanted to..." you let out a chuckle through your cries trying to lighten the mood.

"...i-i'm sorry i'm such a mess. i know you probably didn't want this going into the relationship. i just- i'm so sorry hoon... i get it if this too much for you."

"you don't have anything to be sorry for y/n..." he grabbed your hand to lace it together with his.

"...this is definitely not an easy thing to share. it just breaks my heart to see someone so kind, smart, and beautiful could do this to herself" he kissed your lips, one of his salty tears landed on your lips.

he used your currently intertwined hands to lift up your arms, placing gentle yet tender kisses to each mark on your arms, your breath hitching at his every touch. this was the first time anyone has been so close, seen you at the most vulnerable. and yet he is treating you like you are made of porcelain.

"this isn't too much y/n. i still think you are the most beautiful person i've ever met—inside and out. this is just a reminder or how strong you are and you overcame whatever you faced in the past. i hope one day you can open up and confide in me because i'm here for you baby. through the good and the bad, especially the bad. because i love you."

your heart melted at his comforting and sincere words, now shedding tears of joy.

"i-i love you too hoon, thank you"

taglist (open!): @laylasbunbunny @blackberryrains

ramblings: this made me so soft and healed my past self 🥺 would you guys like to see more full fics/series or oneshots like this?

thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think <3

reblogs, likes, & comments are always appreciated!!

[stars-and-the-min]

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (7) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n switch out one shitty ex for a slightly less shitty one

masterlist | last part | part 7 | next part

ARTICLE

Revisiting 'Twelve More Days' : How Empty Bottles Spun Their Signature Sound on its Head on Tour April 12, 2024 · Written by Catherine Moore

Almost halfway through the Asian leg of their world tour, it's finally time to talk about what the pandemic-era rock band Empty Bottles has been up to. For greener artists, it's the cookie-cutter way to stick to a genre that has previously worked and give the masses what they want but instead, Empty Bottles have taken their 2022 sophomore sensation 'Twelve More Days' and tweaked the songs for their world tour.

Long-time fans of the Sydney-born band are familiar with the classic rock elements that brought Empty Bottles into the spotlight; claiming influence from fellow Sydneysiders 5 Seconds of Summer, Arctic Monkeys and other croony rock artists, so it was a rather big surprise for critics and fans alike when the album opened with a much softer, hypnotising approach.

The even bigger surprise was the creative and musical approach they took with their tour. As noted by various critics back during the album release, 'Twelve More Days' had a not-so-subtle jazz flavour to their sound, and the band seems to have embraced the jazz-rock sound by opening their tour with a speakeasy-style set, complete with the band decked out in snazzy 1930s reminiscent suits and frontwoman Selina Bui in glittery minidresses, opera gloves and a thematic vintage ribbon microphone.

Despite close to three years since she last performed in front of a live audience, Bui took to the stage like a fish to water, instantly entrancing her audience with her universally acknowledged rich sirenic vocals, drawing in the attention and sending the venue back to a 1930s speakeasy. Strangely, she performs this part of the show without her trusty guitar, leaving the grunt work on the other lead guitarist, talented Lukas Zhang, who delivers without a hiccup with no twin guitar to help cover any mistakes.

Quite a few of the sophomore album's songs are given a jazz-rock twist that nobody could have predicted. Other already jazz-influenced songs - namely deluxe track number 13 'money talks' and track 6 'typo' - have been breathed to life, as well as a couple of songs from the band's debut album 'overtime'.

Empty Bottles then returns after a brief intermission with their award-winning pop-rock sound, spending the rest of the set in much more familiar-looking leather jackets and t-shirts and a guitar returned to Bui's hand. Bui, very well known for having an interesting sense of humour, made the choice of returning to the stage with the fitting song choice of 'do you remember me?'. One thing you have to give the 22-year-old is that she really does know how to pick her moments, and the now-iconic first chords of the cocky, energetic track are enough to send the crowd screaming.

The exploration into the many subgenres of what is considered rock 'n' roll has always been a very fuzzy point of conversation, and it's been an honour seeing Empty Bottles have fun playing jump rope over that line. What makes this tour such a raving success is their perfect balance of experimentation and keeping to what is tried and true for them; the classic, hard-hitting, no-nonsense, inane-lyricism rock coupled magnetically with Bui's captivating execution on stage.

Would you find me at one of their shows again? Absolutely, there was truly nothing more thrilling than the first moments you see Selina Bui walk onto stage with her infamous cheshire cat smile. What did I personally think about the sound change? I was pleasantly surprised at how seamlessly they've adjusted the songs to fit the jazz-rock genre, I also believe that they have found the perfect sound to complement Selina Bui's voice. It's uncanny how it just clicked that she was born to sing the soft, almost lullaby-like, calming songs. If they were to release another album with a similar soft sound, I would happily eat it up.

Empty Bottles wrap up the Asian leg of the tour in Bangkok, Thailand later this month and then shortly begin the European leg in Sofia, Bulgaria.

INSTAGRAM

cameliazzz

liked by aidan_ebass and 122,394 others

cameliazzz life lately 🐾 tagged: selinabui

aidan_ebass Yes ma'am 🫡 ↳ selinabui @aidan_ebass i'm dying u are such an old man ↳ lukaszhang @ selinabui he's like barely a year older than you??

cami.png the hottest drummer ever 💜💜💜

conangray a little commotion for the drummer pls and thank you ↳ cameliazzz @ conangray stop i'm blushing 🙈

TWITTER

fiona🩷 @fififorlina · 4h i mean we can all thank tommy for one thing and that's for twelve more days lmao ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 3h i forget that not all empty bottles fans have read this article but i think they all should: Why 'Twelve More Days' isn't a Break-Up Album, it's a Healing One

emme @flowersforcami · 1h yes twelve more days is full of t*mmy slander BUT remember that all the band members have writing credits and they ALL helped write songs so basically what i'm trying to say is that twelve more days is actually the rest of the band roasting the shit out of lina's ex ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 1h every one of those bitches rocked up to the studio and went for blood. that is a universally hated man in their group chat.

amie <3 @mieflrs · 2h it's been 3 years, i think it's time to admit that keeping tabs is absolutely not about thomas fucking howard ↳ amie <3 @mieflrs · 2h i don't care how delusional u are, where in those 3 minutes 54 seconds did you hear a single line that sounds like anything like that sorry excuse of a man??? now a certain japanese-american singer who is exceptionally hot playing the guitar on the other hand... ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 2h yes i agree it's not about t*mmy but it's also not about CHRISTOPHER like WTF R U ON???

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 32m we're in an oscalina drought and it's plain to see not all of us are coping well

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by chrisyamada, oscarpiastri and 279,384 others

selinabui now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh is it that sweet? i guess so

amelia_belrose pop!lina perhaps 🫣

oscarpiastri Didn't need to call me out like that ↳ selinabui @ oscarpiastri don't tell me u miss me already

sabrinacarpenter she's working late coz she's a singer

lukaszhang woman you hate coffee what are you on ↳ selinabui @lukaszhang why are u even here

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

Yamada Updates @chrisyamadanews · 2h 🚨| Chris spotted at the Empty Bottles 'Twelve More Days' Tour in Seoul Night 2

Yamada Updates @chrisyamadanews · 32m 🚨| CHRIS ONSTAGE WITH EMPTY BOTTLES!!!

↳ Yamada Updates @chrisyamadanews · 30m this made me break ok, i am so fucking thrown off. WDYM WE GOT SELINA BUI AND CHRISTOPHER YAMADA ON STAGE TOGETHER IN THE YEAR 2024???

mabel @ maplemabel32 · 25m i can't breathe chris and lina??? chris and lina???????? after so long??? CHRISTOPHER AND SELINA???? as in "hello it's chris" "and lina"??? MY BESTIES REUNITED???

june @linafesting · 18m sometimes, i'm convinced lina spins a wheel on how to break the internet today

↳ kat ୨୧ @yamayaps · 2m with all due respect, this stunt was NAUT selina's idea, this was a move that christopher 'no boundaries' yamada suggested

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emptybottles_official Nowhere as incredible as Seoul! Always special to have @chrisyamada join us on stage. tagged: chrisyamada

chrisyamada someone better return the favor later 👀 ↳ selinabui @chrisyamada u begged me to let u come what are u on ↳ chrisyamada @ selinabui ok maybe i did

pi4str1 ok someone catch me up bc i did not know chris and lina were friends??? ↳ linasgirl4 @pi4str1 it's probably best we don't get into it

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taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee

[cellophaine]

Chapter VI: OUT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Negative thoughts due to toxic parents.

Author's Note: Sorry for the late upload! I fell into a rut after the last update, and thought I could make deadline since this chapter is shorter. I hope you will enjoy this little intermission before things kick into gear in the next chapter!

GIF Source: @/roranicuspond

You woke up around noon on the 27th. Disoriented and starved, you rummaged through the cupboards for a quick meal. You scarfed the instant noodles down in silence. There was no taste, only texture processed in your distracted mind, but it was enough to keep your stomach from gurgling. Afterward, you turned your phone on to find missed calls, voice mails, and texts accumulated in a concerning number. Most of them were from Art. His earnest concerns and their urgency burgeoned with each message, and so did your guilt as you read them. Remorse festered and spread through your skin like a cling film as you listened to his voicemails. Art just wanted to know if you were okay, and here you were, not responding.

What could you say? You dwelled on each hypothetical response; you typed them out just to delete them. Your eyes followed the characters as they slowly disappeared, watching each word withdraw itself behind the blinking cursor until you were left with an empty field again. It felt wrong, not reassuring Art, but a part of you believed it was for the best. What would happen if he found out about the real you? What if you hurt him just like how you hurt your family? He should be protected from someone like you.

You sent a short message to Sophie, letting her know that you were okay. Fighting the urge to text Art again, you put the phone face down on the coffee table, ignoring the part of your mind that craved his attention and soothing words. You knew he would know what to say; he would tell you what you wanted to hear. But it was not his responsibility to give you that.

You were still in yesterday's clothes, and the faint smell of sweat was embedded in the soft fabric. Too paralyzed and tired to change, you fell asleep on the couch and woke up a few hours later. The sun had gone down, and the streetlights had gone up, casting its yellowish glow into the darkened apartment. You sat up, your movement slow and sluggish as a splitting headache started to pound in your head. There was an imprint of the cushion on one side of your heated cheek as you wiped the drool off. You reached for your phone, your eyes squinted at the artificial glow and noticed that there was another text from Art.

I'm worried about you. Can you call me?

Ignoring his text again, you returned the phone to the table and diverted your attention to the DVD collection that Ashley owned. After putting on a random movie, you sourced for some snacks, and ended up stuffing your face with chips until your throat parched. The barely processed chips left your body not too long after the movie was over. You hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving into it as your insides twisted and worked itself into a complicated knot. Your body ran hot, yet you couldn't help but shiver. Your body was leaden with fatigue, and all you wanted to do was to indulge in the comfort of your bed. After rinsing your mouth, you dragged your feet to your room and fell into your bed, your body exhausted from the effort.

/

The morning came, and you didn't feel much better. Repulsed by your own smell, you took a quick shower. Droplets of water drenched the back of your cotton shirt as you cleaned the mess from last night. The table was wiped down, the crumbs were swept up, and the dirty dishes were placed in the sink for later. You layered a sweatshirt over what you had on and headed out with the trash bag. After discarding it in the dumpster behind the building, you made your way to the park nearby. Walking along the lake's edge, you shuddered as a cold breeze whispered on your exposed skin. You crossed your arms, snuggling deeper into yourself. The winter here was nothing compared to the one in your hometown. Back home, the cold was biting and cruel, always hungry for any vulnerability. Had it always been that way? Or was it morphed and changed into something you could easily recognize? Your relationship with your parents was bleak and apathetic. It had modified your perception of home with a certain cynicism that was hard to let go of. You were grateful for the warmer weather here. It was a welcoming start.

You found a bench, brushed the fallen leaves off of the cold iron and sat down. The park's vacancy made you feel small and insignificant, yet, at the same time, safe and at peace. Right here, right now, you were no one, and your actions didn't have consequences. You could dwell on the simple act of existing, doing nothing, and that would be fine. You could pretend that in this little pocket of space and time, the outside world ceased to exist. In this undisturbed chasm, you were not suspended in your own mental struggle. You were not the source of your parents' distress. You didn't have to worry about how you were perceived by others, and whatever label they might want to imprint on you didn't matter. You felt a familiar prick in your nose again, and you sniffed hard, hopefully, to stave off the feeling.

Hunger curled in your stomach, reminding you that you hadn't eaten. It was 2:30 PM. You left the park shortly after and stopped by a convenience store. You walked home with a cold-cut sandwich and a soft drink, figuring groceries could wait until tomorrow.

From the gate, you could see a silhouette at the door to your building. The familiar blue scarf hung loosely around the arched neck that you had silently admired on multiple occasions. The dishevelled blond head was bowed, shielding their face from your eyes, but you didn't need a closer look to know. The gate rattled softly, and he perked up. You locked eyes, and your heart seized in your chest. Your name sounded like the sweetest note in his voice. Art stood up and crossed the distance between the gate and the door in a few strikes. You felt the pull as well, but there was a hesitation that slowed your steps. But that didn't stop Art from reaching you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, pressing his body to yours. Your arms hung limply to the sides. His mouth was right next to your ear when he spoke, and you felt his worries deep in the marrow of your bones.

"I've been calling and you haven't answered. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?"

You inhaled deeply, and your senses were filled with Art. The softness of his coat, the solid frame of his body, the warm scent of his skin. You closed your eyes, revelled in his presence, relieved in the comfort you had so desperately needed. There was so much you wanted to say, but they failed to rise above your bewilderment.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Vermont?"

Art pressed you further into himself.

"Yes, but I don't care about that right now. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

At that, he pulled away but still kept you within reach. An incredulous, almost accusatory look was evident as he explained.

"You didn't answer my texts, or calls, or voicemails. Made me think something bad happened to you."

You shook your head vehemently.

"No, nothing happened. I'm sorry that I made you come all this way, but I'm fine."

You tried to step out of his embrace, but his hold on you was unwavering. You braved a smile, your hand patted reassuringly on his forearm.

"You shouldn't be here. You should go back to Vermont and enjoy your vacation with your family."

Art stared at you, and you felt exposed under his gaze. For a long moment, he said nothing. The need to fill in the silence was too much, but you fought against it.

"Did you know that you're not good at lying?"

His voice was low yet piercing. His words mirrored your sister's from a few days before. Your brows furrowed, your eyes strained to keep the tears at bay.

"That's so weird. My sister said the same thing."

Your voice wavered, and your attempt at a smile faltered. Before you could give in, you forced yourself out of Art's hold and beckoned him to follow you.

"Let's go inside."

/

You locked the door behind you while Art looked around the apartment from the entryway, shrugging off his coat and scarf and leaving them on top of his carry-on. You felt relieved that you cleaned the place a little before you left. Art's eyes followed you, and you pretended that you didn't notice that as you put the bag of food on the counter.

"Do you want anything? Water? Food?"

Art followed you to the kitchen.

"No, I don't want anything. I want to know what happened, and why you're here."

You busied yourself with unpacking the small bag. Art came and stood by you so close that you could feel his warmth.

"Come on. Talk to me."

"It's … complicated."

"Then start slowly. From the beginning. Or give me a summary. Anything."

Only then did you turn to look at him.

"Why do you want to know so badly? This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me because I care about you. I like you."

His admission was like honey to your tea, making your unjust indignation resolve rapidly. You softened your tone.

"I … I like you, too. That's more of a reason why I shouldn't tell you."

"That's bullshit. If you really liked me, you wouldn't shut me out like this. It's unfair."

"It's not up to you to decide–"

He cut you off, making you swallow the rest of everything that you wanted to say.

"After all this time we've spent together, I feel like you're still hiding yourself from me. Every time I ask about your family, you always turn the question back to me."

Art held both of your hands in his, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"You listened to me when I wanted to vent about my parents. You even came to my match even though you had class. Let me take care of you like you've done with me."

"I had no idea that you felt that way. But … I can't."

You looked away from him, your head dipped to look at the floor, but his gentle grip on your chin made you confront him.

"Why not?"

"I don't deserve it."

"Why not?"

"Because … because …"

The more Art pushed, the less certain you became of your self-perception. Everything your parents had said about you came rushing back, and your mind obeyed their command as if you were still under their authority.

"I'm an ungrateful, awful person who's selfish. I will hurt you."

A faithful verbatim of what you were told. Art's face was a mix of everything, but what stood out the most was a contained anger. For your sake, you supposed.

"Did your parents say that to you?"

You nodded.

"They're wrong."

"And what do you know about me? I think my parents know me much, much better than you do."

"I might not know you the way your parents do, but they don't know you the way I do either."

You exhaled hard, unable to come up with a rebuttal. Deep down, you wanted to believe Art, wanted to believe that there was still at least one good thing about you. Here he was, imploring you to confide in him. And you stopped holding back. The tears came quickly, and steadily. They were hot on your cheeks, but they couldn't compare to the warmth that he enveloped you with. He pulled you into himself, his back bent to be closer to you. You rose on your tiptoes to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Art ran a hand along your spine and woven it into your hair, holding your head where it lay, while the other wound around your waist, anchoring you to him. Even when the sobs reverberated through your frame, he absorbed them, his hold steadfast and strong.

/

After you had calmed down, Art led you to the couch. You told him about what happened. Art listened, not once interrupted you. It was one more person who knew about what you went through, but it was Art. Despite the exposure and sheer vulnerability that you had subjected yourself to, you had never felt safer.

Your eyes drooped, and it started to get harder to disguise your yawn. ARt beckoned you to put your head on his lap, and you didn't fight against it. His hand caressed your hair, drawing all the tension and easing you into a state of repose. You tried to keep your eyes open, so you asked him a question.

"Have you ever felt like … you were an inconvenience to your family?"

His hand slowed on your hair, but it didn't stop. It took him a moment to answer.

"All the time."

Your hand on his knee squeezed, expressing your sympathy.

"Sometimes, I think my parents put me into Mark Rebellato just to get rid of me."

You nuzzled your face against his thigh; the denim felt rough in the right way on your skin.

"I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I don't think you are."

You ended up falling asleep to the feeling of his gentle caress on your hair. Later on, when you were in a different state of consciousness, Art's lap was replaced by a pillow. You faintly heard the sound of dishes running in the kitchen. It was the last thing your head processed before you were pulled back into darkness.

You woke up a while later to the dead silence of the apartment. There was no sound of him. Almost immediately, you were filled with regret and anger for oversharing, for being so carelessly vulnerable to Art, who didn't deserve this burden. You dragged yourself into the kitchen for some water and found that the dishes were cleaned and put away. You felt powerless to a wave of emotions that started to build, and you bit on the insides of your mouth in an attempt to control it. The door to the apartment unlocked, startling you, and Art came through with a bag in hand.

"You're awake."

"You're … back."

You regarded him, your eyes widened in disbelief. He walked around to get to the kitchen, placing the bag on the counter.

"You seem surprised."

Art spared you a look of amusement.

"I thought I sent you running already."

He closed the distance between you and pulled you to him. Art kissed your temple, then placed his chin on your head.

"It'll take much more than that for me to run away."

He let you go, and returned to the bag he brought in with him.

"I bought us some food. I figured you needed something other than that sandwich."

He pointed to the sad plastic box that was still on the counter.

"To be fair, I was planning on doing groceries tomorrow. So, if you could hit the pause on the judgement …"

Every day after that, until school started, you were never apart for too long. Art essentially lived with you and kept you company throughout what would be a lonely week. He showed you his dorm room, which was a neat and clean single. Each day seemed to be better than the last, and it didn't slow down. Life felt like it was yours again. There was a sweet naivety that you possessed, that things could last like this forever as long as you cared for it with all of your heart. But your innocence was the hard-earned lesson that would come back to wreck you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[jqyszn]

i just imagined reader being an mc on mubank or inkigayo or smth, while the mcs are interviewing enha, reader actually has a remote control vibrator in and hoon has gradually been increasing the speed and intensity while she was interviewing them

(maybe they fuck after enha's perf cause he feels bad)

anon. i love you for this omg. first of all that’s so sunghoon coded??? like i bet you he would love seeing you squirm and holding back your whimpers while you clamp your legs together🥺 this is honestly too good to not make a drabble so here you go <3

(drabble under cut!)

pairing: idol!sunghoon x idol!mc!fem!reader

warnings: vibrator (obv), pet names (princess, baby), sunghoon being a cheeky bastard, orgasm denial, pulling out method (please wear protection😭), hair pulling, mirror sex..?, pwp???

and now, the “future of kpop.. enhypen!” you cheered as enhypen walked into the room bowing. as soon as they get in their positions, sunghoon mischievously put his hand in his pocket and switched on the remote. your body jerks as you bite your lip to seal your moans.

“so sunghoon, would you say this comeback has been a hit?” the other mc asks him.

“of course! our fans and other idols including y/n here seem to love it!” he grinned, increasing the intensity of the vibrator causing you to bow your head down not wanting anyone to see your fucked out expression.

“y/n are you alright?” one of the members asks to which you shoot your head up and nod, “yes i’m alright thank you, its probably because of the heat of this fire comeback!” you exclaim at the camera, looking back at sunghoon giving him a glare.

a quick intermission comes on giving sunghoon a chance to whisper into your ear.

“you’re doing so good princess.. you close?” he smirks against your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

“i’m so close hoon, please.” you beg, whimpering in his ear making his eyes darken with lust.

“as much as i love you baby, you can only cum if it’s around my cock. feel it baby, it’s so fucking hard for you.” he playfully moaned in your ear, guiding your hand down his body. your hand grazing over his hot and heavy boner.

“meet me in the changing rooms after our performance hm?” he grinned at you before the crew announced that you were now broadcasting again.

waiting for the performance to finish was tedious. watching him dance and sing with his charisma practically dripping off of him. even watching him from afar had you soaking your panties.

once the performance was finished, you waited for what seemed like decades, watching the other staff and members leave the room. after watching the last staff leave, you knock on the door.

“get in here.” he growls, pulling you in immediately smashing his lips onto yours, kissing you so hard and needy. “fuck i need you so bad right now. turn around.” his hand landing on your plump ass, earning a red mark.

you bend over the make up table, your soaked panties on full display for him. he licked his lips hungrily lifting up your skirt before he tore them off. “oh shit. do you see how fucking wet you are right now?” he teased, yanking the vibrator out of you replacing it with his slender fingers.

“ahh~ sunghoon!” you moan out only to be hushed by him. “be quiet. do you want everyone to know how well i’m gonna fuck you?” he cocked an eyebrow looking at you through the mirror. “no..” you answer, biting your lip almost to the point you can taste blood.

“exactly.” he tutted, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants before taking them off along with his boxers in a swift move. his raging, leaking tip hitting off his lower abdomen then standing proud.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to pound this little pussy.” he groans, pumping his length before lining it up with your entrance. “hoon please put it in..!” you begged, your hole clenching around nothingness.

“you best bet i fucking will.” he smirked, pushing himself into you, making sure you feel every inch of his throbbing cock. a loud moan escapes you, sunghoon hushing you by covering your mouth with his large hand.

“so you really do want people to hear us don’t you princess? such a dirty girl~” he cooed as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you. “don’t you dare make a sound.” he whispered into your ear seductively, removing his hand from your mouth only to pull your hair back as he pounded into you from behind.

“look at you, being fucked dumb by me. fuck! your pussy is so tight!” he grunted, pulling you hair harder.

“hoon.. i’m close!” you quietly moan, your walls clenching uncontrollably on his length.

“cum for me then princess. milk my cock for all you’re worth.” he let go of your hair, taking both your arms and pinning them behind your back.

“shit i’m cumming hoon!” you shut your eyes, feeling yourself let go all over his cock. your warm juices coating his girthy memeber deliciously.

“so.. fucking… good!” he grunted as he begins to approach his high, slamming into you like a wild beast. “ah shit!” he growls, pulling out of your cunt quickly. he pumped his wet dick, his load spurting all over your ass.

a/n: i literally finished this “drabble” within 2 hours which is insane because it’s not that far off with words as “Like what you see?” has 😭😭 maybe because i was busy…? idk but i hope u enjoyed this

[thefandomexpert]

ok. i see u complaining about how long it takes to get to shb, how are you supposed to get your friends into the fucking WONDER that is shb when they have to get through all of The Other Stuff First

I used to have this problem with Homestuck, people who wanted to skip to the trolls, or pass on the intermissions. I will repeat what I said then now:

The later stuff is mind-blowingly good BECAUSE of the setup slog. which is also fun btw, you’re having trouble selling it because you keep saying it’s a slog. it’s good storytelling! yes even arr and sb (i didn’t say it was the best storytelling!! but i’ve seen way fuckin worse!!!). You need to spend 300 hours with the characters and to watch them grow gradually for a LOT of the little character moments to even register later on, and i’m not even talking about the ascian reveals. estinien is a completely different character. thancred’s deep-seated issues have been brewing subtly since 1.0. the socio-economic political climate of the universe is SO important and SO well set up by the arr random task/fetch quests (BABY INCONSEQUENTIAL QUESTS. YEAH THE STUPID ONES IN THE INTRO PRE-SASTASHA SEQUENCES WITH THE NPCS YOU DONT REMEMBER. THOSE.) and that info is integral to character decisions made in every expansion afterwords, and is built upon consistently. the consistent build-up of the lore is, in my opinion, almost entirely the reason ffxiv’s writing stands out against other games of the genre. and it’s BOLSTERED by the fact that it’s a live service game with a shit ton of expansions you HAVE to play through single file when you start fresh. narrative games are usually 15-20 hours. ffxiv is giving you 500+ in msq alone (won’t get into how much the optional and side quests support the storytelling as well).

It’s like one of those long-running book series. you can’t ask someone to read Just the last book of animorphs and expect them to understand the narrative implications of what’s happening, or to get attached to the characters enough to care. that attachment and understanding is built by spending time and reading the other 1500 books prior. shb should not be treated as a stand-alone. in fact it’d be a bad standalone. it’s good BECAUSE there’s 500+ hours of playtime required to get there.

[haddonfieldwhore]

safe and sound - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x gn!reader

summary: matthew gets hurt during a game; you get worried it’s bad like last time

warnings: mention of injury, sprinkle of angst

word count: 0.9k

you watched with bated breath as matthew skated cautiously towards the bench, doubling over in discomfort as he sat down, and you pinched your arm gently between your fingertips. ‘it’s just a bad dream- like it always is’ you thought to yourself; ever since he had fractured his sternum during the playoffs last season, your body tensed anytime he was hit into the boards. more times than you could count, you had woken with a start from a nightmare of matthew getting injured again, only to reach over and find him asleep next to you. the thought of him getting hurt like that again plagued your mind, and you wanted more than anything for this to be a dream.

but as the game continued on in front of you, matthew still sat on the bench, you came to the conclusion that you were awake; that this was real. it hadn’t looked like a dirty hit, just an unfortunate one as number 19 found himself crushed between two of the carolina players; no love lost between these two teams. you were not at the game tonight, and as the players departed to the locker room for the first intermission you watched your phone impatiently for a text from matthew.

it finally came through, after what felt like perhaps the longest five minutes of your life, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you read the message on the screen.

he said he would be home soon and you tried to focus on the rest of the game, which remained scoreless until nearly the bitter end. florida scored but the goal was called offside and taken away, and in the end carolina scored with only 18 seconds left, leading to them winning the game.

not long after matthew returned home looking defeated and tired, his hair messy and his white shirt unbuttoned at the top underneath his grey suit he had worn to the game. his tie had been forgotten as it was absent from around his neck, and you walked over to the door to greet him, pulling him into a cautious hug.

“hey,” he hummed under his breath as he placed his bag on the ground and his arms circled around your body. your head rested on his chest as you breathed in his familiar scent, easing your anxiety slightly.

“hey matty,” you sighed, kissing his exposed collarbone softly.

“i’m not gonna break, you know,” he laughed softly, noticing your hesitation, but his body betrayed him as he winced slightly from the laughter shaking his chest. he hoped you hadn’t noticed.

you did.

“but you can, and that’s what scares me,” you protested, still holding on to him carefully. “what happened? are you okay?” you asked, your fingertips gently touching his torso.

“yeah, it’s probably just a bruised rib. they’ll evaluate again tomorrow but for now it should just be a day to day thing,”

“don’t push yourself. if you’re hurt like you were last season…“

“i’m not,“

“are you sure? don’t think i’ve forgotten that brady had to physically drag you out of bed and help you get dressed. and then you played a game after.“

“i know. im sorry baby,” he kissed the top of your head.

“i just worry about you,” you sighed, pulling away to look up at him, your hand reaching up to brush his curls away from his forehead. his hair was getting long, and he had let his facial hair grow out a bit as well; he looked beautiful, though his eyes remained sad as they looked down at you.

“i hadn’t noticed,” he teased, a smile spreading across his face as finally a sparkle of amusement reached his eyes. “i love you,” he smiled again, and the corner of your mouth pulled upwards.

“i love you more,” you argued. “i love you in one piece though, so please try to stay that way-“ he interrupted you with a kiss, and you could feel his smile against your lips.

“i’ll try,” he promised, and he meant it whether you believed him or not.

“thank you,” you kissed him softly again. “but just for the record, i will always be here to put you back together.” you gently slid his suit jacket off his shoulders, placing it over the back of the couch as you walked towards it to sit down. matthew pulled you into his side and you snuggled close to him.

“did the seattle game start yet?” he asked, and you laughed; he truly did live and breathe hockey.

“i think so, probably a few minutes ago,” you said, grabbing the remote and switching on the tv. “i still can’t believe you want to watch hockey after playing a game. you guys don’t even play them again this season.”

“yeah but vancouver is only two points ahead of us, so i want them to lose,” he explained. it made sense; florida was fighting back and forth with boston for first in the eastern conference right now, and both teams were right on the tail of the canucks who were first overall in the league.

“are you sure you don’t want to just rest?”

“i’m watching a game, not playing it,” he laughed, and his lips pressed against the side of your head as he held you close to him. “and besides,” he said with a smile as he looked at you. you who always made sure he was okay. you who probably would’ve dropped the gloves (metaphorically speaking) with svechnikov yourself for hitting him if given the opportunity. you who he loved more than anyone else in the world.

“i feel better already.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned