#though i live in ottawa

[phe-oh-no]

OHHH no that's super interesting!! I've actually never heard that haha but we love to see it. The banishing of the Vikings is honestly so funny to me, MFS really said begone white boys

Wow me?? Drawing hetalia?? In 2022??

[canadianlucifer]

WHY DOES ALL THE COOL STUFF HAVE TO HAPPEN IN AMERICA WHY CAN'T I HAVE THE FUNDS TO FLY AT LEAST 5 TIMES ROUND TRIP EVERY YEAR 😭😭😭

[puck-luck]

smutception | jack hughes

warnings: EXTREMELY META, elevator sex, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, spit kink, dom/sub tones, thigh riding, attempted phone sex, cum on the body, slight degradation, name calling, masturbation, handjob, squirting, tittyfucking, i don’t even know what else. this was a long one with a LOT of shit. pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: inspired by a request from @captainlexaproluvr, which is far too long to paste here. here’s our summary instead: when jh accidentally picks up his gf’s kindle for a roadie instead of his own, he finds some surprising books downloaded. they give him a few ideas for what he’ll do when he gets home in a week… wc: 10,002

The bus rides to the airport are never fun, in Jack’s opinion. He loves his teammates, but they’re loud and annoying. He’s loud and annoying too, most of the time, but he started a really good book yesterday. He’s been thinking about reading it all day. Jack made sure to pack his Kindle in his bag, even though he had gotten distracted by your goodbye.

It started when he got back from Prague, after the Global Series. He had written off your excitement to see him as a one time thing, fueled by missing him and manifesting in an intense need for him to make it up to you– you had stopped the elevator from the garage of his apartment building and begged him to take you right there. He did, obviously, and the rush that went up his spine from how public it was led to a conversation about how Jack definitely wanted to do stuff like that again. 

He was right about one part: you jumping his bones after a roadie was a one-time-thing. The pattern changed– now, you have a habit of doing something different in bed before his roadies. It’s become somewhat of a superstition for Jack.

There was the short roadie in mid-October, when he’d gone down to Carolina and up to Ottawa for a few days. You had woken him up early that morning, kissing him and poking at him until he got fed up and pinned your wrists down. You made him late that morning, delaying the team bus for the airport, because you just had to roll your hips against his morning wood. Then, while you packed a little roadie snack for him, you just had to be naked. It’s not his fault he wanted to bend his pretty girlfriend over the counter and ruin her again.

When you joined him for the first game of his Canadian tour (Vancouver for the Hughes Bowl, then Calgary and Edmonton), Jack and Luke decided to fly with you from Jersey to Michigan to meet up with the parents ahead of time. Then, you all flew together from Michigan to Vancouver. That was normal.

What wasn’t normal was when you leaned over to Jack in the middle of the plane ride and whispered, “You know what might be fun?” with a squeeze to his clothed cock before disappearing towards the bathrooms. It took a few minutes for that one to click (and a picture of your bare tits that you sent Jack from the bathroom over the airplane WiFi), but he ended up fucking you in that tiny, cramped, closet-sized bathroom. It was thrilling.

Jack went to Florida after that– before he left, you rode his face on the living room couch while jacking him off until he came with the tip of his cock just past your lips.

He really missed the goodbyes for the first half of December, when the only away game he had was about an hour away on Long Island. It barely counted, but Jack whined about needing his good luck charm anyway, so you’d gotten down on your knees and sucked his cock all while grinding against a pillow between your legs, coming from just that. Jack was too distracted by the thought of you rutting against the pillow because you were drunk off of his cock to play well that night.

He’d liked it so much that he’d asked you to do it again before he left for Columbus and St. Louis and you’d eagerly complied. It wasn’t any less sexy the second time around.

Jack loves your goodbyes. He loves you, obviously, and would love you even if you weren’t giving him these goodbye gifts, but they’re just so special. Jack is addicted. 

He doesn’t know where you’re getting the ideas from– the position or act is never something that pops into his head. Maybe that’s why he likes it so much. Maybe he likes that you’re the one taking charge and expecting things from him, although he equally loves when he gets to do whatever he wants with you on a regular day. 

Now, he’s leaving for California. He has two games in Carolina first, but then he’ll be on the west coast for a while. He’ll be gone for Christmas and New Years, which is annoying. He knows that it’s just the way that things worked out scheduling-wise, but he likes getting to shower you with presents and watch you open them, and he likes to drink a lot of alcohol with you and kiss you at midnight to ring in the next year. 

You made up for it this morning, your goodbye causing him to forget about any gripe he might’ve had about missing you for so long. You appeared in the doorway as he was packing up the last of his bags, wearing this flouncy little white nightgown with tiny roses decorating it like polka dots. It was the picture of innocence, but your actions were anything but. That enough was to drive Jack crazy, but when you sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his thigh, it shattered any possibility of functional thought. You told him not to touch you, pouting about being left alone for so long on your own– and you proved to him that you can take care of yourself just fine. 

If he thought watching you grind against a pillow was bad, it was even worse to have you soiling his dress pants with your slick and your cum. All the while, he couldn’t touch you– it was torture. It was madness. It was the hottest thing Jack has ever seen. 

After you came all over his thigh, you helped Jack change out of his pants– that was your excuse to get your lips on his cock and prevent him from arriving to player check-in with a raging erection– and chose a new outfit for him to wear. You’d kissed his lips and patted his side, reminding him not to forget his Kindle because you knew how excited he was to finish his new book on the way to Cali. 

You left to get ready for the day and he had, on embarrassingly wobbly legs, wandered around the house to find his pocket-library. It wasn’t where he left it, but he ended up finding it on one of the bookcases in his living room, swiping it and tossing it into his backpack without another thought because he was, once again, running late. 

It’s a habit now. The boys have joked about buying him a better watch and Jack goes along with it, but he knows that he’ll be late no matter how good his watch is or how early he sets it. As long as you keep saying goodbye to him like this, he’s going to be a poor teammate– he’d rather experience this than be on time, any day of the week.

Your moans from this morning are echoing in his mind, so Jack pops his headphones in and presses shuffle on the playlist he was already listening to. He digs his Kindle out of his book to offer himself another distraction. It’s going to take a lot of overstimulation to prevent another boner, which means he’s going to read his book, the one he’s been so excited about. If he finishes it, he’ll get to update his Good Reads and recommend it to Quinn. 

He traces the lines of the electronic before turning it on, touching the charging port and the power button. Jack smiles. The Kindle had been a gift from you on his birthday. The week after, he had bought you the exact same one. You had matching Kindles and you often shared books like your own little book club. He’s read romances because of you and you’ve read biographies of athletes because of him. It’s fun for him. This is special to him because he’s never done something like this with any of his other girlfriends. It gives him hope that you guys will stay together as long as possible. 

Jack finally turns the Kindle on, stopping short at the sight of the photo of the home screen. This isn’t his Kindle. He accidentally swiped yours.

It’s too late to turn the bus back and with him being on the move, it would just be too much hassle to ask you to mail his Kindle to the hotel. 

Jack chuckles to himself a little bit, digging his phone out of his pocket. He types out a text to you: Accidentally took your Kindle instead of mine :(

It isn’t long until the text bubble signaling your incoming reply appears. Sorry :( just download your book onto my account <3 I’ll read my books on yours in the meantime. 

Then, a second text: At work so can’t reply again til later :( have a good trip J ily!!!! Talk to you soon!!!

Jack replies I love you too and puts his phone away. He clicks through your Kindle, which automatically opened to the app that houses your library of books. He scrolls through, recognizing some of the titles and not recognizing the others. While sliding his finger along the screen, he accidentally fumbles the Kindle as the bus goes over a bump. When he gets a hold on the device again, he sees that his finger tapped one of your books and it opened. 

Jack goes to exit out, ready to download the book he’d been waiting for, and then he spots a familiar name in the first line.

He reads the sentence like a habit– that’s what you do when you see your name somewhere, right? 

The first page is just half of a page. It’s exposition and it’s looking like this book is somewhat of a romance, but he can’t really tell all that much.

“Every year, you go to the lake house with Jack.”

Like any good first line, it leaves Jack intrigued. Who is Jack? Where’s this lake house? How long have you been going? You say every year, but how many years is that?

Jack immediately thinks of his own lake house. He misses Michigan. His imagination solves one of his questions: the lake house in this story, in his mind, is in Michigan. It’s on the same lake as his and it looks the exact same. ‘Every year’ is vague enough that Jack can accept it. It’s meant to be vague. Only one question remains: who is this Jack guy? 

It’s fun to have a character that shares a name with you, so Jack reads on. He’s determined to figure out who this guy is. 

“The past few trips, it’s been a special occasion. You get your mid-summer break from work and you get to spend time with your boyfriend.”

So Jack is the boyfriend of the main character. Jack laughs to himself again– maybe you downloaded this book so that you could think about your boyfriend while you read it. He’s tempted to text you again with a picture of the page, but since you’re at work, you won’t reply for a while. If he’s going to rib you for reading a book about a guy with the same name as him, he wants you to be able to reply immediately. 

“You’ll sit on the patio and watch him fool around with his brothers. You know them both well after dating Jack for so long, but you’re closer with Luke. After all, he rented out the second bedroom in your and Jack’s New Jersey apartment this entire past year. You know Luke better than you ever thought you would because of that.”

Jack is starting to purse his lips as he reads. He has brothers. One of them is named Luke. He lives in New Jersey with his girlfriend and Luke lived with them last year. He’s since moved out, but the coincidence is still there. It’s still…

Weird.

He reads on anyway.

“Jack loves your relationship with his brothers–”

True. 

“but what he doesn’t love is when all of your skin is on display all day for everyone to see. Your little bikinis drive him insane– because everything he wants is right there, but he can’t have it.”

Jack is a little confused about the turn this is taking. This is only the second page of the book– he told himself he wouldn’t read past the first one, but this is just too intriguing– and it’s already talking about sex? The characters are in a long term relationship, so it’s not like this is a one-night-stand, inciting-incident sort of thing. Why would the book start here?

Also– the romances he’s read because of you are a lot more tame than this. Already, he’s starting to squint at the Kindle in disbelief. Is this the kind of shit that you read on your own? He’s ribbed you in the past for not updating your Good Reads enough and now he gets it. Maybe you don’t want the whole world (all of your followers, including your boyfriend and his older brother) to know that you’re reading porn.

“All of his frustration at not being able to do anything about your skimpy clothing comes to a head one day when the Hughes house–”

Jack stops in his tracks. The other coincidences were fine. Jack is a common name. Luke is a common name. Everyone has brothers. Lots of people have lake houses. New Jersey is just one out of fifty states in the U.S.– almost ten million people live there, partially because of its proximity to New York City. 

But all of it together– Jack and Luke Hughes, living together in New Jersey, with another, older brother and a lake house– Jack is convinced. This book was written about him.

He knows fanfiction exists. He’s never interacted with it before, but he has known about fanfiction since the early 2010s. There were a couple of girls in his classes in middle school that loved One Direction and they would talk about fanfiction all the time. It was just amongst themselves, but Jack sat right next to them, so he couldn’t really help but eavesdrop.

Jack knows that he went viral after the draft, considering the influx of people that have followed him in the years since. A lot of those followers, and he’s not bragging, have been women. He just didn’t expect to ever find fanfiction about himself. He thought that was a thing for actors and musicians, not athletes… but the evidence is right in his hands.

Another thing clicks. You, his girlfriend, were reading fanfiction about him. You have it downloaded to your Kindle. Why would you do that if you’ve got the real thing? You could just call his name and he’d be there. Jack isn’t exactly coy about wanting to get it on with you. You’re the one who’s batting him away more often than him brushing you off. He’s always had a higher sex drive than you and been more overt about it–

…until recently.

Jack looks up from the Kindle and he starts to grin. He catches himself and brings his hand to his mouth, tracing the line of his bottom row of teeth with the tip of his fingernail. 

His initial surprise, which manifested in that weird smile and his breath of laughter, turns into a brief flash of judgment.

It’s weird that his girlfriend is reading fanfiction about him. He’s right there. Does he not satisfy you enough? Are you unhappy with how he acts in bed? You’ve never complained– if you don’t like something, you should talk to him. Right?

Jack finds himself frowning and clicking through the Kindle again. He’s searching for something in particular– the book that compiles all of your highlights and notes. He knows how you are– you’re a highlighter. You have a lot of opinions and thoughts about the things you read and you’re all about writing them down. You do it so you don’t forget what to say when you talk about your books with Jack later. There’s no way that you didn’t have anything to say about the porn about your boyfriend.

He finds the highlights and notes easily. He starts to flick through it, scanning the page for comments from books that he doesn’t recognize and doesn’t find anything until the tenth page of notes. 

He catches the first comment in the same way that he discovered your smut-stash in the first place. He sees his name.

“Jack moves like he’s drunk on the feeling of you, soft noises falling from his lips like he’s trying not to be too loud. You can almost feel the elevator shaking with his movements.”

Jack’s lips part in surprise. He taps the highlight, looking for more information. He’s looking for your comment– and all he gets is an “oh.”

It’s frustratingly vague. “Oh”? What does that even mean?

Jack releases a scoff and clicks along. He reads the sentence again, this time focusing on a familiar detail. Jack was fucking his girlfriend in an elevator. You jumped his bones in the elevator a few weeks ago. Jack’s not sure that’s a coincidence– after all, none of the details in the first story were coincidental.

He checks when you left that comment– and he was right. You left the comment while he was in Prague.

Jack feels a bit like a detective as he repeats the process, searching for more highlights and comments. He finds several interesting ones:

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully” was also highlighted while he was in Prague.

“You make your way into the bathroom and press your back against the door, feeling lightheaded at the rush– in just a few minutes, you’re going to have your boyfriend’s cock inside of you, but thousands of feet off the air. The thought of it, how dirty it is to have sex in such a public yet confined space, makes you whimper” while he was in Carolina and Ottawa.

“‘Wanna sit on this pretty face,’ you tell him. ‘While I gag on your cock’” while he was in Edmonton. 

The next one is– dirtier. Jack feels warm when he reads it. You highlighted it while he was gone in Florida and it’s clearly the inspiration for the goodbye you gave him before he went to Long Island that one night, the night when you nearly gave him a heart attack by coming on the pillow between your legs.

The other part that you highlighted… didn’t happen… but Jack has a feeling that you want to try it, given the comment you left on the highlighted page.

“Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weight next to nothing.”

Your comment says: “...& he spits on the ice all the time but never in MY mouth??”

He would if you asked. But that’s not the end of the quote– his favorite part is yet to come.

“The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs.”

Yeah, he likes that one.

The final comment that Jack reads is from his most recent roadie in Ohio and Missouri. It’s what happened this morning. 

“‘Nah, I don’t think I will,’ Jack replies. ‘How about you get yourself off on my thigh and I’ll consider rewarding you for being so pretty and self-sufficient?’... ‘Let me see how pretty you are when you make yourself come, thinking of me.’ Your hips are rocking along the strong muscle of his thigh as he kisses you again.”

“Dirty girl,” Jack murmurs aloud, not realizing that he said such a thing audibly. Luckily, Nico is the only one close enough to hear him, and he always sleeps like a rock when they’re driving to the airport, or on the plane, or driving to the hotel from the airport. It’s the perfect combination.

So you’ve been reading smut while Jack is away. You’ve been getting ideas from fanfiction about how to fuck him.

Jack should be upset and uncomfortable because you’re reading about a fake version of him, but really, he’s just turned on. You think about him. If it was some other guy, maybe he’d be more upset… but no. You’re reading fanfiction about him and recreating the parts you like with him. Even in your little romance books, you want to read about him.

He’s elated, because, well… two can play at that game.

Jack was excited to read his book, but reading your books seems like a much better time and a much better way to entertain himself on this roadie.

He spends the next two weeks perusing your Kindle library for more books about him. They’re all short and most of them are written in second person, although some are in first and third person. Most commonly, though, it’s in second person as some sort of “Reader-puts-herself-in-Main-Character’s-shoes” sort of thing. Jack doesn’t like the books where the author writes “Y/N.” He’s not quite sure what it stands for, so he just tries to avoid it. 

Is it weird that he’s reading fanfiction about himself? Maybe, but he tries not to think about it too long. He’s doing it for you, for his girlfriend, because he wants to show you exactly what he found. Dirty, dirty girl.

About halfway through the roadie, he tries to hint that he knows about your secret. You’re on the phone and he tries to start a little phone sex action based on something he read the other day, when Merc left the hotel room and Jack was left alone. He’s alone again now. He doesn’t know where Dawson is, so he isn’t very subtle with his hinting.

He just parrots his favorite sentence back to you. 

“So, baby,” Jack says, grinning to himself. “‘Why don’t you touch your pretty little clit for me?’”

It doesn’t work. You just start laughing. “Jesus, J. That came out of nowhere.”

Jack pouts to himself. Maybe you haven’t read that one yet. He figured you would recognize the words.

He gives up on the reveal, deciding to save it for when he’s home in just another week. He gets to tell you how much he misses you and how much he wishes he could see you. He wishes you a belated Merry Christmas and he gets to spend midnight on the phone with you– your time, not his. He blows a kiss through the phone… and that’s that.

He’s back to being alone with your little stories. Jack’s able to restrain himself for the most part, but he is willing to admit that they pique his interest... and his cock sometimes grows to reflect just how interested he is.

He returns to the first story on the bus ride back from the airport to Jersey. It’s symmetrical that way and he kind of likes the idea of finishing his journey with your Kindle and your fanfictions where it originally began. It’s a full circle moment.

The story is a few thousand words, just about ten pages on the device. There are multiple rounds written into it– definitely a score, because in real life, multiple rounds is a luxury for Jack. He gets sleepy after the first and needs a break. Fictional Jack might be setting some unrealistic standards compared to real Jack, but at least real Jack can actually fuck you. All fictional Jack can do is… allude to it. He never actually gets to do it.

Jack’s favorite part of the story comes toward the end. You’ve been wearing your bikinis all summer, teasing Jack with the knowledge of what’s beneath the scrap of fabric. He’s seen your tits plenty of times before, but it always gives him a thrill to see them. One of his favorite things is getting to come all over them and mark them as his, which fictional Jack gets to do.

“You kneel below him, looking up at him with wide and bleary eyes. Jack smirks at you, his hand leisurely stroking his cock. His tip is an angry red, bleeding precum from his slit, but he still doesn’t increase his pace.

‘Ask me for it,’ Jack says, tilting his head to the side. When you open your mouth, Jack taps the head of his cock against your bottom lip, distracting you. Your tongue darts out to lick the salty precum away, but Jack evades you, laughing softly. ‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right? You want to walk around with your tits out all the time, but you’re so easy for my cock. You’re all mine, aren’t you?’

‘Jack, please,’ you pout. ‘I want your cum. Come on my tits.’

Jack slows his hand. Then, he stops stroking himself altogether.

‘What–’ you question involuntarily, brows furrowing and frown deepening. You push your chest out, trying to make the canvas more appealing for Jack. Why did he stop?

‘Give me your hand,’ Jack instructs, holding his hand out with his palm up so that you can take it. You give him your hand, waiting for him to help you up like a gentleman. That’s how this feels, like the momentum of the moment has completely halted. You’re so confused that you’d accept it if Jack just… denied you completely.

Instead, he brings your hand to his cock. He encourages you to curl your fingers around the length, watching your eyes as it slowly dawns on you. You resume his pace, lacking confidence at first and then realizing that this is better.

‘Do it yourself,’ Jack says. ‘You want me to mark you up?’ He bucks his hips forward once, just to throw off your rhythm. ‘Make me.’

You’re whimpering a little bit, puffing out your chest again and shuffling closer on your knees. Your body is practically brushing his from mere proximity. Your other hand comes to Jack’s thigh, tracing his light hair gently in comparison to the increasingly rapid strokes to his length.

Jack gathers your hair in his hand like he does when he fucks your mouth. As if on instinct, you open your mouth. Jack’s smirk reappears. ‘Easy,’ he reminds you again, taking his other hand and cradling your chin. He tilts your head back and spits, aiming at your lips. The difference is, he’s standing and you’re kneeling, so the spit doesn’t find its mark. Instead, it lands on your face. You blink in surprise and Jack uses his thumb to corral the saliva towards your mouth. There’s nothing really left by the time his thumb finds your lips, but you latch on like his digit is a flowing faucet in the middle of Death Valley.”

It turns out, spit is a thing for Jack too. He’s always liked to come on your body, but he didn’t even consider the possibility of a different liquid. Coming on you is a possession thing, and spitting is similar… it’s demeaning, showing that you’re under his control, but Jack likes it because you’d trust him enough to take it. It’s gross, but you’d still let him spit on you and into your mouth.

Well, in theory. He’ll see if you’re actually willing to do such a thing tonight.

Like he said, two can play at that game.

Jack barely bids adieu to his teammates. He speeds home, probably faster than he should knowing how the NJPD can be. He has no plan for if he gets pulled over. Luckily, he doesn’t, and he makes it home in record time. 

You’re asleep in bed. It’s early in the morning, but only about an hour before your alarm goes off for work. Timing might be the one thing that really annoys Jack about his job– the game wasn’t finished in California until almost one in the morning in New Jersey, then he had to take the bus to the airport, fly home, take the bus back to Prudential Center, and drive home. It took more time than he wanted it to and he feels bad waking you up, so Jack just climbs into bed and wraps his arms around your sleeping figure. You must’ve felt bad about waking him, because when he blinks his eyes open, you’ve already left for work.

Jack doesn’t find a good time to reveal your secret in the days after his return. You both do your normal routine. Jack returned on Tuesday. His next away trip isn’t until Friday, and once again, it’s a one-night, tiny roadie. He’s only going 30 minutes up the road to MSG. You’re coming with him. By all accounts, he shouldn’t even count it as a roadie.

Jack is desperate to show you that he knows. He also wants you to know that he’s okay with it– that he likes that you read about him and imagine him while he’s gone. He might be eager and rushing things, but this is his first chance to catch you off guard and he’s going to take it. He wants to establish this new routine early– now.

He sits on the couch, his hockey bag already packed and by the door. It’s a night game, so you’ll have time to get ready after work. Jack doesn’t have time. He’s hoping to intercept you as you walk through the apartment door, getting his kicks before he ends up being too late to the arena. Because it’s so close, he gets to drive himself to the arena. He can speed again, but New York City is so fickle with traffic that he knows he’ll run into trouble if you don’t get home, like, imminently. 

Big word, yes, but he’s been reading a lot lately. He was always better in school than Quinn and Luke, too. Not a brag– just a fact.

He also seems to have a future (ha, get it?) in predicting the future, because you arrive home just a few minutes later. You set your stuff down on the dining room table before joining Jack on the couch and greeting him with a little kiss.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” you say, pressing another kiss to his lips and curling into his side. 

Jack wraps his arm around your waist and grins at you, crooked and shit-eating. “Couldn’t leave without getting my good luck charm first, eh?”

You laugh at him, pressing your hand against his chest, right over his heart. “It’s barely a roadie. You’re literally coming back here tonight and I’m going to the game.”

“You know how hockey players are with their superstitions,” Jack pouts, poking your side until you let out a sarcastic and dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes while you climb onto his lap like you don’t love sitting there. 

“I know how my hockey player is with his superstitions,” you reply, placing your palms on Jack’s jaw and squishing his cheeks together a little bit. 

Jack wiggles beneath you, still grinning and jostling you on his lap in the process. He’s already half-hard from his excitement about surprising you with your own fantasy. 

“But,” you continue. Your hands fall to his chest again. “I don’t have any ideas for you, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay,” Jack says. “I have plenty.”

You laugh, tossing your head back. “Of course you do.”

“Well, I was reading this book on my roadie,” Jack starts.

“Oh, yeah, we never talked about that. Was it good? I know you were really excited to read about–”

“Not that one,” Jack interrupts. “I didn’t end up reading that. I’ll probably read it when we go to Toronto next week.”

A look of confusion passes over your face. “Then what did you read?” You question.

Jack just smiles, waiting for it to click in your head. There’s only so much that he’d be able to read on your Kindle. You’d read one of your normal books last night and clearly hadn’t noticed anything different on the device, so you can’t immediately think of a book that Jack would read.

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “What did you read?” You repeat, voice cautious.

Jack wiggles his eyebrows, hands inching down to cover your behind. He rolls his hips up against your core. He’s still smiling.

Your lips part, mouthing half of an interrogative word to yourself while you think. You’re fiddling with Jack’s t-shirt, evaluating him.

Jack brings a hand up to your neck, cupping the back and pulling you in for a kiss. You come easily, kissing Jack’s lips. Your movements are slightly stilted, still thinking about Jack’s literary options.

His hand moves from the back of your neck to your jaw. He lets his thumb and his forefinger smush your cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Wait– open your mouth again, baby?” Jack prompts, feigning concern. 

You automatically obey him, still looking confused. “What?” You try to ask with an open mouth, the word coming out garbled. 

Jack grins, subtly gathering a wad of saliva in his mouth while he looks into your mouth. There was nothing there, he just needed an excuse to get your mouth open. This is better than outright saying it. From your comments, he knows that you’re at least interested. If you hate it, you’ll talk about it later. He wants to see the realization on your face. It’s a big risk, knowing that you could cringe and flinch and react negatively, but Jack has a feeling you won’t.

He grips your cheeks, keeping your mouth open as wide as you’ll allow. Jack misses the flash of alarm and understanding in your eyes because he’s busy aiming at your mouth. Jack spits his saliva onto your tongue and releases his grip on your cheeks. Your mouth clamps shut and you stare at him, eyes wide and thoroughly shocked.

Jack quirks an eyebrow at you, satisfied by your frozen figure atop his lap. He checks the clock over your shoulder, seeing that he’s really running out of time. He was supposed to leave about five minutes ago. 

An idea pops into Jack’s head. He could leave you here, processing things, and go play his game. Then, he can come back later and pick up where he left off. 

Deciding to do that, Jack plops a chaste kiss on your lips before he stands, still cradling you with your knees squeezing his hips, but legs not quite wrapped around his middle. He lays you on the couch and kisses you again before returning to his full height. He thumbs over your bottom lip as if he’s wiping away his kiss. 

“Bye, baby,” Jack bids you, then gathers his stuff and leaves the apartment.

You don’t say anything or move an inch until after he’s gone.

Jack plays a great game. He knows you’re in the wag suite and he knows that he makes it onto the jumbotron a few times– probably even more on the live television feed that plays in the suite– just because of how well he’s playing. He makes sure to spit on the ice way more often than he normally does, just to send you a message.

In the back of his head, Jack realizes that people who write fanfiction will be thirsting over these clips of him spitting. Good. More things for you to read while he’s gone.

You’re home by the time he makes it back. You’re on him from the second he walks through the front door. 

“You read my–”

“Your secret fanfiction?” Jack teases. “It was an accident at first, but then I realized who it was about.”

You groan, whining as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Jack knows you’re blushing and he just laughs, cradling your body in his arms. Jack kisses the side of your head, burying his nose in your hair and smelling your shampoo.

“Is that why you spat in my mouth?” You question, voice muffled against his skin. 

Jack laughs again, smiling and swinging you around in his arms playfully. “You seemed to like that bit in your books.”

“It was only in, like, one,” you deflect. 

Jack snorts. “It was in four, baby, and those are just the ones that I read.”

You grumble again, pressing your lips against his neck in a miserable kiss. “You’re so weird,” you tell him. 

“You’re the one reading fanfiction about your boyfriend while he’s away,” Jack replies. “Then you’re recreating it.” He pauses. “‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right?’”

“Oh my God,” you wail.

“Tell me, baby, what do you do when you’re reading those little stories? Do you touch yourself?”

“Jack,” you complain.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’ll take my spit in your mouth but you won’t tell me if you touch yourself to the thought of me?”

“You are so weird,” you say again. 

Jack feels triumphant, proud of himself. He’s glad that you’re still wrapped up in his arms, even though you’re embarrassed and red. 

“Can I recreate my favorite one?” Jack asks, kissing your head again. “Like you did?”

You pull back from him, fingers finding the nape of his neck and toying with his hair. You seem skeptical, eying him. “You really read them enough to have a favorite one?” You ask, bottom lip sticking out for Jack to lean down and capture between his teeth. 

He nibbles playfully until you start tugging at his locks, convincing him to back away. “‘Course I did,” Jack says, shrugging. “These writers seem to think I’m very good at pleasing you.”

You start to laugh, shaking your head.

“Do you write them?” Jack asks.

That brings you up short. “Do I write them?”

“Yeah. You know how I fuck best, don’t you?” Jack taps your nose with his own. “So, do you write?”

You make a face. “No. I’m not much of a writer.”

That’s true– you’ve often complained to Jack about how you’d like to be able to write as well as your favorite authors. He should’ve thought about that. Instead, he goes back to his most pressing question.

“So?” Jack asks.

“So, what?”

“Can we recreate one?”

He wants you in a tiny bikini or your prettiest push-up bra, your meticulous hand jerking his cock until he comes all over your chest. He wants to spit in your mouth again.

“Which one?”

Jack detangles you from his arms and crosses over to the thermostat. He punches up the heat to 80ºF, turning to look at you.

“Oh, no,” he simpers sarcastically. “It’s so hot in here. It’s like when we’re at the lake house in Michigan during the summer and you wear your bikini around the house all day, teasing me.”

You look thoroughly unimpressed. “You don’t have to turn up the thermostat. You can just ask me to put on my bikini, baby.”

Jack sticks his tongue out at you and resets the thermostat. “Will you put on your bikini for me?”

“Yes. Also, J, I didn’t read that one yet.”

Jack is delighted. He really gets to guide you through this, leaving you in the dark like he was the first few times you acted out a fanfiction together without his knowledge. “Good,” he says. “Then you’ll be just as surprised as I was when I read it.”

You roll your eyes once more, hiding a smile, before you disappear down the hall and into the bedroom. Jack puts his hockey stuff on the balcony like always. You tend to complain that it stinks. He’s used to it by now, having played hockey for so many years. The smell is nothing.

He joins you in the bedroom and finds you in your bikini, just like you said you’d be. It’s the white one that you’ve had for ages, since before Jack started begging you to go to the gym with him. He asked you to do so so that he could watch you work out and get all sweaty– hot– and he doesn’t regret it one bit. You were less broad then. The musculation broadened your hips and your chest, like it was expected to. Age has also helped– you once complained to Jack about looking different than you used to, so he looked it up so that he could find some way to comfort you that was steeped in fact rather than sympathetic words, and he found that women go through a second kind of puberty in their life where they become even more womanly. That’s the best way he can describe it. Jack doesn’t care that your body has “changed” since he started dating you. He barely even notices, except in moments like these. 

The swimsuit is small on you. It doesn’t cover everything the way it used to when you first bought it. The triangular cups spread only so far over your tits, leaving sideboob for Jack to gawk at. The bottoms are wrenched up over your hips and you’re facing away from him, so he gets to see the way that the fabric bunches and tries to ride up between your cheeks. 

He can’t help it. He crosses the room and grabs at your ass, completely groping you. It would be inappropriate if you weren’t together and minutes away from fucking. Luckily, Jack gets to touch you whenever he wants. It’s the best thing ever.

“Ja-ack,” you complain, drawing his name out and turning towards him. Jack is reluctant to let go of your lower half, so he circles his arms around your waist to keep his hands on your skin. He splays his fingers out as much as he can before he cups the weight of your behind in each palm, pointedly inching closer to grind his hips against your front. 

“Pretty girl,” Jack compliments, claiming your lips again with his. He never gets enough of kissing you. 

You kiss him back, then you bring your hands down and grope his ass in the exact same manner as he’s groping yours. 

“Hey,” Jack exclaims, his touch flying to your hands and removing them. 

“Oh, so you can do it but I can’t?” You question. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have an ass like yours!”

“Are you calling me fat?”

This is your go-to line when Jack compliments your figure– particularly your ass and your tits. He was absolutely shocked and affronted the first time you pulled that line out of thin air, but this time might be the millionth time you’ve asked him if he thinks you’re fat, so he’s used to it.

Jack bites his lip and wiggles his eyebrows, putting his hands on your assets again. “Calling your ass fat,” he replies. “I love this fat ass.” He punctuates his tease with a squeeze.

You burst out laughing. “You’re so fucking weird!” You repeat again.

“Get on your knees,” Jack says. He’s trying to inflect his words like Bob asking Linda to undress in Bob’s Burgers. He knows you’ll get the reference, even though you don’t react.

You give him a little look, just a slight cut of your eyes, and then you kneel down. Jack’s cock twitches in his pants at the mere sight of it.

He cups your jaw with one hand and tilts your chin up, biting his lip as he admires you. “Easy,” Jack says.

“Well, I’m not going to fucking fight you, Jack. You’re the one who wants to recreate this fanfiction and I’ve never read it, so obviously I’m going to listen–”

While your mouth is moving, Jack gathers spit. Instead of letting it fly from his mouth towards your face, Jack lets it drip in a long line until you realize what he’s doing and stop talking. He quirks an eyebrow, prompting you. 

You open your mouth again and let his saliva fall onto your tongue. 

Jack pats your cheek and you close your lips. Jack waits, but he sees no movement in your throat. 

“Swallow,” he tells you.

And you do. 

Jack can’t really describe the feeling that washes over him. It’s simultaneously exciting that you will take anything he gives you and like an honor that you’ll do something so– odd? Is that the word? Jack doesn’t know– just because he asked you to.

There’s also the sexy bit, where it’s something from his body that you’re swallowing. He’s always loved it when you swallow his seed, but that’s so much more normalized. Every guy likes that. Not every guy does this spit thing.

“That’s my girl,” Jack says. He bends down and kisses your forehead as a reward. 

You don’t seem to have the words to form a reply.

“Was that okay?” Jack asks. He needs to make sure that your speechlessness is because it’s sexy and you like it, not because you’re staying quiet and dealing with his actions, just waiting it out until he’s finished. Then, you’ll never do it again and he’ll never be the wiser that you hated it.

You nod. “Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I like it.”

Jack’s anxiety melts. “I’m not making you do this?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s–” You shrug and look down.

“Tell me,” Jack implores gently. “I need to know.”

“It’s different is all. Now I’m thinking about it too much, I don’t want to think about it.” You pout up at Jack, looking a little sad. 

He wants to solve it for you. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it. As long as you like it, that’s enough.”

“I like it,” you confirm. You touch his knee, then the front of his pants. “Can I show you how much I like it?”

Jack nods, bringing his hands to his belt and undoing it. He unzips himself and drops the dress pants to his ankles, letting you do the work on his briefs. “You can,” Jack says. “But you have to stop before I come.”

You’re pulling him out of his underwear as he speaks, but you pause when he tells you when you have to stop. You look up at him, hand circling his cock. He’s been growing hard this whole time, so his cock is standing out towards your face even without your hand guiding it. Once, you were making fun of him, and you compared his dick to a compass trying to find “true North”– you. Jack has thought about that moment every single time you take his cock out since you said it. He’s been able to move past it, but he thinks about it nonetheless.

“I’m never the problem when it comes to stopping,” you bite at him, your words pointed and knowing. 

“Fuck off,” Jack sneers playfully. You might be right, but that’s not fair. He likes to come, he doesn’t want to stop himself. “Suck my dick, baby.”

You stick out your tongue at him, but then you take him in your mouth.

Like most times, all thought leaves Jack’s head. When he fucks you, or when you’re taking care of him, there’s rarely anything actually flowing through his head. His mind is just automatically filled with holy shit– mouth– warm– tongue– oh, I hope you do that again– fuck, shit, oh my God– wait, don’t thrust, you don’t want to gag too much– on a loop. 

When he looks at you, his heart is lurching because of the slopes of your cheekbones and the wide, blown out look in your eyes. He can’t look at you and feel your movements at the same time because he will come down your throat. He’s just a man. He’s simple. 

Jack takes you by the hair and stops you, pulling out of your mouth and stepping away. He’s breathing more heavily than before and his cock is throbbing with a need to release. His hand circles his base, trapping himself and providing a bit of relief. 

Some of your spit keeps his dick connected to your mouth. It’s hot. Briefly, Jack tries to decide if he’d let you spit in his mouth, but it requires too much thought for the moment, so he tables it for later. 

“Give me your hand,” Jack says.

You comply and Jack curls your fingers around his shaft. You wait for him to tell you what to do– which Jack definitely likes.

“I want to come on your pretty tits,” Jack says, trying not to twitch and jerk his hips when you start to move your hand. “And I want you to make it happen.”

You grin up at him, dipping your head to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before you guide him towards your chest. Jack’s cockhead bumps your collarbone before you start to drag your hand in thorough strokes, pointing the tip towards the valley of your cleavage. You look up at him all the meanwhile, watching his face as he succumbs to the pleasure you’re providing to him. 

Jack touches your face with one hand. Your free hand is resting on the front side of his hip, just feeling him. He places his other hand over yours, gripping the appendage in a distorted version of holding your hand.

Warmth shoots through his body, your clenches and twists along his cock hurling him towards the powerful climax that he’s been anticipating since he started reading your little stories on the bus on the way to California.

“Fuck, baby, you’re always so good at that,” Jack tells you, praising you in the way that always brings a sweet blush onto your cheeks. 

You thank him quietly, bashfully, continuing your ministrations until the pleasure overcomes Jack and he moans, watching his cum splash over your skin. It’s the strokes of a masterpiece, but at the same time, Jack is marring the masterpiece that is your body with the white ropes that you’ve drawn from his cock. He’s privileged because he gets to ruin you.

After he comes, Jack brings you up to your feet and kisses you again. He can taste himself on your tongue, tangling with his as you kiss him back. Jack brings his hand between your legs, dipping into the fabric to find that you’re deliciously wet between your folds. 

He teases you with his fingers while he kisses you, letting time pass until you’re wiggling against him and making little noises into his mouth. Jack dips his finger into your hole, only going up to the first knuckle. It’s barely enough to satisfy you, but it allows Jack to belittle you a bit before giving you more, when you beg for it.

Surprisingly, you don’t beg for him to finger you more. You don’t ask him to take your bikini off. You keep kissing him and whining into his mouth, grinding your hips. After only a few more rolls of your hips, you pull away.

“Let me try something,” you whisper, kissing him once more before returning to your knees.

“‘Kay,” Jack agrees, watching you carefully. 

You kneel tall, pursing your lips and focusing on his cock, which is doing its best to fill up entirely for the second time. 

Jack’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when you push your breasts together so that Jack’s cock can rest between them. The pressure from your hands against your boobs, sandwiching Jack’s cock, drives him crazy.

The smug look on your face, knowing what you’re doing to him, makes Jack even crazier. It’s like when you’d recreate your little stories. You were in the know, but Jack was not. Now, you knew that you’d be tittyfucking your boyfriend, and you knew that he’s got a thing for your chest… oh, it’s a dream. Jack might never be able to look at anyone else sexually ever again. Holy shit.

It doesn’t take long for him to become fully hard again. He’s about seconds away from blowing a second load on your chest– an appealing idea, but evidently one that you won’t let happen. 

You pull back, drawing a complaint from Jack’s throat. You stand and push him back onto the bed, Jack pulling you with him. You land on top of his chest with a little ‘oof.’ You push yourself into a seated position, heavy on his lap. 

“Did’ya like it?” You tease, hands planted securely on Jack’s ribcage. You grind down against his naked cock. The soaked fabric of your bikini bottoms bunches up as you roll your hips, then shifts the other way when you rock back. The sensation is far too much for Jack in this state.

Jack puts his hands on your hips and halts your movements. You resist a little bit, ironically going against your words from earlier about not fighting him.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come,” Jack says. “I want to come in you, baby.”

“Okie,” you agree like a goof, which gives Jack a little reprieve. You laugh and pat his chest, kneeling up a bit so that you can take his cock in your hand. You shift the crotch of your bikini bottoms to the side and sink down on Jack’s member, enveloping him entirely.

Jack breathes out as you settle against him. He has to close his eyes and push all the air out of his lungs before he can look up at you again.

His cum has dried on your chest. Your hair is wild. Your fingernails are digging into his chest as you start to rise and fall. Your tits bounce, drawing Jack’s eyes. He can’t really decide where to look– your tits, your face, your pussy… which is swallowing his cock greedily and perfectly, the way only you can.

Your walls are gummy and hot. It’s impossible to escape the pleasure or stave off his second orgasm, especially not when you flex your abdomen and rotate your hips in a little figure-eight that has you inadvertently clenching down on him. You’re like a vice, the one with the crank that takes a tight grip and makes it almost clinically impossible to un-attach. 

Jack is probably babbling, although he’s more focused on the sweet little moans and breaths that escape from your mouth. You’re biting your bottom lip, so Jack reaches up to pull it from your teeth. He thinks again of what it would be like to have you spit into his mouth from this vantage point, but then you start to bounce again and he loses the idea into the ether of pleasure. His first two fingers find your tongue and you start to suck, more noises leaving your mouth and sending vibrations up his arm.

His insides start to feel warm and fuzzy, which is when Jack stutters out a brief warning that he’s going to come. He doesn’t know how close you are, but your fingers on one hand have started to flick against your clit in quick motions. Jack watches your fingers move, enraptured by the sight because they’re just so deft– and then he remembers that those fingers spurred him towards an orgasm before, which landed across your chest– and then a little bit of your saliva slides between his fingers and cools in the bedroom air– and Jack comes inside of you. It knocks all of the breath and all of the tension out of his body, leaving him completely blank and new like he’s floating in space without anything around.

The first thing he sees after whiting out from the orgasm is you, legs shaking, writhing so violently from the gratification of your own climax that his cock is displaced from its home in your cunt. His cum drips out of you and the rapid emptiness allows you to pull off Jack’s favorite trick– your orgasm manifests in a squirt that washes over Jack’s pelvis and leaves you grinding into the air for more. 

Jack pushes himself up to a half-seated position to catch you when you sag forward from sheer exhaustion, kissing you again and bringing you to a position where you can straddle his thigh and continue chasing the aftershocks of your climax. You’re mewling into his mouth desperately, hips working, and Jack wants to give you another but he just can’t. He’s entirely spent.

He plugs you with two fingers, filling you because he knows that’s what you need. You hump against his hand as you come down, your kisses becoming less wanton and needy as you exit the rush of emotion you’re experiencing.

Your kisses turn sweet and long, sensual but not intentional. You’re making out just to feel each other, just like how Jack has his fingers inside of you just so that you’re full. 

“That wasn’t exactly what I read,” Jack is able to joke after your rocking stops. 

“No?” You ask, voice thick, the way it is when you first wake up in the morning and you’re not sure what’s real and what’s a dream. Jack loves when your voice gets like that after he fucks you– it means he did a good job and you’re so satisfied that you’re sleepy. Your eyes are closed now and you wrap your arms around Jack’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“I was supposed to spit on your face before you made me come,” Jack says. 

You hum. “I think ours was better.”

“Maybe you should write it down,” Jack teases, which earns him a sharp tug to his hair. He laughs. “Okay, message received.”

You sit in silence for another few minutes. Jack draws shapes all over the expanse of your back– although his favorite is the attempted rose that he puts between your shoulderblades or the series of loopy hearts at the base of your spine. 

“I have another question,” Jack says.

“Hm?”

You really are sleepy. Jack might have to sit you on the counter in the ensuite bathroom and clean you up with a wet rag instead of washing your body of his cum in the shower, which is what he was fully planning to do. That being said, Jack asks his final (series) of question(s).

“That stuff wasn’t, like, actually published, right? People aren’t making money off of my name and life? I don’t have to sue anyone?  I feel like that would be a little embarrassing. I don’t want to go to court because of fanfiction.”

He makes you giggle. “No, baby. They’re not real books. Although, there are probably some real books whose love interests were inspired by you.”

Jack hums. “I’ll allow it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they don’t even compare to the real thing.” You kiss his shoulder and toy with his hair a little more before Jack decides to take you to the bathroom and clean you up.

You continue to share your sweet kisses, puckering your lips to ask for another every few minutes, and Jack is hopeless to deny you. Not after you did so well, anyway– letting him do exactly what he wanted, and even improving it by working him over with your boobs and squirting because of his cock. 

Jack takes you back to bed after you’re all clean, cuddling up behind you and spooning you. “Love you,” he murmurs in your ear before kissing your neck. 

“Love you,” you parrot back. “Can’t believe you’re making me find a fanfiction that’s better than that for your next goodbye.”

“I’ll do some research, too,” Jack offers. 

You scoff, shaking your head fondly and laughing at Jack one last time before falling asleep. “So fucking weird.”

notes: this has been in my inbox since MAY ELEVENTH. Cappy's patience cannot be overpraised. she sent me FIVE requests outlining this whole thing, complete with dialogue, most of which was completely thrown out the window when i got my own ideas and actually started writing. you all will likely never see the original requests, but they are so silly goofy looking back on it. i have them written down in my notes app, having done that before i embarked on this journey, and i will probably not delete them because it's a nice little memory. back to my roots.

like i told cappy: this fic was a canon event, a fixed point, in my writing journey. i hope you all SINCERELY enjoy it. i know i've said this before, but this could be my magnum opus <3 i think it is the best contender at the moment.

i hope you all enjoyed!

[starsareshinning]

High School AU: What year everyone is in and some Info

SENIORS

Annalise Lusen Mia: She’s a student nurse that had an opportunity to learn from the nurse working at Proxy High. She took it now she goes to the nurses office whenever she can to learn and help out.

Liu Woods: Moving from Ottawa to Toronto he’s brand new to the district and city. Liu looks like your average loser, but he’s much more. A lot more social.

Helen Otis: Helen was actually sent to jail for attempted murder. He lied and manipulated his way through, pretending he was getting better. He is now back in Proxy High. He has a weird obsession with blood.

Candy Pop: Funky little jester who looks as if he’s ready to catch Pokémon! He was born in New York but now lives in Toronto Canada with a weird man (human Night Terrors) who he avoids by filling up his free time with after school activities.

Nathan Maxwell Lux: Goth guy who’s a hater and can be a bitch. He’s also Candy Pop’s best friend and neighbor, which can suck because Candy Pop is annoying as hell. But they get along. Somehow.

Dina Angela Clark: Dina is known for being a sweetheart, her whole reputation was built upon her sweetness. She helps out whenever and whoever she can. Everyone calls her an Angel. However, just because she is an angel, doesn’t mean she’ll let people walk over her.

Kagekao: School’s one and only plug. I’m not kidding when I say that. Kagekao provides people with drugs and alcohol, though he only provides it to trusted and known people. Ones who won’t snitch. He’s also one of the rich students that attends Proxy High.

Jason Meyers: Honor student. His parents expect highly of him, and so his own exceptions of himself are high. Though his wish is to be a toymaker, he knows his parents would kill him if he ever said that out loud. Jason gets bullied because he is: British, a born red head, self-centered, and worst of all…he wears a top hat.

Ciara H. Callaghan: In a loving and healthy relationship with Nathan. She’s a confident student, doesn’t let anyone mess with her or someone she care deeply about. Lives with Candy Pop and (human) Night Terrors.

JUNIORS

Alice Marie Jackson (Zero): Alice prefers to go by Zero. Her adopted father is abusive to her so she usually spends her nights at Kagekao’s rich ass mansion. It’s gotten to the point where she can be called a roommate.

Jack Nyras: Most people dislike him because of his personality. Which is sarcastic while also being a smart ass. Group projects with him? You won’t be doing anything. He does all the work. He chooses to do all the work just because he doesn’t trust anyone else. Despite this, he can be caring for some people. He lives with his three siblings and older cousin.

Jonathan Blake (The Puppeteer): He’s sort of a sad little man these days. Found out his girlfriend cheated on him, but he has his best friend Helen Otis. Jon likes instruments and arts! He works as a delivery person. Delivers pizza at night and newspaper in the morning.

Laughing Jack: Schools personal clown. People either hate him or love him, he pulls pranks on anyone, anything, and everyone. No one is safe from him. Not even the teachers! He’s gotten in trouble because of his pranks. Oh and. He’s most likely never going to graduate. So. Have Fun LJ. His childhood best friend who was Issac Grossman turned out to be a serial killer, so that fucked him up a bit. But, he distracts himself with jokes and avoids people who want to question him about it.

Laughing Jill: She is Laughing Jacks twin sister. She’s the better twin. She does pull pranks, however her pranks only targets assholes like school bullies! Sometimes she gets pulled into LJ’s shenanigans. She does ballet after school!

Jane Richardson: She’s in a relationship with Mary. She’s also an honor student! Jane doesn’t mess around with her grades, she does everything on time and completed. She wants to make her parents proud (they already are).

Natalie Oullette: Natalie is known for getting into fights. She’s a sucker breaker through and through. She skips most of her classes and leaves the school when it gets to lunchtime. Her family is a mess which she avoids ever interacting with.

Sophomores

William Grossman: Will loves crime podcasts, especially the ones that talk about his cousin: Issac Grossman. He works at a hotdog stand at the malls food court, needing money because he’s poor. He gets bullied because he’s poor. It’s not fun.

Jeffery Alan Woods: Liu’s younger brother who helps Liu sneak out of the house occasionally. Jeff is a closeted homosexual who wants to become emo, but unfortunately cannot because of how strict and religious his parents are. He hates going to a new school because he has to make new friends, and that’s a bit difficult to do when you keep moving.

Frankie: He has an alcoholic deadbeat father who uses the money he earns to get more alcohol. And his mother is a junkie that won’t quit doing drugs. So to provide for him and his little sister, he sometimes steals his parents booze and drugs to sell them on the streets. Frankie sometimes works at the mall as well. Part time worker.

Cody Richards: Cody is a science and biology nerd. His adopted father is a famous scientist so he wants to follow his legacy. However he’s also a straight forward guy who will insult anyone who annoys him, even when they’re right in front of him.

Tobias Erin Rogers: Toby’s parents are going through a divorce, which meant he could no longer stayed homeschooled. It was a hard decision, but his mom had to let him go into public school. Toby’s excited to start his first year at Proxy High! (Oh he’s so cooked.)

Freshmen

Nina Hopkins: Nina runs the biggest gossip blog, she’s been running it since elementary. She knows everyone and everyone knows her. Because her parents are busy she lives with her grandma and her little brother, Chris.

Kate Milens: Kate is sort of a social student! She talks to anyone that she thinks is interesting enough. When she’s not talking she listening to music and sketching on her sketch book. She likes hearing Nina yap about her blog.

Vaughn Pavel Volikov: Or more known as Vine is a very sad and traumatized student. His foster parents sent him into public school. He hates interacting with older men that isn’t Papa Grande (who he finds comfort in). Once he’s at the age of eighteen he inherits his father’s fortune.

[overtake]

Not to be weird but I feel like I got zapped when I read your hockey snippet, how didn't I know that this existed? It's literally been living my brain for hours and I've not been able to stop re-reading it since 🙃 clearly you can take the girl out of toronto but you can't take toronto out the girl because im a changed person now. No pressure ofc I mean this in non-prodding way but praying and willing you to put your snippets together. If you never come around to it then I'm glad (and changed) for what you've shared with world regardless 🙏🏻🙏🏻

This is SO sweet 🥹 I love you so much. Just for this, please have a bit more hockey au. There's a tiny snippet after a media bit (Surprise, this fic is multi-media! Writing the social media parts has been my fave part of the entire process)

@.MapleLeafs on TikTok: | December 12, 2023

[Players walk by a whiteboard on their way into the practice rink. They're stopped to answer the question written on it as they enter. The caption written over their heads reads: "Who don’t your Leafs want to sit next to on a flight?"]

ALEX ALBON: Easy one. Esteban Ocon. He’ll bite your head off if you make a single noise. I think he’d get mad if the plane was going down and you tried to warn him. LOGAN SARGEANT: Gasly or Ocon. I don’t know if it’s a French thing, but they both get really annoyed if you talk to them on a plane. PIERRE GASLY: Danny Ric. He is the loudest person I’ve ever met in my life. ESTEBAN OCON: Daniel Ricciardo. Sorry, Daniel. DANIEL RICCIARDO: Gasly. Max and I were just having a conversation and he rose up behind us and nearly bit our heads off for laughing. I don’t know why he keeps sitting near us. MAX VERSTAPPEN: I don’t really mind sitting next to anyone. I usually sit next to Daniel, and we have a good time. He keeps movies downloaded for us. They're often not very good, but that's sometimes more fun, you know? YUKI TSUNODA: Daniel. VALTERRI BOTTAS: Daniel Ricciardo. ZHOU GUANYU: Daniel. He is very nice and fun, but sometimes you just want to relax on a flight. MARCUS ERICCSON: Surely everyone except Max picked Daniel, right? FERNANDO ALONSO: I don’t want to sit next to anyone.

Mara (DR’s Reputation Era) @.mv33fan: Fernando Alonso: I hate this entire team The entire team: We hate Daniel and the French Max and Daniel: Ask again later. Our mouths are occupied with each other’s dicks.

________

Theoretically, Daniel knew that his and Max's pre-game ritual could end up on the broadcast. Butt taps and silly handshakes in the tunnel inevitably end up on team Instagram stories even if they don't air on TV. It was to be expected, particularly on a Saturday night game against Ottawa.

Still, he didn’t exactly expect a whole montage. It's a nice little package, to be fair. It shows him and Max laughing next to each other in the tunnels and locker rooms before games, followed by their fingers interlocking in their usual drawn-out high five. Daniel prefers to fist bump the whole team and exit only before the goalies, but his routine with Max is always a bit of a production that holds up the line. It's only a surprise it hasn't been uploaded sooner.

After a game where Max scored two goals and Daniel threw his body in front of a rogue deflection and stopped the Sens from a late-third tie, the media naturally focuses on the montage. God forbid they talk about actual fucking hockey in the hockey interview.

“We call it tangled love,” he tells reporters in the press scrum after the game. “In honour of our artistic collision last game.”

It wasn’t a real collision. They’d just got tangled up together when things got chippy by the net. Their skates had collided and they'd taken each other out while trying to defend Esteban from some Habs players. It was all over social media, though, and Daniel knew they’d end up in some embarrassing NHL moments compilation.

They’d both laid on the ice, a little stunned and a lot stupid, before Daniel let out a giant laugh and broke the tension. Max had risen to his feet and tried to pull up Daniel, only for them both to fall right back down as if this was the first time they'd ever skated.

They’d actually been doing this little handshake all season, but reporters were always happy for a soundbite to latch onto and a joke they’d never let go. There's not much to work with in this league in the way of on-camera personality, so it’d probably be a story for the next week. The go-karting clips of the two of them were so popular than even Max mentioned he’d seen them on Reels, and he’d carefully curated his feed to show him anything but Leafs content.

Daniel can’t explain it, this warmth that makes him feel like he’s glowing from inside out all the time since the season started, but he knows he feels it most when he sees people write his name alongside Max’s like their togetherness is a given.

[three-headed-monster]

brandt/luke: a primer

i'm gonna be super honest, there's nothing that's prompting this. it's quite literally self-indulgent for me to archive their interactions before i forget them all!

so hello ! welcome ! if you're here, i presume you're clicking because you're like 'what the fuck is this, luke hughes and who now?' and yeah that would be me too if i didn't know the background information

but it exists!!! and it has spiralled far beyond my wildest dreams and become an actual Thing that i would consider one of the ships i ride the HARDEST for!!!!!! that i have somehow convinced my closest friends to also ride for, which is the biggest accomplishment for a ship, as we all know

here's who the ship consists of:

luke hughes!

(sorry he looks cursed but this is not a post about how attractive he is)

he was the 4th overall pick in the 2021 draft or smth, no big deal, just comes from an extremely talented hockey family and plays with his brother in new jersey now. used to play at the university of michigan, which unfortunately is an important setting for many, many rarepair ships. don't know if there are really any fun facts about him but he used to model for american eagle and got made fun of for that

anyways here's the second person in the ship, brandt clarke !

(did i choose a significantly better looking photo of him for this than with luke? yes, absolutely, because it's important that you think he's attractive)

8th overall pick to the la kings, former don mills flyer with shane wright and brennan othmann, former barrie colts captain, friends with jack quinn, etc etc. you may actually know him from that time he tried to jump the glass and fight a fan in the stands, i think that video went p viral on hockey twitter. the most important thing you know though is that he has more attitude and swagger in his pinky finger than the majority of people have in their whole BODY

so let's venture back to 2022, and how this all started, with a conversation between me and @fifthovertime about the greater toronto area and its hockey connections

toronto, as many might know, is considered a hockey hotbed, due to its abundance of minor hockey teams. it's where a lot of nhl players come from, and where a lot of players call home and return to in the summers.

luke, prior to moving to michigan with his parents and brothers so quinn could play with the ntdp, used to live in toronto while his dad worked for the leafs. at this time, there were a lot of other young budding stars in the area, brandt clarke included. he'd moved down from ottawa to play on a minor midget team in toronto, the don mills flyers, which was rival minor hockey team to luke's. however, since the toronto hockey scene was so tight (and because brandt's older brother was playing with luke's on the same team), they would periodically see each other and play pond hockey together. as kids do.

don't believe me? hear it from brandt himself. timestamp from about 2:55 of the video to about 3:55.

this is what i like to call interaction #1. of course, it's really just brandt retelling a story, but it's the first time i heard about any sort of friendship between the hughes brothers and the clarkes. very wholesome, you can tell brandt really has a hero complex for luke and jack, it's frankly adorable.

and if you go back, you can even see that brandt was a really supportive friend! he commented on luke’s commitment post to umich and luke liked the comment, at the time

but they’re not friends. no, i’d call them far from that. because slowly....you can start to see that hatred is building........because brandt starts to know he's good enough to go fourth overall. and he would love to go to a team with his brother on it.....but there's another brother standing in the way of that.

he doesn't speak about luke in particular in this interview, but he definitely talks about njd as if he doesn't think it's a realistic option for him

at this point then, the narrative is pretty clear. it was once a friendship, that slipped away from both of them because of distance, and although brandt once had reverence for it, he’s soured on the idea. he wishes he could be good enough to play with his brother too. he hates that luke hughes is good enough at hockey to do it. luke to him is less so an extension of his brothers, but an obstacle for brandt to overcome, an obstacle that stands in the way of everything he wants.

but so far it’s been pretty one sided…right? it’s all kind of just been brandt’s feelings toward luke, right?

behold, the glorious moment that lives entirely rent free in my mind, every. single. day.

i soooo wish i had the video for this (screw tsn for wiping their archives so often) BUT TRUST WHEN I WATCHED IT FOR THE FIRST TIME I AUDIBLY GASPED.

he said it with so much fucking snark, and an EYE ROLL. the inflappable luke hughes, who has seemingly never let an opponent get in the way of him and his friends having fun and kicking ass at the same time, is bothered by a dig from brandt clarke. that didn't even mention him directly! that was more about techniques of the game than it was about the usa players! "he can say what he wants", but he didn't even say anything about YOU

genuinely, i will thank mark masters for bringing this up with luke forever, he's so valid for that, he knew we needed this narrative.

what's even better is that THE NEXT DAY during the semi-final? guess who scores the game-winning goal. and guess who just happens to be flopping like a fish on the ice during it, trying to prevent it from going in.

and thus brandt/luke is born! as taylor describes it as, it is bitch ass cunt (luke) for cunt ass bitch (brandt). they are each other's equals and opposites. they're both cocky and sure of themselves and can give it as good as it gets, and what they like about each other is what happens when that is stripped away. they are undoubtedly MY favourite luke hughes narrative, and the only one i feel truly captures his narrative essence, away from his brothers. sure, others are cute and i can see where people are coming from, but nothing gets luke as much as this gets luke.

this is luke, unfiltered, and it's only brandt that can bring it out of him.

[pineapple-overlord]

Lol I’m posting on tumblr for the first time in LITERAL YEARS because I need to scream about Les Mis and twitter doesn’t exist anymore

Anyway I just saw the touring show in Ottawa courtesy of my absolutely perfect partner, who bought us tickets for my birthday even though they profess to not even like the play (pour one out for a real one)

And it was SPECTACULAR

Everyone did an amazing job, probably the best version of the show I’ve seen live. Special shoutout to the Grantaire, Kyle Adams, who was perfection?? I’m obsessed with his performance. Truly my favourite part of theatre is being able to track the small choices made by the actors, even/especially when they are not the focus. The way he fully embodied R every second, made the most of every movement, and played off the other Amis?? Absolutely brilliant. Gahhhh.

If you have seen this cast or just want to generally yell about Les Mis hit me up! I am full of Special Interest Energy and my partner deserves a break from hearing about how heartbreaking but also amazing it was when Enjolras caught Gavroche as he was falling and then handed his body to Grantaire :’)

[inkednotebook]

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks and @willtheweaver for the tags!

Rules: answer the prompts for an OC

Tagging @meerawrites, @illarian-rambling, @mjparkerwriting, @bardic-tales, and @peachesandghosts

From my WIP Icing Waved Off

Full name: Theodore Alexander Wilson

Age: 24

Gender: Cis male

Species: Human

Appearance: Pale skin with pink undertones, no birthmarks or freckles, really. Short, chocolate-brown hair, often swept back; faded shave around the ears and nape of the neck; longest pieces touch the top of his ear. Hazel-coloured, slightly downturned eyes. Angular features (nose, cheeks, and jaw). 6'1" or about 185cm. Broad shoulders, boxy-shaped torso. Strong, muscular legs (especially thighs).

Occupation: Pro/NHL hockey player

Family members: Isn't super close with them, in part because he lives relatively far away for his career. As such, I haven't fully developed these characters yet. His dad, Greg Wilson, is a cop. He was pretty hard on Teddy and his brother growing up, but it's because he wanted them to succeed and wanted them to work hard (though he could've done a better job at showing them love). He has some pretty traditional gender views (e.g., "man" of the house, heteronormative but not necessarily homophobic). Teddy's mom, Libby Wilson, is an elementary school librarian. She's much softer than Greg, but never really spoke up if/when Greg was being hard on the boys growing up. Teddy's brother Nicholas is a few years older and is doing his PhD in psychology and has a habit of psychoanalyzing people and situations rather than listening. He's engaged to his fiance Kylee.

Teddy's extended family is spread out across New Brunswick and eastern Ontario (Canada). On his dad's side, he has an aunt and uncle who live in Moncton, NB, and a "dickhead uncle" (as James calls him) who lives in Fredericton, NB with his grandparents. He has cousins in Ottawa, ON - his Moncton aunt and uncle's kids. On his mom's side, he has an aunt and uncle who live in Kingston, ON, and who have a couple kids a few years younger than him. He also has his grammie who lives in Kingston - she lives in a retirement community where she found "her new beau" (also according to James).

Best friends: James Parker

Pets: None. He never had any growing up because his brother's allergic to most animals and his parents didn't want any reptiles or anything. With his job being so hectic, he doesn't have the right lifestyle for a pet at the moment.

Describe their room: Mostly decorated by his fiance Eleanor. Large king-sized bed with pale blue sheets and teal, paisley-printed duvet. White bookcase near the window with novels, trinkets, and pictures. A small armchair next to the bookcase; black suede with a pale blue throw blanket and matching pillow. White dresser across from the end of the bed with jewellery boxes/displays atop. White bedside tables with books and magazines on top. A walk-in closet near the back corner, next to which is the entrance to the master bath.

Way of speaking: His voice is pretty even-toned most of the time. He uses a lot of sports slang in his speech. Hesitates and stumbles over words when anxious. Ontario accent.

Physical characteristics: Nothing I didn't already mention.

Items in their bag/purse: When they're on roadies, his carry-on usually has: a sleeping mask, a book, phone charger, his meds/vitamins, noise-cancelling headphones, a pack of playing cards, an extra sweater, a Sudoku book + pencil, lip balm, pack of gum, snacks (assorted nuts, granola bars, and maybe an apple or banana), and a water bottle.

Hobbies: Other than playing hockey, he enjoys reading (especially mystery novels), playing video games (not really open world/story-based ones, but ones like Mario Kart, Mario Party, NHL The Show, MLB The Show, and fun party/co-op games), watching Star Trek, watching baseball and sometimes football, and doing puzzles (both brain puzzles and physical puzzles).

Favourite sport: Hockey, duh.

Abilities/talents/powers: He's very athletic (again, duh). He's a great hockey player. He's a pretty fast reader. He's an okay cook. He's good at brain puzzles (like Sudoku).

Relationships: At the beginning of the book, he's engaged to his high school sweetheart Eleanor Montgomery. Their relationship is very much based on emotional co-dependency from when they were teens. They "...fell in love young" and "What do seventeen year olds know about love anyway?" (-El). Not a healthy relationship on either end. Teddy pushes down his feelings and hides parts of himself around her and he ignores his gut telling him something's wrong.

With his teammates, he's much more comfortable. He's open and free and goofy. He lets himself relax and even lets himself break down at times. He still pushes down his feelings when around others a lot, and he isn't good at vocalizing his feelings with certain people. He's closest with his teammates James, Marcus, and Mickey.

Fears: Failure. Disappointing loved ones. The unknown.

Faults: Oh boy, he has many. He's a flawed individual, especially at the beginning of the book. Kind of touched upon it, but he's not good with feelings. Or at least he has a habit of shoving down his actual feelings to please others. He can be selfish at times without realizing it. He sometimes turns to alcohol and cigarettes to cope with his thoughts.

Good points: He cares so deeply about people. He's a hard worker. He's a good listener. He's open-minded. He's witty/can make people laugh.

What they want more than anything else: To win the Stanley Cup. But also just be happy with who he is.

[thejadedjewel]

Little Muppet Sesame Things #79

Since Season 3, Snuffy has been thought to be just Big Bird's imaginary friend. Big Bird would protest and be upset when the adults would dismiss Big Bird's statements.

But then, thirteen seasons later, while hanging out on the roof of 123, Big Bird once more mentions Snuffy, saying he can't come over to see the sun rise. Once again, the adults dismiss the idea of Snuffy is real, with Olivia and Bob being the most vocal about Snuffy being imaginary and Big Bird pretending he's real.

Then, something happens. Instead of being his usual "Oh, but he's real, I tell you! Snuffy's real!", Big Bird... is upset, but a different upset.

Big Bird: Boy, you can't possibly imagine how tired I am of hearing that.

Big Bird is not only upset, he's angry. A calm anger as he finally calls out the eight adults: Gordon, Susan, Olivia, Bob, Linda, David, Maria, and Luis.

Big Bird: For once and for all, don't you think, after all these six years of my life, I've learned the difference between what's real and what's imaginary? I know what's real! Why, what's real you can touch and see and hear and feel, outside of your head. But what's imaginary lives only inside your head. I mean, you can't really talk to an imaginary friend on the telephone, but you can talk to a real friend on the telephone! And that's what I! Just! Did! I say Mr. Snuffleupagus is real, and you should believe me!

This is amazing. It's been building up for thirteen seasons and in the very first episode of Season 16, the season right after Big Bird already got upset over Mr. Hooper dying, Big Bird finally shames his adult friends, calling them out for not believing him. He know the difference between what's real and what's imaginary. Hell, he had a similar conversation about that with Mister Rogers in Season 12, four seasons ago. He doesn't scream, this is pure tranquil fury at its finest. I also love the solo shots of Gordon, Susan, and Maria reacting to Big Bird's speech. Susan and Maria look ashamed, but Gordon... looks thoughtful. Like he's really listening to Big Bird's words and thinking hard.

And Gordon is the first to respond.

"I believe you, Big Bird."

Five words Big Bird has been waiting to hear for a long time. Gordon says he believes that Big Bird knows the difference between imaginary and reality, so if Big Bird says Snuffy's real, then he's real and he believes him. So that's one.

Then, another voice chimes in.

"I believe you, too, Big Bird."

Maria walks over, and then, there were two. And then a third joins.

After signing what's going on and Bob signing to her that Gordon and Maria believe Snuffy's real, Linda signs that she believes Big Bird, too. Bob is the only one that speaks afterwards, saying he still doesn't believe. Big Bird does compare his statement of Snuffy being real even though no one's seen him to Bob talking about an Aunt Hazel that lives in Ottawa, but Big Bird's never seen her.

The others don't say anything, nor does Bob change his mind.

Big Bird is just happy that at least three of his adult friends believe him about Snuffy.

One season later... More would end up changing their minds.

[swissboyhisch]

All-Star Love

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuck x Lemiuex!Reader

Summary: The NHL All Star weekend is always fun. But bring in a romance... Then that's when it becomes interesting.

Word Count: 1742

Warnings: None I think. Please tell me if I'm wrong.

A/N: This comes from a fanific I've written myself. I adjusted it for this but I loved this idea/scene.

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

All-Star weekend 2020. This year it was being held in St. Louis. You had arrived on the Pittsburgh plane with Sidney Crosby, Kris Letang and Tristan Jarry since you were currently working with the team. Despite being Lemiuex’s child, you had earned yourself a position as an assistant coach at such a young age. You grew up playing the game. Now you were also the captain of the Canadian Women’s team. 

The last few years, you had attended the games alongside Sidney, who was an older brother after he lived with you and your family after he was drafted in 2005. It was a staple weekend in the season schedule. You had the chance to see all the friends and players you were close with and get to have some fun. Often you could even find yourself doing media stuff. 

This year the NHL had introduced the Elite Women’s 3 on 3. You were the youngest on the Canadian team by 5 years. They also have allowed the women on the teams to compete in the skills competitions. You had been placed into the Shooting Stars event. This meant that you were competing against your boyfriend, Matt, and his brother, Brady. Others in the skills competition include Mitch Marner, Patrick Kane, Tyler Seguin, David Perron, Hillary Knight, Danid Pastrnak and Ryan O’Reilly. 

Right now you were dressed in a pair of jeans and your team jersey. Standing in line waiting to be called to the stage where you’d be shooting from. With Mitch, Matt and Brady in front of you, the four of you were chatting and laughing. Each of you were excited to shoot off the platform. 

“Now your Gatorade Shooting Stars… from your St. Louis Blues, number 57, David Perron!”

The arena came to life, all cheering on one of the home team players. Perron, with his son in his arms, made his way up the stairs from ice levels. Handing out beanies and high fiving the fans as he went up to the platform.

“From the Toronto Maple Leafs, number 16, Mitch Marner.” 

Mitch followed Perron up the steps. Handing out hats as he went. Matt stepped forward to the bottom of the stars, looking up at all the fans. He had a hand on your lower back. Brady had let your stand next to your boyfriend whilst you three waited.

“From the Calgary Flames, number 19, Matthew Tkachuk.” Matt follows Mitch up. “From the Ottawa Senators, number 7, Brady Tkachuk.”

“The Canadian Women’s All Star, number 11, (Y/N) Lemieux.”

As you walked up the many stairs, you handed out rolled up t-shirts to fans. It was weird to have this many cameras in your face though. If you were honest, the walk up to the platform looked a lot shorter from the bottom. Especially the amount of stairs you had to climb. You reached the platform and waited for the rest of the players to join herself,Matt, Brady, Mitch and Perron. When everyone had gotten there, it went straight into the competition. First to shoot was Perron. He scored a total of 14 points. Mitch was next on the platform. He scored an awesome 22 points.

“Our next shooter, Matthew Tkachuk,” Nick started. “Your brother Brady is following you so we thought, hey, why not get one more Tkachuk up here. Why not bring up your Dad. Give it up St. Louis, for all-star Kieth Tkachuk!”

Yourself and Brady grin, tapping your sticks as you watched Keith join Matt on the platform, an arm around his shoulder with a wide smile on his face. Nick motioned for Brady to join them as well. You decided to give him a light shove as a joke.

“You should be up here as well,” Brady commented as he joined his brother and father.

You laughed at Brady’s comment. Sending a wink to Matt as well who had the biggest smile on his face.

Keith turned to face you, giving you a joking look, “I think we’re missing someone up here.”

“I ain’t no Tkachuck,” You reply. “Enjoy the moment, big guy.”

Matt stepped forward from where he was standing, holding his hand out for you. “Well, maybe we should change that, hey?”

“What?”

Keith, Brady and Nick stepped back from the platform and Matt grabbed your hand, pulling you to the centre of the platform they were standing on. Your hands flew to your mouth as you watched Matt slowly kneel to one knee and open a ring box. In the box sat the most perfect engagement ring you had ever seen.

“No way,” you breathed, looking at Matt who had the biggest smile on his face.

“You’ve been my best friend since we met all those years ago right here in this very arena. When little (Y/N) bumped into me as she ran to get away from her dad. You’ve been considered part of this family since then but I think I need to make it official, make sure you don’t stand out too much with that last name. Will you do me the greatest honour of changing your last name from Lemieux to Tkachuk?”

You nodded, too shocked to answer in words. The arena roared to life when Matt stood up and kissed you. He pulled the ring out of the box as you dropped your gloves. You cried as Matt slid the ring on your finger. Once he had sealed the deal, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders excitedly.

The players around them and on the bench, as well as the whole arena, were screaming and cheering. Mitch and Brady made sure they were heard over everyone else. 

“I can’t believe you,” You laughed as you pulled away from Matt. Brady was the first to hug you congratulations. He had the biggest grin as well. The smile gave him away. “You knew!”

“Of course I did,” Brady chuckles, “I helped choose the ring.”

Brady was interrupted when Keith pulled you into a hug. “I think you should just keep your last name, it’s more recognisable.”

“Tkachuk is better, that's for sure.”

Nick soon joined the happy group. You were tucked into Matt’s side like usual. Nick held his hand out to Matt who shook it happily before handing Matt a new jersey. It was a grey All-Star Canadian jersey like you were wearing. You grabbed it from Matt, checking the back which now had Tkachuk on it.

“Oh my god,” You grinned, pulling off your current jersey for the new one.

“Hey, have a look at the photo up on the board you guys.” There was a photo of Keith kneeling by the bench in front of a young Brady, Matt and yourself. You had attended the weekend with her father and hung out with the boys. One of the rare times you got to see the Tkachuk brothers as a kid. “How exciting is it to be on this platform being here, history in the making, with your sons and soon to be in-law?”

“I’m so proud of these guys,” Keith stated, smiling at you three. “They’ve earned being here. Matt and Brady grew up here, watched me play here. I mean, Matt met (Y/N) just outside the home change rooms in this arena.” At that, there was a picture of Matt, Brady and Taryn, the youngest Tkachuk, standing with Keith now on the screen.  “I love these guys. I know they love the Blues deep down.”

“Oh, we’re excited to have you here. 18000 people wanna know, how many pucks can Tkachuk chuck, chuck? So why don’t you have a go at this.” Keith took Matt’s stick from him as the three young adults stepped back. “Come on, Keith Tkachuk everybody!”

Keith shot the puck, nearly getting it in the 10 pointer net. “Not a lot of love for that arch there Tkachuk,” You chirped as he turned to give Matt his stick back.

He hugged the three of you before Matt stepped up to the platform. But only after a kiss from you. Keith’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as they watched Matt drop his gloves.

“How characteristic…” You giggles, stopping when he pulls off his Calgary jersey to reveal an old St. Louis Cardinals jersey.

“Who’d he fight?” Keith laughed. “He won’t touch you.”

“He’ll fight me,” Brady mumbled from beside you.

The three of you chuckled as you watched Matt take his first shot. As he took his next few shots, you listened to Brady and Keith chirp your boyfriend, well now Fiance. Matt ended up with 24, getting a 10 on his last one.

“Look at you go,” You smiled, pecking Matt when he switched spots with Brady. 

Brady stepped up to the plate. Matt pulled from under his dad’s arm into his. Having you stand in front of him with his arms around you. When Brady took his first shot, Matt laughed at the fact his brother didn’t do anything special as a tribute to their hometown. 

“Next up we have the last of the three musketeers.”

You stepped onto the platform, with a good luck kiss from Matthew. You had 7 shots to hit the targets laid out on the ice below. With the first shot you hit a 5. After your 6 other shots, you came to a total of 24 as well. Tie with Matthew. After everyone else had taken their shot, it was only Matthew and yourself that had the highest score. No-one had outshot you two. 

“Since you both scored an amazing 24 points, we go to a sudden death shootout. One shot. Highest score wins.”

Matt shot first, missing the arch but a hair. You shot next. The puck went flying over the arch. Actually hitting Jarry who was chilling at the end of the end with some of the other goalies. 

“Injure your goalie, why don’t ya?” Matt chirps as he steps up once again. 

Round two. Matt shoots and hits the 5 points. Only way for you to beat that was to score the same or hit the arch for 10 points. You took a moment before finally shooting the puck. It went straight into the arch. You grin, cheering as you turn to where Matt was standing.

“Better luck next time Tkachuk!”

He smiled, coming up to congratulate you. He pressed a kiss to your lips. “Next time, you’ll be a Tkachuk as well.”

TAG LIST:

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

[pwhl-mybeloved]

logo/name thoughts:

Toronto: i can only think of Taylor swift when i see TS but maybe that’s on me… don’t love the logo tho

Ottawa: oh noooooo…. I mean Ottawa is a deeply embarrassing city (I’m from there it’s fine) so this fits with that aesthetic I guess

Montreal: we knew it was gonna be French, and although I’m terrified to hear Americans butcher the word I actually really like it! Logo is amazinggg though I am rolling my eyes a bit at the fleur-de-lis Quebec is really very obsessed with Quebec (I live there it’s fine)

I don’t have as many opinions about the US teams, was excited about NY until I realized it was for goal sirens and not the cool ass mythological ocean creatures

yeah idc if they mean sirens 🚨 I am only here for sirens 🧜‍♀️

[death-by-mercury]

Another shot of Rory at the Tavern in Toronto 🎸🍁

Rory on stage at the Colonial Tavern in Toronto during his week of shows in March 1973. Photo taken by John Rowlands and Shared by Paul Fenton. Below is Paul's story about seeing Rory at the Colonial Tavern in ‘73:

I first heard about Rory in the summer of 1972, while I was living (briefly) in England. We hadn’t heard of Rory in Canada, and the first time I saw anything in print about him was in a review, of his (just released), "Live in Europe "in Melody Maker" magazine. It was a great review, and I rushed out to buy the album and a cassette of it, at HMV. records, on Oxford street in London. In the store, there was a cool, retro, plexiglass, 'cone of silence' listening booth, my friend and I asked to listen to the Live In Europe album. At the first listen, I found Messin with Kid and Laundromat a bit heavy, but as soon as I heard the first notes (of slide) on I Could've had Religion, I was spellbound!

When I returned to my home in Canada , turned all my friends on to Rory and we bought all his other albums. Later, In March 1973, a friend of mine saw an ad in the Globe and Mail (a Toronto newspaper) the ad said that Rory was going to play at the Colonial Tavern in Toronto !! We saved up our money and took the train to Toronto from Ottawa and slept on my friend's brother's apartment floor for the week. The first day of the gig, we got to the Colonial tavern early - 5 pm!! The tickets were $2.50... Not bad, for a whole night of Rory Gallagher and a great opening band -King Biscuit Boy with the legendary Canadian blues band, "Mckenna Mendelson Mainline' backing up Biscuit Boy!

We got the best seats in the house -right in front of the stage and drank beer that we'd snuck into the tavern.yeah,we were broke!! King Biscuit Boy and Co. were great ,but Rory just blew them away. He walked on stage and launched right in to "Messin with the Kid".

I had a small Sony cassette recorder on my lap and recorded every night. Later, when I got home, I wore those cassette tapes out trying to learn how to play slide. Years later, I told Rory about that.. and it pleased him!

Between sets, we were astonished when Rory walked down from his dressing room and had a beer at the bar,no one bothered him.., the club on the first few nights was only half full. We did walk up to him and ask for an autograph,he was so nice and laid back,very humble and sweet!

Rory and his band played a great mixture of songs that week. all of, Live In Europe', some stuff from

"Deuce' (only about a year and a half old at that time), and songs from the newly released 'Blueprint"

The Colonial tavern had great acoustics and it was a perfect venue for Rory! We noticed that Rory and Gerry McAvoy used' Stramp' amplifiers and P.A../ vowed that I would find a Stramp amplifier like Rory's, and I later acquired one just like his, though it took me 50 Years to find his model, a Stramp "Power Baby". VERY rare!!

At the end of each night at the Colonial, we'd take the subway back to our apartment, our ears were ringing..Rory played loud!!

I didn't see Rory again until 1982 when we played with him in Montreal at "The Spectrum". I told him that we'd seen him at the Colonial Tavern in 73, then he told me, in his beautiful Irish lilt.: "Ah, the good old days"!

[thebunnycruise]

Less of a question and more of a comment, Im sorry if its in the wrong spot lol, I just had to say this. I promise it’s not a hate comment, and sorry for the length.

I have never in my life seen something that has made me feel so physically ill. I feel genuinely sick reading this, and mentally exhausted from it. I have never read anything that has ever made me want to do something about these topics so badly. I hate this comic, and feel every fiber of my body crumble that I can’t do anything to help these women. It’s such an uncomfortable and painful feeling to see such heinous acts being done to people who i know are just down on their luck and never deserved this. I hate to sound cliche, but this was the eye opener of the fucking century.

You should be proud of your work, you’re doing something that I haven’t ever seen work as effectively and as potently as this.

One question I guess; I unfortunately can’t donate, but what else could us readers do? This comic destroyed me and I’m genuinely desperate at this point to see some happy ending come out of this, and I don’t know what I can do.

Thank you for this question! And sorry for ruining your mood, I think... TL/DR: Giving a shit is free. I recall this one lady being interviewed by a local news reporter regarding her views on the homeless problem in her neighbourhood, and she said something that stuck in my mind: "The more I have to [pick up] human feces, the less empathy I have." I think that one comment really hit home why we're at this point in society. People connect with the characters on the Bunny Cruise because we see their backstories, how they got to where they are, what they've lost along the way, what they dream of for the future, and how they've suffered in trying to reach for that dream. But, even though we know the guy OD'ing on the sidewalk passed out in his own sick must have had a life, have dreams, it's not something we think of in the moment. The difference between the Cruise and real life is that the girls have each other to support them through it, but we will walk over or side-step the heroin addict on the sidewalk without a second glance. That "mentally drained" and "physically ill" feeling is the cognitive dissonance talking. It's when we're forced to confront an perspective that challenges our way of thinking, or in this case, face a fear that perhaps the only difference between us and 67, 10, the twins, or that guy on the sidewalk, is just pure luck. For a lot of us, this is something very uncomfortable, and it's much easier to put it out of our heads and move on with our lives. And politicians take advantage of this fear and apathy far too often. Famously, Mark Sutcliffe (Calling you out, asshole), the recently elected Mayor of Ottawa, campaigned on zoning land for more large, single-family homes rather than more compact, affordable housing. He called it "preserving the community and keeping it safe", but we all know what that really means by now. Or they will call for increased police spending and promise to be tougher on crime (which Sutcliffe also did). Because having bad luck or being neglected and abused by capitalism is a crime now... I think the easiest thing to do, is to just think about it, and speak up when the issue comes up. All too often, things like homeless shelters, affordable housing projects, and safe injection sites, don't get built because people don't want to think about the people living on the fringe of society. But the thing is, people with nowhere to go have to go somewhere.

I donate to a women's shelter because I've worked with women fleeing violence in the past, and it's an important cause for me. I also realize that I am in a very fortunate position to be able to pay rent and have a little left over to put toward charity work. But speaking up and spreading the word is free. The next time someone wants to veto a safe injection site project, speak up against them, ask them what millionaire real estate firm is lining their pockets. Vote for that city councilor campaigning to build shelters and affordable homes. Have a relative who says "the homeless deserve what's happening to them"? Shut them down, ruin that christmas dinner. They sound like a dick anyway.

It's not much, but I think if we can all treat our fellow humans a little better instead of kicking them to the curb, we can make a bit of a difference in the world.

[dertaglichedan]

Democrat Pitches Secession Where New York, 3 More States Would Join Canada to Resist Donald Trump

A Democrat state lawmaker in New York is calling for a coalition of northeast states to secede from the Union and join Canada because President-elect Donald Trump is returning to the White House.

State Sen. Liz Krueger (D-28), who is also floating a scheme to withhold upwards of $300 billion in federal taxes, defended her ideas in a conversation with Politico.

“It’s not unreasonable to think outside of the box,” Kreuger, chairwoman of the Senate Finance Committee, told the outlet.

In September, Kreuger spoke with City and State New York.com about a four-state secession from the union if Trump won, where New York, Massachusetts, Vermont, and Connecticut would join Canada:

I know that Canada has basically said, “Yeah, we’re not letting you all in if he wins.” As individuals, they basically made it clear. But that’s why I thought, “Oh, why do I have to leave this country? I love this country, and if Trump wins a second term, it’s not actually my fault or people in New York.” So I thought I would suggest to Canada that instead of us all trying to illegally cross the border at night without them noticing, which is pretty hard because there’s a lot of us, that they should instead agree to let us be the southeast province, a new province of Canada, and I offered, even though I hadn’t gotten agreement from other states yet, that I thought New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, would combine and be a great new province as the southeast province of Canada.

“Basically everybody in these states are progressive Democrats” and they “would fit in pretty well with the political philosophy of at least most of the Canadian elected officials,” she contended.

Krueger, whose district includes the Upper East Side and Midtown Manhattan, has even floated the idea with connections who say politicians in Ottawa could back it:

I propose that this could be an option, and I got back some unofficial responses and heard this is probably sellable in Ottawa, and look, if we were Europe, in the length of time we’ve been a nation, for Canada, if we were European countries, our borders would have moved around 20 times by now, right?

While Krueger plots to counter Trump in any way she can, Trump has made clear that he is willing to work with the New York Democrats to restore the state to greatness.

***Living in Washington State, and watching it turn blue, I can relate. Funny when we talk about being unhappy, they tell us "get over it."

[wanderingmind867]

A character idea I had at school today:

A person wakes up on an isolated area somewhere in North Ontario. This would be weird enough on it's own, except that he quickly discovers that he also has a body which is seemingly impervious to harm (and slightly graying). After a run-in with a criminal gang in the forest, the shocking truth becomes clear: he's an Android. A very lifelike looking android, with no memories of his life before today.

The only thing he has to identify himself is an identification mark on his exoskeleton. An identification mark branding him "Subject Delta #5". Knowing he'll need to enter human society to figure out who he is, he steals the identity of a dead man after he broke into a cemetery. He is now William Nielsen, a man who died in 1983 with next to no living family. (Although he might have some distant relatives still around).

Using this identity, our android man heads for the Ottawa area, hoping to blend in and try to figure out his real identity. He tries to infiltrate the government and ends up as a member of the liaison team assigned to the Justice League Canada under his new identity of William Nielsen.

After like maybe a year or two of espionage, "William" gives away his secret in order to save the Justice League from an attack by a powerful supervillian. And even though he knows Red Tornado is an android who may understand his predicament, he flees Ottawa immediately after this and goes on the run as a fugitive.

This leads to him getting his own comic for at least 10-20 issues, as he becomes a fugitive from the law, traveling the globe searching for answers to his condition. His book is just one long story arc that ends shortly after he finds the answers to his existence.

My one problem, I don't yet know any of the answers to "William's" condition and existence myself. Hopefully at some point answers will come to me. If not, I will gladly let someone else try to resolve the story of "William Nielsen", the amnesiac android.

[msmargaretmurry]

"when summer" - Quinn/Brady

this is a futurefic. are u surprised.

technically, it is a futurefic spin on the new classic genre of "hughes bros lakehouse shenanigans." it is set like a decade in the future. brady and quinn are still close, they still call each other best friends, but they have had these whole adult lives mostly apart from each other: brady captaining ottawa into a force to be reckoned with in the east; quinn captaining vancouver to more middling success in the west. (quinn still isn't sure if staying was the right decision — he still gets jealous, sometimes, of jack and luke together in new jersey, without him — but he mostly doesn't regret it. he stayed and accepted the c because he wasn't sure he trusted anyone else to look after his teammates the way they should be looked after, and he still feels that way, even as age has started to wear him down.) brady got married. (quinn was there, obviously.) brady had a kid. (quinn mostly knows the kid through facetime.) brady got divorced. (quinn wasn't there, and it was several years ago now, but he still feels guilty for not being there.) the once-daily texting and weekly facetimes have long since become more sporadic; they get dinner every time they play each other, hang out when they're at nhl events together, but it's a rare occasion that they see each other away from hockey. it's been a few years since that happened at this point.

and then jack and quinn decide to sell the lakehouse. for non-dramatic reasons that i don't feel like figuring out; maybe they just found a place they like better, and something something property values, whatever. but they're selling. it's kind of bittersweet — they grew up in that house almost as much as they grew up in their parents' house, in a way, spending the past ten summers there as they turned from kids who thought they were so grown up into real adults. brady gets his kid for most of the summer, since he's so busy during the season, and he's telling quinn on the phone about how stir-crazy he's gonna go for the two weeks his ex-wife has the kid in early august, so quinn says, hey, why don't you come up here? help me pack, say goodbye to the lakehouse with me. i'll put you to work, keep you distracted.

ten years, and brady's never actually made it out to the lakehouse before. it feels weird, having a place in quinn's life that brady hasn't touched, but then it also feels weird when he gets there. he's out of place. quinn can't figure out why. they're still the same as they ever were, laughing and bickering and needling each other, wrestling over the tv remote, falling into companionable silences. but it's different. quinn can't put his finger on what.

it's a particularly hot summer that year. the humidity is thick, heavy. heavier than it's been in all of quinn's michigan summers. brady helps him sort through all the junk that's accumulated in the garage — keep, donate, toss — his t-shirt sticking to him in dark, sweaty patches. quinn has spent half his life not looking, and he shouldn't start now.

quinn never did settle down. well. he hates putting it like that; he feels plenty settled. he never found a partner. never committed to a long-term romantic relationship. he doesn't think there's anything particularly sad about it, like some people seem to. he has all the things that are most important to him. packing up the house with brady, though, he gets a little lost imagining that this is almost what it would feel like. someone with him doing the quiet, annoying, domestic tasks that it takes to keep life moving along. it's not the first time he's put thought he'd like to have brady like that, but it is the first time in years. he's spent the last decade not thinking that, and he shouldn't start again now.

except it's brady who kisses him, sitting out on the dock at sunset, two beers in, their feet dangling above the water. it's romantic as hell, except then brady sticks a hand down quinn's shorts, which is not romantic, but quinn's not complaining. he doesn't really care about romance anyway. they spend a lot of the rest of the time they should be packing having sex all over the lakehouse, and quinn keeps thinking maybe it's a good thing they're selling the place, so when he and brady snap out of this weird hot summer daze, he won't have to relive it every off-season.

but they are adults now, so instead of leaving things hanging and hurting each other, they actually do have the long hard conversation about what brady wants and what quinn wants and how they can fit those things into their lives, with teams on opposite sides of the continent, with a kid involved, with such different needs when it comes to relationships like this. but they'll figure it out.