#elias voice hey i can cook now

[oleksiak-pettersson]

Pick Me - Elias Pettersson

howdy hey everybody! It's been a hot minute... sorry not sorry.

this is the first part of a three part series i've been cooking up in my head for a few years now. I want to emphasize that this is set in a completely fictional world and is complete AU. The Canucks featured in this fic don't play hockey in the story. The timeline is also not accurate to real life.

warnings: angst, a certain celebrity featured as the villain, pregnancy, labour, swearing, this is an AU, only Quinn still plays hockey, almost cheating, emotional cheating in a way (will be expanded on more in the next parts)

word count: 4.5k

Pick Me | Choose Me | Love Me

There’s nothing better than the warmth of a comforter wrapped around your body. You pull it closer around your body, not caring if it leaves your lover without.

Your eyes blink open slowly, arms clutching the pregnancy pillow to your chest, comforter wrapped around the pillow and over your body.

As your eyes blink open, once, twice, a third time, you notice that at some point in your restful slumber, you’d stolen the comforter completely from your husband. Never one to complain, Elias must’ve grabbed the second duvet from the hall closet.

Your husband is lingering in the bathroom, you can hear the sink running as he goes about his morning routine.

He must notice you moving, as he approaches softly. He’s freshly showered and the smile on his face is soft and mellow in the morning light.

“Hi,” you murmur, taking in his beauty as it’s illuminated by the golden sun. His blue eyes twinkle with fondness as they take in your sleepy form.

You stretch a little, turning over to the side of the bed he sits on. His hand comes up and brushes a stray eyelash from your cheek. He holds it up to show you and let you make a wish, a simple gesture you taught him in your early stages of dating. There’s a kind of tenderness to his touch that no one else could quite possess.

“Hi.” Elias smiles back, hand falling from your face to hold yours. “How did you sleep?”

“So good, these two didn’t move a bit.” You prop yourself up against the headboard, free hand coming to rest on your belly.

“Probably too exhausted from kicking you all day yesterday,” Elias jokes, his smile causing his eyes to crinkle. He leans forward and presses his lips against yours. It’s a soft and sweet kiss. His mouth is minty fresh from brushing his teeth and it makes you smile.

He’s slow to pull away and you chase his mouth as he goes. He chuckles softly, hand caressing your cheek. 

“I’ve got to go meet Brock and Quinn soon for golf, I made you breakfast, it’s on the counter,” he announces, standing back up and stretching.

“What no in bed delivery? The service here sucks,” you lilt, the teasing evident in your voice. Ever the drama Queen, Elias rolls his eyes leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll be back this afternoon, call or text if you need anything.” And with that he’s out the door.

You stretch as you get up, your back cracks and your belly feels heavier than normal. You feel like you’re resting lower than yesterday and there’s a weird feeling settling in your gut. You shake it off though, pulling on your lounging outfit. Your doctor had warned you about Braxton hicks contractions and you were sure that this feeling in your belly had to be that.

Your due date was fast approaching and you couldn’t wait. Pregnancy is hard enough but when you’re carrying twins it’s a whole other beast. You’re incredibly lucky to have such a kind partner who has taken such good care of you. Elias’ job as a content creator allows him to control his hours, unlike his good friend Quinn who captains the local Vancouver NHL team and whose schedule is rigid with intense travel.

It’s a slow waddle to the kitchen and you take it slow. One of your cats lounges in the middle of the hallway and you have to gently nudge her from your path with your foot. She mewls in uproar but does nothing to stop her movement. You have to lean against the wall in support to move her and your stomach twists once again. You take a breather against the wall, staring up at the popcorn ceiling.

Upon finally reaching the kitchen, you feel the need to sit down. The kitchen island chairs look incredibly unsupportive and the kitchen table has the worst chairs for relaxing. You let out a huff at the idea of having to move into the living room.

Your breakfast is still warm and you bring it into the living room to relax on the couch. The pain isn’t slowing down but instead seems to be moving up your back.

It’s just Braxton Hicks, you think. There’s no way I’m going into labour.

You find a comfortable position on the couch and rest your plate on your belly. Your feet come up to rest on the coffee table and you flick through the channels. 

The scrambled eggs and toast is just what you needed. The pain in your gut quells a little and you find the perfect spot on the couch to rest. There’s a throw blanket hanging on the back of the couch and you pull it over yourself.

Both cats follow your lead and curl up near you on the couch. You hold your hand out trying to call either into your lap, but neither take the bait. You sigh, moving slightly in an attempt to tuck the blanket under yourself but giving up quickly as you tire.

The curtains that cover the living room windows are wide open and the light from the mild spring day is bright but you can’t find it in yourself to get up. The simplest of actions, getting up and getting food, have exhausted you and your eyelids begin to feel heavy.

//

You wake up with a jolt of pain that causes your whole body to cease. The groan that leaves your mouth causes both cats to jump up from the couch and disappear down the hall.

The pain is intense and you briefly can’t move. It’s over as quick as it came on. You sit up on the couch trying to regulate your breathing. Your heart is racing as you throw the blanket off of your body and stand up. 

There’s no more denying it. You’re in labour. You need to find your phone and get a hold of your husband. It’s time.

The waddle down the hallway back to your bedroom feels like an eternity, you know there’s time before your next contraction will ripple through your body but you still feel a bit panicked. You twist your wedding ring around your finger as you go, trying anything to calm the fog of anxiety that’s beginning to descend around you.

Your phone is where you left it the night before, on the nightstand still plugged in to the charger. You’ve got a single notification, a text from Elias’ coworker Natasha Dion, inviting you out for brunch next week.

But there’s no time to respond to her. You need Elias. You perch yourself on the bed, legs holding you up as you focus on your phone.

You quickly unlock the phone, your face ID failing you - forcing a password attempt that you’re not too sure how you even managed to get the numbers correct. You close the instagram app sloppily, a leftover from last night's pre-bed scrolling session, and open your phone app.

Elias’ contact is the most recent number you’ve called and you waste no time clicking on it.

The phone dials up and the line begins to ring. You stifle a sob and try to take a deep breath as the line continues to ring. Your free hand cradles your belly. One of the twins moves beneath your hand, causing a little chuckle to leave your mouth.

“Mama will see you soon,” you murmur, the line continuing to ring in your ear.

Suddenly there’s a beep and Elias’ voice comes through. “Hey, you’ve reached Petey. Can’t get to the phone right now but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Shit,” you curse and then the beep sounds through. “Hi babe, it's me. Um, I think I’m in labour and I need you to get home uh, right away? Call me back please.”

You take another breath, trying to remember what they taught you in Lamaze class. You flick through your brain trying to recall the class you practised breathing. You can see the teacher saying something in your mind but you can’t hear it, you were too focussed on the feeling of your husband's rock hard abs against your back. It certainly hadn’t helped your breathing, to the point that the teacher had come over and corrected your breathing. Again though, Elias’ breath on your shoulder had distracted you.

Goddamn your sexy husband and his too-hot-to-handle existence. 

You decide to send him a text too.

To Hubby: Hi babe, can you call when you can? I’m pretty sure I’m in labour…

Another contraction convulses through your body. Your spine feels like it’s on fire and your belly tightens. You cry out vocally, trying to breathe rhythmically. You let yourself fall back against the pillows, just trying to get through the pain. You dig your fingers into the comforter, eyes screwing shut. It’s way worse than any period cramp you’ve ever had and you find yourself cursing your husband under your breath. Of course he can’t fucking be reached right now. Asshat.

Once the pain eases, you force yourself back up and grab your phone. There’s no new notifications and you resist the urge to cry. Then it hits you, Elias is golfing with Brock and Quinn. Brock’s phone is always on, something about never wanting to miss a call from his agent for the next big Hollywood hit or whatever, you don’t care about his reasoning right now but you’re thankful for him.

The phone starts to ring and you click the speaker phone option. It rings once before there's an answer. God bless Brock.

“Hello gorgeous mother of my future godchildren, how are you?” He answers, charming as always. 

“Hey Brock,” You chuckle at his greeting, trying to hide the tinge of pain behind your voice. “Can you give the phone to Elias? He’s not picking up and I think I’m in labour.”

There’s a pause on the other end and some shuffling. You think you can hear Bella in the background asking what's going on, that causes you to furrow your eyebrows. Why would Bella be golfing with them? She hates it as much as you do. Then you hear the phone being grabbed from Brock’s grip as he cries out a loud “hey!’.

“Babes, Petey isn’t here with us?” Bella states, sounding equally as confused as you.

“Put it on speaker,” Brock demands in the background, not as loud as Bella. The sound of the phone shifts slightly as she switches it.

“He said he was golfing with you and Quinn today.” You reply, groaning as another shockwave of pain runs over you. You groan loudly into the phone. The pain causes you to drop the phone on the bed and forget the phone call as you try to breathe it out.

“That’s impossible because Quinn is in-” Brock counters, slightly oblivious to your pain. You love him to death but he can be such a blonde sometimes.

“Brock, it doesn’t matter right now,” You can hear the annoyance in his girlfriend’s voice as she interrupts his thoughts. Her focus is quickly back on you. “Y/N, are you in labour?”

The cry of anguish you respond with clues her in immediately. She springs into action on the other side of the phone. “Brock, get the keys. We have to get her to the hospital.”

“No.” You cry out, pain subsiding slightly. 

“Y/N, babes, you’re in labour,” Bella levels, her calmest and most rational voice on full display. It’s what you need right not but the irrational part of your brain doesn’t want to leave without your husband. “Brock will keep calling Elias but we need to get you to the hospital.”

“Okay,” you relent, getting up from the bed slowly, you pick your phone up and head for the nursery.

“Do you need me to stay on the phone with you?” She asks, Brock is in the background stomping around the apartment. Anyone unfamiliar with the actor would think he’s mad, but knowing him, you know that’s just simply the way he moves. A lot less elegance than he looks like he may possess. 

“Yes please.”

///

In the time it takes Brock and Bella to get to your apartment, you manage to change and grab your go-bag before letting yourself relax on the couch. You achieved all of this between crippling contractions. 

Your favourite two people in the world let themselves in with the key they have to your apartment. They have sympathetic looks on their faces as they take in the sight of you on the couch. 

You must look like a mess, you’re sweaty and stressed. “Hi,” is all you manage from your spot.

“Hi gorgeous, ready to go become a mama?” Bella coos, squatting down in front of you. There’s a glimmer of excitement in her eyes and you can feel it now too. It’s slowly becoming real. You nod, holding out your arms so she can help you up. You brace against her arms as you get up, smiling gratefully.

Brock stands behind her sheepishly, flitting with his phone. His thumbs are moving a mile a minute and you hope to god that he’s talking to Elias and Elias is on the way.

“Is Elias going to meet us there?” There’s hope in your eyes that slightly breaks Brock’s heart.

In a split second decision, he lies. “Of course, so we should get going.”

Truth is, Brock has no fucking clue where his best friend is. He has no fucking clue why Elias lied about being with him. He sure as hell knows he’s going to chew out Elias’s ass the moment he tracks the Swede down.

The lie does seem to pacify you and Brock is quick to be at your side and help you to the car, Bella follows along behind, having grabbed the go bag. Brock leads you down the hallway as his girlfriend locks the apartment. 

///

Brock has never been more stressed in his life. He was once looking forward to having children of his own with his beautiful girlfriend but after driving you to the hospital in the state you were in, he’s not so sure. You cried out in pain nearly every 8 minutes on the way, Vancouver traffic never one to be considerate of a crisis.

The screaming from the back of his car had Brock white-knuckling the steering wheel and peaking sheepishly in the rearview mirror at Bella holding your hand. The pale look on his face nearly caused Bella to laugh, until you gripped her hand harder, head thrown back against the seat headrest. 

Between glancing back to make sure you’re okay and glancing at his Apple CarPlay in hopes of a response from your husband, Brock was struggling to pay attention to the road. 

Not the best attitude to take when driving a pregnant woman to the hospital. It caused your anxiety to skyrocket and Bella to yell at Brock which certainly did not help the situation.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Brock is quick to let you and Bella out at the emergency entrance, before circling around to go find a parking spot.

Bella has your elbow in her arm, supporting you as she guides you to the entrance. Your go-bag is over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” You murmur between breaths. The gratitude is quickly overtaken by a contraction though and you stop dead in the middle of the entryway, paralyzed with pain. Bella is quick to hold you up.

“Breathe, just like this,” her lips purse and she blows out her breath in a weird pattern. You copy along as a nurse approaches you. You recognize her as the nurse who does your check-ups.

“Hi Mrs. Pettersson, looks like we’re having these babies,” She smiles, coming to your other side and helping Bella guide you to the wheelchair an orderly brought over. You just nod your head, trying to follow along with Bella’s breathing technique. 

The orderly begins pushing you along to a room, the nurse lags behind with Bella. The nurse has a look of concern on her face as she turns to Bella.

“Where is Elias?” She inquires, she’d always admired how dedicated your partner was during check-ups. He always had questions and a detailed list of what you’d been experiencing since the last check-up. It had taken her by surprise when he wasn’t there but ever the professional, she’d schooled her shock.

“I don’t know, he should be arriving soon.” Bella supplies, speeding up to keep up with you.

The nurse nods her head and heads back to her station to grab her gear. Brock comes rushing through the door, spotting his girlfriend lingering outside of your room. 

The nurse slides between them to get into your room, the door is cracked as she begins to get you ready. Bella brings your go-bag in as you get changed into an IV-compatible gown. She plugs in your phone charger and checks to see if there’s an update from Elias. Your phone only shows a text from your mom. 

“Y/N, your mom texted, should I let her know?” She calls out to you.

Your reply comes muffled through the bathroom door. “Yes please.”

Both Bella and the nurse chuckle at your response. Bella is quick to shoot off the text, eyes lingering on where Brock is pacing outside the room. His phone is in one hand and the other is pulling at his gorgeous blonde locks in what can only be described as one of the most stressed actions she’s ever seen.

As you settle in the hospital bed and the nurse begins to fasten different machines to you. You’re oblivious to the stress emanating off of the actor outside of your room as you relax between contractions.

“Is it too late for an epidural?” You inquire sheepishly. Your nurse laughs.

Bella excuses herself and slips outside. She swears she shuts the door as she joins Brock outside. They can still see into your room, you’re chatting politely with your nurse as she fixes the blood pressure cuff around your bicep.

“Do you know when Elias will be here?” She asks softly.

Brock’s face drops as he turns away from the window. He’s seen your lipreading skills before and even though you’re distracted, he’s not taking the risk. “No.”

“Well what did he say when you talked to him?” Bella inquires, eyebrow peaked in interest. She also turns away from the window.

“I didn’t.” Brock says, eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t know where Elias is.”

“But you said-”

“I needed to keep her calm,” Brock makes eye contact with Bella, the love for you is clear behind his eyes and she softens at the admission. “She can’t know that he’s not coming.”

“He’s not coming,” Bella repeats, trying to wrap her head around the fact.

“What do you mean he’s not coming?” Your voice sounds from behind them; you’re standing in the doorway, gown-clad and attached to a mobile IV unit. The look of shock on your face breaks both Brock and Bella’s hearts. Your voice grows quieter. “You said he was coming”.

Brock reaches out to comfort you but you’re now freaking out like he’s never seen before. The heart rate monitor spikes and the nurse in the room rushes to get you into bed.

There’s so much emotion flowing through your body. You’re hyperventilating and want to scream. No one is prepared for the way you pass out. Brock and your nurse lunge to catch you, struggling to get you into the hospital bed.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Brock is also freaking out now.

The nurse has no time for him though as she reaches for a large red button on the wall. Bella stands idly in the doorway watching the chaos unfold. She’s frozen in shock, unsure what just happened and what she needs to do.

The nurse is quick to spring into action, and she peers over her shoulder at your two companions. “You both need to get out of here. We have to take her to the operating room.”

///

Elias’ phone is on the counter in the other room. He’d placed it on the kitchen counter as soon as he’d entered Vanessa’s luxury penthouse. He’d had to dance around baby toys sprawled around the floor but it made him chuckle thinking about how your apartment would soon look like that.

Elias had met Vanessa Morgan a year and a half ago when he and Natasha had helped with creating some ads for Riverdale’s production team. He kept his friendship with the actress on the lowdown from you. You’d been suspicious of her since you’d met her. She seemed weirdly obsessed with your husband, but Petey thought of her as a friend.

He’d offered to help her set up some of the baby furniture she hadn’t had the chance to before she’d had her baby three months ago. 

He’d already finished the changing table and the glider chair. Elias was working on the crib, the instructions almost confusing to him. He’d had no trouble putting the twin’s cribs together. To Elias, it was something a father-to-be should take pride in. 

It’s why Elias stepped up for Vanessa. Her baseball player husband had left her early in her pregnancy. He couldn’t comprehend how a man could up and abandon his family with no hesitation.

“How’s it going in here?” The short actress asks from the doorway. She’d just finished putting her little guy down for a nap, thankful she’d been wise enough to buy a bassinet for her bedroom for her baby’s first few months.

“I think you may have bought the most complicated crib in the world,” Elias laughs, looking up at his friend with a playful smile. “Did he go down for his nap easily?”

Vanessa nods, strutting into the room, she admires the other pieces of furniture he’s built in his couple of hours helping her. “I’m surprised you’re not with your wife today.”

Elias hums, his focus back on trying to fit the pieces together. “What do you mean?”

“She’s getting close to her due date, isn’t she?” She inquires, there’s a tone to her voice that Elias can’t quite place. The tone he can't quite place? Smugness. The kind of hubris possessed by a woman with ill-intentions.

“Yeah but all the boys in my family have arrived late,” Elias insists, twisting the screw driver. “She’ll be fine.”

Vanessa could point out that his wife is carrying twins and therefore more likely to have her babies early but why would she force Elias back into his wife’s arms? No, she’d much rather keep him to herself for as long as possible.

While Elias might think of Vanessa as his friend, Vanessa thinks of Elias in a less pg way. She’d been wanting to get into his pants since the first time they met. Of course she was married at the time, but it had never stopped her before. 

“You know, that looks like hard work,” She starts, adopting her most sensual voice. She’s determined to reel him in. “Why don’t I make you a snack?”

Elias is quick to agree and they both proceed to the kitchen. He leans against the kitchen counter as she scuttles around the kitchen. Vanessa hands him a glass of water that he accepts happily and sips slowly as he watches her.

“How’s the show going?” He asks, as she gathers condiments from the fridge.

She smiles at him, placing her ingredients down on the counter beside him. “It’s good, they’ve been really good about me staying back with River.”

Elias nods, thinking about how easy it’ll be for him to help out with the twins with his job that he can work from home. “That’s awesome. You’ve got a good support system, hey?”

“Yeah, I’m extremely grateful for everyone in my life,” Vanessa puts her butter knife down on the counter, turning to Elias and moving closer to him. She places a hand on his chest and begins to trail her fingers along the ridges of his body. “Especially you, you’ve been so good to me.”

Elias freezes, this must be what you meant when you said Vanessa had a weird energy to her when it came to him. She leans in close, and he can feel her breath on his face. He’s briefly amazed that such a short person can reach him so easily but then she closes her eyes and leans in.

He’s saved by the bell. Okay, maybe not quite a bell but the loud, shrill ringing of his phone is a close enough substitute. He dodges out of her reach to grasp his phone. Brock’s profile picture is on display and once he’s certain she’s not following him, he clicks the green connect button before retreating into the living room with his phone pressed against his ear.

“Hello?” Elias says into the phone, silently thanking whatever deity he can that Brock saved him.

“Dude where the fuck are you?” Brock starts, he sounds panicked and Elias is instantly worried. “Actually, I don’t fucking care. You need to get down to Vancouver General now.”

“Why? Brock, what’s going on?” Elias demands, pacing around the living room.

“Your wife went into labour. After finding out you weren’t coming, she passed out and had to be rushed into an emergency c-section to save the babies.” Brock recites robotically. Elias has never heard his best friend so angry at him. 

Then Brock’s words hit him. His heart stops, and he jolts to. “I’ll be right there.”

///

Elias is quiet as Brock and Bella lead him to your room. Neither of them could truly look at him after he’d told them where he was. He couldn’t blame them.

He was a bit of a wreck. He’d driven over the speed limit to get to you. He hadn’t been there when you needed him and something could’ve happened to you or your babies.

Your room is also quiet. There’s a small whimper coming from one of the bundles in your arms. He stops dead in his tracks, seeing you holding your twins is everything he’s ever wanted. You, the love of his life, with his children. And he missed their arrival.

“Hi,” He says, finally. He’d stood in the doorway somberly long after Brock and Bella had headed home. He’s sure Brock has already informed Quinn of what happened, that’s why his phone is blowing up in his pocket.

“Hello,” you reply coldly, without even looking up at him. Your eyes remain on your sweet boys the entire time. You’d known he was standing there since the moment Brock and Bella led him there.

Your reply is a sharp contrast to the way you’d been with him this morning. It’s shocking to Elias how a single day can change everything in a mere matter of hours.

“So, we’ve got sons.” He starts, dragging his feet on the floor as he walks over to occupy the seat beside your bed.

“Well, we knew that already.” You deadpan, finally looking up at him. There’s pure hurt behind your eyes and Elias wants to reach out and hold you but he knows better.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

You scoff. “Whatever.” 

Elias reaches for a baby and you hand him one.

“I’m here now and I’m not leaving.” He says, sure of himself. It’s too bad you don’t believe him.

Next Part

#elias pettersson #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #kylie writes hockey #gimme gimme gimme an elias after midnight #elias pettersson imagine #Kylies miniseries

[morganofthewildfire]

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Same Time Thursday - Elia's Question

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Rowan Week day 4: Dad Rowan @rowaelinscourt

eeee i love this oneshot so much, i hope you guys love it too

Credit to @justreadertings for her amazing headcanons that led me to this moment 🥺

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15 years later

Elia was nearly shaking as she walked into the kitchen that evening, her hand clutching the paper tightly between her fingers. She didn’t know if she wanted to know, and yet she did. She needed to. 

Her parents had sat her down a few years ago to tell her about him, but it had been vague and just the barest of information. To be fair, she was only thirteen at that point, but it still didn’t hit at that urge to know more, to understand. 

Now she understood too much.

Nausea rose in her stomach as she saw her dad standing in the kitchen by the stove, beginning to prepare their dinner for the night. Her mom was still at the bookstore, and so were her two youngest siblings, Emmett and Emilia. Emerson and Eden were over at Uncle Lorcan’s and Aunt Elide’s with their cousins, and Eliott was sleeping over at a friend’s. 

So it was just her and her dad home. Her dad. He was still her dad.

“Hey dad?” Elia asked, her voice shaky. 

“Hey baby,” her dad said warmly, not hearing her tone nor her face. He was still facing the stove, making some sort of sauce on the stovetop. Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius was the designated cook in the relationship, because it was common knowledge that Aelin Whitethorn-Galathynius could not cook to save her life. “How was ballet?”

Elia smiled weakly, walking slowly past the huge kitchen island to get closer to him. “It was good,” she fibbed. It’d been fine, they were working on their winter showcase and that was always fun, but her head had been so elsewhere that it had been a horrible rehearsal. 

Her dad turned to look at her then, his pale brows furrowed as he undoubtedly saw her emotions on her face. Then his gaze fell to what was in her hands and his face flattened into an expression of understanding.

“Where’d you find that?” He asked, not accusingly but lightly, like he was trying to keep the conversation comfortable. It was so him, so how he’d raised her her whole life that her eyes started watering. She sniffed to try and hide the tears, but she couldn’t, and her dad immediately turned to shut the stove off, crossing the space between them and enveloping her in a warm hug. 

Elia hadn’t meant to find the article. Maybe she had, she didn’t know. She’d been in her world history class, and they were doing a research project about big pop cultural moments in different countries in the past few decades. They’d spent the period today looking for sources and developing their research topics, and in a moment of morbid curiosity, Elia had typed his name in.

Arobynn Hamel

There’d been some basic biographical information at the top of the browser, but the link to this article had been right below. Feeling sicker and sicker, she’d read the whole thing, before shakingly asking her teacher to go to the library to print it out. 

Then she’d just stared at it until the bell rang, until she’d gone straight to dance and had to think about it for hours, until she could drive home, until now. 

“Everything’s okay,” her dad was murmuring to her, brushing her hair while she cried into his shirt. “It was a long time ago. He’s gone.” 

She wondered how often he had to say the same thing to her mom.

Elia pulled back slightly, wiping at her face and looking up at him. She was sixteen and nearly fully grown, but he still towered over her, well over six feet compared to her five feet and eight inches or so. 

She was her mom’s height, almost exactly. She had her mom’s nose, and her mom’s freckles, and her mom’s eyes. But not her mom’s hair.

“Can you tell me about him?” She asked quietly, wiping her eyes again, and her dad looked slightly surprised but nodded.

“Of course,” he said, gesturing for them to sit down at the island. Elia slid into one of the barstools, tucking her legs up under her. She’d changed into comfy clothes after getting home from rehearsal, and had taken out her tight bun, leaving her red hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. 

“What do you want to know?” Her dad asked, hooking his hands together on the kitchen counter. Their house was absurdly large, it had to be to fit six children and two full grown adults, but it always felt homey, and Elia had never appreciated that more than now.

“What was he like?” She asked, her voice trembling. Her dad loosed a heavy sigh.

“Well,” he said, “if I’m being honest, I only interacted with him once.” She was a little surprised by that, though she didn’t know why. She had no way of knowing all that had gone down in between her mom and dad meeting and his death, but she hadn’t expected that. 

“Once?” She asked, and he nodded. 

“He wasn’t exactly my biggest fan,” her dad said, smiling wryly, but Elia’s face just fell even more. He saw that and sighed again, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “I think I need to back up a little bit.” 

“Maybe,” Elia said, smiling slightly, and her dad chuckled a little bit, shaking his head.

“When I first met your mom, I was a complete asshole,” he said, smiling fondly, and Elia couldn’t help but laugh. “She put me in my place pretty quickly, and then I got to meet you.” He looked at her then with so much love that her eyes started watering again. “But that was just the beginning.”

And so he began to weave the story of Rowan Whitethorn and Aelin Galathynius, and how they’d ended up here. How he’d gotten pulled into her troubles in a little bit of a whirlwind, but once he realized what was going on had done everything possible to help. 

How slowly, her mom began to open up to him, and how he began to fall for her, but how he’d fallen for Elia first. Elia had known about her dad’s own past, and the child he’d lost, but it hurt all over again to see the tears in his eyes as he’d mentioned it. No matter how long it’d been, she was sure the wound still ached.

She squeezed his hand back at that part of the story.

She had tears in her own eyes the further along he got, especially when he got to the car wreck that they’d been in together. Elia had no memories of it of course, she’d been so young, but she’d heard the story many times. At least - how her dad’s car seat had saved her life. Not necessarily how they’d gotten into a wreck, that was new.

“The only time I met Arobynn Hamel was at Mistward,” her dad said, and Elia blinked in surprise, recognizing the name of her favorite coffee shop. “You were just a little over a year old at this point,” he continued, his eyes shadowed by decades old fear. “Aelin used to leave you with Emrys, to babysit.” Elia loved Emrys. He was a lot older now, but just as warm as he’d been when she was a kid. “But after that exam, we got back to the cafe to pick you up. We were going to go on vacation, for Yulemas, but we were too late.” A pit formed in her stomach. “Arobynn was there already - holding you.” 

Her dad hesitated to say the last part, and she knew why. She couldn’t remember it, but she was sure it’d been traumatic for her parents to walk in and see that. For her mom especially, to see her daughter in the hands that had brutalized her again and again. 

“I was so scared,” her dad said quietly, shaking his head, his voice full of emotion. “And angry, that you’d been pulled in as a pawn in his sick games.” 

Elia felt nauseous. 

“I assume you read it in the article,” her dad continued, “that your mom was forced to go back with him, and take you.” He sighed heavily, and tears pricked her eyes again. “She’s the bravest person I’ve ever known, and I will forever admire her strength, but waking up that morning to you two gone was the worst day of my life.” 

“Why did she do it?” Elia whispered. She knew why, but she needed to hear it again. Her dad pressed a quick kiss to her hand. 

“Because he was going to take you away, and I think your mom would rather die herself than see that happen,” he said, and Elia nodded, absorbing the information. 

A minute passed in companionable silence. Until -

“Fourteen, dad,” she whispered, “she was fourteen.” 

“I know,” he replied, and she could hear the utter heartbreak in his voice and see it in his face too. “I know.” And Elia couldn’t stop herself from leaning in to hug him again, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He hugged her back immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Why don’t you talk to her about this?” He asked after he pulled back. “If it’s bothering you.”

“I don’t want to…” she trailed off, feeling shy. Her face was probably red. But he guessed it, smiling slightly. 

“Upset her?” He asked, and she nodded, realizing how silly it was. “Sweetheart, your mom went back to a monster to protect you. I think she would actually really appreciate knowing you felt comfortable talking to her about it all.” 

“You’re right,” Elia said, nodding and tucking her hair behind her ear. But - “how is she? How does she handle it all?” 

Her dad sighed, running a hand through his hair briefly. Sometimes she forgot how young her parents were. All of her friends had parents well into their forties, well into middle age. Her dad was 37, and her mom was only 36.

“She has good days and bad days,” he said honestly, “about what you’d expect.” Elia nodded in agreement. She didn’t think you could get away from that unscathed. Even if she couldn’t even imagine it, nor did she really want to picture it happening to her mom. Her mom, the woman who’d given birth to her at the young age of twenty, who’d raised her as a single mom until Rowan came along, who’d been by her side day by day, year by year. 

She didn’t even want to think about it. She just wanted to go upstairs and cuddle with Fleetfoot, the dog her mom had gotten for her over a decade ago. Fleetfoot was getting pretty old, but she was still Elia’s favorite cuddle buddy. 

“Thanks for talking to me,” Elia said after a minute, not looking at her dad. She wiped her face and stood up off of the barstool, unable to process the emotions still swirling inside of her. She couldn’t process what was actually bothering her - what her place was in all of this. 

“Any time,” her dad said, standing up too and looking at her fondly. “I hope I answered what you were looking for.” Elia nodded vaguely again, turning to face the hallway, like she was going to leave. Until she blurted out -

“You’re my real dad, right?” 

There was a pause, slight tension hanging in the room as she fought the turmoil inside of her. The turmoil she felt every time she looked in the mirror and saw herself, saw the mixing of her mom’s and his features. The turmoil she felt as she wondered if she was a constant reminder to her mom of the pain she’d felt. If the horror that she’d been conceived in somehow meant that something about her was fundamentally … wrong.

He still wasn’t answering, so Elia started rambling, desperate to fill in the silence. “Like, I know you are and of course you are, you’ve always been there for me and you love me, but sometimes I look at Eliott, and I look at Emerson and Eden, and Emilia and Emmett and I wonder if I’m too different.” Her vision was blurry as she looked back at her dad, his face tender and sorrowful. “If something in me is broken and still connected to that man. If somehow… I’m not good enough to be part of this family.” 

“Hey,” her dad cut her off, stepping forward and resting his hands on her shoulders. “It does not matter whatsoever if you have red hair or silver hair or blonde hair,” he shook his head. “You’re always going to be my daughter.” The words were sincere and her throat became tight with emotion. “The day you first called me dad was one of the best days of my life. This family would not be the same without you,” he insisted. “Not at all, okay?” 

Elia sniffed and nodded, feeling the words wash over her. Her dad let the words sit for a moment before leaning in and kissing her forehead once. 

“I love you, firefly,” he said, using her old nickname. “Don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to us about this stuff alright? We’re here for you.” 

“I know,” she said quietly, “I love you, too.” Silence fell, and she stayed in it for a minute, before saying, “I think I will talk to mom about it,” sniffing and nodding at the words. Her dad smiled softly. 

“I’m glad,” he said, before reaching out and ruffling her hair, making her laugh. 

Just then, the sounds of the lock in the front door jiggling hit her ears and Elia turned, seeing the door open and her mom walk through. 

“I’m very sorry you left your toy,” she was saying to Emmett, who was clutching her leg as she was trying to walk and crying. “But I’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll grab it then. We’re not going back tonight.” 

“But mama-” Emmett started whining, and her mom just huffed, maneuvering awkwardly with the weight on her as she turned to shut the door behind them. At two years old, he was still a basket case.

Seven year old Emilia was skipping around them both, giggling about something or other, and the chaotic sight was so familiar it made Elia laugh, even with her puffy eyes. 

“Daddy!” Emilia suddenly shouted, racing over to where their dad had moved back to the stovetop, turning it on again. He let out an oof as Emilia collided with the back of his legs, and paused cooking again to bend down and pick her up, setting her on the counter next to him.

After seeing that, Emmett was immediately fine, and followed his older sister’s steps, running and jumping at their dad too. He just chuckled and bent down to pick him up, holding him with one arm as he went back to cooking. 

But not before shooting a wink at her. 

“Kids,” her mom huffed jokingly, kicking off her shoes in the hallway, taking off her tote bag and hanging it up on the rack where it hung every time she was home. “Hey sweetheart,” she said, when she noticed Elia standing nearby. “How was your day?” 

In almost the same exact amount of time as her dad, her mom noticed something was off, and her brows furrowed. Elia just walked up to her, giving her a big hug. Her mom was briefly surprised, but hugged her back, kissing her cheek warmly. 

Elia was nearly crying again as she pulled back, especially as her mom tucked a piece of her red hair behind her ear. She breathed in shakily before asking “Can we talk?”

----

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#rowan week #rowanweek #stt #throne of glass au #throne of glass #throne of glass fanficiton #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part V/VII)

"the perfect excuse"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadowss @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley19 @dianarte

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: language, drinking, makeout getting spicy

A/N: idk what happened here, this was not planned I'm just horny ig??? Anyway have this part that was definitely not meant to unfold like this but hey, I'm not mad, so enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I checked myself in the mirror one last time before heading to the kitchen. There was no actual need of dressing up nicely, since we both would be spending New Year's Eve at the flat, but since Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione were coming, we decided to clean up for our guests.

"Hmm, smells good." I leaned on the doorframe, observing George finishing cooking.

"These past five months' messes paid off." He joked, grabbing a kitchen rag to clean his hands. "Can you keep an eye on it while I go get read..." He trailed off automatically when his gaze landed on me. "Woah— okay." He cleared his throat, eyes slightly widened at my outfit, and I couldn't help but enjoy a bit too much his attention. "You look really good— is that the new blouse?"

"Yup." I replied, a coy smile dancing on my lips as I stepped to him and picked the kitchen rag myself. "C'mon, go clean up nice for our guests."

It only took him a couple of minutes, since he might have had his suit ready.

"Mind lending a hand with the tie, love?" He requested, stepping into the kitchen with his attention on the shirt's cuffs which he was buttoning up.

Damn, he looked so good; it wasn't even fair.

"Y/n?" He chuckled, finally looking up.

"Uh— yeah! Sure." I threw the rag over the counter and led my hands to the tie, taking my time to make the knot; maybe I wanted an excuse to have my hands on him.

We stayed in silence until I was finished; it wasn't an awkward silence, but it wasn't comfortable either— it was, in fact, stifling.

"There you go." I more like whispered instead of talking, sliding my hands down his chest briefly. His eyebrows were knitted, trying to decipher my demeanor; his hands caught one of mines before they fell limply on my sides, and for a second, I thought he was about to do something really stupid —something I had wanted to do for the last three months—, but then the bell rang and we stepped away from each other, going to receive Ron and Hermione as if that moment hadn't happened at all.

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

GINNY'S P. O. V.

I took a sip of my brandy as we laughed at Ron's joke, my eyes drifting to Hermione and then to Y/n's lap, where Teddy rested, giggling and blabbering nonsense at George's hand movements and funny faces.

George had confided me quite ashamed that he fancied Y/n about two years ago, but I knew the looks he gave her were of something more than a little crush, if you may.

Had I not known Y/n, I would be worried she was projecting Fred onto the younger twin, but the girl knew better than that, so when we got to experience how their domestic life unfolded during New Year's Eve, I felt nothing but happiness at the way Y/n laughed at my brother's jokes, or how she stared at him in pure adoration as he played with Tonks's and Lupin's baby.

"You're getting him waaay too exited, mate." Harry chuckled, extending his arms for Y/n to hand him the toddler. "He needs to go to sleep."

Teddy, who we had put to sleep in Y/n's room shortly after dinner, had woken up right before the New Year came to us, and, since he refused to go back to sleep, Y/n took on the task of entertaining him. George joined as soon as he witnessed Teddy's hair going rainbow-like at Y/n's actions.

"Actually, I think we all need to go to sleep." I said, leaving the glass on the table.

"Boo, you're supposed to be the youngest!" Y/n whined, earning a laughter from the rest.

"Ginny's right, though." Ron stood up and all of us followed his lead. "It's really late and I don't want mum to see us drunk when she wakes up."

"Not a good impression to make on your future mother-in-law, oi, Granger?" George's tease made Hermione's cheeks flush, murmuring an 'idiot' before giving him a hug. "Take care, all of you." He added after he and Y/n had hugged everyone goodbye.

The five of us exited the flat and apparated in the Burrow's yard in silence until Harry asked, "are they together now?"

"We don't know." I confessed with a grimace.

"Well, together or not, they're definitely fucking."

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, slapping her boyfriend's arm.

"I just said what everyone else's thinking." He defended himself, and none of us could deny it.

READER'S P. O. V.

We began to pick up the dirty plates, glasses and cutlery in order to take them to the sink and leave them there to wash them tomorrow.

"Oi, look what I found." George wiggled a firewhiskey bottle at me from the living room.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed the half empty ice cream tub I had just left over the counter, a couple of clean glasses, and I made my way to George.

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

"—and that was only in our... Third- no- fourth! year?" He finished the story, joining me in the giggling; I didn't doubt the story was funny, but I was sure it seemed ten times funnier because of the alcohol. "Wait- where were you back then?" He knitted his brows in confusion.

"A year below you." I laughed.

He snorted. "Below me," he took a look at his empty glass before reaching for the bottle with a laugh "hell, I wish."

I couldn't help but laugh too. "Sure you do." I wouldn't have laughed if I were sober, but then again I highly doubted he would have said that if he were sober. "Y'know- you can have me below you anytime you want, Georgie." I replied between lazy giggles, leaning on him so he would pour more firewhiskey into my glass too.

A loud snort left George, triggering one of my own. "Sure, darling." He loosened his tie and tossed it to the floor. "Why's it so hot in here?"

"Mmm... Must be 'cause of you." I threw my head back to stare at the ceiling. "Or... maybe's just the alcohol." I groaned at the feeling of my head spinning, and sat upright again to chunk the now full glass in one go. "I'm hot too."

"Oh darling... You can't even imagine how much— I mean... Every day— but tonight you look partic... particular...ly? Dashing." George was leaning back against the armchair's feet, his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed and an amused smile dancing on his lips. "Why must you be so bloody perfect?" I found myself staring a bit too much at the ginger. "There's still a conscious part of my brain that knows I shouldn't be saying this shit." An idle chuckle left his chest and one of his eyes peeked open. "I'm gonna blame the alcohol, aight?"

Right, the alcohol —The perfect excuse.

I laid my glass on the floor and got up, stumbling towards him. "Oi, careful— you don't wanna trip and fall." He laughed, steadying me with his hands as I plopped down on my knees besides him. "We won't make it to St. Mungo—" With one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek, I went for it, cutting him mid-sentece in the process.

It was one hell of a sloppy kiss, and I was so concentrated on doing it right that I didn't even hear the moan I sent into his mouth.

What the hell are you doing?, My mind screamed.

I attempted to pull away, but I felt George's hands on my sides, clutching my clothes in his fists to tug me flush against him. I took the cue and did my best to climb onto his lap and straddle his legs without losing balance.

What we were doing felt terribly wrong, and, the morning after, we would regret this little slip so much, but in that exact moment I could only think that his lips tasted like fire whiskey, strawberry and chocolate, and that the quiet moans slipping through them between the kisses were loud enough to quiet down everything in my head.

I stopped to take a breath, resting my forehead against his; our eyes locked, pupils blown out.

Heavy pants left our lungs, as if we had just run a marathon. It felt like the kiss had made a bomb go off, one that we had unconsciously been building up those past months.

It took an instant of looking at each other to know we thought the same; we wouldn't get this opportunity ever again, so at that point, we might as well carry on and pray for it not to be too bad in the morning.

This time it was George who smashed his lips against mines, teeth clashing and tongues going in each other's mouths. The situation was escalating quick; a tad too quick, I daresay.

He cursed and mumbled something about too many clothes, proceeding to pull his shirt over his head with my help, given that he could only do so much with that amount of alcohol in his sistem.

I could do even less, though. It was proven when I first attempted to get rid of my blouse.

I struggled to unbutton it, an awkward, dizzy silence falling among us before his hands travelled to mines "Wait... Lemme..." He frowned, finding that simple task as frustratingly difficult as I did. "Bloody..." A browned off grunt left his swollen lips.

"Tear it." I mumbled, letting my hands roam over his chest.

"You sure?"

I hummed, somehow impatient. "We'll fix it tomorrow." I captured his lips once more.

We'd fix it tomorrow.

I felt his hands fisting my shirt by the cleavage before giving it a firm tug, making my gasp; I wasn't expecting all the buttons to come off in one go, given his drunken state.

I didn't even have time to discard the piece of clothing before his lips attacked my neck, shutting my brain off instantly due to the sensation.

"You want this?" He whispered in my ear, his hands going up from my thighs to my back until they reached the clasp of my bra.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded vigorously, making the world shake around me so hard that I had to shut my eyes.

I felt a feather kiss on my shoulder and his fingers unfastening the bra; he was doing his best to be smooth, which wasn't a lot, but I could tell he was trying hard.

"You're so sweet." I blurted out as his fingertips ghosted over my skin while he removed the top from my body.

He tried to reply something, but articulating kept getting harder and harder as we went deeper into it, so he gave up on words and so did I; at least until his fingers slid between my legs and started to tease me through the fabric of my remaining clothes.

"Bed." I whimpered, unconsciously rocking my hips against George's hand whilst my own travelled to his crotch, feeling his erection and consequently earning a moan from him.

"D'you think we'll make it?" He inquired, already retreating his hand briefly so we could stand up.

Soon enough we were stumbling to my room, hands all over each other, bumping against the furniture and walls due to not being able to stand upright.

When we fell on the bed and tossed the rest of our clothes to the floor, it began to dawn on me how bad this was going to be.

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

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

My head was pounding violently in my skull; that's most likely the reason why I woke up. It took a moment for the blurry memories of the previous night to flash into my mind.

"You feel... so good..."

"Fuck- George— faster, please..."

"Y/n— I'm-"

"No." I shoot up, not acknowledging that Y/n was still asleep by my side. "Fuck no. Nononono." I ignored the terrible headache caused by the hungover and, grabbing my clothes, I exited the room. "No fucking way." I kept mumbling to myself, stalking to my dorm to throw on some fresh clothes.

I sat on my bed, my hands running through my locks, bringing back the memories of Y/n's tugs on them in the process.

"What the fuck did I do." I almost choked on the sentence.

#harry potter fanfiction #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley x reader angst #george weasley smut #george weasley series #george x reader #george x reader fluff #george weasley fic #George x reader smut #George weasley lemon #george weasley fanfic #fred weasley x reader

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Tag list form

A/n: hello peoples!! I’m so excited to FINALLY post the first chapter of this fic!!! I’ve been working on it for a long time, and after a few unpleasant delays, it’s finally happening 😁. While this isn’t my first fic, this is my first NHL fic, and the first fic I’m posting on Tumblr, so I’m a little nervous. This first chapter is mostly the set up to the main story, this is reader’s side of things with a flashback story. Chapter two will be mostly from Elias’s point of view. The rest of the chapters will switch back and fourth between the two.

CREDIT: Finally, before we get started I have to shout out my proofreaders. Y’all put up with me and my insanity: @siriushxney @iateyourdonuts @petey-patty @hufflepuff-girlx @cherrylita @immmbabyyygraceee @💕💕And specifically @imagines-r-s ASH!!! Babes, you have been the best and most supportive friend I could’ve asked for during this. You boosted my confidence about this fic and I have no idea what I’d do without you 😁😁

Without further ado, let’s get started shall we!! (Sorry for the long A/N, it’ll only be for this first chapter)

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of cursing, friends with benefits but like...just cuddling???, references to iCarly, mentions of One Tree Hill.

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: (i suggest having these ready before you read)

Y/C/N/N= your cute nick name, only Markstrom calls you it (you’ll see why) this can be either a pet name you like, or a nick name you already have.

Y/N/N= your nick name, Brock, Quinn, and a few others call you this, it’s more of a playful name. Again, this can be a nickname you already have (if you don’t have one I suggest something stupid (sounds like something Stech or Brock would come up with)

Y/N= this is your first name, only Elias calls you this unless it’s a serious situation, or you’re in trouble, or Brock is being an ass. (If it wasn’t clear before...your last name is Boeser)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: you have a hardcore crush on your brothers best friend, who also happens to barely speak to you...it’s a slight predicament.

--------------------------

(This is set in the 2021 season, however, because of my denial, Marky and Stech are still in Vancouver and were never traded... also no Covid. however the season was still delayed just to make it easier to follow.)

Present (Feb. 2021)

You’ve always been best friends with your older brother, you never had any real issues when you were younger and you were inseparable. So much so in fact, that once you graduated early a little less than two years ago (June 2019), he asked you to move to Vancouver and live with him. He was always so protective of you and you appreciated everything he has done in your life. One of the best parts about Brock being your older brother was the people he introduced to you. You aren’t very social and god knows how much of a people person your brother is. Once you had moved in, Brock quickly introduced you to the team. And with your double major in Statistics: Data Sciences and Sports Management, you were able to secure a job with the team. Quickly, you found yourself with a second family, one with many members.

Quinn Hughes is your best friend. when you met him about a year and a half ago, you hit it off immediately. With both of you being the same age and not very social, there was an obvious connection there. When Brock and The boys  go out, it is you and Quinn who stay in and watch shows on the couch (your favorite being New Girl). Huggy Bear is so sweet and you tell him EVERYTHING, even things you’d never tell your brother. You are still thanking the draft lottery every day that the Canucks received the 7th overall pick that gave you your bestie.

Thatcher Demko AKA Dems AKA Thatch AKA baby goalie is the sweetest and most hilarious guy you know. He is always looking after you just like Brock, but he is also one of the most annoying guys you know. When you’d first met you had the biggest crush on him. You told Quinn as much and he gave you so much shit for it. That crush was short-lived though, once you found out how obnoxious he could be. You still love him, just as a friend. Though Quinn never forgets to remind you of the crush that once was.

Bo Horvat is like another big brother to you. Sure you have Brock, but he’s your best friend. Bo, however, is the person you go to when you needed advice. Holly is one of the only WAGs you’ve become close with. She and you consistently have wine and gossip nights, of which Quinn is sometimes in attendance. Plus, you and Quinn are an amazing babysitting team for Gunnar if you have anything to say about it. 

Troy Stecher is the annoying older brother you never had. He always makes fun of you, calls you names, and bullies you in the loving way brothers do. And he never hesitates to come to you if he ever needs girl advice, which seems to happen a lot.

JT was just like Bo, except he is waaay more protective of you, maybe even a bit more than brock. He doesn’t have a sister and when you met, he made it his job to never see you get hurt. Seriously, one day a guy was bugging you at the bar, and both Brock and Bo were struggling to hold him back when he saw him slap you on the ass as you walked away. 

Jacob Markstrom, AKA Marky, AKA Giraffe (pronounced like it is in one of your favorite vines), AKA your cuddle buddy for the past few seasons. Both being single, you felt lonely sometimes and Quinn wasn’t much of a hugger (despite what the nickname might have you believe). Thatcher had offered but Marky, though just as social, is much more laid back. It also helps that he is 6’6 putting him over a foot taller than you. So during movie nights, or late nights at the bar, he is the side you lean on. Of course, you made it abundantly clear to most of the boys and yourselves that you were just friends. As sweet as he was and as great of a boyfriend as he would’ve been, he wasn’t quite your type and your personalities clashed.

Then there was Elias Pettersson, the tall, skinny, Swedish guy you knew as Petey. The guy who looked at you often and barely spoke a word directed towards you. He was Brock's best friend and he came over all the time, you didn’t have an issue with him, and you couldn’t deny he was funny, and from what you’ve heard he is a very kind person. So naturally, he was exactly your type. You’ve had a massive crush on him for a while now, somehow despite the lack of conversation. And the few times he has talked to you, he’s seemed so perfect, but there are only a few times you can remember. 

Right now, as you're on your way to the Canuck’s break room your brother texted you to meet him in, you try to recall those few times, specifically the one where your crush on him truly developed.

--------------------------

FLASHBACK (some time in January, 2020)

--------------------------

You, Quinn, and Jacob were laying on the L-shaped couch in ‘The Boeser apartment’, you were cuddled under the blanket with Jacob, laying on the section perpendicular to the TV, your heads at the corner. Quinn was on the other side of the couch, his head right next to yours. it was about 7 o’clock and the episode of One Tree Hill you were watching had just ended and you three had not eaten dinner yet. As the countdown for the next episode started, your stomach growled and you got a look from Quinn and a giggle from Jacob. 

“You hungry Y/C/N/N?” Jacob asked.

You looked up at him and giggled, “maybe just a little bit.”

“Y/N/N, you know what sounds amazing?” Quinn asked, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to each other and you both smirked knowing you were thinking the same thing.

“Spaghetti tacos!!” You both said. 

Ever since you were about 10 and you watched iCarly on TV, you had always wanted to try them. It had become an inside joke between you and Quinn for quite some time as he had the same desire as you to see how good they actually were.

“We should totally try them tonight!!” Quinn was quite excited.

“I’m so confused right now,” Jacob chimed in.

“They’re from a show! They take spaghetti and put it in taco shells,” you explained.

“Ahh, hence the name.” he nodded.

“Exactly,” Quinn said.

You jumped up from the couch excitedly and ran straight to your kitchen.

“Ok, we have spaghetti, spaghetti sauce, ground beef, taco shells, aaaand..... by chance do either of you know how to make good meatballs?”

“You’re asking the Swedish guy if he knows how to make meatballs?” Jacob replied.

“Not Swedish meatballs, Italian, stupid Giraffe,” you retorted. 

“Gross,” he said with a disgusted look.

“Ooo my mom made the best Italian meatballs, let me call her to see if she can send me the recipe!” Quinn said with a big smile.

Quinn exited the kitchen and ran to your room to call his mom. 

“You know, I’ve never seen him so excited about anything,” Marky said with a laugh. 

“Quinn loves his food,” you replied.

“Are Brock and Thatch having dinner with us ?”

“I’ll ask.”

You started boiling the water for the pasta, and you cooked part of the ground beef for the meat sauce. Then you texted Brock:

Y/N/N: hey, you want me to make you dinner

Brock: Yeah, who all is there?

Y/N/N: the usual

Brock: Huggy and Marky?

Y/N/N: yep, so do you want some?

Brock: Yeah, and make enough for another person too

Y/N/N: ok

You figured it was Dems since that’s who he went to hang out with when he left 5 hours ago. 

You continued to cook when Quinn came in and grabbed a bunch of stuff from the pantry and cabinets. “Did your mom tell you how to make them?” you questioned your frantic best friend.

“Yes she did and she sent me the recipe too.”

“Coolio,” you reply.

------------------------

You were almost done cooking, the pasta was done, Quinn had put his meatballs in the oven and there were only 5 minutes left on the timer. And the sauce had about 2 minutes to simmer.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot what to do when they're almost done, she does this thing, I have to call her,” Quinn said with a panicked look on his face. He ran back to your room.

The front door to your apartment opened quickly, both boys laughing, “ahh, shit,  my brother’s calling me,” Brock said as he ran back to his room.

“Why does everyone feel the need to exit the room for phone calls?” you asked Jacob.

He shrugged with a giggle, “I don't know, maybe they don’t trust us,” he said in a sarcastically dramatic tone grasping his chest.

The door closed slowly and you glanced at the doorway where you thought you’d see the ever adorable goalie, Thatcher Demko, instead, you saw the adorable, slender, tall blonde you’d seen all the time, but never had a one on one interaction with... except the first time you met, when he told you that you looked pretty.

“Hi, Petey!” Jacob said as he slipped behind you to watch you mix the sauce, he stood over you looking at the sauce and put his hand on your waist.

“Hi,” he replied, his smile from before had faded.

“Looks so good Y/C/N/N,” Jacob said with a kiss on your cheek, a regular action. 

“Thanks, Giraffe, can you grab the taco shells?”

He grabbed them easily from the top shelf (tall ass bitch -_-), and moved behind you, placing his hands on your waist yet again, to move you to the side. “I've gotta run to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back”

“Ok, you have fun with that,” you said with a wink.

Suddenly, was only you and Elias in the room, and the silence was deafening.

“So what are we eating?” he said, pulling your attention to his bright blue eyes.

“Um, spaghetti tacos, they're from a tv sho-”

“Like from iCarly?” he interrupted.

“...Uh yeah? How'd you know?” you couldnt pull your attention away from his eyes, ‘they are just so beautiful,’ you thought somehow you hadnt noticed this within the on and a half years you’d known him.

“We also get Nickelodeon, you know,” he said while throwing you a smirk that made your stomach flip. 

“Oh, I didn't know that,” you replied, feeling just a little embarrassed. 

“iCarly was my favorite, actually.” 

“Yeah, it was mine too,” you said, smiling back, looking at the way he just lit up your kitchen with his presence.

You both stood there for a second just looking at the other, “So how long have-,” he started.

“OKAY,” Quinn unknowingly interrupted, “so she told me what to do, turns out I have to put sauce over them for the last 2 minutes, so Y/N/N can you just put a tablespoon of sauce on each ball then put them back in for two minutes?” 

“Yeah of course. Elias, you were saying?” you looked back at the Swede.

“Oh it's nothing,” he looked down at his shoes. 

“Ok, Y/N/N you need to call mom and tell her we’re fine and that she doesn't need to worry about us please, Paul says she’s stressing,” Brock said as he entered the room.

“When is she not stressing about us? I’ll call her after dinner, how's dad?”

“Doin’ good, nothing has changed or progressed or whatever since we were home last,” Brock moved and sat on the couch letting out a big sigh.

“That’s good,” you let out a sigh.

“Petey, come here, we’re watching Gossip Girl” Brock shouted at the Swede.

“Ooo what episode are you guys on?” you asked. Brock had mentioned how he was making him watch the show you two had watched about 5 times together. 

“Just after Chuck gets Dan kidnapped at Yale.” 

“Oh so you still hate Chuck?” you asked Elias.

“Ew, yeah...wait is that gonna change?” Petey said with a scoff.

“Uh....,” you stalled.

“Y/N shut up, don't spoil it,” Brock interrupted before you could make it worse.

“Ok well, dinner is ready so just start the show after and we can all watch it together.”

--------------------------

“Oh my god, these are actually amazing,” Quinn said with his mouth full.

“I know, I did not think this was gonna taste good,” Jacob added.

“Hey!” you said, offended.

“Y/C/N/N, you know I love your cooking, it was the idea of the meal that I doubted,” Jacob said leaning into your side and putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Mmmhmm, suuure,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Hallå Marky, ni två är söta (hey Marky, you two are cute),” Petey said, confusing you, Quinn and Brock with the sudden change in language.

Jacob, being oblivious to what Petey was implying, just said, “tack broder (thanks, bro).”

Little did you know what was going on in Elias’s head.

--------------------------

PRESENT

--------------------------

Before that night, you never really thought of Elias in a romantic way. You'd been around him quite a lot, seeing as how, seemingly, is in your apartment more than his own. Sure, you knew he was cute and very sweet from what you'd seen, but up until that point, you'd never had a one-on-one interaction with him. That interaction, however small, was the beginning of an obsessive crush. Quinn was the first to point it out, you started listening closely any time he talked, attempting to converse with him, and thinking about him on a daily basis even when you didn't see him. And due to your stubbornness, no matter how unrequited your crush seemed, it never faltered. You had always thought he hated you, or maybe he just tolerated you because you were Brock’s sister, and you were always around. 

However, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

--------------------------

Tag list: @calgarycanuck @suffering-canucks-fan

#from a distance: series #pls let me know what you think!! #hockey #nhl #elias pettersson #vancover canucks #elias pettersson fic #brock boeser #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson imagines #elias pettersson imagine #vancouver canucks imagines #vancouver canucks fic #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

[hockey-fics]

I didn't know you already had a request with number 47! so maybe number 13 from the angsty prompt list with petey? please?

Thank you for the request! 

Prompt: “You did a wonderful job convincing people that you love me, I almost fell for it” with Elias Pettersson 

Warning: insinuations of sex

Word Count: ~3,400

Moving to Vancouver was a big step for you. But the job was too good to turn down and the apartment you found was a little too perfect and all the pieces just fell into place too easily to not do it. 

The transition was difficult though. Your workplace was smaller than you expected and almost everyone who worked there was much older than you. Meeting people in the new city was hard. It was cold and rained all the time and you found navigating the larger city difficult, getting lost more time than you would care to admit. 

But then you met him. 

Elias. 

He had stepped through the apartment lobby doors, hesitating when he saw you struggling to drag a box that contained the pieces of a desk you had ordered online. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The desk would fit perfectly against the window in the den of your apartment, it was absolutely beautiful, and it was on sale. But now that you alternating between bouts of yanking or shoving it across the all too big lobby you were beginning to wish you hadn’t made that purchase. 

“Do you want some help?” Elias had asked. 

You had looked up at him, immediately caught off guard. His voice was soft, an accent that you couldn’t immediately place. He was tall and handsome with intriguing blue eyes and a reassuring smile. 

“I-,” you started, standing up straighter and glancing down at the box. You hated asking for help, even when someone was offering. Hated it even more when it was a stranger. But at the rate you were going that desk wasn’t even going to get into your apartment for a sizeable amount of time. 

Before you even have a chance to deny the help he was offering he had stepped closer, silently letting you know that it was okay for you to say yes. 

“Thank you,” you breathed out in relief as he leaned down to pick up the opposite end of the box. Together the two of you navigated the box into the elevator and up to your apartment. 

Elias had helped you bring the box into your apartment. You introduced yourself to him before he left and when you mentioned that you were new to the city Elias had given you his number, told you to call him if you needed anything at all. 

And for awhile you didn’t contact him. Not because you didn’t want to. Truth be told you would have loved to have called him because the city still felt so lonely and he truly seemed like such a nice guy. But every time you contemplated it the idea was outweighed by worry that you would be annoying him. 

But then a few weeks later you were having a truly catastrophic day. Like always you left for the skytrain, because it was just as quick as driving and you didn’t have to pay for parking at work. But you ended up being late, missing your train and being a few minutes late to work. Where you were immediately berated by your manager despite your apologies. And you tried to put that behind you but throughout the rest of the day you were slightly frazzled and nothing seemed to be going smoothly. By the time the work day ended it had started pouring, typical Vancouver rain that could be heard pounding off the roof of the building. Dumping the contents of your purse onto your desk before leaving you realize you had forgotten your umbrella at home. So you packed up your stuff and prepared yourself for the miserable walk to the skytrain station. By the time your commute was over and you had hustled back to your apartment you were freezing cold and soaking wet. And as if the day couldn’t get worse as you rifled through your purse you realized your keys were missing, mind flashing back to dumping your purse contents onto your desk at work. 

Groaning you stare at the locked lobby door of the apartment building. A few minutes of contemplating your options you pull your phone out, dialling Elias’ number. 

“Hi,” Elias answers after a couple rings. “How’s it going?”

“Could be better,” you admit, huddled under the awning outside the lobby door to protect yourself from the rain. “Are you home?”

“Yeah, I am. What’s up?”

“Can you let me in?” You ask, not knowing what you would do from there, the key to your actual apartment missing as well. “I think I forgot my keys at work.”

“Of course. I’ll be down in a minute,” Elias assures you. 

And true to his word he was opening the door a few minutes later, letting you into the warm lobby. Droplets of water drip off your jacket and onto the doormat as you wipe a combination of rainwater and tears from your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you were crying till the situation had calmed down a bit, till you were away from the loud stormy weather. 

“Are you okay? You look cold. Do you have the keys to your apartment?”

Shaking your head you wrap your arms around your body. “No, I’ll have to call a locksmith or something, I don’t know.”

“Come on, you can wait in my apartment if you want,” Elias offers, stepping towards the elevator as you trail behind him, feeling cold, miserable, and deflated. 

You step into Elias’ apartment behind him you stand on the doormat, careful not to get water on the hardwood floor. But you’re not sure how to handle the situation so you stand in one spot, watching Elias kick his shoes off and step into the apartment. 

“You can come in,” Elias tells you, smiling gently. “I can get you some clothes, if you want to shower and warm up you can do that too.”

“You don’t have to do all this,” you tell him, pulling your jacket off and hanging it up over one of the hooks by the door, pushing your shoes off. 

“I’m not doing much,” Elias comments, nodding towards the hallway. Following after him Elias points out the bathroom, leaving you alone for a moment and returning with an armful of clothes. “Towels are in the cupboard there,” he tells you, gesturing towards the cupboard by the door. “I’ll be out in the kitchen, take your time.”

Something about how kind he was, how considerate he was left you feeling overwhelmed. He didn’t need to be this nice to you, you had never met anyone who was so kind so soon after meeting. After standing under the hot water in the shower while the chill dissipated from your bones, you get out and dry off, pulling on the large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that you had to fold over at the waist a number of times to be able to stay up. 

Folding up your wet clothes you shuffle out of the bathroom, finding Elias in the kitchen. He was standing in front of the stove, cooking dinner with his phone pressed to his ear. 

“An hour?” You hear Elias say into the phone. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He hangs up his phone, setting it down on the counter and glancing over at you. “Hey, I called the building manager, he said they have emergency access keys to all the apartments. If you have ID he’ll be able to let you into your apartment but he won’t be here for an hour. I was making dinner though, do you want some?”

You stare over at Elias in surprise, eyes welling with tears. “I…you didn’t have to deal with this for me, you’ve already helped me more than you need to.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he assures you, grabbing a couple plates from the cupboard. “I moved here not that long ago, I had all the guys on the team for support though. I can’t imagine not knowing anyone.” 

“Team?” You ask, sliding onto one of the barstools at his bar counter. 

“I play hockey, for the Canucks,” he explains, setting a plate of food in front of you before sitting down beside you with his own food. 

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing,” you tell him in surprise. Because truthfully you didn’t know much about him aside from his generosity towards you. And so you spent the rest of the hour getting to know each other till he came with you to meet the building manager, making sure you got back into your apartment before saying goodnight. 

And after that night you two began spending more and more time together till you were practically inseparable. He introduced you to some of his teammates and some of their wives and girlfriends. 

You would spend evenings curled up on his couch watching movies. Eventually sharing the couch turned to cuddling turned to falling asleep with your head on his chest. You would go grocery shopping together, while it made sense with both of you living in the same building, the truth was that you both just wanted to spend as much time together as possible. You would go for early morning walks, discussing all sorts of deep thoughts. Going for coffee or dinner together became a common occurrence. 

And you fell for Elias. Hard. But you were uncertain about his feelings. He had always been the friendly guy who lived on the floor below you. He never tried to flirt. When you cuddled on the couch his hands never wandered. You never caught him checking you out or staring just a little too long. 

It was a Saturday night eight months after you first started hanging out with Elias and Elias had invited you over to Brock and Troy’s place along with a few other people. You were reluctant at first, telling him you didn’t want to intrude. But Elias was persistent and you found yourself sitting beside him on their couch a few hours later. The night had gone by as expected, they discussed stuff about hockey that you didn’t fully understand, you got to hear about their personal lives, girlfriends and family issues. You were glad Elias had invited you, happy to get to be more involved in his life than you already were.

“I’m going to the washroom,” you tell Elias a few hours after you had gotten there.

“Okay,” he mutters and you don’t notice the way he watches you stand up, the way he watches you walk out of the room. But Brock does and he can’t just not say anything. 

“You’ve got it bad for her,” Brock chuckles, shaking his head. 

“What?” Elias asks, only half-aware of what Brock was talking about as he turns his attention to him. 

“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?” Brock asks. 

“How I feel?”

Brock shakes his head again, sighing loudly. “Don’t pretend you don’t have feelings for her, man.”

“We’re just friends,” Elias defends, adjusting uncomfortably on the couch as he glances around the room, looking for any distractions. 

As you wander back from the bathroom you pause outside the living room entryway, frozen with the words you hear Brock say. “You’re in love with her, we all see it.”

“She just needs a friend right now,” Elias reiterates. 

“Just needs a friend? But you don’t want to be just a friend?”

“Just drop it, okay?” Elias snaps, unusually out of character for him. 

A few moments later you step into the room, trying your best to act like you hadn’t just heard everything you heard. Was Brock right? Elias hadn’t denied it. But that didn’t mean he was right either. No matter how hard you tried to remain unfazed by the comments you had overheard you simply couldn’t, catching yourself staring at Elias just a little too often and for a little too long. 

By the time you leave that night you can’t manage to keep your heart rate steady or your breathing even. Elias parks his car and you climb out, an uncomfortable silence filling the air around you two and you begin to wonder if he knows something is up. Stepping into the elevator you can’t handle the tension anymore but you’re not sure how to deal with it either. So you let your body take control, stepping in front of Elias, one hand on the back of his neck as you lean closer to him. “Kiss me,” you whisper in the silence of the elevator. 

“What?” Elias asks in shock, but he’s grabbing at your waist already, pulling you closer. And he doesn’t wait for you to say anything else before he’s kissing you, surprisingly fast and eager. When the doors of the elevator slide open you grab Elias’ hand, pulling him out onto your floor with you. There’s a nervous excitement as you both walk to your apartment. You barely have the door closed before Elias has his hands on your hips, pulling your back into him as he leans down, pressing his lips to your jaw, reaching up to brush your hair away as he moves his lips down to your neck. 

Gasping softly you push your body back into his, hand curling around Elias’ wrist. “Please,” you whimper, head tipping back to rest on his shoulder. You hadn’t so much as kissed a guy since moving to Vancouver. And maybe it was because you were too busy to worry about going out with guys, but maybe it was because there was only one guy you were interested in and he just happened to be right there behind you. 

“Are you sure about this?” Elias asks, turning you around in his arms as he holds you by your waist. 

“Yes,” you whisper, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him along with you into your bedroom. 

Waking up the next morning you roll over, finding the bed empty beside you. The way your heart sank was a feeling you had never felt before. You had slept with guys before and it meant nothing, had woken up the next morning alone or snuck out during the night. But this felt different. Because you really thought it meant something. But clearly you were wrong. 

Slowly you pull yourself out of bed, yanking on an oversized t-shirt and shuffling to the kitchen to make coffee. Because you needed to do something, anything, to keep your mind off the fact that you had slept with your one of your best friends and he left before you were even awake. Left without saying a single thing. And with each passing hour of the day where you hadn’t heard anything from Elias the worse you felt. 

Sure, you knew there was the chance that he really wasn’t in love with you. But when he kissed you back in the elevator you thought it had to have meant something. The last thing you would have expected was for him to just leave like that. 

‘Movie night?’

The text came early in the afternoon and normally you would have replied within seconds of seeing it. But today was so different, hesitation as your thumbs hovered over the keyboard on your phone. 

‘Sure. Your place or mine?’ You finally send. You couldn’t say no to Elias, no matter how hurt you were from earlier. 

‘Mine? 7 work?’

‘Sure’ you reply vaguely. Your conversations were never like this. You always said more, talked about what the other was doing, made jokes. You can’t remember a single one word text you had ever sent him, it always needed at the very least a smiley face. 

That evening you head up to Elias’ apartment, knocking on the door and staring down at the ground anxiously. Elias pulls the door open a minute later, stepping aside to let you walk inside. “Hey,” you whisper. 

“Hi,” Elias replies, closing the door behind you before pulling you into a hug. It’s warm and comforting and you want to stay there with him forever. But you know you can’t, not after the night before. Slowly pulling back you take a deep breath, preparing yourself to bring up what happened. “Do you want to order takeout or should we find something to make here?” Elias asks. 

You’re caught off guard by him brushing past everything that happened, not acknowledging the fact that less than 24 hours before you were moaning his name. “Uh,” you hum, prepared to talk about the implications of hooking up but not about dinner plans. “Takeout.”

Elias nods, pulling his phone out and opening DoorDash. “What do you want?”

“For you to stop ignoring what happened last night,” you blurt out, staring up at Elias with watery eyes. 

Elias lowers his phone staring at you in silence for a moment. “What do you want to talk about?”

“What?” You croak, shaking your head. “What do you mean? What do I want to talk about? The fact that we slept together last night. That you left before I was even awake the next morning. Any of that ring a bell?”

“What do you want me to say about it?”

You feel your chest tightening, throat aching with the threat of tears you were so desperately trying to hold back. “You know, you did a wonderful job convincing people that you love me, I almost fell for it.”

“What do you mean?” Elias asks, eyes softening as he steps closer, arms moving towards you before you step back. 

“I heard what Brock said, about you being in love with me,” you explain. “That’s why…that’s why I slept with you last night, Elias. Because I’m in love with you and I thought maybe, just maybe he was right. Or at the very least you would have the decency to not just fuck me if it didn’t mean anything.” Wiping at the tears streaming down your face you whirl around towards the door, trying to escape before you broke down any further. 

But Elias is grasping for your hand before you can get to the door, pulling you into his chest. “He’s right,” Elias whispers. “I am in love with you.”

“So why are you acting like such an asshole then?”

Elias pulls back, reaching over to wipe the tears off your cheeks. “Because I was scared. I didn’t think you felt the same way. I thought…I thought you just wanted a, uh, like, friends with benefits. But I know I can’t do that with you so I thought just going back to normal was the only option.”

You let out a shocked breath of laughter, clutching tight to Elias as if he might try to distance himself again if you let up even just a little. “You thought all of a sudden I would try to just turn this into a friends with benefit agreement? After all this time?”

“I didn’t think you could have feelings for me,” Elias mumbles into your hair, holding onto you with just as much intensity. “I mean, look at you. You’re perfect. And I can’t give you everything you deserve, I’m not even here all the time, so…”

“What are you talking about you?” You ask, interrupting Elias’ ramble with a quiet, surprised laugh, your hands moving to the back of his neck as you stare up into his eyes. “You already give me more than I deserve. You’re the person I call when I need anything. You come down to my apartment at two in the morning to kill spiders for me. You pick me up when I have to work late and it’s dark and you don’t want me taking the skytrain at night. You helped me repaint my kitchen on one of the very few days you actually have off. And you don’t have to do any of those things so when you’re not here to do them it’s okay, because it’s already more than I need. You’re more than I need, Elias, and I hate that you would think you aren’t.”

“I love you,” he whispers, saying it like it was a weight off his shoulders. “I love you so much,” he repeats, a smile growing on his face. 

“Should I spend the night here tonight? Or do you want me to sneak out after you fall asleep?” You joke, pressing your lips to his. 

Elias smiles against your lips, pulling back and shaking his head, clearly still feeling guilty. “Don’t leave…you don’t ever need to leave."

#elias pettersson #elias pettersson imagine #elias pettersson blurb #elias pettersson fic #nhl blurb #nhl oneshot #nhl fic #hockey blurb #hockey fic #hockey imagines

[bqstqnbruin]

Rinks and rouxes

Ok we’re ignoring so many things here as we normally do when I drop a fic. So first, we’re ignoring the fact that the plural of roux is roux and not rouxes like I have in the title because it sounds weird with English. We’re ignoring typos because no matter how many times I try to catch them all, I never do. We’re ignoring that this is being posted at like three am as well. And then there has to be something else that I’m forgetting but whatever.

This is the longest fic I’ve written as a one off fic so I hope you like this! This is for the lovely @slapshot-to-the-heart​ for the @hockeynetwork​ winter gift exchange (sorry I didn’t get this to you sooner but I was a mess this semester with grad school oop).

Enjoy!

_________________________

You were excited for the first few days in a while where you didn’t have to wake up to an alarm. A few mornings to sleep in, the sunshine pouring in through the windows, Quinn’s snoring filling the room in the bed next to yours. The boys had rented a cabin for New Years, having a rare few days off before and after the holiday to mess around somewhere outside of Vancouver. 

You were not expecting to be woken up three mornings in a row to a smoke alarm sounding in the kitchen because whoever made breakfast burnt something again. 

You sit up, groaning, rubbing your eyes. “Do you think they caught something on fire or do you think we can risk staying in bed?” 

Quinn sits up with a yawn, shaking his head. Before he can say anything, the alarm stops, yelling coming from the kitchen. “I think we should stay up here in case someone gets killed. Don’t wanna be a witness.”

The two of you laugh, the yells getting louder from the kitchen as the smoke alarm sounds again. “You guys make so much money and yet you insist on almost burning the house down every meal,” you say, watching Quinn get out of his bed, no shirt on. You tried not to stare at your best friend, but, fuck, seeing every inch of his torso just there, you were failing hard at not looking.

You grew up with Brock, getting introduced to his teammates shortly after moving to Vancouver for school, hitting it off with Quinn incredibly fast. To say that you had a crush on him was probably an understatement, falling hard and falling fast for the boy no matter how much you were convinced he didn’t feel the same about you. You figured whatever feelings you had would pass eventually. 

But that was three years ago. The feelings had not faded. 

And now, the two of you were sharing a room in this cabin, praying that what you smelled was not an actual fire coming from the kitchen. And he was just there, walking around your room without a shirt. 

“Y/N?” Quinn calls from the bathroom, pulling you out of whatever fantasy you were about to dive into. 

“Sorry, what?” 

“Who do you think burnt the food this time?” 

You laugh, trying to remember who the guys decided was cooking that morning, your mind completely forgetting about whatever thirsty feelings you had coming on with Quinn right there. “I think Jake was supposed to do something but Elias didn’t trust him.” 

“I wouldn’t trust either of them to make us food.” he says, a cocky tone dripping in his voice.

“You act like you could do better when we both know you set off the alarm the first morning,” you chirp back, earning a scoff from him. 

His phone starts buzzing on the nightstand between your beds, nearly falling off the small table. “Want me to get that?” 

“Yeah, what is it?” Quinn yells over the water running from the sink.

You pick up the phone, your heart dropping immediately. “You have a new match! From Tinder!” you say, fake cheeriness dripping in your tone. “I didn’t know you were on Tinder?” 

You hear him laugh, the water shutting off. “The guys thought I seemed lonely so they made me an account. It’s not like I ever use it.” 

“Hm. See. Here’s the thing,” you start, handing him his phone as he approaches, plopping down on your bed to probably look at the new match, “You don’t get matches on Tinder unless you both swipe right, which means you had to have been using it.” He shrugs, not looking up from his phone. “I didn’t know you just wanted hook ups,” you let out, trying to hide the pain in your voice with a teasing tone. If he wanted to hook up, that would mean he wasn’t interested in a relationship, which meant he didn’t like you the way you like him. Why were you even thinking about that? Why were you letting yourself spiral?

“I do not. And before you say, ‘well that’s what Tinder is for,’ because I know you and I know that was going to be the next thing out of your mouth,” Quinn says, a smirk on his face as you roll your eyes at him, slightly blushing because he was right, “I definitely want a relationship but the boys thought this would be a good start.” You swear you saw his eyes flick down to your lips for a moment, leaning in ever so slightly. You had to be imagining this, your still crush on him causing you to make things up in your mind. 

“Quinn! Y/N!” interrupts you from the other side of your thankfully locked door, as you  practically launch yourself off your bed to see Brock on the other side. “I didn’t interrupt anything did I?” he asks, a stupid smirk on your face causing heat to run to your cheeks.

“No,” you say, even though you were sure your face was giving everything away. 

“We made breakfast,” he says, moving aside and gesturing for the two of you to join what sounded like the rest of the team down in the kitchen. 

“Are you sure about that? The smoke alarm says otherwise,” Quinn chirps, throwing a shirt on as he takes your hand and pushes past Brock. You could hear the sharp inhale that came from Brock, knowing that you would be hearing about this later. You can’t help but smile as the boys start to chirp each other, your heart racing until Quinn drops your hand, the smell of pancakes and burnt toast hitting your nose as soon as the three of you get to the kitchen. “So who fucked up this morning?” Quinn asks, trying to find plates for the two of you.

“Jake,” the guys chorus, forcing a laugh out of you and Quinn while you watch the teammate in question turn bright red.

“It’s not my fault!” he tries to defend himself.

“You didn’t even just burn it, you caught it on fire,” Thatcher yells through a mouthful of what you hoped was not the toast. 

“Do you even see any food for us to eat?” you whisper to Quinn, trying to look over the boys shoulders for anything that seemed edible. 

Quinn shakes his head, rolling his eyes as the boys continue. “Well whose idea was it to have me make toast?” Jake asks.

“We thought you were smart enough to use the toaster and not hold the bread over the open flame on the stove,” Petey mumbles, you and Quinn trying to hold back your laughter. 

“So, where is the food that Y/N and I can eat?” Quinn asks, trying to get the boys’ attention.

“I think we ate it all,” Brock says, a smirk on his face.

“Then why did you come get us?” you ask him, clearly annoyed with him.

“We had to make sure you weren’t doing anything inappropriate behind that locked door of yours,” Brock says, the rest of the guys acting like children at the thought.

Quinn scoffs, walking towards the stairs, “Ok, one, no one talks like that, two, Y/N and I are going out for breakfast, anyone who wants to come, be ready in the next 15 minutes.” 

You watch him leave, praying that someone else would get up to go get ready. “Looks like you’ve gotta go get ready for your breakfast date with your boy,” Brock teases, the boys now laughing at you. You hated that your feelings for Quinn were no secret. At least, it seems like it was known to everyone but him, but why did that matter?

“It is not a date,” you start, only to hear Jake yell, “yes it is,” behind you. You turn to him, pointing at him. “Remember that I played soccer growing up so I can kick you really hard if I have to,” you start, the smirk on his face changing to slight terror, “so if burning that toast didn’t kill you, I can.” 

You turn on your heels to go get ready, even more nervous about going out with Quinn since Brock had to go and call it a date when Jake yells, “I didn’t mean to burn the toast!” 

“You still did it, though,” you yell down, shutting the door behind you. You were panicked now, completely freaking out. As much as you told yourself it wasn’t a date, Brock’s annoying voice still rang through your ears, ‘your breakfast date with your boy.’ Fuck Brock. You start to change, realizing that Quinn could come out of the bathroom at any minute and see you half naked, more panic washing over you. You set your phone on the bed, grabbing clothes and try to figure out where to change. “Hey, Q? Can I get in the bathroom to change?” 

He opens the door, no shirt on yet again. This was not fair. You weren’t even sure how you ended up having to share a room with him in the first place, let alone what you did to have him walk around shirtless every day. You practically run into the bathroom before you can do something stupid, shutting the door and leaning against it. You let out a deep sigh, saying, “Fuck,” in the breath, cursing who evers idea it was the bring you here and put you in this room instead of in one with Brock, or in one all on your own. 

You shake your head of the thoughts of whatever he was doing out there. He was your friend, just like Brock was. Nothing more, nothing less. And you needed to be ready soon if you wanted to get breakfast since the idiots downstairs burned any semblance of what would be edible. You try to force any thoughts of Quinn from your mind, pulling on leggings and a sweater.

“Hey, Y/N?” you hear Quinn call, “You’re getting texts.”

You open the door, starting to brush your teeth as you call to him, “You know my passcode, who are they from?”

“Brock.” 

You stop brushing, terror and an urge to murder him rushing through you. “What do they say?” you ask him, thankful you had your toothbrush in your mouth to cover up the anger that would otherwise be taking over your tone.

“‘We all know you two are going to date,’” he reads, “and ‘If you don’t kiss him tonight, I will.’” You were officially going to kill Brock. “Who are you going to date?”

You position yourself so you can see his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. He was almost pouting, his eyebrows knit together in frustration. He wasn’t mad about those texts, was he? He didn’t know they were about him, right? “Uh, just this guy Brock and I know from home. He was joking about inviting him here tonight,” you lie to him, hoping he would buy it. He nods, scrunching his face up. “You know he’s not coming, right? I mean, he’d have to get here from Minnesota.” 

He nods again, handing you your phone as you come out of the bathroom, letting you send a quick death threat text to Brock. “You ready?”

“Just need a coat,” you tell him. He takes your hand, leading you back down the stairs. You had to pass the kitchen to get out to the cars, passing the guys with your hand in Quinn’s. 

Quinn stops without warning, you crashing into him in surprise. The guys gaze went to your hand in his, pretty much ignoring his words as he said, “So is anyone coming with us?” No one says anything, Brocks mouth falling open as he readjusts his hand in yours, clearly holding it tighter. The look on his face told you that you would not be living this down, forcing a mental note to turn your phone off as soon as you get in the car. “Awesome, text us if you need anything,” Quinn says, dragging you over to the door. 

“Ok, your mood changed,” you point out, putting on your coat and practically running to catch up with Quinn at the car. 

“No, it didn’t,” he snaps, getting in the car. You climb into the passenger seat next to him, looking at him stare at the steering wheel in front of him. He turns to look at you, his mouth in a thin line, “The boys are just annoying me lately, I don’t know.” You cock your eyebrow, telling him that you didn’t believe him. “Ok, fine,” he says, starting the car up, “They made me get on Tinder when I have no reason being on it and seeing Brock’s texts to you made me think about the texts they send to me about-” he rambles, cutting himself off. He looks out the window, turning his attention to the road in front of you.

“About who?” you ask. The boys wouldn’t tell him that you liked him, would they? They would have no reason to be trying to egg him on about asking you out, right? Then again, if Brock would do that to you, who’s to say that he wouldn’t also do it to his teammates who he easily had a closer relationship with and spent more time with. 

“About the girls on Tinder,” he breathes out, you also letting the breath you had no idea you were holding in. Part of you wished he said you. At least that way you could get a read on what he thought about the idea of you two being together. If it was disgust then you could put the whole crush to rest. 

“I mean, if it’s Brock, just point out that the only women in his life are his dogs, me, and his family,” you try to reassure him, pulling a laugh from his lips. “But he would also probably say that he’s fine with it, so you might have to think of something better.” 

Quinn nods, a small smile on his face. You just wanted to know what was really going on inside his head, because what he told you was definitely not it. It’s not like you could pressure him about it, though. He wouldn’t answer you if you tried to get more out of him, so what was the point? The two of you drive the rest of the way in silence, finally finding a diner that you could find a parking spot in front of and walk in. At this point, both of you were starving, already praying that they had the classic breakfast food you could order as soon as the server would come over to you. 

You were seated in a booth by the window, looking out across the street to a small pond that was now covered with ice thanks to the cold Vancouver winter. It had to be thick enough to withstand the weight, because you could see a who you assumed to be a father with his two little girls skating around on the ice. They looked like they were showing him some sort of figuring skating routine, the smaller girl raising her hands over her head in a ‘ta-da’ fashion, the dad lifting her off the ice and into the air, spinning her around before kissing her cheek and putting her back down to chase her sister. You couldn’t help but smile, completely forgetting about the menu in front of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Quinn asks, reaching across the table to touch your hand. 

You barely even notice the warmth of his hand on yours, for some reason feeling all too comfortable by his touch, but you were lost in the memory and thoughts the scene on the pond had brought up. “Have you ever seen the movie ‘Holiday in Handcuffs’ with Mario Lopez and Melissa Joan Hart?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word, a smile on his face as he gets ready to listen to you.

“So, it is your classic tale of Stockholm Syndrome,” you say, both of you laughing, “But basically, she kidnaps him to impress her parents that she has this great boyfriend compared to her perfect brother and sister and they fall in love. There’s this one scene where they’re standing out on the back porch and she’s talking about how one Christmas Eve she had this big figure skating recital but it got cancelled because of a snow storm, so her dad made a rink in the backyard so she could perform it for them. Mario Lopez’s character surprises her the next morning by making an ice rink so they could skate around together.” 

You look over at Quinn, not even realizing that you had been watching the dad and his daughters the entire time. He had this soft smile on his face, for a moment forgetting that you two were out in public until the waitress came over to take your order. 

“Tell me more about this ice rink,” he asks you once she leaves. 

All you can really do is shrug. “I don’t know. Him making the ice rink just seemed like such a romantic gesture. If a guy did that for me, I think I would melt,” you tell him. 

“Just like the ice would,” Quinn jokes, leaning back as the waitress comes with your food.

“I hated that. I hated that so much,” you joke, both of you laughing as your phone buzzes on the table, interrupting whatever moment may or may not have been there. You sigh, seeing Brock’s name pop up yet again. He had to get tired of this constant teasing about you and Quinn at some point, right?

“Brock again?”

You throw your head back, letting out a groan that you hoped only Quinn could hear. “Since Jake burnt the toast this morning, he is now no longer allowed to make dinner tonight.”

“Tell them to order something then, we can pick it up?” 

“Nope. Brock told the guys about the mac and cheese that I used to make when we were in high school and now they all want it. Something tells me there is virtually nothing in that house that lends itself to being mac and cheese.” Brock keeps sending more and more texts about how your ‘date’ is going with all the hand holding you two had to be doing, prompting none other than an eye roll from you as you shove your phone in your coat pocket. “So now I need to get to the store at some point.”

Quinn looks at the window, watching the father pick up his daughters and carry them to his car. He smiles, turning back to you, “When we’re done, do you think Brock can take you? I have to take care of something.”

“Uh, sure?” you say in response, texting Brock to pick you up from the diner. Quinn’s mood shifted, becoming much more animated than he had been earlier. He kept looking between you and the frozen pond, the smile never leaving his face. 

He doesn’t stop talking the rest of breakfast, paying and leaving as soon as Brock pulls up to take you to the store. “So how was the date?” Brock smirks as soon as your door is closed, watching Quinn practically sprint to his car and drive off. 

“If you keep this up then you aren’t going to see the New Year,” you threaten. 

“We all know you two are going to get together, we just don’t know why you haven’t acted on it.”

“What was at the house from the recipe I sent you?” you ask him, praying that he’ll drop the subject.

“Nothing and you aren’t dodging this subject.” 

“You don’t even have milk?” 

“You saw what breakfast was this morning. And since you won’t admit the obvious here, we have a plan for tonight.” 

Nothing good could come of those words. You knew Brock well enough to know that any plan he came up with would end in disaster. And his teammates were just an extension of his idiocy. “Please don’t. If you love me at all you will not do anything,” you beg him.

“I never said I was going to do anything,” he teases. You glare at him, only resulting in him laughing at you as he pulls into a grocery store. 

You let out a deep breath, knowing today was going to be a long day. “Get flour and salt and then whatever else you guys want for food. You’re paying,” you tell him, practically running into the store just to get away from him. There was no way you were going to spend the entire time being heckled about the crush you didn’t want to have in the first place. It’s not like it was reciprocated, anyway. You could feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, dreading what Brock was texting you. ‘Do me a favor: grab your favorite wine and those sugar cookies you like.’ came from Jake. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t surprised it came from him instead of Quinn, but who were you to judge? ‘Can I ask why?’

‘Just want to make tonight special ;)’ 

Don’t like that. 

You shake it off, debating on even getting what he asked you for. Why would Jake ask you to get your favorite stuff? That seemed so out of character for him, at least in his interactions with you. You grab what you need for the mac and cheese, not even sure how much you should make considering how many boys were there in the house. You wander off to find Brock, praying that he actually got what you need. “This is not where you find flour.” He turns around, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, including the wine and cookies Jake had texted you to grab. “When I said flour this is not what I meant. What are you doing?”

“Jake wanted me to make sure I got these for you,” he tells you, handing them over to you.

You stare at him for a minute, your face scrunched. This had to be part of whatever scheme they were planning to get you and Quinn together. No part of you wanted their meddling, but you knew that the more you tried to fight it, the worse it was going to end up for you. “How long would I be in jail if I just killed you all?” 

“A few life sentences depending on how many murders you committed,” he shrugs, walking away from you. 

You didn’t even want to talk to him at this point, pissed off at the fact that they were all scheming against your wishes. You grab what you need, including some stuff for baking, figuring the longer you kept yourself busy, the less likely you were to to harm the idiots you were spending time with. 

“You bought apple cider and cream cheese for mac and cheese?” Brock questions, holding up the gallon at check out.

“Apple cider no, one of the cream cheeses, yes. You wanted me to make mac and cheese, let me make mac and cheese. I was gonna make apple cider cupcakes for everyone.” 

The two of you get back to the house, which was strangely quiet considering how many of the guys were there. You start getting to work on the cupcakes, figuring it was too early to start dinner. You get out everything the real owners of the house had to bake with, figuring that you could focus on this instead of whatever bullshit was going to face you that night. 

You get lost in baking, measuring and mixing when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. You didn’t care who it was, as long as it wasn’t Brock.

“Need help?”

You look up to see Jake leaning against the counter, his head resting in his hand. “After you caught the toast on fire this morning, I don’t think so.” 

The two of you laugh, falling into a conversation. Of all of Brock’s teammates, you probably had spent the least amount of time with Jake. It was nice; he was weirdly easy to talk to, somewhat flirty if you were reading him right. If he was showing interest in you when Quinn wasn’t, who cared? 

“Can I at least help with the frosting? I can’t burn that,” he begs, coming up right next to you. He juts out his bottom lip, batting his eyes as you stand there with the bowl, knowing that you didn’t want to whip the frosting yourself. 

You let out a deep sigh, handing him the whisk, “Fine. Get the cream cheese soft and then add in that vanilla and the powdered sugar.” He gets to work, you hopping up to sit on the counter next to him while the cupcakes are in the oven. “Why did you ask me to get my favorite stuff at the store?” 

He shrugs, a smirk on his face while he continues to whip the cream cheese. “You put up with us teasing you about Quinn so I figured you could use something that you enjoyed.” You can’t help but smile at his words, not even getting the chance to say anything before he continues, “So who are you kissing tonight?”

“What?”

“It’s New Years Eve. Who are you kissing at midnight?” 

You sit up a little straighter at his question, not even thinking about it before. “I don’t know.”

Jake stops whisking, the sound of another set of footsteps coming down the stairs. “Would you mind if I kissed you then?” You sit there for a moment, shocked. He knew you liked Quinn, right? You start to stammer out an answer, none of it coherent when he turns his attention from you to whoever just came into the kitchen. “Unless there was someone else Y/N should be kissing tonight, Quinn?” 

You twist around to see Quinn turning red, looking at you sitting so close to Jake, your leg obviously touching his side with the way you were twisted. “I don’t know why you would be asking me that,” he seethes, going over to the now beeping oven. “Want me to take these out?”

You nod, hopping off the counter to check if they were done, putting the first batch on top of the stove to cool, the next batch in to bake. “So, Y/N. You and me kissing at midnight, then?” 

You stand up, your back towards both of them. If Quinn had wanted to kiss you, then he would have said something. “I guess so, Jake,” you say, going back over to him to help him with the frosting. 

Quinn stands there, not sure what to do. There was no way you could be kissing his teammate tonight. He opens his phone, storming off before you could get the chance to ask him what was wrong. 

Jake eventually leaves you once the cupcakes are done, leaving you to start the mac and cheese the boys wanted. You start making the roux when you hear the front door slam, someone’s overly obnoxious laugh floating through the house. Whoever it was came into the kitchen, startling you while you were starting the melt down the cubes of cream cheese.

“Hi!” comes from behind you, an overly peppy high pitched voice, a skinny redhead appearing in the doorway. “I’m Katie!” 

You had no idea who this was, looking past her to see Quinn behind the two of you, nervous and practically shaking. “She’s my date for tonight.” 

“Oh!” you let out, turning the burner down and putting down the whisk. “I had no idea you were bringing a date! I’m Y/N,” you tell her, feeling less and less bad about agreeing to kiss Jake tonight. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, practically on top of you. 

“Making the roux for the mac and cheese tonight.”

“Rue? I thought that was when you made someone regret something. You know, like in iCarly?”

You turn to her, doing everything in your power to not burst out laughing at her reference. You swear you could hear Quinn muttering something under his breath, his head in his hands as he leaned against the counter. “That’s r-u-e, I’m making a r-o-u-x. It’s the base for the cheese part of mac and cheese.” She cocks her head to the side, looking between you and the pot on the stove. “You know, I think some of the guys are out on the porch with some beer, you should go join them,” you suggest. 

“Ok!’ she says, bouncing away. 

You turn to Quinn, your eyes wide and a mocking smile covering your face. “Well she’s just adorable. Where did you find her?” You knew you were being petty, but no part of you cared.

“Tinder,” Quinn mumbles. 

“Come here,” you tell him, handing him a spoon to start stirring the pasta. “Why did you find a date all of a sudden?” 

“Well who am I supposed to kiss at midnight now that you’re kissing Jake?” he snaps, some of the pasta water flying away from you.

“Brock?” you joke, earning a scoff from him. “Who did you intend on kissing? Me?”

He stares at the pot of water, shaking his head, “I guess I’m not now.” He puts the spoon down, leaving you stunned at the stove while he goes out with the rest of the guys. There was no way he wanted to kiss you that night. You couldn’t believe it. There was no way. You shake off the thought, finishing up the mac and cheese as the guys start coming in to ask where the food was. 

Everyone sits around the table like they were this morning, Katie talking everyone’s ear off about something you weren’t paying attention to. Elias was sitting right next to her, looking like he was plotting her murder with every passing second. If she went missing that night, he was the first one you were going to blame. 

“Hey,” Jake nudges you in the shoulder, taking you away from the trance you set yourself into, “You ok?”

“Yeah, just kinda tired. Someone woke me up with the smoke alarm again,” you tease, pulling a laugh from him. “I think I’m just going to go up stairs to mine and Quinn’s room.” You get up, Jake the only one seeming to notice that you were leaving the rest of the group. 

You must have actually fallen asleep, awaken by someone pounding on the other side of the door. “It’s open,” you say, fumbling around to turn on the light. 

Quinn opens the door slowly, poking his head in like he was afraid to see you. “It’s almost midnight. Are you gonna join?”

You nod, getting up to follow him down the stairs. The two of you reach the door to the backyard, Quinn stopping in front of you, bending down to grab the pair of ice skates that were by the door. “You’ll need these,” he smiles, taking your hand.

“What is this?” you ask when he opens the door, the guys playing a pick up game on a sheet of ice on the lawn. 

“You said you thought it was romantic when a guy made his girl an ice rink in her back yard. So I made one for you,” he says, looking down at his feet, his face turning red.

“What? I have so many questions.”

He laughs, sitting down to put his own pair of skates on, you following suit. “Katie is with Jake right now, probably doing things that we don’t want to know about. Turns out the guys used Jake as a ploy to get me to finally ask you out, so when I figured that out, I asked Katie over so Jake could have someone to occupy him.”

“You want to ask me out?” you ask, not hiding the smile on your face.

“Oh, you are so oblivious,” he groans, a smile on his face, as well. “Of course I do.” 

He picks you up to step on the ice, off to the side where the guys weren’t playing. Brock gets the puck past Thatcher, his hands in the air in celebration when Elias yells, “15 seconds!” 

The guys start counting down to the new year, your heart racing with each second as Quinn’s hands wrap around your waist. “Would you rather have me or Jake?”

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“You really have to ask?”

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“Yes.”

“Four! Three! Two!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, Quinn’s face centimeters from yours, your foreheads pressed against each other. “You.”

“One!” the guys around you yell once Quinn’s lips connect with yours, everything around you melting away. 

“Happy new year, Y/N,” he whispers once he pulls away, stealing another quick kiss before the guys can pull you away from each other.

“Happy new year, Quinn.” 

#winter gift exchange #hockeynetwork #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagines #canucks #canucks imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

[laurenairay]

Decorating Disaster - J.Markstrom

Summary: what could go wrong with a little competitive holiday baking with your boyfriend Jacob?

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: some bad language, a lot of cute fluff, too much glitter…and he’s on the Flames. Sorry K 😅

A/N: fully in my winter holiday feelings! ❄️ This one is for @danglesnipecelly​ – I hope it warms your grinchy heart 😘

*

“Hey älskling, are you busy?”

You looked up from the magazine you were reading at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, shaking your head with a smile. You’d only been reading it in the first place because Jacob had popped out to the grocery store – but now he was back…with multiple bags?

“What are you planning?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at his big grin.

“Nothing!” he said cheerfully, pecking a kiss to your cheek as he whirled past you into the kitchen.

Okay now you knew he was up to something.

“I don’t believe you in the slightest,” you teased, hopping up on the counter as he put the bags down next to you.

“You wound me!” he gasped, clutching dramatically at his chest, making you giggle, “I just thought we could do some baking together this morning,”

What?!

“Baking. You want to bake,” you said dryly.

“Yeah! It’s a fun holiday activity to do together!” Jacob grinned, ignoring your confused expression as he started to rustle through the grocery bags.

You put your hand on top of his to stop him. Seriously, what is he doing?

“J, you don’t even like baking. You purposely steered clear of the kitchen when I made pepparkakor with your mom last year. Why do you really want to do this?” you mused.

Jacob’s grin faded, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Hah, you knew there was a real reason.

3…

2…

1…

“Tanny told the Flames about my last disaster baking attempt and they were all teasing me – I told them that I’d been practicing with you and I was way better than him now,” Jacob admitted.

What a little liar!

“But you haven’t been practicing with me,” you pointed out, trying to stop a grin spreading across your lips.

“Yeah I know…Tanny didn’t believe it either, and he said that I should prove it. Gio turned it into a team group challenge as bonding…but I need to do this!” Jacob sighed.

“So you want to bake…because of a dare?” you snickered, “to save a reputation that is a lie?”

Men. Seriously.

Jacob just grinned, nodding at you. And then that grin turned into a hopeful smile. Oh no. Absolutely not.

“Ohhhh no, count me out,”

“Please? There’s no way Tanny and the others won’t have help too!” Jacob pleaded, “I already know that Elias and Annica are planning on making cookies together!”

Damn those puppy dog eyes.

And if it would make Jacob feel better in front of the team…

“Fine, you ridiculous man. Let’s do some holiday baking,” you sighed fondly.

Jacob whooped and scooped you up off the kitchen counter in his arms, swinging you around in a circle, making you squeal. When he eventually put you back down on your feet, he pressed a firm kiss to your lips, making you lose your breath even more. Wow. Yeah, anything for him, if that was the reaction you’d get.

“Thank you älskling. This is going to be fun, I promise!” Jacob grinned.

“I believe that when I see it,” you giggled.

Now that this was a competition, rather than the fun activity he had initially suggested, you knew Jacob was going to be a nervous mess. There was no way this was ending well. But hey, it would be good teasing material, if nothing else.

“I thought we could do gingerbread men? That way we can get extra points for decoration,” Jacob suggested, “I would’ve said gingerbread people, but there was only the male stencil cutter at the store,”

Fair enough.

“Very strategic, I like it,” you teased.

To be fair, it was a good plan. And meant you could get more creative with it too. Jacob just blushed. “I picked up so many options at the store. Like, all of the decorating options. So there’s lots to choose from,”

“Let’s get the gingerbread going first – we can decide what decorations we’ll do when it’s in the oven,” you mused.

“See, this is why I need your help!” Jacob grinned.

You couldn’t help but grin back. So adorable.

“Alright, let’s find a recipe and get started…”

Making the actual gingerbread took so much longer than it should’ve done. It didn’t make things any easier that one of the ‘competition rules’ was that everything had to be filmed for judging by an impartial panel (aka coach, coach’s wife and the team nutritionist) – so there was way more pressure that you would’ve liked. Jacob almost didn’t sift the flour, would’ve resulted in lumpy batter if you hadn’t corrected him, and he very nearly put sea salt flakes in instead of sugar, which you only just about saved in time. Not to mention the pieces of egg shell he’d dropped in that you asked him to carefully take back out. Each time he looked a little more dejected at the mistakes he was making, but there was no way you were giving up on this. He wanted to do this together, so he was damn well sticking with it. Especially since you were in the competition video too – it was a matter of pride now.

Instead, you put his strong arms to good use in the mixing, which cheered him up a bit (and gave you some excellent eye candy, even if you were sure the video would catch you watching appreciatively), and in the end the dough didn’t turn out looking too bad. After cutting out the figures using the shapes that Jacob had bought, you put the gingerbread men on the trays and into the ovens. And you made sure to set a timer when they were finally in the oven. If they burnt at this point, you thought you would actually cry.

“Is it time to decide on decorations now?” he asked hopefully.

“Definitely!” you nodded.

Jacob grinned and quickly washed his hands before sitting down at the kitchen table, making you laugh. You washed your hands and joined him, Jacob pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head that made you blush.

“So the gingerbread men will need to be in the oven for 15 minutes, then we take them out and let them cool in the pans for 10 minutes, before turning them out onto those wire racks you found to cool completely,” you explained.

“And then we decorate?”

You rolled your eyes fondly at your boyfriend, nudging his shoulder, earning a nudge back. “Yes, then we decorate. Although with all of this stuff you bought, I have no idea where to start,”

Like, seriously. There were so many little packets of candy as well as tiny little piping bags of colourful icing (that must’ve come from a kit) – honestly way too much stuff – but just one look at Jacob’s face showed you that he had a plan. Oh this should be fun.

“I was thinking…the colourful chocolate buttons for their tummies, with the blue, green, red and yellow icings for their shorts which we can then pair with the matching edible glitter on top. And then gummy drops for the eyes, with a white icing smile?”

The hopefulness in Jacob’s voice meant there was no way you were countering any of that – and as it was, it all sounded like a great plan.

“Shall I do the icing parts, and then you do the placement of all the candy plus the glitter?” you suggested.

“Sounds like a plan!” he grinned.

The two of you washed up the mess that you had made so far while you waited for gingerbread to cook, only devolving into a water fight once, ending in some sweet slow kisses (that Jacob promised would be edited out of the video before it was shown to the team), and by the time the gingerbread men were cool enough, you could tell Jacob was getting impatient.

“Remember take it slow and steady – they need to look good so you win the competition,” you murmured into his ear, quietly so the camera wouldn’t pick it up.

Jacob blushed slightly but nodded, counting the candy into piles as you started the first of the icing. To be honest, they looked alright. Nothing was burnt, they were all the same size and shape, and they smelled amazing. So you were happy – they were going to taste good at least! And with your little line process with Jacob doing separate tasks to you, the decorating was taking on good shape.

But there was one thing that you were worried about. The edible glitter. Everyone knows that glitter is almost impossible to get rid of if it spills anywhere, and with Jacob’s track record, you were hesitant. But he was so excited about adding that extra winter magic to the gingerbread men that you ignored your concerns and let him get on with it. It would be fine, right?

Time to put your nerves to the test. Jacob yanked on the lid of the edible glitter, but it wouldn’t budge. As he gripped the vial and the cap with both hands, pulling as hard as he could, you felt a bad omen coming over you. But before you could say anything, the cap suddenly flew off of the glitter vial…

…and the glitter exploded everywhere.

You burst into laughter, burying your face in his shoulder at the astonished look on his face. Glitter was all over his hands, shirt, jeans, the floor and the poor gingerbread man. Holy shit.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, eyes wide.

You were still giggling as you sat upright, tears at the corners of your eyes. How did you not see this coming?

“We can still save this little guy,” you choked, picking up the figure and tapping the excess glitter off of him onto the table, “and luckily you bought so much glitter that we still have another couple of vials,”

“I’m not going to live this down, am I?” he sighed, although the laughter in his eyes made you feel better.

“Probably not, that’ll probably make some kind of bloopers reel at the very least,” you grinned, “But it was only the first one, so there’s plenty of time to make up for it!”

Jacob just grinned back at you, pecking your lips in a kiss before standing up. “I’ll go wash up, and we can try again?”

“Sounds good to me,” you nodded.

Even if your gingerbread men didn’t win the competition, even if the team teased Jacob for the glitter explosion, you wouldn’t trade these memories for anything. This was going to be a holiday time to remember forever, you just knew it.

#my writing #lauren writes winter #i hope you enjoy this K! #marky being adorable AND competitive? sign me up! #jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom fic #jacob markstrom fanfic #jacob markstrom x reader #jacob markstrom blurb #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl blurb #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey blurb

[dickwheelie]

heyyyy @peachyindeed​​ thank you for the request and I’m so sorry this took so long, but here it is!

poor Jon was going through A Lot during that season, so I wanted to be kind to him here.

____________

“Doesn’t make sense.”

Jon’s muttering voice breaks Martin out of his thoughts. He’d been staring up at the cafe’s chalkboard menu, trying to decide what to get, and also what to order for Jon, who he knows will just order tea or water unless Martin forces him to eat a real meal. When he’d burst into Jon’s office an our ago, unannounced and unapologetic, basically demanding Jon get out of the office for once and have lunch with him, Jon had claimed (after much indignant sputtering) that he wasn’t hungry.

“Doesn’t matter,” Martin had said. “We’re getting overpriced sandwiches and bad coffee at the place across the street, and you’re going to bloody well enjoy it.”

So here they are, and Martin is all ready and prepared to step up to the register and order the both of them fridge-flavored caprese sandwiches, when he hears Jon muttering off to his left.

“Can’t be that way, no . . . and this line doesn’t even . . .”

He turns, and sees Jon examining one of the bus schedules from the rack of brochures that sits by the cafe entrance. He’s poring over the picture of the bus lines that criss-cross all over London with the intensity of a lawyer examining the fine print on a list of terms and conditions for a company with particularly dubious morals.

Despite himself, Martin sighs. He’s gotten used to this, by now, which is unfortunate. Jon’s clearly in way further deep into whatever conspiracy he’s cooked up than anyone else in the archives. Martin, Tim, Sasha, and hell, even Elias all understand that something strange is going on, but Jon’s taken it three steps too far. And none of the red strings he’s following ever seem to lead anywhere.

Case in point, the bus schedule. Martin tries to be polite. “What d’you have there?”

Jon looks at him, and shuffles the brochure demonstratively. “The bus lines, Martin. They make no sense. I’d never noticed before. Unless--maybe they’ve changed--”

Jon’s eyes widen and he goes back to feverishly examining the schedule. Martin isn’t sure what to do. He knows telling Jon he’s being paranoid wouldn’t help anyone. But he doesn’t want to just let this continue, either. Jon looks a mess, and Martin desperately wants to snap him out of it, but he’s not equipped for this.

First things first, Martin reminds himself. Getting some food in that poor man.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re sitting at a corner table (so Jon can see the entirety of the cafe, plus the street outside the windows), a pair of sandwiches and teas in front of them. Jon’s brought the brochure with him, which makes Martin’s stomach sink a bit, but at least he’s eating now. Jon, for all his insistence that he isn’t hungry, sure puts away his sandwich with vigor.

Martin tries his usual tactic: distraction. “So,” he says in a voice he hopes is passably casual, “seen any good movies lately?” With the subject of work off the table, Martin doesn’t have a lot of leads for topics Jon would want to talk about.

Jon doesn’t look up from the schedule, which he’s started scribbling on in pen, and Martin half-expects him not to answer.

But Jon surprises him. “I haven’t seen any movies lately,” he says, plainly.

“Oh.” Martin takes a bite of his sandwich. “Read any good books, then?”

Jon finally looks up at him, his expression puzzled. “I--haven’t really been reading anything except statements, of late.”

“Have you tried reading something else?” Martin offers, carefully. “I’ve got some recommendations for sci-fi and fantasy stuff. If that’s the sort of thing you go for.”

“I . . . um. I--I don’t read a lot of fiction,” Jon says. Almost absentmindedly, he reaches for his tea and takes a sip, as though he’d forgotten it was there. Maybe he had.

“Sure,” Martin says. He’s not surprised Jon didn’t take him up on the offer, but at least he’s not drawing lines through bus routes anymore. Martin decides to just go for it. If this is the man he’s chosen to direct his affection towards, he might as well speak to him plainly. “I just . . . I don’t think it’s good for you to sit in your office all day and night--I know you stay there too late--reading statements and building up your . . . your conspiracy theories about us.” He takes a breath, forcing himself not to get too heated. “Tim and Sasha and I . . . we’re on your side, Jon. We aren’t trying to--to orchestrate some grand plan, or whatever it is you think we’re up to, and we’re certainly not trying to kill you. We’re your friends. We care about you. Even Tim. Especially Tim. Just . . . let us in, Jon. Talk to us.” Talk to me, he wants to say, but he stops himself. This is bigger than his silly little crush on his boss.

The bus schedule lies off to the side, forgotten, as Jon stares at him. His expression is fraught; he looks torn, like he’s jumping back and forth in a mental argument with himself. He opens his mouth, struggles for a moment to find the words, and then lands on, “I--I want to trust you, Martin. All of you. I wish I had that . . . that luxury. But I can’t trust anyone right now. I don’t understand any of this, and it gets worse every day, a-and I can barely trust myself. I--”

Jon’s voice breaks, his fear coming through, and Martin’s heart aches. “Hey,” he says, trying to sound calming, and reaches across the table. He doesn’t touch Jon, just puts his hand down on the table in front of him, letting it sit there like a stepping stone in a creek. “Just . . . you don’t have to believe me. But we’re not your enemies, Jon. We want to help you. And you don’t have to trust us today, or tomorrow, but . . . but maybe someday soon.”

Jon doesn’t look so sure, but he nods, and gathers himself a bit. He takes another sip of tea.

They don’t really talk at all as they finish their lunch, but the silence is comfortable, and at one point Jon gets up to buy himself another packaged sandwich. “Dinner,” he explains to Martin, with a self-deprecating smile.

“Take it home, yeah?” Martin says. “Don’t stay past six.”

“Alright,” Jon says, acquiescing, and maybe he won’t listen and he��ll stay past the last train and pretend he isn’t sleeping in his chair until seven A.M. like he almost always does. But, Martin thinks, maybe, just maybe, he won’t.

On their way out the door, Jon tosses the inked-up bus schedule into the bin and says, “So, Martin, about those book recommendations . . .”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes #peachyindeed #thank you for the rec and sorry again for the delay!! #ONE more request to do!!

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.9 "Safe and Sound"

CW: injury description, nightmares/ptsd, death mention, strangling mention, gun mention, abduction, tics/tourettes, cigarettes/drugs, past noncon/dubcon mention, past humiliation (let me know if i missed anything!)

Tyson was watching Elias closely as he slept, wrapped up in blankets with his head tilted back. The TV was illuminating his face, and every now and then Tyson could see the dark bruises scattering his face and throat. The ones on his throat were the hardest to look at, the doctors had told him that he had been strangled, that he had died and they had to resuscitate him, and he couldn't help but think about how scared Elias must've been, how painful it was, how long it took for Elias to lose consciousness, how August must've kept going after in order for him to die. It all must've been horrifying, and that's why he was watching Elias sleep instead of joining him, so he could be there if he woke up from a nightmare.

He sighed as his phone went off, knowing it was Leo before he even looked. Leo had been extremely comforting to Tyson the last month and a half, offering him support and reassurance when he couldn't find it anywhere else. They were the only ones who understood this feeling, the feeling of hopelessness when the person they cared about was being tortured. Tyson was lucky that Leo was so understanding and level headed, he would've lost his mind if he didn't have him there as a rock.

Did you get home ok? The text said. Elias shifted a little, and Tyson looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to scream or cry or anything, but he just pulled the blanket closer with an almost unnoticeable whine and continued sleeping.

Yeah. Thank you.

Tyson turned the TV off, too distracted by the quiet background noise. He had to make sure Elias was still breathing, and he had to be able to hear if someone was trying to get in. He wouldn't be caught off guard like last time.

--------------------------------

"What the fuck, get off of me!" Elias screamed. Tyson rolled over, half expecting him to be having a tic attack, only to be staring down the barrel of a gun. Elias was struggling in someone's arms behind him, desperately trying to get away from the gun held to his head.

"We saw you two leaving with Allen today," the person spoke, their voice sure and threatening, "August wasn't very pleased to find out you were hiding his little pet."

"Tyson help me!"

"Where is he?" Now his voice was aggressive, and Tyson shook his head quickly.

"He's not here!" He insisted. "He left this morning! Please don't hurt him!"

The person sighed heavily, irritated by the pleading. "If you insist. Come on, let's go." He instructed the other man that was with him. They began to walk out, Elias still fighting against them as he was dragged along.

"Stop! What are you doing, you can't take him!!" He threw himself out of the bed, but before he could lunge forward to help Elias, he was knocked back with the butt of the gun against his jaw.

"Gotta have some collateral. August is very short tempered, when he finds out we didn't get Allen back he's gonna need a punching bag. You understand."

Elias screamed for help as he was taken outside, begging for Tyson not to let them take him, for them not to hurt him. He ran after them outside, but he was too slow, he was too goddamn slow and his legs could only take him so far down the street after the huge truck speeding away from him.

-------------------------------

Tyson jumped as his phone went off again, then glanced at Elias to make sure he was still asleep. He was, somehow still peacefully, and Tyson sighed in relief.

How is he? Do you need anything?

Tyson smiled, Leo was always so considerate, so caring. He's doing ok, he's asleep right now. Could you come bring us groceries in the morning? Haven't had a chance to get any.

A few seconds after he sent the text, Tyson felt Elias bolting out of his sleep next to him. When he looked at him, he was clutching the blanket and his eyes were darting around the dark room in a panic.

"Hey, you ok?" Tyson murmured, reaching out to rub his shoulder. Elias flinched away, then when he saw that it was Tyson from the headlights of a passing car, his whole demeanor dropped and he let out a shaky breath.

"I thought... I had a dream that..." He trailed off and Tyson tried to touch him again, this time Elias only flinched a little and then relaxed into the touch.

So this was what a nightmare was for Elias. Tyson was relieved he wasn't screaming and panicking, but it was still hard to see his face so horrified when he wasn't in danger anymore. "You're ok, baby. It was just a dream."

Elias stared off into the dark, eyes wide and face pale. "No, it wasn't."

Tyson felt his heart lurch at the words, and he couldn't think of anything to say. Thinking of the fact that Elias was probably reliving torture when he was asleep made him sick to his stomach, made him hate August even more, made him feel more guilty that he hadn't been able to save him. He pulled Elias against his chest, holding him close and stroking his thumb against his cheek. He only allowed himself to be held for a moment before sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes with the blanket. Tyson heard his breathing catch in his throat as he rubbed against the forgotten bruises under his eyes.

"Do you have any cigarettes?" He murmured.

The words sounded so foreign in Elias's mouth, he had always been dismissive of anything of that nature, no desire to smoke or drink or get high, and now he was asking for a cigarette? "You don't smoke, Eli."

He shrugged the words off carelessly, still not looking at Tyson. "I didn't. But I've done a lot of things I wouldn't do, lately. So do you or not?"

"I'm not gonna let you smoke, love." Tyson frowned when Elias stood up, dropping the blanket down to the couch. It was obvious he was having trouble balancing as he pulled on a pair of shoes by the door, and once he had them on he switched the light on. Tyson chewed nervously on his lip as Elias began searching through the living room until he found his wallet.

"Where are you going?" He groaned, standing up as well.

"To get cigarettes. Would you like to join me?" His hand was already on the handle, and Tyson made the mistake of grabbing his shoulder to stop him, making Elias flinch and shrink away from him, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible to avoid being hit. As he waited for the pain to come, he kept his eyes squeezed shut, then he turned and looked up at Tyson with wide eyes and trembling lip when he wasn't hit. He looked horrified, Tyson could cry about how scared he looked, and his hand was frozen on the door.

"I'm...sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," Tyson whispered, guilt dragging his posture down a fraction. "I'm really sorry."

Elias turned away from him again, pressing his forehead against the door frame. He was rigid as he tried calm himself down. Tyson could see his shoulders trembling as he took in a few strained, shuddering breaths. "Do you want to come or not?" He breathed, straightening himself upright as he spoke.

"Yeah. Yeah lets go."

The dim lights in the gas station were flickering as Elias and Tyson waited in line. Elias was standing close to him, his whole demeanor dejected and grief ridden. He scuffed his shoe against the linoleum floor, trying to focus his energy on that instead of ticcing. He was always doing something like that, Tyson had noticed, tapping his fingers or bouncing on the balls of his feet or kicking the ground.

Tyson shuffled closer, reaching out and brushing his hand against Elias's, making him freeze up. He allowed Tyson to wrap his pinkie around his own, felt his eyes on him. There was a bit of hesitance before Elias glanced up at him, and he was met with a soft, reassuring smile. It was such a small gesture, but it made him melt right there. He couldn't help but smile back, swinging their arms back and forth in a playful way.

When they got back to the car, Elias lit up his cigarette immediately, leaning towards the open window as he took long drags. The smoke tasted like August, and it made his insides burn to think about. It made him sick to his stomach, he never wanted to be reminded of August's tongue finding a home in his mouth, his fingers intruding behind his teeth as if Elias hadn't accidentally bit down once or twice. In fact, thinking about any part of August in his mouth made him taste bile, made him want to use acid as mouth wash to try and forget the taste. And yet, here he was with the familiar cigarette held against his lips, forcing himself to inhale and taste the memories all over again, because he was running low on ways to calm himself down, and he couldn't deny the feeling of disgusting tranquility after smoking.

When they got back to the apartment, Elias was even more withdrawn than before they left. Tyson tried to bite back a disappointed sigh when Elias ducked away from his hand that reached for his shoulder a little too quickly. He couldn't even look up at him now, his eyes scanning the floor passively instead. After a long silence, Elias cleared his throat to speak.

"I uh..." He began, voice hushed and raspy, "I need to shower. Can I?"

Tyson blinked at him, surprised that he was asking permission. Before August he would often come home to find that Elias had let himself in with the spare key and was asleep in his bed, or wake up to him cooking in the kitchen like it was his own, singing at the top of his lungs in the shower while Tyson got ready to take him out in the next room. After the first few times he was over, he'd made himself right at home in the small apartment, and Tyson was overjoyed that he felt comfortable with him.

It nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs when he realized that because of August, this place no longer seemed like home to Elias.

"Of course you can, Eli," Tyson finally responded, "you know you can."

There was no argument, no snide comment, not even a pathetic "thank you" that Tyson was half expecting. Elias merely dropped his head down and left the room, shutting the bathroom door so quietly Tyson wasn't even sure he'd actually gone in.

Elias was too afraid to take his clothes off, so instead he found himself staring his reflection down in the mirror. His neck was bruised and reddened from where August had strangled him one too many times, his face pale, hollow, and splotched with bruises, overall he looked dangerously close to collapsing any second. He couldn't really remembered what he looked like shirtless, he had been too high and too preoccupied to pay attention to something so pointless while he was there. If he were able to, he would live in this hoodie, hide his disgusting, used up body from himself and everyone around him. If it were up to him, he would never let the repulsive scars and burns and bruises see the light of day. But it wasn't up to him, he hadn't had a choice over what to do with this body since August. Besides, the shower was running and steaming the room up and his sweatshirt was getting hot, he had no other choice.

"Jesus christ," he whimpered, gaping at the mirror in shock. How had he not died before August choked him? Both sides of his ribs were dark with bruises from being kicked, his torso and chest where mutilated with long, purposeful cuts, he had a huge scar on his shoulder from being shot, and the number of injuries he found grew and grew the longer he looked. There was not a single part of his body that August hadn't ruined, he realized. His breathing was suddenly quick with the overwhelming disgust and panic at how utterly destroyed he was. The room was hot and suffocating in the same way August always was, and his body was a disaster, and he wasn't remotely salvageable, and he couldn't catch his breath. Quickly, he reached forward and flicked the light off, plunging him into darkness so he couldn't see himself.

He showered in the pitch black so he wouldn't have to see, but it didn't help much. It was too late, he'd seen how ruined he was and no amount of darkness would ever make it go away.

He came out of the bathroom with his hoodie back on, his hair dripping onto his face, his eyes bloodshot from crying. He froze in the hall when he heard voices carrying through the living room. One was Tyson's, but the other voice was new, one he didn't recognize. He leaned against the wall heavily, uneasy about seeing anyone else, or anyone else seeing him, for that matter. After what he just saw in the mirror, he didn't want to ever be seen again by anyone.

"Thank you, really. I really appreciate everything you've done for me," Tyson was saying, accompanied by the sound of rustling bags.

"Oh yeah, don't mention it." The other voice said. Elias still didn't recognize it, and he closed his eyes to try and remember harder. "Also, Allen said if he ever feels like he needs someone to talk to he can come to him. It might do them both good, to have someone that understands."

Elias tried not to feel bitter, reminding himself that Allen wasn't the bad guy August made him out to be. At least he really wanted to believe that he wasn't, because if August was telling the truth about Allen it meant that he was also telling the truth about Tyson and Elias really didn't think he would be able to handle it if Tyson and Allen-

"I'd have to talk to him about it." There was a lull in the conversation, and Elias took that time to shuffle into the kitchen, leaning against the counter where Tyson was standing. He glanced up at the stranger for long enough to study his features, then dropped his head back down. He didn't recognize his face, either, but he was surprised to see a warm, friendly smile directed at him.

"Oh, I forgot!" Tyson said, not noticing how his voice raising in excited recollection made Elias flinch horribly next to him. "Elias this is Leo, this is Allen's husband."

Elias looked up at him again, this time nodding at him and forcing a small grin. He hoped it looked convincing. "Hi, Leo."

"Hi," Leo responded. He kept his distance, keeping his hands in his pockets to show he was relaxed, he wasn't ready to harm at a moment's notice. "Nice to finally meet you."

Elias blinked at him, then grew anxious under his lingering stare. He was looking at the bruises on his neck. Or the barely healed black eye. Or his mangled hand. He wanted to pull his hoodie over his injuries, but he knew that wasn't allowed. He was made for other people's consumption. August taught him that.

--------------------------------------

He couldn't remember what warranted it, the entire day was too blocked out and jumbled from the drugs, but he remembered it was a day when August's friends were over again. He remembered because most of them were laughing and teasing him when Elias was tied up to one of the kitchen chairs, stripped of all his clothes. He also remembered being surrounded by flashing cameras and vulgar words and later August told him: "don't start thinking you're your own person, Elias. You exist to be used." Maybe he had said something dumb, he had a tendency to do that. Or maybe August just felt like humiliating him, putting him in his place. And it really did work because after that he couldn't look any of them in the eye. Even the man that had been much too kind to him since the day he'd killed one of them, who always tried to have normal, pleasant conversations with him and make him somewhat comfortable. For a brief moment, he had been a tiny sliver of normalcy in Elias's nightmare, and that had been ripped away almost as soon as it started.

--------------------------------------

He wasn't his own person, he was for consumption, he was entertainment. So he stayed incredibly still so that Leo could do just what he was meant to do: be entertained and consume him.

"Eli, would you hand me that bag, please?" Tyson said from the fridge. He was pointing at a grocery bag, one that held two cartons of eggs. Elias obeyed immediately, happy to have a reason to move. He was extra careful to not drop them, he wouldn't make that mistake a second time. "Thank you, love."

Elias excused himself, stalking off to the living room to sit by himself. He felt rather exhausted suddenly, but he was too afraid to sleep. Dreaming about any of what happened again was much too painful, and he didn't want to make himself vulnerable with Leo here, still unsure of his intentions. He heard Tyson talking to him in the kitchen, but he couldn't focus on what they were saying. He wondered when his head would stop being so foggy.

When Leo finally left, Tyson joined Elias in the living room, sitting close to him on the couch. "How are you feeling?" He asked him carefully.

Elias shrugged, moving to lay down. It was a stupid question, Elias couldn't remember the last time he was able to tell exactly what he was feeling, he was so confused all the time lately. He dropped his head to Tyson's lap, cuddling close to him. He relaxed as he felt his hands in his hair and closed his eyes. Tyson's hands felt so different' than August's, his touch was so merciful and painless. There was no threat behind it, he was simply playing with his hair because he wanted to, because it was how he felt like showing his affection right then. Elias could cry at how much he adored it, how much he felt undeserving of it. He felt himself drifting off to sleep, comforted by Tyson's gentle touches in his hair, on his shoulders. He felt safe, for the moment, and as long as Tyson was holding him, he was able to sleep.

#whump writing #whump character #whump oc #whump drabble #whump community #whump blog #whumpblr #whump #whump tropes #whump scenario #whump art #whumpee #captivity whump #emotional whump #whump ideas #whump prompt #whump fic #creepy whumper #whumper #defiant whumpee #caretaker #whump series #whump dialogue #whump intro #whump aftermath #whump concept #whump comfort #whump mention #whump reference #whump scenes

[ieattaperecorders]

If I Had A Choice

Walking gives you a lot of time to think. Jon and Martin consider things after they leave Salesa's.

Read on Ao3

The thing is, it’s not about what he deserves.

Does Jon deserve to die? It’s a meaningless question now, when death is an escape that few have the luxury of imagining. Death is far from the worst fate that he intimately Knows. Even so, that isn’t the point. Not really.

Would he die to put the world back as it was? That’s no choice at all. There’s still enough humanity in him to see that there is only one answer. But it isn’t about that either. Killing him wouldn’t fix things, and chasing pointless martyrdom through the apocalypse would only leave Martin to face this world alone.

He’s not looking for a hard choice to make, whatever anyone might think. It’s just that he’s not likely to have a choice.

Martin won’t leave him, not even for the peace and comfort of Salesa’s hideaway. That thought fills Jon with more things than he can name. Relief, fear, gratitude, fear, bafflement, fear, fear, fear, but love most of all. Martin won’t leave him, and so Jon can’t leave either. Can’t let the Eye pull him away. Can’t let Terminus catch him.

Not if he has a say in the matter. (He won’t have a say in the matter.)

You really don’t deserve it.

He doesn’t, but it isn’t about that. It doesn’t matter if he deserves Martin or not. Is it even possible, really, to deserve the love of another person? Is it something that can be earned, purchased with a debt of kind acts or romantic words? No. It can only be a gift, and whatever his reasons Martin has given it to him. Martin loves him. It doesn’t matter if Jon deserves it. He has it and he's going to hold on to it.

Since when does anyone get what they deserve?

Martin deserves so many things that he will never have.

We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

There was a time when Jon believed that he could save the world, when he threw himself into the search for answers, certain that if he could see the whole picture then he could understand it all. He ran into the Unknowing, stared at the Dark Sun, crawled into the Buried and carved a path through the Forsaken. He thought that he was preventing rituals, but all the while he was becoming the altar and the knife. It killed something in him, that realization. Whatever hubris, whatever sheer arrogance had made him believe he could save anybody, it was gone. Deep down, he doesn’t believe in a way back.

But he’s been wrong before. He hopes that he’s wrong now. It doesn’t come naturally anymore, hope, but he can try. Try to believe they can bring back a world that is more than just pain and fear. One that has comfort and safety, simple pleasures, peaceful mornings, dreamless nights.

He knows he can't live in that world.

He’s changed too much. He can’t be fixed. That is the reality of it.

Jon doesn’t deserve to be rewarded for bringing about the end. He didn’t deserve to be used by Elias. He doesn’t deserve Martin’s devotion. He doesn’t deserve to die. But it isn’t about what he deserves.

They just get whatever hurts them the most.

Martin won’t leave him. If their desperate quest somehow does succeed and Jon is severed from the Eye, he knows Martin will be with him until the end. Jon can Know every word in every language but none of them name what he feels when he thinks about that.

There are worse fates, he thinks, than spending a week or two living somewhere with Martin while he slowly loses himself, grows tired and hazy until one day he drifts off and doesn’t come back. It might be peaceful.

(Despite everything, he doesn’t want to die. It isn’t about what he wants, either.)

It would be painful to watch, he knows. There is no way to spare Martin the pain of losing him. Even if Jon wanted to (he doesn’t) or could (he couldn’t) convince Martin to leave him, it would only make that pain come sharper and sooner. It will hurt him however it happens.

Jon hopes that he won’t be alone when it does.

Maybe Melanie will reach out after it’s all over - with Jon gone, even Georgie might be willing to speak to him. Basira, she’s already coping with her own loss. Perhaps they can help each other. Jon thinks that Martin will want someone to be there for just as much as he’ll need someone to be there for him.

Even if there is no one... Martin is strong, stronger than Jon had once imagined. He found his own way out of the fog this time. If he suffers, if he mourns, he’ll also heal. He’ll have room to move on in a world of gentle rains and quiet conversations and hot cups of tea.

Jon doesn’t Know this. He doesn’t Know any of it. It’s what he hopes.

What he knows is there is no place for him in that healed world.

What he knows is he is a monster that feeds on fear.

What he knows is Martin won’t leave him.

If this world can be fixed, he’ll do what it takes to fix it. If he can’t survive in that new world, then he’ll die in it. It’s not about punishment, or sacrifice, or fate, or about what he deserves.

This is what Jon can still hope for.

He hears Martin call out and glances back. He’s fallen behind again, or Jon’s been going too fast, lost in thought. Jon holds out a hand which Martin takes, visibly annoyed. He smiles apologetically, hoping Martin will smile back. He does, after a moment of suspense - tossing his head back and rolling his eyes.

“You keep that up, I’m going to start thinking you’re trying to ditch me,” he says.

Jon’s grip tightens. His voice is blazing.

“Never,” he says.

* * *

It’s not about what Martin wants. It never is.

But right now, he is where he wants to be. He meant what he said. It would have been nice to stay in Salesa’s home a little longer, but he’d rather be here with Jon than there with Annabelle. Besides, he couldn’t abandon everyone else, couldn’t leave the world to this hell. And obviously he isn’t leaving Jon.

I mean, you could have...

Martin had waited for it as they packed. He’d braced for it as they made their way to the front, holding Jon’s hand and steering him so that he didn’t stop walking or wander off. He knew Jon would point out the obvious eventually – that if he wanted to, Martin could stay behind.

When he finally did say it, hesitant and without much force, it was almost a relief.

I f you wanted to forget all of it, stay here and just... escape. I would understand.

The thing is, Martin doesn’t want to escape. That isn’t what he’s hoping for.

What would he even do if he stayed with Salesa? Sit around on fancy furniture looking at flowers while seven billion people continued on in agony? Spend a few years drinking before noon, then blow his brains out once the food’s gone? What kind of paradise is that?

No, it isn’t for him. Nice place to visit, wouldn’t want to die there.

What Martin really wants is to ask Jon if there’s a nearby nightmare domain where he can pick up a chainsaw or a flamethrower or two, then pop back quickly to have one last chat with Annabelle. But that probably wouldn’t end as well in reality as it would in his head.

Martin isn’t an idiot, he knows nothing that Annabelle says is spoken in his interest or Jon’s. Anything she tells him is only her trying to get under his skin for her own ends. He knows this. He does. The trouble is, she’s good at it, and sometimes her words tug at his worries even if he doesn’t really believe them.

Does he even need you at all?

But she made a mistake there, because the one thing he knows is that Jon needs someone. Even now. Especially now. Maybe there are times when he can’t get all the way to “Jon needs me.” But he needs somebody, Martin has no doubts about that. If her game is to convince him otherwise, she’s going to lose.

He should expect someone like Annabelle to think that Jon doesn’t need him.

What does she know about what people need? She probably sees everyone as a tool she can use for whatever plans her spider puppet-masters are cooking up.

She wasn’t there with Jon in those first few days, when he was destroying himself with guilt. She wasn’t the one he clung to while he wept, who listened to him pour out his self-loathing and his dread, who held him when it seemed like he might shake apart.

She didn’t see the look on Jon’s face when Martin told him that he didn’t want to stay in the fog – that collapsing relief and barely-held back joy. Didn’t feel how tightly Jon clung to him as they made their way out of that house, one hand gripping his, the other around his arm, as if holding something precious that had been nearly ripped away.

She wouldn’t know or care about the small, fragile smiles that Martin can still coax from him, despite everything.

What does she know about what he needs?

Does she even have any friends that aren’t mind controlled into thinking they like her?

Has anyone ever told her she’s their reason for holding on?

Just wanted to make you say it.

Now that would be a thing to ask the next time she shows up. ‘Hey Annabelle, just curious, is there anyone who actually cares about you?’ And she’d say something like ‘well Martin, are you sure that anyone has ever really cared about you?’ in that smug voice of hers. And then Jon would say that he cared about Martin, that he loved him, and then he’d blow her up with his Archivist vision.

Yeah. That wouldn’t end as well in reality as it did in his head either.

He was in love, and he was loved, and he wouldn’t forget that. He could believe that Jon did need him.

But he still worried.

Because when was the last time Jon let himself have what he needed?

Life's always more complicated than that, isn't it?

If he put more stock in what Annabelle said, Martin might see Jon giving him these outs as trying to get rid of him. And he knows there’s something deep in him, something old and sore, that resonates with that. But that isn’t what he’s afraid of, not really. He’d have to ignore a great number of the things that Jon says and does to really believe that he doesn’t want Martin around.

What he worries is that Jon might be trying to give him up. Let him run away somewhere safe so that he won’t have to face what’s coming. Whatever it is he Sees.

He wanted to stay a little longer at Salesa’s, but it’s not about what he wants. Jon couldn’t stay, Martin couldn’t leave him, so Martin couldn’t stay either. Jon apologized, but it wasn’t like that – it wasn’t something Martin was giving up for him, he stayed with Jon for himself as well. And it’s not Jon’s fault that he can’t live without the -

Can’t live at that house. Not for long.

No. Nope. No, no, no, no. He isn’t going to give into despair about that. This world is huge, and weird, and terrible, and most of it doesn’t make sense except in the incomprehensible non-logic of dreams.

If a cracked camera can hide a bubble of peace in the apocalypse, there’s something that can be done for Jon. Martin is not going to let go of that possibility. He’s had a glimpse of the life they might have together, and he wants to have that in earnest.

But it’s never about what Martin wants.

“Hey!” He shouts at Jon, who’s beginning to shrink in the distance. “Slow down, huh?”

Jon turns rabbit-quick and startled. He smiles sheepishly as Martin approaches, holding out a hand for him to take.

Martin rolls his eyes as he grips it. “You keep that up, I’m going to start thinking you’re trying to ditch me.”

Jon stares at his words, and for a moment he squeezes Martin’s hand hard enough to hurt. He looks into Martin’s eyes and whispers never. And Martin swallows, and breathes, and breathes.

* * *

Two figures stand in a lifeless field, saying nothing. The same thought in both their minds.

If I had a choice, I would choose to be with you.

#mag 181 #tma spoilers #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin

[ivyglow]

sweet, red and sticky | Elias Pettersson

A/n: Late again ik, but hope you guys like it anyway. A huge shout out to @nhlguentzel for proofreading this piece <3 you’re an angel, Tori!!

Requested: yes

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: mention of anxiety

Prompt: 82. “You’re stained with my lipstick.”

You and Elias were not what most people would call friends. Well, when you first met, it was animosity at first sight and some even joked that you were jealous of his friendship with your brother Brock. But in reality, there was just something about him that would push all of your buttons at once, leaving you dazed and confused, and as much as you wanted to ignore his existence, he was always there hanging around your brother’s house or in every celebration you went to. Eventually, things started to escalate. Your bickering interactions began to end in secret make-out sessions. 

At least, you two thought it was a secret.

 Brock knew you better and he knew his best friend as well. He also knew that the jokes everyone made about you and Elias dating someday was more than likely going to become a reality. It was a Saturday night and the team was celebrating a win at Brock’s place. You tried to dodge the invitation but the guys were all in your messages and nobody was having it. So the only solution was to get dressed, head to your brother’s place, and then go to your room there and hide until the night was over. And you did it. 

By the time you got there, everyone had already arrived and you made small talk for some minutes before disappearing to the purple and blue room. The end of the hall gave you enough distance to drown out most of the noise, however, even in the silent space, your mind was still pure confusion and tiredness as you lay there trying to stop the world for a minute or two. First, it was school and the tons of stuff you had to do but could not concentrate on for more than ten minutes, work came in second on the list with your boss always expecting more than you could give. It wasn’t like he was a bad guy or anything, he just had too much faith in you and it made your anxiety go to the roof. And then there was Elias and the makeout sessions. You never knew what they meant, where you two stood, what was really happening, and whether or not Brock was gonna be upset when he finds out about the two of you. 

And so you wished for at least one full minute of no problems to worry about, nothing, just a stop on the constant spinning of your world. 

“If you’re hiding to think about me, here I am” his voice echoed inside your mind along with the fast noise of the music and chatting before he closed the door behind him. 

You lifted your head from the pillow to look at the man in front of you, a slim smile on his lips, so well shaped and soft when against yours... “Hey, you in there?” now he was sitting at the edge of the bed beside you, his hands right in front of your face trying to catch your full attention. And you see, that’s the thing about Elias, he liked to have it all. All of your attention, all of your kisses, it doesn’t matter. He always craved it fully, pulling the edges. 

“You’re okay?” he asked, a concerned look on his eyes. You nodded a silent yes, not daring to look at him. “Honey, I’m used to your non-stop talking, and this is not a good silence, it’s a weird silence. You’re sure you’re good?” You almost cursed after the nickname. And you knew that if you simply took a look at his face or into his eyes, you would tell him all of your secrets. You were so tired of trying to suppress the feelings that tried to swim to the surface every time he showed up.

So when his thumb found your chin directing your face to his, you knew things would never be the same. 

“I’m afraid you don’t like me the way I think I like you, and I’m afraid I’m not as good as my boss always thinks I am, or that I’m not smart enough to do all the stuff that I had to do this semester, but I don’t wanna worry anybody cause everyone always says that I have everything and there are people out there wishing they had my life and one minute I’m sad the other I feel guilty for being sad and I feel so dumb, Elias. I’m not even making sense, I’m sorry...” 

“You are more than enough in every aspect of your life, y/n. I can go on all day telling you how good you are at everything you do,” his big hands cups your face, “except cooking, you are worse than Brock at trying to make breakfast,” he jokes, looking for at least a small smile, which he gets a chuckle. 

“I know how to do instant noodles, doesn’t it count?” you look at him, tears still in your eyes but now an amusing smile on your face. 

“Hell yeah, that’s more than enough to me.” His hands wipe your eyes one more time and you do a little turn to kiss the inside of his palm. Elias watches you intently like he usually does, like he’s reading a book or trying to piece puzzles on the right place...this time, he looks at you as if he liked you just as much as you liked him and it felt good, it felt refreshing and calm, like when you stare too long into his eyes and it reminds you of the ocean or the sky on a summer day, or your favorite dress when you were a little girl. And so when he softly pressed his lips against yours, it felt like home. The way his hands found their way into your hair and yours gripped his shoulders bringing his body as close as possible, or how he tasted so salty but sweet at the end. It all felt like home to you. 

“Sweetie...” he trailed after one more peck on your lips. “Is it a new lip balm?”

You took some seconds to even your breathing before opening your eyes.

“It’s actually a new lipstick...” you contemplate saying it WAS a lipstick, considering he probably took it off while kissing you, but decided to just explain, too engrossed on the idea that he pays attention to how you taste, but Elias seemed to catch your thoughts on the air. “Oh fuck, my face is all red isn’t it?” you chuckle lightly and nod your head. 

“Might as well take what’s missing,” he trails before going for your lips once again. You smile into the kiss and he directs his mouth to your neck, softly biting the spot he knows makes you laugh. You squeal before blindly searching for his lips on yours again, too engrossed in the moment to hear the footsteps on the hall or your door opening. 

“Y/n, have you seen E-” Brock freeze on his tracks taking in the image in front of him. 

“Oh fuck” you curse. 

“It’s not what you think...” Elias starts, but the look on your brother’s face leaves you unsure about if he was even mad. 

“Of course it is what he’s thinking, Elias, you’re stained with my lipstick...” you roll your eyes before laughing along with Brock. 

“I knew it! You’re always too interested in how y/n’s doing and always wanting to know if she’s coming to games...” Now Elias looked more embarrassed than worried about Brock’s reaction. And then your brother looks at you, laughing again. “Oh my gosh, and I fell for your ‘I don’t care if he’s your best friend, he’s annoying’ talk.” 

This time, you were the only one to roll eyes. 

“Just saying, I’m okay with it, but not when I’m home, alright?” Brock opened the door, trying to control his laughter at the shade of pink Elias’ face got with his comment. Considering his lips were already red from your lipstick, it was a pretty funny view.

“Oh, fuck you, Brock!” You threw a pillow in his direction and he dodges it before walking to the hallway. 

“And we still need to talk, the two of you and me” was the last thing you heard before he went his way.

You let out a sigh, relief, and embarrassment finally sinking. 

“At least we don’t need to hide anymore,” the blonde beside you said before standing up to close and lock the door. 

You arched your eyebrows, giving him a glare that was mostly a funny look. “You know he’s coming back here as soon as he notices it is closed, right?” 

“Let me have at least twenty minutes of privacy with my girlfriend.” He made one of his comic faces and you giggled. 

“You’re bold, aren’t ya?” 

Elias smiled before slouching beside you on the bed. “I mean, you told me you like me, I like you, we’re together and stuff, how do you wanna call it?” You stop on your tracks for a second. “You like me?” 

“Obviously. I was supposed to say it as soon as you started to rant, but I got distracted with your lipstick.” He was so casual about telling you he liked you, playing with the threads from the rip on your jeans. You turned to look at him with a small smile. 

“I like you even more or so than you like me,” he whispered before kissing you, and by the look on his face, you knew that he was up to something. He looks at you with a devilish smirk, “Also, I like that lipstick too. For sure.” 

#nhl imagine #elias pettersson #elias pettersson imagine #vancouver canucks #brock boeser #hockey imagine #elias pettersson request #mels writing

[andie01writing]

Moving On

It had been a month. One whole month since I made a fool out of myself. One whole month since I ruined my friendship with Elias. The man having distancing himself from me since, approaching only once seconds before Creative pulled me away for a meeting. It hurt me more than I’m willing to admit. Elias seemed to have moved on with his life. I’ve spent a majority of my nights sleeping on my couch to avoid the noises floating through our shared bedroom wall which brings me closer to my other noisy neighbor. Although I never saw whoever moved in a week and a half ago, I’ve heard them almost every night banging around their apartment. Literally banging. It sounds like they are destroying something over there. After the fourth night in a row of being trapped between my two noise makers I barge to the neighbor I can actually look in the eye without feeling shame. Banging on the door I wait impatiently as I hear the person making their way through their apartment. Suddenly I’m face to face with a shirtless Tye Dillinger.

“Danica?”

“Tye. Do you have any idea how loud you’re being? Your neighbors are trying to sleep.”

“I’m sorry. Trying to get new furniture built. I wasn’t aware the walls are thin or that your room is next to my living room.”

“It’s not. I sleep on my couch,” I mutter. “Just please keep it down late at night. You can bang around all you want before ten pm but after that, please, let me sleep.”

“Understood,” he nods. “Sorry again.”

“No problem. Thank you. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Are all my neighbors as cute as you?”

“Goodnight Tye,” I call entering my apartment.

I sit on an equipment box shifting through the sheets containing my ideas for my new character. Each sheet containing a detailed character run down, finishers, and gear designs. I have a meeting with the higher ups and I need to narrow down my options to present to them.

“Hello Neighbor,” Tye grins plopping himself down beside me.

“Hey Tye.”

“Been sleeping well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I assumed you would be with your boy right now.”

“My boy,” I ask absentmindedly.

“Elias. You two used to be inseparable.”

“Not anymore,” I shrug.

“Must be something big if a broken leg won’t bring you to his side.”

“Yeah, well…Wait. What? Who broke their leg?”

“Elias, if the rumors are true.”

“Fuck,” I huff sliding from the box. “Do you know where they took him?”

“He might still be in the trainer’s room.”

Thanks,” I call back to him.

“Danica,” Tye calls.

“I have to find Elias.”

By the time I had found the trainer’s Elias had already been sent to the hospital. He was sent immediately home afterwards so I had to wait until we returned from the tour to check on him. I left as soon as the show was over and arrived home after midnight. I stayed up most of the night cooking Elias’ favorite meal to make him feel better before passing out on the couch. Napping until two in the afternoon, I pull myself up and to the man’s door, arms loaded with baking dishes. Kicking the door, I wait impatiently.

“Hello?”

I peer over the stack in my arms. “Hi? Umm,” I search for the familiar looking woman’s name.

“It’s Peyton. Can I help you?”

“Is Elias home?”

“He is,” her accented voice clips. “He’s resting.”

“I’ve brought him dinner,” I explain.

“He doesn’t need your dinner. He has me now,” she growls.

“It’s chicken lasagna. His favorite.”

“He has me now. You are no longer needed. You are no longer wanted around here. He doesn’t want your little pity dinners. He has a goddess now, he doesn’t need a puppy anymore. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Got it,” I state, swallowing my emotions. “I won’t bother anyone anymore.”

Marching back towards my apartment, banging from my other neighboring apartment catches my attention. Squaring my shoulders, I march past my apartment to knock on Tye’s door. Shuffling the dishes in my arms.

“Are you trying to sleep at two in the afternoon,” he smirks.

“I actually just got up,” I reply. “Figured if I don’t come over to help you will be at this for the rest of your life. Chicken lasagna?”

“Food and help, how can I resist?”

“You can’t,” I grin.

“Dani,” someone calls softly.

Turning I find Elias in his doorway. I offer him a sad smile before stepping into Tye’s apartment.

“Let me put this in the kitchen,” Tye offers taking the dishes from my arms.

“Thanks. What are we doing here,” I ask staring at the pieces along the living room floor.

“Entertainment center.”

“You know you can pay for someone to build everything for you?”

“What’s the fun in that?”

“Peace of mind for your neighbors. You know your other neighbor left shortly after you moved in. That can’t be a coincidence,” I smirk as he joins me in the living room.

“Should we get started? Show me your building prowess.”

“Okay, I’ll admit, you’re better at that than I am,” Tye chuckles as he dishes out the food. He had seated me on a tall stool along the kitchen island as he bustles along after putting together his entertainment center and a huge bookcase. “Wine?”

“No thanks,” I crinkle my nose at him. “I’m more of a beer girl.”

“If you say you drink anything other than light beer I may have to marry you.”

“I prefer Hofbräuhaus Dunkel but it’s so hard to find. I usually settle for Guinness Draught.”

Clutching his heart, he drops to one knee beside me.

“No,” I chuckle. “I have to at least go on a date with a guy before I marry him.”

“So, you want to go on a date?”

“Are you asking me out?”

He shrugs taking his seat beside me.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s going on with you and Elias,” he asks after a few minutes of silence.

“There is no me and Elias anymore. I was informed that I’m no longer needed or wanted.”

“Was all this for him?”

“Originally? Yeah. Then I heard you banging around in here so I decided you needed it more.”

“Thank you,” he smiles.

The rest of the meal is quiet.

“I might need some help setting up the dining room as an office tomorrow,” Tye suggests as I help him clean up.

“I’m pretty sure I can put together a desk.”

“Well I can’t cook as well as you but I can order some mean take out.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he grins moving closer.

“Good night, Tye,” I breathe though my feet stay rooted to the floor. I didn’t want to leave the content little bubble that was cultivated in his apartment. The pain I felt before coming in here a distant memory.

“Good night, Danica.” He bends to brush his lips across my cheek. “Are you going to stand there all night,” he whispers against my ear.

Shaking my head to clear it, “Umm…Yeah. I mean no. I’m just…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Before you go,” he states reaching into a drawer. “You left these with me.” He holds out a stack of papers I recognize.

“My character ideas. Thank you. I have a meeting tomorrow at the PC, I would have needed these.”

“I would go with a combination of the top two,” he grins tapping the papers.

“See you tomorrow night.”

“I can’t wait.”

Over the next week I spent my nights putting together furniture that I suspect Tye bought specifically to keep me coming over. Including a metal chair, he promptly relocated to outside my apartment door next to mine.

“That is everything,” I sigh laying back on the floor exhausted.

“Yep,” he smiles down at me.

“So how are you going to lure me over here now?”

“I guess I’ll just have to find the courage to ask you out on a date.”

Pulling myself from the floor, “Well when you find your courage, let me know. I need a shower, I feel grimy.”

“Danica,” Tye starts as I turn to leave.

“Yeah.”

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Thought you would never ask,” I smile.

“Friday?”

“Seven?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiles licking his lips. “Maybe I’m pushing my luck here but…”

I press my lips to his cutting off his sentence and he pulls me tightly against his torso, his mouth overpowering mine. “I hope that’s what you were about to ask for,” I pant as we break apart.

He nods.

“See you Friday,” I grin backing away and he releases me reluctantly.

“If I make it that long.”

“I’m sure it will be torture.”

“You have no idea,” he grins.

“Goodnight Tye.”

Exiting his apartment, I stutter step at the sight of Elias beside my door. My eyes drift down to the cast on his leg before squaring my shoulders.

“Dani,” he states from his spot in my chair.

“Elias.”

“Can we talk?”

“I got your message from your…Whatever. From Peyton. I know where I stand,” I mutter unlocking my door.

“What did she say to you?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know.”

“Dani,” he growls grabbing my forearm. “What did she say to you?”

“That I’m no longer needed or wanted over there,” I nod towards his apartment. “So why don’t you get back over there and I’ll stay over here in my place.”

“I’ll always need you, Dani,” his thumb strokes along my skin.

I snort in response.

“I do. You’re my best friend. I need you to call me out on my bullshit. I need you to bounce ideas off of. I’ve been losing my mind without you,” he mumbles. “I wanted to give you your space after…after that night but damn it was hard.”

“So I’ve heard,” I sniff. “So hard I’ve had to sleep on my couch to get any rest.”

“The past three weeks it’s been all Peyton,” he states.

I stare down at him.

“You’ve made me want to try the whole dating thing,” he shrugs, tugging me closer. “Wanted to see what you found so interesting about it.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“She’s a good girl. Maybe not the best fit for me but we’re making it work.”

I cock an eyebrow at him, covering his hand with mine. The way he stated it causes my stomach to knot.

“She has a bit of a jealous streak.”

“You don’t say,” I smirk, relaxing slightly.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Don’t fuck up your relationship because of me.”

“She needs to know when to release that jealousy. If my eyes wonder while we’re out, it’s fine. When it comes to you, her jealousy has no place.”

I swallow back my emotions, blinking away tears as I step away.

“So you and Tye, huh?”

“You left a big hole in my life. It’s nothing yet,” I shrug. “We’re going out Friday. Are you going to tell me you don’t like it?”

“No. Tye is a good guy. I’m glad you found each other,” he smiles.

“You should get back to your apartment before your girlfriend’s jealousy shows itself.”

“She’s at her place tonight.”

“Good,” I smirk pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I miss my bed.”

“Are we good, Dani?”

“We’re getting there. I’ll see you around, Eli.”

“Hungry,” the text reads.

This is my current communication style with my friend. Text messages and shouting through our shared wall when he is alone. My presence is usually met icily by Peyton so we tend to limit her knowledge of the fact. “Getting ready to head out to dinner. Have to suffer with your girlfriend’s cooking.”

“She’s leaving. Still hungry.”

“I’ll bring some leftovers before I leave.”

I smile as I make my way to the kitchen.

“You ready?”

“Just a minute,” I call back. My relationship with Tye had grown over the past two months. Spending most of our time away from work snuggled up on the couch in one apartment or the other. The fact that he showed no ill feeling towards my mending relationship with Elias making me fall harder each day. “Elias,” I call through the wall.

“I’m alone,” he calls back.

“You got a plate for him,” Tye asks.

“Just leftovers from last night,” I state pulling Tupperware from the fridge. I shrug at his questioning look. “She gets mad when she finds my dishes over there.”

“Our reservations are in twenty minutes. Whoa,” he breathes finally taking in my appearance. “You look amazing.”

“That means a lot coming from the perfect ten,” I smirk. “Two minutes and then we can go,” I smirk, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as I pass. Entering Elias’ apartment, I find him seated at his dining room table waiting for me. “Hungry,” I smirk.

“Starving.”

“I could always teach Peyton…”

“I suggested it. Did not end well,” he grimaces.

“You’re loss.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Poor baby,” I smirk patting his head. “Eat up before she catches you. I have dinner reservations to get to. Love ya.”

“Ditto. You look great tonight, Sweetheart.”

“I know.” Stepping out, I wrap my arms around my boyfriend. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

Dinner was silent. Tye seemed upset, paying and ushering me from the table and into the car the second my plate was removed by our server. The drive home is just as silent.

“Hey Babe,” I start easing down beside him on my couch. “Did I do something?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You just seemed a little… You’ve seemed upset tonight.”

“It’s nothing.”

“If it’s upsetting you then it’s something,” I murmur propping my chin on his shoulder, my arm wrapping around his waist to hold him close.

“I don’t want to come off the wrong way.”

“What is it?”

“You said ‘I love you’ to Elias.”

“I’ve said that to him many times.”

“You haven’t said it to me.” He turns to stare into my eyes. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to but…I love you and it just kinda hurt to hear you say it so easily to some other guy.”

“Elias and I have been friends for two years. Our love has had time to grow. That’s why we can communicate it so easily. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t…”

“You’re not a jealous person. If something is bothering you, you should be able to voice it. I do love you Tye. I just didn’t want to freak you out by saying it first.”

A small smile quirks his lips. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Gets better every time.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” I grin.

“So demanding,” he returns the grin lowering his mouth to mine.

“You love it,” I breathe between kisses.

“Damn right,” he chuckles pulling me onto his lap. His hands skim down my sides to rest on my hips, his eyes following his hands down my body. “I don’t think I’ve told you enough how amazing you look in this dress.”

“You should see me out of it,” I tease without thinking only registering the words when his gaze snaps back to mine. Our relationship has been moving along painfully slow in the physicality department, partially because of my lingering fear.

“Danica…”

Standing, I toe off my high heels before reaching for the zipper.

“Let me,” Tye states sitting forward. His fingers ghost over my back before sliding the zipper slowly downward. The dress sliding down to pool around my feet. “You’re right. Much better out of it,” he sighs, his mouth going to my stomach. Kissing a trail upwards, his eyes never leaving mine as his mouth sucks and nips along my skin.

Reaching between us I work the buttons of his dress shirt loose slowly. Sliding it from his torso I stare down at him.

“See something you like,” he smirks.

“Ten. Ten. Ten,” I chuckle lowering myself back onto his lap.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he chuckles wrapping my legs around his waist before standing with me. He cuts off my protest with a searing kiss as he moves through the apartment. “Although you make me feel like a horny teenager sometimes, I’m not screwing you on the couch.”

“My bedroom isn’t the most romantic place either,” I mutter as a moan floats through the wall from Elias’ apartment.

“Now I know why you sleep on your couch,” he mutters settling me on the bed. “I bet you could do better.”

“Wha… Oh,” I groan as his hand slides beneath my panties, stroking me slowly. “Tye,” I breathe.

“No,” he tsk, his fingers sliding deep inside me. “Let them hear it.”

“Tye,” I pant as his thumb presses tight circles on my clit. “Wait.”

“What?”

Stripping my bra and underwear, I lie back beneath him. “Much better,” I smile. “Where were you?”

“Damn,” he sighs, his eyes sweeping down my body. “You’re the real perfect ten.” His free hand moves across my breasts palming them gently before lowering his mouth to lavish my nipples.

“Fuck, Tye,” I groan.

“Mmmmm,” he sighs against my skin. “That is the sexiest thing I ever heard.”

Reaching between our bodies I fumble with the fly of his pants.

“Fuck,” he groans as I’m finally able to slide beneath his briefs, wrapping a hand around his erection.

Doesn’t matter,” I whisper as my hand pumps along him. “You got me now.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

“I can’t… I want this to be perfect. I need to slow…”

“I just need you right now. We’ll work on the slow and sensual later. Right now…” I swallow back a whimper as he removes his fingers from me.

“Do I need to run to my place for condoms?”

“No,” I groan rolling to my bedside table. “Get those pants off.”

Pulling a string of four condoms from the drawer, tossing them to the man.

“Ambitious,” he smirks, tearing one from the string.

“Prepared,” I counter, watching Tye roll the condom down. “Come here,” I smile beckoning him.

Guiding himself inside me, he releases a shaky breath. “Perfect.”

“Tye,” I groan, searching out his lips. “Fuck me. Please. I need you.”

“Shit,” he mutters. His rhythm is fast and deep, also absolutely perfect.

My nails dig into the flesh of his back as my orgasm builds.

“You like that, Baby,” he pants against my ear.

“Fuck yes.”

“You gonna come for me?”

“Mmhmm,” I whine. “Harder.”

“Anything for you,” he groans.

His hands grip my hips slamming them against his as he pounds up in me. I feel myself clamping around him immediately as I fall over the edge, my orgasm washing over me fast. “Fuck,” I moan loudly.

“God, you’re sexy as hell when you come.”

“You’re turn,” I pant pulling his face to mine, my eyes bore into his. “Let me see how sexy you look when you come. Come on, Baby.”

“Fuck Dani,” he growls as his hips stutter against me. “Fuck,” he pants before capturing my lips. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I mumble against his lips. “Stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he grins, tossing the condom into the trash before settling back beside me in the bed.

“Good,” I pull the blankets over us.

#wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #elias samson #elias #tye dillinger #mistakes series

[hockeytrashgoblin]

Rare ~ Matthew Tkachuk

A/n: Hey yall I love selena gomez. That’s all. This is just a short one so sorry about that but I just liked ending it where it was. More coming soon. Enjoy

“Matty I’m home!” I called out into the apartment slipping my shoes off. I hung up my purse and walked through the place. “Matthew?”

I wandered around until I got to the patio and saw him sitting outside on a beach chair. I took a minute to just stand there and admire him. Recently he was starting to make me feel kinda dumb for just wanting to look at how hot he was. To be honest our relationship was at a really rocky place right now and I didn’t know why or what changed.

I decided against going to talk to him and just went to get dinner ready instead. I put on some music quietly and started cutting up vegetables for a stir fry. I opened a window when it was time to cook everything so that it wouldn’t get too warm in the kitchen. I didn’t think of the fact that Matt would be able to hear everything inside until I heard the sliding glass door open and shut.

“Hi Matty.”

“Hi baby. I didn’t know you were home.” he said coming over and giving me a kiss on the head.

“I got back a little while ago. You looked so calm and relaxed that I didn’t want to bug you.”

“Eh, it wouldn’t have been that much of a bother.” he said shrugging and smiling at me.

“Wow thanks.” I said rolling my eyes, just as sarcastic as he was. “How was your day?”

“You’re gonna give me attitude like that and then ask me how my day was? Really?” he asked crossing his arms. Making me scrunch up my brows in confusion.

“What do you mean attitude? I was being sarcastic. Like you were.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic.”

“Then that is definitely not any better and you deserve attitude for that.”

“No I don’t!”

“Matt you literally said me coming out to say hi ‘wouldn’t have been that much of a bother’.” I said mocking his voice.

“Yeah because it wouldn’t have been a big bother.”

“But it still would have bothered you if I had. So clearly I made the right choice by just staying inside.”

“Babe this is ridiculous. Stop fighting, because I’m sick of it right honestly.”

“So am I but how am I supposed to react when you blow shit up for no reason? I know everyone else let’s you do whatever you want Matty but I’m not. I know you hate that but fuck dude.”

“No one let’s me do anything I want what are you even talking about?!”

“Nothing, nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever, I’m done fighting. I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” he walked out of the room and I just finished dinner quietly. 

Pretty much as soon as our mini fight was done all was forgiven and back to normal. That’s what really bugged me, was how fast it went from bad to okay and the fact that I just had to go with whatever was happening. We were sitting on the couch watching Game of Thrones together until late into the night. I was getting restless sitting next to my super gorgeous boyfriend though. I was watching him more than the show by that point. I was sitting in a perfect position to just lean forward and connect my lips to his neck. Which I did. He didn’t react right away, or at all until I moved his shirt and started leaving a mark under his collarbone. 

“Whatcha doin little vampire?” he asked smiling squeezing my ass for good measure.

“You just looked so hot baby, I can’t help it..”

“Oh really? I’m just that hot huh?” he asked with a cocky smirk.

“You know you are.” I said pushing him back to lay down on the couch making him laugh. I crawled over top of him and straddled his waist going back to his neck. He grabbed my hips and pushed me down onto his growing erection groaning in my ear.

“You gonna go down on me? Take my cock in your mouth so good?”

“Please let me..”

“Always baby. Go ahead.” he shifted his hips to let me pull his pants down just enough to free his dick. I didn’t have to do much and it didn’t take long until he was finishing in my mouth. “Go wait for me upstairs baby. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay.” I smiled and gave him a kiss before going up to our shared room. After about 10 minutes I heard him talking to his friends on xbox live and knew that he was absolutely not going to be coming up to finish what was started downstairs or even just to come to bed for a long time. I laid in the bed and was just frustrated with how things were going. I couldn’t even get him interested in sleeping with me anymore. That was the last thing we really had at this point. 

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

It wasn’t until about a week later that I decided to try something to get Matty’s attention. I spent the entire morning walking around the apartment with just a pair of underwear and a bralette on. He completely ignored me. While that felt like shit he told me on his way out that Johnny and Elias were coming over after practice so I decided to try and make him jealous. If he still got jealous there had to be something there right?

By the time all the boys got back I was laying on the couch watching some home improvement show. They were loud and joking around until they got to the living room and saw me.

“Hey boys! How was practice?” I asked, giving them smiles.

“It was good.” Johnny said.

“Hard.” Elias added looking at me.

“Not the only thing hard.” You heard Matthew mumble grumpily.

“What was that Matty?”

“Nothing babe.” he said rolling his eyes coming over and laying on top of me to give me a kiss. He got up and pulled a blanket around me before sitting up on the floor in front of me. I put my fingers in his hair and started giving him head scratches while they set up their video game. Matt let them go first and he just sat with me. I put my leg over his shoulder and he kept giving my calf small kisses until it was his turn. Pretty much at that point and for the rest of the night he just forgot I existed. The other two boys didn’t and it was nice getting some male attention but it wasn’t the attention I wanted. Eventually I just went upstairs and waited for hours with tears in my eyes. After a few hours he came up, crawled into bed, gave me a kiss on the back of the neck and pulled me close to him before falling asleep immediately. I laid there for a while before I shifted around and woke him up by turning on the lamp on my side of the bed.

“Babe? What the fuck are you doing?” he asked confused, rubbing his eyes.

“Can we talk please?” I asked quietly.

“It’s the middle of the night, can it wait?” he asked rubbing my arm softly. I broke into sobs and shook my head. His expression relaxed immediately and he pulled me towards him in a hug. “What’s the matter (y/n)?”

“Do you still love me?” I asked not beating around the bush.

“What? Babe of course I still love you! Why would you ever ask that? What’s this about?”

“Recently things have just been really hard. A lot of fighting, a lot of going to bed angry and alone, a lot of just not feeling very appreciated. It feels like you don’t care.”

“I’ve been making you feel like that? For real?” he asked in shock. I just nodded and fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.

“It feels like you’re getting ready to leave.”

“Baby no. Don’t think like that.” he held me closer to him and smoothed out my hair.

“I’ve always felt like you were it for me Matthew. I love you so much and now it just feels like I’ve been aiming too high and it’s not something you want, like you’re getting sick of me being around or something.”

“That is not even close to true. (y/n) you’re the only person I’ve ever loved. You changed me remember? I never thought I’d ever love one person, let alone love someone this much.”

“It just seems like you’re getting really sick of having me around all the time. Like I try to be there for you after a game and you’re annoyed. I try to help you by doing things around the house but you get annoyed. I try to go to every single game possible and you get annoyed when I miss one. It seems like anything to get annoyed with me for you just take it and run. I’m trying my best Matty. Not a lot of people would try this hard..”

“Baby nobody in their right mind would try this hard. That’s why I love you. You don’t care that it’s kind of crazy to want to be with me and try to make me better, you stick around and do it anyway. I know that you’re special and that I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I know I don’t do anything to help with the fighting and stuff but I just wish things were going smoother. I just get so mad when I do things for you all the time and you don’t do the same. It’s not fair. I’m there for you and I support you through everything and then you get upset with me and I just explode. I just feel very unappreciated. There’s no reason we shouldn’t be succeeding right now.”

“I agree. I’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like I didn’t appreciate every single thing you do for me and every single sacrifice you make. I get so angry and stressed out and I’ve been taking it out on you instead of putting those emotions somewhere more useful.”

“I don’t care if you take your anger out on me in ways that aren’t screaming at me and leaving me alone all night.”

“What do you mea- Oh! Oh..you little..” he just groaned and smiled throwing his head back. “Don’t make me think about that right now. I’m trying to be serious.”

“I’m sorry Matty.”

“I feel awful that I’ve let you go so long to the point where you blew up in the middle of the night.” he said frowning, playing with my hand. “What can I do to fix it?”

“I don’t know Matt..”

“How about we start going out more? Like going on dates again? Once or twice a week when I’m home or something like that. Just us two and we can talk and just be together one on one?”

“That sounds like it would be nice.”

“Yeah and I can start helping more around the house so you’re not as stressed out. I’ll even start going to the team therapist again if you want.”

“Matty that’s a lot of promises.”

“And I intend to keep every one of them babygirl.” he said softly bringing my face to his in a soft kiss. “You’ll see. I mean what I’m saying. I know how special you are and I would be a complete idiot if I didn’t listen to you seriously right now and do something to change how you’re feeling. I’m not willing to lose you. It can’t happen.”

“I don’t know what to say..thank you baby. I thought this was just going to be another big fight.”

“Absolutely not. I’m never going to fight and argue with you about something this serious. I never want to hear you sound so broken and sad because of me ever again.”

“I love you.” I said laying back down on the bed with him.

“I love you more.” he said kissing me again. “You’ll see baby. I’m going to turn this around.”

#hockey #hockey imagines #flames #calgary flames #tkachuk #matthew tkachuk

[isisisak]

Is Even sleeping tonight?🤗

also from nessauepa: What Even likes most about Isak? - i took the liberty to combine these two 

Even sighs and turnson his side to look at Isak. His breathing comes slow and deep and… Even’s not jealousthat Isak fell asleep easily. After that stressful day of tearing through hisflashcards Isak deserves all the rest he can get.

But Even can’t sleep.

And it’s fine, heis fine. But a small part of him still wishes Isak to be awake right now too,to prevent Even from getting annoyed with his head.

He’s been listening tothis new podcast lately that’s all about finding the positive angle and aboutnot beating yourself up if you can’t reach sleep. It’s a little pretentious ifhe’s honest, but the woman means well.

There is this one exercisewhere you’re supposed to list things you like to get in a better mindset.

Tilting his head in alazy attempt of a shrug Even decides he might as well give it a go.

Things he likes. Hmmm.

Even reaches out to lifttheir duvet further over Isak’s naked back. He’s laying sprawled out on hisstomach, head turned to face Even – in that way where Even’s never really sureif this isn’t gonna cause massive neck pain – and takes up most of their bed.

One corner of Even’smouth lifts. 

That’s definitely something he likes. That dead starfish position Isak sleepsin. Slowly conquering every last centimeter of the bed. He won’t even stop whenhe encounters Even! Sometimes Even wakesup after dreaming about being crushed by a giant fish – who knows, honestly –just to find Isak laying diagonally on him.

As if to prove hispoint Isak’s breathing hitches and he reaches his arm out further toward Even, creatingthe tiniest bit of contact; one knuckle resting against Even’s chest.

Another thing Evenlikes. Or Two things, really.

One being the waytheir bed sounds when Isak moves in his sleep. This cozy rustling of theirsheets. Even bunches the fabric a couple of times in his fist to replicate it.

He could make a ASMRvideo with it. Maybe he should tell Elias – the only remaining member of the HeiBriskeby crew – to try this one for his youtube channel. Then again, Elias isn’treally the best person to make silent ASMR videos… Anyway. The otherthing he likes is having skin to skin contact with Isak.

He likes how theirbodies seem to find each other when they’re both sleeping. Waking up in atangled mess of limbs most of the time.  

Even yawns. Huh. Maybethis works after all.

To be fair it’s less awhat he likes list and more a what he likes about Isak list but- if it works,who is he to tell himself no.

Other things he likesabout Isak… His lashes come to mind, with the way they’re fanning against hischeekbones right now. But Even moves on quickly, since he doesn’t thinklingering on what he likes about Isak’s looks will really aid him in findingsleep.

How funny Isak is.That’s another one. Also how funny he thinks he is when he’s really not.

A chuckle makes Even shakeonce – and Isak stir – when he remembers how Isak told him a story over dinner.His whole face had been scrunched up with how much he laughed, huge gulps ofair in between the sentences to keep going.

Even can’t reallyremember the punchline, or if there even was one. He just remembers how much hehimself had laughed because it was so infectious when Isak had fun.

Also that sweet dumblaugh Isak did. Just. The opposite of melodic but the best sound in the world.

Even sighs again. Restinga hand on Isak’s waist over the covers, then letting it continue on to his backas he shuffles closer.

He also really likeshow in love with Isak he still is. It’s been… almost three years. Even blinks. Thatnumber feels so… off. It’s both way too little for how solid they feel. It feelslike at least seven years should’ve gone by. At the same time it feels likethese years flew by though.

Another yawn. Even feelshis eyes grow heavier. This might actually work. He needs to remember to tellIsak about it in the morning. Maybe not about his list, but that this works.

Even smiles widelywhile he gives up and lets his eyes fall shut. Isak was so annoyed by the womanfrom the podcast.

“She has one ofthose esoteric voices. Ugh, so irritating!”

Yeah, that too. Isak’seyerolls and temper and dramatically long rants. A grouchy kitten (Even will definitelynot tell Isak about this point on the list).

After Even goes througha few more points – how Isak played with their neighbors kid the other day, whata good friend he is, how he cares for Even in this unassuming way that neverfeels like pressure, how he pays attention and tries to learn every time he isn’tfamiliar with something, like how he watches attentively every time Even cooks –which pays off considering Even’s still contently full from the lasagna Isak preparedtonight.

During these pointsthey must’ve moved closer. Maybe he did, maybe the dead starfish beside himdid. Either way, Even’s nose was currently pressed against Isak’s shoulder, hiseyes remaining shut.

The last point he addsto his list is that he likes Isak’s familiar smell before he driftsoff to sleep.  

#im very sorry if there are a billion typos #i tried rereading it but yknow TIRED #im also sorry this took forever #pls know that i love every prompt thing i get but there are prompts in my inbox that ...oh my gawd are older than 1 year so you know.... #all things considered this came p quicky #idek what my point is anyway im tired so ill stop rambling now this will only get worse otherwise #i hope you like it! #nessauepa #isak valtersen #even bech naeshiem #evak #skam #isi's hcs

[the-gedonelune-times]

Thank You

Just as the title states, this is a Christmas/Solmare appreciation and thank you. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to try and do for this year’s anniversary. The only thing I could think of was a short story starring the wonderful characters that Solmare has given us. Those who have routes and those who don’t. (This story will be a reader insert, which was a bit hard for me because I think this is the first time I’ve written a reader-insert story, so I really hope I’ve done it justice.)

I know that right now, there’s quite a bit going on in the fandom, including some negativity regarding some of the new changes. The least I could try to do is try and write a thank you story and hopefully spread some smiles and positivity, because honestly? This game, as cheesy as it sounds, it probably the only reason why I’m even writing today. It gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pursuing my passion. So Solmare, thank you, thank you for releasing a game which has filled my life was joy and has kept the flame of passion alive in my heart.

"Clipboard...pen...shoot, where did I leave those papers at?"

While taking note of all the items I was needing for today, I realized that I was missing something important. A stack of papers with a list that was created just for today. I clipped the paper to the clipboard and began reading its contents, crossing out things on the list that were either completed or had been changed. As I did that I heard a tapping at the prefect office's window; fearing the worst, I carefully put down my stuff and made my way over to the window, pulling back the curtains and opening the window which revealed quite the sight.

"An owl?"

"Not just any owl, he's my familiar! Where are you?!"

"What do you mean 'where am I'? I'm here at the prefect office. I told you and the others that last night at the meeting."

"Yes, well, we could really use some more help over here. We're a little behind schedule over here."

"Why, what's going on?"

"We're having some issues with the decorations. Everyone has their hands full with all of the other tasks given to them."

Suddenly I heard a crash coming from Elias's familiar, followed by Elias' screams.

"Luca! Be more careful with those ornaments!"

"Sorry boss."

"Elias, we have a problem..." Alfonse's vice entered next

"What is it?"

"Felix is stuck in the massive tree we got."

"He what? How did this happen!?"

"Well...it's partially my fault, we were talking about the different kinds of trees and another student came along and accidentally cut one of the ropes binding the branches while we weren't paying attention. Now he's stuck somewhere in the branches with a lot of tree sap."

"You've got to be kidding me.."

"Um, guys?"

"Hey! Good to hear your voice!"

"Wait! Have you been listening this entire time?!"

"....yes."

"Ugh! Then hurry down here and help us! Oh and cut the call familiar!"

There was a sound of static and the owl began fluffing its feathers before leaping off the branch and then flying off into the blue sky. Meanwhile, I closed the window and moved the curtains back into place before grabbing my things and leaving the office.

I was checking my list once more the moment I reached the auditorium entrance, only to find my ears filled with screaming and people frantically running around. My eyes widened as I looked at the scene before me.

"Thank goodness you're here."

Elias ran up to my side, clearly out of breath.

"You weren't kidding when you said we were behind schedule." I sighed. "Okay, so give me a rundown on everything. What areas need the most help?"

"Decorations, including the ornaments -- speaking of which, Luca ended up breaking a few because of his carelessness. So Azusa, Leon and a couple of others are helping to make new ones."

"Alright, ornaments...tree..." I began jotting down on the paper. "Okay, so what about the lights?"

"Joel and Rex said that they have that all covered. They took a few students from the music club with them to help prepare."

"And the food and drinks?"

"Hisoka, Willem, Hugo, Vain and Yukiya are in charge of that."

"Vain's helping with cooking?"

"More like he's helping to keep Hiro, Zeus, and Ted away from eating everything, even though they're supposed to be helping set up the tables and chairs with me, Gray, Cerim, Lucious, Guy, and Caesar."

"Okay, I'm making a note of that, that way they can get an earful later." Once I was done writing, I clicked my pen and then put it into my pocket. "Alright, I'll go ahead and start making my rounds. If there's something else that comes up, send me a magic note."

"Will do."

Elias and I parted in two separate directions, with him going to go check on the setup and me, heading over to where the Christmas tree accident had occurred. By the time I got there, Alfonse was helping Felix brush the pine needles out of his hair, while Mel gazed at the tree, almost as if he was analyzing it.

"Hey everyone."

"Hey! Glad you could show up!" Alfonse beamed "As you can see, we're in a bit of a sticky situation at the moment."

"Can you please stop making puns of my predicament. At this rate, I'm going to be smelling like one of those scented pine cone air fresheners I hear about."

"But at least you'll smell like Christmas."

Felix grumbled something under his breath and then sighed.

"Anyways." Alfonse picked out a couple of more pine needles before tossing them into the small bowl he had right beside of him. "You're all done."

"Thank you, now can we please hurry this along so I can go and change into something a little cleaner."

"Right. Hey, Mel, we're going to be decorating the tree now, are you going to be helping us."

"That sounds like such a chore..."

Mel spoke nonchalantly before walking away.

"That human is one of the strangest that I've met so far."

"Mel just moves at his own pace and on his own agenda."

"Alfonse is right." I chuckled. "Mel has always been like that though. He'll probably show back up sooner or later and help out. But until then, I'm here to help out as much as I can."

I watched Alfonse and Felix give an appreciative smile my way before they began rummaging in the boxes, grabbing out multiple strands of lights.

"Now the real question is how are we going to get all of these things on there?"

"Simple, we'll use magic."

"For the whole tree? I can only imagine how tiring that will be."

"Tiring for you, but for me it'll be a piece of cake."

I watched as Felix put down the strand of lights on the ground before holding his hand in the air, waving it back and forth gently, which created rings of wind to wrap around each layer of branches on the tree.

"We'll drop the lights and that shiny stuff here and it'll travel up, wrapping itself in the proper place. Think of it as an upwards slide."

"That's incredible!"

Laughing, I took the strand of lights that Felix had put down and dropped it into the stream of air, watching it swirl and wrap around the tree. Alfonse followed suit and dropped his strand in there as well and before we knew it all the lights were on the tree. Then came the tinsel and when that was done, we reached for the ornament boxes.

"I'm not sure how well this is going to work for the ornaments."

"Perhaps I should change the current stream of air?"

"Or you could use our invention!"

A couple of new voices chimed from behind; it was Lars and Randy, each of them held a strange contraption in their hands.

"Hey you two, weren't you guys helping with the decorations for the tables and such?"

"We were."

"But we finished already."

"S-Seriously? That quick?!"

"Yep! With the help of our new invention."

"We call it...THE DECORATOR-INATOR 3000!"

Lars and Randy both shouted out with glee while holding up their inventions triumphantly above their heads.

"I keep thinking humans can't get any weirder and each time I'm proven wrong..."

"Hey, we're not weird. We're what you call...eccentric! Besides, after you see the power these things have, you'll be thanking us." Lars grinned.

"Shall we show them, Lars?"

"With pleasure, Randy."

The two of them began loading the water gun looking objects with ornaments before pointing and firing them at different parts of tree. Within just mere minutes, the tree was covered in ornaments, except for a few places that would later be filled in with the ornaments that Azusa, Leon and the others were making.

"Lars, Randy, that was amazing!"

"Haha, thank you!"

Lars and Randy took a bow and as they did, a small butterfly-shaped note came flying in my direction, landing in the palm of my hand. As I opened it and began reading the contents, I could feel the color drain from my face. It was from Elias and it looked like Vain was currently in a fistfight with one of the three hungry beasts, as he called them.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

"What is it?"

"I'll see you guys in a little bit, there's some things that are needing my attention."

I left the area as fast as I could, bolting right for the place where Willem and the others would be setting up. There I saw Vain with Ted in a headlock while Hugo was keeping Zeus and Hiro at bay with his magic, allowing Hisoka and the others to begin moving the food to their proper places.

"Zeus, Hiro, Ted! What is the meaning for all of this!?"

My voice boomed loudly, drawing the attention of not only them but others in the surrounding area as well.

"Hey, stay out of this."

"Yeah, they're denying us food and now they're attacking us."

Ted's words almost mumbled as he struggled against Vain's strength.

I sat my clipboard down and then proceeded to take a deep breath before shouting out as loudly as I could, sending a wave of primitive magic their way. Vain, Zeus, Ted and Hiro all staggered back a little bit, before looking at me.

"Good. Now that I have your attention, let me start by stating that you three." I pointed at Zeus, Hiro and Ted. "Were supposed to be helping unload the tables and chairs for Elias' team for setup. Instead, I hear about you all goofing off! So here's what's going to happen. All of you are going to go to your original positions, or I'll never make food for you ever again."

"But..!"

"Are you serious?!"

"Yes, I'm serious. Now go."

I watched as Zeus and Hiro left, once they did Vain let go of his grasp on Ted before looking at me.

"Nice one little bunny."

I rolled my eyes at his remark and reached out to my clipboard when a new voice called out.

"Nice one indeed."

"Viggo? What are you doing here?"

"I heard that the meathead and his little band of misfits had gotten themselves in a bit of a pickle. So I came out to check it out, sure enough, there was quite the show going down, one that I thoroughly enjoyed."

"There was nothing enjoyable about that at all." Hugo spoke up while glaring at Viggo. "How about making yourself useful and helping us next time with those idiots since you think you're such a tough guy."

I heard a scoff come from Vain as Viggo looked at Hugo with disbelief.

"Tsk. I got other things to do than help you guys."

Without another word, Viggo took out his pipe and disappeared within the smoke.

"So much for that. How about you guys?" I turned to look at the others. "Are you guys doing alright?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine as long as those fools don't come back again."

I sighed. "They always do this at any occasion. When they hear that there's going to be food, it's like they have feral instincts that kick in."

"Well, if they try it again, then I can't make any promises on their well-being."

"V-Vain..."

"Don't mind him." Hugo walked up to me. "He's probably grumpy that he has to actually do work for this event and not go and pick on Felix and Willem."

"Speaking of which...he..he hasn't tried to do anything to Willem, has he?"

"No. Not yet. I'm keeping him in line right now." Hugo smiled. "Point is, we'll be alright, thanks for helping out."

"Oh hey! Hugo?"

"Yeah?"

"What made you want to come out and help us?"

I watched as Hugo's face turned a light shade of red. "I didn't have anything better to do."

With that, Hugo briskly walked away, joining up with the others. Meanwhile, I took a look around and smiled. Everything was going smoothly now. The tree was set, the food was being set up and I was sure that Elias' team had probably set all the tables and chairs up as well. All that was left were the lights that were supposed to be hung up around the ceiling. That was supposed to be Rex and Joel's jobs, but I hadn't seen them at all yet.

"Hey, Elias?" I had just walked over to where Elias was at the great progress they had made.

"Oh, hey, what is it?"

"Have you seen Rex and Joel? I haven't seen or heard from them at all yet and I'm beginning to get a little worried."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling the same way."

"So you haven't heard from them either then?"

"Nope, not since they left with a couple of others. They said they had something planned for us. "

"I hope they show up soon..."

"Hey, it'll be alright. How about we take a breather. You've been working yourself pretty hard. Bouncing back and forth from station to station to help and even keep the peace."

"I don't know..."

I watched as Elias pulled a chair out and gestured for me to take a seat. I took up his offer after pondering for what seemed like an eternity. Elias then pulled out the chair next to me and took a seat.

"So, I never asked this before, but why in the world did you decide to come up with and organize this whole thing?"

"I got the idea after I heard some students talking. They said they couldn't go home for holidays for their own personal reasons. So, I decided to come up with a plan to host a big Christmas party here at the Academy for all the students that are staying here. That way they don't feel alone during the holidays. When brought it up to Schuyler, the idea was almost immediately accepted. But, I had to make sure that everything would fit the Academy rules and would be cleaned up and in tip-top shape afterward."

"I see. That's rather a thoughtful thing to do."

"You know what surprised me the most though?"

"What?"

I smiled and leaned back into my chair.

"I'm surprised that all of you have come together to help me out with this. I mean, you and Alfonse could have gone home already for the holidays."

"We both wanted to help you out first before going back home. For the last five years, we've all had Christmas together. I suppose it's become such a common thing that the thought of not having a Christmas spent you and the other would be...weird."

"I feel the same way."

Elias and I chatted for a little while longer before a magic note had landed on the table right in front of Elias. I watched his face as he read it and watched as he raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?"

"Well...yes and no." Elias then handed me the magic note and I began to look over the contents. "It looks like Joel and Rex teamed up with Nox and Clive and they'll be unveiling the lights later on when the sun goes down."

I put down the letter and sighed. "Let's hope they'll be there or the lighting ceremony won't go according to plan."

"Even if it doesn't, everything will be alright. We'll bounce back from it."

I smiled. "You're right."

Minutes blew by and soon a couple of hours passed before Joel and his team returned back to us. Other students had gathered at the Auditorium by this point, all were engaged in chatter or dancing to the music that was being played through speaker magic. Even Klaus, Vincent and Glenn were engaged in chatter while taking drinks of their punch. Everyone seemed to be in such a good mood that it brought a smile to lips. That's when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"We're ready to go whenever you want to gather everyone up."

"Awesome! Hey, everyone!" I grabbed my wand and recited an incantation which was followed up with a puff of pink smoke. "Hello? Testing one, two, three."

Everyone began gathering around after I had cast my own speaker magic.

"Alright everyone, it's with great joy that I announce that the lighting ceremony for this year's party is about to begin!"

Applause filled the room and I stepped out of the way for Joel and the other to take their place. Suddenly, there was a spotlight of light magic coming from a few students who held their wands up high, shining down on Joel and Rex. Rex had a portable keyboard that he had set up and was now beginning to play. His fingers moved gracefully over each key as each cheery note filled the room which soon followed by Joel's sweet soothing voice.

He matched the same key that Rex was playing in and timed every single one of his notes to the keyboard. As the music began to reach its peak, so did Joel's singing which began to send orbs of light soaring through the room like shooting stars through a beautiful night sky. Gasps filled the room as some of the lights which hovered like small little lanterns, while the others shot out towards the tree, lighting it up instantly.

There was a roar of applause and clapping when the music died down. Joel was practically breathless as he walked down from the small stage that had been set up. Afterward, people resumed their normal conversations. I had just scooped out a bit of punch into my cup when I looked out at the scene before me. Smiles could be seen and laughter could be heard filling up the room.

"Thank you...for another wonderful year." I smiled. "and to many more.."

I lifted the cup to my lips and took a sip before heading over to the center of the room to converse with everyone. I was beyond happy to have made it another year with the ones I loved the most and I hoped that the future was filled with more fun-filled years just like these.

#wizardess heart #solmare appreciation #christmas story #elias goldstein #luca orlem #zeus brundle #lars lagrene #randy march #alfonse goldstein #felix wh #hiro tachibana #vain peers #hugo peers #viggo wh #joel crawford #rex blanc #everyone pretty much shows up

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

Can you write something about Niccoli being depressed/ having an episode and boys trying to make him feel better?

He doesn't even know how it started.

Well, he has been feeling low for a couple of days could barely get out of bed to eat something and shower but... It has happened before, and it has always helped to have Martino with him. Not lately.

Usually he blames the weather - it's worse when outside it's all dark and rainy - but he can't even have that, now. There isn't a cloud in the sky, as he looks out the window. It adds insult to injury, as if there was some kind of higher power telling him 'How can you feel so unhappy, when the sun is shining and everything is fine out there?'

Rationally, he knows that it must have something to do with the exams fast approaching in June but it has never been so bad.

He is fucking tired of being told "Stop worrying about the future."

It’s not something he does on purpose, and it’s always too late when he realizes that his mind drifted where it wasn't allowed to.

Does Martino know how exhausting it is to persuade himself that his fears have no reason to exist?

How dumb his inability to take things as they come, minute by minute, makes him feel?

Sooner or later, he will have to choose what to do with this life. Postponing the decision doesn’t make it disappear. It’s always there, at the back of his mind. With all its potential downfalls.

He hasn’t even brought up the topic of moving to Milan, because he dreads both a positive (‘so you can’t wait for me to leave, uh?) and a negative reaction (it’s my future we’re talking about, stop making it about you!’) from Marti.

He can’t see himself living in Rome for another year, but he can't be without Martino.

That's absurd. It's not healthy to be so co-dependent on someone. He needs to learn how to survive without him. Besides, Martino deserves better than dating a nutjob that keeps on dragging him down, with his weird moods and paranoid fears of being abandoned. And it doesn't matter how many times he will tell Nico that he isn't going anywhere. Eventually, he will walk away. Niccolò will do something to fuck this up, like he always does.

Martino will get tired of having to talk sense into him, of his love being doubted and put to test all the fucking time. Of fighting about money, of telling him that he can pay for himself and doesn’t need Niccolò to cover all his expenses.

He will soon understand that they don’t have much in common, that they rarely listen to the same music or appreciate the same movies, books or tv shows. That they don’t even work that well as friends.

He can’t have Marti here, when he’s clearly not taking proper care of himself. Studying when he should be sleeping, eating too little, because babysitting Niccolò is a full time job.

It makes everything worse.

He hates that Martino turn down invitations from the boys just to spend time with him. Hates himself for letting that happen.

"Why don't you just go? Get lost. Stop wasting your time with a depressed fuck like me, Marti! There’s nothing you can do…”

It's a low blow, and he knows it. He regret those words as soon as they are out of his mouth, but it’s too late to take them back. Those are the very same words Martino in that bathroom, all those months ago, when he talked about his own mother. They are like a slap to his face, but Marti still refuses to back down.

“I was wrong, and you know it. Nico, please. Don’t shut me out.”

And he wants to open the door and surrender to his soft touch, to break down in his arms. Put his mind to rest for a while. But he can’t be that selfish.

“Go. I’m begging you, Marti. Leave.” He bites back his tears, holding tighter onto his pillow.

"As you wish." Martino chokes out, defeated, walking away.

*********************

Martino is persistent, and stubborn.

It's both a blessing and a curse.

He's glad to know that he cares, that he won't give up on him when things get tough. That he can sense when Niccolò is self-sabotaging himself and he won't have any of that.

It's a painful reminder of how little Nico is giving back, how he should be the better man and let Marti find someone who can hand him the world.

He keeps trying to reach out to him, with a few 'hey, call me when you feel better' and a 'thinking about you

'I know you’re trying, but... you're not helping.' He texts back, resorting to half-truths.

It works, but it doesn’t take too long before he starts to regret it.

It has been barely more than 24 hours since he last got a text from Martino, but it feels like a week.'Well done, Niccolò. You drove him away. Mission accomplished.'He mutters to himself, throwing the phone against the wall so violently that its pieces go flying all over the room.

***********************

Giovanni is the first to show up. He doesn’t ask about their fight, doesn’t even mention Martino.

He sits in front of the door and starts making small talk, telling him about the last movie he has seen and the book he’s reading at the moment.

“I never thought I would like Nick Hornby, you know, but then Eva got Slam for me, because you know, she figured it was about skateboarding… it isn’t, but that’s okay, it’s good… and I actually liked it so much I went looking for more. I bet you’d love Juliet, naked. It’s about music, but it’s nowhere as pretentious as High Fidelity is. It’s a book against pretentiousness when it comes to art, really. I have it here, with me, if you want to give it a try.”

Niccolò doesn’t contribute much to the conversation, but Giovanni doesn’t seem to mind.

He moves on to the latest news from school, about Luchino and how disappointed he was to find out there are plenty of girls crushing on Gio and Elia but none interested in him.

“Can you believe he handed out an anonymous survey?”

“Well. It’s Luca we’re talking about…” They both laugh at that, and Niccolò finally feels comfortable enough to ask if Martino asked him to come and check on him.

“No, zi’… He didn’t have to. I am here for you, is that so hard to believe?” Yes. Yes, it is. “And I’m not leaving until you read this and tell me what you think about this.” He waves his latest essay in front of the yellow tinted glass. He’s just about to try sliding it under the door, when Niccolò finally gives up and lets him in.

“Wow, you look like you haven't slept in a week.”

“Thanks.” He looks up, only to feel crushed by the weight of Giovanni’s concerned glare. How can he be calm, so composed, when Niccolò just broke his best friend’s heart again? “Would you like some coffee, while I read this?”

It’s good. Nico doesn’t agree with half of the things he wrote, but Gio knows how to make a compelling argument and make him go ‘Okay, you have a point there.” His essay is informative, never patronizing or sounding like the same old propaganda. It’s hard to believe he didn’t get a 10 for it. ‘8 for overuse of semi-colons, inconsistencies in style and voice.’

Bullshit. Galante couldn’t give mark that essay with a 10 because he couldn’t stand to read opinions different from his own, couldn’t have students thinking they should pursue writing as a career only to end up like him, teaching Italian literature to a bunch of idiots who couldn’t tell the difference between a metaphor and a metonymy.

“Ha! They keep telling me I’m projecting, that I’m the teacher’s pet but I knew you’d understand! He is lenient with those who can barely write down a coherent and grammatically correct thought, but God forbid if he actually acknowledges excellence! Not that I’m that good, but…”

Hey, hey, hey. No self-deprecation allowed in this room, unless it’s coming from Niccolò himself.

“You are. I mean, I’m no literary critic but I think you’re great. This is great.”

“Says Mr. 9/10.”

“I’m no better than you, I just mastered the art of telling people what they want to hear.”

“Ever thought about getting into politics?”

*******************************

It’s Elia, next.

He doesn’t even knock, just walks in to tell him that he’s gonna cook him something because he looks like death warmed over.

It doesn’t matter if he’s not hungry, at the moment. He can save the food for later, and learn an invaluable life skill in the process.

“I can’t believe you’re losing your shit over moving to Milan, in a couple of months. I mean, if you are afraid you’re not gonna survive due to your non-existent culinary abilities, which is understandable, I am here to help.”

He isn’t bothered at all by Niccolò’s apparent lethargy and lack of focus, he shows him the ropes and then lets him take his time. He slaps his nape when he gets something wrong, but then he smiles at him and helps him fix his mistake. Encourages him to start all over from scratch, if needed.

So what if it takes them hours to bake a quiche, to make an omelette or a tiramisu? It’s not like they’ve got better things to do.

Elia talks much less than one would expect, content to spend an entire afternoon just giving out orders and tips to Nico. Fishing for some advice on how to improve his chances to get laid, by the time they are putting the tiramisu in the fridge.

“Take them somewhere romantic. Cook them a fancy meal. Show them that you never take them for granted and think about the two of you together whenever you are apart.” He has never been one for meaningless one-night stands, and it shows.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure that worked like magic with Martino.” Elia sighs, ruffling Nico’s hair. “But I’m interested in making them fall in love with me… I’m trying to get into their pants, here, man.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, then.” He shrugs, grinning when Elia flops dramatically into the sofa and demands a FIFA match. If he assumes him to be worse than Luchino, at this game… Well, he’s in for quite the surprise.

“Well, of course. I don’t know what I expected from someone who can take their shirt off and have people falling over him.”

“Maybe you could come to the gym with me, next time?”

 ***************************************

Luca storms into his room, with a bag full of junk food and a USB in his hand.

“I don’t know what you’re into, so I’m just sharing my favourite ones…” Of course, he would come bringing porn as a gift.

He’s got no filter, so he doesn’t shy away from a topic just because it would be inappropriate to ask Niccolò if he’s got a food kink – no, because there’s a lady on Twitter that could fit an apple in her ass and that got him wondering how does it feel… - and looks a bit disappointed when Nico moves on to another topic without giving him a proper answer.

It’s probably the first time he found someone willing to hear him out, because he can’t shut up for a second. Mooning over Slivia, moaning about his 4 in Physics - “I know you’re gonna tell me that being held back a year isn’t the end of the world, but… My mom is going to kill me, if I fail” – complaining about his little brother and the lack of a girlfriend.

Niccolò finds it invigorating, to finally have a friend who’s like ‘I’m telling you how pathetic my life is and if you wanna share your woes you’re more than welcome to. If you don’t, I can talk for both of us. We’re not here to compare who’s got it worse.’

When Niccolò think he’s done, that he’s run out of things to say… Luca recalls the last time his mother almost caught him and Martino smoking weed and he had to hand him the joint and hide him under his bed. Only for his mother to say ‘Say hi to Martino for me’ before she left.

“Now she thinks I’m dating him, but that I feel too uncomfortable to come out and she’s dropping hints about how she wouldn’t love me or my brother any less if we were into boys… And I can’t bring myself to tell her the truth… But yeah, I’m glad you find this entertaining.” He huffs, but the smile on his lips tell a different story: he’s quite proud of himself, for making him laugh.

He’s the first not to tiptoe around Marti, to say be brave enough to say “You’re miserable. He’s miserable, so why don’t you both apologize to each other and get it over with?”

“It’s not that simple, Luchì.”

“Yes it is. Now give me your phone.”

#skam italia #nicotino #rames #my writing #giovanni garau #elia santini #luca colosio