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misshoneyimhome · 6 months

Text

Struck by Lighting

Tags; Angry!William; Friends-to-lovers; bestfriend!TimothyLiljegren; Fluff

Summary: In the midst of a difficult game, William appears to lose his composure, suggesting more than just frustration over a bad loss;

Author's Note: I wrote this a little while ago and just decided to share it today 😉 It follows the familiar friends-to-lovers plot, yet a little different, you know? 😅 Nonetheless, I hope you'll find it enjoyable;

By the way, a quick thank you to everyone reading my work! I never imagined anyone would enjoy what I write, and I'm incredibly grateful to be able to share my thoughts and ideas with all of you! Having 1️⃣0️⃣0️⃣ followers might not seem like a lot to some, but to me, it's beyond anything I could have imagined 🫶🏻

[credits: inspired by a scene from Ted Lasso]

Word count: 3.4K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

The atmosphere was crisp as the five of you strolled through the streets of Toronto on a regular Friday evening.

The lad's hockey season had started just a month ago, and tonight, you were out with your group of friends: William Nylander, Timothy Liljegren, Pierre Engvall, along with his girlfriend Mathilda. Yet, this evening wasn't solely about the five of you chilling together; it was also a chance for Willy to introduce his new romantic interest to the tight-knit group. Being his close friends, he valued your opinion on this matter.

William had become, quite unexpectedly, one of your closest friends. It was something you hadn't quite anticipated from the day you were introduced to the inner circle of the Toronto Maple Leafs – particularly the inner circle of the Swedes.

Morgan had been your entry point, having known him back in Vancouver, and upon your move to Toronto, he graciously showed you around, and after a few months, he introduced you to his team. It was a bit surreal to suddenly find yourself among friends and partners of an NHL team, but undeniably, you felt like you belonged.

The entire team had been incredibly kind and welcoming. You hit it off particularly well with most of them. Auston and Mitchy were an absolute riot, always incredibly funny. Woll, alongside Mo, was among the kindest individuals you'd ever encountered. Tavares was the living legend, and the new guy, Knies – those eyes and that smirk – had a way of making anyone feel weak in the knees.

Everyone treated you kindly, but you could also sense a closer bond among the Swedes. It wasn't something frowned upon by the guys; in fact, it seemed this group genuinely encouraged everyone to become more open and mingle better with the rest of the team. Timothy, in particular, stood out as a genuine sweetheart, perhaps a tad less outgoing than the others.

And it was Tim that was the one who paved the way for you to join the Scandinavian friends' circle. You were consistently kind to him, offering help whenever needed, and being there to support him if he ever felt anxious. It all began with a simple, clumsy mishap in the hallways where he had lost his things, and you swiftly lent a hand. From there, it blossomed into casual conversations about various topics. And soon enough, you found yourself getting him a coffee, guiding him through breathing exercises before facing cameras, and keeping him company after tough losses.

And your efforts had earned you a cherished place in the hearts of the Swedes.

William, on the other hand, was a different story. He had to grow on you.

At first, you genuinely found him rather off-putting. With that way too satisfied, smug smirk on his face all the time, the way he knew all too well how good he was at hockey, and how he so effortlessly just sashayed onto the ice, scored a couple of goals, and became the hero of the day.

However, as time passed and you spent more moments with Tim's friends, you gradually peeled back the layers of William Nylander beyond the dazzling performances and mischievous grins. The more you hung around him, the clearer it became that it wasn't an act; it was simply his natural way of being - in a good way.

After each match, road trip, and workout session, you began to grasp the immense effort he invested in his training. How he'd show up early, stay late for workouts, constantly study technique videos, and engage in discussions with his father about his game.

You witnessed the sheer amount of energy required to uphold his positive mindset. In fact, it amazed you how he managed to stay so rooted and composed, even after a tough loss or demanding day filled with media responsibilities. And what struck you even more was his indifference to the attention and accolades he received; his primary focus remained on playing the sport he adored, striving to perform his best, and feeling proud of his achievements. He aimed high and held himself accountable to those lofty expectations and goals he'd set.

He simply impressed you.

On William's end, he hadn't given much thought to you initially. You were there, seemed nice, and that was about it. He wasn't one to dwell on things, so as he noticed your genuine friendship with his close friends, he didn't really have any negative opinions about you.

But much like he grew on you, you gradually made an impression on him. At first, he didn't pay much attention to you. But as you integrated further into the group, he began to notice your playful nature, your sense of humour, and the banter that developed among the lads. What initially elicited a light chuckle soon evolved into hearty laughter, echoing through the halls of the Scotiabank Arena after almost every home game, and Willy found himself thoroughly enjoying it.

Yet, beyond the good times, the real turning point occurred when William allowed you to see his more vulnerable side.

It had been a terrible game. For him at least, and he just wasn’t feeling good about it. And while he’d normally remain composed and all calm despite the challenging night, he’d involuntarily spat at his teammates about something regarding the play.

And though there was a mutual understanding among the teammates, that outbursts like these were rather common and no one should take it personally, as it’d all be forgotten the following day, you couldn’t help but stand up to him. He’d said something that was clearly targeted towards Tim, and you were just not having it.

So, after the match as everyone besides William had left, being one of the last ones as always, you’d stayed back just to offer him a quick remark.

“You know you can’t talk to him like that,” you’d spoken in a low voice, yet your words been firm and sharp as you’d confronted him in the hallway on your way out. “He played his heart out and you know it. Everyone made mistakes tonight, even you, and you shouldn’t be saying things like these to him.”

William had been slightly baffled by your words. And though he knew you were right; he didn’t think it was your place to talk back to him like this.

“Timmy’s a grown man, he can take it.” He’d said in response. “He needs to know what he did wrong so he can do better next time.”

In a way you knew he was right too. This was simply the way the boys showed their love and affection for each other as teammates, but you just couldn’t accept the way he’d speak to his close friend.

“I know, Willy. And I know you mean well, it’s just… Tim looks so much up to you, and we all know that you’re an amazing player, who gets a lot of attention, but that doesn’t give you the right to talk down to the others. You’re a team, and you also need to support each other in down times like these.”

And your words had had a way to walk straight to William’s heart. The way you showed so much care for your mutual friend had really opened his eyes for you. You were more than just giggles and funny puns. You were indeed caring and protective of the ones you loved – just like him.

“I’m sorry…” he’d murmured, which had taken you slightly by surprise. You hadn’t expected for him to give in to your confrontation so easily. But the softness in his eyes had given away that he might just feel a little regret of how he’d spoken to the lads, and quickly you found yourself feeling softening your facial expression as well.

Though there’d been no yelling or shouting, you’d unintentionally tightened the muscles in your face, raised your shoulders, as you’d gathered the confident to speak to him. But then as you saw his expression exude a hint of vulnerability and his composure softened, you instead tried to flash him a gentle smile and simply show that this was all about your shared love for a person.

And as concern and frustrations slowly faded away, you both shared smiles and light chuckles. And yet to another surprise, William had suggested for you to grab a late dinner snack, which you’d enjoyed at his place, while talking for hours about pretty much anything.

You’d shared family details, stories from the past, future aspirations, along with casual dating experiences and ups and downs from what had you both still at the single stage.

From that day on, your friendship had become almost closer than yours and Tim’s.

You’d be the one to confront him when he was merely being a brat, just as you were there to shower with love and affection whenever needed.

***

So, as the evening of the triple-“date” (you were there with Tim, though you weren’t romantically involved), was coming to an end, William turned to face you all, mentally preparing for the virduct of his new flirt.

“So, what do you think?” he timidly asked.

“I think she’s sweet,” Mathilda had started out. “She seems kind and nice… friendly and funny, I suppose.”

“Yeah, she’s got a nice laughter, doesn’t seem dum or without ideas,” Pierre had added.

“And she’s attractive.” Tim chimed in with a lightning spirit.

William nodded at the feedback, taking in that everyone seemed to approve of the girl he was becoming interested in.

“Yeah, you could be a good match,” Mathilda spoke once again with her sweet, gentle tone of voice, as she tried to reassure William that he had found someone good. However, as much as you tried to remain composed, you just couldn’t hold it back.

“Oh, come on,” you blurted out. “Tell him the truth.”

The group of friends looked stunned at you as you’d broken the silence, you’d maintain during the walk from the restaurant, earning you to elaborate.

“She’s fine… that’s it,” you spoke gently, before continuing. “Which there’s nothing wrong with. Most people settle for fine. The question is just why the fuck you think she deserves you. I mean, you’re William bloody Nylander – you’re gorgeous, talented, funny, and overall, not too empty headed. Honestly, you deserve someone who makes you feel like you’ve been struck by fucking lightning.”

Your words echoed through the heads of your friends as your bold honesty slowly sank in, and the others couldn’t contain their amusement. In fact, they just smiled and nodded in agreement as William maintained an intense gaze at you.

“Anyway, that’s just my opinion,” you offered a sweet smile, and shrug your shoulders.

And in the evening, William couldn’t help but reflect on your words. It was incredible how you’d always have a talent of speaking so freely and directly to him. And he couldn’t help but deeply appreciate it.

****

A couple of weeks later, the lads were back in Toronto for a home game after a lengthy stretch on the road.

And this time around, it was your turn to spill some news about someone you'd been seeing.

His name was Matt, a few years older than you, working as a chef. He had a kind and sweet nature, and in your view, he was an all-round good guy. Just what you needed after a string of let-downs. Each person you'd dated before had been either completely unfazed or overly dramatic about every little thing. You'd been with all sorts, from the typical sales rep to the cliché sports jock, the soft-spoken preschool teacher, and the imaginative journalist. Yet none of them shared your zest for life and love for outdoor activities or your calm and drama-free outlook on life.

But Matt seemed to be the right fit.

Even your friends' reactions seemed to back it up.

You all shared laughter and excitement during a coffee break - known as "Fika" as the Swedes called it. And soon after, he joined you and Mathilda among the other partners of the team for a home game.

However, the match turned out to be rather awful. The Leafs were trailing 4-0 at the start of the third period, and their gameplay displayed no signs of a potential comeback strategy or strength.

The atmosphere weighed heavy on everyone, evident in the collective sighs as the Senators once again slipped the puck past Woll and into the net. Fans covered their faces in resignation, acknowledging the likely outcome of tonight's game. Equally frustrated were the players, especially when Mitch received a 2-minute penalty for holding, granting the Senators another Power Play opportunity.

The tension only seemed to ratchet up from there.

Then came William; he pushed himself, maintaining a rapid pace, maneuvering around opponents with confidence, controlling the puck as he charged towards the opposite end. He searched for an opening to take a shot, almost finding the perfect opportunity. With an intense focus, he swung his stick high, eyes fixed on the target, aiming and letting loose his shot.

But the puck didn't find its mark.

And a resounding disappointment reverberated throughout the arena.

William, unable to contain his usual composed demeanor, vented his frustrations, taking it out on his stick. He forcefully slammed it against the boards, the rage causing it to snap into two pieces. It seemed like nothing was going right for him tonight.

And your heart sank as you witnessed his outburst.

You'd never seen him this angry or out of character. Typically, he was the one who kept his teammates grounded, but in that moment, he held nothing back.

The game ended with a harsh 7-1 scoreline, and while Auston managed to net a goal, it did little to lift the spirits of the team.

One by one, they departed from the arena after their showers and media commitments. Partners took their hands, quietly making their way towards the exit, understanding that the night ahead would be spent in quietness at home, focused on care and relaxation, as the lads mentally geared up for the next match.

Finding yourself among the last few standing, you exchanged concerned glances with Tim and Pierre, aware that Willy was likely still in the locker room, possibly berating himself.

Offering a reassuring nod to their unspoken worry, you turned to Matt.

"I'll go check on him. This isn't like Willy, and I just want to make sure he's alright," you said to him.

He gave you an understanding smile as you slowly walked towards the locker room.

Inside, you found William, seated in his stall with his head bowed, almost completely removing his gear. His body still gleamed from post-match sweat, hair damp and sticking to the sides of his face.

With cautious steps, you approached him, prompting him to glance up.

"Hey," you said in a hushed tone.

You knew how hard he was on himself after such games. There was no need to vocalize it. But you wanted to convey unwavering support to your friend, so you attempted to offer your best, concerned, and caring smile.

"Hey," he replied, his tone subdued.

There fell a brief silence between you two.

"Alright?" you asked gently.

"Yeah, sure..." he shrugged, his voice lacking its usual spark.

But you knew him too well.

"Babe, I know it might not mean much, but tonight wasn't your fault," you offered in an attempt to console him.

"I know," he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Really? Because it seems like you're shouldering blame that isn't yours to carry," you ventured further, aware you were nearing sensitive ground. Yet, seeing him like this hurt, and you couldn't hold back your concern.

"I said I know, y/n," he replied firmly, his tone indicating an end to the discussion. "You don't need to keep digging.”

"I'm sorry. I just want to ensure you're not getting lost in self-pity. This was a team effort, and you all had a tough night," you persisted, trying to express your worries.

"And what do you know about that, huh?" he suddenly snapped, rising to his feet.

William was completely unlike his composed self. He was on edge, filled with an anger so unlike him. And it startled you.

"I don't..." you attempted to speak. "I'm just worried... Willy, I've never seen you like this before, and I just want to make sure you're okay," your voice quivered, conveying your genuine concern.

"Well, I'm not okay!" he burst out.

Never before had William raised his voice at you like this, not even following a devastating game. Something deeper seemed to be at play here than just the outcome of a hockey match.

"Then please, let me help you..." you urged, hoping to diffuse the tension.

"You can’t,” he retorted.

"Why not?" confusion laced your words.

"Because it's you I'm pissed at," he declared.

You were taken aback. He was angry with you?

“Why? What have I done to piss you off like this?” you questioned, bewildered by his accusation.

William struggled to steady his breath, trying to contain the fury coursing through him. Slightly lowering his voice to a more controlled but still assertive level, he continued.

"You always tell us that we deserve someone who makes us feel like we've been struck by lightning... yet you're with a dull, ordinary guy who isn't even close to your league, and you expect me to believe that he makes you happy?"

Wait, what?

"It that with this is all about… you playing a shitty game because I'm seeing someone you don't approve of?" you expressed disbelief. How dared he?

William exhaled sharply, standing with his hands on his hips.

"That's not… no, we just played a shitty game, we'll get over it," he attempted to gather his thoughts. "I just don't understand why you feel entitled to dictate what the rest of us deserve when you don't hold yourself to the same standard."

You struggled to fully grasp his words.

"What are you trying to say, Willy?"

"Don't you see... you should be with someone... not like him... someone who also makes you feel the way you want the rest of us to feel..."

"Well, I'm sorry, but that just won't happen," you spoke loudly, your mind racing faster than you could rationalize.

"Why not?"

"Because the only person who'd ever made me feel that way is you!"

A heavy silence filled the room as your confession hung in the air.

You were left breathless, realizing you had verbalized something you hadn't even admitted to yourself before. A fleeting thought that had crossed your mind briefly but had never lingered for more than a moment. However, as the words escaped, they felt undeniably true.

And the truth was, you had deep feelings for William.

The laghter and playful banter between you. The affection you both had for your friends and families. How he always showed his genuine self with you, offering a listening ear and a supportive shoulder. You simply liked every part of him.

And as William gradually absorbed the sudden confession, he regained control of his breathing following his emotional outburst. He gazed intently at you, focusing on your worried expression, acknowledging your unintentional heartfelt disclosure.

Yet, he found himself speechless. There were no witty remarks or playful comebacks. He didn't feel compelled to challenge you or demand explanations. Instead, he took a step forward, gently cupping your head with his hands, leaning in to tenderly kiss you.

As your lips met, you couldn't resist, placing your hands on his chest, feeling all frustrations and negativity dissipate from your mind.

Relaxation flooded your body, sinking deeper into his touch. His hands moved down to your hips, drawing you closer, while yours wrapped around his neck.

His tongue delicately sought permission to explore beyond your lips, and you eagerly welcomed the intimacy.

It was an true, heartfelt moment where you both surrendered to desire and passion.

As you parted from the kiss, both breathing in the air that was momentarily lost, smiles couldn't be contained as you stood close.

Being in his arms felt incredibly right, and you wished for that feeling to never end.

However, reality beckoned, so you looked up at him with a gentle smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his handsome face.

"I suppose... I should let Matt know that I can't see him anymore," you chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, he should probably know that you’re already taken,” William replied with a hearty laugh.

#william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #toronto maple leafs interview #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl hockey fic #wn88 imagine

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starrybethany · 4 years

Text

Pierre Engvall: Rewind by Rascal Flatts

Word count: 2331

Music video link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPcASvgb7yg

Lyrics link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LEJRDWJYG8

Wish I could reach up and reset that sun

Reverse these wheels go back and re-pick you up

Went by so fast, oh, so sweet

Make me wanna remake a memory

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were working today,” my co-worker squeals excitedly as I walk into the quaint coffee shop.

“Yeah, my plane landed yesterday,” I inform her, pulling my apron over my head and yanking my hair out of the strap.

“How was Sweden?” She asks.

I know I could tell her so much. I could tell her about the beautiful weather and how my classes were so informative and how the culture is just so amazing.

But I also just want to tell her about one person who made the whole experience perfect.

The one person who could convince me to avoid my responsibilities and stay in that foregin nation for the rest of my life, the person who I could stare at forever without noticing the sun rising or setting.

I could tell her about how he would pick me up from my host family’s house to go to the bar at night in his expensive little convertible and it would make my host dad shake his head and laugh and my host sister smile with jealousy.

Or how he would push me on the swings at the park practically every night and would tell me all about his hockey team in Canada and funny stories about how stupid his teammates are.

“Y/N?”

I snap out of my thoughts, remembering her question. I don’t want to tell her any of those things. I feel like my relationship with Pierre is too personal to spread around- I want to remember him intimately.

“It was good. It was really, really good.”

Wish I had me a time machine

Oh, I float the moon back up in the sky

Put a cork back into that sweet red wine

Put your midnight hair back up

So you can let it fall one more time

“2012.” He squints those brown eyes that I spend too long looking into at the bottle, reading the label.

“You spent $200 on red wine from 2012?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Well it’s from France.”

I laugh at that and he cracks a smile, popping the cork and holding the bottle out as an offering. I hold my glass out towards him, watching as he begins to pour.

“Pierre that’s too much,” I giggle as he pours practically half of the bottle into the glass.

He laughs himself, pulling the bottle away and giving himself half of what he’s given me.

“It’s like you’re trying to get me drunk or something,” I tease.

“Or something,” he repeats, watching as I take a sip. “Can I braid your hair?”

“What?” I ask, confused by the sudden question.

“Can I braid your hair? I’ve just always wanted to try and your hair is so pretty.”

I can tell he’s becoming nervous by my delayed response so I nod, turning so my back is to him. I tug my locks out of it’s loose ponytail and ask, “Do you know how?”

“I can figure it out,” he answers. I can feel him move behind me and the Swedish music he put on to ‘cultivate me’ as he put it, becomes distant as his fingers grip my hair.

I lean back into his hands, closing my eyes and enjoying this moment of the two of us together. I don’t know how many more moments like this I’ll get. I have to leave to go back home in a couple of months and I don’t know if I’ll ever see Pierre after this.

It’s a summer love kind of thing.

His hands move to rest gently on my shoulders as my hair rests down my back.

“It’s not working,” he says in a hushed voice.

I hum in response, just enjoying the feeling of his company in mine. He lets it happen.

Untouch your skin

Unkiss your lips and kiss 'em again

“I used to be obsessed with astrology when I was younger,” I admit, staring up at the stars.

“Do you remember anything?”

“Um,” I point up at the stars and feel Pierre’s burning skin on my own as his hands slide down to grip my waist. “Do you want to know where the stars are or do you just want to fondle me all night?”

“I can do both,” he replies, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. I laugh in response.

“Do you see that bright star, right there? Follow it down and there’s the Big Dipper. And where the Big Dipper is the Little Dipper is.” My eyes scan the sky as Pierre squeezes my waist, mumbling something quietly to himself.

It takes me a while to focus but as soon as I locate the constellation I light up. “To the right and down is the Little Dipper.”

“What about, uh, Halley’s Comet?” He questions, leaving a kiss on the back of my neck.

“Babe, Halley’s Comet comes once every seventy five years,” I tease, turning around in his arms to face him. His arms slither to rest on my lower back loosely and he leans forward, connecting his chapped lips to my own.

I will never get over kissing Pierre. Everytime we kiss it feels like the first time and I could live with that feeling for the rest of my life. He pulls back and smiles at me, brown eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Then he gives me a kiss. And another one. And another one.

So good, so right,

This is one night I'm wishing I could rewind

“I hate to end this,” I mumble into his chest. “But I have class early in the morning so I should probably sleep before then.”

“Or you could just pull an all-nighter,” he suggests, tugging me tighter into him.

I grin. “If I pull an all-nighter you won’t be seeing me tomorrow night.”

“Then let’s get you to bed,” he responds, holding his hands out to help me rise to my feet. Our hands stay interlocked once I’m stable on my feet and they stay that way during the walk to the car.

I turn back that radio dial re-open your door,

Try to talk George Strait into giving us an encore

“Oh, a gentleman,” I tease as he opens the passenger’s door for me. He rolls his eyes but waits until I’m seated in his car, closing the door and running to the driver’s side.

“Are you going to play some more of what we were listening to on the way here or are you going to switch it up?” I question.

Pierre likes to put on a Swedish singer whenever we’re in the car to educate me on how many talented people come out of Sweden. I’m aware of it already since plenty of NHL players, including him, come from this nation but I don’t mind listening to music so I don’t say anything.

“Let’s change it,” he decides, “Have you listened to Avicii at all?”

“Only the songs that they play on the radio,” I admit.

“Oh, he has a lot more hits than that.” I watch as he pulls up his Spotify, smiling secretly to myself as I see his ‘Y/N’s hits’ playlist. I didn’t even know that he made a playlist of songs that I like. I wonder if it’s songs that I said I liked or if it’s just songs that we listened to together that I said that I like.

‘Wake Me Up’ begins to blast through the radio and I comment, “They play this a lot on the radio.”

“Then you have to sing along,” Pierre demands, beginning the drive back to my host’s home.

“Only if you sing too,” I protest.

“Y/N, I don’t sing.”

“Well, then I’m not singing,” I cross my arms as if to prove my point.

He gives me a look and sighs. “Feeling my way through the darkness…”

Re-spin you around

Replay that sound

Of you laughing when we hit the ground

“What are you doing?” I squeal as he pulls my door open and tugs me out of the car.

“I didn’t know I was lost,” Pierre sings along, wrapping an arm around my waist and gripping my other hand in his like we’re ballroom dancing to the song we’ve been listening to on repeat the whole car ride. “I didn’t know I was lost.”

He picks me up, gripping my waist and twirling me around, chuckling as I squeal in surprise at the action.

“Pierre!” I giggle as he continues to twirl us around. Finally he sets me on my feet and I’m laughing so hard I have to lean into him, too high off of life and love to be able to stand properly.

I can see it now how 'bout we

Float the moon back up in the sky,

Put a cork back into that sweet red wine

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. His lips ghost over mine as he says in a hushed voice, “I think you’re about to get in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

He pulls back, nodding his head towards the front door of my host family’s home. I follow his eyeline to see my host father standing on the porch, arms crossed, but a fond smile on his face.

“I guess that’s my queue.” I kiss his cheek, a tradition we’ve started since he first picked me up at the beginning of summer. “Thank you for the wonderful night and the delicious wine.”

“Thank you for educating me on constellations,” he teases, kissing the back of my hand.

I roll my eyes at his gentleman-like behavior, giving him a final wave before walking up the sidewalk and stepping past my host father into the house.

“Don’t say a word, papa,” I warn him lightly.

“Young love is beautiful,” he tells me, ignoring my words.

Put your midnight hair back up

So you can let it fall one more time

Untouch your skin

Unkiss your lips and kiss 'em again

“I love your hair, it’s so much longer now,” my coworker snaps me out of my daydreams once again, brushing a hand through my long locks.

“Yeah, thanks,” I tell her, pulling it back behind my shoulders. Everything in me is telling me to fight the urge but I can’t help it as I begin to French braid my hair, pretending my fingers are Pierre’s.

It seems like a pointless act because as soon as the braid is perfected, I let it go.

So good, so right,

This is one night I'm wishing I could rewind

I wanna re-fall and re-fly

Baby, re-live this night

“Do you remember when we went to that museum and saw that painting of that woman without her top on and you said that your boobs looked exactly like hers, and then didn’t show me your boobs so I could agree or disagree? The nerve,” he shakes his head.

I smile, watching him drive. I know he’s trying to get my mind off of my plane ride home and the fact that I’ll probably never see him again. Our whole relationship has been based off of teasing and lust, so he’s just helping me the best way he knows how to.

“And then you spilled your drink on my shirt to try to get me to take it off,” I continue, causing him to nod.

“I wanted to see them titties.”

I snort, leaning over to shove his shoulder. He jokingly swerves like I caused him to do so with my push and I squeal, not expecting it.

“That was a good date,” I mumble, sitting up and suddenly remembering that a date like that is never going to happen again.

Pierre doesn’t respond but reaches his hand over the center counsel, gripping my hand in his gently and raising it to his lips, leaving a kiss. It’s enough for me.

Float the moon back up in the sky,

Put a cork back into that sweet red wine

Put your midnight hair back up

So you can let it fall one more time

“Why did you have to book a nighttime flight? I’m so tired,” he yawns dramatically as he pulls my suitcase out of the back of his car, holding out his hand for me to grip as we make our way into the airport.

“So I could sleep on the plane. Let me remind you that I didn’t know you when I booked the ticket home, I thought my host father would bring me back to the airport.” I try to bump my shoulder into his shoulder teasingly but hit his arm instead because of our height difference.

“Well, you got something better,” he responds, stopping at the check-in station.

We face each other and he pulls me tightly into his arms, squeezing me like he’ll never let go. I’m not sure I ever want him to let me go. My arms wind around him in return and I grip him as close to me as possible, savoring the last few moments we’ll get together.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you a goodbye gift,” he mumbles into my hair. “I was going to get you some red 2012 wine but I completely forgot when I was at the store, if I’m being honest with you.”

I laugh into his chest. “I couldn’t even bring it on the plane with me, babe.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he pulls back, gripping my shoulders, “American customs and all.”

He gives me a fond smile, leaning in for one, last, passionate kiss. We suck all of the air out of our lungs before he pulls away, pushing me jokingly towards the counter. “See you later.”

“Yeah. See you later.”

Untouch your skin

Unkiss your lips and kiss 'em again

So good, so right,

This is one night I'm wishing I could rewind

The door chimes and I look up from the counter I’m wiping, freezing once I see who stepped in. It couldn’t be- no. Why would he be here, in America? I thought he played on a team in Canada? He stops once he sees me and I watch him for his reaction.

A smile beams across his face and he practically skips over to me, ignoring the questions that the boys he’s with are asking him.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

“Hi,” I repeat. I watch as his eyes flicker all over my face, from my eyes to my nose to my lips. They stay on my lips, the lips he’s kissed so many times.

I feel electric now that I’m in his presence again. I feel alive, like something left me when I left Sweden and is now coming back now that I’m with Pierre again.

(Float the moon back up in the sky)

I'm wishing I could rewind

(put a cork back into that sweet red wine)

I wanna re-live this night

So good, so right

“I never thought I would see you again,” he confesses, reaching up to sheepishly rub the back of his neck.

“Yeah, me neither. What are you doing here?” I question.

“We’re visiting the hockey team here.”

“This city has a hockey team?” I ask, bewildered.

His laugh rings through the small coffee shop. It’s a beautiful sound that I haven’t heard in a long enough time.

“Do you maybe want to go out tonight? And get some dinner and drinks and just catch up?” He suggests nervously.

“I would love that.”

#pierre engvall imagine #NHL imagines #toronto maple leafs imagine #pierre engvall x reader #pierre engvall fanfic

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