has been on my drafts for the past couple of days

Mija  // Jeff Atkins

A/N: This took me forever, and it’s long as hell. Word count is like 2K.

Named after: The fact that I thought it was mad cute.


It had been eleven days since his parents caught you in the middle of…almost sex. Eleven days, and yes you were counting. Eleven days of hugs, hand holding, and everything else that just friends do. Eleven days of nothing. Eleven days since Jeff had at least, kissed you.

It was frustrating, mentally and sexually, the way he was treating you. He made you feel like you had the same sex appeal as the sweaty socks on his feet.

 That’s not to say you didn’t try talking to him about it. You tried on day three, and he brushed it off, as though you made it up in your head.


You stood next to the trunk of Jeff’s car, post-baseball practice, as he was taking off his cleats. He set his slides on the gravel in front of him and leaned back into your ride home.

“Jeff… ” you whined.

He paused for a moment, turning at your tone of voice. “What’s up babe?”

“Is there a reason we haven’t done anything since…you know” you bite your lip looking up at him, nervous for honestly whatever he was going to say.

 "What do you mean?“ He answers, his voice wavers and he turns back to his shoes immediately. More focused on untying his laces than on telling you why he’s suddenly acting like he’s considering becoming a priest.

 At least if he told you he was planning on becoming a man of the cloth you’d understand what was going on. Instead, it feels like…like he doesn’t even care like he’s not into you anymore. And that in itself scares the shit out of you.

 He’s not even looking in your general direction when you prompt him again,

“We haven’t even kissed-”

 The sound of his cleats hitting one another is enough to stop whatever you were going to say. Jeff continues along, clouding out the sound of your voice. As if he was going to die if he didn’t get the dirt off his cleats at that very moment.

 "Yes, we have.“ He asserts, his eyes still on the Nike swish.

 You roll your eyes at him, moving in front of your boyfriend. You grab his wrists to stop the clatter of his shoe wear. “When.” You ask, doing your best to try and make him listen to you.

 He huffs briefly, avoiding your face. “I don’t- I don’t know…listen, I have a test on Thursday and it’s freaking me out a bit so can we just talk about this later?”

 "C’mon…” you start.

 His head tilts to the side, his eyes finally meet yours and his shoulders drop. You knew in your gut the conversation was not going to fall in your favor.

 "Please?“ He enunciates. “Just let me get through this test”

 He pouts and you’re glad he at least still remembers how to make you agree to whatever he wants because you’re nodding. Letting go of his wrists and getting into the passenger seat.


Jeff got through the test, as well as a bunch of other excuses. He was stressed. He had a big game. He wasn’t in the mood.

 You tried again, today, on day twelve, but this time in front of his friends. You knew Jeff was a leader, and despite being apart of the jocks he didn’t really care what they thought. But you were desperate that the social setting it might just make a change.

 You were standing with the whole crew of them, Foley, Dempsey, De La Cruz, and a few more of the football and soccer players. Jeff’s arm was around your waist as you were talking to Justin about the chapters you both didn’t read for English class.

 The bell rang and you knew Jeff had lunch while you had the said class. You turned to him letting him know you had to go, hopeful he would kiss you like he normally did before saying bye. Instead, he nodded at you, with a nonchalant, “I’ll see you after school?” before returning to his conversation with Monty.

 You take a step back out of his grasp and didn’t answer. Jeff turns his head, waiting for your response only to see you fall into step with Justin who’s trying his best to act like he didn’t notice. It’s silent for a few seconds as you turn the corner.

 As you make your way down the hall, Justin bumps into you playfully. “I’m sure he’s just tired.” He offers, trying to dull the blow to your ego.

 "Now cheer up, I need someone to make fun of Mr.K with.“


“Wait they walked in?!” Clay earns himself a ‘shh’ from the librarian with his outburst.

“Yeah! And my dad leaves, but my mom is just standing there, telling me I have to talk to my grandmother in Puerto Rico right then and there!”

 "Wow…that sucks.“ The shy boy offers back.

 What started out as a tutoring session in the library after school with Clay, somehow spiraled into what Jeff considered the most awkward situation he’s ever been in.

 "And then! After Y/N leaves, my mom comes back into my room to sit me down and have ‘the talk’.”

 Jeff pinches the bridge of his nose and Clay is trying his best not to laugh. Truth be told he finds the whole thing hilarious. Jeff, let me change your dollar valentine to get girls Jeff, the founding fathers smoked weed Jeff, the boy who still has girls ready to drop everything for him to so much as look in their direction Jeff, is…embarrassed.

 Clay bites his tongue to hold back just how funny he thought this was and instead says, “I feel like you’re a little too old for the talk”

 Jeff nods eagerly.

 "Yeah, no. This wasn’t the birds and the bees talk, this was the ‘are you prepared to be a dad’ talk!“ he’s whisper yelling now, and trying to keep his voice down.


“Mamá, no necesitamos tener esta charla” he pleads to the woman sitting in his desk chair.

 “Mijo ni siquiera has escuchado lo que tengo que decir” she says, laughing at her son.

 “No te gusta ella” Jeff assumes.

 “Eres como tu abuela, más que dramática…I love Y/N, she’s family. Mija. I just want you to be careful. What happens if she gets pregnant?”

 “We are careful, trust me, Mamá. Is that all?”

 She laughs, her son redder than the time he swung and missed at his first tee-ball game.

 Nodding watching him as she gets up, she calls out to him as she leaves the room. “Y no cuando estamos en casa. Por favor.”

 Jeff groans loudly, as he falls back onto his bead, “Yes, yeah I got it”.


“The worst part?” he prompts the boy.

 Clay nods eagerly, trying to wipe the smug grin off of his face.

 "Now, every time I want to do anything with Y/N, I literally cannot not see my mom’s face.“ Jeff deadpans. He finally looks at Clay long enough to realize that his tutor thinks this is funny.

 "I’m glad you think this is a joke, Jensen”

 Clay let’s out just a piece of his laugh now, and Jeff slumps back into his seat way past annoyed.

 "I’m-“ Clay lets out another chuckle, "I’m sorry man, it’s pretty funny”

 "Great, now can you help me? Y/N’s fucking pissed at me. You should’ve seen her face today…“

 Jeff knows his strengths, baseball and girls, and his weaknesses, school, and you. He’s appealing to his highest power of sensitivity and awkward charm.

 "Poor Jeff. His girlfriend wants to have sex with him. Let’s make a go fund me for all your troubles.” Clay says in his best jock voice.

 "You’re the worst, you know that?“

 "I love you too, Mijo.” The smaller boy makes kissy faces at the jock and Jeff throws the first few drafts of his essay at Clay.

 “You’re Jeff Atkins. Right?” Clay asks rhetorically.

 Jeff nods, rolling his eyes. It’s the dumbest shit he’s ever heard and he knows Clay is pulling this Dumbledore wisdom straight out of his ass.

 “So put on your big boy pants, and act like it.”

 There’s a silence that settles between the boys as Jeff takes in what Clay said.

 “Now listen, I need your help. I think Hannah and I are going to…you know” the smaller boy whispers.


“So he hasn’t done anything?”

You were leaning on Hannah’s locker, waiting for Jeff to be finished his tutoring session, filling her in on everything that had happened in the past eleven days.

 "Nope!“

 "Wow…” she mumbles, mostly to herself.

 "Yeah, and he told me his mom talked to him about it…and it’s only gotten worse. I swear he’s going to break up with me.“

 The last part of your sentence pours out of you involuntarily, as your head hits the locker right next to Hannah’s.

 "He’s not going to break up with you.” she says, as comforting as she can.

 "You don’t know that!“

 She sighs, rolling her eyes as she looks at you.

 "Just get him a little…worked up. If he turns you down, you know. But I’d bet you ten bucks he won’t.”

 "I’m not making a bet about whether or not my boyfriend will have sex with me or not. That’s just sad.“

 "Fine. All I’m saying is, maybe instead of using your words, you should maybe give him some action. Pun intended.”

 You sigh staring at the smirk on Hannah’s face.

 "My parents are…out of town this week.“

 You can’t believe you’re agreeing to what Hannah was implying. Jeff was normally the dominant one in your sex life. Sure you were on top sometimes but he was the one with the experience. He was your first.

 "Even better! We’ll stop by the mall today, we can go shopping” her voice rising a couple octaves. “You can pick out whatever you think will get him going.”

 You raise your eyebrow, suspiciously. You knew she had work.

 "Fine, I was going anyways. I already took off work. I want to look good for me and Clays first time. Sue me.“ she throws in casually.


You walk into the library, Hannah right behind you trying to find both of your boys. You spot them at a table whispering frantically at one another.

 “Mijo!” Hannah starts a smile wide on her face.

 Jeff sighs, shaking his head. “You told her?” he questions.

 You turn instead to Clay as you lean over the table. “Clay, did he tell you?” Clay’s mouth drops trying to form a response, his hands gesturing to nothing in particular. “I thought so”, you concluded.

 Jeff rolls his eyes, clearing his throat. “Fine. Fine, we’re almost done, babe, right, tattle tale?” he asks looking back to Clay. Clay rolls his eyes at the name while nodding in agreement.

 “Actually, Hannah and I are…going to the mall. My house at 10 though. Don’t be late.”  You say to your boyfriend. Jeff knows your parents aren’t home this week. He’d been avoiding it for the past few days. “Actually- I kinda had plans with Clay-” Jeff improvs. “10. Atkins. I’m serious”.

 Jeff is looking at Clay like he was a lifeline. The boy smiles back at him, almost to taunt him. “Yeah mijo, go with her. Hannah and I kinda had plans.” He repeats Jeff’s words and now the baseball player may have to actually kick his ass.

Hannah laughs and you smile at Clay graciously, kiss your boyfriend’s cheek and make your way out. Hannah high fiving once you get out of the school doors.


It was 10 on the dot when the doorbell rang to your house.

There’s no need to size up Mitch Marner

SAN JOSE—Paul Marner has been hearing it almost from the moment his son began dominating minor hockey games around the GTA.

“We’d stand there and listen to people constantly talk about Mitch’s size. ‘Oh my God, he’s way too small.’ ‘Oh my God, he’s going to get killed,’ ” Paul Marner was saying recently. “But as a parent, maybe you’re too close to it. At the time we never thought he was that small.”

Upon more recent review — looking back at video of Mitch’s rise through the ranks of the Greater Toronto Hockey League en route to starring for the Maple Leafs during a remarkable rookie year — a father has come to see things differently.

“I pulled out a game tape the other day from peewee and I thought to myself, ‘Oh my God, he looks like someone’s little brother on the ice.’ ”

Little Mitch, at the time, was playing peewee against boys a year older. At the time Michael Dal Colle, a longtime minor-hockey teammate of Marner’s who went on to be taken fifth overall by the New York Islanders in the 2014 NHL draft, was about 13 years old, standing five-foot-eight and 160 pounds, Paul Marner said. Mitch, at the same time, was four-foot-seven and about 85 pounds. Body-checking was permitted.

“Every coach we played against was sending guys out to kill him. So his whole life, Mitch has dealt with that,” Paul Marner said. “And right now, even though there’s some huge guys in the NHL, I think he’s at the least size disadvantage he’s probably ever had his whole life.”

“It was eating him up inside to be out of the lineup — it’s been hard on him,” said Matt Martin, the Leafs forward. “But for a guy like that, you just want to make sure he’s taking care of himself.”

Paul Marner said questions about Mitch’s long-term durability have always gone hand in hand with concerns about his skimpy frame. A couple of years back, when Marner was a draft-eligible 17-year-old racking up a nightly average of two points a game for the OHL’s London Knights, scouts flocked to see him play against the hard-hitting Oshawa Generals, then coached by Leafs assistant D.J. Smith. The fact that Marner suffered a fracture in his elbow that night — this on a hit from behind that earned Oshawa’s Will Petschenig an eight-game suspension — didn’t exactly end the conversation about his chances of weathering the professional grind.

“It’s almost a stigma that won’t go away,” Paul Marner said of concerns about the implications of Marner’s size. “But it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

The hockey father, to that point, said he can count on one hand the instances in which his son has been hurt on a rink. There was a dirty slash that broke Mitch’s arm around age 10. There was a hip flexor issue that kept him out a few weeks when he was about 15. And then there was a case of whiplash suffered as a Knight in 2015, this after Erie’s Mason Marchment cuffed Marner with a stick to the jaw. Marchment was suspended 10 games.

Cheap shots happen, and anyone can get injured. But it’s worth noting the injury that kept Marner out of the lineup these past couple of weeks wasn’t a matter of a bigger player preying on the small-framed Maple Leaf. It was Marner who initiated the contact with Columbus’s Boone Jenner that ended with the Maple Leaf crashing awkwardly into the boards.

“Durability-wise, I’ve never been worried about it. He’s always got his head up,” Paul Marner said. “You look at the amount of time he’s played — how much he was on the ice in minor hockey and in the OHL, and how much he has the puck in the NHL — I think he’s pretty durable.”

It’s a compelling enough case. Mitch, for his part, has long been blase about concerns about his size.

“You can’t do anything about your body,” Marner said. “I’ve always been in this situation.”

The situation, mind you, is improving. While Mitch weighed in at about 160 pounds when the Leafs drafted him fourth overall in 2015, he has since put on weight. Exactly how much weight? Well, Mitch can be coy about this subject.

“It’s whatever it says on the sheet. 170? That’s what it says on the sheet,” he said.

Toronto’s No. 16, in contrast, is downright forceful about his height.

“I’m six feet,” he recently said in a declaration that drew guffaws around the dressing room. “Nobody believes that.”

Mitch, who doesn’t turn 20 until May, said he’s of the belief that he’s still growing. He said his older brother, Chris, had a late spurt around age 20 or 21 and now stands about six-foot-two. And there’s height on mother Bonnie’s side of the family. She’s five-foot-10. Paul Marner, who’s also about five-foot-10, said lately he finds himself looking up at his youngest son, whom he figures can easily add another 20 pounds of muscle to his frame before he’s fully formed.

Said Mitch: “It’s a thing in our family — stuff happens late.”

This is another claim that doesn’t go over well in the Maple Leafs room.

“He tells me he’s still growing all the time,” Martin said, rolling his eyes. “Good luck with that one. He thinks he’s going to be 6-3. I know he’s young. But he’s not that young.”

Mitch Marner shrugged and smiled: “If I grow or not, I’m happy how I am now.”

If how he is now is healthy and back in the lineup as Toronto’s push for the playoffs continues, there’s a fan base that likes him just fine, too.

//so I was thinking this morning (always a dangerous sign) that I’ve talked a bit recently about how the Tumblr RP community isn’t always very good at encouraging people to find ways to manage or get to their drafts, and is instead more likely to coddle peoples’ anxieties without actually helping them at all. 

So this is a post of a few tips and tricks that might help RPers manage some of the more common anxieties I see crop up in our circle. Now, I’m not a full psychologist and nor am I licensed counselor. But I do have my master’s degree in clinical psychology with the intention to go on for the PhD (or get licensed to practice if I don’t get into a program) so I do kinda know what I’m talking about. Hopefully some of this advice is a little helpful:

1. “My drafts just stress me out.” This is a pretty common complaint, but I think in most circumstances it’s caused by stress going on outside of the RP world. Take a step back and breathe. Handle whatever is going on in your real life. That always comes first. If you come back and your drafts are still causing you to feel panicky, the next step is to find out the more specific reasons why. That’s going to help you best address the anxiety. Read on for some common reasons.

2. “I’ve gotten so behind, there’s so many and I’m overwhelmed.” This happens all the time! You take a hiatus for a week or two, or life just got really busy for a while, or just lost muse and now it’s back. But in the meantime, your drafts have piled up- suddenly you’re looking at 20, 50, 100- how do you even start? 

The best way I’ve found to handle this is to break them up into smaller chunks. It might be helpful to copy and paste your partners’ replies over into one or more word documents. You can then further organize those word documents even more. One for short replies, one for long, one for medium length. Or you can organize by muses, by how long the draft has been in your folder- whichever way you want to handle this. If you want to put one reply per document, you can organize them into folders instead. How you do this is entirely up to you.

Set a small goal for yourself- even one draft a day is better than no drafts at all. But by breaking the work up into chunks, you’ve taken a lot of the pressure off yourself. A goal of 1-5 drafts a day is a lot better than looking at all 50. 

Another tip- use the queue! Or simply keep completed drafts saved in the drafts folder until you’ve caught up enough to start posting. The queue will stagger your posts so replies aren’t coming out all at once, and your partners aren’t able to immediately reply back. And obviously keeping them in drafts even after they’re done lets you have more time to catch up. These are just a couple of tips, however, and there are probably other good ways to manage drafts. Find what works best for you!

And don’t be afraid to drop a couple if you have no muse for those threads anymore. Just let your partner know, they’ll understand. And if they don’t, they’re just an asshole and who needs that, right? It is better to communicate that you’re dropping them, however, so you’re partner isn’t left hanging.

3. “I haven’t replied in weeks, I’m worried my partner hates me.” I guarantee this is not true. Most people in the rp community are very understanding of slow response time. Your partners want to rp with you- they’ll be thrilled to see a response, even if it’s been several weeks. Responding, even slowly, shows a lot more dedication and excitement over your threads. 

So if it’s been several weeks, and you finally have muse for that thread and want to reply to it, but feel guilty or anxious because it’s been so long- reply anyway. Your partner will be so happy to see your response. 

Another way to alleviate this anxiety is to simply talk to your partner. And I know, this can be scary- but sometimes you have to bite the bullet and do the thing that makes you anxious. Take it slow if you need to, but communication is the best way to feel better about it. And I guarantee, you are going to feel so much more proud of yourself if you did the thing that made you anxious than if you didn’t.

That goes for replying as well. 

4. “I feel so inadequate compared to others. I should just stop.” This is an example of what mental health professionals call a “negative automatic thought”, or “NAT”. And like real gnats, these little thoughts get all up in your ears and start buzzing around. They can spiral out of control very quickly, until you feel absolutely terrible about yourself. These thoughts are very common in people with both anxiety and depression. 

But the thing is, they can be changed. You can actually re-wire your brain with a little work so that it won’t think these thoughts quite as often. One of the most effective ways is to simply replace the negative thought with a positive one- even if you don’t believe it. So if your negative thought is “I’m horrible compared to other people,” a replacement thought could be “No, I’m just as good as anyone else,” or “my writing is unique to me and it has value.”

You will not believe yourself at first, and it will seem a little bit weird when you start. It’s also a little challenging- your negative thoughts are automatic, you’re so used to thinking them that you aren’t even fully aware of it it half the time. But when you do catch yourself spiraling off into those negative thoughts- try to stop them. This is something we teach in therapy and over time, it does help. And it does get easier.

5. “It has to be PERFECT.” Perfectionism is at the root of a lot of peoples’ anxieties. But I challenge you with this- why? Why does it have to be perfect? What will happen if it’s not perfect? 

The answer to that, usually, is “my partners will hate me/lose interest/think I’m stupid or a bad writer.” Perfectionism is usually a fear of judgment, and it’s usually fueled by feelings of inadequacy or fears of failure. So to that, I refer you back to the previous advice about negative automatic thoughts. 

Challenge your thinking about your perfectionism. A good replacement thought for this one is “even if it’s not perfect, my partner will still be happy that I responded. My writing is still valuable to them.” Another good one- “imperfection means there’s room to grow. Mistakes don’t mean I’m a failure or no good.” 

In general, don’t let anxiety say “I can’t do this.” You can do it. Anxiety is not a permanent state. The body cannot sustain it very long- the elevated heart rate, heavy breathing, heightened arousal- it’s physically impossible for it to last. Eventually, your body will start to calm itself and even back out. This is something that is very hard to sit with, because your natural instinct is to run away from the thing that’s making you anxious. Your instinct is to close the drafts folder, to close the messenger, to log out of tumblr and ignore it all completely. But the truth is, that only makes your anxiety worse in the long run. 

Now, if these tips don’t help, or you’re finding your anxiety is so bad that it’s affecting your daily life in almost everything- I encourage people to please see a psychologist, psychiatrist, or some other mental health professional. Anxiety that’s chronically preventing you from doing the things you enjoy is anxiety that probably needs treatment. Having the extra support of a therapist or medication often makes it possible to implement some of these strategies, or find better ones that work for you. Especially if you’re having a hard time managing things on your own. 

Anybody that wants to add to this with other ideas that have been helpful to you, please feel free to do so. 

William Nylander #3

PART TWO

Anonymous: can you write another william nylander imagine?

A/N: So this has been in my drafts for a while, and just recently these past couple days I’ve got so much motivation to keep writing this little story. So it will have several parts, and I hope you all enjoy :)

Word Count: 2,963

Originally posted by leafbabies

“It’s not fair,” you heard a voice say, “are we just supposed to ignore the fact the owners daughter is smoking hot?” With that you stopped dead in your tracks, leaning against the wall just before the dressing rooms, and decided to listen in on whatever conversation you were the topic of. 

“She’s obviously off limits, Willy,” you could recognize Naz’s voice. 

Keep reading

Ruff & Tumble

[read on ao3]

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 6.5k

warnings: swearing

extra tags: blowjob, handjob, dogs

summary:

Dan moves into his new apartment for the dog park downstairs – little does he know that the town comes with more than just fluffy tails.  

AU where Phil has a dog and Dan almost doesn’t know if he likes the dog or the boy more.

excerpt; 

The guy looks up from his kneeling position in the grass, and seeing Dan, smiles. The dog next to him, with her fluffy golden curl of a tail, wiggles her butt at him. Dan doesn’t think he’s ever seen a better sight.

That is, until he actually looks up into the owners face.

Oh no, he thinks, Oh, no, no.

Keep reading

3

So the above photos, this tweet, and some spirited conversations in the group chat led to this ficlet. Much contribution from @sidsknee and @ehghtyseven, the best bits were their ideas. Make sure you take a look at @sidsknee‘s AO3 here

Unbeta’d! 

Shape of You

Geno feels like shit. The ice packs the trainers sent him back to the hotel with have gone warm. They’re going to take ages to refreeze in the tiny freezer of his mini fridge; and in the meantime, he’d like to maybe sleep, at some point. Their flight tomorrow is at ass’o’clock in the morning. He can’t wait to be back home. This entire road trip has been hellish, with tonight’s game the worst of all.

Keep reading

Casino Night - Tyler Seguin (Part 2)

A/N: I’m really enjoying writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading just as much. Again, English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Word Count: 1319

Warnings: None, I think.

Part 1

Originally posted by tylerseguin-stars

I walk around, not quite sure if I need air, a shot of tequila, sleep for a year or someone to slap me. I feel stupid, to be honest, like I was a freshman who is starstruck by the senior quarterback. Tyler has got under my skin way too easily and I don’t like it. I’ve always been hard to impress, way too sassy, it’s difficult to keep my attention… and now I can only think about this guy I met less than two hours ago and that I know nothing about.

After walking around without direction I decide that it is time to find (Y/F/N) and getting the hell out of here before I start banging my head against the walls out of embarrassment. She is where she said she was gonna be, playing roulette and being the life of the party.

“C’mon, Miss Luck! Take some risks!” The guy I assume it’s Jamie Benn is yelling at my friend when I get to the table. God, I literally know nothing about the Dallas Stars and I make a mental note to investigate about them tomorrow.

“Having fun?” I ask her from behind, scaring her.

“Omg, (Y/N)! Don’t do that! I could have die” She scolds me and I laugh, kissing her cheek.

“I think you will live another day” I say, looking at the table “So, what’s your bet?”

“I kind of want to go for a number, but there is no way I’m getting it, right?” She whispers

“Just do it!” I cheer her and she pulls out her best smile before grabbing a couple $100 chips and putting them on the number 14.

Jamie looks at her closely and smirks “Good choice”

The little ball starts spinning around the roulette and I hold my breath, actually anxious about my friend losing $200 on a game. It seems like it is taking forever for the ball to stop and I can’t help but to shut my eyes before it does. I hear my friend laugh and I open my eyes to see the ball on the number 30, right next to the number 14.

“It wasn’t meant to be” she says and I put my arm around her shoulders.

“You still look bomb” I try to comfort her

“Cheers to that” Jamie says from across the table and my friend blushes until she looks more like a tomato than a human being.

“Shall we go?” She looks at me with puppy eyes and I realize that she is trying to not think about all the money she has lost.

I nod and we wave goodbye at Jamie as we walk to the elevators, ready to take a cab and leave the casino. We donate all our chips on our way out and the lady gives us an envelope.

“They are tickets for the next home game” she explains and we just take them and walk out.

The drive is quiet and my head can’t stop thinking about Tyler. I try to make a mental list of all I know about him; he is a hockey player, he plays for the Dallas Stars, he was drafted five or six years ago, he used to play for the Bruins…and that’s it. I know nothing more of this guy. I have never been too interested on the players’ personal lives, not even the Red Wings players, so I don’t know where he is from, his family, etc… Maybe it is for the best.

The ride feels shorter that it really is and before I know it I am home. I take my heels off before climbing the stairs to my apartment. My feet ache and I’m quite sure I have blisters all over my toes… ugh, gross.

My apartment is small but cozy. It has a decent size bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchen, a living room and my favorite part, a nice terrace where I have a small table and tons of plants. The color scheme is simple, light blue, light grey and white. Everything is perfectly coordinated and my red dress doesn’t go well with it, so I walk to my room and change to a pair of leggings and a white sweater, feeling more like myself as soon as I do. Don’t get me wrong, I’m comfortable with my body, but the dress was just too much for me…I’m more of a pair of jeans and a nice top kind of girl. I walk back to the living room and sit on the couch, pulling my white faux blanket over my body as I grab my laptop from the coffee table in front of me.

“You are gonna regret this, dum-dum” as I get in the browser and type Tyler Seguin on it.

There are thousands of websites talking about Tyler Seguin and I spend what it feels like hours reading articles about him. Apparently, he is a good player but he is also known for his love for partying. I keep reading, learning about his trade from Boston to Dallas due for his attitude outside the ice and how it seems like he has calmed down and matured since his arrival to Dallas. I smile watching a video about his charity Seguin Stars, which is incredibly kind of him. I might have watched the video of his ESPN body issue too, but I will deny it if you ask me.

I yawn and I realize that it is pasted 2am and I probably should head to bed sooner rather than later but, as much as I love hockey, I didn’t start looking into him because I wanted to know his stats so I push myself and I type girlfriend next to his name and hit enter. I spend ten minutes scrolling through websites until I shut my laptop and frown, feeling like the biggest fool on Earth.

{Tyler’s POV}

“Tyler, I would’ve bought you that drink”

That sentence is playing on repeat in my head. I can’t believe that I didn’t come back with something witty to say. Man, I can’t believe I didn’t even get her number or instagram. God, I can’t believe I didn’t even ask her what her name is.

I hit the wheel of my Ferrari with the heel of my hand out of frustration and I speed, needing some sort of distraction from her. She knew who I was, but she wasn’t impressed and that was refreshing. I’m too used to girls throwing themselves at me and I just have to choose my favorite and the rest is done, but this mysterious girl wasn’t having it. A challenge, I haven’t had one of those for a while.

I get to my new house and park the car inside the garage before walking in through the door that leads to the kitchen, where pair of happy labs greet me.

“Hello boys” I coo to my sons “have you been good?” as I push Cash away before he ruins my Tom Ford suit.

They follow me to the kitchen, where I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and get a couple treats for them as an I’m-sorry-I haven’t-been-home gift. I walk upstairs to my room, knowing that the dogs will follow me as soon as they are done eating and walk into my closet, taking my suit off and hanging it next to a couple of pieces of clothing that I need to take to the dry cleaner. I walk to my bed and get under the covers when I hear the boys racing upstairs and hooping on the bed, getting comfortable next to me.

“You two are sooooo spoiled” I whisper to them and they just look at me like they own the place. They probably do.

I turn to my side, this girl still stuck in my head as I drift to sleep.

Superhusbands4ever’s January 2017 Fic Rec

Hey guys! So I got the idea to do a monthly fic rec where I list any Tony ship fics that I read and liked that month (because I read a ridiculous amount of fanfiction, it’s crazy), and a lot of people were interested! So I’m going to post each month’s list on the last day of every month, but I’m posting two this month since I missed January (there’ll be more in next month’s, I promise). (If you’re not a Tony fan this list probably won’t interest you lmao)

January | February

Fics marked with ** are personal favorites that I highly recommend you read. Like if you don’t read the others, at least read those.

Stony (Steve/Tony)

“But as a guy who’s never been good at anything but killing- lemme tell you this. Wars can come to us, and we can fight to end them.”

“But nothing’s ever worth starting one. Nothing at all.”

As the dust of Civil War starts to settle- Steve begins to see a couple of things.

  • Your Name on Every Wall by Sineala - 616 Fix it of so many things, general knowledge of Civil War and Original Sin recommended - 18K

The Time Gem throws Steve into the past rather than the future, and in doing so, it gives him the opportunity to undo his past mistakes. But when it turns out that all of his mistakes involve Tony Stark, Steve begins to wonder if he’s ever going to be able to mend things between them.

Tony is no stranger to paternity claims from his female conquests, there’s a system in place for them. But when one of the tests actually comes back positive, he makes a rash decision to not tell anyone about it, not even Pepper Potts. All Mary Parker wants is for Tony to spend a little time with their son. Tony has a lot to think about in his life now, how he wants to run his company, how his life is going to change with the arc reactor, and what he’s going to do about his son, Peter. Then, the Avengers Initiative pops up, and in waltzes his childhood hero, and enemy, Captain America.

Follows the lives of the Starks, Parkers, and Rogers’, as they grow up, and grow in life.

(more under the cut)

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What about Genji and his s/o are about to get intimate but then Genji gets really insecure about his new body and his s/o comforts him? Thank you!! I love this blog so much!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I chose to write Blackwatch!Genji solely because you said new body. XD I hope that’s okay!

Also, I wasn’t sure if you meant fluffy intimacy or NSFW intimacy, sooo I went with NSFW.

(To the asker of this prompt, I apologize. I thought I’d finished it and put it in queue but it was apparently buried in my drafts under like four others. Aannnd then I rewrote it from headcanons to a fic, which I think turned out way better but also took me an extra couple of days. Again, I’m so sorry but I hope you enjoy!)

~~~

It has been a few months since you and your boyfriend Genji had gotten together. During his rough transition from human to cyborg, you were one of the very few people he could stand. You didn’t ask questions about his experiences, you were usually pleasant to him (if not a bit sassy), and you defended him when people started to dick around with him but he was just too tired to deal with them. The relationship started slowly and naturally and flawlessly, and it was only a matter of time until the intimacy was kicked up a notch.

So there you were, straddling Genji’s waist as the kisses you shared continued to get hotter and needier. His hands roamed along your half-naked body and through your messy hair, while yours struggled to remove the jacket he wore to hide his partially robotic body. However, when you managed to do so, Genji’s hands moved from your hips to lightly hold your wrists as he pulled back from your kisses.

Your (E/C) gaze was met by Genji’s own hazel-amber eyes, which had the passion slowly fading from them and turning into nervousness.

“Genji?” you questioned, becoming a bit worried, “Are you okay?”

The man below you smiled sheepishly before raising your hands to his lips. He kissed each of your fingertips before splaying your hands out over his heart. The left side of his chest, which was the only part that was still flesh.

“Maybe,” he started slowly, looking at anywhere but at your face, “Maybe we should wait.”

You sighed softly and freed your hands from his, only to trace patterns over his chest and shoulders. “You’re still not comfortable with this, are you?”

“It’s not that,” Genji insisted. He sat up partially and wrapped his arms lightly around your waist. Resting his chin on the top of your head, he murmured, “I’m more comfortable with you than anyone. Even more than when McCree and I are dicking around.”

You chuckled at this. McCree was second in place behind you on the list of people Genji could tolerate. With both of them having rough childhoods and overbearing backgrounds, they’d clicked almost instantly and, whenever they were around each other, they acted like the dynamic duo of dorky teenage boys.

“I promise you, none of this is because I’m uncomfortable with us moving forward this way,” Genji continued, moving to rest his forehead against yours and finally looking you in the eyes once more. “But.. My new body. It cause some… hindrances during these occasions.”

“Genji,” you cooed, running your fingers through his dark hair, “you’re not going to hurt me. You’ve gotten control of your body a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t lose that control,” Genji countered, flopping back onto your soft mattress.

You rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his lips, tracing your fingers across the visible metal plates of his body. He still wore pants, also solely for hiding the body he deemed to be ugly.

You went on, “Do you really think that I would myself in danger if I thought a guy I liked was dangerous? I wouldn’t have. Genji, you’re dangerous to your enemies, not to me. You cannot and will not hurt me.” You paused, kissing his temple before continuing, “By the way, while we’re on the subject of your body, I know that you think you look like an ugly piece of shit–”

“Ah, there’s my already low self-esteem appearing,” Genji interrupted with a timid chuckle.

Let me finish.” You leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to his lips, eliciting a curious hum from the man below you. Then you sat up straighter, still straddling his hips, and began to trace your hands lower on his torso as you spoke. “As I was saying, I know you may think that you’re not the prettiest peach in the bunch–”

Genji snorted at the analogy, which made you sound like Jesse, but didn’t interrupt again.

“–but, seriously, you’re like one of the most attractive men around here. Like, ever, actually. There’s a reason McCree gets fussy with me hogging you from him and I’m pretty sure your stupid prank wars are not that reason.”

After you finished speaking, Genji threw his head back as laughed, a very rare sight to see. You smiled in response and talked one of his hands. You pressed it to your cheek, which caused him to calm down and look at you once more. A goofy, comfortable grin now graced his lips.

You tilted your head to kiss his fingertips as he brushed his hand down your cheek and lowered your voice back into a soft, sweet tone. “So, are we okay now? No more self-doubt and worrying about fictional problems. You’re amazing and wonderful and kind of a stud; there’s nothing you need to worry about with me.”

He snorted at your compliments and traced his thumb across your lips. After a moment of quiet, he spoke up again. “Can I tell you one more thing?”

“Boy it better be I love you or I may just have to turn this love fest into a wrestling match,” you warned, smiling all the while.

“Okay so two things then.”

That earned Genji a smack.

“Okay, okay,” he said, meeting your gaze with a shy grin, “I do love you. You know I do.”

“And?”

“And,” Now he blushed and turned away. “I may or may not have remembered to get the attachments for this particular activity.”

You stared at him for a moment before reached past him to grab a pillow and whacking him with it between words.

“God. Damn. It. Genji. Why. Not??

The Japanese man was laughing again, trying to stop the soft weapon for lightly pummeling him to death, to no avail.

“I was going to use it as an excuse if you continued to try and throw your body at me.”

“Oh, what, you mean like this?” You tossed the pillow aside and flopped on him, purposely landing with your torso on his face. “Or did you mean more like this?” You rolled onto your back, crossed your arms over your chest, and huffed.

You felt your partners hot breath against your back as he snickered, then wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed kisses along your spine.

“This is exactly what I meant,” he retorted, his voice lower than usual and muffled a bit from underneath you. He kissed your spine again, making you shiver. “Of course, I’m feeling a lot better about it than I would have earlier.”

You hummed in response, running your hands over his arms and his hands began to lightly knead at your waist.

“You know,” you commented, shifting in his arms to face him again, “you stil have robo-fingers and a human tongue that would work just as wonderfully in place of those attachments you forgot, if you’re still up for it.”

Genji feigned thought briefly, before pressing a biting kiss to your collar bone. “I think I’d be okay with that.”

Concern

So here is another Bughead fic. This is one is canon compliant. @riverdalehighvixens thank you so much for your help, checking over my work. :)


It doesn’t take long for Jughead to figure out that something’s on Betty’s mind.

Betty had been acting weird ever since Dilton Doiley came in with the information of seeing Miss Grundy’s car in the woods.

Not ‘I know Archie is sleeping with Miss Grundy’ weird, Jughead would have been able to pick up on that. No, this is different.

But from the way she spends her time staring off into space, hand holding a pen over her notebook ready to write if she has to, Jughead can tell that she doesn’t want him to notice anything is amiss.

He decides to test his theory.

“Betty?” He calls out casually.

Betty doesn’t respond.

“Betty?” He asks, a bit louder, but still keeping his voice soft.

Betty looks over at him quickly, pressing her pen down to the notebook ever so slightly. “Yes, Juggy?”

“I’m going to get something from the vending machine, you want anything?”

“No, thank you.” She smiles gratefully at him before looking back at her notepad, which doesn’t have a lot written in it.

Jughead turns around and heads to the vending machine, his theory proven correct, doubling his concern.

It isn’t until the next day when he’s sitting with Archie, Betty, Veronica and Kevin that he notices something else. While Betty’s doing a good job of listening and joining the conversation when it comes to Kevin and Archie, Betty’s not looking or talking as much with Veronica.

He’s off to his own, just sitting there in all his 'brooding mystery’ as Veronica calls it, and tries to pinpoint other areas of tension. But other than Betty not looking at Veronica, and Veronica shooting well hidden concerned glances every once in a while, everything else is fine.

Archie is excitedly telling them about his new sound proof music room and how he’s going to invite them over as soon as he’s not grounded anymore. His excitement is enough to distract Jughead as Archie looks at each of his friends one at a time. That’s the magic of Archie, he makes you feel special.

Kevin is too into Archie’s story that he’s not as observant as usual. If Jughead can give him credit for anything, it’s always catching the smallest shift in Betty since she’s his best friend. But now he’s exchanging ideas with Archie, who’s responding back with the same enthusiasm.

It seems today was a good day to have this conversation. Otherwise, both Kevin and Archie would have picked up on Betty and Veronica’s behavior.

Veronica excuses herself to go to the restroom, asking Betty to watch her purse. Betty tells her yes, and Veronica gets up after looking at Betty, but Betty is resolute in not looking at her.

Jughead gives it a minute before announcing he’s going to get something from the vending machine. Archie and Kevin make their demands pulling money from their wallets.

“You want anything, Betty?” Archie asks, “I’ll pay.”

“Yeah, you’re a little quiet today. I think you’re in need of a sugar boost.” Kevin adds in.

Betty chuckles nervously. “I’m not quiet. You guys have reason to be extra chatty today. It’s really cool that your Dad is doing this for you, Archie.” Betty smiles.

Archie smiles in return. “Yeah, he’s the best. Is there anything you want?”

“Just a water, thank you. I’m just thirsty.”

Jughead takes their money, making note of everything they wanted, and he’s just in time to run into Veronica in the hallway.

“Going to the vending machine, want anything?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Okay.”

Well that makes everything easier.

“You’re quiet today.” Jughead points out, thinking this is a safe place to start.

“Archiekins has better news than anything I could say.” Veronica states, and Jughead knows she’s playing conversation chess, because that was said so Jughead wouldn’t try to ask more questions.

Jughead almost admires her, but he’s got an objective. “You’ve had a bad couple of days. I can understand that.”

“Can you?” Veronica shoots him an easy smirk.

“Not personally, but if Betty is any indication, then yes, I understand.” There, he set the bait.

Veronica doesn’t let anything past her impassive face, but when she glances at him the worry there, in her eyes. “Is she okay?”

She’s not, but Jughead doesn’t know what’s wrong, and if Veronica doesn’t know either then he doesn’t have any leads anymore.

“She’s been extra quiet ever since the Clayton incident.”

Veronica isn’t confused like he thought she would be, and Jughead realizes that she does know something. Maybe not the whole thing, but she knows something.

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Veronica doesn’t answer right away.

“I don’t know anything if that’s what you’re after.” She finally states.

“But something happened.” Jughead says.

“You’re her friend, right? She trusts you?” Veronica asks instead.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Then ask her. You’re not one to beat around the bush, just ask her.”

“You can’t tell me anything?” Jughead asks, because he knows if he’s going to have to ask Betty, he won’t be able to help her like he hoped he would.

“It’s not my place to tell, Jughead.” Veronica starts walking down the hall to the vending machine and Jughead doesn’t try not to worry this time, because Veronica confirmed that something was bothering Betty.

When they return, Betty is the first one to look over. It doesn’t take a genius to know that when she sees Veronica and Jughead together, Betty figured that they talked about her. It was in the way she didn’t look at him once even though he was sitting right across from her on Archie’s left.

After school, when they’re in the Blue and Gold offices, Betty stares at her notepad, writing every once in a while, but Jughead knows she’s waiting for him to say something. There’s a visible tension in her shoulders.

Jughead wants to ask, he wants to help, but if he knows something about Betty it’s that she has to be the one to take the first step. Anything else would be too much like how her Mother demands things of her.

“Betty?”

Betty relaxes her shoulder before she looks up at him, expression casual, but her lips closed tight and that tells Jughead everything. She won’t talk.

“You want to get out of here? We can work at Pop’s today. I’m in the mood for a burger. I’ll buy you anything.”

“I thought it was always on me?” Betty asks after a moment’s pause as she searched his face, a small smile starts forming in her lips, and Jughead knows he’s doing something right.

“I’m breaking the golden rule of asking you to leave before my article is at least rough drafted. It’s on me today.” He gives her a pointed look. “Just today. My demand still stands.”

Betty shakes her head chuckling and that knot of worry twists uncomfortably in his chest, because he wants her to always be smiling and easy going and happy. She shouldn’t loose her happiness by being bogged down by whatever had happened.

“Okay.” She stretches before grabbing her things and Jughead shoots her a half smile.

He makes easy conversation with her, keeping the subject on the article and how even though he broke the rule, he gets bonus points for knowing what he’s going to type up. So it’s like he did the whole article.

Betty does seem more relaxed after that, and Jughead makes sure to keep on safe topics.

“I’m really happy Archie’s Dad soundproofed the garage for him.”

“It should be fun hearing his new songs.” Jughead acknowledges. “We should go together.”

They both pause, processing his words. That had to be the second time Jughead asked Betty to do something with him.

Betty slowly smiles at him. “You know, if you want to ask me out, all you need to do is ask.” She’s teasing him and Jughead has to fight off a grin.

“Duly noted.” Jughead replies, opting to keep his answer vague, but even then a soft blush blooms in her cheeks and she can’t stop smiling as she continues to eat her fries.

Jughead watches her silently, with a fond smile of his own.

anonymous asked: Sapphire’s post reminded me of Our Story! The most recent chapter wasn’t the last one was it?

Liv says: I’m calling this Chapter 8.5. It still ties into their second marriage, of course—I just couldn’t resist Julia and little Claire. And a massive thank you to @lenny9987 who is always willing to read my drafts and give me feedback <3 

Read Chapters One through Eight here.


Our Story

Claire has few memories of her mother, and those that exist are only half-formed. Hardly memories at all.

Rather:

Small blips of sight and sound and smell. Directionless aches in the night, skin raised to gooseflesh by a living darkness. Sometimes there is a vision of two fine-boned hands, their fingers playing the air with passionate arcs and flutters. At others, there are emeralds winking from pale lobes, and a whisper of bergamot on the stretch of neck below. Baby, a voice says, so clear but distant, it’s only for one night. We’ll be back before you—

Fragments.

Among these, however, there is one that is complete. It is something Claire parades at dinner parties, a piece of trivia that reduces her childhood to the first five years of her life. No funerals, no suitcases. No grief hollowing her little, avian bones. Only: Easy.

In this memory, Julia Beauchamp wears a sweater dress and Kork-Ease boots. Her heels are impractical for a stroll through the park, though that is what they are doing—strolling—as they have done every Friday since Claire could walk. It is just the two of them, mother and child, while her father toils in a dark mechanic’s shop, slicked with sweat and sleeved in black grease. 

He will return so deflated that evening—“Like my own bloody oxygen pumped the tires.”—that Julia will kiss the moons under his eyes, will regret not capturing the sun. And so the following week, when Claire remembers her father’s tired face, she will produce a drained Dasani and hold it skywards. Autumn seeping inside the bottle and then inside her pocket; the bright November gliding down Henry’s throat over an meatloaf dinner. (He will indulge his sweet daughter, drinking and drinking until the December day where he cannot; where Claire must pour the bottle over a mound of dirt.)

But while Henry tinkers with cars so, too, does Claire’s mother do her own work. Observing, absorbing, and storing the day away—right here, on this park path.

That is how Claire’s one full memory begins: their joined hands swinging, and their eyes taking. Dried leaves; flannelled backs bent over canoe oars. So vivid in her mind, even now.

But when Julia says, “Baby, how about we play our game?” young Claire breaks the hold and sighs.

At this point, it has been two weeks since the death of her four-year old self, a feat for which she feels a tremendous pride. With the simple opening of her palm, she can now present her age—Five! Can you imagine?—without ever bending her thumb. Her parents often overlook this incredible development in Claire’s life, still seeing her as the girl with four wiggling fingers, as the walnut nestled in Julia’s stomach. Baby, Baby, Baby.

Claire waves at her mother, as if to say, Five, Five, Five.

“Silly me!” Julia cries. “What I meant to say was: Claire Elizabeth. An honest mistake.”

The correction is enough to earn Claire’s forgiveness. She huffs a petulant “All right,” though she has been waiting for this all week, the moment when her mother’s words begin to change. Their game, with its stories she only sometimes understands, is the key to a world she is slowly (but surely!) approaching.

Claire looks around and searches for their first target.

“Him!” she says, pointing to a man grieving his damaged kite. It lies in the arms of an oak, speared but bloodless, and the protruding branch reminds Claire of summertime splinters. Those little knives of wood, which always wheedle beneath her toes when she dances across the porch, barefoot. (Julia is an expert at removing such splinters. No tweezers needed, just, All better?—and it is. Her fine-boned hands giving Claire’s feet their rhythm again.)

“My. He’s a bit of an odd duck, isn’t he?” her mother says, studying the old man. She tilts her head to the side, as if the angle will reveal the source of his almost-tears, his slumped posture, the very soul within. “Robert! That’s his name. Robert—Owner of Toy Shops.”

Claire giggles with excitement. This has always been her mother’s trick: the divining of lives from the smallest of glimpses. Julia has been known to call it Magic, though Claire has grown more skeptical since the dawn of October 20th. (Magic is, after all, a baby’s word.)

“He’s a recent widower. Do you see how he wears a ring but keeps watching the couple over there?”

Claire does see, and she drafts a mental note for school the next day: Tell Mrs. Heath that Mum is smarter than that scraggly bugger, Albert Whats-His-Face. 

“No children either. He and his wife…his wife…” And just as Claire remembers, Einstein! Julia cries, “His wife, Susan! Dear, dead Susan. Both turned off by the whole business of childrearing. Susan’s mother up and left when she was only three.”

“And joined the circus?”

“Yes. I daresay she joined the circus.”

“Poor Robert, Owner of Toy Shops,” Claire laments. “Poor Dear, Dead Susan.”

“Mhmm, such a shame. Poor Dear, Dead Susan didn’t stand a chance against those wretched measles.” (At this, Claire’s fifth year gives her a sudden rush of gratitude. For Dr. Rawlings, who once stuck her with a vaccination needle. For her mother, who covered the red dot with a Pooh plaster. All better.)

“But why is he flying a kite, Mum?”

“Why, indeed…”

This is a crucial part of their game: where Claire probes with further questions, thereby allowing a detailed history to form. No room for doubt when everything is fully realized—just the growing surety that maybe, maybe their guesses are correct.

“I’d wager he’s quite lonely now, and for the first time in his life, he’s regretting they never had children.” Julia’s voice is so confident, that Claire nearly forgets it’s all a game. Almost believes in the name and the wife and the unborn children her mother has given this sad, old stranger. “Flying the kite is a way to…conjure them into existence. A big What if? Rather maudlin if you ask me.”

Claire cannot make sense of these fancy, foreign terms—conjure? maudlin?—or why anyone would fly a kite for their nonexistent kids. Still, Claire nods, Of course, of course, and plans to comb the ‘c’ and ‘m’s of her father’s dictionary. Ask him, casually, for clarification. (And if Henry were here, he would temper his wife’s candor with a more age-appropriate fantasy; shake his head. Even to her own husband, her mother has always been slightly incomprehensible.)

“Baby,” Julia says, suddenly serious. “Claire. Don’t you dare live to regret a thing. Promise me that if something scares you, you’ll do it.

“I’m not scared of anything,” Claire announces (except spiders and cavities; except Father Christmas burning in the chimney and the night noises coming from her parents’ bedroom). “When Willie Burke stole Jacob’s sausage roll last week, I gave him a wedgie. And he’s two years older than me!”

“A wedgie? God, you are fearless!”

Keep reading

EXO Reaction To You Never Having Your First Kiss And Is Too Shy To Kiss

I do not own any of the gifs or images used on my blog unless stated otherwise.

Warnings?: Uhmm… I can’t think of anything really.
Requests?: Yup, by a precious anon… a long time ago.

Reaction Key:

  • (Y/N): Your Name

Reminder: If you have any request for a reaction, don’t be shy and let me know about it.


Xiumin // Kim Min-seok:

*When you told him everything about you never having a kiss before and being too shy to even kiss him, he laughs at you and gives you a face like he didn’t hear you right. He asked if it was true, and you nodded covering your face from embarrassment. Instantly, he feels bad and assures you that it’s okay and how it’s nothing to be embarrassed about by placing a thumb kiss on your cheek. He even offers to help you learn how to kiss.*

MINSEOK: *Chuckling* “What?… really?”
YOU: *Pouting* “Y-yes” *Cheeks turning red* “Ahhhhh… this is so embarrassing!”
MINSEOK: “Aww, no jagi!” *Kisses his thumb and places it on your cheek* “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about! I’ll teach you if you want, I’ll take it slow. I promise jagi.” *Sweetie Boyfriend*

Luhan // Lu Han:

*At first, he looks at you, like he didn’t hear what you said correctly. You explained to him, why you didn’t want to kiss him, and it was all because you were too shy. Turning into an embarrassed ball, you tried as hard as you can to push the big news away and tried to make him continue the walk. But he stood still, not moving anywhere until you have your first kiss on the spot and with him. You tried once again, but he stayed as the stubborn little deer he is.*

YOU: “Lu, why aren’t you moving? Can’t we go now?” *Tugging his arm but he’s still not moving*
LUHAN: “Ahem, no jagi. We’re staying right here, until you let me be your first kiss”
YOU: “Luhan! Can’t we do this when I’m not an embarrassed wreck in front of everyone!?”
LUHAN: “Did you not hear me? We’re not going ANYWHERE until you get your first kiss with your baobei.”

Kris // Wu Yifan:

*He looks at you like you’re joking around because what just came out of your mouth just surprised him. When you told him from you never having a proper kiss or boyfriend to you being extremely shy to even kiss him really caught his attention. You sat there blushing as he laughs at the truth, but not over you never having a real kiss or boyfriend, it’s over how you’re too shy to kiss him. Soon he stops and scowls at you for being afraid to him, a boy who’s crazily in love with you and just can’t get over the fact you’re too shy to kiss him.

YIFAN: “Wait. What? You’re joking! Right?”
YOU: “N-no…”
YIFAN: *Laughs* “Are you kidding me (Y/N)?”
YOU: “…”
YIFAN: “I love you so much, why in the world would you be afraid?!”

Suho // Kim Jun-myeon:

*He would be begging and asking you, constantly as to why he couldn’t get a smooch from his own girlfriend. When you two started dating, you never told him that you never had your kiss before and now he wants a kiss from you, without realizing you were screaming inside. He started to do aegyo, and continued asking why he couldn’t get a kiss in a very a cute manner. You stared and you found it so cute! You soon spilled, and he dropped the cuteness for a second. He then connected things together before doing the aegyo again for you to allow him to kiss you. *

JUNMYEON: *Starts doing aegyo* “Ahhh jagiya, look how cute oppa is! Please tell me why you won’t give me a kiss!? Please!”
YOU: *Dying from cuteness* “Aisshhh, fine.”
*You Explain Everything*
JUNMYEON: *Stops doing aegyo* “Oh…”
YOU: “Yeah…”
JUNMYEON: *Starts doing aegyo again* “Well, we could change that if you let me give you a kiss! Please! Jagi! Jagi!”

Lay // Zhang Yixing:

*When the secret was out to him, he wasn’t really fazed about your little secret. He understood your reasoning and respected it. You wanted your first kiss to be special and with the right guy. He told you, if you want a real kiss from him, tell him that you’re ready. But as for now, it’s going to be only small kisses from him, which you appreciated very much.*

YIXING: “Ah, I understand.”
YOU: “You do?”
YIXING: “Yes, of course! I respect it baobei!”
YOU: “Aish, thank you, baby. Thank you.”
YIXING: “It’s not a problem (Y/N). But for now on, until you’re ready, it’s going to be only small kisses from me!” *Kiss behind your ear*

Baekhyun // Byun Baek-hyun:

*After explaining to him how you never had your kiss before and all of that, he slowly encourages you to let him be your first kiss. First, he gives you a list of reasons as to why he should be your first kiss, that included “I’m Byun Baekhyun from EXO, famous Kpop group.” He then showers you in sweetness and the cutest aegyo. Soon, you gave in and gave that boy a sweet little kiss. Him being the dramatic person he is, he jumps in surprise, saying it was spicy even though it was the softest kiss ever.*

“Oh jagi! That was so spicy! Who knew you had it in you!? Woohoo!”

Chen // Kim Jong-dae:

*He would be listening to you telling your story with a small smile on his face. As you inched closer to the real reason as to why you won’t kiss him, he still wore that smile, still oblivious to as why you wouldn’t kiss him. Until you straight up told him you never had a kiss before and that’s when his face changed. His smile turned into this very shocked and confused face. He was so surprised, that all he did was blurt out questions as to how in the world didn’t his beautiful girl never had a kiss before.*

“What? How?! How does that happen?! YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL! I don’t get it!”

Chanyeol // Park Chanyeol:

*The topic was brought up from him when the two of you were bored one day. For him, it was easy for him to tell about his experience. Then it was your turn. You were nervous when it came to your answer mostly because you never had one! He notices your struggle and asks what’s wrong and that’s when you told him. He understood instantly, but that didn’t stop him from teasing you, and hinting at that fact he wants to be your first official kiss.*

CHANYEOL: “Oh! I understand. Don’t worry jagi!”
YOU: “Aish, thank you Chanyeol baby. Thank you!”
CHANYEOL: “But you know jagi… I’m right here. Snuggly, squishy and cunie. I kinda am perfect for your first kiss jagiya.”

D.O // Do Kyung-soo:

*He would try to hold in his smile and his small giggles when you first tell him that you never had your first kiss. You have spent the past couple of minutes telling him small snipets of your past calmly and relaxed, but he sadly couldn’t pay attention to your stories. Instead, he was only thinking about how he would eventually be your first kiss.*

“huhuhu… uhm… wow… I can see a kiss in the nearby future (Y/N).”

Tao // Huang Zitao:

*He would find you so cute and pure at your blushy face when you tell him that you haven’t been kissed before. After years of knowing each other, he would have thought you would at least been kissed, but it turns out you haven’t! He starts giving you smug looks, and air kisses ever since then, because his view of cuteness over you has skyrocketed.*

*Blows you a kiss* “To my cunie baby aghhh! hehehe!” 

Kai // Kim Jong-in:

*Once you told him your story about your “almost” first kiss, you ended up blushing and being very flustered. He didn’t notice your flustered, rosy cheeks until he looked up from his Korean pork belly to see your face hidden by your long sweater sleeves. He starts to laugh, not only from your pure innocence but at the fact you’re embarrassed that you still hadn’t had your first kiss. He honestly feels it’s not even a big deal.*

*Laughing* “Oh my god, jagi. It’s no big deal! Don’t be embarrassed!”

Sehun // Oh Se-hun:

*When the secret came out clean, he was instantly teasing you, as a joke of course. Even though he knew it was a bit personal and something crazy, he couldn’t stop himself from teasing you. No, it wasn’t making fun of the fact that you haven’t gotten your first kiss, it was something else. It was more like, him teasing you over how he’s right here, ready to be your first kiss.*

“It’s now or never jagiya.”

A/N: LOOK WHO’S BACK?! Me, Michelle huhuhaha! I’m so sorry for the inactive work on my blog >.< School, friendships, anxiety, and depression has been getting in my way more than ever! But luckily, I’m procrastinating my tutoring homework for this. I have had this reaction in my draft for months and I finally have… the strength? to complete this! I hope the anon who requested this enjoys this, and hope it does well! I tried my very best. I haven’t written one in a very long time, so it’s  going to be crusty haha. Requests are open! Send them in! and I will complete them!! I love you all!! xx

Not A Girlfriend

Summary: Ian stops by Mickey’s work, and everyone finds out that he’s gay.

Word Count: 1036

Notes: Thanks so much for almost 400 followers :) I’m so sorry I meant to post this so long ago and I forgot it was in my drafts


Mickey’s been working at a mechanic shop for the past two months, and he liked the environment, he just prefered to keep to himself. No one really knew anything about him. His coworkers were very friendly and often made small talk with him, but that was the extent of it.

When people did start asking about his personal life, he got anxious and paranoid as usual. “So how come your girlfriend don’t ever come around?” Rich raised his eyebrows at Mickey.

Mickey snorts uncomfortably. “Because I don’t fuckin’ got a girlfriend,” he snapped.

All of the other workers shared the same confused expression. “Then how come you walk in with hickies every week?” Rich asked blatantly.

“And you– who never smiles– walk in with a big grin on your face every morning. That has to be from someone,” his manager, Lydia, presses. Why the fuck are they so nosey?

“Didn’t say I don’t got someone. I do have someone,” Mickey informed them and their eyebrows seemed to raise even higher. They aren’t the brightest bunch so none of them would assume he’s gay.

Rich opens his mouth again. “Well can we meet the girl some day?” He seems over interested which lays weird with Mickey.

Mickey rolls his eyes at their stupidity and gets back to work. He has plan of having Ian drop his lunch off at work one day during the week so people know– because who wouldn’t want to show off the beautiful Ian Gallagher. Anyone who has a problem with it will have to face the two of them.

* * *

Two days later, Mickey walks into work with a genuine smile on his face. Ian gave him the best hummer before he left for work. “That a smile on your face, Milkovich?” Lydia asked with wonderment.

Mickey chucked the middle finger at his manager, but maintained the grin. “Fuck off,” he said with no threat or meanness in his voice.

“Must be that girl you guys were talkin’ about the other day,” Isaac chimed in. He was a nosey little fucker just like the other two.

Lydia shook her head. “He says he don’t got a girl,” she says to Isaac who a baffled tone. “Clearly he does though– I mean c’mon, Mickey, you’re not fooling us.”

“I don’t,” Mickey chuckles and starts working.

The next couple hours go by extremely quickly. When Mickey checks the time he knows that Ian’s going to be here any minute, so as everyone started to eat, he busied himself.

Suddenly the door opened and in came a tall redhead with shining green eyes. “Damn,” Lydia breathlessly whispered which propelled Mickey to make it known that Ian was his.

“Hey, Mick,” Ian started. “I got your–” He gets cut off by a long and welcoming kiss. When they separate there’s a big smile on both of their faces. After all their time together they never really got used to public signs of affection.

Mickey grabs the lunch bag from Ian’s hand. “Thanks for the lunch.” Ian nods.

When the two boys turn their gaze to the other three workers, they have extremely wide eyes.The workers seem to be at loss for words until Rich opens his mouth. “You have a boyfriend?” He asked in shock.

Mickey nods. “I got a fuckin’ boyfriend, and if any of you assholes got an issue with it, say it to my face.” His voice is threatening, and Ian can’t help but smirk from behind him.

“No! We don’t have a problem with it! Just shocked is all,” Lydia comes to her own and her workers defense. “What’s your name, hot thing?” Lydia smiles at the redhead.

He chuckles. “I’m Ian,” he waves at everyone.

Lydia nods and introduces herself and the other workers. “So how long have you been together?”

“Twelve years,” Mickey told them. He was oddly okay with telling them about this private part of his life.

Everyone shocked expressions turn to amusement and even more confusion. “How’s the even possible? You’re still young,” Isaac says in disbelief.

Ian chuckles. “I was fifteen when we got together.” His voice is proud.

“Oh, shit! So you two are like in it for good now,” Rich says. Mickey and Ian both nod, sharing a pleased look. “Who the hell would of thought the scariest and rudest guy in this shop has a soft spot?”

Once again, Mickey chucks the finger at his coworker. He can’t deny the statement though. Ian fondly smiles at the interaction between Mickey and the other workers. “No one ever gets to see that side of him but me,” Ian informed them.

“Wait, wait. I got a real question,” Isaac started with a grin that Mickey immediately rolled his eyes at. The couple knew what question was coming for them. “Who tops?”

Lydia and Rich burst out in laughter at their friends question. “It’s gotta be Mickey!” Rich says.

“Fuck no! It’s definitely Ian. Mickey’s probably a bossy bottom though,” Lydia says in a convincing tone.

The three other workers then stay in an argument about who tops and who bottoms, which Mickey normally gets angry at but he knows it’s all jokes. He turns his head to Ian who is looking at him in an unexplainable way. “The fuck you lookin’ at?”

“Just proud of you. I know you still worry about coming out and all,” he responds. “And it’s nice seeing you interact with people other than our family,” Ian says jokingly, but Mickey knows he means it.

“It’s nice being safe for once,” Mickey says with a dry chuckle before Ian kissed his forehead. He didn’t realize the other three workers ended their pointless argument to watch and listen to them until they heard the sound of Lydia’s joyful shriek.

“Awe,” Lydia dragged out. “My husband doesn’t kiss my forehead like that anymore and we’ve only been together for four years,” she wiped away fake tears to emphasize how cute she thought it was. “So fucking adorable!”

Ian laughed happily and Mickey blushed. Thankful was short of the correct feeling for Mickey right now. Though he wouldn’t outright show it, he was ecstatic that his coworkers accepting him as the person he was.

I started writing this as a response to one of the post-episode messages I got, but it took on a life of its own and well, might as well share. No point keeping it in my drafts, right? Here’s my reaction to the last scene in the finale (short version: I loved it).


We know that for just under two years, Weller’s relationship prevailed and most probably overcame tons and tons of obstacles. We know that their love was stronger than almost everything that they came up against, and that they never stopped being in love, and that at some point Kurt got down on one knee and proposed and that Jane said yes. We know that Jane joined the FBI and they continued to be this unstoppable team that took on the world and put bad people away and kicked butt as leaders and colleagues and as a couple. And just imagine all those times Jane was in danger in the field, or Kurt was in danger, and the other one was losing their mind. Imagine the relief when the other one was okay and imagine how beautiful it must have been not to hide their feelings or their relationship anymore. And they got married. They got married, you guys! Mr. Too Choosy chose Jane Doe. They got married and exchanged vows and wore those rings around their fingers proudly. 

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Zimbits Airport AU Part 2

read it on ao3 here | Part 1

They share earbuds for the rest of their time waiting to board— Bitty’s never been so grateful for his portable charger before. With some time and effort, he takes a page or so of notes on his Food Science reading, but he’s not actually convinced he’s absorbed any of it. His mind is too busy screaming because in a matter of minutes, Jack Zimmermann had met him, come out to him, listened to Beyonce with him, and asked him to come to a hockey game Saturday night. Bitty will be hard put to get any sleep on the flight if this keeps up.

He must have dozed off at some point, because Bitty knows he was just jotting down a couple more notes, but the next thing he knows, his notebook has slid off his lap onto the floor and Jack is tapping his shoulder. “Bitty? It’s almost time to board.”

“Oh, is it?” Bitty says once he’s had a chance to look around at his surroundings a bit more. The people on their flight seem to be the only ones left in the airport, spread out in the chairs or sprawled on the ground to take a nap. “I must have drifted off, sorry.”

And there’s that smile again, considerably wider and brighter than any he’s ever seen from Jack on TV. “It’s okay. But we’re boarding soon, so you might want to pack your things up?”

“Right.”

“What seat do you have?”

Bitty digs his boarding pass out of his backpack. “23C.”

“Oh,” Jack says, looking a bit put out. “I’m in business class.”

“You’d have to be to have enough room to stretch your legs out, now, wouldn’t you?” Bitty jokes, but he understands Jack’s tiny pout, which, by the way, is adorable— moving on. “Not all of us are over six feet tall.”

“No, I guess you aren’t.” Jack frowns for a moment as he thinks, then says, “Wait here” before getting up and going to the desk where the flight attendants are standing, looking as equally bored and tired as their passengers.

Bitty sincerely hopes he isn’t changing his seat to economy. He knows from his teammates (particularly Holster) that for most hockey players, himself excluded, cramming one’s legs into an economy seat is just not feasible for any flight longer than an hour or two. As much as he’d like to be able to sit by Jack during the flight, Jack has a game tomorrow. Surely he should know that’s a bad idea.

He packs up his things anyway, since there are only ten or so minutes until boarding, and watches as Jack discusses something with the flight attendant talking to him. They’re too far away for Bitty to hear a word they’re saying, but he sees the flight attendant nod and Jack smile. He comes back with a piece of paper in hand and offers it to Bitty.

“This is a boarding pass.”

Jack nods.

“With my name on it, and it says business class.”

Jack nods again.

“Jack Zimmermann, I hope you are not saying that you paid to upgrade my seat to business class. I can’t pay you back!”

“I asked them to transfer my frequent flier miles to your account,” Jack says. “There were enough for a free upgrade. Didn’t cost a cent.”

“I am flabbergasted.”

“Oh.” There it is again, the sad eyes that remind Bitty of a puppy and break his heart simultaneously. “I can take it back if you—”

“No, no, I wasn’t saying that,” Bitty says hurriedly. “But… it’s kind of a lot, isn’t it?”

“No, I always fly business class,” Jack says matter-of-factly. “I didn’t have a use for that upgrade anyway. And I wanted to keep talking to you.”

Good lord. Jack is blushing again and Bitty really is not sure he can handle it. What on earth is he supposed to say to that?

“Well, thank you very much, but I hope you don’t regret it,” Bitty’s mouth says of its own will. “I can get very chatty, which I don’t think is desirable for red-eye flights.”

Then he curses himself. That was definitely not the expression of gratitude he wanted to say.

“That’s okay,” Jack says. “I like hearing you talk.”

“You are going to be the death of me if you keep saying things like that, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“I fully intend to.”

The flight attendant calls for first class to board, and then business class and it’s time for them to go. Bitty holds out his new boarding pass to the flight attendant, who smiles at him and Jack and says “Enjoy the flight.”

“We will,” Jack says, and Bitty can’t keep himself from smiling.

(more under the cut)

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Drought- Aaron Ekblad

Originally posted by laurastacey

Ok so seriously Aaron Ekblad has no right looking like that ok? I don’t know what is going on in Florida, but I apparently need some of that water. Anyway! I like how this one turned out and I really hope you guys do too! So enjoy!

Warning: mentions teen pregnancy

Anon Request: One with your son , the 1st nhl draft pick, is having a goal drought and he is really depressed about it and his dad Aaron ekblad helps him out?

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

              You winced as the door slammed shut behind your son.

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Rucas Fic Week 2017

Day Eight// AU + Free Choice: Unwilling and unable to face everyone on her own when it comes time to attend Auggie and Ava’s wedding, Riley Matthews hires a solution in Lucas Friar. Loosely based on The Wedding Date.

Part One II 

Notes: Obviously, this is an AU and it takes place in the future. The characters are adults. While I’m not someone who will ever write smut, and I don’t plan on getting particularly graphic with language or even implications, the vary nature of this story is a bit more adult than what I’ve written previously. I’d place the rating somewhere around a PG-13/14.

Also, this is essentially the first installment to what has started developing into a multi-chapter fic. So this starts a lot of threads and leaves them dangling by the time you reach the end. But you will get answers eventually.

Enjoy!


The invitation comes on a Wednesday and Riley immediately considers throwing it in the trash and pretending she never got it.

It’s not that she hasn’t known it would be coming–Auggie had told her about the engagement weeks ago and asked her to be what he called his ‘Best Sister’–but receiving the invitation makes it real. Auggie and Ava are getting married, they’re holding the wedding in Cape Cod, and Riley is expected to join them and the family for a week of wedding festivities at the end of the summer. Riley could just about throw up at the thought. It’s really the sort of scenario she’s been trying (semi-successfully) to avoid since high school graduation nearly eleven years ago, and if the invitation were from anyone else she probably would crumple it up and pretend it got lost or RSVP with an easy lie about not being able to get the vacation time at work, but this is for Auggie.

The only acceptable reason for Riley not to attend would be massive injury and/or death.

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Hockey Camp - Auston Matthews (Part 20)

Auston Matthews x Reader

Word Count: 2505

Warnings: Swearing (nothing new)

A/N: This is the last part in this fic, however, I am thinking of doing an epilogue/sequel chapter(s) if you guys want me to. Originally I was going to tie everything up here, but then I saw some opportunities I could take with a slightly different storyline, so I’ve left things open-ended. Thank you to everyone who has supported me over this wild journey of 40K+ words in just over a month of writing!!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19]

PART TWENTY

Ten months and seventeen days later…

June 24th, 2016

You’re sitting on your sofa, half-asleep and midway through binge-watching a random tv show on Netflix when your phone goes off.

“Hello?” you answer it groggily. You’re not sure what time it is, as you have blackout curtains drawn tightly over all your windows.

“Hey!” Will replies brightly. “You coming over to watch the draft with Kappy and I? Steph and Mitch just got here.”

Fuck. Today was the day of the 2016 NHL draft, and all you heard about it when you turned on the tv or scrolled through Twitter was how he was going to go first overall.

“Oh, um…yeah. I forgot that was today. I’ll be over in a half hour.” You end the call and toss your phone on the couch before leaning back and letting out a little scream. The last thing you want is to see his face plastered over every media outlet.

But that’s a lie. You’ve been secretly following his progress from the day you both left camp and began your professional careers. Not that you’d ever tell anyone that, as you’ve successfully convinced them all that you’ve moved on from him. The truth is, you miss him. And logically, ten months is more than enough time to get over someone you dated for a few mere weeks, but there’s no logic involved with your feelings towards him. You wish that you could just let go and move on, but a part of you knows that you’ll never be able to.

Sighing, you drag yourself off the couch and over to the bathroom to get ready. Fifteen minutes later, your hair is washed and dried in loose waves, you’ve put on some makeup, and you’re wearing an outfit that makes you look put together and not like all you’ve done the past two days is lay on your couch and watch Netflix.

You head down the elevator and out to the subway station. As you step into the car and sit down, you overhear a discussion between two friends to your left.

“Laine is definitely going first. The Jets will take Matthews.”

“Are you nuts, man? Matthews is first - he’s the Connor McDavid we never got. We don’t need a winger, we need another strong centre like Sundin.”

It’s like you can never escape him.

They continue debating about who will end up as the first first round pick, but you refuse to listen anymore. The ride to Union is only a couple stops, so you shove in your headphones and crank up the volume, turning your attention instead to the advertisements along the top part of the subway.

When you reach Union, you practically leap out of the car and squeeze your way through the throng of commuters climbing the stairs like zombies. Once you finally manage to get outside, you can breathe a little easier. The walk to Will and Kappy’s apartment is a short one, and once you get away from the train station, the volume of people begins to thin out. You’ve never been a fan of crowds, and yet here you are, living in a huge city.

The doorman nods at you. “Good afternoon, Y/N,” he greets you warmly. You’ve been over enough times to Will and Kappy’s place this past year that you’re now on a first-name basis with most of the staff in their building.

“Afternoon, Gerald,” you reply, and thank him as he opens the door for you.

A quick elevator ride up to the top floor and a short walk to the end of the hall and you’re there.

Will opens the door, his trademark grin plastered on his face. “Y/N!” he shouts, and immediately pulls you into a tight hug. “I missed you,” he says more quietly into your ear.

You pull away from him and roll your eyes. “You saw me less than two days ago, Willy.”

He pouts, sticking out his lower lip like a child. “Yeah, but I still missed you.”

You’re not sure where you stand with Will. After everything that happened at camp, you were feeling extremely alone and scared in a new city. Steph had chosen to play for Brampton Thunder, and Mitch had decided to play one more year with the London Knights, so you had no friends around to help you transition.

However, Will had been picked up by the Marlies, and their practice centre conveniently happened to be where you played some of your home games. Your paths crossed often, and the friendly nods and smiles from across the hallways in the Mastercard Centre turned into casual conversation over coffee, and then into watching hockey at each other’s apartments with Kappy often tagging along. The two of them had become your support system, but Will especially had been a rock. You feel like you could open up to him about anything - except for him, of course. You had to keep living the lie that you no longer cared that he had left you.

You sigh, and Will raises an eyebrow. He’s gotten very good at reading your facial expressions, and can tell immediately what mood you’re in just by looking at you. It’s slightly creepy, but also flattering at the same time.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah, I’m all good.” You force a smile on your face, which quickly becomes genuine when Steph runs up to you, squealing in excitement.

“Steph!” you shout and she embraces you in a bone-crushing hug. You haven’t seen each other for several weeks, as you’ve both been busy finishing up your seasons, and you’ve missed her terribly. Not to say that your new teammates aren’t nice and that you haven’t bonded with them, but they just aren’t Steph.

“I have so much to tell you, girl. We need to hang out and get lunch soon - just us two.”

“Yes, for sure! You have to fill me in on everything. I want to hear all about it.”

She smiles. “It’s been so weird without you, I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“I know!” you exclaim. “Every time something hilarious happens, I turn to my right to tell you, and then I get sad when I realize you’re not there.”

“Aw, Y/N,” she says. “Maybe while I’m here we can rent out some ice and get Mitch and Willy and everyone out to play some pick-up.”

“Get Mitch and Willy to do what?” Mitch asks, coming up behind Steph and wrapping his arms around her waist. Steph blushes and he kisses her temple.

“Play pick-up with us,” you explain. “Steph and I were just talking about how much we’ve missed playing together.”

“Yeah, I’m down. I’ll ask around and see if we can get something set-up for this weekend.”

“Okay, awesome!” you say, and you and Steph grin widely at each other.

There’s forty-five minutes left until the draft starts, and you’re preoccupying yourself by helping get dinner ready. Instead of being lazy and ordering take-out or using the latest, ‘I’m a twenty-year-old that still doesn’t know how to cook but I need food’ service app Will has downloaded on his phone, him and Kappy have decided to try to make a meal for everyone.

It isn’t going well.

“Y/N, why is this sauce brown? I think I’ve ruined it. I swear it looked red in the picture,” Kappy whines.

You peer over at his pot, in which a dark brown substance is bubbling ominously. “I don’t think that’s edible.”

“Y/N! You’re supposed to help - not make me feel worse!”

Will laughs from the opposite side of the kitchen, where he’s chopping up vegetables.

“Well, I’m sorry Kappy. I don’t know sugar from salt, so I’m really no help to you.”

“Girls are supposed to be good at this stuff,” Kappy grumbles underneath his breath.

You roll your eyes. “This isn’t the 50’s and I’m not your housewife.”

“Yeah, Kappy,” Will taunts, scraping his vegetables into a bowl and setting them down on the counter beside both of you. “Besides, if Y/N would be a housewife, she’d be mine - not yours.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and bumps your hip with his.

You scoff. “In your dreams Nylander.” You turn back to Kappy and the pot of charred sauce. “Kappy, you should probably scrap that - nobody’s going to want to eat it.”

“But-” he starts, but you give him a look.

“Yeah, okay. I don’t even want to eat this,” he admits in a defeated tone, bowing his head.

“Okay,’ you say, clapping your hands together. “New game plan. Willy, your vegetables are all cut?”

He nods and holds up his bowl proudly.

“Alright, so dump those into the pan with some olive oil and this,” you reach around Will to grab some spices they had bought. “And just sautee those or whatever until they’re cooked enough.”

“Yes ma’am.” He salutes you and starts drizzling oil onto the pan.

“Okay, Kappy. We’re going to make chicken parm.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know anything!”

“Yeah, I don’t,” you say, triumphantly holding up your phone and grinning. “But google does!”

Thirty-five minutes later, you’ve miraculously pulled together a meal, consisting of sauteed veggies, pasta, and some chicken that mostly resembles chicken parmesan. (There were no breadcrumbs, so it’s more just chicken slathered with sauce and mozzarella, but who’s to judge.)

“Guys, are you almost done in there?” Mitch hollers from the living room. He’s been asking every five minutes for the past twenty minutes if you’ve been done yet, and it’s getting on all of your nerves. He’s like the annoying kid in the car who can’t stop asking, ‘are we there yet?’ and drives his parents insane.

“Shut your mouth, Mitchell,” Will yells back at him, and there’s laughter from the living room. Kappy storms out of the kitchen to go threaten Mitch, claiming that if he asks one more time about dinner, ‘he’ll rip his head off.’

The oven beeps and you race over, tugging on oven mitts and pulling the trays of chicken out. Once you set them down on the top of the stove and turn the oven off, you lean back against the counter. You and Will both sigh in relief.

“Who knew cooking for people could be so stressful?” Will says thoughtfully. “I feel bad for my mom.”

“Yeah, same here.” You can hear Kappy and Mitch fighting in the distance, Steph and several of Mitch’s friends cheering them on.

“So…” Will says, leaning up beside you on the counter. “How are you doing?”

You furrow your brow, confused. “I’m good?”

“No, I mean like…with the draft and everything. Because, y’know…” he trails off, giving you a knowing look.

You plaster on your, ‘I’m fine’ face and shrug. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, that’s a straight-up lie,” Will calls you out.

“Will, I’m fine. It’s not an issue.”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Sure. Whenever a girl says they’re fine, they’re obviously not.”

You sigh and look down at your feet.

“See - I knew it!”

“What do you want Will?”

“For you to be happy,” he says honestly, and you look back up to see him staring at you. “You need to move on from him. What he did to you was shitty, and I hate seeing you hung-up on someone who’s only going to make you miserable.”

You bite your bottom lip, holding back tears. “I can’t,” you whisper.

“But you can,” he insists, turning towards you and taking your hands.

“I can’t.”

“Listen, Y/N. I can help you, but only if you’re willing to let me. If you keep shutting everybody out, then you’re never going to be able to get through this.”

“You can’t help, Will.” You drop his hands and wipe away a stray tear. “I’ve accepted that I’m going to feel this way for the rest of my life.”

“That’s because you’re telling yourself that you’re never going to be able to get over him. If you tell yourself that you can, then you will. You’re an amazing girl, and you can achieve anything you put your mind to. I’ve seen it and I believe it.”

You’re suddenly aware that Will is very standing close to you. If he tilts his face down a bit, your lips will touch. Your heart races - out of confusion or anxiety, you’re not sure. Before either of you can move, Kappy walks back into the kitchen.

Will takes a step back from you.

“Did I interrupt something here?” Kappy asks, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” you say at the same time Will says, “Yes.”

“Alright, I see.” Kappy smirks, and you glare at him. “People are getting hangry, I think it’s about time we brought the food out.”

Everyone eats as the pre-draft debates take place, watching as various network hosts argue over the top pick and place bets on who will be drafted to which team. Then, the program starts, the camera panning around the First Niagara Center, filled with young hopefuls and their families. Steph clutches your hand, and you squeeze hers nervously. She knows, even without you telling her, how much you still care for him. Even though you hate him for what he did to you, you still want him to succeed.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the 2016 NHL Entry Draft. We will be getting underway shortly.”

The camera focuses on Toronto’s management staff and several nervous-looking players as the commentator reads out all the stats flashing on the screen. When his face pops up on the screen, your heart jolts, but you manage to keep a calm outer appearance. You can feel Will’s eyes on you. Ignoring him, you keep your gaze straight ahead, staring at the screen intently.

He looks cool and collected, no evidence of nerves or excitement written on his face. He sits, quietly observing everything around him.

The camera flips to Lamoriello, the GM of the Leafs. “For Toronto’s first pick of the 2016 NHL draft, we’re going to have our director of player personnel make that selection - Mark Hunter.”

Mark Hunter, a large bald man in a grey suit, steps up to the microphone. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest, and the sound of blood rushing through your head floods your eardrums. Steph grips onto your hand tightly.

“Toronto is proud to announce, from Zurich Men’s League Switzerland and the U.S. program, Auston Matthews.”

The crowd roars. The living room erupts in cheers, Mitch jumping up and doing a little dance, but you sit, rigid and unmoving on the couch.

All you can do is watch as Auston hugs his family before he climbs up onto the stage. He shakes everyone’s hand and then takes the Toronto Maple Leafs’ sweater offered to him.

As he slides the jersey over his head, the crowd cheers its approval.

It’s been decided: Auston is coming to Toronto.

[Epilogue: Part A]

swim au

im on a fucking rolllllllllll 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

ao3

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