#chai talks hockey
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#yeah#stars lb#how embarrassing#dallas stars#chai talks hockey#stanley cup playoffs#nhl western conference finals#scp 2023#wcf 2023
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2003: a dbf odyssey
a @chloeangelic x @macfrog fic
greetings greetings one and all. welcome to the fucking circus. chloe cupcake and i have a gift for you. we put our heads together, took turns writing a classic dbf fic, and here is the hellscape we created. please enjoy.
[this is entirely satirical and just for funsies. no harm intended. no tw discourse required. love u]
pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. and that's all we have to say on that
warnings: unspecified age gap, tale set in 2003, female masturbation, creepy joel, praise kink, size kink, fingering, unprotected piv, degradation, angst!
word count: 4.6k
chloe's masterlist | max's masterlist
The sun shines through the window of your childhood bedroom. You’re still reeling from an argument you just had with your mom, over the degree you just spent four years and fifteen grand on. She doesn't understand your passion for fossils, she never has, and during every family function, only one person asks you how school is going.
Joel Miller, your dad's best friend.
He’s tall. Broad. He’s built like a Dorito. Flamin’ Hot Cool Ranch. He drives a truck and he listens to dad rock. One time you saw him in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. You asked what that was, and he said it was a band from “before your time, darlin’”. You swooned at the pet name.
He’s quiet and unassuming. Lingers on the outskirts of every gathering your parents throw. He likes to talk about construction, and wood carving, and little else. At least, that’s what you thought, before you came back home after graduating.
Suddenly, he started glancing in your direction every time you came into the room wearing a tight little top with significant cleavage. He would clear his throat at dinner and wipe a bead of his sweat from his forehead at BBQs.
You always called him Mr Miller, and ever since graduation, that name made him blush. Last Thanksgiving, when his family was over for dinner at your parents’ house, you started asking him about old movies, and he grumbled, then told you about 2001: A Space Odyssey.
He said he couldn’t believe that a girl with a paleontology degree had never seen A Space Odyssey before. Promised he’d show you it sometime. ”Smart girl like you will love it,” he said.
You had opened your mouth to respond, to lend him the quirkiest retort you could think of, when your dad had bumbled into the room, shoving you out of the way. He brought up the latest Austin Ice Bats game, took Joel up in a conversation you couldn’t be a part of - you knew nothing about minor league ice hockey.
Your mom called you through to the kitchen and asked you to help her with dinner. When you came into the kitchen, she started asking you if you’d gone on any dates recently, if there were any cute guys in your college classes.
You rolled your eyes, “No, mom, none of them are my type.”
She huffed while handing you a pot of mashed potatoes, “What’s your type then?”
You didn’t want to tell her that your type was older men. Really old, in their fifties. Your type was Joel, but you couldn’t tell her that. Instead, you described what you thought Joel might’ve looked like when he was younger. “Brown hair, beards maybe,” you said, and turned on your heel before walking into the dining room and setting the pot on the table.
You glanced over the place settings. Your mom had already put down everyone’s drinks. Yours and Sarah’s - a glass of water each. She says water helps with clear skin. Her own - a white Russian cocktail. And your dad and Joel’s, side by side - two beers, dripping with condensation. You paced around the table, formulating a plan.
As your mom’s voice drew nearer down the hallway, you quickly switched Joel’s beer for Sarah’s water, sitting him next to you.
When he came into the dining room with your father, you noticed that Joel was looking at you with dark, sultry eyes. He gave you a tight lipped smile as he sat down in his chair, then turned to your mother, “Looks great.” You felt his knee knock into yours under the table, but he didn’t move away. Heat pooled in your stomach. Your chest tightened, threatening to burst from the confines of your tight t-shirt.
The same t-shirt you’re wearing right now - sat at the end of your bed. Remembering the way his denim jeans felt on your bare leg. You lie back on your sheets and stare at the ceiling, thinking of his swollen muscles under his flannel shirt. The tuft of chest hair sprouting from over the collar. The veins in his hands as he passed you the salt.
You were holding a pair of jeans in your hands, about to slide them over your legs when you looked down to see a wet spot in your panties, and now you can’t ignore the throbbing in your core at the thought of seeing him again.
You carefully trace your fingers over your panties, grazing the wet spot, feeling your cheeks burning from the awareness that it’s your dad’s best friend making you wet.
You lift the skirt of your barleycorn sundress and open your legs, knees wide on your springy mattress. You hope that it doesn’t make a sound as you push the fabric aside, dragging your fingers over your most sensitive spot.”Joel,” you whimper when your fingertip brushes your wet opening, but you’re startled when you hear the doorbell ringing.
You pull your hand out quickly and your eyes flare open, chest heaving. You sit up, throw your legs over the side and slip on your jeans, button them up and turn to look at yourself in the mirror before heading downstairs, feeling the low throb deep inside of you as you carefully walk out into the hallway and hear your father greeting Joel as he comes in the door.
“Howdy,” he says when he spots you descending the staircase.
You hold tight onto the handrail, afraid you might topple over from the sight of him and the fluttering between your legs. “Hi.”
Joel’s eyes travel from your face down your body, ending up on your legs. You suddenly feel self-conscious, but all the same, secretly thrilled that he’s staring at you in this way. You stare back, eyeing him up and down from his scruffy beard to his dusty lace-up boots. Your eyes meet again as you reach the bottom step.
Joel sniffs once. “The hell are you wearing a dress and jeans for?” he asks.
“It’s called fashion,” you sass, and he grunts in response. “Ready to watch the movie?”
“I’m readier than a fried egg on the San Antonio Boulevard sidewalk, darlin’.” There’s that pet name again. You bite your lip and walk into the living room, trying to regulate your breathing. Your dad is already on the couch, remote control in hand, saying he has rewinded the DVD and that the two of you are being slowpokes.
“The old man’s got jokes,” Joel grumbles, motioning for you to sit down in between him and your dad.
The three of you put your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. You angle your feet towards Joel’s, your pinkie toe nudging against the sole of his boot. He crosses his ankles and settles back into the couch, folding his arms and prodding your side with his elbow.
“It’s a classic,” he mutters, and you giggle.
Your dad’s head whips around to face you from your peripheral like he is watching a tennis match. “What’s so funny?” he bleats.
“Nothing,” you and Joel chime, focusing hard on the screen. You smile smugly at the fact that you have an inside joke with him, something just between the two of you.
You can’t focus on the movie when your dad turns it on, and you suspect that Joel can’t either by the way he shifts around in his seat. “Got ants in your butt, buddy?”, your dad snorts, and Joel waves dismissively while you stifle your laughter.
“Just feel like I’m sinkin’ into the couch here,” Joel says, “‘S too soft.”
Soft, you replay the way he says it, over and over in your mind. You wonder if he’ll think you’re soft if he touches you with his rough hands.
“This movie sucks,” you announce, halfway through. “I can’t believe I had never heard of it. I thought it only came out two years ago?”
Joel snorts. “It came out in 1968 and was directed by Stanley Kubrick, dingus. 2001 is just the title of the film.”
Your face flushes fifty shades of fuchsia. Your dad guffaws on your left side, clapping his hands together like an annoying seal. His laughter is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear his cell phone ringing until you point it out to him.
“Yellow,” he says as he answers, and chuckles at his own joke, then holds up his finger and turns to the side, mumbling something into his phone. “Be there in twenty,” he says, then hangs up, and turns to you and Joel, “Gotta go pick up your mom but I should only be about forty five minutes as long as she doesn’t drag me into a conversation with her girlfriends. Y’all gonna be okay here?”
You both nod and sit still as your dad groans and gets up from the couch, listening as he disappears into the hallway to put on his shoes and jacket, then the door shutting.
You go to grab the remote control to keep playing the movie, and accidentally spill some of the Coke from the can you’re holding. Joel is looking at the screen while you look at the dark stain on the couch cushion, and instead of getting up to get a paper towel to clean it with, you scoot a little closer to Joel.
He clears his throat and puts his hand on the back of the couch, right behind your shoulders, not saying a word. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife and you glance down at his crotch to see the bulge in his jeans, then look up at him.
He looks at you for a second, then furrows his brows, “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”
“Thinkin’ about bones.”
“Bones?”
“Specifically the one in your pants, Mr. Miller,” you say and bat your eyelashes, and then, “Just kidding.” You turn your head back to the TV but you can see that he’s still looking at you. “I was actually thinking about the Micropachycephalosaurus.”
“What did you say ‘bout my pants, darlin’? Could swear you said somethin’”
“Nothing, I promise,” you giggle and look away.
Then his hand comes to your thigh, long fingers splayed over your jeans, thumb tracing back and forth, igniting a flame inside of you.
“W-what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”, you ask nervously, feeling the heat pooling in your panties again, and this time, it’s not because of your imagination.
“Lookin’ real pretty tonight,” he says, and his other hand comes to your shoulder. You whimper at his touch. “Can just call me Joel, you know that,” he scolds with a wink.
“Th-thanks, Joel.”
You feel his hand come up under your chin with a featherlight touch, turning your face up to meet his eyes. He brushes his thumb over your cheek and your face feels hot, your heart beating fast.
He looks at you through big brown eyes. You blink softly back, trying to transmit a code to him to clue him in on the ache making your thighs clench. You wonder if he knows Morse.
Joel grips your jaw and leans in, his smoldering eyes flashing between yours and your lips. He purses his own and before you know it, his warm mouth is flush against yours, his tongue pushing inside. He licks along the rim of your teeth and you open your jaw, letting him explore your wet gums.
In an instant, you pull yourself on top of him and remove his flannel, ripping the buttons apart and scattering the cloth to the couch. Joel’s hands curve around your round tits, he rolls your pebbled nipples between his thumbs like fiddling with a console controller. You roll your hips forward with a moan.
He's so hard. You look at him with wide eyes and a pout, “You're so hard.”
“Are you wet f’me, pretty girl?”, he asks. You know it's wrong, your dad could be home any moment, but you frantically nod.
“Good girl,” he says, and traces his fingers along the edge of your jeans, barely making contact with your skin.
He stands from the couch in one fluid motion, and you squeal at the sudden way in which you’re lifted in the safe grasp of his arms. It’s astounding how strong he is. How able he is to sweep you into the air, carry you out of the living room. How his biceps bulge as his boots thud up the stairs one by one.
He reaches the landing and pauses, eyes scanning the four closed doors. He steps forward and kicks open the one closest to your bodies, before realizing it is the bathroom and reversing out again.
“Pardon me,” he mumbles an apology, and you giggle again.
“It’s the one on the right,” you instruct, and he shuffles down the hall carpet before bumping your door open. He pauses for a moment when he enters the room - your childhood bedroom.
“Haven't been in here in years,” he says, and you know he's referring to when he helped your dad take out the old closets and replace them with new ones. You still have the same closets. Maybe he's admiring his work. You look at the posters on the wall and your floral bedspread.
Then he lays you down on the bed and sighs. “These old knees,” he grumbles, “And my fuckin’ back.”
You giggle.
“Mind if I take this off, darlin’?”, he asks, gently tugging at the bottom of your barleycorn sundress. You nod again, feeling your face getting hot and your panties sticking to your pussy.
Your back arches as he slips the thin fabric from your body, your breasts spilling out of their polyester prison. Joel straightens up, admires the view and hums to himself.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muses, then bends again to press his body against yours. His fingers tussle with the waist of your jeans, the petite buttons only women's clothing seems to have, and you growl at the effort it takes for him to derobe you.
“I know,” he says, lips close to your ear, “‘S these big ol’ hands. They get in the way of everythin’, baby.”
You whimper pathetically, wanting nothing more than those big hands to get in the way of you. You shove your fists beneath the denim when he finally undoes the zipper, and help him drag them from your legs. As soon as the heavy fabric hits your floor, Joel’s removing his own jeans. Now, only your underwear and his separate you.
There's a wet spot on his boxers already and you whimper when you place your fingertip on it, biting your lip when he growls at the sensation. “M-Mr. Miller,” you whine, “Can I see your cock? It looks really big.”
“‘S real big, sweetie, are you sure you can handle it?”
“Y-yes, Joel, I'm a big girl.”
“‘F you say so,” he grumbles, then takes off his boxers, and you admire the sight of his manhood. You've never seen a big cock like that, a real thick and long one. You don't think it'll fit inside and you gasp, eyes flashing open while you start to creep backwards on the sheets.
“Keep the panties on,” Joel orders, following between your legs. His hairy knees push deep into the plush cushion of your mattress, his fist jerks slowly up and down his dick, which seems to only grow larger the closer he gets.
You nod obediently, biting your bottom lip. Your eyes stick on the dribble of precum he swipes with his thumb. You fall back, head sinking into your pillows, and Joel hovers over you, one hand by your head.
You peel your underwear to the side, now positively soaked. Joel’s hand leaves his member to cup you, feeling your dripping mess. “So wet f’me,” he whispers, and you moan, long and ragged.
Then he touches the tip of his finger to your opening and watches you squirm while he starts to push it in, entering you with one thick finger. You take all of it in stride, and you frown when he retracts it.
“So eager,” he says triumphantly, then adds another, and you feel the coil inside you start to tighten. You can't reach as deep as he does, nobody can except for him. Your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. Tears start pricking your eyes as you get closer.
You whine, “I’m gonna come, Mr. Miller.”
He clicks his tongue, “Just Joel,” and then he picks up the pace of his fingers, pushing them inside you until you gush all over your sheets and his hand, feeling the tears sliding down your temples and your fists gripping the sheets tightly. He made you come, it's like a wet dream.
You gasp when you see the mess you made and he chuckles. “Sorry Just Joel - I mean,” you shake your head, clearing the hazy fog of sex your orgasm left behind, “Joel.” Your cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“No need to apologize, sweet girl,” he whispers, pinching your cheek with his soaked fingers. Your own cum stains your skin, somehow cooling against the stifling hot air in your room. The air filled with lust and sex.
He draws his hand back, wraps it back around his cock, rubs your gleaming slick up and down his thickness. He groans as you coat him, head tilting back to the ceiling. For a second, you wonder if he will actually fuck you, or if he’s just here to jerk off using your cum, kneeling over you.
Your query is answered when he returns his gaze to yours and leans over you again, running the tip between your folds. Your body jolts at the contact, overstimulated and spent already. But Joel doesn’t care. The man gives no fucks.
“Fuckin’ tight,” he groans as he makes space for himself inside you, pushing the head in and impaling you on his fat girth. You feel so full.
He bottoms out and moans. You watch a drop of sweat gliding from his hairline and down his temple, then crane your neck up to kiss it. His tip kisses your cervix on every thrust and you grip his broad shoulders, hanging onto him while he pounds you.
“Good girl, takin’ this big fat cock,” he praises, panting into the crook of your neck.
“Oh, fuck,” you feel the band inside of you tightening, about to snap, but then he pulls out of you and wraps his fingers around his cock again, stroking himself and snarling when he tells you to turn around.
You’re spent, limbs wrung out like a rag, but you force yourself up while you look at his cock dumbly, seeing his precum dripping out and onto your sheets. Suddenly, you hear him, “What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart?”, and you immediately turn around and onto your hands and knees, seeing a photo of your parents on your window sill.
You screw your eyes shut so you don’t think about them, and try to focus on Joel penetrating you from behind in one motion, going full hog, filling you to the brim with cock. “F-feels so good, Joel,” you squirm and moan while he slips his large hands onto your hips, fingers splaying out over the curve of your asscheeks, pulling you back so he can fill you relentlessly.
His skin slaps against yours, the air in the room quickly filling with nothing but the sounds of his moans and yours, his wet and yours, his body and yours. Your eyes squeeze tight until you see stars, raining down over the darkness behind your eyelids. Your whole bed shakes vigorously with the rate Joel pounds into you, mattress knocking against your nightstand and sending the objects on it tumbling to the floor.
Joel notices as one in particular - your Satisfyer Pro 2 Gen 2 Air Pulse Stimulator, which you find good but really intense with its sucking power - rolls across the wooden floor. His grip tightens on your hips and he chuckles. “‘S a good girl like you doin’ with a thing like that in her room, huh?”
Your back curls. You moan in response. “Umm,” you mumble nervously, trying to think of a response when you see his lips curve into a smirk, “I- I was trying to come, last night.”
“Oh yeah? Thinkin’ bout what, young lady?”
Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You were thinking about him. He can tell - he brushes his thumb over your cheek. “Were you thinkin’ about me, darlin’?”, he asks, and you don’t respond. You look at him with wide eyes. “‘S alright, I’ve been thinkin’ about this tight little pussy, blowin’ my load in the shower. I ain’t ashamed to admit it, you’re a real pretty girl.”
Your pussy gets wetter when you think about him touching himself and you wonder how it looks. Your dad would kill him if he knew, and you’re surprised Joel would tell you something like that, but it makes you so wet.
The image in your mind forces you to arch your back, your body curving before Joel into the mattress. He grunts each time his hips come into contact with the plushy meat of your ass, telling you good girl and squeezing you just right as his cock hits you so deep you feel him in your chest.
“I’m - gonna - cum - again,” you pant, words muffled by the floral pattern your lips are smushed into. “Joel - I’m -”
“I hear ya, baby,” he says, hips snapping. His voice is rough, hoarse. He sounds like he needs some NyQuil. You make a mental note to offer him a refreshing glass once you’re done. “Cum for me, go on. Know you need it.”
Your walls close around him as you do as he says, tightening around the intrusion in your pussy.
His cock begins to twitch deep inside you and he shoves you by the ass off of him. You tumble to the bed and roll over just in time to be drowned by his cum, thick white ropes spraying all over your tummy and tits. You worry with the ferocity of his release that it might reach the photo of your parents, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure of the moment, your own spend spilling out of your tight little hole.
“Fuck yeah,” he groans, “Take that cum.” Then, all of a sudden, his face drops and he freezes in place. He looks at you, covered in his semen, then runs his hand over his face and tucks himself back in his pants. He looks stressed as it dawns on him that he just came all over his best friend’s daughter.
“Joel,” you say carefully.
“Yes, darlin’”. He winces when the word leaves his mouth.
“W-what if my dad finds out?”
He runs his hand over his beard. “I don’t know,” he says, “I gotta go.”
“But w-wait, Joel!”
He’s already shuffling out of your room, hopping as he tugs his jeans back over his hips. “M’sorry, baby, I have to-”
“Wait!” you yelp, tearing your underwear from your body. You almost trip over the fabric as you hop down from your bed. “Take these!”
You throw the panties across your room and Joel catches them against his chest, scrunching them into a ball. You sit back on your heels, totally naked in front of him, smirking at the thought of him crossing paths with your dad in the hallway and knowing the secret he holds in his jeans pocket. Knowing that he just fucked his best friend’s daughter, in her childhood bedroom.
His cheeks heat with shock. Your panties are dripping wet. He nods and tucks them into his back pocket and adjusts the crotch of his pants over his still hard cock.
Suddenly, you hear the front door opening.
Your parents are home.
You gasp and fumble with your jeans, trying to put them on with shaky hands while you hear Joel step onto the first floor, just leaving the staircase as the door shuts behind your parents as they come in.
“Hey, buddy,” your dad calls, and you hover at the top of the stairs. “What- whatcha doin’ with your shirt off?”
Joel stammers, scratching the back of his neck. Your mom stares at him, eyes raking up and down his hairy torso. You feel a hot pang of jealousy at her wandering eyes on the man you just fucked.
“She, uh,” he motions up to you, now stepping slowly down the stairs, “She spilled her drink down my shirt.” He reaches for the crumpled flannel, whipping it in his hands and throwing it over his shoulders.
Your mom tsks. “So clumsy,” she says, shaking her head. “Did you get it cleaned alright?”
Joel nods, jumping a little when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs by his side. He’s still buttoning the shirt. “Yeah, all cleaned up. Thank you, ma’am.”
You feel a surge of excitement shoot through your veins, feeling your wet leaking out onto your jeans and knowing what lives in Joel’s pocket. You sway back and forth, hands clasped behind your back, smiling innocently.
“Sweetie,” your mom calls over, “Why don’t you go walk Joel to his truck?”
“Y-yes, mom,” you stutter, and motion for Joel to walk ahead of you.
“Have a good night,” he says and pats your dad on the back on his way out.
You watch every one of his heavy footsteps down the hall and out of the house, slipping on your Crocs before you follow him out, closing the door behind you.
The two of you linger outside of his truck for a moment. He looks over your shoulder, squinting in the Texas sun as he looks towards the house. You look at the gray in his beard, the curve of his nose and his salt and pepper hair.
Part of you hopes he’ll ask to see you again, but he’s your dad’s best friend, it could never work. He kicks a small rock with the toe of his boot, arms folded. He leans against the truck and looks up at the sky.
Your stomach flutters at the sight of him and the feeling of his sticky cum on your stomach, gradually absorbing into your skin.
“Guess I’ll see you ‘round,” he says and straightens up. He purses his lips while he looks away, then at you.
You giggle and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Um, yeah.”
“Then I’ll teach you a lesson ‘bout not payin’ attention while watchin’ a movie,” he says, and his voice is sultry and raspy. His fingers are around your chin, tilting your face up to him. “You’ve been a bad girl, lettin’ your dad’s buddy fuck you like a little slut.”
Your lips smush between his finger and thumb. “Yesh, Mr. Miller,” you push between your teeth.
“The hell’d I tell you? It’s Joel.”
You nod fervently. “Yesh, Jool.”
He releases you and opens the truck door, eyeing you constantly as he gets in.
You pick at your nails nervously as you watch him start the truck, and then drive away.
You lean against your parents’ Honda Civic and look up at the sky, closing your eyes and sighing. Your teeth come to bite your lower lip into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue. Your dad’s best friend.
He promised he would teach you a lesson. You wonder what the lesson is.
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#the last of us#tlou#tlou fic#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel
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hockey player!ghoap x smm!reader thoughts
just thinking about how you’re a social media manager for a new hockey expansion team. johnny and simon — who grew up playing hockey together — both got drafted to the pros but have never played on a team together before. they’re both selected for this new franchise — the first time they’ve played together since they were kids.
simon is a defenseman. big, hulking — he’s the guy that's going to initiate fights with the players that are picking on his teammates. you aren’t going to get away with a dirty hit when he's around — he will retaliate. he will dish out a big clean hit when they think they’re safe. especially if it’s johnny. he’s the team enforcer, but still a talented defenseman.
johnny is your center star. he’s wicked fast on the ice, and is always showing off with plays you think are near impossible. he’s surprisingly humble — giving credit where credits due, passing to his teammates when they’re open instead of taking a wild shot himself. he’s the chatty one, always talking up the press during intermission and after the games over.
(and ofc we have gaz as a winger and price as the old goaltender close to retirement, who just can’t give up the game yet)
you were hired with a batch of social media managers in order to promote this new team to the locals. you want to attract season ticket holders. you want people excited for the upcoming season. you want people to meet their players — even though most of them have a history on the ice.
you’re really good at your job. your main job is keeping up with the videos and pictures of the team and players — creating the content that gets posted. your coworkers laswell responds to the fan tweets and comments — she’s got more of a knack for that, where you have the creative eye.
part of your job is getting to know the players and getting them to open up to you on camera, especially when you’re recording. you have them follow along to the latest tiktok trends, record practice sessions and even what time everyone shows up to the arena (simon is early, price is right on time, gaz and johnny are running late). normally your job would be staying on home ice — not following the team when they’re away — but to keep up with content the owners request you specifically go along. it’s been a total hit online and tickets are selling like hotcakes.
you start to really get to know the team — you fly with them and stay in the same hotels. you’re with them at every practice. they start requesting you be the dj at practice even. it helps loosen them up. you get great content. you joke with them. you even stand at the bench during games. (content content content)
johnny of course chats you up first. he's easily to film and he’s your star. he’s the one generating the views and likes and hearts and comments. he’s the one everyone’s excited to see. he’s the first to jump on a new trend you want to film and he’ll encourage everyone to do the same. he’s the only reason that you get simon to be on camera. (and he still won’t go on camera much, rather you have to get shots of him on the ice)
they do their best to include you in everything, but especially when they’re at an away game. if the boys are going out for dinner, johnny will make simon knock on your hotel room door and convince you to join. (you don’t take a lot of convincing, however johnny has to pour simon a stiff bourbon to work up the courage to go ask you). you’re included in celebrations when the team wins. they drag you to one of the guy’s houses for a private dinner and drinks.
johnny and simon start to separately invite you to things — just the two of them. it’ll start off as johnny acting like he has a great new idea for content. he and simon did grow up together, they are best friends. they could have a great little segment together.
but it turns into more. they sit on either side of you. johnny brushes a hand against your thigh and rests it there. simon has an arm on the back of your chair, always keeping his body in the way of any potential threats. always keeping you safe. their sweet little puck slut princess. their hands are all over you by the end of the night.
they take you to a shared hotel room — after all it would be irresponsible for any of your to drive home. and johnny and simon share everything. they’re happy to share a room.
they’re happy to share you.
#cherry’s hockey playoff thots™️#call of duty#cod x reader#ghoap#ghoap x reader#ghoap au#ghoap fic#ghoap x you#ghoap fluff#ghoap smut#simon ghost x you#johnny mactavish x reader#ghost x reader#johnny mactavish x you#ghost x soap x reader#my work
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15 questions, 15 mutuals
tagged by @woodswit 💌
whose blog ive been lurking on for a bit now and whose book is near the top of my tbr so i will hopefully get to talk about soon!
1. are you named after anyone?
first name not really (tis a common noun so kinda?), but middle name is feminized version of my mum's dad
2. when was the last time you cried?
the other day from a book i think?
out of the crying everyday phase now that we're a couple weeks out from breakup so thats a yay
3. do you have kids?
i'm pretty young so no. but, i have always wanted them (got called maternal from a very young age, we don't have to talk about what that did to my psyche)
4. what sports do you play/have played?
did very minimal karate, ballet, gymnastics as a kid and then played soccer into highschool until i was too concussed <3
5. do you use sarcasm?
actually something im trying to lean on less - i try to be a kind person and find i lean on sarcasm as a defense mechanism even when its not how i want to be interacting with people
6. what's the first thing you notice about people?
probably something cliché like eyes but also the energy they are giving off and if they have humour about them, if that makes sense? not sure how to explain it other than some people are just heavier or lighter beings
7. what’s your eye colour?
dark brown, i used to not really like them but got this insane text from a guy friend™️ once so there's that
8. scary movies or happy endings?
firmly happy endings, im an absolute p*ssy with a pension for nightmares so keep scary shit away from me
9. any talents?
I'm a good talker, always could improv a speech or articulate my point well which has come in pretty handy in academic writing
i also can solo the shit out of a canoe so
10. where were you born?
born and raised in the same canadian city
i like to leave breadcrumbs of mystery
11. what are your hobbies?
reading and talking about books generally, watch quite a few sports with varying degrees of intensity (love hockey but have had a harder time with it over the past few years with how bad the culture is), a lot of time looking at/talking about politics but thats also my degree
also not sure if it counts but i really do love being a part of fandom/internet spaces
12. do you have any pets?
a family dog back home with my parents!
13. how tall are you?
about 5'9 which i think is pretty tall and i am very self conscious about
14. favourite subject in school?
oo it shifted a lot over time. i loved math early on because i picked it up really easily but that was a really hard subject to maintain when i was in and out of school for health reasons. so it moved to the humanities/lib arts
always enjoyed english and I'm a Politics, Philosophy, and Economics(bleh) major so do with that information what you will
15. dream job?
aha thinking about the future is terrifying. i'd really like to teach in the polisci field just because i have so many thoughts about the importance of education there but every now and then i consider being a librarian
or the younger wife of a rich man who wants to give me his money for books and philanthropy would work too
absolutely zero pressure tags of those i love and/or would love to get to know better: @chai-isms @ceilidho @ohbo-ohno @heatherdewhoney @ghosts-cyphera @winterrose527 @thegoodbutter @bluemoonjeans
and anyone else who would like to but im shy and terrified of annoying people (ill bring it up to my therapist)
#tag games!#guy friends amiright#i find learning about the little people in my phone's majors or degrees so interesting#like yes slay the queens with crazy stem backgrounds who also have time to write incredible smut#i am a humble social science girly in awe of you
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sweetie pie honey muffin congrats on 1k!!! may i please have a lead me to the garden chai cookie of the oak variety with one mister ryan graves? love youuuuuuu 🥰🤩🥳
thank you so much my love!! love you to the moon! and i went a little more cutesy fluffy for this oak chai cookie. hope you love it!
word count: 0.8k
You loved your boyfriend, Ryan. You really did.
You swear you did.
But sometimes, you wondered what the hell you got yourself into.
And yes, some people might think that you were talking about the distance, his travel schedule, the packing and moving, the lack of stability. But right now, you were talking about the fact that this man woke you up at the crack of dawn… to go on a run with him.
It was partially your fault. You mentioned to Ryan that you would love to be a little more active, get some more exercise. And Ryan – your sweet golden retriever boyfriend – took that off-handed comment and ran with it.
Literally.
No, like he was legitimately running ahead of you on the Nova Scotia beach and you were struggling behind him, your feet sinking beneath the sand, even though Ryan had the foresight to have the two of you run on the smooth packed edge of low tide.
You had been doing alright or at least you thought you had. It was different at first but you were sure you could handle it. But now, after only 8 minutes of this, you were ready to collapse into the wet sand and stay there until the waves washed you away.
“Come on babe, keep up!” Ryan shouts to you and you can hear the playful tone of his words but oooh boy, you were ready to fight him. Add kickboxing to your exercise repertoire.
“I hate you!” you reply, your own tone light but there was a slight truth to your words. Thankfully, Ryan doesn’t take offense, like he never did, and just laughed before smiling back at you.
“I know.”
You huff with your own strained laughter as you dig your feet into the unsteady ground and propel yourself forward, knowing that Ryan would never push you too far. You manage to last for what feels like another two minutes before your pace is slowing and you’re calling out to your boyfriend again.
“Ryan,” you whine, the high-pitch helping to cut through the sound of crashing waves. “This is so difficult. Like why did you have me run on sand?”
“Adds resistance! Really works your lower body and helps your balance.”
“Is that why you hockey players like it. Helps you balance on your knife shoes?”
“Something like that,” Ryan chuckles, slowing down his pace until you’ve caught up to him.
“Well, I…” you huff out, reaching out to grip Ryan’s forearm, halting both him and yourself before you lean forward, your chest heaving. “Oh, I can’t do this. This is exhausting.”
“I know you can do it. Just a few more minutes and then we can take our sweet time walking back to the car.”
“Babe, I don’t think I’m cut out for this. This is what you do every morning?”
“Yeah, I really like it. Training with a view, y’know? But I promise, if you end up absolutely hating this, you never have to do it again.”
“You swear?” you genuinely ask, looking up at him and still slightly hating him. But now, you’re hating him for the way the sunlight hits his pale skin and highlights the cut of his jaw.
“Absolutely,” he smiles at you and if your legs didn’t already feel like jelly, the action would have you weak in the knees. “But I know you can make it. You’re stronger than you think.”
The words soften your resolve and you stretch your body upright, sighing deeply as the salt air fills your lungs and the breeze from the ocean cools the sweat on your skin. You eyes open to find Ryan still staring at you, waiting for your answer. The bemused huff falls from your chest as you playfully glare at Ryan.
“Why are you so good at sweet-talking me?”
“Must be the Gemini,” he says and you can’t stop the laugh that falls from your lips.
“Okay, five more minutes,” you concede and Ryan’s grin grows more as he turns to take off again. But before he can, you stop him with a grip on his forearms. “But… we’re getting frozen yogurt after this.”
“Deal.”
You do manage to stick it out for the next five minutes, managing to reach the small beach that Ryan had planned your route to. Soon you found yourself walking back to the car, your shoes in Ryan’s hand, the rising tide lapping around your ankles, and the small cup of vanilla fro-yo in your hands.
And when you looked out over the ocean, the sunrise painting the beach a hazy pink and orange, you were startled to realize that you might start to enjoy these types of mornings with Ryan.
But maybe next time, the two of you could try yoga instead.
#1k cele bakery#nicole writes#ryan graves fluff#ryan graves blurb#pittsburgh penguins blurb#(another one that still feels weird)#nhl blurb#hockey blurb#i feel like ryan needs to be characterized as a golden retriever more often#and it's one of my favorite tropes so#sorry not sorry for including it
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Everyone on desiblr be posting their dating fantasies about chai dates and dupatta phansa and kurta and then there’s me and my two lackeys sitting like a little mob in the corner talking about whether its actually possible kisi ki taang ke chaar tukde karna with a hockey stick
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Thank you @arsi-lehkonen for the tag! 😘
favorite time of year: I don't know... Maybe it's the first day of spring when I step out the door and I'm hit by the warm air.
comfort food: Cliché, but pizza
favorite dessert: Somlói galuska (Hungarian Trifle)
things you collect: stickers, star wars-related decorations
favorite drink: I’m a big tea-girl. I like many different kinds of tea, from plain black tea to chai lattes, but I think my favourite is forest fruit tea (I don't drink tea for the caffeine :) ).
favorite musical artist: Garbage
last song you listened to: I Don’t Wanna Talk (I Just Wanna Dance) by Glass Animals
last movie you watched: Thor: Love and Thunder in a cinema
last series you watched: I rewatched the 1995 Pride and Prejudice miniseries.
series you’re currently watching: Nothing. Maybe the next series I'll watch will be Andor. (I used to watch so many shows. What happened??)
current obsession: hockey
a dream place to visit: Leipzig
a place that you’ve been that you want to go back to: Edinburgh. One of my dearest friends lives there and I adored the city.
something you want: read some books off my shelf
currently working on: my PhD thesis. Yuck... But to mention something more fun: lately I've been thinking a lot about getting back into music. I have quite a few ideas for some new songs. I haven't done this for years, but I'm feeling enthusiastic again.
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vanilla chai— do you have any hobbies that your followers don’t know about? or any hobbies that you once had, but stopped doing?
I play piano! That is one of my daily routines. That and hockey (which i talk about a lot!) Another hobby I have is woodwork
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#I fucking hATE IT HERE#Seggy we’re looking at you#D E L I V E R (affectionate)#pavs#joe pavelski#dallas stars#stars#stars lb#chai talks hockey#personal
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Well, I have gone through my emails on my university account and have successfully made myself anxious and sad, but like, normal for reading emails at night, and have watched an insane number of reels and shorts, and have written another outline of the same information for the hockey talk I have to give soon, and am also slightly nauseous, so I think it’s time to go to bed
My plan for tomorrow is to wake up with my alarm at 8:05 and think to myself “it’s BASICALLY Friday because we have Friday off”, get the choco chai that I didn’t get today, and make some baked oats, and then do a bunch of work that I just didn’t do today because I was too tired and achy and icky-body feeling… and at some point I’ll give my stepdad a belated birthday call (which I am anxious about doing because I dreamt last night that he had DIED because I didn’t call him and fuck!! what if that’s not just the OCD talking but is actually true!! I would be unable to function and heartbroken!! and he also hasn’t told me that he got his birthday present!!), go to the gym, watch some hockey, etc
But I am really holding tight to the promise to myself of getting a chocolate chai and having what amounts to a giant gooey chocolate chip pancake tomorrow because the brain is just out of feel-good chemicals this week. The shipment hasn’t come. Supply chain problems. Very low intrinsic motivation to do the job. Everything hurts and has been aching all week. All my horizontal surfaces are stressing me out because they’re COVERED in clutter.
Lord help me
(…help me get to Dutch bros tomorrow before it’s “too late” as decided by my brain)
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Sunday 14th April 2024
Erev tov,
Well, I don't even know where to begin with today. I woke up to the news that Iran attacked Israel overnight. This, of course, has resulted in a shit storm of antisemitic troglodytes inundating my social media feed with their bullshit. That's, of course, nothing new. I do find it rather ironic that some of the most obnoxious gobshites cheering on Iran would be publicly executed if they ever set foot in the Islamic Republic. Sorry, mate, but the revolutionary guard doesn't take kindly to your left wing ideals.
So yeah, anyway fuck antisemitism. Fuck the Ayatollah and fuck the Revolutionary Guard. Am Yisrael Chai mother fuckers.
Anyway, yea, so a large part of my day has been taken up by following the latest updates on that. I have family and friends in Israel.
Other than that, my day was pretty much spent watching UFC 300 (not that I paid that much attention, what with everything else going on), the Boston Bruins ice hockey game against Pittsburgh, football and doing yard work. I also completed my time sheet for work and talked about baseball and football with a co-worker on Messenger.
Anyway I guess I should wrap this up, I've got work and class tomorrow.
Laila Tov
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@wargcds asked: [ UPDATE ] a letter that updates the recipient on the writer’s life, or certain on-going events that are happening in their life. / cain + romeo
dear romeo,
i know you’re very busy so i thought maybe i could send a letter instead, that way you can reply when you have time. i’ve never sent a letter before, but i hope you get this one.
did you know you were in the newspaper the other day?! i see you on tv all the time but this article was only about you, it was crazy. they called you “local hockey star” and your name was even on the headline! chai’s mom saw it and cut the page off for me. i’ll try to get another one so i can send it to you if you want to read it. what is it like being famous? the dickheads at school are so jealous.
speaking of school: 7th grade SUCKS!!!!! there’s so much homework and everyone is still annoying. but mrs. bradbury saw one of my drawings and she said it was really good (i’m sending it to you with this letter. check the envelope). there’s a summer camp that has art classes and she thinks that maybe i could get in for free. it looks like fun but i already told her i can’t go cos i’ll be in canada with my brother, don’t worry!
it’s finally cold enough to skate on the lake so i went yesterday but it’s not as fun without you.
writing letters is really dumb and i don’t know what else to say so i’ll stop now.
bye,
cain (obviously)
PS: my phone is being all weird so i don’t know if you called. but we still have the landline and it’s the same number so you can call whenever you want. your manager told me you train until late and that’s why you can’t talk on the phone but it’s okay to call even if it’s very late, i don’t mind.
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Your Favorite Secret
(Gif credit to @thweaty)
Word count: 7,550
Warnings: none
Genre: secret romance, strangers to lovers with sad and heartbreak towards the end, self insert
A/N: I know that this sounds super naive and unrealistic but I’ve always wondered if there are players out there who are open to shaking up the status quo by dating someone outside of the traditional and stereotypical WAG type but they never come forward out of fear and judgment so I decided to take a risk and write a fic about this topic with the guy that I tend to read the most fic for. (I’m still not transitioning to becoming a full time fic writer). Title doesn’t come from a specific song/place. I highly recommend that you listen to these 2 songs (Closer To You by Clairo and Contaminated by BANKS), in the order of how they’re listed and before reading the story, to get a better understanding of the plot of the story. I’m taking vibes and elements from these songs and putting them in the story. As mentioned earlier, this story is intended for a reader who doesn’t fit into the norms of hockey culture. It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a cis female of color and it’s a bit vague on description so that if you want to, you could make it apply to anyone. It’s intended to be a self-insert to where the reader can imagine themselves or a character of their choice in the position. This story is not as lighthearted and soft as my previous stories but it is a bit on the sad, heartbreak side. It’s a bit longer than my other works and it technically could of been published as 2 parts but I decided to keep it all together. Shoutout and thank you to @trentfrederic11 for reviewing and editing this story for me. I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌 (p.s. if you have the time, I would also really appreciate if you checked out my other pieces, know your heart and a summer in syracuse. Thanks☺️)
“Cause I know my place and it ain’t with you. Sunsets fade and love does too. Oh, we had our day in the sun. When a horse wants to run, there ain’t no sense in closing the gate. You can have your space.” -Space Cowboy by Kacey Musgraves
1:47 am
Dear Mat,
The light shining from your laptop mocked you. You were hurt and struggled with what to say. You didn’t know how you were going to tell him but he had to know how you felt. You banged your fists against the table out of frustration. Your cousin, who was visiting you from out of town, heard the noise and saw you on the verge of tears. Your cousin asked if you were okay and you replied that you weren’t because you gave him your heart and he smashed it into pieces. Your cousin questioned about who this he was and for the first time in months, you finally opened up to someone about Mat and how he was the biggest secret you were forced to keep.
____________________________________
You had just moved to Long Island for work. You had gotten a job at UBS Arena, working as an junior accountant for the facility. On your first day of work, you went into a coffee shop near the arena and saw that the line was long. You contemplated leaving but you were craving a chai tea latte to help soothe your first day nerves. You politely asked the tall guy in front of you if you could cut in front of him and he agreed to it. Based on your body language, the guy could tell that you were a bit nervous and decided to talk with you to try to ease your mind and to pass time while waiting in line. He asked what you ordered when you came to this coffee shop and if you came there often and you replied that you were new in town for work. He said that he came to this coffee shop to pick up drinks for himself, his mom and sister, who were visiting him from out of town. As the line progressed forward, you explained to him about your new job and you asked him about his. He introduced himself as Mathew Barzal and told you that he played for the Islanders, the local professional hockey team which played at the same place you were employed. Although you barely exchanged a conversation, Mat was curious about you and decided that he wanted to chat with you more over dinner to celebrate your first day of work. You had barely met this guy but you decided to take a risk and accept his offer to go out with him. It was your time to place your order and you did. While you both waited for your drinks, you reconvened back with Mat and exchanged numbers with him and told him which hotel you were staying at. You were staying at a hotel temporarily for a week until your apartment was ready for you to move into. Your drink came out faster than the time you spent waiting in line but you had to go to work so you said goodbye to Mat and left.
Your first day at work went fine; you learned the basics of the software you were working with, made connections with some of your co-workers and were officially onboarded into the system. To your surprise, Mat actually did text you to confirm the dinner plans for that night and he suggested that you must try an iconic slice of New York pizza. You were nervous for this dinner; you had only known Mat for less than 24 hours and he was going to take you out. You weren’t really sure what his intentions were with you, but you saw it as a date, and a date with an NHL player was not something you were going to pass on. Just as he had promised earlier, he did pick you up on time and take you to Motorino’s, his favorite brick oven pizza restaurant in New York. What you didn’t know was that he waved the first red flag in front of you that night. Motorino’s was great, the food was delicious and you had a great time together. You spent hours talking and learning a lot about each other; you learned things that you like about Mat and Mat learned things that he liked about you. You tried your best to avoid bringing up hockey but it was a huge part of Mat’s life so it naturally came up in your conversations and he did not have a problem talking about it with you. You also both realized how much you actually enjoyed talking to each other. Mat thought that the person who was sitting across from was amazing and you thought the same about him.
As much as you liked him, there was something lurking underneath that you didn’t know from Mat. Mat knew that there was a closer Motorino’s location in Brooklyn but he took you to the further location on the Upper West Side because he did not want to be caught on a date by anyone that knew him. Most of the team lived within a 15 minute drive of the arena and this location was 45 minutes away. He knew that the guys in the locker room would ask about you and explaining that you had barely known each other but were out to dinner together would definitely warrant some unwanted comments. After the plates were emptied and the hours spilled late into the night, Mat kindly paid for the meal and mentioned wanting to get dessert. Your face heated up at that comment but he reassured you that his mom and sister made him brownies before they left and he wanted you to try them and just had to run by his apartment to pick them up. You waited patiently in his car while he went to grab the brownies and began thinking about how absurd it was that you were spending casual time with an NHL player that you just met. You also didn’t know it at the time but you would be back in this apartment parking garage again. Mat came back excitedly into the car with a plastic tupperware and insisted you try these brownies. They were delicious but you suggested that they would be even better warmed up with ice cream. He chuckled at your suggestion and took you to Whole Foods to go pick up the ice cream to go with the brownies to heat up at the hotel you were staying at. He waved another red flag in front of you by letting you go into the store alone and he waited for you in the car. You understood that he was a bit of a celebrity and getting caught with a tub of ice cream during the season wasn’t the best look.
On the ride back to your hotel, you admired the city lights and the cutie who was driving you around. Yes, you could admit that Mat was cute and for only knowing each other for less than a day, he was treating you really well. You arrived at the hotel and impulsively invited him up to your room to try these brownies warm with ice cream. Although your impulsive choice was a bit risky, especially not knowing his intentions, it paid off. While you washed your face and changed into your pajamas, Mat heated up the brownies and got the ice cream out. Your mind was racing at 100 miles per hour with the situation at hand but you regained your composure. You were not going to embarrass yourself in front of the guy you just met. After calming down, you came out of the bathroom and he was standing and waiting for you with a bowl. You invited him to take a seat with you on the bed and struck up a conversation. That conversation turned into another story exchange, which turned into watching the late local news, which turned into watching a late night talk show, which turned into you both falling asleep. Mat did not intend on sleeping there; he was going to go home after having the brownies and ice cream, but he enjoyed spending time with you.
When your alarm went off the next morning at 6:30 am, you were surprised that you had someone’s muscular arms on you. You looked over at the guy next to you and although it sounded creepy, he looked so peaceful sleeping. You whispered a good morning and Mat’s green eyes fluttered open at you and you made eye contact. He reassured you that no funny business had occurred between you last night and offered to go pick up breakfast. While you got ready for work and Mat went to go get breakfast, you thought about the previous night; you couldn’t believe what had occurred. You did not dream that you met, went out to dinner with and shared a bed with an NHL player on your first full day in Long Island; it seemed more like a false reality than a real one. Mat came back with a chai tea latte and a breakfast sandwich, remembering your order from the day before when you met at the coffee shop. It was a cute gesture that you admired and you enjoyed your breakfast together. Although you didn’t do otherwise, Mat asked you to promise that you would not post any pictures of your time together or brag to anyone that you hung out together. He was very keen on protecting his privacy and wanted full control over the information being spread about his personal life. After the fiasco of his last relationship, he didn’t want any more drama about who he was romantically involved with. You respected his right to privacy and agreed to his promise. Before going your separate ways, he planted a kiss on your cheek. The move caught you off guard but you liked it. Although you had only known each other for about 24 hours, you really liked Mat and he liked you too. This wasn’t the last time that you were going to see each other. In fact, it would be the first of many encounters with Mat.
Mat called you at 3 am on Friday night asking for you to come over. He had just come back into town after an away game in New Jersey. You were barely falling asleep after making sure your things were together before you moved into your new apartment the next day. You had texted each other throughout the day and the messages stopped once he went to play. You were surprised that he called so late in the night, especially knowing that sleep was an athlete’s best weapon. Mat said that he couldn’t sleep and just wanted to see you. You were a bit skeptical of his intentions; you were not sure if he was inviting you over to his place to actually see you or just warm his bed for the night. You told him that you could just FaceTime but he insisted on having you over. He reeled you in with the notion of wanting to hold you again and promised that he was not having you over to wrestle in his sheets and that he wouldn’t do anything that you didn’t consent to. At first, you got a feeling in your bones that you shouldn’t go but you ignored it. You would eventually end up recurrently ignoring this feeling. Mat sent you over his address and the code to get into the building he lived in. It was oddly peaceful to drive through Long Island at night and that drive would eventually become familiar to you. You arrived at his apartment and followed the instructions he gave you. Mat opened the door and enveloped you into a hug. This action would consistently reoccur every time you saw Mat. After looking around and admiring his stunning apartment, he took you into his room. You had trusted that his intentions were good and they were. Just as he had promised, nothing happened. Mat asked you if he could hold you and no tempting touches occurred. You were afraid to fall asleep at first because you were scared that he was going to take advantage of you but he didn’t. It felt the same way it did back in the hotel room on the first night you met but better and you both slept well.
You woke up later that morning at 8 am. Mat groaned that you were up so early on a Saturday but you explained to him that it was your moving day into your new place. He offered to help you move your things from the hotel and storage unit and to get breakfast again. Although you thought you were capable of moving by yourself, it didn’t hurt to have extra help. At first, Mat wasn’t going to offer to help you because he could have spent his off day doing anything else but he knew that you didn’t have deep roots in Long Island yet so helping you was the right thing to do. He secretly hoped that no one at the apartment complex was an Islanders fan because he did not want to deal with being noticed while helping you out, and he especially did not want to give off any optics that he was dating this friend he was helping. Thankfully, no one noticed him and he did not run into anyone that he knew. After a long day of moving and setting up most of your things, you shared takeout (that you paid for as a thank you) and started exchanging stories from your childhoods. He told you about his life growing up in Canada and his youth and junior hockey stories and you told him about where you grew up and the life you had when you were younger. Before you knew it, it was already past midnight and Mat suggested that he should sleep over so that you did not have to spend your first night in your new place alone. You agreed to it without thinking and he went back to his place to shower. Before leaving, Mat gave you a kiss on the cheek and this practice would become common every time before he left you. It was uncommon for you to have a guy spend the night at your place, let alone for you to spend a night with one, but you enjoyed the way it felt to be embraced by Mat and you loved spending time with him. After spending another night together, you woke up and Mat was gone. You looked on your phone and saw that he texted you that he had to leave for something team related on a Sunday. You didn’t think much of it, texted him back to have a good day and went on with your day.
After that day, you and Mat kept in contact more frequently and the cycle of sneaking around to see each other began after that. It went on for months and there was no consistency in the cycle. It felt weird to arrive at a guy’s place so late at night but you felt a rush by going to see Mat in the middle of the night. For some reason, Mat didn’t mind having you over for as long as you wanted to stay at his place but he would always leave your apartment early. It was odd but you didn’t question it. Mat’s words were sweet like honey; he would call you to come over at night whenever he wanted and you would go see him or he would come over to your place and spend time with you. You enjoyed being in each other’s presence and bonding together. Just like he promised the first night you spent together, nothing that you didn’t consent to went down between the both of you. You did a lot of different things whenever you spent time with Mat; you would play board games, sing karaoke off-key, paint pictures together, bake and cook together (Mat wasn’t the best chef but you taught him a thing or two about cooking), watch movies and tv shows, cuddle, have deep conversations, share stories, and sometimes share a kiss or two. Although the things you did together sounded boring, Mat enjoyed how spending time with you created a sense of calm and balanced out the chaos and busyness from his hockey life. You were surprised that Mat wanted to spend so much time with you; his lifestyle wasn’t the most stable and he could have had anyone else he wanted but he chose you.
You knew that Mat had a much busier schedule so you rarely asked him about hanging out together and always waited for him to ask. Yes, there were instances when you did say no to seeing each other, no matter what words he used to entice you. Mat didn’t like the rejection you gave so he would shut you out until he was ready to have you back in his arms. Whenever he was acting childish like that, you would continue on with your life like nothing happened; it hurt but that pain was only temporary. No matter how hard you pushed each other away, you still ended up back together. The things that Mat did brought you closer to him and you just couldn’t get enough of him. It was slightly intoxicating and addicting to be around each other. The street that was created out of your relationship ran 2 ways. Mat would call at any hour of the night and you would push your sheets off your bed and run to him, or have him over at your place; it didn’t matter what was going on, you gave your time to him. You both got a thrill out of seeing each other. Over the hours you spent together, you both felt safe being vulnerable with each other and you trusted each other a lot; Mat even let you watch his place whenever he was playing away games. He trusted that you weren’t taking advantage of him in any way and you trusted that he wasn’t abusing your friendship and kindness. Although you established trust together, there was something about Mat that kept him so secretive with you.
In addition to spending plenty of time together, he would also give you tickets to his games and you would go to support him. Working at UBS Arena did have its perks and one of those perks was discounted tickets to games and events at the site but Mat insisted that you have the best seats in the house. Due to the promise you made to him, you weren’t allowed to say how you got such good seats by the glass or a nice private suite to your friends and co-workers but you had a “connection” from the venue. He would also sometimes send you flowers and lunches to your job and give you nice gifts, always noted from a secret admirer. Your co-workers were curious to know about your secret boyfriend but your lips were sealed into revealing who he was. You really liked Mat a lot and you wanted to tell others about him and how great he is but you also did not want to break the promise you made to him. Things were looking up and falling into place for you, all while you were falling deeply in love with Mat.
What you didn’t know was that you both had different perceptions of what was going on. You were someone on the introverted side and kept to yourself and only trusted a few people; you preferred a night in than a night out so keeping your situation with Mat a secret wasn’t much of a problem. However, there were moments that you would contemplate over how you spent time together and the status of what was going on between the two of you. Although the crush that you and Mat had on each other was obvious, you both considered each other to be friends, but sometimes the title and bounds of your friendship wasn’t always clear. Yes, Mat would call you in the dark hours of the night to see you and you would go to him, he would push you away whenever you rejected him, you would sometimes flirt with each other and share kisses, he would buy you nice things and he treats you like a boyfriend would, but neither one of you confessed your feelings for each other. You never asked him about the status of your situationship because you thought that spending time together only at each other’s places and never publicly kept his privacy protected, like he wanted, and it was also what made your relationship unique. There were times that you did wonder if Mat was wooing you and other people at once, if he could be a floater who just cycles through different partners or worse, he could be a cheater. You also wondered if Mat was the one for you and if he loved you in the same way that you loved him but you were terrified that he didn’t love you romantically so you kept your feelings to yourself. However, these thoughts subsided whenever you were with him because you always enjoyed your time together and you started to think that you were thinking way too deeply about it. Mat really did like you a lot and did think that you were beautiful, both inside and outside, but he had unspoken reservations about going public and letting those closest to him know about you. The more time you spent together, Mat could feel himself falling for you and he liked the way it felt but he always stopped himself from taking it any further.
You were nothing like Jillian; in fact, Mat was so grateful that you weren’t anything like her. You were someone who was down to earth, humble, kind, compassionate, caring and laid-back. Jillian was a privileged and spoiled girl who let drama follow her wherever she went and enjoyed being the center of attention. Everything Jillian wanted was handed to her from her parents; she even attended an expensive private college and dropped out on their dime. She only wore designer brands and would never be caught without a fresh set of nails. People were drawn to her beauty and charm and she was a full time influencer and model. Compared to you, she would fit in perfectly fine with the other WAGs. Jillian only wanted to live in LA or Miami because she loved the beach; Mat didn’t play for a team in any of those cities (the beaches on Long Island were not up to her standards) and was not going to request a trade for her. She also wanted to get married to Mat and to be the mother of his children to further secure her future. Mat wasn’t thinking that far ahead with Jillian. Sure, he liked her and thought she was super attractive but he wasn’t sure if he truly loved her deeply enough to have a future with her. Jillian was essentially his summer fling/temporary girlfriend during the previous offseason and was not officially onboarded as a WAG yet. He let Jillian meet Liana, his sister, for lunch once to test the waters before meeting the rest of his family and it was a disaster. Liana absolutely despised Jillian and her snottiness and Jillian was very rude towards her. Shortly after that, he ended things with Jillian but Jillian decided to go on a drunken rant on a public Instagram live and call out Mat for being bad in bed. People could not stop talking about Jillian’s actions; Mat got several dms about it, was being talked about all over the bunny blogs on tumblr and even got chirped by the guys about it. He ended up blocking her and cut ties from her for good after being embarrassed like that. Mat was ashamed and hurt that he let both himself and Jillian post them being cute together all summer and that he put his heart out on the line, all for her to stab him in the back with something that should have been kept private.
Although you didn’t look anything like Jillian, Mat still saw both physical and emotional beauty within you. You had good qualities that he liked and he saw how the light glowed differently through who you were as a person and he admired that so much. Mat knew that his friends and family would adore you and he wanted to take you around the world and back; he even already placed you on the top of his list of people to meet his nonna (grandmother), who was very important to him. Mat’s heart spoke to him that he couldn’t let someone like you go because you were so unique and special; he knew that he should show you off like the rare gem that you are, but he thought it was best to keep you hidden.
____________________________________
Your birthday was the day after Mat came back from a roadtrip in California. He agreed to take you out hiking in Rockefeller State Park and to go get dinner from Momofuku Noodle Bar. You were so excited to see him again. That night you dreamt of him singing, sounding like John Mayer, to you with a guitar for your birthday. For some reason in your dream, instead of singing the traditional happy birthday song, he sang Moon Song by Phoebe Bridgers. Although the dream you had did not make any clear sense, the feelings of heartbreak that Phoebe sang in her song would eventually show up in your life sooner than expected.
Before your birthday hike, you asked Mat if you could go have a sit-down brunch on the way to the park. Mat did not want to be caught out in public with you for privacy reasons but because it was your special day, he caved in and agreed to it. While you were enjoying your birthday pancakes, a beautiful blonde woman with a stroller came up to your table and started talking to Mat. You found out that her name was Sydney, her husband was a teammate of Mat’s and altogether, she was everything that you were not. She mentioned how she was in the area for some morning Mommy and Me yoga class with her daughter, Winnie, and stopped by to grab a quick bite with her daughter before going to run other errands. Sydney called you Jillian and brought up how nice it was to meet you, that she was sad that she didn’t get to meet you at the Casino Night charity gala because Winnie was sick and she missed the event and that she would love to get to know you better. You looked at Sydney blindsided by her comment but her child began to fuss. Sydney said that it was probably time for Winnie’s nap and before leaving, she mentioned for you to not be a stranger, to come sit with her and the other WAGs at a game and for Mat to bring you around sometime.
You were shocked and confused by Sydney’s comment about the gala. Mat had previously mentioned that he was going to the gala but he purposefully did not invite you. He knew that you were available the night of the gala, were willing to go to the event and even purchase yourself a new outfit for it but he never mentioned a single word about taking you along as his date. Mat looked really embarrassed by what had unfolded in front of him. He looked at you with those green eyes of his that you adored and began his explanation with “you know I love you, right?”. How could he possibly say that he loves you (something that he never said to you prior to this moment) when he doesn’t bring you around anyone in his inner circle and you couldn’t tell anyone that you were together? Who in the world was Jillian and why did Sydney call you that? Mat first explained his history with Jillian and revealed that he actually flew her out to be his date for the gala. The guys on the team knew that he was involved with someone but he never revealed who it was. After a chirp about his love interest being a ghost and wanting to get the guys off his back about his love life, he decided to invite Jillian as his date. To entice her to accept his invite, Mat promised to purchase her new items for the special event and Jillian only agreed to go along with it because she enjoyed the attention and wanted a new expensive dress and jewelry. After having a little too much to drink that night, he ended up sleeping with her after the gala. Mat felt guilty about the fact that he deceived people and slept with Jillian but the damage had already been done.
After that devastating confession, Mat went on to explain that he didn’t have you around to protect you from it all because he felt like you didn’t deserve to go through the drama, harassment, trolling, bullying and pushback that would come with dating a hockey player. He knew that the world would be against the two of you being together. He also didn’t want to hear the nasty chirps that would come up because you were together. Yes, it was a lot to handle but you didn’t care and you were willing to try and take the risk for him because you truly love him and were in way too deep for him. You didn’t love Mat because he was some hockey player who made tons of money and was super attractive but you loved him for who he was underneath all of that. You would love him, even if he was a janitor at UBS Arena. He didn’t have to shout his supposed love for you from the rooftops and post about you 24/7 but he could have at least let you meet one of his teammates. You would let him meet your friends and family and go public with him, regardless of the commentary and backlash. You were willing to make your social media accounts private, start shopping at luxury brands, and even take the pushback, bullying, trolling, harassment and drama associated with being together; you would give him the moon if you could. Mat truly did love you and he loved you so much that he wanted to protect you from the negative aspects of his lifestyle. You understood and respected that but the unspoken aspect of it all was that Mat chose to uphold the standards of hockey culture instead. Mat knew that going public with you would be the definition of changing hockey culture. He couldn’t change the fact of you being who you are and that you didn’t fit into the box of ideals, standards, and norms created by hockey culture but he still loved you, regardless of those things. You both had spent so much time, effort, and emotion building up this relationship and it all came crashing down.
Your head began to start hurting and the restaurant walls felt like they were closing in on you. In your haze of devastation, you pulled up your Uber app to take you home. You couldn’t do this anymore and you were done playing this game because it didn’t seem like things were ever going to change. Even though you both defined and limited your relationship to be a friendship with a secret mutual crush element, the circumstances of that relationship led you to think that you were in the “more than friends” category with him. However, in reality, Mat was only dragging you along into thinking that way with his actions and he was never going to plan on making you his public romantic partner. You gave Mat your heart and he just dropped it like a linesman in a face off. He tried to hold you like water in his hands but you were now a puddle, spilled all over the floor. You were like a doormat that he could walk all over and you were loyal to him like a dog with a toy in its mouth, waiting at the door for him to come home to show him what you had found. The entire time this went on, it was like Mat sat on his high horse and watched you fall; he could have at least told you how he truly felt and ended things sooner instead of leading you on for so long. You would rather choose to deal with the heartbreak much earlier on than now. To add more fuel to the fire, he stuck his tongue down the throat of someone who he probably truly loved more than you. There was no point in continuing forward with Mat because there was going to be no end to this secret and you would never fully fit into his life. Mat tried to convince you to stay, offered to take you home himself and to even pay for your Uber home but you did not want anything else from him. You gave him an out of character, harsh goodbye and tried your best to maintain your composure on the ride back home.
You arrived at your apartment and immediately broke down on the floor in your bathroom. Everything that you had together was all an illusion. The unfortunate and harsh reality began to set in for you. All of the things that your inner hopeless romantic desired with Mat were never going to come true. Mat was probably going to choose to make Jillian or someone like her a WAG before ever giving you an opportunity and you wished that he would have given you a chance to be his lover. You were never going to be posted about on his social media, you were never going to get a WAG jacket or even a jersey with his name on it, you were never going to meet his family, you were never going to get a nice ring on your finger and take his last name, you were never going to have a future together. You were never going to be like Sydney and have the things that she had in your own way with Mat all because Mat refused to shake up the status quo.
You had previously researched into hockey culture; you learned that hockey has a very homogenous (everything was similar) culture with little room for change. You noticed that there was a lack of diversity (not just race, but also sizes and gender) both on and off the ice. There definitely was a certain type that flourished within the sport and that spilled over into the players’ personal lives as well. You couldn’t blame them for choosing such beautiful people to be their partners. Yes, you knew that if you were in a photo with the other WAGs, you would immediately be noticed as the outlier. It slightly bothered you that there was no representation for someone who looked like you in that space but there was no resentment towards that because that’s unfortunately how it was. You knew that even the WAGs faced people saying terrible things about them that they did not deserve but you weren’t like them and the things that people would say about you would be more harsh and vile than what they would receive. You also knew that you could hold your own and you had lowkey hoped that the other WAGs would be truly accepting of you in their space, a space that originally was not constructed for someone like you. You may not have been what Mat or his hockey buddies wanted physically but Mat knew you were everything he needed on paper.
As the pieces of the illusion of what you had started to fall into an image of a more harsh reality, you realized that Mat took the dark for granted. He played with your heart like how he plays the puck during a game. Your mind began to spiral: All of those times he flirted with you and told you that you were beautiful, did he truly mean it and stood by those words or was it just a lie? (He truly meant it), Did anyone know about your existence in his life? (Unfortunately, no one else knew, not even his most trusted friends), Was he secretly talking to Jillian and other girls when you were together? (He wasn’t), Was this all a waste of time for the both of you? (It wasn’t), Is there a lesson out of all of this? (Yes, there was). You also realized how much of Mat had contaminated you with his sweet words, the sound of his voice, his touch, his kind gestures. You felt so much power when you were laying by his side and when you held onto each other. You lost yourself while falling deeply into the depths of him. All of the red flags and warning signs were there but you were wearing rose colored glasses so you didn’t see them and consistently ignored your intuition. You knew better and everyone would have told you so but you were so blinded by Mat’s charm and your love for him. You wish that you could have just rewinded it all, undo the bad choice of going to his place or having him over at yours and get some piece of mind from him. You held so much love for Mat and he claimed that you loved back. All of those hours spent together meant everything to you but that time didn’t mean as much to him. He planned it all in the daylight and you would be left in the dark. You had built Mat up like a god in your life and now, you were godless.
Mat called, texted and left several voicemails. He begged for you to give him another chance and to let him prove himself to you; he promised that he truly loved you but you weren’t having it. You gave Mat so much attention and time for so long and now, all you could give him was silence. Although you were done with him and hadn’t spoken to him since your birthday, you still kept that promise of not revealing your relationship to anyone. You didn’t have anyone to turn to about this so you grieved that loss alone and tapped into your resiliency to get you to push forward.
Mat felt absolutely horrible for what happened. Sure, he had never planned on going public with you but he didn’t think that your heart was going to break that badly; he thought you would be more understanding of him protecting you. Mat knew that keeping you a secret wasn’t the smartest thing to do; he really liked you a lot and he could see a possible future with you but he felt so conflicted with competing against hockey culture and his true emotions towards you. You were so different from all of the other girls out there and Mat loved that about you. He loved your mannerisms, how kind, compassionate and hard working you are, how you always sent him good luck texts before his games, how you praised him for his wins, how you comforted him after his losses, the way how you loved him; he loved your heart and all of the little things about you that pieced you together into a beautiful, unique work of art. Mat could overlook the fact that you did not automatically look the part and fit into hockey culture, but it wasn’t going to be an easy thing for a culture that was known for being set into specific ways. He wished that he could bring you around and show you off without any negative commentary, whether that came from the fans or his hockey peers. Mat didn’t want to hear the horrible things people would say about you and he knew those things would be much worse than what the average WAG would get and you did not deserve those disgusting words directed towards you at all. Sydney’s positive reaction towards meeting you and her presumed acceptance with having you around offered a glimmer of hope for Mat but he wasn’t fully confident if that reaction would be universal with everyone else.
Mat’s internal conflict furthered because he knew that he could speak up and defend his decision to be with you but he also did not want to draw attention and cause any issues by doing so. Mat was truly upset about everything that went down and he wasn’t sure if he could find someone like you in anyone else. It was selfish of him to think but he did miss having you around and not just for physical comfort. You contaminated him in your own ways and you brought a certain light into his life that wasn’t there for him before. The other guys on the team wouldn’t understand what he was going through because most of them didn’t have these conflicting feelings. The people around Mat could see that he was going through something, something that actually affected his play, and they assumed that it had to do with Jillian. Jillian did attempt to weasel her way back into Mat’s heart but he didn’t fully want to go back to her. The people around him encouraged him to move on and find someone new but Mat wasn’t fully sure if he wanted to do that yet. He still felt heartbroken from losing you because one minute he had you, someone he quietly did truly love and had a connection that he yearned for his whole life, and the next you disappeared from his life like a puff of smoke.
The healing process from Mat was not easy because you had given him so much of your heart and time. Underneath the mess of what happened, Mat was a good guy (outside of what he did to hurt you) who treated you well and you could see why you fell for him in the first place. You would miss him and his handsome face, him making you laugh and hearing the sound of his laugh, how great his hugs were, the smell of his cologne, the way how he loved you. You genuinely loved Mat and it hurt so much but you knew that you couldn’t continue on this way. You spent a lot of time with your emotions and had to let all of the feelings that you felt about him out so you decided to write a closure letter to him. After explaining to your cousin about your relationship with Mat, you cried for a bit and continued to write the letter to him. You poured your heart and soul into this letter; it was painful to revisit those emotions about him but you knew that this was the best way to help you grow and move forward from what you had together. The cup that you poured into what you had was emptied out now and you couldn’t refill it for Mat anymore. You deserved better and better wasn’t always ending up in second place for him.
After completing the letter, your cousin offered to drive you over to Mat’s place for one last time so that you could deliver your closure letter to him. You weren’t sure if you were going to keep the gifts he gave you and the shirts and hoodies of his that he let you keep but if you decided not to, you would mail them to him. The most important thing to you at the moment was getting your emotions out and you would deal with the objects later. After sliding the letter and the key he gave you under his door, your cousin decided to knock on Mat’s door before taking your hand to run away. On the ride back to your apartment, your mind started to spiral. When was he going to read the letter: after the knock on the door or in the morning? Would he tell you about his thoughts on the letter? Did he already move on with someone new and was he going to tell you that? Did he overcome his conflicting feelings about hockey culture? Would he offer you to give him a second chance and be serious about going public with you? Was he going to sweeten you up back into his arms again? Was he going to make a broken promise? Could you trust him again? Did he still love you? Did he still care about you? You felt overwhelmed and started to cry again. Through your tears, you saw that your phone rang and it showed Mat’s number for the first time in a while. You looked down at it and contemplated if you should answer to hear him out and gain closure from him directly to help you move on or if you should not answer and move on for good without hearing from him.
The Letter
#mat barzal#ny islanders#mat barzal imagine#mat barzal fic#mat barzal x reader#my writing#hockey fic#hockey imagine#hockey writing#please read my story
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Lil ransom POV that’s been knocking around since Nurseyweek
seemed like a good time to post
_X_
Ransom loves Samwell, even if he can only make it down for Alumni Weekend.
This was the place where he had met his best friends, played swasome hockey, and made some banging spreadsheets, if he does say so himself. And he does. Because Excel backed him up.
“Yo, Ransom! What’s up?!” Ransom spins around at the sound of his name, and then –
“Oh, chill.”
He really should have braced himself. Nursey always was like a puppy. But like a Newfoundland puppy. Or some other puppy that doesn’t realize how big they are. Because now he and Nursey are both on the ground.
In the back of his mind, Ransom knows they are completely in the way of people trying to get to class, but he’s just so glad to see Nursey in person that he doesn’t care.
“Nursey! What have we said about curbing your enthusiasm?”
“That I shouldn’t because it’s a delightful part of my personality?” Nursey asks.
“5 points to Nursey!”
They finally manage to untangle themselves enough to stand up and move off the sidewalk, Ransom initiating a proper hug. “It’s good to see you, got time for Annie’s?”
“Chyeah for sure! Oh man, I have so much to tell you.” And they’re off. Just like Ransom never left. It’s comforting to know that Nursey can still ramble on with the best of them. He was worried about Nursey a little bit this year. He knew first-hand how hard senior year could be, especially with an A on his jersey. Listening to Nurse go off about his classes, how much he missed Bitty’s baking, how much more terrifying Chowder is in goal this year, Ransom grins. Nursey seems to have gained a new version of his chill. He seems happy, and in control of things.
One of the first things they bonded over was their respective anxiety. Ransom is glad that Nursey is starting senior year in a much healthier mental place than he did. One thing off Ransom’s mental worry checklist.
“…And yeah, now that Dex is captain we have all these morning practices again, like Jack, but not quite so early, thank god. He’s doing a good job with the new freshmen; they really look up to him. He’s started making bread, actually? I think Bitty sent him a recipe. Oh, and Chowder and Farms are even cuter this year than ever before, its nauseating man. But all three of us are in a class together, actually! It’s really chill, we’re taking that photography class like Jack took! Dex suggested it – which was totally chill of him. He was all its arty for you Nursey, Chowder is enthusiastic about everything, and its technical enough that I won’t feel totally lost. Like how cool is that? It’s a really cool class, relaxing, weirdly. Like, meditative, ya know? Anyway, tell me about you, man. It’s been too long since we caught up!”
As they get in line at Annie’s, Ransom fills him in on working with Holster and applying to med school for next year.
“Yeah so I figured out I want to be research focused, and probably kid-focused? Like, I want to be able to help kids with what I’m researching, so I’ve been looking into what I need for that, but it’s going well, I think. Hilariously, no one at work seems to realize that Holster and I a) know each other and b) are dating already. I’ve had 4 people in the last week come up to me and ask if I’m seeing anyone because Adam in the other department would be PERFECT for me. Truly amazing.”
“That’s hilarious, holy shit.”
“What can I get you today?” the barista asks.
“I’ll get a vanilla latte, please,” Ransom says.
“And I’ll have a Chai Latte with a shot of vanilla. Oh, also a Hot Honey Ginger Lemon Tea. Thanks, Steph,” Nursey rattles off.
They collect their drinks and head toward the Haus without needing to talk about anything in particular. It’s always restful just hanging out with Nursey. Ransom is the most extrovert ever to extrovert, but even he needs down time sometimes, and Nursey can be, dare he say it, chill, when he wants to be. Also, it’s a beautiful fall day, and it’s nice to just soak it up. Nursey is probably composing like 5 poems in his head about it right now.
Walking up the steps to the Haus, Ransom pauses a little, just to savor the moment. He’s been back before this, obviously, but it’s getting harder to visit, and once he’s in med school, it’ll be even rarer. He wants to keep this place in his memory forever.
“Dex! You’re alive!” he hears Nursey yell from the kitchen. Walking in himself, he sees Dex, looking utterly miserable. He’s wrapped in a blanket, wearing his roadie flannel sweatpants, his SMH hoodie, and – is that Nursey’s green beanie? Ransom blinks, trying to process.
“Hey Nursey. Hey Ransom,” Dex rasps out, trying to smile at Ransom before coughing a little.
“Oh hey, I got you this from Annie’s since you weren’t feeling well this morning,” says Nursey, “It’s the you tea.”
“Thanks. The U tea?” Dex asks before taking a sip and sighing in apparent delight.
“No, the YOU, Y-O-U tea, the Dex tea,” Nursey says.
“Why is it the Dex tea?” Ransom asks.
“It’s the Hot Honey Ginger Lemon tea,” Nursey explains.
Dex goes bright red, and Ransom would blame the coughing fit he has, but it definitely started in his ears and is it just him or do those coughs sound a little forced?
“Did you just get him the only thing with Ginger in the name?” Ransom asks, amused. Dex narrows his eyes at Ransom while Nursey looks in the fridge for a snack. Good to know that Dex’s crush on Nursey is healthy as ever, even when he’s not.
“No, but that’s an added bonus,” Nursey says, “I got him tea because tea always helps my throat. The ginger, lemon, and honey all work really well together for a cold; my moms swear by it, I always had it growing up. No it’s the Dex tea because its ginger like your hair, obviously, and honey like your eyes, sorta, and lemon like your attitude when you’re stressed, and hot because – “ Nursey pauses like he just realizes he was on the verge of waxing poetic about Dex.
“Hot because what?” Ransom asks. Ransom is outright grinning now, while Dex is looking determinedly into his cup like maybe he could drown himself in it, blushing more deeply than Ransom has ever seen him. And Nursey – Nursey is visibly putting on a layer of chill, of armor. He catches Ransom’s eyes, nods once, takes a deep breath, and finishes the thought,
“And hot because you’re hot, Dex.”
“What.”
“You heard me.”
“I – wow, Nurse. I don’t know what to say.”
“You could say yes.”
“I could say yes?” Dex asks in a small voice.
“To whether you’d come on a date with me when you feel better.”
“I – I –,” Dex looks at Nursey intently, probably trying to see whether he’s serious or chirping. Ransom holds his breath. If they remember that he’s here, they might not ever get this far again.
“Yes. I’d like that.”
“Did you just say yes?” Nursey asks, smile starting to break out.
“Yes. When I don’t feel like death on toast. Yes.” Dex is smiling too.
“Chi – “
“GUYS!” Ransom interrupts before Nursey can say chill, and also because he’s legit tearing up right now, “If I wasn’t so damn happy for you both I’d be fining the hell out of you.”
“Like you could, I’m the captain now.”
“Yeah but the group chat would back me up on the sap level in the kitchen right now,” Ransom smirks.
“Alright, fair.” Dex says, taking another sip of his tea. His blankets slip down to his elbows now, exposing the number. But instead of #24, C there is very clearly a different number. #28, A.
Nursey falls off his chair in his attempt to make sure that what he’s seeing is real.
“Dexy, are you wearing my hoodie? And my hat?”
Ransom’s phone chimes.
Holster: U @ the Haus?
I’m omw with Chowder and Whiskey rn
“Maybe.”
Me: yup
It finally happened btw
“Maybe? Dex its right there!”
Holster: what happened?
The railing finally gave out?
“Maybe they’re comfortable. And warm. I’m sick.”
Me: nah man
Well maybe idk
Haven’t left the kitchen
But
Dex and Nursey
They’re goin on a date
“Well maybe if I’d known how hot it is to see you in my clothes I would have asked you out sooner,” Nursey says flirtatiously.
Holster: !!!!!!
DUDE
HOLY SHIT
DEETS RANS I NEED DEETS
“I signed up for this. I literally signed up for this,” Dex groans.
Ransom: Nursey brought him tea
That reminded him of Dex
Because it’s the hot honey ginger lemon tea
And he got to why hot reminded him of dex
And was actually smooth???
That was a trip to watch
Dex said yes
And now they are bickering again
But like its sweet?
“Yeah you did, Dexy. Can’t get rid of me now. You know I’m ride or die.”
Holster: HOLY SHIT
I’m so proud of them
Chowder is crying btw
Oh wait
Now he’s sprinting toward the Haus
So
Incoming
Me: 👍
“Hey lovebirds.” Nursey and Dex look over at him, both surprised he is still here. They definitely forgot about him. “Chowder’s on his way. Also Holster and Whiskey. So. Get pumped for that because the groupchat isn’t far behind.”
Dex puts his head on the table and groans unintelligibly. Nursey just beams and puts his arm around Dex’s shoulders, “Oh, nice. Now we don’t have to stress about when to tell him.”
Ransom just laughs and preps the text he’s gonna send to the groupchat. He really should try to visit more often. Ransom loves Samwell.
_X_
#ransom#holster#nursey#dex#if you don't think nursey calls him hot honey ginger lemon idk what to tell you#ransom pov#with a little nurseydex#as a treat#because of who I am as a person#nurseydex#Rachel writes
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meet logan foley // welcome to iron river.
the basics //
full name : logan amelia foley
birthdate & zodiac : june 11th, 1995
gender & pronouns : woman & she/her
sexuality : bisexual - biromantic
occupation : late night radio dj at local classic rock station, WRSP
hometown : prescott, georgia
family : james foley ( father, deceased ), amelia foley ( mother, deceased ), melissa foley ( older sister, estranged ), madison foley ( older sister, primary caregiver )
deeper dive //
hobbies :
hair styling - logan’s tried everything under the sun to express herself; art, writing, music, cooking - but hair styling was what really felt natural to her. for a few years, she worked at local salons, but these days she mostly focuses on her own hair and those of her close friends - there’s usually pastel or neon colors in her own hair, and she tries new cuts and styles frequently.
gardening - a leftover hobby from when her mother, amelia, was around. she taught both logan and madison how to garden - planting not only flowers but herbs and vegetables so they could grow their own. these days, logan has a small garden on the roof of her apartment building. it’s not the same as the yard she grew up in, but she’s making due.
knitting & sewing - another skil her mother passed onto her, logan’s always had an interest in creating her own clothes. while she owns plenty of corporate owned merchandise, she loves making unique and creative styles all her own. for christmas and birthday presents, she usually bestows a handmade gift - something perfect for the recipient for them to have an original one of a kind piece.
soccer - her eldest sister was a field hockey star, her older a cheerleader, so athletics were an inevitability. logan found herself drawn to soccer, and managed to get herself a decent scholarship to the univeristy of georgia - where she dropped out before her junior year even began.
favorites :
food - chicken tempura, a foley house staple growing up.
drink - she’s not too picky and probably wouldn’t consider her having a favorite, but she usually sticks to cherry pepsi or jack and cokes when she’s drinking.
movie - a sucker for a cheesy musical, her all time favorite is rock of ages which is usually playing when she’s spending the day cleaning her room.
song - definitely a hard choice, because she loves all kinds of music, but considering where she works she’d have to choose an all time favorite like ‘stairway to heaven’ or ‘hotel california’.
color - logan loves bright colors, but usually purple and blue are the ones she gravitates towards the most.
habits :
cigarettes [ frequent ] / alcohol [ socially, very careful about her alcohol ingestion ] / drug use [ pot, the occasional hit of coke or party drugs ]
nervous ticks include bouncing up and down on her heels, digging into her cuticles, and talking so fast no one can understand her
loves :
hair dye, drawing with chalk, new blankets, sunshine, her sister, sushi, partying, chai lattes, the beach, mythology, music, social media, pizza, attention, bugs bunny, cryptids, street racing, fish, photography, and skateboarding
fears :
being left on her own entirely, car crashes, the hospital
talents :
gardening, sewing, talking and a natural talent for languages
appearance //
height : 5′7
tattoos : a cherry blossom on her left wrist, a cloud with a moon behind it on her right ankle, i’m a fool for you written in script along her left ribcage, ‘lil sis’ written on the inside of her right elbow ( matches her older sister madison who has ‘big sis’ in the same location ) and more forthcoming.
scars : none
piercings : ears ( usually wears kitschy eattings ), nose piercing ( stud ), navel piercing ( now closed ) and nipple piercings ( now closed )
hair : naturally black, constantly dyed various colors. currently a medium brown with pastel green and pink highlights, past her shoulders and usually curly and down.
fashion :
clothing- jeans, usually ripped and torn with various band teeshirts. she also wears a lot of homemade tees that she’s created herself with funky prints - almost always a crop top with her stomach exposed. has a leather jacket she inherited from her father that she’s adjusted to fit her snugly that she wears everywhere.
shoes - she wears converse or vans more often than not, usually in bright colors. she also likes boots, especially in winter, and wears knee high leather boots whenever she can get away with it.
more info //
logan wasn’t exactly born into a happy home; the surprise baby born ten years after her older sisters, she grew up as a wild child to the local pastor who simply wanted a Good Family. appearances were everything, and logan barely even knew her eldest sister melissa - she packed her bags and left before logan even hit kindergarten, leaving a vacancy in their home that her mother and sister couldn’t quite fill, despite how much they tried.
a car crash took out both of her parents in one go; logan was in middle school, her sister madison having just graduated from the university of georgia and suddenly pulled back to their small hometown to care for logan while she finished out her years of schooling. the two made themselves into a comfortable family - madison seemed almost relieved with their father gone, able to be herself, and she encouraged logan to be whomever she wanted to be at all turns.
logan was accepted to the university of georgia on a soccer scholarship, and she went for a couple years because it was what her mother would have wanted. but school was never something that logan really cared about. she managed to finish her associates before dropping out, and with madison off in california, logan found herself settling in a similar small town to their own.
she’s been in iron river for about seven years, now - she worked odd jobs for years, doing everything from waitressing to bartending to working at the local hotel as a concierge. these days, she’s ‘mad dog logan’ on the 9pm-1am slot of the local classic rock station, attending events for the station and helping bring listeners back to radio as best she can.
she lives in a small apartment with two others ( wanted connections ) and spends most of her free time doing...whatever she wants. she’s always been a party girl, an extrovert who loves to be the life of the party. sometimes she can overdo it - failing to see when the party should be over - which can make her hard to be with when you’re not in an ‘up’ mood, but when you want to have a good time, she’s definitely a good person to know.
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Otter was so close to a shutout which is upsetting but wE FUCKING WON BITCHES
#CONFERENCE FINAL HERE WE COME#Ima cry#stars lb#dallas stars#stanley cup playoffs 2023#scp 2023#chai talks hockey
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