Idday "writes"

USA, she/her. On AO3 as Idday.

[iddayidnight]

Hockey RPF Masterpost

For your easy browsing. Enjoy 💖  

Jack Eichel/Connor McDavid - they’re never going to not mean anything to each other

Canon-adjacent:

the wind blows west. Explicit. Established relationship. Playoff sex bet.

these roads are changing me. Teen. Amnesia. Getting back together.

every corner of this house is haunted. Mature. Establised relationship. Secret relationship. Parental death.

like one of your girls. Explicit. Feminization. 

the outlines of your dreams. Teen. Established Relationship. Breaking up and making up. Christmas Carol-esque time travel. 

burn in it all day. Explicit. Edging.

put your money where your mouth is. Teen. Outsider POV. Secret marriage. 

i was supposed to sweat you out. Explicit. Friends with benefits. Sex bet.

a real one in your reflection series:

hit them angles. Explicit. Secret nudes. Sexting.

showin’ off (but it’s alright). Explicit. Established relationship. Secret relationship.

there’s a rumor going ‘round (about me and you). Teen. Outsider POV. Multiple POV. Secret Relationship. 

the fine art of the slow reveal. Teen. Outsider POV. Secret Relationship. 

through the wilderness. Teen. Demisexuality. 

roots in my dreamland series:

where the spirit meets the bones. Mature. First time D/s. Established relationship. 

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. Explicit. Established relationship. Gentle D/s. Long distance relationship. 

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow. Explicit. Established relationship. Gentle D/s. Kneeling. 

live and die for moment that we stole. Explicit. Established relationship. Gentle D/s. Service submission. 

hold me hard and mellow. Explicit. Established relationship. Praise kink. Body worship.

where the love-light gleams. Mature. Established relationship. First Christmas together. 

you kept me like a secret (i kept you like an oath). Mature. Unrequited love. 

the golden age of something. Teen. Pre-relationship. 

no other shade of blue but you. Mature. Secret marriage. Breaking up and making up. 

Operation Rookie-Trap. Teen. Established relationship. Outsider POV. 

always waiting for you (just to cut to the bone) series:

what doesn’t kill me (makes me want you more). Mature. Acquaintances with benefits, featuring Taylor Hall. 

and if i bleed (you’ll be the last to know). Explicit.

rip the night wide open. Explicit. Established Relationship. 

The Care and Keeping of Connor McDavid. Explicit. They both attend Boston University.

Free and Easy. Explicit. First Time Roleplay. 

to the victor (the spoils). Explicit. Dubious consent. 

out of the blue. Explicit. Secret/mistaken identity. You’ve Got Mail inspired. 

tell me all the things that i want to hear. Explicit. Enemies to lovers. 

the words i never got to say (the first time around). Explicit. Future fic. Getting together. 

the more that i know you (the more i want to). Explicit. Getting together. Established relationship. 

tui gratia iovis gratia sit cures. Teen. Magical realism. 

AU:

out of the ordinary. Explicit. Sentinel/Guide AU.

in the hanging tree. Mature. Hunger Games AU. 

Poisons, Knives, and Strange Device(s): The Myths and Facts of Muggle Medicine (A Beginner's Guide by Mediwizard Eichel). Mature. Quidditch AU. 

just once (if i have the chance). Explicit. Stripper AU. Infidelity. 

somewhere we can be alone. Mature. F/M. Regency AU. Arranged marriage. 

high into the blue. Teen. Top Gun AU.

i’d pay if you’d just know me. Teen. Sex worker AU.

from eden. Explicit. F/M. Medieval AU. Royalty AU. Arranged marriage. 

burned for better. Explicit. Alpha/Beta/Omega AU.

fast with the game we play. Teen. College AU. Frat AU.

take it offline. Teen. Office AU. Mistaken identity. 

a ruthless game. Mature. Royalty AU. Medieval AU.

Faoilleach. Teen. Werewolf AU. Royalty AU. Medieval AU. Celtic Mythology AU. 

camera flashes make it look like a dream. Teen. Actor/Celebrity AU. 

tell me about despair, yours, and i will tell you mine. Teen. Hanahaki AU. 

red, white, and gold. Mature. Olympics AU. figure skating AU. 

you can make me a drink. Teen. Bar AU. 

baby, i’m a gangster too. Teen. Mob AU. Fake dating inception. 

lay your armor down. Mature. Historical AU. Medieval AU. Knight/King. 

coda to a pas de deux. Teen. F/M. Ballet AU. 

gold rush. Explicit. F/F. 

heartbeat on the highline (once in twenty lifetimes). Teen. Vampire AU. 

burn notice. Mature. Spy AU. 

like an old friend through quiet space. Teen. Anne of Green Gables AU. F/M. 

i’m your national anthem. Explicit. Red, White & Royal Blue fusion. 

heavy lies the crown. Teen. Historical royalty AU. Arranged marriage AU. 

working on the night shift. Mature. Police/firefighter AU. 

with abandon. Teen. Chef AU. 

like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry. Explicit. Alpha/Beta/Omega AU. 

Nos Amours. Teen. Baseball AU. Outsider POV. 

raising hell all over town series:

roll like a rolling stone. Explicit. F/M. 

every inch of my tar black soul. Explicit. F/M. 

Jack Eichel/Noah Hanifin - just two massholes in love

your need grows teeth. Teen. Established relationship. 

you’re in the wind, i’m in the water. Explicit. F/M. Established relationship.

if one thing had been different. Teen. Time travel AU. Established relationship. Past/background Connor/Jack. 

one poisoned and one crucified. Explicit. Internalized homophobia. Infidelity. 

honey and milk are under thy tongue. Explicit. F/M. Regency AU. Friends to lovers. 

all of you, all of me (intertwined). Teen. Cuddle roster. Getting together.

like death loves war. Teen. World War II AU. Secret relationship.

the road not taken (looks real good now). Teen. Football AU. Not hockey players AU. Home for Christmas. 

summer’s in the air (heaven’s in your eyes). Explicit. Friends with benefits to lovers.

my church offers no absolution (tells me worship in the bedroom). Explicit. Bondage. Impact Play. Painplay. Face slapping. Kink Discovery.  

twilight’s last gleaming. Explicit. Friends with Benefits. 

kissing in the blue dark. Explicit. Established relationship. 

tell me how good it feels (to be needed). Explicit. Getting together. Dom/sub undertones. 

Jack Eichel/Connor McDavid/Noah Hanifin - boyfriends-in-law

the board, the lightning, the thunder. Explicit. Dom/sub. Partner sharing. Rough sex.

between you and me. Explicit. Polyamory. 

Jack Eichel/Connor McDavid/Leon Draisaitl - fucking the guy who’s fucking the guy you want to fuck

laws of transitivity. Explicit. Threesome. 

Jack Eichel/Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome - the rookie ot3

Name a Game to Play Series:

Come Light Me Up. Explicit. Getting together. 

That’s How I Want It. Explicit. Established relationship. 

Been Waiting and Waiting for You. Explicit. Established relationship. 

Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome - i’m a great best friend

we are the ones (the ones you left behind). Explicit. Connor/Dylan friends to lovers, Dylan/Jack friends with benefits. 

Jack Eichel/Auston Matthews - boys with rough edges

(we are the) New Americana. Mature. Friends with benefits. 

Jack Eichel - it’s a story about not being wanted and thriving anyway

we’ll keep on fighting (til the end). Teen. Character study. 

[teluete]

"...Here we have two magnificent specimens of the Canadian Hockey Robot." — Ransom & Holster, probably

[iddayidnight]

how did you get into McEichel?

Oh, the lore. You can sort of trace the descent through my AO3 fandoms 😅

When I was on Tumblr in the 20-teens more and more of my mutuals gradually started posting about the Check, Please! webcomic. I was not at all interested in sports but it was pretty difficult to NOT read that webcomic in those years if you existed on the fandom side of Tumblr I was on. To me, personally, by far the most interesting character and arc in that webcomic was the whole saga of Kent Parson, so that's where I was spending most of my fannish time.

The more I started reading fic in that fandom, and then especially as I started writing it, the more I started to think that maybe I'd better learn something about actual hockey. I was trying to write a character in the NHL without any actual background in the sport, which was ... tough.

This was 2016 and it happened to coincide with the most boring job I have ever had, which was basically scanning documents all day long. There was not a lot of brain power required. There were a LOT of podcasts consumed. I sought out a few hockey podcasts that felt beginner friendly to occupy some of my time, but since I was coming in SO blind, I started these podcasts back in time about a year figuring it would give me some background to be able to catch up on the plotlines, so to speak. So, I was listening to a lot of hockey coverage from about the 2015 playoffs forward, which happened to be the McEichel draft.

It will surprise nobody to learn that I was mostly intrigued by the Jack of it all. Connor was definitely an important foil and plot point in Jack's story, but he's always been a little bit more of an ... accessory for me. (Sorry. I like an athlete who is haunted by the narrative. Little did we know then how true this would continue to be).

Anyway, I gradually started reading McEichel fic (those were the GOLDEN DAYS) and then very gradually (after overcoming some RPF hesitation) started writing it. And here we (still) are!

TL;DR: fell down the Check, Please! rabbit hole like so many hockey RPF writers before me.

[iddayidnight]

Hockey RPF Masterpost

For your easy browsing. Enjoy 💖  

Keep reading

[iddayidnight]

https://www.nhl.com/goldenknights/news/lawless-eichel-reflects-on-nhl-draft-experience-10-years-after-going-second-overall

I need your thoughts on this

Hi SO sorry this languished in my inbox for as long as it did, lmfao. From a McEichel angle, !!! you have nothing but great things to say about him?? you have a cordial relationship? I feel like we don't get a lot of confirmation that they actually talk, so these little nuggets are always fun.

From a totally non fic perspective though this is hilarious. Lawless being like "hey so when you're old and gray are you guys gonna share some beers and reminisce about the good old days?" and Jack flatly being like. No. We're not friends. this man is SO sick of being asked about Connor McDavid. Too bad you're both haunted by the narrative.

[iddayidnight]

somebody recommended your fics, I've been enjoying them!

thank you so much!! 💖

[iddayidnight]

every single time i check the mceichel tag and see a new fic from you, I weep with joy. absolute joy.

😭💖 thank you!!

[iddayidnight]

omg thx for doing the request it’s so good ✨🤌

🫡

[iddayidnight]

Hi I was reading your new mceichel fic this part in your fic “Connor laughs into his skin. “Well, I never said that,” he says. He turns his head and licks over the skin of Jack’s other thigh, worries a bruise there as well. His every move is deliberate and sensual, his mouth hot and wet and tender. Jack closes eyes against the memory – Connor writhing against his sheets, two neat lines of hickeys marching up his inner thighs, knee to groin. The teeth-mark ring of bruises on his hip. The text that followed: I’m not going to be able to wear shorts for a month.” Reminds me of this tumblr edit!!!

https://www.tumblr.com/reneserseya/675473739141529600/generally-speaking-darnell-is-content-to-not

Yes!! I was definitely ✨inspired✨ by this edit 💖

[iddayidnight]

I love the McEichel fics specifically feminization fic! Like the possessiveness of Jack

With the oilers & Vegas in playoff, I want to see Connor in jacks jersey or vice versa

Them leaving hickeys & marks on each others

😘

here ya go

[iddayidnight]

Ain't that the truth lol

https://vegashockeynow.com/2025/02/21/golden-knights-analysis-connor-mcdavid-jack-eichel-problem/?s=09

Connor McDavid’s Jack Eichel problem: also the thesis of each and every McEichel fic

[iddayidnight]

It's not quite WIP amnesty, but could you spill your headcanons about Connor, in honey and milk? He's just the best brother for Jack, he's so sour and weird but clearly they're the best of siblings. And I loved his little sideplot, I've always wondered who his young woman in the letters was (and fingers crossed for who it is and that they got together)

oh, I love this question! allow me to ramble because I have only half-baked headcanons for him in this verse 🤣 he's mostly included as a plot device to make Noah Realize Things via jealousy tbh.

So I feel like the whole drama of the Jack/Connor relationship in this verse is that they became basically step-siblings at a weird age. Like, they were both old enough that they had their own family thing going on and their own siblings, and then all the sudden they were living together ALL THE TIME without ever knowing each other. Jack was both a. slightly feral and b. grieving her parents dying and then her sister getting married and literally her whole life changing and probably agreed with you that Connor was WEIRD. I think he didn't get properly socialized, especially with girls his age, because he was away at an all boys school from a very young age, and then there is this GIRL in his house. And then on top of that, they are both at the age where they are just becoming actual adults in this world that has a lot of rules for how adult men and women interact with each other which they're both being immersed in at school (and especially Jack being "finished" with formal schooling for the first time). I just think they don't have a lot in common and do NOT get each other at first, and don't know how to interact with each other and so probably revert to avoidance and mild dislike, and then as they spend more time around each other and grow up they kind of figure out a friendship that works for them even when it's weird for other people.

it's also weird for other people because there's always this ... implication? ... that they're the same age and people are always eyeing them like they're the next to fall in love. but Jack is down bad for Noah and also they just genuinely (in this verse) are like... genuinely siblings. So I see them becoming allies for each other because they are the same age with similar friend groups and expectations of them (esp. with Connor as the younger son) so they can finally understand the pressures in their lives, especially when they are both pining (for different people). They can hang out at balls when Connor doesn't want to socialize and Jack doesn't like anyone else there enough to chill.

As far as Connor's mystery girl, cast her as you will! I didn't really have a specific person in mind. I do see his letter being her finally expressing her feelings for him, so he's rushing off to seal the deal.

[iddayidnight]

WIP Amnesty

One of SEVERAL vegas marriage aus I have started over the years. RIP Vegas Wedding.

In much the grand tradition of Las Vegas, Connor doesn’t exactly remember all of the night before. Or... he doesn’t remember most of the night before.  

He definitely remembers some of it. He doesn’t remember how much he had to drink, precisely, but based on the way he’s feeling he can guess it was probably too much. By a lot. He remembers being out after the skills competition with Leon. Remembers running into some of the American guys – Matthews, and Werenski, and Larkin. And... 

He rolls over, groaning. He feels too hot under the covers, sticky and uncomfortable. And there’s someone in bed with him, making everything much warmer, and –  

He turns his head. Oh god. He knows that back.  

And Jack was with them, too, with all the American guys. Leon had teased him about that, about crashing the All Star Game, and he’d just laughed. He’d looked really happy, Connor remembers thinking. He’d even smiled at Connor, thrown an arm around his shoulders like they were friends, and he’d said... something, about Connor scoring, maybe? 

Jack shifts, rolls over. His hair is short, and Connor keeps looking at the scar on his neck, and – he’d touched it last night, he’s pretty sure. He’d asked about it, and Jack said, “it doesn’t hurt, dude,” and... he must have been pretty drunk, if he was touching Jack’s neck, but. He’s pretty sure he did.  

“Oh god,” Connor says, and rolls onto his belly, just so he can put his face somewhere dark.  

And he’s pretty sure that Leon had said something about Connor hanging all over Jack, because he was teasing Connor about it all night, because he had teased Connor about it for years, and he’s pretty sure that Jack had laughed again, and then Matthews said something, maybe...  

Buy a guy a drink, that’s what Matthews had said, or something like it, and Connor had just laughed, because he was drunk enough that it was funny, and then he had, towing Jack through the crowd by the wrist, and then... 

Ugh, then it goes a little blurry. They’d lost the group for a while, or what had felt like a while, and Jack had found them a booth and they’d talked, drunk and loud and words overlapping, until they’d been found again, and someone had called them... boyfriends, maybe? Something teasing. And Jack had said...  

Oh god. Connor’s definitely going to be sick.  

Jack had laughed, suddenly, like he hadn’t expected to do it, and it had made Connor laugh, too, and then Jack had put his arm around him again, and he’d said... “he wishes,” and then Leon... 

Leon had laughed, too, and he’d said, “he sure fucking does.” 

Fuck.  

“Hey,” Jack says, suddenly, and then there’s a hand on Connor’s back, warm and broad, and he burrows his face deeper into the pillows. “You okay?” 

Connor turns his head enough to say, “no, I’m dying.” 

“Sorry to hear that,” Jack says, and it sounds like he’s laughing, so Connor turns his head just a little more, to look at his face, and. Yep. Smiling again, which is weird.  

“You okay?” Connor asks.  

“I feel way better than you look,” Jack says, “but you drank, like. Way more than me.” 

“Fuck,” Connor says again, and puts his face back in the pillow.  

“Want some water?” Jack asks, and then he gets up to get some before Connor can say anything else.  

Leon had said, “he sure fucking does,” and Matthews had laughed, too, and sprawled across the booth, and said, “you’ve come a long way from hating each other, huh?” and Connor had said, “we never hated each other,” just as Jack had said, “we don’t hate each other,” and – he'd tightened his arm, and then Werenski had said, “I can tell,” and Larkin had elbowed him and said, “no, I think they should prove it.” 

Jack sits down on the edge of the bed next to Connor; the mattress dips. Connor rolls on to his side, reaching for the glass, and sips out of it as best he can propped up on one elbow.  

“Thanks,” he mutters, and Jack takes it from him, and puts it on the nightstand, and then runs a hand through Connor’s hair, which. He feels better suddenly, actually.  

“No worries,” Jack says. “Hey, what are husbands for?” 

… 

(In Calgary, at four in the morning, Noah sleeps through all sixteen snapchats. When he wakes up, he thumbs through them with growing horror, sits up in bed, and says, “oh, what the fuck.” 

Then he texts Jack, and says, PLEASE tell me you did not marry Connor McDavid in Vegas last night.  

It’s a few hours later when Jack finally texts back, oh, I definitely did. But it was on a dare, and it was super fucking funny.  

Angle for the dog in the divorce, Noah says, because he saw that certificate, and then he goes to take a shower before his phone buzzes again.) 

… 

“Are you actually okay,” Jack asks. 

Connor groans, head in his hands. He has his feet on the floor, now, sitting on the edge of the bed, but he doesn’t feel any steadier. Jack keeps patting his back, sitting next to him, which would be weirder if Connor wasn’t suddenly having a vivid flashback of holding his hand last night, for most of the night. Because they were married.  

“We didn’t get married last night,” he says. “We didn’t... we wouldn’t.”  

“Oh, we did,” Jack says. “But, to be fair, it was, like. Super funny.” 

“Who’s idea was it,” Connor says, head pounding. “If it was Leon, I’m going to kill him.” 

“It was definitely yours,” Jack says. “I mean, after we kissed you had your mind pretty much made up.” 

“Fuck,” Connor says, with feeling. “We... wait, no. It’s all coming back now. Sort of.” 

Because Larkin had said, “I think they should prove it,” and Connor had blurted, “what do you want us to do, get married, or something?” 

And Matthews had snorted, and said, “yeah, that would be fucking hilarious,” and Werenski had said, “not like you’d ever do it, though,” and Larkin had said, “I dare you,” and then.  

Elvis.  

“Is it.” Connor says, now. “Legal?” 

“I don’t know,” Jack says. “I mean, my mom would say no, because there was definitely no priest. And I’m pretty sure Nevada says no, because we didn’t sign anything, but. Maybe, I guess?” 

“Oh, my god,” Connor says, into the palms of his hands. “Listen, dude. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s whatever,” Jack says. “I mean, it was funny last night, we had a great time. And hey, you got the raw end of the deal. You’re the one stuck with me.” 

Connor looks up at him. He’s smiling. He’d been smiling last night, standing in front of Elvis, holding Connor’s hands, laughing over at his boys every once in a while. He’d kissed him at the altar, which had been unexpected, and then again, later, and. Connor remembers that part perfectly. How Leon had been ribbing them about being newlyweds, so Connor had leaned over to kiss him, in the bar next door to the chapel, with a bottle of champagne open on the table. Connor had mostly missed his lips, and then Jack had reached up to cup his chin and had aligned their mouths, and then Jack had been kissing him for real, long and deep, thumb stroking over his jaw, ignoring the way everyone else was whooping. 

“Sure,” Connor says, and almost follows with, that’s the least bad part of this, is that it’s you, but. He doesn’t. He pushes to his feet. “I’m gonna –” he says, and then gestures toward the bathroom, where he sits down on the toilet and begins googling, ignoring the hundreds of text messages rolling in. Then, with at least some of his queasiness fading, he decides to brush his teeth. Jack’s shirt is crumpled up on the floor of the bathroom, and. 

“We didn’t...” he says, poking his head out into the room, where Jack is scrolling through his own phone, sprawled across the bed. “Right?” 

“Huh?” Jack asks, and then his face clears when he sees the shirt in Connor’s hand, and he laughs again, shaking his head. “No, believe me, you were in no state. Why, do you want to now?” 

“What?” Connor says, heart pounding.  

“Well, I mean,” Jack says, shrugging, already looking back down at his phone, smiling in the way that tells Connor he’s about to say something that he thinks is very funny. “What’s a blowjob between husbands?” 

“Funny,” Connor says, mouth dry, and throws Jack’s shirt into his face. He puts it back on, which is good, because. It was kind of distracting, the other way. “The good news is, we’re not actually married. I looked it up, we would have needed a marriage license.” 

“That’s great news,” Jack says, standing and stretching. 

That shouldn’t bother Connor, but. He swallows, looks at his feet. “Yeah.” 

“Well, for you, I mean,” Jack says. “We didn’t sign a prenup or anything, so. You would have definitely owed me some spousal support, bigshot.” 

“Oh,” he says, and then his phone actually rings, so he looks down at it. It’s Leon, and he doesn’t pick up, but he knows why Leon’s calling, anyway.   

“Hey, I have to meet Leon for breakfast, do you, uh. Wanna come?” 

“Sure,” Jack says, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Buy a guy breakfast after you marry him, that seems like the least you could do.” 

In the elevator down, they bump shoulders. “Hey, uh,” Jack says, leaning into him. “What do you say we don’t... tell the guys, yet? That it’s not real?” 

“What?” 

“Well, like,” Jack says, shrugging. “It’s funny, you have to admit. It was funny last night, but mostly because they were so weird about it. So I just think it’d be funnier, if we made them keep thinking we were legit, you know?” He reaches out with his foot, taps Connor’s toe. “Like, people are going to keep talking about us, I figure we might as well get some amusement out of it, you know?” 

“Sure,” Connor says, and Jack’s smiling again, and it makes Connor smile back. Jack looks good, without the weight of the world on his shoulders – happiness looks good on him. “I mean, why not.” 

… 

(Jack still hasn’t replied by the time Noah gets out of the shower. He texts Johnny, instead, says, I can’t believe you let this happen, even though he can believe it.  

I wasn’t even there! Johnny sends back. Blame Larks.  

I can’t believe you missed it, Noah fires off, and then, are there pictures or is Eichs just fucking with me.  

It’s definitely for real, Johnny says. They were making out all night, and then they left together. He follows it up with a little bride emoji. Noah flips him off. 

I do NOT want pictures of that, he says.) 

… 

[iddayidnight]

WIP Amnesty

jesus 😅 this is a blast from my past. A multimedia format crack fic in which Jack runs a fan blog about Connor but he's not actually a fan (and it's a non AU). This one is missing some chunks that were intended to be written into the middle for context but we can muddle through.

WELCOME TO TUMBLR!  

Email: [email protected] 

Password: C0nn0rMcD@vidSux 

Blog Name: Jack Eichel 

Blog Name: ConaldMcDonald 

Blog Title: Do I fucking need both things? 

Blog Title: McDavid can suck my big fat 

Blog Title: The Book of the Prophet McJesus 

Description: No, I don’t like Connor McDavid. Yes, I run a blog about him. There is such thing as a stupid question.  

Icon: unflatteringmcdavidpic.jpg 

… 

Anonymous asked: your blog is really funny! You don’t have to answer (this might be one of the stupid questions) but what do you think his favorite color is? 

ConaldMcDonald  

How the fuck should I know? 

… 

[Me] I have a bizarre question for you but just play along  

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Who is this?  

[Me] Jack  

[Me] Eichel  

[Me] YOU took MY number at the draft  

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Yes, sorry. Hi!  

[Me] what did you have me saved as exactly  

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] uh just a hockey emoji which in hindsight wasn’t really that descriptive 

[Me] …okay whatever. What’s your favorite kind of candy?  

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Why?  

[Me] idk why not 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)]  What exactly are you going to do with this information?  

[Me] what could I possibly do with it that’s got you this freaked out  

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Reese’s  

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] You’re right, this is bizarre 

… 

[Me] So, uh 

[Me] I did something kind of dumb 

[Hannnyyyy 🥵💦🍑] ? What else is new 

[Me] I maybe kind of made out with McDavid 

[Hannnyyyy 🥵💦🍑] JACK what the FUCK 

[Me] I don’t know it just happened 

[Hannnyyyy 🥵💦🍑] You’re so dumb 

[Hannnyyyy 🥵💦🍑] You know you’re just gonna get your heartbroken 

[Hannnyyyy 🥵💦🍑] again 

… 

[Hannnyyyy 🥵💦🍑] DON’T do anything else with him this weekend 

[Hannnyyyy 🥵💦🍑] Eichs 

[Hannnyyyy 🥵💦🍑] JACK 

[Me] 😬 

[Hannnyyyy 🥵💦🍑] FUCK dude 

… 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Hey, so. I had fun this weekend.  

[Me] Yeah 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Hope to see you around soon? 

[Me] Like.... see me or like SEE ME 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Honestly both 

[Me] No promises 

… 

[Davo] Okay so it wasn’t a yes but it wasn’t a no either 

[Stromer 🦦] Dude you’re fucked up about this 

[Davo] Yeah kind of 

[Stomer 🦦] Over JACK EICHEL. Fucking wild.  

[Davo] I just like him 

[Davo] I know he doesn’t like me 

[Davo] but I feel like he doesn’t hate me either 

[Stromer 🦦] it’s JACK EICHEL. He’s like a SOFT SIX ON A GOOD DAY.  

[Davo] okay – pot/kettle 

[Stromer 🦦] WOW 

… 

Anonymous asked: are you Jack Eichel 

Yeah for sure. I just do this in my spare time for a laugh.  

… 

Anonymous asked: McStrome headcanon? 🥺 

no 

… 

[Davo] I can’t stop thinking about your mouth 

[Stromer 🦦] OKAY THANKS FOR SHARING WITH THE CLASS 🤮 

[Stromer 🦦] I can only assume this was meant for.... someone else 

[Stromer 🦦] Perhaps mr. Soft six himself 

[Davo] oh god 

[Stromer 🦦] But maybe not so soft eh? 

[Davo] oh god 

[Stomer 🦦] hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha 

… 

[Dylan Strome (DO NOT ANSWER)] yo dude you’ll NEVER GUESS what just got misdelivered to me 

[Dylan Strome (DO NOT ANSWER)] “I can’t stop thinking about your mouth” 

[Dylan Strome (DO NOT ANSWER)] To be very clear I am forwarding this message. I can go a very long time without thinking about your mouth.  

[Me] That doesn’t narrow it down. A lot of people want to fuck me.  

[Dylan Strome (DO NOT ANSWER)] Only one of them is hyperventilating in Edmonton rn  

[Me] as far as you know 

… 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Jack I’m so fucking sorry 

[Me] so I guess your friends know... 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] I’m sorry. Really. I was switching between threads and got mixed up.  

[Me] it’s fine  

[Me] really 

[Me] next time you can just send it directly to me though 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] next time? 

[Me] I mean yeah 

[Me] You’re gonna have to step up your game though. That was pretty tame.  

… 

[FACETIME from Connor McDavid (ugh)] 

Incoming Call 

43 Minutes 

… 

Anonymous asked: Connor McDavid headcanon – does he sext? 

He tries 

… 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] I’m still thinking about your mouth 

[Me] you said that last time 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] it’s still true.  

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Now I’m thinking about you fucking me.  

[Me] sweet 

[Me] the sex I mean your dirty talk still needs some work 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] okay well you asked me to try 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] honestly I mostly just want to hold your hand 

[Me] fuck 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] Jack? 

[Me] hold up I dropped a glass  

[Me] I need to clean this up, give me five 

[Connor McDavid (ugh)] call me when you’re done 

… 

Anonymous asked: it’s been 84 years. Do you think Connor McDavid is hot yet? 

No. I’d still fuck him tho. 

… 

Anonymous asked: okay I know you don’t think McEichel is real but IF IT WAS how did they get together?  

Absolutely never in 1 million years is it real. But Jack would ask him out and keep it pretty low key because they couldn’t go out in public but maybe they could just cook something at home together and watch baseball and maybe hold hands. Yeah. That sounds nice. 

… 

Anonymous asked: PLEASE I’M BEGGING I love McStrome so much 😔 

Blocked 

… 

Anonymous asked: why do you run a Connor McDavid blog if you hate him 

Just a masochist I guess 

… 

Anonymous asked: you’re so mean to him 🤣 

He likes it 

… 

New Post from: Connor McDavid’s resting existential dread face 

Reblog [connormcdavidawkwardairportpic.jpg] 

What in the fresh hell is this 

… 

Blog description: I met Connor McDavid at an airport and he told me I was pretty 

… 

[Me] okay so uhhhhhhh 

[Me] I have something to tell you 

[Me] It’s gonna be weird 

[Me] and I'm just going to need you to pretend like it’s not that weird 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] okay? 

[Me] I kinda have a blog about you 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] …. what? 

[Me] like five years ago I was kinda drunk and I started a blog about you 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] Is this like... a porn thing? 

[Me] oh my god no I would never run a porn blog about you 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] thanks? I guess? 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] is it a hockey blog? 

[Me] not exactly 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] okay wait I just googled my name and the word blog. Why are there so many? 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] why do I feel like yours is the one called “Not Jack Eichel”? 

[Me] okay yeah that’s the one 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] this is just you roasting me 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] why do you need a blog when you just do this to my face? 

[Me] because I didn’t do it to your face before? 

[Me] Now I do a lot of things to your face.... 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] Jack 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] you’re on thin fucking ice 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] WHY DID YOU REBLOG THAT AIRPORT PHOTO? 

[Me] so... are you... like... mad... 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] I’m pretending like it’s not that weird 

[Me] I can delete it if you want 

[Me] but I wanted to be honest with you 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] Oh 🥺 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] That’s really sweet, Jack  

[Me] stop 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] No. You LIKE me.  

[Me] STOP 

… 

[FACETIME from Connor McDavid (babe)] 

Incoming Call 

2 hours 12 Minutes 

… 

 [Connor McDavid (babe)] Hey - thanks for trusting me with your blog, babe, I really don’t think it’s that weird and I respect whatever decision you want to make with keeping it.  

[Connor McDavid (babe)] Unrelated- check out this cool account I just made  

[Connor McDavid (babe)] LINK: [instagram name: jackeichelcouldrawme] 

[Me] why would I draw you? 

[Me] oh 

[Me] OH 

[Me] UGH 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] ❤️ 

[Me] for the record, I ALWAYS use protection 

… 

[Me] wait could I really 

[Connor McDavid (babe)] ? 

[Me] raw you 

[Me] I fucking hate that you made me say that  

… 

[FACETIME from Connor McDavid (babe)] 

Incoming Call 

28 Minutes 

… 

[Me] STOP sending me thirsty comments from your finsta  

[Me] Sext me yourself you coward 

… 

New Post from: NotJackEichel 

hey so this will be the last post, I’m deactivating. Connor McDavid fell madly in love with me and it feels weird to keep doing this. Can’t say I enjoyed the experience but I got my man so I guess it paid off.  

… 

[iddayidnight]

WIP Amnesty

Magical Realism

Connor’s magic is easy, quick and sparkling and golden.  

Jack had seen it the first time they met, manifesting itself as if a living thing, sparking around his fingers. When they shook hands, it shimmered into view, had danced up Connor’s arms, over his shoulders, and crowned him briefly, glimmering in his hair. Jack had watched as one of the stray bits of magic tumbled down over his outstretched arm and skipped across Connor’s forearm. He’d almost expected to feel it, burning like an ember, but it had vanished before it could touch Jack’s skin at all.  

It had fizzled back out of sight when their hands had fallen apart.  

Jack’s always been able to see the magic around him, but he’d never seen it like that before.  

“What do you mean, you can see magic,” Draisaitl says, not quite scowling even though his mouth clearly wants to.  

Jack shrugs, uncomfortable. He hadn’t brought it up, doesn’t like to talk about it, but. Almost a decade later, and nothing has changed. He can still see magic, and Connor still has more than his share of it.  

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. “I can just kind of see when it happens for other people. Like, what their magic is.” 

As if on cue, the air around Draisaitl’s hands vibrates minutely, a shifting of air around his knuckles. He reaches for his phone expectantly, and it rings a full five seconds later. Draisaitl stabs at the end button, then puts his phone back on the table face down.  

“Like, I can tell that you always know the phone is going to ring before it actually does,” Jack says, into his beer, and Connor nudges Draisaitl with his elbow as if to say, see? Because it had been him, who had brought it up. Because he’s always been interested in Jack’s useless party trick.  

Draisaitl raises an eyebrow. Jack’s not particularly comfortable around the Pacific guys, but that’s what he is now. A Pacific guy. So he’s here, gamely nursing a beer and waiting for a moment when he can gracefully make an escape.  

“That’s cool,” Hughes says, “do me!” 

“It doesn’t really work like that,” Jack says, taking another large swig from his glass. The sooner he’s done, the sooner he can leave. “I can't just look at you and tell. I only see it when it’s like... happening. Like my mom, she’s never late for work – but I can only tell that if I’m in the car with her and she’s driving there. Or like now, with Drat’s phone. I could only tell right before it rang.” 

“Damn,” Hughes says absently. “Mine’s boring, anyway. Just that stuff doesn’t break when I drop it.” 

“What about mine?” Connor says suddenly, brow creased.  

Jack swallows the rest of his beer, uncomfortable.  

Because for some reason, Connor’s magic doesn’t work like everyone else’s does. His is always there, clinging to him. Jack could only see it when they were touching, at first. They'd brush elbows and Connor’s magic would spark to life around him – as good a reason as any other to avoid touching him.  

But now Jack’s seen it enough, has spent enough time with him over the years, that he can tell either way. It’s fainter, when he’s sitting across the table like he is now, but he can still tell that it’s there, catch the faint shimmer in the air around him. It looks different from other people’s magic, too – most of the time Jack catches a near-invisible shudder of air, like a heat wave, but Connor’s magic always shimmers gold. It’s clustered in his hair right now, haloed around his forehead, and Jack brushes their feet together just to watch it roar into its full glory, a flaming crown that Connor blinks against, heedless.  

Jack lifts a shoulder. Connor quirks his head – he's asked before, what Jack thinks his magic is. Asked at the draft when Jack pinned that Dylan had never had a bad cup of coffee, asked during the World Cup when he’d known that Matty never needed to use an iron. He’s never been satisfied with Jack’s answer. “What about yours?” he says.  

[iddayidnight]

WIP Amnesty

This fic was just called "cops and robbers" in my files. I think it was vaguely Leverage inspired? But it's been so long I genuinely can't remember.

“Stop!” 

The masked man doesn’t even turn at Connor’s shout, pounding up the last flight of stairs. Connor follows, hot on his heels just as he bursts through the roof access door.  

Connor slows on the last few steps. He’s cornered himself now, and Connor hasn’t chased down a suspect in years – after seven flights of stairs, he’s winded.  

He doesn’t look cornered, though, the masked man. He’s standing near the edge of the roof as if waiting for Connor, casual and unbothered. He’s wearing dark clothes, in addition to the mask that covers the top half of his face, but Connor can still see the white flash of his grin.  

He’s close enough to the edge of the roof that Connor doesn’t charge at him. “You don’t have anywhere to go,” he says. “Why don’t you come with me, and we can talk about what you were doing in the server room.” 

“Or,” the man says, “we could talk about what you were doing in the server room.” 

Connor flashes his badge. “I’m with the police,” he says, “and we got a tip that there was a man in the server room. Now you.” 

“They send detectives on foot chases, now?” the man wonders out loud.  

“When they’re closest to the call,” Connor says. And when they’re bored enough that they volunteer. “Come on. Step away from the ledge, and we can talk about it.” 

“Oh,” the man says, and then he looks behind himself, down the thirty stories, and laughs. “You don’t have to worry about me jumping. I’ve got another way down.” 

“Exactly,” Connor says. “There’s a better way out of this. We can get somewhere safe, and then we can talk about it.” 

The man laughs again. “Talk about this?” he flashes a thumb drive, then puts it back into his pocket. “Sure, we can talk about it. What do you want to know?” He takes another step back, closer to the roof’s edge.  

“What’s on the drive,” Connor asks.  

“Oh, this and that,” the man says. “Enough to prove it.” 

“Prove what,” Connor says, attempting to keep his voice level. He steps forward, and the man takes another step back – so Connor puts his hands up, says, “okay, okay,” and takes a step back himself.  

“Tell me,” the man says. “As an officer of the law. You’d say that killing people is wrong, yes?” 

“Yes,” Connor agrees.  

“Well, they’re killing people,” the guy says. “This drug that they’re making, it’s killing people. And they’re covering it up.” 

“You can report things like that, if it’s true.” 

“Sure, right,” the guy says. He’s not smiling anymore. “You don’t think people have tried that? Parents of all those kids? Lawyers? The thing is – if you kill someone, you go to jail. If a corporation does it, then what happens? Bad PR? A fine? Companies like this, it’s just the cost of doing business to them. They run calculations. How many people can we kill before it impacts the bottom line? There’s an acceptable number, to them. A number of people they’re willing to kill. With absolutely no consequences.” 

“Listen,” Connor says, placatingly. “If what you’re saying is true, there are people who will look into it. I appreciate that you have noble goals, okay, but it doesn’t require criminal activity.” 

“Doesn’t it?” 

“No,” Connor says. He longs to look at his phone, but he can’t take his eyes off the man. When they’d split up, Leon had been calling for backup – but the elevators in the building are down, today of all days. Backup will have to climb 30 flights of stairs. “If you care about helping people, you can do it in legal ways.” 

“What’s to say I don’t?” the man says. He takes another step back, a foot from the edge. He’s still casual, though, he doesn’t seem distressed at all. He’s as tall as Connor, fit, fair. Connor couldn’t ID him in a lineup confidently, though, not with the way his face is covered. And the way he’s talking, he’s clearly making an effort to change the tenor of his voice, falsely lowering it.  

Then, all at once – the door behind Connor bursts open, his backup arriving at last. The masked man ambles closer to the edge of the building, and says, “it’s been a pleasure, detective.”  

And then he disappears over the side.  

… 

Connor’s still in a foul mood the next day. He keeps replaying the moment in his head, the moment where the man disappeared over the edge of the roof – not jumping so much as stepping off. The moment where Connor rushed after him, a uniformed officer hot on his heels – but there was no crushed corpse on the pavement below. The man had disappeared as if into thin air.  

A cleverly attached rappel device, Connor’s come to realize. Something he hooked up in the moment before Connor had followed him onto the roof.  

It has to be that, because Connor would have seen if he was dead.  

Still, the situation is sitting uneasy with him. Partly the bizarre disappearance, partly the way he protested... not his innocence, but his motivation. 

Partly the way he’d called Connor ‘detective’ with such confidence, although Connor had never had a chance to introduce himself.  

And now, after a thorough dressing down from his chief, Connor’s late for court, which is not his favorite place to be even on a good day.  

Just as Connor’s striding up the front steps of the courthouse, his phone rings. Leon.  

“Can’t talk,” Connor says, pausing outside the metal detectors. “I’m going into court.” 

“Oh, right, the Strahan case,” Leon says. “Who’s the defense attorney on that?” 

“I don’t know, nobody I recognized,” Connor says. “Eichman, something like that?” 

“Eichel?” Leon says, “Jack Eichel?” 

“Maybe.” 

Leon whistles.  

“What?” Connor snaps.  

“Nothing, just. Be on your game, he’s tough,” Leon says. “Surprised he’s on this one, he usually does bigger cases.” 

“It’s open and shut, I’ll be fine,” Connor says irritably. “I don’t even know why Murray called me, they have plenty of evidence without my testimony.” 

“Alright, well. Good luck. And don’t forget about the briefing this afternoon.” 

“Yeah, I won’t,” Connor says.  

Despite Leon’s warning, he is distracted throughout his testimony – and the defense is tough on cross. Connor has little enough impact on the case that he’s lucky to get through on autopilot.  

Leon’s texted him when Connor has the chance to check his phone afterwards – briefing pushed back to 4:30.  

That gives him enough time to grab a coffee, at least, before getting back to the station. There’s a small shop across the street from the courthouse, so Connor wanders in and gets in the back of the long line, pulling out his phone to scroll through emails as he waits.  

“Buy you a coffee, detective?” 

The voice comes close to his ear, startling him – Connor turns, says, “what?” 

It’s the defense attorney behind him, Eichel. He’s smiling now, and there’s something – something that makes Connor blurt, “have we met before?” 

But he knows they’ve never met. It’s just his exhausted brain, mixing up pieces of yesterday’s incident with today’s. Something about the way that Eichel said ‘detective,’ the way he smiled, it reminded Connor of... 

But, obviously, it’s impossible, and Connor knows that he’s never met Eichel before.  

“Sorry, never mind,” he says.  

Eichel shrugs. “We’ve worked in the same city for years, I’m sure you’ve seen me around. Surprised we haven’t met earlier, actually. I’ve had the pleasure of cross-examining your partner many times.” 

“He told me,” Connor says drily, as they shuffle up in line.  

“So?” 

“So, what,” Connor says.  

“So, can I buy you a coffee,” Eichel says, in the same pointed tone he’d used in the courtroom.  

Connor glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Sure, I guess,” he says. “That’s a pretty nice suit for a public defender, so I’m going to assume you can afford it.” 

Eichel laughs at that. “Yeah, I think I’m good for... let me guess, a small black coffee?” 

Connor shrugs. 

“Besides, I’m not a public defender.” 

Eichel must catch the look of surprise, because he raises his eyebrows. 

“Just,” Connor says, “honestly, wondering how Strahan is affording you.” 

“He’s not,” Eichel says. “Pro bono.” 

“Pro bono for a low-level drug charge.” 

Eichel laughs again, with less humor. “As I’m sure you know, detective, everyone has the right to an attorney.” 

They get to the counter before Connor can answer – Eichel orders his coffee and Connor’s, then pays in cash, slipping the change from a twenty into the tip jar. The barista goes a little starry-eyed. 

Eichel wanders over to the side to wait for their drinks, and Connor follows, smiling awkwardly at the cashier. “Leon said you usually did bigger cases. So I guess I’m wondering – your firm just lets you go to bat for teenage thugs without a hope of winning their case?” 

Eichel works his jaw. “Well, the more clients I have on retainer, the more pro bono work I can do. Which is the point, for me. So yes, I often handle bigger cases. Second, just because he doesn’t have a shot at exoneration – thanks in no small part to your testimony, by the way – doesn't mean that he doesn’t deserve the best defense that he can get. And ‘thug’ is a little harsh for a teenager who hasn’t hurt anyone, I think.” 

“He’s dealing drugs, that does hurt people,” Connor snaps. Then he sighs. “Sorry, I’m. Long night. It’s very noble what you’re doing, and everything, but I’m not sorry that he’s going to prison. That’s the way the law works.” 

“Right, the infallible law,” Eichel says, with a pained smile. “You really think that trying that kid as an adult for trying to make enough cash to pay rent so his younger sister and his cancer-riddled mother don’t lose their home is the fair thing to do?” 

Connor opens his mouth, then shuts it. “It’s not my decision,” he says, finally. “I just. Make the arrests.” 

“I know. But I’m asking you, do you really think that punishing this one kid, punishing him like this – you really think it helps anything? Makes a difference to the bigger problems?” 

“I don’t know,” Connor says, finally, pushing a hand through his hair. “Maybe not. I don’t know.” 

Eichel shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to push. I get... worked up about it all, sometimes. I didn’t mean to trigger the breakdown.” 

He says it like a proper noun – The Breakdown. Connor raises an eyebrow.  

“The breakdown,” Eichel says. “Most people I know in criminal justice, they have it at some point. Wondering if we’re actually doing good, if we’re actually making a difference.” 

Connor shakes his head. “It’s not just you. In fact, you’re the second person in as many days who has taken the time to lecture me on the failings of our criminal justice system. And the first was literally a criminal.” 

Eichel cracks a grin at that. “Well, I’m not sorry, and I don’t like to lie, so I won’t say that I am.” 

Connor snorts. “What about you, have you had the breakdown?” 

“Oh, yeah, years ago,” Eichel says. “Used to be a prosecutor. Then... I switched sides, I guess. So. I’m trying to do the most good. Found a firm that will let me take the hard knock cases, mostly, where I still have the resources to have a fighting chance.” 

“Stealing from the rich to give to the poor,” Connor says sarcastically, but Eichel’s face goes soft. 

“Something like that,” he says.  

When their coffees come up, Eichel grabs them both, presses Connor’s into his hand.  

“I’m going to have to take mine to go,” he says. “Trying another case tomorrow, plenty to do.” 

“Sure. Well. Thanks, Eichel.” 

“Jack,” he says. “And I’m sure I’ll see you around, detective.” 

“Right,” Connor says. “Thanks, Jack.” 

[iddayidnight]

WIP Amnesty

Going through my old files to clear things out and I haven't touched some of for more than four years, so - enjoy the snippets.

Selkie crack!fic below the cut.

“Okay,” Jack says, pressing the pads of his fingers into the middle of his forehead, right where a headache is brewing. “Okay, just. Hold up. Go back. Start over.” 

Connor looks at him gravely. “I was born,” he says.  

“No, I...” Jack sighs, heavily. “I know that part. Obviously.” 

Then he looks up. “Well,” he says. Connor’s clutching the... the coat... between his fingers, all twisted up in his lap. “Actually. Fine. Start there.” 

Connor blinks. “I was born,” he repeats.  

“As a...” Jack trails off. “I mean. Your parents...” 

“Oh, yes,” Connor says. “They are as well.” 

“Selkies,” Jack says, trying the word in his mouth. It’s. Weird. Really fucking weird. 

“Yes,” Connor says. “Actually. My father, he is the King.” 

Jack presses his hands to his eyes. “Oh, what the fuck,” he says. It’s just a lot, okay? He went to dinner, after the game, to hang out with the guys. He didn’t ask Connor to leave his coat behind. It’s a weird fucking coat. It’s like, heavy, and a weird gray-brown, and kind of spotted. Not Jack’s style, but hell, he’d figured it was, like, the kind of expensive, ugly-as-sin shit that a lot of newly rich guys buy. He’d want his coat back, if it was him.  

So he’d picked it up, and brought it to Connor’s room. And then.  

Oh god, and then.  

“You’re...” Jack presses out through numb lips. “You’re a fucking. Selkie. Prince.” 

“I suppose,” Connor says, slowly.  

“Fucking... of course you are.” Jack takes a minute, then puts his hands down. “Okay. I’m... I’m with you. Go on.” 

“Well,” Connor says. “Then nothing else really important happened until tonight.” 

Tonight, when Jack had knocked on the door, and said casually, “hey, man. You left your coat.” Only then, instead of saying something normal, like, “thank you,” Connor had smiled at him, eyes all shiny and wide. He’d pulled Jack gently into the room, closing the door behind him. He’d said, “Oh, Jack. Of course it’s you.” 

He’d sat Jack down on the bed. Jack had said, very wary, “uh. What’s me?” 

“You,” Connor had said again. “You held my soul in your hands and returned it to me. I know now that you deserve to own it. That we are linked. That you are my mate.” 

“Okay,” Jack had said, leaning way back, and thinking that he should probably call Coach. Unless. An ambulance, maybe? “Are you... okay?” 

“Oh, yes,” Connor had said, and then he’d blinked and sat down. He’d always seemed pretty normal to Jack. A little uptight, maybe, but not, like. Calling some dude you barely know your mate crazy. “Ah,” he’d said, looking into Jack’s shocked face. “I should explain.” 

Jack had, admittedly, not been expecting to hear the word selkie. 

“Because,” Jack says slowly, now. “Now something important has happened because I... brought your coat back. Like a normal human being.” 

“Because,” Connor says, his eyes going all happy-shiny again, “you possess my pelt.” 

“No,” Jack says. Yep, definitely getting a migraine. “You possess your... pelt. You’re holding it.” 

“Yes, but. In my culture, a human possessing a selkie’s pelt – it's akin to. Well. Marriage.” 

At that, Jack springs to his feet. “Hold the fuck up,” he blurts. “I’m nineteen years old. You’re nineteen years old. We’re not fucking married.” 

But he can tell by the look on Connor’s face. They definitely, definitely are. 

… 

Jack flees. He’s not proud of it, but. It’s not every day that he gets accidentally magic-married to his sworn nemesis, who also happens to be a seal-boy.  

Jesus. Christ.  

Jack actually does pray a little when he gets back to his room, mostly because it’s too late to call anybody else. It doesn’t help. Nobody answers, and Connor knocks on his door like three minutes later anyway.  

Jack shouldn’t open the door. He does.  

Connor’s still holding the coat. His face is still very earnest. “I understand that you’re probably confused.” 

Jack laughs, entirely against his will. “Confused?” he says. He pulls Connor in, not touching the coat, and then pushes him up against the closed door. “An hour ago, I didn’t even know that you existed. Your... you, as in Selkies, I mean. And now. There are fucking. Seal people? Running around? And you’re one of them? And we’re married?” 

“Well,” Connor says. He’s looking at Jack strangely, like. Up through his lashes. It makes Jack feel... weird. 

“Stop that,” Jack says. “What is that? That look?” 

“Oh,” Connor says, blinking, and raising his head. “Sorry. Actually, the, um. Seal people thing. That’s kind of offensive.” 

“Sorry,” Jack says automatically.  

“But,” Connor says. “The rest.” He shrugs.  

Jack steps back. “Prove it,” he says.  

… 

Connor runs the bath very cold. Then he starts taking off his clothes, which. Jack didn’t really think about. He’s very committed, Jack will admit.  

Naked, Connor looks solemnly at Jack where he’s perched on the counter. “Please don’t freak out,” he says.  

Then he steps into the ankle-deep water, pulls his coat on. And.  

Transforms.  

An absolute tidal wave of freezing water crests over the side of the tub and splashes onto the tiled floor. “Housekeeping is going to be thrilled,” Jack says. 

The seal that is Connor barks in agreement.  

Jack shoves himself off the counter, shivering as his feet hit the cold floor. Connor – seal Connor – is a lot bigger than human Connor. Kind of cuter. He’s got the same eyes, though, the same earnest expression.  

“With all due respect,” Jack says. “This is really fucking weird.” 

Connor manages something resembling a nod.  

Jack steps closer again. “Can I, uh...” he says. “Touch you?” 

Connor nods again. His head is cold, and kind of rubbery. He makes a low sound in his throat. Fuck.  

He’s kind of cute, like this.  

Fuck.  

“Okay,” Jack says pulling his hand back. “Uh. I believe you now, obviously. So. If you want to, like... humanize... I’ll be. Out there.” 

Connor chirps again, and then suddenly, he’s like... peeling off his skin. It starts at his head, and then his arms emerge, and then Jack blinks and it’s just him, human and naked, hair soaking, bundling his coat in his hand.  

“Oh,” Jack says, tearing his eyes away. “I meant that I’d. Wait out there, but. Okay. Do you want a towel, or something?” 

Connor doesn’t say anything, but he takes the towel. 

“Okay,” Jack says again. “Maybe. We should start over.” 

… 

Connor puts a bathrobe on, at Jack’s insistence. He hangs the coat in Jack’s closet, at his own insistence, after throwing him a dewy-eyed look and saying, “I know I can trust you with it. It’s yours, now.” 

Then he perches on the end of Jack’s bed. Jack, up against the pillows, keeps looking at him, half-expecting him to disappear in between blinks. He doesn’t.  

“Please,” Connor says finally, “ask me whatever you wish.” 

Jack really plans to start with the easy questions. He really does. Only then, his mouth opens, and his voice says, “how the fuck are we married?” 

“Well,” Connor says, “there is... it may help you to understand that, in my culture, holding our pelts is paramount to holding our souls. For centuries, humans have sought to steal our pelts from us, so to bond us to them. As long as they hold our pelt, they hold us. Of course, when bound against our will, we often seek to. Reclaim our pelts. And return to our homes.” 

“That,” Jack says, “does not help.” 

Connor opens his mouth again. Jack holds up a hand. “Just... hold on a minute. I’m thinking.” 

He does think. Then he pulls his phone out, and googles selkie. Then he puts his phone away. “Okay,” he says. “So. Here’s the thing. I do not fucking want your pelt. It is all yours. I returned it to you. You can... go to sea, or whatever you need to do. Please consider yourself free.” 

Connor puts a hand on his leg. It’s shockingly warm. He also does it again, the look that burns low in Jack’s stomach, makes him. Feel things. “Don’t,” he says, warningly.  

Connor frowns, but raises his head until Jack doesn’t feel quite so pinned by his gaze. “Jack,” he says. “Many of my people, they do not trust humans. But I do. I left home very young to live among you, to play hockey. And it is for the very reason that you have returned my pelt to me that I know you can be trusted with it.” 

Jack says, “what.” 

“If you had kept it – if you had sought to own me, you should have proven yourself untrustworthy. But you returned it to me. And so, I want you to keep it. You owned it, so you are my spouse. And you returned it, so I can trust you to be so.” 

Jack, migraine pounding at his temples, sighs deeply. “Why,” he says, “do I feel like divorce is not an option here.” 

“No, of course not,” Connor says. “This is not a marriage of the human court, that can be so easily dissolved.” 

Jack stands up, and starts pacing. Finally, he turns back to Connor, who is sitting in complete silence, watching him, and wearing his bathrobe.  

“Okay,” he says, “listen. It’s very late. I have a splitting headache. We have a game tomorrow. And, clearly, this is. Happening. Whatever it is. So can we table this?” 

“Of course,” Connor says, standing. The bathrobe falls open distractingly. “Whatever you need.” 

“I need to sleep,” Jack says, “so.” 

Connor blinks at him. “Of course,” he says again.  

Jack stares. “So,” he says, “you should. Leave?” 

Connor’s face does something complicated and very sad.  

“No,” Jack says, “no. You are not staying here. We are not sharing a bed.”