The Fic Dumping Ground

The side blog to @with-the-words-all-wrong In which I put all my writing and one place for the public to enjoy. I don’t take request and am simply using this to show work.

[one-night-story]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I wrote about the Doctor again

[blueskrugs]

I Know I Could Have Loved You | Brock Boeser

at long last, it's here! this is my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, written for @one-night-story! Once again, I am SO sorry this is a bit late, but I had a really brutal week.

I hope you enjoy!!

length: 2000 words

You met Brock Boeser in 2015 when you were both freshmen at the University of North Dakota.

He wasn't your best friend at first. 

In fact, he'd rolled his eyes and when you were forced to partner with him for a stupid project in your intro to stats course. You don't remember exactly when he did become your friend, but  before you knew it your weekends were spent watching hockey games, then going out for fast food french fries with Brock, or lounging in each other's dorm rooms while you did homework. (Or while you did homework, and Brock pretended to do his own.) 

You don't know when you fell in love with Brock Boeser, either, just that you did.

Brock dated a few people while at UND, like most of the hockey players did. They stuck around for a few weeks or months before disappearing. Brock never bothered to introduce you to any of them. You tried to not let it bother you. 

“You should move to Vancouver, "Brock said suddenly one summer day. He'd signed his ELC just a few months prior—instead of returning to UND with you in the fall, he’d be off to Vancouver for training camp with the Canucks. 

You were both tanning by the lake, and you lowered your sunglasses to look sideways at Brock. He wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Brock, some of us have to actually finish college before getting a job," you said. You still had 2 years before graduation. "And why the hell should I move to Vancouver?"

Brock shrugged, all forced nonchalance. "Well, I'll be there."

You scoffed. "Sure, from October to April." You didn't know anyone in Vancouver, excluding Brock, who only counted during hockey season anyway.

"But I'll miss you," Brock argued. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"I think you'll manage just fine, Boes," you told him. "You survived this long without me before we met, didn't you? You can keep surviving now, too."

Brock pouts at you, but doesn't argue the point further, so you think that's the end of it. You put your sunglasses back in place on the bridge of your nose and settle back against your chair. You can’t deny that it leaves a nice fuzzy feeling in your chest that Brock thinks he’ll miss you so much that he’s begging you to join him in Vancouver.

Brock doesn’t bring it up again that summer, or for the next two years as you’re finishing up college, and you forget about the whole thing. The years pass; you graduate. 

Brock comes to your graduation party, kisses you on the cheek, and spends the afternoon charming your parents and your friends from high school and from UND. Brock always manages to stay within your orbit, never more than arm’s reach away from you. It’s nice, to have him back at your side like this. 

It's only when the party is over and Brock is helping clean up that he springs the question on you again.

"Have you thought about it at all?" he asks, apropos of absolutely fucking nothing.

You've had a few drinks, and it takes your brain a few seconds to catch up. "What?" you ask. "Thought about what?"

“Moving to Vancouver with me."

You already have a job lined up in your hometown. You haven't thought even once of moving to Vancouver instead.

"Brock, I can't just move to another country."

"What if I want you to?“

"Oh, sure, that will go over well on a visa application. ‘Because my bestfriend wants me to.’"

Brock sticks his tongue out at you.

"You should at least come and visit me," he pleads, "I really think you'll love it."

You roll your eyes at Brock. "I guess I can make time to visit,” you say, ignoring Brock's exaggerated cheer before he squishes you into a hug.

Brock manages to talk you into visiting him in June, because—in his words— "It's prettier in the summer."

He's not exactly wrong, you have to admit, after a week of traipsing around the city with Brock. You're watching a firework show with your head on Brock's shoulder when you realize you're starting to picture yourself in Vancouver, starting a real life here.

"D'you really think I could get a job here?” you murmur to Brock during a pause in the fireworks.

"What?” Brock asks. He turns to you. His blond hair glows in the light of the fireworks overhead. "Never mind,” you whisper back.

You begin searching for jobs in Vancouver that night, in the quiet darkness of Brock's spare bedroom.

Before you know it, you've lined up the perfect job—even better than the one you'd originally found back home, not that you'll ever tell Brock that—and Brock has helped you find an apartment in the city. 

"It's not far from me,” Brock had told you when he was helping you move in, "so you can come over and walk Milo and Coolie whenever."

"Oh, is that the real reason you wanted me to move out here?” you tease. "Free dog walking?"

Brock shrugs innocently but chuckles. "Well, I need someone to watch them when we're on road trips and stuff.”

You throw a wad of bubble wrap at him.

Later, while you and Brock are eating pizza on your living room floor, Brock flops into his back and sighs. You poke him in the head with your foot.

"You good, buddy?” you ask.

"What do you think of dating apps?” Brock says, which isn't really an answer.

You've always been too scared to try dating apps yourself. Instead of telling Brock that, you say, "You're a professional athlete.” And a very attractive one, but you don’t say that part. "What do you need dating apps for?”

Brock looks up at you from his sprawl on your floor. "Because I'm tired of being single?” he asks.

You flip him off. You don't say, I'm single, too, you could always date me. You got used to putting aside your feelings for Brock a long time ago.

"And you think dating apps are the solution? You didn't have any issues getting people to date you in North Dakota.”

Brock rolls his eyes. "I didn't play for the Canucks, then. It's all people I meet now seem to care about.”

You're still not sure how dating apps will solve that problem.

As if he hears your unspoken question, Brock continues. "At least this way, I can weed out puck bunnies or whatever a lot faster, instead of wasting my time.” He cranes his neck around so he can look at you directly. "So will you help me or not?” 

You think you'd rather get stabbed directly in the heart than to help Brock date someone else, but you never could say no to him.

"Fine, whatever,” you say. "Gimme your phone.” 

You're already regretting your decision less than ten minutes later as you watch Brock scroll through his camera roll to add pictures to his profile.

"You can't use your official headshot!” you tell him, trying to snatch his phone. "People are going to think they're getting catfished.”

"I don't have a lot of good pictures of myself!” Brock protests.

You've nixed three more photos—all pictures Brock has evidently stolen from the team's social media—("Why the hell do you save all these, anyway?”)—when Brock throws his hands up and passes you his phone.

"You do it then,” he tells you.

Brock's own camera roll is obviously useless, so you pull out your own phone. It only takes a few minutes of scrolling for you to pluck a handful of good photos out of your camera roll and Airdrop them to Brock. He's looking at you a little strangely when you hand his phone back.

"What?” you ask.

"I didn't know you took so many pictures of me,” he says. 

"I don't take that many,” you defend weakly. It's not like you have an entire album on your phone of pictures of him, or anything. 

Brock drops the subject, but you still feel uneasy as you continue helping him finish his profile. The two of you spend almost an hour bickering over which prompts to choose or the answers Brock writes for them before Brock deems his profile "good enough”.

"'Good enough?'” you argue. “This profile is a masterpiece,” you declare. "We'll get you cuffed in time for Christmas.”

Brock snorts at you. "All thanks to you,” he says, smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You try not to feel any particular way about it.

Brock spends the next few weeks bringing you his dating app matches to "approve.” He even shows you some of the funny ones—mostly girls tripping over themselves for the chance to sleep with The Brock Boeser of the Vancouver Canucks. He gets a lot of matches. 

You try to muster the appropriate enthusiasm for Brock, as he seems to be throwing himself into this endeavor with all the energy he throws into hockey.

It's hard, though, when all you can do is compare yourself to them. You wonder what Brock sees in them that he’s never seen in you.

Brock never seems to notice if your encouragement is lackluster.

Matches turn into a revolving door of first dates for Brock. A few times, first dates turn into second dates, and even into a third date or two. 

You force yourself to stop obsessively keeping track of his dates, and to pretend like each date he goes on doesn't drive the knife even deeper into your heart.

Brock's in the middle of telling you about his latest date—you think he’s been seeing this person for nearly a month—when he stops abruptly in the middle of a sentence.

"Are you okay?” he asks.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?” you say. It doesn’t sound very confident, even to your ears. 

"You've got that look on your face, the one where you're mad at me, but trying to pretend that you're not.”

You try to arrange your face into something more neutral.

"I'm not mad at you, Brock,” you say. You don't think he believes you. 

"So why do you always get all—” Brock gestures vaguely at your face. “—pissy whenever I talk about my dates?”

"I do not! And besides, I didn't know moving to Vancouver meant a front row seat to your dating life! Don't you have teammates to talk about this shit with?”

Brock scoffs. "They don't care about my dating life, and, apparently, neither do you.” 

"Brock, it's not that I don't care—” 

Brock cuts you off. "Then what is it?”

"I care too much!”

"What?” he says.

"Dammit, Brock, why don't you want to date me?” you snap.

Brock shakes his head. You probably shouldn't have said that.

"What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

"You heard me the first time, Boeser. Why are you searching all over Vancouver for someone to date when I've been here the whole time?” 

Brock takes a step closer to you. You take a step backwards; your kitchen is small, and you end up trapped against the counter.

"The whole time? "Brock repeats dumbly.

You could slap him. "Yes, Brock. Boy, it's a good thing you're pretty and good at hockey, because you can be really stupid sometimes.”

"Hang on,” Brock says. He's moved even closer. "How was I supposed to know?”

"Do you think I'd more to another country for anyone?” you ask.

"Oh,” Brock says. Then he says, "For how long?”

"Huh?”

“How long have you been in love with me?” Brock asks.

“I don't know, sometime freshman year, I guess.” There was never really a lightbulb moment for you; your feelings for Brock grew and morphed so slowly you almost didn't notice until it was too late.

Brock kisses you then, crushing you up against the cabinets with the force of it. His hands are warm on your hips, his lips gentle and firm against yours.

You pull away, a little breathless.

Brock grins at you. “If I had known this was an option, I would have kissed you a long time ago.”

"So, can we delete that dating app now?” you ask, forehead resting on Brock's shoulder.

"We can do whatever you want,” Brock says, leaning in to kiss you again.

You suppose deleting his dating profile can wait a little while.

[one-night-story]

hello hello! It's your fic writer checking in again. I am SO SORRY it's come to this but obviously I wasn't able to post this week. I had a crazy week (spent every waking moment studying for two exams and then my dog tore her ACL and derailed an entire day). Your fic IS finished and I just need to edit it, and it'll be posted this weekend!

Oh hi! No panic, exam season is hell and I’m so glad I don’t have to do that anymore and please smooch your dog on her head to assure she gets better from me, I cannot imagine that being a fun time friend :(

[one-night-story]

I Wanna Meet You But It's Too Soon (Matthew Tkachuk)

a/n: once again, under the wire, this is for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten by way of @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange! apologies for the delays but January has been kicking my teeth in. I hope you enjoy, the title is from "Dance Class" by Good Kid which I do recommend listening to for the Vibes.

Weddings were exhausting.

Didn’t matter if you were in them, attended them, or working them, it was almost a truth universally acknowledged that weddings were exhausting. Why weren’t we all just getting married in courthouses and running away to the honeymoon? Why the pomp? The circumstance? I suspected I could blame the Victorians (and if not them, then the industrial revolution), and if I wasn’t trying to lose my mind in this reception hall I would pull my phone out to google it. 

Traditionally, I wouldn’t have been here, just sent a gift from the registry and a personalized note. But college roommate pacts were hard to escape. Jenny, my college roommate from freshman year to the day we graduated and perhaps the person who knew me best outside of my childhood friends and my dog, and I had made a pact our junior year to attend each other’s eventual weddings. Even though I’d tried to argue that I was highly unlikely to actually have one, she had insisted. The provisos had been implemented to dodge my eventual excuses, that “knowing me too well” coming back to bite me as she stated that barring world ending natural disasters, genuine travel hang ups, or cruel bosses to be fed to crocodiles, I couldn’t skip.

So when she held her ceremony in Orlando in April, essentially dodging any potential world ending disasters, the planes not having been delayed, and my work giving me the weekend and change off, I had no choice but to attend with my best formal clothing and a pair of sensible shoes.

It’d been a beautiful ceremony, Jenny being a borderline Disney Adult since graduation had shelled out the massive bill to book the wedding venue at The Grand Floridian at Disney World, the reception, and the catering. It was only by a miracle (and her having too many cousins) that I wasn’t in the actual wedding party and was just allowed to attend as a guest, saving me from any of the other mayhem that would’ve come with the day. For that I thanked her, because I am not the person you want in a “dealing with cold feet because you don’t want to deal with emotions” sort of person. Mostly because I had the same problem. People who advised you to “listen to your gut” have never had their gut tell them they were being hunted by slow tigers anytime they left the house.

The reception on the other hand was a beast, Jenny and her new husband (a guy who I’d never met and probably would’ve sold for a corn chip, but in a boring way) thanked me for coming with all her usual enthusiasm and brightness that I expected. It made me feel younger and lighter than I expected, whipping me back to college the way that some friends could.

“Thank you for hanging up your introversion for an evening,” she said as she held me by my forearms and beamed with a smile that could only be her teasing. 

“For you of course,” I replied with a fake posh tone and a laugh. I had missed her, moving away for work for the both of us had been killer and we both swore that if a job popped up in one another’s city we would be there in a heartbeat.  

“Drink, get around, find someone cute,” she squeezed my arms and I managed to hold back an eye roll. I knew that this was going to be the situation since I RSVP’d without a plus one. Jenny was constantly the one at a party pushing me to talk to the person across the room who I would on and off stare out over the course of the night. It was practically tradition when we were younger. Her success rate of actually getting me over was lower than she’d like, but she still tried everytime. I tapped her arms and smiled.

“Don’t worry about me, go greet your other guests, your mother looks about ready to burst,” I said, noticing Stacy, Jenny’s mother, looked like she was trying to reel her daughter in with a fishing line if she didn’t get over in the next minute and a half. Jenny mouthed pray for me as she took her husband, who’s name I still didn’t remember, over to her.

As I watched them go over and soothe Stacy’s panic, my eyes continued to drift around the room and landed on someone who might’ve looked familiar but I couldn’t remember why for the life of me. With curly hair that looked like it was maintained on a technicality, a smile that was somewhere between mischief and humor at the expense of the person they were talking to, and a glass of amber liquid that I had to assume was probably scotch, he was appealing. In the way that one would admire a stranger at a bar who’s off limits. My only partial recognition meant it was possible that he was one of Jenny’s guests, but it was hard to tell. Maybe I’d seen him in one of her once a month Instagram photo dumps? Again, my desire to fish my phone out of my pocket to check was strong, but I resisted. I was trying to be better about not retreating into it in social situations, even if it was all that kept me from bailing into the bathroom to hide from overstimulation. 

I hadn’t noticed I was staring until as I tilted my head trying to wrack my brain as to where the hell I recognized him from, he caught my gaze with that mischief humored grin turned to me. I had the decency to grin in what was probably on par with my internal embarrassment. He raised his glass to me and I managed a half wave and turned back to my table and studied the intricacies of the table cloth, trying to see if I could spot the hidden mickeys in the pattern. Ignore me, please ignore me, I do not need to get into an argument about manners with a complete and utter–

“Trying to check the thread count?” A masculine voice asked next to me. My head shot up and sure enough it was curly with the amber liquid smiling at me. Checking the thread count was actually probably a better excuse in literally any other situation, but here we were.

“Uh… no. Trying to find hidden Mickeys actually.” I said turning back, wishing I had a drink of my own to throw back and at least give my hands something to do other than mess with the fidget ring on my left hand. He took the seat next to me and looked down at the table cloth, joining me in my probably fruitless endeavour. 

“Any reason as to why?” He asked, setting his glass down in my eyeline as if to signal he wasn’t immediately interested in getting back up and moving again. Which… could be promising in my favor? Maybe? Oh who the fuck am I kidding, this guy was handsome but radiated an energy that wasn’t promising on my end. This was something he did a lot, chatting up people in social situations; whereas I was much more of a fantasize via the human version of the treachery of images.

“I uh… didn’t mean to get caught staring and figured it was a good enough line to get you to pass me by?” I answered just a dash too honestly.

“Well, that’s fair, but I didn’t mind,” that got me to actually look at him proper, cataloging details you couldn’t see from across the room like bright blue eyes, a small gap between his front two teeth, and a smidgen of scruff growing in.

“Would it be unbecoming of me if I called you a liar about that?” 

“Eh, no, but it’s true.” He said. He finally offered up his hand, calloused and bigger than mine, “Matthew, friend of the groom.”

I shook it and offered up my name, “friend of the bride.” This still didn’t explain his vague familiarity but maybe he just had one of those faces.

The DJ had swapped tracks to something a little more retro than his previous offerings and I almost blessed Jenny’s crops forever as the opening riff of This Charming Man began to play through the speakers. Matthew seemed to notice me perk up and offered his hand again.

“Wanna dance?” He asked, a bright grin tempting me more than the actual words. Well, Jenny did say I needed to mingle.

“Yeah alright,” I said, taking his hand again as we both found our way to the dance floor. Unfortunately for Matthew I knew every word to the song (a Smiths phase in late high school and early into college I wasn’t completely proud of) and couldn’t help but sing along as we spun and got into each other’s spaces. It was warm, it was fun, I once again managed to try to forget that Morrisey was a shit human being as Johnny Marr’s guitars did most of the heavy lifting. To his credit, Matthew didn’t seem to mind, laughing alongside my craziness and keeping up with some amount of surprising vigor. By the time the song ended I was pulled in closer to him than we’d started and everything felt like it was buzzing. I’m not one for love at first sight, but affection? Attraction? Those I could account for and I felt it, even if I did also feel a large portion of my body and brain also want to sprint to the other side of the room. 

“Is now a good time to posit the theory that wedding receptions are just… prom for adults?” I posited to try and distract from the everything else my brain was trying to contend with.

Matthew just laughed, “I could see that, what’s the after prom?” He asked.

“Probably everyone dividing off and ending up in the wrong hotel rooms.” I replied.

“True, with about as much caution.” He joked along. 

The DJ, in his infinite wisdom, slowed the floor for the following song. I took a step back from where I’d ended up and prepared for the inevitable thanks for the dance, see you around, instead I got another offered hand. 

“Don’t you think it’s too soon?” I teased, “I mean, I don’t know if I’m one to slow dance on the first… encounter.” Calling it a date would be far too forward, and even if I was to make a joke out of it, that could end up backfiring spectacularly. 

“Consider it part of that lack of caution that comes with pretending it’s all adult prom,” he said. So, with no better offer in sight, I bit back my anxiety for one more song and took his hand again, where we quickly fell into an acceptable enough dance form. As close as we were now, I found myself again stumbling over why Matthew looked so familiar. If he was one of the groom’s guests, did I actually know the groom better than expected? Shit, was he a reconnected college boyfriend I forgot about? Childhood friend who moved when I was still forming cognitive memories? Guy I met in a hotel pool once while on vacation where we bonded as if we’d always known each other only to never exchange more than names?

“I can see the gears turning in your head, what’re you thinking about?” He asked just loud enough to be heard over the music but not enough to eavesdrop on, which was a courtesy I appreciated if nothing else.

“I’m trying to figure out why the hell you look familiar,” I said as he carefully maneuvered us from running into another couple, a quick glance over his shoulder revealing Jenny and her husband, Jenny winking when she caught my eye. Matthew let a low chuckle escape him and the proximity allowed me to feel it too and I tried not to feel a little flustered about that. It’d been since I was like… nine and at summer camp since I’d danced with someone like this. My childhood friends and I skipped homecoming and prom was spent mostly dancing with ourselves as one big group. So sue me, I was a bit out of practice when it came to this.

“I don’t know, do you live in the area?”

“No, but I used to vacation here a lot as a kid,” my parents were Disney Adults before Disney Adults were even a thing, so I practically knew parts of the resorts and parks like the back of my hand.

“Hm… are you into sports?”

“I picked up hockey a few years ago as what my mom calls a “water cooler topic” so I didn’t risk outing myself as a complete nerd to coworkers and to have something to talk about other than the weather and politics,” I said. That said I was more of a casual fan, knew a couple of players, had a tee or two gifted to me by people who knew nothing else about me, could not tell them apart without their names and numbers on their back.

“Who’re your teams?” He asked, again with the smile of mischief and humor and definitely in on something I hadn’t caught onto yet. I narrowed my eyes at him as his grin got a bit toothier and immediately felt embarrassed. There it was. I just barely managed to avoid dropping my face into his shoulder, a gesture that felt too familiar for the current situation and my hands around his neck were about the only thing that kept me from hiding my face in them.

“Tkachuk right? I think I caught some of the Cup run games,” I said trying to not crack up at my own face blindness.

“I’m just impressed you didn’t notice sooner,” he said as his own laugh leaked into his tone. We’d been doing a lot of that together huh? It was a positive sign for someone like me who put a smidge too much of their self worth into being able to make people laugh. “Honestly, I’d be sick of my face if I wasn’t acclimated to it.” 

“I don’t know, it has its appeal,” I remarked, somehow mustering up half the courage to be bold and actually try complimenting the arguably attractive guy who’d chosen to take an interest in me for the evening. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t say anything sooner because like… let’s face it, it'd be very embarrassing if I was wrong right?” I said with a tilt of my head, the song we were dancing too was probably going to wind down any minute and then we’d be really in a pickle. 

“Probably yeah,” he said with a half shrug, “hopefully I’ve now made enough of an impression for future encounters.”

“Future encounters?” I asked. Not being presumptuous was one of my notable features, and yet…

“Well, when do you head out of here?” 

“Like, out of the wedding or out of Florida?”

“The latter,” he said with a playful grin and a small stroke of my lower back with his thumb. Did he know that I needed to be grounded to avoid lying? Or did I just look more like a spooked deer than I was trying to let on.

“Two days from now? I didn’t know how long I was going to be hungover so I don’t fly back until Tuesday.” I said. Open bars and I were actually pretty okay, I was what one college friend called a “control drinker” meaning I usually cut myself off before I got even the faintest glimmer of tipsy. But I had hoped it’d eased up with age and by having better taste in alcohol. But seeing as I hadn’t had anything since the champagne and cocktails with dinner, that plan wasn’t going as I expected. Matthew seemed to mull something over before nodding to himself once and trying to pull me just a smidge closer. 

“Pick a park and we’ll go,” he said. 

“Seriously?” I asked with more of a raised eyebrow than even I would’ve liked, but I couldn’t help it, I wasn’t the type of person to get asked out at a wedding let alone by someone I actually found attractive. It was unheard of, bordering on unbelievable, that I almost looked to see if there were new fake plants I hadn’t noticed before for people to jump out of. But I steadied myself, taking a deep breath, knowing that this rabbit hole wasn’t healthy in any capacity. “Yeah alright, Hollywood Studios. And you will unfortunately learn too much about Star Wars by the end of it.” I said with a laugh.

“I think I can live with that.” Mathew said with a grin. 

We navigated ourselves off the dance floor and exchanged numbers for the following day and I had to stare and wonder at the whole ordeal as he walked off to talk to his friends with the agreement he’d text me in the morning.

Maybe weddings weren’t the most exhausting thing.

[one-night-story]

It's me, hi, I'm your winter fic exchange writer! I can't wait to get started writing! Just a few questions: is there anything you definitely DON'T want? What's your favorite song right now?

Oh hi hello! So far as things I don’t want that aren’t obviously listed:

1) pregnancy (nope, nada, respect if that’s your thing I can’t do it. Don’t also love kid fics)

2) ending in a wedding (as someone who views marriage as nothing more than a way to get a tax benefit, I do not dream of weddings.) Love a wedding as a setting though! Love taking fake dates to weddings, meeting people at weddings that’s all fine.

3) an overtly femme reader. I cannot put my hair up in a bun I’ve never had hair that long and the idea of me in a skirt is not a Gender Jump I can clear yet

I have multiple favorite songs at any given point in time but the last three added to my Spotify Liked Songs are Blood on the Hospital Floor by The Wombats (way cheerier than it sounds I swear), Call Me Up by daydreamers, and Dressed For a Funeral by The Backfires (also cheerier than it sounds)

Thanks friend!

[one-night-story]

As Long As Our Parents Rule Over The Stars (PLATONIC Luke Castellan)

When I take all those “who’s your godly parent” quizzes, 8/10 times, I end up as a child of Hermes. That combined with a childhood fascination with Luke Castellan has led him to be more sibling shaped to me. As a result, here’s something I wrote about what it would mean to have one of his siblings follow him, like I imagine so many did. Book or Show Luke compliant, no major spoilers

Rosalyn had never had a good sleep schedule. Before, her mom never really slept, more like took long term breaks in the occasional hotel room she trusted, or someone’s couch. Coming to camp meant sleeping in a cabin with 20 plus kids and dealing with a collection of kids who snored or talked and on the worst nights, the tears.

Being on a ship full of monsters that she was quite literally biologically programmed to be warned about, meant that she hadn’t slept since the minute she’d stepped onto the Princess Andromeda.

She tried, really she did, and the mess that was her stateroom bed was proof of that. She’d tried sleeping in the bed, on the couch, on the daybed, even on the floor! But still, nothing. She didn’t know if she was thankful for the preferential treatment she was getting, but she liked the bed, even if she couldn’t sleep in it currently.

Rosalyn sighed and accepted defeat. Sleep was just not gonna be in the immediate cards tonight, and she was going to have to find something to try and put her to sleep. She tossed the cover off and grabbed the hoodie off the back of the desk chair that faced the balcony, the sea rolling by far too calmly for the turbulence in her head. She tugged it on, slid her shoes on, and grabbed her sword as she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to have to defend herself from everything that existed on this ship.

Including the person she was headed to see.

Sliding into the dark of the hallway, she carefully walked in the direction of the main bedroom on this sprawling cruise ship.There was no one standing guard outside, she counted that as a win, she did not want to negotiate with anyone tonight or put on any sort of strong front. She didn’t bother knocking as she slid into the elaborate stateroom and found her brother sitting on a deck chair overlooking the ocean, the sliding door was open behind him and Backbiter was sitting against the side table between the chair he was in and the empty one next to him. Rosalyn strode across the room and sat down next to him, pulling her knees to her chest as they both looked out over the ocean.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, and for a brief moment she pretended that they were back in the cabin, it was another night in camp, and nothing was wrong. Luke Castellan was still head counselor of the Hermes cabin and they weren’t on a vengeance quest to tell their dad to fuck off and also overthrow the rest of the gods.

Simple, really.

“Yeah,” she mustered out.

“Usual?”

“I don’t know,” she said and she could feel Luke looking at her, and she sighed. “The monsters,” she said as she snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eyes. He wasn’t looking at her in this particular moment, but his face was knitted up slightly.

The sentiment was mutual.

The waves of the water rushed along as the boat moved at a clip. Nothing but darkness and water as far as the eye could see, even if the moon was shining more than usual without the city lights. It would be crippling if it was the only thing she had to worry about. The silence between the siblings was deafening, both of them uneasy about the path they’d started walking down. Rosalyn put her hand out first, palm up, and wiggled her fingers.

“Three truths?” Luke asked, getting her to nod in response. Luke settled his hand into hers, interlocking their fingers. It was a game they’d invented when they’d started to seriously lean on one another. When your father is the literal god of liars and tricksters, it helps to gamify telling the truth. It guaranteed no judgment, and no proliferation. Everything said stayed between the duo. “Challenger goes first,” he said. As if it needed saying.

Rosalyn mulled it over, knowing tradition meant that she started small and worked her way up to a bigger admission. “I was the one who tp’d the Ares cabin the summer before last.” she said. It felt like a million years ago, when she felt more like a kid than she did now, but it was revenge for a shit move pulled during Capture the Flag that’d put Luke in the Apollo cabin’s care for a week. Rosalyn had Connor and Travis help her steal the toilet paper and in the dead of night she’d wrapped the cabin in it, hucking a few eggs to really make it hard to clean. Ares had always expected it was the Hermes cabin, but no one fessed up or sold her out. For Luke, they would’ve done anything for him.

But that was then.

Luke laughed and used the hand that wasn’t holding hers to rabble her already messy bedhead, “atta girl Rosie,” he said and she couldn’t help but scrunch her nose up and giggle a little herself. They settled back into their seats and Luke hummed as he thought of his first truth. “I let you get the flag that first game.” He said.

Rosalyn remembered the game well, she’d shown up in camp a handful of days prior, after her and a satyr named Norm had run across half New York City with a cyclops at her heels when she landed at JFK. Her mother had been casing a European billionaire when she’d disappeared and she even managed to smuggle most of her passports with her. The airport she found, had something of a sanctuary for her as a traveler god's daughter, but the minute she was out in the open it was game over. She’d been scared, and tired, and anti-social as all get out. But Luke had been warm and kind and helped ease her transition. She’d barely learned to fight with her weapon, but years of running had made her fast. When she’d found the flag, she’d taken off like a rocket, managing to squeeze past holes in defenses like they were a high class art gallery.

It’d been the first time she felt like she could do this, live amongst these people and with a team and people who didn’t just want her because she was small and could fit into vents.

“I’d found it like, a half step before you did, but I saw the look on your face, you were… ecstatic, like someone had given you free reign in a candy store. You needed the win. I made sure no one got you and ensured you got back across.” He said with a smile. Rosalyn gave him a watery smile in return and let her head drop against his shoulder.

“Thank you,”

“Of course,” he said.

Rosalyn let the wind pass over them for a bit as she chewed on her lip, a nervous tic she couldn’t shake; that, and chewing on her nail beds, but she lacked access to her hands. “Sometimes I wish my mom had chased after me. Just… just to say anything. I don’t even care if she’d spat at me for leaving, just… any reaction.” She said in a voice that betrayed her age more than even she’d admit on a bad day. Luke squeezed her hand twice. An acknowledgement of affection and silence, but failing to have the words to respond to a truth with that level of weight.

“I sometimes wish mine was together enough to tell me why,” he responded in kind. Rosalyn mimicked the same gesture, squeezing his hand twice.

She only had one truth left, and she knew she was going to have to come clean for the reason she came here. She knew she probably wouldn’t sleep well until she did. But it didn’t stop it from terrifying her. She’d had… mixed experience with admitting when things made her uncomfortable. Her mother had usually brushed them off if she hadn’t outright dismissed them. It’d only gotten them into one scrape but it was a monster and that meant it was automatically Rosalyn’s fault. But maybe…

“The monsters freak me out,” she said quietly, “I think that’s why I’m not sleeping.”

Luke squeezed her hand three times. A mutual truth.

“I know,” he said. “He said that it was the only way we were gonna have enough of a force.”

Names and power meant that it wasn’t uttered, but Rosalyn knew.

Kronos.

She hated that they were working for him. But that was a truth too far. To her, she wasn’t working for him, she was working for Luke. Her brother. Her only family. The boy who gave her a win because she needed one. Who held her when her tenth birthday was ruined by bad memories and a realization of little she truly had to call her own. Her brother she’d follow to war and to the underworld.

Quietly wishing he’d stop going there.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to lead them all.” Luke said, admitting his final truth. Three was a formality, so long as their hands stayed together, everything could be assumed as truth. Something about grounding her with physicality made it harder for Rosalyn to lie, she found. “I mean, leading you guys that was one thing, but all of this? I…”

Rosalyn squeezed his hand twice.

“We’ll figure it out, you and me y’know?” She said as she looked over at him, fully looking at him. Luke smiled and nodded once.

“Yeah, you and me,” he said. “But, tomorrow, you need sleep.” He said as he maneuvered himself to standing and tugged her up after him. Rosalyn groaned, “no complaints, you’re a growing girl, you need sleep!”

“So do you,” she was quick to argue. Luke chuckled and threw his arm over shoulder as they walked back into his stateroom. He’d gotten the biggest on the ship, and it wasn’t even close. It felt like a real room, and yet the only sign that he’d been staying in it was the fact that the bed wasn’t made and some of the soap and toilet paper had been used.

His go bag, much like hers, was tucked by the door. Ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice and run for the hills. She wondered if that meant he was still holding reservations like she was.

“Yeah alright, we’ll both sleep, okay Ros?” He said as he flopped back onto his king bed. Rosalyn slid her shoes off and flopped on the bed next to him. There was nothing wrong with the comfort levels, his was just as if not more comfy than hers was. The duo were quick to tug the sheets over them and Rosalyn quickly became a ball of sheets with a head peeking out. Luke couldn’t help but laugh quietly to himself. “I’ll see you in the morning Rosie, you’ve still got sparring practice.”

Rosalyn wasn’t even awake enough to groan out a complaint and Luke took that as enough of a sign that he should probably follow her lead.

[one-night-story]

I Don't Know You, But I Would Love to Meet You (Jack Hughes)

a/n: I wanted to get this not under the wire, but I can't help but feel like it a little? Which, sorry about that. this is for @writingonleaves by way of @wyattjohnston 's annual winter fic exchange! I hope you enjoy it! this was as always a fun challenge to write. title is from "We Should Be Friends" by Josh Ramsay, which is v cute. (also it's so long oh jeez)

There’s probably a certain age when you’re fairly certain you’re “too old” to be waking up on strangers couches with little memory of A) who’s couch you ended up on and B) how exactly you got there.

I don’t think I’ve quite hit that age yet, so I think I’m in the clear for the understandable confusion I woke up with as the morning sun streamed in from the floor to ceiling windows. 

Shit, not only was I in an unfamiliar apartment, whoever was renting the place was clearly richer than my blood. 

Good news: my phone was on the coffee table and attached to a charger, so whoever I’d crashed with was a benevolent host, which boded well for my continued situation. I checked my texts and it seems last night me had been coherent and just exhausted, seeing as I remembered to text my roommate that I wasn’t coming home saying I was crashing “with friends” and that I’d text her when I got back on campus. 

Huh, promising.

It at least meant she wouldn’t send out a search party consisting of our friend group, their friends, and the National Guard. All incredibly good things for my continued health and existence. 

Now, to figure out who’s apartment I’d just woken up in. 

Carefully, I stretched out my legs and shifted the blankets onto my lap when I realized I at the very least had the sense to not try and sleep in jeans but had left my “nice enough to go out” t-shirt on, and scanned the area. A couple of photos on the wall of a relatively decent sized family, siblings at the bare minimum as they popped up in several photos. Rich, but a bachelor as no one with any interior design sense had popped by to huck a colored throw pillow into the mix, and that was assuming their lease didn’t allow for wall color changes. 

Honestly, I was coming up empty. 

None of my friends were this rich, hell if they were I feel like it would’ve come up way sooner, not to mention why the hell would they bother commuting to campus when they probably could leverage online classes and still come out with a degree. 

I was just about to fashion enough of a blanket skirt to at least try and find my pants so I could start rifling through a mail stack when there was creaking coming from down the hall. Well, maybe I’d have an answer soon enough. I readjusted the blanket a little so I could look over from where I thought the creaking was coming from and was greeted by… okay calling it a familiar face might’ve been a stretch, but so would the text to my roommate saying I was staying with a friend, so somehow that was two birds with one stone. 

I did recognize him, which was an improvement over my worst fear, he was a friend of a friend of a brother of a friend. Which put me at four degrees of separation, and raised my “why the fuck did I crash here” hackles, but the fact that I was on a couch and not in someone’s bed felt safe, even if it wasn’t all there yet. 

He didn’t seem to be fully coherent yet, as he rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his, admittedly very pretty, hair so I tried to hold back a large laugh when he startled at seeing me sitting on his couch.

“Hi,” I said with a sheepish wave. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” I remarked. What I really needed to do was find out where the hell half-dead me had hucked my pants so I could tug them back on and then make a beeline to the nearest train station to get home.

“‘S fine, just… uh… shit, there’s no like… good way of asking this,” he mulled over.

“It’s okay, I don’t quite remember your name either,” I said, saving him the embarrassment. He laughed, and it was goofy and light, which was way too endearing for… shit did that microwave clock say 9:30 in the morning? I couldn’t help but join in with a chuckle of my own. 

“Oh thank god,” he said once he stopped most of the laughter, “I didn’t want to seem like a complete asshole, but also there was no way I was going to remember it after last night.” He added.

“Yeah, I don’t remember much either, and I don’t even think I drank that much?” I said with just a dash of question in my tone, he nodded once.

“You didn’t, but I think you mentioned that you didn’t want to risk taking the train back so late.” He said. “I offered to let you crash here when you refused to let someone pay for a hotel.”

Yeah, that sure did sound like me.

“Well, thank you, I’m Sadie,” I said, and as soon as I did, he brightened like he suddenly did remember and just needed the metaphorical kick in the brainstem. 

“Yes! Okay, see I thought it’d be in there,” he said with another chuckle. “I usually at least try to learn the names of the girls I bring home.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the way he chose to phrase it and even more when he very clearly winced realizing how it sounded.

“We’ll chop it up to “lack of coffee” and call no hard feelings, sound fair?” I proposed as an even solution to our silly little predicament. 

“Fair, I’m Jack by the way.” he said as he came over to the couch and offered up his hand. “Nice to actually meet you Sadie,” he said. 

“Nice to meet you too,” I said with a chuckle as I shook his hand with a bit of teasing vigor. 

“Can I at least offer you breakfast before you sneak out in the middle of the morning?” He asked while still holding onto my hand. I thought it over, and remembered the time, and figured that… yeah I could probably stand to be held up for coffee and a minimal breakfast before jumping on the train. 

“Yeah, if it’s not —“

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack was quick to cut me off. He let go of my hand and wandered back over to the kitchen and I was quick to try and figure out where the hell I’d put my pants so I wasn’t having to talk across the apartment and be perceived as rude on top of whatever else one could make assumptions about a girl who’d crashed on the couch of a guy she barely knew. After being assured that the blanket was carefully tucked around me I leaned down to check under the couch and was relieved when I found them sticking out. I carefully maneuvered my body so that I could reach under the couch, grab them and carefully bend back up onto the couch so I could put them on under the blanket. When I eventually sat back up and stood. Jack was looking at me with a look of bemusement. 

“Were you…”

“No, last night me wanted to not sleep in jeans. So I must’ve haphazardly hucked them off.”

“And you managed to get them on… without getting up from under the blanket?”

“Old trick from summer camp. Trust me, you haven’t even seen half of it.” I could get dressed pretty entirely without getting up from under the covers. When Jack still looked amused I chuckled and finished walking over to where he was in the kitchen. “What? Upstate New York gets cold in the morning in the summer.” I remarked. Jack fully laughed and again, I couldn’t help but join in.

“Oh I know, I guess I’m just used to living in houses with heating too.” He said. I simply shrugged, low tech summer camps, what could you do? I watched as Jack maneuvered around his kitchen to get the coffee going from the cautious spot of his breakfast bar, trying to not take up too much space or get in the way, no one likes multiple people in a kitchen at once, it was practically a fact. “I only have milk and sugar, I hope that’s okay?”

“It’ll be fine, I’m hardly in a position to be picky,” I said as I tried to focus on something that wasn’t the way Jack’s hair was falling that made him seem… softer? than just my brain’s logical, knee jerk reaction of him being “just some guy”. I mean, of all the people that my sleep addled brain could remember, I definitely remember that Jack was one of the better looking ones. I could feel my fingers wanting to pick at my nails and the social morays of it all was pretty much the only thing holding me back from doing so. I wanted to say something, anything, pretend for one morning that I was good at socializing. The fact that I’d managed to get through last night with enough grace and charm that I had managed to score a place to crash after the friend of a friend I came with ditched me to hook up with on of the myriad of white boys that were there that night meant this morning I was praying I had enough left to at least make it through coffee.

Jack set the Keurig off to do its thing and rifled through the cupboards to try and find… something. Honestly, while I was hoping for cereal, I would’ve settled for toast, when I heard him curse someone under his breath and went over to the fridge.

“Shit.” He muttered.

“Roommate eat you out of house and home?” I said taking a shot in the dark. Jack looked over, remembering he was making coffee for two and gave me a look that read as though I’d gotten it in one. He padded back over to the breakfast bar and leaned in conspiratorially, something I couldn’t help but meet him halfway about.

“So… I might’ve lied about breakfast. My brother was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday after practice and it looks like he forgot.” I chuckled and opened my mouth to assure him that really, it was fine, thanks for even offering, I’ll just go; but he pressed on, “there’s a spot around the corner that does… probably better than I ever could and that includes the coffee. If you want, I could… take you there?” He proposed. 

On the one hand, that was incredibly sweet and his smile was very much continuing my brain’s belief of him being endearing. Not to mention I love a good brunch spot as much as the next girly and that included a good little diner.

On the other hand, I felt gross being in yesterday’s clothes and I didn’t want to impede Jack’s ability to get on with his day. That, and the somewhat social expectation to turn down anything offered with you without an obvious way to pay back. We weren’t really friends, and we weren’t dating, so what the hell could I even do? My obvious gut reaction was to reject it, to chop it up to the fact that really, he was just being polite and there was no real reason to go with him. But then I snuck another glance at him, a little open and earnest and maybe the offer was just a genuine “let me be a good host in spite of the fact that my roommate is making that a challenge.”

“One condition,” I said and Jack nodded, “you mind if I borrow your shower? I feel super gross,” I said and Jack immediately nodded.

“Yeah, course, I’ll get you a new shirt if ya need.” He was quick to add. I smiled and thanked him as he pointed me toward where the bathroom was. It was very clear a bachelor’s bathroom, but at least they had more than one bottle of soap. So… small victories.

I was quick to wash up and thankful for the t-shirt left precariously balancing on the bathroom island that fully suggested it’d been put there without someone looking. Changing was just as fast and I came back out feeling a little less like death. I grabbed my phone and my bag from the end of the couch (ungracefully shoving my t-shirt from last night in) and met Jack where he was by the door. 

The trip to ground level was mostly quiet, with both of us seemingly trying to pick and choose what to say about all of this. I didn’t want to put any sort of anything on it, hell, I was prepared to pay should need be and blow the rest of my fun money budget for the month. 

And Jack hadn’t been lying when he said the place had been around the corner as, sure enough, the glass faced front of a quaint brunch place, Edison light bulbs and all, was in front of us. For a late Saturday morning, it wasn’t horrendous by any means. I predicted a twenty minute wait without reservations, but I was willing to be surprised. Jack got the door for me and I muttered a quiet thank you as we walked in. The front area was small so I suspected that this was probably a strict “reservation or get lucky on a walk in” place. I snuck a glance at Jack, but he didn’t seem to be fazed by any of it as he made his way over to the hostess and they had a quick exchange before menus were being grabbed and we were being led to a quiet little back booth, out of sight of the main windows. The hostess gave her usual spiel about the menus and our waiter being over in a few and we both thanked her for her time. As she left I finally looked over at Jack.

“What?”

“Does the owner owe you money or something?”

“No, but he is a fan,” he said. That made me tilt my head slightly but I was quick to shake it off. “Relax, I made reservations while you were showering. Got lucky that they had a last minute cancellation.” He said. Yeah, that seemed reasonable all things considered, so I let the topic drop and gave the menu a scan. There wasn’t a lot that didn’t appeal to me, so that was a good sign. 

“Got any recommendations?” I asked as Jack fidgeted with his fork.

“Oh, uh… the pancakes are pretty killer. And my brother swears by their waffles. But pretty much everything’s good.” He said. I nodded and adjusted my own silverware as our waiter came over and poured water. While I was of the firm belief that brunch didn’t count as brunch without mimosas, I just ordered coffee with some of their fancier fixings. We asked for a bit more time with the menus and our waiter agreed to come back with the coffee. We fell into a silence, not quite awkward but nowhere near comfortable, and I settled on biting the bullet first.

“So why New Jersey?” I asked.

“Why New Jersey?”

“Yeah, you don’t seem like you’re from around here so why’d you move to New Jersey?”

“Work,” he answered simply. My memory of the previous night was still a swirling mess of exhaustion and bright lights and a smidge too much noise, but I think I remembered that those at the table who hadn’t been with my acquaintance group were coworkers. Must be a tight knit workplace. “You?”

“School, got a scholarship.”

“What for?”

“Creative writing, not the flashiest of degrees, but it’s what I’ve always wanted to do.” I replied. 

“Working on the next Great American Novel, then?” He asked and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ah, maybe. Right now I’m fighting to try and keep my voice while meeting every professors’ wildly different expectations. It’s a… hassle.” I said. The conversation spiraled from there, breaking to order brunch, but otherwise swapping stories about his family and my schooling. What could I say, I had an odd high school experience, even by American Public School standards, and eventful friends.

By the time food came out, we’d eased up the tension by a couple points, and I only felt sort of bad when my phone vibrated insistently in my pocket. I made a gesture asking if it was chill if I got it and he nodded. I fished it out of my pocket and scanned the notification. Multiple texts from Anna, the friend I was supposed to travel home with last night, as it seems she’d finally woken up from her adventures last night. Most of them were standard, if sweet, a “did you get home”, a “sorry for ditching you”, and then finally “oh holy shit this guy is rich rich”. It was funny, and I was just about to put my phone away when I saw the last text come in.

what kind of rich as hell guy has a two bedroom? Shit, did i sleep with a married guy?

That finally got me to audibly laugh and Jack raised his eyebrow, “The friend I was supposed to get back to campus with, she just woke up and is questioning if she just became the other woman.”

“Nah, none of the guys out last night were married. What’d she look like?” He asked.

“Blonde, dark eyeliner, wearing the purple tank top,” I said. Jack then stifled a laugh.

“Ask her if the guy she went home with had poorly taken care of curls,” he said offhandedly. I did and set my phone on the table as I continued eating my brunch.

A couple minutes later my phone lit up with a notification.

yeah, that is *oddly* specific, how did you know?

“Yeah he is,”

“Oh my god,”

“What?”

“She’s at my place.”

“You’re kidding,”

“She went home with my brother, you’ve been in the same place all night,” he said and I couldn’t help but nearly double over as I started laughing. The entire reason I’d crashed was because she had ditched me and now it turns out we’d been in the same apartment the whole night.

“Oh that’s so fucking funny,” I said once I could breathe again. I shot off a text to Anna.

I’m still downtown, I’ll meet you at the train station in a half hour if you want?

deal.

I finally put my phone back in my pocket and we finished up brunch with a companionable edge. By the time the waiter came back to clear our dishes we were getting close to having to negotiate the bill.

“So…” I started to say.

“I’m paying,”

“You didn’t even—“

“I was never gonna let you pay, my mom raised me better than that.” He said. 

“At least let me cover for my coffee?”

“Sadie, don’t worry about it,” he said with a tone that got me to drop it. Like I wasn’t going to be able to win this no matter how I negotiated it. As the waiter came back with the bill and Jack handed over his card I said a quiet thanks which got a grin out of him. Brain, pick a struggle, we cannot be enamored by this boy after waking up on his couch in a first meeting we can barely remember. He finished paying and we got up to leave and I did my best to keep my internal argument off my face as we did.

I managed to make it to the street corner before I was willing to confront the fact that I had to actually leave and go back to campus, and Jack had to… wait. Hang on. 

The coffee had started to kick in and things were finally lining up. I knew I had to have gotten into school for some reason right?

“Oh shit,”

“What?” He asked with a tilt of his head and okay fine I’ll admit it brain he’s cute, but the realizations that my brain was finally having made it so that this was never going to happen again.

“You’re a Devils player,” I said as I smacked my own forehead and Jack started laughing. 

“You only just figured that out?”

“Leave me alone, I haven’t had a full night's sleep in like a week,” I joked, still covering my face a little. Jack carefully moved me out of foot traffic and gently pulled my hands away from my face.

“Is that a deal breaker?” He asked.

“What?”

“Me being a hockey player?”

“What, why?”

“Well, I thought that went well all things considered and I was gonna ask for your number to hopefully do dinner sometime.” He said with a soft smile, letting his hand fall into mine. I thought it over, between the fact that he was indeed cute, that he was nice, and funny, and asking with such an expression that seemed that, if he wasn’t trying to convince me he was cool and at least a little normal, he’d be rocking on his heels about; and the mere fact that he took me out to brunch after offering to let me crash on his couch. It was pretty much enough in the category of good signs that I was inclined to say:

“It’s not a deal breaker,” and he grinned a little wider, “besides I was going to ask for your number anyway. I have to get your shirt back somehow.” I chuckled.

“Ah, keep it, I can always buy a new one.” He joked. I passed over my phone and he put his contact in before quickly texting himself and passing it back. I chuckled at his contact photo, a terribly taken close up of him, and saw that I had a text from Anna that she was at the station already.

“I guess I’ll talk to you to figure out scheduling?” I proposed with just a hint of awkwardness. 

“Yeah, I gotta check with my brother about some things and what have you.” 

“Okay,” I said with a little chuckle of disbelief. “Thanks for brunch, by the way.” I said.

“Thank you for agreeing and not sneaking out in the middle of the morning,” he replied with a bit of a chuckle that lit up his face. There was no good way to leave this, with a promise of something stronger, but still uneasy about what one's dynamic is in the now, “can I give you a hug?” He asked.

Oh thank god.

“Yeah, yes,” I said with a stumbled out laugh as he matched it before giving me a friendly “see you around” style hug. We parted with a half wave and I started making my way back to the train station.

I made it with a bit of a light jog as Anna dragged me in the direction of the platform so we could catch the train just pulling into the station. We quickly collapsed into seats before she finally turned to me.

“So… who's this?” She asked tugging on the sleeve of the clearly borrowed t-shirt.

“The guy who’s couch I crashed on last night. I made a comment about feeling gross about being in last night's clothes that he lent me a t-shirt.” Lent, gave, I wasn’t certain I wanted to broach that topic with Anna yet. Roommate first, acquaintances second. “How ‘bout you? Did you at least get coffee?”

“Yeah, he made a comment about his roommate being out so we ordered breakfast at his place, he was so nice.” She gushed. I watched as the realization crossed her face, “wait you said you’d tell me how you knew what he looked like when we met up,” she lightly wacked my arm with the back of her hand, “spill.”

I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck, “I was at breakfast with his roommate. Also known as his brother.” I said.

“Shut up! No fucking way,” she said with a laugh. We were getting looks from a few commuters in our immediate area and I tried to quiet her down. “That’s too funny,” she said in a slightly quieter tone. “Are you seeing him again?”

“Are you?” I countered.

“Maybe, he gave me his number, but I’m not certain.” She said, “Now tell me you coward,”

“Maybe,” I countered and she groaned at my dramatics.

“Insufferable, you fink.” She joked. I grinned a little as we continued some small talk before I agreed to let her rest on my shoulder until we got to the campus’ stop. 

I fished my phone out and figured that I should probably try and organize a date huh?

[one-night-story]

i’m so so happy you loved the fic!!! i’m so happy to have it posted for you finally 🫶🏻

thank you friennnndddd 💕💕💕

[snoopysavs]

And he feels like home (j. hughes)

Happy winter fic exchange! @one-night-story I am so thrilled to be able to have written this for you! I hope I created something that you love that you feel fully represented in and safe to read. 🩷

Demi @wyattjohnston, thank you as always for creating such a wonderful event for our community. Your hard work for these exchanges will never go unnoticed by me, I appreciate you so much.

And thank you to @thomasschabot for proofreading this for me and making sure it was accessible for all to read, I appreciate you so much my friend!

Title was taken from long story short by Taylor Swift. This is 4.7k words, gender neutral reader. It has been double checked by lovely c to ensure that it is safe for all to read <3

new neighbor

You considered yourself to be a very patient person. You were also extremely understanding. You didn't get upset or frustrated by much. You were a good person, sometimes you allowed people to get away with things for their own sake, even if it inconvenienced you in anyway. But at this point, you had had enough.

Since you moved into your apartment in August, you could probably count on one hand the amount of times you had talked to your neighbors. You were in the corner apartment, the last at the end of the hall, your only neighbors being two young men who you presumed to be brothers.

You ran into them a few times in the hallway, the two of them hardly ever separated. You knew they left in the mid afternoon, usually in suits. You assumed it was for work, but you never felt inclined to ask. They usually look rushed, the older one pestering the younger one to "hurry up" as he got out the door.

It was only this week that you had learned their names. A piece of their mail had accidentally been dropped in your box. The name addressed as "Jack Hughes." You contemplated what to do with it, standing at their door with the letter in your hands for a few minutes when the door suddenly burst open, the younger brother opening the door.

"Oh! Hello," he muttered out awkwardly. Neither of you had known the other's name, but you both knew each other as neighbors. "Hi! Are you Jack?" You asked awkwardly, not holding out the card, making your question seem like a random inquiry. "No, I'm Luke, Jack is my brother. Why do you ask? Do you need something?" He asked in an almost bothered tone, as if people frequently came to him asking for unwanted favors.

"Oh! Duh. A piece of Jack's mail got put in my box by accident. I assume it's okay if I drop it with you?" You asked, making you almost instantly face palm. "Yep, that works. Anyway, I'm late to something. Thanks for dropping it off..." He mumbled off at the end, not knowing what to insert for your name. You told him your name, and that was that.

That was earlier this week. This was now Friday. Occasionally, you could tell that they had some small parties. Nothing too outlandish for an apartment building that shared thin walls, but a decent amount of people resulting in a louder volume. You were young yourself, you were never going to complain for a small amount of volume on the occasional Saturday night. This however, had been far too much.

You swear this was the 3rd night in a row of their little parties, and you had dealt with far too much. It was mid April, you were studying for a big exam you had. Part of your move in August was to signal the start of your journey to get your masters degree. You were almost done with the semester, just a few big exams in between, this being one of them. You knew that it seemed a little lame, studying for exams on a Friday night, but part of the move was moving to New Jersey where there was a school that was one of the best in the country for your intended major, not super close to home. With all of your studying and academic work, including working to pay for the apartment and schooling, you didn't have much time to socialize. You had gone to coffee with some people from your classes, but not much beyond that, not enough to warrant Friday night plans towards the end of the semester.

Slamming your textbook, you decided you had officially reached your limit. You paced back and forth a bit, trying to calm down a bit in an attempt to hopefully not absolutely lose it on your neighbor. It wasn't that late, but you had been studying all day with minimal breaks. You couldn't see the end of the studying in sight if your neighbors kept the music at the volume they had. You wondered how the people on the other side of them weren't bothered by the noise, but then again you had probably seen them even less than you had seen Jack and Luke.

You slipped your feet into the pair of shoes closest to the door, banging on the door in an attempt for them to hear it over the blaring music. You took a small step back when a man you didn't recognize answered the door. "Can I help you?" A dark haired man with an accent asked. Before you could open your mouth, a very energetic Jack came bustling towards the door. "Y/N! To what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked with a charming smile, almost causing your reserve to break down. But when your brain came back after the sound of the music blared through your ears, you remembered why you were over here.

"Do you know what time it is?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's only 11. It's a Friday night. But based on your casual attire, I doubt that matters much to you," Jack quipped at your casual pajamas. "For your information, Jack, I'm studying for a big exam. Clearly you don't know much about that." You snapped back.

"For your information, my team just made the playoffs. We have a lot to celebrate." Jack flexed, causing his chest to puff out a bit. "I don't care which of your beer league teams made the playoffs, but I would really like to pass my first year of my masters program and not have to repeat. That is, after all, how I ended up here, as your neighbor." You were starting to lose your patience, and instead of Jack surrendering, he started laughing.

"Beer league, huh. Do you not know?" You rolled your eyes. "If this is your attempt at a 'Do you know who I am?' moment, you're failing severely. Or even better, if it's going to be a 'do you know who my father is?' Just save me the time, I have an exam to study for," you had one foot out the door when Jack grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

"Relax, I just figured you knew because that seems to be all anyone wants from us who lives in this building. Favors relating to our job. Luke and I play for the New Jersey Devils, the NHL team around here. It's okay that you don't know, however I hope now that you do, you'll choose us to be your favorite team." Jack smirked at you, causing you to giggle, which resulted in you immediately covering your mouth. What was happening to you? You didn't giggle over charming guys.

"Oh, did you guys win or something? Seems like an awfully long time to be celebrating one win," you quipped. "We made it into the playoffs. We are the number one seed. We've been celebrating for a few days because we have a bit of time off. I am sorry, it is probably excessive. We'll turn it down and remind the guys that we aren't the only ones who live here." Jack put his tail between his legs. You did feel a bit bad, but you were glad the noise was going to at least quiet down.

"I hope I didn't come off like a jerk, I just got flustered. I know you didn't know. I shouldn't have come over attacking." You muttered, causing Jack to smile.

"I'll accept your apology on one condition. Do you think you can find some time in your busy finals schedule to come to one of our games? I can get you more details when the playoffs schedule comes out, but I would it if you could come. I think Luke might be a little jealous that I softened you up first, but it just adds for some more bragging rights on the kid."

You couldn't believe your ears. Your cute, albeit a little clueless neighbor, was not only a professional athlete, but he was also asking you on a date if you weren't mistaken.

"Well Jack, I'd love to, but you just better hope I pass this exam." You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Good thing we're gonna turn the volume down."

2. first game

What do you wear to a hockey game that you were invited to by your neighbor who you have only talked to a few times but you think he may have been awkwardly potentially flirting with you when he invited you?

You were digging through your closet, looking for something appropriate to wear for probably one of the most awkward, unique events you have ever been to. You can't say that you had ever been to a professional hockey game. You weren't clueless to the rules and such, you just never had the opportunity to attend one in person.

Not to mention, you were going alone. You only had a few casual friends at school through this point in the year, and it didn't feel appropriate to bring any of them to this... interesting event you were going to. Plus, you were certain that you would be wrapped up in the game. You were nervous enough as is, and you can't imagine if you had to sit there and make awkward small talk with one of your classmates who might be able to say what your last name is.

Sitting in the uber on the way there made you start to question your choice of agreeing to go to the game. You had no idea how this would go other than you knew that Jack had slipped the ticket under your door earlier this morning and written on it was instructions on how to get to the gate. One thing that caused your cheeks to heat was that on the bottom of the post it note, was his phone number.

This made it feel almost official in a way, having his phone number. Before you could dwell on it too much, your uber pulled up to the door that Jack directed you to. You thanked the driver and walked in to the stadium, immediately overwhelmed by everything. For a second you considered turning around and making something up to Jack that you were sick, but when you took a second to look around, you saw so many happy people with Jack's last name plastered across their backs, number 86 standing proudly. You felt a sense of pride for Jack, though you weren't sure how to feel about that.

That sense of pride never went away once the game started. Your eyes were on Jack from the second his feet touched the ice, and the moment he sat on the bench. Your eyes followed him all the way to the bench, wishing the time he wasn't on the ice would go faster. You wondered why you had never been interested on hockey. Jack was so talented, and the game ended with him scoring a goal and getting two assists. You thought for a second that he was looking up at you when he scored, but you shook your head quickly to rid your brain of those thoughts.

As the game ended, it suddenly occurred to you that you weren't sure how this would end. You sat in your seat for a while letting the seats clear out, preparing to walk towards the gate that you entered in, opening the uber app. As soon as your phone unlocked, a message from Jack popped up on your phone.

"Meet me outside," it read. "I'd like to take you to dinner and drive you home. I'll meet you by the gate you entered in."

Your cheeks flushed at his admission, suddenly looking down at your outfit. Was this appropriate for a dinner date? You were not planning on this at all. You checked what you looked like in the front camera of your phone. Before you could decide whether or not you looked appropriate, you heard a familiar laugh. Your chest warmed at the idea that his laugh could be so familiar, so homey despite the fact that the two of you had not spent much time together.

Jack's feet sped up as he caught up to you, just excited to see you after a great win. His smile was contagious when he saw you standing there, staring at your sneakers in an attempt to not be noticed by the rest of the guys who might ask questions.

In the end, it wasn't Jack who spoke up first. It was Luke. "Y/N! I'm so glad you came! I wanted to score for you, but unfortunately this guy beat me to it," he smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulders. You tried to relax into his arms, telling yourself this was a new normal in your life. Casual banter with your neighbors who just so happen to be professional athletes making millions of dollars.

"Hey back off, I invited them. You dropped the ball. Your turn is up, by the way," Jack muttered, causing Luke to give a quizzical look. Taking advantage of Luke's moment of confusion, Jack sneaks around him and puts his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. A noise of surprise comes out of your mouth. Not discomfort, just surprise at his sudden display of physical affection. "That was awesome!" Jack yelled. "Did you have so much fun?" He asked, pulling away to see your face looking up at him.

"Well it would have been more fun if Luke scored for me but I guess I'll settle for your points," you teased. He smiled, his cheeks turning red at your teasing. "Y/N, is Jack blushing? Did you turn him into a shy mess?" Luke teased and Jack groaned, hiding his face in your shoulder. "I just want to impress you," he smiled which caused your entire body to heat up. It never occurred to you that he wanted to impress you. That you were there because he wanted you to be impressed with his game and how he played.

"Well don't worry, I was thoroughly impressed. Would you like to go to dinner now?" You asked. "Am I invited? Is this like a neighborly get together?" Luke was now teasing you both, causing both of you to get bashful. "Dude, clearly this is a date," Jack mumbled, causing your eyebrows to raise. "Clearly? Is that what we're calling it now. I mean I certainly thought it was, but you never asked me." You and Luke were truly just having fun with the teasing now.

"Jack, it's not very gentlemanly to assume it's a date. You really should ask, especially with someone like Y/N. They're a catch!" Jack was glaring daggers into Luke. "Yes, I should. Y/N, I would like tonight to be a date. Will you go out on a date with me?" Jack asked, grabbing your hand in his. You were grinning, nodding your head. "Well then, Luke I think it's past your bedtime. Why don't you go home with Holtzy and I will take Y/N out for dinner?" Luke shook his head, giggling. "Wouldn't you like that," he laughed. "Luke-" "Fine! Fine! I'm done. I'll go. Y/N, it was a pleasure to laugh with you. You kids enjoy yourself."

"I have a feeling we will."

3. first (real) date

Your dinner with Jack was perfect. You finally got the news back that you had passed the exam you were stressing about, and to celebrate, you got your favorite take out and watched Jack's game on the couch with a glass of wine. It was strange, to whole heartedly notice his absence when him and Luke were away for games. Right now, they were on a short West coast road trip, Denver, Arizona, and Seattle, and then heading back home for a few days off before a home game.

This was their last game being gone, and you found yourself waiting hopefully for Jack to come back. You had been texting a lot on the road trip, Jack even calling you once after he crawled into the empty bed next to Jesper's bed. According to Jack, his friend, teammate, and road roommate Jesper slept like the dead, even going as far as to wearing headphones when he slept, so there was no concern of the call waking him up. That didn't stop you from keeping your voice to a low volume, which Jack of course countered by yelling an obnoxious "What was that?" whenever he couldn't hear you.

After a Devils win, you crawled into bed for the night, finding yourself thinking of Jack, and how you couldn't wait to see him. You were in so deep.

------

As you cleaned up the remnants of your late afternoon lunch, a knock sounded on your door. You had a feeling you knew who it was, but you still checked the peephole to see Jack's face on the other side, nervously rocking back and forth on his feet, holding something in his hand.

Flowers.

"Hi, it's so good to see you!" You smiled, welcoming him inside. "These are for you. I wasn't sure if it was appropriate, but I wanted to ask you something, so I thought these might help. I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go to dinner with me on Friday? We have a game on Thursday night, and I thought a more formal, not after a game greasy pizza joint dinner would be fun. That is, if you are interested? If not, it's okay, I was just," you finally cut him off with a hand on his arm. "Jack! I'd love to. The flowers are beautiful. Thank you for thinking of me. I would love nothing more." You smiled, causing an audible sigh to come from Jack's lips.

"Oh thank God! Sorry, I didn't want to ramble, I just really got nervous. I wanted you to say yes but I didn't want to sound weird or make you uncomfortable." He smiled. Neither of you knew what was going on. Jack was stunned that his neighbor who he had barely talked to but admired from afar had turned him into a nervous, blushing mess. You also couldn't say you were expecting to fall for your neighbor. But when he was gone, you came to that conclusion: you were absolutely falling for Jack. You were falling for him, you couldn't understand how it had happened or why, but you absolutely were.

When it came time for your date to come, you felt more nervous than you did for the game. Jack had let you know that you were going to be going to a nicer restaurant. You picked his brain a bit at what to wear. What you didn't know is that he had preplanned his outfit, mannerisms, conversations, basically his every move for the date with his mom and brothers. Well, mostly Quinn. When Luke saw how nervous he was, he was constantly teasing him. Luke loved to tease him about how you should have fallen for him instead of Jack. Of course it was all jokes, as soon as the two of you started hanging out Luke could immediately see the chemistry between the two of you. He knew that your connection was much deeper than any sort of joke he could make. He was really happy for his older brother, finally seeing him fall for a person who made him truly happy.

When you decided on an outfit that was both appropriate for the occasion and made you feel good about yourself, you started pacing by the front door of your apartment, anxiously waiting for Jack to come. It was about 10 minutes before he said he would arrive. On the other side of the wall, Jack thought about coming a few minutes early, but his mom immediately shut that down. Jack argued that he wanted to seem timely and didn't want to keep you waiting. Ellen shut him down, though.

"How long does it take you to walk 10 steps next door? You never want to rush someone getting ready, especially for a first date." Luke was cackling in the background, of course.

At 6:00 on the dot, Jack was knocking on your door. He was almost more nervous than when he came by a few days before asking if you wanted to go to dinner with him, if that was even possible. When you opened the door, Jack planted his feet in the ground, willing himself to not fall over on his ass and make a complete fool of himself.

You were absolutely stunning. You looked so amazing in Jack's eyes. He felt himself blushing as soon as you opened the door. He was thanking his lucky stars, wondering how he had gotten so lucky as to find someone as special as you.

"Y/N..." he finally breathed out, his heart racing. "What? Do I look okay?" You began to feel nervous under his intense gaze, your hands instinctively picking at your fingernails. "Okay would be an insult. You look incredible. These are for you, by the way," Jack handed you the flowers he forgot he even had. "That's so sweet! You didn't have to bring me flowers. The ones you brought me a few days ago are still going strong. They will look beautiful together, though."

You took a minute to put the flowers in a vase. Jack was watching you from afar, you felt his eyes on you, following you around your small kitchen. Truthfully, he was admiring you. He couldn't help but blush at the sight of you, putting flowers in the vase that he bought for you, getting ready for the date that he was taking you out on. He felt like he won the lottery.

When you turned around, you saw him blushingly admiring you, causing your own cheeks to heat up. "What has you so smiley?" you asked, taking a step closer to him, bravely grabbing his hand in yours. You rubbed your thumb over his hand in an attempt to help him feel calm. Jack was certain no one had ever made him feel this nervous. Certainly not someone he was dating. "I just can't believe how beautiful you are. I feel so lucky that you are going out with me."

Both of you were nervous wrecks at this point. Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you were leaning forward, kissing him on the cheek. As soon as Jack felt your lips on his skin, he knew he had to kiss you. "Can I kiss you? Like, on the lips," he muttered, causing you to giggle. "Yes Jack, you can kiss me, like on the lips." He groaned at your teasing, but before he could throw his head back exasperatedly, you leaned forward, capturing his lips with your own.

Jack felt himself melt, holding onto your waist in an attempt to hold himself up straight. It was official. You had softened Jack into a gushy, pillowy mess. And Jack had never been so happy.

+1. as a couple

6 months later

"Jack, honey, if you keep stomping any louder, the people below us are gonna come complain," you muttered teasingly at him. "You really think they can hear you? Besides, if they came and complained, I would simply explain to them that my amazing partner, whom I care for very much, is meeting my family for the first time, and I think they would understand." He quipped back, causing you to laugh.

Jack's parents were coming in to town for the first time in the new season. Before you met Jack, you had long planned to spend the summer abroad with your closest friend. Jack was thrilled for you, but disappointed you wouldn't be able to spend time together over the summer at his summer house. He did however, jet off to meet you in Italy for a week, which was perfect. Ordinarily, you probably would have met Jack's parents already, but with the chaos of your summer, it was now the Devils home opener, and you had yet to meet your boyfriend's parents.

"If I'm so amazing, why are you so nervous for me to meet them?" Jack groaned, causing you to laugh. Teasing each other was something so common, but it was always done lovingly. It was almost a love language of sorts between the two of you.

"Babe, how many times have I talked to Quinn on FaceTime with you? And Luke is the best friend I have here in Jersey, besides you obviously, so it's just your parents. Who, by the way, we have also Facetimed with a handful of times together."

"I know, but in person it's different. They might get knocked on their ass by your good looks and charm, just like I was. And besides, if you think Luke's teasing and sarcasm is bad, just wait until you meet my dad. Where do you think he gets it from?" Jack continues to ramble. To an outsider, it might look like Jack didn't want you to meet his parents, but you both knew it was the complete opposite. The two of you hadn't been together for that long, but in a way that didn't matter. Jack was close to saying the "l word," and you probably weren't that far behind him. He wanted you to meet his parents because he wanted them to love you as much as he did. You felt the same way.

In an attempt to stop his never ending nerves, you took the few steps across the room towards him, putting your hand on his cheek and pulling him in for a soft kiss. "Jack, I am thrilled to meet your parents. If it makes you feel any better, I am a bit nervous too. I want them to like me. Although, I'm sure you've bored them to tears with stories making me seem like I'm the most amazing person on the Earth." "Because you are," Jack intervened, serious as a heart attack.

You laughed at his genuine tone, he was always buttering you up. "They'll love you, because you're amazing. Besides, Lukey and Quinn already love you. This will be easy work for you. The shock of me being in a serious relationship has already worn off. They're thrilled to meet you," you laughed at his half hearted attempt at a joke.

"Besides, I'm sure they will be so excited to meet the person who has turned you into a sap," you laughed, causing Jack's mouth to open in shock. "I am not a sap!" He tried to quip back, but you both knew he was absolutely lying. He was so soft on you, something none of his loved ones had ever seen. "Jack, yesterday you laid your nice jacket over a puddle in the nasty streets of Jersey for me to walk over because there was no way around it," you stared back at him. "That puddle was huge! Your pant legs would've been soaked, I know you would've hated that." You laughed at his kind hearted attempt at an explanation.

"You are one of a kind Jack Hughes," you started. "I truly love you." As soon as the words came out of your mouth, your hand covered it in shock. Of course you loved Jack, but you were so nervous to tell him. You had never said those words to someone romantically before, and you were both certain he would say it first, even though you hadn't talked about it before.

"You love me?" He asked, his voice quivering. "Of course I love you, did you miss the puddle story? I would be crazy not to have fallen in love with you." At this point, both of your eyes were watery, Jack's grip on your shoulders never wavering. "Oh my God, you love me. Oh my God, wait, I love you! I love you so much! I can't believe I haven't said it back yet! I love you!" Jack was over the moon, causing you to laugh wetly.

You had absolutely softened Jack to his core. But you were nothing but soft for him, the two of you a perfect match for each other. When you pulled each other in for a kiss, the love between the two of you was imminent, the nerves of the upcoming event melting away. Jack couldn't wait to introduce you to his parents as his partner whom he loved so much, and you couldn't wait to love them as much as you loved him.

[one-night-story]

hello! this is your fic exchange writer! I am sorry for the radio silence, the craziness of the holidays is just finally settling down enough for me to get started. I have the works of the fic fleshed out, and I just wanted to confirm that your top 3 choices to read for would be Matthew tkachuk, mat barzal, and jack Hughes. I know you said that previously but I just wanted to confirm before I choose in case it is changed because it's been a while since I asked!

again, sorry for the silence. this will absolutely be done in time for the deadline, I just have gotten a bit of a slow start!

Bestie, you are totally fine. I thought the deadline was the end of december (very silly in retrospect but panicky in the moment when i had all my energy sucked out of me due to a post holiday cold) so I have a good chunk of mine written (i need to edit and end it but WE’RE GETTING THERE)

The top three are correct and I’m so excited to see what you’re gonna work out.

[one-night-story]

hi!! it’s your fic exchange writer back again :) i wanted to ask you some clarifying questions to assure i will write something perfect for you. if you don’t feel comfortable answering these, no biggie. i just wanted to ask you a few questions to avoid any details that would be uncomfortable for you.

i think i’m gonna go with reader insert because gender neutral oc can be difficult for me to write. i wanted to know if you would prefer more neutral traits? or potentially just avoid them at all if possible.

additionally, if there’s anything that you feel is really important/essential to your identity that you would like me to know, pls let me know if you’re comfortable sharing. i want to make sure that you feel completely comfortable and represented in the reader insert.

i hope you don’t mind me asking these kinds of questions. i myself use they them pronouns, so i completely understand the desire to feel represented in a reader insert and i don’t want to write anything that would make you uncomfortable in any way shape or form.

hello friend!

Totally chill, completely get it. I trip up sometimes and i’ve got more than one. As for the other stuff, the thing that like… summarizes it for me (poorly, mind you) is “fem doesn’t always mean long hair”

What I mean by that is I deeply prefer reader inserts with no physical descriptions, because usually when one gets put in, it feminizes a gn reader. “I put my hair up into a bun” has always taken me out because i’ve never had hair that long. Outfits that go one step into the feminine sphere will also knock me out. I cannot wear skirts because of the Wrong Gender Vibes (maybe one day if I can wear one that makes me feel more Masc In A Skirt, but we’re not there yet bestie) so when there’s absolutely 0 description, or at least is limited to no specifications, that tends to be where my comfort lies.

Thanks friend!

[one-night-story]

hello! this is your fic exchange writer! i’m so excited to be able to write something for you and i’d love to hear your thoughts on a few things :)

* of the list of players that you said you’d like to read for, do you have a top 3? or anyone you’ve really liked reading for lately?

* do you have a preference on whether you prefer reader insert or oc?

* do you like winter themed fics? just winter themed, i wouldn’t include any holidays unless you would like that 😊

* lastly do you have a specific trope or genre you’d really like to read this time around?

i’m looking forward to hearing back from you and getting started on writing!

Hi hi friend! Oh i’m hyped for this, but hell yeah, let’s get it

ooo, top three? Matthew Tkachuk, Mat Barzal, and Jack Hughes? Tyler is also in there as a very close tied third. He’s important to me (he is the reason i’m in this mess in the first place)

Reader insert or oc is fine by me! My only request in regards to reader insert is I’d prefer to lean it more towards gender neutrality. As a nb myself, solely femme coded reader inserts have a habit of taking me straight out

Winter theme fics are a vibe! I’m an agnostic christmas-er (aka: commercial christmas not religious christmas) so i don’t mind holiday specific mentions but winter is a third place season (top two are spring and fall, the only times i am any level of fashionable)

In regards to tropes or genre, I leave genre to you. But i’m always a sucker for “fake dating, but everyone’s just placing their bets”, “help i need a wedding date”, “players and the person that treats them like Just Some Guy”, and strangers to lovers are also all fun

I’m uber excited to see what you come up with and feel free to poke back if you need clarification!

[one-night-story]

I Used “Wonderful” and “Miracle” (Astarion)

A/N: I saw this post and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Sans the mention of my Tav’s name (Riona) you can imagine anyone. Enjoy!

Summary: Life among the bloodshed is a pleasent surprise

“Riona!” Astarion called out and I dropped my head to my chest. Never a good sign when Astarion needed me with that level of franticness.

“Yes, star?”I asked as I looked up from one of the books Gale had let me borrow. Astarion looked… well frenetic was probably the best word for it but as per usual, he was trying to cover for it.

“I might have a… minor hiccup for our journey.”

“How minor?” I asked with an eyebrow raise. I was already traveling with a vampire, a time bomb, a devil, and someone on fire. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fucking tadpoles, so minor had become… subjective.

“Well, I don’t think it will kill us, but it could be viewed as an inconvenience.” I held back an eye roll as I put a bookmark in my book, shutting it with finality.

“What is it?”

“It might be easier if I show you,” he said.

“This better not end with a knife at my throat again.”

“Never,” Astarion said and led me in the direction of his tent. It was only now that I noticed his unusual lack of shadow.

Belladonna, or simply Bell, was one of the handful of creatures who lived in camp. She, as far as Gale and Halsin could figure, was just a regular old cat who, by some miracle, took a shine to Astarion, following him around and keeping him company. At first he’d been indignant, trying to convince the cat to leave and trying to scare it. But when it hadn’t worked (and Gale named her) he reluctantly allowed the cat to stay. She’d been a welcome addition and Scratch and Screech treated her well.

“Where’s Bell?” I asked.

“That’s why I’ve brought you,” he said, pushing his tent flap open. I glanced at him and he just gestured inside.

I started my way in and finally saw his problem.

When Bell had come to us, she’d been a little pudgy, but we wrote it off as her being fluffy or as her having been well taken care of before she found herself to our mismatched family.

Staring at her now with… shit, eight kittens, it appeared that prior assumptions had not been the case and she had, in fact, been very pregnant. I tried to keep my heart from melting at the sight, I understood why Astarion had been nervous. The eight (ha, that felt like fate) of us could barely take care of ourselves let alone Bell and her newborns.

“When did this happen?” I asked.

“Sometime between when I got up this morning and when you dismissed us after figuring out our rest day duties.” Astarion replied. I looked down at Bell who poked her head up and let out a little chirp of a meow.

“What do you wanna do, star?” I asked.

“That’s why I called you over!” He huffed and I tried not to chuckle at his frustration, even if it was deeply amusing.

“Wouldn’t it have been more productive to call Halsin over? Y’know, the one who can talk to her?” I asked with a chuckle that couldn’t help escape. Astarion furrowed his brow and I refused to call the look on his face a pout, lest I be accused of favoritism.

“Yes, well,” he hesitated for a second and chose his words, “I wanted to… well..”

“Star?” I asked softly, even with this camp’s collection of traumas bouncing off each other like children’s toys, Astarion always had a different tightrope to walk. “We’re not gonna make you give her up,” I said.

“What, she’s not,”

“Star, she’s permanently at your side and sleeps in your tent, in spite of Gale’s attempt to sway her away. She’s yours. Lemme go get Hal, to make sure everyone’s healthy, then we’ll talk about how to move everyone when it comes time, okay?” I offered my hand up, a small act of affection so as not to overwhelm him (we were still working on that) and he took it, squeezing it once.

“Thank you,” he said softly. I smiled and squeezed it back before ducking out of his tent and in search of our local druid. I found him by the river near our campsite.

“Hey Hal, got a free minute?”

“Of course, what can I do?”

“Bell was pregnant,”

“Ah,”

“And we want to make sure mom and kittens are healthy,” I said.

“Of course, show me the way,” I led Halsin to Astarion’s tent and that caught Karlach’s attention.

“What’s all the commotion eh?”

“Bell had kittens,” I said. Astarion gave me a look of disapproval but it was quickly distracted by Karlach’s squee of glee.

“Really?!”

“Really,” Halsin called from inside the tent. “Eight of them.”

“EIGHT!?” Karlach and Astarion said simultaneously.

“Did you not count them?” I asked Astarion.

“Excuse me, I was in shock!” He huffed. I couldn’t help but smile a little at his dramatics.

“What’s the verdict Hal?” I asked. He poked his head out of the tent.

“For an unassisted birth, they’re all perfectly healthy. Bell seems fine, but you might want to get a new bedroll.” He said.

“You’re joking,”

“Unless you want to sleep in blood and…”

“Alright!” Astarion said. He wandered into the tent as Karlach and I stood at the entrance. He went over and gave Bell a scratch under her chin, her purs could’ve probably been heard on the Astral Plane. “A little warning next time, could you darling?” He asked her. He received a small meow in response and some confused kitten chirps.

“Oh my gods look at them!” Karlach beamed, “they’re so small!” I looked over to see the rest of the camp coming over where I explained the situation with ease. Those who wanted to see the little ones (Gale, Shadowheart, and Wyll) came into the tent and I stepped out with Astarion for a second.

“If you want, you can crash with me for a bit until the kittens are up on their own.” I said off-handedly, not directly looking at him, just sort of looking at the camp as a whole.

“Darling,” he said, lilt leaning into the word so much I was afraid he’d fall over, “how scandalous,” he said.

“Don’t be weird,”

“I would never,” he said and I risked a glance out of the side of my eye, finding him looking at me with his performed grin but warm eyes. “I will… consider your offer. Thank you darling,”

“Don’t mention it, better than trying to bunk with anyone else,” I joked. He took my hand and squeezed it once, and gained one from me back.

[one-night-story]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

since i did actually finally write something for the first time in forever. Here, have an Assassin’s Creed College AU with more OCs than you can shake a stick at

[toadpeee]

“Your art isn’t valued by the number of notes you get” okay but. If you spent 6 hours baking a cake for a party, but no one at the party eats your cake, it’s still disappointing.

[i-wear-the-cheese]

This articulates something about the different between value and validation that I didn’t previously register on a conscious level.

[nevercure]

This is why I tell people I feel more like an entertainer than an artist.

I want to hear them laugh, chat, comment, speak, roar, cry, get irrationally angry, I need people to respond to my art and get inspired and need more.

I don’t want a note, I want a response.

[aspex-t]

Responses are very nice. I like reading over them. They make me feel fuzzy. Of course, likes and reblogs are also very appreciated, but responses make me feel a special kinda fuzzy.

[astraltrickster]

That’s the thing about the “oh, create for yourself, don’t worry about other people!” attitude (that almost exclusively comes from non-artists and people who have tons of followers and routinely get tons of validation for SOME reason) that doesn’t quite work. I guarantee you, most of us already ARE creating for ourselves above all-

But we POST our creations for human connection, and that’s not a bad thing.

[sagechanoafterdark]

I’m not sure when we all got to the point where wanting validation for something you worked hard at is seen as a bad thing. That you’re pathetic for wanting.

If you think that way it’s not only toxic as hell it’s killing creators.

Creating isn’t easy. When there’s nobody to look at your work and say, “You did a good job. This was hard.” The drive and ambition disappears, then so does the work.

Give your content creators value.

Reblog content.

[one-night-story]

and it’s coming through like static on the phone (Jake Oettinger)

a/n: oh hi, i am not becoming a permanent hockey fic blog, it’s just a coincidence. This is for @jxmieoleksiaks by way of @antoineroussel ‘s summer fic exchange! I’m so sorry this took so fucking long and also not what i originally implied. But this came to me and i couldn’t put it away. I hope you enjoy!!

I didn’t like bars at the best of times.

Even on their quiet days, their tables were pushed too close together making it hard to move around if you weren’t a beanpole and while they made for great places to people watch, the feeling of the reverse was happening was something I couldn’t always shake, especially when I was sitting at the bar proper and my back was to the door.

But when my friend Ashley insisted I had to come out tonight to help her get over her most recent breakup, I was all but contractually obligated to go out. That best friend code can really be a bitch sometimes.

The three of us: Ashley, Katie, and I had been through so much even in the eighteen months we’d known each other. Well, at least for Ashley and I. Katie and I had known each other since college, moving to Dallas together when she got a lucrative job in public relations, she met Ashley on the job and since then they’d been my closest friends as I kept working at edits on my manuscript that had quickly devoured my life. Mostly because one of them was responsible for making sure I ate at regular hours and the other was in charge of making sure I left the house once and a while to get some sunlight and “didn’t become a moss that was previously unknown to science growing at my desk” on weekends. I was thankful for Katie for not minding the fact that I was working minimum wage jobs while I tried to get this into a state to start shopping around to agents.

Which meant I was nine times out of ten the Designated Driver due to a lack of disposable income for bar hopping nights. Which unfortunately included tonight, when all I wanted to do was do another pass on the romantic subplot I was trying and mildly failing to integrate. Not that I didn’t know how, it was just… not starting any way that made sense to my characters. Not unusual in my process, but it meant sitting on it for a bit.

Being the DD meant staying sober and that meant listening to Ashley’s drunken rambling about the latest fling that she was hoping would turn into something real, even though the one time she’d introduced her to the group, he was kinda… mediocre to put it politely.

“And I don’t know… I just thought he’d at least be a little different, right?” She said.

“Ash, c’mon, he’s a guy,” Katie said through a slight slur. Katie was… a bit of a lightweight, and I was just thankful they didn’t have work in the morning so I didn’t have to deal with the complaints about a hangover. “They’re never different,”

“Except when they are!!” Ashley exclaimed, pouting in the process. I took a sip of my drink as I watched them launch into another debate, which could take a while, scanning the bar in the process. In the far corner was a bundle of guys having about as lively a conversation about something just as dramatic if the limb flailing was any sign. Though, sitting on the edge was a guy who seemed to be having the same problem I was, zoning out and scanning the bar.

He was cute, in that sort of way you might call a puppy cute? Scruffy hair, at least a couple inches taller than at least a handful of his friends, but seemingly sweet. He caught my eye and raised his beer to me, which got a wave from me.

“Wait, who are you waving at?” Ashley cut into my brain space, dragging me away from looking at the guy across the bar.

“Shit is she? Lemme see,” Katie said, practically trying to crawl over me.

“Would you calm down, it’s nothing,” I said, struggling to push her back into her seat.

“You were waving at someone! Who is it? Are they cute? Do they have friends?” Ashley said as she did a more aggressive scan of the bar.

“Do you really need a rebound that soon?” I asked.

“No… but anyone catching your eye is bound to have cute friends.”

“I think I’m gonna take that as a compliment,”

“There, there!” Katie said, pointing to the gaggle of boys on the far side. In spite of all the noise my table was making, the boys seemed to be making more and by a miracle, hadn’t noticed my friends’ open gawking. Ashley whipped her head from interrogating me to seeing where Katie was pointing.

“Oh they are cute,” Ashley said.

“Would you two shut up?” I hissed trying to distract them. “You’re making us look desperate. For all we know they’re younger than us and we’re cradle robbing.”

“No way, all of them have a beer in front of them,” Ashley said.

“Okay, but you’re still making us look desperate,”

“Oh so men can openly stare at us like it’s nothing, but when we do it it’s desperate.” Katie argued, seeming to sober up in case we had to make an impression.

“She’s got a point,” Ashley said as she turned back to me, “C’mon, when’s the last time you went on a date.”

“Um…” Embarrassing questions lead to embarrassing answers. That answer being never. Not that I haven’t tried? Okay no, college was a nightmare of just trying to remember how to make friends, jeopardizing any of those relationships with actual, proper dating was the reason I only speak to two of the friends I met in my first year. Not to mention I was stuck in a high school where everyone had known each other for years so by senior year we had violent grudges against half of our class. So yeah, maybe I’m lacking a little in the romance department.

“Shit,” Fuck I hadn’t said anything fast enough and now Ashley was getting close. “You’ve never been on a date?”

“I thought you were dating that theatre major, the blonde one.” Katie cut in.

“We were in a Dungeons and Dragons party together, he didn’t like me walking across campus at night alone.” I said throwing my hands up in defense.

“And you’re sure that wasn’t just a ploy?” Ashley asked.

“What part of “We were playing Dungeons and Dragons” together did you not catch?” I asked with a deadpan expression.

“Well now you have to go over,” Ashley said.

“What, no I don’t, that’s—“

“Nope, you gotta, it’s required,” Katie cut in, pushing me out of my seat.

“What the fuck—“

“Just be yourself!” Ashley said.

“Be myself? I’m garbage!”

“HEY! Nobody talks about my best friend that way!” Katie cut in, giving me one final shove out of my chair forcing me to stand. “Go get ‘em tiger,” she added with a wink. I rolled my eyes and stood up a little bit so it looked like I had actually intended to get up. I shot a glare at the table before sighing and settling on going towards the bar like that was my ultimate goal. Maybe I’d get lucky and gain some nerve between the table and there, maybe my friends would realize they were fucking stupid and would come over and apologize for getting me into this mess, or maybe just maybe a portal into another dimension would open up and swallow me whole and take me to a dimension where I’m in the middle of a romance harem arc already.

… Actually that wasn’t half bad, I might need to write that one.

I made it to the bar with only a mild struggle of trying to not knock into people. I quietly waited for one of the bartenders to come over and pretend to acknowledge my presence when I decided to scan the bar again. The bundle of guys was still there, though it was missing the one I saw earlier, and I tried to not let some amount of disappointment crawl into my bones.

Despite of my lack of experience, or maybe because of it, I was still trying to hold out a little hope that some rom com worthy moment would happen and I would get swept up off my feet, in spite of the fact that I A) know that the real world doesn’t work like that and more importantly B) Romcoms don’t happen for people like me. It just means that suffering in crowded bars being a DD was just a way to people watch and maybe figure out how to get better at writing bars.

“So, are your friends always that rowdy?” Someone asked next to me and I turned around. There was the guy from before with a sheepish smile and radiating the sort of nervousness that I felt at the best of times, and I was right about him being taller, even sitting on a bar stool, he towered over me in a way that I surprisingly didn’t find intimidating. I laughed a little at his comment before shrugging.

“If I said no that would technically be lying,” I said. He laughed a little at that, which I counted as a definite win. “Cut them some slack, we’re performing post breakup therapy,” I added, as if I had to defend myself.

“I don’t know whether or not to be hopeful if it was yours.” He said.

“It wasn’t but I was already single.” And there I go saying something stupid. He smiled a little wider at that.

“Then I’m sorry for your friend, but I’m glad to hear it wasn’t for you, and that you're single.” He said. “I’m Jake, and my rowdy friends would not shut up until I came over and told you that I think you’re really pretty.” He said, offering his hand. I smiled and let a small chuckle escape me.

I offered up my name and shook his hand. “And my rowdy friends literally pushed me out of my chair in the hopes that I would talk to you. Gotta say, I’m really happy you approached me first, I so did not want to face down your table.” Least of which was because of the flashbacks to high school that I never wanted to live through ever again so long as I was above ground.

“Ah, they’re not so bad, just… loud.” Jake said and I briefly peaked over his shoulder where some of them pretended to not be looking at me while the others chatted amongst themselves.

“Right, and my friends are only sort of spying on this whole conversation.” I said, knowing full well that Katie and Ashley were staring daggers into my back. Jake risked peeking over my shoulder and chuckled when he looked back at me.

“Okay, fair enough,” he said. I went silent for a second as I struggled to figure out what to ask or say, we’d gotten this far and honestly, that was impressive for me at the very least. Do I ask for his number? Ask him for a drink? Coffee? Marriage? Okay, even I know that last one was pushing it but still! I sighed slightly and figured I’d go for… vague honesty? Vague honesty worked.

“Okay, I honestly have… a subpar education in the “chatting to cute strangers at bars” thing that most people seemed to have sort of learned by this point, so…”

“Oh thank god it’s not just me,” he said and I laughed as we both seemingly exhaled from that. “Honestly that was 70% of the reason I was nervous to come talk to you, that and your one friend looks like she could tear my head off.”

“Yeah, Ashley is really dedicated to arm day,” I joked knowing that both of my friends were ferocious the same way that a chihuahua was ferocious.

“I can tell,” he said but he quickly shook his head, “but I uh… I was wondering if I could get your number and we could do… coffee? That’s what people usually do right?”

“Yeah Jake, that’s usually what people do,” I said still grinning ear to ear, “pass me your phone,” he did and I quickly added my number to his contacts. “And I’d love to do coffee.”

“Awesome,” he said, smiling so wide I’m pretty positive my face hurt just looking at it. “That went way better than I expected.”

“Oh same, honestly,” I said.

“So… I’ll text ya?”

“Yeah, nice meeting you Jake,”

“You too,” he said and I watched as he went back to his table and was greeted with absolutely delighted cheers. I couldn’t help but giggle a little at the exchange as I went back to my own table.

“Did you get anything?” Ashley asked.

“I gave him my number,” I said.

“HELL YEAH!!!” Katie yelled, throwing her hands in the air. I felt my phone vibrate.

I guess that it went over well

Oh shit, it’s jake

I laughed a little.

Yeah i know.

So… coffee?

[one-night-story]

Hii it's your fic exchange writer again!! Sorry for so many questions but I am almost done with the fic and I just wanted to ask: are there any topics you'd like me to avoid?

How do you feel about Parental relationships/sibling relationships in the fic?

Hi hi, no worries!!!

Topics to avoid? Pregnancy. As someone who’s ace it’s not something I’m good reading about. (More power to the writers and people who get some enjoyment out of it, it’s just a squick for me)

I don’t mind parental/sibling dynamics in fic! In spite of the fact that i’m on pretty okay terms with my rents and I’m an only child, I can pretend to live in a sibling household for a bit

Hope this helps!