#nhl fic
WINNER, WINNER, CHICKEN DINNER ― matthew tkachuk
note: the win. i think i’m still on a high and they aren’t even a team i’m actively rooting for. also, this fic is part of the “matthew the family man” series, so check out this masterlist for more.
pair:matthew tkachuk x reader
summary: pre win and post win.
warnings: alcohol consumption, mild cursing
word count: 741 words
matthew was getting ready in the bathroom when jamie walked in, wearing his own little suit, “what’re you getting dressed up for?”
“going with you, daddy.” jamie answered.
matthew smiled, picking up max and setting him on the counter, and helping him tie his tie. you walked into the bathroom, wearing your special red playoff jean jacket.
“what happened to your speical jersey?” you asked.
“didn’t want to.” jamie shrugged, “wanted to match with daddy,” he smiled.
“oh.” you nodded, brushing his hair.
“i need help.” olivia announced, joining you in the bathroom.
“me too.” max, ever the mama’s boy, ran in after olivia and ran right into your legs.
“oof.” you grunted, “what do you need help with?”
“i can’t tie my shoes,” he admitted shyly.
“come on, let’s get shoes on you.” you smiled, picking him up and carrying him back out to his room.
“what do you need help with?” matthew asked, bending down to olivia’s height.
“mommy said she would help me with my hair.” olivia smiled.
“sadly, i can’t help you with that.”
the entire tkachuk family had flown in to see matthew play, whether that was at home or in dallas. it made life easier knowing that at any given point, all three tkachuk kids were either with their aunt, uncle or grandparents.
olivia was standing up close to the glass, trying to spot matthew. jamie was sitting in between chantel and keith while max was with you and taryn. brady was off somewhere being a menace.
“daddy!” olivia cheered, slapping her hands on the glass. that caught both max and jamie’s attention and they both shot up, eyes immediately glued on the ice.
matthew skated over, a few pucks in hand and he tossed three over the glass for your three kids, then tossed a few more to a few kids around you.
he turned his attention back to the three kids in front of him and waved. he blew them all kisses and told him he loved them. he blew you a kiss and sent you a wink, then skated back, blowing kisses to the rest of his family.
the stars were up by one but you were hopeful because it was only the second period. the puck went down into flames’ zone, then jacob hit it over to johnny who skated towards the net then passed it over to matthew who took his shot and made it.
the horn sounded and the crowd went wild. you were sure, out of everyone in the entire arena, that the tkachuk family was cheering the loudest.
by the end of the game, max was asleep. olivia and jamie were wide awake though, due to the giant soda uncle brady had given them halfway into the second period.
you waited for matthew to finish up media in the tunnel, “can we go find daddy?” olivia asked.
“daddy’s doing interviews,” you told her.
“where’s that?” jamie asked.
“over there.” you pointed. they looked over, then looked back over at you, silently asking to go in.
you thought about it, “i’ll take them.” chantel volunteered.
“don’t cause too much trouble,” you told them, and they instantly smiled, linking hands with their grandma and making their way into the media room.
matthew was mid-question when he heard them walk in. he instantly brightened up and motioned for them to come over. they looked over at chantel, who nodded, and they ran over, hugging their dad.
“hey, what’re you guys doing here?” he laughed, kissing their heads and letting them climb into his lap.
“are you almost done?” olivia asked, causing everyone else in the room to laugh.
“yeah liv. almost done.” he pressed another kiss to her head and got back to the interview.
“and one last question for olivia and jamie, are you guys excited that your dad made it to round one?”
“yeah.” they both nodded.
“thanks, guys.” matthew nodded, and let the kids hop off his lap and made his way out to the tunnel. he spotted the tkachuk clan almost as soon as he stepped out of the media room and made a beeline over to you, each hand linked with a child.
“there’s my superstar.” you grinned, leaning over the sleeping child and kissing him.
“you did great, dude.” brady patted him on the back.
“can we get ice cream?” jamie asked.
“maybe tomorrow. you’re a little past your bedtime.” olivia and jamie pouted.
-
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― andrei svechnikov
NOTE:here is my contribution to the met gala world. the outfit inspo is from this year’s theme (gilded glamour), so that’s the year we’re using (2022’s met gala). here is y/n’s outfitandthe hair. and here’s andrei’s (imagine the tie as the same color as the dress).
PAIR:andrei svechnikov x reader
SUMMARY: andrei goes to his first met gala.
WARNINGS:none really
WORD COUNT: 1142 words
(gif not mine)
With the amount of fake hair in your head, you felt like you were gonna fall over if the wind blew too hard, “If I fall over…”
“I’ll catch you.” Andrei laughed.
“It’s not funny. Do you know how much fake hair is in my head right now?” You told him.
“I’ll be right there.” He reassured, kissing your hand in fear of messing up the accessories adorning your head.
As you pulled up in front of the Met, your started wringing your hands nervously. Andrei noticed and reached over, putting his hand on top of yours.
“You’re gonna do great.” He kissed your hand again.
The door opened and Andrei got out first so he could help you out. An assistant who was with Celine, the brand that designed your dress, helped you as you got out of the limo, making sure the dress didn’t get caught in anything.
You smiled and waved to the cameras as they snapped at a rapid pace. You slowly made your way up the stairs and into the main eye of all the cameras.
Andrei stood by your side, arm around your waist as he smiled and posed for pictures. This wasn’t his first red carpet event, but it was his first Met Gala, and you knew he was secretly freaking out inside.
“You’re doing great, just a little bit longer, then we can go.” You reassured, running a hand up his back.
He smiled, kissing your head. He made his way up the stairs and stood at the top, waiting for you, out of the camera’s way. You posed for a few more pictures, before following Andrei and walking up the stairs.
He helped you up and you were led over to where Emma Chamberlin was stationed. You gasped when you saw her hair, “Look at you.”
“Look at you.” She gasped.
“Your hair.”
“I know. 7 hours.”
“I think if I dyed my hair again, it would fall out.” She laughed.
“Speaking of hair…”
“Yes.”
“How much of it is fake?”
“More than half.” You laughed, “No, but really. I was just telling Drei in the car, if I fall over, because it’s so heavy, if I fall over, you better catch me.”
“Is it really that heavy?”
“It’s like having a checked piece of luggage on your head.”
“I could never.”
“This is definitely the first and last time.”
“This isn’t your first Met is it?”
“This is my second, and honestly, I feel so out of place.” You laughed.
“Oh, me too.” She nodded immediately.
“Like, I saw Blake Lively arrive in the hotel and a few minutes before I got here, I heard Kacey Musgraves was here.”
“Um, I’m starstruck seeing you here.”
“I’m Starstruck standing next to you.”
“Oh, stop it.” She laughed, “So, tell me, who is this?”
“This is custom Celine. I was looking up pictures on Pinterest, because I’m a Pinterest girly, and I was showing the designer, Francois LeFleur my ideas, but he cut me off very quickly and showed me a few designs he drew when he first heard I was working with them.”
“What is this inspired by?”
“Well, I’m getting married this year.” You beamed proudly, “So, it was wedding-dress inspired. And I’m a big fan of My Fair Lady, so Francois sort of took that has inspired and ran with it.”
“And now, the fiancé is here.” You stepped aside so Andrei could stand next to you, “You look quite snazzy.”
“Thank you, you look beautiful too.” Andrei complimented.
“Thank you. So, tell me a bit more about this outfit.”
“This is also custom Celine.”
“Ooh, matchy.” She joked.
“Yeah, and I didn’t want anything too flashy because I’m not the star of the show here and I didn’t want to outshine Y/N, so we took inspiration from men in the gilded age.”
“Well, you guys look amazing, as always, and I can’t wait for the wedding.”
“Thank you.” You smiled, giving her a quick hug, “I’ll definitely find you in there.”
“Oh, me too.” She nodded, waving as you were led off into the museum. She turned back to the camera and stared, wide-eyed, “I didn’t want to outshine her.” She fanned herself, “I want that.”
-
“My next guest is taking the acting world by storm as Emelia LaRue in season 2 of Bridgerton, please welcome Y/N Y/L/N.” Drew Barrymore announced.
You walked out from behind the stage, waving to the crowd. When you saw Drew, you hugged her, “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“I know!” You squealed, sitting down in the chair across from you, “I think this is one of the first in-person interviews I’ve done since before the world crashed.”
“Really? Well, I’m honored.” You smiled, “This isn’t your first in-person fancy event though, is it?”
“No.” You shook your head.
“You went to the Met just a few weeks ago.”
“Yes.”
“And can I just say, you looked amazing?”
“Thank you, thank you.” You smiled.
“And I watched the interview you did with Vouge, My Fair Lady?”
“My parents showed it to me at a young age, and since then, Audrey Hepburn has been one of my icons, both in fashion and in acting.”
“Love.” She nodded.
“So, I just knew I had to pay homage to that somehow.”
“You looked absolutely gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I ask about the wedding?”
“Yes.” You smiled shyly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear nervously.
“Do you guys have a date yet?”
“Sometime during hockey off-season.”
“Right, hockey.” She nodded.
“So, sometime in June or July?”
“And has planning started yet?”
“Honestly, I’m so scrambled with hockey and I have some upcoming projects, so I hired a wedding planner, and honestly, best decision I’ve ever made.”
“And one more quick thing before we go to break, can we talk about hockey?”
“Of course.” You nodded.
“Your fiancé, Andrei, his team is currently in the playoffs, right?”
“Yeah, the Canes are in the playoffs. Whoo!” You laughed.
“Go Canes!” Drew cheered.
“And I actually have a gift from the Canes for you.”
“For me?” She gasped.
“Yes.” You laughed. A backstage runner ran out and handed you the bag with the gift inside. You handed it to her and watched her open it.
She pulled back the tissue paper and passed out on the couch. She pulled the customized Barrymore Canes jersey out of the bag and gaped.
“Look at this.”
“Now you can fully support the Canes.”
“Thank you for this.” She hugged you, “I’ll wear this every game.” She looked at the red and black jersey in her hands, “I think we need to take a break. I’m not done losing my mind.” You laughed.
“All right, when we get back, we have a surprise of our own for Y/N. So, stay tuned.”
-
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21 | thomas bordeleau
word count: 2.1k
a/n: yall i sobbed while writing this (i never cry) so enjoy!!
tw: drinking
inspired by 21 — gracie abrams
It was simple, but it was them. They laid in bed while they listen to the chaos outside. It was soft, light, comforting skin-to-skin contact. Thomas’ arm around your waist, his forehead on your shoulder, occasionally pressing kisses against it. His hair tickling your neck, your warm body pressed against his.
“I feel like I’m on fire,” Thomas mumbles.
Your eyes flutter open at his words, you turn around and face him. “What?” You ask confused.
He softly looks at you, his gaze examining your every feature, looking at you like you’re a goddess from another planet. “Touching you makes me feel like I’m on fire,” He repeats.
You don’t say anything, you don’t know what to say. You simply look back at him, your hand caressing his cheek.
“What’s your favorite thing in the entire world?” He asks.
You look back at him, “Why?” You giggle softly at his random question.
He shrugs, “Just want to talk,” He whispers.
You smile, your fingers coiling around his baby curls. “I don’t know,” You answer. There were an infinite amount of things in this world, you couldn’t choose your favorite, and that would be impossible.
Thomas hummed at your answer, he knew his answer. It was you. No hesitation, no thinking needed, he could live with you for the rest of his life. Just like this—in bed, nothing bothering them, the sun quietly creeping into their room. It was perfect, and that was his favorite thing in the world. You. You were the love of his life.
You watch his face, his expression as he zones out on your face. It was pure awe like you hung the stars yourself like it was you who created life and everything perfect in the world. It made you bite your tongue—the way he looked at you, it was so much awe.
“What’s your favorite thing in the entire world?” You ask back.
He looked at you with all of that awe and lied, “I don’t know either,” He shrugged.
And it was silent for a while. Thomas thought about how much he loved you, how every single thing you did was lovable, and how you were the perfect person for you.
You were thinking about how black and white the world was, how time moves and you sit there blurry-eyed. You thought about how much Thomas meant to you, how much you missed him, how you wish it could work.
Brendan and Matty came stumbling into your room, resuming everything back to normal. The three boys bickering about something, not noticing how quiet you were.
You couldn’t stay forever. You thought he would see it coming, but he never did.
_____
Your phone rings, at the same time every night, every day. You watch it ring. You laying in your bed, your phone ringing. The newfound dark and depressing atmosphere of your room. The quiet of nothing—no feelings, no emotions, no thoughts, no happiness. You numbly lay there and watch the call go through. The tears in your eyes after every night remind you that you’re a real human, and you can feel still.
After a couple of minutes of staring at your phone, you pick it up. You press the voicemail box and listen to what he said.
“Hey,” He sighs, the stress and emotion evident in his voice. “It’s me again. Calling again,” It was silent for a second as he held his breath. He felt the tears collecting again, and he didn’t want you to hear it, so he didn’t talk. “Y/N, please,” He whispered desperately, his voice being overcome with emotion. “Why are you doing this? Why? Was I not enough for you? Did I not treat you right?” He sniffled, after 2 weeks of calling you every night, he said the same thing every time. He told you about his day, he doubted what went wrong, he tried to make up excuses for your feelings, he bargained for something, anything.
He shakily sighed, “I’m in San Jose now, the guys have been welcoming to me. It’s weird not seeing you or the guys every day. I don’t really like it, but people grow up I guess.” He shrugged, picking at the bottom of the workout shorts he was wearing. “I just want my old life back,” He cried. “I want you back.”
You shut off your phone, staring at the wall in front of you. The calm before the storm. You slid your hands to cover your face as your body violently shook. Tears flow out of your eyes. Thomas’ broken voice repeats in your head, reminding you what you did, what you did to yourself. What you made him go through, you wished he blamed you instead of himself. You wished he hated you, to make things easier. To ensure that you did the right thing because he doesn’t actually love you. You’ll be the love of his life in his head, and that’s what you believed. It couldn’t be real, nobody could actually love you as he said.
And every night you went to sleep with dreams plagued with him. Your night terrorized with memories of him—beautiful, beautiful, loving memories that made you want to tear your heart out because it wasn’t real. And it would never be real again. You stayed awake some nights, you couldn’t sleep without replaying you breaking his heart. And you deserved it all.
____
It’s been three months since you guys broke up. He didn’t call you anymore, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. You didn’t have to break your heart every night by listening to him. But now you had nothing from him anymore. No connections or ties that you could pull on to bring him back. Not that you thought he would come back. Now if you spent the night crying it was your own fault, not his. You couldn’t scapegoat him anymore, you were your own destructor now.
You noticed a difference now. He wasn’t there to bring you coffee at the library anymore, you didn’t have a study buddy, and there was nobody to bother you in class anymore. You sat in class and stared at the place that Thomas would be, you stared at the right side of your bed that he always slept on. It wasn’t the same and you didn’t it ever could be.
None of the hockey boys came up and talked to you anymore. The ones still left at the campus just looked at you. Some of them glared at you, some of them saw how you were doing just as bad and left you be. It was so lonely, you and Thomas dated for 2 years. You didn’t really have friends outside of him, he was your first friend at Umich so you didn’t have anybody else.
Jade didn’t text you anymore, you were stupid if you thought she was, but she was like your own little sister and her disappearance was noticeable.
You met a group of girls at the local coffee shop and you started to hang out with them. It was dull, you missed the chaos. You missed jumping onto Briss’ back, you missed Matty yelling at you to get down, you missed Turcs trying to jump on Tommy’s back but enormously failing. You often zoned out thinking of those times. Time went by as you sat there blurry-eyed and numb.
You just stared at things now, you could barely go anywhere because it reminded you of Thomas. The class you met in, the coffee shop where you met most of the time, the sidewalk he would walk you home on, you could barely look at your phone anymore. Your entire social media was filled with his friends, seeing him smiling and playing hockey in San Jose, seeing him hang out with people that you had no clue who they were. Your lock screen was plain white because it didn’t feel right to have him after you broke his heart.
You couldn’t go three minutes without looking at something on campus and thinking of him. Every place had heart-crushingly beautiful memories with him. Even you’re family asked how he was, when you told them that you broke up with him, they didn’t ask how you were feeling. They asked: Why? Why would you break up with him? He was perfect, you’re so stupid. They were right because now the past colorful world turned into a harsh reality of black and white.
_____
You sat in your room, biting your knuckles as you stared at his open contact. He doesn’t want to hear from you. It was his night, you didn’t need to ruin it. You didn’t want to ruin it for everybody. Everybody went to San Jose for Thomas’ 21st birthday, he didn’t need a call from you ruining the mood.
You shut your eyes painfully at your thoughts. He’s out having fun don’t call him. A call from you would ruin his night. He’s moved on from you, he probably has somebody else in his life. He’s found somebody better than you, somebody that will make him happy and appreciate him. That’s not you, you won’t be the one taking pictures with him anymore, you wouldn’t be the one to celebrate with him anymore, he doesn’t want to hear from you again.
You slid down your dorm room and cried in a ball in the corner. It was all true. You would miss his 21st birthday. He was moved on without you. He doesn’t want you anymore. He’s happy without you, probably even happier.
You imagine him getting shitfaced with all of the guys who are already legal. He’s happy, he has all of his friends back, and it’s been a good season for him at SJ. He’s happy.
And that was true. He’s been happily sitting with all of his friends—his Umich ones and the ones he’s made on the Sharks team. They went to a club and partied. They’ve all had a little bit too much to drink. Thomas was drunkenly belting out every song they played. He was so happy to have a slim glimpse of his past. But the one noticeable difference to him was nobody was by his side. He couldn’t look to his right and see you smiling at him. He couldn’t drunkenly belt out a song with you. That was never happening again.
_____
“Hey Y/N,” Audrey softly greets you on the phone.
“Hey, Aud,” You greet back.
You and Audrey had remained ‘friends’ you didn’t talk that much, but she kept up with you and asked if you were okay occasionally. She was a nice person and she knew that you were doing good, so obviously she could just leave you.
“What’s up?” You ask her.
“Just wondering how you are,” She vaguely replies.
“I’m fine,” You respond suspiciously. She never called you, she always texted you. You knew something was wrong.
“Are you telling me the truth?”
You chuckle, “Yeah, Audrey I’m fine,” You kind of lie to her.
“Okay,” She sighs sounding stressed.
“Seriously Aud, what’s wrong? Just tell me.”
She was silent for a second, “He’s got a girlfriend.”
You swallow thickly, “Good for him,” You chirp trying to keep a good composure until she hangs up.
“Y/N,” She sighs.
You quickly wipe the tears escaping from your eyes, “No, that’s good. Good for him.”
“I know you’re not okay, Y/N.”
“I’m fine, Audrey,” You snap. You choke on the sobs coming up from your throat. “I’m sorry,” You sniffle, harsh breaths escaping your body. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
“I know, I know,” She softly says.
“I’m fine,” You assure her.
“Okay, okay. Call me later when you want somebody to talk to,” She says.
“Yep, I will,” I quickly say before hanging up.
You sit for a second. Blankly staring at the wall, feeling deja vu in every way possible. You start hysterically laughing as you can’t believe that this is happening. It’s over, this is the final for you two. There are no second chances, nothing left for your relationship. You don’t hysterically sob, you just sit there and let the tears drip down your face. You let no emotion show as your feel your heart being cut out.
“I’m sorry.”
You apologize for everything, you say you’re sorry for every second that Thomas hurt because of you. You whisper it to yourself every second because you can be nothing but sorry. You did this to yourself. You couldn’t stay forever, and now you wish you could’ve. Nobody did this to you but yourself. Because I was always under.
birthday surprises | connor mcdavid
word count: 1k
You wake up to somebody playing with your hair and soft kisses being pressed to your face and shoulders. You smile as you crack your eyes open and see your boyfriend. “Hi,” You whisper to him.
He smiles at you and leans in for a kiss, “Happy Birthday, my love,” He breaths onto your lips.
You wrap your arms around his torso, trying to pull him down to cuddle. He chuckles and pulls himself back up next to the bed. You flip around on your stomach, groaning.
“I’m sorry, babe, but we don’t have time to lay around today,” He says.
You turn your head to the side, so you could look at him. You quirk your eyebrow, gesturing for him to continue.
“I have a surprise for you,” He vaguely says.
A blush and smile creeps up onto your face. Even after being with Connor for 4 years, you still haven’t gotten used to his presents and surprises. “What is it?”
“I can’t tell you that yet, but it’s for later tonight.”
You keep your face neutral, but you were wondering how late he was thinking in your head.
“I can already tell what you’re thinking,” He laughs. “You can still watch the game tonight.”
Your blush darkens as you were caught red-handed. “You know me so well,” You giggle, grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Maybe it was a problem that you had to schedule everything around your hockey games, but you had been surrounded by hockey since you were a baby and that wasn’t changing. Luckily, you found Connor, who understood 100% and every time it happened fell more in love with you and your dedication to hockey.
It was later that night when the couple was walking in downtown Toronto. It was late May, the Oilers didn’t make it to the playoffs, so the couple had already gone to their off-season home in Toronto. Connor was being very suspicious about where you guys were going. But you were starting to get nervous as the Leafs game was starting in 20 minutes, and there was no way to watch it.
“Babe, just tell me what we are doing,” You groan.
He shook his head, stubbornly. “Nope, we’re almost there,” He kisses your temple. “Relax.”
You exasperatedly exhale at his secretiveness. He smiles at you, and you instantly relax at his comforting smile. You move on and decide to enjoy your birthday night with the love of your life.
10 minutes later Connor stops at your holy grail, Scotiabank Arena, your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you two stopped there. “What are we doing here?” You yell to Connor, over the loud noise of people surrounding you.
He just smiles.
“Connor, what the fuck is happening?” You question him as he pulls you towards the entrance of the arena.
He reaches for something stuffed under his hoodie. Your confusion grows as he pulls out your favorite jersey. He hands it to you and gestures to the arena and your jersey. “Happy Birthday!”
You bite your lip, trying to contain your huge smile. You went to Leafs’ games all the time, but Connor never went with you. It was almost a rule with him, but now here he was. “Really?” You ask him in disbelief.
He shyly shrugs, “It’s your birthday and I knew how much this would mean to you so,” He blushes.
You quickly put on your Morgan Rielly jersey then jump onto him with an excited hug. Connor laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Thank you so much,” You kiss his neck from where your head was situated.
He lets you go, “You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” He smirks and reaches to pull up his hoodie.
Your eyebrows shoot up as you think he’s going to take off his shirt…you wouldn’t mind that, but you felt the hundreds of people surrounding you would.
Your jaw drops as he reveals a Toronto Maple Leafs’ shirt. “What the fuck.”
“I love you very much,” He kisses you on the cheek while you still looked at him in shock.
“Is that my brothers?” You ask him, laughing. He nods, laughing too.
“I wanted this to be a special birthday for you,” He admits.
You smile at him and peck his cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Now, come on or we will miss the game,” He pulls you into a security line.
Throughout the game, nobody has recognized him. He wore his cap especially low on his face, and nobody expected Connor McDavid to be at a Leafs game, so he was in the clear. Until the intermission cameras.
Connor nudged you as a message came up on the Jumbotron. “Happy Birthday to Y/N! From the Toronto Maple Leafs Organization!” The camera came in your direction, you smiled and waved at the camera as you came up on the large screen.
It was the mistake that Connor accidentally moved towards you when the cameraman got a peek under his cap.
The camera instantly was glued to his face, and everybody around us was taking pictures. You shoved your face into Connor’s side as you giggled uncontrollably. You felt him laughing too occasionally.
“Glad you’re enjoying this,” He eventually said when everything had calmed down, and the game went back on.
You smile at him widely. “I am, thank you!” You say sarcastically. “Thank you for everything, Con. Best birthday ever.”
Your phone buzzes at a new notification from Instagram. You pick it up curiously and start burst out laughing at what’s on your phone. Connor curiously looks over your shoulder and groans at what you’re looking at.
“I will be hearing about this for the rest of my life,” He groans and sinks down into his seat.
NHL posted!
NHL Connor McDavid and his girlfriend at a Toronto Maple Leafs game. Never thought you’d see Connor in a Leafs shirt eh?
____
yourusername HAHAHAHAH oh this is good
edmontonoilers connor how could you
mcdavid97 oh god
torontomapleleafs glad he’s come to his senses
— yourusername me too
drat_29…what…
austonmatthews never thought i would see this
waiting room | mitch marner
work count: 3.1k
a/n: i did take this down and redo it, so if it sounds familiar to you that’s because it probably is :))
inspired by waiting room — phoebe bridgers
No matter how much it hurt, it was always for the better.
Your entire life there had been one constant, Mitchell Marner. He was your best friend, your crush, your right-hand man, your rock, the only person that made you, you. He was everything to you, but who were you to ask for more?
It started when you were little.
“But Mommy Mitch is playing! I have to go!” Five-year-old you whined.
Your mother sadly shook her head, “I am sorry Y/N we can’t go.”
Tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of missing your best friend’s game. “Why not?” You sniffled.
“Mommy has to go to the doctor, you are staying with the neighbors for a little bit.”
“You could drop me off at the rink and I could stay with Mitch as long as you need me to,” You fight.
Your mother shook her head, “I said no Y/N,” She said sternly. Tears welled up in your eyes. Your mom softened at the sight of them. “I am sorry baby it’s just one game.”
You sniffled and sadly nodded your head, walking away.
The next day at school you felt guilty. Mitch had gotten a goal, he didn’t know you weren’t going to be there. He said he looked everywhere for you and you were nowhere to be found. You started crying because of the guilt.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there Mitchy,” You cried.
Mitch sat there and watched you cry. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t understand why you cared so much. But nonetheless, he wrapped you in a hug and repeated, “It’s okay.”
In the next minute, you two were running around laughing because he said it was okay. Everything would be okay if Mitch thought it was.
You two did everything together. You couldn’t disappoint him again, seeing that sad face of his was carved into your brain. You couldn’t live through seeing it again. Mitch started to realize that you were his rock, he couldn’t play hockey without your hype speech. Every time he talked he looked at you to see if you thought he was funny, it was the little things that connected you two. It was enough to bond you thicker than metal. But eventually metal starts to rust, and it breaks down.
That’s when it really started. The dependency, the attachment, the heartbreak. Things were changing, and you had a hard time accepting that.
It was high school that made every day a challenge. He was popular, you were not. He had lots of friends, you didn’t. You followed him around like a lost puppy dog waiting for an ounce of his attention. He said you were his most important friend, but that wasn’t enough for you. He was your most important person, he was your earth, and you were just his pluto.
He talked to you about girls, about how much girls liked how he played hockey. He got a girlfriend. She didn’t like you, she knew how you felt about him, and she didn’t want you around him. So he wasn’t.
You came home, sat on your couch, and just cried. You didn’t move, you didn’t make a sound. The tears just dripped down. The easiest thing to do was cry. You had gotten so good at it. So much heartbreak and overthinking in your life that the only thing you were good at is getting hurt.
Your dad came home, you didn’t even notice him until he sat down next to you.
“What’s wrong sweetheart?” He asked you.
Nothing but tears continuously dropping.
“He doesn’t need me,” You hoarsely said.
Your father sighed sadly, he knew this day would come. He saw how you looked at Mitch. He saw how you did everything with the thought of Mitch in the back of your head. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” He laid his cheek on the top of your head and smoothed your hair down as you cried.
He didn’t know that. He couldn’t tell the future because it definitely wouldn’t be okay.
You started to drift off from Mitch. You didn’t want to follow him around anymore. You didn’t want to hear the laughs of people as you followed him. You accepted that things change and he didn’t want you anymore. It was for the better.
Mitch didn’t even notice you starting to drift away. He was bathing in the popularity and people wanting to be around him. He didn’t even notice that you were gone. Not until the small moments. You weren’t next to him every class, he couldn’t make eye contact with you when that one kid talked. You didn’t go to his games, he couldn’t hear you screaming every time he scored. His parents asked questions about you and he realized he didn’t know how you were doing.
He was aware of you now. He saw you walking in the halls, right past him not even looking at him. He saw you walking on the sidewalk past his house, not even looking at his house. Like they hadn’t been best friends since basically birth. Like they hadn’t been each other’s lifeline for 15 years.
It made him sad, so he followed you one night when you walked past his house. He had no idea where you were going until you turned a familiar turn, and it could only be the location you were headed towards.
When you were kids you guys went to the same location every Saturday night. There was a bench right on the river in Markham. You could see everything perfectly: the stars, the river, the beautiful night sky reflecting off of the water. The two of you would ‘sneak’ from your houses and walk to the river and your bench. You sit there for hours, either talking or in complete silence. It was just for them to be together.
“It’s us forever Mitchy,” 10-year-old you said.
A wide smile spread across Mitch’s face. He held his pinky out for you to link it to him. “Forever,” He repeated. “You’re going to be with me when I retire from the NHL as the greatest player of all time. I’m going to be there when you get thousands of awards for curing cancer.”
You smiled at his statement, “I don’t think your part is true, but mine is,” You teased him.
He frowned and shoved your shoulder, “Mean,” He grumbled.
You pushed his shoulder back, making him do the same that started a 20-minute play fight between you two.
It brought a sad smile to his face as the memories of this place came back. Coming here was the best part of his life but now those times were no longer.
He carefully sat next to you, trying not to scare you. You didn’t even acknowledge his presence. You heard him trailing after you a while ago so it didn’t surprise you.
It was silent between you two. A comforting but painful silence. Mitch didn’t know what to say, and you didn’t want to say anything to him.
There was so much history, so much love, and memories between you two that it was impossible to comprehend. Impossible to comprehend how much he meant to you and how much he could heal you will one smile. It was unhealthy and you knew it, but you would wait in his waiting room even if there was a chance he would see you.
“We’ve changed,” He broke the silence.
You didn’t do anything.
“I didn’t want us to change,” He sniffled.
You finally looked at him. He was looking at the water. His beautiful blue eyes filled with tears and the moonlight reflection. His beautiful beautiful face filled with sadness and pain. Your body is consumed by pain because you would rather die than cause Mitch sadness and pain.
“It’s for the better,” You whisper.
Mitch’s mouth open to protest, to beg for you to be friends with him again. But nothing came out, nothing at all. Just more painful silence as this was the goodbye for this soul combination.
He desperately turned to face you. You turned to him confused.
“This isn’t our end,” He whispered before grabbing your face and pulling it close to his. Your breaths caressing each other’s face. Your eyes wide as he looks between you and your lips. His bottom lip and yours barely touching as you two pant in anticipation. And his lips connect with yours.
Your lips move together in synchronization, under the moonlight. It was so perfect, so so perfect. That amazing, euphoric, longing emotion you were feeling, was exactly why it was wrong. The overwhelming feeling of satisfaction because you were finally kissing Mitch, after years of secretly loving him. The years of being reminded that you were just his best friend was carved in your mind. That’s why it was so terrible because it wasn’t real.
It was under the moonlight when you pull back painfully, and your heart broke. You laid your head on his chest and cried. He does the same because he knows what he just did. He was so desperate to make you stay with him that he did the one thing he knew you wanted. His love, his romantic love. By that one action, he knew he lost you forever.
“You can’t do this to me, Mitch,” You cry.
“I’m sorry,” He whispered.
“You can’t fucking do that to me,” You sob.
“I’m sorry,” He cried too. “I can’t do this without you, Y/N.”
“Don’t play with my feelings to get me to stay.”
“I can’t do this without you,” He repeated.
“You don’t like me. Why would you do that? Why would you play with my feelings like that, Mitch?” You sobbed in his chest, his arm coming around your body, to comfort you.
And you two sat like that for an hour. Both of you crying in each other’s embrace. Crying in each other’s mistakes because nobody can heal you and comfort you more than the person that hurt you.
Eventually, You both stopped crying. You just sat there, still in each other’s embrace when he whispered. “I’m leaving.”
You pulled yourself up and looked him in the eyes, “What?” You croaked.
“Next month I am playing for the London Knights.”
And just like that, your eyes started to welled up again. He was moving on without you. He accomplished his dream without you, just like your worst nightmare. No matter what you knew that whatever happened to you, he would be just fine, maybe even better. That’s something you had accepted during your 'break,’ he would still flourish without you. The same couldn’t be said in the opposite way though.
You reached up and placed your hand on his cheek, smiling sadly at him. “You’re making your dreams come true, Mitch.” You said as a tear dripped down your face. “I’ll always be supporting you, even when you can’t see me.”
He nodded while wiping his face from any leftover tears. “Same for me, Y/N.” He tucked loose hair behind your ear and stared into your eyes. “I’ll always be there for you.”
And that was true. They supported each other from a distance. He called you when the Knights won the M-Cup. You called him when you got accepted to your dream school. He called you when he got the call from the Leafs. You called him when you got accepted to med school. They supported each other from a distance, and that was for the better.
They saw each other for the first time in 5 years when you got an invitation in the mail.
You came home, to your empty sad home, checked the mail, and broke down then you saw the last piece of mail in the pile. The one thing you spent the last 5 years dreading. The thing that you had spent your entire life worrying about.
You never had a significant other, you could never move past the blue eyes boy from the past. Nobody could be as good as him because he was your everything. Even after all of these years.
You accepted the invitation. More to get closure, to see what his life was like, to see how much better he was without you.
And you did that. You wore a pretty dress, but not an over-the-top dress, one that fits right with your personality. You did your makeup, multiple times due to how much you cried. You needed to do this for yourself.
You sat towards the back of the reception. You recognized people you saw on his Instagram, you tried to figure out how they fit into his life. Because you would never truely know what anybody meant to him anymore. Your invitation could have been a mistake, and he secretly hated you all this time, but you didn’t know. Because you didn’t know him anymore, and whatever happened to you, you knew he would be fine anyway.
He seemed like the same person. You watched him from afar, too scared to actually go and talk to him. He looked at his bride just like he looked at you on that day by the river. He interacted with people the same way. There were his favorite snacks at the wedding, you smiled as you saw them. You could barely even look at them without gagging. You ate so much of those because of him.
You were smiling at the countless memories when you heard something behind you.
“Y/N,” Mitch breathed out.
You turned around with a smile on your face. And there he was, Mitchell Marner.
“Hey Mitch,” You smiled at him and wrapped your arms around him. He did the same to you.
You pulled back from him.
“It’s good to see you,” You said.
“Yeah, yeah you too,” He stammered. “I didn’t think you would come.”
“I’m always here for you,” You smiled.
“Yeah,” He whispered while looking at you.
Another person comes up behind Mitch and an arm is wrapped around his waist. He looks back and sees his wife. He smiles at her but his chest hurts a little bit.
“Hi,” She softly says to him.
“Hey,” He says back.
She looks at you and realized that you were talking to Mitch. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice you were talking.” She says.
You laugh and wave your hand. “You’re fine. I wanted to meet the person stuck with this guy over here,” You joke, gesturing to Mitch. You hear him make a sound of offense.
She smiles and holds out her hand, “Hi, I’m Steph,” She says nicely.
“Hi I’m-,” You start but she cuts you off.
“Y/N, yeah I know. Every single baby picture of Mitch has you in it too, so I know who you are,” She laughs.
You’re cheeks heat up at that. “Oh, sorry about that,” You sheepishly say.
She laughs, “It’s fine, you were a very cute baby.”
You laugh with her.
Another person approaches us and you recognize him as the best man.
“What’s going on over here?” Auston asks as he heard laughter coming from the area.
Mitch puts his arm over Auston’s shoulder, “Matts, this is Y/N my childhood best friend,” He says.
Your smile dims at the use of childhood best friend. But nonetheless, keep the act up and hand out your hand for him to shake.
His smile lifts, “So you’re Y/N? I’ve heard a lot about you in the past years. Great to finally meet you!”
“You too,” I say nicely, even though Mitch has never mentioned him.
“You’re a doctor eh?” Auston asks you.
You nod with a smile.
“Yeah, buddy boy over here,” He slapped Mitch on the back. “Has a subscription to Doctor Weekly to keep up with all of your accomplishments.”
You laugh at Mitch’s red face when all you wanted to do was cry in the corner. It’s too late, it’s too late, you continuously remind yourself. He’s moved on from you and all of your issues. He doesn’t want you back, Y/N.
“I could make a list if you wanted, Mitch. You got a poster board? I need the space,” You joke.
Auston and Steph burst out laughing at your attempt at a joke.
Auston nudges Mitch, “Why’d you keep this one hidden from us?”
Mitch looks at you dead in the eyes and says, “Nobody deserves her.”
It’s for the better. It’s for the better. It’s for the better.
Mitch was sitting at the bench after his retirement announcement.
“Well, I retired. Don’t know if I retired as greatest of all time, but maybe closest,” He sadly joked.
He closed his eyes as the tears trickled down his face. Time flew by and it flew by in the worst way possible.
You were changing history and doing your life’s dream when you found out that you had cancer. The thing you were dedicating your life to getting rid of, you got. The world was in mourn when the revolutionary Y/N Y/L/N died from cancer at the age of 48.
Mitch’s hands caressed the markings of your names on the bench. The first night you two found the bench you decided to mark it as your bench. Leaving the past memory of happiness and childhood love to the future memory of heartbreak and wrong timing.
Your headstone is right next to the bench on the river. Where the happiest part of your life occurred. You had two headstones, one in D.C where you did your life’s work, and one here by the river.
Distance noise started to get close and Mitch looked up and smiled. Little footsteps coming at a fast pace towards her dad. She launched herself into his lap and laid her head on his chest.
“Hi daddy,” She happily greeted her father.
“Hi Y/N,” He kissed his daughter’s head, closed his eyes, and enjoyed hugging his daughter.
They both looked at the headstone of the person that meant a lot to them.
One who she was named after, and heard amazing stories about every day.
And the other looking at the headstone of the love of his life.
He was in her waiting room now. Waiting for whatever chance he could see her again.
memories | nathan mackinnon
word count: 1.2k
tw: swearing
inspired by memories — conan gray
Time was a good thing for you. It had been a couple of months since you and Nate broke up, you didn’t sob uncontrollably, you didn’t watch his games and just start crying anymore. You could actually function as a human being without him now. Time had been a healthy thing for you.
You could look through your camera roll now, seeing all the memories with him. You even smiled when you looked at them—remembering all of the good times between you two. A picture of you two laughing with each other at your one-year anniversary dinner. Nate took you to one of your favorite restaurants that night and JT happened to be there too. He took a picture of you two and sent it to Nate to scare him. You two were in your own world of love and happiness, with no other thoughts but each other. A month ago, you couldn’t look at it—you couldn’t bear to see how he used to look at you, so lovingly. It hurt so much because it was a reminder of how he didn’t look at you like that anymore. Now, you look at it as a reminder that you had good times with him, but it needed to end.
A knock at your door made you exit your mind. It was pouring rain outside and you didn’t expect anybody. You peeked out of the window next to your door, but you don’t see anything. You open the door and suddenly time hadn’t been good to you. Nothing had healed and you felt like crying all over again when you saw those familiar blue eyes.
“Can we talk?” He whispers.
You were sure that he didn’t just say that, that you were dreaming about him being here. But you’re not dreaming, he’s standing there, soaking wet, looking sad and defeated because he crawled his way back to your house.
“Yeah,” You whisper so quietly that you’re not sure you even said anything. It’s when he starts to walk forward that you realize you did actually say yes to him. But what was new about that, you could never say no to him, especially when he was standing on your porch looking like a wet dog.
He walked into your house, something you never thought you would see again. Something you promised yourself that you would never see again. But here you were, letting him walk right in because you were so enamored by him.
Please don’t ruin this for me. Please don’t make this harder than it already is. I’m trying to get over this, the rational part of yourself thought as you watched him walk in like he still was welcome here.
“What are you doing here, Nate?” You whispered, wrapping your arms around your body.
“What happened between us?” He slurred.
“Are you drunk, Nate?” You asked him in disbelief.
He ignored your question, “Answer my question,” He demanded.
You closed your eyes, you knew exactly how this night was going to go. Just like it did every time, history repeats itself over and over.
“What happened, Y/N?” He asked, but a little bit sharper in tone.
Your jaw clenched, history repeated itself over and over. “Why are you doing this?”
“I just want you to explain why you think I did something wrong?”
You sighed, why was he doing this, you repeated in your mind. “Move on, Nathan, there’s no point in going back into the past,” You spoke equally as sharp as him.
“Just explain to me why you blamed us breaking up on me? How was it my fault?” He victimized himself.
You rubbed your forehead with your hands, tears starting to prickle in your eyes. You wanted him to leave, you wanted to go back to the couch and go through the happier times of your relationship. You wanted Nathan to stay in your memories, to stay in the past.
“God just fucking tell me Y/N!” He yelled at you, making you flinch.
“This,” You finally snapped at him. “This is why we fucking broke up, Nathan. This is how our nights always ended, you fucking yelling at me. You traumatized me, Nathan, don’t even try to victimize yourself,” You yelled back at him. “I want to move on, I want you to stay in the past, but you keep coming back and hurting me.”
The hockey player sat in silence, he didn’t yell back at you, he didn’t say anything back to you.
“I wish you would stay in my memories. To stay in the past where we can both move on.” You calmed down after a couple of moments of silence. “We can’t keep doing this,” You sighed, finally letting your frustrated tears escape. You bury your head in your hands while you silently cry. “I can’t keep doing this.”
Nathan stumbles over to where you were sitting and wraps his arms around you. You turn around and bury your face into his chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t deserve you,” He thickly whispered, guiding you over to the couch and cuddling up against you.
“But here we are,” You bitterly chuckle. Here you were, the same end result every time. Him comforting you after he was the one who hurt you. After all, he was the only person who could comfort you, even if he was the one who hurt you.
You fall asleep with dried tears on your face, he falls asleep with the one person he loves more than anything, but can’t stop hurting. History repeats itself over and over. The same thing every single time—he yells and hurts you, you cry, he comforts you, you two break up, then two months later you welcome him back into your life and heart. It was hard to see an end when the beginning kept coming up.
No matter how hard you try not to make him mad, as hard as he tries to learn how to love you, the ending never changes. It will always end in heartbreak and destruction, but you keep letting him come back. And each time he came back, you would welcome him for as long as he wanted. Because you two could never let go of each other, no matter what you did to each other.
As long as he came back, you let him put his coat down and get comfortable. You let him infest himself back into your space, heart, and mind. The cologne that he bought when you were fighting makes its way back into your sheets. The memories burn your brain, making you regret every decision you make about him. But it was just another reminder of how you let him back each and every time.
You knew in the future you would be back on the floor, sobbing crying, because he took his frustrations out on you. You knew in the future that he would wrap his arms around you and apologize. You knew in the future you would be blankly staring at the wall, dried tears on your face and a hoarse voice.
And all you could say was, “I wish that you would stay in my memories.”
what did you just do to me? | luke hughes
i saw this tiktok and i needed to do it with luke :))) lolz this is bad but idc
word count:1.4k
‘Hurry up’ You texted Luke as you, Thomas, and Brendan were sitting in the car waiting for him. Everybody was hanging out, so you guys all volunteered to get food. You were shifting through your purse when you came across your Too Faced Lip Injection Extreme. You watched Luke walk out of the house with a smirk.
While you were putting on the lip gloss, Luke got into the car. “Sorry, I was getting everybody’s orders,” He mumbled, putting his phone into his pocket.
“’S cool,” You murmured, concentrating on putting a thick layer of the gloss, so it transfers easily to his lips.
He glared at you, you just sent him a text saying hurry up and now 'it’s cool.’
You noticed his glare and pouted. You reached over the center console to give him a kiss.
He pulled back from you, “You’ve got lipstick on, I don’t want that,” He gestured t your lips.
You shook your head, “It’s not lipstick, it’s chapstick.”
He cringed, he didn’t want that on his lips either. But you were giving him a sad face, so he had to.
He spared a glance at Bren and Thom in the back, he leaned in when he saw they were in their own worlds.
You pressed your lips against his, making sure to move your lips a little bit so the gloss could really get on his lips. He pulled back with a weird look on his face, he could feel you moving your lips weirdly.
“Babe, your lips are so dry, you need this,” You make up the quick excuse and gesture to him for another kiss.
He rubs his lips together, trying to see if you were right. Agreeing with you, he leans back in for another kiss, letting you transfer the 'chapstick’ to his lips.
Brendan glances up from his phone when he noticed you two being unusually quiet. He groans and covers his and Thomas’ eyes from the sight of you two kissing, “Really guys? We just want food.”
You two pulled apart, “Sorry, Luke needed chapstick,” You tell them shrugging, trying to keep your cool and not laugh.
Brendan shook his head, disappointedly. “Can’t even put on his own chapstick,” He sighed.
“She offered,” Luke mumbled, defending himself.
He scrunched his face up in a weird way, he started to rub his lips together. He saw you trying not to laugh from the corner of his eyes, he looked at you with an accusatory gaze.
“What did you do?” He questioned you. He shouldn’t be surprised, you always loved playing with people.
“What do you mean?” You ask innocently.
“What did you do to me?” He asked, pulling down the car mirror as his lips felt weird. He looked closer at his lips and they looked pink and glossy. “You said this was chapstick! This is lipstick, Y/N!”
“It’s chapstick, you’re just being dramatic,” You wave him off.
“Y/N, what did you do? My lips are tingling,” He whined. “It’s all over my lips,” He cringed looking in the mirror, the skin surrounding his lips was growing pink and tingly too.
“Do your lips usually tingle with chapstick?” You ask him, gaslighting the shit out of him.
“No, they don’t. What did you do to me?”
Your body silently shakes with laughter as he freaks out about his lips. “I didn’t do anything,” You practically wheeze.
He looks at you with a petrified expression that makes you laugh harder. “My lips are tingling,” He emphasizes every word. “What are you putting on? The tickalator 3000?!” He says making you burst out laughing, not being able to control it anymore.
Thomas and Brendan watch this whole interaction from the back of the car, their eyes silently moving between you two. You laughing to the point of tears and Luke freaking out about to cry.
“What the hell did you put on my lips!” Luke exclaimed, staring at the mirror again watching his lips. He quickly wiped it off when his lips started to turn red. “What is this?”
“I just had lipgloss on!” You tell him.
His head snapped towards you, “Lipgloss!? I thought you said it was chapstick! I don’t want lipgloss!”
Again you start cracking up when he starts feverishly wiping his lips with his hoodie sleeve. “You’re lips aren’t going to fall off, Luke! Calm down!”
“I don’t know that, I don’t know what you did to me! My lips could fall off!”
You reach into the side holder where you put the lipgloss and hold it out for him. He snatches it out of your hand and looks at it. He squints his eyes to read the label, but his face drops when he reads all of it.
“Lip Injection!” He exclaims. “Extreme!” He slowly looks up at you with a horrified facial expression. He looks at you, praying that you didn’t just put lip injections on his lips, praying that you’re just joking and that it was chapstick.
“What did you do to me?” He whispered, holding up his hand to touch his red lips. You don’t even look at him because you’re laughing so much.
“Oh god,” He touches his lips and realizes they are much bigger than they usually feel. He quickly opens the door of the car and practically flies out of the car. “I am not getting big lips,” He yells as he’s running.
You, Brendan, and Thomas all burst out into deeper laughter as you guys watch Luke sprint into the house.
Luke busts open the door and sprints into the kitchen. He grabs the sponge sitting next to the sink and violently starts scrubbing his lips.
Everybody in the house walks to the kitchen at the sudden noise. They all stop at the sight of Luke practically scrubbing his entire face off.
“Luke? What are you doing?” Nick questions him.
Luke looks at them, but doesn’t stop scrubbing, “Y/N…bad lipgloss…” Was all they could make out. They all stare at him blankly, all in absolute confusion because they didn’t know what the fuck was going on.
Five minutes later, Nick comes out of the house and gets into the car. You all look at him confused, he wasn’t supposed to come with you guys.
He sighs as he sees your questionable gaze, “Luke refused to come back out,” He said.
You snort but settle back into your seat as Nick starts pulling out of the driveway.
“Hey Nick,” Brendan pipes up. “Can you hand me something?”
Nick nods, looking at Brendan through the rearview mirror. “What?” He asks Brendan.
Brendan awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, “You’re probably sitting on it.”
Nick’s eyebrows furrowed, but he picks his body up to reach under him. He pulls out the small plastic tube of lipgloss. “Is this what you wanted?” He asked Brendan.
Brendan nods excitedly and grabs the lipgloss out of Nick’s hand.
He opens the gloss and reluctantly starts putting it on his lips. You and Thomas looking at him, questionably and in anticipation, for his reaction. He applies the gloss and simply sits there while waiting for anything to happen. Thomas curiously takes the gloss out of Bren’s hand and looks at it. He looks at Bren, who was not having a reaction so far, and opens the tube up and puts some on.
“Hm, smells weird,” Thomas mumbles.
“Well, yeah it’s chemicals,” You say.
Brendan scoffs, “That’s a nice thing to say after we both put it on.”
In surrender, you hold your hands up, “You saw what it did to Luke.”
“No, we didn’t. He was flailing around everywhere so we couldn’t see anything.”
“Oh, it’s starting to tingle,” Brendan gasps.
“Yeah, feels weird,” Thomas rubs his lips together.
“Oh god, it’s really tingling,” Brendan starts to fan his lips. You snicker at their facial expressions. You put this on all the time, so you were used to it, but watching them was funny.
“It feels I’m having surgery on my lips…but from the inside,” Thom says.
“Makes 100% sense, Thom,” You sarcastically say.
Whenever you guys pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot Nick snatched the lipgloss out of Thomas’ hand. “You guys made me curious,” He said before applying the product too.
Later, all of you walked back into the house with big, red lips. Luke, on the couch, shakes his head. His lips still red, not from the lipgloss, but from his excessive scrubbing after.
“I don’t care what you guys think, I look good,” Brendan puckers out his lips and poses with a hand on his hip and a peace sign.
dreamer (just like you) - andré burakovsky
summary: on midsommar, if you put seven flowers under your pillow while you sleep you’re supposed to dream of the person going to marry (or; demi writes yet another summer friends-to-lovers fic)
word count: 2,334
note:set Midsommar 2021 on account of the Avs making it to the Finals this year. its just ticked over to the 25th here in Australia so have fun! thanks to @danglesnipecellyand@matthewtkachuk as always
For a whole week the only thing on the forecast had been rain. Pathetic rain, too. The kind that’s just enough to make hair go frizzy but not enough to just wet it completely.
Nova didn’t want to think about any sort of symbolism associated with the sun coming out the hour André’s plane landed. Especially when the flight had been delayed by so long that the planets aligned just so he could arrive when there was a break in the clouds.
There was still uncertainty around whether he’d come visit her that day. His movements changed every year, dependent on a number of things that Nova had never figured out—sometimes he went straight to his parents and didn’t leave for 24 hours, other times he went straight to whichever house he’d booked for the summer. And then there were the times he had headed straight to her parents’ house right away.
No matter where he ended up, the sun would stay out the entire day, Nova was sure of it, and it would bring much hope for the people religiously watching the forecast for Midsommar.
Early the next morning, Nova was woken by her phone buzzing against her mattress. She reached for it, panicked that she’d forgotten about a meeting or that she was about to be told some horrible news because there was no other reason for somebody to be calling her before nine.
“Rise and shine!” André shouted, causing Nova to rip her phone from her ear and cringe away from it. “Entertain me!”
Nova managed to mumble out, “Find anyone else in Malmo to entertain you.”
“I’m walking over now. Get out of bed.”
Nova groaned but relented and hung up on him immediately so she could at least shower before she saw him. André had seen her in various less than presentable states, so she didn’t care if he saw her when she’d just woken up. She did care if anybody saw her after she’d gone three days without showering because she’d been trying to get through a job.
Her shower and skin care routine were much shorter than normal, though it was clear that her body appreciated any sort of attention it was getting. Even still, André was already sitting on her bed, having hastily and haphazardly folded the duvet at the end of the mattress, when she walked into the bedroom in her terrycloth robe.
“I don’t think this room has changed since high school,” he said, reaching out to the candle on her bedside table. He made a pleased sound as he smelt it.
“You can talk to my parents about that; I only come back for four weeks a year.”
“It’s like a shrine.”
Nova rolled her eyes and opened her chest of drawers. As she stared inside them, she said, “A shrine to the me they wanted and not the one they got.”
André hummed, nobody who knew Nova would disagree with that statement.
Nova dressed with him in the room, slipping her underwear on underneath her robe followed by a pair of shorts. She had no shame in removing the robe, then, and pulling a shirt on.
“Are you buying me breakfast?”
He smiled at her when she turned around, even as he huffed and made a big deal about always being the one to buy them anything when they went out.
The weather had, as Nova predicted, remained perfect for Midsommar.
Nova woke to sun breaking through her poorly shut curtains and the weather app said it would reach twenty degrees, so it was perfect.
They were headed to the Burakovsky’s property, like usual; everyone in Malmö was a creature of habit so plans rarely changed from year to year.
Nova put on a white dress that would undoubtedly become see-through as the day progressed and the kid found water guns, so she’d also put on her nude-coloured underwear because over the years she’d learnt that her white underwear would also go see-through.
Before doing anything else when they arrived, Nova and her mother made a beeline for the kitchen where she knew Pernilla was sure to be slaving away over food despite the fact that there was a well-organised spreadsheet of what everyone was supposed to bring—like everything else, it rarely changed.
“Älskling,” Pernilla said, sweeping the dish from Nova’s hands and all but pushing her out of the kitchen, “I’m nearly done here. Go out the back and I’ll be out in just a minute.”
“Promise?” Nova asked, her expression sceptical.
“Go.”
Nova was shooed out with no room allowed for an argument, especially when her own mother joined in the shooing.
André was nowhere to be found amongst the crowd gathered in the backyard, he was probably going to be late like he always was, so Nova made her way to a group of their friends from high school.
Yet another thing that hadn’t changed, was the realisation that Nova was the only one of her high school friends not married. Her friends in Stockholm didn’t result in the same thoughts running through her mind.
“This year will be the year, Nova,” Emilie said, her hand cradling her heavily pregnant stomach. Nova didn’t know whether it was intentional or habit. “We’ll get you married before the year is out.”
“Yeah? You’re going to magic a man out of thin air for me?”
“No need, the perfect catch has just walked in.”
Nova huffed, her mouth pursed, and she stared at Emilie for long enough to express her displeasure before she’d even turned around. When she did turn around, she wish she’d stared longer.
André Burakovsky had walked into the backyard, his head held high as he greeted everyone.
Nova lost her voice, no matter how much she wanted to snap back at Emilie, because all she could think about was André. He looked ridiculous with an unsuccessful beard, a SnapBack and being loud enough to command everyone’s attention.
He saw the group of them, threw his hands into the air and started shouting enthusiastically. Nova raised her hand in an almost imperceptible wave and then turned to glare at Emilie.
“What are we talking about over here?” André asked, his arm dropping over her shoulders with a casualness that felt all too familiar.
“Nothing,” Nova said hastily, though it didn’t matter.
“Before next summer we’re going to get Nova a husband,” Emilie answered.
“If you think Nova will marry someone she’s known less than twelve months, you don’t know her that well,” André said, rustling Nova gently. “Besides, she’s gotta get to America so she can marry Chris Evans.”
“Oh, shut up, André.”
“Okej, okej.”
He left, the weight of his arm lifting off her shoulders was not as comfortable as she’d expected, and she took a deep breath so she wouldn’t pull him back.
The conversation continued around her, still about her love life but the jokes about André ceased. Everyone was due for one joke about André at Nova’s expense before moving on and the conversation that followed was always about her life in general because she lived away from them all.
With the sun high in the sky and stomachs filled with home cooked meals, Nova joined the younger girls who had started the process of making flower crowns. They’d already done the hard work of gathering suitable flowers, had been searching for a day or two judging from the size of the pile, so Nova’s self-appointed job was to make sure they knew what they were doing.
“Want to make one for me?” André asked, sitting down on the ground beside Nova.
“You should learn this year,” Nova said, pushing a pile of flowers in front of him.
André rifled through the flowers, clearly having no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. Nova took pity on him almost immediately, picking up the wire. She pushed up onto her knees with the wire and a pair of scissors and moved closer to him.
She told him to stay still as she meticulously measured his head with the wire. There was nothing untoward about it, except that André’s warm breath was brushing across her clavicle despite her being beside him because she’d told him to hold still as he was facing her.
“They look so hard.”
“Hockey is hard. Flower crowns are not.”
As it turned out, flower crowns were harder for André than Nova expected, his fingers not quite nimble enough to put the stems where he wanted them and his patience not quite thick as once thought.
Noticing that he was very much struggling and that his frustration was resulting in a very painful looking tension in his face and shoulders, Nova held her flower crown out to him and gestured for him to hand his over.
“That bad?” he asked, a self-deprecating laugh escaping him.
“I don’t want to be here all day.”
He conceded without protest. She ignored the gentle brush of their fingers for her own sanity.
By the time the sun set, and the drinks were gone, people were getting ready to leave. Nova’s parents had long since left, so Emilie was driving Nova home. Emilie was also driving André home because he was staying so near and insisted he could walk from Nova’s.
He walked Nova to her front door, both wrong hands over their mouths to stifle their drunken laughter. Nova was swaying in the door frame, struggling with her keys, when André tapped her on the shoulder.
“For your pillow,” André said, holding out a small bouquet of flowers.
Nova wasn’t sure if it counted if the kids had picked the flowers instead of her, though she wasn’t particularly sure it mattered. She was all about Midsommar traditions, believing in the magical and spiritual properties they all contained; it was just getting exhausting following them so meticulously when they weren’t bringing her any benefit.
“Thank you, André.”
Barely an hour had passed between Nova waking up and André being in her parents’ house. It was amazing to her that, even after nearly a decade since they should have reasonably expected him to show up without notice, they seemed to just accept that he was there.
She could hear their chatter in the kitchen, could hear her father extending an invitation to join them on their walk and André’s polite decline.
He wouldn’t come in to wake her, Nova knew that, so she allowed herself some extra time to mull over yet another Midsommar dream featuring André Burakovsky.
Throughout the year Nova didn’t dream with any regularity and, if she did, it was never about anybody but herself. Whether she had forgotten an assignment, or if the brakes in her car had suddenly stopped working, there was no dream as consistent as the dream-life she’d built with Midsommar-Night’s-Dream-André.
The coffee machine spluttered to life and Nova to it as her queue to get out of bed. She pulled on a shirt as she was walking out her door and mumbled a greeting to André when she reached the kitchen.
He smiled at her over his shoulder, though his attention hardly left the coffee machine until two cups were made and one was placed down onto the table where Nova was sitting.
“Who’d you dream about? Was it Chris Evans again?”
Nova laughed, coffee spluttering out of her mouth. She failed to catch it in her hand, so she was left staring up at André with scalding coffee down her chin and on her shirt.
“I’ve never dreamt about Chris Evans.”
The furrow of André’s brow was instant, and he asked, confused, “You’ve been lying to me?”
“I never told you it was him, you decided that.”
“Why haven’t you told me then?”
Nova shrugged, pulling one knee up to her chest so she could hug it comfortingly, “Because it always seemed so stupid, and there was no way it was ever actually going to happen.”
André, across from her, trailed his eyes over her bare leg, remaining silent for a long moment.
“You always tell everyone else how important it is.”
“I’ve been dreaming about you for half my life and that never seemed real. Like I said, it’s stupid.”
André stared at Nova. Nova stared back. Both were frozen in shock, neither expecting that to be what fell from her mouth. She planned both feet firmly on the kitchen tiles, grabbing her mostly full mug as she stood hastily.
“I’m going to have a shower.”
“Nova.”
“I won’t be long,” she said sweetly.
That was a lie. Nova went about her entire skincare routine, taking her time as she did it, as she thought over and over about how she would get out of her admission without going against the universally known truth that she took Midsommar dreams as gospel.
André was, perhaps unsurprisingly, sitting up against Nova’s headboard. He didn’t say a word as she dressed by shimmying underwear underneath her robe and then taking a sundress from her closet—it felt drastically different to be doing so with André in the room now that he knew how she felt.
“What if I told you I’ve been dreaming about you?” he said when she was standing at the end of the bed.
She scoffed, “You don’t even believe in it.”
“Not just last night, or on Midsommar, Nova,” he already sounded frustrated. “During the year, you’re just there whenever I go to sleep.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“This isn’t going anywhere if you repeat my questions.”
He was amused at least, by her petulance, and the fiendish smile on her face made Nova crack her own.
“Would you move to America with me?”
“Probably,” she answered without hesitation. “Is that really the only reason you never said anything?”
“We’re friends, Nova, and that’s fine for me. If there’s a chance for me here, though, I want to take it.”
“Yeah? You’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”
“I’ve got a lot of time to make up for?” he asked, incredulously, through laughter. “Not sure how this ended up being all my fault.”
“We’ve got time to make up,” she amended, then looked him right in the eye. “Are we going to start now?”
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