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a/n: the off campus obsession grabbed me by the throat and hasn't let me go yet so here's the john logan fic that's been holding me over since i watched the show last week :)
word count: 4.2k
synopsis: when your car goes to shit you ask everyone you know if they know a good mechanic and end up meeting one with a smile that you can't get out of your head
~~~
You had been able to ignore the clunking sound in your car for the past two weeks by gradually turning up the volume on the radio until your eardrums were on the verge of bleeding. You knew that you had no choice but to get it looked at when the steam appeared from beneath the hood when you had started it up this morning. Terrified to drive it, you had taken the bus to campus since your roommates had already left for the day. On campus you asked everyone you knew if they knew a good mechanic who could come out to look at it.
“The Logan’s place isn’t too far from campus and shouldn’t cost too much. You could always ask if they could send someone to check it out if you don’t want to risk driving it,” Allie suggested when you had caught up to her in between classes.
“Oh perfect, do you have their number?” Allie swiped and typed a few things on her phone before showing it to you, a phone number displayed. You tapped it into your phone’s keypad, mouthing a thank you to her, and walking a few steps away to make the call.
“Logan & Sons, how can we help you?” a woman’s voice crackled through the speaker.
“Hi, um, there seems to be something wrong with my car. There was some clunking for a while and then it started smoking this morning when I started it, so I was wondering if you could maybe send someone out to come check it? I could drive it in too, it’s just, y’know, the smoking part.”
“Yeah, definitely don’t try to drive it right now. We can send someone over at around four, does that work?”
“That’s perfect, thanks so much.”
After your last class, you caught the bus back to the house you shared with your roommates, making it back just in time to meet the pickup truck that pulled up in front of the house. A tall, brown-haired guy with big, dark eyes hopped down and walked around the front of the truck to meet you on the sidewalk.
“Are you the one who called about a smoking car?” Up close he was even cuter than you’d originally thought. You really hoped you weren’t blushing.
“Yeah, that’s me. I’m guessing you’re here to take a look at it?”
“Right on.”
“It’s the one right behind you.” You gestured to the slightly rusty and slightly beat up grey hatchback that he had just parked in front of. He turned and gave out a low whistle as he took it in. It wasn’t necessarily a sight for sore eyes, but it had certainly seen better days, most of which you hadn’t even seen since you’d bought it used two weeks before you came out to Briar for your freshman year.
He gave it a walk around, tracing parts of it with his left hand as he looked it over.
“How long you had this thing?” He looked to you as he asked.
“Three years now. I bought it used.” He nodded along.
“It’s definitely been used, you could say that again.” He snatched a ratty looking rag from the back of his truck and clutched it in his right hand as he popped the hood open. A cloud of smoke appeared as soon as he did so, causing the both of you to cough.
“Looks like an engine problem. It’ll have to come into the shop so we can look at it there.” He shut the hood, the rest of the car creaking as he did so.
“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, already tallying up how much this would end up costing you. Even with the rising bus rates it would probably still be cheaper than maintaining this piece of junk. The guy looked at you, appearing to study your face.
“I can drive it to the shop for you, if you want. It’s not too far and it should hold up,” he suggested, catching you off guard with the offer.
“Is it even safe to drive at all?”
“Probably not, but I’d rather drive it than have it blow up with you in it.”
“How likely is it to blow up?”
“Three percent. Maybe five.”
“And what’s your history with luck?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’d feel really bad.”
“About watching me blow up?”
“Yeah, you probably have a lot to live for, I’d hate to be an accomplice to your life coming to an early end.”
“And I’d feel even worse if I had to watch a pretty girl blow up in her car right in front of me just because she didn’t want it to be me in that car.” You smiled and looked away at the compliment. “It’s a five minute drive. I can manage.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair as you looked up to see him opening the driver’s side door and begin to climb in. Before you knew it, you were climbing into the passenger seat beside him. He looked at you with what you admitted to yourself was a really cute smile as he clicked his seatbelt into place.
“Are we making a suicide pact here?”
“Hopefully not,” you sighed, fishing something out of your backpack on your lap. “But, you probably need these,” the keys to the car dangled from your hand.
“Actually no, those are irrelevant,” he deadpanned, taking them from you and turning them in the ignition. You held your breath as the engine coughed to life, more smoke leaking from under the hood. You clutched the ‘holy-shit’ handle as if it might actually save you if the car were to blow up, which was seeming like more and more of a possibility.
“Are you sure this is safe?” You couldn’t tear your eyes from the gray smoke coming from the front of the car, as he began to reverse out of the spot.
“It’ll make it to the shop.”
“You didn’t actually answer the question.” He glanced over at you as he shifted the car to drive.
“What? You don’t trust the complete stranger you just met five minutes ago?”
“Can’t say I do, stranger.” He let out a short laugh as he pulled onto the street, the car so far staying together.
“So, do you go to Briar?” he asked moments later as he pulled up to the stop sign at the end of your street.
“Yeah, I’m a junior,” you replied, gripping the holy-shit handle even tighter as he made a left turn.
“No shit, me too. What’s your major?”
“English. You?”
“Business.”
“Really?” He looked over at you momentarily, a smile back on his face.
“Yeah, is that surprising?”
“Kinda. You don’t seem like a business guy.”
“Must be hard to figure out someone’s whole life path in less than fifteen minutes.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, letting you know that he was joking.
“Even harder, when I don’t know their name.”
“It’s John.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, which caused him to look at you with a smirk.
“Okay, business makes sense for you now.”
“Oh okay, English major and what’s yours?” You told him your name and he sighed.
“Yeah, I can’t say that I know what would qualify as an English major’s name anyways,” he replied, which made you laugh again. “Do you do anything outside of school?”
“I work at the bookstore in town.”
“You like it there?”
“Yeah, it’s great. Do you like working at Logan & Sons?”
“Well, I kinda have to, considering I’m one of the sons.”
“Ah, so you’re a nepo baby.” John let out a low laugh.
“Oh yeah. Working at the middle class mechanics shop my dad opened thirty years ago has really gotten me places.”
“Then we’re in the same boat, ‘cause going with my mom to her salon job when she couldn’t afford a sitter has gotten us to the same place.”
“Working middle class jobs that our far more richer classmates will never have to work because they can afford to go to our school without a full-ride scholarship?”
“Exactly!” You both laughed. You were surprised to find that you were already pulling into the Logan & Sons yard. John killed the engine, taking the keys out of the ignition and presented them to you in the palm of his hand.
“See? Made it safe and sound.” You took the keys from his hand, a small shock passing between the two of you as your fingers lightly grazed. “You can hang out at the desk if you want while I take a look. It shouldn’t take too long to diagnose her.” You tugged your backpack out behind you, figuring that you could get some homework done while you waited. You followed John around to the desk at the back of the shop and took a seat on the stool there while he rifled through a few drawers, pulling out some miscellaneous tools.
You tried really hard to focus on the homework you’d pulled from your backpack, but your eyes kept flicking towards the guy hunched over the front of your car. His arms flexed as he fiddled around within the car, causing you to put in real effort to drag your eyes away from them whenever he turned to grab a new tool. You had just done so when he fully stood, closed the hood and walked back towards you.
“So good news,” he started, wiping his hands on a rag he had procured from somewhere. “I can fix her up. Bad news is I’ll need a few days to do it.” You nodded along, internally crying at how much your car’s stay at the shop would probably end up costing you.
“Great, thanks.” You stood, beginning to pack your backpack and mentally trying to figure out when the next bus would be.
“I can give you a ride back to your place.” John announced, tapping his hands on the desk.
“Oh, that’s okay. You’ve already done more than enough for me, honestly,” you waved him off, not wanting to take up any more of his time.
“I actually need to grab my truck,” he said with a small smile. “So too bad.”
“Alright, I guess I don’t get a choice then,” you replied with a matching smile.
“Hang tight, I’ll be right back.” He walked past you on his way to the staff room located behind you, a whiff of his - what you could only describe as intoxicating - cologne surpassed the overwhelming smell of motor oil and grease of the workshop. He emerged from the room a minute later with another person following behind him.
“Jules here is gonna drive us back to yours so I can get my truck, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, of course.” The drive back to your house passed practically the same as the drive to the shop had, this time with Jules asking you the questions about your job and studies, intercepted with your directions on where they should turn. You thanked Jules once they had pulled to a stop behind John’s pickup, both you and John climbing out of the car.
“Y’know I was gonna say that I’ll give you a call once I’m done with your car, but I realized I don’t have your number.” John noted once Jules had pulled away back towards the shop, holding out his phone in your direction.
“Well, that would’ve just made your job that much harder, wouldn’t it?” You joked back, taking his phone and creating your own contact. You typed in your number and nicknamed yourself ‘english major📚’ before handing it back to him. He smirked as he read it, typing something in himself before returning the phone to his back pocket. Your own phone buzzed with a new notification. Taking it out of your pocket to see that you had received a text from an unsaved number that read ´business major john📊.’ You laughed as you returned your phone to your pocket, meeting John’s amused doe-like eyes.
“There, now your job is the slightest bit easier.”
“Thank god. Otherwise I’d just have to show up to your house again.”
“And that would just ruin my day, honestly.” You sighed jokingly, gaining a laugh from John. “Thank you again for everything, I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, it’s no problem. It’s actually kind of my job.” You laughed, eyes closing momentarily and keeping you from noticing the look in John’s eyes as he watched you. “Hey, I should get going. But I’ll keep you updated on the car and-” he paused, one hand on the driver’s side door handle. “If you ever need a ride anywhere just let me know.” You thanked him again as he swung up into the truck. He flashed you that smile that you’re sure you’ll never be able to get out of your head before he pulled away from the curb and onto the road, his left hand waving out his open window.
“Oh, I’m screwed,” you thought to yourself as you turned to finally go into the house.
business major john📊: i’m thinking it’ll be about five days to fix your car up btw
business major john📊: but again if you need a ride at all until it’s done just let me know
english major📚: wow do all your customers get the uber option??
business major john📊: only the english majors
english major📚: well i’m a lucky gal then
english major📚: and thank you but i’ll probably just borrow my roommates’ cars if i need :)
business major john📊: offer still stands for whenever :)
english major📚: you’re a hockey player?
business major john📊: maybe
business major john📊: stalking much?
english major📚: my roommate informed me actually thanks😁
business major john📊: that scare you off?
english major📚: i’m canadian if anything i’m scared in
business major john📊: so you know puck then?
english major📚: a little
business major john📊: you got a favourite team?
english major📚: will my favourite team make or break my car?
business major john📊: depends
english major📚: big oilers fan over here🧡💙
business major john📊: woof we can work on that
english major📚: and yours is??
business major john📊: bruins all day baby🐻🐻
english major📚: yikes
english major📚: looks like we both got some work to do
hockey boy john🚩: how many packs of tissue do you need in your glove box?
oilers girl😬: i’m not paying you to snoop in my car🤨
hockey boy john🚩: i needed to check your registration for smtg
hockey boy john🚩: was definitely not snooping☝️
oilers girl😬: uh huh i’m so sure
hockey boy john🚩: still don’t trust me?😪
oilers girl😬: we’ll see how my car turns out
tissue hoarder🤧: is phil graham your friend garrett’s dad??
car snoop🫵: how are you a hockey fan at briar and only just realizing this?
tissue hoarder🤧: why would i pay any attention to the rangers?
car snoop🫵: fair point
hockey snob: i should be finished with your car tomorrow :)
#1 Rangers fan😰: great sounds good!
Hockey snob: if you don’t wanna take the bus i can pick you up after class tomorrow and you can wait around the shop while i finish up
Hockey snob: only if you want tho👍
#1 Rangers fan😰: that’d actually be great if you could thanks!! :))
Hockey snob: like i said any time :)
Hockey snob: where’s your last class tomorrow?
#1 Rangers fan😰: in the english building at the far west side of campus
#1 Rangers fan😰: if that’s too far for you tho i can meet you at your last class
Hockey snob: don’t even worry about it
Hockey snob: see you tomorrow :)
#1 Rangers fan😰: see ya :))
Leaving your last class of the day usually presents no surprises, except for today, which featured John Logan waiting outside the English building. He didn’t notice you at first which was great as you hastily brushed your hair behind your ears as you made your way towards him. The sun was hitting him at the perfect angle, highlighting his strong features. You were luckily able to close your mouth just in time before he turned his head and met your eyes. That smile that you had in fact not been able to get out of your head for the past few days adorned his face.
“Hey, Rangers fan.” He greeted you, causing you to roll your eyes.
“Don’t say that, anyone could hear you!” The sarcasm is clear in your voice as you hurried down the steps ahead of him. His long legs easily caught up to you, joining you stride for stride. “You didn’t have to come down, y’know? Your truck isn’t that hard to spot.”
“Just in case you forgot what it looked like,” he shrugged. While it had been a week since you had last seen each other in person, the two of you had been texting practically nonstop since then, allowing you to fall into easy conversation about how your days had been. You told him about how your classes had gone and he told you about the jokes his friends Dean and Tucker had told at practice that morning.
“Y’know you should come to a game sometime,” John suggested as your seatbelts clicked into place almost simultaneously. “I bet you’ve probably got some fun chants from back home to share with the crowd.”
“Yeah and some my dad taught me that probably wouldn’t go over well with the NCAA.” The drive from campus to the garage was filled with talk of hockey and your families, exchanging the different ways in which you had gotten into the sport.
“My dad always taped Oilers games, still does, and since I barely saw him during the week because of his crazy work schedule I would sit and watch them with him,” you shared. “I’ve never seen him more excited than when McDavid was drafted in 2015.”
“That’s like my brother when I got into Briar for hockey. He’s the reason I started playing in the first place.” You noticed the shift in John’s grip on the steering wheel at the mention of his brother. His eyes kept straight ahead at the road so you couldn’t be sure, but you had a feeling that there was something about his relationship with his brother and hockey that was a touchy subject.
“Are you two close?” He looked over at you, almost taken aback, as if you had taken him out of a trance.
“Yeah, sorta. Our parents weren’t really around so we kinda had to fend for ourselves. Take care of Jules and each other. We bonded over that stuff.” He cleared his throat after sharing, as if airing out his relationship with his siblings had dislodged something for him.
“Sounds like you guys really care for each other.” The ends of his mouth quirked up in that smirk you’d come to memorize.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
As John’s truck pulled into the Logan & Sons lot you noticed that your car had been moved to a different spot since you’d brought it in a week ago.
“I wouldn’t let anyone else work on it so my brother told me to move it so he could still take on new clients,” John explained, noticing my confusion.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do it all yourself, I wouldn’t have cared if someone else had worked on it.”
“I would’ve.” John climbed out of the truck, leaving you dumbfounded in the passenger seat. Shaking yourself out of it, you followed him out and back around to the other side of the desk in the corner of the shop. “It shouldn’t be too long, but make yourself at home.” Once again, you pulled a notebook and pen from your backpack, attempting to start the assignment you’d been assigned earlier today. But yet again you found yourself getting distracted by the contracting muscles in the arms of the guy working on your car. It really was embarrassing how many times you caught yourself practically drooling instead of planning out your essay.
“All done!” John called out about forty-five minutes later, slamming the hood closed. You had actually managed to get yourself to focus on your essay this time around and you looked up to find him dangling your car keys from his pointer finger in your direction. “Wanna take it for a test drive?” You practically ripped the keys from his finger, grinning at the idea of being able to drive your own car again instead of one of your roommates’. You felt almost shy as John climbed into the passenger seat beside you, your cheeks and tips of your ears going red. You twisted the key in the ignition and watched as absolutely no smoke emerged from under the hood and no clunking sound interrupted the purr of the engine.
“Oh we’re so back, baby.” John laughed at your reaction. You couldn’t help the grin on your face caused by your freshly working car and the guy in the passenger seat who you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for the past week. You slowly pulled out of the garage, guiding your car around the side of the building and to the front of the lot. John pointed you to a spot for you to park, which you do, sighing as you shifted into park. “You brought my girl back!” You exclaimed, grinning at John who returned the expression. “You’ve got the magic touch, Johnny.”
He chuckled at the nickname. “Johnny, huh?”
“What no one calls you that?”
“My mom did when I was younger. But I like it better coming from you.” The ease with which he expressed this caught you off guard, losing your breath momentarily. His eyes were soft and your heart softer as you shared a moment in the calm silence. You could’ve lived in these few seconds forever if it were up to you.
Back at the desk you were mentally cringing while waiting for the total price of getting your car’s engine fixed dumped on you like a bucket of cold water. Except when John told you the price it was nowhere near as much as you expected.
“Wait, are you sure?”
“One hundred percent,” John replied, even handing you the printed bill listing the cost of everything. “Briar students get a discount.” You scanned the bill over and over again, making sure that he had charged you for everything. Obviously you didn’t want to pay what you had expected, but you also didn’t want to accidentally scam the guy after he had gone above and beyond for you. After having read the bill at least three times over you decided that it was real and you wouldn’t be as broke as you expected.
“Alright, I guess ring me up.” You handed the bill back over to John who took it with a smile and began to ring up the price. When he turned the machine over to you, you made sure to leave a sizable tip.
“If anything ever happens to it again, you have my number,” John said, ripping your receipt from the machine. “And even if you ever need anything just give me a call.”
“I definitely will. And thank you so much again. For everything, honestly, you’ve been great. You should get a raise.”
“Would you mind telling my brother that actually? He might listen to you instead of me.” Your heart squeezed at this last joke between the two of you, the last laugh you two might share. This past week had been one of your best since coming to Briar and even though it was now the weekend, you didn’t want it to end.
“Bye, Johnny.” You turned your back on him to walk back to your car, secretly hoping that he would run up to you and ask you out, not wanting this to be your last interaction either. You looked back at him once more as you reached the driver’s side door, surprised to find his eyes were still on you. You gave him a smile and a wave, both of which he returned, before climbing in the car. As the air conditioning kicked in you caught a hint of his cologne, flipping your stomach in the best way possible. You snuck a glance at your rearview mirror as you pulled up to the stop sign at the exit to the lot, seeing that John had been joined by Jules behind the desk.
“You know Briar students don’t get a discount, right?” Jules asked their brother as they watched him watch your car begin to leave the lot. He looked at them with a quizzical look on his face, one eyebrow slightly raised.
“Friends and family discount, remember?”
“Didn’t you just meet her this week?”
“You can become friends with someone in a week, Jules,” John said, exasperated, escaping into the staff room behind them.
“Yeah…you have her number! Don’t let it go to waste!”
Your phone had chirped on the drive from the garage to your house, but being a responsible driver you didn’t check it until you pulled into your normal parking spot on the street in front of the house and had shifted into park. You had to read the message three times to make sure that this wasn’t your delusional mind playing tricks on you and that the text from John was in fact real.
Hockey snob: did you maybe want to go get coffee together some time soon whenever we’re both free?
Obviously you said yes.
~~~
a/n: this is getting turned into a series!!! so let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist once a new part is added!!
synopsis: your boyfriend spends months trying to talk you into doing a couples halloween costume that he saw online
warnings: some suggestive content
~~~
It was Connor’s idea. And according to him it took him exactly two months and 13 days to talk you into it.
“Absolutely not,”
“Come on, babe, it’ll be hilarious!”
“Are you forgetting how public your job is? Thousands of people are going to see it and thousands of your fangirls will be talking about it.” Was how your guys’ conversation about the subject went for the entirety of those two and a half months. From the end of August to almost the middle of October, Connor begged and begged for you to do his couples costume idea for Halloween. And each time he got shot down.
He even went as far as getting Frank, Will, and Macklin in on his scheming. Having them text you at the most random times asking what you thought of their costume ideas - with all of the accompanying photos being the couples costume that Connor continued to bug you about. He even went so far as to buy the materials needed to make the costume, using the argument of you not needing to buy anything for the costume.
You didn’t cave until you walked in the front door of your shared apartment one day to find him attempting to make the costume himself and making a way bigger mess than necessary. Construction paper and pieces of fabric were strewn all over the living room and around the hockey player sitting cross legged in front of the TV.
“Connor-”
“Look, you don’t even have to lift a finger to make the costumes! All you’ll have to do is put yours on!” He exclaimed with a huge smile on his face and fabric glue smeared all over his hands and somehow his cheek as well. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of your boyfriend looking like a little kid with their arts and crafts project.
“Alright fine, you win, Con,” you sighed, crouching down beside him as he let out a cheer. A laugh escaped your lips as he pressed a wet kiss to your cheek before turning back to the project in front of him. “I guess I can lend you some help,” you offered, snatching up what appeared to be the costume intended for yourself to wear.
“Good, because I actually have no clue what I’m doing,” Connor said while managing to get even more glue and a piece of construction paper stuck to his face. You shook your head, laughing as you picked the yellow strip from his face.
“That was more than obvious, C.” He exclaimed in protest as you laughed to yourself, focusing on the project in your hands and trying to decipher what your boyfriend had been attempting to create. Out of nowhere you felt fingers attack your sides, causing you to drop the supplies and cry out in surprise as Connor practically tackled you to the ground.
“What was that? Huh, babe?” He asked as he continued to tickle up and down your sides. Your breath came out in gasps and laughs as you made some attempt to answer him and push him off of you. His hands paused, being placed on either side of your head as you caught your breath. You looked up to see Connor hovering over you, his shaggy hair falling into his face as his eyes examined yours, a prominent smirk on his face.
“Wanna take it back?” You hesitantly nodded your head, staring back up at his bright blue eyes. “I wanna hear you say it.”
“Your arts and crafts skills could use some work but you’re not as hopeless as I would’ve thought, Bedard,” you huffed out. He seemed to consider your answer, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth tilting down slightly. You cringed slightly, mentally preparing for your ticklish sides to be attacked once again as he continued to hover over you and keep you pinned to the floor.
“Works for me,” he uttered moments later before he took you by surprise and crashed his lips into yours. Your hands finding their way into his hair and one of his finding your hip.
Much to Connor’s delight, the two of you won the Blackhawks’ unofficial Halloween Costume Contest. Your doubts on the costume followed you all the way to the Foligno’s front door where Connor asked if you were ready to head in. You nodded, mentally assuring yourself that this wasn’t as stupid of an idea as you thought. Nick and his wife, Janelle were the first to greet you two as you entered their house and automatically voiced their approval of the costume.
“Y’know, Beds, I didn’t believe you when you said you two would have the best costume this year, but I think I stand corrected,” Nick exclaimed, clapping Connor on the shoulder who smiled smugly at you causing you to roll your eyes.
“Let me guess- this was all his idea?” Janelle asked you as the two men continued to talk just off to the side.
“What gave it away?” You asked, smiling. After a minute or two more of talking to the party’s hosts, you and Connor made your way further into the party. Compliments and chirps were sent your guys’ way from the other Hawks and their significant others until you eventually found your way to Kevin, Frank, and Frank’s girlfriend in the backyard.
“I still can’t believe he talked you into this one,” Kevin said, sipping from his plastic cup.
“His arts and crafts skills were a cry for help, I had no choice but to step in and help the poor guy.” You shrugged, smirking up at your boyfriend who simply shook his head.
“Alright, come on, we gotta show everyone the full effect,” Connor exclaimed, setting his cup down on the table behind Frank. You begrudgingly took his hand, allowing him to walk you into the middle of the yard, earning the attention of the others around. You shook your head before pressing your hands to the two lights set in very specific spots on your chest, causing them to turn on. You couldn’t help but laugh along with everyone else at the sight of Connor, dressed as a deer, staring blankly at the two lights.
“A deer in headlights!” He’d exclaimed when he first told you the idea, explaining the entire costume concept.
“I think I deserve some sort of prize for thinking up our winning costume,” he declared smugly as he closed the door to your guys’ apartment at the end of the night.
“Oh, do you now?” You asked to which he nodded his head solemnly, his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth on his toes. You shook your head, giggling before rising up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and find a prize in our room,” You whispered in his ear before turning and walking away to the kitchen, a huge smile on your lips as you heard your boyfriend gasp as your words registered in his mind.
“You’re a cruel, cruel woman,” you heard him mutter, smirking to yourself.
“Maybe that’s what we’ll be next year then. Cruella de Vil and one of her puppies-” Before you could finish your sentence you were scooped up into Connor’s arms, a gasp escaping your lips.
“Hold that thought, doll, I want my prize for this year’s costume first,” he declared, walking towards your bedroom door as you laughed in his hold.
a/n: here is one of my rewritten zegras fics!! i hope you still like it if you're rediscovering it and if you're reading it for the first time i hope you enjoy!
word count: 922
warnings: none :)
~~~
Despite what everyone else at the party thought, yours and Connor’s corresponding costumes were not at all planned. It was simply coincidental that he happened to be dressed as Flynn Rider while you had dressed up as Rapunzel. But no matter how many times you denied it, absolutely no one was convinced.
“Y’know, I can distinctly remember Fraser wearing a very similar costume to yours at the Bruins’ Halloween party last year,” you shouted over the music, clutching onto Connor’s shoulder to keep him crouched at your level. His hair brushed your cheek as he turned to look at you, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“Well I did tell you my costume was a bit last minute since it didn’t get here in the mail until yesterday.” His voice sent shivers down your back as his lips barely brushed your ear. Your eyebrow raised as he sent you a wink; a perfect impersonation of what could’ve been a Flynn and Rapunzel still from the Tangled movie. Fraser’s costume last year had been the inspiration for yours this year and he just so happened to be one of the only people you had told about who you were planning to dress up as tonight.
“He told you, didn’t he?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, blondie,” Connor attempted to deadpan but his mouth betrayed him as it turned up into a smile. “Yeah, he told me. I needed an idea and he let it slip that you were dressing up as your favourite princess.” Your heart fluttered slightly, knowing that he knew your favourite Disney princess when you couldn’t remember ever having told him such a thing. It wasn’t even something that was all that important to you but it meant that he had remembered such a small fact that you must’ve told him at some point.
And that meant everything considering the crush you had secretly been harbouring for him practically since you’d met.
“So you decided to pretty much do an unofficial couple’s costume with me?”
“I mean, everyone already thinks we’re dating,” he shrugged. “What’s the harm in kidding them a bit?”
You paused.
This was your opportunity.
“Why stop at just dressing up as a couple?” His brow quirked up over the rim of his red solo cup. “Or am I kidding myself by saying this?”
Your words came out quieter but the look on his face was enough indication that he had managed to hear you over all the background noise. His eyes were big and round as they bore into yours, his mouth slightly open as his cup lowered. Your breath hitched and your heart pounded against your ribcage as he stepped even closer and bent down slightly to be eye-to-eye with you.
“Would I be kidding myself if I kiss you right now?” Your cheeks flushed as his eyes dragged over your face.
Your head shook slightly as your eyes flickered from his to his pink lips that quirked up at the corners at your reaction. “I’m gonna need words if I’m going to do this, babe.”
Your heart beat even faster at the pet name and how much closer he seemed to be than he had just moments ago. This was the moment you’d been hoping for for the past however many years since you’d known the hockey player.
“You’re not kidding yourself, Con,” you uttered, meeting his eyes through your lashes.
“So?”
“So if you’re gonna kiss me: kiss me.”
His face parted in such a large grin that you were sure his face might split in half. His unoccupied hand came up to cup your cheek as his lips met yours. His other arm snaked around your waist, cautious not to spill any of his drink on your costume. Your arms wound around his neck, your hands finding their way into the soft ends of his hair at the back of his head. His lips were soft as they moved against yours. You could taste whatever he was drinking on his tongue but were too deep into the haze of your emotions to care.
With him this close, practically flush to your body, you were engulfed in everything that was Connor. His scent, his taste, his hands. Everything that made up the guy you had fallen for. The guy who remembered your favourite Disney princess. Who took you for McFlurries at three in the morning even when he insisted it was too late for ice cream and didn’t even get one for himself. Who made you laugh more than anyone or anything else but who you also trusted with your most precious secrets.
His lips turned up in a smile causing your own to do the same until the kiss was more teeth and laughter than anything else. You pulled away only for him to follow and place one, two, three more soft kisses on your lips. His forehead came to rest against your own, your arms still wrapped around his neck as both of his found your waist and pulled you even closer to him. His face was flushed, his lips swollen and red and his eyes bright as they looked into yours which you were sure held a similar quality.
“Y’know my lipgloss is all over your lips now,” you uttered, just loud enough for him to hear.
“Good. Now everyone will know who I’m here with and who I’m leaving with.”
“Like our costumes didn’t already give that away.”
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i've been pretty inactive on this account lately, especially when it comes to my own writing, but i've been trying to write a lot more recently and wanted to give a little update :)
while the few fics i've written were originally trevor zegras fics that did pretty well, i've decided to take them down considering that my views and beliefs do not align with his at all and i was very disappointed (however, not very surprised) to see his support for charlie kirk last year. he's also just weird and isn't one of my faves anymore :/
i did originally keep them up because people seemed to like them, but i've decided to rewrite them as bedard fics, which i will be posting very soon!
going forward, i do hope to write more fics for this blog, but can't promise that i will be consistent with posting. i am also open to requests!
hopefully some of y'all are as excited as i am for the fics coming soon :))
yeah i’m really happy for macklin and he deserves the worlds captaincy 100% and i’m so glad team canada adopted him as the person they’re passing the baton to because he’s such an amazing gift of a franchise player. but somewhere deep in my bitter heart i can’t help but think about my Close Personal Friend connor bedard
You match with Connor Bedard at 11:42 p.m. You don’t even realize it’s him at first. He’s just Connor. There’s a low-effort bio, a few decent pictures. You swipe right because he’s hot.
He messages first.
Connor:
You’re up late
You smirk at how quickly he sent that.
You:
So are you
Then three messages later:
Connor:
Can I come over
No buildup. No formalities. You stare at your screen for a second.
Then you send him your address
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
You open the door and he’s standing there in a hoodie and sweats. You take one look at him, and yeah. You get it.
“Hi,” you say, like this is normal.
“Hey.”
His eyes flick over you once, quick, but not really. Not subtle.
“You always show up at strangers houses this late?” You ask.
“Only the pretty ones.”
That makes you give him the smallest hint of a smile. The door barely clicks shut before the space between you disappears. It’s immediate. Like the conversation part was just a formality.
His hands find your waist like they already know where to go, pulling you in with just enough force to make your breath catch.
“Still think I’m pretty?” You murmur, close enough that you know he can feel it more than hear it.
“Gorgeous.”
The you kiss him. It’s not soft. Not slow. It’s the kind of first kiss that feels like it’s been building for longer than the minutes you’ve known each other.
A little reckless. A little impatient.
And just like that the tone is set.
He doesn’t stay long after. Sits on the edge of your bed, catching his breath, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re not what I expected,” he says.
You raise an eyebrow. “You expected something?”
He glances at you, half-smirk. “Not this.”
“Disappointed?”
“Not even a little.”
Then he’s pulling his hoodie back on.
“Text me,” he says, like it’s nothing.
Like you didn’t just meet him a few hours ago.
And then he’s gone.
And honestly it should end there. But it doesn’t.
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
The next time, it’s after a game with the Blackhawks.
Connor:
You up
You roll your eyes, but you still tell him to come over.
He’s different after wins. There’s more teasing. Hands a little more confident, like he knows exactly what kind of reaction he’s going to get out of you.
“Miss me?” he asks one night, already stepping into your space.
“Bold of you to assume I think about you.”
He hums, unconvinced, fingers brushing your jaw just enough to tilt your head up. “Yeah. I don’t believe that.”
After losses, though, that’s when he’s quieter. More intense. Less talking, more feeling. Like he’s trying to burn something off.
But no matter what, it always ends the same. Him pulling away first. Him grabbing his hoodie. Him pressing a quick kiss somewhere that doesn’t mean anything, and then:
“I’ll text you.”
Gone before the air in your apartment even resets.
Sometimes he lingers. Sits on the edge of your bed, scrolling his phone. Makes some sarcastic comment about whatever show you’ve got playing in the background.
“You seriously watch this?”
“You seriously just showed up at midnight uninvited?”
“Fair.”
He gives a small smirk. Then he’s gone anyway. Always gone.
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
And it works. Because it has to. Because the second it becomes anything else it breaks.
So you don’t let it.
You don’t ask him to stay. He doesn’t offer. You don’t text first. He doesn’t text early.
Everything exists in that narrow window of late nights and closed doors, where nothing has to mean anything beyond what it is.
And for a while it stays that way.
But then something changes. Not all at once. Nothing obvious enough to call out.
Just little things. Easy to ignore if you don’t look too closely.
He lingers a few minutes longer one night. Not enough to matter. Just long enough to lay on the edge of your bed, scrolling through his phone while you move around your room. You don’t say anything. Neither does he.
The next time, he talks a little more. Nothing important. Just a story, half-finished, about something that happened at practice. You don’t even remember the details later. Just the fact that he told it.
Then one night, as he’s halfway to the door, he pauses. Like he forgot something. He doesn’t turn around, just stands there for a second too long before leaving anyway.
You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything. Because it doesn’t. It can’t.
But the rhythm is off now. Just slightly. It’s subtle. You wouldn’t even notice it if you weren’t already paying attention.
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
One night his hand settles at your waist the same way it always does, familiar, certain. But it doesn’t move right away. Doesn’t rush.
You glance at him, a little thrown off.
“Something wrong?” you ask.
He shakes his head once.
“Nothing.”
But he doesn’t let go. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, absent, almost like he’s not thinking about it. Or maybe like he is.
There’s a beat where neither of you moves.
And then he leans in. The kiss isn’t different enough to question. Not at first. Still close. Still intense. Still him.
But it lingers. There’s no rush behind it this time. No urgency pushing it forward. No sense that he’s trying to get somewhere else.
It’s just… there. And for a second so are you.
When you pull back, it’s not all the way. Just enough to look at him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, quieter than you meant to be.
“Like what?” he says, but there’s something off in his voice.
“Like you’re thinking.”
That almost gets a smile. Almost.
“Am I not allowed?” he says.
“Not like this.”
That sticks. You can see it. His eyes flick over your face like he’s trying to figure something out in real time. And for once he doesn’t have something quick to say.
Instead, he leans in again. And this time you feel it. Not in what he’s doing. But in what he’s not doing.
That’s when it settles in. Quiet. Unavoidable. Something’s different. Neither of you says it, but from that point on, nothing quite goes back to the way it was before.
He starts texting earlier in the day. Staying longer. Touching you even when he doesn’t have a reason to, a hand on your waist as he passes. Fingers brushing yours like it’s accidental. (It’s not.)
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
One night everything changes.
He texts later than usual. Just:
You up
No attitude. No follow-up. When you open the door for him, you know immediately something is off.
He’s quiet. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.
“Tough game?” you ask.
“Yeah.”
He steps inside. Doesn’t reach for you. Doesn’t pull you in.
“Connor?” you try.
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… needed to get out.”
Not needed you. Just out.
You nod slowly. “Okay.”
There’s a pause. Then he looks at you. Really looks at you. And steps closer.
His hand finds your waist again, but this time it’s different. Not automatic. Slower. Grounding.
“You’re quiet,” you say.
“So are you.”
That almost gets a smile.
The kiss, when he finally leans in, isn’t like the others. Still close. Still intense. But there’s something softer underneath it. Something that lingers. He doesn’t pull away. Forehead resting lightly against yours again, breath uneven. Hands still there, holding on.
That’s when it hits you. This isn’t the same.
“Connor…” your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to.
He hums slightly, still close, still there, like he hasn’t fully decided whether to pull away or stay exactly where he is.
That’s the problem.
“You can’t keep showing up like this if you don’t mean it.” You whisper.
He stills. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just enough that you feel it, the shift in him, the way something tightens under your hands.
For the first time since you met him, Connor Bedard doesn’t have a quick answer. No sarcasm. No deflection. No easy way out.
His forehead is still resting against yours. Close enough that if either of you moved an inch, your lips would meet again. But neither of you do.
“What do you think this means?” he asks finally, voice low.
That’s not what you expected. You let out a small breath, something between a laugh and frustration.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn it back on me.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you. His hands don’t leave your waist, if anything, they tighten slightly.
“I’m serious,” he says.
And he is. That’s what makes this worse.
You shake your head, trying to find your footing again.
“It means you don’t get to act like this is still nothing.”
His jaw shifts slightly at that.
“Who said it was nothing?”
That hits harder than it should. Because he’s never said that before. Not once.
“You did,” you say, quieter now. “Every time you left.”
You can see that land. For a second, it looks like he’s going to argue. Like he’s going to fall back into that familiar version of himself, the one that keeps this easy, untouchable, uncomplicated.
But he doesn’t.
“I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”
The words are quieter than anything he’s said all night. You blink, thrown off balance.
“That’s not—” you stop, exhaling. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
He steps back half a step now. Not far, just enough that the space between you exists again. And somehow, that feels worse than before.
“The point is,” you say, trying to steady your voice, “this was supposed to be simple.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
There’s that pause again. That hesitation.
“I thought it was,” he admits.
Something in your chest tightens. Because that was the deal. That was the whole reason this worked.
“Then why are you here?” you ask.
It comes out softer this time. Less defensive, more… honest.
He looks at you like the answer should be obvious. Like you’re missing something right in front of you.
“I don’t know,” he says.
And he means it. You can tell.
But that doesn’t make it easier, because if he doesn’t know…then there’s nothing to hold onto. Nothing to push against.
Silence settles between you again. He runs a hand through his hair, pacing once like he did earlier, restless in a way you’ve never seen from him before.
“I just—” he stops, exhales sharply. “I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
That’s honest. Too honest for what this is supposed to be.
You nod slowly, you get that, you really do. But that’s not all of it. You can feel that there’s more he’s not saying.
“Okay,” you say carefully. “But that’s not all this is.”
He looks at you again. And this time there’s no hesitation.
“I know.”
Your breath hitches slightly.
“Connor…”
You don’t even know what you’re about to say. What you should say.
Because whatever this is, it’s already past the point of being easy.
He steps closer again. Slower this time. Like he’s giving you time to stop him. You don’t.
His hand comes up, brushing lightly along your jaw, thumb resting just under your chin.
“Then tell me to leave,” he says quietly.
Your stomach drops. Because he’s not challenging you. He’s giving you an out.
“Say it,” he adds, softer now. “And I will.”
You look at him. At the way he’s standing there, so close, but not touching you like before. Actually waiting.
And it feels like everything is shifting, because before he never waited. He just came and went like it didn’t matter.
Now he’s standing here like it does.
You should say it. You know you should.
“Connor…” you start.
But it doesn’t turn into leave. It just… hangs there.
His eyes flick down to your mouth for half a second. Then back up.
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
Not a question. Not an answer. Acknowledgment. And then he closes the distance again.
The kiss isn’t rushed. Not like the first night. Not like any of the nights after.
It’s slower. Intentional. Like he’s paying attention to every second of it. Like he’s trying to figure something out in real time.
Your hand curls into the front of his hoodie without thinking, pulling him closer. And he lets you. Easily.
When he pulls back this time, it’s not far. Just enough to breathe.
“This is a bad idea,” you murmur, still too close.
“Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. “Probably.”
You huff out the smallest laugh, shaking your head slightly.
“That’s reassuring.”
That almost-smile shows up again. Faint but as real as ever.
“Want me to leave?” he asks.
You hesitate again. Then, softer,
“No.”
And this time he stays. Not on the edge of the bed. Not halfway out the door. He stays like he’s decided something. Even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.
⊱ —————- °.• ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ •.° —————— ⊰
Hours later, you’re both still there. The room quieter. The tension different now, less sharp, settled. But something is heavier.
At some point, you realize his arm is around you. Not accidentally, and neither of you move away.
When you finally start to drift off, there’s a thought you can’t shake:
who do I need to speak to, to make Zac Efron legally obligated to do a musical at least once every 2-3 years. every year, he doesn't do one, feels like wasted talent 😔
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i’m on a hugh dancy kick right now after watching confessions of a shopaholic and i realized he looks like a mix between jonah hauer-king and logan lerman and i have no one to talk about this with
like are y’all picking up what i’m putting down here
i’m gonna need them to adapt the hoo series into a show because i had the vision of an edit of annabeth yelling to the gods after percy’s disappeared to the lyrics of tyrant by beyoncé🧍♂️
i love it when you read multiple works from a writer and you start being able to pick out the things that stick with them. like the themes they keep thinking about, that can’t be satisfied with just one poem or novel or story. or the motifs they like to reuse and recycle throughout their works like an extradiagetic thread. it’s like drawing a map through a writer’s collection of all the things that keep them up at night
does anyone know a way to download fics from fanfiction.net onto a phone or laptop?? i found a jily fic that i read back in middle school and don’t want to accidentally lose it again but i haven’t found a way to download it at all
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ok idk if this is smtg the mcu has ever addressed cause i’ve been out of the loop for a couple years now but have they ever covered like sterilization for the super soldiers? cause in the red room they sterilized the girls but what about the super soldiers? cause would the serum sterilize them or just like make them extra fertile?
this also brings up the question of whether the serum could somehow be passed on to a child if a soldier were to impregnate someone. and if that were the case would hydra have like a legitimate breeding program to be able to manipulate and train soldiers right from birth? because think how easy it would be to train them then if it’s all they’ve ever known. but then at the same time would hydra want these like insanely fertile soldiers running around for like anyone to essentially get ahold of the serum?
idk i have so many questions but i feel like a hydra super soldier breeding program is so horrific but is something that would exist
jbbartram-illu
pixelskylines
jacobvanloon
turnnoffyourmind
blakekathryn
