#stxincd

꒰ @stxincd ꒱ gets a starter .ᐟ ⤷ liam @ trevor

So far, Liam could 1000% say college? Like the freshest breath of air compared to his high school life. Sure, there were still homophobic assholes, but most of them weren't as bold anymore. Most of them, from his experience -- were just closeted assholes that kept to themselves more than not. He wasn't stressed about school work to such an extreme, didn't have people watching him like he was some side show. More people looked like him now than compared to high school so none of it mattered. He was peeved, though, that his roommate he'd been meeting for the past few weeks before the semester started completely flaked on him. Meant having a replacement tossed in who was late to join the program, needed a place to stay. Liam at least hoped they were chill. . . He'd already unpacked his side of the room by the time the dorm door flung open carelessly. Art supplies, his dock for his phone so he could play his music and do his dancing if he so pleased, his desk cluttered, laptop thrown on it, some clothes he still hadn't put away. Only drawn away from his organizing when he spun around to the sound, raising brows. Oh. Well, this might not be so bad after all.

" Fashionably late? Or. . . well, not so fashionably, actually. " A small poke at the outfit the other had on, just a plain hoodie and jeans. " Doesn't matter -- you're the guy replacing my other roommate, then? " Bright eyes curious, giving a once over slowly before landing on the other's face. A hand up to tuck longer curls behind an ear before reaching that same hand outwards. " I'm Liam. Guess we should get friendly. " He wondered how the other would act. They hadn't been able to meet prior thanks to the last-minute of it all. Prayed this guy wasn't some weirdo about him right off rip.

Shane stirred slightly at the sound of Ilya's voice, blinking his eyes open. For a moment he looked disoriented, cheeks flushed from the fever and hair sticking up in every direction. "You did?" he asked, voice rough and sleep-heavy. His gaze shifted to the tray before returning to Ilya. The concern on Ilya's face made something warm settle in his chest despite how miserable he felt.

Shane pushed himself upright against the arm of the sofa, immediately regretting it when a wave of dizziness hit him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. When the dizziness passed, he reached for the tea first, wrapping both hands around the warm mug.

Shane yawns as he sits up, rubbing at his eyes and blinking a few times to try and wake up properly. It's early. About five in the morning. They have practice at ten and Shane wants to try and get a workout in before then. He reaches over to the bedside table and grabs his glasses, putting them on before pulling his hair up and out of his face. It's only when he shifts to get out of bed that Ilya grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down.

He lets out a surprised noise and laughs when he lands on top of Ilya's chest, opening his mouth to say something, but it's quickly smothered by a deep kiss. Ilya's tongue slips into his mouth and Shane can't help but moan softly, a full body shudder running through him. "Mmf--Ilya--gotta get up--" he mutters in between insistent kisses. He hears Ilya mumble something about how he could give him a workout instead, and Shane snorts.

in hindsight, the hit he took during second period might have been a bit harder than he initially thought. it was hard enough to get a reaction from the crowd, for a trainer to flag him down, but ilya gave them the thumbs up. it was fine. he was fine. this game was too important, and he was still standing, so it couldn't be that bad. his ears still rung for a while after, but he ignored it and pulled out the win for the centaurs.

they were conducting live interviews in the concourse after the game. they did it a couple nights a year, a lot of people looked forward to it. ilya didn't feel strongly about them one way or the other. but after that hit, he was dreading it. he just wanted to go home. hopefully he could sleep it off.

he's not even halfway through the interviews when he realizes something is wrong. the questions start making less sense. english is getting harder. he starts throwing a few russian words and phrases out without even realizing it. he hasn't done that since his rookie season. he's in the middle of answering a question when something hits him in the pit of his stomach. fuck. something's wrong. he starts to stutter harshly on his words, hands fidgeting on the table.

❝ um. i think i need— i can't— need to finish... ❞ they remind him they're live. his mind doesn't really wrap around it. ❝ need to finish later, i think. sorry. ❞ ilya bolts from his seat, his chest immediately dropping. fuck. he's never had to do that before. people are whispering now. staring.

( plotted thingy for @stxincd <3 )

[ o ]--- New York was truly, eternally, never sleeping.

Even after two seasons in this city Thor still found himself mildly surprised at how lively the city could be, on a random Tuesday evening, in a smaller, unknown part of Brooklyn.

Granted, any pub would be a lively place when it was invaded by well known hockey players wanting to celebrate, and especially if the city's own Avengers graced them with their presence.

Thor was not in the mood to celebrate; the win against Ottawa was barely deserving of the name, considering it was only by one point, and the tension in the Avengers team was at an all time high. Most of that was his fault, well, his and Steve's fault, and it had driven Tony to a desperate sort of invite to "blow off some steam" in one of the more exotic type of bars.

Steve had declined, dismissed it rather quickly, as he had done with most of Tony's ideas as of late, and Thor was painfully aware of the continued avoidance their captain was getting very skilled at.

' Huh, they actually came!'

The exclamation from Tony carried that obnoxious flair of delight that always emerged when he got exactly what he wanted, or was right about something. The wild gesture with the glass of scotch towards the door followed a second later, and suprise emerged on Thor's features when he noticed the men that had entered.

' You invited them? Centaurs?'

' Yeah, why not? We met a few of them at the All Stars, it's not like they're strangers? Besides, they know how to party.'

| ♡ | ~ @stxincd

‘You know, Hollander, I was having very serious reputation once.’

Ilya stood at the kitchen counter with his phone in hand, staring at the photograph someone had taken outside the rink; Shane in his hoodie, Ilya beside him, too close and too happy for anyone to pretend it was anything else now. Years ago, that picture would have been disaster. Agents. Panic. Locked doors. Now people online called them cute, which was offensive in ways even English did not deserve to survive. ( He would ask Shane later. Shane enjoyed rules and suffering. Canadian hobbies. ) Still, he looked at it too long before dropping the phone down like it had insulted his family.

‘Cute, Shane. They call me cute. This is what loving you has done to me, yes?’

Shane still couldn't really believe it, if he was honest. The fact that currently they were, essentially — on their honeymoon. That would be the only thing to describe the time taken off to spend with one another, all alone, after getting married. Just thinking that single little word still did a number on Shane's insides. . . After ten whole years of situationship, to messy confessions, to boyfriends and now this. To their names meshed on an official document. To a ring that still felt so strange yet so welcome along his finger. Holy shit. Holy shit. It felt like all those years they never had this — had time to themselves, for themselves. For each other. It made Shane feel this mix of giddy excitement just under his skin. Almost too overwhelming, but not quite there yet. Maybe that feeling might come, one day. Maybe Shane would need help dealing with it — but he trusted Ilya to be there every step of the way. Currently, Shane was actually trying to get out of bed. They'd been lounging around all morning and afternoon and surely one of them had to get up to make lunch, right? It was nice to have no worries. It reminded him of the cottage all over again only better.

However he was thoroughly and abruptly stopped when long arms curled around him, essentially tackling him right back into bed. Yes, Ilya had groaned about not wanting to get up just yet, but really? A slightly unsteady laugh thanks to the air getting pushed out his lungs a little weirdly. Head falling back and dark, doe-like eyes finding crystal blues. " You — seriously, Ilya? " A complaint that fell short because, well. . . Shane didn't sound that pressed about it.

A week and a few days really shouldn't be considered a long time, when things between them are taken into account. Ilya could recall months in between seeing each other or even contacting one another. At one point even a year had passed with nothing. A week and some change was, what was it. . . children's play. They'd suffered far worse being apart longer. Yet when Ilya got that text that morning, stating Shane was going to finally, finally be back in the same area — he had to hold back on this jittering nerves that seemed to wire his system. Things were still being worked out. The Gala was, as guessed — a week and a few days ago. The same Gala they had openly shown up together, expressed their love publicly, admit to being in a relationship. All of that, just to then be separated another week. More days closer and closer to when Ilya was meant to be home. In fact, that was in less than a week now. Time was ticking, the date of their arraigned marriage was right around the corner. Would be happening not too long after Shane was here, with him, in his apartment. Fuck. . . There was not a single negative emotion Ilya held towards their plans. The only thing eating away at him was the adrenaline from it all. A constant emotion he wasn't sure was healthy to have, but he had it. Let it linger as he imagined what would happen next. He already had sponsors drop after the Gala. Already had his team on thin ice. Not having kicked him to the curb yet, but only to save face and he knew as much. Knew it would look too bad for him to be off the team only a week after coming out. Not that it mattered. Their sights were on Ottawa. That was the goal.

Ilya's phone buzzing was the only thing to drag him out of his thoughts then. A simple text from Shane stating he was right down the street. The Russian decided he did not care how pathetic he looked when getting up, checking himself over once in the mirror on his fridge, before heading to the door to already have it open by the time his fiancé showed up his driveway.