Fallen_iris



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    there are three things william charles patrick smith is sure of. the first is that he was made for hockey. the second is that he was born to love macklin celebrini. the third is that the second of those things will one day lead him down into the pits of hell.

    he learns the first long before the second. the other doesn’t come until later. 

    or, wcps’ multi-year side-quest is yearning. a lot.

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    06 Oct 2026

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    Bucky stares at the papers in front of him, not daring to look up.

    In front of him read: No Fault Divorce Form. It was all filled out in his name, as plaintiff. Defendant; Steven Grant Rogers.

    “So that’s it?” He has to confirm.

    “Pretty much,” Natasha replies. “He can contest it. He can refuse it. You can also never show him. Doesn’t have to matter.”

    Bucky nods. Doesn’t have to matter. Doesn’t have to matter that he went to his best friend and colleague to have divorce papers drawn out, all in proper legal jargon, because he’s been thinking about divorce for months and months and told no one.

    Not even his husband.

    -----

    Bucky and Steve have been together all their lives. Bucky thought they would have made it, that they were the other half of the statistics. He thought they would have found their way to each other in the end. Life is funny like that sometimes.

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    16 Sep 2026

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    It’s been one week, two days, and twenty hours since Eddie told Buck he was in love with him.

    It happened a few feet from where Buck’s standing now, just a little further to the left of the coffee table, and in front of the lamp. Since that day, he finds himself drifting there on cue, feet dragging to the spot before his mind catches up. 

    He’s staring at the spot, he realizes, and tears his eyes away.

    It’s been one week, two days, twenty hours (and roughly seventeen minutes) since Eddie told Buck he was in love with him, and now he’s sitting on his couch helping Buck decide on a shirt for his date.

    A date that’s not with Eddie, because when Eddie told him he loved him, Buck didn’t say it back. Because he isn’t. In love with Eddie, that is.

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    13 Sep 2026

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    Chimney sat down across from them and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Theo. Buddy. What's Eddie do when Buck says something dumb?"

    "Chim,” Eddie groaned.

    Theo thought about it. Theo took it seriously; he tipped his head back and squinted, doing real cognitive labor, and then he turned to the room at large, dropped his chin, let his shoulders fall about an inch, and said, with a long-suffering exhale that came all the way up from his tiny diaphragm:

    "Buck."

    The loft went insane.

    It was perfect. That was the horrifying part. It wasn't a kid saying a name. It had the whole shape of it: the little drop at the end, the fondness sanded down into exhaustion so nobody would notice the fondness. Eddie had been saying that man's name that exact way since 2019 and had never once heard it from the outside, and now it was coming out of a preschooler in a costume, in front of everyone he worked with.

     

    Or, Theo copies Eddie

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    12 Sep 2026

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    Jonny exhales, his mind and his body exhausted. Yet before he heads inside to go to sleep, Jonny stands with his eyes closed, and he takes count of the absolute truths.

    He’s thirty-five years old. His body is battling a chronic illness. He’s no longer captain of an original six franchise in the NHL. He’s no longer employed, technically speaking, with his contract running out at the end of the season. He’s accomplished more than most hockey players could ever hope for in a lifetime - Olympic gold, multiple Stanley Cups. He’s a Conn Smythe winner. Recipient of the Mark Messier Leadership Award.

    And he’s comprehensively, infinitely in love with Patrick Kane.

    [It's the summer of 2023, and Jonathan Toews finally gets out the words that have been stuck in his throat.]

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    09 Sep 2026