NHL Imagines

Andre Burakovsky (Washington Capitals)

Anyone that saw us would think we were the cutest and most passionate couple in the world, but, like any other normal pair, we had our problems.

"I don't get why you're so mad! You're the one that punched her! Of course they were going to throw you out!" Andre shouted behind me, slamming the front door shut.

"That's not why I'm mad!" I screamed, throwing my purse somewhere in the living room.

"Then why are you mad, huh? Did you break a nail? Did she ruin your hair?" he asked, mockingly.

I scowled and clenched my phone in my hand, hoping it wouldn't break.

"You didn't stand up for me! She called me disgusting names and you didn't do anything about it! She sat humping your leg for 30 damn minutes and as soon as I said something, she verbally attacks me! I'm sorry I don't want some bimbo getting my boyfriend off!"

"I would've rather it had been her. At least she's not acting like a child who didn't get their way" he laughed softly.

I grabbed the closest thing to me and threw it as hard as I could towards the wall. I turned around before I saw it hit the wall, but I heard the sound of glass breaking and I immediately knew it was one of our picture frames.

I kicked my heels off and stomped into our room, reaching up and grabbing the key off the frame then shutting the door so hard, I'm surprised the wood didn't snap in two. I managed to find the lock through my angry tears and clicked it in.

Unzipping my dress, I pulled on a pair of pajama shorts and a Green Day shirt, then climbed into bed.

Andre came to the door around 1:00 only to find that I was locked. He banged on the door multiple times, but I just grunted and put headphones in.

If he thought I was a child, I would show him how childish I could actually be.

||In the morning||

The sun shone bright through the windows, making me pull the covers over my head and groan. I closed my eyes tighter, hoping to fall back asleep, but, after a few minutes, I knew it would be impossible.

I rolled out of bed, dramatically stomping my feet on the ground, trying to annoy Andre. After brushing my hair and pulling my hair up into a messy bun, I went down the stairs to get into the kitchen.

Andre was sitting at the counter on his phone. A plate of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of him. I looked over at the stove and saw he had made some for me as well.

I smiled and got a plate from the cabinet, piling on eggs and a couple strips of bacon. I took a seat across from Andre. He never looked up at me and it made me more annoyed.

"Andre?"

His eyes flickered up at me, then moved back down to his phone. He typed something, locked it, and got up out of his seat, throwing the rest of his food away.

"Now who's acting like a child?" I muttered.

He dropped his plate in the sink and turned the water off. He breathed in deeply before flipping around to face me.

"Is that what this is about? You locked me out of our room because I called you a child? You were being a little brat!" his voice raised after each word.

"I was being a brat because I love you? You would've beat the living hell out of a guy if he even looked at me! Oh, but it's so different when a girl does it to you, right?" I yelled, standing up from my chair.

His jaw clenched and I found it strangely hot for the situation we were in right now.

"I know this is in no way an excuse, but I was drunk. Well, the girl was while I was drunk. I called you a child out of anger," he admitted, scratching the back of his head.

"Andre, I love you so much. What you did last night hurt me. Seeing that girl on you made me insecure. She was such a gorgeous girl. I'm surprised you didn't go home with her," my bottom lip quivered and he rushed over to me, bringing me into his arms.

"I. Love. You. I love you so much, I don't think you understand how much you mean to me and I'm sorry for what happened,"

I held the back of his shirt in my hands.

"So this means I'm not a child, right?"

Requested by @ESmith17 I don't even know anymore... I haven't been too into writing for the past couple weeks and I don't like a lot of my imagines.