#[ HANDS YOU THIS LIKE SLIDING A HOCKEY PUCK ]

[tojisun]

hockey player simon pt 03 // part of this plot // mlist

i swear it was just supposed to be a drabble w no plot

jo heaves a sigh the moment you slide in front of her, and you would have been insulted if it wasn't for the gentle smile she gives right after. still, she's staring at you with that teasing tilt of her lips and her eyes narrowed in humour, one that you're not privy to.

"what?" you finally bite out, fiddling with your iced coffee, feeling self-conscious.

you fleet your eyes to yourself and, yeah, sure you're wearing the same pants as yesterday’s but c'mon? you didn't get to go back to your place after, well...

at least you didn't repeat your top, and is instead wearing a sweater you've stolen from simon's closet. cashmere, cream and soft, and the material comfortable, if not a little bit loose in the arms that droop past your fingers.

you thought you at least looked like those typical college students in the movies—effortlessly chic in a boyfriend sweater, if not a little haggard because who is not when in university?

she finally chuckles, the thrum of her voice easing up the frown that tugged your brows together. “don’t sweat it, superstar. it’s just that i’m still not used to seeing you be a sugar baby.”

you choke mid-sip, her words devouring you like an angry tide. you feel your eyes water in protest, the feeling burning as you sputter.

“i’m not–!”

“you’re not what?” tim asks, sliding into the seat beside yours.

you grumble, wagging a finger as you wipe your stained chin with your other hand. jo snorts and fills him in, chuckling all the while as she gestures at your sweater because she knows it couldn’t possibly have been yours.

tim’s smile turns cheeky, teasing, and he wiggles his brows at you.

“shut up, oh my god,” you whine, rolling your eyes at them, almost shyly, and you feel your cheeks warming. “i’m not– simon’s not my–”

“oh c’mon, babe,” jo says, playfully throwing her mechanical pencil at you. you huff before chucking it back at her, giggling to yourself when it bounces off her arm and rolls into the floor.

tim picks it up for her.

“he buys you expensive things—” her eyes flit to the new promise ring that you’re wearing. you unconsciously hide it behind your palm. “and pays for your tuition which i’m so, so jealous of.”

“doesn’t he fly you around too? in a private jet or something?” tim pipes up, shamelessly snagging away your iced coffee now that you’re too preoccupied to drink it.

“he doesn’t!”

twin brows quirk up in silent judgement.

“…he buys us first class tickets, not, like, a whole jet.”

see? they seemed to say with the way they cock their heads to the side.

you sniff. “it’s for work,” you mumble, remembering the first time simon flew you for his games.

“i mean, for him, maybe. but you? tell me what business do you have in winnipeg?” tim chirps and you almost want to jump him just to make him shut up.

“sugar baby,” jo finishes, singing. “but i mean, who can blame him, huh?” she grins, her voice dipping into a faux southern accent. “i’d spoil you too, sugar.”

“oh, you flirt,” you trill, taking the opening she offers to change the topic.

tim takes the bait and whines about how jo doesn’t do all those things for him, but jo is unmoved, eyeing you knowingly, but thankfully drops it too.

it’s just—

there’s a whole stigma to athlete’s girlfriends. for god’s sake, they even have a whole label—puck bunny—which is honestly just a dig made up by really shitty men who burn with jealousy . and you know that, but—

you can’t help but wonder if some, not all, of simon’s love for you is because of what you do to him. of what you give him in return. especially since he’s so busy all the time, either flying during the season and is rarely home, or packed with training and other physical regimen during the offseason.

so you wonder if this—flying you with him on the days the official WAGs are not being flown by the franchise, bringing you to vacation spots on the other side of the ocean, buying you everything you used to only dream of ever having—was his way of paying you back for your support and patience and care and love.

tim knocks his shoulder with yours, worry now lining his boyishly charming face.

“y’alright?”

“of course.” you lick your lips. “so did you ever get a copy of the lab sheet from rayan?”

.

you watch from the front seats as the team wrap up practice tonight, their coach looking pleased at their performance. it was still difficult to follow the game, but the players all look content too despite the sweat and their ragged breathing.

they never did know how to hold back even during a practice.

you say your goodbyes to the other people who came to watch, shooting simon a text that you’ll be waiting for him in the parking lot, and walk out.

the cashmere sweater, thankfully, is enough to fight off the cool air and the gentle breeze while you make your trek to simon’s distinct range rover, all sleek and pure black like he’s got the damn royals for a passenger.

it’s locked so you hover outside, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your pants, and entertained yourself with making puffs of air like you’re ten again. it’s honestly not too bad to be alone, if it weren’t for the sudden swarming of your doubts—the very same ones you thought you already shrugged off before taking the cab to the rink.

fuck.

“hey, love,” simon’s voice pierces through your thoughts and you jump, barely smothering the yelp that almost tore itself from the base of your throat.

you swivel, heart pounding, and simon’s beautiful face creases into one of concern.

“are you–”

“si!” you greet, jogging to him.

he laughs and opens his arms for a hug, one that you excitedly give him. you tuck your cold face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, taking in the antiseptic scent of rink soap and the faint smell of his shampoo.

his body is so warm against yours, and you can’t help but melt in his hold, body relaxing at the comfort he brings you.

“you ready to go home?” he asks like the insinuation that his home is also yours is not heart-stopping and world-changing.

you nod, unable to trust your voice right now.

there’s something different whenever it’s just you and simon—your thoughts, for once, are quiet and your confidence in yourself peaking like simon is the only place in this world where you can truly be yourself. it’s not just indulgence, nor tolerance, but it’s pure unadulterated acceptance.

and maybe it’s because of that realization, that flipped switch, that in the lull of your conversation with simon, you bring it up.

“did you know? my friends think that you’re my sugar daddy.”

you feel him freeze, body going rigid as your words spill into the space between you two. you continue to hide your face away from, avoiding a serious conversation as regret begins to build, shame licking up from your fingertips to your ears.

stupid, you think to yourself. why the hell did i bring it up? fuck—

then, simon laughs, soft and sputtering, his whole body shaking as he giggles, choked wheezes uncontainable. you tip your head up just enough to catch his eyes, questions filling your tongue, waiting to be spilled, but simon cups your cheek so tenderly before you could doubt anything any more.

“do i need to be one to spoil you rotten?” he asks like he didn’t just shaken the foundations of your doubts.

do i need to be one to spoil you rotten, he said like spoiling you was the norm. like showering you with expensive gifts and booking you expensive flights and helping you with your expensive necessities was something that boyfriends typically do. like your friends are the odd ones for thinking he had to be anything other the man you’re dating to be able to splurge for you.

“no,” you say, dizzy with the weight of your affections.

simon’s smile droops, his eyes clearing. “was that something that honestly worried you?”

“i–”

the humour leaves him, and simon straightens up at seeing the gravity of the turmoil in your heart. his hands fall to your sides, thumbs hooked in the dip of your hips. he leans forward until his nose is brushing against yours.

“you know i love you, right?” simon asks, his voice quaking in desperation.

“yeah,” you sniffle, honest because god you mean it. “yeah, si. i know.”

“okay,” he says after a while, still intensely looking at you like you aren’t surely anything but a blob in his eyes with how close you two are pressed to each other.

then, his lips brush with yours, so faint, you almost missed it. you shudder at the feeling of it—how could a chaste kiss feel so intense?—your lips wobbling as something in your heart bloats.

you feel simon’s lips stretch into a grin from where they’re ghosting above yours, and then he’s kissing you again, this time deeper and longer. you curl your arms around his neck, feeling like you’re being swept off your feet all over again.

because simon is not good with words, truly, but he’s managed to swing an axe to the cornerstone of your self-doubt and made it crumble.

.

“oh god,” jo sobs in your arms, the two of you snuggled up under your sheets. “that was a joke! i promise!”

“i know,” you say, giggling. “i swear jo, it’s not you, it’s me.”

she looks up at you, eyes shimmering with tears. “are you sure?”

“yeah,” you croon, bumping foreheads with her. “...‘sides, simon’s taking me somewhere to make up for, and i quote, ‘making you doubt how serious i am about you’.”

she sniffs. “…permission to make a joke again?”

you grab your plushie from somewhere behind you and smack her ass with it.

“ow!”

“stop being dramatic—that didn’t hurt.”

[giggles nervously] so uh. 🏃🏻

[puckinghischier]

Fallen

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: part 2 to falling

notes: hello!!! considering it’s after midnight, i’m giving you guys a gift for my birthday. this was very fun to write and i continue to just make myself sad that i don’t have a nico in my life. i hope you enjoy! happy reading! 🫶🏼

this is unedited!!

request: anon requested a part 2 to falling

[4.9k]

“I really wish you’d let me carry something, Neeks,” you whine out, pressing the button to call the elevator down to the parking garage.

“Nope. I’m perfectly capable of carrying your groceries on my own,” Nico dramatically swings the reusable shopping bags over his shoulder, walking a few feet away before turning and striking a pose.

Your laugh echoes around the concrete garage, amused at his theatrics.

It’s been about three weeks since your accident at the rink, and Nico hasn’t left your side since. As long as he’s in Jersey, that is.

After that first night he’s only really left your apartment to either go to practice and games, or to sleep. Sometimes even the latter not being true, considering there’s been a few nights he’s crashed on your couch after late-night movie sessions or particularly rough games.

During your follow up appointment your doctor told you to keep the sling on for a few more weeks, not wanting to add any unnecessary strain to the healing muscles in your shoulder. After you told Nico the sling was here to stay, he insisted he was going to, literally, be your right-hand man.

You were also told, as long as you and the sling are one, going to work is on your list of restricted activities. So is any form of strenuous activity, lifting anything over ten pounds, and whatever else Nico deems unsafe for you to do. Like carrying your groceries.

Nico has shown up at your apartment every morning with a cup of coffee, either bringing you breakfast or offering to cook for you. He takes his post-practice and pre-game naps on your couch in case you need him to do anything for you. After home games he shows up with takeout and candy, keeping you company while you’re stuck in your apartment day after day.

When he’s on the road he enlisted the help of Jesper’s girlfriend, Nicole, to come over and check on you at least once a day. Anytime he’s playing in a different state, no matter where he is, he always manages to have dinner delivered to your house, making sure you’re not stuck eating microwave meals and simple dinners, thanks to your limited cooking ability and lack of being able to drive at the moment.

Before he has to leave for stretch of away games, he always makes sure he takes you to the grocery store, stocking your pantry and fridge to make sure you have everything you need while he’s gone. He calls you every chance he has on the road, wanting to check on you and how you’re feeling while keeping you up on the team happenings, knowing how eager you are to get back to work.

Today is one of his ‘preparation’ days, as you’ve dubbed them. He showed up this morning with a coffee and a bagel, cut into quarters instead of in halves, so the insides wouldn’t slip out of the other side when you tried to take a one-handed bite. He did your dishes and folded your laundry for you while you showered, twisting your hair into one of his trademark braids after you were dressed before ushering you out of your apartment, claiming the two of you had errands to run.

The first errand on his list was taking you to the rink, a satisfied feeling settling over him when he saw the large smile on your face when he told you he asked if you could sit in on practice today. You were practically buzzing with excitement, not having been at the rink since the day of your fall. You had grown to love the sport of hockey during your time at your job. Missing the chill of the air, the sound of pucks sliding across the ice and the scrape of their skates as the players come to a stop.

Several of the players slide over to the bench where you sit, just as excited to see you as you are to see them.

Jack and Luke come over first, telling you how ready they are for you to be back, having given themselves the job of Puck Police, ensuring that all of the pucks are cleared out of the skate path leading towards the benches.

Jesper, Timo, and Holtzy tell you how much they miss the jokes you would tell them so they would quit mean mugging and actually smile during arrival pictures.

Dawson, Johnny, and Curtis joined the gathered group, bringing you a card that everyone from the team had signed. It was a giant novelty card, clearly custom made, considering there was a picture of the whole team on the front, the inside reading “Sorry you fell over our pucks. We feel really pucking bad about it.”

You were doubled over in laughter the entire time the team spent chatting with you before their practice officially started, fulling understanding the sentiment that laughter is the best medicine. You were even able to give the young girl filling in for you some pointers, helping her adjust the settings on the camera for different shots, happy you were able to sneak in a little bit of work to your visit.

After practice was over and Nico was showered and ready to go, the two of you went out for lunch at a small café just down the street from the rink, their large bakery selection immediately catching your eye. You ended up having cake for lunch, telling Nico to mind his own business when he asked if you wanted any ‘real’ food.

Once lunch was over, he took you to the grocery store, helping you pick out ready made meals and a few other essentials before bringing you back to your apartment, where you were currently witnessing Nico’s wannabe model moves.

Once the elevator lifts you to your floor, you walk over and unlock your door, leaving it open behind you for Nico to walk through, following you straight to your kitchen to put away your groceries.

You grab a box of cereal, setting it down on the counter before reaching up to open your cabinet door. Just as you’re reaching up to place the box on the shelf, you hear something fall, a bottle of water slipping off of one of the shelves in your fridge. You jump slightly, trying to turn your body at the same time, the sudden movement pinching one of the nerves in your shoulder, causing you to let out a hiss.

Nico immediately clocked the displeased noise, jerking his body into a standing position and walking over towards you.

“Are you okay? What happened? Did you try to lift this up with your bad arm?” he asks you, arms hovering around your frame, eyes glued your slinged shoulder.

You finish pushing the cardboard box onto the shelf, closing the wooden cabinet door.

Rolling your arm a bit, you turn to face Nico.

“I’m fine. Just jumped a little and it caught my shoulder in a funny way, I guess. No big deal, just more uncomfortable than anything,” you assure him.

He narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge if you’re lying to him or not.

Narrowing your eyes back at him, you pull a face at him.

He backs up, laughing, seemingly convinced you’re fine.

Walking back over to finish placing the several salad kits you bought in the fridge, Nico starts talking with his head fully inside of your fridge.

“So, we leave out around six tonight and I won’t be back until late Friday night,” he tells you, meaning he’ll be gone almost four full days, considering today is Monday. “Nicole offered to stay over here if you wanted her to, incase you needed to go anywhere.”

You’ve gained a friend in Nicole through this whole process, enjoying her company. You didn’t have many girl friends in the city, your job taking up the majority of your time. Nico was the person you spent the most time with, even before these past few weeks, but you occasionally tagged along to outings with the team, growing close to Jack, Luke, Timo, and Jesper, too. You figure that’s why Nico chose to ask Nicole to help out, seeing as you’d spent some time with her during celebratory bar nights and get togethers at Nico’s apartment.

The two of you were friendly before, but now you would consider yourself good friends, going out to lunch together and watching bad reality tv during the day when she would come over. She even helped you do your skincare routine one night before bed, giving you different tips and tricks on the order of application. It felt like you were in middle school again having a sleepover with your best friend.

“I might take her up on that. I think there’s new episodes of The Circle on Netflix. We could binge them while eating ice cream!” your eyes light up with an idea.

Nico laughs and shakes his head at you while shutting your fridge door.

“I really don’t understand your obsession with these awful shows. Jesper and I were talking about how we wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you signed up for your own spot on one soon.”

The thought of Nico talking about you when Jesper is talking about Nicole makes your brain stutter for a moment.

You can’t deny that your new found feelings for Nico have continued to develop during the time he’s spent being your self-appointed helper. His insistence on being your personal chauffer, showing up every day like clockwork, even going as far to tell the media team the alternate captains are going to have to do post-game media for home games until you’re back to work causes your feelings to grow each day.

You haven’t told your mom about the arrangement with Nico, not wanting to get her hopes up, still not entirely convinced Nico isn’t just being nice. The two of you haven’t shared any intense moments like the first night he braided your hair, now the braiding sessions being filled with small talk and laughter.

Hearing that Nico is bringing you up when Jesper is talking about his own girlfriend, however, sparks a seed of hope in you.

“And if we do, you and Jesper can be our cheerleaders from the other side,” you tell him, sticking your tongue out.

When Nico finishes putting away the rest of your groceries, he takes the reusable bag and returns it to its hiding spot under the sink.

At this point, Nico knows your apartment as well as you do. He knows where all of your dishes go, because he unloads your dishwasher and washes anything by hand that won’t fit. He knows where all of your clothes go in your room, helping you wash, fold, and put away your laundry – with the exception of your underwear, he hasn’t earned access to that drawer yet. He knows where everything in your bathroom is, having to take a shower one morning after he crashed on the couch. He even knows which junk drawer has which random items in it.

You’ve become so comfortable with Nico being here, it’s like a tiny part of you doesn’t want your arm to heal, just so he has to continue coming over and playing roommate.

Nico walks over and leans against your stove, facing you.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine while I’m gone? It’s the longest stretch of away games we’ve had since your fall.”

He looks genuinely worried, the thought causing a familiar swirl in your belly.

“I’ll be fine, Neeks. This thing comes off next week anyways,” you lift the arm in your sling for emphasis. “I’m going to have to get used to you being gone again, anyways. This week will be like a practice run.”

You catch the way Nico’s eyes just slightly fall. If you weren’t always paying attention to his beautiful eyes, you would’ve missed it, perking up just as quickly as they fell.

“God, finally. Thought I’d have to be your maid forever,” he exaggerates his words, making a big show of rolling his eyes and throwing his arms up above his head.

“Oh shut it, you love hanging out with me,” you step towards him, wagging your finger in his face.

He tilts his head, pretending to think about your words. “Yeah, I guess you’re pretty good company,” he reaches out, grabbing the finger a few inches from his nose.

The two of you stand there, his hand not letting go of your finger, letting it drop in-between your bodies.

His lips fall from his wide smile, slightly separated as he stares at you.

Feeling the energy shift, you stare back at him, not knowing what exactly is happening. Neither one of you have spoken for a solid minute now, your finger still trapped in his hand.

Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, and back up to his eyes. He darts his tongue out to lick his dry lips, unable to move your gaze from them this time. Thinking about what his lips would feel like on yours, the alarm bells start going off in your head.

Clearing your throat and stepping back, you break the moment, not knowing what else to do.

Nico drops your finger, bringing a hand up to run through his long hair, looking away from your face.

Was he thinking about kissing you like you were thinking about kissing him? Would you have really let him? Why did you interrupt the moment? You like him you idiot!

When Nico pushes himself off of your stove, you start ignoring the voice in your head.

“I need to get going. Still need to stop by my place and grab a few things before heading to the rink,” he says, still refusing to meet your eye. “I’ll, uh, call you when we get there, like usual, okay?”

Nodding at him you reply with a “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Alright. Good. I’ll see you in a few days?” he walks over to you, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to give you a hug, but doesn’t know if he should.

You eliminate the space between you, wrapping him up in a hug. “Sounds perfect. Play safe.”

He hugs your body to his for a few more moments before letting go, a small “Bye” leaving his mouth before he grabs his keys off of your kitchen table and exits your apartment with a wave.

You stand in your kitchen thinking about your interaction, deciding a phone call to your mother was needed.

———————————————————————————

Grabbing the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, you walk back over to your living room and plop down next to Nicole.

Tonight was the night the boys are supposed to be getting back from their road trip. Since they weren’t supposed to be getting back until late tonight, you decided to spend the evening watching some of your favorite rom coms to pass the time.

Nicole always said waiting for Jesper to get home on the day of was the worst, because she knows its so close but the time always seems to drag. You surprisingly understood, the past week feeling like the longest of your life without Nico’s presence around your apartment.

After your phone call with your mom the other night, you allowed yourself to realize you want to be with Nico. Your confession to her that you did actually have feelings for the hockey player earned a squeal of joy and an extremely enthusiastic “I told you so!”

Talking with your mom about his actions throughout your whole accident and healing process really opened your eyes to how long you’ve really had feelings for him. You weren’t completely blind, finding Nico attractive from the very beginning, but you hadn’t really let yourself go all the way. Preventing yourself from getting your hopes up and embarrassing yourself, you kept using the excuse of him just being nice to justify why there were no feelings involved in your friendship.

You realized what a load of bullshit that was, though, considering how often you found yourself calling him to tell him good news whenever you received any. Or wanting to have a movie night anytime you were upset or sad, knowing your mood would improve the second Nico walked through your door. Or all the times at the bar when you would ignore men’s advances, wanting to just spend time talking with Nico the whole night.

Your mom recounted all the times she knew, once again marking that first time he helped you on the ice as the moment. She’s still not able to convince you that it was then, considering you and Nico didn’t even really know each other then.

Thinking back on your phone call with your mom made you think about how you hadn’t heard from Nico in a while, pulling your phone out to see if he had given you any update on where they were.

Nicole threw a handful of popcorn at you, fussing at you to pay attention to the movie and that they’ll be home when they’re home. You surrendered to her wishes and placed your phone face down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your third movie of the night was about halfway over when you heard a key turning in the lock on your door, knowing that only one other person had a key to your apartment.

You grab the remote and pause the movie, turning your body to face behind your couch, waiting for Nico to walk around the corner.

As he rounds the corner, suitcase in hand, you can’t help the grin that breaks out on your face.

“You’re back!” you exclaim, fighting the urge to leap off of the couch and crush him in a hug.

“I’m tired,” he responds, his smile bright but eyes tired.

The dark skin under his eyes confirm his words, assuming he had been asleep on the plane until they landed.

“Well, I guess that means I need to get home to Jesp,” Nicole says, sitting up and grabbing her shoes.

Nico looks over, mumbling out a “Good to see you Nicole, thanks for keeping her company this week,” before looking over at you, yawning as he told you he was going to take a quick shower then crash on your couch.

You give him a nod, telling him the stuff he bought last time was still in there.

Nicole gives the two of you a look, waiting until she hears the bathroom door shut to speak up.

“He keeps shower stuff here?”

Looking over at her you explain the time he fell asleep here and needed to shower that morning, stating you had too many expensive looking products to waste on himself, so he bought his own shower essentials and uses them anytime he decides to shower here after practice.

“So let me get this straight. He comes home to your apartment after a long road series, keeps his own products in your shower, has a key, and stays the night sometimes?” she watches you nod, her words not sinking in. “So, he does all of this, but the two of you still claim you’re just friends?”

Not knowing how to respond, you just stare at her. She keeps looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“Well…I mean…I don’t know,” you finally spit out.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she questions.

“I mean, there’s little moments here and there that lets me think we could be more than friends, but I don’t want to bring it up because what if he’s just being nice? What if he agrees that we’re really just friends?” you open up to Nicole, the only other person you’re able to talk about this with being your mom.

She scoffs at you. “Are you kidding me? What kind of moments? Because from where Jesper and I are sitting, we keep expecting you guys to make it official any day now.”

Your cheeks heat at her words. “Well, like the fact I never even had to ask him to do all of this stuff for me, he just did. And he admitted that he drove all the way to the hospital the night I got hurt because no one had any updates, then drove here with no socks on when they told him I had already come home. He keeps getting all of these restaurants to cut my food up in weird ways so it’s easier for me to eat with one hand. And if they don’t do it, he will,” you keep rambling, not focusing on your surroundings enough to hear the shower shut off. “I mean, he offered me skating lessons when he saw me stumble on the ice once, then started coming over for dinner multiple times a week, unless they’re on the road.”

Nicole looks past you down the short hallway, noticing the light shining through the open bathroom door.

You keep talking. “The biggest one, though, is that I think we almost kissed before they left on Monday,” you tell her, causing Nicole’s eyebrows to shoot up.

“SPILL,” Nicole insists, her interest at an all time high.

“Well, we were standing in my kitchen just goofing off and I stuck my finger in his face. He grabbed it and wouldn’t let go, then we just kind of started staring at each other. Before I knew what was happening, I was staring at his lips and he was staring at mine, then I got nervous and stepped back before anything could happen,” you tell her with a shrug.

Nicole groans. “Are you serious!? You could have kissed him and you chickened out? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know! I was thinking ‘what if I just have something on my face and he doesn’t actually want to kiss me.’”

She shakes her head at you. Movement down the hallway catches her eye, watching Nico step out of the small bathroom, and idea forming.

“I mean, you do like him, right?” She watches Nico’s figure stop in his tracks.

You sigh at her, letting your head sag a bit.

“Of course I like Nico. He’s kind, funny, takes care of me,” you start, a dreamy tone making its way into your voice. “Not to mention he’s insanely attractive. I just…don’t want to mess things up.”

Nicole flits her eyes over to Nico while you’re not paying attention, watching his face morph into shock.

“Y/N, the only way you’re going to be able to know if he feels the same way or not is to tell him. Forget about making a fool of yourself. Nico won’t shun you if he doesn’t feel the same way, he’s not that kind of guy,” she assures you.

“I know, Nic. But how do I even bring it up? How do I find the right time to slide ‘hey, so I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, let me know if you feel the same!’” You pull a thumbs up at her, pulling a sarcastic face.

Nicole smirks at you, confusing you until she says “Just like that,” before pointing behind you to a freshly showered Nico standing in the hallway, having heard every word you just said.

You turn around, snapping your head back towards Nicole when you see Nico. You don’t move, too petrified with the fact he just heard you say you were in love with him.

“Y/N, is that true?” Nico calls out, cautiously walking towards your couch.

Nicole stands, claiming it was time for her to go before she hastily made her exit.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, trying to pull off the ‘if I can’t see them, they can’t see me,’ move.

“Is what you just told Nicole true? You’re in love with me?” you hear from in front of you now, feeling the couch dip.

You refuse to open your eyes, wanting to disappear into thin air. When Nico reaches his hand out, grabbing your non-slinged hand in his own, your eyes snap open.

He’s looking at you with an expression in his eyes you’ve only ever seen a few times before. Once when you wore his jersey for opposites day at work, handing him your camera to tote around all day as you, very poorly, skated around the ice, trying to scoot a puck around. The second was when you surprised him with a pan of brownies for his birthday, knowing how much he loves the chocolatey squares. The third was when he braided your hair for the first time, recognizing the softness of his eyes through the mirror. The most recent, aside from right now, was earlier this week, during the same moment you just described to Nicole.

“I…” you try to speak, but you’re still stuck in shock.

Nico chuckles and drops his head, looking at your hand in his.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, too?” he repeats your words, looking up and into your eyes as he says them.

Your mouth snaps shut, a new kind of shock entering your system.

“I think I have been since that first time Jack almost took you out on the ice,” he starts. “I had seen you before, but we only really spoke when you were telling me how to pose for pictures. Or making me smile for arrival pictures,” he reminisces, a fond smile on his face. “I always thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but I knew I had to get you to talk to me somehow, the skating lessons being my perfect in,” he tells you, squeezing your hand.

You can’t believe your mother was right. The lessons were a calculated move for Nico to establish himself in your life.

Nico keeps talking, pulling you from the realization. “The more we spent time together, the more I realized I wanted you to be more than just my pretty coworker I taught how to ice skate. So, when you offered the dinners after lessons, I jumped. I was hoping it was your way of telling me you had feelings for me, too, but when you kept telling your mom we were just friends, I figured I could wait it out a little longer,” he references all the times you complained about your mom jumping to conclusions. “I kept lying in wait, trying to find the perfect moment to make my move, and then you got hurt. I was so worried when they told me you fell and they had to take you to the hospital. Got scared it was my fault, that I told you the wrong thing during a skating lesson, or I pushed you to skate on your own before you were ready,” he starts rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand.

“When I realized you would need major help while your arm was in that sling, not even being able to brush your hair by yourself, I knew this is where I could tell you. Maybe bring it up when I was braiding your hair, or slip a note in your bagel bag one morning. Hell, I even thought about spelling it out with sushi pieces that first night, but figured that might be a bit tacky,” you laughed at his words, remembering wondering what was taking him so long to bring your food to you. “But then, every time I thought about it, I chickened out. The closest I ever got was the moment in your kitchen, every muscle in my body screaming at me to just lean in and kiss you,” your laugh is cut short at his confession. “When you pulled back before I could, I assumed you didn’t feel the same way, so I left. I was embarrassed, not wanting to sit in the rejection any longer. But this week, being away for so long after spending nearly every day with you for the past three weeks, I knew I had to tell you.”

You’re glad he was as affected by not being around you this week as you were, not feeling as pathetic anymore.

“Was going to tell you when I walked through the door actually, but then I saw Nicole here and didn’t want to do it in front of her. That worked out great, didn’t it?” he laughs at the situation, Nicole clearly having different plans.

You scoff out a “Yeah, clearly, considering she railroaded me without me even knowing.”

“Well, I’m very glad she did, because now I can stop talking about you like a lovesick puppy to them,” Nico tells you, confirming your earlier feeling that Nico brings you up during ‘girlfriend talk’.

“My mom is so totally going to freak out when I tell her we’re dating,” you tell him, stopping yourself. “We are dating, right?”

Nico laughs as he brings his hands up to cup your face, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips as soft as you imagined they were. He keeps the kiss light and sweet before pulling back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” your cheeks flush, earning another laugh from the man in front of you.

“C’mon, I’m tired and would love to sleep in an actual bed tonight. We can talk details tomorrow, girlfriend,” he emphasizes the word. “Right now, I need cuddles and sleep,” he stands, holding his hand out for you to grab as you stand, leading you down the hallway towards your bedroom.

Thinking back to what lead you to this moment, you giggle quietly to yourself, finding it a little comical that it took you literally falling on the ice and injuring yourself to realize you’d already fallen there once before.

[oneforthemunny]

home is wherever i'm with you |hockey player!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: life on the road during hockey season is far less glamorous than you thought it would be. homesick and lonely, eddie tries to get you feeling better.

also special thank you to @angietherose for the name of the au hockey team :) eddie is officially on the indy reapers! thank you to all who voted as well!

contains: fluff, but there is slight angst at the beginning. mentions of loneliness, a little depression. slight-ish tension or strain on the relationship, but you know i make it happy at the end lol. language.

Pasadena, California - 1993 

Day seventeen on your six week excursion with Eddie. Well, excursion was a generous thing to call what this was. You were feeling more like a groupie for the Indianapolis Reapers, a puck bunny as Eddie’s teammates snickered, brows raised in suggest when they’d pass jersey clad girls lingering around their buses. Stop after stop- press, practice, training, games, all over the nation. 

A suitcase full of clothes you’d grown sick of already, longing to go home and trade them for something different, washing them in the sharp, sterile detergent of the hotels. You longed for your own sheets, perfumed with your own detergent. 

Eddie was gone for most of the day. You tried to sightsee on your own, explore the cities but it was lonely, lacking someone to giggle with over lattes, to hold your hand in the street, just to talk to. The other WAGS that came along, stuck out the long haul across the states, clung to each other, comfortable in their own little clique. You were too new, an outsider to their group. 

“Hey, babe,” Eddie pressed the key into the lock, twisting the heavy latch open. “Babe, do you have that stuff? Did you bring it?” He hummed, dropping his bag at the door, kicking off his sneakers. 

His nose curled at the pungent smell, ripe from the warming weather of California. “Jesus Christ, I gotta wash this stuff. I’m sorry, I’ll put it in the laundry thing.” Eddie hummed, sliding the slotted closet door open. “Can’t believe how warm it is here already. Feels so nice outside. You’ve been outside today, sweetheart?” He rambled, sweetly, tossing the powdered detergent into the washer, shoving the workout clothes from his bag into the tiny machine. 

The steady hum of the air conditioner filled the room, his only response. Eddie’s brows lifted, jamming the button of the washer, sliding the door back into place. He didn’t remember hearing you say you were leaving today, but he had taken a pretty hard hit to the glass during practice, ears still ringing dully. 

“Baby?” Eddie called, opening the bathroom door, empty of you other than the scattered products on the vanity. Heavy steps on the patterned carpet, Eddie walked into the bedroom suite, halting at the edge of the crumpled sheets. 

You laid on your side, still in what he’d left you in that morning, eyes puffy and red rimmed looking motionlessly out the window. “Hey, I thought you- I was, uh, I was just talking but-” Eddie’s heart beat in his throat, uneasy at the sight of you, crumpled in the sheets. “Are you ok?” 

You turned, cheek still pressed to your arms under the pillow, just enough to see him- all wild curls, matted and frizzy with helmet hair. “Yeah,” You croaked, throat scratchy and sore with sobs that had stilled hours ago, still you were plagued with the aftershocks of weeks of suppressed emotion. 

“I- I’m not trying to sound like a dick or anything here, but you’re clearly not.” Eddie said softly, slowly approaching the bed. The bed dipped under his weight, a warm hand rubbing over your ankle under the cool sheets. 

“Baby,” Your face crumpled at the coo, so sweet, gentle, it made your nose burn. “What’s goin’ on?” Eddie muttered, thumb circling your ankle bone gently. 

Your nose burned with a slow, shaky exhale that he felt, rattled all the way down your body under his touch. Eddie’s heart dropped. “Hey, look at me.” Eddie’s voice was softened but sharp, teetering on frantic. You turned, looking at his wide eyes, running over your frame in worry. “What’s goin’ on? What’s the matter?” 

Your lip wobbled, head screaming words you couldn’t bring yourself to say- you didn’t know how to say. “I just-” You took a breath, chest stuttering. “I don’t… feel good.” 

Eddie’s brows creased, crawling up the bed beside you. “Don’t feel good, like, sick?” He muttered, the back of his hand pressing to your palm. “You don’t feel hot t’me. What hurts? Is it your head still? I told you, baby, that hippie dippie shit only works so much. You have to take medicine-” 

“-No,” You shook your head, eyes squeezing tightly to keep your tears at bay. “It’s-it’s not that.” 

Eddie blinked carefully. “What? Is it, like, the time of the month? D’ya need me to go get some stuff for you? You know I don’t mind to. Not a problem for me, baby, just tell me what you need.” Eddie’s head tilted to the side, so sweet and doting, it made your chest heat with swarming guilt and adoration. 

“I’m not on my period. It’s nothing, Ed.” You shook your head, curling back into your pillow. 

Eddie stilled above you. “Are- Are you pregnant?” He whispered. 

“No.” You groaned quickly, head shaking into the warmth of the pillows. 

Eddie sighed lightly, a huff of relief that fell short, when your body turned from him, back towards the window with a long inhale. “Hey, can you- can you look at me? Please? Look at me, baby.” Eddie’s pitch raised, teetering towards scared, his hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently so you rolled on your back. 

He hovered over you, curls falling down nearly brushing your cheeks. “Tell me what’s going on. Please? Tell me what’s wrong.” Eddie whispered, nearly a beg. “You don’t feel good? You don’t feel good here?” His throat swelled, tight with fear. “With me?” 

Your silence had Eddie’s stomach twisting, dropping with fear, bile rising in the back of his throat- he was going to be sick, he was sure he would be. 

“No,” You muttered, head shaking lightly under the pillow. “Not with you, just,” You reached up, nervously twirling his curl around your finger. “Just with this.” 

Eddie swallowed, willing himself still, calm, though his heart felt like it might give out. “This? Wh-What do you mean this?” Eddie’s voice shook. 

You blinked up at him, eyes rounding in a sad softness he hadn’t seen before. “I just… I miss being home.” You whispered, eyes glossing with a fresh wave of tears that pricked your waterline. “I miss seeing my friends, and being in my own bed, a-and even work. I just,” Your breath hitched, lip trembling. “I’m just really lonely.” 

Eddie was sure his heart did give out, break right in his chest, sunk right to the pit of his stomach. “Do you- You wanna go home?” Eddie’s hand ran down your cheek gently. “That’s what you want? That would make you feel better?” 

Your face crumbled, caved into itself at his tone. “I-I don’t know.” You admitted, eyes squeezed shut to keep the tears in. “I don’t want to leave you, b-but I don’t-” You pressed your palms to your eyes, taking a slow inhale through your nose. “I just don’t want to be alone so much. A-And I know that’s not your fault. I know you’re working.” 

When your eyes did meet his, Eddie wished they’d stayed closed, heartbreakingly sad, vacant of that light that usually shone through, brightening anything cast in your gaze. “I just… I’m feeling homesick, ‘m sorry.” You muttered. “I just really miss home, and I’m having a bad day.” 

“You don’t- Don’t apologize.” Eddie shook his head. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were feelin’ like this.” Eddie swallowed, pulling you up gently. Your body was slack, limp with unmotivated movement, but still, you settled into his arms. The tension in your body melted, nose buried in the material of his shirt, lathered in cologne and the hot California air. 

“I have a half day tomorrow.” Eddie muttered, his heart beating fast, you could hear it, feel it. His hand smoothed up your back. “We’ll do something. Go exploring and stuff. Do some fun stuff.” 

“You’re ‘sposed to rest.” You muttered, cheek squished to his chest. “It’s before your game, you’re supposed to be resting.” 

“Yeah, but that is resting.” Eddie shook his head gently. “I’ll be alright. Promise. Played after way worse. Me and Josh used to come in hungover, vomited on the ice one time.” Eddie’s chest rumbled with soft laughter. “Pretty sure we’re the reason that rule’s in place now.” 

Your lips curled, even through your sullen, dazed mood, you couldn’t help it. Clinging to him tighter, you moved into his touch. “Coach just means take it easy like, don’t go get fucked up and actually sleep the night before.” Eddie muttered, chin tucking down onto your head. “C’mon, lemme take you out tomorrow. Me and you. Go anywhere you want.” 

You didn’t reply. Instead, sighed gently, settling into his hold. 

Eddie was restless through all of morning practice, hands buzzing, ready to run to the rental car at the first dismissal. Shower be damned, he’d take a quick one at the hotel, he couldn’t be held up any longer. 

“What’s goin’ on with you, Munson?” Elijah muttered, next to Eddie in the huddle on the ice, the coach’s droning about protocol for the game. 

“Nothin’.” Eddie whispered back, twisting his stick in his hands. “Just wish he’d fuckin’ hurry up.” 

Elijah’s eyes cut to Eddie, snorting lightly. “You got somewhere to be?” 

“Yeah, I do actually.” Eddie sighed out. “Gotta get back. Promised my girl I’d take her out.” 

Elijah’s brows raised. “Shit, you brought her with you?” 

Eddie’s shoulders tensed. “She wanted to come.” He muttered defensively. “I mean, she wanted to. Now it’s kinda fucked, she’s-” Eddie’s eyes cut around him. “She’s kinda homesick.” 

Elijah nodded slowly. “Yeah, that happens.” He fought back a smile. “When’s the last time you took her out?” 

Eddie’s eyes cut to him, defensive with accusation. “It’s not like that. I take her out.” 

“Yeah? On the off day? After we’ve traveled all day?” Elijah snorted, shaking his head. “C’mon, Munson. Believe me, that doesn’t count.” 

Eddie ignored him, gripping his stick with furious annoyance. The fuck did he know? He didn’t know anything. 

“Look, I’m not tryna piss you off. I did it, too. Just- believe me, alright? That one day shit doesn’t work.” Elijah pressed gently. 

“Hey, I got it, alright? I’m good.” Eddie growled. 

Elijah held his hands up in defense. “Alright, I’m just saying, when it was me,” He started. “I wasn’t meaning to. I just wasn't used to it. Had my own road routine and tried to fit her around it instead of into it. Thought it was going good until it wasn’t.” 

Eddie stilled, silent but shoulders slumping lightly. “You gotta change your routine, find a way to fit her into it. She’s on the road too, not just you.” Elijah continued. 

The coach whistled, waving them in dismissal. Eddie blinked, pulled out of his daze, lifting his helmet and stick with him. Elijah nodded at him. “Have fun tonight, Munson.” He smiled softly. “Make sure you take her somewhere nice.” 

Elijah’s words rang in Eddie’s head all the way back to the hotel, only a short drive from the arena. Eddie nearly threw his keys at the valet, sliding into the elevator shamelessly, bouncing on the balls of his toes until he reached your floor. 

You startled when he came in, sitting at the vanity, doing your makeup. “You’re done already?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie muttered, ducking down for a kiss. “Just gotta shower real quick, but are you hungry?” He shimmied his workout sweats onto the floor, kicking his socks off with them. 

Your eyes lingered over his bare lower half for a second, turning back to paint your mascara on. “I’m not starving.” You mumbled. 

“Alright, good, I was gonna see if we could go to this place. I think you’ll like it.” Eddie grinned over his shoulder at you, the hiss of the shower coming to life. “Some guys told me if you’re in Pasadena you gotta go here.” His smile so wide, eyes sparkling in the dim yellowed light of the hotel bathroom, it made your tummy tingle with warm excitement. 

“Promise you’re not looking?” Eddie mumbled, hands over your eyes, waddle-walking awkwardly behind you, pressed close to your back. 

“Swear I’m not.” You grinned. Eddie was right, it was beautiful outside. Warm and bright, light illuminating his hands that covered your eyes with a reddish glow. 

“I can feel you trying to. Your lashes are tickling me.” Eddie muttered, leaving you giggling. “Ok, just- you know what, this is good enough. I’m scared you’re gonna trip.” Eddie said, lips curling at your soft laugh. 

“Are you ready for your surprise?” You could hear Eddie’s grin in his voice, a breeze floating between the two of you. 

“Yes.” You giggled, Eddie’s chest swelling at the sound. “Just show me. Your hands are clammy. They’re gonna smear my mascara.” 

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie muttered sheepishly, a blush spilling on his cheeks, pulling his hands away so they were still in front of you. “Ok, ready?” 

“Eddie-” 

“-Sorry, Alright, one, two,” Eddie moved his hands, smiling proudly in front of you, a pinkish looking building behind you. “Here it is! Surprise!”

You blinked. “Oh.” You quipped softly. 

Eddie blinked, smile falling. “What? I thought you’d- You don’t like it?” 

“No,” You shook your head. “I mean, no, that’s- Where are we?” 

“Oh,” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Shit, I thought you’d know. Uh, apparently this place is supposed to be like the place for flowers, y’know? Pasadena has that flower festival thing, but it’s not until later and I know you like to go to the cool places, and-” Eddie motioned to the store behind him. 

You took in the building, spilling over with plants you could see from the inside. “I, uh, I know you miss home.” Eddie said softly. “And I was just thinking, y’know, we can’t get houseplants like at home, but maybe some bouquets? Some flowers for the hotel room.” 

Eddie waited a beat, desperately trying to read your face, eyes wandering over the building and the signs. “I thought maybe you’d pick out some flowers and-and it would make it feel like home.” Eddie’s hands slid down his jeans, hot from the sun beaming on them. “Plus, you wanted to see some around here, a-and y’know… one bird, two stones.” Eddie rambled, shrugging sheepishly. 

You felt the familiarity of a cry bubbling back in your chest, swelling and suffocation, only this time the aching of sadness was gone. In its place, a bubbling, burning feeling of adoration was left, consuming you from the inside out with every nervous glance Eddie gave you. He’d listened, really fucking listened. He always did, but this time it was different. Relief, comfort washing over you for the first time in days. 

It felt like home. 

Like the two of you were back in Hawkins, or Indianapolis even, perusing the usual spots, happy and content to be together in a familiar place. 

Eddie wasn’t expecting you to grab him, pull him into you with a fierce, sloppy kiss. Right there on the sidewalk, under the California sunshine. Lips melting into his, clawing and grabbing at his shirt, the back of his neck. Eddie’s cheeks burned bright when you pulled apart, a smile so wide and goofy it made you giggle. 

He let you grab his hand, lead him around the flower shop like a lost puppy, picking out anything and everything that made you smile. A bright bouquet spilling out beautifully in the green vase, made just for you. 

You sat it right on the small bedside table, beaming at how it livened up the room. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the flowers or you. Either way, it revived you, made you happier and giddier. Made the sheets of the hotel less cold when you slipped beneath them, legs tangled in his, pinning him under you onto the stiff mattress. It made the room brighter, spilling with a new fragrance that felt familiar. 

It was small, a miniscule way that meant the world to you; made you feel at home. Eddie knew it, planning how he’d do it with every next city, until you finally got back home.

[thefreakandthehair]

@steddie-week, day 3: discover.

When Steve is five years old, his mom catches him sneaking cookies before dinner. 

The jar is set up on top of the refrigerator, porcelain white in the shape of a teddy bear, and Steve isn’t supposed to be able to reach it. Unfortunately for the Harrington’s, their son is athletic and agile even as a child so of course, he discovers that if he slides a chair over to the counter, he can climb onto the beige laminate and reach the jar on his tippy toes. The head of the bear is removed easily, a cookie (or two) are snatched, and no one is the wiser. His devious heist comes to a halt one night after tee-ball practice when he thinks that his mom is in the shower. Steve ends up being caught with his hand literally in the cookie jar. 

It’s a story his mom tells at dinner parties and family gatherings throughout his childhood, over and over with the same details. Steve hears it enough to visualize what his face must’ve looked like— wide eyes, mouth ajar, eyebrows nearly touching his hairline, cheeks and ears turning pink. 

A few months into (finally) dating Eddie Munson, Steve finds his boyfriend standing in the living room mere feet from where Steve had tried to steal those cookies years ago wearing what he imagines is the exact same expression.

There’s no teddy bear-shaped cookie jar, but Eddie certainly looks caught: caught in a moment of jock euphoria, that is. 

When Steve gets home from his trip to Chicago with Robin a day early, he decides to surprise Eddie rather than call ahead and it may be the best decision he’s made in quite some time because Steve recognizes this sight intimately. 

Eddie’s in the middle of the room, bobbing around in front of the television with his hands threading through his hair and tugging in frustration as he yells things like:

“Are your blades dipped in fucking butter?”  “The puck goes in the net!”  "You can't shoot for shit, just like you can't grow a decent mustache, huh?" “Your job is to use your big ass body to stop the teensy tiny puck from getting around you and that’s a Hell of a lot easier if you stay in the fucking crease!” 

He stands in the doorway in shocked silence, watching in bemused wonder. Even in his crouched position, even as he scuttles from side to side with a phantom hockey stick in his hands with the only light in the room coming from the television screen, he's beautiful.

How long has this been going on though? In the years of friendship that eventually led to their relationship, Steve’s never known Eddie to give a single shit about any sort of organized sport that didn’t involve Steve specifically running around in what Eddie calls his "utterly obscene shorts." 

Hockey’s never been mentioned, not once, but Eddie knows too much to have randomly picked it up in just the two days Steve’s been gone. A ripple of something that feels like guilt washes over him, unsure of what he’s done to make Eddie feel like he needs to hide this from him. 

Long moments pass and Steve continues to go unnoticed when the game rolls into overtime. 

“I can’t take much more of this, Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie moans, his hands falling to his knees as he hunches over. 

Commentators flash up on the screen and Steve supposes intermission is as good a time as any to interject. 

“Would some company help?” 

Eddie whips to the right and there it is: wide eyes, mouth ajar, raised eyebrows, flaring nostrils, and the tell-tale darkening of Eddie’s cheeks. Steve only assumes his ears follow suit— they usually do when he’s flustered but Eddie’s hair blocks the view. His hand flies to his chest, startled on top of it all. 

The Bruins are going into overtime and his deepest, darkest secret was just unceremoniously discovered. 

It’s been a rough day. 

Steve just smiles and crosses the threshold into the room, standing next to his boyfriend who looks like all of the air has been vacuumed from his lungs. 

“You— you weren’t supposed to be home yet! You scared the shit of me, man!” 

“I was trying to surprise you but uh, joke’s on me I guess. Hockey, huh?” Steve gestures at the television with his chin. “Makes sense. It’s fuckin' lawless.” 

Eddie’s features settle into something less abashed and more defensive, his eyebrows knitting together and his head tilting to one side just a hair. 

“What makes sense? There was just nothing else on. It’s not a crime to flip through the channels, Steve.”

His lies are weak, and even under the best circumstances, the bar for Eddie’s ability to lie is on the floor so that's saying a lot. 

“It’s not, no. If it was, you’d probably be doing it,” he teases, nudging their shoulders together. “Besides, you wouldn’t know what the fuck a crease is if you were just casually flipping through.” 

“Wait, wait, shit. How long were you standing there?” 

“Long enough to find out you’ve been holding out on me, Munson.” Steve twists to face Eddie, pointing at the television. “We could’ve been going to games, screaming insults, calling plays together this whole time!”

Eddie groans, titling his head back to look at the ceiling. It’s been a long, long couple of days because even now, Steve can’t stop from staring at the expanse of Eddie’s throat, knowing exactly which spots make him groan for entirely different reasons. 

“Okay, fine. You caught me,” Eddie admits, still staring at the ceiling but turning his body away from Steve and waving his arms in defeat. “I’m a fraud. A hypocrite. I enjoy a sport. You cannot imagine how much it pains me to say this out loud.” 

“Ah, so we’re doing the dramatic thing about this?” Steve mutters, shaking his head. “Eddie, you’re allowed to like things. You know that, right? You liking a sport doesn’t, I don’t know, make you any less metal or whatever. Least I don’t think so.” 

Eddie drops his arms and spins around. “Steve, Stevie, my dear sweet sunshine, I’m not sure if you remember this but I’ve made quite a name and reputation for myself in abject hatred of mainstream… everything. My credibility is destroyed.”

Steve barely chokes back his laughter. Eddie’s sounding and acting more like his Eddie, something equally as endearing as it is ridiculous. He reaches out and pulls Eddie to sit next to him on the couch, not missing the way Eddie glances at the screen to make sure he’s not missing the start of overtime. 

“You know,” Steve starts before making air quotes, “a wise brat once told me that when you finish high school, it’s time to move on from primitive concepts like popularity. Or something like that, it was a while ago. Point is, what you staked your claim to in high school doesn’t apply here. You can be weird, and loud, and anti-mainstream, and like hockey. It’s the most violent of popular sports anyways.” 

Eddie blinks at him once, then twice, before narrowing his eyes and drawing his lips into a tight smile. “Was the wise brat Henderson? That sounds like Henderson.”

Steve laughs and leans back against the couch. “Sure was. Don’t tell him I quoted him, he’ll never shut the fuck up about it.” 

“What brought on a lecture about primitive high school concepts from Dustin Henderson?” 

“He was trying to convince me to date Robin when we were spying on what turned out to be evil Russians at Starcourt who had a lab under the mall. It was a whole thing.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly.

Eddie nods slowly. “Right, yeah, the mall that exploded?” 

“Yep. Same one.” 

“Y’know, I should’ve known you had something to do with that.” Eddie smiles at him, wide and bright, and it’s a strange moment for Steve to realize he’s in love. 

He’s wholly, unconditionally, disgustingly in love with Eddie Munson, with every side and facet, with every sparkling edge of the multifaceted prism of him. Steve’s entire body sighs with relief as his heart finally, finally catches up with the rest of him. 

But there’s an overtime period about to start, and unlike this playoff game, Steve knows he has all the time he could ever need to tell him, show him, exactly how he feels. He starts by cheering for a team he knows shit about, and then by rubbing Eddie’s back when he curls over onto his knees after the Devils score the winning shot.

“Hate to break it to ya, Ed, this is very jock behavior. Think there might be a little jock in you after all.” He jokes, running his hand from the middle of Eddie’s back to the nape of his neck, circling his thumb gently into the flesh there. 

“No the fuck there isn’t,” he mumbles, sitting up straight and turning devilish smile on Steve. “But I’d like there to be.” 

a very, very happy birthday to @hexiewrites! you know that I couldn't let your birthday pass without writing Eddie as a Bruins fan. and I peppered in some of our and @maxineholtzmann's comments and insults from the playoffs liveblogging on discord. <3 hope you have a phenomenal day!!

[birchleavesdawn]

Icy Improprieties

Kamimoto Kotone x M!Reader 2.5k Words Public ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gangneung Ice Arena

"I guess this is the place."

Today you made the trip all the way to Gangneung to meet up with your girlfriend Kotone, who had invited you to come watch Jiwoo's hockey game. It was a long way, but you had never been to Gangneung, nor attended a hockey game, so you figured it might be an interesting experience.

You approached the heavy steel doors at the front, using your weight to pull one open. You were greeted with a chilling blast of cold air. Kotone had warned you to dress warmly, but you were wondering if the sweater you had picked out would be enough.

The inside of the building was intimidatingly large, it somehow looked twice as big on the inside as it did outside, and with a surprising amount of people going about their business. You walked up the ramp towards the rink and had a look around from behind the glass that separated the ice from the fans, probably there to prevent people from getting hit with the puck. You scanned the stands for a minute before spotting Kotone directly on the other side of the arena, also standing down by the glass. You guessed she must have come in from the other door. She spotted you and waved excitedly. You made eye contact and smiled, waving back, before finding your way over to where she was standing.

"Ah, I'm so glad you could make it!" She exclaimed. "It's gonna be really fun, I promise."

"This is already pretty cool. You're gonna have to help me out though, I have no idea how hockey works."

She laughed. "I don't know all the ins and outs either, but Jiwoo explained the basics of it last time I was here and its pretty simple to follow... wait why are you looking at me like that?" She blushed when she noticed you staring at her while grinning ear to ear.

"Sorry you just look so adorable in that enormous coat. I can't help it."

She smiled and smacked your arm playfully. "Where's your coat? Didn't I tell you to dress warmly? I don't think that's going to cut it."

"Yea I guess I underestimated how cold it was actually going to be."

She unzipped her coat and held out her arms.

"Get in here, we'll share."

You happily obliged and slipped into the giant coat along with her, wrapping your arms around her back and hugging her close.

"Ah, this is great." You commented, resting your chin on the top of her head.

"I know, it's like a personal heater."

"No, I mean because I get to hug you. But also because I can do this and no one will notice."

You lowered your hands to her butt and cupped a cheek in each, giving them a firm squeeze.

She yelped. "What are you doing? Do you see how many people are around?!"

"Relax, they can't tell. No one's gonna know." You began kneading and groping the soft flesh through her sweatpants.

"H-Hey stop that, someone's going to see us."

You ignored her pleas and whispered into her ear.

"You have such a nice butt Kotone. I have no choice but to take advantage of the situation."

She giggled and buried her face, which was now beat red, in your chest. "You're an idiot."

"Oh look, it's starting, so everyone will be completely focused on the game now."

You continued your exploration of her body, reaching down the back of her sweatpants and panties to touch her directly. She stiffened and you felt her breath hitch.

"Mmm. What happened to "we can't do this"? Aren't you still worried about people seeing? You teased.

She didn't respond, instead she reached her hands around your back and gripped your sweater, pulling you as close to her as possible. Her head was still resting against your chest, with her face pointed towards to ice to make it look like she was actually watching. You continued to feel her up, now sliding a finger into her.

She moaned quietly. "I hate you."

"Don't worry, you'll get your turn to tease me. But right now it's my turn." You continued pumping the digit in and out of her backside, eliciting quiet moans and gasps. You added a second, causing her grip on your sweater to tighten and her breath to become heavier.

"I hope I'm not making it too difficult for you to follow the game." You said, slowly working one hand around to the front of her pants.

"You're the worst." She managed, through ragged breaths.

"And yet you still love me."

You found your way into the front of her panties, quickly locating her clit, already engorged and begging for attention.

"Oh my god..." She groaned, biting down on your sweater.

"Come on now, you need to keep your focus on the game if you don't want anyone to notice. The players are doing their best, it's rude not to watch." You said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Kotone was at a loss for words, the pleasure and embarrassment of being fingered in a crowded public place was quickly getting the better of her. The two fingers working at her backside had her legs trembling, while the deft fingers working away at her clit were threatening to cause her knees to give out.

You decided to pick up the pace a bit.

"Ah! F-Fuck..."

"Language Kotone." You warned, as you worked her closer to climax.

"I-I can't..."

"Shhh, be a good girl and stay quiet." You whispered.

She was panting now, her grip on your sweater turning her knuckles white. You could feel her whole body begin to shake as she was on the verge of orgasm.

"Just let it go, baby. Cum for me."

Her breath caught in her throat, her body went rigid, and her legs quivered as her climax washed over her. Her body slumped forward into yours as she tried to stifle the loud moan she let out, the only thing preventing her from collapsing was your tight grip on her.

You pulled your hands from her sweatpants and held her as the aftershocks of her orgasm subsided. She eventually managed to collect herself and stood up, looking up at you, still blushing madly.

"Come with me." She said between breaths. She released you from her embrace and took hold of your hand, leading you away from the rink.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private."

She led you to the bathroom, which thankfully was empty.

"Alright, I believe it's my turn now." She stated, pushing you backwards into the stall and locking the door behind her.

"What are you-"

"Shhhh. Just let it happen."

She reached up and pulled your head down, connecting her lips with yours in a passionate kiss.

You reciprocated, opening your mouth to allow her tongue access, which she took eagerly.

You felt her hands leave the sides of your face and drop to your waist, tugging at the hem of your sweater. She broke the kiss, leaving a strand of saliva hanging between you, and helped pull the sweater up and over your head. She hung it on the hook fastened to the back of the stall door and returned her lips to yours, her hands running over your exposed abdomen.

She kissed a trail from your mouth down to your neck, stopping to suck and nip at your sensitive skin. You ran a hand through her hair and let out a soft sigh, letting her know that you were enjoying yourself. She smiled against your neck, continuing down, until she reached the waistband of your pants. She knelt in front of you, dragging her tongue across your stomach.

"Kotone, what if someone comes in?"

"Please don't pretend like getting caught actually bothers you. I think we're way passed that." She replied, reaching for the button on your pants. She undid it, before tugging your pants and boxers down, allowing your rock hard cock to spring free.

"You've made quite a mess, haven't you?" She said, eyeing the precum that had accumulated on the head. She reached out and took it in her hand, spreading the sticky substance down your length. You let out a moan.

"Looks like you've enjoyed that almost as much as I did."

You looked down at her, your cheeks flushed, as she stroked you, before leaning in and pressing her tongue to the base of your shaft. She dragged her tongue up the entire length, causing you to shiver.

She swirled her tongue around the head, then opened her mouth and enveloped the tip, before taking you deeper. You reached out and took hold of her ponytail, guiding her, as she worked your shaft.

"As cute as you were in that coat, you look even more adorable with my dick in your mouth."

She looked up at you, your dick still in her mouth, and winked.

"Mmmm. You're such a good girl, Kotone. Your mouth feels amazing."

She moaned around your cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

She continued bobbing her head up and down, taking more and more of you in her mouth each time, until you hit the back of her throat. She pulled back, sucking hard and using her tongue to massage the underside.

You were getting close, you could feel the pressure building, as you gripped her hair tighter and pulled her deeper onto your cock.

"Fuck, Kotone, I'm close."

She picked up the pace, using one hand to stroke the base of your cock, while the other went down the front of her pants, rubbing her own pussy.

You groaned and held her head in place, as you shot a thick rope of cum down her throat, which she greedily swallowed. She pulled back and gasped for air, stroking your twitching member, coaxing out the rest, and catching it on her tongue.

You leaned back against the toilet and closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

Kotone stood up and removed her hand from her pants, shoving her fingers into your mouth.

You loved the way she tastes. You sucked her fingers clean, moaning as you did so.

"Mmm. Good boy." She said, withdrawing her fingers from your mouth.

She began removing her own clothes, kicking her shoes off, pulling her shirt and bra over her head, and pushing her sweatpants and panties down.

She hung her top and pants on the hook with your sweater, then put her panties over your face.

"Hold these for me, okay?"

You nodded and complied, savoring your favorite scent.

She leaned against the stall door, bracing her arms against it.

No words needed, you understood your instructions. You moved behind her, and grabbed her hips. She let out a quiet moan as you pressed your still erect cock against her ass.

"Come on, give it to me."

You rubbed your shaft along her a lips a few times, coating yourself in her juices. You aligned your tip with her slit, and pushed inside.

"Fuck yes."

You both let out a moan, as you hilted yourself in her, filling her completely.

You took a second to relish in the feeling, before beginning to thrust.

You built up a rhythm, pulling her back to meet each of your thrusts. She braced her hands on the door, biting her lip and moaning, as your cock slammed into her over and over again.

You reached around her and cupped her breast, kneading the soft flesh. She let out a squeak when you pinched her nipple.

You leaned down and bit her earlobe.

"You look so sexy from behind, especially when I'm completely buried in your tight pussy."

You sped up, causing her to gasp, as your member pounded into her, the sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room. Someone had almost certainly noticed what you were doing by now, but she was right, you really didn't care. It didn't seem like she cared anymore either.

She suddenly spun around and pushed you back down onto the toilet seat.

"I want you to look me in the eye when you fuck me."

She climbed on top of you, and lowered herself onto your dick, both of you moaning loudly as she did so.

She began to ride you, bouncing up and down on your lap. She wrapped her arms around your head and pulled you into her chest. You took one of her nipples in your mouth, causing an echoing moan to escape her lips.

"You're doing so good. Fuck me just like that, baby."

You could tell she was getting close, so you reached between the two of you and rubbed her clit. She gasped, and buried her face in the crook of your neck, moaning into it, as her climax quickly approached.

"Don't stop, I'm almost there."

She ground her hips down against yours, your dick hitting her in the perfect spot. She was panting heavily now, her walls clenching and squeezing your cock.

"I'm cumming."

With one final thrust, she screamed out in pleasure, her body shaking, as her orgasm ripped through her. She came all over your cock, the tightness and warmth too much for you to bear.

You moaned, as you blew your second load deep inside her, coating her insides.

The two of you sat there for a minute, breathing heavily. She leaned back and looked at you.

"So... worth the trip?"

"I'll be attending all of her games from now on."

Kotone giggled. "Speaking of Jiwoo, we should get back out there before she notices we're gone.

You both quickly redressed, Kotone retrieving her panties from you, and slipping them on.

"This did work by the way, I'm not cold anymore."

Kotone rolled her eyes.

You exited the bathroom holding hands once again. A couple of older woman who were stood not too far outside the door shot you some weird looks, but otherwise it didn't seem like too many people had any idea what had just transpired.

You returned to your spot by the glass just in time to hear the final horn sound.

"Looks like it's over." Kotone remarked. "Alright well now we go down over there and wait for Jiwoo to get changed and come out to meet us."

You followed her one more time down to the waiting area. You weren't there more than a couple minutes before Jiwoo came out and greeted you.

"Kotone are you alright? Are you sick? I saw you in the beginning and it looked like there was something wrong, then you guys disappeared and I never saw you again for the rest of the game!"

"Sorry yea, I wasn't feeling well for a while but I'm fine now. Sorry we missed your game."

"I'm going to join Kotone here for your next game too to make up for today." You added

You and Kotone shared a look.

"Sounds good, I'm happy to see you're doing better, Kotone."

[harrywavycurly]

Now I’m imagining Harry in bed with his glasses on reading a spicy romance novel 🫠

Hiii lovey!! This is too good, I had to write a little tiny thing for it😂💖

-find all things Boyfriend Harry Styles here✨

A/N: Harry is in the middle of his new book and he has questions✨

“I just don’t think this….is possible.” Harry mumbles as you look over to his side of the bed where he’s currently in the middle of his nightly reading session and see his brows pinched together as his glasses slide down his nose the tiniest bit as he looks down at the book in his hands. You scoot closer to him so you can rest your head on his shoulder as he turns the page making a small huff leave his lips. “I don’t think this author has ever actually had sex.” You laugh as he sits up a bit and places the book down on his lap, cover facing up letting you get a glimpse of the title as he runs a hand through his hair.

“What makes you say that?” You ask as he fixes his reading glasses while you sit up and pick the book up so you can scan the page he was just reading.

“Her legs are all over the place and he is uh,” you feel his chin rest on your shoulder as he points to a paragraph on the page you were reading over. “He has her pinned down but by her ankles yet she’s kicking? I don’t know how that makes sense and also it’s not like his head in between her legs so how is he pinning her down by her ankles?” You rub your lips together to hold back your giggle as Harry voices his concerns about the sexual scenes in the book that’s in your hands.

“Well honey it says right here that she’s got her legs wrapped around his hips so he has her ankles in one of his hands behind his back so it’s not that he has her pinned down into the… where are they?….the mattress he just has her ankles locked so she can’t move them.” You explain as you point to the paragraph that gives more detail to the scene that’s giving him some visualization issues.

“Okay but how is she still kicking?” You feel his breath on your neck as he wraps an arm around your middle pulling you closer to him. “Because that clearly says she’s thrashing around him right?” His finger points to a sentence below the paragraph you had just explained to him.

“No Harry that doesn’t say thrashing.” You point to the word he thought said thrashing and you feel his chest vibrate as he laughs at himself.

“Well throbbing does make more sense.” You just laugh and put his bookmark between the pages you were reading before you close the book and hand it to him.

“Are you enjoying that one?” You ask as Harry leans over so he can place the book on his nightstand along with his reading glasses. “Or do you like the hockey ones better?” Harry playfully rolls his eyes as he gets comfortable on his back so you can rest your head on his chest with his arm still wrapped around your middle giving your side a squeeze as one of your hands rest on top of his butterfly tattoo.

“I read a few hockey romance novels and now you think I’m some sort of puck slut.” You tilt your head up so you’re looking at him and you can’t help but giggle when you see he’s already looking down at you.

“We both know that’s exactly what you are.” You whisper making Harry chuckle as he places a kiss to the side of your head. “My little puck slut.” You tease and Harry just huffs as he gives your side a playful pinch making you laugh.

“The sex was better in those I’ll at least admit that.”

[emogigi]

clearing the puck!

pairing: hockey player!haechan x fem!reader

genre: a fluffly crackfic w a bit of angst? i guess lol

word count: 1.5k (for now..)

synopsis: you befriend the school’s star hockey player in order to get some votes on your student council campaign, and in return, he asks for praise on your newest journal column to impress some scouts. what a friendly deal, right? …right?

author’s note: hey everyone! this is my first ever fic here and i couldn’t be more excited !! this is just a little wip of what could possibly become my biggest work … just to test the waters lmao if you have any tips PLEASE let me know since i actually hate how this is written! anyways i hope u like this bit! ♡

warning(s): none, for now

"Please stop shaking your legs. You're making the entire table move." Renjun gives you a nasty look, and you roll your eyes. You shake your legs even faster, just to push at his buttons a little harder. "Ugh— Stop that!"

"Maybe if you guys were helping me prepare, I wouldn't be so nervous!" You let out an angry huff as you stared at your computer screen, which was blindingly bright. Why are you still insisting on using light mode? Stupid student council elections and stupid columnist work. What use was it if you couldn't even complete a stupid campaign work?

"Y'know it's no use if you're a loner, right?" Chenle perks up from the other side of the room, his body strewn on a spinning chair as he turns around in your direction. He doesn't even dare to look up from his phone, his thumbs messily pressing against the screen. Was he playing Clash of Clans again? "You kinda have to be popular to gain votes. And, contrary to popular belief, I don’t do miracles.

"What do you mean? I'm popular!" You scoff in disbelief, looking over to Renjun for moral support, but he simply shakes his head. Huang Renjun, you are useless.

"Writing a column for our college journal doesn't make you popular."

You grunt in frustration, dropping your head to your keyboard. You let out a long sigh before slamming both of your hands on the table and looking up. The loud crash startles both boys, and they glance at you with wide eyes. "Fine. What do you suggest?"

Chenle and Renjun look at each other and back at you, and you swear there’s a mischievous glint behind their eyes.

You’re never listening to them again. Especially if it’s fucking freezing outside!

You let out a sigh that quickly transforms into a puff of cold air as you look around, spotting the banner hung up above the building entrance. “66 LEE DONGHYUCK — THE NCIT DINOSAURS STAR CENTER” with his face nicely printed on the side. Inspecting his face, you almost laugh at the stupidity of the plan. Befriending the school’s star hockey player in order to socially thrive. Well, befriending is a strong word. You would be offering him a friendly deal, that’s for sure. And it’s not like he would be leaving empty-handed. It’s a win-win situation.

You sucked in a deep breath between your teeth before walking straight into the ice rink. You could hear shouting and the sound of the puck sliding neatly across the ice. It didn’t even take you long to notice your target. You watched him for a while. He’s obviously a natural, every move purposeful and graceful. No wonder he was the team’s star.

You quickly look away when you notice yourself staring. Shit.

Figuring it would be better to just wait until practice was over, you hopped on the grandstands, next to a group of 3 girls that you recognized from around the campus. They were wearing the team’s classic red and blue jersey with a big “66” plastered at the front.

You jumped in your seat with their hysterical screaming, quickly turning your head back to the rink. Donghyuck was planted by the fence, looking up at the benches, winking and flashing his infamous cocky smirk at the girls. You could swear that his gaze lingered on yours for a while, but you shook your head, dismissing the thought. As he finally moved away, the girl sitting directly next to you still shook her arms to get his attention.

Practice went by surprisingly fast, much to your dismay. The coach whistled and next thing you notice, the team was already off the ice. Everyone around patted Donghyuck on the back and sang praise at the boy, who just grinned. A slightly taller, and what appeared older guy, swiftly threw his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder, revealing the back of his jersey. “MARK, 2”. You couldn’t distinctly understand what they were saying but you could only assume that he was teasing the blonde, the way Donghyuck seemed to sulk at his words. As Mark started pushing Donghyuck to walk away to the locker room, you panic, afraid to miss your shot to talk to the blonde.

“LEE DONGHYUCK!” Your shout reverberates all throughout the rink. Your survival instincts really took over this one. Good work on first impressions! You feel your cheeks heat up as all eyes are now on you. You both stare at each other with wide eyes. How you wished you could just dig the biggest hole on the ground to hide yourself forever.

“Uh, yes?” He asks reluctantly, looking around as if he wasn’t the only Lee Donghyuck there. “Can I help you?”

“Uhm— Yes! I need to talk to you.” You internally curse at yourself for stuttering so much. “Alone. If— If that’s alright.”

Mark, who still stood next to his friend, looks over at him. Donghyuck nods at the rest of the team and gives off some kind of excuse, sending them on their way. They reluctantly walk away, leaving you both alone by the grandstands.

You feel your stomach turn as you watch him approach you, practice bag messily thrown over his shoulder.

“What’s up?” He’s rather calm for someone who just got shouted at by a complete stranger.

You gulp. Is this really a good idea? He notices your hesitation and raises his eyebrows, gesturing for you to talk.

“Well— This is going to sound really weird… But we need to be friends from now on.”

He freezes in his spot, obviously taken aback by your offer. He looks at you with a confused frown until something clicks in his head. His pursed lips curve into a smile and he scoffs at you. “Look, I get it if you have a crush on me, but you’re horrible at this.”

What? You quickly wave your hands dismissively in front of him, shaking your head. “That’s not it!”

“Then what is it?”

You sigh and stare back at him, shit-eating smirk plastered on his face. Well, you asked for it, Lee Donghyuck.

“As you probably don’t know, the student council elections are coming up and I’m running for president. The problem is that, according to my friends, I’m not “popular” enough to get voted on. And since you’re probably the most popular person in this school, if I become friends with you, I’ll be popular by association, which means I might actually have a shot at the elections. Obviously, I know that this is a weird request but we can make some sort of deal — If you’re up for it.” After a completely venting (and probably rapping) at him, Donghyuck stares at you dumbfounded. Great, now you scared him.

Seeing the look on his face, a wave of failure washes over you and suddenly you’re rethinking everything. You knew this was a stupid plan for the start. Oh, Huang Renjun. You were going to kill him! You have embarrassed yourself astronomically and now you could say goodbye to your dear presidential spot—

“Okay.”

Okay? “Okay?”

“Sure. Why not?” You look at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion and he just shrugs. “Plus, you said that we could make a deal.” Of course. He was only interested because he was getting something out of it. You’re a smart man, Lee Donghyuck.

“Yeah— sure. Do you have anything in mind?” He seems to stop for a moment, briefing on what to say. You look at him impatiently, tapping your fingers rhythmically against your arm.

“You write a column for the school’s journal, right? Isn’t it something like… “Like It Is”? Yeah, that’s it.”

“How did you— Whatever. What do you need?” His smirk grows bigger as he stares back at you.

“We have a few NHL scouts coming over for the playoffs.” He crosses his arms. “To add up to my amazing playing skills, I need you to write a column about me. Y’know, to impress them.”

“And what makes you think that they’ll listen to me?”

“Because you actually write things as they are.” He sniffs. “You have an honest reputation around the school. They’ll believe you.” You ponder.

“Well, I–” Donghyuck quickly turns around as someone calls out his name.

“As much as I would love to continue our lovely convo, I have to go. Lovely seeing you, (---).” He prepares to walk away but quickly turns back. “You have my Insta, right?” You simply nod in response and he smiles, finally walking to the locker room.

“Bye bye, my sweetheart!”

“Wait, Donghyuck— That’s not—!”

Before you can say anything, you’re all alone in the rink.

[thesassypadawan]

Puck Slut 2 (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: It’s yours and Hayden’s favorite time of the nhl season, when your teams faceoff against one another. And, as usual, you two have a bet in place, loser pays for the tab. Along with yet another interesting little twist…squeeze and tease.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Hockey, fingering, public sex, and, as always…Hayden’s big dick.

Notes: Hope you lovelies also enjoy Puck Slut .5, Puck Slut 1, and Puck Slut 3.5!

*Pregame*

- First of all, no hockey game would be complete without tasty food and ice-cold drinks. Especially when they’re being enjoyed at someone’s favorite sports bar.

- “I’m surprised you picked here; thought you hated their wings.” Hayden says with a small smirk, taking the drinks from your hands.

- “I do, worst I’ve ever had.” You’d reply all sassily, playfully smacking the brim of his hat. “But you like them and…I figured they’d help lessen the blow when the Leafs lose.”

- Gives your shorts a tug, pulling you down into the booth beside him. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see who’s picking up the tab later.”

- Rolling your eyes; you reach for a nacho, making sure you push them tities against his arm. “Come on, we both know you were going to do it either way.”

- You bet Hay’s going to give your nipple a small tweak for that one. Snatching your chippy the second you squeak and jump. Stupid moose.

- But then he’s all cute and smooth, wrapping his arm around you…resting his head on top of yours. “So, should we make things interesting again?”

- Besides getting to drink to your heart’s content while spending a night out with your man… All right, you’ll play along. “Sure. What dirty idea do you have in mind?”

*Game Time*

- Normally you’d really be into the game. Cheering, hollering, cursing, the whole nine yards. But it’s kind of difficult to do so when your team hasn’t made a single goal and…his big hand was cupping your pussy underneath the table, yours palming his dick.

- Neither of you were allowed to move or try to stimulate yourself. Those were the rules. Only when your boys scored, did you get to be ‘squeezed and teased’.

- The third period had just started with the Leafs up by two. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy ‘squeezing and teasing’ Hayden; those stifled groans, chef’s kiss. It was just…you wanted a turn too, dammit.

- Unfortunately, you do have to wait long. In fact, it isn’t until about five minutes left in the game that the siren finally went off once, twice…and you could feel his finger press softly down.

- A smirk crosses his face, and he chuckles in your ear. “Two? Back-to-back? You’re in for one hell of a ride, angel.”

- Kissing your cheek innocently, he starts to slowly grind his palm against your little cunt. Kneading it so good, that thumb circling your clit through the denim perfectly. Even giving it a hard pinch…you force back a moan when he did so.

- You’re growing wetter and wetter. Whole body heating up, walls fluttering like cray. Just as you’re really getting into it, hips rocking and everything. The buzzer rings and… “End of third; looks like we’re heading to OT.” …Hay stops, pulling his hand out from in-between your squishy pillows.

*Overtime*

- “Bullshit.” You’d sit there, pouting and huffing. Legs shut tightly together; rubbing them desperately, trying to get the sweet friction back. “What now, Mountie Boy?”

- Flashing you that damn panty dropping smile. Hayden pulls your into his lap, placing you right on top of his huge bump. “We up the ante. Winner gets to ask the loser to do one thing…no objections.”

- Wiggling excitedly, you can’t help but grin yourself. A wicked request coming to mind. “Okay…bet. Anything else?”

- “Yeah, let’s have a shootout.” Wrapping a strong arm around your waist, he ruts against your booty. “First to ‘shoot’ has to pay for dinner too.” Hand sliding up your thigh, the hem of your shorts. “Deal?” Fingers slip under your panties, dipping into…

- You let out a small squeal, hands gripping the table. While Hay’s thick digits pump steadily, thumb pushing down hard… “D-deal.”

*Postgame*

- As soon as OT begins, it basically ends. Literally, not even three minutes in and the final buzzer rings out. With neither of you ‘shooting’ and the Leafs coming out on top.

- Hayden can’t drag you out of the booth fast enough. Down the dimly lit hallway. Into the cramped bathroom. Bent over the dinky sink. Panties and shorts around your ankles. “Cashing in your ask already.”

- Cock pressed to your lower back, he mutters smugly while looking at you in the mirror. “You know it. Now on your tiptoes, we got to move quick.”

- Nodding, you eagerly do like he says. Biting your lip as you watch him still have to slouch a bit to line up. Impressive length running between your soaked folds, coating himself thoroughly.

- He only teases for a moment before he’s slamming into you. Hands gripping your hips firmly, yanking you back to meet each powerful thrust. Your sensitive bud grinding into the cold surface of the cracked porcelain, making you whimper and mewl.

- Hooking an arm under your breasts, he hauls your upper body up. Fucking you fast and deep. Bullying and bruising your poor cervix with every bounce. The sound of skin slapping fills the small space, along with your combined pants and grunts. “So wet…so tight. Such a good little puck slut. Going to…”

- “…cum!” That got you clenching hard, gummy walls flexing and squeezing around him. Moans flying from your lips as you crash completely, gushing all over. Followed by him letting out a low growl, painting your insides white. Bucking weakly while he comes down from his high.

- Once your feet are flat on the floor again. Hay pulls you against his chest, tucking you easily under his chin. “About that tab?”

- You bust out in a fit of giggles, swatting his arm playfully. “Yeah, yeah…let me at least get my shorts back on first.”

*Post Postgame*

- You don’t know how, but not only are you able to stand…you can also still walk. Plus, you two ended up managing to not get caught.

- So there you are, leaning on the bar rail. Impatiently tapping your card, waiting to settle the tab. While his cum slowly leaks out of you.

- Hay comes up behind, sporting a cocky grin. Pressing into you, one hand rests on your butt and the other reaches over your head…passing the bartender his card instead. “Don’t worry, I got it. Just make me breakfast tomorrow.”

- Shivering, you feel his sticky seed start to trickle down your leg and your lips turn up into a wicked smile. “Called it…totally knew you would.”

- You got a solid smack for that…worth it.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[stellarhistoria]

"Mmm... I have to disagree." his words are quiet - a flutter of a butterfly's wings against the breeze, a crumbling of sand through fingers, a static shock when too much collects in the air, the humidity that doesn't get noticed until you try to breathe too deep, the bubbles underneath the surface detecting life. he was gentle in his soft discordance of reality - as if he lived in the world as much as he was a part of it, here and there and nowhere at all.

"A life is lived as both a sum of memories and a total of choices. That's what makes a person. Those memories, and the actions that happened to make them, are what give life meaning. It's the purpose behind every action," ever youthful features betray their age for a moment as his visage softens, smile crinkling the edges of his eyes in crow's feet. "it's the curiosity that drives a soul to thrive."

"My husband once told me: you are half what you love and half what loves you. I once believed he was a fool, when I was freshly grieving the loss of my entire world. I once believed he had the lofty belief he did because he had lost nothing. As time passed, I had realized... my husband held such beliefs because he had loved, because he had lost, and because he continued to live."

he chuckles and stands up, his towering form tall even to zhongli, but perhaps only slightly taller than a certain winery owner. "No matter how painful, the memories make you half of who you are. Don't forget that. Your love of life is well and true noted, Ren." had the archon asked for a name? perhaps not. but he knew it.

what concerned him was that he could not see where the curiosity began.

close  to  his  HEART  —  ?  the  wanderer's  expression  twists,  surprise  then  annoyance  washing  over  delicate  countenance  in  quick  succession  before  he  has  the  sense  to  smother  it  all  down.  he  would  love  to  point  out  he  has  NOTHING  of  the  sort  —  that  his  chest  is  a  hollow  altar  devoid  of  the  centerpiece  (  of  the  divine  heart  )  it  was  once  constructed  to  hold.  however,  that  would  only  serve  as  an  admission  of  his  inhumanity,  and  he  isn't  foolish  enough  to  announce  such  a  thing  to  a  stranger  he  hardly  knows.  (  he  isn't  foolish  enough  to  announce  it  to  most  people  he  does.  )  instead,  ren  merely  exhales  a  hiss  of  a  sigh  through  harshly  grit  teeth.  reconstructing  his  composure,  piece  by  meticulous  piece.  it's  not  the  sort  of  thing  a  human  would  get  SO  UPSET  over,  and  so  he  should  try  to  feign  that  same  sort  of  indifference  if  he  means  to  maintain  this  careful  masquerade  of  one.

❝  that  wasn't  my  point.  ❞   he  says.  it  feels  like  it  takes  him  an  ETERNITY  to  speak  —  though  in  reality,  ren  suspects  he's  only  paused  a  few  seconds  longer  than  normal.  ❝  i  never  said  memories  were  without  value.  ❞  on  the  contrary,  he  knows  what  it's  like  to  exist  without  them.  for  all  the  pain  they  bring,  stripping  himself  of  his  past  leaves  only  a  hollow  and  unfulfilled  existence  in  their  wake.  it  may  be  a  curse,  but  it's  his  curse  to  bear  —  the  one  that  HE  CHOSE,  when  he  made  the  decision  to  shoulder  his myriad of  sins.  ❝  however,  i  don't  draw  comfort  from  deluding  myself  into  believing  the  dead  are  able  to  maintain  an  EXISTENCE purely  through  my  recollection  of  them.  ❞  he  thinks  of  their  memories  as  something  akin  to  carefully maintained portraits  lining  museum  halls.

❝  i'd  rather  honor  them  through  my  actions.  that's  all.  ❞   the  wanderer  may  never  FORGET,  but  that  doesn't  feel  substantial  enough.  he  needs  to  do  something  —  enact  revenge,  enact  change  as  a  way  to  COMPENSATE  the  dead  for  the  wrongdoings  they  suffered  in  life.   ❝  directly  or  otherwise ...  they  all  suffered  at  the  hands  of  someone  truly  reprehensible.  ensuring  no  one  else  endures  the  same  fate  seems  like  a  fitting  way  to  pay  them  back  for  all  the  misery  they  were  subjected  to.  ❞

[hockeyassforposterity]

A beginner’s guide to goalie equipment

//

I’m taking a class dedicated to zine making and self-publishing this semester - and I made this for my first assignment. It’s twenty eight pages, printed on cream coloured paper, and saddlestitch bound with blue linen thread.

You guys seem to love goalies so I thought you might like this. I also love goalies, but in a sort of narcissistic way.

//

Full transcript with page numbers below the cut

(3) Under normal circumstances, there are six players on the ice from each team. One of these players is a goalie.

Hockey has a lot of rules, but to understand goaltending, you actually don’t need to understand most of them. All you need to know is that your team’s objective is to put a vulcanized rubber disk into your opponent’s net. This is called a goal. If you’re a goalie, then all you need to do is to stop your opponent from doing that to you. Most goals wins. Simple.

If items in pairs are treated as a single piece, then my goalie equipment consists of eleven pieces. They are as follows:

//

(4) It’s called a jock or a jill depending on your personal plumbing. This is the one that keeps you from getting hit directly in the junk.

They make ones specifically designed for goalies, but I don’t have one. After thirteen years as a full time goalie, this is the only piece of equipment designed for players that I still own.

“Jock and Jill went up the hill…”

//

(5) They look like shorts but they call them pants.

Goalie pants have extra padding to protect the front of your legs and very little padding on the back. If you fall on your ass, it’s gonna hurt. Ask me how I know.

//

(6/7) In comparison to the skates worn by players, goalie skates are shorter. The boot sits in this hard plastic dish called a cowling that keeps your feet from getting broken. New goalie skates have these built in.

Skating technique for goalies is based on pushing laterally rather than gliding forward, so the blades are straight instead of curved.

I’ve had my skates for almost ten years.

//

(8/9) Big, box-shaped pads made of synthetic leather that attach to your legs with straps, designed to take up as much space as possible. Hard enough that pucks bounce off, but soft enough to move in. Smooth on the sides so they can slide across the ice.

//

(10/11) If I needed a visual metaphor for goalie pads, I would represent them as wings.

//

(12/13) A piece of cut resistant fabric and padding that wraps around the neck and is secured with velcro, protecting it from cuts and from the impact of getting hit.

There’s an additional piece of hard plastic that hangs off the goalie mask by strings so you won’t get hit in the neck at all. These are known colloquially as danglers.

Neck guards are not mandatory in the NHL or PWHL. Some players wear them, but most players don’t. It’s your life, but I think you should wear one.

It is mandatory to wear a neck guard in minor hockey.

//

(14) One big piece of equipment that covers your entire upper body. A lot of little plates all connected to each other.

There is a lot of padding on the front.

And no padding on the back.

Goalie equipment is like a turtle shell, but in front of you instead of on your back. You have to learn not to be afraid. You won’t get hurt if you let yourself get hit head on.

//

(15) Why do they wear jerseys in any sport? So everyone looks the same, but with numbers to still be identifiable, I guess. In hockey, the number 1, but also the number 30 and 31 and other numbers in the 30s are widely considered to be numbers specially for goalies.

//

(16/17) A lot of goalie masks have custom paint jobs. My dream is to someday paint my own. If you know someone who could help me with that, please give them this zine.

I want to cover it in hands, because I love drawing them - but I’m worried that would make me look like a freak. Maybe that’s the point, everyone always says that goalies are weird.

Goalies wear pads and goalies wear art and goalies have special numbers just for them. Goalies do not have to look the same.

//

(18/19) It’s loud when you get hit in the head. If you get hit hard enough, the material of the mask will flex to mitigate the force of the impact and the straps keeping it attached to your head will pop off. So you don’t get hurt, your mask is designed to fail.

I once heard someone say they could never be a goalie because they aren’t mentally strong enough.

I don’t think this is true. Every kid cries at first when they get scored on and then sooner or later they stop. You will learn how to fail.

//

(20) Called a catcher or a trapper, but sometimes just referred to casually as the glove, it has a pocket to catch the puck. You have to break it in like a baseball glove. My dad and I spent years playing catch to break in my first glove.

My parents have two daughters and no sons. After we were born, people would ask my dad if he was disappointed to have no sons.

I don’t know why. You can play catch with your daughters.

//

(21) The blocker goes on your dominant hand and is the one you use to hold the stick. It’s a glove with a literal block of padding attached to it. If you position it properly, pucks will bounce off.

Like your pants, like your chest protector, like your mask, you have to face the puck head on. If you’re afraid, then you’ll get hurt. Do not be afraid.

//

(22/23) Hockey sticks are made out of molded carbon fibre and are hollow on the inside. Goalie sticks have a wider section at the base referred to as a paddle. The ideal paddle length varies depending on your height. You wrap the blade and end of the stick in tape for increased grip.

When I was fourteen I subbed as a goalie for another team at a tournament. My first crush on a girl was on a player on that team. She was blonde and wore glasses. I don’t remember her name. I haven’t seen her since.

There is a company that makes hockey tape with a rainbow pattern explicitly as a symbol of inclusion.

Last year the NHL banned its teams from wearing specialty jerseys in support of causes, any cause, on the ice. Later, they banned players from using pride tape on their sticks. When Travis Dermott used it anyway, the ban was overturned.

Marie-Philip Poulin is the captain of the Canadian national women's team. She plays on the same team as her wife, Laura Stacey.

We’ll get through this, please don’t be afraid.

//

(24/25) Goaltending works by covering as much of the net as you can. Obviously, the taller you are, the easier this is, but the way it’s actually achieved is with angles.

The closer you are to the puck, the less net there is to see. The better you face the puck, the less net there is to see. And of course, the faster you get to the puck, the better.

I am not tall, but I can get to the puck anyway.

If I needed a visual metaphor for goalie pads, I would represent them as wings. Why else would they call it the butterfly?

//

(26) How to be a goalie, in four simple steps:

Learn how to put on your equipment.

Learn to fail.

Learn to fly.

Do not be afraid.

[luveline]

Sooo im still not over your hockey player Eddie and I absolutely love love love your hurt/comfort fics so I would love to see one where he's teaching something to reader and r gets injured and fluff ensues!

tysm for requesting, 1.3k

"You warm enough?" Eddie asks. 

Your hand is your only warm appendage where it's held in his. You're using your wobbly footing on the ice as an excuse to touch him, hand like a viper clinging to him. "Is that a joke?" 

You're wearing upward of three layers. The icy chill permeates through. 

"You'll feel warmer once we start moving, I promise." Eddie wears a simple compression shirt and sweatpants.

You kind of wish every other person here of single status would be blind to him. Like, they'd look at him and their eyes would just miraculously skip his figure, but alas. If anything, his impressive bulking attracts attention. Eddie drew looks before he started taking hockey seriously, but for a different reason. Now he's started building muscle, he's like honey to flies. 

You're not shallow, but muscles are muscles. He looks good. Hopefully he knows it, but Eddie's generally oblivious to his own looks, more focused on other people. Even now he drives you both backward on the ice while watching your face. 

"Don't be nervous," he says. 

"That's easier said than done," you say, grabbing his arm with your free hand as your left skate slides forward. 

"I've got you, honey," he says. It's not as strange from his lips as you might suspect because he says it in such a particular way. Easy-going, verging on cocky, he doesn't think for a second that you're going to slip, and he knows for sure that you're his honey. He has the cheese ball grin to prove it. "This will be fun! You said you wanted to try." 

"I do want to. Or, I did. Now we're here, I'm not so confident."

"You don't think I can teach you?" he asks. 

"No, I just don't think I can learn," you say, seizing as Eddie begins a gentle figure eight. You've watched him enough to know what shape he'll take, but that doesn't stop the instinctual fear. 

"If I can weasel my way into minor league, you can learn to play. I promise it's easy." 

"It's not easy, Eds. You worked so hard, I mean," —you wiggle your eyebrows at him suggestively— "just look at you." 

"Charmer! No, I mean learning to play is easy. Scoring a goal is easy. You know, so long as there's no goalkeeper there to stop you. I'm gonna let go of your hand now, okay?" 

Eddie skates to just behind the goal where his stick awaits, a puck on the floor beside it. He skates and keeps the puck close, stopping it by your feet. You've managed to skate closer to the goalposts without falling, waiting with your hands out like a tightrope walker. 

"Doing good," Eddie praises, dropping a cold kiss into your temple. He hands you the stick and stations himself at your side.  

You straighten it out. You've held it a few times and Eddie had you practising on dry land before the ice, but it feels heavier now. Your balance isn't automatic anymore. 

"You want help? We can do it like a movie." Eddie sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You feel better knowing he'll catch you before you can fall. 

"How much am I pulling back?" 

"Not a lot from here. If you were skating you might wanna pull it up real high, but the puck's not moving and neither are you." 

"What does Steve say?" you ask, lining up your shot. 

"Put the biscuit in the basket, dickhead?" 

You laugh and hit your puck. It slides across the ice and between the goalposts easily, a small feat for you and a big cause for celebration in Eddie's eyes; he shouts a nonsense sound, his arm behind your back as he shouts, "Yes! Easy-peasy, babe, you're a natural." 

You feel pretty happy about it, all things considered. Even if it wasn't as hard as you imagined, Eddie's pleased, and for a moment you forget you're untrained on the ice and attempt to return his half hug. 

You fall because you think you're going to. Sudden, you remember you might slip, and the panic has you pushing your skate forward in an attempt to dig in. It slides out from under you and Eddie's not on guard, catching your arm but not your back as you smack into the ice. 

"Shit! Shit, come here, sweetheart," he says, pulling you up. 

"Ow, wait," you say. More of a yelp, you wince as your skates slide about, thighs rigid and cold, the bottom of your spine aching, but worst of all is your arm. In his attempt to keep you standing, Eddie's yanked your arm sore in its socket. You don't mean to be dramatic but you're desperate for the hot pain to stop. "Eddie, let go." 

He drops your hand. Unafraid of being unable to stand again, Eddie goes down on his knees. Any skater will give you room. 

"Did I hurt you?" he asks. 

You put your hands on the ice in an attempt to sit up. Eddie holds you down, hands on your thighs. 

"Take five. Did I hurt you?" he asks again, not urgent but teetering, his hand imploring as it travels to your waist. 

You don't want to say yes. "My arm went funny, that's all. Sorry." 

"I'm the sorry one. Said I wouldn't drop you and I did… that's not right, huh?" His hand curls behind your back. 

You're not as hurt as you'd initially thought. Your arm aches sharply and your back will definitely bruise, but Eddie gives you a minute to get to grips with things and stands up expertly, hoisting you into his arms. His arms are lined with fingernail embeddings by the time you get back to the bench, and then you're both sorry. 

"Eddie," you murmur, rubbing your thumbs over the small red crescents softly. 

"How bad is it?" 

"I don't know." You shrug. "Not so bad now." You know Eddie's letting you do what you want because you're hurt, and not because he doesn't want badly to be assessing your arm and your back. "It's my bad, I got spooked."

He catches your gaze, holds it tenderly. Sugary brown with a deep dark iris and the big white grain of the lights above reflected. You skip from one eye to the other. He has more caramel coloured flecks in one. Both are soft and sorry. 

"Is this gonna put a stop to your illustrious hockey career?" he jokes weakly. 

You can't believe you scratched him so bad. "No way. If you want me to be great, I'll be great, just… maybe when my back doesn't feel all tingly." 

Eddie untucks your many shirts with a low hum, fingertips drawing an invisible line over your pain. "It looks okay." He drops his forehead into your neck and hugs your naked stomach, saying, "You're so warm," with his lips pressed to your shoulder. "...M'really sorry I dropped you, babe. I got too excited." 

"Not the first time that's happened," you say. 

Eddie pinches your tummy, his smile audible as you squirm. "Very funny." 

His hair is soft where it lays under your cheek. You let him cuddle up to you until you can't take the cold nor the aching anymore and ask to go home. Eddie insists on carrying you to the changing rooms, you insist on him not doing that, and you compromise by walking with his arm behind your back. 

"I'll try again next weekend," you promise. 

Eddie kiss-kiss-kisses your cheek in thank you. 

[criminally-chill]

In good hands

Chapter 2: The First Game

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

——————————

Emily stepped into the arcade, scanning the bustling, neon-lit space until her eyes landed on Y/N by the air hockey tables. She felt a thrill of excitement at seeing her there, looking so effortlessly confident in jeans and a worn T-shirt, tattoos peeking out beneath rolled-up sleeves. There was something magnetic about Y/N’s easy stance and warm smile, and Emily found herself grinning as she walked over.

Y/N spotted her and leaned off the air hockey table, smirking. “Agent Prentiss,” she said in a teasing tone. “You ready to lose?”

Emily raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Lose? You’re clearly underestimating me, Dr. L/N.”

Y/N chuckled, sliding a paddle across to her. “Alright, big shot. Show me what you’ve got.”

They started the game, and right away, Emily noticed Y/N’s sharp reflexes and the competitive spark in her eyes. The doctor wasn’t giving her any easy points, and it only made Emily more determined. They went back and forth, Emily scoring one point, then Y/N hitting two back in quick succession.

“Oh, come on,” Emily laughed as Y/N blocked her shot with an almost theatrical flair. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, definitely,” Y/N replied, grinning as she tapped the puck back across the table. “But hey, it’s not my fault you thought you’d have an easy win.”

The game was close, but Y/N ultimately won, her triumphant laugh filling the air. “Victory!” she declared, raising her paddle in mock celebration.

Emily shook her head, trying not to laugh. “Beginner’s luck,” she teased. “Let’s see if you can handle a real challenge. Skee-Ball?”

Y/N accepted the challenge eagerly, and they moved on, their laughter and lighthearted banter growing with each game. When it was Emily’s turn, Y/N took the chance to poke fun, gesturing exaggeratedly with her hands. “Easy there, Prentiss. It’s all in the wrist.”

Emily rolled her eyes, tossing the ball with a flourish that landed perfectly in the top-scoring ring. “See that? All in the wrist,” she mimicked, her smirk wide.

Y/N chuckled, pretending to concede as she lined up her shot. “Alright, alright. Guess you’ve got some skills.”

As they played through the rounds, Emily noticed how easily they fell into rhythm with each other. The competition, the laughter, and the small, subtle touches made her feel like she’d known Y/N far longer than just a couple of encounters.

After a while, they wandered over to the claw machine, and Y/N’s expression turned mischievous. “Care to try your luck?” she asked, nodding toward the stuffed animals inside. “Or do you think the legendary Agent Prentiss might need a hand?”

Emily gave her a playful shove. “Oh, I could do it… but I think I’ll let you prove your skills this time.”

Y/N grinned, taking up the challenge. She dropped a quarter into the machine and focused on maneuvering the claw with surprising care. “Alright, I’ll win you a prize. But no promises on the quality,” she said, eyes glinting.

As the claw lowered, Emily found herself caught between amusement and genuine hope that Y/N might actually pull it off. With one last nudge, the claw grabbed hold of a small, neon-colored dinosaur and lifted it with surprising precision.

“Oh, I don’t believe it,” Emily said, watching as Y/N deftly maneuvered the claw over to the prize chute. The dinosaur tumbled down, and Y/N reached in, retrieving it with a grin.

She turned to Emily, holding out the little plush dinosaur with a warm smile. “For you, Agent Prentiss,” she said, her tone a mix of playfulness and sincerity. “To commemorate your bravery on the air hockey battlefield.”

Emily laughed, but there was a hint of warmth in her eyes as she took the toy. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. You’re more than just a trauma surgeon with a quick wit.”

Y/N shrugged modestly. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.”

They shared a laugh, lingering close as they headed outside into the cool night air, leaving the neon glow of the arcade behind. Emily looked down at the little dinosaur Y/N had won her, a feeling of rare lightness settling over her.

They stopped by the doorway, and Y/N turned to face her, her expression softening. “Thanks for tonight, Emily. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in… well, a long time.”

Emily met her gaze, warmth spreading through her chest. “Me neither,” she admitted. “It’s been… surprisingly fun.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the quiet between them carrying an unspoken invitation. Then, Y/N took a step closer, her hand brushing Emily’s lightly, almost as if testing the waters. Emily didn’t pull back; instead, she found herself leaning in, her pulse quickening as Y/N’s face came close.

In the soft glow of the streetlights, Y/N closed the distance, pressing a gentle, tentative kiss to Emily’s lips. It was warm and sweet, a promise held in the quiet connection between them. Emily felt herself melt into it, her hand resting lightly on Y/N’s arm as the kiss deepened just slightly, filled with unspoken hopes and possibilities.

When they finally pulled back, both of them a little breathless, Y/N’s smile softened, her eyes shining. “I’d say that was a pretty good ending to our first date, wouldn’t you?”

Emily laughed softly, feeling the warmth of Y/N’s hand lingering on her own. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice filled with rare warmth. “I’d say it was perfect.”

As they said their goodbyes, Emily clutched the little dinosaur to her chest, watching as Y/N walked away with a last, lingering smile. The night felt full of promise, and for the first time in a long time, Emily felt like she had something real to look forward to.

[chris-slut]

𓈒𓏸 𖦹 teach me ⸝⸝ 🏑 .ᐟ ׄ ׅ ྀ

matt : blue

reader : pink

currently your in a nearby skating area with your boyfriend matt for a date night. this was all matt’s idea since he played hockey in middle school.

“matt, i’m gonna fall!” you scream as you tip toe onto the ice with the skates on. you look around as your eyes follow matt, seeing his skate around with a hockey stick in his hand. “you’ll be okay baby, just cmere,” he says back to you, skating over to you with one of his hands out.

you quickly grab onto his hand as he guides you around the sides of the rink. “matt- no way can i stay on this ice for another minute. i’m cold and absolutely terrified right now!” you say as you feel your teeth clattering.

matt let’s out a giggle as he looks up into your eyes, “as long as i’m next to you, you’ll be fine. do you want my hoodie?” he asks but you quickly shake your head no.

“you’ll be cold then, plus i already have a hoodie on so,” you say as he lets out a sigh, “do you want my hoodie? i’d rather freeze to death then see you shiver like that baby.”

he stops on the ice as he slides his hoodie over his head and hands it to you, watching as you throw it over the hoodie you had on before. “thank you,” you mumble as he nods, skating with you at a faster pace as he throws his hockey stick so you can hold onto both of his hands.

“you got this okay?” matt reassures you as you two skate along the ice, smiles in both of your faces. it only took 5 minutes for you to get use to everything, letting go of matt’s hand and slowly skating around.

you look over at matt who’s hitting pucks into the hockey net, “i’m doing it matt!” you yell as he stops and looks at you smiling. “i told you that you could do it princess.”

[hockeyboistrash]

wearing blue in a sea of yellow | a.s

a/n: this is purely self-indulgent. there may be some inaccuracies but like i said, its self-indulgent. i love this team and am so proud of what they've accomplished so far. i realise i've kinda disappeared, but i'm hoping to come back

summary: artūrs šilovs got the call that he was going to be the starter goalie. you of course had to be there, even if you were the only one wearing a canucks jersey

"They want me to start." Artūrs told you, disbelief laced his voice. He was still taking in the conversation he just had with his coach. He knew it was a possibility with Demko out injured but didn't think that DeSmith would also be out injured.

"Are you serious?" You asked, not believing what you just heard. Arturs nodded making you scream, wrapping your arms around him. You pulled back when you didn't feel his arms around you. "Is this not a good thing?"

"Yes of course it is. Its just... What if I'm not good enough?" He mumbled, looking down. That broke your heart. You hated when Arturs doubts himself but you understood the pressure that came with being an NHL goalie, especially one in the playoffs. You have the whole fanbase praising you one minute and then hating you the next.

"You are good enough." You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin. Artūrs leaned into your touch, the contact grounding him. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't. Remember last year? You helped Latvia get third place in the championships." A small smile crept upon his lips when you said that. You always knew what to say to him. "What ever happens tonight, I'm proud of you, okay? Not everyone would be able step up like you are. That makes you a pretty incredible guy already."

Arturs turned, kissing your hand. He appreciated every reassurance you uttered to him and your presence in Nashville. "Thank you for being here with me."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." You told him, the smile he fell in love with dancing across your lips. You took his hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Now if you get nervous or panic, just know that I will be there in the sea of yellow wearing blue."

-x-

As the clock ticked down you were on the edge of your seat. It was a close game. When Brock scored it breathed life into the game again. Then he scored another, his third of the game, pushing it to overtime. Any other day hockey is stressful but the playoffs take it to a whole new level. You wouldn't be surprised if you didn't have any nails left at the end.

You wish you could talk to Artūrs. He's got the weight of the Canucks fanbase on his shoulders and you wanted to take carry some of it for him. Instead you settled on sending him a text, even if he won't see it until after.

I'm so proud of you ❤️

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, you turned your focus back onto the game as overtime began. Your hands were clasped in front of you as your eyes darted across the ice, focusing on the puck as it was passed between the players. Then it hit the back of the net. You could feel the Nashville fans near you deflate as they lost but you didn't care. You jumped up excited that Artūrs's first playoff game was a win, excited that the Canucks are up 3-1 in the series. You watched on with pride as the boys surrounded your boyfriend, hugging each other.

You knew it'd be a while before Artūrs came out but that didn't stop you bouncing up and down, waiting for him so you could wrap your arms around him in a bone crushing hug.

The commotion from the girls let you know that the boys were coming out of the locker room. You watched on as they greeted their significant others, congratulating them as they walked pass. Artūrs was one of the last ones out leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, the tiredness he felt from the game slipping away. He didn't even get a chance to say anything before your arms were around him, pulling him into a deep kiss, your fingers tangled in his wet hair. Arturs truly believed he was the luckiest guy in the world when it came to you. Everything felt right when he was with you.

"You were incredible out there." You mumbled against his lips.

"Couldn't have done it without you." Artūrs said and you playfully hit is chest, rolling your eyes. He always said that after every game. It was like you were on the ice with him when really you were either in the crowd or watching at home.

"We should probably get out of here if we don't want to be locked in here." You sighed, wishing you could stay in your own little world for a little while longer, knowing the boys will want to go out and celebrate their win.

"That was one time." Artūrs grinned, his fingers laced with yours as you began walking towards the exit.

[lueurjun]

━━━━ good luck charm. l.heeseung

hockey player!heeseung x reader brain rot because i’m a simp for hockey player heeseung and i’m in deep need to write pure tooth rotting fluff rn<3

feet moving together in perfect harmony, a beautiful masterpiece of lines carved into the ice with every glide making the cold surface his own canvas. an artist at work finessing a mesmerising performance; you were enchanted.

despite being completely encased in hockey gear, you could still imagine him clearly: his forehead creased and eyebrows knitted together in acute focus. His knuckles were white from the intense grip he had on his stick, and his deep brown eyes burned with determination as they followed the puck. his graceful movements made him a sight to behold, like a dancer perfectly choreographed to the symphony of flying pucks and clacking sticks.

it doesn’t matter how many games you’d been given the chance to attend, you were left breathless by his performance every single time. clutching the edge of your usual seat, front and centre where heeseung could easily spot you, decked out in his attire per his own request.

time passed in a blur, and before long the arena was empty save for heeseung. lying prone on the ice with his hands covering his face in jubilation, he hadn't moved since their victorious moment. his joy was palpable even from a distance, and it felt as though they had truly achieved something remarkable.

“you gonna lay there forever, winner?” words echoing off of the walls, you step onto the ice, mindful of how easy it would be for you to break your neck. yanked back to reality, heeseung looks up just in time to see you stumble on the ice and he's on his feet within moments. you both share a chuckle as you gain your balance, grateful that the chilly air of the rink can be blamed for your flushed state. "whoops! forgot how easy it is to fall.”

endeared by your entire essence, heeseung takes your hands into his sending shivers down your spine and not just because of the harsh bite of the air. you reciprocate the gesture with a squeeze of his hands, allowing him to gently draw you into his embrace. He leans down without much hesitation, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss conveying every emotion present in his body.

“you know, the win is all down to you,” his breath paints your lips as he rests his forehead against your own, hands still intertwined. there’s never been a time during your relationship where heeseung hasn’t attributed every victory to you, claiming you were the strength behind every performance. you were his encouragement, without you he wouldn’t play nearly as well — at least, that’s what he believes.

gently prying your hands from his, you snake your arms around his neck feeling an army of tingles invade your body when his fingers slither around your waist, somehow flushing you even closer to him. sweetly, you press a kiss to his chin.

“that’s all you, hee.” he shakes his head with a quiet hum of disapproval but you insist. “it is!”

instead of replying, heeseung slides his head into your neck, showering your skin with playful kisses. he could be reveling in success with his teammates, but he has no desire. Instead, he takes solace in the comforting arms of the one he loves deeply, exactly where he wants to be.

whether you want to believe it or not, heeseung knows that he wouldn't have done as well without you in the stands, decked out in his clothes. you are his driving force, pushing him to go beyond his limits and perform above expectations. your presence is a source of strength and courage, giving him the motivation to strive harder and achieve more.

his good luck charm.

[toasttt11]

fighting

September 23, 2017

Hayden squeezed the water bottle eagerly drinking water as she tried to catch her breath after her extra long shift on the ice. She had been playing on a line with Trevor and Matt this game, a line she hasn’t played much yet with so it has been extra fun for her.

Hayden narrowed her eyes watching the same player who has been annoying the entire game, her jaw clenched seeing the player slam into Jack. Cole shoved the player away from Jack as Alex helped Jack back up.

Jack looked over at Hayden and gave her reassuring nod as he rolled his shoulders back and got ready for the play to began again.

Hayden narrowed her eyes not liking the way the player has been acting the entire game so far and the comments he has been making but especially at Jack and herself.

She fixed her gloves before sliding over the boards and hopping back onto the ice and immediately grabbing the puck and starting to down the ice when she was smacked from behind and fell down on the ice.

Hayden groaned annoyed as she just got crossed check in the back and she stood back up and saw the annoying player standing their with a smug grin and she knew he was the one who hit her from behind, she grinned sharply as she now how an excuse to punch him.

“Maybe you should try the girls league.” The player condescendingly told her with an annoyingly smug grin.

She just grinned at him and immediately dropped her glove and punched him across the face making him groan and his face snap harshly to the side, “How’s that for a girl.” Hayden sassed back with a mocking smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at her and threw a punch but she just ducked his fist and punched him across the face again making him blink dizzily and try to punch her again.

Hayden was quicker than him and easily dodged his punches and continued to punch his across the face and made his nose start bleeding.

Jack was grinning proudly as he watched his best friend completely win the fight.

Matt was on the ice and let Hayden fight because he has heard the comment and he saw the hit Hayden got so the player deserved a few punches and he knew Hayden can fight her own battle. He gave her some time punching the player before he skated over and gently grabbed Hayden away as the referee grabbed the other player.

“You’re no fun.” Hayden pouted as she let Matt drag her away. Hayden took a deep breath trying to calm her heart back down from all anger and adrenaline as she focused on Matt’s hands that were resting on her arms.

“Hey you totally beat him and now he knows not to ever say shit again.” Matt calmly told her with an amused grin, “You didn’t need to fight any more.”

Hayden scrunched her nose agreeing that Matt was correct but she wasn’t gonna admit it right then, “Yeah, yeah.” Hayden mumbled and waved bye to Matt as the referee came to her and guided her off the ice as she was ejected for fighting.

Hayden watched the rest of the game from the locker room as there was only a bit left of the third period when she left, they easily won.

She got cleaned up and back into her outfit and walked out of the locker room with Jack seeing their family together.

Hayden grinned seeing the proud smile on her Dad’s face, Harrison immediately high fived her once she was near him and then pulled her into a tight hug, “Beautiful right hook darling.” Harrison proudly told her. He loves watching her fight and easily beating the boys especially as they are all bigger than her.

Once Hayden said she wanted to play hockey, Harrison signed her up for fighting classes, she was very young but from a young age she learned how to fight and protect herself on the ice.

Madison smiled watching her two loves together, she didn’t love watching her daughter getting into fights but she is proud of Hayden always winning.

Hayden let go of her father and turned to her mother, Maddison smoothed down some of Hayden’s little curls, “Well done.” Maddison softly praised her daughter.

Hayden beamed in response and eagerly leaned into her mother’s side feeling her Dad’s hand on her shoulder.

She watched as Luke and Jack playfully argued with other as Quinn laughed at them. Ellen and Maddison sharing fond looks as the boys were arguing. Jim being a silent but always a comforting present. Harrison smiling at his family as he kept one arm over his wife and daughter.

There was no where else Hayden would rather be than be with all of her family. It was where she felt the most balanced, the most peaceful.