#Bob Lutz | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

avatar-anna · 1 year ago

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When You Fall In Love...

so i've been reading icebreaker and it's been putting me in the hockeyrry mood

part one, part two, bonus, bonus

Harry watched from the empty stands as Y/n ran through her routine for the fifth time. Her teammates had gone home, her coach asked Harry if he would lock up on the way out, and now it was just the two of them in the empty rink. There wasn't even any music playing anymore, Y/n was just skating and performing her tricks as if there was.

Every time she did it, it was flawless. Her routine was fast and intense and incredibly difficult, but Y/n performed with ease every time. She landed her tricks like they were nothing, tricks which Harry now knew the names of and could tell the difference between a lutz and an axel. She was incredible, and he was in awe of her every single time.

But even in her perfection, Y/n had yet to smile once.

Harry decided she'd had enough after she finished her fifth run-through, quickly jogging down to the edge of the rink before she could skate out to the middle again. He leaned over the barricade and kissed the top of her head. This close to her, he could see her rosy cheeks and heaving chest, a sign that her routine did wear her out, despite making it look so effortless.

"You were phenomenal as usual, baby," Harry said while he gathered her things.

"I bobbled a landing and my timing was off for a whole four counts," was her reply.

Harry frowned, not pleased by her recent negativity. Any athlete could be critical of their ability, but Y/n seemed uncharacteristically hard on herself lately, and he had no idea why. "Everything okay?" He asked, shouldering her duffle bag as they walked away from the rink.

"I'm fine."

She certainly didn't sound fine, but Harry decided not to push. Not now, anyway. Changing the subject, he said, "I got an email from the recruiter. I should be receiving my contract soon."

Excitement didn't even begin to cover how Harry had been feeling lately. Last week, he'd met with an agent of a minor league hockey team, one that was a feeder to an NHL team. He expressed their interest in Harry moving to the east coast after graduation and join them for spring training. And after giving it some thought, Harry accepted.

He was over the moon, thrilled that years of hard work was finally paying off. He'd made his passion into a career, and had the potential to really make a name for himself. Life couldn't have been better.

But where Harry seemed to be flying high, Y/n seemed stuck. She was happy for him when he told her the news, had gone out to celebrate with him that night. But something felt off between them. Harry couldn't put a name to it, but he just knew.

"That's great," Y/n said with no amount of enthusiasm in her voice. Harry tried not to take it to heart, she was clearly in a mood from her practice. She was under a lot of pressure too, he reminded himself, and sometimes had a knack for not knowing how to express herself with words.

"Is there something on your mind? You've been quiet recently," he said, hoping he wasn't overstepping her delicate boundary.

Y/n shook her head as she approached her car, sliding into the driver's seat without a word. Harry couldn't help but feel more and more like there was something on her mind, but he let it go again.

Before pulling the car out of the parking lot, Y/n rested her hand over his and leaned in to kiss him. "I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"It's okay. As long as you know you can talk to me about it."

Her throat bobbed, but she nodded, then turned her focus toward the road. Harry filled the silence with rambling. He talked mostly about the NHL, about his contract and where he wanted to live and how everything was happening so fast.

So caught up in trying to break the tension, he didn't notice Y/n's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

*.*

"Styles! What the hell are you doing? Focus up! Let's go!"

Harry rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily during the brief pause in the game. His eyes flicked up to the stands, searching the crowd for a familiar face, but he didn't see the one he needed the most.

Despite being recruited by a minor league hockey team, Harry was probably having the worst game of his life.

Not one pass connected, he was letting second-rate players get by him, and he'd spent more time in the penalty box than in the actual game. Nothing about this was right, and still all he could do was look for Y/n.

She wasn't there, and even though things had been weird between them recently, he was still surprised. When she wasn't at a competition of her own, Y/n came to every one of Harry's games. It had started out as Harry wanting to impress her, maybe show off a little, and then as time went on and they grew closer and their relationship became more than two people having sex in secret, he wanted her to be there just because it felt good knowing she was watching him play. All his nerves floated away when Y/n was sat in the stands, sometimes in his jersey, cheering him on.

And of course there were times when she couldn't come, but this wasn't one of those times. Y/n had purposely not shown up. He knew they'd fought before the game, but he didn't think she would abandon him just to be petty. They were past that now.

His sole focus should've been on the game he was playing, but instead his mind kept drifting to the fight.

Harry could feel Y/n pulling away from him. He finally felt like he was getting everything he wanted—a spot on a minor league hockey team on the east coast that would eventually lead him to the NHL, graduating with semi-decent grades thanks to Y/n, and of course being with his dream girl. At first, she'd seen him as some douchey athlete that was only good for one thing. He remembered seeing her for the first time their freshman year, performing tricks on the ice that he'd only ever seen on TV, and when he whistled and clapped loudly—perhaps a little obnoxiously—after she'd finished, she'd rolled her eyes at him and told him to fuck off.

It was love at first sight.

Harry had been so careful around Y/n. He played by her rules and followed her lead, trying not to let the comments about them not dating get to him too much. He liked their initial dynamic, finding it funny when he got under her skin because she made it so easy. It became a kind of game, this push and pull that was fun and exciting and eventually led to their arrangement.

He knew that she cared about him on some level, he just needed to bide his time and show her he wasn't who she thought he was. Not entirely, anyway. And when she finally did, and they became more than just people who screwed around, everything was perfect.

They'd been through so much together. Y/n pushed Harry to be better, and he worked with her to master new tricks and nail her routine. There wasn't anyone else who understood his level of commitment to hockey, but she did, and that just made him love her more.

So when he got the call offering him a spot on the minor league team, Y/n was the first person Harry told. She'd been happy for him, and he was over the moon, his mind already making a million plans—where they'd live, her coming to his games, him helping her find a new rink to train at. It felt like the doors to a new and exciting world had opened for them, but she then she started pulling back, and Harry practically watched as that door slammed shut.

Harry pushed himself to focus back on the game, on the hockey stick in his hand and the ice beneath his skates. He felt like it took more effort than it should've to get his head back in the game, but his team managed to pull out a win, and he managed not to get benched before it happened. That didn't stop his coach from ripping him a new one in the locker room, but Harry sat there and took it, shaking his head and promising his piss poor performance would never happen again.

Exhausted both physically and mentally, he trudged out of the locker room and toward the parking lot, debating whether to take the bus home or call an Uber. Even in his senior year, he still didn't have a car, but Y/n was usually there to give him a ride home. To their home. Moving in together for their last year of school seemed like a no-brainer, and it had been amazing so far, though the last week had been kind of a disaster. Harry could feel the tension between them growing, but every time he asked Y/n about it, she'd say she was fine even though they both knew everything was not fine, and the cycle continued. He wanted to be excited, he wanted to celebrate the success he'd managed to create for himself, but he felt rather deflated instead.

To Harry's surprise, Y/n was waiting for him in the parking lot. He didn't hesitate putting his gear in the trunk and coming around to sit in the passenger seat. Y/n leaned in to kiss him immediately holding onto the sides of his face fervently.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry for not being here tonight and I'm sorry for acting strange, and I'm sorry for—"

"Y/n, what's going on with you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Can we wait until we get home to talk?" She asked. I want to be able to talk to you properly, and I can't if I'm driving.

When Harry nodded, Y/n must've deemed it enough. She peeled away from the rink, silent tension filling the air between once again. It had been following them around all week.

That ended tonight, though. He didn't care how much Y/n hated confrontation or hard conversations. They couldn't move forward if they didn't move past this roadblock first. Harry loved Y/n more than he ever thought possible, and stubborn as she was, he knew she loved him just as much. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter how hard she tried to fight him on the way down.

*.*

"Y/n, you know I would be ecstatic if you'd told me you qualified for the Olympics. This is a huge step in my career! Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am! God, Harry, I am."

"Then why are you pulling away from me? I feel like I can't be excited about this around you when you're the one person who should understand how this feels."

"I can't do this. I can't have this argument with you," you said, trying to step away from him.

Harry was quick to grab your hands in his, keeping you from walking away. "What aren't you telling me? Do you want to break up?"

"No!

"Do you not love me anymore? What? What is it, Y/n?"

"God, I didn't—I didn't ask for this," you cried, feeling like a damn had burst inside you. It was out now, and now you had to see it through to the end. "I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I wasn't prepared to love you this much. You're the one who wanted to take things further, and now you're—"

You're leaving me, you couldn't bring yourself to say. You really were happy for him. All of his dreams were coming true, and he had an ambition that matched yours, which made you love him more. And now that ambition was taking him far away from you, and you weren't handling it as well as you thought you would.

"Y/n—"

"I'm happy for you, H, I'm so happy for you that I could burst. And maybe even a little jealous," you joked, though there was some truth to what you said. "But I guess I just...I guess I didn't expect to love you this much. And I don't—I don't know what to do because you're going soon and I'm..."

You had no clue, and that alone was terrifying.

At the start of all this, you never imagined falling in love with Harry. He drove you absolutely insane, and despite your physical attraction to him, you kept your distance. But he kept doing these things that made you like him, and eventually care about him, and finally made you fall in love with him. It just wasn't something you saw coming. Love was definitely not on the brain when you met Harry.

Because you knew this moment was inevitable. The moment when one of you would be given an opportunity you couldn't refuse and would pull you away from each other. Once upon a time, you thought you would be given your dream job of a lifetime—competitive skating and hopefully the Olympics—but somewhere down the line, skating stopped bringing you joy, only pressure and anxiety. And now Harry had his dream job on the other side of the country, and you were left to flounder and wonder how you would survive waking up without him next to you.

"You're making it seem like it's a bad thing that you're in love with me," Harry said quietly, but the low tone of his voice didn't hide anything. You knew he was getting upset. After all the avoidance the last week—on your part—yours and his emotions were coming to a head.

"It's not! It's just that you're leaving!" you said, resisting the urge to run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And all week you've talked about how excited to get out of here and leave this all behind and start a new chapter in your life. I mean, would it kill you to act like you're a little torn up about leaving?"

It was so selfish, and you knew it was. It was why you'd been avoiding Harry, this conversation. Harry had every right to be proud and ecstatic for leaving to play in the professional league. He worked so hard, pushed himself farther than anyone you'd ever met, except for maybe you. Your pain was clouding your good sense, and now you'd shown just how horrible you could really be.

You couldn't look him in the eye after saying what you did. Even if it was how you felt, you still felt ashamed for raining on Harry's parade. "Y/n—" he tried to say when you hastily wiped a tear from your eye.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry," you said, getting up from the couch and scurrying off to your bedroom.

Flopping on the bed, you pulled the covers over you, trying to hide from everything happening around you. It was too much. Your senior year was supposed to be fun and full of unforgettable memories, not arguments and heartache.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before the door opened and Harry slipped inside. He slid into bed next to you, and you didn't fight it when he rested his face in the crook of your neck. Because despite everything you were feeling, this was all you really needed.

"I'm not leaving you behind," he murmured gently. "You mean too much to me."

You sniffled, and Harry pulled you closer to his chest. "You're going to be thousands of miles away."

"Says who?" he said, kissing your cheek. "Who says you aren't coming with me?"

"And do what?" you huffed, even though the thought slightly lifted your spirits. "Be one of your...puck whatevers and follow you around like a puppy? I need a life of my own too."

You were being stubborn and argumentative and you both knew it. There was some relief in knowing Harry wanted you with him, but you also didn't want to just move because Harry was. You needed purpose, you needed to feel like your life had some sort of direction in it. But it was unfair to put all of that on Harry, and you didn't know how to express how you felt without sounding insane, so instead you said nothing, and that obviously went over brilliantly.

Harry chuckled. "See, because you just said how in love you are with me, I can tell that you're frosty attitude is just an act. Now turn over and look at me."

You reluctantly turned over, brow furrowed exaggeratedly because you couldn't cross your arms over your chest. It used to infuriate you how easily Harry could get under your skin because he knew you so well, that he knew just what to do or say to pull you out of a bad mood. In this moment, you were thankful. He could see past all the harsh words and see to the root of the problem. You'd said some things that were perhaps out of order, but Harry understood. Despite everything, he understood.

"You've worked just as hard as me, Y/n. I want to be there for you the way you've been for me. You can achieve your goals too."

"I just...I don't know if I want to achieve them anymore," you said quietly.

It was the first time you'd said it out loud. Since you'd learned to skate, there had only been one goal: the Olympics. Getting there wasn't just a matter of training, it was about devoting your life to your craft, it was barely having a life outside of training and competitions and giving all your time to winning. And after spending nearly your entire life doing it, you felt yourself slowly burning out. You'd go through your routines flawlessly, but your heart wasn't in it. All you could think about was the future—the next competition, the next training session, the next qualifier. It took seeing Harry so happy about being drafted to the minor leagues to realize the fire had gone out in you. Thinking of Olympic qualifiers and training and affording coaches and costumes and picking the right music only filled you with dread when you should've felt joy.

"Oh."

"But I don't know who I am if I don't have skating."

"You don't have to compete to skate, you know," Harry said. He rested his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your temple lightly. "You can c—"

"Oh God, don't say coach," you groaned. "It's perfect. You'll be a hockey superstar and I'll be the washed-up figure skater who couldn't handle the pressure of being an athlete and wound up coaching instead."

"I know you're being like this because you're scared, and that's okay," he said. "But I'll help you find a new dream, Y/n. I promise."

You had to blink away tears because your heart couldn't take how much he cared about you. "Even when I've been a complete bitch?"

"You haven't been. I'm sorry if you felt like I was leaving you behind. I guess in my mind we would always be together, no matter where we ended up."

"God I hate how much I love you sometimes," you grumbled while flinging yourself on top of Harry and holding him tight. "It's too much, you're too much, and I can't stand it—"

"There's a compliment in there somewhere, right?" Harry asked, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Sitting up, you perched yourself on him, your legs straddling his waist. Dipping down, you made sure your noses were brushing, but you didn't close the distance. Not yet. Your heart was racing simply because Harry had been so kind to you, because he knew you so well and said exactly what you needed to hear. It felt ridiculous to know that there was a time when he pissed you off so much you saw red, that his teasing remarks and cocky grin grated on your nerves. Now you didn't want to imagine a life without him.

"I'm sorry for saying all of those things," you murmured. "I really am proud of you. No one deserves this more than you do."

Harry's hand reached up and threaded through your hair, his fingers gentle as they passed over your scalp. "I know you are. And I mean it, Y/n. I'll help you. I know you love to skate, we just have to find a way to channel that into something else. If not coaching, maybe performing?"

"What? Like Disney on Ice?" you asked skeptically, your nose wrinkling at the thought.

Harry shrugged as his hand dipped beneath your shirt to stroke your back. "You'd be a cute princess."

"With my luck, they'd make me a tree."

"Then you'd be the cutest tree there ever was."

Shaking your head, you nudged your nose against his again. "Can we hit pause on talking about the future? I just want to be with you here. Right now."

"Course," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked grin. "And then maybe we can circle back to you being my puck whatever."

"Shut up."

"Make me!"

And that was something you knew how to do better than your skating routine.

#harry styles #hockey player!harry styles #ice skater!y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #hockeyrry

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oldluvr · 2 months ago

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BOB LUTZ Bulge

#silverfox #grandpa #handsome daddy #mature man

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blairamok · 7 months ago

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i love watching figure skating coach cams. gives me food for crowley as aziraphale’s coach… he would be at the boards pacing nervously, watching aziraphale like a hawk. muttering to himself, bobbing along with the choreography, whooping and banging on the boards when aziraphale nails that lutz (the thing they have been working so hard on). good skates are especially tippy tappy inducing

#on thin ice #my skating AU is officially one year old :)

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mothdruid · 1 year ago

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Cut The Ice - Part One

series masterlist | prologue | part two

pairing.

jake 'hangman' seresin x afab!reader

word count.

2.8k

warnings.

this fic is meant for those who are 18+. swearing.

authors note.

heyy, we get to see the gang this time! i hope you all enjoy this chapter! also, mav dad makes an appearance

Anger boiled under your skin. This guy was really living up to all the shit Bradley had complained about. There was this arrogance that floated around him. An arrogance that was pissing you off. You tapped your index finger against your lips repeatedly, thinking about all the ways you could get out of this. It wasn’t going to be easy, seeming as Mav hand fucking picked him. But hey, you could try at least.

“You good?” Nat’s words barely pulled you from your train of thought.

Your finger was still tapping against your lips.

“Hmm?”

“You’re doing that thing,” Nat said.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you responded.

Nat rolled her eyes at you.

“Well, find me when you’ve decided to talk about it,” with that Nat skated off.

You watched her meet up with a few others at practice, including her own partner. A bit of jealousy festered in your midsection. Natasha had been very lucky, having known Bob forever. You yearned for that type of security with your partner. Brigham had brought that to you a little, the two of you meeting in high school when he moved to the area. You two didn’t start skating together until after high school though, proving to be a powerful pair. But no matter how many times you had hit the ice with him, it never felt perfect.

Eventually the tapping of your finger stopped against your lips. You pressed your fingertip to your lips, holding it there as you thought. There was no way in hell this was going to work. Jake was too much of an egotistical asshole for you to trust him to that degree. You had been counting down the minutes until everyone else got there this morning. Normally, you basked in the silent time of the early morning at the arena. But this asshole ruined it all. You clenched your hand together, setting the part near your thumb and index finger on your mouth.

How could Mav do this to you? Better yet, how could have Bradley known and not told you? Bradley was just as guilty in this situation as Mav.

Your fist dissipated as you started to skate. You let the sound of your skates skimming the ice fill your brain. Let it consume and coat every crevice in your mind. As much as you currently hated this situation, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. Nothing else would make you feel better except skating. So, you took off.

You gained speed rather quickly, keeping in and tight on yourself. After guiding yourself between the other bodies of the ice, you let go. Hands moving up your outer thighs and sides, gathering all the irritation flowing in your body. They slowly crept up your midsection, chest, and neck. It was therapeutic, even though you knew it wouldn’t erase everything from the day.

One of your hands moved to your throat, the other gracing the base of your head and neck. You let yourself drift around the outer edge of the rink, following its shape. Your hand graced up and off your throat and neck. Extending your arms out and up, letting most of the irritation leave through your fingertips. As you rounded the edge of the rink you did a small turn around, leading into back crossovers to gain more speed. Without a second thought you lifted off, doing a double lutz, landing with precision and one leg extended backwards to balance you out.

As you were coming out of your jump you looked over. There was a cluster of people near the rink entrance. But a little ways away from the cluster you saw him. Green eyes met yours, locking as he watched you. Jake was currently resting near the wall of the rink, leaning against it. It was that similar predatory look he gave you earlier. Not wavering once as he watched you.

You were the first to break the staring contest, heading towards the cluster of people. Mickey was the first to notice you, smiling and giving you a little wave. Then the rest followed, welcoming you into the little group. At first you didn’t give much attention to the conversation, just wanting to be distracted for the time being. Your mind seemed to wander though, eventually dissociating from everything around you for the time being.

“When are you gonna introduce us?” Mickey asked.

Your dissociated mind didn’t pick up on the question. Or at least didn’t pick up that it was directed towards you. It was only once Natasha bumped her shoulder into yours, knocking you out of your dissociation. You blinked a few times, taking in all the odd looks from everyone else.

“What?”

Mickey rolled his eyes.

“I asked when you are going to introduce us to your partner.”

“Oh, that, I uh-”

“Come on, you guys know him already.”

You turned to see Bradley looming over you. A soft smile settled on his lips when he looked at you. The warmth of his eyes was starting to warm you, penetrating the icy wall you put up earlier that day.

“We know of him, we don’t know him.” Bob countered.

“He’s an asshole with a big ego, there’s not much else to know.” Bradley said, not giving you any room to talk.

It was honestly irritating. Yeah, Jake was an egotistical asshole, but it didn’t give Bradley much room to talk. He was guilty of not letting you know about this arrangement. As much as it pained you, you knew you’d have to open up to Jake sooner or later. Maybe even put an ounce of trust in him. You rolled your shoulders a little, straightening your posture.

“Bradley, all you know him from is comp, and I don’t think that means much.” The words slipped out, but you honestly didn’t care at that point. Bradley had known that Jake was who Mav found for you and said nothing. A little hostility from you was what he deserved.

With that you turned around, not caring to see the slightly hurt look on Bradley’s face. He would get over it, it’s not like he truly cared anyways. If he did he would have agreed to be your partner, earn the gold with you. You skated away, looking back once to see Natasha watching you, an amused grin planted on her face. A small amount of joy bubbled in your chest, knowing you were able to assume Natasha. It wasn’t that Nat hated Bradley, honestly quite the contrary. But Nat did love when Bradley was put in his place.

You weren’t sure when Jake had started skating again. You took interest to him this time, similar to how you did earlier that morning. Watching the way his legs stabilized him after every jump, arms never hanging dead at his sides, hair cascading down across his face. A warmth blossomed in your cheeks. The way he skated was borderline perfect. No wonder Bradley hated him, he had the skill to backup his ego. The way he knew the perfect way to make his jumps flow into whatever made up routine in his head. It was like watching a Renaissance painting being made. Each jump a perfect stroke on the canvas, dance steps all needed shading, movements minute details that pulled it together. You couldn’t stop watching.

His eyes green eyes met yours, not letting your gaze go. Jake made his way over to you, finally. You stood there waiting as if you were a princess and your knight was on his way to you. The emerald hues only became more noticeable when he was closer, drawing you in more.

“Are you goin’ to play nice?” A hint of his drawl came through.

“Depends, are you goin’ to be an asshole?” You asked back, mocking his drawl.

He let out an amused huff, smiling a little. That’s when he offered you his hand.

The world around you went silent. There was no more hum of the lights or scattered chats of your friends. There was only you and Jake when you took his hand. Your eyes barely left his, an almost hypnotic affect on his part you thought. All you two did was some simple side by side skating, your body slotted closely to his. Your hands were in his, guiding you around the arena like a puppet. His hands then slipped to your waist, making sure you stayed at a safe distance. The two of you eventually slowed to a stop, separating a reasonable distance.

“Now was that so hard?” Jake asked.

All peace or semblance of understanding you felt before evaporated.

“What does that mean?” You questioned.

“I’m just saying, it’s not hard to just skate together, whether we like each other or not.”

You let out a scoff. The fucking nerve of this guy, he truly knew how to ruin a moment.

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You gave him a face of disgust and astonishment.

“So I’ve been told,” Jake’s lips curved into a shit eating grin, “my point still stands though.” With that Jake took a step back then skated to the entrance of the rink. He slipped the guards on his skates, leaving the rink for the locker rooms.

Irritation was bubbling under your skin, but there was a hint of something else too. Maybe Jake wasn’t wrong. Maybe the two of you could work well, even if you didn’t like each other. People who didn’t like each other worked together all the time. You had heard all of the stories about Tom and Pete. The two of them bitter rivals, eventually forming a bond and then becoming coaches together. Ice would have never let this happen, he would have never let Mav put you through this type of embarrassment.

Whatever the outcome, it had to work.

Everyone had cleared out already, the rink empty once again. You sat in the stands, the middle section that gave a perfect view of the whole arena. Your feet were planted flat on the floor, duffle bag on the floor near you, arms crossed on your knees as you looked out. All you could think about was what Jake had said earlier. Footsteps interrupted your train of thought. You looked over to see one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Hey, kid,” Mav said as he took a few more steps towards you. He eventually paused, gesturing if he could take a seat next to you.

You offered the spot on the bench next to you. Mav took a seat, grabbing his knee and sighing as he sat down.

“Don’t get old,” Mav sighed again.

“Shocked you can still walk around, old man,” the both of you let out a chuckle.

“Me too sometimes.”

Silence hung between the two of you. The two of you sat there, looking out at the ice. You wondered what thoughts were swirling in his mind. Was he regretting finding you a new partner? Or was he thinking of what he was going to have for dinner? Maybe thinking about visiting Penny and Amelia later.

“I’m sorry.”

Your brow furrowed. You knew what the apology was for, but it still felt out of left field.

“I don’t kno-”

“Don’t play that game, I know you. It’s not hard to tell when you’re frustrated, I could see it all day. You were tense, not as lax as you normally are while out there. Especially, when Jake was around you.”

You rolled your eyes, straightening your posture up before leaning back against the bench behind you. Of course Mav saw through your façade, why wouldn’t he?

“Have you even talked to the guy?” You asked.

“I have,” Mav responded.

“And?”

“And he has an ego,” Mav said reluctantly.

“Exactly!”

“But-”

“But? What but? There are no buts, he is an egotistical asshole.” Your irritation had been reignited.

You turned, facing Pete now. He had a subtle look of sadness on his face. He opened his mouth a little, closing it again into a firm line. He took in a deep breath, knowing this conversation wasn’t going to be easy with you.

“He is egotistical, but he is what you need. He can get you what you want.” Pete said with a more fatherly tone.

“Yeah? And what is it that I want?” You looked over at Mav with sarcastic smile, wondering what he might think you want.

“Gold,” Mav looked at you, a careful look in his gaze.

“All of us want that,” you gestured to the empty rink, “it’s the dream of being a figure skater. What I want is someone I can trust.”

“And you can’t get that with Jake?” Mav asked.

You mouth opened, pausing for a moment before answering, “I’m not sure.”

It was the honest truth. You weren’t sure if you could put your trust into Jake. Kind and well-liked skaters were all you dealt with prior. Hell, even skated with prior. Thoughts from earlier resurfaced, making you think about when the two of you were on the ice together. The world had gone quiet when his hands were on your waist, firm body behind yours, guiding you across the ice. You had felt secure and safe, like he wouldn’t let anything happen to you for that small period of time.

“Give it a week, if not I’ll give him the boot,” Mav said, smile on his lips now.

A week, you could do that. Putting up with a cocky ass, couldn’t be that bad. You gave Mav a curt nod, standing up with grabbing your duffle. As you headed to the door you made a promise to yourself. A promise you intended to keep.

That next morning you made sure to pay attention to the parking lot. A sleek black car caught your attention, a smirk forming on your face. You made your way into the arena, a swift pace to your steps. You needed to get this relationship established early, without anyone else present.

The rink was empty, similar to the previous morning. You made your way to the locker room. Instead of entering, you leaned against the wall in between the doors to the male and female locker rooms. You kept your duffle secure on your shoulder, squeezing the strap tightly. This had to work.

Shortly after taking your spot against the wall, the door of the male locker room opened. Jake was in all black once again. A black long sleeve shirt and black form fitting athletic pants. His skates were slung over his shoulder, one resting on his chest while the other was against his back. His golden locks were messy, hand combing through them as he noticed you. A small smirk forming on his lips.

“Well, good morning sweet heart,” Jake’s voice was still a little husky from the morning.

“Good morning,” you tried to keep your cool, “one, I am not your sweetheart. Two, I will work with you.”

Jake snickered at your words.

“You don’t have much of a choice, I was the only person who offered to work with you.” Jake moved closer to you.

He placed a hand against the wall behind you. Jake was now standing face the face with you, him practically trapping you against the wall. Green eyes roamed all over your face, eventually looking down at your lips, then moving back to your eyes.

“I know, but I need to know I can trust you, know that you won’t drop me.”

“Like Brig did?” The question fell from his lips quickly.

“Don’t.”

Jake studied your face for a moment. As unfazed as you seemed to be, it was obvious that he was already getting under your skin. You took a deep breath, taking in his musky pinewood scent.

“I won’t drop you,” Jake leaned in a little closer to you, “I’ll be better.”

Your heart was suddenly pounding. His words were true, sincere to the fullest degree. Jake’s face was only a few inches away from yours. Everything in you wanted to shove him back, but something was stopping you. Instead you stared him directly in the eyes, not breaking contact.

“You better not,” the words came out barely above a whisper.

“Or what?” A playful yet low tone was weaved into his words.

“Or I’ll ruin you,” it wasn’t true, but you didn’t know what else to say.

“Trust me, you already have.”

You swallowed hard, his hot breath fanning over your face lightly. Jake made a soft noise before standing back up straight. He took a step back, then headed towards the rink entrance. You eye lashes fluttered, shocked at what Jake just said. You looked over for a moment, seeing him looking back at you.

“I’ll see you on the ice in five, Yukon.”

tags: @thedroneranger @inky-sun

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x female!reader #figure skater! jake seresin #top gun fic #jake seresin fic #cut the ice

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cool-birchbarlow-blog · 1 year ago

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Bob Lutz

What a stud! 😛🤤

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dozydawn · 2 years ago

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“Figure skater Oksana Baiul realizes she has won gold, 1994. At her side are coaches Galina Zmievskaya and Valentin Nikolayev.”

Photographed by Phil O’Brien, Eileen Langsley, Chris Cole, Bob Martin, Wally McNamee, and Lutz Bongarts.

#oksana baiul #figure skating #1994 #1990s #crying #expression

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dhampiravidi · 6 months ago

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statistical character personality test

take the linked quiz from the perspective of your character, then select 5 - 10 results from the complete matches list that you feel resonate with your character the most.

for me -

Felix Lutz from Westworld - 74% (IDK who that is)

Tina Belcher from Bob's Burgers - 74% (makes sense)

Bella Swan from Twilight - 72% (oh no)

Hughie Campbell from The Boys - 72% (I did something wrong)

Kate Pearson from This is Us - 71% (show should've ended early)

Violet Parr from The Incredibles - 70% (I don't mind this)

The Narrator from Fight Club - 68% (wheeeee chaos)

Will Graham from Hannibal - 68% (both queer psychos 👌🏽)

Frodo Baggins from Lord of the Rings - 67% (m'kay)

Sam & Cas from SPN - 66% (yay Cas! boo, Sam)

why is Juliet Capulet at 63%??? I'd never be in a rom-com as the lead bc I'm not dumb enough & I'm tragically single

for Jayn Loren-Wayne (DC Verse) -

Storm/Ororo from X-Men - 86% (I'm such a proud mom rn)

Abby Scuito from NCIS - 84% (watched 3 episodes. cool goth.)

Bonnie Bennett from TVD - 84% (I'm not crying....it's the MVP!!)

Black Panther from MCU - 82% (awesome)

Olivia Benson from Law & Order: SVU - 82% (cool!)

Mother's Milk from The Boys - 81% (badass)

Padme Amidala from Star Wars - 81% (sobbing)

Katara from ATLA - 80% (another badass)

Tonks from Harry Potter - 79% (cool scene woman

Buffy Summers from Buffy - 79%

the fact that half of these people are cool Black/Afr-Amer characters & that I love all of these characters feels so validating, considering that Jayn's my 1st OC who I've tried so hard to make cool but also flawed ;-; thank you everyone, I need no applause--

tagged by: @thecreativeforge (kinda)

tagging: @astral-athame @abrushwithdeath @ashortgothamite @eraserisms @etdraconis @starlsssankt + you!

note: I did the 140q for myself & the 36q for Jayn.

#personality quiz #That was fun #admin #jlw: aesthetic

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textingtroublesanswers · 8 months ago

Note

Kevin stares a bit at the other doves, ESPECIALLY the very heavy gaze of Archimedes and his wife, and Kevin gives a small head bob, he’s unfortunately unfamiliar with dove customs and gestures, he’s absolutely going to be reading in on it later especially with THE HEAD DOVE’s daughter in his sights. He’s startled, yes, but he’s a brave lil kiwi and he’s not losing his lady that easy. He’s gonna prove himself as a worthy companion for this weird but beautiful looking kiwi. Meanwhile Meras- Miss is busy literally now already making a scrapbook of her kiwi she’s had for 30 minutes. She’s unaware (ATM) of the forbidden romance but when Archimedes tells Lutz it’ll be interesting

Archimedes watches Kevin's head bob, & immediately gets pissed. Why are you flirting with his daughter! He starts cooing loudly & flapping his wings, stirring up a fuss amongst the rest of the other doves. Where is vati to take away this intruder?

#Texting Guests #tf2 #tf2 ask blog #tf2 archimedes

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frozen-borderline · 11 months ago

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Nico interview with Jim Condon

Naturally, I jumped at the chance to do the interview, which Nico would only allow in person. We met in New York, December 13th, 1980, at a bar near the Chelsea Hotel. She more closely resembled the cover photograph of June 1 1974 than any of the more recent pictures I've seen. She was dressed in her own inimitable style, clad in black boots, a black Moroccan shawl, and the same scarf she wore in the liner photos of the Neuronium album. She seemed to be in good spirits, despite a bad cold. She proceeded to Ferdinand's, a Spanish restaurant nearby. It was here the bulk of the interview was conducted, while we were treated royally by our bartender Willie.

Is "Henry Hudson" going to be on the new album?

Of course. What do you think? Would you like an argument?

Are you putting "You're Lost Little Girl" on it?

(laughs) What makes you think that?

You said you were thinking of recording it with Bobby Kreiger.

When did I say that? Three years ago?

Yes. You said that you have seven or eight songs written for the album.

Oh no. I have exactly 13 - my lucky number. Today is the 13th that you're here - right on the spot! I'm not quite here - you understand? I mean I really want to give you a good interview. I don't want just to babble.

Feel free. Do you have a contract for this album?

It's right in there, yes. (Gestures towards a manilla envelope lying on a table). It's not signed yet.

Do you know who will be producing?

Officially, Adrian Barber, but it will be me mainly. I have some good ideas about doing it. I'm very well oriented. I mean I'm really into everything, and I'm mainly into jazz. Not from the very beginning because I grew up with opera. I guess a combination of what I'm doing.

Do you listen to medieval baroque?

Not at all. I like guitar players. I like Guitarists like Larry Coryell.

Did you see Bowie in The Elephant Man?

No, it was too difficult to get in. I don't want to pay 20 bucks to get in there. I mean in Paris I always had free tickets easily, but over here I don't know, he protects himself too well I guess.

Are you using Lutz Ulbricht on this album?

He's not here. I would use him, but it depends on how big the budget is. I would really like Christian Vander from Magma... Have you ever had a Planter's Punch? I prefer the Myer's rum best. I am a rum fanatic.

Andy wrote about the time you drove him up to Ann Arbor in his book...(Andy said, "Nico's driving was really insane when we hit Ann Arbor. She was shooting across sidewalks and over people's lawns.")

(laughs) Oh my God. He was the only one who wasn't scared. He just couldn't care less. He figured that if I could take charge of 15 people on the bus, I have to be a good driver not a land in a ditch or something.

Lou Reed has written songs based on life at the Factory. Did you get any inspiration or material from it?

I wrote "The Falconer" for Andy. Do you remember "Innocent And Vain" from the last one? That is partially about the "Wanted Series." He painted a "Wanted Series" - men in profile and men facing you. That's when you get caught in jail...I think that's the most interesting series he's ever done, to be honest.

Do you like his new work?

We are not friendly enough that I should say that. I mean, if I were a materialist, I would say he owes me a lot of money.

How did you meet Andy?

I really met Andy and the whole group in Paris... He is too much of a businessman to be a true artist.

Did you think that Andy's new book is accurate?

I've read a passage, maybe. (Nico stars to apply makeup from a small compact). Oh my goodness - I look absolutely terrifying. He is too much of a businessman. Now he is getting his own TV show.

What's the name of it?

"Andy Warhol's Show". It has the same lettering as InterView magazine.

When did you meet Bob Dylan?

In Paris, when he was 20. I met him through a friend.

Did he play the piano on "I'll Keep It With Mine"?

He sent me the acetate because he had promised me a song for my singing, but it never went on a single, it just went on Chelsea Girls...There is something about your eyes that reminds me of Bob Dylan at that same age.

I've never been told that. What was he like when you knew him?

He was on junk.

I thought he was known to be on speed at that time. Maybe it was a little later.

You mean when he broke his neck? That's very easily possible. I wouldn't know about that. I was in Spain then.

What do you think of Dylan's Christianity?

I think he's a little too late all of a sudden to be writing about Christianity 11 or 12 years later. I mean if this is the promised land, I've just been crucified the past two weeks. It really hurts. I'm not kidding. I wouldn't look the way I look.

You look better than photographs of you at CBGB's.

That was last year, yes? Which one? You mean the one in Wet magazine? That horrible picture where I look like Mama Cass?

Do you listen to Arabian music?

First Spanish, because that's more important. It's so hard to sing. Wee-ly! Por favor! (More drinks and shrimps in green sauce. Nico selects Spanish music for the jukebox).

Did you ever meet John Lennon?

Yes. He was a wise guy. It (his assassination) had to happen sooner or later. It will happen to me too...(Referring to the music on the jukebox He used to be my favourite flamenco singer when I first went to Spain. I am going to get myself a fantastic flamenco dancer's suit. Not for women, but for men.

Are you going to wear a rose in your teeth?

No, that is for for women. I am talking about the men flamencos. They are so beautiful, the way it is designed.

Did you ever write any songs with Jim Morrison?

He told me that I should write songs for him and that he should write songs for me. One of them on the very first one - "Frozen Warnings." "Frozen Warnings" is about a hermit crossing the borderline... He was so much ashamed of his Christianity. He was a Jesus freak for a while. It was during the "Purple Haze" era. Were you already born then?

Yes, I was born in 1960.

You're only two years older than my son. I never knew I could write songs until I met Jim Morrison. He told me I should do this. He showed me how to do it, too.

When was the last time you saw him?

I knew him four or five years before he went to Paris. He only came to Paris because he had fallen off a roof and he hurt his lungs. He couldn't sing anymore. He was always coughing up blood. He was always climbing around the edge of the roof. It had to happen.

Do you think Brian Jones had a death wish?

Not at all. He was totally separate. Why Brian?

Some people have described him as being very self-destructive.

But a true artist must self-destruct.

Do you think that you're going to?

I think I'm already doing it. Don't you?

That's not for me to judge. I'd like to say that I don't see that happening.

Can't you tell by the way I live? It's a continual battle, a drama, being a stranger to myself. I don't have any references to know who I really am. I mean everyday.

I don't think anyone ever really knows.

I mean to be really always in exile. I'm a total stranger to myself. Expect sometimes when I get reminded.

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red-riding-wood · 2 years ago

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WIP Whenever

Tagging anyone I can think of who might want to do this but no pressure at all! @shelbydelrey @emotionalcadaver @emilynightshade89 @eclecticwildflowers @cillmequick @runnning-outof-time @zablife @poisonedtruth @moral-terpitude @confidentandgood

Snippets of my current WIPs below cut for anyone who's interested! It's a true rarity for me to do these lol but I've been sitting on a fair bit.

White Ribbon (Luca x OC)

My heart quickened in my chest. But I quirked my brow. “What sort of consequences?”

His pinky stilled where it had thrummed against the bloodied wood. “Would you like to find out?”

I looked from the intensity in his stare to the brittle pieces of the toothpick on the ground. I thought about how he had handled it with an almost delicate care yet snapped it as if it were the most fragile thing. And I thought, for one moment, maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to be paid such reverence by the same hand. And maybe, in some dark pocket of my soul that the light scarcely found, I wanted to be snapped in two.

---

Unnamed, Budapest (Dmitri x OC)

“You don’t seem to be very affected by the fact that your mother has just died,” I pointed out, and crossed my arms over my chest so that he would have less to ogle at.

Dmitri’s smile quirked, and he sipped at his whiskey before answering with a smooth baritone, “Why would I when I’m sitting next to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on?”

I wanted to throw up. Preferably right on his matching suit that sported not a single imperfection. Or maybe on the moustache that seemed to smile down at me, so artfully styled it could’ve been kept behind a display case in a museum.

His ruthlessness, perhaps, was the only thing I could commend him for.

This morning, my father and I had travelled to Schloss Lutz in the event of Madame D.’s untimely murder. While my father had paid his respects by her open casket, I had decided to head on to the reading of her will. But, now aware of the deplorable company, I would’ve much rather stayed with the corpse – hell, even my father.

I snatched the whiskey from Dmitri’s hand and chugged it.

---

Strangers (Peter Whitman x OC)

Shakily, I withdrew my leg from the demolished lenses that lay among the various wrappers and other garbage that littered the station, and reached my trembling fingers to a reddening cheek. I was exposed, and the world was too bright, and I needed to run back to the restroom and tuck my head between my knees.

But the world was also beautiful, in a way that sort of pinched my heart with longing. Vibrant hues of red and blue and green dotted the vendor stalls of the market, and the sun’s warming rays limned the ginger locks of my hair in gold. I turned from them and to the man who had bumped into me.

I couldn’t help but blink the mist from my eyes. I couldn’t help but stare. And neither could he. Long, nimble fingers pushed a pair of sunglasses – wide, vintage frames, lenses tinted with the faint shade of autumn – from his nose, revealing upturned brows and entranced green irises. Dark hair that might’ve been a jet black in the lower light flopped over his forehead and teased the outer edges of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice quiet but somehow the only thing I heard past the chatter of the tourists and locals and the haggling of the vendors. He swallowed, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing along a gently sun-kissed throat. He was American, like me, but wasn’t dressed as casually as the other tourists; he wore light grey dress pants with a matching suit jacket over a white, button-up shirt. Was he here on some kind of business, I thought, before realizing that he seemed a little too lost, a little too bright-eyed.

---

Unnamed Arthur Request (Arthur Shelby x Reader)

(A.N. To the lovely anon who requested this, I'm so sorry it's taking me so long! I have about a page written for it so far I just need to pick it back up and finish it after some massive writer's block.)

Under your touch, he settled, if only slightly; it had been proven, time and time again, to tame the beast inside him. But his chest still heaved, and with a gentle finger you wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

“Arthur,” you said again to ground him, as his gaze began to wander anywhere but your face. “I hate seeing you like this, picking fights everywhere you go.”

Sometimes you wondered if you had made him worse. Ever since you’d started dating the eldest Shelby brother, he’d found more and more excuses to punch or bludgeon whoever looked at you the wrong way. Though your touch may have soothed him, your existence only stoked the fire that burned bright in his damaged soul.

“What am I supposed to do, then, eh?” he said, exhaustion working its way past the thorns of his tone, and his forehead brushed yours, unruly locks of brown hair tickling your lashes.

You inhaled his scent – the sharp spice of his aftershave, the sweat of his ire, the musk that was so uniquely him that you couldn’t help but feel at home each time you breathed it. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you cocked your head at him slightly as an idea formed in your head.

#wip #wip whenever #s: white ribbon #strangers #dmitri x alice #and also an arthur request snippet

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