#I love pretty defensemen

[jimmy-snuggs]

Isn’t he just so pretty???

can you drop some hot pics of Jamie i needa be convinced

I GOT YOU I WAS BORN FOR THIS

[bedardconnor]

thinking about that time i was watching a toronto game a few weeks ago and my mom and brothers were like "damn why do they suck :/" and i answered like "this is why they are losing. and they need to do this (blah blah blah) to make improvements in this next period to win" and then the coach comes on for intermission interview and he says the EXACT same shit I was saying damn near word for word

[brainddeadd]

hughes sister x oscar and maybe she works something in f1 that’s how they met and they have been dating for a little while now and they finally found time for her to meet her family and she takes him to his first nhl game

Meeting the Family

The weekend had been carefully planned, squeezed between Oscar’s racing calendar and her brothers’ grueling NHL schedules. It was the perfect opportunity for Oscar to finally meet the Hughes family—and for her to take him to his first hockey game.

As they drove toward the Hughes family home, she could feel her nerves creeping in. She glanced over at Oscar, who seemed calm as ever, one hand loosely resting on the steering wheel.

“You know,” she began, fiddling with the hem of her hoodie, “Quinn, Jack, and Luke might come off a little... intense at first.”

Oscar smirked. “Intense like Turn 1 at Monza or...?”

She rolled her eyes but laughed. “More like three defensemen deciding whether you’re a threat to their baby sister.”

Oscar reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll survive. I’ve met team principals scarier than your brothers.”

When they arrived, the Hughes house was buzzing with energy. Jack was the first to open the door, taking one long look at Oscar before pulling his sister into a tight hug.

“So,” Jack said, stepping back and folding his arms. “This is Oscar, huh? The guy you’re always FaceTiming?”

Oscar extended a hand with an easy smile. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Quinn and Luke appeared in the hallway, both sporting curious expressions. Their little sister could feel the weight of their stares as the introductions unfolded.

“Alright,” Luke said after a beat, “he seems normal. But we’ll see after tonight’s game.”

That evening, they piled into the arena, the excitement in the air almost tangible. It was Oscar’s first NHL game, and she couldn’t help but notice how fascinated he looked as the players skated out for warmups.

“They’re fast,” he said, leaning close so she could hear him over the roar of the crowd.

“You’re fast,” she teased. “This is... different.”

As the game began, Oscar quickly picked up on the intensity of the sport, asking questions about the rules and commenting on the sheer athleticism of her brothers.

When Quinn executed a flawless poke check to stop a breakaway, she nudged Oscar’s arm. “That’s Quinn. Pretty good, huh?”

Oscar grinned. “Not bad. But I’d like to see him take Eau Rouge at full speed.”

By the end of the game, the Devils had won, and Oscar was fully converted into a hockey fan.

Back at the house, the family was more relaxed. Jack and Luke took turns grilling Oscar about racing—his craziest moments, the rivalries, and the mechanics of the car. Oscar, to his credit, answered everything with patience and charm, even cracking a few jokes that made Quinn chuckle.

As the evening wound down, she leaned against Oscar’s shoulder, watching her brothers laugh at one of his stories. He fit into her world better than she could have imagined.

Later that night, as they left, Jack pulled her aside.

“He’s alright,” Jack said begrudgingly, but she could see the small smile tugging at his lips. “But if he ever hurts you...”

“I know,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “You’ll destroy him.”

As they drove away, Oscar glanced over with a playful smile. “So, did I pass the test?”

She laughed, leaning her head against the window. “Barely. But they like you.”

“And you?”

She smiled softly. “I love you.”

Oscar’s hand found hers again, and with a quiet grin, he said, “Good. Because I love you too.”

[misshoneyimhome]

500 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

“So you think my legs are going to magically spread for you?” I Matthew Tkachuk

Summary; Despite your mutual disinterest, as the younger sister of a Florida Panthers player, it was inevitable that you would cross paths with Matthew Tkachuk at the celebration party.

Tropes & warnings; Matthew Tkachuk x reader, enemies to lovers, player's younger sister, Stanley Cup celebration, alcohol consumption, language

Other notes; So, lovely babes, this is my first time writing for Matthew Tkachuk, so I'm beyond excited to hear what you think of it 🙏🏼 Also, this idea has been on my mind for a while, so hopefully it turned out well ✨ I really hope you enjoy it 🌺

Word count; 4.2K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny@justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

➼｡ﾟ

The Florida sun slowly sank behind the streets of Miami, casting a golden light over the lively chaos following the Florida Panthers' Stanley Cup victory. The city was buzzing with joy, fans filling the streets, waving banners, and chanting team chants. 

And as a guest at the team's exclusive post-championship party, you navigated through a sea of ecstatic family members and hockey players; the venue was a swanky club, decorated in gold and red, resembling the team’s colours.

Being the younger sister of a Panthers defensemen had its perks, but tonight, it mostly meant being pulled into conversations with unfamiliar faces. You spent the evening listening to hockey tales and politely acknowledging jokes you didn’t quite get. The loud music and constant chatter were starting to give you a headache, and you yearned for some peace.

So, leaning against the bar, you nursed a drink and tried to fade into the background. And sensing your need for a break, the bartender handed you a fresh cocktail with a sympathetic smile. You took a sip, the cool liquid a relief from the heat and noise.

However, just as you began to relax, a familiar voice broke your reverie. "Well, if it isn't y/n y/l/n," Matthew Tkachuk drawled, his smirk as irritatingly charming as ever, leaning beside you at the bar, his gaze meeting yours.

You rolled your eyes. "Tkachuk," you replied, your tone dripping with the disdain that had characterised your interactions from the start. He was a forward for the team, undeniably talented, though you’d never admit it aloud.

And even worse, he looked effortlessly handsome in a well-tailored suit that managed to be both relaxed and expensive; his tousled hair and that trademark smirk were frustratingly perfect.

"So, enjoying the party?" he asked casually, mischief glinting in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. "It's okay. More my brother’s thing than mine."

Matthew chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, I can see that. But you have to admit, it’s a pretty epic celebration."

You glanced around at the crowd, the dazzling lights, and the palpable excitement. "I suppose," you conceded. "But I’d prefer somewhere quieter."

But his smirk just simply widened. "Really? I would’ve thought you were someone who enjoys being right in the middle of everything."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think that?"

Unexpectedly,  Matthew leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a confidential tone. "Because no matter where I go, you always seem to be there."

Your eyes narrowed. "Maybe that’s because you always manage to show up where you’re not wanted."

Matthew laughed, a genuine sound that briefly eased your annoyance. "Fair point. But you know, sometimes the best things happen in unexpected places."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes once more. "Yeah, well, I’m not holding my breath for that."

_

Matthew had always managed to get under your skin. Whether it was his smug grin on that annoyingly handsome face or his undeniable skills on the ice, he exuded confidence without apology. He was the type of guy who knew his worth and flaunted it freely.

To put it bluntly, you had never particularly liked Matthew Tkachuk - well, at least, that’s what you thought. While he hadn’t directly wronged you, he was simply too much—too loud, too cocky, too... everything. His presence could dominate a room, sucking out all the air and attention effortlessly.

If you were to compare him to a fictional character, Matthew could easily pass for Prince Charming from the Shrek movies: overly self-assured, possessing a strong ego, and strikingly handsome in every way. His eyes were magnetic, his smile infectious, and his physique impeccable. He walked with a swagger that bordered on 

arrogance, and it drove you mad.

Oh, that body...

There was this one time you inadvertently caught sight of it after a training session while meeting your brother, and the image had unfortunately burned itself into your memory. He had emerged from the locker room, shirtless and still gleaming with sweat, his muscles flexing with every move.

It even intruded into your private moments, alone in your bed, right when you were on the brink of climax. The memory of his sculpted abs and the way his shorts hung low on his hips invaded your thoughts at the most inconvenient times.

You were of course incredibly embarrassed about it, not wanting to admit to anyone that you had briefly fantasised about Matthew Tkachuk. And even worse, you had to acknowledge to yourself that you had enjoyed it. The fantasy of him, his strong hands on your body, his lips against your skin, had led you to that intense pleasure that left you breathless and somewhat ashamed.

Him. Of all people.

Naturally, you tried to convince yourself it was solely the work of your vibrator. Yet, you couldn’t shake the fact that he had crossed your mind. Every time you saw him, that memory lingered in the depths of your thoughts, causing you to blush and feel a mixture of irritation and something else you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

_

As you stood there, amidst the lively atmosphere of the Stanley Cup celebration, you had to clench your thighs together and banish all lingering thoughts of him. The vibrant energy of the party coursed through your veins, yet the memory of Matthew's teasing smirk and his lingering touch persisted.

But it seemed as though he could sense your unspoken resistance. And Matthew was the type who thrived on challenges; and you were a challenge he wasn't about to shy away from. So suddenly, he was closely beside you, his breath warm against your ear, cutting through the room's clamour. "Well, I must say I didn't expect to find you here, princess. I thought you didn’t like partying with your brother's teammates?"

Your eyes narrowed. "I don’t. I'm only here for the free drinks." You tried to sound nonchalant, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the thrill his proximity brought.

Matthew chuckled, and despite your efforts, a small smile tugged at your lips. There was an undeniable magnetism in his confidence, his playful demeanour contrasting sharply with the intensity he showed on the ice. But shaking your head, you reminded yourself of all the reasons why you shouldn’t like him. He was arrogant, overly self-assured, and absolutely the last person you should find intriguing.

Yet, his husky voice once again brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Or maybe you’re just here to have a good time?”

Raising an eyebrow, you met his gaze with a defiant stare. “So you think my legs are going to magically spread for you just because we're at the same party?" you retorted, trying to regain your composure and create some distance between you.

You felt assured by your words. Maybe it was the outfit you'd chosen that gave you that extra boost of confidence — something you'd been very mindful of when putting it together; the sleek black dress you'd opted for hugged your curves perfectly. Its smooth silhouette highlighted your figure with undeniable allure, while the low neckline offered a subtle hint of cleavage, adding a touch of charm suitable for the occasion. Under the soft lights, the dress shimmered elegantly, catching the eye as you moved and subtly drawing attention.

Despite its form-fitting design, the dress fell just above the knee, striking a balance between sophistication and allure. It was a choice that exuded confidence, commanding attention without overshadowing the celebratory atmosphere of the evening. Plus, the drinks you'd been sipping for the past few hours had added to your courage.

Matthew simply raised an eyebrow, his blue-grey eyes twinkling with amusement. "Who said anything about magic?" he teased, his voice low. "But I wouldn't mind if it happened."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. "You're unbelievable." The heat of the moment and his proximity made it difficult to think clearly, but you were determined not to let him get to you.

Matthew then leaned back, his expression turning more serious. "Look, y/n, I know we've had our differences—"

"You mean you've been a prick," you interjected, unable to hold back. It was instinctive, a defence mechanism kicking in to shield yourself from the unexpected vulnerability his seriousness revealed.

But Matthew just sighed, running a hand through his curly hair, styled into a soft, modern mullet. His eyes softened momentarily, revealing a glimpse of the person beyond the bravado. Yet, before he could say anything more, you were both pulled away to rejoin some of the others, their laughter and high spirits drawing you back into the celebration.

As the night wore on, both you and Matthew kept your distance, focusing on simply enjoying the party. You laughed, danced, and chatted with others, trying to push the encounter from your mind. Yet, every so often, you caught him glancing your way, his gaze thoughtful and intense, making your heart race all over again.

Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but be aware of him, his presence a constant hum at the back of your mind. Though the celebration continued around you, a whirlwind of joy and excitement, there was an undercurrent of something else, something that left you wondering just what Matthew Tkachuk's intentions were, and whether you were ready to find out.

It was a huge win for the Panthers. The air crackled with excitement, a chorus of cheers and celebratory shouts echoing through the room. Drinks flowed freely, and the players, including Matthew, were eager to shed the weight of the season's training rules and simply revel in their victory.

Despite their attempts to keep the celebration controlled, the intensity of the moment quickly swept everyone up. Laughter filled the air as families began to depart, leaving behind only the players and their younger siblings at the lively gathering. And in the midst of it all, Matthew felt a surge of confidence building within him.

And that’s when his eyes landed on you once again.

From across the room, he observed you with a mix of curiosity and admiration. Your laughter resonated, adding to the jubilant atmosphere as you engaged in conversation with some of the other players' siblings. Matthew couldn’t deny that there was something distinctly captivating about you tonight, a subtle allure that drew his attention and held it.

“You should hit that,” Brady, Matthew's younger brother, interjected abruptly, breaking through his thoughts.

“What?” Matthew replied, caught off guard by Brady's blunt statement.

“Go for it,” the Ottawa player teased, a mischievous glint in his eye and a slight slur to his words. “You’ve been staring at her all night. Just go for it! You know you want to.”

Matthew chuckled dismissively, shaking his head. “I haven’t been staring at her all night. I’ve barely spoken to her.”

But Brady's lips just curled into a smirk, his confidence buoyed by the alcohol swirling through his veins, amplifying his bravado as he leaned in towards Matthew. His words dripped with sarcasm, each syllable a challenge meant to goad his older brother into action.

"Sure," he scoffed, the hint of a dare in his voice. "Come on, I dare you to go ask her for a dance."

Matthew's brows furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing in playful disbelief at Brady's persistence. A chuckle escaped his lips, a mix of amusement and mild protest.

"No way, man," Matthew replied, shaking his head with a wry grin. His brother's teasing was nothing new, but tonight, under the influence of celebration and camaraderie, it almost struck a chord.

Brady, undeterred by Matthew's initial refusal, pressed on with the banter, his voice carrying a playful challenge underscored by the sibling rivalry that defined their relationship.

"Alright, I guess if you don't want to, it’s cool," he taunted, his words tinged with mock disappointment. “I mean bro, you can be a chicken if you want to, but don't tell me you're afraid. After winning the Cup, this should be a piece of cake. Unless you're scared she'll turn you down?”

And the barb hit its mark, stirring something within Matthew's competitive spirit. His jaw set with determination; he couldn't let Brady's jibes go unanswered. As athletes, the Tkachuk brothers were no strangers to challenges and dares—each one a gauntlet thrown down, impossible to ignore.

In that moment, Matthew's resolve solidified. He couldn't allow his younger brother to mock him for shying away from a simple act like asking someone to dance. After all, he was Matthew Tkachuk, a Stanley Cup champion—this should be effortless.

So, as mature as ever, Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Fine, you want a show? Watch this.”

Brady's eyes tracked his movements with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as his older brother weaved through the jubilant crowd. The room buzzed with excitement, cheers reverberating off the walls, and the beat of celebratory music filled the air. Despite the festive atmosphere, Matthew's attention honed in on your distinct presence across the room, a singular figure amidst the sea of revelry.

However, with each deliberate step toward you, Matthew felt a peculiar weight settle on his shoulders. His heart suddenly thudded loudly in his chest, a blend of nerves and adrenaline pulsing through his veins like a current.

Wait, what? Why? he silently questioned himself, puzzled by the sudden intensity of his emotions. It was just you, after all—a person he didn't need to impress or prove himself to.

Yet, there was an undeniable pull, an intrigue that had always lurked beneath the surface, even if Matthew had never outwardly acknowledged it. Unlike other women in his life, you exuded a unique aura that captivated him. Whether at the rink before or after training sessions, patiently waiting for your brother, you seemed to radiate an effortless calm and genuine happiness. Your vibrant smile lit up the room, your spirit almost ethereal in its positivity. But it was your sharp wit, akin to a sailor's banter, and your quick-fire comebacks that left an indelible impression on Matthew.

And perhaps it was precisely this multifaceted charm that intrigued the Arizona forward more than he cared to admit.

So, as Matthew closed the gap, he mentally bolstered his confidence, preparing to gently interrupt the small talk surrounding you. 

"Hey," he said, tapping you lightly on the shoulder.

You turned, surprise flickering in your eyes before masking it with a smirk. "Back for more, Tkachuk?"

But he just grinned, leaning casually against the wall beside you. "Couldn't stay away."

"Of course not," you replied simply, rolling your eyes playfully as you tried to hide the slight flutter in your stomach that his presence stirred.

There was a brief moment of silence, a hint of awkwardness settling between you, as you both seemed unsure why Matthew had suddenly returned to talk to you. But then he broke the silence with a proposition that caught you off guard.

“How about a dance?”

“What?” you replied, genuinely baffled by his unexpected request.

“How about a dance?” Matthew repeated, his voice more confident this time, his gaze steady on yours.

You blinked in surprise, momentarily at a loss for words. This was not the Matthew Tkachuk you were used to—the cocky, overconfident player who always seemed to know how to push your buttons. This Matthew seemed... different.

Still, you weren’t about to let him off that easily. "You’re joking, right?" you replied, your tone laced with a mix of incredulity and sarcasm.

His smirk widened slightly, yet there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—determination, perhaps a hint of vulnerability. "No, I'm serious. One dance. Unless you're too scared to be seen with me."

And that did it. You never backed down from a challenge, especially not from Matthew Tkachuk. "Scared? Of you? Please."

"So, prove it," he challenged, extending his hand towards you.

With a light huff, you placed your hand in his, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he led you confidently to the centre of the makeshift dance floor. The crowd around you seemed to part, creating a space where only the pulsing beat of the music and the heat between you two existed. The deep bass reverberated through your chest, setting a rhythm that seemed to sync effortlessly with your movements alongside Matthew.

As you danced, the initial tension between you began to melt away. There was an undeniable chemistry, an unspoken understanding that drew you closer despite your history of mutual animosity. Matthew's hand on your waist guided you with a firm yet gentle touch, each step bringing you closer together physically and emotionally. The energy between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of indifference, you suddenly found yourself swept up in the moment. The barriers you had carefully erected seemed to crumble in the face of this unexpected connection, leaving you both vulnerable yet exhilarated.

Then, as the song drew to an end, Matthew's breath warmed your ear again as he leaned in closer, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief and genuine warmth. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking onto his with a mixture of defiance and something deeper—a flicker of unspoken emotions stirring within you. "I suppose not," you admitted begrudgingly, unable to ignore the rush of exhilaration that his proximity brought.

"Maybe we should do this more often," Matthew suggested, his tone playful yet his eyes revealing a sincerity that surprised you.

But you just raised an eyebrow, your guard instinctively rising. "Don't push your luck, Tkachuk."

He chuckled softly, "fair enough, y/n. Fair enough."

As you then turned to leave the dance floor, determined to regain your composure amidst the fluttering in your stomach—just like when you felt your very first crush—fate decided to intervene in the form of a clumsy collision. Another large body bumped into you, causing their drink to spill onto your dress, and you stumbled backwards, only to find yourself caught by Matthew's quick reflexes.

"Whoa there," Matthew's voice was calm, his arms wrapped securely around you. "Are you alright?"

Once again you met his blue-grey eyes, and you felt your heart racing as you momentarily lost yourself in their depths. "Yeah, I'm fine," you managed to say, your voice revealing a breathlessness you couldn't conceal. "Thanks."

Matthew steadied you, his hands lingering on your waist a fraction longer than necessary, stirring a warmth that spread through you. "No worries," he replied softly, his gaze holding yours with a gentle intensity. "But you can always just say it if you can't resist me."

Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, you teased back, "Don't flatter yourself, Tkachuk. It was just an accident."

His grin widened, mischief glinting in his eyes. "Sure, sure," he responded, his playful manner unwavering. "But accidents can lead to interesting places."

Unable to stifle a laugh at his persistence, you shook your head with amusement. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here we are," Matthew countered, his tone light but his eyes holding a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

But before you could reply, your brother appeared, slightly tipsy and curious. "Hey y/n, everything alright here?" he asked, eyeing you and Matthew with interest.

"Yeah, all good," you replied quickly, stepping back from Matthew's embrace. "Just a minor collision."

Your brother raised an eyebrow but chose not to press further. "Alright, just checking. You know how wild these parties can get."

"Yeah, I know," you agreed, grateful for the interruption. "Thanks."

As your brother then wandered off, Matthew turned to you with a more serious expression. "How about we leave?"

"What?" you asked, surprised by his sudden suggestion.

"Let's get out of here," he repeated, his voice soft but resolute.

Confusion mixed with a touch of curiosity as Matthew took your hand, leading you away from the bustling crowd. Despite your uncertainty, you were drawn to his calm assurance, ready to follow wherever this unexpected night might lead.

Matthew guided you out of the noisy room, his hand warm and firm in yours, fingers intertwined as if they naturally belonged that way. The sounds of the party gradually faded as you stepped into the cool night air, a refreshing change from the warmth and noise inside. You followed him down a path that veered away from the venue, guided by the gentle moonlight casting soft shadows around you.

"Where are we heading?"

He glanced back at you, a mischievous yet reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Just trust me. It’s… quieter."

You walked together in comfortable silence, the lively sounds of the city night slowly giving way to the distant crash of waves. After a few minutes, you arrived at a secluded spot overlooking the beach, the peaceful scene illuminated by the moon's soft glow. The rhythmic sound of waves brushing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop, while stars sparkled brightly above, mirroring the newfound excitement in your heart.

"This is... nice," you confessed softly, taking in the tranquil beauty surrounding you.

Matthew shrugged casually, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea met the sky. "Sometimes it's good to escape all the noise. Clears the mind."

You nodded in agreement, savouring the calmness that enveloped both of you. "Yeah, it does."

Standing side by side, immersed in the serene atmosphere, you sensed a shift in the air. It was a moment suspended in time, where words felt unnecessary yet emotions spoke volumes. Despite the unexpectedness of being alone with Matthew Tkachuk, someone you often clashed with, there was an unspoken understanding between you now.

Then, almost as if to break the tension or perhaps to fully embrace it, you spoke up, your voice teasing yet tinged with uncertainty. "Listen, Tkachuk, if you're planning to kidnap me —"

"Then what?" Matthew interrupted, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he turned and closed the distance between you, his tall figure towering over you. "What would you do if I did kidnap you, huh?" he challenged, his tone teasing yet carrying a hint of something deeper.

You were momentarily stunned into silence, caught off guard by his unexpected boldness.

"Lost for words?" Matthew teased further, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed your reaction, his presence exerting a magnetic pull that left you slightly breathless.

"N-no," you managed to stammer out, your mind racing to process the whirlwind of emotions. "I'm just... not sure why you suddenly wanted to be alone with me like this."

Matthew paused, pressing his lips together and his expression softening as he considered his response, his gaze unwaveringly locked with yours.

"Lost for words?" you teased back gently. "I mean, you could have just—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Matthew leaned in and kissed you, a sudden gesture that completely took you by surprise yet somehow felt inevitable. The abruptness made your knees weaken momentarily, leaving you stunned. But then, driven by a newfound desire, you found yourself responding to the kiss, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt.

Matthew cupped your face tenderly with his hands, sending a rush of warmth through you. The kiss was filled with urgency, conveying emotions that words had failed to capture. It was everything unexpected yet strangely fitting.

And when he then pulled back, both of you were breathless, chests rising and falling together. His forehead rested gently against yours, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw a mix of vulnerability and determination that mirrored your own inner turmoil.

"I wanted to be alone with you because... I can't get you out of my head," Matthew confessed softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to shatter the fragile moment between you. "You drive me crazy in ways I can't explain. I just... needed you to know that."

Your heart raced at his honesty, a swirl of emotions overwhelming you. This was Matthew Tkachuk—the guy who always managed to push your buttons—now standing before you with a vulnerability that felt disarmingly real.

"I..." you began, struggling to find words that matched the intensity of the moment. "I've been thinking about you too. More than I'd like to admit."

His eyes brightened with hope and relief upon hearing your confession, a gentle smile forming at the corners of his lips. "So, what do we do now?" he asked softly, his thumb delicately caressing your cheek, anchoring you in the present moment.

You returned his smile, genuine joy spreading across your face. "I suppose we see where this takes us. No more arguing, no more games. Just... us."

Matthew's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with happiness and anticipation. "I like the sound of that."

He then kissed you again, slower this time, his lips conveying a promise of newfound connection and unspoken possibilities. When you finally pulled away, the world around you felt different—brighter, filled with potential.

And as you walked hand in hand back towards the distant sounds of music and laughter, there was a renewed energy crackling between you. You knew your brother would notice the change immediately. Always protective, he might initially confront Matthew, but you trusted him to ultimately understand.

[hockybish]

I Didn't Want This Either

l Luke Hughes l masterlist l part 1 l * warning: death *

"Can we talk?" Jack knocked on the window of Luke's car. He didn't like what he was going to ask Luke, but he needed to get the conversation over with.

"What's up?" Luke watched as Jack fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket.

Jack took a deep breath in, counted to five, before let out the inhaled air.

"I know this is never probably going to happen, but I just want to be prepared just in case. because you never know what could happen. and Addie agrees with me, for once, I know it's crazy.

"Jack spit it out."

"Now that I have two kids. I've been thinking more about what happens to them if something happens to us. And I think I want you to raise them if we can't." The older brother asked of the younger one.

"Jack, I don't know." Luke contemplated what he was being asked, which was really nothing, but he knew. "Isn't there anyone better for the job? Mom? Quinn?"

"No, Luke. Quinn and Liv have enough going on and Mom and Dad don't need to raising two little kids after the raised us." Jack explained. "Plus you're great with them and they love you so much. Please Lukey."

"Fine"

"Great! I'll add you to daycare pick up." Jack reached over to give his brother an awkward hug before they went on with their separate ways.

--

"You're pretty." Jack chanced a glanced over at his beautiful wife. They had just dropped the kids off at daycare and were on their way to the rock.

"You're not too bad yourself Mr. Hughes" Addie said scrunching her nose at the man next to her.

"I'll talk to Luke or Nico today, maybe one of them can take the kids and we can have tonight." He kept looking back and forth from the road to his wife.

"Jack watch the road please." She clenched her jaw. There was traffic all around them, making her feel a bit nervous.

"What Ads? It's fine." Jack's eyes left the road again to look at his wife.

"Jack!"

Jack never saw the car until it was too late.

--

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Luke jumped out of bed. He scrambled to get ready for practice when the brain fog cleared and he saw it was after 10 am already.

He was so late. His alarms must not have gone off or something, because he was never late for practice. And here he was going to be late for the first time in forever.

Luke chose to forgo his usual morning routine and caffeinated beverage, thinking it might give a chance to get to the practice facility faster.

He was almost there when the traffic started to picked up. There must have been an accident. All sorts of emergency vehicles were surrounding the area.

As Luke got closer to the heart of the situation he noticed a two crumpled up cars. A silver one and a very familiar looking green one.

Luke got a good long look at the wreck as he passed it. Two white sheets littered the ground, the car accident must have been that bad that people died.

That's why there was so much commotion.

He felt bad for the family that was going learn the news that they lost people they loved. Little did he know his phone was blowing up at the moment, messages and phone calls from his parents and brother, family members, teammates, and close friends with that specific news.

The now super late hockey player got to his destination only an hour later than he was supposed to be there. He thought it was a bit odd how the normally packed parking garage was near empty. Where was everyone?

"Luke what are you doing here?" Nico frowned at the defensemen who was trying to get ice ready as fast as he could.

"I know I'm late. I didn't set my alarm and then there was some big accident. I'll do extra of whatever you want. I'm sorry." Luke finishing up lacing his skates up. If he had been looking at Nico eye's went wide at the mention of the accident.

"Practice was cancelled a couple of hours ago."

"Why would they do that we have a game tomorrow?"

"The league is thinking of postponing it"

"Why?" he stopped what he was doing to look up at his captain. There was a feeling in the room, there was something seriously wrong.

Luke finally glanced around the empty locker room, it held the same odd feeling that the lot had.

"Um. Have you looked at your phone lately?" The older man scratched the back of his head nervously.

Luke furrowed his brows at the question. No, he hadn't looked at his phone, he had been a little busy trying to get there as quickly as he could, the action didn't feel necessary at the time.

But now a bad sinking feeling was telling him that maybe he should.

He had a total of 19 missed calls from him Mom, Dad, and Quinn alone. Not to mention the other various voicemails that completely filled the digital voicemail box was completely filled. On top of that there were over a hundred txt messages from a variety of people.

There was even a message from Jack, a simple heart emoji followed by an 'i luv ya bro,' that was timestamped hours before everything else.

"Nico, what's going on?" His voice hitched after he read a txt from Trevor that read 'i just heard about j. i'm so sorry.' When Luke looked up from the device he took note that Nico was now accompanied by their new coach and a few devils' personal.

"Luke you should call your parents back" The captain picked at the skin around his fingers.

"No just tell me. What's going on?" He thumbed through his device trying to decipher the

"Let's take this somewhere a little more private. Yeah?" The group of higher ups attempted to usher then to a different room a little more quiet and appropriate to have this conversation. Luke shook them off, wanting them to just spit it out.

"Say it Nico" Luke shook them off. He wanted Nico to just spit it out. He was tired of this go around and the hesitation

Nico sighed heavily. He didn't want to be the one to tell his friend the news, it would be better if it were coming from a family member, but they were all on there way to New Jersey at moment. So he had to do his best.

"There was an accident" Nico began to say. Luke felt his heart beat faster, and a pit forming in his stomach as he realized what Nico was telling him. Maybe this would have been better coming from his mom or dad, hell even Quinn.

"Jack and Addie were in the car-" Nico continued. That green car that look familiar. Jack had a green car.

"No no no no no no no." He covered his ears in an attempted to block out what Nico was telling him. This wasn't happening.

"they didn't make it." Nico finished. He put his hand on Luke's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. The kind gesture didn't help anyeay as Luke grabbed the nearest garbage pail and emptied the contents of his stomach in it.

It was true. It couldn't be true. Jack wasn't dead. This was all just some sort of prank, a sick joke. Jack was going to walk around the corner and say sike.

He need to get out of there. Anywhere but there. He had this pain in chest, and it was hard to breath anytime he thought of his brother.

He got in his car and drove without a destination in mind. He drove and drove until he found himself in a deserted mall parking lot, not another car or person in sight.

Luke sat in his perfectly fine car and screamed. There wasn't anyone around, so no one would be able to judge him. Not that he cared. He needed to get his emotions out.

Why Jack? Why couldn't have been him? If only he had been on time today, maybe it would have been him in that accident and Jack would still be alive.

He had been receiving texts all day. Luke ignored all of them. A few people called, he ignored those too. Ellen had been calling him at least once every hour, but he still refused to talk to her.

There was one number that had been persistently calling him, even more than his mother had. Maybe she had gotten a hold of another phone and was calling from that. He didn't know, but he finally decided to answer the call.

"Hey Luke, this is Y/N calling this Happy Times Nursery, how are you?" The very peppy and friendly lady ask.

"I'm um, I could be better. What is this pertaining to?" He mumbled his reply confirming it was him.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well we've been trying to reach Jack and Addie for a couple of hours now seeing that it is well past pick up time for Lucy and Felix. We were just wondering if someone was on their way to retrieve them. They are our last kids for the night and we would like to go home."

Shit, the kids

Let me know what you guys think!

[hearts4hughes]

“look at how red your face is!” with luke! fyi, i could t get your who you write for list to load!

blushing - luke hughes

luke hughes x fem! reader

warnings: one swear i think? tooth rotting fluff

notes: not proofread!! i’m in aruba on vacation in case anyone was wondering about the lack of writings. on another note, IM SO FREAKING PROUD OF LUKE. HE MADE HIS NHL DEBUT ONLY 6 DAYS AFTER THE FROZEN FOUR LOSS!!!

gif is not mine

walking into the sophomore house, you are instantly greeted by the hockey team squished together in the small living room.

“hey, y/n/n.” they all yell out, sending you small smiles before directing their attention back to the action movie displayed on the tv.

you walked further into the house, stopping when you reach the chair that luke was sitting on and plopping yourself onto his lap. you threw both your legs over the armchair and relaxed your body against luke’s. subconsciously, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close.

no one in the room even flinched at the actions between you and luke. this was normal for you two.

luke was your best friend. when taking the job of the umich hockey team’s media admin, you felt out of place. that feeling of displacement quickly went away after you met luke- one of the team’s defensemen. he introduced you around and made you feel wanted on the hockey team.

you were a breath of fresh air to luke, showing him sides of himself he’d never seen before. luke didn’t realize it at first, however, while your friendship grew with each other, so did his love for you. he played it off as just love for a very close friend, but he knew he was lying to himself.

not long after, you started experiencing different feelings of your own for luke. you’d notice yourself laugh a little too hard at one of his jokes or blushing when he walked into a room.

it was pretty obvious you two were both in love with each other. the hockey team would continuously flame you both for being in love with each other, but you and luke just shrugged it off. like everyone else, you two were aware of the feelings you had for each other.

“hi, lukey.” you smile, your cheeks flushing a bright pink.

he turns his gaze away from the tv screen, locking his eyes with yours and breaking out in a toothy grin.

“hi, lovie.” he speaks softly, pulling you even closer into his chest, if that was even possible.

“i missed you today.” you admitted, taking a deep breath and letting his scent fill your nostrils.

luke giggled, kissing the top of your head before cheekily responding, “just today?”

pouting, you playfully hit his shoulder, sending him a sarcastic glare.

the rest of the night you try to focus on the movie, but you fail miserably. looking away from the tv, you study luke’s features. his face wears a serious expression as he intensely watches the movie. ever so often, he lets out a small chuckle at a funny scene in the movie, causing a smile to tug at the corners of your lips. his so damn gorgeous, it’s not fair.

out of the corner of his eye, luke catches you staring at him.

“like the view?” a smug grin takes over his face.

“i do.” your voice was a little more than a murmur.

red floods luke’s cheeks and he begins to bite his bottom lip.

“pay attention to the movie, not me.” he says, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips.

“but you’re more interesting than the movie.” you exclaim- a little too loudly.

the small exertion causes everyone to look your way, slowly observing what was happening. it wasn’t that surprising to the team that you two were barely paying attention to the movie, so engrossed in each other.

embarrassment shoots through your body. you awkwardly clear your throat, directing your attention back to the film. it only takes minutes before your swept away in a deep slumber. the sound of your soft snores fill luke’s ears, giving him a sense of comfort.

if he could, he’d stay here snuggled up with you forever. the way your body is radiating heat onto his makes him want to be this close to you every day. the way your lips were slightly parted made them look so kissable. the only thing luke would change about this situation would be that it wasn’t happening in the middle of movie night with the entire hockey team.

“hughesy?!” dylan yelled out, taking luke out of his trance and back into reality.

blinking a few times, luke realizes that he’s missed the end of the movie from being so entranced with you.

“yeah, sorry,” he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“were you even listening?” mark furrows his brows, chuckling deeply.

“um, about what?” luke asks, dumbfounded.

“of course he wasn’t listening.” rutger states blatantly. “he’s too obsessed with his girlfriend.”

a familiar pink color paints luke’s cheeks as rutger refers to you as his girlfriend. the room erupts in laughs and snickers at luke’s reaction.

“she’s not my girlfriend.” he mumbles, rolling his eyes.

“not my girlfriend my ass.” rutger mocks, throwing popcorn at luke. the piece of popcorn hits luke on the bridge of his nose, causing him to flip rutger off.

“she isn’t my girlfriend!” luke defends once again, widening his eyes.

“look how red your face is, hughesy!” mackie shouts, hitting luke’s shoulder.

mark throws his head back in sarcastic laughter. “dude, she’s literally laying across your lap with your arms wrapped around her… and you are trying to tell us she isn’t your girlfriend?”

luke looks down to the beautiful girl laying on top of him, but doesn’t remove his arms from their resting place around your waist. “so what? we like to cuddle. a lot of best friends do.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, hughesy.” dylan shrugs, rising to his feet and exiting the room.

deciding he’s had enough of this abuse, luke stands up, holding you protectively in his arms and walking up the stairs. when he rounds the corner to his room, he carefully places you down on the bed, making sure to not disturb you.

“luke,” you call out softly.

“yes, lovie?” he coos, slipping into bed next to you. his arms find your waist, pulling you close. you rest your head against his muscular chest, breathing in his scent.

“i love you.” you admit, closing your eyes tight, not wanting to see luke’s reaction.

all the blood drains from luke’s face. his throat runs dry and his palms get sweaty. “what?” he asks, not sure if he imagined that or not.

“i love you, lukey.” repeating your sentence, nerves start to set in. ‘you just confessed your love for luke- your best friend- how else was he supposed to react?’ was all you could think.

after a few moments of not responding, tears start to well in your eyes. “never mind,” you mutter through gritted teeth, wiggling out of luke’s hold.

luke- who is still processing the information- doesn’t realize his sudden silence is upsetting to you. “y/n,” his voice is soft.

“no, luke.” you snap. “it’s fine. i was stupid to say that.” swiftly, you jump out of luke’s bed, taking a moment to get your bearings, and head to leave luke’s room.

“y/n!” luke calls out once again. he kicks the covers off of himself and rises to his feet. you try to quickly exit the room, but he grabs your wrist before you can. “wait, please.” he’s basically pleading now.

you didn’t want to hear your best friend rejecting you. the silence after your confession was enough for you to get the hint. “luke, listen, it’s ok. i guess i just misinterpreted our relationship. we are always flirting and stuff…” you pause nervously. “i thought- i thought that… you liked me.”

luke’s heart shatters at your tone of voice. he can’t help but notice the tears waiting to spill out of your eyes, or how you are biting the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back sobs. he made you feel this way. he made you feel unloved. he winced at his thoughts.

“but y/n,” his thumb reassuringly rubs your hand. “i do like you. shit… i love you.”

your eyes go wide. tears begin to slip from your eyes. however, they aren’t sad tears, they are happy ones.

“kiss me.”

luke doesn’t waste anytime, quickly closing the gap between you and putting his lips on yours. the kiss is passionate and gentle. but also sloppy considering luke’s sense of urgency to kiss you more, and more.

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick slowly pulled the longsleeve on, keeping his movements even to avoid flinching or showing a grimace of pain on his face.  His teammates wouldn't care if he was injured--would, in fact, sneer at him worse, though Dick could feel Desmond's eyes on him, relentless in smug satisfaction.

The Bludhaven Blockbusters had lost, not that it mattered much to them in the standings.  It was a well-fought game--the Blockbusters had a great offense, courtesy of Dick, but the Jokers' defensive lineup was no, ha, joke.  The score had been close, no team getting more than a two-point lead, until the last period, where Desmond let in an astonishing number of goals.

Almost like he'd been paid off to do so.

"Ready to make up for our loss, Grayson?"  Someone wolf-whistled from the other side of the locker room.  "You have to be good for something, and clearly winning isn't it."

Dick had scored four goals despite the Jokers' defensemen attacking him like a school of piranha on chum.  The fact that they'd marked him so closely had let the rest of the line-up score as well.  Desmond was the one who lost the game.

Not that Dick was stupid enough to say that out loud.  He was well aware he had no friends here.

Dick finished changing into the longsleeve and sweatpants and closed his locker before walking out of the room.  His side throbbed with fierce intensity on every step and he had to force himself not to limp.  He was pretty sure he'd broken something when he'd been shoved against the boards, elbow slamming into his side, but there was no way he was going to go to the medic to get it checked out.

He'd get this over with and ice it in his hotel room.  Along with the rest of his injuries.  And whatever else he picked up along the way.

"What took so long?" Redhorn barked the moment he stepped out.  "Come on, they're waiting."  He marched off, not looking to see if Dick was following, and Dick had to jog to keep up.

His whole body ached, but nothing as much as the hollow inside his chest.  Dick loved hockey.  He loved the ice.  He loved the game, as brutal as it was, didn't mind limping away with a broken rib or five in exhilaration.  He'd been prepared to accept the messy politics of the game, the omnipresent corruption, the money, the paparazzi, and even the more unsavory aspects, like the winner's room that was all but an open secret in the league.

Dick didn't think he liked hockey any more.

The ice was no longer an escape, winning didn't bring any joy, and Dick could feel a part of himself get leached away as he fell over and over in the same trap, stuck in the mire instead of skating above it.  And all because of one scorned woman.

"Richard," the low voice called out from the darkened corridors.  Dick flinched, but he managed to suppress the hiss as his chest tightened.  Redhorn paused as the woman unfolded herself from the shadows, striding forward with a bright red smile.  "Mi amor, you played so well today," the woman hummed, catching his face and kissing both cheeks.  Dick didn't move, carefully frozen still.  "It's such a shame we lost, no?"

Dick didn't say a word.  In a world of sharks, Catalina Flores was the biggest one in the shiver.  Desmond's orders had probably come directly from her.

"It is a shame," Catalina murmured, voice dropping even lower as a manicured fingernail stroked down his cheek.  "I wish you did not have to do this, Richard."  Lie.  "Won't you change your mind, mi amor?  Come with me and I promise you'll never have to do this again."

Dick stepped back, controlled so it didn't look like he was jerking himself free of her grip.  "No," he said, the same thing he said every time she made this offer.  Even the first time he could tell she was bad news, but he didn't realize how bad until he'd seen the consequences of spurning her.

Catalina's smile dropped away to a hard look and flashing eyes.  "Very well," she said, voice cold.  "Enjoy your time with Wilson, then."

Dick had to fight not to blanch.  Wilson?  Slade Wilson?  One of the oldest players in the league, still at the top of his game, strong and fast enough that rumors of doping had swirled unconfirmed for years?  The Jokers' star defenseman, and the very same defenseman that Dick had outwitted with a flashy trick to get his fourth goal?

He could still remember the seething fire in Wilson's eyes.  The man had checked him twice as hard after Dick had shot the puck through his legs, and he was the reason half of Dick's left side felt like it'd been crushed.  And that had been Wilson on the ice, with restraint.

Dick felt faint.  But Redhorn was moving so Dick had to follow behind him, leaving Catalina and her burning glare behind.  The numbness was coming on fast this time and Dick welcomed it, cocooning himself in the fog so he didn't end up hyperventilating.

It had been a couple of weeks since the Blockbusters had lost a game, since Dick had been on the receiving end of hatred and not just scorn, and a part of him wondered how long he could survive this.

Catalina wasn't going to stop.  She clearly wasn't getting tired of him, and his frequent rejections were just making her angry.  Maybe he should give in, accept whatever protection she offered and sell his soul.

He was already in hell anyway.

They approached a plain door and Dick suppressed the panic and hung on to the numbness.  It was getting easier and easier to draw himself down into it, and harder and harder to come out.  "Get to the hotel when you're done," Redhorn growled, turning away without a glance.  "The team's leaving at six in the morning."

That was it.  No instructions on how he was supposed to get to the hotel, or what would happen if he was late, or any kind of support at all.  Just abandonment in the middle of the Jokers' stadium.  Dick luckily knew his way around Gotham, but he wasn't sure how many pieces Wilson would leave him in.

Dick waited until the sound of Redhorn's footsteps had faded away before he reached out and knocked on the door.

The sound felt muted.  Disconnected.  Everything was moving a step behind his mind and Dick blinked when the door opened to a silver-haired man nearly twice his size.

Part of Dick was fascinated by the disparity.  As a winger, Dick was smaller than his teammates, built for agility and not so much for slamming people against the boards.  Wilson was clearly built for his job, a steel wall of muscle towering above him, with ice blue eyes scanning over Dick before settling on his face.  "Come inside," Wilson said.

The room was tamer than most others Dick had seen, looking more like a hotel room than a sex dungeon.  There was a drawer set next to the bed that was clearly for supplies, and a mini fridge, and what appeared to be an attached bathroom.  Dick followed Wilson all the way to the bed and stopped when Wilson turned to face him.

"So, Bludhaven's hotshot new left wing," Wilson said.  This time, his scan was more of a leer, gaze dragging over his body.  "Think those flashy tricks of yours are cute, kid?"

Dick didn't answer.  He knew better than to engage.  Wilson already wanted a punching bag, he didn't need to make things worse.

"I'm surprised no one's beaten that out of you yet," Wilson mused.  "Though I suppose it's my turn to give it a go."

Dick didn't back away as Wilson stalked closer, no matter how much he wanted to.

"You shot four goals," Wilson said, eyes burning.  "How about we start with payback for each one?"

Wilson's grip was stronger than Catalina's, easily shoving him back against the bed as he bent down.  His kiss was equally aggressive, harsh and plundering, and Dick retreated deeper into the fog and let it happen.

There was no point to the fear, it wouldn't save him, it didn't tell him anything he didn't already know.  All Dick could do was try to brace for the pain that was going to follow.

Wilson shoved, hard, and Dick fell back on the bed, sinking instantly into the soft material.  He barely managed to struggle up on his elbows before Wilson crawled on after him, straddling his thigh and shoving him back down, big hands wrapping around his ribs.

Dick couldn't help the gasp of pain.

The grip disappeared immediately, but the throbbing pain was high and searing and Dick instinctively, ineffectually, tried to curl up, hand pressed to his ribs and blinking against his prickling eyes.  Fuck, that hurt, and Dick was suddenly concerned about his ability to take this punishment.  They hadn't even gotten started.

"What happened?" Wilson demanded, still straddling Dick.  "Are you injured?"

"I'm fine," Dick said thickly, or tried to say, the pain made everything even more disconnected.

Wilson just scoffed, tugging at his shirt.  "Get this off and let me see.  I don't want your team to accuse me of damaging their precious star forward."

The numbness made it hard to muddle through that sentence as Dick obediently tried to pull his shirt off.  Was Wilson saying he wasn't going to injure him?  Clearly he didn't know the priorities of Blockbusters' management very well, which was great for Dick if it meant Wilson wasn't going to be that rough.

Dick hissed as he tried to pull the shirt up, it was more difficult when he was practically pinned to the bed, and he ended up letting go and trying to breathe past the black spots in his vision when the pain grew too large to ignore.

"Christ, Grayson," the harsh voice said as Dick stared at the ceiling and tried to blink the stars out of his eyes.  "Why didn't you get this treated?"

"It's fine," Dick said, and had to stifle a gasp as Wilson pressed down against the throbbing ache.

"You're black and blue all over, and you haven't applied anything.  Why didn't you go to the medic first?"  There was something approaching alarm in Wilson's voice.

"I'm fine," Dick repeated.  Amy would've slipped some painkillers in his bag and he could ice it when he got back.  "Why do you care?" Dick couldn't stop himself from saying.  "You're the one that caused it."

Silence.

That was a stupid thing to say.  Especially when he was flat on his back underneath the defenseman, utterly at his mercy.  A slow, creeping cold slithered in past the numbness and Dick couldn't even shiver.

Wilson hadn't moved.  His fingers were still resting lightly on what was probably a black splotch on Dick's chest, just waiting to dig in.  Dick had the sudden--and chilling--realization that the state of his body probably gave Wilson a very clear picture of how little Blockbusters' management cared about his injuries, as long as he could still skate.

"Look, can you just get on with it?" Dick said, brain-to-mouth filter completely on vacation.

The fingers moved up, skating across his ribs up to his collarbone.  "I didn't cause this," Wilson said, quiet.

Dick didn't know what he was pointing to.  He tried to crane his neck past the balled-up fabric of his shirt to see, but the movement just pulled at his ribs.

"The one that looks like someone tried to take a bite out of you," Wilson clarified.  "What the hell, Grayson?  Got a vampire partner you haven't mentioned?"

"Don't have a partner," Dick exhaled, flinching as Catalina's image popped before his eyes.  He thought he knew what Wilson was pointing to, but a lot of the Blockbusters liked to use teeth.  Liked to mark him.

"Then who the hell did this to you?"  A pause, and Wilson's voice grew darker.  "The Blockbusters haven't lost a game in weeks."

Dick exhaled and reached for the numbness again.  It flooded him, stronger than before, until it no longer mattered that he was pinned underneath a man that intended to fuck him as payback for scoring past him.  "Doesn't matter," he said, voice light and almost floaty.

"What doesn't matter?"  Wilson sounded thoroughly pissed off now, but that was a problem for Future Dick.  Present Dick was dissociating too hard to care.

"Winning or losing," Dick said.  Introduce the idea of sex for punishment, normalize it, and people would twist it for all manner of things.  Winning just meant that Dick would go to the person on the Blockbusters' line-up that wanted him, and there were a lot of people that wanted him.

Wilson's fingers disappeared and his weight shifted off.  Dick waited for him to come back, another hard kiss, more bruising touches, more pain.  He wondered if he could get back to the hotel before six.  He wondered about how Bruce was doing, whether he watched Dick's games or just blocked out all mention of him after Dick had left his coaching to make it on his own.  He wondered if it would be this bad on any other hockey team.

He wondered if he could go back in time, to little eight-year-old Dick Grayson who loved the ice, and shake him and tell him not to go into hockey.

Wilson was taking an awfully long time.  Dick lifted his head up, and lifted all the way up to sitting when he didn't spot the defenseman anywhere in the room.

A bang of the door showed where he’d gone.  Wilson was glowering now, fury roiling off of him like a stormcloud, but Dick could only stare, unconcerned.  He didn't even flinch when the man advanced on him.

"Get up," Wilson ordered harshly, pulling Dick to his feet and tugging his shirt back down.  "Come with me."

Dick didn't try to fight the casual manhandling and merely trotted after Wilson.

They were leaving the room.  Dick didn't understand why, and everything was moving too slow for him to form the words to ask.  Wilson seemed to know where he was going, darting frequent glances back as if to check that Dick was still there, and Dick followed him, confused and unable to care.

The hallways weren't familiar, but they were starting to get noisy and when Wilson pushed through a door to the sound of loud conversations, Dick realized he'd brought him to the Jokers' locker room.

The thought should've caused shrieking alarm.  Instead, all Dick could feel was a dull pang as he obediently followed Wilson inside.

"Done that quick?" someone jeered as they strode further into the locker room--the majority of the team was still here and Dick's gaze skipped past faces, deliberately not counting them.  "Oooh," there was a chorus of wolf whistles as they spotted him behind Wilson.  "Did you bring him to share?"

Everything felt so far away.  Even the ground.  Dick felt like he was falling and falling.

"Shut up," Wilson snapped.  "And go get Fries."  Wilson turned back to Dick and pushed him back to an empty bench.  "You, sit down."

There was another round of heckling.  "Did you break him already?" someone laughed, followed by crude comments about their relative sizes.

Wilson ignored them, crouching in front of Dick.  "Can you raise your arms?" he asked.  Dick started to lift them but they started trembling the moment they reached shoulder level and Wilson grabbed his arms and pulled them down.  "Never mind," he said, "lean forward and duck your head."

Dick did as he was told, forehead hovering next to Wilson's shoulder as the man curled his fingers in the back of Dick's shirt and pulled it up.  He managed to get it off without any input from Dick, and Dick watched as his arms speckled with gooseflesh.

He didn't feel cold.  He didn't feel anything.

Dick didn't hear laughter anymore.  There was a low whistle and footsteps and suddenly a small crowd surrounding Dick and Wilson.  Their faces were all blurry.  Dick didn't try to make them out.

"Damn, Wilson, what did you do?" someone asked, hushed, and there was a minor scuffle when Wilson aimed an elbow at the speaker.

"Fries is on his way," another voice called out.

"Why didn't you just take him to his own team?" someone else muttered.

"Couldn't find them," Wilson said, voice hard and flat.

More silence.

Another voice, quiet.  "Jones said that he didn't see any of them still here when he left."

A round of sharp inhales and low what the fucks.  "They just left him?" someone asked, sounding horrified.

Wilson was watching him, stare narrowed and intense.  Dick held his gaze, still and quiet, waiting pliantly.  His eyes were a cold blue with flecks of gray.  He had wrinkles on his face.  His hair wasn't actually all gray, some of it was a blonde so light it was indistinguishable at first glance.

"Something's wrong with him," someone said abruptly.

"Uh, yeah, we can see that something's wrong with him--"

"No, I meant, look--" something snapped in front of Dick's face.  He blinked but didn't move.  "See?  He hasn't said anything since he got here.  He hasn't even twitched."

"Wilson, what the fuck did you do?!" the tone was higher, harsher.  Wilson broke his stare with Dick and straightened to turn on the speaker, an argument of growls and hisses.

Someone else settled in front of Dick, bald, with a crinkled frown on his face.  "Hello, my name is Victor Fries," he said, voice slow and calm.  "Can you tell me where you're injured?"

Where wasn't Dick injured was a better question.  Dick mutely pointed to the giant developing bruise on his side, because that was what had caught Wilson's attention.

Dick didn't flinch when Fries began prodding at the wound, tiny jolts of pain fizzling out in the numbness.  Fries frowned, and then frowned even deeper when he met Dick's gaze.  Dick didn't realize that the volume of the argument between the Jokers had risen and fallen until someone abruptly sat down on the bench next to him.

He turned, blinking at Wilson.  Wilson glowered back.  "Well?" he rumbled, turning the glare to Fries.

Fries looked upset.  "Richard--can I call you Richard?"  He waited for Dick's slow nod to continue.  "Do you know where you are?"

Of course Dick knew.  "Jokers' locker room," he rasped.  There was abrupt silence, which was the only reason he realized how noisy the room was before then.

"That's great," Fries smiled tightly.  "Are you feeling cold?"

Dick looked down at his goosebumps.  "No," he answered honestly.

Wilson made a low growling sound.  There was a scuffle of movement and something soft hit Dick in the face.  It was the purple and black of the Jokers' colors and Dick stared at Wilson when the man wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Richard," Fries said, and Dick's gaze swung back to him, ignoring the towel.  "Judging by the bruising, I think you have some broken ribs, though we'll need an X-ray to make sure.  I've been informed that your team has already left, so I can drive you to the hospital and you can call them to meet you there--"

"No."  Dick's fingers were trembling.  He stared at them, lost in the shudders.

"Excuse me?"

"No hospital."  Dick had to clear out his throat.  "I'm fine."  He was so tired.  Everyone was staring at him, and he didn't know why.  He just wanted this night to be over.

"Richard, you really need to get it checked out--"

"I said I'm fine."

Wilson scoffed loudly at that.  "You're not fine," he said, daring Dick to argue.

Dick had to let go of the numbness, pushing up to his feet, but exhaustion swooped in to take its place, leaving him ragged and still distant.  Clearly Wilson didn't like the bruises, but there wasn't anything Dick could do about that.

"You don't get to tell me that," Dick said evenly, watching Wilson's eyes flash and knowing he'd be paying for that soon enough.  "You won.  You get the night and nothing else.  So either take your spoils or leave me alone."

The locker room was dead silent.  Dick realized he had a towel around his shoulders, one of the big, soft, fluffy ones, and he suppressed the urge to huddle further in it.  It was cold and he had to fight not to shiver.

There was probably a more diplomatic way to play this, he could've gotten that ride and then ditched them there, but Dick was so very tired.  He just wanted it over with.

"Fine," Wilson snapped.  Some of his teammates made protesting sounds, but Wilson levered up, shooting them all dark looks.  "Fries, give me some painkillers and an ice pack."  The medic mutely did as he was told, shooting Dick undefinable looks.  "Come on, Grayson, let's get back to the room.  Can't miss out on my spoils."

He twisted the words into a nasty sneer.  Dick would've felt afraid if he had the energy to, but he didn't even have enough to imagine what Wilson had planned.  He just followed the man silently back through the same hallways, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, until they were back next to the bed.

"Take these."  Wilson handed Dick the painkillers and a bottle of water.  Dick thought about pointing out that Wilson didn't have the authority to drug him either, but lost the impulse under the exhaustion.  He swallowed the pills.

"Now get in bed."

Dick crawled up on the bed.  "Do you want me to take off my pants?" he asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

"No."  Wilson casually manhandled him until Dick was on his back, on a pillow, watching Wilson draw the covers back.

Wilson got in after him, and pressed the folded towel to Dick's ribs--Dick hissed at the sudden shock of ice, but then gradually relaxed as the numbing set in.

"What do you want me to do?" Dick said, or thought he said.  It was getting more and more difficult to keep his attention focused on Wilson.  The man was shifting on the bed, sitting next to him, drawing the covers over them, a warm, burning presence at Dick's side.

"Close your eyes," came the order.  Dick followed it.  Maybe it would be easier if he wasn't watching.

He didn't know when the darkness slipped to unconsciousness.

[hunterrrs]

There are always plenty of storylines surrounding the Penguins each year at training camp. One that has flown under the radar to those on the outside, but has been discussed inside the locker room, is who’s going to replace Brian Dumoulin as team DJ.

“We’ve been talking about that!” Drew O’Connor said. “It’s a job nobody really wants, because it’s a lot of pressure. It’s a thankless job. Dumo was really good.”

Right now, it sounds like defensemen P.O Joseph and Marcus Pettersson are the top-two candidates for the role that Dumoulin had filled since 2016. The person is responsible for what music comes out of the locker room speakers ahead of practices, morning skates and games to get the group in the right state of mind.

Pettersson found himself in the mix because he’s a good singer, having gotten up in front of the boys to sing karaoke a couple of times.

When fellow Swede Patric Hornqvist was with the Penguins, the guys and their significant others dressed as Abba one Halloween, and did Dancing Queen at the team party. Pettersson then hit the stage solo another time, belting out Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody for the group.

But performing and DJ’ing are two different things, which is why Pettersson thinks Joseph is a better fit.

“He knows what’s hot right now in the music industry, he follows it,” Pettersson said. “I think he’d make a great team DJ. There’s a lot of pressure that comes with the DJ spot. There’s a lot of sleepless nights trying to figure it out. We’ve got to come up with somebody. I’m not throwing myself in there, I’m throwing P.O in there.”

Joseph has the captain’s vote as well, with Sidney Crosby believing he’s the right person for the job. Letang also thinks P.O would do well.

“I'll take it,” Joseph said with a laugh and a sigh. “It's just hard sometimes. I think it's the hardest thing to do around here, to be honest.”

That’s because not only does the team DJ need a variety of songs that cover everybody’s tastes, they also have to read the mood accordingly, like playing something more upbeat if guys are tired or more chill if everyone’s feeling good.

Fortunately, Joseph has said he’s such a mood person for life in general, and that includes music. He also has diverse tastes, learning to enjoy listening to country music when he was playing junior hockey in the Maritimes; loving hip hop, rap, EDM/dance music, and indie folk; and appreciating some of the good rock classics that everybody knows the lyrics to, even if they’re not his preference.

If Joseph does take over, he would ask everyone for their preferences, and go from there.

“I would try to please everyone,” he said. “I feel like there's definitely a different side of music from every guy in the room. Dumo did a pretty good job last year just kind of asking guys what their kind of music was. I heard some 80s and some 90s rock, which is not what I usually play at home. But I guess if you just bring different types of music in the room, people will just start liking it.”

rip my sweet dumo, it’s poj’s dj era now

[puckpocketed]

30/06/2024 - The Colorado Avalanche draft Tory Pitner 185th overall.

I think that I can use my brain and really bait other players into plays that they don't want to make and then close out. Really take away time and space, and ultimately just be a prick to play against - I don't know if I can say that on this - but I think that I can defend really well.

[full draft day interview transcript + an introduction by me under the cut]

Foreword: This transcript was done by hand to the best of my ability and edited for clarity. In bold text are my highlights, parts I thought were noteworthy and interesting. I removed filler words (um's and uh's). In square brackets are where I've added words or adjusted words for clarity. In the regular parentheses are small notes for added context. Tory Pitner is a fascinating player. He does not have the high-end skill you saw go in the first round. He is foremost a shutdown d-man. But he is smart, driven, methodical in his preparation and training, and most of all a true scholar and lover of the game. If anyone has an EP Rinkside subscription, I would encourage you to read the article written about him. The bulk of it is an interview, in which he goes into vivid detail about several top draft picks from this year whom he has played against, and how he goes about shutting them down. He has their on-ice habits broken down and analysed; from their handedness to the types of shots they like to make and the dekes they like to use. He watches NHL defensemen, describing his study with the fervour of an academic, a mad scientist, and a fan all at once. He has charmed me utterly, and I think it's because we love hockey in such similar ways. I love the details of the game, I love watching good and interesting hockey above all else, and I absolutely love studying it (albeit on an amateur level). And, okay, I don't like to make bold predictions, so I won't. All I have is hope. I hope he grows and thrives, I hope everyone one day recognises how special he is, and most of all I hope he makes it. Tory Pitner, no matter who you play for and where you're playing, I will always be rooting for you!!

Q: How would you describe [your] feelings right now?

TP: It's pretty unbelievable. I mean, it's a great feeling. Colorado is a great organisation, and especially down the road from Denver [University] it's going to be really, really fun to go to a lot of games and just see the progression in the team - in my game - to hopefully one day be there.

Q: So, knowing that you were going to D.U., were you maybe kind of hopeful that it'd be the Avs?

TP: Yeah. I talked to the Avs a little bit during the year and stayed in contact with some of their scouts, so every time they picked I was kind of on the edge of my seat - but I'm happy to be here and really excited.

Q: What are the strengths in your game?

TP: I'd say that my defending is probably my biggest strength. I think that I can use my brain and really bait other players into plays that they don't want to make and then close out. Really take away time and space, and ultimately just be a prick to play against - I don't know if I can say that on this - but I think that I can defend really well.

I'd say my player comparable is John Marino; his ability to play against those top line guys and shut them down every night. I mean, you just saw him get traded so [he's] obviously a very valuable piece in the NHL, and he was a sixth round draft pick too. I'm really excited to hopefully continue that development path over at D.U. to round out all the other areas of my game to play in the NHL.

Q: So you'd say Denver is a good choice for you, for college?

TP: Yeah. I'd say, obviously, the coaching staff first of all, [David Carle] is an unbelievable coach; and then just the proven track record they have at developing NHL defensemen. Being there every day, you see all the guys that come back, and they want to be at D.U. All the guys that they've sent to the NHL, they still come back to train there - train with Matt Shaw, the strength coach, and skate on the ice. Everyone there; it's kind of a brotherhood. It's a great system for [anyone] to go through if they want to get to the NHL.

Q: Did you get a chance to speak to Jake Fisher? (Colorado draft pick #121 overall)

TP: I'm actually roommates with Fish at D.U. We moved in on Sunday and so it's kind of cool that we both got picked here.

Q: So have you talked to him since?

TP: I haven't. I gotta be honest, I put my phone down after round three and kind of tried not to go on it. But yeah, no, we'll definitely talk. I'll see Fish [on] Sunday when I land. We probably have some studying to do for our Geography class. No, it'll be good. I know he was really excited, I'm really excited, too.

Q: Have you ever been to an Avs game?

TP: I have not, no. But I heard that the D.U. guys go all the time, especially with it being right downtown, so [I'm] really looking forward to getting out there and seeing Ball Arena live. I've driven past it a few times, just heading back to campus and whatnot, but I'll be really excited to get inside and see what it's like.

Q: How did [the Youngstown Phantoms] help you develop, to get to this point? (inaudible)

TP: For sure. I mean, obviously it was great my first year, getting to experience winning the Clark Cup Championship there was super cool for me, and it was a great learning experience being able to be around great leaders like Shane Lachance and Chase Pietila - who got picked earlier today. Being able to be around those kind of guys was awesome for me. And then my second year, taking a step into a bigger role with the team, talking with [coach] Andy Contois a lot about my game, working on different areas that I need to improve, and improving on my strengths, too, [like] being hard to play against. So I think overall they helped me round out my game, and I'm looking forward to keep rounding out that game at D.U.

Q: What has your Draft Day experience been like here at the Sphere? (inaudible)

TP: Yeah, no, it was long. Woke up early, couldn't really sleep too much. Woke up, just kind of got a workout in to get moving, you know, have something to do. Then walked over here - I'm staying at a hotel that's not too far - so, walked over. Sat down after having some breakfast and then kind of just watched the draft. It's been pretty cool, though. I have my family here, my agent as well, [and] one of my coaches. It's been really nice to have everyone here supporting me.

Q: What about the way that Colorado plays defence excites you?

TP: I'd say that I love how they're pretty freeing with all their defensemen. Even down the lineup, you look at Josh Manson still getting up in the play joining as a fourth man. Sam Girard obviously loves to do that. They obviously have great defensemen like Cale Makar running their power play. [They] love being really active. I think that's something that I'm looking to add more to my game, too, and so the freedom to do that in Colorado is something I'm really looking forward to - especially at D.U. as well, having that freedom. Finding the middle in a lot of their breakouts, not a lot of off-the-glass plays or up the wall; they like to really possess the puck. I'm really looking forward to being able to hold on to the puck a little bit longer and find some middle support, which I think will ultimately help my game break down the opponent and just add another element - which will be really fun.

Q: What players did you idolise as you came up?

TP: It's kind of been a lot of different ones, but I really wanted to play defence because of Nick Lidstrom. When I was younger, one of my coaches - actually, Anže Kopitar's brother - Gašper Kopitar; he was my defense coach in LA when I played for the junior Kings when I was younger, and he told me 'If you want to be a defenseman, [go] watch Nick Lidstrom.' So I found some YouTube video - and I think I've watched it like 400 times or something like that. I've watched his NHL 36 multiple times, just to get me going or just to learn his routines. So idolising him growing up and then seeing the great person and defenseman he was; it really made me want to be [one], and I wanted to play hockey even more.

[alpineshift]

random ask time!

pick five Devils players and assign them a summer Olympics sport to compete in. why did you choose that sport for them?

go!

oh I love this, it's making me think! personally I'm assigning them sports for entirely selfish reasons (aka events I want to see them compete in). it wouldn't necessarily be bc I think one of the boys has any super specific characteristic that makes them suitable for a particular sport 😂 also nobody gets golf bc fuck golf LOL

Jonas Siegenthaler - surfing. IDK - I think Siegs has the vibes. I think he'd do well in the water. He's such a balanced and steady kind of guy. I think he's one of those dudes that look effortlessly cool with a wetsuit tied around his waist and a board tucked under the arm. I want him to do the Gabriel Medina #1 pose flying out of the water like a rock star.

Nico Hischier - rugby. On the Paris Olympics site it says ruby sevens and IDK what the difference is, but whatever. I assume Nico is decent in field sports bc he used to play soccer. I think some of his on-ice playmaking skills would be useful in this scenario. This has nothing to do with the fact that rugby players have monster thighs I swear. I also want to see him go full beast mode and drag all the guys trying to tackle him as he makes a break for the try line.

Jack Hughes - tennis. I'm imagining him competing in men's singles, but I think he could also play doubles with one of his brothers or something. Jack's quick, strategic, got stamina, has good eye-hand coordination. I also think he could thrive pretty well in a solo sport, he's got that 'dialled in' mode down to a science. Not known for super powerful serves but gets internet love/hate for really sneaky saves and tricky shots that are hard to receive.

Luke Hughes - fencing. Specifically the épée category, which is the only discipline where the whole body is a valid target. Since Luke is a defensemen, it'd be interesting to put him in the one event where he has to do the most to defend! He's a tall boy so I think having a reach advantage would be great. I also didn't know this but the épée sword is the heaviest of the three. I also just want to give Luke a sword.

Nate Bastian - mountain biking. So it's not olympics related but I saw that clip of the American biker Aaron Gwin snapping his bike's chain literally a second after he left the gate but went full 'fuck it we ball' mode and won anyway. I'm assigning this vibe to Nater. I think Nate is someone who's a little rough-and-tumble and not afraid to get out there and get dirty! Speedy downhill racing! Out in the wilderness! Thriving in the noise of the spectators and cowbells and cheers!

That's my five - thanks for the fun ask! (You gotta tell me your top five picks and their assigned sports now too LOL)

[wehaveagathering]

Love following your flyers content ! What are you most excited about this season??

Omg thank you so much!

EVERYTHING!!! Theres not a single player on this whole team that I’m not looking forward to seeing in action this season. I cant wait to see Ersson play a full season as a starter, see Fedotov get acclimated to the US, maybe see Foerster and Brink take an offensive step forward, get more from Drysdale or Tippett or TK. And of course, see Matvei Michkov play 🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢⭐️⭐️⭐️

I’m also pretty stoked to learn more about hockey. Obviously, I understand general strategies and setup of the game but I want to learn more about particular roles of the players - plays with F1, F2, F3 vs LW, C, RW, or how defensemen play in particular situations. What makes Couturier’s plays as a center different from Frost’s? I know Coots is a defensive forward and Frost is a more creative playmaker but that’s only because I’ve been told that by reporters and hockey analysts online. I want to be able to see the plays for myself. One thing I am going to try to do is pick like, one player to follow in every game. Like maybe I just watch Joel Farabee every time he’s onscreen to see how he interacts with everything going on on the ice, and maybe I’ll understand hockey plays better.

Honestly, the thing I’m most excited for is to see this team back in action, pretty much all together. I know a lot of fans were complaining that Briere didnt move enough pieces in the off season, but I’m just excited to see all of my favorite players again! I am really hoping to watch all of them get even better, see who works well with Michkov and how the lines shape up. I get all of my team back! What other NHL fan can say that??

[korshrimpski]

CARTER YAKEMCHUK APPRECIATION POST

Carter Yakemchuk was drafted 7th overall and all you have to do is click my profile to see why I’m doing this

A physical offensive defenceman

last season with the Calgary Hitmen he got 30 goals which is the franchise record by a defenceman

might seem like he has a personality of a carboard cut out but it's because he's *dialed*

Literally any interview with him he’s so reserved

Was expected to go 11th out of the North American skaters but on draft day he went 7th!!

He leaned on his teammate/roommate from the Calgary Hitmen Carson Wetsch during the drafting process (draft combine, interviews, prospect games etc.)

quote he said about Carson Wetsch during the draft experience, “I mean the whole year, just to go through with it with Wetsch is pretty special… to be here with him, you know it’s just a familiar face I can go to talk to and it’s been a great experience to do it with him.”

And to add more to these two, this photo

He prefers two way defensemen and likes Morgan Rielly and Evan Bouchard’s game and how they produce offensively

His nickname is yak

He graduated last year (2023) and jokingly called himself an academic weapon after while earlier that school year he allegedly was 50 days behind him in school work (he’s so real for that)

Un-privated his Insta account after he got drafted

The saying “yak on the attack” better follow this man around I’m not joking

Like the classic cup in the helmet to prank his teammates

Had 35 friends and family attending his draft, which is insane, but good for him hope everyone had a fun time

He talks a lot about how he likes spending time with his family

Represented team Canada on the U18 team in 2023 and came 3rd

When asked what other job he would have if it weren’t hockey player he said he would go into another sports most likely NFL (and play quarterback specifically)

His cheat meal is a burger

Loves fishing

“What animal would you be?” He answered a crocodile on the ice and a monkey off the ice and his reasoning is because they are calm

His favourite player growing up was Jordan Eberle

he’s an oilers fan

He was born in Fort McMurray Alberta, grew up in Fort Saskatchewan which is 25km away from Edmonton

Should mention that he’s not going to play in the NHL next season he’s just going to be a sens prospect

Anyways sorry this is so short this is all I could find about him :)

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

AU Fics (2) Masterlist

part one, part three

a kingdom of hearts (but not of love) (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton M, 12k

Summary: luke's a prince. well, a prince who loves to wear dresses and loves girly things. however, he feels though he's missing that special someone in his life. although it may just change when he meets a special prince named ashton.

or the one where luke's basically a princess, ashton is his soulmate, and things get in their fucking way before they fall in love.

and what if you'd never smiled at me (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum T, 14k

Summary: He opens up the loaf from the cut, exposing the pale inside that was previously encased by the dark crust. He wonders if you were to split people open whether they would match their appearance; he worries that his own exterior might be a little too much like the hard crust of his sourdough. Not Luke though. He’s pretty sure people like Luke are as soft and golden on the inside as they are on the outside.

x

Calum's really not happy about the new bakery that's just opened up down the road from his own bakery; it's gaudy and pastel and covered in flowers and is an offence to the name of baking. At least he's got a new regular to make him feel better about it all. One with a smile that can turn a day around just like that, even on a Tuesday.

angels choking on their halos (ao3) - aliciaxadrienne michael/ashton M, 10k

Summary: Fame and notoriety mean nothing when the dead are coming back to life. Or; the zombie apocalypse happens at the worst possible time and things go haywire.

be your teenage dream tonight (ao3) - burningthefutures luke/ashton E, 8k

Summary: Ashton, a photographer living in NYC, finds himself entranced when he sets his eyes on Luke Hemmings, a famous model, at a party.

can't help falling in love with you (ao3) - prettyluke (parting_ways) luke/ashton T, 50k

Summary: Luke shows up in Britain after 25 years right in time for World War Two to start, and Ashton has been waiting for someone to yank him from his melancholy since Christmas of 1914.

come alive and bring the thunder (ao3) - merlypops michael/luke, past luke/ashton E, 36k

Summary: Prince Luke of the Faeries is forced to marry King Michael after a War between kingdoms threatens to tear their lives apart... and maybe Luke and Michael fall in love too. Maybe.

delete this transmission (ao3) - horriblekids michael/ashton, luke/calum M, 67k

Summary: “Yeah,” he says, catching sight of his reflection in the dimly reflective surface and running fingers through his hair to fluff it up. And instead of getting on the mag-train home like he wants to, he catches the northbound train to the greenlawn with Calum. “You know, I think I might not go through with it,” he tells his best friend, meaning his activation. They sit together across from the back doors of the car and watch the adverts for an upcoming showing of ‘Titanic’ at the interactive theater. While Calum sits beside him silently he gnaws on a thumbnail and wonders whether it’s too late to get his money back.

“You can’t go back on it now,” Calum tells him.

And it’s true: His payment has already been processed, the credits removed from his profile. The invoice showed up in his e-net overnight and he’d added it to his encrypted folder. “It’s just - weird,” he says, weighing each of the words on his tongue before he speaks. “To be in charge of another person like that. I don’t want that responsibility.”

'Do You Believe in Miracles?' (ao3) - The_Lady michael/luke E, 83k

Summary: Michael Clifford gets things done. When he wants something, he goes after it until he achieves it. With two Frozen Four championships under his belt and a hockey scholarship to one of the best schools in the country, Michael is not used to being beat, but if hockey has taught him anything, it's how to recognize when he's about to get slammed and his public speaking class? That is barring down on him like two-hundred-pound defensemen during a breakaway,, so he may need to swallow his pride.

An opportunity of a lifetime dangles in front of Luke Hemmings – the role of Jack O'Callahan in limited series about hockey's 'Miracle on Ice' – the only problem is that Luke may have exaggerated his own hockey prowess in his initial audition. Now with a callback on the books, he needs to learn to skate and learn fast.

Heartache in the Director's Chair (ao3) - Emmybazy luke/calum T, 19k

Summary: Calum wants to make it as an actor. His world gets turned upside down when Ashton Irwin, the executive producer, casts him to play the lead in a movie with the famous actor, Michael Clifford directed by Hollywoods golden boy director, Luke Hemmings. Luke Hemmings' reputation of being cool, calm, and collected precedes him, so why is he treating Calum so oddly?

Or; Luke is smitten by Calum and Calum is oblivious. They make a movie.

It's a hell of a feeling though (ao3) - thenewbrokenscene michael/luke M, 58k

Summary: [AU, actor/model Luke and musician Michael]

After a recent scandal and the subsequent publicity nightmare, Luke Hemmings doesn't need any more trouble. He's just trying to enjoy his best friend's birthday party. But who the fuck invited Michael Clifford?

It was always you (ao3) - CliffordAffliction luke/calum, michael/ashton E, 48k

Summary: Everyone wants Calum Hood and Luke can have him just as long as it’s on Calum’s terms. Thing’s take a turn for the worst when Luke begins to push Calum away, fed up with the way he treats him, and Calum begins to realize how much he really needs Luke in his life after all.

let me love you - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) luke/ashton T, 10k

Summary: Luke Hemmings is a rockstar with a troubled past. He's struggling with an alcohol addiction and a career that's going downhill, but Calum isn't giving up on him. Calum suggests Luke a fake boyfriend to help keep the bad press away. That's where Ashton comes in, Ashton who is an embodiment of sunshine. Luke's hesitant due to his failed past relationships, but he agrees, because he knows this is what he needs to save his career.

Lost Hearts (ao3) - CliffordAffliction ot4 E, 177k

Summary: Ashton, Luke, Calum and Michael live in four different worlds in high school and each one of them is in love with someone who loves someone else. This can't possibly end well...or can it?

Roses Are Red (ao3) - mukeclemmings luke/calum, minor michael/ashton T, 5k

Summary: Ashton and Luke open a flower shop next door to a tattoo parlor, and relationships blossom (quite literally).

Somewhere in Neverland (ao3) - HeartnArrow luke/ashton N/R, 51k

Summary: high school lashton au where best friends, ashton and luke hook up at a party and everything changes.

Stand Again (ao3) - crash-queen aka stelleshine (stelleshine) luke/calum, michael/luke, jack/luke, michael/ashton E, 69k

Summary: The promise of a good pie brings Calum into Luke’s bakery one day, and Luke finds more than just a new customer.

the flatmate arrangement (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum T, 20k

Summary: Hi Calum/Poor Struggling Paralegal,   So I’ll be upfront with you. It’s a one-bed flat. I also live here. HOWEVER before you delete this and think I’m a freak, I work nights so I wouldn’t be here anytime you would be. You can have the flat exclusively from 6 pm to 8 am, Saturday night and all day Sunday. Understand this sounds like a bit of a crazy arrangement but I could do with the cash, let me know what you think?

Luke Hemmings (Poor Struggling Children’s Nurse)

A 'The Flatshare' AU

Trapped Under Your Spell (ao3) - mariawritesstuff (orphan_account) luke/calum N/R, 26k

Summary: Calum opens his eyes and grins. From where he is, he can see Luke smiling down at him. The sun is shining from behind Luke’s head and from Calum’s position it kind of looks like Luke himself is the sun. Calum is momentarily stunned.

Or, A Hogwarts Cake AU where the boys are the boys and feelings are caught/have been there all along.

[authortobenamedlater]

@a2on1break this is for you because you sent me that ask last year asking about my long-abandoned Keeping Up With the Raptors stories and got me thinking about those characters I loved so much again. 

I’ve had this written for a little bit and in the spirit of trying to get over that dumb hockey game last week, I’m gonna post it.  I’m not sure if I’ll ever put this on AO3.

I’m also just slightly irked that Seattle got a hockey team before I could get this series any further along, LOL.

Before we get started: The Catholic/Protestant “argument” is some good-natured iron-sharpening-iron between friends. It’s not meant to be taken super seriously and I won’t entertain people getting mad about it or telling me how wrong I am.

--

“Ever think about what we’ll do when all this is over?”

Andor Ronningen raised an eyebrow at his defense partner.

“You must have thought about it,” Hank went on.

Andor looked past Hank to the clouds below. “Go back to Bergen, maybe.”

Hank put his Kindle down and faced Andor head on. “You went through all that trouble becoming an American citizen so you could go back to Norway?”

“You asked,” Andor harrumphed.

“You want to live where it’s winter six months out of the year? Nine feet of snow, always dark—”

“You’re from Colorado!”

“Yeah, and I don’t live there anymore.” 

“I never said I was going back for good,” Andor clarified. “Just for a little while. You could come visit, you know.”

“That’s a great idea,” Hank said wryly. “Put my wife and our six children on a 24-hour plane ride.” 

“Donna and Ashley are basically adults.” 

“Basically adults who still rely on me and Katie to pay for the very air they breathe.”

Andor rolled his eyes. “All right, what are you going to do when all this is over, you little ray of sunshine?”

Hank seemed to think. “Maybe I’ll go to law school after all.”

Andor snorted. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not? My LSAT scores are probably still good.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Andor chuffed. “It’s only been…twenty years?”

“Nineteen,” Hank corrected pointedly.

“Yes, that one year makes such a difference.”

“Hey, you were gonna retire last year,” Hank said. “Now you’re about to play in another Cup Final. A year can make a lot of difference.”

Andor grunted. “Feeling every second of it.”

Hank sobered a little. “Me, too.”

“Gosh, Hank, we’re old.”

“We really are.”

“Did it hurt this much last year?” Andor asked.

“I don’t think I was this sore last year,” Hank answered.

“My knee still hurts from that fall in Minnesota last week.”

“You did go down pretty hard,” Hank mused.

“Don’t try to make me feel better about it. I did not go down that hard.” Andor paused. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yup,” Hank deadpanned.

“Huh. If you were Catholic, you’d have to go to confession for that.”

“And that’s why I’m Protestant.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“You also still haven’t sold me on papal infallibility.”

“Are you really going there again?” Andor huffed.

“I’m just saying, I’m not sold.”

Andor chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll keep working on you.” He gave Hank an almost fond smile. “Maybe I’ll bring you back to the fold by next year.”

“Or maybe I’ll bring you over to the light.”

Andor glared playfully. “Don’t bet on it.”

“Well,” Hank picked up his Kindle. “A year can make a lot of difference.”

--

For anyone who read this far: Hank and Andor were 41 and 43, I think? I’d have to go back through the stories. But they are old by hockey standards and like to play up their grumpy old defensemen act.

That doesn’t seem as old now as it did when I started this series 12 years ago.

[stories-from-peter]

The Greatest Floor Hockey Game In History

The last High School I attended was Killarney in Vancouver, British Columbia. One year someone organized an intramural floor hockey league with games to be played during lunch hour. I had played floor hockey in Montreal and loved the game. I decided to captain my own team and asked a few friends to join me.

We played a few games and were doing very well in the league standings. There was one team that was stacked with all the best athletes in the school and they were crushing all their opponents. Our turn came to play them and I was dreading the result which would certainly be embarrassing for us. Being captain, I had no choice but to show up for the game. As game time got closer I was standing alone and feared I would have to forfeit the game. Then, my buddy Dan Bartsch appeared, and a few minutes later Wayne Isely joined us. Dan assessed the situation and offered to be goalie. I thought Dan was either insane or a masochist but I wasn’t going to argue with his choice.

The game started with our opponents looking rather smug and quickly getting control of the puck. Their two defensemen started walking slowly down the floor, lazily passing the puck back and forth between them. I saw an opportunity and waited for them to get close enough for me to grab the puck as it was being passed. Pretty soon my wish came true and as the puck slowly crossed the floor in front of me I raced forward, grabbed the puck with my stick, and with nobody in front of me I quickly fired it past their stunned goal tender.

I expected this would give my team a lift but it seemed to inspire our opposition much more. The puck was whizzing around our net with Dan frantically blocking or deflecting shot after shot. Wayne and I were almost powerless to even slow down the onslaught. The shots came thick and fast but Dan never gave up and just kept moving with every shot. I was sure his energy would fail him and he would give up and let a few pucks go by. By half time the score was still 1-0 and we talked about making a change. Wayne was tired of playing defense so we switched places.

The second half of the game started just like the first with the opposition defensemen passing the puck back and forth. I’m not sure what they were thinking but Wayne was a fast learner and did exactly what I had done earlier. Now with the score 2-0 and not much time left. Our opponents were desperate and unleashed a hail of shots at Dan. Wayne and I were so worn out from trying to slow down the fusillade of pucks that we were all but useless. I had to watch poor Dan moving like a dancer in the goal blocking everything that came at him. The shots were hard and fast from every angle and distance. I was sure that something, even just a lucky deflection or strange bounce would slip past him.

As the game ended I could only stand in awe of what had transpired. A team of three had beaten a full team of top athletes in a very embarrassing fashion. I asked Dan about his amazing feat and he confided in me that he was actually a semi-professional lacrosse player and played goal for the Coquitlam Adanacs. He swore me to secrecy but 60 years later I feel his story needs to be told.