#Montreal Canadiens Imagine

[hockeyboistrash]

didn't think i'd be writing a blurb for a canadien's player yet here we are. the hold this man has on me 😮‍💨 gonna be honest idk where the ending was going Arber dares Juraj to ask you for your number. What he doesn't know is that he already has it, three months ago

Arber is a little shit, on and off the ice. Tonight was no different. "There ain't no way she will say yes to you if you ask her out." Arber insisted. They were a few beers down and now at the point of the evening where they were daring each other to do things. You were the subject of the latest dare.

Juraj doesn't even know how you came up in conversation. "Oh and she will say yes to you?" He scoffed. Arber wasn't your type and Juraj knew that.

"I'll bet you $20 right now that I can go over there and ask her for her number and she'll give it me." Arber said, confident in his ability to woo women. Juraj bit his lip slightly, hiding the smirk that threatened to cross his face. It was going to be the easiest $20 he's made in his life.

"You're on." Juraj said, holding his hand out for Arber to shake who happily shook it. He downed the rest of his beer, adjusting the hat on his head before heading over to your table. He was confident, Juraj could tell from the way he walked over. He almost felt bad that you were going to destroy that, almost.

It didn't take long before Arber came back to the table with his tail tucked between his legs, his cocky smile long gone. "I'd like to see you try." He scowled at the Slovak who was trying to hold back his laughter but failing miserably.

"Okay." He said, taking one last sip of his drink and winking at his teammate. "Watch how it's done." Arber shook his head, grinning to himself thinking he was about to watch Juraj fail too.

You quirked your eyebrow as the 6 foot 4 forward slid up next to you wearing a model worthy smile. "Was your friend over there getting rejected not enough? You want a turn now?" You teased. You weren't exactly sure what game they were paying but that wasn't going to stop you from joining in.

"I need a favor." Juraj started. You leaned closer, intrigued by the proposition. Your top was low cut, he could see the outline of your black lacy bra. Juraj wanted nothing more than to take you to the nearest bathroom but he knew he had to keep his hands to himself. At least for now. "My friend over there thinks I can't get your number and I want to prove him wrong. Maybe mess with him a little."

"And what do I get out of it?" You asked, placing a hand on his arm. You knew you were laying it on thick but judging by the way Juraj's teammate was squinting at the two of you it was working.

"I can think of a few ways to thank you later." He said, his accent thick. It was enough for you to clench your thighs together. You didn't want him later, you wanted him now.

"How about you thank me now by taking me home." You suggested, biting your lip seductively. "I'm wearing matching panties." You whispered in his ear, sliding a piece of paper into his pocket to keep up with appearances.

Juraj cleared his throat, trying to think of anything but you laid out on his bed wearing nothing but your black lacy set. He grabbed your hand yanking you up out of your chair. You quickly grabbed your bag and jacket, a shit eating grin plastered on your lips knowing you were in for it tonight.

He stopped by the table Arber was sat at wordlessly holding his hand out for the $20. Arber was in too much shock to argue with him giving him the twenty dollar bill.

"Oh by the way, this is Y/N." Juraj shouted behind him as he dragged you out of the bar.

"Y/N?" Arber asked himself, the name sounding familiar but couldn't quite place where he heard it until it clicked a few seconds later. "Your girlfriend?!"

[777bae]

SAFE IN HIS HANDS JURAJ SLAFKOVSKY

Summary :: Pregnancy is hard, but with Juraj by your side, it feels like you’re not doing it alone. From making breakfast to soothing your aches, his quiet love builds the foundation for the family you’re about to become.

Warnings :: pregnancy aches, kissing

Word count :: 6.7k

The first thing you feel when you wake up is warmth—Juraj’s body heat still lingering on the sheets beside you, even though he’s no longer there. It’s a fading warmth, the kind that tells you he must have left the bed not too long ago, but without him, the space beside you feels vast and empty. Your body, still heavy with sleep, reacts before your mind fully registers his absence. Your hand instinctively reaches out, fingers searching for the familiar solidness of him, but all you find is the cool fabric of his pillow.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you blink against the golden light spilling in through the curtains, painting the room in gentle hues of morning. The air is quiet, save for the distant sounds of life beginning in the rest of the house—the faint hum of the refrigerator, the occasional creak of the floorboards, the muffled clatter of dishes in the kitchen. You know without a doubt that it’s him, moving around with quiet purpose, already tending to you in ways he thinks you won’t notice.

You shift slightly beneath the covers, attempting to stretch out the stiffness lingering in your limbs, but even the smallest movement makes you acutely aware of the changes in your body. The weight of your growing belly settles heavily against you, pressing down in a way that wasn’t there just a few months ago. It’s strange, how even something as simple as rolling over now requires thought, effort. You pause for a moment, adjusting, breathing through the slight strain before settling into a more comfortable position.

And yet, despite the aches, despite the sluggishness, you wouldn’t change a thing. If anything, you revel in it. Every sensation—the tightness in your skin, the occasional discomfort, the deep stretch of muscles adjusting to something far greater than yourself—only serves as a reminder that your baby is growing. Thriving.

Your hand drifts down almost instinctively, fingers grazing over the gentle curve of your stomach, feeling the warmth of your own skin beneath your palm. The gesture is familiar now, something you catch yourself doing more and more often, as if your touch alone could remind the little life inside you that you’re here. That you love them. That you are waiting for them.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you imagine them, curled up safely within you, their tiny hands and feet tucked close. You wonder if they’re awake, if they can somehow sense your touch, if they know that their father was just here, that his hands have rested in the very same place more times than you can count.

Before you can dwell too long in thought, you hear it—the faint clatter of dishes, the hum of the refrigerator door opening and closing, the soft shuffle of Juraj’s feet against the hardwood floor. The sounds are gentle, careful, but unmistakable. You know them now, just as you know the warmth of his hands or the way his voice wraps around you like something solid and steady.

A slow smile tugs at your lips. He’s up early again. He always is these days.

You can’t remember the last time he truly slept in. Even on the rare mornings when he doesn’t have early practice, he’s the first to rise, moving around the house with as much quiet as someone his size can manage. You’ve woken up to the absence of his warmth enough times now to know that this has become his routine. That even before the sun has fully crept into the sky, before the weight of the day has settled over either of you, he is already thinking of you—of you and the life you carry.

The bedroom door creaks open a moment later, and there he is, standing in the doorway, his tall frame nearly filling the space. A tray is balanced carefully in his large hands, the soft glow of morning light catching against the edges of the dishes. He’s still in sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, the fabric clinging slightly to the broad planes of his chest. His hair is tousled, the strands falling haphazardly over his forehead, and you can tell just by looking at him that he didn’t bother fixing it before coming in. He got out of bed long enough to make sure you had breakfast before anything else.

His eyes find yours instantly, and the way his face softens when he sees you awake makes your breath catch. It’s subtle—the way his expression shifts, the way the corners of his mouth tug upward—but it’s unmistakable. A warmth spreads through his gaze, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world just to look at you.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep, low and warm in a way that settles deep in your chest.

“Morning,” you murmur back, your voice groggy, your body still adjusting to the day.

He steps forward, careful, deliberate, like he doesn’t want to wake you too harshly. He crosses the room in just a few strides, moving with the quiet ease of someone who has done this a hundred times before. He sets the tray down on the nightstand, but before you can move, he’s already reaching for you.

His hands find you easily, familiar and sure, slipping behind your back as he helps you sit up. His touch is gentle but firm, his fingers pressing lightly against the tense muscles there, offering just enough support to make the movement easier. You sigh, leaning into him for a brief moment, and he lets you, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his breath close, the concern in his voice so instinctive, so natural, that you know he probably asks himself the same question even when you’re not around to hear it.

You nod, offering him a small, tired smile. “Yeah. Just needed a second.”

His brows furrow slightly, like he’s still assessing, still making sure, but after a moment, he nods and leans back slightly.

“I made you breakfast,” he says then, his voice lighter now, the hint of a proud grin tugging at the edges of his lips. He lifts the tray slightly, as if presenting his masterpiece. “I tried to make the eggs the way you like them.”

You glance at the tray—scrambled eggs, perfectly golden toast, a neat arrangement of fresh fruit, and a smoothie, the kind he knows is your favorite. You don’t miss the way the edges of the toast are cut just right, or how the smoothie is in the glass you always reach for first. Small details, maybe, but they don’t go unnoticed.

A laugh escapes you, quiet but full of affection. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, even though you already know exactly what his response will be.

As expected, his brows pull together, his expression shifting into something stubborn—something utterly convinced that the thought is ridiculous. “Of course, I did.”

And then, softer, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world:

“You’re carrying our baby.”

The words settle between you, heavy in a way that makes your chest tighten. His gaze drops, just for a moment, to the curve of your belly, his expression shifting from playful to something deeper. There’s an awe in his eyes, quiet but unshakable, like the simple fact of your existence like this—growing, glowing, holding something so precious—will never stop astounding him.

His fingers brush absently over your blanket, like he wants to reach for you, to feel you, but he hesitates. Not out of uncertainty, but reverence.

Then he lifts his gaze back to yours, tilting his head slightly. “You need to eat,” he says, like it’s non-negotiable.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real exasperation behind it. You pick up a piece of toast anyway, taking a bite, and the second you hum in satisfaction, you feel it—the way his shoulders relax slightly, the way his lips curve into a small, contented smile.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches you, his eyes lingering, his fingers tapping idly against the tray.

And in that quiet moment, as you chew slowly, as he sits beside you with nothing but warmth in his expression, you realize something:

This isn’t just about breakfast. It’s not just about making sure you eat.

It’s about you.

It’s about the way he wakes up before you, the way he moves through the house quietly so you don’t stir. It’s about the way he notices the smallest things—what foods you’re craving, what scents make you nauseous, which pillows help you sleep better. It’s about the way he watches over you, not because he thinks you can’t do things on your own, but because he wants to. Because he loves you. Because this—this life you’re building together—means everything to him.

You swallow, setting the toast down and reaching for his hand, threading your fingers through his. He looks down at your joined hands, then back up at you, his eyes questioning.

“How are you feeling?” he asks after a moment, his voice lower now, softer, with an edge of concern that you can hear even in the calm morning silence. His eyes are filled with an intensity that’s rare for him, an intensity only ever reserved for moments like this—when it’s just the two of you, and the world outside seems to slow down.

You sigh and settle back against the pillows, the weight of your body pressing down just a little more. “Tired. Sore. My back is killing me,” you admit, the words coming out in a slightly defeated tone, even though you don’t mean to sound like that.

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t need to think twice. The moment you finish speaking, he’s already moving, setting the tray aside as though it’s not even important anymore. There’s only you and your discomfort now. He shifts closer, his body settling next to you, and without a word, his large hands find their way to your lower back. He doesn’t rush; his fingers are deliberate, pressing into the tight muscles there with careful precision.

The relief is almost immediate, the deep ache in your back slowly unwinding beneath his touch. You let out a quiet groan, feeling your body instinctively relax, your head falling back against the pillow. The tension, the tightness you’d been carrying all morning, starts to melt away, and for a moment, you forget about everything else. There’s only him, and the soothing rhythm of his hands working over you, the quiet intimacy of it all.

Juraj chuckles softly, his breath warm against your temple as he leans in to press a gentle kiss there, the brush of his lips tender and comforting. “Better?” he asks, his voice low, holding a softness that makes your chest tighten with affection.

You nod, exhaling deeply, your body sinking further into the comfort of his touch. “Much,” you murmur, closing your eyes briefly to savor the feeling of his hands working over you.

His fingers don’t stop; they continue their slow, deliberate circles into your lower back, the pressure firm but never too much, just enough to chase away the tightness that had been plaguing you. You can tell by the way his hands move that he’s paying attention to every shift in your body, every little sign that you need more or less pressure. His touch is careful, not just because you’re carrying his child, but because he knows you. Knows what makes you feel better, knows how to soothe you when you’re tense, even when you don’t have to say a word.

As his hands continue, you find yourself losing track of time. You let your body surrender to him, sinking into the comfort of his presence. There’s something about the way he’s here with you, so steady, so reliable, that makes everything feel just a little bit easier. In this moment, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

“You really okay?” he murmurs against your temple, his breath soft on your skin, so close now that his words feel like a part of you.

You nod, though the weight of it all lingers just a little. “Yeah. Just… everything feels so heavy lately.” The words escape before you can stop them, a soft admission of the way the changes in your body are beginning to feel overwhelming. But even as you speak them, you don’t feel vulnerable. With him, it’s always okay to be honest about the discomfort, the uncertainty, the quiet struggles you don’t always voice.

He pauses for a second, his hands stilling against your back. You can feel the shift in his energy as he processes your words, and then his arm shifts, sliding over your shoulders with ease. He pulls you closer, his body pressing lightly against yours as he envelops you in his warmth. You feel the steady beat of his heart, the solid rhythm that makes you feel safe, and he traces lazy, absentminded patterns along your arm, his fingers barely skimming your skin.

It’s a touch that feels like a promise, like reassurance. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know he’s there. He’s always there. Always paying attention.

“You want to lie down for a bit?” he offers, his voice gentle, considering. He glances over at the untouched food on the tray, eyes soft with understanding. “I can bring this back later. Or make you something else if you don’t feel like eating this.” There’s no pressure in his voice, just an open offer, a simple willingness to make sure you’re comfortable, whatever that means in the moment.

You shake your head, managing a small smile. “No, I promise this is perfect,” you say, though there’s a tiny part of you that wants to protest, to tell him he doesn’t have to keep doing so much. But you know it’s no use. You already know he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d insist, just like he always does.

“You don’t have to keep fussing over me, you know,” you add softly, a playful edge in your voice, though there’s no real attempt to push him away.

He scoffs, the sound light and teasing, but there’s a warmth in it that makes you smile. He always knows how to make you feel loved, even in the simplest of ways. “Yes, I do.” His lips curl upward, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, but there’s a deep sincerity in his eyes. “It’s my job.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Your job is to play hockey.”

He chuckles at that, but his expression softens, and without warning, he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a small but tender gesture. “My job is to take care of you.”

The words hit you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. They land like a soft weight in your chest, heavier than you expect, and the simple sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell. He doesn’t say it with any dramatic flair or grand gesture. It’s just a quiet truth, a reminder of how much he cares for you, how deeply he is here—really here—with you, in this life you’re creating together.

For a moment, you’re left speechless, taken aback by the quiet weight of his words, by the depth of love that they carry. The room feels a little quieter, a little warmer as you stare up at him, searching for the right thing to say.

You reach for his hand then, intertwining your fingers with his, the touch grounding you, reminding you of the shared bond between you. “You already do,” you say softly, your voice a gentle affirmation of everything he’s been to you, everything he’s done for you. “Every single day.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles as he exhales, his shoulders relaxing slightly, like he needed to hear that. The relief that passes through him is subtle, but you see it in the way his body seems to settle more fully beside you. You feel his thumb move in small, reassuring circles against your skin, and for a moment, the world outside fades. It’s just the two of you—here, together, steady and sure.

He exhales again, and his grip on your hand tightens just a little, as though holding on to this quiet moment, this connection. His eyes soften even more as he looks at you, the deep adoration in them unmistakable. You both stay like that for a while, the silence between you comfortable and full of understanding, a silent conversation in the space you’ve created.

A few moments of quiet stretch between you, the two of you comfortably nestled in the peaceful stillness of the morning. You could hear the soft hum of the house—the quiet creak of the floorboards beneath his steps as he moves around, the faint sound of the outside world beyond the windows. But then, his voice breaks the calm, filled with the warmth and playful curiosity that you’ve come to love.

“Hey, you know what might help?” he asks, his eyes twinkling as he glances at you.

You raise an eyebrow, your tired eyes meeting his. “Please don’t say ice baths,” you joke, though you can’t help but feel a little wary at the thought.

He laughs, the deep sound rumbling in his chest. He shakes his head, his face lighting up with that familiar, comforting warmth that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the world. “No, no. A bath, though. A warm one. I can set it up for you.”

You let out a breath of relief, but then, the temptation of his suggestion tugs at you. The ache in your back and the heaviness in your feet have become constant companions, and the idea of sinking into warm water feels like the escape you didn’t even know you needed. It’s an idea that’s both simple and indulgent in the best way possible. You hesitated for only a second, but then a thought bubbles up.

“You sure?” you ask, a hint of concern slipping into your voice. You glance over at him, aware that he has practice later, and you don’t want him to take on too much. “You have practice later. You don’t have to—”

But he’s already moving, shaking his head with a reassuring smile. “I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says, his voice firm in that way he has when he’s made up his mind. There’s no room for arguing, and truthfully, you don’t even want to. He’s already started walking toward the bathroom, his footsteps soft but purposeful, the sound of the door creaking open a moment later.

Before you can say anything else, you hear the sound of water running—steady, rhythmic—and the soft shuffle of him moving around the bathroom. You picture him, lighting candles with his usual care, perhaps picking out the perfect bath salts or adding a few bubbles to the water, making everything just right. It’s like he’s curating a little moment of peace for you, and the thought alone makes your heart swell. You know he’s not just doing this out of obligation—he’s doing it because he loves you, because he wants to take care of you in ways that go beyond the obvious. He’s always been like this: attentive in the smallest, most thoughtful ways that somehow manage to make all the difference.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself get lost in the quiet sounds of him moving around, the soft rustle of fabric as he prepares the bath. You don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, he became your rock, your constant source of care, even in the most simple of moments. It’s never in grand gestures—it’s in the way he listens when you speak, in the way he anticipates your needs before you even voice them. It’s in the little things: the way he makes you breakfast, or rubs your back when you’re sore, or takes the time to prepare something as tender as a warm bath when he knows you need it.

By the time he returns to the bedroom, his face is practically glowing with excitement, like he’s just crafted the perfect game plan and he’s eager to see you enjoy it. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that catches you off guard for a moment—his usual quiet intensity turned into something playful, something entirely focused on you. He’s carrying the weight of a joy he finds in making you comfortable.

“Okay, it’s ready. Come on,” he says, his voice carrying a sense of accomplishment, as if the bath is a personal victory he’s eager for you to experience.

You can’t help but smile, your own exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the face of his unshakable enthusiasm. You make a move to sit up, but immediately, Juraj is there. He doesn’t hesitate for a second. His hands, large and strong, come to rest on your waist, steadying you with an ease that always feels both protective and intimate. His fingers press lightly against the curve of your sides as he gently helps you rise, careful not to disturb your comfort too quickly.

You can’t help but laugh softly at the way he’s handling it all. “You act like I’m made of glass,” you tease, feeling the soft weight of the moment, a soft playfulness easing some of the discomfort in your body.

He grins, but there’s something deeper in his eyes as he looks at you, something tender. “Not glass,” he corrects, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to send a shiver of warmth through your chest. “Just carrying something pretty damn important.”

Your heart swells in your chest, a rush of love filling you so completely that it feels like it could spill over. It’s not just his words, but the quiet sincerity with which he says them. It’s the way he’s here, entirely with you, not just physically, but in the way he holds your heart, your growing family, and everything in between.

He leads you gently toward the bathroom, and as you step inside, the transformation of the space takes you by surprise. The room is bathed in soft, golden light from the flickering candles he’s carefully placed around the tub. The scent of lavender fills the air, soothing and fragrant, curling around you like a soft embrace. Steam rises gently from the water, which is a warm, inviting hue—perfectly set to relax every muscle in your body. The air itself feels thick with tranquility, with a kind of calm that instantly soothes your senses.

You take a slow, appreciative breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders melt away the second you step into the space. This, this is exactly what you needed. And it’s just another thing he’s done to make sure you feel cared for—making everything just perfect. You can’t help but marvel at how in tune he is with your needs, even the ones you don’t have to say aloud.

When Juraj helps you over to the tub, he’s careful, like always, steadying you, his hands warm on your skin. You look up at him and see nothing but love in his eyes, soft and steady, as if you’re the most important thing in the world.

The warm water envelops you as soon as you sink deeper into the bath, wrapping you in a comforting embrace that seems to melt away all the tension you’ve been carrying. You let out a soft sigh, your body gradually unwinding as the heat seeps into every muscle, soothing each ache, and making the world outside this small space seem so far away. The scent of lavender fills the air, delicate and calming, its fragrance mingling with the quiet sound of the water lapping gently at the edges of the tub. The flickering light from the candles Juraj must have carefully placed around the room dances in the soft steam that rises from the bath, casting a golden glow that feels like something out of a dream—a peaceful, quiet cocoon where nothing can disturb you.

You sink lower into the water, letting it completely envelop you, your arms resting gently on the edge of the tub as you close your eyes. The softness of the moment settles over you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself truly relax. The stress of the day, of the aches in your body, of everything swirling around in your mind, fades into the background, replaced by the soothing warmth of the bath and the comforting presence of Juraj beside you.

His tall frame is leaned slightly forward, one knee resting on the floor while his arms drape casually over the edge of the tub. His gaze never leaves you, his eyes steady and watchful, a quiet satisfaction settling into his features like he’s just accomplished something monumental. There’s no rush in his movements, no need to hurry or pull away. He seems to take his time with you, as if savoring each moment of peace, of quiet connection. And though his expression is soft, there’s an intensity in the way he looks at you—something that feels almost reverent. It’s as if you’ve become his world in that instant, and every moment spent with you is something precious to him.

“How does it feel?” he asks after a moment, his voice soft and warm, like he’s asking about something far more important than just the bath. He genuinely wants to know, to make sure you’re comfortable, to make sure you’re feeling okay.

You hum in approval, your body melting deeper into the warm water as you smile, your eyes fluttering shut in contentment. “Perfect. Exactly what I needed,” you murmur, your voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly might break the tranquility of the moment.

Juraj watches you for a few beats, his gaze never wavering, as if taking in the simple sight of you—soaked in the soft glow of candlelight, surrounded by the scent of lavender, and resting in the calm of the moment. He reaches out, his large hands gentle, his fingers skimming the surface of the water in slow, absentminded circles. A ripple follows the path of his touch, the water shimmering with movement, and his fingers dip lower, cupping a handful of warm water. With a careful, almost reverent touch, he pours it over your shoulder, letting it trickle down your skin in a soft cascade, as if to help the warmth of the bath do its work on your body. The sensation of the water against your skin is so soothing that you can’t help but sigh, your muscles loosening further, the tension slowly melting away.

He does it again, this time over your arm, his touch light but deliberate, as if trying to ease away every last trace of the weight you’ve been carrying. You let him, closing your eyes for a moment and surrendering fully to the peace he’s creating for you.

His voice breaks the silence, soft but teasing, pulling you back from the depth of your thoughts. “You don’t have to stay here, you know,” you murmur, though your words are more of an invitation than a suggestion. The truth is, you don’t want him to leave. You want him here, next to you, in this quiet, intimate space.

He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling into a playful smirk. “You trying to get rid of me?” His tone is light, but there’s a touch of something more behind it—an almost amused curiosity that makes you smile despite yourself.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “No,” you admit with a grin, “just saying. You probably have better things to do.”

You know he’s busy. You know he’s got his own commitments, his own routines. But in this moment, there’s a small part of you that feels selfish, wanting to keep him here with you, wanting to hold on to this sense of calm for just a little longer.

He scoffs, as if the very idea of leaving you to your own devices is absurd. “Like what?” he asks, his voice laced with mock incredulity, and there’s a warmth in his eyes as he meets your gaze.

You arch a brow, matching his teasing tone. “I don’t know. Hockey? Working out? Watching replays?”

His expression changes instantly, though, softening into something more serious, something deeper. He doesn’t respond right away; instead, he reaches out, his fingers brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. His touch is so tender, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment longer than usual. Then, his fingers trace the curve of your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “This is more important,” he says, his voice quiet but certain. His words are not dismissive or flippant—they carry weight, a kind of sincerity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Something in your chest tightens, and for a moment, the world outside this bathroom seems to disappear completely. There’s no arguing, no words needed to fill the silence. You simply look at him, and he looks at you, and for that fleeting moment, there’s nothing else. His eyes are so open, so unguarded, and the way he says it—like he truly believes it—takes you by surprise. It’s a vulnerability you rarely see in him, yet in this moment, it feels like he’s giving you a glimpse into a part of him that is only ever shared with you.

His gaze is steady, unwavering, and you realize that there’s no doubt in his mind—there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here, in this quiet, intimate space with you. His presence is the grounding force you didn’t even know you needed, and in the simplicity of this moment, you can’t help but feel completely and utterly cherished.

You reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his, feeling the roughness of his calloused palm against your softer skin. “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, there’s a brief, stillness between you, a sudden quiet that feels like the world pausing just to catch its breath. Juraj’s grip tightens for a split second, just long enough for you to feel the weight of his fingers around yours, grounding him in the enormity of the moment. His chest rises and falls with a breath that sounds almost like a quiet hitch, his hand holding yours as if it might anchor him to the present, to this very moment where you’ve shared something so deeply vulnerable.

His eyes flick down to your hand, his thumb tracing over your knuckles in slow, thoughtful movements. The touch is gentle, but there’s a sense of intensity to it, like he’s trying to find the right words, trying to find his place in all this. Finally, after a pause that seems to stretch on just a bit longer than usual, he looks up at you, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles—a smile that’s soft and vulnerable, unlike anything you’ve seen before.

“You think so?” His voice is barely above a whisper, a question that carries more weight than just those two words. It’s a question laced with doubt, with hope, with a quiet desire to be enough, to be worthy of the future he’s already dreaming about.

You nod, your fingers tightening around his in reassurance. “I know so.” The certainty in your voice is unwavering, the words steady and sure as you meet his gaze. He needs to hear it—he needs to know that you believe in him, that you believe in everything he already is, and everything he’s going to be. He’s going to be such a good dad.

For a few moments, he doesn’t speak, just watches your hand in his, his thumb absently tracing the lines of your fingers like he’s memorizing every curve, every dip. There’s a quiet sort of reverence in his movements, as if he’s in awe of the simple fact that you two are about to embark on this journey together. And then, his voice comes, softer now, almost lost beneath the soft sound of the water lapping against the edges of the tub.

“I just want to do it right.” The words are quiet but heavy, and there’s an unmistakable vulnerability in them—like he’s baring his soul, letting you see the weight of his heart laid bare.

Your heart aches at that, but not with sadness—no, it’s a love so full, so overwhelming that it feels like it might burst. You want to reach out and hold him, to reassure him that he doesn’t need to carry all this responsibility alone. But instead, you gently squeeze his hand, your voice soft but firm when you answer.

“You already are.” You speak from your heart, your words simple but true. “You take care of me every day. You love us. That’s all our baby is ever going to need.”

There’s a brief silence, a moment where the only sound is the faint hum of the bathroom, the steam rising around you both. You can feel his shoulders relax, the tension melting away, as if your words have given him the peace he didn’t know he needed. His hand moves from yours, but only to gently rest on your belly, his touch careful, almost hesitant at first, like he’s afraid of disturbing something precious. But when he feels it—the soft, steady flutter of the baby’s movements beneath his palm—his entire expression shifts. The small, tender smile that spreads across his face is like the sun breaking through a cloud, and you can see the wonder in his eyes as he looks up at you.

“Did you feel that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the moment is sacred.

You laugh softly, a small chuckle that escapes before you can contain it, and place your hand over his. “Of course I felt it. I feel it all the time.” You meet his eyes with a smile, and there’s a knowing in your gaze—this tiny life is already part of both of you, and you can already see how deeply it has begun to change him.

His fingers spread across your belly, like he’s trying to cover every inch of it, like he doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this. He leans down, lowering his face until his lips are just above the waterline, his breath warm against your skin. “Hey, little one,” he murmurs, his voice deep and gentle, like he’s speaking to someone already listening, already aware. There’s a strength in his tone, but it’s a quiet strength, one that’s wrapped in tenderness and protectiveness. “You’re giving your mama a hard time, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully, though your heart swells with love for him and the little one already growing inside you. “Tell me about it.”

Juraj chuckles softly, his breath warm against your skin as he stays there for a moment longer, his forehead resting gently against your belly. His hand never moves, continuing to rest in the same spot, as if he’s waiting for another movement, another sign that this tiny person is listening to him, responding to him. It’s such a simple, intimate thing—but in that moment, as he stays there with his forehead resting against you, you realize how much of him is already poured into this new life. This big, strong man—someone who fights battles on the ice, who faces tough opponents with a strength that could move mountains—is utterly undone by the tiny, fragile life inside you. It’s a side of him you’ve seen in glimpses before, but in this moment, it’s undeniable. He’s already a father in everything but name.

Eventually, he leans back, but his hand doesn’t leave your belly. His thumb continues to move in slow, soothing circles, a gesture that’s become as familiar as his touch on your hand. “I can’t wait to meet them,” he says, his voice filled with such quiet awe that it makes your throat tighten. There’s an unspoken promise in his words—I will love them, just like I love you—and it wraps around your heart like a soft blanket.

You swallow past the lump in your throat, nodding as your chest swells with emotion. “Me too.” Your voice is barely a whisper, thick with the weight of everything you’re feeling.

Juraj glances up at you, his eyes softened by something deeper than just affection—there’s a tenderness there, an unspoken understanding that transcends words. His gaze lingers on you for a heartbeat longer than usual, like he’s soaking in the moment, imprinting it on his soul. And then, without saying a word, he leans down. His lips find yours with a quiet intensity, a kiss that feels like it’s full of years of shared moments, of challenges overcome, of love built layer by layer. It’s not rushed, not hungry like so many kisses once were, but slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring this connection between you both.

The kiss speaks volumes. It speaks of the life you’ve created together—of the highs, the lows, and the everyday, mundane moments that have formed the foundation of your love. It carries the weight of shared dreams and quiet promises for the future. And as his lips linger against yours, you feel a tenderness that surpasses any grand gesture, a quiet kind of devotion that only comes from the deepest parts of the heart.

When he finally pulls away, there’s a moment of perfect stillness between you, as if time has paused just for the two of you. His forehead rests gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin, mingling with yours as the two of you share the same air, the same space, your hearts in sync. The sound of the water continues its gentle lapping against the edges of the tub, but it feels distant now, as if the world outside of this moment has fallen away.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, the words wrapped in layers of tenderness that make your heart ache. “Both of you.”

You blink, the weight of those words settling over you like a soft, comforting blanket. Something inside you shifts at the realization—both of you. You are no longer just two people. You are a family. And as his words settle into your chest, the floodgates open, and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. For a moment, you fight them, but only for a moment, because in this sacred space, in this intimacy between the two of you, there’s no need for masks. No need to hold it all together. You let the tears fall freely, letting them trace the contours of your cheeks as the emotions of this moment overwhelm you.

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw sincerity, has unlocked something in you—something that’s been quietly building inside you, something you didn’t even realize was there until now. You wipe the tears from your face, but you don’t try to hide them, because they are a reflection of everything you’re feeling. You’re not ashamed of them, not embarrassed. These tears are love, pure and simple.

“We love you too,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion, barely more than a breath, but it carries every ounce of everything you’re feeling right now.

His thumb brushes gently over your cheek, a small but profound gesture, as if he’s trying to wipe away the tears, but you both know they’re not tears of sadness—they’re tears of love, of an overwhelming gratitude that you can’t express with words. They’re tears that come from the realization that, despite everything—despite the uncertainty, the changes, the challenges—you’ve built something unbreakable together. You’ve created a family. And in this moment, everything feels right.

Juraj pulls you closer then, his arms wrapping around you with a strength that feels like home, a protection that only he can provide. His hands cradle you gently, but with such a quiet force, like he’s holding not just you, but everything you’ve created. The baby. The future. The life ahead.

And as you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, you know without a shadow of a doubt that this is home. This is where you belong. There’s a peace in your soul that you’ve never known before, a certainty that no matter what comes, you will face it together.

[swissboyhisch]

Outed Secret

Pairing: Cole Caufield x Hughes!Reader

Summary: You were looking forward to the summer spent at the lake house. It was even more exciting because your boyfriend was also coming.

Word Count: 1609

Warnings: Alcohol, teasing, keeping secrets and annoying brothers.

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Summer. A time when you spent days at the Lake House with your family. You and your brothers, all together under one roof, much to the horror of your parents. It was a place where you brought heaps of friends to celebrate the offseason, spending the days on the lake and drinking until sunrise.

This year, your parents decided to let the four of you have the house to yourselves, allowing you and your siblings to invite friends to enjoy the free time. You, of course, invited your best friend, knowing the summer could only get better with her by your side. It also meant you two could get up to a little mischief.

Each of your brothers invited some teammates, past and present. Luke brought some UMich boys: Dylan, Mackie, Ethan, and Mark. Jack, of course, had some of the NTDP boys coming, who were also your friends: Trevor, Alex, Cole, Matt, and Patrick. Quinn mainly invited some of his Canucks teammates: Petey, Brock, and Kuzy.

Your boyfriend was among the hockey players invited to the Lake House this summer. Not that any of your brothers knew that. God, they’d all kill you. Maybe not Quinn, but especially Jack if he found out who you had been dating, let alone dating one of his best friends for the last year… Yikes.

You and your best friend, Ella, were the first to reach the Lake House. The boys were due to arrive over the next couple of days, but for now, the two of you could go shopping for a heap of food for the next couple of weeks. Oh, and alcohol. Can’t forget that. The boys would kill you.

“How many people are going to be staying here?” Ella asked as you packed the food away.

“Uh, like 15 of us, give or take,” you replied.

“And Cole is one of them,” Ella smirked, throwing a bag of chips at you. She was one of the few people, besides Cole’s teammates, who knew.

“Yes, he is arriving tomorrow. Hopefully before Jack and Luke.”

“So you can smooch,” Ella teased.

That night, the two of you shared a pizza and some drinks while sitting around the fire pit, gossiping about the year you both had had in Michigan. You didn’t know how you managed to get the fire started. July 4th was this weekend, so plans about the weekend also slipped into the conversation.

The backdoor opened, interrupting the two of you who weren’t expecting any company. There stood Cole with a huge grin on his face, his arms outstretched, knowing you would sprint to him. It happened many times when he’d pick you up at Montreal-Pierre airport. Ever the romantic, the two of you were.

“Cole!” You sprinted from the pit to the patio, throwing yourself at your boyfriend. His arms wrapped tightly around you.

“Hey baby,” Cole chuckled, holding you close. “I’ve missed you.”

After he had dumped his bags in his, Jack, and Trevor’s room, Cole joined you to snuggle by the fire. The two of you shared a fluffy blanket, and the three of you caught up. Ella had joined you on a couple of trips to Montreal because you needed a cover story. You couldn’t just tell your brothers the truth about all the trips. ‘Hey Jack, you know how I keep going to Montreal every couple of months? Well, it’s to see your best friend, who is my boyfriend.’ God, you could just imagine Jack’s reaction.

It was special waking up next to Cole that morning, taking in the body heat that wrapped around you. But the moment didn’t last long. You could hear the front doors opening and the voices of your youngest brothers. Shit. That woke you up quickly. They were way earlier than any of you expected.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Cole was too sleepy to realise who the voices belonged to. Instead, you had to shove him out of the bed. The boy groaned when he landed on the cold wood floor.

“Cole, wake the fuck up. Jack and Luke are here.”

“What?!”

“They’re here early, Cole. Get the fuck out.”

That had him scrambling for his shirt and pants, and his other things, sneaking back to his and the boys' room before Jack could make his way to it. You pretended to sleep a little more before they came to get you out of bed like they loved to do.

“What’s all the noise for?” you groaned as you walked into the hall where Jack and Cole were hugging. You rolled your eyes at your brother’s over-dramatic antics and moved to the kitchen, making sure to call out behind you. “Good to know the bromance can survive being on different teams.”

“Good morning to you too,” Jack retorted.

The day continued, filled with looks shared between you and Cole, often over your brother’s shoulder. The day was spent on the boat with a small group, just hanging out and jumping on and off the boat in the middle of the lake. As the sun set, you found yourself around the fire pit once more with a few more people than the night before. Cole sat on the other side of the fire beside Jack.

“So, sis, we’ve heard you’ve got a boyfriend?” Jack grinned at you.

“What, no?” you lied, your eyes flicking to Cole for only a split second.

Jack chuckled, “Mum accidentally let slip you had a boyfriend. You can’t lie to us now.”

“Fine, I do.”

“How did you meet him?” Luke asked.

You thought about it for a split second. How do you lie and make sure no one connects the dots? “Here in Michigan.”

“Oh nice, so you met him at college,” Jack assumed.

Luke’s eyes focused on you. He was at UMich with you and didn’t remember you ever being with a guy. “At college?”

“Uh yeah?”

“What class did you meet in?” Luke continued.

“Art history,” you lied.

Luke didn’t believe you. The look on his face screamed skepticism. As the photographer for the hockey team, you hung out with him and the team nearly all the time. He knew you wouldn’t have had time for a relationship during college.

“How was your last trip to Montreal?” Jack asked, knowing you and Ella had spent a week in Canada after officially finishing college.

“It was great,” you grinned, “We had a blast.”

“Did you two catch up?” Luke asked, turning to Cole.

Now you could lie, but your poor sweet innocent boyfriend couldn’t. He lost every game of poker. “Yeah, we caught up for dinner, of course.”

“That’s good,” Luke muttered, watching Cole closely. “Glad to know she had a good tour guide.”

“He’s a great tour guide,” you interjected.

Jack stayed oblivious, but Luke’s eyes flicked between you and Cole. He did it for a solid minute before realisation crossed his face. You stood up and grabbed Luke’s arm, pulling him behind you.

“Luke, I need help getting the s'mores ingredients,” you said as you manhandled your tallest brother.

You pulled him into the kitchen and shoved him in, making sure to double-check that Jack didn’t follow you. Cole watched as you left, wanting to follow but knowing it would be suspicious.

“You keep it quiet,” you hissed at your baby brother.

“You and Caufield, seriously? How long have you two been seeing each other?”

“You can say we’re dating.”

“Gross,” Luke gagged.

“Grow up,” you retorted, poking your tongue out at him.

“No,” he sassed.

“To answer your question, we’ve been dating for nearly a year,” you told him, making him sigh once more.

“And that’s why you’ve been going to Montreal? Ella covers for you?”

“Ella actually comes to Montreal with me. But she has family there she sees,” you admitted.

Luke stayed quiet for a moment before nodding. He knew Cole and what he was like as a person. “Are you happy with Cole?”

At that very moment, Jack thought it was a great idea to step into the kitchen with Cole rushing in behind him. “Please say I misheard that,” Jack begged.

“Uh…”

“You didn’t,” Luke nodded, giving a pointed look at Cole standing behind Jack.

Jack turned to his best friend, “You’re dating my sister?!”

“About that,” Cole muttered, unsure of how to handle your brother. “Yes, I am. Our one year is coming up, actually.”

“Yeah, this weekend,” you admitted.

“So you guys got together on July 4th last year?!” Jack yelled.

At this time, Quinn finally arrived with Petey, Brock, and Kuzy in tow. Ella joined as well, wanting to double-check the arguing didn’t get physical between the siblings. She had seen them go crazy on each other before.

“What the hell is going on here?” Quinn asked, looking around the kitchen.

Jack pointed to where you and Cole were standing together and exclaimed, “These two are dating. For like a year!”

“Yeah? I know?”

“So what? Quinn got to know?” Luke frowned.

“How did you know?” you asked Quinn.

Quinn chuckled, “There are only so many times you can go to Montreal without an ulterior motive. It was either Cole or Juraj.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry Cole,” Quinn laughed.

The kitchen was quiet for a moment. The other Canucks and Ella stepped out, leaving the Hughes siblings and Cole alone. You stood next to Cole nervously, hand in hand. Quinn knew and was playing mediator now. Luke was upset about not being told, but Jack… Jack seemed pissed off. Which, to be fair, was what you expected. Then, after a moment, Jack broke the silence.

“Oh my god, that means we’re going to be brothers!”

TAG LIST:

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras 

@francesfarhadi @cixrosie @dasiysthings @dancerbailey3 @puckmaidens 

@cole-mcward48 @sammiejane22 @rleigh-47 @Devilsandpensfan @luca-fantilli 

@books-hlmc @kajasagmo @poufsouffle21 @absolutelyhugh3s

[secretlittlerandezvous]

First Getaway - Arber Xhekaj

Summary: Arber and Y/n go on their first trip together.

Words: 844

Arber wasn’t exactly an experienced traveler. Y/n knew that going into this trip, but she hadn’t anticipated just how amusing it would be. When she suggested a weekend getaway to Banff which was a mix of cozy cabin vibes and outdoor adventures Arber had enthusiastically agreed. His version of preparation, however, didn’t meet Y/n’s standards.

The night before their flight, Y/N peeked into his duffle bag and raised an eyebrow. “Arber, do you even know where your toothbrush is?”

“It’s in there… somewhere,” he said, flashing her his boyish grin. The same one that usually got him out of trouble. “I think.” He said to himself.

She sighed dramatically before fishing through the bag. “Right, and I’m sure this single hockey sock and… is this a pack of instant noodles? These are your essentials?”

“I like to be prepared,” he said with a shrug, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

The airport was its own circus. Arber insisted on carrying both their bags, determined to play the role of a gentleman. But his massive frame and her oversized carry on made navigating the tight spaces an ordeal.

“Excuse me, sorry, coming through,” he mumbled as he bumped into nearly every person on the plane. Y/n trailed behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.

“I’m too big for this plane,” he muttered once they finally reached their seats.

“Or you’re just clumsy,” Y/n teased, sliding into the window seat.

“Probably both,” he admitted, nudging her knee with his as he settled in.

By the time they landed and drove up to their cabin in Banff, the scenery took their breath away. Snow covered mountains surrounded them, and the small log cabin, nestled between towering pine trees, looked like something out of a winter postcard.

“This is… wow,” Arber said, stepping out of the car. His hands rested on his hips as he took it all in. “You outdid yourself, Y/n.”

“I know,” she teased, grabbing her bag. “Now come help me unpack.”

Inside the cabin, Arber’s excitement quickly turned into chaos. He couldn’t figure out how to start the fireplace, leading to a heated debate (and lots of laughter) as they both struggled with logs and matches.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Arber asked, holding the matchstick like it was a stick of dynamite.

“Positive,” Y/n replied. “If you don’t burn the cabin down.”

Eventually, they managed to get the fire going, and the warm glow filled the room. Arber sprawled out on the couch, looking smug.

“See? Told you I’d figure it out,” he said.

“After, like, ten tries,” Y/n shot back, tossing a pillow at him.

The next morning, they decided to go for a hike. Y/N had picked an easy trail with scenic views, but Arber still turned it into a competition.

“Bet I can beat you to that rock up there,” he said, already jogging ahead.

“Arber!” Y/n called after him. “It’s not a race!”

“It is now!” he yelled back, laughing.

Halfway up the trail, the competition shifted to a snowball fight. Y/n managed to hit Arber in the chest with her first throw, and he dramatically stumbled backward like he’d been wounded.

“You got me,” he groaned, sinking to his knees.

“Stop being so dramatic!” Y/n laughed, grabbing another handful of snow.

As soon as she turned her back, Arber launched a perfectly aimed snowball at her, hitting her in the back.

“Hey!” she yelped, spinning around.

“Just getting my revenge,” he said, grinning as he backed away slowly.

By the time they made it back to the cabin, both of them were soaked and exhausted. They spent the rest of the day cozied up by the fire, sipping hot chocolate and playing card games. Arber insisted he didn’t know the rules to most of the games, but Y/n quickly caught onto his strategy of making up rules as he went to win.

“Arber, you can’t just declare yourself the winner because you have the biggest hand!” she said, laughing as he spread his cards out.

“Why not?” he teased. “I think it’s a solid rule.”

That evening, they cooked dinner together or at least tried to. Arber was in charge of chopping vegetables, but his knife skills were basically nonexistent.

“Arber, that carrot is supposed to be in slices, not… whatever this is,” Y/n said, holding up a messed up chunk.

“It’s abstract,” he said. “I’m an artist.”

Despite the chaos, they managed to put together a surprisingly good meal. They ate by candlelight, sharing stories and laughter until Y/n couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so much.

As the night wound down, Y/n leaned into Arber’s side by the fireplace, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I think this might be my favorite trip ever,” she admitted softly.

Arber kissed the top of her head, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something softer. “Yeah? Just wait till our next one. I’ll even remember a toothbrush.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Jealous of Joe | Juraj Slafkovský

wc. 1.9k

Juraj's jealous when he sees you with another certain athlete

(sorry for the bad google translate throughout)

You jog down the steps of Nationwide Arena until you're face to face with a wall of glass blocking you from the players on the ice. Your eyes roam the red and white jerseys, finding purchase when they land on the familiar number 20. You look over his figure, studying the way he skates down the ice with ease. He looks like he’s floating, stick down, looking for the puck, focused, perfect. 

You and Juraj Slafkovský have been friends since the minute he was drafted by the Montreal Canadiens. As one of many social media managers, you became best friends with the whole team, finding safe spaces in Cole, Nick, Kirby, Kaiden, Monty, and most importantly, Juraj. 

The first thing you ever bonded over was your mutual knowledge of the Finnish language. The two of you could converse for hours in Finnish and not even realize until another one of the boys finally gains the courage to ask about what you two have been saying. They even tried to use it to their advantage, asking if you understood what he would say in Slovak but you were no use in that department. 

You try to snap yourself out of the trance you were in, looking around the rink to see what kind of media you could create before the game. You’re in the middle of thinking up a new question or tiktok challenge when you feel a presence next to you. 

“They look good,” the stranger says from next to you and you don’t look over as you respond, somewhat hoping the person leaves. 

“Hopefully they keep it up during the game tonight,” you respond, knowing the Hab's tendency for third period strikeouts. 

“You think Caufield will score?” the boy next to you asks and you shrug. 

“It’ll make my job easier if he does,” you joke and the laugh that sounds from next to you is so melodic it has curiosity leading you to turn your head. 

To say you’re shocked by the man standing next to you is an understatement. After working in this league it takes a lot for you to get star struck by an athlete but you’re speechless, jaw dropped open looking at Joe Burrow standing next to you. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt out and the older boy turns to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“I’m Joe,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake and you can’t help the shiver that runs down your back when his hand slides perfectly into yours. 

“(y/n),” you say, still not quite sure that you’re not totally dreaming. “No offense, but what are you doing here?” 

His laugh has you smiling right along with him and you find yourself wanting to hear more of it. 

“I’ve been meaning to come out and see a game for a while, meet the players and so on. I figured since I’m injured,” he takes the moment to lift up a carefully wrapped wrist in front of your eyes. “I would come and check it out.” 

“Well if you’re expecting your fellow Ohioans to win, I apologize in advance,” you say and Joe throws his head back in laughter.

“Oh really?” 

The two of you continue talking, trading jokes and reveling in each other's laughter. You were beyond enjoying the conversation with Joe and you almost forgot about the ongoing practice and job you should be doing. 

Juraj certainly didn’t forget. During practice, a game, in the arena, out of the arena, no matter what Juraj always has an eye on you. The minute you stepped up to the glass during his practice his eye was on you, watching what you were doing, but more importantly, who you ended up talking to. Juraj’s furious and jealous gaze roams your figure, hating the way your head is thrown back in laughter, pink rising to your cheeks at his words, the slight, shy movements he knew all too well. 

At some point his brain must have shut off because suddenly his body is barreling down the ice without a second thought. You’re mid sentence to Joe when a loud bang sounds in front of you and you both jump back in fear. You look up to see Juraj standing there, a sheepish smile on his lips but something different in his eyes. You shoot him a look that conveys the sentence “are you serious right now???” and Juraj waves awkwardly before backing off and skating away. 

“Your boyfriend?” Joe asks and you jump at his voice, forgetting he was there for a moment. 

“No, no,” you say, glancing at him before reverting back to following Juraj’s movements. “Just friends.” 

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked you out then?” Joe asks and your body fully turns towards him at the question. 

“I can pick you up before the game tonight? I have an empty seat next to me,” he offers and you grin. 

“I’d love to.” 

Juraj spends the rest of practice pissed and all the boys can tell. They’re even playing a game, seeing who can mess with him the most before he truly snaps. 

Nick takes pity on him, the captain skating over to the young player. He follows Juraj’s gaze to where you are and watches as his eyes flame in anger when you smile at Joe. 

“What's up?” Nick asks, vague enough that Juraj can tell him what’s actually going on or he can brush it off. 

“He can fight?” Juraj asks and Nick fully turns to him in shock.

“What?” 

“I’m gonna fight him if he goes out with her,” Juraj says, determination so deep in his eyes that Nick knows he’s not a force to be reckoned with. 

Normally, before games you’re nervous for other reasons. Making sure you have enough content, tweets are loaded and ready to go, photos are edited and stats are ready to be posted. This time, your coworker is taking on those nerves while yours belong to the date you were about to go on. 

You looked over your outfit for what feels like the millionth time and smooth out the canadiens jersey that falls over your body. You were showing up with Joe but still had Juraj’s last name on your back; the irony. Joe knocks on your hotel room door right at 7 and you let out a breath before making your way to the front door. 

You were no stranger to Joe’s pregame outfits but you were shocked out how he could still look so incredibly good even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. His smile is blinding and while you know you should be swooning at the sight, you can only think about Juraj’s crooked smile, the way he looks down, not wanting anyone else to see the beauty. 

You and Joe head to the arena, a short drive in his luxury car and he’s nothing but a gentleman the entire time. Your heart flutters from time to time but you’re not sure if it’s because of Joe, or because you're nervous to see Juraj. 

You two take your time getting to your seats, stopping to grab drinks before heading down as the players are finishing warm ups. Juraj thinks he’s safe, that he won’t have to control a temper for the rest of the game but it all falls flat when he sees Joe with an arm slung around your shoulders in the front row. 

“Leave it be,” Nick warns the younger player and he shakes his head, praying his focus turns towards the game. 

The game against the blue jackets is physical, to say the least. The boys are playing like it’s a revenge tour and the game is tied for most of the time. Third period begins and Juraj is firing on all cylinders at this point. He’s finishing his checks, he’s rushing down the ice, he’s doing anything and everything to forget about you and Joe. 

You watch as Juraj digs for the puck, a battle between him and one of the blue jackets players trying to gain possession of the puck. It sails down towards Nick and Juraj lets up, words clearly exchanged between him and the opposer. 

“Careful before I take your girl out next,” the player sneers at Juraj and he’s officially seeing red. 

You watch in slight horror as Juraj slams the player into the boards and fists go flying. The fight must last a quick 20 seconds but feels like a lifetime. You’re on your feet and pressed against the glass as Juraj gets up, a fresh cut on his cheekbone and his hair disheveled and hanging over his now dark eyes. 

 “Holy fuck,” you breathe out, watching as Juraj is escorted down the tunnel and some of the boys are casting glances in your direction. 

“(y/n)?” you’re snapped out of your trance at Joe’s voice and turn to find him with worry and understanding in his gaze. 

“I have to go check on him,” you say and Joe nods. 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek that explains all of his thoughts and feelings. You smile, a bit of sadness laced in the look, before parting and heading straight for the locker room. 

You race down, surprisingly not getting lost as you run and you flash your access badge like your life depends on it. You finally come face to face with the locker room door and you take a deep breath before flinging it open, unable to stay away from Juraj any longer. 

“Kto si, do pekla, myslí, že je? Sedí tam s ním a užíva si každú sekundu!! A ten sráč, ktorý-” Your brain flies a million miles an hour trying desperately to grasp the little Slovak language you know but to no avail. 

“Juraj?” you call and the 6 foot 2 hockey player halts all movements before turning towards you. 

“What are you doing here?” he grinds out, chest heaving trying to catch his breath. 

“I wanted to check on you.” 

“jebať ma,” he mutters angrily. “Go back to your new boyfriend.” 

Juraj was torn clean in half between two sides. One desperately wanting you here, wanting you to stay and talk to him, to explain that Joe meant nothing to you. The other half of him is infuriated, feeling disrespected that you would show up now after flaunting Joe in front of him. 

“What the fuck is your issue?” you snap, taking several steps till you're inches from Juraj’s face. 

“Ježiš Kristus.”

That’s the last thing you hear before Juraj leans down and slams his lips against yours, the kiss lighting you end to end in a fiery passion. His hands wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your tip toes and press your chest against his padded one. Your body takes a minute to catch up and when you do, your hands tangle deep into Juraj’s damp strands pulling him close and begging him to never let go. 

Unfortunately, humans need air and the two of you separate, panting heavily for a moment after. You fall back onto your heels and Juraj’s eyes search yours for a moment before speaking again. 

“You’re my issue,” he says and before you can retort he shushes you. “I love you. You walked into my game with my name on your back but your hand holding his.” 

Your eyes stare deep into his, your heart cracking at the idea that Juraj could ever be hurt by your actions. However, it’s filled back up when you remember him admitting that he loves you. 

“Oh minun rakkauteni,” you murmur, pulling him into you again and reveling in the feeling of his lips on yours. 

“It’s you baby. It always has been and it always will be,” you promise. 

Juraj grins against you, the moment fleeting but lasting forever. 

[itsnotgray]

should’ve seen it coming | cole caufield

what if grumpy x sunshine didn’t work out?

never saw myself writing for cole, but i asked @fantillisdaylight for a few players and i liked this …thing? more than i thought i would. so yeah, hope you guys enjoy!

~

what if sweet, ball of sunshine cole started going out with this grumpy, not so easily impressed girl.

and for a while, it’s perfect, just like all the movies- but then reality sets in.

their differences that they thought they could move past, were too big for the couple to overcome.

cole, who feels like he can’t be anything but sunshine. with her hardened demeanor, he’s terrified that if he gives in to how he really feels, she may not be able to console him.

and she, who feels so intimidated at the thought of letting cole into her head. she’s the complete opposite of sunshine- and the idea of letting cole into the storm cloud she calls her brain is frightening.

eventually, it all comes to a head after a bad game. he comes over to her apartment, hoping her presence can work its magic like usual. but it can’t. cole’s upset, he’s been upset, and he can’t be bothered to hide it anymore.

“cole i’m here to help you-“ she starts, before she’s cut off.

“are you really though? because you don’t seem like it. most people that want to console someone don’t stand there with that blank fucking look on their face,” he bites back, frustration bubbling off of him like steam off a boiling pot of tea.

and she recoils, because there it is. it always happens eventually. she can’t be as expressive as her partner wants her to, and they leave, frustrated that something as simple as a smile or enthusiasm is so hard to draw out from her.

“i’m trying cole, i swear i am. i want to help you, i mean it. let me be there for you,” she begs, trying to stop the outcome she can sense is looming on the horizon.

but he can’t. he’s frustrated, he wants to advertise his fears, his struggles, but that fear of his emotions being too much for her to cope with creeps up again. and so he shuts down, putting up walls he didn’t know he had.

“just- forget it. we’re done here,” he frustratedly lets out.

“what do you mean we’re done here cole? you’re clearly upset- let me be there for you,” she exasperatedly states, tears of frustration building at being stone walled by her normally joyful boyfriend.

“not just here. we’re done, period. i can’t do this anymore,” he says, headed to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, hoping that’ll cool the accumulated rage that’s been simmering inside of him for so long, silenced by his need to keep up happy-go-lucky appearances.

his hand grips the cup tightly, as he quietly mutters “i’ll sleep on the couch and be gone by the morning.”

“cole, i- why the hell are you- forget it. clearly i never meant jack shit to you if it’s that easy to call it quits,” she says, mostly to herself, storming off to her bedroom, only letting her tears fall once her back is turned to the boy, who’s walls are now crumbling as he sobs quietly in the kitchen.

but his walls, defense mechanisms he’s never really engaged before, make one final move at protecting his heart.

“fucking avoid it like you usually do. real fucking nice that our relationship is crumbling before our eyes and you can’t utter one fucking word that makes it seem like you’ve ever given a shit,” he practically yells into the darkness of her house, but despite the darkness, the words reach her ears.

there it is. the final nail in the coffin. at his rage-filled words, her back hits the door, hand coming up to muffle the cries building in her throat, emotions begging to come out and scream “i’m here, i promise! she may hide me, but im here!”

her hand is practiced in the action though, and her cries of despair never reach the air.

two lovers that in any perfect world could worked.

two lovers torn apart by a beast that king eurythesus should’ve forced hercules to face in his labors, for then the hero surely wouldn’t have been successful.

a beast by the name of miscommunication.

[xplrwithme]

Authors note: I have not written a fic in well over 10 years. Be kind!

“Baby,” you groaned. You couldn't fully believe you were getting into the same argument with him again. You held up the cursed jersey and shook it in his face. “I love you, but I refuse to put this on.”

Cole rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I don’t really see the big deal, babe.”

Your eyes shot to his face.

“BIG DEAL?” You threw your hands up in disbelief causing the jersey to fly around. “It’s a SIN!”

He sighed. “Here we go,” he said before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

You ignored him and continued.

“Cole. Baby. Babe. Love of my life. Light of my days. This isn’t just any normal game. It’s the CENTENNIAL GAME. The Boston Bruins’ 100th year. Massively important in hockey history. Against our BIGGEST rivals. How is this NOT a big deal?!”

You paced back and forth across the bedroom digging your socked feet into the carpet of the hotel room. The hand not holding the cursed jersey counted out each and every point against wearing the damned thing.

“I’m asking you to show support for me, your loving boyfriend,” he retorted, trying to defend himself.

You tossed the red jersey down on the bed beside him as even holding felt like it would cause you to break out in hives. Cole rolled his eyes again at the size of your dramatics.

“I do support you!” You shot back weakly “Just.. not against my team.” Your boys.

“Baby, if you put that Marchand jersey on, I’m walking out of here.” He gestured towards the black and gold jersey sticking out of your bag. The whole reason the argument had started.

You stopped instantly.

You had so little time together before Cole had to get ready for the game and wanted to see him for as long as possible. Having a long distance boyfriend who lived in Canada and traveled for a living wasn’t for the weak. You hardly got to see him during the season. You didn’t want him to leave early over a jersey...BUT you couldn’t bring yourself to support the Montreal Canadiens. God, what would your mother think? You literally had season tickets for the Boston Bruins. The TD garden was your happy place!

You sighed.

“Cole. I love you. I do. But I hate your team. It’s in my blood. You knew this before getting into a relationship with me. I told you from day one that I couldn’t wear your jersey.”

Your team loyalty ran deep.

“It’s a goddamned jersey.” His face grew red with frustration. “You can’t put aside a rivalry for your own boyfriend?”

“It’s like me asking you to wear a Bears jersey instead of a Packers jersey! Do you see the issue here?”

He sighed in defeat and rolled his eyes, clearly knowing he wasn’t getting his way.

“Whatever.” He perked up. “I’ll make a bet with you then. If we win, you have to wear my jersey at our next home game and spend the week with me in Montreal.”

“Absolutely not, the B’s have been playing like shit lately. Too easy.”

Cole raised his eyes to the ceiling, looking for any sort of guidance from the gods above to deal with his amazingly stubborn future wife.

“Okay fine. If I score a goal, then you have to come spend the week in Montreal with me after our next home game.”

You giggled, knowing that no matter how much you frustrated the man, he couldn’t hold anything against you.

“Okay fine, but that’s not much of a punishment. If the B’s win, then I still get to come to Montreal for a week, I just don’t have to put...that…on.” You gestured towards the horrible jersey.

Cole smiled in that soft, boyish way that made you remember why you fell in love with him. He pulled you forward so you were standing between his legs and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Deal,” he conceded with a whisper. He pulled back to glance at you with that soft smile. He pressed his thumb to your cheek as he caressed your face. “I’m sorry that I got annoyed, but I just wanna know that you’re supporting me still.”

You frowned. When was that ever in question?

“Cole, I love you and I support you no matter what even if I hate the team you play for. You know this. Where’s this coming from? It can’t just be about the jersey.” It wasn’t like him to be jealous or insecure. Since the day you’d met Cole, he had been a confident, bright ball of sunshine.

He sighed and leaned back on the bed, looking down at his knees.

“It’s just been hard lately, you know? I see the whole team with their WAGs on the daily, and we’re lucky if we get to see each other once a month. And I know it’s my job that causes the distance, but I just miss you. All the time.”

You quickly blinked away the tears that came to your eyes at his confession. It had been tough. On both of you. You and Cole had been together for a year and a half, but you didn’t get to spend much time together during the season.

You suddenly panicked, thinking maybe it was getting to be too much for him. Not being able to bear the thought of not being with him at all.

“Does...does that mean you don’t want this anymore? Is it too much?” You really didn't want to cry, but it was becoming inevitable. “I know it’s a lot, but I’m almost done with school. And as soon as I graduate, I thought we had plans for me to move to Montreal with you. I...I just...I’m so close to being done, you know, and I’m working so hard--“

Cole quickly cut you off as he stood and grasped your shoulders.

“Honey, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. Get that out of your head right now. It’s hard, but I know we can do it. You only have a year left. I would wait a hundred years if it meant I got to be with you forever. All I’m saying is that I miss you. I’m so grateful for the time we do get to be together. Ask any of the guys, I haven’t been able to shut up about this game all week, because I knew I would get to spend a day with you.”

Cole wrapped his strong arms around you as he pulled you into a hug. One you both needed.

You both sighed in relief.

“I love you,” he said softly. His lips were at your ear. “I’ll never stop loving you and I’ll never give up on us. I can’t wait til we can get you to Montreal for good and for our lives to start together. It’s only a year...”

“It’s only a year,” you echoed in agreement.

Cole kissed you with enough passion that you were certain your makeup was smudged. He leaned back towards the bed before handing you the Marchand jersey and grinning.

“C'mon. Put this on and let’s go, I got a goal to score for you tonight.”

The night did indeed end with the Bruins winning 6-3, one of those goals being Cole’s. You didn’t miss the way he looked up and pointed at your section when he scored. Your knees felt weak with anticipation at what exactly that goal meant. You couldn’t wait for your week in Montreal without a red jersey on your body.

[midnightsnyx]

"Why are you undressing?" "Because it's hot! And I'm hot!" With Arber please<3

Love me some Arber🩵 also sorry this is so short but I hope u likeee

Tw: mentions of alcohol

It’s late when you both get home. And yes, you’d both had a few drinks at the Canadiens Christmas party but you weren’t that drunk.

So, you’re a bit tipsy and trying to navigate your shared apartment when you hear a bang and look back to see an amusing scene.

Arber is attempting to take his shirt off, but has it half off and is clearly stuck. You can’t help but giggle, ignoring his groan of frustration.

“Why are you undressing?” You chuckle, walking over to help him.

“Because it’s hot!” He says, still wrestling with the shirt. “And I’m hot.”

He’s not wrong, so once you’ve successfully helped him get his shirt off, you pull him down for a deep kiss.

“Yeah,” you agree, looking at your boyfriend and grinning. “You are.”

[ahockeywrites]

Proof is in the Pudding

pairing: arber xhekaj x ofc!lila rogers

synopsis: Lila lives and breathes baking. It's a passion she's had since before she moved to Montreal. Her aunt runs a bakery in Montreal and Lila has joined Jessica as the main baker, due to her lack of skills in the language department. One day a mysterious man comes in, thankfully not wanting to speak French but English.

warnings: death of parents length: 2k +

authors note: chapters will be posted on every other friday at 5PM EST (thank the lord for scheduled posts) and i will update you if i reach a roadblock or don't think i'll be able to hit my target. i hope you enjoy the first chapter coming soon :)

prologue chapter 1 chapter 2 (12/04/24)

[hockeyboistrash]

Mob!Arber Xhekaj Moodboard

[swissboyhisch]

The Best Kinda Night

Pairing: Arber Xhekaj x Reader

Summary: Your first time watching Arber play and you get to see the rough side of his job.

Word Count: 1574

Warnings: fighting, mentions of sex related things

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Since meeting Arber at a club after a game one night, the two of you hit it off. The two of you spent the whole night on the dance floor together. Maybe getting a little too handsy in public. After a couple too many drinks, you found yourself waking up in his bed. Arber woke up while you were getting dressed once more, phone held between your shoulder and ear. He protested you leaving and asked you to breakfast. Citing that he was wanting more than a one night stand with such a pretty person.

It had been months since you had had your first date and you were yet to go watch Arber play. Until tonight that is. Tonight he had a game against Arizona at home and you had a glass side ticket. You pulled out the pair of jeans, hoodie and jersey you planned on wearing before jumping into the shower. After spending the afternoon pampering, you made sure you were ready early so you could leave for the stadium and take in the journey.

What he didn’t tell you was that Caitlin, the captain’s girlfriend, would be meeting you at the stadium and sitting next to you so you weren’t alone. Not that it would have bothered you. But he wanted you to have a friend within the team because he knew you were going to be around for a while.

“Hi! You’re Wi-Fi’s girlfriend, yeah?” A blonde greeted you a couple moments after you stepped into the club bar area.

“Uh hi?” You and Arber weren’t public yet so you were very confused as to why she asked you this. She was dressed similarly to you but wearing a jersey with a C patch. Suzuki if you’re correct. “Sorry, who are you?”

The girl smiles, “I’m Caitlin, Nick’s girlfriend. Arber thought it would be a good idea you weren’t sitting by yourself.”

“Oh, that’s exciting. Thanks for agreeing.”

The two of you grabbed a drink from the bar before taking a seat. There was still half an hour until the teams took to the ice for warm-ups. You got to know Caitlin while you two bonded over the drinks. The blonde even introduced you to a couple of the other girls who walked by on their way to their seats.

“Let’s go find our seats. We’re against the glass,” Caitlin suggests when you both had finished your drinks.

Following others through the stadium halls, you find your section and descend the stairs. You made sure to take pictures of everything. Taking in all the bright lights and experience. The two of you were at a perfect spot. Across from the bench and near the penalty box. Or as you like to call it, the sin bin.

“When did you and Arber meet?” The blonde asks.

“Uh, a year ago? Dating for about 7 months.”

“He’s kept you hidden from us!”

You chuckle at the girl’s reaction. “Yeah, we just wanted to get settled and comfortable in our relationship before telling everyone.”

The two of you got to know each other while waiting for the teams to take to the ice for pregame warm ups. At least the chairs were comfier than other stadiums you have been to in the past. You glanced around at the fans around you. People watching. A few Arber jerseys stood out to you. Some Caufield and Suzuki jerseys as well.

“Here they come,” Caitlin spoke up, pointing to the tunnel.

One by one the boys stepped onto the ice and did their laps. Arber came out and skated around, looking around at the fans. He spotted a fan sign with his name on it being held up by a boy no older than 6. Watching the fan interaction was one of the best parts. Arber played paper, scissors, rock with the kid before flicking a puck over the glass and posing for a picture.

“Look who’s skating this way,” Caitlin teases as she waves to Nick standing in front of the girls.

Arber skated towards Nick and bumped him. He then turned his attention to you. The Canadian boy had the biggest smile as he waved like a kid to you. Just like he did for the little boy, he waved the puck then tossed it over the glass. You caught the cold rubber and posed for a picture that Caitlin was more than happy to take for you. Before he skated away to continue warm ups, he put his into a fist as best as he could and put it against the glass. You copied his actions and did a fist bump through the glass.

The fist bump started when you two first started dating. You had always fist bumped your best friend as a goodbye since they weren’t the hugging type. With Arber, the first time you did it was when you were both laying on the couch after your second date. Both of you were to shy to cuddle at the time. But you randomly held out your fist to him. From there it’s a daily occurrence. When it came to games, it fitted into the pregame ritual. He would kiss you goodbye then a fist bump on the way out.

“I like the jersey,” He yelled before giving you a smirk and skating off with his captain to join Caufield not far away.

“He’s so in love with you,” Caitlin pointed out. “I’ve never seen him smile that much. That wide!”

Warm ups went quicker than you’d like and next thing you know the teams skate off again. Now the wait between warm ups and the start of the game. Caitlin grabbed a silver sharpie from her bag and thrusted it towards you.

“You have to write on the puck the date and first Canadiens game.”

You agreed and wrote it on the back of the puck. One to start a collection. Or add to Arber’s puck collection when you moved in together.

The game started and was going smoothly. Kinda. There was some tension building and by the 2nd period you could see that Kassian was aiming at Arber. Wanting to drop the gloves. It wasn’t until a checking incident that Arber decided he had had enough.

“Here we go,” You smirk as Arber and the Arizona player threw their gloves off and grabbed each other. As someone with combat sport training, a fight was entertaining. “Arber’s got this one.”

Kassian’s first punch knocked off Arber’s helmet but he was sure to retaliate with multiple blows, one after the other in quick succession. The Coyotes player dropped to his knees pretty quick, allowing Arber to get some good hits in. Kassian managed to stand up again but didn’t stay on his feet for long. With the coyotes’ jersey in his grasp, Arber took him to the ground. He threw one last punch before the refs managed to pull him off. You watched as your boyfriend smirked at the sight of the player on the ice before skating to the penalty box. He even waved his arms to hype up the crowd who were all cheering by. He looked towards you, a smirk on his face as he chewed on his mouthguard.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter, turned on more than you’d admit to anyone.

“Keep it in your pants,” Caitlin laughs after she hears your muttering.

Arber took his seat in the sin bin and side glanced at you. Another smirk appeared when he noticed the look on your face. He winked at you before turning back to the game.

“Welp I’m gonna have to buy new lingerie after tonight,” You joke (slightly) to Caitlin.

She laughed, understanding the feeling, “it’s the best kinda night after a good, tense game.”

The pair of you laugh before turning back to the game that was playing. The game soon came to an end with a win for the home team. Caitlin showed you down to the family room where people waited for the players to finish changing and the media tasks.

“I’ll introduce you to some of the other girls if you want?”

You shrug, “Sure why not.”

The captain’s partner took you around, introducing you to the older players’ partners. Meeting their kids who were running around the room as well. It definitely filled the waiting time because you feel arms wrap around your waist as you talked to Caitlin and Kirby Dach’s girlfriend.

“Hey,” you grin, turning to see a freshly showered Arber.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. You could see in his eyes what he was thinking about. “Hey baby.”

“I can’t believe you hid her from us!”

“Sorry girls,” he chuckles. “You’ll have her around more but I’m gonna steal her now.”

Caitlin smirks, “don’t break any furniture.”

You blushed but Arber smirked and dragged you away and out of the arena. When you reached his car, he pushed you against the door.

“God you look so good wearing my name on your back.”

You tangle your fingers in his damp hair. Pulling him closer. “Showing everyone who I’m with.”

That snapped the tension. Arber ducked his head and kissed you roughly. He hand slid up your back and cupped the back of your hand from hitting it on the car.

“Let’s take this to yours shall we?”

Arber grinned as he opened the passenger side door for you, “you’re in for a long night baby.”

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @dasiysthings @dancerbailey3 @puckmaidens @cole-mcward48 @sammiejane22

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Loved Enough - Lane Hutson

Summary: After giving everything to their relationship, Y/n confronts Lane about feeling invisible and unappreciated.

Words: 784

Prompt: Don't you think I loved you too much to think I don't deserve anything?

The living room was dim, lit only by the glow of the TV. Y/n sat on the couch, cradling a half-empty cup of coffee. The TV show playing on the screen was one of her favorites, but she wasn’t paying attention. Her thumb absently ran along the rim of the mug as her thoughts grew heavier. The room was silent, aside from the silent chatter from the TV, but it wasn’t the comforting kind of quiet. It was heavy and tense.

Lane was in the bedroom, the door shut behind him after the argument. She imagined him lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone like he always did when they argued. It was his way of coping, of avoiding.

But tonight, Lane wasn’t distracted by his phone. Her words from earlier echoed in his mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else. The guilt was suffocating. He hadn’t meant for it to get like this, for her to feel this way.

The weight of it grew heavier. He tossed his phone onto the bed and sat up, running a hand through his hair.

This wasn’t who he wanted to be.

Lane stepped into the dimly lit living room. His eyes immediately landed on Y/n. She was still on the couch, her attention seemingly on the TV, though the way she fiddled with her coffee cup told him otherwise.

“Y/n,” Lane said, scared of her reaction.

She startled slightly, her head turning toward him. Her tired, red eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, stepping closer.

She sighed and placed the mug on the coffee table. “What’s left to say?” she murmured. “We’ve said enough.”

Lane shook his head, sitting down on the armrest of the couch, leaving space between them. “Please, Y/n.”

She let out a deep breath and walked over to the window. She crossed her arms over her chest as she stared outside. “It’s always the same with you, Lane,” she said, her voice trembling. “You say you’re sorry, that you’ll change, but nothing ever really does.”

Lane got up and followed her, stopping a few feet away. “I know,” he admitted. “I know I’ve said all the wrong things—or worse, said nothing at all. But I’m here now. I’m listening.”

Y/n turned to face him, her expression a mix of pain and exhaustion. “Do you even understand what it’s been like for me?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “I’ve given you everything, Lane. I’ve loved you through all of it—your games, your schedule, your traveling, missed holidays and birthdays. I’ve put myself last because I wanted to support you, because I wanted to be there for you.”

Her voice cracked, and she looked away, tears threatening to spill. “But you don’t see me anymore. It’s like I’m invisible.”

Lane’s face crumbled, her words hitting him like a blow to the chest. “That’s not true,” he said quickly. “You mean everything to me, Y/n. I’m doing all of this for us, for our future. Don’t you see?”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “A future?” she repeated. “Lane, I never asked for a future where I feel invisible to you. I never wanted a life where I feel like I’m just here, waiting for you to notice me. Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I don’t deserve anything?”

Lane froze as her words sank in. His throat tightened, and he stepped closer cautiously.“I didn’t realize…” he started. “I thought I was doing what was right. I thought I was building something for us. For you.”

Y/n crossed her arms tighter, her voice quieter but no less firm. “You were wrong. Because I never wanted any of that, Lane. I just wanted you.”

The silence between them was heavy, her words lingering in the air. Lane stepped closer again, his hands trembling as he reached out, though he stopped just short of touching her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt you, Y/n. I hate myself for it. Let me make this right.”

Y/n looked into his eyes. “It’s not going to be easy,” she said firmly. “It’s going to take more than words this time, Lane.”

“I know,” he yelled out quickly. “But I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Her arms fell to her sides, and she let out a shaky breath. Slowly, she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Don’t mess it up.”

“I won’t,” he said, his voice trembling as he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. “I swear I won’t.”

She let herself sink into his embrace, her tears soaking into his shirt as his arms tightened around her.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Decorations | Juraj Slafkovský

wc. 1.3k

You offer to help Juraj decorate his apartment for Christmas

Juraj had been jumping from place to place ever since he had come to Montreal. He didn’t mean to, he should have planned better in hindsight, but his rookie season had come as a whirlwind followed by a particularly cursed season and that was the only thing that seemed to kick his butt into gear. 

He moved into a decent apartment during the off season, a one bedroom with a spacious living room and kitchen that he already felt like he didn’t spend enough time in during the hockey season. He tried his best to decorate, get some comfy furniture and put up family photos but he eventually gave up. 

Well, until he met you. 

You had been living in your apartment for two years now and still had not finished decorating. For some reason, you were changing the theme of your space constantly, something that drove your family mad whenever they visited. 

You loved to decorate. From your car to your kitchen every space you spent a long time in had to be decorated to the nines. You knew that you’d be worse off staring at blank walls and zero color surrounding you for hours on end. You loved the inspiration that came to you when you walked into a room and immediately came up with a vision for what the space could look like. You liked flexing that creative muscle in any way shape or form that you could. 

You were hauling up some particularly interesting rolls of patterned wallpaper when you met Juraj. You hadn’t seen him in the building before and he offered you a soft smile as you waited for the elevator. 

“Would you like some help?” he asks, gesturing to the four rolls of heavy wallpaper leaning against you. 

“Uh yes actually please,” you say. 

Juraj is quick to grab three of the rolls of wallpaper even though you insist you can handle at least two and help you haul them into the elevator. 

“Did you just move in?” he asks and you shake your head, trying to meet the eyes of the taller boy. Your head tilts back and you start to size him up, figuring he has to be at least six foot and definitely works out somewhat regularly with how easy he carries your items. 

“Ah no,” you admit sheepishly. “Just decorating again.” 

Juraj hums at this and when the elevator dings for your floor he lets you out first and then follows you to your door. You dig your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door before shouldering your way inside. You instantly drop the first set of wallpaper rolls on the ground near your door before pushing it farther open and helping Juraj inside. 

“Woah,” you hear him mutter when he sees your apartment decked out in color from head to toe. No wonder you seemed shy when he asked if you had just moved in. It looked like you had lived here for your whole life with the way the place was so personally decorated. 

He places the wallpaper down on the ground, propping it against the hallway wall and continues his perusal of your apartment. He notices the couch is the only thing that seems worn and out of place in the whole apartment so far. It’s black with the leather worn and faded in places. 

“Thank you again,” you say and when you trail off Juraj suddenly realizes you’re waiting for his name. 

“Juraj,” he says, his accent tickling your ears in a way that makes your body involuntarily shiver. 

“(y/n).” 

After that first encounter, you happened to run into Juraj occasionally. It turns out he lived on the same floor as you, moved in during the summer, and that he was a hockey player for the Montreal Canadiens. Your conversations had seemed to only last the duration of an elevator ride or a quick pause in the hallway but you had been dying for more ever since you met the young man. 

“Hold the elevator!” you called out, rushing forward with several bags on your arms and a string of lights falling off your neck. 

“Woah,” Juraj lets out when he sees you enter the elevator in a huff. 

“Oh, hi,” you greet, cheeks growing hot at the sight of him. 

“Decorating again?”

“Just for Christmas,” you explain and Juraj nods slowly. 

“I don’t think I’m going to decorate this year,” he admits to you quietly and your face morphs into a frown, one that Juraj realizes tugs at his heart when he sees it. 

“My family hasn’t been able to make it here for the holidays yet and I haven’t had time to go home during Christmas either,” he explains and you nod in understanding. 

The elevator dings at the arrival of your apartment floor and Juraj quietly grabs a couple of bags off your arm before gesturing for you to exit the elevator first. You start to walk towards your apartment but veer in the other direction and head towards Juraj’s instead. 

“Uh, (y/n)?” Juraj calls out behind you but you don’t stop until you’re in front of his apartment door. 

“Come on,” you say and Juraj’s face is full of confusion as he approaches you. 

“We’re decorating your apartment.” 

“No you don’t have to,” he begins but you shake your head. 

“Everyone deserves a bit of the Christmas magic around them at this time of year. Now open the door or I will pick the lock myself.” 

Your declaration is so serious on your face Juraj can’t help but believe you. Through the shuffle of multiple bags he digs out his key and lets the two of you into the apartment. You had seen the inside of his apartment maybe twice since you had met Juraj and both times it looked the exact same as it did now. 

Juraj once explained to you that he spent more time in an ice rink than in his own apartment and that decorating felt like a waste to him at some point. Why spend time and money on a place that he was never in? You made a mental note to give him some decorations for Christmas so the place could look a bit more like he lived there at least before continuing into his space. 

“Okay I say we start with hanging up lights throughout the living room and then add a stocking or two on your mantle and then,”

“You don’t have to do this,” Juraj reminds you, catching your arm in his grasp and you don’t miss the way your skin tingles at his touch. 

“I want to,” you remind him and his smile lights up his face. 

The two of you spend the next two hours decorating his place from head to toe. You went through all the bags of stuff you bought for your place and even made a trip or two out to your apartment to grab a couple of special items to really make the place pop. By the end, it looked like the north pole had thrown up in Juraj’s apartment and you loved every bit of it. 

Christmas lights were hung up strategically around the living room, ribbon tied around his kitchen cabinets to make it look like a present with a bow on it, stocking on the mantle of his living room, and a plastic mini tree sat on his kitchen table, an old decoration from your childhood home. 

“Ta da,” you exclaim with dorky jazz hands when the two of you finish and Juraj laughs lightly at the words. 

“Thank you,” he says, turning to face you fully. “I really appreciate this.” 

“No one should be alone during the holidays and especially not in an undecorated apartment,” you tell him, nudging him with your shoulder and his smile never fades from his face. 

“Well, would you like to have dinner with me sometime during this holiday season then? I’d hate for us to be alone.” 

“It’s a date.” 

[senditcolton]

As Long As I'm With You

After coming home from work/a long trip, finding your lover sobbing on the couch/in bed after a hard day, wiping away their tears with soft touches and gentle words – trying to convince them it’s okay, and that you’re there for them now.

summary: being injured makes you feel helpless and you despised it. lucky for you, your athlete boyfriend knows what you're going through and therefore knows just how to comfort you song inspo: OK by backstreet boys word count: 0.9k warnings: injured reader, self-doubt & self criticism, hurt/comfort requested by anon

If there was one thing that you prided yourself on, it was your independence. You had gotten this far in life without using others as a crutch. You didn’t realize that that emotional strength would be shattered the same time that your physical strength was. You didn’t realize how much you relied on your autonomy until it was taken from you and replaced with actual crutches.

A torn ACL that required surgery to fix was all that it took to remove the one aspect of your personality that you cherished. A torn ACL was all it took to leave you helpless.

That loss made you fight harder to recover, just so you could have that strength back, both physically and emotionally. But that need to regaining your independence was how you wound up here; on the couch with tears streaming down your face.

You had just come downstairs for a bite to eat, that was all. After being in bed most of the day, you needed to move. You had been able to walk about the house without help recently and that shouldn’t have changed today, you thought. How very wrong you were.

Leaving the bedroom and making your way down the stairs was easy enough, just as long as you went slow and kept a firm grip on the railing. But when you tried to retrace your path and ascend the carpeted staircase, your knee started throbbing in pain. And you were stupid enough to leave your crutches leaning by your bed.

You had made it halfway up before you couldn’t manage another step, collapsing on the carpeted floor and sliding your body back down to the landing. You managed to hobble to the couch before collapsing onto the soft cushions, your legs stretched out in front of you.

That’s when the tears started. Not just from the pain radiating from your injured knee but also from the complete feeling of helplessness. Once the first tear hits your cheek, there is no stopping the downpour, covering your eyes as you choke back sobs.

You are so frustrated, so overwhelmed, that you don’t hear the garage door open. The sound of your boyfriend Josh returning doesn’t even register until you feel him gently grabbing your arms, pulling your hands away from your face. 

The minute your eyes connect with his blue ones, your heart breaks at the sight of fear shining in his irises. His mouth is moving but it takes a minute for you to fully register the words falling from his lips.

“Baby, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?”

The questions come in rapid succession, the panic in his tone obvious. You take a few shaky breaths, trying to piece yourself back together.

“I’m fine, or,” you sniffle, “my knee is fine. Just a little sore.”

Josh’s gaze stays locked to yours, waiting patiently for you to continue, intrinsically knowing that there was more you wanted – no, needed – to say. You heave a sigh, your eyes looking skywards as you feel another wave of tears swell.

“It’s just…” you begin, your words sticking in your throat. “I just hate this, Josh. I feel so goddamn useless. Like, I can’t even – I can’t even walk up the stairs without help. Everything I used to be able to do effortlessly, I now just… God, I just – I feel like such a fucking burden.”

The teardrops fall again, hitting and soaking the fabric of your clothes as your head drops. You don’t want to look Josh in the eye. The last thing you needed was his sympathetic gaze. Instead, you keep your eyes locked on your hands, clasped tightly in your lap. A moment of silence passes until Josh speaks.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Sweetheart. Look at me.”

The gentle plea is all you need to hear. And when your eyes lock, you are slightly surprised to not see a shred of sympathy in those baby blues that you loved. Instead, Josh is staring at you with the utmost understanding and care.

“You aren’t a burden,” he tells you, his fingers tightening around your hands. “Not to me, not to anyone else. If you need help, we’ll help you. Because that’s what you do: help the people you love.”

This time, the tears that come aren’t heavy with frustration and sadness. Instead, they are happy – Josh’s words making your heart both ache and mend. His gentle assurance that he would be there for you feels more healing than any of the physical therapy you had already gone through. Josh shoots you a soft smile, his hand lifting to wipe the moisture away from your skin.

“Come on, let’s cheer you up, yeah? Do you want me to call your injury buddy? Have him come over?”

You let out an unsteady laugh at his suggestion. He was referring to Joel Edmundson, the defenseman being a close friend of yours far before you the two of you became, as Josh said, ‘injury buddies’ – you with your knee and him with his back.

“Are you alright with waiting on both of us?” you quip, the words playful but still twinged with some lingering fear. A fear that Josh immediately silences with his smile.

“Absolutely. Well, Eddy might have to fend for himself but for you, anything.”

“Don’t be mean,” you laugh in response to his joking words. Josh’s grin brightens when he hears your lighthearted tone return. “Okay,” you say, “Yeah, call Joel.”

Josh lifts himself from the carpet next to the sofa where he had been kneeling, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head before he moves to the kitchen where he must have dropped his cellphone when he came in.

“Hey Josh,” you call out to him, bringing his attention back to you. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Always.”

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[sweetdispatch]

Not saying I love you back

Players headcanons summary: how certain players would react on you forgetting to tell i love you players: Cole Caufield, Adam Fantilli, Nico Hischier, Jack Hughes, Luke Hughes, Quinn Hughes, Clayton Keller, John Marino, Matt Rempe, Juraj Slafkovsky

C. CAUFIELD

You wanted to mess with Cole while he was leaving for morning skate. When he closed the door and didn’t hear I love you back, he stepped again into the apartment. You giggled at his reaction. He approached you and repeated those words again to you but you only kissed him. He was looking at your face trying to read if he made you mad but when he saw the smile creeping at your face, he realised that you were only joking with him. “Not funny” Cole said to you and left the apartment for good now. You quickly sent him a message saying I love you but he only liked it. Two can play this game - he thought to himself. 

A.FANTILLI

Adam would be taken aback when you didn’t respond to his words. He was always telling you that those words mean a lot and he wouldn't just say them to say. That’s why when you didn’t say I love you, he thought the worst. That you don’t love him anymore. He got scared that this is your way to break up with him. “Do you not love me anymore?” Adam asked you. From his voice you could tell that he’s sad and then the realisation hit you. You explained to him that you were just joking but he got mad at you for joking about this topic. For the whole day you were trying to apologise to him, promising to never again joke about this. 

N. HISCHIER

At first, Nico didn’t even realise that you didn’t say I love you back. It was so natural for both of you to say it that he had this programmed in his head that you said it. When you noticed that he didn’t react, you tried again later that day. This time, he noticed that you didn’t say it. He looked at you with brows raised and you laughed. You couldn’t pretend anymore and you said I love you back to him, telling him that you tried to get his reaction for the whole day. 

J. HUGHES

Jack looked at you when you didn’t say those words back but didn’t do anything. He knew you and assumed that you’re pranking him again. That’s why for the rest of the day he didn’t say them to you either. You were shocked when he didn’t say them for the whole day because at every opportunity he was telling you that he loves you. When you were going to bed, you said to him I love you. The only response you got was “I know”. You realised that he was pranking you now. 

L. HUGHES

Luke told you those words before he left. You didn’t say them back and for the rest of the day he was wondering what he did wrong. You never acted this way and he was sure that you had to be mad at him but nothing was coming to his mind. On his way back, he bought you a huge bouquet of flowers, your favorite coffee and a basket full of your favorite candy. “I don’t know what I did wrong but I’m so sorry” Luke said and you looked at him with love. You didn’t expect that this little joke would make him so nervous. You told him that you were just messing with him and he acted offended. You kissed his lips and promised him that he did nothing wrong. 

Q. HUGHES

Quinn thanked you for breakfast and said I love you. You only responded to him with “no problem” and kissed his cheek. He knew something was wrong when you didn’t say those words back. He was asking you why you didn’t say it back. You were playing like you don’t know what he is talking about. He was clearly mad at you and this whole situation. He became rude to you. You gave up and told him that it was all a joke but he was still mad that you were playing with his feelings. You promised him not to do it ever again. 

C. KELLER

When you didn’t say I love you back to Clayton, it got him all worked up. He was furious that you didn’t say it. You tried to interrupt him in his monologue but you couldn’t. For him, those words have a huge meaning and if you said them once, you should still tell them unless you don’t feel it anymore. You kissed him when he started talking nonsense and told him it was a prank but he couldn’t accept this and believed there’s a deeper meaning than you haven’t told them. You were saying I love you all the time to him until he finally believed you that you were only joking. 

J. MARINO

At first John was shocked when he didn’t hear you saying I love you back so he repeated it. Again, he got no response and he asked you directly why you didn’t say it back. You just looked at him and laughed. You couldn’t keep the act longer when you noticed his serious face. He was confused why are you laughing because he didn’t find it funny. You explained to him that it was only a joke and he was even more confused. “Why would you even joke about this?” John asked you and you apologised to him telling that you only wanted to see his reaction. 

M. REMPE

You didn’t say I love you back when Matt was leaving for morning skate. You thought that’s gonna be funny to see his reaction. He didn’t react and just left the apartment. You were surprised that he didn’t say anything to you. You expected him to make sure that you still love him. When he returned, he could tell that you were thinking about something and he was confident that you were thinking about his no reaction. “My sister showed me this trend. I know that you love me and wanted to mess with me” Matt told you and kissed your lips. You wanted to prank him but he pranked you. 

J. SLAFKOVSKY

When you didn’t say I love you to Juraj, he froze in place. You were always saying it back but from your facial expression he could tell that you’re not mad at him. That’s why he was repeating those words until you’ll tell them back to him. But you were just standing there smiling at him. Finally he lifted you up and started kissing your face. After each kiss, he said I love you and was doing this long until you said them back.

[bedards-bunnie]

NHL Players Reacting To Finding Out You're Pregnant ❄️🐰

Content: Pregnancy, Established relationships Notes: Please let me know if I missed anyone you would like to see! I hope you enjoy..please interact if you did, feedback is appreciated! 💗

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Connor Bedard

He freezes. Like completely stops functioning for a solid minute.

“Wait, really? Like… really, really?”

Once it sinks in, a huge grin grows on his face

He reaches out to touch your stomach, even though he knows there’s nothing there yet.

He’s still processing days later

“Holy shit… we’re gonna be parents.”

He immediately starts researching  “how to be a good dad”  but doesn’t tell you out of embarrassment.

Will NOT shut up about it to his teammates once he gets over the shock.

Nico Hischier

Literally stops breathing for a second. He thinks he misheard you

Hands on his hips, pacing. Runs a hand through his hair.

“Are you serious?”

When you nod, his whole face lights up with this attractive, excited smile.

Pulls you into his arms and buries his face in your neck, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume.

“I love you. So much. Oh my.”

Probably tears up but tries to be subtle about it.

Calls his mom IMMEDIATELY.

That night, he lies awake, just staring at you in awe, hand resting protectively on your stomach.

Adam Fantilli

“No way. No fucking way. Are you messing with me?”

As soon as you confirm, he just starts grinning like a fool.

Picks you up and spins you around happily.

“WE’RE GONNA HAVE A BABY!”

Lowkey freaks out about being a dad but masks it with excitement.

Already planning matching hockey jerseys for the baby.

Catches himself watching you all the time now, like holy shit, you’re carrying our baby.

Leo Carlsson

His eyes go wide and he just blinks.

“Really?” His voice is so soft and unsure.

When you nod, he immediately wraps his arms around you and just holds you tight.

Kisses your forehead, then your stomach.

“You’re gonna be the best mom.”

Gets really emotional but doesn’t say much

Looks up Swedish baby names

Jack Hughes

Stares at you for a solid ten seconds.

“Wait. What?”

Once he processes, he just drops his head into his hands, overwhelmed.

But when he looks up he’s smiling so big.

“Holy shit. We’re gonna have a baby.”

“I mean you’re gonna have a baby..but- but it’s mine, right?

Hugs you so tight, burying his face in your hair.

Calls Luke IMMEDIATELY to freak out.

Will not stop touching your stomach even though it’s early.

“Hey, baby, it’s your dad. I love you already.”

Quinn Hughes

Just stares at you for the longest time.

He’s so overwhelmed but doesn’t know what to say.

Finally, he just pulls you in, pressing his face against your shoulder.

“Are you okay? Do you feel okay?”

Tries to act calm, but you can feel his heart racing.

Kisses your forehead and whispers, “I love you so much.”

He won’t let go of you in bed and keeps one hand on your stomach.

Tyler Bertuzzi

“No shit?”

Smirks at first, but then he actually processes it.

“Wait. I’m gonna be a dad?”

You see it hit him all at once and he grabs your face, kissing you hard.

“You know our kid’s gonna be an absolute menace, right?”

Immediately starts thinking about all the dumb dad jokes he’ll get to use.

Brags to literally everyone who will listen.

“Yup, knocked her up. Guess I did something right.”

Trevor Zegras

“NO WAY.”

Literally jumps up and down like a child.

“We’re having a BABY?! We made a whole human?!”

Pulls you into his lap, holding your face in his hands.

“Holy shit, I love you so much.”

Immediately starts making TikToks about being a dad.

Buys baby Ducks merch within an hour.

Alex Vlasic 

Stops mid-breath.

“Are you serious?”

When you nod, his face softens immediately.

Holds your hands in his and kisses your knuckles.

“I love you.”

Becomes super protective overnight.

Talks to your belly when he thinks you’re asleep.

Gets teary-eyed thinking about holding your baby for the first time.

Jordan Binnington

“Wait, hold on.”

Visibly panicking.

“Like, an actual baby? Like… OUR baby?”

Sits down, processing, then suddenly grins.

“Shit. I’m gonna be a dad.”

So protective. Tries to ban you from doing anything remotely dangerous.

Insists on driving you everywhere.

Will absolutely fight someone for looking at you wrong.

Vince Dunn

Eyes go wide. Mouth slightly open.

“No way. No fucking way.”

Tears up immediately.

Wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck.

“I love you. So much.”

Starts referring to you as “baby mama” immediately.

Can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

“Our kid is gonna be a little shit, huh?”

Luke Hughes

Stares at the test for way too long. Blinks. Looks at you. Looks back at the test.

Hand running through his hair, pacing for a second before stopping in front of you.

“You’re serious?”

When you nod, he exhales sharply and then he’s grinning, pulling you into his arms.

“Holy shit, we’re having a baby.”

Face buried in your neck, arms holding you tight. A little shaky, a little overwhelmed, but so happy.

Lowkey panics about being a good dad. Watches so many parenting videos. Asks Quinn and Jack way too many questions.

Will 100% cry when he holds the baby for the first time.

Juraj Slafkovský

Eyes go wide. Mouth slightly open.

“No way. No fucking way.”

Scoops you up in his arms, spinning you around. Realizes mid spin that you’re pregnant and panics, putting you down so very gently.

“You’re serious?” he asks, voice soft, hands shaking a little. When you nod, he just stares at you in awe.

Holds your face in his hands, forehead pressed to yours, whispering, "I love you so much."

Calls his mom immediately. Literally before you even sit down. She cries and now he’s crying too.

So protective. So dramatic about it. You get up too fast? “Baby, sit.” You try to carry something? “Nope. I got it.”

Talks to your belly in Slovak every single night. Tells the baby about his games, how much he loves you, how excited he is to meet them.

Buys the tiniest baby skates he can find. Will not stop showing them to you.

Insists the baby’s first word is gonna be “hokej”

Loses his mind the first time he feels the baby kick. “Did you see that? Our baby’s already an athlete.”

Holds your hand through the whole delivery. Kisses your forehead, whispering, “You did so good, láska.”

*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ